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@ehrecht-blog
okay so, real life has been too stressing for two blogs, but I'm finally getting back together and see if I can rack up activity on Reinhardt again. I uh, don't really know what to do about folks who haven't been active in a few weeks but outside of that I'll get some activity going at a snail's pace. If I owe you something and you're afraid I might not get to it, give me a yodel.
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Day 15 - Relax
"YOUR ARMOR IS THE COOLEST THING!" Aesir's bouncing up and down excitedly.
♞ || He is, for but a second, surprised, yet SWIFT is his immediate recovery. The plates of his Crusader armour slides, clinks against each other as he flexes muscles in an EXAGGERATED show. Conceited attitudes do not become him, but Reinhardt would lie if he said that he's never affected by the stroking of his ego. The kids like this kind of thing ANYWAY, he knows, fondly dwelling upon having younguns cling to him like burrs, paying attention to whatever the old man has to say.
❝You like, ja? Ha, I am STILL popular with the kids!❞
♞ || Battle is what he excels at, and thus, battle is what he does. There's always warnings posed for a man of his age, DOUBLY so for one who always looks for danger, yet the blood of justice reigns through his veins. The word ‘foolish’ makes a hollow ring in his mind, but he pushes through it with a mighty swing of his paltry hammer. Wooden, it may be, but the weapon is still a large one in his hands. He crashes his shoulder against the criminal he duels with, giant and giant locked into a FIERCE battle, before his foe falls like a mighty tree.
The smaller men in the organisation are more than a LITTLE perturbed by this, whispers exhanged among their crew, before they continue keeping their distance, exchanging glances with each other. Reinhardt holds up his slightly smouldering hammer as if THREATENING the nearest man with third degree burns.
❝Come on and fight me!❞ Words said as a Flame Strike MISSES his target, the attack soaring towards an unfortunate bystansder instead.
@goodwitching ♥'d for a starter
♞ || It is enough to make his eyes water. Sector oo2 is FILTHY, smoggy, UNFORTUNATE, and with no green in sight. Reinhardt isn't in need of the fresh air, per se, but he would think that where he'd live would be powered by proper energy sources. It makes it difficult to grow accustomed to, posture WORN already by the toxins in the air. It feels as if his clothes are filled with acid, the scowl upon his face being unable to disappear.
❝You are LUCKY, friend,❞ he mutters his quiet complaint. Eyes flicker upwards, AWAY from what he can only assume is an omnic. ❝That the toxins do not affect you so readily.❞
Then again, some machines do INDEED corrode over time, but by the time that happens, he'd be lucky to get out of here. Instead, the old soldier coughs, SQUINTS through the smog and haze, as his shuffling steps form an effort to get this done as fast as possible.
❝Do you BELIEVE my produce would spoil immediately after purchase?❞ He adds with a laugh.
@cyberneticscientist ♥'d for a starter
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♞ || Typically, danger follows him like the plague, or perhaps it is he who FOLLOWS danger? Either way, Sector oo3 is where he stands, a good shoulder above everyone else, yet not INTIMIDATING enough to deter potential attackers. No, with good nature etched into his features like stone, he attempts to chase off burglars, despite a voice in the back of his head — and one sounding like a certain medic, at that – chiding him about his recklessness. Regardless of his aging body or not, citizens NEED protecting, and Reinhardt will do just that.
The knight isn't doing as well as he'd like; of course he's in a weaker state of being now. No armour, no PROPER hammer, just his fists and his courage. He grabs a man by the scruff of the neck, only to have a fist shoved into his gut. Not a punch, but a STRIKE from a dragon's claw, or so it feels like it, with the German staggering under the force of the slightly smaller male. The knight sees another dragon now, but a FRIENDLY one —- despite the unreadable cyborg mask hiding any emotion that could be. For a fraction of a second, the older male is SHEEPISH, yet feelings of an embarrassed nature disappate near immediately upon recognising features. He HARDLY cares about the mess he's made upon being reunited with another friend.
❝Genji!❞ Practically staggering to his feet, Reinhardt wobbles as he addresses the other agent of Overwatch. ❝I will BUY you a new drink. Please, I insist!❞ He scowls at the men he's fighting with. ❝. . . After this—-❞
@ryuujinblade ♥'d for a starter
Aesthetics:
♔ Men [and Bots] of Overwatch [1 / 2]
TFW u forgot to adjust ur queue so that it posts more than once a day heck ... TFW u actually kind of like it the way it is >>
♞ || The technology in this city is primitive; not PARTICULARLY primitive, mind, but it is enough to cause him to wonder about the scientists' strength. Are they not so powerful as to bring them all here? How is it that the first sector still moves erratically? Or that the second is FILLED with unclean air? Are they simply toying with the citizens, displaying power and technology only to yank it away without a second thought? He underestimated the abilities of the scientists it seems, or perhaps more accurately, underestimated their ability to share. Reinhardt sighs, watching the cars roll by from where he sits.
❝Is the public transport so UNRELIABLE?❞ Reinhardt mutters and scratches at his scalp. He's been waiting for the bus for far too long —- being unable to afford a taxi.
@opticallyenhanced ♥'d for a starter
♞ || He's heard talk of wishes, wondering softly to himself if making one would be worth it. The thought seemed a CRUEL one in his mind; of course men like he make wishes—- men like he always make wishes—- yet, NOTHING in his mind sounds fair. As it is, Reinhardt simply hasn't grown used to the city yet. There yet remains the empty hole that his friends and family would fill, a sense of directionless purpose driving the old soldier on. A puff of frosty air as he sets aside the wishing star, forgetting it for now. . .
Hands stuff into pockets as he walks, a vigilant patrol despite being stripped of armour. He could not do much with the WEAK weapons bestowed to him and no squire to provide upkeep. Reinhardt possesses NOTHING but his fists and the slim possibility of slinging a fireball in the face of any unsuspecting criminals. Already a sad prospect indeed, he nonetheless still has little clue as to what else to do —- lost, he is lost and all he has in him is his strength.
He's drinking, mulling things over a mug of beer. Thoughtfulness etched into his usually boisterous appearance, the new arrival is just that -- new. Possibly easy prey for the seedy population of the city, though for now he is blessedly left alone in this quiet little pub, lost entirely within his drink.
Winston called him back into DUTY, but what is there to do when he is so far flung from home?
@forwhatyoubelievein ♥'d for a starter
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♞ || As someone who sees dragons when they are not there, it takes long moments to grow accustomed to the less human population of the city. Omnics, those he handles just fine, and without any complaint despite the warning protests of Torbjorn. Vigilant, ever VIGILANT he is, as he follows the creature. Yet, not even a minute passes before that word tastes terrible in his mouth, each syllable like the sourest lemons on his tongue. He's too human, too NORMAL, more like the Tekhartha monks than the Bastion units he mowed down time and time again. There's no need to use a hammer, pathetic wooden mockery or no. Eye of sharpened blue flickers in the light, his fist unclenching when the being turns around.
❝Would you look at that; someone who NEARLY matches me in height! Truly a miracle to be able to look another in the eye,❞ he bellows with a laugh. ❝Where are you off to, FRIEND?❞
@scirephysica ♥'d for a starter
♞ || To consider himself perturbed by his current circumstances would not be an exaggeration of the truth; in fact, an understatement would perhaps be a more accurate thing. It itches underneath his skin, crawls INSULTINGLY, insinuating that which is a mockery of what he stands for.
He wonders if Talon would be so INSIDIOUS as to be behind this.
He shakes his head of the thought, a hand scratching idly against his beard. Something about this seems to possess a wider scale, a scope he can't IMAGINE. If Winston were here, he wonders if that would make a difference. It is at that thought that the modern aged knight scowls, brows knitting together as if at war with each other. If Reinhardt is getting too old for anything, it is being pulled into another dimension. He sits down astride another man, taking one last break before heading towards his new ‘home’.
❝Why the bad mood?❞ The words slip. ❝It is not as if you've been thrown into this city ‘fore you've FINISHED your Christmas dinner, ja?❞
@ofnych ♥'d for a starter
real life is still kicking my ass with socialization & moving and for that I apologise. I do believe it has started to die down so I can better develop a means of managing my rp time & see about getting my queue going better.
same goes for here too. I'm gonna get me queue set up for today. sorry it took forever to even get started cries.
This… Is his curse.
Finally posting my second Overwatch poster! Whether the game’s canon or not, I just found the idea of Reaper having to work with these super fun happy unbeat people amusing. He can’t be happy with that, surely.
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Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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just doodled a quick rein as a warmup while watching videos
already made a post on Loghain but I'll make one for Reinhardt too hhhhhnnnnn. ... Today I'm still working on moving and thus will still be slow @_@ gonna focus on new years stuff for loghain, but in the meantime I'm gonna try to get Rein's queue started with rp stuff 💪💪 once this madness ends I'll get to work on finalizing stuff on his blog. Sorry for the delay @_@
