04-05-2020, 02:26 PM
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[glow=grey,2,300]JONATHAN CROW -- TAGS[/glow]
This was it. He recognized the Badlands' coastal town well enough. He had been here before, to cause chaos and destruction, nightmares in the minds of the residents. Jonathan wondered if there was anyone left from those amusing times, when Parks led unchallenged, when Sheogorath was an infamous prince, a prince he had brought to his knees. Oh how Jonathan savored that memory. It all came rushing back the moment he stepped out of the mountainous pass, and saw the seaside city down the grassy, tree covered hill below, where pearly sands once stained in his enemy's blood now touched peaceful ocean waters.
Jonathan's face was wrapped in passive stoicism, a firm neutrality that revealed nothing of the turmoil that flooded his twisted mind. His deep blue eyes reflected the world around him, soul piercing and intense as charcoal pupils scanned peaceful surroundings. Birdsong filled the afternoon air, the scent of salt drifting toward him upon the coastal breeze. Jonathan didn't stop at the border. Perhaps he should have, but confidence had always been both his blessing, and his curse. With dark boots crunching through the gritty soil underfoot, the dark haired man continued onward toward the seaside town. He wouldn't stop until he was made to.
Overall, he looked quite normal, though he was far from it. He wore a large backpack, which held his costume and supplies, and upon his back was a scythe, polished and sharpened by passionate hands. The blade glinted over his right shoulder, but it wasn't his only weapon. Sheathed at his hips were several blades, from small knives to large daggers. His loose fitting white shirt failed to conceal the weaponry, but Jonathan didn't mind. He liked it when other people thought he was dangerous. On his left shoulder sat a dark feathered bird, tethered by a small, custom made leash that wrapped the little beast's leg. It was a crow, with beady eyes that seemed to dart about the world curiously. For the most part, Jonathan was ignoring the creature. At least in that moment, when his focus was on other things. He could shower Icky with affection later. He and the crow had had a long and tiring trip.
Jonathan paused beneath a looming tree, it's cool shade falling across his pale skinned frame. For a moment, he merely rested there, taking in the view, and restoring his breath. His legs ached beneath him, but still he carried on. The former leader of Flintlock Lodge was no stranger to hardship. Holding back a yawn, for he had journeyed through the night, Jonathan began to move once more, continuing down the slope toward the coastal town, and while his features were stoic, his stride oozed confidence.
thes code
This was it. He recognized the Badlands' coastal town well enough. He had been here before, to cause chaos and destruction, nightmares in the minds of the residents. Jonathan wondered if there was anyone left from those amusing times, when Parks led unchallenged, when Sheogorath was an infamous prince, a prince he had brought to his knees. Oh how Jonathan savored that memory. It all came rushing back the moment he stepped out of the mountainous pass, and saw the seaside city down the grassy, tree covered hill below, where pearly sands once stained in his enemy's blood now touched peaceful ocean waters.
Jonathan's face was wrapped in passive stoicism, a firm neutrality that revealed nothing of the turmoil that flooded his twisted mind. His deep blue eyes reflected the world around him, soul piercing and intense as charcoal pupils scanned peaceful surroundings. Birdsong filled the afternoon air, the scent of salt drifting toward him upon the coastal breeze. Jonathan didn't stop at the border. Perhaps he should have, but confidence had always been both his blessing, and his curse. With dark boots crunching through the gritty soil underfoot, the dark haired man continued onward toward the seaside town. He wouldn't stop until he was made to.
Overall, he looked quite normal, though he was far from it. He wore a large backpack, which held his costume and supplies, and upon his back was a scythe, polished and sharpened by passionate hands. The blade glinted over his right shoulder, but it wasn't his only weapon. Sheathed at his hips were several blades, from small knives to large daggers. His loose fitting white shirt failed to conceal the weaponry, but Jonathan didn't mind. He liked it when other people thought he was dangerous. On his left shoulder sat a dark feathered bird, tethered by a small, custom made leash that wrapped the little beast's leg. It was a crow, with beady eyes that seemed to dart about the world curiously. For the most part, Jonathan was ignoring the creature. At least in that moment, when his focus was on other things. He could shower Icky with affection later. He and the crow had had a long and tiring trip.
Jonathan paused beneath a looming tree, it's cool shade falling across his pale skinned frame. For a moment, he merely rested there, taking in the view, and restoring his breath. His legs ached beneath him, but still he carried on. The former leader of Flintlock Lodge was no stranger to hardship. Holding back a yawn, for he had journeyed through the night, Jonathan began to move once more, continuing down the slope toward the coastal town, and while his features were stoic, his stride oozed confidence.
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[b]IT'S DR. HORRIBLE'S TURN, YOU WILL ALL HAVE TO LEARN
THIS WORLD IS GOING TO BURN. HERE GOES NO MERCY.
[font=verdana][sub]jonathan crow [color=black]/ the scarecrow / badlands officer / avatar by mistress of fearTHIS WORLD IS GOING TO BURN. HERE GOES NO MERCY.