Kalleth

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Manilow's replacement CS pic

Same character face-claim, different pic.

Same beautiful Jordan Manilow.

He loves you all.

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Jordan watched the headmaster start teaching, having opened his eyes when Hargor began speaking to the student. He watched the waters from currents which flowed around him and he got a slight chill even in the warm baths. He supposed it was no different than if Jordan had come across somebody totally submersed in sand, or earth in general. Of course, most people you came across submerged in sand were already dead. As opposed to all people living and breathing, having their bodies composed of a large percentage of water.

Still, as far as Jordan knew, no elementalist alive could control their elements inside another person's body. At least, he'd never been brave enough to check whether such a thing were possible, even during his days as a spec ops agent. It was plenty dangerous being near an elementalist, or any stripe, regardless of one's environment. If Manilow could contribute anything to Shizen's tutelage, it would probably undercut Hargor's authority, and he probably wouldn't take too kindly to that. So, after taking a long moment to soak, feeling the waters still flowing around him, Manilow got up.

Taking his towel, Jordan dried off, and said a muttered farewell to the teacher and pupil. He was still wearing the "sand boxers" he'd fixed for himself in the water, and he swiped up his clothes and headed for the change-room. A shower to freshen up couldn't hurt.

---

@Zelosse

Jordan was sitting in the gym, foil sheathed, trainers tied, and stretches completed. Now, as he sat, the teacher sipped at a water bottle, shrugged his shoulders, and hummed a song.

This kid was bold enough to leave a note, now he'd better damn well show up. Jordan thought, his knees cracking as he adjusted his position. He'd had more than a few good duels in his time, and his weapon of choice was polished, sharpened, and ready for a tussle. As for the man who had to use the weapon, similar things could be said. Of course, there was the grain in his shoulder, still faintly aching even after the hot springs, as well as the heartache he was nursing, and the wariness of this kid who had seemed so explosive yesterday. Nevertheless, the gym teacher planned to give him a lesson, and he hoped it would be one of humility, and not one of mercy...

---

Manilow really tried to be patient. He really did. He was so patient in fact, that he patiently waited for the lady at the service desk to retrieve the list of dorm numbers for the students. He patiently searched said list for the Punk-In-Question's dorm number. And he patiently waited for the elevator to make his way to the top floor.

He lost his patience halfway down the hall from Felix's room.

Stomping loudly through the hall, foil still belted at his waist, shoulder creaking like a bitchy ex-girlfriend, Jordan came to a heated stop outside the punk's door. Making a fist, he slammed the door repeatedly with such force that the hinges squealed, and if such a violent action could be jokingly called a knock, then he knocked three times.

"Hey tough guy! I thought you were itching for a scrap? What, did your girlfriend tire you out? Come on muchacho, there's a score to be settled, and I don't have time to waste!"

Jordan was mostly blowing air out his ass with these comments, but he channeled his best drill sergeant brogue, and this same voice had made grown men tremble in other contexts. Namely, contexts where an assault rifle was also associated with the voice. Manilow had nearly brought it, but had decided that this particular dispute didn't require full-metal jackets or extended magazines. Or, well, guns.

The Gym teacher also had plenty of time to waste, given that his teaching slot was during the period the Academy had waived for the day following the Night Run, but anything that put a spring in the boy's step was worth a shot. He half-hoped that Felix would burn the door to ash and come out swinging. At least Jordan was ready, for once.

The Pit of Doom

Congratulations.

You've reached the edge of the Pit.

Go ahead.

Take the leap of faith.

Into the Pit....

Of Doom....

JUMP!

Closed

@Zelosse

GET IT TOGETHER SOLDIER!

The Inhospitable Expanse

Payne woke up, and he found himself in a confined space with five others. His mind flailed to reconcile how he had gotten from point A, his last memory of being in the pantry tidying up the ship's rations, to point B, waking up in what looked to be the ship's escape pod. He was in his EVA, but the extension to his matter analysis gauntlet, located on his left hand, seemed functional. That was good, at least. Just as good, was the fact that his Payne-Maker, sheathed and hooked onto his suit's waist, was still where it should be.

Payne' stomach growled, and that was not so good. He didn't know when his last meal had been, but he began to think of a new recipe for roasted apharids when he realized that the Qari who had woken him up (assuming her height wasn't an illusion,) as well as a human (most all medium-height spacefarers are) were discussing the course of action to be taken.

Now, Payne was just a cook, and a good bartender, but he could recognize that these were not ordinary circumstances. Extraordinary circumstances called for extraordinary responses. So Payne removed his safety restraints, stood up, and joined the pilot at the console.

"What's cookin'?"

Hunters of the Midnight Realm - Signups open

In whose case had we 40 lbs of steel weighing us down though? I mean, at least in Fiers' case, he only had his clothes and his rapier on. I mean a rapier doesn't weigh 40 lbs, and if it goes much over 10, it can't even really be wielded shorthanded. I mean, there's the scabbard too, but that won't be three times as heavy...

Am I focusing too much on semantics or were you referring to something specific @Zelosse

Hunters of the Midnight Realm - Signups open

Hey...I am terribly sorry about this, but due to school, I dont think Ill be able to keep up with the RP. Finals week is starting, and college is kind of brutal...Feel free to take over my character or kill him as you see fit

@InkIsDorian

Oh fuck.

He literally sank because of wearing his armour to the bottom of the sea.

Fuckin' called it.

Hunters of the Midnight Realm - Signups open

Shit Kalleth, let some of the others post before you pounce on someone. I like posting as the next guy, but slow it down a bit, we got people waking up to like 10 post that have gone by. Hell I think I woke up earlier to like 4 post, but I think that was because I got lucky and woke up early.

@Spriggs27

*Blushes.*

I just want to impress you Spriggs.

:D

Hunters of the Midnight Realm - Signups open

From this point forward, I'll wait for yet more replies, at which point somebody will run into us (me and Spriggs), or I'll wait for his reply. I'm really pumped though.

Hunters of the Midnight Realm - Signups open

@Spriggs27

"No, you won't be seeing the void, and neither will I. Come, let's go look for the others," Fiers whispered, coming up to Rosha once she'd collected herself. The woman was a mystery to Fiers, relatively unacquainted with her as he was. Of course it was plain she wasn't of the same cloth as the innkeeper's daughter, and he didn't even pretend to suspect she'd respond if he tried flirting. The fact was, a goddess of love could walk up out of the surf right this instant and Fiers would probably be more likely to glare at her and ask where his lyre was, rather than even spare her a second look.

He realized then, that he was fortunate, in having come across one of the most no-nonsense women he'd ever met. They might actually stand a chance should some ill fate befall them on this gods-damned beach. Speaking of no-nonsense women... Fiers regarded Rosha, and then the rest of the beach. Where was their sour-tongued healer? Their alchemist? Their fellow bard, and magic-wielder? Even that damned drunk of an orc would be a source of peace of mind in a world full of enemies such as this. And of course, where was Reignald, a battle-tempered rock of a man who unlike Fiers, fool that he was, might actually know what the fuck to do?

Making sure that Rosha was following, Fiers continued creeping along the beach, his eyes still burning, but considerably less than before. As he crept, a melancholy kind of roundabout lullaby started up in his head, and he set to humming softly in his throat. Death seemed close, but with friends, Death could be cast to the way side. He clutched his medallion, rubbing it and humming, feeling very much the prey in a predator's game.