Feeling so tired that the coffee isn't working anymore e.e
5 yrs ago
Posts coming out slower than expected. But they'll be done by tonight e.e
Bio
So... I'm a writer... A gamer and an anime nerd... Uh... I love fantasy ans Sci-fi. And I have a weakness for romance. I'm also gay.... My best friend and I joke around and say that I caught the ghey. My best friend is also a trash talking dwarf. No lie. He's 4'9 has longer hair than most women and a beard. Anyways.... I ramble about stuff often... I'm pretty socially awkward but get me on a topic I like and I'll talk for days....
Vilkas listened intently as Ao'ra talked about enchantments. It sparked his own curiosity in his own form of magic. He knew he was never going to be a true Dragon Warrior. He didn't like the fighting and teeth and such. He was interested in Magic in it's purest forms. Dromon had added a great fuel to the fire of his quest when he trained the young dragon. Living enchantments... He had heard Vescartes talk about such things but never really understood it. He ate, his plate rather filled with meats.
"My grandfather, Vescartes oft talked about that... To the Dragons there are three types of known Enchantment categories. Activated, Living and Eternal. Activated enchantments are things like weapon enchantments which you can put a bit of power in and it activated. Living are generally armor and accessory enchantments. They draw on the users or stored mana continuously and work until the mana runs out. Third is Eternal. Artifacts generally use this. They draw on the natural power generated around them. They rarely cease to function. They generally require an anomalous font of mana. We have... quite a few since our magics tend to leak when we get older. Dromon caused a few that have been around for as long as any of us can remember. The main enchantment around our home is fueled by several of them. I never got to look at them, I'm still too young to have developed the draconic arcane sight. I can still sense magic in other beings, however." He keeps eating. Up close his eyes seem to flicker like firelight in a hearth, warm and conforting. The iris swirls with gold hues and a spark of fiery red.
Vilkas followed the group along the tour, noting places of interest and things he wanted to see. It reminded him of Dromon's cave, with the subtle traces of residual magic. Even though he couldn't see the magic without arcane vision, he'd always been attuned to it. From in had said this was the first sign that the Old Way had chosen him. Walking the halls he placed a hand along the walls, feeling, the subtle nearly undetectable hum of ancient magic. It felt almost as old as the Cave he spent a decade in. The Castle couldn't compare to this and Descartes kept the entire thing afloat with his magic and the anomaly, which he had come to realize was Dromon's first attempt at Runeword magic.
If the rooms, he noticed there was no smithy, he was a bit saddened but figured not a lot of people would be interested in the same things as him. He had come to enjoy the harsh blaze of the gorge and creating unique enchantments. He made a mental note to ask R later. When they came to their rooms he placed his hand on the door with his name.
Pushing open the door he stopped and stared. A massive landscape, covered in clouds and the moon overhead. The place appeared to be weathered by time yet on the main platform a solid bed, dresser, wardrobe and mirror stood. A small bathing pool stood in the back, leading to a falls that seemed to have no end. When the sun would rise in this place, there was a large area for running himself with a nice perch got for a dragon. The area seemed surreal to Vilkas. He dropped his pack next to the bed and put a foot in the water. It was nice and hot, the stone around it brimming with warmth. He found a pair of boots sitting in the wardrobe and he took them along with a tunic, putting them on. "Much better...
Leaving the room he heads to the mess hall. He hadn't eaten in quite a while and so was pretty famished. He arrived just as the anubis mentioned the small human girl's neclace. Ar´oa and Stephanie he recalled. He got food and walked over. "Would it be alright if I sat with you?"
Vilkas watched the Bosnian with a bemused expression. He knew the race was a bit strange, having seen the one Brand found nearly half dead. The apples it shed smelled rather pleasant to him and he waited for it to finish. "Well hello to you too. I see that you're happy to see me." Looking to Suriel he nodded. " that would b be appreciated." He took in the opportunity to take in his surroundings. It was a beautiful bastion. The architecture reminded him of a fortress Matriarch Jera created back home. Though hers was more metal and less stone since she created it with her magic. He noted that the others are moving so he follows.
Entering just before Suriel he feels the change from outside stone work to interior flooring with his bare feet. With a bit of mental effort his shifted his feet to reflect his scaly hide and boost his resistance to cold stone floors. He looked at the others, seeing a very strange group indeed. He'd oft heard From in talking about how the world was undergoing a shift. Something he mentioned that led to him to tell Vilkas he was a Harbinger of Change. Seeing this group he knew Fate was pushing him along. While usually subtle, Fate will sometimes push those it deems necessary.
As the Master entered, he could feel it. It was a similar feeling to how Dromon took up space, only softer. Even without being able to see magic, as he was still developing that, he could tell he was just as powerful as his teacher. He instantly wondered who was the older of the two, for the Master was definitely not Human if head be at one point. The mask to him, looked both very interesting and made him wonder what he looked like underneath.
"I am Vilkas, Uh." He looks around. " Dromon sends his regards and wishes the Sanctuary well."
As her wings covered his body, Vilkas shifted into his human form, unfortunately he was very undressed and as he opened his eyes he looked up into Suriel's face. "Uh... Are you an Angel... Did I die... Oh gods... Dromon's gonna resurrect me just to kill me again..." He scowls. "Gramps would probably tell me 'I told you so'..." He looked around. "Wat... I'm in a pool of... That's a lot of blood..." Looking around for his pack he sees it over by the back entrance. Pushim himself yp, not really caring for the nudity since he destroyed his last pair shifting for the fight with the flying dremorians. He searched the large canvas bag and pulled out a pair of pants he kept just for this event. "I'll have to get boots later... And new clothes. Had to leave my clothes bag back in the village..." He grumbled to himself.
With his back to the others, they can see that a lattice of scars and tattoos line his body, even going up to his front, done in a swirly entrancing way, leading over to his shoulder with the rune for strength Uru in gold. When he turns there are even more scars on his front, remnants of his decade of training under the rather militant gaze of his teacher.
Turning around he looked at the scene before him. "Sorry for the whole bleeding on your floor. I'm Vilkas Excellion, the student of Divine Dragon Dromon and scion of Vescartes, Patriarch of Tempest Peak Borealis clan. I uh.. Was told I could get training here. In the Old Way." He shoulders his bag. Looking over he sees the Veldish. "Oh wow... I've seen one of you before but it was young, a few decades old. Brend was studying it to learn more about Green Magic. It's an honor to meet you." Looking at Suriel. "Thank you for healing me. I know it probably drained a bit out of you..."
Tatem is rugged, pierced and tattooed. Standing at a imposing 6'5" he's nicknamed the Giant. He's a smoker, often stepping out for a quick break while on patrol. He keeps himself as tidy as he can, though blood is a bit difficult to remove from clothes. When he is using his powers the runic tattoos across his body light up helping him focus the energy.
Personality:
A Bloody Tactician
Tatem is brash and straightforward. He says what he says without any emotion attached, coming across sometimes as blunt and arrogant. His methodology of dealing with things in his way are not the best, as in a hostage situation he'd tell the person to kill the hostage and when they were gone he'd coat the walls in their blood. He finds amusement in breaking his enemies psychologically, tearing at them bit by bit before he's done with them and to him, death is a kindness in this world. He believes that the Strong will survive and the weak will perish in the fires of Ragnorak. He doesn't really care of the suffering of innocents.
"They'll all die off anyways... We're not here to save... We're here to kill everything. Tear it down life by life. We fight to end existence itself, so quit sheltering the kid and just let it die. Here, I'll put him out of his misery. What do you mean, no? It'll die soon enough anyways."
Tatem knows he's not invincible, but he's still able to roll with the punches and adapt accordingly. He prefers to deal with targets from a safe distance but will gladly take them on up close. He's usually the scout, as he can slip in and out of places and take out targets before they notice he's there. He is usually seen maintaining his weapons and training or sparring. Training one's mind is just as important as training the body. As the oldest, he views that while he should be an example to them, he really doesn't give a shit. They are all different in their own way and he's just glad he's not alone.
When Stjerne took him, he'd been on the run from the father of his best friend who had been killed and eaten by a group of demons. He was the one they blamed when he failed to stop his friend from leaving the safe spot early. Stjerne struck the man down with a blast of light and pushed him through a portal he'd made to the facility. He was very critical of Tatem's training and mental acuity, driving him to be better and stronger. Tatem never saw him smile, laugh or be visibly happy, which drove him to be more reserved in his words and actions.
God: Stjerne, Lord of the Cosmos
Stjerne is
Deamis: This is the Deamis you have been corrupted with. Again you are entirely in control of making up this Deamis. What their domain is. Their lore. And these Deamis will be the base of the 10 Kings.
Packing was a difficult endeavor for him. His mother was worried, his father, non too happy and Vescartes had yet to speak to him. One would think he'd see him off but he had left early in the morning. Vilkas took it all in stride, bidding his family goodbye. Dromon had come by the day before for a bit of instruction and he felt confident enough that he would do well. Shifting and strapping the bag to his leg he set off eastward to the mainland, hsis father with his armor in another bag besid him. It wasn't too long of a journey for the dragon. His wingbeats were strong and steady. When he was hungry he dove down beneath the waves to hunt his bag protected by his mother's powerful enchantments. It would not burn, get wet and she had added an enchantment for keeping food fresh for a longer time. It took half a day, crossing over the Border Island before he reached the shore. He shifted and pulled on his clothes, his father watching him as he set off.
He wandered, meeting people and helping them. He rarely used his dragon form but they knew they existed and he kept just out of reach from any who would cause him trouble as they knew Dragons were rather strong. Vilkas helped quite a few people over the year and a half he was wandering. He made a few enemies, particularly a merc compy from the Dremorian Empire and several of the new super soldiers he defeated protecting a small village from being raided. He almost lost that but with his shifting and the blood rune version of Hagala, he whipped up such a storm they had to retreat or die. The downside was that he was severely weakened from the encounter, having only bought enough time for the villagers to escape. He limped weakly into the forest, hoping to lose them. He had broken a wing and was in too much pain to shift out of it, making his progress slow. After an hour he found a river in a gorge. With the Dremorians hot on his tail he threw himself in, clutching his bag to his chest. "I need to get to the Sanctuary... But how in the hells am I to find it..."
When he came to he found himself lying on a rocky beach, blackness encroaching his vision. He groaned as he pushed himself up, noting his wings were torn in several places. High up on the cliff he could see a large structure, almost like a castle. He picked up his things in his maw and carried them as he made his way around to get up the cliff. Thankfully a path had been carved out and well maintained. A soft rain had started and mixed with the dragon's blood. He made it about halfway up the path before he slipped, claws scrambling for purchase on the rock. Flaring his unbroken wing for support he caught himself. "That would have been a long tumble I can't take right now..." He kept climbing, reaching the top of the cliff where he could see the structure for what it was. A large bastion, positively radiating magic to his draconic eyes. He kept moving forward, reaching the back entrance. It was there he finally collapsed, body unwilling to move another foot forward. Dropping his bag he succumbed to the black, his wounds and blood rune use too much for him.
Vilkas appears as either a tall slightly tanned humanoid with a dark beard and short spiky hair. A tattoo of the draconic runic symbol of strength rests on his right shoulder. his eyes are a burning gold color, that seems to swirl when looked at directly. His dragon form is a smaller red and black dragon. His wingspan stretched out ten meters in either direction and he can hold two fully plated riders.
Age: 183
Race: Dragonkin
Personality: Vilkas is a very active person. He likes being around people, yet often fears his lack of shifting control will hurt them... as a massive dragon is a bit hard to deal with. He is a collector, collecting various geodes and crystals. He has a strong will and is incredibly stubborn. He also gets angry when met with failure. In his studies, he learns quickly, trying to absorb as much information as he can, to learn about himself and maybe even figure out how to advance the world around him.
History:
A sudden storm was the warning sign that something unusual was happening. It was clear before but as he looked up from the pool of rapidly growing blood at the rain falling on his face, he saw a great shadow fall over him. A large elderly dragon looked down at the young man. “Oh dear… This is not good... Bex Lagos.” He breathed a slow flame over his body and rapidly the blood reversed its direction and he was healed. “There you go... What is your name, little dragon?”
“V-Vilkas… Sir…” The young man pushed himself up to a sitting position. “He reddened slightly from the embarrassment of it all, being found in a pool of his own blood casting magic that his father forbade him to use.
The older dragon shifted down to his human form, a rather tall bunch slightly hunched older man. He held out a hand “Ix.” A tendril of wood formed and shot up to make him a staff. “There is nothing to be ashamed for young one. I too use that very same magic. It has been a long time since I’ve seen one so young able to use it so well. If you would like… I can teach you the basics. But there are several rules that you must abide by. One, do not use blood to fuel it’s power unless you are in dire straits. You would treat it like any other blood rune. Second, you are not to tell anyone I trained you unless I tell you to. Third, you will not ask for my name, either. You will find it out in due time. Now come, Young Vilkas…”
He spent a decade, training under the watchful eye of the Teacher, as he called him. Learning the basics and how to defend himself. “It is not a kind world out there.. I have seen many a being fall from being unaware.. You need to be mindful of all that surrounds you. Wyrd draws not on just you but of the strength of the magic around you. You are merely a catalyst that sets it in motion. That is the basis of all magic… Now.. See the candles… I want you to cast Tau on the middle one. Just the middle one. I want you to set only that one candle alight… It’s difficult, yes? Now watch… Tas.” The middle candle alights softly. “Don’t focus on it too hard... “
“Why am I doing this? It’s not like it’ll help with my control of the Wyrd..” Vilkas grumbles after exploding the candles again for what seemed like the hundredth time.
“It is not for your control of the Wyrd, boy. It is about your control of yourself.” He smiles softly. “Your shifting is out of control. You can barely maintain human form when you are angry. The candles will help you realize your ability to shift with fine control. You are already ahead of most of our kind, you have the Wyrd. It took me a century to get to where you are now. I could see you one day becoming a Patriarch. Now, keep practicing, and if you shift and tear your clothes you’ll be making your own repairs.” He left the cave.
At the end of the year his teacher sent him off back home. “You have learned all I can teach you in this moment. You have a clan to return to.”
“Do you have a clan, Master?” Vilkas hiked his pack up on his shoulder. He had grown from the frightened young boy to a man, easily shifting between forms, though his anger problem was there still. “I’m sure Patriarch Vescartes would be willing to take you in. You might even be stronger than he is..”
“Vescartes… I remember the youngling.” He smirks. “I’m fine. You have a Moot to attend. You came out here looking for a purpose and found it. You have grown into your power and the Council would do well to see to your full training. Now go… I will see you again, Novitate Vilkas.” He turned and entered his cave.
Vilkas traveled back home. He flew with a newfound strength, arriving back with his clan. Vescartes and his father were furious, he’d left without so much as goodbye and then seemingly vanished for a full year with no trace of him being gone. He settled back into life with the Borealis Clan and when it came time for the Moot, he went with them, though his father had him under watch so he wouldn’t sneak away. It was a big shock to all who gathered when a large grey dragon landed. When he shifted Vilkas recognized him as his teacher. “Divine Dragon Dromon… It is an honor to see you here..”
“I see he is not yet among the dead.” Baladora, a matriarch of the Vulcan clan called out. “I thought he’d sleep till the world ended.”
“Hush Baladora, I have a few centuries left I would think. Now.. I would like to place a name forward for the Pilgrimage. Vilkas Excellion come here, young one.” Dromon spotted the young dragon. Vilkas swallowed and made his way through the crowd. When he got to Dromon he put a hand on his shoulder. “First I would like to apologize for taking this fine young dragon from his clan for the last decade. I have been personally training him in the old Way. I believe he could learn a lot from travelling abroad and seeing the world. If he wishes it, I will send him to the Sanctuary. I have an.. Old friend there who would be able to give him the training he needs.” And like that, it was decided, he would go off to train in the Sanctuary after exploring the civilized lands for a while. It had been a while since they they sent anyone to the Sanctuary, as it was only the Elders who’d ever gone. Vilkas learned the only one who could send people there was Dromon, but it confused Vilkas.
“I will not send you there specifically, you will find it on your own. It has a… way of doing that. I know I could find it again if I tried. I get along well with it’s Master. He is a decent person. If you feel you are in danger along your journey, simply try and find the Sanctuary. Now… You have preparations to do and the Elders are very interested in seeing how far you’ve come into your magic in the last decade.”
Magic:
Alteration/Runic Writing
Wyrd: The ancient magic only a few dragons and certain beings have been able to use. Drawing upon the power of Runes one can summon the effect directly into reality, calling fire or storm, depending on how the rune is used. Drawn runes are stronger and more draining, with blood being the strongest as it draws it's power directly from one's lifeforce.- Apprentice level
Dragons Breath: He breathes dragonfire, a type of fire that cannot be quenched by anything less than water or ice magic at it's level. Can burns as long as he tells it to. Only usuable in dragon form.- Mastery
Skills:
Advanced Combat training: Journeyman Vilkas has training in the sword, staff and the bow. From his time working under his mentor and his father he proved to be a natural with the blade, earning the nickname Bladedancer.
Multilingual: Expert Has studied several languages and dialects, can interpret many different types of runic languages.
Wilderness Survival: All dragons are trained in this, as it's a bit expected they know how to hunt and take down prey. Knowing what food is good to eat and being able to survive off the land as they have done for centuries. Vilkas showed himself a bit more on the cunning side with his trapmaking and using his superior dragon senses to track his targets.
Bardic Skills: Vilkas took this up when he was young, as he wasn't into the fighting like the others were. This made sure they still liked him as his songs were how he first found out about his magic. He can play the lute, flute, and sing. Drawing upon his magic he can set up simple harmonies using the wind.
Artificer Apprentice: Vilkas is an aspiring magical artificer. It was part of his learning enchantments by his Grandfather. He is an Adept in enchantments of Light, Fire and Air.
Vilkas appears as either a tall slightly tanned humanoid with a dark beard and short spiky hair. A tattoo of the draconic runic symbol of strength rests on his right shoulder. his eyes are a burning gold color, that seems to swirl when looked at directly. His dragon form is a smaller red and black dragon. His wingspan stretched out ten meters in either direction and he can hold two fully plated riders.
Age: 183
Race: Dragonkin
Personality: Vilkas is a very active person. He likes being around people, yet often fears his lack of shifting control will hurt them... as a massive dragon is a bit hard to deal with. He is a collector, collecting various geodes and crystals. He has a strong will and is incredibly stubborn. He also gets angry when met with failure. In his studies, he learns quickly, trying to absorb as much information as he can, to learn about himself and maybe even figure out how to advance the world around him.
History:
A sudden storm was the warning sign that something unusual was happening. It was clear before but as he looked up from the pool of rapidly growing blood at the rain falling on his face, he saw a great shadow fall over him. A large elderly dragon looked down at the young man. “Oh dear… This is not good... Bex Lagos.” He breathed a slow flame over his body and rapidly the blood reversed its direction and he was healed. “There you go... What is your name, little dragon?”
“V-Vilkas… Sir…” The young man pushed himself up to a sitting position. “He reddened slightly from the embarrassment of it all, being found in a pool of his own blood casting magic that his father forbade him to use.
The older dragon shifted down to his human form, a rather tall bunch slightly hunched older man. He held out a hand “Ix.” A tendril of wood formed and shot up to make him a staff. “There is nothing to be ashamed for young one. I too use that very same magic. It has been a long time since I’ve seen one so young able to use it so well. If you would like… I can teach you the basics. But there are several rules that you must abide by. One, do not use blood to fuel it’s power unless you are in dire straits. You would treat it like any other blood rune. Second, you are not to tell anyone I trained you unless I tell you to. Third, you will not ask for my name, either. You will find it out in due time. Now come, Young Vilkas…”
He spent a decade, training under the watchful eye of the Teacher, as he called him. Learning the basics and how to defend himself. “It is not a kind world out there.. I have seen many a being fall from being unaware.. You need to be mindful of all that surrounds you. Wyrd draws not on just you but of the strength of the magic around you. You are merely a catalyst that sets it in motion. That is the basis of all magic… Now.. See the candles… I want you to cast Tau on the middle one. Just the middle one. I want you to set only that one candle alight… It’s difficult, yes? Now watch… Tas.” The middle candle alights softly. “Don’t focus on it too hard... “
“Why am I doing this? It’s not like it’ll help with my control of the Wyrd..” Vilkas grumbles after exploding the candles again for what seemed like the hundredth time.
“It is not for your control of the Wyrd, boy. It is about your control of yourself.” He smiles softly. “Your shifting is out of control. You can barely maintain human form when you are angry. The candles will help you realize your ability to shift with fine control. You are already ahead of most of our kind, you have the Wyrd. It took me a century to get to where you are now. I could see you one day becoming a Patriarch. Now, keep practicing, and if you shift and tear your clothes you’ll be making your own repairs.” He left the cave.
At the end of the year his teacher sent him off back home. “You have learned all I can teach you in this moment. You have a clan to return to.”
“Do you have a clan, Master?” Vilkas hiked his pack up on his shoulder. He had grown from the frightened young boy to a man, easily shifting between forms, though his anger problem was there still. “I’m sure Patriarch Vescartes would be willing to take you in. You might even be stronger than he is..”
“Vescartes… I remember the youngling.” He smirks. “I’m fine. You have a Moot to attend. You came out here looking for a purpose and found it. You have grown into your power and the Council would do well to see to your full training. Now go… I will see you again, Novitate Vilkas.” He turned and entered his cave.
Vilkas traveled back home. He flew with a newfound strength, arriving back with his clan. Vescartes and his father were furious, he’d left without so much as goodbye and then seemingly vanished for a full year with no trace of him being gone. He settled back into life with the Borealis Clan and when it came time for the Moot, he went with them, though his father had him under watch so he wouldn’t sneak away. It was a big shock to all who gathered when a large grey dragon landed. When he shifted Vilkas recognized him as his teacher. “Divine Dragon Dromon… It is an honor to see you here..”
“I see he is not yet among the dead.” Baladora, a matriarch of the Vulcan clan called out. “I thought he’d sleep till the world ended.”
“Hush Baladora, I have a few centuries left I would think. Now.. I would like to place a name forward for the Pilgrimage. Vilkas Excellion come here, young one.” Dromon spotted the young dragon. Vilkas swallowed and made his way through the crowd. When he got to Dromon he put a hand on his shoulder. “First I would like to apologize for taking this fine young dragon from his clan for the last decade. I have been personally training him in the old Way. I believe he could learn a lot from travelling abroad and seeing the world. If he wishes it, I will send him to the Sanctuary. I have an.. Old friend there who would be able to give him the training he needs.” And like that, it was decided, he would go off to train in the Sanctuary after exploring the civilized lands for a while. It had been a while since they they sent anyone to the Sanctuary, as it was only the Elders who’d ever gone. Vilkas learned the only one who could send people there was Dromon, but it confused Vilkas.
“I will not send you there specifically, you will find it on your own. It has a… way of doing that. I know I could find it again if I tried. I get along well with it’s Master. He is a decent person. If you feel you are in danger along your journey, simply try and find the Sanctuary. Now… You have preparations to do and the Elders are very interested in seeing how far you’ve come into your magic in the last decade.”
Magic:
Alteration/Runic Writing
Wyrd: The ancient magic only a few dragons and certain beings have been able to use. Drawing upon the power of Runes one can summon the effect directly into reality, calling fire or storm, depending on how the rune is used. Drawn runes are stronger and more draining, with blood being the strongest as it draws it's power directly from one's lifeforce.- Apprentice level
Dragons Breath: He breathes dragonfire, a type of fire that cannot be quenched by anything less than water or ice magic at it's level. Can burns as long as he tells it to. Only usuable in dragon form.- Mastery
Skills:
Advanced Combat training: Journeyman Vilkas has training in the sword, staff and the bow. From his time working under his mentor and his father he proved to be a natural with the blade, earning the nickname Bladedancer.
Multilingual: Expert Has studied several languages and dialects, can interpret many different types of runic languages.
Wilderness Survival: All dragons are trained in this, as it's a bit expected they know how to hunt and take down prey. Knowing what food is good to eat and being able to survive off the land as they have done for centuries. Vilkas showed himself a bit more on the cunning side with his trapmaking and using his superior dragon senses to track his targets.
Bardic Skills: Vilkas took this up when he was young, as he wasn't into the fighting like the others were. This made sure they still liked him as his songs were how he first found out about his magic. He can play the lute, flute, and sing. Drawing upon his magic he can set up simple harmonies using the wind.
So... I'm a writer... A gamer and an anime nerd... Uh... I love fantasy ans Sci-fi. And I have a weakness for romance. I'm also gay.... My best friend and I joke around and say that I caught the ghey. My best friend is also a trash talking dwarf. No lie. He's 4'9 has longer hair than most women and a beard. Anyways.... I ramble about stuff often... I'm pretty socially awkward but get me on a topic I like and I'll talk for days....
Peace,
Grizz the Mauler
<div style="white-space:pre-wrap;">So... I'm a writer... A gamer and an anime nerd... Uh... I love fantasy ans Sci-fi. And I have a weakness for romance. I'm also gay.... My best friend and I joke around and say that I caught the ghey. My best friend is also a trash talking dwarf. No lie. He's 4'9 has longer hair than most women and a beard. Anyways.... I ramble about stuff often... I'm pretty socially awkward but get me on a topic I like and I'll talk for days....<br><br>Peace,<br><br>Grizz the Mauler</div>
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