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D-Mode for Kengo is, at least at this stage of the game, pretty much uncontrollable. And by that I mean he can't just whip it out whenever he feels like it, and even when it does come up, he kinda loses control of himself while in it, essentially losing the ability to distinguish allies from enemies.
...This goes without saying, but please avoid using your knowledge of movie spoilers in character. Just thought I'd get that out of the way now before we proceed any further with Hans, especially since he's given absolutely no reason for anyone to be suspicious of him in he slightest.
Posted, and again I apologize for the slow response.
Jared shivered violently from the deadly cold he was feeling. For what seemed like ages, he felt like he couldn't move, instead just standing there like a shivering moron watching his new friends fighting for their lives against the Heartless. Why wasn't he acting? Why wasn't he doing anything about this? Was it the cold? Was it fear? Maybe it was both? In any case, as he stood there he suddenly heard a voice from his memories. The old man, Dion. He remembered something the old man had taught him long ago on Lunaris. Or rather, something he simply told him regarding his feelings.
Your heart can be your most powerful weapon lad," he'd said on that day some time ago in the past, "but your emotions will also betray you if allow it." Jared remembered asking what he meant by that, and got the following response, "It means that your passion can give you strength, but it can also be your downfall if you allow it to control you instead of the other way around." but how could he control that passion more easily, Jared had remembered asking. To this, he got another response, "Simple lad, just give it form. How do you think those wizard types cast their magic? They give their passion form and let it out in the form of their spells. You can do the same, if you tried hard enough. That's all there is to it. Give your passion form and let that be your weapon. Do this, and your victory will be all but assured."
"Give it form..." Jared muttered under his breath between shivers, "...I think I... finally get it... old man..." he stared at the Keyblade in his hand momentarily. He imagined what he currently felt: frustration, a bit of anger, and perhaps even a hint of fear. He imagined it welling up inside like like a distant thunderstorm. He widened his eyes at the inspiration. That was it! That was the form he would give his feelings, "...T-T-Thunder!" he shouted with a slight stutter due to his shakiness. When he did this, the Keyblade sparked with power and he held it straight up for all to see. When he did this, the sparks vanished and instead a series of lightning bolts struck all around him. The floating Heartless were all zapped, their ability to fly rendered useless against a thunderbolt from the sky and they were vaporized. Even the big one, tough as it was, felt the pain of a lightning bolt striking it's helmeted head like a lightning rod, the previous battle damage it had suffered was just barely enough for the bolt to finish it off. The Thunder spell that Jared had cast had effectively ended the fight.
"Hah..." Jared rasped, now feeling drained as well as freezing cold, "...g-good work guys. L-Looks like we... w-won..." his voice trailed and he suddenly collapsed in the snow. The sheer cold and his new-found fatigue from the spell having apparently been too much for him. Seeing this, the Prince rushed to him, placing his forefingers on Jared's neck to check his vitals.
"He's still alive," he said to everyone, then hurriedly motioned for two soldiers to pick him up, "but he won't be for long if he stays out here like this. Quickly, come inside everyone!"
Indoors, Jared was reclined in a chair by a fireplace, wrapped tightly in a thick wool blanket and his bare feet in a pail of warm water. When everyone was brought in and settled, the Prince addressed the newcomers, "I cannot thank you enough for your intervention. My name is Hans, thirteenth prince of the Southern Isles. Please, I would be honored to learn the names of my saviors."
Your heart can be your most powerful weapon lad," he'd said on that day some time ago in the past, "but your emotions will also betray you if allow it." Jared remembered asking what he meant by that, and got the following response, "It means that your passion can give you strength, but it can also be your downfall if you allow it to control you instead of the other way around." but how could he control that passion more easily, Jared had remembered asking. To this, he got another response, "Simple lad, just give it form. How do you think those wizard types cast their magic? They give their passion form and let it out in the form of their spells. You can do the same, if you tried hard enough. That's all there is to it. Give your passion form and let that be your weapon. Do this, and your victory will be all but assured."
"Give it form..." Jared muttered under his breath between shivers, "...I think I... finally get it... old man..." he stared at the Keyblade in his hand momentarily. He imagined what he currently felt: frustration, a bit of anger, and perhaps even a hint of fear. He imagined it welling up inside like like a distant thunderstorm. He widened his eyes at the inspiration. That was it! That was the form he would give his feelings, "...T-T-Thunder!" he shouted with a slight stutter due to his shakiness. When he did this, the Keyblade sparked with power and he held it straight up for all to see. When he did this, the sparks vanished and instead a series of lightning bolts struck all around him. The floating Heartless were all zapped, their ability to fly rendered useless against a thunderbolt from the sky and they were vaporized. Even the big one, tough as it was, felt the pain of a lightning bolt striking it's helmeted head like a lightning rod, the previous battle damage it had suffered was just barely enough for the bolt to finish it off. The Thunder spell that Jared had cast had effectively ended the fight.
"Hah..." Jared rasped, now feeling drained as well as freezing cold, "...g-good work guys. L-Looks like we... w-won..." his voice trailed and he suddenly collapsed in the snow. The sheer cold and his new-found fatigue from the spell having apparently been too much for him. Seeing this, the Prince rushed to him, placing his forefingers on Jared's neck to check his vitals.
"He's still alive," he said to everyone, then hurriedly motioned for two soldiers to pick him up, "but he won't be for long if he stays out here like this. Quickly, come inside everyone!"
Indoors, Jared was reclined in a chair by a fireplace, wrapped tightly in a thick wool blanket and his bare feet in a pail of warm water. When everyone was brought in and settled, the Prince addressed the newcomers, "I cannot thank you enough for your intervention. My name is Hans, thirteenth prince of the Southern Isles. Please, I would be honored to learn the names of my saviors."
He sat upright on his bed, Kengo's legs crossed and his hands resting on each knee. He kept his eyes firmly shut in deep concentration. The only sound he heard was the brisk morning breeze through his open window. He wore only his shorts that he slept in, and nothing else. For a few weeks now, he'd spent many late nights and early mornings attempting the same meditation his master and foster father employed. For years he watched him spend entire nights alone on his balcony, in hot or cold, and remaining in meditation the whole night through and still feeling well rested come morning. Since he was already excelling at his other training regimes, Kengo decided, it was only a matter of time before he would be taking his training to the next level. That time was not now, however, as so far he had succeeded only in nodding off to sleep during his attempted meditations. But Kengo was a determined sort, and this, like any exercise or technique he had ever had to work hard at, would be no exception.
Soon enough, though, a single knock on his door told him it was time to give up meditation for the time being as he heard his foster father's voice calling everyone for breakfast. For a moment, Kengo even considered skipping breakfast and continuing his attempts at meditation, but a timely growl from his stomach convinced him otherwise. He got up, shaking his head in disappointment at himself and got dressed in his casual attire. No sense in wearing armor to breakfast after all, and it wasn't like the keep was under threat of attack either. While dressing, he occasionally looked over at a small nightstand stable, where a board game sat that appeared to be in the middle of a game. The game in question was one Kengo learned from Lao, and it depicted a board divided into a grid, with several flat, wooden pieces identified by oriental markings placed strategically around one another. When he was finally dressed and about to leave, he approached board and, lightly tapping one of the wooden pieces he carefully slid forward a few spots in a diagonal direction, then smirked confidently at his imaginary opponent and said, "Hm, let's see you think your way out of that one, Nemesis." the nemesis he referred to was actually himself. Kengo had made it a common practice to make a move on the game each morning when he awoke and each night before sleeping, alternating which side of the board he played on for each move. During the time that passed between moves, he was almost sure to forget the exact move he made and thus the next one would be purely reactionary. This, he concluded, was the definitive way one would challenge themselves at a game of strategy, and thus was one of the many ways in which he trained his intellect.
The move made, Kengo exited his room and shuffled through the flow of the crowd to where breakfast was served. He got his share, and took his usual spot in a seat not far from the Master himself. This of course resulted in him overhearing the conversation between Victor and his foster father. While he remained silent, choosing not to inquire about a matter that could very well not concern him, he couldn't help but be curious at the same time. He usually made it his business to be aware of anything and everything going on at the bastion, at least as much as was allowed. After all, with complete awareness of one's surroundings, one can properly react to any and all scenarios that might present themselves. This business regarding priests and urgent news was something he was completely unaware of, and he found himself desiring all the more to learn what he could about it.
Finally, Kengo dared to speak, "Sounds important," he said plainly, being one of the few who openly addressed Master Lao in such an informal manner due to the nature of their relationship, "or maybe, dare I say, suspicious?"
Soon enough, though, a single knock on his door told him it was time to give up meditation for the time being as he heard his foster father's voice calling everyone for breakfast. For a moment, Kengo even considered skipping breakfast and continuing his attempts at meditation, but a timely growl from his stomach convinced him otherwise. He got up, shaking his head in disappointment at himself and got dressed in his casual attire. No sense in wearing armor to breakfast after all, and it wasn't like the keep was under threat of attack either. While dressing, he occasionally looked over at a small nightstand stable, where a board game sat that appeared to be in the middle of a game. The game in question was one Kengo learned from Lao, and it depicted a board divided into a grid, with several flat, wooden pieces identified by oriental markings placed strategically around one another. When he was finally dressed and about to leave, he approached board and, lightly tapping one of the wooden pieces he carefully slid forward a few spots in a diagonal direction, then smirked confidently at his imaginary opponent and said, "Hm, let's see you think your way out of that one, Nemesis." the nemesis he referred to was actually himself. Kengo had made it a common practice to make a move on the game each morning when he awoke and each night before sleeping, alternating which side of the board he played on for each move. During the time that passed between moves, he was almost sure to forget the exact move he made and thus the next one would be purely reactionary. This, he concluded, was the definitive way one would challenge themselves at a game of strategy, and thus was one of the many ways in which he trained his intellect.
The move made, Kengo exited his room and shuffled through the flow of the crowd to where breakfast was served. He got his share, and took his usual spot in a seat not far from the Master himself. This of course resulted in him overhearing the conversation between Victor and his foster father. While he remained silent, choosing not to inquire about a matter that could very well not concern him, he couldn't help but be curious at the same time. He usually made it his business to be aware of anything and everything going on at the bastion, at least as much as was allowed. After all, with complete awareness of one's surroundings, one can properly react to any and all scenarios that might present themselves. This business regarding priests and urgent news was something he was completely unaware of, and he found himself desiring all the more to learn what he could about it.
Finally, Kengo dared to speak, "Sounds important," he said plainly, being one of the few who openly addressed Master Lao in such an informal manner due to the nature of their relationship, "or maybe, dare I say, suspicious?"
1. Notre Dame
2. Notre Dame
and 3. Notre Dame
Did I mention I vote for Notre Dame? No but really...
1. Notre Dame
2. Black Cauldron
3. Atlantis
2. Notre Dame
and 3. Notre Dame
Did I mention I vote for Notre Dame? No but really...
1. Notre Dame
2. Black Cauldron
3. Atlantis
As am I, I've just had some real life things making it harder to post. I'll have something up soon, though, I promise.
Hmm, seems to be Sezir's turn a the minute. I'll PM them soon if they don't check in though.
Well, for starters how about I point out that you're clearly trying to start off as powerful as you can get away with?
Nothing wrong with that, but I was under the impression that the Apprentices would pretty much begin on an even playing field, whereas both your characters are clearly OP comparatively speaking. *shrug*
Oh well, Kurai and Wayward will give their judgement on it so feel free to disregard what I say.
Nothing wrong with that, but I was under the impression that the Apprentices would pretty much begin on an even playing field, whereas both your characters are clearly OP comparatively speaking. *shrug*
Oh well, Kurai and Wayward will give their judgement on it so feel free to disregard what I say.
Are crazy gimmicks really that necessary? Half-demons, now dragon people... whatever happened to this being about kids bashing disney characters with giant keys? <_<
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