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In DC Universe: Genesis - Justice For All → 6 yrs ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
K A I - R O
T A L E S F R O M T H E G R E E N L A N T E R N C O R P S
ACT I: AD ASTRA PER ASPERA
Part 3: “Al-x”

The young Tibetan’s eyes seemed even larger and more expressive than they already were.

Mouth agape, the black and green clad youth marveled at the landscape before him. It was a city unlike any he could have imagined. The violet hued sky above shimmered with sparks of green, as figures moved through the air as if propelled by the verdant light that radiated in streaks that vanished into the sky, or trailed through the streets of the alien cityscape.

A vine-like tendril looped around the child’s wrist, as the bulbous alien literally took the boy by the hand as the two emerged into this brave new world of Oa.

But for the guiding hand, the young monk would have walked into any number of people or objects along their path, as the child’s eyes marveled in sheer awe and wonder at the world in which he was being led.

“It’s really another world,” the boy uttered, the first time he had spoken since the two had left the room in which the monk had awoken. For that matter, the first time that he’d shut his jaw, which had been virtually dragging behind them at his surprise.

“There are many worlds, child.”

The voice in his head -- that is, the voice of the person who was talking to him without actually talking -- was named Apros. “Each is unique, though some may remind you of somewhere you’ve been. No one world is ever truly like another.”

From the street, the pair started up a winding stair that led them to a large structure that resembled the iconic form of the lantern sigil that the boy saw on the front of the strange attire that he was now garbed in. Variations of which seemed to reside on the clothing of everyone that they had encountered thus far.

“This is the Book of Oa,” Apros’ voice spoke, each word seeming to become Kai-Ro’s own thoughts. Entering inside, the walls seemed illuminated in green light, with all manner of shapes, sigils, icons, and other forms of writing tracing up and down the walls. “The repository of all knowledge that the Guardians of the Universe have shared with us.”

Craning his head around, the boy looked up at the tall, thin gourd. “The... guardians of the universe?”

“The architects of our future,” the voice replied. “Highly advanced lifeforms who seek to maintain harmony and balance among the various aliens that inhabit what you would think of as space. They created the ring that found you. Sent out among the stars to find rare individuals possessing extraordinary willpower.”

For some reason, that last statement seemed to trigger a memory for the boy. “It said that,” the young monk began, trailing off there as the recollection solidified for him. Finally, then, he turned his head back up as he recalled, “It said that I had the ability to overcome fear.”

“That is the first step.”

“The first step to what?”

Gilding the boy around the corner, Apros offered only, “For that question, I will leave you with a more appropriate companion.”

Confused, Kai-Ro turned his head and found himself staring at an alien who seemed roughly the same height and build as he was. He would have said that it was another kid his age, except this one had purple skin and pointed ears that seemed to stick out from the side of his head. And his eyes were large, almond shaped pools of pure white.

“This is Al-x,” Apros said, supplying the introduction as the vine at last unwrapped itself from around Kai-Ro’s hand.

Withdrawing from the two, the plant-like alien disappeared with a cryptic, “Al-x has waited to meet you for a long time.”

What was that supposed to mean? “Hi,” Kai-Ro said, turning his head back toward the other... boy? Maybe?

Did aliens even have genders like, well, people did? “I’m...” the monk began, though quickly found himself speechless as the purple kid leaned forward. Staring intently at him, the violet kid seemed to study him like a specimen of some kind “...uh...” Kai-Ro stammered, fumbling awkwardly, even as he took a step back away from the other kid.

“You look like a Graxian, except you’re the wrong color,” the purple kid stated flatly, slowly walking in a circle around the monk. Then, pausing back in front of Kai-Ro, noted “And, I’ve never seen a Graxian with brown colored eyes before.”

What was a Graxian? “I’m Tibetan,” the boy stated.

“Your planet is named Tibet?”

“Well, no,” Kai-Ro amended, fumbling for a moment. He wasn’t used to thinking in terms like this. “My planet is called Earth.” That really didn’t sound right. Was this how conversations in space went?

The purple kid’s head tilted to one side, an expression of what seemed like confusion apparent as he (?) asked, “So, you’re Earthian?”

“No, we’re humans.”

“But, you said you’re Tibetan?”

“I’m from Tibet,” Kai-Ro affirmed, with a nod.

“But you said you’re from Earth,” the purple kid quipped back.

“Tibet is a country on Earth,” Kai-Ro answered. Then paused there. “Well, it was a country on Earth. I guess I’m actually Chinese, except that’s, like, super offensive where I’m from.”

“Fascinating,” the purple kid uttered.

Seriously. What kid talked like that?

“You’re describing a system of division based on geo-political boundaries.”

Expressive brown eyes just blinked. “I’m..." Kai-Ro began. Then stopped. He blinked a second time. “...wait, what?” the monk asked, even as he tried to make sense out of what he’d just heard. “Are you really a kid?”

The purple kid’s head tilted over to the other side, as though contemplating this as a new question. “Are you?”

“I’m ten,” Kai-Ro stated.

“Ten?”

Yeah, ten. “Ten years old,” the monk clarified, pointing to himself and then gesturing toward the purple kid as he asked, “How old are you?”

“In order to have meaning, this ‘year’ requires a spatial or temporal context.”

These were words.

Kai-Ro understood that these were words. He even understood that these were words being spoken in what seemed like it was perfect Tibetan.

And he had no idea what any of these words meant.

Seemingly perplexed at his conversational companion’s speechlessness, Al-x touched a spot on the wall. As he did, the green light seemed to become malleable in his hands. Responding to his fingertips, soon there was a green construct of what seemed like an approximation of a planet and some writing in a script that Kai-Ro didn’t recognize.

“How did you do that?” the monk asked, in awe.

“What is a year, exactly?” Al-x asked.

“A year? Like, twelve months,” Kai-Ro said, though it likely sounded more a question. “Three hundred sixty-five days?”

“What is a day?”

“Like, one day to the next?” Kai-Ro responded, quite confused that the conversation had taken a turn for the, well, even more confusing. “Twenty-four hours, I guess?”

Consulting the various green icons, the purple kid gave a nod. “I think I understand now, your concept of time is connected to your planet of origin,” Al-x remarked finally. Glancing up, the purple kid stated, “You think in terms of orbital revolutions. Very well. If I understand your orbital mechanics, then I am one hundred and five of your years old.”

“One... what?” Did he just say one hundred and five?

“As for how I accessed this data, this is an archival data retrieval point for the Book of Oa,” Al-x noted, giving a wave of his hand. As he did, the planet and writing vanished. “You can use it, if you wish, to look up the relevant historical data regarding the Green Lanterns.”

“What’s a Green Lantern?”

“You,” Al-x answered. Then, amended, “Or, rather, you are a candidate. As am I.” Turning back toward the monk, the purple kid noted, “With your arrival, there remain two other candidates who will join us so that our training may commence.”

“Training?” Kai-Ro echoed. At some point, all of this was going to start making sense. Right? “Training for what?”

Tucking his (?) chin between the thumb and finger of one hand, Al-x seemed to ponder that question for a moment. Then, looking up, asked, “Does your planet have a concept of hierarchical governmental authority that is centrally controlled, but decentrally executed?”

Kai-Ro just blinked, again. “You keep using these words,” the Tibetan monk stated flatly. “I have... no idea what they mean.”

Re-phrasing the question, Al-x posed, “Are there authority figures on your planet whose role is the maintenance of society’s rules?”

It wasn’t a lot better than the first question. “Authority?” Kai-Ro echoed. “You mean, like, the police?”

“Policing?” Now it was Al-x’s turn to echo back a word. A slight nod, and a flicker of a smile -- as if what Kai-Ro had said was, in some way, funny. “A quaint societal mechanism,” the purple kid decided, finally, as he looked up and affirmed, “Yes, the police.”

Kai-Ro’s head went back. “Where I’m from, the police are the bad guys,” the child stated, in a surprisingly matter-of-fact tone.

Now, it was Al-x’s turn to be surprised. “You are an anarchist?” Then, the purple kid paused. “Or the product of a system of government oppression,” Al-x stated, amending his original theory with a few other snippets gleaned from the conversation. Turning back to Kai-Ro, the purple kid said, “Fascinating, but no. Green Lanterns seek to maintain peace and order among the various alien cultures which coexist. Like your Earth, space is also subject to many political boundaries that can be cause of conflict. And criminal elements may exceed the ability of any one planet to sufficiently address. These are the functions for which the Green Lanterns exist.”

The monk just gave a blank look, finally blinking before blurting out, “Are you really a kid?”

“I feel as though we have already addressed this,” Al-x stated crisply.

“I feel as though I have no idea what you’re talking about!”
In Final Fantasy Crystallum en Absentia → 6 yrs ago Forum: Casual Roleplay

[ Streets of Alexandria ] [ Nyan's Theme ]

The streets were said to be unforgiving.

The streets were the repository for the trash that was cast out by society, become the last refuge of the downtrodden and the damned. Oddly enough, the young kit had always found that the people living on the streets were often far more welcoming than those who held themselves as society's betters. Those were unmistakable fixtures in any city anywhere. People passing by, wearing clothes that cost more than any one of these beggars might see in a year, or even a lifetime, with noses upturned and their gazes diverted.

What an eye sore, that people might have such poor taste as to be poor in their presence.

To be completely honest, the young Miqo'te wasn't even certain from just what city he'd even arrived. He'd hopped from one merchant caravan to another on the road, passing through what had seemed like more of a trading post than an actual town, and then arrived at the gates only to discover that this was the storied Kingdom of Alexandria.

The white haired kit was resplendent in the finest cloak no money could buy -- stitched together from stained and discarded sackcloth. It was not much to look at. Neither, for that matter, was he. But it suited him well enough. Seated an upended, broken pull-cart, the boy's tunic was similarly the mark of a pauper, being a patch-work garment. The black tips of his ears were not the only dark marks, as soot and dirt clearly betrayed the fact that the youth had been traveling for a bit and not seen a bath in as many days. If not weeks.

As it had happened, the kit had stumbled upon a boy perhaps two summers younger than he, who had belonged to a family that was turned out on the street. While they hadn't had enough porridge for themselves, let alone to share, but they had broken bread with him. It was stale, with mold that had to be scraped off, but they'd shown him a baker in town who could be relied on to make available what he didn't sell.

The kit had an eye on several carts that seemed to be getting loaded. There were likely to be one or more caravans that would be departing for destinations unknown. The boy didn't know that he planned to stay in Alexandria long enough to appreciate the baker's stale gift to the city's poor, but it was still nice to know where there existed the option of a free meal. Even if one had to scrape the mold off it beforehand. That was certainly preferable to rummaging a meal from out of the rubbish piles, which the destitute were apt to due when all pride had left and there remained no alternative.

But, life was all about capitalizing on the alternatives.

And with a city this size, there were apt to be merchants of all manner. Who likely had things of value, which could get misplaced or otherwise become both lost and found. Yes, maybe before he had to leave the city, he'd have the opportunity to make a slight withdrawal.

After all, where he was going, it never hurt to have some capital.

...even if he had no idea just where he might be going.

Details. He'd figure it out when he got there. Wherever. Maybe even home to Bellas, though that seemed a more fleeting possibility the more he hopped from caravan to caravan.
In Final Fantasy Crystallum en Absentia → 6 yrs ago Forum: Casual Roleplay



Name
Nyan
Full name at birth O'nyan Tia ("o nyh'an"), though this is unknown to him.

Race
Miqo'te (Seeker of the Sun)

Age
12

Class
Thief

Place of Origin
Free Cities of Bellas

Personality
At first blush, Nyan appears no different than any other kit his age; usually presenting as an active, tactile youth who has difficulty with sitting still, inside voices, or quietly observing something. While it is true that he is a curious cat, and easily distracted, he's far more perceptive and intelligent than he leads others to believe.

Backstory
A free spirit, Nyan hails from the Gloriannas Coastal region of Atles. A bastard sired by an ousted nuhn, Nyan was abandoned by his tribe on the streets of one of the Free Cities. Adopted into roving gangs of street kids, the boy was brought up in a nomadic chaos that valued sharp wit, keen eyes, and sleight of hand. Most of all, he learned how to move unnoticed in a crowd, lightening the coin purses or lifting a loaf of bread from a merchant's stall before slipping away. His penchant for travel was not his original intention. On the run from the town guards for a minor misunderstanding regarding proper ownership of a piece of fruit, a brass gorget, and possibly a bone ring as well (who's counting?), the young Miqo'te stowed away among the cargo of a caravan that had departed for the road before he could disembark from his hiding spot.

Now, he's on his own. With only his wits and a pair of daggers, the young thief hopes to one day make it into the Hunter's Guild (or, at least, score a Guild Mark) so that he might be able to travel without the fear of being discovered as a stowaway, sneaking his way into or out of towns. But, in the meantime, it's not as though Altes has given him a lot of options.

In The Bounce House → 6 yrs ago Forum: Character Sheets
R O B I N
R O B I N

T H E B O Y W O N D E R
C H A R A C T E R P O R T R A I T
C H A R A C T E R P O R T R A I T
_________________________________________________________
_________________________________________________________
C H A R A C T E R S U M M A R Y
C H A R A C T E R S U M M A R Y
_________________________________________________________
Richard "Dick" Grayson
_________________________________________________________
10 | Foster Child
_________________________________________________________
Bat-Fam | American

N O T A B L E A B I L I T I E S & T O O L S
N O T A B L E A B I L I T I E S & T O O L S
_________________________________________________________
A L L I E S & A N T A G O N I S T S
A L L I E S & A N T A G O N I S T S
_________________________________________________________
P O S T C A T A L O G
P O S T C A T A L O G
_________________________________________________________
T H E S T O R Y S O F A R...
T H E S T O R Y S O F A R...
__________________________________________________________________________________

Eclipsed by the rise of flashier shows, such as Cirque du Soliel, Haly's Circus seemed doomed to follow Barnum & Bailey's departure as traditional circuses fell out of favor and entered obscurity. The Flying Graysons changed all of that, forming a renaissance era for the Big Top in the early 2000s. Dick was born about 10 years later, timed to coincide with a scheduled hiatus to update several acts. He grew up as a circus performer, tumbling and riding on a unicycle as a clown by the time he was 6 and becoming part of the Flying Grayson's act at the age of 8. The decision prompted mixed reactions, with Dick's performance being lauded while critics called for child exploitation and abuse investigations into the circus.

The criticism only seemed to fuel heightened interest in the circus, with Dick's addition to the high wire performance drawing record-busting crowds at Gotham City. Unfortunately, the media weren't the only ones to take note of the crowd, or the opportunity that the crowd represented. The Joker (Martha Wayne) seized the opportunity to terrorize Gotham, in an event dubbed the Haly Circus Massacre.

Orphaned, Dick entered in foster care in what is arguably the worst system in the United States. Media take-out seized on what seemed a sensational turn, however, when the reclusive Thomas Wayne took the boy in -- simultaneously hailed by gossip columns as a publicity stunt in poor taste or a demonstration to the world of how to make things right. That was a year ago. In the twelve months since, Dick has faced the loneliness of empty chairs at empty tables, dwarfed by a mansion whose master is rarely home.

The lack of interaction between Thomas and Dick began to change a little more than six months ago, as exploration by a sleepless Dick led to the inadvertent discovery of Thomas' double life as the Batman. That gave them something to talk about at the very least. Adopting the mantle of the classic hero, Robin Hood (stories of whom his parents had loved to tell him), the Boy Wonder emerged as a part-time sidekick to the Batman in the last several months.

While Gotham presents no shortage of threats not appropriate for Robin, there are enough harmless -- or relatively harmless -- nutjobs to allow the boy the same sort of therapy that Thomas has found, channeling rage into something that has the best chance of real change in a city under siege. In his short time in the cape, Dick stopped the Condiment King and help put Slugsy Kyle behind bars. The takedown of disgraced actor Burt Weston ended in the criminal's death, however. Raising the question of whether the Boy Wonder is just following Thomas' descent into Hell.

P L O T ( S ) & G O A L ( S )
P L O T ( S ) & G O A L ( S )
__________________________________________________________________________________

Saving the day, after homework and before bed time.

I gravitate toward sidekicks and nothing is more iconic than Batman & Robin, which I've only had the opportunity to write a handful of times. Other than drawing a good bit of inspiration from All-Star Batman & Robin in terms of how to approach Dick's trauma and view of the Batman, this is a very played-straight take on Dick Grayson. Gowi's vision for Batman also aligns with what I had been doing previously with Jason, focusing on smaller, more episodic type of stories rather than larger, interconnected arcs. Dick being a kid also allows me to dip into some of Batman's more wackier rogues and just have fun with those concepts.

As Dick is a very part-time vigilante, I'll be doing just as much exploration of Dick sans mask, with some Encyclopedia Brown meets Robin the Boy Wonder stories in mind for solo adventures either separate from Batman or intertwined in Batman stories for Dick's side of the story when he's logically in school and not swinging from the rooftops. But mostly, he's intended as a foil to Thomas Wayne.

Plus, the triumphant return of the Condiment King as a major villain. What's not to love?
Dick Grayson's Theme | Robin's Theme
All formatting originates via the work of Lord Wraith
In DC Universe: Genesis - Justice For All → 6 yrs ago Forum: Casual Roleplay


Obligatory Rebecca Black Reference


In DC Universe: Genesis - Justice For All → 6 yrs ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
K A I - R O
T A L E S F R O M T H E G R E E N L A N T E R N C O R P S
ACT I:AD ASTRA PER ASPERA
Part 2: “Oa”


He awoke with a start.

His breath seemed to catch in his throat. He bolted upright, head on a swivel, as the environment around him was alien. All around him were smooth, reflective surfaces. The light seemingly diffused as if through crystal.

This was not the Buddhist Monastery.

Shifting his legs, the boy slid down from the slab on which he had awoken. As he got his feet under him, he looked back and saw that the bed upon which he had been lying was an altar or table. Simple in form, but it glowed -- as though it were made of light itself.

As if to confirm the ethereal nature of that construction, the table of light seemed to flicker and dissolve. Sticking a hand out, the boy’s hand pawed at where, just a moment ago, a solid object had been there.

...and was then struck at the fact that his hand was in some kind of white glove. Looking over himself, the boy marveled at the fact that his body was clothed in something different from anything he had ever worn before. The gloves and boots were white, with the arms and legs black and the torso green. A circle on the chest seemed to contain a sigil or rune of some kind.

Glancing up, the boy caught his reflection in the crystalline walls of the spartan room. The logo on the chest seemed to stare back at him.

Had he... seen that symbol before?

“Do you remember how you got here?”

A voice.

...but, it wasn’t a voice?

Turning to his left, then circling around to his right, the child did a complete circle. His eyes scanned the room and found only his reflection staring back at him no matter which way he turned. The only other object was a...

...a plant?

Craning his head to one side, the child took a step closer to look at it. It was a pumpkin? On a vine? Did pumpkins grow on vines?

Being from the mountain of Tibet, he’d only seen them in photographs.

But, something in the back of his mind seemed to recognize that he was not alone. “Kham sang?” the child uttered, the Tibetan leaving his lips even before he could have stopped it. Then, he remembered, there had been police.

Was this a Chinese interrogation room? Switching to Mandarin, the boy then offered, “Ni hão?”

“I believe the polite phrase is ‘tashi dalek.’’”

It was as though Kai-Ro was wearing headphones. The voice seemed to speak directly into his head. Almost instinctively, the boy’s hands came up to either side of his head, as though to confirm that he wasn’t wearing ear buds.

At the same time, it confirmed the feeling that he was not alone.

“Yes,” the voice said, though Kai-Ro heard it in perfect Tibetan. “I am in this room with you.”

The boy’s head started to turn, before he instead stared down at the pumpkin-vine. His mind was wrestling with a question, which seemed to come to a singular conclusion.

“Good,” the voice uttered inside his mind. As it spoke, the pumpkin and its vines shifted, as the plant raised itself up in the air.

It drifted forward, toward him.

Kai-Ro took a step back, away from it.

“You accept the reality that there are things which exist, even if you do not know of them,” the voice in his head remarked, as the vines seemed to undulate and curl in mid-air. “Now, do you remember how you got here?”

“There was a light,” the boy recalled aloud. Pausing there, his eyes darted from side to side, as though he were questioning his memory even as he recalled, “...and a... ring?” Had that been where he’d seen this symbol before? “And... and I was flying?”

“Flying where?”

The boy pursed his lips. He opened his mouth to speak, then seemed to doubt himself. “There was all this black... and stars..?”

“It seems impossible doesn’t it?” the pumpkin-vine-being spoke inside the boy’s head. “And yet, you know that you are no longer on your planet.”

The boy’s head craned up sharply as the suggestion cut straight to the well of doubt that he had been wrestling subconsciously with. “This is another...” he began, stopping himself before he could say something...

...well, frankly, something stupid.

The fact that he was talking to a plant seemed to throw that notion out the window though. “...another world?” he uttered finally, the intonation making clear that it was as much a question as it had been a realization.

“This is Oa,” the voice stated, before adding, “Which is different than the planet that I am from. Like you, I was chosen by a ring and brought here.”

“Chosen,” the boy echoed, as the word seemed to resonate. Taken aback for a moment, the boy seemed to hesitate for several seconds of awkward silence before he finally asked, “Chosen for what?”

“That, my young monk, is the right question.”
In DC Universe: Genesis - Justice For All → 6 yrs ago Forum: Casual Roleplay


In DC Universe: Genesis - Justice For All → 6 yrs ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
K A I - R O
T A L E S F R O M T H E G R E E N L A N T E R N C O R P S
ACT I: AD ASTRA PER ASPERA
Part 1: “Kai-Ro”

T I B E T
EARTH | SECTOR 2814

The call to prayer came before the dawn.

It would be several hours before the sun rose, in fact. Dawn in the Tibetan mountains would come around 7 a.m. in this time of year. Which would be about four hours from now.

The boy woke atop a thin mat, laid out on the floor. The room was no more than a closet, with three children of similar age crowded into the shuttered space. As they stirred to wake, each picked up the red-orange cloth that had served as their sole bedding. Shifting and tucking it around their bodies revealed the reality that the sheet was, in fact, their clothing.

Bare feet padded from out of the cloistered confines, spilling out into a temple hall in which monks of varying ages had begun to mill about. The three boys made their way to the showers, to begin the day by first preparing their bodies. In times past, there would have been more of them. Child-monks, given to the monasteries by a cultural tradition in which one son of each Tibetan family was trained as a monk, but today they were less than a handful.

Banned. Prohibited, by the laws that had superimposed themselves on Tibet. As the boys made their way along the halls, the banners of China hung alongside images of Communist Party Leaders.

“Tayata om...”

The young monk paused. He was laboring at a churn, a traditional method of making the yak butter tea known in Tibet as po cha. As children, monk initiates were required to have a sponsor, who guided their education and their place in the monastic order. In his case, that sponsor was Monk Lhakpa, who was also in charge of the monastery’s kitchens.

“Tayata om bekanze...” the boy began, re-starting the attempt at recitation. Monk Lhakpa had been teaching him a new mantra, to help guide the meditative exercise for this morning. After they had finished preparing breakfast for the monks, in any case. Looking up from his butter churn, the boy seemed to pose a question as he uttered, “...bekanze razha?”

A solitary finger was raised, over at where the aging monk was preparing a large pot of porridge. “Bekanze maha, bekanze razha,” the elder monk stated, before adding the conclusion, “Samudgate soha.”

“Tayata om bekanze maha bekanze razha samudgate soha,” the boy recited, completing the mantra. When he had finished, he looked up at his teacher, as though for affirmation.

“Good,” Monk Lhakpa stated, eliciting an immediate smile from the child. Then, the solitary finger again returned to the air as the monk asked, “Now, what does it mean?”

The smile fell. A look of confusion played out across the youth’s face, as it was plain to see that the child was wrestling with any manner of thoughts or emotions, before finally looking up and stating, “But... you didn’t tell me what it means.”

“It’s not a recital, Kai-Ro,” the man quipped back, invoking the religious name that had been given to the boy when he had taken his first vows. As the man started to prepare the food to be served, he shifted his attention to the boy. Crossing over to the butter churn, the man began to decant the butter tea into a large kettle for service. As he did, he continued, “I didn’t ask what it means to me, I want to know what it means to you.”

The child’s head went back, his face betraying both irritation and surprise with such honesty that the monk couldn’t stop the laugh from reaching his lips.

“I don’t want you to answer now, but think on it,” Monk Lhakpa said, not bothering to suppress his own amusement at the boy’s theological quandary. Instead, pressing the heavy kettle into the boy’s spindly arms, the monk then touched the child’s head and commanded, “Go. Serve the tea. When you have finished, pray. Meditate on this mantra, then come back to me and give me your answer.”

For his part, Kai-Ro was conflicted. On the one hand, he had the distinct impression that he was being laughed at. On the other, he rather appreciated the head pat from the fatherly monk. That duality of conflict was plain as day on his face, as he lifted the kettle and said, “Yes, sir.”

With the large kettle in his arms, the boy shuffled barefoot from out of the kitchen. In the main hall of the temple, the monks had begun their prayers. Some meditating, a few reciting mantras aloud, while others prostrated themselves before the various iconography in the temple. Meditations upon mandalas, prayer wheels, or the different forms of the Buddha.

As he passed by, those who had their cups out were filled. Mostly, those were in groups that had begun their day with debate and discourse over the sacred and the profane. Mostly, the latter were talks of the Dalai Lama in exile and of the Chinese government’s reach into the monastic lives of Tibet’s cultural religion.

The reason why there were so few child-monks now was the fact that the practice was forbidden, as was education in Tibetan language. Kai-Ro had been smuggled into the temple and made criminal alongside the language that he spoke, and the teachings of his people that only existed in these walls and in the halls of those who had escaped from Tibet to live as exiles.

It was a topic that the boy would not claim to have any knowledge of. China had come to Tibet long before he had been born. And his earliest memories were of the monastery, making this criminal existence the only one that he had ever known.

“I’ve heard that the local party has finally appointed a loyalty director for the monastery.”

They were five monks around the table. All just of age to have taken their second set of vows. Twenty, or so, from what Kai-Ro knew. They spoke in conspiratorial whispers, even as the boy poured the tea for them.

“A permanent presence? Here?” another monk asked. In truth, China had begun planting permanent Communist Party overseers in the monasteries over the last several years. Theirs was one of the increasingly few that had remained under relatively lax monitoring. “How would we keep the...”

A third raised a hand, stopping the man short before he could finish his statement. Looking up, Kai-Ro was suddenly uncomfortable at the realization that everyone at the table was looking at him.

“...the Dalai Lama’s picture a secret?” the monk uttered finally.

It was a lie. They weren’t talking about his Holiness at all.

The first monk who had spoken reached over, lifting the tea kettle from out of the child’s hands and inspecting it. Handing it back, the monk said “Fetch more tea for us, Kai-Ro.”

Cradling the kettle in his arms, the boy stepped back even as he gave a respectful bow toward the table. Uncertainty gripped him as he started to wind his way back toward the kitchens. If the Chinese had a permanent Party representative in the temple, then where would he and the other child-monks go? How could they continue to live here.

As he crossed from out of the main temple structure and into the courtyard, he heard a sharp cry. The first rays of dawn had just started to appear in the sky, the fading twilight still dark enough that it was dim. Still, there was light enough to see the indistinct shapes of two men. And a third, smaller, that seemed to be struggling against them.

Bhuti cleaned the courtyard each morning, before dawn, so that he wasn’t seen.

A gasp froze in Kai-Ro’s throat. Grabbing the hem of his robe, the monk took off in a run toward the kitchens. Shadows in the window told him something was wrong before he made it there. A glimpse in the light of a blue-gray cloth.

The color of the police uniforms.

Dropping the kettle to the ground, the boy turned and sprinted back to the temple. Bursting through the door, the breathless child was met with confusion and aghast looks at the sudden interruption during the prayers. “P-police!” the child managed, between gulps of air.

In a moment, everyone snapped into motion. The picture of the Panchen Lama was put away, swapped instead for the image of the Chinese proxy installed as the Panchem Lama after the abduction of the child-monk that the Dalai Lama had ordained. A small image of the Dalai Lama was pressed into Kai-Ro’s hands, along with one of the Tibetan language texts that they used for study, as the child-monk was ushered along as the monks began preparing for the raid.

“You should be safe in your room,” one of the monks said, grabbing Kai-Ro by the shoulders and pressing him toward that wing of the monastery. “Go there now!”

Struggling to hold the hem of his robe, the texts, and the image of his Holiness, the boy stumbled as he tried to run through the temple. As he neared the steps that would take him up to the closet-like room, menacing shadows told him that the police had already entered on that side. Instead, the boy took a sharp turn, and found himself bolting out of the temple in an effort to avoid them.

Instead, he found himself on the temple steps.

And, below, on the landing was a row of police officers armored in riot gear.

His chest was tight, pain lancing through his lungs as he seemed to forget to breathe. Instead, he stood there. A boy in a saffron robe, holding an image of the Dalai Lama. A rebel and a seditious traitor in both being and appearance. As the police started up the steps, the boy found himself rooted in place.

He was done running away.

And he was done being afraid.

He was Tibetan. He was Buddhist. And the Dalai Lama was his guru. The language of Tibet was his language. If he was to be punished for this, then so be it.

It would not change who he was.

Holding onto the picture of the Dalai Lama, the texts written in the forbidden script of his culture shifting around in his arms, the young child-monk raised his head up high to regard the riot-armored police who advanced upon the child.

He could not change his fate, any more than he could change the Chinese control of Tibet. But he could choose to face it with eyes wide open.

That was when the light grabbed him.

It was an experience like none that the boy could have described. A sudden burst of green light. Penetrating him. Surrounding him. Before he was even aware of what was happening, the boy saw the advancing pair of police officers become small.

That was when he realized that he had, in fact, been catapulted into the air. He tried to keep his grip on the sacred texts and the image of his Holiness, but some slipped from his arms as he tried to maintain any sense of bearing.

It was then that the small jade object floated into view. A jade ring, emblazoned on the crest with the likeness of a lantern.


“KAI-RO OF EARTH, YOU HAVE THE ABILITY TO OVERCOME GREAT FEAR.”
In DC Universe: Genesis - Justice For All → 6 yrs ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
@Morden Man summed up my thoughts.

Friday.
In DC Universe: Genesis - Justice For All → 6 yrs ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
C H A R A C T E R C O N C E P T P R O P O S A L
K A I - R O

G R E E N L A N T E R N C A N D I D A T E 2 8 1 4 ♦ M O G O ♦ G R E E N L A N T E R N C O R P S
C H A R A C T E R C O N C E P T:


The rings of Oa are the most powerful weapons known to man. Across 3,600 mapped sectors of this galaxy, the rings of Oa enable the heroic agents of the Guardians of the Universe -- the Green Lantern Corps! As peacekeepers, these Green Lanterns come under attack by all manner of force, natural and man-made. Through hard won victory or bitter defeat, the Corps is continually planning to induct new members into its ranks to fill the void left by those who have gone before them. To that end, the rings are sent out to the cosmos to find those rare individuals possessing extraordinary will.

Unfortunately, now and again, a ring comes back on the hand of a kid who is maybe ten or twelve years old.

This is the story of how a boy from Earth came to wield the powers of Green Lantern. Drawing inspiration from Ender’s Game, the New Mutants, and Jonny Quest, this concept combines 50s pulp sci-fi adventures with slice of life elements in order to tell the story of the kids who might be the next generation of Green Lanterns.

C H A R A C T E R M O T I V A T I O N S & G O A L S:
I’ve written Kai-ro a few times before, but always cast him in the role of Hal Jordan. This eschews that approach for a different take that better uses my talent for world-building by using a concept capable of both sandboxing and collaboration across storylines/locations in our shared universe. The goal is to start with the story of how Kai-Ro became a Green Lantern candidate, transition into Alien-of-the-Episode type adventures, before unveiling a larger storyline at the conclusion of the initial story run.

C H A R A C T E R N O T E S:
The following are characters, concepts, or organizations in use with this story:

• Al-x: An alien from Sector 0424, who has a Greys-like appearance. He is 104 years old, but young for his species. Strategic and analytical, but hesitant to act without all the information.

• Arisia Rrab: A young Graxosian, with golden hued skin and hair, as well as pointed ears. Hot-blooded and precocious, she often acts without thinking.

• B’dg: A diminutive H’lven, with a squirrel-like appearance. What he lacks in size or strength, he makes up for with a large personality.

• Alisand’r: A Green Lantern from the planet Tamaran, the chosen instructor for the current class of Green Lantern cadets.

• Ganthet of Oa: One of the Guardians of the Galaxy, who has adopted the role of overseer to the Green Lanterns training program and mentor to the young cadets.

• The Planet Mogo: The headquarters of the Green Lanterns cadet training program, and also secretly one of the Green Lanterns most secret weapons -- a sentient planet who is, itself, a Green Lantern.

• The Spider Guild: An insectoid race of spiders that have spread across the galaxy, preying on the worlds that they conquer.

• The Reach (background mention only): An interstellar empire that assimilates other planets into its collective through careful political manuevering and subterfuge, subjugating the populace only after its collaborators and sleeper agents have established control over the populace. Rebellions are usually bloody and short.

• The Manhunters: The precursor to the modern day Green Lantern Corps, robotic peacekeepers created by the Guardians of the Galaxy and empowered to preserve order in the galaxy. Unfortunately, the Manhunters determined that organic life was a threat to order and massacred the planet Ryut before the Guardians could put a stop to them.

• Tybalt Bak’sar: An intergalactic bounty hunter who wields anti-Green Lantern weaponry.

S A M P L E P O S T:

P O S T C A T A L O G:
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