Saarebas

Spliced

Marshall rolled his eyes and sat down with a grunt. "It's a crap job with crap pay... then again most jobs are." He said with another strained smirk, though this time he had to steady himself to keep from falling over. As the girl began to walk away he called after her. "What's your name anyways?"

Asylum for the Supernatural

Yay I'll get started right away.

Spliced

"Ughh... There's that taste again!" Marshall said before he spit out a lob of venom onto the floor in front of him. It was just then that some girl came up behind him. He was about to make a joke but he figured he didn't have the strength to fight if this kid turned out to be like snake boy. "Yeah... I guess I'm turning into one of his favorite toys." He said in a weak voice before taking the girls hand and pulled himself up. "Ughh I'd rather have a truck of aspirin and a damn year of sleep but neither of that's going to happen so water... yeah." He said letting out a strained smirk. "Oh it's Marshall."

Asylum for the Supernatural

Hello I was wondering if this was still open.

Spliced

Marshall didn't have the energy to make any jokes with Vlad so once he was unstrapped from the chair he slumped to his cell pulled on a red flannel shirt and jeans before shakily climbing up the stairs out of the basement. He looked frail and tired as he stumbled through the halls, having to grab the wall a few times to keep from falling. But he eventually made it to the cafeteria where he fell to his knees. "Son of a bitch!"

Spliced

Marshall was still painting heavily, his entire body coated in sweat. He looked like he was on the verge of passing out but just then his body jerked forward and he threw up right in front of Vlad, some spilling onto his shoes. But if one with the right know how looked at the fluid they would know it to be venom rather than the contents of the boy's stomach. "Aghh... that... tastes... horrible..." He said with a strained breath.

Dragon age Rp OOC

Name: Kata, still answers to Saarebas out of habit

Age: 29

Biography: Kata's life was destined to be one of hardship the second he was born with his magical blood. Like all of his kind born with the strong connection to the Fade he was branded a Saarebas, a dangerous thing, and striped of every freedom that would of been offered to him should he have been born like the others. Like the rest of the Saarebas his lips were sewn together to prevent him spreading his corruption, his horns shaved as a sign of his dangerous nature, and he was assigned an Arvaarad who held his leash. For years he was forced to be a tool on the behalf of his Arvaarad, who lead him into battle and used him like a weapon, until by some blessing a Tal-Vashoth group slayed his Arvaarad. They took Kata with them, him still being named simply Saarebas, and gave him a taste of freedom. He traveled with them until it dawned on him that he was being used again. He attempted to leave the group only for them to stop him, threating his life. So again he was held prisoner because of his powers. He was only able to escape when he killed the guard to his cell. So now with his new found freedom came a new set of problems, being a enemy of the Qunari and the Tal-Vashoth left him both alone and a target. But luckily he was finally able to put his cursed magic to use when he found out about the ancient magic of shapeshifting. He used his new found skill to hide from his enemies in plane sight, as an animal. He eventually made his way to Ferelden were he became a mercenary and changed his name to Kata, meaning the end.

Race: Qunari

Appearance: Kata is a towering 6'6 with a fit body build, though he is less muscle than others of his race. His hair is snow white and he normally keeps it messily brushed back between his shaved horns, it reaching to the back of his neck. His skin is silver and is racked with countless scars, the most disturbing being the ones on his lips which look like at one point they were sewn together. He has piercing deep red eyes that seem to look through people rather than at them.

Kata

Class: Mage

Specialization: Shapeshifter

Rusted War (SR3 type Rp)

Name: No one's quite sure and the rumor is that he doesn't know either

Nickname: Caveman, or Cave to the few he allows to call him that

Age: The guess is 25

Gender: Male

Gang: Tribe 777

Rank: Chief enforcer

Appearance: Cave is the poster boy of how the members of Tribe 777 look like. His dark brown hair always stands up in tangled knots and will have some sort of twig, dirt, or sometimes bullet casing lost in it. He has dark tanned skin that have countless burn marks, cuts, scars and bullet wounds coating him from his neck down. He has a muscular build that do to him never wearing a shirt gets shown off. His hands forearms are normally wrapped in bandages like many fighters do. His main article of clothing are his pants that are crudely made up of sewn together pieces of brown cloth. Besides his pants he wears a single steel toe boot. Like the rest of the Tribe Cave has white body paint covering his body, most of which being hand prints, the most noticeable being the skull painted on his face. His twig mask resembles that of a hockey players save for the forehead which protrudes like how a Neanderthal's would.

History: The only rock solid thing that is known about Cave's past is that he was once held at the Hailgraven asylum that mysteriously burned down.

Personality: The word savage could be used to describe Cave, but the word tall could also used to describe the Empire State building. In other words it just doesn't do it or him justice. Cave lives, breathes and eats crazy on a daily bases and takes the Tribe 777 life style to heart. He whole heartily believes that he is a tribesmen and hates most of modern culture. His version of fun is beating the ever loving crap out of a person and his version of music is to lesion to the sounds of a persons bones snapping. He is only loyal to the Tribe and to him anyone else is weak and only there for him to crush. He has a thing for woman with power, which is one of the reasons he follows Farkaal.

Weapon of Choice: He prefers to use his hands in battle, him having his own unpredictable fighting style. But if pressed he does use hatchets for both throwing and up close.

Vehicle of Choice: Sabertooth, a black Harley that is covered in white hand prints much like him.

Other: An example of his fighting style and look. Look to the fighter named Sketch.

Supernatural Family {Always open!}

Vokun let out another laugh. Oh I think I'm going to like these neighbors. He thought as he listened to the banter between Faeya and her sister. Living with his family he had long since gotten used to the mocking and jokes that were made, so being called someone's boyfriend was nothing he wasn't more than use to... then again it did give him some ideas. He only got pulled out of his thoughts when Faeya spoke up. "Sure, but I should warn you I can eat a whole lot." He said putting on his smile and patting his fit stomach.

Spliced

The creature looked at Vlad for a moment before looking down at it's own horrifying form. It then dawned a pained expression and the sounds of bones snapping could be heard as it slowly began to decrees in size. Sweat was beading down the creatures face as it let out grunts and groans. At one point the creature was stuck in a state between human and monster, having three eyes and one wing. But after a few more minutes the monster was gone and a nearly passed out Marshall was sitting in the chair, drenched in sweat and painting heavily.