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liamliam1234liam -> RE: Wasteland OOC[3-6 Wanderers Needed!] (1/18/2016 4:08:55)
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Just posting to edit later.
Character Name: Archie Jackson
Age: 32
Gender: Male
Clothing: Kevlar-lined combat pants and shirt (black), covered by a large dark brown custom trench-coat. The trench-coat itself has a middle layer of chain-mail. In addition, Archie owns a personal suit of nonrestrictive leather plate armor which he can wear over his normal pants and shirt when extra protection becomes necessary. He also owns a helmet crafted to fit his atypical head, should the need ever arise.
Weapons:
Modified 12-Gauge Revolver - The only weapon Archie keeps on his person at all times. He reliably carries numerous spare rounds in the pockets of his trench-coat, and constant practice has turned him into a sharpshooter and quick reloader. The gun itself weighs over ten pounds, which makes it a dangerous physical weapon as well.
Oversized Hammer - A giant metal hammer weighing a couple hundred pounds, sized appropriately for comparatively normal use by Archie.
Minigun - A weapon Archie only takes out when the situation is truly dire. Too large for an ordinary human to wield effectively. Comes with a strap.
Abilities:
Organic Absorption - Archie can absorb the effective "life energy" from organic matter and use it to heal himself or store the energy for use later (expended either through regeneration or through temporary limited increases in physical capabilities; Archie typically uses this to increase his speed, agility, and reflexes for short periods of time when needed). Although most of the time this process occurs with relative immediacy, Archie can control his ability enough to slow down the process when needed (such as when intimidating others by taking a few years off their life). This power is latent to an extent: were Archie's energy reserves to ever be exhausted and were he to experience catastrophic injury, he would automatically drain any organic matter with which he comes into contact unless he consciously exerted enough force of will to prevent this occurrence.
Hippopotamus Physiology - Archie has roughly the size and general appearance of a more humanoid hippopotamus, which grants him exceptional strength, constitution, and durability (in addition to the famously dangerous jaw strength and tusks, as well as other common hippopotamus attributes).
Story Route: Mind Sanctuary
Companion(s):
Antonio Blackwood - The partnership between Archie and Antonio came naturally to both: Archie might be the best muscle/bodyguard/enforcer in the world, and Antonio's ability to generate life provides a constant supply of organic matter for Archie to absorb.
"I hear about this place where the proprietor has any type of produce you can want. Well, I am a bit short on funds, but I figure anyone making that much bank could probably use some protection.
To be honest, all I want is just some watermelon. Guys like me were not exactly meant to live in a wasteland. Usually we prefer riverbeds. A massive fruit comprised of ninety percent water or whatever is as close to heaven as you can find out here.
Anyway, I head over there, and I see a guy - Antonio - in a heated exchange with a group of presumable ne'er-do-wells. Their backs are turned to me, and I guess either they were too distracted or I entered too quietly, because none of them seemed to register my entrance at all. Except Antonio, that is. I see his eyes flicker over to me for a moment, but his face stays completely impassive.
Now, these are some big fellows. Not like me, of course, but fairly sizable compared to the average person. The type of individuals one usually tries to avoid in high tension situations. I think to myself how the owner - again, Antonio, but I do not know that yet - deserves respect for barely betraying any reaction in the face of this intimidation. My initial plans were to lurk in the corner until their business resolved itself, but as I listen to the conversation I realise these disgruntled customers might escalate the debate to lethal levels. In the interest of complete disclosure, in another life I would probably sympathise with them a bit. Antonio is a shameless capitalist, and objections to his business practices tend to be at least partially legitimate. However, in the wastelands, you take whatever opportunity you can find.
I stalk over to the gang and position myself immediately behind the particularly vocal guy in the middle. After a few seconds, the middle guy seems to sense my presence and glances back. I watch him stiffen, and he and the rest turn to face me. At this point my suspicions from afar are confirmed: most of them are carrying guns. Middle guy holds a semi-automatic, the guys to his immediate left and right hold shotguns, and the rest I think have pistols. One of the pistol guys has turned white. I know he has no intention of doing anything to me. The rest are clearly agitated, but for the moment they still need to decide whether they can handle me. Middle guy looks at his gun, and in response I try to threateningly advise him against it. At that point in time, though, I had not yet mastered my new means of speech, and I think it comes out more as a growl. Whatever, the growl is even more effective than the threat. Another guy has clearly abandoned his nerve. Almost all of them are rethinking their life choices.
Middle guy is either stupid or too stunned to think rationally. He starts to make a move. I presume most of them had forgotten about the deceptive speed of hippopotamuses. In half a second, I am holding his head in one hand and his gun in the other hand. The gun crunches, and the final holdouts realise their situation. You never truly understand the size of a hippopotamus until you are standing right next to one, and even then your brain needs a few moments to truly wrap its mind around the concept. I tower over these guys. With new eyes, they see how their bullets can only aggravate me, how one of my kicks could put three of them in a coffin.
The other five sprint out of there. Middle guy has released his bowels. I can crush his head with the same ease you can crush a kiwi fruit. His fate is quite literally in the palm of my hand.
After what I am sure were the most agonising seconds of his life, I drop him to the floor. He and his buddies make the best decision of their lives and never return. As for Antonio, he looks at me with the same subdued but inquisitive expression he usually has, and without missing a beat he asks, 'Do you want a job?' "
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