MULTI_MEDIA_MAN Member
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Nope, shit's broke yo. Mizu, get on that chop chop <3
What was going on? Just. What the hell were the teachers doing? He got near the dunk tank just in time to see the principal and vice principal drying each other off. That....that was enough to weird him out. These were grown men. Grown men who could dry themselves off. But no, NO, that wasn't the end of it. They were drying each other awkwardly. REALLY, REALLY awkwardly. If it wasn't obvious enough, everybody else's reactions only served to confirm it. Jesus, Mr Hawthorne, keep it in your damn pants. I mean, you too? He'd already known that Colonel Kirschenzweig was...of an alternate sexuality, but the man was a celebrity. His life wasn't very private, though he was never open enough about it for the Marines to care. He kept his sexuality to himself while he'd served, obviously. If he hadn't, well...he wouldn't have served. Don't Ask Don't Tell wasn't around any more, but it had for most of the time he was serving.
No. No, oh come on, not you too Colonel. Jacob heard more than he needed to of the Colonel and Flynn's conversation...what the hell was wrong with his teachers?! Did they not see the student standing clearly in their midst?! Apparently not. Whatever. Coughing, Jacob climbed up into the tank when Acacia gave him the go-ahead. His backpack and towel were by the table that Mr Hawthorne and Principal Aldrin were near, exposing his body to the world. Ugh...he hated this. He didn't prepare for this, and his navel wasn't shaved. He was just lucky he had muscles and not a gut. He wasn't sculpted like a god, but his four upper abdominal muscles were plainly visible to anybody watching. There was a small trail of hair going from the aforementioned place to under his bathing suit and he couldn't help but blush, but at least they couldn't see his back. That would be a damned war crime for anybody to have to see.
When August stepped up to the proverbial plate, Jacob shrugged. Fuckin' figures it'd be that little...just get it over with dammit. Suddenly, he was much, much less excited about the dunk tank. Yes, it was totally personal. Jacob's life with August was...problematic at best. His roommate had already gotten involved in his usual shenanigans, and almost dragged Jacob down with him when they got yelled at.
One, and a miss. Two, and a second miss. Jacob almost started to pray...then he was in the water. "AHH!" He called out as his body hit the water. He involuntarily shivered at the coldness before turning around and climbing out of the dunk tank. He made it as quick as possible, lest anybody see his scars. He didn't even get them from some horrible or badass reason, like being abused or getting hurt in a hunting accident or something like that. Nope, it was a boring and uninteresting story that only served to show that Jacob was absurdly hard to kill. Whatever. He got out and made his way over to his towel quickly, running it across his body and covering himself with it. There. Done. Even that little bit of fun got screwed up. And for some reason, he was hungry. Really...REALLY fucking hungry. What? Why was he so hungry? Whatever, Mr Hawthorne cooked steak. I'm just gonna eat that. Now. Damn I'm hungry.
Making his way over to the steak, back in his shoes and socks with his towel draped over his torso, he grabbed some steak and a drink of water. Making his way back to his backpack, he cursed when he realized he'd have to fish for his pills inside his uniform. Dammit Rockwell, you done fucked up now. Pray nobody asks what you're doing...
No. No, oh come on, not you too Colonel. Jacob heard more than he needed to of the Colonel and Flynn's conversation...what the hell was wrong with his teachers?! Did they not see the student standing clearly in their midst?! Apparently not. Whatever. Coughing, Jacob climbed up into the tank when Acacia gave him the go-ahead. His backpack and towel were by the table that Mr Hawthorne and Principal Aldrin were near, exposing his body to the world. Ugh...he hated this. He didn't prepare for this, and his navel wasn't shaved. He was just lucky he had muscles and not a gut. He wasn't sculpted like a god, but his four upper abdominal muscles were plainly visible to anybody watching. There was a small trail of hair going from the aforementioned place to under his bathing suit and he couldn't help but blush, but at least they couldn't see his back. That would be a damned war crime for anybody to have to see.
When August stepped up to the proverbial plate, Jacob shrugged. Fuckin' figures it'd be that little...just get it over with dammit. Suddenly, he was much, much less excited about the dunk tank. Yes, it was totally personal. Jacob's life with August was...problematic at best. His roommate had already gotten involved in his usual shenanigans, and almost dragged Jacob down with him when they got yelled at.
One, and a miss. Two, and a second miss. Jacob almost started to pray...then he was in the water. "AHH!" He called out as his body hit the water. He involuntarily shivered at the coldness before turning around and climbing out of the dunk tank. He made it as quick as possible, lest anybody see his scars. He didn't even get them from some horrible or badass reason, like being abused or getting hurt in a hunting accident or something like that. Nope, it was a boring and uninteresting story that only served to show that Jacob was absurdly hard to kill. Whatever. He got out and made his way over to his towel quickly, running it across his body and covering himself with it. There. Done. Even that little bit of fun got screwed up. And for some reason, he was hungry. Really...REALLY fucking hungry. What? Why was he so hungry? Whatever, Mr Hawthorne cooked steak. I'm just gonna eat that. Now. Damn I'm hungry.
Making his way over to the steak, back in his shoes and socks with his towel draped over his torso, he grabbed some steak and a drink of water. Making his way back to his backpack, he cursed when he realized he'd have to fish for his pills inside his uniform. Dammit Rockwell, you done fucked up now. Pray nobody asks what you're doing...
Name: Palesean of the Guard
Age: 37
Appearance:
Palesean stands at about 65 inches (165 cm) and weighs in at 160 pounds (73 kg). His eyes are a calm hazel color, and his soft brown hair typically is close-cut to his head. He has a small scar on his left cheek from a minor training accident.
Style/Levels: Shields- Level 5. Swords- Level 5. Fisticuffs- Level 1. Combat Magic- Level 1.
Current Abilities: Shields Level 1
Grand Aegis : Palesean's shield projects a visible field of energy that effectively acts as though the shield is nearly five times its usual size, which is already great. This is most useful for protecting allies and shielding against arrows.
Stonewall : By planting his shield into the ground, the hunk of steel gains the immovable aspect of the Earth itself, preventing even the greatest forces from budging it.
Radiant Defense : Palesean's shield projects a non-visible field of energy which attracts the attention of enemies. When used in tandem with other Etras, this ability can be used to draw heavy attacks away from other people.
Tower Assault : Palesean swings his shield as if it were a bat or mace, clearing a wide area in front of him and causing serious pain. Without this Etra, the severe weight of the shield would likely tear his arm off if he attempted such an attack.
Iron Soul : By literally becoming one with his shield for a short time, Palesean is able to withstand attacks that could kill a normal man without breaking a sweat. However, he cannot move while this Etra is active.
Weapons: Bulwark
Soulreaper
Bulwark is a four and a half foot tall (137cm) shield that his about 18 inches (46cm) across. Palesean can fully protect himself behind this shield by crouching, allowing him to hide behind it against many attacks, though sometimes he'll need to activate Grand Aegis to extend his area of protection.
Soulreaper is a three-foot (91cm) bastard sword that Palesean can wield in his right hand, or using both hands if he is without Bulwark.
Personality: Palesean is a kind, loving and protective man, which comes from his upbringing. He believes in judging people by their actions, and doesn't hesitate to judge people himself. He is quick to make friends, often lending a helping hand or sympathetic voice to those around him. At the same time, he is a bit of a jokester, though he knows when it's time to get serious and crack some skulls rather than spit out a one-liner. He's not prone to outbursts of anger, and he'll try to stop a fight before it happens, though he has no qualms about fighting. He just prefers not to get his sword and shield bloody.
History: Palesean's family name is literally "Of the Guard." His father was a guardsman, his grandfather, his great-grandfather, his great-great-grandfather, etc. The Guard lineage is supposed to be at least three to four centuries long. Nobody questioned it. They were generally a strong, hearty family, getting good exercise and natural talents in some form of martial art. Some were more inclined to hunt monsters, some were more meant to fight other men. Some were born, molded and taught to protect. Palesean is the latter. After his uncle was killed by a rather fearsome beast, Palesean's father reached his Despair Event Horizon. Watching his own brother get eaten by a damned monster? Anybody would be fucked up after that. Luckily, he was able to keep himself from crossing into total psychotic shutdown through bull-headed determination to make the future better through his son, who was glad to take up the mantle.
So Palesean and his father trained day in and day out with all sorts of fighting techniques. First he started with his fists, then practice swords came in. Palesean was never very skilled in magic, nor was his father. He showed a bit of promise with offensive combat magic, but he spent most of his time training with weapons. The sword was where he shone like a star, but his calling was with shields. He could fight off a pair of men with a shield alone if need be. All it took was keeping yourself alive. That was Palesean's policy: winning did not mean defeating your opponent. It just meant living to the next day. Thus, he was able to abandon any notion of pride or shame.
Upon reaching seventeen, Palesean enlisted in the city's guard, being welcomed with open arms by his patriarchs to the fold. He was fitted with the standard equipment, and did a good job for most of his life. He's spent more time as a guardsman than anything else. His life consisted of the walls and protecting the people within, even from themselves. It was a good life, if not lonely. Palesean never married, but his father never cared. He had other sons, and nephews aplenty. Palesean was happy and he was a guard. That was enough for them all. Their lives were calm and mostly peaceful. A few tough scrapes here and there, a comrade lost every few years to battle, but for the most part, it was smooth sailing. Palesean became a Lieutenant, and spends his time on the wall and in the barracks, guiding and training troops.
Why are you on this journey?: What kind of cold-hearted bastard could leave a bunch of kids to run around and get into adventures...without getting in on that? But seriously, he's around to make sure nobody gets hurt. Whatever they accomplish in the interim is just a bonus.
Miscellaneous: Palesean keeps a small platinum locket on him at all times. It was his gift upon promotion to Lieutenant in his city's guard.
Age: 37
Appearance:
Palesean stands at about 65 inches (165 cm) and weighs in at 160 pounds (73 kg). His eyes are a calm hazel color, and his soft brown hair typically is close-cut to his head. He has a small scar on his left cheek from a minor training accident.
Style/Levels: Shields- Level 5. Swords- Level 5. Fisticuffs- Level 1. Combat Magic- Level 1.
Current Abilities: Shields Level 1
Grand Aegis : Palesean's shield projects a visible field of energy that effectively acts as though the shield is nearly five times its usual size, which is already great. This is most useful for protecting allies and shielding against arrows.
Stonewall : By planting his shield into the ground, the hunk of steel gains the immovable aspect of the Earth itself, preventing even the greatest forces from budging it.
Radiant Defense : Palesean's shield projects a non-visible field of energy which attracts the attention of enemies. When used in tandem with other Etras, this ability can be used to draw heavy attacks away from other people.
Tower Assault : Palesean swings his shield as if it were a bat or mace, clearing a wide area in front of him and causing serious pain. Without this Etra, the severe weight of the shield would likely tear his arm off if he attempted such an attack.
Iron Soul : By literally becoming one with his shield for a short time, Palesean is able to withstand attacks that could kill a normal man without breaking a sweat. However, he cannot move while this Etra is active.
Weapons: Bulwark
Soulreaper
Bulwark is a four and a half foot tall (137cm) shield that his about 18 inches (46cm) across. Palesean can fully protect himself behind this shield by crouching, allowing him to hide behind it against many attacks, though sometimes he'll need to activate Grand Aegis to extend his area of protection.
Soulreaper is a three-foot (91cm) bastard sword that Palesean can wield in his right hand, or using both hands if he is without Bulwark.
Personality: Palesean is a kind, loving and protective man, which comes from his upbringing. He believes in judging people by their actions, and doesn't hesitate to judge people himself. He is quick to make friends, often lending a helping hand or sympathetic voice to those around him. At the same time, he is a bit of a jokester, though he knows when it's time to get serious and crack some skulls rather than spit out a one-liner. He's not prone to outbursts of anger, and he'll try to stop a fight before it happens, though he has no qualms about fighting. He just prefers not to get his sword and shield bloody.
History: Palesean's family name is literally "Of the Guard." His father was a guardsman, his grandfather, his great-grandfather, his great-great-grandfather, etc. The Guard lineage is supposed to be at least three to four centuries long. Nobody questioned it. They were generally a strong, hearty family, getting good exercise and natural talents in some form of martial art. Some were more inclined to hunt monsters, some were more meant to fight other men. Some were born, molded and taught to protect. Palesean is the latter. After his uncle was killed by a rather fearsome beast, Palesean's father reached his Despair Event Horizon. Watching his own brother get eaten by a damned monster? Anybody would be fucked up after that. Luckily, he was able to keep himself from crossing into total psychotic shutdown through bull-headed determination to make the future better through his son, who was glad to take up the mantle.
So Palesean and his father trained day in and day out with all sorts of fighting techniques. First he started with his fists, then practice swords came in. Palesean was never very skilled in magic, nor was his father. He showed a bit of promise with offensive combat magic, but he spent most of his time training with weapons. The sword was where he shone like a star, but his calling was with shields. He could fight off a pair of men with a shield alone if need be. All it took was keeping yourself alive. That was Palesean's policy: winning did not mean defeating your opponent. It just meant living to the next day. Thus, he was able to abandon any notion of pride or shame.
Upon reaching seventeen, Palesean enlisted in the city's guard, being welcomed with open arms by his patriarchs to the fold. He was fitted with the standard equipment, and did a good job for most of his life. He's spent more time as a guardsman than anything else. His life consisted of the walls and protecting the people within, even from themselves. It was a good life, if not lonely. Palesean never married, but his father never cared. He had other sons, and nephews aplenty. Palesean was happy and he was a guard. That was enough for them all. Their lives were calm and mostly peaceful. A few tough scrapes here and there, a comrade lost every few years to battle, but for the most part, it was smooth sailing. Palesean became a Lieutenant, and spends his time on the wall and in the barracks, guiding and training troops.
Why are you on this journey?: What kind of cold-hearted bastard could leave a bunch of kids to run around and get into adventures...without getting in on that? But seriously, he's around to make sure nobody gets hurt. Whatever they accomplish in the interim is just a bonus.
Miscellaneous: Palesean keeps a small platinum locket on him at all times. It was his gift upon promotion to Lieutenant in his city's guard.
...The fuck, dude?
Mizu, what is with you and creating amazing RP's? I'm...thinking about joining. Got a bit on my plate ATM, but...definitely considering joining this.
Uh, yeah, I'll...get on that in a few days. Sorry. Kinda swamped with shit, on top of still just feeling like shit in general. Changing prescriptions is really fucking with my head.
Sixsmith said
I'm intending to make that a big surprise for people.It's obvious Saul has at least an inkling of a thing for Flynn, but Flynn has too many walls in place to reciprocate any feelings that wouldn't result in a one-night stand. So, depending on how perceptive Jacob is, he may or may not get close to Flynn to become comfortable enough to confide in him. :(
Maybe. We have talking to do, btw. Jacob has already confided about most his past (including the secret summer event) in Saul, which might change the way he thinks of him.
I'll pass on the Flynn love. Jacob might get close to him though, if Saul and Flynn become an item.
It better not have anything to do with Jacob...he's involved in enough crap as it is with Six gunning for me and a pot brownie under his belt.
Jacob can go anywhere: he's at a hinging point. He could end up doing just fine, continuing on the path to recovery, or he could end up relapsing and going into a downward spiral.
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