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originally posted in:The New Dojo
Edited by Obi-Emp Kenobi:
9/26/2016 9:48:33 AM
11
[b]Sins of the Past.[/b]
Sakuret Ceiko took a seat at a somewhat crowded bar, his silvery hair slicked back and his beard trimmed down to stop near his Adams Apple. Strangely enough his didn't have his red trenchcoat on today, it did look pretty dumb on him.
He had on a simple charcoal black shirt and cargo pants, the shirt revealing his bulging muscles upon his arms along with some needle scars. He tapped his right foot on the ground and spoke to the bartender.
"Whiskey."
He said in his usual gruff tone to the bartender and the bartender reached under the counter and pulled out a bottle of Whiskey and a glass. As the alcohol flowed into the bottle it reminded Sakuret of his past... His sins he had committed.
His Stark blue eyes looked down to his left hand, once it had the mark of Khorne, The Chaos God of War and Battle. The pain of his flesh being seared by the mark came back to him painfully, the voices of those he had killed while under the influence of the Chaos God came back as well, swelling into his mind were the memories he once repressed. That was long behind him...but it still haunted him to this day.
Sakuret reached for the glass of whiskey, gulping it down and placing the bottle back on the table.
"Give me more whiskey."
He said to the bartender, complying to the mans order. Sakuret reached into his pocket for a pack of cigarettes and brought one out along with his silver Zippo lighter. He stared at his somewhat small reflection, he needed a way to figure this out, no he needed to figure [b]him[/b] out. He opened the zippo and lit his cigarette, pocketing the lighter.
[spoiler]Open.[/spoiler]
English
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[b]Generally people made noise when they took a seat next to you... But a newcomer did not... No... This guy was different. He wore fully meshed black armor, admantium plated with ceramic fibers and poly shard overcoat. He had a helmet on... Glass, bulletproof, with two noise sensors peaking out from the top. But the helmet quickly folded back as the glass retraced downward, revealing tanned skin, spiky blonde hair, and a single yellow eye that narrowed like a cats. The other eye and right ear were covered by a black band that wrapped around the man's face. But the most striking feature was the lower metal jaw, with sharpened metal teeth that glistened with violence.[/b] [b]He gave Sakuret and nod and pulled a cigarette from his utility belt, holding it out slightly.[/b] [i]"Light...?"[/i] [b]He asks quietly, his accent a plain American. Below his waist was camo pants with a black and red design, mostly just to cover up the bottom portion of his armor. At his hips, two folding blades and two hand guns in holsters. Yet despite the tremendous amount of gear, he had an almost lazy... Uncaring disposition to him... But there was something else there... An incredibly overwhelming sense of intelligence and mastery. He looked like a soldier, but he gave off the presence of a being much more powerful than a normal human... Not that it mattered much... He looked like he had been through hell.[/b]
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Sakuret turned his head to the man besides him. Reaching into his pocket he pulled out his lighter again and handed it over. "Here, you can keep it." He said, blowing a puff of smoke from his mouth and drinking some of the whiskey. Sakuret didn't recognize the man, then again he never really recognized anyone here. Most people he knew either left or died. "What's your name?" Sakuret asked the unknown man besides him. He more or less wanted to know the 'new' people here.
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[b]The man lit his cigarette and but down on the butt end, looking over the lighter as he spoke.[/b] [i]"I have many names... Sorta. I like Damien the best... But you can also call me Judge or Lordan."[/i] [b]Damien turns to Sakuret, his eyes searching him carefully, looking over his size, shape, gear... Not really out of interest, but out of habit.[/b] [i]"What about you...? Name or nicknames...?"[/i] [b]He asks, motioning for the bartender to fetch him a bottle on one of the shelves. A simple beer. If Damien was going to chat, he'd at least stay half conscious.[/b]
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"Sakuret. Also your cigarette is lit on the wrong side...Damien." He said, looking back at Damien. Sakuret felt as if something was off with this situation but put it aside, he shouldn't really be suspicious much anymore. "You know...I used to know someone here, fancied himself a suit like yours, though he never talked. I never saw his face but he and I were friends you could call it. I still remember his cobalt flame...Now he's gone and I'm stuck here, watching newcomers come to the Dojo every day." Sakuret told his small story, his motives unclear.
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[b]Damien turned the cigarette around in slight annoyance, feeling slight shame as his mishap.[/b] [i]"Blue flame, y'say...? The Martyr. Yes. I knew both Alex Wilson and The Cobalt Phoenix. And I know the Ronin. I figured I'd stop by eventually and say hi to all the old legends... But they have all disappeared with the wind..."[/i] [b]His drink slips next to him as the bartender pads away, Damien removing the lid with ease only to look down the hole of the bottle and grimace. Beer wasn't his thing.[/b] [i]"And what of you...? You seem like a stone cold badass. Are you a legend? A hero? Aspiring ass kicker?"[/i] [b]He says with a hint of humor, his dry sarcasm a clear part of his personality.[/b]
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"A somebody. Its better than being a nobody." He stated, not in the mood for jokes. Sakuret put out his cigarette into an ashtray. "Though...I have sinned in the past. That is something I will admit." He got up from his seat and started to pop and crack his joints for a minute and stopped. He looked at Damien. "I look forward to meeting you again." With that, Sakuret took his leave from the bar. [spoiler]End.[/spoiler]
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[spoiler]That was fast -3-[/spoiler]
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[spoiler]To be honest I didn't know how I'd push that on.[/spoiler]
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[spoiler]Fair enough.[/spoiler]
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A man opened the door and entered the dimly lit room. He was rather short for a warrior, standing tall at 5' 10', but he was built lithe and strong. A heavy hood was draped over his head and he pushed it off to reveal himself. The most obvious attribute of his face were his eyes. A heavy green were the base color, with a series of golden flakes scattered about inside. But strangely they went beyond his irises and a few flakes rested on his pupils. He sported a well-trimmed goatee and short, pulled back hair. At least it was meant to be pulled back. It was rather random and was dotted by both grey and white hairs. The grey from stress and the white from horror. He wore heavy blue and red robes adorned with fur. It resembled no creature known nor did it appear synthetic. At his waist was a short, heavy sword; a jingling bag full of what sounded like coin; and a sidearm, runes etched in slide. Slung across his back was a rifle, modeled after an M-1 Carbine. Similar runes ran along the barrel and stock. Slung opposite was a bag full of the items of a wanderer. Navigation devices, guides, maps, first aid, and material for a short term shelter. He sat a few seats from the other and rather than order a drink, he pulled his bag in front of him a pulled 2 maps as well as a flask. The bartender approached and he presented the flask without a word. It was half full. "Find out what's in here and top me off." He said it without looking up and the bartender narrowed his eyes. "[u]We pay first here[/u]" That was actually false but the man did not look wealthy. He looked up as he dug around in his bag and retrieved a solid ore of sliver. It probably weighed around 8 pounds. The bartender looked at the chunk of metal in awe and looked back to the man. "That should dispel any misgivings about my wealth" He went back to his maps as the bartender began sniffing the flask and scanning the shelves.
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[spoiler]bump because it got fücking buried.[/spoiler]
