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Roleplaying / [SOLO] Fast Food (Thor)
« on: April 21, 2020, 07:55:14 PM »
Thor’s penthouse had a view of the skyline. He liked that about it, that it put him above everything else, able to see a large swathe of the city laid out at his feet, as if it was subservient, and as if it belonged solely to him. It did in a way, everything did as he saw it, all of it small and delicious and so exquisitely human. He liked looking down, because when you couldn’t fly it felt pretty close.

Black marble was the name of the game in as far as his interior decorating went, sleek minimalist lines flecked with gold and solid gold sculptures here and there, all of them depicting predatory scenes, all bared claws and dripping fangs. It did not look like the office of a man in charge of providing meat to the population, but that was what it was. There was plenty of money in slaughterhouses and wholesale, especially when you didn’t have to worry about trivial things like attending to the workforce’s human needs.

Of course most of the slaughterhouses were out in rural places in the back end of Iowa or North Carolina, but cities were where his goods ended up at the end of the supply chain. It was truly a wonderful business, and he could afford to spend his days overseeing the operation from a city that was well tailored to his specific...needs. Sometimes it was pleasant to rub elbows with his own kind in an open sort of way. Just because he hated other people didn’t mean he couldn’t get some enjoyment out of spending time with them anyway. Tearmann had its upsides.

It was a quiet evening, much like every other quiet evening and the streetlights wound a fairy light path through the streets as distant cars crawled like ants along their neat and tidy little paths.

Stepping outside, the wind licked at Thor’s long hair, bringing on the air the distant swirling scents of springtime. He had a truly fantastic sense of smell, better than his other senses by miles. He could smell colour in the way pigments and materials smelled, he could smell magic, he could smell things he didn’t even have words for. Standing here he could smell a man in the street below whose smell was swept up to him on the breeze and knew in a flash of keen knowledge that he hadn’t washed in three days, had sex two days ago and had an undiagnosed blood deficiency.

In this human form, Thor didn’t get to dress in the golden armour he preferred, instead like this it was something much simpler, finely tailored suits across his broad muscled chest and layers of restrictive clothing to control the facets of his anatomy he didn’t want to be aware of. His teeth were also restricted like this, only the set on his face able to move at all.

Dent didn’t live in Tearmann and that was a bit of a shame, it meant that on evenings like this , there was no one of a comparable intellectual level to him to spend time with. His relationship with the other demon was complicated, and he avoided dwelling too long on it, lest he slide into a state of misery. He was on his own, that was all there was to it, and he’d certainly dealt with that state of being before.

He was hungry, but let’s be honest, as a gluttony demon, he was ALWAYS hungry.

Pigs were cheap. He could slaughter hundreds of them in a week or two for chump change, but when it came to humans, those were a much, much more expensive type of meat, and of course, he had a taste for them. The additional problem was that he didn’t just want to eat ANY kind of human, he was a breeder of pedigree pigs, producer of artisanal meats. He knew what good meat was and you didn’t get good meat on industrial antibiotics and bone meal, you needed to really feed them well and treat them well. His favourite humans were adults - but not too old, beyond a certain age the meat got gamy - upper middle class, lean and fit with a diet of vegetables and exotic coffee.

He wondered if having a taste for hipsters, in turn made him one too?

The problem was though, that you didn’t simply just kidnap someone from that sort of background, irritatingly people would miss them. No one missed a homeless person, a runaway, a prostitute without a background, but they missed their trust fund raised offspring. Still, with the right money in the right places, things could be arranged.

He was still a few weeks out from his next contract though, and the hunger gnawed at him anyway.

Somewhere under his clothing there was a low growl, the sound of a stomach rumbling but larger and far more animalistic. It deepened and he turned away from the balcony’s view.

He didn’t normally go out, he didn’t like to mingle with the stink of humanity, but tonight would just need to be different. It would be one of those junk food nights, one of those nights where he chalked it up as a loss and slunk out to places he wouldn’t normally go. Dent wasn’t here and honestly, he needed sustenance in every respect.

Returning to the penthouse, he picked up his phone and dialled his secretary and arranged for the car to be brought around. He wasn’t sure where to go, but he was sure once he was out there that he’d figure something out. It was less playing it by ear and more playing it by nose.

Profiles / Thoraz
« on: April 19, 2020, 07:03:17 AM »
Name: Thoraz
Nickname: Thor
Apparent Age: It varies. Sometimes a kid, sometimes an adult.
Occupation: Slaughterhouse owner and completely legitimate Entrepreneur

Human Form
A toweringly tall man with long long dark hair and a perfect physique and a strange scar across his throat. Never seen without some manner of gold accessory on his person.
Sometimes he also appears as a small harmless boy weraring a t-shirt with a cartoony pig on it somewhere.

True Forms
https://file.toyhou.se/images/1660096_sTMx1KuhoKr1lin.jpg - Though he's even darker in hue than this.
https://file.toyhou.se/images/8593102_6nGgpKsq42K7Zuu.jpg - NSFW REFERENCE - His weirdass anatomy and mid-boar form.

Bitter and dark, with a hatred for almost everything, Thor is driven by his own goals and doesn't speak about them to almost anyone. Sometimes he can behave in ways which seem incredibly stupid.

He is known to bargain with people for what's important to them.

Around Thor humans are generally oblivious as to his true nature, but to magical beings, the dark energy from him seems strong enough to peel the paint from the walls. It's almost intolerable to stay around him for any length of time for other demons if they are aren't naturally tuned to cope with vast amounts of magical potential energy.

Fortunately, he doesn't seem to go out much.

Roleplaying / [SOLO] A Check Up (Rep x Dexter)
« on: April 18, 2020, 06:48:56 PM »
Rep had closed the bar for a day and decided that he needed to have a day off. He didn't like work, and even though he left most of the running of the bar day to day to other people, he still ended up getting called in at unexpected fucking hours of the day for some crisis or other. If it was closed, the sheer number of things which could go wrong were massively -  though not completely - diminished. He didn't want to stay indoors either when he was having a day off because for sure someone or other would ask him to do something and he just wasn't in the mood to do it. So he was going out, because out was where he wanted to fucking be right now.

Following up on leads on Dexter had come to nothing, not one fucking person in this godforsaken town had heard about the prick or his labs. He wasn't sure what he expected, the kind of people who came to bars like his weren't usually the kind of people to frequent laboratories belonging to ridiculous scientist losers.

Stepping out into the street, he immediately felt that old pull of power, the desire to just stretch out his legs - his true legs - and just fucking run and maybe kill something. But it wasn't as simple as that, nothing was ever simple, and in the city it always felt so fucking far away from forests and wide open spaces where he could tear through nature like the hunting machine that he was.

Flitting through familiar routes and alleyways he beelined to an old dive of a club, with a buzzing sign, a bouncer with a missing eye and the kind of clientele who didn't really invite humans into their midst. It wasn't a forest but with enough substances sometimes he could pretend it was, and with his vicious rejection of human comfort from any regular angle at all, he could get a little bit of intimacy in the form of feverish dancing.

It was different tonight though, he could feel it from the moment he leaned on the bar, a difference in the energy of the patrons, a bit of electric nervousness on the air, something delicious and new. It set him on edge too, and he forewent his usual hit just to keep his wits about him. He probably should have listened to that instinct and held onto it, because once the music got going and nothing major happened, he found himself tempted to just relax and before long he was a few drinks down and more besides and was in the middle of a bouncing thrashing pit of dancers, his nose numb and olfactory senses crammed up with sweat.

Towards the end of the evening he took a break, heading outside for a smoke and stepping into the piss-smelling alleyway where two people ignored him in the throes of making out over a big steel bin. He growled low in his throat and moved away from them.

"Fucking disgusting." he spat in annoyance.

Another figure stood off to one side, dressed in a long dramatic cloak and wearing what looked like a backpack underneath it, he ignored them at first, taking a long irritable draw of his cigarette which he could hardly fucking taste.

"Do you know what night it is?" the figure said, and Rep stopped with the smoke half way to his mouth, eyes wide.

"It's been five years." and a cruel, familiar chuckle. "Omega."

It was one fluid motion as Rep swung to face the figure, shifting into his much larger form in an explosion of fangs, fur and claws, but he never got to make contact with him, instead finding his strength failing him almost immediately and slumping helplessly to the other man's feet.

Dexter stepped over the prone form. "It's time for your checkup." he said as more waiting bodies emerged from the shadows. "Bring him back to me." he said.

Profiles / Dr Dexter Darke
« on: April 18, 2020, 03:38:34 PM »
Name: Dr Dexter Darke
Nickname: Dexter, Asshole
Apparent Age: 30ish
Occupation: Experimental Biologist.

Dexter is an angel and in his true form is a strange ethereal serpentine being with a large brilliantly glowing star that hovers above his head.


However in his normal guise he is mostly human looking except with the addition of a large pair of condor wings which he can't shift out to his complete annoyance.


Rude, abrasive, brisk, honestly a bit of an incel in many ways. He is obsessed with strange anime, manga and has so many unpleasant personality traits that its almost impossible to list them.

In short he's a horrible yet handsome neckbeard who is tolerated solely for his enormous intellect.

He doesn't work well with others and has had more assistants than hot dinners.

Supernaturally, Dexter feels like a very powerful angel, even in his human form and he's surrounded by strange magical radiation and contamination.

Profiles / William "Rep" Wolfe
« on: April 18, 2020, 04:40:59 AM »
Name: William Wolfe
Nickname: Rep
Apparent Age: A fairly grizzled 28
Occupation: Part of a piracy ring and weed seller.

Rep is of average height but feels much much taller thanks to the way he carries himself. He is a muscular lean man with the kind of muscle that would make any gym rat jealous. His hair is vibrantly and brilliantly red, with black striped dyed into it like a tiger. Every inch of his body is covered in freckles and he has a huge jagged scar across the bridge of his very aquiline nose. He has tattoos all across his chest, back and arms and his hair reaches all the way down his back. He typically dresses in sleeveless shirts, denims and ratty old trainers with way too much aftershave in an attempt to cover the scent of animal. For some reason he has an omega scarred onto the back of his hand.


In his shifted form he is a truly enormous tiger striped wolf shaped creature who when injured regenerates at a truly staggering page, with strange twisting growths of flesh that merge into their old shapes.


Rep is unpredictable with a calm veneer on top of a deep, bitter well of violence and aggression. He is someone who feels like he could snap at any moment at all. Meeting new people he either outright hates them or decides to own them and keep them as a "friend" which is also more or less a subordinate. His normal response fully depends on what kind of mood he's in and what he might do one day he might not do another. He is incredibly easy to slight with a delicate ego and a tendency to lash out when wounded. He doesn't have a filter, he doesn't have a sense of self control and generally he comes across as a badly socialised animal, swinging between fear aggression and general aggression. He is promiscuous and homophobic in spite of being fiercely drawn to men and resentful of women which causes no end of confusion.

Generally he's not someone anyone wants to be around very long and you are incredibly unlucky if you end up in his company.

To any kind of supernatural creature Rep is an assault on the senses. Normally smelling very strongly of musk and canine to anyone with a nose, including normal humans, he also has a feeling of suppressed power about him. When he shapeshifts he is truly massive and feels like a very primal sort of chaotic magic, shaped vaguely into the container of a werewolf but something a bit different than most strains. Even when he's a human it is difficult for anyone with keen senses to mistake him for one. The strangest part of him is to creatures finely attuned to magic there is something oddly celestial about his core powers.

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