darkSpyro

((Well, that was a short break. PM me if you want details why I'm back.))

Nathan sighed as he finished setting up his few belongings, and just laying down in his hammock. He was laying with his arms behind his head, as to give himself a pillow, for now until he could find a real one.

Lea slowly looked into Leia's eyes, smiling gently "D-dont worry about it, its nothing to bad.." He muttered as he slowly got up, he slowly unwrapped the bandage that covered his eye, revealing his scarred eye, he held out the bandage. "Hey, Leia.. think you could wrap this up for me?" He asked calmly, even though blood was pouring down his arm.

There wasn't much in Hellena's closet/house, except a pile of food and pilfered items against one wall, and a few rags used as bedding against another. Hidden in a small hole in the wall were the few 'valuables' the teenager had, which at the moment was merely a half-pint bottle of vodka (hella).

"Ggh," Hellena grunted with mild disappointment, inspecting the bottle. "That withdrawal's gonna hurt."

Nathan swung his legs off the side of his hammock, though making sure he didn't hit the person below him. "This is a fun life." He said, messing with a marble he had found on the street.

"T-thanks.." Lea studied his arm and moved it around a bit. "Dont worry Leia, its not too bad of a cut, really." He covered his scarred eye with his hand, smiling gently.

"Yeah, I guess you're right. So, how are you?" He asked as he slowly walked towards his personal hammock, moving his hand away from his eye, and onto his injured arm.

"Thats good, life hasnt been to rough?" He asked as he fell into the hammock, looking up at the ceiling, sighing heavily.

(Not related to anything, I found this title funny for some reason)
(Okay, bye)

"Really? Think I could tag along?" He asked, sitting up slightly. He looked down at his wounded arm, staring at the bloodied bandage. Oh god it stings.. he thought to himself.

"Yeah, dont worry about it." He sighed as he sat up and jumped off the hammock. "So, where are we heading off to?" He asked, his voice filled with curiosity, placing his other hand on his wound.

OOC: Bump! Don't want this to die. c:
I'll edit this post with my character sheet soon, just need to fix some things first.

Re-bump

Come on guys there's like 30 FNaF and Pokemon RPs. At least give this one a try.

Chinatown

Name: Leon Keane

Gender: Male

Age: 17

Personality: Kind and gentle although he can have occasional psychotic impulses, specifically when innocent people will not be harmed. Does not like killing but will do so without question if necessary. Does not believe in torture, believes in mercy killing. Impulsive and has a love for combat. Also enjoys battle strategy but often does not have the patience required to follow through. Spends time reading about past exploits and wars throughout the ages before ww3. Also enjoys stories of the times before ww3.

History: Grew up an American boy with a loving family with traditional family values. His father died in the war and his mother died of a broken heart leaving him with his grandfather, whom was a rough kid back in his day and carries many stories. Now that he is in Chinatown he misses his home dearly, specifically trees and the freedom to roam for miles as well as the peace an quiet.

Appearance: Green eyes. Dark blonde hair long enough to put in a pony tail in the back and the rest is in combed to the side(think captain america). black unzipped hoodie with white wings on the back and a dark red under shirt. black jeans with combat boots.

In the rebellion? No

Other: Carries a home made hidden blade(forgive me I am on an ac binge)

Leon couldn't feel his fingers anymore as he pulled himself into the window. He felt his arms burn from the exertion and although it was cold and his hands where practically frozen, some sweat dripped from his brow due to the exercise. Once inside the window he took a peek outside. The sun was just coming over the horizon. He looked down a dizzying six stories, far more than he would have ever climbed when he first came to Chinatown. Even now he wished to push upward, even higher to the very top but stayed his hand.

Although he had lost a lot in his youth, there was still a reason not to walk the razor edge between life and death. He did not fear dying, in fact at times he welcomed the idea of seeing his family again, but he had to stay alive for his grandfather's sake. For now he will play it safe.

Leon opened the door to his apartment room. He entered to find his grandfather smoking and watching TV, when it would work. "Mornin'" Leon said somewhat cheerfully as he walked to the kitchen to eat an old roll. It would have to suffice for both breakfast and lunch, but he didn't mind. Nor did he mind the fact that it was a little old. Food never made much of a difference for him, perhaps that was why he was so slim, but the climbing kept his muscles ready for anything.

After he finished him and his grandfather talked awhile. Stories about the old days when his grandfather was a young. And how much they missed the old land, even the hard labor that came with it. But in a city there wasn't much labor and it was far to cold to be outside anyways. Now everything was just the same repetitive motion.

Time passed and Leon went out for supplies. Upon his return he opened the door to a dark room. He turned on the light to a wide eyed man laying still. His heart stopped, the cigarette was still burning in his grandfather's hand. He watched for a long time but did not see him breath. He finally went over to check his pulse and found none.

Leon closed the old man's eyes with his fingers. He looked towards the ceiling and suppressed tears. Death was familiar. Hearing his father wasn't coming was hard, having his mother die as he held his her hand was even harder, this was painful but nothing compared to when he was a child. "Fabulis vestris , et manete in me." he said as he stood "bene vale."

Leon was not strong like his grandfather in his youth, but the Keane had a certain warrior culture of their own. Each first born son was a fighter, Leon took pride in this and always tried to live up to this, feeling often like he failed. His father died in a war and his grandfather fought in the war before that. Leon took bottles from the top shelf and poured the contents over the ground and his grandfather whom lied lifeless on the chair.

Finally he grabbed the matches from the front pocket of his grandfather and walked to the door. He lit one "a real viking's funeral" he said dropping the lit match on the ground. He watched it ignite the room and stood for a moment and then exited through the door. He threw his hood over his head and walked up several flights of stairs.

Leon knew the fire could spread to other rooms and even harm others and perhaps if it went unchecked collapsed the entire building, but he didn't care, not right now anyways. He walked up to a window and and opened it before backing up and slamming his forehead against the wall. He suppressed the urge to scream. He looked back at the window. 'I am probably somewhere between 10 and 12 stories high, what could that fall do to me' he thought 'I really don't care anymore'.

With that thought in mind he leaped through the opening towards the next building and closed his eyes. He felt something hit him, hard. It then gave way and he crashed into another room, it was empty. "damn, those windows are cheap" he said. 'but I survived' he thought a little shocked.

His hood over his head Leon exited the door of the building and walked onto the streets wondering what he would or could find in the real world, on the razor edge.

Leon hit the ground hard. He stood back stepping into a boxing stance. There was three of them and he had no real experience. Everything within him screamed in despair. He just wanted to vomit and lay down, but he couldn't do that not for the sake of his honor.

Who knew that a group of men would be so easy to upset. They had asked for his wallet, he had no money but perhaps smarting off wasn't such a good idea either. He contemplated using the blade, 'no, life should not be tooken so easily' he chastised himself.

The middle one cocked back another hay maker. To someone skilled it would be an easy dodge. Leon could see it coming from a mile away, yet his step was too slow. The fist landed hard against his face only his tiny forearm absorbed some of the damage. Leon fell into some trash cans knocking them over and making a mess.

He couldn't get up this time, not because his body wasn't capable, but because his spirit was broken. The group laughed and walked off mocking having had their fun. 'What the hell is the point anyways?' he thought to himself 'I have no one to live for anymore. My family is gone, I am homeless, and my pride just took a nose dive.' He sat up 'a lot of people find it so easy to live for themselves. I don't see how, I need somebody, something to fight for. But I am alone' he smirked a little at the irony of the thought 'the one he needs people is alone, yet those who only want for themselves are surrounded by others, the irony is laughable'.

He began to pick himself up when he felt something flex under his weight. He moved the trash cans to reveal a hidden door. He was curious yet cautious. He then looked at the blade strapped to his left arm, hidden under the sleeve, and anger swelled through him warming him the cool weather. 'I will be fine' he thought 'because this time there will be no mercy for those who wish to harm me.'

He opened the door and stepped in, completely astonished at what he saw. "this is not what I expected" he couldn't help but say out loud.