Pixl

Forgot to listen to them

Yeah, like that innate urge to kill

Their hair is also in the same direction. Like there's some fabulous cyber-wind going about.

Is it your intention to update everyone's progressions (as many as possible) at once when you post or is that just coincidence for when you have already gathered up what you will post?

If you can, try a white marble texture. That way, it wouldn't be just one solid weird white color (imagining it white in my head just looks strange), and it fits in with the colors of the Citae Arc-d'Astrae Aerie

Finally someone who understands. I eat half a pie for dessert and then the other half for breakfast in the morning (probably my favorite thing to eat for breakfast, actually) <3 Anyway, this might end up being an anticlimactic question if "no" is the answer but, have you ever been close to dying?

My sneezes are wonderful and quiet and just sound like me blowing air out of my nose really quickly. Anyway, people who think they're too important to signal a lane switch. People who are driving slow in the left lane. Consequently, people who drive slowly in the left lane, and then speed up when you try to pass them in the right. Like seriously goddamn it's not personal I just need to get somewhere. Those people that think they're right in an argument and try to sound smart by pointing out your logical fallacies when they don't even use the definitions of logical fallacies properly. The word "cajole". People who ride your ass on the freeway. I'M ALREADY GOING 8 OVER THE LIMIT WHAT MORE DO YOU WANT FROM ME. ...And sorry to you with your bad sneezes (but you might not do this), but I have an issue with people who have huge sneezes (not noise, but the amount of particles that come out), and do nothing to contain it. Especially if it's on me. Or in my general vicinity. If I breathe in and I can smell that awful terrible smell of sneeze-y air particles, then I'm going to have a really bad time. People who think they're the only ones to think something. White Knights. The existence of every other driver on the road.

Gavriil opened his eyes, slowly. His vision was blurred, but he could make out the shapes of a group of people around him. There was also a dim buzzing sound in the air. Gavriil's eyebrows furrowed as he gradually regained his functions. He was, of course, not completely himself, but he could at the very least perceive the world around him more clearly. The shapes became people, and the buzzing died down. Then he noticed a girl, around his age--they were all around his age, now that he thought about it, but he could not bring himself to look away from her--with very distinctly blue hair and eyes. Gavriil was mesmerized by them; the girl was the most pleasant thing he could look at now, despite her expression. Her tone and choice of words did not indicate that she had any fondness of his recovery. It took a moment to register her words before he could answer. "Ehh... About... the journey, here?" Gavriil asked as a method of reiterating the question to allow himself more processing time. "I remember being left for dead in a field... accepting my death... being picked up..." His voice trailed off. That was clearly the last instance he could think of. For someone of Russian background, his English was very good, and his slight accent did not detract from any comprehension of it. This was due to part of his upbringing in the mafia; they had him educated on a colorful variety of subjects, all intended to help him with his missions, English being one of them. The boy looked around again. All eyes were on him. He was slightly uncomfortable from this, but he managed to ask, "Where... am I?"

Honestly I don't like the crossbow thing. It doesn't really fit his character. But I looked at the other characters (other than Alexus's), and sort of assumed it'd be better to have a ranged weapon as an option. Otherwise, it probably would have been like a combat knife and his fists.

Better late than never I suppose. Name: Gavriil Markovic (gah-vree-EEL MAR-ko-vich) Gender: Male Age: 18 (Born 10 December 1996) _______________________________________________________________________________________________________ Appearance, normal: An imposing figure at about 6'2" in height, Gavriil is broad-chested and well-built. He keeps his blond hair in a close buzz cut that accentuates his sharp Slavic features; his jawline is pronounced and his piercing, blue eyes aptly convey his serious nature. His face naturally falls into an un-amused and far-away expression that gives the impression that he is in deep thought. Gavriil normally wears steel-toed combat boots, faded black cargo pants, and a gunmetal tank top that does well to show off his defined muscles. However, he tends to wear a black combat jacket over it. Appearance, transformed: A 'roid rage in the extreme sense of the term, Gavriil's build explodes with strength, even going so far as to create a loud, booming sound. He is generally conscientious of it, but if he forgets to remove his jacket prior to transforming, it is torn to shreds by his expanding stature. In this form, his tank top is a tight fit, defining the contours of his pectoral and abdominal muscles as well as his latissimus dorsi. Gavriil's blond hair even grows out to reach the small of his back after turning a bright white color, though he finds this physical trait pointless and cumbersome. Personality: A quiet and serious fellow, Gavriil has a strong grip on reality and a developed sense of critical thinking. Because of these traits, his comments and suggestions are usually rational and meaningful, when he does choose to voice them. _______________________________________________________________________________________________________ Weapons of choice: Giant flail (materialized), heavy combat knife (carried), fists Power origin: Induction Faction: Protectors _______________________________________________________________________________________________________ Backstory: Gavriil was born the only child of Russian farmers, and as such was trained as a farmhand from an early age. He was a rowdy but obedient child, and thoroughly enjoyed the small wonders of life. He was doted on by his parents, especially his mother, and was quite content with his life at home. Because of his family's status, Gavriil did not go to school in favor of working on the farm. On a certain occasion, Gavriil was busy tending to the animals in the barn when several dark sedans with tinted windows rolled into the farmstead. The boy, then just ten years old, was not present to witness a group of serious-faced men in expensive business suits step out of those cars; he was not present to witness those men walk up to the house's door and knock; he was not present to witness his father opening the door, shooting a panicked glance at his son's location, and shouting a command behind him to his wife, who was in the kitchen, doing the dishes from lunch just fifteen minutes prior; he was not present to witness his father in such a pitiful state, pleading with the men over some important matter; and he was not present to witness one man pull out a gun, press it against the forehead of the begging man, who at this point had tears running down his cheeks, and pull the trigger. The boy did, however, hear the explosion of the gunshot. His heart sunk at the noise and he dropped the feeding pail he was carrying around to the horses. He had to be wrong. Nothing bad happened. He was just making sure. Yes, making sure. the boy ran outside, nearly tripping over his own feet. It was then that he heard his mother scream. Nothing bad happened. Nothing bad happened... right? He saw the cars in front of the house. He saw the men walking from the door to their vehicles, one with a smoking gun in hand. Something bad happened. The boy screamed. The men were caught off-guard for a moment; they had forgotten there was a son. But the boy darted between them faster than they could react. He was already in the house--the house that they had tossed a molotov cocktail into. In the doorway, the boy found the figure of his father. He stood in shock, open-mouthed. His eyes then panned over to the kitchen, where his mother lay. The tears started gushing. The boy ran to the collapsed figure of his mother, hugging her tightly. Perhaps it was the grief ringing in his ears or the tears pouring out of his eyes that distracted him from the growing fire that was hungrily devouring the house. Perhaps he just didn't care; he wanted to be with his mother. He cried and cried over her body as the devil's flames spread and spread. Then he felt someone prying him away from his dearest mother. He screamed and held her tighter, but the arms around him were stronger than his arms, weak with grief, could hold on. The boy kept crying for his mother and father as the scene before him rushed away. He felt as if his entire life was running away from him. The last thing he could remember of that day was being thrown into the back of a dark car. The ten year-old boy grew to seventeen in the Russian mafia. He was trained to be ruthless and cold, which was not a difficult task for he was already hardened by the deaths of his parents. Gavriil became one of the group's most talented agents, carrying out operations with precision and ease. His physical stature grew to great proportions through intensive training, perhaps finally living up to his namesake. Though he was the youngest member of the mafia, he began to gain more respect than some of his older comrades held. However, it was not long before he took on a job that was out of his league; he was to eliminate a prominent boss of a rival organization. Alone. Needless to say, his target, being well-acquainted with the mafia world, was aware of the hit taken out on him, and had appropriately prepared for the moment someone should come for him. Gavriil found himself captured, tortured, and left in the middle of an abandoned wheat field to die. He thought it ironically appropriate, that he should die as a mafia member on a farm. But fate had not yet had her satisfaction from his existence; a shadow approached and loomed over the battered and broken boy. He could not hear perfectly, but there was definitely some sound coming from the source of the shadow. Gavriil felt his body being picked up. Searing pain transformed into numbness, which transformed into a different, odd feeling. The pain was going away. It was not being masked, it was actually going away. The rush of senses Gavriil felt overwhelmed his mind as he whited out. Gavriil awoke in a room with strange people. Not a face among them did he recognize. According to one of those around him, he had undergone a conversion process of sorts while he was out. The people of whom he was in the presence were of an organization known as the Protectors, and they had saved him; they also found some latent potential in him to become one among their ranks, which they discovered through his healing process. None of this meant a thing to the bewildered boy. But he would just have to learn to accept that, as his life would soon be changed forever, for a second time.

Eeeeewwwww Flint Lock Loops are evil and the worsssst. I only have a problem because of how they basically timestall the turn they do the loop because you want as much LP as possible of course. If it could do all that in like 2 seconds then fine. It's not too broken because once your Ancient Sacred Wyvern and Fire Princess are gone, you're open to attacks pretty much despite how much life you have, or it can be stopped before it even starts with the right cards. It's a fun build, sure, but I don't think it's that consistent. You sure this is the only deck you want to run?

Like Gaunt, my first reaction was to go on Showdown. When I saw no one panicking there, I realized it was a joke. I stuck around 'til someone else came on worrying about it, and people told them to click on the logo, so I just followed suit.

Pretty much. All I was going to say would have been to go officer. It's a way better life than starting enlisted. Air Force was my chosen route too, so we'll see how that works out, but that should be your first try. They have more money in general, and especially if you're CIS I'm sure you could find something.

My boring life has no plans for this weekend so I'm completely free I'll find a way to pass the time.

Tropius

America's not the only country in the world. Plus, it's Fern Day, not April Fool's Day. We have Fern Day whenever we want.

It's not a bandwagon if it's choosing to roll with the top dogs 'cause you're smart enough to recognize we're better than all those losers out there.

Azurine Lake theme? Are you talking about the island or Apophyll Beach? I know the beach is a remix of the Sea of Time from a Mystery Dungeon game. And that would be titled Atmosphere - Fluid and is apparently a GlitchxCity one. Anyway I enjoy Wild Battle 2 and Atmosphere- Bright

You can't just escape from Fern. You're not good enough. Simple as that. We're the top dogs, you're the losers.

And then you look closer and see the post count.

Well I mean Setsuna was going there for a while but kept running into things

"her"? Ice Queen could also be a drag queen