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Post by Faethor on Oct 15, 2008 21:40:55 GMT -4
Faethor looks into the distance... He thinks of the Emperors might and says to himself "Today... The Emperor guided my blade and smited these heretics... But, i must not forget my duty to find my brothers and regain my armour."
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Post by Rag Doll Zombie on Oct 15, 2008 21:45:06 GMT -4
Morgan points to the guy stuttering "Shhiinn--eyy". She circles around him taking big foot steps with back arched to resemble Quazie Moto. And takes a step close to the guy looking at him with her big blue eyes then finally...pokes his nose.(The guy is Fae)
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Post by Faethor on Oct 15, 2008 21:51:28 GMT -4
Faethor gets his nose poked and steps back, falling over
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Post by Rag Doll Zombie on Oct 15, 2008 21:54:50 GMT -4
Morgan screeches into a loud giggle and gets on the ground laying in a star shape. Morgan shouts into the air"I AM NOT A WITCH I WILL NOT MAKE YOU A NEWT. NO ARTHUR DONT PLANT THOSE BEANS"
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Post by Faethor on Oct 15, 2008 21:57:33 GMT -4
Faethor scratches his head, wondering "Chaos must of turned her... I must make note of this, for when i get my stuff back."
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Post by Rag Doll Zombie on Oct 15, 2008 21:58:20 GMT -4
Morgan twitches on the ground, her eyes rolling back.
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Post by Faethor on Oct 15, 2008 21:59:32 GMT -4
Faethor asks Morgan, "Uhm, are you alright?"
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Post by Rag Doll Zombie on Oct 16, 2008 12:45:23 GMT -4
Morgan doesn't answer andcontinues to twitch
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Post by paladin on Oct 16, 2008 14:49:09 GMT -4
Seb frowns as he sees Fae fall, wondering what could of made him fall. He walks over and frowns at a young woman's, twitching body...
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Post by Faethor on Oct 17, 2008 11:41:24 GMT -4
Faethor walks away, offended by the lack of response
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Post by paladin on Oct 17, 2008 11:48:47 GMT -4
Seb looks at Fae as he walks away and looks back down at Morgan's bid. He picks her up and takes her to the infirmary.
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Post by Faethor on Oct 19, 2008 0:14:21 GMT -4
Faethor walks to the Inn and drinks some ale
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Post by paladin on Oct 19, 2008 10:48:40 GMT -4
Seb hands Morgans body to the orderlies at the Infirmary and walks back to the barracks. He rests on his bunk, thinking, reliving the screams as men died.
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Post by deathrow on Oct 20, 2008 5:40:02 GMT -4
Name:Raz Winterchill Age:22 Sex:Male Skills:Using biggest sword ever made called Zanbatou (horse-slaying sword) Weapons: Zanbatou Armour: Black Platemail legs and an ragged black robe Accessories: few black rings on fingers History: Grew up in an war torn country and from birth got raised in battle to be ruthless and deadly. When aged enough got a special training in handling the Zanbatou blade which he then would carry for the rest of his life or when the death lets him rest.
Slowly walking the city streets with his giant sword (wrapped in cloths to not raise fear too much) on his back trying to look for signs of life and an tavern where to find food
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Post by paladin on Oct 20, 2008 14:33:28 GMT -4
Seb wakes the next day and smiles at it is the day of the hand-to-hand combat championship. He dresses, washes and sharpens his weapons. Seb walks to the enterance gate and is asked for his seal of nobility. Seb frowns. "I thought this was a free-for-all?" The guard shakes his head. "Sorry boyo. Nobles only." Seb frowns. "What if I said that I was the last desentant of Dragonchest family?" The guards looked at each other, then started laughing. "Boyo! That's a brillant joke! Now, run along and join you friends in the street! Little runt!" The guards carries on laughing. Seb frowned angrily. "The Dragonchest family have ALWAYS been accepted by tornuments. Why has it stopped now?" The guards beared on him. "We told you to scram, boyo. Now scarm, before we beat you." Seb stood firm, hand resting on his hilt. "Remember the battle outside the front gate? See the Red Dragon? That was me. And I have proof." Seb unbuckles his studded leather cuiras and shows them his chest. A large tattoo of a dragon etched into his skin, glistening slightly in the sunlight. The guards stepped back slightly in shock and wonderment. "S-s-sorry M'Lord! Please continue through." Seb smiled and buckled his cuiras back on and walked into the arena. He took his place in the line of contests.
The crowd started laughing at the sight of a commoner-looking contestent battling the greatest warriors in the Land. Seb smiled to himself at the laughter and thought "I'll have the last laugh" The warriors laughed at him too. Guaffing and laughing at their knees at Seb's presence. One of the warriors recovered from his laughter and slapped Seb around the face. "How DARE a commoner even THINK that he can beat the finest warriors in the land of the beautiful and powerful Countess Avalon?!" Seb got up slowly and worked his jaw. "Almost broke it then." The warrior fumed and Seb looked at him. "Becareful, Sir, you might break someone's jaw doing that." The warrior's face went red and raised his hand for another backhand. The hand came down with the force of a swordblow. Seb ducked, rolled and stood behind the warrior. "Missed me!" He chimed, full of mirth. The warrior drew his sword. "Let's finish this!" Seb sighed and closed his eyes, summoning the small power he has. Wings form on his back and a tail runs down to the ground. Seb smiles and opens his eyes. His pupils are slitted, making them more draconic. The warrior faulters in his charge and watched in awe and fear. Sang-drax smiled. "NOW do you wish to fight me? I am Sang-drax, the dragon form and guide of Sebastain Dragonchest. Fighting him is fighting me. It may seem a little unfair. But I SWEAR on MY HONOUR of a Dragon that Seb will fight without my help! CAN YOU ACCPET THAT, SIR?!"
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