RE: The Grand OC SII: The Re-OCening: Week 16: DRACONIC!
03-15-2017, 04:24 AM
Username: Agen who should never judge again
Name: People know him as the Good Doctor. Accompanying him, Tragen the horse.
Species: Goast and goast horse
Gender: he/him, horse pronouns
Color: Old blood, old bandages
Description:The Good Doctor is an old man, wrapped almost entirely in tattered, bloody bandages. If asked, he will claim the wounds underneath come from a thousand cuts and burns. Given that he is usually incorporeal as well, no one has been able to confirm this. His nut-brown skin is wrinkled in ways that suggests extreme age, from a time even before the Greatest War that wiped out humanity. He wanders the wastelands, accompanied by Tragen, his equally ancient ghost draft horse. Occasionally, he will sing a haunting, tuneless, rhythmic song into the empty night.
Items/Abilities: Tragen pulls a low, leaden cart, laden with salvaged missile warheads. Every so often the Good Doctor will dig one from the ground, pointed end first. He handles them gingerly. On them are inscribed the sigil of a long-lost corporation, one the Doctor founded, one that backed the wrong side in the Greatest War. A corporation that eventually, in desperation, built frightful sonic weapons, missiles made all of metal and sound that soared over cities, smashing windows and skulls. And when finally the other side responded in kind, the argument tore the world apart...
Now he pulls their remains from the ground, hoping to atone, somehow, somehow. But there are no other ghosts. Perhaps his weapons sucked the very souls from their bodies in death.
Biography: The uniformed man raised the black warhead into the air, admiring the way it sucked in the light. "Andre, these will be the saviors of humanity. Thank you."
Andre nodded, and gestured modestly. "No, thank you, General. I always appreciated your having my back, all the way back to the hood. The company has never done better."
"On that note, Andre. Have you considered our proposal?"
Andre coughed. "Remind me? There's so much that goes past my desk..."
"The merger? With our corporate wing?"
"You mean the National Intelligence Corporation? Yes, the board liked the numbers a lot. We haven't made a final decision yet, but just from me to you, our chances are pretty damn good."
"Good, good." The general admired the warhead for another second, turning it in his hands, running his fingers over the amplifier grill on the flat end. Then, almost with a sigh, he put the warhead back in its foam case. A faint hiss of air sealed it into place.
"The head slots into the missile cone, amp out-"
"What are you going to call it?" He interrupted. "There's never been anything like this before."
"Not exactly," Andre said and smiled, "I did build something like this a long time ago, long before I started DreCo."
"Oh?"
"I wanted to refine sound. I wanted people to hear my music the way I wanted them to hear it, so I created the most refined sound systems. But it was a much smaller scale. The skull smashing came later, you get me?"
"You want to christen this after that?"
"Yeah. Beats, by Dr. Dre."
Name: People know him as the Good Doctor. Accompanying him, Tragen the horse.
Species: Goast and goast horse
Gender: he/him, horse pronouns
Color: Old blood, old bandages
Description:The Good Doctor is an old man, wrapped almost entirely in tattered, bloody bandages. If asked, he will claim the wounds underneath come from a thousand cuts and burns. Given that he is usually incorporeal as well, no one has been able to confirm this. His nut-brown skin is wrinkled in ways that suggests extreme age, from a time even before the Greatest War that wiped out humanity. He wanders the wastelands, accompanied by Tragen, his equally ancient ghost draft horse. Occasionally, he will sing a haunting, tuneless, rhythmic song into the empty night.
Items/Abilities: Tragen pulls a low, leaden cart, laden with salvaged missile warheads. Every so often the Good Doctor will dig one from the ground, pointed end first. He handles them gingerly. On them are inscribed the sigil of a long-lost corporation, one the Doctor founded, one that backed the wrong side in the Greatest War. A corporation that eventually, in desperation, built frightful sonic weapons, missiles made all of metal and sound that soared over cities, smashing windows and skulls. And when finally the other side responded in kind, the argument tore the world apart...
Now he pulls their remains from the ground, hoping to atone, somehow, somehow. But there are no other ghosts. Perhaps his weapons sucked the very souls from their bodies in death.
Biography: The uniformed man raised the black warhead into the air, admiring the way it sucked in the light. "Andre, these will be the saviors of humanity. Thank you."
Andre nodded, and gestured modestly. "No, thank you, General. I always appreciated your having my back, all the way back to the hood. The company has never done better."
"On that note, Andre. Have you considered our proposal?"
Andre coughed. "Remind me? There's so much that goes past my desk..."
"The merger? With our corporate wing?"
"You mean the National Intelligence Corporation? Yes, the board liked the numbers a lot. We haven't made a final decision yet, but just from me to you, our chances are pretty damn good."
"Good, good." The general admired the warhead for another second, turning it in his hands, running his fingers over the amplifier grill on the flat end. Then, almost with a sigh, he put the warhead back in its foam case. A faint hiss of air sealed it into place.
"The head slots into the missile cone, amp out-"
"What are you going to call it?" He interrupted. "There's never been anything like this before."
"Not exactly," Andre said and smiled, "I did build something like this a long time ago, long before I started DreCo."
"Oh?"
"I wanted to refine sound. I wanted people to hear my music the way I wanted them to hear it, so I created the most refined sound systems. But it was a much smaller scale. The skull smashing came later, you get me?"
"You want to christen this after that?"
"Yeah. Beats, by Dr. Dre."
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So very British / But then again | People are machines Machines are people | Oh hai there | There's no time
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Superhero 1920s noir | Multigenre Half-Life | Changing the future | Command line interface
Tu ventire felix? | Clockwork for eternity | Explosions in spacetime