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Major Land
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Dew the Do!
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2 yrs ago
I dont care about Russia or Ukraine, but I love that that's the real RP Mercenary scene - that they aren't "paragon"-Tuxedo-Emos from Syndicates at long last, they're still Ranger-Warriors!
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Bio
All I know is Swordsmanship meant leaving a Sword in the ground where I Bare hearth on this turf we call Earth.
Mayhaps I can accomplish RPing a Sword.
Mayhaps I can accomplish RPing a Sword.
Most Recent Posts
Welcome to the RPG!
Welcome to the RPG!
Welcome to the RPG!
Welcome to the RPG!
Welcome to the RPG!
My Sword was sheathed on my Back. It was Steel, Black and 25 Inches long. The Blade was 18 Inches with a ravagous double-side for shearing through flesh. The Sheath came with it, some sort of carbon-denim. I had just bought the thing at the Princedom, it’s not been used other than the abdolute soul integrity I had weilding it before it was bought.
I looked Her about, as peer as I do, the Eyes for talk.
I looked Her about, as peer as I do, the Eyes for talk.
It jolted to a stop. Sliding a length after it passed. A Woman appeared travelling with some surrily looking boppers.
She had a European Scythe, and her two pinstriped females had pickaxes.
She glanced my way, making it a full peer before entering the caravan. The boppers merely looked bemused about me, not looking to long.
I had just about reached my path to the shire when I got asked in the yonder behind me “Hey, Sword. Or maybe you’re not on an Oath just a Vow, so ‘Swordsman’!”
I looked over my shoulder, adjourned my stride, grounding myself. There was another door on this side of the caravan too. Her scythe wasnt with her, so were her boppers.
She was leaning aback on the closed door.
She had a European Scythe, and her two pinstriped females had pickaxes.
She glanced my way, making it a full peer before entering the caravan. The boppers merely looked bemused about me, not looking to long.
I had just about reached my path to the shire when I got asked in the yonder behind me “Hey, Sword. Or maybe you’re not on an Oath just a Vow, so ‘Swordsman’!”
I looked over my shoulder, adjourned my stride, grounding myself. There was another door on this side of the caravan too. Her scythe wasnt with her, so were her boppers.
She was leaning aback on the closed door.
Coming to a hearth I steadied my strait off the bound for the path beset before it. It split in multiple ways, each having a clearing to Steads provinced. Were it a passion for Homage or Yearning I did not fathom getting off my rove, for I never feigned brawn.
As I neared the hearth a Frontier-Caravan made way from a Route. I didnt take my last steps, onto that hearth, to let it wayfair by settled in its course, regardless of me.
As I neared the hearth a Frontier-Caravan made way from a Route. I didnt take my last steps, onto that hearth, to let it wayfair by settled in its course, regardless of me.
He [I] was walking on a path in the Woods, leaving the Forest for a valley of roving plains. As the Path opened the view His stride changed to venture off the path onto the Hill. It was no longer a Route, but ranging was quicker than within a Forest, so He [I] caroused the Hill, adventured His [My] stride and scoured the Terrain. The Forest upending behind Him [Me] from which the Vale began.
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