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Post by morcalvin on Jul 6, 2010 5:56:47 GMT -5
Hi, I hope i'm not breaking any rules here, I've read the rules and all but I'm bound to have missed something. Anyway, I'm basically setting up a bomb here, but who knows if/when it'll blow up in my face. This is a thread for sort of inbetween adventures stuff, I'm starting it in a bar, but who knows where it'll end up.
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The stranger ordered another round of beer for him and his friend. He was strange, even for a stranger. He wore a black robe with a hood, covering every part of him. But he paid double for the drinks as an apology for the hood, which he said he couldn't remove. and that was another thing. His voice seemed to echo, and if the bartender was any good at judging from voices alone, this was a man who'd seen hell and spat in its' eye. Little did he know this mysterious stranger had been royalty and had been dragged into hell, locked up for billions of years before breaking free.[glow=green,2,300] So yeah, I'm not the nicest person around, big deal. [/glow]
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Post by morcalvin on Jul 7, 2010 5:07:00 GMT -5
Ok, I'm not the most patient person on Earth, but I want to add this character anyway
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The Bartender was called down to the other end of the bar and was asked for a "ginger ale with all the bells and whistles. And extra ice" by a curious man with horns and wings. The man seemed to be made of ice. The bartender had only just moved here, having been in another town for many years, so he didn't know exactly what to make of this strange order. In the end he poured a glass of ice with a cocktail weenie, mini umbrella, lemon slice, lime slice, orange slice and every other accessory in the bar. Then he poured ginger beer on it. BIG mistake. The man made of ice took one sip, spat it out and demanded his money back on the grounds he had ordered a ginger ALE not a ginger BEER. In the end, it was explained that the stranger wanted a glass of ginger ale with redeye whisky, fruit punch and soda water mixed in. The man paid double, apologizing for spazzing out earlier, introducing himself as Icyene. The bartender asked if that was it. He was told that Icyenes' full name was Icyeneloniculoruniodyonysus Frostensteikmistscythe, but everyone called him Icy for short. As more guests shuffled in, the Bartender looked out the window for what had to be the hundredth time that night. The parking lot was filling up, but it was still easy to spot the hooded strangers ride. A motorcycle with lightning-bolt patterns on it*. What was disturbing was that the bike was floating about three inches above ground level and it had no tyres on its' wheels. And it was glowing. The bike wasn't anything ordinary, with glowing green and blue crystals imbedded in it, and huge exhaust pipes that were letting out a purple mist. Clearly this stranger was someone to watch out for. An order was barked at him for a gin and tonic, snapping him out of his thoughts. He quickly mixed up the drink and handed it to the thirsty customer. Then, he saw the hooded stranger get up (oh god he was tall!)and talk to another customer...
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* The motorcycle is Wraiths' motorcycle "Lightning Trigger", capable of speeds faster than light and able to traverse dimensions and travel through time. He also has an armoured, heavily weaponized motorcycle called "Violent Storm" which he uses when in major fights.
[glow=green,2,300]Ever heard the saying "he who rides fastest rides alone? That rules applies here. No one can keep up with the Lightning Trigger.[/glow]
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Post by Glyph on Jul 9, 2010 15:33:08 GMT -5
OOC: Is anyone free to join this?
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Post by morcalvin on Jul 10, 2010 1:55:11 GMT -5
Of course. By the way, I can use Wraith to break fourth wall, right? The Rules section was a little sketchy on that
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Post by Glyph on Jul 11, 2010 8:03:50 GMT -5
OOC: Yes, you can. ^^
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Post by Glyph on Jul 13, 2010 10:27:11 GMT -5
Kashielle didn't pretend to know everything--he wasn't the type to spew that "greater-than-thou" garbage like some spoiled rich kid with an over-entitlement complex. Being a demon didn't make him infallible; he knew that there were things still beyond his grasp, and that he was far from perfect.
But he also knew that there was no way he was going to drink whatever concoction the barkeeper had just plunked beneath his nose. It looked foul, it smelled foul, and, as a regrettable sip confirmed, tasted foul. How on Earth was he supposed to drink this when he could hardly keep his meal down at the smell?
It bubbled at him cheerfully, and Kash turned away in disgust. Still making faces, he spun on his barstool and jaunted his elbows against the counter, letting his dark hair shadow his eyes as he surveyed the rest of the bar. What he saw was typical--innumerable humans, all at varying stages of intoxication. The young man rolled his eyes in wonder. Human rational was shaky, even at the best of times. Why would they want to impair their judgment even more? And, if they insisted on falling off the wagon, why couldn't they do it with something that tasted better?
Kash's stomach clenched, and he grimaced, thankful that he hadn't downed more than a drop or two
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