Welcome Guest, please Log In or Register
Logged in as Guest
INBOX () / Subs() / MY CONTROLS / / LOG OUT

Profile
Personal Photo

No Photo

Options
Custom Title
Alexander Anderson doesn't have a custom title currently.
Personal Info
Location: No Information
Born: No Information
Website: No Information
Interests
No Information
Other Information
Character's Race: Human...Ish
Link to Profile: http://avalonrpg.jcink.net/index.php?showtopic=5087
Link to Shipper: http://avalonrpg.jcink.net/index.php?showtopic=5103
Link to Tracker: N/A
Character Dev: N/A
Quote: In the name of God, impure souls of the living dead shall be banished into eternal damnation.
Series: Hellsing
Retangular Image: http://38.media.tumblr.com/cbefb0d8cbd99ff997639071a1710db7/tumblr_nhqys6BnR11sdhuzuo1_500.gif
MP3: https://www.dropbox.com/s/z9if2bpepak6siz/Josh%20Ritter%20-%20Getting%20Ready%20to%20Get%20Down%20%5BOfficial%20Lyric%20Video%5D.mp3?dl=1
Character's Job: Orphanage Worker
Time Zone: -3:30
Character Ad: N/A
Alias: Jack
250x400 Avatar: http://i.imgur.com/QvMVnkG.png
Character's Age: UNKNOWN
Statistics
Joined: 15-June 17
Status: (Offline)
Last Seen: Today at 04:25 pm
Local Time: Jun 25 2017, 09:08 PM
30 posts (2.9 per day)
( 0.18% of total forum posts )
Contact Information
AIM No Information
Yahoo No Information
GTalk No Information
MSN No Information
SKYPE No Information
Message: Click here
Email: Private
Signature
View Signature

Alexander Anderson

Ignis

Topics
Posts
Comments
Friends
My Content
Jun 23 2017, 08:58 PM
[dohtml]<link href="https://fonts.googleapis.com/css?family=Open+Sans:400,400i,600,600i" rel="stylesheet">
<link href="https://fonts.googleapis.com/css?family=Oswald" rel="stylesheet">

<center><div class="thebloodonme">

<h1>One, two, three and four<br><br>
The devil's knocking at your door</h1>
<img src="http://i.imgur.com/NKY1J6J.png">

He hated monsters. He hated them with every fiber of his old, tired being, but Anderson sometimes wondered if that wasn't because if he stopped hating them, just for a moment, he might come to pity the bastards. Just as surely as he had come to pity Hellsing's own little pet - that poor, wretched creature that had deserved to die as much as Anderson himself. Theirs had been a bloody pathetic struggle, now that he thought of it with a fresh mind, scoured by the light of Heaven - however brief it had been. Seras Victoria, too, had never struck Father Anderson as evil. Perhaps at first she had, but it had only taken two meetings to realize that she had as much evil in her heart as he did. Nay - less.<P>

Damn them all for giving him any reason to debate his own actions. Damn himself. Damn whoever was to blame for the fact that Anderson found himself vaguely wondering if this - what he was doing right now - was right in the eyes of God. He had once been very sure that he knew what the Almighty desired. He had obeyed the Pope, and the Vatican. He had done his duty for Iscariot, and he had never wavered in his love of God. Anderson didn't waver now, he just knew now that he had as much hope of knowing what the Lord wanted as an ant had to know what he wanted.<P>

It made his choices more tenuous, knowing that, in his own mind and soul, he could not fall back on the Glory of God as an excuse when he acted out violently. While Anderson had been brought to Heaven once already, he worried now more than ever that he could have such a privilege revoked if he did wrong. He had always killed with the single-minded belief that what he did was good. It was noble. He did what no one else could do, and he was God's own assassin.<P>

Now he wondered if he had been an assassin for God, or for men. Things he had never wondered about were burgeoning in his mind, and the paladin didn't know if it was because of his recent experiences, or if it was because he had never been cut off from the church for this long. He didn't know what to trust. He knew that the Vatican had gone through periods of corruption. He knew that he could not remember those periods; not even vaguely.<P>

Anderson had just never wondered why until now, and it was making his entire belief system into a ball of tangled yarn.<P>

So, when faced with whispered rumors that there was a vampire - a proper vampire, that is - roaming Avalon who had not previously been accounted for, Anderson had been faced with something of a dilemma. None of the rumors he heard seemed to suggest that the monstrosity was doing anything - in fact, he wasn't certain that it really was a vampire yet - and he had endeavored to investigate with only a scrap of his usual tenacity. He'd gotten a basic idea of where the thing had been wandering (maybe), and other than that, Anderson had mostly just picked a location on the map that seemed like a plausible next stop on Mr Vampire's tour of the world.<P>

Lying flat on his back in the middle of the desert as the sun disappeared behind the dunes and the temperature finally started to drop, he mused that the trip was worth it if only for the oasis he was lying beside. The water smelled fresh, and there were soft, pleasant sounds of life on all sides. The buildings were all darkened - Anderson had found them empty upon his arrival earlier in the afternoon, though none of them were locked.<P>

That was the way of these tiny places. No sense in locking doors when visitors were unexpected but welcomed with open arms when they did stop by.<P>

Sighing deeply, the paladin almost missed the approach of something that sent what felt like an electric current down his spinal cord. It was a sense that he knew too well to miss, that made his teeth clench even as he remained where he was, forcing himself not to react with blind aggression. Whatever the Hell it was, it was on par with just about the worst Anderson had ever contended with.<P>

He had plenty of self confidence, but even without looking over, the paladin was almost positive that he had as much chance of killing it as he did lassoing the moon. Of course, if it was a danger, he'd have to try. He would try, and try, and try, and if he died (again) he would be able to face the Almighty with dignity.<P>

But...<P>

Anderson sighed. He was getting sick of dying, at this point in his life. He would have liked to give old age its fair shot.<P>

"You're making waves, you know. Not surprising. A thing like you shows up, I suppose everybody takes notice." He sat up on the patch of grass, turning around with eyes narrowed behind his glasses. "People always remember when they've seen a monster, don't they?" The sun was gone now, but the moons cast enough light to make vision a non-issue. Anderson thought about standing up, but decided against it, leaning back on his hands instead. <P>

"Normally I'd try to kill you, but it's a nice night out." He continued contemplatively, frowning upwards and mulling over what he was choosing to do. Damnation or redemption: He wasn't sure what path he was on at the present moment.



</div><a href="http://shine.jcink.net/index.php?showuser=8549"><span style="font: bold 8px/20px calibri; opacity: .5; text-align:center;">BY MITZI</span></a>
</center>

<style>

.thebloodonme {
width: 350px; padding: 40px;
background: #343434; border: solid 1px #000;
box-shadow: 1px 1px 10px rgba(0,0,0,.1);
color: #eee; font: 9px/13px open sans; text-align: justify;
}

.thebloodonme h1 {
font-size: 20px; text-transform: uppercase; font-family: oswald; letter-spacing:-1px;
color: #939393; padding: 0 20px 20px 20px;
border-bottom: solid 1px #515151;
}

.thebloodonme img {
width: 100px; height: 100px; border: solid 25px #515151;
float: right; margin-left: 15px;
}

.thebloodonme b {
font: bold 10px/13px open sans;
}

.thebloodonme .space {
height: 15px;
}

</style>[/dohtml]

Vladimir III Tepes Dracul
Jun 19 2017, 05:27 PM
[dohtml]<link href="https://fonts.googleapis.com/css?family=Open+Sans:400,400i,600,600i" rel="stylesheet">
<link href="https://fonts.googleapis.com/css?family=Oswald" rel="stylesheet">

<center><div class="thebloodonme">

<h1>when you get to Heaven you'll be blessed<br><br>
Yes, it's all for the best</h1>
<img src="http://i.imgur.com/NKY1J6J.png">

Anderson didn't approve of sneaking about like a thief, but that didn't mean he didn't know how to sneak about like a thief. It had been easy enough to get into the theater, and from there Anderson had slipped away from the matinee-viewers, making his way into the bowels of the building, where the noise of the crowd faded away. While it wasn't necessarily dark in the back alleys of the theater, Anderson couldn't shake the oppressive feeling that the walls were too close together. He didn't know how anyone could happily work in such a clustered, tight environment - let alone live there.<P>

Shaking off the perturbed feeling, the paladin moved onward, inspecting every room he came across. Some were dressing rooms, others were clearly lived in. As he went deeper, he came across a few dance halls before most of the available space seemed to lend itself towards storage. Moving through the mountains of organized props and costumes, Anderson followed the storage rooms back to the front of the theater again, looking around in mild surprise when the maze of hallways and rooms seemed to spit him out backstage.<P>

Luckily, it looked like the stage he was lurking behind wasn't currently in use, and Anderson resumed his exploration, examining the different facets that were usually hidden behind curtains and props. Curious now, he leaned back and looked up into the rafters, which seemed to be criss-crossed with catwalks, dangling fifty feet above the stage.<P>

Naturally, he had to look up there. It didn't seem safe at all. It had nothing to do with his own curiosity.<P>

Getting up to the catwalks was something of a challenge in itself (the ladder looked like it had been questionable even when it was new, let alone now, at the tender age of at least two hundred) and Anderson was somewhat disappointed by the time he got up there, finding that it lacked... well, he didn't know what he had expected, but he wasn't seeing it. They were just unstable, shaky platforms held up by rope and chain. Even jumping across them went from amusing to dull after a few minutes.<P>

Scanning the veritable sea of catwalks, he was wondering how in the name of the Almighty he was going to get back to the death-ladder when Anderson caught a... something on the very peripherals of his senses. He didn't know what had tripped his mental alarms - be it a sound, a smell, a flash of movement - but all at once he was hyper-aware that there was someone else nearby. Looking around, he felt like a bleeding fool for having put himself on the most unstable ground available.<P>

One swing of a bayonet though, he reminded himself. One swing and they would be on the stage. He knew he could regenerate from a few broken bones within seconds, but he doubted the same could be said for whoever was lurking in the wings.<P>

Or, maybe he was allowing his paranoia to take over. He didn't sense something otherworldly or supernatural. He would know if that was what waited for him.<P>

"You might as well come out, now. I know you're here." Father Anderson announced, standing calm but ready, determined to give whoever it was a chance to prove that they weren't something worth worrying about. Maybe he really was being dramatic.<P>

It was a theatre, after all.<P>



</div><a href="http://shine.jcink.net/index.php?showuser=8549"><span style="font: bold 8px/20px calibri; opacity: .5; text-align:center;">BY MITZI</span></a>
</center>

<style>

.thebloodonme {
width: 350px; padding: 40px;
background: #343434; border: solid 1px #000;
box-shadow: 1px 1px 10px rgba(0,0,0,.1);
color: #eee; font: 9px/13px open sans; text-align: justify;
}

.thebloodonme h1 {
font-size: 20px; text-transform: uppercase; font-family: oswald; letter-spacing:-1px;
color: #939393; padding: 0 20px 20px 20px;
border-bottom: solid 1px #515151;
}

.thebloodonme img {
width: 100px; height: 100px; border: solid 25px #515151;
float: right; margin-left: 15px;
}

.thebloodonme b {
font: bold 10px/13px open sans;
}

.thebloodonme .space {
height: 15px;
}

</style>[/dohtml]

Erik
Jun 17 2017, 06:24 PM
[dohtml]<link href="https://fonts.googleapis.com/css?family=Open+Sans:400,400i,600,600i" rel="stylesheet">

<center><div class="thebloodonme">

<h1>I’ve got the joy, joy, joy, joy, <br>down in my heart</h1>
<img src="http://i.imgur.com/NKY1J6J.png">

First of all, Father Anderson had really, deeply, truly felt that killing a dire spider was going to be his hard work for the day. And, to his credit, it had been hard. The thing was a solid ten feet tall, and covered in horrible, thick, frosty-grey hair, and it had set up residence in one of the cellars that serviced Salutem's only inn. Judging by the mess of blood and gore inside the cellar, Anderson assumed it had eaten at least four people before the townsfolk had realized they were out of their depth.<P>

He'd been called upon only because one of the children from the Home had since aged out and had emigrated to the tiny village. Remembering his side job, she had asked for his help with the predicament, and Anderson had been too curious to decline. First of all, he had never seen a dire spider. Secondly, he had never heard of one living so far North.<P>

Now, however, he knew that they definitely did live this far North. He also knew that he never wanted to meet one again. While he had no problem moving household spiders when they invaded the Home and incited a mass of shrieking children, Anderson was not at all comfortable with spiders that were almost twice his height and hissing. Frankly, creeping into the cellar after the beast had been more intimidating than any vampire hunt he'd ever been on. <P>

Stupid, really, but he still felt his skin crawling every time he thought about the thing's horrible, skittering legs.<P>

Why did they have so many legs?<P>

Of all the things he wanted to ask the Almighty...<P>

Anyway, killing the monster had only been the start of his problems. For six hours since, Anderson had been fighting to get its body out of the cellar without rupturing the venom-laden flesh. It had started with him, hoping to somehow out-stubborn the dead arachnid, but it had evolved into an all-hands debacle, with two horses and a mule providing back up while a group of five (including Father Anderson himself) shoved the beast up the steps and into the open air.<P>

After that, he had begged off any more help, and had been rolling it towards the edge of the ocean ever since. Cutting into its hide, hoping to keep it from bobbing about like a bloody cork, Anderson kicked the spider off the end of the dock with an almighty, somewhat hysterical shout of victorious laughter. "Spiders! Never! Again!" He exclaimed, talking into the air. "Never again! Gaugh!" Unable to help himself, he shuddered all over and tossed the gooey, venom-drenched bayonet into the ocean after the creature.<P>

"Blessed Father, never ask me to kill a spider again. Amen!"

</div><a href="http://shine.jcink.net/index.php?showuser=8549"><span style="font: bold 8px/20px calibri; opacity: .5; text-align:center;">BY MITZI</span></a>
</center>

<style>

.thebloodonme {
width: 350px; padding: 40px;
background: #343434; border: solid 1px #000;
box-shadow: 1px 1px 10px rgba(0,0,0,.1);
color: #eee; font: 9px/13px open sans; text-align: justify;
}

.thebloodonme h1 {
font: bold 25px/22px times; text-align: center;
color: #939393; padding: 0 20px 20px 20px;
border-bottom: solid 1px #515151;
}

.thebloodonme img {
width: 100px; height: 100px; border: solid 25px #515151;
float: right; margin-left: 15px;
}

.thebloodonme b {
font: bold 10px/13px open sans;
}

.thebloodonme .space {
height: 15px;
}

</style>[/dohtml]

Jun 17 2017, 02:47 PM
[dohtml]<link href="https://fonts.googleapis.com/css?family=Open+Sans:400,400i,600,600i" rel="stylesheet">

<center><div class="thebloodonme">

<h1>I’ve got the joy, joy, joy, joy, <br>down in my heart</h1>
<img src="http://i.imgur.com/NKY1J6J.png">

By rights, amusement should not have been Father Anderson's first reaction when being told of a dragon landing anywhere within Sanctum City. He should not have felt a wonderful thrill of delight when a very understandably worried child confirmed that it was, yes, very big and, better still, very angry. <P>

He should not have left the Home, grinning from ear to ear like a madman. His duty was, technically, with the children, but the Lord worked in miraculous ways, and Anderson could not imagine a dragon landing anywhere in Sanctum without having his name written all over it. Clearly, this was a test from God - or rather, a gift. He had done well, staying out of business what did not concern him. He had turned his cheek a thousand times to heathens and heretics. This was a treat for doing so blessedly well against such adversity. Amen.<P>

He was, frankly, delighted when he arrived in Inops, side stepping dozens of people who were running away from trouble. "Oh, you are a big bastard, aren't you?" He laughed gleefully, planting his hands on his hips as he looked up at the bloody beast, which already seemed to have one broken wing, rendering it flightless and furious.<P>

Anderson didn't pretend to be an expert on dragons. If they did exist in his own world, he surely couldn't remember ever coming across one (not even half-memories that felt like they'd been scrubbed with steel wool) besides in children's movies he'd caught glimpses of in the orphanage. He was, therefore, caught by surprise when the giant lizard spontaneously spit a stream of fire at him, searing half his body to a blackened, agonizing crisp.<P>

The sudden onset of fury was a surprise, after months of deep-penetrating peace in his life. He hadn't hunted much since a pack of dire wolves he'd gone after on the land below Sanctum. He had not, in fact, felt much of an itch for it until now, when the itch transformed into a blind, hysterical quest for the damn monstrosity's blood.<P>

He breathed out slowly, regulating his pulse. The world was reduced to a crawl. The dragon became sluggish and predictable as Anderson pulled two bayonets from within his coat, twirling the familiar blades in his hands, weighing them silently as he began to move along the street, grinning a wide, feral smile.<P>

It wasn't as quick a fight as he had expected. In fact, it took over an hour for Anderson to finally discover the key to killing a great, big, bloody dragon, and it involved several dozen bayonets, a very serious burn, several impalements on claws and teeth, one foot on either side of the beast's jaw, shoving its mouth open, and some blessed, divine luck as he threw blades down the monster's gullet, bypassing its tough-as-iron scales.<P>

When it finally dropped onto the ground with steaming pools of blood dripping from its great maw, Anderson sat on its head with a heavy sigh, patting one of its horns wearily as he caught his breath and waited impatiently for his burns to heal. At least enough for him to head back towards the Home without making a mess all over the street.<P>

Of course, looking around, he reckoned he had already made a fine mess indeed.<P>

Laughing to himself, the paladin pushed himself back onto his feet, stretching with a grimace as the movement broke open some of his raw, blackened flesh before it had had time to heal. Realizing, at long last, that he was no longer alone on the scene, Father Anderson turned his gaze upon the small child not too far away.<P>

Eyes widening in shock and some dull outrage that any adult would allow their own child to get so close to this level of carnage, Anderson walked closer with an expression full of concern. He tried, a bit poorly, to conceal the still-healing wounds that poked out through the charred fabric of his cassock here and there. "Here now, this probably isn't the safest place to be, my dear. You wouldn't want to be around if he woke up, would you?" He said kindly, pointing at the (he hoped) dead dragon. "Come now, where are your parents? What say I walk you home, aye? Dangerous to be strolling about all alone, with monsters about."

</div><a href="http://shine.jcink.net/index.php?showuser=8549"><span style="font: bold 8px/20px calibri; opacity: .5; text-align:center;">BY MITZI</span></a>
</center>

<style>

.thebloodonme {
width: 350px; padding: 40px;
background: #343434; border: solid 1px #000;
box-shadow: 1px 1px 10px rgba(0,0,0,.1);
color: #eee; font: 9px/13px open sans; text-align: justify;
}

.thebloodonme h1 {
font: bold 25px/22px times; text-align: center;
color: #939393; padding: 0 20px 20px 20px;
border-bottom: solid 1px #515151;
}

.thebloodonme img {
width: 100px; height: 100px; border: solid 25px #515151;
float: right; margin-left: 15px;
}

.thebloodonme b {
font: bold 10px/13px open sans;
}

.thebloodonme .space {
height: 15px;
}

</style>[/dohtml]

Chara Dreemurr
Jun 17 2017, 11:21 AM
[dohtml]<link href="https://fonts.googleapis.com/css?family=Open+Sans:400,400i,600,600i" rel="stylesheet">

<center><div class="thebloodonme">

<h1>Be a joy to the joyful, <br>be the laughter in the grief</h1>
<img src="http://i.imgur.com/pSkgmhs.png">

After enough years, herding children became second nature. He didn't have to think about it - one glance at his straggly flock was all Anderson needed to know who was the latest flight risk, and it was a simple matter of grabbing a sticky hand before they could take off into the street like a maniac. <P>

The patience - well, that came naturally. He just didn't find them frustrating, or aggravating. He didn't mind the way even simple chores could take an eternity to accomplish, and he was more than happy to listen to whatever ridiculous stories a four year old could concoct. He always laughed at the right parts, which were rarely actually funny.<P>

Unlike most adult human beings in the world, Anderson didn't shy away from group outings. In fact, he made a point to herd a group of children out the door every other day in alternating packs, to walk down the street to a nearby cafe, where everyone got a cup of cocoa and a cookie, and got to enjoy a day out under his watchful eye. They went to the park, where Anderson carefully helped everyone on and off the playground equipment, watching studiously for the inevitable tears. It was impossible to take a group of children under the age of seven outside without someone eventually getting overtired and emotional.<P>

He didn't mind. It was always an easy fix, even if it meant a handful of children sleeping on his lap while he supervised the rest of the group. That was the bright side to a group home - they all learned to sleep through all manner of noise.<P>

Then, it was back to the Home, and a steady stream of children into one of the communal bathrooms to wash their hands for dinner ("Oh, aye, you washed your hands. And I'm a very tall leprechaun. Go on back in there and do it right.") at which point, Anderson usually took some time to address the building itself, which needed its own love and care to stay functional.<P>

It was this, in turn, that led to his current state of being, sitting cross-legged outside the Home with a pail of white paint, a brush, and a very concentrated expression as he coated wooden pickets one at a time, pulling from an enormous pile and setting them all aside individually to dry. He planned, at some point, to set up individual gardens for the children around the grounds, and he figured some very clear boundaries would keep the territory skirmishes to a minimum.<P>

Stretching in an attempt to work out the stiffness of his awkward position, Anderson picked at the collar of his cassock and blinked in the sun, realizing he wasn't actually alone outside. Adjusting his glasses, he tried to see through the glare of the beautiful day. "Good morning!... Afternoon? Ah, look'it that. Afternoon it is. Time really does fly, eh?"

</div><a href="http://shine.jcink.net/index.php?showuser=8549"><span style="font: bold 8px/20px calibri; opacity: .5; text-align:center;">BY MITZI</span></a>
</center>

<style>

.thebloodonme {
width: 350px; padding: 40px;
background: #343434; border: solid 1px #000;
box-shadow: 1px 1px 10px rgba(0,0,0,.1);
color: #eee; font: 9px/13px open sans; text-align: justify;
}

.thebloodonme h1 {
font: bold 27px/22px times; text-align: center;
color: #939393; padding: 0 20px 20px 20px;
border-bottom: solid 1px #515151;
}

.thebloodonme img {
width: 100px; height: 100px; border: solid 25px #515151;
float: right; margin-left: 15px;
}

.thebloodonme b {
font: bold 10px/13px open sans;
}

.thebloodonme .space {
height: 15px;
}

</style>[/dohtml]
Last Visitors


Yesterday at 04:37 am




Jun 18 2017, 11:24 PM




Jun 18 2017, 09:52 PM



Comments
No comments posted.
Add Comment


ruinandrise Sengoku Horizon Rise of the Believers Indestructible Darkness LIGHT IT UP - A FIRE EMBLEM FATES INSPIRED ROLEPLAY The Almanac Effect SURFACE LIES Bleach Platinum Hearts For Queen & Crystal Topsy Turvy STORYBROOKE MAINE HORiZON Code 8 Aim for Tomorrow Ironside Welcome to the Apocalypse! Crucify THE PANTHEON: a multifandom RPG Save Me Shelf Space Yuri Roleplay


Avalon's Tumblr panda directory RPG-D Distant Fantasies Unbound Topsites - A Video Game RP Listing Ruby Wings Listings RPG Initiative Topsites a resource community


All of Me ♥ OHaV