Patroklos Alexander ( Πάτροκλος Αλέξανδρος) (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
theholywarrior) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
vatheon2012-05-29 07:36 pm
theholywarrior) wrote in vatheon2012-05-29 07:36 pm
Entry tags:
A Wayward Savior
Who: Patroklos & Whomever finds him
When: Midday
Where: Plaza (Or rather wandering away from the main plaza)
Style: Prose & action both welcomed
Status: Open
[ If it hadn't been for the unusual kindness of a local woman, Patroklos would have never stirred from consciousness. The blond had to have been out for a few minutes, fifteen at max. The one who solidly nailed him in the back of his head with that book was long forgotten by him. However, the dull headache he now sports won't allow him to forget that he was bested by a mere book. Wobbly rising to his feet as he clutched his head in dire distress, Patroklos eyes widened once caught glimpse of the blue-silver blade. Laying right before his feet was none other than the coveted Soul Calibur gleaming in all its brilliance. Staring at the sword with mild wonder, Patroklos hesitated to reach for it. ]
That sword...
[ His voice was laced with agony. ]
It's more than what it seems to be.
[ Unsure what to do now, Patroklos gingerly picked up the spirit sword by its hilt and sheathed it once more. ]
...nhhm...
[ Now holding his head with both hands once the headache intensified, Patroklos slowly began to walk down the avenue aimlessly. ]
When: Midday
Where: Plaza (Or rather wandering away from the main plaza)
Style: Prose & action both welcomed
Status: Open
[ If it hadn't been for the unusual kindness of a local woman, Patroklos would have never stirred from consciousness. The blond had to have been out for a few minutes, fifteen at max. The one who solidly nailed him in the back of his head with that book was long forgotten by him. However, the dull headache he now sports won't allow him to forget that he was bested by a mere book. Wobbly rising to his feet as he clutched his head in dire distress, Patroklos eyes widened once caught glimpse of the blue-silver blade. Laying right before his feet was none other than the coveted Soul Calibur gleaming in all its brilliance. Staring at the sword with mild wonder, Patroklos hesitated to reach for it. ]
That sword...
[ His voice was laced with agony. ]
It's more than what it seems to be.
[ Unsure what to do now, Patroklos gingerly picked up the spirit sword by its hilt and sheathed it once more. ]
...nhhm...
[ Now holding his head with both hands once the headache intensified, Patroklos slowly began to walk down the avenue aimlessly. ]
no subject
[ Ahh, cigarettes. Most important tool in a journalist's kit. He takes another tactically planned pause for a long drag before changing topics.]
So, what's your deal then? Bronze Age mannerisms, dark ages weapons, armor from the renaissance? You've got a righteous fury, but only invoke the gods as your own form of swearing. And what sort of accent is that supposed to be?
no subject
[ A frown settled on the youth lips once Spider started to ramble. Yes, he does realize he's a tad odd looking. However, does the journalist have to go out of his way to question him? ]
Are you making fun of me?! Yes, I'm not from whatever land you hail from. So, yes I do have an accent. I'm from Greece, if you must know.
no subject
[ Spider mutters someing to himself about hearing more authentic greek in detroit, but mostly just seems to be grumbling. He pulles out a typewriter... one with a lcd screen and and interface for the sfc network. He starts to type.]
No. I've had more than enough fun with you for the day. Now I'm more interested in business. What drives you? Why do you feel the need to fight evil the way you do?