Turbowraith

Kill the Heroes! (Sorry, we're full for now)

Hey, Narcissism is completely fine. Just remember the golden rule. I am always better than you. My favorite character is the Skeleton just cause of how out there he is. Tourettes and the ability to punch anything? That is why he is awesome.

@Pikmin Eye

The Skeleton thanks you for your superior taste. And by thank I mean probably punch in the face.

Also I found our party's theme song.

This.

Kill the Heroes! (Sorry, we're full for now)

My heart aches by the lack of lewd jokes. Aches I tell you.

Also pardon me if my post's tiny as fuck.

Kill the Heroes! (Sorry, we're full for now)

"Glad to see my offer interested you!"

Incoherent screaming was all that followed the phrase. That, and a rather impolite remark, possibly concerning a peculiar burst of magical energies the skeleton felt once he bashed the door. He was, after all, extremely distrustful of spellcasters, since their constant schemes and frequent visits to graveyards pestered every resident of said establishments including himself. The tower owner's appearance did not help at all, since he quite obviously looked the part. Still standing outside the door, it bellowed his response in a barely intelligible manner.

"WHAT THE UNHOLY ROOSTER FUCK IS THIS WIZARDRY?! YOU TRYING TO TRICK ME?!"

A hair's breadth away from flipping out, the undead creature raised a bony index finger inches away from the mage's face for a short while, and then stood silent, producing a low growling noise. Apparently, it was waiting for the mage to further elaborate, though whatever semblance of patience it had was running shorter by the second.

Kill the Heroes! (Sorry, we're full for now)

I do believe it's @KRIEEEG's turn, since The Skeleton can't quite do anything else.

Kill the Heroes! (Sorry, we're full for now)

Reverse haloween demilich. Now that's an idea I can get behind. More undead for the party!

Kill the Heroes! (Sorry, we're full for now)

The undead creature stood silent for a moment, weighing his options before answering in a tone he never strayed too far from.

"BEAT UP? REWARD YOU SAY? FINE! LEAD DAMN YOU!"

The Skeleton was not fond of running. For one reason or another, he only took wide, calculated steps. Perhaps because he had no cares at all, perhaps he simply did not wish to do so or his build did not allow him. Whatever the case could be, his long limbs were more than enough to keep up with the shadowy tree rat. Grunting and cussing for hours on end along the way, he finally reached the gates of a peculiar city. He had not seen it before, nor heard of it. After all, he hated cities and avoided them at all costs, and the wilderness offered no gossip. Its' walls were crudely built, and the guards comprised of numerous inhuman races, indicating the nature of its' inhabitants. Well, the overwhelming noise that came from inside was a good hint too. The Skeleton was fuming.

Like a red-hot pot with a cork plugging it, he walked through the slum-like interior gritting his teeth, bumping into other denizens, and knocking a good few of them down without turning to look at them at all, for that would spell disaster. Grinding his fingertips against his fist weapons, he proceeded further and further into the derelict buildings, crowded bazaars and whatnot, when he finally saw a tower not too far away. It called to him. Whatever wizard tricks had conjured that rat drew him there, he almost felt it. The rodent went on ahead as his own pace slowed down. The crowd had thinned, after all, and he had no more use for a guide. Right when he was about to sink into his usual state, he saw two familiar silhouettes walking out of a nearby alleyway.

Ghouls. Vile, corpse eating vermin that had the audacity to gnaw on his bones once. This was far too much for the skeleton to handle. He charged at them with full force, his eyes seemingly ablaze, as he screamed loud enough for his voice to echo across the district. "BONE-BITING BASTARDS. I'LL CAVE YOUR HEADS." Though what was peculiar is that instead of lunging at him, the two corpse-eaters gave each other worried looks and skittered away, in a pace much faster than the skeleton had the patience to reach. Giving up the chase instantaneously, he resumed his walk to the tower. A few minutes had passed since he had lost sight of the ghost rat, but he made his way to the entrance. Bashing the door a few times in rapid succession, he awaited in relative silence, but not before feeling a peculiar wave of magic wash over him.

"DAMMIT. SHIT. HELL. WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT. OPEN UP."

Kill the Heroes! (Sorry, we're full for now)

And here goes my first post, crafted in a bout of insomnia and with the help of a pint or two to boot.

how's it going?

@AwesomeZero5

Ey! What's up?

Kill the Heroes! (Sorry, we're full for now)

The cool night's breeze made tree leaves sing in unison. In a clearing, the grass swirled in mesmerizing patterns and a lone owl flew across it in search for a meal. Rays of dim moonlight creeped through the foliage but were not enough to blot out a myriad stars from the firmament. They formed shapes of beauty indescribable, ones that drunken peasants and busy nobles did not normally appreciate. And all through the forest there was silence-

"SHIT. PISS. BADGER CUNTS. DAMMIT FUCK."

Yeah, no, there wasn't silence, alright. A great big skeleton, clad in fur and plate stomped heavily through the clearing, disregarding his surroundings and bashing his massive knuckle dusters together in anger. Well, they were more like massive "studded hexagonal steel slabs of death worn in the hands" than knuckles, but you get the idea. Right after tripping on a rather sizable (and visible) rock, it fell to the ground, and in a fit of even greater, hysterical rage it pummeled the stone until all that remained were pebbles and a fine powder. Having dug a small hole with his fists where the rock once stood, it once again went on its' way, mumbling in a low, incomprehensible tone, the shields strapped on his back clattering audibly as he moved, only allowing a bizarre sound that resembled "landboat" to escape from the overall ruckus and panic this one-monster tavern brawl created.

Before he could once again sink into the woods, he noticed a shadowy outline of a rodent approaching and swiftly turned around in a jerky fashion, arms flailing about. As it neared, his anger grew once again, and he realized that what awaited him would surely be a most bothersome experience. After all, the Skeleton knew quite well how much of a pain most incorporeal creatures were, always lamenting their lives being cut short and other such nonsense. The apparition being a "tree rat" as he referred them made the matter even worse. Once the rat had come close enough though, it stopped for a moment, as if to talk, and when it began to do so, the skeleton stood fuming, fingers clenched rigidly in a half-fist. Had it possessed a pair of lungs, he would be breathing heavily in annoyance. The squirrel delivered a surprisingly short bunch of sentences, but more than enough to piss the skeleton off.

"SHUT UP DAMMIT. FINE. WHO'S THERE? WHERE DO I GO? TALK. JUST GET OFF MY FACE."

Kill the Heroes! (Sorry, we're full for now)

Name: Only responds with "AARGH!" when asked. Is usually referred as The Irate Skeleton, or simply The Skeleton

Appearance: A towering, thick-boned skeleton, walking in a slight, perpetual hunch, this undead creature is nothing less than a being of pure, unadulterated rage. It's eye sockets are somehow twisted into a shape that reveal its' intentions, and his intentions are none other than being really, REALLY f@$%ing angry. Its' only garments are hides fashioned into a kilt, thick, heavy boots and gauntlets, and even though age-old and time-worn, they do display a noticeable degree of craftsmanship originating from the northern regions. When it comes to armor, he wears nothing other than a pair of slightly oversized shoulderplates, a helm, and two round wooden shields strapped on his back.

Race: Undead (skeleton)

Class: He beats sh!t with his fists.

Attributes:
+Very fast movements and reaction speed.
+Strong as sh!t.
+Insanely durable.
+/-Two and a half meters tall, a.k.a. Big motherf@ker.
-Slow footspeed.
-Holy magic hurts him very, very bad.
-Healing/life magic either hurts him or leaves him unaffected.
-Always angry. All the time. Subtlety and using anything but force to solve a problem are concepts all but alien to him.
-May be sort of smart, but too angry for it to show, matter, or have any practical application. Basically enraged to the point of stupidity.
-May become more of a burden than an aid to others.

Powers:
The Skeleton claims that he's able to "PUNCH EVERYTHING." And while whether or not the statement's exaggerated is up for debate, one thing's for certain. Creatures and things that would logically be unpunchable recoil back when the Skeleton strikes them. Slime monsters are seen rubbing their heads in defeat and even ghosts are left with black eyes. That's not to say that his punches become any stronger, though.
The nature of this ability remains a mystery, though it is believed by observers that the sheer willpower displayed by The Skeleton has conjured some kind of crude magical effect.

Equipment: Iron knuckle dusters, shoulderplates, helm, shields and the friends he'll make along the way.

Motivation: A complete mystery. It is unknown if The Skeleton has any motives at all, though he can be heard screaming profanity as if he just committed a massive blunder even when he thinks he's alone.

Background: Honestly, there's not much to say. After haunting a cemetery of some small, nondescript village, he was eventually annoyed by the other ghosts and ghoulies so much that he decided to wander the countryside instead. Not before giving a good beating to some of them.

The Grave Keepers

This Rp seems to have died, sadly. It's a damn shame, I loved the concept.