SillyGoy Member

One step forward, and Cadwal's mirthless voice immediately rang inside [Timothy](http://www.roleplayerguild.com/topics/75166/posts/char#post-2323135)'s mind. _"Don't help [them](http://www.roleplayerguild.com/topics/75166/posts/char#post-2325616). [They](http://www.roleplayerguild.com/topics/75166/posts/char#post-2326837) are being punished."_ _"But..."_ Tim ventured, but he could not help but find himself in agreement. He hadn't yet brought his other foot forward, but when he did, it wasn't to take another step. _"But what?"_ _"Eh, nevermind. You're right,"_ the boy conceded. So it was then that, in the aftermath of the conflict, and in the absence of anything particularly purposeful to do, Timothy Aquinas anticlimactically looked around and discovered a nearby vending machine. Stepping over a small piece of debris and ridding himself of a bit of cash, he procured from it a cold can of Nescafé, which he quickly opened and sipped from. The coffee's bitterness blended well with the sweetness of artificial flavoring, as always. May God bless Nestlé for this addictive drink. _"That's the third can today,"_ Cadwal commented. _"You're not addicted to caffeine now, are you?"_ _"Look around, Cadwal. Everything's a mess."_ He took a sip. _"Coffee calms me down."_ _"Uh-huh,"_ the ghostly knight said cryptically. _"Anyway, are you not going back to your quarters soon? Everything seems to be resolved."_ _"Not yet. I kind of wanna gawk around a little. Maybe talk to those two."_

#Ernest Rutherford ###The Janitor --- _ **Appearance:**_  --- _**Nickname:**_ The Janitor _**Position:**_ Janitor _**Employer:**_ Orean Cause _**Age:**_ 32 _**Gender:**_ Male --- _**Powers:**_ **Bag of Holding:** Quite unique to Ernest is his ownership and utilization of a personal pocket universe. Able to cast a portal leading to it at any time, he uses it, perhaps unimaginatively so, as an infinite storage space. Tearing grotesque, red rifts into reality like inflicting wounds upon existence itself, all he has to do is reach in and will whatever object he wants into his grasp. He has commented that it's "pretty useful." He is considering building a house in it. **Overlord:** Who would have thought that his personal universe was home to an entire race of impish demons? Small, frail and dumbly loyal to Ernest, these otherworldly beings assist in his cleaning and other needs. Not at all blessed with even respectable intellect, they need to be told exactly what to do, lest they be confused; therefore, they cannot replace Ernest in his janitorial job. To summon them, Ernest just has to tear a few portals into space and call them out. _**Skills:**_ **Mr. Clean:** Years in his profession has made a veteran of Ernest when it comes to cleaning. Come grime, dirt and slime, he always stands ready with his mop, broom and spray bottle. Every swish of the mop-head and scrub of the floor is delivered with resolute furor as he administers soap: his foremost tool in dealing with the myriad, horrid existences of uncleanliness, wherever they might be. _**Hobbies:**_ Ernest enjoys listening to music. He is never seen without his headphones on. He also watches anime and reads manga and partakes in other related activities, but hides it, considering it all a shameful hobby for an adult. --- _**Personality:**_ A lack of ambition and general contentedness of life has given Ernest an optimism and cheerfulness people of his age would probably envy. Headphones blasting scandalous tunes from the Toradora OST, he can be seen in the hallways armed always with his trusty mop, making the floor shine with soap and water. As he is considerate with the, as he says, stupidity of teenagers, he is quite approachable by the student body, though neither party may not find a lot of things to converse about. --- _**Background:**_ Ernest's story, while fairly depressing, is not unique: abandoned by his irresponsible father at birth and raised poorly by his drug-addicted single mother, he took up vice after vice as he transitioned from childhood to adolescence. Dropping out of highschool and being homeless for a while, utilizing the government shelters as his temporary home, he finally decided, one day, to get off his ass and begin setting his life straight. He was 18 years old when he was hired as a Janitor, and he hasn't since been the least bit regretful. --- _**Theme song:**_ [The Bees Made Honey in the Lion's Skull](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xYcQT8F58OU) _**Club:**_ Does being the head of a demonic legion count? _**Dreams:**_ Nothing but to keep on living.

#Ernest Rutherford ###The Janitor --- _ **Appearance:**_  --- _**Nickname:**_ The Janitor _**Position:**_ Janitor _**Employer:**_ Orean Cause _**Age:**_ 32 _**Gender:**_ Male --- _**Powers:**_ **Bag of Holding:** Quite unique to Ernest is his ownership and utilization of a personal pocket universe. Able to cast a portal leading to it at any time, he uses it, perhaps unimaginatively so, as an infinite storage space. Tearing grotesque, red rifts into reality like inflicting wounds upon existence itself, all he has to do is reach in and will whatever object he wants into his grasp. He has commented that it's "pretty useful." He is considering building a house in it. **Overlord:** Who would have thought that his personal universe was home to an entire race of impish demons? Small, frail and dumbly loyal to Ernest, these otherworldly beings assist in his cleaning and other needs. Not at all blessed with even respectable intellect, they need to be told exactly what to do, lest they be confused; therefore, they cannot replace Ernest in his janitorial job. To summon them, Ernest just has to tear a few portals into space and call them out. _**Skills:**_ **Mr. Clean:** Years in his profession has made a veteran of Ernest when it comes to cleaning. Come grime, dirt and slime, he always stands ready with his mop, broom and spray bottle. Every swish of the mop-head and scrub of the floor is delivered with resolute furor as he administers soap: his foremost tool in dealing with the myriad, horrid existences of uncleanliness, wherever they might be. _**Hobbies:**_ Ernest enjoys listening to music. He is never seen without his headphones on. He also watches anime and reads manga and partakes in other related activities, but hides it, considering it all a shameful hobby for an adult. --- _**Personality:**_ A lack of ambition and general contentedness of life has given Ernest an optimism and cheerfulness people of his age would probably envy. Headphones blasting scandalous tunes from the Toradora OST, he can be seen in the hallways armed always with his trusty mop, making the floor shine with soap and water. As he is considerate with the, as he says, stupidity of teenagers, he is quite approachable by the student body, though neither party may not find a lot of things to converse about. --- _**Background:**_ Ernest's story, while fairly depressing, is not unique: abandoned by his irresponsible father at birth and raised poorly by his drug-addicted single mother, he took up vice after vice as he transitioned from childhood to adolescence. Dropping out of highschool and being homeless for a while, utilizing the government shelters as his temporary home, he finally decided, one day, to get off his ass and begin setting his life straight. He was 18 years old when he was hired as a Janitor, and he hasn't been the least bit regretful. --- _**Theme song:**_ [The Bees Made Honey in the Lion's Skull](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xYcQT8F58OU) _**Dreams:**_ Nothing but to keep on living.

OH MAN I DIDNT MEAN TO POST IT IN THE IC At least I have the spot if my character gets approved.

OH MAN I DIDNT MEAN TO POST IN THE IC

Reserving this spot for my CS.

The dust had settled fairly quickly, and the transient chaos gave way to a relative quietude. [Timothy ](http://www.roleplayerguild.com/topics/75166/posts/char#post-2323135)furrowed his brow and widened his eyes at recognition of the two characters in the spotlight, being dogged by the Ruler quintet: [Harold](http://www.roleplayerguild.com/topics/75166/posts/char#post-2325616) and [Theresa](http://www.roleplayerguild.com/topics/75166/posts/char#post-2326837), the strangers he had met this morning, the two who hit it off pretty well (and pretty damned quickly, too), and were now in seemingly gargantuan trouble. It would seem that the titan was of their doing, and though he did not want to judge prematurely, it all seemed like it was their fault. Had they abused their powers? His fingers slackened on his crucifix and reluctantly let it go, but his characteristically mild demeanor was gone: his was a scowl true and ugly. _"She delivers her judgement like the Marshall of the Knights of Solomon,"_ Cadwal smirked, referring to Louise. _"For a little girl like her, to wield such authority in her voice and to have that authority respected by -- this is bloody brutal. I would laugh; I want to laugh, but..."_ It was a mild struggle to keep serious in situations like these whenever the ghostly knight delivered his ridiculous commentary. Maybe Tim needed it to loosen up; his scowl relaxed into something more gentle as ghostly snickering echoed inside his mind.

Can I be an Infantry Company's CO?

I came, I saw, I posted; I came.

The late afternoon tranquility, as [Timothy](http://www.roleplayerguild.com/topics/75166/posts/char#post-2323135) took the scenic route on his way to his room to reflect upon the day so far, was shattered by alarmingly loud noises as he passed by the cafeteria. Thunderclaps hammered at his ears and shook the air like cannon fire, startling him on his toes. His fingers, through instinctive reflex, already gripped tightly his crucifix pendant as he looked bewildered in the general direction wherefrom the unholy cacophony emanated; and not long after, he was sprinting after it. He burst through the entrance of the cafeteria and the chaos that made a wreck of the place was worse than he imagined at first. It seemed that almost everyone had activated their abilities and was now hammering at the most obvious target at the near center of the room: an armored titan, a hulking parody of man cobbled together from nearby scrap and whatever else was available and now forced to walk and swing and swipe by its master. But who directed it? He couldn't know. Far too many things were happening all at once. But, he thought he could make out a familiar face or two through the hurricane of firepower. _"What a ruckus!"_ Cadwal understated, exhilaration unhidden in his mind-voice. _"It's almost as bad as when I first entered Jerusalem!"_ A girl with wings then suddenly swooped by Timothy, sending a gust of wind that almost voided him of his glasses. _"Bloody hell, boy, that one's got angel wings!"_ "What in the **_hell_** is going on here?!" Timothy yelled, his face contorted in confusion and a bit of ire. Though part of him wanted to summon a Holy Ghost or two right then and there, he did not want to act too rashly; he had just discovered that he was part of a ring of idle bystanders, and this probably wasn't a gratuitous free-for-all. But he still held the silver that hung from his neck. If something went wrong, a few words was all it took.