Urn
Fierce - Hostile - Reckless
Pet Information
Pet Name: Urn
Owner: Valkyrie
Theme / Type: Phantom Belragoth
Born: January 12, 2009
Gender: Male
Mood: Mad
MisticPal Name: Toxin
MisticPal Age: 4477 Days
Battle Portal Stats
Hit Points: 8 / 8
Strength: 5
Defense: 6
Speed: 4
Intellect: 5
Misticpower: 4
Battles Won: 0
Battles Lost: 0
| Attached Weapons | |
Books Read
Books Read: None
Exotic Foods Eaten
Foods Eaten: 5/1254 [ View Foods ]
1. - Green Candy Corn
2. - Na Pomme
3. - Northern Pomme
4. - Pomme Pomme
5. - Scort
2. - Na Pomme
3. - Northern Pomme
4. - Pomme Pomme
5. - Scort
Pet Profile
That the little girl was loved: of that there was no doubt. Her hair was a fiery red that shone like a polished gem in the dim light of Between. Her lacy dress was of the finest silk, the tatting alone would cost enough to feed a family of urchins for a month. Urn, tipped his head to better regard her spoiled countenance (though not to far.) If by some chance he tipped his head to far to the right or left: his thoughts would fall out of his ears. No one had told him this, but he knew it with the unshakeable faith of a self flailing religious zealot. Now there would be a sight to behold he mused and chased the thought briefly like a dog happily pursuing a butterfly through the tall grass.
The angry stamp of a satin slippered foot brought him back to situation at hand. Urn shook himself physically to rid the images which sent the pale smoke of lost dreams coalescing around his visage, “tell me again, what have you lost?” he rumbled.
“My brush! My silver brush that Grandmama gave me for behaving on the ferry,” the child looked anything but well behaved at the moment and more in need of a good whack he thought.
“A brush you say? Well, we can have that now can we?” He unfurled himself from his perch and landed with a thump beside her. Resplendent in her lacy Victorian dress and defended by the considerable length of her nose which she gazed past to look up at him, she only blinked at his massive personage and waited for him to preform on her whim. He reached a taloned paw for the door and paused,” this place isn't safe you know.”
“I don't care,” she pouted and fidgeting with a silken lock of hair.
Again, he reached for the door and stopped “You may never return you know.” He was stating a fact.
“But it's mine,” she asserted as if were her shield and lance against the unknown.
Once more he reach out to touch the opalescent surface of the door to the Lost Place and looked back at her, “perhaps you should come back anoth-”
“Open it NOW!!!” she shrilled, her kitten soft hands hooking into talons. Urn found the angry little bubble of spit in the corner of her mouth quite amusing and paused yet again to see more of this incredible performance. Her lovely face became flushed as angry blood rushed to her cheeks. A small vein appeared at her temple and pulsed manically. “Open the damn door or I will wear your teeth around my neck like pearls for Sunday socials!”
His teeth would look good around the milk white throat, he thought and calmly opened the door. The little dear gave him a victorious smirk and skipped past him into the Lost. His foot lifted of it's own violation and with detached amusement he watch as her ruffled rump received a well placed kick. Before the howl could reach his ears he slammed the door shut behind her.
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