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Peers over the crowd, his eyes lidded as he says. I am here as fate decrees. Fate escapes no living being. I am here, fated to win this day... He peers over the crowd and the other gladiators. "And many here are fated to die. He says, while swinging his scythe, pointing it over the crowd, twirling it around before sitting it back onto his back. "If I am an angel...Then I'm the Angel of Death"
When the attacker approaches, he gives a deep growl, glaring at the offender. "I suggest you back off. The fights have not begun. They can wait until then." He says, cracking his knuckles loudly, and lays one hand on his scythe ready to grab it if needed.
Frowns at the 'angelic' armor, peering at it. "We have to wear this? He says, but then sighs in resignation, and begins putting the armor on. It looks...Odd on him. Angelic armor on a hulking half-orc. Celestial helmet laying over a skull tattoed head looks a little silly. He shakes his head, grumbling to himself as he looks at himself in the mirror. "I look about as good as a pit fiend in this armor..."
Sorry about my lack of posts during the weekend. Barely at the computer during the weekend due to 2-3(Depending on the weekend) RL tabletop games. I'll post at the next best opportune time. Death is still here! :)
Very interesting dynamic group we got, including the quite Neutral(Chaotic but yeah) barbarian here. I'm looking forward to see how this works out. :D
His nares flare when he see's the vial, and growls, actually raging, his body bulging underneath. After a bit, he stops moving, trembling with impotent rage, though the actual rage has ended. "Someone will pay for this..."
Gives a heavy sigh, eying the bowl hard enough to shatter if it possible. "If I must..." He says, before drinking the offered liquid.
Jhock glares at the pitiful shackles, but shrugs his shoulders under his robes. He looks around at the others, examining them all, sizing them up, including any guards or priests that are left in the same room with them. The flying doesn't seem to bother the half-orc, his eyes closed as he relaxes. "The Living God, Razmir He snorts, and murmurs a prayer "All who live must face her judgment."
The half-orc moves up towards the stage upon hearing his name, not looking the least bit suprised of his name being called, like he expected to this happen, like it was fated to happen. The crowd quiets as he moves past them, eyes wide like they are staring at death itself. He is death, death for those who defy their own fate. He gets up on stage, quiet, his large, very well kept scythe strapped to his back. "Fate comes for all...Even to the gods themselves." He says, to nobody specific.
Snorts as he watches the event on the stage, shaking his head. If a god, such a pitiful childish one. His fate will come to him. He just stands there, arms crossed, his hood up to somewhat hide his skull.
The Half-Orc has spent the last month almost purely in the Temple of Pharasma. Usually, a hulking barbarian in a temple like this would normally cause some tension, but not this. A strong follower of the Goddess of Death and Fate, Jhock prays during this time, not for help during the upcoming challenges, but for the souls he'll be sending to his Lady of Death, including his own. When the huge ship blots out the sky and causes commotions outside, he stands, and walks out of the church. "So the time has come my lady." He simply says, before walking away from the church, with a few of the priests blessing him in his goals. He heads to the town square, and awaits for what is to come.
Vote for Ariella as well. Doubt people would like to follow Death. :P
Reason he is here:: You may think his whole 'persona' of being the reaper is just an act. Nobody is not sure. He just showed up in the area, and volunteered himself for the fights. Nobody argued with the dangerous looking orc with a scythe.
Gotcha, will get that done...Hmm...Face or heel. Hard choice there. Will have to think on that for a bit before deciding that. *ponders*
HP Rolls: In this corner, stands at 6'2", 214 pounds, the minion of Pharasma, Jhock, The Reaper! Clothed in a solid black robe, with obvious metal, dyed also to black, stands the fearsome, hulking half-orc, his face entirely tattooed with an image of a skull, seen under the hood of the robe "Lady Death has send me here to fetch lost souls...Souls who've have attempted to escape their fate. Nobody escapes the fate she has sentenced them..." He says, laying his scythe over his shoulders.
I have a lovely Barbarian of Pharasma that would fit really well here. Will just need to update him to the character creation rules as per DM. :)
Jhock grunts as he's spiked again, growling a little under his breath, and backs away from the ship, then pulls out a potion, getting ready to drink it.
Very much enjoying this fight! Pretty epic. Semi regret giving up uncanny dodge and improved uncanny dodge. :p DM: Just one thing. Not seeing a confirmation roll for the crit. Am I missing it?
Jhock looks around, trying to see said manticore, his hands squeezing the shaft of his Scythe.
He yells back at Crugonk. "Don't see it!" He then waits, his eyes glaring at the flaming ship, as if it's giving off a wave of ill fate to come, perhaps.
Blinks as the ship...falls! What in the lady's graveyard!?" This fight is getting interesting, and on fire! But he ignores the flames, seeing the one spotted lion nearby, and he believes in his reach with his much higher height and greater reach, and whips his scythe around, slashing at the feline as it crawls out from under the wreckage.
Licks his lips, tasting lion blood on them as he grins. "Another one down." He says, as the lion before him and the humanoid feline drops. He then turns, beginning to head towards Crugonk, but then see's more lion ontop of the ruins, able to see them due his higher then normal sight, and turns to charge towards them, scythe raised high.
Hearing humanoid cries of pain, he takes a quick look around, looking for anything dangerous nearby, minus the lion in front of him, which doesn't seem that much of a danger as its paws either miss or ding off his armor. Seeing the lion before him, alive but not for long. He grins. Be reaped! and lifts his scythe in the air and brings it down powerfully onto the lion. [ooc]perception:
Jhock, already covered in blood from two lions, notices the other lion either dead, or about to be, he turns, frowning a little as he see's both the lion coming from the south, and that he can't charge down to it. He then moves down, around the other non-target felines, to get in range of the front lion, and says in a dark, low voice. You're next to meet you're fate!" And with that, his scythe lashes viciously out again!
AoO: The Reaper, that's who he is when the fight begins, and as the lion approaches, he uses the back-swing of decapitating the first lion to slice at the next approaching beast.
See's a reachable target for his fury, taking a step up next to Yark, lifting his Scythe up, and gives a powerful blow to the lion attacking Twang, the blade slicing through the air, a thin whistle pierces the air, if it's able to be heard to those nearby. "You're fate has arrive beast!" After his attack strikes, he looks at Twang and Yark. This be good place to funnel them through if we want."
Charges on ahead, moving down again to keep up with Mandra, but moving past her a little, pausing for a moment, roaring out a challenge. "COME MEET YOUR FATE!" The large barbarian then keeps moving, ready for any approaching enemies, swinging his scythe around, slicing through the air.
[b]Now it's time![b] He says, grinning, downing his potion of Enlarge person, sprinting as he grows in size, his eyes darting about from under his cowl, keeping an eye out for any targets, his scythe at the ready, tho not yet raging, waiting for a target to release it upon.
Slides his Scythe out, squeezing the shaft as the time approaches. "Sounds good plan." He grins, taking a look at the map. "Just tell me where you want me, and I'll follow. I'm ready to send a few kittin souls to my Lady Death." He says, nodding, waiting for any response, before moving off to the side, taking a few minutes, head bowed as he murmurs a prayer to Pharasma, his Lady Death.
Jhock listens well, but quietly, going through the practice matches over the few days pretty well. When he looks at the map, and hears what they'll be fighting, he gives a light sigh, but nods. Yes, sticking together would be best. Surrounded isn't good." He cocks his head, pondering for a moment. How many in a pride?"
Standing up, Jhock stretches, a few loud pops coming from his neck as he rolls it around. Mmm...I prefer this team. It seems good, and from what I've seen, well led. I know nothing of the other teams other then what you've just mentioned."
Finally John finishes sharpening his blade, and stands, walking over to the racks of clothing. Hmmm.... After a bit he finds what he's looking for, loose black robes. He puts it on, lifting the hood. This will do. he grunts.
Jhock sits in one of the chairs, his Scythe laying over his knee's, slowly running a sharpening stone down it's long sharp blade, just watching the proceedings of his team mates.
Ponders the questions of the interview carefully. Signature move? He swings his scythe, Barrly missing the interviewer, and hits a practice dummy nearby, decapitating it. Soul Reaver. It sends the lucky one to lady death for their judgement. He snorts. Hobby? One in the service of Pharasma, Lady death, has no time for hobbies when your gathering wayward souls who try and avoid their fate! he grins toothily. I am worthy to be here as per my gods orders. Everyone here will meet their fate! Including you... he points at the interviewer, still grinning.
Jhock looks at the few contenders already forming. "Me think so far, if we are team, we smash things hard and fast, more shooty types be good for annoying flying pests. Now against each other..." Peers at each one, sizing everyone up. [/b]...We see who be seeing Lady Death first."[/b]
Jhock grunts, tossing the 'extra' longbow he had aside. "No need to puny bow. I got bigger bow!" Hefts his composite longbow.
The skull faced half-orc looks at Yark, snorting a little as he shrugs his shoulders. "We be both judged fairly under the eye of Lady Death. No matter what kind of blood we spill." |