[Kelwyn's Knocker] Peer Pressure

A child is smarter than this fool...

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Known as the Celestial Seat, Nyka is a religious city in Northern Sylira. Ruled by four demigods and traversed by a large crevice, the monk-city is both mystical and dangerous. [Lore]

[Kelwyn's Knocker] Peer Pressure

Postby Khemkhaengawut on March 11th, 2016, 2:05 am

15th Spring 516 AV

Just like every other morning, Khemkhaengawut’s routine began by complaining over the lack of food in his stomach, filled said aching stomach with water, and going outside for a quick run around the city. Some exercise was always good, especially to stimulate his metabolism and not let his body to fall into slumber. Despite being in Nyka for some time now, not only he had no friends, but also had no sense of direction. Sure, he knew where each of the most important building were in this city, and that was enough. He knew where the forge was, where the hostel was, and where the aperture stood. That was all important in his life. No matter how much he had looked for it, there were no training facilities for him, which was somewhat shameful. He was forced to use his own bodyweight, which was very inferior to the amount of weight he needed to keep his bulking figure. That, and the poor rations of the city had made his body lose some volume. Sure, some of that was fat and he enjoyed more definition, but in the long run it would cost him some strength.

Running barefoot and shirtless through the Nykan streets, whenever a gust of wind blew him he initiated a sprint, which wouldn’t stop until the next gust of wind. Sometimes, those gusts of wind went on and on and his breathing was severely affected because of it, and in other times the gusts of wind came as fast as arrows, the intensity of the routine making him sweat like a pig. Did pigs sweat? What a weird expression, he thought, as a gust of wind blew him and thus initiated his sprint. At the sight of a small crowd surrounding his usual destination, Khemkhaengawut redirected onto a different route to avoid slowing down. Even if he was heading into the unknown, what was going to hurt him? Nothing, of course. He was invincible. He had worked his entire life, or most of it at least, to become the best man he could, a pillar of strength for humanity to support itself. Such majestic and grandiose was his kindness, offering his entire existence for the sake of others.

The gust of air didn’t came for perhaps two entire chimes, the overgrown Chaktawe inhaling so strongly that the Aperture was surely jealous of the big cavity that was his gaping mouth. The moment the sprint stopped, so did he, trying badly to catch on his breath. The sweat was rushing down his shaved head with such intensity it seemed it was going to make the ink of his flesh leak with it. Wiping it off with an even sweatier hand, he’d look around to see where he had ended up. Truly, his eyes had been open they didn’t see, didn’t register what was opening before his eyes due to the lack of oxygen. Only now, when he recovered, he had the strengths to do so. There was nothing remarkable where he was. A bunch of monks were discussing something as they glanced towards him, too far away from him to be a direct threat. The stone buildings rose around him, as usual. The only thing remarkable was the bunch of boys that were looking at him, being quite close to him. They didn’t speak, but their stares spoke for him. He urged his body to recover, his mind being even stronger than his body, and forced his breathing to calm down to acceptable levels.

When he was ready, he stood tall once again and moved closer to them to see if he could recruit an apprentice to work with him. Kids were perfect for that, as they learned fast and didn’t require payment – or if they did, it wouldn’t cost him more than a Laat per day. “What are you boys doing here!?” He’d ask them, his loud voice being almost like a yell. They didn’t answer, but instead began whispering in each other’s ears whenever they weren’t staring up at the tall, bulky, handicapped, heavily tattooed, black eyed, gorgeous red man that questioned them. “Umm…” Began one of them, the Chaktawe raising his head in superiority which frightened the boy. “Speak, child!” The boy swallowed, and its frail voice came forth at last. “W-we wondering… I-if y-you…” Pause, in which the boy exchanged a couple of glances with his friends. “… if y-you’d Kn-Knock the Knocker…”

The Chaktawe didn’t have to even ask, as all the boys and the one girl present pointed towards the same location in the wall. A knocker in the wall. Was that it? Khemkhaengawut couldn’t afford to waste his time with these nonsense… but he also couldn’t allow for his manliness to not be shown. After all, these boys needed somebody to inspire them and teach them the way of the True Men, the Men of Peace like him who were very rare in this world. Heading towards it with his somewhat wet feet, he’d glance back at them to see how they stared at him. This city was surely weird. Turning back around to the Knocker, there was no ceremony as the Chaktawe did indeed, knock it.
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[Kelwyn's Knocker] Peer Pressure

Postby Dove Brown on September 8th, 2016, 12:39 pm


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