Avatar of sheeplon
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    1. sheeplon 11 yrs ago

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Interested.
Interested.
Both plots sounds really great, I'd love to join this.
I think I'd like to take the pickpocket. Not sure about species yet, though.
This looks super neat, I'm interested.
The priest laughed softly at the dragon's questions. Damia seemed like a genuinely nice dragon, only a bit scatterbrained. She reminded him of his own child, Florence, and he was proud of the girl for that. Before he had a chance to answer, the dragon had moved on to the subject of the city.

When asked of his opinion, Ezekiel turned his attention to Damia, looking her over. From what he saw she didn't have much offensive magic, but it could be used on the defensive well enough. He sympathized with her curiosity of the outside world, too, after having that feeling for a long time in his training.

The albino's attention snapped back to Draken at the mention of demons. Is that why the elders seemed so uneasy? God. This was the Guild's fault, wasn't it? Everything was their fault. why else would demons be running around the town? They probably had them cooped up and doing god knows what to them. Bastards. Ezekiel thought, careful to stop his tongue. "I'm ready to leave if you are, my lord." His voice was almost bitter, vitriolic towards the hunters and anything they could possibly do.

Realizing his tone, he took a moment to compose his thoughts before speaking again. "But I think it would be ultimately good for Damia to come, so long as she's not reckless."
Name: Tomas Ramirez Age: 28 Gender: Male Personality/Interests: Tomas has a dry sense of humor, and tends to be sarcastic. He's not the best at talking to people and likes to let his actions speak for him. He's more comfortable being around people than being alone. He's not hard to get along with and gives an aloof and down to earth appearance, but has a quick temper. He also has a bad habit of remaining loyal to anyone he's with, even if they end up manipulating him. However, he's not naive, instead almost desperate for company. He likes steam technology, cults, and old movie posters. Appearance: General: Can appear intimidating, sharp eyes, and a crooked smile. Build: Thick-set, basically has the body type of a brick. Hair/Hair color: Shaved, brown. Skin color: Hispanic Eye color: Brown Height/Weight: 5'10", 155 lbs. Other/Notable Features: He has some burn scars on his hands from improper use of tools, but nothing too serious. Equipment: Weapons: Sledgehammer and a straight razor. Supplies: Water, various canned foods, a stimpack, and a weapon repair kit. Talents/Abilities: He's great in a fight, pretty durable (Doesn't use guns, though, since he's pretty bad with them). Also good at repairing things and picking locks.
I'm interested o: I'll get a CS to you sometime today, hopefully.
Ezekiel
Ezekiel needed to take a moment to think about his lord's words as the young dragon rambled on about him. One of Draken's favorite things had to be giving cryptic advice. But thirty years of taking such advice had taught him how to break it apart and understand it, and more often than not it was well worth the time to do so. He wouldn't waste his time saying worthless things. At least something said was straightforward, and confirmed what Ezekiel had already thought. Showing he understood, he gave a nod. The priest found it hard to hide his amusement at the question. He had been asked similar questions before, from children curious at why his hair was so white, his skin so pale and why he never went outside too much. He glanced down at his hand, almost forgetting how pale he was. Looking at the right head, he shook his head. "No, no. Medically speaking, it's a disorder. Most humans are more...colorful than me." The fact that he wore almost all black only reaffirmed the comment. "But thank you." He added on, addressing the left head. He was well beyond the time of taking offense at such comments. There was a time when he was insecure about it, that it made him stand out and that was the last thing he wanted. He could even count a fight over a peer heckling it for him. But in due time he had learned to accept it, even embrace it; it made him a treasure of his Lord, after all.
Milhoro
Even with his capabilities of processing situations, the next moment became a blur for the demon. Suddenly the demon he addressed was taking off, and there was a sharp pain in his back. Groups from the roofs were firing arrows, but they couldn't be normal, could they? He pulled the arrow from the wound, only getting a glance before more pressing matters took his attention. Through the shot corroded to nothing in his hands, Milhoro still wasn't pleased with this situation. If they had the resources to make so many arrows out of such rare materials, they certainly had more manpower than this siege let on. Suddenly, it clicked. They were the same people who captured him over a decade ago, holding him in a miserable cage. Who else would be able to organize against them so efficiently? The demon felt a surge of loathing, powerful enough to contend with his ego. The arrows that he hadn't managed to dodge only made it harder to push animalistic intentions down. He knew that he would get his revenge one day, and things would turn out in his favor; when did they not? But there was an opportunity to do something here, and against his better judgement he couldn't resist the temptation. The corruption he had already spread was already working its way around the concrete. The firing made it next to impossible to see what arrows were coming from what buildings, but he took his chances to press against a building and focus on only that. It exhausted him, but his ability threatened to consume the infrastructure.
Thanks man :"o
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