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 Posted: Tue May 11, 2010 6:00 pm
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Posted: Tue May 11, 2010 6:01 pm
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Posted: Tue May 11, 2010 6:13 pm
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Posted: Tue May 11, 2010 6:17 pm
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Posted: Tue May 11, 2010 6:18 pm
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Posted: Tue May 11, 2010 10:13 pm
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Posted: Wed May 12, 2010 6:11 am
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Posted: Wed May 12, 2010 7:02 am
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Posted: Wed May 12, 2010 9:47 am
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Posted: Wed May 12, 2010 4:18 pm
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Character: Drakoutetsu Königtum
Nickname: Drako
Age: 31
Height: 6'3"
Weight: Normally 237 lbs., but due to his mechanical replacement limbs, he is now 352 lbs.
Species: Dragonoid/Human
Skin Color: Light brown
Personality: Drakoutetsu tends to keep to himself. He is compassionate, but he refuses to show it due to his military training with his father.
Bio: Drakoutetsu was born and raised into the military life with his father, the Great Dragon Lord Ryu. Ryu was of the dragonoid race, a group of people whose blood line could be traced back to the dragons of legend. Being of dragon's blood, Ryu, along with the other people of the clan, were bestowed with the abilities of fire breathing and flight. Life in the clan was tough, especially for halflings such as Drakoutetsu. The harsh and rigid training routines were meant to condition dragonoids into prime condition, not outsiders or the dirty half-bloods. Unfortunately for Drakoutetsu, his mother was a filthy human. He loathed his mother. She dirtied his blood. If it weren't for her, Drakoutetsu wouldn't have struggled as much during training, and maybe he could've avoided the injuries he underwent during the war. The war... He couldn't've hated his mother more than that moment. He was flying right behind the pack struggling to keep up, then suddenly a single arrow came zooming up towards the group. If only she hadn't dirtied his blood, maybe that arrow wouldn't have pierced his wing; maybe he could've avoided that arrow. He rapidly plummeted towards the ground. If he didn't have royal blood, Drakoutetsu would've been left by the pack to die on that day. The pack had rushed him back to the nearest safe spot and had their best medic and mechanic get to work. Major scars marked the right side of his body. The medic had only once choice: amputation. The conditions were not favorable for the operation, so the medic and mechanic rushed him back to the city and began to operate. Drakoutetsu lay motionless and unconscious on the operating table. Scalpel. Gauze. Bandages. Tape. Words buzzed around and slowly, Drakoutetsu regained his consciousness. His vision slowly focused. Suddenly, a pain shot through his body and he quickly looked to where the pain came from, where his limbs once were. His right arm: missing. His right leg: missing. His right wing: missing. He panicked.
"We can replace them if you'd like." The mechanic looked up at him and held up his wrench. "Although, it would be quite painful."
"I don't care," Drako snarled, "just get the damn thing back on me."
He was put back to sleep and was operated on once more. The hypnotic whirring of the machinery helped. A sudden surge flowed through his body and he jolted up.
"GAHH!!" Drako felt the rush of pain and clenched his new claw into a fist. He sat confused and baffled for a moment then looked at his new arm. "I like it..."
Appearance: Very tall and athletic. Black hair fashioned into a mohawk/ponytail. Large dark left wing. Silver mechanical right wing, arm, and leg. The left side of his face (from the middle of the top of his face to his right jaw bone, including his eye) is silver with a bright white light in replacement to where his eye used to be.
Abilities: Able to wield a great sword with ease. Fire breathing. Flight.
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Posted: Wed May 12, 2010 4:21 pm
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Posted: Wed May 12, 2010 5:50 pm
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Lather and rinse. Lather, rinse and repeat. Constance had to stop her cleansing of the dirtied shirt to wipe her brow that had now been soaked with sweat. This laundry stuff was tedious work for her and everyone around. She let out a weary sigh and grabbed the bar of soap and swiped at the shirt a few times before laying the soap back on her table. She dipped the said shirt into the water and then rubbed it against the scrub board.
All her life, well most of it, she had worked as a slave. Sold off into the market without a second thought by the head mistress of the orphanage down the road. She hated that place. She remembered the old worn out beds and the air conditioning always on. The blankets were never enough to keep every child warm from the witching hour.
The slave market however was worse. There were three different groups in the slave market: the younglings, the teens and the adults. She was transferred into the adult group when she turned eighteen. In the late spring and early summer she would worked out in the fields and help with the sewing. In the winter and early spring she helped with the cooking and the laundry. It was a labor that never stopped or ceased for anyone.
If you were sick you would be taken into quarantine for a few weeks before released to work again. If you had a wound that got infected you were out of the slave market and thrown out in the streets to fend for yourself. Constance didn't want that. She didn't know how to take care of herself. She only knew how to live life as a slave, to work for food and water, to rest and then wake up for work. That was her life and everything else on the outside was alien to her.
Pausing for a moment she glanced up at the Warden running his rounds to check up on the slaves. He was only here for protocol or for selling a slave to a customer. She chewed on her lower lip nervously. The thought of being sold sounded like a dream, but what if it turned into a nightmare? She heard of some slaves, particulary women, sold into prostitution. She didn't want to be a woman to use her body for dark pleasures for others. She was afraid of that. No not afraid, but terrified of it. She felt a cold chill run down her spine and she couldn't help but shiver.
Putting the shirt up on a hanger with a couple of clips to keep it in place in the soft breeze; she grabbed another dirty shirt from the basket and continued her cleaning.
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Posted: Thu May 13, 2010 8:39 pm
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Drakoutetsu was making his usual rounds around the town. The clinking and whirring of his mechanical parts were rather loud and could be heard from about fifteen feet away. Just gotta head to the market and get a slave or two... Father said that the house was getting rather dirty... He kept his mind locked on what he had to do as he jingled a few gold coins in his pocket. His wings were kept folded behind his back and stood short in comparison to those of the other dragonoids. Just to the market and back that's all. His eyes shifted from left to right, back to the left, then again to the right. He didn't trust the people around him, nor did he have any reason to. He was a halfling. The only reason the people in the village showed him any respect was his royal blood. He was cautious almost all the time. Left, right, left, right. He was aware of the looks he received. He knew that the fact he was just a halfling would attract attention, the addition of his metal limbs didn't help his self-consciousness. He heard the whispers. "Look at him." "Dirty halfling." "He's lucky that he's royalty, otherwise he'd be dead." Small beads of sweat began to form and drip down his forehead and cheeks when finally, he arrived at the slave tent. Finally... Here...
He lifted the side of the tent, ducked his head underneath and proceeded to enter. He was greeted by the warden of the camp.
"Er, uhm. Wha'd ya wan'?"
Drakoutetsu winced. The warden's accent was unbearable for royalty such as himself. "Uhm, hello good fellow, I was wondering if I may take a look--" The man rudely interrupted with a big wad of spit towards the corner of the room. Drakoutetsu held back a gag. "Er... Take a look at you wares."
"Sure boy, follow me."
The warden led the boy through the tent. There was oddly more room than there appeared. Left and right, there were women hunched over in corners, cleaning, cooking, sewing, among many other things. "UNH!... NO!..." The voice caught his attention and he glanced in the corner. One of the workers in the tent was on top of one of the younger slave girls. Drakoutetsu winced a little but continued along right behind the warden. It wasn't unusual to see happenings such as this happening within the slave tent. Sometimes, more than one of the workers would gang up on one girl. He observed many other slaves at work within the tent. The sight of one girl hunched over a basin quietly scrubbing away at some articles of clothing caught his eye. "Her." Drakoutetsu pointed at the elven woman. "I want that one. How much?"
"Er, fi'teen gold'ns should d'it fer dis wench."
Drako dug around his pocket and pulled out two platinum coins. "Keep the change." The warden picked the young elf girl up by the arm and tossed her towards Drako.
"'Ere ya are."
Drako caught the girl in his arms and picked her up and set her right on her feet. "So what is your name?" He looked at her inquisitively as a handful of dark thoughts ran through his head of what he should do with the wench later that night. |
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Posted: Thu May 13, 2010 9:30 pm
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Constance paid no mind around her, but when the sound of a woman's pleas for a worker to stop she didn't dare look up. The fear of seeing the man on top of the helpless woman was too much for her to bear. She didn't want to be in a cruel situation like that. She came close to having a guard pinning her to a table, but he was called off before he could make his assault. She got off lucky on that one. If there was some kind of God he must've reached down for her and plucked the man away.
She was about to straighten herself to get an uncomfortable kink out of her spine when a rough hand grabbed her arm causing her to yelp. The pull of the said hand shoved her away from her work. Her weight anchored her to crash into a large chest, which luckily stopped her fall, but the unknown man she slammed into didn't look at all friendly to her.
She took a hesitant, fear-filled step back out of the man's grip. She almost gasped at the sight of him. The man didn't even look close to being human from the mechanical limbs and the glowing right eye. The texture of his hands felt odd on her arms when he set her up right. His left was a normal limb while the other was a mechanical one. The odd mixture of warmth and cold felt strange to feel at the same time. He asked her something...her name. He wanted to know her name. She watched him for a moment noticing that he seemed to be studying her. Probably whether or not if she was a good, hard worker. Trying to take a step back, again she was interrupted with a sharp pain on her knee causing her to kneel infront of him.
"Le'rn to bow to yer master an' sho' some respect, elf!" The weary old slave keeper sighed. "She's mute, sir. She rar'ly ever speaks, but only to people she knows. Her name's...damn...Oh! Constance, that's right."
Constance wanted to lunge at the Warden and tear him to pieces for treating her like this. The primal rage within wanted to be released from its chains and attack, but the other part of her brain, the civilized part, wanted to hold back and let it pass. She shouldn't fight back or show any kind of disobedience or disrespect to her superiors. Such things would give her thirty lashings, a punishment she did not want to repeat again. The memory of her teenage self spitting at a guard for slapping her cheek when she slacked off for too long. She was taken to the stand and whipped in front of everyone. She could remember the cackling faces of the guards, the barking laughter of the warden and the pitied. worried faces of the slaves all watching her suffer.
Such a memory should've been forgotten but she kept it as a warning to herself so she wouldn't repeat a disrespectful act. She bowed her head in respect to her new master. This man didn't look like someone to anger or even disobey. She chewed on her lower lip and readjusted her other knee to lay it down on the ground with her other. Now she didn't feel so awkward for her respect towards him. She didn't know what was going to happen or what will happen but this man had her future and more importantly her life. It was in his hands now. She shivered at the akward silence between him and her except the warden's introduction of her.
She knew how to speak, but she rarely ever felt like it. The rare times whenever she felt like talking was only to acquaintences in the market, but sometimes a guard would get angered at her silence. He would beat her until she replied with a 'yes sir' or 'no sir'. Constance blinked several times, forcing herself to return to the hard reality in front of her. The man didn't seem to move much but he did seem uncomfortable in this place. Who wouldn't be? This place was so god forsaken no one should even bother coming near.
"I guar'tee she's one of me best workers. She haz never caused any prob'ems," The warden cleared his throat and spat at the ground, "She's a decent one she is."
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