The New World

[deathseal1390]

I think, most of us are waiting for friskey, i mean, he did ask us to wait. But then again, that's just what i think : P

[Ferro Cordis]

Name: Ferro A. Cordis

Race: Equestrian a rather strong bunch of upright standing, intelligent bread of horse. They are not only know for there sheer power but there leadership skills and speed. But where there is strength there is weakness, Equestrians have horrible vision at a far and sometimes even up close, making them horrible archers and there rather large size and loud hooved feet make it almost impossible to sneak around. Equestrians are intimidated easily by anything slightly taller then they are due to there horrible vision. Other then this they are very politically strong and socially friendly. There main export is high quality crafted weapons and furniture.

Age: 25

Sex: Male

Sexuality: Bi - Dom. He's not so much as a man whore as a "Crowd pleaser."

Description: Image NSFW

Spoiler

thick athletic body. He has bi colored eyes, his left being Red and his right being gold.

Measurements: 7 foot 4 inches. 200Lbs Penis: Erect, 24inchs 4 inchs thick Soft, "Sheathed"

Personality: He is rather heroic and a calm cool collected leader type. Trying his best to stay on top of every situation he is in.

Biography: Training in his home land along with his brother as soldiers Ferro, unlike his older brother, was born with the ability to use magic. This later increased Ferro's chances to becoming ranked up faster then his brother. Ferro later then became mastered in light magic and was a hardened solider with heavy armor leading him into the field of "Paladin." Ferro's Brother, Acciaio J Cordis, left his side and was never to be found till this day. . . 12 years have passed and Ferro is on the search for his brother hoping one day to fight along his side one day yet again.

(Acciaio J. Cordis will be added into this RP later on.)

[Damien]

If this rp is open may I join? I apologize for any obvious spelling or grammatical mistakes, I only ran this through spell check, I didn't bother re-reading.

Name: Liale (Lie-ah-leh)
Race: Satyr. A natural race of what appear to be creatures that are half human man half goat. Their torsos are human. The goat parts consist of everything form their waist and below. Depending on the satyr's race they can have horns, long pointed ears, and tufts of fur over certain areas of their human section that distinguishes them form other races of satyr.
Age: 84 (the equivalent of 18 years for a human)
Sex: Male
Sexuality: Bi, with a heavy preference for males... and nymphs... His is a switch, but often bottoms in a sexual relationship, by choice of course.
Description: His human half consists of slightly tanned skin covering a toned build that is on the lean side. All the angles of his face are sharp, except for the jaw line which is rather chiseled in appearance. His eyes are a piercing blue with a lace of bright green surrounding the iris, the effect from this is rather stunning and hypnotic, an effect, coupled with his nature magic, produces a rather desirable charisma about him that is akin to hypnosis. The medium length golden brown hair atop his head is often disheveled, but in a controlled wild sort of way rather than just out of general messiness. Two long curved dark brown horns that touch his shoulder blades when he looks up sprout from just beyond the hairline, the horns are far to blunt to tear anything, but strong enough to break someone's back if enough effort was put in. Because of his anatomy his body is resistant enough to handle high speed impacts, to prevent him form breaking anything when ramming into stuff. His ears are pulled out and stand at 5" long points parallel to his head. His bottom half, like all satyrs, consist of sturdy goat legs covered in long fur slightly darker than the color of the hair on his head. Along with the fur of his legs, he has a strip of fur growing along the underside of his forearms and a goatee on his chin of the same color as the fur of his legs.
Measurements: He stands at 5'8" normally, however if he stretched to his full height (since his knees legs are naturally bent to help support his differing structure compared to humans) he would stand at 5'11", although it is uncomfortable, upsets his balance, and is the equivalent of humans standing on their toes. His genitals are within a sheath that most furred mammals share, when erect his length can reach 6 and 1/2"
Personality: His personality is not unlike that of most satyrs, randy most of the time and great at parties. However he can almost always keep himself under control. Although he is a bit of a perv and he will almost never turn away an alcoholic beverage (wine being his favorite) he is also serious and stern when the situation calls for it. On a whole he is a rather pleasant person to be around and is very open about certain aspects of society many would rather not talk about in a public setting. Being easy to talk to serves another aspect of his personality. He is rather intelligent and great of talking himself out of things and information out of others, mainly his brilliance shines when he communicates with beings of another race, since many other satyrs are just as witty and cunning as he himself. He also very in tune with nature, and he doesn't become angry easily, instead remaining steadily calm or slightly annoyed. However, when he does actually becomes angry it is hard to hold him back, it is extremely hard to, since he takes most things in stride, but it does happen.
Biography: He grew up in a very religious sort of culture that focused on two gods. The god of revelry and the god of nature. The culture was also heavily dependent on that of nature and music related magicks so, in result, he has become talent with the pan flutes and manipulating various sources of nature to do his bidding. However as part the younger generation of satyrs he has began to doubt the validity of his entire religion and often outright denies their existence. In a fit of curiosity he had stolen and set sail on one of the navy's ships with a small band of like-minded satyrs. If their religion was true surely other cultures across the sea would know of their deities wouldn't they? Once shore had been reached the band had disbanded, each going their separate ways in search of answer. Since then Liale's faith in his religion has dropped until he only used his gods' names coupled with curses or exclamations. He has been traveling the land he had visited since then, with his almost hypnotic eyes coupled with his affinity with nature magic allow him to get nearly whatever he wanted from the average passerby, although he only used this gift when he had to.

[Hisoka]

Looks good you two :) I think Frisk meant that if it is still around he will join when he has time, not to actually wait for him to start it.. And in any case, where we don't know how long that will be, I'm going to say let's start now, and he can jump in later on.


IC:

Kornack lifted the hammer above his head and struck down at the glowing metal held in the vice. It was a stubborn material to work with, but that only made him that much more determined. With a sheen of sweat covering his upper torso from the intense heat of the forge, he struck again, and again. Each blow landing precisely where he intended, each blow flattening what would become the blade a little more. The rhythmic clash of his hammer caught the attention of some of those passing by, but none stopped to watch, for they knew someone else was watching, and they had no desire to draw attention to themselves.

Strong enough to turn aside a giant's blows, keen enough to cut the wind, heavy so only the strong may wield it. Kornack thought, focusing on the details of his orders so that he would not become distracted by the piercing gaze of the massive orc who stood far too close for true safety.


"My king, you should not be so close. Even the tamest slave can turn on you." the smaller of the two orcs whispered.

"So my guards have warned me. But I wish to observe this one, it may be that we will find a more suitable use for him than hauling firewood for your scrawny friends." the king growled in as close to a friendly tone as he could manage.


Kornack smiled, unsure of if they knew he could hear them or not, he was pleased to know that his strength may be needed elsewhere, and even more so that even the king's guards were wary of him. Though he had no intention of trying to escape the only life he'd ever known, the thought that one as lowly as himself could intimidate the mightiest of the orc warriors wasn't at all unpleasant.

[Damien]

OOC: ((Alright. Here is my intro post, hopefully it is good enough! XD Every post won't be this long, it's just his intro post, so it just happens to be long))

IC:

There was another pair of watching the smithing hybrid without fear of drawing attention to their-self. A satyr to be precise, relaxing within the canopy of a nearby tree which easily overlooked the forge which Kornack was currently using.
Liale let out a yawn and reclined within the bow of the tree. Oh how he loved how bark felt against his bare back. In fact he would have preferred to have no covering between his body and the world around him. Alas, the other sentient beings of the world didn't feel the same way, he found out the hard way. However conflicts regarding this issue, he had learned, were easily solved by a simple garment known as a "loincloth". That and the pouch slung around his waist also was handy for carrying around currency and simple herbs.

Liale swung out his legs and let his hooves land on the branch that was sitting on, allowing him to move into an even more relaxed position. He didn't very much orcs. They were rather stupid, the satyr mentally noted as he observed the village from his hiding place. Well, no, maybe not stupid... Just not as clever as his own race tended to be. In fact most of the sentient races he had come across had been rather dull. Those humans especially, talk about slow. You can't give them a riddle and expect it to be solved within a few minutes, instead they take hours. Honestly!

Orcs had their redeeming qualities Liale also noted. There were rather strong, and they had their shamans among them that held a higher knowledge of the magical world as a whole than the satyr. Although.... they did keep slaves...

The satyr snorted, luckily at the same time as a breeze rustled the leaves of the tree to mask the noise. Although... then again, many of the creatures he had come across practice in slaving. It was all very bizarre. There was a difference between animals and sentient beings. Neither deserved to be forced to do something they did not want to, but sentient beings especially. It must have been a power thing.

All other sentient beings were rather odd.

Thwack!

Liale sat bolt upright as the tree he had been resting in suddenly was shaken. Curiously he peered down at the base of the tree. He really hated his luck. On the ground stood a rather burly looking orc, getting ready to take another swing at the tree with the giant axe within his giant, meaty hands.

Twack!

Already half of the tree had been cut through. Jeez those orcs worked fast! At this rate just one or two more blows and the tree would topple, sending himself tumbling out of the tree as a young a kid caught with his hand in the grape vine. "Psst!" Liale called down to the orc, moving into a crouching position in the tree.

The orc looked up in surprise at the strange creature taking shelter within the branches of the tree he had been cutting down, and froze as he made eye contact.

Taking advantage of the orc's surprise the satyr leaned forward slightly within his branch, grinning down deviously at the orc. He never broke eye contact. "Why hello there," he whispered down presently to the woodcutter. Magic laced his words and, reinforced with the never breaking eye contact the orc found himself unable to look away.

"How are you? You are very strong, aren't you?" the satyr continued whispering as if to a child. His voice had taken on an almost musical quality to it, the words slipped from his tongue like liquid honey. It wasn't the words that were important so much as his tone... and the steady stream of magic mingled with the sound waves of his voice and light reflected from his eyes. "But... that axe looks rather heavy... maybe you should put it down for a little while?"

The axe fell to the ground with a thud.

"There... doesn't that feel better. Oh, your hands are rather calloused. I find that rather interesting... can I take a look?" Liale continued, stretching down a hand towards the orc. The orc reached upwards, his hand absolutely dwarfing the satyr's. Both of their fingertips briefly touched. "You look tired... maybe you should take a nap, it is rather hot today isn't it?" The scent of various types of sweet smelling flowers drifted from Liale's pelt and down towards the orc. Slowly the massive creature's lids fell halfway before closing completely. A few seconds later he collapsed against the trunk of the tree, dozing peacefully.

Liale breathed out in relief and leaned back in the tree, already his magic was mingling with the tree's, repairing the damage done to the plant by the large axe.

[Ferro Cordis]

"All aboard!!!" a loud, almost commanding voice shouted over a rustling crowd, shuffling onto the ship as Ferro stood at the harbor of his home town, hugging his loved ones good bye telling them that one day he will come back, with his brother behind him. Picking up his travel bag and readjusting his heavy plate armor on himself with his homelands army seal engraved into the breastplate to represent him being a commander. he walked onto the ship as it set sail into the new land in hopes of finding his brother.

Ferro sighed as he looked back as the ship left harbor. "Well. This shall be rather difficult." Looking about the ship, it wasn't the first stop it made, as a matter a fact it has been sailing for quite a while place to place but Ferro's plan was to get off at the first stop he made so the trip didn't consume him from his goal.

Ferro walked about the rather large ship, looking for his room until he finally found it, since the ship was tied into his homeland it gave it's high ranked military personal better benefits then anyone else he seize the opportunity and abused it, thinking it will be the last time he will be living 'comfortably.'

The large Equine drooped his bag off at the room and only took what he needed including his sword just in case. Ferro was going to be on this ship for a while so he deiced to walk around and see who was on it and what was going on, maybe he'll meet other adventures to accompany him in his travels.

[Frisk E. Coyote]

You seriously waited for me!? XD I was being comically dramatic like I usually am! Also, I meant that even after it started, I hope that there'll be a spot for me when I return! I'm kind of returning now though. So here I go!

Name: Eriden Allgrim

Race: Vamdred. Vamdred are distantly related to vampires, only, rather than being made, Vamdred are born. They live in high-classed societies and are known as “Dark Nobles” to others. They don’t live in single-race communities, but instead choose to live in small, secluded cloisters within the biggest, richest and most influential cities and towns where there are a multitude of races for them to lord over. Their natural longevity and wisdom as well as their unnatural dominance and charm have led them to positions of great power as advisors and tacticians to generals and commanders or kings and emperors. Their agile yet durable bodies and special abilities however make them an asset on the battlefield as generals and leaders, and their magical prowess and insatiable curiosity makes them valued researchers in the field of the mystic.

Socially, Vamdred are regarded by the majority of races who have heard of them with either fear or respect, usually both. In the presence of a Vamdred, other races tend to feel pressure and the uncanny need to humble themselves before them, and as a result, Vamdred are often treated like royalty, or at the very least very important people wherever they appear. It is common for Vamdred to have immense pride in their race, and thus think of other races as bellow them. There are very few races they deem equal to themselves or higher, and they refer to these races as “Highbloods”. All other races are referred to as “Lowbloods”. To further enforce their status, they carry Vamdred "Badges" sporting their family's coat of arms and show them to other cloisters of Vamdred when they are away from their home-kingdom to access special treatment and access to food, lodging and disposable wealth.

Their physical appearance is not unlike their vampire kindred, only they are not as pale or ‘beautiful’ or ‘frightening’ in appearance, their supernatural aspect being more mental than aesthetic. They carry none of the weaknesses of their vampire kindred, nor do they possess most of their strengths. Vamdred possess natural weapons like carnivorous fangs, albeit not as pronounced as a vampire’s, and hard, black talons on their fingers and toes. They are carnivores and cannot digest vegetation, and they do not require water to survive.

Ability-wise, they are naturally and supernaturally agile and their bodies and organs are durable enough to withstand these speeds. They also have a very good sense of balance and inner momentum, as well as enhanced reflexes and perception to cope with the speed. Unfortunately, this makes Vamdred quite impatient as they always perceive the world in slow-motion. Their sense of smell is also remarkable.

All Vamdred are born with an innate magical prowess, and prefer to use magic over brute force, which they find quite vulgar. Despite this, they have also developed their own form of combative arts in order to seek balance among their talents. Their unarmed combat follows a form called “Scathing Shadows”, and focuses on elegant holds, throws and reversals, using the opponent’s own blows and momentum to take them down rather than using hard strikes. When armed, they prefer more ‘elegant’ weapons like swords, daggers and pistols, rather than cumbersome and ‘vulgar’ weapons like spears, axes and bows. Their primary sword-style is called Slayer Phantasm, and it focuses on making use of their speed to slice, slash and thrust at critical areas and bypass chinks in armor, making use of feints that are so fast that their after image is left behind for a split second, where they are rendered invisible to the naked eye. Their shooting form is called “Phantom Vector”, and with it, they shoot their pistols from concealed angles, making it difficult for targets to dodge their bullets.

Vamdred are extremely photosensitive, and their skin tone darkens under the lack of light, even mere shade, while their eyes change completely, from their natural eye colors to red irises and black scleras. Their magical ability weakens as they leave the light, and under complete darkness, they cannot use magic at all. Instead, they are gifted with unbelievable speed, stealth and perfect night vision.

To compensate for their lack of brute strength and ability to forge weapons, they commission swords from various smiths and enchant them themselves. The Vamdred worship the Blood Goddess, Luviara.

Age: 30

Sex: Male

Sexuality: Has no sexual preference. Whoever can pleasure him is an acceptable partner. He is used to being the dominant partner in a relationship.

Description: [spoiler=Eriden][/spoiler] Despite his age, Lord Eriden appears to be in his middle, or at most, late teens. His shoulder length brown hair, though unkempt, is velvety smooth and clean. His nobleman’s attire is battle-worn and he keeps his weapon, an enchanted longsword named “Reclaimer” at his side at all times. He has an athletic physique, not too muscular, as he is an agile fighter rather than a powerful one. His eyes are a deep, but unremarkable brown, and his skin is pale, but like all Vamdred, his skin-tone and eyes change under shade or darkness. The change is instantaneous and quite interesting to behold. He, like all Vamdred, possesses claws and fangs as well.

Measurements: 6'0ft height, unknown weight, penile length is 7 inches erect, 4 inches flaccid, and 2 inches in diameter in girth.

Personality: Eriden was born and raised in Nobility, and acts as such. He carries an air of unnatural authority and charisma, whether walking through the halls of a palace, the slums of a marketplace, or the blood-soaked soil of a battlefield. He has made others subservient to him through a withering glare alone. He’s confident and composed, to the point where complete strangers will assume he is a very important figure and either show him respect and treat him like a special guest, or try to mug him of any valuables he may be carrying and/or kidnap him, with disastrous results for them. Eriden can be overly serious at times, but he’s not without his humor. Dark humor.

He has very strange reactions to certain words thanks to events from his childhood; “Croissant” makes him nauseous, “Archipelago” makes him scream out in a panic, and “Strawberries” arouses him. This seems to have gone beyond simple childhood trauma and crossed the threshold toward an obsessive compulsive disorder. This OCD has been with him since he was a child, and it compels him to keep himself clean and free of dirt. He is so disgusted by dirt that he would rather tear a stained sleeve off rather than wait too long to have it cleaned. The OCD also makes him a very thorough and attentive person, allowing him to analyze people, things or situations deeply and act accordingly.

Biography: Lord Eriden was tasked with hunting down a rogue Vamdred who committed an act of regicide, breaking their ancient laws and spitting on their tradition. He’s traveled a long way from home to track the villain down, leading him past borders and into Orc territory, where his quarry is rumored to be hiding. He wields a sword named “Reclaimer”, which grows stronger after each time it drains the blood from a dead body, making up for Eriden’s lack of brute physical strength with its cutting power, pushing power, and blocking power.

~ ~ ~

Name: Gulbrandr

Race: Son of Fenrir. Sons of Fenrir are bipedal wolf-creatures who are said to have descended from the spilled blood of the god-devouring wolf, Fenrisulfr. They are an ancient and powerful, but very rare race of warriors tasked with the harrowing deed of killing wayward gods and demi-gods who walk the path of destruction. The Sons of Fenrir live in the treacherous and perpetually snowy mountains known as Ulfrheim, a barren wasteland of ice, trees and snow, said to be unlivable except for great magical beasts and these mythical wolves. They all possess amazing eyes known to strike fear in their quarries with a piercing glare, earning them title of "Dragon-Eyed Hunters".

The Sons of Fenrir are a warrior race, and hold strength and fighting skill above all. Young Sons are taught how to fight and kill before they are taught how to talk. They live off the land and have no use for money. They are, curiously, an all-male race, and new Sons are more made than they are born. Sons on quests or Sons who have reached the ripe breeding age leave Ulfrheim and seek females of other races, who they will then bring home. Power, personality and fighting ability are considered more attractive than appearance, social class or wealth. If the females agree to go home with them, and survive the treacherous journey back to the heart of Ulfrheim, they will be bred, and carry the child for five months.

For the child to be born, the female must go through a ritual involving the crystalized blood of the ancient wolf, Fenrisulfr, or the child will die during birth. An infant Son of Fenrir will take his mother’s life in exchange for his, ensuring that he has been born into the world by taking his first life. This ritual and method of birth makes it very difficult for the race to repopulate, but it grants them a number of gifts; they are naturally very strong and fast, born with durable bodies and keen senses, as well as the ability to learn things quickly. They are also born unable to use magic. Instead, their bodies nullify and absorb the ambient mana around them, granting them nearly endless stamina and vitality, allowing them to fight or travel without tiring for days, and for their wounds to heal at an accelerated rate. This also means that they are largely immune to magic, and grow stronger in the presence of gods or demi-gods, making them the perfect god slayers. In exchange for this, Sons of Fenrir have a very low lifespan; about fifty years maximum.

Sons of Fenrir have developed many fighting styles to combat powerful beings, using all forms of weapons from bladed and piercing weapons, to blunt and whipping weapons. Even arrows are used, but never firearms it seems. They are skilled weapon-smiths and use enchanted metal mined from the mystic mountains mixed with their blood to forge their personalized weapons. Their blood is special and allows them to “imprint” on weapons or people and mark them as “theirs”. This ensures that the weapons will always return to them if dropped, and people will never be lost. The fighting style they use against gods and mortals alike is called Götterdämmerung (quite a mouthful), and has been described as “An unspeakable and terrifying symphony of divine massacre and indescribable beauty.” by the few who have witnessed it in action.

The Sons of Fenrir worship Fenrisulfr, the “first wolf” and devourer of gods.

Age: 20

Sex: Explicitly Male

Sexuality: Has no concept of sexuality and is pretty much still a virgin. He is easily manipulated as he is very honest about his feelings.

Description:

[spoiler=Gul][/spoiler] Gulbrandr is a tall, muscular, bipedal lupine creature with piercing golden eyes and thick, gray fur. His winter coat is thick and hides most of his muscle definition, and covers his neck and back with thick, fluffy mane of gray fur. His summer coat is thinner, and he loses his mane, exposing his neck and shoulders more, as well as his impressive muscle definition. He dresses in leather straps and clothes as to not hinder his movement, finding armor to be cowardly and cumbersome. He wears both his swords, both unnamed, on his back. He appears to be more animalistic than other animal-like races. He also carries a large leather rucksack for supplies.

Measurements: 7’0ft flat, unknown weight, 7 inches flaccid, 12 inches erect, 4 inch diameter girth.

Personality: Gul is very blunt and honest. He can be naïve and easily fooled as he is quite animalistic in terms of actions and behavior. He is disciplined, loyal to comrades, brave and fearless, but tends to act rash or impulsively. He is very curious as he has never left his homeland, Ulfrheim, and is easily impressed and amused by traditions and innovations from the rest of the world. He is a fierce and frightening force to be reckoned with in battle, but otherwise approachable and docile when out of it. He has a very strict code of honor, like other Sons of Fenrir, and will neither attack anyone on the ground, or from behind. He will refuse to draw his weapons unless he deems his opponents worthy of their blades.

Gul can be aggressive and answers many things with violence as he was brought up on violence and a fight for survival, but he does not get angry very easily as anger is considered a handicap in battle. Having been trained in the art of combat from birth, he is practically illiterate, having only been taught how to count in his later years, how to value money, and how to read maps. He is a virgin, but does not know how to respond to seduction or arousal. Being blunt and honest, he may respond with violence, or even rape if seduced or aroused the wrong way. He absolutely hates it when his tail is pulled, as his tail is an erogenous zone that gets more sensitive closer to the base of it, the tip being the least sensitive. When given permission, he enjoys it being stroked. He does not respond well to touch as he associates all forms of contact with conflict, but if approached correctly, he enjoys being stroked, scratched and petted just like any dog would.

He is not used to cultures and traditions outside of his own, so despite putting a high priority on his missions, he tries to learn about the outside world more, as he finds it fascinating. One could consider him a barbarian if he did not have his code of honor.

Biography: Gulbrandr is an unremarkable Son of Fenrir, just another warrior on a quest to kill a wayward god causing misery and strife; Shura, “The Raging Storm”. His quest has led him from Ulfrheim to wherever he can find news of Shura, armed only with his special swords, as he specializes in bladed weapons. He is collecting powerful weapons he can imprint on to help aid him in battle.



And here are my profiles! I apologize for the length of my profiles- I tend to go overboard that way- but if they're okay, I'll edit my introduction post in, or post one!

[Hisoka]

OOC: Looks good to me :)

IC:

Kornack showed no signs of tiring, so caught up in the forging process that he had forgotten to eat, or that he may need rest during the process. After a few more blows the weapon was finally taking shape. The handle portion of the weapon was nearly six feet in length with a hook on the far end. The head of the weapon looked to be taking on the shape of an axe. As he struck the metal repeatedly, Kornack had begun singing, softly at first, but picking up in volume. None present would understand the words, nor could Kornack, even if he had been thinking clearly, remember hearing anything like them before. Though the words had a gentle ring to them, his deep voice lent a somewhat harsh quality to them.

"How long can he continue like this?" the Orc king demanded.

"I do not know.. I expected this to take him several days, but at the rate he is going... He may finish before sundown." Kornack's master replied.

As the sun is setting... the small part of Kornack's mind not entirely absorbed in the task at hand said to him. He paused only to get a drink of water while reheating the metal, then renewed his attack, forcing the stubborn material to yield to his will.



Meanwhile, another of the orcs had left the camp to begin searching for "That lazy son of a whore!" as he called the young wood cutter.

[Damien]

Liale's pointed ears perked. A string of curses never escaped a satyr's hearing and this was no acception. He yawned and sat up, rousing himself from the nap he had decided to take. Groggily he peered through the leaves to see where the scource of the cursing was coming from. Wonderful, another Orc in search of the first that he put to sleep. The satyr stood on the branch and shook himself. It'd be no use trying to put a second to sleep, especially considering he himself just woke up from a nap, his mana manipulation was never good when he just work up. The best thing to do would be to run. A little less than nimbly he leap from the branch and onto the ground, creating a rather loud thud.

He really should have looked before he leapt. He had realized that the cursing orc had been so close, in fact he had landed right in front of the creature. Liale blinked slowly, his mind taking a few moments to register his current situation. "...."

Then without warning he turned around and bolted. His speed was rather astonishing, his image had actually blurred when he ran. Overall the entire effect would have been more effective if he hadnt run head first into a tree. A large crash, followed by a pained bleat and ended with a dull thud all happened within a few seconds. Liale lay in a daze at the base of a tree not more than ten feet away from the Orc. He really hated waking up and rushing out of bed. Luckily due to his amazing skeletal structure nothing broke. So instead of laying on the ground and screaming about a broken arm he had stuccoed to his feet and swayed unsteadily. Usually he prepared for impacts when ramming things, however at the moment he had planned to run into that dastardly tree so his attic was rather jarred. So there he was, a half-asleep satyr, staggering around as if he were drunk as he attempted to get the world to stop spinning.

[deathseal1390]

Hearing the comation of thuds, bumps and other noises. Following the constant yelling of yet anthor orc near her set up. Katherine lookied out of one of the windows. Being set up here she had alot of customers who were "tired" and overworked. Perfect for a brothel. When she looked out of the window all she saw was a drunk looking satytr, she grinned lightly and shouted to the to no genneral directing "SAMTHA! run the desk for me while i go get a new "guest."

Shortly after she opened the door, dressed in a full domamatrix outfit and her whip attatched to her hip she walked out hopeing to stop the suposed drunk, standing in what she hoped would be his path. Taking a suductive pose hopeing to draw their attention.