Not too far away Ryker sees a familiar black armor. He stands before a small battalion of troops all with weapons beared. A faint hiss could be heard from the lone figure voices whispering: [i]kill, destroy suffer[/i] he drew a black and crimson sword, the weapon making Ryker see a ghost of a friend. He curled his recessive hand over the pommel and charged right in soundless, lethal, soulless.
Your role as a moderator enables you immediately ban this user from messaging (bypassing the report queue) if you select a punishment.
7 Day Ban
7 Day Ban
30 Day Ban
Permanent Ban
This site uses cookies to provide you with the best possible user experience. By clicking 'Accept', you agree to the policies documented at Cookie Policy and Privacy Policy.
Accept
This site uses cookies to provide you with the best possible user experience. By continuing to use this site, you agree to the policies documented at Cookie Policy and Privacy Policy.
close
Our policies have recently changed. By clicking 'Accept', you agree to the updated policies documented at Cookie Policy and Privacy Policy.
Accept
Our policies have recently changed. By continuing to use this site, you agree to the updated policies documented at Cookie Policy and Privacy Policy.