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Rod'ir'ait

ROD'IR'AIT LIKE SWEET POTATOES

0 · 197 views · located in Wing City Lake: Beach

a character in “The Multiverse”, as played by Samusai

Description

He wears faded overalls at all times, torn and ragged at the ankle, and always one of an assortment of thick black shirts from various materials. Although he stands just under 6 feet, one would not call him small. He is strong and fat like Bear! His trademark scar, a telltale sign of a violent past, stretches from the left corner of his mouth to the bottom of his right eye.

Personality

Though his speech may seem erratic at best, between bouts of short words in third person, he is known at times for his moments of clarity and deep insight, leading many to believe he is possessed, mentally ill, or perhaps a victim of brain injury. Despite his distasteful yet simple appearance, he is a kind soul seeking justice and friendship. He has been known to sacrifice his health and belongings to reach these goals.

Equipment

ROD'IR'AIT NEED NO TOOLS ONLY FISTS

History

Rod'ir'ait is a vagabond of sorts. Nothing is known where he is from, and he claims to have been wandering since the dawn of time. Although, this may be because he himself has forgotten. Perhaps amnesia? Brain injury, anyone?

So begins...

Rod'ir'ait's Story

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#, as written by Samusai
ECHOOOO

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#, as written by Samusai
Rod'ir'ait

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#, as written by Samusai
Rod'ir'ait rummages through the cabinets in search of vegetables.

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#, as written by Samusai
Uh... I don't know what I'm doing.

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#, as written by Samusai
Rod'ir'ait stood in the doorway of Gambit's Bar, scratching the back of his left hand against his stubble with a loud scraping sound. In his right hand, an unopened bottle of ketchup. Drawn to the voices and strange smells, he wandered through the dark barefoot, and at last took and uneasy step inside. Sitting down in the nearest chair, he gave his bottle of ketchup a smug grin. "I told you."

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#, as written by Samusai
Rod'ir'ait jumped to his feet, pushing over the chair he sat in and scooting the table forward with a rumble. "Does anyone know where Rod'ir'ait can find the potatoes? I am in need of the potatoes." He glanced from face to face, looking for an answer, or any sort of reaction. Perhaps they knew of the potatoes, he thought, but they were the guardians of the farm. No one would stop him in his spiritual quest.

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Rod'ir'ait sat back down on his chair, still turned over, and rested his arm on the table with the ketchup. "Rod'ir'ait seeks the potatoes. What if he were to seek a man? What is one man from another? One sinner against another, wanderers of a moral wasteland, they are given names. Their difference is their fate, their actions in life, the change they contribute. That is the difference between man, and so it is with potatoes. THE potatoes have a role to play that Rod'ir'ait has yet to know. But a roll to play nonetheless, and Rod'ir'ait is the harbinger." Once again, he scratches the back of his hand with his stubble.

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#, as written by Samusai
Rod'ir'ait stopped scratching his hand, and instead began stroking his chin. "Dunno. Oh! The Red will tell Rod'ir'ait. Yes, that is how he came here. The Red said people are here, and people know potatoes." With a pleased look, he crossed his arms and nodded. Then quickly reached back to the bottle.

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#, as written by Samusai
Rod'ir'ait put the bottle of ketchup into the front pocket of his overalls. He slowly ran his fingers through his hair, as was his habit while in deep thought. At last, he stood and turned toward the woman at the bar. "The role of potatoes and red seems convoluted at best even to the wisest man. Please allow Rod'ir'ait to explain a specific circumstance. There was a time when Rod'ir'ait almost lost his face and his life. Though unmatched in hand to hand combat, his opponent was armed and very skilled. Rod'ir'ait prevailed, but the blade cut his face deep. The man had skipped breakfast. If instead he ate potatoes and red, Rod'ir'ait would not be here. That is the importance of the seemingly insignificant." He sat back down, gently touching his scar and staring at seemingly nothing.

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#, as written by Samusai
Rod'ir'ait smiled back at Esme as she left.

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Rod'ir'ait threw his head back in laughter. Turning once again to the woman at the bar. "One may wonder what it would be like if we lived beneath the sea, or if the moon fell to the ground, but these are impossible. There is no logic in paradox. I survived the fight by the width of a hair. Such a slim margin of chance can easily be attributed to breakfast. I told him to eat. Rod'ir'ait made him soup. Why did he not eat the soup? What did I do wrong?" Once again, his attention wandered, gently feeling the scar on his face.

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"The Red!" Rod'ir'ait shouted, jumping back to his feet. Tearing off the long sleeves of his shirt, he ran over and pushed them to the open wounds of the police officer, trying to stop the bleeding. "The Red! He knows of the potatoes!"

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Rod'ir'ait leaned back and smiled. "That is fine. This must be part of the journey to potatoes. Rod'ir'ait must remain vigilant."

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Rod'ir'ait jumped to his feet, once again pushing the table back further. With a grunt, he slammed his fist into the table he was sitting at, splitting the top in half and splintering a table leg with a crack. Bending down, he checked beneath the table parts. With a sigh, began trying to prop the broken table back together using chairs.

The setting changes from Gambit's Bar to Wing City Lake: Beach

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#, as written by Samusai
Huh..