Yafor 2
31-12-2004, 17:12
OOC:Please join...I don't want to be known as the "when he posts, the RP dies" guy....
BIC:
Morphian stared into the starry night. His black cloak spun behind him in the cold, harsh, wind. His eyes were hidden, hidden by the hood that blanketed his face in a veil of darkness. He wore black gloves, a shiny, gloosy, black, and a V-1 "Cuatro", a laser pistol, was in his right hand. Two other V-1's were on his belt, holstered, but ready. He raised his head. All was ready.
He kneeled, now, dropping his V-1 and putting his gloves, palm first, onto the ground. He bowed his head so that now his whole face was shrouded in shadow. The night swirled around him, beating against his kneeling body, but he paid it no mind. Lost in the mists of prayer to an unknown god, these things mattered not to him. Nothing mattered to him when he was in prayer. Nothing but the object upon which he prayed to.
As he put the finishing touches to his praying, he rose. He was a mercenary, a soldier of fortune, one who had been wronged by his government and seeked revenge. He was a smart, cool, collected, man who knew everything. He was paid to. He was an intelligence chief, or at least a mercenary one. He was looking for someone to pay him to get information, and he might have found on. Maybe.
Picking up his V-1, he drew forward and, turning back, he sighed. Would a payer come? Or would he be lost, swirling in a ocean, cut off, with nothing to cling on to?
OOC:Basically, this is a epilouge to my MT RP that if forthcoming. He tried a coup, but failed. No he is looking to collect information for money for someone. Another nation can be that someone.
BIC:
Morphian stared into the starry night. His black cloak spun behind him in the cold, harsh, wind. His eyes were hidden, hidden by the hood that blanketed his face in a veil of darkness. He wore black gloves, a shiny, gloosy, black, and a V-1 "Cuatro", a laser pistol, was in his right hand. Two other V-1's were on his belt, holstered, but ready. He raised his head. All was ready.
He kneeled, now, dropping his V-1 and putting his gloves, palm first, onto the ground. He bowed his head so that now his whole face was shrouded in shadow. The night swirled around him, beating against his kneeling body, but he paid it no mind. Lost in the mists of prayer to an unknown god, these things mattered not to him. Nothing mattered to him when he was in prayer. Nothing but the object upon which he prayed to.
As he put the finishing touches to his praying, he rose. He was a mercenary, a soldier of fortune, one who had been wronged by his government and seeked revenge. He was a smart, cool, collected, man who knew everything. He was paid to. He was an intelligence chief, or at least a mercenary one. He was looking for someone to pay him to get information, and he might have found on. Maybe.
Picking up his V-1, he drew forward and, turning back, he sighed. Would a payer come? Or would he be lost, swirling in a ocean, cut off, with nothing to cling on to?
OOC:Basically, this is a epilouge to my MT RP that if forthcoming. He tried a coup, but failed. No he is looking to collect information for money for someone. Another nation can be that someone.