Jarnt
10-11-2007, 03:28 PM
Username: Jarnt
➥ Ｇ．ＥＮＥＲＡＬｉＺＡＴｉＯＮ ：：
❝ Such an oddity ．．．❞
Name: Jarnt 'Ruere' Ragiri
Gender: Male
Age: 21
School: Higashi High
School Clubs:
➝ Ｃooking club － ✖〘ＱｕｉＴ〙
➝ Ｋarate club － ✖〘ＱｕｉＴ〙
➝ Ａstronomy club － ✖〘ＱｕｉＴ〙
Skill Stats:
Stamina: 130.
Strength: 205.
Defense: 105.
Speed: 120.
Total Skill Points: 560.
Status: S - Class
Road: Bloody Road
A-T Information:
The ebony haired male has always possessed the most pallid and natural looking Treks in his time; his unfortunate style of riding always ended with redecorating the materials a bloody liquer of bodily fluid. That however, has changed; he now dons his treks with a newly fitted ruby red trim that streamlines over a dark ebony base, the shine remains a solid presence indicating that he likes to keep them somewhat clean. There's only a few indications of personalisation over their frame, on one side is engraved in a silverish latin is Veritas, and on the other is Impera.➥ Ｇ．ＵｉＳＥ ＥＸＨｉＢｉＴ ：： ❝Care for a peek?❞
http://img403.imageshack.us/img403/882/26056128.png
Eye Colour: Aquatic Blue
Hair Colour: Inky Ebony
Skin Tone: Fair – Now a little more tanned.
Height/Weight: 181cm 62kg
Blood-type: O
- Overall Appearance:
A creamy coffee coloured epidermis, the skin being somewhat slightly tanned. A compact muscular frame making him at first, appear seemingly slender. However, once undraped, the hellishly brutal results of his torment and training are revealed through toned, ripped muscle, along with fading marks of excoriations across his back and torso, each excruciating moment, leaving reminders for him to remember. Many parts of Jarnt’s appearance change quite often, he never keeps to the same look for too long, fresh, unique and interesting, that’s how he likes to keep it. His belt, however; never changes. A long, black leather strip that appears quite thin, which always bears the buckle of Jarnt’s current team. His clothes are never the same, though his tastes do pursue towards those of vests, with an overlay of a jacket. For his legs, he usually wears jeans, black, dark blues, and other dusky colours. However, under his fabrics of clothing, on his warm semi-tanned flesh; lay some old reminders of bad choices, and invaluable experiences. Across his left arm, above the elbow; on the bicep, stretching up to his shoulder rests a deep scar of slightly discoloured skin. A memento obtained from a fight against a slightly pissed-off Thunder Queen, long ago.
His jet black obsidian hair may even make him seem somewhat mysterious to the people around him. Raven strands that glistens with an ebony shine; grown to about mid-length as it brushes exquisitely over the back of his neck. Vibrantly colored, oceanic, aqua eyes; as ever-changing and unpredictable as the vast blue sea. Slothful at first sight, bearing a confident yet, unenthusiastic stride, Jarnt is one who tediously trudges, lost amidst a barren wasteland of boredom. Firstly being made out to be lazy, lackluster; a nocturne haired male of negligence, seemingly careless and unaware at all times. A useless visage he so lucidly displays, under the attire awaits a genuine individual of slyness, and sarcasm. It takes time, but it can be seen, Jarnt’s serious side, his face being almost too serene; the blatantly blunt and blank expression showing no hesitation or fear; a solemnized look. Neither a gaze of anger, or sadism, but instead; brutality and maturity, supposedly an ominous intimidation that rarely arises. Like most do, Jarnt has his mischievous and playful presentations, pieces that exert partial effort, in fueling his urge to act out to irritate or annoy another being.
➥ Ｕ．ＮＶｉＥＬＤＩＮＧ ＣＨＡＲｉＳＭＡ ：： ❝Want to see it through my eyes?❞
Likes 〘＋〙:
￭ Eating．
￭ Trying to get the highest score on all arcade games．[Grown out of.]
￭ Dismantling and fixing things．
￭ All forms of music, occasionally rock.
￭ Anything that’s edible．
￭ Anything that peaks his curiosity．
￭ The laidback less-serious people of the planet．
Dislikes〘ー〙:
￭ People who fight even though their opponent can’t fight back [Grown out of.]
￭ Mornings
￭ People with simplistic dreams
￭ Pungent smelling odors that leave a putrid scent jammed in the nostrils.
Hobbies〘＋〙:
￭ Watching the stars [Grown out of.]
￭ Listening to music.
￭ Sleeping
￭ Studying physics and astronomy.
Fears〘ー〙:
￭ Life threatening illnesses.
Goals:
The annhilation of the Organisation and the liberation of everyone trapped within.
Overall Personality:
Well, how would one sum up laziness beyond that of a blatant sloth? The easy-going, serenely seeming male holds the most unenthusiastic demeanour. With a slouched back; he walks down the streets; both hands encased within the pampered pockets by his sides. There is no severity in his verbal tone; even amongst the most hellish and macabre tragedies. Though, in no way is he even remotely apathetic, he either shows a lazy-like interest or a callous uncaring for the scenario. It all varies; instead, Jarnt appears as an oddity, bearing no solemn vehemence, unlike the past, whence his unprecedented ferocity was second to none. His sarcasm exists as a tormenting aspect, an irritating trait that acts as the solicit factor; enticing those around him. His calm, lulled charade is there constantly, even when insulted; Jarnt merely stands smiling, smirking. Not to mock, or belittle, but because the immaturity of the situation bores him absolutely.
The time Jarnt spent away from the Organisation, and from the entirety of Tokyo changed his demeanour quite a bit - what can be expected of the one ferocious fang king now? He's protective of the people he believes are on the right side, and to him - the right side - is any side that wants to take apart the Organisation piece by piece. A good number of his previous allies are people he stands by, even though they may be unsure of Jarnt's alleigance, he'll always aid them. It's unfathomable for him to consider himself as the strongest anymore, he understands his place more-so then anyone else in the Air Trek world - however, he still has an odd nature of never turning down a challenge that he deems truly exhilerating.
Jarnt's previous position as the #3 Extractor left him as an emeny of almost all riders, and because of this, he feels withdrawn, dismissed and unwanted. Needlessly to say, he outcasts himself, keeping great distance from people who could possibly be deemed his 'friends'.
➥ Ｄ．ＡＹＳ ｏＦ ＡＮＴｉＱＵｉＴＹ ：：
❝We all have a story to tell ...❞
Birthplace: Tokyo
Birthdate: April 13th
Birthtime: 9:13pm
Parents: Died when Jarnt was 7, Jarnt currently lives with his brother
Siblings: Brother - Kurono "Kola" Ragiri.
Overall History:
Jarnt’s parents died when he was seven, through an excruciating house fire, that left his home as charred ashes of nothingness. So he then moved in with his brother, Kola, who was twenty five at the time. Jarnt picked up his lazy ass nature through his brothers influence, unfortunately. Alas, Jarnt having to look-up and rely on his Brother, always being the bastard burden that he thought himself to be; it left the young boy with swelling, overwhelming urge to surpass his older flesh and blood. Now, Jarnt knew that Kola had started A.T long before he had even moved in with him, but as Jarnt knew nothing about it, his self-concerned mind couldn't care less. Until the day when he was casually walking down the road and heard a noise from above; looking up, he couldn't see much due to the sun, his eyes were then lost in amazement as the sight of an entire team or riders flew over the rooftops above. Yet, with that amazement, also came jealousy, with those emotions in heart, Jarnt pulled together all the cheap A.T parts he could. After assembling them; Jarnt took up Air Treck. He first used AT as nothing more than a way to get to around, like nothing more than a quicker way of travelling. One day he noticed a letter on Kola's door and opened it, that was when Jarnt learnt of Parts War, but unfortunately Jarnt had no idea what it was about, and so, he ended up using it as toilet paper. Another chiseled charm that Jarnt has worked and loaded much timely effort into; is his ability to play a melodic tune of tranquility on the Piano. One of his more secretive hobbies that he rarely shows amongst the public, he prefers to leave it packed away in the back of his mind.
Jarnt's parents were killed due to a fire which ended with his house being burnt to the ground. Whilst Jarnt was only seven when it happened; he still remembers the incident fairly well, as it is hard for anyone to forget the night their parents died. Having to always rely on his brother; Jarnt was often stressed. As he grew older he finally came to notice Kola's AT and one of the ways the money was being brought into the house. Kola, having rather advanced AT skills; usually made bets when he battled at the underground arena; using the winnings to help with their life style. But that wasn't that interested Jarnt at that point, after coming to realize such things Jarnt’s interest in AT became more then apparent. It wasn't long before he crafted a set of shabby AT from his brother’s parts. After that his liking for AT only grew, he often watched the battles in which his brother took part in, but that was all he ever did. It wasn't long before he wanted to do more than just watch. After taking a natural flow to how AT worked he began taking his AT with him everywhere using it from travelling to training.
The thought using the object as a means for fighting always formed a knot deep in Jarnt’s gut; there was only the feeling of cowardice. He had nothing, not a trace of talent; he wouldn’t even allow the thought of becoming a storm rider cross his mind. However, that was before having his eyes locked onto the scene of a storm rider battle, with a gaze that refused to be budged; he was amazed at the sight. The glory granted to each rider as they made their fluid movements through the air were enough to make his heart skip a beat, like a switch, an instinct was turned on making his desire to be just like them, if not better that much more intense. The image undeniably was engraved into his memory, in a place never to be forgotten, consumed by his own urges his attitude towards riding from that day on was warped, the peace and fear was void. His riding changed, mimicked that of a rabid dog, however that was only until he was show otherwise. A young cocky rider would quite easily attract the attention of riders that would find ecstasy in putting him in his place. Left bloody, beaten, and drowning in his own self pity, it was at that point he was hit by reminiscence.
His body, battered and bruised was somehow pulled to its feet using whatever energy that was left in his corpse like being. The bones beneath his skin creaked, numb and dazed he limped back to a place of sanctuary, his home. His pride forbid him for letting others know of what events took place, his torn, ripped clothes were disposed off, preventing suspicion. With what little self confidence he had left, Jarnt tried to bring himself to ride again, the pain that came from putting on his wheels was unbearable, even though his wounds had healed, his traumatized mind was being pushed to the limits of his sanity. His gut wrenching experience put fear into him, causing him to think of Air Treck as weapons, capable of savagely beating opponents to within inches of their worthless, pathetic lives. His value of human life was sent plummeting, revenge wasn’t what drove him, and instead it just made him more aware of how the world worked. His road was chosen at that moment, whether it was subconsciously decided or not, that question wasn’t going to be answered. However he became much more laid back after the incident, easily allowing himself to sleep more without worry or regret for mistakes. Always looking so calm, collected and boring when out and about, his docile appearance hid his seething bloodlust as a rider, always having vague thoughts during school, due to his active nightlife; he spends the majority of his school time sleeping off his tired complex.
Through sleeping in school has its drawbacks, Jarnt suffers from average to slightly below average grades; in most aspects. His ignorance towards particular topics was subject to punishment, almost always, they gave him detention. Only stupidly did they leave him in a room where he could sleep his hours away without having to take part in any curricular activities. Yet, his grades and scores in most subjects were standard; oddly enough, Jarnt possesses abnormally high grades in Physics. His time dedicated to that lone category was astonishing; as he spent more-or-less three years of his younger life studying at night; until his eyes became blatantly bloodshot. While fixating and focusing large hourly lumps of his time absorbing information he gathers from all possible sources. It left the school Teachers and educational director’s awe struck. It also brought cause for thinking of all Jarnt’s other results as being undeniably questionable.
After the initial fight against the Wind King Naoji, Jarnt was only seen once, on the pier with with one such Kitty Valentine before he vanished from the Tokyo Air Trek scene. He left Japan, leading the Organisation on a wild goose-chase, his time away from Japan was thoroughly painful as his first reappearance was at the American close-doors Tournament arena, where a number of rich officials were pitting top-tier american riders against one-another in order to offer some solid, illegal entertainment - needless to say, the arena was exposed to the Ex-Fang King and an Extractor, both of which put on a destructive display of their prowess in riding. Again, after the events both vanished from existence, as if the occurance had never happened. Several months later, a similar event took place amongst the England, London dash tournament track - all these events, of which were sponsored by investors of the Organisation. Jarnt seemingly acted as a thorn, a painstakingly irate obstacle that the Organisation couldn't ignore. Which, ultimately, led him back to Japan, the heart of their operation - that was where the action was. ➥ Ｒ．ＥＭＮＡＮＴＳ ：：
❝Anything else you wish to know?❞
Extra:
￭ Right handed.
￭ Holds bitter opinions of other Bloody Road Riders.
￭ Plays the Piano.
Role-play Sample:
Quote:
His aqua eyes were dimed orbs of a bottomless abyss, they stared on with a never-changing gaze. All sound depleted to a mere murmur, the hot streaming sensation that previously trickled down his hands had vanished. His mind was set, entirely fixated and focused on one single entity. He no longer needed a thought, his body acted on instinct and whim. The taste of the ecstatic carnal ecstasy flooded his fierce state of mind. The smell, the taste, the sight, it was all in the air. Overwhelming everything entirely, he longed to see the crimson sparkle dance in the moonlight of the day’s most melodramatic of midnights. However, within an instant, Jarnt’s trance was tarnished and destroyed. His left leg’s shin now possessed a heated soreness about it, a most unorthodox feeling. His aqua capsules were quick to bolt open, not in shock or fear, but with an intense excitement. An unrivalled curiosity exploded forth, a dam of liquid ferocity followed by imminent bloodlust. Who would o’ thought? He let his mind dabble and ponder for a second too long, as a violently powerful palm thrust forward. It connected; knocking the air from Jarnt’s lungs with a pounding thud. His overly tense frame took the full blunt of Lucian’s accursed palm.
The forceful impact took him several steps backwards. Parting his lips, he inhaled a breath of the rushing air, filling his lungs once more. Everything had changed; the whole situation had taken a severe alteration within a matter of moments. Since when had his prey become a predator? He couldn’t afford to be lax anymore; not against these two. Clamping his jaw together, his teeth gritted with a grind as he slid his lips into a smirk of total salacity. Jarnt overheard the demanding phase muttered from one to another by none other than Lucian. There was no doubt that the two were anything less than mere acquaintances, yet nor anything more than just friends. He felt the tension between to two; with so much racing around the three; Jarnt didn’t know how to act. He felt infuriated yet, infused with an undying urge to sate his bursting desires. A monstrosity at mind he may have been, but, Jarnt still held tightly to whatever honour he had left. Which left him at a crossroad of uncertainty, what the hell am I thinking? This wasn’t a time to be letting such distracting thoughts tamper with his hellish actions. Sooner would he damn himself to a life as a cripple than to let such a delicious opportunity pass him by! The bones present in his hands creaked; his knuckles grew white as he clenched his fingers from open palm to fist once more.
“Not that I want to interrupt or anything, but, don’t you have time for that shit later?” He growled with both excitement and anger lingering in his voice. He was not going to wait, no way in hell. His legs, from the calf to thigh clenched; followed by a burst forward. To jump while on the train he found to be…somewhat moronic, which meant his feet were doomed to stay fastened to the train-tops roof. His arm drew back and his fist hardened to a brick-like state. Words weren’t wanted, this was Jarnt’s way of returning Lucian’s little love-tap. He launched it towards the male Riders chest; with an expression shot towards the female, as if to say; don’t you dare interfere.
➥ Ｇ．ＥＮＥＲＡＬｉＺＡＴｉＯＮ ：：
❝ Such an oddity ．．．❞
Name: Jarnt 'Ruere' Ragiri
Gender: Male
Age: 21
School: Higashi High
School Clubs:
➝ Ｃooking club － ✖〘ＱｕｉＴ〙
➝ Ｋarate club － ✖〘ＱｕｉＴ〙
➝ Ａstronomy club － ✖〘ＱｕｉＴ〙
Skill Stats:
Stamina: 130.
Strength: 205.
Defense: 105.
Speed: 120.
Total Skill Points: 560.
Status: S - Class
Road: Bloody Road
A-T Information:
The ebony haired male has always possessed the most pallid and natural looking Treks in his time; his unfortunate style of riding always ended with redecorating the materials a bloody liquer of bodily fluid. That however, has changed; he now dons his treks with a newly fitted ruby red trim that streamlines over a dark ebony base, the shine remains a solid presence indicating that he likes to keep them somewhat clean. There's only a few indications of personalisation over their frame, on one side is engraved in a silverish latin is Veritas, and on the other is Impera.➥ Ｇ．ＵｉＳＥ ＥＸＨｉＢｉＴ ：： ❝Care for a peek?❞
http://img403.imageshack.us/img403/882/26056128.png
Eye Colour: Aquatic Blue
Hair Colour: Inky Ebony
Skin Tone: Fair – Now a little more tanned.
Height/Weight: 181cm 62kg
Blood-type: O
- Overall Appearance:
A creamy coffee coloured epidermis, the skin being somewhat slightly tanned. A compact muscular frame making him at first, appear seemingly slender. However, once undraped, the hellishly brutal results of his torment and training are revealed through toned, ripped muscle, along with fading marks of excoriations across his back and torso, each excruciating moment, leaving reminders for him to remember. Many parts of Jarnt’s appearance change quite often, he never keeps to the same look for too long, fresh, unique and interesting, that’s how he likes to keep it. His belt, however; never changes. A long, black leather strip that appears quite thin, which always bears the buckle of Jarnt’s current team. His clothes are never the same, though his tastes do pursue towards those of vests, with an overlay of a jacket. For his legs, he usually wears jeans, black, dark blues, and other dusky colours. However, under his fabrics of clothing, on his warm semi-tanned flesh; lay some old reminders of bad choices, and invaluable experiences. Across his left arm, above the elbow; on the bicep, stretching up to his shoulder rests a deep scar of slightly discoloured skin. A memento obtained from a fight against a slightly pissed-off Thunder Queen, long ago.
His jet black obsidian hair may even make him seem somewhat mysterious to the people around him. Raven strands that glistens with an ebony shine; grown to about mid-length as it brushes exquisitely over the back of his neck. Vibrantly colored, oceanic, aqua eyes; as ever-changing and unpredictable as the vast blue sea. Slothful at first sight, bearing a confident yet, unenthusiastic stride, Jarnt is one who tediously trudges, lost amidst a barren wasteland of boredom. Firstly being made out to be lazy, lackluster; a nocturne haired male of negligence, seemingly careless and unaware at all times. A useless visage he so lucidly displays, under the attire awaits a genuine individual of slyness, and sarcasm. It takes time, but it can be seen, Jarnt’s serious side, his face being almost too serene; the blatantly blunt and blank expression showing no hesitation or fear; a solemnized look. Neither a gaze of anger, or sadism, but instead; brutality and maturity, supposedly an ominous intimidation that rarely arises. Like most do, Jarnt has his mischievous and playful presentations, pieces that exert partial effort, in fueling his urge to act out to irritate or annoy another being.
➥ Ｕ．ＮＶｉＥＬＤＩＮＧ ＣＨＡＲｉＳＭＡ ：： ❝Want to see it through my eyes?❞
Likes 〘＋〙:
￭ Eating．
￭ Trying to get the highest score on all arcade games．[Grown out of.]
￭ Dismantling and fixing things．
￭ All forms of music, occasionally rock.
￭ Anything that’s edible．
￭ Anything that peaks his curiosity．
￭ The laidback less-serious people of the planet．
Dislikes〘ー〙:
￭ People who fight even though their opponent can’t fight back [Grown out of.]
￭ Mornings
￭ People with simplistic dreams
￭ Pungent smelling odors that leave a putrid scent jammed in the nostrils.
Hobbies〘＋〙:
￭ Watching the stars [Grown out of.]
￭ Listening to music.
￭ Sleeping
￭ Studying physics and astronomy.
Fears〘ー〙:
￭ Life threatening illnesses.
Goals:
The annhilation of the Organisation and the liberation of everyone trapped within.
Overall Personality:
Well, how would one sum up laziness beyond that of a blatant sloth? The easy-going, serenely seeming male holds the most unenthusiastic demeanour. With a slouched back; he walks down the streets; both hands encased within the pampered pockets by his sides. There is no severity in his verbal tone; even amongst the most hellish and macabre tragedies. Though, in no way is he even remotely apathetic, he either shows a lazy-like interest or a callous uncaring for the scenario. It all varies; instead, Jarnt appears as an oddity, bearing no solemn vehemence, unlike the past, whence his unprecedented ferocity was second to none. His sarcasm exists as a tormenting aspect, an irritating trait that acts as the solicit factor; enticing those around him. His calm, lulled charade is there constantly, even when insulted; Jarnt merely stands smiling, smirking. Not to mock, or belittle, but because the immaturity of the situation bores him absolutely.
The time Jarnt spent away from the Organisation, and from the entirety of Tokyo changed his demeanour quite a bit - what can be expected of the one ferocious fang king now? He's protective of the people he believes are on the right side, and to him - the right side - is any side that wants to take apart the Organisation piece by piece. A good number of his previous allies are people he stands by, even though they may be unsure of Jarnt's alleigance, he'll always aid them. It's unfathomable for him to consider himself as the strongest anymore, he understands his place more-so then anyone else in the Air Trek world - however, he still has an odd nature of never turning down a challenge that he deems truly exhilerating.
Jarnt's previous position as the #3 Extractor left him as an emeny of almost all riders, and because of this, he feels withdrawn, dismissed and unwanted. Needlessly to say, he outcasts himself, keeping great distance from people who could possibly be deemed his 'friends'.
➥ Ｄ．ＡＹＳ ｏＦ ＡＮＴｉＱＵｉＴＹ ：：
❝We all have a story to tell ...❞
Birthplace: Tokyo
Birthdate: April 13th
Birthtime: 9:13pm
Parents: Died when Jarnt was 7, Jarnt currently lives with his brother
Siblings: Brother - Kurono "Kola" Ragiri.
Overall History:
Jarnt’s parents died when he was seven, through an excruciating house fire, that left his home as charred ashes of nothingness. So he then moved in with his brother, Kola, who was twenty five at the time. Jarnt picked up his lazy ass nature through his brothers influence, unfortunately. Alas, Jarnt having to look-up and rely on his Brother, always being the bastard burden that he thought himself to be; it left the young boy with swelling, overwhelming urge to surpass his older flesh and blood. Now, Jarnt knew that Kola had started A.T long before he had even moved in with him, but as Jarnt knew nothing about it, his self-concerned mind couldn't care less. Until the day when he was casually walking down the road and heard a noise from above; looking up, he couldn't see much due to the sun, his eyes were then lost in amazement as the sight of an entire team or riders flew over the rooftops above. Yet, with that amazement, also came jealousy, with those emotions in heart, Jarnt pulled together all the cheap A.T parts he could. After assembling them; Jarnt took up Air Treck. He first used AT as nothing more than a way to get to around, like nothing more than a quicker way of travelling. One day he noticed a letter on Kola's door and opened it, that was when Jarnt learnt of Parts War, but unfortunately Jarnt had no idea what it was about, and so, he ended up using it as toilet paper. Another chiseled charm that Jarnt has worked and loaded much timely effort into; is his ability to play a melodic tune of tranquility on the Piano. One of his more secretive hobbies that he rarely shows amongst the public, he prefers to leave it packed away in the back of his mind.
Jarnt's parents were killed due to a fire which ended with his house being burnt to the ground. Whilst Jarnt was only seven when it happened; he still remembers the incident fairly well, as it is hard for anyone to forget the night their parents died. Having to always rely on his brother; Jarnt was often stressed. As he grew older he finally came to notice Kola's AT and one of the ways the money was being brought into the house. Kola, having rather advanced AT skills; usually made bets when he battled at the underground arena; using the winnings to help with their life style. But that wasn't that interested Jarnt at that point, after coming to realize such things Jarnt’s interest in AT became more then apparent. It wasn't long before he crafted a set of shabby AT from his brother’s parts. After that his liking for AT only grew, he often watched the battles in which his brother took part in, but that was all he ever did. It wasn't long before he wanted to do more than just watch. After taking a natural flow to how AT worked he began taking his AT with him everywhere using it from travelling to training.
The thought using the object as a means for fighting always formed a knot deep in Jarnt’s gut; there was only the feeling of cowardice. He had nothing, not a trace of talent; he wouldn’t even allow the thought of becoming a storm rider cross his mind. However, that was before having his eyes locked onto the scene of a storm rider battle, with a gaze that refused to be budged; he was amazed at the sight. The glory granted to each rider as they made their fluid movements through the air were enough to make his heart skip a beat, like a switch, an instinct was turned on making his desire to be just like them, if not better that much more intense. The image undeniably was engraved into his memory, in a place never to be forgotten, consumed by his own urges his attitude towards riding from that day on was warped, the peace and fear was void. His riding changed, mimicked that of a rabid dog, however that was only until he was show otherwise. A young cocky rider would quite easily attract the attention of riders that would find ecstasy in putting him in his place. Left bloody, beaten, and drowning in his own self pity, it was at that point he was hit by reminiscence.
His body, battered and bruised was somehow pulled to its feet using whatever energy that was left in his corpse like being. The bones beneath his skin creaked, numb and dazed he limped back to a place of sanctuary, his home. His pride forbid him for letting others know of what events took place, his torn, ripped clothes were disposed off, preventing suspicion. With what little self confidence he had left, Jarnt tried to bring himself to ride again, the pain that came from putting on his wheels was unbearable, even though his wounds had healed, his traumatized mind was being pushed to the limits of his sanity. His gut wrenching experience put fear into him, causing him to think of Air Treck as weapons, capable of savagely beating opponents to within inches of their worthless, pathetic lives. His value of human life was sent plummeting, revenge wasn’t what drove him, and instead it just made him more aware of how the world worked. His road was chosen at that moment, whether it was subconsciously decided or not, that question wasn’t going to be answered. However he became much more laid back after the incident, easily allowing himself to sleep more without worry or regret for mistakes. Always looking so calm, collected and boring when out and about, his docile appearance hid his seething bloodlust as a rider, always having vague thoughts during school, due to his active nightlife; he spends the majority of his school time sleeping off his tired complex.
Through sleeping in school has its drawbacks, Jarnt suffers from average to slightly below average grades; in most aspects. His ignorance towards particular topics was subject to punishment, almost always, they gave him detention. Only stupidly did they leave him in a room where he could sleep his hours away without having to take part in any curricular activities. Yet, his grades and scores in most subjects were standard; oddly enough, Jarnt possesses abnormally high grades in Physics. His time dedicated to that lone category was astonishing; as he spent more-or-less three years of his younger life studying at night; until his eyes became blatantly bloodshot. While fixating and focusing large hourly lumps of his time absorbing information he gathers from all possible sources. It left the school Teachers and educational director’s awe struck. It also brought cause for thinking of all Jarnt’s other results as being undeniably questionable.
After the initial fight against the Wind King Naoji, Jarnt was only seen once, on the pier with with one such Kitty Valentine before he vanished from the Tokyo Air Trek scene. He left Japan, leading the Organisation on a wild goose-chase, his time away from Japan was thoroughly painful as his first reappearance was at the American close-doors Tournament arena, where a number of rich officials were pitting top-tier american riders against one-another in order to offer some solid, illegal entertainment - needless to say, the arena was exposed to the Ex-Fang King and an Extractor, both of which put on a destructive display of their prowess in riding. Again, after the events both vanished from existence, as if the occurance had never happened. Several months later, a similar event took place amongst the England, London dash tournament track - all these events, of which were sponsored by investors of the Organisation. Jarnt seemingly acted as a thorn, a painstakingly irate obstacle that the Organisation couldn't ignore. Which, ultimately, led him back to Japan, the heart of their operation - that was where the action was. ➥ Ｒ．ＥＭＮＡＮＴＳ ：：
❝Anything else you wish to know?❞
Extra:
￭ Right handed.
￭ Holds bitter opinions of other Bloody Road Riders.
￭ Plays the Piano.
Role-play Sample:
Quote:
His aqua eyes were dimed orbs of a bottomless abyss, they stared on with a never-changing gaze. All sound depleted to a mere murmur, the hot streaming sensation that previously trickled down his hands had vanished. His mind was set, entirely fixated and focused on one single entity. He no longer needed a thought, his body acted on instinct and whim. The taste of the ecstatic carnal ecstasy flooded his fierce state of mind. The smell, the taste, the sight, it was all in the air. Overwhelming everything entirely, he longed to see the crimson sparkle dance in the moonlight of the day’s most melodramatic of midnights. However, within an instant, Jarnt’s trance was tarnished and destroyed. His left leg’s shin now possessed a heated soreness about it, a most unorthodox feeling. His aqua capsules were quick to bolt open, not in shock or fear, but with an intense excitement. An unrivalled curiosity exploded forth, a dam of liquid ferocity followed by imminent bloodlust. Who would o’ thought? He let his mind dabble and ponder for a second too long, as a violently powerful palm thrust forward. It connected; knocking the air from Jarnt’s lungs with a pounding thud. His overly tense frame took the full blunt of Lucian’s accursed palm.
The forceful impact took him several steps backwards. Parting his lips, he inhaled a breath of the rushing air, filling his lungs once more. Everything had changed; the whole situation had taken a severe alteration within a matter of moments. Since when had his prey become a predator? He couldn’t afford to be lax anymore; not against these two. Clamping his jaw together, his teeth gritted with a grind as he slid his lips into a smirk of total salacity. Jarnt overheard the demanding phase muttered from one to another by none other than Lucian. There was no doubt that the two were anything less than mere acquaintances, yet nor anything more than just friends. He felt the tension between to two; with so much racing around the three; Jarnt didn’t know how to act. He felt infuriated yet, infused with an undying urge to sate his bursting desires. A monstrosity at mind he may have been, but, Jarnt still held tightly to whatever honour he had left. Which left him at a crossroad of uncertainty, what the hell am I thinking? This wasn’t a time to be letting such distracting thoughts tamper with his hellish actions. Sooner would he damn himself to a life as a cripple than to let such a delicious opportunity pass him by! The bones present in his hands creaked; his knuckles grew white as he clenched his fingers from open palm to fist once more.
“Not that I want to interrupt or anything, but, don’t you have time for that shit later?” He growled with both excitement and anger lingering in his voice. He was not going to wait, no way in hell. His legs, from the calf to thigh clenched; followed by a burst forward. To jump while on the train he found to be…somewhat moronic, which meant his feet were doomed to stay fastened to the train-tops roof. His arm drew back and his fist hardened to a brick-like state. Words weren’t wanted, this was Jarnt’s way of returning Lucian’s little love-tap. He launched it towards the male Riders chest; with an expression shot towards the female, as if to say; don’t you dare interfere.