OoC: This is invite-only.
You know if you've been invited, trust me.
(Also Sem you're invited)
---
The wind passed quietly through his brown hair, which normally hung carelessly over the top edges of his vision. A piece of paper was clutched in the teen's black gloved hand, clenched between dry palms and a rubberized handlebar. The big, black, wind-powered motorcycle sped forward at incredible speeds. The spinning motion of the teen's left hand kept circulating air rapidly in through the generator, forcing a massive output. The motorcycle was as wide as the teen's knees as he spread them around the seat, about three feet. The motorcycle was easily seven feet long, with heavy guards over the wheels. One would be impressed that this motorcycle could move with so little power. One would also be impressed that the teen had mastered a martial art as well as an elemental controlling technique.
He was full of impressive surprises.
The front of the motorcycle was elaborately designed to match the face of a Chinese dragon, the whiskers curling backwards along the sides to form foot guards. Kalseng sped forward, the engine not dying. He'd seen his battle zone for a while, the four-to-five story tall columns of earth were hard to miss. They towered over a grassy field, occasionally parting ways to huddle around a tranquil pool of water. As he finally neared the battlefield, Kalseng killed the engine and slid the bike to a stop. He pressed down the kickstand with his left foot, protected by a traditional pair of shoes worn for martial arts. After the motorcycle came to a complete stop, Kalseng swung his right leg over, and stretched his arms. The right sleeve of his green tee had been pulled off, unlike his left. This was to not restrict his movement when he resorted to one-armed spear conflict. Speaking of...
Kalseng kicked the side of his bike, which gave way. A slot, about four inches across, popped open, and a spearhead swung with it. Kalseng gripped it around the base, and yanked out the long green shaft. One end was capped with copper, the other sprouted into a spear head. A circular base started the head, and a small, sharp metal extension stuck out in both directions vertically, forming kunai-shaped points. From the top of the circle, a spearhead formed, sharp and strong. A long, trailing red piece of fabric was wrapped around the base of the head, meant to act as a bit of distracting flutter. It was about two feet long, and tapered off at the end. Kalseng placed the copper capped end on the ground, and the 6' 2" spear came just to the top of his head. Kalseng looked around for a moment, and then looked at the crumpled flyer in his hand. He lifted his spear up with his right hand, and slung it over his shoulder, the red tassel swaying in the breeze. He flattened the flyer against his worn green shirt, covering the small red Kanji for wind with three radiating red rings. Red for luck, of course.
The map indicated the first pool to the east. Kalseng had come from the east, as his compass had dictated. He shuffled his worn jeans back to his motorcycle, and retrieved a square-looking hat. Facing a corner of the red hat forward, he placed it on his head and shuffled out, spear in hand, towards the field.
The columns overhung the area, casting large shadows over pools of clear water. The wind curved through the place, tickling the surface of the water and rustling quiet grass. He neared the edge of the pool, and stuffed the flyer in an empty pocket. He pulled a pocket watch out of the same pocket, and held it up to see the time. 3 PM. Right on schedule. He slipped the watch back in his pocket, and shook his arms out. His right arm had a bladed, steel bracelet hanging around his forearm, about four and a half inches in diameter. They were light, and he hardly noticed them unless he was being careless with the blades. Which he never quite felt in the mood to do, unlike some teenagers. He was so glad his 15-year-old days were 5 years behind him. Kalseng slammed his spearhead into the ground, and called out.
"You here yet?" He asked. "I'm ready for this fight of yours!"
You know if you've been invited, trust me.
(Also Sem you're invited)
---
The wind passed quietly through his brown hair, which normally hung carelessly over the top edges of his vision. A piece of paper was clutched in the teen's black gloved hand, clenched between dry palms and a rubberized handlebar. The big, black, wind-powered motorcycle sped forward at incredible speeds. The spinning motion of the teen's left hand kept circulating air rapidly in through the generator, forcing a massive output. The motorcycle was as wide as the teen's knees as he spread them around the seat, about three feet. The motorcycle was easily seven feet long, with heavy guards over the wheels. One would be impressed that this motorcycle could move with so little power. One would also be impressed that the teen had mastered a martial art as well as an elemental controlling technique.
He was full of impressive surprises.
The front of the motorcycle was elaborately designed to match the face of a Chinese dragon, the whiskers curling backwards along the sides to form foot guards. Kalseng sped forward, the engine not dying. He'd seen his battle zone for a while, the four-to-five story tall columns of earth were hard to miss. They towered over a grassy field, occasionally parting ways to huddle around a tranquil pool of water. As he finally neared the battlefield, Kalseng killed the engine and slid the bike to a stop. He pressed down the kickstand with his left foot, protected by a traditional pair of shoes worn for martial arts. After the motorcycle came to a complete stop, Kalseng swung his right leg over, and stretched his arms. The right sleeve of his green tee had been pulled off, unlike his left. This was to not restrict his movement when he resorted to one-armed spear conflict. Speaking of...
Kalseng kicked the side of his bike, which gave way. A slot, about four inches across, popped open, and a spearhead swung with it. Kalseng gripped it around the base, and yanked out the long green shaft. One end was capped with copper, the other sprouted into a spear head. A circular base started the head, and a small, sharp metal extension stuck out in both directions vertically, forming kunai-shaped points. From the top of the circle, a spearhead formed, sharp and strong. A long, trailing red piece of fabric was wrapped around the base of the head, meant to act as a bit of distracting flutter. It was about two feet long, and tapered off at the end. Kalseng placed the copper capped end on the ground, and the 6' 2" spear came just to the top of his head. Kalseng looked around for a moment, and then looked at the crumpled flyer in his hand. He lifted his spear up with his right hand, and slung it over his shoulder, the red tassel swaying in the breeze. He flattened the flyer against his worn green shirt, covering the small red Kanji for wind with three radiating red rings. Red for luck, of course.
The map indicated the first pool to the east. Kalseng had come from the east, as his compass had dictated. He shuffled his worn jeans back to his motorcycle, and retrieved a square-looking hat. Facing a corner of the red hat forward, he placed it on his head and shuffled out, spear in hand, towards the field.
The columns overhung the area, casting large shadows over pools of clear water. The wind curved through the place, tickling the surface of the water and rustling quiet grass. He neared the edge of the pool, and stuffed the flyer in an empty pocket. He pulled a pocket watch out of the same pocket, and held it up to see the time. 3 PM. Right on schedule. He slipped the watch back in his pocket, and shook his arms out. His right arm had a bladed, steel bracelet hanging around his forearm, about four and a half inches in diameter. They were light, and he hardly noticed them unless he was being careless with the blades. Which he never quite felt in the mood to do, unlike some teenagers. He was so glad his 15-year-old days were 5 years behind him. Kalseng slammed his spearhead into the ground, and called out.
"You here yet?" He asked. "I'm ready for this fight of yours!"
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