Name: Propman, The
Appearance: A spry young lad of a short, thin, yet muscled physique, endowed with pale ecru skin, two brown eyes that are perpetually squinted so as to be impossible to discern from a polite space away, and dark hair which you would have a hard time telling between brown and black, parted both ways in an asymmetric fashion. Claims to be a young adult of at least 19-23, but one could easily mistake him for a child from a distance. He has a medium-pitch voice that possesses a bizarre accent that is best described as a mixture between RP English and standard American.
Inventory: A brown, somewhat worn leather tricorne worn on his person at all times is his foremost possession. Other clothing includes a puffy cotton buccaneer shirt with many, many strings tied into bows dangling form it, a pair of light brown trousers likely also fashioned of cotton, two white cotton socks pulled almost up to knee length, two medium-height brown leather boots that show quite some wear on them, a brown cotton greatcoat that is two sizes two large for a person his size and awkwardly fashioned tight onto him using a light-brown army-surplus web belt (comes with an aluminum canteen!), making it appear somewhat robe-like, and a birch walking stick with a steel letter opener (that was obviously fashioned itself from a horseshoe, smithed and reshaped into its current form) crudely nailed and tied onto it with copious amounts of leather and twine in order to function as a spear. He also carries a Viscounti® brand leather courier bag to his side that contains a sketch book with a mechanical 0.7 mm pencil and eraser, as well as a copy of "Esbach, Third Edition", and fist-sized bright red d20 forged of plastic.
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║ You awaken in a strange corridor.║
╚══════════════════════════════════╝The three-cornered hat tumbled from his crown upon the Propman's abrupt landing onto the large glass pad, narrowly saving his head from being bruised in the process. Nevertheless, the sudden jolt produced by the alien machine that served as his cushion woke the fellow well, causing him to instinctively get into a kneeling position and swiftly grab and reapply his headgear in a single movement.
"Searching... ... ... Recommended class... ... ... "Adventurer". "Ignoring the blaring noise that seemed to be coming from no discernible direction, Propman stood up fully in order to take a look at his surroundings, noticing that he was apparently suspended above some type of crude obstacle course,
or a rather clean section of a sewer.
"Urk... *cough* Ello'? Anyone-"Before he spoke too loudly, however, he checked back to his mind. The first thing that came into his mind was the fact that he couldn't remember what the heck he was doing prior to waking up here. Surely nobody actually spends their time knocking out random blokes and dressing them up as adventurers and-
Glancing at himself, Propman noticed that he was dressed up in the set of gear he had accumulated over the years in the vain hope that he might somehow find the particular set of clothing useful in some kind of obscene adventuring situation. His friends always thought the coat in particular looked down right silly on him, yet he insisted that it gave him the look of a
professional woodsman, and that it certainly matched his hat much better then those lousy striped 80s shirts he usually wore prior.
His thoughts turned back to his immediate surroundings, looking around for any obvious exits. The corridor went forward, and it would appear that there were doors in the distance, but his near-sightedness combined with his lack of glasses (why couldn't the hobos who apparently dragged him here put on
those?) made it difficult to tell for sure. He felt the stings of panic attempting to strike at him from the back of his head.
Where was he, and how would he get out!? He gripped onto his homemade polearm in order to reassure himself (even though he was fairly uncertain if it would actually hold up in the case of conflict), and took a deep breath. Heck, he's been lost in forests, second world shanty towns, and
goddamn Vegas before,
how hard could navigating this sewer dungeon possibly be?
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Topic: If Forumites were stuck in an RPG... (Act 1: The Adventure Begins...) (Read 55623 times)