He has no goddamn clue what's going on - Damien was just getting ready to head into the Gym for class, finding himself in the dark with a shortsword in one hand (RAD), and a torch in the other. He half expected this to be some sort of stupid obstacle coarse Coach thought up to test them all, but it's so much better than that. ACTION! DRAMA!! BLOODSHED!!!!
These are a few of his favorite things. Mainly the last one, but u no.
So, coated in gore as he is, he's all but skipping down the twists and turns, driving his sword into pretty much everything he sees, grinning from ear to pointy, red ear. Thankfully, his heinous laughter gives him away, so if you see a literal demon coming your way with a sword trained on you...mmmaybe try and get him to stop. He might, it really depends on his mood. And, thankfully!! He's in a good mood!
Unfortunately, his good mood is spurred by the more blood and grime he drenches his sword with, but hey. It's better than a pissed off prince of Hell coming at you with a sword.]
C'MERE, SHITWAGON!! ---
One may call this a Wet Dream
[PUT HIM BACK IN THE MURDER MAZE, THAT WAS ACTUALLY FUN. This? This is Some Bullshit. The heat doesn't bother Damien - he's literally from Hell - but the water sure as heck doesn't agree with him. Of course, his stubborn and violent attitude still made him give fighting the ocean his best, sporting try, but...even he's not a complete idiot. Wading out when it got too much to handle, Damien makes his way up toward the mountain, swiping his forked tail angrily as he goes.]
Fuck! They couldn't have let me keep the sword?! Shit, I don't even have knives or anything! [He kicks a rock hard with his foot, sending it soaring....right into a cluster of lungblosoms. The grizzly-looking plants give a groan like two gears grinding together, and Damien snorts as a gaseous smog fills the air.] Oh, piss off. I've inhaled crazier shit on Polly's clothes after she brushes her teeth.
Try harder, noob.
[He looks around for something, anything to throw. Just rocks, sigh...and they're sadly very flame retardant. This sucks. How the hell can he set things on fire if he doesn't have kerosene, lighter fluid, and a matchbox? I mean, the latter is relative - he can summon fire like no one's business, but a piddly flame is so lame. He wants a motherfucking BLAZE up in this bitch.]
Damien Lavey | Monster Prom
[BEST. DAY. EVER.
He has no goddamn clue what's going on - Damien was just getting ready to head into the Gym for class, finding himself in the dark with a shortsword in one hand (RAD), and a torch in the other. He half expected this to be some sort of stupid obstacle coarse Coach thought up to test them all, but it's so much better than that. ACTION! DRAMA!! BLOODSHED!!!!
These are a few of his favorite things. Mainly the last one, but u no.
So, coated in gore as he is, he's all but skipping down the twists and turns, driving his sword into pretty much everything he sees, grinning from ear to pointy, red ear. Thankfully, his heinous laughter gives him away, so if you see a literal demon coming your way with a sword trained on you...mmmaybe try and get him to stop. He might, it really depends on his mood. And, thankfully!! He's in a good mood!
Unfortunately, his good mood is spurred by the more blood and grime he drenches his sword with, but hey. It's better than a pissed off prince of Hell coming at you with a sword.]
C'MERE, SHITWAGON!!
---
One may call this a Wet Dream
[PUT HIM BACK IN THE MURDER MAZE, THAT WAS ACTUALLY FUN. This? This is Some Bullshit. The heat doesn't bother Damien - he's literally from Hell - but the water sure as heck doesn't agree with him. Of course, his stubborn and violent attitude still made him give fighting the ocean his best, sporting try, but...even he's not a complete idiot. Wading out when it got too much to handle, Damien makes his way up toward the mountain, swiping his forked tail angrily as he goes.]
Fuck! They couldn't have let me keep the sword?! Shit, I don't even have knives or anything! [He kicks a rock hard with his foot, sending it soaring....right into a cluster of lungblosoms. The grizzly-looking plants give a groan like two gears grinding together, and Damien snorts as a gaseous smog fills the air.] Oh, piss off. I've inhaled crazier shit on Polly's clothes after she brushes her teeth.
Try harder, noob.
[He looks around for something, anything to throw. Just rocks, sigh...and they're sadly very flame retardant. This sucks. How the hell can he set things on fire if he doesn't have kerosene, lighter fluid, and a matchbox? I mean, the latter is relative - he can summon fire like no one's business, but a piddly flame is so lame. He wants a motherfucking BLAZE up in this bitch.]