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Vadriel · 03-23-2006, 02:54 PM

V'kleta snorts. "Quite the grand entrance. And to think that I was under the impression that we were to be inconspicuous. Fine. Since appearances are obviously not an issue, allow me to shed this horseblanket of a cloak."

V'kleta touches the palm of his left hand to the brooch that binds the cloak to his chest, and a wave of muted flame radiates out along the heavy fabric from his point of contact. The fire incinerates the cloak, and within seconds all that remain are a few wisps of ash and the brooch in his hand. V'kleta groans as his back pops, and he rises from his hunched position up to his full height of 7 and a quarter feet. His eyes closed, he rotates his head slowly, working out the cramps that resulted from such confinement, and upon reaching the end of his arc, opens them. He glares with piercing yellow eyes at the humans in the bar, and they unconsciously back off.

He steps away from the wall and unfolds his wings from their resting place about his shoulders, the claws interlocked before his collarbone. He sweeps them back until they extend their full span to either side, large enough to carry a dragon twice his size. Their massive breadth dwarfs the bar, and upon finishing his stretch, he refolds them against his back.

His hand drifts up to the odd, skeletal, belt-like thing that hangs crosswise on his chest, and it begins to uncurl, shifting around to meet his hand. It straightens out in his grasp and the blade of Kir'halla rises proudly to its heightened position. From beneath his folded wings, V'kleta's powerful, horned tail lowers into view from where he had held it against his back underneath the cloak.

He stands straight up, peering over the head of the one whose entrance had been so showy, so glitzy. His bare chest heaves silently, the black chain tattoos upon it rippling, and one can almost hear their rattling in his mind. A flicker of inner torment clouds his eyes for a moment, then subsides as the memory of his binding is swept away by the entity within. The eyes of Kir'halla flit about the room, surveying the surroundings. Satisfied, it peers at V'kleta, and unconsciously his hand grips it tighter.

Standing back against the wall, and heedless of the stares from the men and women about him, V'kleta nods to Vox and the newcomer.

"Much better."

03-23-2006, 02:54 PM	#10 (permalink)
Vadriel Bite my shiny metal ass! Join Date: Jun 2003 Location: Russellville, AR Age: 20 Posts: 5,924	V'kleta snorts. "Quite the grand entrance. And to think that I was under the impression that we were to be inconspicuous. Fine. Since appearances are obviously not an issue, allow me to shed this horseblanket of a cloak." V'kleta touches the palm of his left hand to the brooch that binds the cloak to his chest, and a wave of muted flame radiates out along the heavy fabric from his point of contact. The fire incinerates the cloak, and within seconds all that remain are a few wisps of ash and the brooch in his hand. V'kleta groans as his back pops, and he rises from his hunched position up to his full height of 7 and a quarter feet. His eyes closed, he rotates his head slowly, working out the cramps that resulted from such confinement, and upon reaching the end of his arc, opens them. He glares with piercing yellow eyes at the humans in the bar, and they unconsciously back off. He steps away from the wall and unfolds his wings from their resting place about his shoulders, the claws interlocked before his collarbone. He sweeps them back until they extend their full span to either side, large enough to carry a dragon twice his size. Their massive breadth dwarfs the bar, and upon finishing his stretch, he refolds them against his back. His hand drifts up to the odd, skeletal, belt-like thing that hangs crosswise on his chest, and it begins to uncurl, shifting around to meet his hand. It straightens out in his grasp and the blade of Kir'halla rises proudly to its heightened position. From beneath his folded wings, V'kleta's powerful, horned tail lowers into view from where he had held it against his back underneath the cloak. He stands straight up, peering over the head of the one whose entrance had been so showy, so glitzy. His bare chest heaves silently, the black chain tattoos upon it rippling, and one can almost hear their rattling in his mind. A flicker of inner torment clouds his eyes for a moment, then subsides as the memory of his binding is swept away by the entity within. The eyes of Kir'halla flit about the room, surveying the surroundings. Satisfied, it peers at V'kleta, and unconsciously his hand grips it tighter. Standing back against the wall, and heedless of the stares from the men and women about him, V'kleta nods to Vox and the newcomer. "Much better." __________________ Ooohhhoho, Guy liiiike-uh!= Union of Fury = Lacchesis: L32 Pagan -Atropos-: L42 Assassin Teos Last edited by Vadriel; 03-23-2006 at 04:17 PM.