magnificentmomo
That Guy
Background
Hank woke up in a cold sweat. He had the dream again; The impossible dream, but it felt real. That was a feeling he hasn't felt in a long time, if ever. The four armed man of glory smiling at him, calling him by name, and asking him for his help. The smile warming his very soul, like he had imagined Jesus would smile. There were other frightening things in the dream. Darkness, chaos, and modern buildings. As Hank scrambled about his room for his journal and a pen he clung to as many details as he could. He finally found it, and he wrote down all he could remember: a broken, singed sign on the ground that said, "Welcome to Nags Head, North Carolina".
It's the crack of dawn and Hank throws his few mortal belongings into the bed of the old Ford, then looks back at his little shack. For the last 5 years he had called this little spot home, as much as anything could be home. As the engine lurched to life Hank thought back on the last 20 years and how he had gotten here. He was thirteen, he was back in Texas, he had just taken his first communion, God was in Heaven and all was right with the world. His mother was so proud, holding his baby sister, his father was there, having deigned to enter the church, but only because he knew how important this was for Hank. He hadn't seen them in so long... The most proud though, was Pastor Speaks, who had picked Hank as his prodigy. Pastor put his hand on Hank's shoulder and spoke, "You have a purpose here Hank, the word is strong with you. You will be a great man of faith." Those words had always stayed with him, although they brought up very different emotions as the years went on.
Not long after that Pastor Speaks moved away, and the other preachers just didn't have the fire Pastor Speaks did. That, compounded with the fact that Hank's parents couldn't afford private school anymore, meant that Hank was now going to public school. He stopped going to church, and he found it harder and harder to find that feeling again, and the world grew distant. Then, senior year, a letter came, from Concordia University, the Lutheran Seminary in Missouri. Hank knew it had been Pastor Speaks. The world seemed a bit brighter, but hollow...
It was two years into seminary now, and Hank was the star pupil. All of the teachers felt the Word in him, but they were unable to counsel him on his problems. He was experiencing a cognitive dissonance with the Word, and the World. He believed, and he had faith, but it just didn't fit. So he left. He went to find God in the world. He traveled, and worked many jobs, had many conversations with many people. He eventually became a logger, to get as close to nature as he possibly could. As his ax sunk deep into the trunk of a tree with a resounding thud, the mountain air filled his lungs. This was as close as he could get, but everything still seemed wrong. He sequestered himself on the mountains, and he wrote. He thought he could puzzle through this challenge God had placed before him. He puzzled and tortured words, phrases, and himself until he contrived that the world was an illusion, this existence itself was a parable, but he couldn't find the question, let alone the answer. He begged for hints, but nothing came, and he couldn't reconcile reality.
Finally he had his hint. It didn't make a lick of sense, but it was a hint. As the Ford roared towards Nags Head, Hank puffed at the cigar he had rolled himself: "God is in the little pleasures," he always said. He blew smoke at the figurine of St Christopher, sitting next to the Buddha and hula girl on his dash.
"Whaddya think Chris? Have I finally lost it, or does God have a plan?"
The figurine replied with silence.
Description
A bear of a man who sports a bushy black beard and has a face and set of baby blues that look both kind and world weary at the same time. If he believed in plastic surgery, he would probably get rid of his slightly bulbous nose. He basically only owns flannel shirts these days, and he is completely aware of how ridiculous it is, but he has bigger fish to fry than fashion sense.
Motivation: Find God
Intimacies: Nature (respect), God (mixed admiration and confusion), Pastor Speaks (begrudged respect), Family (Love), Religion (obsession)
Attributes
Str ooo Cha ooo Per oo
Dex ooo Man oo Wit oo
Stm ooo App oo Int oo
Abilities
Survival ooo
!Performance ooooo
Presence ooooo
Resistance ooo
Integrity ooo
Melee ooo
Ride oo
Linguistics o
Martial Arts oo
Craft oo (water, wood)
Lore ooo
Occult ooooo
Medicine o
Athletics oo
Buerocracy o
Socialise o
Dodge o
Awareness ooo
Valor: oo
Compassion: oo
Conviction: ooo
Temperance: oo
Willpower oooooo
Essence ooo
Background-
Resources o
Contacts oo
Destiny oo
Terrestrial Sorcery Spells-
Thunder Wolf's Howl
Sapphire Circle Counter-Magic
The Violent Opening of Closed Portals
Hank woke up in a cold sweat. He had the dream again; The impossible dream, but it felt real. That was a feeling he hasn't felt in a long time, if ever. The four armed man of glory smiling at him, calling him by name, and asking him for his help. The smile warming his very soul, like he had imagined Jesus would smile. There were other frightening things in the dream. Darkness, chaos, and modern buildings. As Hank scrambled about his room for his journal and a pen he clung to as many details as he could. He finally found it, and he wrote down all he could remember: a broken, singed sign on the ground that said, "Welcome to Nags Head, North Carolina".
It's the crack of dawn and Hank throws his few mortal belongings into the bed of the old Ford, then looks back at his little shack. For the last 5 years he had called this little spot home, as much as anything could be home. As the engine lurched to life Hank thought back on the last 20 years and how he had gotten here. He was thirteen, he was back in Texas, he had just taken his first communion, God was in Heaven and all was right with the world. His mother was so proud, holding his baby sister, his father was there, having deigned to enter the church, but only because he knew how important this was for Hank. He hadn't seen them in so long... The most proud though, was Pastor Speaks, who had picked Hank as his prodigy. Pastor put his hand on Hank's shoulder and spoke, "You have a purpose here Hank, the word is strong with you. You will be a great man of faith." Those words had always stayed with him, although they brought up very different emotions as the years went on.
Not long after that Pastor Speaks moved away, and the other preachers just didn't have the fire Pastor Speaks did. That, compounded with the fact that Hank's parents couldn't afford private school anymore, meant that Hank was now going to public school. He stopped going to church, and he found it harder and harder to find that feeling again, and the world grew distant. Then, senior year, a letter came, from Concordia University, the Lutheran Seminary in Missouri. Hank knew it had been Pastor Speaks. The world seemed a bit brighter, but hollow...
It was two years into seminary now, and Hank was the star pupil. All of the teachers felt the Word in him, but they were unable to counsel him on his problems. He was experiencing a cognitive dissonance with the Word, and the World. He believed, and he had faith, but it just didn't fit. So he left. He went to find God in the world. He traveled, and worked many jobs, had many conversations with many people. He eventually became a logger, to get as close to nature as he possibly could. As his ax sunk deep into the trunk of a tree with a resounding thud, the mountain air filled his lungs. This was as close as he could get, but everything still seemed wrong. He sequestered himself on the mountains, and he wrote. He thought he could puzzle through this challenge God had placed before him. He puzzled and tortured words, phrases, and himself until he contrived that the world was an illusion, this existence itself was a parable, but he couldn't find the question, let alone the answer. He begged for hints, but nothing came, and he couldn't reconcile reality.
Finally he had his hint. It didn't make a lick of sense, but it was a hint. As the Ford roared towards Nags Head, Hank puffed at the cigar he had rolled himself: "God is in the little pleasures," he always said. He blew smoke at the figurine of St Christopher, sitting next to the Buddha and hula girl on his dash.
"Whaddya think Chris? Have I finally lost it, or does God have a plan?"
The figurine replied with silence.
Description
A bear of a man who sports a bushy black beard and has a face and set of baby blues that look both kind and world weary at the same time. If he believed in plastic surgery, he would probably get rid of his slightly bulbous nose. He basically only owns flannel shirts these days, and he is completely aware of how ridiculous it is, but he has bigger fish to fry than fashion sense.
Motivation: Find God
Intimacies: Nature (respect), God (mixed admiration and confusion), Pastor Speaks (begrudged respect), Family (Love), Religion (obsession)
Attributes
Str ooo Cha ooo Per oo
Dex ooo Man oo Wit oo
Stm ooo App oo Int oo
Abilities
Survival ooo
!Performance ooooo
Presence ooooo
Resistance ooo
Integrity ooo
Melee ooo
Ride oo
Linguistics o
Martial Arts oo
Craft oo (water, wood)
Lore ooo
Occult ooooo
Medicine o
Athletics oo
Buerocracy o
Socialise o
Dodge o
Awareness ooo
Valor: oo
Compassion: oo
Conviction: ooo
Temperance: oo
Willpower oooooo
Essence ooo
Background-
Resources o
Contacts oo
Destiny oo
Terrestrial Sorcery Spells-
Thunder Wolf's Howl
Sapphire Circle Counter-Magic
The Violent Opening of Closed Portals