Gentlemanvaultboy Member

**Name**: Johann Strauss **Picture/Description**: A tall boy with long gangly limbs and shot, curly blond hair and green eyes. His uniform is crisp, clean, and obviously well cared for. **Age**: 16 **Nationality**: English ** Weapon of Choice**: Main Gauche. **Magic Specialization**: Sound Manipulation, most notable a family ability to control the "Volume" of anything they cut. Particularly sharp swings of the weapon are able to unleash bullets and waves of ear-splitting sound, or quite an entire area. But none of that matters, because Johann has discovered that if you flick the weapon just right you can make music with it. **Bio**: Any discussion of Johann must first begin with his family, who went into service in WWI as spies, assassins, and infiltrators for the emperor of their native Austria upon the discovery of their ability. The family took great pride in serving the emperor, and were shaken when the empire broke apart at the end of WWI. During WWII, like many Austrian monarchists who opposed the Nazi regime, they joined the exile community in London where they were contacted by British secret service and stabbed Nazis until the end of the war. As the war came to an end, the family split in two. Some member wanted to return and rebuild in Austria while others had found love, happiness, and prosperity in England. The two groups parted ways amicably, the Austrian half settling down out of the cloak and dagger game while the British half was repeatedly tapped by MI6 during the Cold War and still enjoys a good relationship with them to this day. Enter Johann, born to the British side of the family, and expected to go into the "Family Business." Drilled from a young age in both espionage and his Blade _Impulse Phenomena_ he was found to be a solid block of wood in the former and a downright prodigy in the latter, good enough to get him into a very prestigious academy despite his lackadaisical attitude. **Other**: He carries another weapon for the purposes of dueling even though he rarely if ever does so, a rapier, because his main weapon is one typically used in the off hand.

He leans back quickly as the dagger comes out and puts his free hand on his chin to consider. He looks around at the little piles of stones around the crossroads. It had taken him literally hours to find stones within the right size and shape to suit his purposes, and even longer to march off to the woods to get sticks for making the victim proxies, and his window for the ritual was rapidly closing and the stars wouldn't be in the proper alignment for another sixteen years. On the other hand there was an adventurer here and she'd probably do something to stop Yubar the Eightfold Terror from taking his place as sovereign ruler of the eight corners of existence. He had personally seen what happened to the people that screw up performing this ritual even slightly. Well, the aftermath. He'd been in the bathroom. There was really no point in taking chances, was there? Besides which, something might happen to this person if they trumped off all alone into an undead filled ruin all alone and that would just eat at his Conscience. "Yeah, no, undead, I could probably do something about those." He said, walking over to one of the stone piles and kicking it over. There was a feeling like space being snapped liked an elastic waistband as magic was released from the circle, every rock tower spilling over along with it. He picked back up his shovel, spun it once, a laid it on his shoulder. The end of the world could wait for sixteen years, right now it was time for high adventure. It wasn't every day, after all, that someone wanted to include him in anything. "So, meeting up with anyone before heading dungeon delving?" He asked.

**Name**: Bishop Bishop Bishop **Appearance**: A pale, balding man in his mid-twenties to early thirties with clammy looking skin and a patch of scraggly black hair set upon his scalp. His skin seems to be pulled tight to his bones, but he has a perfect set of teeth. Wears a long black robe, of course with a hood, fastened on by at length of metal belt buckles each bearing the symbol of a different esoteric order. He carries a sliver shovel upon his shoulder and moves as though there's a tune in his heart only he can understand. **History**: As his name might suggest, Bishops mother and father had very much decided what he was going to be well before he was born. Devout members of the Aphrodite church, Goddess of love, they spend his formative years grooming him for a position in it. At twelve years old, having been thoroughly spoiled on the idea of unconditional love by sheer exposure, he did what anyone who wants to stick it religious parents would: he ran away from home and joined the first cult that would take him. This happened to be the Cult of G'Narrel, a minor goblin deity know for punching humans in the trousers. Though he was human, his fellow goblin members saw how great his enthusiasm for the Cult was and he excelled, rising through the ranks of the church until a group of adventurers showed up, killed his fellow cult members, and returned him to his loving parents. They had believed him kidnapped in the night. Undeterred, Bishop again ran away and joined a new cult; "The Esoteric Order of GhARRRRGGGHHHHHH!!!!!", called such because no one ever made it past the first syllable of its gods name. He quite enjoyed himself in this cult as well, until he stood to close to the door the day they were going to sacrifice the princess of a neighboring Kingdom. The door that conveniently slammed him into the wall when the adventurers kicked it open, knocking him out and saving his life as the rest of the cult was slaughtered and the princess rescued. Refusing to be cowed by this, he joined the Serpent Riders later that same day. Less than a month later they had been killed to a man while raiding a castle, except for Bishop because his serpent had choked to death the night before. He joined up with the Astral Society of Tallbrook and partook in their mass suicide to summon their Star God, except he had accidentally gotten sawdust instead of the poison powder he was suppose to inhale. The god was still summoned in a weakened state and was finished off, along with the rest of the Society, by adventurer as he walked off in a huff. He put on a wig and joined the Night Sisters and did pretty well there until he was discovered, chased out of their secluded hot spring retreat by the entire gathering, and watched as a sudden rock-slide send them tumbling down into a ravine. This kept happening until Bishop developed a sort of reputation, and cults started baring him entry out of fear. It was at this point any sane man would have called it quits and gone home. Bishop, however, was not quite a sane man due to all the esoteric knowledge he had rattling around in his head. He determined that, if no cult was going to let him usher in an age of darkness with them, he would his own one-man cult and bring about the destruction of the world himself. His journey has taken him far and wide across in search power and knowledge to bring this about, and now his wandering bring him to....hmm? Where was this place again? **Personality**: Despite his look Bishop is actually a very sunny, polite, courteous, generous man because some things you learn as a child just stick. He doesn't see anything wrong with giving away his earthly possessions and time to those less fortunate because it doesn't matter. The planet is going to be destroyed sooner or later, what do the dark forces care that he's helped an old lady carry her bags. She asked him after all, to refuse would have been rude. He is jittery though, energetic, and throws himself 120% into whatever task is at hand. He has the sort of focus that only the insane develop, shutting out everything else once he engages something. **Abilities**: Bishop has been a member of more cults and secret societies than most people can name, and is likely the last surviving member of every single one of them. His mind is an amazing sponge for rituals and secret arts, and he can bring to bare the strangest of magic if he can get it out of his mouth properly. Being a veteran of many secret societies has made him very good at ciphers and codes. He's shock resistant, as he's built up an immunity to sanity destroying effects by exposure. [Theme Tune](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XxScTbIUvoA)

"Ruins?" He asks, confused, before his eyes flicked to the daggers on her belt. "No, yes, ruins, of course. I am very interested in ruins." He looks at her extended hand, then looks back down at the dolls. He weights his option, and then elects to let his shovel clatter to the ground in lieu of releasing his iron grip on the eight of them. He takes her hand in a vigorous shake. "Yes, My name is Bishop. Bishop Bishop. _Bishop_ Bishop Bishop, at your service. You could say I have a great interest places of antiquity."

Yeah, okay. That helped a lot, color me intrigued.

There was a crossroads ahead, one road a old worn flagstone intersecting the dusty road of travelers. A marker sat at the intersection, time having long ago worn away the writing upon it. But as she came upon the old stone marker something else became apparent. Stones, stacked in front of it. Eight stones, roughly the same size, stacked one of top of the other in a small tower. There were more as well, eight stacks in all around the crossroads in equal distance from one another, all roughly the same height, each one containing eight stones. Then, breaking through the quiet loneliness of the road, there came a whistling. At present, the source of the merry little tune came into sight over the crest of a yonder hill off the the right of the road. He was an gangling looking young man, with ashy skin and deep sunken eyes, his hair where it hadn't prematurely balded an oily tangled black mess. He had a long black robe, the hem and sleeves stained, tattered, and dirty, and a strange metal belt that seemed to be made of belt clasps. Despite his sickly appearance though there was an undoubtable bounce in his step that caused his strange belt to jingle as he walked, especially as he got closer. Over his shoulder he carried a meticulously polished shovel and under his arm looked like a collection of stick dolls, eight in all. He walks right up to the crossroads in some sort of bubbly trance, his focus on the crossroads so intense that he doesn't even notice Pomona until he stepped onto the road, whereupon the latest whistle dies in his throat and he stops short. He just stares at her like a deer in the headlights for a few moment, then glances down at his dolls. This close, they look to have been tied together with his own hair. He looks back up her, then back down at them, then from side to side before again back at her. He clears his throat a few times. "Good afternoon." He says.

Whenever you're ready.

I'm not really clear on the magic mechanics. Is the magic in the character or in the weapon, or is it some combination of the two? Basically, is it: - Character picks up a different weapon and the magic they can do changes. - Character picks up a different weapon and the magic they can do is the same and behaves in the same way. - Character picks up a different weapon and the magic stays the same but behaves in a different way? Or - Character picks up a different weapon and just flat out can't use magic with it?

Real name: Tyler Bacon Age: 29 Appearance: Tall, sort of out of shape Caucasian male with short brown hair. Built like someone who has only just recently started to show the effects of steady exorcise. Personality: It is very rare to see Tyler Bacon truly happy, but on the other hand it's rare to see him truly angry. He mostly seems to exist in a state of perpetually perplexed melancholy, the strongest emotion he ever shows is annoyance. A very practically minded person whose sense of wonder seems to have shriveled up and died a long time ago, he's liable to be more impressed with someone starting a fire with a flint and steel than, say, obliterating and entire countryside with a concentrated blast of it. Generally stupid, having a very simple view of most all situations. Doesn't like to bother people with his problems. History: Tyler is a traveler, though not by his own choice. A delivery man and furniture mover, he hit it off with a rich heiress named Stella Trombold while helping her move in to her new mansion. For the life of them their friends could not understand what she sees in him, but prevailing theory is that she enjoys his simplicity and the fact that he doesn't talk back much. Stella herself is a bit of an adventurer, and Tyler dutifully gets dragged along to the four corners of the Earth by her. He would much rather they be at home, doing something simple like watching television and while he's sure the bug and frogs and things are lovely if you like them, he would much rather have a sandwich. He tells her these things as often as they come up, but never actually finds it in his heart to refuse. He is currently on another vacation right at this moment, Stella having given him a little free time to wonder about on his own. Starting items: Small traveling bag, Guide to (Wherever he is before the first jump), three sandwiches, 2 bottled water, $650 cash allowance, small umbrella, cellphone. Ability: [b]Phantom Limb[/b] A third hand that floats about independently of Tyler, controlled by his will. About as strong and dexterous as a normal human hand, but doesn't get tired and is much faster. Able to move freely through non-living things. Tyler always knows where the hand is.

Name: Samuel "Shemp" Thistle Age: 16 Appearance: 5 foot seven Caucasian male with a solid musculature and short black hair. Blue eyes. It's clear that his nose has been broken at least once. Animal: Mantis Shrimp Bio: "Hey, buddy, can have a second. No, no, no, put that down, I'm not on that list. Well you know, the list...the list....y'know, of potential subjects? Don't look so surprised, there are a bunch of teenagers locked up in here with nothing to do but talk. Did you really think it wouldn't get out? No wait, look, come back, come back, no need to unleash the hounds it's just a rumor. Though, seeing how you reacted..." "Look buddy, you seem like a straight shooter so I'm gonna shoot straight with you: I want in. No, look, I'm only not on that list because I'm getting out in a few weeks. Listen, all I did was punch the wrong guys son, it wasn't even a real fight, the dickhead cut me in line and then looked all smug about it. Maybe I kicked him too, doesn't matter, point is his dad was the district attorney so here I am. But my lawyer uncovered the dirty business, got me a retrial, I'm through that and out in a few weeks. But, see, there's this guy in block D. Sex offender, real creep, I could go mess him up and that's felony assault right there, double my original sentence. Enough for you, right?" "Wait, wait, wait, look, okay, let me just list the advantages, okay? Reason number one, I'm not a basehead. Reason number two, I'm not some psycho murderer who could potentially just, y'know, go off at any moment. Number three, I want to do this so I won't be resentful or nothing. I won't be plotting your death and planning to escape or anything like that. Reason number four; I watch a lot of animal planet. Look, help me out here! I'm in my twelfth foster home, I'm crap in school, I've got no prospects now or in the near future. I have no future but to be some wage-slave, moving boxes or digging holes for a living. So I don't care if you have to inject me with praying mantis DNA, or irradiate a hyena and let it maul me, or dump me into a vat of molten whale, whatever, I don't care, I want it." "What do you say?"