Name: The Last Prophet
Species: Human
Age: Indiscernible, most likely around 40-50
Gender: Male
Appearance: An average sized man in his mid-life, with plenty of wrinkles. Massive black sunglasses block out his eyes, but he has a sweet beard and otherwise shaggy hair Brown/Grey hair to go with. He's wearing socks, sandals, bermuda shorts, and an old Burzum hoodie with the sleeves rolled up. On his right middle finger he has a mood ring from a Gas Station $2 dispenser. He carries a metal bucket around with him, and taps idly on it while he preaches.
History: The strange man in the corner of the bar. The Dude in the mall who disappears without warning. The fellow that, despite wearing massive sunglasses, peers straight into your soul. The Last Prophet has no name, no family, and no history. He's always been. He preaches the end, and demands the destruction of the Temple of Syrinx. He's known for slam poetry, and staring at walls for hours at a time. You can't spite him, and you can't touch him. He is the Last Prophet.
Powers: Extreme clairvoyance
Personality: Always distant, distracted, and never seeming like he's seeing one dimensional plain or the other.
Sample RP post:
Heedless of the girls fruitless attempts, the Last Prophet remains vigilant in his staring at the McDonalds across the street. He smells like he hasn't showered in weeks, but in a leathery sort of way. The kind that your grandfather smelt like when he told you stories of the war. Except The Prophet sees the war, as it happens. As it happened. As it will happen. And as such, he sees the McDonalds as it is. As it was. And as it will be. Eventually, as his confused female companion gives up and stares silently at the Fast Food Joint, the Prophet turns to her.
"Don't get a job there. Your destiny lies elsewhere, Child. In lands of frost and bitterness, where the cold contempted spark of life is not a spark, but a brief memory. You'll wander into the night, but so will we all."
Tapping his bucket in a military manner, the Last Prophet does a full turn, and stares her in the eye. For a brief second, the universe is opened to her and she understands all. Then the prophet enters the Liquor store, and what shred of omnipresence she had is lost quicker than a stray penny. The Prophet will party hard tonight.
