Vec@tobiax I like them both. Just 4 seems like the more interesting choice.
Renny
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STATUS: "An apology is a promise to do things differently next time, and to keep the promise." - Ging Freecss 6 yrs ago
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"An apology is a promise to do things differently next time, and to keep the promise." - Ging Freecss
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6 yrs ago
“If you want to find the secrets of the universe, think in terms of energy, frequency and vibration.” ― Nikola Tesla
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“I think and think for months and years. Ninety-nine times, the conclusion is false. The hundredth time I am right.” – Albert Einstein
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“Yesterday I was clever, so I wanted to change the world. Today I am wise, so I am changing myself.” ― Rumi
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“Stand in the ashes of a trillion dead souls, and asks the ghosts if honor matters. The silence is your answer.” ― Javik
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Digimon: Digital Monsters! Multiple Potential Plots!
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11 yrs ago
Forum: Advanced Interest Checks
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Digimon: Digital Monsters! Multiple Potential Plots!
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11 yrs ago
Forum: Advanced Interest Checks
Same. More interested in 4 than 3 though.
Zoran smiled at the First Rider and shook his head. “None at all. I’ve been distracted recently, I apologize,” though he made sure to show the utmost respect to her, with a slight bow and closed eyes, he also couldn’t help sharing a glance at her beauty.
When the other approached, he greet them each with a mute wave of his hand. The last character to approach though had held a special connection with him. The small laughter that danced on his head placed an irritated smile on his face. He reached behind him and touched her head with a tender hand. He could do this much thanks to her size, any bigger and he’d have be cold and wary of her every move.
“Nice to see ya, Thora. Do try and be a bit less obnoxious today. We’re in the presence of other Riders, including the First.” he pointed out, rubbing her hair as if she was his charge.
@PyroDash888
Nabil.
Nabil paused as they reached the harbor, a dull yet exaggerated sigh leaving him. Marxo had been right, almost severely so. The ships had all been put down, the wreckage sinking into the debilitating ocean. Almost comically, the black haired pirate craned his neck towards his comrade and itched the side of his temple with his index finger, a light, cool chuckle leaving him.
“You were right as usual,” he admitted, just as he had dozens, no hundreds of times before.
In the grand scheme of things Marxo was a guiding star for Nabil. The youth had a darkening tunnel vision when it came to the marines and Marxo was the lanterns at the top, signs on the side, and occasionally the push that save his life from an oncoming train of overwhelming odds. He stuck a hand in his pocket and started to walk toward Marxo, some of the stuff on the ship could still be salvaged if they hurried but the both of them were Devil Fruit users, was it worth it?
Just as he turned around to face Marxo, he felt a shift in the thermal energy in the air. It was approaching fast too, far too fast for him to warn his blue-haired comrade. Simply, he launched himself out the way. He trusted Marxo to do the same since they trusted each other’s reaction wholly.
As he flipped around to face the crashing object, he was struck by expelled dirt and pebbles. The first pebble nicked the side of his neck, the rest of the rubble that passed by was dodged with minuscule movements. A wispy smoke hid the figure coming from the crater, so much in fact that Nabil had to scrutinize the smoke with a glare in order to see him.
The others that approached was worrisome but he felt more inclined to rip the captain apart. Anger etched its way onto his face, an unfiltered rage that disclosed his past but sheltered his usual calm. His right fist and forearm glowed hot-red as steam billowed from it.
“Atsu Atsu no Wrecking Ball!” he shouted, bursting towards the captain and throwing a powerful blow towards the man’s kidney, ready to unleash a barrage of heated attacks once he was stunned by the pain.
@Ira@Yorutenchi
Nabil.
Behind the fighters outside, the tavern had finally collapsed on itself. The sound of the wood cracking was sonorous, echoing from all sides until the final pebble pounced from the fifteen foot tall mess and onto the ground. At the very top, where the sun’s ray glared its strongest and blinded white, was a crouched, seated figure.
Nabil looked down at the Marines with a tense frown, his deep green eyes were narrowed with hatred. Slowly, he raised up from the crumbled mess and judged each of them guilty for hypocrisy. Marxo, a sword-wielding stranger, and that fishman from before was gathered along with them. Which meant he’d have to be more … delicate with his approach.
“Disgusting, vermin,” muttered Nabil as he shaped the heat flowing off his body. Red-hot needles formed around him, each aimed at one of the marines surrounding his comrade and the others.
A shot from a musket banged the air as it was released towards him. Again, the thin thread pulled at him and directed his senses towards the danger. A single needle shot through it with such speed that the iron ball cracked and fell to the ground. Was that all the speed he could muster at his current level? he wondered.
“W-Wah, impossible. I know those powers. Marxo and Nabil, that strange duo from Yumil Isle. They’re … They’re here too!” Fear made the man’s words stutter and tremble.
Before the others could aim their muskets at him, Nabil sent the needles into their chests. They all froze in pain before their heads tilted back, their eyes went white, and they sunk to the ground. Each pierced in the heart. Their muskets fell to the ground and when the last hit the floor, Nabil had lept down and landed on the windy road.
He sighed with boredom. Those were rookies, obviously. If the captains and lieutenants had been there, they would have be cautious of the needles and been prepared. The fresh meat was less inclined to be wary of the needles positioned around him, unaware of the speed he could release them with. Heat was a powerful fuel.
“Party’s over, Gills,” said Nabil in response to the fishman’s question. “Marxo, you’re playing with your food again. That cig must’ve calmed you down considerably. Let’s head for the harbor, I’m sure they didn't attack our ship.”
@Boss Muffin@Invisible@Ira
Zoran had made his way to the mess hall rather quickly, though his slow and confident steps would state otherwise. As he walked, he felt a yawn crawl up his throat and hit the air rather hard. He stepped down the long row of tables tonelessly, thinking of Thora, his duties, and his mother. It had been a month or two since he had left home, now he was riding a snappy dragon in hopes of making the country better.
He sat at a table with food already on the table. And looking off towards the recruits, reached into a bread bowl and bit into the perfectly-made bread. He chomped it twice before pausing, the essence of the bread ran on his tongue. It was delicious. Must had been Freya's cooking. With a glance he found her moving about the mess hall. She was a Dragon but she was a kind one. Even still, he was wary of her all too loving heart. She was too kind to be a beast that was stripped from her home and made to be a mount.
Zoran narrowed his eyes a bit, thinking that he should go visit Thora soon. He wondered where she was? "Probably off bothering someone. Getting into ... trouble," he paused as he swung his legs under the table and stared at The First Rider across from him. The beautiful and enticing. The powerful. Melaniya.
Clearing his throat, he said but one word in greeting. "Ma'am."
@Knight of Doom
Zoran stared into the clear pool of water in his cuffed palms, strands of his sandy blonde hair hung in his vision. What time was it? he wondered. The light in the sky was still gray, misty. The clouds were thin outside his barred windows, the stone of the building was could to the touch. His feet were icy and he hated it.
After a moment of thoughtless staring, he splashed his face and felt the water fall in droplets. The carved out stone that held his water rippled below him but went ignored. Zoran stepped across his small room, letting the drops fall as he did. He wondered how Thora faired when they weren't together. Seeing as her situation was just a bit different than the other dragons.
He sighed while dabbing his face dry.
The next thirty minutes were spent finding and putting his usual attire on. The black armor he wore was scratched with battle-worn experience, all but his pants were scuffed in some manger. With a practiced hand he wrapped his white cloak around his neck and let it cover his torso.
“May this day be better than the last.” he repeated to himself in a hush tone.
Sorry for being absent guys. Work has been a jackass with a period problem.
I'm off today though ^^
I'm off today though ^^
Nabil.
Cannonfire whistled outside. The eerie noise brought a dreadful sense of nostalgia to Nabil as he peered between the swinging doors. A flash of fire raced across the day before dying from a lack of fuel. His eyes narrowed as the shockwave rocked the Rusty Wench.
Too quickly he looked towards Marxo. They had waited too long, either that or somehow the marines had been tipped off about their raid. Now they were under attack. Or it could just be a random attack, some new order to wipe out any pirates heading into the Grandline. “We wasted too much time dealing with her!” He nudged his head pointedly towards the woman and her crew as they reacted to the explosions.
The air around Nabil shimmered from the rising heat surrounding him. The marines always lit a match beneath his feet. They pissed him off with their hypocritical ways and constant disregard for the innocent. A supposed order of justice that had turned out to be a mob of the weak pretending to be strong. He slid his fingers across the wood before turning towards the door to leave.
“We’re going to put an end to this,” he told Marxo as he neared the entrance.
Suddenly he heard that elven-eared woman yell for everyone to get down. He felt a twinge, a thread pull at him to roll to the left. Just as he did, the woman crashed through the tavern wall, through the counter, and into the wall; narrowly missing him. Instinctively he ran over to her, standing in the path of destruction her body made. He tsk! before stepping through and looking down at the cannonball in her hands.
That was stupid
Moments later the tavern shook again and pieces of wood started to clattered onto the floor. A ceiling fan crashed into a table and the dishes in the back could be heard shattering. Nabil went over to the seemingly unconscious woman and attempted to lift her into his arms, she didn't look like she weighed much. In his arms, she would feel warmer than normal; perhaps even hot.
“We’ll drop her off to that fishman from earlier and handle these marines ourselves.” he told Marxo.
@Yorutenchi@Ira
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