*I want him to remain a badass normal, but I was thinking he would use occult items or possibly introducing witchcraft of some sort for him to wield.*
*gotcha. Well if he uses occult items, maybe he has some artifact that lets him see or interact with Spectres. All I can think of is the Lens of Truth from Zelda but you could do a lot of other stuff with that concept.*
*Already have a concept for that. Deathmasks, spirit boxes, and other classic stuff. I'm also thinking he might wield Divine Tape, a kind of pink paper that always counts as physical to Spectres, and maybe he'd be able to create food-based buffs, since I appreciate food and such.*
*Would anyone like to RP so I dont have to sleep and have bad dreams?*
*I can for a little bit but we will definitely have to finish tomorrow.*
Sparrow is working out in the forest, his shirt off, revealing cold skin, scars of all shapes and sizes, as well as stitches all along his body that seem to be holding him together as he does one arm pull ups on a tree branch. *Do you want anyone else.*
Stroth suddenly appears, sitting on the bench and looking down at him, smiling.
*Hmmmm. Who is your most powerful character.*
*Rag by a huge amount, with Sparrow maybe as a second in his prime.*
His muscles seem sustained despite his somewhat dead form. He grunts with every pull up, sweat beading, he hasn’t noticed her yet.
While Rag is meditating, he feels he is being watched.
She walks down the tree, defying gravity, and looking up at him from the ground.
He calmly opens his eyes to see who is watching him. Perception:27
He finally notices her, smiling slight as he switches arms, beginning to do pull ups with the other “Howdy Stroth.”
*It was originally a 31, either way want to continue?*
*Humanity has always relied upon two things to save them: their tools, and their faith. Both have betrayed you the instant the carbon monoxide built up in your shelter.*
*Your options are clear: breathe in the open gates to Hell, or be reduced to a crawling thing on the margin of a disintegrating world.*
Ichigo is wandering around town, his cat sitting on his shoulder. People are staring at him but nothing beyond that. He is rather relieved that they are not overreacting to him as he is the monster from children's stories.
Teddy is at his bakery, humming to himself as he makes a new batch of croissants for consumption.
Scott is walking around town, in one of the bookshops. He is purchasing new ink for his typewriter and a book on the multiverse.
*Humanity has always relied upon two things to save them: their tools, and their faith. Both have betrayed you the instant the carbon monoxide built up in your shelter.*
*Your options are clear: breathe in the open gates to Hell, or be reduced to a crawling thing on the margin of a disintegrating world.*
He shakes his head with a smile. “I ain’t strong, just consistent. Nothin’ special.”
"Better than people doing nothing." She laughs.
“Ain’t that the truth.” He joins her in the laughter, she can see something, fading in and out on his back, the words ‘No gods, no lords. Just men and blood.’ Glowing like a brand.
*Humanity has always relied upon two things to save them: their tools, and their faith. Both have betrayed you the instant the carbon monoxide built up in your shelter.*
*Your options are clear: breathe in the open gates to Hell, or be reduced to a crawling thing on the margin of a disintegrating world.*
*I hope this hurts.*
*You dare to underestimate my lung capacity! I may not survive, but I will struggle with the spite of a thousand suns! Fight me if you dare!*
He shakes his head with a smile. “I ain’t strong, just consistent. Nothin’ special.”
"Better than people doing nothing." She laughs.
“Ain’t that the truth.” He joins her in the laughter, she can see something, fading in and out on his back, the words ‘No gods, no lords. Just men and blood.’ Glowing like a brand.
She narrows her eyes, jumping on his shoulder, landing gracefully like a cat. She is as light as a feather, barely any weight on him. She examines the brand, thinking.
*Humanity has always relied upon two things to save them: their tools, and their faith. Both have betrayed you the instant the carbon monoxide built up in your shelter.*
*Your options are clear: breathe in the open gates to Hell, or be reduced to a crawling thing on the margin of a disintegrating world.*
*I hope this hurts.*
*You dare to underestimate my lung capacity! I may not survive, but I will struggle with the spite of a thousand suns! Fight me if you dare!*
*The cold rips through our defenses. Every vulnerability will be exploited. Every nasty thought will come to the surface. You were prepared a minute ago, weren't you? Individual toughness, preparedness, good-heartedness... they all mean nothing once it drops below zero. The gist is that we've found the freezing point of human will.*
*But I will not discourage you. You have drawn your last. How you spend it is your decision.*
He shakes his head with a smile. “I ain’t strong, just consistent. Nothin’ special.”
"Better than people doing nothing." She laughs.
“Ain’t that the truth.” He joins her in the laughter, she can see something, fading in and out on his back, the words ‘No gods, no lords. Just men and blood.’ Glowing like a brand.
She narrows her eyes, jumping on his shoulder, landing gracefully like a cat. She is as light as a feather, barely any weight on him. She examines the brand, thinking.
Every time he takes a breath the brand becomes brighter, and dims in the moments after, it seems to be more than flesh deep, carrying some kind of curse. He continues to workout, not realizing the brand is present.
He shakes his head with a smile. “I ain’t strong, just consistent. Nothin’ special.”
"Better than people doing nothing." She laughs.
“Ain’t that the truth.” He joins her in the laughter, she can see something, fading in and out on his back, the words ‘No gods, no lords. Just men and blood.’ Glowing like a brand.
She narrows her eyes, jumping on his shoulder, landing gracefully like a cat. She is as light as a feather, barely any weight on him. She examines the brand, thinking.
Every time he takes a breath the brand becomes brighter, and dims in the moments after, it seems to be more than flesh deep, carrying some kind of curse. He continues to workout, not realizing the brand is present.
*Humanity has always relied upon two things to save them: their tools, and their faith. Both have betrayed you the instant the carbon monoxide built up in your shelter.*
*Your options are clear: breathe in the open gates to Hell, or be reduced to a crawling thing on the margin of a disintegrating world.*
*I hope this hurts.*
*You dare to underestimate my lung capacity! I may not survive, but I will struggle with the spite of a thousand suns! Fight me if you dare!*
*The cold rips through our defenses. Every vulnerability will be exploited. Every nasty thought will come to the surface. You were prepared a minute ago, weren't you? Individual toughness, preparedness, good-heartedness... they all mean nothing once it drops below zero. The gist is that we've found the freezing point of human will.*
*But I will not discourage you. You have drawn your last. How you spend it is your decision.*
*I break my arm, jumpstart my heart in the last moments, grasp the warmth I can get as the blood rushes to the wound. Use the time to think at least a little more clearly as I look for some way out of all of this. The blood may be draining from my mind, but it those moments I may have a chance.*
He shakes his head with a smile. “I ain’t strong, just consistent. Nothin’ special.”
"Better than people doing nothing." She laughs.
“Ain’t that the truth.” He joins her in the laughter, she can see something, fading in and out on his back, the words ‘No gods, no lords. Just men and blood.’ Glowing like a brand.
She narrows her eyes, jumping on his shoulder, landing gracefully like a cat. She is as light as a feather, barely any weight on him. She examines the brand, thinking.
Every time he takes a breath the brand becomes brighter, and dims in the moments after, it seems to be more than flesh deep, carrying some kind of curse. He continues to workout, not realizing the brand is present.
She taps his head "Hey, something burning on ya."
He turns his head as far as he can “Huh? Is there, I don’t feel nothin’ anymore. Not anythin’ painful anyway.”
Barbeau is trying to get some Hunters to stop smashing his false Jinzo statues. The exorcists are shivering from his freezing presence, their electrical gadgets failing to function. Barbeau hasn't attacked once, and he's winning the battle decisively.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
Awake, impure, divine
Breathgiver of the Strugels
To post a comment, please login or register a new account.
*Already have a concept for that. Deathmasks, spirit boxes, and other classic stuff. I'm also thinking he might wield Divine Tape, a kind of pink paper that always counts as physical to Spectres, and maybe he'd be able to create food-based buffs, since I appreciate food and such.*
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
Awake, impure, divine
Breathgiver of the Strugels
*Hey everybody, consciousness has claimed another.*
*It was originally a 31, either way want to continue?*
*Dear frog...*
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
Awake, impure, divine
Breathgiver of the Strugels
*Thank you Baalze, that frog is adorable.*
She chuckles, tilting her head "Howdy yourself strong man."
𝔾𝕖𝕥 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕥𝕠𝕡 𝕤𝕙𝕖𝕝𝕗, 𝕕𝕠𝕦𝕓𝕝𝕖 𝕣𝕠𝕔𝕜𝕤, 𝕡𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕔𝕠𝕥𝕔𝕙
𝕀'𝕧𝕖 𝕞𝕚𝕤𝕤𝕖𝕕 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕥𝕦𝕟𝕖 𝕠𝕗 𝕥𝕦𝕞𝕓𝕝𝕖𝕣𝕤 𝕔𝕝𝕚𝕟𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘
𝔻𝕖𝕒𝕝 𝕞𝕖 𝕚𝕟, 𝕜𝕚𝕔𝕜 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕚𝕟 𝕦𝕡 𝕒 𝕟𝕠𝕥𝕔𝕙
𝔻𝕚𝕧𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕚𝕟 𝕢𝕦𝕚𝕔𝕜𝕤𝕒𝕟𝕕'𝕤 𝕗𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕟 𝕤𝕚𝕟𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘
He shakes his head with a smile. “I ain’t strong, just consistent. Nothin’ special.”
"Better than people doing nothing." She laughs.
𝔾𝕖𝕥 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕥𝕠𝕡 𝕤𝕙𝕖𝕝𝕗, 𝕕𝕠𝕦𝕓𝕝𝕖 𝕣𝕠𝕔𝕜𝕤, 𝕡𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕔𝕠𝕥𝕔𝕙
𝕀'𝕧𝕖 𝕞𝕚𝕤𝕤𝕖𝕕 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕥𝕦𝕟𝕖 𝕠𝕗 𝕥𝕦𝕞𝕓𝕝𝕖𝕣𝕤 𝕔𝕝𝕚𝕟𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘
𝔻𝕖𝕒𝕝 𝕞𝕖 𝕚𝕟, 𝕜𝕚𝕔𝕜 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕚𝕟 𝕦𝕡 𝕒 𝕟𝕠𝕥𝕔𝕙
𝔻𝕚𝕧𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕚𝕟 𝕢𝕦𝕚𝕔𝕜𝕤𝕒𝕟𝕕'𝕤 𝕗𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕟 𝕤𝕚𝕟𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘
*Humanity has always relied upon two things to save them: their tools, and their faith. Both have betrayed you the instant the carbon monoxide built up in your shelter.*
*Your options are clear: breathe in the open gates to Hell, or be reduced to a crawling thing on the margin of a disintegrating world.*
*I hope this hurts.*
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
Awake, impure, divine
Breathgiver of the Strugels
*If anyone else wishes to rp:*
Ichigo is wandering around town, his cat sitting on his shoulder. People are staring at him but nothing beyond that. He is rather relieved that they are not overreacting to him as he is the monster from children's stories.
Teddy is at his bakery, humming to himself as he makes a new batch of croissants for consumption.
Scott is walking around town, in one of the bookshops. He is purchasing new ink for his typewriter and a book on the multiverse.
𝔾𝕖𝕥 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕥𝕠𝕡 𝕤𝕙𝕖𝕝𝕗, 𝕕𝕠𝕦𝕓𝕝𝕖 𝕣𝕠𝕔𝕜𝕤, 𝕡𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕔𝕠𝕥𝕔𝕙
𝕀'𝕧𝕖 𝕞𝕚𝕤𝕤𝕖𝕕 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕥𝕦𝕟𝕖 𝕠𝕗 𝕥𝕦𝕞𝕓𝕝𝕖𝕣𝕤 𝕔𝕝𝕚𝕟𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘
𝔻𝕖𝕒𝕝 𝕞𝕖 𝕚𝕟, 𝕜𝕚𝕔𝕜 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕚𝕟 𝕦𝕡 𝕒 𝕟𝕠𝕥𝕔𝕙
𝔻𝕚𝕧𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕚𝕟 𝕢𝕦𝕚𝕔𝕜𝕤𝕒𝕟𝕕'𝕤 𝕗𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕟 𝕤𝕚𝕟𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘
*Thats great grandpa, let's get you back to bed.*
𝔾𝕖𝕥 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕥𝕠𝕡 𝕤𝕙𝕖𝕝𝕗, 𝕕𝕠𝕦𝕓𝕝𝕖 𝕣𝕠𝕔𝕜𝕤, 𝕡𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕔𝕠𝕥𝕔𝕙
𝕀'𝕧𝕖 𝕞𝕚𝕤𝕤𝕖𝕕 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕥𝕦𝕟𝕖 𝕠𝕗 𝕥𝕦𝕞𝕓𝕝𝕖𝕣𝕤 𝕔𝕝𝕚𝕟𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘
𝔻𝕖𝕒𝕝 𝕞𝕖 𝕚𝕟, 𝕜𝕚𝕔𝕜 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕚𝕟 𝕦𝕡 𝕒 𝕟𝕠𝕥𝕔𝕙
𝔻𝕚𝕧𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕚𝕟 𝕢𝕦𝕚𝕔𝕜𝕤𝕒𝕟𝕕'𝕤 𝕗𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕟 𝕤𝕚𝕟𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘
“Ain’t that the truth.” He joins her in the laughter, she can see something, fading in and out on his back, the words ‘No gods, no lords. Just men and blood.’ Glowing like a brand.
*You dare to underestimate my lung capacity! I may not survive, but I will struggle with the spite of a thousand suns! Fight me if you dare!*
She narrows her eyes, jumping on his shoulder, landing gracefully like a cat. She is as light as a feather, barely any weight on him. She examines the brand, thinking.
𝔾𝕖𝕥 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕥𝕠𝕡 𝕤𝕙𝕖𝕝𝕗, 𝕕𝕠𝕦𝕓𝕝𝕖 𝕣𝕠𝕔𝕜𝕤, 𝕡𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕔𝕠𝕥𝕔𝕙
𝕀'𝕧𝕖 𝕞𝕚𝕤𝕤𝕖𝕕 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕥𝕦𝕟𝕖 𝕠𝕗 𝕥𝕦𝕞𝕓𝕝𝕖𝕣𝕤 𝕔𝕝𝕚𝕟𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘
𝔻𝕖𝕒𝕝 𝕞𝕖 𝕚𝕟, 𝕜𝕚𝕔𝕜 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕚𝕟 𝕦𝕡 𝕒 𝕟𝕠𝕥𝕔𝕙
𝔻𝕚𝕧𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕚𝕟 𝕢𝕦𝕚𝕔𝕜𝕤𝕒𝕟𝕕'𝕤 𝕗𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕟 𝕤𝕚𝕟𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘
*The cold rips through our defenses. Every vulnerability will be exploited. Every nasty thought will come to the surface. You were prepared a minute ago, weren't you? Individual toughness, preparedness, good-heartedness... they all mean nothing once it drops below zero. The gist is that we've found the freezing point of human will.*
*But I will not discourage you. You have drawn your last. How you spend it is your decision.*
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
Awake, impure, divine
Breathgiver of the Strugels
Every time he takes a breath the brand becomes brighter, and dims in the moments after, it seems to be more than flesh deep, carrying some kind of curse. He continues to workout, not realizing the brand is present.
She taps his head "Hey, something burning on ya."
𝔾𝕖𝕥 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕥𝕠𝕡 𝕤𝕙𝕖𝕝𝕗, 𝕕𝕠𝕦𝕓𝕝𝕖 𝕣𝕠𝕔𝕜𝕤, 𝕡𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕔𝕠𝕥𝕔𝕙
𝕀'𝕧𝕖 𝕞𝕚𝕤𝕤𝕖𝕕 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕥𝕦𝕟𝕖 𝕠𝕗 𝕥𝕦𝕞𝕓𝕝𝕖𝕣𝕤 𝕔𝕝𝕚𝕟𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘
𝔻𝕖𝕒𝕝 𝕞𝕖 𝕚𝕟, 𝕜𝕚𝕔𝕜 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕚𝕟 𝕦𝕡 𝕒 𝕟𝕠𝕥𝕔𝕙
𝔻𝕚𝕧𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕚𝕟 𝕢𝕦𝕚𝕔𝕜𝕤𝕒𝕟𝕕'𝕤 𝕗𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕟 𝕤𝕚𝕟𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘
*I break my arm, jumpstart my heart in the last moments, grasp the warmth I can get as the blood rushes to the wound. Use the time to think at least a little more clearly as I look for some way out of all of this. The blood may be draining from my mind, but it those moments I may have a chance.*
He turns his head as far as he can “Huh? Is there, I don’t feel nothin’ anymore. Not anythin’ painful anyway.”
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
Awake, impure, divine
Breathgiver of the Strugels