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Member No.: 9,110
Joined: 19-June 08
Invite: Open Character Sheet: Posted Setting: American South West Time: Future Fandom: Allowed but dont go Crazy with it House Rules: Have Fun Description: Life on earth has changed! About three hundred years ago it happened, magic returned. With this return nature attempted to balance it's self as it always does and in the insueing adjustment life as we know it stopped and a new life began. World powers crumbled and "civilized" society flatlined. Mountains fell and Islands rose. Doors to other worlds opened and creatures from countless alien worlds poured out. Mankind persevered. Now we live in a world where meeting an alien from some other world is as common as running into a tourist from out of state. Magic and technology are now the way of the world. Some surviving cities are shineing stars of order and technology. Meanwhile 50 miles away a village is living life similar to the european dark ages. This is the way of life. Here in the American south west life is very similar to an old Eastwood Movie......As long as Clint rode a cyborg horse! ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Erz walked through the swinging double doors into the saloon his road worn leather duster disturbing the saw dust on the old wooden floor. He siped from an ornate silver flask. Very few people looked up as Erz walked in, they were mostly concerned with what was going on at that moment in there personal universe. The few that did look up after a brief moment looked away. The hilt of a sword could be seen over his left shoulder. Anyone in the room that could sense magic saw that the gold wire in the handle was laid out in ancient glyphs of power. A strong and ancient aura radiated from the weapon. Those that could see this power knew right away that this man was not one to be trifled with. He made his way to an empty spot at the bar and sat.
((I probably won't be posting in this in the next few days, but here goes. Silva post.))
A creaking noise pestered the man as he finished taking a bite from the loaf of bread awkwardly placed in front of him. Someone else had entered the saloon; at least he had the manners to keep quiet upon entering. Not bothering to follow suit and look up at the source of the sound, he continued his lunch by pouring more tea from the kettle provided into his shot glass--out in this area, no one really cared for the art of tea drinking. But as he lifted the kettle from its dusty resting place, only a sliver of green liquid dripped out from the beak. Sighing, the man knew that this meal had not satisfied his appetite and that he had to stay even longer at this filthy place.
Motioning over to the bartender for a refill, he could not help but look over to the newcomer, a much more muscular and taller man than himself. It was not the aggressive or heroic look, as one could say, that attracted Silva to the man, but the sword that he carried on his back. "Ah... What a beautiful weapon," he thought to himself, knowing fully well that it was custom made and nothing of the sort that regulars would carry around in this part of the world. Once a waiter-type person walked around the room to clean each table over--it was easier now, for all it took was the touch of a button--Silva lifted his kettle to be taken over to the bar. Upon doing so, he caught a glimpse of something peculiar on the dusty steel, as the sunlight hit its side: a reflection of himself. His dark blue eyes suddenly seemed to lack their usual luster while his messy gray hair had lost all its trace of energy and innocence. How long had it been, he wondered, since the world had changed? A long time, was the only answer that he could muster, and he shifted his glance over to the newcomer's sword after the waiter took the kettle from Silva's hands.
Would he play the role of thief today, or murderer?
This post has been edited by Devking on Jun 23 2008, 03:28 PM
Group: Members
Posts: 5
Member No.: 9,110
Joined: 19-June 08
“What will it be?’ asked the bar keep “A Stout.” The Orc behind the bar was a female Erz noted that she was dressed in a low cut blue shirt. Her shoulders and arms were adorned with the traditional tribal tattoos of the northern raiding clans. Her midnight black hair was worn tied on top and she had a large set of fangs protruding from her bottom lip. She poured him a glass of the house stout and slid it in front of Erz. She must be an outcast. She is young and vibrant; her fellow Orcs should see her as excellent breeding stock. Something must have happened for her to have ended up tending bar here . He mused. “Thanks” Taking a sip and turning his back to lean against the bar Erz scanned the room. The usual jumble of dregs. Taking another sip and letting the drink wash the dust from his throat. It was a smooth woody brew that he was enjoying it thoroughly. So much so in fact that he drained the glass and nodded for another. What the hell it’s been a long week. Receiving his refill he continued looking around the room, the grey haired youngster briefly caught his eye but youths in places like this were just the way of the world today.
((This will probably be my last post in this until later in July. Short post to get things moving.))
Silva quickly turned around when he felt that he had been spotted by the male, almost as if it were an instinct to do so. He had lived out in the wilderness for such a long time that actions like eye contact would mean death in themselves, but remembering that he still had on the figure of a young child, Silva shrugged and resumed his glance at the sword. Surely this would not be an easy task, taking the artifact from such an experienced-looking warrior, but all that he could hope for lay exactly in the cliche, "Never judge a book by its cover." Hah, he thought, this might actually get interesting.
Standing up, the Vaizard cleaned his table of all traces of his eating and picked up the broadsword that was placed against the side of the piece of furniture. Silva worked his way across the crowded room full of mixed beings, quiet and loud, big and small, until he arrived at the bar, where he quietly took a seat beside the man.
"I haven't seen you around here before," Silva said, "mind telling me your name?"
Group: Members
Posts: 5
Member No.: 9,110
Joined: 19-June 08
Looking at the youth “Erzengel, and you are?” Erz looked the kid over but could not sense anything more then a young man with a broadsword. The youth looked rather comical with the weapon. However the way his young body comfortable embraced the blade was enough to perk his cautious side. Many years of bitter disappointments had lead him to ire on the side of caution when it came to strangers.
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In Nomine Patris, et Filli, Spiritus Sancti
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