SirBeowulf
Member
What a load of Donk.
STATUS: It might be three inches, but it smells like a foot. 10 yrs ago
- Last Seen: 2 yrs ago
- Joined: 11 yrs ago
- Posts: 1012 (0.25 / day)
- VMs: 1
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Username history
- SirBeowulf 11 yrs ago
Status
Recent Statuses
10 yrs ago
Current
It might be three inches, but it smells like a foot.
Bio
Most Recent Posts
**Real Name:**
Wes Shanks.
**Character Name:**
Also Wes Shanks. He kept his name. It's kind of stupid to go around being called names like WYVERN or ABDULIUS THE THIRD.
**Age:**
Thirty-two. Yeah, a real old guy. Not like all you youngsters playing yer god dern virdyergerms.
**Gender:**
Pretty sure he's a guy, but there's always a small chance.
**Appearance:**
At first glance, you might think you're standing in front of a bear. Standing at roughly six feet five, Wes is an ox of a guy. Years of construction work and going to the gym on a daily basis have honed his body into the pile of muscle that it is. He really does stand out of place among most Japanese people. Of course, also being bald and having rough sideburns usually are enough to do that in the first place.
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**Beta Tester:**
Surprisingly, yes. A construction worker can get fairly addicted to a game like this.
**Personality:**
He's an asshole. Always has been, always will be. At least he's a decently nice asshole. He won't just go and steal your lunch money, he'll find someway to mess with you. He's the kind of asshole who's enough of an asshole to infuriate some people, but not enough that you'll actually do anything about it. Of course, that doesn't mean he's just an asshole. Wes is generally a brawling drunk, preferring to stick to taverns and the front line.
Nothing is better than bashing monsters and downing fake booze. Well, at least it tastes generally good. Its the most life you can get out of a video game, so he sticks to it.
**Background:**
Being as it is Japan had been rapidly expanding in recent years, it would have been stupid not to make the move over and immigrate. Construction was being hauled over from America to Japan faster than you can say 'LAY-OFFS' and Wes, being the rather smart guy he is, made the trip. It wasn't too hard to get used to the strange and foreign culture that is Japan.
It really wasn't too different, at least in terms of building homes and what not. The people were relatively nicer, and it was certainly a breath of fresh air compared to America. Of course, getting with the times, a few coworkers decided to hook him up with a set of VR equipment and a copy of the Beta for SOA. Surprisingly, Wes was hooked within his first few hours. He experimented mostly with different characters, different play styles, but none of them were really all too great.
The only one that sparked his interest was being a berserker. Going in guns blazing, wearing little armor and wielding swords, axes, and hammers. Of course, being hooked to the game turned out to be a rather bad thing as soon as he purchased himself a bad copy. It was the cheaper option, and he didn't make much in the first place. It really turned out to be a horrible mistake as he was soon stuck.
**Three Main Skills:**
- Ultra Greatswords - The ability to wield giant ass swords. Pretty much key in his ability to wield the Dragonslayer.
- Light Armor - Pretty much what it says. Wes was never a fan of the heavy armor that most guild leaders wear. It just doesn't fit his style.
- Incredible Endurance - The ability to keep fighting, even after you've taken huge hits.
**Special Skill:**
Wes doesn't have a special skill. Being able to wield his weapon is in itself a special ability.
**Other Skills:**
Wes really doesn't have any skills other than fighting and drinking. He spent more time increasing his strength than he did pursuing crafting or cooking. Fishing is for losers anyways.
**Current Weapon:**
[The Dragonslayer.](http://img2.wikia.nocookie.net/__cb20111209210853/berserk/images/thumb/5/5c/Dragonslayer_Coloured.jpg/498px-Dragonslayer_Coloured.jpg) A mass of iron that appears to be so large and heavy it would be unable to be used by a human. Of course, that's what the devs want to you think. Wes found the weapon for extremely cheap while browsing the markets. Nobody would buy the weapon since the stat requirements were so damn high for it. It seems a sword taller than yourself might be a bit hard to use. Of course, if you're Wes, no strength requirement is too high. It took a very long time, but finally Wes was able to wield the weapon.
As expected, the weapon is a bit slow. Of course, it easily makes up for this fact by the massive damage it can inflict on an enemy, even without any special enchantments or upgrades. Getting hit by it is like getting hit by a truck. (If you're wondering how it might be used, just search on youtube for Dark Souls 2 Ultra Greatsword Moveset and watch for the second one. )
**Current Armor:**
Pfft. Armor is for- well, armor is kind of useful. Wes doesn't really have much, its more or less a metal chest plate with leather for all of the rest. He's already slowed down enough as it is.
**Guild Status:**
As one might expect of Wes, he doesn't belong to any particular guild. Rather, he extends his services to anyone looking to hire him. Sort of a mercenary, if you will.
**Play Style:**
Pure berserker. Charge in head first, deal with the consequences later. Serves as a bit of tank, as most enemies will be focused on him instead of anyone else.
Wes enjoys the bounty of Kyle's milkshake. It tastes rather delicious.
(Well, I hope me and my gigantic sword don't pose too much breakage of the rules, Kyle.)
I hope I'm not **too late** to the party. I'd seen Kyle's advertisement over on the rp we're both in, Hailstorm, but I'd really only just checked it out today. Of course, me and my indecisiveness is a curse and it took me a while to decide whether or not to join. I only really have scraps of an idea, and said idea is one of my recurring characters, though.
Also, I don't wanna seem like a bother, but doesn't Aiyva seem kind of... suspicious? Their only two posts are a copy of the character sheet and asking for a reserve spot. Not that I'm trying to kick them out or anything, but it just seems kind of strange to see.
THE NEW GUILD HATH ARRIVED.
THE WORLD IS MADE ANEW. ALL SHALL FEEL MAHZ DIVINE INTERVENTION.
Shit. We gotta transfer our characters over to the CS section of the thread. CURSES. Oh, and all of our pictures that go above our names are gone. ;__;
Nah, its not required unless a lot of people wanna get a start on their characters easily.
Speaking of, how does an Illuminated nobleman fencer sound?
Speaking of, how does an Illuminated nobleman fencer sound?
'deep cleaning'
...how lewd, Zeph.
...how lewd, Zeph.
I guess that makes me casul animu scumm.
A DISGRACE TO THE WEABOO NAME.
A DISGRACE TO THE WEABOO NAME.
Ooor you could skip all the explaining and say 'fuck dat, this is fantasy, DEAL WITH IT.'
I'd like to say I'm fairly interested, its certainly an original concept if anything. I don't think anyone has asked this though. What technology level is there in Moriana? You said there's alchemy and basic explosives, but what about other stuff?
I'd like to say I'm fairly interested, its certainly an original concept if anything. I don't think anyone has asked this though. What technology level is there in Moriana? You said there's alchemy and basic explosives, but what about other stuff?
Oh, and here's our post. THE ADVENTURES OF DAVE, JONES, AND CATHERINE CONTINUE. THIS TIME WITH MORE LEMON.
also dem feels
also dem feels
"So, are they any good?" asked Jones as he watched the two devour his supply of fresh oranges. "They should be... cost me a lot..." he groaned, wishing he hadn't met them at all. They were going to run him out of business at this rate. The trio had gathered in a small office room, a subsection of the place his caravan was trading a majority of their goods to. DERB offices to be more specific.
Dave had sat himself directly in the center of a couch in the room and was slowly nibbling at his orange as Catherine sat off in a corner on an office chair, cautiously eyeing Dave over the orange that was rapidly being eaten. "I dunno," said Dave, "this one had a bruise on it."
"Ish delishush," Catherine mumbled around her orange, glaring at Dave who didn't seem to notice.
"Hold on a second. When exactly did I say he could have some? He isn't even joining, he just showed up." Jones turned back to said man. "And shutup about the bruise, be happy you even got some."
"Wait, I thought you gave him one? I have both of mine," she said, holding up the other one she hadn't started eating yet but was about to.
Dave just grinned. "Damn, guess I got caught. This is why you should hire more security!" Dave said, tossing his orange up in the air and catching it deftly with one hand. Jones groaned yet again. "Damn thief." he said, but left it at that. He wasn't about to take off a hand like most settlements did.
Catherine massaged her temples, trying to ward off a headache that was appearing out of confusion towards Dave's attitude and morals. "Oh for fuck's... Dave, can I talk to you in private for a bit?"
"Depends. Are we going to make out?"
Catherine opened her mouth to deliver a witty retort as had been the usual for their interactions, but was interrupted as man walked through the open door. He was tall, a few inches more than Jones even. He also wore a suit that identified him as a fancy pants DERB official. The glasses and reptilian look settled the deal. He appeared to have heard the comment before, but didn't say a word about it other than glaring at Dave. Catherine flipped Dave the bird behind the DERB official's back, to which Dave grinned smarmily.
"Jones Abrams... I'm afraid we haven't met before," he said, extending a hand towards said person. Jones stood up and shook it with a bit of reluctance before sitting back down at the desk.
"Aye, we haven't. But I know you, Mister Wilkes. One of the major heads in distribution, from what I've heard. You're here to buy the food, right?" Mr. Wilkes nodded, standing still at the front of the room and running his eyes over everyone.
"I was expecting this to be a chat between two people, not you and your... associates?"
"Oh, just ignore them. Just two people I picked up off the street, and they shouldn't barge in on this conversation. Too much," he said with a look at Catherine.
The tall man took a seat in front of the desk wearily. "Right, onto business then." He took out a small sheet of paper, looking it over. "Two hundred pounds of food, twenty pounds of produce, ten gallons of alcohol, and another amalgation of various items." Wilkes narrowed his eyes at Jones before sliding another sheet of paper forwards at Jones. "This price is what my supervisors say will work."
Jones grabbed the paper, taking a good look at it, a frown showing up immediately on his face. "Sir, this price is unacceptable. It doesn't even cover eighty percent of the product's cost. Let alone the danger of transporting it across the wastes."
Another narrowing of the tall man's eyes. "The amount stated is what you are going to get, Mister Abrams. I'm afraid the DERB doesn't haggle."
"Fuck the DERB then," Catherine said. "Bunch of selfish government assholes that couldn't care less about the people that look over if there isn't a profit in it for them anyway. We'd be better off selling to the Lost!"
"Cath!" Jones said rather abrupbtly. "Apologies, Mister Wilkes. I'm afraid my colleagues don't understand the intricate webs that are business. But, I'm afraid I can't accept this price. We lost someone this trip, and I can't afford to make it up if I can't get a profi-"
"This isn't business!" Catherine shouted over Jones. He winced, watching Wilkes calmly and coolly take the verbal abuse without even a word. "This is bullying! You fucking government assholes apparently aren't happy stealing from the poor people, aren't you? Now you gotta steal from the caravan runners too!"
Wilkes turned around, staring at Catherine. He closed his eyes for a moment before laughing. "Another dirty scavenger, voicing their opinion without even trying to make any sense. The DERB is an important factor to the reconstruction of society, and you anarchists can't even accept the fact that this world is no longer the hell that it used to be."
"Yeah, only because everyone is too fucking poor to afford air to breathe, nevertheless rebel or anything," Catherine continued. "We're not buying at that price, so take your fucking self-righteousness and shove it up your ass."
Wilkes stared for a few more seconds, his face only having a slight hint of anger to it. "Then you can find a different buyer, the DERB will refuse to do business with anarchist rats." Jones opened his mouth to reply as the man stood up to leave,but was cut short by Dave.
"Ya know... Those Avant Garde people were offering a damn good deal on supplies up at Heartwood when I was last there. Much more than these DERB guys," he said, directing his statement at Jones, pointedly ignoring the official.
The tall man stopped in his tracks, letting out a groan. "I might be able to change the deal, a bit. Not that it has anything to do with Avant Garde, of course. Only out of the kindness of my heart." The words had a tinge of sickness to them, as if Wilkes had trouble saying them.
He walked back up to the desk. "We can change it to... about seven hundred and fifty. How does that sound?" Jones' eyes lit up as he grinned. "Of course, we accept. I thank you humbly for the kind business you offer us."
Wilkes sighed, "Right, right. I'll have people unload the supplies and give you your money. I will take my leave... and make sure to keep your pets outside next time." Catherine stuck her tongue out at the man as he left in a brazen display of her immense maturity.
Jones laid his head on the desk as the man left the room, groaning. "Like I said, either the greatest haggler known to man, or the one with the least amount of sanity. That guy."
"'That guy' is still right here, you know," Dave replied indignantly.
"Yes, and you're a good liar as well. You know as well as I do there aren't any Avant Garde in Heartwood," Catherine replied.
Dave just shrugged. "So, how 'bout that make-out sessio- Ow!" He replied, interrupted by a slap across the face. "Sensitive, much?" he added, rubbing his cheek.
"Why are you following me around? And answer without the smarm," said Catherine.
Dave just shrugged. "Curiousity?"
Catherine just sighed with disgust. "Don't just use my previous answers back at me. How come you're also so damn calm and smarmy about everything as well?"
Again, Dave just shrugged. "I dunno."
Jones held up his two hands like little puppets. He then mashed their faces together, making smooching sounds.
Both Catherine and Dave looked at Jones; Catherine with a glare, and Dave with amusement. "Yeah, that's it," Dave said. "I must be smitten with the chains of love!"
Catherine just replied, "What."
Jones continued with his little play, making the puppets engage in some rather unmentionable acts of love. He even added the sounds and everything.
Catherine turned around and hit her head against the wall. "I hate you both."
"You seem to hate a lot of things," Dave added. "I'm half tempted to stick around just to tease you. Anyway, I have my own places to go," Dave said. "I'll be seeing you around."
"Thank God, you're finally leaving," Catherine replied.
"You're very nice to the person that gave you a raise and saved your employer," Dave said with a wink, before walking out of the office.
"He's right, you know," Jones said, grinning with amusement. "Well, as much as I like the office, I think its also time for us to go. I'd like to have the caravan moving out before noon, so I'd prefer if we got on the road. I'd also like to get out of this damn DERB zone. Buncha no-good beaurocratic government asshats," he said, with finality.
"Exactly!" replied Catherine.
Dave had sat himself directly in the center of a couch in the room and was slowly nibbling at his orange as Catherine sat off in a corner on an office chair, cautiously eyeing Dave over the orange that was rapidly being eaten. "I dunno," said Dave, "this one had a bruise on it."
"Ish delishush," Catherine mumbled around her orange, glaring at Dave who didn't seem to notice.
"Hold on a second. When exactly did I say he could have some? He isn't even joining, he just showed up." Jones turned back to said man. "And shutup about the bruise, be happy you even got some."
"Wait, I thought you gave him one? I have both of mine," she said, holding up the other one she hadn't started eating yet but was about to.
Dave just grinned. "Damn, guess I got caught. This is why you should hire more security!" Dave said, tossing his orange up in the air and catching it deftly with one hand. Jones groaned yet again. "Damn thief." he said, but left it at that. He wasn't about to take off a hand like most settlements did.
Catherine massaged her temples, trying to ward off a headache that was appearing out of confusion towards Dave's attitude and morals. "Oh for fuck's... Dave, can I talk to you in private for a bit?"
"Depends. Are we going to make out?"
Catherine opened her mouth to deliver a witty retort as had been the usual for their interactions, but was interrupted as man walked through the open door. He was tall, a few inches more than Jones even. He also wore a suit that identified him as a fancy pants DERB official. The glasses and reptilian look settled the deal. He appeared to have heard the comment before, but didn't say a word about it other than glaring at Dave. Catherine flipped Dave the bird behind the DERB official's back, to which Dave grinned smarmily.
"Jones Abrams... I'm afraid we haven't met before," he said, extending a hand towards said person. Jones stood up and shook it with a bit of reluctance before sitting back down at the desk.
"Aye, we haven't. But I know you, Mister Wilkes. One of the major heads in distribution, from what I've heard. You're here to buy the food, right?" Mr. Wilkes nodded, standing still at the front of the room and running his eyes over everyone.
"I was expecting this to be a chat between two people, not you and your... associates?"
"Oh, just ignore them. Just two people I picked up off the street, and they shouldn't barge in on this conversation. Too much," he said with a look at Catherine.
The tall man took a seat in front of the desk wearily. "Right, onto business then." He took out a small sheet of paper, looking it over. "Two hundred pounds of food, twenty pounds of produce, ten gallons of alcohol, and another amalgation of various items." Wilkes narrowed his eyes at Jones before sliding another sheet of paper forwards at Jones. "This price is what my supervisors say will work."
Jones grabbed the paper, taking a good look at it, a frown showing up immediately on his face. "Sir, this price is unacceptable. It doesn't even cover eighty percent of the product's cost. Let alone the danger of transporting it across the wastes."
Another narrowing of the tall man's eyes. "The amount stated is what you are going to get, Mister Abrams. I'm afraid the DERB doesn't haggle."
"Fuck the DERB then," Catherine said. "Bunch of selfish government assholes that couldn't care less about the people that look over if there isn't a profit in it for them anyway. We'd be better off selling to the Lost!"
"Cath!" Jones said rather abrupbtly. "Apologies, Mister Wilkes. I'm afraid my colleagues don't understand the intricate webs that are business. But, I'm afraid I can't accept this price. We lost someone this trip, and I can't afford to make it up if I can't get a profi-"
"This isn't business!" Catherine shouted over Jones. He winced, watching Wilkes calmly and coolly take the verbal abuse without even a word. "This is bullying! You fucking government assholes apparently aren't happy stealing from the poor people, aren't you? Now you gotta steal from the caravan runners too!"
Wilkes turned around, staring at Catherine. He closed his eyes for a moment before laughing. "Another dirty scavenger, voicing their opinion without even trying to make any sense. The DERB is an important factor to the reconstruction of society, and you anarchists can't even accept the fact that this world is no longer the hell that it used to be."
"Yeah, only because everyone is too fucking poor to afford air to breathe, nevertheless rebel or anything," Catherine continued. "We're not buying at that price, so take your fucking self-righteousness and shove it up your ass."
Wilkes stared for a few more seconds, his face only having a slight hint of anger to it. "Then you can find a different buyer, the DERB will refuse to do business with anarchist rats." Jones opened his mouth to reply as the man stood up to leave,but was cut short by Dave.
"Ya know... Those Avant Garde people were offering a damn good deal on supplies up at Heartwood when I was last there. Much more than these DERB guys," he said, directing his statement at Jones, pointedly ignoring the official.
The tall man stopped in his tracks, letting out a groan. "I might be able to change the deal, a bit. Not that it has anything to do with Avant Garde, of course. Only out of the kindness of my heart." The words had a tinge of sickness to them, as if Wilkes had trouble saying them.
He walked back up to the desk. "We can change it to... about seven hundred and fifty. How does that sound?" Jones' eyes lit up as he grinned. "Of course, we accept. I thank you humbly for the kind business you offer us."
Wilkes sighed, "Right, right. I'll have people unload the supplies and give you your money. I will take my leave... and make sure to keep your pets outside next time." Catherine stuck her tongue out at the man as he left in a brazen display of her immense maturity.
Jones laid his head on the desk as the man left the room, groaning. "Like I said, either the greatest haggler known to man, or the one with the least amount of sanity. That guy."
"'That guy' is still right here, you know," Dave replied indignantly.
"Yes, and you're a good liar as well. You know as well as I do there aren't any Avant Garde in Heartwood," Catherine replied.
Dave just shrugged. "So, how 'bout that make-out sessio- Ow!" He replied, interrupted by a slap across the face. "Sensitive, much?" he added, rubbing his cheek.
"Why are you following me around? And answer without the smarm," said Catherine.
Dave just shrugged. "Curiousity?"
Catherine just sighed with disgust. "Don't just use my previous answers back at me. How come you're also so damn calm and smarmy about everything as well?"
Again, Dave just shrugged. "I dunno."
Jones held up his two hands like little puppets. He then mashed their faces together, making smooching sounds.
Both Catherine and Dave looked at Jones; Catherine with a glare, and Dave with amusement. "Yeah, that's it," Dave said. "I must be smitten with the chains of love!"
Catherine just replied, "What."
Jones continued with his little play, making the puppets engage in some rather unmentionable acts of love. He even added the sounds and everything.
Catherine turned around and hit her head against the wall. "I hate you both."
"You seem to hate a lot of things," Dave added. "I'm half tempted to stick around just to tease you. Anyway, I have my own places to go," Dave said. "I'll be seeing you around."
"Thank God, you're finally leaving," Catherine replied.
"You're very nice to the person that gave you a raise and saved your employer," Dave said with a wink, before walking out of the office.
"He's right, you know," Jones said, grinning with amusement. "Well, as much as I like the office, I think its also time for us to go. I'd like to have the caravan moving out before noon, so I'd prefer if we got on the road. I'd also like to get out of this damn DERB zone. Buncha no-good beaurocratic government asshats," he said, with finality.
"Exactly!" replied Catherine.
Swerd Ert was okay I guess. Wasn't great, nor was it as bad as Zeph might say. Its one of those anime you can just watch without having to think any at all. Like potato chips. You can just keep watching it and feel slightly bad while you do.
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