Senri reached up and broke one side off with his claw to help then get it out. Then he laied down to let then get to work.
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Zeph tries to get up again, this time in a blaze of pain, he howls as his bones crack and his body refuses to move, his legs spazz from the irritated Nerves and he's forced to lay back down, He looks at the sky. Moments ago he was fit as a feather getting his head bashed in by Bunny girls. Now he was maimed and beaten by Sea creatures. Would he live to reach level 3 of this deadly game?
Senri Sticks out his Tonge with a splinter in it. Orange just shakes her head at what Senri did. Senri pulled it out and closes his mouth. Then the taste of blood was there in his mouth and he started licking the top of it like a dog with some peanut butter would if it was on the roof of its mouth.
"Eat?" said a voice hovering over them. "I sure could use something to eat…"
The group (at least, those of the group still conscious) looked upwards to find a man standing in the air, gaunt faced with hunger, black hair tangled with mud and twigs. They could smell him despite the good ten feet between them.
-Sorry, never read page 2.-
Name: Dirk
Age: 32
Sex: Male
Appearance: Black hair. Gaunt. Slightly more muscular than lithe would entail. Seemingly frail. Walks like he's drunk all the time.
Personality: A dirty and rather argumentative pessimist. While he's not exactly charismatic, he isn't the guy that mobs drive out of town.
Special Traits: blank, Weapons Expert, Illiterate
Favorite Character: N/A.
"Wait a second…" he said, catching the chicken wing… "If I'm up here and you're down there… Oh shit." He plummeted to the floor like a graceless falcon, his chin cracking hard into the wood flooring. It felt, he thought, a lot like pain, so he ruled out the possibility of this being a dream. Instead of the obvious question of "Where am I?" he proceeded to howl out explatives at the top of his lungs. It was apparent that he had never brushed his teeth in his life.
Struggling to his feet and clutching his chin, the leg of turkey on the floor forgotten, he looks around while cursing under his breath. He then felt at his side. His sword was missing, too.
Zeph even in his unconsious state could still smell Dirk's foul rank odor, he coughed up blood as a result, his lungs were easily irritated and the blow to the head had done none better to fix his ailments. He looked at Dirk, he wished badly to plug his nose and run around screaming "OH MY FRIGGIN GOD MAN TAKE A SHOWER FOR THE LOVE OF!" But he couldn't barely make out 3 words. "Kit…ty… wa..te.r… please…" And he only used breath on what he needed. His throat was parched, and he needed something to clear out the blood with.
After finally recovering from the shock of the landing, Dirk turned to face the group of strangers. What facinated him the most was that they all seemed so clean. Well, that and their dress. He looked over his own garb; a dark tunic and loose breeches with a heavy leather belt. He wasn't even wearing shoes; he'd worn them out at least a week ago.
"I don't suppose any of you would know where I could find a hostel? I'm… new to the area and be honest, I have no idea where I am." He sniffed. "And I could use a bath."
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