The suit of power armor comes bearing gifts. Specifically, three screeching mirelurks who chase at its heels.
watches from a safe distance, finishing off her cigarette as the can
runs. Occasionally the power armor turns around sharply, only to unload
eight or nine rounds from a poorly maintained laser rifle towards the
faces of the lurks as they cross the field, dead grass crushing beneath
its heavy boots.
The closer the suit gets, the shittier it looks,
banged up and dented, paint and blood and guts splattered across the
front, sides, and rear. Whoever is inside is also, clearly, a maniac.
When it runs out of rounds, it takes to beating the last lurk with the
gun until it falls apart, shattered into a dozen pieces across the boggy
Harry smiles before he realizes you aren’t kidding. “[Y/N]….” he begins cautiously. “Does this have anything to do with last night?” You avoid his eyes and he swears loudly. “I KNEW something happened!” He walks to you and gently holds your face in his massive hands. “Babe why didn’t you tell me?” he asks softly. You shrug and think back. You were out with Harry and Niall last night at a club and as you were all leaving some drunk fans and rude paps got pretty rowdy and a few of them took swings at you and started to shove you around as they closed in on you. “Preston got there in time…I was fine Harry.” You avoided telling Harry exactly how terrified you were last night once you got in the car because you knew he’d worry. Harry drops his hands and turns around, clearly upset. “Harry I was fine!” You stress again. “The damn security team should’ve gotten there faster!” He yells. “I should have been holding on to you, goddammit [Y/N]….” he sinks down on the couch with his head in his hands and you join him, your arms around his strong shoulders. “Harry, first of all this is not your fault. Secondly…it’s P’s job to watch over you and NI, he was just doing his job.” “[Y/N] you could’ve gotten hurt…” You lean your head against his. “But I wasn’t harry,” you remind him gently. “But you could’ve been!” He protests. “So teach to me to defend myself Harry!” You stand up and he looks up at you. Harry sighs and slowly nods. “Okay….I’ll teach you to fight.”
What They Would Be Famous For: “Dwarf brokers peace between Revantusk and Wildhammer - Attributes success to long-standing relationship with their ambassador.”
What Have They / Would They Gotten Arrested For: So much stuff. Rowdy conduct, aiding a criminal in escaping custody, being an illegal underground fighter (literally), heck maybe even just as a “horde sympathizer.”
OC You Ship Them With: Friendly ship with @playerprophet’s Meida, romantic ships with my Venn and Amnac.
OC Most Likely To Murder Them: Herself, trying to save someone else.
Favorite Book Genre: Alchemical studies.
Least Favorite Book Cliche: Brutish savage troll cannibals.
Talents and/or Powers: Aside from the standard death knight abilities and dwarven racial traits, Huvi can read fortunes by throwing bones. She’s also a fantastic martial combatant, an alchemical savant, is fluent in zandali, and the elemental language of kalimag.
Why Someone Might Love Them: Because she’s adorable and great.
Why Someone Might Hate Them: Undeath is a hell of a thing.
How They Change: She went from a broken husk of her former self living on the streets in Stormwind to an officer of a mercenary guild, to a semi-retired fighter who just wants to spend some time with her best pals.
Why You Love Them: She’s a genuinely nice person who’s put it all on the line to help friends before. She’s bubbly and personable and is just fun to play as.
Most bars were quieter on the weekdays, which was what Jacket preferred. Thursday was cutting it a little close; for some people, usually younger people, the weekend started on Friday, so the bar population picked up on Thursday nights. Jacket didn’t mind, as it was still less rowdy than the weekend. It was just enough activity that bartenders didn’t eye him with a pitying look for coming to the bar alone on a weeknight.
Jacket always went to the bar alone.
He always went home from the bar alone, too. Particularly on a weeknight, it was pretty obvious he didn’t sit at the counter by himself to socialize. As it was, he sat with a bright blue cocktail, sipping from it every now and then but definitely taking his time. The place was fairly quiet, but for some talking and occasional laughter from a group of people at a booth in a corner. They were far enough away that their volume didn’t bother him. Otherwise, the bar was only speckled with other loners, probably regulars, occupied with their drinks. One read the newspaper. Another stared at the TV for lack of anything else to look at. Most everyone who wasn’t engaged in conversation kept their eyes busy in some way or another; Jacket just stared for his drink.