Uncle Redding Roarin Fletcher
Dedicated
He is going to punch you in every orifice you own.
Roleplay posts: 178 
Age: 52?
Physical Description: "Roarin" Redding Fletcher is 5'9 of pure muscle, pure hard drinking, hard fighting, hard living muscle. He used to have a beard he burned it off in a tavern brawl he grew his white hair out to compensate. He is almost as wide as he is tall and many people have confused him for a dwarf. Many people have also been beaten half to death for suggesting it. He has an eye patch though there does still seem to be an eye underneath it.
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Clothes and Equipment: A pair of iron gauntlets adorned with spikes. Two wine skins one filled with ale, the other filled with something that will "Make you roar." A surprising amount of gold from questionable sources.
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Registered: Nov 13, 2015 19:19:21 GMT -8
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Post by Uncle Redding Roarin Fletcher on Nov 13, 2015 20:19:24 GMT -8
 The seat of power on Carmela Island, this building is where people come with their grievances and issues. Unfortunately for all this is a terrible place to get any real help. This should come as a surprise to no one since this island elected a notorious drunk as their mayor. |
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Deleted
Roleplay posts: 0
Registered: Nov 21, 2024 6:57:04 GMT -8
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Post by Deleted on Nov 14, 2015 11:23:45 GMT -8
She wandered through the city, and although it was pretty to look at it, she began to feel the pangs of hunger. Raised well by her mother and father, stowing and running away from Esphiridon has been the most ballsy thing she's ever done.
She had never stolen anything, and had only ever killed forest beasts to eat. Her list of criminal activities was a non-existent one, and she didn't want to start by stealing any food. Then again, she also didn't want to spend what little coin she had.
After a few questions and lazy points all over, she came across this big red building and read the sign outside. Taking a deep breath, she opened the doors and stepped inside. Maybe HERE they would have an updated shipping schedule, and maybe a list of more affordable places to stay that weren't Resort-Level expensive?
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Uncle Redding Roarin Fletcher
Dedicated
He is going to punch you in every orifice you own.
Roleplay posts: 178
Age: 52?
Physical Description: "Roarin" Redding Fletcher is 5'9 of pure muscle, pure hard drinking, hard fighting, hard living muscle. He used to have a beard he burned it off in a tavern brawl he grew his white hair out to compensate. He is almost as wide as he is tall and many people have confused him for a dwarf. Many people have also been beaten half to death for suggesting it. He has an eye patch though there does still seem to be an eye underneath it.
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Clothes and Equipment: A pair of iron gauntlets adorned with spikes. Two wine skins one filled with ale, the other filled with something that will "Make you roar." A surprising amount of gold from questionable sources.
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Registered: Nov 13, 2015 19:19:21 GMT -8
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Post by Uncle Redding Roarin Fletcher on Nov 14, 2015 11:32:47 GMT -8
A severe women looking women Sits at a desk doing paper work. Unlike the rest of island she looks trim and professional though still lightly dressed. She glances up at Soraya the gestures at a nearby table filled neat stacks of paper.
"For official complaints against the mayor please take a form and fill it out. The fine will be paid out to you in 3-4 weeks."
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Deleted
Roleplay posts: 0
Registered: Nov 21, 2024 6:57:04 GMT -8
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Post by Deleted on Nov 14, 2015 11:35:35 GMT -8
"What?" asked Soraya out of knee-jerk reaction. Complaints against the Mayor? What, they happened that often?
"Oh, no, I'm not-- I'm not here to complain," Soraya said and then she stepped forward toward the organized-looking woman, in fact, the only woman that actually seemed to be WORKING on the island.
"I was just wondering if you had an updated shipping schedule," the young woman said, and lifting a hand to wipe sweat from her forehead and temples. She really had to find a set of better clothes once she got that schedule and knew how long she'd be on the island.
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Uncle Redding Roarin Fletcher
Dedicated
He is going to punch you in every orifice you own.
Roleplay posts: 178
Age: 52?
Physical Description: "Roarin" Redding Fletcher is 5'9 of pure muscle, pure hard drinking, hard fighting, hard living muscle. He used to have a beard he burned it off in a tavern brawl he grew his white hair out to compensate. He is almost as wide as he is tall and many people have confused him for a dwarf. Many people have also been beaten half to death for suggesting it. He has an eye patch though there does still seem to be an eye underneath it.
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Clothes and Equipment: A pair of iron gauntlets adorned with spikes. Two wine skins one filled with ale, the other filled with something that will "Make you roar." A surprising amount of gold from questionable sources.
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Registered: Nov 13, 2015 19:19:21 GMT -8
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Post by Uncle Redding Roarin Fletcher on Nov 14, 2015 11:42:29 GMT -8
The women looks up at Soraya in surprise. She says with a hint of annoyance.
"Yes they happen frequently and considering how you look that means you haven't met him yet."
Without looking she grabs a piece of paper from her desk. The women stands up and brings it over to Soraya.
"Here you are miss. Is there anything else?"
The next departing ship is destined for Ozymandias and leaves tomorrow afternoon.
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Deleted
Roleplay posts: 0
Registered: Nov 21, 2024 6:57:04 GMT -8
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Post by Deleted on Nov 14, 2015 11:53:01 GMT -8
Soraya glanced down at the schedule and a smile broke out over her face.
"No, no, that's it. Thank you!" she said to the woman and was about to leave the building, and hesitated. She was going to ask where she could find better clothes, but if she was just going to be leaving tomorrow afternoon, then there was no point. "Thanks again!"
She left the Parliament office and folded the piece of paper, sliding it into her bag, right beside the large green stone she couldn't seem to let go of. "We'll be in Ozmodias by tomorrow," she murmured quietly, as if the rock could hear her.
"Now, to find that Tits and Butts place..."
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Deleted
Roleplay posts: 0
Registered: Nov 21, 2024 6:57:05 GMT -8
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Post by Deleted on Apr 8, 2016 15:53:30 GMT -8
"What do you mean, he is not here?" Esperanza demanded of the stone-faced secretary. It was obvious that the feisty little Spanish woman was upset. And it wasn't new. Not only did he constantly cause women to be upset, but Esperanza was easily upset.
It came from her feisty blood, no doubt. The curvaceous, vivacious threw her hands up and walked away from the secretary, the one who actually kept the island running and headed towards the door, a whiskey sway to her hips, her light brown hair bouncing and curling and swaying in its untamable mass.
"I will just find him myself, and when I do, I will make sure that he pays!" She spat, and muttered beneath her breath, "Hijo de puta."
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Samael
Dedicated
Evolution takes time.
Roleplay posts: 222
Age: Unknown.
Physical Description: The seemingly young man before you stands at the imposing height of 5'10. There's a rich, deep complexion to his skin, and it could be considered desiresable among gossipers. However, he is not without Mara along his body, having minute scarring in various areas. It's clear by the astute that he's seen battle, and his presence is made known by the miasma of ambition that radiates off him. His body is hardened by muscle, though scouring his frame. His body is not without their imperfections, but even so, his old wounds give off the realization that he is not entirely vain.
Clothes and Equipment: Donning roguish attire, Samael can be seen cloaked in a fur jacket adorned with magical properties. Power radiates from the article of clothing, though it's easily unnoticed. Unfamiliar fabric hangs along his frame, though it seems to consistently shift about, rippling akin to water. Some say that he typically wears nothing, and dons a miasma of dark magic to cover himself appropriately. The undeniable rattling of metal emanates from him, and the source stems from a great sword that is linked together with a sinister looking chain. Both glow with dark energies at times, and it's safe to assume that they've been blessed... Or cursed by higher powers.
Player's online availability : On most of the time, most responsive in the afternoons, and evenings.
Registered: Mar 23, 2016 21:24:20 GMT -8
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Post by Samael on Apr 8, 2016 16:02:38 GMT -8
Having been busily training, slaying, maiming, destroying, burning, and committing a few sinful acts, Samael could be seen stepping out of what appeared to be a decaying rip in the air itself. Naturally, this is done in an alleyway of sorts, as to avoid any issues with the public masses. His great-sword is dispelled as to not attract too much attention, and before he paces out of the darkened corridor that led into the bright streets, his clothing slowly shifts into something a bit less blood-stained. Leather boots are strapped to his feet, adopting a light-weight tunic and what some would denote as genie pants. He appears to look like an exotic native with his get-up, and the uproar of a local lass leaves him thoroughly annoyed already.
And to think he was trying to conduct business in a place like this? His cold, unrelenting hues bear down upon what he perceived as a loud drunkard, pausing at the entrance of the alley-way as he studies them in silent. She didn't seem to be from here, either..and she struck him as someone whom was up to no good. A small smile forms upon his face, steadily approaching as a hand stashes itself within a pocket.
"You sound like you're having a rough time."
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Deleted
Roleplay posts: 0
Registered: Nov 21, 2024 6:57:05 GMT -8
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Post by Deleted on Apr 13, 2016 16:57:18 GMT -8
Her thick, chocolate-brown curls were bouncing with the anger of her walk before she hears a smooth, masculine voice from over her shoulder. She pauses and turns to look at him, her Latin Eyes sparkling with her bad humor.
"Did you figure that all out on your own, hm?" she asked, her accent spicy and as she turned to him, he'd be able to see that that wasn't the only thing that was hot. She had a killer figure, one that she clearly enjoyed showing off and did not seem to be ashamed of in the least. Her hands settled on her wide hips as she shifted her weight sassily to one round hip.
"Do you have anything important to say or did you just want to waste my time, hm? All of you men are the same, so come on, let me hear it, si?" Large golden jewelry jangled as she gestured with her hands, obviously a passionate and feisty young woman who had just about had it with the male gender.
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Samael
Dedicated
Evolution takes time.
Roleplay posts: 222
Age: Unknown.
Physical Description: The seemingly young man before you stands at the imposing height of 5'10. There's a rich, deep complexion to his skin, and it could be considered desiresable among gossipers. However, he is not without Mara along his body, having minute scarring in various areas. It's clear by the astute that he's seen battle, and his presence is made known by the miasma of ambition that radiates off him. His body is hardened by muscle, though scouring his frame. His body is not without their imperfections, but even so, his old wounds give off the realization that he is not entirely vain.
Clothes and Equipment: Donning roguish attire, Samael can be seen cloaked in a fur jacket adorned with magical properties. Power radiates from the article of clothing, though it's easily unnoticed. Unfamiliar fabric hangs along his frame, though it seems to consistently shift about, rippling akin to water. Some say that he typically wears nothing, and dons a miasma of dark magic to cover himself appropriately. The undeniable rattling of metal emanates from him, and the source stems from a great sword that is linked together with a sinister looking chain. Both glow with dark energies at times, and it's safe to assume that they've been blessed... Or cursed by higher powers.
Player's online availability : On most of the time, most responsive in the afternoons, and evenings.
Registered: Mar 23, 2016 21:24:20 GMT -8
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Post by Samael on Apr 14, 2016 12:34:16 GMT -8
Samael would not openly admit it, though he did allow his eyes to briefly wander - it was almost by reflex, these days, and they both would be quite aware of his scrutiny. Despite this, his head cocks to the side, and his eyes take on a bit of a harsh turn. Did she truly believe him to be 'man', some creature that was entirely comprised of errors and faults? He approaches her with a hint of hostility, though he opts to pause before the spanish woman, and look down upon her - both metaphorically, and literally.
"You'd do well to address someone whom is superior to you with proper respect, woman. I am not some common man you'll find on these dirtied streets. Now...tell me what your problem is, and I might just be able to be of help. For the right price, or information, naturally." He states, his voice relatively soft, yet demanding.
This was the tone of someone whom got what they wanted, one way, or another.
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Deleted
Roleplay posts: 0
Registered: Nov 21, 2024 6:57:05 GMT -8
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Post by Deleted on May 11, 2016 15:10:05 GMT -8
He approached, and the belligerent brunette took a step back. Those flashing Spanish eyes of hers narrowed with her temper, and her golden-bangled arm twisted towards the small of her back, where a small bejeweled dagger waited at the small of her back, nestled between the little dimples in her smooth skin that men seemed to like. Esperanza didn’t like the tone of his voice, and she didn’t like the way he was looking down at her – although it was hard not to given her petite height. Still, this brazen island witch packed a punch and had a whole lotta attitude for someone so tiny. She shook her head back, boundless chocolate curls drifting and bouncing around her naked shoulders, caressing the elegant column of her throat.
“I don’t really respond well to threats,” she told him, her Carmela accent flirting on her voice. “And unlike whoever YOU have mistaken me for, I don’t need your help. I have my own talents.” The fingers on her other hand danced, and green-hued sparkles and glow twisted and curled around them, illuminating her dark eyes.
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Samael
Dedicated
Evolution takes time.
Roleplay posts: 222
Age: Unknown.
Physical Description: The seemingly young man before you stands at the imposing height of 5'10. There's a rich, deep complexion to his skin, and it could be considered desiresable among gossipers. However, he is not without Mara along his body, having minute scarring in various areas. It's clear by the astute that he's seen battle, and his presence is made known by the miasma of ambition that radiates off him. His body is hardened by muscle, though scouring his frame. His body is not without their imperfections, but even so, his old wounds give off the realization that he is not entirely vain.
Clothes and Equipment: Donning roguish attire, Samael can be seen cloaked in a fur jacket adorned with magical properties. Power radiates from the article of clothing, though it's easily unnoticed. Unfamiliar fabric hangs along his frame, though it seems to consistently shift about, rippling akin to water. Some say that he typically wears nothing, and dons a miasma of dark magic to cover himself appropriately. The undeniable rattling of metal emanates from him, and the source stems from a great sword that is linked together with a sinister looking chain. Both glow with dark energies at times, and it's safe to assume that they've been blessed... Or cursed by higher powers.
Player's online availability : On most of the time, most responsive in the afternoons, and evenings.
Registered: Mar 23, 2016 21:24:20 GMT -8
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Post by Samael on May 11, 2016 15:51:36 GMT -8
Amusement splays upon the Demon's features as Oliveria takes a rightful step backward, a sign of admittance in his eyes. Samael stood tall, and the rippling muscle that contoured his body, along with an imposing aura did well to make most people nervous, witch or not...she had a right to prepare to defend herself, though she was mistaken on his intentions, despite the slightly provoking smile upon his features. A thick miasma roamed along their feet, mostly unnoticeable, but it generally thickened as he closed in on the gap between them. He watches her features and body language with the upmost scrutiny, and his eyes languidly shift up and down, as if to blatantly observe her proportions.
"I don't recall giving an actual threat...but maybe you're just a bit nervous. If I wanted to do you harm, I wouldn't waste words with you. And if you had your own talents, you wouldn't be walking around and creating a scene, aye? I'm sure you can manage on your own, but I desire your company, and will have it, if you're not disposed to try taking me on. It's a fight you wouldn't win, and we both have better things to do...no?"
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Deleted
Roleplay posts: 0
Registered: Nov 21, 2024 6:57:05 GMT -8
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Post by Deleted on May 11, 2016 16:06:57 GMT -8
She noticed the miasma almost immediately. They were in Carmella, after all, a tropical island paradise, in broad daylight. Of course she noticed the miasma, and a green circle appeared around her booted feet, the glow dancing like the aurora borealis around her curvaceous calves. It worked as a boundary, and the miasmic mist butted up against it as if coming up against a wall.
She backed up another step, her circle traveling with her until her shoulder blades brushed against the brick wall of the parliament building behind her. Fear was not written on her face, however. There was sensuality there in the turn of her lips, and a woman’s righteous anger bright in her eyes. There was a rosy flush in her cheeks and across the soft swells of her breasts, pushed so invitingly together thanks to the bustier she wore. The little beauty mark on her cheek by her eye seemed to be an exclamation point to the warning message to be read in those dark and delicious pools that looked into his smug and arrogant face.
“Clearly you have not been to Carmella before,” she said, her accent a purr on her words, her words in reference to his stating that she was creating a scene. “The women here do not put up with much, including men with the devil in their eyes.” The feisty little thing had her back up against the wall, and yet still she dished out attitude like a cake to be served.
“What do you want, hm? You are not just a man looking to help a poor little woman with her problems, no, you are looking for something else. Perhaps it is someONE else, si?” Her head tipped to the side as she regarded him.
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Samael
Dedicated
Evolution takes time.
Roleplay posts: 222
Age: Unknown.
Physical Description: The seemingly young man before you stands at the imposing height of 5'10. There's a rich, deep complexion to his skin, and it could be considered desiresable among gossipers. However, he is not without Mara along his body, having minute scarring in various areas. It's clear by the astute that he's seen battle, and his presence is made known by the miasma of ambition that radiates off him. His body is hardened by muscle, though scouring his frame. His body is not without their imperfections, but even so, his old wounds give off the realization that he is not entirely vain.
Clothes and Equipment: Donning roguish attire, Samael can be seen cloaked in a fur jacket adorned with magical properties. Power radiates from the article of clothing, though it's easily unnoticed. Unfamiliar fabric hangs along his frame, though it seems to consistently shift about, rippling akin to water. Some say that he typically wears nothing, and dons a miasma of dark magic to cover himself appropriately. The undeniable rattling of metal emanates from him, and the source stems from a great sword that is linked together with a sinister looking chain. Both glow with dark energies at times, and it's safe to assume that they've been blessed... Or cursed by higher powers.
Player's online availability : On most of the time, most responsive in the afternoons, and evenings.
Registered: Mar 23, 2016 21:24:20 GMT -8
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Post by Samael on May 11, 2016 16:25:29 GMT -8
"The devil in my eyes, huh? Is that all you can see with those eyes of yours, because I'd like to think I'm worse than a mere devil. Perhaps I am looking for someone, but I'm quite sure I've found her...you, to be exact. Your attitude and persona grate against my own in the right way, and you're interesting enough. But I'm curious to see what's beyond that lovely body of yours...let me see your soul, and what you -really- are. We all can hide behind pretty faces, after all."
The Demonic entity continues moving upon her, though the miasma continually grinds against her protective barrier. However, it's steadily gathering around his him, and gently outlining his body as he encroaches upon her space. A hand rests against the wall, planted a few inches away from her head, and he stoops low to make eye-contact with her, provided she doesn't try to shiv him outright, or dart off. His gaze shifts downward for a moment, as if to blatantly examine her chest, before they return upward and his expression evens out.
The smile was gone, and only cold intelligence and a hint of amusement registers upon his relatively impassive features. "You're right. I'm not going out of my way to go around and help random people with their problems, I don't stoop low enough to be a servant of this...island. I'm looking for something along this island, maybe. But I'd like to take my time, with you. The question is, will you be willing to entertain me for a bit?" He drawls out, constantly pushing the boundaries...repeatedly testing her ability to not be unnerved, despite the extremely close contact.
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Deleted
Roleplay posts: 0
Registered: Nov 21, 2024 6:57:05 GMT -8
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Post by Deleted on May 11, 2016 16:54:13 GMT -8
“I’ll show you mine if you show me yours, hm?” she challenged him, her head tipped back so her thick brown curls brushed against the wall just behind her. The word didn’t seem flirtatious, however. They seemed more of a threatening nature.
After all, the man had backed her into an alley between the Parliament building and the other and was now caging her in. Perhaps there was a certain thrill to this danger, but there was a certain fear as well. She was a woman alone and caught off guard. She hadn’t had time to think of any spells, although the dagger was alive and warm in her hands.
He took his time to look at what she had on display, and when he looked at her again there was no warmth in his gaze. Only coldness. Only the truth of the heartless man whose attention she had captured.
“Lo siento,” she said to him, attitude dripping from her lush, wine-red lips, “but I do not think I am the woman for you.” And she whipped her hand from behind her back, and tried to stab him in the shoulder—her aim off from her emotions.
A woman totally threatened and caged; a woman give very little options for everything else, and this feisty little thing wasn’t going to be bullied into giving her attention to anyone. As soon as she tried to shank the man in front of her, she made to slip under his arm and run away from him.
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Samael
Dedicated
Evolution takes time.
Roleplay posts: 222
Age: Unknown.
Physical Description: The seemingly young man before you stands at the imposing height of 5'10. There's a rich, deep complexion to his skin, and it could be considered desiresable among gossipers. However, he is not without Mara along his body, having minute scarring in various areas. It's clear by the astute that he's seen battle, and his presence is made known by the miasma of ambition that radiates off him. His body is hardened by muscle, though scouring his frame. His body is not without their imperfections, but even so, his old wounds give off the realization that he is not entirely vain.
Clothes and Equipment: Donning roguish attire, Samael can be seen cloaked in a fur jacket adorned with magical properties. Power radiates from the article of clothing, though it's easily unnoticed. Unfamiliar fabric hangs along his frame, though it seems to consistently shift about, rippling akin to water. Some say that he typically wears nothing, and dons a miasma of dark magic to cover himself appropriately. The undeniable rattling of metal emanates from him, and the source stems from a great sword that is linked together with a sinister looking chain. Both glow with dark energies at times, and it's safe to assume that they've been blessed... Or cursed by higher powers.
Player's online availability : On most of the time, most responsive in the afternoons, and evenings.
Registered: Mar 23, 2016 21:24:20 GMT -8
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Post by Samael on May 11, 2016 17:05:38 GMT -8
A quick dart of those voidless eyes are cast upon her moving arm, and as the dagger came down to try piercing his flesh, he tenses up entirely. The aura that manifested around him appears to embolden, casting the metal away from his flesh as it noisily grates off, much like attempting to stab rock. The mild concentration utilized allows her to slip past him, though she would have to conduct other means of escape to truly avoid him! A smile formed upon his face, promising not-so-innocent intentions as he whirled around and extends a hand outward. His eyes were alight with a dark fire, and he slowly sauntered forward as he exudes raw power, allowing it to course along his darkened skin. She had been effectively cast into the alley-way, but would find herself running into a shrouded wall of darkness as it rose upward, cutting off the exit as it radiated depravity.
The Demonic individual continued pacing forward, though a frown begins to form, once he thinks harder on the matter. "What's the point of running away from your problems? Don't tell me that you can't handle a 'man' who knows what he wants, and is willing to take it, hmm? Come, now. I'm an individual whom is used to acquiring what he desires, surely spending a bit more time here is not so bad, no? You're welcome to try fighting me, if that's what you wish, but I do not have any intentions on harming you."
He comes to a halt, leather boots neatly planting themselves upon the pavement as he studies her intently, the shimmering wall continually writhing in place as it proves to be an effective barrier.
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Deleted
Roleplay posts: 0
Registered: Nov 21, 2024 6:57:05 GMT -8
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Post by Deleted on May 11, 2016 17:15:02 GMT -8
She had to come to a stop, her curls falling forward over her shoulders as the wall came up between her and the exit. She twisted around, her gaze slicing at the approaching man from over her shoulder. The blade she was still holding in her hand was broken, of course. Its end snapped off as it had grated against the man’s skin, sparks flying off of it as it had done so.
Jewelry jangled at her wrists and her ears as she turned to look at him, that green glow still around her boots. Haughty, defiant, she tipped her chin up as he slowly approached and she tossed the useless dagger to the side.
“You will forgive me if I do not believe you,” she snapped at him, accent sharp on her words, almost making them tingle as they rolled off her tongue. She was vibrant and vivacious, more alive than most could claim to be.
But that glow around her fingers came alive, dancing around the slender, be-ringed digits as a glowing green spectre was drawn from a pendant that hung around her neck, taking the form of a misty, corpse-like swashbuckler.
He bore his teeth at Samael, and rushed him, blade in hand to slice at Samael’s neck. The damage done would not be physical, of course, but was meant to cause pain to his soul and spirit, wounding Samael from the inside out. Likewise, the swashbuckler could not be wounded or detained by a physical means.
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Samael
Dedicated
Evolution takes time.
Roleplay posts: 222
Age: Unknown.
Physical Description: The seemingly young man before you stands at the imposing height of 5'10. There's a rich, deep complexion to his skin, and it could be considered desiresable among gossipers. However, he is not without Mara along his body, having minute scarring in various areas. It's clear by the astute that he's seen battle, and his presence is made known by the miasma of ambition that radiates off him. His body is hardened by muscle, though scouring his frame. His body is not without their imperfections, but even so, his old wounds give off the realization that he is not entirely vain.
Clothes and Equipment: Donning roguish attire, Samael can be seen cloaked in a fur jacket adorned with magical properties. Power radiates from the article of clothing, though it's easily unnoticed. Unfamiliar fabric hangs along his frame, though it seems to consistently shift about, rippling akin to water. Some say that he typically wears nothing, and dons a miasma of dark magic to cover himself appropriately. The undeniable rattling of metal emanates from him, and the source stems from a great sword that is linked together with a sinister looking chain. Both glow with dark energies at times, and it's safe to assume that they've been blessed... Or cursed by higher powers.
Player's online availability : On most of the time, most responsive in the afternoons, and evenings.
Registered: Mar 23, 2016 21:24:20 GMT -8
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Post by Samael on May 11, 2016 17:28:11 GMT -8
Samael slowly strides forward, his hands slowly sliding within the deep confines of his pockets as his eyes lock upon the ever-struggling mortal woman. She had such a fiery disposition, and a nature that refused to be easily quelled..it yearned for him to sink her to her knees, and to ensure that she did not continue such defiance before a future King. The Demonic entity looks upon her with a hint of curiosity as she doubts his words, and his head haughtily rises on its own accord, unable to hide what appears to be an expression of distaste. "I am many things, but I have no reason to lie...If I've wished you harm, I could have erected something besides a wall, no? I don't believe we're communicating too we- hm?"
He trails off as he takes note of the glowing around the woman's fingers, accentuating her features, however briefly, and the darkening alley-way in which they resided in. What emerged from it drew his eye, and he allows himself to observe such a creature as it rushes forward. It took several moments of examination, but within the time the swashbuckler reached him, he'd stride forward with a small smile. The blade swiped straight through him as he strode past it, though the effects would remain ineffective, if not outright ignored.
Were she astute, she'd realize that he was no mere man...his soul has been lost and cast off into the fiery pits of Hell along time ago, and what was left was only a stunning shadow of his former self...stronger, in some ways. "...Are you done fighting the inevitable? Give me what I want...I can do so many things for you, if you just stop fighting and come to me. You will NOT be harmed, in a way you won't enjoy. You must be confused, by now, so I'll enlighten you. My name is Samael, and I...am a Demon. A demon whom will soon be King of a circle within Hell, at that. Your name would be lovely to hear, I'm sure."
There's danger in his eyes, yet his smile appears alluring, almost sweet. An odd, if not disparaging turn of events for her.
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Deleted
Roleplay posts: 0
Registered: Nov 21, 2024 6:57:05 GMT -8
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Post by Deleted on May 12, 2016 12:53:31 GMT -8
Esperanza was indeed challenging. She was defiant, spiteful, had issues with authority, and was mad enough to spit acid, and that was all easily seen in the crackling depths of her Spanish eyes and the fire glowing in her cheeks. The swashbuckler, the infamous DREAD CAPTAIN HENRY of a century past, chuckled because Esperanza herself let out a little chiming laugh, slipping from her red, red lips, making softer, delicious parts of her bounce a little.
“Oh, I am sure you would love to hear it,” Esperanza said to him, a sultry tone in her voice as her fingers continued to dance and the enchanted circle around her booted feet continued to glow. The Dread Captain turned behind Samael and then rushed towards him again—but not to attack him, no. He had no soul – he was an empty shell. Another pair of clothes for the Dread Captain.
Whatever Samael was, he had to AT LEAST have a mortal coil to walk upon this realm, and the Voodoo Witch of Carmela had souls enough to fill it. The pendant glowed between the soft swells of her breasts, the dark glint of her eyes turned a little emerald in hue as the Dread Captain’s soul SHOVED itself into Samael’s body, filling in the space beneath Samael’s skin and hair for Esperanza to control.
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Samael
Dedicated
Evolution takes time.
Roleplay posts: 222
Age: Unknown.
Physical Description: The seemingly young man before you stands at the imposing height of 5'10. There's a rich, deep complexion to his skin, and it could be considered desiresable among gossipers. However, he is not without Mara along his body, having minute scarring in various areas. It's clear by the astute that he's seen battle, and his presence is made known by the miasma of ambition that radiates off him. His body is hardened by muscle, though scouring his frame. His body is not without their imperfections, but even so, his old wounds give off the realization that he is not entirely vain.
Clothes and Equipment: Donning roguish attire, Samael can be seen cloaked in a fur jacket adorned with magical properties. Power radiates from the article of clothing, though it's easily unnoticed. Unfamiliar fabric hangs along his frame, though it seems to consistently shift about, rippling akin to water. Some say that he typically wears nothing, and dons a miasma of dark magic to cover himself appropriately. The undeniable rattling of metal emanates from him, and the source stems from a great sword that is linked together with a sinister looking chain. Both glow with dark energies at times, and it's safe to assume that they've been blessed... Or cursed by higher powers.
Player's online availability : On most of the time, most responsive in the afternoons, and evenings.
Registered: Mar 23, 2016 21:24:20 GMT -8
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Post by Samael on May 12, 2016 13:14:30 GMT -8
Samael twitches as he finds himself being thrust forward, a foot slamming upon the ground as he finds himself attempting to be taken over! The demonic aura around him crackles violently for a moment, before his teeth grit together out of unfiltered rage. For a brief moment, she could see the hell-fire within his onyx hues, and a thick miasma expelled from his body. Possession was always a possible thing, but it was typically the Demons whom did it. It seemed to at least cause him pause, given how he had to concentrate on removin- no, he was clearly -consuming- it as insidious magic resided around him. This took time however, and the barrier around her was clearly distorting. The soul itself was being corrupted by the unholy power that resided within Samael, and a mere ghost would not be enough to turn him into a mere puppet.
The green soul quickly shifts into a red hue, before Samael glowers upon the woman, panting heavily. Clearly, he couldn't do that a lot, and it was a bit taxing on him...but now he knew what to expect, and a dangerous look becomes apparent in his eyes.
"Test me again, and I'll take you as -my- puppet, woman." He states quietly, yet his voice seems to be everywhere at once, something...older than his appearance echoing about. The aura continues to flow around him protectively, though the barrier behind her dissipates. He has to visibly calm himself, and he slowly has to rub his face.
"....Now, can you just stop testing me, before I really do intend on harming you? You're testing my limited patience, and running away is pointless." He explains, his voice returning to its attractively deep, resonating tone. He appears to dissipate into a plume of blackened smoke, before he appears behind her, hands resting upon her waist, if she didn't manage to react in time. All that would occur was pulling her toward him, in order to speak quietly.
"We may come to an agreement now, yes? I'm not here for violence, and nor am I intending on harming you..provided you comply."
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