<div class="floatleft">(https://i.pinimg.com/564x/2f/f8/b6/2ff8b6327f323407ec8153f38d2671a5.jpg)</div><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"><strong>Name:</strong> Pharon Draelig (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=341089.msg16147073#msg16147073)<br/><strong>Dragon Type:</strong> Darkness<br/><strong>Wearing:</strong> Dragon Slayer Armor w/ Hooded Cloak<br/><strong>Date/Time:</strong> 4 April 2050, Midnight.<br/><strong>Location:</strong> Oriental District<br/><strong>Tagging:</strong> Oslow Goodborne, Brook<br/><strong>Word Count:</strong> 394</span><br/><hr/><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"> After Brook had been so kind as to open her home and refrigerator to him for the past few days, it became quickly and <em>very</em> apparent that the largest of the Slayers would eat her out of house and home in days if not shorter if something wasn't done. He couldn't blame her for her worries, as even back home the King made sure they were well-fed, and feeding half a dozen Dragon Slayers at once was equivalent to feeding an entire barn of horses and cows for the week. One would think being as large and in charge as Pharon himself, finding something to do to bring some income to his new sanctuary would be easy, but that wasn't the case as here he was several days later feeling awful for twiddling his thumbs in a strange, new world. <br/><br/>Today was another day though, and now he and Brook were walking around the city trying to figure out a plan. She was too kind to kick him out despite the issues he brought, so it was all the more important to him that he find a way to repay that unnecessary kindness. He just wished he knew <em>something</em> of this world aside from the information Brook had and was providing, as knowing nothing meant his only true worthwhile talent at the moment was killing dragons. As they walked and talked, Pharon racked his brain trying to figure out a way to help, and to make matters worse, out of nowhere, his stomach began to growl loudly. A look of embarrassment crossed his face, as him being hungry usually meant Brook would end up paying the price. <br/><br/>"I'm sorry, I can't control it. I'm used to eating a lot, and often, so my stomach hasn't quite come to terms with the regime change yet." Rubbing his pained tummy, he looked up and saw a spectacularly colorful and strange "truck", as Brook had explained to him they were called. "Can I get something from there? Something <em>small</em>? Just to satiate me? Maybe just a <em>burger</em> and something to drink?" If someone told you an 8-foot-tall man could look adorable when he begged, you'd probably think them a liar. But after seeing the deep amethyst purple of his eyes and an expert wibble of his lip? Brook knew the truth.<br/></span>