| Shale | |
|---|---|
 "Now, let us crush something soft and watch it fountain blood. That is a girlish thing to want to do, yes?" | |
| Status | Alive |
| General | |
| Race | Golem |
| Age | Around 1200 |
| Birth Date | |
| Gender | Neither (used to be female) |
| Sexual Orientation | Asexual |
| Hometown | Unknown -- likely the Cadash Thaig |
| Residence | Honnleath, Ferelden. Although, reside isn't quite the right term... |
| Affiliation | Herself. May eventually run with the Wardens, however, she is her own... person. |
| Occupation | Statue |
| Combat | |
| Class | Warrior |
| Specialization | Golem |
| Gear | Crystals (Oooh! Pretty.) |
| Behind the Mask | |
| Player | Shale |
| Face Claim | |
| Profile Link | Here |
Another long, painfully dull night had begun, and Honnleath was quiet and still. Shale amused herself by counting the stars... again. Last time, it had come to 1,274. One. Two. Three. Four.
Just then, a couple of the fleshy things came stumbling down the street toward her, linked at the lips like some drunken crab-human beast. They groped at each other luridly. Oh. Wonderful. Another delightful episode in "Making Mini Meat-Creatures: The Disgusting Part".
They were giggling incessantly, between locking lips, and whispering in the dark. They lurched their way nearer, before plopping down at her statue feet. They sighed, and moaned, and giggled frequently there, as Shale just wished to whatever god might be listening in to be able to crush them, just this once. It would be a mercy killing. As they began to strip each other's clothes, Shale realized with horror what was to happen next.
This was.... This was worse than pigeons.