Sorry for not waiting for @The Whacko! I had a burst of inspiration; that, and I wanted to prove I'm not bland and boring.
S'all good, sorry I've been so slow. Lots of RL aggro.
The Whacko Member
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S'all good, sorry I've been so slow. Lots of RL aggro.
The big man shrugged, his good eye fixed on the Calliope as he listened to her pick in jobs. Not bad choices for her first gigs, even with a four way split.
"Eh, the money's not too important. Sound like good work, be helpin' folk. I'm in." He didn't hesitate with his answer. Yet another of the newer folk arrived shortly after, though he couldn't recall this one's name, just that he had some talent with light and dark magic. He slipped a hand into his coat pocket, withdrawing a long, thin cigar and set it between his lips.
"Jus' lemme know when you're ready. Need the exercise."
"Eh, the money's not too important. Sound like good work, be helpin' folk. I'm in." He didn't hesitate with his answer. Yet another of the newer folk arrived shortly after, though he couldn't recall this one's name, just that he had some talent with light and dark magic. He slipped a hand into his coat pocket, withdrawing a long, thin cigar and set it between his lips.
"Jus' lemme know when you're ready. Need the exercise."
Every entrance made Zeb's head throb as the words came to his ears, and he groaned in pain. Alban at least recognized that he was hurting like a son of a bitch right then, and with the news of May returning soon, he felt some relief in knowing he'd have some treatment soon.
Then he noticed Barnaby and the new kid. Barnaby was a bit of an annoyance with that weird crush the kid had on him, but he knew Caliope to be a good kid. He hadn't said much to her yet, not surprising since most of the new people were always warry of him, being a necromancer and all. He looked over and offered the girl a polite nod and a faint smile.
"Heya, kid. Good to see ya making' progress. Lemme know if ya need any help. Ain't any other undead jobs on the board, so I'm free for a while." Then he turned to Barnaby, smirking faintly as he reached up to turn over his eyepatch. The puckered hole of his empty eye socket was about as pretty as could be expected. "Still find the eyepatch hot?"
Then he noticed Barnaby and the new kid. Barnaby was a bit of an annoyance with that weird crush the kid had on him, but he knew Caliope to be a good kid. He hadn't said much to her yet, not surprising since most of the new people were always warry of him, being a necromancer and all. He looked over and offered the girl a polite nod and a faint smile.
"Heya, kid. Good to see ya making' progress. Lemme know if ya need any help. Ain't any other undead jobs on the board, so I'm free for a while." Then he turned to Barnaby, smirking faintly as he reached up to turn over his eyepatch. The puckered hole of his empty eye socket was about as pretty as could be expected. "Still find the eyepatch hot?"
The Heartless were falling faster than Henry had expected, another soldier exploding as he brought Atom around into its head. The wastelander let out a whoop of triumph as he blasted one of the last few around him with a burst of the magic radiation. It looked like the othe others were doing just as well, kicking ass all around him, and the Princess seemed to be safe for now.
"Hell yeah! Score 1 for the good guys!" He gave another shout of triumph as he sent an Irration shot at the closed ofnthe flying Heartless around Ninty. "C'mon, ugly! Get yourself a taste'a me! I got a nice, big heart for ya!"
"Hell yeah! Score 1 for the good guys!" He gave another shout of triumph as he sent an Irration shot at the closed ofnthe flying Heartless around Ninty. "C'mon, ugly! Get yourself a taste'a me! I got a nice, big heart for ya!"
Another loud start to a morning in Silver Trident. Zebedee Nash groaned as he nursed a cup of whiskey-laced coffee, groaning and massaging his temples as best he could with his calloused fingers. He hated the morning after one of his exorcism jobs, especially when the others had had good luck on their jobs and they felt like celebrating. But he was the only one here qualified for getting rid of the ghoulies, and he had a moral obligation to see to the locals protected. A hangover was a small price to pay.
"I swear before my god and these witnesses that I will remain true to the right and just, and that my magic will be used to protect, never to enslave. That all my strength will always SHIELD the innocent. The society will be my blood, and its members my brothers. I pledge my knowledge, my resources and my life to uphold these things." He mumbled the words to himself. He'd always found that the oath of his old guild helped deal with headaches, and it was good to remind himself of the values he'd sworn to back then. It was a good thing this crew held themselves to about the same standards.
The loud, boistrous entrance of Ray and his....frigging cat thing, earned a deep groan from the big man as he clutched his forehead tightly. He liked the kid well enough, but he hoped to God that he wouldn't sit beside him right now. Unfortunately, he chose a seat only a down from the necromancer. With a sigh, Zeb raised one big hand in greeting, downing the rest of his coffee and cutting off a slab of meat from his steak.
"Mornin'....sounds like a lucky friggin' day for jus' about everyone but me." He grumbled in his gravely, manly baritone, not quite looking at the kid as he chewed his food. "Don't suppose one's the healers got back yet? Feel like I jus' got slugged upside the head."
"I swear before my god and these witnesses that I will remain true to the right and just, and that my magic will be used to protect, never to enslave. That all my strength will always SHIELD the innocent. The society will be my blood, and its members my brothers. I pledge my knowledge, my resources and my life to uphold these things." He mumbled the words to himself. He'd always found that the oath of his old guild helped deal with headaches, and it was good to remind himself of the values he'd sworn to back then. It was a good thing this crew held themselves to about the same standards.
The loud, boistrous entrance of Ray and his....frigging cat thing, earned a deep groan from the big man as he clutched his forehead tightly. He liked the kid well enough, but he hoped to God that he wouldn't sit beside him right now. Unfortunately, he chose a seat only a down from the necromancer. With a sigh, Zeb raised one big hand in greeting, downing the rest of his coffee and cutting off a slab of meat from his steak.
"Mornin'....sounds like a lucky friggin' day for jus' about everyone but me." He grumbled in his gravely, manly baritone, not quite looking at the kid as he chewed his food. "Don't suppose one's the healers got back yet? Feel like I jus' got slugged upside the head."
[@The Wacko] Hello fellow Elder Scrolls lover! I've never played Oblivion, but after googling Shivering Isles swords, I realized that my sword and the dawnfang/dustfang are basically the same thing. Whoops!
I can try and come up with something else, if that's going to be an issue. I guess I'm not as original as I thought! :)
Nothing wrong with it. Just love the idea of that sword. Also, on a minor note, is it weird that the person with argueably the least tragic or mysterious backstory is the frigging necromancer?
I HAVE FINALLY FINISHED IT! That took so much longer than I thought it would. @Jones Sparrow Let me know what edits you'd like me to make. I was trying to come up with an interesting magic, but if you don't like it I can always change it to where she only uses the sword. Just let me know!
Yes, I named her sword after a town in Skyrim. :P Also, do we live in dorms in the guild hall, or do we have our own separate places in the city?
Nice. Also loved the reference to my favorite sword from Shivering Isles.
Name: Zebedee Nash
AKA: The Gravefinder, Corpsewaker, That Big Bald Dude, Dude, His Dudeness, Duder, El Duderino (If you aren't into the whole brevity thing).
Age: 36
Appearance: A tall, light-skinned, swarthy bald man with a perminant scowl, one beady eye (His right eye was lost on the job), colliflowered ears and a broad nose that's been broken a few times. Most tend to mistake him for a local thug rather than a guild wizard. His style of dress doesn't do much to help that assumtion either, favoring a cheap gray duster, brown t-shirt, fingerless gloves, tan cargo pants and heavy work boots, the cherry on top being the black eyepatch covering his empty right eye socket.
Emblem location/color: Black, on the right side of his neck.
Years in Guild: 4
Magic Type: Caster, some small elements of holding magic.
Magic Style: Necromancy
Spells:
Reanimate Corpse: Self-explainitory. Works with both 'fresh' (zombies) and 'decayed' (skeletons) corpses.
Summon Ghost: Another self-explainitory one. Summons a vengeful spirit from beyond the grave, usualy possessing some form of ice or dark magic.
Summon Wraith: Similar to ghosts, but semi-corporeal, with the added bonus of being able to carry spectral blades that cut just as well as any physical weapon, and leave the cold touch of the dead behind it.
Summon Banshee: His most powerful undead at this time, and also the most draining. Banshee screams won't actually kill you, but they'll hurt your hearing like a sonuvabitch. Their claws absolutely will kill you though, and they fly fast.
Commune: Simply, the summoning of a calmer spirit (Or in some cases reanimating a corpse and putting some extra magic into it to restore some brain function and repair vocal cords) to converse with it, useful in murder investigations or when the only people that know a secret are dead.
Bio: There isn't much to be said about this man. Born and raised in the coastal town of Cimmura, Zeb is the oldest of five brothers, son to a dockworker and a seemstress. His talent for magic became evident early in life, and he spent most of his days in the local shops looking through any tome he could get his hands on. His first real use of magic was when reanimating his youngest brother's puppy, an exertion that nearly killed the young man, but that saved the little animal's life and caught the attention of the the local wizards. He was placed in a support group for the very small community of wizards in the city, and through it found his first and most influential guild, the SRBA (Society for Responsible use of the Black Arts) He spent most of the next decade with them, though he was forced to seek out a new guild when they were shut down by a storm of lawsuits after they were forced to reanimate a town's graveyard to defend the locals from a bandit gang. Since then he's moved on to Silver Trident, and so far it is a choice he hasn't come to regret.
Personality: Despite the dark reputation of his magic, Zeb is actually a pretty cool dude. Gruff but likeable, he's usualy willing to give his fellow man a fair shake and will help out whenever he can. He's a bit nervous about using his abillities in front of new people, but once one has earned his trust they will find few better friends. Despite his fundementally good nature, he does have his moral lines, and once someone has crossed them, their life means nothing to him.
Relationship?: Mother,father, three younger brothers.
Equipment: Flail (For when magic isn't enough to get the job done), canteen, a small time containing binding rituals for spirits.
Other: N/A
AKA: The Gravefinder, Corpsewaker, That Big Bald Dude, Dude, His Dudeness, Duder, El Duderino (If you aren't into the whole brevity thing).
Age: 36
Appearance: A tall, light-skinned, swarthy bald man with a perminant scowl, one beady eye (His right eye was lost on the job), colliflowered ears and a broad nose that's been broken a few times. Most tend to mistake him for a local thug rather than a guild wizard. His style of dress doesn't do much to help that assumtion either, favoring a cheap gray duster, brown t-shirt, fingerless gloves, tan cargo pants and heavy work boots, the cherry on top being the black eyepatch covering his empty right eye socket.
Emblem location/color: Black, on the right side of his neck.
Years in Guild: 4
Magic Type: Caster, some small elements of holding magic.
Magic Style: Necromancy
Spells:
Reanimate Corpse: Self-explainitory. Works with both 'fresh' (zombies) and 'decayed' (skeletons) corpses.
Summon Ghost: Another self-explainitory one. Summons a vengeful spirit from beyond the grave, usualy possessing some form of ice or dark magic.
Summon Wraith: Similar to ghosts, but semi-corporeal, with the added bonus of being able to carry spectral blades that cut just as well as any physical weapon, and leave the cold touch of the dead behind it.
Summon Banshee: His most powerful undead at this time, and also the most draining. Banshee screams won't actually kill you, but they'll hurt your hearing like a sonuvabitch. Their claws absolutely will kill you though, and they fly fast.
Commune: Simply, the summoning of a calmer spirit (Or in some cases reanimating a corpse and putting some extra magic into it to restore some brain function and repair vocal cords) to converse with it, useful in murder investigations or when the only people that know a secret are dead.
Bio: There isn't much to be said about this man. Born and raised in the coastal town of Cimmura, Zeb is the oldest of five brothers, son to a dockworker and a seemstress. His talent for magic became evident early in life, and he spent most of his days in the local shops looking through any tome he could get his hands on. His first real use of magic was when reanimating his youngest brother's puppy, an exertion that nearly killed the young man, but that saved the little animal's life and caught the attention of the the local wizards. He was placed in a support group for the very small community of wizards in the city, and through it found his first and most influential guild, the SRBA (Society for Responsible use of the Black Arts) He spent most of the next decade with them, though he was forced to seek out a new guild when they were shut down by a storm of lawsuits after they were forced to reanimate a town's graveyard to defend the locals from a bandit gang. Since then he's moved on to Silver Trident, and so far it is a choice he hasn't come to regret.
Personality: Despite the dark reputation of his magic, Zeb is actually a pretty cool dude. Gruff but likeable, he's usualy willing to give his fellow man a fair shake and will help out whenever he can. He's a bit nervous about using his abillities in front of new people, but once one has earned his trust they will find few better friends. Despite his fundementally good nature, he does have his moral lines, and once someone has crossed them, their life means nothing to him.
Relationship?: Mother,father, three younger brothers.
Equipment: Flail (For when magic isn't enough to get the job done), canteen, a small time containing binding rituals for spirits.
Other: N/A
Name: Zebedee Nash
AKA: The Gravefinder, Corpsewaker, That Big Bald Dude, Dude, His Dudeness, Duder, El Duderino (If you aren't into the whole brevity thing).
Age: 36
Appearance: A tall, light-skinned, swarthy bald man with a perminant scowl, one beady eye (His right eye was lost on the job), colliflowered ears and a broad nose that's been broken a few times. Most tend to mistake him for a local thug rather than a guild wizard. His style of dress doesn't do much to help that assumtion either, favoring a cheap gray duster, brown t-shirt, fingerless gloves, tan cargo pants and heavy work boots, the cherry on top being the black eyepatch covering his empty right eye socket.
Emblem location/color: Black, on the right side of his neck.
Years in Guild: 4
Magic Type: Caster, some small elements of holding magic.
Magic Style: Necromancy
Spells:
Reanimate Corpse: Self-explainitory. Works with both 'fresh' (zombies) and 'decayed' (skeletons) corpses.
Summon Ghost: Another self-explainitory one. Summons a vengeful spirit from beyond the grave, usualy possessing some form of ice or dark magic.
Summon Wraith: Similar to ghosts, but semi-corporeal, with the added bonus of being able to carry spectral blades that cut just as well as any physical weapon, and leave the cold touch of the dead behind it.
Summon Banshee: His most powerful undead at this time, and also the most draining. Banshee screams won't actually kill you, but they'll hurt your hearing like a sonuvabitch. Their claws absolutely will kill you though, and they fly fast.
Commune: Simply, the summoning of a calmer spirit (Or in some cases reanimating a corpse and putting some extra magic into it to restore some brain function and repair vocal cords) to converse with it, useful in murder investigations or when the only people that know a secret are dead.
Bio: There isn't much to be said about this man. Born and raised in the coastal town of Cimmura, Zeb is the oldest of five brothers, son to a dockworker and a seemstress. His talent for magic became evident early in life, and he spent most of his days in the local shops looking through any tome he could get his hands on. His first real use of magic was when reanimating his youngest brother's puppy, an exertion that nearly killed the young man, but that saved the little animal's life and caught the attention of the the local wizards. He was placed in a support group for the very small community of wizards in the city, and through it found his first and most influential guild, the SRBA (Society for Responsible use of the Black Arts) He spent most of the next decade with them, though he was forced to seek out a new guild when they were shut down by a storm of lawsuits after they were forced to reanimate a town's graveyard to defend the locals from a bandit gang. Since then he's moved on to Silver Trident, and so far it is a choice he hasn't come to regret.
Personality: Despite the dark reputation of his magic, Zeb is actually a pretty cool dude. Gruff but likeable, he's usualy willing to give his fellow man a fair shake and will help out whenever he can. He's a bit nervous about using his abillities in front of new people, but once one has earned his trust they will find few better friends. Despite his fundementally good nature, he does have his moral lines, and once someone has crossed them, their life means nothing to him.
Relationship?: Mother,father, three younger brothers.
Equipment: Flail (For when magic isn't enough to get the job done), canteen, a small time containing binding rituals for spirits.
Other: N/A
AKA: The Gravefinder, Corpsewaker, That Big Bald Dude, Dude, His Dudeness, Duder, El Duderino (If you aren't into the whole brevity thing).
Age: 36
Appearance: A tall, light-skinned, swarthy bald man with a perminant scowl, one beady eye (His right eye was lost on the job), colliflowered ears and a broad nose that's been broken a few times. Most tend to mistake him for a local thug rather than a guild wizard. His style of dress doesn't do much to help that assumtion either, favoring a cheap gray duster, brown t-shirt, fingerless gloves, tan cargo pants and heavy work boots, the cherry on top being the black eyepatch covering his empty right eye socket.
Emblem location/color: Black, on the right side of his neck.
Years in Guild: 4
Magic Type: Caster, some small elements of holding magic.
Magic Style: Necromancy
Spells:
Reanimate Corpse: Self-explainitory. Works with both 'fresh' (zombies) and 'decayed' (skeletons) corpses.
Summon Ghost: Another self-explainitory one. Summons a vengeful spirit from beyond the grave, usualy possessing some form of ice or dark magic.
Summon Wraith: Similar to ghosts, but semi-corporeal, with the added bonus of being able to carry spectral blades that cut just as well as any physical weapon, and leave the cold touch of the dead behind it.
Summon Banshee: His most powerful undead at this time, and also the most draining. Banshee screams won't actually kill you, but they'll hurt your hearing like a sonuvabitch. Their claws absolutely will kill you though, and they fly fast.
Commune: Simply, the summoning of a calmer spirit (Or in some cases reanimating a corpse and putting some extra magic into it to restore some brain function and repair vocal cords) to converse with it, useful in murder investigations or when the only people that know a secret are dead.
Bio: There isn't much to be said about this man. Born and raised in the coastal town of Cimmura, Zeb is the oldest of five brothers, son to a dockworker and a seemstress. His talent for magic became evident early in life, and he spent most of his days in the local shops looking through any tome he could get his hands on. His first real use of magic was when reanimating his youngest brother's puppy, an exertion that nearly killed the young man, but that saved the little animal's life and caught the attention of the the local wizards. He was placed in a support group for the very small community of wizards in the city, and through it found his first and most influential guild, the SRBA (Society for Responsible use of the Black Arts) He spent most of the next decade with them, though he was forced to seek out a new guild when they were shut down by a storm of lawsuits after they were forced to reanimate a town's graveyard to defend the locals from a bandit gang. Since then he's moved on to Silver Trident, and so far it is a choice he hasn't come to regret.
Personality: Despite the dark reputation of his magic, Zeb is actually a pretty cool dude. Gruff but likeable, he's usualy willing to give his fellow man a fair shake and will help out whenever he can. He's a bit nervous about using his abillities in front of new people, but once one has earned his trust they will find few better friends. Despite his fundementally good nature, he does have his moral lines, and once someone has crossed them, their life means nothing to him.
Relationship?: Mother,father, three younger brothers.
Equipment: Flail (For when magic isn't enough to get the job done), canteen, a small time containing binding rituals for spirits.
Other: N/A
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