John D., from The Multiverse, a roleplay on RPG

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#2012-10-29 04:19:17, as written by Din

John D. Every other second passed another muffle 'clop.' The sound of boots who had seen their best days come and go, worn by a man who had yet to learn what this even meant, came and went with the rhythm of a meandering life just beginning to find its mores. And the streets this life stood upon were as dry as the man's tongue. High above, over the building, over the classless establishments he stood squeezed between, stood a navy sky, speckled with stars and the dreams of countless others for generations. At this place would the monstrosity of a man gaze, and feel the first nudge of new life. His eyes would land on a broken glass. He would kneel to touch it; to roll it on his index. It was the beginning of something sacred, something momentous, and it began with a gaze at refuse.

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Side Alley

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#2012-10-29 04:55:39, as written by Din

John D. Utterly distracted in this fractured piece, John noticed that the the light from the building and the darkness everywhere else made a weird effect on it. He wanted to look at it. He wanted to look at this refuse. His patchworked-skin index and thumb pinched the mouth of the broken bottle and he nearly lifted it until a shadow fell over the light that landed on the bottle, and thus took away the desire to stare at it any more. Yes, someone had been there, and he had heard every word they had said, but he was reluctant to look up. He reactions he had drawn from people meant that it was safer for him to be out at night.

But he did not know if that would change the way the 'night people' like him would react. He lifted his head with some hesitance to reveal to the young lady the patched up skin of his face; the sutre scars between each different piece; the near hollwness of his eyes, behind which a soul may not have been seen.

"I look...worn?" He repeated quizically. "I have worn clothes in the past. I wore clothes yesterday. I am...worn?"

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Side Alley

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#2012-10-29 05:38:37, as written by Din

John D. turned his head slowly back to the bottle, an odd and otherwise superstitious tendency, as if expecting the things that he wanted to look at to return the way they had been. It had been tried countless times with his creator, it had been tried with his attempts to reach home, but there was nothing to return to. The bottle had lost its luster with the shadow cast on it. It was just another piece of trash haplessly tossed in the gutter, as dark as the world around it.

The light, he could see, now rested on the young girl's back. He rose to his full height of 6'2; the hood of his tattered jacked falling over his eyes and largely obscuring sight of his sewn-together face. But his chin still held two colors. Here was this dream of the Greeks in their idea of a university; a monstrosity to the Terrans>

"Cory, I am John Doe." He extended his hand cordially. And his hand gave the girl no less reason to cough as she had when John's hood fell back. "I want to go into this place." He pointed at the wall with his free hand, crossing it over his extended one. "But I do not think it will be possible to wet my tongue. Can you give me money?"

When first he played with garbage, he now asked minors for money to drink. It made him feel good. It was all he understood.

The setting changes from Side Alley to Gambit's Bar

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Gambit's Bar

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#2012-11-13 22:22:10, as written by Din

John D. As the ghosts and ghouls and other such apparitions that frequented the infamous establishment, John, a patchwork of human remains, reasoned his presence in at least one place might not have been met with fear at the least. For contempt was the ever-present companion of the penniless and wanting, and a brother to a place that mandated tender for service.

Still, he stepped through the door, garbed small and tattered rags. Sleeves that failed to reach his wrists and showed to the world several different colors of skin; if not shades of brown, then pale. Healed stitches revealed a labyrinth of jagged valleys that swam beneath his garbs and crawled up to his distorted face, covered in part by a hood.

He followed behind the two women who entered the bar before him and presently thought to ask for that which he had not.

"Women and..." He turned only slightly the the man who appeared to be floating, not lifting his head, should any more of his face be shown. "you. I need money and information on how to get a soul." The inexperienced at living could hardly hide it.

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Gambit's Bar

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#2012-11-13 22:33:02, as written by Din

John D. "There is a funny feeling in here," he lifted one hand and rested his palm on his stomach. And I know that I can put those," his attention shifted to a shelf of drinks behind a counter. His eyes, clearly mismatched as different shades of brown, gave away his desperation. "in here. This must be the right place." Even though there were oddities about these peoples' faces and gestures, he was too distracted to question them, as even in interpersonal relations, he was also in want.

John had momentarily forgotten about his other hunger - an intangible sort. The empty belly came and went; from a whisper to a crescendo, and back to a whisper. The other hunger was a steady tone. It did not wane. "But you have souls. You got them somehow."

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Gambit's Bar

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#2012-11-13 22:42:52, as written by Din

John D. "Bo-rn..." he still looked at the drinks, distracted, but this time his mind wandered elsewhere. "B- I cannot think. Something must go here first." Again, he patted his belly. "Please, use your money to give me something. It is too much to think of with this beast distracting me."

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Gambit's Bar

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#2012-11-13 22:53:25, as written by Din

John D. Unsure of what to do, John hesitated, but used the utensils he was...endowed with. He scooped up the food and fed himself. It was not his intent to be 'neat,' as he hadn't a clear conception of 'neatness,' but he was careful as he lifted the foot to his mouth. When he felt satisfied to some extent, he paused to respond.

"I have sought a soul for a year. I had heard people have them, but I do not. I was not bo-rn. I was made from people with souls, but I did not get theirs." Now he had the time to consider their faces. It was at this news that made others leave. At least he knew to wait before continuing, lest further breaths should fly to the back of the two heads.

The setting changes from Gambit's Bar to Main Street

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Main Street

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#2012-11-14 09:08:44, as written by Din

John D. The glowing streets were filled with the presence of breezes, filling the air with its whispers to its solitary companion who walked, out paced by his intangible compatriots. His ragged robes pulled away from his body, showered with the ominous phosphorescence from the street lights above, holding miniature suns in their outstretched hands.

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Main Street

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#2012-11-14 09:09:23, as written by Din

John D. One gust was heavy enough to send a poorly situated lamp rocking in its placed. Its song began as a low, but distinct creek in the midst of whispers. A pure tone that rang quietly in the midst of hisses. It reached the half-point of its oscillation, now resisting the winds that pushed it, loosing another low, drawn out creek. It continued this slow, this monotonous song, ringing only slightly louder to the subtler ear that approached, and slightly quieter as the specter of the streets met and passed it.

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Main Street

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#2012-11-14 09:13:54, as written by Din

John D. It was the song of the still rising to life at the beckon of those who surrounded it. Loosed from its morings, pristine as they were, and set in motion at a regular tempo. But the winds would blow night after night, and though far from its destiny, at some point just one more gust; one more puff; the slightest touch would send this beam toppling over.

The light it held in its hand would crash to the ground and be extinguished. The reverberations of its broken body would be heard only by the night. Nonetheless, at least for some time, its song would be heard.

But as it rocked, the song faded to nothingness as the specter left earshot. But the song was heard nonetheless. There was a wheel to be turned for this one.

The setting changes from Main Street to Dead End

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Dead End

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#2012-11-26 06:33:07, as written by Din

John D. An odd, sallow mix of yellow incandescence and the light from the alabaster moon fell to the ground. 'tween buildings and under their shadows were things best kept hidden. What the shadows could not hide, though, was the thick stench and ominous sounds that came from them. A dog...a squirrel...something sat shrouded in shadows at a building side, flanked by a wire fence and an empty lot. It gripped, ripped, and chewed at refuse. The gooey mush could almost be felt by any hapless listener.

Between tears and during the loud gushing sound that slushed out as it chewed, little drips fell to the concrete. Lights came on and off at the residences of residents and hapless passers-by, who could not be up to any good at such an hour, on such a night as this as a biting wind broke the otherwise temperate stillness of the air.

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Dead End

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#2012-11-26 07:09:47, as written by Din

John D. Slush...slush...drip...slush...slush...drip.

Splat.

A yellow glint of what appeard an eye momentarily flashed as whatever it was looked up from its meal- the discard of men. What ever it was squatted over its meal, one appendage was bent and resting on a leg...a knee. The hand... hung almost lifeless from an attachment. The juices from whatever it was feasting on dripped from a limp finger to the floor.

Drip...

And chunks rolled from it...Splat.

As a large chunk of cloud rolled out from under the moon, a pale or something humanoid was revealed to be the source of the noise. Patches of skin. Browns. Pales. It looked up, confounded by the noise...the wonderful noise and presently rose from its meal. A rib cage lay open at its feet now. It stepped over, still chewing on the old, rotted morsels and approached the person at the fence (Aika). A steady, cautious walk.

The setting changes from Dead End to The Ruins

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The Ruins

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#2012-12-12 05:59:01, as written by Din

John D. Amidst the felled buildings and their disconnected pieces approached a reconstruction of sorts. Physically made of others as his myriad skin tones and hair textures, his appearance would attest to his origins. And yet among ruins he symbolized a reconstruction...of sorts. In tattered bits of clothing and a hood, he walked among his symbolic substituent pieces.

The setting changes from The Ruins to Forest Border

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Forest Border

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#2013-01-15 01:32:13, as written by Din

John D. Long, continuous pasteurs gave way in sudden juts to long, scraggly grass, laced with broken wood and other such foliage leading gradually to a fully wooded forest. This place where the forest both began and ended served as home for one of the multitudinous societal outcasts. A modern monster of Dr. Frankenstein. He lurked under the cover of rising grasses awaiting an unfortunate meal to pass by.

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Forest Border

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#2013-01-15 01:41:59, as written by Din

John D. In the midst of all the motion that sent the young amalgam of men in a state of caution, a potential meal sprung up, just as alerted as he. The monster held very still, gripping the ground as the mature rabbit sped before him. Then he pounced. Leaping from his hiding spot, he rached out his hand desperately and grabbed its back, finishing his lunge with a roll and holding the flailing rabbit in his hand. With just a squeeze, it's back snapped and it's movements came to a hault. But turning its head, the monster saw a very tall...something (Scarelvus Distorn), and tilted its head.

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Forest Border

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#2013-01-15 01:52:26, as written by Din

John D. eyed the stranger suspiciously. The monster took a careful and slow step backwards taking on a protective stance about its catch. His head jutted up to the side, as if distracted by the sound of another voice, then quickly back to the one before him. Was this one now calling a friend to capture its meal? Or worse...to capture the monster himself. But the monster was no fool by any means, and could play the game just as well.

"Hello..." it mocked, still watching the stranger and hoped to draw out his friend.

Setting

Forest Border

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#2013-01-15 02:06:21, as written by Din

John D. At the sound of 'sword wielding manic,' the monster retreated quickly even further from this new comer. It was a tell he did not wish to give so soon. That it understood. In fact, it had only recently retreated from the slums of common man. Preferring alife of silent dignity...or something like it, than living with utter contempt.

But...it continued to mock. "Who are you?" it tilted its head.

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Forest Border

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#2013-01-15 02:18:45, as written by Din

John D. had been waiting for hours for this opportunity to eat only to have it interrupted by a pair of saboteurs. Or it might have seemed if they didn't appear inept at it. The monster decided to remove its hood to reveal a cacophony of colors, textures, and suture scars. It smiled and held up the dead mammal as an offering.

"I am in no mood for games!" it called in a terrible womanly voice.

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Forest Border

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#2013-01-15 02:41:24, as written by Din

John D. scowled at the response of the new comer. "Too good for my food, but aptly ready to stand in my home." It shook its head at the being and the new one that entered it's domain and froze at the sight of its pale skin.

Setting

Forest Border

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#2013-01-15 02:58:07, as written by Din

John D. There was no more hiding its humanity. Or pseudo-humanity. A stranger and an apparition were making small talk in its living room. Meager, but it worked, it thought. One with a high-nose and another with a stick in her-

"You...live on the deaths of others. I'd prefer to be a pet than a demon. I didn't walk away from society to be insulted in my own h-" It coughed. A tough pill to swallow, admittedly. "Home."

But the furrowed [and hairless] brow of mixed skins lightened after it got those words out. If this was a trap, it worked like a charm. If these two were a team, they deserved the meat of this monster...even thought trying might cost them their lives.

"And you...pointy-ears. If you won't eat, can you at least get me some sticks. I'll be eating this rabbit or your clothes."

John D.

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a character in “The Multiverse”, originally authored by Din, as played by RolePlayGateway

Description

So begins...

John D.'s Story

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The setting changes from Side Alley to Gambit's Bar

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The setting changes from Gambit's Bar to Main Street

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The setting changes from Main Street to Dead End

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The setting changes from Dead End to The Ruins

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The setting changes from The Ruins to Forest Border

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