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Rukatin glares. Then stuffs his Revolver back into the bag. "I may not look it, But I'm half angel dumb ass. I'm not as weak as you think." And out from the bag comes a Black Sword. "Will this suffice?"

Rukatin sneers at him before opening the door and throwing his bag in. He then picks of his papers, folds them up and stuffs them into his back pocket. Getting in the back seat, he opens his duffle bag and begins pulling out equipment. A pistol goes into his duster, and a revolver into his...

Rukatin looks between them both. "...But you're both kids." He stops and stares into John's eyes. "No... you aren't deserving of that title anymore are you?" He relaxes his stance, but it's apparent he's still on guard.

Rukatin recoils. "Holy F**k!" His eyes glance to the bloody knife in his hand to the wound in John's chest. "You...should be dead." The knife briefly becomes covered in black flames before it vanishes into the folds of his duster. "Deadman...Explain."

Rukatin woophs as he never even saw it coming. Now laying face first against the asphalt, duffle bag dropped and papers fluttering on the ground in the breeze, he wisely does not struggle under John's knee. his mind whirls as he processes the information he was just given. "...Yeah, I got a...

Rukatin blinks at two people obviously younger than him walk (or roll) out of the building in front of him. And when one of them starts ordering him around and then walks away, Rukatin whirls around and grabs him roughly by the shoulder. "What The Hell is going on here?! Who the Hell are you...

When Rukatin received his transfer notice the only thing that went through his head was 'About damn time'. He'd been on standby for a month! Sure his contract meant he was still technically getting paid, but he joined the UN to kill monsters! It was just so boring sitting around. Sure it...

(This file has been... edited. Please ignore the comments written) - UN Official Name: Rukatin (Shortened to Ruk and rhymes with Fluke! Don't mispronounce it) Age: Unknown. Estimated early 30's to Mid 20's (Does it matter?) Gender: Male (You can tell by my generous bust) Race...

How about a main city full of industry, which is spreading out into a weasternish frontier?

Then it isn't a very adventure friendly world...

What would be the Lifespan on a Half-angel?

Sounds interesting!

I'm game.

Bump!

But everything else would be the same? Like the soul, equipment, previous skills, maybe magical powers? or would those be gone too?

Can it be an OC?

Hello it's me again. A couple weeks ago I said I would be running A Numenera Game. I lied. It turns out through a combination of Real life issues and a lack of creative juices, I can't. But I am willing to play. (And hopefully a few others are as well.) For those who don't know what Numenera is...

Israfil stops. He just looks at Angil and for a few moments, considers doing just what she said. "...You're going to die if you go out there. They're looking for you." He walks back over to the Sword on the wall and sighs. "Stay."

Israfil curses and paces back and forth. "Well at least you had a plan right?' He looks at her. "...There's no plan is there." he continues to storm back and forth. "You stole the GodDamned Trumpet and you didn't think what to do after?! Heaven's going to be looking for you and if Lucifer ever...

Israfil simply stares. "You stole what?!" He storms over, fire in his eyes. "What. Did. You. Do."