Current
I am going to smuggle wholesomeness into your RPs and there's not a damned thing any of you can do to stop me.
5
likes
2 yrs ago
"Bud, you're like a pizza cutter; All edge and no point!"
6
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2 yrs ago
Habanero ain't the spiciest pepper but it's pretty tasty on things, ya gotta admit.
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2 yrs ago
And in addition to boneless wings being overrated; Anybody who looks at sauced and tossed wings, lovingly spiced and perfectly crispy and says; 'I'mma dunk that in blue cheese' has missed the point.
Well, right now Duncan's just standing in the street whatting the hell out over the fact that he's now in some mystical anime fantasy land. Then once @Skepic gets their post up, he's gonna meet up with Addison where they'll presumably have a pleasantly veteran picnic with punch and pie and neither of those things and a gratuitous amount of swearing.
And then he'll probably be looking for a job.
Most likely one that involves punching bad guys in the face.
They said he had to look his best for this bullshit formal dinner and, staring at himself in the mirror in his bedroom, eyeballing his immaculate red serge with it's polished buttons, Corporal's chevrons, shiny leather cross-strap and belt and a left breast festooned with medals; a Medal and Star of Military Valour, a Star of Bravery, a Cross of Valour and the two American odd-balls, a Bronze Star and a Distinguished Service Cross, Duncan came to one conclusion:
He looked like Dudley Freakin' Do-Right. And it was pissing him off.
With a few grumbled profanities, the bald man put on his campaign hat and went over to and opened up his desk drawer to retrieve his sidearm, an old Smith & Wesson Model 10 revolver that was supposed to have been completely replaced within the force about a decade or two ago by more modern, semi-automatic models, but still kicked around in small numbers due to that oldest of the RCMP's enemies- budget constraints. Giving it a once-over, Duncan opened another drawer and the strongbox within it where he kept his ammunition, loading the weapon and holstering it, as well as putting three speed-loaders of ammunition in the appropriate pouch on his belt.
Next he reached his gloved hands back into his weapons drawer and produced the one thing guaranteed to always make him smile; his knife. A little heirloom made by his grandfather's grandfather (coincidentally, also named Duncan) with a handle of carved elk bone and an eight-inch blade before he set out for the Boer War. It saw extremely liberal use before he came home and passed it off to his son (another Duncan) who graciously shared his love for this magical-murder-implement with the forces of the Central Powers before he too came home and passed it onto his son (yet another Duncan), who gleefully took it right back to Europe with him to demonstrate to the Germans why their fathers couldn't seem to get a good night's sleep without waking up screaming and covered in fear-pee. He too, eventually came home, leaving again for a lovely little jaunt through Korea before coming back again to wait until he was old and absolutely out of fucks to give before passing it on to his grandson.
It wasn't exactly pretty to look at, what with four generations of use and the fact that 'The damned thing's been in more men than a proctologist's finger!' as his grampa always used to brag. Still, one who knew what they were looking for could see how much love and affection had been poured into the object over the years; from it's carefully sharpened edge, the beautiful engravings on the handle and the lack of rust-spots caused by blood; evidence that whoever used it for it's intended purpose, and it had quite clearly been used a whole hell of a lot for that purpose, had been extremely diligent in cleaning it afterward.
With a small grin, MacAiden strapped it to his leg with a little contraption his granddad rigged together back in Italy when he realized he had too much shit in his pockets and hanging off his belt, where he could hide it in his boot where his boss wouldn't see it and subsequently freak out.
'Won't be so bad...' he thought to himself as he put on his boots, not believing a damned word of it, but thinking all the same 'Food's free. And all I've got to do is shut up and smile like a fuckin' idiot every time some jackass MP wants a picture next to the dangling bits of metal hangin' over my left tit...'
With one last look in the mirror, the now fully-dressed Mountie took a slight breath, put his hands on his hips and nodded not approvingly, but grudgingly accepting of what he saw.
"Well... Let's get this show on the road."
Had he any idea of how literally the universe would take his comment, he probably would've just stayed in bed that day. For not a heartbeat after those words left his throat, did he find himself standing in the middle of a ruined cobblestone street.
"...What."
A street filled with bizarrely-dressed people, some with honest-to-god animal ears sticking out of their heads, who were coming out of apparent hiding to watch as the street began repairing itself, apparently obeying the deft hand-waving of some silver-haired woman in the distance.
Sorry I've been lagging behind getting my intro-post up, this night shift's killing me and I've been waking up pretty much at go-to-work time all week. I'll get something up when @Skepic and @liferusher finish their grand slam street-brawl, swear on me mum. <_<
...Also, I am mildly terrified about Zin's reaction if she ever meets Duncan.
Had a thought on that, actually, would it be alright if I played it like the two have actually met before?
Duncan was in the infantry and Addy is a medic that jumps out of choppers 'n shit, so it wouldn't exactly be far-fetched that they ran into eachother once or twice on the base in Kandahar... or, more likely, the back of a Blackhawk with her trying to literally pull chunks of shrapnel out of his ass with a pair of needle-nose pliers.
Divine Protection Blessing of the Painted Man: Duncan has, albeit unwittingly and despite his relatively short stature, acquired immense physical strength in his crossing over to this world. Enough that his bare fist can punch a hole through solid plate armour while his abnormal muscle density makes it tougher for knives and other small stabbing weapons to make a deep wound. Swords and axes, however, are still very much effective by virtue of their weight and the force behind them (though their wielder may find a bit more... chopping than usual is necessary to bring him down), military crossbows and longbows at shorter ranges are also pretty effective, going by the same principal.
His newfound toughness also won't do much in the face of most elemental magics; all the physical strength in the world, after all, won't count for much if you're suddenly turned into bacon-bits by a gigantic fireball.
Personality
Coarse, sarcastic and incredibly strong-willed but mushy on the inside and loyal to a fault, Duncan is the product of his upbringing; a man with a big heart and and an immensely, ridiculously tough outer shell built by years of discipline and hard work while at the same time being surrounded by people who apparently had their talents handed down to them by some Santa-Claus-like deity holding a two-for-one special and passed through life with relative grace and ease.
Background
Once upon a time, there was a short, bald kid who got his ass kicked a lot. That was Duncan.
...Wait, you actually want details? Well, alright, but it's a bit of a dry read-
Growing up in Thunder Bay, Ontario, Duncan had a relatively normal childhood; a professor for a mom, an artists for a dad, an older sister and brother and a twin sister as well... all of whom were taller, smarter, prettier and generally much better at this whole 'Life' thing than he ever was.
Of course, being a short, scrawny kid named 'Duncan' earned him no particular favour from the other kids at school, especially when he woke up one morning just before his fourteenth birthday to find every bit of hair on his body save his eyebrows had fallen out.
At first, he turned to his parents for help- His mom, a busy academic and his dad, who'd never thrown a punch in his entire life said the same thing; "Talk to your teacher". His older sister wouldn't give him the time of day, his brother called him an "Ugly Thing" and didn't want to be seen near him, saying he'd jeopardize his modelling career. He didn't even bother asking his twin, because she was too busy being on tv.
Finally, he turned to his Granddad, a veteran of both Korea and the Second World War who earned his stripes as a commando in the legendary 'Devil's Brigade', who looked upon the boy's black eye, cut lip and bloodied nose before smiling in a way that no sane man ever would... and then agreed to train him. The Old-Fashioned Way.
Over the course of a summer, Duncan went from being a scrawny wimp to a well-trained fighting machine. And when he finally came home in the fall and almost immediately broke his brother's perfect little nose, he went right back and moved in with the old man, who found the whole affair absolutely hilarious and trained him even further.
The rest of Duncan's highschool years passed by relatively without incident. He made friends, had a few girlfriends here and there, the rest of his family up and moved to Toronto without a word to him and he signed up with the local reserve regiment at sixteen. After his highschool graduation, his grandfather's passing and few weeks spent sitting in the cottage of the woodland property he left him feeling uncomfortable and lonely without the only relative he liked there with him, he eventually volunteered to go overseas and just kept on hopping from deployment to deployment in Afghanistan until 2014, when he was approached about a job with the RCMP. Which, after some consideration and thinking, he took.
Of course, had he known he'd be a glorified secretary and nanny to politicians, dignataries and diplomats while wearing a stupid red jacket and uncomfortable striped pants, he'd've told them to take that offer and stick it right up their ass.
Nowadays, Duncan spends his time doing dumb bullshit for people he can't believe actually run his country and resisting the urge to beat the piss out of American tourists, all while chain-smoking, hating his life and yearning to go back to wearing green.
Likes -Hiking. -Canoeing. -Outdoors-innawoods-stuff in general, really. -Videogames. -Really cheesy Kung-Fu movies and/or Godzilla movies. -GIANT. FRIGGIN'. ROBOTS. In Anime. -Cider. -Adam Sandler's older stuff. -Dungeons and Dragons
Dislikes -His job. -Cheese. -Salmon. -Dense Harem Protagonists in Anime. -The people who usually pilot the GIANT. FRIGGIN'. ROBOTS. in those Anime he likes. -Adam Sandler's newer stuff. -People with way too many feelings. -Public Transit.
Alright, just got back from working the night shift, wherein I had a sudden epiphany, and made a few changes to the CS.
1) Did away with that line about Duncan's 'Upper Limit', Locking him at roughly where he is now throughout the game and toning down the Saitama vibes. 2) In it's place, added a few helpful tips on murdering him. 3) Added fight music. 4) Proceeded to wring my hands together and cackle maniacly, because I have plans...
From a geomancer like Vesta? Depending on how much she wants him dead, it'd probably pop his head like a grapefruit.
Especially considering from what I gather, Vesta doesn't believe such a thing as 'Overkill' exists, so said 'Rock' may very well be the side of friggin' a mountain.
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