sheeplon

Demons & Dragons [Dragon tribe roleplay - Arc 2]

Ezekiel

It had only been three days, but the three days had proven themselves an adventure, to say the least. His mask was gone by the end of the first day, stolen by a curious child. He didn't mind enough to get it back. The dragon was perfectly content with the skull. Ezekiel even had a few of the young dragons convinced he was a ghost. Not that he went out of his way to do so, he simply went along with their initial thoughts. Albinism was a bitch to deal with, but sometimes it served him well. aside from the occasional mischievous dragon trying to take his eye patch, he didn't run into many problems. He respected the dragons against his presence, the looks they gave and the outright warnings, staying as far away from them as he could get; otherwise, he had been quite social. Still showing the utmost devotion to his god, but he wasn't about to pass up the chance to ask questions of dragons who would ask him just as many questions about himself and his own culture. He spent most of this time with the children and the teens, preferring the younger generations and their natural curiosity. The aging ceremonies themselves were incredible to behold. Even the younger dragons had more magic than Ezekiel had seen any human use, the hunters and their blasphemous equipment included. When it came to watching, he kept his questions to his god a minimum - He didn't need much information to devise the rest for himself. The historical and cultural value of the ceremonies was beyond him, but he understood the basics. The scraps of cryptic information a dragon enjoyed giving him ("One range, total freedom" and "A decade, reborn", to name a few) were finally falling into place as he observed proceedings. In the short time he had been with the tribe, Ezekiel had also learned about his own god. Draken was often one to be cryptic, and he respected the god's right to want to remain largely neutral in human affairs. Did that neutrality break when it came to him? Sometimes, when things got out of hand, but in the end Ezekiel was still largely responsible for his own actions, mostly only receiving abstract advice or the occasional warning. There were some odd rumors about the elder. Did he really kill his own father? While a strange thing to say, he wouldn't put it past his god to kill anyone who got in his way. An event he was connected to was brought up a few times when discussing the grandfather, to which the priest would only laugh. After all, was it really his place to tell everything? He felt it better to keep some things at rumors. "Makes sense. So being a grand-grandfather can be considered more of a hassle than its worth?" He asked Draken, leaning to his god. Ezekiel was always cold, as his multiple layers of clothes proved. As he idly looked around he made it a point to avoid eye contact with the dragons he knew were against his being there. He didn't need to start anything that could be loosely called a fight. Of course, any dragon here could kill him, so maybe calling it a fight wasn't fair. There would be problems for everyone in that situation, but it still wasn't worth challenging the dragons.

Milhoro

Everyone was in such a hurry to leave. It's not like Milhoro couldn't understand why. Being trapped for so long could make one stir crazy. He even found himself losing his patience, near the end. The hunters threw a lot of bullshit at him, and it got old, fast. But that was all over now. He thought about his village, and what had become of the social order he had painstakingly perfected over the years. It all probably went to hell. The thought of it was frustrating, but he was sure nothing happened that he couldn't fix, that he couldn't restore to a proper order. If it took another century-long lesson of teaching the masses why questioning him was a bad idea, then so be it. There were screams coming in all directions, abominations running to the outside in any direction possible as he calmly glided out of his cell. It was a symphony, fit to perform to the Great Ones themselves. Milhoro had always held faith in his fellow demon, today reminded him why that was so. Most of the complex had fallen, and the parts that were still standing weren't long to stay that way. However the demon fought against his brothers and his sisters to explore what parts he could get to. The hunters had valuable information, and he wasn't going to leave before at least attempting to see what he could. The effort proved largely futile, except for the few scraps of data on other demons. They were left rather carelessly; the man in charge must have been in a hurry to get out. Figures, that humans would be so cowardly. They had names on the ones that they could manage to get the names from. Besides that, there wasn't much. It would be too easy if he could find valuable information on what would surely become his aggressors soon enough? Accepting the lack of useful info and cutting his losses there, Milhoro headed out of the underground. Bright. God, was it bright. Had the Earth always been like this? Fifteen years never felt like much to him, but apparently his body felt otherwise. Once he had adjusted to his surroundings, he noticed a few stray demons still climbing out of the ruins, confused, one could almost say scared. They were feral, of a lower class. Poor things. But Milhoro had bigger things to concern himself over than the ones who had lost their minds, and whether they had the unfortunate circumstance to be born like that, or if the hunters had driven them to it. The fire and ruins he stood in would hold significance to him - A cleansing, a new point to be rid of the vile injustice the humans had done unto him. Soon the screams from his companions and the screams of rage and hatred separated themselves. He headed towards the latter, figuring he would observe more there. It looked to be a very pretty, orate marketplace. At least, at one point it was probably that. The market square was shaping up to become like the prison in which they had just escaped. Milhoro made sure to stay clear of the demons' strife. So violent, right off the bat. Figures. In his opinion, he thought it better to save his anger and his energy on the humans that deserved it, fighting the brothers of the empire would get them nowhere. "An vitroc." (How trivial.) He couldn't say he wasn't impressed with them, though he was sure they could certainly be doing better.

Demons & Dragons [Dragon tribe roleplay - Arc 2]

I finished Milhoro.

Days of the Festival of Aging {The Dragon tribe rp}

Ezekiel watched the fireflies flood in, each seeming to have a set purpose. He had never heard of the dragon speaking to them prior, but even her voice made it clear she was in charge of things; she wasn't someone to be challenged easily. Being invited to a ceremony? To call it an honor would be an understatement. His concern lied in the church, and the management of it in the unspecified amount of time he would be gone. But it didn't seem wise to deny a gift from a dragon so powerful she could exile his lord, and the event would also definitely further the interests of his church if he did go. He looked up at Draken, noting the grin he held. Was he planning something? It was always hard to tell with the dragon, but his intentions most likely weren't pristine. Were they ever? It was hard to say. "I consider it an honor, and it would be lovely." He responded, taking up the offer. With the relatively small size of his staff he didn't need to do much, especially considering he would be with his lord in this time. It would be nice to get out for awhile, anyway. The priest watched the two girls and their reactions to the invite. Judging by how they were reacting, this wouldn't be their first time in the dragons' tribe. In particular, he looked at Myrtle. She had done exactly that before, hadn't she? Come to think of it, he realized they hadn't had a chance to talk. Maybe she had a reason for having connections. Or maybe she was just a weird kid, doing stupid things that were working out in her favor.

Demons & Dragons [Dragon tribe roleplay - Arc 2]

Name: Milhoro Age: 315 Personality: Emotion seems to be a foreign object to Milhoro, as he rarely expresses anything. He's an efficient worker, and is easily capable of doing his own work. Rather than get his own hands dirty, however, he prefers to take more of a passive role if it can be helped. He is highly judgmental, especially to other demons; he can't have the superior species going around as a joke, after all. He talks only when he finds it necessary to do so, so it can be hard to learn about him, and nearly impossible to learn everything from him alone. Even his gender isn't confirmed, and most have just taken to referring to it as he. With all of this, he does have a sense of humor - Dark, dry, and sarcastic, something many don't expect. Milhoro enjoys crucifying and/or impaling. Looks:

milhoro

Alternative looks:

human

Background: He remembers his home as being in the center of a fissure, but beyond that he can't recall. For the first one hundred years of his life he was a vagabond, wandering without much of a purpose. Eventually he began to live in a town of his own kind, a nobody in the masses. Said town was corrupt, disorganized, unstable; Milhoro hated it all. 50 years passed with what order the place had failing, and he staged a coup, taking control over the city. Over the next 100 years he broke his stoic nature, becoming a violent and feared being to solidify his reign over his home. Anyone that so much as looked at him wrong was nailed to a cross or impaled, with the bodies placed either around the city or in the front of his home. Things began to settle he he found himself with time on his hands once again, and decided to use it to look into other cities. His impatience of humans and their ignorance eventually caught up with him, as hunters managed to capture him nearby Gold City. During his time Milhoro remained more placid than most, and opted to observe everything the hunters could throw at him, along with the humans themselves. He had been held captive for 15 years, and he feels he's learned all he needs to know. Did they escape the hunters prison? Yes He corrupts the ground he walks on. The greenery dies and nothing else can grow, and it causes harm to living beings. Marks usually present themselves as burns. The ability has grown to his hands as he's matured. Along with typical holy items, Milhoro's especially weak to precious and semi-precious stones.

Demons & Dragons [Dragon tribe roleplay - Arc 2]

I think Sunday works great :> I'm also working on a demon, so that'll be up today.

Demons & Dragons [Dragon tribe roleplay - Arc 2]

I'm here o: --- Human Name: Ezekiel Verdirosi Father Verdirosi is what he's known as to most people. Age: 35 Job: Priest of the Dragon Church Looks:

picture

about 5'8", and albino. Has no right eye. quick sketch without mask:

Background & Personality: Ezekiel's passionate, and has always put his heart and soul into what he does. He considers his job the best thing a human can do with their life. He's a serious and influential man, and thanks to his method of taking small steps at a time, has practically everyone in his church on board with his plans for the hunters. Many people outside the church consider him more fit to be a cult leader than a priest. Not that he's bad at his job, as he's a good person to come to for comfort and advice. He's always busy and doesn't appreciate it when people try to beat around the bush, preferring to get a situation addressed and taken care of ASAP. He cares so little for his own life that it can be worrying, as he's prepared to throw it away in an instant if his god commands it. Instead, he places his attention on the members of the church, namely the orphans and the staff. Ezekiel had a normal childhood life in a devout family with an older brother and a younger sister, all of them home schooled about their god and dragons, and the church itself. When he became ten, his parents gave him up to the church with the understanding that he would be trained to become a priest. The training was rigorous, starting with studying, going to training, eventually going to become a caretaker for the shrines and the responsibility of making new ones. At 13 Ezekiel, along with other servants of the church, were arrested under charges that were never fully explained to him, only to be freed by Draken. He doesn't bring it up anymore, and the most he knows about the situation is that the old king pissed off his lord. When he was 21, against advice from his elders, he got in a fight against a hunter. This resulted in the loss of his right eye, though with his mask people tend to not notice it. Around that age he also had an odd, subtle relationship with a member of the congregation, but broke it off in a few months after deciding he needed to devote his entire being to his god. While making shrines isn't something he personally needs to do anymore, he still does, enjoying the process of crafting them. The church has a few orphans, and he treats them as if they're his own children. One of the orphans, Mattias, is his nephew. --- Making a demon also sounds interesting, I might do that.

Days of the Festival of Aging {The Dragon tribe rp}

"Yes, we are monotheistic. There is still a hierarchy, and all dragons are above us, but we only revere my Lord. You've seen what happens when someone else tries to interfere with that." Ezekiel explained, watching Mohon as she moved through the room. If nothing else, her homeland had interesting technology. He heard the dragons coming into his church, ans simply counted how many there were by what he heard. The priest only looked once he heard the commotion of the hole being repaired. This was going better than he had expected, and while he knew a couple of the dragons were going to have to deal with Draken, it wasn't anything he couldn't deal with. As he watched the scene between his god and the redhead unfold, he figured Chu got off easy. "How interesting, to have a dragon raised in a church." He couldn't imagine being the head of that temple, to have that kind of responsibility. Just having everything he was already in charge of took exact time management. He watched as Siabel approached Momo. His mask covered any trace of a grin, but his voice showed it. "Good luck." He stood up, taking Siabel's advice getting a sister to help the dragon. Ezekiel was a lot of things, but a doctor was not one of them. "It was wonderful, thank you. Welcome back." Though he was being facetious, it really was one of the few breaks he had in a long time. The albino barely had a chance to respond to Myrtle, before Draken started a scene. He sat back down, red eyes focusing on the two dragons. The last place they needed a mess was in the study.

Days of the Festival of Aging {The Dragon tribe rp}

I'll have a post up soon.

Days of the Festival of Aging {The Dragon tribe rp}

Thanks man :> Most of my finals have to do with graphic design, so it isn't too bad. That post was written in an effort to procrastinate on an essay, though.

Days of the Festival of Aging {The Dragon tribe rp}

Listening to Momo talk, he respected her choice of words. It wasn't everyday he talked with someone as careful with what she said as she was; it made his own life easier, not having to stop her in case she might offend his god. Of course, there was the chance she was only being careful out of fear, as many others have done. Ezekiel could understand why many were afraid of Draken. He understood, but was never fully able to comprehend it. He had never been afraid of the grandfather. Wary, yes, when mistakes had been made and he had to answer for them, but never afraid. Even as a child he had felt wonder and curiosity, what should have been an instinctual fear absent. It was interesting to listen to her talk about her own legends. Dragons could be church-born? The more she explained, the more he wondered how people lumped all dragon churches together. They all had different gods and systems, and simply because they worshiped the very broad category of dragons wasn't a cause to put them together. She talked about learning his own systems, and the priest liked the idea of exchanging information. He would have to make time for it. As busy as he already was, the events that were unfolding only suggested more work in the future, and the guild becoming even more bothersome. He listened as Draken spoke, glad to have his conflict of interests sorted out. Even if it was only for a moment, the time he was given was as free as it got. "Yes, my Lord." Hearing the wood planks of the floor break apart, Ezekiel jumped, immediately spinning around to face whatever was going on. So she was back. It was much better than an alternative of conflict. Relaxing again, he sighed, giving a nod. Things would only escalate from here, and he guessed that by the end of the day his nerves would be dead. He turned his attention back to his guest, laughing softy, at himself more than anything, leading her into the study. "Make yourself comfortable. Depending on how this unfolds, you may be here awhile. Most of the books fall into philosophy and religion, of course, and their organization is straightforward." He offhandedly remarked, taking a seat in a chair. "An incredibly long time ago, my Lord used to burn villages and eat humans, and the general things many people usually associate with dragons. It lasted at least a century. Eventually my church made a deal with him, and we would serve as his disciples in exchange for peace. It's a very nice relationship," He mused, "Is there anything specific you would like to know?"