Blizz

TENEBRAE: The Rebellion of Shadows (Ladies Only)

Just out of curiosity, would it be okay if I made a "no girls allowed" RP in the public forum? If this is "ladies only", surely the opposite type would be equally permissible. I don't mean to be confrontational, I've just never heard of the concept outside of one-on-one RPs on this forum.

@Aristocles

Delbrook Academy High School

Molly West

---

Pun dulce...conchas...honestly, Molly was hung up on every word that came out of Monse's soft, immaculate face. It had been weeks since these two girls had laid eyes on each other in person. Molly was absolutely enamored by Monse. Their hands wrapped together as they strutted down the Day One Shabam as Molly put it. "Shit, babe, you gotta eat. Did your mom give you a hard time about it? Ah, don't worry, let's get you something good. There's usually some alright funnel cake around here each year, I have some water I can run in and get. Ooh, wait, I saw something on the school's Headbook that they'd have ice cream out here- the good kind, the one with the chocolate in the middle. I fuckin' love that stuff. I got cash, I'll get it if you want babe, we can- Shit, where was it?" Molly felt visibly giddy with Monse's arm wrapped around her, she was usually chill and cool, like the usually "cool kid" attitude, but now that she's been reunited with the love of her life, her lady of the night, her queen, She struggled to contain herself.

All the while, Molly had a cute, sappy smile on her face as if they were on a date and not at school. Really, any day felt like a date to Molly when she was in the general vicinity of her girl. Enough gushing, she thought. "C'mon. Let's find something to eat, babe." She said after a long, huge slurp of her coffee. Maybe this year wouldn't be so bad after all.

---

_@Pyxis

TENEBRAE: The Rebellion of Shadows (Ladies Only)

Ellie and Rainsinger

The gate came crashing down like a stack of boxes.

Pieces of metal flew off in various directions as the warm glow of Ellie’s foot faded, the gates flew open with the loudest sound since a dead man’s rampage. As it echoed all throughout the halls, they all marched forward. They found themselves above a pit of choking heat. Rainsinger stared down into the earth, Ellie searched around them.

”That’s what’s powering this place. Geothermal.”

”Feel like I’m being boiled in here.”

”Yeah- no kidding.” Said Rainsinger, the one not wearing a leather jacket underground. ”They put down a gate that big for this? That don't square.”

”Yeah, well, we gotta move. They’re behind us, and we’re at a dead end. I think we can jump on those, and find a way at the-.”

”Shh!” Linus craned his head towards, he could hear the sound of whirring, as bits of concrete fell from the ceiling. It was quiet in comparison, but it was noticeable. Eventually, they could all hear a loud thump as the grand prize itself just fell before them all by sheer luck. A glittering cube, a matrix of unprecedented metaphysical ability, said to have the ability to store meta powers within like a battery. The one, the myth, the legend. The heart.

It was housed in a glass canister, at least it looked to be glass. Something falling that far and hard couldn’t be housed in just ordinary glass. ”Is that…?”

”It’s gotta be. Grab it an-“ They weren’t alone. Ropes began to drop, they were about to be confronted. That was before the smoke bomb fell next to it. Ellie’s eyes darted to it, and Rainsinger leaped for the heart. The smoke bomb exploded in his face, as he started coughing profusely.

”Shit…here!” Linus managed between hacking as he shoved the heart across the floor before picking himself up and stumbling out. It landed by the gate, between Ellie and Dream. ”We’re pinned.” He finished as he composed himself, dropping his knees slightly into a more defensive and ready stance.

Ellie picked up the heart, on its own, it was small, but the contained made it noticeably larger. It fit under her arm well enough, but the hard part was getting out. ”This isn’t good. Where do we go now?”

”I’m thinking’ we’ll have to bust a way out.”

Ellie backpedaled and glared down the hall they just came from. Nobody had ran this way just yet. Not one of them had noticed the ninja who tossed the smoke down at them. They didn't have long before they would be completely surrounded at all points, the only possible way out was through. A long corridor of hallways they came through, or a vertical shaft that leads to an unknown part of the facility. Rainsinger stared up the shaft through which the heart fell. The sound of drills getting louder and louder. If they were trying to drill a hole in the ceiling, did the shaft go to nowhere? Could they go up the way the enemy was coming down? Ellie could always stun the guards again, but they'd surely expect that move twice, and Linus didn't have enough water to make a platform. What would they have done if they were still here...

Ellie's face perked up after a moment as she turned back to the others, specifically Linus.

"Shinerun?"

Linus looked at her in total silence for a solid three seconds, he didn't expect that.

"Shinerush." He said confidently, as he brushed past Ellie outside the gate.

From the metal water bottles in his pocket, every drop flew out and formed a vertical wheel in front of him. The shape changed as the center of the wheel stretched forward. Ellie got right behind him as she spoke to Dream. "We're going to run out of here, if you see someone behind us, try to make a barrier out of your powers, kind of like the one he's doing. They won't be able to hit us as long as we stay in front of them." The wheel of water that Linus formed was now a hollow, foot long cone that seemed to vibrate profusely. Enough to distort what was being seen through it, but not enough to obscure their vision. Ellie reached forward as a clump of sunlight formed in her own hand. She reached into the water as it began to shimmer like the sun over the ocean. There was damn near nothing that would get to them now, as long as they stayed in front of anyone who tried to fire on them. "It's ready, let's go if we're goin'.

The water began to spin like a whirlpool, causing light to refract off the walls like rocks.

"Stay behind me, let's go!" She told Dream as she clutched the heart under her arms.

Apocalypse Not

@Cio

Apocalypse Not

Howling at The Moon

Reed Hensfield

Age

32

Gender

Male

Species

Human Werewolf

Description

A stout, tall and stony man, Reed is quiet, and observant of the world around him. His eyes always attentive of something even when it doesn’t look like it. He looks intimidating, but while he isn’t a bright and overtly friendly person, he isn't threatening either. Reed is reserved and prefers quiet areas where he can rest easy, like the mountains outside the city, or in his newfound hone where he can find solitude. He also doesn’t mind interaction with others, often listening more than he speaks, but when he does, his words aren’t empty. He speaks with meaning when it matters, and not at all when it does not. Reed gives offs an atmosphere of being closed off from everything around him, like he’s just shut down, but he isn’t, he is just reserved.

What some people first notice about Reed is his well-built stature. Living off the grid means you have to do a lot of things by hand, and Reed has put on quite a bit of muscle in the last few months. On a good day, you might see him carry a fallen tree over his shoulder, at least long enough to cut it into logs. This isn’t the kind of strength that wins fist fights, but the kind that comes from physically demanding conditions.

Personality

While most people might simply see Reed as this quiet and distant man with no place in the world, they don’t see the part of him that he leans into when he is away from the city. On his own, Reed is explorative and curious, trudging through the hills and mountains outside the city like he lives there, having high respect for everything else that he comes across, animals, forests, and people just trying to get away from the mess of the world. To anyone who gets to know him, Reed is a very trustworthy and reliable person to have on your side. When he says he’ll be there, he means he’ll be there. When you say you need help, he’ll help. In rare occasions where he looses his temper over something, Reed can be viscous and cruel against people who do him harm, almost like he’s another person entirely.

Skills

Outdoor Life

From hunting skills, to gathering firewood, to staying on the right path through the woods, Reed is an expert when it comes to living in ways where your survival comes from your ability to fend for yourself. This includes proper handling and marksmanship with a lever action 44-magnum rifle.

Moss

Everywhere Reed goes, he’s followed by a Norwegian Elkhound named Moss. Moss and Reed understand each other in ways most people don’t. While most people train their dogs to understand certain phrases and cues, these two can have entire conversations due to Reed’s werewolf blood, almost like Moss can speak English, she can only talk in the way dogs regularly do, but Reed knows what she means. This also causes most unfamiliar dogs to stare at Reed for unusually long periods of time, since they see the wolf in him.

Transformation

Reed has the power to take on the characteristics of a wolf, his body twists and contorts as his hair grows thick and thicker, and his bones rearrange until he resembles a hybrid between a man and an animal. In this form, he can run much faster, and scale buildings with enough effort. Reed’s fur protects him from some harm such as against stabbing or slashing, and it also insulated him a little from seriously cold weather. In this form, he cannot properly speak English, and he grows from 5”8’ to 6”3’, making doorways a little awkward.

A side effect of being a werewolf is that his senses of sight, hearing and smell are heightened somewhere between human and dog.

Weakness

Overload

Particularly high pitched noises bother Reed a lot, in the same way that they might drive a dog crazy. It doesn’t help that Reed can faintly hear dog whistles. If they’re bad enough, they could make him nauseous. Nails on a chalkboard, for example.

Beast Inside

The werewolf form that Reed can take on has a semblance of its own will. Having the power to transform into a beast carries with it the instincts of a beast. Every now and then, he can feel it locked up inside, pawing and scratching at a cage. In recent months he’s learned to deal with it by shifting regularly and roaming the woods at night, and sometimes sneaking around the outer reaches of the city to check on things. The problem with this is that Reed and the beast don’t entirely get along, meaning that sometimes when something makes him anxious or angry, he can feel something bubble up inside him like the beast is trying to bear its teeth. Reed has been taking steps to properly handle what he can become, and so far there hasn’t been any serious incident of someone getting eaten in the middle of the night.

Distant Life

Reed does not live in the city, he lives roughly an hour and a half away by car. He fled in the early days of the apocalypse when the changes in his form were unstable, and chose to keep distance between himself and others out of safety. While he is doing alright out there, the city is the closest place to it. In order to pay for things like gas or bullets, he saves some of the meat from his hunts to trade in some of the more ran down outskirts of the city. It isn’t much, but he gets by where he can. It’s either this, or risk shifting in the city at night.

History

Will add when I’m not lazy

Apocalypse Not

What is Dead May Never Die

Micheal Castor

Age

43…To the human eye.

Gender

Male

Species

Human until further notice

Description

A man uncharacteristically well dressed for the end times. Micheal is always seen wearing a suit and fedora, colored a pale burgundy, shoes that look blacker than the darkest pit of fire. He always speaks with measured, tactful words. Micheal appears to be a very charming, inviting person to talk to based on his demeanor alone. His clothes always seem to be dusty, covered in ash as if he just crawled out of the ground. In those dark eyes of his, all you see is nothing, just a thousand miles of vacancy, pointed right at you, and staring through all you are. It betrays the rest of his surreal demeanor coldly.

When you meet him, you’ll never forget the smell of burning pine and the sweet, smoky hint of kerosine behind it, that he always carries with him. Everything about Micheal’s appearance tells you that he isn’t from the area you’re in. Even his hair, which looks like a ashy, dirty blonde feels like it would crumble to dust at the touch of anything other than the classy hat he wears over it.

Personality

Suave, levelheaded, well-spoken, and punctual. All the characteristics of your typical classy, well dressed man from beyond the grave. Micheal has a certain level of tact and manner that most people forgo in the apocalypse. He acts like the world hasn’t just ended, though he isn’t necessarily in denial, he’s simply seen worse. He likes to treat others with a gentlemanly respect that seems to fit his atmosphere, and virtually never loses his temper, even when the situation threatens his life at first glance. Micheal isn’t particularly interested in survival, it didn’t work out last time, but he instead takes to drifting from place to place, see what he’s missed out on while he was away from all that ever was.

Skills

Fire

A corpse’s best friend. Fire just seems to kick itself into being whenever Micheal wants it to. It’s almost like magic. He can make fire whenever he wants, out of thin air, without so much as a matchstick. Strangely enough, his own body, and everything he wears are unharmed by his flames. As it turns out, being dead makes you fireproof.

Dead Man Walking

Micheal cannot die. He already did. Thanks to that, injuries aren’t his top priority. If you cut his head off, he’ll just put it back on. He doesn’t eat or drink anything, unless he simply wants to. Micheal still feels pain, but being stabbed through the chest feels more like a punch than a fatal injury. He left his heartbeat in the grave he crawled out of.

Lucky Suit

Inside Micheal’s suit, conveniently accessed by reaching into the side pocket, lies a few things any dead man can enjoy without repercussions. A bottom flask which contains a murky, viscous liquid of alcoholic origins, a seemingly inexhaustible supply of Marlboro Black cigarettes, a deck of cards that smell burnt, and a small notebook with curious contents. All of these things just appear whenever Micheal wants them, even if they’re destroyed. None of these things have a very practical use in a survival setting, unless you need to start a very hot fire very quickly, or take the edge off over a game of cards with arms strangers, but a good smoke at the end of days never hurt anyone, right?

Weaknesses

Physical Harm

While Micheal isn’t able to be truly killed, have you ever experienced pain so severe you felt weak? To incapacitate him, you would need to deal that level of hurt. It wouldn’t be easy, given how his sense of pain is somewhat filled, but if that doesn’t work, try severing a limb. He’ll just patch himself back up, but it take a while for him to do something like that. If all else fails, you could chop him up and scatter his body parts across the planet, and the worst you’d have to worry about is a few spontaneous fires here and there.

Still Human

Being dead doesn’t make your stronger, Micheal is still a human being by all accounts. He has no superhuman strength, no ability to appear anywhere instantly, if the usual human can’t do something, it’s unlikely he can. Then again, not every human being is a well-dressed zippo lighter with legs either.

History

Well, where to start…I am dead.

I haven’t had a heartbeat in my chest since I woke up in a cemetery. But I suppose what interests you more is…How I found myself on the other side to begin with. You see, any time was many decades ago, working in a factory. I assembled what the lapdogs wanted me to. Engine pieces, car parts, even weapons. That was what we all did, but during those days, money was a difficult subject for those who didn’t find themselves born into it. You would be lucky if you could afford a meal at the end of the day. There in that place were the lives of many spent, toiling over scraps until their bodies rejected them.

And so, I gathered a few…acquaintances of mine, to share an idea of mine with them. We deserved better than to waste away like that, and so we planned to take what should have been ours. The man who owned the factory, Johnathan Greene, would be the object of our little plot. It was simple, really. I spied on him as he consorted with his fellow upperclassmen. Once I learned of where he lived, it was a matter of action.

One by one, we pretended to be…insufficient, enough that he would cut us all lose, knowing he would forget our faces as he did so many others. Days after we were all gone, we snuck away from our homes, and crept miles away into the countryside. And sure enough, there stood his castle in the grass, we never imagined the money that one needed for such a home. We waited, and waited, for signs of Mr. Greene to leave for work, for a drink in a bar, or to retire for the night.

You may wonder why we would travel so far to rob a man, but Johnathan Greene was no regular man. No, he was cruel, a monster to his workers, we had not the luxury of resignation. That is why we made ourselves seem poor at work, what else is a factory owner to do than to cut away workers who do not prove useful anymore? Mr Greene deserved to lose everything he had never earned. When night came, the windows of his lavish estate were shattered. We fell on that place like dogs in the pitch black. Not a light in the house. Everything that seemed valuable, we stole.

But in the midst of our midnight greed, we had overlooked something dire, Mr. Greene and his wife, and his daughter. They had saw our faces. They knew us, and would certainly remember us come morning. It was a shame, to be honest. His wife was quite beautiful. The police did not make it to their home until after the ashes had settled. All eyes focused on the warm, golden glow in the dark, yet no one wondered who could be in the dark. When the sun rose again, we were home.

And we were rich.

We went our separate ways after that day, all of us. Enough money for us all to retire, richer than we could ever be. I suppose that now, I should mention, there were only three of us. Myself, Walter, and Danny. I did not hear anything about either of those two for many years.

In that time, I married. I was set in life, and everything ended well, until I learned of something interesting. Danny began to feel…afraid that someone would come for him. I had heard of Walter’s mysterious murder at the hands of an unknown killer. It only made sense, then. Three people can keep a secret, as long as two of them are dead. Who else would want to kill a retired old man? I began to plan for Danny’s advance on my own life, when the phone rang. I didn’t know how he found our number, but he told me to come and meet him. You can’t fool me so easily. I know that I am waving over many details in all of this, but they’re not important.

A day goes by, and I’m standing in front of Danny at the kitchen table of my home, and Walter is with him. They told me, “Walter faked his death, so no one would come after him.” But I know it was to fool me. You wanted me to come to your home full of disarmed sympathy, didn’t you, Danny? They were afraid I would rat them out like the little backstabbers they were. And so, they attempted to get rid of me later that day. We had caught up over a game of cards, and I let them help themselves to all the bourbon in my home. They couldn’t resist a good drink, and it made them sloppy.

I told them that I knew everything about their little plan. Next thing I know, Walter is bleeding like a stuck pig, my family is hiding upstairs, and Danny’s throat is caught in my hands. The table is knocked sideways, and our drinks were spilled all over the table.

“You always were a sick, cold bastard,” Danny told me, as he reached into his pocket, to pull out a lighter.

My home burned down, but they went with me. The two foolish traitors who thought they would get away with taking me to the grave were dragged down with me, like helpless animals being carried into a cave to be butchered by wolves. The last thing I ever heard were the sounds of my old partners in betterment, screaming down to hell alongside myself.

The difference between them and I? Well, I crawled back out.

Something, and mind you that I don’t know what, woke me up from whatever distant hollow I fell into. When I woke up, I was still burning like a struck tree, but the flames felt cold, like water. I crawled out of miles and miles of wet, burning mud and grime, and when I could breathe again, the only thing that I could see were ashes from a broken headstone, and my own two hands. I had come back from the great beyond, the other side, the pearly gates, what have you. And those two did not.

Now, the world I lived with has been gone for a very long time, well before the state of things became what they are today, so I can’t entirely complain. It seems that I’ve missed a lot on my little vacation from this land of ours. Somebody has decided that they weren’t all too pleased with the way the world was, and wanted to give it a beat down, yet they only stopped when they bruised its cheek. It’s a lazy job, if I may be so blunt. And yet, a dead man like me seems to fit in just right.

Even better, I have nothing left to lose, and Danny and Walter, well, they’re not so lucky.

I think I’m starting to like this new life of mine.

Playlist

Straight from Hell

Howling at The Moon

Reed Hensfield

Age

32

Gender

Male

Species

Human Werewolf

Description

A stout, tall and stony man, Reed is quiet, and observant of the world around him. His eyes always attentive of something even when it doesn’t look like it. He looks intimidating, but while he isn’t a bright and overtly friendly person, he isn't threatening either. Reed is reserved and prefers quiet areas where he can rest easy, like the mountains outside the city, or in his newfound hone where he can find solitude. He also doesn’t mind interaction with others, often listening more than he speaks, but when he does, his words aren’t empty. He speaks with meaning when it matters, and not at all when it does not. Reed gives offs an atmosphere of being closed off from everything around him, like he’s just shut down, but he isn’t, he is just reserved.

What some people first notice about Reed is his well-built stature. Living off the grid means you have to do a lot of things by hand, and Reed has put on quite a bit of muscle in the last few months. On a good day, you might see him carry a fallen tree over his shoulder, at least long enough to cut it into logs. This isn’t the kind of strength that wins fist fights, but the kind that comes from physically demanding conditions.

Personality

While most people might simply see Reed as this quiet and distant man with no place in the world, they don’t see the part of him that he leans into when he is away from the city. On his own, Reed is explorative and curious, trudging through the hills and mountains outside the city like he lives there, having high respect for everything else that he comes across, animals, forests, and people just trying to get away from the mess of the world. To anyone who gets to know him, Reed is a very trustworthy and reliable person to have on your side. When he says he’ll be there, he means he’ll be there. When you say you need help, he’ll help. In rare occasions where he looses his temper over something, Reed can be viscous and cruel against people who do him harm, almost like he’s another person entirely.

Skills

Outdoor Life

From hunting skills, to gathering firewood, to staying on the right path through the woods, Reed is an expert when it comes to living in ways where your survival comes from your ability to fend for yourself. This includes proper handling and marksmanship with a lever action 44-magnum rifle.

Moss

Everywhere Reed goes, he’s followed by a Norwegian Elkhound named Moss. Moss and Reed understand each other in ways most people don’t. While most people train their dogs to understand certain phrases and cues, these two can have entire conversations due to Reed’s werewolf blood, almost like Moss can speak English, she can only talk in the way dogs regularly do, but Reed knows what she means. This also causes most unfamiliar dogs to stare at Reed for unusually long periods of time, since they see the wolf in him.

Transformation

Reed has the power to take on the characteristics of a wolf, his body twists and contorts as his hair grows thick and thicker, and his bones rearrange until he resembles a hybrid between a man and an animal. In this form, he can run much faster, and scale buildings with enough effort. Reed’s fur protects him from some harm such as against stabbing or slashing, and it also insulated him a little from seriously cold weather. In this form, he cannot properly speak English, and he grows from 5”8’ to 6”3’, making doorways a little awkward.

A side effect of being a werewolf is that his senses of sight, hearing and smell are heightened somewhere between human and dog.

Weakness

Overload

Particularly high pitched noises bother Reed a lot, in the same way that they might drive a dog crazy. It doesn’t help that Reed can faintly hear dog whistles. If they’re bad enough, they could make him nauseous. Nails on a chalkboard, for example.

Beast Inside

The werewolf form that Reed can take on has a semblance of its own will. Having the power to transform into a beast carries with it the instincts of a beast. Every now and then, he can feel it locked up inside, pawing and scratching at a cage. In recent months he’s learned to deal with it by shifting regularly and roaming the woods at night, and sometimes sneaking around the outer reaches of the city to check on things. The problem with this is that Reed and the beast don’t entirely get along, meaning that sometimes when something makes him anxious or angry, he can feel something bubble up inside him like the beast is trying to bear its teeth. Reed has been taking steps to properly handle what he can become, and so far there hasn’t been any serious incident of someone getting eaten in the middle of the night.

Distant Life

Reed does not live in the city, he lives roughly an hour and a half away by car. He fled in the early days of the apocalypse when the changes in his form were unstable, and chose to keep distance between himself and others out of safety. While he is doing alright out there, the city is the closest place to it. In order to pay for things like gas or bullets, he saves some of the meat from his hunts to trade in some of the more ran down outskirts of the city. It isn’t much, but he gets by where he can. It’s either this, or risk shifting in the city at night.

History

Will add when I’m not lazy

Apocalypse Not

What is Dead May Never Die

Micheal Castor

Age

43…To the human eye.

Gender

Male

Species

Human until further notice

Description

A man uncharacteristically well dressed for the end times. Micheal is always seen wearing a suit and fedora, colored a pale burgundy, shoes that look blacker than the darkest pit of fire. He always speaks with measured, tactful words. Micheal appears to be a very charming, inviting person to talk to based on his demeanor alone. His clothes always seem to be dusty, covered in ash as if he just crawled out of the ground. In those dark eyes of his, all you see is nothing, just a thousand miles of vacancy, pointed right at you, and staring through all you are. It betrays the rest of his surreal demeanor coldly.

When you meet him, you’ll never forget the smell of burning pine and the sweet, smoky hint of kerosine behind it, that he always carries with him. Everything about Micheal’s appearance tells you that he isn’t from the area you’re in. Even his hair, which looks like a ashy, dirty blonde feels like it would crumble to dust at the touch of anything other than the classy hat he wears over it.

Personality

Suave, levelheaded, well-spoken, and punctual. All the characteristics of your typical classy, well dressed man from beyond the grave. Micheal has a certain level of tact and manner that most people forgo in the apocalypse. He acts like the world hasn’t just ended, though he isn’t necessarily in denial, he’s simply seen worse. He likes to treat others with a gentlemanly respect that seems to fit his atmosphere, and virtually never loses his temper, even when the situation threatens his life at first glance. Micheal isn’t particularly interested in survival, it didn’t work out last time, but he instead takes to drifting from place to place, see what he’s missed out on while he was away from all that ever was.

Skills

Fire

A corpse’s best friend. Fire just seems to kick itself into being whenever Micheal wants it to. It’s almost like magic. He can make fire whenever he wants, out of thin air, without so much as a matchstick. Strangely enough, his own body, and everything he wears are unharmed by his flames. As it turns out, being dead makes you fireproof.

Dead Man Walking

Micheal cannot die. He already did. Thanks to that, injuries aren’t his top priority. If you cut his head off, he’ll just put it back on. He doesn’t eat or drink anything, unless he simply wants to. Micheal still feels pain, but being stabbed through the chest feels more like a punch than a fatal injury. He left his heartbeat in the grave he crawled out of.

Lucky Suit

Inside Micheal’s suit, conveniently accessed by reaching into the side pocket, lies a few things any dead man can enjoy without repercussions. A bottom flask which contains a murky, viscous liquid of alcoholic origins, a seemingly inexhaustible supply of Marlboro Black cigarettes, a deck of cards that smell burnt, and a small notebook with curious contents. All of these things just appear whenever Micheal wants them, even if they’re destroyed. None of these things have a very practical use in a survival setting, unless you need to start a very hot fire very quickly, or take the edge off over a game of cards with arms strangers, but a good smoke at the end of days never hurt anyone, right?

Weaknesses

Physical Harm

While Micheal isn’t able to be truly killed, have you ever experienced pain so severe you felt weak? To incapacitate him, you would need to deal that level of hurt. It wouldn’t be easy, given how his sense of pain is somewhat filled, but if that doesn’t work, try severing a limb. He’ll just patch himself back up, but it take a while for him to do something like that. If all else fails, you could chop him up and scatter his body parts across the planet, and the worst you’d have to worry about is a few spontaneous fires here and there.

Still Human

Being dead doesn’t make your stronger, Micheal is still a human being by all accounts. He has no superhuman strength, no ability to appear anywhere instantly, if the usual human can’t do something, it’s unlikely he can. Then again, not every human being is a well-dressed zippo lighter with legs either.

History

Well, where to start…I am dead.

I haven’t had a heartbeat in my chest since I woke up in a cemetery. But I suppose what interests you more is…How I found myself on the other side to begin with. You see, any time was many decades ago, working in a factory. I assembled what the lapdogs wanted me to. Engine pieces, car parts, even weapons. That was what we all did, but during those days, money was a difficult subject for those who didn’t find themselves born into it. You would be lucky if you could afford a meal at the end of the day. There in that place were the lives of many spent, toiling over scraps until their bodies rejected them.

And so, I gathered a few…acquaintances of mine, to share an idea of mine with them. We deserved better than to waste away like that, and so we planned to take what should have been ours. The man who owned the factory, Johnathan Greene, would be the object of our little plot. It was simple, really. I spied on him as he consorted with his fellow upperclassmen. Once I learned of where he lived, it was a matter of action.

One by one, we pretended to be…insufficient, enough that he would cut us all lose, knowing he would forget our faces as he did so many others. Days after we were all gone, we snuck away from our homes, and crept miles away into the countryside. And sure enough, there stood his castle in the grass, we never imagined the money that one needed for such a home. We waited, and waited, for signs of Mr. Greene to leave for work, for a drink in a bar, or to retire for the night.

You may wonder why we would travel so far to rob a man, but Johnathan Greene was no regular man. No, he was cruel, a monster to his workers, we had not the luxury of resignation. That is why we made ourselves seem poor at work, what else is a factory owner to do than to cut away workers who do not prove useful anymore? Mr Greene deserved to lose everything he had never earned. When night came, the windows of his lavish estate were shattered. We fell on that place like dogs in the pitch black. Not a light in the house. Everything that seemed valuable, we stole.

But in the midst of our midnight greed, we had overlooked something dire, Mr. Greene and his wife, and his daughter. They had saw our faces. They knew us, and would certainly remember us come morning. It was a shame, to be honest. His wife was quite beautiful. The police did not make it to their home until after the ashes had settled. All eyes focused on the warm, golden glow in the dark, yet no one wondered who could be in the dark. When the sun rose again, we were home.

And we were rich.

We went our separate ways after that day, all of us. Enough money for us all to retire, richer than we could ever be. I suppose that now, I should mention, there were only three of us. Myself, Walter, and Danny. I did not hear anything about either of those two for many years.

In that time, I married. I was set in life, and everything ended well, until I learned of something interesting. Danny began to feel…afraid that someone would come for him. I had heard of Walter’s mysterious murder at the hands of an unknown killer. It only made sense, then. Three people can keep a secret, as long as two of them are dead. Who else would want to kill a retired old man? I began to plan for Danny’s advance on my own life, when the phone rang. I didn’t know how he found our number, but he told me to come and meet him. You can’t fool me so easily. I know that I am waving over many details in all of this, but they’re not important.

A day goes by, and I’m standing in front of Danny at the kitchen table of my home, and Walter is with him. They told me, “Walter faked his death, so no one would come after him.” But I know it was to fool me. You wanted me to come to your home full of disarmed sympathy, didn’t you, Danny? They were afraid I would rat them out like the little backstabbers they were. And so, they attempted to get rid of me later that day. We had caught up over a game of cards, and I let them help themselves to all the bourbon in my home. They couldn’t resist a good drink, and it made them sloppy.

I told them that I knew everything about their little plan. Next thing I know, Walter is bleeding like a stuck pig, my family is hiding upstairs, and Danny’s throat is caught in my hands. The table is knocked sideways, and our drinks were spilled all over the table.

“You always were a sick, cold bastard,” Danny told me, as he reached into his pocket, to pull out a lighter.

My home burned down, but they went with me. The two foolish traitors who thought they would get away with taking me to the grave were dragged down with me, like helpless animals being carried into a cave to be butchered by wolves. The last thing I ever heard were the sounds of my old partners in betterment, screaming down to hell alongside myself.

The difference between them and I? Well, I crawled back out.

Something, and mind you that I don’t know what, woke me up from whatever distant hollow I fell into. When I woke up, I was still burning like a struck tree, but the flames felt cold, like water. I crawled out of miles and miles of wet, burning mud and grime, and when I could breathe again, the only thing that I could see were ashes from a broken headstone, and my own two hands. I had come back from the great beyond, the other side, the pearly gates, what have you. And those two did not.

Now, the world I lived with has been gone for a very long time, well before the state of things became what they are today, so I can’t entirely complain. It seems that I’ve missed a lot on my little vacation from this land of ours. Somebody has decided that they weren’t all too pleased with the way the world was, and wanted to give it a beat down, yet they only stopped when they bruised its cheek. It’s a lazy job, if I may be so blunt. And yet, a dead man like me seems to fit in just right.

Even better, I have nothing left to lose, and Danny and Walter, well, they’re not so lucky.

I think I’m starting to like this new life of mine.

Playlist

Straight from Hell

Apocalypse Not

<Snipped quote by Blizz>

You better not be biting off my character idea! (JK)

@WanderingDragon

I called the arsonist zombie first

Apocalypse Not

A preview

Apocalypse Not

@Blizz It is indeed some fuckery, yes!

@WanderingDragon@SilverPaw OOC is up!

roleplayerguild.com/topics/186692-apo…

@EchoicChamber

Already have a funky idea

It involves arson