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InFamous: Generations

Post is up; awaiting further plot schemes :P

InFamous: Generations

"So remind me what the plan is exactly," Jacob asked his associate; one of the other reapers that had been sent with him under the pretext of 'supervision'. He wasn't a conduit but seemed to hold respect with Scorn, and as a result was a bit demanding of getting similar respect from Jacob- this being his first actual job since joining. Though there was a briefing of sorts things seemed a little need to know, even if it was mostly due to the fact that the job seemed simple enough. So there the two of them were; sitting on a bench together near the Fossil Hall in the museum trying to look like normal citizens until the call for action came. Jacob just wasn't sure what the call would call for.

"There is no 'exactly'," the reaper known as 'Mikey' replied, his tone sounding impatient, "and that's why we're here. We- or I should say you- are a sort of mix between 'the Calvary', 'a distraction', and 'Plan B'. If for whatever reason things need to get destructive, or the Government officials show up, you are going to put your talents to work and make waves."

"And that's all we're doing, right? Just making waves?" Jacob asked, the concern evident in his voice as he looked across the room before him. His eyes fell on the large Tyrannosaurus fossil in the center of the room, it's massive frame held up by poles and wires. It had been a day or two since he'd run out of medication, and though he'd brought up his need and his lack of money it was for some reason being put off. He'd started seeing things more often, and right now was no different as the stress of not really knowing what would happen was getting to him.

"More or less," Mikey replied, his eyes following Jacob's to the exhibit before them. "That one should be easy to make something from, eh?" he then laughed, shaking Jacob's shoulder to pull him from whatever trance he'd fallen into. "You'll do fine, man," he then commented, his tone becoming a bit more serious, "To make things a bit clearer look at it this way; if we need it, you're going to give people something to shoot at and that's all."

InFamous: Generations

I can post soon. Probably later tonight I'll be able to :)

Pokemon Mystery Dungeon: Explorers of the Void

That was an argument over a picture from a TV show :I

Well, I'm going to go down to the IC. I'll probably post later though since I think we have guests coming over soon.

The Dust

And out of the blue, random new person appears!

Hello, random new person with a rocket launcher!

@Monochromatic Rainbow

Hello :). My app has been accepted just to let you know; I spoke with Aeo and Kapu through PM

Ohai.

@TheMadAsshatter

Hai-o :P

The Dust

BENTO'S DAD!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?

@Darcs

I don't think so :|. I understand that they share a substance abuse problem but is there more that I'm missing?

The Dust

One Month Ago

Out in the wastelands was the only place Ivan felt somewhat normal, the only thing there was to see being sand, dust, and dirt stretching on for miles. If it weren't for the absence of a sky, he could have believed for a moment his eyes had returned to the way they'd been long ago. With a grin underneath the plain hood over his face, Ivan smiled as a short fit of coughing overtook him, temporarily ruining the stillness of the figure sitting at the edge of The Big Empty.

Soon as he recovered, Ivan straightened his back again and looked out into the vast desert before him, trying to remember for a moment what a sunset looked like. The day was close to ending, as it had been long enough now that Ivan could feel the temperature beginning to drop and he knew it had been daylight out when he fled Isolone. For a moment, he could feel the creeping loneliness that always made itself known after leaving a settlement, like a looming shadow that worked into the back of his mind.

Wishing to keep such thoughts away for now, Ivan reached behind him and removed his backpack from his shoulders, dirt falling from the space on his back that now felt naked and exposed. The discomfort distracted Ivan from what loneliness he felt, and from one of the side pouches he pulled a small bundle of cloth which was gently placed on the ground before him, only a foot from the sheer drop off of the mesa. Quickly he put his pack back on, shrugging uncomfortably as he tried returning it to exactly how he'd worn it a moment ago.

With his bag back on and his cape covering it once more, the man brought his attention to the little bundle of cloth he had placed before him. Carefully, he unwrapped the bundle to reveal a plain glass pipe and rusted lighter, both objects covered in grime, ash, and dirt. Faintly, Ivan could see where the small pile of substance he'd acquired in the town rested on the cloth which was now like a place-mat for some fine meal. It was an odd substance; apparently some kind of fungus that had recently been discovered by those living in Isolone. Where it grew must have been somewhat unpleasant, as the mycelium was visible to Ivan meaning it was dirty. The texture reminded him of sponge as he began pulling apart the odd toadstool and placing it in his pipe, and as he finished preparing to light up the idea that he had been sold a lie crossed his mind.

"Guess I'll find out," he murmured, his voice hardly a whisper as he raised the pipe to the slit in his hood meant for his mouth. With the flick of his thumb the heat of the lighter told him it had caught, and he quickly brought the flame to his pipe to avoid wasting fuel. The smoke entered his lungs as he inhaled deeply, the substance burning up at an alarming rate which result in him burning his thumb on the rising flame. He wanted to curse, but held it in so the smoke could stay in his lungs for longer.

After about thirty seconds Ivan let go, smoke pouring out of his hood first from just the mouth slit but eventually from his eye holes too. Happily he grinned, unable to see the vapors but feeling their warmth against his face and their scent in his nose. He would have taken another hit but all that was left in the pipe was burnt grime, so somewhat disappointed he did his best to smoke what was left before putting away his things and returning to the still pose he had been in before.

He could feel it was close to dark now, the temperature having dropped dramatically, and while he waited for whatever he'd just smoked to take effect Ivan opened one of the pockets at the side of his vest for his flute. The metal felt cool in his hands as he pulled out the two pieces and screwed them together, the instrument barely fitting one of the pouches even while in half. He was glad he could make it work though, as the instrument being easy to access brought him comfort that he had become so used to and was now sure he couldn't live without.

His mind beginning to drift he licked his lips before placing them upon the instrument, still without taking his hood off as the mouth slit was just large enough to let him play through it. To start he just blew, a shrill note echoing out into the emptiness around him which Ivan silently blessed before continuing. His song of choice tonight was one he remembered his people used to play, often after a long week of work when men and woman returned home from Ironhold. Though he didn't sing, the lyrics passed in his mind like a choir of distant echos; voices that had once belonged to people he knew.

"The sand, she burns. The wind, she turns. The storm- it soon shall pass. And we alone, will live on through song. Long forgotten, our souls at last..."

The Dust

Hello everyone, it's nice to finally be able to introduce myself :D. I wrote up a sort of intro post for now just to establish character and such, and I'll hopefully post more soon. I have an understanding of what's happening right now in the RP and I'm just thinking about what to do. If there's anyone RPing alone right now we could probably figure something out ;P

The Dust

Basics

Name: Ivan 'A'
Age: 47
Appeared Age: early 60's
Height: 6'8
Weight: 230 lbs
Eye Color: Brown. Sclera are the colour of mud
Hair Color: Black
Physical Disabilities: Blind
Physical Identifiers:

• What appears to be the second stage of 'The Sickness' can be seen underneath Ivan's eyes

Appearance:

Without hood

Ivan isn't too easy on the eyes for most people, his personal care being greatly neglected as he can't see to take care of himself. His improper diet has led to malnourishment, which keeps him looking chronically ill even if ignoring how his hair has fallen out or the dark patches under his eyes. While he can't know how he looks, Ivan understands it's anything but pretty and very rarely takes off his hood. He rarely takes anything off for that mater; having one set of clothing that he wears like a second skin and it's kept 'clean' by the sand and dirt constantly getting everywhere.

Ivan is a rather large man, and despite his somewhat sickly looks is in fairly good physical condition. To go with his height he's also quite heavy set, with a somewhat imbalanced combination of fat and muscle that gives him the physique of a long ago retired rugby player. If it weren't for his nomadic lifestyle he'd be quite unfit, though days on end of trudging through the desert with a heavy pack keep him considerably strong underneath his layer of flab. A large amount of his strength comes from knowing how to throw his weight around though, and his arms are comparably weak to the rest of him.

Background

Residence: Homeless
Profession: N/A
Aligned Faction: N/A
Relatives: Most likely deceased

Backstory

Ivan had been born in a shanty town west of the city now known as Ironhold, the small group of settlers being one of many that traveled between towns looking for work either in construction or labouring. It was a poor setting to be brought up in, with questionable morals with the most notable of which being their skewed view on religion. Life there was very binary for most, with the standard of living being only a little better than 'surviving'. They ate what they found, wore what other people got rid of, and found joy in the simpler aspects of managing to get by in the world. Ivan hadn't really questioned such things, and as he grew older picked up what minimal responsibilities there were to take care of here and there. Music and stories were their only form of culture, many of these tales modeled after the crude understanding of the great beings that controlled the world around them.

Ivan's life was on track to soon get a job laying bricks or mining ore, following after those he lived with up until some time after turning fifteen when he contracted 'The Sickness'. People where he lived knew of the disease but had poor knowledge on it, associating it with evil deities and knowing that as soon as the dark circles appeared the issue had to be dealt with.

Unfortunately for Ivan, 'dealing with it' was a public display of burning the infected at the stake. Deciding that would not be his fate, Ivan ran off the day his eyes grew shadowed, taking all he could with no plan other than to escape being burned alive and possibly beheaded. In the back of his mind he was scared of what might be next for him, as there was good reason people that got sick were killed like they were, but he felt healthy enough and decided a chance was better than nothing.

The boy was ill prepared though, and his fear had made him overlook the dangers of the desert like the sandstorm that struck only a day after he left. He was in pain, hands pawing at the hot sand while his gut twisted and his head pounded. He couldn't see anything, his sight fading as the storm picked up and blindness set in. Ivan was in tears as he felt his end drawing nearer, and prayed for death to claim him quickly.

No such thing happened though. The next morning, Ivan awoke covered in sand and began to panic. Just as soon as he wished it, like a giant fish, the desert spat him out from what must have been seven feet underground. Still panicking, Ivan looked around with his no longer working eyes, somehow able to see everything represented in a strange outline before him. All he could see was sand, the gritty substance being the only thing his eyes could recognize and leaving the rest of the world invisible. He'd somehow survived the Sickness, though not without his loses, and was left alone in a world he knew little about.

Over the years, Ivan learned of how he'd survived his escape and the status of 'Immortal' that came with it. Though he could feel a connection to all earth and rock, the now young man learned he was limited by how he could only shift materials loose enough to move his hands through which explained his incident in the desert those years ago. It didn't take long for him to realize people could catch on from something wrong with his eyes, and that plus the scarred on sickness on his face was enough reason for Ivan to hide his face which eventually it led to him dawning the hood he has now become so attached to. In an attempt to make his life easier, Ivan had forgotten his surname, decided to keep moving, and try to find joy in what he could such as his chance to learn about the world beyond his home. So he traveled, from place to place, preforming on the streets for money when he needed to buy food and delighting in any company he could find. He'd become quite the skilled flute player, and has learned that his stories entertain a select few who chose to listen to him. Along the way he became more adapt at this way of life, using his abilities to move through the desert and eventually acquiring his somewhat unique weapon to use for quick escapes. People weren't always that happy if they learned he was an immortal, and if they already knew there was no point in trying to make a sneaky exit; only a quick one would do. The rocket launcher always assured there'd be at least some material for him to work with in such cases.

In his pursuit of happiness, Ivan spent his money on whatever interested him and after gaining an interest in alcohol it acted as a gateway for more potent substances. Uneducated on the subject, Ivan knew only that the sensations these things brought were enjoyable and actively pursues them any chance he gets with no awareness to how it affects his health. A few years of living like this had somewhat skewed Ivan's perception of the world, and his focus became on the peace he found simply in existence with minimal care taken towards himself. In his opinion Ivan sees himself as enlightened; glad he hasn't confined himself to one place and is free to partake in what he wishes when he can. So he wanders, his head often in another place as he moves from city to city only so he can make enough money for more food and whatever 'sweet treasures' he can obtain.

Gear

Weapons:

• Rocket Launcher: Ivan refers to this as his 'dust kicker', and it's use isn't strictly offensive. It's main purpose is to destroy the earth where the ground may have become compacted or hard for Ivan to utilize. Aim it at the ground, and anything blasted apart becomes loose enough to be manipulated by Ivan.
• Hunting Knife: A fairly standard boot knife; almost entirely used for utility though it has been pulled in self defense before.

Armor: Some light padding, including a bullet proof vest, but otherwise it's meant to help keep him from harm as he stumbles about the desert.
Ammunition:

• Dirty Rounds: Three crudely crafted but still functional grenades
• High Grade Rounds: One military grade grenade, kept in Ivan's pack for an 'emergency'

Backpack:

• Largely used to carry water bottles, ammunition, and some food. A sleeve of sorts on the outside holds his rocket launcher, and the outer pockets hold a few personal things such as his flute, a filthy compass, and some bandages, a lighter, and a dirty glass pipe.

Immortalis Information

Manifested Phenomena: Earth Moving. Able to direct anything that will allow itself to be moved.
Unique Abilities:

• Muddy eyes: Though technically blind, Ivan can still 'see' dirt and sand. Anything dirty appears a la the invisible man covered in flour, and anything clean will escape his notice. To make things more noticeable, Ivan will often drag his dirtied hands on things.
• Sandstorm: Ivan can swirl any material he has available around him, the particles easily get in people's eyes and if there's enough sand or dirt available he can completely shroud himself. The larger the sandstorm the less dense it can be, and it can not be directed as Ivan must stay at the center. This ability does render him practically blind, but should do the same to his foes.
• Dune Digger: Through any loose terrain, Ivan can shift the material around him and travel extremely quickly in this manner. He can't see where he's going though while underground as he's surrounded by sand, and this is mostly used as an escape tool.

Strengths:

• Reserved: Ivan consistently goes long periods of time with minimal food and water, able to use his abilities to move around and conserve energy should he need to.
• Traveler: Ivan has spent most of his life wandering from place to place, not wanting to settle down anywhere and knowing the way from town to town quite well trusting he has his compass.
• Escapist: Ivan has become fairly good at making himself scarce, and will often do so rather than confront any threats should he see it as an option.

Weaknesses:

• Unawares: While Ivan can make out the shape of his environment details are hard to come by. Ivan has a poor sense of direction (without his compass), is unable to read most things, and can't see anything that is relatively clean.
• I haven't aged well: Ivan doesn't lead a very healthy lifestyle, eating improperly and inconsistently, living out in the open most of the time, and having poor personal hygiene since the dirt he's cover in keeps him from smelling a whole lot.
• Addict: Ivan has an addictive personality, and partakes in most forms of getting inebriated any chance he gets, foregoing food sometimes.

Magic of the Ancients

EDIT: Sorry, wrong thread. Didn't mean to interrupt.