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Post by deathrow on Oct 20, 2008 16:17:04 GMT -4
As Raz heard there were trouble at the contest he had to see who is behind all this chaos. So he went to see how a man unknown to him transformed to something out of this world and made all of the competitors tremble in fear. Still he stood completely still watching without a fear of what might happen. The question in his mind is burning like hell fire, "who is this man with such tremendous power, I need to speak him and see what he really is"
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Post by paladin on Oct 21, 2008 10:45:22 GMT -4
Sang-drax smiles at the competitors. "Shall we fight? Isn't that what we came here to do, isn't it?" With this words, Sang-drax's form slowly fades away, leaving Seb to collapse on the floor on his hands and knees, gasping for breath. Seb looks up, seeing his vision fade and falls slowly to the floor.
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Post by deathrow on Oct 21, 2008 14:52:18 GMT -4
After the incidence Raz took off to the wilderness to practice more, now and then visiting the city for food and other equipments. Killing bandits and other too nosy and dareing to enter his camp.
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Post by Faethor on Oct 22, 2008 9:00:04 GMT -4
As Faethor walks towards the deserted forest. He notices a shadow in the background, he chases it and sees that it's a deer. So he waits a few days before setting traps and stringing his bow and practicing his aim.
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Post by paladin on Oct 23, 2008 10:49:36 GMT -4
Seb wakes from a fever sleep, making out a blurred face...
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Post by Faethor on Oct 24, 2008 4:05:05 GMT -4
As Faethor comes back with a deer on his shoulder. He sees a gem on on the floor!
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Post by paladin on Oct 24, 2008 15:34:44 GMT -4
Seb recovers and is sitting up in the Infirmary. A nurse sees to him and nods to him as she works. Seb inclines his head back.
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Post by salavandra on Oct 27, 2008 7:49:21 GMT -4
Name: Salavandra
Age: 16
Sex: (yes please) Male
Skills: Okay with a blade, he trains as often as possible. Dormant Necromantic powers, he doesnt quite know how to control this somewhatc natural talent yet, though he practices. His Hand to Hand skills are incredibly developed for his age
Weapons: A Worn out Bastard sword, heavily used by its previous owner, sharpened in the traditional way of smashing it against rocks until it has a serrated edge. A bone-wand used to channel his necromantic powers His hands, he's a seasoned brawler
Armour: Studded Leather over coat, Tough leather work boots, Travveling cloak
Accessories: Tattoo of his old clan symbol on his shoulder blade, and left hand. Rebellion tatooed on his upper left bicep
History: Salavandra used to march under the banner of a clan sometimes described as Barbaric. They weren't barbaric, just fearless. Renound for its less than sane members, the clan known as "Forever Heretics" bow to no-one and follow no power but the clan. More brawlers than actual warriors, the weapon they use most is the Bastard sword, due to is cruelty when properly sharpened (bashed against rocks until it splinters) Initiates to the clan are taken at an early age, from whatever lawless land they are found in, Salavandra is one such youth, taken at the young age of 11 he soon learned to love his newly found violent way of life, killing his first man only a month after he was taken by jamming a broken bottle into his gut. Salavandra was given his best friends Bastard sword when he left the safety of the numbers of his clan to set out into the world, promising to his comrades he would call them when he thought the time was right to lead a raid on the area he was staying in. In the meantime he was out to have some "fun" with the corrupt system he found himself in.
The Clan symbol is a skull with a dagger shoved into the space between its eyes, wearing a crown
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Post by salavandra on Oct 27, 2008 8:20:27 GMT -4
Salavandra wanders around the inn necking ale, a scowl permenantly embedded on his face he watches a brutal blood sport take place, two grown men fighting to the death. He laughs as one picks up a bottle and jams it into the nose of his opponent, destroying the cartilage completely, and rendering him squirming on the ground in a pool of his own blood. Salavandra smiles, drinking his ale "haha Oh please..." An off duty royal guard grabs him by the hair "Thats my fighter you're laughing at boy! you think you can do better !?" Salavandra holds back his rage, but pulls his head away, yanking out a small tuft of hair "I dont think, you ape! I know!" The guard snarls and pushes him into the makeshift ring (tables and chairs formed in a ring style shape) and then gestures something towards the bookie who yells out "Get Olaf in here!" A hulking man, standing at about 6'7 enters the bar wearing royal colours and looks at Salavandra "You want to fight me nipper!? Youre mad... suicidal!" Salavandra lets out his anger and malice in a crazy looking grin and nods. Shrugging, Olaf enters the ring and instantly bashes Savandra in the nose, sending blood spraying over the floor, Sal snarls and looks up at the laughing Olaf, hatred burning in his eyes. "You okay litle one!?" he jeers, preparing to land another hit, but before he can, Sal sends a large boot into his balls, causing Olaf to squeal and keel over, but before he can recover Sal sends a powerful headbutt into his nose , causing him to grunt, then finally Salavandra grabs the mans head and bites his ear hard, then proceeds to tear it off laughing maniacally. Pushing him to the floor he looks around the stunned faces of the inn. "So, do I win!? hahahaha"
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Post by paladin on Oct 27, 2008 8:21:07 GMT -4
Seb leaves the Infirmary and goes back to the Barracks. He trains with the rest of the new recurits
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Vampires
New Member
I used to be love struck, now I'm just f**ked up.
Posts: 49
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Post by Vampires on Apr 9, 2009 22:25:15 GMT -4
Name: Julian Age: 15 Sex: M Skills: Sparring Amateur Weapons: Bronze Dagger Armour: Bronze Shield Accessories: Chains on the ankles and wrists History: A lonley peasant who exscaped the wrath of the evil king, he is hunted down by the kings army. He goes to Sherwood Forest to find Robin Hood and his band of Yeomen.
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Vampires
New Member
I used to be love struck, now I'm just f**ked up.
Posts: 49
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Post by Vampires on Apr 10, 2009 0:01:25 GMT -4
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Swarm
New Member
"Glory to the Powerful! Power to the Swarm!"
Posts: 40
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Post by Swarm on Nov 14, 2009 1:23:19 GMT -4
Name: John Thorne Age: 14 Sex: Male Description: He is a young, gangly boy who looks out of place in full plate mail, but is exceptionally pretty for his poor upbringing. His voice is softer than a paladin's should be, and his mind is not as closed as they would like it to be. His soft brown hair is short but messy, his eyes are as bright and blue as the sky they look towards. He is unscarred, except for the sign of a paladin that is burned into the palms of all those called by the Goddess of Light. Skills: He is an accomplished swordsman, using his Greatsword to cleave through the enemies of the Church of Light with zeal. He has very rudimentary nonmagical healing skills, not enough to get by. He's not yet ready to go out into the world, say his superiors. Weapons: A masterwork greatsword (8lbs.) Armour: White Full Plate (50lbs.) Accessories: He has a branding (burn scar) of a sun on the palm of each of his hands. History: John Thorne is a paladin in training, in the simplest terms. He was called by the Goddess of Light herself (as she calls all paladins to her cause) to join in their ranks only one year ago, but is quickly learning the trade. His family is dead, slain by the dark monsters that roam the countryside. He has no noble blood.
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John stands at the wall of the Monastery of the Church of Light, watching the people walk towards the arena. Loud noises and cheers abound come from that place, but he can not go. He isn't even allowed up here, on the walls... much less down there with the unfaithful. He sighs, wishing for freedom for a moment. Then, his scars start hurting like they always do when his mind falters from the path. He swallows the saliva in his mouth, turns back to the inner monastery, and hops down from the wall. No sooner than he does, one of the faceless guards calls out for him to stop. He does, knowing that he faces a punishment for breaking the rules again. He can't help it that he doesn't want to be cooped up in here... He can't help it if he doesn't think he can best follow the path behind these tall walls! But then, his scars flare up again. He rubs his hands against his hips to calm them down, but the thick cloth pants only make them itch as well as burn. He sighs, going to the Abbot's room with the guard hot on his heels. There goes another day of sunlight...
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