Current
I feel naked, with all of these people viewing my profile.
Bio
If it's fantasy, intricate, and has a relation to tearing things apart, or strategizing of how to tear things apart, then I would gladly join whatever sadistic aspiration you have in mind.
"Wouldn't it be cool if we could CURVE an arrow?!"
Name: Adrion Lingway Age: 17 Race: Human
Appearance: 5'5", Adrion is relatively short with a small build weighing no more than a 150 lbs. What he misses in size though, more than makes it up with a fierce glare from his eyes. Though small, he is rather well built from years of haunting in the wilds. The wilds though are not kind, riddling Adrion's young body with a few considerable scars. Most noticeable is small dash across his left eyebrow from a claw a few inches too close to his eyes, as well as half a pinkie's slash above his right eyebrows. His eyes are of a light brown, with dark hair usually grown to his shoulders, though for the first time in forever he had cut it upon joining the World Council.
Nation of origin:The Oakheart Sovereignty
Personality: Adrion is a trickster at heart, a fool who loves to laugh loudly, albeit a bittoo loudly, and make companions as much as he adores hunting a beast for days on end, his life hanging on a thread as thin as his bow's. Oddly enough, though Adrion enjoys a habit of breaking norms, he is a disciplined hunter and a hard worker, most likely because of his Master, Tawarthion Lingway. Spending most of his time in the forests, Adrion has grown a found love for animals.
Biography: Adrion was an orphan, his parents forsaking him in front of a monastery for reasons unknown to him when he was three years young. The people of Oakheart detest such irresponsible acts, yet they could not simply turn the little child away. Reluctantly, they named the boy and began to teach him there ways.
It did not work. Adrion grew into a stubborn and violent kid, which was odd considering his peaceful environment. At the little age of 10 he showed defiance and hostility to quite nearly everything, most of the time without reason or due cause. The monks had grown entirely frustrated with the boy, yet they knew not what to do with his kin. They are no mothers after all. Adrion made trouble, skipped out on his duties as a brother, and most often than not made attempts at mockery; something the order highly disproved of. Their efforts at educating Adrion were all in vain, their teachings of peace and calm not finding residue in the little boy. The boy spent most of his time in the forest, alone and without companionship. The monks feared for him, and called to the assistance of Tawarthion Lingway, one of the Elvish Masters whom are regular visitors of the monastery, proposed to utilize this boy's ardent energy. "Give him something he could play with." Tawarthion told the monks, in which he was only returned with a perplexed look. Tawarthion, sighing, took the matter upon himself and taught the boy how to hold the bow with the correct form, of which Adrion promptly disregarded with the utmost annoyance. The firsts arrows flew horribly off the mark, even when Tawarthion customized the bow for Adrion's small body. Disappointed with the poor results, Tawarthion left the undisciplined kid to his own devices. He succeeded in making the kid busy, but as a Master Of The Bow, he was extremely unsatisfied with the sub-par results. You either have it or you don't.
Thus Tawarthion's surprise was in the following year, when he would return and see the radical transformation. It wasn't in his aim, as Adrion was far from a natural. It was the change of character. The hostility of Ardiot's hazel eyes had regarded Tawarthion with vanished, replaced by an unquenchable curiosity. A stark hunger was evident in Ardiot.
In the year that Tawarthion had gone, the boy had fallen in love with the bow, playing with its strings until his soft fingers bled. His usual pranks in the monastery gave away, his blatant disregard of the order dwindled as he became increasingly enthralled with the bow, as well as history of wars and their tactics, something the peace loving monks also disproved of, yet they could not bring their hearts to forbid it from Adrion. The boy truthfully seemed alive, smiling and laughing and always seeking the assistance and guidance of his brothers, which was in turn repaid it with gratitude and a completion of his duties.
In and out, every few long months Tawarthion would visit the monastery, guiding Ardiot's path in marksmanship, hunting, knowledge, tactics, and medicine. When Adrion reached the age of thirteen, Tawarthion decided on his second apprentice.
Seven years later, after many adventures and nights in the wilds, Tawarthion truly grew attached to the boy, as did the boy, taking Tawarthion's last name to his. Yet Tawarthion could not simply drag him for the rest of his life. He must let the boy live experience life on his own. Reluctantly, and after imparting most of his knowledge onto the boy, he had sent Adrion to the World Council with a recommendation.
Skills:
Deft: A hunter requires judgment, speed, precision, and a great deal of luck. Adrion’s senses are enhanced greatly, through his young body is yet to match them.
Bow Expertise: A ruthless Master Hunter, the love of the bow, and an endless energy--the perfect concoction to Mastery
Forest Affinity: Adrion has the knowledge, had haunted the beasts and made his nest in the tallest of trees. No home is a greater to him than the dirt and mighty beasts of a great forest.
Beast Lover: Spending most of his life in the forests had forbid him the chance at true companionship, the beasts of the forest being one of his only allies. Adrion handles most sane beasts exponentially well, avoiding confrontation and sometimes befriending them. This skill of course, does not work well when the beast is hungry.
Immune System: Growing in the forest has its advantages. Adrion’s body is well guarded against sickness and poison.
Weaknesses:
Primitive: Though Adrion loves exploring a variety of interests, machines are not one of them. A disdain towards the damage it had towards the forest renders Adrion extremely distasteful of using such vile machines. Tawarthion attempts at teaching the boy the rifle was met with stark rejection, one of the only few instances of Adrion blatantly refusing his Master.
Viscous and Tempered, Yet Muscle Lacking: Just like the general population of The Iron Dominion, Adrion is quick to get into a brawl that he can not win.
Merciless: Adrion quick temper, combined with an instinctual and zoned mind is bound to get one (or many) of his arrows stuck in the neck of malicious entities, most particularly when the situation does not necessarily call for it.
Equipment:
Mighty bows exist for Masters, not Apprentices.
Arrows and Daggers: One needs little else to make a living
How come? Is it because of the bow/hunter emphasis or his character itself?
I'm not new to RP or writing, but this is my first group RP, as well as first bio creation of characters. Feel free to go on a lecture if you would like.
@Bazmund "[The Red League] Formed primarily of rebel serfs from the Oakheart Sovereignty, but also a significant portion of the Iron Dominion's leftist workforce, they exist in the south of the Eversky."
For The Iron Dominion to have a substantial leftist workforce, some conditions must be poor, otherwise there would be no reason to rebel or migrate to a different nation. What do the leftist of the TID (The Iron Dominion) want in particular? Same as the leftist of medieval time? Just how liberal are they?
Also, what about religion, excluding the mad Heaven-Eyes?
@Bazmund Ah! the "Post-Apocalyptic," and "survival of the fittest tricked me!
I see though. The Iron Dominion is just a version of a capitalist country, with no organized crime allowed. Though I beg to differ on one part: Money talks bigger than any other law. One should be able to get away with most things with it, save for all the violence and blatant disregard of the law, shouldn't someone be able to con people, especially the less fortunate, as it happens today? Of course, being subtle is a huge part of it.
Also...yeah. I went a bit overboard. My intention was to forbid him from using guns, though I obviously forgot about it the moment I started making the guy. Here is another one though:
Adrion Lingway
"Wouldn't it be cool if we could CURVE an arrow?!"
Name: Adrion Lingway Age: 17 Race: Human
Appearance: 5'5", Adrion is relatively short with a small build weighing no more than a 150 lbs. What he misses in size though, more than makes it up with a fierce glare from his eyes. Though small, he is rather well built from years of haunting in the wilds. The wilds though are not kind, riddling Adrion's young body with a few considerable scars. Most noticeable is small dash across his left eyebrow from a claw a few inches too close to his eyes, as well as half a pinkie's slash above his right eyebrows. His eyes are of a light brown, with dark hair usually grown to his shoulders, though for the first time in forever he had cut it upon joining the World Council.
Nation of origin:The Oakheart Sovereignty
Personality: Adrion is a trickster at heart, a fool who loves to laugh loudly, albeit a bittoo loudly, and make companions as much as he adores hunting a beast for days on end, his life hanging on a thread as thin as his bow's. Oddly enough, though Adrion enjoys a habit of breaking norms, he is a disciplined hunter and a hard worker, most likely because of his Master, Tawarthion Lingway. Spending most of his time in the forests, Adrion has grown a found love for animals.
Biography: Adrion was an orphan, his parents forsaking him in front of a monastery for reasons unknown to him when he was three years young. The people of Oakheart detest such irresponsible acts, yet they could not simply turn the little child away. Reluctantly, they named the boy and began to teach him there ways.
It did not work. Adrion grew into a stubborn and violent kid, which was odd considering his peaceful environment. At the little age of 10 he showed defiance and hostility to quite nearly everything, most of the time without reason or due cause. The monks had grown entirely frustrated with the boy, yet they knew not what to do with his kin. They are no mothers after all. Adrion made trouble, skipped out on his duties as a brother, and most often than not made attempts at mockery; something the order highly disproved of. Their efforts at educating Adrion were all in vain, their teachings of peace and calm not finding residue in the little boy. The boy spent most of his time in the forest, alone and without companionship. The monks feared for him, and called to the assistance of Tawarthion Lingway, one of the Elvish Masters whom are regular visitors of the monastery, proposed to utilize this boy's ardent energy. "Give him something he could play with." Tawarthion told the monks, in which he was only returned with a perplexed look. Tawarthion, sighing, took the matter upon himself and taught the boy how to hold the bow with the correct form, of which Adrion promptly disregarded with the utmost annoyance. The firsts arrows flew horribly off the mark, even when Tawarthion customized the bow for Adrion's small body. Disappointed with the poor results, Tawarthion left the undisciplined kid to his own devices. He succeeded in making the kid busy, but as a Master Of The Bow, he was extremely unsatisfied with the sub-par results. You either have it or you don't.
Thus Tawarthion's surprise was in the following year, when he would return and see the radical transformation. It wasn't in his aim, as Adrion was far from a natural. It was the change of character. The hostility of Ardiot's hazel eyes had regarded Tawarthion with vanished, replaced by an unquenchable curiosity. A stark hunger was evident in Ardiot.
In the year that Tawarthion had gone, the boy had fallen in love with the bow, playing with its strings until his soft fingers bled. His usual pranks in the monastery gave away, his blatant disregard of the order dwindled as he became increasingly enthralled with the bow, as well as history of wars and their tactics, something the peace loving monks also disproved of, yet they could not bring their hearts to forbid it from Adrion. The boy truthfully seemed alive, smiling and laughing and always seeking the assistance and guidance of his brothers, which was in turn repaid it with gratitude and a completion of his duties.
In and out, every few long months Tawarthion would visit the monastery, guiding Ardiot's path in marksmanship, hunting, knowledge, tactics, and medicine. When Adrion reached the age of thirteen, Tawarthion decided on his second apprentice.
Seven years later, after many adventures and nights in the wilds, Tawarthion truly grew attached to the boy, as did the boy, taking Tawarthion's last name to his. Yet Tawarthion could not simply drag him for the rest of his life. He must let the boy live experience life on his own. Reluctantly, and after imparting most of his knowledge onto the boy, he had sent Adrion to the World Council with a recommendation.
Skills:
Apprentice Of Life: An apprentice for most of his life, Adrion learned how to learn. As long as Adrion enjoys the occupation, Adrion will attempt to learn it. He strives for knowledge, though his ineptitude at most tasks limit his mastery greatly.
Bow Expertise: A ruthless Master Hunter, the love of the bow, and an endless energy--the perfect concoction to Mastery
Forest Affinity: Adrion has the knowledge, had haunted the beasts and made his nest in the tallest of trees. No home is a greater to him than the dirt and mighty beasts of a great forest.
Beast Lover: Spending most of his life in the forests had forbid him the chance at true companionship, the beasts of the forest being one of his only allies. Adrion handles most sane beasts exponentially well, avoiding confrontation and sometimes befriending them. This skill of course, does not work well when the beast is hungry.
Immune System: Growing in the forest has its advantages. Adrion’s body is well guarded against sickness and poison.
Weaknesses:
Primitive: Though Adrion loves exploring a variety of interests, machines are not one of them. A disdain towards the damage it had towards the forest renders Adrion extremely distasteful of using such vile machines. Tawarthion attempts at teaching the boy the rifle was met with stark rejection, one of the only few instances of Adrion blatantly refusing his Master.
A Hunter, Not A Soldier: Adrion’s stubborn personality renders his regard to orders and laws nil. While he might not blatantly break them, he is more proposed to avoid adhering to them.
Viscous and Tempered, Yet Muscle Lacking: Just like the general population of The Iron Dominion, Adrion is quick to get into a brawl that he can not win.
Equipment:
Mighty and fancy bows exist for Masters, not Apprentices.
Arrows and Daggers: One needs little else to make a living
Sorry if it's a bit long. I...I tried to show restraint...
...I really did.
Adroit Hem
"Stabbing a person is murder. Stabbing them without their notice, is art"
Name: Adroit Hem
Age: 22
Race: Regrettably Human
Appearance: 5'5", Adroit is relatively short with a small build weighing no more than a 150 lbs. What he misses in size though, more than makes it up with a fierce glare from his red eyes. Adroit, though small, is rather well built from years of "scuffling" and claiming. Though he takes pride in their beauty, they could be especially cumbersome when attempting to be someone who you are not. The solution to that, as many other questions, would be alchemy. Expensive and time consuming, yet worth the costs if you prefer to be forgotten. From a urchin to a gentry, Adroit is capable of many transformations, given the right material and time of course. Recently though, he was wealthy enough to have maids dress, wash, feed and sex for him, which inevitably caused his physicality to deteriorate.
Nation of origin: The Iron Dominion
Personality: An optimist would look upon Adroit and call him exuberant. A pessimistic would call him a madman. A realistic would know simply give up. Largely inconsistency, Adroit's attitude is ever changing, and is by large a man of whims. This man's beliefs are not to be trusted. The attributes that never seem to change however, is his mindless indulgence in manipulation, either emotion or action. Most of his social pleasantries come in form of insults and subtle mockery, rendering his character to be detestable by most standards. He loves to lie,without directly lying, most of the time for no reason other than to feel the joy of being on the hunt. In each of his plays though, laughing is a lead actor. Adroit is no child though, and is painfully aware of the repercussions behind playing the fool. He, just any other person, does indeed seek companionship. It is simply hard-sought for a man of his tendencies.
Biography:
"Ay Bawl! Five kids are stridin' down the bridge like it's nobody's business! Check them out when they enter will ya?"
Bawl got up with a heavy sigh, nodding upwards towards Frank. The guy was only 20 yards up on the post but screamed like a whore taking it in the asshole by a Dragonkin. Two dragonkin. That's how unique our Frank is
The smell reached him before their faces. Sweat, piss, and dirt. That's all the urchins that worked for Alfred smelled like, paying their protection fine before they even had food in their bellies. He felt bad for them, he did, but today more he felt more for himself, since it was his day to collect the fees. A shower would do fine to drive the smell away, maybe soap too if his woman would stop being stingy.
Blah, this looks like trouble. Only one of them's supposed to come, but it looks like the entire family, each with their own peg stick!
***********************************
"H-Huh? C-Could you repeat that again?" Bawl's mouth opened, forgetting to close.
"I said..." Jay yelled into the face of the 6 foot 3 behemoth "let ma see the fucking bos’!" The boy stopped, took a deep breath, and resumed "I'm tired of starvin' and shittin' blood everyday 'cus I have to pay that lazy fat fucking money gulping whore every shit filled penny I steal so he could waste it on buggering and getting buggered by small 10 year old boys!" And with a roar-- sounding much more like a scream than a war-cry-- he smashed his metal pip against the metal fencing, letting the vibration run through the entire maze of metals. The sound of weak iron against steel rung throughout the complex, up the bridge towards old frank and deep down below, to wherever the hell that leads. All eyes were on him, gaping.
Bawl laughed. Jay was about a foot shorter than he was, five years younger from his 20, and smelled as if he rolled in every dumpster and plugged toilet in The Iron dominion. The child had three other kids with him, all equally hideous. Except the girl. The girl would do good. Slender from not eatin' much, but still has a breast to suck on.
Bawl laugh broke into a grin.
Jay fidgeted. Bawl's face, already rugged and thick with scars beyond his years, tugged at his lips and smiled.
This is going to hurt,I shoulda nev'r agreed to this. The guy looks like he tears cows for a livin'!But the beating never came. Just a smile, and a friendly pat on the back "Sure boy! Lets go se' the bos'" and with an encouraging hand over Jay's shoulder they pushed on.
He made small talk with Jay as the other three kept quiet, speaking about how the Red Gang were going to get it good this time, about all the land us Yellow Drums control. Bawl glanced back a couple times, asking the girl about her name and how come he never seen her around here.
"Huh? O-Oh..I'm Lilia. I-I'm new 'round here." She fidgeted and reddened, her small breasts bouncing with each stutter. Damn, bitch is hot. Bawl felt his nerves waking up, his blood circulating a bit. Her shorts were realshort, showing thighs too fat and delicious for a simple urchin. Later, Later my lil’ friend.
The bridge was long and closed off on all sides by rusted metal beams, and though the path seemed lightly guarded, with the few passing guards whistling at the girl, it seemed that most of the population was up, on another bridge that ran parallel to theirs, which sounded more like a private city than anything else. Through the little holes in the bridge Jay could see many winding paths. They had to stop several times, as Lilia kept tripping on her untied shoes. Each time she tried to fix them, she would have to bend down, which would prompt more hungry eyes and lecherous comments, making her even more flustered.
Bawl didn't mind. He was now walking besides Lilia, with his thick right hand holding her to him as they walked. "Ay I'm real sorry for thos' fools! They never seen a pretty girl before" Lilia blushed, and Jay grimaced. All of a sudden they started to slow down, taking their time, Bawl telling them this or that until the metal beams surrounding them finally gave away. The bridge above them was gone too, cut clean. It resumed 20 strides ahead of them, at the entrance to the next complex. Jay looked oogeled the naked ceiling, his eyes losing themselves in the complex of beams, small, big and large, tied together haphazardly. It seemed that this entire god forsaken structure was built that way. How this entire thing stayed up was a wonder.
The sky opened in front of them, the clouds only a few kilometers from their touch. The sun was starting to take its rest, the few orange lights it gave was beginning to dim "Ain't it pretty? Lewis? Kiv?" The two boys nodded with Jay, walking away from Bawl towards the fencing, as if the few strides they took would bring them closer.
Ha, kids...but damn...these...kids As Lilia stared at the sun, Bawl stared at her. She was a wore a long V neck boy's shirt, which was probably why her breasts stuck to them so well, her nipples sticking out like a sore thump when the wind blew hard on them. Her short hair umber hair teased Bawl's eyes, getting in the way whenever he poked with his eyes. Is this bitch tryin' to- Lilia stepped forward suddenly, her balance disappointing once again somehow. Bawl caught her of course, but not without accidentally catching her by her breasts.
She let go a yelp. A loudone. Everyone, including the guards 20 strides ahead of them, stared at the red faced girl, her breasts being groped from behind by the giant man in broad daylight.
"A-Ahem...I'm sorry..." Bawl said, blushing like a giant tomato.
***********************************
Alfred was a man in his late twenties, his face forever holding an unsatisfied frown upon his face. A terror inducing man, standing at 6 feet tall with muscle bulging at every corner at his body, he dark hair and dark brown eyes, with a heart darker than both. Through brute force, blackmail, and hostage usage, he held control of Low Level District 25, 26, and 28 and 29. All the ones adjacent to Red Gang, District 27, which happened to be the only thing worth holding him back from further expanding. Those slippery assholes with their primitive bow and arrow guerrilla warfare gave him one hell of a headache. The surrounding Districts could not be conquered without the Red Gang out of his backside. Doing so would be no different than being content with a thorn in your boots.
Since last week however, they ceased to be a problem.No one was a problem anymore. Crossbows more expensive than 10 of his best men were being handed to him, for fucking free. Alfred was skeptical at first, but after being showered with funds, tactical information, and new blades, he thought it might be God's will. Fate favored him. After all, where else would a Low Class be able to get a Peacekeeper's Sidearm? All this power? He controlled every thug in the District, had 30 of his most trusted men in his "castle" at every point of time, and was able to afford to station 4 men with those crossbows above him on the railings, just for his protection. Alfred was a king. A king with enough armor inside his shirt to block even bullets. Just you watch...I'll conquer every fucking district and bring the entire country on your heads...just you watch...
Sitting upon his comfortable thorn though, he found himself left agape. He stared at Bawl, the two guards on each side of the entrance,the four body guards on his sides, and then back to the kid.
"Boy, I don't think I heard you correctly. Repeat yourself" Alfred stared, genuinely dumbfounded.
And so, for the fourth time "I said..." Jay began, even more loudly, "I'm tired of starvin' and shittin' blood everyday 'cus I have to pay that lazy fat fucking money gulping whore every shit filled penny I steal so he could waste it on buggering and getting buggered by small 10 year old boys!"
A silence, save for Jay's wheezing, ran throughout the room, for the second time.
The laughter followed after. A deep, gleeful, and loud laughter with tears followed by it. Alfred laughed. The guards next to Alfred laughed. The above him were laughing too, one falling needing to lean on the railing, while the other was enjoying himself on the floor.
Then Alfred stopped, and as did everyone else. All sound vanished, all except the sound of droplets smashing against metal.
Alfred waved with an annoyed look " Stick the girl through a stick after you've had your fun, next to these fools' heads in the usual place.”
Bawl had already disarmed them of their petty sticks, not that he saw the need for. Boss's orders. He always likes to be on the safe side. The guards also moved in lazily, some of them with glee, some of with annoyance. Bawl, who stood closest next to the girl for that very purpose, had first dibs. Since when did I become so clever?
He reached from behind for the girl's breasts once again, this time with intent, but was quite surprised to have her spin a full 180, breaking through his arms and charging straight into one of the two guarding the entrance. Bawl was confused. What was that going to do? The guy was twice her size. Then he saw the guy drop, a dagger stuck in heart, his sword being unsheathed as he fell. Then Kin, tallest and biggest of them, which didn't account for much mind you, Charged, ignoring Bawl, and tacking the other guard, Lilia promptly sticking a sword in his sides he attempted to beat Kin off. Quick and practiced, as if they had done it a hundred of times. That leaves 9 armed men, four with crossbows against four armed children, Bawl noticed from the floor. Huh? The floor? A pool of red warmed him. Ah he thought, my neck is open.
***********************************
-- Five left, Lilia counted.
"GUT THEM" Alfred bellowed, his lax face suddenly raising red and load when the third man fell down, stabbed by the second man's disarmed sword. Three of his guards, dead and disarmed by fuckin’ 13 year olds.
The kids smirked, their sharp sticks in hand, as if they had it all figured out.
The four guards that were left charge, quicker than men there size should be able to. Lilia watched, moaning mockingly as they approached. Kiv and Lewis looked equally provoking. Alfred felt a shiver down his spine as the last of his men charged. I need more guards. Not letting anyone see me without stripping them to the bone next. But still, something was off. That notion though lessened as the men neared the kids, their arrogant faces gradually breaking into doubt and confusion. One of the kids then,Jay, looked up and roared, a horrifying mixture of wrath, detestation, and youthfulness "Reke, you fucking psycho! I knew I should have kill--w-wait!" but by that time the guards had already crashed into them, their weapons coming down.
********************************** Jay’s body was almost split into two by a simple overhead slash, the sword in his falling out of his hands helplessly. There was only so much a child could do against steroid pumped buffoons, Reke observed. Eight. Lilia, being the smart girl she was, had already bolted out the entrance, leaving Kiv to hold his ground. Kiv, the tallest of the urchins, attempted to parry a sword for the first time in his life. Who knows, maybe he has a hidden talent. The slash went down, cutting his fingers, twirled up, cutting his arms like butter, then finally came down, his head coming off in one swift motion. Yeah, didn’t think so. Seven.
Lewis head was already smashed in, a metal staff sinking into his skull. “I knew his head was empty! Six.“
All the urchins lay dead, their bodies dirtying the room. “Get the whore” Growled, Alfred sinking into his throne. The smallest of the guards, which was by no manners small except for his dick maybe, took off running after her. She wouldn’t get far. Those squishy thighs weren’t made for running.
The three guards didn’t require further prompting, and began to drag the bodies out of the room “Losing three men to children in my own chamber...How shameful” Alfred braked, at who, Reke didn’t know.
He answered anyway though “Seven actually.” Alfred heard high pitched voice above him, followed by the sound of a crossbow being released. With a blur the bolt was lodged into the back one of the guards. “Eight down” And Five left. The same laughter which echoed in his chambers moments ago blew up again. Just as Alfred jolted from his seat, a four pound crossbow came crashing down on his skull. He fell instantly, lips kissing the floor. The rest of guards heard neither the crossbow firing or their friend in the back falling, but they did hear the nasty crash. They turned, confused at their friend laying in the ground. Their boss too, was muttering things with his cheeks to the ground, a broken crossbow lays in smithereens. Everybody in this goddamn world is confused, now isn’t that funny?. The two guards had the mind to look up, which was rather unfortunate, for them, since by that time only one of them was left standing. Four Reke hummed to himself, picking up another crossbow from the pile as the second one fall sunk onto Alfred head. The other had the mind to bolt for the entrance, as the wide rectangular room offered no cover. Smart, but Reke’s aim proved to be smarter. The man took five strides before crumbling to the floor, the bolt ramming him like a bull.
At that point Reke wondered which would launch him further, firing the damn thing or getting hit by one. Each one threw him a couple of feet back, and this one nearly knocked him down. The thing must weigh six pounds or something.
"Y-You idiot! Do you have any idea how much these cos-" the last crossbow, instead of breaking on Alfred’s thick skull, did the opposite and shut him up for good. Three.
“And that’s that!” Reke answered the dead room. Reke glided down the stairs, laid down his two newly acclaimed crossbows, and searched through Alfred’s pockets. A revolver? The hell I’m I gonna do with this useless shit? Reke tossed the useless metal over his head. I climbed walls, ceilings, and up this entire mutant building. I got up so high I thought I saw God. I crawled under the feat of men, knifed four without as much as a sound save for a thud. Reke stopped, recalling the sound the blood made as it sneaked past the rusted railings and onto the floor. Alright, one mistake. But my aim was damn good! Reke stopped again, recalling that even amateurs are able to hit targets less than 30 yards away. Fine, fuck this messy job, but where is the fucking key? Reke had basically stripped Alfred naked, felt nearly every hole he could found, and still did not find it. He was about to reach into the guy’s asshole before noticing the boots. Of course he would keep it in his boot. It wouldn’t be fair otherwise, now would it?
Reke sighed as cut open the laces, taking off both boots before finding it. He stood up, tucking the key into one his tighter pockets and picking one of the crossbow lazily, rewinding it. So far, nothing has gone wrong.
So something will happen now, and I won't like it
It was unnatural, for a plan to work, so he figured he might have two crossbows ready. I’ll be fine as long as they don’t plan on having an orgy. It took him a full minute until one of the spare bolt locked firmly in place.Toughest thing I’ve done all day.
“You lil’ shit wanna ‘nother beating?” The last guard walked into the room, carrying dear Lilia on his shoulders. It didn’t take him long to see Reke’s “masterwork.” He stopped abruptly, staring at the horrifying scene. His friends, his boss, and the urchins all lay dead.
Just as the guard halted, Lilia thrashed around with all the life in her, elbow reaching and knocking his head to the sides. The guards first impulse was to drop and impale the bitch, though the bolt that swiveled a breath from his ear said proposed otherwise. The guard acted quickly, more habit than reflexes, and threw Lilia in front of him, holding her against his body. A hostage.
Second Mistake.Reke grimaced, staring at lila from the exist. He was planning on escaping if more than two came, but he never guessed he would actually miss. Lila’s red lips were bleeding otherwise her face was mostly left unharmed. It was a pretty face too, he was glad it hadn’t been bruised. Her shirt had ripped in the chase, showing a dangerous amount of cleavage. She knows how I take my kills, that lil’ witch. She knocked his head the moment he stopped to gawk. She smiled defiantly at Reke, panting through the disdain in her eyes. A shame. If you wasn’t planning on cutting my balls out the moment we escaped, and If I wasn’t planning on gutting you too, then we might have made a fine couple.
“You little fuck! One move and I--” The guard, though the smartest of the dead men here, did not pick the right hostage. Lilia's body was simply too frail, the bolt flying through her as if she wasn’t even there. The bolt stopped halfway through into the man’s chest, sticking them together. “I’ll...see you in hell...fucker” Lilia whispered as her life slipped away.
The man dead man tried to pull the bolt out chest, but only more blood came. Slowly, he too faded.
"Two and One! Together to their graves! A very romantic ending. I’m almost jealous” With a gracious bow, Reke set fire to the place and escaped, taking the key with him.
Reke decided to become a gentry that day.
*************************
Five years later, two fortunes lost and one borrowed, as well 10 different name changes left Reke, who was now Kaladin, in a dire need of a new hobby.
The World Court was just the place for that.
Skills:
The Devil's Trade: Adroit's early childhood had taught his body many difficult things, things not easily forgotten. His body gains a boost to everything in exchange for his humanity.
Quick: Whether it may be a sport or a language, Adroit catches on pretty quick, though his mastery of the task is always limited.
Apprentice Of Disguise: These past few years had not been wasted. Time in the court with money to spend, gain, and lose had taught Adroit many things. Being someone he was not, was of the first
Weaknesses:
Superior Humanity: A part of Adroit is missing, rendering him mentally weak. Whether it may be the value of a human life or a shred of kindness, he does not know. Most humans deprived of basic rights gain this quirk, though Adroit's case is most severe.
Under Your Skin: Ironically, though Adroit is unable to sympathize with men, he does know what makes them tick. Useful against an enemy, harmful to your allies. Induces hostility, anger, and weakness.
Anti-Hero: Uncontrolled kindness? Refusal to sacrifice one for the many? Forgive thy enemy, so they may wreck havoc once again?! Such incomprehensible foolishness sicks me.
Boredom: Sharper Than Daggers? Unable to perform repetitive tasks for an "extensive time." A lack of new and exciting distractions cause Adroit to be increasingly theatrical. Most often than not, his acts cause things to break.
Rusty: Instincts die in a controlled and safe environment. Suffers a major drawback on all skills for a limited time.
Equipment:
Gentry Clothing It has its uses.
It was love at first sight. Bought at an auction house for relatively cheap price. Hadn't had much of a use for it yet, as a life of a gentry rarely requires you to dirty your hands.
If it's fantasy, intricate, and has a relation to tearing things apart, or strategizing of how to tear things apart, then I would gladly join whatever sadistic aspiration you have in mind.
<div style="white-space:pre-wrap;">If it's fantasy, intricate, and has a relation to tearing things apart, or strategizing of how to tear things apart, then I would gladly join whatever sadistic aspiration you have in mind.</div>
