@Euphonium Thanks for the feedback, its much appreciated! I reduced the image by 30%, which is hopefully enough. Didn't realize the font meme was broken as I guess the image was still in cache on my computer, so I've moved it to an image host for the moment.
As for the overlap: I fully understand. I had looked at @LordVoldemort's character but it somehow it completely fell out of my mind while writing my CS up. I'm willing to rework the background from an injury to something else (say performance anxiety or his temper causing him to get a ban?). This goes doubly so if the player in question feels like I might be robbing their character of a fun element to explore.
The only thing I want to preserve is the dream of going to the Olympics in 2020 in Karate. If only because its both culturally important and an extremely rare opportunity for practitioners (Karate is weirdly not a normal Olympic event.)
Competition Karate-A year ago, Shun was a pretty serious competitor in the Cadet 63 Kg Kumite scene. Good enough that there was a possibility that he could have attended the 17th Asia Cadet, Junior and U-21 Championship. However, an accident outside of training left him unable to compete and he's all but abandoned the sport.
Occupation
Unemployed.
Characterization
Physical Description
Despite how bad its been, the last year has been pretty good for Shun growth wise. At 184 Cm and 75 Kg he cuts and intimidating figure, at times perhaps looking a little older than most kids his age. A strict training and diet regiment keeps in impressive physical condition, though he'd admit this is more out of habit than anything else.
His hair is never brushed, a loose mop of brown that remains (mostly) tangle free by sheer force of will and frequent haircuts alone. He isn't much for high fashion, so outside of school his wardrobe largely consists of jeans, T-shirts, or the occasional nice sweater when some sense of formality is required.
Personality Traits
Shun is a deeply frustrated person at the moment, which unfortunately makes him deeply frustrating to be around. He is abrasive, blunt, and casually disrespectful to pretty much anything with a pulse, but students who are particularly successful in sports clubs are lightening rods for this behavior. He is somewhat more neutral to those who prefer less physically active hobbies, though can still be prone to rude or dismissive comments.
Despite his roughness, you'd be hard pressed to find someone more personally disciplined than him. If Shun decides something is to be done, it gets done even if he has to work himself to death to do it. Failure of any sort terrifies Shun, not that he would ever admit this. He is the first in line to beat himself up over any little mistake, sometimes he's the ONLY person in that line. And while an actual apology is never going to happen, if Shun feels he owes you something you're getting paid back in spades. And god help you if you feel like he doesn't owe you anything.
He recently discovered he is a fan of quote 'nerdy crap' like role playing games and fantasy novels. Particularly anything with a hard boiled detective type or characters of similar disposition. He would sooner die in a house fire than freely admit this to anyone.
Likes & Dislikes
Likes
• Dogs • Detective Movies • Table Top RPGs (Favoring Monk-like Classes...of course.) • Competitive Martial Arts • Flower Arrangement • Spicy Food • Mathematics
Disikes • Sweet Food • Quitting • Stairs • Himself • Pretty much every able bodied person in this room.
Home Life
Shun spent a great deal of his early life living in small crapped apartments with his mother, Kunimitsu Ai. To put it indelicately, Ai had been a party girl when she was a teenager and Shun was an unplanned wake up call. As such, Shun really has no clue who his biological father is and isn't about to ask for a list of suspects.
Ai worked hard to give Shun as stable a life as she could manage, working whatever menial job she could get her hands on. The downside being that Shun spent much of his time out of school at a local dojo that a friend of his mother's worked at. At first, his attendance was really nothing more than glorified free babysitting, the Kancho Ito Daichi being too soft hearted not to give Ai a break. The fact that new students would be absolutely befuddled by the sight of a toddler haphazardly attempting to mimic their teachers kata was also a plus.
But, by the time he was ten Shun was more or less a full fledged student and was technically proficient enough to keep up with students three time his age. But, being ten, he really couldn't spar with most of the other students who...you know. Actually WERE three times his age, and thus much stronger. So when Daichi suggested he try a local youth competition, Shun jumped at the chance.
Shun wishes he could say he dominated, but that would be a lie. He came 30th out of the whole showing, but the sheer joy he felt from sparring with someone on equal footing lit a fire in him. Training before had been a silly past time while he waited for his mom to pick him up after work, now it was just...more.
The next two years saw more competitions, Shun steadily raising in the rankings each time until he was placing in the top three consistently. Sure, it was the youth league and all, but it was the center of his universe and for four or five times a year he felt truly alive!
It was around this time his mother met his eventual step father, Tosaka Yoshi. Tosaka was a marginally successful pediatrician who sometimes donated his time volunteering as onsite medical services for various sporting competitions, mostly as an excuse to watch his daughter's, Yuki, track events. His wife had passed away early in Yuki's life and the two families rather happily winning each other over. Yuki in particular being rather happy to have a little brother to dote on, even if she was only two years older. Not that Shun would complain, being a little starved for familial affection since his mom worked all the time. Shun was barely thirteen when the two finally decided to marry, though truthfully it was far more a formality than anything else.
The next year was without a singular doubt the happiest year of Shun's life. They moved into a modest home which quickly became a monument to the kids various sporting accomplishments, the greatest of which being Yuki getting offered a chance to participate in a scouting camp for the 2020 Olympic games! A fact she would tease her little brother about to no small degree.
There was zero down in Shun's mind Yuki would eventually make the cut and join Japan's Track team (50m Sprint if he was forced to take a guess) and he was NOT about to be the only kid in the family not to go. So Shun knuckled down on his training like never before, aiming to represent Japan in the 67kg Kumite division come hell or high water.
Motivated by sibling pettiness, Shun began a winning streak like nothing he'd managed before. Any JKF (Japan Karate Federation) Event he could attend, he did, and he tore through it like a hurricane. The only thing holding him back was his mom's requirement he keep his grades up to compete. But a few sleepless nights of studying and make up tests were a small price to pay.
Then the whole world went to shit and he got injured. While leaving a tournament a poorly maintained concrete step gave way underneath him and sent him tumbling down a few steps before his leg cracked against the hand rail. The terror of what happened hit long before the pain ever have.
Leg injuries are a death sentence to any athlete, Period. And while Shun wasn't exactly a medical professional, he knew a bad break when he saw one.
He doesn't remember what happened next, but the next time he was conscious of his surroundings he was in the hospital. After a brief but intense panic attack, he managed to get his step-dad to explain what had happened and immediately felt infinitely worse. The bone was shattered a few inches above the ankle, the doctor calling it a comminuted fracture and suggesting and ORIF. Essentially, they'd screwed, bolted and hammered what remained of his tibia into something vaguely resembling what it was before. When Shun finally managed to ask how long it would take before they could remove all the things they put in him he received no answer.
The next few months crushed what little optimism remained in Shun after that, the young man able to do very little beyond attend school and do his physical therapy. His mood soured from being immobile for so long; the gentle teasing of his step sister or the general goofiness of Yoshi doing little to help and sometimes wearing his patience thin, though tempers rarely rose too high. He mostly just tried to avoid them and his mom; their attempts at pretending things were still the same growing increasingly irritating and their concern just making him feel helpless. During this time, he filled what hours he could with browsing whatever he could on the internet. Fantasy series (especially bad ones) seemed to work the best to keep his mind off of things, he even joined a text based role play site for a while but was banned for poor behavior.
When it finally came off eight months later though, Shun finally broke. His range of motion in his left ankle wasn't even a tenth of what it used to be. He could walk and run just fine, but as it stood he'd be lucky to break the top ten at even the most amateur of tournaments. The helplessness he had felt over the last few months finally boiling over into a bitter fury.
Arguments became a weekly event in the Tosaka-Kunimitsu house hold shortly there after, eventually evolving into almost daily events. Yuki got the worst of it, the two siblings being barely able to exchange more then three words with screaming themselves hoarse. After four months of this, a consensus was reached. Shun wasn't going to get better, not here in Tokyo anyway. So they could all be miserable together and get through this as a family, or Shun could leave.
Surprising no one, the three had Shun's bags packed and a taxi ready for him by the time he got home from school that day. He stopped only to get an explanation of where he was going before leaving, not needing to be convinced that he'd be better off anywhere else.
Shun currently lives with his step uncle and aunt, both of whom are spared from his ire by virtue of the trio doing everything in their power to avoid each other. His mom, step father and step-sister all live in Tokyo. This arrangement is mostly an experiment by his parents to see if getting some distance from his home town (and, more pressingly, his sister flourishing track career) will mellow out his anger issues. Neither side is particularly optimistic about the results will be.
Personal Motivation
He wants to compete at the Olympic level in martial arts. Failing that, he wants ANYTHING that could fill that void in his life. He isn't sure if he wants to be able to be with his family again, there is a lot of anger and resentment on both sides there. Some of it undeserved, a lot of it not if you ask him. But...it would be nice just to be calm around them again.
Miscellaneous
Relationships
None. That is probably for the best.
Belongings & Inventory
He keeps his smart phone and wallet on him and little else. His uncle lets him use his old bike to get around town. He keeps a laptop at ‘home’ that is filled with pirated PDFs for tabletop games and write ups for character ideas in those systems. Never find these things if you value your life.
Other Information
While his vision is mostly fine, Shun does need his glasses for reading text and seeing far distances at full clarity.
When it is very cold outside, the fixtures in Shun's leg feel uncomfortable and cause him to limp slightly.
For those who carefully observe Shun, they will notice that every Wednesday he makes a point to have salty or fatty junk foods. This is his diet's cheat day.
All right. Grumpy former Karate champ is done. Please let me know if there are any concerns or suggestions you guys have to improve on the CS.
Hey all, don't suppose you've room for one more male character? I've got an idea for a former competition Karate student who would just love to come in and break a leg. Probably his own. Again!
Name: Kaili Brand Age: 17 Class: Jedi Service Corps Technician (Specialization: Star ship maintenance and repair) Home Planet: Naboo _________________ Appearance: At five foot two and one hundred and twenty seven pounds there is no escaping that Kaili is...small. Rail thin and all limbs, even the most diminutive races would be hard pressed to call the youth intimidating. Years of spending most of his waking hours tinkering or meditating in the temple have left his skin chalky white, sans for the occasional grease stain smearing his face. A mop of long black hair shades over icy blue eyes, which are normally cast firmly down towards the floor.
In terms of clothes, as he no longer holds any hope for passing his trials, Kaili tends to avoid the more traditional garb of the Jedi. In place of lose fitting earthen toned robes are plain blue coveralls, stained brown to black in places and fraying near his ankles and sleeves wrapped tightly around his waist as a makeshift belt, and a plain black shirt covered by a flight jacket that is perhaps a size or four to big on the techie. A small thin blue crystal hangs around his neck at all times, the last piece of a lightsaber he had.
History: There is shockingly little Kaili remembers of Naboo. The name itself lends itself to the musky stench of swamp water, rotting vegetation, and the taste of spiced meats that warmed the lungs as you breathed out. But beyond these vague sensory memories, there is nothing. He is sure he has parents, though what their names are or were they lived (if they still lived at all) he has never bothered to learn. Being a youngling at his temple was...really the only thing he COULD remember.
His time as an initiate was little to write to the masters about. He progressed slowly but surely, as most do. His mind at first clumsily flailing at the force, bumping into the ocean of energy that surrounded him like a belly flopping beast of burden in a kiddy pool. But by thirteen he could dip into its vast waters as gracefully and easily, the once churning briny seemingly endless depth of...everything now settling comfortably like an ankle deep stream in all directions.
Frankly, it was an almost idyllic setting to grow up in, though he did occasionally get into small amounts of trouble. Particularly when he would hack the hologame board to receive holovids that were, and quote, “Absolutely not appropriate even if you WERE NOT Jedi Youglings”. But a certain amount of mischief was probably expected from any growing boy, force sensitive or not.
He was excited when he had the opportunity to take his trail and become a Padawan. To excited, as it turned out. He stumbled over the questions of philosophy, and his saber work was sporadic at its best. The number of things the poor masters who were forced to correct would have been embarrassing, if not for the fact they had done so as gently as possible and with an ever encouraging soft grin.
Master Farr Noncoma was the first to suggest the JSC Repair Wing to the aspiring Jedi, a temporary solution he had assured at the time. It was supposed to help him find his focus, and further let the boys enthusiasm for tinkering grow (that it would reduce the considerable amount of holo-game boards they would need to replace was also brought up, albeit teasingly).
And to be entirely fair to the aged Rodian, the two years Kaili spent there had helped. He was less easily distracted, matured from the excitable youngling to a still excitable (if somewhat more restrained) proper initiate. One who could break apart and fix a star ship engine in under six hours with an eagerness that would shame most veteran mechanics, sure, but a proper initiate none the less.
The second attempt at his trails had started infinitely smoother. Questions about the Jedi code and its application flowed easily, well practiced by the months spent reciting them in the crapped maintenance ducts of Republic vessels. Lightsaber demonstration went well, though with the small hiccup as he stumbled the first few steps, shyly explaining the training saber was far lighter than the Hydrospanner he had been using. Noncoma had laughed at that far harder than she probably should have.
Were things went wildly off the rails was the practical exam. It was the one thing that he had not failed in his first attempt, even if that was only due to him not making it that far the first time. Noncoma assured him he would do well, though even he could feel the faint twinge of nervousness the elder Jedi had.
It was supposed to be an easy job, and for a real Jedi Padawan, it probably would have been. His masters had received a call of a hostage situation, and Kaili was meant to act in tandem with the local peace keeping force’s negotiator to help defuse the situation, with a saber as an added measure of safety should the worse come. An ex-mechanic at a local Speeder shop had apparently become to strung out on his spice and had been fired. After a few weeks, he’d returned to the shop with blaster in tow, taking his replacement as hostage.
Kaili wishes he could remember what their initial reactions were as he slowly stepped into the garage, his nose filling with the relaxing mixed scents of coolant and oil. If he had to wager, the Ex-mechanic, a Bothan he would later learn was named R’yo, was probably mixed between drug addled confusion and panic as the situation and its severity began to dawn on his now slowly clearing mind. The Twi’lek, Rey’Lan, was probably just between panic and more panic. Being held at blaster point and your only hope being a magic toddler and his deputized babysitter kind of did that, even to the most level headed of people.
The four of them talked for hours, the negotiator handling the official questions with Kaili stepping in with his own small ones, typically ones related to their work or technical issues he’d faced himself. R’yo seemed to cling to those questions like an anchor, the familiar technobabble rolling off his tongue and calming his nerves as his brain slowly cleared itself. Rey’lan would even occasionally give a biting, if polite, quip of her own whenever Kaili or R’yo would suggest a fix or patch job that they were CLEARLY over complicating.
By the time the negotiator whispered to him that the strike team was in position to secure R’yo, Kaili had learned more about the two mechanics than he thought possible. R’yo had been married once, before the spice had taken that too. Rey’lan had a son his age, Kol’th, who she swore had a girlfriend he refused to talk about. The negotiator had suggested she have her husband talk to the boy about that to which R’yo laughed that would never work before becoming darkly quiet. Kaili had been forced to change the subject very quickly after that.
But the strike team...it was too much. He could feel the force screaming at him to tell the negotiator to back away. R’yo was as beautiful, panicked, kind and furious as the Twi’lek in his choke hold. Kaili could feel the man’s fog lift, and he only needed a few more hours to clear it away. But he said nothing, nodding softly at his negotiator as he turned to the Bothan.
R’yo had taken the request to letting Rey’lan go so easily, an arm sliding away from her neck with a jagged arc before limply resting at his side. A soft weary half sob escaping him as the Twi’lek rushed past Kaili, the Bothans final defeated words of ‘ok’ ringing in the initiates ears sounding far louder than it should have had any right to be.
Then the roof exploded.
R’yo had jerked his blaster pistol up, only barely visible as the duracrete mist of the former roof engulfed him. Kaili’s lightsaber had hit his palm before he even had the consciousness of mind to summon it. The muffled ‘pew’ of fire, a sound that Kaili once found to be laughable, rung through the air with sickening weight; undercut by the hiss of his lightsaber’s magnetic field slapping against the clumsily placed shot and returning it.
The Force muted itself around Kaili. The negotiators words a hushed distant whisper that only registered physically as he stared a R’yo. Very much dead. Very much dead because HE had failed to think for even the tenth of a second it had taken. He had struck him in the neck, the wound a through and through, glaring a black and ember red charred eye at Kaili.
Explaining the situation to his masters had hurt. They said nothing as he recounted the evening slowly, pausing as wave after wave of regret and anger at himself crashed through him. He did not need to read their minds to know he had failed, R’yo had told him that already.
Master Nomcoma had welcomed him back to the JSC three days after that, her voice low and as warm as she could manage. Kaili ignored it, setting to work almost immediately to begin his punishment. The Masters never said it was, Noncoma even assuring him it was not when they reached their agreement, but Kaili wished they would just admit it was.
Recovering from that night had taken almost a year of near continuous work. Kaili would wager he’d fixed thousands of ships in that time, though he could name none of them. His lightsaber had not survived the first month, Kaili having bashing the wretched thing with a hydrospanner until it bent and snapped. He saved the crystal, but flung the rest into the nearest incinerator and stared into the open flames until he managed to calm himself enough to return to his room.
Others in the JSC tried to help, but he would always shut them out whenever they came to close. Burying his thoughts deep in his mind and erecting walls around it until they stopped noticing. It..It was better this way. His work calmed his mind and, so long as he avoided Noncoma like so much blaster fire, no one attempted to know him.
Two months ago she had asked if he wish to take the trials again, offhandedly. Two months of not seeing the Rodian was probably the harshest no she’d ever been given, but Kaili was pretty sure she would get over it. There is no emotion, after all.
Personality: Kaili is timid and, at the best of times, wholly unsure of himself. Any situation which does not fall well within his mastery of quote 'technological distractions’ is met with an awkward stuttering attempt to excuse himself to find someone more qualified. This is meekness is especially strong when dealing with any sort of high stress negotiation, as its a palpable reminder of his failure during his second initiates trial. He would argue that this is not out of fear (rather stubbornly in fact), though after many many discussions with fellow Jedi(...well, ACTUAL Jedi and himself to be more clear) he had resigned himself to simply throwing as many mental barriers around his emotions as he could at all times. If only to avoid a conversation that he knew would only serve to distract and frustrate everyone involved.
However, all of this goes out of the window once the boy gets a hold of some sort of technical problem. There is no greater joy to him than fiddling with a long abandoned hyperdrive until it finally sputters to life, and no amount of meditation could replace the calming peace brought to him as he skims through line upon line of computer code. Technology just...spoke to him, sometimes literally, if he were in such a mood to allow The Force to flow through him more fully (rare, but it happened at times). If he were in an exceptional mood, he became a neigh unstoppable force of repair. Tools would flit to hands faster and more comfortably than any lightsaber could hope to and broken parts would be replaced with substitutions that only made sense to him many days after they’d been implemented. If a knights place is at the front lines protecting innocent people from bulwarks of darkness, and a consular place was mediating calmly among a thousand contrasting voices, then Kaili’s place was bent over Inertial Dampener system trying to divine which of a billion wires was responsible for a short circuit. ...He just wished it wasn’t some days.
_________________ Equipment: M296 Heavy Blaster Pistol, Custom: A relic of a blaster if there ever was one. But it has been a pet project for Kaili for the better part of a year. The internals had to be stripped almost entirely, replaced with newer variants or custom parts he tooled himself. The barrel had been rusted through and it took him almost four months to finally hunt down the old design documents to make a new one. He wish he had more time to work on the firing mechanisms a little more though...its rate of fire was a few shots too slow compared to its more modern brothers. Still, its the only tool Kaili really trusts himself with in a fight these days.
Tool Bag: A small back pack filled with various tools and small replacement parts for both his blaster and various star ship systems. Nothing of particular worth in here, unless you fancy several dozen feet of wire with more guages than there ought to be.
Skills:
Force Concealment: While largely putting his force training out of his mind, Kaili does have some mild proficiency in force concealment, able to shield his emotions and surface thoughts from the passive gaze of most fellow Jedi. Any deep scrutiny will probably be able to strip away these defenses, but for what he uses them for they are sufficient.
Lightsaber Proficiency: While its been nearly two years since he's even picked up a lightsaber, Kaili does occasionally find himself mentally running through the sequences of Soresu and Niman. This is more mental exercise however, and even the most generous of masters would be hesitate to call him a ‘novice’.
Starship Maintenance and Repair: If it flys, he can fix it. If it cant fly, he can MAKE it fly. Let it not be said the JSC Starship Devision were not good at their jobs. ____________ Misc: Heyo, know the application window has already closed but I felt sort of inspired by the stuff you all have put up. Decided to play around with an idea and it eventually turned into a CS. Ya’ll feel free to use this kid as a background character or group NPC if you want. Given his backstory and the amount of Jedi in the group, makes a small amount of sense a member of their Service group would show up. Also something potentially fun for the dark side players if they wish to corrupt someone through their fear.
On a lore note: I always found the JSC to be kind of a intensely fascinating element of the Jedi Order lore. While much of what we see of it (what little there is) paints this sub-sect of Jedi in a very positive light, I can easily see it having an intensely negative connotation for initiates who failed their trials (possibly even seeing it as a ‘punishment’ for failure or weakness). I imagine it takes a great deal of guidance from older JSC members and Jedi involved in its day to day operations for a youngling recently assigned to it to see the greater importance of these auxiliary groups.
Also, please feel free to correct me if the JSC is not established at this point in the canon. I am pretty sure it is, from my cursory rereading of Wookiepedia, but I could always be wrong.
”That seems unfair...” Naji pouted as Ash cast her gaze to the goblin corpse pile, obviously offended at the accusation of his clearly refined tastes. ”Eyes are nutrition and flavor dense. Second only to tongues.” He added from his perch atop Ash, but pushed it no further. If they ever got out of here, he’d have to get together some ingredients and see if he could replicate his mothers fish stew. If good old fashioned experiance had not taught these people the value of good meat, then being lured in with roasted fish in gravy with potatoes and other mixed veggies would.
A lull of silence fell over the group as they headed towards Ash’s camp, Naji silently taking the time to figure out how to navigate the menu. Firstly putting two points into iron gullet and putting the rest into Minor heal 1. With that out of the way, he tried to pull up any sort of options menu, somewhat hoping to find anything that could be called a language setting before giving up with a grumble.
The camp smelt of ash (the noun, not the pronoun he thought with a small chuckle) and faintly of Ash (Now the pronoun, not the noun)’s own lizardy....musk for lack of a better word. He hops off of Ash’s back with a dainty huff as the lizard settled into the small circle of dirt that comprised her sleeping quarters. He couldn’t stop himself from looking over the coals of the dying fire, sniffing experimentally at them. Acrid, woody, and the faint hue of burnt mold or lichen hit his nose. No good for hookahs, he noted almost automatically though he wasn’t sure why he even bothered checking. The likelyhood of anyone HAVING coconuts down here was slim enough that the idea of anyone burning their husks should have just been assumed to be impossible. Still, the smell of warmed over carbon drifting through the air was strangely comforting. All they needed now was the wafting tones of mint, mixed fruits, and cardamom and this cave would smell just like home.
Ash’s order for him to keep an eye on Colchian stirred him from his musings, causing him to pull back from the embers and back into the unreality of the cave-dream. ”Ah...uh...Sure.” He says, standing quickly before approaching the other lizard calmly. Col wouldn’t try anything with Ash around and, frankly, Naji wasn’t particularly worried if he did anyway. ”Hey buddy..” He says softly, tip toeing his way to the lizards face, hand out stretched to pet the scaled ball of muscle. ”You did good today pal. Whose is a good lizard?” He offers quietly, using a voice one might reserve for a small dog. Naji had no real idea how smart these lizards were generally, but he seemed a great deal less smart than Ash. So maybe the affectionate approach would be a good idea.
Your battles and experiences have culminated into new power! You are now Level 2! You gain Skill Points to distribute as you please!
Unspent Skill Points: 5
Current Skills: Shield I (1.3) Minor Heal I (1.4) Lesser Flight I (1.1) Barter I (1.0) <UNUSABLE SKILLS> Scribe (0.1) Charisma (0.2) Intimidate (0.1) Iron Gullet (0.8) Dextrous (0.1) Taboo (0.4) Monster Analysis (0.2) Magic Analysis (0.1) Throw Item (0.1)
”I could do with a rest...” Naji says, flitting over to Ash and landing comfortably on her back, careful to avoid landing on the sack covering her. There was probably nothing of interest in terms of loot on the slimes body and, frankly, he was not about to go slushing through its remains even if there WAS. ”Hmm...Anyone have an idea what Iron gullet does?” He asks, since it was the closet thing to a new skill he could afford. Taboo also looked interesting, though it was similarly light on details of what function it may serve if any.
There if a brief pause. ”Also what gullet means...Second language and all.” He rumbles from his perch atop Ash’s back. ”Reading all of this in English is really uncomfortable for me. Don’t suppose anyone has found an options menu with language settings?” He asks looking at the group. ”...unless all of you are American or something. Which would explain the english.” He adds, if for no other reason than to make a little small talk with his new friends while there was lull in the supposedly life threatening situation.
”...very well..” Kagan huffed, standing to follow the prince after being forced to sit through a rather long winded five point presentation of ”Fuck challenging my brother and the horse that very notion rode in on for this but do what I want anyway.”. Honestly, if it weren’t for the heavily pregnant gem shadowing the drakken, Kagan would have sworn that he only had romantic passions for his own verbal excretions. Still, that was as firm a ‘no’ as he’d been able to wrench from the princling and if humoring him a little longer meant he could take that no and walk the royal right to the hallowed gates of ”That sound like a YOU problem” then he’d happily do so.
Though...even he had to admit the princes congratulations on Aubree came as somewhat of a suprise. Well, two surprises, but right now Kagan could only deal with one at a time. ”...Did not take you for the type to wax poetic about children. Still, it is appreciated. Hopefully the same luck will bless your forth coming child.” He adds quietly, his stony expression not betraying the mental mathematics he was currently flipping through. Should not have bought those dogs...
The inner sanctum of the palace reeked of incense, the clouds ashen and so thick he could feel the smell clinging to his skin like a begger. That should have been Kagan’s firs real warning. It was the sort of mistake novice members of Krenta’s church made. Attempting to over power the stench of befouling flesh with anything possible. It never worked, the body was too keenly aware of the smell.Eventually most just gave up and accepted the smell of death which hung in the air, until it faded into the background of their mind. Suddenly he was glad that his gems were left behind. The redhead would have doubtlessly had some complaint. The small one probably would have just played with the smoke...which would have been an amusing distraction all things considered.
What he saw...Gods what he saw. Kagan had heard of the things GEMS did with their elderly. Homes designed specifically for their care. Herbs and medicenes ground tirelessly for the failing or half dead, all for a single day more of wasteful existance of lying in a bed stewing in ones own agony. But this? It was every obscene heresy the most creative Gem could conjure dialed up to the breaking point. He...(IT, he reminded himself.) IT was alive in the most mechanical sense possible.
Kagan was not prone to fits of religious delusion. He was orthodox, reserved, calm as the bodies he deal with. The notion of seeing spirits or even the gods was to be laughed away. But behind the lightless eyes of the corpse king in front of him, Kagan could HEAR Krenta scream. It was not a mournful scream either. It was a wrathful wail with the intensity to sunder a million worlds in but a second, and a fury that would kowtow Drun into a mewling pile of terrified flesh. All at the sheer mockery that was King Toran.
As Ehkota spoke (his words reaching nothing), Kagan wanted to scream. To rip the mace from his hip and transform the man into a wonderful smear on the carpet for even knowing about this. To burn this whole tainted city to its root and continue to the next. And the next.
And the next. And the next. And the next. And the next. And the next. And the next. And the next. And the next. And the next. And the next. And the next. And the next. And the next. And the next. And the next. And the next. And the next. And the next. And the next. And the next. And the next. And the next. And the next. And the next. And the next. And the next. And the next. And the next. And the next. And the next. And the next. And the next. And the next. And the next. And the next. And the next. And the next. And the next. And the next. And the next. And the next. And the next. And the next. And the next. And the next. And the next. And the next. And the next. And the next. And the next. And the next. And the next. And the next. And the next. And the next. And the next. And the next. And the next. And the next. And the next.
And the next. And the next. And the next. And the next. And the next. And the next. And the next. And the next. And the next. And the next. And the next. And the next. And the next. And the next. And the next. And the next. And the next. And the next. And the next. And the next.
And the next. And the next. And the next. And the next. And the next. And the next. And the next. And the next. And the next. And the next. And the next. And the next. And the next. And the next. And the next. And the next. And the next. And the next. And the next. And the next. And the next. And the next. And the next. And the next. And the next. And the next.
And the next. And the next. And the next. And the next. And the next. And the next. And the next. And the next. And the next. And the next. And the next. And the next. And the next. And the next. And the next. And the next. And the next. And the next. And the next. And the next. And the next. And the next. And the next. And the next. And the next. And the next. And the next. And the next. And the next. And the next. And the next. And the next. And the next. And the next. And the next.
Until a thousand millennia from now his bones finally gave way to time and the only thing keeping the rampage from stopping was the sheer momentum of wrath behind it and naught but ash and bone to tear further asunder.
But his body would not move. Instead, he stood there. Stance calm and expressionless as the gods raged and coward in his mind. Only now becoming dimly aware of the equally dumbfounded expression on the talkative prince, his gaze laser focused on the bed. Kagan lazily turned his gaze to match his compaions, greeted with the sight of another (this unfortunately alive) drakken.
“I am the High Prince Gaelnesh, first born to the first king Toran and contender to the throne. With an official witness from the kinner’s Order, I hereby exercise my right as eldest son to challenge the king for his position as Drakka’s ruler. For the glory of Drakka.”
As the knife dropped (he refused to call this a stabbing) into the heart of the former king, things began to click away in Kagan’s mind. Ehkota’s inelegant attempt to get him to perform an illegitimate kinning. The thing affronting all of existence. The sheer gall of calling this a challenge. All a part of some bulked up little noble child whose mother should have had the good sense to squeeze him back out the moment his father released into her’s little game of sibling dominance.
All at the expense of his domain.
And as Gaelnesh issued his victory speech to him and the now singular prince of Drakka, he felt something give...and began to smile. A smile of pure joy, as though he were a child again. He’d only felt this way once before. When Warlord Harin had him agaisnt the wall and death was a near certainty. And now, this beacon of glowing joy was directed solely on Gaelnesh. ”I, Kagan Galegar...” He says, voice silk smooth and sweeter than honey, ”As an official member of the High Church of Krenta decree that the formal challenge to former King Toran by Gaelnesh Toranson is complete with no challengers. Long live the King.” He finishes with a small bow before turning to Ehkota.
”Darling I think we should attend to your bride. Best not waste your brothers time for now.” He says, gently placing a hand on the hornless Drakkens shoulder which, despite the light tenderness of the touch, held the weight of a Nymurmuris’ break tearing into the poor princes shoulder. ”By your leave your highness.” Kagan adds with a chipper bob of the head to the elder prince turned king before heading back the way he came, using the sum total of his will power to force himself not to skip gaily. Suddenly he was somewhat glad for the over abundance of incense whirling about the room. It made sure the biting wrathful heat rolling off him in waves limited to Ehkota’s senses alone.
He rather looked forward to coming back to the palace in the future.
Kagan is getting tired of the run around by the nobles, but decides to humor Ehkota. When he discovers what the king has become, he goes from annoyed to saddened, to horrified, to furious, then Drun Dwarfing Earth shattering unreasonably fuck-ass mad. Once Gaelnesh stabs the corpse dad, something snaps and Kagans Sadism kicks in. He is currently a walking beacon of absolute glee. Gaelnesh has made his first enemy as king! Yayyy. We'll see you and your kin strung up by the entrails like gore filled pinata's for your heresy while we drag what few fools dumb enough to align themselves with you dragged through fields of white hot nails. And as you scream to the gods for mercy we will giggle 'no silly <3'
Naji couldn’t help but letting out a small, mischievous chuckle as the rat flailed about like...well, something that was just hit with a disembodied eyeball to be fair. Atleast Colchain seemed to be having fun as the lizard dived to the newly stunned rat. Good lizard, you kill that thing. He was...tempted to intervene when the second rat coiled around, turning on the currently preoccupied lizard. Thankfully, his new boss seemed to be the proactive type, deftly vomiting (Ew, he noted for later) something at Danny before moving to back up her new pet. She also screamed at everyone else to keep the slime busy while she did her thing.
Scott then decided, that 'everyone’, was to consist of the three least combat oriented members of the party and not the glowy glowy murder bubble that was Danny. He sighs but gently floats down to Scott as the third pixie (Who he didn’t exactly remember meeting or getting the name of at the moment) hefted the dead rat into the path of the slime before zipping back over to them, huffing hard from the apparent effort.
”...Also I’ve been trapped in a cave. I’ve literally not seen anything.” Naji thought, deciding it was probably better to save whatever snark he was accumulating for later. “so… uhh… what, what is this plan of yours now?” the as of yet named pixie gasped inbetween breaths. "I think we can deal with this thing. There's three of us, isn't there? Between us we could try and lift that slime off the ground and- " His breath caught, and for a moment, the light went out of his eyes. Naji chalked this up to ‘your brain is currently dying. Please hold'. A buffer for hallucinations of sorts. Given the complexity of this little mind show, he was not about to call out its need to occasionally buffer. "...Well, I was thinking we lift it into the air and, well... drop it. Maybe onto something sharp, I don't know." He added finally, voice softening.
Naji examined the area around the slime and it made its slow trudge towards them, trying to find a nice place to deposit evil snot. With no readily available tissues in sight, he settled on a broken crop of stalagmites (or...were they stalactites?), hefted into the air at a slight angle by a pair of rocks. Well...it LOOKED easier to ram it into that than lift it high enough to drop it on a stable one.
”...Yeah ok. That could work. Follow my lead and go straight once you get a hold of the gooy thing.” He blurts suddenly, taking flight again, angled slightly away from the slime for a few second before charging the entity. Hopefully with the other two pixies behind him, arms outstretch ready to grab hold of the first available inch of slime that came in reach. Hopefully. If they were lucky they might even actually slam it into the waiting spike of the stala....the pointy rock that he wasn't sure the name of.
Husband of Aubree Lamay@Ellion and Adorabella Orchard@eclecticwitch Interacting with Ehkota
Kagan remained silent as Ehkota waltzed his way through his thoughts, only emitting a brief and disinterested grunt at the offer to eat as he took the seat opposite to Ehkota. He laced his fingers tightly together, never once letting the sour grimace of priesthood fall while the young prince talked to himself. This was the third time the man had ‘spoken’ with him, and it was as one sided a conversation as ever. Finally he received permission to respond, the Prince cooing brightly as he spoke of ‘making history’ and eying the kinner like he was about achieve sexual congress. The sudden, but slight, shudder that reverberated through the prince really did not help the mental image.
Not wanting to let his chance to actually TALK go out the window, Kagan calmly sat up in his chair. ”With due respect your highness.” He starts, voice cutting calm and cold against the royals trill excitement. ”Neither the church nor myself have any interest in the politics of history. Modern or otherwise. I am only here because, based on analysis of your request and fringe instances of religious cannon, that you’ve some-” he pauses for a moment, leaning forward slowly and locking eyes with the prince.
”And do permit me to emphasize the fringe nature of that Some; legimate claim to our services.” He reaches behind himself slowly, eyes taking note as the guard’s muscles tensed tightly before his brain registered what the Kinner had grabbed for. Kagan places a small worn leather bound notebook on the table, opening to a dog eared page with fresh notes scrawled on it before slowly sliding it to Ehkota for inspection.
”To abridge the explanation: Within the canon there is the Case of the Brothers Harkim. Similar circumstances, Elder brother not permitting the kinning of his elderly mother due to an inability to let go, younger brother seeking to circumvent the direct heir requirement.” He says in a quick, almost pointedly disinterested voice. The actual story was, frankly, a lot more eloquent than Kagan was making it sound. But part of him was pretty sure the artistry of a five page explanation of the brothers heritage and upbringing would likely bore the prince.
”Eventually the younger Harkim did find a wandering Kinner willing to perform the ceremony for him, on the condition that the younger issue a formal challenge to claim his brothers position. The argument being that, during such challenges, neither son stands above the other until proven otherwise. However, it is notable that if the younger brother fails, the kinner promises that both he and his mother will be shamed in death. Their bones and blood used in macabre mockeries of their honor while their entrails are yadda yadda.” Kagan says, crossing his arms and leaning back into the chair.
”The shaming requirements actually go on for a couple of pages after that.” he shrugs, not really wanting to explain the violations of orifices, egregious amounts of blood, and or implications about what would be done with the brain. ”At any rate, the younger agrees and then succeeds in his challenge. Becoming the direct heir and saving his mothers dignity in death. Everyone enjoys a happy ending and we enjoy a parable stressing the importance of performing Kinnings on family to avoid unnecessary challenges and messy familial conflict.”
”In short sir…” Kagan says, locking eyes with Ehkota once more and attempting to glare a hole into the mans soul. ”Should you agree to the same terms, I will be obligated to perform the ceremony in the same fashion. However, I do encourage you consider this option with care. This is not an exception the church is going to take lightly, and a considerable schizm WILL be its result.”
Kagan waits a moment, allowing Ehkota to mull his choice over undisturbed or ask questions before moving onto the subject of payment. Frankly, he was hoping the Drakken would decide the risk is not worth his time and back away. He’d have to challenge his brother either way, so why run the risk of eternal shame on death? Maybe once his optimism would pay off….he doubted it. Never did.
Kagan explains roughly how to justify a Kinning being performed at the request of a non-direct heir. Yes, it can be done. But its a grade A dumbass idea that requires you challenge the direct heir. If you lose, both you AND your brother are shamed. High hopes Ehkota will decide that its just not worth it and he should just chill out and be a rich noble for the rest of his days instead of king.
Naji watched the dire rats swarm the slightly less than sentient lizard his new boss had acquired and said boss. Well, the melee both parties were currently in anyway. Spotting anything in the flurry of scales and brief haze of magic Scott was attempting was a little difficult. He took a moment to carefully eye Scotts movements while he attempted to cast, making sure to memorize the movements carefully. A lot easier to teach Ash magic when he had even a vague concept of how that worked.
Meanwhile he gawked silently at the battle, taking it in with a surprising calm. It was kind of like a bar fight really, and the chaos had a weird homey comfort to him. Danny, the poor bastard, seemed to be struggling with something before releasing a mighty shout of being short on the old magic triple A batteries. Couldn’t help him, since Naji was pretty sure he could only heal or shield things, if he had enough mana to do that at all. Scott was in the process of throwing shields on pretty much everything with a pulse, so that was probably also unnecessary on his part.
Taking comfort in the fact he was pretty much useless at the moment, Naji gave a small ”Nnnnnope!” Before giving his wings a hefty push. Launching himself into the air, albiet an alien sensation, put him hopefully high enough to be out of range of the rats, but hopefully close enough to swoop in provide support if needed. He did feel a little off kilter though, the eye he was currently holding onto perhaps being a little too much for him to fly with. With a shrug, he gripped the remaining optic nerve firmly before giving it an experimental swing....and chucked it with as much might as his tiny delicate body could muster at the nearest rat.
Naji watches the carnage. Decides dealing with it directly is nowhere near his job. Flys up to what he thinks is probably a safe distance. Throws scavenged eyeball at offending rat party.
FlappyTheSpybot
