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Dillon T Jones
Exceptionally questionable.
Character Race:
Only with three gold apples.
Here and now.
Place of Origin:
The night was thick with silence and fog, as it was meant to be on the high mountain tops that this scene seemed to take place in. Here and there insects called and birds responded, most likely complaining about the humidity.

The group that moved over the stone path could not of looked more out of place from the serene moment if they had tried. All were forms of people, but even that was hard to catch with the numerous coverings of dark rags that covered their bodies. Their presence was the worst disgrace. The insects quieted with their passing. Their birds stayed high in the trees and watched with a rage borne from a citizen watching an intruder.

The stone path lifted and climbed and the group followed it with a steadfast determination. The end of uncountable years of practice was at the end of this path. They were more then able to meet any threat they found there. There was no waiting once they found the Buddhist temple at the utmost pinnacle of the path.

They did not knock politely, they shoved the wide wood doors open. They did not leave their trappings behind them, they trailed dirt in with them. They brought all the presence and force of their realm with them.

The humor came from those that met them. Rows of rows of monks sat serenely amidst the trails of incense smoke. Some chanted. Some hummed. Some just sat. None looked up to the forms that barged it. Not even the one that was out of place among them all.

It was not hard to see who the dark group had come to see. Tall form laid out on a bed of pillows. Clad in nothing but blue jeans and a white T shirt that while out of place among the somber reds and yellows of the monks, he wore well. Hat tilted down over his face to keep the light out of his eyes, and generally add to the relaxed appearance. Flanked by a pair of monks, one the oldest, the other the youngest. The latter's only job seemingly to light the long pipe the lounging form of the man drew from even now.

The silence went on until the wind from outside crept forward and snuffed out the candles. Then the chanting and humming stopped. Stem of the pipe came from the mouth of the lounging man, and was used to move the rim of his hat back just enough to see what was disturbing his relaxation.

A simple rumble of annoyance. Then the next thing that happened was the dark group was tumbling out of the temple followed by the black form of the Armored beast. The serenity of the mountain was broken six times that night, each by an inhuman scream that was celebrated by the flights of birds from their trees to cry of the victory of mortality.

Nothing but the simple form of the man came back up that path. He knocked lightly on the door and was admitted. He brought nothing in with him. He bowed to the rows of monks, then quietly moved back to lay down on the bed of pillows.

"What a beautiful night." The man said as the hat was eased back down over his eyes an the young monk touched ember to the end of his pipe again, right on cue. Mouthful of smoke was pulled into his lungs with a pleased growl before he went on, calmly. "I wished I could of given them all the moon."

To this the older monk would only reflect and issue a quiet 'Hmm'. Then, slowly smile and nod to the wisdom of the beast.

You don't need to know what he does.

Just that he does it, quite well.

And sometimes does it in the company of Buddhist Monks.

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Fri Jan 04, 2013 10:47 pm
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Mon Jun 12, 2023 2:51 pm
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