knighthawk

://Crown of Eden [High-Casual]

K.K.

Name/Title:
Kyle Kalahari

Race:
Human

Gender:
Male

Appearance:


Significant Memory:
Two things always seem to conflict within him; A resentful ease at taking orders and running. He was helpful to a fault, doing whatever is asked of him to the point of doing the jobs no one else wanted to do. This obviously made a manner of mental pressure that he blew off any time he went faster than a jog. Something about exerting himself and the wind over his face let him mellow out the pressures.

Other:

://Crown of Eden

Interested as well.

🦄 Duplicity - D&D Style Fantasy Rp Adventure (Completed)

<Snipped quote by knighthawk>

<Snipped quote by Lady Amalthea>

Sorry, I don't mean to intrude and go all necromancer on such and old post, a rogue keyword search brought me here. If you're speaking of the same Drizzak I'm thinking of, I'm really really honored you remember. Thanks for making my day, fading back into the aether now.

@Horrid

He was certainly memorable, moreso to the big brute.

A Good Old Dungeon Spelunk.

I am interested as well.

💀Zombie RP💀 (FULL)

If there is room for another, color me interested.

Hi captain! Hola potata.

Dungeon Fantasy [A Comedy Rp!]

Three!

Suicide 🚷 Squad

Johnny let the song end without encore as they touched down. Now that they were on the job he shifted the way his guitar functioned, as he strum the strings, no noise came out as he was working his way up the scales. He smelled faintly of brimstone as he started to sweat from the effort of his silent solo, clearly he was preparing for something and only by His Infernal Majesty did they not encounter any guards before all hell broke loose.

One solider down by heat vision, one taking down the muscle of the group, and the knight about to take on a third. There was no way in hell he could take on even a half-baked clone, it wasn't his gig, but he could help in plenty of ways.

He took up his slouched stance, his spine in an exaggerated S-curve as he brought his arms down hard, releasing....nothing. Nothing that is, that any human could hear. One hundred and eighty decibles, the level at which ear drums rupture, at fifty hertz, the range of a dog whistle. A very limited range of targets, five targets. Let the bastards heads explode from the magical maelstrom if it works. He himself was immune to the sonic slam...and he hoped he didn't just melt the faces off of his whole team. but this is why they were a suicide squad.

The Seven Shards (medieval fantasy thinly based on DnD3.5)

snatches the scroll

Oi, I'm the wizard here. This shit should stay with me.

@Joshua Tamashii

Blinks at his hands are empty. "I guess they don't teach manners at the wizard school."

The Seven Shards (medieval fantasy thinly based on DnD3.5)

Eh, just move on without me. I've been dead for the past few days and I think I'm going to do it again. So sorry.

@LordofthePies

*pulls out his animate dead scroll*

Suicide 🚷 Squad

Johnny popped his neck, his back, his ams, and his hands, then his neck again, his wrists, his back again... In fact, it seemed he could either pop any join on purpose or else he was really good at being irritating. Who's to say? He stood up and shook it off before standing up with his hands in ready position and breathed out a thick black smoke that pooled in his ams like milk in a glass of watter until his lady was fully formed between his fingers.

"Five minutes? St, Roche? Supermen? Cool. I hoped for Solomon Grundy...Ah well."


"Now when I was just a little boy, standin' to my Daddy's knee.
My Poppa said 'son don't let the man get you, do what he done to me'

I can remember the fourth of July, runnin' through the backwood bare.
And I can still hear my old hound dog barkin' chasin' down a hoodoo there.

Born on the bayou
Born on the bayou
Born on the bayou
Born on the bayou.

Wish I was back on the bayou, rollin' with some Cajun Queen.
Wishin' I were a freight train, oh, just a-chooglin' on down to New Orleans.

Born on the bayou
Born on the bayou
Born on the bayou
Born on the bayou
Born on the bayou
Born on the bayou.

I can remember the fourth of July, runnin' through the backwood bare.
And I can still hear my old hound dog barkin', chasin' down a hoodoo there,
Chasin' down a hoodoo there. Chasin' down a hoodoo there.

Born on the bayouBorn on the bayou
Born on the bayou
Born on the bayou
Born on the bayou
Born on the bayou
Born on the bayou."

As he sang, his music began to have a subtle effect, more than just the usual head bobboing, it actually started to synchronise those that could hear it, bringing pulses to a similar rhythm with breathing. He fell into his gift of lead musician to try and get everyone on the same page.