HereComesTheSnow

Lostman Graffiti [Urban Fantasy]

Another fighter, how fun!

Lostman Graffiti [Urban Fantasy]

part time that is one hour away from being full time hits the soul different

Lostman Graffiti [Urban Fantasy]

Looks fun! I think the “failure of a human” thing is an interesting thread of commonality to pull on.

Lostman Graffiti [Urban Fantasy]

I don't think Iwao would have met the Lostman yet, and as much as I enjoy a good fight, the ideal would be to see character arcs move forward and interact, if that makes sense. I was pretty drawn to the "character-driven" aspect.

Lostman Graffiti [Urban Fantasy]

Okay, bit of a preview done. I think I could make this work with most prompts, and I'm willing to fine-tune further if necessary.

I coulda been a contender...

Name
Arizawa, Iwao
Facade
The first thing people notice about Iwao is his bird’s nest of dyed blonde hair, almost indulgently stereotypical of a yankii or other such delinquent— but the second is his eyes, hollow, earthy, missing a certain spark to them. He doesn’t bother with talking tough or picking fights, though his now-habitual coarse manner of speech and bold yellow hair can sometimes pick the fight for him, regardless of his intentions. In any case, one look at his dense knuckles reveals (to the observant sort) a long story of thrown fists. A bit tall and definitely wiry, his youthful looks are usually in a decidedly neutral, melancholic cast. He’s a rather reserved guy, not one to really speak unless spoken to, and rarely smiles or mentions friends. In class, he can’t seem to focus, but he routinely attends in spite of his inevitable checking out. At night, he runs, hands infallibly wrapped up as though he were still a boxer. A slave to his own habits, he listlessly drifts in and out of each day on automatic, solemnly bereft of the grand dream he once held. It's only on those nightly sprints through Tenoroshi's winding streets that he seems to recapture some semblance of vigor— pounding down the road, it's as if he's both chasing something a long way away and fleeing another nipping at his heels.

To he whose ambitions are "greatness or nothing", they must never fumble that opportunity to be great. Rarely can they ever bear to be anything else.
Core
Street gossip. Idle rumors. Urban legends. They’re interesting, they’re different, and most importantly, they have nothing to do with the hole he dug for himself. They are, without a doubt, there to be encountered. What more reason could a guy need?

Lostman Graffiti [Urban Fantasy]

More seriously, I kinda like the urban exploration club, vigilantes, or shiftmates ideas. As funny as a love d20 is conceptually, I'm not too sure my dude would fit into it.

Lostman Graffiti [Urban Fantasy]

tentatively interested. got a small start for a character idea. cool with the university student age range, not sure on having met lostman.

Blades of Iron Roses: An Anime-Inspired Fantasy Knight RP

what to do about this...

Dungeon Clearer! The Wonderful World of an Adventurer

From beneath the hood, his eyes continued their sweep of the path ahead.

Blades of Iron Roses: An Anime-Inspired Fantasy Knight RP

Gerard Segremors

@VitaVitaAR@Krayzikk

He had figured as much. Wasn't much else to be done until they had tangible answers from the captured assailant, save for tightening the net. His amber eyes darted across the room, searching for possible holes. He found little— The Crown Knights weren't just for show. All main exits were accounted for...

"Understood." he nodded swiftly nonetheless. He'd suss out a good place to post himself, of that much he was certain—

"Sir Nicomede," an armored hand fell upon the shoulder of the closest senior knight, even as the bulk of Gerard's body continued past him. "You're a gentler hand than I when it comes to the people here. More experienced." He spoke evenly, perfectly assured of his words. There was a certain bearing that he'd noticed the man carry, one that spoke to more than simple experience within this setting and crowd. It was much more like Sir Fleuri's... he didn't merely know how to pay service to one of them— he was comfortable amongst them.

Like they were his own.

"I'll not let a soul past me."

He was obviously an intelligent man. Probably more than Gerard himself. He'd understand what the words meant.

Managing them in this panic and coaxing out accounts was far more his speed than Gerard's. Above all else, he trusted his seniors with the delicate aspects of what was required of them. You need not a broadsword for the job of a razor. He could do it in a pinch, but there wasn't sense in wasting energy that could be used to fortify the perimeter further. Not when many present could do it better. As the venerable Sir Indrau said, they needed to stay vigilant.

The entrance to those magnificent gardens was wide and grandiose, primed to display their beauty to all who would visit.

It also made for a lot of space to take up with steel and manpower. He could tighten that up a bit.

With swift, purposeful strides, he continued his march forward.