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Hilarious Conversationalist
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 Posted: Wed Aug 09, 2006 1:55 pm
This is standard layout. This is basicly just the inside of a bar at a Hotel which is popular theme among Gaia now-a-days. 3nodding
Use this for your profile:PROFILE PREVIEW Name: (CHARECTER'S First and Last names)
Sex: (m/f)
Age: (in years)
Race: (human, vampire, Angel, Demon, ect)
Class: (warrior, mage, rogue, ect)
Sub-Class: (Some classes have specific abiltiy classes that're broken down, that goes here if available. If you don't have one, pick an element)
Other: (Personal Charecter Info) MEMBER LIST
Bartenders&Bar Staff:
-none-
Waitressess&employees:
-none-
Drunks / Town Drunk:
-none-
Regulars:
Pierz
Most Posted:
Pierz
Black List:
-none-
Below this are the Rules, we expect you to follow most of them, and like everywhere else, violating TOS does get you banned.THE RULES ~Follow Gaia TOS
~Keep it PG-13 and bellow
~Do NOT bump this Thread/Topic unless it's put onto the 2nd page
~Please try to be at least somewhat respectful to women, no matter how "drunk" you are.
~No bar fights unless it is agreed upon by all fighters first.
~No power gaming. Ever. There is no "ultimate vampire", or "god," class title, sorry. It just gets pointless when this isn't a normal combat RPG
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Posted: Wed Aug 09, 2006 2:41 pm
PROFILE Name: Ryox Ryo (Ryo)
Sex: MALE
Age: 14
Race: Human-Angelic
Class: Vampire Slayer
Sub-Class: Pyromancer
Other: He hunts vampires to kill the Vamprie Genesis Lord that took his little sister Nara. He vows to destroy them all with his Silver Sword and Claws-- the only things left to him by his blood-line as his birthrite.
Walking into the area covered in dirt, blood, and engine oil Ryo lazilly falls off his Motercycle against a wooden beam on the outside of the Hotel and walks in staggering for air and energy. He then flops on a sofa and sighs quietly as to not be heard by anyone else to clue his weakness.
'Note to self' Ryo begins to think, 'NEVER mix Pyromancy with Gas,' He finishes to himself shaking his boots off the side of the sofa where he was face-down at as he tries to get the mis-matching blood off his Jacket which proved only enough to smear it in further around the jacket and in deeper much to his distaste making him growl inside his mind as to not use enough strength to ACTUALLY talk.
Ryo stroles from the couch and slumps to the floor at a hopeless attempt to reach a bar stool. he sweat-drops as he effortlessly takes off his helmet and throws it carelessly behind him onto the same couch onto someone's lap. Revealed under the helmet is a Black-Amore-style of hair swaying somewhat against one of his eyes, giving his face a shaded look. He attempts to stand up but feels no strength reserved left in his legs: they are asleep and stuck dumb. He sighs as he uses his Dark Claws to stab into the floor and struggles by trying to "climb" up the floor to the stool.
When he reaches it he climbs onto it, only to fail and fall onto his back, his head hitting the floor in a slam as a small stream of thick red blood leaves the confines of his skull.He shudders as if he suddenly became cold as he thought, 'Damn, should've wore my helmet,' he thinks sweating embarrased from the looks in the room towards him.In an attempt to regain the little dignity he has left, he stands up, and almost falls down yet he stands upright, excluding one of his legs bending with a crackling noise making only his visable eye twitch like mad.
He shudders this off and sits at the stool finaly, but before almost falling off, he leans on the counter as a sort of cleaverage to keep himself mounted there.
"Two wiskies, step on it..." he says not even bothering to see if anyone listened. He then jolts and a thought breached the saftey of his head, 'If I only wanted a drink, why didn't I just ask for it from the couch!?' He thinks as he almost cries outloud at his foolishness again starting to think, 'It can't be helped now. Gaa, now I want my helmet but I can't go back over there now 'cause I'd probably kill myself getting down from here. Wait... There was someone next to me who caught it... who was it now...?' He thinks, turning his head around to the complete stranger as the two wiskies from earlier arrive on a tray behind him silently in short glass handleless cups but now ignored.
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Hilarious Conversationalist
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