Post by Captain Cedric Rackham on Jan 31, 2011 0:13:37 GMT -5
real big fan of yours ,
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"Get away politicians and priests
Refined to consume
It will be laid down on
The proud and the damned"[/center]
quite the joke to you ,
[/color][/font][/center]"so, hon. welcome to the distorted world.
what's your name?"
"Hon? Hardly, and I will have you refer to me as Judge Magister Gabranth of the Archadian Empire. Show some respect cur, lest you know who you face."
"ey, that's pretty cute. how old are you, and where are ya affiliated?"
"Cute, you do not know the definition, obviously. Let us ‘cut to the chase.’ I hail from the land of Ivalice, as it my home world. Landis is my place of birth, though I presently reside within Archadia. On the seventeenth of April I will have my thirty-seventh birthday. That being said I am thirty-six years of age and my alliance is held steadfast with my world of origin."
"young'un, are you? well then, i can deal. so... how bout you and me go on a date?"
"Young’un? You are certainly absurd, and you may not take me on a date. I am hardly interested in such activities, and if such my preference lies with a more masculine variety. What? It looks like I’ve said something wrong."
"aaand.. what is your specialization?"
"My specialization on the field is primarily in the profession of dealing damage. I am on the field purely for the sake of annihilating the enemies with my trade-mark ‘Quickenings’ and ruthless attacks. However, I do know a few spells concerned with black and green magicks, one might say in that case I am more or less a support when paired or grouped with the right persons."
"cool, cool. i guess youre a little talented filly? i like 'em like that."
"Excuse me?"
kissed me in your room ,
[/color][/font][/center]"and on to the second section! how tall are you, exactly?"
"I am exactly five feet and ten inches. Hardly impressive, but I assure you, my height has little to do with my abilities."
"ah, just three inches taller. hm. so, what's under your clothes? not that i wont find out for myself."
"Three inches taller? You are not all that impressive yourself, and under my clothes? Must we discuss this, it is quite immodest and I. . . Forget it. Let’s go with athletic; I won’t bother with the details."
"okay, sorry. let's talk about some.. non - crude things? what's your personal style?"
"Personal style? You mean, how I dress? I am often always wearing my armor, it is a symbol of my status in the Archadian Empire and I am seldom seen without it, or my helm. Before you even start asking me about the details about how impractical it is, or how hot it is, let me say that is unimportant to the overall design. It keeps me safe, and that’s all that matters. What I wear off the clock? My leathers, one can never be too ready, as I am always on call. "
"hey, you look like that celebrity... what was the name...?"
"Judge Magister Gabranth of the Archadian Empire, of the Ninth division. I am primarily concerned with information dissemination and as a personal body-guard to the Solidor family. If you are interested in the politics of Ivalice, or know what’s good for you, you’ll remember my name."
"right! i remember now. you look just like them. except better, heh heh..."
"I’ve already stated my name, are you defunct?”
replied i love you too ,
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"soo, do you like or dislike anything?"
"Likes and dislikes? In any particular order, my likes include solitude, if anything I enjoy being alone. Having time to myself is something few and far between, along with respect, it is something I like receiving, though I cannot say I am keen on giving it back. It varies on the individual I suppose. I also enjoy finger foods, strips of chicken and that nonsense. One of my greatest dislikes is for a man of my own blood, my brother, though dislike is perhaps too soft a word. I do not particularly enjoy being forcefully woken up, though it frequently happens. I also have a fond dislike for sweet foods or anything overly sweet, it makes my stomach curl."
"ohmyjonas, me too! wow, thats such a coincidence. so have any dirty habits or secrets?"
"You too have a brother you loathe? Perhaps you are not as bad as I first assumed. Wait, you want to know my habits, and secrets? I am a man of many secrets, though one that is far more public is the occupation of my brother. He is Captain of the Dalmascan Knights; this has proved many opportune moments to arise before the great Archadian Empire. Habits I have? I bite my lip when I am thinking or pondering on something of great importance, I pick at my food, mix my peas into my mashed potatoes and fall asleep standing up."
"coolness, yo. umm. home dawg. anyways. describe yourself."
"Describe myself, easier said than done. I am a man of unwavering loyalty, my dedication is unfaltering to the house Solidor and my position I hold above all else, even family. Those who are affiliated call me ‘Dog’ and have reason to do so. Many view me having as having a cold exterior to match my armor, though I would not go as far to say this about myself. I am often conflicted in the decisions that keep Archadia safe, and those I do care about, as few as there are. My temper is often out of control in some circumstances, though this is rare and often unprovoked, however I always hold a grudge. Grudge who grudges it, a motto I live by."
"like dude! we're so compatible..."
"I don’t even know you, and I don’t even know who you think you are to attempt camaraderie with me."
a little bit insecure ,
[/color][/font][/center]"okay, let's rush through this. i'm thinking dancing? then, we can talk about rooms."
"Dancing? I can Waltz, it is a respectable dance, and it requires effort from both the lead and partner. I’d say it is a good way of reading someone, though hardly an intimate act."
"shh, if my boss knew about our secret romance... so. what's your heritage?"
"Secret what? You’re stepping ahead of yourself. As I’ve said before, I hail from Landis. My mother has long been since diseased, my father, I never knew him. However, my brother is still alive, though I don’t presently have other relations I am aware of. For this I am fortunate. "
"wow, your family would love me! have anyone else in your family?"
". . . Just get out, you’ve become tiresome."
"oh. sounds horrible. haha. anything else important happen in your life?"
"Mile-stones? I can name a few. The destruction of Landis, one I often remember from my boyhood years, along with my joining of the Archadian Empire, the very cause of my unhappiness. I clearly remember the day my brother left, and this is why these memories are so vivid. Shortly after I joined the Archadies Military Akademy, and despite my heritage I rose through the ranks and became Judge Magister after a period of time. I remember using my brother’s face against his own kingdom, killing King Ramnas of Dalmasca in his name, all for the benefit of the Empire I now serve. To kill one for the good of many, that is what the Lord Vayne tried to do for the good of both Dalmasca and Archadia in order to prevent any further casualties. Many failed to understand this, such as my dear friend Drace, and I remember her death, as I too, ended her life by my blade. Though I was reluctant in doing so, it was all in order to protect the Lord Vayne’s brother, Larsa Solidor. I would do anything for that boy; even sacrifice my own life in order to save his. After confronting my brother, Basch and the Lady Ashe I did this, after my second defeat by their hands I turned against my master, Vayne Solidor and became a stray. In that moment, I had regained my lost pride and honor, everything I had thrown away in order to assume the guise of Gabranth, and in the end I redeemed my name at the cost of everything. I survived however, to my own dismay, though a second chance at life, living one true and honorable does not seem so bad at all."
"hey, look! we're done. so, i would ask you on a second date, but i'm about to explode. no, really. please step back."
"My throat is dry, this is enough talking for one day. Now, fetch me a drink, I thirst."
of this mistreatment ,
[/color][/font][/center]name. noah.
age. nineteen, going on thirty-six.
rp experience. way too long to count. I’d guess around six or seven years now.
rules. Thundaga, what a paltry spell.
rp sample.He eats but once a day. The sustenance of the Gods is all he requires.
It tastes like ash, the smell of sulfur assaulting his nose, no desire to consume what lies before him. There is a gnawing hunger beneath the hollow of his ribs, an ache that persists and demands. He cannot remember the last thing that had substance and did not melt into the shrinking knot of his stomach.
He endures and the hunger is all but forgotten. It is a demand of the body, easily blotted out by the illusion of the mind.
Each day he begins his descent, deeper into the pit he goes, a step at a time if it should allow. He traverses the ever familiar scenery of fire and brimstone. Dramatics at best, a presentation his grey eyes have all but adjusted to. The light is no longer glaring.
Gabranth is a coffin seeking a corpse.
His pace is slow, the chinking of his armor a muted noise in comparison to the roaring explosions of geysers. The heat is sweltering beneath his plate and he assumes in a childish notion that his face may have all but melted off days ago but he has lost his concept of time. Days could be weeks, and those weeks could be months. These calculations formed by man do not matter to the Gods. They have waged their wars longer than he has been alive.
The Judge Magister is not the only one who wanders these grounds. There had been others, some deemed worthy, and those who are not linger like ghosts. One way or another, they all go mad. It is not their choice, as even their own fate is out of their hands. Predetermined paths are placed before the warriors, steps they must walk regardless. Even as they leave this hell he explains, though he doubts they listen to the ramblings of a forgotten toy.
That is all they are, pawns. It is an existence he has known far too long. Sometimes he wonders why he was picked for such a task, and he damns the Gods as though he has the right.
Gabranth wanders because there is nothing else to do but make his ritualistic rounds. It has been too long; he thinks and now wonders when the next will arrive. His hands move to wipe sweat from his brow but his own touch is only greeted by hot steel, features comprised of jagged shapes and gears that serve no true purpose. He stands with back to the throne he often stands before. Purple rock forms a wicked chair of gaunt faces and poorly carved stone.
These are broken warriors he fights, those without purpose.
He hears it then, footsteps. This draws his attention from his own bitter musings. “Who are you?” He mutters, his inquisitive nature long gone and what once may have been a question now a statement. With each movement his plate groans and scrapes and creaks until he can at last look into the face of the most recent intruder.
For a moment he finds himself faltering in the face of such cruelty, a cold indifference that draws him in. He has been basking the heat of his own repentance for too long. How he longs for a feeling such as this. The being says nothing but instead stares with luminescent cyan eyes. “Just another stray being toyed with by the Gods.” Still he continues to look with gaze unblinking, lips affixed into an expression that resembled something of amusement. Or is it disgust? Gabranth can’t tell. The man in question laughs, a dry and hollow sound that reverberates through his entire being. He is perplexed not at the reaction but the manner of how it is presented.
Lofty, that is the only word that comes to mind as he continues to stare at the lean shape of the one before him. There is an air of superiority that the Judge Magister cannot place and he merely wonders why. Why was he laughing, the situation was not humorous in question, so why? He cannot wrap his mind around this action and instead he presses on. “No matter, chose the path you wish to take.” His tone is unmistakably venomous. “They all lead to the same end anyways. You die fighting, like a dog.”
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