Aagaron

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HkQ7_oWqKpc Edit: LOUD

Name: Arden Costello Age: 31 Race: Human Registered magics: Clericism (Tahariae) Past Offenses(if any): None Signature: A. Costello

I might as well. Skype: andarude

I never use the Nexus paper. I get rid of it a.s.a.p. when it appears in my inventory.

Aep picks up the piece of paper and turns it over, frowning. Growing gradually more disgruntled, he reorients the paper several times, rotating it every which-way. After about five minutes, he remembers that he doesn't know how to read and scratches his head. He looks around to make sure nobody has seen this awkward incident transpire, and heads home with a dejected demeanor.

http://gyazo.com/b0acb24166b029b9f72ce50ac7f89bb4

Geology's hard, mang

In the aftermath of the wyrm attack on the city of Al-Dirakh, Hammon lies on his back in the sand. As the denizens of the city scurry about the carcass of the dead beast, he pats around in the sand, finding the hilt of his khopesh. He attempts to rise, only getting an inch or so up before wincing and collapsing. His breathing is labored and each breath is painfully drawn. He hearkens to his knowledge of medicine, deducing that he has broken a few ribs after being headbutted by the massive weight and speed of the wyrm. He opens his mouth to speak to the few remaining people in the bazaar, letting out only a cough as they pass him by and continue walking. Hammon's heart rate quickens and he attempts to call out, only worsening his coughing fits. He slides his curved sword downwards, and his facial expression changes to that of confusion as it abruptly stops beside him. He rolls his head to the side, only seeing the khopesh stop against his leg. Hesitantly, he swings it outwards and inwards again, feeling a shudder in his waist, but not in his leg. Now panicked, Hammon calls out between worsening coughing fits, "I cannot... feel my... legs...." Beneath his bright red tunic and battered leather lamellar, three of his ribs have been broken and splintered, sending bone fragments forth into his lungs, therein puncturing and letting blood into them. He coughs more and more, blood eventually surfacing as he slowly loses consciousness. Hammon looks around, desperate for someone- anyone- to help him, but as his vision fades and his blood fills his lungs, no one comes. After an hour or so, he lay dead in the center of the bazaar: the mighty Amir having been killed by a worm.

Hammon disapproves of the mass hashish-smoking and heretical figure displayed here, but is obligated to- and therefore only outwardly appears to be- overjoyed at the festivities.