Munk Member
- Last Seen: 5 yrs ago
- Old Guild Username: Munk
- Joined: 11 yrs ago
- Posts: 295 (0.07 / day)
- VMs: 0
-
Username history
- Munk 11 yrs ago
Status
User has no status, yet
Bio
User has no bio, yet
Most Recent Posts
Good thinking, I agree (y)
Strangelander said @Munk: Charles is looking good!
Thanks! I wanted him to give him a bit of the feel I got from reading about Randall Flagg in the Dark Tower series and The Stand without making him a total demonic villain-type. I think we should leave that to the dude claiming he's The Dealer ;)
Name: Charles "Charlie" Parson
Sex: Male
Age: 31
Nationality: Wastelander
Appearance:
Charles still resembles his once attractive self, although it's become hard to tell his age. His face is lined, there are bags under his eyes, and his skin shows clear signs of how much time he spends in the sun. Charles walks softly, his gaunt body moving across the desert with very little noise. Charles wears impossibly worn cowboy boots, a grey shirt, denim jeans and a jacket, covering it all with a tough, dark leather coat.
Personality: Charlie is soft-spoken, and he moves mostly silently. He tries not to draw too much attention to himself. He's thankful to his companions for taking him in, and they're probably the only people in a long time that he's been with long enough to trust. Using his gift makes him feel dirty, but he knows he's valuable to the Bastards, and he takes a kind of hesitant pride in it.
Background: Charles had only just passed into young adulthood when he realized his gift. Few people ever get to perceive the twists of fate, much less twist it themselves, so to the small farming town of Garnet, his awakening was a blessing. Birds and vermin stayed away from the rice fields, injuries seemed to heal quicker, and those who traveled to other towns to trade came home with a slightly bigger return than they otherwise might've. He did valuable work: for the first time in generations, Garnet prospered, and it was because of him. It seemed that old Snake-Eyes had finally decided to award them a lucky roll. It would be wrong to say that Charles was worshipped, but he received a lot of requests and positive attention, and although the nature of his gift embarrassed him, he thoroughly enjoyed it, happily trying to fulfill as many wishes as possible. It was a good three years.
Of course, when an untested, arrogant young man twists fate as much as Charlie did for Garnet, eventually fate twists back. While the crops still, grew tall and strong and traders still returned with full pockets, little by little people began to discover malignant growths on their bodies. His parents were the first to succumb to the cancers. After a summer of miscarriages and stillborn babies, Charles finally realized that he was to blame. To this day he's not entirely sure if he made the decision to exile himself before or after he was run out of town. He fled into the desert knowing very little about making it in the wastes. The gifts with which he had killed his people he now used to call vermin to him. Coyotes, rodents, and lizards would feel drawn to him, unsure why they were approaching the man who meant to snap their necks. Their meat was stringy and often foul-tasting, but meat it was. Little by little he learned to make it on his own, only approaching settlements if he had to. Even then, he never stayed long, afraid that his mere presence would call on the forces that he would eventually learn had entirely wiped out his town, nobody but the most desperate for shelter daring to move into the dry, empty houses of Garnet.
That's why he's with the Bastards: he's found a way to use his dirty magic for good. It took him twelve years to finally learn that his gift won't kill everything it touches. You can twist fate without bringing it down on your head like a crumbling house of cards, but you need to watch yourself. So he does.
Gear: Charlie carries a sharp knife in his belt and a bolt-action rifle slung across his back. For his magic, most of what he uses needs to be fresh, but he does carry a small pouch of animal bones, as well as a set of six dice and a deck of cards. Neither have ever been used for a game.
Skills: "Some people are born with the gift to peer at the cards of destiny, draw certain cards from the middle of the deck, even shuffle it entirely.
Me, I'm a cheater. I can stack the deck, fudge the dice. It's not pretty. It comes with a cost. But it works, at least most of the time."
Charles may be one of Snake-Eyes' lowest children. Whereas tribal shamans can look into the future, and the mages of Rhys are rumored to sling fireballs with a single word of power, Charlie deals with low magic. It's the burning of weeds arranged in a specific pattern, the drawing of symbols in fresh animal blood, the attempt to read the direction of a thunderstorm in a dice throw. It's often slow work. But it seems mostly reliable.
Simply put, Charlie, like he guesses others do, feels the run of destiny all around him, almost like standing in a river. Sometimes he can feel a delta upstream, other times he'll simply have an idea of which herbs to burn and which bones to break to have a look at where the water's flowing. He can't do much, but examples include compelling animals do perform simple tasks (this seems to be easier if the task makes the animal walk towards its death), lighting small fires, and making people trip and things fall over. Generally, his gift consists of making coincidences tip in his favor. He feels like he's cheating, and he's deeply envious of Kaz's gift. It might be complete chaos, but at least it's pure.
Sex: Male
Age: 31
Nationality: Wastelander
Appearance:
Charles still resembles his once attractive self, although it's become hard to tell his age. His face is lined, there are bags under his eyes, and his skin shows clear signs of how much time he spends in the sun. Charles walks softly, his gaunt body moving across the desert with very little noise. Charles wears impossibly worn cowboy boots, a grey shirt, denim jeans and a jacket, covering it all with a tough, dark leather coat.
Personality: Charlie is soft-spoken, and he moves mostly silently. He tries not to draw too much attention to himself. He's thankful to his companions for taking him in, and they're probably the only people in a long time that he's been with long enough to trust. Using his gift makes him feel dirty, but he knows he's valuable to the Bastards, and he takes a kind of hesitant pride in it.
Background: Charles had only just passed into young adulthood when he realized his gift. Few people ever get to perceive the twists of fate, much less twist it themselves, so to the small farming town of Garnet, his awakening was a blessing. Birds and vermin stayed away from the rice fields, injuries seemed to heal quicker, and those who traveled to other towns to trade came home with a slightly bigger return than they otherwise might've. He did valuable work: for the first time in generations, Garnet prospered, and it was because of him. It seemed that old Snake-Eyes had finally decided to award them a lucky roll. It would be wrong to say that Charles was worshipped, but he received a lot of requests and positive attention, and although the nature of his gift embarrassed him, he thoroughly enjoyed it, happily trying to fulfill as many wishes as possible. It was a good three years.
Of course, when an untested, arrogant young man twists fate as much as Charlie did for Garnet, eventually fate twists back. While the crops still, grew tall and strong and traders still returned with full pockets, little by little people began to discover malignant growths on their bodies. His parents were the first to succumb to the cancers. After a summer of miscarriages and stillborn babies, Charles finally realized that he was to blame. To this day he's not entirely sure if he made the decision to exile himself before or after he was run out of town. He fled into the desert knowing very little about making it in the wastes. The gifts with which he had killed his people he now used to call vermin to him. Coyotes, rodents, and lizards would feel drawn to him, unsure why they were approaching the man who meant to snap their necks. Their meat was stringy and often foul-tasting, but meat it was. Little by little he learned to make it on his own, only approaching settlements if he had to. Even then, he never stayed long, afraid that his mere presence would call on the forces that he would eventually learn had entirely wiped out his town, nobody but the most desperate for shelter daring to move into the dry, empty houses of Garnet.
That's why he's with the Bastards: he's found a way to use his dirty magic for good. It took him twelve years to finally learn that his gift won't kill everything it touches. You can twist fate without bringing it down on your head like a crumbling house of cards, but you need to watch yourself. So he does.
Gear: Charlie carries a sharp knife in his belt and a bolt-action rifle slung across his back. For his magic, most of what he uses needs to be fresh, but he does carry a small pouch of animal bones, as well as a set of six dice and a deck of cards. Neither have ever been used for a game.
Skills: "Some people are born with the gift to peer at the cards of destiny, draw certain cards from the middle of the deck, even shuffle it entirely.
Me, I'm a cheater. I can stack the deck, fudge the dice. It's not pretty. It comes with a cost. But it works, at least most of the time."
Charles may be one of Snake-Eyes' lowest children. Whereas tribal shamans can look into the future, and the mages of Rhys are rumored to sling fireballs with a single word of power, Charlie deals with low magic. It's the burning of weeds arranged in a specific pattern, the drawing of symbols in fresh animal blood, the attempt to read the direction of a thunderstorm in a dice throw. It's often slow work. But it seems mostly reliable.
Simply put, Charlie, like he guesses others do, feels the run of destiny all around him, almost like standing in a river. Sometimes he can feel a delta upstream, other times he'll simply have an idea of which herbs to burn and which bones to break to have a look at where the water's flowing. He can't do much, but examples include compelling animals do perform simple tasks (this seems to be easier if the task makes the animal walk towards its death), lighting small fires, and making people trip and things fall over. Generally, his gift consists of making coincidences tip in his favor. He feels like he's cheating, and he's deeply envious of Kaz's gift. It might be complete chaos, but at least it's pure.
The elf was out the door almost immediately. Not the chatty type, apparently. But Red got it. Sometimes machines were easier to deal with than people. He and Red might not think too differently.
Spellslinger made a comment about needing the DocWagon bracelet already. Maybe he wasn't a complete arrogant bastard after all. Red liked working with people who didn't take themselves too seriously, something she herself often struggled with. Of course, in their line of work, one had to toe a fine line between pride and integrity. The latter got you work, the former got you killed. And as he thanked them for not being meathead junkies, Red realized something. He's probably just a rookie. Wants to be treated like a pro. We'll get 'im whipped into shape.
Drinks were served. Doom brought a teen girl (well, at least someone looking like a teen girl; you never knew for sure these days) to the table. It was unprofessional, and frankly, sorta creepy, but Red actually wouldn't mind a drink. Lei-Ne left—a shame, Red would've liked to chat a little—and left only her, the muscle, and the drunk teen. She'd have to make sure the Troll didn't take her home, for about a dozen different reasons. If nothing else, that was a reason to stay.
She grabbed a Carlsberg from the table—synthahol, the taste of which she preferred to the real deal—and looked at the three people left at the table. Frag it, let's do this.
"Alright, let's get a game goin'." Red put on a fashionable pair of AR glasses, hooked them up to her burner commlink and started up a game of cards. Her vision flickered for a second as the glasses recognized her surroundings, and a deck of virtual cards appeared on the table. Slipping on her AR gloves, she began flicking around a single digital card. "Okay, chummers, we're playing standard Texas. You should've all gotten an invite, go ahead and accept it and we can get started." Once they accepted, the cards would also appear on their glasses or cybereyes or whatever tech they were rolling with. She took a sip of beer. This should be fun.
Spellslinger made a comment about needing the DocWagon bracelet already. Maybe he wasn't a complete arrogant bastard after all. Red liked working with people who didn't take themselves too seriously, something she herself often struggled with. Of course, in their line of work, one had to toe a fine line between pride and integrity. The latter got you work, the former got you killed. And as he thanked them for not being meathead junkies, Red realized something. He's probably just a rookie. Wants to be treated like a pro. We'll get 'im whipped into shape.
Drinks were served. Doom brought a teen girl (well, at least someone looking like a teen girl; you never knew for sure these days) to the table. It was unprofessional, and frankly, sorta creepy, but Red actually wouldn't mind a drink. Lei-Ne left—a shame, Red would've liked to chat a little—and left only her, the muscle, and the drunk teen. She'd have to make sure the Troll didn't take her home, for about a dozen different reasons. If nothing else, that was a reason to stay.
She grabbed a Carlsberg from the table—synthahol, the taste of which she preferred to the real deal—and looked at the three people left at the table. Frag it, let's do this.
"Alright, let's get a game goin'." Red put on a fashionable pair of AR glasses, hooked them up to her burner commlink and started up a game of cards. Her vision flickered for a second as the glasses recognized her surroundings, and a deck of virtual cards appeared on the table. Slipping on her AR gloves, she began flicking around a single digital card. "Okay, chummers, we're playing standard Texas. You should've all gotten an invite, go ahead and accept it and we can get started." Once they accepted, the cards would also appear on their glasses or cybereyes or whatever tech they were rolling with. She took a sip of beer. This should be fun.
Idk, couple posts, maybe? I think two would be fine. We don't have to go through every hand :D
Okay, Guild is back up! Wrote most of my post earlier, now I just gotta get it to fit with everyone else's.
Okay, Guild is back up! Wrote most of my post earlier, now I just gotta get it to fit with everyone else's.
You got it (y)
Hey, before I type up too much of my post, do you guys wanna do the poker game thing or just time skip to the next day and kind of explain it between the lines (someone might have a hangover etc.)? Since not everyone's in there, it might not be too much fun for everybody :D
Either way I'll start writing a description of the safehouse. We're gonna need that no matter what.
Either way I'll start writing a description of the safehouse. We're gonna need that no matter what.
Ollumhammersong said
Well you already stated in a previous post that the bracelts we were given aren't enough for doc wagon to enter the corperation grounds to help us. So that already excludes platinum.I sould say lets do gold. its fairly all encompassing and will fix most problems. Silver if we want a challenge because silver contracts will only do so much.
Gold it is.
I should think it's good enough to base a freeform RP on :D
I like those blueprints! We can totally roll with those. Like I may have mentioned, everyone adds to the canon.
As for DocWagon, hm, Platinum would make things easier, but a standard Gold subscription might make things fun—someone gets hurt badly, it's part of the mission to get them to a (relatively) secure spot for a pickup. Idunno, what do you guys think? We can always make something up if we want, and it's our choice whether someone actually gets hurt or not.
As for DocWagon, hm, Platinum would make things easier, but a standard Gold subscription might make things fun—someone gets hurt badly, it's part of the mission to get them to a (relatively) secure spot for a pickup. Idunno, what do you guys think? We can always make something up if we want, and it's our choice whether someone actually gets hurt or not.
© 2007-2024