Doc Doctor

Myriad Reality

Yes.

Myriad Reality

However long it lives, really. Might be short term if it's killed, or long term if it can keep up the good old monster bit.

Myriad Reality

Ait, here's my entry.

Shashous-Throth

Full Name: Shashous-Throth

Nickames/Alias/AKA: The Magna Pater

Age: 1,107

Gender: Male

Class: Monster

Race: Primal Vampire

Appearance: A piebald monstrosity with slime slicked flesh and no hind legs. Its only limbs are two winged arms and a long, powerful tail. The middle claw on each forepaw is eight inches long and razor sharp. The beast's head is mostly a jagged maw with oily, unseeing eyes on top. From snout to tail base, it is a little less than eight feet long. The tail is ten feet. It weighs in at about five-hundred pounds, as much as a tiger.



Average lifespan: As long as it can continue drinking blood. It doesn't age when it sleeps for years in-between large meals.

Abilities: Limited flight, tremendous strength and speed, keen hearing and sonar. Its sense of smell is of such magnitude that it can track down others thousands of kilometers away just by smelling them on the clothing of its prey. Excels in stealth hunting and close combat. Is far more clever that it looks. Can quickly regenerate from wounds by drinking blood. The amount of mass healed is proportionate to how much blood is consumed, I.E one pound of blood to replace one pound of damaged tissue. Its body mucous and saliva contains cytotoxic and bufotoxic properties. Those whom it bites or claws will suffer gradual necrosis and fast-acting, nightmarish hallucinations. The membrane of its wings is tougher than Kevlar. Due to its limited wingspan it can only fly for a maximum distance of ninety meters and remain aloft for little more than a half minute.



Behavior: Shashous-Throth is what one would first think of when the word "monster" comes to you in the dead of night. It makes no noise, has no mercy, and lives only to drain the blood and devour the flesh of all living things it can bind within its greasy wings. But it is shy, and it despises the light. Shashous-Throth prefers to remain in damp pitch-blackness, where no eyes can spy it and no light can fall upon it. When outside of its primary lair it lurks around graveyards, occasionally squirming through the wormy soil to feast upon the dead and decaying when no live meat is available. It never stops pursuing its prey, even if they move far away. It will also track down any living thing that leaves its scent on a victim. This often leads to the Magna Pater consuming the families of those it hunts, along with anyone those families had come into recent physical contact with.

History: Once in a millennium does a creature born of vampires enter this world, a monstrosity known as the "Magna Pater". The prodigal ancestor, the true genesis, ancient and terrible. In this lifetime does a special one exist. The most dreadful of its kind to have ever lived. It resides deep below ground, amidst a lichen hellscape of death and graverot. It slumbers upon a towering mountain of soggy bones, reigning over its decaying empire on a haphazard throne several thousand lives thick. Those who enter this wretched domain, where the blue sky transitions into a black void, do so at the risk of becoming yet another skeleton upon which the Magna Pater may sleep, with their loved ones soon joining them.

Theme Music: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6asBlPR6Be8

RPGuild Ranking Headquarters!

Anybody up for a ranked low-to-mid powered match? Or if not, then just a fun one?

@Doc Doctor

Myriad Reality

Do I post character apps here?

Pokemon Colosseum: The Light Extinguished

Name: Ferlin Baterman
Gender: Male
Age: 59
Personality: A twisted and dirty man, Ferlin ruthlessly abuses his pokemon and punishes them if they don't win. He hates everyone but hides it beneath a mocking sickly-sweetness.

Appearance:

My Hider

History: Ferlin grew up the third son of the town drunk. His older brothers relentlessly harassed and tormented him until he had gained enough income to leave the family broom closet at age 35. Since then he has been going around as an amateur pokemon trainer, gaining most of his wins by making opponents forfeit out of disgust.

Home town: Pallet

Starting Pokemon: Oshawatt and Squirtle, both level 3.

Doc's Gnarly Characters

A very rude man with a very big axe.

Captain Kull

Captain Arlgor Kull

Name: Arlgor Kull
Aliases: Cap'n Kull
Titles: Captain of the Crimson Guard
Age: 36
Gender: Male

Physical Attributes

Build: 5'7", 172 pounds, heavily muscled
Reach: 71.0 in (180 cm)
Eyes: Steely gray, overshadowed by sardonic eyebrows.
Hair: A black widow's peak, combed back
Skin Tone: Pale
Dominant Hand: Right
Tattoos/Scars/Piercings: Kull's eyes and mouth have distinct scarring from fistfights, permanent cauliflower ears, several white notches crisscross his chest and arms, presumably left by various bladed weapons. His right forearm is encircled by several deep tissue scars, from when he shoved his hand down a lion's esophagus.

Day To Day Attire: A full set of bronze armor (faceless helmet, pauldrons, breastplate, armguards, gauntlets, greaves, the works), a maroon cloak emblazoned with the insignia of a black bull, a fifty-one inch, seven pound double headed greataxe (each blade is a foot long and eight inches wide at the taper), a sabre with chili powder in the scabbard worn on his right flank, a pair of gauche daggers with seven inch blades at his waist, a pair strapped to his calves, and one on each flank. Six daggers in all. He's very fond of wearing crimson war paint, in tiger stripes across his face.


Overall length: 42" (106 cm)
Blade length: 35.25" (89.5 cm)
Blade width (at bell): 1.375"
CoB: 3.75" from Guard (9.53 cm)
CoP: 23" from Guard (58.4 cm)
Weight: 2.75 lbs (1.25 kilos)

*The last ten inches of the false edge are razor sharp, and the reinforced steel scabbard has a serrated blade at the end.



Abilities: Kull is a physical powerhouse, able to bench 500 and kick through cinderblock like styrofoam with his reinforced greaves. He once killed a lion with asphyxiation by ramming his fist down its throat. He has the reflexes and studied devotion to bodily mechanics of such peak, world champion boxers as Mohammed Ali, Floyd Mayweather, Rocky Marciano, and Andre Dirrell, with the striking power to match, along with nearly three decades of experience as a manslayer.

Personality: Kull is an abrasive, overwhelming, and incredibly intense man who has no concept of what an indoor voice is and no off-button. He's of a wild, brave nature, meeting every challenge in the only way he knows how; by beating it down with his axe and/or screaming profanity at it. He's quite creative in his lunatic insults, but it's rarely personal. It serves as a psychological aid and weapon for Kull, enabling him to work himself into a war frenzy while intimidating his opposition. As a professional warrior and captain of the guard (he was a former mercenary as well), he lives solely to hone his skills in combat, and to help mold an environment free of scum. He's drastically impatient and highly critical, despising any course of action short of stalking right up to the bad guy and strangling him.

Despite his faults, though, Kull is truly a good man at heart. Sometimes good guys don't wear white and act nice, after all. He strives to make the lives of innocent people better, and is more than willing to sacrifice himself to a noble cause. His loyalty is undying, for all his lack of social skills. He knows how to have a good time, and can be surprisingly understanding at times. He tends to be greedy, not much for sharing food nor glory, but he's always more than willing to share (profanity laced) encouragement and advice. When it comes to animals, he seems to have a soft spot. Kull gets along well with most creatures, until he kills and eats them for protein.

Habits: Kull tends to shudder, jerk or twitch with frenetic energy whenever he feels like he's about to get a chance to fight. He often tosses around loud, creative expletives, especially during combat.

Childhood: Kull went through the old Spartan glut, you know. Training as soon as he was of age, fighting wild animals bare-handed, killing men on a battlefield when he was a teen. Sure, there are some nice old stories of his feats and adventures, but he's not here to tell history. He's here to make it.

Adulthood: Served as a mercenary for several years, and then joined up with the Empire of the Crimson Throne. He helped them win a critical battle and was thus promoted to Captain. He'd conked a fuck-ton of baddies, got hitched with a woman as crazy as he was, you get the idea. He never had any silly dramatized moments, no whiny tears in the rain. He never even had any rivals, or a nemesis. Whenever an enemy jumped up, Kull simply knocked them back down. Needless to say, he's very good at his job.

Theme Song:

Of Monsters and Men [Modern Fantasy]

Just so you know, I'm not trying to change this roleplay into a horror story or anything like that.

Of Monsters and Men [Modern Fantasy]

Deep below Hallesdale there was a cavern. In the 1850's it had been full of gold, which of course had been nearly all mined up. Nearly. Over half the prospectors had vanished in the expansive, mazelike network of dripping tunnels and gaping holes. It would have been easy to get lost for good there, even in a group. Rest had decided it was a cursed place and had left the site to go home. Four hundred and seventy of them. Over the next fifty years, those who had returned to their families had gone missing too. Them, and every occupant in the structure they had lived in. Homes emptied. Apartment complexes left barren. Entire ritzy hotels had gone silent. They had left the blackness of the cavern, but it hadn't left them. Hadn't forgotten their scent.
Yes it had been a big deal back then, town criers barking out the mysterious tragedies until their lungs were sore. But time had a way of hiding things, plopping them into obscurity. It hadn't been a war, afterall. Humans never forgot wars.

A mossy skull rolled down a pale yellow mountain. It was no mountain of stone, but of bones. As high as a pyramid. The dark thing on top shifted and flopped restlessly, a ribcage tumbling down after the skull. It stirred and awoke. A whirring, a flapping. No excitement, only a dull ardor. Cleaving through the musty air, through slimy tunnels and snaking passages, and then straight up. It went towards pinprick of light, like a single star in an empty universe.

The janitor of Hallesdale, Hubert Baterman, sighed as he trudged across the empty hallway, contemplating yet another day that he couldn't live out his dream of being a concert pianist. He felt like a Squidward. Oh yes he had seen many episodes of Spongebob. How could he not, when his four year old boy never stopped watching that show?

He opened his janitorial closet and stepped in to put up a broom.

"Shit monkeys!"

He stepped in alright. And his boot had plunged right through the old wooden floor and into a hole. Weren't these places supposed to have concrete foundations!? Bracing his hands on the wall, he pulled his foot out and contemplated just how much trouble the college would be in for this. What if a hurricane came? Without a solid foundation it'd...

Baterman's flesh crawled up his arms. Huge goose pimples erupted up and down his body as the hair on the back of his neck stood up. A strange vibration, very faint, had passed through him. It felt bad. A chilled wind came up through the hole and he shuddered. The wind was stale, musky, drenched in old fear. Then, the oddest thing happened. Everything went black and he felt weightless. He looked up, squinting against the rushing air to see a circle of light growing rapidly smaller, until it was a pinprick. There was an intense pressure on his ankle, like a clamp. At last his senses returned, and he screamed. Baterman would go on screaming even after they landed, even as it went to work on him. He'd scream until his vocal cords broke.

It cared little for the noise the soft little biped made. What it did care about was his smell. He had the scent of a child and woman on his clothing. Perhaps from the hug he had shared with his loved ones this morning before heading off to work.

It was a cool night, brisk and moonless. That evening a shadow passed over the Baterman household. In two days the media would be all over the disappearances, but there was little chance it would be connected to a hole in a college janitorial closet. At least, not connected by ignorant humans...

The Hidden Ones

Alright, I think everything is correct now.