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    1. Flychageo 10 yrs ago

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Dameon sighed and flexed his injured hand. It was stiff and painful, but nothing was broken. "The sun still grants me small favors, I suppose" He said quietly. His flight from Sappir had been messier than he would have liked, but there was very little in his life that was not a bit of a mess at this point. A spume of freezing salt water crashed over the side of the boat he was on, soaking the gray, homespun cloak that disguised his intricate armor. It mattered not however, for the Immortal power of the sun was more than enough to keep him warm.

He sighed deeply and went over the past night's event in his head. He had meant to slip out to the docks of Sappir unmolested, with his last pieces of dignity and equipment still intact, however clearly god had to test his fortitude further. As he reached the docks he saw the glittering golden armor that was bestowed upon the army of the sun on two soldiers, who were clearly waiting to accost him.

He drew up his horse about ten feet from them, and stood, glaring at them, his gaze unwavering. Finally one spoke. "Dameon, my friend, it's good to see that you're so eager to begin your banishment before the council has even bestowed it upon you, but I am afraid we must relieve you of your sword, armor, and amulet before you go, seeing sa you are no longer welcome by Solarus." His tone was conversational almost friendly, but his eyes spit venom, and he and his companion both drew their wickedly sharp blades.

"I mean no dishonor to the Great Tribune, of course. I will come quietly" Dameon said. He dismounted his horse and stepped forward, his arms outstretched, his mighty blade, Whom he had named Helios, sheathed upon his back. The guards approached warily, one with his sword raised, the other with a length of chain.

Dameon struck out fast as lighting, these soldiers were good, but he was one of the King's Clerics, or at least, he was. He smashed his gauntlet into the man with the sword's face so hard that even his own hand had a bolt of pain run through it, he then turned his body and lowered his stance, letting the other man's sword whistle just above his gray hair. He then shot upwards, driving his pauldron hard into the underside of the soldier's chin. Both fell to the ground unconscious, but he merely climbed onto his horse again. He felt no need to slay his brethren, even if they had cast him out. He kicked hard into the sides of his horse and continued onto the docks.

He had bartered his horse for passage on the first boat heading out, which turned out to be a swift merchant vessel headed for Wortgott. The town sounded terribly provincial to Dameon, but he really had no other choice. Wortgott it was.

His eyes shot open, The great sun had once again dawned upon the dark world, bathing it in her divine light. He said his morning prayers on the bow of the ship, facing ever towards the sun.

"Hey" a gruff voice called out. It was the captain of the ship. "We'll be in Wortgott in about an hour" Dameon sighed. Wartgott wasn't in Sappir, but there would still probably be spies of the Great Tribune hunting him. He needed to find another boat, one that would'nt ask questions, that could take him far away and hide him. When the boat arrived he stepped out onto the docks, breathed in the fresh salty air, and started looking for a suitable vessel.
Hello folks, Ill be traveling over the next 5 or so days, which means most of my posts will be written on mobile, So I apologize in advance for spelling errors and shorter posts!
Name: Dameon Grayfire

Age: 57

Nationality: Sappir

Race(s): Faelorn

Background:
Biography: Dameon grew up in one of the noble families of Sappir, and as such was groomed from birth to serve the priests of Solarity. He showed to have a knack for his studies and a quick mind, and as such climbed through the ranks of the clergy at a reasonable pace. By age 40 he had become a Cleric, one of the Warrior-Priest caste of solarity. The day he received his brand, his sword, and his rites of a cleric was the happiest of his life. However the God of the Sun clearly had a different fate set in mind for Dameon. One of Dameon's tasks as a cleric was guarding the King, and as the Coal Arm ended the King's life, so to did it end Dameon's life in the clergy. Stripped of his title, but not of his devotion, he was cast out of his religion by his own comrades for his failure. However before they could take from him his sword, equipment, and pride, he took off into the night, determined to somehow avenge his king's death and once more return to the order of the Acolytes of the Sun.

Personality: Dameon is haughty and arrogant, and can be quite supercilious to others, especially mixed-breeds and infidels. However he is also deeply loyal to those he trusts, and will drop everything to help them. Dameon is extremely pious, and to him his religion and the creed that comes along with it comes before all else. He is driven a need to avenge his king and return to his homeland, but has no real idea about how to do that. He is usually calm and a quick learner, but doesn't adapt very well to complex situations.

Religion: Solarity

Appearance:
Clothing: White robes with gold trim, on top of this he wears Ivory colored armor, but just greaves, gauntlets, and Pauldrons. In addition he has an amulet and ring that show his rank as a cleric, and a large golden Great sword strapped to his back

Height: 6'3 (although his unwaveringly erect posture gives him an even taller appearence)

Weight: 135 lbs

Build: Extremely slight, as most Faelorn are. However what he lacks in strength he makes up for in dexterity.

Hair: Gray and flows down to the middle of his back, often braided or put in a pony tail when he must fight.

Eyes: Pale Blue, with a gaze that could bore holes into iron

Tattoos/Markings: A brand in the center of his chest depicting the sun.
Also here is my 2 second lesson on New Orleans

It's easily the most interesting city in the U.S. and has a weird culture that's a combination of both French and Redneck ,called Cajun. Like Holland, the city is below sea level, and the water is held back by a series of levies, which break down quickly if left unattended (and in fact, already have during Hurricane Katrina). It is surrounded by swamps, and is the center of American "Voodoo" culture.

Pretty cool place.
Totts said
But 100 degrees is like when stuff sets on fire and water boils?Am I just being stupid?


Farenheit yo, the best way to tell the temperature...

Just kidding, it makes no sense at all, please help us gods of the Metric system.
Yep. My vote, by the way, if for either French or German on the Western Front.
Sarge said
In the meantime, I'd like people to start thinking about how they want to start things off. Should we all be in separate groups to begin with and meet up at a later point, or should we begin as a group having been forced together following some kind of calamitous event (I was thinking forced to take cover from a herd of walkers in the same building, or something like that)? My character sheet is now up on the front page. Marcus Calderón.


I have been exchanging PM's with a few people, and I believe that Tatsua (Jackson) and I will be arriving having already met. Another person has expressed interest in arriving with us, but hasn't confirmed, so I believe she might have changed her mind.

Also, Have you given any thought as to where in New Orleans the cafe is? It is probably more sensible if we meet in one of the suburbs, seeing as the center of the city would be swarming with geeks.
Exactly what I've been looking for, Interested.
Nick's relief was palpable. When he first saw the gun he had almost sprung away down the aisle, but this man clearly had no intent to hurt him. Nick reached out and tentatively shook the man's hand, his eyes, however, remained on the gun in the holster.

"Nick" He said "My name is Nick... uh... Baker" His eyes met Bradley's for an instant, then quickly moved to the floor. He had never been good at introductions, especially now when the man he was talking to had a gun on him mere moments before. Still the man, Bradley, seemed confident and friendly, and Mark couldn't help but feel at ease around him.

" I umm, I really don't need to grab much else, my backpack is almost full anyway" he told Bradley. " I uh, I'm on a bike so I can't really carry much else... I have a bike, I mean, I bike, I mean..." Shit, even in the apocalypse he couldn't help stuttering like an imbecile. "I biked as a messenger before this disease came along, as a job, not as cool as a mechanic, but you know..." He trailed off again, then remembered something very important. "Wait, you said you've seen others sleeping, are they ok? Is there a cure? What happened? are we the only ones left?" He could see that Bradley was a bit surprised by his flood of inquiries.

"Sorry, It's just that I've been holed up in my apartment for days, I have no clue whats going on..."

Bradley looked like he was about to answer when they heard a voice behind them.
Tatsua Aiisen said
His wife was vacationing in Florida with his parents when shit hit the fan, so he and his daughter embarked on an epic journey across almost the entirety of the united states to find her. I was thinking of talking to Fly about our characters being companions, since they might have met while my character was mid-journey.


I'm not opposed to the idea, but my character's ultimate goal is to actually get to Florida heading East from the West, because he believes that Key West is safe. So unless your character made it West of New Orleans and doubled back, it might be difficult to reconcile.

Never mind, misread your post.
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