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Red Itst
Not just a simple tattooist.
0 · 83 views · located in 
Main Street
a character in “The Multiverse”, as played by Gasmask
Description
Equipment
- One slightly rusty but still functional pump-action shotgun with sling, filed off serial number, no ammunition and fixed bayonet. It bears four deep gouges in the grip. Upon closer inspection, the barrel is intricately painted with red 'tribal' patterns, the gun requires no ammunition to fire and fires 20G buckshot.
- One tattooist kit stored inside Red's vest. The tools are filled to the brim with a shiny black ink, have the same coloring as the shotgun and the ink canisters only bear one label which reads; "Juice". Any tattoos given with this have innate magical abilities, although with drawbacks. An added extra is the three-ring binder accompanying the set contains a photocopy of the official instruction manual, quick-use notes, and details for cleaning, maintaining, restocking and long-term storage of the kit with scribbled notes.
- A 9-inch knife, made from a single piece of highly-polished steel. The entire thing is covered in hierolyphs from the Old Kingdom of Egypt. They're just gibberish if anyone tries to translate them; they don't mean anything. The knife itself is sharp as sin and very ergonomic. With the added bonus of being able to slice though corporeal beings.
So begins...
Red Itst's Story
- Seen 26 Times • Page 1 of 2 • 1, 2
Red stepped into the bar, holding his arms out and loudly announcing to the bar; "Oh this is nice, no shooting, or killing, I get so tired of that. Bro's" He said, in his thick hick accent. He stepped one leg forward and sat on a stool next to Alex and Neutrina.
"What in the fuck are you?" He asked the machine-thing.
"What in the fuck are you?" He asked the machine-thing.
Red leaned back, scratching his chin. "Chill, chill out." He said, then making a wild swipe for the knife in the fairy's hands, if he grabbed it, he'd spin it and stab it into the counter, if he failed; he'd either have a nasty gouge or something.
He turned to Alex and grinned a dangerous smile. "That's true when the people behind the trigger think they have the ultimate pussy attractor, but then they hit the ground in the pub, scary fucking shit."
He turned to Alex and grinned a dangerous smile. "That's true when the people behind the trigger think they have the ultimate pussy attractor, but then they hit the ground in the pub, scary fucking shit."
The thug lifted his hands in reply to the fairy bracing herself; "I don't like knives, chill out bro." He replied, ordering himself a six-pack of cheap beer and kicking his feet up. "Got some gloves, and you know that kinda shit."
The setting changes from gambits-bar to Mjötviðr; The Realms
Red's parlor. The lone building sat between a smoker's mart and a pawn shop. The building was small with only three rooms, a single parking space and two large windows revealing a tattooist's chair and stool combo, a large big bold sign that read; "Feck off kids." and a wall plastered with photos of people with tattoos, line art designs and overly detailed sketches.
There was a single counter inside, unmanned. Above the counter was a radio blasting metal, an american flag draped across the top of the counter.
It looked very inviting to the wrong type of people.
There was a single counter inside, unmanned. Above the counter was a radio blasting metal, an american flag draped across the top of the counter.
It looked very inviting to the wrong type of people.
The setting changes from the-realms to Main Street
Red Itst's PortraitRed's parlor. The lone building sat between a smoker's mart and a pawn shop. The building was small with only three rooms, a single parking space and two large windows revealing a tattooist's chair and stool combo, a large big bold sign that read; "Feck off kids." and a wall plastered with photos of people with tattoos, line art designs and overly detailed sketches.
There was a single counter inside, unmanned. Above the counter was a radio blasting metal, an american flag draped across the top of the counter. The song was some kind of vague power metal, the dial had been taken off and there was a photo taped to the wall of a large stocky bearded man holding a deer over his shoulders, patting the back of the owner. It was a surprise there wasn't a stockade flag in there.
It looked very inviting to the wrong type of people.
There was a single counter inside, unmanned. Above the counter was a radio blasting metal, an american flag draped across the top of the counter. The song was some kind of vague power metal, the dial had been taken off and there was a photo taped to the wall of a large stocky bearded man holding a deer over his shoulders, patting the back of the owner. It was a surprise there wasn't a stockade flag in there.
It looked very inviting to the wrong type of people.
There was a toilet flushing noise as a man exited the back room, flinging a magazine though the old fashioned half-door gap and dried his hands on his singlet, revealing every inch of his tattooed skin. He'd never been able to turn the needle on himself, kind of hard with the prospective he'd have. He turned around, locking the half-doors and nearly forgetting to zip his pants up.
The tattoos on the walls that Renne might glance about were extremely detailed, there were prices for moving tattoos, glow in the dark, color changing and even 'magical' types. The latter had very vague details and all of them were for a steady price of fifty upfront, fifty later if the customer is satisfied. Nobody could say that Red was smart with his pricing.
Red looked up to notice Renee though the glass windows and tried his best to smile, coming up more like a wolfish grin.
The tattoos on the walls that Renne might glance about were extremely detailed, there were prices for moving tattoos, glow in the dark, color changing and even 'magical' types. The latter had very vague details and all of them were for a steady price of fifty upfront, fifty later if the customer is satisfied. Nobody could say that Red was smart with his pricing.
Red looked up to notice Renee though the glass windows and tried his best to smile, coming up more like a wolfish grin.
Red raised an eyebrow, his usual customers were either people looking to enhance their levels of man or other beings looking for that edge in combat or looks. Both of them were rarely girls, let alone ones that looked normal... norma-lish even. The song on the radio switched to some classic Metallica; from the sound of the intro it was 'All Nightmare Long'. Red pointed at the sign next to the door which read: "We're open."
Red glanced at the needle set under the counter, trying to think of the time he last cleaned them.
Red glanced at the needle set under the counter, trying to think of the time he last cleaned them.
"Take a look around, dame" The owner said: His voice was country american accented with a hint of Canadian. The shop had a large sign above the tattooist's chair that said in big block red letters. "NO SMOKING". How ironic. In fact, it was so clean, that any animals and anybody trying to graffiti or litter got a look at the shotgun behind the counter; or in one infamous case had their face tattooed with 'hipster party stars'.
Red pulled out the needles and started to prep them, pulling out a couple of ink canisters marked with colored labels.
"Which type you plannin' on gettin?"
Red pulled out the needles and started to prep them, pulling out a couple of ink canisters marked with colored labels.
"Which type you plannin' on gettin?"
For a hick, Red was a fast learner, she hadn't talked yet and she had just showed him what she wanted without words. She was either mute or was a snobby bitch who didn't talk to Americans, fuck, he hated those. "Can do, again, what type? Color changin'? Just a normal one? Magic too, but there's a catch with that one, obligated to tell ya." He pulled out a suitable needle. "Also, you got anything that might kill me if I stab a needle in ya? Rock skin for instance? I've had terrible experiences with that." He added, gesturing for her to sit on the chair.
"Make yourself comfortable."
"Make yourself comfortable."
"Aight' Good. And yeah, I can, it's not hard to put some detail in a tattoo like that. For me, anyway." He replied. Red swung a stool next to the chair and flicked the tattoo needle he was using and attached a canister to the side. Pulling a nearby table to his side and squirting some of the ink into a tiny basin. Looks like she wasn't the snobby bitch type. That was a relief to him.
"Oh yeah, fifty up front, your wallet prepared for that?"
"Oh yeah, fifty up front, your wallet prepared for that?"
"I need you sit down though." Red exclaimed, pointing at the counter as if suggesting that is where she should put the money. "Black outlines, zombie face, barbed wire, should be easy. Just remember, if it's copyrighted, you didn't get it from me." Red added, swinging his stool over to the chair and flicking a switch on the side to extend the legs out, so she could lie down on it and give him easier access to the area he needed to tattoo.
It was all a matter of balance.
It was all a matter of balance.
Red's tattoo parlor was saddled between a smoker mart and some other store that serviced boring people. At the front of the store were two signs: One read "Feck off kids." in chicken-scratch and the other read "No smoking." in big red block letters. Red was sitting at the counter, cleaning his tattoo kit and keeping an eye on the television mounted to the other side of the shop with an american flag mounted above it.
The other wall quoted the prices and an entire wall was dedicated to photos of happy customers showing off their ink, some line art and the guidelines for a 'magic' tattoo.
The news on the television was all about Gambit's bar again. Red sighed and muttered to himself. "That bartender's doen nothin' but nothin'."
The other wall quoted the prices and an entire wall was dedicated to photos of happy customers showing off their ink, some line art and the guidelines for a 'magic' tattoo.
The news on the television was all about Gambit's bar again. Red sighed and muttered to himself. "That bartender's doen nothin' but nothin'."
Red looked up, adjusting his bandana with the american stars on it. It was his favorite. "Thanks. Can Ah cyst you mamm?" The patriot asked, lowering his legs from the counter and making sure to check his zipper was up as he stood up to put the kit on the tray next to the tattooists chair. "Ya mah' call me Red." He added, making sure to note all her features in his head, she didn't look like human now that he thought about it.
Kind of like a funny Asian.
Kind of like a funny Asian.
"Ya mean the juice? Yeah. Sythensize' them with some the pure blue stuff. Only one that knows the secret to it is all. At least." Red said, the secret was something that Red had been the only one who'd figured it out, it was actually more complicated than one thought, so many things that could go wrong, it was kind of ironic. It was a secret like this that fell into the hands of a country american.
"Mighty cold today, idinit?" He said, checking his wristwatch and then smiling at his potential customer. "You en't from that asshell' from the other side of tewn, right? That guy cain't even bawl water without burnin' it." He was of course speaking of another tattoo parlor that specialized in tattoos that gave powers by using technology.
"Ah I gettah tell ya though, the price en't jus' money. There's a catch to evury' one depending on what you want."
"Mighty cold today, idinit?" He said, checking his wristwatch and then smiling at his potential customer. "You en't from that asshell' from the other side of tewn, right? That guy cain't even bawl water without burnin' it." He was of course speaking of another tattoo parlor that specialized in tattoos that gave powers by using technology.
"Ah I gettah tell ya though, the price en't jus' money. There's a catch to evury' one depending on what you want."
"Ih' can do that." Red replied. "It en't ard' to do sumthin' like a flamehtrhower' spiel' on yer' hand or leg. You can touch it an' throw it, or you caen' make it project from your palms, but the set back is that the longr' you use dat sheeyut. Yer' body gets hotter and hotter till yeh' burst inta' flames." The man added, sitting on the counter and throwing some gum into his mouth.
"I cun' do lotsa' spiels. Aow' can I be a use of yeh?"
"I cun' do lotsa' spiels. Aow' can I be a use of yeh?"
“
*feels a slight tremor of energy*
”
Aneres Coreveon wasn't dressed as obscurely as she would have liked to believe. The shimmering white kimono-style overlayer embroidered with golden moons down the sleeves, the long-hemmed fringe coming to rest just above the hemline of golden bell-bottoms. Beneath was a plain white top. A golden chain poked out from the collar but the rest of it was tucked beneath the shirt.
There was nothing Aneres could do about the bodyguards who followed her, but she had grown used to that to some degree. At least they let her style them at this point. It made everyone's job easier.
Aneres flicked golden braids to look one way up the street, then the other, then back again. A grunt from one of the bodyguards signaled that it was alright to cross. Halfway across the street she felt a slight tremor of energy. The bodyguards picked up their pace and hurried Aneres across. She didn't protest. They came to stop a stone's throw from a mercedes, a man perched atop the back.
"Did you feel that?" Aneres asked the man, half looking down her nose despite the fact that he was literally seated higher up than where she stood. Her tone wasn't pretentious but there was something about it that dripped with royalty.
There was nothing Aneres could do about the bodyguards who followed her, but she had grown used to that to some degree. At least they let her style them at this point. It made everyone's job easier.
Aneres flicked golden braids to look one way up the street, then the other, then back again. A grunt from one of the bodyguards signaled that it was alright to cross. Halfway across the street she felt a slight tremor of energy. The bodyguards picked up their pace and hurried Aneres across. She didn't protest. They came to stop a stone's throw from a mercedes, a man perched atop the back.
"Did you feel that?" Aneres asked the man, half looking down her nose despite the fact that he was literally seated higher up than where she stood. Her tone wasn't pretentious but there was something about it that dripped with royalty.
"Bristol, very nice to meet you," Aneres extended her own hand and delicately gripped his. She frowned upon hearing that he didn't know what it was either.
"I am Aneres, as I prefer to be called," She regally addressed Bristol with a smile, "Princess of Aurealas. A pleasure to meet you. Is that what brings you here? Looking for the source of the disturbance? I will admit I haven't felt it anywhere else but here."
One of her Over's coughed. She rolled her eyes. They were always concerned she would reveal too much. Aneres had yet to do so.
"I am Aneres, as I prefer to be called," She regally addressed Bristol with a smile, "Princess of Aurealas. A pleasure to meet you. Is that what brings you here? Looking for the source of the disturbance? I will admit I haven't felt it anywhere else but here."
One of her Over's coughed. She rolled her eyes. They were always concerned she would reveal too much. Aneres had yet to do so.
“
Ha. That's my problem too. Where you tryna get to?
”
- Seen 26 Times • Page 1 of 2 • 1, 2