If a segue into the fun and adventure isn't forthcoming, I will be posting one by tomorrow evening. That's U.S. EST, if you're counting the minutes.
That being said, let's review:
We've got Yuri, Etzo, and Cricket in Gerik's company back at HQ. Sigurd is waiting outside for us to get a move on, and Rath (NPC) and small contingent of Sheikah are escorting/carrying The Knight back to HQ, where I assume we'll all meet up, get orders from Gerik, and run like hell to the Gerudo Fortress and engage in an unholy Hylian smackdown. Did I miss anybody?
Would have done a bit more with it tonight, but I find that I am slightly under the influence of single malt scotch and chocolate ice cream.
The wagon kept moving up the road, along with the rest of the people associated with Cremwise's guard. Far from caring, Keystone's stood in the pouring rain, eyes staring hard into the Elf. He took a second to memorize the details of the new guy's face, but also used the moment to look for indications of anything ulterior or shady. Convinced, at least for the meantime, the brawler nodded and let his face soften somewhat.
"Right then. That'll do for now. Yeah, warzone. Men an' Orcs've been under a treaty for a while. Somebody decided they didn't like it, an just recently the town south of 'ere got attacked by a bloody war party. Dunno why. Not my issue. What is: Getting Cremmy's wares next town over."
'Member, if you're with us, you're a guard. You got other obligation, get to steppin'. Not full certain how a single Elf's gonna fare in Orc claimed lands during wartime, though. Best to stick close. I like the name though; Colcannon. Good, starchy name, that."
Keystone turned and trudged back to the still departing wagon, moving to retake his place near the front. Along the way, he glanced back at the newest addition to the team, motioning to the Elk at his flank. "Ah yeah, many thanks for bringin' supper with. Not sure if we can get a fire goin' tonight, though. It was not clear whether the broad pugilist was serious, or trying at humor.
The merchant, Cremwise, was driving the wagon as usual. Just prior to taking position near him, Keystone poked his head over at their two semiconscious companions. They seemed ok. Hell, they seemed to have the best spot all to themselves, minus the large wolf. Yeah, they'd be fine, for now anyway. Hood still raised against the pressing elements, Keystone hoped that the weather would keep the Orcs' overland travel to a minimum. The rain was an irritant. Getting pincushioned by black hafted arrows or surrounded by a clan of pissed-off greenskins would be much more upsetting. Still, nothing to do but keep moving forward, engage in light conversation, and remain watchful for anything out of place.
Other RPs I've run or Co-GMed, there's a minimum amount of posts per period of time. Case in point, the D&D RP I'm in demands that I post once every four days, with a secondary rule stating that I must wait for two other posts before posting again.
Now, in order to make that happen during slow periods, it is encouraged that we post about character thoughts, feelings, or small actions in their down time. I had one post where my character farted in a bathtub. It was regarded by many as art (sadly), but it kept interest up in a slow period, even kickstarting others' posts. There's always something to write about, even if you're just waiting out front.
Describe a scarab beetle crawling by. Does it make little swishy tracks in the sand? Quiet scraping sounds against a stone? Is it carrying anything? Trying to hide from the broiling sun? Are you going to step on it? Maybe you're picking your nails with a knife, and/or tapping your foot impatiently. Perhaps you, too, need to let an unstable trouser-growl fly.
Yes, I believe that the RP needs to progress. In the meantime, a little "getting to know you" or "flavor text" posting isn't going to hurt matters any. May even let our benevolent GM understand that we're still in play, active, and ready to move. Doing nothing says the opposite of this.
Get the band together, kill some bad guys, eventually realize our fuller potential as heroes of multiple backgrounds become greater than the sum of our parts.
And kill more bad guys. Also, there's a Triforce involved.
@Double - I'm pretty sure that the ones who have responded are the ones that will be active in this. I submit that we're ready to proceed with our current group.
Location: Newnan Courthouse Clocktower Interacting With: The Dead, and the About To Be Dead
The empty clip ejected, the fresh one inserted as quickly as James's hands could insert it. A second, or just a hair over. The problem was, that second was another span of time he wasn't aiming and shooting. The skilled marksman raised the rifle just in time to see his friend and fellow agriculturist take a nasty bite to her arm. "Damn, girl..." escaped his lips as he took aim on the offending Dead Guy's cranium. His finger tensed on the trigger, and the undead melon exploded into a gelatinous canoe shape. Strangely, he had not actually pulled the trigger yet.
He pondered possible answers to this seeming miracle. Perhaps in this moment of extreme stress, coupled with the canned meat that was somewhat past its recommended consumption date he had spread on crackers earlier, some manner of psionic awakening had occurred. Not dissimilar to the comic book superheroes he enjoyed reading about in his youth, possibly a thing that, especially in this dark era, was extremely necessary.
Now, costume selection would be a touch slim, give the situation. Little in the way of custom fitted unstable molecules with which to adorn himself. Perhaps his overalls and cowboy hat would have to suffice. A battle cry would also be a priority. Now, his superhero name would be easy. "Black James". Yes, that would inspire the necessary fear in those that required it, and hope to the downtrodden. Plus, most everyone already called him that, so hey, easy transition. Yes, this would be a good thing. Now, to use his newfound head-exploding power to liberate Newnan from the scourge of invaders and walking corpses.
And then he saw Zoie approach the scene, rifle in hand. Damnit.
Ok, so he didn't have powers. He did still have a big fucking gun, though. In his hands, that was powers enough. Luckily, or unluckily, depending, the Edenite he wasn't able to shoot earlier changed direction, beelining for Maria instead of the Courthouse. Fine with James - it meant he was still in line-of-sight. One pull of the trigger tore the back of the man's head off. Some meters away, the fresh and bloody skullcap spun around on the blacktop like a grisly beggar's bowl. His next few bullets were dedicated, as requested, to ensuring a clear path back into the Courthouse for both Maria and Zoie.
A glance back to the Armory gave him an instant boost of morale. James let the feeling of cautious hope wash over him, even accepting the smile forming on his lips. Captain Holloway, Ash, had secured the Armory. And he was rallying Newnan to him.
Ashton Holloway
Location: Newnan Armory Interacting With: Tom, Meg, Newnan
People of Newnan began streaming in toward the Armory at a faster rate. They had enough guns and ammunition to pass out for everyone present, definitely enough in the way of melee weapons as well. Now, they weren't helpless. Every man, woman, and child old enough to train with a blade carried one; it was one of the rules every citizen of the Newnan Safe Zone pledged to follow. Everyone carried at least a good knife. But a knife was far less preferable than a machete, or a spear, or definitely a nice, reliable shotgun.
They didn't have forever, either. Zoie had left her perch to go help Maria, and without her there, her distraction would soon burn out and the Dead would be finding different ways to pass the time. Ash dearly wished he had a longer window to equip his people, but it was what it was. Do what he could for as many as he could, and trust that they could begin to take care of themselves. He took to personally passing out a series of handguns and clips of ammunition to the approaching people.
"Mark, here you go. Sophie, take this. Good. Marcy, Dennis, keep the line moving. Richard..."
That was Richard's cap, certainly. But that was not Richard under it. No sense asking questions at this point. A single gunshot sounded, Ash keeping a businesslike, nonchalant expression all the while. The Newnanites seemed startled to see someone's face concave and cervical vertebrae flap out of the back of their neck, but kept pressing forward to arm themselves. All except for one lady, who suddenly seemed very concerned with moving in he direction opposite of the group. Ashton looked to one Newnanite, this one the only obstacle between himself and a clear shot at the retreating invader, and posed a steady request.
"Um, Deb? Head to the side, please." The Newnan woman, confused for a quarter second, suddenly jerked her head to the right as Ash raised his .45 and took a shot. The bullet ripped into the invading woman's back and out of her sternum, dropping her like a sack of wet dog hair. "Someone get her brain for me? And... you, take a gun. Machete, too. Who's next?"
The fire began burning lower. It was now or never. "People! I need three more of you on my team. Two more teams of five, start clearing these buildings. Armory is clear, Courthouse is clear. We have new arrivals at the Courthouse, treat them good! Anywhere else, if you don't know them, they die.
Everybody else: CLEAR OUR STREETS. We're taking back the inner wall. If you can, save the bullets for those fuckers that don't belong here."
"We've got this, Newnan. MOVE OUT."
There was a sense of purposeful pride, a certain beauty to the sight of a community righting itself. Frenzied but organized violence, bent on reclaiming their home. Thusly began the painful, necessary work of the citizens of a post-apocalyptic Newnan, beating order back into the chaos that their home had become. They fought for their right to have a safe home of their own, a task to which they set upon with primal justification moderated by the human need to care for their own - evidenced by their willingness to provide support to the newcomer Zoie, helping her get her precious injured cargo to safety.
Name: Bridgette Anne Vinters Aliases: Bree, Blacksmith, Shield Maiden of Fairburn Age: 27 Birthday: May 5th Ethnicity: Caucasian, of Nordic descent Birth Place: Evanston, IL Location: Fairburn, GA Gender: Female Major/Minor: Machinist/Metalworking (Technical Diploma from the Chicago Industrial Art & Design College)
Occupation: Blacksmith, Freelance (Standing contracts included various annual Jousting events, Medieval Reenactments, Highland Games, Viking Demos, Cutlery Shows & Conventions, and Renaissance Festivals across North America.) Former Bouncer
Height: 6’1” Weight: 150 Build: Toned, broad shouldered Eyes: Seawater Blue Hair: Blonde, long. Shaved on side and set in braids. Skin Tone: Pale Tattoos/Scars/Piercings: Yes. Several burn scars from years of metalwork, multiple ear piercings, ten gauge through tongue.
Psychology
Cheerful * Angry * Loyal * Blunt
Sexuality: Bisexual Relationship Status: Single Personality: Bridgette is a openly cheerful person, if she feels comfortable around you. If not, she’s a little standoffish, bordering on violent (so don’t push it). Most comfortable in a forge or workshop, preferably outdoors, she takes delight in the creation of useful things with ingots and wire, reclaiming scrap steel for artistic and practical endeavors.
Socially, she seems a bit stunted. She wants to be funny and outgoing, but experience has taught her never to get particularly close with anyone or rooted in any one spot. Secretly, she hopes for the opposite of this - a home and friends, maybe one day a family.
Habits: Tapping her nails, messing with her tongue stud. Hobbies: Making wire jewelry (torcs and such) Fears:
Losing loved ones
Running out of alcohol
Being helpless
Likes:
Sugar/Sweets
Scandinavian Heavy Metal
Drinking
A Good Steak
Horseback Riding
Fresh Fruit
Dislikes:
Pushy people (she likes to be the only one)
Decaffeinated Coffee (because what's the point?)
Mosquitos
Impatient People
Video Game Armor for Women
Reality TV (not as much of an issue anymore)
Cards On The Table
Pre Outbreak Skills:
Machinist (Metalwork)
Smithing
Brutal Fisticuffs
Axe
Shotgun
Post Outbreak Skills:
Knife
Shield Techniques
Equestrian
Sword
Spear
Very Basic Cooking
Current Supplies:
Clothing: Chain Hauberk (knee length, 3/4 sleeve, titanium, hooded, split for riding, double breasted with buckles) Riveted steel greaves and bracers, goggled helm, pink paisley bandanna, kneehigh brown snake boots, loose carpenter’s jeans, black tank top, rainbow colored kneehigh socks, large fur mantle, silver wolf head torc
Backpack (contains basic Forge Tools and canned goods)
Saddlebags
American Quarter Horse (with all the fixin's)
History
Your First Walker Encounter: "Fuck's sake, how difficult is it to walk across the street and grab a candy bar? It was a long day at the Faire, 'cause it didn't matter that business sucked out loud, we had to be seen making horseshoes or some shit. Whatever. Badassed flu's going around, so the only people I'm impressing are the Jousting Team and the Northumbria Reenactors. The staff has their own shit to deal with."
"I get a break and hit the gas station across from the Faire. Got a real need for a Blue Raspberry Slushie and a Snickers. No sooner than I pay and set foot out the door, some fucker takes a bite out of an old lady and starts gnawing away. Then some other loser runs him over with his truck. Now, here's the kicker: The Biter gets back up and keeps trying to eat the old lady."
"If I knew then what I know now, I wouldn't have bothered trying to call 911."
History Before Outbreak: Bridgette's was born and raised in Evanston, Illinois, to a father who really wanted a son. Now, dear old dad was a professional Boxer. Regionally a success, but he never quite got his big break. Nonetheless, it paid the bills and kept his family fed. He insisted that his daughter learn from him at an early age, and when she got a little older, enrolled her in a proper gym. She excelled. But, it wasn't where she wanted to be. Nice fallback though, hurting people. Bridgette got a lot of practice outside of the ring as well, making her preferred style less "Marquess of Queensberry" and more "Because Fuck'em, That's Why".
At any rate, despite her talent, this was not the path Bridgette wanted to follow. She had dreams of a career that lasted more than fifteen years, and a retirement plan that didn't involve chronic pain coupled with possible brain injury. With this in mind, she enrolled in the Chicago Industrial Art & Design College, studying the trade of a Machinist and taking as many metalworking classes as they offered.
During her free time, Bridgette fell in with a Chicago SCA group. She learned more about her Scandinavian heritage and picked up a some weapon training, but mostly found it an interesting diversion to the grind of WORK SCHOOL SLEEP that often accompanies people in her position. Her work mostly involved bouncing. Part time, but it covered what expenses student loans didn't (and those she didn't want Daddy knowing about). Being a pretty, female bouncer had its share of difficult moments, but the work was as steady and as flexible as she needed it. Plus, it kept her skills sharp.
Upon graduating, Bridgette was certain that her shiny new diploma and certifications would land her a great career fabricating and working metal, with a respectable salary and broad insurance. Then reality took a wet towel to her ass in a painful, depressing manner.
Long story short about her professional life, the only job Bridgette could get was through one of her SCA friends. He knew a Reenactor Blacksmith that needed an assistant. Though it wasn't the technical career she dreamed of, it paid bills. More than that, she learned a new depth of metalwork, and was able to combine it with other skills into a new passion. Bridgette was a touch bitter that her life plan fell away, but genuinely began to enjoy the new one opening before her. The budding Smith staked out on her own, taking contracts from several related business entities that were in need of a custom metalworker or period blacksmith.
Her last contract, before all hell broke loose, was as a resident Armorer for the Georgia Renaissance Festival. While the attractions weren't really "Renaissance", it was exactly where her talents lay.
History Since Outbreak: Since the "Candy Bar Incident", Bridgette decided to stay with the Fest. There was adequate food and fresh water supplies, some medical, LOTS of weapons (many of which she made), raw resources, livestock, space for growing, and WALLS. About half of the others felt the same way, including the Jousting group and the Viking Northumbria Reenactors. They were given word that there were safe zones and evacuation points in Atlanta, which several people opted for, but to Bridgette sounded like suicide. The last thing they needed to do during a deadly viral(?) outbreak was to crowd together with a few thousand other people in cramped circumstances. Thank you, but no.
They figured that waiting there until this epidemic passed was the best course of action. The problem was, it didn't pass.
Everything was okay at first. They lived off of the Festival's supplies for the longest time, and used their archaic skills to transform the Working Hamlet Tourist Attraction into an fully functioning, mostly sustainable town. Bridgette expanded upon her SCA combat training with the Northumbria people. She learned all manner of interesting and painful things, almost to the exclusion of everything else. She was a fighter. Survival skills suffered, but her role was that of a fighter and worker of metal. The hunters hunted, the scavengers scavenged. Bridgette fought and swung hammer against anvil.
There was an amount of infighting. People died. Sometimes the infected got in. The Town suffered all the same things that everyone else did when the world fell apart. But they soldiered on. Sometimes, very unfriendly people tried to get in. Assaults were made against their Run teams. Very bad things happened. Still, they kept on for over two years.
What finally brought down their little, medieval community was disease. Some germ or another found its way into the walls, and without proper medical facilities or a medical professional, they fell like dominoes. Many left. Many more died. After a while, it was just Bridgette and one of the Shield Maidens. Two people were too few to hold their home, and so they decided to bury or hide as many of their supplies as they could, shore up the walls as best as possible, and leave in search of a new home or trustworthy people to bring back to this one.
Extras
Character Quote: "Back up. You're stepping on my dick." Theme Song:Nightwish - End Of All Hope How Many Walkers Have You Killed: "Fuck's sake, why is that a question? Not near enough. How about that?" How Many People Have You Killed: "Wait, killed, or just decapitated? See, if you wrap a belt around their neck real tight before the axe comes down, they'll blink for like, 30 seco... Umm, nine maybe. Dunno." Why: I'm not a fan of getting raped or killed, and no one I know is, either. Anything Else:
Preferred method of combat to kick things off is Spear & Shield, followed by Axe & Shield. If engaging in range combat, Bridgette favors her Sawed-Off Shotgun (crossbow of the modern era), which is usually kept on her horse or tucked into her backpack, pistol grip sticking out of the top.
If she's not trying to kill anyone (or lacks options), Bridgette is one hell of an unarmed scrapper. Also fond of shield bashing techniques.
*By submitting this CS in its completion I am stating I have read all the rules for this Rp and am agreeing to follow them to the fullest with respect and courtesy.
"Cap'n Walldick? Yeah, he's ... actually ok. Might owe him an apology."
Bridgette was rude as hell to Ashton when they first met. Despite this, Ash acted in the manner of a professional. He offered the Valkyries a home and purpose, which Bridgette accepted over drinks.
☮ James Grady ☮
"He's ok. Burns a mean slab of cow, but that hat. Goddamn."
Bridgette likes the self-titled Blackneck, even if they don't get along all the time. Also, he's the only other Axe slinger in Newnan, even if it is a midsize woodaxe. Maybe later, she'll forge him something with a little more panache.
☯ Kristina Smith ☯
"...touched my horse..."
Ok, fine, so they got off on the wrong foot. Little Miss Sweet & Innocent had a bad day; so did Bridgette. Maybe they can find common ground down the road a piece. A far piece. Maybe they'll run into each other when she makes her Agriculture runs. <wink, wink>
☯ Richard Johnson ☯
"The fuck is his deal?"
Richard comes across to Bridgette as ungenuine. Smooth talker, at first. Seems to find a reason to like people, then not to like them. It is a contrast to Bridgette's blunt openness. Nevertheless, he contributes, so he's part of the group. Basically, she is waiting to form an opinion on the man.
☮ Zoie Crawford ☮
"Heh, bitch is crazy. I had my way, she'd be fitted for a horned helmet immediately."
While unsure of Zoie's feelings toward her, Bridgette finds a sort of odd kinship with the native Georgian. Not remotely the same as with Astrid, but she figures they can be friends.
⚜ Victor Bonheur ⚜
"If we had one of him two years ago, maybe our village wouldn't be a fucking ghost town."
Victor helps keep Newnan alive, as much as the guards or the walls. The want of a doctor finally destroyed her first, post-outbreak home. Plus, this one is teaching Astrid part of the trade. Yeah, any personal oddities he might have can be easily overlooked. Bridgette would impale a bitch as quickly for Froggy as she would for Ash.
☮ Sophia Harris ☮
"TWO MORE, BITCH! TWO MORE!!!"
Sophia came in with Bridgette and Astrid, twenty minutes after her lumberjack amputation. While she means well, she has the insensitive habit of calling Sophia "The Future Mrs. Hook", among other things. As she already has the habit of visiting Astrid in the Infirmary, Bridgette has taken it upon herself to act as Sophia's personal physical therapist, often as loudly and vigorously as possible.
Symbol Tatiana Korvo Symbol
" - "
Relation Details
Bridgette Vinters
"Yeah. I'd do her."
Loud, vulgar, violent, uncouth. These things are said about her damned near every day. What else is said: Loyal, fierce, honest, brave. If she accepts you as part of her clan, she will still be all of those things, but for you.
♫ Astrid Hansen ♫
"She's a sister, true as any. Except that sometimes, we wriggle against each other until we're out of breath."
The two of them lived because of and for each other for a long time. They are as close as sisters, and occasionally closer. Not that they're in love, mind you. That would be silly. Given a choice between Newnan and Astrid, Bridgette would walk away from the town and everyone in it. Not that she could be blackmailed into it. Such an act of submission would be dishonorable.
☮ Agnes Johannsson ☮
"So, she doesn't ride a horse. As far as I'm concerned, she's one of us, anyway."
Bridgette likes Bryn. Really likes her. Despite the fact that she talks very little, possibly even less than Astrid, Bryn is her kind of people. Don't tell anyone, but Bridgette thinks she's kind of cute, too. Many an evening, Bryn, Bridgette, an Astrid can be seen near a fire, braiding each other's hair while the two quiet ones communicate via grunts and some manner of bitch telepathy while Bridgette waxes on colorfully, in only the way she can. Chicks before dicks!
☯ Niesha Burkstien ☯
"What the fucking fuck is fucking wrong with that fuck? FUCK!"
Pissed off Astrid. Pissed off Froggy. About got Sophia killed, from the story of it. Alright, emotional day all around. Shit happens. Bridgette was one of the people that brought her into Newnan, so she feels partly responsible. Well, very slightly responsible. Bree's keeping an eye on her. Maybe she'll come around.
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[hider=Death Scenes]
[url=http://www.roleplayerguild.com/posts/3622266]Dexter's Death (or Hammertime!)[/url]
[url=https://www.roleplayerguild.com/posts/3837944]The UnBEARable Case of Lawrence Long[/url]
[url=https://www.roleplayerguild.com/posts/4020657]Malfunctioning Space Toilet[/url]
[url=https://www.roleplayerguild.com/posts/4557122]Rube Goldberg Decapitation[/url]
[url=https://www.roleplayerguild.com/posts/4569229]Shitter's Full[/url]
[url=https://www.roleplayerguild.com/posts/4602115]Dirigible (warning, SAD)[/url]
[url=https://www.roleplayerguild.com/posts/4538295]After "The Last Barbecue"[/url]
[url=https://www.roleplayerguild.com/posts/4723699]Detoxing Pilot[/url]
[url=https://www.roleplayerguild.com/posts/4745239]Girls Stick Together[/url]
[url=https://www.roleplayerguild.com/posts/4749807]Oops[/url]
[/hider]
[url=http://www.roleplayerguild.com/posts/3214659]"Character Flaw"[/url]
[url=http://www.roleplayerguild.com/posts/2968914]Keystone's Daydream[/url]
[url=http://www.roleplayerguild.com/posts/3040161]Checking for Mental Intrusion[/url]
[url=http://www.roleplayerguild.com/posts/3594115]The Power Of Pain Compels You[/url]
[url=https://www.roleplayerguild.com/posts/4670484]The Greater Good[/url]
[url=https://www.roleplayerguild.com/posts/5134610]Burial & Origin of James Mandingo Grady[/url]
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<div style="white-space:pre-wrap;"><div class="hider-panel"><div class="hider-heading"><button type="button" class="btn btn-default btn-xs hider-button" data-name="Lady Absinthia's GM Awards">Lady Absinthia's GM Awards [+]</button></div><div class="hider-body" style="display: none"><ul class="bb-list" style="white-space: normal;"><li></li><li>Save Another from LLA Card</li><li>Kill Any NPC in LAU Card</li><li>Plot Insight Card</li><li>Single Day Extension Card</li><li>Single Day Extension Card</li><li></li></ul></div></div><br><br><div class="hider-panel"><div class="hider-heading"><button type="button" class="btn btn-default btn-xs hider-button" data-name="Death Scenes">Death Scenes [+]</button></div><div class="hider-body" style="display: none"><a href="http://www.roleplayerguild.com/posts/3622266">Dexter's Death (or Hammertime!)</a><br><a href="https://www.roleplayerguild.com/posts/3837944">The UnBEARable Case of Lawrence Long</a><br><a href="https://www.roleplayerguild.com/posts/4020657">Malfunctioning Space Toilet</a><br><a href="https://www.roleplayerguild.com/posts/4557122">Rube Goldberg Decapitation</a><br><a href="https://www.roleplayerguild.com/posts/4569229">Shitter's Full</a><br><br><a href="https://www.roleplayerguild.com/posts/4602115">Dirigible (warning, SAD)</a><br><a href="https://www.roleplayerguild.com/posts/4538295">After "The Last Barbecue"</a><br><a href="https://www.roleplayerguild.com/posts/4723699">Detoxing Pilot</a><br><a href="https://www.roleplayerguild.com/posts/4745239">Girls Stick Together</a><br><a href="https://www.roleplayerguild.com/posts/4749807">Oops</a></div></div><br><br><a href="http://www.roleplayerguild.com/posts/3214659">"Character Flaw"</a><br><br><a href="http://www.roleplayerguild.com/posts/2968914">Keystone's Daydream</a><br><br><a href="http://www.roleplayerguild.com/posts/3040161">Checking for Mental Intrusion</a> <br><br><a href="http://www.roleplayerguild.com/posts/3594115">The Power Of Pain Compels You</a><br><br><a href="https://www.roleplayerguild.com/posts/4670484">The Greater Good</a><br><br><a href="https://www.roleplayerguild.com/posts/5134610">Burial & Origin of James Mandingo Grady</a><br><br><div class="hider-panel"><div class="hider-heading"><button type="button" class="btn btn-default btn-xs hider-button" data-name="Signature Images">Signature Images [+]</button></div><div class="hider-body" style="display: none"><div class="bb-center"><img src="https://media.giphy.com/media/xT0GqpswuzhOqHP6gM/giphy-downsized-large.gif" /></div><br><br><div class="bb-center"><img src="https://media.giphy.com/media/iMnyx7HWjZgPu/giphy.gif" /></div><br><br><div class="bb-center"><img src="http://i.imgur.com/wUTjLTf.gif" /></div><br><br><div class="bb-center"><img src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-K04tQV9pRE8/UCFQiE8aoVI/AAAAAAAATJk/hIK7mzvvYpk/s430/99.gif" /></div><br><br><div class="bb-center"><img src="http://i.imgur.com/rigeWJc.gif" /></div><br><br><div class="bb-center"><img src="https://uproxx.files.wordpress.com/2015/05/throughthedoor.gif?w=650" /></div></div></div><br><br><div class="bb-center"><img src="https://image.ibb.co/jVrOhp/Scythefalling.gif" /></div></div>
Sister Sable
RPM
Zman
Shadow Dragon
Not a Sayan
Simply Not Real
Fetzen
Lewascan2
Arty Fox
