Vitalis
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-1 Player Killer
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"Next time, let me eat the cherry." Vitalis grinned. "Understood." He was out of his element as Arsine took the lead on the dance floor. Guiding him through the steps, where to place his hands. All the while commanding his attention. She was a very effective instructor. He found himself impressed. The subtlety of her movements were not lost on him. Placing the pair in the stranger's orbit as she walked him through the method. Vitalis nodded along, focused. Fixated. A puzzle to solve. A tactic to employ. Framing it in such a way helped it all come to him so much easier. "Feel tha
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"But - this is a game, no? Where each action accrues points into a skillset." Vitalis merely sipped at his drink, emerald eyes finally pulled away from the woman who commanded his attention, to the one to his right. The level of the liquid in the glass began to lower, with increasing pace as Arsine spoke. He could guess where she was going with this. "Chance an attempt with me? A dance." Vitalis wasn't even tasting the milkshake at this point. A shame, that. But the saccharine solution bypassed his taste buds. Driven by the desire for it not to go to waste than anything else.
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"Don't worry about it," Vitalis said simply. "This isn't my normal scene. I'm a little on-edge." Yeah, the scene. Not the pining from across the room. Was it even pining? He didn't know. Couldn't exactly place it. But he was grateful for the company. It was a nice distraction. Even if he couldn't stop stealing glances in the mystery girl's direction. It was totally unlike him to be so enamored. Generally, he remained focused on his work. "Serendipitous, Arsine," he said. "I chose green because I'm a healer. Doctor, back in the real world." Similar professions. Though Vitalis didn't s
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“You should just talk to her.” "Fuck!" And just like that, Vitalis jumped out of his skin. His words came out in a hiss. With the music shifting and the host currently taking party-crashers to task, he didn't want to invoke the man's ire. How the fuck was he even moving like that? No small wonder Ascalon didn't have the juice to take him on. It did, however, give Vitalis no small amount of satisfaction to see his milkshake assassins tossed out the door like a basketball. Dude's three-point game was fan-fucking-tastic. It was a good thing that the bartender had not yet replaced h
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Black parchment fluttered down from on high, drifting through the air like ash. A dark cloud that dissipated, each individual part of the whole beholden to the whims of the winds. They felt to earth, one by one, scattered about the ground. Stuck in the trees and upon rooftops. Vitalis had a favorite spot. A small clearing in the forest of Floor One. A big oak tree standing tall and proud next to a small pond of crystal waters. Settlements were off limits, but that was fine. He had everything he needed here. And Vitalis rested. Arms folded behind his head, his back leaning against the trun
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virtues// observant - Vitalis prefers to hang back and watch things unfold, moving only when he deems his intervention necessary. He's learned to pay attention to things that might escape one's notice. Predicting damage, noticing boss telegraphs. tactician - His mind moves quickly, finding the most efficient means to deal with a threat. NPCs are meant to be random, but nothing is truly random. He can see the throughlines, accurately predicting the moves the enemy will make. good-natured - He doesn't care about backgrounds, only how he might help. Be it healing skills or throug
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personality// Vitalis is a man of few words. Sees more than you think, knows more than you would assume. He cares little for the superfluous. His chief desire is to keep everyone he can breathing. Be it against the errant boar or a massive Field Boss, if it's within his power, he will use his skills to the best of his ability. It's almost a compulsion of his - a need to help. Quiet, understated, but incredibly resolute. He throws himself into the dragon's den regularly, caring little for his own continued existence. To him, it would be a fair trade. His ultimate, solemn duty to uphold his
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background// Born and raised by a single mother, Emmeritt O'Neal made a career of defying all expectations. He probably should have lived and died as gutter trash. But he was blessed with two gifts from a very young age: exceptional intelligence and the ability to shut the fuck up. Those two things gave him a leg up on his peers. Silently observing, learning, adapting. Emmeritt used and abused his gifts. School was no challenge, but dreadfully boring. Undergrad was a similar story. He earned his doctorate, his PH.D and his medical license. A practicing surgeon, accurate, precise, eff
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