Inspired by some of the amazing pieces I've seen folks write on these forum games. Also - sorry for all the forum games. I really like them, I guess?
This is intended to be a short writing exercise - your character sees the character above for the first time. The setting, etc. is up to you.
What's your character's first impression of the character above?
Obviously, please keep it SFW and decent. The usual public forum rules apply, I guess!
I'll leave my three / main / lads here to give a bit of a choice for whoever starts. Will maybe join in later if this gains traction as usual!
Hope this is ok... and thanks in advance! Can't wait to see what people come up with!
This is intended to be a short writing exercise - your character sees the character above for the first time. The setting, etc. is up to you.
What's your character's first impression of the character above?
Obviously, please keep it SFW and decent. The usual public forum rules apply, I guess!
I'll leave my three / main / lads here to give a bit of a choice for whoever starts. Will maybe join in later if this gains traction as usual!
Hope this is ok... and thanks in advance! Can't wait to see what people come up with!
Mariano wasn't completely foreign to the idea of meeting civilians, but...something about Jack struck him as particularly fragile. He, they?, seemed particularly whimsical and carefree--there was little real purpose to his movements. There was no way he'd seen more than one or two fights with real consequences attached to them.
Even so, Mariano couldn't find it in himself to scorn him. It was...good that they hadn't had to face the reality of hurting someone. Or far heavier, killing someone. He wouldn't wish that on anyone, even if he'd found it unavoidable at times.
There was the hum of magic to him, though. Bright, airy stuff, Mariano couldn't taste it exactly but it wasn't honed to lethality. It was playful--refreshing to feel after years and years learning to use his own magic for efficient war-making. He'd just not mention this person to Bastian later, the dragon was too curious about other mages, got too pushy. He'd bully Jack, most likely.
Mariano would just keep an eye on things, not make any waves. Open spaces with lots of people like this outdoor market could turn dangerous in an instant--particularly with a wanted crown-slayer nearby.
Even so, Mariano couldn't find it in himself to scorn him. It was...good that they hadn't had to face the reality of hurting someone. Or far heavier, killing someone. He wouldn't wish that on anyone, even if he'd found it unavoidable at times.
There was the hum of magic to him, though. Bright, airy stuff, Mariano couldn't taste it exactly but it wasn't honed to lethality. It was playful--refreshing to feel after years and years learning to use his own magic for efficient war-making. He'd just not mention this person to Bastian later, the dragon was too curious about other mages, got too pushy. He'd bully Jack, most likely.
Mariano would just keep an eye on things, not make any waves. Open spaces with lots of people like this outdoor market could turn dangerous in an instant--particularly with a wanted crown-slayer nearby.
Most of the time, Zubairad was an accurate judge of character. Being able to peer into the minds of man gave an advantage when assessing their hearts, but at times, even he gets stumped by... for lack of a better word, the simplicity of some.
Not that it wasn't wrong, by any aspect. Some people live lives with clear lines drawn in the sand, and for better or worse, define their lives in a clear morality. It made for some of the most focused people he'd ever come across, however those roads might lead.
Zubairad pinched his chin in thought, noting the limbal rings in his eyes, a shining silver that stood out behind dark brown. High chance it was fuelled by magic, an added credence to skill waiting to be turned to the right person.
To say Zubairad didn't have an itch to know more of this stranger would be a lie. Though the swordsman's gaze looked like it wouldn't be turned to anything worth paying mind to, Zubairad felt a need to fetch a large jar, put him in it, shake it as hard as he could and unleash him upon the world.
He wanted to know what a straightforward person like Mariano would do in the midst of chaos.
Not that it wasn't wrong, by any aspect. Some people live lives with clear lines drawn in the sand, and for better or worse, define their lives in a clear morality. It made for some of the most focused people he'd ever come across, however those roads might lead.
Zubairad pinched his chin in thought, noting the limbal rings in his eyes, a shining silver that stood out behind dark brown. High chance it was fuelled by magic, an added credence to skill waiting to be turned to the right person.
To say Zubairad didn't have an itch to know more of this stranger would be a lie. Though the swordsman's gaze looked like it wouldn't be turned to anything worth paying mind to, Zubairad felt a need to fetch a large jar, put him in it, shake it as hard as he could and unleash him upon the world.
He wanted to know what a straightforward person like Mariano would do in the midst of chaos.
"Whoa-zeyy.." Utterly flabbergasted, the dragon looked up at the towering beast of a flesh-creature. Mostly scaleless, with a magnificent dark brown hide and white mane, he certainly was one of the more majestic 'hyumons' she'd come across. "Nice robes there, man-dude." Or.. was he? Not the majestic part, nah, he got all the bases covered there, but more so the hyumon part. 'Cause, if she closed her eyes and pretended not to relive the image of the intidimating man-figure, she felt the vibe of something much, much more physically superior. A dragon, like herself. "Huh, so- question for ya. Dunno if anyone ever got to tell you before.. but you're sorta.. dragon'y. Not in a big, scaly, wing and fire-breath sense, nah, I wouldn't accuse a poor hyomon of being capable of such things. Closer to, uhh-" Well, what could've caused this air of dragon-energy that surrounded the man? The dragon snorted out a puff of smoke, frowning beneath her battered red-striped helmet. "..like you're either hidin' a teeny secret in your pocket, or ate a whole, whole lot of them. Since, y'know, ya are what you eat and all that." No chance with her though, no sir! The dragon wasn't scared to kick anyone's ass to keep them from eating her.
The Professor's thin eyebrow arched as he regarded the creature before him. Ah, an interesting specimen, for sure. Some elements were fairly common, but, on first liook, he could not pinpoint the dragon to belong to any of the certified species known to science in his time and day. A hybrid, perhaps? Or...
"Very peculiar", he commented, so quietly it wasn't clear if he was talking with the dragon ot musing aloud. "The genetic matrix is draconic with reptilian influences, but some elements tend to suggest a certain measure of mammal heritage as well as some typically ovine traits." Had it been a play of the light or his eyes had flashed briefly with an alarmed expression at the sight of the dragon's ram-like horns? If one hadn't known him really well, it'd almost be possible to say that the already pale complexion which so rarely saw sunlight had turned a tad more ashen.
Real or imagined, the old scientist's shock was quickly dispelled as he took a step back - distancing himself from the dragon while not taking his eyes off her. "A.R.G.O, activate a high-density force field and launch the basic analysis tools." He'd not get _near_ that creature to get samples of its fur, or blood. Fortunately, he needn't do so; he had test-bots that could see to it. And if the creature proved as destructive as its horns suggested, the self-repair utility of the test-bots would see to it.
But until he knew what he was dealing with exactly, Professor Leonard Ghertivel wasn't letting the guard down. "You will not move from there", he instructed the dragon, adressing her for the first time. "The sample collection is a quick and harmless process. Got to figure out just what you are, after all."
"Very peculiar", he commented, so quietly it wasn't clear if he was talking with the dragon ot musing aloud. "The genetic matrix is draconic with reptilian influences, but some elements tend to suggest a certain measure of mammal heritage as well as some typically ovine traits." Had it been a play of the light or his eyes had flashed briefly with an alarmed expression at the sight of the dragon's ram-like horns? If one hadn't known him really well, it'd almost be possible to say that the already pale complexion which so rarely saw sunlight had turned a tad more ashen.
Real or imagined, the old scientist's shock was quickly dispelled as he took a step back - distancing himself from the dragon while not taking his eyes off her. "A.R.G.O, activate a high-density force field and launch the basic analysis tools." He'd not get _near_ that creature to get samples of its fur, or blood. Fortunately, he needn't do so; he had test-bots that could see to it. And if the creature proved as destructive as its horns suggested, the self-repair utility of the test-bots would see to it.
But until he knew what he was dealing with exactly, Professor Leonard Ghertivel wasn't letting the guard down. "You will not move from there", he instructed the dragon, adressing her for the first time. "The sample collection is a quick and harmless process. Got to figure out just what you are, after all."
There had been a great flash of light. As if some maddened god had hurled a giant piece of fire which had threathening to rip the very sky asunder. Suddenly, she felt the ground shake and the air shift around her with force and near searing heat. For a moment the forest held it's breath. Until it didn't. A deer passed her, close enough to touch, without so much as missing a beat. Then came a family of badgers. Moles. Rabbits. Even a wolverine. The canopy was similairly set into motion. Birds and squirrles fleeing the area and the scent of charred air. Fearing an oncoming forest fire, Sova did the same.
A few hours later, however, the scent was all but gone. And the following day, it seemed things had more or less calmed down. By the time she felt bold enough to return to retrieve her things, the animals had figured the same. Had she not seen the event from the day prior, she might not even have guessed anything out of the ordinary at all. Except, as she came back to her camp she spotted something astray. A figure which didn't belong.
Pale was the first word that came to mind upon seeing him. His skin was pale. His strange cloth robes and hair were even more so. Despite his colour, or lack thereof, he wasn't one of her kind howver, but neither did he remind her much of the humans she was used to seeing. He looked aged and wisened, but not nearly enough to justify his white mane. Neither did his liethe form reveal any sign of weakness. Though he did have a faint, but strange scent about him which she couldn't quite place. A bit similair to metal, but with something else unfamilair atop. She concluded, eventually, that he had and oddly ageless quality about him, despite the subtle wrinkles in his face. From where she remained, now croutched and hidden, she continued observing him. His icy eyes remained ever sharp and allert, as he appeared to investigate her encampment and murmur things to himself with interest. Not that she understood a word he was saying.
To her, he remained an anigma. Untill, suddenly a realization dawned upon her. The fire hurled across the sky, had it been his doing? She felt the feathers upon her back stand on end as she began weigin the possability. It made sense, did it not? That the strange man might not in fact be a human man but something else entirely? It would certainly explain the confidence with which he traversed her encampment, all on his own. As far as she could see he was neither carrying any sort of weapon or otherwise armed with claw and fang. But then again, what need may one have for such if able to hurl fire with such ferocity as to make the very ground shake and forest flee?
Uneasily, she decided to temporarily retreat then, in hopes that the other might eventually loose interest in her things and move on to do something else.
(Settled on a lil crashlanding scenario since their settings appear so different, hope you don't mind. :>)
A few hours later, however, the scent was all but gone. And the following day, it seemed things had more or less calmed down. By the time she felt bold enough to return to retrieve her things, the animals had figured the same. Had she not seen the event from the day prior, she might not even have guessed anything out of the ordinary at all. Except, as she came back to her camp she spotted something astray. A figure which didn't belong.
Pale was the first word that came to mind upon seeing him. His skin was pale. His strange cloth robes and hair were even more so. Despite his colour, or lack thereof, he wasn't one of her kind howver, but neither did he remind her much of the humans she was used to seeing. He looked aged and wisened, but not nearly enough to justify his white mane. Neither did his liethe form reveal any sign of weakness. Though he did have a faint, but strange scent about him which she couldn't quite place. A bit similair to metal, but with something else unfamilair atop. She concluded, eventually, that he had and oddly ageless quality about him, despite the subtle wrinkles in his face. From where she remained, now croutched and hidden, she continued observing him. His icy eyes remained ever sharp and allert, as he appeared to investigate her encampment and murmur things to himself with interest. Not that she understood a word he was saying.
To her, he remained an anigma. Untill, suddenly a realization dawned upon her. The fire hurled across the sky, had it been his doing? She felt the feathers upon her back stand on end as she began weigin the possability. It made sense, did it not? That the strange man might not in fact be a human man but something else entirely? It would certainly explain the confidence with which he traversed her encampment, all on his own. As far as she could see he was neither carrying any sort of weapon or otherwise armed with claw and fang. But then again, what need may one have for such if able to hurl fire with such ferocity as to make the very ground shake and forest flee?
Uneasily, she decided to temporarily retreat then, in hopes that the other might eventually loose interest in her things and move on to do something else.
(Settled on a lil crashlanding scenario since their settings appear so different, hope you don't mind. :>)
Cruel was the deigning of fate and even such things as justice were but the constructs of mortals to bring order to the uncaring realms and nowhere was this more evident than in the tale of that woman who should now be called the snow-beast. Word travelled fast in and amidst the taverns of the lands and the ill-repute of beastmen and wyches spurned oftentimes more by mercenary guilds to keep their coffers filled with merchants silver as they strolled the road, than was actually merited.
She would have been used to being the watcher and the stalker, honing her art over a long period of time, her survival inspite of her circumstances was testament to her skills however, this moonlit eve she was fated to meet him. Sova would know well that not all beasts resembled beasts and not all who resembled beasts were beasts, the former held true in the case of this man, there were those whom scorned him who called him The Wolf Of Cornaeth, and those that had marched under his banner or fought by his side called him by the Valradic Imperial moniker, Patr-Lukos - The Wolf Father and he had done enough to merit song and tale in many taverns, all the same as her, but legends were precisely that, spun out of proportion even if there was no smoke without fire.
The evening had announced itself with the thud of hooves and the bark of vicious hounds, though certainly nothing that Sova hadn't faced before, a mob of angry villagers demanding retribution for missing sheep or cows, rallied by superstition and blaming all misfortunes upon her coming those that had been kind were not offered courtesy as pyres within the village were being set up which should have meant the worst of things, wyches they said. They wouldn't have been much a match if it were not for the torches, it finally ceased but then the silence grew all too eerie.
Atop a rocky promontory amidst a clearing where the trees grew thin was the stalwart silhouette of a figure whom was illuminated a dim silver by the mountain moon, his presence cast itself down upon her, looking at her not unlike she looked at others but his stature was bold and daunting, his semblance little more than shadow even with her keen eyes..
Kssshing... thud
A flash of metal from his belt, cast down into the earth as the sword, the blade engulfed itself in a bright preternatural flame, an artifact of power, a weapon of might, whose make traced lineage to a long lost age of heroes where the sword drew its origins from so too did Marcus's bloodline, it was called the leonine sword thus called owing to the lion head at the hilt whose eyes glew with flame.. and the flames illuminated Marcus's semblance allowing her to witness his full form, wolven cloak flowing in the winds as his hands rested upon the lions head at the hilt.
So.... at last I bear witness to the Goat-Ripper of Trebizon, hmph, or atleast that's what the villagers call you... nothing more than a girl hm ?
Marcus raised his left hand, showing the ring upon his finger that held a bright amber glow gravitating in her direction and briefly the same glow showed in his steel blue hues.
I know what you are... however, I laud your use of sorceries to conceal yourself... a fortnight ago, the merchant recounted your tale and what you did to his guards and he made sure that every village five hundred miliae in all directions knew of this. Every outpost. Every guard. Every man, and woman capable of handling a spear, sword or bow. Make no mistake of it, they would have little chance against you on their own, but living a life on the run is no way to live and eventually, your luck runs out, I would know. These lands, my lands, are poor in terms of produce, the people here are hardy folk subsisting off mountains and in the days of the Empire and even now, our principal export has and always will be soldiers, soldiers trained in the old way, in the ways of the legion... not just some peasant levy... warriors by right, by blood, by profession, in every village and town, men and women all the same... given these circumstances, your travels in these lands would not have been fortuitous and I could have cared less, but I don't want good experienced soldiers getting maimed on beast hunts as an excuse to avoid their duty... I also don't like seeing exceptional talent go to waste... I garnered even an owl needs a nest
Marcus paused studying her for a few moments before issuing a subtle grin.
My offer is simple, join me, for a while at least, as spymistress under House Leocadus, you shall have protections, you shall have a home and you shall be compensated for your duties, and in due time if you should find such a life befitting of yourself, then you shall be given lands to do so with as you please... I hope you understand the implications of this offer... I am giving you a chance to build and leave a legacy which goes far beyond the " Goat Ripper of Trebizond ", it is honor and respect that shall cement your name and the name of your progeny in history, today they slander your name as a daemon and omen of misfortune... tomorrow they may carve statues in your honor, I am a man of my word and the Wolf of Cornaeth looks after his pack. If you should decline, then I shall give you two nights to leave this place, I've ordered my men to tell the hunting party to stand down, as I look into this... do not be concerned for those people who helped you, they have been spared the pyre and exiled, in due time I will find them homes. I owe a lot to my people, they bleed for me and they see me as their leader, it is a great burden to bear, they are my pack and my pack is beyond everything to me... if by some consideration you intend to do harm to their person and their livelihood... then I will destroy you... I can ill-afford powers and talents such as yours falling into the wrong hands or cause... I hope you understand then, that despite the fact that I respect and admire what you are I must do what my duties and responsibilities entail me to do... alas, we live by the law of beasts... It is my hope that you shall consider your position wisely.
She would have been used to being the watcher and the stalker, honing her art over a long period of time, her survival inspite of her circumstances was testament to her skills however, this moonlit eve she was fated to meet him. Sova would know well that not all beasts resembled beasts and not all who resembled beasts were beasts, the former held true in the case of this man, there were those whom scorned him who called him The Wolf Of Cornaeth, and those that had marched under his banner or fought by his side called him by the Valradic Imperial moniker, Patr-Lukos - The Wolf Father and he had done enough to merit song and tale in many taverns, all the same as her, but legends were precisely that, spun out of proportion even if there was no smoke without fire.
The evening had announced itself with the thud of hooves and the bark of vicious hounds, though certainly nothing that Sova hadn't faced before, a mob of angry villagers demanding retribution for missing sheep or cows, rallied by superstition and blaming all misfortunes upon her coming those that had been kind were not offered courtesy as pyres within the village were being set up which should have meant the worst of things, wyches they said. They wouldn't have been much a match if it were not for the torches, it finally ceased but then the silence grew all too eerie.
Atop a rocky promontory amidst a clearing where the trees grew thin was the stalwart silhouette of a figure whom was illuminated a dim silver by the mountain moon, his presence cast itself down upon her, looking at her not unlike she looked at others but his stature was bold and daunting, his semblance little more than shadow even with her keen eyes..
Kssshing... thud
A flash of metal from his belt, cast down into the earth as the sword, the blade engulfed itself in a bright preternatural flame, an artifact of power, a weapon of might, whose make traced lineage to a long lost age of heroes where the sword drew its origins from so too did Marcus's bloodline, it was called the leonine sword thus called owing to the lion head at the hilt whose eyes glew with flame.. and the flames illuminated Marcus's semblance allowing her to witness his full form, wolven cloak flowing in the winds as his hands rested upon the lions head at the hilt.
So.... at last I bear witness to the Goat-Ripper of Trebizon, hmph, or atleast that's what the villagers call you... nothing more than a girl hm ?
Marcus raised his left hand, showing the ring upon his finger that held a bright amber glow gravitating in her direction and briefly the same glow showed in his steel blue hues.
I know what you are... however, I laud your use of sorceries to conceal yourself... a fortnight ago, the merchant recounted your tale and what you did to his guards and he made sure that every village five hundred miliae in all directions knew of this. Every outpost. Every guard. Every man, and woman capable of handling a spear, sword or bow. Make no mistake of it, they would have little chance against you on their own, but living a life on the run is no way to live and eventually, your luck runs out, I would know. These lands, my lands, are poor in terms of produce, the people here are hardy folk subsisting off mountains and in the days of the Empire and even now, our principal export has and always will be soldiers, soldiers trained in the old way, in the ways of the legion... not just some peasant levy... warriors by right, by blood, by profession, in every village and town, men and women all the same... given these circumstances, your travels in these lands would not have been fortuitous and I could have cared less, but I don't want good experienced soldiers getting maimed on beast hunts as an excuse to avoid their duty... I also don't like seeing exceptional talent go to waste... I garnered even an owl needs a nest
Marcus paused studying her for a few moments before issuing a subtle grin.
My offer is simple, join me, for a while at least, as spymistress under House Leocadus, you shall have protections, you shall have a home and you shall be compensated for your duties, and in due time if you should find such a life befitting of yourself, then you shall be given lands to do so with as you please... I hope you understand the implications of this offer... I am giving you a chance to build and leave a legacy which goes far beyond the " Goat Ripper of Trebizond ", it is honor and respect that shall cement your name and the name of your progeny in history, today they slander your name as a daemon and omen of misfortune... tomorrow they may carve statues in your honor, I am a man of my word and the Wolf of Cornaeth looks after his pack. If you should decline, then I shall give you two nights to leave this place, I've ordered my men to tell the hunting party to stand down, as I look into this... do not be concerned for those people who helped you, they have been spared the pyre and exiled, in due time I will find them homes. I owe a lot to my people, they bleed for me and they see me as their leader, it is a great burden to bear, they are my pack and my pack is beyond everything to me... if by some consideration you intend to do harm to their person and their livelihood... then I will destroy you... I can ill-afford powers and talents such as yours falling into the wrong hands or cause... I hope you understand then, that despite the fact that I respect and admire what you are I must do what my duties and responsibilities entail me to do... alas, we live by the law of beasts... It is my hope that you shall consider your position wisely.
(Their settings are very different, but Kira's used to multiverse shenanigans, so she's not terribly bothered. I hope you don't mind!)
"I have seen a thousand men just like you."
Her voice is even-keeled, her cadence calm, collected - cold - and her expression was nothing more than a perfect and practiced mask of impassivity. It was impossible to tell, then, if she'd meant it as praise or insult - if the way she stood before him, unafraid, at the very extent of her full height (still so, so far beneath his) was a measure of her respect or of wordless, bitter defiance.
"You've been steeped in blood - not always your enemies' blood, if I had to wager an educated guess. No matter where you go, or how long it has been since the last time you drew your sword against another living creature, there will never be enough soap or water that you will truly feel clean ever again. It's a familiar fate, but I don't wish it on you - or anyone else."
For all of the things she wouldn't wear on her sleeve, how every inner thought stayed inside and the workings of her mind seldom took root in the minutiae of her expressions, she'd give the Wolf - regardless of whatever Empire he served, or how she would have felt about him and his actions in his time, in his space, in his land - the smallest kindness and let some inkling of warmth ghost across her scar-wrought features like she was looking, sympathetic, understanding, at her own future. The shadow of a smile played across her lips, but her eyes told the rest of that story:
Those unerringly dark eyes were full of pity.
"Your hands were made hard by the things you have done. Your skin has been hardened by combat and the passage of time. Your eyes have been hardened by the things that you've seen-
My prayer for you is the same prayer I've got for myself: That you remember the times when your heart was soft, the people that made it that way, and you never let their absence or the things that you've had to do to survive harden it."
Gingerly tapping two fingers to her own chest, above where her heart - mechanical, mind, technology that was eons out of Marcus' reach and perhaps even his comprehension - sat, pumping blood through the parts of her that still yet lived as flesh.
"Don't forget your humanity, or you'll lose it."
It wasn't a threat, just a warning; one that came from a place she wasn't often genuine about displaying.
"I have seen a thousand men just like you."
Her voice is even-keeled, her cadence calm, collected - cold - and her expression was nothing more than a perfect and practiced mask of impassivity. It was impossible to tell, then, if she'd meant it as praise or insult - if the way she stood before him, unafraid, at the very extent of her full height (still so, so far beneath his) was a measure of her respect or of wordless, bitter defiance.
"You've been steeped in blood - not always your enemies' blood, if I had to wager an educated guess. No matter where you go, or how long it has been since the last time you drew your sword against another living creature, there will never be enough soap or water that you will truly feel clean ever again. It's a familiar fate, but I don't wish it on you - or anyone else."
For all of the things she wouldn't wear on her sleeve, how every inner thought stayed inside and the workings of her mind seldom took root in the minutiae of her expressions, she'd give the Wolf - regardless of whatever Empire he served, or how she would have felt about him and his actions in his time, in his space, in his land - the smallest kindness and let some inkling of warmth ghost across her scar-wrought features like she was looking, sympathetic, understanding, at her own future. The shadow of a smile played across her lips, but her eyes told the rest of that story:
Those unerringly dark eyes were full of pity.
"Your hands were made hard by the things you have done. Your skin has been hardened by combat and the passage of time. Your eyes have been hardened by the things that you've seen-
My prayer for you is the same prayer I've got for myself: That you remember the times when your heart was soft, the people that made it that way, and you never let their absence or the things that you've had to do to survive harden it."
Gingerly tapping two fingers to her own chest, above where her heart - mechanical, mind, technology that was eons out of Marcus' reach and perhaps even his comprehension - sat, pumping blood through the parts of her that still yet lived as flesh.
"Don't forget your humanity, or you'll lose it."
It wasn't a threat, just a warning; one that came from a place she wasn't often genuine about displaying.
"Hmm.... I have a lot of questions about Kira Slater.... what did they look like.... what was their interests.... how old they were.... Everything. All I have to go on is a name on the obituary page. I wonder if they were related to Ray Slater, a guy I knew in high school."
"You really look like you'd be living the mundane life."
Igeus doesn't bat an eye much, nor does he smile either.
"The way you dress is nice though, I could be fooled into thinking you maybe the son of rich businessman,
or a criminal lord of sorts. I don't think I'd be surprised if you were."
Igeus shrugs.
Igeus doesn't bat an eye much, nor does he smile either.
"The way you dress is nice though, I could be fooled into thinking you maybe the son of rich businessman,
or a criminal lord of sorts. I don't think I'd be surprised if you were."
Igeus shrugs.
Your countenance seems to be of the sorcerous and eerie sorts, as if you relish in macabre grimoires and ornaments pertaining to preternatural consequences.
Marcus added, narrowing his gaze before issuing a grin
I do like the candles, they give me a reason to put these silvers hanging upon my belt to use, I'm sure Canonness Elyria will welcome the prospect of such auspicious decorations when we partake in sacrament.
Marcus added, narrowing his gaze before issuing a grin
I do like the candles, they give me a reason to put these silvers hanging upon my belt to use, I'm sure Canonness Elyria will welcome the prospect of such auspicious decorations when we partake in sacrament.
He sat in front of Marcus wagging his tail as he did when he was a pup with the same puppy-like look when Marcus first got him and raised him. There was an automatic trust in his eyes. He would offer Marcus his paw.
"It's a dog, not much more to say really. I mean...it's a really neat looking dog and I have no doubt that he's a very good boy. 100% would pet him."
"On the surface, you'd strike me as nothing more than a mere boring mortal with a few skeletons in their closet.
Nothing you'd lose sleep over I'm sure, doctor."
The large demon chuckles for a split moment, then drags a dark claw along his sharp chin.
Nothing you'd lose sleep over I'm sure, doctor."
The large demon chuckles for a split moment, then drags a dark claw along his sharp chin.
Dana was a bit drunk after she left the party. She saw the big red dude who seemed to shrink to a typical size Was her eyes playing tricks on her?
"Hey, that's quite the halloween costume you have there. ..."
"Hey, that's quite the halloween costume you have there. ..."
He smiled "hey you look smart! You're probably smart!" he smiled
"I like that hairstyle. How do you get it to stay standing up on end like that?"
“I like how you make the air smell from afar. That salty brine scent that accompanies the sou day of the waves crashing onto the beach. Don’t like you getting in my eyes though. Stings.”
Wow.
Insanely hot. Got to love the gymnast build. Wonder if she has a boyfriend? 😉
Insanely hot. Got to love the gymnast build. Wonder if she has a boyfriend? 😉
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