10-29-2005, 04:49 AM
Name: Mullen.
Species: Human.
Specialties: Magic.
Age: 15 (human years)
Cock size: 5 inches.
Sheath/pouch?: No.
Height: Two metres
Eye Color: Brown
Clothes?: He'd look silly without them.
Clothes: White shirt (with sleves a few centimetres too long for him, cuffs wider than they should be), purple waistcoat, black trousers and sencible black leather shoes.
Appearance: Brown hair, nice face, pity about the dress-sence.
Personality: The personality cannot be discribed through words, only through actions.
Likes: Waistcoats, capes, hats, magic.
Dislikes: People insisting that he isn't a mage.
Weapons?: Yes.
Weapons: A black cane with a golden knob on the end.
Powers?: Yes.
Powers: Magic.
And so his story begins...
Mullen was quietly sipping a milkshake in the corner of the bar, the barman under the impression that he was good looking for his mid-thirties. It was a nice milkshake, full of bubbles and froth. It was banana flavour, and, as such, Mullen very much wanted to drink all of it.
He frowned as he chased the last little dreg in the bottom of his glass with a straw, slurping loudly. He sucked up all he could, then twisted the straw upward, slanting the extended end into his mouth, so that, perhaps, the forces of gravity might help him along his journey of total banana absorbsion. He sucked as hard as he could, and blocked the end with his finger. The straw collapsed on itself with the pressure his mouth was exerting. Then, he stopped, and put the straw back into the glass.
The last dreg fell out of the end.
Mullen stared in silence. Then, he shrugged, picked up the glass and waited for the last drop to fall into his mouth.
Then the glass was shattered by an errant arrow.
Bugger.
He stood up, and glared at the brawl at the door. He summoned every last peice of magic within him, his face turning red. Then, he pointed his wrists, hands splaid, toward the fight.
A pigeon flew out of the end of his sleave, and settled in the rafters.
Mullen waited for a few seconds. Then a few minutes, until the fight was over. His blush had just about faded, and so he picked up his cane.
He needed to ask after some treatment for his hand, for it has several shards of bar glass enbedded in the small wounds they'd made. Judging by the vampire's condition, being healed, one of them had some sort of magic to help.
"Hallo," he said to the band at large.
Species: Human.
Specialties: Magic.
Age: 15 (human years)
Cock size: 5 inches.
Sheath/pouch?: No.
Height: Two metres
Eye Color: Brown
Clothes?: He'd look silly without them.
Clothes: White shirt (with sleves a few centimetres too long for him, cuffs wider than they should be), purple waistcoat, black trousers and sencible black leather shoes.
Appearance: Brown hair, nice face, pity about the dress-sence.
Personality: The personality cannot be discribed through words, only through actions.
Likes: Waistcoats, capes, hats, magic.
Dislikes: People insisting that he isn't a mage.
Weapons?: Yes.
Weapons: A black cane with a golden knob on the end.
Powers?: Yes.
Powers: Magic.
And so his story begins...
Mullen was quietly sipping a milkshake in the corner of the bar, the barman under the impression that he was good looking for his mid-thirties. It was a nice milkshake, full of bubbles and froth. It was banana flavour, and, as such, Mullen very much wanted to drink all of it.
He frowned as he chased the last little dreg in the bottom of his glass with a straw, slurping loudly. He sucked up all he could, then twisted the straw upward, slanting the extended end into his mouth, so that, perhaps, the forces of gravity might help him along his journey of total banana absorbsion. He sucked as hard as he could, and blocked the end with his finger. The straw collapsed on itself with the pressure his mouth was exerting. Then, he stopped, and put the straw back into the glass.
The last dreg fell out of the end.
Mullen stared in silence. Then, he shrugged, picked up the glass and waited for the last drop to fall into his mouth.
Then the glass was shattered by an errant arrow.
Bugger.
He stood up, and glared at the brawl at the door. He summoned every last peice of magic within him, his face turning red. Then, he pointed his wrists, hands splaid, toward the fight.
A pigeon flew out of the end of his sleave, and settled in the rafters.
Mullen waited for a few seconds. Then a few minutes, until the fight was over. His blush had just about faded, and so he picked up his cane.
He needed to ask after some treatment for his hand, for it has several shards of bar glass enbedded in the small wounds they'd made. Judging by the vampire's condition, being healed, one of them had some sort of magic to help.
"Hallo," he said to the band at large.