Description

Age: 25
Sex: Male
Height: 5'11
Weight: 165 lbs.
Eyes: Hazel
Race: Caucasian
Hair: Naturally black, often dyed different colors and styles; currently green mohawk

Somewhat tall with wiry muscle and a permanently sickly pale complexion. He looks like he might be somewhat handsome if he'd clean up a bit and maybe not act so crudely. He rocks a short ungelled and unkempt, pea-soup green mohawk, a few ear piercings and several tattoos across his body including a large one on his back featuring a fanged skull with a mohawk made of bone vomiting flaming words saying "The Bell-Ends". He also sports several noticeable scars. One runs the length of the underside of hi chin up to behind his ear. There is and "X" shaped scar directly over his heart and two long deep one running from the bottom of his wrists to halfway down his forearms.

Ralph is rarely seen without his trademark leather jacket, adorned with studs, spikes, patches, buttons and duct tape. It is his prized possession and through either some miracle or plain dumb luck, it seems to survive all his antics.

Personality

Ralph takes the anti-establishment tenants of punk rock culture true to heart, believing everyone should be free to live for themselves. If something threatens his freedom or the freedom of others, he'll fight it until he drops. Though perennially loud, rude and more than a bit of a wise-ass, Ralph actually deeply cares about people and his far less "hardcore" on the inside then he's willing to let on.

Ralph's demeanor is generally pretty agreeable. Though quite unrefined, he manages to give of some sort of honest, innate charm, earning him more friends than one would expect from a person such as himself.

Equipment

Typically carries a tin flask engraved with the word "c**t", a .38 snubnose revolver, a packet of King Grant: Black cigarettes, a butterfly knife, a zippo lighter.

Also owns a sawed-off shotgun named "Vera" and a dark green Triumph Thunderbird though both of these assets were lost to him when he found himself transported to Terra.

Ralph's emetomancy is a somewhat esoteric form of magic based around inducing emisis (puking) as a focal point. A natural paradox of emetomancy is that vomiting is both a sign of illness and a cleansing act. Using emetomancy, Ralph can vomit and purge any poison, corruption, parasite (physical or psychic) or disease from his body. Using his powers on others, he can force a target to vomit in a variety of ways, from a simple messy barf, to puking up blood, to vomiting internal organs. He has the ability to vomit a liter of acid strong enough to melt solid rock but is hesitant to do this, do to fear that it may destroy his beloved jacket. On at least two occasions he's demonstrated an ability to rudimentarily read the future in puddles of his own vomit, though this ability does not always work properly and has cost him as much as it's gained him.

Through his utter defiance of the corrupt infrastructure of society and the occult underworld, Ralph channels the human archetype of the Masterless Man so strongly he has ascended to the state of representative avatar. This grants him additional powers, mostly pertaining to the ability to survive staggering physical injury in combat.

His emetomancy and avatar powers aside, Ralph has a particularly strong personal energy field, or "soul". This provides him with a heightened sensitivity to happenings beyond the physical plane. While not quite a psychic, Ralph is definitely considered a sensitive. Ralph has also become very well-versed in matters of the occult and this experience makes him as formidable as any practical ability.

Ralph is a very capable hand-to-hand combatant. He uses a very rough-and-tumble style of street fighting that specializes in heavy attacks and using the environment as a weapon. While considerably dangerous unarmed, Ralph prefers to use his magic or his wits to defeat an opponent.

Ralph is also quite skilled with firearms of various kinds, though he favors shotguns simply because believes they look cool.

He's also an above-average driver and was quite fond of riding his motorcycle into dangerous situations.

History

Denner was born in Trenton, New Jersey on November 5, 1987 to construction worker Carlton J. Denner Sr., and Marisol Lane Denner. He had an older brother named Donald, born 1982 and later a younger sister, Elizabeth in 1992. Marisol Denner died giving birth to Elizabeth.

Sometime in the Fall of 2003, Ralph attended a punk rock concert featuring the band Saturn's Horse. It is believed this is when he met Saturn's Horse drummer and emetomancer Thomas Mulligan. In December of that year, Denner Jr. Returned home to find that child services had come and taken his sister away. After an altercation was his drunken father during which Denner Jr. apparently caused his father to vomit several pints of blood, Ralph fled into the snowy streets of Trenton.

Ralph, friend Ronald Cale, Peter Santiago and Calvin "Taint" Arkansas formed the punk band The Bell Ends in 2007, becoming modestly successful. Tensions between Arkansas and the rest of the band grew as Calvin at some point discovered epideromancy. This eventually erupted into a physical conflict between Ralph and Arkansas resulting in Ralph being hospitalized. The Bell Ends then disbanded. Calvin "Taint" Arkansas was later connected to the violent deaths of two people and then disapeared.

Ralph has since found himself deeply involved in the occult underground. He co-founded a team of adepts calling themselves "Anarchos", waging war against the various shadowy factions that attempted to exert total control over the world's flow of magic. Repeatedly clashing with the forces of supernatural malcontent, including his old nemesis Taint, who he finally was able to destroy permanently in 2013, Ralph and Anarchos became well known forces in the occult underground.

_______________________________________________________________________

Seven months ago, Ralph woke up in a dumpster, in a world not his own. He has been homeless ever since, apparently doomed never to see anyone he cares about ever again.

So begins...

Carlton "Ralph" Denner Jr.'s Story

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Setting

Wing City

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Character Portrait: Carlton "Ralph" Denner Jr.

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#2013-03-09 22:24:58, as written by punkrock_pizzaboy

Ralph fluttered his eyes awake. His head ached. He reached up to his temple and felt the sticky wetness of blood.
"Ah, shit. Where the fuck am I?" he groaned aloud to no one in particular. That was when he noticed where he was. It was an open dumpster.
"Christ," he grumbled, climbing out, shaking the filth off his jacket and trying vainly to ignore the putrid aroma. He wracked his brain, trying to figure out where he was. The last thing he remembered was fighting a particularly stubborn spacial force mage in a Baltimore subway and now he was... here. Where ever here was. Ralph walked out of the alley to the street proper. It certainly didn't look like Baltimore. Ralph shuddered. He didn't like this. Something was off. The general magical flow of everything seemed... off. Different. He had never felt anything like it before.
"Alright, then we'll do this," he grumbled. He bent over and puked all over the sidewalk. As the vomit hit the pavement, it immediately began to move and slide into pictures and shapes.
"Where the fuck am I?" Ralph demanded, seemingly of the shifting vomit on the sidewalk. Instantly it began to rearrange into a very distinct image of the very familiar planet Earth. Then suddenly the image twisted and seized, spazing violently, becoming a whirling spiral, and then, very distinctly a planet that was NOT Earth. The continents, the oceans, they were... wrong.
"Uh-oh," gulped Ralph, reaching into his jacket for a cigarette. He pulled one out and lit it. "Not in Kansas anymore, am I Toto?"
He shook the last bits of dizziness out of his head and began walking down the street.

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Wing City

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#2013-03-09 22:41:28, as written by punkrock_pizzaboy

Puffing gently on his second or third cigarette since waking in the dumpster, Ralph walked down the long, wide street. There was definitely something strange about this place. As far as he could tell, it was an extremely large city, but no landmarks of any kind that he could identify. He thought back to his Spilled Secrets spell and a shudder ran down his spine. Could the spacial force mage have sent him to another planet? Maybe even another reality? He felt relief that his powers were still working, but a sick twist in his gut reminded him he had no idea where he was or how he could ever get home.
Not that he missed it.
Much.
Ralph dug into the pockets of his fraying grey jeans and pulled out a few balled up bills.
"Hurm. 40 bucks," he mused. "Hope they take American here." He pocketed the cash. And looked around. He seemed to be in a somewhat residential district, though there were a few small shops as well.

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Wing City

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#2013-03-09 23:01:28, as written by punkrock_pizzaboy

Ralph stomped out his fifth cigarette.
"Ok, fuck this," he muttered under his breath. "I'm just gonna do it."
He had been pacing in front of what from he could tell, was an expensive looking townhouse in the apparently more upper class residential district, trying to decide if it was worth a knock. They four passersby and three homeless men he had spoken to hours ago had yielded him no useful information. As much as he hated to admit it, Ralph was lost and he needed help.
"Couldn't hurt, I suppose," he sighed, walking up the front steps.
He banged on the door loudly.
"Anyone home?"

The setting changes from Wing City to Gambit's Bar

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Setting

Solinus City

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#2013-10-11 23:56:40, as written by punkrock_pizzaboy

Ralph's eyes snapped open.
"Gahh! Fuck!" he cried, clawing his way out of another dumpster.
"Fucking spatial magical shit. Always a fucking dumpster." Kicking garbage off of himself, he staggered out onto the street, doubled over and threw up all over the pavement.
"Where am I?" he demanded, seemingly of the puddle of sick on the cement. Instantly, the putrid mess began moving and shifting into the clear image of a map, displaying the Eastern Seaboard, then zooming in to show Solinus City itself.
"Great. I miss goddamn Earth." Ralph pulled a King Grant cigarette out of his battered jacket, stuck it in his mouth, ran his fingers through his limply hanging pea-soup green mohawk and began to walk down the street.

The setting changes from Solinus City to Wing City Library

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Wing City Library

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#2013-10-12 00:35:23, as written by punkrock_pizzaboy

Ralph strolled into the grand library, cigarette in mouth. He looked around at the tall shelves and volumes upon volumes with mild disinterest. He was soaked from the rain outside and his jacket shone wetly in the soft light, his green mohawk flattened against his head, hanging in his face.
"Anyone home?" he called in with somewhat obnoxious volume, puffing on the cigarette.

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Wing City Library

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#2013-10-12 00:59:23, as written by punkrock_pizzaboy

Ralph ran his finger down the spine of a large tome resting on a dusty shelf. It's leather-bound spine read Quizitus Chine's Spatial Theorums.
"Good a place to start as any," Ralph huffed, pulling the book down from the shelf. He dropped it heavily on the nearest table. He dragged up a chair and sat in it backwards, leaning over the book in front of him, squinting at the tiny scrawl and scribbled diagrams.
Several cigarettes later, Ralph stood back up, cracked his knuckles, and flipped the book shut.
"Useless," he grumbled, exhaling a large cloud of smoke.

The setting changes from Wing City Library to Main Street 1

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Main Street 1

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#2013-10-12 04:57:44, as written by punkrock_pizzaboy

Ralph shook himself awake. As he sat upright he noticed a small cluster of roaches scurry off right leg, which dangled limply out of the side of the dumpster he laid in.
"Ugh, awesome," he grumbled shaking himself off, beating away the foulness with his jacket before throwing on.
"I fucking hate this city," Ralph breathed, reaching into his jacket for a King Grant: Black cigarette and lighting it as it hung from his lips.
A large drop of water hit him square in the forehead.
"Because of course it is," he grumbled, as it began to rain. He turned up the collar of his jacket and walked down the street.

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Main Street 1

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#2013-10-12 05:12:58, as written by punkrock_pizzaboy

Ralph sighed. He didn't know where he was going. He never did. Ralph would routinely just pace the leylines of the city, the natural veins of magical energy that flowed through the air. It charged him, warmed him up. It was better than than his favorite cheap scotch.
Almost better.
Flicking away his fourth cigarette in half an hour of being awake, he reached into his jacket and pulled out a flask, engraved with looped cursive writing spelling out the word "cunt". Taking a swig, shuddered, then pocketing the tin flask, he walked on.

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Main Street 1

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#2013-10-12 05:20:56, as written by Moonscar

"Uh-uh, no apologizing," chided the girl, pointing at him with a warning. She put a pot onto the stove and started the flames.

"I've started some tea. I might heat up some leftover ravioli or something. Until then, why don't you clean yourself up? I can rummage around Merrick's room to find some clothes you can borrow. The man in question went out early this morning for some reason. Meeting someone. He's been doing that a lot lately." She reached for a pack of cigarettes on the counter and slipped outside onto the balcony.

Leaning her elbows onto the railing, she sparked a flame with a snap of her fingers. The flame was black and two-dimensional, curling like a sheet of paper, but it lit the cigarette in a bright orange fire. She looked down into the street from the balcony, catching sight of a passing stranger below.

"Need an umbrella? We've got one to spare," she called down, noticing the obvious downpour.

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