The RPG Tournament of 2006 Commences

[Plantae]

The RPG Tournament of 2006 Commences
Stamped with the Tri-Mod Seal of Approval


All posts should maintain a PG-13 rating.

Welcome to the start topic of the 2006 RPG Tournament. You can find rules, regulations, etcetera, here. But first, a necessary and further explanation of the pairing system for this tournament.

During each round of the RPG Tournament, you as a player will choose one character of any RPGer in the tournament. You must then use that character in your post in some manner as an NPC. You may make slight changes to make sure that the character involved fits in the world of your own character. You may not use any character twice except in the case that you have exhausted all characters available that you could not include without making major changes.

Minor changes are those to appearance and name or minimal editing towards any of the following: history (mostly in the case of changing names within the history), age, or talents. Use reasonable judgment on what could be easily altered and what is so world specific that it should not be; as the character's personality and the things associated with make the character, these cannot be changed. Any questions can be forwarded to me.

How well another player's character was implemented in your post will be part of the requirements section of points. This will be judged solely from the information given in the character form. Any unclear or non-included information related to the character is up for interpretation and this will not be considered in the judging. However, these are not cameos. Any attempt to skip around this by hardly including another player's character at all in your own post will be a cause for the deduction of points.

The format for each round will proceed in the following way. A scenario will be given and an array of guidelines, somewhere between seven to ten, in which three must be chosen and implemented in that particular post. Certain rounds may have other, unique rules, but this is the basic format of each round. The purpose of guidelines is to give a basis on which each judge may critique a post. Note: Guidelines will not be in use for the first round. All other rounds will include them.

The scoring system is detailed in the sign-up thread. It should be noted, however, in reference to the linguistics section, that grammar and spelling are judged on the basis of their readibility. As long as it is comprehensible, it is unlikely that you will lose points for small errors. Entertainment level is based on the judge's perception of how much the general reader would enjoy the piece, not his or her own opinion.

In terms of post length: quality is encouraged over quantity, but any verbosity will not cause a points deduction unless it seems extremely pointless or is a detriment to the rest of the post.

The total points of each RPGer will be posted at the end of each round, as well as the points for that particular round's entry. Each judge will provide comments on why a role-player received the scores they did, be those brief or in depth. The scene and guidelines of each round will be recorded, as well as the player's individual scores.

Below you will find the first scene and a list on which any questions will be recorded. We, the judges, wish you the best of skill.

[u]Previous Rounds
1. (Post) One of the family members or friends of your character is kidnapped.
2. (Plotline) Craft an RPG plot and setting without basis in preexisting material. You must somehow include one of the nine elements given below in the plot. Provide any additional information about the world the RPG is set in that would be necessary for someone signing up for the RPG. Finally, describe the direction you would intend the plot go in if you were to host the RPG.
3. (Post) Your character possesses unrequited love for another, or vice versa. The love felt need not be romantic or sexual (romantic); plutonic and familial love are as easily accepted. More disturbing versions of sexual love are best avoided, unless you feel you can somehow use it in such a way that it is acceptable under a PG-13 rating. The lover in a sexual relationship must be at least fifteen in age, to give some degree of plausibility. The state of "unrequited love" must be intact at the end of the post, though some smaller degree of affection or attraction may be returned. At your discretion you may create a new character for this round if you so choose; such a character should be sent to both of us judges for approval, of which a response will be delivered within a half day's time. As normal, you should use one other player's character which you have yet to use in the post. Due to the nature of this round, this character's role may be more minor than usual. In addition, you must implement one or more of the following guidelines in your post.
4. (Post) Your character is accused of or confesses to a crime they did not commit. You must include an action scene of at least moderate length and use one of the guidelines below.

ROUND 5 - FINALE!
Round 5 is the finale of the RPG Tournament. In recognition of this event, this round will be worth double the usual points. The theme of this round is tragedy and it is entirely open-ended, with certain restraints. What this means is that there will be no prompt this round and that your post may revolve around whatever sort of plot you choose as long as it involves the theme. Tragedy, however big or small, should be the focus of the post. But a clever role-player can sneak in other genres if they do so carefully.

To reiterate, your task is as follows: present each of the following pieces as a connected whole while involving the open-ended theme/genre of tragedy under the given restraints, the storyline of the post being of this genre.

With the extra points comes the extra work. For this round, you must present more than usual for judging. The following are the required pieces for this round. And, this is very important, every piece must be interconnected to the other parts (in the same world) and must involve the theme of tragedy.

1. One RPG Plotline: this must be entirely new or never used. In the latter case, a link can be provided. The plotline may be modified if old and unused to better fit the rounds restraints on genre. However, though tragedy in the plot and connection to the other pieces in this round is required, the plot does not need to revolve around this genre.
2. One character form: this must be entirely new or never used. In the latter case, a link can be provided. The character may be modified if old and unused to better fit the round's restraints on genre. However, though tragedy in the form and connection to the other pieces in this round is required, the character does not need to revolve around this genre.

When presenting characters, the following generic form order should be used.

Generic Character Form
Name: (Self-explanatory, though you may use an alias or omit a surname if it is justified.)
Race: (If your character is of a non-human race, please state so here. If the race is one that is not well-known in literature or another form of media, please elaborate on its origins and culture.)
Gender: (The sex of your character.)
Age: (How old your character is. Approximate numbers are viable for extremely old characters.)
Appearance: (The physical looks of your character.)
Clothing and Gear: (The clothing and gear of your character, be that weapons or traveling supplies.)
Personality: (How your character acts.)
History: (The events of your character’s past.)
Talents: (Your character’s skills, be these magical or mundane.)
Other: (Anything else you would like to add, or anything that does not fit in another field.)

Other fields may be added only if they are absolutely necessary and do not fit in to any existing field.

3. One post: this must include two characters of other players, connection to the plotline (same world) and the element of tragedy. The post should be written in one of two ways: in the perspective of the new character with an RPG Tournament character of yours as an important NPC or half in the perspective of the new character and half in the perspective of an RPG Tournament character. In either case, the posts of two previous rounds must somehow be connected to this round's post. The connection should be plot-related and can be from minor significance to an obvious extension of previous storyline. The RPG Tournament character used must have been used in at least one of the posts this is connected to. Optionally, you may forgo the connection of one or two previous posts, but for each such connection not used, an additional judge NPC or character of another player must be included.

When using the characters of other players, or even your own previous characters, it is permissable to make modifications to their forms. Such modifications must be clearly stated at the start of the post or points will be deducted. When modifying a character, you may only modify the following fields (other modifications are subject to point deduction): history (minor changes), age (minor change), name, clothing and gear (minor to major changes), appearance (minor changes), race (only if non-vital to form: judge's decide when it is non-vital or private message the player the character belongs to), talents/powers/etcetera (minor changes or major changes with owner's approval).

Using a judge NPC is no longer required!

Judge NPC
1. Name - His actual name is indeterminate, either by the fact that he does not know it, or that he has told no one. He calls himself "Hattus."
Race - Human
Gender - Male
Age - 29
Appearance - Hattus is about 68 inches tall and of a rather frail build, though patches of his body such as his arms and legs are heavily muscled; a wide, ovular head with a bulbous nose that has large nostrils offsets his build. His nose is covered in slightly discolored skin and the rest of his complexion is a tan and surprisingly and almost unnaturally smooth. He has matted, animal-like hodgepodge hair, spiky in some places, with miss-cut bangs and having different lengths of hair intermittently. His hair is a wheaten color and his eyes two colors, one black-brown and the other amber; his left eye is noticeably of more size than the right to the point that his right eye seems to be squinting constantly. Hattus has lengthy lips, the upper lip being smaller than the bottom and slightly upturned in a curious expression; his teeth are a ruddy yellow color. His right cheek sports two unique rat scratch marks that have scarred him, white against his tan skin. He has stubby eyelashes and thin, almost feminine eyebrows that are a somewhat lighter color than his hair. He has a small mole on the left side of his face which is somewhat disconcerting and that grows infected quickly if cut. Hattus has a meager double chin and both are covered heavily in stubble that interrupts his otherwise dainty skin texture. His curvy ears are attached and one has a small pockmark on it at the top, the other a bump in almost the same place. Surprisingly, these ears are a fitting size for his rounded head.

Clothing and Gear - Hattus is clothed in a worn jacket (often worn unzipped and unbuttoned), yellow with brunette fur trim. Underneath is a raggedy tie-die tee with a large swirl in the middle. It is brutally obvious that the colors orange and yellow are missing from the pattern. He has on his head a papal miter in the 11th century style, a slightly rounded conical, that is a distinctly soiled white or off-white as it is impossible to tell; it is far too small and often seems overshadowed by his hair. He wears a second, smaller hat- a tall, conical tin-foil hat- on top of it. An old woolen sweater is tied around his waist, knotted tightly, and alternating colors of beige, putrid yellow, and a similarly nauseous green. It is so dirty, however, that it seems like it is polka-dotted "dirt" shade overtop that. His socks are mismatched, the first proudly woolen and distinctly black in color. The second has the potential to be knee-high, but is folded over, and though perhaps striped blue and white at one time, is now colored what could be called “soot and navy in repose." He wears black athletic shorts atop his baggy khaki trousers, thoroughly stained the both of them. His shoes are bitter hiking boots, blissfully new-looking and so slightly misplaced; they are a simple leathery apricot color with dark brown and yellow laces. He wears a white string of yarn with a tiny silvery key strung upon it.

Among his possessions are a tan leather knapsack, slung over his front and one shoulder diagonally. There are two strapped pockets containing tinkling bells that jingle ever so faintly (and somewhat irritatingly) but if strapped tight enough, can be muffled. He has broken his pockets that now span the entire backside of the inside of his coat and to each other. There are every myriad of small objects in here that he has picked up and a plethora of lint. Here lays a miniscule metal lockbox opened by the key around his neck. It contains all of his baby teeth and a secret compartment that he uses to store small, valuable items or simply sentimental ones. He has a sleek black accordion that he fondly calls "squeezebox."

Personality - Perhaps the correct word for Hattus' personality is "mellow." But to call anything the correct word for his personality is a waste of time. He never seems to anger, though he does often get surly and tires easily. Seemingly not of the type to intrude, he watches conversations whenever the chance is available and clearly plays up the fact that he is deaf to lure those speaking into a false sense of security. He likes to be on top of a situation, surprisingly, and often exploits any possible advantage that presents itself. He is without wit in words, though sometimes his actions make jokes of their own; he might be called a prankster if the situation calls for it. There is no keen intelligence lurking beneath his discolored eyes, but he does have a certain resourcefulness and versatility. He's no planner, but if given a few directions, he can improvise in full. His most obvious traits are that he does possess a certain loyalty and his unpredictability. At times seemingly with a kind heart and a desire to help, at others he demands repayment, and still rarely he has bad intentions from the start. Hattus is exactly the type to take more than one free sample and also the man that (sometimes unknowingly) puts a quarter in the "leave-a-penny, take-a-penny" container. There is one constant about him though: half-heartedness. He does everything with a certain, often useful, but usually creepy, indifference. In people's perception of him his greatest ability is that despite all his quirks, he plays them off so quietly that he is often regarded without much care, and thus is an easily forgettable person.

History - None; "Judge NPCs should be broad enough to fit in to most any world with minor modifications; additionally, their character histories are not given so that they might be implemented as you wish."
Talents - None; see other.

Other - Hattus is nearly deaf but reads lips almost perfectly; he insists he can hear the bells, which is why he keeps them. He never learned sign language, however. He usually tries to get away with pretending he cannot understand what people are saying if he can. His lack of hearing has not entirely affected his speech, which is still as filled with grumbling and as raspy as ever, save for the fact that sometimes he annunciates a little incorrectly or speaks in a volume not appropriate to the situation. Hattus aspires to become a crypto zoologist and has extensive knowledge of the topic. He also knows a fair bit of cryptography and often writes in code if he can, of which he has several personal ones. He plays the accordion decently.

We do not expect you to finish all of this work in so short an amount of time as one week. The deadline for Round 5 is November 15th at 11:59 PM CST. This round will be worth 100 points.

Finally, please ask any and all questions you have about this round as soon as possible! There are no worthless questions.

[u]FAQ
Question: What are we expected to post for the first round?
Answer: There are no restrictions as long as it relates to the given scene. You might choose to depict the search for the kidnapping victim or their rescue, or something entirely different. What you do with your post is entirely your choice.

Question: How much are we required to use another RPGer's character in our posts?
Answer: We are not asking you to feature them, though you certainly could. We want them to be used enough that we can easily judge that you have portrayed them correctly. They should have a role of moderate importance if it is at all possible.

Question: If you are using an old character, is what happened in the RPG they're from now part of the past?
Answer: Whether or not the plotline and/or events of the RPG an old character is from are completed or still ongoing is entirely up to the poster.

Question: What is the content rating of the RPG Tournament and its posts?
Answer: All posts should fall under a PG-13 rating.

Question: When we use someone else's character, do they have to use our character in return? Once we use them, do we have to use them in each post from that character's POV?
Answer: No.

Question: (Round 2) Do we need to include the sign-up form for the RPG?
Answer: No.

Question: (Round 3) What if we use more than one guideline?
Answer: You cannot gain extra points by using additional guidelines. However, should your first guideline be found to have been used somewhat incorrectly, having such back-up guidelines may net you some of the lost points.

Question: (Round 4) May we use the character of someone who has been eliminated or who has withdrawn?
Answer: Yes.

Round 5 Specific
Question: May concepts and events from the character's original RPG be included in this round's post?
Answer: This is allowed if and only if these concepts and events are explainable within the post.

Question: Can we write a portion of the post in a perspective other than that of our new character required for this round or our previous RPG Tournament character?
Answer: You may write part of the post in the perspective of another player's character or judge NPC if you so choose; if you do so, the character of yours (new or RPG Tournament old) whose perspective is not used should still be included as an important NPC.

Question: When connecting to previous posts, can we use the posts of other players?
Answer: Yes.

COMPOSITE SCORES (Out of 190)
1st place - Vulpix.ck - 165.25 pts.
2nd place - Weasel Overlord - 162.5 pts.
3rd place - Sheila Rae – 155.75 pts.
4th - Asilynne – 146.75 pts.
5th - SuperSonicMewtwo – 143.75 pts.

Bear - Withdrew - 63 pts.
Ace64 - Withdrew - 69.75 pts.
Master Rudy - Eliminated - 27 pts.
Mystic_clown - Eliminated - 21.5 pts.

[u]Participants
SuperSonicMewtwo
Weasel Overlord
Sheila Rae
Asilynne
Vulpix.ck

[Asilynne]

Ill post in this tomorrow, Im just getting over a week of working overnight so I have to get used to actually getting sleep lol

[Asilynne]

In the hope that Im not screwing this up LOL here goes!

My chosen char for the round:

Name: Aeryn McFallon
Race: Human, Electro-Psi
Gender: Female
Age: 19
Appearance: Medium length black hair, blue gray eyes. About 5'8" with a slim but muscular body structure. Her mother was Japanese and her father was Irish so she looks like a mix between the two. Despite this and some of the cultural things she shares with her parents she is all american lol
Clothing and Gear: . Likes to wear shirts that show her stomach, and flare jeans or medium length shorts with japanese style sandals. Has her white and gray striped cat Sushi with her always
Personality: Optimistic and uplifting, she always has a song in her mind. Loves to sing as loud as she wants reguardless of whos around. Has a melodic voice that reminds people of a sweet summer day, the warm sun and a cool breeze. She feels emotions strongly, and sometimes the air around her becomes charged with electricity because of it (a warm buzzing feeling in those around her if shes happy or excited and a tense staticy feeling when shes pensive or upset) Likes her life to be well ordered and peaceful and when its not, it unbalances her completely. When shes stressed she gets moody and withdrawn, choosing to avoid her friends rather than let them see her in that state. Has a temper if she feels she is being held down or made to do things she deems pointless or not necissary. Likes her freedom ^v^
History: She grew up on a quiet suburban street, enjoying what some would call the good life. Her parents werent rich, but they were still very well off, but despite this she didnt grow up spoiled. Her parents both came from poor families, and, not wanting to raise a child that took things for granted, made her work for everything she has. Because of this she gets slightly embarrassed when people see how well off they are, she doesnt like feeling like people will treat her differently for it. She enjoys using her Electro-Psi powers but mostly just uses it on instinct. Because of its potentially harmful nature to humans, she doesnt really practice shooting bolts of electricity at things, and shes not much into technology because she tends to break it with the static. Likes to use it to pick up radio stations in her mind though lol One summer day when she was ten, she was outside on a cloudy day before a thunderstorm singing, T storms always gave her a thrill. During a high point in the song (crescendo or something) a bolt of lightning came down and struck her. She discovered her powers when instead of dying she absorbed it like nothing happened and didnt even know anything happened except for the warm tingly feeling she felt. Let me clarify this a bit. When she sings to her its an emotional thing, she FEELS the music ^-~ Singing thrills her as much as thunderstorms so when she was singing the electricity power in her acted as a lightning rod and attracted the bolt which struck her ^v~ Shes not the type who shoves singing in other peoples face or thinks she is the best singer ever, she just feels good when she sings so she does it. It makes her feel at peace with the world, when she sings outside it makes her feel attuned to nature. (I know some people got the wrong Idea about this character before because of that ^-~)Is currently attending the local state college, in which she is majoring in animal care/veterinary studies.
Talents: Electricity manipulation, her body produces it due to her electro psi nature, can sing well, knows some martial arts and just plain brawling if need be, and she likes to cook.
Other: Other: *Pets other* I wuv you other you are my frieeeeend! LOL OMG She loves cats and the cats seem to like the static electricty that comes from her petting their fur. A lot of her shirts tend to have something called the 'sushi neko' on them LOL
RPG Title: The Psi, by Virtualplay

And now, I CHOOSE YOU! Vulpix.ck's CHARACTER!
Name: Iccaheb
Race: Human
Gender: Male
Age: 12
Appearance: Unlike his brother he bears more resemblance to his mother than his pale White-American father, although his Anglo features shine through. Whilst his skin has a warm olive-brown tone to it, his eyes are a beautiful blue, intensified by the contrast his long hazel lashes make. His hair lies in a trussy mop upon his head - a light chestnut colour that shines gold in the sun - furled at the nape of his neck, reaching no farther than his eyes, which it frames in clumps giving a fringe and protrudent bangs. He has snub, childish features - small ears and a little ski slope nose - and against these undeveloped characteristics his eyes seem huge, as if he has yet to grow into them. His full lips are often set in a line that doesn’t befit his age, he seems too serious for a child so young, but when he smiles his sweetness shines through. He’s on the verge of puberty, his chin is strong but still with the rounded cheeks of youth (><), he has yet to develop ‘The Sullens’, and other such teenage related conditions. He’s generally shorter than most kids his age, not so much that the others tower over him, he could just use a growth spurt really. He’s slim but built sturdy, like kids generally are, and with his slender young frame and mixed dress he comes off rather androgynous. But he’s so adorable he just gets away with it anyway ^^
Clothing and Gear: Blue dress, currently: high on his flat chest, with the shoulder straps reaching round to tie in a bow behind his neck, it comes down to his knees as a not-overly-elaborate two-tier flounce dress with a little subtle lace at the trim. He often goes barefoot, otherwise wears kiddie sneakers or flat sandals with fancy straps. His Hello Kitty backpack is mandatory. He generally dresses in a lot of pastels, leaving a deceivingly fey impression about him.
Personality: The shock of his parents’ death and his own coinciding near-death experience must have had some affect on him, and manifests its hold in several ways. The most noticeable thing you notice about Iccaheb is the fact that he never ever talks - the truth is he hasn’t spoken a word to anyone since the accident. His nature stayed the same though, he’s still such a sweet kid, inquisitive but polite, all the way down to his very bones it would seem. With his aunt being as senile as supposedly is, he has become highly self reliant, unusually capable for one so young. As a result he finds he’s much more sensible than others with their foolish antics, and when the kids are messing about he’ll tag along up to a point, before rolling his eyes and wandering off.
Despite being a bold, self asserted character, he does get overly concerned about all sorts of things - from the washing up, to his schoolwork, to global warming. It’s not that he gets in a tizzy, he just takes things too far in his head in some weird form of paranoia. For example, if he heard the next Ice Age was possibly coming in a few years from some doubtable source, he would run off to bundle up in woollen clothes straight away (granted - on top of his dress).
Since he doesn’t talk to anyone he spends a lot of time in his own head, and is some what regarded as a daydreamer.
History: [See Caspian’s history for the first mesmerizing instalment of our hero’s past.]
After his parents died and his brother moved away Iccaheb was left with his aunt. She was the kind you avoided visiting for years (quite cruel, yes, but she was terribly senile and fearsome). But as his only living relative with a steady income (pension, of course) and of a guardian-able age, Iccaheb was shipped away to Illinois to live with her (no-one bothered to check up on her mental status). Despite being the decrepit old dingbat she was, she was actually quite crafty, and one has to wonder how much of her visage was really true to life.. Either way, through her sneaksome actions Iccaheb became her personal slave - the quiet boy who refused to speak after his parents’ death ended up taking care of the carer he was given to. She provided food and clothes for him - although she seemed to think he was a girl, and so he ended up in dresses half the time. He was well fed and healthy though, with a few more chores than usual but still allowed to play out with all the other neighbourhood kids, most of whom accepted him for what he was - a skirt wearing mute.
Talents: He’s the master of housework. He’s also generally a lot more informed than others - because he doesn’t talk people assume he can’t hear them, and they let slip a extra few details when he’s near by, if ya know what i mean .
Other: He hero-worships his brother, adores him to bits. He has a certain fondness for Mr.Nanas too (who wouldn’t have?!) but Cas never let him play with him.

1. He’s scared of the cracks in pavements and avoids stepping on them at all costs. If his eyes remain fixed on them for prolonged periods of time they seem to grow chasm-like to him, and he develops a frozen stance where he stands - feeling as if on the brink of a cliff, intense vertigo setting in. The easy and obviously correct explanation for this is that he and his parents fell into a ravine, and the latter snuffed it. Anyways, due to this he often walks along with his head down, often bumping into people and appearing like he’s daydreaming.
2. As a child he and his aunt visited the graveyard a lot, and whilst his aunt went to his parents’ graves(she adored them even though they never visited), he would get bored and go off to play. It wasn’t long before he had invented and befriended many imaginary friends at the graveyard - the gravestones served as his inspiration - and he would play with these ghost children to pass the time. Though it sounds quite sad and piteous, Iccaheb never viewed his actions as anything subnormal. He even spoke to these children in his head, and they had their own secret language that nobody else knew. Now and then they pop by to see him, but only in times of mental strain or emotional anguish.
3. It is true that Iccaheb’s heart stopped for a full two minutes when he was seven years old, and technically he was dead before his amazing resurrection. Still you have to wonder whether they brought him the whole way back, for he seems to have many ghost like countenances. When he walks he hardly makes noise, and seems to have no imprint on the earth. He does not talk. He befriends the ‘ghosts’ of dead children. It’s lots of little things really.. Like that no one ever seems to see or hear him open doors - he just appears out of no where and scares the crap out of everybody. Animals do not seem to acknowledge his presence - he can walks through entire flocks of birds and schools of fish without disturbing them.

Set in the Suburban neighborhood of my char if thats ok

~~~Aeryn McFallon~~~
The game is afoot!

"So long and thanks for all the fish, so sad it had to come to this!"
I sang cheerfully to myself as I gently laid the last sliced fish over the perfectly prepared rice. It was a weekend, which meant no school, and though I enjoyed school, I enjoyed my free time a lot more. Weekends meant parties at Alex's house, they meant friends and singing. They meant more than these things however, there was a deeper and more signifigant reason for my happiness. Weekends gave me a chance to perform the most sacred ritual of my family. A sacred ritual that has been passed down from generation to generation on my moms Japanese side. The most holiest of rituals to engage, without this ritual the sky would fall from the heavens and life as we knew it would cease to exi----

"Hey Aeryn you done makin that sushi yet?"

I sighed and placed one hand on the wooden cutting board in front of me. "Alex....." Holding up the other towards him I scolded him lightly. "This is a very important--"
"Sacred ritual I know......but Im huuungry!!!" He whined slightly and pouted, which only made me laugh. Alex was my next door neighbor, and had been my best friend since we were children. He had grown accustomed to some of the strange things I did and I was used to his whining, but he knew better than to think he could get a piece.
"Come now Alex you know Sushi always gets the first piece of a new batch of sushi! Its a part of the sacred good luck ritual!" Sushi was my little gray and white tabby, she loved sushi almost as much as I did. Which made it strange that she wasnt hovering above me as I made it...usually she would watch me from the time I took the fish out of the fridge. I realised with a start that I hadnt seen her all day. Frowning at the fact that the ritual was incomplete, I called out her name.
Nothing.
This wasnt like her at all, she should have darted into the kitchen by now. This had gone beyond worrying about the ritual, I was beginning to worry where she was. We never let her out of the house, Alex knows better than to do that. But where could she have gone?
"I guess she doesnt want any..." Alex said, reaching for the sushi.
I smacked his hand away. "This is serious Alex she could be missing! She couldve been hit by a car or worse!" I grabbed a piece of sushi and headed for the door. "Im going out to look for her.." I pointed at him threateningly. "If you touch that sushi while Im gone your gonna get it!"
"Yes ma'am..." I heard him mumble as I shut the door. Looking down I saw an envelope on my doormat. Picking it up curiously I opened it, inside was a letter made from newspaper clippings, which read: I haVe yOur SushI.
I gasped and dropped the letter. Sushi's been kidnapped! No, Catnapped! I almost dropped the piece of sushi I was carrying. My cat! Who would want to steal my cat?! I knew what I had to do, go through the neighborhood and find whoever this culprit was. I began to walk down the sidewalk with a sense of purpose.
It slowly began to dawn on me that I looked like a crazy person. Here I was, walking down the street holding a piece of sushi and calling out "Sushi!!!". All my neighbors probably thought I was trying to sell the piece in my hand, or something else equally crazy. Sighing, I sank to a sitting position, my electro-static buzzing like crazy out of stress. I didnt know what to do in a situation like this, I was no cop. And if I called them they would laugh at me. This was horrible.
Suddenly a shape out of the corner of my eye caught my attention. Looking beside me on the sidewalk was a little kid who seemed to appear out of nowhere. The weird part was, it was a boy, but it was in a pretty blue dress. Who dressed this poor kid? "Hey kid," I said, feeling very sad and out of options. "Have you seen a cat around here?" He just stared at me curiously, without seeming to move. I wasnt sure if he even heard me.
His eyes followed me as I stood up. "You know, KITTY. Cat. Like that." I pointed at his cutsy little Hello Kitty backpack. "Mines lost and Im trying to find her." Nothing I said seemed to get through to him, he just continued to stare, so I sighed and walked away. "Thanks anyway kid...." I sighed dejectedly, glancing back at him----but he was gone. What the hell?
Looking back in front of me, I gave a yelp, and my electricity blew out the streetlight above me. "OH my HOLY---" I started, for the kid was right in front of me suddenly, and of all things, holding a CAT! The cat, an orange tabby, looked rather confused at the situation. The kid was smiling though, a sweet little smile that made his blue eyes seem even bigger, and that was the only reason I didnt run like a scared little girl away from him. "Um...no, thats not my cat but uh...thank you kid!" I said, giving him a tentative little pat on the head. He calmly set the cat down and shuffled away through the grass in his bare feet.
"Wow...." I breathed to myself. "There goes one creepy kid..." Shaking my head slightly I resolved that maybe I should call the police after all. Better to leave this situation for proffessionals. As I neared my house though I almost screamed and wet my pants. This time my electricity caused all the car alarms near me to go off at once. There the kid was again---sitting on my porch with 3 cats in his arms.
I seriously didnt know how he kept doing it but it was freaking me out. I felt like I was in one of those surreal horror movies where the monstor would appear out of nowhere in impossible ways. But I felt bad for thinking that, after all, this wasnt a monstor, it was just a creepy little boy wearing a dress. Im sure its not his fault hes so creepy....right?
He looked at me with that same pleased look as before, as the cats mewled and crawled all over him like he wasnt there. I was beginning to think he was trying to help me find my cat, although so far hes found every cat in the neighborhood but mine. But at least he was trying, I had to give him that. "Sorry kid those arent mine either..." Without a word the kid handed me the note I had found before. "Yeah I know kid, I think shes been 'napped, Im going to have to call the police." The kid stood up quietly and did the unthinkable---he went in my house. That was going a bit too far I thought.
Following him in I started to protest, when I saw him point under my couch at something. Going over to investigate I gave a yelp of surprise and my electricity became a warm fuzzy feeling. "Sushi! Oh there you are! You werent Catnapped after all, just catnapping!" I hugged Sushi to me and thanked the kid. But something still didnt make sense. "What the hell was with that note then?" I asked myself as I walked in the kitchen, the kid following. Alex looked up from hovering over my sushi. "Oh cool so you found it huh?" He laughed as I raised an eyebrow. "I was hoping youd go out to check the mail and see it, then come right back in so I could pretend to eat some. But you were gone for awhile and I forgot about it." I made a motion like I was going to slap him which he dodged and started to giggle. "So you actually thought your cat was kidnapped? Who would kidnap a cat?"
I shook my head smiling. "Well its all ok now, this kid found her for me, and now the ritual may commence!" I started to give Sushi a piece but stopped. "You know? I think we can break the ritual just this once." I smiled down at the kid, whos name I didnt know and probably never would, and held down the plate of sushi to him.

"Have you ever tried sushi before? Its the best stuff on earth!"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Whew hope that was good lol ^-^

[Mystic_clown]

My chosen character:

Name: Beelzedon
Race: Fiend, a lower form of demon. These normally resemble another type of creature, but with more demonic features (in Beelzedon’s case, a human).
Gender: Male
Age: 18
Appearance: He stands at 5’45’’ with a slender build and a slightly pale complexion. His hair is mess, a pale indigo and barely reaches past his chin. His eyes are red and cat-like and his hands resemble claws.
Clothing and Gear: Normally wearing black, he wears a black coat with gray trim which is normally left open, black pants held up by a dark brown belt and black boots. His hands are covered with purple gloves and he wears a black top hat with a large pale yellow feather in it.
Personality: He’s a bit of a smart ass, but then again, he has a right to. He’s resourceful, cunning and can easily think on his feet. He’s a bit selfish, but overall is a nice guy.
History: Rumored to be Beelzebub’s little bro (a fact that’s probably false since Beelzebub’s an arch demon and he’s just a fiend), Beelzedon got about as much respect as any other fiend in hell, in other words, none. Getting bored with hell Beelzedon decided to have a bit of fun in the human world. He enjoyed it so much that he decided to stay there. Because he’s a demon (a lesser demon, but a demon none the less), he’s regarded as vermin by the church and with suspicion by everyone else. Still, Beelzedon likes to annoy the church and the odd person here and there.
Talents: While he has no supernatural powers, being the lowest kind of demon and all, He’s still faster then a human (and those claws o his hurt). He can also call forth black and red demonic wings from his back, allowing him to fly.
Other: He’s pretty much Gear Kaiser’s nemesis.
RPG Title: (The title of the RPG the character was originally part of if the character is an old one.)

Elements
1. He doesn’t know quite when to shut up. His smart ass attitude tends to get him into trouble (mental)
2. Being a demon, holy objects tend to hurt him. Being a lesser form of demon, holy objects tend to hurt him A LOT! (physical)
3. He has a mild claustrophobia. Let’s just say some demons were very cruel to him and now he feels uneasy in small spaces.

Staring Weasel Overlord's character!

Name: Evri San
Race: Human
Gender: Female
Age: 39
Appearance: Evri is short, standing at around five foot three with roughly clipped, mousy brown hair and dreamy features. Her eyes are pale blue, almost the same colour as her smock, and topped off by a faint pair of eyebrows. Often seen shaded by her giant hat, Evri’s face isn’t always showing, but when it is visible, it can be seen that she has gently tanned skin smattered with freckles across her nose and under her eyes. She most often leaves her hair totally messy, when you have a large hat jammed on your head you sort of lose all qualms about how good your hair looks.
She has largish hands with girly oval fingernails which seem out of place when compared to her calloused fingers and don’t-care look.
Her stature isn’t so much thin as slender. Her belt gathers the smock about her waist, making her look thinner than she actually is, and through the holes in her jeans grubby and knobbly knees can be seen.
Evri’s overall appearance gives her an air of dreaminess, coupled with a piercing, see-right-through-you stare which can be quite unnerving.
Clothing and gear: Evri wears a thick black belt around an equally thick smock-like t-shirt which reaches about halfway down her thighs. The smock is a pale blue colour, but stained with various mysterious substances, most of which are probably better off being left to be mysterious. The belt is studded with holes at random intervals, two of which are the holder of a black string from which dangles a bag. Said bag is leather in material, and has a little drawstring mechanism by which it is closed, though the actual strings are very worn and so it can be opened with the minimum of effort. Evri’s bag is a faded brown and contains many uninteresting items. These include pebbles, orange- and golden-painted feathers, small shells, a tiny bell and a multitude of other nick-knacks, none with any particular use except to back up Evri’s wild theories and speeches.
As pants, Evri wears a pair of ragged and torn jeans which she swears were once blue, but have now faded to white with a vague tint of blue around the edges. Lacking in knees, these jeans don’t provide the best of protection for activities such as, say, kneeling down, and the same can be said for sitting, with only the barest amount of threading remaining.
On her feet, she wears battered wellies, or wellington boots (boots made of rubber, in case you aren’t familiar with them...for all I know, they could be an English creation O.o) in an attractive muddy green sported by wellies everywhere. Rubber-soled, these provide excellent protection from the rain, although Evri would never actually be caught in any rain, it needing clouds to be made and all. In a rucksack, she carries a foldable plastic mac (a coat-type thingy), in case of clouds and a huge hat, also in case of clouds.
Personality: Evri takes the odd view that mythical creatures are actually real, claiming to have seen them many times herself. Some of these claims include; “I’ve ridden on a dragon”, and “I fed a Unicorn once, you know?”
Because of this, she takes every opportunity presented to persuade anyone in the vicinity that these creatures are actually real, becoming quite vehement in her protestations and often producing painted feathers or scales which she claims to have taken from said creatures as proof of their existence.
She carries these items her little bag, which she ties onto her belt with multiple complicated knots in fear of losing them. In times of stress, Evri can be seen fingering the bag as if it is a comfort to her, eyes closing in a daydream and fingers caressing the materials inside.
As a direct result of these fevered imaginings, Evri has developed an extreme fear of clouds, believing herself to have once flown with a Dragon named Tooku, so high into the atmosphere that she fainted due to lack of breathable air. On cloudy days, she is barely able to go outside, although if it is necessary, she wears a large, floppy-brimmed hat, to shield the offending clouds from her vision. Out of sight, out of mind, eh?
Her fear of clouds also stretches to include fog, and mist of any genre, and she has a tendency to pant as if she suffers from asthma if caught out in such weather without suitable protective clothing, ie: a large hat, coat and wellies.
Apart from these fears and habits, Evri is normally quiet-spoken, her eyes often seen gazing far off into the distance, or through someone, and her voice carries a pleasant French lilt.
History: Living as an only child for the better part of her childhood, Evri grew up in France with a very normal set of parents. They did have a tendency to work too much, however, leaving the young Evri at home and alone for much of her early life, a possible explanation for her wild and almost dangerous imagination. She began to “see” mythical creatures as her special friends at around the age of ten, her experiences with them growing rapidly more complex and exciting as she dreamed her way through school, college and a scummy office job, right up until the age of thirty, when her life-changing flight with the Dragon Tooku prompted her almost chronic fear of clouds and cloud-like weather structures. After this, she gave up her job, the perils of getting there every morning becoming too much for her to handle, and became a hermit of sorts, living inside and managing with the money her parents left to her in their will, both of them having died when Evri was too preoccupied to notice.
She was therefore rather surprised to find that her very old parents, who had always been a mere smudge in the distance of her hazy life, had popped their clogs at the ripe old ages of ninety, leaving her lots of money while they went about it.
Talents: Evri is very persuasive, having spent most of her life attempting to persuade people of the existence of Dragons etc. However, she isn’t quite persuasive enough, as they never seem to believe her. (odd that...) Other than this inherent persuasiveness, Evri has a talent for spotting a cloud miles on the horizon, and reflexes to match, as she runs for shelter, pulling on her protective clothes.
She also has a talent for painting and prettifying otherwise pieces of crap, such as a pigeon feather, or a seashell, and then convincing herself that she obtained the artefact as a gift from one of her mythical friends.
Other: Sometimes, she mutters things in French to Tooku, her childhood friend.

Elements. *approved by Plantae-boy*
(1) Mental – Believes vehemently in the existence of mythical beasts such as the Dragon, the Unicorn and the Phoenix and will use every opportunity presented to try and persuade others of this fact, providing “evidence” and “eye-witness accounts”.
(2) Physical/Mental – Carries around a small bag containing artefacts collected from the mythical beings and her encounters with them. Gets panicky if the bag is not present, and uses it as a comforter in times of stress, stroking it unconsciously as if possessed with a nervous tendency.
(3) Mental – Because of one of her “encounters” with a Dragon, flying with it too high up caused her to faint from breathlessness, and plummet only to be saved by said Dragon. She holds the clouds responsible for her fall, and has developed an irrational fear of them, refusing to go outside in cloudy weather, rain or fog, unless she is properly protected. If she is caught out in such weather, and has none of her protective clothing with her, she will almost hyperventilate in panic, panting and twitching as if having a fit of asthma.

Beelzedon
------------------------------------------
The fiend's eyes were locked on the starry sky as he layed back on the roof of some house. When he wasn't driving the church nuts, or saving Karen from Gear Kaiser, he'd normally sit on a roof and star gaze.

He furrowed his brow when he noticed a shape appear in the moonlight, and it seemed to be getting bigger. He could make out a pair of wings flapping as it grew closer.

'The almost looks like...' Beelzdon thought, his eyes widening. The fiend never got a chance to jump our of the way as Karen's carrier pigeon, Peppy, shot down and clawed at his face. Beelzedon cried out and flailed his arms, trying to knock off the annoying bird, falling off the roof in the process.

The fiend snarled in pain as he clutched the back of his head, the pigeon flying off into the distance.

'Karen loves me, yet even her bird hates me. What the hell did I do to them?'

"Are you ok...um...sir?"

Beelzedon looked up to see a small, strange woman staring at him curiously. Beelzedon sat up and brushed himself off.

"I'm fine," he said, and then, moments later when he noticed the woman was still staring, "What? Haven't you ever seen a fiend before?"

The woman immediately realised she was staring and looked away embarrassed.

"Sorry," she apoligized quickly, looking away and then noticing somthing, "Hey, that bird dropped something."

Beelzedon looked over to see that that bloody pigeon had indeed left a note. So it didn't come just to harrass him after all.

He picked it up and began reading.

My Dearest Beelzedon.

I need your help. My father has been kidnapped by the evil Gear Kaiser.

Beelzedon couldn't hide the grin on his face.

'I know he's supposed to be my nemesis,' he thought, 'but thank you Gear Kaiser!'

"Gear Kaiser?" the woman, who was now reading over his shoulder asked.

"Long story," the fiend replied, "Tell you later."

Oh, I just can't bear the thought of what that horried man is doing to him right now.

'She may not, but I can.'

I beg you, please hunt down Gear Kaiser and rescue my father. I'll be forever greatful. I just hope Peppy finds you and delivers this message. He's such a sweet and reliable bird. ^_^

'Yeah Right.'

Love
Karen Lechime.

Beelzdon smiled, and then tossed the note over his shoulder.

"sorry Karen," he said to noone in particular, "But I'm afriad the answer would have to be no."

The woman behind him was amazed.

"Shouldn't you help him? I mean, he is your friend's father isn't he?"

Beelzedon turned to face her.

"Let me tell you something. Karen's father and I don't really get along. If it was me getting held hostage by Gear Kaiser, he'd let me get tortured and experimented on. so frankly, I don't care if Kaiser turns him into a human toaster!"

The woman sighed and looked back at the note.

"Wait, there's more."

The fiend picked it up and read.

PS:I know daddy and you don't get along, but I love him and if you don't save him then no more loving for you!

The woman stifled a laugh at the look on the demon's face.

"No more loving?" he repeated before giving a defeated sigh and standing up, "Guess I've gotta go and kick Kaiser's mechanical butt again."

The woman smiled and turned to walk away, when she felt the demon's claw on her shoulder.

"You're coming too."

"What!?"

[Weasel Overlord]

[color=#b0c4de]Using Character No: 2 – Evri San.
Name: Evri San
Race: Human
Gender: Female
Age: 39
Appearance: Evri is short, standing at around five foot three with roughly clipped, mousy brown hair and dreamy features. Her eyes are pale blue, almost the same colour as her smock, and topped off by a faint pair of eyebrows. Often seen shaded by her giant hat, Evri’s face isn’t always showing, but when it is visible, it can be seen that she has gently tanned skin smattered with freckles across her nose and under her eyes. She most often leaves her hair totally messy, when you have a large hat jammed on your head you sort of lose all qualms about how good your hair looks.
She has largish hands with girly oval fingernails which seem out of place when compared to her calloused fingers and don’t-care look.
Her stature isn’t so much thin as slender. Her belt gathers the smock about her waist, making her look thinner than she actually is, and through the holes in her jeans grubby and knobbly knees can be seen.
Evri’s overall appearance gives her an air of dreaminess, coupled with a piercing, see-right-through-you stare which can be quite unnerving.
Clothing and gear: Evri wears a thick black belt around an equally thick smock-like t-shirt which reaches about halfway down her thighs. The smock is a pale blue colour, but stained with various mysterious substances, most of which are probably better off being left to be mysterious. The belt is studded with holes at random intervals, two of which are the holder of a black string from which dangles a bag. Said bag is leather in material, and has a little drawstring mechanism by which it is closed, though the actual strings are very worn and so it can be opened with the minimum of effort. Evri’s bag is a faded brown and contains many uninteresting items. These include pebbles, orange- and golden-painted feathers, small shells, a tiny bell and a multitude of other nick-knacks, none with any particular use except to back up Evri’s wild theories and speeches.
As pants, Evri wears a pair of ragged and torn jeans which she swears were once blue, but have now faded to white with a vague tint of blue around the edges. Lacking in knees, these jeans don’t provide the best of protection for activities such as, say, kneeling down, and the same can be said for sitting, with only the barest amount of threading remaining.
On her feet, she wears battered wellies, or wellington boots (boots made of rubber, in case you aren’t familiar with them...for all I know, they could be an English creation O.o) in an attractive muddy green sported by wellies everywhere. Rubber-soled, these provide excellent protection from the rain, although Evri would never actually be caught in any rain, it needing clouds to be made and all. In a rucksack, she carries a foldable plastic mac (a coat-type thingy), in case of clouds and a huge hat, also in case of clouds.
Personality: Evri takes the odd view that mythical creatures are actually real, claiming to have seen them many times herself. Some of these claims include; “I’ve ridden on a dragon”, and “I fed a Unicorn once, you know?”
Because of this, she takes every opportunity presented to persuade anyone in the vicinity that these creatures are actually real, becoming quite vehement in her protestations and often producing painted feathers or scales which she claims to have taken from said creatures as proof of their existence.
She carries these items her little bag, which she ties onto her belt with multiple complicated knots in fear of losing them. In times of stress, Evri can be seen fingering the bag as if it is a comfort to her, eyes closing in a daydream and fingers caressing the materials inside.
As a direct result of these fevered imaginings, Evri has developed an extreme fear of clouds, believing herself to have once flown with a Dragon named Tooku, so high into the atmosphere that she fainted due to lack of breathable air. On cloudy days, she is barely able to go outside, although if it is necessary, she wears a large, floppy-brimmed hat, to shield the offending clouds from her vision. Out of sight, out of mind, eh?
Her fear of clouds also stretches to include fog, and mist of any genre, and she has a tendency to pant as if she suffers from asthma if caught out in such weather without suitable protective clothing, ie: a large hat, coat and wellies.
Apart from these fears and habits, Evri is normally quiet-spoken, her eyes often seen gazing far off into the distance, or through someone, and her voice carries a pleasant French lilt.
History: Living as an only child for the better part of her childhood, Evri grew up in France with a very normal set of parents. They did have a tendency to work too much, however, leaving the young Evri at home and alone for much of her early life, a possible explanation for her wild and almost dangerous imagination. She began to “see” mythical creatures as her special friends at around the age of ten, her experiences with them growing rapidly more complex and exciting as she dreamed her way through school, college and a scummy office job, right up until the age of thirty, when her life-changing flight with the Dragon Tooku prompted her almost chronic fear of clouds and cloud-like weather structures. After this, she gave up her job, the perils of getting there every morning becoming too much for her to handle, and became a hermit of sorts, living inside and managing with the money her parents left to her in their will, both of them having died when Evri was too preoccupied to notice. She was therefore rather surprised to find that her very old parents, who had always been a mere smudge in the distance of her hazy life, had popped their clogs at the ripe old ages of ninety, leaving her lots of money while they went about it.
Talents: Evri is very persuasive, having spent most of her life attempting to persuade people of the existence of Dragons etc. However, she isn’t quite persuasive enough, as they never seem to believe her. (odd that...) Other than this inherent persuasiveness, Evri has a talent for spotting a cloud miles on the horizon, and reflexes to match, as she runs for shelter, pulling on her protective clothes.
She also has a talent for painting and prettifying otherwise pieces of crap, such as a pigeon feather, or a seashell, and then convincing herself that she obtained the artefact as a gift from one of her mythical friends.
Other: Sometimes, she mutters things in French to Tooku, her childhood friend.

[u]Elements.
(1) Mental – Believes vehemently in the existence of mythical beasts such as the Dragon, the Unicorn and the Phoenix and will use every opportunity presented to try and persuade others of this fact, providing “evidence” and “eye-witness accounts”.
(2) Physical/Mental – Carries around a small bag containing artefacts collected from the mythical beings and her encounters with them. Gets panicky if the bag is not present, and uses it as a comforter in times of stress, stroking it unconsciously as if possessed with a nervous tendency.
(3) Mental – Because of one of her “encounters” with a Dragon, flying with it too high up caused her to faint from breathlessness, and plummet only to be saved by said Dragon. She holds the clouds responsible for her fall, and has developed an irrational fear of them, refusing to go outside in cloudy weather, rain or fog, unless she is properly protected. If she is caught out in such weather, and has none of her protective clothing with her, she will almost hyperventilate in panic, panting and twitching as if having a fit of asthma.

~

[color=#b0c4de]Thefting Character No: 1, property of Ace-san – Ricardo the Merchant
Name: Birth Name- Anthony Kirlack. Alias- Ricardo the Merchant.
Race: Human
Gender: Male
Age: 48
Appearance: About 5'7'',medium size not too tall, not too large. His eyes are a greyish-brown, with a head of salt-and-pepper hair cut short. His right eye is a milky white, the result of a birth defect, but he prefers not to cover it up, though he does own an eye patch. He isn't particularly athletic, but neither is he a weakling at all. Besides his eye, he appears to be perfectly average, nothing outstanding at all. He appears to be wealthy, but judging by his clothes...his preferred method of travel...can one be sure?
Clothing and Gear: Ricardo wears a grey trenchcoat and a dapper black hat, which just covers his eyes. A number of rings cover his fingers, with jewels of differing worth perched atop them. His merchandise is kept in a large, covered wagon, driven by two large black stallions, named Thunder and Lightning. He carries a variety of products, just about anything one might find useful, from weapons to knick-knacks to appliances to clothing. He seems to have something for everyone. In addition, he carries some merchandise on his person, hidden in his coat.
Personality: Ricardo is a charming and charismatic character- every word that comes out of his mouth seems to have been planned, designed to create a certain effect on the subject. He's very observant, gauging the effect his speech has on another and tailoring his conversation to whatever end. Some say that it is cunning to be able to sell heat in the south and ice in the north, but one wouldn't dream of calling Ricardo a con man. Heavens, no! He's a salesman after all, only looking out for your best interest. Yet, Ricardo has few close friends despite these qualities. The merchant is a only a facade- no one has ever glimpsed Ricardo's true mind- though there have been suspicions. Ricardo despises generosity of any sort, and believes selfishness is a valuable characteristic, one which he honours to no degree. Yet, no one would accuse him of being selfish. How curious. He has the peculiar honour of being one of the few merchants with a caravan who has never once been attacked by thugs or raiders. In fact, he doesn't even employ a guard.
History: Anthony was the son of a poor, widowed . He grew up poor, but he never once despised his station, or his lot in life. He simply set out to make the most of himself with the skills he was given- quick wits and a silver tongue. He began as a cashier in a local drug store- through a combination of opportunistic luck, networking and calculation, he soon took over the store with the previous owner's 'untimely' death. From there, he introduced several new drugs into the market, and the rest is history. He made sure his father was taken care of, paying off their debts and securing a life for his father, not out of kindness but out of familial duty. Aside from his father, Ricardo has no other relatives. Eventually, he took to the road, travelling far and wide to peddle his goods. He's recognized, but never expected- his path is never the same twice.
Talents: Charisma and speech skills, along with uncommon wealth and the knowledge needed to use it correctly.
Other:

1. Blind in his right eye, which affects his depth perception. However, he's learned to compensate for this handicap, since he's lived with it all his life.
2. Treasures selfishness over generosity- apt to favour those who share this view over those who do not.
3. His horses, Thunder and Lightning- they don't seem to struggle at all at carrying the wagon, no matter how much merchandise he loads up. When asked were he acquired the horses, he answers only with an enigmatic smile.

~

[color=#b0c4de]~Evri San~
sans amis, nous ne sommes rien*

[color=#b0c4de]It was in a mumbling, shuffling, cloudless way that Evri San made her way to the shops. The sun was cracking the flags, as it were, and there was not a cloud in sight; a fact that only increased Evri’s happiness.

Humming a little song as she went, one eye constantly and warily on the horizon, she padded through the crowds, oblivious of anyone other than herself, the weather and Tooku.

The large dragon flapped his solitary way behind Evri, keeping his distance, but staying close enough to keep a beady eye on her. For he loved Evri, and had never forgiven himself for the day when she had tumbled from his back, eyes closed and parting the clouds in her graceful fall.

From that day on, he had promised to keep her safe, and since not many people actually acknowledged his presence, Tooku felt safe in the world.

Gesturing to her best friend, Evri called out softly, lest someone else hear her;

“Tooku, hate, le magasin sera fermeture bientôt, et vous dally ainsi.(1)” Sighing gently, Evri stepped up the pace a little, aware of Tooku’s swishing wings behind her, a comforting presence in the bustle of the crowded streets of Paris.

Delving her left hand into the little bag at her waist, Evri fingered a small scale, then hurriedly stepped into the supermarché(2) to buy food for the week. Turning with a sigh of impatience, her eyes widened as she took in the large absence of Tooku which confronted her.

“Tooku!” She called, certain that this was a mere trick. He had always had a mischievous side, her Tooku. He had always enjoyed playing tricks on Evri. But something felt wrong about this one.

Tooku’s disappearances were usually punctuated with sniggers and giggles, as the dragon just couldn’t keep himself quiet. This time, there was only the unfriendly silence of the crowds, the busy beeping of the supermarché; cold and unfeeling.

And it shut Evri out as she cried. Falling to her knees, she grasped at the contents of her little bag, pulling out a perfect bronze scale tinted with green.

Tooku’s.

And Evri cried.

She cried until a heavy hand fell on her shoulder; rough, heavy, but kindly. Tear-stained, she looked up into the odd eyes of a man. He had an eye patch dangling around his neck and a large grin plastered on his face.

The single eye which wasn’t engaged in being white and unseeing twinkled at her as he held out his hand and pulled Evri to her feet.

“Now lass, whas the matter? A pretty face like yours all crinkled up and crying, we can’t have that now, can we?” Evri smiled shyly, wiping her eyes on a grubby sleeve.

“Mon ami...”(3) She muttered. “Il est allé!”(4) The man’s blank face took a moment to register with her, before she realised that she had been talking in French.

“Désolé(5)...sorry!” She exclaimed. “I.. I didn’t realise I was... désolé...désolé!” She burst into tears once more, nose running and eyes streaming.

“My friend’s gone...” She whispered. “I was there, and he was there, and then I was there and he was gone!” The man held out a large red hanky, which Evri took gratefully and promptly sniffled into.

“Tooku...” He patted her gently on the arm.

“Now then lass. Is his name Tooku?” A nod. “Right, well I’ll help you find him then. My name’s Ricardo and ‘tis a pleasure to meet you love.” She smiled through the veil of tears before holding out her hand uncertainly. Once, Evri had heard that hands were meant to shake when you greeted someone, but she had never quite grasped the concept.

Ricardo twinkled at her and wrapped his fingers round hers, squeezing once before bringing the hand up to his lips and kissing the back in the way of a true gentleman.

“Now, where did you last see him... uh, what’s your name?”

“Je m’appelle(6), uh, my name’s Evri sir. Evri San. And I saw him just out there.” Evri pointed her grubby hand in the direction of the supermarkets automatic doors and beyond.

“He was just there, and then he was gone!” She began to look distressed again, and Ricardo hurriedly pushed her out of the door and looked around.

“What does he look like?” Evri smiled wistfully, and held out the scale which had been clutched so tightly in her hand.

“His scales are this colour, and he has big wings the size of a house! And his eyes are golden and he has long green whiskers and a long tail with a spike on the end and-”

“Something tells me your friend isn’t a human, lass...” Ricardo looked unsure before regaining his composure. “But no matter! I’m sure we’ll be able to track him down!” Whistling piercingly, he winked at Evri before turning to the pair of huge horses which were cantering down the road, seemingly oblivious to the crowds they were parting. “I’m sure I’ve got something in my wagon that’ll find your mate for you.” He trailed off as he rummaged in the back of the cart before holding up what appeared to be a compass with a look of triumph etched on his face.

“I knew I had one somewhere! If this doesn’t find him, (Tooku you said his name was, right?) then nothing will.” He took the scale gently from Evri’s still outstretched hand and inserted it into a slot in the base of the contraption.

Evri peered at the machine from under her hat, fascinated by the faint ticking noise which emanated from the box which her scale had gone in.

“That’s a real scale, you know.” She chirped, unsure of what to say.

“Of course it is love.” Ricardo winked at her once more before twiddling a knob on the side of the box and clucking his tongue. Flipping the lid open, he peered once inside then snapped it shut and whirled round to Evri.

“T’would seem that your friend, Evri my love, has, like you said, gone. But don’t worry, for he is waiting for you in a secret place.” His single eye glowered solemnly at Evri from under his own large hat.

“Uh, does it say where?” She enquired, softly and with a little fear in her voice; for this man was frightening in a strange way, but Evri still found herself liking him, even though her instincts screamed for her to run.

He tapped his chest. “In here.” Winking once more, he placed the compass back in his van with a flourish and a swish of cloak before whirling once more to kiss Evri’s hand.

“And I am glad to be of a service lass. You don’t forget me, now.” He bowed once, low and with a twirl of his hat, he was gone.

“Merci...”(7) Evri mumbled, a single tear rolling down her face. She clutched his hanky, and realised that Ricardo had made off with her scale.

Smiling through fresh tears, she tapped her chest in the place he had shown to her and closed her eyes, tight.

“Dans ici...”(8 ) She carefully opened one eye, the other kept tightly shut, just in case.

A squeal, and both eyes flew open as Evri charged through the streets towards a familiar, bronzen face.

“Tooku!” She yelled, arms outstretched, she threw herself at the dragon hovering a metre above the pavement.

“I'ai su que vous ne me laisseriez pas!”(9)

[color=silver]~

[color=#b0c4de]A list of translations.

* Without friends, we are nothing.
(1) Hurry, the store will be closing soon and you dally so!
(2) Supermarket
(3) My friend...
(4) He’s gone...
(5) Sorry!
(6) My name is...
(7) Thank you.
(8 ) In here..
(9) I knew you wouldn’t leave me!

[Vulpix.ck87]

Forgive me.. ( I tried to stay on topic, I really did! ;_; )

Name: Caspian P. Rupert
Race: Human
Gender: Male
Age: 22
Appearance: He comes from an American-Sicilian bloodline, and it shows in his dark hair and eyes, which are as black as black can be. But his skin is as pale as his father's, and his features are as sharp and honed. As a result he’s quite stark, but it suits him quite well.. He has this nasty facial twitch that he gets now and then, and it makes him look suitably deranged as his eye starts going, as well as a little tug at the corner of his mouth - it can be quite alarming for anyone close to him. He’s quite tall and reasonably skinny - 6'2", broad shouldered and slim - and he runs five miles a day to maintain his physique. He’s currently sporting a puny moustache more fitting of a whutret, though he’s prone to spontaneous bouts of facial hair. His fringe has grown somewhat, and is now caught mid-flop in a messy-somewhat-vertical curtain of hair - the tips of which often poke him in the eye - which is parted to the left side. The rest of his hair is a bit shorter, and kind of kicks up at the back, with matching kinky sideburns. He’s would be handsome if it weren’t for his involuntary twitch and that terrible moustache..
Clothing and Gear: Wears a black suit - what else? White shirt, black jacket and sleek trousers. Black tie. His wallet is Italian leather, black and bi-fold, housing a few battered notes and a half struck book of matches that reads Angelo’s on the cover. He keeps a beretta 92 in the holster under his jacket. At home he has a small cuddly gorilla plushie which goes by the name of Mr Nanas.
Personality: Past events affected him in ways very different to his brother - instead of withdrawing from the world, instead he put himself out there, though not in the most sensible way. Pursuing a career of crime after a friend offered him money and family, he joined the Sicilian mafia, and he went down a treat. He’s not a naturally violent person, though he often seems unhinged. He was a troubled teenager, though he knew his parents loved him whilst they were always away, and after their death he viewed life in a detached kind of way. Though his younger brother thinks he doesn’t care about him it’s quite the opposite - Caspian doesn’t want to bring Iccaheb into his world of violence, and he knows he’d just be a bad example on the boy anyway, who hero worships him and views him as a role model. He’s not a bad person, he just doesn’t believe that this world is real and goes about his killing chores with no remorse(for the most part). He just doesn’t feel, and ironically, he knows that should hurt him, but it doesn’t, he can’t be affected for some reason - he is empty. The only emotions he feels are worry and love for his brother, and a secret nourished fondness for Mr Nanas. (In Caspian’s dreams Mr Nanas holds a lot of sway - he uses them to rally his gorilla comrades and to plot against the enemy. If Caspian ever daydreams it is usually about these fictional schemes.)
History: He was born to an American father and a Sicilian mother, both of whom met in Prague, how odd. They married quickly and settled down briefly to produce a son before setting off on their travels again. Whilst they were multilingual, Caspian only learnt Sicilian as a child, yet most of his words were lost as they moved to his father’s homeland - America, Chicago to be more exact. He became fluent in English whilst his mother tongue was forgotten, though it sometimes crops up in his dreams. They stayed there until he was 12. When he was ten his younger brother came along, and Caspian was responsible for naming him, not that he remembers. By the time his little brother was two they were on the move again, constantly travelling. His mother was a geologist and his father an architect, and between visiting foreign countries and studying the rock formations and local habitats they managed to home school Caspian and his little brother, Iccaheb. When Cas was seventeen, the four-wheel his parents were travelling in went off a mountainside road whilst heading into the Pyrenees Mountains, and the car tumbled down into a shallow ravine. By some stroke of luck, Caspian had been out of the vehicle at the time in a small town to the south, but Iccaheb was in the backseat and witnessed his parents’ death in the twirly mayhem before he himself was knocked unconscious. The car was jammed between the narrow walls of the ravine, and Iccaheb had to be carefully pulled out of the wreck of which the front end was completely obliterated. Due to a build up of carbon monoxide in the vehicle after the crash Iccaheb suffered hypoxia and went into cardiac arrest in the ambulance, and although they had to restart Iccaheb’s heart he thankfully escaped with little more than a few scratches and a broken ankle. Iccaheb went to live with an aunt whilst Caspian took up his friend’s offer and joined a small organization which turned out to be part of the Sicilian Mafia. Whoops!
Talents: He’s pretty sharp with his handgun, so he fairs ok in a fight I suppose - he has this uncanny ability to see through walls and blow holes through the person on the other side. Poor them.
Other: Mr Nanas was a childhood toy, and was like a security blanket to Cas, who took him simply everywhere. Nevertheless, Caspian kept him in immaculate condition - Mr Nanas is in perfect health to carry on with his guerrilla Banana Campaign - fighting for gorilla rights and the like, and ripping the guano out of those who oppose them. Mr Nanas reminds Cas of a time when he felt happiness, and misery, and terror, and other such fabulous emotions. If only he could feel again..

1. When passing windows, mirrors, or things with even a vaguely reflective surface it is customary for Caspian to do three things in perfect order: No. 1: Stop. No. 2: Squint at his reflection crookedly. No. 3: Straighten his tie. It is a compulsion, unfortunately, and it seems he stops to straighten it even when it is already straight! There are several theories circulating that he messes it up between windows too..
2. He has a slight twitch, mostly that just flickers his eye and tugs at his mouth. It’s not grotesque or gruesome in it’s manner, or that frequent, just slightly unnerving as his expression begins to contort..
3. Along with the twitch, he has a terrible habit of constantly chattering his teeth. Sometimes it’s in jest, sometimes it acts as filler between sentences. He doesn’t really notice he’s doing it, but he knows that he does. By the time he realises he’s doing it it’s often too late, it has gripped him, and he has to finish the chatter he’s on. Sometimes he has to click a certain tune before he can stop, or a certain sequence of chittering. As well as this, much along the same lines, he has a tendancy to play with the safety on his gun, flicking it back, forth, back.. Over and over. It’ll drive you insane, as he clicks away, teeth rattling in his skull, and can be pretty creepy if you hear him coming to get ya.. “Chatter chatter, click click..”

He smokes but it’s not oft he gets through a cigarette - mostly they just end up chewed by his crazy teeth.

(Oh, and the Zangoose..!)

In the Second City

The clock ticked, and unawares to the sheer amount of brain-clawing annoyance he was exerting upon the other people in the room at that very moment, Caspian P. Rupert sat in his chair, swivelling back and forth, clicking with every ‘tick’ and clacking with every ‘tock’. His ‘associates’ stood around the desk, respectfully, putting on a good face, and meanwhile grinding their own teeth to dust. Gods, they detested working with this man. But despite the shifty allegations and the perturbing situation of his presumably (only explicably) lost-at-sea emotions - and the, er, teeth.. thing - he was most painfully admitted by co-workers as ‘a job well done’. If Caspian learnt of this, he wouldn’t be deplorably smarmy, gloating to his fellows, no no, he’d just sigh, cross his legs, and swivel away. ‘A job well done’? ‘Tshk & Sigh.’ It pained him that they knew so little - put simply: he was a messy job well done, and there was generally a lot of mess on the walls. Perhaps if they took the time to look in now and then they would change their minds, especially upon sight of Caspian in his marigolds with his sponge, the noir man scrubbing away at the walls and cussing the bits of brain that had fallen behind the sofa. Neat freak that he was.

But anyways, back to the moment at hand, with all its glistening lucidity and shiz. Pasadena, an old hand and deemed ‘almighty father’ by all but the story’s focus, stood straight backed, pristine suit and tie a set example, his only telltale signs of pissiness were the less than casual flicks of his eyes to the chair’s occupant. With considerably smaller amounts of restraint there leant Marty Soscócha by the door, boring holes of hate through our chattering gun minion. The only other informal in the room was the new kid: Dana Loquenza, who slumped by the water fountain, head against the warped plastic; numb with boredom and feeling seasick every time a bubble broke the surface, though sunk too deep into a state of lethargy to break his torpid gaze. Messier Rupert swished, contentedly petting his beretta and gnawing on a cigarette.

As Cas chattered his way to five o’clock, Pasadena began to shift, and not before long, as predicted, Herman C. Fellows re-entered his office. Upon opening the door and setting a hastily withdrawn toe upon the carpet; he halted, ducked, and began to choke on his own tongue. As he collapsed on the floor in a sincere faint, Caspian rose from his chair and clambered over the desk only to peer down mirthless at the insensate form of Mr Fellows. Without shifting his gaze he waved a vague wave at Loquenza and Marty, who approached the unconscious form of the accountant without caution and dragged him over the threshold. As soon as that was done Caspian drew his weapon, dropped to one knee, and began to slap Mr. Fellows on the cheek with the beretta. Pasadena stood above him, and hence was the first thing to register in Herman’s hazy anaemia-addled brain. His teeth glinted in the half light pouring through the blinds.

“Afternoon, Sunshine.” He spoke as only crown-toothed sharks know how, the honed metal in his mouth resounding satisfactorily with every syllable. “We’ve come to talk business.”

------------------

The lone man, taxi-lagged from east Chicago and chatter weary, stood on his own doorstep, reading the tenants respective monikers and epithets as he stumbled down the list of buzzers. His finger hovered like a drunken bumblebee, spoilt for choice over the sweetest nectar and the prettiest petals. For over-precarious safety reasons he no longer held the key to his own flat, something that he was still confused about, though he had an idea that his louse of a younger brother had swindled it from him with silent lies and puppy dog eyes. But dwelling on such things did not open doors. Guns open doors.. No no, Can’t do that. Gotta snap to attention. Cas’ dozing brain sputtered in the process of trying to recognise his own name, but gave a jerk as he hit a few familiar initials.

“Roo-roo-pahh..” He babbled, mid yawn, “Ah, there we are.” He lackadaisically pushed the button, humming Ave Maria-meets-Mario Kart to himself and responding ‘Lemme in’ to the boy who answered the buzz call (albeit; answered with no words). Unslumping himself from the doorway, he made his way in and up the stairs, past familiar doorways and pushing open the brass topped door of no. 13A. A garlculian smell met his nostrils with a tantalising succinctity, and Cas could not help but lick his lips.

Kicking off his black shoes with a vengeance, he patted down the hall in black cotton socks. The ruckus he had made attempting to de-lace the shoes in his half-sleep (before realising they did not have laces) had inevitably roused his brother, who peered at him wide eyed through the inch of open door, before snapping it shut and scuttling away. Cas heard a scuffle and presumed Iccaheb was going back to his shelf in the linen cupboard to tuck himself in for the night. Good. He didn’t have the energy to deal with him after the day he’d had. Instead, a welcome change, he merely sat down at the dinner table in the open kitchen, and tucked into the cold meal that awaited him. He didn’t particularly care about the pallid texture of the cooled meal; in comparison to his cold blood and his cold heart, the meal was relatively toasty.

A clean dish stood sopping on the washer board, showing that Iccaheb had already eaten his share and cleaned up after himself. Cas wished he would take such care in stowing away his toys and clutter - seemingly Iccaheb felt the apartment need jazzing up, and there lay several toys around - an action figure doll, a nerf gun, and, sat in the chair opposite him, almost staring at him, a large pokemon stuffed plushie. Cas spared it barely a glance though, hungry as he was. He dug into the pasta, and the tomato crunge coating, and wolfed it down like said ravenous hound. He supposed his brother had a charm for the cooking and the roasting and the broiling and other such kitcheny processes, or maybe he just implemented a sophisticated ploy of herbs and seasoning to every meal. The latter seemed more likely, as Cas squinted down he recognised the oregano, and the sprinkling of rosemary, and something that looked like paprika, but what tasted a lot buzzier. Cas lapped it up anywho, and for the next couple of minutes the only sound in the dead kitchen was a strange ‘rarfing’ noise, that I suppose had to be attributed to Cas’ intake process. The only noise, that is, until the stuffed pokemon started talking to itself. Cas’ head snapped up at whiplash velocity,and he stared wide eyed at the scurvy creature sat across from him. It now perched with it’s legs crossed, apparently oblivious to Caspian’s presence and shock. Unlike normal people, Cas somewhat relaxed upon seeing it was doing the crossword from the Sunday paper, and took his hand off of his gun.

The creature was intensely vivid, so much that Caspian could distinguish every hair on it’s person, however Cas did not care. It would come to the sane’s person attention that Cas should have been marginally more alarmed than he was about seeing a walking talking fictional creature in his house, and perhaps that he should start contemplating the possibility of a pre-mid-life crisis, but the fact of the matter was that Cas did not tolerate trespassing upon his meagre property, imaginary or no.

“Pardon me sir, but I was wondering why you are sat in my kitchen?” He inquired politely and softly, leaning over his plate and scraping up the pasta crunge with the tip of his tie.

The dirty white felt seemed to have exploded up into lush white fur, a zag of soot stripe markings littering it’s spine. It’s paws were infinitely more gruesome and real looking, harvesting a jolly sharp set of claws, and the scratched glass eye had evolved into a glazed orifice that swivelled in it’s fuzzy skull, clouded so white it was barely distinguishable from it’s pale fur. The other eye, black, quick and wary, regarded him shrewdly from across the table, like one regards an impudent child, before going back to his crossword. Cas grabbed his fork, leant over and slammed his fork into the closest end of the paper, the fork reverberating as the prongs stuck fast into the table. The Zangoose simply leant forward and peered around it, and mumbled something about 6 down and Shakespeare’s posthumous publications of 1623.

“Excuse me, did you hear me?” Caspian questioned. “ I asked why the hell you’re sat in my house.” An aggressive tone worked wonders to catch the pokemon’s attention, and it’s head flicked up, catlike in it’s movement. Cas half expected it to meow. It’s bushy tail draped to the ground, twitching now and then.

“I needed to flurble at the gingel janbob..” The creature muttered, trailing off several times mid sentence, eyes twitching reproachfully at him every few seconds. Seeing his stony expression it winced. “..Bananas?” It squeezed it’s eyes shut as Caspian’s fists hit the table with a resounding thud.

“Don’t skirt the question!” He shouted at the foot high weasel monstrosity, before catching himself and blinking. He squinted down at the animal. That’s what it was.. An animal.

“Haha, I’m talking to vermin..” Caspian chuckled softly to himself, standing up straight and covering his face with his hands. His crooked smile could be seen under his palms. “Oh, that’s so silly of me.. Why didn’t I just exterminate the little rat when I first saw it?” He pulled his gun from his jacket and aimed quickly, before the deformed rodent creature had time to react. And yet as he pulled the trigger..

“NOOO!” A tiny black form spun through the air and landed on the top of his beretta, knocking the muzzle downwards and consequentially causing him to shoot a hole through the table. As the shot fired with a ‘kablam’, the gorilla slumped off the side and swung exhausted but relieved to the table. He sighed in relief, before gathering breath and continuing to yell.

“DROP YOUR WEAPON COMRADE!” Cas dropped his gun, mostly from shock than out of obedience. Things were getting really weird, and Cas wondered what had been in the pasta.

“Mr Nanas, what are you doing?!” Caspian cried at the tiny ape, an eighth of his size.

“This is our new comrade, Caspian! You can’t kill him!”

“Mumle mumble!” The Zangoose muttered in defiant agreement. Cas supposed it might translate to a ‘damn right!’, but continued to be confused.

“Whu…?”

“Look, some bad shit’s going down over the next few days, I can’t quite explain now, but the world’s coming to an end.”

“WHAT!?”

“You hear me, Cas? This is the biggest mission yet. I really think we’ve got a chance to make a difference to banana rights. No more government cover up, a voice from the people, to give the people what they deserve! Sweet, succulent, yellowey goodness!”

“But Mr Nanas.” Cas stuttered to his childhood stuffed toy. “You’re not making any sense. This Zangoose is my brother’s toy. He’s nothing but a plaything to a twelve year old boy. And what have bananas got to do with saving the world?”

“mumble mumble..”

“Yes, well, we’ll dispose of the child for his insolence later.” Mr Nanas waves a hand dismissively. “And bananas have everything to do with it! For now, I need you to find your old associate Gezhia, check the usual hideouts first..”

“But he’s not missing, I saw him this morning!” Cas protested, this time a little smugly so and somewhat sing-song. He lit his cigarette in a toffish way, (with a little head jaunt and cruising eyebrows), took a drag and let it out. Indeed, ‘Gezh’ had been by to drop some ‘product’ off, and Caspian knew Mr Nanas was just being silly.

“Don’t you use that musical tone with me, boy! I’M YOUR SUPERIOR." He slapped the cigarette from Cas' mouth. "Now start taking this seriously. You may think you saw him, Caspian, but he’s been taken by the enemy! So you need to cooperate with this soldier, it’s the only way you‘ll get though.” He said, motioning towards the Zangoose.

“Oh.” Caspian supposed he should ‘get serious’. “So what’s his name then?” he pointed to the pokemon.

“Mumble.. Leo..” The ferret-thang muttered feverishly. “..mumble.”

“Ah. And what is with the mumbling?”

“Mumblraglehurraj!”

“All I can say is: he’s a little shy, but a genius I tells ya!” Mr Nanas said, a glint of insanity in his eye. He loped over and patted Leo on the back, giving a full endorsement campaign with one charming gorilla smile. Almost won over, Cas barely hung onto his doubt, but did so with a grudge.

“Very.. informative. Yes. So.. So the world’s ending..? And you sent a socially inept pokemon to help me out?” Cas questioned, not feeling that he was being unreasonable. “And he’s supposed to tell me what to do? He hasn’t given me two words yet.”

“Leo came to help us Caspian my boy. He knows things. And he can communicate in ways you never imagined.” The Zangoose flexed his claws and Cas pushed his chair back. “So listen up..” And Mr Nanas proceeded to make ‘wsh wsh wsh’ whispering noises into his ear that still made no sense even when Cas fell face first into his pasta plate. Out of the corner of his eye the Zangoose went back to it’s crossword, and cursed twelve down. And Mr Nanas cycled away on a miniature bicycle, shiny and red.

“CONQUEST! RIGHTS FOR APES!”

“Mumble mumble.”

“Groann..”

------------------

“Click. Clickclickclick… snoozleroozleroo..” The black and white man snored as little prince fluffy puff skipped past him. At 7:30 in the morning Iccaheb was all sunbeams and rainbow drops, and as he cantered by with toy unicorn in hand towards the cereal cupboard, he made a small stop to allow his toy to take onboard a passenger, and placed the Zangoose neatly on the unicorn’s fuzzy-pink back, only to leave them both on the chair. Blinking blearily at the sounds of slippered feet clippity-clopping through the apartment, Caspian looked as if just crawled out of the garbage disposal, and now laid tousled in a creased suit, moustache askew and his hair housing an army of macaroni. He winced as Iccaheb slammed several cupboard doors in frantic search for sugary goods, dragged a chair the whole length of the kitchen floor, and stood jumping up and down on it before seizing a jolly red box of card and cereal and marshmallow. Smiling at the leprechaun on the front he grabbed his bowl and some milk, and strolled back to the lounge to sit in front of the tv, making a tributary ‘T’ at the screen as ‘Transformers!’ sounded from the tele.. box.. thing. Cas forgot the full word, and instead peered with an aching head as Iccaheb filtered all the marshmallow from the possibly nutritious, miscellaneous ‘other’ part of the cereal and scarfled the soggy goods.

Pulling his gaze away from the perky little ass that was his brother, Caspian stretched upwards into a vague semblance of ‘sitting’, unfolded the crushed box of Marlboro reds from his pocket, and popped a wonky cigarette into his mouth. Patting his pockets down he found no lighter so proceeded to the hob, where he ignited the gas stove and leant down to dip the tip of his deathstick into the flames, drawing a hazy puff of relief in as it began to burn.

“Ahhh.”

The world began to come into focus, and the first thing Cas took note of was his own dishevelled appearance. He grabbed a spoon to check his reflection and straightened his tie in it. Tilting it somewhat, he gave a huge jump as he spotted the reflection of a Zangoose sat in the chair. Cas spun around in terror as a whole party of memories from last night’s goings on tumbled back into his achey head, spilling their drinks and throwing canapés at the walls.

“Rarp!” He yelped softly, and walked cautiously over to the Zangoose. It’s beady eyes watched him. It now had a compatriot, the bedevilled unicorn that flounced half-saddled underneath it, and Caspian viewed them both with malice. Then he scoffed in a weak non-convincing way. They weren’t real.

“End of the world, hah. I’ll show you.”

The doorbell buzzed, and Cas sauntered over smugly to answer the intercom, keeping up the pretence of confidence.

“(Crackle).” .. “Hey, it’s Gezh. Long time no see, brother. I’ve come for the horse.”

“Hey Gezhia, come on up.” Cas said, and took his finger off the talk button. He turned around to gloat to Leo the Zangoose, who remained as motionless as the day he was stuffed. “See, he’s not been kidnapped, he’s all walkey and.. stuff..” The cogs turned.. “Walkey.. up the stairs.. … … ..To pick up the..” the colour drained from his face. “..Oh shit.” As Cas turned away from Leo he could of sworn he heard a mumble of a laugh.

“No no no no no..” Cas said, and ran over to the paprika spice pot which was, Cas was horrified to see, actually full (or half-full, to be more accurate) of gold-brown ‘seasoning’, instead of housing the previously plastic-bagged packet of substance. Cas’ blood ran cold(er) and his teeth went into overdrive.

He had been.. How to put it? ‘Safeguarding’.. a small package of.. Not-exactly-legal.. powder. Yes. Looking after said powder for a friend, mid-transaction. Just for a day. But it seemed Iccaheb had used it in last night’s meal, as that over-sprinkling of paprika. Well, that explained the talking stuffed animals, Cas supposed. Infact.. He spun around and pointed at the Zangoose.

“You!!” he hissed accusatorily in a low voice. “You did this!” The doorbell rang. OhShit! Cas grabbed some of the polythene Iccaheb had been using to wrap his sandwiches in, and poured the contents of the paprika container upon it, before wrapping it into a hasty little bundle, sandwich crumbs and all.

“Oh, you can’t tell you can’t tell.” Cas muttered, doing a damn fine job of convincing himself before strolling over to the door, which Iccaheb had just opened. The boy in the My Little Pony pyjamas stood in the hall, one hand on the door, looking up at the tall, means-business Gezhia, who simply looked confused at the mute child. Gezhia had a kind heart though; a piteous man whose ancestors had been rocked by the blows dealt to them - from a long hard line of Red Indian’s, Gezhia still stood as one of his people in his heart, though driven to dirty deeds via desperation in this new and cruel world. He was an old soul trapped in torment, and though he tried to live by his Gods, they were mostly forgotten in New America, and he often felt alone, not for lack of faith, but for lack of things to have faith in.

When he met the eyes everything slotted in nicely - Gezhia dressed colour coded to perfection, though seemed not to know of the notion ‘being inconspicuous’. Indeed, he wore the scorned pelt of a wolverine as a bag, and a russet velour jacket over tailored leather pants, with a hasty trim cut of rouge faux-fur around the collar. Upon anyone else it is likely the jacket would look like a hooker’s cast off - and indeed he saw his garb reflected in that of some of the two-spirits who stood on the city’s street corners - but on him, it worked nicely. The terracotta ran through to his bones, hinted from his cropped ebony hair to his tan skin. His nose was bold and his eyes gleamed chestnut-black, and you knew would never forget his face once you had glanced upon it - it was the face of every native American you knew, even though sullied by the infectious perversions of modern culture. And so his elders were sad he had fallen to such a way of living, and to such clandestine habits (as they alluded to them), but Gezhia fit right in with Cas’ crowd. Caspian glared at his brother.

Horse? Iccaheb’s big wide eyes questioned.

“Move it runt, go get dressed,” Cas said, thwacking him on the head and ushering him off to his linen-closet bedroom.

“Hey Gezh!” Cas said loudly and jovially before the tail man threw his arms around him, patting him on the back and giving him a brotherly hug. Cas’ face twitched and he broke out into a cold sweat.

“How are you, did the thing with Fellows go smooth-?”

“Doing fine, went fine, but look, I’ve got to get the kid ready for school, so..”

“Right, say no more, we’ll make this quick then.” He grinned. “Got the stash on you?”

“Ye-es..!.. I’ve got it, fine and dandy as the day it was given to me, you know.. Yesterday.” he looked shifty and passed it to Gezh with a grin. “Here you go.”

“Great, I really think this is going be a good thing for both of us, you dig? They know we can be trusted now-”

“Yeah, brilliant, but look, like I say, I’ve got to get the kid of to school,” He made frantic motions out of the door “So..” He swung an arm around Gezh’s shoulders “You better be leaving..” and walked him to the exit “..ok? So bye!” He shut the door hastily and collapsed against it, listening to the confused retreating footsteps. When he heard the door shut at the bottom of the stairs he took a deep breath to steady himself. It did not work.

“OH SHIT, THE WORLD’S COMING TO AN END!” Caspian shouted at the top of his voice, clutching handfuls of hair and tugging. He yelped at the pain, and when he opened his eyes.. Iccaheb was stood in front of him, eyes wide open, mouth slightly agape. Cas stopped, looking shifty, and lowered his hands slowly, one coming to rest on his chest. His face twitched. He petted his gun underneath his jacket. He hesitated and sighed internally. You are DAMN lucky boy that I don’t believe in fratricide.. he thought, and pulled his hand away from the gun.

“I mean.. hey, run along to school, Louse.” He said, picking up the kid’s hello kitty bag and ushering him towards the door. “A-hah-a-hah, have a nice day.” As Cas swung the door shut, Iccaheb’s eyes pleaded ‘Bu-!’, but then found he was stood alone in the hall, just him and his pyjamas, hello kitty bag and slippers. He slunk desolately off to the bus stop.

Cas meanwhile wheeled away and back into the kitchen, popping two aspirin with no water and considering popping the rest, before dragging himself off and away to bed.

“Go to sleep, go to sleep, it’ll all go away.. Go away..” He muttered, stubbing the cigarette out in the black ashtray next to his bed, in mess of ash and a curl of smoke. He went to sleep face down in an unconscious effort to smother his own breathing, and fidgeted in his unconscious state, trying to desperately shimmy into an alternative happy dream state where drug barons would not hunt him down and kill him over a number of long, dark days.

------------------

Despite a good twelve hours of ‘see, told you it’d go away’ sleep-gloating to the inanimate creature that was Leo, and a dozen hours of hiding from Mr Nanas’ watchful gaze, Caspian had, unfortunately, been wrong.

Woken by the phone at 7:30pm, Cas barely lifted his face from the pillow as he answered the call. His gut sank with profoundity - he felt it slip through his stomach and fall onto the mattress with a mental ‘slllp’.
?
“Rrr-hrmm. You took him in?” He asked, monotone and muffled with goose feathers. “Drugs were cut? Fancy that.. Mmmmkay, see you in an hour.”

He sat up, sunk his face into his hands and nearly began to cry. They had taken Gezhia ‘in’ (by Caspian’s employers, no less), which meant he certainly wasn’t coming ‘out’ anytime soon. Kidnapping was kind of the word for it; after all, a ransom note would be sent to his nearest and dearest, as well as the organization who sent him with the drugs. Cas cursed himself for having friends in different circles, and cursed himself furthermore for having friends who thought he was reliable. There would always be a nasty little altercation somewhere along the line.. But he knew what he had to do. On no conditions could Gezhia let slip he had given the drugs to Cas to safeguard, because then they would know where the rest of the drugs had gone. Well, not exactly, no-one would guess a twelve year old boy had sprinkled them on a pasta dish and served it up cold. That bit was probably for the best; Cas morbidly got up, approached the sink, and washed last night’s plate in hot foamy water. As he pulled the plug and watched the last of the ‘paprika’ go down the drain, he sniffled. Wiping his eyes, he took a deep breath and turned around to look at the Zangoose.

“So what now, Leo? Mr Nanas said you’re the boss.” He whispered. And Leo replied. Cas changed suits, and ten minutes later was out of the house, pokemon plushie in his clutches.

------------------

Mid-Chicago and six blocks away stood an office skyscraper, and this is the destination where Caspian arrived, Leo underarm. He strolled past the hotdog vendor on the sidewalk and up the steps to the main entrance - grand, welcoming, and for many people, another day’s hard work. Straight through the lobby and Cas hadn’t spared it a glance, even as elaborate as it was; instead, after taking a brief moment to deposit the Zangoose toy on one of the chairs beside the elevators, he approached the lifts and waited patiently for one to arrive. It took a surprisingly short time to climb so high up the building, and he found himself in one of the lesser frequented areas of the structure, out of use and barely maintained. There were, however, people here, and they had been expecting him. He quickly straightened his tie in the reflection of a glass covered portrait, and was ushered towards the end of a hall to the very last door.

Wisely discarding with the more arrant members of the mob, the notorious-for-other-reasons Caspian was recruited regularly for interrogation and investigation, along with his other daytime duties like playing hitman. It was a good decision, as Cas had a natural talent of giving people the jitters. If anything though, as the door swung open and emitted the tall, narrow man into the room, Gezhia looked relieved, especially as Cas calmed him with a smile. The relief from the apprehension of possible torture overwhelmed Gezhia, and - thankful to the stars and the hero who stood before him - despite the brave face he had been putting on, he let his guard down. His comfort in the presence of the mafia man showed, mostly so as Gezhia’s hands began to tremble with anticipation.

Caspian turned softly to the man who stood by the exit, and signalled for him to leave. As the man did so Cas shut the door softly after him, took a chair from under a table in the spacious office, and sat down, crossing his legs slowly, the top half of his torso caught in darkness. He gazed out of the window, at the distant sunset over the Chicago city skyline, and at the deep blue that was setting in. The sunset wouldn’t take long, the room already half cast in shadow, and neither would his work. He lit a cigarette, and took a slow drag, absentmindedly smoothing the creases from his trousers with a free hand. Gezhia watched the ghost pale face of the man less cautiously than he should have done - he was blinded by appreciation of his saviour at this very moment, Gezh being a religious man and so very trusting. He could not believe it had only been a dozen or so hours since he had seen him that morning. The mafia worked fast though when displeased, Gezh’s situation was proof. From the shadows, the lit end of the cigarette dipped like a firefly, and a hand moved it into the light, resting calmly on one knee. He spoke quietly and methodically as the smoke from the tip curled upwards.

“Did you tell them about the incident?”

“No. No, I would never betray you Caspian. Our roots reach further than this soil, do they not? I would not betray you.” The man enunciated with his whole being, and you could almost hear Caspian’s own sigh of relief. If this man had told.. It would be the end. Not of his job, or his ‘family’s’ trust, but of his own life, and the lives of those he loved. Before Caspian, the boy would be taken, and if anyone got wind of Mister Nanas, him too.. As he thought of that lustful ape though, another person came to mind, and he thought of what Leo had told him before they made their way here.

Even away from the melee of drugs and their squandering consequences, Caspian had nevertheless found himself talking to the Zangoose toy once more that afternoon, the creature in all its real, intensely furred glory. It’s glazed eye had no longer mocked him, but instead it’s tail toyed playfully as it recited it’s advice. Never would the creature reveal himself to be so much help as Mr Nanas suggested, yet Cas trusted his fellow primate to the death, and would learn to listen and heed the words of the Zangoose. It had spoke in puzzling rhyme, and Cas had committed the poem to memory as if his life depended on it(which it did.). How he interpreted the words though.. That was where creative license came into it.

“Up to where white saints fly,
Whilst beneath a crest of cloud.
There belayed a man of red,
Awaiting Pietro’s proud.

An end of ends is all that stops,
The flow of things to come.
To service or to silence,
Is what ’graves the dead man’s tomb.”

Now stood in an office block on the 48th floor, snow-white pigeons huddling on the windowsill, Caspian thought of the words, and of the toy he had left downstairs in the lobby. It gave him strength, knowing Mr Nana’s soldier was in the same building, covering his back. Cas watched Gezhia shiver in the sudden cold. The shadows stretched further despite the flare of orange-gold that topped the cumulus on the horizon, and now both men sat in the fey darkness. Leo had given Caspian the key which he already held, as such, but as a command he had also given him the guts to do that which was previously impossible. For though mortal sin and guilt had stood in his way, Leo had since cleared that path, and Caspian stood alone now, capable.

“It is well, brother,” Caspian whispered, though not particularly to the man before him. “It is over.”

“You came to..?” Gezhia whispered, tears in his eyes.

“I came with a rescue,” Cas nodded. “A promise: I’m taking you out of this place.”

As a wide grin spread across Gezhia’s face Caspian rose to his feet, and walked towards the farthest window beyond Gezhia’s chair, where he turned to face the man’s back. Fully illuminated out of the shadows and in the last dying ray of light, his expression was now visible, though immersed in his salvation Gezhia thankfully did not see it..

The familiar little tug had begun to go, twitching the left corner of his mouth upwards, into something that horrifically resembled a smile, but that was not. His shark-like molars gleamed from under a single spasmodic lip, and one wondered if he lusted for blood as sharks do. If Gezhia had seen said facial happenings, one would most certainly remark, this would be the moment he chose to scream. But ignorance is indeed bliss, yes? Most certainly it was, as Caspian drew the gun from its holster.

Blood percolated the splintered bone, and trickled strong for several seconds following the shot. Beyond that his heart beat no more, and a lone spasm ran through the man as he saw god, and then as his soul was wrenched from his body. Unlike cliché though, the man was left with no beatific smile on his face, only an expression of tortured realisation - the look of a man who found his truth in death. Whether he met heaven or hell no-one knows, for his mind blanked out in that very next instant, and Caspian physically felt the room empty of his presence.

Now, the mindset of a ruthless killer isn’t half as harrowing as one might imagine. However, the killer often lets others reform to the assimilation of such falsities - that’s how reputations are built after all. Cognitive, spur of the moment, and heartless only when he remembered to be, Caspian was anything but in everyday life. Alluding to prior incidents, he was never as specific as he could have been about the deeds he committed, an act which spoke of a secret remorse adjacent to his deeds. Right now.. it was possible.. that he was feeling some of that rare remorse. And to him, that pretty much made the killing worth it.

He left the room, and Leo in the lobby, though not until he was passing under the street lamps a few blocks away did he realise. He walked home tonight, as he often walked after a killing - sometimes he imagined he was strolling away from his own sins. By the time he got home, it was commonplace for him to have forgotten why he hadn’t taken a cab - and he did wonder, for his suit was wet and his cigarette soggy from the drizzle - and therefore he remembered no guilt, and so the cycle continued. He would kill again, no doubt about it. And he and Iccaheb would live another day.

Entering the apartment after the day’s events, Cas felt world weary and hungry once more. Though he had been out but an hour or so, it seemed like the day had spanned an eternity. Ambling into the kitchen he removed his jacket and shoes, slinging the former over one of the hard backed chairs in the dining area and glancing at the table’s contents, coming to a halt.. upon sight of the plate of pasta on the table Iccaheb had left out for him. Stood stock-still, Cas blinked, and took the soggy dog end from his mouth (still alight despite the rain’s efforts to douse it) and chain-smoked the flame onto the next cigarette knocked from the pack.

Full flavour tar and nicotine and would do for supper tonight, Cas thought to himself, and was perfectly content.

BLAHAHAHAH.. @_@

EDIT: Changed one word, sorry sorry sorry..

[SuperSonicMewtwo]

This is the character of mine that I have chosen:

Name: SuperSonicMewtwo, aka SSM
Race: A cross of genetic structures between human and Mewtwo.
Gender: Male
Age: 19 Pokémon Universe Earth Years
Appearance: Human, approx. six feet tall. SSM has blackish brown hair that comes down over his green eyes. He is physically fit, but due to use of his powers (which means he doesn't always work his body out), his muscles are averaged sized, not as large as an athlete’s.
Clothing and Gear: SSM wears a loose fitting navy blue t-shirt with blue jeans and white tennis shoes. His jeans are held up with a black leather belt, which bears 6 empty Pokéballs. He wears glasses with black frames, which while he cannot see perfectly without them, they are not required for him to do simple activities involving eyesight. On top of everything else, SSM wears a black cloak that drapes over his body (think Batman's cape). SSM doesn't carry around food or tools; he relies on himself and the environment to get what he needs.
Personality: SSM is serious person, not one for making jokes. He is generally impatient with others' slowness, and prepares for worst-case scenarios. He can generally keep his cool, but if he IS angered, he can rush into something unplanned. He looks at Pokémon training as slavery in most cases. SSM prefers to work alone, and does not initially trust others, but someone who does earn SSM's trust has a lifelong ally whom will back them up every step of the way. Also, anyone who gets close to SSM will find he is secretly a romantic at heart, but refuses to let it out.
History: SSM was originally a Pokémon trainer named Michael Leiver. He thwarted Team Rocket plans throughout his training, but in the midst of Indigo League battles, was captured by the group. In captivity for three years, Michael's genetic make-up was modified to be a cross between human and Mewtwo’s, giving him psychic powers as well as speed exceeding that of any normal human. Michael attempted escape three times, and succeeded on the last time. Upon becoming free, Michael renamed himself SuperSonicMewtwo, to coincide with his new life and powers. He now fights against crime, Team Rocket, and his main antagonist, Chris, to free the world of evil.
Talents: SSM was trained by Team Rocket, who also gave him his powers. SSM has assorted psychic powers, including telepathy, telekinesis over objects (the strength of this varies indirectly with an object’s mass; the bigger the object, the less SSM can move it, if at all) and flight, as well as all of Mewtwo's attacks (as naturally received when training Mewtwo up and as seen in the movies). SSM can also fly and run at speeds faster than any normal human, but he is still easily outpaced by a man-made vehicle. The psychic power coursing through SSM's body gives him augmented physical abilities beyond those of someone with his build, but he rarely uses this strength for any more than simply punching an opponent. His belt can be used as a last ditch whip-weapon if need be.
Other: SSM's powers can increase substantially when he is angered, but he may become blinded by his anger, and unable to control his actions.
RPG Title: Mewtations 1-4, and the revived Mewtations.

And I have found it most suitable to use one of Bear's characters.

Name: Xavier "Bear" Lionheart
Race: Human
Gender: Male
Age: 48
Appearance: Bear stands about 6'8" and weighs over 250 lbs. He has a broad, muscular frame from all his years as a fighter. He has dark brown hair with a military cut, and hazelish-blue eyes. He has a couple of tattoos, the biggest being an American flag across his entire back, with the word FREEDOM underneath.
Clothing and Gear: Wears black, gray, and white camo pants (Marine corps issue), a black tank top, heavy black boots, and a gold crucifix necklace that he never takes off. He uses his bare hands to fight most of the time, but is quite skilled with the dual Sai. He keeps these on him just in case.
Personality: He's very outgoing and friendly, and a charismatic leader. Always has a kind word for people feeling down, and inspiration for those who've lost hope. Can be a bit squirrely at times, since his military training heightened his senses. He's always cracking jokes and being sarcastic, which can make him difficult to read sometimes.
History: From a very young age, Bear trained to fight. He aspired to be a military commander and martial artist. When his parents were executed on his 12th birthday, he vowed revenge on the oppressive regime that brought terror to the world and killed his parents. He continued training, and at 18 joined the military. He became an officer and a commando quickly, gaining valuable experience for his later endeavors. It was around this time that he discovered his unique physical ability to become invisible. It was at this time that he met Dr. Kranchik, a scientist, who instructed him to seek out others with similar traits. This was the birth of The Normals, an elite team of fighters that performed covert missions against the dominating Neo-Communist empire. He led this team for 25 years, until the downfall of the Empire. Since then, he's been teaching kickboxing to kids in a local Karate school.
Talents: This is where it gets interesting, since most of you have never been in the Normals RPGs. Bear actually possesses the ability to become invisible for short periods of time. He was apparently born with this ability. All members of the normals were born with a single, unique trait, such as animal metamorphosis or super speed. He could not use this ability at will initially, but over time he's gained more and more control over it. Now, with focus and willpower, he can implement his ability at any time. It only holds for a short period, though.
Other: This is where it all started. Among his accolades, Bear is the undisputed master of CHEESECAKE!
RPG Title: The Normals I, II, III, IV, and Resurgence

*~SuperSonicMewtwo~*

“We hear he is your colleague.”

I could feel the puddles splash underneath my shoes. Was it required that every enemy headquarters have dark corridors with bad lighting and leaking ceilings? The putrid stench of mold and who-knows-what-died filled the air. I refrained from wincing. This part of the operation required me to be as professional as possible. As quiet as possible. As unnoticeable possible. That also meant not using my powers; if I could keep from being detected for another minute, then I would make the extra effort to do so.

While the lighting was poor, I was still able to find what I was looking for: midway through this corridor was a hole in the floor, with a ladder leading to another path. That path would lead me to the control area of this base. I knew that it was from there that I could find out where to head next. I slowly made my decent down the ladder. A drop of water fell from the ceiling high above and landed on my glasses. Irritated, I squinted through the frames and continued downward. If I had simply jumped down, or teleported, then this trek would have been done in a matter of seconds, but now it was feeling like an eternity.

“We can’t say he will remain unharmed. But if you want him back, come and get him. We’ll be waiting.”

The trip so far had been remarkably easy. I knew I was heading into a trap, but it had to be done. I don’t leave my comrades behind. It may take me a long time to become close with someone, but once I am…

My foot extended downward to the next step, but it was not there. I had reached the bottom of the ladder. Trying to be as discrete as possible, I jumped to the floor. There was a soft splash, but nothing too obvious. I mentally recalled the design of the base in my head, made a 180° turn, and began walking again. I was heading further into enemy territory, so I had to remain alert.

It was no sooner that I reminded myself of this that I heard something slip. It was soft, but there.

A hand on the wet bar of another ladder, moving, as if it were letting go to drop down…

My reaction was instant. My right hand filled with blue fire as I spun around. I threw my energy blast before I could see my target, but I was sure that my trajectory was correct.

I made my turn complete and watched as the blast flew toward the silhouetted figure. The dim lights allowed me to see the figure raise its arm into the air, and with a swift movement, fling its arm at my blast. The blue energy flew upward into the power lines on the ceiling, and showered the corridor with sparks as well as increasing the intensity of the previously dim lights. I could now see my opponent, and recognized him instantly. He turned his head toward me and smirked.

“Michael Leiver, SuperSonicMewtwo.” He sneered. “Former top Pokémon trainer and the most destructive force created by Team Rocket. Here now, as part of the Republic Alliance to defeat our forces.”

‘Xavier Lionheart, the Bear. Martial arts master and famous military hero. Known for being a strong leader and exceptional training in hand to hand combat, now fighting to bring pain upon the world.’

“It’s what we do best.” Bear interjected, and giving a shrug. “For now, however, it is my task to stop you in your tracks. Normally, that’d be tough for any man, but with these…” Bear trailed off, and raised his left arm into the air. He was wearing some kind of wristband; it appeared thick and to glow an unusual light of darkness. I noticed there were identical bands around Bear’s other wrist, ankles, and neck.

“My psychic powers will have no harmful effect on you.” I finished, using my vocal chords instead of the booming telepathy I was more accustomed to. “It is no matter, however…” I placed my left foot before me, curled my right hand into a fist and pulled it back, and faced my flat palm toward Bear. “I will still defeat you.”

“We’ll see about that.” Bear replied, taking up his own fighting stance, both fists forward as though he was ready to box. We stood, silent, simply waiting for that feeling, that itch that let us both know it was time to act.

It came in the form of a droplet falling from the ceiling, and making its bloop sound as it broke apart on the floor below. Bear and I flew at each other.

One of the first things I do in battle is scope out an enemy’s strength. Seeing the strength allows one to see the weakness, and formulate a plan for defeat. I already had a clue, but I had still had to test my theory. My fist quickly began glowing a brilliant blue, and I threw my fist forward. Bear raised his arms in front of his face in a cross formation, and his wrists came into contact with my punch. I could see what happened in slow motion: my fist came forward, and hit upon Bear’s wristbands. The darkness from them extended outward like a shield, and bounced the energy of my punch right back at me. And I was thrown back.

I had a feeling something like this would happen, and so I was prepared. I flipped backwards through the air within the closed space, springed off my hands and landed on my feet, caressing my hurting fist slightly. Bear smirked and crossed his arms.

“You don’t learn quickly. Or do you always try the same thing twice?” Bear arched and eyebrow.

“Third time’s the charm, they say.” I took back my fighter’s stance.

“There isn’t going to be a third time for you!” Bear rushed at me again. I too, leaped forward. This time, however, Bear threw a punch. It was slow, something I could dodge, which meant if I did] miss this attack, Bear would have something waiting for me. I’d have to risk it. I was fighting Bear now so I could get my friend back.

No one was going to stop me.

I watched and turned sideways as Bear’s right fist came forward. As I flipped in midair, I saw Bear’s left knee begin to rise. I grabbed the knee with my hands and propelled myself upward, flipping backwards in midair and kicking into Bear’s chin with my right foot. I thought I had made a solid attack, but partway into my backwards flip, I felt a hand grab onto my left foot.

“I don’t go down that easy!” Using centripetal force against me, Bear spun around three times and threw me forward. The ceiling was not that high, and Bear was fairly tall… My left shoulder collided with one of the overhead lights, and sparks flew as my body pulled it down with me and I hit the ground.

I winced, reached behind myself, and pulled the sharp metal edge out of my flesh and dropping the light to the ground. Taking a bit of time to wipe my blood soaked hand onto my pants, I stood up and dusted myself off. I turned toward Bear.

Or not…

“Crap…” I knew what was coming. I suddenly felt a fury of kicks come from nowhere: one in the ribcage, one on each shin, one in my back, and one along the side of my jaw. I collided flat against the wall, and slipped downward, falling on top of the light fixture, and getting it caught in my cloak. Bear phased into view in front of me.

“I suppose this is the end.” He shrugged. “Nice knowing ya, SSM. I appreciate all you’ve done, but now your place on this planet has been eliminated.” With that, Bear reached forward with his right hand, grabbed my neck, and hoisted me into the air.

“No…” I coughed out, only to feel the grip on my throat grow tighter.

I would NOT end like this. I already told myself, NO ONE was going to stop me. I had to think fast. I tried prying Bear’s hands off my neck. It was no use; I was too weakened and his arms were too strong. But my slight shifting in weight let me notice something… which would be my key to victory.

The light still hanging from my cloak.

With as swift of a movement as I could, I reached down to the light, ripped it from my clothing, and swung it toward Bear’s sickly-evil grin. As quick as I thought I was, Bear still noticed, and moved his head back a bit to dodge. But I was not aiming for his head, I was aiming for the band around his neck. The light smacked into the dark band with a high pitched ‘ding’ that echoed throughout the corridor, and there was a small burst of energy. Bear was thrown one way, and I was thrown another. I gasped as my air supply was restored, and I breathed heavily. I looked up to Bear, who was sitting on the wet ground, confused. He looked up at me, appearing as lost as Furret in a sporting goods store.

“What… where…. Aw man WHAT did I EAT, dang… WOAH!” Bear suddenly stood up. I watched intently… The bands around his wrists and ankles were glowing with a deeper darkness than before. I had rid him of the one around his neck, but these bands still needed to be taken care of. They’d be no problem now. Looking mightily surprised, Bear found himself running beyond his control toward me, his hands raised forward as though it were some final act of desperation. I stood up, focused my power, and began to twirl in place, faster and faster. When Bear was close, I swung out my arms and legs, and used the speed of my body to crush the remaining bands into shards. Bear tripped to the ground. I slowed and kneeled, breathing hard.

“…SSM? What’s going on?”

“You had gone to train at Mr. Silver, correct? While you were there, you were ambushed and kidnapped by the rebels.” I took a large breath and continued. “At some point, they forced those bands onto you. They worked as mind and body control devices, as well a counteraction to use of my powers.”

“But, you just did some wacky spinning… thing.”

“I could speed up however I wanted, but when I hit those bands off of you, that was purely physical. I don’t have your build, but I’m not about to let some big oaf get in the way of me saving my friend.” Bear rolled his eyes.

“Well let’s see now…we’re deep within the rebel stronghold, with a tired psychic and a confused but ready-to-put-the-beat-down Marine. What do you say we do?” He smirked. I turned away, and raised my arms, palms flat, into the air. Concentrating a bit, I felt the presence of all the life energy of people and Pokémon from around the base, and pulled little bits of energy from each. The wound in my shoulder sealed up, and the aches and pains in my body disappeared. With my Recover complete, I turned back to Bear.

‘What do you think we do? We lead an all out assault and leave destruction in our wake.’ I smiled as well.

“Sounds like a plan, man.” We slapped hands, and then turned toward one end of the corridor, where a bit of light shown through, and walked over to that end. There was a thin webbed vent in front of us, and a main control center below. I looked at Bear, and he looked at me. We raised our legs together, kicked down the vent, and jumped through.

[Ace64]

My only character:

Name: Birth Name- Anthony Kirlack. Alias- Ricardo the Merchant.
Race: Human
Gender: Male
Age: 48
Appearance: About 5'7'',medium size not too tall, not too large. His eyes are a greyish-brown, with a head of salt-and-pepper hair cut short. His right eye is a milky white, the result of a birth defect, but he prefers not to cover it up, though he does own an eye patch. He isn't particularly athletic, but neither is he a weakling at all. Besides his eye, he appears to be perfectly average, nothing outstanding at all. He appears to be wealthy, but judging by his clothes...his preferred method of travel...can one be sure?
Clothing and Gear: Ricardo wears a grey trenchcoat and a dapper black hat, which just covers his eyes. A number of rings cover his fingers, with jewels of differing worth perched atop them. His merchandise is kept in a large, covered wagon, driven by two large black stallions, named Thunder and Lightning. He carries a variety of products, just about anything one might find useful, from weapons to knick-knacks to appliances to clothing. He seems to have something for everyone. In addition, he carries some merchandise on his person, hidden in his coat.
Personality: Ricardo is a charming and charismatic character- every word that comes out of his mouth seems to have been planned, designed to create a certain effect on the subject. He's very observant, gauging the effect his speech has on another and tailoring his conversation to whatever end. Some say that it is cunning to be able to sell heat in the south and ice in the north, but one wouldn't dream of calling Ricardo a con man. Heavens, no! He's a salesman after all, only looking out for your best interest. Yet, Ricardo has few close friends despite these qualities. The merchant is a only a facade- no one has ever glimpsed Ricardo's true mind- though there have been suspicions. Ricardo despises generosity of any sort, and believes selfishness is a valuable characteristic, one which he honours to no degree. Yet, no one would accuse him of being selfish. How curious. He has the peculiar honour of being one of the few merchants with a caravan who has never once been attacked by thugs or raiders. In fact, he doesn't even employ a guard.
History: Anthony was the son of a poor, widowed . He grew up poor, but he never once despised his station, or his lot in life. He simply set out to make the most of himself with the skills he was given- quick wits and a silver tongue. He began as a cashier in a local drug store- through a combination of opportunistic luck, networking and calculation, he soon took over the store with the previous owner's 'untimely' death. From there, he introduced several new drugs into the market, and the rest is history. He made sure his father was taken care of, paying off their debts and securing a life for his father, not out of kindness but out of familial duty. Aside from his father, Ricardo has no other relatives. Eventually, he took to the road, travelling far and wide to peddle his goods. He's recognized, but never expected- his path is never the same twice.
Talents: Charisma and speech skills, along with uncommon wealth and the knowledge needed to use it correctly.
Other:

1. Blind in his right eye, which affects his depth perception. However, he's learned to compensate for this handicap, since he's lived with it all his life.
2. Treasures selfishness over generosity- apt to favour those who share this view over those who do not.
3. His horses, Thunder and Lightning- they don't seem to struggle at all at carrying the wagon, no matter how much merchandise he loads up. When asked were he acquired the horses, he answers only with an enigmatic smile.


*Borrowed* from Sheila Rae
Name: Nikita Sangmira
Race: Half-elf (Since half-elves appear in many different series and have varying attributes, I suppose the closest would be the Tales of Symphonia interpretation. Half-elves physically look just like humans, but can be characterized by longer life spans and often magic abilities. Most half-elves can also tell the difference between humans, elves, and half-elves based on instinct, but they are not always correct. The ratio of human years to half-elf years is about 3:1, although half-elves show much less age than their human counterparts.)
Gender: female
Age: 126 (appears 35)
Appearance: Nikita is rather tall, standing at approximately 5'9". She has thick, muted yellow hair that flows to about halfway down her back with a slight wave. Her green-grey eyes appear soft from weathering, and they always cast a gentle look. Wisdom and can be seen in her face, and though it does not appear old, it does indeed look tired. Her ears are large and slightly more pointed than a typical human's, poking out of her hair. Her skin is light and appears without texture, giving the customary look of a porcelain doll. Her hands are small and fleshy, and her nails and fingertips especially appear rounded and even borderline boneless.
Clothing and Gear: Nikita wears a silk dress of a colour that closely resembles that of her eyes. It is long-sleeved and has grey lace as cuffs. The collar is bordered with a strip of silver binding and a black thread slip-stitched through it. The skirt part of the dress is not pleated, but it is tucked with lots of excess fabric so that when she is seated, it drapes over the sides of the chair like a curtain. The skirt also has a tabard that nearly goes to the end of the dress; it has the same border as the collar and the other fabric is a lighter green silk that the body of the dress. She wears soft, faux-leather boots of a chestnut shade and with low soles. She has a small, golden band on her forehead, no more than 3cm in width. A random pattern that appears to be an angelic language is embossed on it. Where it comes to the middle of her forehead, there is a small dip and a tiny emerald hangs from it. She wears large, crescent moon earrings made out of translucent amethyst. She often carries around many books, but does not keep them in a bag or any such thing.

Personality: Nikita has grown accustomed life calm and isolated. She is passively antisocial, preferring to read or think to herself than to start a conversation. She tends to frequent cafés, enjoying the atmosphere and warmth. She is sometimes mistaken for a misanthrope with her aloof personality. The fact that she is eccentric in both appearance and material only adds to this. Although she does not often encounter people in chat, she is still kind, although she rarely pities people, and never herself. Being generally unreactive to the world outside of her mind, she does not express much emotion, save for an unrelenting, gentle smile. She is not completely unwilling to help people in need, but she can be wary, as ungrateful people are her pet peeve, and people who can't help themselves in certain matters upset her. It is like she has lived for so long that her heart's quota of compassion has been poured out, and now compassion can only come from her mind, meaning that it must be rational. Although she is eloquent, she often tends to speak in quotes.

History: Nikita grew up in a predominantly half-elf village with a human father and elven mother. Her very early years were peaceful and sheltered, and her father's occupation as weapons smith brought in a decent amount of money. When he father died of natural causes, it affected her mother deeply, and she was very distraught. Eventually, she ran away to live with her mother's cousin, Lillie. One day, her peaceful life was disrupted when Lillie was imprisoned unjustly for family crimes. At that time, she joined a band of traveling mages who, for a living, rid villages of demons and monsters. Nikita soon grew talented in the elemental arts, specializing in water spells. She enjoyed her days with the band, but in an unfortunate battle, she fell into a coma and forgot many of her skills and experiences. She retired from the band and immersed herself in books and fantasy, estranging herself from people.

Talents: Nikita can no longer use any type of magic effectively. Nonetheless, she has a knack for memorization and is very observant.
Other: Her voice, though having inflection, remains at a soft level, and has very little dynamics, and hence is very serene.
RPG Title: n/a
Elements:
1. She is hydrophobic. Although she was not born with the fear, it is almost so irrational at this point in her life that it does not seem like a learned tendency.
2. She is sterile.
3. She has a penchant for collecting certain objects, though her criterion for the items seems inconsistent, and there appears to be no pattern in her collection.

The Merchant

Mr. Kirlack,

It is not often that stories and rumors of a single individual in another country reach His Majesty's ears. It is even rarer to receive a message from the King, addressed specifically to a single man. Congratulate yourself- your legacy of greed and miserliness has attracted the attention of the Province of Lemere.

His Majesty is fond of games, riddles, and puzzles of all kinds. Lately, however, he has began to grow weary of the usual fare, and turns His gaze outward in search of new sport. His Majesty believes adding a more…human element to his games will only increase the enjoyment. The Royal Seekers were commissioned far and wide in search of one who could help in this task. In their travels, your name came up. You have become synonymous with the urban legend of the traveling salesman, one who wanders the land making contacts and gathering gold.

Intrigued, the Seekers dug deeper, and discovered that your father was living a sedentary life among the commoners, in the village of Oaktree. This lead to an interesting question that His Majesty wishes to pose: between heartblood and lifeblood, what will a man choose? What will you choose?

In order to add the “human” element His Majesty so dearly desires, the Seekers were ordered to make the question a bit more personal. So personal, in fact, that your father has been spirited away from his home to the Province of Lemere. In order to secure his return, His Majesty asks for no less than 95% of the fortune you’ve amassed.

We await your reply in the throne room of His Majesty, exactly one month from today. Deception of any sort will be discovered by the Royal Seekers, and will not be tolerated. Good day to you.

High Secretary of the Throne of Lemere,
Henry Jacubois

Written below that was his father’s signature, scrawled in a shaky scribble, the result of his arthritis-ridden hand. As proof of their claim.

This is the letter he received upon the third day of his stay in town. Ricardo read the letter slowly, then re-read again, and again. He was a methodical thinker, and with each repetition, the beginnings of a plan began to sprout. After the fifth time, he folded the letter neatly and placed in his coat pocket, then checked out of the hotel that afternoon.

His first stop was the bank, where he withdrew a large amount of his gold. The teller handed him his money with a look of mingled awe and suspicion in his eyes. It was a look Ricardo had grown used to. Awe- disbelief that such money could be gained. Suspicion - belief that so much money can lead to nothing beneficial.

In his current predicament, Ricardo couldn’t help but smile as he left the bank. “Maybe this time it’s justified.”

Such wealth required protection. Luckily, protection could always be brought, no matter where you go. The quality of said protection varied from place to place, but it was always found in the same place: the tavern.

The pub was filled with the usual collection of thugs and toughs, brutes and fools. A white haze of smoke drifted over the occupants- the scent of nicotine was as pervading and natural as oxygen. Gales of raucous laughter rang out at the bar, where a sizeable group of dwarves were playing a game of cards.

As Ricardo entered the tavern, an elf sitting at a nearby table made some remark to his companions, causing the group to erupt in laughter. One of the dwarves sitting at the bar glanced at the group of elves, his face twisted into a grimace. “Shut yer gobs, tha’ whole lotta ya! Don’t ye got trees ta’ tend ta’ or sommat?”

“I believe I like dwarves better below ground. Preferably in unmarked graves,” the elf replied scornfully, eliciting another burst of laughter from his friends . The dwarf’s expression slackened in shock, then hardened. As one, the group playing cards stood up. The surrounding patrons hushed, suddenly sensing the beginning of a fight.

“It’d be best ta’ leave tha’ digging to tha’ dwarves,” said a stocky dwarf with a long black beard. He fingered his beard speculatively, as if puzzling over a difficult problem. The glint of anger in his eyes could not be ignored, however. “An’ if it’s a grave ye be wantin,’ I’ll be happy ta’ provide it.”

Now the elves stood. The joking elf had turned solemn, his eyes like deep pools of dark water. In a soft voice, he muttered, “Is that a fact…”

“N-now hold on just a moment!” the bartender bellowed, who had been following the exchange with a shocked look on his face. “Take this kind of thing outside! It’s bad for business!”

The two groups stared at each other for a long beat in silence. Then, the elf shrugged, turning to the group behind him. “This place bores me, and there are better things to do. Let’s go.” As the elves filed out of the tavern, the bartender heaved a sigh of relief. Feeling a bit excited, Ricardo hastily exited after the elves. A tall, oddly-dressed female lagged behind the group.

“Excuse me,” Ricardo said gently, getting the woman’s attention. “I couldn’t help but notice the commotion inside…might you be mercenaries?”

The woman stared at him for a long moment, seeming to size him up with only her eyes before answering. “That we may be, depending upon the task.”

Smiling courteously, Ricardo swept the hat off his hand with a flourish and bowed- not low enough as to appear cunning, yet just enough to escape discourtesy. “My name is Ricardo- a merchant of some renown. I ask only because I am interested in a small protection job.”

“Protecting what exactly?” The same small smile remained on the girl’s face, but Ricardo could see her eyes harden a bit. If he answered with ‘gold,’ then all would be lost. In her eyes, he was a merchant, and anything he might need would be easily attainable to him. On the spot, he created a story, using a mix of fact and fiction.

“Myself, of course. I’m heading off to visit my father, who works in the palace of the King of Lemere. I’ve recently received a letter from him and decided I would head off. However, the roads are dangerous... one can never be too careful in times like these, eh?”

“I suppose not,” the woman replied. Though her tone barely fluctuated, Ricardo could sense her relax. He had answered correctly.

“Then you will take the job?”

“I’ll talk about this with the clan leader,” the woman replied, pointing towards one of the elves at the front of the group. “I’m sure he will agree.”

“Excellent,” Ricardo said with a smile. “I’d prefer to leave as soon as possible.. You can find me at the Inn.”

The woman, who was called Nikita, agreed to present his offer to the clan and promised to get back to him. With a light heart, Ricardo started off towards the Inn.

Lifeblood- the bond between kin, blood.

Heartblood- the bond between fellow man, gold.

Ricardo intended to have both. If he could not swindle a King, what sort of merchant was he?

[Sheila Rae]

Lame excuse: I was originally planning something for my other character, but no other player characters, even modified, could fit either of the two characters she interacts with for the plot string that I had developed for this prompt. So, this was the last plot string I was planning on using for my new character, but it goes with the prompt...I think. I wrote this all tonight, too, so proofreading is lame. XD

Name: Nikita Sangmira
Race: Half-elf (Since half-elves appear in many different series and have varying attributes, I suppose the closest would be the Tales of Symphonia interpretation. Half-elves physically look just like humans, but can be characterized by longer life spans and often magic abilities. Most half-elves can also tell the difference between humans, elves, and half-elves based on instinct, but they are not always correct. The ratio of human years to half-elf years is about 3:1, although half-elves show much less age than their human counterparts.)
Gender: female
Age: 126 (appears 35)
Appearance: Nikita is rather tall, standing at approximately 5'9". She has thick, muted yellow hair that flows to about halfway down her back with a slight wave. Her green-grey eyes appear soft from weathering, and they always cast a gentle look. Wisdom and can be seen in her face, and though it does not appear old, it does indeed look tired. Her ears are large and slightly more pointed than a typical human's, poking out of her hair. Her skin is light and appears without texture, giving the customary look of a porcelain doll. Her hands are small and fleshy, and her nails and fingertips especially appear rounded and even borderline boneless.
Clothing and Gear: Nikita wears a silk dress of a colour that closely resembles that of her eyes. It is long-sleeved and has grey lace as cuffs. The collar is bordered with a strip of silver binding and a black thread slip-stitched through it. The skirt part of the dress is not pleated, but it is tucked with lots of excess fabric so that when she is seated, it drapes over the sides of the chair like a curtain. The skirt also has a tabard that nearly goes to the end of the dress; it has the same border as the collar and the other fabric is a lighter green silk that the body of the dress. She wears soft, faux-leather boots of a chestnut shade and with low soles. She has a small, golden band on her forehead, no more than 3cm in width. A random pattern that appears to be an angelic language is embossed on it. Where it comes to the middle of her forehead, there is a small dip and a tiny emerald hangs from it. She wears large, crescent moon earrings made out of translucent amethyst. She often carries around many books, but does not keep them in a bag or any such thing.

Personality: Nikita has grown accustomed life calm and isolated. She is passively antisocial, preferring to read or think to herself than to start a conversation. She tends to frequent cafés, enjoying the atmosphere and warmth. She is sometimes mistaken for a misanthrope with her aloof personality. The fact that she is eccentric in both appearance and material only adds to this. Although she does not often encounter people in chat, she is still kind, although she rarely pities people, and never herself. Being generally unreactive to the world outside of her mind, she does not express much emotion, save for an unrelenting, gentle smile. She is not completely unwilling to help people in need, but she can be wary, as ungrateful people are her pet peeve, and people who can't help themselves in certain matters upset her. It is like she has lived for so long that her heart's quota of compassion has been poured out, and now compassion can only come from her mind, meaning that it must be rational. Although she is eloquent, she often tends to speak in quotes.

History: Nikita grew up in a predominantly half-elf village with a human father and elven mother. Her very early years were peaceful and sheltered, and her father's occupation as weapons smith brought in a decent amount of money. When he father died of natural causes, it affected her mother deeply, and she was very distraught. Eventually, she ran away to live with her mother's cousin, Lillie. One day, her peaceful life was disrupted when Lillie was imprisoned unjustly for family crimes. At that time, she joined a band of traveling mages who, for a living, rid villages of demons and monsters. Nikita soon grew talented in the elemental arts, specializing in water spells. She enjoyed her days with the band, but in an unfortunate battle, she fell into a coma and forgot many of her skills and experiences. She retired from the band and immersed herself in books and fantasy, estranging herself from people.

Talents: Nikita can no longer use any type of magic effectively. Nonetheless, she has a knack for memorization and is very observant.
Other: Her voice, though having inflection, remains at a soft level, and has very little dynamics, and hence is very serene.
RPG Title: n/a
Elements:
1. She is hydrophobic. Although she was not born with the fear, it is almost so irrational at this point in her life that it does not seem like a learned tendency.
2. She is sterile.
3. She has a penchant for collecting certain objects, though her criterion for the items seems inconsistent, and there appears to be no pattern in her collection.

~.Nikita Sangmira.~ Hearts thrive just as much on blood of hate as they do on love...
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= ASILYNNE's Aeryn McFallon [see first reply for character profile] =
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The Second Stage: Let the Rain Fall Down
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The way that I live does not make me sad. I'd rather think of it as that I have concern for others than that I am afraid, but either way, I don't want to begin a new stage in my life. Although the pain to me may be inconsequential, too many have suffered because I am slow to learn. I realize now that all the books I read and all the studying I do would not have taught me then, for in my age, I have come to recognize the difference between knowledge and wisdom. Still, if I do not interact with other people, how can I pass on the wisdom I have acquired through the tribulations of my life? I believe that perhaps wisdom indeed is something that cannot be taught by another.

I never really had a sense of premonition, so perhaps that was my tragic downfall. In my state of scholarship, I had not expected anyone to ever care about a tired-out soul like mine. Today, I learn to welcome some surprises into my life.

There was a sort of celebration in the cosmic rooms of Seekers, so I am forced to situate myself near the front. Each time a customer arrives, a gust of wind swoops in and pages of the unread books on the table in front of my flutter like tired wings. In my hands, the book Never Let Me Go remains firm, as I rather despise losing my place. The air near the front of the café seems to have more molecular debris hovering near the ceiling. The young girls, with their bubbly smiles and exclamations of "May I take your order?" appear to contribute to this. It does not much matter to me, as it is easy to lose oneself between the lines of a book.

A girl who seems very young indeed, still a child and full of energy, skips up to a small silver machine attached to wall near the counter for ordering. Her brunette pigtails, tied in pink ribbons, fly behind her like May Day streamers, and excess locks of hair covers the side of her head and face. She places her stubby fingers on a round button, and from a spicket, water trickles out. I drop my book and jump to feet, lunging out my hand toward her.

"STOP! Don't touch that water!" I cry. In a moment of suspended time, she withdraws her puckered lips and turns to gaze at me with eyes too wide, as I, an unsightly figure in this incident, reach out my hand in a futile endeavour to stop her.

She cocks her head, baffled. "What's wrong with it?" she asks.

"Nothing…I'm sorry. You may drink the water." I sigh. My first instinct is still protection against water, no matter the quantity. I turn shamefully and retake my seat, reminding myself not to intervene in the affairs of others. It is doubtful that the water produced by that machine could have hurt that small girl.

After a few minutes, she with the pigtails approaches me. She says to me bashfully, "Hi. I just wanted to thank you for telling me not to drink the water. I decided to get a smoothie instead, and it's a lot better. So thanks."

For a moment, I can only blink. "Though it was unintentional, I am pleased that I could help," I reply.

To my surprise, she does not walk away. "Your earrings are pretty. Is there any meaning behind them?"

I ponder this very unorthodox question, then respond, "I'm sorry. I don't think there is." Perplexed, I pause for a time, and then say, "I do not mean to be rude, so please know that I ask this only in curiosity. Why are you speaking with me?"

Without hesitation, she answers, "I just thought you seem like an interesting person, a person who has a history of an eventful life."

"I do have a history, but I do not suspect it would interest anyone," I say with a small, benign smile.

She does not reply, but I maintain eye contact with her. They are a deep silver hue, not of metallic quality, but rather of the afternoon sky on a cloudy winter's day. The natural way that she blinks is deliberate and slow. At last, she says, "Have you ever lost someone close to you?" The change in her tone is noticeable instantaneously, for it was once bouncy, but now seems melancholy. She quickly and earnestly clarifies, "I don't mean they died. I mean you lost track of their whereabouts. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

I look up at the invisible debris in the air, and I can feel nostalgia begin to float in my eyes pensively. "Yes. There was one time. It was long ago."

She sits down across the table from me, her face bright with eagerness. "Will you tell me about it?"



"At the time, I was living in a city called Malachi. Are you familiar with it?"

She replies, "I have heard of it."

I continue, "The population there was largely elves and half-elves with a very small human minority. In that town, I worked as an apothecary's assistant. My time there was not lonesome, but my working quarters were very dank, and I felt alienated from the life of the city. Many of my spare hours were spent wandering in the Imyr Forest on the outskirts of the town. I am now thankful for that time, as I found many treasures unintentionally, though one was worth so much more than all the others.

"Her name was Aeryn McFallon. At that time in my life, I was easily swayed by the majority. Humans were widely ostracized in Malachi, especially ones with elemental abilities, as Aeryn had. Therefore, I tried to evade her attempts at befriending me. She often followed me into the village, as though she thought the pretense that we were friends was not false. Because of her, I lost my apprenticeship with the apothecary, but I know that none of that matters now.

"She would sing, not like a bird or an angel, but it felt to me as if the air surrounding mother earth would resonate with purity. Through song and through the wrath of the sky, she showed her a new way to look at the world. As I became integrated into her sanctuary, I forgot the world that Malachi was in. I remember the first time we danced in a thunderstorm. It would've been odd under traditional circumstances, but Aeryn showed me that it was okay. She didn't know that I was crying because the raindrops were pouring down our faces. I know that if she had realized I was crying, she would've, too, because we were both so happy."

My reminiscence drifts into a silent state, as my open eyes could only see the field where lightning struck the brightest—our dance floor. The little girl now says, "You said it was a long time ago. How old were you?"

I think about it, putting my life in order to so that I can properly determine my age. "I must've been about sixty."

"Sixty? But you don't look any—"

I state calmly, "I am a half-elf." The girl nods in agreement without any more words.

"I did not go to Malachi very often any more, only to occasionally buy a loaf of bread or something of the like. I could say I lived in Imyr, but not primitively. She would say, 'I have a song for you, Nikita!' and then sing an aria for me. I would place a hand on her bare navel to feel the vibrations. Giggling, she would inadvertently fill the air around us with static, an aura of electricity. A thrill would be sent through my skin, and I would laugh, too. We shared all of our secrets, no matter how painful. There was no problem that I was half-elf and she was electro-human. We never spoke that I would outlive her, though, and that it was merely chance that at that time, our outwardly ages coincided.

"Candidly, we were in love, but not in a way that Malachi, or most likely any other village, would understand. It was difficult for me to grasp that people could not understand this most intimate type of friendship.

"There came time, however, that Aeryn often left the Imyr Forest for Minolta, on the other side of the forest, to 'visit' her other friends and her parents, yet she never took me with her. Living in her world of Imyr thunderstorms, it was easy for me to forget that she had a life outside of my existence. I loved her so much, so I just wanted to be with her. I don't know why, and I wish I could've changed it, but my loneliness and bitterness turned into anger aimed at her.

"It was law that every person in the Calera region must register upon reaching the age of twenty, so I convinced my dear Aeryn to register in Malachi and Minolta, reasoning that she spent much of her time in the Imyr forest, juxtaposed between the two cities. Although she was reluctant, she still agreed. We were unaware, however, that laws had changed in Malachi. We strolled the streets obvious to the new fact that humans were under curfew and could not be within the limits of Malachi except in the slum on the western side of town.

"Unaware, I went to look at dresses whilst my friend went to complete her registration. She was kidnapped by a band that called themselves the Eternal Knights, committed to the preservation of elf and half-elf supremacy. Rather than lynching her, they decided to put her on a public mock trial. When I learned of this, I was nearly indifferent. Obviously, because of my earlier anger with Aeryn, I had allowed the anti-humanism sentiment of Malachi to infect me. It is probably difficult for someone like you to believe that I thought, 'A human like she deserves whatever she gets.' I would be taking the easy way out to give the excuse that I wasn't myself then.

"Although 'time is of the essence,' I stood by idly, not even waiting. Then came the day when Aeryn was to be hung at the town square. That morning, I panicked, realizing the truth that the day held. Too late, I pleaded with the city officials to let her go free, and exile us both from Malachi if he liked. It was to no avail. That evening, the sky was so dark. As they bound her to the scaffolding, I could tell she was losing her energy to struggle. Knowing Aeryn, she had been struggling in a prison cell for hours on end. I pushed and shoved my way through a crowd that was likely composed of every citizen of Malachi. 'Aeryn!! Aeryn!!' I cried out. I grappled to clamber atop the scaffolding, but the brute force of the Knights held me back. I wanted to weep, but something was stopping me. Not a single tear would fall. As the floor fell, two synchronized, bloodcurdling screams echoed throughout the town and forest. One stopped a voice from singing. The other was trying to say, 'Let me be the one to die by the noose of that rope.' After that, I found the place where they dumped her body. I just held it for hours upon hours. That night, it rained and rained. I only wished that one of the lighting bolts would strike me."

The girl's lip quivers before she bursts, "Why? Why did they do that to her?! She was so nice, and she didn't deserve that! She didn't even do anything!!"

I have to look away from her. "That is the way that people are born. Love and kindness are entities that some never come to know. I am sure that one day, you will encounter someone who will not allow you to have the decency of a person because you have grey eyes. I, too, wish that the world were not this way, but teaching people that we all have the same hearts inside of us is a feat not meant to be taken on. Only to avoid pessimism do I not say it is impossible. Racism is merely something that exists in this imperfect world." I pause to breathe deeply. "Not only did I lose Aeryn when she was kidnapped by the Eternal Knights, I lost her when I let those kind of wretched people compromise my love. It was because of this, though, that she lost her life."

The little girl is no longer looking at me, but rather at her lap. She says, "Your name is Nikita, yes?"

"Yes, Nikita Sangmira. And yours?"

"Carolina Exira. Thank you for telling me your story." She rises and walks out. Her head is still down.

To myself, I whisper, "If God bless my shallow heart, then may Satan damn it forevermore."


Sorry for killing your character! T_T I have a bad tendency to do that. I feel like I was so mean to her...well, Asilynne, if it makes you feel any better, it's okay to kill one of mine now. ^^;
[/badpost]

[Bear]

[size=1]This is the character I will be using:

Name: Qantao
Race: Nexian (humanoid race that inhabits the Nexus)
Gender: Male
Age: 81 Yuris, which calculates to around 650 human years
Appearance: His hair is long and flowing (shoulder-length) and a smooth silver color. He has a thick beard, moustache, and bushy eyebrows of matching color as well. Has shimmering eyes of emerald green. He appears very old and frail, and has alot of wrinkles and scars on his face. He stands around 5'10" tall and weighs around 120 lbs.
Clothing and Gear: He wears long, layered YeoSutZe robes, which are quite roomy. They are dyed the shiny green color of Grin's army, to represent his participation in the God War. His shoes are plain black, designed simply for comfortable movement and clearly not style. The weapon he carries is a huge Staff of Chi, which is bigger than he is and ultra heavy. He is the only one who can wield it, since it is bonded to his Chi. To anyone else it would be too heavy to life. The staff itself is probably close to 7 feet long, with a massive green orb at its head, held in place by talon-looking grips on the staff's body. He always carries a plain brown satchel, the contents of which are unknown.
Personality: He is very subdued, and rarely speaks. He's not unkind, but many people label him as such because he doesn't go out of his way to talk to anyone. He is completely devoted to Geomancy and his Xing Yi martial art, meditating constantly, and therefore has little time to make friends.
History: Qantao has been around since the creation of the Nexus realm. He was one of the five citizens to help forge the Spirit Arrow that shattered Orb's Darkstaff. He witnessed firsthand the Great Shift of Yuri 23, and helped rebuild the kingdoms. He fought on the side of Grin in the God War of Yuri 31. He helped collapse the Vortex and seal the fiend ChiZao in Yuri 55. Since then, he's been a lecturer of math, a historian, and was once offered an Archon position, but turned it down. Now it is Yuri 81, and he is currently a Weaver of the Legendary (highest) classification, a sensei of Xing Yi arts, and Elder of the Geomancers.
Talents: Is very well practiced in Geomancy, and a master of Xing Yi Quan.
Other: None right now
RPG Title: N/A (New character)

1. Physical - Extremely old (he has all the appearances and handicaps of a human 80 year old). This gives him much wisdom and mental power, making him a deadly magic user. His physical strength, however, makes him vulnerable to any sort of physical bombardment. He must rely on his magic to prevent attacks on his body.
2. Mental - Has a phobia of buzzing. Any sound that vibrates like the buzz of a bee freaks him out.
3. Was once a teacher of math. Because of this, all of his spells follow some sort of mathematical pattern or reference. For example: when he casts the spell "Soul Rip", the opponent's body is torn in half vertically. However, the sever is perfectly symmetrical. Perhaps a better example would be that his spells have varied effectiveness on enemies based on their age. For example, enemies with a perfect square (ie 36) or prime number (ie 43) age take more damage than enemies with a non-prime, non-square age (ie 28)


And I will be featuring classy_cat18's Leo in my post!

Name: Leo
Race: Pokemon (Zangoose)
Gender: Male
Age: the Pokemon equivalent of 30 (I don’t know how many human years that would be
Appearance: a Zangoose with a black stripes instead of orange. His right eye is clouded with blindness, impairing his depth perception.
Clothing and Gear: none
Personality: He’s cursed with selective mutism so he's just about silent in public situations and mumbles to himself sometimes when he’s alone. When he’s with a big crowd or even a small crowd of strangers he finds it impossible to speak. He’s wise and tactful, something that comes to good use during Pokemon battles. He’s not quick to anger but he will threaten to scratch you if you anger him. When he’s comfortable he is actually quite the ladies’ man.
History: He’s a wild Pokemon to the end. He got the blind eye from birth but has had plenty of time to adapt to it. Just a life of hunting, sleeping, and other things that wild Pokemon do.
Talents: incredible speed and agility, skilled use of his long claws, excellent hearing and sight (with the eye he has)
Other: has a talent with puzzles, from the Pokemon world (video game, anime, card game, etc.).
RPG Title: none (new character)

1. another species (Pokemon, physical)
2. unsure of this one, but has selective mutism which makes social situations almost impossible for him (mental)
3. minor physical deformity (blindness in right eye, physical)


======================================
BEGIN POST
======================================

"That concludes class for today. Be sure to read 'The Watering Pole' and 'Legend of ChiZao' from the Shu Jing by next week. I will be testing you on it, so read them both thoroughly! Dismissed."
The young students all rose, bowed respectfully, and began to exit the room. The old teacher watched them all go by, with a contented smile on his face.
"All have great potential. I will soon have to find Guides for their walking." Qantao said to himself, slowly getting to his feet after the last student was gone. Leaning heavily on his staff, he made his way out of the classroom, through the large oaken doorway, and into the main hall of the House of Chi. As the cavernous entryway lay spread before him, he greeted the Earths Dragon in the center.
"Good day, sir. May your path be balanced." Qantao said with a bow.
"And yours as well, wise creature." The dragon replied.

The light began to get more prominent as the old man came closer to the main arch. He shielded his eyes as he made his way through Hallow Pass, the sun beating down with tremendous force. The temperature was fair, and there wasn't a cloud in the sky. The wilderness was speaking energetically today, which was a good sign. Qantao took in a long, deep breath, and gazed out into the rolling fields.
"The Totems smile upon us. Praise the Gods!" He said aloud, turning to the North. "But now I must return home."
The old man slowly strolled through the pastures, wild sheep grazing peacefully on all sides. Rabbits flitted about through the tall grass, and occasionally a bird or two saliled across view. Before two long, a thick batch of trees stood before Qantao. He walked toward them, and just as he was about to cross into the forest, he vanished....

...Qantao appeared amidst a great hall, a huge pattern of the 8 trigrams in a circle decorated the floor. All was well, except for a group of Geomancers, huddled around the bulletin board. They were all talking amongst themselves, but it appeared to be swift and worried. Qantao quickly walked over to find out what was going on. They suddenly all turned to look at him.

Silence.

"What is going on here? Why the nervous looks?" He asked the group, puzzled. The Geomancer Guide Bylen stepped forward.
"Brother...we have received a threatening letter. It is from an anonymous sender, but it's addressed mainly to you. I think you should read it." She explained, handing a small parchment to the old man. Qantao opened it, gingerly, so as to not crumble the old paper. The letter was written neatly, and read as follows:

'Qantao and the Geomancers,

You live quietly in your wilderness home, preaching neutrality and worshipping nature. You know not grievance nor pain, experiences all people should share. This day, you shall have both. Qantao's youngest son and your brother, Tebesmago, is in my grasp. He is of yet unharmed, but that will change if you do not comply with my demands. They are as follows--I require two Shards of Qi, forged by Qantao himself. Two Tao Te Ching scriptures, fully intact. One Helmet of Balance, and the redsoil dye of the Keeper. I want Qantao himself to meet me tomorrow at the Tree of Reflections at Zero Moon, alone, and with the items specified. If he does not come alone or at all, Tebesmago will die, and his body will hang from the gates of Kugnae. Hear this Qantao, for your abandoning me has come back to haunt you!
Until we meet,
R'

As Qantao finished reading, darkness fell upon his face. His bushy eyebrows arched downward, as did the corners of his lips. He began to pace around, pondering deeply. Spherical finally spoke, breaking the long silence.
"His demands are taxing, but not impossible. What confuses me is his final message. Qantao, do you know this man from somewhere?"
"I'm not sure, he only put his initial. But I certainly do not recall abaodoning anybody." Qantao replied, sitting down on a stump.
"I guess We have no choice but to do what he says..." Bylen said, walking over and putting her hand on Qantao's shoulder.
"He's family to us too, Qantao. I'm sure he'll be alright. Let us begin preparations in the morning."

With that, the Geomancers dispersed, retiring to their respective abodes. Qantao did the same, but did not sleep a wink the entire night.........

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~TIME LAPSE~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Morning came, and none too soon for Qantao. As the sun began to creep over the horizon, the Geomancers set to work. All day long they labored, taking great care to furnish the best items to fit the mysterious kidnapper's requirements. Qantao's demeanor was brooding, but he did not speak for the better part of the day. He completed his tasks efficiently, resulting in two very finely shaped Qi Shards. Dusk rapidly set in, and the hours wound down. The items had been finished early, and Qantao elected to take them and go for a walk in the village before the meeting time arrived, He strolled around very slowly, observing the busy townspeople. Most were at market buying food for tonight's dinner. Some were by the river washing their clothing. Others were tending their properties and animals. A few tame animals were darting to and fro across the dirt paths of the market. As Qantao was walking, he came upon a large, oddly colored rabbit that would not seem to move out of his way. He tapped his Staff impatiently.
"Come now, shoo!" He waved his hand at the creature. It didn't budge, and continued staring at him.
"Stubborn eh? I'll show you." He muttered, chanting a soft word. A very thin bolt of lightning shot from the Orb on his staff, zapping the rabbit and making it jump several feet into the air.
"ZAAAAAANG!" It cried, suddenly leaping and sinking its teeth into Qantao's knee. Qantao paused for a second, let the event register in his mind, then proceeded to react.
"OOOOOOWCH! You blasted rabbit, that hurt!" He shouted, grabbing the creature by its scruff and holding it up in front of him. As he looked closely, it had strange markings, not characteristic of rabbits. There was a red streak across its chest, zigzagging once in the middle. It was also much larger than a normal rabbit. It also had a scar across its eye, apparently blinding it on that side. But the biggest surprise for Qantao was about to happen.
"Hey, put me down you frumpy old geezer!" The creature snapped, in perfectly spoken English. In surprise, Qantao let go of it. It fell and hit the ground with a thud. Qantao bent down and examined it closely, very puzzled.
"You...spoke?" He asked it.
"Of course I spoke. Don't tell me those big, hairy, wrinkly ears could possibly be deaf!" It replied, obviously irate.
"Alright alright, I'm sorry I zapped you. What in Purgatory are you?" Qantao continued.
"I am what is called a Zangoose. I am not native to your land. I come from a place called Hoenn. You can call me Leo." It explained.
"Zangoose eh. I've never heard of this region called Hoenn, nor a species of animal called a Zangoose. However, your name is easy to remember. What exactly do you do?" Qantao questioned.
"I kill snakes." Leo replied, tartly.
"Snakes?"
"Yes, snakes. Seviper is my mortal enemy."
"Seviper?"
"A particular breed of snake. They are quite vicious, and only inhabit my region."
"I see. Well, Leo, I must be on my way. it was a pleasure to make your acquaintance. If you're staying in this land for a while, take care to stop by the House of Chi, in the wilderness beyond the city gates. We can chat more if you're interested." Qantao said, beginning to walk away.
"I just might take you up on that. Where are you headed?" Leo asked him. Qantao stopped short, remembering the task at hand.
"To save my son..." He replied, cryptically, continuing down the path. Leo stood in the open, watching him fade into the distance. When Qantao was out of sight, the Zangoose quietly retreated into the bushes.

Qantao could sense the hour drawing near. The moon was just about at high point when the great Tree of Reflections came into view. There was no sign of life at or around the Tree tonight. None that Qantao could see, anyway. He stood beneath the ominous branches, gazing upward at the moon. It was time.

Qantao sensed a presence behind him. He spun around to see a shrouded figure, leaning against the tree.
"I see you brought what I asked. Very wise of you." The figure spoke. Qantao was not interested in his banter.
"Where is my son?" He demanded, sternly but calmly.
"Patience. He is unharmed as of now. When I have my items and am safely away, your son will return home." The man replied, stepping forward to face Qantao. Qantao very slowly handed the cloth satchel with the ransom inside to the shrouded man. He took it, looked briefly inside, and looked back up into Qantao's eyes.
"You always loved him more. Why am I forced to go this far for your attention?" He said, sorrow in his voice. At this, a perplexed look came to Qantao's face.
"What do you mean?" He asked.
"Do you not see? I am--"
The man began to speak, but was cut short with a start. In the darkness, a small thing had struck the man in the side of the head, tearing his hood off and sending him staggering. He took a step or two to the left, the moonlight revealing his face. Qantao's eyes widened as he instantly recognized the long scar on the right of his chin.
"Re...Requiem!" He gasped, looking at his feet to see what it was that attacked the man. The light was dim, but he saw a familiar silhouette. About three feet tall, with long, pointy ears...

As the clouds rolled away, the moon illuminated the scene. Leo was standing there, a large piece of fabric protruding from both corners of his mouth. He looked intently at Qantao, as if to speak. However, no words came from his mouth. He simply looked back and forth between the man Requiem and Qantao.

Meanwhile, Requiem had regained his composure, and spoke to Qantao.
"I'm afraid I must go. I will be contacting you soon regarding the whereabouts of your youngest son. But beware: You will soon be faced with a terrible choice. Young or old, one will live and one will die. It is up to you. Farewell, Qantao!"
The figure disappeared in a cloud of smoke. Qantao just stood there, speechless. Finally, Leo walked up next to him and spoke.
"Who was that?" Leo asked. Qantao did not respond for several minutes. Finally, he uttered very softly.
"...My son." Leo looked confused.
"Your son? I thought you were going to save your son?"
"I was."
"But he just attacked you. Doesn't seem like he wanted to be saved."
"That wasn't the son I was looking for."


Cliffhanger intended. I wasn't sure how far Plantae wanted us to pursue this scenario, so I decided to stop here.

EDIT: Corrected a small typo. Actual post was completed around 11 PM last night =P

[Master Rudy]

[color=Orange]Name-Rudy Summers
Race-Vampire (Interpertation is a combination of VHD as well as elements various people in this RPG came up with)
Gender-Male
Age-17
Appearance-Has blue eyes, shoulder length blue hair, pointed ears and pale skin. His fangs are noticeable when he talks or smiles. Stands at 5'10"
Clothing and Gear-In a single word the clothing is dark. Wears a black shirt, trench coat and pants. The only thing not black are his hiking boots which are brown instead. As far as equipment goes he carries a katana on his back as well as a dagger at his side.
Personality-Despite his race he's not evil at heart. He looks out for those in need and will do everything in his power to protect those that need help. Usually will limit his interactions with non-vampires that he doesn't know since they usually jump the gun and see him as a threat. While events in his past sometimes get him down he always tries to look towards the future with hope. If forced to fight vampire hunters he'll do all he can to hold back and end the battle without anyone getting hurt.
History-Born to a pure blooded vampire and a turned human Rudy's past has had nothing but darkness. Both sides of his family came from long lines of vampire hunters but both sides eventually fell in battle only to be turned. His father was born a vampire while his mother was recently turned. Despite being vampires the Summers family had no desire to kill humans and still felt it was their duty to hunt down the vampires and demons that would destroy them. Shortly after his birth his mother was killed by vampire hunters so from a young age he was a drifter with his father as the two of them fought for survival in a world that hated them. When he was 13 he had snapped and killed a large group of humans when he thought his father had died at the hands of hunters. Since that incident he's carried the guilt of murdering innocents with him. When he was 15 his father had fallen in battle against vampires that despised the Summers name. Before his death however Rudy had learned that he had an older dampiel sister and thus made it his mission to track down his only surviving family. Two years later on the eve of the Blood Moon things came crashing down in the span of one night. He had found his sister Gyvien and met his future wife Myra Link. During this time he became tied up in a battle with an ancient vampire named Lantis. Over the course of many battles during this period it became clear that Lantis was a source of pain and suffering for almost everyone in Rudy's group. By the time the night was over Lantis was beaten but not without a high cost. Rudy was forced to become a blood drinking vampire. Since then he takes all the steps he can to feed without killing humans.
Talents-Enhanced speed and strength are the main ones. Being a vampire Rudy can fly, see in even the darkest conditions and heal most injuries in a matter of seconds. He's recently developed psychic powers that allow him to communicate without speaking, read minds and in extreme near death cases be able to speak with the dead. Also has an ability where in extreme cases of rage or bloodlust his powers are increased beyond their normal limits. Humans that have witnessed this have called him a "Blue Devil"
Other-Is left handed with his weapons and can also duel wield weapons pretty well (I actually had something useful for other?! )
RPG Title-Between Dawn of the Blood Moon and Those Who Dream at Sunrise

Also starring:
Name: Beelzedon
Race: Fiend, a lower form of demon. These normally resemble another type of creature, but with more demonic features (in Beelzedon’s case, a human).
Gender: Male
Age: 18
Appearance: He stands at 5’45’’ with a slender build and a slightly pale complexion. His hair is mess, a pale indigo and barely reaches past his chin. His eyes are red and cat-like and his hands resemble claws.
Clothing and Gear: Normally wearing black, he wears a black coat with gray trim which is normally left open, black pants held up by a dark brown belt and black boots. His hands are covered with purple gloves and he wears a black top hat with a large pale yellow feather in it.
Personality: He’s a bit of a smart ass, but then again, he has a right to. He’s resourceful, cunning and can easily think on his feet. He’s a bit selfish, but overall is a nice guy.
History: Rumored to be Beelzebub’s little bro (a fact that’s probably false since Beelzebub’s an arch demon and he’s just a fiend), Beelzedon got about as much respect as any other fiend in hell, in other words, none. Getting bored with hell Beelzedon decided to have a bit of fun in the human world. He enjoyed it so much that he decided to stay there. Because he’s a demon (a lesser demon, but a demon none the less), he’s regarded as vermin by the church and with suspicion by everyone else. Still, Beelzedon likes to annoy the church and the odd person here and there.
Talents: While he has no supernatural powers, being the lowest kind of demon and all, He’s still faster then a human (and those claws o his hurt). He can also call forth black and red demonic wings from his back, allowing him to fly.
Other: He’s pretty much Gear Kaiser’s nemesis.

Rudy Summers
You see me now a veteran of a thousand psychic wars
-------
Tonight had started out poorly as a night of hunting the vampires that would rather destroy humanity. Instead of being the hunter I was currently the hunted. Most of the hunters in Wood Water City had heard of me. Rudy Summers, the vampire that made enemies of both sides by hunting both his own kind and by feeding on those he protected. Of course they also knew that I was by no means a killer and that with the amount of blood that my victims lost that they wouldn't be in any danger of dying. I use to just come and go but ever since the night of the Blood Moon I was a permanent figure in this city. Over the past few months I had made quite a name for myself. Since my arrival in town fatal vampire attacks had dropped and while I didn't know how word got out some people knew I had a hand in the downfall of Lantis. Because of that some of the hunters in Wood Water had recently started to turn a blind eye if they saw me. Granted it didn't mean I was free to walk around town at will since I was still a vampire but it offered a little more peace of mind. The problem was that peace sometimes made me drop my guard a little too much.

Damn.....I should have been more careful I thought to myself as a group of three young vampire hunters cornered me down a street that turned into a dead end. I had started to say something in an attempt to see if we could talk this over in a calm manner but I had been cut off by a woman that was obviously the leader of the group. "Save it vampire!" she shouted as she drew her sword. The other two hunters who were both male quickly followed her lead. "I don't care if you do kill your own kind. Your still a bloodsucker and your still the enemy. That means you've gotta die!" While they were armed and ready to go I hadn't drawn any weapons yet. In fact I was still a bit dumbstruck. "Wow......" I begun to say as I took up a battle stance. "It's been a long time since I've run into someone with such a narrow view of the world. Granted I understand why you think that way but usually your friends will at least hear me out." Normally I didn't get mad too easily but this was crazy. Making a motion for them to come at me I said "Well if your all so eager to lose this battle then come on. Just keep in mind that each moment the four of us waste here could be a moment used to possibly save an innocent person's life."

It didn't take the hunter's long to attack once I told them to. The men came first as the woman hung back. As the first took a very sloppy swing at my head I had to try not to laugh as I ducked the blow. A group like this would be nothing more than a very easy meal to any other vampire. With very little effort I hit him in the back of the head and knocked him out. As the second hunter drew near I pulled out my katana to block an attack coming at me fast. Once again with no effort I pushed him away. As he stumbled back a step I spun around and kicked him right in the face. I regreted the fact that I broke his nose when I heard it snap. However as he fell out cold I knew that later he'd be more thankful that it was just his nose rather than his life. With those two down I turned my attention to the woman and was suprised to see her floating several feet off the ground. It didn't take long to see how it was possible. A man with red and black wings was holding her up in the air by the back of her shirt. As instinct kicked in I quickly grabbed my dagger. Just before I threw it however he shouted at me. "Hold off there! This woman is nothing more than a decoy!" I didn't know what this demon was talking about but I decided to hold off for a moment. Looking back down at her he said "Now if you don't want his fangs meeting your neck you might want to think about telling him what your doing." With a laugh she remained defiant. "Sucked dry by the likes of him. That vampire is Rudy Summers. If he did bite me I'd lose maybe one or two pints at the most. He doesn't scare me one bit!" The demon seemed to be getting a bit annoyed but he didn't let her see it. "Oh I'm so sorry. In that case I suppose you wouldn't mind going for a ride then? Just don't let the fall scare you sweetheart. It's the sudden stop at the end I'd be more worried about." As he suddenly started to fly upwards she cracked. "OK! I'LL TALK! Just don't kill me please!"

While I still wasn't 100% trusting I had to give this guy credit. He knew how to get the job done, As he set her down he too landed and soon after the wings were gone. Taking a deep breath the woman started to explain. "The other two are innocent rookie hunters. I dragged them into this because it was my job to distract you as long as possible. I was hired by another vampire to tie you up. He promised to give me eternal life." Looking slightly bored the demon jumped in to explain a little more. "You know the guy well. You and your girl sent him packing south of the border if you catch my meaning. Don't ask me how but the son of a bitch apparently figured he could get up and leave when he wanted. Now I'm tasked with taking time from MY vacation and making sure he gets deported from this world again." The meaning of the demon's words eventually became clear and without thinking twice about what I was doing I threw my dagger and watched as it hit the traitor to the hunters in her left knee. With a shout she fell to the ground and tried to pull it out. Meanwhile I walked up to her and stepped on the dagger to drive it in more. Granted this was not normally me. I knew what was happening to me but lucky for her I still had enough control to keep myself from killing her. Picking her up by the hair I made it clear I was not going to play around or be nice about this. "Where the hell is Lantis? Either you can tell me now or I can make the rest of your life a hell on Earth. Then when he joins you down there I'm sure he'll take as much time as he wants to make you remember that you failed him." She may not have expected me to be violent but she knew better now and wasn't going to waste my time anymore. "He's at the old Wood Water Church that Father Farwell use to run. After he died no one took it over and evetually vampires started to hide out in the basement. He's got the female vampire and the halfbreed with him."

Upon hearing that my wife and sister were being held captive I stomped on the dagger and as much as it sickened me I enjoyed her scream at the same time. She crossed a line few people crossed. Those that did all died. Even so the part of my brain that wanted to avoid bloodshed with humans told me to stop. Bending down I retrieved my dagger from her knee. It was tempting to give in to my hunger and get rid of one so evil. However it would make me like those I went after so I refused. Instead I licked some of the blood off the blade before putting it away. As I looked down at her I made my intentions clear. "Your lucky. Those that put my family in danger die but you have your life. However if I find Myra and Gyvien dead I will spend the rest of my life looking for you. In the meantime you'd best leave Wood Water. Even if they are alive don't think I'll totally forgive you. You are no longer welcome in this town. Cross my path again and I will assume your working against me and my family." After I let her go I sighed while I watched her stumble off into the dark. "It's people like her that make it hard for me to follow my no kill policy on human" I said out loud to no one in general. I had begun to make my way to the church when I noticed I was being followed. I almost forgot about the demon that helped me. "Well your a fine fellow to go walking off without so much as a thank you" he said in what I took to be a mock annoyed tone. He struck me as being very smart so I was pretty sure he knew I had a bit on my mind knowing that the two most important people in my life were being held by a madman that should have been in the same flaming pit that this demon had come from. With a nod in his general direction I said "Well I do thank you for the help. I take it your coming along as well?" Laughing the demon said "Well that ass Lantis ruined my day so now I've got to ruin his. Besides there's something about demons and vampires fighting it out in an old run down church that strikes me as intresting. Name's Beelzedon. Oh and before I forget let me say that was an exceptional shot with the dagger."
------

Yeah I know I'm over the mark but at one point late in the post my keyboard screwed up and forced me to reset my whole system. Even so it wouldn't have made a difference. The way I see it if I'm out I'm out. Numerous things kept me from posting earlier. Some were my fault and others weren't. Even so I'd rather be out for missing the deadline that be out for not posting at all ^_~

Oh and I hope I got your character right MC. I have a feeling he may be off in some spots but I tried! ^_^;

[Mystic_clown]

Nope, you did pretty well Rudy.

[Plantae]

Firstly, you all have made the deadline succinctly enough. Trust even if you had been a couple minutes after, or even a half hour, I probably would have accepted your entry. There is some leniency here, as is with the editing rule of fifteen minutes, which a few of you might have skirted around. I was not even here to see the end of the deadline anyway.

All entries will be judged in as quick a fashion as possible. Judge comments on a post will be available by request via private message. I will post scores up once the judging is complete.

classy_cat18 and Crazy Elf Boy: as of this moment, you are disqualified.

[Asilynne]

I hope the results are up soon, the suspense is killing me! ^-^()

[Plantae]

If all goes well, Round 1 scores should be up by tomorrow. Otherwise expect them by Sunday.

[Mystic_clown]

*crosses finger* please get me a good score.

[Plantae]

My scores and comments are finished tidily. I apologize for the wait, but some of the other, busier judges are lagging behind. Hopefully the scores will be up by day's end.

[Asilynne]

*taps foot* What could be more important than the Grand RPG Tournament?? Come on Kalah and Roy step to it! I want to know ;.;

[Plantae]

The scores have finally arrived! Also check the first post for the rules for Round 2.

SCORES
In first this round is - Vulpix.ck
Creativity - 14/15
Requirements - 9/10
Linguistics - 14/15
Entertainment Level - 4/5
Total - 41/45

In second this round is - Weasel Overlord
Creativity - 13.5/15
Requirements - 7/10
Linguistics - 14/15
Entertainment Level - 4.5/5
Total - 39/45

In third this round is - Sheila Rae
Sheila Rae
Creativity - 12/15
Requirements - 9/10
Linguistics - 13/15
Entertainment Level - 3.5/5
Total - 37.5/45

4. Ace64
Ace64
Creativity - 12/15
Requirements - 9/10
Linguistics - 12/15
Entertainment Level - 3/5
Total - 36/45

5. Asilynne
Creativity - 12.5/15
Requirements - 8/10
Linguistics - 10.5/15
Entertainment Level - 3.5/5
Total - 34.5/45

6. SuperSonicMewtwo
Creativity - 9/15
Requirements - 8/10
Linguistics - 10/15
Entertainment Level - 3/5
Total - 30/45

7. Master Rudy
Creativity - 7/15
Requirements - 7/10
Linguistics - 10/15
Entertainment Level - 3/5
Total - 27/45

8. Bear
Bear
Creativity - 8/15
Requirements - 5/10
Linguistics - 10/15
Entertainment Level - 3/5
Total - 26/45

9. Mystic_clown - Eliminated
Creativity - 7.5/15
Requirements - 5/10
Linguistics - 7.5/15
Entertainment Level – 1.5/5
Total – 21.5/45

[Bear]

Should we be posting the forms for sign ups too? Or just the plot?

[Plantae]

You can leave out the sign-up form.

[Bear]

[size=5][b][color=silver]The Shattering: Society Begins Anew

There once was a great civilization, brimming with energy. There was one nation, Koguryo, ruled by the benevolent King Yuri. This nation was divided into three city-states, each governed by one of Yuri’s three children. Prince Kija was in charge of the sparsely populated Nagnang, heavily wooded and home to mostly farmers and hunters. Prince M’hul governed Kugnae, city of merchants and capital of Koguryo. The third and largest city was Buya, which was under the eyes of the beautiful Princess LaSahn. Buya was full of people, but not overcrowded, and every day was a busy day. Most of the craftsmen in the land lived here. The three cities were separated by a wide, thriving Wilderness.
Koguryo was watched over by the four Totem Gods. Hyun Moo lived in the northern part of the Wilderness, and was personified by a massive black Turtle. Chung Ryong, the blue Dragon, had his temple in the East. Ju Jak’s area was in the South, with the temple there housing a giant statue of the red Phoenix. Finally, Baekho the white Tiger called the West his home. Together, these four Totems kept watch over the land, rewarding the good citizens with Karma, and cursing those who disobeyed order.
There was little war in Koguryo. The few disputes that occurred were usually the direct result of family squabble and sibling rivalry. Occasionally, serious conflict would occur. Powerful and evil forces would sometimes rise up, disrupting the peace in the land. However, any unrest was usually short lived, as the strong bond of brotherhood between the citizens would overcome all threats.
Now, there was not much social stratification in Koguryo. All citizens were protected by the same rights and laws. However, there was most definitely a distinct difference between the rich and the poor, the strong and the weak, the skilled and the unskilled. Some people struggled from day to day to feed their families, spending most of their time hunting sheep in the fields for wool to sell. Others were so rich they didn’t have to work very hard, buying and selling expensive items to turn profit. Many of the citizens were craftsmen of various levels, such as Tailors, Carpenters, Gem cutters, and Smiths. They would make their money by collecting or buying raw materials, refining them, and then selling their results to other craftsmen, merchants, or citizens.
In fact, the only concrete division between the people came through their Magic. Each citizen specialized in a certain type of magic, like healing (Poet) or offensive magic (Mage). Some specialized in other types of magic designed for self enhancement, like the Warriors and the Rogues. This was not a fighting or warring society, but people were taught magic at an early age, because you never know when it’ll come in handy….
Even with all this activity and business, the citizens of Koguryo still enjoyed the leisure of the Arts. Muses would perform plays and host poetry contests. Fighters and strategists could attend the Carnages, or mock wars where death was merely simulated, and winning teams were awarded prizes. The bravest and strongest warriors would venture to the Mythic Circle, where they would hunt powerful beasts. The risk of death was high, but the experience and magic items the creatures gave up was an alluring reward.
Despite the absence of social classes, many citizens had organized themselves into Clans. These clans were essentially common interest or family groups, designed to make daily life and work more efficient and interesting. Some clans were devoted entirely to the Arts, such as the Muses. Others were based on a certain craft, like the Weavers. Still others were simply restricted to family heritage. Even the Carnage aficionados had a clan. They weren’t rivals or enemies, and didn’t compete with each other. Most of the time they were friendly with each other, and often collaborated on community projects, like festivals.
The land of Koguryo lived peacefully this way for many, many years. However, things slowly began to change. People discovered ways to cheat the system and duplicate money and items, widening the already enormous gap between rich and poor. People found easy ways to increase their power and magic, gain unlimited Karma, and hog the many rooms of the mythic caves. The Totem Gods witnessed all of this, and saw the inevitable self-destruction this nation would endure. Faced with a difficult decision, the Gods decided to intervene, and save the society from its cruel fate. What was about to happen would later be called…

The Shattering.

One day, without warning, the citizens of Koguryo were interrupted by the intense howling of the winds. They were shocked by a massive earthquake, loud thunder, and torrential rain. Before anyone knew what was happening, the entire land was simultaneously shrouded in the darkest of darkness, visibility impossible. Everyone and everything was induced into a deep sleep, and were frozen in place. Once everything was set, the Gods began their work. They removed all money and currency from every corner of the land. They destroyed items and property, buildings and monuments. Any materialistic indulgence was obliterated. The Gods even delved into the very minds of the people, removing their knowledge of magic and craftsmanship. Essentially, the land itself was set back countless generations, technology and wealth lost outright.
Having finally finished, the Gods observed their work. They were sorrowful, but knew that this was the best way to help their people. They swiftly returned to their temples, preparing to release the world from its stasis.
Slowly, people began to wake up. They got to their feet, bewildered and confused. Some suffered headaches, others amnesia. It didn’t take people long to realize that something was missing. Everything was missing. Some people grasped the event quickly, and began weeping with their families over their destitution. Others took longer, remaining in a daze for a long time. All was strange and eerie, until the announcement came from the King: Countless people gathered around the message posts around the palace walls, reading the scroll from Yuri:

Dear citizens,

I’m sure confusion and overwhelm are merely fractions of what you must be feeling. I address you today to relay a message, left for us by the Totem Gods themselves. According to them, we’ve been returned to creation. All of our possessions, magic skills, and technology have been negated. Essentially, we must start over. We must find new ways to survive. We must re-learn our crafts and magic. We must re-discover lost technology…
Now, in the face of this catastrophe, we must not forget who we are. The Gods have tremendous faith in us, and have trusted us with the arduous task of rebuilding the land. I have been assured that my authority remains intact, so that I may lead you fine citizens to happiness and prosperity once more. Life will be difficult for a while, but if we trust in each other and help our brothers, we will undoubtedly succeed in our efforts. Please, now, return to your homes and your families. Be with them. Share this message with those unable to see it themselves. Remember, your King is still here to protect you, so do not fear. May the Gods be with you, and your path be balanced.

~King Yuri~

====================================

Essentially, I intend this RPG to follow the people as they slowly rebuild their lives. If I were to host this RPG, I would be throwing in twists and events as the story progresses, so as to give the participants some excitement. These could come in the form of enemy attacks/uprisings, Arts festivals, new lands discovered, the arrival of Pirates, etc. This RPG is a bit different than the norm because it’s fairly open-ended. It could theoretically go in any direction the participants wanted it to. That’s why it has the capability to run for a really long time.


EDIT: Forgot to include the Element I used for the requirement portion. I used Element #9, minimum violence. It's also based in ancient times (~2000 BC), but I dunno if that satisfies the requirement for #1.
NOTE TO JUDGES: Plantae approved this edit.

[Plantae]

It seems you're on the ball this time around, Bear. In any case, I made an error with the deadline. It is August the 4th, not the second.

[Asilynne]

~*~Galileo's Children~*~

It is January 7th, 1610. On the surface of planet Earth, a man peers intently at the night sky through a crude telescope. His well trained eyes patiently scan the heavens, studying, learning. Suddenly he comes across a discovery, three worlds, what he will discover to be four worlds a few nights later, appeared and dissapeared as the night went on. With a gasp of awe he realises, these four entities were revolving around one central world: Jupiter, King of the Planets.
Galileo went on to fight many battles to make his genius known. But little did he know that another battle was going on many light years away, on the distant worlds he viewed through his telescope that night. That those four worlds he viewed held much more than even his genius could comprehend.

A transmission crackles through space, almost losing itself in the vast graphite rings that circle the striped gas giant, before finding its way to a small transport ship. The engines sputtered and shook, as the occupants tried frantically to respond. Their flagship was not far away, as the broken message relayed. The strong feminine voice of the commander gave them strength, asked them to hold on a few moments longer. "Princess Alaris has given us an order!" The captain of the transport ship yelled, struggling to keep his footing on a ship that violently tried to shake him to the ground. Sparks flew from a bulkhead to punctuate his words, and a crewmate was thrown to the far side of the ship. "And that order, is to stay ali------"
In a flash it was gone. The light of Jupiter gleamed off its hull just before it exploded, like a small supernova drowned out by the light of the massive planet. A fleet of battle ships flew through the wreckage, adding insult to injury as it vaporised the debris of the civilian ship it destroyed. Then, like a flock of predator birds they flew back the way they came, almost taunting in their movements as their black, scopion-like shape retreated into the darkness of surrounding space.
The CJRS Jovis arrived moments later, too late to save the crew, too late to take home the comfort of vengence to their families. "Too late...." Princess Alaris whispered, her black gloved fists tightly clenched. For a moment her steely composure was shaken, and a tear escaped from her shining silver eyes and rolled slowly down the ocean blue skin of her cheek before she wiped it away. Turning to her second in command she barked out an order. "Relay a message to the rest of the royal family. Tell them...." What would she say? That she was too late to save them, that she trusted those who have been known to be untrustworthy? Nothing could change that now, peace seemed a very real possibility at the time, or at the very least a cease of hostilities. Her people were not natural warriors, they were scientists, who loved to study the worlds around them and within them. Their minds were not meant to be abused with thoughts of war and weapons. No, she did not regret reaching out for peace, even though it turned out to be a false one.
Her second in command reguarded her with waiting eyes that hid a slight concern. Snapping back to attention, her voice regained its normal confidence. "Tell them the Merchant Ship Raksis has been destroyed....by Saturnian Stingfighters. The cease fire is over...."
She sank down into her seat, mind racing with a million things as she seemed to only talk to herself.
"War has begun."

"Prince Exvo, Alpha fleet has reported that they have destroyed the Ganymedan ship Raksis." The Saturnian commander smiled as he reported the battle to his superior. "Completely destroyed. The Jovis is now en route to Callisto, no doubt to do more of the 'talking' they are so fond of." The commander smirked again as Prince Exvo rose to come face to face with him. The Prince was shorter than Commander Lyki by five inches, making him well below the average male Saturnian height of four feet six inches, but his gaze froze the commander in place.
"I dont like your tone, Commander. Are we friends?" His sharp eyes drilled daggars into Lyki, making him feel as through he were the size of a child. "N..no my Prince...I...I BEG your forgiveness!" Lyki shook as he fell to his knees, bowing deep to his Prince. He did his best to keep his eyes on the ground, though he could still feel that sharp gaze punching holes in his soul.
"I dont appreciate 'quips' and 'opinions' in my inferior officer's reports, Commander. You know what will happen if you displease me." He turned to sit back in his chair, pleased at the grovelling Lyki displayed. Inferiors should know better than that, for all have at least once seen what happens when disobediance is dealt with. Exvo couldnt help but smile as he peered at his viewscreen. It always made him feel good to show his Superiority, and with these recent events, it was just icing on the cake. The Jovian System would fall, for his people had created the perfect warrior, made from the flesh of the Earth people and the finest technology Saturn's people had to offer. The young Princess and her royal family could not stand against the new Model Three's.
Standing up once again he almost tripped on the still grovelling Commander Lyki. Exvo's temper flared as he gave the unfortunate man a hard kick. Lyki grunted and whimpered as he crawled away from the Prince, trying to make himself as small as possible. "Get up," the Prince ordered. "And open me a channel to Titan Command," Prince Exvo grinned and straightened himself to his full height.
"I wish to inform the Sritseer himself that our plan is in motion."


For years the four moons of the Jovian system have been at war with Titan, largest moon of Saturn. Not one memeber of either side could tell you why, or what started this war. But it continued, in a sick tradition through the generations, neither side conceding to the other. Until one day the Saturnians made a surprising move- they requested a meeting on Callisto, Chair Satellite of the Jovian System. Prince Exvo himself attended, and became a chief figurehead of the Saturnians, voting for an end to the conflict. He met with Princess Alaris, and the two talked for many days. Over time they came to a shaky agreement, and an equally shaky friendship. A Cease Fire was signed, and it seemed that the two Systems would finally have the long awaited peace that was dreamed for by the people of the Jovian Satellites.
But it was not to last, the destruction of the Raksis not only broke the cease fire, but also was a killing blow to the trust of the Princess of Callisto. Exvo's betrayal had hardened her heart, and it looked as though the lingering peace she once hoped for was now a distant memory. War has begun, and it looked like peace would never come again.

Ok! In this RPG there are six races in total. Four on the Jovian side and two on the Saturnian side.

Jovians: There are four varieties of Jovians, all with very different traits, but all of them share the same basic genes. They all lay eggs, they all are bipedal (except for the females of one race) and they all have only three fingers and a thumb on each hand. But here is where the similarities end.

Ionians: Io is the cloest of the four to Jupiter, and also the most geologically active. Due to the frequent volcanic erupions Ionians have adapted to extreme heat, and the great sulpher seas make a good place for them to relax. These people have built great cities over the tops of non active volcanoes. Their skin color is Orange-red, and their eye colors range from common to rare: red, yellow, green or black. Their hair is usually either red or yellow, though some other clolrs have been known to surface due to crossbreeding with people of the other moons. Their ears are slightly long and droop downwards, and they have a dusky orange colored lizardlike tail.

Males: Shorter than the females, they have larger eyes and fangs. Sporting leathery wings, they spend their time in a carefree manner for the most part, and rarely do they ever hold any position of power, leaving important decisions to the women. Simple minded, almost like children, they would rather play their day away and have very short attention spans.
Females: Slightly taller than males, they are wingless but prefer to wear jewelry adorning their tails. They have hot tempers and many squabbles between females have often come to blows. But the fights are usually over quickly and as quickly forgotten about. They make most of the decisions with reguards to government.

Europese: Not to be confused with Europeans on Earth, the Europese of Europa have adapted well to their Moon. Europa is covered in great sheets of ice, much like techtonic plates, over a vast moonwide sea. Because of the fact that the surface is always changing, any city built on the surface would most likely be destroyed once the ice sheets shifted, and so they have adapted entirely for living underwater. They build their round globe-like cities under the ice, suspended in water. Their skin color is a very light lavendar, and their eye color is usually a yellow or a very light green. Their hair varies little, in light shades of pastel sea green or powder blue. They have fin-like ears and gills on their neck. Lacking the ability to breathe any kind of air without the prescence of water, they must wear a "water globe" around their neck if they wish to leave the water. Both the males and the females have webbed hands.

Males: Unlike the females, they have legs, with webbed feet, and short horns growing from their temples. They also have a very thin, webbed tail.
Females: Instead of legs, they have a long webbed tail, much like a mermaids tail. Other than these physical differences and the fact that the males are used for dimplomatic relations (due to the fact the females cant leave the water for any reason) both males and females of this race are relatively alike in social standing.

Ganymedans: Ganymede is the largest moon of the four, with high mountains and low canyons. It often snows, and its not uncommon to go many 'days' without any kind of light (besides that of the stars and the occasional moon around it). The major cities have been typically built inside the deep canyons of the surface, but in recent times some have been built in the open admist the snow. They are well adapted for low light conditions as well as the chill of the air. Their skin is tan, slightly resembling the color of some human races, but they typically have white or gray hair. Their eye color ranges from the most common color red, to shades of brown, blue and black. They have semi-long pointed ears.

Males: The main difference between males and females are the heights. Males typically range from 6'6" to 7ft, with the tallest among them (although very rare) being 9ft. Easygoing personalities, they are skilled in the arts, and typically tend to be more creative than the females.
Females: Much shorter than the males, averaging at about 5ft tall. They have small, thin antennae on top of their heads, which can cause a small electrical charge. The females of this race use these antennae in their mating games, they touch antennae with another female and attempt to shock the other one into backing down. The winner has the male of their choice, and once a mate is chosen, it usually lasts a lifetime, though it has been heard of that a female will still attempt to challenge another for a mate that has already been chosen. The females often have to "defend their titles" in these standoffs. When it comes to political matters they tend to not care, and leave the decision making to the males. They are far too busy defending the right to have their chosen mate to care what goes on in the worlds beyond theirs.

Callisto-Jovians: The surface of their world is nearly inhospitable, snowstorms rage and winds howl with tornado force almost constantly. Because of this they live almost entirely underwater, though there are tunnels through the ice above the sea, opening out into small dome-shaped lodges. These lodges are places to rest and study for the amphibious race, and each lodge houses two to three families. Most of the time is spent underwater, and though they can breathe air, they have small gills on the palms of both hands where they absorb the oxygen from the water. These gills have to be protected from the air and so many Callisto-Jovians wear sealed gloves when on dry land. Their skin is a deep blue which varies in shade based on the mood, and their eye color is almost exclusively silver or a very light blue. Their hair varies from black being the most common, to silver, lavendar, and deep purple. Their feet are toeless and flipper shaped to allow them to swim efficiently, and also allow them to walk when out of the water.

Males: Very simple minded, the males of this race are never trusted to do much of anything in the way of science or politics. Though they are sentient, they are so in a simplistic way, and have a hard time understanding complexities. If an instruction is given too fast or to complicated, or too many instructions are given at once, the males find it hard to cope and become frustrated. However, they are very good at one thing: childrearing. They have a deep instinctive knowledge when it comes to children that the females seem to totally lack. They can teach simple things and seem to have infinate patience, and despite lacking great intellegence, they have a wonderful sense of wisdom.
Females: Its very much a matriarchal society. The females make all of the decisions reguarding everything, and seem to forget the males are there. Many who have no desire to have children dont respect the men at all, and think them a waste of the resources on the moon, but this view is rarely shared. Most have an instinctive desire to protect their simplistic minds from anything too stressful and enjoy watching them with the children. They have an intimate knowledge of all kinds of science and mathmatics, and many sometimes lose themselves for days working on a particular equation.

And now, the other side of the war....

Saturnians: Inhabitants of Saturn's moon, Titan. Long ago they had conquered any other sentient forms of life that had once lived within their system, and so they have taken to calling themselves the Saturnians, no longer the Titains. Thier moon is a vast sandy desert, though a relatively cool desert, and sandstorms are quite frequent. Not much is known about them from the Jovian point of view, except that they tend to live in dune shaped cities which are hard to find, as they blend in well with the surrounding sand. Saturnians typically have light green colored skin, yellow or blue eyes and yellow, white or tan hair. Their ears are very long and pointed, are very close to their heads, and despite their small size they are very strong. The men are very dominant, and the females are taught from an early age to obey whatever a man says. The males have every say in what goes on in politics and science, and they adhere closely to a caste system. The lower rungs of the caste system are at the complete mercy of the higher ups, and may even be killed on a whim with no repercussions. However, if a lower rank so much as talks back to one of higher rank, he will be severely tortured and eventually killed, or if he is left alive he will be marked, which is a fate worse than death. The Marked walk like living ghosts among normal members of the society, and though he may cry and scream no one will seem to notice. They are forever ignored as long as they live, which isnt long as most of the Marked end their own lives rather than live forever ignored. Their society is built around technology, and they recently began to dabble in cybornetics.

Model Three's: The product of one human kidnapped from Earth's DNA mixed with that of a Saturnian and outfitted with cybornetic parts. The Model Ones failed at the embryonic stage, the Model Two's had problems with cybornetic capability, but the Model Three's had most if not all of the kinks worked out. They are programmed to do one thing only--kill those of the Jovian system. The sentient part of their brain is closed off and they live only to serve the Saturnians as their tool. They were engineered to be the perfect killing machine.

PM sent to Plantae as I may or may not actually make this a real one lol I worked hard enough on it so I might, it depends on if anyone would join it ^-^()
The elements used were:

1. The time period of the plot or the time period the plot is based on is equivalent of either prehistoric times or any time between the end of the renaissance and the 1900's.

2. The plotline involves a war between more than two factions.
And I think thats it, some of the others would be stretching it lol

[Ace64]

Magic: Division

It had been a world shattered by war- the survivors hoped to pick up the pieces.

In a land filled with magic and mystery, there was once a great war. The rulers of the country, divided over issues long since forgotten, plunged the world into a brutal conflict. Armies that numbered tens of thousands were summoned through powerful magic, while destructive spells razed the lands. In the end, there was no winner. Rather than allow one man to become victor, the leaders destroyed each other, and much of the world as well. When the smoke cleared, 1/8 of the world had been reduced to ashes, completely uninhabitable.

Government officials, secretaries, judges, and various other leaders of the branches of the world's government, came together in the aftermath. They determined that the cause of the war, and the impending destruction of the world, had been chiefly the work of magic. In time, with effort, the world could be rebuilt- new civilizations would rise from the ashes of the old. But what was the use, if history repeated itself? These men vowed to never again allow such a thing to happen. Magic was extremely useful, but in the wrong hands, it was dangerous, wild, unpredictable. It had to be harnessed and controlled. Thus, the Council was formed, with the former government officials at its core. Under their lead, magic would be strictly checked, unavailable to the public save for the most extreme measures. They would create a world without war.

Fast forward one hundred years. The world has grown as the Council had intended it. Slowly but surely, the people had grown in number, spreading across the earth. There had been few conflicts- it was the dream of many little boys and girls to one day take a job in the Council. Magic was used only by agents of the Council, whose services were available to purchase at a nominal fee. However, there were a few hiccups. Magic was an inherited skill, and sometimes, it would announce its presence in quite an unusual way. A young girl in the farmlands might explode in magical fire, igniting her father's crops and destroying his livelihood. A young man in the city would disappear into thin air while walking along a city street and be run over by a carriage. But such incidents were quickly covered up, very hush-hush. Agents of the Council were always trying to stay one step ahead, courting any new Magic-user with a job for the Council.

However, there was a rebellion growing. Pockets of resistance, made up of normal people and Magic-users alike, gathered together, protesting the Council's views towards Magic. The Council would ignore them publicly, but secretly, men would be dispatched to take the dissenters into custody. The public, raised to believe that the Council was defending their interests, never bothered to notice what might be happening. Outcasts of society, the Resistance went underground. Their goal- to remove the Council's grip on Magic, and give people the right to choose.
----
Based on the NWN mod Hex Coda by Stephen Gagne. Basically, an RP-er can choose either the side of the Resistance, or the Council. Either will be given access to magic, though that is not the primary point. The goal is to gain enough political power (Council) or public support(Resistance) in order to push your methods through. Members of the Resistance will meet up with each other, while the Council will be seeking them constantly.

Magic is the antagonistic force here (in the eyes of the Council), though its wielders are not. Also, they are warring factions, of a kind.

[Bear]

Males: ...they spend their time in a carefree manner for the most part, and rarely do they ever hold any position of power, leaving important decisions to the women. Simple minded, almost like children, they would rather play their day away and have very short attention spans.
Females: ...They have hot tempers and many squabbles between females have often come to blows. But the fights are usually over quickly and as quickly forgotten about...

lol...

[Weasel Overlord]

[color=silver]Wheee! *crashes in with entry* This is fuuun! ^____^

[center][color=palegreen][u]Aer

[color=#83a487]Due to extensive deforestation, the human population has been almost entirely wiped out, whether by natural, oxygen-lacking death, or other, more sinister methods practised by the Earth’s native and vengeful fauna.

The few remaining flora are heavily protected by the most war-like of creatures, that is to say the Ursidae and the Lupus Canis and the others who have adequate teeth, claws and wits for such a task.

For the remaining trees must be protected, they cannot protect themselves, after all. Devoid of movement, all they can do is watch, mute and anguished, as their kin are destroyed by the plague that is the Homosapien.

But this plague is no more, we made sure of that, my children. And it is our task; our great and venerable task to ensure that this virus on the very surface of our planet is not allowed to ever exist again.

Look around you, if you ever doubt what they are capable of.

Deforestation. This is a word we gleaned entirely from them. For only the Homosapien is and has ever been obtuse enough to destroy that which gives them life.

For without the vital trees and plants, they withered and died, unaware that it was their own destructive ways which were the very cause of their death as they suffocated, painfully and at length.

Over time, for the process was by no means speedy; we had adapted to survive on smaller amounts of oxygen, many species even taking to living in water to breathe the precious air. And it was this slow and steady evolution, for it was evolution, which allowed us to outlive the foolish Homosapiens of Earth.

For us who chose to dwell on land still, there are few remaining safe areas; sacred Groves of great Oak, Hornbeam and Beech, clustered together for safety in these ravaged lands.

Outside these Groves the land is desolate indeed. Near silent, for no avian will make nest there; empty, save for the next Grove, shimmering on the horizon like a mirage of which the Desert denizens speak, wavering in and out of vision until you are sure that it does not truly exist.

To our knowledge, there are seven of these sacred Groves left to grace our lands, each containing hardy and unique families of trees; whether Beech, Ash or Laburnum; Fern, Chestnut or Cacao.

[color=#6a9669]From the direction of the morning sun, there stands great Salicae, home to Willow, Poplar and Aspen, and their protectors; the Ursidae, Lupus and Vulpes, Bear, Wolf and Fox. Salicae is the largest Grove to my knowledge, around forty trees in width, with a lake of small proportions somewhere off-centre towards the dawn and, rich with Salmon, the River Salus rushes towards the West, and the Second Grove, with which it connects in a mighty fall of water.

[color=palegreen]The Second Grove, Rosceae, has always been the most beautiful in mine eyes, with flowering Pear, Plum and Rowan sustaining the many bird families who are this Grove’s protectors. From tiny Thrush to predatory Eagle all live in the peace of a species united against common enemy.

[color=darkgreen]Third and smallest of the Groves is Quercus, containing Oak, Chestnut, Beech; Hardwoods of the most sought after varieties by the Homosapien, hence the small stature of this cluster of trees.
Populated by Rodentia of all species, Squirrel jostles for food with Mouse and Rat lives side by side with Jerboa in a busy harmony untouched by visitors.

[color=green]Fourth of our Sacred Groves is wet Malceae, home to Bat, Insect and Bee as the pollinators of the giant Baobab, Durian and Linden. The Third Grove is the one most likened to the Rainforests of legend, where both hot and wet conditions allow for it’s protectors to thrive in their multitudes.

[color=#adff2f]The Fifth of the Groves, Angavae lies directly underneath the strongest rays of the sun, and to the East of the central Grove, Malceae. The sandy home of the Joshua tree, Cordyline and Dracaena, this Grove is the protectorate of the Serpent, Lizard and Frog. The largest of these families, the Varanidae, or Komodo Dragon, make up the brute force of this group, talons and teeth being enough to deter enemies.

[color=#8fbc8f]As the world grows colder, we come to the Sixth Grove; shining Abeae and it’s clusters of Fir, Spruce and Pine which accommodate the Mustelidae family. Pine Marten, Weasel, Stoat and Badger are this Grove’s protectors, and they make their homes in the densely wooded quarters of Abeae, burrowing deep into the ground.

[color=#6b8e23]Seventh and most inhospitable, we come to our final Grove; hardy Cupresscae. Used to chillier climes, here you will find Juniper, Sugi and Cedar, and their protectors, the Ape, Gibbon and Marmoset fend off any Northern enemies which may appear.

[color=#83a487]All seven Groves, though differing in the Protected species of Flora, are vigilantly protected by their native Fauna families. Each Grove has it’s own prey and predators, as is the natural order of things, and this order sustains the Protectors.

But now, young ones, the time has come for us to take measures to repopulate our world. Each Grove sent an emissary to Salicae, our home, and it is this council who decided that precious seeds must be spread about the earth once more.

It is to you, our young, that this task has been entrusted.” I looked around at the eager faces circled around my feet and scuffled my paws to emphasise my words.
“We ask for a volunteer from each species to carry a selection of our sacred seeds out into the wide world. You need not travel alone; in groups you will likely be safer and more able to defend yourselves...” Turning my head, I glanced at each tree which encircled our gathering. “Each tree you see here is of the utmost importance, and they must travel into the world beyond in order for our world to survive.” My teeth bared at the thought of the Homosapiens who had made our world this way, and I continued, new stress in each of my words.

“You will see no humans. This has been seen to long before you were born; none are left alive. Meet here, as the sun fades, for the allocation of your seed and travelling partners.” I bowed my old head, wishing for one last time that I could be travelling too, but it was not to be. There was no place for an old battle-scarred Lupus in the outside world.

“I thank you, young ones. Your deeds will ever be remembered...”

The various listeners faded out as was their way, and I padded back to the council to prepare for sun-down.

It would be the dawning of a new era for our world; one without the meddling of the Homosapiens. The world we had adapted so painfully to would finally be ours once more.

I threw back my head and howled, signalling the Council-Gather. It would all begin at sun-down.

[color=palegreen]~

[color=#83a487]Okay! Basically, there are seven Groves left in the world after the intense deforestation of the Human race. Players may begin the RPG in any of the seven Groves;


[color=#6a9669]First Grove – Salicae

Home to - Willow, Poplar and Aspen.
Protectors – Wolf, Bear, Fox.

Salicae is the largest Grove, being around forty trees in width. It is roughly circular in shape, resembling a sized-down version of a small forest-type structure.
The small lake, Lake Sal, is off-centre to the East side, and it empties out into the River Salus, which joins Roscae in a large waterfall.
Salicae stands in high ground, looking out over the West of the ravished lands. A good view of Roscae can be found from the brink of Salus Falls.
The lake and River are well-populated with Salmon, which forms the basic diet of the Bear Protectors, and there are a large amount of smaller species, such as the Rabbit which form the diet of the Wolf and the Fox.

[color=palegreen]Second Grove – Rosceae

Home to – Pear, Plum and Rowan.
Protectors – Birds of any variety. Eagle, Crow, Sparrow, whatever you want. ^_^

Roscae is home to a large plunge-pool where the Salus Falls empty. Away from the churning waters, the pool is still and calm, surrounded by fruiting trees in a semi-circular formation. Always noisy, the air is filled with birdsong and chattering, and the whooshing of diving Eagle wings.
Small rodents such as Field-mice, Voles and Dormice are the staple diet of the carnivorous birds, along with the occasional stolen egg.

[color=darkgreen]Third Grove – Quercus

Home to – Oak, Chestnut and Beech.
Protectors – Rodents; Rat, Mouse, Squirrel etc.

Quercus has the most temperate climate, and it’s seasonal trees show a great variety of colour throughout the year. The tall trees of Quercus are home to the Squirrels, and they are laid out in small clusters, roughly two metres apart. Containing many drays and small mouse-holes dug into the soft earth, the dark, welcoming shade of the Oak is cooling, even on the hottest of days.
Quercus is the smallest of the Sacred Groves, probably due to the high demand on the Hardwood trees which grow there, and the formation of the tiny pond remains a mystery. No matter how much is drunk from it, the water level never decreases.

[color=green]Fourth Grove – Malceae

Home to – Baobab, Durian and Linden.
Protectors – Bat, Insect and Bee. Anything from the insect family, or such beings.

Hot and steamy, this Grove is constantly buzzing with insect-life. Moist and dark, the earth is the perfect home for worms and insects, and the hanging foliage often drips with moisture from it’s frequent showers.
Dark and damp, the trees almost lean on each other in their closeness, and the shape of this Grove is a rough square, each ‘point’ for each Compass point.
The ground, soft from frequent rain, can be compared to that of swamplands, with the occasional tuft of hardy grass poking through.

[color=#adff2f]Fifth Grove – Algavae

Home to – Joshua tree, Cordyline and Dracaena.
Protectors – Serpent, Lizard and Frog. Any species of reptile or amphibian.

Hot and sandy, Algavae is the home to cacti, reptiles and other interesting trees. In a semi-circle similar to that of Rosceae, a beautiful, clear pool is where the Amphibians make their home. Tufts of grass sprout from the sand at random intervals, and the cool bases of the trees offer shelter from the baking sun; and the many flat rocks offer basking surfaces for the cold-blooded reptiles.

[color=#6b8e23]Sixth Grove - Abeae

Home to – Fir, Spruce and Pine.
Protectors – Pine Marten, Weasel, Stoat, Badger; anything from the Mustelidae family, generally.

The trees of Abeae are spread thinly over a large surface area, with sizable gaps of about one metre between each trunk. Deep setts and holes litter the ground in Abeae, home to the Badger and a whole host of other Mustelids. The more needle-shaped ‘leaves’ litter the ground and provide a handy and comfortable bedding material.
The larger stream which runs musically through Abeae is studded with rocks, shallow and easy to cross.

[color=#8fbc8f] Seventh Grove – Cupresscae

Home to – Juniper, Sugi and Cedar.
Protectors – Ape, Gibbon and Marmoset. Anything from the Primate family.

The trees of Seventh Grove are clustered close together, and wide-spreading, providing the perfect home for it’s Primate Protectors. The berry-eating monkeys live in the high branches of the Juniper and Cedar, picking off berries and grubs for their meals.
The trees of Cupresscae are hardy and strong, and the small pool which lies at the centre of the Grove is cold and crystal clear and teeming with darting silver fishes.

[color=palegreen]~

[color=#83a487]Once you’ve chosen your Grove and Species, (make sure that they correlate!) you are free to start your adventure! This RPG is completely free-form, meaning that you aren’t held to a set plot. You can be one of the young Protectors, setting out to plant the precious seeds, or you can be a simple travelling companion, or an animal who wishes to sabotage the entire plan for whatever reason.

If you wish to be one of the more nomadic creatures, living outside the Groves, or an amphibious creature, simply state in the sign-up form that this is your intention, and give plenty of detail about your origins.

This RPG is set on Earth, minus the Humans, so all the original geography applies. The Groves lie in a roughly diagonal line, starting from near England, (ish) and ending round about the Northern pole(but not the North Pole, obviously... no trees there), travelling in an East to West direction. (sun-up to sun-down)

[size=1]Use of Element 8) The plot revolves around creatures, with no planned human contact

[Sheila Rae]

[color=darkred][size=8][font=brush script mt]"The Red Thread"

[size=2][font=palatino linotype][color=darkred]Earth, present day: The Middle East is in turmoil, global warming is on the rise, and the civil rights controversies rage. Despite the innumerable worldly conflicts, there are a handful of people throughout the world that anguish in a world of their own. They suffer from an unknown affliction in which they feel pain in varying degrees, whether it is physical, mental, or emotional, of the other Afflicted. For example, if one cuts off his finger, any number of the Afflicted may feel anywhere from a cramp to an excruciating pain in their own finger. Each of the Afflicted also seems to feel the pain and agony of a group that their ancestors may have hurt, even if they are unrelated. Examples: A Japanese boy may feel like he has wrong Chinese people (Rape of Nanking), or a daughter of a fundamentalist preacher may feel the pain of gay AIDS victims.

One day, all of the Afflicted receive a message that becomes a turning point in their lives. It could appear etched in the sand of a beach, scribbled on a note handed to them on a stranger, or any other means.

[color=lightgray][font=viner hand itc]The one named Ziek will set you free.

[color=darkred][font=palatino lintoype]Whether a character is searching for alleviation from the nameless affliction or redemption for their sins that have caused so much pain, the Afflicted band together to seek the character named Ziek. Bound by only a red thread, these people must overcome the hurt that has beleaguered them for their entire lives in order to save themselves…and each other.

[color=goldenrod]The Cure Group: These Afflicted share the common interest of finding Ziek for the purpose of removing their pain. Although this may seem like a selfish motive, they realize that all of the Afflicted will benefit if the curse is lifted.

The Redemption Group: They join together to search for Ziek in hopes that he will have the power to absolve them or show them how to redeem themselves. Although they are less concerned about the cure for their affliction, if one exists, but they know that much of their pain will dissolve if they can be forgiven and forgive themselves through redemption.

[color=darkred]Many of the details are up to the characters and their creators. Nationality and location, the extent of medical help they have sought in pertinence to the affliction, family history, etc., can all vary greatly between each character. Diversity is key.

======
Plot Progression:
After the Afflicted split into factions, I would provide different leads and obstacles to Ziek, regarding both where his whereabouts may be and who he is. Perhaps after some conflicts between the two groups, they would eventually unite. Together, they would also try to find out why they are the ones who are afflicted, already knowing that they are bound by a red thread (which, if you didn't guess or realize, is lifeblood). If I did not have to follow any guidelines with his RPG, I may have incorporated something like that when the Afflicted are near each other, their souls are dynamically amplified, and they discover supernatural powers. If this were a real RPG, I would consult Tsukasa or one of my other roleplaying friends for advice and to help me iron out the details. I would probably either have the Afflicted bound because their souls are some of those that G-d created pure when he made the world, and hence they are easily tainted by the faults of human nature (I guess that might have a basis in Classic Hassidic Tales). My other option would be that they were all sold out by some member of their family as infants (not necessarily immediate family) to be genetically engineered. This experiment either ended in a failure or was quite successful; they may have been "designed" as a harbour for pain in order to bring happiness to the greater good, although this, in some ways, has also backfired. I could probably be more thematic with the latter option. Many of the other unanswered questions would probably be guided towards answers by the direction that the game takes.

Elements: #7 and #9 are utilized

[color=white][font=verdana]Gah, this is really bad...It would've been fun to make a character for this one, though! ^^; And I have downloaded a lot of additional fonts, so sometimes I'm not sure which ones are standard with most conputers...so I'm sorry if any appeared messed up!

[Vulpix.ck87]

Between Equines and Avians

Come ride with me, through the veins of history..

The darkness was thick and stifling, and I trod alone now, Zephyr’s wings too wide for the tunnel, and Yhjang hanging back due to the loose shingle beneath my feet, which certainly would not bode well with his hooves. I myself stepped carefully, not welcoming the thought of a twisted ankle or stepping out boldly to find only air, and then a tumultuous fall. Either one would be my end, and both ends would be painful.

I had ridden Zephyr the majority of the way, his sharp eyes spotting a lap in the thermal system, something I would never have seen; and as we drew close the two of us stooped the 50 feet to Yhjang’s level on the ground, and after I mounted upon him he ran hard and fast to our destination. Zephyr rose back up to his usual altitude and soared softly above us - reclining on the thick wells of hot air - and I saw the majesty of his wings silhouetted against the early-blue of the morning sky.

It had been a long time since we had consumed a reasonable form of sustenance, and myself and the equine steed both felt the immeasurable tug no longer as a pain - we were beyond that, which was the most dangerous thing in reality. The first three days of hunger were all but a daze for my own mind and body, I had swanned around like a limp rag, lethargic and with a sole thought in mind: food and water. Once my body adapted to it I was relieved of the discomfort, though that in itself was infinitely more harmful, as one often did not realise their body was digesting itself from this point onward. Knowing of this, myself and Yhjang.. we were driven creatures. Closer and closer, Yhjang soon began to pick up the feeling of permeable stone beneath his hooves, and we ran near to the crack in the stone cliff, hidden behind an outstretched pier of rock. The savannah grass grew more readily here in the feeble shade of the undercut cliff, though remained barren and yellow as was the fashion. I dismounted and bid my companions a hopefully temporary farewell, before slipping in between the encompassing stone walls.

Now back within: I dragged my hands along either side, feeling my way along with a tender awareness and wary hesitation. A hundred steps further down the tunnel and it did not stop - or branch off, nor block. A hundred more and I knew I was on the right track, as the walls became slick beneath my touch, and the shingle began to disperse. I licked the wall gently, and found the tip of my nose wet as well, and smiled purely for the selfish joy within the dark. Insatiable, I hurried down the treacherous path and as it opened up to wider sections I lit a torch, now that there was sufficient air and space for a flame. I smiled no more as light glanced off the wet walls.

I stood in a small cavern, and ahead of me.. was what appeared to be at a dead end.

“No no, I’ve been here before, it shouldn’t be like this..” I muttered rapidly in my thick tongue, the fleeting tinges of panic tickling my ordinarily calm nerves. I hurried over to the far wall, the one blocking me from my destination. “How so..?” I thought back to the days of my childhood, tasted the walls again, lower down, at a child’s height, as I had done so many years before; and I clutched my finely woven scarf to my mouth and nose, breathing the scent in deeply. Remember.. My father.. Hah! Yes, it was different when I had first come, but my father, he had changed it! I looked up and smiled again: there was my entrance.

-------

It was up the craggy walls and into a narrow tunnel - out the other side and into an amazing chasm - and I felt both the corners of my mouth turn up into a wide grin as my lower jaw simultaneously dropped in awe. Present: a mixed expression of the wonderment and nostalgia I was feeling that could never be mirrored again.

“The Old World.” I spoke quietly in reverence to that which we had lost, when times were good and easy and our ancestors carelessly destroyed all that we had: our loves, our wishes and, unfortunately, our necessities. The basic requirements of living things, we let slip so foolishly with our destruction of each other! The war had taken it all.. There had been great oceans, millions of miles of pools of water, and huge blocks of frozen water and light, abundant in its majesty! And there used to be rain..

Ha, Rain. That was but a myth since before I was born, and a nursery tale in my childhood, like that of dragons and unicorns. And despite all that we lost, people did not learn, for they did not accept the responsibility of their actions. Oh, why has God forsaken us?! they cried. You condemned yourselves to this life of death and gruelling hardship.. was the only response silent in my mind. As the earth had dried up they blamed Mother Earth and her mysterious ways, refusing to acknowledge the fact that they alone were the ones who had committed such a dire sin.

And they did not learn, for they continued to war. This time : for what little water we had left.

I stepped forward and saw in the barest light the pool before me - little laps of gleaming sapphires strewn on the lucid azure - and to the north-west the magnificent waterfall, crashing into the miniature lake with a mystical profundity, and rising in a cool fog that nudged invitingly at every single one of my senses. The single beam of light that shone down from a lone crack in the ceiling painted the scene with strokes of highlight pale-gold, and caught in the ever-moving mist as a multitude of fractured prisms and distorted rainbows..

I stood there lulled. It was astounding, and I was glad to my very bones that I was the only one who knew of it. If I had any choice, it would certainly remain that way.

-------------------

So it has been this way for a multitude of millennia - the oceans have been long departed since the brotherhood Humanity tore apart the skies, and the earth lies barren and red beneath the scorching sun we are all now exposed to. The H. Sapiens of Old Earth either died with most of the other species on planet, or fled to their makeshift cities, hastily establishing what they thought were reliable water supplies and food stores. Well, they could dream it would be so easy.. They prospered for a while, thinking their selves quite smart for overcoming such hard times. And then they began to panic.

This took a while mind, and meanwhile the world had evolved around them. The few creatures that survived were mostly of the reptilian sorts, as well as weather hardy mammals, arachnids, and the insect hoards that continuously multiplied in their thousands. The swarms finished off most of the remaining plant life, and then they too died when that was gone, and they left the skies to the birds, who for the most part had coped amazingly well. Whilst many species died out completely, others thrived in ways unimaginable, and persevered as nature took its toll.. as it is wont to do. The two most remarkable specimens we have of that: equines and avians.

They grew thick and they grew tall, and no-one truly understood how they managed to adapt so quickly to the hostile conditions but anyways - they did it with panache. Many birds became tall as men, most notably the raptors, whose wings spanned tens of metres, adept at catching the hot air that the baked earth was now so able to provide. They hunted deer - who had become lither and scrawnier like their cousin gazelle - which could be taken down in one fell swoop, much like the mice the birds of prey from millennia ago had hunted so distantly. They hunted goat and cattle, and occasionally even bison. And though constantly moving on to bigger, more challenging prey, they never hunted the horse, for the horse was an equal adversary.

Unlike the deer the horse had grown thicker and stronger, and whilst able to support their selves for weeks without substantial amounts of nutrition they expended energy by the crateful, galloping along the dead prairie in their fifty-strong herds. The tame horses dwindled to scrawny receptacles barely fit for desert wandering, and the few that escaped into the wild found their place with the mustang, who multiplied to never seen before numbers, and grew strong and resourceful like their newfound brothers. The horses stood taller than even that of the forgotten shire horse, and thicker around - built like a bull in the neck. Their muzzles were refined but heavier, adapted to digging in the hard dirt for the scarce vegetation. Their ears and sense of hearing became further-more acute, tuned to the skies and capable of detecting the rustling of feathers from a hundred metres off, for the larger birds were their only enemy. Their ebony chestnut tails cracked like whips behind powerful loins and cinnamon manes furled like wild fire, and they were a thing of majesty to behold, much like their ancestors, but respected now for other reasons.

For they are fearful, respected warriors.

Where their hooves now glint like steel; their wise, calculating brains are the real threat - ensuring no humans will ever cross them again. Huge herds of these wild horses live on the plains, sentient and evolved to survive. They are much smarter than tamed horses, who submitted their wits and wild spirit foolishly to the humans. The mustang do not necessarily dislike the humans in the cities, much smarter than most people they judge on individual character alone. They harbour a forceful confidence and intelligence, and ride only with humans who respect their freedom and knowledge of the land. And they know the Earth better than anyone now, for everything the humans knew and chartered was lost.

From pole to pole stretches nothing but dirt and desert, and those humans that dare to venture out often never come back. To explore the great fissures that used to lie beneath billions of litres of ocean is a harrowing task; the many animals building new homes in the dried out corals and shipwrecks are hugely defensive - the earth has become fiercer in its turning, and territory is everything.

Whilst all this happened, the feeble cities of yore evolved too, and now they stand there magnificent on many a horizon, their gleaming white walls a barricade from the sun and stark against the desolate crimson lands. Their perimeters house gardens, were the rare commodity of humus, soil and wet earth is worked upon to provide food for the thousands. Cattle have been salvaged and now live purely in the slaughter houses, were they are born, bred and put to death in rapid cycles that echo from days forgotten. The slurry that is the swill of the pigs consists mostly of the leftovers of their sisters and brothers (generally those who died before them) - and they grow fat, unknowing cannibals, and are appropriately given the term ‘recycled meat’.

The humans work in their cities, for the most part resigned to the fact that they will live in that one place for the entirety of their lives. Few venture out as travellers and traders; others are hired mercenaries - scouting for water; others are shipped involuntarily as low-documented trade between the cities - a hush-hushed government movement that prevents inbreeding within the isolated cities - the ‘stock’ selected on terms of submissive character and diverse race, the consequence of disclosing their truth is their family’s lives.

The children learn their altered history in the schools, which stand huge and singular in each city. When they are grown, the lucky ones go on to feed the religious, educative or marketing sector of the economy. Most become working class miners, sent out in their thousands to drudge into the underground chambers and tunnels - spending their days and lives mining in the near dark for fresh water, the fewest of the number being mildly successful in their life’s attempts.

Water is mostly produced in factories, with little human input required; and the rest is found underground and transported via pipelines. But this can not support the growing population - a cold hard fact which the government even now keeps under wraps. And so a propaganda regime is spawned, and the majority of school graduates go straight into the military, and to war with neighbouring countries. Still they fight for the water supply each city possesses, for each citizen is told the lies that the other is evil and would not hesitate to kill their children in their sleep, if they even got half the chance.

The military hijack tankers and scouts, destroy pipelines and water supplies and unsuspecting civilians with utter recklessness, as is the way of war. And when it comes to it, they will deploy the high explosives and missiles, and all hell will break loose in the city of Eskerethia.

-----------

As they fight, a separate race of humans thrive outside the high city walls, and view their brothers from outside the fortresses. They are the humans who learnt to live off the land, travelling at night, and camping in little alcoves and ridges of old sea beds and land formations in the hottest part of the day. They travel constantly - wanderers - looking for water. And they are the few who can actually find it.

Seirban, a small, lean red-skinned human (eyes terracotta and dark-brown hair), is one of these said people, and he currently lives on what used to be grassland, though it is now dried up with the occasional grassy plain down in the valley. The trees that grow are tall and spindly - higher than redwoods, but much frailer. He found his two companions here, Zephyr the Great Hawk and Yhjang his mustang steed, and does not wish to part from them, so abides mostly by their ways. Gerbils and hare are abundant in his valley, but most importantly this is where the horses run free, and the eagles fly.

Humans even ride them sometimes, such as Seirban and others from the tribe. The only humans who can do so are those who tune into the animals sense and spirit, those who listen. Whilst the countries fight over water, warring, destroying each other’s supplies (factories and pipelines) and attempting to wipe each other out, Seirban and his people, who are few and rarely together, travel the land, following their wise companions the birds and horses to water holes that are littered across the land. These take form in huge sinkholes and gaping chasms, underground lakes and springs. And each and every one is kept secret.

Stood on the valley brink Seirban watches the missiles fly over, like low flying shooting stars. He can see the pinpoint precision of the missiles as they tip-touch the school, the parliament, and the water factory. He turns away as the night is lit with the searing blaze at the crest of the valley’s tip. He knows he is the only of his tribe in this area - the desert people mostly live just beyond the distant reaches of the city and rarely venture closer on fear of detection and death. And whilst Seirban turns away, high above upon one of the high trees of the plains Zephyr the hawk watches, and observes the short trickle of people streaming down from the wreckage in the city.

A scant hundred of the sacrificed masses escape the destruction, with little belongings and no experience of the open lands. Many long arduous days pass, and Seirban observes from the horizon or the air, with mounting guilt growing within him. Each day he comes back fewer remain, yet something keeps him from helping them. Finally, when only a handful of the city dwellers survive after a week of the heat and lack of water, Seirban approaches, his intrigue and pity overcoming his fear and trepidation. He meets the people, and gives them a little of his food and liquid. Zephyr flew to fetch the rest of the tribe, and Seirban leads the others to the edge of the valley, where they will meet his people far from the city. Some are reluctant to follow, others say they have no choice with no city to go back to after all. Some want to kill Seirban, their prejudice overwhelming.. Yet he keeps leading them on.

In the frustration of helplessness and hate, an attempt on Seirban’s life is made, a mere two nights in. Seirban grapples with the man who attacks him, and only when Yhjang rushes over is the fight ended, and brutally so - the man crushed beneath Yhjang’s hooves. Seirban goes to bury the man they knew briefly and uncertainly as ‘Judein’, stripping him of his garments to pass them onto the others, many of whom have very few belongings or clothing. Upon the man he finds a tattoo, one that mirrors the own one on his right shoulder: the mark of the Seiyen tribe, Seirban's own. Confused and bewildered, he continues on to find his people.

When they meet the tribe, a turn of events occurs. Seirban’s fellows have a split mind about what to do with the refugees, and call a council meeting - eventually concluding that they must join the clan, having no other choice than to be put to death. No neighbouring city would take them - they would be executed upon passing through the gates. And to leave them in the desert would not be mercy..

The RPGer may choose a city refugee or a marked Seiyen tribesman - and either one can be chosen to possess the slipstream ability. Slipstream is where the person joins minds with the steed - they travel as one, the human barely noticed on the back of the animal, moving in flawless synchronicity. The riders almost dissociate into air, streamline and featherweight. Riders must be both fluent in this and natural riding, and so the new clan members are enrolled in training. The horses and birds choose their riders, respectively, if they think it wise - some completely refuse. Some make foolish mistakes. Many of the humans are not at all happy about being reduced to living with the animals that they fear. The horses are great warriors, and the birds could kill them in seconds. The refugees make the idiotic mistake of suspecting the animals of having a human capacity for malice and betrayal, and misjudge them, suffering for doing so, and many not taking steeds.

The humans that learn and travel with the tribe are initiated into the clan, and become one with them in a night ceremony. From then on they are family, and vow not to look back. This becomes difficult though, as events progress..

The Highers of the tribe have investigated the death of the refugee who tried to kill Seirban, and have indeed declared him a clansman. They do not understand why he would attempt to kill him, or why he was even in the city in the first place. Whilst it is not unknown for an outsider to be inside the city, it seems he was there for a prolonged period, which is most uncommon for the tribesmans’s fear of detection and consequential introduction to the gallows.

This inevitable intrigue and mystery leads them back to the city of Eskerethia, which now lays in singed ruin. Members of the Seiyen tribe, Seirban and the refugees - the steed-attributed ones who can lead them through the city safely and knowingly - leave for Eskerethia, the streets of which are now heavily infiltrated by police of the attacking city, as their people claim it for their selves.

Unknowing of where it will lead them they investigate the home and workplace of Judein, not suspecting that it will take them on a trail to find the real reason of the drought that emptied the oceans and ruined their ancestors.

[Etc: They find that the city Eskerethia was previously infiltrated by members of the Seiyen tribe, unknown to most of its members, and it is revealed that a conspiracy runs throughout, and hence suspicion is cast in every which-way-direction. Eventually it seems the only people Seirban can trust are the refugees, yet below the streets of the city a rebellion rises, aiming to strike back at the bombing country in a retaliatory motion, and some of those newly initiated into the clan may be drawn back to their people..

Players can be of the betrayal or the tribe or the city, or of a more particular role if they so desire, such as that of a equine, avian or government representative, for example.

Eventually they discover the real reason for the earth’s condition, and that it was intentional, but this is not the end. In this state, it is conclusive that it is reversible.. And only the tribe’s warriors are capable of this, with aid from the City refugees (for they know technological things that tribe people are mostly ignorant to) and a chosen few from the tribe. The warriors are knights, and they are truly fearsome, in their shazzamming rogue knight armour and with their huge steeds. Together they ride to uncover history, caught in the war between two cities..]


I don't know if this makes sense in the slightest, but oh well. Guideline used = War. What is it good for..? Absolutely nothin.. huh!

[SuperSonicMewtwo]

Alan's Symphony

"It is during the finale when a song is most powerful." -Alan Kwaikowski

For over 200 years, the countries of Bellicoso and Tremendo have been at war. Large and powerful nations in terms of land, economics, and military might, Bellicoso and Tremendo's conflict has drawn the entire planet into war and chaos. Children are raised to feel hatred toward the opposition. Men and women alike are drafted upon reaching adulthood, so that they may be properly trained in the art of modern warfare. It is a daily and integral part of every life in Bellicoso and Tremendo, this war, for it has gone on longer than anyone can remember.

The two countries are, oddly, very similar. The battle is known to the Bellicosens as the Deceptive Cadence, and to the Tremendese as the Continuo, both phrases that have musical connotation relating to something ongoing. Both Bellicoso and Tremendo are highly advanced in technology, self-sufficient, proud, and with the oddest similarity of them all, musical. Music is at the heart of every resident of Bellicoso and Tremendo. Gospel, symphonic, metal, blues, baroque, and the list goes on. Each country has held the instrumentation of music so close to its core, that music has invaded nearly everything. Including the war.

The most common, and often, the most destructive weapons on the battlefield are augmented musical instruments or voicing. It is entirely common to see a battalion of Sousaphone players, each carrying a modified form of the brass instrument, fit with anything ranging from rocket propelled grenades to semi-automatic rifles. Flutes, designed to fire tranquilizer. String basses, built large enough that a single strum of a string can cause directional quaking of the earth. Snare drums, mounted upon torpedo launches, firing with every strike of a drum stick.

The children of Bellicoso and Tremendo are encouraged to start being musical at the age of 4, so that by the time they reach the battlefield, they are highly efficient with their talents. Some choose to augment their instruments with the latest military gear, while others, whether they be vocalists or more instrumentalists, develop an extensive knowledge of the physics of sound. Saxophonists, pushing into the highest of altissimo, to burst an enemy's blood vessels. Soprano vocalists, enhanced with megaphones, singing half-steps or even cents off from each other, creating a bone chilling clash of frequencies.

As the war has been going on for some time, there are now two views among the new combatants of the war. The first and foremost is a full commitment to fighting against Tremendo or Bellicoso, as shared by many older adults of the countries. Some of the draftees, however, are starting to question the reason of fighting. No reason is genuinely apparent, other than unconditional hatred for the opposing country. But that is not quite the suitable answer for questioning youths.

You have recently been drafted into the military of either Tremendo or Bellicoso. After completing your basic training, you now attend a ceremony with all the other trainees from your region. You've been seated in a large room filled with new soldiers, with a panel of generals at the front of the room, and you are being briefed on your future assignments. You feel a little uneasy about the idea of this being the reality; you will soon head into battle, and be leaving behind everything you have known. You are given no time to feel anxious, however, for one soldier raises his arm and stands.

“Excuse me, sir, but what are we fighting for?” The staff of generals are confused. One stands up, grabs a microphone, and addresses the soldier.

“For Alan's Symphony. We fight to defeat the enemy, so that they will not gain Alan Kwaikowski's Symphony.”

Alan Kwaikowski is known to the world as the greatest composer who ever lived. Every child in Bellicoso and Tremendo is taught of Alan, as though he were the country's greatest star. But this is the first time anyone seems to have mentioned to you or you friends that Alan has anything to do with this war. Really, other than the fact that he mysteriously disappeared about 200 years ago, there is really no correlation.

Unless...

You remember a story from when you first began your music education. One about Alan Kwaikowski. That he wrote an incredible symphony with all sorts of chord changes, harmonic sequences, and fantastic riffs. But that the finale of the song was never debuted. It would be too great. The power of the finale was so strong, that Alan had decided to hide the music, and keep it a secret from others.

Could this symphony, and the symphony the general spoke of, be the same?

You get no more time to think; messengers are being dispersed amongst the new soldiers. You are designated to meet on the east side of the base tomorrow at 0800 hours. Here, you will be placed into the final group of soldiers, the ones you will be fighting with for years to come. Will you know anyone in your group? What will the fighting be like? Will your musical skill pale in comparison to others' fighting ability? You'll find out soon. For now, you sleep on it.

Players have the chance to sign up as a new soldier entering the war from either Tremendo or Bellicoso. They can be skilled in the using an instrument or their voice in order to perform sound-oriented attacks of their choosing, or to carry modified instruments of destruction. No musical background is required to participate, but a knowledge of music can help make the RPG all the more interesting! Men and women are equal on the battlefield, and all participants are of the age of the draft, 18. A soldier can be either supportive of the war effort, against the war, or undecided on their view.

Where I’d like to take this RPG:

Should this game be RPed, I would plan that characters are split up into their two respective countries. Both countries would get the chance to get to know their fellow soldiers and have a minor battle or two before coming in contact with each other’s infantry. Mishaps and misguidance from military leaders would force all of the new soldiers away from their groups. A need to survive would prevail at least temporarily, and characters would work together to survive. Bellicosens and Tremendese would get the chance to talk and learn about each other. The prevailing similarities, especially those involving Alan Kwaikowski, would send the group to search some of the smaller countries of the world on their own, trying to find out information on Alan’s Symphony. Tensions should remain high, for people of different political views are forced to work with each other, and it is possible to have traitors rat the group out, resulting in hiding from both Bellicoso and Tremendo.
Eventually, the group would learn enough about Alan’s Symphony to realize they cannot let it get into the hands of either of the major factions of the world war, and that they must find and obtain it themselves in order to keep chaos from taking over and destroying the planet. Alan’s Symphony can save, or destroy.

Guidelines:
7. No Playing Character possesses extraordinary abilities
-While characters are given the option of using skill with music and sound waves to hurt opponents, this is not extraordinary in the world of Alan’s Symphony, but normal and common, simply requiring a cross between years of training, and the understanding and advanced technology of a futuristic world. I have personal experience with painfully crossed pitches and frequencies, and it can very much disable a person.

[Plantae]

I thank you all for your entries. I have already started the judging process and should hopefully finish by today's end. I can say nothing of how long it will take our other judges, however. I will send judge comments to everyone unless you do not wish to receive them and will post the scores up once judging is complete.

Master Rudy: you are now disqualified.

Update: I am finished with my scores. Comments have been sent.

[Bear]

I'm going to be out of town until late Tuesday, so (if I make it) please do not make the next deadline before then. Thanks alot!

[SuperSonicMewtwo]

lol, i think we should assume that whatever date Plantae is finished with judging will be at least a week before scores are put up. jk, but c'mon, my impatient X-Gene is tingling! SSM SMASH! WANT SCORES, DESSERTS, AND LIFETIME SUPPLY OF SPAGHETTI!!!

[Sheila Rae]

lol, i think we should assume that whatever date Plantae is finished with judging will be at least a week before scores are put up. jk, but c'mon, my impatient X-Gene is tingling! SSM SMASH! WANT SCORES, DESSERTS, AND LIFETIME SUPPLY OF SPAGHETTI!!!

Indeed, those are three very good things. ^_^;

[Bear]

I'd prefer deserts thanks. I like mine Gobi style!

[Plantae]

Scores for Round 2 are now up! Round 3 will be up soon.

SCORES
First place is a tie this round, between - Weasel Overlord
Creativity - 14/15
Requirements - 9/10
Linguistics - 13.5/15
Entertainment Level - 3/5
Total - 39.5/45

And Vulpix.ck
Creativity - 13/15
Requirements - 9/10
Linguistics - 14/15
Entertainment Level - 3.5/5
Total - 39.5/45

In second this round is - Bear
Creativity - 13/15
Requirements - 9/10
Linguistics - 11/15
Entertainment Level - 4/5
Total - 37/45

Third is a tie this round, between - Sheila Rae
Creativity - 12.5/15
Requirements - 9/10
Linguistics - 11/15
Entertainment Level - 3.5/5
Total - 36/45

And SuperSonicMewtwo
Creativity - 11.75/15
Requirements - 8.5/10
Linguistics - 12/15
Entertainment Level - 3.75/5
Total - 36/45

4. Ace64
Creativity - 11/15
Requirements - 9/10
Linguistics - 11/15
Entertainment Level - 2.75/5
Total - 33.75/45

5. Asilynne
Creativity - 9.5/15
Requirements - 6.25/10
Linguistics - 11/15
Entertainment Level - 3.25/5
Total - 30/45

COMPOSITE SCORES (Out of 90)
1st place - Vulpix.ck - 80.5 pts.
2nd place - Weasel Overlord - 78.5 pts.
3rd place - Sheila Rae - 73.5 pts.
4th - Ace64 - 69.75 pts.
5th - SuperSonicMewtwo - 66 pts.
6th - Asilynne - 64.5 pts.
7th - Bear - 63 pts.

[SuperSonicMewtwo]

*grabs some of the free cake* I don't remember reading if anywhere it is said how many rounds there are, so I hope there are enough more for us to really start working at racking the points in!

*sits with cake and waits for round 3*

[Roy Karrde]

After two hours of hard work, Plantae and I have made the next round. And yes Plantae and I work together on each round, just for everyone who think that I don't work on this. XP

Edit: Noting the new question in FAQ

[Ace64]

I believe I'm going to have to drop out of this competition. College preparations and orientations are keeping me busy, and I've simply got to many things to write, to start creating a good scenario. I'm busy now, but I know I'll be even busier later, and if there are more rounds after this...Well. Best of luck to everyone else though. I'll try again next time.

[Plantae]

It was a pleasure having you for the two rounds we did, in any case; you have a respectable writing talent. I understand your situation in its entirety and wish you the best in your college career. We will be glad to see you participate in the next tournament.