Board Thread:General Discussion/@comment-27950421-20181020012811/@comment-30014014-20181027024652

A leather jacket individual wanders about, followed by another in black and orange robes.

The first one's attire is coated in darkness, to suit the pigmentation of her skin, save for the edges of her clothings. They seem shiny, armored in brass metal painted in orange, the same as the ambient flame that periodically sprout out of her eyes. The shirt in between her jacket takes the same coloration as the outer rims of her clothes.

The other one bears monastic robes, although were one to pull up said robes, pants would be visible. His outer edges portrait symbols of ashes throughout his clothing, flushed deep in marine blue and gold. His face, masked by a seer's mask, hindering the visual sight of the man's eyes and mouth. His nose, the only available sight to behold, placing the man as a caucasian.

"Hey, hon'..." the fiery woman speaks of a coarse voice to the monk-looking man walking behind her, a staff in hand "...think there'll be some jackass playing bandits and robbers 'round the park?"

The man directs what looks to be his attention to her, the mask making it hard for many to guess "If thou seek to test thy mettle against any oncomer, may I suggest the strange-looking device standing in our path?"

"Device? The hell are you--" the woman turns forward, seeing a twin-wheeled apparel lying idly. A grin pertudes on her face, the flame around her eyes fanning with greater intensity "Ohh? What we have here? Looks like something fun to play with".

The priest sounded less than convinced, all too familiar with weapons of destruction. His silence bears many words as the hellhound knows. She turns her attention to him, Most of his expression is shrouded. Fortunately, years of persistence had given her the right to read his gesture.

Sensing his grave gaze reflected back sours her mood, chiding out in the open "Tss, good lord, what is with those assholes playing with their destructive toys?"

"We may never know" responds the man, knocking his staff on the unknown. Hollow. Good enough for the hellhound "Hon', got any ledge not far from here?"

"Why so?" questions the priest, again directed at her.

...

The unknown apparel is seen plummeting from the edge of the island straight into sea, ripped apart by the stalagmites sitting at the corner of the place, the missile pods hanging around it rupturing one after one in a cataclysmic explosion. The same hellhound can be seen wiping her paws with the proverbial dust from them "Good riddance".

She walks up to the man who hd been looking ahead in their road. A city, not far. Her mood dampened, she cracks her knuckles "Great, now I feel like clobbering someone silly! Hey, let's hit up any place where there might be bandits! I don't care if we end up late!"