.svg/2000px-Google_Chrome_icon_(2011).svg.png){kind=icon}
01-20-2016, 08:44 AM
Albrecht All the old man wants to do is stand around and stuff his face with green - Is that really so much to ask? - but it seems like being so far removed from the other herds makes the Basin something of a curiosity instead of keeping it quietly isolated. One minute there’s a gathering and the next there’s a birthing and now some stranger and his hairy mutt are waltzing all unknowing into the danger zone of Mecha-stallion One and Two. "He-“ The word almost leaves his mouth, but a perverse sense of wonder chokes it off halfway through. What do the sentinels actually do to trespassers he wonders. One ear tips forward as images pulled straight from the Saturday night movie B-reel flash through his mind; laser beams bursting from the machinations eyes to roast victims alive, a shower of rust and snow tumbling down as they’re mysteriously summoned to life, iron hooves stamping down enemies like homemade doormats... What little muscle clings to the black’s withered frame tenses in anticipation, ready for the hiss and sizzle of burning flesh, but some innate sense of caution stops the stranger in his tracks and spares him such a fate. Disappointment tightens the old man’s features. "Come on then ya coward.” Would the sentinels consider that an invitation? He half hoped they wouldn’t. "What is it you want and what is it you have to offer?” He chooses to shout across the border instead of properly approaching (hope still holds that the sentinels attack). He’s of no rank or temperament to accept new members anyway, especially those without the draw of feminine curves. // OOC: Just popping in. :) The Curmudgeon |
![[Image: 56c616e54affc]](http://images.helovia.net/index.php/view/56c616e54affc)
