Pakk84

I might be very tired... but I can't find the link to the Discord channel. Can you help with this? 🙂

Horas MacCoinnich Horas woke up with a sole sentence ringing in his head. A sentence that didn't make any sense to the young man. “Stop the Doomsire..,” As soon as his eyes opened he started panicking. He did recognise anything around him, nothing that looked remotely similar to the familiar but now somehow fuzzy memory of the facility where he has been for... well, for as long as he could remember. He looked around and found the darkness of the night at his back, and the campfire in front of him, with some figures gathered around it. He was about to start screaming when from the back of his head a memory came back, and he realised that he had a connection to the people around the campfire. He concentrated for some seconds, but it was only when the woman mantioned the name that he could remember. When the man replied the woman's name came back as well. "Jinx... Tannus... I know you." He looked at the other people in the group and felt somehow compelled to keep talking. "Oz, Grace, Frood... Ichiro? I also know all of you... Do you..." Horas hold his head with both hands with frustration for the fact that the only name he couldn't recall was his own, and looked at the others helpless. "Do you know me? I don't know where I am, I... I can't remember anything. Just some words that make no sense." He searched in his clothes looking for anything that could help, but he found only empty pockets. OOC OOC stuff  

Sorry I am having a hard week at work. I will post tonight, even if it's a introductory post.

Horas MacCoinnich   Horas wokes up late as he had been in the past few months. He sees everyone waking up early and training and so on, and he wonders about the reason to keep doing it. He and his fellow inmates had been locked there for as long as he can remember, literally. No explanation; no reason. And worst of all; no recollection of anything before the Facility. He many times wondered that maybe there was nothing before the Facility, or outside the Facility... but then he'll have that dream, the dream that will tell him that there is more behind the high walls and the iron gates. He takes some food and eats it with as much peasure as he can. Not much else to enjoy here. He had trained enough and he has no interest in taking any of the dummy weapons; they'd be useless in case of real combat. Instead he did the same thing he'd done a thousand times. He took a casual walk around the inside room and then the courtyard. He'll check for any changes in the locked doors or cracks the tall smooth wall and that would mean an opportunity to reach the outside. He knew he'd get nothing from this, still doing it as a daily rutine. At some point he approaches the man and woman talking and with an awkward smiles, ignoring the conversation the are having and he starts his own conversation. "I was thinking... Maybe we are sick and contangious and that's why we were locked here. Some king of memory sickness. Or we did something horrible and we've been punished with forgetting our past and staying here forever. Do you think we are here because we can't remember anything prior this place... or we can't rember anything because someone put us in this place?"  The answer does not matter to him, but talking to the other people has been his resolution for the last few weeks.

Horas MacCoinnich Regular text "Talking" "SHOUTING" Thinking OOC OOC stuff

I do have a PDF version of the elephant in the room but apparently it is outdated. Corrected the feats with the online link instead 🙂 Otherwise I'm good. Not sure if I can start writting in the IC.

  Name: Horas MacCoinnich Race: Human Class: Ranger Archetypes: Guide Multiclassing: Standard   Appearance Red, Long, wavy hair slightly covers Horas' barely tanned, thin face. He has deep emerald eyes that ussually look at things intensely as trying to absorb everything in his sorroundings. His face is covered by a short beard that matches his hair. The beard very conviniently hides a scar in his left cheek, which he has no recollection of how he got. As he moves he does it economically, keeping still and motionless unless there is a reason for it. This makes him look awkwardin many social interactions, but it is a habit  very useful while scouting, sneaking or tracking in the wilderness.    Personality Horas does not talk a lot, but when he does he is veery frank and open, trying all his best to make sure he delivers the exact message he want to. This trait can be difficult for most people more accostumed to convoluted conversations and double meanings. The reason for this way of behaving is due to his lack of confidence in dealing with other people, as he tried to convey the information the best way he can therefore removing it from any unnecessary bits the best he can. There's something seductive about Horas, perhaps it's his good will or perhaps it's simply his attitude. But nonetheless, people tend to like him, while commending him for his deeds.   Dream The most vivid thing Horas remembers is the rain falling down. He can feel the drops hitting his cloack as he walks down a narrow path though what it looks it is an endless forest. The time of the day is uncertain since the dark clouds and the heavy rain dims the light to look almost as it's the last hour of the day, but Horas can't tell. He sees himself walking by the side of another man, bigger and stronger than himself, but the face of the man is always fuzzy. He seems to be leading the way towards somewhere important, and Horas feels the place they're heading is familiar. The rain soaks the cloths of the young man and he feels the cold in his pale skin. The wind starts to blow stronger; the drops of rain hits the face of the young man, getting in his eyes. He feels weak and as the path slowly goes up and up Horas starts to fall behind the other man. The mud on the road becomes slippery and each step seems more and more difficult to take. He tries to keep up with the other man, but as the path climbs up he slips and feels even smaller and weaker. Does not matter how hard he tries the man stays in front of him and he never manages to get by his side.  At some point the path is so steep than more than walking Horas almost climbs with arms and legs in the mud. Horas feels he's at his weakest and as he cries for help the man turns to help him. The picture of mud and puddles where his hands are buried is replaced by a big, enourmous hand offering to help. As he holds the man's hand he realises that the man's hand is not huge, but his hand is the hand of a little kid. As Horas looks up to see the face of the man, he always awakes.