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    1. robomonk 11 yrs ago

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I'm a cat person when a cat wants me to be, and a dog person when a dog wants me to be. I just care if the animal wants me to like it.
After exhausting his voice and exhausting himself, it was all Razz could do to try and ignore the pain while he waited for someone to ask who the hell he was, what the hell he was doing, or any of those other things that humans loved to ask. Surprisingly, however, he didn't actually end up hearing anything for multiple seconds. He was greeted by movement that he could hear, but none that he felt. He was... being ignored? What kind of an army ignores ten gold? These humans are just too weird.

This was getting to be an issue. He was likely dead if he was ignored. He decided that against his burning desire to not move a single inch, it would definitely be a good idea to open his eyes, just so he had a chance to understand what the hell was going on with this place. Breathing deeply, he decided that yes, he was doing it. He was definitely going to open his eyes in just a second. Maybe a few seconds. Or maybe after he had a short nap....

As it ended up, however, he didn't need to concern himself with opening his eyes, as the cold steel of... something... pushed down on his neck, shocking his eyes into an open state. Well, finally! What he saw, however, wasn't entirely what he was expecting. Instead of one of the guys in their casual clothing and rags that he was expecting, this was a full-grown woman in full plate. Well, shit. This wasn't good. A squire, he could convince with money. A soldier, he could convince by looking helpless. This girl looked plain crazy. This was gonna be a problem.

“And who might you be?” He heard, or at least though he heard, his ears were still ringing. Okay Razzy, time for some tact. Polite and submissive. Polite and submissive. Summoning up all of the air he could manage to get into his lungs, he croaked out a quiet response. "Razzalorn Timmindale, your mightiness, at your service. Don't worry yourself, I don't intend to cause any harm, I simply happen to have found myself in a teensy spot of bother and was wondering if there were any powerful knights such as yourself who could be... kind enough to escort me to a little old bar in the outer circle where I can heal myself up. We ARE near Earroldir, yes?"
TheSovereignGrave said That was probably one of the stupidest things Ashborn had ever seen anyone do


Glad to see I'm correctly portraying my character.
*finds your character sheet to see what that would entail*

As long as it won't cause either temporary or permanent death, and it doesn't have any other permanent complications, then you can go to town. (Literally, if you're going to follow him, hehehe.)

This is assuming you leave enough blood to allow him to survive what he's already gone through reasonably well. But apart from that, be my bloody guest.
Same. I love it when one of my characters manages to get massive amounts of scarring in one of my posts that I didn't originally intend. Makes for some great scars later on in the story.
Light. Again. Damnit.

Under a towering oak in the middle of the forest, there stirred some warped, twisted form of a creature, with grotesque, misshapen shoulders exposed by rips in a black garb, poorly proportioned legs shielded by dull grey trousers, just baggy enough to mask his disgusting figure. Groaning, he rolled onto his back, exposing the bloody mess that was his chest. Luckily, the blow was shallow. Hey, he made it half the night without it being treated, that had to be a good thing, right? The whole 'passing out in the forest' thing didn't seem like the best way to get it healing, but miraculously, the wound looked fairly clean. With any luck, it shouldn't go bad.

Razz had been out hooman huntin' on the highway. It was going pretty well, too, he managed to strip a couple of suits of armour and some swords off of some pompous, tee-totaled scouts from a nearby army or something and stuff them in his cache, but then the idiots ran crying back to their camp all in the nude and whined about it. He must've run halfway round the forest trying to get away from the bastards. Gave them the slip, obviously, but remembering anything other than that is... well, impossible. Snatching a tissue out of his pocket, he tried to mop up and clear off some of the blood covering his shirt and chest. This was going to leave a scar. A nice one, too, from the shoulder, down right across his nipple. If he lived through it, that is.

Okay, time to take stock. Take inventory. was I hunting EAST of the village, or WEST? No way of knowing now. I guess I'll see what's at the end of this forest then, if nothing else. Grunting, grimacing and doing pretty much everything else one can do when you're in pain and want to know everyone else know just how annoyed you are, he pushed himself up onto his elbows, his shoulders, and finally his feet. Staggering towards a tree, he tried to balance himself while he got used to his sudden new position. After a good few seconds, he began to walk. It was only then when he noticed that his feet were torn to shreds, and his boots were in tatters. Under the excruciating pain, he abruptly sunk to his knees, resuming his grunting and clawing his way towards the area that seemed to have the least trees.

This carried of for what felt like hours, the slow, agonizing slog through the trees. He was so exhausted that he didn't notice when the trees finally stopped and he stood atop an outcrop. He didn't even stop when he reached the drop, and after that it was a little too late.

Chaos struck. Every one of his limbs was being thumped, hard and repeatedly by the rocky ground as his momentum propelled him downwards, ever downwards into god knows where. The momentum stretched his body out flat, and every attempt he made to cover his face just resulted in rocks clashing against his hands. Then, with a loud and tortuous 'thud', is stopped. He exhaled slowly, rolling over once more to find.... another bloody army.

This is REALLY not my day. At least this doesn't look to be the army that attacked me before..... Craning his neck to survey the situation, he realized that he was in the back end of the forces, with all the squires, or whatever those human bastards called them. This army, here, probably meant he was near Earroldir. Good, I could use a stiff drink. And some of my spare supplies. Dropping his head to the ground, he summed up all his strength and shouted at the top of what remained of his voice: "TEN GOLD PIECES FOR WHOEVER BRINGS ME TO THE PILGRIM IN THE OUTER CIRCLE! I'm a friend of the barkeep's, he'll do right by you." And with that, all there was to do was sigh, and wait.
TheSovereignGrave said
Ah, so 'lazy bum' is just a redundant statement. :D


Unless you happen to be discussing a particularly inactive posterior.
Adding a small bit to my character about him taking his elder brother's son as an apprentice, hope it's okay. Just want to make sure he has no reason not to get himself killed.
*stares expectantly*
I'm pretty sure just about everyone else has...
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