Re: Vendetta [S! GAME TWO ~ SIGN UPS!!!]
01-02-2012, 07:31 AM
Originally posted on MSPA by Flummox.
Username: Flummox
Name: Felgurd
Gender: Neither, but it wears a men's suit, so we can use masculine pronouns.
Race: Mask
Color: [color=#99z8rz]This, #99z8rz[/color]
Description:
Items/Abilities:
Biography:
Writing Sample:
Username: Flummox
Name: Felgurd
Gender: Neither, but it wears a men's suit, so we can use masculine pronouns.
Race: Mask
Color: [color=#99z8rz]This, #99z8rz[/color]
Description:
Show Content
SpoilerFelgurd is a mask. But you wouldn't be able to tell that from a distance.
You would see a gaunt, almost ten-foot tall man in a suit jacket and slacks that are a little small on him, wearing a loosely tied red necktie.
If you observed him for a while you might notice that his walk is quite awkward and clumsy, almost as if he doesn't have any knees. Which, he doesn't. But we'll get to that later.
Felgurd wears a wide-brimmed hat to cast shadows over his face so no one can tell he doesn't actually have a face. Now obviously this doesn't work all the time, so he tries to hide his face whenever possible, with his hands or simply facing the wall.
The mask itself is a slightly off-white, plaster-like cast of a human face with a single, circular, central eye. Most of the detailed features seem rubbed out -- the nose is close to nonexistent and the mouth is almost a gash in the otherwise unbroken skin. Black marks form a sort of spiraling pattern across the entirety of the mask.
Felgurd's humanoid body is composed of severed human hands. Every time he takes a life, he steals their hands and makes himself a bit taller. Each hand is linked at the wrist to another hand, and grips another hand, which is how he holds himself together.
His consciousness is centered in the mask, however, and the only way he can control his hands is if they are linked to another hand which is linked to yet another hand and thus creates a channel for his mind to connect to it.
He can remotely control one or two hands at a time, but holding himself together takes most of his intellectual willpower and thus when he is doing this, he is even more vulnerable to falling apart than he usually is.
He speaks in a deep, grating voice that seems to come from deep behind the mask.
Picture by Pharmacy:
Picture by Flummox:
You would see a gaunt, almost ten-foot tall man in a suit jacket and slacks that are a little small on him, wearing a loosely tied red necktie.
If you observed him for a while you might notice that his walk is quite awkward and clumsy, almost as if he doesn't have any knees. Which, he doesn't. But we'll get to that later.
Felgurd wears a wide-brimmed hat to cast shadows over his face so no one can tell he doesn't actually have a face. Now obviously this doesn't work all the time, so he tries to hide his face whenever possible, with his hands or simply facing the wall.
The mask itself is a slightly off-white, plaster-like cast of a human face with a single, circular, central eye. Most of the detailed features seem rubbed out -- the nose is close to nonexistent and the mouth is almost a gash in the otherwise unbroken skin. Black marks form a sort of spiraling pattern across the entirety of the mask.
Felgurd's humanoid body is composed of severed human hands. Every time he takes a life, he steals their hands and makes himself a bit taller. Each hand is linked at the wrist to another hand, and grips another hand, which is how he holds himself together.
His consciousness is centered in the mask, however, and the only way he can control his hands is if they are linked to another hand which is linked to yet another hand and thus creates a channel for his mind to connect to it.
He can remotely control one or two hands at a time, but holding himself together takes most of his intellectual willpower and thus when he is doing this, he is even more vulnerable to falling apart than he usually is.
He speaks in a deep, grating voice that seems to come from deep behind the mask.
Picture by Pharmacy:
Show Content
Spoiler![[Image: 909031084]](https://www.zimg.eu/i/909031084)
Show Content
Spoiler![[Image: 2986968872]](https://www.zimg.eu/i/2986968872)
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SpoilerApart from being a tall man made of severed hands, Felgurd possesses incredible strength.
He feels pain, but it does not affect his ability to make clear and rational decisions.
Since he has no bodily functions to speak of, and his consciousness is stored within his mask, it follows that the only way to kill him is to destroy the mask.
He is fond of bludgeoning people to death with various blunt objects he finds around. He tries as hard as possible not to damage people’s hands while he is killing them; it only makes him weaker in the long term.
Since he is in individual control of each hand, he can shapeshift accordingly. But since he has a suit, he usually assumes a form that it fits on. Occasionally he steals clothes so he can take other shapes.
He feels pain, but it does not affect his ability to make clear and rational decisions.
Since he has no bodily functions to speak of, and his consciousness is stored within his mask, it follows that the only way to kill him is to destroy the mask.
He is fond of bludgeoning people to death with various blunt objects he finds around. He tries as hard as possible not to damage people’s hands while he is killing them; it only makes him weaker in the long term.
Since he is in individual control of each hand, he can shapeshift accordingly. But since he has a suit, he usually assumes a form that it fits on. Occasionally he steals clothes so he can take other shapes.
Show Content
SpoilerFelgurd has lost his purpose. He originally had a partner, Tolgurd. They were created by a god in the final moments of its universe for a purpose only it knew. Just seconds before the dimension winked out of existence, the god pushed Felgurd and Tolgurd through a dimensional portal into our own universe.
They spend the next few centuries wandering throughout the galaxy, both having silicon-based gel bodies, searching for their purpose. Eventually they found Earth. Being the only planet with the capability to sustain life, Felgurd convinced Tolgurd that their purpose must be somewhere on Earth, somewhere among the humans and the animals.
Entering the atmosphere was a painful and difficult process. The heat burnt through their bodies and gave Felgurd the black burn marks across his mask. Tolgurd’s injuries were worse – nearly his entire face was scorched.
Felgurd landed in Russia and was the cause of the famous Tunguska Explosion. Tolgurd landed in the ocean on nearly the other side of the planet. The resulting splash was noticed by a nearby ship captain, but was never reported. Tolgurd wandered the ocean floor, Felgurd wandered the Siberian tundra.They spent nearly another century searching the planet for each other, becoming increasingly desperate with the passing of every year.
Eventually, nine and a half years later, they met at a bridge in the Aleutian Islands, each having put together a makeshift body of various things tied together or attached in miscellaneous ways.
However, seeing two massive and incredibly clumsy people rush at each other can be fairly disconcerting, and the police were called. Confused and frightened, Felgurd and Tolgurd lashed back at the cops and killed a fair few. Tolgurd was shot through the mask in the resulting firefight, and a freak accident happened when a patrol car was thrown against a house; the car snapped a natural gas pipe which ignited because of the incredible friction. Both Felgurd and Tolgurd were lit on fire by the explosion, and Felgurd stumbled off the bridge into the frigid waters below, luckily putting out the fire. Tolgurd was not so lucky. Felgurd later returned to find the charred remains of Tolgurd’s mask. He was dead. Utterly distraught, Felgurd went on a rampage through the city.
Imagine his position. He doesn’t know why he was created, but he was created as a pair. And half the pair is gone. Half of himself is dead. Worse yet, he blames himself for Tolgurd’s death. If he hadn’t fallen off the bridge and been there to help Tolgurd. If he had found him sooner, someplace else. If he hadn’t decided to come to Earth. Simply put, he went insane from the guilt.
His body, soggy from the river and charred from the fire, was discarded. He began to put together his new body, piece by piece. He is now a psychotic madman wandering the city streets, looking for some meaning to his life. He doesn’t know his purpose, and he might never know. So he goes around and finds people. People to follow. People to kill, their hands to steal. People to ask, “Do you know my purpose?”
They spend the next few centuries wandering throughout the galaxy, both having silicon-based gel bodies, searching for their purpose. Eventually they found Earth. Being the only planet with the capability to sustain life, Felgurd convinced Tolgurd that their purpose must be somewhere on Earth, somewhere among the humans and the animals.
Entering the atmosphere was a painful and difficult process. The heat burnt through their bodies and gave Felgurd the black burn marks across his mask. Tolgurd’s injuries were worse – nearly his entire face was scorched.
Felgurd landed in Russia and was the cause of the famous Tunguska Explosion. Tolgurd landed in the ocean on nearly the other side of the planet. The resulting splash was noticed by a nearby ship captain, but was never reported. Tolgurd wandered the ocean floor, Felgurd wandered the Siberian tundra.They spent nearly another century searching the planet for each other, becoming increasingly desperate with the passing of every year.
Eventually, nine and a half years later, they met at a bridge in the Aleutian Islands, each having put together a makeshift body of various things tied together or attached in miscellaneous ways.
However, seeing two massive and incredibly clumsy people rush at each other can be fairly disconcerting, and the police were called. Confused and frightened, Felgurd and Tolgurd lashed back at the cops and killed a fair few. Tolgurd was shot through the mask in the resulting firefight, and a freak accident happened when a patrol car was thrown against a house; the car snapped a natural gas pipe which ignited because of the incredible friction. Both Felgurd and Tolgurd were lit on fire by the explosion, and Felgurd stumbled off the bridge into the frigid waters below, luckily putting out the fire. Tolgurd was not so lucky. Felgurd later returned to find the charred remains of Tolgurd’s mask. He was dead. Utterly distraught, Felgurd went on a rampage through the city.
Imagine his position. He doesn’t know why he was created, but he was created as a pair. And half the pair is gone. Half of himself is dead. Worse yet, he blames himself for Tolgurd’s death. If he hadn’t fallen off the bridge and been there to help Tolgurd. If he had found him sooner, someplace else. If he hadn’t decided to come to Earth. Simply put, he went insane from the guilt.
His body, soggy from the river and charred from the fire, was discarded. He began to put together his new body, piece by piece. He is now a psychotic madman wandering the city streets, looking for some meaning to his life. He doesn’t know his purpose, and he might never know. So he goes around and finds people. People to follow. People to kill, their hands to steal. People to ask, “Do you know my purpose?”
Show Content
SpoilerIt was a sunny day.
Days like these have their bonuses and their downsides.
On the plus side, people let their guard down. Sunshine has that effect on the human psyche; it makes them cheerful, unsuspecting. It’s hot out. People open their doors and their windows. Easier to get in, easier to get out.
On the bad side, there aren’t as many shadows to sneak into. Not as many places to hide. Things are more visible – and that’s partly the reason why people aren’t as afraid.
Felgurd pressed himself to the wall of the alley, folded into a crouching pose as the fabric of his shirt stretched tightly across his stolen skin.
He searched the crowd moving past the entrance to the alley. Feet tramped, heads nodded, arms swung. The elderly aren’t any good; their hands are old, weak, and brittle. Children’s hands are too small to grasp anything. No, what he is looking for is one in their prime, their late twenties or early thirties. That’s why he came here, to the busy Chicago streets, where the young and old stay home and let the more fit specimens walk the roads.
There. A young woman, maybe twenty-nine, dressed sharply in a grey suit jacket. She walked briskly, her briefcase swinging by her side.
Felgurd unfolded himself to his full height, about ten feet, and stretched his long arms across the wall, towards the roof. He grabbed hold of a gutter and the exposed hands of his body searched the surface of the wall for cracks to use as handholds. Hauling himself onto the roof of the building, he perched on the tiled edge of the roof and spotted his quarry walking quickly, weaving through the crowd. She will not be let out of his vision.
He reached out and grasped the next roof over, did a back flip only performable for someone without a spine, and landed on the roof with his feet (which were also hands). Performing this same maneuver each time he moved from house to house, he tracked his victim through the Chicago back alleys and side streets to a small, but well-to-do, apartment building.
The woman stepped through the threshold, her actions confident, her manner self-assured. The elevator doors slid open, and she stepped through, pulling a key from her purse while she walked. The elevator closed, the quarry disappeared. But hope was not lost.
Felgurd looked around the street. No one was in sight. He slipped down the side of the building and slunk over to the apartment. Hands scrabbled across the cracked concrete, again seeking handholds. Like a spider Felgurd crawled over the walls of the apartment, peering through windows, making sure not to be caught.
He found his victim on the fifth floor, a neat and organized room, with a desk in one corner and a bed in the other. She seemed to be writing something frantically, the details of which did not concern or interest Felgurd in the least. He waited patiently, very patiently, for her to leave the room. He had to block off the doorway or else she could escape and notify the authorities, which is something he wished to avoid.
Eventually she went off to another room, assumedly the bathroom, and Felgurd slipped one of his more slender hands under the window and unlatched it. Creeping slowly inside, his boneless body making it near effortless, he contorted himself into various shapes until he stood, his head stooped, inside the room.
He moved to stand in front of the bathroom door, and could hear the faint sound of water running. She was probably taking a shower. Years of experience among humans had taught Felgurd about their habits and their hygiene. He knew what they liked to do around certain times, and what certain sights and sounds and smells meant.
Detaching one of his hands from his body, deciding to control it remotely, he moved it through the crack under the door, then crawling upwards, blindly, but feeling, feeling – ah! The hand found the doorknob, and with a swift motion, unlocked the door. A clicking sound could be heard; it was faint, but all Felgurd could do was hope that the sound of the running water had drowned out the noise.
Felgurd turned the doorknob. Slowly, so it made no noise. Slowly… no. There was no escape for her now. No need to be secretive.
Felgurd threw open the door so violently it hit the wall behind and made a loud cracking noise. Felgurd burst into the room and tore the shower curtain off its rod. A misplaced foot shattered the toilet, spraying water from broken pipes. The woman stood there, her mouth open like sound should be coming out, but none was. Water leaked from the broken toilet and the running shower spewed it over the wall.
Felgurd grabbed her by the shoulders.
“What is my purpose?!” he said, in a low voice like the sound of two cinder blocks grating against each other.
The woman began gibbering, utter nonsense. She didn’t know.
“Why do I exist??!!”
More gibbering. Felgurd threw her against the wall, hard. Her skull cracked, blood stained the wall, swirling red in the growing pool of water. Her hands were his. Not hers anymore, only his. The hands became part of him, joined the crowd.
Felgurd crawled out the way he came.
Days like these have their bonuses and their downsides.
On the plus side, people let their guard down. Sunshine has that effect on the human psyche; it makes them cheerful, unsuspecting. It’s hot out. People open their doors and their windows. Easier to get in, easier to get out.
On the bad side, there aren’t as many shadows to sneak into. Not as many places to hide. Things are more visible – and that’s partly the reason why people aren’t as afraid.
Felgurd pressed himself to the wall of the alley, folded into a crouching pose as the fabric of his shirt stretched tightly across his stolen skin.
He searched the crowd moving past the entrance to the alley. Feet tramped, heads nodded, arms swung. The elderly aren’t any good; their hands are old, weak, and brittle. Children’s hands are too small to grasp anything. No, what he is looking for is one in their prime, their late twenties or early thirties. That’s why he came here, to the busy Chicago streets, where the young and old stay home and let the more fit specimens walk the roads.
There. A young woman, maybe twenty-nine, dressed sharply in a grey suit jacket. She walked briskly, her briefcase swinging by her side.
Felgurd unfolded himself to his full height, about ten feet, and stretched his long arms across the wall, towards the roof. He grabbed hold of a gutter and the exposed hands of his body searched the surface of the wall for cracks to use as handholds. Hauling himself onto the roof of the building, he perched on the tiled edge of the roof and spotted his quarry walking quickly, weaving through the crowd. She will not be let out of his vision.
He reached out and grasped the next roof over, did a back flip only performable for someone without a spine, and landed on the roof with his feet (which were also hands). Performing this same maneuver each time he moved from house to house, he tracked his victim through the Chicago back alleys and side streets to a small, but well-to-do, apartment building.
The woman stepped through the threshold, her actions confident, her manner self-assured. The elevator doors slid open, and she stepped through, pulling a key from her purse while she walked. The elevator closed, the quarry disappeared. But hope was not lost.
Felgurd looked around the street. No one was in sight. He slipped down the side of the building and slunk over to the apartment. Hands scrabbled across the cracked concrete, again seeking handholds. Like a spider Felgurd crawled over the walls of the apartment, peering through windows, making sure not to be caught.
He found his victim on the fifth floor, a neat and organized room, with a desk in one corner and a bed in the other. She seemed to be writing something frantically, the details of which did not concern or interest Felgurd in the least. He waited patiently, very patiently, for her to leave the room. He had to block off the doorway or else she could escape and notify the authorities, which is something he wished to avoid.
Eventually she went off to another room, assumedly the bathroom, and Felgurd slipped one of his more slender hands under the window and unlatched it. Creeping slowly inside, his boneless body making it near effortless, he contorted himself into various shapes until he stood, his head stooped, inside the room.
He moved to stand in front of the bathroom door, and could hear the faint sound of water running. She was probably taking a shower. Years of experience among humans had taught Felgurd about their habits and their hygiene. He knew what they liked to do around certain times, and what certain sights and sounds and smells meant.
Detaching one of his hands from his body, deciding to control it remotely, he moved it through the crack under the door, then crawling upwards, blindly, but feeling, feeling – ah! The hand found the doorknob, and with a swift motion, unlocked the door. A clicking sound could be heard; it was faint, but all Felgurd could do was hope that the sound of the running water had drowned out the noise.
Felgurd turned the doorknob. Slowly, so it made no noise. Slowly… no. There was no escape for her now. No need to be secretive.
Felgurd threw open the door so violently it hit the wall behind and made a loud cracking noise. Felgurd burst into the room and tore the shower curtain off its rod. A misplaced foot shattered the toilet, spraying water from broken pipes. The woman stood there, her mouth open like sound should be coming out, but none was. Water leaked from the broken toilet and the running shower spewed it over the wall.
Felgurd grabbed her by the shoulders.
“What is my purpose?!” he said, in a low voice like the sound of two cinder blocks grating against each other.
The woman began gibbering, utter nonsense. She didn’t know.
“Why do I exist??!!”
More gibbering. Felgurd threw her against the wall, hard. Her skull cracked, blood stained the wall, swirling red in the growing pool of water. Her hands were his. Not hers anymore, only his. The hands became part of him, joined the crowd.
Felgurd crawled out the way he came.