Markus et Drasil  
Emplacement : Académie Pakora
  

Vous avez entendu? Très bien! Ça veut dire que je n'ai pas à me répéter sur tes putains énormes cornes Horny! C'est à son grand plaisir que la jeune fille avec les melons s'est gratifiée à la fois et son propriétaire avec sa présence divine, un éclat qui semblait réchauffer même les os non-morts. Ou peut-être que c'était juste quelque chose d'autre. Tu es encore plus grand, badabooom!
Markus n'a pas semblé partager son enthousiasme d'arme et a plutôt rencontré Taura avec le même regard neutre qu'il a donné à tout le monde. Elle semblait, comme beaucoup, exceller dans l'art de l'observation et de l'évidence. Connaissant que son arme allait probablement s'immiscer devant lui, l'indécédé vient de s'incliner pour répondre à sa question par l'affirmative. Et vous êtes?
Pourtant, à sa surprise, quelqu'un qui n'était pas son arme de destruction répondit devant lui. Un autre élève de ce qu'il pouvait dire, et un homme à ça. Markus marcha sur le côté tandis que le nouveau-né tranchait la jeune fille comme un membre en colère de la presse respectable, renversant une offre pour un autographe avant de révéler le nom de la jeune fille à tout le monde dans la région.
"Taura"? Oh wow! C'est pas vrai! Oui, c'est un nom de taureau. Pas plein de conneries si tu comprends ce que je veux dire? Badabooom!- Le pistolet a continué à dire, physiquement rattrapé maintenant dans l'holster Markus. Le non-mort a ouvert la bouche pour essayer d'obtenir un mot dans le sens des bords, mais même alors, il serait interrompu par un autre tiers. Ascot trouverait par la suite un cahier et un stylo arrachés de ses mains, non par aucune force physique, mais par une puissante rafale de vent.
Comme s'il s'agissait d'un appel, il s'agissait d'un coup de pied droit vers le petit groupe avant qu'un bras s'accrochât dur à l'épaule de Taura. Ce bras appartenait à une fille grincheuse. Elle a vu tout le monde, mais surtout à Taura et Ascot. Et qu'est-ce que tu crois faire? Elle a demandé à tous les deux, voix qui s'enfonce déjà dans le sifflement comme une rafale de vent.

,,,
Markus ✣ Damon 
Height: 175 cm ✣ Weight: 87 kg ✣ Age: 400 Years
  
"I’ve never tried."

 ✣ Name: Markus Damon
 ✣ Age: 400 
 ✣ Gender: Male
 ✣ Race: Undead
 ✣ P O W E R S ✣
Being a corpse has its perks; Markus is able to perform feats living flesh would have difficulty in performing. As such, he’s able to put in a little flair and acrobatics in his fighting style while also under the protection of a slow regeneration process to his body. His revolver, aptly named Marchosias, is said to contain the soul of a power demon lord and as such, is a very effective tool against angels and other holy beings. Some say the gun’s true persona can even manifest from time to time… 
 ✣ P E R S O N A L I T Y ✣
A dark and brooding student, Markus keeps to himself with a stoic frown permanently glued to his features. What was perhaps once a raging soul that snarled to the heavens is now a walking corpse, the rage that had compelled him to walk the earth once more now nothing more but dull embers in his eyes. Still, that doesn’t stop him from attending classes. Markus is primarily direct and blunt in his wording, often succeeding in putting off other students when being approached. Few things are able to incite more than a frown from him but one would assume memories of his life as once living flesh would stir up that familiar rage lying dormant inside. One would think of course.
 ✣ B A C K G R O U N D ✣
Markus remembers little of his life among the living and what he does recall are things he’d rather leave unsaid. Faint images of a grand, white house stand most prevalent along with the smell of ash and cinder. The taste of dirt rots in his bones and the gaze of a corpse is what ally and foe alike meet when meeting his eyes. This hasn’t stop some from speculating about his origins though. Some say he was the son of a rich noble who was burned along with the sins of his corrupt family. Others state that he was betrayed in a violent gang war, his body riddled with bullets and death. Whatever the case may be, his original murderers are long since dead; of that, he has made sure of. Why he’s attending school is anyone else’s guess. 

 ✣ Theme ✣ 
  
 ⍣ Drasil ⍣ 
Height: 172 cm ⍣ Weight: 54 kg ⍣ Age: ??? Years
  
"Make your bed already!"

 ⍣ Name: Drasil
 ⍣ Age: ??? 
 ⍣ Gender: Female
 ⍣ Race: Celestial Spirit
 ⍣ P O W E R S ⍣
The skies of the earth serve as the source for Drasil's power. With them she is able to conure up buffeting winds and cyclones of destruction to crush her foes...or just sweep them away to some place she doesn't need to look at them. Case in point, it's probably not a good idea to anger her as outbursts generally lead to a tornado or two. Maybe even a hurricane if she's really pissed off. 
 ⍣ P E R S O N A L I T Y ⍣
Gentle as the wind but as deadly as a storm ready to go off. Really, it's hard to manage the two extremes that make up Drasil's personality but more often than not she falls into the latter. Some call her bossy and others call her nagging; she likes to think her advice helps people and if they obtain consequence for not following it, well that's on them. She's quick to anger but surprisingly easy to distract when one knows the right methods. Usually though she tries to mean well, the message being maintained but the delivery leaving much to be desired. Oddly enough she as a deep seated hatred for germs and sloppiness.
 ⍣ B A C K G R O U N D ⍣
When natural storms occur, it's usually because Drasil is yelling at someone. That's about it really. No lame backstory, no dramatic origin; just a girl who gets loud when people get stupid. And the stupidest one of them all has to be that thick-horned lazy bum and her bullshit. Honestly, if it weren't for the fact that they were technically co-workers, she'd have kicked Taura off of the planet by now. But alas, the bum bull just had to go and enroll in some weird school. Not going to let her blow up the place, Drasil was quick to follow. It wasn't like she actually liked the dummy or anything like that...stupid...

 ⍣ Theme ⍣