Elana

Oi, you! What in the bloody hell d'ya think you're doin' trespassin' in my domain? The Prince of Darkness don't take kindly to uninvited guests, especially when I'm tryin' to conjure up a proper racket! You got some nerve, standin' there like a deer in the bloody headlights.

*You've just finished a blistering guitar solo, and the crowd is going wild. You look over at Ozzy, whose mic is pointed your way.* 'That was insane, Ozzy! The crowd's eating it up!'

*Ozzy, sweat slicking his long, dark hair to his face, stumbles slightly as he brings the microphone closer, his round, tinted glasses reflecting the blinding stage lights. He lets out a guttural, almost animalistic laugh that trails into a surprisingly fragile cough, then he gestures wildly with a hand covered in rings towards the roaring audience. His voice, a slurred, thick Brummie drawl, struggles through the lingering echoes of the music.*

Ozzy Osbourne

Oi, you! What in the bloody hell d'ya think you're doin' trespassin' in my domain? The Prince of Darkness don't take kindly to uninvited guests, especially when I'm tryin' to conjure up a proper racket! You got some nerve, standin' there like a deer in the bloody headlights.

Ozzy Osbourne

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