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Puranetto Ueivuzu

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About Puranetto Ueivuzu

  • Rank
    Roleplay Wizard
  • Birthday

Profile Information

  • Gender
    manly manly man
  • Location
    your ass
  • Interests
    help me
  • Occupation
    im knuckles

Recent Profile Visitors

857 profile views
  1. "Beard...c'mere!" Undae's speech impediment is a thing of adorableness and tediousness, the mistakes making learning hard for her. She beckons to Matthias, and instead of waiting for him, goes over to him, and presses her shoulder blades onto him, leaning on him, and holding up the strand of black hair. A most wondrous and puzzling sight was inside her bangs. In the underside of that lock of hair, as the image of the owl. It produced a hoot, and itched its right wing with its beak. Several seconds later, the real owl did the same exact thing. Matthias did not make a mistake. His seer was here, and Barayas had told the whole truth...Undae Mundi could see the near future! "Hoot hoot...den more hoot." The lack of surprise at the pop of the fire. She was testing the truth of her ability, even explaining it to Matthias! Undae's naivety and apparent foolishness wasn't something she was born with...she simply was never taught! In the isolation of the Cold Mountains, there was no need to learn how to speak to another..! She draws symbols in the air; WNDIE An attempt at spelling her name. The demon stops leaning on him, and walks up to the tree. She makes a 'boo' noise and the owl takes flight, and her gaze follows its path before it even takes off. Midflight, a scorching hot rock impales it, and attaches it to the forest floor...right in the middle of the fire, the owl now roasting half alive, choked burbles coming from the bird's beak, then nothing immediately after. Nothing, especially not flying game, was untouchable by Undae. Her asteroid calling ability seemed to be a hunting ability. The stones searched and found targets, and now, with her limited future sight, she could make her attacks a tiny bit more accurate. She approaches the burning corpse, and kneels next to it, reaching into the flames, and removing one feather, and in the other hand, two. Some white locks of hair droop into the flames, but do not even ignite! "Name for not same?" She holds up the different amounts of feathers. What is she asking Matthias to explain? In one hand, a single burning feather. In the other, a couple of them...
  2. "So you admit to it? You're a killer?" There is something so rare in this world. There has been good versus evil, evil against good. Even clashing ideas of goodness meet in honorable duels and heated debates in parliament halls. But what happens when evil is faced with evil? Not in the sense that the evil is faced with an evil too severe for their liking. But the concept of evils colliding. And, even more harrowing, the concept of an evil that does not know it is evil pitted against one that knows the evils he has done. "Good." What did he mean? His guards awaited the cue again, each taking a step toward the bar, the greaser looking one with an eye wide, other squinted, thinking on what Dick'd said for a moment. The piano is deafening, in the searing moment. Richard turns his back, and washes a glass. "It's an interesting method. It's a long range type of attack. The target gets themselves lost in delirium, and are found days later. That's the attack. And, if it gets the job done, then it works. It relies on surprise. But your method of attack is worthless if I don't drink something." "Your second method is using your guards. One of them has a dead eye, and I am behind a counter." "My method of attack is using others attacks against them. Do you like your drinks, doctor?" "If you had continued to be ambiguous on whether or not you were a killer, your next drink would have an antidote. You have collectively drank enough lead, hidden in the ice cubes at the bottom of your glass, to kill you. No one will know you have done this. You will be thought of as another victim in the string of poisonings. A plot twist. No one will ever really know of the great wickedness of the 'mad scientist' Frank Doro. "Let my inflection be crystal clear too, to your guards. Every single man in the west side of this establishment...is my mercenary. Everyone else is a customer. "The piano player has a machine gun under the bench. "Every single mercenary here thinks they are the only man watching me. My signal to be helped is flashing my middle finger in the face of who I want out of my way. Each one hired and told to come here on this date, and supervise a business deal. "Everyone will go home. Everyone will be paid. No one knows that twenty other people in their line of work, also working for me, are in this room. "I want you three gentlemen to leave, I want the good doctor to spend the last moments of his life in this bar." His severe face and intense stance makes some of the hired guns in the Harp Player look poised and ready to see the signal. One finger, and any of Doro's cronies, or the doctor himself would be blown away by any number of guns. It was debatable. You could run from one spray of rounds if you anticipated it, and it was one marksman with one gun, and you moved unpredictably and into blindspots or used human shields. But how well could any of them fare against two dozen gunmen? The sheer amount of ricocheting bullets whizzing about the bar would tear apart more than them. Bystanders, even Richard himself could die! Is Richard this crazy, to put his life in so much danger?! The song ends, and the piano player looks for a new song to play, while putting a hand under the bench, pretending to be adjusting himself to a more comfortable position. Francis's hands and feet tingled. He felt himself unable to properly focus or really think straight. Had his men left him or were they still by his side? Did he give them the cue to attack?! There wasn't a visible kind of signal for his lack of mental faculty. It felt like things were happening without Frank. The universe was going faster than he could. He was being left behind. It wasn't just inebriation. He was coming down with lead poisoning. Was this supposed to be irony? Some sort of universal justice? No. Richard didn't even really know that Francis had used lead to kill the tax collectors. The complex planning ended at the hiring of all the mercenaries. This was how petty it was. It was a convoluted, stupid trap. He had been outdone just by taking a sip. Francis's mind fought like any man's, and was lucid enough to hear Richard continue. "My second method of attack is outside help. Many fight one on one, or in clearly defined gang fights. There is some sense of honor or rules in even pub brawls. But it is very unexpected to run from your enemy in a crowd, and find that you've been stabbed by a man you knew had his hands in his pockets. It is devastating to be shot in the back of your head by a waiter, and never even really know how or why you died. It is a terrifying concept; which person do you dodge from? Am I lying? Is no one a hired gun? Is everyone, even the bouncers here to kill you if I want? Is there someone waiting for you outside just in case? Any face, smile, grimace, frown, shrug, sniffle, or just a blank face you didn't even think to look at could be your grim reaper." Francis sees Richard turn around, and go back to washing a glass. The fridge was ajar just a bit, and he could see that a plastic bag of ice cubes, next to the actual ice box. He took out the bag, zipped it up, and placed it on the counter. "Look at your death."
  3. Being in Athentha with Undae was...bizarre for Matthias. On the frigid island, he could see his own breath, and was covered up in cloak, cowl and clothing. But...Undae had torn the sleeves of the ragged prison jumpsuit, and even bared her shins and ankles to the slicing cold. It was understandable why he was not buffeted by the weather, but Undae seemed to not even know the cold was there, the stinging ice making direct contact with her skin, but no frost bit her! Setting up camp was Undae blundered pitching a tent, got stuck in a sleeping bag, and became angry with him for opening it. (And she still hasn't explained why.) There wasn't much rhyme or reason to Undae's actions. The meteor demon was currently staring at the long, black lock of hair she had, turning her head to see Matthias doing work such as boiling water, and becoming ecstatic for a couple seconds, then going back to squinting at the lock of hair. This was not to say Undae was insufferable. To help Matthias skip the step of casting spells, a chunk of flint for firestsrting flew down from above, and 'poofed' into the snow. The petite demon did her best to grab things Matthias needed for her, such as kindling, to which she heaved a big log to the camp after being absent for an alarming half hour! As for feelings, Undae remains ambiguous, and does not really reject nor accept Matthias's feelings, she will return a smile, but sitting next to Matthias is not something she will put up with for more than a minute. The closest they have been was that walk to the moon. How had they gone millions of miles upward in those couple minutes? Undae creeps up to the fire, and looks to it, then her lock of hair. The flames suddenly crack, an ember careening out, and landing at her feet. But she was more intrigued than surprised. No, there was no surprise at all... An owl hoots as the sun begins its descent, the sky a sickly violet and a nauseous orange. Looking up at the bird, she swivels to face Matthias, and asks "What are this?" @Warlock
  4. it's fine. personal life is higher priority than rp life, amirite?
  5. true, but i was just wondering if things generally sucked there or if the weather was nice and u could go outside on not have rain climbing down your face
  6. what is the usual weather and wind type (hard fast wind, soft cool breezes, or sweeping gales, or just chilly gusts) in terrenus?
  7. "THE CHURCH SENT ME TO SURVEIL THE ONE ARTICIA SPAKE OF. ARTICIA, OF THE DREAM, HAS NO BETTER LICH THAN I TO BE THE DIPLOMATIC HAND EXTENDED TO HIM." "AFTER ALL, IT IS BETTER TO HAVE NONHUMAN SPEAK TO NONHUMAN. MANY PRIESTS DECLINED THE MISSION." The skeleton parted his cloak, revealing servant's clothing, an itchy looking cowl, a dark set of trousers and boots, and the standout myriad of bands and buttons holding the double breasted jacket together. On his right breast, the sigil of a turtle, with a hawk's face, clutching the axe he held, gleaming, the bronze medallion an object of pride. "TURTLE HAWK EXECUTIONER. MY ONLY WORK IS TO STARE AT AND RECORD MANNERISMS OF THAT MAN! I G N O R E M E!"
  8. interest check

    the abyssal enclave has Undae as their seer but she doesnt know how to read or write or even speak languages right so she cant communicate her 'prophecies' which are usually vague and simple enough for her to understand
  9. interest check

    oh no the suns not burning him he is dead. he is angry. but he is dead. he gained 1000 spiritual javelins by being impaled by 1000 actual javelins at once but he is dead his soul turned demonic with want for revenge but he is dead the only way to get this angry, angry man to not be dead is tell his bone splinters and pieces of his armor that a worthy emperor has risen and requires his aid but until that happens .... he is dead also it's a rock in the middle of the ocean
  10. Trapdoor (profile in sig) is a potential master of stealth. can i come in?
  11. if i can poke in im going to say it bluntly but know im trying to be the nicest i can if i was in a thread with this character i would be so, so annoyedl
  12. "...Already got protection? Nice, but for how long? What are these men doing to clear your name?" His smile. Teeth with tiny splotches of yellow, not shining like normal teeth, but glistening. "You've been done injustice, and for that, you have paid money for these good men to help you. But much more should be done! What can these three do against a mob? I don't doubt their skills--" He's sweetening the three up, so if Francis goes to them for counsel on what to do, they're more likely to accept Dick. "--but no one wants to be at the recieving end of twenty pitchforks." "And, as for the 'magic' of medicine making, I respectfully decline. I actually want to go into blacksmithing, figuring I go on an adventure someday. Just me, the open sky, my cozy armor, an axe, and my wits. I wanna have a cottage where I have no responsibilites. No one saying I'm hairy, and to put my jacket back on. No children running around the roads. No people saying standing in my backyard in my underwear is 'indecent', you know what I mean? I like being free as possible, and you are someone who has had their freedom infringed upon. I think everyone should have their freedom to 'be on their own'. Not be a criminal on their own, of course, but be free to live on your own. The phrase 'no man is an island' is false. We're islands with bridges. Those bridges have 'tolls' and 'gates'. You ask a personal question like 'where do you hail from' I get to close the gate. You want my help in clearing your name, you pay a toll of helping the pain in my back stop bothering me." His words make sense, but Francis can't help but feel he stinks of something. Francis knew this scent. He washed it from his hands by reasoning he was in the right. But Richard doesn't want to be right or wrong. He wants to BE. That stench was evil. It was no grossly deformed evil, nor amazingly handsome and charming evil. It was the worst kind of evil. The kind that thinks it is being good. But such a twisted man could get him out of this...
  13. "...You should have shot me." Ears ringing, left dripping blood, she still has a fire. Threats have only made her convictions to put him in his place greater! A vein bulges on the bridge of her nose. "YOUR HEART WAVERED, SOMAR PULVENTUM!" Cecile shoots to her feet, the massive, slender woman lifting Somar's heels off the ground just by standing up. And as she rose, so did her arms, grabbing his gun-handling elbow and flipping it back. Even if Somar began to choke her, she wouldn't need more than 4 seconds of breath to defeat him! With a powerful kick behind herself, the chair flies into a distant wall, breaking in half, as Cecile takes a dive backward, the grace of an Olympian, holding onto Somar's elbow. What was she doing?! What was the plan for when they landed? Could Somar come up with a plan fast enough?! These thoughts were cut to shreds by Cecile's impaling stare, and the few words she had while they were in the air, for what felt like an eternity; "Somar Pulventum--I have fallen for you!" ......... w-what
  14. interest check

    it was a pretty good one!
  15. is there any way Yh'mi can gain the nickname 'The Stone Ocean'?