TerminusEst13

Urge to screw beliefs in pacifism over rising.

Kairaishi continued to squirm out of the sewer tube, opening up the grate and quickly jumping out--suddenly releasing his breath in an audible "WHOO!" and clutching his chest, panting slightly. "Ugh. I hate the sewers. So many wonderful things mixed into warm water: Urine, feces, rotting food, vomit, and what else have you got for me, Johnny...I doubt I'm ever going to forget that lovely scent." He shook his head to clear his senses and then looked over into the yard, spotting Archlich--looking very pissed, well, at least, as pissed as a skeleton would look. Kairaishi frowned. "Uh-oh. I hope I didn't pick up an angsty dork."
Kairaishi took a fleeting glance at the three Archlich was going away from and shrugged, holstering his new shotgun onto his waist and starting to jog over, giving a big wave to his...coadjutor. "Hey, man, what's up? You look mad as hell. Oh, and I managed to skootch some more info and a few new toys for us while I was down there--particularly, how to get out of here and what the hell happened."

The man with the gun wasn't just "passed". Rugasso had actually bumped into him, sending him hurtled over and smacking against the wall, the back of his head slamming none-too-gently as well. He was stunned for a few seconds, gritting his teeth and breathing deeply against the pain...he stood up, slowly, his grip faltering on the shotgun, his other hand reaching up to hold the back of his head, groaning as he stumbled forward like a drunkard, wobbling every other step. After the first five steps, his walk started to straighten, and his hands became steady as he continued to jog forward. His jog soon burst into a run...but soon, he came to another four-way intersection, and he had to stop, peering each direction.
That little stop had cost him the trail of Kairaishi. "Damn it."
But it didn't cost Kairaishi the trail of the man. If the man had looked upwards, he would soon see everyone's favorite puppeteer, fully costumed, doing the splits, one leg pushing against either of the walls, holding him upright in a decent imitation of Sam Fischer's most famous move. Except with one difference--Sam Fischer had often used this position to snipe away at incoming enemies who didn't know they were there. Kairaishi couldn't, because he lacked a weapon. While he had found all of his other devices, gadgets, equipment, and wirings along with his armor, he simply didn't have his trust bow-with-loads-of-different-arrows. But that's all right. What he would have soon enough would have to suffice.
"BANZAAAAAAAIIII!"
"What the fuuAAAAUUUUGHH!"
The scuffle was shortlived, the last noise coming out to be a sickening snap and a groan. Then, Kairaishi's voice, speaking amusedly.
"Aw, it's just what I've always wanted. Merry Christmas to you, too, buddy."

A few noteless minutes later, Kairaishi had made his way to the hole, peering down into it, shotgun slung over his shoulder. There was nothing remotely interesting about it, aside from the fact that it led into the sewers, and that there was some guy nearby babbling about "conning enemies" and "police drones behind me to practice". Problem was, there was only a wall behind him. Kairaishi sufficed that it would be best to leave this obviously mentally-disturbed person alone, and to go his merry way. He had already ransacked the armory where Archlich had obviously been before, but he had been unable to find his bow-and-arrow. Oh well. The shotgun would suffice nicely. Besides...he had a few other surprises up his sleeve, with his costume back and his other equipment working at full power. He waited a few minutes, tapping his foot impatiently. Where was the Archlich? He was already going this direction, he probably made it to the hole quicker than he had made it...wait. There weren't any other passageways aside from the path he himself had took...which meant...ah, of course. The [censored] ditched him here. Kairaishi shrugged, looking down the hole. Or maybe he had slipped and tumbled his way down. That would've been amusing. Either way, if he hadn't already been here, he must've been killed along the way. If he HAD, then he's just waiting in a later place. Or ditched him. Shrugging, Kairaishi trekked onwards, ignoring the sewer slop that soaked against his wrapped boots, walked past the Arachnos soldier wordlessly, and then opened the sewer pipe gate, starting to crawl through and up it.

Kairaishi stayed in place, observing Archlich as he headed off...Jimmy's words rang clear in his head. That's usually where they put armor and weapons. He closed his eyes, thinking. "Hm. Maybe I'll get lucky and find my bow back with my armor...yeah, and maybe I'll find a [censored] minigun in there, too." He shook his head, jogging his way up the stairs that was nearby Jimmy. Taking a left, he saw himself facing a short corridor, which he wordlessly jogged down--the sirens were still blaring in the prison, and the chaos of disorganized prisoners and desperate police officers was really starting to annoy him. He shook his head, trying to clear his mind of the chaos, muttering quietly. "Damnable peons. Only two years in this place, and I'm already sick of them...oh well, I'll be gone after only a little bit." As soon as he turned a left at the four-way intersection at the end of the corridor, he paused a bit. A few diagrams underneath the brim of his coolie hat were blinking in alarm, and he narrowed his eyes, focusing on them...waiting a few seconds.
With a sudden KRACHOOM erupting behind him, Kairaishi quickly dove to the side, a wide spray of buckshot narrowly missing his form. Kairaishi rolled on his back and stood upright swiftly, staring at the form of another man, still in his Zig outfit, holding a smoking shotgun in his hand. The two glared over at each other, and the second man slowly pulled the shuck back, an empty buckshot shell ejecting from the gun, then slowly pushed it forward again, ready for another shot.
Kairaishi's eyes stayed put on their target, never leaving the man. "Binelli M3 Super-90, eh? Not a bad choice."
The man's eyes returned the lock, eminating only hatred for the object his sights were fixed on. "I ganked it off some cop's corpse. Snapped his neck from behind."
Kairaishi's arms tensed, opening and closing his hands, knuckles and fingers popping with each movement. "You realize this is a little unfair for me, right? You've got a shotgun, and all I've got is my fists and my armor."
The man grinned widely, his eyes narrowing. "Ain't that a cryin' shame."
He raised up the shotgun to his shoulder, starting to take aim at Kairaishi, but the latter simply raised up one hand. "Stop! There's something you need to know."
The man lowered his shotgun just a slight bit. "Oh? And what's that?"
Behind his mask, Kairaishi grinned. "I always love how, no matter what, people will wait if you say to stop or hold it, giving you enough time to run away." And that he did, a 'ker-chk' sounding around his legs and whirling around, starting to speed down at the corridor at an amazing pace. The man audibly swore, lifting up his shotgun again and firing once more, but buckshot had a wide spread--Kairaishi was so far away, all the buckshot did was nick him.
"God damn it. I need to start using that trick, too."

((Will continue later, pressed for time now))

((Well, to be honest, these are threat-level-1 villains, still groggy from the tranquilizing drugs that the Zig officers make them take. Heroes in Brickstown are...I forget what level, but I think around level 30 or so? What're the heroes gonna do, sit back and clean up some Arachnos soldiers? There's prolly going to be very little hero/villain interaction, unless the hero-muns give the villain-muns a LOT of leeway. Then again, Khel may have something else in mind))

The man shrugged, uncurling out of his ball, grinning widely behind his mask as he took the hand and pulled on it, standing up. He stretched his arms wide and bent backwards a few inches, groaning happily as several bones popped. "Prolly because this armor isn't for offensive capabilities. It just keeps me safe--this body is one of just a common citizen, hardly a superpowered being. As such, it can't really withstand half the things a cape throws at it. The armor is designed to withstand such things, not to help me throw out such stuff." He shook his head and slumped a bit, letting out a deep breath, and then leaned over to pick up his horned hat, sticking it on top of his head. He tapped the brim, and smiled slightly as he stared at the underside of said brim. "Oh well. You got me upright, so I've got your back."
Sticking his hands into his pockets, the man tilted his head to the side. "Archlich? Nice to meet you, I suppose, you can call me Kairaishi if you so desire. Or 'that damn puppeteer'. Doesn't really matter." He then shrugs. "Armor, you say? I remember rolling by a guy named Jimmy...Dorts...Durnst...Dunce...Jimmy D-something. I'd never forget the [censored], he always had it good with the officials here. Anyway, he was talking to some random guy, but he said he could point said guy in the direction where the cops kept confinscated equipment--for study, for blackmail, for selling, I've no damn clue. But the point is, he said stuff was there, and I can't think of any stuff that he'd point a villain in the direction of unless it's stuff that was formerly theirs. Think it'd be a good lead, or think he's full of [censored]?"

((Apologies if I shouldn't be skipping H.T., but I figured with so many other prisoners busted out, he's had to have gotten his painkillers already. If you want me to edit to point in the direction of H.T., I will))

The horned coolie hat was knocked off the man when the skeleton had pushed him onto his back (surprisingly, it had stayed on the entire time he was rolling around), but he seemed nonchalant about the interruption. He shook his head to clear his senses from the sudden change in position and direction, but then stared up unblinkingly at the skeleton. He looked very much like a simple human--not-so-muscular build, somewhat scrawny, a little shorter than average...but there was a glint in his eye, a glint that showed promise of a power far greater and far more ancient than his less-than-flattering appearance would let on.
"You kick my back, I watch yours." He spoke cooly. What else could he do but agree? Here he was, with his body armor malfunctioning and trapping him, and he was in the clutches of this...skeleton. It was likely not a good idea to oppose him.
But, in any case, the man arched an eyebrow at the skeleton, saying nothing more.

"Stupid...stupid Zig...stupid guards...stupid explosion..."
The prisoners were making their way left and right, a jumbled stream of chaos as they rushed from their recently-opened cells. Sirens blared through the prison. Lights flashed down on the ground down below. Officers yelled panicked orders at each other. Heavy footsteps trampled across the dirt. What was formerly a peaceful prison a half hour ago was now a scene of chaos and confusion. Prisoners were flooding the main hallways, swarming over officers and quickly outpowering them.
What had caused such an event?
A bomb had been detonated, which somehow opened most of the prison cells, and a plane had crashed through the walls of the prison. Black-armored soldiers had quickly taken position in the area, and were now fighting against the prison security alongside the prisoners--a horrifically one-way fight.
"Stupid...STUPIDNESS!"
Not every prisoner was really free, though. In one prison cell, a man was huddled up on the ground, curled up into a fetal position, his arms wrapped around his knees. He struggled and squirmed, though, and his constant grunts and groans gave the impression that he did not want to be in such a position. The man was dressed in the simple orange pants and jacket that identified him as a prisoner in the Zigursky prison, with a coolie hat on top with two horns sticking out of the front, much like a devil's horns. He had a black mask wrapped around his mouth, which complimented the black hair that went down to his neck under the hat, and red X-shaped warpaint surrounding his brown eyes. There was a large-but-thin box on his back, with numerous wires and metal gizmos going through the suit, assuming to wrap around his body underneath--the rolled up sleeves on his jacket revealed an amalgam of skeletal bodyarmor accented with numerous wires and unidentifiable devices fitted around his arm, ending at his wrist. This armor had apparently been deactivated...possibly during the explosion, or possibly when he came here. What had acted as his source of powers now acted as a secondary prison, the one way to bar his freedom.
Naturally, the man was not happy about this.
"LET ME OUT! Come on, guys, let me out, too! I need to have a piece of action! Come on, help me out here! ...Please?"
The man received no response--likely because his questions were simply not heard over the din and ruckus of prisoners celebrating their exit from prison, or likely because the prison was full of jerks.
He felt weak. He felt helpless.
"Okay, I hate these feelings. Time to swallow my pride."
In a feat much like Samus Aran's own morph ball, the man slowly, clumsily, started to roll out of the prison, praying that nobody would kick him or step on him. This was humiliating enough as it is. It looked almost comedic.

My personal favorite is Adrian Gainnes. I, personally, think that's your best work--though I've always been fond of old black-n-white noir stuff.

...I so want to meet the char now.

Virtue, hands-down. It's not overflowing with RPers, but there's more on Virtue than on any other server.

The most trouble I have with RPing is when someone is taking an uber-long time to zone.

But we usually joke about it, saying that "the door has bested yet another teammate, what a foul fiend!"

NERF LONGBOW.









plz

Does anyone know what files/folders the annoying sewer/near-door songs have that...just...won't...go...away?

They REALLY cut into my music listening, especially when I'm playing MP3s outside of CoH/V.

[Flora Fairchild has deleted this e-mail]

"Except for socially, you're my role model."

[ QUOTE ]
Hey I could have always made a werewolf or the son/daughter of a demon...we never see any of those...

[/ QUOTE ]

[sob]

[ QUOTE ]
I am working on flushing it out more....this was just what I have in his "In-Game" bio....not really a lot of room there to add more.

[/ QUOTE ]

Understandable.

[ QUOTE ]
As for a history, I don't think there will be one. I like the thought of people not knowing why he is the way he is....as for motivation, since when did a serial killer or sociopath need motivation? He is obviously insane in his fixation on the fact that people don't smile when he tries to cheer them...so he kills them instead.

[/ QUOTE ]

Since always. Delve into the psychology of even the most twisted killer, and there's always a reason as to why. But, well, you've explained his motive right there.

[ QUOTE ]
I hope not to sound ignorant but what do you mean by this?

[/ QUOTE ]

Since it's his in-game bio, you'll likely not be able to fix it, but I'm referring to how the "flashbacks" are always in the same line as the text, which makes it a bit of an eyesore.
For example, "blah de blah de blah **FLASHBACK, OMGPWNTLOL** blah de blah de blah".
Normally, there are breaks in between those three things, so it sometimes comes out as
"blah de blah de blah
**FLASHBACK, OMGPWNTLOL**
blah de blah de blah"
...which, believe me, is far, far easier to read.

[ QUOTE ]
Thanks for reading.

[/ QUOTE ]

No problem. I always enjoy reading up on other peoples' chars. And I must say, it is an intriguing concept--the psychopathic clown angle isn't really original anymore, but the way you've created him into a unique branchoff of a necromancer really, really sets him apart from the others. Nice job.

...Kids didn't smile, so he decided to kill them?

No history, no motivation, no statistics, no reason for doing such...all we get is a little bit of what he currently does, as well as a recap of some random thing he used to do. I see lots of place for improvement here, unless you're trying to keep him mysterious. Or something.

Also, the constant lack of breaks between actions and melding them within the text makes MY eyes water. Well, not water. Makes them spurt with blood.

"I hate pie."

Freedom.

GEARFATE
Image.
Full name: Johann Ludwig Gear
Occupation: Freelancing street fighter
Class: Brute
Origin: Magic
Race: Dimensionally-altered human
Alignment: Chaotic Evil
Age: 23
Eye Color: Yellowish brown
Hair Color: Dark brown
Birthdate: November 1st
Nationality: German/Thai
Blood Type: A
Height: 7'1 (height increased due to the magic he absorbed)
Weight: Unknown, never weighs himself
Special Skill: A masterful electric guitarist
Hobbies: Jamming on his guitar, working on his fighting moves
Favorite Food: Steak, medium-rare
Favorite Drink: Vanilla cream soda
Favorite Sport: Baseball
Favorite Music: Heavy metal
Prized Things: His hat
Likes: Pretty girls, his allies Makregor and Codeine ((my other two villains))
Dislikes: Being in pain, Hellions

BIO:
"Take away a man's food, his light, his money, his air, his water, his friends, his clothes, and his life, and you leave him with nothing but himself. And for most, that is not pleasant company." --Ranse Truman
Johann Gear wasn't always a bad person. He was originally an A-student at Togetherness Central Community College. He excelled in many of his subjects, but was particularly good with psychology and philosophy. He loved to try and figure out how people thought, and he enjoyed pondering about spiritual matters. He was the proverbial teacher's pet, always doing his extra assignments, always returning things on time, always getting high scores. He wasn't perfect, but he was close.
Unfortunately, nobody ever bothered to ask "why?". And "why" was simple. Johann was a loner. Being such a paper-pusher never left him with many friends, and people usually avoided him--people may always want to be the best of the best, but it's always a single existance. The only solace and comfort he could find was in his books and in his studies. He was always studying and getting high scores because he had no other purpose in life. He had nothing else he could do.
And he wanted more. He hated how all he could do was just be a geek. He wanted more out of life. Eventually, he grew to despise the very studies that once gave him comfort. In desperation, he turned to drugs in an attempt to give his life meaning. Eventually, it started off small, with just cigarettes. He soon grew onto harder and harder drugs, though, starting to take in codeine and cocaine. In a desperation to try and get bigger rides to get high with, though, he soon came across the Hellions, and their signature drugs. He became one of their greatest customers, and also became fascinated with their religion. He grew so into them, that he was accepted as an "honorary" Blood Brother in the Hellions.
Out of all the gangsters, he was likely the most twisted. Due to his constant drug abuse, mainlining roughly every substance on the market, he could never really fight much, nor did he preform a lot of missions for them, so he never advanced beyond Blood Brother. He took their ceremonies and dark rituals seriously, though, and took their religion to heart. He was constantly acting as a negotiator for other gangs, or as a lackey for the priests. He was also consistently researching all of their magic, studying and identifying their artifacts, what their purpose was, and what they needed to be used for.
Whereas he did much help in preventing the Hellions from nuking themselves, his lack of strength and power kept him from garnering any respect in their ranks, and everyone was constantly walking all over him. Johann was usually too stoned to care, though, or shrugged it off and went back to his studies. It always stung, though. Here, he thought he could finally belong in something, and he didn't.
When Jarrod Banestake had the science accident that permanently changed his life and turned him into the armored hero Banestake, he thought the destruction of his office would completely obliterate any traces of what had happened. He thought wrong. Johann, on recon, staking out new turf for the Hellions, was the first who discovered the rubble of Jarrod's office. The wreckage from Banestake's attempt at destruction was obvious, and Johann was barely able to proceed further. However, intent upon somehow pleasing his bosses, he was more than intent upon preforming his job. Johann soon discovered the remnants of Jarrod's interdimensional experiment lay on the ground: the demonic atmosphere that gave Jarrod his dark powers. One difference, though...having been exposed to our enviroment, it had solidified into a sort of acidic ooze.
Always intent upon finding new substances to get addicted to, Johann picked it up into a needle and injected it straight into his veins.
He couldn't handle the sudden agony that wracked his entire body, pulsing through his entire body, and passed out for several days. Even during his sleep, he could only feel what could merely be described as superheated acidic razor glass traveling through his veins.
Eventually, he woke up. An entire week had passed during he found the remains of Banestake's experiment, and Johann found himself in the hospital. He wasn't quite sure how he had got there...but he did know one thing. His eyes felt like they were on fire. He got out of the medical bed and went to the mirror, and found that the skin around his eyes had corroded completely, and turned a foul black color. As he looked his body over, he also noticed he appeared...more muscular than before. As he walked through the room, he stared at the clock. The seconds hand seemed to be...slow to him. Frowning, he picked up a glass and dropped it on the ground. It fell down at almost 3/4s of the speed he could vaguely remember something falling at. The shattering of the glass on the ground also seemed...slow, and overly dramatic. He reached down and sifted through the glass with his hand...and even pressed his hand down with force against the glass...and didn't even get scratches.
He was tied to the same dark energy that gave Banestake his powers. However, while Banestake was merely exposed to the hellish energy, Johann had taken it and welcomed it into his body. He would have died, if he had been a normal human. But he was a Blood Brother. The black magic from the Blood Brothers' dark rituals, fused with the macabre energy that he had injected into himself...turned Johann into more than a mere human. He was now a true superhuman, though he didn't realize it--all he realized was that he felt invincible.
Now he could get revenge on everyone, and prove to them that he was worth something!
He walked out of the now-burning hospital, a bag of supplies on his back, fresh blood smeared all over his body, a spring in his step, a whistle on his lips, and a shredded Blood Brother membership card lying in the blazing inferno. "What's mine is mine. What's yours is mine. It's time to get serious, baby, I'm gonna own this city's [censored]."
Unfortunately, his lack of being able to cut himself soon cut into his drug abuse, as well as his (as he soon found out) mask having been welded to his skin. Going through incredibly painful withdrawal, and in a desperation to make money, Johann turned to the underground street fighting scene, donning the name Gearfate. He soon discovered more of his powers throughout his fighting career--his attacks getting channeled with dark energy, and the tie to the earth his flesh had. He seriously wounded numerous combatants, having hospitalized for life at least 14, and killing almost 32. Banestake found out his alterego, and before he could develop his powers further, teamed up with Shaelther and Exormale ((my three CoH chars)) to gang up on Gearfate and send him to the Ziggurrat without much trouble.
Gearfate was pissed, but he still managed to sneak in several books to this maximum security penitentiary. He also met two other villains who he had to share a cell with...the unpredictable Makregor and the quiet Codeine. He soon grew to befriend them...
One year passed, and Arachnos struck the prison, freeing many "destined ones". Makregor and Codeine was among them, and they were more than willing to help free their ally. Gearfate now wanders the streets...intent upon finding a group of more like-minded villains, and act as their stone fist of violence.

PERSONALITY:
Gearfate is loud, arrogant, and violent. He's very vocal, constantly commenting upon the current situation no matter what it is (whether mentally or verbally), and occaisionally quipping off sarcastic one-liners. He's suprisingly calm and cool for his personality, though, constantly scanning a situation and trying to find how it can best benefit him. Though hardly one for strategy (hence why he desires to be little more than a high-ranked lackey in a gang), he's far far more in-control of a situation than one would realize. He rarely loses his temper, though is constantly at a thirst for blood and violence.

FIGHTING STYLE: American Freestyle Karate
Martial arts vary in many ways. This is obvious. There are so many different kinds of fighting styles, each of which differ for several reasons: Technique emphasis, instructor's preference, and culture. "Culture?" you may ask. Yes, culture. The japanese martial arts were originated by their swords, and sword fights usually lasted only one or two exchanges. That has influenced the Japanese viewpoint of martial arts, letting rise to emphasis of the "one punch kill" concept, which obviously derived from one-cut-kill. In Korea, it's an insult of the worst kind to punch someone in the face, but it is fine to kick someone there--which gave rise to a kick-focused martial art.
In the United States, they take what works and apply it to their styles. An american's natural irreverence to tradition does not bind them to a cultural style--doing it a certain way because that was the way it's been done for years. This was the beginning of American Freestyle Karate. "Freestyle" implies an inclusiveness of all the possibilities. If you can only kick, you will be in trouble if a wrestler gets you on the ground. There are limitations in an only one or two martial art approach. American Freestyle Karate includes punching, kicking, joint locking, breaking holds, and grappling moves. In short, any kind of possible fight situation you might find yourself in is covered in training.
American Freestyle Karate is not a "take the best from each style" approach. It's just one of being prepared, adapting a style to where you feel the most comfortable, much like Jeet Kune Do. With American Freestyle Karate, every student is taught to protect themselves and others--to get out, and stay out, of trouble--to pursue a life of honor and integrity. Unfortunately for the art, Gearfate is hardly honorable, nor does he have any intention to stay out of trouble.

MISC FACTS:
Gearfate, through all his villainy, has one primary virtue--loyalty. He's incredibly loyal to his allies, and to whoever he works for, and has NO patience or tolerance for traitors and double-crossers. He feels that he owes Arachnos his life for busting him out of prison, and will not do anything against them without good reason.