Name: Mr. Bird
Soul: Montgomery Merriwether Munroe, the virtually unknown butler/comfort killer/butler (he's more of a butler than a comfort killer, you see), a joyfully amoral individual who offered his services to a great many rich widows in his life, and only killed, like, three of them (a record low among his peers) to get some money out of it when he didn't have any other ideas. He died at the age of 89 in his sleep after consuming an almost legendary amount of prescription medicine and hard liquor (after about six hours of... extreme exertion for someone his age), surrounded on his deathbed by much younger, better-looking women in a high-class establishment of considerable ill repute. They inherited a considerable portion of his estate, as outlined in his will written earlier that week.
Incarnation: Mr. Bird looks almost exactly like a
bearded vulture, to be perfectly honest, except at the end of his wings one can see small, clawed fingers that lead one to suspect he may secretly be some kind of dinosaur, disregarding the obvious fact that birds are, in fact, dinosaurs. For some reason he looks very expensive.
What you're good at: flying, extracting nutrients from tough bones, high altitude survival (physiologically speaking - if that's not specific enough, let's say resistance to oxygen deprivation in thinner than average air).
What you're bad at: blending in or looking inconspicuous, unless it's in a zoo.
Your Hopes: to chew on the bones of a dead god and extract their wonderful marrow, to soar to the highest mountains and to check if he can perhaps sire a brood in this strange afterlife. There has to be another bearded vulture around here somewhere, right? You may notice that Mr. Munroe has taken a great liking to his new form.
Your Fears: being old and useless, finding nothing in his search for greater thrills, having to butle again for some old hag until she kicks off or, ugh, he has to poison her for money.
What you need to survive: at least some bones with their marrow left untouched by other carrion eaters, but any old meat is probably fine. Water requirements are minimal.
What's in your pockets: he's got some bones he just broke open and then ate whole. They were his last good bones (a product of rather fine room service, he might add). He could probably produce them within the next day or so if he were appropriately motivated. He hasn't really got any pockets, though, though the option of putting some on his body is becoming increasingly appealing.
Author
Topic: The Infinite Heavens: More than one way to skin a cat. (Read 352028 times)