Eisenhorn

Hunters of Remnant: Bleeding Hearts (High Casual/Low Advanced, RWBY inspired)

Who could say no to some RWBY? Not I, that is for sure.

Warhammer 40k: The Chaos Incursion

@Andromedai I can always help out, should you need it.

'No Country of Mine' - Valo's Continental War

I'll be sitting down to get my character cranked out after my job interview today, just checking in so ya'll know whats going on here on my end.

'No Country of Mine' - Steampunk/Military Idea of some sorts?

Well this is certainly an fascinating idea, consider me interested, sure as sure.

The Dirt Town Orphans - animeish, high fantasy gang RP [Always accepting]

-Ansgar-

It seemed that either Senna's sense of humor was as off as his was apparently, or perhaps it was a necessary evil, given the oppressiveness and general dark mood that seemed to be around the place right now. Understandable, given the situation, but certainly a dark mood none the less. Ansgar, lacking the ability to utilize facial expressions to respond, seemed to shrug idly, head cocking slightly to his left with his response following, blank as ever. "Those that lose their ability to laugh, even in the face of grim truth, have lost their ability to fight. To laugh, is to be unbeaten yet. To answer, though, it is a rare humor for a rare situation, no harm assuming no such thing was around." Whether that was an indirect jab at the sharp exhale from the approaching boy, Sai he suspected the name was if memory served him well, or a more general statement was well and truly up to interpretation. However, things would present a rather interesting train of thought, brought up despite the flirting manner that Senna decided to engage Sai with. While thankful such attention was not on him, distracting as it no doubt was, thought continued none the less.

Both of them brought up good points, in their own regards. Larger group did mean a larger target, to put it in a shorter set of words. Yet, he recalled an old phrase he had heard at one point. United we stand, divided we are conquered. Opposing arguments, pushing for greater purchase in his mind. Certainly, it would be easier to cut and run, go their separate ways and defy the wishes of the dead. Yet, such things, he had this feeling, would not bode well for those defiant in regards to that mentioned wish. So he had his options, run and try to make ends meet on his own, or stand his ground and see what happened. The gangs would be descending soon, intent on scavenging anything worth a damn before leaving the rest to rot. Focusing on the problems of now were good, he could put off his guilt and regret for a more appropriate time. Right now, he needed to focus on a plan. Whether that was stand with the orphans, or cut and run like Senna had suggested, was yet to be seen. He was, as they say, on the fence regarding the matter. Both had their merits, and their flaws, and had to be treated as such.

"Though indirect, she makes a valid point. Not all of those here are team players, and even those that are may prove to be less than useful. Whether we work together well or not, has nothing to do with anything except the will to do it. And that is in dangerously low amounts, Old Man Fritz's passing saw to that. It will take either charisma, or good manipulation." Ansgar had gone into thinking mode, fully shutting away his emotions now that he had a problem to work with. Part of the reason he held himself so needlessly high in regards to maturity, in comparison to many, was his thinking. Always working, always learning, couldn't be acting like a child then, right? Thinking on those present, having missed their hidden listener due to his own thinking train going far too fast, he could see both Sai and Senna leading. The former, willingness and, possibly, determination enough to see this done. The latter, manipulation, she was a trickster as far as he understood, and decieving and conning people took either talent in charisma, to pull the wool down, or manipulation to make them believe the wool. Both ways would work, and he brought it up idly, as part of his looking at the problem.

"First issue, leadership. Likely needs to be an older orphan, more experience and all that. Two approaches, deception or charisma. Brute force won't work with either, forcing heart broken kids won't be easy. Might make them more easily controlled though, especially if results are accomplished or promised. I would guess either of you two could pull off leading, or if anyone is trying to organize that screaming mess back there, if they succeed, could do it too. Besides that, how we intend to make ends meet. I am not aware of how the Old Man funded this, but we will need to either keep funding this place, or find someplace new to squat." With the thinking and considerations, Ansgar drummed the handle of his cane with two fingers, tapping out a steady rhythm while he thought. Where it would go, well, it would depend on how the others bothered reacting to his thinking out loud, as it were, and burn the bridges from there.

The Dirt Town Orphans - animeish, high fantasy gang RP [Always accepting]

@Rune_Alchemist

Thus is the wonders of gallows humor. For when you can joke and laugh at the things grim in life, you have conquered those things. And its funny to wind up those that get all wound up about it. Mostly the latter.

The Dirt Town Orphans - animeish, high fantasy gang RP [Always accepting]

Alright, got my post out for Ansgar. Showcasing a bit of his unique brand of humor too, since why not.

The Dirt Town Orphans - animeish, high fantasy gang RP [Always accepting]

-Ansgar-

Curse the damned old man, Ansgar considered bitterly, seeing Fritz, the one that had held this orphanage together as long as he had, barely clinging to life. The masked orphan, both hands resting on the cane that never left his person, had sequestered himself to the rear ranks of gathered children. To be honest, he had almost missed this little gathering, busy as he was tending to the latest needlework that he had been busy with. To be even more blunt, if it hadn't been Old Man Fritz, well, he would have seriously considered not showing at all. Yet, this was a man that, for better or worse, had been raising Ansgar for as long as he could readily remember. Despite disagreements, mostly on his side and not Fritz's side, the increasingly weathered, aged old man had done his best to keep up, tasking Mary with keeping up when the old man no longer could. Poor girl, Ansgar considered in hind sight, having to put up with his shenanigans. Usually, she had to try and drag him off from some project or another, which he responded to about as well as a common cat would to being dunked in water. In other words, rather poorly indeed.

Maybe that was why Ansgar was cursing Fritz on his death bed, he considered, going and dying, leaving so many lost and without their father, in every way that mattered. Places like this Orphanage were not commonplace, as far as Ansgar had been able to puzzle out, so it was an oddity that was passing away. His grip tightening on the head of his cane a bit more, the sound lost to the sounds of his fellow orphans, facing the fact they were going to be orphaned again. Was that why he cursed at Fritz, an old man about to die, for abandoning the lot of them? He wasn't sure, that tightness in his gut being a strange thing, something he was not used to as of late. Blinding himself with his busy work, ignoring the facts of what was coming. Out of everyone present, Ansgar had probably spent the least amount of time with Fritz in his final weeks. That thought was sobering and, more so than that, haunting, a man who had given everything to take care of him, left to swing in the breeze. Yet his words came forth none the less, despite his inner turmoil, bringing his attention to the pained, struggling words.

“Children…My time has come. I know that even without me saying, you rea-You realize that soon things will become very difficult for you. I tried to make some foundation for your future, but in this world nothing is certain.”

Nothing in this world was certain...Not quite accurate, but close enough to a truth that it wasn't worth quibbling over. Debating details with a dying man wasn't worth their breath. The idea though, was dubious at best. A group that's only tie together now being a common plight, and common loss, were not terribly binding things. His gaze, hidden though it was, found itself locked onto Fritz as he spoke, unable or unwilling to turn away despite himself.

“That is why I wanted to tell you, as my last lesson, to remain united. You are all young, and although there is a lot of potential among you, none of you is strong enough yet to face the challenges of this world alone. So remain together, cooperate, compensate for each other’s weaknesses and you will be able to survive and even thrive in this city.”

Young and full of potential, yet Ansgar could reckon that the only thing holding every single one of them together had been, at times, old man Fritz, so frail on his bed of death. Was it a nice ideal, something that could be striven for and, in better hands, accomplished? Certainly, but a group of soon to be reorphaned orphans that had some interesting, to put it mildly, interactions with one another was not such a group. He didn't expect the group to be able to hold it together, let alone so soon after Fritz's impending passing. He had this gut feeling, nothing solid, but something was lurking out there, waiting for the old man to pass so it could move in for itself. Yet, having grown up in a place he had kept wandering from, trying to figure out where he had come from before his memory started, he always found himself back here, despite overt claims and threats, even, of not coming back next time. Certainly, he could have made true on those things, yet here he was by a dying old man's death bed. Surrounded by borderline sobbing and crying children. Not that he had much room to talk, granted, but he wasn't being vocal about it.

That tightness, however, became a wrenching turn of a barbed knife as Ansgar watched the final breath pass from Fritz, a rattling final request, prompting screaming and sobbing from Mary, whilst the majority of the Orphans present also began sobbing and crying. Spirits, it was too much noise to bear. He could feel the dampness on his face, despite himself, yet his mask was impassive as ever, betraying nothing as he turned and quietly excused himself. He could not be grieving with this much noise, nor that openly. He could not afford himself that luxury, not with the times that were yet to come. If his gut was right, at any rate, and it hadn't led him astray yet. Well, besides staying here, but perhaps that was just his own prejudices coloring his outlook? Perhaps, perhaps not, what was fact was he was not going to subject himself to the overt wails of the majority. He would grieve later, locking down on his emotions yet again, well, thats what he told himself at any rate. But that rending feeling in his gut and his heart, like something terribly broken, lingered, refusing to pass, coupled with a haunting return of a thought.

"Spurned the old man as much as you ran off, now he is dead and gone. So much for apologies, hm?" Harsh, and bitter? Certainly, but dishonest? No, no it wasn't, Ansgar's face turning into a snarl, a strange visage under the mask what with the tears that were dampening his face, forcing those thoughts down. He would beat himself up later, with everyone grieving and sobbing, someone had to go about business as usual, right? The idea of leadership hadn't even come to mind yet, Ansgar was no leader, he sure wasn't much of a good follower either, yet that was what they were going to have to try and figure out in the coming days. Between the mourning, trying to move forward, contesting whatever came of Old Man Fritz's death as word spread, and whatever he couldn't see coming yet. He was no future reader, he would not want to be one either frankly, so all he could do was react as the punches came.

Yet, as the echoing raps of his cane no doubt alerted, Ansgar found he was not the only one to have excused themselves from the crying and sobbing room. One of the older girls, what was her name.... Svenna? Lenna? No, no.... Senna! That was it, probably, a name he barely had a face for. Maybe it was the rather emotional situation or his own preoccupation with keeping himself busy and working, but he tended to forget names as readily as not. He had half a mind to simply just keep walking, but, if the old man wanted them to stick together, just continuing to walk wouldn't have accomplished overly much, now would it? Ansgar's voice was, as always, muffled slightly by his mask, just enough to mask the emotion under the surface. Once again, finding himself thankful for that impassive facade, the words he spoke were, well, not the most tactful, yet spoken they were. "If I didn't know better, I would suggest the amount of wailing and sobbing would be loud enough to wake the dead in there."

The Dirt Town Orphans - animeish, high fantasy gang RP [Always accepting]

@Medjedovic I couldn't possibly imagine why the younger kids would not like him, not at all!

The Dirt Town Orphans - animeish, high fantasy gang RP [Always accepting]

Ansgar

Ansgar seems to keep finding copies of his attire that fit him, or making them, something that people tend to note on a routine occasion. These thing are not as hard as one might think, however, he has reached the end of his growth spurts and will likely not grow much taller through natural growht. However, he loathes the fact that the gift of magic has Tainted him, and routinely covers every inch of his body as to prevent this from being shown to the outside world. Under his mask is a rather serpentine appearance, green eyes narrow and reptilian in form and face lean, with a predatory look that is at odds with his normal way of acting. From the neck down, he has a great deal of scales covering his body, a dull sort of iridescent that, despite the normal glean such color has, does not shine if exposed to light. Beyond these scales, his gloved hands are rough, almost dangerously so if forcefully applied, hence the gloves.
Name: Ansgar

Age: 15

Gender: Male

Background:
As far as Ansgar knows, he has always been at the Orphanage with Old Man Fritz leading the way, not to say that Ansgar always got along terribly well with his caretakers. Not to say he disliked the old man, not by any stretch, but the boy always preferred his own methods and flexibility towards happenings, unwittingly taking after his biological father, who's fate was hidden from the boy. Despite being told little and growing up alongside other orphans, Ansgar knew things were awry. He never seemed to excel in any field he applied himself to, unlike many of his peers, yet never seemed to be abnormally weak either. However, two key things seemed to drive him, and prevented him from leaving the Orphanage since he was convinced of his ability to do so already, despite his early years. As such, he tended to hold himself to a standard of maturity above his peers, wearing a mask of hand crafted design to hide himself, from what was as much of a guessing game as anyone could guess. Yet, every morning he had not left, despite mutterings during arguments or disagreements of having no good reason to remain.

Despite the stand offish nature, Ansgar will go and help those around him, often times tending to clothing, injuries, or miscellaneous things that seem to be often forgotten. He prefers to keep himself busy, oddly focused on work for his age, keeping himself focused on one task or another. During his free time, he often practices his Gift, or his needlework, repairing his clothing or mask with needle and thread. Quite the busy body and needlessly serious, are two very good ways to describe the lad. What humor most do hear from him is often an early form of gallows humor, poking fun at things that really, really are not funny at all, which creates dubious amounts of response from peers. He does mean well by it, it just rarely comes across as such.

Equipment: Sturdy old Cane, personal locket, sewing kit (needles, thread, bobby pins, small rusty scissors)

Level: 1

Attribute: Fluid

Skills:
Intuitive - Ansgar is not necessarily the smartest person in the world, some might even mock him for being below average. However, what no one can argue is that he has a natural knack for feeling out a situation or problem with people, not literally mind you, and just seems to know things at times, though the explanation of such is often beyond him. Deception seems to not be as effective as average, Ansgar picking up on tells on an instinctive level, and either calling them out on it or otherwise not bothering to believe a word coming out of their mind.

Dexterous - When it comes to fine motor skills, whether it be needle work or handling delicate materials, Ansgar has a naturally precise, steady hand. The lad seems to take a great deal of pride in his deft, steady handiwork, even when it is benign or otherwise simple things such as stitching up someone's torn clothes or putting together a broken toy. He even has some basic locks figured out, enjoying the challenge of getting into places he should not be rather than merely trying to get into places he isn't allowed for ulterior motives. Often times, he confirms he has it unlocked and leaves it, much to the chagrin of any who have found their things unlocked but undisturbed. Mostly others who also don't have terribly sturdy locks.

Slippery - Not in a literal sense mind you, but in a figurative manner. Ansgar is hard to pin down, and harder to catch when he doesn't want to be. He has this way of worming his way out of someone's grasp, evading others that try to catch him at games, and just seems to be right infuriating to catch. This is further compounded by his intuition, which leads him to instinctively avoiding trouble he is trying to evade, ducking and dodging when others are getting grabbed. To be fair, he has no qualms with brisk cheap shots to unmentionable areas to get out of someone's grasp, but who's counting, honestly?

Affinity: Water

Gift:
Ansgar has a knack for mending the wounds of others, but not in the traditional method of focusing himself on the injury and closing the wound. Rather, he finds himself able to manipulate blood, specifically the water content of blood, his own most naturally but, if he were to lay hands on someone else right now, he could tweak their blood. Most of the time, he can convince blood, whether his or that of someone within his grasp, to be more cooperative towards the healing process, not so eagerly rushing away from its container or aiding in the binding process more easily. He could theoretically do some damage with this, or even reach out farther, but for now, he is limited to one person at a time, and they have to be within his reach.