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Morgan Yu

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Turaga (9/293)

  1. IC: Karak - Atero Streets (En-route to the inn) The building looks well established. That engenders good omens, at least hopefully. I look the woman over as she walks. Closer, she does not have the stride of a killer - weapons aside. A difficult thing to classify. Usually, it's not a thing you have a need to look for. Any man who wants you dead will normally not wait very long. But war has perhaps dulled that skill of mine. Little room for detective work when every enemy you kill has an identical uniform. "...This place. Food?" My words come out dry. The sun seems determined to calcify me. OOC: @Snelly
  2. IC: Karak - Atero Streets Head tilting, my hand mimes the action of drinking from a cup - more of a question. To tell the truth, I ran out of water hours ago. Something to quench the thirst is not only tempting - it's a necessity. I'm also in need of a cool place - somewhere my brain can stop cooking. Then my next plot can start building. OOC: @Snelly
  3. IC: Karak - Atero Streets I feel my entire body lock itself in place. I have made a grave mistake. And so it is by bewilderment, and not the blade, that I fall. I absentmindedly sheathe my weapon, as she has done. Finally my mouth opens, admitting what I probably should have earlier. "...I understand not this situation." OOC: @Snelly
  4. IC: Karak - Atero Streets These people. To have the gall to threaten me and then stride off, to whatever hole they urinate their time away at? No, I will not let this stand. Whatever perverse traditions they hold, I spit on. Enraged, I carry myself. The blackened blades of my club drag against the floor. My voice raises to just quieter than a bellow. "You...STAY!" OOC: @Snelly
  5. IC: Karak - Atero Streets A beat. "Again?" OOC: @Snelly
  6. IC: Karak - Atero Streets I mouth some of the words to myself. That at least makes a semblance of sense: Skrall usually do their own dirty work - perhaps the one bit of credit I could ever afford them. A few onlookers have gathered. Small ones, mostly. More scared than protesting. Catatonic in the face of danger. Eyes stay on her. I am ready if she is. ”Why you want me, huh? You try prove yourself? Glory?” I wonder if my bubbling confusion translates. OOC: @Snelly
  7. IC: Karak - Atero Streets The blast of flame from her feet - she takes wing for but a moment. Enhancements. It wasn't just the tyrants who polluted their own flesh. A new line of questioning. "You...Skrall pay?" My left thumb juts forward to her, and then around me. OOC: @Snelly
  8. IC: Karak - Atero Streets I'm quicker, the blade falls by me. I twist away leftwards. A few native words slip from my tongue, somewhat thoughtlessly, as I respond with a glinting horizontal slash for her side - poised to catch at flesh. The similar build or not, her reflexes are adequate. This is a fighter, not a worker. OOC: @Snelly
  9. IC: Karak - Atero Streets (Listening) The machine piles off. It doesn't even glance me that it had moved by itself. Matters more pressing. Two weapons, iron or steel. Different from Skrall handiwork - elegant. Perhaps more fragile. I moisten my lips and my weapon raises close to my head. And then I barrel frontwards, primal. I go low, the razor segments of my club inching to rip across her guts and chest, spilling her open like a piñata. OOC: @Snelly
  10. IC: Solan Iudex - Smoke Break "A warrior don't ever have business, Gunner, me old son." And with that half-thought parting gift, the washed up old creature swayed away from the table, thumping past the Captain and his interviewees to finally, for Mata Nui's sake, smoke outside. OOC: @Void Emissary
  11. IC: Karak - Atero Streets Rumbling, like a hungry beast. Desperately my feet push against metal, launching me back on my own terms before the vehicle roars backward. I meet eyes with the driver inside, my fist bangs against my chest. An uneven duel - yet a situation I must acclimate myself to. "YOU PICK....WRONG BOY! YOU PERISH!" The words bellow from my mouth, sloppily, but clear in intent. OOC: @Snelly
  12. IC: Karak - Atero Streets The stench of Roxtus. I am miles away but I can smell it. It keeps me focused. I am a revenant in this land of the living. They call this place, "Atero". I don't wish to be here. It's by the water, but that attracts everyone. Lots of eyes to see me. Unspoken thoughts, malicious intent. Impossible to ignore. Feasible, though, to discard. Despite my reluctance, here is better than any place else. And I seek shelter from the vicious heat. The masses chatter, and mutter amongst themselves, errant glances aim at me. Short lived as I glance back behind my mask. I walk on. The language they speak, I can pick up words and terms. Intonation carries more meaning. I feel it. Why do they ooze of mistrust toward one another? One of them - my size - sits in a machine larger than the one I claimed. A woman. She enjoys the privilege of boredom, stretched out in the wheeled contraption. A bird swoops down, perching itself on the front of the idle vehicle. Perhaps it too was bored. Then - a sound. Hands close around my weapon, drawn instantly. I snarl, the vehicle having emitted a horrid noise that tore at the ears. A warhorn. I leap forward, atop the hood of the vehicle. My club raises itself to the sky. The first enemy. OOC: @Snellyhello!
  13. Karak, aka "Languis" Species: Glatorian Tribe: Blood (Defunct, approved by Goose) Gender: Male Appearance: Karak's stance is somewhat hunched or lower down, making his height somewhat deceiving, being even a little taller than your average Glatorian. Despite struggles with food and resources he manages to be noticeably sharp in build, thanks to strict routines he refuses to give up even when malnourished. His natural armour pigment is a pale, fleshy pink, with his red skin heavily displayed. In particular, his biceps under his shoulder pads and arms up to his wrist are almost completely bare, showcasing an array of ghostly white scars, simple in shape but sometimes with more texture and detail, forming images or runes. A few lesser scars can be seen on his unmasked face, and an unseen tapestry of marks beneath his chestplate, only hinted at by his bare abdominal region. His eye colour is a deep maroon. His armour is a mixture of well made brown leather with some rudimentary mineral elements, mostly used in the lining to provide extra protection. He wears something of a mixture between a mask and a helmet, which is made mostly of metal, resembling what we might recognise as an elephant’s skull (technically a mastodon skull), and secured with leather straps around his head. Near the open mouth section is a pair of tusks half as long as a forearm, and a cavity in the centre of the skull allows his eyes to glimpse through. It's worth noting he seems to use warpaint to smear the area around his eyes, to reduce glare. Skills: The warrior’s path from a young age has long since sculpted Karak into a chance defying machine of a man, battles and fights only having strengthened him in resolve and energy. While crafty, Karak’s virtue lies in his unbreakable tenacity. Because of the painful rituals practiced by the Blood Tribe, Karak’s pain tolerance is absurdly high, to the point it might rival a Glatorian with a cybernetic ability to inhibit just that, and his natural stamina seems like an endless pool. Despite physical disadvantages compared to his Glatorian peers due to his lack of cybernetics, “Languis” is a dangerous and fierce opponent that makes him a risky person to cross. Weakness(es): Karak has no cybernetics, and is from a much colder and damper climate than the sands of Bara Magna, which leaves him generally more dehydrated than the locals and more prone to the risk of exposure. He has a limited understanding of the Agori language and has difficulty communicating, and also is rather asocial and distrusting, which was exacerbated by his newfound nature as a foreigner. Gear: Karak’s weapon of choice is a large two handed weapon carried on his back, akin to a giant saw. The weapon’s length is about 4 feet in total, with the blades (8 on each side) being made of a sharp glassy black rock found up North in the Skrall/Blood Tribe homeland - that tends to fragment when it shatters. The weapon itself is made from a strong wood, and can be used to batter enemies rather than slice, if Karak so chose. The Blood Tribe’s stance on cybernetic implants has led to interesting technological developments after fierce skirmishes and recovery of Skrall weaponry - one might call them workarounds. One of the more deadly is a mechanical javelin launcher, a long treasured weapon of the Blood Tribe, perfected after years of innovation. It’s a long and hefty rifle-like weapon with glyphs and carvings in the wooden stock, that is capable of firing a single metal tipped javelin before having to be reloaded. Karak also carries barbed variants of the ammunition and a limited amount of black rock tipped javelin’s within the storage compartment of his vehicle. Finally, a short, pointed metal warpick remains at his hip, stolen long ago from a Skrall combatant. Vehicle: Karak also possesses a vehicle (approved by Goose), a seized Cendox he named Huracan, in reference to the considerable speed of the vehicle. The vehicle has a mounted thornax launcher, and has two front blades mounted as typical for the combat variant of the vehicle. Personality: Karak has the demeanour of a vengeful Iron Wolf. By necessity and also by nature he works entirely alone, which has perhaps worsened some of his more distrusting and antisocial traits. He feels as if he is on an alien world, and his Xenophobia has only been made more severe by the several Tribes and their harsh attitude towards outsiders such as himself. He speaks only broken Agori, often mixed with his native tongue. Background/Status: A wanderer from the lands North, little is known about Karak other than his derogatory nickname “Languis”, in reference to his former tribe of Blood. Despite his fearsome nature he is not a bandit nor a brigand, and so his goals remain elusive, a secret he intends to keep to himself until death. The Skrall are his only known interest, but to what end is his own business.
  14. IC: Solan Iudex A long, deliberate stare. It was obviously a slower process for Iudex to ponder much of anything, but the process continued nevertheless. "Aye. Fair enough." He smirked, after some time. Visibly, the man would have seemed calmer to Gunner. Sedated. "I'll...you ain't seen me like I was, not yet. But I'll be the best karzin' hire you ever had." He rose to his feet, groaning a bit as he cracked his neck. "I'll stick around here. Case I change my mind to something stupider, later, and don't come back." OOC: @Void Emissary@BULiK@ARROW404 (also yes, that was the implication, thank you)
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