Fractured Road

[dakkon]

(I was planning on trying my luck at taking the Lancelot role for camelot but I wasn't sure how I wanted to play him. I tend to like using realism in my characters and I have never really considered Lancelot realistic. He violated the bro code so he should be more than a little sick but still needs to be considered a great knight. So I figured I could do a short series of posts, each with different styles of Lancelot in mind. See what people think and see which ones I like best. )
(If you want to join in and rp with the mercurial character of Lancelot please do ^-^)

[dakkon]

"Nay Huric, I would prefer to keep my own company for this. I seldom have the chance to visit the towns about Camelot and it is of great value to know by sight the effect of all our oaths and squabbles on these people. Besides, I am not so well known without my armor or my white charger to cause a stir, unlike you my friend. Every purveyor of mead from here to the Lake must know your face."Huric's booming laugh was enough to bring a smile to Lancelot's weary countenance.

"Or could it be the holy knight doesn't want his name associated with a common blacksmith like me?" Huric's voice was raspy, as it had been since the day in his youth when his master made him breath in hot embers, penance for some small mistake.

"You should know me better than that. When others were learning shame I was probably learning how to fight demons barehanded"

Lancelot was unable to conceal some of his own bitterness with his upbringing. Huric, no stranger to rough upbringings either, was quick to reply in typical fashion "Oh, did the pixies that raised widdle wancaleot pick on youw," Huric made a sad looking imitation of a bloated child's face that was on the verge of tears.

"They weren't pix...," Lancelot sighed, too tired to argue that bit of historical inaccuracy again."At any pace we have come to the crossroads." Eying the paths ahead as well Huric sobered and nodded toward the path into town. "Go if you must then, and see you don't get recognized. Wouldn't do for a knights image to get smudged by walking around with the common folk"

"I've never had a problem being the consummate knight Huric. Its just the human part thats hollow, except when I'm with ..." Huric's quirked eyebrow told Lancelot he was saying too much. Waving a casual goodbye to his old friend Lancelot strode on down toward the village in silence. When he was out of sight he paused to catch his breath, the reawakened ache in his heart the shame he felt for what he had done.

[dakkon]

(since i already chose a lance persona I figured why not try out one of a few backstories I'm kicking around for another current character. its a very fractured path : )
"I used it Mary. I was finally able to" As she stepped back into the cramped bedroom Mary heard her husband nearly yell the words to the otherwise silent room. Something was off, she had known her husband for five years and his voice had never sounded so wild. His entire body was convulsing in his chair, almost as if he were freezing despite the mild afternoon heat filling the room.

"Dearest, what do you mean, you know you don't have..." Mary trailed off as she moved close enough to see over her husband's shoulders. On the bed in front of him was their patient, the Vicar, the look on his face one of a surreal calm. With horror Mary realized the reason, the Vicar wasn't breathing. She pushed past her husband, knocking over the vase of flowers by the bed side, as she desperately began applying a resuscitation technique.

"You should have seen it Mare'. The pain on his face disappeared, it was just like when we watched the others use the gift." She pressed her ear to his chest. No heartbeat and his face was so pale. She dug her fingers into the Vicar's lips and pried them apart to see if there was an obstruction. Immediately she recoiled as a torrent of blood poured out of his mouth onto the clean white sheets. The Vicar had bit off his own tongue.

"I never thought taking away someone's pain... could feel so" Mary turned her head, reaching out at last to steady her entranced husband. He had always been thin and frail but looking at him now he seemed a man transformed.Then her eyes met his ",so amazing."

The next moment was a blur, as though she were falling into another room. This room was like the old one, her husband was still there, he was so kind looking. But the walls ... they were the faces of every patient she ever lost, their milky white eyes the eyes of all the loved ones she had failed to save. The voice, maddeningly loud, was hers. She was shouting, cursing at herself for her every weakness until even minor flaws were fissures running down her mind.

Her eyes darted around, there was a shard of glass from the broken vase on the floor. It was right by her hand, in her hand. Then, mercifully, it was arcing up to meet her bared throat."No... Mary, no!" Yelling in the distance ... was that her husband? It didn't matter, it was almost over. Something grabbed her hand, stopping her. Was it him, why would he stop her? "I didn't mean for this, please, stop Mary"

"You can't understand, please let me...let me go love" She cried aloud, the grief she was causing him bringing renewed pain. She could feel his grip weakening. Now she could feel the shard, it was just touching her skin, causing it to pucker. It wouldn't be long. Then, all at once the screaming voice in her head died away and she felt, for the first time she could remember, at peace.

"Rest my love" He turned away from the sight of his wife lying dead, still clutching a shard of bloodless glass. He couldn't bare to look at the other piece of glass sticking out of her neck so unnaturally, his fingers having left an unnatural pattern of bloody ridges on its hilt.

He stumbled out onto the street, straining against the the ecstasy of giving into it again. His gift. No one else he passed seemed to react to him, but each face he didn't look into felt like it sapped his strength. Visions of using the power again filled his mind. Men, women, children. The looks on their faces as they gave into death filled him to overflowing until...

He was walking down the same town road but it was different now. The road was curving, and her voice was whispering to him sweetly. Enthralled he let his feet trample down the concourse, slick with the blood of the dead Vicar. "My love..." He collapsed onto the bloody road, the blood splashing outward as the street seemed to wrap around him.

"What was that mister?"Kinde awoke to find a child along with his mother staring down at the strange sight of a man on his knees in the street. He smiled until his lips felt like they were split then, slowly,looked up into their eyes.

[Talisen Phoenix]

The First post is pretty cool, Lancelot is a weird character to play because of all the contradictions, which is one of the reasons he’s such a cool character too, he gentle and caring and also vicious in battle, he possesses a natural talent Arthur just doesn’t have, Arthur has to work to be a good night and needs magic, but Lancelot is just awesome.

Also good to note, the way we’ve been playing him is he’s technically Arthurs first cousin as well as he’s bff, his mother is the lady of the lake, Viviane’s son, who is Igraine's older sister, who happens to be Arthurs mother. So yeah,

Pretty cool!

[dakkon]

Ouch cheating with your cousin's wife is an even worse violation of the man code. Thanks for the heads up, these Arthurian family trees always confuse me. I think they had one in the back of 'the once and future king' that spanned two or three pages, made me dizzy.

Although I agree with you, I'm trying to keep Lancelot's focus away from the 'innately better than others' angle. Strictly playing him like that would make it hard for me to give his character believability. '[He is a champion because he knows how to be a champion and how to become a champion again]' (to poorly quote Hayward Nishioka). If you put his mind into nearly anyone else's body then, knowing what he does, he could make that person into a champion as well. I'm trying for a Lancelot that you feel, given the right kind of training and experience, you could beat in a fight- just never twice in a row.

We'll see how well it goes though , I definitely have some tough acts to follow. Its fun playing a goody goody like him and a definite baddie like kinde at the same time though.

[Moridanu]

Jan 8, 2009 12:35:39 GMT -5 dakkon said:

Its fun playing a goody goody like him and a definite baddie like kinde at the same time though.

I'm glad you are having fun babes! ;D

And its great to see a bit of the back story of Kinde starting to unfold. I'm interested to see what happens next.

[dakkon]

(guess Im just getting genres out of my system. but i think im about at the end of my favorite ones )

"There is no Great Burrow in the sky. Your entire belief system is a lie rabbit"

Peterson stirred, his alarm clock buzzing irritably from somewhere on the night stand. He fumbled by his bed for the snooze, his fingers pushing through a bramble of half empty soda cans and overturned noodle cups before finding its promise of 15 more minutes sleep.

"Now see here Mr Giraffe; I don't know who died and made you mr know-it-all fascist dictator but what I believe isn't any of your business"

"I think it'll become my business if you let one more deadbeat off the hook because he looks sorry for what he did you furry eared idiot"

The alarm was going off again. He considered moving the alarm an hour forward before he finally relented and flicked it off. With a reluctant effort he leveraged himself off the cot and onto his apartment's squeaky floorboards. Without taking the time to choose he picked up a pair of pants from the pile on the floor, and headed to the hall showers.

He had already gotten his boss in trouble twice last week for looking the other way on employee's tardiness and, even if his boss was a micromanaging jerk, Peterson preferred not to dissapoint more than three time every two weeks. From experience he knew drawing lines made things go smoother. Another such line he drew was at namecalling.

"Oh furry eared idiot, real original Giraffe. Lay off the little guy and get back to finishing that day trading optimization algorithm. That is unless you want to live in this dump for a few more months and have the .mil knocking on our door"

That shushed the two arguing voices long enough for him to shower and get out the door on the way to work.

"Transit's delayed chief." At last one of his more useful voices came up online, its pre-wakeup data queries complete. "Some big crash out under Westend." Westend, as in the dataplex that ran the rail and shuttle systems. Ever since they laid off half their workforce they had been having trouble with hackers. Served em right, he had been one of the guys they fired "Might want to try hoofing it through the park."

"Thanks Eagle, keep me posted if things get better and I can hop on at the center square stop."

The early morning joggers and other displaced commuters he passed didn't even give Peterson a second glance as he strolled by them. No reason why they should notice him though in his standard issue black suit and wool coat. Plus, he had plenty of reasons why he didn't want to be noticed. The only element of his appearance that might have stood out as evidence of some quirky sense of inner humor were the dancing elephants that formed the pattern on his tie. He couldn't help that though. As a Plural, one of the relic weapons from the last Great War, he knew how to reward the voices inside his head. And Elephant, after getting him out of that tangle with the electro dragon gang last week, had easily earned voice of the month.

“By the way, everyone be sure to say thanks to Elephant again today when you see her” A thousand voices, in a booming cacophony spoken from a thousand unnaturally rendered animals, answered that they would.

[dakkon]

(Character I was considering for zombie plot)

‘Eh what do you people want?’ He eyed the survivors huddled on the other side of the gate. They were pathetic, at least he had managed to stay respectable in his pressed navy blue guard uniform. These people looked like they had just crawled out of a sewer. He'd have said they smelled like that too but he could only smell burning ozone. That was probably the roids messing with him, or the blood poisoning. Small price to pay either way

'Look man let us in!' Their leader must have been a big ceo or something before the world ended. With all the emergency lighting set up on the survivors side of the gate he could even make out the armani label hanging off the leaders jacket.

'Cmon, they're right behind us!'

'Shouldn't have mentioned that part, I mighta let you in'

Most of their faces were already turned back towards the approaching tide of death, even as their legs froze in place. Only the leader had the sense to start clawing at the gate, trying to break the inch thick chains between him and safety.

Without giving the leader a chance to plead his hopeless case further he ducked back behind the barricade. His side of the hallways was pitchdark, not a single light left to give away the survivor hiding there. The survivors weren't so lucky. A half minute later and he heard the first scream. It was interrupted by screams of the remainder as rotten tooth and finger dug through skin. He could picture the survivors clearly, each giving in to the end in their own way. Some would be accepting death numbly, others would try to fight them off. There were three kinds of survivors in his book - fighters, cowards, and...

It was quiet again. He lost track of time easily these days so it might have been only minutes since he had heard the deadman shuffle off or it might have been hours. Standing up with care he was surprised to find there was one left. Its gnarled fingers were clawing at the gate, warm blood running freely from empty sockets still turned towards the darkened corridor.*


'Well, like any good leader, you're the last one standing. Names Malay Dobs, it was nice to meetcha' Technically his name was "Male DOB," the first two words his idiot parents had read off the birth chart and mistaken for his given name. Normally that memory would have made him angry, but even with the roids he had find a sort of tranquility amid apocalypse.


Malay unclipped the brass knuckles from his belt and slipped them over his fingers. They could barely fit over his swollen knuckles.

'But I'm afraid this ain't a world for leaders to stand on no more chief. Only room for us survivors, the kind that's still kickin'

Malay aimed his punch and corkscrewed it into the dead leaders face, the chain link fence shaking wildly as the dead body bounced back lifeless to the ground.

The gate, id 18g, was secure for the moment. He jotted down the gate number and time checked in his notepad. Clicking on his flashlight he retreated into the hallway and toward the next gate on his list, 18H. He had another two dozen perimeter points to check before he could chance an hour or two of sleep.

[dakkon]

(not a rp but i might post with this char in mind to see if I like it. I don't usually do the werewolf vampire thing so i prob wont submit it to anima)

Full Name: Wubaiyi Yung Sanbyaku (CKJ Strain ID: 501 0 300)
Race: Thrull Human (homosapiens domesticus)
Age: 26
Height: 6'2"
Weight: 170
Homeland: Taiwan
Current Home: Washington, D.C.
Occupation: Lobbyist Assistant

Weapon & Armor Proficiencies: None
-Too frail to use most weapons or engage in hand to hand combat.

Magic: None

Racial Traits: Extreme Endurance, Resistance to Blood Diseases(vampirism, lycanthropy included), Susceptible to short term Mental Domination, Immune to long term Mental Domination, Other Domesticated Traits

Character History:
His line stretches back for centuries, to a time when a vampire sect in mainland China was attempting to create a race of ideal prey. Traits they selected for were fast developmental progress, blood quality, resistance to disease, and chronic weakness to prevent any potential insurrection. After a millenia of this artificial selection several differently purposed breeds were being raised separately in colonies throughout China, Korea and Japan. Wubaiyi was the product of an attempted cross breeding between a Chinese stock known for its hardy traits and a Japanese breed known for its virility and even temperament. The cross breeding failed in that, despite its producing a loyal domesticated human with uncanny endurance, the result was also sterile and its blood just a little too far on the acidic side to be palatable. As per usual protocols the experiment was culled and dumped off the coast of Taiwan. A week later a frail looking Sino-Japanese youth washed up on the shores of Taiwan, barely alive after days of exposure and showing signs of asphyxiation.

A decade later Wu finds himself having moved up in the world. Ostensibly he works for an American lobbying firm that advocates animal rights and the lowering of trade barriers. However, the firm is little more than a front for a secretive group of powerful immortals. Through the firms political connections the immortals exercise considerable influence on policies that impact their kind throughout North and South America. Wubaiyi is aware of who he works for although it is unclear if his bosses are aware of his origins. Regardless they trust him with their secrets and are pleased with his work, little surprise given that he is the pinnacle of a race whose entire purpose is to serve immortals.

Standard Equipment:
Smartphone, wireless headset.

[dakkon]

(warming up for a necro city char. ill modify this page over the next couple days as i flesh out the concept)


"
hench: you say you're better than him huh? Then answer the question he couldn't, the one about the dead guy and the river.

char: The Couple and the Lake you mean. Its an interesting story though its been distorted over the years. Allow me to refresh you on the tale before I give you your answer...

Many ages ago, a man and a women were caught in the undertow of a Lake. The man, being a weaker swimmer, died first and his spirit wakened to see the women still struggling to stay above water. Knowing that he would destroy his soul in the process the man broke the barrier between life and death to carry the woman to shore. Then, setting her down with ghostly arms, his spirit unraveled out onto the four winds. The women was left alone.

...

hench: How do you know that? How can you possibly know that's the reason why he did what he did?

char: Its something the dead just understand more clearly than the living. Maybe when you have less life in you, you'll understand it too.













---
dealer: eh, h'many skulls you buying

char: how much can i take at once...

dealer: never seen a grown man drop more than five in a row without joining the ancestors

char:ill take four
"

"
hench: what was the big man like?

char: I might not be the best one to ask, Kinth was his favorite. To me he was kinda just a person, not someone I wanted to know. a stranger who would occasionally stop by to say high to mom, or give Kinth a souvenir from his trips.
"

"
hench: why would you want to help the city? thought you hated the founder?

char: one of them, yes. But back then we didn't think of their being any one Founder, everyone contributed something. Entire families would stay up into the night just writing down ideas for what they wanted for their new city.

char: Me and Kinth actually were the ones who came up with the butterfly lights. You don't seem them lit up much these nights... That really is a shame."