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 Posted: Wed Jul 21, 2010 1:54 am
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Posted: Fri Jul 23, 2010 12:16 am
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Posted: Fri Jul 23, 2010 12:23 am
Kirkis Bloodfire ◄ ◄ ◄ cideon (occasionally the Kirkis Bloodfire mule)   xxxxxx[ ȶ | ћ | e | Ɍ | u | ɗ | ɨ | ɱ | e | n | ȶ | s ]... N a m e : Kirkis Bloodfire S p e c i e s : human; more specifically a phantom G e n d e r : Male A g e : used to be about 24; has been around for maybe 100-200 years H e i g h t : 5'10" W e i g h t : 150 lbsE y e s : A rich jade-like shade.
S k i n T o n e : average light, lighter than a fair tan. Hard to tan when you’re dead. S e x : prefers not to be reminded of what he’s missing out on B u i l d : Slim with toned muscles, but nothing bulging unless he flexes. He’s a civilised butler, he doesn't need muscles. Only a lot of dexterity. O t h e r N o t a b l e F e a t u r e s : Kirkis remains handsome in death, looking just like he did when he was alive except for his bloodletting eyes and a dehiscenced chest wound. The eyes are hidden by his red hair, mainly the bangs, which move about easily with his movements, but never seem to let you have a peek at his eyes behind them (unless he wants to show you). As a ghost, he has several abilities that function almost like powers, but are inherent of his "species". He usually appears and feels real, but he can fade away, becoming much like a mist, and then nothing. As such, he can travel through almost all of the castle, and up to a mile away from the castle grounds (with Veritas' permission, he could theoretically go anywhere in the castle, and even beyond this kingdom; has not been tested yet). Able to move things around with a thought, and do creepy ghost voice plus flicker candles and other dramatic lighting. His presence (unannounced) may sometimes be indicated by a cold feeling in a room, but he has gotten better at hiding it, usually. As his visual representation is only a mirror of his soul, he can be dressed in anything he has a mind to. xxxxxx[ ȶ | ћ | e | Ρ | σ | s | ɨ | ȶ | ɨ | σ | n ]... K i n g d o m : Veritas (has lived in every other kingdom when he was alive) C l a s s : servant (to a god) O c c u p a t i o n : butler (head of staff) A l l i e s : Sara Bellerose, Ryan Riley, possibly Veritas (is he really on anyone’s side though?) E n e m i e s : Disruptive guests annoy him, but it’s doubtful any want to harm him. Claus is a close contender for the position, however.xxxxxx[ ȶ | ћ | e | H | ɨ | s | ȶ | σ | r | ӌ ]... H i s t o r y : Kirkis was an average young man with grand dreams of becoming a knight. As he had no male parentage though, he was declared unfit for duty. He instead became a jack of all trades, and traveled and lived in every Kingdom. He had gained admittance to the Kingdom of the god Veritas, but he was attacked on his journey by a highwayman, and killed. His sheer force of will (perhaps influenced by the god) allowed his spectre to remain on the mortal plane, and he was able to meet his 'employer'. He was given the task of being the castle's butler, which generally consists of being caretaker of all routine tasks including housekeeping, cooking, entertainment, stocking, etc. The fact that he is dead does not seem to be a problem as this means he can actually work all day and all night to ensure things get done. P e r s o n a l i t y : Kirkis is a friendly fellow, eager to help. He doesn’t often take his guests’ insults personally, knowing he and the mixed staff (from several kingdoms) are doing the best they can. He will take offense to an insult or mistreatment of another servant, and be quick to either defend, or at least distract. A bit distracted himself at time with all his duties, but he does take the time to relax in his completely sealed room that mainly only he can enter. L i k e s : The polite guests. Servants who aren't lazy (don't have to be workaholics though, he understands people need breaks). Being able to make a grumpy guest smile. D i s l i k e s : People who are cruel for no reason, or something pathetic as their own amusement. Very arrogant people.xxxxxx[ ȶ | ћ | e | A | ɗ | ɗ | ɨ | ȶ | ɨ | σ | n | s ]... P o w e r : His touch is that of death itself, in a sense. His bare touch will feel icy cold to anyone else, even through clothing. He 'wears' his white gloves to help alleviate this somewhat. As a result, he cannot touch food plates, or food/drink itself for very long without causing it to rot. To assist him, he not only moves quickly (with his quick "here and gone" abilities) in the dining hall when helping to serve dinner, but makes full use of the silver platters to help protect the food items.]xxxxxxxxxx P o w e r S t r e n g t h s : Can focus and make his cold touch feel so cold it might paralyze someone (not so much magically, but because it comes as a shock to someone). In very rare cases, severe frostbite might even occur. ]xxxxxxxxxx P o w e r W e a k n e s s e s : Uses a lot of energy of his to strengthen it, from which he needs to actually rest in his room to regain (or be 'powered up' by Veritas). ]xxxxxxxxxx P o w e r M a s t e r y : 9 W e a p o n s : No weapon in particular. If he wants to hit someone, he could, but doesn't know any real methods of fighting. Just a slap or something perhaps. Would rather use his power to unsettle someone than actually hurt them. 
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Posted: Fri Jul 23, 2010 12:25 am
SOKAR STORMWIND ◄ ◄ ◄ cideonxxxxxxxxxxxx  xxxxxx[ ȶ | ћ | e | Ɍ | u | ɗ | ɨ | ɱ | e | n | ȶ | s ]...
N a m e : Sokar Stormwind
S p e c i e s : Northern wolf - werehuman
G e n d e r : Male
A g e : 32 (human year equivalency)
H e i g h t : (in order of wolf, werehuman, and human) 4'6" | 6'0" | 6'4"
W e i g h t : 135 lbs | 200 lbs | 250 lbs
E y e s : Yellow
S k i n T o n e : Gray/black/white fur; tanned skin
S e x : Straight
B u i l d : Muscular in wolf and werehuman forms, extra buff in human shape
O t h e r N o t a b l e F e a t u r e s : Small teeth scars all over his shoulders. Larger scar over his left cheek, in any form.
xxxxxx[ ȶ | ћ | e | Ρ | σ | s | ɨ | ȶ | ɨ | σ | n ]...
K i n g d o m : Veritas, formerly lived in both Justice and Wrath
C l a s s : servant (formerly soldier)
O c c u p a t i o n : Head Gardener (formerly knight)
A l l i e s : Lorelei Gavini, Lucas Masterson, Evony Wood, Corrine Masterson. Also anyone from his group in the Catacombs, or the demon-hunting party led by Jack.
E n e m i e s : He assumes anyone from Wrath or Justice might be out to get him.
xxxxxx[ ȶ | ћ | e | H | ɨ | s | ȶ | σ | r | ӌ ]...
H i s t o r y : A werewolf is termed as a creature who is human and can become wolflike under duress. A werehuman is one that is a wolf who can become more humanlike under similar circumstances. Sokar was born to a wolf mother and lived most of his young life as one, but was cursed and tried to live as a human (despite having strong animalistic features). As a citizen of the Kingdom of Justice, he tried to learn how to be a knight. Eventually, he was ridiculed and kicked out in his later teen years. Feeling hatred for this, he emigrated to the Kingdom of Wrath, where his nature was welcome. However, there was too much cruelty that his true side (the wolf) could not endure. Rather than end his own life, he found a sanctuary here with Veritas. He keeps the flowers alive and is safe from reprisal from both Justice and Wrath (both of which would love to seem him dead because he knows of their training). He's a quiet sort, never having gotten good or comfortable with speaking, and sometimes he is slow to understand human concepts. Often appears neutral though he may be severely pissed or happy on the inside because wolf body language is different than that of humans. He speaks in broken sentences because he had to learn a verbal language in his teenage years. His accent is a mix of Justice, Wrath, and his own rough-voiced speech.
P e r s o n a l i t y : Sokar is a gruff individual who finds himself often confused (and judgemental) of human customs. He is a bit biased on wolves being better and smarter creatures than humans, but he has accepted his fate as a member of this "pack". He is patient with young persons, and would never harm one. He is rather protective of females, not because he thinks them weaker than him, but it feels "natural" to do so, because so much of a male's life is devoted to getting and keeping one, that they seem very valuable.
L i k e s : His gardens, so much as to take a quiet pride in them. Enjoys meat he's hunted, but is developing a taste for human food that sometimes the servants share with him. Hunting and running in general. Quiet. People who respect his work and the gardens themselves.
D i s l i k e s : Loud people. People thinking they're superior to wolves. His curse. Thorns in his paws.
xxxxxx[ ȶ | ћ | e | A | ɗ | ɗ | ɨ | ȶ | ɨ | σ | n | s ]...
P o w e r : Because of his curse, he can change his shape to that of a werehuman, a mix of beast and man.
]xxxxxxxxxx P o w e r S t r e n g t h s : Besides the ability of speech, he also gains more human-like joints and hands. Does not lose much of his wolf senses (such as hearing and smell).
]xxxxxxxxxx P o w e r W e a k n e s s e s : The transformation is a very painful one, as he has to feel his bones and tendons reshape themselves, whilst muscle and connective tissue pull and stretch. Not an instant power, it take a minute at least.
]xxxxxxxxxx P o w e r M a s t e r y : 7
P o w e r : As a natural creature with now with a human curiosity to learn about everything without wanting to, Sokar realized he can feel general emotions from his plants. Not any one plant in specific, except for large ones like trees and large hedges. But he can sense if they are infected with a disease, under attack from bugs, content with his care, etc. It assists in his duties, though he does not realize just how sentient they truly are.
]xxxxxxxxxx P o w e r S t r e n g t h s : Sokar does not have to concentrate, he can sense the emotions of the flora like a person can hear their friend talking as soon as the message leaves their lips.
]xxxxxxxxxx P o w e r W e a k n e s s e s : While the gardener can concentrate to try to figure out details, it's not a perfect skill, and he does not have a clue on how to communicate back (he may pat a tree, but has no real way to know if they even acknowledge it).
]xxxxxxxxxx P o w e r M a s t e r y : 5
W e a p o n s : Formerly a longsword which he keeps in his shack, nowadays a shovel or his teeth if he needs to shoo away garden pests, or hunt for extra food.
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Posted: Fri Jul 23, 2010 12:27 am
Claus Revelle ◄ ◄ ◄ Aeon-of-Eclipse xxxxxxxxxxxx  xxxxxx
However, the warlock didn't really place a spell on him: he was actually performing a sealing ritual! Before Claus realized what he was doing, the warlock sealed the entertainer in a theatrical mask. It turns out, the warlock was insane, and in his delusions, trapped Claus so that he could 'never be alone again'. Claus would be trapped in this mask for many years, sitting on the warlock's shelf as the mask collected dust and the warlock began to lose more of his mind.
No record remains of what happened in that time, but after several decades, a masked man emerged from the warlock's cottage, bearing the same mask that Claus had been imprisoned in. The man was Claus himself, but was...changed. He was somehow released from the mask, bearing magical powers and talents. His goal had also slightly changed: he already believed that he was the greatest artistic talent alive, but now, all he really wanted was an audience. He had heard rumors of a God, Veritas, who was bored half of the time. In short time, he had not only found Veritas, but became Veritas' royal jester from then on.
This was were he belonged now. P e r s o n a l i t y : Being encased in a magical mask for several years took it's toll on Claus' formal personality. Before, he had rational goals and somewhat polite mannerisms. Now, his goals are somewhat farfetched and his politeness is earned only in very small amounts; the rest of the time, he's spent having fun and cracking jokes. He takes his role as a jester to heart, being careless and somewhat detached from the gravity of situations he's found himself in before, even to the point of not flinching at death. However, despite all of his jester antics, something dark lies beneath his mask, and questions resulting from what he endured during his imprisonment in the mask have arose. L i k e s : Fun, Jokes, Royals (joke material right there), audience members, carnival settings, Art, Allowing his ideas to materialize D i s l i k e s : Official royal business, being ridiculed for his appearance, dirty areas, sadness, ants xxxxxx[ ȶ | ћ | e | A | ɗ | ɗ | ɨ | ȶ | ɨ | σ | n | s ]... P o w e r : The power of sensory illusion. ]xxxxxxxxxx P o w e r S t r e n g t h s : Claus illusion mastery is something to be commended. While one is under it's effects, their senses become manipulated to make the victim believe that the illusion is real. He can make people smell flowers when they aren't really there, or make people witness a murder when there wasn't really one, or hear the cries of a woman when there is none near, or feel the sensation of a thousand bugs crawling on one's skin when not a single one is present. It is so real, that he can make one believe that they have suffered an injury such as a stab wound or a broken bone if he wanted to. ]xxxxxxxxxx P o w e r W e a k n e s s e s : As strong as his illusion power is, he has not overcome one rather large flaw: he cannot manipulate the sense of taste at all. Though in some cases this isn't necessary, some of his illusions can be broken if one tastes something that was not a part of it. Also, his illusions can be broken when the user feels actual pain, rather than the fake sensation of pain Claus can inflict. His powers also have a radius effect: his illusions can only reach an area of about 25 yards radius around him. ]xxxxxxxxxx P o w e r M a s t e r y : 9 - near god, very few mistakes W e a p o n s : A polished white crook, a tool sometimes used in theater. He also carries a deck of tarot cards that can function as throwing weapons.
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Posted: Tue Sep 28, 2010 10:24 pm
Apollo "Saint" Atlus - Royal Shield - Reserved
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Posted: Wed Nov 24, 2010 7:56 am
Indigo Xakstrazi Orizanko ◄ ◄ ◄ S i n k o t s u xxxxxxxxxxxx  xxxxxx[ ȶ | ћ | e | Ɍ | u | ɗ | ɨ | ɱ | e | n | ȶ | s ]... N a m e : Indigo Xakstrazi OrizankoS p e c i e s : Astral Walker; "Take my word for it though friend; given the opportunity, they'd no sooner claim me as one of their own than they'd face me in battle once more." G e n d e r : Male; "In all the worlds I've been to, I notice the women are more oft than not, rather iritiable and, frankly, quite bitchy. I s'pose I should count myself lucky I was born a man." A g e : 1,336; "And thankfully, I have yet to hit the 'ow, my hip' and 'turn that music down' stage."H e i g h t : Six feetW e i g h t : One hundred thirty-three poundsE y e s : One blue, the other green; "Much to my dismay, this is one of my less noticed features, what with the wings and draconic companion and all."S k i n T o n e : Slightly tan; "Strangely so, considering the place I once called home was in the depths of a cave..." S e x : Straight; "It doesn't count if I experimented a bit a few hundred years ago, right?" B u i l d : Muscular, not overly so O t h e r N o t a b l e F e a t u r e s : Much to the Astral's occasional bliss, there are many things that can set him apart from a crowd. Whether it be his wings, which are prone to the occasional change of colour (normally at the worst possible time), or his eyes, each different in hue. Of the more subtle and hidden are his numerous scars littering his chest and back, relics or mementos from his siege on Kahlimgrad as well as various other tales left only to the Astral's memory. Of the less subtle things observed about Indigo would be his companion; an Iron-bound drake of Bahamut's Sky Brood. xxxxxx[ ȶ | ћ | e | Ρ | σ | s | ɨ | ȶ | ɨ | σ | n ]... K i n g d o m : None; "Kingdom? Funny story about what happened to the last man who claimed lordship over me..." C l a s s : Dragoon; "I've always been fond of the title. Fancy that, I end up with Bahamut's Tear in one hand and Alehstrasza's reins in the other..." O c c u p a t i o n : Blacksmith "My plate-mail brings all the boys to the yard?" A l l i e s : ۞Alehstrasza E n e m i e s : ۞Xard
۞Other Astral Walkers xxxxxx[ ȶ | ћ | e | H | ɨ | s | ȶ | σ | r | ӌ ]... H i s t o r y : Born into a distinguished bloodline, Indigo is of a rare and dying breed. Astral Walkers were, by nature, immortal, but spread few and far between the countless Realms. Time, coupled with war and their abilities, have ravaged what was a once great and noble race, dwindling their numbers and scattering them through the reaches of creation. Throughout the time he spent with his people, he was constantly pressured to help breathe life back to their race. However, being the trickster he is, he would always find a way to weasel out of it, something he would later be glad of.
The first three hundred years of his life, he was, as all others, considered nothing more than a new born, and as such, his life consisted of a constant influx of knowledge. Life in general was not much more than meditation in the citadels, schooling in countless subjects, covering only what was essentially the basics as well as the Astral's famed "One against a Thousand" training mentality to turn an Astral into a one-man army. Around his four hundredth birthday, all the meditating, schooling and training he recieved culminated; he finally took to his calling and set out from his home, his family, and his friends. Invigorated with a newfound sense of pride in being able to call himself an Astral Walker, he carried only the bare essentials as he began searching through the entrity of existence, all if it meant he could return his people to the glory they once held. Through hundreds of years and trials untold, he searched and wandered, wearing himself down greatly in the process. He had stumbled upon pockets of Astrals, but was aghast to find themselves so radically different, as though another race of beings entirely. Tales told by the oldest amongst the Astrals he encountered regailed a shattering revelation; everything he was taught about his people was nothing more than an illusionary lie, all devised to keep him blind from the truth of what his people had become.
Xakstrazi, still recoiling from the revelation, spent the better part of a decade wandering with no real purpose, walking simply out of habit, no goal or destination, as though his soul had been ripped in twine. As he overcame this however, he found himself impassioned with one true absolute, one all-consuming mission for his life; to topple their tower of cards, to bring everything, all the lies they weaved and all that majesty lost, he was going to bring it all down on their heads. Ill-equipped with nothing more than a burning passion and his Avatar however, he set out once more, this time in search of the proper tools for his undertaking. Besting a self-proclaimed God named Bahamut, he earned himself the rights to fly on the wings of an iron-bound drake, as well as a tooth and scale from the God, which he used in the forging of Bahamut's Tear, a spear with special abilites that dwarf that of even the once legendary Lance of Hastata. Another fifty years were dedicated to hunting down a God that was widely feared amongst even the Astrals, Sceith. In an abandonned realm, accessible only under the right conditions, he discovered the Lost God's forbidden sanctum, greeted by the unmistakable wails of a tortured soul. Approaching the broken throne, his eyes beheld the God, nailed to his throne by a sword that pierced his chest. Hearing the God's tale, it was almost cautionary in it's essence, reminiscent of his own and what he'd hoped to accomplish. Considering it his duty to grant peace to such an eternally tortured soul, he grasped the sword that kept this God bound and constrained as some form of sick penance. The God let a genuine smile cross his weary face, scared with time. The last words he spoke were those of a lost knowledge, entrusting it with the Astral. As Indigo drew the blade from his chest, the tortured God was released to death, and he found himself armed and prepared to die in the hope of cutting the festering infection that had found it's way into his race.
Clad in light-plate mail, his appearance nothing like when he set out, Indigo returned to Kahlimgrad a warrior, intent only on writing the final chapter of the Astral Walkers as everyone knew. In spite of the prepared celebration of his return, the Dragoon began to lay siege to his former home. Through blood and steel, he tore through anyone who stood in his way, be they friend or family, with a fierce blood lust that was rivaled only by his desire to end the life of the one who created what the Astrals had become. As his emotions raged and swarmed, overtaking his senses, he found himself activating his Avatar Form, filling him with a level of skill advanced beyond whatever the Astrals had seen up to that point. Despite his battered and bloodied appearance, Indigo entered the chambers of the Lord of the Astrals. Blood slowly trickling from the wounds that littered his body and a look of a beast in his eyes, he raised Bahamut's Tear. The look of shock as his spear pierced the resident leader of the Astrals was engraved on his mind that day. As their God-king bled out in front of him, Xakstrazi simply watched with eyes full of a righteous judgment long overdue. Dropping out of his Avatar state, he summoned what strength he had left and waved his hand over the fresh corpse, opening up a Slipgate to a world unknown. Using his spear as a walking stick, he forced himself through the portal and began his new life, always running, always watching. P e r s o n a l i t y : Indigo is very much a wild-card, a sort of Joker in a deck of cards. Given his history, it's nigh-impossible to tell what the man's actual motives are anymore, although most would easily assume them to be intent to bed a woman. When he's not "chasing women across the reaches of Creation", as Alehstrasza put it, the Astral is often described as an out-going madman. Those who know him as well of the Break Arts lament the fact that his title surpassed that of Riskbreaker, as Xakstraszi is known to "free-ball" a situation, regardless of the risks or dangers involved. He is a determined man, despite having lived through over thirteen hundred years of everything from failure to success that couldn't have been accomplished by anyone that wasn't as crazy as he was. L i k e s : Having lived for over a thousand years, Indigo has been blessed with, if nothing else, ample time to figure everything out at whatever pace he so chooses. During his time, he has been notably fond of the "bedroom arts" as he calls them, as well as those of the female persuasion. While most misunderstand and assume him to be nothing more than some sex-hungry chauvanist, he enjoys a woman's company less so for her body and what she can do with it than he does for comapnionship. Given the opportunity, the Astral finds great pleasure in being able to open someone's eyes from the small world they know; to be able to perform one act and paint an infinite horizon for them to see for the rest of their lives, wherever they look, knowing that there is so much more than what they thought. Ever the prankster, however, Indigo has developed a sense and flair for both the thematic and dramatic and takes great pride in the occasional over-developed plan, so convoluted and complicated, so grandoise that even the smallest mistake on the micro or macro level would send the entire scheme tumbling into oblivioun. Hand-in-hand with this is a noted enjoyment in seeing his plan succeed against the odds. Oh, and he enjoys Pina Colatas and getting caught in the rain, as well as the occasional long walk on the beach. D i s l i k e s : While the gift of eternity has given him an infinite supply of time for whatever uses he might come up with for it, it is as much a curse as it is a blessing. Things like life and love are fleeting, almost alien to him, his sense of what they used to be dulled by the unforgiving sands of time. It is true he still pursues companionship, but through past experience it has become abundantly clear that love is something he can never have anymore. For this, he has his lineage mostly to blame. "Hate" is another word that is lost on the timeless man. Over the years, in his childhood, it could be said that he hated some things. However, as both his age and perspective grew, he soon found hate to be all but completely eliminated from his life. The passion it brought about however, the flame that could be fanned from hatred, was brought to life once more upon the revelation of what the Astral Walkers had become and what they would do. Along with the hatred he bares for his people, it could also be said that he has moderate disdain for those who revel in the pain of others. On the lighter scale of dislikes lies the seemingly omni-present (after 1,300 years, at least) "holier-than-thou-art" attitude found in nobility and royalty alike. There was perhaps a time he was proud of his heritage and blood-line, but that time is long past, as well as any traces of such attitude.xxxxxx[ ȶ | ћ | e | A | ɗ | ɗ | ɨ | ȶ | ɨ | σ | n | s ]... P o w e r : Avatar State]xxxxxxxxxx P o w e r S t r e n g t h s : During crucial moments in Indigo's life, whether it is life and death or when his emotions reach a critical point, he loses control and, for however long the Avatar State lasts, loses himself. When he enters this stage, his physical appearance changes and his body pushes itself to critical levels, giving him tremendous boosts in his speed, reaction time, and strength. His abilities, while normally formidible at the minimum, are turned at least ten-fold to ensure he lives as long as the State is active. ]xxxxxxxxxx P o w e r W e a k n e s s e s : As previously stated, while the Avatar is in control, Indigo is all but completely lost, leaving himself with only the bare-minimum spatial awareness. Most distinction between friend and foe is suspended, and the Astral's instincts take over. As the State unlocks his body's full potential, it is naturally dangerous for him to stay in the Avatar State for long without risking the Astral Walker's genetic curse of rapid-muscle degeneration, as well as tearing his muscles irrepairably from the sheer stress placed on them. As such, once he drops out of the Avatar State, he will fall comatose while his body recouperates, only rarely holding onto lingering shreds of consciousness to hide himself well enough or make good an escape. While his Avatar state is more or less a glorified, over-developed fight or flight response from the body, he is just as mortal as ever, sans the ability to dish out and take more of a hit, at least.]xxxxxxxxxx P o w e r M a s t e r y : 8
While he was taught early on in his life that he should never seek to activate his Avatar State, that, as with the warnings of the Ars Arcanum, were ignored in favor of bettering himself in every way possible. Decades after his Assault of Kahlimgrad, he began the slow and arduous task of training himself to better maintain his Avatar. Following that, he then spent a century or so trying to attain some form of sentience while his Avatar was active. However, as with the ability to remain conscious after the Avatar, this was a skill that was mostly lost on him, likely one facet that was simply uncontrollable. P o w e r : Dimensional travel]xxxxxxxxxx P o w e r S t r e n g t h s : Often in Indigo's life, he has found himself facing the business ends of many varieties of weaponry. Whether this is because of his habbits, personality, or just because he dressed funny, he would find himself backed into a corner, facing those who had no reason to die- by his hands, at least. Given only a moment's notice, he can make good his escape through the use of a Slipgate, an old art passed down in the Astral Walker's society. It is through the use of a Slipgate that they even earned their title; Astral Walker. As such, his being able to "portal the hell out of Dodge" is one such ability he uses liberally. On the upshot to this however, their form of dimensional travel requires flight, lest the traveler end up in one of the many Dead Zones between realms. As such, evolution has gifted him with wings, which is "pretty damn awesome" as Indigo has said many times in the past.]xxxxxxxxxx P o w e r W e a k n e s s e s : "Out of the frying pan and onto the sun" is a phrase that is sometimes thrown around by the Astral and his companion. Apparently, it wasn't just enough for life that creating a Slipgate is a taxing enough task, often leaving him vulnerable and somewhat drained for a day or so, but to add insult to injury, there is always a slim chance that things will go terribly awry. An escape made good can turn into the "Oh, s**t" of the century within seconds if luck decides against the Astral. Slipgates, as with dimensional travel as a whole, weren't an exact science (see: piss-shoot), which has caused many a vulgarity to spill forth from the otherwise placid Dragoon.]xxxxxxxxxx P o w e r M a s t e r y : 10
"Over a thousand years using the damned things, I'd be right royally disappointed if I wasn't as good as I'm gonna' get with 'em yet."
W e a p o n s : His spear, "Bahamutʼs Tear" and the Blade of the Lost God.
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Posted: Fri Dec 31, 2010 7:48 am
Tao Klow - Gypsy / Thief / Wanderer - Reserved
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