GhostMOO: Friends?

Many people in the Wasteland. Though genetically closer to you than a cainid, they're equally as likely to rip out your throat. Here are a few of the more sociable ones.


She was born with a shimmering blue skin that faded to a pale white after she reached puberty. She is quite agile and strong despite seeming otherwise. Bright blue eyes seem to reflect the color of the ocean where she is most at home.


You see a player who should type '@describe me as ...'.


Dante is a looming noble draped in various robes, cloaks and capes of varying shades and sizes. Standing at a towering 6'6 he seems to have one of those ageless faces you can never guess at; He is deathly pale with wild silver hair falling nearly to his shoulders. His eyes are oddly colored, one a cold black, the other yellow, both gleam with a certain hint of arrogance, emotions flowing across his face like waves in the sea.


Before you is a male fox recomb. He is rather short and thin, and looks to be a bit on the frail side. He has the normal coloring of a fox, with majority of his fur being red, his underside and tailtip being white.


A tall, noble-looking submariner. His silvery hair is cropped short over calm grey eyes. A stylized clown is tattooed on his shoulder, signifying his jail gang affiliation.


Despite being a Magistra, FoxFire relies mostly on her skills, particularly archery. Her deep green eyes tell of a loving spirit and a willingness to help. Lover of Skywalker, teacher of Rill, she enjoys being surrounded by friends and will stand up for them. Among other things, she does tend to instigate fights among rivals.


Long black hair, disheveled and dirty, covers his face. Bright green eyes peer into your soul resembling pools of pureness. A sense of deja vous overcomes you.


Kijindei, The first son of the magister Devon and the dragonmistress Yalindra. Kind, youthful, this young man found himself to have been sheltered on the summit of Mount Morlith for most of his life. Now he seek adventure and to find his true purpose at the edge of a sword out in the world below.


Matt is very pretty.


The fat cat on the mat
  may seem to dream
of nice mice that suffice
  for him, or cream;
but he free, maybe,
  walks in thought
unbowed, proud, where loud
  roared and fought
his kin, lean and slim,
  or deep in den
in the East feasted on beasts
  and tender men.
The giant lion with iron
  claw in paw,
and huge ruthless tooth
  in gory jaw;
the pard dark-starred,
  fleet upon feet,
that oft soft from aloft
  leaps upon his meat
where woods loom in gloom --
  far now they be,
  fierce and free,
  and tamed is he;
but fat cat on the mat
  kept as a pet
  he does not forget.


Tall, tanned and lean, with a ready smile and slightly affected way of speaking.


Redfang, "Lord of the Wasteland!"


Restin is an remnant of a time before the world moved on. He is a fighter, trained in many areas of combat. Quick with a blade, and deadly enough still unarmed. He spends his days hunting for crystals, and an ever increasing challenge. He is often heard singing the lyrics to a long since forgotten war song. You see me now a veteran; Of a thousand psychic wars; I've been living on the edge so long; Where the winds of limbo roar; And Im young enough to look at; And far to old to see; All the scars are on the inside; and Im not sure if theres anything left of me. Restins hooded head conceals his many scars earned in the line of duty, for his fellow man. Yet you still notice a glint in his eye that warns you to be wary. Restin is quick to laugh, and quick to fight, Friends will be defended to the end; Enemies will suffer his wrath.


Perhaps seventeen, small and stubborn and trying desperately to look tougher than she is.


Mysterious, alluring, an enigma. Pandora's box...


You see a tall man of submariner descent. Light plays strangely off of the steely-grey irises of his eyes, causing them to glitter with an inhuman, metallic brilliance. Above them, bushy dark eyebrows seem to be arched in perpetual curiosity. Fine lines crease his forehead and fringe the corners of his eyes, the years starting to show in his face. His high-set cheekbones, squared jaw, and drawn-out chin create a stoic and rigid expression at first glance. On either side of his neck are several large, horizontal slits that resemble the gills of a shark. His azure skin is visible on his clean-shaven face, yet something about his features is strikingly oriental.


I don't have a problem, You have a problem.

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