Parker

wtf joel i want my nuke

A smith mumbles. Happy to see others who do her line of work and properly.

[!] A horse gallops across the Velian fields – just outside a few men adorning steel crafted from Marcus Aurelius stood watch. One of those men was the Horse ‘Handler’ proud to show off his latest breed, 14.3 he called it.. till the DEV’s ruined them... a few moments later.

does this gf include the latest nvidia graphics?

lol?

Emil, a kadarsi folk sat within her home with parchment laid out and right hand grasping a quill with metal tip dipped with black ink. A few minutes of arduous writing until her fingertips were stained with parts of ink mixed with the clammy handling of the quill. The letter comprised of a formal greeting, of both their profession and intuition to improve their skill in combat, whilst in offering of teaching how to forge and create simple concoctions. The end referred to Belvitz or Renatus, and to ask for a dark-skinned woman or smith, signed in conclude with Emil.

does a default salute.

. *scratches head*

how active do you expect the player to be on the child

He’ll click, click, and click.. Clicking his way into the World Developer Team.

“It was dishonorable in the first place.. to join with Mercenaries and crooks.” she hissed, her left shoulder was where the bird perched its little feet – right hand beginning to crumple the paper with haste, tossing it only for the bird to pick it up and wander off in some direction south towards the harbor.

I’m sorry but first you have to clean your behavior first, perhaps in the future.....................

Dominion of Malin Larebilir Matos’onn The Smith from the Sand It was late at night, the soft breeze graced the sand whilst the moon dawned its silver shine upon the great desert of the Caliphate. Just outside the city where tents and sandstone constructions dotted the perimeter, were many families of different origin -- it was a dense cultural habitat. A child with long-ears which reached the length of her father's index. They had named her Salia, a mixture of elven and the location of her upbringing. Throughout her youth, she spent most of her time learning languages and important history points of the world she was born into. Among her family, she also had friends -- many Qalasheen whilst others were either elven or half-breeds, she was open-minded much like her family. Other than her academics, she was highly interested in her fathers craft. She grew up learning the ways of the hammer and anvil, whilst she sought new materials through haggling the markets or freely venturing into old-homes that had been taken halfway under sand through countless sandstorms. Unlike others, her father and mother were there till their last breath, of natural cause; old age. Whilst she mourned for the few days she spent there, before having her belongings packed, the woman brought herself to many places, finally settling into Caras Eldar almost four months later. She had met the Queen Renn Calithil and forged a bond with both her profession and her servitude to the Sovereignty, yet she kept her cultural background of sand and elvenesse. Whilst she forges, there comes memories of her old home, in wishes that she may come across her old friends in the later years or perhaps soon.

21st of Malin’s Welcome, 1686 It wasn’t silent, just off the gravel roads which took the ‘ame forward up North-east of Atlas would have a constant buzz that gave eerie tenor. It was dark – sun had long gone for the moon to dazzle across the skies with it’s all seeing rays of silver. The forest held significance, enough to warrant the Smith to regard it with curiosity. Squinting, she had pressed off the road, boots digging into softer grass leaving a light trail of parted greenery behind her militaristic poise. Her wrist bore the mark of the Immortal, Queens Guard of Caras Eldar and it’s Matriarch. As the woman approached, she was to start the hunt – a series of footsteps padding along the treetops, leaves shacking, some to befall upon the ground just before her. She had undone her blade, a silver luster upon the moons gaze as she held it out in front of her. She took the time to withdraw a vial, labelled with ‘F’ a marked symbol of a flame crudely inscribed below it on a piece of paper stuck with adhesive. Splattering it upon the blade, a flick of a flint was done upon the cross-guard, it was licked by flames along its length. Sali, the woman sworn to the Sovereignty of Caras Eldar stood against a vindictive and vile beast, one on all fours with antlers sprouting from it’s mangled head, it was betwixt from the woods and their dastardly creator, September Prince. It opened its wretched maw and bespoke insufferable moans, beginning to take itself to fight the Smith. A quick eye, she fought valiantly, blade clashed against it’s thickened hide – whilst it’s agonized bone which sprout from it’s skull chipped away from the shoulders of her bladed tip. An unfortunate turn of events, the Smith had her left hand severed, a painful cause of being ensnared by the foul beasts maw, naught just torn but wrangled until becoming parted. Bloodied but adrenaline rushing through her veins, the end result was the sword within it’s gullet.

if this was an introduction, it would’ve been up-voted twice. but farewell.