Sooo I don’t really have a major plot so far but I was thinking along the lines of fantasy/horror themes? I also was wanting to use a pansexual male character (does prefer other males over others just a bit more) of mine in an rp so this will definitely be LGBTQ+.
Guidelines:
- Rated R/MA for possible violence and gore, profanity, and sexual situations (will be taken to PM though).
- LGBTQ+ is accepted (even preferred for this!).
- Characters can have abilities/powers/be other races, but please try not to be too OP.
- Please be literate, can’t stress that enough! (Preferred sentence count is three. Two if fine I guess, but make the two sentences strong ones. No one liners though, they are hard to go off of).
Character Sheet:
Name:
Age:
Gender:
Preferred Pronouns:
Sexuality:
Race/Species:
Appearance:
Personality:
Strengths/Talents:
Weaknesses:
Background:
Other:
Name: Leon Agnes
Age: 22
Gender: Male
Preferred Pronouns: He/Him
Sexuality: Gay
Race/Species: Siren
Appearance: Black hair, with royal purple eyes, and freckles over cheeks and nose, slightly tan skin
Personality: Seems like a cold and unapproachable person, but after you meet him he's a really nice, and sarcastic person. He usually uses sarcasm as a defense when he's uncomfortable or anything like that.
Strengths/Talents: Singing, Fighting, Acting, and knowing when someone's lying.
Weaknesses: Pretty cold-hearted at first, pushes himself too hard, terrible at dealing with emotional people or feelings, will do anything for his loved ones/friends/family.
Background: Develop.
Other: I'm terrible at making characters and I have no life.
Name: Thatcher Wain.
Age: 928 years, but looks to be around 21-24.
Gender: Male.
Preferred Pronouns: He/Him/His.
Sexuality: Pansexual (prefers males), possibly polygamous.
Race/Species: Reaper (names appear on a sheet and those are the only people he can heal/kill. Can do something like teleportation by turning into a ‘murder’ of crows).
Appearance: https://www.pinterest.com/pin/617345061395939577/, toned/slender build/features, very tall (around 6’4), black tattoo of the silhouette of a scythe.
Personality: Ambiverted, independent, calm, proper, friendly (when not working), standoff-ish (when working), passionate, affectionate, romantic, generally quiet, almost seems to be emotionless.
Strengths/Talents: Manipulation, lying, observation, can speak multiple old languages.
Weaknesses: Showing his feelings, tends to look down on humans/other creatures, not good at keeping what he is a secret.
Background: Developing…
Other: When he was around 636 years old, he found a female three headed hound puppy, which he raised and named Nike.
(I can't see the picture of Thatcher)
(Okay, cool. So, should we start?)
(Sure, btw can you start? I'm terrible at starting)
(Yeah, I can)
Thatcher’s night was going to be a terrible one. It was at least midnight when a name to reap appeared on the slip of paper that he carried around with him. He had followed his senses, Nike’s large form following behind him. And where did he find himself? On a beach, staring out at the ocean. Whoever he was supposed to be reaping must be on a boat or swimming out in the water. He glanced down at the name on the paper. It was a males name- John Marc.
(Thx!)
Leon's day couldn't have gotten worse, but somehow it did. It was at least midnight when he was on the verge of passing out from not going in the ocean all day, even though he went swimming this morning. He finally gathered enough energy to go to the beach and ran into the water, his feet turning into a tail the moment he touched the water. He swam farther into the ocean and tried to find his friends if he was going to go into the ocean so he doesn't die, he's at least going to make sure he doesn't die from boredom.
Thatcher turned to Nike, giving a series of clicks that varied in pitch. One of Nike’s heads growled, while another made a few similar clicking noises. His lips pursed as he turned away and back towards the ocean. Of course he could understand the hounds language. He had been alive for centuries, so he had the time to do so. He sighed heavily, shrugging off his black trench coat so he was now in just his long sleeved button up, trousers, and dress shoes- everything black, just the way he liked it. After a moment of concentration, he had shifted into a ‘murder’ of crows, the birds flying over the water in search of the man he was to reap.
Leon was talking to his friends when he saw something dark pass over the waters. His lips pursed as he slowly swam towards the surface, only to find a 'murder' of crows. He slowly followed the 'murder' of crows, his black tail making him slightly stand out, since it was usually hard to find a group of crows at least for him it was hard.
The crows flew through the air, eventually spotting a decently sized boat and swooping down towards it. Before the birds landed, with a sweep of darkness, Thatcher was standing in their place. With a flick of his wrist, a tall scythe appeared in his hand. His eyes flicked around, not seeing anyone above deck at first.
He quietly watched as the crows turned into a man who was around his age, he swan closer to the boat and kept watching. He hid under the water while watching the man, making sure he wasn't seen. He didn't need his day to get worse than it already was.
Thatcher walked across the deck with the scythe, humming lowly as he did so. He could hear the faint sound of a voice, a man talking on a phone below deck. He headed below deck, surprisingly quiet despite how large his frame was. He came up behind the man, grabbing him by the back of his neck and throwing him f the ground with a surprising amount of force. “John Marc, your time has come for you to pass into the afterlife,” he said, adjusting his grip on the scythe.
“Please, whoever you are, don’t. I’ll give you whatever you want. I have a family, two daughters, please,” the man, John, pleaded desperately.
“I will send them my condolences,”he said simply, suddenly swinging the scythe and slicing the man open across his whole torso, blood splattering.
Leon swan closer to the boat when the man headed below deck. Hoping he could hear them, obviously, he was able to since he was a Siren and was slightly shocked by what he heard. He resisted the urge to turn into a human and yell at the man who killed someone, so he swims around the boat and started singing, his voice was clear and loud, trying to get the man's attention. I'm signing myself up for death, what am I even doing right now?
Thatcher had already finished with the man, calling the police to report a body. He frowned softly, hearing what almost sounded like singing. Was there someone else on the boat? He put the bloody scythe away, heading back up above deck. If there was someone there, he couldn’t kill them, not unless their name was in the list. He glanced around, hands loose by his sides.
Leon saw that the man was above deck and he swan closer to the boat so he couldn't be seen. He kept singing, still loud and clear, as he tried to swan farther away from the boat so he could see the man's features while making sure to stay close enough he isn't seen.
Thatcher ran a hand through his thick hair as he frowned. He walked around deck for a moment longer, but didn’t see anyone. He next leaned over the side of the deck, lips pursed as he squinted down into the water. He could still hear the singing, but he didn’t know where the source was coming from.
Leon kept singing as he decided to face the man. He quickly swan around the book to find him and saw him looking at an empty spot and went over, pretending he didn't see the man and kept singing. He looked at the man dead in the eyes and smiled at him, his dimples showing.
Thatcher saw movement in the water, and his light colored eyes widened a tad as he saw the man. No, that wasn’t just a man… He took a step away from the side of the boat jaw clenched tightly. If he could just touch the man, then he could learn a lot of things about him- His name, age, species, how soft his skin felt… Mind out of the gutter, he scolded himself.
Leon tilted his head slightly in confusion as he swam around the boat, trying to find a way to get on. After he found a way to get on, he let his tail dry so he could stand up and walk over to the man. He soon got his legs back and he stood up as he walked over to the man, a smile adorning his face which showed his dimples, "So, why did you kill the man? Why can you turn into a 'murder' of crows?"
