*I have something ready for whenever more folks show up.*
*Oh my gosh I just noticed your pfp!*
*Mervyn Peake, right?!*
*Indeed it is! Peak Mervyn Peake. I recently finished Titus Groan and really liked it.*
*I'm still struggling with it, unfortunately. It's lovely, don't get me wrong, but I feel like my comprehension level might be a bit low, heh.*
*I finally finished a character, by the way. He's a Burakumin chef who fights with his hands and is very gentle*
*It can definitely be hard to read at times. His writing style is so unique and poetic and all his characters were so interesting but the lack of real plot made it difficult. I had a deadline for when I had to return my copy which helped motivate me.*
*I'm still struggling with it, unfortunately. It's lovely, don't get me wrong, but I feel like my comprehension level might be a bit low, heh.*
*I finally finished a character, by the way. He's a Burakumin chef who fights with his hands and is very gentle*
*It can definitely be hard to read at times. His writing style is so unique and poetic and all his characters were so interesting but the lack of real plot made it difficult. I had a deadline for when I had to return my copy which helped motivate me.*
*Nice! Is that for this thread?*
*Indeed on all fronts.*
*He's also part of the Yakuza, meaning he's an enforcer instead of an actual assassin. Odds are he'd crumble in a fight with someone of 7th level or higher.*
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
May each word that I speak be backed by each of my teeth.
*I'm still struggling with it, unfortunately. It's lovely, don't get me wrong, but I feel like my comprehension level might be a bit low, heh.*
*I finally finished a character, by the way. He's a Burakumin chef who fights with his hands and is very gentle*
*It can definitely be hard to read at times. His writing style is so unique and poetic and all his characters were so interesting but the lack of real plot made it difficult. I had a deadline for when I had to return my copy which helped motivate me.*
*Nice! Is that for this thread?*
*Indeed on all fronts.*
*He's also part of the Yakuza, meaning he's an enforcer instead of an actual assassin. Odds are he'd crumble in a fight with someone of 7th level or higher.*
*Sweet, I usually like to keep my dudes at a lower level anyways. My dude is probably going to be around level 5. He’s also connected on some of my other characters.*
*I'm still struggling with it, unfortunately. It's lovely, don't get me wrong, but I feel like my comprehension level might be a bit low, heh.*
*I finally finished a character, by the way. He's a Burakumin chef who fights with his hands and is very gentle*
*It can definitely be hard to read at times. His writing style is so unique and poetic and all his characters were so interesting but the lack of real plot made it difficult. I had a deadline for when I had to return my copy which helped motivate me.*
*Nice! Is that for this thread?*
*Indeed on all fronts.*
*He's also part of the Yakuza, meaning he's an enforcer instead of an actual assassin. Odds are he'd crumble in a fight with someone of 7th level or higher.*
*Sweet, I usually like to keep my dudes at a lower level anyways. My dude is probably going to be around level 5. He’s also connected on some of my other characters.*
*My dude is level 5 as well, but he absolutely punches above his weight class, if you get what I mean.*
*I'll try and intro soon.*
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
May each word that I speak be backed by each of my teeth.
*I’m doing great! I think I have a decent concept for a character, trying to figure out the best way to intro her. How are you?*
*Same boat here! My guy is a Yakuza chef combining two classes: the Gourmet and the Hardcase. He's big and gentle and will throw you through a wall if you even try to hurt him or his customers. No assassin business in his dinky little sushi joint.*
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
May each word that I speak be backed by each of my teeth.
*I’m doing great! I think I have a decent concept for a character, trying to figure out the best way to intro her. How are you?*
*Same boat here! My guy is a Yakuza chef combining two classes: the Gourmet and the Hardcase. He's big and gentle and will throw you through a wall if you even try to hurt him or his customers. No assassin business in his dinky little sushi joint.*
*that sounds marvelous, I love it! Mine is a crime boss known for taking in orphans. Her power, which I’m calling, ‘when you’re good to Mama,’ basically means that others can form a magical bond with her, where they develop some power of their own, and in exchange, they magically protect her, and she can siphon their hitpoints for herself. Still working on the mechanics of it, so it’s not too powerful*
A large man is working at a small Robatayaki. He stands in front of the grill and cooks meat and seafood for anyone who wants any. Soup and bar food are also served, as well as drinks.
The man wears loose, casual white clothes and a bandanna on his head. He has tanned skin and gentle, soft eyes. The scars over his body are plentiful, and he's built for the brawl with lots of muscle and body fat. More for endurance than speed, and thus he likely carries less power with his strikes unless he goes all out, at which point he's left open for seconds at a time. A trained combatant could rip him to shreds in less than a minute.
He hums to himself as he serves his customers. A sign above the door reads "Please do Not Commit Crimes On the Premises. Thank You!"
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
May each word that I speak be backed by each of my teeth.
A large man is working at a small Robatayaki. He stands in front of the grill and cooks meat and seafood for anyone who wants any. Soup and bar food are also served, as well as drinks.
The man wears loose, casual white clothes and a bandanna on his head. He has tanned skin and gentle, soft eyes. The scars over his body are plentiful, and he's built for the brawl with lots of muscle and body fat. More for endurance than speed, and thus he likely carries less power with his strikes unless he goes all out, at which point he's left open for seconds at a time. A trained combatant could rip him to shreds in less than a minute.
He hums to himself as he serves his customers. A sign above the door reads "Please do Not Commit Crimes On the Premises. Thank You!"
Two people enter through the door. They are both quite tall, with long, well maintained black hair and dark clothing, mostly obscuring their faces. They seem to be young adults, and both seem to be unarmed. Following after them is a rather short woman with darker skin, wearing fine clothes and a few pieces of jewelry, most noticeably large hoop earrings and a wedding ring. Her hair is cut short and very curly, and she has a kind- if not a bit sinister smile. The two others, her bodyguards, perhaps, stand next to her as she surveys the place. He notices one of the people in the corner has also seen the woman and her two companions, a frightened expression on his face. He turns away, as if trying not to be noticed.
A large man is working at a small Robatayaki. He stands in front of the grill and cooks meat and seafood for anyone who wants any. Soup and bar food are also served, as well as drinks.
The man wears loose, casual white clothes and a bandanna on his head. He has tanned skin and gentle, soft eyes. The scars over his body are plentiful, and he's built for the brawl with lots of muscle and body fat. More for endurance than speed, and thus he likely carries less power with his strikes unless he goes all out, at which point he's left open for seconds at a time. A trained combatant could rip him to shreds in less than a minute.
He hums to himself as he serves his customers. A sign above the door reads "Please do Not Commit Crimes On the Premises. Thank You!"
The doorbell rings and rings and rings and rings. More than it should. For some reason, it seems to want to give extra warning for the latest person to enter the shop. A pink rubber gorilla mask with a wide open mouth that could be a wail or a snarl is pulled over his face. He wears a warm green long sleeved sweater regardless of the temperature outside which is tucked in at the waste of his white slacks. His hands are big and the ring finger on his left hand has been chopped to a short stub. A brown satchel is slung over his shoulder and some sort of green leaves are protruding from the bag.
"Dang," He speaks through the thick rubber mask, "Never to the frickin burn starve the darn flee."
A large man is working at a small Robatayaki. He stands in front of the grill and cooks meat and seafood for anyone who wants any. Soup and bar food are also served, as well as drinks.
The man wears loose, casual white clothes and a bandanna on his head. He has tanned skin and gentle, soft eyes. The scars over his body are plentiful, and he's built for the brawl with lots of muscle and body fat. More for endurance than speed, and thus he likely carries less power with his strikes unless he goes all out, at which point he's left open for seconds at a time. A trained combatant could rip him to shreds in less than a minute.
He hums to himself as he serves his customers. A sign above the door reads "Please do Not Commit Crimes On the Premises. Thank You!"
Two people enter through the door. They are both quite tall, with long, well maintained black hair and dark clothing, mostly obscuring their faces. They seem to be young adults, and both seem to be unarmed. Following after them is a rather short woman with darker skin, wearing fine clothes and a few pieces of jewelry, most noticeably large hoop earrings and a wedding ring. Her hair is cut short and very curly, and she has a kind- if not a bit sinister smile. The two others, her bodyguards, perhaps, stand next to her as she surveys the place. He notices one of the people in the corner has also seen the woman and her two companions, a frightened expression on his face. He turns away, as if trying not to be noticed.
He doesn't look up from his cooking for more than a few seconds. "Please, take some seats. I don't believe I've seen you around here before."
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
May each word that I speak be backed by each of my teeth.
A large man is working at a small Robatayaki. He stands in front of the grill and cooks meat and seafood for anyone who wants any. Soup and bar food are also served, as well as drinks.
The man wears loose, casual white clothes and a bandanna on his head. He has tanned skin and gentle, soft eyes. The scars over his body are plentiful, and he's built for the brawl with lots of muscle and body fat. More for endurance than speed, and thus he likely carries less power with his strikes unless he goes all out, at which point he's left open for seconds at a time. A trained combatant could rip him to shreds in less than a minute.
He hums to himself as he serves his customers. A sign above the door reads "Please do Not Commit Crimes On the Premises. Thank You!"
The doorbell rings and rings and rings and rings. More than it should. For some reason, it seems to want to give extra warning for the latest person to enter the shop. A pink rubber gorilla mask with a wide open mouth that could be a wail or a snarl is pulled over his face. He wears a warm green long sleeved sweater regardless of the temperature outside which is tucked in at the waste of his white slacks. His hands are big and the ring finger on his left hand has been chopped to a short stub. A brown satchel is slung over his shoulder and some sort of green leaves are protruding from the bag.
"Dang," He speaks through the thick rubber mask, "Never to the frickin burn starve the darn flee."
The chef looks up. "I'm sorry? I don't quite understand, but please, take a seat."
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
May each word that I speak be backed by each of my teeth.
A large man is working at a small Robatayaki. He stands in front of the grill and cooks meat and seafood for anyone who wants any. Soup and bar food are also served, as well as drinks.
The man wears loose, casual white clothes and a bandanna on his head. He has tanned skin and gentle, soft eyes. The scars over his body are plentiful, and he's built for the brawl with lots of muscle and body fat. More for endurance than speed, and thus he likely carries less power with his strikes unless he goes all out, at which point he's left open for seconds at a time. A trained combatant could rip him to shreds in less than a minute.
He hums to himself as he serves his customers. A sign above the door reads "Please do Not Commit Crimes On the Premises. Thank You!"
The doorbell rings and rings and rings and rings. More than it should. For some reason, it seems to want to give extra warning for the latest person to enter the shop. A pink rubber gorilla mask with a wide open mouth that could be a wail or a snarl is pulled over his face. He wears a warm green long sleeved sweater regardless of the temperature outside which is tucked in at the waste of his white slacks. His hands are big and the ring finger on his left hand has been chopped to a short stub. A brown satchel is slung over his shoulder and some sort of green leaves are protruding from the bag.
"Dang," He speaks through the thick rubber mask, "Never to the frickin burn starve the darn flee."
The chef looks up. "I'm sorry? I don't quite understand, but please, take a seat."
"Golly," He moves to an open seat and sits down. He grabs a salt shaker and sprinkles a small white mound of the particles into the palm of his hand. Then he pours this collection onto the table and begins pushing the flecks of salt about with a finger as if each had a specific place it was destined to exist in. "Heck no. Dagnabbit."
The chef looks up. "I'm sorry? I don't quite understand, but please, take a seat."
"Golly," He moves to an open seat and sits down. He grabs a salt shaker and sprinkles a small white mound of the particles into the palm of his hand. Then he pours this collection onto the table and begins pushing the flecks of salt about with a finger as if each had a specific place it was destined to exist in. "Heck no. Dagnabbit."
"Is there anything you would like to order, sir?" He asks, slightly nervous.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
May each word that I speak be backed by each of my teeth.
A large man is working at a small Robatayaki. He stands in front of the grill and cooks meat and seafood for anyone who wants any. Soup and bar food are also served, as well as drinks.
The man wears loose, casual white clothes and a bandanna on his head. He has tanned skin and gentle, soft eyes. The scars over his body are plentiful, and he's built for the brawl with lots of muscle and body fat. More for endurance than speed, and thus he likely carries less power with his strikes unless he goes all out, at which point he's left open for seconds at a time. A trained combatant could rip him to shreds in less than a minute.
He hums to himself as he serves his customers. A sign above the door reads "Please do Not Commit Crimes On the Premises. Thank You!"
Two people enter through the door. They are both quite tall, with long, well maintained black hair and dark clothing, mostly obscuring their faces. They seem to be young adults, and both seem to be unarmed. Following after them is a rather short woman with darker skin, wearing fine clothes and a few pieces of jewelry, most noticeably large hoop earrings and a wedding ring. Her hair is cut short and very curly, and she has a kind- if not a bit sinister smile. The two others, her bodyguards, perhaps, stand next to her as she surveys the place. He notices one of the people in the corner has also seen the woman and her two companions, a frightened expression on his face. He turns away, as if trying not to be noticed.
He doesn't look up from his cooking for more than a few seconds. "Please, take some seats. I don't believe I've seen you around here before."
She smiles slyly. “Fine establishment you have.” She takes a seat, along with one of her bodyguards.
the man in the corner gets up while the woman doesn’t seem to be paying attention, but the other of the woman’s companions stops him at the door and coaxes him to stay for a while… and have a chat with the finely dressed woman. He seems scared out of his mind, but he complies and sits next to the woman and her two bodyguards.
The chef looks up. "I'm sorry? I don't quite understand, but please, take a seat."
"Golly," He moves to an open seat and sits down. He grabs a salt shaker and sprinkles a small white mound of the particles into the palm of his hand. Then he pours this collection onto the table and begins pushing the flecks of salt about with a finger as if each had a specific place it was destined to exist in. "Heck no. Dagnabbit."
"Is there anything you would like to order, sir?" He asks, slightly nervous.
Terribly realistic plastic eyes set in the pink ape-face move from their task of salt sorting to your face. "Heck, sure in the tomb rock." A hand moves to the menu and a single finger taps a dish. He hasn't looked at what he appears to be ordering. "Sheesh."
He doesn't look up from his cooking for more than a few seconds. "Please, take some seats. I don't believe I've seen you around here before."
She smiles slyly. “Fine establishment you have.” She takes a seat, along with one of her bodyguards.
the man in the corner gets up while the woman doesn’t seem to be paying attention, but the other of the woman’s companions stops him at the door and coaxes him to stay for a while… and have a chat with the finely dressed woman. He seems scared out of his mind, but he complies and sits next to the woman and her two bodyguards.
He smiles. "Thank you very much. Does anything on the menu interest any of you?" He places a reassuring hand on the nervous man's shoulder.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
May each word that I speak be backed by each of my teeth.
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*It can definitely be hard to read at times. His writing style is so unique and poetic and all his characters were so interesting but the lack of real plot made it difficult. I had a deadline for when I had to return my copy which helped motivate me.*
*Nice! Is that for this thread?*
*Indeed on all fronts.*
*He's also part of the Yakuza, meaning he's an enforcer instead of an actual assassin. Odds are he'd crumble in a fight with someone of 7th level or higher.*
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
May each word that I speak be backed by each of my teeth.
*Sweet, I usually like to keep my dudes at a lower level anyways. My dude is probably going to be around level 5. He’s also connected on some of my other characters.*
*I have the basics of a character figured out, just need to find a fun way to intro them…*
*My dude is level 5 as well, but he absolutely punches above his weight class, if you get what I mean.*
*I'll try and intro soon.*
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
May each word that I speak be backed by each of my teeth.
*Hi, Baalz!*
*Hey, Arch! How's it?*
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
May each word that I speak be backed by each of my teeth.
*I’m doing great! I think I have a decent concept for a character, trying to figure out the best way to intro her. How are you?*
*Same boat here! My guy is a Yakuza chef combining two classes: the Gourmet and the Hardcase. He's big and gentle and will throw you through a wall if you even try to hurt him or his customers. No assassin business in his dinky little sushi joint.*
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
May each word that I speak be backed by each of my teeth.
*that sounds marvelous, I love it! Mine is a crime boss known for taking in orphans. Her power, which I’m calling, ‘when you’re good to Mama,’ basically means that others can form a magical bond with her, where they develop some power of their own, and in exchange, they magically protect her, and she can siphon their hitpoints for herself. Still working on the mechanics of it, so it’s not too powerful*
A large man is working at a small Robatayaki. He stands in front of the grill and cooks meat and seafood for anyone who wants any. Soup and bar food are also served, as well as drinks.
The man wears loose, casual white clothes and a bandanna on his head. He has tanned skin and gentle, soft eyes. The scars over his body are plentiful, and he's built for the brawl with lots of muscle and body fat. More for endurance than speed, and thus he likely carries less power with his strikes unless he goes all out, at which point he's left open for seconds at a time. A trained combatant could rip him to shreds in less than a minute.
He hums to himself as he serves his customers. A sign above the door reads "Please do Not Commit Crimes On the Premises. Thank You!"
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
May each word that I speak be backed by each of my teeth.
Two people enter through the door. They are both quite tall, with long, well maintained black hair and dark clothing, mostly obscuring their faces. They seem to be young adults, and both seem to be unarmed. Following after them is a rather short woman with darker skin, wearing fine clothes and a few pieces of jewelry, most noticeably large hoop earrings and a wedding ring. Her hair is cut short and very curly, and she has a kind- if not a bit sinister smile. The two others, her bodyguards, perhaps, stand next to her as she surveys the place. He notices one of the people in the corner has also seen the woman and her two companions, a frightened expression on his face. He turns away, as if trying not to be noticed.
The doorbell rings and rings and rings and rings. More than it should. For some reason, it seems to want to give extra warning for the latest person to enter the shop. A pink rubber gorilla mask with a wide open mouth that could be a wail or a snarl is pulled over his face. He wears a warm green long sleeved sweater regardless of the temperature outside which is tucked in at the waste of his white slacks. His hands are big and the ring finger on his left hand has been chopped to a short stub. A brown satchel is slung over his shoulder and some sort of green leaves are protruding from the bag.
"Dang," He speaks through the thick rubber mask, "Never to the frickin burn starve the darn flee."
He doesn't look up from his cooking for more than a few seconds. "Please, take some seats. I don't believe I've seen you around here before."
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
May each word that I speak be backed by each of my teeth.
The chef looks up. "I'm sorry? I don't quite understand, but please, take a seat."
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
May each word that I speak be backed by each of my teeth.
"Golly," He moves to an open seat and sits down. He grabs a salt shaker and sprinkles a small white mound of the particles into the palm of his hand. Then he pours this collection onto the table and begins pushing the flecks of salt about with a finger as if each had a specific place it was destined to exist in. "Heck no. Dagnabbit."
"Is there anything you would like to order, sir?" He asks, slightly nervous.
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
May each word that I speak be backed by each of my teeth.
She smiles slyly. “Fine establishment you have.” She takes a seat, along with one of her bodyguards.
the man in the corner gets up while the woman doesn’t seem to be paying attention, but the other of the woman’s companions stops him at the door and coaxes him to stay for a while… and have a chat with the finely dressed woman. He seems scared out of his mind, but he complies and sits next to the woman and her two bodyguards.
Terribly realistic plastic eyes set in the pink ape-face move from their task of salt sorting to your face. "Heck, sure in the tomb rock." A hand moves to the menu and a single finger taps a dish. He hasn't looked at what he appears to be ordering. "Sheesh."
He smiles. "Thank you very much. Does anything on the menu interest any of you?" He places a reassuring hand on the nervous man's shoulder.
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
May each word that I speak be backed by each of my teeth.