Flynn could only stand there, his face slowly blushing as he tried to find the words to express his bewilderment at Chris' audacity. Moments would pass before he would simply turn about and head for the door.
"You won this round, giant boy." he'd state before heading out. Normally, Flynn would be quick to find a witty remark to deflect such a dumb bit but perhaps he was still tired from the boat trip. Since he wasn't gonna find peace in his own room at this time, he decided to just find the nearest piece of furniture and simply crash there. While it wasn't exactly luxury decor, the Ra Yellow dorm did have serviceable common areas.
Surely the rest of the yellows weren't as weird as his roommate.
The sea breeze did little to calm Flynn's nerves. Multiple colossal chartered ships carried many of the freshly inducted students of Duel Academy to their island destination. Most would use their trip to socialize with their new peers and classmates. For the capricious Ra Yellow student, Flynn had decided to spend the last leg of the trip alone while overlooking the ocean from the vessel's portside — gazing into the blue with uncertainty and envy. It still didn't make sense to him.
Tried as he did, Flynn would have to carry this doubt with him as the ship reached the shore. It felt like a blur, walking from the pier to suddenly receiving his uniform. He was now wrapped in the glimmer of false gold. Reality had began to set in but he supposed that this was better than delinquent red. Curiously, the chancellor also wore red. What was up with that?
The rest of the orientation was standard fare and Flynn would uneventfully make his way to his dorm room. Seemingly arriving first, he would be ready to crash face first on to the bed closest to the door but he would be interrupted with the arrival of...
"Yo. I'm Chris, you?"
"Flynn... So, we're roommates. Any boundaries you want to establish? I'm cool with anything."
He wasn't. Flynn was already formulating a list of rules that would ensure that this titan of a man he was saddled wouldn't interfere with his studies. However, he figured it was the smart thing to make Chris think that they would arrive to a mutual agreement.
Just like a duel, Flynn had passed the turn back to his roommate.
Personality: A meticulous pessimist who hopes for the best but is expecting the worst. Flynn is not so secretly envious of his peers and is slowly becoming spiteful because of it. Choosing to bottle up his feelings, he presents a confident and respectful facade in public. For his own sake, Flynn intends to not get close enough to anyone from the academy in order to spare them from the inevitable disappointment of truly knowing him.
Once he's King of Games, he won't need friends anyway. Right?
History: School life tended to be easy for Flynn before arriving at Central Academy. He'd finish his tests with tons of time to spare and he'd duel circles around his classmates. Surely this would also be the case when he arrived at the prestigious dueling school of his dreams. The young lad had it all planned out - get accepted to Obelisk Blue and network with the elites of world via his new peers.
On the day of the entrance exam, Flynn held high hopes and even higher expectations. During the initial written test, he blazed through it without any reservation. He even cracked a smile as he submitted his answers before the majority of the other prospects. However, the practical duel against the proctor proved to be a bit harder. Going into it with the same reckless abandon he usually had, Flynn barely managed to get his win.
But that victory was all for naught. Instead of blue, he would be met with yellow. For the next few days after finding out the result, Flynn would be mulling to himself about where it all went wrong. Did he miss a page of questions? Surely his card knowledge wasn't wrong. Was it his academic background? It wasn't his fault that his family couldn't send him to an expensive boarding school!
None of this was his fault.
Still though, he wasn't gonna let this minor setback stop him. He's gonna grit his teeth and slowly get back on track, hopefully climbing over the lucky Obelisk Blues that overshadowed him in the process.
Spirituality: Flynn is completely unaware of dueling spirits. As far as he knows, cards are just mass printed products from the geniuses of Industrial Illusions.
Spirit Partner: Ancient Gear Gadget
Ace Card: Boot-Up Admiral - Destroyer Dynamo
Deck(s): Gear Today, Gone Tomorrow
Main Deck: Boot-Up Admiral - Destroyer Dynamo x1 Gold Gadget x3 Silver Gadget x3 Green Gadget x3 Red Gadget x3 Yellow Gadget x3 Ancient Gear Gadget x3 Ancient Gear Box x1 Boot-Up Corporal - Command Dynamo x2 Boot-Up Soldier - Dread Dynamo x1 Gravity Balance x1 Limiter Removal x1 Machina Defense Perimeter x1 Machine Assembly Line x1 Machina Armored Unit x1 Boot-Up Order - Gear Charge x2 Solidarity x3 Boot-Up Order - Gear Force x1 Stronghold the Moving Fortress x1 Powerhold the Moving Battery x2 Metalhold the Moving Blockade x2 Crusher Run x1
Alright, here's my CS. Tell me if I need to change anything.
Name: Flynn Aspadana
Gender: ♂
Dorm: Ra Yellow
Personality: A meticulous pessimist who hopes for the best but is expecting the worst. Flynn is not so secretly envious of his peers and is slowly becoming spiteful because of it. Choosing to bottle up his feelings, he presents a confident and respectful facade in public. For his own sake, Flynn intends to not get close enough to anyone from the academy in order to spare them from the inevitable disappointment of truly knowing him.
Once he's King of Games, he won't need friends anyway. Right?
History: School life tended to be easy for Flynn before arriving at Central Academy. He'd finish his tests with tons of time to spare and he'd duel circles around his classmates. Surely this would also be the case when he arrived at the prestigious dueling school of his dreams. The young lad had it all planned out - get accepted to Obelisk Blue and network with the elites of world via his new peers.
On the day of the entrance exam, Flynn held high hopes and even higher expectations. During the initial written test, he blazed through it without any reservation. He even cracked a smile as he submitted his answers before the majority of the other prospects. However, the practical duel against the proctor proved to be a bit harder. Going into it with the same reckless abandon he usually had, Flynn barely managed to get his win.
But that victory was all for naught. Instead of blue, he would be met with yellow. For the next few days after finding out the result, Flynn would be mulling to himself about where it all went wrong. Did he miss a page of questions? Surely his card knowledge wasn't wrong. Was it his academic background? It wasn't his fault that his family couldn't send him to an expensive boarding school!
None of this was his fault.
Still though, he wasn't gonna let this minor setback stop him. He's gonna grit his teeth and slowly get back on track, hopefully climbing over the lucky Obelisk Blues that overshadowed him in the process.
Spirituality: Flynn is completely unaware of dueling spirits. As far as he knows, cards are just mass printed products from the geniuses of Industrial Illusions.
Spirit Partner: Ancient Gear Gadget
Ace Card: Boot-Up Admiral - Destroyer Dynamo
Deck(s): Gear Today, Gone Tomorrow
Main Deck: Boot-Up Admiral - Destroyer Dynamo x1 Gold Gadget x3 Silver Gadget x3 Green Gadget x3 Red Gadget x3 Yellow Gadget x3 Ancient Gear Gadget x3 Ancient Gear Box x1 Boot-Up Corporal - Command Dynamo x2 Boot-Up Soldier - Dread Dynamo x1 Gravity Balance x1 Limiter Removal x1 Machina Defense Perimeter x1 Machine Assembly Line x1 Machina Armored Unit x1 Boot-Up Order - Gear Charge x2 Solidarity x3 Boot-Up Order - Gear Force x1 Stronghold the Moving Fortress x1 Powerhold the Moving Battery x2 Metalhold the Moving Blockade x2 Crusher Run x1
Sunlight had become scarce and night soon beckoned yet it felt as if an eternity must pass before lord Rycann of the Dreadfort could retire for the day. He had been listening to the trouble that befell his small folk, one after the other, since what felt like daybreak. How he longed for the days where a steed and a sword were his only concerns out on the hot fields of Essos. Nostalgia for an uncertain time now seen clearly with enjoyment kept his apathy at bay.
Still, the Redmark's daydreams would be interrupted.
"... And as such m'lord, I ask you on behalf of the small folk for a lighter tax burden due to the harvest failure." Those were the only words he had paid attention to from the latest petitioner. The man was well-dressed in southern fashion but had a full beard typical of that of a Northernman. If he had to hazard a guess? This was a freeman from White Harbor. What game was this upstart playing at, Rycann pondered to himself.
"Why would I reward failure?" Rycann quipped. The petitioner was caught offguard, mouth agape as he tried to recompose himself. "A-as I mentioned m'lord, without coin for supplies not only would the small folk starve but traders such as myself wou-" Before the petitioner could finish, Rycann had signalled his household guards to take the man away. Such naked greed was unbecoming and he had enough of dealing with that for a lifetime.
Still, this wasn't the first time today he had heard of trouble among the small folk's harvest. It wasn't quite winter yet but the threat of starvation and instability had to be taken seriously. How Rycann had wished that they could just stated their pleas all at once instead of doing so one by one throughout the day though. Before he could lament further, the next petitioner had entered and it was his own son Alaric. While a common sight within the walls of the Dreadfort, the Bolton boy did drag along an interesting companion.
"Alaric, why do drag a man bound and gagged to my court." the Redmark stated dryly, staring at a beaten up peasant stripped down to rags.
"My lord father, this criminal had been caught poaching on our lands. I have brought him before you to exact justice." Alaric responded with greater enthusiasm as he yanked the chains of the criminal.
The lord of the Dreadfort could only rub the side of his face at the response to his inquiry. "Lad, why do you waste my time? You are born of this house, you are free to administer justice in our name. Cut off this thief's hands and feed them to Brack's hounds for all I care."
The accused could only weep at his fate as he was met with uncaring silence from everyone else at court. As Alaric dragged him away with ease, the next petitioner would be yet another peasant in somehow even worse clothing. "Milord, troubles over the Weeping Water's coast has scared my hens and they do not lay as muc-"
Rycann simply stood up and walked away. He had taken all the foolishness he could bear for today.
The small folk of the Dreadfort are all complaining and Rycann has heard enough of their petitions. Unfortunately, he might have skipped over a peasant's sighting of trouble sailing his way.
A red flayed man on pale pink strewn with red drops
House Bolton of The Dreadfort
"Our Blades Are Sharp"
House Description: Once renowned as Red Kings during the Age of Heroes, House Bolton sowed terror and paranoia across the North as rulers of the Dreadfort. While they now bend the knee and pledge fealty to House Stark, the banner of the flayed man still inspires fear in friend and foe alike.
Recent History:
The ascendance of Rycann Bolton to the Dreadfort's lordship began in tragedy and remains shrouded in secrecy. His late lord father - Robett "Ravenskin" - had died due to illness and within the fortnight the disease had spread across the fortress grounds and claimed the lives of many others. Among the other lost souls were his eldest brother Rodrick and their household maester Bertram.
But that was many seasons ago. No specificities about the tragedy could be determined but rumours are a plenty. Whispers say that the Old Gods had punished their house due to Rycann and his brother Aden violating their house's oath not to flay men during their time in Essos. Further still, some braver and more foolish dare to say that the Redmark himself orchestrated the tragedy with the employment of Braavosi assassins. Though there is one truth known for certain with regards to this matter. Any man who dares speak of the incident may find himself before the lord of the Dreadfort, pleading a case as to why his tongue be not cut off for speaking falsities.
As for their political standing, there has always been an air of fear when dealing with the Boltons and Lord Rycann has used this to shore up his grip on power. None of the other Northern houses have any immediate issues with his position and he has also kept to his vows of fealty to the Starks with no quarrel. Time will tell if this will remain the case as grumblings from the south are starting to reach his court.
Appearance: The first thing anyone notices about Rycann is inevitably the eponymous burn mark that scarred his face. However, only some might make the observation that the lord of the Dreadfort obscures the untarnished part of his face with his long, dark hair.
Description & biography:
Born the youngest male among three brothers, Rycann's lordship of the Dreadfort was never set in stone. Witnessing the daily duties of his father's court, he had concluded that the politics of Westeros were not for him at an early age. On his sixteenth name day, he had departed the realm he had called home and would soon arrive on the shores of Essos to join the Second Sons mercenary company. His brother Aden, going by the nom de guerre "Quickbolt", had join this group of noble sellswords years prior and had risen to a captaincy due to his tactical prowess and ruthlessness. Serving as his brother's second-in-command, Rycann would quickly adapt to his new environment and pick up on the intricacies of a new field of politics. This one though had a lot more outright bloodshed involved.
Though he was now adventuring in an exotic land, the looming threat of death was always a knife's edge away. Yet, he revelled in this brutality and fought with reckless abandon. This would not be without cost however as an opposing foe nearly burnt off his face with a torch, barely surviving by choking out his foe and being saved by his comrades afterwards. Taking his survival of the crucible as a sign from the gods, he would wear his new scars as a badge of honor and would by then go by the name Redmark. However, it would be his further actions that would cement his reputation.
In the land of Essos, the most visceral of the Boltons' legacy could be freely practised by the two brothers as they were no longer bound by the oath the Starks had imposed upon their house as they were no longer in the North. During prolonged campaigns, those that would be captured among their routed foes that were neither rich nor noble would be flayed as a warning. The poor fools would be rope bound on makeshift wooden crosses, slowly burning away under the hot sun as carrion would come to feast on their flesh. The practice was widely reviled, demoralizing some and hardening others. Unfortunately, this happened to both their enemies and their allies. Their personal sellsword band among the Second Sons would dwindle to a loyal few, more ruthless but just as effective. The names Redmark and Quickbolt were now infamous.
However, his time adventuring would eventually come to an end as a messenger had informed him that tragedy had befallen upon his house, claiming the lives of his father Robett and brother Rodrick. A discussion between the two brothers would result in Aden refusing to give up his position among the Second Sons and the lordship of the Dreadfort had fallen to Rycann. While this might have sparked a potential succession dispute, the Quickbolt would meet his end as he fell off his horse while leading a pursuit mere weeks after Rycann returned to the Dreadfort.
His adventures are now merely memories. Lord Rycann had found himself in the position that he ran away from all those years ago. However, he cannot help but wonder how differently his life would have turned out if he had not returned to fulfill the duty he owed to his house.
Desmond Bolton
Age: 20 (182 A.C.)
Appearance: His skin is as pale as the snow surrounding the banks of the Weeping Water, hair as brown as first spring's mud on the Lonely Hills. If one were to describe the image of a man from House Bolton, one might have inadvertently described Desmond if it were not for his eyes. Instead of his house's ghost grey eyes, he instead possesses a deep auburn hue like that of his mother.
Description & biography:
The heir presumptive of the Dreadfort, Desmond Bolton indulges in the many pleasures of life that his station affords him. Like many others of his house, rumours surround his vices but none can be too sure about their true nature. However, unlike his kin, it is not just violence that plagues his reputation. Desmond supposedly beds many of the common folk women in a private residence at White Harbor while also squandering his father's wealth on frivolous luxuries imported from the other lands.
While a first born son of House Bolton, Desmond is uncharacteristically social for a Northman. Preferring the intrigues of southern court life over a Northern feast or melee, Desmond spent most of his teenage years as a page in the Reach under House Tarly and found the other kingdoms to be more vibrant and festive than his own. Even today, he keeps correspondence with his former hosts and attends events all over the Seven Kingdoms if only to avoid confinement of the cold walls of his own keep.
Alaric Bolton
Age: 17 (185 A.C.)
Appearance: Standing at over six feet and weighing at sixteen stone, the heavyset Alaric strikes a memorable figure at first glance. While the youngest of Rycann's children, he is easily the most imposing in appearance as he also possess the lineage's signature grey eyes. A calm demeanour constantly masks his face though many take to mean and assume that he is naturally cold and aloof.
Description & biography:
The second son of House Bolton and named after his mother, he is the clear favourite among Rycann's children. Unlike his brother who spent his formative years in the Reach, Alaric stayed in the North and had squired under Torrhen "Silver Fang" of House Stark instead. He was already naturally gifted in physical endeavours while the lessons from his mentor and his father would only further his martial talents.
While his grandfather was infamous in obscuring every endeavour he undertook, Alaric is seemingly becoming the Ravenskin's antithesis. The young lordling does not hold many secrets and is blunt with his words, accidentally offending his peers from time to to time. However, what he lacks in guile, he makes up for with nerves of steel and a heart of stone. Acting in the name of his father, Alaric has personally put criminals to the sword without as much as flinching.
Raelith Bolton
Rycann's only surviving sibling. While the title "Lady of the Dreadfort" would usually go to a female ruler of House Bolton or the ruling lord's wife, it finds contemporary usage in reference to Raelith. The lady Alarra detests her presence at court.
Alarra Bolton née Umber
Age: 36 (168 A.C.)
Description & biography: Once promised to be wed to Rodrick, Alarra would instead become Rycann's lady wife. A daughter of house Umber, she is noticeably taller than Rycann and is known for her straightforwardness.
Robett "The Ravenskin" Bolton
Description & biography: The late lord father of Rycann, the Ravenskin was known for many things and only half of those may be true. There was one thing apparent about his lordship of the Dreadfort and it was how he seemingly knew everything that went on in his realm.
Thus, one of the most prominent rumours about Robett was that he was a skinchanger and observed his domain through the eyes of ravens.
Rodrick Bolton
Description & biography: Rycann's eldest brother and once heir-presumptive to the Dreadfort. By all accounts, he was a fine noble who had a bright future that was snuffed out.
Aden "Quickbolt" Bolton
Description & biography: Second son of the Ravenskin and brother to Rodrick and Rycann, Aden was a lordling who loved fighting in melees and attending tourneys. Eventually, he would travel east to carve out his own fortune. He was renowned for his fighting prowess, specially with a crossbow.
He would meet an unfortunate end while chasing down his foes on horseback, accidentally getting bucked off and cracking his skull on impact.
A red flayed man on pale pink strewn with red drops
House Bolton of The Dreadfort
"Our Blades Are Sharp"
House Description: Once renowned as Red Kings during the Age of Heroes, House Bolton sowed terror and paranoia across the North as rulers of the Dreadfort. While they now bend the knee and pledge fealty to House Stark, the banner of the flayed man still inspires fear in friend and foe alike.
Recent History:
The ascendance of Rycann Bolton to the Dreadfort's lordship began in tragedy and remains shrouded in secrecy. His late lord father - Robett "Ravenskin" - had died due to illness and within the fortnight the disease had spread across the fortress grounds and claimed the lives of many others. Among the other lost souls were his eldest brother Rodrick and their household maester Bertram.
But that was many seasons ago. No specificities about the tragedy could be determined but rumours are a plenty. Whispers say that the Old Gods had punished their house due to Rycann and his brother Aden violating their house's oath not to flay men during their time in Essos. Further still, some braver and more foolish dare to say that the Redmark himself orchestrated the tragedy with the employment of Braavosi assassins. Though there is one truth known for certain with regards to this matter. Any man who dares speak of the incident may find himself before the lord of the Dreadfort, pleading a case as to why his tongue be not cut off for speaking falsities.
As for their political standing, there has always been an air of fear when dealing with the Boltons and Lord Rycann has used this to shore up his grip on power. None of the other Northern houses have any immediate issues with his position and he has also kept to his vows of fealty to the Starks with no quarrel. Time will tell if this will remain the case as grumblings from the south are starting to reach his court.
Appearance: The first thing anyone notices about Rycann is inevitably the eponymous burn mark that scarred his face. However, only some might make the observation that the lord of the Dreadfort obscures the untarnished part of his face with his long, dark hair.
Description & biography:
Born the youngest male among three brothers, Rycann's lordship of the Dreadfort was never set in stone. Witnessing the daily duties of his father's court, he had concluded that the politics of Westeros were not for him at an early age. On his sixteenth name day, he had departed the realm he had called home and would soon arrive on the shores of Essos to join the Second Sons mercenary company. His brother Aden, going by the nom de guerre "Quickbolt", had join this group of noble sellswords years prior and had risen to a captaincy due to his tactical prowess and ruthlessness. Serving as his brother's second-in-command, Rycann would quickly adapt to his new environment and pick up on the intricacies of a new field of politics. This one though had a lot more outright bloodshed involved.
Though he was now adventuring in an exotic land, the looming threat of death was always a knife's edge away. Yet, he revelled in this brutality and fought with reckless abandon. This would not be without cost however as an opposing foe nearly burnt off his face with a torch, barely surviving by choking out his foe and being saved by his comrades afterwards. Taking his survival of the crucible as a sign from the gods, he would wear his new scars as a badge of honor and would by then go by the name Redmark. However, it would be his further actions that would cement his reputation.
In the land of Essos, the most visceral of the Boltons' legacy could be freely practised by the two brothers as they were no longer bound by the oath the Starks had imposed upon their house as they were no longer in the North. During prolonged campaigns, those that would be captured among their routed foes that were neither rich nor noble would be flayed as a warning. The poor fools would be rope bound on makeshift wooden crosses, slowly burning away under the hot sun as carrion would come to feast on their flesh. The practice was widely reviled, demoralizing some and hardening others. Unfortunately, this happened to both their enemies and their allies. Their personal sellsword band among the Second Sons would dwindle to a loyal few, more ruthless but just as effective. The names Redmark and Quickbolt were now infamous.
However, his time adventuring would eventually come to an end as a messenger had informed him that tragedy had befallen upon his house, claiming the lives of his father Robett and brother Rodrick. A discussion between the two brothers would result in Aden refusing to give up his position among the Second Sons and the lordship of the Dreadfort had fallen to Rycann. While this might have sparked a potential succession dispute, the Quickbolt would meet his end as he fell off his horse while leading a pursuit mere weeks after Rycann returned to the Dreadfort.
His adventures are now merely memories. Lord Rycann had found himself in the position that he ran away from all those years ago. However, he cannot help but wonder how differently his life would have turned out if he had not returned to fulfill the duty he owed to his house.
Desmond Bolton
Age: 20 (182 A.C.)
Appearance: His skin is as pale as the snow surrounding the banks of the Weeping Water, hair as brown as first spring's mud on the Lonely Hills. If one were to describe the image of a man from House Bolton, one might have inadvertently described Desmond if it were not for his eyes. Instead of his house's ghost grey eyes, he instead possesses a deep auburn hue like that of his mother.
Description & biography:
The heir presumptive of the Dreadfort, Desmond Bolton indulges in the many pleasures of life that his station affords him. Like many others of his house, rumours surround his vices but none can be too sure about their true nature. However, unlike his kin, it is not just violence that plagues his reputation. Desmond supposedly beds many of the common folk women in a private residence at White Harbor while also squandering his father's wealth on frivolous luxuries imported from the other lands.
While a first born son of House Bolton, Desmond is uncharacteristically social for a Northman. Preferring the intrigues of southern court life over a Northern feast or melee, Desmond spent most of his teenage years as a page in the Reach under House Tarly and found the other kingdoms to be more vibrant and festive than his own. Even today, he keeps correspondence with his former hosts and attends events all over the Seven Kingdoms if only to avoid confinement of the cold walls of his own keep.
Alaric Bolton
Age: 17 (185 A.C.)
Appearance: Standing at over six feet and weighing at sixteen stone, the heavyset Alaric strikes a memorable figure at first glance. While the youngest of Rycann's children, he is easily the most imposing in appearance as he also possess the lineage's signature grey eyes. A calm demeanour constantly masks his face though many take to mean and assume that he is naturally cold and aloof.
Description & biography:
The second son of House Bolton and named after his mother, he is the clear favourite among Rycann's children. Unlike his brother who spent his formative years in the Reach, Alaric stayed in the North and had squired under Torrhen "Silver Fang" of House Stark instead. He was already naturally gifted in physical endeavours while the lessons from his mentor and his father would only further his martial talents.
While his grandfather was infamous in obscuring every endeavour he undertook, Alaric is seemingly becoming the Ravenskin's antithesis. The young lordling does not hold many secrets and is blunt with his words, accidentally offending his peers from time to to time. However, what he lacks in guile, he makes up for with nerves of steel and a heart of stone. Acting in the name of his father, Alaric has personally put criminals to the sword without as much as flinching.
Raelith Bolton
Rycann's only surviving sibling. While the title "Lady of the Dreadfort" would usually go to a female ruler of House Bolton or the ruling lord's wife, it finds contemporary usage in reference to Raelith. The lady Alarra detests her presence at court.
Alarra Bolton née Umber
Age: 36 (168 A.C.)
Description & biography: Once promised to be wed to Rodrick, Alarra would instead become Rycann's lady wife. A daughter of house Umber, she is noticeably taller than Rycann and is known for her straightforwardness.
Robett "The Ravenskin" Bolton
Description & biography: The late lord father of Rycann, the Ravenskin was known for many things and only half of those may be true. There was one thing apparent about his lordship of the Dreadfort and it was how he seemingly knew everything that went on in his realm.
Thus, one of the most prominent rumours about Robett was that he was a skinchanger and observed his domain through the eyes of ravens.
Rodrick Bolton
Description & biography: Rycann's eldest brother and once heir-presumptive to the Dreadfort. By all accounts, he was a fine noble who had a bright future that was snuffed out.
Aden "Quickbolt" Bolton
Description & biography: Second son of the Ravenskin and brother to Rodrick and Rycann, Aden was a lordling who loved fighting in melees and attending tourneys. Eventually, he would travel east to carve out his own fortune. He was renowned for his fighting prowess, specially with a crossbow.
He would meet an unfortunate end while chasing down his foes on horseback, accidentally getting bucked off and cracking his skull on impact.
As the ending credits ran on the small laptop, ME sloppily lapped his ‘hands’ onto the device’s top and slammed it shut. There was no ill emotion behind the sudden act, simply a lack of fine motor controls (and likely a lack of said motors to begin with) that currently plagued the amoeba-on-steroids called ME.
”GREAT WOW BUT NO GOOD BAD. THIS INFORMATION OF STREAMED HAS BEEN MAKES ME FEEL LEFT AND RIGHT INSIDE.” ME commented, sharing his feelings on the piece of art with his fellow Titan.
The Titan that had accompanied ME in this ocular odyssey was left speechless for a few moments. Only after piecing together his thoughts did the prince begin to speak. “That… was the greatest live action media production I have witnessed since coming to the surface.” Granted, those were far and few between but it was still high praise. “Though, I’m somewhat disappointed the doctor never said those words the social media denizens were clamoring about. Did I somehow miss it while being enthralled by the visuals and story?”
“LIKELY. COMPUTOR WEB WILL BE GREAT IN BEING CORRECT.” The alien commented, his sludge-like body, oozing down a bit from his robotic carapace as he took a break from holding his form together. With a sudden jerk, his body became more cohesive again and placed the laptop in his beaten and battered backpack. His robot body was built to be brutalized but the measly human-made backpack was never meant for the wear and tear of a genuine temp and part-time superhero.
”ME INTENT PIRACY FOR NEXT FILM. YOU SUGGEST? ME SUGGEST MOVIE BEFORE THIS MOVIE. UMPIRE ATTACKER CONTRADICT HE IS UMPIRE AS WELL. COMPUTOR WEB READ.” ME then brought his two arms up to give what could be interpreted as two thumbs up.
The image of undersea raiders attacking the royal tax collectors manifested in Dragonson’s mind as ME mentioned pirating the next movie they would be watching. While the term didn’t make that much sense, context clues allowed him to make an educated guess with his response. “I'm certain the Sillan coffers won’t be missing the few sycees I'll use to purchase our next film. Though, what exactly is an umpire?" The term felt familiar but perhaps he was confusing it with the empires that had risen and fallen while the kingdom of Silla stood proud.
”BLITZ WITH UN-FUR, NON-MUSCLE, NO STAR-RADIATION. HOT.” ME explained, beginning to head for the door ”FEED WITH DINING TO REQUEST WITH ME?” ME said in a tone that could be interpreted as if he was asking a question the Sillian.
“Ah, I suppose it is time for supper… Or perhaps lunch? I’ve honestly lost track of time.” The lack of his personal servants attending to his every whim was quite the shock at first all those years ago when he first left for the surface, and even today Dragonson needs a nudge towards fulfilling menial tasks every now and then. As he stood up from his seat in order to get to their next destination, the rush of blood and the numbness of his legs were enough to cause a noticeable ache. “Damnation. I honestly do not understand how you surface folk deal with being weighed down… Perhaps I shall petition lord Cyborg for a water pool in my suite to counteract this sensation.”
”YOU PREACH TO ME WHO IS GROUP OF ZEALOT SINGERS. GREAT BAD AMOUNT OF WEIGHT TO EARTH.” ME commented in agreement, moving out of the room and dragging his backpack behind him. After leaving the room ME’s focus was immediately drawn to the speedster veteran mulling around the tower, messing about with his communicator. Everyone’s favorite martian made his way over to see what was going on.
Upon hearing the Flash mention the mall as the team’s destination for their next lesson, Dragonson’s curiosity had to be addressed. “Sir Flash, how are we to proceed towards the location? Personally, I would love to take an aero plane if one was available for use as I haven’t been to the sky yet.” The prince had assumed that this was a leisurely outing. After all, why else would anyone go to the mall when you can use delivery services for all your perishables and luxuries. Regardless, the pair were ready and raring to go though they were currently unaware of the threat that awaited for them.
"We tamed the seas and took tribute from the land during time immemorial. Defeating these super villains will be, as you say, a cat walk.
... What? Why would dessert be able to move?"
NAME Ahn Kwang-jo ALIAS Dragonson AGE 20, July 27 APPEARANCE ♆ Height: 165 cm ♆ Weight: 61 kg ♆ Hair Color: Black ♆ Eye Colors: Pale Azure, Crimson Red when powered
PERSONALITY ♆ Vigilant ♆ Amicable ♆ Proud
STATUS & MENTOR ♆ Full-time - Cyborg
EXPERIENCE As a member of the royal family of Silla, Dragonson was educated in many subjects befitting that of a prince which included aquamancy and swordfighting. The latter would be essential as he would inherit the magical blade of Tangun before departing for the surface world in order to join the Titans Academy. It is said to rend the skies and command the waves when mastered but for now it only acts as an amplifier for Dragonson's inherent magical powers.
With that said, Dragonson has no formal hero training and has only begun to learn the protocols that he is expected to follow.
POWERS ♆ Hydrokinesis - Able to control bodies of water through magic runes tattooed on his body, strengthened by his sword Tangun.
♆ Sillian Physiology- Just like that of an Atlantean, the Sillian body adapted to its deepwater environment and resulted in naturally heightened resilience.
♆ Amphibious - Not only is Dragonson able to breathe underwater and on land, he also travels faster when swimming compared to most non-sea dwellers.
♆ Aquatic Sovereign - Like the Aquaman, Dragonson can command the denizens of the sea though he can also summon them through water portals invoked by his magic.
WEAKNESSES ♆ Separation from the Sword - Without Tangun by his immediate vicinity, Dragonson's powers drop to that of a normal Sillian. While more remarkable than an average person's capabilities, its absence limits Dragonson to basic water manipulation.
♆ Lack of Water Sources- Without the presence of large bodies of water, the Dragonson cannot operate at full power either.
APPERANCE
BIOGRAPHY Long ago, the kingdoms of the seven seas had enjoyed a splendid peace that isolated them from conflicts that raged across the lands. However, it would only take a few years to change the course of their societies. Atlantis would be the first to re-establish contact with the outside world, as the new Aquaman to take the throne had been raised on the surface. The Atlanteans were quick to send diplomats to the royal courts of the other abyssal kingdoms in an effort to convince them to reintegrate with the world as new global threats started to emerge.
The underwater Kingdom of Silla, claiming dominion over the Yellow Sea to the Bering Strait, had found themselves in a peculiar position. Their former tributaries on the East Pacific lands had devolved into belligerent states armed with weapons capable of mass destruction. Popular discourse among the Sillian people fell into two camps: the militarists who clamoured for a strong army to defend them versus the anti-aggressionists who advocated for diplomatic and economic ties with their neighbours. To satisfy both camps, King Munmu of Silla had chosen to pursue a modernization and expansion of their army without explicitly declaring an intent for war while also sending his children on diplomatic missions to the surface.
Taking the name Ahn Kwang-jo, the first prince of Silla known as Dragonson was given the task to be the diplomat to the territory they once called Goguryeo at the age of 18. Nowadays, this state now calls itself the Democratic People's Republic of Korea. While he wasn't familiar with surface culture, Kwang-jo did find his experiences quite eerie. All of his tours across the state were curated and directed in such a way Kwang-jo only saw what his handlers wanted him to see.
Curiosity got the best of him. On an unsupervised escapade, he would use his powers to quickly travel on the waterways of the country and witness the true state of the population. Shocked and horrified, Kwang-jo would resign from his post and inform his people what he had witnessed. This would only intensify debates between the two factions, boiling over to riots across the kingdom. Action had to be taken and a compromise was eventually reached. Prince Dragonson would follow the steps of the Aquaman and spend time on the surface among their pantheon of heroes. He will eventually return with power and experience — choosing the destiny of his people when the time is right.
NOTES ♆ Met Cyborg on a highly publicized event sponsored by the U.N. ♆ Has attended royal galas in Atlantis as an official representative of his nation of Silla. ♆ Is a big fan of animation though often assumes that these are all historically accurate. ♆ Uses a glamour charm created by the Conservatory of Sorcery in Atlantis to hide his real identity when out in public.
SAMPLE POST The day had finally arrived. For weeks now, Atlantean and surface engineers had been hard at work collaborating with the royal architects of Silla in creating an airlocked dome that would allow the housing of foreign embassies, finalizing their integration to the international communities of the world. This momentous event was declared a holiday across the kingdom and the people were invited to witness the grand opening of the structure. King Munmu himself would attend though he would not be the one to give the royal ascendance and speech with regards to this achievement. Rolling out a device made of crystal and mithrilium, the foreign engineers would soon project a moving image of Silla's royal son in front of the crowd. Truly, the achievements of the outside world were quite the marvel to witness. The same could not be said of the prince's current state though. Though he was dressed in the majesty of his royal attire, the eyebags on his face were quite clear to those that witnessed the projection and his words would soon confirm just how tired he was.
"Loyal citizens of Silla! I thank you for your presence today in celebrating... this embassy opening!" The prince would take a momentary pause to regain his composure. Taking a deep breath before proceeding, he would expound about the wonders of the surface. "Uh, the surface world has quite the collection of luxuries and I would be remiss if I did not share them with you. In fact, I have spent the last few days constantly learning about their culture through these luxuries known as blue rays, completely unlike the manta rays of our domain. As such, I have asked the representatives of the Atlantean embassy to project an episode of this new media fascination of mine for the remaining time allotted to my speech. Glory to Silla!"
As the image of the prince dissipated, murmurs among the crowd started as they wondered what the prince had exactly meant. However, a new image replaced his royal highness. The crowd first fell to silence as a heavenly chorus began but this would eventually be followed by a cacophony of laughter as they witnessed the antics of this slob of a surface dweller seemingly afflicted with jaundice. Truly, this had to be the peak of surface comedy.
Oh y'know, making the most of the last couple of years like anyone haha. How about yourself?
Eh, largely the same though I did finish a 2nd bachelor's degree earlier this year. Would not recommend though.
Anyway, here he is
"We tamed the seas and took tribute from the land during time immemorial. Defeating these super villains will be, as you say, a cat walk.
... What? Why would dessert be able to move?"
NAME Ahn Kwang-jo ALIAS Dragonson AGE 20, July 27 APPEARANCE ♆ Height: 165 cm ♆ Weight: 61 kg ♆ Hair Color: Black ♆ Eye Colors: Pale Azure, Crimson Red when powered
PERSONALITY ♆ Vigilant ♆ Amicable ♆ Proud
STATUS & MENTOR ♆ Full-time - Cyborg
EXPERIENCE As a member of the royal family of Silla, Dragonson was educated in many subjects befitting that of a prince which included aquamancy and swordfighting. The latter would be essential as he would inherit the magical blade of Tangun before departing for the surface world in order to join the Titans Academy. It is said to rend the skies and command the waves when mastered but for now it only acts as an amplifier for Dragonson's inherent magical powers.
With that said, Dragonson has no formal hero training and has only begun to learn the protocols that he is expected to follow.
POWERS ♆ Hydrokinesis - Able to control bodies of water through magic runes tattooed on his body, strengthened by his sword Tangun.
♆ Sillian Physiology- Just like that of an Atlantean, the Sillian body adapted to its deepwater environment and resulted in naturally heightened resilience.
♆ Amphibious - Not only is Dragonson able to breathe underwater and on land, he also travels faster when swimming compared to most non-sea dwellers.
♆ Aquatic Sovereign - Like the Aquaman, Dragonson can command the denizens of the sea though he can also summon them through water portals invoked by his magic.
WEAKNESSES ♆ Separation from the Sword - Without Tangun by his immediate vicinity, Dragonson's powers drop to that of a normal Sillian. While more remarkable than an average person's capabilities, its absence limits Dragonson to basic water manipulation.
♆ Lack of Water Sources- Without the presence of large bodies of water, the Dragonson cannot operate at full power either.
APPERANCE
BIOGRAPHY Long ago, the kingdoms of the seven seas had enjoyed a splendid peace that isolated them from conflicts that raged across the lands. However, it would only take a few years to change the course of their societies. Atlantis would be the first to re-establish contact with the outside world, as the new Aquaman to take the throne had been raised on the surface. The Atlanteans were quick to send diplomats to the royal courts of the other abyssal kingdoms in an effort to convince them to reintegrate with the world as new global threats started to emerge.
The underwater Kingdom of Silla, claiming dominion over the Yellow Sea to the Bering Strait, had found themselves in a peculiar position. Their former tributaries on the East Pacific lands had devolved into belligerent states armed with weapons capable of mass destruction. Popular discourse among the Sillian people fell into two camps: the militarists who clamoured for a strong army to defend them versus the anti-aggressionists who advocated for diplomatic and economic ties with their neighbours. To satisfy both camps, King Munmu of Silla had chosen to pursue a modernization and expansion of their army without explicitly declaring an intent for war while also sending his children on diplomatic missions to the surface.
Taking the name Ahn Kwang-jo, the first prince of Silla known as Dragonson was given the task to be the diplomat to the territory they once called Goguryeo at the age of 18. Nowadays, this state now calls itself the Democratic People's Republic of Korea. While he wasn't familiar with surface culture, Kwang-jo did find his experiences quite eerie. All of his tours across the state were curated and directed in such a way Kwang-jo only saw what his handlers wanted him to see.
Curiosity got the best of him. On an unsupervised escapade, he would use his powers to quickly travel on the waterways of the country and witness the true state of the population. Shocked and horrified, Kwang-jo would resign from his post and inform his people what he had witnessed. This would only intensify debates between the two factions, boiling over to riots across the kingdom. Action had to be taken and a compromise was eventually reached. Prince Dragonson would follow the steps of the Aquaman and spend time on the surface among their pantheon of heroes. He will eventually return with power and experience — choosing the destiny of his people when the time is right.
NOTES ♆ Met Cyborg on a highly publicized event sponsored by the U.N. ♆ Has attended royal galas in Atlantis as an official representative of his nation of Silla. ♆ Is a big fan of animation though often assumes that these are all historically accurate.
SAMPLE POST The day had finally arrived. For weeks now, Atlantean and surface engineers had been hard at work collaborating with the royal architects of Silla in creating an airlocked dome that would allow the housing of foreign embassies, finalizing their integration to the international communities of the world. This momentous event was declared a holiday across the kingdom and the people were invited to witness the grand opening of the structure. King Munmu himself would attend though he would not be the one to give the royal ascendance and speech with regards to this achievement. Rolling out a device made of crystal and mithrilium, the foreign engineers would soon project a moving image of Silla's royal son in front of the crowd. Truly, the achievements of the outside world were quite the marvel to witness. The same could not be said of the prince's current state though. Though he was dressed in the majesty of his royal attire, the eyebags on his face were quite clear to those that witnessed the projection and his words would soon confirm just how tired he was.
"Loyal citizens of Silla! I thank you for your presence today in celebrating... this embassy opening!" The prince would take a momentary pause to regain his composure. Taking a deep breath before proceeding, he would expound about the wonders of the surface. "Uh, the surface world has quite the collection of luxuries and I would be remiss if I did not share them with you. In fact, I have spent the last few days constantly learning about their culture through these luxuries known as blue rays, completely unlike the manta rays of our domain. As such, I have asked the representatives of the Atlantean embassy to project an episode of this new media fascination of mine for the remaining time allotted to my speech. Glory to Silla!"
As the image of the prince dissipated, murmurs among the crowd started as they wondered what the prince had exactly meant. However, a new image replaced his royal highness. The crowd first fell to silence as a heavenly chorus began but this would eventually be followed by a cacophony of laughter as they witnessed the antics of this slob of a surface dweller seemingly afflicted with jaundice. Truly, this had to be the peak of surface comedy.
mickilennial
Simple Unicycle
Half Pint
rocketrobie2
Izurich
OwO
GubGar
