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Literary Hatchetman

STATUS: Malfunctioning Space Toilet (favorite death post in RPG) : roleplayerguild.com/posts/4… 8 yrs ago
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8 yrs ago
Current Malfunctioning Space Toilet (favorite death post in RPG) : roleplayerguild.com/posts/4…
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10 yrs ago
Example of a "Character Flaw": roleplayerguild.com/posts/32..
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Bio





"Character Flaw"

Keystone's Daydream

Checking for Mental Intrusion

The Power Of Pain Compels You

The Greater Good

Burial & Origin of James Mandingo Grady



Most Recent Posts

In 🧚🏻‍♀️ The Walking Dead - Year 6 Part 1 → 10 yrs ago Forum: Casual Roleplay


In 🧚🏻‍♀️ The Walking Dead - Year 6 Part 1 → 10 yrs ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
Submitting for approval. I understand there's an opening.

In 🦄 Duplicity - D&D Style Fantasy Rp Adventure (Completed) → 10 yrs ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
Keystone

Location: Road North of Salarn, Camp
Interacting With:Cremwise, Cyneburg, Calanon


The brash and straightforward Pugilist pulled back his hood and ran his fingers through shortish hair, batting an amount of accumulating rain from it in a futile attempt at keeping water from running down his face. He twisted his pinky into an ear, diverting a drop or two from getting too far inside, and re-raised the hood of his armor-quality hide coat. Protective and practical.

For a brief moment, he missed his last coat. It was a mid-length black item made of thick wool with dull, brass buttons. Functional, but not exceptional in quality, it was still an item generally too expensive for a man of his background to afford through normal means. As it turns out, the urban laborer's coat was a gift from his mother, purchased with savings from monies Keystone actually sent back home, early on in his career as a bareknuckle prize fighter. It was the last gift he would receive from her, before her passing.

Regretfully, both it and he caught on fire, after hammering the (assisted) killing blow into a very large Hellhound; the eruption of bioinfernal flame teaching him very valuable lessons in both the nature of lower planar creatures and critical procedures in treating burns wounds on a budget. Keystone flexed his right hand, mostly covered by a fingerless glove.

Aside from scarring, Keystone retained the buttons from his coat a small amount of preserved Hellhound blood as souvenirs.

Memory lane sufficiently traveled, Keystone assisted Cremwise in leading the horse and wagon back onto the road. "Alright, you lot. Come if you're comin'. If'n you're with, you're here to help guard. Otherwise, make with the sodding off, nowish."

When he was reasonably sure that no one else was following (yet), Keystone slowed his pace to allow one of their newer companions, Cyneburg, to catch up with him. She had asked a him a question earlier that was interrupted by circumstances. If memory served, it was "Excuse me, but what exactly did you mean by 'my lot doing their business in the woods?'"

Keystone addressed it with as much of his genteel nature as he could muster despite his underclass accent practically singing. "Yah, 'bout that... It's a 'spression, y'see, meanin' certainty. Havin' never been in spots where I could hold down words with a bear on the issue, I'm figurin' you're the next best, get me?" The broad man cleared his throat, continuing, "I do 'ate turnin' a phrase all sidewaysey. So, Sometimes-Bear, you lot shit in the woods, or is it just an 'orrible rumor started by folk in Team Squirrel?"

A sudden nagging feeling struck Keystone. He perked his head up, stopping his walk forward altogether. Turning to meet their most recent tagalong, he stopped directly in his path and folded his arms in a faux casual stance. "Somethin' bothers me, chum. You ain't told a one of us who you are, nor why you're in the middle of a warzone in the first. 'Fore you or me take a step townward, we're havin' a meet'n'greet. Name of Keystone. I hit things. Me 'n mine're making sure Cremmy's wares get where they're goin'. You are?"
In 🦄 Darker Than Black - Merged With T.S. → 10 yrs ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
Respawning in: ...3 ...2 ...1

Colab With: @Charnobylisk @Lady Amalthea


The grizzled Mexican sat up in his bed with at start, teeth bared underneath a handlebar moustache that would have splintered plywood with its magnificence, coupled with the force of his emergence into the waking world. He white-knuckle clenched a worn but polished machete in one hand (Christ, does he sleep with the thing?), his other balled into a fist. Hazel eyes darted about, blurry with sleep, attempting to find a target for angry, martial attentions.

His eyes widened as the shackles of nocturnal rest began to fall away. A pain - phantom pain, really, like the memory of an old trauma hauling back long put-aside sensory information, exploded on the back of his neck. Before he realized, he had already slapped a hand to cover the sensation. With an odd feeling of guttural anxiety, slowly waking eyes came level to his palm, questioning.

The older man expected to see blood. When he did not, his brain clicked to the "Mostly Awake" setting. What the hell was going on? He took a mental assessment of his situation. His name was Caesar Hannibal Gonzalez. He was in his new apartment in Justice, California. He was in town on business, kinda, and his daughter lived in the next building over.

"M'hija!"

Alicia pulled out a pan of enchiladas that she had been working on all morning, well it wasn't the first pan. There were several. The little Taco Belle was rather excited about the block party that was happening that evening. She hadn't ever been to one but she had friends in Seattle and back east that had. She had given them all calls and drilled them on the protocol. The number one suggestion, bring food because there was never enough. Considering when her and Papi got together with Lorna they would eat two pans between the three of them she figured it was a good idea to make a lot more. Placing the pan on a towel that rested on the kitchen counter she shoved another pan into the oven and hip checked it closed.

"Cookie! Where did you put the mole sauce I made the other day?" she yelled out to her roomie as she rummaged through the refrigerator. Shoving aside several cases of beer and left overs she finally found it buried in the back. Reaching in she grabbed it. Lorna heard Alicia calling out and then the tell tale rustling and clinking of a fridge being raided. She opened her mouth to reply but was quickly cut off. "Never mind, found it!" Shrugging, Lorna went back to reading her copy of "Blades Galore: Machete Special", her feet propped up on the coffee table.

Caesar fumbled for his phone on the nightstand and frantically smashed his index finger onto the picture of his daughter, Alicia, knocking over a mostly empty bottle of Patrón in the process. Five nerve wracking, finger tapping rings later, the line opened on the other end. Taking the initiative (and managing a breach of telephone etiquette in the process), he blurted out, "M'hija? M'hija, are you ok? I had a really fucked-up dream you got pulled out of a truck and eaten - wanted to make sure you were okay. You okay?"

Alicia pulled the phone away from her ear as her father yelled from the other side before putting it back to her ear. "Papi, what the fuck are you babbling about? Eaten? Who ate me?" she asked before covering up the microphone of her phone and looking over towards Lorna. "I think Papi has done lost it. Not in a go gut a pendejo way, like mentally." Putting the phone on speaker she looked back down at the phone. "Papi... did you stay up late last night drinking tequila and watching The Walking Dead again?" Snorting at Alicia's side of the conversation, Lorna closed her magazine over and placed it on the coffee table. She sat forward and watched Alicia from her perch on the sofa.

Back on the other end of the line, Caesar squinted his eyes at the soft, cool glow of the flatscreen television on the wall opposite him in the room. It was set to a simply colored DVR screen; blue background with rounded, white letters, patiently waiting for input from the beleaguered Mexican, prompting him with the unwavering suggestion: "AMC - The Walking Dead - Play next episode?"

Still clutching his machete, Caesar reached over to set upright the bottle of Patrón he had knocked over a moment ago. He exhaled heavily and swung his feet over the side of the bed, settling them into a pair of white bunny slippers upon the floor. ...stay up late drinking tequila and watching The Walking Dead... "Umm.. No?" he answered unconvincingly.

"Alicia, tell Papi he needs to cut down to a bottle a night instead of two. Who the fuck dreams about people being eaten? Now being fucking shot through the chest, that is a normal nightmare." Lorna patted the spot just above her heart and rubbed it as a sudden pain shot through her heart. "Well that feels fucking weird. Oi Leash, we got anything for heartburn?"

"Better than having your neck cut by that chick from Resident Evil," Alicia quipped as she tossed the bottle of rolaids over to Lorna. Grabbing it in mid-air, Lorna necked a couple before placing the bottle on the coffee table beside her prior reading material.

Caesar heard Lorna's comment, a thing that would ordinarily cause him great annoyance. For some reason, hearing her voice also gave him a fleeting sense of relief. "Ey, is that Cookie? She doing good, too? I, ah... think I remember something... Look, M'hija, I'm feeling a little strange. I'm gonna find something to get into. What's my niña doing today?" He took a pull from his bottle, savoring the subtle flavors of his 80 proof breakfast.

"Aye Papi, Cookies fine. We're just getting ready for the block party. Get over here and help me with the fucking taquitos, they ain't gonna cook themselves," she said with a smirk as she looked over to Lorna. Lorna simply rolled her eyes and shrugged, muttering to herself. "Well I ain't a bloody cook..." Taking a deep breath Alicia smelled something and screamed. Miscommunication is a bad thing. Intentional, unintentional, doesn't matter. Information is not passed along, is altered, and/or context gets lost. It was precisely this last difficulty, context, that led Caesar to perform certain actions following his only daughter screaming, "Fuck me!!" as she dropped her phone, the phone clattering to the floor and the call going dead. After the nigh premonition/past life regression dream he still hadn't shaken, coupled with his natural protective instincts, the most logical conclusion the venerable warrior could come to involved him finding the source of his M'hija's alarm and destroying it in the most violent, splattering manner possible. And so, he rose.

"My enchiladas!" she yelped as she ran over to the oven and pulled out a nearly burned batch.

Lorna fell back onto the sofa and laughed at the look on Alicia's face, snorting as she laughed harder the moment she saw the burnt remains. "Shall we order out for Taco Bell, my dear Taco Belle?" Lorna smirked and jumped over the back of the sofa, awaiting the inevitable assault of projectiles from Alicia's direction for her dumb comment. Alicia glared over towards Lorna as she hipped checked the oven closed and started to walk towards her roommate, still holding the bubbling burnt pan of Mexican cuisine. "Come here, I'm about to make a savory cookie." Snorting, Lorna held her hands up in defeat. "C'mon now, Leash. Y'know I've a sweet tooth an'all. Lets not be hasty..." The childish smile was one that she only ever used when she was messing around with Alicia.

Caesar rose from his bed, still clutching his machete and almost empty bottle of tequila. He started at a sprint, moving with the speed and ferocity of a cheetah beset with chronic intestinal distress gunning for the crapper. In scant seconds, he had bounded out of his basement apartment and onto the street above, a constant animalistic growl growing to a deafening roar, announcing his presence before he exploded into the general public clad only in a pair of smiley face boxers and fuzzy, white, bunny slippers. The Power of 'Stache compels him; it was a formidable power indeed.

Suffice it to say, it was not taken well. Lawson slowly looked over from the smoker, his baby blue eyes peering through the cloud of smoke wafting up from the wood, trying to fan it away. He really couldn't be seeing what he was seeing, could he? "That be the most confusing thang I done seen since Ma tried to rope a turkey with slinky. What the hell that man be up to?"

The elder man's tattoos, visible for the first time by most of his new neighbors, seemed to ripple and seethe with rage as his long, dark hair screamed behind him, not unlike tassels on a little girl's ubersatanic bike handlebars. The roar continued with the same level of terror inspiring gusto, never pausing, never ebbing, as he ran the few meters down the street necessary to gain access to his daughter's apartment. Alicia stepped closer to Lorna, about to throw the entire pan at the Marine when all hell broke loose.

A single fuzzy, white bunny hovered in the air for a half-second before smashing open her front door. Splinters twisted in the wake of the wooden portal's murder as it exploded open, revealing to those inside the feral and vorpal outline of an almost naked Caesar, screaming to any and all within earshot, "AAAAAAAAHH!!! DADDY'S HERE, M'HIJA! IT'S STABBING TIME!"

Alicia jumped, "THE FUCK!!!!". The pan went up into the air as she reached under the side table next to the couch for her pistol. The saucy concoction of burnt cheese and corn tortilla flew out of the pan, hitting the wall and splattering every where and on everyone like Napalm. "It burns!!!" she screamed as she tried to wipe away the red sauce from her eyes and hair and everything else. Stumbling over the coffee table and falling right through it as it gave way under her.

Lorna saw everything pretty much exploding and she froze in sheer shock at the sight of Caesar busting his way through their door practically naked. The pan flying in the air caught her attention enough that she rose her hands up to shield her face before her body crumpled into a ball on the ground as she tried to protect herself behind the sofa from all the projectiles. The splinters from the door flew everywhere and she could feel a couple bits hitting against her as the searing hot sauce landed on her exposed arms, hands and down the back of her neck through her hair. "JESUS FUCKING CHRIST ON A STICK! YA GOD DAMN BASTARD, THIS BURNS!" Lorna grabbed a pillow from the sofa and began to wipe the sauce away with the side of the cover that hadn't been caked in sauce. If it weren't Papi and Alicia that had been the culprits of her discomfort, Lorna may well have just belted someone. But these two got a free pass.

"Papi!!! ¡Qué mierda! ¿Qué carajo crees que estás haciendo?" Alicia bellowed as she tried to get up from the remains of her poor table, may it rest in peace. Rolling out of the debris she slowly stood up, pulling queso cheese from her hair as she looked over to her father. "Papi... You gots some 'splanin' to do..." Lorna blinked at the Spaniard exchange and shrugged. "Why is it that I still don't know any Spanish after living with ya for so long?" Taking her skip cap off, Lorna noticed the mass amount of cheese that had slapped on top of it. Well she wasn't gonna be wearing that today it seemed, not unless she wanted to look like a literal side dish.

Shaking her head to try and dislodge bits of food, Lorna looked over to the father-daughter combo and rose her hands up before slapping them off each other, as if getting rid of dust. "I'm out. Papi, mornin' to ya but I can't stand here and look at ya practically starkers, so I'm gonna get this shit outta my hair 'fore it dries in. I'll get the skinny later and help clean up once I'm clean. Try not t'kill each other." With that, Lorna wandered into the bathroom and started the shower up. She looked at the bottle of dye that she'd been considering using and figured it was time for a change. Her hair was looking a little too post-apocalyptic these days anyway, time to freshen up before she looked even more like the living dead.

Caesar surveyed the scene of broken wood and spatially rearranged Mexican entree. He was breathing heavily, hastily looking around for the first thing and/or person he was going to vivisect. Sadly, there was no target to be had here. Alicia had crashed through her coffee table, but not before dousing him (and everything else) in scalding enchilada sauce. His aggressive concern over his daughter's safety abated, flowing away from one heartbeat to the next. It was replaced by profound irritation.

"God DAMNIT M'hija! Why the fuck you gonna scare me like that?! What the hell is wrong with you? Qué chingados, M'hija?"

"¿YO? No soy el hombre entró por la puerta como maldito Kool-Aid puta!" Alicia exclaimed as she pointed to the door and then put her hands to her head and pushed her damp sauce ridden hair back. "My door Papi! You're paying for that! Fix it Papi!" she said as she went full Chica mode.

He noticed the fast retreating Lorna, recognizing she had concerns about her hair. True, she'd been looking a little frayed lately. Not "work is hectic" frayed, more like "Walking Dead casualty". Caesar quieted himself until she left the room to clean up, holding gaze with his daughter all the while. As his face came to hers Alicia froze, she knew that face. She was in deep churros now... He motioned at her with his blade and spoke with a slightly quieter, but no less grave voice. "Alicia Maria Juanita Sophia Gonzalez, don't you ever scare me like that again."

Lowering her head she clasped her hands together in front of her like she was a small child, swaying back and forth. "Ay Papi..." He lowered his machete and continued, "I'm going to go get cleaned up. I'll be back in a little bit to help with..." He waved his bottle of Patrón about, "...this."

Caesar sighed, turning to step back out of the hole that used to be a solid, stable door. In a more cheerful voice, he called out, "Be back in a little while, Cookie!" and returned to the street above.

Apparently, the sight of an older Mexican in smiley boxer shorts and fuzzy, white bunny slippers out in public was a spectacle. This particular spectacle carried a machete and a bottle of booze, a sticky red mystery fluid dripping from his face and arms; naturally it was ever-so-slightly offputting to the casual passerby. People stared. Instead of addressing each one individually or the lot of them as a group, Caesar singled out the nearest pedestrian he didn't know, shouting, "Fuck you staring at, Asshair?" before returning to his own home and slamming the door behind him.

Lawson just stood there with his wet basting brush, sauce dripping on the baby back ribs as he watched the entire scene unfold, his mouth agape. "Nothing sir," he quickly said as he turned his attention back to the food and let out a rather quick breath as his eyebrows raised. "Not going for a tumble weed tango with that hombre.."

Alicia flopped onto the couch and just surveyed the damage. Her door, her table, her poor enchiladas... Groaning she ran her finger along her cheek and pulled away from sauce on the tip. Shrugging she stuck it in her mouth to taste. "Fucking shame..."

Inside his apartment, Caesar retrieved his phone and hammered in Alica's landlord's number. From the street outside his building, the muffled exclamations of the older man could be readily heard, "Culo! My daughter's front door suddenly exploded! Fucking fix it! ...and clean her carpet. It's a disgrace."
In 🧚🏻‍♀️ The Walking Dead - Year 6 Part 1 → 10 yrs ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
Black James!


Location: Newnan Courthouse Clocktower
Interacting With: Maria, Ash


Maria insisted on leaving. Hell, James hiself had given it due cosideration; it didn't seem like he was doing enough from up here. He felt genuine desire to take up his woodaxe and handgun, beating his boots down on the pavement below eliminating any and all threat to his home. He was a fighter, and a survivor. No question. But the people left down there were depending upon his firing irons and the skill with which he wielded them. He was not Alicia. But he would have to suffice.

James picked up the walkie, speaking into it with a little more alarm and a little less forced humor than he had been using previously. "Ash, man. I'm sorry, Maria's headed your way. I've got to cover all of y'all by my lonesome, ok? So I'm gonna make for the live assholes, 'less you tell me to aim for the dead'ns."

The intrepid hogger gave the new environment of Newnan a peek. The lion's share of the upright corpses were making for the Big Bada Boom in front of the Armory, many to be consumed by fire that their latest personnel acquisition rained upon them. The fire, of course, caught the more sustained attention of others. Their slackjawed stares and shuffling in a uniform direction did however make it easier to pick out the live ones from the dead.

Speaking of which, two of the live ones were making for the Courthouse that very moment. "If I don't know you," he began, setting eye to scope, "then you die, sucka." The trill of a silenced shot sounded before a large bore round tore through the John Deere cap on the head of one, spraying bloody matter and bone fragments behind him. The dead Edenite kept moving forward, though horizontally, prone, and scraping part of his face onto the rough blacktop.

James took aim on the second one, frozen momentarily due to the shock of seeing his buddy's head explode in front of him. The dead-on shot failed to strike. Not for his lack of precision, but for his lack of bullets. "Shit!" he hissed. James could flip out a clip in a second, maybe two. But they would be long seconds with his friends out there. Long seconds.

Ashton Holloway


Location: Newnan Armory
Interacting With: Tom, Meg, Newnan


"Roger that, James. Will keep an eye out."

Maria decided to leave the tower. This was not what he ordered. This was not what they needed. Maybe all this would work out, but as soon as this situation was resolved, if he survived, there would be an accounting for the ongoing chaos in the Newnan ranks he'd witnessed just today. If they couldn't come together during a time like this, maybe they didn't deserve this town or these walls. The remainder of this day would tell. First, they had to get through it alive.

Ash risked a look outside. He noticed a number of his people making for both the Courthouse and the Armory. Faces he knew. Faces he trusted. And, a couple faces he didn't know, and didn't trust. Feigning ignorance, he stepped fully outside and waved them toward the clear doorway. "C'mon! Here, here, here!" He went as far as to make eye contact with two of them he knew didn't belong, encouraging them inward. Even lowered his carbine. As they neared, he kept waving. "Almost there, guys! Plenty of ammo for everybody!"

The second Ash knew he had a fully unobstructed view of the strangers in his town, his left hand raised, Detonix .45 at the ready. The gun barked twice. The first time tore a hole in an Edenite chest. The second one imploded another's head. "Stupid fuckers..." There had to be more out there, invaders amongst the loyal. Ash could see faces pressed against windows. He could see more of his people running to get into the Armory. The town was beginning to wake up. Now was the time to help them.

His voice boomed as he held a gun in each hand, scanning the crowd for more interlopers to cap. "Look around you, Newnan! Look! We need to move! Cousin Zō is keepin' the Dead busy! Time is NOW."

Without taking his eyes from the coming throng of people, Ash addressed those already inside the Armory, "Tom, you've got this. Get our people ready. If you don't know someone, bullet. Meg! Ready for a jog around town?"
In 🦄 Duplicity - D&D Style Fantasy Rp Adventure (Completed) → 10 yrs ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
@Lucius Cypher

Issue with the bundle of dry wood. Lady A made mention in her earlier posts that it had been raining for a quite a bit, and everything was soaked. Even made note that the canopy provided no protection. Finding a dry stick, let alone an armload of wood, is highly unlikely without the use of magic.
In 🦄 Darker Than Black - Merged With T.S. → 10 yrs ago Forum: Casual Roleplay


In 🦄 Darker Than Black - Merged With T.S. → 10 yrs ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
Resubmitted, changes made.

In The Legend of Zelda: Fragments of Hope → 10 yrs ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
Cricket

Location: Oasis, Resistance HQ
Interacting With: Yuri


The young Sheikah smiled broadly at his new acquaintance, then promptly shoved a large chunk of date bread into his mouth. With hands now free, he hefted his resin bonded Deku Staff, regarding Yuri's assumptions on the item. He shook his head slowly, motioning to imply a far distance. Though it would be bad form to reveal to the exact nature of the item (let alone functionally impossible without getting pen and paper involved), any close inspection of the staff by someone familiar with either Kokiri or Sheikah craftsmanship would reveal clues atypical to an otherwise standard tool of its kind. But it would have to be a close inspection.

Still chewing, he returned his flexible but solid wooden pole to its previous resting spot. For half a second, the nonvocal warrior caught an expression, as if his brain just hiccuped and he had forgotten something obvious and pressing.

A look of realization crossed his features. He shook his head foolishly, stark white hair swishing noiselessly about his eyes. With a careful flourish, he held a hand out, palm up, in front of Yuri. A small black cricket hopped from his sleeve onto his outstretched hand chirped twice, and turned to look back at the Sheikah. In response, the Sheikah looked to Yuri, pointed at the cricket, and then at himself. He repeated the process, nodding.

When he was sure the message got across, Cricket retracted his hand and sliced off another chunk of date bread. No sense marching and fighting on an empty stomach, after all.
In 🦄 Duplicity - D&D Style Fantasy Rp Adventure (Completed) → 10 yrs ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
@Charnobylisk

I am a little afraid of our group dynamic now. Thanks for that, Char.
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