Voltus_Ventus Member
The Voltusiest Ventus
STATUS: Happy Birthday, I hope you’re gonna have a good day today. 3 yrs ago
- Last Seen: 28 days ago
- Joined: 12 yrs ago
- Posts: 2659 (0.59 / day)
- VMs: 2
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Username history
- Voltus_Ventus 12 yrs ago
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Latest 10 profile visitors:
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Neziul,
KrystalKleo
Status
Recent Statuses
3 yrs ago
Current
Happy Birthday, I hope you’re gonna have a good day today.
3
likes
7 yrs ago
Word of the Day: Overcome.
3
likes
7 yrs ago
Also checked out Myriad Reality, I think they are trying to build some kind of computer consciousness over there via IC posts.
7 yrs ago
Get ready for an unusually low volume of likes then, you so-and-so.
3
likes
7 yrs ago
Can someone ironically praise me please? Thank you!
3
likes
Bio
I’ve moved. I don’t have the same number anymore.
Most Recent Posts
Ok.
No no keep it.
I'm in the saloon, I'm planing on not having enough money and having to sleep in the stable.
So am I good to go?
Guys, I think I'm going to back out, it's just a bit too fast paced for me, sorry. Have fun!
If it's not an inconvenience I'd like to join.
Name: Howard "The Gentleman" Starkweather
Occupation: Undertaker
Description: he is 6'4", weights 160lbs and is 24 years old.
Appearance: he is a tall slim man with dark brown slicked back hair, he sports a well trimmer mustache and full eye brows. He has green eyes and slightly tanned skin.
Clothing: he wears a pair of black trousers and a white shirt that is rolled up at the sleeves, over this he wears a black suit vest and riding chaps. He has a bandolier and side arm holster around his waist and a long arm holster on his back. He wears a black Stetson hat with white trim and formal riding boots.
Weapons: a 1871 Mauser Bolt action rifle, a webely bulldog revolver and a pair of brass knuckles.
Items: in his satchel he has a tape measure (for bodies and coffins), a pair of round brass glasses to read small finicky writing, a ledger to keep count of his clients and how much they pay, a small wad of cash and charts of the area.
Horse: he has a mare with a brown coat and a darker brown mane, like coffee on chocolate. It has a saddle bag with some clothes and more body measuring equipment. Her name is Theodora.
Summery: Howard has been in the undertaker business his whole life, the trade passed down from generation to generation in his family. He use to make quality coffins for both rich and poor alike at appropriate costs, however due to major leaps In medical advancements, customers have been few and far between, so had to get more clients "creativly". He use to shoot a bandit or two in the middle if the night and the state would pay him to make coffins for them because he was the only undertaker in the area. One day he shot one of Bill's lot and they came to him for revenge, burring down the family workshop, so of course he wanted revenge and all the money that came with it.
History: Born in the spring of 1851 to a family who delt with death, Howard was a fairly normal child inspite of the fact he lived with a family of oddly cheery, undertakers and morticians. He, since his childhood was in the business of handling dead bodies and became accustomed to corpses early on, what good undertaker isn't? He was the offspring of an undertaker and a florist, they together monopolized the death business in Yornley, flowers and coffins always went hand in hand and with these two influences developed an eccentric man, flamboyant and charming like his mothers flowers and sympathetic and compassionate from his fathers coffins. At the age of 18 his parents died of the influenza and he had to take over the business from a ripe young age, however it was going badly, medicine had gotten better and people were dying less, the Starkweather Funeral Company was in shambles and Howard could do nothing to stop it. So he moved to Europe where lots of death was going and got in on the action, he worked for all sides and benefited from all of them. After a few months across the pond he returned to nonexsistant company with nonexistent staff so he started from scratch and got into some "ill practices".
Occupation: Undertaker
Description: he is 6'4", weights 160lbs and is 24 years old.
Appearance: he is a tall slim man with dark brown slicked back hair, he sports a well trimmer mustache and full eye brows. He has green eyes and slightly tanned skin.
Clothing: he wears a pair of black trousers and a white shirt that is rolled up at the sleeves, over this he wears a black suit vest and riding chaps. He has a bandolier and side arm holster around his waist and a long arm holster on his back. He wears a black Stetson hat with white trim and formal riding boots.
Weapons: a 1871 Mauser Bolt action rifle, a webely bulldog revolver and a pair of brass knuckles.
Items: in his satchel he has a tape measure (for bodies and coffins), a pair of round brass glasses to read small finicky writing, a ledger to keep count of his clients and how much they pay, a small wad of cash and charts of the area.
Horse: he has a mare with a brown coat and a darker brown mane, like coffee on chocolate. It has a saddle bag with some clothes and more body measuring equipment. Her name is Theodora.
Summery: Howard has been in the undertaker business his whole life, the trade passed down from generation to generation in his family. He use to make quality coffins for both rich and poor alike at appropriate costs, however due to major leaps In medical advancements, customers have been few and far between, so had to get more clients "creativly". He use to shoot a bandit or two in the middle if the night and the state would pay him to make coffins for them because he was the only undertaker in the area. One day he shot one of Bill's lot and they came to him for revenge, burring down the family workshop, so of course he wanted revenge and all the money that came with it.
History: Born in the spring of 1851 to a family who delt with death, Howard was a fairly normal child inspite of the fact he lived with a family of oddly cheery, undertakers and morticians. He, since his childhood was in the business of handling dead bodies and became accustomed to corpses early on, what good undertaker isn't? He was the offspring of an undertaker and a florist, they together monopolized the death business in Yornley, flowers and coffins always went hand in hand and with these two influences developed an eccentric man, flamboyant and charming like his mothers flowers and sympathetic and compassionate from his fathers coffins. At the age of 18 his parents died of the influenza and he had to take over the business from a ripe young age, however it was going badly, medicine had gotten better and people were dying less, the Starkweather Funeral Company was in shambles and Howard could do nothing to stop it. So he moved to Europe where lots of death was going and got in on the action, he worked for all sides and benefited from all of them. After a few months across the pond he returned to nonexsistant company with nonexistent staff so he started from scratch and got into some "ill practices".
Well then read, ain't no one stoppin' ya.
Magnus woke up for the second to the sound of steady clopping, slow and contolled across the hard cobble streets of Damascus. He lifted his head wearily and scanned his surroundings which were nothing but incoherent blurs, he took a few moments to blink and rub his eyes so he could see clearer. The man looked down at the commandeered horse and gave a mirthless chuckle.
"strange dream." he sighed finally and straightened, making himself look as if he'd been riding the horse and not being unconscious.
"Umm, it wasn't a dream." a whisper spoke from the darkness ahead.
Magnus sighed, "first I leave Bethlehem for a desert, then I get infected and now I am a freak that can talk to animals.", he slumped more visibly now he knew he was different, all of a sudden he wished he never left and was tempted to return home and become a supreme inquisitor but that was behind him now. They continued to clop around the back streets, an awkward silence clinging to them as they went.
"So... what's your name?" asked Lelana hesitantly, turning her head towards him but not looking him in the eye.
"Magnus," he replied awkwardly, disbelief still permeating his head "Lelana I presume?" he asked again to keep the conversation rolling. after a few minutes of small talk Magnus grew more relaxed to the fact he was an animal understanding freak, 'this can't be all bad.' he told himself in his mind reassuringly as their banter died down. They clopped down a slightly more well lit road, tidy shop fronts on each side all dark apart from two places, a herbalist and an inn, The Tired Traveller. Both at that point seemed excessivly attractive, one for his and Lelana's wounds and the other to sleep, a stable round the back for his mount, however he decided that the herbalist was the best choice. He agreed with himself that dealing with their wounds were more important then petty sleep. 'not that much more important.'
He hitched Lelana on a convenient post and was about to go in when,
"where ya going?" she called out meekly, making him turn around, she was scuffing her hoof on the cobble, her eyes not meeting his.
"I'm going to go get us something for our wounds," he replied tentatively, slowly coming back to her and lifting her head to see him, "why?"
"just asking you know, I've lost one master and I don't feel like losing another so soon." she looked at him with worried eyes, they glinted in the lamp light of the herbalist. He felt a heavy pang in his heart, looking at the scared horse, she'd probably been through more in that one day then she'd been through het whole life.
'poor thing.'
"I'll be back soon, I promise." he smiled assuringly and walked through the door. after haggaling and a little bit of threatening he secured the needed medicine and strolled out of the store with a smile on his face, he waved the bottle at Lelana and he could have sworn she cracked a small smile. He removed the bandage from her flank and gently applied the soothing serum, rubbing it into her flank in circular strokes. By the time he was done, tiredness had set in and he was in need of a bath and a sleep so he crossed the road to the inn and entered to see if there was an available room.
"strange dream." he sighed finally and straightened, making himself look as if he'd been riding the horse and not being unconscious.
"Umm, it wasn't a dream." a whisper spoke from the darkness ahead.
Magnus sighed, "first I leave Bethlehem for a desert, then I get infected and now I am a freak that can talk to animals.", he slumped more visibly now he knew he was different, all of a sudden he wished he never left and was tempted to return home and become a supreme inquisitor but that was behind him now. They continued to clop around the back streets, an awkward silence clinging to them as they went.
"So... what's your name?" asked Lelana hesitantly, turning her head towards him but not looking him in the eye.
"Magnus," he replied awkwardly, disbelief still permeating his head "Lelana I presume?" he asked again to keep the conversation rolling. after a few minutes of small talk Magnus grew more relaxed to the fact he was an animal understanding freak, 'this can't be all bad.' he told himself in his mind reassuringly as their banter died down. They clopped down a slightly more well lit road, tidy shop fronts on each side all dark apart from two places, a herbalist and an inn, The Tired Traveller. Both at that point seemed excessivly attractive, one for his and Lelana's wounds and the other to sleep, a stable round the back for his mount, however he decided that the herbalist was the best choice. He agreed with himself that dealing with their wounds were more important then petty sleep. 'not that much more important.'
He hitched Lelana on a convenient post and was about to go in when,
"where ya going?" she called out meekly, making him turn around, she was scuffing her hoof on the cobble, her eyes not meeting his.
"I'm going to go get us something for our wounds," he replied tentatively, slowly coming back to her and lifting her head to see him, "why?"
"just asking you know, I've lost one master and I don't feel like losing another so soon." she looked at him with worried eyes, they glinted in the lamp light of the herbalist. He felt a heavy pang in his heart, looking at the scared horse, she'd probably been through more in that one day then she'd been through het whole life.
'poor thing.'
"I'll be back soon, I promise." he smiled assuringly and walked through the door. after haggaling and a little bit of threatening he secured the needed medicine and strolled out of the store with a smile on his face, he waved the bottle at Lelana and he could have sworn she cracked a small smile. He removed the bandage from her flank and gently applied the soothing serum, rubbing it into her flank in circular strokes. By the time he was done, tiredness had set in and he was in need of a bath and a sleep so he crossed the road to the inn and entered to see if there was an available room.
Per capita! I love it!
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