Post by -»Sloan on Jul 5, 2005 19:21:30 GMT -5
Grr this is the second time im doing this because of my stupid computer, so please dont hate me if im a little short on the details...
Name: Chelsloan [Shell-Sloan]Manson
Refered to as: Sloan
Age: 20
Gender: Female
Hair: Very Dark Brown
Eyes: Green
Skin: Olive
Society: None atm
Personality: Cynical and independant. Shes not a big bitch, but she wont be openly friendly unless she sees a good reason.
Apperance: Average height, Green eyes can be seen through bangs. Punkish looking.
Past: Mother in Jail, Father shot, passed around foster homes, until she was 18 wen she lived on the streets or wherever she could bunk.
Weapons : A Black, P10-9 Pistol.
www.arizonagunrunners.com/Products/ParaOrdnance/P109RR/p10-9.jpg
A Black Switch Blade
www.theknifeauction.com/uploaded/21975.jpg
Brass knuckles that shes almost always wearing.
www.admiralsawesomeknives.com/images/deathgamex.jpg
Pictures: To Be coming soon, see ones of Ashlee SImpson.
RP-ing Skills --->I Used TO play Donovan On HEre... Heres One of My Posts...
We want peace without
Patriot missiles,
Blown to bits are civilian targets,
Parade! Laugh! Rejoice! Sing!
We are the victors of...nothing,
Spend more money on a war,
Your people starving, turned to whores,
Slaves of the chosen one paying millions for each bomb...
Expertly sneaking into a window that led into the basement the dark figure blocked up the new entrance with a chair the was carelessly pushed aside... As he turned his back to the dark room , he froze, chair halfway forced through the small window... An olive tainted hand dropped to his holstered manurhin... Quietly grasping hold of it he suddenly spun, bhis motions falwless and he fired two shots into the direction of the noise... Disatisfied, when he knew he had not shot what ever it was in the heart he fired again, but the shuffle of footsteps, and the panting of... something did not stop... Infact it was nearing him slowely but definetly making process across the hall of the basement. Lip curled into a slight sneer as he fired higher into the head. Oh we humans love guns, and the deaths they cause... SIlently with some guilt of his manic pleasure he with making the point of looking around the dark room lindly, lowered the gun and scaled the walls.
Country without a race ,
Formed from people you disgrace ,
White right conservative might ,
Killers of Kennedy's with no fright ,
The American way!
He had been sure that he had heard voices, and loud ones... Some one had shouted, and others had too... Slight relief to find others caught him and forgetting his slight dislike in other humans he slunk in through the basement... He regretted it now, having to shoot something and now blindly searching for an opening that may reveal a staircase. Swearing just as the wall behind him fell away, landing on the rough wooden stairs with more colourful language. Turning to the upwards direction he stood uneasily and groped for the railing to guide him before he climbed up the stairs and into the light...
Freedom cried the marching man,
Flags ripped out of their black hands ,
Beaten! Slain! Tortured! Killed!
Their only mistake was being born here ,
Invade countries just for oil ,
Send your troops all down to boil ,
Iraq! Grenada! Nam and Chile!
Truman doctrine our own way...
Eyes widening as he saw the girl in the red dress before the gun pointed at her, and the guns captor nervousl standing with stress of what he guessed a suprise... dark orbs drifted to the other male and then to the wound... Did the girl with the upraised gun shoot him? Without backing away, he regarded her with a wary eye, before he decided to enter.... A growling tone errupted his average sized mass in questioning of what was happening...
"Whats going on?"
Country without a race ,
Formed from people you disgrace ,
White right conservative might ,
Killers of Kennedy's with no fright ,
The American way!
Refered to as: Sloan
Age: 20
Gender: Female
Hair: Very Dark Brown
Eyes: Green
Skin: Olive
Society: None atm
Personality: Cynical and independant. Shes not a big bitch, but she wont be openly friendly unless she sees a good reason.
Apperance: Average height, Green eyes can be seen through bangs. Punkish looking.
Past: Mother in Jail, Father shot, passed around foster homes, until she was 18 wen she lived on the streets or wherever she could bunk.
Weapons : A Black, P10-9 Pistol.
www.arizonagunrunners.com/Products/ParaOrdnance/P109RR/p10-9.jpg
A Black Switch Blade
www.theknifeauction.com/uploaded/21975.jpg
Brass knuckles that shes almost always wearing.
www.admiralsawesomeknives.com/images/deathgamex.jpg
Pictures: To Be coming soon, see ones of Ashlee SImpson.
RP-ing Skills --->I Used TO play Donovan On HEre... Heres One of My Posts...
We want peace without
Patriot missiles,
Blown to bits are civilian targets,
Parade! Laugh! Rejoice! Sing!
We are the victors of...nothing,
Spend more money on a war,
Your people starving, turned to whores,
Slaves of the chosen one paying millions for each bomb...
Expertly sneaking into a window that led into the basement the dark figure blocked up the new entrance with a chair the was carelessly pushed aside... As he turned his back to the dark room , he froze, chair halfway forced through the small window... An olive tainted hand dropped to his holstered manurhin... Quietly grasping hold of it he suddenly spun, bhis motions falwless and he fired two shots into the direction of the noise... Disatisfied, when he knew he had not shot what ever it was in the heart he fired again, but the shuffle of footsteps, and the panting of... something did not stop... Infact it was nearing him slowely but definetly making process across the hall of the basement. Lip curled into a slight sneer as he fired higher into the head. Oh we humans love guns, and the deaths they cause... SIlently with some guilt of his manic pleasure he with making the point of looking around the dark room lindly, lowered the gun and scaled the walls.
Country without a race ,
Formed from people you disgrace ,
White right conservative might ,
Killers of Kennedy's with no fright ,
The American way!
He had been sure that he had heard voices, and loud ones... Some one had shouted, and others had too... Slight relief to find others caught him and forgetting his slight dislike in other humans he slunk in through the basement... He regretted it now, having to shoot something and now blindly searching for an opening that may reveal a staircase. Swearing just as the wall behind him fell away, landing on the rough wooden stairs with more colourful language. Turning to the upwards direction he stood uneasily and groped for the railing to guide him before he climbed up the stairs and into the light...
Freedom cried the marching man,
Flags ripped out of their black hands ,
Beaten! Slain! Tortured! Killed!
Their only mistake was being born here ,
Invade countries just for oil ,
Send your troops all down to boil ,
Iraq! Grenada! Nam and Chile!
Truman doctrine our own way...
Eyes widening as he saw the girl in the red dress before the gun pointed at her, and the guns captor nervousl standing with stress of what he guessed a suprise... dark orbs drifted to the other male and then to the wound... Did the girl with the upraised gun shoot him? Without backing away, he regarded her with a wary eye, before he decided to enter.... A growling tone errupted his average sized mass in questioning of what was happening...
"Whats going on?"
Country without a race ,
Formed from people you disgrace ,
White right conservative might ,
Killers of Kennedy's with no fright ,
The American way!
