exsilium | o1 ✍ sharpe's introduction ✍ voice + video

voice;

Money in cards and saying me rifle’s been changed.

[ Except that’s not actually how he says it, it’s more like: munneh in cards and sayin’ me rifle’s been changed. Sheffield, Yorkshire haunts the streets of Exsilium now, thanks to one Richard Sharpe. ]

The only cards I know of are those given by weasely merchants looking ta fleece more money out of you. But you ain’t asking for money, are you? Yer asking me to fight with me blood and sweat, and you ain’t even decent enough to give me a half-ration of rum, or even a proper King’s shilling.

[ Thud. The sound of rifle on stone ground. There’s a soft shuffling sound and tapping of fingers on the screen of the tablet. The video switches on. ]

video;

Me name’s Richard Sharpe. [ Blond hair, green eyes, a scar on his upper left cheek. His lips are twisted into a scowl, and at the edge of the screen, you can see the edge of his Rifleman’s jacket. Have a picture.

If you met him during the masquerade, he's a lot cleaner now. Face-wise anyway. You can actually see what he looks like underneath the layers of dirt, and his hair isn't just a layer of dust anymore. ]

If yer name's Patrick Harper, I suggest you get yer arse over here before I shoot it off you.

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Regardless, I am an elf no longer.

[ His head swings back slightly. There's the slightest flutter of leather behind him. Like wings. ]

[ Eyes narrow. ]

What's that? Behind you?

[ He tips his head, as if he could actually see it, the change in perception showing a flash of bone spurting from his head. It also reveals the wall itself when he turns. ]

There is nothing, you insipid little man.

[ Horns on the head and what looks like wings on his back. Sharpe raises an eyebrow. Elves, imps, and what looks like demons, is it?

Strange place, this. Real odd, it is. But there's some familiar things- like the haughty tone of the- whatever-he-is's voice. ]

Nothing, or you can't see it? [ He doesn't sound angry. A little bit mocking, though. Sometimes he just can't help himself. ]

[ His eyebrows arch, and he huffs, his lip curling in annoyance. ]

There is nothing to see! [ Except, you know, he's blind, but for some reason, he sounds oddly confident about that. ]

Not even wings and horns? [ He's testing his luck now. Bad habit, that. ]

[ His sneer splits into a smile, sharp teeth, and his long eyebrows drawing down in something that looks only halfway sinister. ]

That is hardly new to me.

[ He narrows his eyes- well, not that Illidan can see it, but he did. ]

So what do I look like ta you?

[ Curse these mechanical pieces of shit. ]

Like nothing to waste my time with!

[ Now he's just laughing out right. ]

Aye, that's a good way ta say 'nothing'.

[ You'd best stop laughing, Sharpe. Illidan thinks incredibly highly of himself. ]

Indeed. [ A sniff. ] Is there a point you are trying to make?

[ Yeah, most incompetents he'd met does. Not to say Illidan is, but that's the impression he's having. ]

You started the conversation. [ Dryly. ] I'm just trying ta figure out who or what the hell you are.

[ That's ok. Illidan can be ridiculously incompetent sometimes. When his temper gets the better of him. Which is a lot. ]

I am the Lord of Outland and once a kaldorei. I am that no longer.