Information

Grant has a minion!

Gadriel the Naphal

Grant
Legacy Name: Grant

The

Custom Angelic Montre
Owner:

Vain

Age: 14 years, 4 months, 4 weeks

Born: November 26th, 2009

Adopted: 14 years, 4 months, 4 weeks ago

Adopted: November 26th, 2009

Pet Spotlight Winner
September 10th, 2012

Statistics

Level: 48
Strength: 61
Defense: 53
Speed: 10
Health: 10
HP: 10/10
Intelligence: 77
Books Read: 77
Food Eaten: 0
Job: Unemployed

when in rome

I sigh as I move around in my wobbly barstool, trying to get comfortable. With my chin balanced on my paw, I look around the room and continue to nurse my cold beer. This bar is much darker and smokier than the establishments I usually frequent, but when you're as desperate for a drink as I am at the moment, you'll take what you can get.

How did it come to this? How did I go from being the revered weapons-master of Heaven itself, to sitting alone in a human bar with nothing better to do? I helped win wars, for God's sake! I worked personally with Heaven's battle strategists to plan and wage wars - battles we always won thanks to my ingenious weapons. Now look at me. These days, I blend in far too well with the regular bar patrons glorified alcoholics who haven't realized how far they've fallen.

Why? What did I do that was so horrible that it gave them the right to kick me out of heaven? I mean, there was that tiny issue of showing humanity how to forge and use weapons, but I'm sure that God blew that whole situation way out of proportion. Humans kill each other every day - so what if I helped them do it more efficiently? Well, apparently the Almighty thought the situation far more grave than I. "You've unsettled the balance on Earth" He says. "Now you must fix your mistakes."

Groaning audibly at the reminder of my 'duties', I drop my head to the wooden surface of the bar. Even thinking back to that moment makes me sick to my stomach. Why of all things did I have to become a guardian of the portals between worlds and proverbial babysitter to humanity? It's a crock is what it is. Does God really think I'm going to bust my butt to keep these idiots from killing each other with their newly discovered weapons?

Yeah right, like that's going to happen. I'd rather spend my time on Earth experiencing the more enjoyable activities that life here has to offer. I want to drink until I've lost my money in the gutter, then go home for a lovely night with one of my many female companions. Is that so wrong? "When in Rome," right?