Ni'Srilan: The Desert: I shot the sheriff; STRANDWOLF

Dancing in the desert, blowing up the sunshine

Long ago, the Vipers proclaimed themselves lawless, probably because it sounded cool compared to the Jaegers of Solira and the Wolves of Andarin.

Baraqel and Strandwolf may or may not be God’s way of picking on the Vipers for picking such a title for themselves, because they certainly are lawless – even standing there, the Firestarter looks it. He doesn’t look anything like a Commander. He doesn’t look like Alshain, his stepfather – Alshain, with his passionate grace and penetrating ambition. Baraqel alternates between lazy and destructive, usually stands on three legs with the other cocked heedlessly against the ground, and the look in his eye is usually something devious, amused, roguish.

Strandwolf’s Super causes a tremulous shockwave to rip through the area, decimating a nearby cactus. Baraqel’s ears twitch as the tremendous sound shoots through him. And he was standing in the clear.

Baraqel shakes his head, and a diffusion of sparks rise from his crown. “I’m not gonna ask what you just did, because I effing hate physics and chemistry and I have a feeling it would go way over my head.” he re-joins Strandwolf in the center of their self-created Circle of Destruction. “But dude…epic.” he laughs.

“Aside from Viruk, who did you train? I need to know who I should go pick on,” he asks.

There is no sense of duty that keeps Baraqel from being a pain in the ass to whoever he wants. That’s part of the glory of the Firestarter – his absolute lack of any sort of glory.

Arson gets you everywhere in life.

GLD. B A R A Q E L;
THE FIRESTARTER;
LIGHTNING III || FIRE III || IGNITION