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3 yrs ago
When Miley Cyrus is naked and licks a hammer it's "art" and "music"... but when I do it, I'm "wasted" and "have to leave Home Depot".
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4 yrs ago
My grandfather had the heart of a lion and a lifetime ban from the Central Park Zoo. Rest in peace you strange, strange man.
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5 yrs ago
My girlfriend is always stealing my t-shirts and sweaters... But if I take one of her dresses, suddenly "we need to talk".
31 likes
6 yrs ago
My ex girlfriend had this really weird fetish. She used to like to dress up like herself, and act like a fucking bitch all the time.
11 likes
6 yrs ago
“I have 3 kids and no money, why I can’t I have no kids and 3 money.” -Homer Simpson
11 likes

Bio



I love writing when I have the time and motivation for it. My posting frequency is generally one or two times a week on average. Supernatural, Horror and Fantasy are usually the genres I hang around most, but I'm not afraid to experiment with something new. I've made a lot great friends here, many of whom I met when creating the Red Hood universe, and am always looking forward to making more.

I tend to be a little raunchy and crude at times but if you can handle that, you'll have a heck of an RP buddy in me!

The Red Hoods: Rebirth
The Red Hoods: Initiates
The Red Hoods: Genesis
Red Dead Reckoning
X-Men: Avalon Rising
X-Men: The New Era
Cold Front: Tacitum
Crime & Devilry
Welcome to Ashton
The Fates' School for Gifted Monsters
TWD: Hell On Earth
Rebellion
Haven for the Inhuman
Animalia
For Whom the Bell Tolls
Drake: Inextinguishable
The Energy Storm
Frontier of the Damned
Land of the Giants
The Haunted House
World War M

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Magnificent Bastards: The Many Faces of RedXIII

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pickles
pickles

RYDER SHAW :+: RED HOOD :+: MENTIONS: NONE


Ryder looked to Finlay as his trainees began to disperse, trying to get a sense for how the senior Hood felt about his presence. Uncertainly was the only emotion Ryder could pick up. The fact that Ryder wore red already meant that Finlay should be able to trust him, but there was a hint of suspicion in the way Finlay looked at him. It was the same look one would give to a strange dog, unsure if it would bite if you attempted to pet it.

The recruits, or rather the Yellow Hoods, who passed did so without many words spoken. To those that were still gathered, Ryder gave a reluctant nod. "It's Shaw, by the way. Ryder Shaw." Finlay gave a comical scoff, unimpressed with the timing of Ryder's introduction.

"Sure," he mocked. "Now tell us who ya are." Ryder glared at Finlay, burning holes into him with his eyes. They were already off to a great start. "You and I have some talkin' to do, Shaw. I'll see you before we feast, ya?" Ryder responded with a subtle nod. Finlay looked at his people once more and suddenly stood up very straight before pounding a fist over his heart with a single audible impact. A sign of respect to the new Hoods. A salute. He then turned to Ryder and did the same, the latter reciprocated but with much less fervor. Finlay then took his leave, heading who knows where within the keep. Once Zeke had handed out all of the cloaks, he disappeared into the shadows as well. Ryder hadn't had a lot of direct contact with Zeke in his time earning the red. He was still curious what the giant looked like under that black hole of a hood.

Ryder took in a big breath and let out a slow, airy sigh. He opened his mouth to start to speak, but then stopped, unsure what to really say. He'd been traveling for weeks, slain his beloved's murderer, and carried news of impending doom to the head of the most elite force the world had ever seen only to be tasked with babysitting. Then, suddenly, the words he wanted to speak came to him.

"I need a drink." He gave his head one violent shake, cracking his neck, before taking his leave of the group and heading toward the keep's tavern.

Ryder's pace was slow and even. Each step brought with it a new, haunting thought. Step. What now? Step. You've completed what you set to accomplish. Step. Why does it still hurt? Step. What am I doing here? Ryder's fists began to involuntarily clench, his fingernails digging into his skin just enough to smart. He forced his thoughts to cease, focusing mainly on the floor, on his feet, on each step. Part of the training, or at least part of his, was to separate emotion from function. If you fight with emotion, you fight without focus. You mess up. You slip. To execute your mission to the best of your ability, you must do so devoid of feelings, of self pity. The mission is to make it to the tavern. The method is walking. There ought not be anything else to it. Stop thinking, Ryder silently told himself. One foot after the other.



The Keep's Tavern was located across the courtyard in a stand alone hovel off the to corner. Crudely etched into some wooden boards above the entryway were the words "The Stumbling Ass". As Ryder opened a door leading toward the courtyard, he continued his journey right to the bar, swinging the door out wide and immediately taking in the smell of smoke and alcohol that flowed through the open passage, escaping and polluting the otherwise fresh air outside.

The bar was small, having been built to serve only a select type of patron, and was surrounded with various wooden tables. Some of the people were playing cards in the corner while others were testing their might with an arm wrestling match. At yet another table, one could bear witness to a red hood so drunk he had fallen passed out, draped over the table as if he were it's cloth. Ryder rolled his eyes and honed in on a barstool, taking a seat right by the tender.

"A shot. I don't care what, as long as it's strong." The barkeep, an elderly, hefty man who looked like he was in the twilight of his life, gave a pleased nod. The man's face was covered in a patchy white beard that had very obvious holes in it, giving him a very scruffy look. His head, however, was as bald as a baby's bum. The light from the torches all around gave a shimmering reflection off the old man's cranium. Ryder wasn't sure what the man's real name was, but everyone who ever came him always just called him "Bud".

"Here y'are!" Bud said with with an eager smile as he placed the shotglass down.

Ryder looked at it at first and could see some remnants of something floating in the liquid. He looked around the room again and resigned to the fact that sanitation was not this place's strong suit. Screw it, he thought as he picked up the glass, tipped it at the barkeep as a sign of appreciation, and slammed it back down after inhaling it. He shook his head and let out a disgusted gag, unable to even stomach his own saliva after that taste. His spit to the wood planks on the ground, wiped his mouth with the back of his arm and looked at Bud with angry eyes. His pupils were fire. He leaned in a little bit and, between bared teeth, he said, "Another."


"Good night! What did you do in there," Finlay blurted out, looking to Kiri and Colin's group. His face was painted with disgust as he covered his nose and mouth with a hand. The smell escaping the room was dreadful. Before an answer came, he quickly did a head count, his eyes bouncing from one initiate to the next. "We're short one," Finlay declared with a softer tone and an heir of disappointment. "The new one."

"Looks like you took some casualties, too," Trent made sure to point out with a slight sneer, the delectability he took in Finlay's shortcomings was lost to no one. Finlay looked at the others as they emerged as well, his head bobbing in a small nod as he met his charge's eyes. Of those who walked out, there was an undeniable sense of pride and esteem coming from Finlay. Of course, he would never admit to it.

"Took ya all long enough," he said finally, his grin subtle and crooked. "But good on ya. You went is as mere dobbers. Amateurs. Ignorant. Stupid. Blind. But now you've emerged as something new. Dobbers with a piss sash. Congratulations. You're yellow hoods." Zeke, the seemingly silent sentinel, slowly moved to each survivor, a pile of folded yellow garments gathered atop his presented arms. A hood for each initiate. A symbol of their status within the organization. "What's mine is now yours," Finlay continued. "Our resources are your resources. But there is a cost. You will train with us on your off time and when you're not training, you will be sent on missions. You will be placed in dangers far less controlled than what you've just faced, against foes who we couldn't catch and contain. It only gets more challenging from here, kiddos." Finlay's crooked smile turned into a full grin as he glanced at them all. "Look around and get familiar with these people because you're gonna be spending a lot more time with 'em. It's all of you and me from here on out."



"And me," Ryder called, his voice devoid of interest or excitement as he stomped heavy-footed down the hallway, his red cloak waving behind him with each stride. His dark, shoulder-length hair flowed back as he moved. His face gave away the fact that he hadn't shaved in quite a while. What wasn't a part of his beard was covered in stubble. He moved with intention and resentment.

"What's that," asked Finlay, bewildered and slightly annoyed for his moment being interrupted.

"Commander says I'm also tasked to this group." Once Ryder was finally standing at Finlay's side, he looked the teams over, soaking them in. The people gathered were certainly eclectic.

"You're not taking this group from me. I've already seen 'em through to the Tria-"

"Not interested," Ryder interrupted. "You're running this. I'm just here until I'm not." His lack of motivation was obvious. He had no intention of being a counselor or a trainer, no desire to water the next crop. It's what he was tasked to do. What he had to do. "I'll admit it's impressive to see this many people walking out through those doors," he said, addressing the teams. "On my day, it was just me. Welcome to the Hoods."

"Right," Finlay said, his voice trailing off slightly as he tried to comprehend this new development. He broke his stare away from Ryder and looked to his pupils once more. "Anyway, the keep is open to you now. The armory, the library, the kitchen, the laboratory, the dining hall, the sparring chambers, the archery yard... hell, I'll even let ya go to the keep's tavern if ya earn your drink during work hours. In the meantime, you're free to get accustomed to this place. I plan on feasting in an hour in the dining hall. You've earned your spots and are welcome to join me, should you have the urge. Otherwise tomorrow morning is Day One. I'm gonna throw ya in the deep water. Ya better learn to swim real quick."
Three rooms, three challenges...

In the first room, Chase, Dragomir, Fendrel and Cohen found themselves up against this creature:





The initiates were quick to notice that the creature may be susceptible to audible attacks, attempting to distract it by tossing objects afar to mislead the beast as to their location, but the creature seemed to hone in on their voices most of all. Some of the crew took on some minor scratches but they ultimately felled the monster when Chase crushed it's skull with the help of a spell.





In the second, Locksley, Hae, Rivington and Celestina were tasked with defeating this abomination:





After trying to stab, shoot and swipe at the creature, their attacks seemed to have little to no effect as the thing kept regenerating and reforming. It wasn't until Kiri managed to hurl sparks at the fowl smelling thing that it became engulfed in flame. Unfortunately, the flaming monster, in the throws of death, took Locksley down with him. RIP Locksley.





In the last room, O'Shay, Nyssa, Whitlock and Album found themselves up against this friggin thing:





The crew made quick work of their opponent, immediately drawn to its eyes. To the surprise of many, Nick revealed that he had a bit of an emergency weapon: a firearm which he used to shoot the creature right in its biggest eyeball. Save for a few scratches, the team came out relatively unharmed.





Between Zeke, Trent and Finlay, all the doors opened once more and the light from the outside hall shined in. The Yellow Hood Trial is complete.
Congratulations to all, the trials are over! All challenges have been conquered! Was planning on getting official posts out tonight, but that will be delayed until tomorrow morning. Thanks for bearing with me on this. I think the changes that took place leading up are for the better and I look forward to the rest of the RP!
Could I please have my name changed to Draven?
Drake “D” Edwards



Interaction/Mentions: @Damo021@webboysurf | Location: Avalon




Drake looked to Cleo and her wound and reality began to set in, his adrenaline offering some clarity of thought. "Dude did you just really quote Dragon Ball Z?" Drake's answer was just a crooked, uncomfortable smile. People were getting hurt. The inebriation was taking a turn from jovial to aggressive.

"Has anyone seen where she is? We need to wake her up!" Nik's concern was real. The bloodshed was real.

Drake blinked for a moment. "She left with the vampire..." Drake offered, his voice a little faint as he tried to reanalyze the situation he found himself in. His gaze went from the demonic looking entity to the back door. His eyes squinted forcefully as he demanded his will to focus. No more time for games. Though his mind was forcefully trying to regain composure, his body was still at the mercy of the chemicals he ingested as well as the sleep deprivation. His vision was blurred and his balance was lacking. If Nik was right, there was no killing this thing. Not really. The only end to it was through Uná.

"We gotta..." He swayed as he tried to stand still, his eyes still bouncing from the back door to the creature. "...split up. Gotta go get Uná. Gotta distract the Big Ugly. Take Cleo. Get her out of here. I can be distragen... distratcher... I can keep It busy." With that, his fists went flame on once more, his glassy bloodshot eyes narrowed at the Thing, as his brows jutted forward. His jaw lowered, exposing his lower teeth in a silent snarl. There wasn't a lot left in the tank, but enough to go out with a bang, if it came to that.

In an attempt to issue an intimidating challenge, Drake called out to the creature. "Fucks with me."


Two weeks ago

The chilling wind whispered through the trees that swayed blissfully in the moonlight. The grass was lightly covered in snow and every breath Ryder took came out as a small vaporous cloud. He tried to breathe as little as possible as he remained perched high in one of the trees, his body eclipsed in shadow as his eyes remained glued to the ground below. He was waiting for his prey. The cold temperature didn't even faze him as he remained still, finding comfort in his stewing hatred.

It was only a year ago that she was taken from him. His fiance, Alice, was a good and generous woman. She was kind to a fault and it costed her everything. There was once a time when Ryder was a simple tradesman. That time had passed. And all of this, everything, came to a halt because of one man... one thing.

Ryder's eyes blinked rapidly, his attention sharpening, as his ears heard the sound of crunching snow below. In the distance, he could see the silhouette. It was massive...



As a man, Ryder learned, he went by Godwin Thomas. Now, however, he was known only as the Wendigo. Many, many moons ago, while Ryder was out on a hunt, a withered looking Godwin came knocking on the door of Ryder's cabin. Alice, being the sweetheart she was, quickly brought the man in to warm up by the fire. Godwin thanked her for the hospitality and mentioned that he was ravenous. She offered him a place at their dinner table to dine of whatever game Ryder brought back with him. Little did she know that Godwin preferred a different kind of meat.

Perched in the tree, Ryder stopped breathing altogether as the hulking creature came closer, it's haunting yellow eyes staring straight forward. Ryder wasn't entirely sure of the best way to kill this thing, but he imagined his sword would be a good place to start. He just needed it to get closer...

When Ryder had returned from the hunt, he walked back to his cabin and immediately noticed the door was open. "Alice?" His voice was laced with concern. His fears turned to reality as he made his way to the doorway and peered inside. There she was... in pieces. Her flesh was ripped, her musculature was torn. Eaten. Blood covered the floor and within it were footprints. Shoe prints. This was not the work of an animal, this horrific scene was orchestrated by a man. Ryder wasted no time in trying to track the man down, but he had no leads other than his target was a cannibalistic drifter. The trail went cold until he heard whispers of a man that was possessed with a demon who stalked the woods and hungered for flesh. Ryder managed to find him and nearly died in doing so. He was not equipped for the task, so he found an outfit who could teach him, train him. He became a red hood and, tonight, he would have his long awaited vengeance.

The Wendigo was directly under him now. It was time. Ryder swiftly pulled out his sword and leapt down, his blade positioned like a nail that drove down into the creature's head with a sickening CRACK. The beast roared and bucked, but Ryder's grip on the embedded blade held true. Eventually, the thing fell to the ground, completely off balance. Ryder, with rage in his eyes, planted a foot on its horned skull and withdrew his sword, crimson fluid springing out of the wound like a geyser, covering the man's face and torso in blood splatter. He raised the blade and began hacking away at the Wendigo's head, screaming at the top of his lungs as he did so. Small craters to the skull soon grew into one big cavernous opening, flesh and brain matter flying as the Red Hood's passion hit a climax. The Wendigo stopped moving long ago and eventually Ryder ran out of steam and collapsed in the red snow. All he could do now was stare at the corpse and weep. Softly at first, but it soon grew. She was still gone. He finally destroyed her murderer, but it changed very little. He then looked up at the moonlight and screamed out a challenge, as if to God.

His teary eyes drifted back down to earth as he stared passed the giant corpse off into the far distance of the woods, his mind unable to ease itself. Suddenly he noticed some movement that looked like a group of men slowly approaching.

"Ho there," He called, forcing himself to swallow his sorrow and regain composure. "I have to warn you, you're in for a sight. I've just slain the-" His voice trailed off as the group of men walked under the light of the moon, their faces illuminated.. their lipless, dead-eyed faces. More of them began to appear, coming in from another direction. In the dark, Ryder couldn't really tell how many there were in total, but they were certainly still coming. Too many, for sure. He looked to the corpse of the Wendigo and spat upon it before running off in the direction of his horse, whom he had left at the nearest town over. This was something that would need to be reported. It was time to go back to the keep.

Present Day

Commander Rouge was sitting at her desk in her private chambers when she heard the knock at her door. As she got up, she grabbed hold of a rather large knife before answering. She prided herself in always being prepared for a fight. As the door opened, she found herself face to face with Ryder Shaw who looked older than he actually was, his face weathered. The man looked as though he had never known sleep in his life.

"What is it, Shaw?"

"There's something you ought to know." Ryder proceeded to tell her about the undead and how their numbers had grown to what appeared to be the size of a small army.

"Why were you there? Who was with you?" Commander Rouge's face was nearly impossible to read, but Ryder already knew where this was going. His mission was not a sanctioned one.

"I was handling some personal matters."

"The Wendigo." She stated it as a matter of fact. She clearly knew the answer before even asking the question. "And you did it alone, violating our law." Ryder just stood there. A response at this point would just be a gesture of obedience. They both already knew what went down. "We make these laws, Shaw, to protect our people and our investment in them. If you were killed, that's a year of dedication to you and your craft that would have been for nothing. Vengeance is a dangerous thing. Taking on a creature of that magnitude by yourself is a stupid thing. I don't employ stupid people, Shaw. Is that understood?"

Ryder bit his lip and nodded, forcing himself to remain silent lest he say the wrong thing. Commander Rouge was not one you wanted to anger.

"You've forgotten how to work with people. You need to be retrained."

Ryder scoffed and was about to object but suddenly Commander Rouge's hand was around his throat and he found himself up against the wall. He barely registered the move, she was so fast.

"This is not up for debate. If you want to keep wearing that hood, you're going to play by my rules." She hesitantly let go of his throat before continuing. "The trials are underway. Finlay and Trent have their groups going through them now. The groups are big, or at least they were before the trials. You're going to go over there and help mentor them on working as a team. You're going to show them how to act as a unit and hopefully it will serve as a reminder to you as well." Ryder's face contorted with disappointment, but he dared not speak on it. "If you have a problem with that, you can take it up with Zeke. In the meantime, your pupils are in the trial hall. You best go meet them."

With a snide leer, Ryder took his leave and began heading to the trials, his frustration growing with every step.


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