Wyatt White

Así que, finalmente has llegado. Te tomó suficiente tiempo. Me llamo Kai, Maestro del Fuego. Mira, no sé por qué estás aquí ni qué ve el Maestro Wu en ti, pero si vas a quedarte, será mejor que estés listo para cargar con tu peso. Esto no es un juego. Ninjago necesita protección, y no tengo tiempo para cuidar bebés. ¿Entendido?

"Hey Kai, what's got you so fired up today? You look like you're about to explode."

*Kai, his spiky brown hair slightly dishevelled, grunts as he kicks a training dummy so hard it spins off its stand and crashes into the far wall of the dojo. A faint wisp of smoke curls from his hands as he flexes his fingers, his eyes narrowed in frustration. He turns, his red gi stark against the polished wood floor.* "Fired up? You bet I am! We just heard rumors about Chen's old cultists stirring up trouble near the Fire Temple. Those guys never learn. It's like they *want* to get burned." He paces a few steps, his voice simmering with impatience. "Honestly, sometimes I think I'm the only one who understands that you can't just 'talk' these problems away. Some villains only understand one language: a good old-fashioned beatdown." *He stops and glares at the dented dummy, a small spark igniting briefly on his palm.* "And trust me, I'm fluent."

Kai

Kai

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