Gallowglass/Description: Difference between revisions
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<center>'''Mask''':</center> | <center>'''Mask''':</center> | ||
{{tab}}"Gallowglass is big" is sort of like saying "water is wet"; the big galoot is ''massive''. Well over six feet, his brawny frame is stacked with hard-earned muscle; his hands are huge, chapped with heavy labor and a life spent working with them. He has a shock of untidy brown hair parked above pale, clear eyes the shade of unripe summer wheat. His clothing is shabby; generally plain work pants, t-shirts that obviously come from an economy pack, and a raggedy tweed overcoat that he somehow keeps relatively clean. | {{tab}}"Gallowglass is big" is sort of like saying "water is wet"; the big galoot is ''massive''. Well over six feet, his brawny frame is stacked with hard-earned muscle; his hands are huge, chapped with heavy labor and a life spent working with them. He has a shock of untidy brown hair parked above pale, clear eyes the shade of unripe summer wheat. His clothing is shabby; generally plain work pants, t-shirts that obviously come from an economy pack, and a raggedy tweed overcoat that he somehow keeps relatively clean. He is never without a small fabric flower made of blue calico and pink ribbon pinned to the left breast of his shirt, no matter what he happens to be wearing. | ||
<center>'''Mien''':</center> | <center>'''Mien''':</center> |
Revision as of 03:24, 29 April 2020
"Gallowglass is big" is sort of like saying "water is wet"; the big galoot is massive. Well over six feet, his brawny frame is stacked with hard-earned muscle; his hands are huge, chapped with heavy labor and a life spent working with them. He has a shock of untidy brown hair parked above pale, clear eyes the shade of unripe summer wheat. His clothing is shabby; generally plain work pants, t-shirts that obviously come from an economy pack, and a raggedy tweed overcoat that he somehow keeps relatively clean. He is never without a small fabric flower made of blue calico and pink ribbon pinned to the left breast of his shirt, no matter what he happens to be wearing.
It's hard to miss a gargoyle made of glass, believe it or not. The Ogre is a living, walking mirror; only some subtle sheen to his skin gives dimension and shape to his frame. He is a creature of muscle and size, a titan made of industry - random segments of hectic code flicker at his cheekbones, across his brow, down his spine. The coding of humanity is written in his expressions and gestures, sure - but there's a delay there, a blip in the programming that makes his errata of action and reaction seem as if they are practiced. Rehearsed. Encoded.
The Gargoyle's Mantle is very subtle, but carries the heat of the hard stare of Helios on the back of the neck.