P O I S O N   S A V E S   B L O O D.

- Heinrich Wilhelm Schultz, The Cleanser.

FC - Justice Joslin 

        

The Serpent, a reptile of intellect and utter intelligence, whose bite is significant and worthy of a praise, for it does not halt its own stampede once it has latched on to its variable host. Its poison harbors the toxins of an elegance that deprives its subject of life, of the essence to hold within the desires and longings of passion and fervency. Hold not its rattling, constant rebounding, nor its fangs and talons of oppression, nor its defined and riveted textures of delight and delicacies. Once it grasps your soul, it does not remove itself from the victim.

Fear The Serpent, loathe it, esteem it, treasure its sins and demands.

Fear not its bite, fear not its strength, fear not its camouflage, fear not its boundaries.

Abstain yourself from its commands.

Never let yourself be perceived by its Spheroids of Slits.

Comprehend that no Tree of Malevolence or Benevolence shall ever surpass that of The Serpent between its branches.

Consume its venom, drink its nectar of comprehension, savor its teeth, never dispose of its carcass.

Favor its agility, its demeanor, its astounding negligence before fright.
Accept and welcome the arrival of its beloved instinct.

Heinrich's spirit animal is that of a snake. A snake is the representation of the Devil in the Bible, a reptile capable of strangulation and poisonous bites; these reptiles, in general, consider themselves to be incredibly superior to other beasts because of how selective they can be when it comes to engagements. Given how intelligent they are, they often outsmart their foes, even when outmatched.

Heinrich plays by these rules. He analyzes, devises a plan and then strikes at his target's weaknesses.


   

 

There existed a Pacifist, a melancholic individual,

A Man of Gentility, whose Echoes of Remorse bestowed him of a Burden.

He had persisted in Wars of F utilities, in Wagers of Conflicts, in Benevolences of Malevolences,

For he had been whispered, by such a damsel, of a rigorous benefit, yet so, after a Period,

No man could ever recognize his own Tyranny.

- J.S.

Quotidian behavior;

A  G E N T L E M A N   O F   T H O U G H T

1994

To think was to ponder, yet to ponder was to analyze. It was a surreal manifestation of incomprehensible attitudes, the life of a human being that went by the accordance of the name of Heinrich. He was weak-minded, ill-minded, corrupted, yet also superficially wounded as a figure of exemplification. No man could cope with a mind like his own, nor could a female envisage herself within his orbs for even the merest of seconds. He thought of what others had regarded as the unthinkable, as the imponderable, as enigmas embedded and intertwined with each other, awaiting the examination of one who had ventured from the depths of an unknown crevice situated between malignancy and benevolence. It was a carefully stitched wound, that of his mother, a memory long-forgotten, grasped as remembrance only in circumstances that allowed it.

What came next, was only the arrival of Hell.

N O  P E A C E.

If one thought, one could profess a truth when there was none! If one thought, one could participate in the bewilderment of others! If one thought, if Heinrich Schultz thought, one could potentially infect the wound that he had concealed from sight! Alas, there was no thought, no analysis, no credible hypothesis, not a singular sign of a conclusion, for the man that thought was none other than a devil flustered by the presence of others. A hand twitched, a lip was smeared of crimson, a lie was issued, and so the intentions of the man of thought were informed to the public.

All this blubber and the confusion persists

in the abstraction that is the mind.

He was a disaster, a chaotic outcome with no resolution, a spiraling flame that ended in no submissive gust. The incongruity was ravenous and ferocious, but so was the ambience that had surrounded him. It had all led to this very moment of change, of passion, of adjustment, of maturity, a moment he had not forgotten in the lands that he had coursed throughout the entirety of his life.

He had screamed mother!
However, no mother had replied!
For he had no biology!
But only tragedy.

A P P A R E L  &  A C C E N T U A T I O N S

In times of reconciliation and harmony, Heinrich possessed the casual, yet also superficially sophisticated, elegant attire of the contemporary epoch. Fashionably tailored and presented, most of his shirts and top-section, upper-body clothing shall have the characteristic, yet also very distinctive, color of the immaculate white, of the reflective pearl that gleams at the gentle caress of the radiance that perceptibly surrounds and embraces it with tantalizing atmospheres and ambiance. They had been of long-sleeves, decorated by the centralized buttons to tighten and adjust the shirt correspondingly, made out of an expensive textile or fabric especially designed for Heinrich’s own comfort and sooth. His lower-body, under-section clothing had been simple, efficient and enduring pairs of working, obscure or patterned pants with suspenders attached onto their superior, principal edge so that they did not face the possibility of ever falling in his treading.

 A  G E N T L E M A N  O F  T A L E N T S

An Observer

A Pianist

A Painter

A Professional Hitman

An Intellectual

 

Taught at an early age, by the years of five, Heinrich was taught, everyday, by his grandfather, the art of the pianist, an art unforgettable by those who truly appreciate the touch of a man's fingers over that of a soft and illustrated key, or note, whose filaments are stronger as they vibrate and reverberate with ease. Each day, each week, week month, each year, Heinrich was continuously probed with the knowledge of a pianist, until he had managed to compose an already composed piece of art, all by himself, in the quarters of the farmhouse, in the livingroom, next to his grandparents. There had been days where only he would play for himself, for the instrument beckoned him to touch her, to touch her beautiful, softened keys of ecstasy and pleasure. It hadn't taken him nothing to accustom himself to the beauty of her caress.

As other talents came, the desire for the piano slowly went in a decline, but it never faded. Another art surged, being that of the illustrations, of the capability of holding a pencil and drawing over a canvas with a diverse and numerous selection of colorations, varying from all the crimsons, to all the greeneries, to all the sapphires, to all the blacks and the immaculate. But, for Heinrich, the only colors that he saw were the black and the white, and none more, for his grandmother had whispered into his ears:

"The unseen beauty is the most marvelous, child."

         Therefore, Heinrich only paints abstracts of what he visualizes, as well as portraits, landscapes and, preferably, when with an age, women without their dresses or coverings. It was all for the art, for the passion within the boy, the teenager, the mild adult, for him, for Heinrich, and none else.

But, as time passed, and the grandparents were no longer, he withdrew from all these pleasures and dedicated himself to the study of himself, and of other subjects which guided him to the understanding of life, of itself, and of the unknown, of such a knowledge that only few understood and comprehended. Heinrich became a ponderer, a philosopher of the mentality of others, one who corrupted others with the simple use of mind-play, a tactician's tool for destruction and pleasure.

Yet, as he also destroyed minds, he also inserted projectiles into the bodies of others for the mere sensation of a gratification. He was a personal killer, one that sought the blood of others, the vile blood of the living. He only utilizes the Luger for close engagements, or that of a long-range rifle, his customized Kar-98K. Not a single thought is given to the kill, for the kill draws the blood, and the killer produces it, willingly, without the everlasting consequences of the death.

A N  A V I D  P R O F E S S I O N A L  K I L L E R

"It was a dependence upon a me,

A characteristic poison that slithered along my lips,

One that I could not ever deny of its existence, no matter the circumstance."

"I was not evil, I had not been corrupted, I had only started to release the world,

To release the world of its own vile nepotism, of its sources of malfeasance." 

"Mistake me not for a criminal, but for a vigilante, a male of self-respect that values the lives of the innocent, of the credible, of those that hold truth by their hearts, by their vivid consideration of benevolence."       

"There had been a longing... a longing for blood."

After the completion of the confrontation between countries and men, Heinrich, designated now as Matthaeus to evade the persecution of the Nazi's and the Trials of Nuremburg, educated himself properly with the art of death. The desire that possessed the gentleman surged due to his views on the wretched society of individuals that surrounded him at every given interval of time.

Each day, after securing himself in the United States of America, he vigorously trained himself with the mentality of terminating every soul that was impure and vile to his Spheres. As time progressed and pass by, he grew exponentially stronger, agile, dexterous and swift with the art, proving to be a quite difficult individual to take down if opposed by another.  Due to his dedication, he strengthened his muscles, his physique and his mind as well, growing severely mature and tactful with the years.

Recently, there was a change, an alteration, a modification that ended up, for his good, introducing him to another talent, the ease of removing from the phases of the Earth the species of Vampires. This, of course, was taught only by the majestic and ironically coincidental Vampire, Ekaterina Vakhrov, a good ally of Heinrich that he met in the 1950's in Italy as he was hiding by himself. Because of her, he obtained the knowledge necessary to eliminate her own kind, with ease, with no difficulty at all. On the other hand, the male has not applied his skills in the field with any possible vampire victim. He is, however, tracking one down.

T H E  C O D E 

Like most killers, Heinrich has a code that he follows when he is either about to justify the torture or death of an individual in his grasp. These are the following principles: 

  • 1st Rule of the Code: Never get caught. Heinrich must never be caught committing a crime that would result in his imprisonment or imminent death. In scenarios where an innocent being (refer to the 2nd Rule) discovers Heinrich's doings, he may seen forced to kill he or she in order to conceal his identity. 
  • 2nd Rule of the Code: Never kill an Innocent. Heinrich must be absolutely certain that the target has committed a profound sin, who either takes life for no condonable reason, adulterates, steals or covets the possession of others. Heinrich heavily follows the Ten Commandments in Exodus 20:2-17. 
  • 3rd Rule of the CodeTargets must be killers, thieves, adulterates, etc., who have evaded the justice system, although this rule is often disregarded by Heinrich. 
  • 4th  Rule of the CodeKilling must serve a purpose, otherwise, it's just plain murder. (Refer to 2nd Rule) 
  • 5th  Rule of the CodeFake emotions and normality when at all possible. 
  • 6th Rule of the CodeBe prepared. Leave no evidence of your torture sessions or murder. 
  • 7th Rule of the Code: Stay calm and collected. Do not ever panic. There is always a solution. 
  • 8th Rule of the Code: Don't make things personal because it clouds judgment. (Refer to 5th Rule) 
  • 9th Rule of the Code: Use women for your own benefit. Do not let yourself be blinded by them.

 

T H E  M O D U S  O P E R A N D I 

Like most killers, Heinrich has a technique or an M.O that identifies him. His methods revolve mainly around torture, stealth and the usage of speech. When his targets are caught in the web of distraction and destruction, he moves onto other staunch practices of the craft, which only concern executions and the disposal of the body; at times, he mutilates the bodies to his taste and preference. Up next is a list of his technique: 

  • 1st Technique: He will always involve religion in his killing and will force the victim to familiriaze themselves with his religion.
  • 2nd Technique: Knives will always come to the equation; the victim will either be sliced or stabbed, either to death or to a state of incredible injury.
  • 3rd Technique: If the victim were to be a male, he will be shot to death after strenous, agonozing torture. If a female, the woman shall be raped, tortured and then bled to death, usually by a stab wound.
  • 4th Technique: Heinrich utilizes medieval torture devices to have his victims suffer.
  • 5th Technique: Heinrich utilizes piano music during his torture sessions to appease his masochistic tendencies. If he weren't to listen to piano compositions, he'd lose it quicker than the usual and the victim would likely die a more painful death.
  • 6th Technique: An adaption of mockery -- he has gotten used to leaving Ace of Spades on the bodies of his victims with a fake signature of his.

 

A  L U R E   F O R

They did not understand. Everyone did not understand. One could never understand . . . the motive, the reasoning, the logical process, and none would ever, for it was an enigma hidden within a mind unbreakable by humanity.

Heinrich, or Matthaeus, was, and is, a man of a perfect conduct, with only a mentality for women, and never for men. He is a gentleman before all, and this is, gentlemen and women, the lure for. The man allows a gentility to overcome the woman, her knowledge, her passiveness, her personality, and it latches onto it, vividly, in a synchronization of ardor. A conversation is then ensued, a theme is provoked, eyes are locked, virtues are broken, and fornication is then committed. But, you will never understand, nor will you attempt to, for you will be found dead if you corrupt yourself with the ideals of a paradox. Meanwhile he fornicates and cleanses the world of its impurities, Heinrich becomes a paradox himself, a contradiction that lives on and perpetuates itself for all eternity in the void world of nothingness.

You see, but you do not perceive.

Once done, it all commences again. He achieves the knowledge, the learning, the education, the significance of a life, and debauches it. You would not understand how it functions, nor how it operates on its own. It is a mystery, you see, but you don't see. Do you visualize the lure in front of you? Do you acknowledge the gentility that has been put at your front? He will destroy you, he will annihilate you, and he will quench his thirst once it all comes down to one thing: you. You will not see the light of day, the darkness of night, nor the twilight of both, nor the eclipses of nature, nor the perch of a bird, nor the growl of a leopard,... only the hiss of the serpent. Beware, beware, for he who does not fathom the desire of the gentlemen is one known to trigger his own downfall.

 

T H E  E V E S

Mr. Eves and Mrs. Eves.

The Incestuous Twins.

The Couple of Intelligence

 

Evelynne Gwen Eves

Homo-chromatic hues, a sphere of brown, a sphere of blue.

The age of a dreadful female, the thirty's.

Golden mane of elongated filaments.

Creamy dermis of innocence.

-

'When one observes her eyes, one swears upon;

they're innocence, they're hatred,

they're a mixture of irresolute outcomes.'

Anthony Howards Eves

A normal vision, yet a worsened perception of an ear.

The age of a dreadful male, the thirty's.

Golden mane of shortened filaments.

Creamy dermis of innocence.

-

'He listens, he listens carefully, but never too cautious,

for he's a listener of an ear, yet a silencer of another; 

beware them.'

They're a mystery.

Nobody knows.

         It was a brief call, a connection of telephones that set a line between Heinrich and themThe Eves. It had been unexpected.

Heinrich belonged with them, so they thought, when he had emphasized the contrary.

Conspiratorial Agency.

Ultimate Intelligence.

Hacking capabilities.

Monetary Handling.

B U N D E S W E H R

Unified Armed Forces of Germany

Founded 1955, during the Cold War

He was in Afghanistan from 2001 to 2014, in the war of Bosnia in 1995, in the war of Kosovo from 1998 to 1999 and, finally, the most current war, the war on ISIL ( Islamic State of Iraq and the Levant), where his current service is based upon in any present-time role-play. His friends also serve along him in his very own squad, making up a total of five men, including him.

With that settled aside, moving onto the details, Heinrich is a

Principal Lieutenant, or simply an Oberleutnant in German. His rank dictates his ability to command those below him and the amount of experience he possesses. He is very well trained, very well disciplined and very well instructed, which translates into how deadly the man really is in a situation of intense combat and stress over the body. 

The standard Bundeswehr soldier has an arsenal of the following items: Heckler & Koch USP Tactical P12 Pistol, all known variants of the H&K G36, especially variants K and C, the HK416 assault rifle, the Rheinmetall MG3 machinegun, Panzerfaust 3's and, of course, the mighty grenades, the DM51 hand grenade. Heinrich, however, only utilizes his customized HK416 alongside his augmented P12 pistol, with obviously a few grenades to cover up the gaps. His allies, those in his squad, hold a variety of other tools of war that facilitate life on the battlefield.

 

 

T H E  W E A P O N R Y  O F  A  G E N T L E M A N

E k a t e r i n a  u n d  V a k h r o v

With this responsibility, came, of course, the need to improve his arsenal weapons. Having already a secondary Luger pistol with his primary one, he converted these two into a new variant which he designated as Parabellum-Pistole 1908 Mk. VI - HeTT. He painted them black, completely, changed the grip to its metallic appeal while still remaining with its wooden composure, and re-did their ejection mechanism so it would be capable of firing even faster than before with less of a recoil effect. Afterwards, he engraved them each as, from left to right, Ekaterina and Vakhrov, after the very woman that trained him.

Their protuberances, or silencers, are entirely a disturbance for the male to wear in the usual, common, waist-type holster, and because of this they are carried underneath his always-worn trench-coat or tuxedo by the aid of their own, downward-facing holsters, which are carried by a harness that goes around his shoulders and across his neck to impede their fall and assure their security and ease of access.

List of Modifications installed:

- Sound Silencing Apparatuses

- Heavy barrel for added impact and travel speed of bullets

- Extended, six-teen bullet magazine

- Fast-reacting, bullet retraction mechanism

- Hardened, oak wood grips holding the appearance of obscured, studded metal

- Enhanced, fluorescent, iron sights. 

- - -

I wield weapons of destruction,

triggered by a movement of action,

Where none but the eye can prove that of a fraction.

- J.S.

Z E R S T Ö R E R  D E R  M Ä N N E R

T H E  D E S T R O Y E R  O F  M E N:

A Kar-98K designated factually by its creator and user. It is an accurate and precise, bolt-action rifle customized by Heinrich himself after the end of the war. He equipped a times twenty-four zoom scope lens on it bolt-action mechanism. He had also switched said mechanism with a new, more advanced one, allowing him to quickly reload the chamber with a new bullet if needed. Besides this, he granted the frontal end of the barrel a flash hider for the purpose of concealing the muzzle's flash upon firing the weapon. It holds a caliber of 8mm mauser.

Modifications Installed:

- x24 Zoom scope with night-vision capabilities

- A 'Pull-Bolt' Mechanism enhancement for the bolt-action function

- A tri-pod for added accuracy when standing still

- Canted, side iron sights for close engagements

- A flash hider

---

No matter the range,

No matter the pain,

No matter the length,

It would always be your final fate.

- J.S.L.

 R Ü C K N A H M E  U N D  Z E R S T Ö R U N G

R E D E M P T I O N  A N D  R U I N A T I O N

T H E  Q U E E N  O F  D O W N F A L L:

Mauser C96 9x19mm Parabellum


A secondary set of pistols of the Gentleman were put into consideration once he evaluated their proper performance and usage. These C96's are semi-and-fully-automatic pistols with ten bullet cartridges. They are more reliable than the Lugers, although slightly heavier than them, with about the same characteristics of accuracy and precision as the counterpart of them. As the Lugers, when transported by Heinrich, they are stored underneath his axillae in their proper holsters. They are sturdy, efficient guns.

Modifications Installed:

- Leather grips for added comfort.

- 10-round magazines.

- Loading mechanism altered to fit magazines instead of clips from the top.

- Slightly extended barrel for better handling and accuracy and overall damage increment.

- Sound silencing apparatuses

- Enhanced, fluorescent, iron sights.

---

'Twas their might that had bequeathed them their use,

For a sole one could devastate,

but a second could annihilate.

- J.S.L.


D E R  U N E R B I T T L I C H

T H E  R E L E N T L E S S:


Of course, sooner or later, the man discovered the mere pistols and a rifle would not be enough to deal with vampires. Designed especially for the vanquishing of beasts and monster alike, the crossbow known to him as The Relentless was born. It is a precisely customized, light-weight, semi-automatic, cartridge-required weapon with a rudimentary sight. Due to its mechanism, it does not require the user to equip it with a bolt after firing one; it, instead, allows him or her to fire off exactly twenty bolts of wooden stems and silver tips. After the ammunition is expended, another cartridge is inserted and latched underneath the bulk of the contraption. With this design in hand, it allows for a rate of fire of forty-seven shafts per minute.

Modifications Installed:

- Hardened, poly-fiber strings for added power upon impact

- Twenty shaft drum magazine

- Enhance, simple, three-digit sight

- Strengthened shafts with sharpened, silver tips

---

Antiquity had been the subject; 

I had only known of such an object.

It represented the youth of Virgins, as it fired and wrecked.

- J.S.L

B O S H E I T  U N D  S Y M P A T H I E
M A L I C E  A N D  S Y M P A T H Y:


Since the male had always been an expert in close quarters combat, he had decided to craft himself, with the aid of some of his allies, dual, silver daggers that he had named Sympathy and Malice. These blades are entirely capable of decapitating even the strongest of vampires, if Heinrich can manage to find himself that near to his target. If so, the slice of the silver sheet across the neck, applied by some additional, will be enough to severe the head. They are worn on the lower section of his back in their proper sheaths.

_______________________________

T H E  C O N T R A P T I O N S  O F  A  G E N T L E M A N

 

1 9 3 9  H O R C H  T Y P E  9 3 0  V 8


 P O R S C H E  9 1 8  S P Y D E R  

HNZ-000

Chofer of the lovely, alluring and majestic

V A M P I R E

E K A T E R I N A 

V A K H R O V,

known only as

M S.  V A K H R O V.


T H E  T I G R E S S

-

M S .  A L I B I

P R I S O N E R  O F  W A R

 

A thief is always a thief, no matter the reason, no matter the excuses, no matter the desperation, no matter the amount of gold at present. To liberate the luxury of another for one's own gain was refutable and disgraceful by default. One had dared to challenge The Serpent. The Tigress had ventured deep into the nest of an Anaconda, into the foggy swamps, paws below the surface of the water, suddenly entangled by a monstrosity with talons and slits for eyes. The hiss was produced and the strike had commenced. Stealing from the German and his home gifted this Tigress a life of isolation, imprisonment and abuse without much chance for escape. Heinrich ruled her and dominated her, turning every one of her fibers into utter frailty, corrupted and beautifully eradicated, hope never spared. She became a vessel of anguish, of torment and of satisfaction, a morsel to consume only when the German's hunger struck him and depraved him of all sense and logical reasoning, for he could not ponder on his actions. Instinct betrayed him and worsened her condition. Yet, she did not reside within; heaven sooner than later shone upon her when he promised her to change her, to remove her habits of a thief, of a burglar, of a hand that picked at the pockets of others for self-advantage. He would not allow her to seek such a low life as the aforementioned. Unfortunately, she did not easily learn; his methods proved to be too forceful and violent, eventually producing a grave toll upon her, destroying her will to exist, to live, to carry onward through the valleys and the plains of reality. It is then that he retires from her, maddened by her ignorance, her powerless, to focus on another quarry, a Russian whom could not last a day in the German's grasp.

The breather, while appreciated, would not benefit the Tigress for too long. Heinrich understood that, to have the life he aspired to enjoy, he could only manifest it throughout his one and factual prisoner, not through the heart or body of another. The Russian would not suffice. Spheres of Sapphires had been directed toward the woman in her room and he had no quarrel against the motives. If only love had not interfered with him and his intentions.

 

BANG

A  S H I F T  I N  T I M E

Militaristic behavior;

T H E  R A V A G E D  M A L E

During the war,

I had been promised a projectile.

I had been given a rifle.

I had been given a sight.

I had been given a scope.

I had not been given the will to kill.

-- J.S.

T H E  C O M M E N C E M E N T  O F  L I F E

A Gentleman of Knowledge had been endured far too much within the womb of a female; her innards had announced his conception in the year MCMXX, in the month of July, a day of the numerals of the XXV, in Bayern, Deutschland, The Fatherland of the Global Universe of the very existence of humanoids, of such screams that only prolonged the tolerance of the father, a well-known combatant, a sovereign of the land, of the farm that they owned. Nurtured and naturally adapted, the little boy, growing to be the most idyllic gentlemen of all, soon had been delivered the cruelty of one’s own vitality, at the age of five, where he had been told, merely shouted, by his mother, to flee the place he had so much as recognized as his home.

Assaulted, ravaged and deteriorated by the passing of the First of Global War, the diminutive idol scurried away with his minimal feet across the wheat fields of his farm, with the explosions and implosions of violence surging all around his environment of innocence, pretending, with a wooden plane in hand, that he was soaring above them all, safe and sound, producing, with the small maw of his expressive face, the sounds of its engine, reverberations only recognizable by that of his own mentality, arms extended, sprawled, only to take flight. The projectiles ignored him entirely, for they despised him too much to make contact with him.

They had told him to run for the forest.

And, as such, he had accomplished the ordeal of the century.

He hid beneath the rubble of the trees, mud covering his face, no fear present, yet that speck of innocence remaining where it belonged. He had been informed that his grandparents would come for him, for the best meal a grandmother could ever offer his grandson.

They never came, for as long as the hours passed, and they never did, until he perceived the sound of a familiar vehicle, a truck destined for the ownership of a couple he would never forget after burying them--the parents of his mother. The boy had been saved! A miracle had been elicited! No answer would be given! The mother had been raped. The father had been killed. The mother had died afterwards due to bleeding out from the wrists. The bodies were never found. The boy, when he had turned eighteen, remembered them not, for they were only a blur of time and space, conflicting with his passive ways of pondering.

Where he lived now, with eight years of age, was where he would be educated, the gigantic, expensive farm-house establishment, and academy, of his grandparents. Not a single day passed where he did not know an apparent and newly introduced subject. Twenty-four hours hadn't been enough, either way, for the boy that sat beside other children learning. He ventured into unknown realms of schools of thoughts, of psychology, of philosophy, where he gained the virtue of a man too precisely capable of manipulating the understanding of others.

Yet, at the pace he learned, the years passed, and so did his grandparents, leaving him alone, in charge of the school, of its education, of the farm, of its animals and of its crops, and so he cared for them all, for the tractor that had rusted itself with the exposure of the radiant orb of the firmament. Heinrich, that brave boy, was now twenty-one, with the care of his inheritance. With such a fortune in hand, he went to study in a college everything he could, starting off with the most intriguing of subjects, the math that related itself to everything, to the beginning of time and its objects. He became an engineer, a mechanic, a philosopher, a musician, a painter, an illustrator and an archer, all throughout his stance in college; but no dreams last forever, do they?

No dreams last at all. Hitler announced himself as the land's ruler by 1938, and the recruitment had begun by then. Heinrich had not been spared at all.

The year had been 1940, when the arrival of Germany stepped by the door of France, in July, the Summer of Bolstering and Scorching Fervency. Heinrich had begun to serve just in that damned and forsaken year, by the side of his comrades, Matthaeus Sieg, an elaborate male with a certainty in his aim, Richthofen Schuyler, a brute with a machine-gun, and Schubert Schumann, a medic with the innocence of a boy, caring and attentive to his friendlies. The war had commenced, yet Heinrich had yet to see it at a first glance. They had been man that one could rely on. The shadow of Heinrich

France had not received the most pleasant of marches, nor the most pleasurable of instances and occurrences--no, it had relied on the Resistance to fend off the masculine men of grey from their lands, but they had so much as failed to accomplish it.

The Iron Rose had died by the door's frame, just particularly at that moment of action, of malign intentions. She had died, and none could revive her anymore. The Wehrmacht and the Waffen SS had strode in and out of France by the time the Resistance stood any chance at all. None could stop them. Heinrich's men delivered the success of their objectives as a squad, and the years passed. Poland had already fallen. England was soon to fall. Russia was at the feet of the Grey Men. Africa's deserts were rule by Rommel.

The Grey Men ruled everything. Heinrich, Heinrich ruled everything, until the turning point made its way into his mind, until Matthaeus became an imaginary being, until Matthaeus was adopted as a pseudonym to guard Heinrich's true identity from others and their chase on him. Matthaeus Schultz Sieg equaled Heinrich Wilhelm Schultz. Matthaeus had never, not ever, existed. Heinrich's rifle, given by the non-existent Matthaeus, had been conceived with the name of Zerstörer der Männer, Destroyer of Men, a rifle of dysfunction, of anarchy, of chaos, of turmoil, predicted for the fall of men, for their downfall, for their own potential doom as men.

The fall had come to them, however, for the war's end came too soon, by the end of May, 1945, with Germany's utter surrender, and Heinrich's departure from Europe, towards elsewhere, towards the safety, towards the States, towards Australia, towards Argentina, towards Valencia, Spain, towards anywhere, as long as it included the final resting place of a homeless, fortune-splattered male. Coins of blood filled his pockets.

The man disappeared before the others could tell of his abandonment. He was characterized as MIA, by the end of the war, awarded the ghostly, phantom medals of Iron, of Bravery, of Honor, of Service, for he had accomplished what others had failed to do as soldiers of a country.


The Mirrors had been Drawn by the Shadows that had followed him.

Heinrich Wilhelm Schultz. Matthaeus Schultz Sieg.

Men of Equality. Gentlemen of Gentility.

One man. One Soul.

Two eyes.

A Portrait by August Sander.

 

 

 

Heinrich Wilhelm Schultz

SS-Rottenführer. 1942, 22 years of age, as of now.

 5'7", Spheres of Turquoise

Obscure Mane, German

For he had been too different from the rest,

Apart from a part of lesser conjurings,

A male distinctive by the spectacles of a female.

Lest we forget his name.

 

P E R S O N A L I T Y

 

The potency of a soldier is always too prone to a particular fluctuation in a period, even after the bullets have passed, even after the explosions have ceased their occurrence. The Man is utterly bold in any given circumstance that entangles him and others. When confronted, he is a tactician, mildly silent and observant, with few words to say. Therefore, the inaudible mouth of the soldier shall never move under any pressure or heavy thought. He ponders before, and then the action comes. After the war, none of this changed; however, he became much more observant, much more silent, and much more hard to manipulate.

He is more than determined upon any objective and capable of being optimistic in even the most difficult of situations. Persistence is the trait that encompasses his ability to remain calm and focused on the tasks at hand, and this is what specifically separates him from other soldiers. His headstrong spirit is followed by the methods and tactics that he employs on himself and on the surrounding reality, where nothing escapes him due to his observant, subtle and silent nature. 

However, not everything is solemnity for this male, for he is also very kind and caring for those that he cherishes as his own. He is very curious, positive, honest, patient, timid and encouraging with others as well. Not only is he a helping hand, he is also humble, obedient and trustworthy of any soul

       

P H Y S I Q U E

At 22 years of age, Heinrich is only but a young man, a boy fleshed out of a womb, still learning to become the potential build of a potent male. Even so, he sports the body of a soldier, a strong, tall individual with a certain amount of strength. His hair is of black, entirely darkened, shaggy and loosened, but shaven and concisely adhered to his cranium during the war. His hairy arms, although covered most of the time or shaven, are also a trait of his, highly repulsed and avoided, but sometimes welcomed. His stamina surpasses that of others, and his endurance correlates to this in a manner. While being averagely tall at about 6'0", blue eyed and young in build, he is not much of a show to others. The tainted skin that he holds is unblemished, but also tanned at times.

A N   U N B R E A K A B L E   B A N D

O F  A L L I E S

A N D

C O M R A D E S

 

(Right to Left: Heinrich, Schubert, Matthaeus and Richthofen.)

Heinrich W. Schultz

SS-Rottenführer

Rifleman

"Never shall we fall. Never shall we lose. Never shall we fall back and retreat from the faces of ours enemies. We are soldiers. We are Germans. We have pride. We have might. We shall prosper. We are brothers. We are united. We are together as one. United until the end we shall stand in front of our enemies, and we shall kill them all, no matter what."

Richthofen H. Schuyler

SS-Sturmann

Machinegunner

 

"You're not bulletproof, that's one thing for sure, but one thing that I do know is that I am as compact as a rock. I will intertwine between my friends and I will kill anyone who threatens their lives. I am strong, I am hard, I am a shell, I am unstoppable, I am unbreakable. Those who fight by my side will see the fire in me, for it never burns out."

Matthaeus D. Sieg:

SS-Oberschütze

Reconnaissance Unit

"Silence. Silence. Silence. It is all I hear in the middle of a cold and long night. My friends are away in the front lines. I am here, away in the back of the battlefield, killing my enemies and protecting my friends. Don't mistake me for  a coward, for I am a snake whose bite is strong and deadly."

Schubert N. Schumann

SS-Schuetze

Field Medic Operative

"To care for, to look out for, to pay attention to. That's me, the Shoe Man. Name the wound, I take care of it. Blood? Bandage. Bullet? Pincers. Dead? Honor. I'll never forget a man on the battlefield. I never leave my friends behind. I look after them, all of them. Even the ones that I hate. I'm a medic, I never quit."


T H E   I N C O R R U P T I B L E   H O U N D

 

Oswin, a German Shepard.

A Male. 

Fully Trained, Military Hound.

During the war, Matthaeus and Heinrich found a dog stranded and alone near a fallen building. Matthaeus, since he didn't like dogs that much, gifted it to Heinrich the day they found it. This dog is a German Shepherd and Heinrich named him Oswin. Oswin is a very smart dog and tends to help out Heinrich in many ways. He can endure the weight of a few bags, one rifle and ammunition as well. Oswin wears the classic German helmet over his head just for basic protection. His fur is mainly dark, with a few whitened spots by his ears and face. The dog was trained by Heinrich himself in his own spare time, adding up to the hound's skills with detecting peculiar aromas or scents to track enemies or adversaries, as well as gunpowder, located mainly in landmines. The hound became a dear friend of Heinrich's. After the war, not much is known about the hound's whereabouts.

"Oswin is not just an ordinary and normal animal, he is more than just a creature. He is Oswin... He is my companion, my friend, my savior, my danger indicator. I care for him, he cares for me. I am by his side at all time and so is he. I always known that he will never leave my side in the face of danger. He is very special and one can clearly say that the species Canis lupus familiaris isn't only a name to place it over a dog's head, indicating that is it that. Nein, nein, nein und nein, mein freunde. He is more than just a creature, for he is a true and loyal friend, not an artificial and plastic-made one.

I can just remember the first time I actually brought him with me into the deadly battlefields. It was close to dawning; the air was cold and the night would be soon settling in on my friends and I at the camp we all had made with our bare hands. Every single one of my allies -- Schumann, Sieg and Schuyler -- were there with me. We had been all talking and gossiping about the past three days within the depths of the forest. The day before, Monday, was the day a carriage guided and controlled by two mules walked by us with fresh milk. Schuyler, as always, wasn't in for the milk because he had said that he had plenty of milk in his pants. Besides that fact, Schuyler was more focused on the individual who had the ropes tightened around the mules. He had said that she was one of the hottest and attractive women he had seen in a good while. Successfully, we all managed to stop her and Schuyler made his way into the dragon's cave, coming out burned and not carrying any precious jewels in his hands. For his imprudent actions, we weren't given any milk, but I managed to steal a whole box of it once the woman had commenced marching away into the distance.

All the night of that day we drank milk like never before. We talked like men and just had a bit of fun overall. Today, Wednesday, we heard chattering across the signal radio that was set in the middle of the camp. They had only called on my name and mine only telling to scout the area for hostile, Russian activity. I doubted that the Russians were held responsible, thus far, for Berlin's Countryside border; I was just following my orders.

Just when I had gotten up, picked up my rifle and a few simple resources, Oswin nudged on my leg with his nose, looking up at me with those deep brown eyes. I was suddenly dumbfounded and startled by the actions of the dog. The dog was wanting to follow me in this mission that I had. . For the first time. I left the camp with my companion, reached the point that I had to go to, scouted for about three hours or so with my rifle, the dog always being by my side, lying over the grass. I noticed nothing but the quiet and silent environment around. Later on, I returned from the mission, making it safely back to camp to tell the things I had saw during the mission. In the end, Oswin was rewarded with a bone that had a few left-overs of meat attached to it--he deserved it truthfully."



A F T E R  T H E  D E S T R U C T I O N  &  A N N I H I L A T I O N 

He had been borne a gentleman from the very beginning, and he had been conceived by none-other than the parents of gentility, but that had only been a story for another time, another course of memories, another paradox of the life of the Grey man that onward went into a new era of technology, ideologies and philosophies. With the advancement of the war and its final termination, Heinrich, with Germany's win in the war, became an utterly wealthy man of grace, tranquility and virtue. But, if defeated in the Second World War, he would be encountered wandering the depths of the planet in order to evade the hunting of the Nazi's.

However, with beautiful graces, he was granted the ability of receiving the fortune delivered by the inheritance of his grandparents soon after selling the farm-house, the academy and the many other possessions. Due to his service in the war, he also received countless advantages and awards that permitted him the ascension of the ladder of rank and position. With economy, with politics, with education, with his knowledge, he became an organized gentleman in society. Often required for the pursuit of power, he is only ordered to assist compulsory reunions of veterans, meetings of discussion, and many other activities where no other normal civilian can persist.

It had been the beginning of the months of 1946

Afterwards, even so, with the life of a rich-man, located in a hill in the outskirts of Berlin, Germany, in a rented cottage with a car of his own, he trained as a killer to dispose of invaluable assets in Germany and all over the world. He is not restricted to the country of the Fatherland itself. With his early, military training, he transformed such knowledge and comprehension into the skills of an assassin, a hitman, a professional expert in the art of blood. Occasionally, he practices it every so often, but also has a preferred focus for the absorption of mathematics, philosophy, psychology and other subjects of Universities.

It had been the year of 1950.

But, currently so, he dedicates the entirety of his time in playing games of the mind with women and men, as well as savoring the minds of others. For entertainment, he participates in a variety of parties, weaponry shoot-outs, mascarade balls and the cinema. Heinrich, or Matthaeus, is no simple man, but a man of respect, of courtesy, of ideals, of analysis, hard to crack and vaporize.

He appears without the slightest sign or symbol of a Waffen SS soldier. He harbors a few blemishes and markings, or scars, due to momentary and terrible incidents and accidents that occurred to him during and throughout the war itself. Before the war, he had been flawless and outwardly impeccable to the eye of the females. For his usually loosened, black and long hair, he holds the refined and iconic hair style of the era that most men adopted as their own if they ever imagined a humble and well-organized way of combing their hairs without any difficulty or deprived of the occurrence consuming too much of the available time. This hairstyle consists of grooming the main, upper-section of a male’s mane to either lateral—these being left and right—, and then constructing an aperture, or a fissure, depending on the first chosen side, in the opposite side of the hair. Although, even with such a displayed hairstyle, he does tend to let loose his hair at certain times or events. He will release it if he's home, if he's practicing at a gun range, if he's walking down a street in search of a particular shop, of even if he simply wants to feel the wind fluctuate throughout the filaments of his hair.

He was a gentleman, and as a Gentleman of Grey he shall linger and persist, for no matter the circumstance, he will remain as the same. He is not to be dealt with in the most passive of ways; his past haunts him perpetually and there is no ounce of the past that expresses happiness or joy, or even the slightest amount of content. He's personality is rugged, fierce and serious. An aura of mystery harbors his atmospheres and ambiances. The Enigma is all that he has come to known and comprehend of himself. He is a man, a Man of Grey, and that repetition shall revolve around him, repeatedly, consecutively, without a termination or a conclusion. Why would it cease? Why would it dare to halt if he has had all of this fall upon him, if he has led himself to his demise?

 

 C O P Y R I G HT  A N D  I M P O R T A N T   N O T I C E

 

 Heinrich Wilhelm Schultz is my own creation, as well as other characters mentioned below this post.

I invented this character, all from scratch, and, thus, he is completely mine.

All of his details are mine. He is almost six or seven years old and he has gone through a lot of change, and a lot of diversity. I love him as if he were my own son, and losing him will be something that will devastate me, and I will die, honestly. But, of course, this will never happen.

All of the photos you see are, sadly, not mine. I’ve fetched a lot of them from the internet, as well as the gifs.

I ask for the total respect of this character, and that you approach him OOC'ly as a mature person, and that you do not insult him or me, because you’ll be terminated by the bullet of my(his) Luger. I ask for utter respect, as mentioned above, and I must repeat that. He means a lot to me. I’ll never have him be defamed by participating in ruthless or unnecessary sexual relationships. They have to hold a plot, or some sort of romance. I won’t tolerate anything that causes him to possess infamy. Heinrich is everything to me.

Esteem this.

Each role-play idea or plot that I started myself with anyone role-playing with me is deemed mine. Its copyright belongs with me. You may not steal the idea or use for yourself.

If you are caught copying this character or stealing information of this character, you will be reported.

Heinrich W. Schultz © 2010-2018 Character created by Jeremy Santiago

R U L E S  A N D  I N F O R M A T I O N

** IMPORTANT **

< Heinrich exists in two time-lines or universes, if you will. In one universe, he was born in 1976 and served in the Bundeswehr. In the second universe, he was born in 1921 and served for Nazi Germany. >

- Heinrich and Matthaeus are the same individuals. Heinrich is his real name, while Matthaeus is a pseudonym. Matthaeus is a soldier from his squad, but his name isn't Matthaeus, it is another.

 pseu·do·nym
ˈso͞odnim/
noun
noun: pseudonym; plural noun: pseudonyms
a fictitious name, especially one used by an author.
synonyms: pen name, nom de plume, assumed name, false name, alias, professional name, sobriquet, stage name, nom de guerre

 "Geisel was best known by the pseudonym 'Dr. Seuss'"

- I'm very picky with who I accept and who I send friend requests to.

- This character is not intended solely for sexual roleplays or smut, as some may call it. Review the information above to confirm this.

- I am ENTIRELY flexible. I can roleplay before the war, during the war, after the war, in the 21st Century, and whenever or wherever the player wants.

- This character is very old. Roughly eight years or so of age, for now. I know him very well, but am still learning or creating new things for him every now and then.

- If you don't like long replies, lots of details, philosophical initiatives, metaphors and a lot of effort, I'm not for you.

- I write a lot. A lot. A lot. I will never give you one paragraph unless you're boring the shit out of me.

- Plotting is a MUST for me.

- Don't control him, unless allowed.

- Don't kill him, unless allowed. (Ends the role-play.)

- I dislike Nazism. I don't, however, dislike my own character. He is the difference between all of the cruel men in WW2, at least to me.

- I don't know German at all. I fancy the language, but don't have the time to learn it. I only knew a few words. (I use Google Translate for complex words or sentences.)

- I do multi-shipping. Each relationship is in a different universe.

- If you bore me,... I might stop the role-play.

- Have fun!

Heinrich's Story:

(Read this if you wanna know everything there is to know about Heinrich)

21st Century Timeline [Bundeswehr] (1976-2018+) {42 years of age}

Heinrich Wilhelm Schultz was born on July 26th, 1976 to both a loving mother and a father in the outskirts of Berlin, within the farmlands. Unfortunately, at the young age of four, Heinrich’s parents were murdered. (Expand) He was taken by his mother’s grandparents at the same age. The two dedicated themselves to Heinrich’s education and broadly enlightened him with an immense amount of knowledge—varying from basics to math, science, history and much more—since the two owned an Christian elementary, intermediate and high school, unbeknownst of Heinrich’s parents. Additionally, they also taught him how to paint, draw and play a limited amount of instruments (piano, violin and cello, mainly). Of course, he was also educated in the Christian doctrine. He ended up skipping four grades total given his intellect and ridiculous capacities—he had exceeded all expectations in school. At fourteen, he graduated from high-school with immense honors. At the same age, however, his grandmother was diagnosed with cancer and, unfortunately, passed away in only a few months. The news devastated Heinrich but did not impede his progression and success. Immediately, he began to study in college and graduated with a Bachelor’s Degree, majoring in Psychology and minoring in Philosophy, refusing to take the route of a scientist, a historian or an engineer. At eighteen, soon after his graduation, he joined the military due to a rigorous rumination about life and death that set him on his path toward impeding insanity. Heinrich had always been a thoughtful man—he pondered too much.

In the military now—Bundeswehr, to be precise—he served in Afghanistan between 1995 and 2001. The horrors he experienced during the war produced PTSD in Heinrich; he suffers greatly from it. This was worsened by the fatal death of his grandfather, the last of his bloodline, for now. It heightened the effects of his PTSD and drove him insane in a matter of months. This was just at the end of his service in Afghanistan, in 2001. He returned to Germany to visit his home, a grand house hidden by a mountain to fetch for his belongings, only to be contacted by his grandparent’s lawyers. These men informed Heinrich that he was the rightful owner of the school his grandparents managed. He only received news of an immense inheritance that was valued, at the time, at €2,300,000.00. Having no reason to own the house and the school property, he sold both for a sum that surpassed his inheritance: €25,000,000.00. In addition to his, he had found in his room a letter from his grandfather detailing that Heinrich had a brother by the name of Krieg, whose importance will rise only again years later in the timeline, at thirty-five.

After processing all these transactions and realizing that he was beyond filthy rich, yet alone and melancholic, he moved over to the United States of America. He decided to become homeless, having only a backpack, his bank account details and nothing else, depressed and wishing for Death to visit him. One fortunate night, he did meet with the Lady of Death, but in a way he had not expected. He had stumbled upon the murder of an elder man by the hands of a crook as tall as Heinrich, slimmer, hungry for money. Heinrich froze on the spot, frightened by the silver flash of a knife—it triggered his PTSD. In the craze, he panicked, snapped and attempted to kill the man that had stabbed three times the old man. The old man died, whispering only: ‘Don’t worry, son, I’ll be with God.’

That night, Heinrich resolutely developed the need to kill those deemed to be of vile nature in the name of God because of the things he saw during the war and because of the fateful night; this was obviously influenced by his still-strong Christian beliefs that his grandparents had forced on him. He swore God had saved him from the Lady of Death in Afghanistan on various occasions and, thus, dedicated himself to God believe it would bring him his Salvation. Evil beings needed to be cleansed of the world—it was his ultimate motive. With his military training, he wrote down a codification and a set of rules that would allow him to legally and methodically murder individuals. This spiraled out of control soon after he discovered that he obtained sexual satisfaction from the killings and ventured to kill not only those were guilty of a crime, but also innocent. He drew pleasure from the pain he inflicted on others, no matter their background or ethics.

Sooner than later, his actions were noticed not by the government but by those with similar motives. The Eves, an incestuous, British couple dedicated to tactical, private espionage and senseless, ulterior intentions, contacted Heinrich because of his expertise and his skills as a professional killer. They offered him eyes on the whole world in return for his monetary aid. Persuaded, he accepted the deal.

Now age forty-two, he works for The Eves under their shroud, satisfying his needs and developing his Philosophy as a cleanser.

 20TH Century Timeline [Waffen-SS] (1921-1963+) {42 years of age}

Heinrich Wilhelm Schultz was born on July 26th, 1921 to both a loving mother and a father in the outskirts of Berlin, within the farmlands. Unfortunately, at the young age of four, a small, civil outbreak invaded Heinrich’s hometown and, consequentially, took away the lives of his two parents. He was taken by his mother’s grandparents at the same age. The two dedicated themselves to Heinrich’s education and broadly enlightened him with an immense amount of knowledge—varying from basics to math, science, history and much more—since the two owned an Christian elementary, intermediate and high school, unbeknownst of Heinrich’s parents. Additionally, they also taught him how to paint, draw and play a limited amount of instruments (piano, violin and cello, mainly). Of course, he was also educated in the Christian doctrine.

He ended up skipping four grades total given his intellect and ridiculous capacities—he had exceeded all expectations in school. At fourteen, he graduated from high-school with immense honors. At the same age, however, his grandmother was diagnosed with cancer and, unfortunately, passed away in only a few months. The news devastated Heinrich but did not impede his progression and success. Immediately, he began to study in college and graduated with a Bachelor’s Degree, majoring in Psychology and minoring in Philosophy, refusing to take the route of a scientist, a historian or an engineer. At eighteen, soon after his graduation, he joined the military due to mandatory enlistment, opting to join the Nazi Party’s SS, armed wing—Waffen-SS. Seeing that Heinrich was of Aryan ancestry, the supposed, perfect Germanic origin, he was quickly admitted to it thanks to the referral of his now-deceased father’s friend, Friedrich Gunther, an Lieutenant within the party. During World War II, Heinrich served in various fronts, starting with the North African Campaign on June 28th, 1940. He was trained to mainly operate in tanks, commandeering a Pz. Kpfw. IV for one whole year before he was relocated to serve in the Eastern Front around July 29th, 1941, where he remained most of his time up until the Battle of Kursk—he was issued a Pz. Kpfw. Tiger Ausf. H1. During the horrendous battle, he saw the true horrors of the war through the lens from his commander’s cupola. In that dreadful battle, a shot pierced his monstrosity of a tank and disabled it completely, forcing him to abandon his tank, his dead crew and take arms with a lonesome, infantry squad of seven men belonging to Heer (the regular army). Once they identified him as a member of the Waffen-SS, they immediately granted him the role of their temporary leader and revealed to Heinrich their mission. From them on, they became a loyal band of brothers and, ultimately, their interaction changed Heinrich’s perception of the war and of Jews. Specifically, a soldier going by the name of Matthaeus influenced him the most. He served with them up until the last, few months of 1945, where he was separated from them to commandeer a brutality of a tank—Pz. Kpfw. Ausf. B. Tiger IIH—to defend nothing more than Berlin itself from the clutches of the Russians.

After the defeat of Nazi Germany, Heinrich was forced to flee the country. He fled to South America like most Nazis did and there he remained in hiding before he moved over to the United States of America. There, he found out about his fortune and became wealthy immediately. Then, he discovered his love for killing, the Eves and set himself of the path of doom.

O T H E R  C H A R A C T E R S

If Heinrich isn't your cup of tea, ...

 

 

Déjà Vu & Jamais Vu

 

French

Sisters of Time 

Manipulators of Reality

Orphans

 

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Character Age

43


Character Species

Human


Character Gender

Male


Character Relationship Status

Single


Writer's Writing Style (OOC)

Paragraph, Multi-Para, Novella


Writer's Favored Genres (OOC)

Fantasy, Romance, Violence, Realistic, 18+, Gore, Action


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    | I have my final, final exam on the 17th (this Monday) and I will be slow on replies until then. Cheers! |

    S O N G  O F  T H E  M O N T H:

    Shades of Cool - Lana Del Rey

    Chosen because of Heinrich's blue eyes.

    Profile aesthetics by Lucila

  • Tifa had been waiting, but not for long since A.I.D.A.N. responded rather quickly. Guess the ship was listening in. She'd listen, but not be bothered when it went into detail about her measurements and having had the opportunity of looking through her things. Tifa had told herself that this was a kind of thing that was bound to happen. A way of space life, she supposed, and had to respect the new customs. She'd gotten the impression from Poe that his word was law on this ship, and she was just another passanger that worked for him. "Thank you A.I.D.A.N." she said as she turned back around to put things away. Suppose she won't be needing them, going by what the computer had said. Everything was so different here, that much is clear. Her reddish-brown eyes glanced once more out the open panels that Poe had withdrawn for her to gaze out, possibly in awe. Well, he wouldn't disappoint, because she was enjoying the view.

    As A.I.D.A.N. got her things gathered per instructions from Poe. Tifa sat down, knees together. Twisting her body at the waist, she was reaching for her bag, where she had a picture from home. It was a silly thing to do, but she couldn't part with it. Having been with her so long, she wasn't willing to toss it. Not when it meant so much. It was the whole group, Aerith even made the shot. They were all so happy, but Cloud. He looked uncomfortable. As expected of him then. Even now he was a bit off, and Tifa had grown a bit tired. Having chosen this over staying on Midgar, it had been the right choice. Tifa nods her head as she comes to terms. It's settled, she won't be feeling homesick, not now, or ever. All she had in front of her was this.

    Putting the picture back in her bag, she got to her feet. She gave herself a good stretch, a small workout that she would have to eventually work into her routine on the Poetic Soulier. From what she saw on her way onto the ship, said that she had her work cut out for her. The change of climate that A.I.D.A.N. had told her about didn't have her that worried, but one must take precautions nonetheless, must respect it. She knew some degree of frigid coldness, the northern crater had taught her that. Even the Icicle Village, whom warned her group above the north. Then due south to Mideel, heat waves upon heat waves. Nothing she couldn't get used to. Even so, she wasn't bound to brush off any share warning brought her way.

    Eventually she was greeted again by the ship's computer, presenting her out of the blue the things she would need. Things that Poe had instructed she have on her person. Clothing, armor and even weaponry. Plus some communicator device. She recalls something along the lines as the PDA that A.I.D.A.N. talks about.

    And as she took it from the pile she fiddled with it promptly. Needing to become acquainted with it as best she could. She nods her head at anything else that the computer had to say. Making sure that it understood she was listening to everything. Looking up at the arm, giving it some idea she was clear on the entire information. "I understand A.I.D.A.N. thank you." she says to it. As soon as it was gone, Tifa made herself busy to fit into her new gear.

    Knee pads, boots, .. chest piece. Now how in the Hell was she suppose to fit this, she pondered to herself. Tilting her head in the process as she looked at on the bed. Her hands went to her hips. She had managed everything else, but this, this is ridiculous, she thought. With a heavy drawn out sigh, she had to make it work, regardless.

    She strapped on that belt and holster, pistol as well. Making sure she didn't forget anything. Making a list in her mind and repeats it a could times over before she is certain she has it all down. "Right." she says to herself as she exits the sleeping quarters. This thing, she thought, and she meant the room itself. Felt like a rundown facility belonging to ShinRA. Creepy written all over it. Were it not for the pleasant A.I.D.A.N. coming and going, she would have had trouble getting used to this.

    It seems, unbeknownst to her, that Poe was already off the ship and doing the usual business he was used to. Trading cargo with credits. No matter how shady the job was, she wouldn't question it. She'd just go along with it as if it were the norm. Something she's been doing for years now. Looking spiffy and Poe reaching his limit. Tifa stepped out and tilt her entire body to the side as she looked past a container of some sort. Her hand gripping the edge for leverage. "Where do you want me at Poe?" she asked, making sure she spoke up. Not that she would be meek and keep a low tone. She ran a bar for crying out loud, she knew that a woman running a bar needed to have a voice. Thus delivering one.

    It was if the gear had been made for her. Minus the damn armor piece that settled on the chest. That thing was crushing into her chest. The straps on the sides were too short, she would have to look for something else eventually. Possibly when she got her first pay. She was wearing every piece he had instructed, even the PDA which was on her left. Even for someone who's never really been on a ship, she sure as hell looked the part. She wasn't wearing a bright smile, but a confident look on her face, one that said she was ready. All he had to do is give his order. Point here and then there, and it would get done.

  • Voices she could misconstrue as part of a dream are distant. Not quite loud enough to stir her fully awake. Tifa stretched in her bed, which, wasn't much. Having stirred at some point and disgarded some piece of clothing. Couldn't exactly get comfortable in a skirt, boots and gloves, now could she. She'd kept her top and lady garments. No one said it wasn't permitable.

    As the shutters opened to reveal the grand scene. One that would have taken any breath, Tifa welcomed. She shielded a side of her face with her arm. Groaning and smiling at the same time, she peeked at where she might be. It comes to her quickly that she as no longer back home. She'd agreed to fly off with Poe. Part of his crew too. Tifa gives a nod to herself, rolling onto her stomach in bed. Causing the sheet to wind up around her. Stretching she doesn't decide on getting out of bed just yet. For once she had slept without having to worry what tomorrow would bring. She'd only expected the same, day in and day out. But always a different shuffle.

    From here on it would be the same. But everyday will always be a mystery to her. This broadens her smile. Having seen enough, Tifa rolls out of bed and decides to get a quick shower. Just long enough to wake her up. She wondered if the ships A.I.D.A.N. could register her voice all the way in here. Or if it was just a Poe thing with it. She had to give it a try. "A.I.D.A.N. can you tell Poe if I'll need to dress for any specific weather?" she said, thinking it was silly. Seeing for herself it had looked like a nice warm day. But looks can always be deceiving. Never trust in your personal feeling, but your gut instead.

    She stood under the spray of water, pushing her hair back. Doing a little waiting, see if her hunch was right. That A.I.D.A.N. had limitations. Turning off the water eventually, she pushed her hands through her hair. Getting much of the water out her heavy dark-brown hair. Reaching for the towel she had placed nearby, dabs herself dry, then working on her hair from the side. Accomplishing this she then wrapped the towel around herself, finding it a tad difficult tucking the corner as she brought it over her bust. Quite used to this that she pays it little mind. Never a towel that would properly conceal her. Though, just enough. Like this one.

    Tifa sits herself down on the bed after grabbing her bag that she'd brought with her. It didn't have much, but enough necessities she'd need in her travels. She needed a pair of garments that would match for her. Not that she would be going around showing them. A girl needs to match after all. Her mind had wandered off, thinking if it had been possible to request bringing on board a chocobo. Would have been a good source of transport for her in tight areas that wouldn't be accessible. But then figures that Poe probably had something for everything. She chuckles thinking that. With a light shrug of her shoulders she gets up. With the towel still on she slides a leg, then the next into the snug pair of underwear. Pulling them over just a tad bit further than the usual. Wiggling herself to a comfort.

    When she was content she put the other piece she'd terribly need. Snapping it around her upper torso. Then sliding an arm in, then the other. Adjusting it in place before she's content. She looked for a mirror to go ahead and fix her hair. Why she was going to wear was laying on the bed. A pair of knee shorts and short sleeve leather top. For the windy climates that had a light chill. She didn't have anything for the cold, cold days. Maybe ask Poe for something if he had anything. Get something if she needed to. She was taking note of all this. Sorting out what she would need first and last. Humming as she listed these things in thought.

    Rather than trying to tie her hair at the lowest point. She went with a low tail. Fastening her hair right at the base of her skull. Leaving enough of bangs to accent her features. Silly thought, but a girl thing. She ficked at her earring, satisfied. She was humming to herself as she moved around the sleeping quarters. They were all hers, she thought. Since there was no one else traveling with Poe at the moment. The thought of where the man slept in hadn't slipped her mind. But wasn't something she lingered on. Just a fleeting thought, curiosity if you will.

  • Then I shall tread lightly, to avoid your wrath.

  • Are you going to consume me, Heinrich?

  • Watching my every move, no doubt. Waiting like a predator, ready to pounce.

  • Tifa shares a soft laughter with Sunocean. Knowing fully well what the little miss wanted. And she rewarded for her being adorable, and beautiful. She reveals to the feline that she had a small bag for her, but wouldn't reward her just yet. Maybe when they got to the ship. When they step out, Tifa locks up for the last time. Taking a breath, she knows she's taking a big leap here. But wasn't regretting it. Turning, she joins Poe at his side, and starts walking. Sure t's a few meters away, but not something she was complaining about. She's done more walking than this, in fact, she's walked across plains in her past.

    She is whispering to Sunocean things. Like keeping girl conversation to a whisper, giggling on occasion. It looks like this will be a trip worth having. Not being the only girl on board, and all. Sure it was silly, but it was better than being bored or without imagination to keep her sane, and company. There's was Poe, yes. He wasn't a woman though.

    As soon as they reached the ship she marvels over it. Only ship she ever laid eyes on was Cid's rocket. And that wasn't much. Then there was the Highwind. Again, it wasn't this. Tifa doesn't go around it, looking at it. She was on board quickly, thinking it would be a better view than on the inside. And it is. She contains her excitement, joining Poe on the short tour. Taking note where everything is. Tifa bent at the waist as she had a look down the corridor, then the other way. No questions popping up, she was trying to concentrate first. Nodding to herself as she memorized things. Petting Sunocean absently, but not lacking even if her mind was elsewhere.

    If the ship itself had been impressive, and quite the shocker. Then A.I.D.A.N. was going to earn from her a shocking expression, and sound. Tifa threw back her shoulders, squeezing Sunocean to her a little bit that no doubt would earn a squirm from the feline. " Th—The ship talks! " she exclaims with big eyes. Ship couldn't be talking, but looking around there is no one else there. Other than Poe and Sunocean. And the feline couldn't possibly talk, could she? Tifa takes a peek down at her, then up to Poe. Surely he was.. wait, he just did. It was the ship's computer. " Hello to you too! " she quickly adds after that silly episode.

    Looks like they are well on their way. She didn't want to glance to Midgar anymore than she had to. It would feel strange for her, and have her thinking silly things. Like, second thoughts and all. So, she takes Poe's instructions, nodding. She needs to get situated first before anything. She might have slept before, but it was only for three hours. The rest of the time she'd spent it awake. Pondering on many thoughts. Even trying to get in contact with Cloud. She shakes her head even now. " Alright. " she says to him, turning on her feet and making her way to the cafeteria first. She needed to put away what she'd brought with her. And, give Sunocean her treat. Unless she wanted to stay behind with Poe.

    Tifa put away the food, not quite famished or particularly hungry to say the least. Instead, she adventures the entire ship. Visiting where they had previously. But eventually comes back to the sleeping quarters, stashing her belongings in the locker as suggested. Dusting her hands, she places them after upon her hips, letting a small huff escape her lips. She reached into her back pocket, there she pulled out a picture. It was everyone after a great defeat against their enemy. She climbed on the bed, left knee giving her leverage as she reached across it. Putting up her picture so that she would gaze upon it before bed everyday. She smiled sweetly at it, closing her eyes thinking on that day.

    She was without the feline, whom Tifa had left with a dish with some fried fish. They had some garnish that she knew Sunocean would enjoy. She had looked content that Tifa didn't want to disturb her eating. Tifa sinks down on the bed, back to the entrance of the quarters. Her hair spilled off the edge of the bed, she was going to have to do something with it. Cut it maybe, because it was going to get in the way for sure from here on. She isn't sure, maybe she was over reacting thinking that. Tifa sighs with so much going through her mind. But she wasn't regretting it.

    Before she knew it, her eyes closed, and Poe was paying her a visit. See how she was doing, but the girl had nodded off. Sleep finally catching up to her.

  • Putting him to bed she could do no more than shake her head at the man. Up his legs go on the bed, but doesn't bother to cover him. Didn't look like he would need it. She leaves the room with the door open a crack. Night slides in, and morning comes too soon like any other day. When he woke up he was no doubt going to miss the smell of something cooking. But that's fine. Waking up with a hangover was sure a routine for Poe. Distracted by a companion adds to the stress of needing to move ahead with no interuption. Which in this case, was exactly what was happening. Getting up from bed, fussing with a cat, and now trying to rush his way to his next destination. And with good reason, he had cargo that needed hauling somewhere.

    Banging on the door gets no answer, but the more he does it as his impatience rises, a yell comes from downstairs. There's a duffle bag laying by the doorway downstairs. And a busy Tifa packing the last bits of a breakfast, and lunch. " Took you long enough to get up. I thought you were in a rush. " she said as she zipped the bag. Sliding the bag along the bar she rounds the bar, making a bee line to the table nearst the corner of the bar. There she had a proper top she was going to wear. The egg on her current wasn't going to work, so, off comes her current top. Placed on the table before slipping on the one she will be wearing for departure.

    Reaching behind her neck, she pulls her hair free from under the garment. It's never obvious just how fit the girl is, till one sees under the layers. Every muscle pulled and tightened, then loosened in concert as she did this little thing, changing shirts.

    She wasn't wearing her trademark skirt, but chose a pair of snug pants. The usual boots were also amiss, wearing something that reached close at the knee this time. Her top however was similar to those she is used to. Cropped, and covering the chest enough. She wanted to be comfortable if she was going to be hard at work on the ship. This much she'd told herself last night. And by the sounds of what Poe had described, it was going to be long days. But at least she wasn't going to be alone as she was here at the bar. She throws her hair back from over her shoulder, looking at Poe. " We ready? Or did you need some time? " the gull on her. But she'd beat him to the punch on this one.

    Unfortunately to his dismay upstairs. He wasn't greeted by a toweled Tifa, but a ready to go girl that wants to sail the stars. And she was more than ready. Going over to the bar she throws the duffle over her shoulder, and grabs her other bag with little bit of belongings. She'd left a long note upstairs for everyone, the keys on the bar. She had a spare on her which would serve to lock up the place. Not that it needed heavy security in this city. Must not forget, Tifa told herself, and picked up Sunocean from the ground or Poe's shoulder. Wherever she found her lovely self, Tifa would soon have her in her arms. Petting and cuddling her. Giving her all the attention she might need for the rest of the trip. All in one go. That is, if she didn't mind of course.

  • Alright, alright, so she was wrong on assuming there would be no excitement or adventure. He's proved so by what he firmly declares, and that, brings a big smile to her face. Tifa keeps pouring him drinks. Assuming that this alone serves to fuel the man. The more she does however, the more his person seems to relax. He's full of tales and jokes, well, Poe jokes as he lets his vulgar descriptions trail on and on. Not that he did this intentionally, no. It was a way of life for him. Part of his speech. But as Tifa continues to listen, there's a small nod here and there, staying at the tips of her toes on this. More he spoke, the more she felt herself getting sucked in. Especially when he came to whisper something to her about doing, legal things?

    Something wasn't right about that. Just because he was whispering something like this. Now, if he was going to say, illegal, then that deserved a whisper. Yet, he said he would go into detail once they were on the ship, which will come later of course. Tonight, she had offered him a hot bed which includes a hot shower. Poe was smelling of alcohol and it wasn't a pleasant smell. When in the moment though, it was acceptable. For now anyway. Dropping her gaze as he goes on about having room and board for her on the ship, she nods. Filling his glass once more. Good, she thought, she was going to have a spot of her own. With a list of duties she has no complaint about.

    Tifa is used to running a place on her own. No matter the duties that it entails. She's saved the world, twice and that demanded a lot of her, along with everyone else. But to each one, things weighed differently. She had to deal with a lot at the time. Looking up at the man. She ponders a few things, none of which she brings into the conversation. They were things she, herself, needed to sort out before leaving. Leaving one of those matters till they were about to leave, seeing as how he was in no condition to really tell her if it were possible or not. In any case, she once more rests her elbows upon the counter top as she listened to his tale, one that looked like he was very willing to tale.

    The kind of story that one enjoys by a campfire, or at a table surrounded by people, while having your share of drinks, like now. Minus the friends. The only audience Poe had tonight was Tifa alone. For the few people that were here earlier, headed home. Tifa is able to picture what he tells her, vivid in her mind that she almost slips into thought. Day dreaming as they call it. But the minute Poe's ass lands on the floor. Tifa blinks and leans over the bar, feet no longer touching the floor. " Are you okay?? " She wasn't surprised or shocked. It's expected when at a bar, after a couple of drinks. Poe had stated his opinion on a few things prior to this little spill. It concerned being surrounded by people.

    True, that her friends weren't around as much. And that she was here all alone, just waiting. On what? Who knows. She never speaks of it, nor makes a comment over it. Instead, she busies herself with helping up. Rounding the counter she bends at the knees and grabs ones of his arms. Draping it over her shoulders as she stands, with him in tow. " Come, no more drinks for you. What you need is a bed to sleep. " Of course she was going to offer him a glass of water or two. It usually helped with a drunken stupor. Miss Titties, she thought as she shook her head with an unintentional chuckle. Strangest things people say when drunk, though doubtfully Poe needed to be drunk to speak like that. He's proven it already.

    She doesn't have any problems hauling him upstairs to an empty room. She chose hers, she would be taking one of the others. It didn't bother her any to. So in he went into the room. Depositing his drunken ass on the edge of the bed. " You think you can manage? " She asked, though wasn't expecting a yes, probably something else if anything. With her hands on her hips she did wait for a few. Waiting on anything he might want to say or ask. After that, to whatever he manages. Tifa says something, " If you need anything, just give a holler. I'll be across the hallway. " Thin walls and all. She'd be able to hear him no problem.

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