SheriffLlama

E x ᴄ ᴀ ᴠ ᴀ ᴛ ɪ ᴏ ɴ

@Apoalo Sawyer can teach them both the wonders of smoking. He'll be a great influence.

Questing for Reality

Kingslayer

Virtual Reality World: Champions Football // The Elder Scrolls: Skyrim

The avatar of Roman Lee, a tall and athletic man by the username of "Kingslayer," sprinted forward at full force. On any given day, he sometimes sprinted down a battlefield with a sword in hand. Other days, he ran through the crosshairs of simulated gunfire and elite soldiers. Today, however, Kingslayer's feet carried him down a long green pitch. His cleats hit the ground as he moved as fast as his upgraded speed skills would allow him to. He slowed only as he reached the last defender of the opposing team. The left forward, a player named "DannyBoy," reached the defenders as well, several meters from the 18 line. DannyBoy took a single, swift kick and punted the football across the pitch towards Kingslayer. Now rid of the danger of being called offsides, the latter burst forward, his stamina bar rapidly draining. As he raced forward, he could see the clock in his HUD. It read 89:52. They had 8 seconds to score a goal and advanced the 2-2 draw.

The ball sailed through the air, curving in a nearly perfect arch, or so DannyBoy had intended. It seemed as though the ball was coming in short, leading Kingslayer to curve his run into the keeper's box. He burned past the last defender as the ball sailed towards the ground, near to landing between him and the keeper. As the keeper stepped from the goal to get to the ball, Slayer lunged upward, his boot catching the ball with his first touch and sending the ball into a volley. The keeper dove forward, hands reaching for the ball, but Slayer jumped over him, feeling weightless in the air. His right, preferred foot came swinging as his body tilted into a near backflip. His boot made solid contact with the ball, as he performed an almost perfect bicycle kick, sending it flying into the middle of the net as Slayer rolled on the ground with a thud.

A shout sounded from the animated spectators and the players on the field rushed towards him. Kingslayer jumped to his feet as the clock sounded and a loud horn signaled the finale of the match. His teamates rushed towards them, shouting in excitement as they all surged towards the righthand corner of the field. Kingslayer reached the corner flag and slid down onto his knees, in a dramatic celebration. As the other players swarmed him, he pounded his chest.

He stood as DannyBoy sprinted over, jumping on top of him. "What a ball, Slayer!"

"Great cross, man!" He exclaimed as the end-match stats. Kingslayer checked his stats, two goals; one assist. As all of the players were returned to Homeworld, Kingslayer's football uniform was changed with his default outfit - black pants, brown boots, and a white t-shirt.

The player opened his HUD Menu and teleported himself to his In-Game home, a lavish penthouse apartment in the Virtual Rendition of Uptown New York. The apartment was a very expensive home, and it was obvious by all of its bells and whistles. He walked to the office space, unlocked it with a keypad that only he knew that combination to. He shut the door behind him and crossed the office to the large bay widow that looked over the virtual city. He often found himself gazing through this window, entranced by what he saw. Everything from the sun overhead to the fabricated smoke from factories, all of it was so real... but in the back of his head, he knew he was only looking at translated 1's and 0's.

He sighed, turned, and sat in a high backed chair in front of his desk. He opened his HUD Menu, selecting his friends list. He spotted his sister's username, and saw that she was playing Skyrim. He sighed, opened a drop-down menu and fast travelled to his car garage. As he entered, he walked past several luxury cars, two of which he'd won in VR Football tournaments. He then passed his collection of eight motorcycles, each having a different specialty. He found his car of choice; a matte black Virtual Model of a Lamborghini Aventador. A swift motion of his hand signaled the car's program to activate, and the suicide doors slid up into the air. He climbed in, pressed the button to shut the doors, and activated the push-to-start ignition. The igntion caught and the vehicle quite literally roared to life.

Roman pulled the supercar to the garage door, which opened automatically. He pulled out onto the streets of virtual New York, and sped away at with a squeal of his tires. A drive that should've taken a normal player about ten minutes only took Roman two minutes and fifteen seconds. He reached a portal hub in a fancy part of the city. As he reached the valet spot, he slid the car to a halt with a skid of his tires. He stepped out and the car vanished in a slew of hexagons, only to return when he himself returned. Several player standing close by were picking up their jaws after his super car had pulled through.

Roman reached the portals and selected the fantasy world he desired. As he shifted into the world of Skyrim, his expensive, modern clothes were traded for something more fitting of a Medieval Fantasy Realm. He wore a tan tunic, brown boots, and black belted pants at his waist, upon which hung an ornate black dagger with a curved blade and sheath. His house was a secluded home in the mountains of the Eastmarch Hold, about ten miles from the nearest town of Kynesgrove. In the middle of the main room was a firepit, surrounded by small benches. Upon one of these benches sat an NPC, a large Orismer warrior by the name of Nargosh. The NPC was his personal companion for when he didn't have his sister or friends to play alongside him. He walked towards the door and equipped his travel gear - a set of elven light armor and an orcish short sword with shock damage enchantments. It wasn't his strongest, but it was enough to hold him off if he needed to get out of a situation while traveling.

As he beckoned his companion out of the door to his home, he squinted his eyes to adjust to the light of the forest. Amongst the quiet of the wooded region, he heard the sound of bootfall to his left. He quickly cast a spell in his right hand to detect nearby enemies. He saw the first player stand from his crouched position behind a tree, drawing his bow as he stood. The arrow from the players bow sailed and hit the ground in front of Kingslayer's feet.

"GIVE US BACK THE SPELL TOMES AND WE WON'T KILL YOU!" Another player shouted as he and five others stepped out from their various hiding places. He strategically planned his next move as the group of Player Bandits formed a circle around the front of his home, meanwhile he discreetly sent a group message to three players. The one who had yelled was a steel-armored player named B4DB0Y and wielded an elven war-axe.

"I don't have the spell tome, our guild mage has already used it." He said, truthfully. About three days ago, he and a group of friends had stolen a tome from a bandit camp, but they'd had to fight these guys to get it. They'd won that fight by a mile. "And you lost, last time around."

"Well there's only one of you here!" B4DB0Y yelled. "You and your Orc are way outnumbered, dude! It's 6 on 2"

In his offhand, Roman summoned an invisibility spell into his right hand, casting it and sprinting quickly as he drew his sword. Though the spell cost him all of his magika, it was worth it. He rounded the tree where the archer stood and quickly executed three quickstrikes, draining his HP to 10 Points. As the cloak faded from the brief seconds of invisibility, Roman swung towards the Archer's neck, executing a kill animation and decapitating the avatar; hence what happened when you challenged a player that was nearly 20 levels higher than you.

"Attack!" He yelled to Nargosh. The Orc sprang into programmed combat moves as he engaged a leather armored player. On Kingslayer's right was a Avi in storm cloak armor, who swung his Warhammer into his left shoulder, sending Roman's avatar toppling over. His upgraded agility allowed him to recover quickly, rolling to his feet. Warhammer-boy swung again, but Kingslayer rolled to the right, leaving the hammer to crash into a tree. While the player was recovering, Roman activated his special ability as an Imperial character to increase his luck and raise his chance at a critical hit for fifteen seconds. He swung down at the player, his own sword activating the critical hit and allowing him another kill animation, in which he slid the tip of his katana through the players ribcage, then ripped him to the ground.

Roman turned in time to see Nargosh use his Battleaxe to slice through B4DB0Y's armor, sending him to Valhalla as well. Nargosh's HP was drastically low, but he could only see one player left. Nargosh switched paths and focused his attacks towards the final player - a female mage called KandyMandy. The player drew her hands as Nargosh swung what Roman thought would be a fatal blow. Instead of getting hitting, KandyMandy thrust her palms outward, summoning a massive arch of flame and striking Nargosh in the chestplate. "Ah, crap..."Kingslayer muttered to himself as his companion fell. He flipped his katana and prepared to fight, sprinting forward at the mage. KandyMandy was not prepared to receive his lightning-charged blade, and she toppled over, but her HP didn't drain, but was rather only damaged slightly. He slid to the ground and she left her right hand to cast a spell at him. He pinned her hand to the ground and reared back to stab her, but she opened her mouth and led out an earth-shaking cry.

"FUS ROH DAH!!" Her magic cry sent him flying backwards, sailing into the wall of his home. As Kingslayer hit the ground, he swore, his HP bar dropping lower than he would've liked. An alert on his HUD read, "You've been paralyzed". He could see KandyMandy walking towards him, summoning a firebolt spell in her right hand. She charged it, preparing to kill him. She thrust her hand forward, casting the spell. Just as the bolt of fire formed in her hand, a horse rider charged into the clearing, swinging a glass warhammer into the mage. He body went limp as the charged attack dropped her HP to 0, and the avatar did a dramatic flip before hitting the ground with a dull thump. Kingslayer sighed in relief as he felt his avatar being able to move again, just in time. The horse trotted to a halt in the middle of the clearing and the rider jumped down. The player was a tall, muscular avatar named Ganandork - the tank of Kingslayer's guild.

"Dude, did hear that chick use Thu'Um." He asked as he walked over to Roman, who stood to his feet.

"Yeah." He said, high fiving his friend. Ganandork gave an awed laugh.

"Did you ask her where she got the words and the dragon souls?" He asked.

"No, Gan. I was trying not to die and loose my gear."

"Dude, check out her mage robes! Jaxter could totally use them." Ganandork leaned over the dead mage and began looting the avatar's corpse.

"Oh come on, I can buy Jax some of those, don't take her clothes-"He said, but Ganandork took the avatar's mage robes, leaving the dead body in nothing but underwear. "C'mon, have some decency."

"Dude, all these guys gotta have something on them." Ganandork began searching the other bodies, leaving Kingslayer to shake his head.

"Okay, you have fun violating dead bodies. I'll be in Whiterun meeting my sister." He said, only receiving a distracted wave from his guildmate. He opened his menu and selected fast travel, transporting himself to Whiterun.

E x ᴄ ᴀ ᴠ ᴀ ᴛ ɪ ᴏ ɴ

Sawyer DuPont

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Sawyer DuPont

_{I don’t care if nicotine kills me. At this rate, the Alligator will do it first.}

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▾ Name:

”Name’s Sawyer Henry Dupont, but call me Sawyer. For real, only Sawyer, I’ll hit anyone that calls me Henry.

▾ Age:

”Eighteen in body, my dude.”

▾ Gender:

”Yeah… I mean it’s down there, so you know…”

▾ Sexuality:

”Definitely into girls, man.”

▾ Piercings, Tattoos, Scars:

”Well my jerk of a dad gave me a scar on my back…”

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▾Creative▾Kinda Rude▾ Empathetic▾Selectively Apathetic▾

▾ Personality:

Sawyer is definitely an interesting character. He was handed a very bad hand in life and plenty of daddy issues. He’s definitely a guy with a lot of internal anger that he doesn’t always know how to deal with. He finds his release in skating, smoking, vaping, weed, etc. Sometimes, however, his anger expresses itself through him shouting at walls and hitting things. He’s not a bad guy, though. He does care about his friends, but he just doesn’t always realize how much. At first glance, especially to those who don’t know him well, he can come off as a total jerk. Those who are friends with him know he’s not too bad.

▾ Hobbies & Interests:

• Skating
• Hanging out with his friends
• Vaping

▾ Likes & Dislikes:

+ Alternative Music (TOP, P!ATD, etc.)
+ Skating around town
+ Parties
+ Vape pens that smell good
- Drunks
- Bullies
- Abusive People
- Lousy Dads

▾ Other:

Sawyer’s Vape Pen. His favorite juice flavor is mango.

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▾ Biography:

Sawyer's life was unfortunately never a contender to be made into a hallmark movie. His mom was only 17 when she had him, and she'd had a horrible addiction to cocaine. When she gave birth, both of the almost died, but the doctors managed to save Sawyer, though not his mother. His mother's family had long since disowned her, so Sawyer's much older father, Jacob Riter, was left to care for his son by himself, as his family was across the country. Naturally, Riter was not the picture of maturity and fatherhood, and quickly fell into an addiction to all things alcoholic. He constantly slept around in his younger years and often came home with a random girl.

This lifestyle was obviously not a great environment for Sawyer to grow up in, and he was practically forced to raise himself. His dad made sure he had food, but that was about it. On more than one occasion came home wasted and aggressive, and Sawyer became best friends with his dad's strength and often his belt. This led to many fights between them, and when Sawyer was old enough, he decided to fight back for a change. He hit his dad over the head with a whiskey bottle, but his dad was still bigger and stronger than him. He beat him to a pulp, and used a studded belt to put a long scar across Sawyer's back.

When police were alerted to this Jacob Riter was immediately arrested. Being 16 at the time, Sawyer chose to file for Child Emancipation, and was granted it. He was allowed to live by himself instead of going to foster care. About six months later, he was called by his estranged aunt Rachel, his dad's sister. She moved down to Dixie Inn to help him, even though he was legally independent. He on Wednesdays and Sundays cleaning tables at a local diner.

E x ᴄ ᴀ ᴠ ᴀ ᴛ ɪ ᴏ ɴ

@Gowi I got you, man. My character's kind of a jerk

E x ᴄ ᴀ ᴠ ᴀ ᴛ ɪ ᴏ ɴ

@MissCapnCrunch Was gonna use my old characters but decided to make a new cs. I'll have it up today.

Questing for Reality

Kingslayer

(Called “Slayer” by players)

Avatar Appearance

Avatar's Appearance:
Kingslayer stands at a balanced 6’2 (not too tall, not too short), and has a lean but muscled frame. He is essentially modeled to be Roman’s ideal image. Kingslayer compensates for his physical shortcomings in the VR World.

Avatar's Gender: Male

Avatar's Personality: While playing as Kingslayer, Roman is much more confident in himself, and less introverted. He’s not as outgoing as Sarah, but still he is a little more open. He’s very much level-headed in tense situations. In VR Sports, he’ll take the lead position; in VR MMO’s, he’ll never back down from a Quest.

Preferred worlds: “Champions Football”, Fantasy Worlds, Some Fandoms

Roman Lee

Real World Appearance

Appearance:
Roman is a shorter guy, standing about 5’8 and has a thin frame. He has a very high muscle percentage but he is still lean. He has long brown hair and a smooth face with brown eyes.

Gender:
Male

Age:
19, born February 17th.

Personality:
Roman is introverted and quiet. He isn’t shy or nervous, he just prefers to be quiet. He’s very thoughtful, but the only person that really knows that is his sister. He has a bit of a quick temper, especially when someone is messing with his family. When he gets angry, he vents himself through exercise and works off his emotions. He

History:
Roman’s mother fled a small Italian village to the United States to hopefully find refuge from the harsh conditions of society. Hearing that it was better than Europe’s situation, she wanted to find shelter for her unborn child. When she found that she was no better off in America, she decided it would be better for her baby to give it up for adoption in hopes that a family with more resources could raise him. Unbeknownst to the young woman, the Lee’s were more than capable of providing for her boy. The Lee’s were very wealthy scientists who were part of a team that was researching methods of combating climate change.

Though he wasn’t adopted until the age of 8, he was still ecstatic to have a family. The Lee’s having adopted another child, a young girl named Sarah, Roman also now had a sister. His reserved personality only breaks around Sarah, who is his best friend in the world.

Expertise: Roman is a very skilled footballer, and has considered going to Professional Combine Camps.

E x ᴄ ᴀ ᴠ ᴀ ᴛ ɪ ᴏ ɴ

@MissCapnCrunch Capn! I was in the first run for this game, could I resubmit my old sheets?

The Unwanted.

Well I wrote a mob scene, so that happened... to intense?

The Unwanted.

DeMarcus and Parker Blake

Location: Police Station
Interacting With: Cops / Angry Mob

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DeMarcus watched as Elijah tended to the girl, Lynette, if he was correct. He turned to walk out of the room as the man asked for a first aid kit. As soon as he stepped out, however, he heard the banging against the station door. He heard the voices, too - Angry voices. He saw that Lorrie was looking in the same direction, worry on her face. "Sheriff!" He shouted. "You might wanna get in here!" The man walked towards the door as Deputy McFarland ran to it. He opened the doors and exposed DeMarcus' ears to the cacophony of voices that came from the mob of people outside the station. He decided to hang back inside as McFarland exited the building.

"SEND OUT THE FREAKS!" Several of the crowd members yelled, mainly the ones on the front line of the mob.

"You folks need to get back, or we will have to enforce the law!" McFarland yelled, his hand hovering near the revolver the was belted to his waist. "You can address us in a civilized manner!" Someone in the front of the crowd turned and waved for people to calm down, and after a moment, the mob of voices died and let silence hang over the area. "Now, what in tarnation do you people want?!"

"We seen you boys draggin' Elijah Craigh and them other folks in the back of yer' cars!" An old man, about two feet shorter than DeMarcus, said. "We know them's a bunch'a powered freaks like rumors been talkin'!"

"I don't know what you want, but these folks are under police custody!" McFarland retorted.

"We went them freaks out here so we can deal with them ourselves and protect this town!"
"YEAH!!" The crowd joined together to cheer.

With a new anger, DeMarcus marched past McFarland and stepped closer to the crowd. By far the largest person in present company, his advance made the frontline of the crowd scurry backwards, startled and slightly frightened. "Protect the town!?" He exclaimed, a bewildered look plastered across his face. "You folks are the ones mobbin' in front of the police station! You're the only danger!" He shook his head in disbelief. "I ain't done a thing to earn your fear! We're good people, all of us! What have we done to frighten you people?!"

A man stepped from the crowd, the sight of whom put a sick feeling in DeMarcus' stomach - Jacob Maclinton. "We ain't scared'a you, Blake!" Maclinton declared in a thick southern drawl. He reeked of tobacco and his disgusting overalls were stained with liquor and booze. "We just ain't fans of freaks like you! You ain't what God made people to be!"

"Maclinton, I bet God cringes ever time you open your mouth. You don't know what you're talkin' about." DeMarcus shook his head. "You need to leave us alone!" He turned, shaking his head and walking back towards McFarland. As he turned, he didn't see the crowbar the slid from Maclinton's sleeve. The man swung, and nailed DeMarcus in the back, sending him to his knees. Deputy McFarland pulled his gun, stopping Maclinton as he was an inch from DeMarcus, ready to swing again. Shouts went up from the crowd as the firearm was pulled.

"Jacob you step yourself right on back there, ya hear me, boy!?" The man said, but Maclinton didn't move, but he bent of and leaned into DeMarcus' ear.

"We're gon kill all'a you sumbitches, ya hear me? They gon' do your little whore sister like they did Tillie Hilton, Blake. Ya hear?" Maclinton spat on DeMarcus' face.

Pure, unbridled rage flowed through DeMarcus as he wiped Maclinton's tobacco filthy spit from his face. "Shut your dam-" Maclinton shoved DeMarcus' shoulder, even though the gesture didn't move him like intended. The redneck laughed like a disgusting hyena.

"You ain't gon' do jack..." He leaned right over DeMarcus' head, his lips nearly touching his ears. "...nigger boy."

DeMarcus felt something inhuman inside him. It wasn't the rage, no the rage was pure, human anger. It was the strength that filled his arms. That, indeed, was not human. He swiveled with astonishing speed, his hand catching Maclinton in the throat. McFarland shouted in protest, but DeMarcus didn't register his voice. Instead, he lifted Maclinton in the air and slammed him onto the cement walkway, sending the whole crowd scattering backwards with shouts of fear and probably breaking several of Maclinton's bones.

With a furrowed brow and a tensed face that radiated his rage, DeMarcus knelt over the man. He put his lips close to his ears, just as Maclinton had done to him. "You keep my sister's name outa your filthy, racist, inbred mouth, or I will snap your neck like a twig!" He stood as the crowd was dead silent, the only audible sound being DeMarcus' deep breathing. He watched the crowd and shook his head in disgust at them.

"DeMarcus!" A new voice broke the silence - Sheriff Linehouse. "Step back and let me deal with these people!" He commanded. This time, however, DeMarcus obeyed and stepped away. The crowd erupted into shouts as they jeered at DeMarcus, surging toward him. They only stopped when three deputies came to Linehouse' side and racked the pumps on their shotguns.

McFarland ushered DeMarcus back inside. DeMarcus saw parker standing by the door, her camera out. A red flashing light told him that she was recording. She'd seen all of it and gotten it all on camera. He sighed as he walked to her. She stopped recording and put her camera down, letting it hang from the strap around her neck. He stood beside her as Linehouse and the deputies shut the doors. "Lorrie, call for backup from the state office, Maclinton's boys are gonna be back, and they'll be packin'."

DeMarcus had a feeling that Linehouse was right. The mob would come back stronger, and they'd try to kill them, with or without police involvement. This was Harlan, Kentucky - this was not a friendly town to outsiders. They were outsiders, now. They were unwanted, unwelcome. This couldn't be the place that he and his sister called home anymore.

The Unwanted.

@AcerRo riot it is!