Post by Aeronaux on Jul 2, 2018 12:07:23 GMT -8
Jack Rivers
Resolve level: 0
-Appearance
Age: 33
Sex: Male
Physical Description: Stalking the streets from within the shadows lurks a horrible, gluttonous creature. The tatters of his cloak blend with the ever shifting shadows that cling to him like hoards of childish hands. A gloom hovers around him as he peruses the streets with silent feet. To those that see him, they shy away; his skin a dark ashen gray that looked as if it was stained with tar and teeth as jagged and sharp like serrated blades. Wrapped around his upper face are strips of cloth to cover the voids that lay underneath. The very same strips tightly bind his arms, but exposes only his fingertips and feet.
Tap Tap Tap
That’s the sound of his quarterstaff sweeping the ground in front of him for his own ironic amusement. His ears are attuned to hearing the near inaudible thrums he makes with his throat and his bare feet and fingertips pays close attention to the vibrations beneath him. If all his senses fails, the shadows will be there to guide him, and his fists, to where it needs to go.
Jack is never one to talk, but on the rare occasions it's nothing kind or polite. His words are rude, cold, offending, and his mind saturated with ill intent and hunger - a painful, insatiable hunger.
Attire: Clinging onto him in tatters is a drab, slate-blue hooded cloak that falls past his knees. Beneath is a tan, warm shirt lined with animal furs to ward off the cold nights while loose fitting trousers hang from his hips. Wrapped around them is a rope belt lined with pouches containing powders of all sorts. A layer of bandages wrap around Jack's arms and legs in a rather intricate pattern; the only bits exposed are his fingertips and his feet. The bandages around his head are simpler, but secure nonetheless.
-Biography
Quirks:
+Evasive: "Don't bother. He'll simply step out of the way..."
+Night Owl: "His skin matches the night."
+Unyielding: "Is that all you fucking got?"
+Lurker: “The light makes him nauseous.”
-Sitiomania: "He'll eat you out of house, home, and soul"
-Unquiet Mind: “I can only imagine the horrors that lurks within.”
-Deviant Tastes: “God forbid…”
-Stress Eater: “SHUT UP, THROW FOOD, RUN.”
Synopsis:
Not a day goes by not thinking of food or the trauma he endured. It was supposed to be a simple burglary: get in, take food, and get out. Never did he expect to witness an incomprehensible horror that would forever change his livelihood. He ran. Gods did he try to escape, but the tentacles that shot out from the abyss dragged him in and refused to let go. Three months was all it took to shatter everything that he’s ever known; his gluttonous appetite enslaving him until the final ritual invoked a being that empathized with him. It was an unwanted gift… a perverted power that still plagues his mind like it did to his pale skin. Rugged it was, now maimed and stained with black like ink does with paper. No longer could light reach his eyes. After all, he has them no longer.
The only light he can perceive is the lighthouse his tattered psyche rests against and the song that wafts in the air – Maxwell, his baby brother, now his foundation to keep him from wandering towards the eldritch infested sea that engulfed his mind. They’ve since fled their home after Jack found his way back to Maxwell. The two brothers has never returned since. Instead they’ve traveled to the Darkest Estate hoping to find the answer to what plagues Jack’s terrible mind.
Full:
Misc. Notes:
- Scars: Beneath all his clothes is little skin, rather, a horrid mural of scar tissue. From mismatched tones to a cascade of bubbling flesh, he's got it all from the neck down.
- Callous: His hands and feet are caked with it.
- Scents: Smells like coal and pine.
- Talk: Sounds like a cheese grater grinding a gravel road.
- Echolocation: Has been blind for a great deal of time. His eyes are now his ears.
-Skills & Equipment
Weapons:
- Fists: It's like being hit by a brick!
- Feet: Loves to stomp on things that crunch. Bone shattering.
- Teeth: Sharp, jagged, and terrible. Tears flesh like paper and bones to dust.
- Quarterstaff: Scuffed and scratched all over. Made of steel.
Armor:
None but his scarred flesh
Other gear:
- Shovel: The ground is always home.
- Flour: A versatile tool not only in cooking, but for traps involving fire!
- Matches: Its light is useless to him now, however its warmth is undeniable.
- Alchemical Substances: He may not be able to comprehend eldritch horrors, but he did learn something about the chemicals they pumped him with.
- Cooking utensils: Throw it all in a big pot and pray it turns out good.
- Bandages: To cover his eyes, arms, and legs.
Strengths:
- Ambush Predator: Jack is a sneaky bastard who prefers the art of ambush assaults. He moves like the wind with an unsettling grace and silence that before you know it he's already in front of your face with a fist pulled back.
- Crafty: His intelligence and wit is makes up for his lack of social skills. Anything can be a weapon and Jack for sure will use anything he grabs as such.
- Blind Chef: He’s only going off by scent, taste, and feeling alone. It may be an… odd color. Most of the times it will be, but know that whatever he makes will taste better than what it was if you can get past how unappetizing it looks.
Weaknesses:
- Bottomless hunger: Even when Jack stuffs his face full of food he still feels the insufferable clawing of his gluttony demanding more.
- Socially Inept: Although he is smart, his is socially incapable of holding a conversation without getting bored after the first minute or sliding in a crude, offensive, joke.
- Bestial: He’s a slave to his body’s wants and needs. Most of the time it leads to trouble.
Resolve level: 0
-Appearance
Age: 33
Sex: Male
Physical Description: Stalking the streets from within the shadows lurks a horrible, gluttonous creature. The tatters of his cloak blend with the ever shifting shadows that cling to him like hoards of childish hands. A gloom hovers around him as he peruses the streets with silent feet. To those that see him, they shy away; his skin a dark ashen gray that looked as if it was stained with tar and teeth as jagged and sharp like serrated blades. Wrapped around his upper face are strips of cloth to cover the voids that lay underneath. The very same strips tightly bind his arms, but exposes only his fingertips and feet.
Tap Tap Tap
That’s the sound of his quarterstaff sweeping the ground in front of him for his own ironic amusement. His ears are attuned to hearing the near inaudible thrums he makes with his throat and his bare feet and fingertips pays close attention to the vibrations beneath him. If all his senses fails, the shadows will be there to guide him, and his fists, to where it needs to go.
Jack is never one to talk, but on the rare occasions it's nothing kind or polite. His words are rude, cold, offending, and his mind saturated with ill intent and hunger - a painful, insatiable hunger.
Attire: Clinging onto him in tatters is a drab, slate-blue hooded cloak that falls past his knees. Beneath is a tan, warm shirt lined with animal furs to ward off the cold nights while loose fitting trousers hang from his hips. Wrapped around them is a rope belt lined with pouches containing powders of all sorts. A layer of bandages wrap around Jack's arms and legs in a rather intricate pattern; the only bits exposed are his fingertips and his feet. The bandages around his head are simpler, but secure nonetheless.
-Biography
Quirks:
+Evasive: "Don't bother. He'll simply step out of the way..."
+Night Owl: "His skin matches the night."
+Unyielding: "Is that all you fucking got?"
+Lurker: “The light makes him nauseous.”
-Sitiomania: "He'll eat you out of house, home, and soul"
-Unquiet Mind: “I can only imagine the horrors that lurks within.”
-Deviant Tastes: “God forbid…”
-Stress Eater: “SHUT UP, THROW FOOD, RUN.”
Synopsis:
Not a day goes by not thinking of food or the trauma he endured. It was supposed to be a simple burglary: get in, take food, and get out. Never did he expect to witness an incomprehensible horror that would forever change his livelihood. He ran. Gods did he try to escape, but the tentacles that shot out from the abyss dragged him in and refused to let go. Three months was all it took to shatter everything that he’s ever known; his gluttonous appetite enslaving him until the final ritual invoked a being that empathized with him. It was an unwanted gift… a perverted power that still plagues his mind like it did to his pale skin. Rugged it was, now maimed and stained with black like ink does with paper. No longer could light reach his eyes. After all, he has them no longer.
The only light he can perceive is the lighthouse his tattered psyche rests against and the song that wafts in the air – Maxwell, his baby brother, now his foundation to keep him from wandering towards the eldritch infested sea that engulfed his mind. They’ve since fled their home after Jack found his way back to Maxwell. The two brothers has never returned since. Instead they’ve traveled to the Darkest Estate hoping to find the answer to what plagues Jack’s terrible mind.
Full:
He was a bastard child. Him and his half-brother born inside a hole in the ground while his mother worked the streets. By day she was tired and weary, but still she finds the energy to raise them up properly and put food on the table. She was such a kind soul. A gentle spirit with a level head on her shoulders, but that didn’t matter in this world. It didn’t matter if you were born kind and loving. It didn’t matter if you were smart or wise. Once poverty has a grip on you, the only way out is gold, and if gold can’t help you then thievery does just well.
Jack did what he could to support his mother, his baby brother Maxwell, and his insatiable appetite. He taught Maxwell how to distract merchants while he stole goods right from under their noses. He did all he could, but nothing could stop their mother’s fleeting life from all the ailments she received from her… suitors… All the herbs and medicine in the world couldn’t save her. Quickly she withered away. The only mark she left on this world were her two boys aged ten and seven.
Life was tough growing up since their mother died, but at the very least she gifted Jack all her knowledge, wisdom, and cooking skills. There were too many nights where the both of them went without food, and most of everything they could scrounge or steal would go to Maxwell. It was a slog, worse when in mourning, but time healed them enough to get their bearings straight. They were young, but they were not fools – foolishness was too expensive and they’ve barely a copper to their names! However, life sometimes sends even the weary its good graces. For them it was in the form of an airheaded musician who owned an accordion, the instrument of Maxwell’s dreams, and couldn’t hold his liqueur.
Things began to look brighter from there; Maxwell quickly honed his musical craft while Jack perfected the art of making paltry scraps and bits taste good. The two began making more and more coin – enough to lessen Jack’s thievery! Still he preferred to live in their underground abode. It was all they knew and they wouldn’t want it any other way aside from digging around to make it bigger. They’ve become financial stable as Maxwell grew in popularity while Jack manned the kitchens.
All good things had to come to an end, unfortunately. It was a major food run gone wrong. It was a simple enough task. Break in, steal good, get out. No amount of money they make could satiate the pit in his stomach without throwing them back into poverty. He couldn’t do that to his baby brother after all the efforts he put in! So off he went to fill his bag with edibles.
Nothing could have prepared him for the horrors he witnessed. It was an ordinary house recently purchased by a merchant who dealt in food goods. It was to be a gold mine! Jack had expected barrels full of food in the basement from grains and fruits. If he was lucky maybe some cured meat! Instead he became witness to what the merchant used his profits for. His feet moved like the wind in his attempt to escape the house, but the tentacles were much, much faster. One snagged his leg, another his waist, and before he could scream he was dragged into the darkness of the basement…
Three months… It was three months of hell saturated with torture and rituals. The unintelligible jargon that stained his mind. Lashings and vivisections, being sewn and resewn, kept alive by a sick concoction of chemicals and solutions, incense and herbs. The only light he knew for those three months, those three grueling months, were the tiny flickering flames of candlelight lit to perform their dark arts. Their final ritual unmade them. Failure after failure did his tormentors finally invoke success, and with it their regrets. Jack could not comprehend what all he saw, what all he felt. Hunger clawed at his mind, his skin blackening with a searing pain as if acid was injected into his veins. The stress, the insanity, its name – its name! They’ve invoked its name! A monster of gluttony, its lair of tar, ooze, and gloom. Darkness is its abode. His teeth was useless – another pair! Another pair! Sharper and sharper to grind bones to dust and meat to ribbons! Eat! Eat! He needed to eat! The eyes are useless – it reveals only lies! Out they go! Out they crawl! Out they fall! EAT!!!
Not a soul was spared that night. No longer could he see, but he could feel the massacre around him; smell it, revel in it. His mind was lost in a sea of misery, yet over yonder was a light that spun around frenzied, searching for him and failing… Despite the odds Jack found his way back to his hole in the ground where his brother lay in wait, grieving, believing he was dead.
The next day the brothers fled their home. They ran as far as they could knowing they could never return to their home… its presence now tainted. What all they’ve done to him, the reasons behind it all will be something that Jack will never know. However… it never left his mind, forever remaining in the depths of his relentless hunger. Perhaps this mansion… this estate that he had heard so much about will be the answer to the sickness that ails him.
Jack did what he could to support his mother, his baby brother Maxwell, and his insatiable appetite. He taught Maxwell how to distract merchants while he stole goods right from under their noses. He did all he could, but nothing could stop their mother’s fleeting life from all the ailments she received from her… suitors… All the herbs and medicine in the world couldn’t save her. Quickly she withered away. The only mark she left on this world were her two boys aged ten and seven.
Life was tough growing up since their mother died, but at the very least she gifted Jack all her knowledge, wisdom, and cooking skills. There were too many nights where the both of them went without food, and most of everything they could scrounge or steal would go to Maxwell. It was a slog, worse when in mourning, but time healed them enough to get their bearings straight. They were young, but they were not fools – foolishness was too expensive and they’ve barely a copper to their names! However, life sometimes sends even the weary its good graces. For them it was in the form of an airheaded musician who owned an accordion, the instrument of Maxwell’s dreams, and couldn’t hold his liqueur.
Things began to look brighter from there; Maxwell quickly honed his musical craft while Jack perfected the art of making paltry scraps and bits taste good. The two began making more and more coin – enough to lessen Jack’s thievery! Still he preferred to live in their underground abode. It was all they knew and they wouldn’t want it any other way aside from digging around to make it bigger. They’ve become financial stable as Maxwell grew in popularity while Jack manned the kitchens.
All good things had to come to an end, unfortunately. It was a major food run gone wrong. It was a simple enough task. Break in, steal good, get out. No amount of money they make could satiate the pit in his stomach without throwing them back into poverty. He couldn’t do that to his baby brother after all the efforts he put in! So off he went to fill his bag with edibles.
Nothing could have prepared him for the horrors he witnessed. It was an ordinary house recently purchased by a merchant who dealt in food goods. It was to be a gold mine! Jack had expected barrels full of food in the basement from grains and fruits. If he was lucky maybe some cured meat! Instead he became witness to what the merchant used his profits for. His feet moved like the wind in his attempt to escape the house, but the tentacles were much, much faster. One snagged his leg, another his waist, and before he could scream he was dragged into the darkness of the basement…
Three months… It was three months of hell saturated with torture and rituals. The unintelligible jargon that stained his mind. Lashings and vivisections, being sewn and resewn, kept alive by a sick concoction of chemicals and solutions, incense and herbs. The only light he knew for those three months, those three grueling months, were the tiny flickering flames of candlelight lit to perform their dark arts. Their final ritual unmade them. Failure after failure did his tormentors finally invoke success, and with it their regrets. Jack could not comprehend what all he saw, what all he felt. Hunger clawed at his mind, his skin blackening with a searing pain as if acid was injected into his veins. The stress, the insanity, its name – its name! They’ve invoked its name! A monster of gluttony, its lair of tar, ooze, and gloom. Darkness is its abode. His teeth was useless – another pair! Another pair! Sharper and sharper to grind bones to dust and meat to ribbons! Eat! Eat! He needed to eat! The eyes are useless – it reveals only lies! Out they go! Out they crawl! Out they fall! EAT!!!
Not a soul was spared that night. No longer could he see, but he could feel the massacre around him; smell it, revel in it. His mind was lost in a sea of misery, yet over yonder was a light that spun around frenzied, searching for him and failing… Despite the odds Jack found his way back to his hole in the ground where his brother lay in wait, grieving, believing he was dead.
The next day the brothers fled their home. They ran as far as they could knowing they could never return to their home… its presence now tainted. What all they’ve done to him, the reasons behind it all will be something that Jack will never know. However… it never left his mind, forever remaining in the depths of his relentless hunger. Perhaps this mansion… this estate that he had heard so much about will be the answer to the sickness that ails him.
Misc. Notes:
- Scars: Beneath all his clothes is little skin, rather, a horrid mural of scar tissue. From mismatched tones to a cascade of bubbling flesh, he's got it all from the neck down.
- Callous: His hands and feet are caked with it.
- Scents: Smells like coal and pine.
- Talk: Sounds like a cheese grater grinding a gravel road.
- Echolocation: Has been blind for a great deal of time. His eyes are now his ears.
-Skills & Equipment
Weapons:
- Fists: It's like being hit by a brick!
- Feet: Loves to stomp on things that crunch. Bone shattering.
- Teeth: Sharp, jagged, and terrible. Tears flesh like paper and bones to dust.
- Quarterstaff: Scuffed and scratched all over. Made of steel.
Armor:
None but his scarred flesh
Other gear:
- Shovel: The ground is always home.
- Flour: A versatile tool not only in cooking, but for traps involving fire!
- Matches: Its light is useless to him now, however its warmth is undeniable.
- Alchemical Substances: He may not be able to comprehend eldritch horrors, but he did learn something about the chemicals they pumped him with.
- Cooking utensils: Throw it all in a big pot and pray it turns out good.
- Bandages: To cover his eyes, arms, and legs.
Strengths:
- Ambush Predator: Jack is a sneaky bastard who prefers the art of ambush assaults. He moves like the wind with an unsettling grace and silence that before you know it he's already in front of your face with a fist pulled back.
- Crafty: His intelligence and wit is makes up for his lack of social skills. Anything can be a weapon and Jack for sure will use anything he grabs as such.
- Blind Chef: He’s only going off by scent, taste, and feeling alone. It may be an… odd color. Most of the times it will be, but know that whatever he makes will taste better than what it was if you can get past how unappetizing it looks.
Weaknesses:
- Bottomless hunger: Even when Jack stuffs his face full of food he still feels the insufferable clawing of his gluttony demanding more.
- Socially Inept: Although he is smart, his is socially incapable of holding a conversation without getting bored after the first minute or sliding in a crude, offensive, joke.
- Bestial: He’s a slave to his body’s wants and needs. Most of the time it leads to trouble.