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    1. Maki Casanova 10 yrs ago

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Ryden Zenta
100 Gold






Ryden slowly got up as he felt his bones piece themselves back together. Although it wasn't a particularly pleasant process, he buckled down and bore the excruciating healing process. His ribs snapped and jammed themselves together, and smoothed out the cracks by spreading itself out and filling in the cavities. He took a deep breath and steadied himself as he rose to his feet, testing out his capabilities and the fluidity of his movements. He twisted his body left and right, feeling his bones ease up on the tension with a satisfying crack. He stepped out of the church and scanned his surroundings: carnage mercilessly scattered around, blood and guts lathered generously on the ground, while families of the departed wept on the side. The boy remembered his own father, Virgil, a strict and sullen piece of work with his own emotional baggage to carry. He wondered, Does he worry about me as well? Does he wonder where I am right now? Is he even searching for me? His heart slightly sank at these thoughts, before anger overtook his chest. He probably is glad that I am gone, that old fool.. He never really cared about how I felt or what I thought. All he ever worried himself about was how I affected his reputation. God, this isn't the time nor place... He scolded himself for bringing such emotional intensity upon himself, which made his eyes water with tears of sorrow and rage. He swallowed the rising lump in his throat, wiped his eyes with the back of his hands, and forced himself to trod forward with a depressed mood, being careful not to ruin his boots with the stain and stench of blood.

His ears picked up an eerie, ancient chanting, which beckoned from an empty space in the plaza. He looked around the area, taking notice of the golem man and the elf man who saved him earlier. He walked up to them, slightly awkward and deeply in need of company, and nodded shyly towards them. "I don't mean to interrupt, but the smithy is the least of our worries right now.." Ryden pointed to the source of the chanting, his eyes reflecting a set seriousness and slight worry, "I don't know what that is or what it wants, but if we don't attend to that now, we might be in for a much more terrible being than the Sacrificial Spirit."
12 years old? I would not say that's a plausible age for this type of role play.
Wow, that joke totally flew over my head.
Dragon Fodder?? What is THAT? :o
Bump
Well, I believe my character is also open to interaction, so if you want to use him to help propel your character into the story, by all means, go ahead.


Ryden Zenta
100 Gold






"Yes, I'm an Elf, and you are a Saber, what is wrong with this?" The elf man said with visible indignation, to which Ryden responded with a childish snort and a momentary glance away from him. When he told him to stay put because of his broken ribs, he growled in response to being commanded like a mere, helpless dog. I am not a house pet for you to coddle! He thought with a burst of insolence, and forced himself to get on all fours and crawl towards the entrance to where the action is. He paused momentarily as he noticed Aragon's concerned yet stern glare, and for a brief moment, he felt himself freeze up at the slight twinge of intimidation. However, after the older figure refocused himself onto the rampaging Sacrificial Spirit outside, the young Saber pulled himself, slowly but surely, towards the door. The mere action of being tenacious and refusing to become useless sent jolts of seering pain towards his broken side, but the healing Serene Winds of Aragon helped to alleviate that agony, even just by a little bit. He snaked closer and closer to the grand arches of the church's mohagany doors, and saw, to his relief, that the enemy seemed to be on its last steps. However, that did not remove the fact that it was a large threat, and Ryden knew not to take its desperate moments lightly: they say that a cornered mouse is more dangerous than an idle cat.

He saw his enemy take a heavy swing at the remaining group of individuals that lingered outside to fight him head on. He saw the creature take down two people a notch swiftly and brutally; whether they were alive or not was something to investigate later on after the carnage. Using his stealth to his advantage, he propped himself up on one arm, and charged a fireball on his right hand. If this spell could help take down the monster that threatened his and everyone else's lives, he would be satisfied; he didn't even feel the need to perform the finishing blow either. He sent the spell flying towards the monster (MP: 190/300), hoping that it would connect. However, with the rapid drain on his mana, Ryden felt even more light-headed than before, and he was starting to be short of breath with all the magic he was flinging around. If the Spirit decided to take a gander at him, he could be as good as dead.
Are the rest of you who signed up gonna post or what? Lol.
bump
I'll post soon. Just having trouble thinking what to do considering.. Aragon told Ryden not to move. :P And his rib is broken too.
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