Lord Strava
A Returned Evil
Zorren sighed, leaning away from the circuit board, he set down the soldering iron. His arms ached, his hands wouldn’t stop creaking and cracking, and now his neck was sore. Rising to his feet, he nodded to a nearby assistant that stood at the ready. Moving away from the table he saw the other step up and take his place. Standing for a time, he watched the man combining each length as necessary.
Turning to leave, he rolled his shoulders, cracked his neck, and then flexed his fingers until each snapped or popped once at least. He hated the feeling of being tight and unable to move properly. Who does? He constantly thought that to himself, but if he was being honest with himself maybe he had small cases of obsessive compulsive disorder. It would perfectly explain why he is so perfectly adept in circuit building, engineering, and fashion design, and all the other things that just seem to form together in his mind in a single second, creating a mental map that would align it all perfectly.
Removing his shirt, he wiped the sweat from his face, then the grime from his hand. The shirt was tossed to the side as unnecessary. Heading out into the light, he looked around at the night light that existed around the building compound. Walking freely at a decent pace he rubbed his abs a moment, feeling greasy but likely not, mostly just in his head probably. The healthy and fit body looked fine, despite his internal conflict.
Holding a hand above his head, he concentrated as he walked. Reaching a side walk that neared his compound grounds, he looked at the few patrons of the sidewalk as he waited. Suddenly a shirt slammed into his hand with force. He had used his power to call to a shirt from the office. Luckily he knew the exact placement of the clothing, and therefore how to move it around in the air until it would reach his hand.
Sliding it down over his chest, he noticed a few ladies placed oddly along the street. Each was beautiful in their own way.
Suddenly a boom sounded. Turning his head he watched as a hundred men swarmed the streets, blasters in hand. These were soldiers not just every day people. Mercenaries possibly, sure, but at least not men he knew. Ducking back behind a wall, the young man sent his sense out for what he could do in this situation. It could mean his death, sure but he wanted to help the people around if he was able. He also quickly sent a telepathic warning to those in his companies doors, to lock them and not open them for anyone but him, then he ended with a password he would use to open and prove himself.
[member="Lakura Salim"]
Turning to leave, he rolled his shoulders, cracked his neck, and then flexed his fingers until each snapped or popped once at least. He hated the feeling of being tight and unable to move properly. Who does? He constantly thought that to himself, but if he was being honest with himself maybe he had small cases of obsessive compulsive disorder. It would perfectly explain why he is so perfectly adept in circuit building, engineering, and fashion design, and all the other things that just seem to form together in his mind in a single second, creating a mental map that would align it all perfectly.
Removing his shirt, he wiped the sweat from his face, then the grime from his hand. The shirt was tossed to the side as unnecessary. Heading out into the light, he looked around at the night light that existed around the building compound. Walking freely at a decent pace he rubbed his abs a moment, feeling greasy but likely not, mostly just in his head probably. The healthy and fit body looked fine, despite his internal conflict.
Holding a hand above his head, he concentrated as he walked. Reaching a side walk that neared his compound grounds, he looked at the few patrons of the sidewalk as he waited. Suddenly a shirt slammed into his hand with force. He had used his power to call to a shirt from the office. Luckily he knew the exact placement of the clothing, and therefore how to move it around in the air until it would reach his hand.
Sliding it down over his chest, he noticed a few ladies placed oddly along the street. Each was beautiful in their own way.
Suddenly a boom sounded. Turning his head he watched as a hundred men swarmed the streets, blasters in hand. These were soldiers not just every day people. Mercenaries possibly, sure, but at least not men he knew. Ducking back behind a wall, the young man sent his sense out for what he could do in this situation. It could mean his death, sure but he wanted to help the people around if he was able. He also quickly sent a telepathic warning to those in his companies doors, to lock them and not open them for anyone but him, then he ended with a password he would use to open and prove himself.
[member="Lakura Salim"]