Post by Deleted on Oct 15, 2019 2:22:28 GMT -5
Character Name:
Inky (Deitr Aspland)
Desired Faction:
Villain
Desired Tier:
IV
Brief explanation of what your goals are:
Dear Inky will be a perpetual threat on the site, an agent of chaos and a source of disorder and disobedience. I wish to push the agenda that not all villains can be reasoned with and not all will play along with the big bad evil guy. He is not a joker character by any means, but instead will serve as an ever present shadow over the hearts of the people in the world. He will bring out the worst in people, intentionally, and revel in it. He may even choose to give himself over to one of the other villains as a temporary ally and weapon, as long as the possibility for his own amusement exists.
As a response to this, write a solo (of decent length ((your discretion))) that will show us this start-up in action!
Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Was it the clock, or the man in the sock? A sock, no, not a sock, but a sack heavy and coated with sweet coppery blood. The man hung from his ankles just like a little piggy inside his funny little sock. But who was it that made him bleed? Not I said Inky. Oh no, Inky was a good boy. Inky did his very best not to touch. Touching was bad, his mother told him so. It was not Inky, but it was the other man. He said they were friends, but then why was he swinging that bat so hard. Inky supposed rage made you do silly things.
CRACK! Another blow elicited a whine and a series of barely audible sobs. Oh he was still alive! What blessed fate! Inky could sing! The show would go on! He rolled onto his back and kicked his feet into the air, throwing his arms to the sides and basking in the tingling feeling that it all gave him. It made him feel...whole. The man holding the bat let out a choked sob of his own, the grip on his bat growing loose. Inky sat up, staring at the man's fingers like they were the most fascinating things in the world. Would he drop the bat? Could he drop the bat?
"Oh whatever is the matter friend of friends?" Inky asked, pushing off the small ledge and landing on his inky feet. Yes, Inky certainly did have feet, and hands too! Hands that he put behind his back while he stalked toward the man. Inky's voice sunk low, a warning in his tone; "Why did you stop? He hurt you didn't he?"
"B-but isn't this enough?" The man choked out, his face drenched in the sweat of his exertions. The muscle in his upper arm throbbed visibly and Inky had to stop to appreciate it. Even so, only his eyes moved when he returned his focus to the man's face.
"Enough?" He asked, what a silly question! What tomfoolery and goofiness! Inky stamped his foot and slid up behind the man, his voice coming out in a rushed whisper. "He had your wife he took her, he took your kids from you! He took everything! He was coming for your job next, yes? Yes he was! It was only a matter of time, you know it, I know it, he knows it? Why are you stopping? Hit him! HIT HIM HIT HIM HIT HIM!" Inky's urging devolved into shrieks while he-a hunk of wood hurtled through Inky's face, penetrating his body and coming out the other end. The man had swung at him! At Inky! Inky's pretty pretty eyes opened wide while he took the man in, oh how brave! "Brave and stupid, stupid man, you can't hurt inky, Inky is Inky!" He snickered, taking a few steps back.
"B-but... how?" He asked, tears forming in his eyes. "W-why?" He begged.
Because he was hungry! What better reason! The tingle he got from watching other people make other people bleed made him feel full, strong. He needed more of it. All the time. As much as he could. He craved it. Needed it. Depended on it. Without it he would die, die, die. It was then that Inky realized he didn't hear the pig-man in the sock breathing anymore. He turned to the sack and jabbed it with a fingernail. Nothing. He lowered his hands and sighed. He would get nothing for having the man beat a corpse, as funny as that would be. Would he work like a pinata? Inky shook his head, collecting himself.
"W-what happened? H-he's dead isn't he? Oh god. Oh my god..." The man babbled, dropping the bat.
Inky turned on him, his smile splitting his head from ear to ear.
Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.
Inky (Deitr Aspland)
Desired Faction:
Villain
Desired Tier:
IV
Brief explanation of what your goals are:
Dear Inky will be a perpetual threat on the site, an agent of chaos and a source of disorder and disobedience. I wish to push the agenda that not all villains can be reasoned with and not all will play along with the big bad evil guy. He is not a joker character by any means, but instead will serve as an ever present shadow over the hearts of the people in the world. He will bring out the worst in people, intentionally, and revel in it. He may even choose to give himself over to one of the other villains as a temporary ally and weapon, as long as the possibility for his own amusement exists.
As a response to this, write a solo (of decent length ((your discretion))) that will show us this start-up in action!
Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Was it the clock, or the man in the sock? A sock, no, not a sock, but a sack heavy and coated with sweet coppery blood. The man hung from his ankles just like a little piggy inside his funny little sock. But who was it that made him bleed? Not I said Inky. Oh no, Inky was a good boy. Inky did his very best not to touch. Touching was bad, his mother told him so. It was not Inky, but it was the other man. He said they were friends, but then why was he swinging that bat so hard. Inky supposed rage made you do silly things.
CRACK! Another blow elicited a whine and a series of barely audible sobs. Oh he was still alive! What blessed fate! Inky could sing! The show would go on! He rolled onto his back and kicked his feet into the air, throwing his arms to the sides and basking in the tingling feeling that it all gave him. It made him feel...whole. The man holding the bat let out a choked sob of his own, the grip on his bat growing loose. Inky sat up, staring at the man's fingers like they were the most fascinating things in the world. Would he drop the bat? Could he drop the bat?
"Oh whatever is the matter friend of friends?" Inky asked, pushing off the small ledge and landing on his inky feet. Yes, Inky certainly did have feet, and hands too! Hands that he put behind his back while he stalked toward the man. Inky's voice sunk low, a warning in his tone; "Why did you stop? He hurt you didn't he?"
"B-but isn't this enough?" The man choked out, his face drenched in the sweat of his exertions. The muscle in his upper arm throbbed visibly and Inky had to stop to appreciate it. Even so, only his eyes moved when he returned his focus to the man's face.
"Enough?" He asked, what a silly question! What tomfoolery and goofiness! Inky stamped his foot and slid up behind the man, his voice coming out in a rushed whisper. "He had your wife he took her, he took your kids from you! He took everything! He was coming for your job next, yes? Yes he was! It was only a matter of time, you know it, I know it, he knows it? Why are you stopping? Hit him! HIT HIM HIT HIM HIT HIM!" Inky's urging devolved into shrieks while he-a hunk of wood hurtled through Inky's face, penetrating his body and coming out the other end. The man had swung at him! At Inky! Inky's pretty pretty eyes opened wide while he took the man in, oh how brave! "Brave and stupid, stupid man, you can't hurt inky, Inky is Inky!" He snickered, taking a few steps back.
"B-but... how?" He asked, tears forming in his eyes. "W-why?" He begged.
Because he was hungry! What better reason! The tingle he got from watching other people make other people bleed made him feel full, strong. He needed more of it. All the time. As much as he could. He craved it. Needed it. Depended on it. Without it he would die, die, die. It was then that Inky realized he didn't hear the pig-man in the sock breathing anymore. He turned to the sack and jabbed it with a fingernail. Nothing. He lowered his hands and sighed. He would get nothing for having the man beat a corpse, as funny as that would be. Would he work like a pinata? Inky shook his head, collecting himself.
"W-what happened? H-he's dead isn't he? Oh god. Oh my god..." The man babbled, dropping the bat.
Inky turned on him, his smile splitting his head from ear to ear.
Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.
