<style type="text/css">
.freeB5 b {font-weight:bold; color:#ffae2b; letter-spacing:1px; }
.ooc { font-style:italic; padding:0px; font-family:verdana, sans-serif; font-size:10px;}
.freeB5 p {text-indent:25px; padding:5px 10px; margin:0px;}
.freeB5 {width:400px;border:1px solid #ab2400;background-image:url(http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v26/K ... free-5.png);background-position:top center;background-repeat:no-repeat;padding-top:245px;background-color:#000000;text-align:justify;margin:10px;font-family:Verdana, sans-serif;font-size:10px;line-height:12px;color:#ab2400;}
</style>
Yeah, For Seymon- Branch off of Sherman's March to the Sea
WHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!! the wicked high-pitched laugh of the coy-dog's voice rang through the air as he ran rampant. There was fire everywhere! He continued to send the cocktails from his arms, the firey and icy gaze of the male turning into something almost manic looking. Fire, burn, burn BURN. The flames were Dancing, and he felt like he was the devil for once. He felt empowered. He wanted the whole plain to be burned down. He wanted more and more of the land consumed with flames. He had long lost sight of his leader and back up by now, simply because he was the one who was supposed to be setting fires. He'd return when he needed to. For now, he was running around, being a maniac with setting aflame the village. LET IT ALL BURN! the coy-dog screamed out, throwing the last two out into the distance. It was then, something hit him.
It was a rock? Cotl got hit with another one before he realized that there was someone dahlian not far off, throwing them. Cotl growled and finally drew his sword. There was another rock heading straight for him, bigger than some of the others, and it hit him right in the middle of his forehead. Cotl stopped for a moment and his hand went to his head. Ouch! the male let out a yelp before he had stumbled back and shook his head. The impact wasn't hard enough for him to be knocked out, but it sure did give him a headache. Cotl growled again before focusing on the form of the one who threw the rocks and he charged, the weight of the cocktails being lifted from his shoulders since he had finished throwing them. He was swift, and in matters of seconds, Cotl was up at the other, his sword dancing through the air before him, slashing at the other male. The other better be quicker than he was.