Name: Booker Ares Religion: Guthix-ish Age: 24 Description of your character: 6'2" lithe and athletic Description of Equipment: Booker has a leather jacket, and is never seen without his two primary weapons. A silvrunite rapier and a wrist-mounted dueling wand. In addition he usually carries a wrist-mounted syringer with an assortment of small doses of various potions and drugs prepped for launching. He also has a set of elemental gauntlets and air boots, which allow him to glide or even fly over short distances. He has also been shown to use a wrist-mounted grappling hook that is attached to a circular device that also holds his wand and syringer. In addition he has a wide arrangement of other combat-ready devices.
Brief Background: Booker is a prominent member of the Cloak & Swagger Detective Agency and has solved/worked on several pressing cases within Asgarnia. He also is known for an incredible memory, with banks upon banks of memories in his head.
Interior, Cloak and Swagger Detective Agency. Lighting dim, curtains drawn, and the taps of rain outside. It's late, probably past midnight judging by the amount of coffee left in the pot and the haggard state of the room. In the corner a black cat sits quietly, it's tail swishing back and forth rhythmically like the ticking of a clock. Edgar Dae, 25, sits quietly at his dark oak writing desk. He looks as disheveled as the room, glasses at the tip of his nose, hair in disarray, and clearly on what appeared to be his ninth cup of coffee. The front door opened with the sliding metal sign of a key in the lock, the rain outside is and in steps another man, 6'2", blonde, wearing a dark leather jacket with a 'syringer' ("Not a word, Booker" on his arm. His hat makes it way to the stand to join it's family, and the man speaks with a friendly, yet professional tone. "Hey Ed, you hear about the clue scroll hunt?" Edgar gave a quiet nod. He'd not looked up from the heavy, bright red tome that lay between them like a wall. "So, when do we start?" The other man looked up, wiping at coffee stain in the corner of his mouth idly. "I'll let you handle this one." As the blonde man hung his jacket upon the coat rack, the leather laying there like a discarded second skin, he looked a bit shocked by what Ed had said. "You love this kind of shit, don't you?" Edgar gave an accepting nod, but reached a hand down to clutch the thick edge of his reading, tilting it up to show the cover, the words "Donec magnacon" emblazoned on the surface in the dark black of dried blood. "I have work."
So in all seriousness: Nat I think this is fantastic have a great time but I am so busy right now.