Kalleth

Blorbs - A World Without Limits (...Kinda)

>>Fall asleep in the MOST DISTINGUISHED MANNER POSSIBLE
>>Dream about the Great War

Blorbs - A World Without Limits (...Kinda)

>>Create {Distinguished} {Reginald} {Old Gentleman with Spectacles}
>>Log in
>>Putter about until somebody else joins in
>>Mutter about the Great War
>>Stroke Moustache

The Inhospitable Expanse

Payne wandered through the facility, once his commanding officer had made it clear that their current location was probably safe. He'd decided to go investigate the loading bay, since he had nothing better to do, and the de facto leaders of their two groups would probably appreciate having somebody take stock of everything they had at their disposal. What was he to think of the fact that another group had landed at exactly the same time near almost the exact same location? Eh, happy coincidence. We're quite the motley bunch. A pair of Qari, as well as a pair of Azaali, and a trio humans, gives the major races fair representation. And we've also managed to find ourselves with a few robots, and some outliers. The Halion, the Kasa, and... me.

Payne shrugged, he didn't much mind being the only Urhusasja around. From what he could remember of Rukhkah, he wasn't certain others of his kind would blend terribly well with this group of survivors. Of course, that was nothing compared to the walking stomping, talking screaming, irritable pissed off Halion they were saddled with. As far as the Cook was concerned, she had no business coming anywhere near his kitchen, and he hoped the leaders directed her at something equally large, foul-smelling, and mean. That thought gave him pause, as he reminded himself of the map he'd seen earlier, of the colony.

"Feynman, does this base have a kitchen, someplace to make food? Even a half-decent bar-top would do fine."

Payne reached the Loading Bay, and began rooting through the rows and rows of crates, some opened, some still sealed, all seeming long-abandoned. He scanned the labels, looking for the supplies of food that had hopefully been left behind in a hurry. He could use his Matter Analyzer if need be as well, rifling through the contents of boxes and scanning them to judge how suitable they were for consumption. The last thing Payne wanted to do was go scavenging, out where he could be on the menu, rather than composing a menu of his own.

Mistborn Era 2

Name: Stanley Tarfinger

Appearance: Jeffrey Dean Morgan

Age: 29

Gender: Male

Allomantic or Feruchemical ability and type: Suppressor "Blindfighter" Twinborn; Burns Pewter, Stores Tinminds

Role: Railway Magnate (Skaa/Noble)

Background: Stanley rose up through the ranks of a rail company, because of his uncanny ability to manage people, all while managing to somehow keep up with incomparable quotas. Despite having little to no connections at the beginning of his career, Stanley is considered a rising star on the noble stage, and is currently looking to marry into a noble family. He especially has his eye on the Lekal Family, considering their lucrative railroad connections. Also, while definitely not something that is in the public sphere of knowledge, Stanley runs a underground fighting ring where it is rumored that the victor of one hundred consecutive bouts is given the right to challenge the proprietor for primary shares in his company. As far as anybody in the already small circle knows, Stanley has yet to be challenged by a fighter of the necessary caliber.

Mistborn (Era 1 or 2)

So, you gonna start this shit up or...?

Hearts of Azalore(Grim-Dark, Fantasy, Medieval, High-Casual)

Int check.

Byu / Blorbs! The Fun Forum Game You Might (but probably don't) Remember!

>>create {Priest}{Knowledge}{Father_Wesley}
>>Begin drawing up blueprints for a Blorb Chapel

Give the avatar above you a Porn Name!

A Hilarious Chastity Belt That Gives You Nightmares

Men vs. Women Race to 1000

676

Closed

Jordan shrugged, realizing he was talking to thin air. Seemed only one thing got through to this kid, with the possible exception of this mystery girl. He truly had to wonder how she'd got through to him. He followed, closing the door gently behind him, gymward-bound.

---

Jordan arrived at the gym, and saw that Felix was waiting. The youngster gave a throwaway piece of smack-talk which made Jordan want to ask why he even bothered, considering he wouldn't even listen to his target's response. But the gym teacher sighed in resigned determination to at least tire this kid out, give him some exertion. He shrugged off his shirt, revealing what was undeniably a muscular frame. Lean, but riddled with scars, Manilow's body was an unspoken testament to his years of service. Here, a line of stitch-marks from where shrapnel had entered his side. There, a strange patch of stippled pale spots from where he'd once had acid dripped on his skin, as a means of torture. And lastly and most prominently, a long and dark scar ran all the way from the right edge of Jordan's collarbone, in a deep and jagged line down past his belt near his right hip. That particular scar was the makings of no armed conflict, but rather... Something else entirely.

Still, Jordan kept in good shape. By the very nature of his current occupation, and elemental power, he demanded excellent physical health from himself. In his pockets, he carried his element with him, in bags of sand, open and ready for use. An additional, less obvious source of his element was present. Early every morning, Jordan entered the gym with some of the dustiest carpets lying around the dorms, and beat them clean. Consequentially, even though the dust had settled, there was always a thin patina of earth all about the room. Too thin to see, at least until Jordan decided to use it. If he needed to use it. He doubted he would.

Unsheathing his rapier from his belt, Jordan took up his stance, and in a fit of adolescent pettiness, and perhaps frustration at being so thoroughly ignored, he decided to pluck a nerve.

"You don't deserve her," Jordan muttered, in a stage-whisper. And then his stance locked in place, muscles tensed to spring, every sense focused in on the fight itself. He felt his breath slow, and his heartbeat grow sluggish. It's just a friendly spar, Jordan thought to himself.

Since when is it ever just a friendly spar with you? His mind responded in answer.

@Zelosse