04-14-2019, 10:50 PM
[align=center][div style="borderwidth; width: 400px; padding: 1px; text-align: justify; color: #4B3E2D; line-height: 14px; font-size: 11pt; font-family:timesnewroman"]"speech" 'thought' text
tw: mentions alcohol, blood, profanity, violence, religion
Should he be on crutches? Probably, was he? No. Even though he'd been shot in the leg, it wasn't like he was completely incapable of doing things. After all, he was a soldier, he could work through the pain, or soldier on as it were. Mike was tired though, he hadn't slept much that night, and the bags under his eyes were heavy. However, that was something most people in the Badlands had grown accustomed to he was sure.
And even on a little sleep he was still alert (if not a bit unstable). Michael frowned as he hobbled over, looking a bit out of place with his obvious limp, and favoritism of his leg, which was shot. The man sighed deeply, and leaned against the closest available building for support, which was, coincidentally right next to him. It was almost like he stopped right by the corner of a building to lean on it, but that couldn't be completely accurate!
"That's right ya pansies. So if ya got any complains about being injured, fucking save them, I don't want to hear it. If you're fighting for your life, you're not gonna be able to tip your cap and say "sorry but I'm injured, I'll just jaunt off" so get that through your fucking heads." Was he cheerful today? Well, his words did not sound very cheerful, or positive, but in truth he was actually looking forward to the spar with Sheo, even with an injured leg, he was still an adept instructor.
And it would further drill the image of him as a badass, fearless, strong soldier into the minds of the badlands. Even without weapons, even as a worm he was still intimidating, he still was able to crush someone's skull, he could break their spine or hand or neck. Bottom line, lesson to learn, just don't mess with Michael Ford.
tw: mentions alcohol, blood, profanity, violence, religion
Should he be on crutches? Probably, was he? No. Even though he'd been shot in the leg, it wasn't like he was completely incapable of doing things. After all, he was a soldier, he could work through the pain, or soldier on as it were. Mike was tired though, he hadn't slept much that night, and the bags under his eyes were heavy. However, that was something most people in the Badlands had grown accustomed to he was sure.
And even on a little sleep he was still alert (if not a bit unstable). Michael frowned as he hobbled over, looking a bit out of place with his obvious limp, and favoritism of his leg, which was shot. The man sighed deeply, and leaned against the closest available building for support, which was, coincidentally right next to him. It was almost like he stopped right by the corner of a building to lean on it, but that couldn't be completely accurate!
"That's right ya pansies. So if ya got any complains about being injured, fucking save them, I don't want to hear it. If you're fighting for your life, you're not gonna be able to tip your cap and say "sorry but I'm injured, I'll just jaunt off" so get that through your fucking heads." Was he cheerful today? Well, his words did not sound very cheerful, or positive, but in truth he was actually looking forward to the spar with Sheo, even with an injured leg, he was still an adept instructor.
And it would further drill the image of him as a badass, fearless, strong soldier into the minds of the badlands. Even without weapons, even as a worm he was still intimidating, he still was able to crush someone's skull, he could break their spine or hand or neck. Bottom line, lesson to learn, just don't mess with Michael Ford.
[align=center]
MICHAEL FORD
Michael Ford is a 45 year old, man, he's stubbornly loyal to whatever cause he chooses, protective of his family and friends, he's a member of the Badlands. Michael has issues controlling his anger in most situations. He is a difficult opponent and well trained, feel free to power play nonviolent interactions though.