@@abrocadabruh
((Nice
((Nice
((Awesome!))
(Thanks y’all!)
((No one gotta discriminate against my little cockroach
((Okay then.))
(Are we starting?)
((Need starter for
((Sure, we can start. Should the characters meet in a bar or something?))
((Fine by me))
((It’s 4am, though, so I’m going to bed soon))
(You don't mind if I step in before we atart?)
If it's OK, here's my character…
Name: Al Kush
Gender: Male
Sexuality: Bisexual
Age: 21
Species: Vulkodlak
Powers: Some psychic powers such as telepathy, mind-reading and mind-control and defunct physiology, demonic transformation.
Personality: A strange guy, icy, cold, gritty, apathetic, and seemingly a self-serving punk at first, but fierce and loyal, and his heart's in the right place. Cool guy too.
Appearance: Tall and, with black hair and a small stubble, as well as brown eyes. Has black markings under his eyes that look like eyeliner, but his species have those.
Background: Travels a lot, generally a thrillseeker and side character going to certain places for a job. I'm putting a filter on this R-rated guy to make him PG-13.
((Great character!))
(Oh, thanks.)
((Someone make starter))
(I got you!!!!!!!)
Al walked into the joint, a bar, with pool table and shelves full of various types of alcohol. The tails and collar of his trenchcoat bustled and billowed around him.
"This seems like my kinda place…" He chuckled, taking a seat on a barstool next to some barfly slouched over the counter.
"What'll it be?" The bartender asked.
Cressida altered her glamour so she looked older, then walked in and sat next to Al.
Pallas’Rebe was currently morphed as a scorpion, trapped under a cup that someone had put over him. He was trapped and scurrying around the cup like an idiot.
I'll take a scotch, on the rocks." Al said, looking around the bar.
The scorpion tapped the glass with his stinger, pushing the glass along and sliding past Al slowly.
Thatcher was sat towards the back, his knee bouncing as he kept his hands folded on the table in front of him. He was staring at his bourbon with narrowed eyes, like he was trying to figure it out. He never understood the obsession of alcohol.
"Oh neat, a scorpion." Al said, reaching his hand out. He didn't care if the little arachnid stung him at all, as he was pretty exempt from poison and disease..
Once the cup is lifted, the scorpion transforms into Pallas, a full sized bug-human person, sitting on the bar awkwardly. He chirps.
“Oof, አዝናለሁ“
"Hmh?" Al muses. "You're an interesting one."
“ም ን ማ ለ ት ነ ው?” He snaps, pouting. He shifts so he isn’t on top of Al and crosses his arms. He proceeds to stagger over his language.
"It's alright pal, I get it" Al said telepathically, since it was a thing that could pass all language barriers.
The scorpion screeches and morphs back into a bug, stinging Al in a panic.
Al received his scotch from an otherwise confused bartender, taking a sip. If this was a supernatural scorpion, maybe it had stung him with different venom.
The scorpion becomes human again and sits on the bar, looking so very angry. He struggles with his language for a moment before speaking again.
“Don’t get into my brain.”
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