((Ok, OOC time here. This is just a try, because I love this site and thought I should give it that much. This is my char, Lucky Bu'Rode. I'm just gonna bam up some text... Respond if you like it. Perhaps I can squeeze him in, in some type of play.))
Lucky....
Do you dream? Lucky Bu'Rode didn't, oh no... the only thing he got from his sleep was nightmares and cold sweats. Waking up in sheer terror for this youth that sent his heart from zero to sixty in less then a second, his eyes rubbed quickly as he leans up in the broad based bed and lets the down comforter fall to his lap as his fetish, his protector, lovingly named "Hex" looked at him with those little eyes. Hex was a normal north american rattle snake... Lucky found him on the trek for power in the only god like power he believed in...
The lucifer deck, the black playing cards satan used to deal for souls... Lucky was after them. His one chance to hold relegion in his hands, to stare something much more powerful then himself eye to eye and not blink... He got 20 so far, 20 cards to join him... the wands and some of the swords of the old tarot relegion.
The youth's head was shook as he slipped from the bed to stand slowly up to his full 6'4" height. Lucky was quite a man, over 230 pounds easily. Though he looked like he didn't have an ounce of fat on him. His body was naturally tan from his home back in the gullys near Baton Rogue. A hand raked through short locks on his brow, slicking them back over his head as he moved to the bathroom beside his room on the penthouse suite he had rented for now.
Turning the water full blast on hot he waited till he felt the first tickling of steam on his chest and neck, looking eye to eye to the man in the mirror he almost didn't recongize... to tell it plainly, Lucky died two years ago... not in the literal sense, but Lucky sure did die. The scar that ran from his temple over his eye and onto the bridge of his nose showed that, the only scar on his form dispite the 4 years of street warfare that molded him into a soldier. His eyes... the irises were a painting almost, a blend of grey, blue, green, and brown... women said they were his best feature... the type of eyes you could just look into and get lost... "She" said she loved him... she... Andrea... will he never forget the bitch that said she loved him, then just tried to kill him... Lucky died... the warm, friendly Lucky died...
All that was left of this new Lucky was an almost shell of a man, artic cold... so cold sometimes he even scared himself... a war was waged in his soul more deadly then any blade he felt pierce his skin, any round fired at him... a war to see who he truely was. Hands curled down and cupped the seering hot water without a wince, as he brought it up to splash over his face. Doing the same move over and over and over till he felt the anger that was on his skin like road dust fall off.
What was Lucky? he didn't even know... his past was wrapped up in a cloak of darkness from the old times, he doesn't remember even being loved... all he knew were the cards... he could make the cards do whatever he wants... they were his family now... them and Hex of course. His head tilted up and looked in the mirror again. Looking eye to eye to the man that was himself... in disgust one hand came up and tried to scrap the visage off with his fingertips. Only succeding in making four lines in the steam, and a slight squeek.
"I am Lucky... Lucky Bu'Rode..." Even he knew that was a lie as he said it, his real name was Mack... but he hasn't used that name in two long exhausting years... Lucky was a good guy, a pure heart in this land where the main rule of "Sex, power, and wealth... fuck everything else" ruled with a vengance, and an iron fist...
Turning off the water he slipped out to the bed with a new found tiredness, dropping onto the sheets and passing into a deep rest the instant he did... slipping into what he thinks is a dream... he was someplace... moving in his normal gear... spur steel clicking off his boots as he steps, duster licking at his heels and calves as he moves... flicking back and forth in some unknown, shadowed breeze. Weapons hidden under that coat as he moved with a confidence that only he could give... slipping up to gates... to a place he knew, where blood ran free... That cream from age stetson tilted up to stare at the lands before him... Lucky thought well, he thought this was just another dream, even when the killing began... until he looked at his hands, covered in gore.... and remembered...
He didn't dream....
((Ok done, Lucky is quite a complex char... I RP him in other places around the net. Perhaps I can explain him, and his past. For now, be good... or be good at it!))
Lucky....
Do you dream? Lucky Bu'Rode didn't, oh no... the only thing he got from his sleep was nightmares and cold sweats. Waking up in sheer terror for this youth that sent his heart from zero to sixty in less then a second, his eyes rubbed quickly as he leans up in the broad based bed and lets the down comforter fall to his lap as his fetish, his protector, lovingly named "Hex" looked at him with those little eyes. Hex was a normal north american rattle snake... Lucky found him on the trek for power in the only god like power he believed in...
The lucifer deck, the black playing cards satan used to deal for souls... Lucky was after them. His one chance to hold relegion in his hands, to stare something much more powerful then himself eye to eye and not blink... He got 20 so far, 20 cards to join him... the wands and some of the swords of the old tarot relegion.
The youth's head was shook as he slipped from the bed to stand slowly up to his full 6'4" height. Lucky was quite a man, over 230 pounds easily. Though he looked like he didn't have an ounce of fat on him. His body was naturally tan from his home back in the gullys near Baton Rogue. A hand raked through short locks on his brow, slicking them back over his head as he moved to the bathroom beside his room on the penthouse suite he had rented for now.
Turning the water full blast on hot he waited till he felt the first tickling of steam on his chest and neck, looking eye to eye to the man in the mirror he almost didn't recongize... to tell it plainly, Lucky died two years ago... not in the literal sense, but Lucky sure did die. The scar that ran from his temple over his eye and onto the bridge of his nose showed that, the only scar on his form dispite the 4 years of street warfare that molded him into a soldier. His eyes... the irises were a painting almost, a blend of grey, blue, green, and brown... women said they were his best feature... the type of eyes you could just look into and get lost... "She" said she loved him... she... Andrea... will he never forget the bitch that said she loved him, then just tried to kill him... Lucky died... the warm, friendly Lucky died...
All that was left of this new Lucky was an almost shell of a man, artic cold... so cold sometimes he even scared himself... a war was waged in his soul more deadly then any blade he felt pierce his skin, any round fired at him... a war to see who he truely was. Hands curled down and cupped the seering hot water without a wince, as he brought it up to splash over his face. Doing the same move over and over and over till he felt the anger that was on his skin like road dust fall off.
What was Lucky? he didn't even know... his past was wrapped up in a cloak of darkness from the old times, he doesn't remember even being loved... all he knew were the cards... he could make the cards do whatever he wants... they were his family now... them and Hex of course. His head tilted up and looked in the mirror again. Looking eye to eye to the man that was himself... in disgust one hand came up and tried to scrap the visage off with his fingertips. Only succeding in making four lines in the steam, and a slight squeek.
"I am Lucky... Lucky Bu'Rode..." Even he knew that was a lie as he said it, his real name was Mack... but he hasn't used that name in two long exhausting years... Lucky was a good guy, a pure heart in this land where the main rule of "Sex, power, and wealth... fuck everything else" ruled with a vengance, and an iron fist...
Turning off the water he slipped out to the bed with a new found tiredness, dropping onto the sheets and passing into a deep rest the instant he did... slipping into what he thinks is a dream... he was someplace... moving in his normal gear... spur steel clicking off his boots as he steps, duster licking at his heels and calves as he moves... flicking back and forth in some unknown, shadowed breeze. Weapons hidden under that coat as he moved with a confidence that only he could give... slipping up to gates... to a place he knew, where blood ran free... That cream from age stetson tilted up to stare at the lands before him... Lucky thought well, he thought this was just another dream, even when the killing began... until he looked at his hands, covered in gore.... and remembered...
He didn't dream....
((Ok done, Lucky is quite a complex char... I RP him in other places around the net. Perhaps I can explain him, and his past. For now, be good... or be good at it!))
