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May 3, 2014 12:42:51 GMT -7
Tag me @haziel
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Post by Fiore Featherine on Apr 2, 2014 14:24:55 GMT -7
Featherine Fiore has finally arrived from France and made his way to Owari, the base of Oda Nobunaga. Having heard of the great power of the Demon King of the Seventh Heaven the young man had chosen this great leader as his own to follow. He arrived at the base in the dead of night clad in skin tight black clothes and covered in loosely wrapped bandages, a smile on his face so bright it made the dark night seem like day for any who caught sight of it. It was his first day here in the Oda clan and he intended to make good use of it. Standing tall and confident he sauntered in with a hop to his step looking more as though he were a dancer on stage than a soldier reporting for duty. However, any who had heard word of his great reputation in France would know he is a force to be reckoned with even is this was not evident in his looks. Here in Japan though he was just another faceless form joining in the everlasting fights. Finally he reached the center of the are and took a seat, his old and worn out kanabo he had torn out of the deathgrip of a fallen soldier with it tip to the ground so he might lean on it.
"What? No welcoming party?" He chirped and tsked. "What a shame..."
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May 30, 2014 18:58:24 GMT -7
Tag me @silversilvera
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Post by Silver-Silvera on May 12, 2014 15:49:49 GMT -7
Featherine Fiore has finally arrived from France and made his way to Owari, the base of Oda Nobunaga. Having heard of the great power of the Demon King of the Seventh Heaven the young man had chosen this great leader as his own to follow. He arrived at the base in the dead of night clad in skin tight black clothes and covered in loosely wrapped bandages, a smile on his face so bright it made the dark night seem like day for any who caught sight of it. It was his first day here in the Oda clan and he intended to make good use of it. Standing tall and confident he sauntered in with a hop to his step looking more as though he were a dancer on stage than a soldier reporting for duty. However, any who had heard word of his great reputation in France would know he is a force to be reckoned with even is this was not evident in his looks. Here in Japan though he was just another faceless form joining in the everlasting fights. Finally he reached the center of the are and took a seat, his old and worn out kanabo he had torn out of the deathgrip of a fallen soldier with it tip to the ground so he might lean on it. "What? No welcoming party?" He chirped and tsked. "What a shame..."
A man, whose skin, eyes and shirt were white, but was otherwise enclosed in black, emerged from a doorway. "A blonde." He wondered if the man spoke Latin. "Why is a Frenchman here? If you want a party bring knowledge or guns. Otherwise you're just a strange looking man with a stick. These people will dislike you forever unless you give them something. Imagine a Japanese wandering the streets of Paris. At best he could become something a noble could show off as art." |
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