With his legs and arms wrapped around the trunk of the tree, Christopher began to slowly slide his way down the tree. In any other situation he might have looked a bit silly, but at the moment he could see no other way out of his current dilemma; it was either slide or jump, and jumping his current height did not look safe at all. “Fucking bullshit,” he muttered as he slid down, “Goddamn shirt ripped, plane crashed, stuck in a goddamn tree--what the?” He stopped as he heard a loud creaking noise, followed by a snap. Petrified, he dared not to look up, fearing that he might see what he had truly been worried about. He tightened his grip on the trunk, trying to desperately to make his body as flat as possible. Something was about to fall down, and he knew he did not want to be in the way of that.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Whatever had made the snapping noise had stopped, and Christopher's arms and legs were beginning to tire from holding his position. So, in order to get things moving again, he loosened his grip on the bark, “Okay, I should be good to go now,” his voice riddled with doubt. He took one last glance upwards, and what he saw gave him very much relief. Up in the tree, perched on a tree branch, was his airplane seat. It was swaying back and forth, back and forth, “Wait, shit!” Christopher panicked, if the seat was swaying, then it was probably going to fall. By accident he loosened his grip on, and began sliding at an increasingly rapid pace. Any attempt to stop with his hand would cause severe burns, so he dug his shoes into the tree bark to cause friction.
It slowed him down by quite a bit, but the speed was still much faster than he would have like it to be. He could feel his blue jeans beginning to be torn apart by the bark, his hands, likewise, were beginning to get damaged from the intense friction. He could feel the blisters already beginning to swell in his hands. “Motherfucker!” He gritted his teeth through the pain. The slide down felt much longer than it actually lasted, after about six seconds his body slammed into the forest floor, feet first. It felt like a shockwave through his body when he landed, he could only think of a few occasions where he had felt this much pain. “Fuckin-” he tried to speak, but his voice was replaced by painful grunts, as he made his attempt to stand up. Nothing felt broken, however, it could easily be that the pain was masked by his adrenaline.
“I gotta get to the beach. See if anyone needs hel-” The snapping noise interrupted him once more, only this time it did not stop. He looked up and saw what was coming, his seat. “FUCK!” Christopher started running, if you could call it running. Just as he began running, he felt an intense pain in his right leg. It was as if someone had stabbed him with a knife, and twisted it violently. “Shit, fuck, shit!” His hobble-run managed to get him out of the woods, and not smashed by a plane seat, but he was not able to hold up his weight for long. When he finally made it to the beach, he fell face first into the sand. He decided to lay their for a moment and catch his breath. Everyone else could wait.
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Animals of all shapes and sizes gathered in the trees, curious, and also terrified, at the scene that had just unfolded before their eyes. Smoked lingered high in the sky, temporarily blocking out sunlight. A young lemur jumped from tree to tree in the thick canopy, his black and white tail occasionally poking through the leaves, his curiosity drove him to leave the pack behind in order to get a closer look at the wreckage. There, near the shore of the island, lay what looked like half of a plane. Massive in size, the torn plane had sunk deep into the sand. The other half was nowhere in sight, although further inland smoke could be seen rising from the trees. It was likely that the smoke led to the missing half of the plane.
Suddenly, breaking the quiet, there was a loud screech, “Ahhh! HELP! I can’t move!” The screams of terror belonged to a woman, her leg had been crushed by a food cart. Somewhere underneath all of the wreckage, there were survivors fighting to escape the flaming debris. And, as if on cue, more shouts of panic soon filled the air. The gathered animals, seeming to respond to the spreading panic, quickly rushed back inland in an attempt to escape the madness that had come to their isolated island. The young lemur made a risky jump to catch up to his pack, and, in the process, broke a weak tree branch.
The branch fell through the canopy, slapping other branches on the way down, and, eventually, it hit something that did not belong to the vast forest. Dangling in the tree was a large man, an unconscious man. Still strapped into his seat, he had been spared any major damage. Albeit, he was not out of danger yet. The airplane seat had landed awkwardly in the tree, and was slowly leaning over the edge. One wrong move would send the seat, along with himself, speeding down to the ground. It was this man, Christopher, that the falling branch hit. Luckily he was nice and drunk, so when the branch smacked his head, he hardly felt a thing. Although, it was just enough to pull him from his slumber.
“Huh, the fucks goin' on?” his voice was sluggish and low as he talked, not quite realizing what was going on. He brought his rough hands to his eyes, and attempted to rub away his exhaustion. It was then that he realized what had happened, “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Instincts kicked in and his body immediately went still. “Okay, Chris. N-nothing to worry about,” he tried desperately to reassure himself. “You’re just stuck in a giant fucking tree.” There was an empty seat next to him, he could only assume that the passenger that was in the plane next to him had perished in the crash. Not wanting to end up like his fellow man, he quickly decided to escape his current situation.
“Alright, where am I?” In military training his drill sergeant has always told him to be wary of his surroundings; know where you are, know where you need to be, and know where you don’t need to be. Those had always been the golden rules. “Okay,” he took a deep breath, “I’m in the tree, I don’t need to be in the tree, and I don’t want to be in the fucking tree. I need to be on the ground. Ground, good. Tree, bad.” Taking care not to move anything but his head, so that he did not tip the seat over the edge, he looked beneath him. “There!” He shouted to no one in particular. Only a few feet beneath him was another branch. It was long, wide in circumference, and, most importantly, it looked sturdy enough to support his weight.
“Alright, all I need to do is unbuckle the seat belt and I should fall straight to it. Simple enough, right, Chris?” It was a simple plan, sure, but simple could go very wrong very fast. There was a chance that the seat would fall down with him, and probably crush him in the process. His large hands wrapped around the seat belt, and his thumb eventually came to rest on the button that led to freedom. “Fuck it!” Without any more hesitation he pushed his thumb into the button. With a click and a snap, Christopher was sent flying down. The burly man did not stop until he hit the target branch. Had his arms not been conditioned from military training, his grip might not have held. While it was not as eloquent as an acrobatics landing might have been, he managed to hold onto the branch. Sadly, though, his shirt did snag and tear on the way down. “Damn it,” he muttered. His favorite brown shirt had been ruined. Knowing that he had bigger problems to worry about, he pulled himself up and onto the tree branch. At the moment it held underneath weight. After a moment of sitting, he broke the silence with a deep sign.
The forest floor was about fifty feet down, and that made him begin to wonder, “Are all of the trees so fucking huge on this island?” Christopher decided to take a moment to rest, and look around. He let his eyes wander all over the island; it all seemed so foreign to him. Never in his life had seen, or even heard of, trees that were as large as these. “Where the hell are we?” His question went unanswered. It was then that he noticed the screams of the other survivors. Until now, it had not even occurred to him that there might be others.
Suddenly, breaking the quiet, there was a loud screech, “Ahhh! HELP! I can’t move!” The screams of terror belonged to a woman, her leg had been crushed by a food cart. Somewhere underneath all of the wreckage, there were survivors fighting to escape the flaming debris. And, as if on cue, more shouts of panic soon filled the air. The gathered animals, seeming to respond to the spreading panic, quickly rushed back inland in an attempt to escape the madness that had come to their isolated island. The young lemur made a risky jump to catch up to his pack, and, in the process, broke a weak tree branch.
The branch fell through the canopy, slapping other branches on the way down, and, eventually, it hit something that did not belong to the vast forest. Dangling in the tree was a large man, an unconscious man. Still strapped into his seat, he had been spared any major damage. Albeit, he was not out of danger yet. The airplane seat had landed awkwardly in the tree, and was slowly leaning over the edge. One wrong move would send the seat, along with himself, speeding down to the ground. It was this man, Christopher, that the falling branch hit. Luckily he was nice and drunk, so when the branch smacked his head, he hardly felt a thing. Although, it was just enough to pull him from his slumber.
“Huh, the fucks goin' on?” his voice was sluggish and low as he talked, not quite realizing what was going on. He brought his rough hands to his eyes, and attempted to rub away his exhaustion. It was then that he realized what had happened, “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Instincts kicked in and his body immediately went still. “Okay, Chris. N-nothing to worry about,” he tried desperately to reassure himself. “You’re just stuck in a giant fucking tree.” There was an empty seat next to him, he could only assume that the passenger that was in the plane next to him had perished in the crash. Not wanting to end up like his fellow man, he quickly decided to escape his current situation.
“Alright, where am I?” In military training his drill sergeant has always told him to be wary of his surroundings; know where you are, know where you need to be, and know where you don’t need to be. Those had always been the golden rules. “Okay,” he took a deep breath, “I’m in the tree, I don’t need to be in the tree, and I don’t want to be in the fucking tree. I need to be on the ground. Ground, good. Tree, bad.” Taking care not to move anything but his head, so that he did not tip the seat over the edge, he looked beneath him. “There!” He shouted to no one in particular. Only a few feet beneath him was another branch. It was long, wide in circumference, and, most importantly, it looked sturdy enough to support his weight.
“Alright, all I need to do is unbuckle the seat belt and I should fall straight to it. Simple enough, right, Chris?” It was a simple plan, sure, but simple could go very wrong very fast. There was a chance that the seat would fall down with him, and probably crush him in the process. His large hands wrapped around the seat belt, and his thumb eventually came to rest on the button that led to freedom. “Fuck it!” Without any more hesitation he pushed his thumb into the button. With a click and a snap, Christopher was sent flying down. The burly man did not stop until he hit the target branch. Had his arms not been conditioned from military training, his grip might not have held. While it was not as eloquent as an acrobatics landing might have been, he managed to hold onto the branch. Sadly, though, his shirt did snag and tear on the way down. “Damn it,” he muttered. His favorite brown shirt had been ruined. Knowing that he had bigger problems to worry about, he pulled himself up and onto the tree branch. At the moment it held underneath weight. After a moment of sitting, he broke the silence with a deep sign.
The forest floor was about fifty feet down, and that made him begin to wonder, “Are all of the trees so fucking huge on this island?” Christopher decided to take a moment to rest, and look around. He let his eyes wander all over the island; it all seemed so foreign to him. Never in his life had seen, or even heard of, trees that were as large as these. “Where the hell are we?” His question went unanswered. It was then that he noticed the screams of the other survivors. Until now, it had not even occurred to him that there might be others.
Name: Christopher Knight
Age: 27
Gender:
Appearance: Soldier is the term that comes to mind when someone sees Christopher for the first time. Clipped nice and short on the sides and back of his head, only the top portion of his head was saved from near baldness; High and Tight was the given name to the style. It’s not just the hair, though, his large and sturdy stature also give him the look of a rough man. Standing a few inches over six feet tall, Christopher was a very intimidating man. Whether it be his burly structure or even his brown eyebrows, which seemed to be permanently stuck in a frown, his aura practically screams danger. Gruff like the rest of his appearance, his hazelnut complexion gives him a dark look. Despite all of this, however, there is one feature that isn’t harsh; green eyes, piercing green eyes. His bright green, in the right light, give him a sort of peaceful appearance. Fuck it, Ditte. He’s wearing a brown short sleeve tee-shirt, blue jeans, and black sneakers. You rushed me.
Background: Christopher was born in California, and lived there for the majority of his life. Like a typical in kid America, much of his early life was spent in school. It wasn’t until after graduation that his life really took off. Once he said his goodbyes to his parents, he decided to travel the world. Unfortunately for him, he did not even make it out of California. With no money to live off of, and no job to remedy the situation, he did what seemed the easiest.
Christopher joined the military when he was nineteen, and served for six years before he got served his dishonorable discharge. During his service Christopher became an alcoholic, it was simply the easiest way to deal with the stress. One day, while he was on guard duty, he decided to patrol the base intoxicated. Obviously it was not the greatest decision in his life. It took no time at all for his commanding officer notice, and he was quickly dismissed from the service.
With a dishonorable discharge on his record, Chris could find work in the civilian life. So he decided to take a plane to Australia.
Other: N/A
Age: 27
Gender:
Appearance: Soldier is the term that comes to mind when someone sees Christopher for the first time. Clipped nice and short on the sides and back of his head, only the top portion of his head was saved from near baldness; High and Tight was the given name to the style. It’s not just the hair, though, his large and sturdy stature also give him the look of a rough man. Standing a few inches over six feet tall, Christopher was a very intimidating man. Whether it be his burly structure or even his brown eyebrows, which seemed to be permanently stuck in a frown, his aura practically screams danger. Gruff like the rest of his appearance, his hazelnut complexion gives him a dark look. Despite all of this, however, there is one feature that isn’t harsh; green eyes, piercing green eyes. His bright green, in the right light, give him a sort of peaceful appearance. Fuck it, Ditte. He’s wearing a brown short sleeve tee-shirt, blue jeans, and black sneakers. You rushed me.
Background: Christopher was born in California, and lived there for the majority of his life. Like a typical in kid America, much of his early life was spent in school. It wasn’t until after graduation that his life really took off. Once he said his goodbyes to his parents, he decided to travel the world. Unfortunately for him, he did not even make it out of California. With no money to live off of, and no job to remedy the situation, he did what seemed the easiest.
Christopher joined the military when he was nineteen, and served for six years before he got served his dishonorable discharge. During his service Christopher became an alcoholic, it was simply the easiest way to deal with the stress. One day, while he was on guard duty, he decided to patrol the base intoxicated. Obviously it was not the greatest decision in his life. It took no time at all for his commanding officer notice, and he was quickly dismissed from the service.
With a dishonorable discharge on his record, Chris could find work in the civilian life. So he decided to take a plane to Australia.
Other: N/A
Closed
Oh, alright. So basically just elemental magic, amplified through magic harnesses. Gotcha.
You have piqued my interest.
Can we have little bit more information, though? I was wondering what different types of magic there are.
Can we have little bit more information, though? I was wondering what different types of magic there are.
RIP
And I'll try to get my character sheet up before I go to bed.
Yikes. It reminds me Starship Troopers.
TheMasterNarrator said
Nope. That's not the sort of Carnifex I was referring to. I was talking about this:And for comparison, that little person in the top left of the first one who he could swallow in one bite is roughly nine feet tall. So he's about the size of a house.
Yikes. It reminds me Starship Troopers.
TheMasterNarrator said
I beg to differ. I think a charging Carnifex would be more intimidating, among other things.
I'd probably agree with you but I have no idea what a Carnifex is. Tried looking it out and all I found was some band.
EDIT: Never mind, I think I found it. Looks pretty terrifying.
Pyro V said
I'd be far more scared of a charging werewolf than something that looks human.
That's assuming that the vampire looks like a human. I'd much rather take on a werewolf than, let's say, the vampire lords from Skyrim.
Larfleeze said
Great, now you have to call me Daddy, Baby or Pappi LaBron. Work Hours are 12 to 9, Sundays off only, we have Dental but no health insurance nor do we have a Union, they've all been crushed by the back of my hand.
You the boss, Papi LaBron. Just direct me to my corner.
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