Dolce.

[|°ὺ₯₳ↄĸJONES]

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D o l c e[/center:i8jd4nx6][hr:i8jd4nx6][/hr:i8jd4nx6]
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Homeland Security: Low.
Economic Status: Mana Enhanced; rural.[/justify:i8jd4nx6]

[hr:i8jd4nx6][/hr:i8jd4nx6][center:i8jd4nx6]Public Role-play
Feel free to inhabit the town/city and or simply play in it.[/center:i8jd4nx6][hr:i8jd4nx6][/hr:i8jd4nx6]

[Reno]

"Wake up” a familiar, unwelcome voice snarls in Kylun’s left ear.

A sharp boot to his ribs emphasizes the command.

Cracking open his eyes to permit a sliver of light the penetration of his weariness, Kylun examines the shadow on the ground. Stout, with a mess of spiky hair made hard with lime. A battle hatchet dangling from a broad belt. Yes, he does know this fool.

“Hello, Sod,” he acknowledges unhappily, dragging his chest out of the mud and adjusting his view to take in the angry, red, bulging silhouette. Wiping the front of his coat off, he observes that the rain was not entirely his imagination. The mice are gone, but the guards that roam the city with the crests of Renovatio along the side of their heads have hardly dissolved. At that moment a step backwards is taken, and his coated body is pressed against the wall of the narrow alleyway. Animal pelts, crumbled trash and bones of all kind litter the entire way, but that doesn't catch Kylun's attention.

The right hand fills the emblazoned haft of a short sword, the blade sharp and well crafted. At the same time that Sod is vomitting nonsense that'll likely make little to no difference, his body commences movements and he leaves the alleyway without so much as a word to the idiot. The right foot fell into the puddle, but he wasn't graced by the flying water which filled the spot where he stood before. Instead, his body is gone completely from site.

Soon his heels are dragged along the ground, and the blade is offered forcefully to the chest of a suprised warrior. Slipping it across his body, his body ducks just below the jutting spear above him and the blade soon is cutting through the fat of the knight's stomach, ripping through him with the blade spun around and stabbed with riveting speed. Just after the stab, his arm ripped the bloody blade from the man's torso and his right foot makes brutal contact with the guard who is still falling before him. Using him as a boost of elevation, his leap takes him to the top of a low built house that soon attracts the atention of many within the city. Sod seems to disappear, but Kylun stands valiantly, emerald eyes capturing the world around him.

[Reno]

Kylun's mind had transformed Dolce into a source of lively entertainment. Aggresive arcs of steel carved a path towards his body but unfortunately found that the energy forced into their beings were useless and never made contact with Kylun's dancing body. The thief no longer wielded a blade, but he did swing single knife that cut ankles and wrists to disarm rather than kill the poor guards tasked with his detainment. A blade swung towards his neck, but he had already long since ducked from his initial position and shoved the dagger into the spleen of the armored guard. The guard shook, then hit the floor with the others that groaned in defeat.

"What brings you back here, Kylun?"

A familiar voice struck his ears. Rough yet articulate, full of wisdom and other things considered elderly. Kylun offered a glance behind him in the direction of the voice, and was mildy suprised by the old face he saw. The same old black man that had assisted in raising him from the streets, taking him in from a mother that knew no sense and a father that was already dead. Honeyplum eyes of kindness stared at Kylun, but there was something about the old withered body's demeanor that gave Kylun the impression that the caretaker wasn't pleased.

"I can't let you just walk away this time, Kylun."

The flag of Renovatio hung in the center, and its audible whistle in the blowing breeze was all that could be heard for a moment. Then Kylun forced a smile upon the old man's already confused soul, and his feet both twisted and shuttled him into the direction of that bald black man. The knife facing downard was flicked upwards in the same blur that his arm flew before him in a thrust directly towards that old man's head.

The man was dead...

Atleast in his heart. The very son he had raised from birth, not even his own blood, had turned against him. The knife's tip halted the moment it made contact with his dry palm, causing Kylun's eyes to narrow in both amusement and entertainment. The mystical empowerment of the elder was something Kylun had come to forget, the same magic that shattered the knife's components and thrusted them all into Kylun's direction all at once. Simple manipulation of forces causing sharpnel to shoot through and into him.

Kylun was flung backwards into the ground where the guards lay at the same time, joining them in pain but not in defeat. One of their weapons were lifted upwards to his face, causing the old man to view the child's arrogant face against his will.

"Same ol', same ol'."