08-11-2011, 03:25 PM
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OOC: WOOT!
WC:300+
Although it was quite late into the night the warrior found himself engulfed in a book. Leaning back in his comfy chair he flipped through the pages that explained the education system of the humans. It seemed to be rather flawed for a program entrusted with young ones. At this time of night the Library was barren except for the odd scamper of little mice feet on the wooden floors. He read by the light of an oil lantern, which he had retrieved from a Halifax shop quite some time ago. His peace was shattered by a continuous howl. ‘Tony!’ The voice was unmistakable. Alarm and confusing spun through Jazper’s mind as he quickly jumped to his feet.
Rushing to action the Centurio Hurried to the painting, which lead to his collection of weapons and human merchandise. His fingers shook as he turned the number lock, “Shit.” He swore as he pulled on the frame and it didn’t move,. Adjusting the numbers one more time he yanked the frame open and rushed to his weapon storage. As fast as his hands could move he began he prepared for war. Strapping a belt around his waist he loaded on a couple of daggers on the front and two smaller swords on each side. Running back up the stairs he swung his own medieval styled heavy sword onto his back.
His feet moved quickly Tony’s frame never leaving his mind. As he ran the warriors ears perked up and his tail remained raised with alarm. He could still hear Tony’s howl as it continued to raise the alarm. Instincts kicking in the father joined his son’s alarm, allowing his own deep to to cut through the night air. He had to reach his son. Whoever caused the alarm had clearly frightened the boy enough to continue his call and Jazper was ready to defend the land with his life.
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OOC: WOOT!
WC:300+
Although it was quite late into the night the warrior found himself engulfed in a book. Leaning back in his comfy chair he flipped through the pages that explained the education system of the humans. It seemed to be rather flawed for a program entrusted with young ones. At this time of night the Library was barren except for the odd scamper of little mice feet on the wooden floors. He read by the light of an oil lantern, which he had retrieved from a Halifax shop quite some time ago. His peace was shattered by a continuous howl. ‘Tony!’ The voice was unmistakable. Alarm and confusing spun through Jazper’s mind as he quickly jumped to his feet.
Rushing to action the Centurio Hurried to the painting, which lead to his collection of weapons and human merchandise. His fingers shook as he turned the number lock, “Shit.” He swore as he pulled on the frame and it didn’t move,. Adjusting the numbers one more time he yanked the frame open and rushed to his weapon storage. As fast as his hands could move he began he prepared for war. Strapping a belt around his waist he loaded on a couple of daggers on the front and two smaller swords on each side. Running back up the stairs he swung his own medieval styled heavy sword onto his back.
His feet moved quickly Tony’s frame never leaving his mind. As he ran the warriors ears perked up and his tail remained raised with alarm. He could still hear Tony’s howl as it continued to raise the alarm. Instincts kicking in the father joined his son’s alarm, allowing his own deep to to cut through the night air. He had to reach his son. Whoever caused the alarm had clearly frightened the boy enough to continue his call and Jazper was ready to defend the land with his life.
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