So how many will rp a samurai for the expansion, but act more like a ronin?
Samurai, worked under someone, and would kill or die if commanded to. Absolute devotion to their boss. Bodyguard/hitman.
Ronin, masterless samurai, wanders around, probably taking any job. Looked down on as they had not committed seppuku when their master died, or lost the favor of their master somehow. Honourless in many peoples eyes. At least during the period they were from
I realise this is ff and it doesn’t have to be strict adherence to any lore. I am honestly just curious how people wanna rp their samurai. I’d be interested in one of my chars being recruited and working for a Daimyou. Sounds interesting!^^
“… What’s it like havin’ like… any respect for yer dad ‘n’ not bein’ scared’a him?” Bill was a little drunk, which helped the words out. It had been over 20 years since he’d seen his step dad and he still hadn’t forgiven the asshole, was still afraid they might run into one another some day, even though the man had almost certainly perished during the outbreak.
The artist brushed past, although hearing Millard call out the lie caused him to stop and turn around. His servant had his arms crossed, and was looking at him the same way a mother would glare disapprovingly at her child. The older man had enough to deal with without someone younger than himself speaking to him in such a manner. Even though it lasted for but a moment, the posture did not go unnoticed.
He lifted a finger and gestured towards the blond. “Don’t. Don’t you ever make that pose again.” He replied with a cutting tone.
The frown on his face deepened a little. It was certainly a change of pace, to have someone actually concerned about his well being. But at this point, it hardly seemed to register, given everything else he had lost at this point. “My personal life isn’t your business, Millard. Your business is keeping this house clean.”
Perhaps on a better day and in a better mood, the artist might have said something. Nothing too deep, as that would be the miracle of the century, but something. However, his servant’s stern pose and the fresh pain of dwelling on his family thanks to the ouija board was too much to speak about.
&&. I splurged on myself today because I needed something.. Some form of joy. And I opened the game case and found this little kylo disc and I started crying. yes it’s a kids game, but I think they’re so much fun and I needed something cute. I wasn’t expecting to find this cute little guy in here and it caused me to just melt down. when I get home, I’m gonna play this and just, cry.
Hundreds of Gothamites were now infected and Jim couldn’t help but blame himself in part. He hadn’t gotten there quick enough, even with the power of the virus coursing through his veins. Jim had brought upon his own damnation for nothing. The gas had dispersed, as well as the people it had infected. Jim was off, not waiting around to find out how long it would take for those infected to start showing signs. He didn’t wait for the chaos that he knew would start to consume the city.
Waiting around for the cops, even for Harvey, was not a part of Jim’s plan either. His partner would lock him up for his own good so Lucius could use him as a human pincushion to find a cure. Jim was certain of it and the part of himself infected with the virus didn’t want that to happen. The part that was still Jim Gordon didn’t want to put his friends in danger if he lost control and didn’t want to waste time sitting around. He had work to do.
The Tetch virus gave him strength and energy, making running the several city blocks away from Union Station seem like nothing. Skidding to a halt, Jim was shook from his daze and bent over panting as his eyes returned to their blue color. Clothing and hair still caked with dirt, it was easy to say both Jim and his life were a mess right now. Confusion. Fear. Anger. All swirling around in the detective’s mind, bouncing around thoughts that didn’t feel like his own. All they told him was to keep moving. Stepping out of the alleyway he’d taken a moment to rest in, Jim stumbled into the street without even a glance up. The squealing of tires caused him to stop and slowly turn his attention towards the noise. For a split second, Jim just stared at the oncoming car trying to stop in time. Gordon stepped forward to meet the vehicle as the virus took hold of him. The man grunted angrily, the sound drowned by the screeching of the car as he slammed his hands down into the hood to stop the car dead in its tracks.
Slowly, Jim looked up as he huffed harshly. His irises were an inky black and his corneas nearly seemed to be bleeding red. He really did look like one of the monsters he’d used to track down. The man’s hands had dented the hood, warped the metal as he had gripped at the car. The two men in the front seats were looking at him in disbelief, very likely wondering if they were supposed to try to run this guy over or shoot him. Jim looked past them to see a pair in the back seats. Mouth parted slightly, Jim titled his head curiously and focused darkened eyes on them. Fish Mooney and Oswald Cobblepot. The latter looked both terrified of his current situation and almost hopeful because Jim was there, his ‘old friend’. Yet the thought that his ‘friend had just stopped a moving car seemed to be enough to give the former mayor a shocked pause.
“I wonder if you can take off more than just my gloves, Parker.”
[In which Peter insists on wanting to see whats under the suit and Wade nervously obliges– but not before slipping in a subtle innuendo, of course.]