ThinkingInk

Life In The Vault

I'm ready to go.

Life In The Vault

Wouldn't it be entirely possible to start anyway? we already have a group large enough to continue on despite the lack of the person we all thought would initiate this.

The Accomplished

My apologies for my apparent tardiness! I was working around classes and work to put my character together. I hope that isn't as issue! i've been excited for this since the interest check.

The Accomplished

The Stranger

Pedron Mallus Manica

Human Bardic Demonspeaker


Standing at roughly 6' with messy dark brown hair and eyes of matching color, Pedron is a smiling face swaying with an eccentric shamble absent of the music it appears to follow. His voice is deep and hoarse, giving the pretty words he enjoys using a darkly ironic quality. As always, he is pleased to meet you. However, who knows if this is the first time.

Actual Age: Physically 24 years old, housing a 99 year old soul with all of its experience and memories.
Race: Human (currently)
Gender: Male

Rise to Power:
Pedron (the name he currently goes by) was born about a century ago as a street urchin in the darker parts of a withering kingdom far west. He was the son of a laborer and a bar maiden who both met an untimely end at the tip of a corrupted noble's sword. As a young orphan boy, his only chance for survival in the alleys and gutters of the ghetto was resorting to thievery. One day, he was caught rummaging through the chests and shelves of an old mage rumored to be a madman in the town. The madman became mentor and taught Pedron the value of the items he was sifting through for coin.
Unfortunately, the old mage was a cruel and insufferable abuser. He found little potential in Pedron and cast him out of his home. It seemed the boy, a few years into his teens now, had no magical aptitude in the slightest. Sleight of hand, however, never ceased to be his best practice. He made a small reputation among the streets as a boy with "mute feet and a loud mouth" and took to the gangs of the boondocks where he roamed. Instead of being in the hospitality of an old fool, he found the care of his comrades. It was a group of men and women that had been helping the poor souls of the poor city. They embraced his strong voice and learned him the hooligans' trades. Gambling, music-playing, singing, juggling, tumbling, and persuasion became other languages that he could speak fluently. Though even through the time he spent among the rogues and ruffians, he still found himself reading and searching for more knowledge on what he was told was attainable.
His first day of adulthood (for the first time, anyway), Pedron returned to his guild to find it in ruin. The tyrant of a ruler had found and ordered the slaughter of his few-year family. Nothing was left and it seemed nothing could be done - until a dark idea struck him. Pedron raced through the familiar streets of his dismal childhood and found the home of the mage. The turning-ancient man wasn't far from the livelihood of the others he used to look up to. He laughed and spit-dry at Pedron's plan, declaring he still had no chance at magic.
Unphased, or just out of other options (it's all hazy to him now), Pedron racked his mind for the knowledge necessary. He began pulling volumes off of dusty shelves that he had read over and over years ago. The magician's eyes grew wide at his ex-apprentice (he remembers that quite clearly) as he watched the makings of a ritual being erected; there was nothing those brittle bones could do to stop the man who stood in place of the boy. Pedron beckoned into the abysmal plane of existence without any magical prowess by using the evil mage's life and the hunger of the demons he sought.
The house of the noble that killed his parents fell without a single stone taken out of place. Slowly, through sorcery and subterfuge, Pedron took a place in his victim's court and ascended like the rise of an axe before it chops wood. Then he was seen (by few, who do not know his name or face today) with the ruler of whom he told the name of his dead guild, before righting his kingdom through blood. Afterwards, he vanished like the magician that helped him get there.
Pedron continued to consort with demons and darker entities, bargaining with the blood and life of himself or others along the way. His company became these abyssal creatures. He learned to speak dark, secret tongues from tieflings and built relationships with relics of grim gods. In tainted rituals and rites, he has taken on new forms and stolen physical vessels which have granted him a much longer life. While not famous in the most obvious ways, Pedron's renown lives through rumor. Now he lives humbly, having no greatness associated with his new name and face.

Combat Skills:
While Pedron likes to think that fighting isn't his primary function, death comes naturally to him. Most of his abilities in battle are reliant on his retinue and gear, but he is also a street-raised fighter and trained with a sword. As a rogue, Pedron relies on dexterity and maneuvering and tries to avoid full frontal force. These are a few tricks up his sleeve:
- The dead are considered inanimate, and therefore may be utilized by Eakrid (see below)
- Hema, his blade of choice, drinks blood and grows in size until it is a full-two handed sword. This isn't alway a good thing for Pedron.
- As a traveler of bodily vessels, Pedron is significantly less sensitive to pain.

Hobbies:
A bard by trade, Pedron routinely practices story and song with whatever instrument he may find. Other than keeping his abilities as a performer sharp, He enjoys smoking from his pipe new and exotic flavors of tobacco he finds in his travels.

Your Gear:
Pedron carries little and cares for less. He wears a simple tunic, breeches, belt, and boots under a long, well - tailored coat that could pass for regal if it wasn't so worn (it looks older than him - because it is.). In this coat he habitually carries a hand-sized pipe carved with ornate images of dragons. In his leather pack are a collection of items that could be described as a ritual kit, holding a small mirror, some candles, ashes of an unknown origin, flint and steel, some parchment, ink and quill. There is also a small set of lock picking equipment, a waterskin, a small hand drum, a musical pipe, a large pouch of tobacco, and always a small stash of coin. His only weapon is a seemingly plain sword on his left hip, which he fondly refers to as "Hema" that alters its form at the touch of blood.

Your retinue:
Pedron has made a number of unholy allies (and enemies) in his time. Some names that he tries his best to remember (so that he isn't ended whenever they may meet) are:
-Djora: His ethereal ex-girlfriend. No, not ethereal in the "holding an otherworldly beauty" kind of way. Unfortunately there is only so much that can be done when the dearly depart. While on her good side, she is inclined to do a favor for Pedron that is within the capabilities of a ghostly humanoid. As a spirit lacking a corporeal form, she is unable to tangibly alter anything. She can however affect the senses of others and is good at spying, distracting, and causing a scare or two. Their past is touchy and hardly ever mentioned.
-Eakrid: Minor possession is Eakrid's specialty. Any living creature roughly no larger than a common hound and any size of inanimate object is usually susceptible to his temporary takeover. With this habit of body-borrowing, few other than Pedron know his true form.
-Manimomonar: Don't comment on his name. He knows it's complicated. No he won't spell it for you. Manimomonar is an irritable irritator. Basically, He functions as a catalyst for abilities and motion. Things gently pushed will act as if thrown, runs will be ran faster, jumps higher, screams louder, etc.
-Sivis Rivica: The mana eater. Sivis cannot perform magic but craves it. This is one reason why he gets along with Pedron well. He will embrace and attempt to consume a source of magic even if it is dangerous, like a moth to a flame. While this does not destroy him, it affects him - upon his remanifestation - as a bad hangover would.
*Tora: His plain old riding horse. She's a reliable companion though still newly in his ownership. Easily spooked by spirits, spectres, ghosts, ghouls, etc.

Retirement:
Technically speaking, Pedron is not retired and probably never will. His life already revolves around living independently and comfortably when not consulting with beings of death and darkness.

Your family:
None known.

Eccentric! Sometimes Pedron talks to himself, sometimes he talks to things others can't see. He is a habitual smoker and lover of the arts.

Life In The Vault

Maes MacCannon

Name: Maes MacCannon

Gender: Male

Age: 24

Appearance:

This is the last thing Maes sees in the mirror before starting his day. He stands at 6'3" with a muscular build developed through routine diet and fitness over years. Becoming very comfortable in his jumpsuit and work boots through extensive wear, he is hardly seen in anything else aside from gym clothes. Not many people look his way though, in fear of the daggers he perpetually stares.

Personality: Words commonly associated with Maes are "Temperamental" and "Scary". To others, It seems that his natural body temperature is permanently 10 degrees higher than the norm. If anyone dares to get within arms distance of him, they might come to realize he isn't a bad guy. A gentleman who knows how to have fun with any group. While he despises small talk, having a conversation with him reveals his intellect and charisma. That is, at least, until it gets heated. His assumption of superiority over others might not be far from a complex, but it's found in many people who work as hard as he does. If his record of outbursts and complications with other service members was erased, he would been seen as a high-productivity, stress-besting motivator/workaholic. Because of the latter, which shows no sign of slowing down, the former is usually shrugged off by his higher-ups. At his best, he is a gallant and capable leader that'll do whatever it takes to achieve whatever it is that needs achieving. At his worst, He is a destructive (to both himself and his environment) and chaotic insubordinate.

Occupation:
Primary Systems Operations and Management - "Yeah, sounds cool or whatever but I'm a glorified button pusher most of the time. Why do you think I'm in here turning knobs and reading meters instead of some second floor - dope? I make sure the systems vital to us living stay running and I go maintain them with some other handymen so they stay that way. Oxygen flow up to par? Check. Food storage temperatures within range? Check. There's a fire? Better seal the doors and remove the oxygen until its safe again. What? The lights? Listen, I don't give a radroach's rear about if you are in the dark or not. What else do you need?"

Biography: Growing up was rough for Maes. He was the only child of a mother who helped raise so many other boys and girls as a school teacher for early ages. His father, whom he believes he drew his brutish side from, was one of the toughest men among the Engineering Department - until he lost in a fight with a malfunctioning piece of heavy machinery. After that, it seemed all of the attention he got was negative. He would fight kids grades higher and in numbers. Sneak around after curfew. And in one fairly memorable instance, ordered the Overseer himself to do something not-so-pleasant with his personal record.
Maes made his name known for other things though. The results of his G.O.A.T. raised eyebrows as well as his ability to multitask and work efficiently without mistakes. That's how he ended up young with a supervisory position. His adult years have been filled with routine. Early mornings, early nights. Gym-work-lunch-work-sleep-repeat. Now he is looking for bigger mountains to climb.

Tokyo Ghoul RP

Yes please! I'd love to join this bloodbath of a universe.

The Accomplished

1. I love the diversity of multiple races and can't see it affecting gameplay much aside from cool descriptions of people and more fun names to call each other.

2. I'm for uncommon magic, even seen as frightening in some places, or evil. It's fun to work with environments like that. As long as it doesn't diminish non-magic users in the world.

I'm too excited for this game.

Life In The Vault

Name: Maes MacCannon

Gender: Male

Age: 24

Appearance:

This is the last thing Maes sees in the mirror before starting his day. He stands at 6'3" with a muscular build developed through routine diet and fitness over years. Becoming very comfortable in his jumpsuit and work boots through extensive wear, he is hardly seen in anything else aside from gym clothes. Not many people look his way though, in fear of the daggers he perpetually stares.

Personality: Words commonly associated with Maes are "Temperamental" and "Scary". To others, It seems that his natural body temperature is permanently 10 degrees higher than the norm. If anyone dares to get within arms distance of him, they might come to realize he isn't a bad guy. A gentleman who knows how to have fun with any group. While he despises small talk, having a conversation with him reveals his intellect and charisma. That is, at least, until it gets heated. His assumption of superiority over others might not be far from a complex, but it's found in many people who work as hard as he does. If his record of outbursts and complications with other service members was erased, he would been seen as a high-productivity, stress-besting motivator/workaholic. Because of the latter, which shows no sign of slowing down, the former is usually shrugged off by his higher-ups. At his best, he is a gallant and capable leader that'll do whatever it takes to achieve whatever it is that needs achieving. At his worst, He is a destructive (to both himself and his environment) and chaotic insubordinate.

Occupation:
Primary Systems Operations and Management - "Yeah, sounds cool or whatever but I'm a glorified button pusher most of the time. Why do you think I'm in here turning knobs and reading meters instead of some second floor - dope? I make sure the systems vital to us living stay running and I go maintain them with some other handymen so they stay that way. Oxygen flow up to par? Check. Food storage temperatures within range? Check. There's a fire? Better seal the doors and remove the oxygen until its safe again. What? The lights? Listen, I don't give a radroach's rear about if you are in the dark or not. What else do you need?"

Biography: Growing up was rough for Maes. He was the only child of a mother who helped raise so many other boys and girls as a school teacher for early ages. His father, whom he believes he drew his brutish side from, was one of the toughest men among the Engineering Department - until he lost in a fight with a malfunctioning piece of heavy machinery. After that, it seemed all of the attention he got was negative. He would fight kids grades higher and in numbers. Sneak around after curfew. And in one fairly memorable instance, ordered the Overseer himself to do something not-so-pleasant with his personal record.
Maes made his name known for other things though. The results of his G.O.A.T. raised eyebrows as well as his ability to multitask and work efficiently without mistakes. That's how he ended up young with a supervisory position. His adult years have been filled with routine. Early mornings, early nights. Gym-work-lunch-work-sleep-repeat. Now he is looking for bigger mountains to climb.

Life In The Vault

I would like to live under the earth with all of you! I'll get working on a character.

Footprints In The Snow [Still Accepting!]

Connor Mcclain

Age: 29

Gender: Male

Equipment:
-Clothes: A pair of glasses (Severely near-sighted), a black cap, a black scarf, longjohns, a black sweater with the word "DesCo" Printed in small letters on the left breast, a pair of insulated waterproof overalls, snow boots, and a deep-pocketed grey trenchcoat.

-Items: A diverse kit of small handyman's tools (glasses repair, watch repair, small wrenches, screwdrivers, a miniature ballpein and forked hammer) in a high quality leather pouch as well as a wallet with $50 dollars, a picture, and a cafe's card one stamp away from a free regular-size drink.

Skills:
- Mechanical Engineering (Major): A Career and a hobby that has lead him to being fluent with figuring out and fixing many types of machinery.

Personality:
Connor has a golden heart held in shaky hands. What was once thought as too much daily caffeine was revealed as an almost oppressive amount of anxiety. He could never be the valiant hero because he could never work up the courage to speak to the princess. But, behind the breathy mutters and wide-eyed stutters, there is intelligence and a desperate will to survive. At his best, he is a capable, whatever-it-takes, silent problem-solver. In darker times, he is on the ground with his head in his hands, trying to put pieces back together.

An aquarius (though he doesn't really buy that kind of stuff), an only child, and a widow, Connor both cares and worries for others to an incredible extent. His passion touches not only man, but machine. Anything with moving parts puts a smile on his face. He wonders if it's because these things are easier to understand. Connor fancies the color blue (like the sky before it faded), books over movies, and coffee over tea.

History:
Pre-Ice Age
Connor grew up tall and lean, one more for brains than brawn. He found himself with a scholarship to his state's most esteemed college. There, he met his late wife and graduated with a Masters in Mechanical Engineering as a married man. The Ice Age isn't what took his wife away, It was a car accident on the way out on a date to celebrate being hired to a salary job that would make them -and the children they were talking about having- very comfortable. This was probably when everything started falling apart, including his social competence. He proved not to be everything his company was looking for, and didn't last very long. Then he took up shelter in a little apartment above a quaint antique shop, where he tweaked and tinkered the rustic belongings of the old couple that owned it. He hid there, content and solitary, until the cold forced him out.

Post-Ice Age
After his car couldn't take to the tundra, he left it behind... Except for the battery. That made it's way with him and a large camping pack full of provisions from building to abandoned building. "South" was the word he woke up and fell asleep to. For a while everything made sense. There were times where it seemed there was no one left, and this brought peace in an otherwise terrifying world. After time, even taller buildings were sinking, the supplies has was scavenging grew more scarce, and the world kept growing colder. He lost his pack and rations to animals that, just like him, were trying to survive. He was starting to think some company might not be a bad thing.

And like that, it happened. One day, while beating at a frozen door that lead from a rooftop to what he was hoping was a well-insulated building with endless hot water, he saw a black shapes off in the white distance. Apprehension subsided to survival instinct and he made a large enough racket to get their attention.