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Bone Fort
Powerbroker
 
Posts: 8148
Founded: Jul 30, 2012
Left-wing Utopia

Postby Bone Fort » Thu Sep 15, 2016 7:00 pm

So guess what terrible mistake Cer and Swith made today?

They invited me back.

#PLAPP
PERSONIFICATION LIFE
CHARACTER APPLICATION
[/hr]

PERSONAL CHARACTERISTICS
Character Name: Bones

Character Gender: Male

Species (nation personification, human, alien, etc): Unholy Abomination Against All of Reality

Age: ????

Appearance: A tall, relatively thin man in dark clothing. Wears a helmet and gasmask. No skin visible. Occasionally glowing red or yellow light emits from one of his mask's eyeholes. Never seems to be from the same one. Other little details seem to change at time. Patches switch shoulders, the doodles on his helmet and mask, etc. Sometimes the changes are greater, like the jacket he's wearing, the model of gasmask or even his exact height gains or loses an inch or so, even comes off as a little fuzzy or indistinct at times. The only constants are the general theme and a small blue star painted on the cheek of his mask.

URL to Character Picture, if any:

Primary Objective: Flitters about like a dog chasing cars, unable to remain focused on any one thing for too long. For the most part working towards ending the God War, as impossible a task that may be.

Secondary Objectives: Whatever happens to amuse him at the moment.

MUNDANE SKILLS
List Mundane skills here: CoOP Tool Character


SPECIALIZED SKILLS AND TALENTS
CoOP Tool Character.


OPTIONAL SUPERNATURAL CHARACTERISTICS
Ability 1: Catch-22
Power Level: CoOP Tool Character
Strengths: See above.
Weaknesses: Second verse, same as the first.
Restrictions: Don't know why you still think you'll find answers.


MAGICAL OR SPECIAL ITEMS
List: CoOP Tool Character


BACKGROUND
Education or Training: "School of Hard Knocks"
Character Background/Biography: The thing that should not be. Him and his ilk are capable of breaking the most fundamental laws of the reality itself, violating existence with their very, err, existence. H̡̜͓̠̖è̷̦͖͚̬̘̟̗̭̩̖̳̭̩̯͍͎̩͜ ̵̛͉̥̖͚̬͓͎̪̖̼̗͕̭͠c̷͖̘̦̥̦͝ò̸͇̲̖̘͔̲̟̮̩̗͇͙̪̱͎̺̕m̷̛̘̞̩̹̪̜̦͕̕͟e͝҉̛̹͉̖̠̳̬̖̯̬̬̘̟̫̲̫ş̶̬̮̰̩͈̱ ̘̖̺̹͜͡͠h҉̸̴̡̱̝͉̮̞̩̪̭̙̬̬͓͚̹͙e̴̢҉̸̜̥̗͍̪̳̦̭̲̼͈͙̻͠ ̨̢̺̤̼̼̤̫͚̤͍͇͡ć͕͈͉͕̥̥̫͘͘ó̷͚͍͎̺̥̰͉̙͙ͅͅm̴̨̢̜͙̫̺̮̩̯ḙ̛̛̹̰̹̩͚̭͇̠̮̳͖͙͜ṣ̷̶̜͈̳̭̩͈̯̼͟͟ ͏̘̪̮̗̝̥͓̼̯̭͚̝̯̀̕ͅh̛̗̻̬̙̯͇̰͕̤̫̤͉̙͟͡ę͝͏͉̮͈̖̫̟̠̝͚̞̹̪̪̠̫ͅ ̡͞͏̸̜̬̬̪̮c̴̺͉͇͇̹͢ó҉̫̰̼̞͚̦͎̘͇̜̞͎̞͟m̧̢͖̗͎͔̺̙̠͓̼̟̖̙̣̫̯̪̫͘e̢̨̢̻̺͉̹͇͍͠s͔̣̗̳̙̫̀͝. Despite this, he is far from the unfriendly, omnicidal monster most would think E̡̜̝̦͓̫̳̦̞̗̭̬̯̭̟̲̕ͅX҉̦͔͙̼̫̯̩͚̝̤̖̩̫̮͟ͅT̶̟̖̼̜̮̝͔̫͇̜̘̳̤̀͘͜͜R̨̢̭͕͖̤̮̮̜̘͝E̕҉̡̨̹̦̥̻͇̥̣̠̻̰̙ͅͅM̛̟͉̟͉̭̺̘̻̀͠ͅE͞҉̷̪̠̠̝͞Ļ͝͏̪̰̼͔̞͍̥̲̩͔̗̖̯̠̹̰̫Y̴͍̠͓̝̝̺̱͞ ̸̛͏̗̦̠͎̣̰D̨̛̥̗͍̥͈͙͘͟Á̡̗̣̠̞̟̤̹͈͍̤̺̣̞͇̖͠Ṋ̸̵͈̺̩͡͞͞G̸̰̼̯̱̭͇̟͖͖͙̦̹̰̲̕͜͠ͅE̴͏̙̪̪̖̱͖̣̥̮͚͓͇̫̱R̵͏͍̫̪̪̀͢O̵̱͔̦͙̬̹̘͠Ú͜͏̜̘̪͔͔̥̗̱͙̗͙̣̕͝S̨̙̠͓͎̠͈̻̣͚̫̲̱͖̪̫̹̕̕ ̸̢͔̞̞̰̳̩͔̠͍̦͓̟̰̱̱̬̙͟D̖̦̦͕̼̙̞̘̹̭͈̪̼̲͎́́̕Ơ̼̜̣̞̫̣̲̦̲̥͉͈̫̘͓͚͘ ҉̨͉̻͈̯́͟͡N̸̴̹͇͉̩̳͇̫̰̟͖ͅǪ͚̲͉͖̹̞̦̥̥̼̰͖̺̱͞͝T̲̬̬̱̲͓͈͉͖̬̫͚͇̟͚͘͝ ̸̛̬̘̘͇̯͉̙͍̞̼̟̺͈̩̭͈̭ͅĄ̶̧̝̥͈̗̫͈̥̟̻̠͕̗̣̩̜̯̱͍P̴̧̨̠͙͈̙̗͍͎̩͝ͅP̷̨̪̼̖̻̹͙̟̥̪̳̞̱͢͝R̷͈̦̻̟͎̮̲͍̙̜͖̫͜͞͞Ò̶̱̲̯̦͕̠̘͔̪̙͍͉̹̖͍̠̪̹̝͠͡A̶͜͟͝҉̤̘̗͖̺̬C̕͡҉̹͓̦̙̪̥̱̹͉̹͚̙Ḩ̵͍̺̗͚̩̝̰͇͖͓̙͇͈̦̪̪̘͟͞.̸̴̼̺̮͇͓̞͔͓̳̫̹͔͔͠͡ and seems to have a (relatively) soft spot for the other inhabitants Ņ̛̗͙̥̫̗͇̰̺̮̳͚͉̝̭̼͠Ǫ̸̵̨̜͇̹̞̺̠͙͙̫̞̘̖̼̞̠̭̜͈͘T̵̷̞̣͕͕̠̰̩̩̟͈͓̠͓̮͖́̀͜ ̧͔̻͎̲̮͇͙̦͕̫̦͖̞̳̝̞͘͜͠ͅḚ̴̶̷̼̖̯͇̘̳̯̗͞ͅV̴̨͏̶̴̱̲̲̟͔̬̟̪̘͈͍̪͎̘È̱̫̟̺̳̼̹̞͖̰͚͔͟N̢̹͕̞̻͙̯̠̲̞̳͔͚̗̮̬̺͍͠͡͝ ̀҉̳̬̠̣̭̗͈͕̳̯͔̲̘͚̤̰̩T͙̰̙̜̺̠͈͠ͅH̨̺̜̖̗͍̠́É̸̮̜͙̫͟͟ͅ ̛̘̖̦͈͔̼͇̮́G̸̡͈̖̬͙͈̭̖͈̩͖̰͓͖̘̻̹̹̀͢Ò͚͔̪̫̹̖͓̰̼̟̫͔̥̹͇̀D̷̵̬̰̫͈͓̘̼̞̣̪̲̣Ş̸̦͓͔̠͇̻̙̬̫̭̬̝̩̩͖̭̺ͅ ̴̴̲̤̲͎̼̣̘̙̠̖̹̟̤̲̼͙̮ͅḀ̡̹̭͈̝̯̜̜̞͕̬̰̤̱̯͓̮͇͘R̡̦͙͇̦͓̟͕̬̯̜̖̗̝͙͍̰͇͎͟ͅE̷͘͘͘҉̖̹̣͚͓̦ ̵͖͈̟̯̟̹͍̜̗̬͉̘̝͔͉̪̮͙̀͜͝͞Ș̠͔̲̲̳̰̣̣͍͠A̵̴̦̱̥͕̺F̷̢̞̯͖̭͈̼͚̬̳̠͜͞E̷̗͇̘̻̟̜̮̬̲̫̜͎̙̮̻̮͞͞ of the building, even curtailing his habit of random abductions and vivisection for their sake. Ḑ̴̴͚̺͚̘̮Ó̡̨̠̲̪̘̙͎̕N̛̹̖̪̝̘͓̱̮͇͖̰̖͈͈̗̞̪͞'̨̢͏̙̠̰͍̝͔̤̟̭̭̥̫̘͍͉T̷̷̴̫̰̬͖̱̭̮͔̮͍̺͇͚͖́ͅ ̷̢͍̭̜͠B̴̵̨̲̣̟͔̣̣̩̺͙͜͡E̶̡̛̘̤̙͕̟͙̞̱̭̰͈͙͉̹͙̼̝͘L̡̞̘̫̱̺͎̝̲̭̙̖̝̻̝̙͉̪͇̜̀̕I͏̛̭͈̥̟̮̟̘̺̠̮̭͔̬͢E҉͚̘̭̩͇̬̮̱V̷̴̧̩̗͇͎͈̜͓̯͔̥͜͝Ę̧̀͢͏̯̺͓͇̟͇̦͈͍̬̣̘̞̳̤ͅͅ ҉̢̛͢҉̙͕̰̦͕͕̖̤H҉̵̧̢̫̠̩̱̻̝̜̱̰͞I̲̳̲̻̱̥̹͘͟S̩͉͚̕͝ ̶̛̼̻̫̗̻̭̦̯̬̠̥̕͞Ļ̷́͠҉̬̞̮̹̠͕̜̹̯͕͚ͅÍ̧̗̳̜ͅͅḚ̴̠̠̺̼̲̣̞͟S̶̴̷̢̹̻̞̺͚͕̱̜̠͢ ̴̢͇̰̺͉͔̖͙̞H̵̸̺̗̭̼̥̭E҉̸̡̣͚͕͉̩̤͇̣̗̗̜͙̺͈͓̖̟̤͟͞ ̛͓͙̲͓̰̜͈̩͔͚͉̦̞̀͝ͅW̵̡̩͍͚̜̘͢A͏̶̧̳̺̲̙̮̺͉͎͚I͏̨̧̖̩̲͈̰͉̠̳̩͚̪̕͝ͅT̵̷̸̨̪̲̝̕ͅŞ̞͈̦̪͔͓͖͔̞̫͇́͘͠͠ in his apartment with his siblings, the Ń̷̴̵͇̖̺̙̙̲̗̤̱͇̺̗̦͍͔͍͚̯͞Ò͏̪̘̬̙̝̲̣̘̩̹͎̜̬̟ ̷͖̣̳̳̰̘͙̳̫̱̜̘̹̬̯̖͞͞ͅͅH̶̛͍̮͍̣͇̫̝͉Ò̬̥̙̣͟P҉̶̛͍͉͓͙̼̪̥̞͇̫̤̦͘ͅÉ̷̴̸̠̤̱̖̫͖͙͇͈̠̠̬̤͎̜͢ ́͜͞͏̷̰͉̹͚̘̘̜̠̖̜̗̯Ń̸̛͉̺̭͉͈͔̺̰͇̜͍̳ͅO̠͔͚͚͔͓̥̫͟͟ͅ ̢̛̖͙̲̘̥͎̣̪͔͚͈̻́̀R̷͈̬̙̠̱͚̳̕͜͠Ę̨̛͖̗̹͓͞͡S̶̡̡͕͎͎̞̘̻̤̩͉̘͉͎͖̭͓̦̘͈͟ͅP̧̬̟̩̯͕̫̙͙̺̭̤̙̬͇͙̕I҉̵̷̰͎̯̙͈̰̤͎̝̻́ͅT҉̴̡̰̯̱͈̀͞É̮̰̪͈̘̕ͅ most prominent of which are Herr Doktor and Totenkopf.


OTHER GAME MECHANICS
URL to Apartment Picture: http://farm3.staticflickr.com/2046/5737 ... 1d23_z.jpg
Link to RP examples: (this MUST be a DIRECT LINK to your IC post in an RP, NOT a link to the RP thread itself. If you don't have examples, make your biography good.)

IMPORTANT:
One paragraph that sums up your character. This paragraph is what we'll use on your player tab on the first page of the thread. This MUST be brief. Your tab will contain a link to your application so people will have full details
Character Name: Bones
Brief Description: A thing that should not be. Mere existence violates the most fundamental law, that Greater Beings can't die... or so he likes to say, the prick.
Me summed up in one sentence.

I wear teal, blue & pink for Swith.

User avatar
Torsiedelle
Post Marshal
 
Posts: 18306
Founded: Dec 03, 2010
Democratic Socialists

Postby Torsiedelle » Thu Sep 15, 2016 7:23 pm

I'm mildly unimpressed.

Hello.
Last edited by Torsiedelle on Thu Sep 15, 2016 7:32 pm, edited 2 times in total.
Rostavykhan is my Second Nation.
⋘EXCELSIOR⋙
To Cool For School

User avatar
Cerillium
Senior P2TM RP Mentor
 
Posts: 12454
Founded: Oct 27, 2012
New York Times Democracy

Postby Cerillium » Thu Sep 15, 2016 7:28 pm

Bone Fort wrote:So guess what terrible mistake Cer and Swith made today?

They invited me back.

#PLAPP
PERSONIFICATION LIFE
CHARACTER APPLICATION
[/hr]

PERSONAL CHARACTERISTICS
Character Name: Bones

Character Gender: Male

Species (nation personification, human, alien, etc): Unholy Abomination Against All of Reality

Age: ????

Appearance: A tall, relatively thin man in dark clothing. Wears a helmet and gasmask. No skin visible. Occasionally glowing red or yellow light emits from one of his mask's eyeholes. Never seems to be from the same one. Other little details seem to change at time. Patches switch shoulders, the doodles on his helmet and mask, etc. Sometimes the changes are greater, like the jacket he's wearing, the model of gasmask or even his exact height gains or loses an inch or so, even comes off as a little fuzzy or indistinct at times. The only constants are the general theme and a small blue star painted on the cheek of his mask.

URL to Character Picture, if any:

Primary Objective: Flitters about like a dog chasing cars, unable to remain focused on any one thing for too long. For the most part working towards ending the God War, as impossible a task that may be.

Secondary Objectives: Whatever happens to amuse him at the moment.

MUNDANE SKILLS
List Mundane skills here: CoOP Tool Character


SPECIALIZED SKILLS AND TALENTS
CoOP Tool Character.


OPTIONAL SUPERNATURAL CHARACTERISTICS
Ability 1: Catch-22
Power Level: CoOP Tool Character
Strengths: See above.
Weaknesses: Second verse, same as the first.
Restrictions: Don't know why you still think you'll find answers.


MAGICAL OR SPECIAL ITEMS
List: CoOP Tool Character


BACKGROUND
Education or Training: "School of Hard Knocks"
Character Background/Biography: The thing that should not be. Him and his ilk are capable of breaking the most fundamental laws of the reality itself, violating existence with their very, err, existence. H̡̜͓̠̖è̷̦͖͚̬̘̟̗̭̩̖̳̭̩̯͍͎̩͜ ̵̛͉̥̖͚̬͓͎̪̖̼̗͕̭͠c̷͖̘̦̥̦͝ò̸͇̲̖̘͔̲̟̮̩̗͇͙̪̱͎̺̕m̷̛̘̞̩̹̪̜̦͕̕͟e͝҉̛̹͉̖̠̳̬̖̯̬̬̘̟̫̲̫ş̶̬̮̰̩͈̱ ̘̖̺̹͜͡͠h҉̸̴̡̱̝͉̮̞̩̪̭̙̬̬͓͚̹͙e̴̢҉̸̜̥̗͍̪̳̦̭̲̼͈͙̻͠ ̨̢̺̤̼̼̤̫͚̤͍͇͡ć͕͈͉͕̥̥̫͘͘ó̷͚͍͎̺̥̰͉̙͙ͅͅm̴̨̢̜͙̫̺̮̩̯ḙ̛̛̹̰̹̩͚̭͇̠̮̳͖͙͜ṣ̷̶̜͈̳̭̩͈̯̼͟͟ ͏̘̪̮̗̝̥͓̼̯̭͚̝̯̀̕ͅh̛̗̻̬̙̯͇̰͕̤̫̤͉̙͟͡ę͝͏͉̮͈̖̫̟̠̝͚̞̹̪̪̠̫ͅ ̡͞͏̸̜̬̬̪̮c̴̺͉͇͇̹͢ó҉̫̰̼̞͚̦͎̘͇̜̞͎̞͟m̧̢͖̗͎͔̺̙̠͓̼̟̖̙̣̫̯̪̫͘e̢̨̢̻̺͉̹͇͍͠s͔̣̗̳̙̫̀͝. Despite this, he is far from the unfriendly, omnicidal monster most would think E̡̜̝̦͓̫̳̦̞̗̭̬̯̭̟̲̕ͅX҉̦͔͙̼̫̯̩͚̝̤̖̩̫̮͟ͅT̶̟̖̼̜̮̝͔̫͇̜̘̳̤̀͘͜͜R̨̢̭͕͖̤̮̮̜̘͝E̕҉̡̨̹̦̥̻͇̥̣̠̻̰̙ͅͅM̛̟͉̟͉̭̺̘̻̀͠ͅE͞҉̷̪̠̠̝͞Ļ͝͏̪̰̼͔̞͍̥̲̩͔̗̖̯̠̹̰̫Y̴͍̠͓̝̝̺̱͞ ̸̛͏̗̦̠͎̣̰D̨̛̥̗͍̥͈͙͘͟Á̡̗̣̠̞̟̤̹͈͍̤̺̣̞͇̖͠Ṋ̸̵͈̺̩͡͞͞G̸̰̼̯̱̭͇̟͖͖͙̦̹̰̲̕͜͠ͅE̴͏̙̪̪̖̱͖̣̥̮͚͓͇̫̱R̵͏͍̫̪̪̀͢O̵̱͔̦͙̬̹̘͠Ú͜͏̜̘̪͔͔̥̗̱͙̗͙̣̕͝S̨̙̠͓͎̠͈̻̣͚̫̲̱͖̪̫̹̕̕ ̸̢͔̞̞̰̳̩͔̠͍̦͓̟̰̱̱̬̙͟D̖̦̦͕̼̙̞̘̹̭͈̪̼̲͎́́̕Ơ̼̜̣̞̫̣̲̦̲̥͉͈̫̘͓͚͘ ҉̨͉̻͈̯́͟͡N̸̴̹͇͉̩̳͇̫̰̟͖ͅǪ͚̲͉͖̹̞̦̥̥̼̰͖̺̱͞͝T̲̬̬̱̲͓͈͉͖̬̫͚͇̟͚͘͝ ̸̛̬̘̘͇̯͉̙͍̞̼̟̺͈̩̭͈̭ͅĄ̶̧̝̥͈̗̫͈̥̟̻̠͕̗̣̩̜̯̱͍P̴̧̨̠͙͈̙̗͍͎̩͝ͅP̷̨̪̼̖̻̹͙̟̥̪̳̞̱͢͝R̷͈̦̻̟͎̮̲͍̙̜͖̫͜͞͞Ò̶̱̲̯̦͕̠̘͔̪̙͍͉̹̖͍̠̪̹̝͠͡A̶͜͟͝҉̤̘̗͖̺̬C̕͡҉̹͓̦̙̪̥̱̹͉̹͚̙Ḩ̵͍̺̗͚̩̝̰͇͖͓̙͇͈̦̪̪̘͟͞.̸̴̼̺̮͇͓̞͔͓̳̫̹͔͔͠͡ and seems to have a (relatively) soft spot for the other inhabitants Ņ̛̗͙̥̫̗͇̰̺̮̳͚͉̝̭̼͠Ǫ̸̵̨̜͇̹̞̺̠͙͙̫̞̘̖̼̞̠̭̜͈͘T̵̷̞̣͕͕̠̰̩̩̟͈͓̠͓̮͖́̀͜ ̧͔̻͎̲̮͇͙̦͕̫̦͖̞̳̝̞͘͜͠ͅḚ̴̶̷̼̖̯͇̘̳̯̗͞ͅV̴̨͏̶̴̱̲̲̟͔̬̟̪̘͈͍̪͎̘È̱̫̟̺̳̼̹̞͖̰͚͔͟N̢̹͕̞̻͙̯̠̲̞̳͔͚̗̮̬̺͍͠͡͝ ̀҉̳̬̠̣̭̗͈͕̳̯͔̲̘͚̤̰̩T͙̰̙̜̺̠͈͠ͅH̨̺̜̖̗͍̠́É̸̮̜͙̫͟͟ͅ ̛̘̖̦͈͔̼͇̮́G̸̡͈̖̬͙͈̭̖͈̩͖̰͓͖̘̻̹̹̀͢Ò͚͔̪̫̹̖͓̰̼̟̫͔̥̹͇̀D̷̵̬̰̫͈͓̘̼̞̣̪̲̣Ş̸̦͓͔̠͇̻̙̬̫̭̬̝̩̩͖̭̺ͅ ̴̴̲̤̲͎̼̣̘̙̠̖̹̟̤̲̼͙̮ͅḀ̡̹̭͈̝̯̜̜̞͕̬̰̤̱̯͓̮͇͘R̡̦͙͇̦͓̟͕̬̯̜̖̗̝͙͍̰͇͎͟ͅE̷͘͘͘҉̖̹̣͚͓̦ ̵͖͈̟̯̟̹͍̜̗̬͉̘̝͔͉̪̮͙̀͜͝͞Ș̠͔̲̲̳̰̣̣͍͠A̵̴̦̱̥͕̺F̷̢̞̯͖̭͈̼͚̬̳̠͜͞E̷̗͇̘̻̟̜̮̬̲̫̜͎̙̮̻̮͞͞ of the building, even curtailing his habit of random abductions and vivisection for their sake. Ḑ̴̴͚̺͚̘̮Ó̡̨̠̲̪̘̙͎̕N̛̹̖̪̝̘͓̱̮͇͖̰̖͈͈̗̞̪͞'̨̢͏̙̠̰͍̝͔̤̟̭̭̥̫̘͍͉T̷̷̴̫̰̬͖̱̭̮͔̮͍̺͇͚͖́ͅ ̷̢͍̭̜͠B̴̵̨̲̣̟͔̣̣̩̺͙͜͡E̶̡̛̘̤̙͕̟͙̞̱̭̰͈͙͉̹͙̼̝͘L̡̞̘̫̱̺͎̝̲̭̙̖̝̻̝̙͉̪͇̜̀̕I͏̛̭͈̥̟̮̟̘̺̠̮̭͔̬͢E҉͚̘̭̩͇̬̮̱V̷̴̧̩̗͇͎͈̜͓̯͔̥͜͝Ę̧̀͢͏̯̺͓͇̟͇̦͈͍̬̣̘̞̳̤ͅͅ ҉̢̛͢҉̙͕̰̦͕͕̖̤H҉̵̧̢̫̠̩̱̻̝̜̱̰͞I̲̳̲̻̱̥̹͘͟S̩͉͚̕͝ ̶̛̼̻̫̗̻̭̦̯̬̠̥̕͞Ļ̷́͠҉̬̞̮̹̠͕̜̹̯͕͚ͅÍ̧̗̳̜ͅͅḚ̴̠̠̺̼̲̣̞͟S̶̴̷̢̹̻̞̺͚͕̱̜̠͢ ̴̢͇̰̺͉͔̖͙̞H̵̸̺̗̭̼̥̭E҉̸̡̣͚͕͉̩̤͇̣̗̗̜͙̺͈͓̖̟̤͟͞ ̛͓͙̲͓̰̜͈̩͔͚͉̦̞̀͝ͅW̵̡̩͍͚̜̘͢A͏̶̧̳̺̲̙̮̺͉͎͚I͏̨̧̖̩̲͈̰͉̠̳̩͚̪̕͝ͅT̵̷̸̨̪̲̝̕ͅŞ̞͈̦̪͔͓͖͔̞̫͇́͘͠͠ in his apartment with his siblings, the Ń̷̴̵͇̖̺̙̙̲̗̤̱͇̺̗̦͍͔͍͚̯͞Ò͏̪̘̬̙̝̲̣̘̩̹͎̜̬̟ ̷͖̣̳̳̰̘͙̳̫̱̜̘̹̬̯̖͞͞ͅͅH̶̛͍̮͍̣͇̫̝͉Ò̬̥̙̣͟P҉̶̛͍͉͓͙̼̪̥̞͇̫̤̦͘ͅÉ̷̴̸̠̤̱̖̫͖͙͇͈̠̠̬̤͎̜͢ ́͜͞͏̷̰͉̹͚̘̘̜̠̖̜̗̯Ń̸̛͉̺̭͉͈͔̺̰͇̜͍̳ͅO̠͔͚͚͔͓̥̫͟͟ͅ ̢̛̖͙̲̘̥͎̣̪͔͚͈̻́̀R̷͈̬̙̠̱͚̳̕͜͠Ę̨̛͖̗̹͓͞͡S̶̡̡͕͎͎̞̘̻̤̩͉̘͉͎͖̭͓̦̘͈͟ͅP̧̬̟̩̯͕̫̙͙̺̭̤̙̬͇͙̕I҉̵̷̰͎̯̙͈̰̤͎̝̻́ͅT҉̴̡̰̯̱͈̀͞É̮̰̪͈̘̕ͅ most prominent of which are Herr Doktor and Totenkopf.


OTHER GAME MECHANICS
URL to Apartment Picture: http://farm3.staticflickr.com/2046/5737 ... 1d23_z.jpg
Link to RP examples: (this MUST be a DIRECT LINK to your IC post in an RP, NOT a link to the RP thread itself. If you don't have examples, make your biography good.)

IMPORTANT:
One paragraph that sums up your character. This paragraph is what we'll use on your player tab on the first page of the thread. This MUST be brief. Your tab will contain a link to your application so people will have full details
Character Name: Bones
Brief Description: A thing that should not be. Mere existence violates the most fundamental law, that Greater Beings can't die... or so he likes to say, the prick.

Today? It was over a month in the making. Approved.
I wear teal, blue & pink for Swith
There is a fifth dimension beyond that which is known to man. It is a dimension as vast as space and as timeless as infinity. It is the middle ground between light and shadow, between science and superstition, and it lies between the pit of man’s fears, and the summit of his knowledge. This is the dimension of imagination.

User avatar
Bone Fort
Powerbroker
 
Posts: 8148
Founded: Jul 30, 2012
Left-wing Utopia

Postby Bone Fort » Thu Sep 15, 2016 7:36 pm

Cerillium wrote:Today? It was over a month in the making. Approved.


What? How did you escape? Those were some heavy chains I bound you and Swith in. And I leaned a chair against the door. Hello again Cer. And it was just short of five actually.
Me summed up in one sentence.

I wear teal, blue & pink for Swith.

User avatar
Cerillium
Senior P2TM RP Mentor
 
Posts: 12454
Founded: Oct 27, 2012
New York Times Democracy

Postby Cerillium » Thu Sep 15, 2016 7:37 pm

One-Shot challenge. Characters borrowed with their owners' permission, ship sailed without their knowledge.

The mirror’s silvery surface captured darkened pools, the shores of which were naught but a myriad of tattletale crinkles entrenching twin fathomless pupils. These floated in a pudding of bloodshot sclera, the tattletale manifestation of his own fatigue. The shade of each iris held no importance; few who chanced to gaze upon them lived long enough to whisper their observations to others.

The meager light cast by the tableside candle played havoc with his skin, rudely illuminating the flesh caught in its umber glow while tossing shadow upon the opposite side. It distorted his features and, not for the first time in his life, he vaguely wondered if others would look upon his raw countenance and cringe. His visage was the broken-winged robin thrashing about the field, and unwholesome creature tormented by the gods and left stranded. Such was his lot. Such was his choice.

Gloved hands plucked the golden mask from the polished wood. Nimbly they turned it to present the blackened lining for his inspection, and then it raised slowly and the magic imbued within fetched wispy tendrils towards his cheeks. It was a lover’s caress turned bitter, as insistent as nails clawing his back to urge him into completion. There was no petite mort in his future. The only release he would accept was death itself. And so he welcomed the intensity of pain radiating from his flesh as the mask fastened itself in place.

The sharp rapport of heels on marble reached his ear, and hands slipped to his cloak’s mantle to draw the hood. Insidious emerged from the crypt shortly after, passing him by without so much as a greeting. Good. Go, you simpering little bitch. He was never a patron of the arts. He thought her work tame and puerile. And she, for all her cruel love of misery, thought him nothing but a bitter old soldier past his prime –nothing more than a servant occupying space and resources when not disposing of the trash from their embassy. He spared her no look. There wasn’t any need. His feelings about her, and or even of the Ambassador, were of no consequence. Not in the grand scheme of things.

The door to her artisan’s workshop clicked shut. He paused, waiting until the rising screams indicated she was engrossed in her newest subject matter, and then gloved fingers pinched the wick to suffocate the flame.

His cloak’s heavy folds billowed about his legs as he strode down the hall. Watchful and protective spirits recoiled into the woodwork to avoid him as though his touch were toxic. To them, perhaps it was. Or perhaps it was that they sensed his mood and wished for nothing more than to be left in peace. Their whispers followed him – wheezed hisses and dissonant curses could not hold his imagination captive. This was his domain; he would not entertain their nonsense nor be fooled by their technique. Yet their insanity-song lingered in his mind as he left the embassy and stepped into the bright Building hall: you are empty; you are alone; you are nothing and your soul is ours.

The leather encasing his hand groaned as he tightened his fist. He thought at first to strike the wooden door, to leave a mark and scatter the spirits back into hiding. Such an act was pointless of course. He bowed, perhaps to his own futile fate, and departed.

Gallimaufry’s twin moons glared over his shoulders as he shambled down the gravel road towards the village. Though his footfalls remained soundless the crickets and other nocturnal creatures grew silent. Malaise radiated from him, a herald to what was to come, and the knowledge pleased him. Let them cringe in their dens and behind their leaves. Winter would strip their shelter from them soon enough and they would succumb to the cold. Everything withered and died in the end.

“Why do you always walk into the darkness?”

The voice was as unexpected as it was unsettling, as was her emergence from his shadow. He paused rather than trample her, his lip curling under his mask.

“Naomi, what do you want?” The tone was not polite.

The god’s head tilted to the left. Did she really find his question so confusing? She turned her face up at him and he caught the glimmer of the moons reflected in her eyes. Her arms extended to present a knitted grey blob. “I made this for you. It’s a scarf.”

Obviously. Seconds passed and the wind rose to play with her untidy hair and his own cloak. He sighed. “Why would you do that?”

The head tilted towards the right. “Because I love you.”

Ah, love. The silly bitch loved everyone. She was the personification of that emotion. Pathetic, weak, and as useless as the god standing before him. “I do not need your love.”

“I know. But you need a scarf. It’s almost winter.”

He accepted the foul gesture of her friendship without further argument. Better to get it over with and dispatch her quickly than to argue with her. He would burn the damn thing later. “This is not necessary but I thank y-”

“Shh,” a fingertip pressed itself against the immovable lips forged into the golden mask’s surface. “I know. I wanted to find a way to thank you for showing me that beautiful sky. Remember? Before we left Bielefeld?” Her visage twitched then, betraying her mood. Fingers wrought around themselves as she squirmed. She seemed at a loss to convey the dark thoughts nibbling at the fringes of her presumably perpetual joy. Her vibrant eyes glazed as tears welled and obscured the delicate filigree of his mask.

“Naomi-” he placed a hand on her shoulder to stem whatever childish nonsense was soon to emerge, but this was a mistake.

She drew a hitched breath from him as she curled herself into what little warm his body provided, her face burrowing into his chest. “I want to go home, Aegis. Can we go home?”

Her whispers mingled with those of the spirits in the hall and the soft groan of the wind. This was a child’s plea borne upon the wings of innocence rather than calculating dance of manipulation. So genuine was her hopeless emotion that he at first thought it had stemmed from within himself. Naomi was not one to crack. Yet hadn’t she, once before? Hadn’t the rumors flown of her loss of sanity and her homicidal bid to snuff all she loved? So bleak was her state that the gods turned their backs upon her. Aegis found himself wondering how he would conduct himself if all the universe expected him to remain upbeat and on kilter. Would his fortitude wane in time? He shuddered.

“Naomi, this isn’t necessary.”

His words fell on deaf ears. Her slender shoulders rose and fell as the tears began to stream. His cloak held the stains of many bodily fluids, all acquired by the savagery of his own hand, yet these new salty droplets horrified him. An odd thought flittered through his corrupted mind: how many tears had she shed on his behalf?

He departed the Building once before, offering her nothing by means of goodbye but a framed photograph of his actual face. She had never commented upon the gift. It was possible she had glanced at it and, repulsed, tossed it into a drawer or other gloomy place. Yet now he wasn’t so sure. His mind’s eye sculpted a scene before he could change his thoughts: the little god, always so upbeat, crumpled on the floor and weeping over the loss of a friend. That’s what he was to her, undoubtedly. Though he didn’t consider her anything more than an embarrassment (for all Chaos beings had a reputation to uphold), she saw him as somebody worthy of her-

“Enough, Naomi. We can’t go home,” his gloved fingers slipped between the strands of her hair to caress her scalp. Poor creature. She was as cut off from her pantheon as surely as he was from his own. “We’re trapped here. This is a gods forsaken hell hole.” He spoke as though addressing a small child caught up in a nightmare. For both of them, Gallimaufry was such.

Another thought bit at his consciousness: What if they were to run away? Take a Gate and flee? They could seek their own fortunes once more, returning to the service of their pantheons.

Aegis stepped back and gently extracted her small hands from his cloak. Her heart-shaped face lifted, her bottom lip quivering at the thought of his rejection. He sighed. Running away wasn’t the answer of course. It would mean doing the one thing he dreaded – allowing another individual to become close to him. Naomi and her love held the power necessary to banish degeneracy from his mind, to restore him, to heal his heart. Nonsense! He was in no need of healing. There was nothing amiss in his Luxan ways or habits. Yet this woman saw past his perversions and propensity for violence. The sum of his existence was easily calculated upon her pale fingers and, having tallied it in full, she did not reject him nor wish ill upon him.

She blinked away the last of her tears. His resolve wavered and, for the first time in his existence, he considered the joy to be had at a release that was not quite death itself. He suspected that her fingers would caress rather than clutch, and-

“Thank you for the scarf,” he looped the object around his neck and cast a tail over his shoulder. “You should go home and rest.” There. Finality. The temptation was put to bed. He snuffed the flames of love as easily as he had the candle in the hall.

Or so he wanted desperately to believe. Yet his heart felt otherwise as he watched her draw her shawl more tightly about her shoulders. She took to her tiptoes to plant a tender kiss upon the cold mask, “I’m glad you like the scarf. There’s spider silk in there.” Without another word, she departed from him.

Befuddled, his heart demanded he follow her back to the Building, and only his training kept him rooted to the spot as she vanished over the moor.

Aegis removed his glove to caress the material warming his neck. Fingers, so accustomed to detecting magic, felt the bitter traces of agony interlaced with the wool. It wasn’t cobwebs. The god had tortured the silk out of the spiders. He made no effort to suppress the delicious shudder.

Moonlight glinted off his mask as he strode towards the Building. The village was forgotten, as was his resolve to remain mired in his own torments. He passed a familiar form in the lobby. The lip once again curled into a sneer. Bones. Yet he was too late and, in his absence - well, to the victor goes the spoils.

- To be continued, maybe.
I wear teal, blue & pink for Swith
There is a fifth dimension beyond that which is known to man. It is a dimension as vast as space and as timeless as infinity. It is the middle ground between light and shadow, between science and superstition, and it lies between the pit of man’s fears, and the summit of his knowledge. This is the dimension of imagination.

User avatar
Cerillium
Senior P2TM RP Mentor
 
Posts: 12454
Founded: Oct 27, 2012
New York Times Democracy

Postby Cerillium » Thu Sep 15, 2016 7:40 pm

Bone Fort wrote:
Cerillium wrote:Today? It was over a month in the making. Approved.


What? How did you escape? Those were some heavy chains I bound you and Swith in. And I leaned a chair against the door. Hello again Cer. And it was just short of five actually.

Or six.

Where do you want to start? Apartment, or outside the dimension. We'll have to have people go collect Bones if you're coming through a Gate.
I wear teal, blue & pink for Swith
There is a fifth dimension beyond that which is known to man. It is a dimension as vast as space and as timeless as infinity. It is the middle ground between light and shadow, between science and superstition, and it lies between the pit of man’s fears, and the summit of his knowledge. This is the dimension of imagination.

User avatar
Tiltjuice
Post Czar
 
Posts: 33937
Founded: Jan 20, 2012
Inoffensive Centrist Democracy

Postby Tiltjuice » Thu Sep 15, 2016 7:42 pm

*gnaws Bones*

Nice one, Cer.
I wear teal, blue, pink & red for Swith. | ✎ Member - ℘ædagog
Discrimination is unworthy. | Beauty is not in the face; beauty is a light in the heart. -Khalil Gibran

User avatar
Bone Fort
Powerbroker
 
Posts: 8148
Founded: Jul 30, 2012
Left-wing Utopia

Postby Bone Fort » Thu Sep 15, 2016 7:44 pm

Cerillium wrote:Or six.

Where do you want to start? Apartment, or outside the dimension. We'll have to have people go collect Bones if you're coming through a Gate.


What do you mean, start? I never left, remember?

*winks*
Me summed up in one sentence.

I wear teal, blue & pink for Swith.

User avatar
Cerillium
Senior P2TM RP Mentor
 
Posts: 12454
Founded: Oct 27, 2012
New York Times Democracy

Postby Cerillium » Thu Sep 15, 2016 7:49 pm

We're over in #NSP.

Edit: I'll finish coding the archive tomorrow.
Last edited by Cerillium on Thu Sep 15, 2016 8:15 pm, edited 1 time in total.
I wear teal, blue & pink for Swith
There is a fifth dimension beyond that which is known to man. It is a dimension as vast as space and as timeless as infinity. It is the middle ground between light and shadow, between science and superstition, and it lies between the pit of man’s fears, and the summit of his knowledge. This is the dimension of imagination.

User avatar
Swith Witherward
Senior P2TM RP Mentor
 
Posts: 30302
Founded: Feb 11, 2012
Democratic Socialists

Postby Swith Witherward » Thu Sep 15, 2016 8:53 pm

Cerillium wrote:One-Shot challenge. Characters borrowed with their owners' permission, ship sailed without their knowledge.

The mirror’s silvery surface captured darkened pools, the shores of which were naught but a myriad of tattletale crinkles entrenching twin fathomless pupils. These floated in a pudding of bloodshot sclera, the tattletale manifestation of his own fatigue. The shade of each iris held no importance; few who chanced to gaze upon them lived long enough to whisper their observations to others.

The meager light cast by the tableside candle played havoc with his skin, rudely illuminating the flesh caught in its umber glow while tossing shadow upon the opposite side. It distorted his features and, not for the first time in his life, he vaguely wondered if others would look upon his raw countenance and cringe. His visage was the broken-winged robin thrashing about the field, and unwholesome creature tormented by the gods and left stranded. Such was his lot. Such was his choice.

Gloved hands plucked the golden mask from the polished wood. Nimbly they turned it to present the blackened lining for his inspection, and then it raised slowly and the magic imbued within fetched wispy tendrils towards his cheeks. It was a lover’s caress turned bitter, as insistent as nails clawing his back to urge him into completion. There was no petite mort in his future. The only release he would accept was death itself. And so he welcomed the intensity of pain radiating from his flesh as the mask fastened itself in place.

The sharp rapport of heels on marble reached his ear, and hands slipped to his cloak’s mantle to draw the hood. Insidious emerged from the crypt shortly after, passing him by without so much as a greeting. Good. Go, you simpering little bitch. He was never a patron of the arts. He thought her work tame and puerile. And she, for all her cruel love of misery, thought him nothing but a bitter old soldier past his prime –nothing more than a servant occupying space and resources when not disposing of the trash from their embassy. He spared her no look. There wasn’t any need. His feelings about her, and or even of the Ambassador, were of no consequence. Not in the grand scheme of things.

The door to her artisan’s workshop clicked shut. He paused, waiting until the rising screams indicated she was engrossed in her newest subject matter, and then gloved fingers pinched the wick to suffocate the flame.

His cloak’s heavy folds billowed about his legs as he strode down the hall. Watchful and protective spirits recoiled into the woodwork to avoid him as though his touch were toxic. To them, perhaps it was. Or perhaps it was that they sensed his mood and wished for nothing more than to be left in peace. Their whispers followed him – wheezed hisses and dissonant curses could not hold his imagination captive. This was his domain; he would not entertain their nonsense nor be fooled by their technique. Yet their insanity-song lingered in his mind as he left the embassy and stepped into the bright Building hall: you are empty; you are alone; you are nothing and your soul is ours.

The leather encasing his hand groaned as he tightened his fist. He thought at first to strike the wooden door, to leave a mark and scatter the spirits back into hiding. Such an act was pointless of course. He bowed, perhaps to his own futile fate, and departed.

Gallimaufry’s twin moons glared over his shoulders as he shambled down the gravel road towards the village. Though his footfalls remained soundless the crickets and other nocturnal creatures grew silent. Malaise radiated from him, a herald to what was to come, and the knowledge pleased him. Let them cringe in their dens and behind their leaves. Winter would strip their shelter from them soon enough and they would succumb to the cold. Everything withered and died in the end.

“Why do you always walk into the darkness?”

The voice was as unexpected as it was unsettling, as was her emergence from his shadow. He paused rather than trample her, his lip curling under his mask.

“Naomi, what do you want?” The tone was not polite.

The god’s head tilted to the left. Did she really find his question so confusing? She turned her face up at him and he caught the glimmer of the moons reflected in her eyes. Her arms extended to present a knitted grey blob. “I made this for you. It’s a scarf.”

Obviously. Seconds passed and the wind rose to play with her untidy hair and his own cloak. He sighed. “Why would you do that?”

The head tilted towards the right. “Because I love you.”

Ah, love. The silly bitch loved everyone. She was the personification of that emotion. Pathetic, weak, and as useless as the god standing before him. “I do not need your love.”

“I know. But you need a scarf. It’s almost winter.”

He accepted the foul gesture of her friendship without further argument. Better to get it over with and dispatch her quickly than to argue with her. He would burn the damn thing later. “This is not necessary but I thank y-”

“Shh,” a fingertip pressed itself against the immovable lips forged into the golden mask’s surface. “I know. I wanted to find a way to thank you for showing me that beautiful sky. Remember? Before we left Bielefeld?” Her visage twitched then, betraying her mood. Fingers wrought around themselves as she squirmed. She seemed at a loss to convey the dark thoughts nibbling at the fringes of her presumably perpetual joy. Her vibrant eyes glazed as tears welled and obscured the delicate filigree of his mask.

“Naomi-” he placed a hand on her shoulder to stem whatever childish nonsense was soon to emerge, but this was a mistake.

She drew a hitched breath from him as she curled herself into what little warm his body provided, her face burrowing into his chest. “I want to go home, Aegis. Can we go home?”

Her whispers mingled with those of the spirits in the hall and the soft groan of the wind. This was a child’s plea borne upon the wings of innocence rather than calculating dance of manipulation. So genuine was her hopeless emotion that he at first thought it had stemmed from within himself. Naomi was not one to crack. Yet hadn’t she, once before? Hadn’t the rumors flown of her loss of sanity and her homicidal bid to snuff all she loved? So bleak was her state that the gods turned their backs upon her. Aegis found himself wondering how he would conduct himself if all the universe expected him to remain upbeat and on kilter. Would his fortitude wane in time? He shuddered.

“Naomi, this isn’t necessary.”

His words fell on deaf ears. Her slender shoulders rose and fell as the tears began to stream. His cloak held the stains of many bodily fluids, all acquired by the savagery of his own hand, yet these new salty droplets horrified him. An odd thought flittered through his corrupted mind: how many tears had she shed on his behalf?

He departed the Building once before, offering her nothing by means of goodbye but a framed photograph of his actual face. She had never commented upon the gift. It was possible she had glanced at it and, repulsed, tossed it into a drawer or other gloomy place. Yet now he wasn’t so sure. His mind’s eye sculpted a scene before he could change his thoughts: the little god, always so upbeat, crumpled on the floor and weeping over the loss of a friend. That’s what he was to her, undoubtedly. Though he didn’t consider her anything more than an embarrassment (for all Chaos beings had a reputation to uphold), she saw him as somebody worthy of her-

“Enough, Naomi. We can’t go home,” his gloved fingers slipped between the strands of her hair to caress her scalp. Poor creature. She was as cut off from her pantheon as surely as he was from his own. “We’re trapped here. This is a gods forsaken hell hole.” He spoke as though addressing a small child caught up in a nightmare. For both of them, Gallimaufry was such.

Another thought bit at his consciousness: What if they were to run away? Take a Gate and flee? They could seek their own fortunes once more, returning to the service of their pantheons.

Aegis stepped back and gently extracted her small hands from his cloak. Her heart-shaped face lifted, her bottom lip quivering at the thought of his rejection. He sighed. Running away wasn’t the answer of course. It would mean doing the one thing he dreaded – allowing another individual to become close to him. Naomi and her love held the power necessary to banish degeneracy from his mind, to restore him, to heal his heart. Nonsense! He was in no need of healing. There was nothing amiss in his Luxan ways or habits. Yet this woman saw past his perversions and propensity for violence. The sum of his existence was easily calculated upon her pale fingers and, having tallied it in full, she did not reject him nor wish ill upon him.

She blinked away the last of her tears. His resolve wavered and, for the first time in his existence, he considered the joy to be had at a release that was not quite death itself. He suspected that her fingers would caress rather than clutch, and-

“Thank you for the scarf,” he looped the object around his neck and cast a tail over his shoulder. “You should go home and rest.” There. Finality. The temptation was put to bed. He snuffed the flames of love as easily as he had the candle in the hall.

Or so he wanted desperately to believe. Yet his heart felt otherwise as he watched her draw her shawl more tightly about her shoulders. She took to her tiptoes to plant a tender kiss upon the cold mask, “I’m glad you like the scarf. There’s spider silk in there.” Without another word, she departed from him.

Befuddled, his heart demanded he follow her back to the Building, and only his training kept him rooted to the spot as she vanished over the moor.

Aegis removed his glove to caress the material warming his neck. Fingers, so accustomed to detecting magic, felt the bitter traces of agony interlaced with the wool. It wasn’t cobwebs. The god had tortured the silk out of the spiders. He made no effort to suppress the delicious shudder.

Moonlight glinted off his mask as he strode towards the Building. The village was forgotten, as was his resolve to remain mired in his own torments. He passed a familiar form in the lobby. The lip once again curled into a sneer. Bones. Yet he was too late and, in his absence - well, to the victor goes the spoils.

- To be continued, maybe.

LMAO. That's really cute, though. :clap:
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Giovenith
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Postby Giovenith » Thu Sep 15, 2016 8:57 pm

My favorite thing about Naomi is her demented taste in men despite being so outwardly sweet and innocent. :p


And welcome back, Bones.
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reading after page one of search results but there's two more"
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Germanic Templars
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Capitalist Paradise

Postby Germanic Templars » Thu Sep 15, 2016 9:03 pm

Bone Fort wrote:So guess what terrible mistake Cer and Swith made today?

They invited me back.


Nah, that ain't bad really. Good for them really.

Also last few weeks trying to write a "farewell" post in docs has been a bitch.

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Bone Fort
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Left-wing Utopia

Postby Bone Fort » Thu Sep 15, 2016 9:07 pm

Giovenith wrote:My favorite thing about Naomi is her demented taste in men despite being so outwardly sweet and innocent. :p


And welcome back, Bones.


Welcome back? I never left. You all just didn't notice me for awhile.

Totenkopf, aka "Bones but even more sociopathic" (alien sense of morality, pretty much incapable of empathizing with others, openly abusive), was once in the running for Naomi's hand. Somehow.

It's actually kinda disturbing in hindsight.
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Swith Witherward
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Democratic Socialists

Postby Swith Witherward » Thu Sep 15, 2016 9:10 pm

Giovenith wrote:My favorite thing about Naomi is her demented taste in men despite being so outwardly sweet and innocent. :p


And welcome back, Bones.

Yeah, she's pretty warped. Cer captured it. :P Crushed on Totenkopf, was rejected. Crushed on Thad, was dumped in place of his work. Crushed on Aegis, rejected. Was kind to Yellow King, got ignored.

"Why do evil, insane, or warped things reject me? I just want to love them."
Last edited by Swith Witherward on Thu Sep 15, 2016 9:10 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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Germanic Templars
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Capitalist Paradise

Postby Germanic Templars » Thu Sep 15, 2016 9:11 pm

Swith Witherward wrote:
Giovenith wrote:My favorite thing about Naomi is her demented taste in men despite being so outwardly sweet and innocent. :p


And welcome back, Bones.

Yeah, she's pretty warped. Cer captured it. :P Crushed on Totenkopf, was rejected. Crushed on Thad, was dumped in place of his work. Crushed on Aegis, rejected. Was kind to Yellow King, got ignored.

"Why do evil, insane, or warped things reject me? I just want to love them."


Dont forget Thriller trying to play matchmaker with Aleki and her.. tried.

  • INTP
  • All American Patriotic Constitutionalist/Classic libertarian (with fiscal conservatism)
  • Religiously Tolerant
  • Roman Catholic
  • Hoplophilic/ammosexual
  • X=3.13, Y=2.41
  • Supports the Blue


I support Capitalism do you? If so, put this in your sig.

XY = Male, XX = Female

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Giovenith
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Left-wing Utopia

Postby Giovenith » Thu Sep 15, 2016 9:13 pm

Germanic Templars wrote:
Swith Witherward wrote:Yeah, she's pretty warped. Cer captured it. :P Crushed on Totenkopf, was rejected. Crushed on Thad, was dumped in place of his work. Crushed on Aegis, rejected. Was kind to Yellow King, got ignored.

"Why do evil, insane, or warped things reject me? I just want to love them."


Dont forget Thriller trying to play matchmaker with Aleki and her.. tried.


Oh Thriller, such a lovable control freak he was.
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"Gio has said "fuck you" a few times prior in this chat.
At her phone, at a friend over the letter x, at poe's law,
at me once, at NA once, at pokemon a lot, at people
who do not like polishing rocks, at god, and I stopped
reading after page one of search results but there's two more"
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Bone Fort
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Left-wing Utopia

Postby Bone Fort » Thu Sep 15, 2016 9:17 pm

Swith Witherward wrote:Yeah, she's pretty warped. Cer captured it. :P Crushed on Totenkopf, was rejected. Crushed on Thad, was dumped in place of his work. Crushed on Aegis, rejected. Was kind to Yellow King, got ignored.

"Why do evil, insane, or warped things reject me? I just want to love them."


Rejected by Totenkopf? Not really. Just nothing really came of it for whatever reason.
Me summed up in one sentence.

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Germanic Templars
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Capitalist Paradise

Postby Germanic Templars » Thu Sep 15, 2016 9:20 pm

Giovenith wrote:
Germanic Templars wrote:
Dont forget Thriller trying to play matchmaker with Aleki and her.. tried.


Oh Thriller, such a lovable control freak he was.


Oh where did it all go wrong? right?

  • INTP
  • All American Patriotic Constitutionalist/Classic libertarian (with fiscal conservatism)
  • Religiously Tolerant
  • Roman Catholic
  • Hoplophilic/ammosexual
  • X=3.13, Y=2.41
  • Supports the Blue


I support Capitalism do you? If so, put this in your sig.

XY = Male, XX = Female

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Giovenith
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Left-wing Utopia

Postby Giovenith » Thu Sep 15, 2016 9:27 pm

I kind of wanted to write for NVE's characters, though I think I'll ask and try after finishing up the Groundtown reply and the next part of Willow/Duster flashbacks. I bit off soooooooooo much more than I can chew, BUT GODDAMMIT, I WILL PREVAIL AND BE LEGEND!
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"Gio has said "fuck you" a few times prior in this chat.
At her phone, at a friend over the letter x, at poe's law,
at me once, at NA once, at pokemon a lot, at people
who do not like polishing rocks, at god, and I stopped
reading after page one of search results but there's two more"
—Ever-Wandering Souls

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Holy Lykos
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Corrupt Dictatorship

Postby Holy Lykos » Thu Sep 15, 2016 9:30 pm

Might be fun writing for someone else's character, don't know which though.
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Chedastan
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Corrupt Dictatorship

Postby Chedastan » Thu Sep 15, 2016 9:35 pm

Holy Lykos wrote:Might be fun writing for someone else's character, don't know which though.

I mean I would give Romy to just anyone really, I would like to see what people would do with him.

Now for writing with someone's character, I'm stumped too. :P
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Swith Witherward
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Democratic Socialists

Postby Swith Witherward » Thu Sep 15, 2016 9:38 pm

Chedastan wrote:
Holy Lykos wrote:Might be fun writing for someone else's character, don't know which though.

I mean I would give Romy to just anyone really, I would like to see what people would do with him.

Now for writing with someone's character, I'm stumped too. :P

I'll take you up on that! You won't see it until the weekend, though. :p
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Why is everyone a social justice warrior?
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- sauce

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Swith Witherward
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Posts: 30302
Founded: Feb 11, 2012
Democratic Socialists

Postby Swith Witherward » Thu Sep 15, 2016 9:39 pm

Bone Fort wrote:
Swith Witherward wrote:Yeah, she's pretty warped. Cer captured it. :P Crushed on Totenkopf, was rejected. Crushed on Thad, was dumped in place of his work. Crushed on Aegis, rejected. Was kind to Yellow King, got ignored.

"Why do evil, insane, or warped things reject me? I just want to love them."


Rejected by Totenkopf? Not really. Just nothing really came of it for whatever reason.

His handler got shy and ran away. Yeah, that's it. *nods*

Also...

*pounces the clone and the original, and all the things in-between*

And we're in #NSP.
Last edited by Swith Witherward on Thu Sep 15, 2016 9:39 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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How may I help you today?
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Role Play
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Why is everyone a social justice warrior?
Why didn't any of you choose a different class,
like social justice mage or social justice thief?
Anti-intellectual elitism: the dismissal of science, the arts, and humanities and their replacement by entertainment, self-righteousness, ignorance, and deliberate gullibility.
- sauce

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Tiltjuice
Post Czar
 
Posts: 33937
Founded: Jan 20, 2012
Inoffensive Centrist Democracy

Postby Tiltjuice » Thu Sep 15, 2016 9:41 pm

Holy Lykos wrote:Might be fun writing for someone else's character, don't know which though.


Trade you.
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Holy Lykos
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Corrupt Dictatorship

Postby Holy Lykos » Thu Sep 15, 2016 9:41 pm

Chedastan wrote:
Holy Lykos wrote:Might be fun writing for someone else's character, don't know which though.

I mean I would give Romy to just anyone really, I would like to see what people would do with him.

Now for writing with someone's character, I'm stumped too. :P

Same with any of my characters, especially the free ones. Hey if they can do it well it might as well be a canon thing :p
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I wear teal, blue, pink for Swith

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