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Anders stands on a sidewalk, his back leaning against an old brick building. Pedestrians pass by in either direction, deep in their quests of business or pleasure. He let out a sigh and lit a cigarette. The phone rang. He accepts the call, yet says nothing. No hello is warranted. He has no...

Haha, yeah. It is what it is.

Codename: Anders. Age: 30. Race: American. Personality: Cold. Decisive. A man of few words. Group: Templar. Rank:Pro Backstory: Codename Anders is a Templar operative, and an agent of chaos. He's been behind many modern events of political intrigue (Assassination, Espionage, etc.) to...

Join peoplez!

I was just bumping the post. :)

Ya'll hear about that bump in the night? ;P

Thanks. :D And hahaha, I'll have to make a small edit then. ;P

Name: Maxwell Cervantes Age(must be 18+): 23 Gender: Male Race and/or Nationality: American, Irish ancestry. Personality: Maxwell is disciplined, and rational for the most part, if a bit too curious. Fair, which isn't necessarily a good thing, as he can seem quite severe if you get on...

Word up, Bree. Looking forward to it. :big grin:

I like it. I'd like to hear more about it. Interested. :D

Durant leans over the bar at the six fishes inn. "A mead if you will, good man." The barkeep slides an iron mug towards the Breton with an odd look. Durant cocks his head slightly from the publican's expression. 'What the.' He thinks, turning his gaze toward Staada. 'I suppose it's just the...

Greenskin, Black heart.

Hello, and welcome to Rpn! Nice to meet you! :big grin:

Hi there! Welcome to Rpn. Nice to meet you, smiley. ;D

Welcome to strangeland! Aka Rpn. Hope you enjoy your stay. :D

Definitely willing to give it a shot.

War sits cross-legged upon a broad tree stump amid an expansive meadow speckled with lumbering evergreens. He sits, almost as if to meditate, but he merely stares vacantly ahead, his mind wandering. The cavity he had created on impact lay behind him a ways, and a stream sways through the...

I'll do an asylum, hit me up.

'You didn't answer my question.' Durant thinks to himself as he follows the gilded figure through the streets. He listens to the distant sounds of market chatter, tools clanking, and waves slapping against the masonry. As they pass through an oaken door and under a sign that reads "Six Fishes...

Durant steps out from below deck with a slightly drunken demeanor. He throws his arms up into a long stretch, mead in hand. Whilst listening to the golden-clad, giant of a woman and her various onlookers, he quickly drains the bottle. With a final gulp, he throws the emptied bottle to the side...