Avatar of Scrapula
  • Last Seen: 6 yrs ago
  • Joined: 9 yrs ago
  • Posts: 429 (0.13 / day)
  • VMs: 0
  • Username history
    1. Scrapula 9 yrs ago

Status

User has no status, yet

Bio

User has no bio, yet

Most Recent Posts

@Denny @Scrapula

Yo! @ERode Wants me to tell you two that Depths, Vestige (and Stigmas) are supposed to be sent via PM to him! He can't tell you himself rn because he's out for the day buuuut also wants to start the RP soon. Hence him asking me to ask you.

Thanks for your understanding!


It's not a big problem that people see our character's personalities before they play with us, is it? Eh, it's not too much trouble to change my sheet.
Now stop commenting and get your CS done, Juan.

@Scrapula Reread the Character Sheet and provide a picture that actually features the lad's face if you can. The damage is already done though, I suppose. Good armor is hard to find, though, so if he has a complex, expect him to just be wearing weird masks until the income gets made. Less viking boi and more paperbag boi.

As a general reminder, stats that are set to anything that features an A are really rather good. If you slap on A+, that's basically saying that your character is prodigious, renown for their ability in that particular field. These aren't the types of As you get in elementary school simply by listening in class. Just so y'all have an understanding of it~


My apologies, but I can't find a good enough picture for a late-20s bald Nordic man with second-degree burns. I mean, aside from running the bad guy from Uncharted 2 through one of those face changer programs. Just imagine that you're looking at a blistered, younger version of Eiður Guðjohnsen.
I made a big guy. His name is Sigmar!


Shit, there was not a single word in that last sentence I didn't like. You've got my interest!
It took a bit, but I've finished up my character. I made a pangolin man, because pangolins are pretty cute!

I know you've got some guys making sheets already, but do you mind if I hop in as well?
@Menhir Do you think the crew would have a space for a master of jury-rigging? I was thinking of something along the lines of "quartermaster who makes do with garbage and only garbage".
Ash Glenwood was having a terrible day. First his boss got on his ass for failing to deliver that TPS report, and now an unending horde of demons was erupting from the ground and slaughtering everyone in their path. Well, he certainly wasn't going to take that sitting down. He took the shotgun he'd been keeping under his desk for just such an occasion and mounted a thrilling evacuation of his office building. Horned demons, crimson mannequins, scythe-wielding sickos; all of them fell like shingles under a hail of righteous buckshot.

When Mister Glenwood had fought his way to the ground floor, trailing a grateful army of coworkers behind him, he pushed through the lobby with tremendous determination. He would survive this! Which made it quite surprising when, the moment he made it out to the street, he was flattened by a runaway Spanish warship.

"Take a look at this, Cap'n," Navigator Juarez pushed a pilfered atlas into Alonzo's hands. "We're about a half-mile out from the city square. Lookout says there's a sort of civilian militia up ahead. Folks in armor, folks with odd clothing... folks with crosses."

Alonzo's fingers turned white as he tightened his grip on the wheel. "Demon Hunters," he snarled. "Have the men prepare firebombs. When we pass, drop everything we've got on the bastards." Alonzo cupped his hands and called to his men on the riggings. "Furl the sails, men! I want these bastards to get a good look at the man sending them back to their maker!"

As the Revengeance found its way to the street Juarez had talked about, Alonzo found a chance to observe who these Demon Hunters were. Two priestly fellows were in a sort of large, rectangular carriage, talking to some civilians. Two men were on a roof nearby, talking about something. One man, dressed in plated armor, was running down the middle of the street. Aside from that, the streets were packed with civilians and corpses. The crew had their targets, and just in time; Edwards had been busy filling rum bottles with gasoline and passing them to any free hand.

As the Revengeance entered onto the street, any crewman with a firebomb made his move. From a pedestrian's perspective, it must have been an awesome sight-- a full-fledged ship of the line tearing a massive gash through solid asphalt, flaming bottles spilling from its flanks like confetti at a parade.

The bus was showered in molotov cocktails, covering everything immediately outside of it in burning fuel and shards. Two well-aimed bottles crashed through the bus's ruined windows, setting the seats ablaze and filling the aisles with glittering glass.
@gentlemanvaultboy
@David Gorgon

The armored man in the street met a terrible shower of debris as the Revengeance passed by him, narrowly avoiding him by mere yards. Thrown molotov cocktails and scattered pavement clattered against his armor as the crew rained fire down on him. As quickly as it came, the Revengeance tore a path along the street away from him.
@GarlandDaHero

"Ya think that did anything to 'em, cap'n?" First Mate Edwards asked, wiping gasoline off his hands with a damp rag.

"No. But if these young ones are as easily enflamed as their ancestors, they'll come for us regardless. You have my commendations, Mister Edwards." Alonzo laughed quietly at the thoughts his enemies must be having by now, and oriented the ship straight towards the city square. Whatever happened now, he would gladly meet it head-on.
The mighty prow of Alonzo's ship soared high above the street as it drove ponderously along the street. Having steered itself into the left lane, the ship cheerily tore through traffic. Those too slow to flee their cars were crushed under the ship's relentless keel, passengers and all.

On the bridge, Alonzo relished in the grand nostalgia of captainship, happily aware of the dozens of lives he was destroying with every meter of progress he made. The feeling got him to thinking. All the while he had been mouldering and rotting in his prison, he had only thought of escape. He'd forgotten everythng-- the motivations of his crew, where he had buried his treasure, even the name of his boat. What was the name of his boat? Alonzo decided to give it a new name, whatever its old one was.

"All hands on deck," Alonzo called, "we've been aboard this accursed tub for so long, even its name escapes me. Well, no more! From this day onward, we are all crewed aboard the Revengeance! No longer will we suffer under the shackles of those too afraid to allow us our freedom, and those too proud to relinquish their goods! We will earn our rightful positions on Earth and on Hell! We shall have our revengeance, men!"

A rousing cheer came up from the crew, thrilled at the prospects of plunder in their immediate future. As they worked, they gossipped about glory and victory, and all the lovely shiny things they'd decorate their thrones with.

Somewhere between the smoking ruins of Fifth Street and the cratered mess that was Oak Boulevard, a demon driving a car drove by the ship.

"Cap'n! Thar be a little fellow trying to catch our attention on the port side!" cried First Mate Edwards.

"Oh? What's it saying?" said Alonzo, not taking his eyes off the wheel.

Edwards shrugged. "Dunno, cap'n. 'E's a house-length away from us an' he ain't using semaphores. Your orders?"

"Ah," Alonzo sighed, "have the men shoot the little cretin from the deck. Maintain our course."

A trio of men dutifully brought their muskets to the side of the Revengeance and began taking potshots at the low-riding demon. Though the muskets were hideously inaccurate, the men had nothing but time to practice their marksmanship, and a few stray bullets thudded into the car's windows. The Revengeance sailed on. Alonzo was set to reach the city square within the next few minutes, and he would not be deterred by neither rain nor snow nor debauched demon drag-racing.
Alonzo Gaspar de Aguirre, the Pirate King of Hell




Biography

Alonzo Gaspar de Aguirre was born in the year of our lord 1650; he never knew who his mother was, or why his father refused to ever speak about her. Alonzo's childhood was fraught with tragedy, seemingly engineered by outside forces to destroy his morals and drive him into the horrors of crime. At the ripe age of 13, Alonzo was hired onto a Spanish merchantman as a mere assistant to the bo'sun. After a mere three years in service, the crew he was serving with mutinied. Alonzo never figured out why he was mutinying, but he took it in stride as he helped his new mates haul the old captain into his new position at the ship's keel. That night, Alonzo crept into his new captain's quarters with a boning knife and secured command of the ship. With his position confirmed, Alonzo hoisted the black flag and prepared for his new life.

On Alonzo's thirtieth birthday, his ship was assaulted at sea by some invisible force. His crew had been slaughtered to a man, and he himself had been bound with black ivy in his sleep. His captor loomed over him and offered him a deal: bring himself into servitude or be executed. With no other options, Alonzo accepted, and his captor warmly welcomed him... as mother to son. He, she explained, was an experiment. Her name was Scylla, and she was eager to see how he had grown.

Under the command of his demonic mother, Alonzo was granted insight into his parentage and training for his powers. In exchange, Alonzo would perform certain... tasks for his father. Thwarting the plans of her rivals, blunting the teeth of those who would hunt her, and granting her followers ever greater power amongst human and demon society.

Over years of terror and conquest, Alonzo and his mother grew confident and lazy. A group of church operatives, masquerading as pirate hunters, had managed to corner his and her fleet off the northeastern coast of the New World. Alonzo's men fought bravely as Scylla brought the very ocean to bear against her pursuers, but eventually the church prevailed. Alonzo, his men, and Scylla were forced onto the coast and sealed for centuries in the cold ground. But over the years, the continuing corruption of humanity has weakened the magics that sealed Alonzo, and now he and his allies are free again to wreak havoc on a changed world. Now fueled only by his lust for power, Alonzo prowls the land, immortal and hateful.

Devil Arm: Lamia, the Grappling Sword

The Lamia is a rapier created from the demon of the same name. Its grip and guard are inlaid with beautiful spirals of gold and silver, and the blade is much thicker than most normal rapiers. When Alonzo strikes with Lamia, the blade magically flexes and grows, trying to entangle its target. The blade is lined with thousands of sharp teeth, too small to be seen but sharp enough to shred and shatter anything it wraps around.

Firearm: Roc, the Golden Cannon

Roc is a powerful matchlock pistol formed out of Lamia's defeated comrade and lover. Inlaid with gold and decorated with ancient wood, the Roc is impossibly beautiful. But when it fires, the Roc unleashes a terrible blast of fire and wind that can peel steel apart and vaporize flesh. Roc doesn't need ammunition to fire, and has a range of only a couple yards before the blast wave it released dissipates into uselessness.

Skills/Abilities

Blue Stinger: Control over one's aerial movements is surprisingly simple, once you get the hang of it. Alonzo has developed the ability to send himself hurtling swordfirst through the air, even from a standing position.

Seaman: Scylla's mastery over the oceans of the world has been somewhat passed down to Alonzo. Though he cannot will water to wipe out his foes, his motions are extremely fluid underwater and anyone attempting to move through water near him will find themselves floundering uselessly.

Thunder Force: Being sealed has given Alonzo hundreds of years to practice the fine arts of aerodynamics using Roc as his favored launching tool. By simply aiming his handcannon backwards and firing, Alonzo can send himself flying.

Crazy Taxi: Alonzo is, as any good captain should be, intricately linked to his ship. This link is so profound that it is willing to ferry him across any surface it can conceivably fit on. Be it sea, land, or air, Alonzo's ship is more than capable of fording it. When Alonzo wishes, he can send it hauling into the realm between worlds, allowing it to follow him without attracting much attention.

Ghost Squad: Alonzo's ghostly crew are forced to serve him even after their mortal lives. If Alonzo so wishes, he can instantly teleport a small handful of undead pirates to assist him. The pirates themselves are barely stronger than normal humans only due to their inability to feel pain, and Alonzo can only call on up to five of them at a time.

Other: Alonzo has no idea what modern society or technology is like, and is frankly insulted that the Age Of Wooden Ships And Iron Men has long passed. Nothing can convince him to upgrade his ship, though he may be willing to steal more advanced weaponry and plunder the treasures of the Information Age. Thar be gold in them circuits, after all!
© 2007-2024
BBCode Cheatsheet