New in town (Cancelled)

Quill steps out of the air ship and sees the academy. He thought "I'm going to hate it here". He then walked to the dorm the assigned him. He opens the door and sees that he's the only on there. The dorm had 4 beds Quill took the most distant bed away from the others and set down his weapon, bags, and violin case. Quill doesn't hear anyone knock for a long time but heard a large knock on his door. He thought "must be a bloke that is staying in the same room as me". Quill opens the door and sees his first ever roommate. Quill stared at him for sometime waiting for him to speak. Quill said "Hello you must be my roommate" Quill isnt sure if he said something he shouldnt of or not.But Quill open the door more and let him in not knowing who this guy is and if he was a ally or a foe.

Dongmin sighed before knocking on the door, making sure his hair was out of his eyes and his clothes were straight so that he could make a good impression. Hope I'm at the right room, he thought wryly, looking up as the door opened. It would suck if I wasn't... So this is my new roommate? He seems... different. Shifting his weight, Dongmin studied the other before realizing he should probably say hello, and coughed. "Hello... May I come in?" He tried for a smile, but it came out psychotic, so he let his mouth shut with a clop. In no way was psycopath a good first impression. "Er...." I'll just leave it at that. Feeling like an idiot, he shifted his weight, toying with the end of his long braid. This is why people made him uncomfortable. Always watching. Always judging. I just hope he's not the overly chatty type.

"Yes come in make your self at home" Quill though to him self "this guy is weird better keep an eye on him" Quill shuts the door "so who are you im Quill" Quill looks at him for a sec then goes to his violin case and puts it on a shelf. He try to think of something to do but i doesnt was to play his violin in front of this guy. Quill looks at what he's wearing and doesnt know what that style of clothing comes from. "So where are you from also. Sorry if im asking a lot of questions im just wandering" Quill doesnt hear knocking for a little bit then hears a louder knock on the door. "YA YA IM COMING IM COMING DONT GET YOUR PANTIES IN A WAUD." Quill opens the door and sees that its another roommate but Quill took his time to look at him and then let him in.

Dongmin entered slowly, moving toward the bed against the far wall and setting his suitcase down. "Thank you," he murmured. Registering that Quill had spoken again, he glanced over at the other and then murmured, "My name's Dongmin." He noticed the violin case, and was momentarily curious; but then he turned back to his own belongings, opening his suitcase and pulling out his sketchbook. "I'm from... far away," he replied softly. "It's fine, I suppose. I'm just... not fond of speaking to others."

Where am I going to hide this and my notebooks? he wondered, gazing at the cover of the sketchbook. I don't like people seeing my stuff.

Deciding under his pillow was as good a place as any other, he shoved the book under his pillow and began setting his clothes -replicas of the same outfit- on his bed. Pulling out his headphones a moment later, he stared at them for a few heartbeats and shoved them under his pillow as well.

"Hey Dongmin im Quill and i have one rule dont touch my stuff" Quill puts his large bladed great sword in front of him. Quill starts to sharpen his sword and saids "so whats your weapon anyway Dongmin?" Quill just looks at him. He appears to be normal but he finds something about him strange. Quill them put his sword down. H e hears the door being knocked on "Hm that must be are other roommate" He saw his next room mate and saw that he look older then Quill. Quill invited him in. He doesn't seem to be friendly but what did Quill know the only other person he knew for the last 10 years was his teacher and Quill doesn't even know her first name or what was her weapon. But Quill knew that he was going to be a pain to be around even if he's not Quill's room mate.

It was a fine day out. Birds were singing, the sun was shining, a gentle breeze was rolling in from the peaks, still capped with some dirty snow even this late into Spring, and that mouse beneath Sol's left and only eye, was surely going to swell to the size of a lag-bolt.

A fine day indeed, not half an hour after stepping off the airship and he'd already been in a fight. Well, that filthy faunus should have known better than to identify the one eyed youth by the absolute worst of his many monikers, though perhaps headbutting the other fellow had been a bit excessive.

Sol grimaced, though for him that was little more than a stern frown. That goose-egg on his face was the least of the injuries he'd sustained, though it was the most painful by far, nearly worth the satisfaction of watching a detractor choke on his mindless words, almost...

He hefted his right arm, currently in a makeshift sling composed of the straps of his backpack, and resting against his chest, in an attempt to distribute the weight a bit more evenly, ultimately a vain one. He couldn't move that arm, not after someone had struck it as hard as they were able with a cudgel in order to urge the fingers to release the offending party's throat, but at least it didn't hurt. Oh he could tell something was broken, and he did not want to think too carefully about that grinding noise he heard whenever he tried to move it, but at least it didn't hurt.

He ground his teeth, and a trickle of steam flowed out of his nostrils. Off to a fine start at this new school it seemed. He wanted nothing more than to find his dorm room, put his feet up and try to forget where he was and why.

He came upon the number that central administrations had provided for his temporary accommodations, and gave a token knock upon the varnished oak, before clasping his meaty, and heavily calloused left paw around the doorknob and shouldering the door open.

The man that entered the room, already occupied by two others, was a dark and remarkable sight. Even ignoring the very obvious signs of a scuffle, the swollen bruise beneath his eye, the white of his uniform stained with dirt and torn besides, one arm in a sling, and the other missing it's sleeve up to the elbow, with dried blood on the knuckles, Sol still possessed ample qualities to command attention before even uttering a word.

His uniform, albeit ragged and stained, was immaculately tailored, closely hugged every curve of a pronounced physique that clearly favored athletic activities. A powerful chest spanning between broad shoulders, might have had a noble elegance, if not for the brutish condition of his person, and the definition in the muscle of his exposed arm and neck would not have looked out of place on war horse. He stood just shy of six feet tall, but the way he held himself, even disarrayed as he was, with back straight, head erect and chest thrust out, made him seem to be much taller.

A puckered scar peeked out from beneath an eyepatch that obscured much of the right side of his face, and his features were bold and composed of hard plains that could have been honed from granite.A golden eye, that almost smoldered with its own light surveyed the room and it's occupants from beneath a noble and stern brow. If he was impressed or displeased with what he saw, no clue of either was visible in the flat line of his broad lips and thick jaw.

He concealed his discontent to find the room occupied when he wanted nothing more at that moment than to be alone, and maintained a flat expression that was as cold as the alpine highlands of Mantle itself as he passed into the room. It had been his intention to pick a bed near one of the walls, but upon finding he was not the first to make such a decision, he picked the bed to the left of the window and immediately across from the door, before throwing his belongings down upon it.

Like their owner, the items in question were remarkable in a utilitarian fashion. A large duffel bag, more suited to a soldier than a student, thumped loudly with a muffled crinkling that implied many hard metallic objects within, and a sheathed sword, slightly curved and possessing a minimal hilt, chief among these items, but he also produced a small music player, a top of the line iScroll, a matching gilded cigar lighter and cigar case, and a set of small mechanical tools from the various pockets across his ragged waist-coat, all of which he organized on the table beside the bed in such perfect efficiency that one could have checked the sqare of every corner in the room by comparing it to that of his scroll. He did not remove the backpack that likely contained other possessions, because doing so would mean dismantling the makeshift sling that was currently supporting the weight of his right arm, which was bundled up tight in the dirty remains of a once white shirt.

He glanced at his bundled up arm, and then at the items laid out on the nightstand, and gave a growl as he grabbed up the cigar case, which he fumbled open with one hand, in such a way as to imply it was not an unfamiliar motion, but something he had only recently perfected, before collecting a half smoked cigar the width of his little finger from within. Once the unlit tube of tobacco had been grasped in the corner of his mouth, he grabbed the lighter and made his way to the window. He seated himself on the sill and then swung his legs out into the open air, casually looking indifferently down upon the multi-story drop as he lit the stubbed cigar and drew in a lungful of acrid smoke.

He sighed as dark, nearly black smoke billowed out from between his lips and nostrils, he seemed to relax somewhat, that is to say that his features now looked like they were carved of something slightly softer than the original granite. Sitting there, legs dangling over a fall that would be more than sufficiently lethal to a normal man, and slowly killing himself by way of the toxic smoke of an addictive plant, and it was still the best he'd felt all day.

Quill looks at him and sees that he is smoking a cigar. He said to him "hey dude you can smoke that in here because i dont want my stuff to smell like tobacco ok" Quill turns to Kim and ask him "do you know him because i dont know anyone here because for 10 years i've lived in the forest with my teach and have not seen another living soul for like 10 years" Quill starts to get irritated with the smoke and chucks the cigar out the window into the fount. Quill said "STOP SMOKING IN HERE OK" Quill's eyes where red not from rage but from the smoke from the cigar. He pulls out his violin and starts to play it for a while until he heard a 3rd and final knock on the door. Quill goes to open it but sees a face that looks unfamiliar to him.

"The same goes for you," Dongmin replied. Hearing the next question, Dongmin held up his sheathed sword before laying it back on the bed, still not turning to look at Quill. Speaking bored him, and he didn't exactly care for people all that much. They were all the same, anyway.

Once he heard the door open, he turned, glancing at the new arrival, large dark red eyes blinking in disinterest; he watched the stranger cross the room to one of the beds. The man looked tough; Dongmin blinked. Something about him reminded him of his former leader; he stiffened, trying to resist the urge to go for his weapon. When the stranger sat on the window ledge, Dongmin turned back to his packing, but his senses were on hyper alert. Calm down, Dongmin. It's not that person.

He himself didn't mind the cigar smoke; he ignored it, continuing to unpack. Hearing Quill speaking to him again, he glanced back over his shoulder without turning his head and murmured, "I don't know anyone here. I'm from very far away." Turning back to his belongings once more, he sighed in frustration when Quill yelled at the newcomer. It didn't look like things would be nice and pleasant in their dorm.

Relaxing to the soft sound of the violin, Dongmin closed his eyes for a moment, stepping to the side but catching himself. He didn't dance in front of people, and there were two absolute strangers in the room, one whom he didn't even know the name of.

Hearing the knock on the door, Dongmin glanced over when Quill went to open it. However, from the angle, he couldn't see the newcomer's face. Who is it? Not a loud, obnoxious person, I'd hope.

It didn't take long for one of the schmucks to start yelling at Sol. He could tell from the voice that it was the one with dark hair and a bleeding ascot of all things slung around his pencil neck. Sol did not appear to be listening to anything but the wind, but he heard every word the others said, and could roughly estimate their positions in the room. It was a habit, something he couldn't turn off any longer than he could hold his breath.

It was hardly a surprise, after all, in this day when the risk associated with habitually inhaling smoke were well documented, it seemed every time he lit one up, someone was there to berate him for it, and given that the petulant country bumpkin, who spoke of growing up secluded in the woods as if it were something to be proud of, had a better reason than most to take umbrage, it was understandable that he might voice his opinion. Not that Sol cared in the slightest. It was Sol's room as much as it was the others' and he was going to make himself at home.

Then the nuisance was shouting, and Sol removed the cigar from his lips and glanced over his shoulder, shooting a golden eyed glare that was a cold as the touch of death back at the ascot wearing fop. The qualities that gaze shared with light reflecting off of the sharpest point of a blade were too numerous to count.

"You gonna make me, tough guy?" He growled, voice every bit as bitter and smokey as his cigar, rumbling up from his chest like the first tremors of an impending volcanic eruption, volume low but filling the entire room like a physical presence.

Quill looks back from the door before opening it he looks at the titan of a man who thinks hes all that. Quill said "if you want to fight fine but not in here someone us actually have stuff in here they dont want to break" the knocking stops Quill opens the door and see it wasnt a student but someone had left a package for one of them. It was for Quill, he opened it and saw it was just something he had sent himself before going to this horrible school. Quill put it with the rest of his stuff. A picture fell to the ground of his teacher but Quill didnt see it at the time and said to his room mates "im going out tell the other guy thats my bed" and he walked out. Quill then exited the room. From there he started to walk to the forest near the school and started to clime a tree.

Dongmin sighed inaudibly at the two, glaring at Quill for being so rude -he might not like people, but Dongmin, at least, was polite- and took a deep breath to clear his lungs of any residual smoke (it's not like he liked it). Pushing his empty suitcase under his bed and then placing his belongings on the shelf built into the wall beside his bed, he lay down and stared up at the ceiling. "..." He had no idea what to do or say, and he didn't really want to start a conversation. People irritated him. When he was irritated, he tended to break things. (Usually people.) Guess that's a similarity between me and him.... he thought wryly. Both of us break people.

Sighing, the red head turned over and stared at the wall, red eyes blinking in disdain. He was tired. It had been a long day. He needed to rest, but his mind had other plans. Pulling out his sketchbook and grabbing a pencil from the shelf, he began drawing, occasionally erasing lines or chewing on his pencil as he thought. Stupid line. You're not supposed to be there.

"Idiot..." Sol grunted with a roll of his eye as the screaming child departed, before turning back to gaze out at the academy.

Initial impressions of his new roommates were mixed for the sullen cyclops. That brat in the ascot acted very much like had been raised in the woods by some eccentric hermit, and did not seem to understand the basics of his environment or even how to interact with those living in it, while the other had yet to say much of anything, but at least he was minding his own business and not throwing a tantrum like a petulant child.

The room grew very silent after that, and only the brief and random sound of a pencil skritching onion paper served any indication that Sol was not, as his name might imply, actually alone. The sound was... unnerving for some reason, and the window clattered as he shut it behind where he sat, sealing himself and the smoke of his cigar outside for the time being.

By the time Sol's cigar had burned down to a stub, his mood had returned to that icy indifference that was what passed for neutrality, and though it could hardly be called an improvement over the open undirected hostility that had marked his entrance, it was notably much less aggressive. The storm of fire that had coiled in his chest had burned itself out and left a sensation of emptiness behind, and as he opened the window and let himself back into the dorm, he felt very much like a marionette on strings, or one of those hollow nesting dolls he'd seen being sold in a Vale market once upon a time. Anger was a strange emotion that way, in how it wiped away everything, but in the moment burned brightly enough to make even the harshest polar plain seem bearable.

Heavy steel capped boots touched down on the floorboards as he observed the room more closely than he had on his initial entrance, and noted the red headed youth and his sketchbook.

"Which bed did he say was his?" Sol wondered aloud, voice still a dull rumble but lacking the heat it had possessed earlier, "This one right?"

He made his way towards the unattended bed, claimed by the ascot wearing moron who was nowhere to be seen, and peeled back the down comforter covering it, before jamming the remains of his snuffed cigar into the bed sheets and then remaking the bed once more. He turned on his heel, further grinding the discarded, and unnoticed, photograph beneath the toe of his right combat boot, before moving over to where his belongings were array beside his own bed.

Bedsprings creaked as he sat down, and rummaged through his duffel bag, awkwardly producing a small leather-bound case that unfolded to reveal an assortment of tools and small parts. He fumbled with a mechanical screwdriver, the fingers of his left hand being poorly suited to the task of manipulating such a fine object, and he grumbled in frustration as he was forced to capture the tool against his seated hip just to get a good grasp of it. He put the driver in his mouth and began unwrapping the sling around his right arm, allowing the numb limb to slump into his lap in a boneless bundle of rags. He seemed to struggle in untangling the mess using one hand, and was far too proud to ask assistance of the only other person present, a stranger at that, and simply contented himself with parting enough of the coiled fabric to permit the passage of the screw driver, which he used to limited success, to dig into the mysterious contents of that bundle, apparently searching for something, finding it, and wiggling the tool around with the sounds of whirring motors as the device began performing some function that was hidden by the layers of fabric.

Quill enters the room after a while from walking. He sees the giant man messing with something but doesn't know what it is. He then looked at his bed knowing something had been done to it. He then started walking to it but look down and saw his only picture of his teacher who was his only family and trained him for 10 years in the forest was almost destroyed. He picked it up with rage leaking out of his body. He almost set the room on fire but he calm himself before that. He turns to the giant. "Did you do this" Showing him the nearly destroyed photo. Then before he could respond he checks his bed and finds a cigar stub in his bed. Like the ragging teen he is he grabs the man by the throat and slams him into the wall. "I've had it up to here with you, I don't like those who mess with my stuff. So if you don't want to end up being a boiling corpse i suggest you stop touching my stuff GOT IT." He lets go of the man and throws the stub out the window. He started to cry a little but did not sob. "why couldn't you stay" He said talking to the almost destroyed picture. He said one more thing to the man "Don't touch my stuff again or i will destroy your stuff"

"Easy..." Sol murmured to himself as he felt the something within the bundle of fabric beginning to resist the pressure he was applying, informing him that the tool gripped in the fingers of his left hand had found purchase.

Concentration gave his already severed expression a further intensity, that not even Quill, as he stormed back into the room and began ranting once mores, could break, and with one last twist of the screwdriver, he heard a quiet hiss, followed by a muffled whirring. Solomon had enough time to let out a sigh of relief, as he rolled his right shoulder around in it's socket, testing the recently regained mobility of said limb, as he placed the multi-tool down and beamed a subdued smile of satisfaction.

Sol had barely time to respond when the ascot wearing youth produced a destroyed Polaroid, that the one eyed stranger was genuinely seeing for the first time, and his surprise, not to mention the unforeseen physical strength of his assailant, was such that he did not even try to protect himself until he was hoisted off his feet by the neck and slammed against the wall. Not in a million  years would Sol have actually expected the blowhard to have enough of a spine to do something so brash, but at the same time he certainly seemed the sort to do something so foolish.

Sparks in diametric hues of blue and red scattered across the wall as Sol's aura roared to life like a field of smoldering scarlet flame and azure smoke, in a bid to absorb the majority of the impact, and instinctively the one eyed youth's left hand closed around Quill's wrist, not in an attempt to pry it lose, as doing so would just be a waste of valuable effort when he was already pinned against a wall, but in simply a bid to control it. Sol's gritted teeth became a wolfish grin, as he cut right through Quill's words mid sentence with a laugh that rose from his belly along with smoke flowing from between the gaps in his teeth.

He tucked his chin down as far as he could, again, not in an attempt to break free, merely to exert control over Quill's intruding grasp, and to further capture his wrist against his neck.

There was a good splinter of advice that Solomon had once heard, and it applied right then. "Never Lay Hands on a Man That You are Not Certain You Can Disable in One Strike, and Never if You Don't Intend to Do So." The logic of such an adage was simple really, in that once one began grappling with an opponent, one had to give up a fair amount of their options in a fight, not the least of which being the choice to actually disengage. Simply put, once you grabbed someone, you couldn't let go unless your target let you, or couldn't stop you, and in this case, Solomon very much intended to prevent Quill from letting go.

He adjusted the position of his left arm, by raising his elbow above the level of Quill's forearm, and allowing himself more leverage to push down against the other boy's wrist. Being that Quill had grabbed with his right hand, the majority of the force he would be able to exert would be towards his own core, and with just a slight modification of Sol's grip, he had eliminated the possibility of the other young man bringing the majority of his strength to bare in an attempt to escape. With his own arm nearly completely flexed, and Quill's completely straight as it was, Sol had much more leverage by simple mechanics, not to mention that Quill made the problem worse by trying to turn away, thus further extending an already over extended limb, and locking his arm between Sol's grip and the joint of his own shoulder.

Sol did not give the fool an opportunity to realize any of the many critical mistakes that Quill had made, because the very moment that Quill tried to let go and found himself unable to do so due to Sol's grip, also at the same moment that the former was half turned away in an attempt to disengage, Solomon made his move.

With the blinding speed of a grasshopper's leg, Sol's right arm tore free of it's sling in a motion that was much more mechanical than biological, and unleashed a savage blow in the direction of Quill's straightened out elbow. Sudden didn't even begin to describe the development, in fact, it made sudden seem slow and ponderous by comparison, not in the least because it was less like throwing a punch to Sol and more like pulling a trigger and watching a round tear free of the barrel. In the blink of an eye, faster than the literal time it would have taken for a twitch of one's eyelid, Sol's right arm went from nestled safely in a sling, to fully extended with the strength of a full armed swing of a sledgehammer with lethal accuracy upon Quill's elbow.

But it was hardly like Sol to leave it at that. Never-minding the remote to the point of impossible chance that he might have missed, any resemblance of an even temper had departed the moment Quill laid his filthy peasant hands on the young cyclops, and had been replaced with a lethal killer instinct. In a real fight, the kind Solomon was certain a bumpkin like Quill had never even seen, a fight on a battlefield where men were maimed and killed based on luck and random chance, one did not simply fire once at a foe and then trust that he would stay down. No, Sol had learned the hard way, more than once, that when someone threatened you, you did not show mercy until you were all but assured that they would not be able to retaliate.

Luckily for Quill, it was not Sol's intention to murder another student on his first day, but that being said, the fool had entitled Sol to whatever came next by virtue of self defense, and it was no concern of Sol's if he permanently crippled someone who had tried to choke him. Regardless of what Quill thought he had done, Sol was going to treat it as if the other boy had made a genuine attempt on his life, and as far as the law was concerned he was within his rights to do so. After all, why would someone grab someone else by the neck unless they intended to inflict grievous bodily harm?

With the same speed with which is had extended, Sol's right arm contracted to loaded position once more, this time with a decidedly unbiological "KA-CHUNK!" noise to punctuate the sudden motion. Then, no sooner had it re-cocked did it unleash another bone-shattering strike upon the still captured arm of the young man, this time with a hissing whine as well as a very loud "KA-CLANK!". Finally, still within the same second as the first of the strikes, the arm, now bereft of the coverings that had concealed it's mechanical nature, exposed as a work of blue metal bone and sinew with the strength of a hydraulic press to boot, coiled up a third and final time as jets of steam erupted from stress points at the wrist, elbow, and shoulder joints, before once more slamming itself towards Quill's arm with the savage merciless indifference of heartless metal, with the strength to pulverize cement, much less flesh and bone.

(Three Called Shots On Quill's Elbow)

Do to Solomon Moon's posts in this topic i have considered canceling this topic all post in this topic will no longer be counted in any future rp's i have talk to one other participant in this topic and he agrees with me. This is not a rp post this is a notification to anyone who is following this topic. I am sorry but i have been under a LOT of stress of late. One being that the staff here thought my friend who was trying to understand why i was so in rage one day and snapped at them just saying "Oh he broke a lot of rules" was me and not a friend of mine. Which in my defense I didn't give him permission to uses my alt account for that. I will be returning to my normal role playing until my rp forum is popular. If you have any questions about either this cancellation of this topic or my own RP forum please feel free to PM me when ever you want just don't ask me to give you admin on my own site. Also do not ask me to be a Collection either i'll choose who I want to choose ok. If you ask me what a Collection ask me for a link and you can see for your self.