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Luna Lovegood

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Notes: Elemental Mages focus on 1 element. The options are: Dark(Taken) Light(not-Taken) Fire(Taken) Water(not-Taken) Earth(not-Taken) Air(Taken)
Name: Garath Girge
Age(Between 19-35): 21
Gender: Male
Element(One thats not taken): Earth
Appearance(Pic or description)http://rinoatilmitt.deviantart.com/art/Earth-Flight-88712920
Bio:
Garath, the son of a peasant father killed before he was born. His mother, the mistress of the king, King Galianth. The king had no idea that his mistress had a son, nor, that he was a father.
Garath was abandoned at birth, and raised within a barage of wild horses. Garath learned the swiftness of the air, the anger of the sea, and the strength of the earth. Garath with the temper of a thousand burning sons, had one goal, and one goal only, to prove that he was who he was. To show that he belonged on the dirt he stood upon. To believe his existance meant that of a human being.
RP Example: ?
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RP example is just a average RP post. I will post this up' date=' because I trust you as a mod, but could you please post your RP example?

[/quote']

 

lol, alright.

 

This is my first RP i have participated in, so, bear with me, as i stumble through this.

 

I step through the barricades, 7 men to the right, 12 to the left. Each of whom, has thier own physical appearance that would make any normal man quiver in fear. I have no time to show fear. I cannot waste my time on pety things, if I must show myself worthy to be the man I am.

Walking into the arena, the atmosphere is that of hatred, shame, death, and dreams. All of which will be crushed into a shapeless dust. I was told no man will ever walk out of this arena the same as he was when he entered. This epitamises me to an extent of anger. Lay down my task, I will raise my sword with the swiftness of the air, and the anger of the sea.

As I stop in the middle of the arena, a shiftless man stops in front me, a shady axe in one hand, and a dagger in the other.

'Hmm, what is thy begger here for? If money tis be your will, bend over so I can thy ass.'

 

Hahe.. I lift my head only an inch, I let my eyes do the speaking for me. Finally, I can stretch out.

I lift my left arm, the shady man steps back and raises his axe.

'HA! this beggit wishes to fight me!'

The man jumps at me, his heavy frame lifted so far into the air, that he looked he would fall face first.

With my left arm still raised, i moved my right foot to the left, and thrusted my right arm up, thrashing and slicing my sword into the chest of the shiftless man, shifting my right foot back around i let the man fall right in front of me, and with a simple grunt, I moved to the back of pack, my swords still steaming with the blood of thte shiftless man.

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Herit's opponent started walking around the ring. Herit copied him. From the looks of him, he was a spellcaster. They were dangerous. Since Herit had never trained as one he didn't know what they could really do. He did however, perceive a long sword on his belt. He could read a inscription, 'Frezeldor'. This name surprised him. It was a old name, older then any living person he knew. Herit also knew a little about swords. He knew they were buried with their owners. He wondered if this could be a psychic. He knew they tended to stay young for long amounts of time.

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