Description

Personality

Personality: As we learned earlier, Kale is from a slightly strange background. So far, he has portrayed the traits of a normal citizen, howbeit with high abilities, and then in one instance, and many since, has proved to be cold and calm in the face of things that a normal person would quake. He has never known fear, having been born only recently and never exposed to it. Any danger he falls into is simply another challenge or obstacle standing in the way of a cause he is unaware of.

Random: Kale loves music. Not a year past his exile he had something implanted behind both ears, an object that has stored every piece of music ever cataloged on the Multi-Verse Musical Library and Consortium. At times, he will slip the device into shuffle and allow the songs to dictate his attacks, which usually prove prophetic.

Equipment

Staff: This weapon is, in its normal state, six feet in length and almost purely silver in color. As is his nature, the staff has properties of both technical inclination, as well as elemental. The material it is made from is called Aedynite, something found only upon his former home world. Aedynite has thus far proven to be virtually unbreakable. To construct anything with the metal it must be heated for seven days at a steady fifty-four thousand degrees, and only then becomes malleable and able to shape or carve into. For all of its strength though, the object is almost lighter than would be its wooden counterpart. Blessed with the words of the Elder, the staff retains a form of its softness, in that he is able to bend it at will, though not for long periods of time, and not in half, of course.

Pose 1: In its original form, the staff is just that, a staff. The only thing setting it apart from the norm is the fact that it can extend up to one hundred yards, much like a Nioybol. It is not known exactly how this is accomplished, as the staff looses none of its strength or thickness, only that it was blessed to do so, and thus it does.

Pose 2: At one end of the staff there sits a circular band, which wraps around the staff twice, about two inches wide, and engraved with several cogs and lines. Once activated this band emits an azure glow, and causes the air around it to shimmer slightly. What it is doing is drawing in atoms from the air, charging them within the staff, and awaiting release. The total time for a small charge is three seconds. The longer the staff’s engine is activated and pulling in material, the bigger the charge. Upon release, the end of the staff pushes out a wave of electromagnetic energy in the form of a 360-degree pulse. The EMP portion of the pulse has the capabilities to knock out or destroy different types of electronics, unless shielded. The force of the actual pulse, depending on strength, is much like a release of kinetic energy, in that it pushes everything away.

Pose 3: at the other end of the staff, there are other lines and shapes etched into the surface. Four lines run from the tip of the weapon to one and a half feet down, then several across those four, creating what looks to be longitude and latitude lines. Once activated each line glows silver for a split second before the end of the staff unfolds. What it can unfold to depends on Kale’s will. The new transformation consists of three blades; normally it will be a single blade protruding from the tip of the staff, a half-moon blade from the left side, and a single blade from the right. The blades can be interchanged within to produce other combinations.

Pose 4: Simply a combination of all poses.

Gauntlet: A creation of his own mind, manifested in the mixing of elemental magic and technology. It appears to emerge from the skin of his right arm and wrap itself then around the lower half of his forearm and his entire hand. The color of the Gauntlet will normally reflect which element he last used, or that he is closest to. Each manifestation of the object has the potential to take on its attribute, of the elements. If he uses raw material in the creation it will be just that much stronger, if he uses his own elemental magic it will be strong, but not as strong as it could be.

Normal/Air: Under normal circumstances, the Gauntlet will be a dark silver in color, and will act more as a second weapon to complement his staff more than anything. The strength of the talons and his grip will be magnified ten fold over what he would normally be capable of. In this state, he is able to call spikes from random places along the surface, as needed, or create projectile weapons only as large as nails, though the amount of them he can create is unlimited over time. With air being the element used in this creation, he can to some extent create wind gusts, though the power depends on how long he lets it charge. If he is actually in wind, the charge will be much faster, and much stronger. He is able to create a shield of air that forms from the back of his hand and extends for roughly six feet in all directions, but is able to stop almost nothing stronger than normal bullets or bladed strikes.

Earth: If earth --stone, dirt, sand, etc.-- is used in the creation the Gauntlet will be a dark brown in color, and will focus more on strength and defense. The shield he can create is able to stop missile attacks, mid-level energy attacks, etc., unless charged more and specifically for a shield.

Water: If water is used, the Gauntlet will be light blue in color. As water is an element that he can create, he can channel that creation through the weapon to heighten its power. If touching an object, he would also be able to draw moisture from said object. Being a part of the water element, with the Gauntlet activated he would be able to create ice, something he cannot do on his own.

Fire: Gauntlet would be light red, and as fire is one of the almost uncontrollable elements, this creation would seem to shimmer and change shapes. The air about his body tends to shift in and out of focus, as it perpetually radiates heat ranging from two thousand degrees to three thousand. When in use his body cannot use any other element in attack, as his internal elemental is steadily producing large amounts of water to keep his skin from burning. For attacks the FG is fairly versatile, as he has had to learn to use it without elemental mixing or being able to hold weapons in that hand. As such, he has a vast arsenal to choose from, ranging from a sword crafted from fire to fire balls. His flames can reach temperatures of six thousand degrees before he starts to endanger his own flesh.

Lightening/Electricity: If created from either of these elements the Gauntlet will shimmer much the same as with Fire, but different shades of blue-white. In this state, he can produce electrical currents for attack, or cause his creation to produce magnetic fields, though of course not very large.

Shadow: Not a normal class of elements, and not one that he enjoys using, but the Shadow Gauntlet has proven useful. Only useable at night, when shadows true reign is felt, the darkness has to be almost complete in order to gather enough to create it. Once activated, it makes Kale harder to see and pinpoint, not invisible by any means, just less substantial. The attacks are somewhat limited to extended talons that cause coldness and Hounds. The Hounds are mindless shadow beasts that are flung from the Gauntlet, upon landing they grow twice as large as a wolf, and take on its aspects in looks. They only last a few minutes, but in those minutes, they have the power to hunt down and entrap their, Kale’s, prey. They radiate a fear that can almost paralyze a person, and if bitten excrete a type of short-lived poison that causes immobility and a slight rottening of the flesh around the bite.

Death: In the same class as the Shadow Gauntlet, but able to be used day or night. This is created from truly dead flesh, but only from someone that has been recently killed, as it takes a piece of their soul in its form of magic. The main attribute of this one is plague. It creates the same spikes as any of the other incarnations, but makes them small and more numerous. They carry the ability to infect anything or anyone hit, causing the target, if alive, to become violently ill and incapacitated. If a person is killed while this Gauntlet is activated, it is believed that their soul becomes forfeit and can be drained by the DG, its energy then converted into power to feed Kale and strengthen his attributes, and if the person killed contained power, to impart that to him as well, after a fashion.

Gauntlet Convergence: This will be an ability brought forth through RP and Sparring, but in time the Gauntlet will spread, gradually being called over more of his body, until it forms a single unit of armor.





Power: Kale was born from Technocratic and Mystic blood, which has given way to his mixed attributes. From his Tech line he has inherited a form of techno-path, being able to change some instruments of technical objects to suit a purpose solely his own.

His more dominant side is that of the Mystics, their blood actually containing properties of magic. Though he has not yet tapped into his true power, for now he makes due with created and manipulating the elements. He has dedicated the majority of his time to the basic elements: Air, Water, Fire, Earth, and Lightening. Through these, he can create various attacks and defenses, mainly spur of the moment types. As with his Gauntlets, if he uses the actual natural element for an attack, which would be manipulation, it is much stronger than if he produces it with his own body.


Ring of Light: Upon his right ring finger, Kale wears a silver ring, plain with no inscriptions or identifying marks. It was something found with him and kept with him. He has no idea as to its purpose or promise, only that it is bound to him and has never left his finger.

Tattoo: The tattoo on his left shoulder is black, seeming to drink in the light whenever exposed to it. It, as was the ring, is something he has had from the moment of his creation. He is not aware of it yet, but when as his power grows, so does the claw, slowly reaching up his neck and down his arm. Purpose, as with the ring, is unknown.

History

The field stank of death, the slowly dying, and the stench of already rotting flesh. Craven birds of the night flocked among blood splattered remains, black masses of feather and meat vying for a chance to rip at the melting tissue that was once life. Black eyes and red tinged beaks tore and snatched at skin, shrill voices piercing the night that was clouded with the last remains of mortality.

Days of grueling battle had at long last fallen into silence, the silence that brings about the ghosts of the past lives lived among those fallen, the soulless powers of the planet’s last breaths. A sigh echoed up from the depths of the earth, slowly washing along the crimson painted planes of a once mighty civilization. Across ruined lands it passed, crying in silent agony as it felt the pulling away of each of its children. Its pain fled the fields, seeking the skies for its peace, its hope of life returning, but even in those empty places, it found fowl filled with her children, bellies swollen with the meat of humanity.

In that silent abyss, the planet screamed.



Bone and sinew crunched beneath the hard soles of his booted feet, the sound of coagulated blood squished against leather brought a smile to his pallid face. The smell of decaying bodies rose to his nostrils in almost visible waves, filling his lungs with power and glee. Slowly he bent toward the ground, his black gloved hand reaching and taking hold of an exposed, flayed arm. With a tug, he jerked it free of its former master, a sickening sound of flesh and bones snapping accompanying his tug.

With another smile, he lifted the arm to the sky in what would have once been a sign of victory, but was now nothing more than cruel disrespect. At once black creatures flocked to his body, surrounding his form and swirling into a mass of biting and squawking birds. In seconds, the arm was reduced to a splintered husk of a bone, the remaining pieces of blood falling from the white-yellow surface to drip onto his nude body. He reveled in the feeling of the filth as it rolled down his shoulders, then across his chest, falling to land within the dark patch of hair resting between his powerful thighs.


“Argoth, you sicken me.” A voice sounded from behind him, causing the God to close his eyes in sweet joy. Slowly he turned, the skinless arm still raised high into the air, a solitary ravenous bird perching upon the tip of its forearm. Down his naked body ran streaks of the dead man’s blood, a tattooed pattern with no meaning.

“Ah, Brother. You came, did you?” Argoth said, his voice flowing through the air as water upon water. The other man to whom he spoke was garbed in armor, armor shining as brightly as the suns of the dying world had once shone. They were of equal height and of the same muscular build, though Argoth sported midnight black hair while his brother preferred none.

“Of course I came, you knew that I would.” The God of Light looked around slowly, his face fallen and cheeks hollow. The death of all those present could be seen reflected within that soulless and sorrowful gaze. “I should have come sooner, but…”

Argoth laughed, a laugh befitting the name of ‘Mad God’, as they on this planet called him.

“You couldn’t because of that stupid, foolish pact!” He laughed again, dropping the arm and causing the bird to take sudden flight. The arm fell among the bodies, drawing the gaze of the other God, his ashen face growing paler.

“That pact was made to protect mankind from God kind…” His voice was soft, almost regretful.

“And look what that has brought about! Not that I mind it you see…” Argoth smiled, then took a step forward and put a hand to his brother’s shoulder. “You see Alroth; sometimes they cannot be left to themselves. All they know how to do is destroy and kill. They must be guided.”

Alroth shook his head slowly, shaking free of the Dark God’s grasp, and at the same time thinking clothes into existence for his brother, who until now was clad only in boots, gloves, and blood. The dark attire settled around the other’s frame as a second skin.

“Not always, brother… These Mystics and Technocrats as they are called…”

“Have destroyed your planet and your people, pretty much, in another useless war to claim some small part of the Verse, while proclaiming freedom and peace for all. Yada yada. I say we just fucking kill them all. That’s what I say.”

Alroth sighed.

“It wouldn’t be a great battle brother! Just a few well-placed planetary destructions and BOOM! Gone! Revenge would be ours!” Argoth cursed and bit his tongue, wishing he could retract that last statement. He had no true need for vengeance; the people of this world were nothing more than playthings to him. His brother though, would see that as a reason not to take action. His brother was a pussy.

“We do not need vengeance brother… that shall be left to Fate. She shall decide. Until then… we must bury the dead.”

“Bury the dead? Fuck that, half of them aren’t even of our own fucking races. Look,-”

“You should have never gone to Earth…”

“-we have to do something. I mean look at all this shit. It’s fucking ridiculous. Can we at least blow the fuck out of THIS world? I mean come on..”

Alroth looked around once more, his cerulean eyes taking in the destruction and devastation that had been visited upon their small planet. His heart broke again.

“No… someday it will thrive once more. There is still a small population along the shores of the Korath. The last city untouched by the war.”

“For now..” Algoth muttered.

“But you are right. We must do something.”

The Dark God’s eyes brightened, visions of blowing shit up dancing like little pixies among his disturbed thoughts.

“We will create. Create something from this waste.”

Algoth blinked.

“Excuse me? What the fuck are you talking about?”

The Light God sighed, his pain showing in his lack of patience.

“We will create a Man.”

“In our own fucking image no doubt.”

“No.”

“Why not, Jesus. Come on, let’s take one of his goddamn ribs while we’re at it.”

“You don’t understand.”

“Then please Messiah, tell me.”

“We will create a Man of this war. And may he, Algoth, be the conduit of your Vengeance.”

Algoth’s eyes widened, a light springing into them at once.

“I… like that. Very well Jehovah, let’s do it. What do we need, pixie dust?”

Alroth narrowed his eyes and turned from his brother, his right hand lifting to his left ear where rested a golden loop. His fingers grasped the metal and tugged once, hard, his blood and flesh ripping away and spilling onto the precious metal. With a few murmured words, he dropped the ring into a dark pool of hardening blood.

At once, the earth began to shake, the blood squirming and rising from the ground in a single bubble shaped orb. A keening sounded across the field of battle as the souls of the dead were roused from their rest to witness the birth of a new Being. Bones rattled, skin stretched and broke apart as the Power from above crashed down onto and into the land, flooding it as an ocean released to visit its rage unto the world. The wind howled across the ravaged land, its once keening voice now piercing in sorrowful gasps as its life force was raped, stripped away in flaying tears and burning rips.

With a cry, Alroth leaned forward toward the bubbling mass and struck with all his might, his hand plunging into the churning mess, sinking to its heart and grasping, surging power flowing from his hand to the Creation. At the same instant another object fell into the liquid, a tattooed piece of flesh from the body of Argoth, his own blood mingling with his brother’s as his hand dived into the epicenter of the sphere to join his sibling’s.

Along the ground blood began to mingle and merge, the power in that blood returning to existence and flowing along in unnatural rivers of false life, all gathering in the center of the world wherein rested the Seed of creation. Magic and technology alike traversed the realms of reality to coalesce into one space of time, a single thread interweaving until it became one strand of reality, which was then laid thread upon thread into the growing orb.

Above the two a cyclone appeared, ripping away at the air, eating it as a hungry wolf would tear at a lamb. The course of fate clashed in upon itself, folding around the pair as they held on with all the power they could rightfully claim.

“I hope you know what you’ve done, brother!” Argoth screamed even as whips of energy lashed against his skin, the power brandished by Fate leaving bleeding and oozing gashes along the contours of his body. He could feel his power ebbing, fading away quickly into what would soon become nothing. Likewise, he could feel his twin’s power leaving, stripped away by both Fate, and their Creation.

“The skin, brother, what did you give it?!” Alroth demanded over the whining pitch of their realm crashing down around them. Argoth smiled.

“Nothing more than a gift, my brother! And yours? Your ring?!”

Alroth smiled as well.

“Nothing more than a gift, brother!”

The two grinned, their differences melting away for only a second, until once again the Hand of Fate cracked down upon their battered bodies.

“Maybe we shouldn’t have created life from death, you think?” Alroth screamed over the wind.

“Ah, Fuck Fate!”

And in that instant, silence. The Gods looked around, but knew it was over.

“She couldn’t halt it.”

“That mean’s it was truly destined. Or we’d be…”

Argoth looked down at his body, watching as a mist slowly crept up his legs.

“Oh fuck…”

Alroth smiled as the same power taking force began to swallow his form.

“Looks like it’s time for a nap, brother.”

“Oh fuck you, you fucking-” And he was gone, leaving his Brother of Light alone for a moment. In that moment the god looked down and watched as the mass of blood and gore slowly slipped away, leaving beneath it the form of a young boy. Alroth had a moment to take pride in his and his brother’s creation, but then noticed the tattoo decorating the right shoulder of the young child, falling to encompass his bicep and part of his forearm.

“No…”

And then, as his brother, he too was gone.


In the seconds after the God’s departure, the child took his first breath, a breath filled with mucus and blood that caused him to cough and spit up green and red, the liquid spilling onto the already soaked ground. His eyes opened to an unknown place, his ears awakening to unknown sounds, his lungs filling with air never before tasted. It smelled bad, and tasted worse.

The boy sat up, taking notice that his body rested in a substance unknown to his mind.

Blood.

“…blood…” the boy said, the first word echoing a thought in his mind. He knew this substance, knew from whence it came. It was once-life. Had he done this? He couldn’t remember. Surely he must have, for no one else stirred but he. But he couldn’t have, for he was not strong.

Power isn’t always in strength.

His small head nodded as he slowly and unsteadily gained his feet, his legs almost buckling at first. He began to walk, though towards what he was unsure of. A sea. That’s it. Water. Liquid. Not like this, but softer. Blue.



-Two years later-

The young man bowed his head in silent acceptance as another boy of the same stature laid a sign of challenge at his shoeless feet. Slowly he stood, every move an act in grace and rhythm. A puff of air blew against his fact suddenly, pushing from his eyes his black hair, causing it to part slightly, revealing his violet eyes to his opponent. He had learned that his eyes were unnerving among a people that boasted of nothing but blue-grey orbs.

Both men stepped into the center of the room, a round structure ringed on every side by elders and students. A stone pillar rose from the ground, stained with blood and memories, residues of magic and life. Men had been born in this ring, and men had died. For most, just standing where the two now stood took half a lifetime to achieve, but they both were exceptional.

Even if one was only two years old.

He had come among them as a child, and within the past two years had grown into early adulthood, and with his physical growth had come both mental and magical. Not only magical though, he seemed able to control all aspects of technology he’d come into contact with. A Technopath, the elders called it. But also the characteristics of the Elements. In him the last people of this world had seen a savior, a champion. Someone on whom they could build their future. A gift from the destruction.

And now he would be tested, and if passed, he would be sent away to live among the desolate lands for no less than five years, to gain the insight it would take to become an Elder. One versed in both power and peace.

So the men stood, roughly ten paces between them, both garbed in the dark brown robes of students. Stances were taken, but both knew this battle would end without the use of physical combat. The opponent nodded slightly, his bright blue eyes electric, his blonde-white hair pulled back in a slicked fashion. He was a dandy.

Kale smiled.

From the air a voice sounded.

“Kale Alaxandri, do you accept this challenge?”

The dark haired young man nodded curtly, his eyes never leaving the others.

“And you, Saehdr Baen, do you accept this challenge?”

The blonde head nodded his acceptance.

“Then it shall begin.”

The voice cut off, and as soon as it did, Baen launched himself into the air toward Kale, his body twisting fiercely, his left leg coming out as he closed in upon the still unmoving form of Kale. Instead of ducking or sidestepping the oncoming blow, he leapt into the air toward the oncoming form, his body weaving between the shape of a falling leg. His body came flush with his opponents, the man’s back to his chest, and with a deft movement snaked an arm around the other’s waist, pulling him from his descent as Kale’s body continued to climb, following through in his momentum. In the same instant as his grab around Baen’s waist his fist struck out, palm open, striking the man in the back along side his kidneys. A grunt of pain told of his strike, but he wouldn’t take the time to gloat. Instead, he released the young man and pushed away as they reached the apex of their ascent, his legs folding under his body and striking out at Baen’s back, propelling them both through the air in opposite directions.

Kale landed upon the stone platform, his body bending to take the impact, his face upturned toward the form of Baen as the man turned in mid air. Even at this distance, Kale could feel the hate radiating from those ice blue eyes. With a snarl, Baen clapped his hands together and muttered a few words, bringing forth stabbing tines of lightning, dancing down along the short distance to clash against stone, rolling about Kale’s body as the light burned into his retinas.

Fool. Kale muttered.

He focused his mind briefly and pulled the power from the striking electricity into his own body. From above it looked as though each stabbing piece of hatred was piercing his body, which caused Baen to howl in triumph as he neither saw nor felt retaliation from his foe. Again and again, the power was driven into the body of Kale, but that is where the attack stopped. Inside his body the power roiled and pulsed, purging the impurities from his marrow and singing along the cells of his skin. He took on the aspects of the element, both in characteristics and in strength, and struck.

Without warning, the lightning ceased except for one hot glowing strand, and it was coming the wrong way Baen noticed. He blinked slightly, then cursed and quickly recanted the spell for a shield, and just managed to get it up in time to stop the brunt of Kale’s body. He struck as a viper, energy-ridden form battering the shield until there was nothing left, and then striking Baen himself, the power transferring from his body to that of the blonde man’s, though instead of empowering the student, it simply seared his skin, leaving a dusky, flesh cooking smell behind.

Kale fell back to the stone, landing in a crouch, and waited without looking up as the body of Baen followed, though his opponent landed mostly in a heap of moaning flesh. Kale stood.

“Do you yield, Son of Thoran?”

Baen looked up and spit out a stream of dark blood.

“You wish.”

With a shout, he leapt to his feet, his hands forming silent symbols of an ancient magic. At once power flooded his body as he crashed toward Kale, evil emanating from his flesh as death from a burial mound. At once, he knew what the boy had done. He had used a pre-written summon spell, which in this case had been to summon some form of a demon. Though unfair, it was allowed in the rules.

Unfortunately, something deeper within Kale reacted before his mind could take over. Perhaps it was part of the Mystic within his blood, mingled with the Technocratic power. Or perhaps it was a piece of his parents inscribed into his soul, but whatever it was; he knew this demon must die. Not because of what it was, but because of what it once represented. The demon was an usurper, a stealer of thrones.

Without thought, Kale struck out at the oncoming form of his opponent. Around his right hand a light shone, and at once from his flesh sprang the Gauntlet, a work of technology he would never fully understand. Metallic plates sprang up along his hand and forearm, claws sprouted from his hand, talons tipped with the sharpest of points. In that hand he felt the power of a civilization manifested, and felt it unleash itself as that hand closed around the throat of Baen. In his left hand he felt the familiar ache of power, and realized his hand was drawn back, palm open and dark material swirling in its center. Elements of the air and earth merged into a solid mass of death as he struck forward, his hand connecting with the chest of his enemy. The forced sent the body surging backwards through the air, blood and skin following it in a perfect arch as the headless form sailed end over end until finally coming to rest upon the edge of the platform. Kale looked to his right hand, and strangely still saw the hateful, red eyes of Baen staring at him, a lifeless gaze beginning to settle over them. At once, the reality of the situation washed over him and he dropped the head, the bloody gauntlet unfolding and meshing back once more into his skin. He looked around in fear, but already, elder by elder had started to turn their back on him.

It was forbidden to kill here.

As the last elder slowly turned away Kale fell to his knees, his body bending double, forehead resting in a pool of warm liquid as agonizing pains shot through his chest.

He had killed a man, but strangely enough, that wasn’t the cause of his pain.

As he walked from the platform not a soul turned to say a word, for none was needed. He was now, in that one instant, an outcast. None would ask him why or what happened, none would listen to an explanation. To them he no longer existed, no matter what hope they’d once had for their future. It was over now.

His head hung low as he walked toward the edge of the village, not even bothering to collect his meager belongings, for they now belonged to this place as much as he did not. With his heart dying inside he walked, walked until the suns fell and rose again, never stopping, and never caring. He walked until his feet bled and body began to shut down.

Finally, he reached it. He knew this place, though never could he remember coming this far from home. It was an open field, the ruin of buildings and homes still evident in the decaying landscape. No living creatures stirred here in this place, and somehow he knew all that visited this place now, was death.

It was here he found it, lying among the ruins of an ancient temple, a small craft. Never had he seen anything like this piece of machinery, but even so automatically he knew he could pilot it, so with one last glance around, and a gaze toward his lost home, he did.

So begins...

Kale-'s Story

• Seen 42 Times • Page 1 of 3 • 1, 2, 3

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#2009-10-04 11:29:09, as written by Jace

Kale- stumbles back into the bar, turning in the doorway as he does to yell out, "Oh Yeah!?! WELL FUCK YOU!"

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#2009-10-04 17:08:14, as written by Jace

Kale- brushes through the door, the chains located randomly about his pants clinking softly, his long staff making a light tattoo against the wooden planks as he moves toward the bar, aiming, silently for once, for an empty stool.

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#2009-10-04 17:10:41, as written by Jace

Kale- reaches over and around the scarred wood, hands feeling into a cooler for whatever they had stored in the ice today, bringing forth a no-labeled brew. The cap popped off and landed against the bar, as he brought the open mouth to his lips, letting the amber liquid spill down his throat. "Mmmmmmmm..."

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#2009-10-04 17:12:02, as written by Jace

Kale- pulls out a small HoloGem and begins watching the end of a 'football' game, now happening on a place called 'earth'.

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#2009-10-05 01:48:09, as written by Jace

Kale- Slips into the bar, noting that BBClock always looks like 'Cock' to him.

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#2009-10-05 01:48:58, as written by Jace

Kale- blinks

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#2009-10-05 01:49:07, as written by Jace

Kale- says,

 “ You have holy assholes? ”

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#2009-10-05 01:49:11, as written by Jace

Kale- says,

 “ Do you shit holy water? ”

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#2009-10-05 01:51:09, as written by Jace

Kale- walks past HellShine on his way to the bar... "I think I have some Midal somewhere..."

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#2009-10-05 01:52:06, as written by Jace

Kale- says,

 “ "Guess the Red Army is on the march," he remarks, taking a seat at the bar. ”

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The setting changes from Gambit's Bar to Master's Dojo

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#2009-10-06 02:21:28, as written by Jace

Kale- says,

 “ lemme pull it up ”

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Master's Dojo

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#2009-10-06 02:21:54, as written by Jace

Kale- says,

 “ [color=orange]Kale frowned. After all that work, the man could have at least left a few pieces of gray matter on his staff, which would have been the gentlemanly thing to do. “Oy, hey yo-” Before his feet could even graze the sand he saw the man once again transform his body, this time into what appeared to be a quite long lance. The sun glinted off its tip, promising Kale that it wouldn’t hurt, much, in the end. The air in front of his body hardened and began to push him backwards, so that when his feet touched the ground he was already tucking his legs and falling towards the sand. He pushed his feet up as his ass touched dirt, hands pressing into the substance. The bottom of his boots touched against the underside of the lance as it passed over him, his arms pushing his form up into a handstand, the lance balanced on the soles of thick rubber. Without much thought his body twisted as his arms bunched and uncoiled, sending him into the air, the lance above him. He landed to the right of where he had been, then danced backw ”

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Master's Dojo

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#2009-10-06 02:22:47, as written by Jace

Kale- says,

 “ *backwards ”

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#2009-10-06 02:24:00, as written by Jace

Kale- says,

 “ yep yep ”

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#2009-10-06 02:24:26, as written by Jace

Kale- says,

 “ He basically pushed the lance up and away, and landed. ”

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#2009-10-06 02:24:51, as written by Jace

Kale- nod

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#2009-10-06 02:38:18, as written by Jace

Kale- says,

 “ Kale was just regaining his balance as the man charged, thinking of several variations to use, as they were in the desert, but this time he miscalculated his opponents speed. He wouldn’t be able to dash out of he way, and his staff lay several feet away, so he did the next best thing. As the arm-lance rushed forward he twisted to the man’s right, the spike grazing across his side, tearing the cloth of his shirt and scoring along his rib cage, but in that same instant the sand that clung to the hairs of his right arm changed. Into his arm they fell, and from that created well of earth sprung for a brown Gauntlet. As his body twisted, he continued the motion, letting out a cry of pain, knowing his opponent would have no clue what was coming. He finished his turn, his opponent rushing past him with his momentum, and lashed out with a dark tan fist of talons, the sandy substance aimed for the back of his enemy’s neck.
”

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#2009-10-06 02:54:28, as written by Jace

Kale- says,

 “ Kale grunted and ripped the Gauntlet away, snapping the spike off at its joint, which promptly called in a supply of sand to rebuild the broken appendage. He jumped back a few steps, right arm pulling back, then striking forward toward the back of Paul’s head, talons extended. If the hit landed, the hand would close around his skull and push his body forward by several yards, still connected to Kale’s extended Gauntlet of sand, where his opponent would be given the choice to either admit defeat, or possibly be on the receiving end of a crushed skull. ”

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#2009-10-06 02:59:28, as written by Jace

Kale- says,

 “ (Aight) ”

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The setting changes from Master's Dojo to Twisted Path

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#2009-10-07 11:57:05, as written by Jace

Kale- blinks and looks around. "What's all this 'new ownership' nonsense?

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