@ASTA
I love how you're hoping to allow Claw to wield "sound magic" - I once had an elvish bard who could wield similar power and it was blast to use iq application (though I never thought about using it to silence something or repair metal through sound). He was so much fun to write (and people loved reading his actions!)
It's safe to say I'm excited for Claw. :3 Can't wait to see a character sheet!
Rhaevnn Xeno Member
Caster of Shadows
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- Rhaevnn Xeno 11 yrs ago
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Dark Jack said
Heh, it was only just before writing this that I actually went through the effort of going back and seeing what was edited in your post, Rhaevnn, and woah, you weren't lying; it was changed a lot more than I suspected it would have been. I quite like the way it turned out, I must say (though I do feel the need to point out that the thirty-inch long beak of that pick is hardly a "spike the size of a man"). And how flamboyantly old Morgan moves against our new villain... I'll have to react to that. Merc? If you read this, is there anything I should be aware of Ixion doing/saying when writing a post, or might you actually have time to drop an IC post in a near future?I'm really sorry Ixion and Morgan decided to fight this guy, though... this is going to be almost as far from a fair fight as it can be. But you'll see for yourselves when I post as him next.
Glad you like it, DJ! To be honest, I was a little worried it might throw a wrench in your plans, but good to see that it actually became something that you liked! As for the spike, I must have somehow missed that part. O_o I'll go back and fix it asap.
To help map out how flamboyant Morgan is fighting, the best example would be this (2:28-2:40). Morgan's fighting style (when not under the influence of his beastal side) is flamboyant enough to where it could appear to be confusing, but not the point in which his style is flashy for the sake of being flashy (to avoid being off balance as much as possible). I guess the best way to describe it would be "acrobatically fluid"
@DJ
Just so you know, I edited my post, changing some events entirely and adding a lot more thought process. After rereading it several times, I felt that it wasn't really sticking to Morgan's character (and I wanted to show what his thought process was a little more due to the circumstances and such). While he would definitely be more cautious to the new stranger, our blood sniffer wouldn't simply immediately stop dead in his tracks at the threat of great power. Dominance as the self proclaimed "Hand of Death" would take priority over a simple matter of life or death. Also, it's basically the only thing Morgan has. To have it assumed by someone else is... unsettling and beyond annoying.
Just so you know, I edited my post, changing some events entirely and adding a lot more thought process. After rereading it several times, I felt that it wasn't really sticking to Morgan's character (and I wanted to show what his thought process was a little more due to the circumstances and such). While he would definitely be more cautious to the new stranger, our blood sniffer wouldn't simply immediately stop dead in his tracks at the threat of great power. Dominance as the self proclaimed "Hand of Death" would take priority over a simple matter of life or death. Also, it's basically the only thing Morgan has. To have it assumed by someone else is... unsettling and beyond annoying.
@legion - Iridiel's picture wouldn't happen to be one of a skyrim cosplayer, would it?
When you put it that way, I almost feel bad about asking hypothetical situations about Ameoten ._. Haha. I didn't realize Ameoten and Thaler were so entangled... It honesty makes me very excited to see what will happen next! (And now I wish I had actually taken an hour or two to read the RP before the guildcrash)
Also, I don't how I missed the fact that Morgan and Ixion would joining up with "the group." But as you said, we'll just have to see what is in store!
Also, I don't how I missed the fact that Morgan and Ixion would joining up with "the group." But as you said, we'll just have to see what is in store!
Well, I mean, Morgan and Ixion are in Zerul right now... And seeing we don't know what DJ has in store, Thaler could break from one group and end with another. *shrug* I've only seen a little bit of the RP before the guildcrash, so I only have a small amount of how deep connections are between a characters, but if Shien's character insists in pursuing, it could lead to different connections. We don't know what's ahead but I have faith.
I would suggest hanging in there. No doubt, there will be a crossroad. As a GM of my own RP, I notice players always seem to get frustrated or get the feeling of being "stuck" right before something big of interesting happens :3 (and apologies did typos - doing this post from my phone)
EDIT:
@hymusia: Glad you feel some pride - it's well deserved for such a detailed CS. It painted the Black Sun perfectly.
EDIT2:
@Shien: would Ameoten really give up that easily if Thaler announced her hate for him? Would he give up on DJ's character's quest to become redeemed as well? (Unless I'm completely misreading this xD)
I would suggest hanging in there. No doubt, there will be a crossroad. As a GM of my own RP, I notice players always seem to get frustrated or get the feeling of being "stuck" right before something big of interesting happens :3 (and apologies did typos - doing this post from my phone)
EDIT:
@hymusia: Glad you feel some pride - it's well deserved for such a detailed CS. It painted the Black Sun perfectly.
EDIT2:
@Shien: would Ameoten really give up that easily if Thaler announced her hate for him? Would he give up on DJ's character's quest to become redeemed as well? (Unless I'm completely misreading this xD)
Also, who says that Thaler isn't sick of being pushed around or frustrated at the feeling of being manipulated (at least from theoretical view)? Who says that once in a place of her element (a city) and won'take all efforts to rid of herself of people she thinks potiential jailers? I mean, everyone has their breaking point - maybe upon arriving at the city, Thaler will just decide enough is enough.
I mean she's the Black Sun. Me thinks that she could did a possible will and the opportunity to flee once in a familiar setting. (I'm trying to be convincing, but only because I would hate to see such an interesting character disappear because its creator grew frustrated :c)
I mean she's the Black Sun. Me thinks that she could did a possible will and the opportunity to flee once in a familiar setting. (I'm trying to be convincing, but only because I would hate to see such an interesting character disappear because its creator grew frustrated :c)
I have to agree with Shien on this one. Thaler can't be retired! She's one of my favorite characters ( both as a character it general and in the story)!! :C I love how she's caught in the place that she is now... But I understand how a character can get tiresome. Maybe she'll call for your attention eventually?
Morgan's lithe form smoothly pulled itself up and over the edge of the tiled rooftop, just in time to hear the... accented voice make an observation of the red hooded man that stood across the two, three storied buildings. As the vampire dusted his right shoulder, eyes on the imaginary soot that had formed itself on the green cloth, he couldn't help but wonder the same question his newest opponent posed. For an assassin, wouldn't honor be out of the question? After all, it's all just business. Unless it is, or became, something more...personal...' Shuttered eyes turned slightly towards the blade-for-hire, more questions arising. So far, no amount of emotion had truly risen from mercenary. Yes, tempered feelings of anger or maybe even annoyance, but no blatant exposure, no sudden outbursts. 'Cold, stiff, like his steel.' A realization dawned upon the sniffer as his thought process continued, 'Or perhaps, maybe like myself at one point.'
Crimson eyes shifted back towards the blue coated woman's killer, eyelids shutting ever so slightly in a suspicious manner. This man, was odd. His clothing was not in the form of a universal shirt, but as if he was wrapped for burial. But then, it transformed into something socially flexible, something casual, relaxed. Such attire was confusing, sending mixed messages, and causing Morgan to give this masked man a up-down look, taking as much detail as could. Irises locked onto the man's unique blade, 'Similar, but different?' The sniffer thought slowly, attempting to make some connection. However, he couldn't place his finger on it, for another thought came to mind, 'He could just be any assassin. After all, if Ms. Maggot-hatchery was an employee of the Duke, she could have many wanting her blood for something' Morgan would snort gently from his nose, amused by the given nickname. It may be too soon for some for such amusement, but Death had been pleased. Through this, Morgan was pleased. But an emotion of happiness would turn to an unsettled frown as he contemplated further, 'But pleased by some other hand.' Suddenly, the sniffer's thoughts were interrupted by the newest adversary:
""Would ya wait a minute, eh? I'd like to finish givin' ol' Blue 'er gift... I don't real have an' business with ya."
Morgan's grip tightened around his knobbed weapon, his mouth becoming a thin, firm line as the man continued, "Either of ya."
Morgan's eyes slight squint of suspicion began turning to a flash of scorn. If his face had been not clear, a dark cloud would have begun to brew on the otherwise emotionless face. As he observed the nonchalant killer, the roots of hate slowly burrowing themselves into his heart. 'This masked man's mannerisms and speech... It's almost as if he enjoys killing.' Morgan could not help but observe. But then again, why had it taken him so long. Perhaps this man felt an affinity with death, wrapping himself in lines of cloth, like the dead, and painting his 'face' with blood in a gruesome, comical way. Suddenly, Morgan would expertly spin his staff twice with his gloved right hand before planting the butt of the weapon sharply against the stone tiles with crushing *tack!* 'He has no fear.' The vampire thought, the right corner of his mouth would then lift ever so slightly as a spark of grim amusement stirred in his chest, At least, not yet. The sudden action was to attraction attention, demanding the floor for speech and thought. There would be no backing out, and Morgan knew there would be very little chance for surrender.
'He has strong magics' But how couldn't he? This darkly clad man had sent spear length's pick spike through someone, who was obviously skilled both with blade and magic than Morgan could ever be, as if he were merely brushing the dust from his shoulder. Ambush was a key factor, of course, and things may have ended up different if the bandaged man did not have the element of surprise, but Morgan's senses warned the vampire in a most dire manner. 'This assassin - he is no thug, and he more than likely just as powerful as her... if not more so. The vampire's eyes wandered towards the man's weapon once more, and there! Morgan had seen it before but he did not know why it took him this long to make a connection: the demonic looking blade was very similar, if not exactly, the same shape and the same craftsmanship as "Blue's." Their power must be the same. 'It must.... Crimson eyes refocused themselves on their target and looked eye to eye (if such a thing had been possible between two masked faces).
Anger was beginning to well up inside him once more. But one thing was clear as Morgan attempted mentally steady himself, 'I cannot lose control again. She was powerful and I was fortunate that my reckless actions did not kill me. A steady, silent breath issued from his mouth, hand again clenching his weapon with assurance, confidence, 'To be Death's hand, I must be like him - cold, precise - without emotion.'
"But that is where you are mistaken."
Morgan would bound forward, speed increasing dramatically with the three, four steps before leaping over the alley's space. While his speed would be nothing that of what had been displayed towards Blue, it would indeed be a pace that would be breathtaking, particularly in such a small time frame. Once across the gap and landing on the occupied rooftop, the vampire would immediately spring into the air, planting his staff into the tiles with a tremendous crunch. Using the momentum of his unnatural speed, Morgan would springboard himself up into the air with his right hand, rolling into the action with a side flip, left glove balanced on the top of the now erect knobbed weapon.
The vampire's body now fully air bound, he continued his offensive action: Morgan's left hand would swiftly yank the weapon from the rooftop as his body moved forward in a cyclone of flying metal and wood. In a flourishing manner of spiraling destruction, the sniffer would make his move. Somewhere in between the whirling display of acrobatics and impossibly smooth landing, Morgan would be able to use his free hand to swiftly retract and wrap the long, attacking end of the weapon around to the opposite hand, transforming an overhead aerial attack into a sweeping motion. Hopefully (and with a little bit of luck), the staff's blow would at best, break the joint between upper and lower leg, or at worst, would send the smiling mask head over heels to the ground. Either way, if Thrainsson managed to get the enemy on his back, the vampire's weapon would whirl around and above to smash its butt into the man's left shoulder, attempting to brutally smash the blunt end through flesh and bone, in order to wrap a spare hand around the darkly clad man's throat.
All of this would be just as Morgan wanted: cold, calculated, precise. He was to bring souls to his only master. And if all of this was successful, the sniffer would speak to his pinned prey, "You denied me a soul for him, his hand." Morgan's gloved hand clenched tighter as he spat the last part of his sentence through clenched teeth. "Perhaps, it's fate though," A twisted smirk tugged at the right side of his face, words from moments ago trickling from his memory, as he continued to speak, "Better I kill you than her, yes?"
Crimson eyes shifted back towards the blue coated woman's killer, eyelids shutting ever so slightly in a suspicious manner. This man, was odd. His clothing was not in the form of a universal shirt, but as if he was wrapped for burial. But then, it transformed into something socially flexible, something casual, relaxed. Such attire was confusing, sending mixed messages, and causing Morgan to give this masked man a up-down look, taking as much detail as could. Irises locked onto the man's unique blade, 'Similar, but different?' The sniffer thought slowly, attempting to make some connection. However, he couldn't place his finger on it, for another thought came to mind, 'He could just be any assassin. After all, if Ms. Maggot-hatchery was an employee of the Duke, she could have many wanting her blood for something' Morgan would snort gently from his nose, amused by the given nickname. It may be too soon for some for such amusement, but Death had been pleased. Through this, Morgan was pleased. But an emotion of happiness would turn to an unsettled frown as he contemplated further, 'But pleased by some other hand.' Suddenly, the sniffer's thoughts were interrupted by the newest adversary:
""Would ya wait a minute, eh? I'd like to finish givin' ol' Blue 'er gift... I don't real have an' business with ya."
Morgan's grip tightened around his knobbed weapon, his mouth becoming a thin, firm line as the man continued, "Either of ya."
Morgan's eyes slight squint of suspicion began turning to a flash of scorn. If his face had been not clear, a dark cloud would have begun to brew on the otherwise emotionless face. As he observed the nonchalant killer, the roots of hate slowly burrowing themselves into his heart. 'This masked man's mannerisms and speech... It's almost as if he enjoys killing.' Morgan could not help but observe. But then again, why had it taken him so long. Perhaps this man felt an affinity with death, wrapping himself in lines of cloth, like the dead, and painting his 'face' with blood in a gruesome, comical way. Suddenly, Morgan would expertly spin his staff twice with his gloved right hand before planting the butt of the weapon sharply against the stone tiles with crushing *tack!* 'He has no fear.' The vampire thought, the right corner of his mouth would then lift ever so slightly as a spark of grim amusement stirred in his chest, At least, not yet. The sudden action was to attraction attention, demanding the floor for speech and thought. There would be no backing out, and Morgan knew there would be very little chance for surrender.
'He has strong magics' But how couldn't he? This darkly clad man had sent spear length's pick spike through someone, who was obviously skilled both with blade and magic than Morgan could ever be, as if he were merely brushing the dust from his shoulder. Ambush was a key factor, of course, and things may have ended up different if the bandaged man did not have the element of surprise, but Morgan's senses warned the vampire in a most dire manner. 'This assassin - he is no thug, and he more than likely just as powerful as her... if not more so. The vampire's eyes wandered towards the man's weapon once more, and there! Morgan had seen it before but he did not know why it took him this long to make a connection: the demonic looking blade was very similar, if not exactly, the same shape and the same craftsmanship as "Blue's." Their power must be the same. 'It must.... Crimson eyes refocused themselves on their target and looked eye to eye (if such a thing had been possible between two masked faces).
Anger was beginning to well up inside him once more. But one thing was clear as Morgan attempted mentally steady himself, 'I cannot lose control again. She was powerful and I was fortunate that my reckless actions did not kill me. A steady, silent breath issued from his mouth, hand again clenching his weapon with assurance, confidence, 'To be Death's hand, I must be like him - cold, precise - without emotion.'
"But that is where you are mistaken."
Morgan would bound forward, speed increasing dramatically with the three, four steps before leaping over the alley's space. While his speed would be nothing that of what had been displayed towards Blue, it would indeed be a pace that would be breathtaking, particularly in such a small time frame. Once across the gap and landing on the occupied rooftop, the vampire would immediately spring into the air, planting his staff into the tiles with a tremendous crunch. Using the momentum of his unnatural speed, Morgan would springboard himself up into the air with his right hand, rolling into the action with a side flip, left glove balanced on the top of the now erect knobbed weapon.
The vampire's body now fully air bound, he continued his offensive action: Morgan's left hand would swiftly yank the weapon from the rooftop as his body moved forward in a cyclone of flying metal and wood. In a flourishing manner of spiraling destruction, the sniffer would make his move. Somewhere in between the whirling display of acrobatics and impossibly smooth landing, Morgan would be able to use his free hand to swiftly retract and wrap the long, attacking end of the weapon around to the opposite hand, transforming an overhead aerial attack into a sweeping motion. Hopefully (and with a little bit of luck), the staff's blow would at best, break the joint between upper and lower leg, or at worst, would send the smiling mask head over heels to the ground. Either way, if Thrainsson managed to get the enemy on his back, the vampire's weapon would whirl around and above to smash its butt into the man's left shoulder, attempting to brutally smash the blunt end through flesh and bone, in order to wrap a spare hand around the darkly clad man's throat.
All of this would be just as Morgan wanted: cold, calculated, precise. He was to bring souls to his only master. And if all of this was successful, the sniffer would speak to his pinned prey, "You denied me a soul for him, his hand." Morgan's gloved hand clenched tighter as he spat the last part of his sentence through clenched teeth. "Perhaps, it's fate though," A twisted smirk tugged at the right side of his face, words from moments ago trickling from his memory, as he continued to speak, "Better I kill you than her, yes?"
Post is up! Hopefully, it was enough (and I'm assuming the consequences of revealing his skin to the sun will be recognized later - right now, he's solely focused on one thing. Willpower is a terrible thing :P)
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