BCTheEntity

One Piece: Revolution(Closed)

@Renny Sounds like a plan to me, and it'd fit well in his mind as a good starting point for him to fulfil his Divine Purpose. I'll put him in as the first mate, then, and edit his history accordingly when I can.

One Piece: Revolution(Closed)

@Ira Done, and I've added a Bounty of 50000 Beli to him and moved Tough Nut and Stealth to his Abilities section.

@Renny So far, it looks like Dirk's choices are the Sunny Massacre Pirates and the Red Hood Pirates. I think he'd be rather more likely to stick with the crew whose captain isn't violently murderous toward his crew members for no reason, if they both happened to come across him simultaneously. What position do you think he'd be likely to take in Bogard's crew, if any position of importance was given to him?

One Piece: Revolution(Closed)

@Ira To be fair, he was stealthy about both of those. But yes, I do get what you're saying, and will edit accordingly. I am also aware that we need to discuss the Devil Fruit itself; do you mind if I discuss my possible ideas for it via PM?

One Piece: Revolution(Closed)

Well, I had the intention of joining another One Piece RP recently, but that appears to be dead. So instead, let's do some conversion!

Dirk Messir

Name: Dirk Messir

Appearance:


Height/Weight: 190 cm (6' 3"), 63 kg (139 lbs)

Age: 22

Personality: The primary facet of Dirk's personality is that he's... not quite right in the head. A lifetime of abuse has left him somewhat unstable - whilst he may tend toward intense stares and quiet whispers in public, and polite, reserved, even meek behaviour around those he considers his superiors, the mildest of provocation can set off a barrage of verbal slander against whoever has incited it, and even his thought patterns are somewhat warped, leading him to believe strange things and act in manners which, whilst not strictly unpredictable for those who know him well, are nevertheless absurd to behold. Most notably, he believes that he exists to fulfill some form of Divine Purpose, the exact specifics of which have yet to be realised by him, but he's quite sure he'll be able to figure it out soon now he's got some free time to do so.

That said, he does hold two truths of a more rational nature close to his heart: he misses his family, and he despises slavers, in particular the World Government officials who held him captive for the past several years. However, he avoids and almost fears direct conflict, having had the notion that resistance is useless beaten into him repeatedly, and so will not pursue either of these unless he can do so in a relatively safe manner, under which circumstances he will likely attempt to do so heedless of any pre-existing plans unless a very good reason why he shouldn't presents itself. Extrapolating from these, he also holds the bonds between family members to be sacred, and finds himself sickened at even the thought of their twisting for indecent purposes, such as parents abusing their children, or indeed of being broken entirely through separation of otherwise healthy relationships; it therefore stands that, in his mind, selling a child into slavery away from their parents is the most disgusting thing a person can do above all else, and he has decided in advance that if he ever finds somebody who does this, he will not rest until they lie dead at his feet, no matter how many people he has to sneak around to get to them.

Home Island/Sea: Loguetown, Polestar Islands

History

Dirk was born into slavery. It has been his whole life, and indeed his parent's lives too, and so in a way, it shaped his being before he was even born. Whilst his parents were kind enough, and their master not needlessly cruel, there was rarely time for Dirk to interact with his family growing up between the demands brought upon them and the dressing of wounds granted to them as the punishment for failure, and so he found himself cherishing every moment he had with them even as the lack thereof affected his development, especially once a baby sister was born to them five years after his own birth. By the age of seven, he was considered old enough to start working alongside the few other child slaves in his master's employ... and yet, for some reason, he was never put to work in this manner. Indeed, whenever he tried to join his fellows, the guards in his owner's employ deliberately stopped him from doing so, citing that he had another purpose than whatever the other slaves did; this, combined with later events, shaped a personal belief that he was in some way divinely blessed, and that he was intended to fulfill some great task that only he was capable of.

In fact, the "purpose" the guards spoke of was something else entirely. At the age of ten, he was abruptly wrenched from his family's arms, screaming and crying the whole time, and sold off to a new master, who he would later learn was a moderately high-level official in the World Government - nothing like one of the fabled Celestial Dragons, but as horrifically callous as them nonetheless, and certainly far more awful than his previous master, particularly in combination with the spiteful actions of the man's other family members whenever they laid eyes upon him, though Dirk knew not the reason for their particular disgust of him. He was isolated from others for days at a time, subjected to brutal treatments intended to shape him in ways that would make him absolutely subservient to his "divine father", and for the slightest deviation from protocol- generally in the form of yet another attempt to hide from his captors and escape the horrors he was subjected to- he would be placed into an arena with an expert in the Six Styles, whom Dirk only ever knew as "The Battler". The Battler would promptly injure Dirk in a myriad of ways, generally leaving him unconscious or even near the point of death, before some other slave was dragged in and, through means Dirk remains unsure of to this day, forced to somehow grow out and use her own flesh to seamlessly knit together his, leaving it as unmarked as the day he was born. Naturally, this was a far more traumatic period in his life than his early childhood had been, and the brainwashing he was put through was instrumental in warping his mind to its current state.

The intended result, however, was not achieved. When he was twenty two, Dirk was called into his owner's bedchambers, and told that his true purpose was to act as a pleasure slave for the government official, having supposedly been moulded to possess a boyish, yet feminine charm about his person, both in physique and in mannerisms, or so the man claimed. Being uneducated in the ways of any sort of sexuality, Dirk wasn't actually sure what any of that meant; it became far more clear when the patriarch ordered Dirk to strip and get on the bed, and clearer still when he attempted to strip the boy himself after a confused refusal to comply. Dirk fought back with poor bastardisations of the very techniques he had been subjected by the Battler to over the years, and though they were ineffective by comparison, they did enough to knock his owner down on to one of his own fallen gold ornaments, cracking the official's skull open, and promptly causing him to expire.

At first, Dirk was ecstatic about this turn of events. Finally, he was free to do as he would! Or so he thought, until it occurred to him that maybe ownership would just pass on to the patriarch's next of kin, and that given how spiteful they were to him usually, they might well just have him murdered for this turn of events. And that wouldn't do. He had a Divine Purpose to fulfill, after all. With this in mind, Dirk fled the room, finding his way through the halls of the building, and for the first time managed to do so almost seamlessly, his escape aided by the capacity for stealth he had unwittingly honed over countless escape attempts, as well as a coincidental ruckus on the other side of the building caused by the Battler over a sudden loss of employment now that Dirk was "fully trained".

The ex-slave's pathfinding skills were not so well-honed, though, and after a series of bad turns, he found himself trapped, hiding in a room near his ex-master's son and a travelling merchant, selling a strange spiral-covered fruit, bright yellow-grey and shaped like a strawberry, that supposedly granted its consumer incredible power, but spoke to Dirk specifically of extreme wealth: previously the son's, now the merchant's, and, if Dirk could snatch the fruit and sell it on himself, soon to be his. The purchase was concluded, and the buyer foolishly declined to eat the fruit immediately, instead taking it to a nearby kitchen and leaving it covered up for later consumption. Dirk tailed him from the shadows, squirreled away the fruit and a sharp kitchen knife at his first opportunity to do so without being caught, and tried once again to find his way out.

This time, he succeeded. He soon found himself outside his owner's mansion for the first time in twelve years, and made his way to nearby Loguetown with nothing more than rags on his back, a comparatively pitiful weapon in his hands, and a seemingly-priceless Devil Fruit hidden within his clothing; luck led him to a nearby clothing store, and the owner, after figuring out roughly what Dirk's story was, commiserated with him about his past and the heedless ruin that the World Government brought to those like Dirk, before giving him free pick of a few items in his store, plus the advice that perhaps the Devil Fruit in his possession shouldn't be shown off freely, and that maybe he should leave Loguetown as soon as possible if he wanted to continue enjoying his stint as a free man. Which brings us to current events...

Fruit: No powers of his own, though he does have a Devil Fruit of an unknown sort in his possession.

Abilities/Racial Traits:
Tough Nut - Many years of torture and physical shaping over time have left Dirk somewhat more difficult to harm than might be expected, and insensitive to pain regardless, meaning he is unlikely to care very much about blunt force blows unless they deal significant damage. That said, he does not possess the muscle to go along with his toughness, being less capable of injuring people very well than one might anticipate even for having been a slave.
Stealth - In stark contrast to his lacking martial skill, Dirk is shockingly capable of disappearing when he wishes to, being more than capable of maneuvering around trained guards, dissolving into crowds, and sneaking up on people without their noticing. Most impressively, he seems to perform these feats almost by instinct, and yet he tends to disavow any claims that he is actually good at stealth, instead suggesting that his Divine Purpose is what has kept him alive and well in that sort of situation.

Fighting Style:
Having been subjected to the Six Styles martial art across the span of his enslavement, Dirk claims to now be a master at it. In truth, he knows of the techniques, but not how they're actually done, nor does he presently have the sort of mindset needed to train for them on account of his long history of being stepped upon; thus, most of his "techniques" are just normal things humans can do, like punching, kicking, dodging, climbing things, and cheap shots where he can get them in. Indeed, he desperately avoids having to resort to direct combat unless he can't help it, and even then prefers to try and use others as meatshields until he can slip behind a target and backstab them with his kitchen knife if at all possible.
Kami-E - Surprisingly, Dirk is capable of actually utilising one aspect of Rokushiki effectively: Kami-E is intended to make the user's body go limp, and thus avoid attacks instinctively, like a piece of paper in the wind, and Dirk has unexpectedly succeeded in honing this technique to help him avoid the Battler's attacks, amongst other forms of torture over the years. Combined with his physical resilience, he becomes surprisingly difficult to put down in the rare situations where he is actually forced to engage in a fair fight.

Ship Positions: First Mate of the Red-Hood Pirates

Bounty: 0 Beli, though given his recent actions, that's liable to change in short order.

Underlake: An Othertale

@Major Ursa Skylar, Rodney, and Eeeeeeeeeeee are just leaving the cave Skylar and Rodney woke up in, with Eeeeeeeeeeee acting as a guide of sorts. I assume Skylar is leaving with Rodney and Eeeeeeeeeeee, anyway, but @Guardian Angel Haruki doesn't seem to have posted since my last post. You still there, Haru?

Underlake: An Othertale

I'd also say no magic watch. Given the Undertale setting itself and its distinct lack of explicitly magical items, that seems almost like a given. Soul abilities should be more than sufficient. Speaking of which...

@Major Ursa I believe you also made the executive decision that Blue SOULs are the only SOUL type, other than Red, which retain memories from a reset run, and that two non-Red SOULs can combine their determination to effect a reset if absolutely necessary. Also, regarding my prior suggestions about Orange and Cyan SOULs, I'd like to suggest a couple of changes to those.

First of all, both SOUL types ought to be completely immune to being struck by either Orange or Cyan attacks, since they're automatically immune to their specific attack type anyway, and completely incapable of dealing with the other (Orange can't avoid Cyan, Cyan can't avoid Orange). This evidently wouldn't apply when the modes are forced upon a SOUL, since we can assume most monsters wouldn't subsequently utilise attacks that the SOUL Mode in question cannot dodge, e.g. screen-wide cyan bones against an Orange SOUL.

Secondly, whilst the Orange SOUL/Rocket Mode should remain similar to what I suggested - moves constantly in one of four cardinal directions with no ability to stop - the Cyan SOUL/Patience Mode ought to work a little bit differently, since awkwardly moving the battle area around itself to dodge attacks struck me as just a more clunky form of the Red SOUL's movement capabilities from the get-go. Instead, it should only have limited movement within a small area at the center of the screen, but with the capacity to emit a "bubble" of sorts, which gradually grows as the user wants it to and shrinks once it either reaches a maximum size or the user stops making it grow, blocking and destroying attacks whilst it's moving outward, but leaving the SOUL vulnerable whilst shrinking until it returns to the SOUL proper. This would therefore reward well-planned, i.e. patient, use of the ability, since being rash about expanding the bubble could leave you open to a large number of hits from attacks before it returns to you.

And of course, I maintain that other SOUL Modes should be left as-is, no additions necessary, save the already-determined changes to Blue SOULs remembering stuff from resets and two non-Red SOULs combining to effect a reset if necessary.

Let sleeping dogs lie.

"You've underpaid me."

"What? No I 'aven't, it's all there, see? Thought you lot 'ad good eyesight or summat."

"We do, and I can see that you've underpaid by several shillings."

"Psh, nooo... you, er... you forgot about the ear tax."

"...is that how this is going to go, then? The most cliched reason for not paying an elf their fair due in the book."

"Look 'ere, you... elf! I didn't ask you to clear out those rats from the sewers-"

"You actually specifically asked me to help you, for lack of any other adventurers. You specifically stated that my payment would be two gold crowns, a nomination which has been lessened by nearly a quarter."

"Yeah, I mean... i's not like you did all tha' much anyway!"

"And it turned out that the rats were... beastmen, of a sort, making my job much harder than you claimed it would be. Your town would have been wiped from the face of the Empire if I hadn't been present."

"Sure, sure. Rat beastmen, 'onestly... prob'ly just larger buggers than usual, is all."

"And you think you could have dealt with them."

"I mean, rats aren't so tough. If'n I can deal with your skinny be'ind any day o' the week, I'm sure some overgrown vermin would be easy!"

"And are you willing to back up that statement?"

"What?"

"You insinuated that you would best me in a fight, in spite of your acquisition of my talents for the task of rat slaying. Are you willing to support that sentiment?"

"...er. Erm."

"You know, I believe the dwarves have a saying- or is it ogres?- that roughly translates to "either put up or shut up". That is to say, don't make claims you can't support. So, will I receive my full payment, or must I further prove that I'm worth the money to you?"

"Well, y'see... tha' is to say... I... uhh... uhhh... oh for Sigmar's sake, fine! 'ere's the other eight shillings. But I want you out o' 'ere by sundown, an' I don' wanna see your mug again after tha'!"

"I had no intention of staying much longer anyway. Glad I could be of service, innkeeper."

"...hmm. Interesting. Daring adventurers and sellswords, food and pay for simply presenting myself... afeared of death need not... I believe that'll be my next stop, then."

---

One expects a horse to create sound as it travels. The sound a creature makes whilst moving is, after all, a major facet of flesh and blood entities, in the described case that of hooves against whatever surface is being traversed. Not so the case for a magical, transient version of the creature - the Steed of Shadows, that a fair few Grey Wizards have found themselves capable of producing, makes very little sound of its own, for its feet are not of a substance that is well-known for being particularly loud.

Thus, it happened to be the case that Baecion's approach to the castle Guilamuero was rather quieter than one would expect. Enough so, in fact, that he successfully moved within a hundred meters of the keep without being noticed (though the audience of maybe two persons had other things to focus on), before dismounting his steed and allowing it to dissipate into the night; the final stretch was traversed on foot, the wizard remaining in the shadows just in case he was in the wrong place. Judging by the state of the building, he doubted it - from local gossip, he knew the Lord Trantio was short on funds, shorter on fortune, and completely brassic when it came to sanity, or so Tilea's peasantry would have him believe. Even so, he couldn't help but mull over a wry comment about how Athel Loren probably had better craftsmanship than that fortress. He was sure his allies would have appreciated it, were they still alive.

As he drew close, he espied a woman who was quite classically beautiful, for a human at least, turning and re-entering the building, followed shortly by a man in half-plate. Refraining from introducing himself for the time being just in case they did not mean well, Baecion shadowed their movement (not as well as he would have cared to, but they didn't seem to be paying attention to him anyway) through the castle's halls, until such time as they approached the main hall itself; here, the woman leaned up against an entrance column briefly, describing the tools she and the others in the room would require for what sounded like a kidnapping (So it's that sort of expedition, is it?), as well as a mention of a goblin (Oh dear.), before striding into the room proper, muffling the rest of what she said from Baecion's perception.

As she continued to talk, the elf quietly slipped into the hall, taking a seat at the great table fairly close to the surprisingly plentiful feast, but away from what appeared to be a stain of gore across a rather wide area, acquiring choice morsels from the platters near him for his own plate as they caught his fancy. He didn't at this point make any effort to remain concealed, though he still wasn't necessarily keen on introducing himself immediately, being that present company included a dwarf with a missing hand, an exceptionally large and mean-looking human, and of all things a goblin. He was quite sure the corpse in the corner had been a greenskin of some sort, too, and wondered about how likely it was for yet another unsavoury face to turn up after himself.

Let sleeping dogs lie.

@Maxwell I certainly like that idea. The party probably needs more big tanky fellas.

Let sleeping dogs lie.

@Maxwell I think it's safe to assume we probably are, since at least one player has dropped out of the game prior to your asking.

Let sleeping dogs lie.

I finally posted my thing. Prepare for Elf shenanigans, folks.