[/table]
[b]sheogorath
[b]and i say to myself, what a wonderful world
( tw for violence and death )

“I got a new disease in me, I got a friend that’s losing sleep.”

The music played gently into the ears of a red headed man, the source of which a solar powered ipod. It was peaceful, the day, sunlit warmth showering the exposed skin of pale arms. Dark leather boots pressed into the grit of the beach, crunching into the pearly granules to leave deep prints amidst the sand.

“I take it hard, it's hard to take, I'm wide awake, I'm wide awake.”

A seagull flew overhead, broad white wings unfurled, it’s shadow passing over the frame of Sheogorath as it shot through the golden atmosphere above. The day was a good one, he could tell, or at least, it was going to be. He felt good, somewhat anyways. He wasn't’ angry. He wasn’t all that sad. In fact, he was in a firmly neutral position on that day, not quite happy, of course, he hadn’t been happy all year, but it was close enough for his liking.

“I never needed a reason for keeping secrets from myself.”

Something shattered the serene air, something harsh and biting that seeped through the sound of the music in his earbuds, a bullet, the sound of a gun from the shadowed woods nearby. A flock of crows shot up from the trembling branches, their cawing cast across the beach as the sleek black avians ascended in the form of an ebony cloud. Sheogorath didn’t quite like the sound of what he had just heard, who would? But perhaps it was just someone practicing their shooting. With the potential for war, it was only natural that someone would want to train, but with the Insurrection about...well, what if it was them? What if they were attacking a Badlander? Sheogorath shouldn’t care, but he thought to himself, what if it was Link? Mike?

“I’ll wreck this if I have to, tell me what good would that do?”

Legs that had grown steadily muscular from consistent training swept into a blur as slender limbs carried Sheogorath across the sand at the pace of an uneven sprint, his limp slowing his progress, but he managed, digging his cane into the grit to drag himself along, his feet spraying sand with every rough step. Then, he was in the woods, beneath the shadow of the tree canopy, where sunlight rarely struck the dead, crunchy leaves.

“You get separated, somebody’s gone.”

The thought that a friend of his might have just been shot propelled Sheogorath deeper into the woodland, and without a thought, he snatched his handgun from it’s holster at his right side. Just in case, of course, as he crashed through the woods, he would no doubt be gathering attention from whatever waited for him in the sunlit shadows ahead. A twist around a particularly grand oak tree, and he was there. It took him only a brief moment to register what was happening. Mike had been shot, he was bleeding from the thigh, thick, hot, crimson blood that carried a coppery scent. Two men with guns stood over Michael, and they didn’t look all that friendly. Without hesitation, Sheogorath lifted his pistol, and fired.

“And I don’t know how this is wrong.”

The bullet struck the man in the face. He had been aiming for the chest. A lucky shot, he supposed, but he never had been any good with a gun. His enemy crumbled, missing their features, nothing but a bloody hole where their right eye should be. The second man lifted his own weapon, but he didn’t have much time to fire before Sheogorath threw himself at him, tossing his pistol to the grass. Something about the scene just made him so angry, angry at the world once more, angry at these people for shooting his friend, and that red hot, fiery rage shot through his heated veins in the form of pulsating adrenaline.

“There’s a difference from me to them.”

When Sheogorath struck, he was quick the knock the gun away with his cane, before dropping the carved wooden weapon and instead choosing a more personal approach. It wasn’t a thought he had considered, wrapping his hands uround the man’s throat as he thrust him to the ground, but he did it, and he squeezed. He felt his fingers dig into flesh as the man beneath him struggled, but Sheogorath had been training, sparring, growing stronger, and his grip was rock iron and harsh. A fist slammed into his ribs, again and again, and the effort rocked Sheogorath, but he didn’t let go. He just kept squeezing, and squeezing, tighter and tighter, until the struggles grew weak, and the man’s eyes bulged as he gasped in desperation before finally falling still.

“It’s getting better in the worst way. It’s getting better in the worst way.”

He didn’t know how to feel. Angry. That was at the forefront of him mind. Angry at these two men for attacking Mike. Angry at Mike for putting himself in the situation unarmed. Angry at Catalyst for causing all of this with the Insurrection in the first place. Angry at himself...angry at himself because...because he had just murdered two people, and because, deep down, no, perhaps not so deep, he had enjoyed it. Sheogorath unlocked his hands, and rose from the body on the ground, a bit shaky at first, before clenching his fist in rage until his knuckles turned white and his body shook. This was him. It would always be him. He couldn’t escape from it. He should have known.

“I like to push it and push it until my luck is over.”

Sheogorath turned to Michael, and there was a brimming hellfire exploding within his blazing amber eyes. They narrowed into dangerous daggers, flickering with tongues of furious flame. But he said nothing. All he did was breathe, chest rising and falling, in and out, in and out, that was his thought process. He hardly remembered that he had his music in until the beat of loud vocals dragged him back to reality. He ripped the earbuds from his ears, silencing the song, still trying to smooth his nerves.


[align=center]
information
[color=transparent]thes code

Re: thrill of the fight >> open : insurrection - CATALYST - 04-12-2019

[align=center][table]
[/table]
After recent events with the Insurrection and finding themself injured and too poorly armed to defend themself should Bones or Tyd attack them (with their only backup being people they didn't trust to actually back them up), they had decided to start carrying a gun. They absolutely hated it, hated the weight of it at their hip and hated the idea of using it, but they weren't willing to be caught needing it without having it.

And with the sound of gunfire echoing through the territory, they were rather glad to have it. Cat removed it from the holster at the first shot, and once they heard the second shot and were able to figure out where the noise was coming from, they reluctantly headed towards it. They weren't sure what they were expecting to find, but Mike bleeding out next to two bodies, Sheogorath standing over them with blazing eyes, definitely wasn't it.

"I don't get paid enough for this." They muttered, holstering their own gun once more. "Sheo. Go get Mord or Lucerne." Cat ordered, shrugging off their jacket and tossing off to the side, away from the scene. They weren't about to have that get all bloody, no fucking way. Not for Mike. Sorry. "You're a fugging idiot." They grumbled, crouching next to him and attempting to put their hands over the bullet wounds, hoping to stem the blood at least a little while they waited for a doctor to arrive. "I told you not to leave the city."

[spoiler=IF YOU DONT KNOW NOW YOU KNOW && INFO && 04/12/19]GENERAL  welcome to the end of eras, ice has melted back to life
⇥ Given name is Scott Mathew Darrow ⇥ Goes only by Catalyst or Cat
⇥ Assigned male at birth ⇥ Agender ⇥ They/Them pronouns only
⇥ Twenty-one ⇥ Born 11/27/17 ⇥ Sagittarius ⇥ Real time aging
⇥ Boss (leader) of the Badlands ⇥ Ex prisoner of the Badlands
⇥ Ex cultist (Mourningstar) ⇥ Ex member of the Young Rogues

RECENT EVENTS  done my time and served my sentence
⇥ 04/08/39 ⇥ Had a huge fight with Molly
⇥ 04/06/39 ⇥ Returned to the Badlands badly injured
⇥ 04/03/39 ⇥ Temporarily left with Creed to try to find her brother
⇥ 03/24/39 ⇥ Met their cousin Dallas and her half brother Michael

APPEARANCE  dress me up and watch me die
⇥ Catalyst is 6'2" tall; they possess a lean and muscular body, one that has a variety of old scars adorning it. They have two piercings, one in their tongue and the other in the cartilage of their left ear. They typically dress in dark colors (favoring jackets with some sort of writing on the back), and their hair is black. They're not all dark, however, as they have pale blue eyes that peer out from beneath medium-sized eyebrows.

PERSONALITY  if it feels good, tastes good, it must be mine
⇥ Catalyst is ambitious, with the cunning and ruthlessness to reach their goals by any means necessary. They can be brutal when they feel it is needed, however when it's not they won't bother. They tend to be rather aloof and apathetic to most things and people, with some very rare exceptions. Provided those around them don't cross a few specific lines, they're content to leave them be, though they've been known to take an interest in some people, which seldom has a positive end for whoever their interest is in. They can be manipulative, and will often encourage people to make bad decisions. Those that stick by them will be rewarded, but those that do not will be cast out, as they've been outcast for their entire life and have learned to appreciate loyalty wherever they can find it. Even during the most stressful of situations, they usually keep a firm grip on their temper and keep their calm, though when they do snap and lose their temper, it is uncontrollable. They're remarkably observant, often able to deign much from subtle clues in what people say, how they say it and how they act.

RELATIONS  dynasty decapitated, you just might see a ghost tonight
⇥ Molly Darrow x Austin Darrow ⇥ No siblings
⇥ Adopted parent of Molly Valentina Darrow-Lupei (Mo)
⇥ Pansexual/Panromantic ⇥ Very much taken ⇥ One Crush
⇥ Not looking but it happened ⇥ Rarely forms romantic attachment
⇥ Holds most people at arms length and doesn't get close

INTERACTION  i'm taking back the c r o w n
⇥ Hard physically ⇥ Hard mentally ⇥ Doesn't let their guard down
⇥ Is most comfortable with close ranged-weapons ⇥ Dislikes guns
⇥ Brass knuckles ⇥ A variety of knives ⇥ Blunt objects like bats
⇥ Will kill/capture/maim in certain circumstances
⇥ Will leave things be in others ⇥ Will start & finish fights
⇥ No kill/capture/maim without permission
⇥ Peaceful powerplay allowed but they may react negatively
⇥ Dislikes almost any sort of touch unless they initiate or agree to it
[/spoiler]

Re: thrill of the fight >> open : insurrection - LUCERNE. - 04-12-2019

— tw. blood & injury

Lucerne knew what the sound of a gunshot meant. Usually, it spelled trouble. Lucerne had once been shot, many years ago, in the abdomen. The agonizing pain seared through his flesh like a hot flash of fire burning him from the outside in. Oftentimes, guns were used to harm others - only last week Lucerne himself had to use a gun on somebody. The memory haunted him every moment since the attack, and he was fully aware that this traumatic memory would taint his soul from here on after.

And so, the sound of a gunshot nearby ringing through his ears signaled to Lucerne that something had gone terribly wrong. Lucerne perked his head up, from the work he'd actually been doing outside of his bedroom. Next, another gunshot - something terrible was happening. Lucerne swallowed hard, eyebrows furrowed as he raised to his feet, swiftly entering his room and throwing his rucksack over his shoulder. His rucksack, stocked neatly with the supplies he'd collected from the Badlands to work on his role as a medic - finally, Lucerne was beginning to feel a sense of purpose here. Perhaps he didn't have to walk out on them like the dramatic thoughts that his head were telling him to many times before.

Finally, he trotted out, searching for where the commotion was taking place. He'd not quite known where the gunshots were fired from, but some NPCs who did know pointed him in the correct direction. He slowed as he approached the several people stood around, eyes flitting about suspiciously to ensure no more fighting was to take place. He hesitated for a moment upon noticing the two dead bodies, before nodding to himself and uttering to nobody in particular, "Neat..." Next, eyes wandered over to Mike who had an evident laceration to the thigh.

"I assume that the other two gentlemen don't need assistance." He gestured over to the two corpses, flitting his cold gaze at Cat, silently searching for permission to treat before he crouched down beside Mike, scratching through his rucksack. "Continue to put pressure over the wound like that." He ordered Cat before next turning to look at Mike. "Lay on your back. Leg raised above the heart." With that, he pushed this rucksack beneath Mike's leg to keep it raised once he'd removed the items in the bag that he needed to use to treat the wound. He wasn't going to ask what happened... Though, the man was surely curious.

[align=center][div style="width: 400px; text-align: justify; font-family:raleway; font-size: 12px;"][spoiler=tags :: updated 3/29]basics.
⫸ wilhelm lucerne nouvel // no known nicknames
⫸ goes by his middle name, lucerne
⫸ male // he/him
⫸ thirty three // ages real time // born fourteenth february
⫸ member of the badlands // formerly a loner
⫸ joined BL - twenty first february
⫸ currently a worm. unofficial medic.

appearance.
⫸ faceclaim - benedict cumberbatch
⫸ voice claim - benedict cumberbatch
⫸ speaks with a received pronunciation british accent
⫸ 6'2ft // tall and lithe // very little muscle mass
⫸ cold, china blue eyes and disheveled, dark brunet hair
⫸ physical health - 75%
    — current injuries: broken humerus & healing wounds across throat and cheek
⫸ mental health - 70%
    — traumatized after discovering his brother's slaughtered corpse several weeks ago
    — has been showing signs of major depressive disorder

personality.
⫸ enigmatic and difficult to understand
⫸ astute and intellectual // generally very logical in his way of thinking
⫸ self-absorbed and overly prideful // massive god complex
⫸ lack of empathy and often insincere // evident sociopathic tendencies
⫸ assertive, blunt and arrogant // strong, unwavering opinions
⫸ analytical and perceptive // often good at figuring things out at breakneck speed
⫸ overly motivated and stubborn // it's often his way or the highway
⫸ chronic boredom, often acts out childishly based on this
⫸ fastidious and a known perfectionist
⫸ unpredictable and notably unhinged // makes it difficult to get on with him
⫸ a total narcissist in many ways
⫸ aloof and incredibly socially awkward // very antisocial in general
⫸ a complete drama queen // incredibly theatrical and melodramatic
⫸ breathes sarcasm // snide and often witty with his quips
⫸ silently a very sensitive and introverted soul // worries about what others think
⫸ self-conscious towards how people react towards him // this makes him withdrawn

relationships.
⫸ wilhelm nouvel x annette nouvel // one older brother [deceased]
⫸ aromantic asexual // not interested in any romance
⫸ has taken a liking towards addy douglas
    — sees him as his person
    — doesn't view their relationship as romantic
    — loyalty lies with him entirely

interaction.
⫸ storage // plot
⫸ physically: medium // mentally: hard
⫸ owns a pistol but finds the idea of injuring somebody very difficult
⫸ dislikes getting into physical fights as he's not very good at fighting
⫸ would much rather die than kill somebody else
⫸ will be acting out of character as he is still grieving over the loss of his brother
⫸ TW. he is an active drug addict // cocaine, heroin and opioids such as morphine
    — some interactions with him may be whilst he is under the influence of said drugs

[/spoiler]


Re: thrill of the fight >> open : insurrection - MICHAEL. - 04-14-2019

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[div style="borderwidth; width: 400px; padding: 1px; text-align: justify; color: #4B3E2D; line-height: 14px; font-size: 11pt; font-family:timesnewroman"]"speech"'thought' text
tw: mentions alcohol, blood, profanity, violence, religion

Michael had been shot in the leg, and while it wasn't the most comfortable feeling, he could easily argue that worse had happened to him, far too easily. In fact, as far as getting injured went, a shot through the leg was preferable to one elsewhere. However, he was not entirely prepared for what was to follow. That being, Sheo appearing out of nowhere, shooting one of his assailants, Xi (he didn't actually see the man get shot, but he heard the body thud to the ground). And then launch himself at Dawson, wrapping his fingers around the man's throat and squeezing.

The dark haired man lay on the ground, his back prodded by assorted ground cover, a pinecone maybe, he wasn't actually sure, and he didn't quite feel like rolling over to find out, go figure. The man groaned softly, his eyes closing, the blood was flowing freely from his leg, the bullet had gone in and out, and it didn't seem like there was too much damage, not that he was the best judge of that, but it certainly hadn't hit bone, or he would have noticed.

Cat was reaming them out, while applying pressure to the wound, which was nice of them he supposed, though why the boss couldn't just let him bleed out was beyond him. The man winced in pain at the sudden pressure on his leg, perhaps too uncomfortable to notice that Cat had nixed their jacket before coming to his aid. If he had noticed he might have found it amusing, but he had not, ah well, the things he missed when he got shot.

"Sorry boss." Mike groaned, his face a touch pale from the rapid loss of blood, despite the fact the bullet hadn't hit a blood vessel, he had still lost a decent amount of blood, and while Cat was stemming most of the blood, it wasn't all of it. Lucerne appeared, and Mike groaned inwardly, just what he needed, another knowitall doctor telling him what to do. Didn't matter if the doctor was right, he didn't care, he didn't want to listen.

Then again, if he didn't, someone would probably make him do it anyways, so what was the point. Grunting in compliance, he did as was told, rolling more onto his back and lifting his leg best he could, though fuck if it wasn't difficult. "You know, usually when a guy tells me to lay on my back, I'm in a completely different situation." He muttered unhappily.

grimmoon
thrill of the fight >> open : insurrection - Printable Version

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thrill of the fight >> open : insurrection - MICHAEL. - 04-10-2019

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[div style="borderwidth; width: 400px; padding: 1px; text-align: justify; color: #4B3E2D; line-height: 14px; font-size: 11pt; font-family:timesnewroman"]"speech" 'thought' text
tw: mentions alcohol, blood, profanity, violence, religion
OOC: wait for Sheo to post first please. xoxoxo

Mike had been somewhat trepidatious about being weaponless with the newly prodded insurrection around and probably looking to take revenge on Cat and Creed. The two most likely hadn't covered their tracks in their escape, so the probability of his old group coming back for revenge was higher than he would have liked. It didn't help that he had some serious past with them, and a bit of negative history that if dredged up would probably lead to a miserable rest of his life, they wouldn't kill him quickly he knew.

He wasn't certain if he should just hole himself up in his seaside shack and wait for the inevitable, or continue on with whatever he had left of his life, because it seemed to him that they'd find him either way. He hadn't exactly kept a low profile, especially not if his son could so easily track him down, at least it was his son, and not someone seeking to remove his head from his shoulders, as much as he'd thank them for that.

He was in the woods near the beach, the sun was barely above the ocean, it was honestly a beautiful day, or it would have been, he'd been aware of a presence nearing him, but while he had been concerned there wasn't really anything he could do about it, seeing as he was unarmed and even if it was a hostile foe, as long as it was less than say... four, he'd probably make out alive, not good, but alive.

The dark haired man heard the snap of a branch and with a swift turn of his head, he realized it was too late to do anything, the broad shoulders of a soldier, he looked older than he had when Mike had first known him, but time and age had not changed him all that much, the gun pointed directly at him was in the hands of an expert, Mike knew that there wasn't much chance at this range that he'd be able to get out of this situation... just yet.

He knew Dawson, Dawson knew him, "Keep your hands where I can see them." Mike's hands wavered, and he moved his hands slowly to his head, three more steps forwards and Mike could knock the guy down, disarm him, and have the advantage, "In case you were thinking about making a move, Xi's behind you with a shotgun pointed directly at the back of your head." As much as he wanted to swivel, Mike knew that doing so would probably lead to a big fat hole in the middle of his occipital lobe.

"Hey Dawson, Xi, Devilish Duo back to its old tricks?" Despite the fact he was faced with almost certain death, or at least being dragged back to the Insurrection to stand trial for everything he'd done to screw them over, which, if he had to calculate would take a lot of time to chronicle, so they might just shoot him. He'd made a lot of enemies in his past, not all of them in the Insurrection, but a lot of them.

It appeared that his two former army buds were part of that now, he wasn't surprised, neither of them had been the most upstanding citizens back in their army days. His hands were on his head, and he clenched his jaw there didn't seem to be an easy way out of this, though there were rarely easy ways out of anything. He sighed softly, his eyes flickering to the side as he tried to catch a glimpse of Xi's motions from his peripheral vision.

"Now, we were following some other people back here, people who killed a lot of our soldiers, one of which you used to care about a lot I think," Mike knew who he was talking about, of course he did, John, Creed's little brother. Mike swallowed back the urge to spit something back. "Tell us where they are, and I'm sure that Brain will much more lenient with you, even after all the shit you pulled." Mike felt his lip curl, of course Brian was in charge.

Were they going to continue talking? Or did Mike just have to prolong the uncomfortable silence because he didn't want to talk? "Well?" Mike shifted his weight from one knee to the next. "I know you love playing hard to get Ford, but this? You've clearly forgotten how to play the game." Mike watched as Dawson's free hand raised, if only he could get a sight on Xi he'd be able to deflect and use Dawson as a shield, but Xi know that, and was staying out of Mike's vision.

The back of the man's hand met with his face with a loud smack, and Mike rocked sideways from the impact, righting himself, he rolled his tongue over his gums and spat on the ground. "What makes you think I know shit? I'm just here, minding my own fucking business trying to survive in this fucked up world, and you two jump me and start asking me questions about some fucktards who decided to cross you?"

Perhaps it was ill advised to break his silence, but whenever had Mike done anything that was actually well advised for a change? "We know more than you think Ford, word travels. The Badlands? Heard of it? Yeah, well they heard of you," Dawson's voice was taunting, and he laughed, and though Mike's jaw was clenched there were many words he wanted to spit out. "Now, I know, and you know, that the Insurrection has made some questionable choices in the past, some that maybe you disagreed with, like when DJ sent that pet project of yours off to die because you were getting way to attached to Will's little brat."

Mike could feel his hackles rising, despite where he was at, relationship wise with Creed, he always felt the need to protect her, and anything against her was more potent than a gun to his head. "Oh, so that got to you, and you do know who we're talking about. For a second I though you were going senile in your old age." His laugh was unpleasant, and Mike briefly regretted pulling his ass out of the crumbling building years ago, not worth it to bring that up now. "The only reason you're not dead already is because of what happened in Korea." Oh, so it was worth bringing up, "Is that all?"

No, he shouldn't have talked, he should have stayed silent, god, he wasn't good at this anymore, not when these people knew so much about him, knew how he ticked, god if Cat got ahold of any of the information these two had, they'd have a grip so steel on him that he'd never be able to break it. "Honestly, I think it was that little brat of Will that did it, she ended up killing her own brother though, so... the bitch got what she deserved." Mike swallowed back a retort, and stared up at Dawson his fingers itching to strangle the life out of the man.

"Look, even if I did know anything about these people, why would I tell you? I'm dead either way, so why should I talk about people that I may or may not even know? It doesn't seem like a logical decision to be made, and Forbes definitely trained you better. Maybe you should go back to him, and ask him how you can come back from this fucking mess you made!" Antagonization, make them angry, make them irrational then catch them off guard... might be the only weapon he had right now. And if he could just get Xi to make a noise...

"Oh, Forbes is dead, shot the bastard myself, it was so fucking satisfying." Mike shuddered to think about his old mentor being shot by Dawson, sure there were times when he wanted to punch the man, but Forbes had been a good guy, had tried to give Mike a second chance, though that had turned out terribly, very terribly. "Well, shoot me now, I'll see you in hell." He replied seemingly unperturbed.

Dawson just laughed unpleasantly and slammed the but of the gun into the side of Mike's head, while he had expected something to happen the shock of the impact still hurt like hell, and sent him rocking into the ground on his side, hands unable to stem his fall, "Now. Tell us about this Cat thing, and maybe you can die quickly. If not, I know every little thing that scares you, and I sure as hell will make you watch Creed die slowly, painfully, before you finally get what you deserve."

Mike felt a shudder run through his body, the mention of Creed, the idea of having to watch her die, he wasn't thinking straight, he rocked forward knocking Dawson off balance, "The fucktard Cat you want so bad? They're a stupid, idiotic kid with a god complex who think they're invincible, and make stupid fucking choices even though they KNOW it'll get other people hurt, you really want this Cat guy? They'll come to you." He had just finished his sentence when a gunshot sounded around them, and the sting of a bullet brought them to their senses.

It hadn't hit anything major, hell it had just gone in and out of his lower thigh, but god it hurt. But he knew where Xi was at least, though he had two guns pointed at him now, "Go ahead and kill me, like I killed DJ, like DJ had Will killed."

Re: thrill of the fight >> open : insurrection - Sheogorath - 04-10-2019

[align=center][table]
thes code
a
a
——[abbr=Lost Innocence]⊡[/abbr]——
——[abbr=Learned Brutality]⊡[/abbr]——
——[abbr=Forced Distance]⊡[/abbr]——
——[abbr=Innate Ruthlessness]⊡[/abbr]——
——[abbr=Newfound Connection]⊡[/abbr]——