Hopefully the DM didn't die.
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Happy Holidays, Rdy whenever.
Diablo just lounges in his bed, not having much rest from the prior night. He closes his eyes but can still hear the war-room talk. His eyes pop open and he sits up. “You know what I’m gonna do? I’m gonna be an angel and not kill anyone, heh. Yea, I’m gonna go in there, those clowns gonna come at me with gusto, and I’m gonna knock their asses out cold.” “Cuz if you think about it, chances are just about everyone on our team and the ones we gonna fight pretty much hate that steel-faced wanna-be tyrant. The enemy of our enemy could be our friend. United we conquer, divided we fall. And that’s Razzy’s little plan. Keep our nations divided by making us kill each other.” “I come from Cheliax, the Capital of Tyranny. And I’ll let yall in on a little secret…” “Tyrants rule out of fear cuz they themselves live in fear. Fear. That’s what it’s all about, man. And no one knows it more than me.” Diablo lights up a smoke. “The way I reckon…I don’t remember signing on any dotted line. Someone plucked me out of my cell and signed me up for this. So I’m gonna go in there. Give the crowd a show, win ‘em over. And watch Razzy eye’s quiver in fear when he tries to make a martyr out of me. Heh, why do ya think he wears a mask?” “I don't care what yall do tomorrow. But I know what I’m doin.’ I’m gonna razzle and dazzle and give Razzy somethin’ to hide from. And when I’m through, ole Razzy’s gonna need a bigger mask.” Diablo reclines back on his bed. “I don’t about you guys, but if I’m gonna die for a god, he better be the real deal.” “And I’m takin’ the highway to hell, baby! WOOO! Where the gods got hornies and the chicks got titties!”
Diablo almost gets an orgasm off on Genevia screams. However, seeing masks priests heading towards Azrael (for reasons unknown to him) Diablo will terrorize more people so they scatter in the direction and impede movement of the incoming priests (hopefully knocking some down and trampling them for good measure :P). It comes off as part of his act, an effortless bluff.
Diablo stands off in the back watching the other city tributes parade. “So, these are the clowns we gotta kill or they kill us huh? Is that how it works?” He looks on at Garris, his arms dripping with blood. “Awww, hell, could’ve used those for my wings..." Diablo looks at his wings, not content. “Somethin' still missin’ with this picture. Gonna need some more pizzazz. Maybe some flare!” With that, Diablo grabs a torch, spills some oil on his wings and armor, and sets himself on fire. FOOOSH! ”Oh yea! Baby! That’s what I’m takin’ about!”
“It’s showtime!” His entrance music ULTIMATUM plays. Diablo reaches up with both hands clawed towards the heavens, then streaks down the isle. His BURNING ANGEL WINGS trailing a blaze of fire. With a booming diabolic voice, he bellows out to the nobles (potential sponsors): “Order your fine horses now!”
Diablo bares his fangs and glares about with his fiendish glowing red eyes, SCREAMS like a Nazgul, spooking the crowd on the sidelines attempting to scatter people.
He watches the commoners scatter in terror and laughs in delight as people scream and trample each other making a wide berth. By the time he reaches Razmir and his court, his wings have burned out. Diablo takes a handful of ashes in his hands. He blows Razmir a kiss of ashes, then takes a bow. An evil fanged grin can barely be seen through the shadow cast over his face as he hangs his head low.
Yep, Hunger Games for certain. The more flair, the more sponsors we garner. Hey DM, do we get chariots? And do we get interviewed as well by an MC?
"Whaaa? Lose the wings!? Hell, you know how much blood I lost painting these wings?!" "This is a good prison if you askin' me. Back at my old place, they don't got enrichment programs like arts and crafts."
From previous night:
The mask attaches to his face and a voice whispers in his head. Diablo responds out loud. ”Oh my…What a tempting offer. I want drow ass! Hmm wait, no, I can get that on my own….Hmmm (thinks) Ahhh, I want drow and noble ass! No, wait. That’s too shallow. Shame on me. Ahhh. Ah! I want a nice expensive nightmare steed! No wait. Hmmm. (thinks) I want a nice big mansion! (rethinks) No, that’s not it. I can go bigger than that. Hmmm. Oh! Oh! (bouncing up and down and fluttering his arm gleefully and puts his pinky to his chin) I want…FIVE…MILLION…GOLD! (sulks and rethinks) Hmmm, no, if I’m the King of Cheliax I can get that. Ooh! Or better yet what if I was archdevil of my own layer of hell! Crap! I can’t decide!” Diablo calls out to his compatriots in the room, some trying to get some sleep. “Hey guys! I found a MAGIC MAKE-A-WISH-MASK! Help me out! I’m out of ideas!” Diablo will continue to bug and pester everyone all night, keeping people awake and offer them the mask so they can make a wish.
"Good morning everybody! So everyone got a good rest?!" Diablo digs into the costume box and takes out a pair of fake angel wings. Looks over it. “Hmmm. Needs more color.” He slits his wrist (takes 1 pt of CON damage). Blood gushes out and he begins to spray-paint with his own blood, transforming the wings into a blood-drenched perversion of fallen angel wings. He attaches it to the pauldrons of his ornate fiendish motif hellknight armor. “Okay, I’m done.”
As everyone in the room introduces themselves, Diablo plays along. "My name is El Angelos Rojos. I'm twenty-fours years old. I worked in law enforcement...and...and...(voice mockingly straining) and...I'm an addict." Diablo sniffles and stands straight, looking proud as if confessing at a AA meeting. Later... Diablo observes her Ghilanna trying to sneak out with curiosity. He grins. "Ah mystery and subtlety huh? Alright, we'll play it your way." The tiefling tries to sneak out with her, but encounters a golem impasse. "Hmmm. This might pose a problem," says Diablo stroking his goatee, thinking. "Hey thing-with-the-mask or whatever-the-fekk-you-are, any chance the lady and I can go sneak out for a quickie? We'll be back. Promise. Ummm...You have my angelic word on it." Diablo gives the golem an innocent smile.
"I am called the Mantis. You may refer to me as such." "Mantis? Hey is it true that a female mantis bite off the male's head when they mate? Because it would really suck being you." Diablo goes over to the table and gorges down some food. He listens to Ariella making conversation with the drow. "Hey Cap, who cares why she's here! If you wanna get down on some hot lesbo action, just cut the formalities and get to the point like this!" Calls out to the drow. "Hey Elf, let's be bunkmates because I want to do these things with you." "XXXXXXXXXXcensored - too vulgar and explicit to postXXXXXXXXXXXX"
After rambling off his list, Diablo grins. He turns to Ariella. "Oh by the way, you can join us."
Upon hearing the angel-themed suggestion, Diablo belts out: "HEY! Hey! That's no fair! I'm already an angel. That's not enough of a role-playing challenge!" Diablo bends over. "I even have a big brown halo to prove it!"
Diablo gropes and grasps for the vial.
Will Save (Whew!) He stops. "Not!" "Hey Miss Lockhart, nice hat by the way. Diablo grabs his crotch and pretends to be all giddy and genteel-like. "Can I interest you in some Diablo Tears? Hooohooohooo! A gift from the undergods. Mana from hells. Treat me well and there will be lots to go with your makeup. Heard it's good for the skin, hehe."
So how was the experience? Relishing good ain't it? You will be slaves to this until we decide otherwise infidels! Pick yourself up for we have reach the Thronestep, home of the Living God. Diablo tastes his palate. His eyes glazed over in a state of euphoria. "Yea...I don't think those were Razmir's tears. You can get pregnant on this stuff."
Diablo laughs watching the spectacle. "Ooooooooh. Now that's what I call - busting a nut!"
Diablo looks entertained watching Ariella. "Wow. Looks like them noble women are quite experienced at swallowing! Don't forget the gag reflexes, hehehe" Diablo looks over to Lanusha. "Hey Lanusha, don't forget to give her the 15th step - a pearl necklace while ya at it." As a priest comes near him with the vial, he flicks his tongue at the priest in a cunningulus gesture. He drinks the vial and begins to take his time gargling and blowing bubbles. "Hey priest! Stroke my throat!" In a spectacle, he tilts his head up and begins to regurgitate the liquid like a squirting fountain and swallow. He looks around the room. "Who wants to swap?!"
Diablo laughs some more at her quip, his low resounding chuckle harmonizing with her light feminine laugh. He takes a gander to the others. So serious! He looks back at the elf and studies her. She looks bored. "Hey Elf, don't be so sad. I'm gonna win this thing so I can request you as my cell mate. Then I can show you mine if you show me yours, hehehe. And don't worry about comfort..." With a quick snap of his neck, Diablo whips his visor upwards, revealing... A very human visage. Red scaly skin, deep set pupil-less eyes with the infernal glow of a blood ruby and a maw full with overgrown canines. "Once you go 'Red'...you won't need the bed." His maw curls into a grin.
From shackles to shackles. Nothing new. Diablo listens to the drow ramble about her "accomodations" and snickers. "Hey Elf! Too bad I'm not next ta ya. I'll show ya some artistry, hehehe." He makes thrusting motions with his hips.
Upon hearing the first part of his name, Diablo has already taken the first step. He lumbers to the front in his ornate hellknight armor. CLANK. CLANK. CLANK. Stops to scare a kid. "BOO!" Intimidate Continues on. CLANK. CLANK. CLANK. Takes his place by Omega. Stands stoic and says nothing. Only his glowing red eyes betray his thoughts - gleeful antipication to kick some asses and take names.
Donned in his new prison, Diablo arrives in town square just in time to see the altercation. His red eyes peer through the faceplate, entertained as Aerin and his wife are dispatched by omega gold-mask. He snickers. "These Razmiran shure know how to put on a good pre-show entertainment! Hah!"
The RUMBLING of the airship outside… Chips of loose stone crumble from the ceiling of a stark cell. Strobes of sun-light streak through the bars of a cell window revealing… A RED-SCALED TIEFLING brooding in the corner. His red eyes follow a falling chip as it impacts on the floor. He glances up at the tiny window and then back forward. A deadpan stare. Two guards approach his cell. One of them fiddles with the lock with a set of keys. The cell door CLANGS open. “Out,” he motions. The tiefling takes his time standing up. He trudges forward slowly emerging from the shadows. His sense of balance not impeded by the shackles around his wrists and ankles. He trudges out into A ROOM with several attendants. In the center of it, on a stand, a full set of hellknight armor ornately decorated - the one he would’ve proudly worn had he exercised a bit more discretion in a prior life. “Front and center, slave!” The guard nudges him forward, while the other closes the door behind them. As the tiefling steps front and center, two attendants remove his shackles. A MYSTERIOUS FIGURE suddenly appears on the veranda overlooking the ground floor. He speaks in a commanding voice. “They say a man never really knows himself…"
“I wonder. How well do you know yourself?” “Egorian convict 666:" "Murderer."
Each attendant begin to take a piece of armor from the rack and step off to the sides. “But as you soon will learn…Even freedom has its price.” A wave of his hand and the attendants begin to assemble the Hellknight armor around the tiefling piece by piece. Leather/chainmail sublayer. Breastplate. Hipguards. Gauntlets. Vambraces. Spiked Pauldrons. As the final piece is secured, the attendants step away. “You can carry your prison with you in the Immortal Games. Your former trappings will be your new cell in the arena.” “Make no mistake. War is coming. With all it’s glory and all it’s horror.” “Hellknight Diablo, your freedom awaits.” An evil smile creaks across the tiefling’s face as he growls: “By the Nine Hells...It’s about time.” He slams down his visor. Red eyes gleam through the faceplate, as... The double doors into the colliseum fly open.
The new Ariella is ideal. Probably has the straightest head of the bunch. Definitely, not me, an ex-con serving out a sentence.
Updated background. Less comprehensive than my last character.
I have a suggestion how to rectify the severing feat regarding weapon types (B/S/P). Just change the maneuver name based on weapon type.
Unarmed Strike - the effects can vary. But one way I can see a dismembering effect is simply the person grabbing and ripping off someone's limb (like in Twilight - not a good example but you get the idea).
In the spirit of the campaign, I decided to uphold the theme and play a character with mostly gladiator levels. All of you from the last campaign will recognize his concept similiar to Lucifer. All he is missing is his cadre of Hamatulatsu-styled "devil-nuns." ******************************************************************
Appearance Think Chaos Warrior from Warhammer. Diablo dons an ornate set of crimson red hellknight armor with fiendish motifs. Glowing red eyes peer through the faceplate of the horned helm that resembles the monstrous head of a fiend. His favorite weapon is a heavy mace, the favored weapon of Asmodeus and Dispater. Backstory Originally from Egorian, Cheliax, Diablo was a former hellknight who was excommunicated from his order for his twisted unorthodox methods. Having lost his purpose in Cheliax, the dishonored ex-hellknight committed himself to being a career gladiator in the Immortal Games where he can reap the self-indulging awards of winning and causing terror. As part of his intiation, he was thrown into a battle royale match as the "heel" to foment drama and make things interesting. Character crunch sent and linked in profile. |