Post by plank175 on Oct 3, 2017 16:13:32 GMT 1
Name:
Plank175 (but people call it Plank)
Age:
574
Gender:
None
Orientation/Sexuality:
Asexual
Alliance:
Inactive Characters
Appearance: Plank175 is a rectangular plank of walnut wood. It is 14x41x3cm. Plank has a distinctive knot towards the top edge.
Personality: Plank175 doesn't say much, and is a very good listener - because of this, other people can't help but enjoy Plank's company. Plank is always there to share those special moments in life, and has a knack for always showing up just at the right moment. People welcome Plank into their lives.
Powers: Plank175 has the power of sentience, and animation. It can move itself at a normal human walking pace, but must be carried to go any faster.
Weaknesses: Plank175 is weak to, and afraid of, fire.
History: Plank175 doesn't talk about itself much, so not much is known about its history. It is said that Plank has lived for centureies, drifting through communities, bringing joy to people.
Roleplay Sample: There was a loud BANG! followed by a quiet hisss, as the Ford Model-T slowly rolled to a stop. There was no sign of movement in the car, and the three men, wearing overalls and flat caps, looked at each other quizzically before silently creeping from the bushes.
Their spike trap had worked perfectly, with the vehicle coming to a stop right in front of them, but they had expected more resistance than this. A guard, or even an armed driver should have been looking for them by now. Why wasn't there a driver?
The three men cautiously approched the car, pistols drawn, heads swivelling, and as they opened up the back they found the precious crates of fermented crab, now theirs, sitting innocently on the seat, with a plank of wood laying against them.
"Something smells fishy about this, boys." said one of the thugs, in a loud whisper.
"It's probably these crates" replied another, chuckling to himself.
"This is NOT the time for jokes, Alan!" commanded the third, clearly the leader. "Terry, fetch the car so we can load them up. Alan, you get the crates out ready, and I'll keep watch."
"No problem, boss" the two replied in unison, and dispersed to complete their tasks.
Alan reached into the car to pick up the crates, brushing the plank of wood off the seat as he did so. The first crate was heavy, and it proved effort to pull it to the side of the car and lift it out. Alan was straining, and as he stepped away from the car with the crate, he saw that same wooden plank again, floating in front of him.
"what the..."
Alan only managed to get out two words before Plank175 reared up, and slammed straight into the side of his head. Holding the crate, he was defenseless, and took the full force of the blow. Alan went straight down, spilling fermented crab all over the dusty road, and landing with a thud, the crate cracking against the ground.
Then Plank175 beat up the other two and left in their own car. Oh, and the fermented crab was fake. The real crab was hidden in a seperate shipment of radio tranceivers. Also this whole thing took place in the past.
Plank175 (but people call it Plank)
Age:
574
Gender:
None
Orientation/Sexuality:
Asexual
Alliance:
Inactive Characters
Appearance: Plank175 is a rectangular plank of walnut wood. It is 14x41x3cm. Plank has a distinctive knot towards the top edge.
Personality: Plank175 doesn't say much, and is a very good listener - because of this, other people can't help but enjoy Plank's company. Plank is always there to share those special moments in life, and has a knack for always showing up just at the right moment. People welcome Plank into their lives.
Powers: Plank175 has the power of sentience, and animation. It can move itself at a normal human walking pace, but must be carried to go any faster.
Weaknesses: Plank175 is weak to, and afraid of, fire.
History: Plank175 doesn't talk about itself much, so not much is known about its history. It is said that Plank has lived for centureies, drifting through communities, bringing joy to people.
Roleplay Sample: There was a loud BANG! followed by a quiet hisss, as the Ford Model-T slowly rolled to a stop. There was no sign of movement in the car, and the three men, wearing overalls and flat caps, looked at each other quizzically before silently creeping from the bushes.
Their spike trap had worked perfectly, with the vehicle coming to a stop right in front of them, but they had expected more resistance than this. A guard, or even an armed driver should have been looking for them by now. Why wasn't there a driver?
The three men cautiously approched the car, pistols drawn, heads swivelling, and as they opened up the back they found the precious crates of fermented crab, now theirs, sitting innocently on the seat, with a plank of wood laying against them.
"Something smells fishy about this, boys." said one of the thugs, in a loud whisper.
"It's probably these crates" replied another, chuckling to himself.
"This is NOT the time for jokes, Alan!" commanded the third, clearly the leader. "Terry, fetch the car so we can load them up. Alan, you get the crates out ready, and I'll keep watch."
"No problem, boss" the two replied in unison, and dispersed to complete their tasks.
Alan reached into the car to pick up the crates, brushing the plank of wood off the seat as he did so. The first crate was heavy, and it proved effort to pull it to the side of the car and lift it out. Alan was straining, and as he stepped away from the car with the crate, he saw that same wooden plank again, floating in front of him.
"what the..."
Alan only managed to get out two words before Plank175 reared up, and slammed straight into the side of his head. Holding the crate, he was defenseless, and took the full force of the blow. Alan went straight down, spilling fermented crab all over the dusty road, and landing with a thud, the crate cracking against the ground.
Then Plank175 beat up the other two and left in their own car. Oh, and the fermented crab was fake. The real crab was hidden in a seperate shipment of radio tranceivers. Also this whole thing took place in the past.