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"It's not my fault that people listen better to the end of a sword and the foundation of their wealth being destroyed than polite conversations..."

The person below has faced a crossroads in their life; do they regret taking the route they have taken.

“I’ve faced crossroads in my life, and I have no regrets on any of the decisions I’ve made. Could certain outcomes have been better had I went right instead of left? Maybe. Maybe not. We will never know.”

The character below me is doing something illegal.

Cyler squinted at the Julia. "No one can prove that I was there..."

The character below has unseen potential waiting to be unlocked.

Lizbeth lifts an eyebrow, astonished but incredulous. “What in the world would a tender and soft doe have of a hidden potential? Maybe X-ray vision?” she grins as she can look at someone with her big piercing and melting deer eyes as if looking right through that someone.

“The character below is a hunter, that goes after wild animals, including deer”

Wilson gawked for a moment, sunken eyes widening with a glimmer of wonderment. He was attempting to make heads or tails of the being that stood before him. She certainly didn't look like a threat, but looks were almost always deceiving, particularly within the Constant.

"Certainly no Deerclops," he interjected after the doe made her impish riposte. "But to answer your question, mi'dear, even a gentleman scientist has to eat, so yes, I'm afraid I am quite the avid hunter. One must do what they have to in order to survive..."

Wilson paused and quickly threw up his hands, "The lass or chap below me is one heck of a class act. Very demure or dapper, depending! You'll never catch this person unawares or unprepared."

" It is a virtue vested in me on account of a Mordian heritage. We are professionals when it comes to battle and we conduct ourselves so, though we are mocked for our dilligence to form, i've yet to see another guard regiment that can march through a campaign without so much as a blemish upon their wares. "

The character below me belongs to the 40k universe.

*tech-priest noises*

The character below aspires to the purity of the blessed machine.

"If the machine in question is my sewing machine, then yeah, sure."
The character below becomes nauseous at the sight of blood.

(Countess Aliprandi, 1rst Gen)

"Blood?" The Countess wrinkled her nose as if she had smelled something unpleasant. "Ew. I'm just making one thing clear, my household staff isn't going to mop any revolting red bodily fluid left around by commoners." She fanned herself with a bejeweled hand. "Nauseous is putting it mildly, why it's simply an outrage that any person of good standing should be confronted with such a vile and disgusting spectacle. The impudence!"

Turning her head stubbornly to refuse even acknowledging the thought of someone's blood in the same room as herself, she crisply joined her fingertips. "I don't hold the slightest doubt that the character below me is not born noble. All these 'nouveau riches' these days are such a blight, thinking they can mingle with us just because their parents or grandparents were decent salesmen. Tsk! I would know, I had the misfortune of having two married off to my children..." and she went on complaining about the absolutely appalling spouses of Charles and Astoria.

“Thou assume right, Mylady. Thus I’m of no benewed richness blessed. I’m just a simple doe, that has found her peace.” Lizbeth respectfully bows to the Countess.
“Still do I suppose that the person below me is blessed with a big amount of gold. Maybe the right person for the sake of thou descendant, Mylady”

"Gold? Pfft, ha! That, and more than you can think of, toots," Nice Man Blake guffawed, brows scoffingly raised above eyes flickering with mockery. "Cute wording, though, I'll give ya that. Those shitheads back in the day really had their legendary heaps of ye olde royal coins, didn't they? Certainly smells like you're from that kinda scenery." A furry snout-faced chick. People really went the extra mile to be hilarious these days. Shaking his head and puffing out the occasional chuckle of disbelief, Blake circled around Lizbeth, rubbing his thumb between his eyebrows before he addressed her again. "Nah, nah, sweet cheeks, listen here. Gold doesn't mean shit when it comes down to it, 'specially not if it's ol' pop's money. Real wealth is the kinda shit you earn through working your pretty ass off- that's how you know you're worth your buck." Arms crossed over a metal-plated chest, he glanced the fuzzy lady up and down, before uttering a soft snort and turning away. Man, he really had to pop out in this portion of cyberspace more often, he was getting a good laugh out of this. ⠀⠀"Having said that.." he continued after a while, scanning the void for the next victim, "the lil' sucko up next better be a smartass of some sort who doesn't even bother with all this wealth talk. Y'know, all your scholarly types an' the like." Definitely had no shortage of those in the Glass Spire. Bumbling white-coated eggheads who loved to remind him that they were only as capable as the books that they'd studied.

Be careful when you call some random person names, or you might find yourself being disassembled for your parts and meat while you're still alive and screaming. I know some artificers that would pay well or owe me a favor for those extra pieces you have.

Anyone familiar with the arcane has done some scholarly work or influence, even it it wasn't legal or reputable. But the results are what I care about.

The character below me . . . has an animal companion or some kind of pet.