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| DankeDemigod
DankeDemigod
♂️
[12516174]
[2009-12-27 10:12:52 +0000 UTC]
"Gott sei dank Oser!"
(Germany)
# Statistics
Favourites: 4; Deviations: 5; Watchers: 64
Watching: 87; Pageviews: 4731; Comments Made: 75; Friends: 87
# Interests
Favorite movies: Otesánek. Made me shed a tear. Macskafogó never gets old, either.Favorite bands / musical artists: Eight. Oh. Eight. State.
Favorite games: Oh, fuck. Er, Kirby Super Star's one of 'em.
Favorite gaming platform: The Famicom! That's the NES to you other folk.
Tools of the Trade: Icarus. She dices arms AND cheese cubes.
Other Interests: Sex...and, um, nerdy shit. Slayin' monsters, WoW-style, with a higher chance of getting laid.
# About me
I'm up in yer city, killin' yer beasties.((Don't listen to him. He's a derpface.
Age: 24
Gender: Male
Race: Demigod reject--a superhuman turned down at the epitome of his godly training, now stuck in a mythological limbo.
A lanky, slightly tanned, unkempt sucker of a man, seemingly unaffected by his supposed years of discipline (mentally and physically). He’s the kind of guy you want to sock in the nuts for wearing a turtleneck in the dead of summertime. He dons a foresty green bomber jacket with short sleeves, along with a pair of horn-rimmed glasses. His nose is crooked—like, Owen Wilson crooked, a very unflattering type of crooked. He has a penchant for slacks and winged shoes, making him appear to be the fugly spawn of the messenger god Hermes and a middle-class yuppie. Golden eyes rest under short, wispy brown bangs, and long sideburns cover the side of his face. Speaking of his face, he also has a signature grin that is known to frighten little girls. His weapon of choice is the Staff of Icarus, also known as the Sun, Propeller, and the Fan of Doom. In actuality, it resembles a cosplay prop more than it does an ancient weapon, though its track record of dismembered limbs and dead bounties say otherwise. It's a cheaply-painted stick with a circular head attached, and on this head are five large blades akin to a child's battery-powered portafan. The staff may be retracted into the head, turning the weapon into a bladed throwing disc.
A bit o' history: Birthed from the antics of a drunken god and a desperate German heiress, Oser's destined godhood was not immediately apparent. The obscure nature of his father's immortality--god of polygamy, calendars, and water spouts--was not exactly marveled within the mythological community. His wife, sweet as could be, didn't mind. After all, not only could she claim that she screwed a god, but the god of calendars? Unmatched.
Young Oser, however, proved to be far from impressed. The overland of Shokulon never expected much from the boy; his weak eyesight killed any expectations, earning him ridicule from his fellow gods-in-training. With rage eating away inside of him, he sought the will to fight, and to learn, and to reach for greatness as overland clashed with underworld, maintaining the balance of Shokulon City itself. Awed by the armories and ancient war rooms, he became skilled in handbuilding and used his experience to repair battered instruments. Eventually, he created innovative weaponry to suit himself in his training and studies. This talent was especially recognized during his guardian tests. He opted to fight without sight enhancers--magic was for pansies, and glasses? naw--relying more on his hearing and demigod instincts as advantages. Things were definitely looking up: this was undoubted. This was rather nice and all, yes, but it all became so very...boring. He wasn't finding his soulmate any time soon, either, and because all demigods were born with one and maturity was a bitch, it was questing time.
To cut things short, Oser whisked himself away to the real world, our world--or, to be more specific, an alternate, culturally-confused take on our world. The mortal world. (It is also noteworthy that he, grudgingly, invested in a pair of glasses.) Shokulon City, with all her skyscrapers and inter-dimensional portals and monstrous Gojira rip-offs, was a world that tickled his fancy, one where he could cut up a beast and get recognition for the deed. It was tough going, but the reward was oh-so sexy that the good nearly always outweighed the bad.))
Current Residence: Your pants.
Favourite genre of music: ACID, techno, DnB, dubstep, chillout, progressive styles, some pop on a good day.
Favourite photographer: What was that guy's name? Weegee? To think he's nothin' but an Intertoob meme now.
Favourite style of art: Anything messy. Comic style with grit.
Operating System: Solaris in the back, Linux 2.6 in the front, OS X Leopard for in-betweeners.
MP3 player of choice: An Archos duct taped to a gramophone.
Shell of choice: Koopa. More specifically, King Koopa, 'cos that fucker stole my woman.
Wallpaper of choice: Something ghey and pervy~
Skin of choice: Hania's. <3 Baby, where'd you go?
# Comments
Comments: 25
*An extremely tall blond haired man suddenly appeared in the kitchen. He was dressed in a black military uniform that totally doesn't resemble a Nazi one. Magnus probably came from a boring yet mandatory meeting with the elf council. He was craving to have fun. His idea of fun was playing his guitar. The elven stepped into the living room. A notebook was in his gloved hand.*
👍: 0 ⏩: 1
Catching the shadow of a figure in his peripheral vision, Oser nearly spluttered his drink. He'd seen elves, and he'd seen Nazis, but putting the two together was like introducing Legolas to Hitler. Mayhaps he should introduce himself, play the polite card, take a chance with a bit of social suicide. The demigod noted the book in the taller man's grasp, then shook his head at the thought, easing himself into the plush sofa.
Fuck that.
He went about inspecting the blades of Icarus, though she was still clean as she ever was. As long as he had an excuse to shut up.
((Icarus being his staff/baby, derp derp!))
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((Thanks. You killed me. xDD))
*Hearing the spluttering of drink, he takes notice to the demigod's presence. Magnus pauses by the stair case and stares over at Oser curiously. Who do we have here? A demi-god? Definitely a demigod. He remembers being educated on these people. He never thought that he'd see one in the flesh,though. The then elf decides to say one of the most common lines ,starting with silence.*
"..........Hey you."
*His voice was deep and booming.Geesh What to you expect from a man who's seven foot eight? A voice like Mickey Mouse? Yeah, if he got kick in the nuts really hard.*
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((Lmfao, same with you!))
Oser grimaced, tightening up the way that twelve-year-olds seemed to do all the time, except not quite, because that would be perverted and wrong. He swallowed his whiskey with pride, glancing at the freakish man giant, hating him for being so freakishly tall. And speaking--definitely speaking. More importantly, speaking as if they'd met before.
He almost gave the elf the satisfaction of hearing him laugh, but Oser suppressed it. This was freakin' ridiculous. He stood with Icarus in hand, loose yet firm, for the odd case that Sasquatch here got a bit too close. The demigod smirked, condescending. "I wasn't expecting shit, seein' as I hoped for the both of us to shut the fuck up. I'm not in the friendly mood, if you couldn't tell already."
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*Magnus wasn't going to move from his spot anyway. He stared over at the demi-god then sighed deeply. Maybe he should have chose his words more wisely.*
Will you unhand your weapon? I really prefer if we settle this without getting into a fight. Look, my brain was fried by politics,so I couldn't think of anything clever to say. Sorry if I came off as rude.
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"HEY, I'VE SEEN THAT BEFORE. Funny shit, ain't it?"
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Nico slowly puffed out a cloud of smoke, looking the new guy up and down slowly. Strange, yes, but not terribly bad looking. Taking another drag on her cigarette, she addressed him: Hey. You new here?
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Watching her instantly made him fish his pockets for a smoke. Oser found one, but no lighter to support it, which caused him to pout quite bitchily indeed. He eyed her with a sort of curious intent as she spoke, drawn to her features and the possibility that she had a light. A pretty face always carried a light. "Guess ya could say that, stranger. You wouldn't mind showin' me a little kindness, eh?" he asked with a smirk, holding out his lonely cigarette.
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Nico smirked and took out a lighter, showing him a little kindness. Another smoker in the house was always good for her, since it meant that she wasn't the only one getting bitched out about it. It also didn't hurt that he was eying her, boosting her ego. "There you are, new guy. Always willing to help out." She held out a hand, that trademark smirk of hers still on her lips. "Name's Nico. Nice to meet you, new guy."
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How convenient. Second encounter in this place'd already granted him with a cancer stick buddy, and a nice-looking one at that. He graciously accepted the lighter and set his cigarette aflame, puffing twice before nodding as she spoke. "Heh, that's a beautiful quality. Thanks for the support, stranger."
Nico. He had always been better at recalling faces than namers, but he figured that such an odd moniker, along with that uniquely Asian facade, wouldn't be too hard to remember: "Alrighty then, stranger," he replied, shaking the offered hand with a firm grip. "Call me Oser. It's weird shit, I know, but you can blame the whole German thing for that. Now..."
Oser paused and glanced up and down the halls, listening out for any signs of life within the house. "Do me another favor and tell me where the hell I am. A tour round here wouldn't be so horrible."
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Nico simply gave him a smirk at the compliment. "Not much that's pretty about me, but okay."
She gave him a firm nod, patting him on the back. "Pleasure to meet you, Oser. Hey, it's not as strange as some of the other names here, trust me."
Once again she smirked. "It would be a great honor to give you a tour."
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A coyote walked behind him, sniffing at his heels to try to figure out what the hell he was. She blinked a few times, her ears forward, and she made a soft bark to get his attention. She was hoping he'd stop so she could sniff him better, and place a name to his species... ((Hola-ness!))
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He'd scented her before he heard her, a ballsy, smelly smell of savagery and raw instinct. Could've been a beggar, he thought initially, quickening his pace with a scowl. Could've been a whore. Hardly any of the two were known barkers, despite how rabid they could be, and he halted in his tracks, turning on his heels to face his follower.
Oser blinked like a retard. Looking down at the dog, wolf, coyote...whatever brought forth urges to ask if Timmy was trapped in the barn, Lassie style, but he merely frowned. "Yeah? You want somethin'?" he asked, arms crossed. "There's this thing called subtlety, and frankly, you ain't got it."
Yep, he was talking to a mutt. Hooray for insomnia.
((Bonjournoism! : D))
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The coyote tilted her head, a curious question in her eye. She wagged her tail some, and her ears drooped a tad. She sat down, looking up at him expectantly.
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Okay, so that was a start--a totally half-assed one, but a start nonetheless. He watched it do those doggy things it did so well, and he soon realized that it was out for...something. But for what? Out of all the titles under his belt, he was no mind reader. Oser crouched in front of it, arching an eyebrow. "Sure, that's real helpful. Now what the hell do you want?"
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The coyote barked at him again, and finally, giving up, she shifted. She summoned some clothes after her shift hoping she didn't bare all in front of a new person. She tilted her head at him, feeling funny. "What..are you..?" She asked, her hand reaching for her other arm and grasping it above the elbow. Her shoulder length black hair falling to one side. She was frowning at him, he smelled funny...and...she was feeling...weird...she blinked at him.
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As it--she, dammit--shifted forms, he only gawked slightly at the dark-haired woman that took shape, then frowned as you'd expect one to frown when discovering a cloudy blip in the weather forecast. No biggie, perhaps, just a tad annoying. He shifted to his other foot and chuckled when she spoke, replying with a delayed, "Tch, coulda asked you the same. But I've met a few of your type before. Curious bastards."
Too curious, maybe. He wasn't fond of the way she was checking him out. That he'd been talking to a dog before didn't help, either. "You're not gonna believe me, but I'll tell ya anyway: I'm a demigod. Half god, half mortal, all that snazzy shit. Happy now?"
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Liz smirked at him, amused. No Highly amused.
"Well if you know so much, then what am I?" She crossed her arms, her smirk growing as she quirked a brow at him. Boy she was cocky today.
"Demi-god? Really?" She was slightly interested in this bit of information,and her shoulders relaxed some. She sniffed the air, memorizing the scent. She hadn't known what demi-god smelled like, but now that she did she filed ti away with the rest of the scents.
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"That's a little obvious, gal," he said, shrugging, and paced closer toward her. Oser circled her like a passive hunter, searching for any distinctive marks that might have been visible on her body; it was the work of pervs, yeah, but he'd be damned if he didn't read that smirk of hers as a challenge. Must've been her feral mentality striking a chord with him. "I can't be too sure on what type, but you're one of them native shifters, aren't ya? Real tribal in a sense. Wouldn't be surprised if you had a totem animal or something."
He was talking completely out of his ass now, but it was worth a shot. Straightening, he added, "And yeah, you heard me. That explains why you've gone scent happy. Do I smell bad or what?" He imitated her, sniffing the air. "You know, I'm not too fond of the smell of dog, either."
👍: 0 ⏩: 1
Liz growled, "A.) I am no dog B.) You're new, so is your smell. I'm just cataloging. C.) You're kinda correct. I'm a Navajo witch, and the animal is more of a symptom than my totem animal." She cocked her hip to the side, a slight frown making it's way to the corners of her smirk. She made sure her back wasn't to him, she was suspicious that it was just to make a pass. She crossed her arms, and blew a few strands of hair from her view. She was surprised she hadn't hacked it off by now, but if it kept up she would.
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He guised his impatience with a soft laugh, fairly amused by the pouty reactions she made. He'd lay off the jests for now; a girl like that'd have his ass before he knew it, and he couldn't afford butting heads just yet, not in this unexplored territory. "Okay, I'm sorry," he said, exaggerating just how "sorry" he truly was. "You're no dog, I smell like foreigner shit, and you're a Navajo witch--I get it, it's cool. No need to get all worked up, okay? Sheesh."
Introductions, that was it. They were still stranded in strangerland, all talk and no sense. If he was to be sheltered here for a while, then familiarizing with the locals--no matter how freakish--wouldn't hurt. And damn, he was hurtin'. "Anyways, I think we're gettin' off on the wrong nut. Name's Oser." He held out his hand, reluctantly at first, and grinned. "Obviously, I'm new, and I'd like to be directed to a bed as soon as possible. Getting here was a bit of an...accident, but we'll cover that later."
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She eyed the hand hesitantly before taking it,and with a firm grip she shook it and let go, "Elizabeth Smith, but everyone around here calls me Liz. Where are you from? I'm assuming it's from another dimension of sorts," She pulled her hair into a ponytail, a hair band appearing in her hand. Enough about smells stupid She frowned at herself.
"Ah you haven't found a room yet? Follow me then.." Liz made her way up the stairs, and turned into the hall, walking slowly so he could easily follow. She nibbled on her lip. Something about him wasn't right...She felt that behind his little guise there were synapses firing off in that furred head of his. She didn't like it at all, she made fidgeting motions out of nervousness.
What could a demi-god do? That thought made her smile just a tad, ceasing to nibble her lip. Her curiosity always got the best of her, she wanted to know the extent of his powers. "So you're here with just the clothes on your back, and whatever else is in hand..? " She tried at some small talk, she didn't want to be best buds forever, and she was sure Magnus would probably have some issues, but she wasn't worried. With the new Weres and Vincent she was as protected as a humble lil witch could get.
She quirked her brow at that thought, okay maybe not humble but she was damned helpful. Not many had the teaching of magic that Liz had, her knowledge was extensive, but only because of her blood, and her lineage. If she was born elsewhere she was sure she'd have been human. Lucky me She peeked over her shoulder at Oser, wondering what was shooting through that mind.
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