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originally posted in:The Black Garden
5/4/2014 5:01:08 PM
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The wind whipped around her as she tucked into the hollow, bracing her gun to her chest. She had lived by its end for twenty three years. Well, she had learned to shoot at a young age, given. Her eyes were safe behind the helmet she wore, and her cape kept the scouring sands away from her for the most part. The zephyr died down, and she was able to tread on. She was on the look out for Fallen, having seen them in the area, and needed supplies. They ate most of the same foodstuffs that Humans did, so scavenging and outright taking it from them was not beyond her scope of survival. Oh, yes, she could go to the Tower and buy some, but that was too easy, she wanted some adventure out of it. Her footsteps were light on the ground as she made her careful way, certain not to disturb anything that might give away her position. But that was not needed. A pair of Fallen had been tracking her for the last fifteen minutes, hiding when she hid, moving when she moved, not even her ghost could tell her they were moving in for the kill. [ just make a post that replies to this one, we'll get to know eachothers characters as we go]
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  • The glaring sun reflected off his visor as he scanned the vast plain, crawling closer to the ground when he noticed movement in the far distance. Looking through the scope of the rifle it appears to be just the wind stirring up debris.. exhaling slowly in relief, he picks up his rifle tossing it to his backside, it hanging on a tater strap across his shoulder.. he makes his way from the top hill side and down onto the plains. After a while of walking, his ghost's light dim and it alerts with cautious concern that he is in dangerous territory. He effortless said with a sigh, "Yeah.. I know ghost.. but I have to do this, if I am to be apart of the faction..". The ghost replied, "It would have been wise to attempt this mission with a fire team". Kazhooulte responded with silence.. he tread slowly at noticing Fallen footsteps on the ground.. the tracks were fresh and he proceeded to follow, crouching low, hand firmly gripping the handle of his sheath blade.

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