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Pandemonium

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About Pandemonium

  • Birthday 03/27/1985

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    Just another lost soul walkin' down that road called life. Yay.
  • Occupation
    Walkin' down that strange collegiate road.

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  1. [COLOR=DarkRed][SIZE=1][B]Name: [/B] Unknown. Well, the Man probably knows it... [B]AKA: [/B] (The) Adonis [B]Age:[/B] 22 [B]Gender:[/B] Eheh... it? Some people think girl, some guy. Usually he'll go by the term 'he', but enjoys confusing people. Whether or not 'he' really is a he in the... biological defintion... No one knows. Or if they do, they aren't telling. Why? Probably because they are either sworn not to... or can't. [B]Appearance:[/B] [URL=http://hyung-taekim.org/displayimage.php?pid=468&fullsize=1]Adonis.[/URL] He like to wear rather outrageous outfits like the one in the picture, but you'll usually see him in a tastefull suit of some interesting color or another. He loves silk. [B]Personality: [/B] Adonis could much be compared to silk in existance. Exceedingly charismatic, he is a social genius, playing people as an expert would play at chess. However, in general he is far from malicious in action and usually intent; surprisingly not the con-man he could very easily and sucessfully be. Excellent with words, he is very good at talking, whether he wants to say anything or not depends on the situation, but he comes off as very sincere, even if what he says is not. Always the optimist, he has a cool playfulness about him, though strangely manages to keep people at a distance. Stressful situations seem to leave him unfazed and always laid-back. So laid back that it often gets on peoples nerves, or perhaps just makes them a little nervous. He's a ladies' man. And a man's man. He loves making friends and hates making enemies, though in this buisness, that is usually far from what actually happens. Still, he is known for his respect towards all others, some more than others, and his submissive dignity. Despite his youth, those with close dealings beg to differ that his years contrast sharply with his age. Perhaps Enigma would have been a better alias. But the one thing Adnois adores above almost anything else is beauty in all its forms, including the beauty of the kill. [B]Biography:[/B] Life was not always lived for beauty for Adonis, though hardly anyone knows his true story before he met "him". His father left his mother at a young age, and his mother quickly fell into debt, and also into drug use. She couldn't hold a job as her addictions got worse; to alcohol, to narcotics, to just escaping her life and reality. No one would hire a 9 year old boy (or was it a girl?) trying to get some money to feed himself and his junkie mother. But there were enough people that would pay for his... services. His mother was the one to get his first 'customer'. It was some rich guy over the age of 50 who just happened to like children. "Go on with the nice man." Were his mother's slurred words, laced with false comfort. "He'll take good care of you, my baby, my baby. He'll take good care of you." Good care. At least the man had cleaned him up afterwards. Most after that didn't even bother. At the age of 10, there was a 'client' who refused to pay until he fullfilled some 'special orders'. There had been a lot of men, and women, who had pretty sick tastes, but Adonis had never been told to do what this man told him. He said no. The man beat him. It wasn't uncommon, but it still hurt. He still said no. That's when the man took out a gun and pointed it right between Adonis' eyes. He said no. The man shot once into the wall. Adonis screamed no. His mother ran in, and he watched the blood suddenly blossom from her cheek that wasn't there any more like a rose blooming in fast-motion. The rest of her seemed to move in slow motion as her body bounced against the floor, staining the dingy carpet crimson. And the smell. The man turned back to him, his thick gold chain swinging, gun pointed at the feminine boy. Adonis lept at him, grabbing the chain around his neck and twisting around, curling the chain over on itself. The thick, expensive gold plated links refused to break, and the child hung on long after the man had ceased to breathe. He didn't notice the bullet hole in his leg, and didn't feel himself bleeding out onto the corpse, his blood mixing with the crimson and gray already spattered over the floor. It wasn't until later that he learned that someone had called the cops, and they had called the paramedics. The man and woman were dead on site, but they managed to revive the child and keep him stable once in the hospital. Adonis doesn't know why, or how "he" found out about the little child who strangled a mob boss who killed his mother and raped him, but by the end of the month, Adonis was in "his" care, and has been ever since. He grew up well, despite the predictions that he might have sustained too large of a psychologial shock. He was taught in the best schools from then on, trained by the best teachers. His old life was almost nothing more than a nightmare. He never worked much as a true mercenary for "him", but was uncannily sucessful in human relations, buisness deals, transactions; anything that happened in the social world was his playground. He won clients, job offers, employees, and financial backers. Negotiations, treaties, and meetings were settled with his words, and information gathered in his interrogations (which were either very plesant... or very unpleasant). The underworld part of the buiness doesn't appeal to him quite as much, which is why he never took many target 'jobs'. However, he is in no way a passifist. His interrogations show as much, as did the few missions he undertook. He always had a strong liking for Yamato, in almost a brotherly fashion. He is closest to her. Though younger than her, he acted almost like a big brother, including a bit of sibling rivalry when he first entered into the "family". Both older now, he still sees her as his own sister, and tries to look out for her, or at least watch her. Her emptiness makes him sad, and he hopes that someone someday might fill it. Adonis love chatting with Sidearm. Of course, he likes talking with anyone, and most like to talk to him, some in smaller doses than others. The only person that he shows an outward dislike for is Ronin, though he would never say he didn't consider the man a friend, despite what the other might agree on. Another person that Adonis was particularly close to, was "her". He always got along with both "her" and Vince. He was quite disheartened when he found out about "her" last job, as it turned out to be. He doesn't really want to fight her, but knew that he would not be able to leave "him", who has done so much for him, been so kind. He hopes to take a neutral standpoint when the inevitable happens... but he also knows that here, it is inevitably impossible for 'neutral' to exist. [B]Weapon: [/B] Adonis is very good with his hands. This is true in many ways. And ironically enough, it attributes to his personal style of combat. Socially his body is hs most powerful weapon. Physcially, while he is fair with just using fists and feet (and legs, and arms, and... other things) and is trained in ju-jitsu, his favored and most proficient style is that of the kusaribuki, or chain weapons. Adonis owns various chains that he uses, and can make a weapon out of more mundane things as well, but his weapon of choice is the kusari gama, which is basically a sickle connected to a weighted chain. ((I can find pics of this stuff if needed.)) A stylized wakazashi also often adorns his hip for more close combat. Adonis isn't a huge fan of guns, but he also sometimes carries an HK USP .45 Tactical pistol that also has a silencer, just in case. He doesn't use it or even carry it often, unless he expects to be using it. His ablities of eye-hand corrdination and accuracy also make him an excellent shot. A few of his jobs have consisted of sniping, but unless the person he is fighting against insists on using firearms, he won't usually draw his. [B]Alliance: [/B] Nanashi X[/SIZE][/COLOR]
  2. [COLOR=DarkRed][SIZE=1]I hope that this hasn't died! It really looked like so much fun and with all the players and characters had some awesome potential. I just wanted to... poke... the... um... board, just to see if we're still alive, though I know Patronus is still having internet problems(?) Anyways... I'll just... run away now.[/SIZE][/COLOR]
  3. [SIZE=1][COLOR=DarkSlateGray]Sabyll snorted. This man, this thing, had been following her since the last town. Ever since she had left the last inn of that town, and the cold man in her room's bed. Yes, the Hunger had been strong last night. She had been working long and hard to suppress it further, to gain control, and she was pleased with her success. But her Need remained, and when that coupled with starved Hunger... Well, at least the man had enjoyed the best night of his life; it was his last. Twilight gray cloak pulled up around her shoulders, the cross breed had left, tipping the inn keeper slightly - it was never nice to leave a mess without some compensation. At first, she took no notice of the great winged figure that left the establishment after her. Not until after taking multiple side roads, he was still following her, albeit he had distanced himself from her as the time had passed. He was quiet magnificent: great dove-white wings that were tucked back softly against broad, strong shoulders. His hair was like spun gold, long and tied loosely with a leather thong at the end near his waist. Sharp cerulean blue orbs set within sharp angular features seemed to pierce holes in her back as she headed towards the next town. She had originally planned on going to a larger place, but now... smaller seemed like a wiser choice. What she couldn't figure out, was why this exquisite specimen was tracking her. That metalworker Byrron couldn't have finally gotten up the courage to send someone after her; he was devoted to her, even now probably. He was the only of these Draconian creatures she had ever met though, so she kept it a possibility. The scorns of love could indeed burn long and hard. It was near dusk by the time she, or rather, they, arrived at the next village. She didn't even know the name of the place, but it only had a few houses, a meeting hall, and one inn. If Byrron had sent the Draconian, or if not... it wouldn?t matter soon enough. Stepping into the inn, she breathed in the stuffy, alcohol-laden air, thick with the heat of bodies and their many, many functions. Ah, the smell of humanity. There was a bar and a few tables in the front of the one floor establishment. She moved to sit at the bar, drawing her cloak around her as she sat. There were eyes following her from the moment she stepped in, of course. Mostly slightly intoxicated men who didn?t want to go home to their nagging wives, a few bachelors, some travelers, and boys who wished they were men. A few women also watched the being as she sat ? always interesting how so many people denied themselves of what they desired. She ordered a room for one night and a glass of sweet ale. A few moments passed before the large, wrinkled woman who had taken her order returned. ?Compliments of that...er... gentleman o?er there, little lady.? She gestured over towards a table near the door. The Draconian smiled, raising his glass to Sabyll. His wings were tucked gracefully over the low-backed chair he sat in, though his presence seemed almost too big for the room, let alone the table he sat at. ?Aren?t you a lucky one, heh... Ain?t seen a Draconian man in... well, too long.? The old woman chuckled. ?Pretty catch ye got, I?d say. As long as he?s good to ye!? Oh yes... A very nice catch indeed. ?I?m sure he will be...? Sabyll returned with a polite smile. Wagging her finger, the bartender let out a sharp laugh before turning back to her work, talking to herself about ?the young ones? these days. ?May I join you?? Tucking a few snowy locks behind her ear, the dark-skinned creature looked over her shoulder to the Draconian, dark caramel eyes meeting striking blue. She hadn?t even heard him move. Still, her lips curled softly upwards and she nodded. ?Of course.? The male lowered himself onto a stood beside her, setting his glass of dark colored alcohol on the bar top. ?You?ve been following me.? ?Yes.? ?Why?? The Draconian smiled, bringing up the glass to his lips. Sabyll did the same. ?Thank you for the drink.? ?My pleasure.? ?What do you want?? He seemed to pause for a moment, as if he wasn?t quite sure on his priorities. Of course, being this close to her would probably do nothing to help that fact. After a few more moments, he frowned. ?To come with me. To Memoria.? Her eyes narrowed at the sound of the proposition. Well, it didn?t sound so much of a proposition... more like a statement of fact. She didn?t like that. ?Why would I wish to go to Memoria?? ?Because you have been called into presence by the court.? Standing, she took a last, long moment to drink before setting it on the bar. ?No thanks.? She said before walking back towards her room. No one was her master, and the will of no other but her own would ever govern her. She didn?t expect a strong, heavy hand to rest upon her shoulder, nor did she expect the sudden force it uses to wheel her around and slam her back up against a wall. One of her hands instantly produced a long, curved dagger and she swept it out in an arc, black metal singing through the dimly lit hall. The Draconian recoiled with a grunt, a thin red line appearing over his left cheek up to his temple. Crimson trails leaked slowly from it, and the male brought one finger up to it, wiping away the longest line and touching his stained finger to his lip, slipping it inside his mouth. A second blade was in Sabyll?s other hand, and she crouched slightly against the wall. Immediately, her lithe body seemed to begin to melt backwards into the wall and its many shadows from flickering candlelight around them. A soft chuckle escaped her lips, smooth and dark, like black satin. It was short lived as the Draconian suddenly moved forward, grabbing her still exposed shoulder. He blocked another strike at the wrist with his forearm, and grabbed the offending arm. He jerked her forward, but she slipped a leg around one of his, catching him off balance as she used his body for leverage to swing around him. She moved like water over rock, graceful and powerful in her own right. Wings suddenly blocked her way, stretching out long and white, almost seeming to glow against the dark of the space around them. She stumbled back, and the Draconian moved forward, catching both her arms and pushing them above her head as he trapped her with his body. Neither of them expected the sudden rise of her Hunger. Adrenaline from battle almost instantly changed its flow towards other ends. The Succubus didn?t fight against the Hunger, allowing the Need to couple with it, letting it feed off itself and spread. The Draconian?s eyes fluttered, a shred of resistance shimmering somewhere deep azure orbs. But, he was a male, after all... oh yes, definitely a male... No warrior?s training could defend against the desires of the body ? if anything it made them stronger. Sabyll?s back arched as she leaned up towards him and the shred was torn away, left to the care of hot rising winds. At least the door to the room was not too far off... _____________________________ The woman awoke to the feeling of strong, warm arms encircling her. Most pleasant. The accompanying winds that rushed around them both, running playful fingers back through her starlight hair, was not pleasant. Not in the least. Sunlight stung at her eyes. It seemed to be so much closer than usual. The Draconian was looking out and forward, expression a strange cross of slightly angered determination and blissful freedom. His wings spread out mightily above them, catching the currents. They were flying. ?Squirming would be advised against.? The Draconian said matter-of-factly, a hint of a smirk playing over his lips. Sabyll stared. She never awoke after those that she fed from. It was almost mid-day, judging by the sun! She suddenly hissed, ?The drink. Damned Draconian.? Her hands moved to find her weapons. ?I have my orders, but if you fight back at this point, no blame will come to me for dropping you.? He looked down at her, eyes shinning with what might be called amusement. ?Tis a long way to fall, my lady.? Snorting, she did not bother to look down, arms crossing over her chest. So *now* it was ?my lady?. Men. Ah well... what was done was done. Looking down, she saw the very last of the land that she had ever traveled upon. Memoria, was it... With a name such as that, there was bound to be nothing but trouble. Sabyll suspected she could deal with that. It was probably inevitable; obviously he had been prepared for what he was going to find in facing her. But still, that made her wonder... Smirking, she shook her head, eyes slowly looking him over again, unabashedly. ?There was a reason they picked you, wasn?t there.? The Draconian laughed. [I](Wow... that sucked. Sorry it took so long. U_U ) [/I] [/COLOR][/SIZE]
  4. [SIZE=1][COLOR=DarkRed]O.o I'd like to appologize too, I [I]am[/I] actually working on my post, but I just got back up to school and already need another break. >.< And... I think I'm getting sick, heh. But my post will be up by the end of this week, or hopefully by mid-week. Also, I had one question, would a character [I]know[/I] if they were one of the Innocence, themselves, if they never checked for this 'mark' or didn't know anything about it? Yus... off to work now. Joy.[/COLOR][/SIZE]
  5. [SIZE=1][B]Name:[/B] Sabylleria, Sabyll (prounounced Sable) for short. [B]Age:[/B] She looks to be in her mid-twenties... [B]Race:[/B] Succubus/Nymph (Will be fully explained in her Bio, lemme know if it needs to be changed.) [B]Location:[/B] Victoria [B]Appearance:[/B] [URL=http://hyung-taekim.org/displayimage.php?pid=89&fullsize=1]Sabyll (clicky!)[/URL] is about 5'7''. She dresses a bit more conservatively (sometimes) when she is to go into highly populated areas. [B]Weapons/Skills:[/B] Never being much for brutish strength, Sabyll?s weapon of choice other than her own body is a collection of throwing knives. Made from a dark metal infused with shadow ? she acquired them in a short tryst from a Draconian metalworker designed them for her after he ?fell in love? with her during his travels through Victoria. In exchange she spared his life when she felt the need to move on to other... exploits. She has ten 6?? blades and four 4?? blades, all of which are beautifully curved and formed with a ring on the top. Using this ring, she can string them together to make a kind of blade whip. They also, of course, can be thrown, or held for close combat. Poison can be applied to the edges, which remain unnaturally sharp, if she chooses. Shadowborne ? She becomes one with the darkness she was born from, and through it can travel through places that may have been harder or impossible to travel through otherwise, and can also affect some small inanimate objects through their shadows. She has yet to master the ability to touch larger objects or others through their shadows. Illusionary ? Besides her Succubus race?s abilities of seductive allure and persuasion, and the Nymph?s curious and mysterious appeal, Sabyll also possesses the ability to weave illusions that ranges outside the normal skills of those who hunt or those who play. Images so sharp and real that they appeal to all the senses, she can create almost anything she can think of, including disguises for herself. Usually this takes much time and energy to weave as changing one?s appearance, even if only an illusion, takes extreme precision and delicacy. Even the smallest flaw can reveal the truth to another?s sight. Smaller changes, such as clothes or the color of her eyes takes far less energy, but the more complex any illusion is, the longer and harder it is to complete and maintain, though it is a skill that she prizes as her longest practiced and best learned. EbonSoul ? Allows her to create darkness and form it to her will. She uses this at times when she links her daggers together or even at times to ?poison? her daggers, as the darkness works like a drug in most being?s systems. It can also be used in a defensive manner to create a complete darkness over an area that most torches are hard pressed to light. In its purest form it is a thing so dark and frigid it is said to burn the soul: Pure Darkness. It allows her to manipulate the darkness as a tangible substance. It can be used in tandem with her Illusions spell to give true weight and mass to what she creates. It slows and sometimes paralyzes, and some creatures have very violent reactions. Almost verging on Black Magic, it is her most powerful ability, and can be very draining and dangerous if she uses it for too long, or tries to extend it to purpose outside her control ? for the Darkness seems to have a mind of its own, and not even she can always tell what it may do. She does not use it often for this reason, and when she does, if forced to use a caution and discretion she loathes. This is the one thing she strives for complete power over, though she knows that such an endeavor may prove not only impossible, but fatal. [B]Biography:[/B] Sabyll?s conception was one of both mystery and tragedy. Often such a tale is told to frighten the younger Nymphs in their rebellious years from leaving the cove or to venture out into the dangerous world around them ? a world no longer safe for the children of the earth. Her mother, Alywine Brimorne, was a bright Nymph of the Summer, born in the time of the Summer Solstice. Great talent was expected from her, and she was full of the mischievous mirth her race was fabled for. Ever-curious, kind, but with a taste for trouble perhaps a bit more than was considered health, Alywine often ventured out from the sanctuary of her people and into the surrounding forests, and then villages. Always thinking herself careful, she sometimes made brief contact with the inhabitants of the villages. Of course, none ever recognized her (she believed) for what she truly was, and she much enjoyed the conversations she had, the tales she heard, and wondrous information she was given. Strange things of distant lands, and beings, and creatures that she would never have even been able to dream of... Then one night, she was making her way out of the village of Hera and heard a strange noise coming from behind the tavern she just was in. Oh, what a time she had there, a nice lady had taught her some strange dance. She couldn?t wait to share it with some of the others. They would wonder for days where she had picked it up! She could even see the face of ? but there was that sound, and something else, that pulled at her mind. There was a woman, pressed up against the building?s wall, and a man pressed up against her... but it wasn?t really a man. The woman was making soft sounds in the back of her throat as the man kissed along her neck. But something was wrong. The sounds were strange. Alywine couldn?t understand, but being a child of the earth, a creature of magic, she could see the strange aura around the man, the inhuman traits that gave him away as being something very far from human. The ground around him seemed cold, and the woman arching against him seemed to be slowly growing colder and colder... The man was an Incubus, only known of as Raven. He turned, sensing the Nymph as he too was a creature of greater power than mere humans could possess. The two gazes met, and he stepped back from the woman, who only reached after him, whimpering at the sudden lack of his touch. Pulling his cloak around him slightly, he stepped towards the Nymph, who stood confused as to whether she should be captivated with awe, or fear. From there, the Nymph stories go on to tell of the poor Nymph Alywine?s fate: her falling into the devious and malicious clutches of the Incubus and stripped of her innocence. How she was forced to return to him by his power, and to bare his child, a black mark on the pure race. A child born in the dead of winter, on a pitch black night where the moon became dark in a great eclipse. A child born without innocence. The Nymph?s tried to hold tolerance for the child and distraught mother, trying to bring the child up as a full Nymph. But it was not to be. The father would kill the child out of cruel amusement, and the mother would die from shame and sorrow. Thus was the fate to Nymphs who tried to go out into the world. Sabyll, however, believed in a quite different story. She swore that her mother and father fell in love, however odd that might sound. (?A Nymph and an Incubus, in love?? Preposterous!? the Nymphs would say before carrying on in their carefree ways.) Her mother gave birth to her, an abomination in the eyes of the ?innocent? Nymphs. Her father was forbidden to see either his child or the mother, and the mother was locked away within the ?safety? of the cove. The child was to be raised that she was the result of what the world had become: tainted. Her father ventured out to another land to somehow find a way to gain the freedom of his child. Her father never returned, and soon her mother died from the sorrow. Sabyll ran away soon after that. It was not until she heard the rumors of the Incubus Raven being murdered at the hands of a heartless Mage in the east that she truly began to believe what she holds in her heart as Truth (along with her vow of vengeance for her father?s death), about the world, about everything. [B]?No one is born Innocent.?[/B] She wandered and traveled throughout Victoria, staying in the countryside and in the villages. None bothered her or questioned her identity ? she had come into quite the talent when it came to blending in with the ?normal people?. Her illusion weaving abilities were one of the first she discovered and she concentrated on them to keep her alive in the beginning. She found that she had inherited most of her father?s abilities of persuasion and seduction, as well as part of his need. She can survive on food and water of the earth, but the need, the urge to feed on the energies of the flesh as those of the night do sometimes takes her, and she can do nothing but obey. She would seem to hate her Succubus nature completely, but one might have their doubts when they observe how candidly she uses its powers. Shortly after her development of her father?s nature did she find that her mother too had left her with that which she would need to survive... and perhaps have a bit of fun. Despite her rather grim outlook of the world, her Nymph-like disposition remains a large part of her personality, making for somewhat of a volatile mix at times. Her shadow skills developed quite quickly; those dealing in darkness came to her not as fast but just as readily ? sometimes a bit too much. She possessed none of the attributes of autumn or spring, or even much of those of winter. Only that of night and darkness. She learned and developed as she continued on, sometimes taking the liberty of testing her limits upon others. (Most of them deserved it anyway, of course.) She never lingered too long in a place, like a shadow herself: gone by first light. Lately, however, Sabyll has been feeling... strange. Her dreams are clouded and dark, and her thoughts are filled with shadows thicker than those she has ever traveled through. She remains along the borders or Victoria, sometimes venturing into Memoria, or skirting along the edge of Rivera. Something to clear her mind, to occupy her thoughts away from... whatever it is she feels, pulling at her. She has heard some people speak of this Nexus thing, but gives it little of her concern. After all, what care should she have for this world of empty hopes, this place of shattered dreams and tainted innocence? [I]Hope that's alright. ^_^ Let me know if anything needs to be changed, or if you need an rp sample. Thanks![/I][/SIZE]
  6. [COLOR=DarkRed] Tristan watched the scene with the demon boy unfold for a moment before he moved further into the bookstore. He always loved the smell of books and coffee, and with his heightened senses it was like being surrounded in a warm blanket by them. He had felt the girl bristle slightly as he had entered, but he restained the urge to growl, pursing his lips together. As Sieg ran out of the B&B Solace also took note, her crystalline blue eyes lingering on his slick black wings with interest. A demon... How intriguing. However, he looked quite disturbed - not at all like the high-class demons she had met in her time - and so she did not pursue him. She hadn't gotten her coffee yet, anyways. There was an underlying tension in the air that Tristan couldn't ignore as he moved towards where Mr. Matsuo was. The bell on the door chimed softly and he turned to see the vampiress enter. Immedieately she saw him and nodded. "You didn't go to school today, Solace." he scolded with a smile. "Yes, I know, Mr. Stevens.." she was careful to address him by his last name. To most, she would appear to be a normal human, and even those with... special ablities would be hard pressed to identiy her true nature. Her cheeks were slightly rosy, lips full - not at all the picture of a blood-sucking monster... Tristan sighed, and then looked towards Mr. Matsuo. "Been a bit of a rough day, no?" [/COLOR]
  7. [COLOR=DarkRed] A day like any other day. Like so many days before it had been. Like so many days after it would continue to be. Solace sighed as she looked out the small window of her three room apartment. There were no parents to wake her up in the morning, to scold her for not going to school. No siblings ran through the rooms, no friends came to knock upon her door. [I]Nothing really ever changes, does it?[/I] she thought. She didn't feel like going to that place, that school, today. There were very few good things about it... like the literature... and maybe the writing. The arts had always intrigued her, but she had little time for it back in Europe... It was midday now, and the sun trickled in through the small window like a knife through the shadows. Tristan, or rather, Mr. Stevens, would be upset that she had skipped out on classes again. Solace wrinkled her nose slightly. Putting down the book Inferno, she stretched slightly before heading towards the front door. She wasn't [I]hungry,[/I] but she wanted to drink something warm. Food and drink didn't harm her she had learned a long time ago, and a cappacino was sounding nice. B&B made pretty decent cappacino. As the bell rang, Tristan smiled towards the students waving to him on their way out. He was also a well-liked and appreciated teacher here at the high school, though sometimes he seemed to get a little more popularity from his female students than he liked. Oh well, such things would happen. He couldn't really do anything to stop it, and in a way, it did boost his ego. Not that he had self-confidence problems... News of the principle's daughter had spread quickly through the faculty, and Tristan felt deeply saddened for the man's loss. He didn't have a wife or kids, but he could only imagine what it would be like to loose someone so close. If one of his students were killed like that, he would be crushed... he actually couldn't imagine... what it must be like. He hoped that no one would do anything... rash. But something gave him the sinking feeling that it was too late for that. Slipping on his coat, he buttoned only the top two buttons, collecting the papers he had to grade for tomorrow. He didn't own a car, but he enjoyed walking places so he didn't feel the need to get one. His route home brought him past the B&B, and he noticed that there were others inside... instantly his sense of smell told him few were human. He paused for a moment, hazel eyes narrowing slightly. [I]Might as well... Better than sitting around at home, waiting for the papers to grade themselves...[/I] He went to the shop, pushing the main door open and looking to see who was within. He didn't see Solace walking up the stree from the other direction, also heading towards the B&B. "What's... going on here?" [/COLOR]
  8. ((Ahhh! I hope I'm not too late. This sounds like a lot of fun. Let me know if you need me to change anything!)) [B]Name:[/B] Solace Pedwin [B]Age: [/B] She looks about 18... but she is much older than that. Much... older. [B]Gender:[/B] Female [B]Friend: [/B] Tristan Stevens, male, 29 years old [B]Appearance: [/B] [URL=http://www.northarc.com/images/unsorted/makotosakura.jpg]Solace (clicky!)[/URL] is a touch over 5'7'', with a lithe but supple figure, which she holds with complete grace and poise. She usually allows her long honey-chestnut hair to flow freely down to her waist, though on occasion she puts it up in a pony-tail or some elaborate braiding. Her eyes are a stunning sky blue that seem to lighten an darken depending on her... mood. She dresses nicely, casual skirts and sometimes jeans, blacks, muted reds, soft blues, whites and grays being the majority of the colors in her woredrobe. She usually somehow adds some type of personal touch to her personage, and she always wears a beautiful antique looking black choker with a golden pendant in the center. [URL=http://starry-vortex.net/i/m/a/90.jpg]Tristan (clicky!)[/URL] is a slender but deceptively toned man of about 6'1''. His face always seems to be touched with a hint of quiet sadness, even when he smiles, as if he holds some great weight upon his shoulders always. Dark rusty red hair longer in the front, he keeps his bangs long and the rest cut shorter back. His eyes are a soft hazel brown, though flecks of almost amber-gold can be seen rimming his pupils, like the color you see in the eyes of wild wolves. He seems to wear whatever he pulls out of his closet in the morning, usually sticking to simplicity and layers. He has a favorite brown leather 'detective-style' jacket that he wears almost constantly. He claims it's his fashion statement to the world. [B]Race:[/B] Solace is a Vampire/Demon(Succubus). Tristan is a Werewolf. [B]Grade/Occupation:[/B] Solace: Grade 11/Doesn't seem to have an occupation other than hanging out at Books and Brew. Tristan: Teaches Creative Writing at the High School and often helps out in the Theatre department as well. [B]Bio: [/B] Solace was born in England over 300 years ago. Her family wasn't of high court status, but they were a part of the more elite. The details of her family are to her now almost as they were then: unimportant. She spent most of her childhood disobeying her parents, going out into the country, playing far too much and studying far too little. Five weeks before her nineteenth birthday, she had snuck out of a boring social party her parents were having when something caughter her eye. It was a beautiful man, watching her from the corner of an alleyway across the street. She hurried to meet him, but he had somehow disappeared before she had even gotten halfway across the street. She saw movment deeper back in the streetway, so she went to see if it was the stranger. he looked so... nice, almost familiar. Instead of the man, she found herself suddenly forced up against the damp wall of a building, something ripping at her clothing like an animal, but with hands as soft as silk. A strange cross of fear and excitment filled her, and she could not find the will to fight back as her corset was torn away and her skirts thrust up around her waist. The person - she was sure it was a person - pinned her against the wall, a hot hand sliding up her side, and making her forget even how to breathe... And then suddenly it was over. There was a painfull ache between her legs, and she was bleeding... bleeding everywhere... Nothing hurt, everything was too numb to hurt, but she could still see. And she saw when the beautiful man from before knelt over her, picking her up as if she weighed little more than a feather. She found herself lost for the second time in one night, though this time it was to a pair of smoldering green eyes that consumed her before she even felt the fangs at her neck. The man, the vampire, who turned her was named Alexander LeCourte. He had a repuation amongst those who were bound by the night as having a voracious appetite in almost all things... as well as an unpleasant affinity for small children, girls and boys. Solace was a bit old for what he usually sought, but he had been taken with her audacity. When she was attacked by what she later learned to be an incubus, he could not simply stand by and let her die... especially as such sweet life blood flowed so freely from her. And so it was, Solace became one of the 'children of the night', though in more ways than one. She seemed to have aquired Alexander's appetite, but fortunately not his... tastes. She was much in distaste of what he enjoyed, in fact, but had no other choice to follow him, at least in the beginning. He was her maker, and she knew nothing else. She did not even know that the demonic essence running through her allowed her withstand sunlight and flame. Not until the higher courts of the vampires decided that Alexander had had enough of his slaughter and molestation of human children. Even some vampires have good breeding, especially in the ways of innocence. When Alexander ran, Solace ran with him. But, when they were caught an locked within a room that at dawn filled with sunlight, she did not scream and writhe as Alexander did when his flesh burst into the hot flames that destroyed him. She was allowed to live after such an interesting... feat, but was banished from England. So she traveled for the next couple of centuries, taking no one along but herself though she made quite a few aquaintances along the way. Her lust was not only for blood, but for the flesh, though usually both could be found without much trouble. She slowly gained more control, more power, and when Europe grew into too much turmoil even for her, she left for America(which is I'm guessing where this rp takes place...?), the land of promise.... She jumped from city to city, never truly finding what she wanted, though what that something was remains unknown to her even now. In the latest town she visited, she decided to take a lone man who was walking one night in a deserted park. That man was Tristan. And he did not make a good meal. Tristan was easily bespelled, seduced under her weightier power and control, but somehow he managed to push her away as she sat straddling him on a park bench, brushing his bangs away from his neck. He shifted, blind with anger for a few moments before he calmed and realized that he was now pinning her against a jungle gym, though his lust for blood and flesh was not in the same context as hers. Meat. Meat was all the Beast wanted. Tristan had always been a werewolf, born into it through a family curse that went back as far as and possibly further than the Salem witch hunts. He hated his beast, and restrained it, chained it and caged it away as long as he could when he was young. His parents tried to teach him to deny it would only make it more violent and unpredictable when it came out again... and that it would come out again. He didn't believe them. Until he woke up one morning in what was his parent's bedroom covered in their blood at the age of 15. He moved to the town where he now teaches after moving multiple times and going to college, trying his best to teach himself how to best control himself and that part of him that was not human. Not human, just animal. Just an animal. It was slow and painful, but he slowly gained control, taking up his current teaching job after college. He still hides, from himself and even from the community of werewolves that exist within the town, but he has been slowly making better friends with Principle Mito Itomi. After that night in the park, Solace and Tristan strangely enough formed somewhat of a bond, a friendship but also an understanding of the things that lived within them - the things that they were and could not always control. It is far from love. But it is something that they share. Solace joined the high school after much urging from Tristan, though she remains somewhat aloof in the student body. Almost seductively polite, but somewhat detached, slightly cynical if people get too close, more distant if they get closer. She takes one of Tristan's - or rather, Mr. Stevens' - writing classes, and holds conferences with him every so often. She has taken quite a liking to books; perhaps an need to learn that she never quite allowed to emerege when she really was 18. ((Sorry that was so long... >.
  9. Hey there... Um... if this rp is going to live, I'd like to join... As Saitou Hajime... If you think that it'll stay alive, I'll post up some stats. Thanks! -Pandemonium
  10. [size=1][color=darkred] Ashika had her pistol laid out on her bed, the weapon completely dismantled as she cleaned it with care. Classical Japanese music played softly in the background, and she hummed lightly to the familiar tunes. They were suddenly disrupted when her 'buisness phone' rang. Setting down the peice she was working on, Ashi picked up the reciever, her smooth alto voice carrying perfectly over the phone. "Hello?" "Ms. Ashika Knyght? This is Lance Anderson fro-" She almost rolled her eyes, not bothering to sit down, "Get on with it. What do you need?'' "1432 Princeton Boulevard, three o'clock tomorrow." "I'm there." Click. She flipped the sleek black reciever back in its holder and turned back to her bed. There was no need to write anything down. She would be there. Within seconds the tactical weapon was whole again, clean and ready to be loaded. She always kept a bullet in the chamber. Placing it on her bedside table next to her glass of water, she turned and moved to her walk-in closet. After a few minutes, she returned with a medium sized breifcase and her sheathed tanto. Placing both on her dresser, she made ready for bed. The fact that three deadly weapons lay less than four feet from her head didn't bother her in the least. Lance Anderson, huh. She smirked despite herself. Tomorrow would be interesting. Tonight she would sleep well. [/size][/color]
  11. ((I hope I'm not too late!!! *begs and pleads* Ahem... yeah...)) [color=darkred][size=1][b]Name:[/b] Tahl?nalque. She doesn?t have a last name, though she?s not actually sure whether what she has was originally a first of last name. She thinks that Tahl was the name given to her by her mother, but she barely even remembers what the she-elf looked like. Her full name now means the ?Blade Far Forgotten?. To her friends, if she had any, she could also be called just Tahl. [b]Race:[/b] 100% mongrel (as she likes to say). She?s a half-blood, part Elenath Tawarwaith, born of the stars, and part Taur Tawarwaith, a child of the forest. [b]Age:[/b] 437? she thinks. [b]Gender:[/b] May be a half-blood, but she?s female through and through. [b]Appearance:[/b] [url=http://neondragonart.com/Art/2002/Elf_warrior.html]Tahl?nalque[/url] usually wears the clothing you see, though she also has a deep chocolate cloak that she can wear. Her long hair is usually pulled back, either in a loose ponytail or in some kind of braiding. Overall, her appearance set her apart from the usually, light sky or sea eyed, pale-skinned elves she meets. [b]Abilities:[/b] In physicality, Tahl has inherited mostly from her Wood Elf heritage, her agility and speed are amazing, and she uses them in ways to compensate for her lack of great physical strength. But the blood of the Star Elves that runs through her veins seems to have added a little something extra to her abilities. The magical attributes of the Elenath have merged with the soul of the wood and things that live and grow, allowing her what she sometimes calls True Voice. She is able to speak and communicate with the green things that grow, as well as the creatures that may roam the earth. She was able to speak to the animals for as long as she could remember, but recently she has found other voices that answer to the True Voice. She does not have true magical abilities as most would think of, but it seems that the voices of the elements also speak to her now, the soft tones of Water and Wind being her closest friends. She cannot conjure up the power of water or bend the wind to her will, but she can ask them for simple conversation, guidance, or aid in times of need, though the elements are the hardest to Speak to, and usually fatigue her after a while. Sometimes the voices of the others can be overwhelming to her, as she is still fairly new in speaking with such powerful forces. When this happens, she often finds little rest, and much trouble. [b]Personality:[/b] Her personality both shares aspects of the two races she comes from, and some that seem to have been a byproduct of the two merging. Though she isn?t really shy in nature towards others that she meets, she isn?t exactly outgoing. She has no problem communicating with others, but her words are often purposely misleading, hiding her true self and intentions. She never lies straight out, but sometimes she can dance rings around truth, and easily leads others to believe what they see fit to believe without having to lie. Perhaps it is a part of her power, or just that she has made it into her own personal art. Friendly enough, she is willing to help those that she sees in need, as long as she feels that they really are in need of help. Her major fault, though she?ll never call it such, is in the area of loyalties. She trusts no one. Ever. She will never truly entrust herself to something, nor will she allow anything to confide itself to her, if she can help it. Giving yourself over to something completely, whether it be a cause, or another person, no matter how loved they may be, is only a weakness that will lead to downfall. A lesson she has felt many times that she has learned. And so, she simply doesn?t. Simple. The ways she likes things. Unfortunately for her, the world isn?t all quite that simple, is it? [b]Weapons:[/b] She has a long, slightly curved sword (shown in the pic) with a thin blade that she always carries. Despite the paper-thin appearance of the katana-like weapon, it is surprisingly durable, sharp enough to slice silk (an old Japanese tradition(?) of dropping a piece of silk over a blade and seeing if it cuts it cleanly) among other things. It seems to have a mind of its own, the dark silver blade sometimes reflecting that around it like a mirror, but hardly ever reflecting light. Its name is Draelond, which means ?Deep Harbor?, and it is resistant to many magical attacks, when it ?wants to be?. It doesn?t actually talk to Tahl, but she feels as if it can understand her, and has come to believe that it may contain a part of her father?s spirit. On one side of the blade near the hilt it the inscription, ?Neenah Kimayah Tesheeah? or ?The Heavens bar the way to a soul held in rage.? It was her father?s sword and mantra, and now both are hers to live by. The sheath is also very strong, a polished ancient wood with a twisted almost Celtic looking knot working at the end past the end of where the blade lays within. She also carries a small bag (also shown in picture, just under her hair connected to the leather straps) that is always filled with various herbs; those used from anything from poison to healing. Right behind that against her back is a small straight dirk named Aidan or ?little flame?. It looks simple enough, just a straight silver blade connected to a thick hilt. Until the hilt disconnects from the blade, the two joined by a thin linked chain of about five and a half feet maximum length. This she has had all her life, given to her by her mother. [b]Bio:[/b] It all began near the end of the time of the War of Woe, when many lights were dimmed, and many taken by the darkness. A warrior of the Elenath Tawarwaith, known as Astarii fought with the great armies of light to beat back the Enduring Enemy. The small regiment that he was a part of was sent on a very perilous mission of helping to distract the Enemy while the Umdagnir was being hidden. Many fell in that attempt, other groups coming to their aid, the soldiers like toys cast aside in the Enemy?s wake of destruction and death. It was a massacre, but their mission was achieved, despite the horrible cost. Hardly any survived, many taken by the Enemy or never found. Astarii was presumed dead. However, instead of death, the warrior found a fate far crueler; his eyes taken from him by the ways of war, his spirit tortured by those who wished to break it. He wandered into the darkened woods, unexplored by even the Enemy?s masses for the risk was too great when waging the war against the light. There he was resigned to find his death, the bright flame of his soul nothing but cooling embers. However, it seemed that the great stars of the heavens had not given him over to the eternal darkness yet, and he found himself awakening to the soft smells of fresh earth and crisp water. A soft hand was placed upon his ruined eyes, gently covering them in a mint salve. He did not think such was the enemy, but he could not be sure, striking out with his magic as his sword had been taken. But the presence refused to leave, instead murmuring calming words into his strained soul, gentle and feminine. Her name was Eluana, and she smelt of morning dew and sweet wood. She was of the Taur Tawarwaith, hidden away from the enemy and living as peacefully as they could, ignoring the scent of war and embracing the calm spirit of the wood. She brought him healing of the body and mind, giving him peace he had long forgotten. They fell in love, against the advice of the elders of her kind, and against the will of her people and friends. Together they lived, ignoring the harsh words behind their backs, the glaring eyes upon their forms. Astarii loved this place, but his true nature kept him in his training in physicality and magic. His ability to call upon and wield the element of Fire caused even more rumors of him being a demon come to enslave them or some evil spirit come to bring grief to the people. When news of the end of the war reached the wood, he found that his soul would not let him rest, knowing that the Enemy was still alive. Finally, he could endure it no longer, and he told Eluana of his plans to leave. She, loving him so, let him do his will, despite the hurt it brought to her soul. And so Astarii left the Veiled Wood, unknowing of the child growing within his mate?s body. When the child was born, both mother and child were immediately shunned. Eluana?s body was weak, but the other Wood Elves refused to give much aid; even her friends looking the other way so as not to be considered in league with the elf who had given birth to demon spawn. They would not accept any change to their ways. The child?s original name is unknown, the elders refusing to help give her a proper name, as was often the custom. Driven by fear and this unknown feeling of hate, a small group drove Eluana and her small child out of the high city in the trees. She was forced to join a small band of outcasts, mainly thieves and killers who surprisingly took pity on her and protected both the woman and child within the outskirts of Esgaleryn. However, it was not to last. The Enemy had resurfaced, and with it the darkness began to seep into the forests. It did not touch the Veiled Wood, but Eluana and her ?clan? could not get food from the city and often had to venture out into the outer forests for supplies. It was there the darkness caught them when they were getting water. Most of the men died trying to defend Eluana and her child, though some were swayed to join the ways of evil. It was a valiant fight, surely heard by those up within the city in the trees. No help came for them. The lights of Esgaleryn dimmed, mist covering their form, blocking out the screams, dimming the scent of blood to something that could be ignored. Eluana was fatally injured, even so she fought back with her weapon. In a last attempt, she gave the weapon, Aidan, to her young daughter, pushing her into the narrow but deep river. It was the last Tahl saw of her mother. She wandered the forest for days, barely managing to stay alive, skirting the edges of Esgaleryn, stealing food from camps that she found unguarded. Finally, she was stealing a loaf of sweet bread when the owner came back. She fought him, but in the end was defeated, fire leaping from the strange elf?s fingertip and surrounding her. She stared up in wonder, remembering the tales her mother told of her father?s awesome powers. She had found her father. Astarii was appalled and heart-broken by the sad story his daughter told him of her existence. He wept for his beloved, making a solemn oath never to leave his daughter?s side. He taught his daughter everything he knew, and together they slowly journeyed away from the Veiled Wood. It was soon that she learned of her ability of True Voice. Her father planned to take her back to Minuial Amuru. Surely they would accept her. Accept them both. He rarely spoke of what he did when he left, but it was clear that he had never gone back to his home. He would never see his home. Tahl alone made it out of the deep forests, carrying her father?s blood stained sword, her eyes haunted and soul empty. From there, she has begun wandering, staying in the shallow edges of the forests and slowly moving outwards, making her own way, and occasionally stealing if she must, though she never takes all or harms any travelers. The ablitiy to speak to the Elements came soon after, though she has never been able to Speak with one of the elements. The great voice of Fire has been silent to her, its ears deaf to her Words. The one element she cannot hold communcation with. The Element of her father. She doesn?t have much real contact with many, but she seems, at first glance, normal enough. She has no real purpose, though she knows, that if she ever sees the dark steed of the Enemy riding down her path, she will make him suffer, even if it takes her last breath and sends her soul to the depths of the Nine Hells. [/size][/color] (( Sorry that was a bit long... O_O ))
  12. Pandemonium

    Wei

    [color=green][size=1] Ken smiled slightly as his fingers gently traced over the body of his lover. The soft smile grew as soft sounds made their way to his ears in response to his fingers. Satisfied for the moment, the florist lifted the guitar (shame on all you dirty minds!) from his lap, running a few lithe digits over the beautiful instrument's strings. He knelt, laying it in its soft black leather case and slipping it under his bed. Quickly replacing the boxes that sat in front of it, he briefly checked to make sure the black shape was thoroughly hidden from view. If Omi and the other guys found out that he had taken up such a 'gentle' hobby, he would never hear the end of it. It had been enough when they found out about his photography - he still sometimes got quips and comments from time to time. But like the photographs, the melody that his fingers found calmed him and helped him find that peace in which they all were so seldom shown. He stood, grabbing his jacket and slipping it over his shoulder as he went up to the flower shop. It was a fairly nice day outside, and the flowers all seemed to agree, stretching their faces towards the warm rays of the sun. As soon as the light hit his rusty cerulean eyes (ok, Ken?s eyes are different colors all the time? I don?t have an explanation? so just bare with me, cause I guess he?s just a freak?), they brightened to shinning pools of deep Caribbean waters. Squinting a bit, he let a soft grin spread over his face. Today was a perfect day for a nice, long ride. He didn?t see any of the others in the immediate area, and took his chance, maneuvering around the many flower arrangements toward the front door. Freedom! Pushing the door open, he practically knocked a young lady over, quickly apologizing with a lop-sided smile. Of course she forgave him easily. No one could resist the charm. Jogging to the side of his bike, he grabbed his helmet off the handle bars and took his keys out of his pocket. The mild-mannered florist was ready for action, transformed into a wild biker that twisted the road and wind to his will! He slung his leg over the black leather seat. He could taste the open air now? Flipping the keychain to the correct key with a flip of his wrist, he grinned. So close? Helmet on, keys in the ignition, Ken was ready to ride, ride, ride? Until his cell phone went off. Damn it all. [/color][/size]
  13. [size=1][b]Name:[/b] Alyena Bane [b]Codename:[/b] Gemini [b]Age:[/b] She looks about 29, but she refuses to say anything but ?A lady never tells.? [b]Gender:[/b] Female [b]Ability:[/b] Alyena is a lycanthrope. However, she?s one of the few that didn?t contract it through a bite or scratch, she was born with it, a chosen in her bloodline. And her breed is a rare one indeed: dragon. She has the ability to shift at will, fully or partially, and she can control the elements of her draconian nature, fire and ice, to a degree, with the aid of her knowledge in the arcane arts. Through her draconic blood, she can also speak through the mind, the only way of communication when in her dragon form. She can guard her own mind well enough, but as far as attacks, she has no physic powers, though a human should never look into the eyes of a dragon. Lycanthropes heal quickly as well. Her body is her own weapon, her powers as a lycan dragon and minor skills in craft her usual only means of defense and attack. She wouldn?t have it any other way. However her history regarding the craft is a double-edged sword, as is her lycanthropy. Her powers are strong, but she lacks discipline (explained in her bio), restraints automatically putting a stopper in some of her control and the extent of her power. And the problems with lycanthropy are the beast within. She can control her changes, unless provoked enough to stir her beast beyond her limits, extreme violence and sometimes blood can do just that. Let sleeping dragons lie, for those disturbed to not take to it kindly. These two things weaken her significantly, but she is always trying to better both aspects. [b]Nationality:[/b] She?s from New Zealand, though her true heritage is lost as she has no living relatives. [b]Occupation:[/b] She doesn?t really have a steady job. Working odd jobs wherever she can find them, she stays just long enough before quitting and moving on to something else. [b]Weapons:[/b] Unlike most lycanthropes, she has no problems with modern technology, owning a [url=http://www.hk-usa.com/pages/military-le/handguns/mk23.html]H&K .45 caliber ACP tactical pistol,[/url] though she?s never actually used it in self defense. She knows how, but she usually relies on her other weapons and considers using guns ?cheating?. She hardly ever carries it. Also, she has a curved dirk, dark silver in color that she usually has sheathed against her right upper thigh. It is a sacrificial ceremonial 8? blade, with a black and crimson hilt of two intertwining woven rope, leading to a dragon curled around a crescent moon. She has no other weapons, besides those that come naturally to her. [b]Appearance:[/b] [url=http://www.epilogue.net/cgi/database/art/view.pl?id=10701&genre=2]Alyena, with her dragon form behind her, and her ?familiar?, Virgo, just above them.[/url] And a [url=http://www.epilogue.net/cgi/database/art/view.pl?id=47828]close up of Alyena,[/url] just before the incident with the watermancer in LA. Her hair remains the same charred-black chestnut, and her eyes the same eerie yellow-green that always kept her apart from the rest of her family and the rest of the world, it would seem. She doesn?t usually wear anything too formal, anything past a nice, but still slightly ?gothic? skirt is something that doesn?t belong in her closet. She has a [url=http://www.epilogue.net/cgi/database/art/view.pl?id=39151]small tattoo[/url] of the same dragon that adorns the hilt of her blade about three inches below where her collar bones meet. Almost translucence, it darkens like charcoal stardust when she uses her powers, but usually is completely invisible. [b]Location:[/b] She lives on the border of Washington state and Canada, going to jobs in either, her home on the ocean front in a small town usually not on any map. People aren?t her specialty, so she likes the remote location just fine. She likes to move around a lot, but she has been coming back to this house for the past six years, so there must be something she likes about it. [b]Personality:[/b] Alyena is, in many ways like the nickname she chose for herself. She walks two paths, and her personality walks similarly the same way. She is a rather laid back, easy-going type, somewhat quiet reclusive and not very social, but hardly stuck up or unapproachable. She can be quite friendly at times, and sometimes a bit too submissive. That?s half her problem. She acts as cold as she can, but it still seems to attract people?s attention. Usually the wrong types of people. But on the flip-side of this cool, calm, and semi-depressed but outwardly happy girl is like the difference between night and day. Perhaps at one time they were both the same side of one silver coin, but now they are split. She hides it and presses it back as often as she can, but her other side is far from human. Her beast that rolls within, sleeping restlessly, wings folded and blood ruby scales settled, is the dark side of the moon. It is an animal. Unbridled in whatever emotion it might feel, waking to do one thing, and that is to feed and bring chaos. It is her other self that she locks away and chains down, buried along with memories of the past. But sometimes, no chains can hold and no cage can contain what lies beneath the surface, and the great crimson winged beast comes out to sate what it has been too long deprived of. [b]Bio:[/b] Born in a small little town in northern New Zealand, Alyena was split between worlds from the beginning. Her father?s side of the family was the side that contained the heritage of the dragon, and her mother?s side was a coven of high Craft users (witches, if you will). Her father, Orrion, never spoke of any of his family, who were supposedly all dead, but he wanted to take Alyena away to various places around the world as soon as possible to ?prepare her?. Her mother, Robyin, refused, insisting she stay with the coven and learn their Craft since her promise of high power was so great. Unfortunately, this created a rift between her parents, but her mother, backed by the ?family? of about 24 Craft users convinced her father to keep the child there until she could chose on her own accord. So Alyena was brought up in the rift between the two, told different things to believe, given different ideals to learn. She progressed slowly in her knowledge of the Craft, as her father continued to stress the importance of her self-knowledge and inner-peace. It was hard for the child, and she could not bear to break either of her parents? hearts, everyday remaining undecided upon her future. Little did she know that her future would be decided for her. On the eve of 13th birthday, a great time for the powers of the Craft to manifest, Orrion stole her away in the night. She followed him willingly, not wanting to disappoint her father, and sure that they would return before sunrise. They did not, and her father brought her to the edge of the land, where the sea came to swallow it up. There, a boat with five armed men dressed in black was waiting for them. Assured by her father that the men were friends, Alyena was about to board when her Robyin and the rest of the coven appeared and demanded she return with them. Helpless, she watched as her parents? verbal fight became physical then magical. Her father drew a strange dagger as her mother cast a spell towards him, the fire reflecting against the odd metal and hitting the young girl squarely in the chest. Both sides ceased fire to run to the girl?s still form. She wasn?t breathing. Orrion and Robyin were frantic, but the coven was still angry and now more so that this man had killed their greatest successor. Orrion grabbed his wife?s hand and slit the dagger over her palm before doing the same to his wrist. Bringing the now crimson dagger to the girl?s lips, he turned it, the two bloods running down the two woven strands, mixing against the dragon?s body and dripping into the prone girl?s mouth from the wings. She stirred, consciousness returning long enough to see her father?s tears and feel her mother?s soft kiss against her cheek before hot red stained darkness overtook her. She remembered nothing else from that night, but the carnage that she woke to the next morning would haunt her dreams until the day she died. They would haunt the coastal policemen?s minds as well, but what could have possibly so brutally ripped apart 31 humans was beyond comprehension to the law enforcement. They allowed the girl to keep the strange dagger that they found grasped in a man?s hand wrapped around the girl?s bare chest when they arrived. The girl had been clutching the dagger to herself, but the disembodied hand and forearm that hung from it seemed to be just as comforting to her. From there, she was put into foster home after foster home, in country after country, something always happening to cause her to run, or her foster family to die. She finally made it to the states, the land of free enterprise. Too bad that enterprise included some scum trying to sell off a girl of 16 years old to men looking for a good time to make some money for heroin. Luckily, the man who she was sold to was not as low as the man who had sold her. He cleaned her up and took her off the streets, never once trying to take what his money had so generously bought. He moved her to LA for a few months where he kept her along with a few other kids, out of trouble, until he took in a kid with the power to harness water. After a few? incidents, he told the kid to get out. Unfortunately for him, the kid didn?t feel like cooperating. That was the first time that Alyena shifted and remembered what happened. She ran after that, and memories of previous shifts started coming back to her. They were only in bits and pieces, but they were more than enough. Much more. She seemed to just disappear for a few years, before resurfacing in Washington state. This is also the time when she picked up Virgo, or at least, finally noticed him. If she were a true Craft user, he would be a familiar to her, and help her better her power, but she knows him only as a strange bird and her only friend. From there, she bought her small but comfortable house and moved up and on. Or at least moved on. Until a few months ago when there was a mysterious incident at a bar in LA? when Alyena returned home, she found a strange letter that she didn?t answer. Then, she received a phone call that she let her answering machine pick up. Still, the letter remained on her desk and the message on the machine un-deleted. Split between decisions, and worried about exposure, she headed towards LA, looking for answers, or perhaps just another piece of herself. I'm sorry that its so long... *runs and hides* [/size]
  14. ((With Annie's permission. *bows many times over* Thank you for letting me post this.)) [size=1][b]Name:[/b] Ashika Knyght (pronounced ?night?) [b]Age:[/b] About 24. [b]Gender:[/b] Nothin? but a lady. Heh. [b]Occupation:[/b] Ex-CIA Black-Ops, now hired by Jitsuka. [b]Appearance:[/b] [url=http://www.actressarchives.com/display.php?g=kellyhu&img=kellyhu100.jpg] Ashika. [/url] Though usually her choice color is black, her wardrobe usually resembles something like the one in the picture, a longer coat in favor of a short one. [b]Personality:[/b] Ashi?s personality is more like a comparison of midnight and day, equipped with its own personal light switch. Under normal circumstances, she?s a pretty laid back gal. She enjoys the simple pleasures of life when she can, and her humor, though sometimes a bit acidic, is accompanied by her ?smart-ass? smile. Although she plays it cool, something still remains hidden all the time. She never really lets go, the smile and good-nature almost like a carefully mastered act. But when the switch flips, the curtain falls, and the lights go out. On the job she becomes the job, emotion and second thoughts irrelevant and useless traits. No questions asked, no compromise, just the job. Questions always lead to problems. Questions lead to failure. She?s almost a non-entity when the shining sun goes down, cold and calculated, almost inhuman. Sometimes it lingers for a bit after her objective is complete, and the time span seems to slowly be getting longer. The light may be fading, along with her humanity. No questions, right? [b]Weapons:[/b] [url=http://www.hk-usa.com/pages/military-le/handguns/mk23.html]One H&K .45 caliber ACP tactical pistol, [/url] she keeps on her at all times, usually holstered at her hip under a jacket. [url=http://world.guns.ru/assault/as17-e.htm]One Colt M4, with a full kit,[/url] that she can hide under a large jacket, if necessary (though it a bit hard to do), though she usually keeps it unconcealed, over her shoulder in front, side, or on her back. [url=http://www.galatiinternational.com/Merchant2/merchant.mv?Screen=PROD&Store_Code=GIO&Product_Code=KB1245&Category_Code=KabarFixedBlades]One Kabar black 8? blade Tanto[/url] sheathed wherever she can place it on her body, usually on one of her thighs. And lastly, she has a [url=http://www.usmcweapons.com/articles/OICW/OICWPosted.jpg]OICW (Objective Individual Combat Weapon).[/url] This weapon she doesn?t haul around with her on normal circumstances unless she is going into a mission or situation where she feels it would be beneficial to have. Of course, she also is trained in multiple martial arts, which she also enjoys practicing for personal enjoyment. [b]Bio:[/b] Ashika was born in Japan, though she was brought over the States when she was about six. She has always loved Japan, but rarely gets to visit, hardly ever on her own free time. Her father was Japanese, and her mother a mulatto, both living in Japan when they met. Their reason for moving was her father?s placement with the American government, who had been trying to get a hold of him for quite some time for the development of a computer program to be used in national security as well as a weapon?s program. He was killed in a supposed accident when Ashi was almost eleven. Her mother tried to raise her on her own, continuing in her home study of education as well as martial arts. Soon, Uncle Sam came knocking on their door, asking to test the young girl to see if she had her father?s potential. Her mother refused at first, but it was ?found? that she had debts that hadn?t been paid, and was suspected of criminal actions? Her mother was said to have fled the country, but she was never heard from again. Ashika was given into the care of the United States Government at the age of eleven. The government found that the young girl, while being exceptionally intelligent and perceptive, did not have her father?s genius. She was better than average with hacking and computer systems, but it was far from her expertise. She did, however have amazing intelligence, physicality, and skills; the perfect makings of an elite soldier. At the age of twelve. She was put into training at thirteen, moving quickly to the top of the Black Ops teams by sixteen, her names officially put in the books at eighteen. She somehow got out when she was twenty-one for unknown reasons and went rouge. For even stranger reasons, the government only tried to go after her once by sending in her old team. They didn?t try again. Still, even she found it odd that she was allowed to run free, until she met Mr. Toran Jitsuka. After hearing the objective and the more than generous pay, she took the job, no questions asked, as usual. However, this time that ?rule number one? is beginning to waver the deeper she gets. Whoever this Aura is and whatever she found, Ashika?s curiosity is beginning to peak for the first time in more than ten years?[/size]
  15. Pandemonium

    Wei

    [size=1][i][b]Name:[/b] Ken Hidaka, a.k.a. Siberian [b]Age:[/b] About 19 years. [b]Weapon:[/b] Bugnuk, a glove-like weapon that have retractable claws. [url=http://goddesscypris.homestead.com/files/Ken027.jpg]Here?s an example.[/url] He also skilled in several forms of martial arts ranging from Kung Fe, Karate, and Capoeira. [b]Ethnicity:[/b] Japanese. [b]Description:[/b] [url=http://goddesscypris.homestead.com/files/Ken001.jpg]One Ken. Aww.[/url] , [url=http://www.geocities.com/orfosandayain/weiss/ROFL.jpg]Two.. ahem.. Ken.[/url] , [url=http://groups.msn.com/WhiteCrossWeissKreuz/kenspics.msnw?action=ShowPhoto&PhotoID=85]Three Ken.[/url] , [url=http://www.angelfire.com/anime3/hidakaken/kenfootball.jpg]Four.[/url] [b]Bio:[/b] Youji may be a heart breaker, Aya may actually break through people?s hearts, and Omi might be cute enough to steal a heart or two; but in Weiss, Ken is the sweetheart. He was born Kenji Sakae Hidaka on December 23, 1980. His childhood was pretty normal. Good student. Popular child. A perpetual charmer, and never separated from his best friend, Kase Kouichiro. He was the boy next door, and a phenomenal athlete bringing his team in the J-League world wide fame. In his second year he was framed for drug use and illegal gambling and was discharged from J-League. A warehouse explosion and fire almost took his life six months later, but he was taken in Kritiker for his promise of great talent. He was introduced to Omi as the second assassin initiated into Weiss and has served loyally ever since. He still loves soccer, and adores spending time with and teaching children. He had hoped to find those behind his set-up and also avenge his friend, Kase who had also appeared to be a victim, only to find that it was his best friend who drugged him to set him up and led him into the warehouse in an attempt to kill him. A bit short-tempered at times, Ken is an all-around nice guy for the most part, sometimes sensitive, and occasionally on the clumsy side. He enjoys photography, taking pictures of the few innocent joys left in the world and keeps a wall of his room plastered with pictures of things that serve as reminders to why he?s become what he has. Also an avid motorcyclist, he loves a stretch of open road to let go on. Outride the ghosts of the past, perhaps. He loves to torment Omi, ridiculing Youji whenever he can. He was a bit unsure of whether or not he liked Aya, but after everything the group went through together, he had formed a strong bond with them all. The second youngest of Weiss, he takes his missions very seriously, his at times child-like attitude becoming anything but when on the job. He is an arduous believer in honest and justice, abhorring evil in all its forms and willing to fight it by any and every means necessary. He hates liars. He was a bit skeptical of working side-by-side with Schwartz, and still is to some extent. He doesn?t know if he can ever trust them, but he does believe that Rosenkreuz is the greater evil. Mystiker intrigues him, but he has suppressed his urge to pry so far, still wary of those who were under the thumb of evil, even if it wasn?t totally by choice. He still remains charming and witty, almost always wears that boyish grin (even if it may just be a mask), holding onto finding the joy in every day. I hope that this is alright...[/i][/size]
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