<span style='color:red'>Time Stamp: Dyo 20 81380</span> Again frigid wind picked up, howling quite loudly through the large and almost ominous castle. Not afraid any more of this hulk of metal, glass, plastics, and carved stone with her feet clicking softly in suckered motions that echoed off the hollow halls of the empire. Tendrils pushed back off a sweet looking face, by a thick band of ink with the lithe torso swathed in heavy clothing and furs of others. The body made it’s way past hulks of broken glass with a thick notebook like sketching pad in a slender appendage. Scribbled words in anubi and detailed and well-drawn sketches of the machines and the structural build of the empire’s strong hold were trapped on the creamy texture of paper. This was the place she met her fiancé, at first she was extremely cautious around him only to have e him treat her gently healing the torn out wing. Nhadala felt the only out side heat throbbing off her face in a thick and plastered blush, bringing up the note book in a brief and almost crushing hug. Only to let go and allow the wind to cool down the sudden rise of temperature, feeling like the only one in the facility yet being watched by many eyes in the unknown. Of course one could feel many things when one of the professions on the belt was Necromancy or Sightless Fighting, as other sensory organs were well heightened and adapted to be blinded. The female would not allow this to get the best of her nerves, as the body felt many touches of lingering spirits and the locations of bodies their touch left for her. Mixed feelings surrounded her only to roll off by a shrug of toned muscle, moving on wards in to a main hallway that connected to the opened antechamber. As soon enough game a glistening mass of machine in the middle of the rotund chamber, flooring webbed in marble designs that were slick and polished running up and under the machine. Slat tinted pools watched in soft awe as the body scrambled forth almost sliding a few feet away from the gleaming mass. Slowly the body went to its knees, the hard surface didn’t matter to her as the free arm reached for her back pocket for a sharpened pencil. Slowly the digits grasped the slicked wood with holding lead on it’s interior, placing it down near her left knee, the cylindrical object rolled a little bit stopping at a piece of rubble. Hands peeled open the book, lips curved in a smile as she came apoun a blank and velvety smooth page, the right hand grabbed anxiously for the writing utensil. Slowly came the scratches of the lead making love to the pressed tree pulp, soon enough those sharp noises softened in to more fine worked details with shading made by the lead. The torso sat now more firmly apoun the ground being quite in to the sketch, yet this wasn’t her profession to draw. Naturally talented at many fields of work Nhadala chose after the primary needs of the family necromancy to go in more combat ready simulations and sciences than dependant on others to protect her. Still she felt demurred by her sister who spitted out large canvases of art work that sold for large sums of money, so she fell in the category of scientist like her elder brother whom as rarely seen. The spine began to moan in soft pain, straightening up wards to listen to the surroundings only to find her self-looking back at the fallen machine in awe. It’s structure gave it the look of a intricate fountain, only to be known that it once ran for other purposes besides the lack-a-luster beauty that only old daubs would place in their castles. Wings fluttered uneasily as they wrapped around the upper torso as if they had their own mind, arms working underneath with the pad still outreached to the pale light. Her hand etched in sentences, and observations about the structure it’s self, the light only shone that it was mid morning, hair on the back of the slender neck prickling up wards from the breeze. One hand that held the pencil paused and Nhadala stretched her neck up wards with a hand on the webbing of muscle connecting the neck and the shoulder. Snapping or loosening the tense feeling there by rolling her neck, the vertebrae of her spine crackled. Creation of echos filled the halls and the ante chambre to the brim, with soft ears flickering here and there with the occasional clink of her earings. Around her thick to thin shards of glass glittered from the sunlight cascading formthehole at the top of the chamber. Carbon.
<center><table width=350 bgcolor="#000000" cellpadding=5 cellspacing=0 style="border:1px solid #408bc4;"><tr><td background="http://www.dslx.net/~eh/atticustbl.gif" height=127></td></tr><tr><td><div align=justify><font color=white style="font-family:verdana; font-size:10px; line-height:10.5px;"><font color=#244e6f> <div align=left><font color= "#abcce4">[ooc]you might clench your fist you might fork your tongue</font></div> Eee. CouldnÂ’t resist. Yummy new table. <div align=left><font color= "#abcce4">[ic]as you curse or praise all the things you've done</font></div> Talons edged closer to the brink of debris and shattered machina that was cast in shades of twilight and sunshine. A bright pitter-patter of green and gray-glinting hues, mingled with weeds and flowers and the glow of midday. A buzz of crickets and tall grass insects, chittering away. A few blank windows stared down on him in silence from the husks of the empty buildings. Any glass had long since shattered, any wood had rotted, and nothing remained but metal frames, mortar, and stone crumbling in the grip of invading vegetation. Every building sported jagged spurs of metal sticking from its broken walls, like bones jutting from a long-dead carcass. Twisted shapes of steel were scattered among the shattered cement and rubble, rising above the jetsam like skeletal fingers grasping and clawing at the air- only to have the gaseous matter slip between their curled and distorted digits of struts and girders, leaving them empty-handed. The ruins were overgrown with creepers and stunted trees, every inch of loose material in the grasp of a dozen tentacles of trailing plantae. Another shift of appendage drew the large toe pads forth, arching high shoulder blades in a silken motion. A saunter to the edge of shadow twinges, pelage rippling against taut muscles and sinew. A poised body, slightly scrawny with lack of fodder; a frame of rippling musculature crooned beneath a pelage of purest alabaster. It was already beginning. Things were already beginning to change. Hesitant steps paused in their sway forth, tattered cargo pants trailing against blackened limbs, swirling around ivory form. A black leather bag was attached to a strap hanging tight from hip to shoulder, stuffed to its fullest, bulging and pregnant. A pair of handguns modeled in tangerine and dark gray was strapped to the ardenÂ’s waist by means of a side-holster. Thin draconic appendage stretched from muscular hinquarters, ending in a flickering crimson flame cored with orange. A somber visage cast the ruins ahead a sullen stare. Triangular sonars dashed across his skull, the first sign that life even existed in those abyssal pools of haunting jade. Not the bright hues of emerald and slim-bladed grass, but the pallid, eerie glow of jade and mint. It had been that way since his birth. A birth he barely remembered. A past that had yet to sink its hooks in his shambled and shattered heart. A heart which beat weak like metal against his ribcage, cold and silent within his chambers. Serpentine paw edged forth after its comrade at a slow pace, haunches prowling him forth with ease. The maleÂ’s most unusual feature was his right leg. From mid-thigh downwards, the limb was composed of a mass of metal, machina, and wires. Metal plate cupped the stump of his leg, the remnants bound to the faux limb by a number of devices; with several moving parts for full motion, the leg was more comfortable, anticipating the shock of walking and imitating the rotary movement of a fully functional foreleg. Shrapnel Quaihosai slithered at the edge of light and dark, allowing the shadows to play upon his coat as he went. Those eerie globes swiveled, casting an otherworldly glow across the failing sunlight. Their stare never wavered from the horizon, sending liquid green-stone into a wicked display, much like the flight of fireflies. Piercing-littered sonars weaved, warily catching all sounds from every angle. He had the same length of hair all over, with slightly longer hair on the nape- a spiked mane ran along the back of his neck, extending from the back of the skull. A crest of bristled hair ran along the nape-mane, which he had dyed black. As well, the luoko had tufts of long, silky, muted-orange fur running from his elbows to the inside of his wrists. The same feathery, titian matter fringed his ankles. His horns were certainly distinguishing; they started atop his head a few inches into his hair, and spiraled backwards, draconic-like, carved of black, polished bone. A mass of thick, gray-hemp, straight hair sprang from hi crania, tousled into sexy spikes that cascaded down to the base of his skull. Tangerine-dyed bangs, cropped at his cheekbones, fringed his hair-several of which hung in his face. Tainted wind drifts tickled the soft curvature of leather nostrils, producing a slight twitch from the attentive appendage. Something was coming against his wind, his space, his area. Nasal cavities stimulated sonars to thrust forth atop slender skull, casting a sullen stare towards the bleak horizon; 'Nellie pulled down the layers of shirts that swathed his torso, and the olive-colored hoodie that topped the stratum of varicolored cloth. </div></td></tr></table><center>
