Drenzin Kronek's Story

The front door to Gambit’s opened slowly, and a shadow appeared, cutting out the crack of light in which illuminated the doorway from outside. A tall person walked through the door, having to bend down in order not to knock their head on the doorframe as they entered. Just as they took their first step in the bar, the air would shift slightly, replaced with the feeling of the unknown. The things unsaid, the questions unanswered and the secrets neglected, left to rot in a dark corner.
But as the tall person finally got through the door they straightened. Standing seven feet tall, clad in Khaki coloured robes with a hood that concealed their face, one would be tempted to think of the secrets that they themselves kept, creeping into their minds from their dark corners with great vividity.
They had their arms clasped together, and concealed in the long sleeves of their robes as they slowly made their way to the counter. Whenever they got close enough to someone, they would be able to feel the coldness that emanated from this person, the evil that seemed to seep through their robes and throb around them in an invisible aura of darkness.

They weren’t here to bring upon violence, or evil on the bar, for that matter. They had changed their ways, and although they might not be considered ‘good’ there had been a significant improvement in their behaviour and actions ever since they had been sent back to walk on the face of the Earth. Maybe it was guilt, maybe they had felt they needed to change their ways due to the evil, unforgivable things they had done in the past. But maybe it was something entirely different.
The person sat on a bar stool silently, the hood that they wore casting shadows upon their face, a sliver of white would be able to seen here and there, but not enough to make a decent observation of what they held beneath the cowl of their hood. Instead of observing the person simply sensed what was in and around the bar. In their head was an accurate picture of what someone would see, and if people had the chance to ‘see’ the way they did, they would easily say what they saw in their mind was much more accurate than what the normal human eye would be able to portray.

The scythe strapped to their back was 182cm in length, supported by only a piece of taught cloth that wrapped around their right shoulder and across their lower left torso, stuck out diagonally form their upper right, the blade curling over their right shoulder. The handle of the scythe would stick out out around their lower left side. Just as they felt eyes on them, their head turned sharply in the direction of Willow, a movement so sudden that you would think he would have eyes on his head to be able to see the woman examining them. All they had to do was 'sense' and they got an accurate picture of whom they were 'looking' at; A human female, in their early twenties...
They made mental notes of the person, before turning their head away, sensing out the other patrons in the bar. The invisible aura of darkness seemed to spread out from them, anyone with keen senses would be able to feel it. An aura that seemed to pull you in, to draw your attention and turn heads. But the person stayed silent, pivoting their head ever now and there at the slightest sound.

Their body was unnaturally still as they pivoted their head at the slightest sound, sensing their surroundings. They could see what people looked like, where they were seated, they could even calculate how far away the patrons were from him. But all of this didn't matter right now, they were in no danger, there was no immediate threat, so he felt he could drop his guard for a few moments.
Their hands broke their hold in the long sleeves, and went to their hood. If one was watching they would be able to see the bandages that criss-crossed around their forearms, and a few thin strips of material that covered both of their knuckles. They pulled their hood down slowly, revealing what was underneath. Bandages were wrapped around their head, concealing the grotesque face that was held underneath. The person rolled their shoulders, as they got used to the bar air, contemplating taking their robes off but deciding against it.
Their attention was turned to Jonathan Bracker, with the powers he possessed, one would be able to feel the dark, aura that emanated from the robed person. The person's head pivoted in the man's direction, as he sensed him, getting an overview of Jonathan's skills, he made mental notes as he sensed the child. They didn't bother making notes about them, nor did they bother to observe them for more than a few moments.
All they did was come here to observe... and that is indeed what they did.

As the small girl walked to her seat, their 'gaze' followed Ariel. As they moved their head in the direction of where she was sitting, one would be able to see how unnaturally still the rest of their body was. But since the person had been in the bar, they had made not even a sound. They turned their attention away from the girl, and looked over to Jonathan Bracker. Although their head wasn't facing them, someone of that power and skill would be able to sense the man's eyes on them... probably, anyway.
They were bored, that was not a common thing for them to be. Murderous, revengeful, spiteful, maybe... but that was not them anymore. They had been forced by a higher being, they had been forced to change their ways. Although being good may of had it's advantages, they wouldn't lie when they said they missed their old ways. The person tilted their head as the nostalgia washed over them.
The person shook their head slowly, forcing them to focus on what was happening here and now, not the memories of the old days, no matter how tempting they were to remember, to relive. They forced their attention back on Jonathan Bracker, they had previously done a calculation of their abilities, how it would affect him if they ever were to be in combat. They usually had the upper hand in nearly all conflicts, but that was over thousands of years ago... and this is Gambit's. The person kept a close 'eye' to the man.

The person turned their full attention to Jonathan Bracker, they considered the man rude, and they really didn't like rude people... to step into someones mind and sense out their names was a power that should be used in the right circumstances. Sadly, the person thought that it wasn't even close to the right circumstance. The man would just get himself in trouble...
The person tilted their head in the direction of Steven Orenski, sensing out and trying to get a good weigh of their abilities. In a way, they thought that what they were doing was similar to what Jonathan was doing, they shrugged to themselves. At least they were not spilling out their names and getting themselves threatened.....
But only a crazy man would threaten Drenzin Kronek.

they moved their head to get a good 'look' at Brain James. They sensed out, scanning their abilities and weighing them against his. The more people that came in, the longer it delayed their departure. The person was silent, not even the person with the keenest of senses would be able to hear his breath. Once he had made a few mental notes, the person drew their attention on the vampire... another rude person, in a day that was becoming chock full of them. If you could see his face from behind all his bandages, he would be smirking. There would be a slight shift in the air, and the bar would feel a bit colder for a few moments, then it would return to normal, as if nothing had happened.
The scythe strapped to their back glimmered in the light of the bar, casting wayward shafts of light here and there.

They stood up silently, pulling their hood up over their bandaged face. Concealing what was once white in darkness under the cowl of their hood. Their feet moved apart slightly, the person grabbed behind their back, making sure that their weapon was still safely stowed behind them. Satisfied, the person straightened, standing a monstrous seven feet tall, even their scythe was longer than some of the patrons. They made their way to the door, as they passed people, they would be able to feel a coldness in the air. Their aura was so strong that it even affected the air around him, an aura of darkness and evil, in which the person was trying to rid of, even if they loved it so.
The cloaked person had to bend their frame to fit under the doorway, but they did it unnatural grace. Their shadow disappeared from the shaft of light coming in from the door... and they were gone.

The front door to Gambit’s opened slowly, and a shadow appeared, cutting out the crack of light in which illuminated the doorway from outside. A tall person walked through the door, having to bend down in order not to knock their head on the doorframe as they entered. Just as they took their first step in the bar, the air would shift slightly, replaced with the feeling of the unknown. The things unsaid, the questions unanswered and the secrets neglected, left to rot in a dark corner.
But as the tall person finally got through the door they straightened. Standing seven feet tall, clad in Khaki coloured robes with a hood that concealed their face. They had their arms clasped together, and concealed in the long sleeves of their robes as they slowly made their way to the counter. Whenever they got close enough to someone, they would be able to feel the coldness that emanated from this person, the evil that seemed to seep through their robes and throb around them in an invisible aura of darkness. A scythe was strapped upon their back, held to their person by a piece of taut cloth. The scythe was easily as tall as the average man, about 182cm in length.
The hooded person walked to the counter with silent footfalls, and sat on a barstool. The person’s head would pivot this way and that. Instead of observing, the person simply sensed what was in and around the bar. In their head was an accurate picture of what someone would see, and if people had the chance to ‘see’ the way they did, they would easily say what they saw in their mind was much more accurate than what the normal human eye would be able to portray.
The person had been here earlier, and they had come back to recollect more information, and the travel was not wasted. More people were here, different people. The person sensed each and every one of the new arrivals, making mental notes.

They moved their head with such a fast speed that it seemed almost impossible. The person stayed in silence for the longest moment as they examined Jonathan. They knew that the man had a power like that, he had sensed it earlier. He had used it on multiple people and the cloaked man thought that was not right, someone should have more respect for people and their privacy. Who knows, maybe the person they are likely to piss off is more powerful than they could even begin to imagine. In one swift movement, they took out their Scythe. Twisting their wrist and moving their fingers, the Scythe twisted and turned in an act of pure skill. He wasn't exactly trying to show off, it was a habit he had picked up, made everything look flashier than it really was.
The person kept their focus on Jonathan, in one fast movement the bottom of the Scythe hit the ground with a loud crack. They thought that they might of cracked the floorboards, but feeling the vibrations from their hand they knew that they had only made a big sound. The person held their scythe to their side by their right hand, still sitting on the stool, the menacing blade surpassed the height of the person when they were sitting down.

They lowered their head slightly, as if they were mulling over what Jonathan has said. They didn't care if their power was out, nor did they acknowledge his apology. The person waved a hand in the air, trying to sense the air more clearly, giving him an insight on what might of happened previously when he was absent.
They stood, standing at least a foot taller than their Scythe, in which they still held in their right hand.
The person extended his spare hand to Jonathan, moving his pointer finger in a gesture that said 'come here' not that he would. But they thought it was worth a try. They soon moved that same hand to their head, pulling down their hood and revealing their bandaged head, covering his grotesque face. If one was looking close enough they would be able to see the light etching of hieroglyphs just below his collarbone, most of them concealed by the robes he wore. Their short-cropped and unkempt hair stuck out from the only place the bandages didn't run over his head; his scalp. They waited for Jonathan's reply.

They easily towered over Jonathan, and they still held their scythe by their side. Their head tilted, as they were surprised that Jonathan actually approached them. The person's shoulders raised and lowered as if they were breathing, and they were, it was just you could not hear it. As Jonathan would get closer he would be able to feel their evil, their dark aura with great vividity. Yes, they were trying to rid themselves of their aura, but that is pretty hard, even for the most skilled of people.

You speak my name, yet you do not know what legacy it carries, is that right?

They asked, their voice rough and tight, as if they have not spoken in centuries... and in one way, that was true. The person nearly sagged as they realized they have wasted their voice on someone so... insolent. The person pivoted their head to the side slightly, and someone watching would be able to see that the rest of their body was unnaturally still. There was a silence as they waited for reply.

They looked up slightly, as if he was admiring a rafter in the far corner of the bar. They gave an airy laugh, which was raspy and unnaturally high pitched. They flicked their right arm and placed the scythe behind their back in one skilled movement. The person returned both of their hands into the folds of their robes.

You say my name when you are not deserving, then you ask me what I am?

They tilted their head, realizing their mistake, then admitting it with a curt nod.

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Well, I guess I set myself up for that, didn't I?

They said, asking themselves aloud. They tilted their head down, and sensed Jonathan more clearly, feeling him shudder, if they weren't wearing their bandages, you would be able to see the person smile.

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The reason I called you over her was to tell you that you are not deserving to speak my name, when you don't even know the story behind it... Yes, legacy.

they let out an exhalation which sounded much like a sigh,

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I would like to say I am in the middle... but many people would concur.

they stated simply. At that moment is was as if the air in the bar shifted and started to grow colder a few degrees.

They unclasped their hands from each other, and he left them hanging by their sides.

"I say you are not deserving to hear it."

they shook their head almost sadly, as if remembering a personal memory. Their body was unnaturally still as they righted themselves.

"It is my life, what is mine can stay mine until I say otherwise. I am sure someone like you could agree on the matter, or maybe not, since you like to take what is theirs and let it out for the whole world to know."

The person exaggerated, pivoting their head at all of the sounds, voices and movements in the bar.

"What advantage would if give you if you could speak the name?"

The person asked, suddenly curious.

They tilted their head as they heard Jonathan say 'I presume' but they said nothing. The person was human... they were just better.

"You say you want to say my name out of respect, yet, you just blurted it out as if it meant nothing a few moments ago."

they stated, voice finally starting to even out after years of neglect. It was odd hearing their own voice, they had not heard it in so long.

"So, may I ask why you want to treat me with respect now?"

They asked, and sensed around the bar. The person hoped that all people weren't like this these days, many tings had changes over the years in which he was imprisoned, but he still demanded respect from those whom he deemed lesser than himself.

"It would be appreciated."

was all they said. Mummifying the end of the sentence in a long winding of silence.

They tilted their head at this, not a reply that he was expecting, but a reply nonetheless.

"So that little outburst back there,"

they said, pointing a finger to where he was previously sitting,

"...was just something to cover up your 'supposed' fear? You covered up your fear about boasting how you nearly died?"

They inquired.

They had a feeling that this was all a ruse, like Jonathan was feigning fear to stop the person from attacking them. They couldn't be sure, their senses weren't the sharpest since they had been let out of the underworld, they still needed more time to develop. So that is where he left the matter.
The person tilted their head,

"So you are a man of honor... I see."

they said, slowly. Moving their head as if they were looking around the bar for a brief moment, before returning their 'gaze' to Jonathan.

"I hope we can stay friends."

they said a bit sarcastically, although they actually meant it... by 'friends' he meant people whom wont go around trying to kill each other all the time.
The person extended a hand and pushed Jonathan in the sternum slightly, if he was unawares of this happening, it would easily topple him, but if he was aware, he would be able to adjust with ease.
They retracted their arm into the folds of their robe.

"I do not want you doing anything like that again. I take it as the height of rudeness. I do not suffer fools gladly."

They said, with a curt nod. Before straightening up slightly and walking towards the door, as they bent down to avoid knocking their head on the doorframe, the temperature of the bar would raise slightly, back to normal. Their shadow left, and revealed the shaft of light in which illuminated the doorway, then they were gone.

The front door to Gambit’s opened slowly, and a shadow appeared, cutting out the crack of light in which illuminated the doorway from outside. A tall person walked through the door, having to bend down in order not to knock their head on the doorframe as they entered. Just as they took their first step in the bar, the air would shift slightly, replaced with the feeling of the unknown. The things unsaid, the questions unanswered and the secrets neglected, left to rot in a dark corner.
But as the tall person finally got through the door they straightened. Standing seven feet tall, clad in Khaki coloured robes with a hood that concealed their face. They had their arms clasped together, and concealed in the long sleeves of their robes as they slowly made their way to the counter. Whenever they got close enough to someone, they would be able to feel the coldness that emanated from this person, the evil that seemed to seep through their robes and throb around them in an invisible aura of darkness. A scythe was strapped upon their back, held to their person by a piece of taut cloth. The scythe was easily as tall as the average man, about 182cm in length.
The hooded person walked to the counter with silent footfalls, and sat on a barstool. The person’s head would pivot this way and that. Instead of observing, the person simply sensed what was in and around the bar. In their head was an accurate picture of what someone would see, and if people had the chance to ‘see’ the way they did, they would easily say what they saw in their mind was much more accurate than what the normal human eye would be able to portray.
They looked as if they didn't notice all the commotion, but they did. If they had a face to call their own, they would be smiling.