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ASILE

[attr="class","about_1"]PERSONALITY

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[attr="class","about_1"]HISTORY / FREE FORM

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Pop is the name of the game. Winning is the statement. What comes of the game is the reason to see tomorrow and shine. All of the above is what Asile hides in his spirit. It is a creed that only one other shares. When the spirit of Ka Got Suchi was tainted, destiny spun a new fire in the eyes of the Sun. Amaterasu left and carried the stain of time into the cave of Takenocohaji and rested her eyes. The Lord was ready to send his son Jesus into the Earth to save all by the power of his name and example. Many were lifted by the rise of the King and no man was left untouched by God's mercy and grace through Jesus. Any other name just as sweet is a sure sign of the presense of a higher calling and now Asile will walk among the living and deceased, carrying the knowledge of a new kind of King. These shoes that soar are the rave of any century. Tool Toul To is a place called wop. All his life, Asile imagined being the greatest mechanic about Air Treks who ever developed a circuitry. He knows the only way to be pop is to be nop. HE AIN'T GONNA LET NO MAN'S SHOES FLOP.

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Being a smaller guy, Asile was a humble and proper seer of the form life and its blessings can take. He was always chipper and ready to solve any cog in the mesh of a day's rop. In all of his nineteen years in Japan, he had never seen a rig as folly as when he came to the Trophaeum Tower. It was the year 2013 and the way of the police had been to contain as much A-T violence as they could muster the strength to handle. The way a group of police fell before some of the strongest riders in the tower was like watching a big match of free agents in a pool of the draft lottery's craziest talent getting embarrassed like a pack of children up against a seasoned boxer. No officer in Asi's awareness had ever managed to eat enough of the destruction on the lower levels in order to advance to where he and his pal Fred Manager had been left to lie and wait on the police to show up to the parts war that had them at their end's wit about what these shoes mean to society. Economies would suffer the greatest collapses ever imaginable if even one force decided to quit trying to beat back the waves of hooligans who came to ascend to the tower's highest level.

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Fred Manager was a rider who thought that the Trophaeum Tower was a place where Storm Riders and Tuners came to commune and talk about all the things they love about riding and make the best of the community that he thought this was. Fred was all about being as warm and helpful as any other loving and excited civilian about what new technology brings to the world and our livelihoods. As far as Asi was concerned, Fred was about the coolest guy he knew. They had been around the same age, 12 years alive when the news that there would be a breaking out of the country's most elite and deadly chorale of bandits and roughnecks coming to behave about the tower's legendary claim to fame as a place where the wings of any rider would be either spread or sollen. We as humans are to be a light in this world just as the love of GOD is the dawn and the sky's heading ye. We reach into the day and the sun kisses our eye. In the Trophaeum Tower, each passing day is another aching tragedy of blood and war. Inside the walls of this abyss, we are no strangers to the stain of the devil's wretch and the time is gone.

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Since the first sound of the master ceremony of filthy sanctuary silenced the ever pestilent cries of the morning songbird's lopets, red run eerily either the orifices and all throughout the tower walls. There was no evading the Jordan of East's leavening eaort and all that was left was the satisfaction of knowing. Fred made a habit of breaking mad news to his pal Asile on a regular basis. Down the ripened top of Aeria is where the two met on a finer Tuesday afternoon in Otsu-shi.

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Flagship sailing is what Asile was looking forward to. He and Fred were like a whole wop in wetsuit tandem. Out on the lake is how you get to know a guy. That's what Asi was thinking when a young man in a pair of scandalous treks tried to skate across a wave and almost looked like he was making it atop the water's rushing tide when he lost all momentum and the shore saved him from being swept off of his feet. They knew that the forgiving sea would always keep the right shoes afloat, no matter many the riders who sink beneath its surface. Later the same evening, Asile would try to ride a wave in the same manner. Strapped to his Air Treks, the wave snaked up to the shore, bustling with size and storm. He revved the wheels against the sand on the beach and crouched into a hunch, tossing rocks behind before the launch swang his arms back and his core jerked into a lock. The speed of his open stance had his teeth chattering when he almost dove into the lake and mopped his shoes with hell's fleeting sop. He carried himself back to the shore with haste and never tried again to ride on water in a pair of ragtag old shoes. He had an idea for the centuries.

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Fred Manager had a family who always carried a technical savvy and wanted to get their hands on anything necessary to keep the dream of invention and successful manufacturing alive. Asile was invited over enough as a teenager to work with all the winning revels and tinker with Air Trek rigs for years before he found a knack for honing in at the rhythm of a shoe's gears and the processing of the o'ers that A-T technology had come to wink a gleam into his heart. Operating on a trek just made the most of his childhood wonder and he really enjoyed having a friend and a family who helped him befame himself in the city of Otsu-shi as one who a rider would and could depend on to make sure that no difficulties left someone without their speedy shoes. Once Asile made up his mind to take riding on a fluid surface to the concrete of his design, the workstation was open and he had just enough slender to make a reapless jist out of modifying his favorite pair of A-Ts into a hovering of pieces in a plan to mark his historic depth on the waters of Lake Biwa as a rider of waves. 31 teeming readers jetting from a plank of resting steel and a circuit with an open flame was what Asile had floating beside him with a rancor of hissing sensors and beeping mirth. He would disassemble this pair and reconstruct a more suitable creation for riding.

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The next day, he caught glance of a motor in a garage he was skating by and spoke to the new operator about what he could see as being the thread of agape in a dole of jisle. The now parked maker of revving earth-cling wheel porters and eots was open to aegis and in its polar becants he never imagined a more sretlying go at catching a fadar attent mise in well to work unto a pair of shoes. As a young boy, Asile had never eyed a motor with a lunar biane. This ether looked as a cycle of crask on a gnawing arm posted in emergence of school rivalry. The neighbor was willing to sacrifice the piece of work in exchange for a week of yardwork in his garden without pay and it had to be spot on. Asile knew the man wanted to see what some kid was going to do with a beauty like that. He knew it was a rarity and like any rare gem, he had better take care of it.

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Chipper like a grown cider on a fiat onning, Asile ran back to Manager girbaud ad post and brought the sexiest form of ander the yet constituted on his back. This motor was the key to completing the Air-Treks that would let him run on waves. All that was left was the silicon frame that was to be dried in alcohol and rie realty of the air it would pressurize.

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Air Trek fandom was like looking around for a chef to make a grocery list for your health and to ski on a mountain without a customized pair of rosary grips. It was looking like you don't see how appropriate it is for you to participate. He knew a lot of these guys on the streets and even offered to help many get started, knowing that his expertise couldn't steer one dread's way. Fred was one of those guys. His family's knick knack was more cars and planes. Air Treks could easily be a specialty of theirs one day, but it wasn't nearly old fashioned or really too popular to oath in. They would like to see a celebrity endorsement like a BMX race on olympiad before they throw their money into something like that. Mom Manager on occasion would read papers and see live breaks about a parts war turned homicide and turn away. Pop Manager just saw it like any new craze. Some takers, some naysayers, and some lunatics.

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Fred got a pair as quickly as Asile wanted to show him how to look cool riding. They went to the beach and made sure plenty of girls were watching when they started zipping through the street. Scum would always be looking for a weak-looking man or woman to mugger up to. Ill aid would be met with the same fate. God was always up to make sure none were left looking for a reason to complain about what happens here in life. We see what we want to and make up the rest with our desire. Man has always come to corrupt what pure heart lifts and reap seed sown of flesh and deceit. Pleasures will always trump hard work. What could be the reason for life if not pleasure?

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LIKES: mop, pop, dop, rop, top

[break][break]DISLIKES: flip hop bum lop dummies