``and she's not breathing b a c k | [Rakesh]

[RAKESH]

RAKESH

Age:

563 years

Gender:

Male

Orientation:

Straight

Race:

Vulture Demon

Occupation:

Mercenary, with some hopes of becoming a general of sorts for one of the Demon Lords

Looks Aren't Everything

Birthmark(s):

Swirling, vaguely glyph-like markings along the outsides of his arms and legs, a thin ring of similar markings around his neck, and two slashes of the same color which mark his right cheek, falling at an angle from his eye. These slate blue markings remain visible in both his human and demon forms, but are slightly darker in his demon form.

Scar(s):

In his human form, Rakesh has two very large, fairly grotesque scars which stretch down his back from his shoulder blades to the small of his back, and which leave only thin strips of untouched flesh on his back to the sides and between the two marks. In his full demon form, this scar equates to a far more noticeable one—the two jagged stumps where his wings once connected to his body. The wings were not cleanly removed, leaving some traces of feather-covered flesh where the wings had once melded into his body, but none of these are any larger than two or three inches, being only shadows of a memory of what he once had.

In addition to the remains of his wings, Rakesh’s body is marred by many other large scars, some recognizable of wounds from blades, others more jagged as though from claws and talons, and others clearly the work of fangs. Rakesh has spent centuries fighting, and never once has he emerged entirely unscathed.

Appearance:

As with many demons, there are two parts to Rakesh’s appearance—the one he takes superficially in his human form, and the demon form which is his true appearance. In his human form, Rakesh appears as a tall, very lanky man of perhaps six feet. Though this body is by far the least often used of his two forms, it reflects the hard wear which both of his forms have been subjected to: it appears to be aged in its early thirties, with skin that is weather-hardened and marred by a multitude of scars. He has a sharp, gaunt face, with cold features that fall almost habitually into a scowl, complete with the beginnings of wrinkles resulting from that scowl, and his hunching posture rarely has him seen at his full height.

His hair is a faded gray, a reflection of the featherless head which is characteristic of so many vultures, and which is present in his demon form. Contrasting the lack of adornment present on his head in his demon form, Rakesh allows the hair of his human form to grow freely, so that it maintains enough length to fall just past his shoulders, and is left unbound. So rarely does Rakesh fight in his human form that he has become entirely unconcerned with his hair—were he concerned with fights, he would have chopped the hair off long ago, to keep it from pestering him during battle.

His eyes are a cold slate blue, the same color of the markings which run along the outsides of his arms and legs. Markings which link him to his family, Rakesh has several swirling, circular patterns which run down his arms and legs, separated at each joint so that each segment of arm and leg possesses its own marking—from shoulder to elbow, elbow to wrist, waist to knee, and knee to ankle. In addition to these markings, another, much smaller and slightly less intricate pattern encircles his neck, and a final pair of markings—two slashes of slate blue—descend at an angle from his right eye, falling across his cheek to end just below his temple.

Far more notable than the markings which decorate his skin are the scars which mar it. A multitude of scars, anything from small white lines to large, puckered and improperly healed ones, can be found across his body, the results of countless battles and his own masochism. Many of the scars are identifiable with the weapon which gave the original wounds—a clean cut from a sharp blade, a ragged gash from a claw or talon, the collection of scars given from fangs. Yet the largest of these scars are self-inflicted—two large, ragged scars which stretch down his back where his wings once could be seen whenever he took his demon form; though his wings only ever appeared in his demon form, the scars left by removing them have left their mark even in his human form.

Having no source of income, and spending his time constantly looking for fights, clothing has become the least of Rakesh’s concerns. He makes use with what he can scavenge off the demons he kills, and, when that is not enough, off humans. His current wardrobe consists of a simple hemp samue of very dull green, recently pillaged from a working villager. More often than not, Rakesh will forgo wearing the shirt, deeming it as too restricting. However, he does try to keep track of where he leaves it—some small foresight for when the weather grows cold.

Rakesh’s true appearance is far more grotesque than his hardened human form; neither truly vulture, nor truly human, but a parody of both. Built like a human in lanky arms and legs, but with the ever hunched posture of the vulture, and with arms far longer than any human’s. His head is entirely that of a vulture, with rough, almost scale-like skin covering a bald skull, and sporting a harshly curved black beak. Covered in similarly textured skin—all of which is of a gray only slightly lighter than the hair of his human form—Rakesh has sets of large talons in place of both feet and hands. The lower portions of his calves are bare of feathers, revealing the rough skin which extends down through his ankle and onto the four large talons which serve as his feet.

More flexible than an average bird’s talons, Rakesh is able to walk with a fair amount of coordination—a skill which has improved greatly since the loss of his wings—rather than being restricted to the awkward hopping performed by most birds when not in flight and on flat ground. The talons which serve as his hands are even more greatly flexible, mimicking the motion of fingers, though with far less dexterity. They are longer, too, than the talons on his feet, and more similarly shaped to hands. The sharpened claws which adorn each of his talons are the same dull black as his beak, and each is several inches long.

Where his skin is not bare, it is covered with coarse feathers of light brown and tan, none of which have any more decoration than the slight shifts in hue. Around his neck and sprouting from the sides of his forearms are longer feathers which extend past the rest of the shorter, less distinguishable feathers. From his tail bone, and falling over his butt, his feathers have sprouted into a large, slightly fanned tail of grayish-tan, only slightly more tinged with brown than the gray of his skin. The only decorations on his body are the same markings which can be found on his human body, which become slightly darker and more prominent in this form. His eyes, too, shift in color, though the slate blue of his human form lightens into a teal blue in his demon form, and the pupils are no longer distinguishable from the rest of his eyes.

Like his human form, Rakesh’s true form is marred with a multitude of scars, many of which are very similar to the ones found upon his body in his human form. Several of the scars have resulted in patches of skin where feathers cannot grow, leaving bare patches across his body where the scars become even more noticeable; the other, smaller ones, are often covered by his feathers, and less noticeable. As with his human form, the most noticeable scars are those along his back—patches of rough, puckered skin where feathers no longer grow, mixed with stumps of flesh where feathers still try to grow, as though his body believes the wings might still be there.

[/color]
[/size]

What's Beneath the Skin

Personality:

Rakesh’s personality is a complex one—then again, the insane usually are. So marred by his insanity is his personality that there is no single part to it, nor has any more than a single portion of it ever remained constant. As for that single constant, it has always been the love he has for his sister—though it, too, has had its share of alterations, however it has always been there. Even before Lysandra was born, Rakesh had been raised to believe that his inevitable sister would be his future mate, and from his youth he had been fiercely protective of her, a feeling which only grew when at last she was born, and which has diminished none at all since her death. It is no innocent love between siblings, but a twisted possessiveness, not even acceptable as the love a mate feels for its significant other, but a mockery of it, so twisted has Rakesh always been.

It is the strength with which his fragile mind has latched onto that love for Lyssie which has resulted in the great shifts in his personality, and in the current personality which he acts under. The hatred and undying rage which has burned within him since her death has broken what frail connections to reality Rakesh may once have had, leaving him to fall deeper into his pit of insanity. His mind, fighting against the reality of his sister’s death, has turned against the world and even himself, blaming anyone and everyone for her suffering and death. Unable to accept that she is truly gone, Rakesh believes that she haunts him still, and though even the hallucination of her apparition which followed him for so long has abandoned him, he still believes that, should he spill enough blood, the offering would bring her spirit back to his side.

His most recent apparition, a vaguely vulture-like imagined spirit which has claimed the name Kartik, has already begun to lead him away from this belief. It is a sadistic creature, this other part of himself, cruel both to him and to all others. Yet, as all the apparitions have before it, Kartik acts as Rakesh’s guide—these apparitions have ever housed his senses, being the only links to logic or his own survival which Rakesh has, yet still a separate part of him. As his insanity deepens, the guidance which each successive apparition provides becomes less and less. Kartik’s advice leads Rakesh down the only road his broken mind can accept—rather than face the death of his sister, than even to hope that her spirit might come back, Kartik guides Rakesh to forget himself and even her by losing himself entirely to the raging blood lust which so easily grips his fragile mind.

This new direction has left Rakesh to little more than his sadistic and masochistic tendencies; he lives only to fight, to spill blood and have his own spilled, and he revels in the thrill of battle, in the pain of his own wounds and the look of pain upon his enemy’s face. In killing, he is free, and his unstable mind can do nothing but escape in the only way it has found. As each day passes, he forgets more and more of the love he had for Lyssie, and, with Kartik’s guidance, is even glad to let that last bond go before giving himself completely to bloodshed.

Strengths:

• Insanity:: So disconnected with reality is Rakesh that he has nearly no understanding of his own limitations, and even less of an ability to limit how much of his strength he does use. He is subject to bursts of strength akin to an adrenaline rush, but with far less control.
  
• Masochism:: Rakesh has grown to become quite the masochist over the years, a result of his insanity and his warped belief that his own pain might appease his deceased sister. As crazed as it is, it does allow Rakesh to sustain quite a few injuries without being spooked or distracted by the pain—instead, he enjoys it, and it often excites him into fighting all the more fiercely.
  
• Speed and Agility:: Possessed of a lanky and very light frame with only tone muscles, Rakesh is capable of moving very quickly indeed during a fight. However, his greatest speed always came from his wings, and his ability to flight; having removed the wings himself, Rakesh has greatly stunted his speed to the point where he can rely only on his own muscles, as well as forcing himself to remain ground bound.

Weaknesses:

• Insanity:: Rakesh’s insanity may lend him spurts of strength, but it is also fully capable of leaving him unable to move; the apparitions which he believes he sees are seen all the more steadily whenever he is fighting, and can prove to be dangerous distractions, or even appear to get in the way, causing him to halt an attack or be unable to attack in the first place.
  
• Strength:: Though Rakesh has grown far stronger for his centuries of fighting, his body is still only that of a bird, limiting both the strength of his muscles, and the resilience of his bones.
  
• Lack of Training:: Rakesh’s fighting skills comes solely from experience, and are entirely unpolished. Any strikes he attempts are full of flaws which will be easily enough exploited by any fighters with a sharp eye, and he has no eye at all for detecting flaws in his enemy’s strikes.
  
• Lack of Sense:: Rakesh’s mental disabilities have resulted in most of his good sense being separated into the apparitions which he envisions as his guides. On his own, he has very little sense, and will fight wildly without protecting himself until near death. Though his apparitions are most often with him, there is still a delay to be had for any of the warnings he receives from them, and there is also a chance that the apparition will simply remain silent, or abandon him completely.

Fears:

• Lysandra’s disapproval:: Even though his sister is dead, and even the hallucinated phantom of her he saw for so long is gone, Rakesh’s greatest fear is still learning that she is displeased with him. Should his fragile state of mind ever conjure her image for him again, and should he ever be left to believe she did not approve of him, he would likely be entirely unable to cope—suicide would be highly likely should that ever occur.

Being a Part of Me

Items:

None.

Weapons:

• Talons:: Rakesh’s main weapon of choice are the deadly talons which he sports on each foot and both hands in his demon form. As sharp as any blade, and far more easily manipulated, these talons are formidable enough when combined with the fury of Rakesh’s assaults. In his human form, the talons shrink into black claws, still capable of dealing some small wounds, but far less effective, and hardly useful at all in a true fight.
  
• Beak:: Wickedly hooked and meant for carving flesh from corpses, the beak which Rakesh sports in his demon form is easily capable of rending skin from a living enemy, and Rakesh is always eager to use it in the hopes of tasting his enemy’s blood.

Abilities:

Carrion Saliva:: As a scavenger, Rakesh has consumed a great deal of rotten meat in his life. This diet has made his body resilient to a great deal of diseases, while at the same time having a strange effect on his saliva—a demonic disease grows in his saliva, a disease which causes an infected victim to begin rotting away. The saliva, when introduced into the blood of an open wound, will immediately go to work on the surrounding area, causing the flesh around the wound to begin to rot away, and will continue to spread through the bloodstream if not treated. The rotted flesh which results from the spread of the disease is highly prone to infection, and rarely heals properly.

Flaws:

Though the disease harbored by Rakesh’s saliva can wreak havoc on an enemy’s body, it is highly limited in its beginnings: to have an effect, it must be introduced directly into the blood, and it takes far more than just a few drops of his spit to begin to have an effect. To infect a wound, Rakesh essentially has to dig into his enemy’s flesh with his beak, and stay dug in while his saliva mixes with the blood. Additionally, the spread of the disease, after effecting the immediate area, slows drastically, giving the victim a great deal of time to see to its treatment. And, as it is a disease, the infection can be cured by herbal remedies or other such treatments, stopping its spread. Finally, Rakesh’s human body does not maintain the same resistance to the disease that his demon form does, so the disease is only harbored in the saliva of his demon form, and lies dormant and quite harmless while in his human form.

From Whence I Came

Family:

Demelza:: Mother, Aunt
Kalidas:: Father, Uncle
Lysandra:: Sister, Deceased

History:

To understand Rakesh’s history, one must first understand that of his family. Secluded far in the peaks of their mountain home, this family of vulture demons had maintained almost no contact with the outside world for generations. It had been family tradition for siblings to mate, and parents ensured that to each generation a single male and female were born—regardless of the cost to ensure such an outcome. This constant line of inbreeding had resulted in a number of genetic alterations and mutations over the generations—mental ones as well as physical. These demons grew more and more unstable with each passing generation, and their demonic forms began to alter—no longer did they shift into fierce vultures, but into grotesque mixtures of their human and demon forms, as though their bodies could no longer support the power of their full demon forms.

It was to this inbred family of monstrosities that Rakesh was born, and a monstrosity he truly became. From the moment he emerged from his egg, Rakesh has shared the altered state of his family, the unstable intellect and grotesque demon form. To his family, he was completely normal. Demelza and Kalidas, the siblings who had survived to become the family’s breeding pair, raised him with pride, and Rakesh easily fell into the traditions of this odd family. From even his earliest years, before he even first stepped from the nest in an attempt to take flight, Rakesh’s insanity had become clear—a flock of crows, seen only by him, constantly surrounded this young vulture, or so his hallucinations made him believe. In his youth, these crows served as his guides, as the voice of reason which he seemed to lack; in truth, they were simply another portion of his personality, separated from the rest of his self by his mental instability.

As Rakesh grew, his parents continued to breed, yet for decades each hatchling emerged as another male, and was pushed from the nest to die. Rakesh matured believing this to be the only way for the family to survive—he must have a sister, for a sister was the only way for the family to be continued. To him, the male hatchlings which were so quickly slain were merely failures, and he thought nothing of their disposal. Nor did the crows, and Rakesh’s beliefs were swiftly becoming aligned to theirs. By the time he was fully grown—a century into his life—the crows decided everything, and Rakesh merely agreed and went along; to him, this simple flock of birds was all knowing, and he trusted his life to their keeping.

Perhaps half a century after he had matured, it was the crows who led him to the nest to meet his future mate. With Demelza and Kalidas looking on, Rakesh approached the newly hatched female, and took her in his arms. At the leading of the crows, he placed a kiss on the hatchling’s head, claiming her as his own—much to the approval of his parents. Yet it was not just the crows’ guidance which led Rakesh to claim her; so long had he awaited the sister that was to be his, without even having seen her, he had grown fiercely protective of her, a protective instinct which flared upon meeting the hatchling. As Lysandra grew, she found herself rarely beyond the sight of her brother.

Yet things did not go as expected; while Rakesh grew possessive of his future mate, forming a bond with her which was something akin to love or obsession, Lyssie did not begin to return his feelings. She loved her brother, but only as that: her brother. Rakesh spent his days following the advice of the crows, attempting to win his sister’s affections, yet even they, who seemed to know all, could not bring the young vulture to see her brother as her mate. Eventually Rakesh calmed his advances, and settled in to wait, certain that she would one day come to him, if only he could be the brother she loved long enough to make her realize she wanted more. Yet even when he backed off, Rakesh still remained fiercely protective of Lyssie, never letting her go far unless he would be with her.

So it was inevitable that, when Lyssie decided to leave the secluded home of her family, Rakesh could only follow. Leaving the generational home had been unheard of with the vulture family for centuries, so ingrained in each child had been the belief that their way of life was the only one available. Yet Lysandra had been different since her birth, evident by her inability to accept Rakesh as her mate, and by her odd mentality—Lyssies’ own mental instabilities, while not truly understood by a single member of her family, not even Rakesh, had made her far less brutal than befitting a demon, far less cautious, and something nearly akin to a simpleton—though Rakesh never let it be said aloud. So when Lyssie decided she wanted to leave, to explore what lay beyond the mountain peaks, though Rakesh tried to dissuade her, she was not stopped by their parents—Demelza and Kalidas both had given up on their daughter, and had already begun planning to try again for another, regardless of Rakesh’s feelings for her. When Rakesh decided to leave with her, he was not stopped either, for their parents saw this as their chance to try again.

The siblings left when Rakesh had reached an age of three centuries, plenty old enough for him to take care of himself and, so he thought, his sister as well. But the secluded life of the inbreeding vultures could not have prepared him for the harsh reality of the outside world, from which they had been so carefully sheltered. And while Rakesh could look to the crows for guidance, could use what he believed to be their all-knowing wisdom to lead him from danger, Lyssie’s mental instabilities offered her no such guidance. She was naïve and trusting, and held no regard for her own safety. Rakesh could only do so much to spare her the consequences of her actions.

Rakesh began to grow strong as experience toughened his body and sharpened his skills, but it was not nearly fast enough a transition for Lyssie. Their travels saw her beaten and raped multiple times, and each new wound on her saw Rakesh lose just another part of his grip on reality. When one of these demons happened to be a vulture demon, and when his taking advantage of Lyssie resulted in her bearing a fertilized egg, it was the flock of crows alone which kept him from losing himself to the crazed emotions which struck him. Maternal instincts saw that Lyssie cared for the egg, with Rakesh seeing to the protection of both, though every glimpse of the egg seemed to stab pain into his heart—it was corrupt, this egg, as damaged and repulsive as though it carried a plague, for it was not his seed which gave the egg life, but that of a stranger, an outsider, and of one who had taken his dear sister by force.

Rakesh could not bring himself to approach the nest his sister had made when the egg showed signs it was near to hatching; he could not bear to see the impure thing. Yet he never had to face the hatchling which emerged from the egg; when at last the egg had cracked, it was as though the hatchling’s freeing itself from the shell freed Lyssie of her maternal instincts. She abandoned the hatchling, sought her brother, and informed him she was ready to explore again. Rakesh could only follow. Despite his rage at the circumstances, and at the hatchling which was now certain to die, he could not bring himself to blame Lyssie, or see her as any less his own. Yet the events had changed him, and he urged Lyssie, day after day, to return home, desperate to protect her from a repetition of those events. She refused.

One such attempt turned into an argument, a rare occurrence between the siblings—so often was Rakesh careful not to upset his dear sister, that he rarely pushed her, but the memory of the tainted hatchling was still fresh on his mind, and he was far more concerned with sparing them both another impure child than with sparing her feelings. Yet when Lyssie truly became upset, Rakesh could not bring himself to continue the argument, any more than he could bring himself to remain near her. He needed to fume, and though the crows and Lyssie both urged him to stay, he left her, promising he’d come back. It was not a promise which Lyssie lived to see him keep—when Rakesh returned, it was to a corpse, battered, broken, and bloody, a mere mockery of the mate and sister he had loved so dearly.

It was her death, and the sight of her defiled corpse, which finished what the hatchling had started—Rakesh’s fragile grips to reality shattered, and his insanity grew in leaps and bounds. The crows which had guided him so steadily for centuries abandoned him, and in the silence left by their passing, Rakesh knew nothing but his own rage. In his insane fury, Rakesh hunted down the demon who had slaughtered his sister, and with the full strength of his crazed state of mind, slaughtered the demon and tore its corpse to pieces. Yet even this was not enough; Rakesh returned to his sister’s corpse, his rage still burning but no longer with anywhere to turn—but himself.

It was so simple to him, so clear—he had left her, he had failed; he may as well have struck her down himself. In his fury, he turned his talons and beak upon himself, and tore his wings from his back piece by piece, laying the bloodied chunks over his sister’s corpse—his last gesture of protection for her, to shield her corpse from the world. For days he remained by her side, protecting her corpse from any would-be scavengers—without the crows, and with his anger fading as the remains of his wings scabbed and scarred over, Rakesh was lost. It was only when he began to see her, and to hear her, that he began to come back to himself. She was everywhere, everywhere he looked he would see her face, and with every moment he heard her voice breathing his name, calling for her brother—just as his insanity had created the crows, now it conjured an apparition of his beloved sister, a mockery of what she had been in life, tainted by his own hatred into a phantom which haunted him, taunted him and drove him to further his vengeance.

Killing the demon who had slain his sister was not enough; nor was punishing himself. To Rakesh, the haunting spirit screamed for more, and his resolve grew. By the time his back had healed completely, leaving grotesque scars in place of his wings, Rakesh had decided that his vengeance could not be complete until all who inhabited the outside world had been slain—after all, none of her pain would have happened had she remained in the secluded home of their parents, or so he believed.

A century saw Rakesh wandering with no more directive than to find the next creature with a pulse and see that it stopped. What skills he had begun to hone while protecting his sister he now began to perfect, constantly fighting as he was. Yet Rakesh did not fight only to win; he fought to appease the phantom image of Lyssie which haunted him. Every wound given, to him or to a foe, was an offering of blood to her. Rakesh fought wildly, rarely protecting himself from an enemy’s attacks, for in his need to punish himself for Lyssie’s death, he had grown rather masochistic, enjoying the pain he received as much as that he inflicted on his enemies. He did not fight to die, though—no, masochistic as he was, he had not yet become suicidal, believing he owed it to Lyssie to survive in pain rather than to escape to the oblivion of death. Whatever sense of survival he yet retained manifested itself in with the apparition, so that Lyssie’s reactions guided his fights, and told him when to protect himself, and when to not.

Yet this arrangement could last only so long, as unstable as it was. When Rakesh came across another winged demon, a large bird of prey, the urge to tear the wings from the creature as he had done to himself grew within him. But when he at last gained the opportunity to cleave the wings from the demon’s body, the action took him back to the day he stood above his sister’s corpse, pulling his own wings from his body with his every ounce of strength. The vision, so real to his unstable mind, shook him to the core, and when he’d finished with the demon’s wings, he did not bother to finish it off, but fled, with the image of Lyssie’s broken corpse fresh in his mind.

From that point, the apparition of his sister was no longer the taunting, teasing form she had been when alive—it was her corpse which followed him around, and which guided him. The constant reminder of her death ate at him, driving him further into his insanity. When next he came across a demon to fight, he quickly jumped into the fray, knowing no other way to rid himself of his sister’s haunting visage, to spare himself her judgmental eyes. He fought fiercely, but with no guidance, for the apparition of his sister which had guided him so well until now, was merely still. And, when he tried to land what might have been a decisive blow, Rakesh suddenly saw Lysandra’s face before his talons, stricken with fear as she called out to him. He struggled to stop the attack, and though it was far less of a blow, it still landed—and Rakesh could not convince himself that it was not Lyssie who had received the blow from his own talons. The demon struck him down as he remained in his daze, and left him for dead.

It took Rakesh weeks to recover from the wounds he had gained in that fight; but it was not the wounds which bothered him. Lyssie, his dear sister, had abandoned him, with the last image he had of her being filled with terror—fear of him. His frail intellect could not handle the implication, and so he reacted in the only way he knew—with rage. Rakesh shut out the possibility that he had struck down Lyssie, and instead turned all his energies onto the demon he had fought when it had all taken place, to the one who had so nearly killed him. He placed all his hope in the idea that, should he slaughter that demon, then Lyssie would be pleased with him; he placed all his hope in the fact that she might return.

He managed to find the demon, and, fueled by his raging insanity, and without Lysandra’s apparition there to distract him from the kill, Rakesh did manage to slaughter the demon. But Lysandra did not return. Despondent and lost, Rakesh remained by the corpse of the demon, feeding off it for days as he awaited his sister’s return. But his insanity was too far gone to conjure again the spirit of his sister; instead, as Rakesh began to decide that his only purpose was to continue to kill, to cause suffering to the world which had brought his sister so much, his insanity created for him a guide which reflected this rage and sadism.

A phantom vulture who claimed the name of one of Rakesh’s ancestors, Kartik arrived to pull Rakesh away from the picked over corpse of his fallen enemy, and to lead him into a future without his sister. Far more malicious than any of his insanity’s former conjurings, Kartik guides Rakesh with an iron hand, allowing him no rest as he forces him onward, willing him to kill and maim more and more, as though all the blood in the world might just be enough to bring back Lysandra. With blood on his mind and the hopes of having it in his talons, Rakesh is eager to follow Kartik’s most prominent advice—to find himself a place in the war with the demon lords. Without Lyssie there to haunt and guide him, Rakesh is willing to bow to whichever demon lord will take him, as long as it means he’ll get to kill for the one which takes him.

How You Play

RP Sample:

anyone can make what I have built

♠ What the hell are you doing, boy? The hell do you think? Wasting time, clearly. What the fuck good does staring at the damn sea do for you? Does me plenty, bastard, didn’t you know there’s supposed to be some damned demon out there? I want its blood—it should have plenty of it. You fool, that damned thing isn’t coming out any time soon. May as well go toss yourself in after it—save me the fucking effort of watching you. Maybe I will. The hell you will. Stop being a damned moron and get your ass moving—there are bigger fish to go for than that washed up legend. Very funny. What if I want this damn fish? Then throw your worthless self in there, and see if Lysandra is there waiting at the bottom. I’ll be sure to tell her how much of a fucking failure you turned out to be. A hiss, a clacking of his beak, and he shouts, Shut the hell up! and takes a swipe. But the bird has already nimbly dodged away.

♠ Are you quite finished, then? His eyes narrow, another hiss, and he turns away. Screw you, fucker. Now that’s out of your system, it’s time you stopped just hoping to run across some random demon—there are far better ways to get what you’re after, and what I am. And that is? Moron! There is a damned war beginning, and you insist on hunting down stragglers. It’s time you start putting yourself to a true test. Seek out these so-called demon lords; you’ll find they’ll have plenty of blood to offer you, provided you can take it. You know I can. Can you? We will see. Now move your ass, you’ll need to find out where one of them is, and I’ve no patience for your amble today. Another hiss, Shut the fuck up, I’ll find my own way. A fine job you’ve done of that before my guidance…

♠ A fierce shriek, and he leapt after the cackling bird, missing again as the creature slipped away from his strike, only to dive upon his unprotected head. Another swipe forced the vulture back, and when the creature sped forward, he followed, his talons digging eagerly into the ground as he leapt forward in bounds. Come along then, you’ll never reach them at this pace! He hissed again, throwing himself forward as though he meant to fly, crashing back to the ground and continuing to pelt forward after the fleeing vulture.

anyone can find the same white pills

♠ _rakesh
♠ ₄₁₉
♠ _{lyrics © jimmy eat world}
♠ _{very, very, very talkative new guide for him XD}

__________________________________________

How Did You Find Us?

Found ya on Proboards Support

How Long Have You Been Role Playing?

5 or 6 years or somewhere around there

[/blockquote]

[RIN]

I know you want a crit, but this bio is great, so you're gonna have to get over it xD I love his psychosis, he's going to make a great addition to the site^^

Accepted<3