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agentmanatee Member
Servant of chaos
STATUS: The Hateful eight has me inspired, whose ready for a western RP? 10 yrs ago
- Last Seen: 2 mos ago
- Joined: 11 yrs ago
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- agentmanatee 11 yrs ago
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10 yrs ago
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The Hateful eight has me inspired, whose ready for a western RP?
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10 yrs ago
BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD! SKULLS FOR THE SKULL THRONE! WHEN THE GALAXY BURNS, WE WILL DEFINE RIGHTEOUSNESS!
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10 yrs ago
[i]BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD! SKULLS FOR THE SKULL THRONE! WHEN THE GALAXY BURNS, WE WILL DEFINE RIGHTEOUSNESS![/i]
10 yrs ago
BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD! SKULLS FOR THE SKULL THRONE!
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Most Recent Posts
So how long till the ic is up
The spectre stared at the man, no breath escaping his cold, dead lips. Slowly he lowered his blade, allowing it to rest on the ground, though his right hand still gripped the hilt. Staring at the man before him... wondering what to do... to stay silent would invite suspicion... or worse, they may attack him if he did not voice his intention. However... the veil made the dilemma more confusing... if he spoke the man would hear the revenants words as vile lies... but... perhaps one among the group did not register the veil... he knew such people existed... and it was better to appear to lie than to remain mute. So... with a rasping, gasping tune he began to speak. It came in clipped, monotonous tone, as if the ghostly apparition had not moved whatever passed for a tounge in a very, very long time.
"I...will... no... not attack..." It would seem as though speaking was more difficult for the spectre than fighting, "You... carry... a relic... it's soul... I see.... an... and feel... it... I... see... seek the relics. You... are... their... their... leige lord... are you not?" This last comment a direct question for the man before him, "wh... Who..." a coughing wheeze escaped the spectre's mouth, it sounded as if dust should have come out with it, "who... is... the... the one... wreathed in... red?"
"I...will... no... not attack..." It would seem as though speaking was more difficult for the spectre than fighting, "You... carry... a relic... it's soul... I see.... an... and feel... it... I... see... seek the relics. You... are... their... their... leige lord... are you not?" This last comment a direct question for the man before him, "wh... Who..." a coughing wheeze escaped the spectre's mouth, it sounded as if dust should have come out with it, "who... is... the... the one... wreathed in... red?"
There it was... the power... the spectre was certain of it now... a relic. He felt someone's soul empowered by it, but also the relics own soul. The powerful fragment of a legendary hero... dead like him... he saw it surge along with the blades at the plummeting dragon. These people... they had one... and the one they had sparked something in him. The spectre had long forgotten why exactly he sought the legend relics, only that he sought them. As he watched the blades and it's soul a vestigial, ancient memory blinded him. He was suddenly surrounded by screams... knee deep in gore and viscera... it was jarring.
Suddenly he was returned to the moment at hand, a dragon rapidly falling towards him. He broke into his fastest run, quickly shambling away. However he didn't get quite far enough and when the beast... and the Crimson woman who... made the spectre feel some strange memory or... something, crashed to the ground he was flung from his heavy feat, landing hard on the ground. As the dust settled, he hoped the beast was finally dead, for he wished to know what the rapidly increasing number of living humans would do to the spectre... the ghost... the old dead one in their midst. He kept his sword arm tensed... just in case.
Suddenly he was returned to the moment at hand, a dragon rapidly falling towards him. He broke into his fastest run, quickly shambling away. However he didn't get quite far enough and when the beast... and the Crimson woman who... made the spectre feel some strange memory or... something, crashed to the ground he was flung from his heavy feat, landing hard on the ground. As the dust settled, he hoped the beast was finally dead, for he wished to know what the rapidly increasing number of living humans would do to the spectre... the ghost... the old dead one in their midst. He kept his sword arm tensed... just in case.
Yea so you know... just getting directly attacked by a dragon here... no hurry... haha
The new man now at his side addressed him the way his old leige lord had... Who has he been... it didn't matter for, even with the new attack from above the dragon charged at him and the cursed swordsman, and without even a nod or indication the swordsman had even heard the man, he broke right as he had been asked to. His slow, heavy run made him an easy target to track, so did his size and the presence of his ghostly soul, and the dragon broke for him.
Barely keeping out of the creatures gaping maw the spectre slashed across its face with his rotting blade, cutting a small furrow in its horn and soul. It grew anary and closes what little distance was between the two, smashing into the swordsman with his horn and knocking him back to the ground after a small summersault. He picked himself up with his blade, and hoped the plan if the strange man would work... he had said crimson... was that the small woman in red? He had a strange feeling about her... as if she were known to him or... surely though it was just some vestigial memory... but he could not be certain
Barely keeping out of the creatures gaping maw the spectre slashed across its face with his rotting blade, cutting a small furrow in its horn and soul. It grew anary and closes what little distance was between the two, smashing into the swordsman with his horn and knocking him back to the ground after a small summersault. He picked himself up with his blade, and hoped the plan if the strange man would work... he had said crimson... was that the small woman in red? He had a strange feeling about her... as if she were known to him or... surely though it was just some vestigial memory... but he could not be certain
Sorry if his surviving a fire blast seemed god modyish... I edited my character sheet a bit to give an explanation
The cursed man saw them... heard their shouting voices. The dragon had landed in the midst of what appeared to be some sort of group. He could not count for he was unsure he had seen them all, but at least two were visible. One was draped in the color of blood, and was quick and appeared lithe, the other he saw wore cloth of darker hues, blue and purple, both were small to him, and both felt of magic... Though the red only slightly so. Their spirits though, they were something else, each a powerful soul, with purpose well known... they were no mere wanderers... Though the blades in the red ones hands told him as much. But it mattered little... as soon as the beast was slain they would run... or more likely fight the ghostly form of the knight... and again he would be forced to slay or retreat... bug another power was felt. One he knew... but knew not how he knew of it... or what part of him knew of it, though it was there... and it was very powerful.
That was to be dealt with later, for now the dragon bared it's teeth and fire flew from its maw. The swordsman charged, his form pierced with arrows to ancient to ponder and broken blades rusting and rotting, trundled up to the beast in a slow, heavy run. As he closed the spectre hefted his great sword with his one arm, bringing it down across the dragons leg as its attention was pulled elsewhere. The beast roared as again it's soul felt cut, and it batted the offending party away with its clawed foot. The spectre flew a short distance, to heavier than his size could portray... the wait of his sins dragging him back to the ground. He stood as a gout of flame washed over him... but as it cleared it had served only to bring him to his knee, as his spirit weathered the blaze his physical form could not...
That was to be dealt with later, for now the dragon bared it's teeth and fire flew from its maw. The swordsman charged, his form pierced with arrows to ancient to ponder and broken blades rusting and rotting, trundled up to the beast in a slow, heavy run. As he closed the spectre hefted his great sword with his one arm, bringing it down across the dragons leg as its attention was pulled elsewhere. The beast roared as again it's soul felt cut, and it batted the offending party away with its clawed foot. The spectre flew a short distance, to heavier than his size could portray... the wait of his sins dragging him back to the ground. He stood as a gout of flame washed over him... but as it cleared it had served only to bring him to his knee, as his spirit weathered the blaze his physical form could not...
Appearance:
Height:6'2 (if he stood up straight) 5'9 in appearance
Weight:237 lb.
Hair color:Black
Eye color:Red
Name:The cursed swordsman (Gilligan to those who ask for a name)
Age:?
History:Though not a well known tale, there have long been rumours of a terrible specter in the west of the Imperium. Tales of a knight, hunched in rusting armor and draped in a tattered and dirty white cloak, haunts the Rivenwood. Rumors and speculation abound the mysterious specter, some say he is a demon, sent to harass the good and innocent, others claim he is a spirit of vengeance sent to punish the guilty and cruel, others say he is the ghost of a traitorous knight, who must atone for his sins with an eternity to wander the lands. This last one, is closest to the truth.
Now he searches for the legend relics... for perhaps they can ease his suffering
Personality:Gilligan is solemn and somber, an eternity of wandering has jaded him, and he seeks only salvation now. His mind has begun to fade... slowly with old memories gone or growing fuzzy in his mind, his solitude becoming his undoing. Though largely quiet, he can become a steadfast ally and friend... Despite his curse
Weapons
Rotted great sword
A truly ancient blade, which appears to be dull and worthless. In spite of its appearance the blade is very dangerous, reathed in dark ether, its dark energy affects more than just the physical being and can even cleave the soul in twain
Abilities (Magic)
Spectral gaze:A cold, dead stare, with the power of the grave behind it. The weak willed are paralyzed with fear, or run from his terrible visage, even those with strong minds become deeply disturbed.
Penitent spectre:Gilligan exist in both the physical world as well as the invisible realm of spirits, both of which he observes in tandem. This means that physical attacks as well as any magic or attacks from spirits effect him. However, it also means he can likewise interact with incorporeal beings just as he would a physical person. As well, attacks on either side of the spectrum injure him less as well, for he exists wholly in neither realm, allowing his seemingly physical body and meta-physical spirit to weather far more punishment than others.
Strength of the dead:Far stronger than the average human, as this mortal coil no longer contains his strength. Also, for a short time he can will his limbs to move faster, overcoming his normally slow and clumsy gait, however temporary the ability is.
Life hunt:His most powerful magical ability, this intensely draining and difficult power allows Gilligan to drain power from his targets soul, to temporarily boost his own abilities while weakening his opponent. He can only hold onto to the power for as long as he can will it to remain tethered to his own soul, after which the energy dissipates into the void.
Other
Veil of the curse
This invisible magical force is a primary effect of his curse. It intercepts any words the cursed man speaks and tinges them with the vile sound of lies and treachery. This leads virtually all people to distrust him, all but a few. Oddly, a small number of people do not perceive the veil, and here the poor man's words for how he truly intended them. Rather than a vile traitorous ghost these people see the proud, and remorseful knight underneath the curse... a man simply trying to atone for his sins. These people are rare though, and none are sure of why they do not perceive the veil.
The cursed wound
Gilligan's left arm hangs, shattered and useless under his tattered cloak until it is disturbed. Broken when he was cursed, the wound can never heal, and the bones shall never set. However, through titanic effort, he can force the arm to move (it is the arm he must use for life drain, contributing to the abilities difficulty) with his ghostly soul. For most of tge time however, it hangs, hidden and broken, like the Knights on pain and pride
Height:6'2 (if he stood up straight) 5'9 in appearance
Weight:237 lb.
Hair color:Black
Eye color:Red
Name:The cursed swordsman (Gilligan to those who ask for a name)
Age:?
History:Though not a well known tale, there have long been rumours of a terrible specter in the west of the Imperium. Tales of a knight, hunched in rusting armor and draped in a tattered and dirty white cloak, haunts the Rivenwood. Rumors and speculation abound the mysterious specter, some say he is a demon, sent to harass the good and innocent, others claim he is a spirit of vengeance sent to punish the guilty and cruel, others say he is the ghost of a traitorous knight, who must atone for his sins with an eternity to wander the lands. This last one, is closest to the truth.
Now he searches for the legend relics... for perhaps they can ease his suffering
Personality:Gilligan is solemn and somber, an eternity of wandering has jaded him, and he seeks only salvation now. His mind has begun to fade... slowly with old memories gone or growing fuzzy in his mind, his solitude becoming his undoing. Though largely quiet, he can become a steadfast ally and friend... Despite his curse
Weapons
Rotted great sword
A truly ancient blade, which appears to be dull and worthless. In spite of its appearance the blade is very dangerous, reathed in dark ether, its dark energy affects more than just the physical being and can even cleave the soul in twain
Abilities (Magic)
Spectral gaze:A cold, dead stare, with the power of the grave behind it. The weak willed are paralyzed with fear, or run from his terrible visage, even those with strong minds become deeply disturbed.
Penitent spectre:Gilligan exist in both the physical world as well as the invisible realm of spirits, both of which he observes in tandem. This means that physical attacks as well as any magic or attacks from spirits effect him. However, it also means he can likewise interact with incorporeal beings just as he would a physical person. As well, attacks on either side of the spectrum injure him less as well, for he exists wholly in neither realm, allowing his seemingly physical body and meta-physical spirit to weather far more punishment than others.
Strength of the dead:Far stronger than the average human, as this mortal coil no longer contains his strength. Also, for a short time he can will his limbs to move faster, overcoming his normally slow and clumsy gait, however temporary the ability is.
Life hunt:His most powerful magical ability, this intensely draining and difficult power allows Gilligan to drain power from his targets soul, to temporarily boost his own abilities while weakening his opponent. He can only hold onto to the power for as long as he can will it to remain tethered to his own soul, after which the energy dissipates into the void.
Other
Veil of the curse
This invisible magical force is a primary effect of his curse. It intercepts any words the cursed man speaks and tinges them with the vile sound of lies and treachery. This leads virtually all people to distrust him, all but a few. Oddly, a small number of people do not perceive the veil, and here the poor man's words for how he truly intended them. Rather than a vile traitorous ghost these people see the proud, and remorseful knight underneath the curse... a man simply trying to atone for his sins. These people are rare though, and none are sure of why they do not perceive the veil.
The cursed wound
Gilligan's left arm hangs, shattered and useless under his tattered cloak until it is disturbed. Broken when he was cursed, the wound can never heal, and the bones shall never set. However, through titanic effort, he can force the arm to move (it is the arm he must use for life drain, contributing to the abilities difficulty) with his ghostly soul. For most of tge time however, it hangs, hidden and broken, like the Knights on pain and pride
Hooray I posted!!
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