Ozymandius Jones

[COLOR=DarkOrange][I]The town took forever to get back on its feet, ravaged by the fierce battle. Several of the families packed up and left, unwilling to deal with the destruction. But for years after, what townspeople stayed had stories to tell of one heck-of-a good fight...[/I] Alright, so we left this shindig with all four of you unconcious....hrmmm... Given the way things were going, I would love to call it a draw, but draws aren't fun. So when it comes down to it, I'm going to go with my first impressions: the winners are [b]Dragon Warrior[/b] and [b]The Boss[/b]. Unles, yanno, draws are allowed in which case it's all four of you. Good match all around.[/COLOR]

[SIZE=1][COLOR=DarkRed]The Beast slumbered peacefully in a cage of steel and wood so old and hardened by time it might as well have [i]been[/i] steel. Blood still stained its teeth and claws a sickly crimson color, drying to tacky brown on the fur around its mouth. Deep rumbling breaths - the creature's version of snoring - could be heard three rooms away. The beast practically radiated an air of satisfaction, even in sleep. It had worked that day, and it was happy. Or what passed for happy in the mind of a Beast, at any rate. Miasnik sat on the floor outside the door, reading the same book he'd been reading in the church just a few days ago. In his haste to pack he'd only grabbed a few items, but the book had been one of them. He was almost done with it, but that didn't worry him - there had to be a bookstore somewhere in the area he could lift a handful of new ones from. He was still sulking over the fact that he hadn't been let in on the Mona Lisa attacks. The Beast had fed - it was obvious from the state of the fur, and how deeply it was sleeping now - but according to the ones who had escourted the Beast there had been two survivors. And that was where his problem lay. [i]He[/i] wouldn't have left them alive. Something told him there had to be a reason, but - truth be told - he didn't really care. He sighed deeply, trying to focus back on the book. There'd be time enough for bloodshed later. He stood, sliding the book into his pocket and setting off down the hall towards Frauka's quarters. Perhaps it was time for a conversation with his cousin...[/COLOR][/SIZE]

[SIZE=1][COLOR=Navy]Hollyhock sat on the front steps of the building she and the other Pillars were staying in, playing cat's cradle with herself. She was packed; had been packed since arrival. She'd never had many belongings... Something in her nature wouldn't allow it - anything she gained possesesion of she quickly became bored with. Somehow it didn't bother her - it was a simple affair to make off with something novel in its place...She flipped her fingers, twisting the cradle into another shape, grinning as the complexity grew. Maybe that was the same force that had kept her - like a few of the others she'd seen - from keeping a book? She'd never had the patience for writing - everything she wrote could quickly be replaced. Once it was written, however, only all-out destruction could change what had been written. And she preferred to not destroy things - you can't change what's gone, can you? Her fingers kept moving as she watched clouds march across the sky. It was a peaceful day, if somewhat cold, and part of her appreciated that fact. Of course, the [i]other[/i] louder part of her was speaking of a time not to far off where the peace would be fading... There was a sharp pain in her fingers. She looked down to find her thread had become tangled too tightly to unloop it. She sighed, snapping the thread as she stood, shaking it off her fingers. One of these days, peace would be as easily to manipulate as those strings. One of these days. Clearly not today. She moved back into the house, shaking her head. These feelings were nothing new; she'd always had them. But the day she'd woken up and her green eyes had turned blue? That day, they'd grown stronger. And now...she watched the others getting ready to leave. Now, she hoped this Scion of Balance would be able to help her reign the chaotic urges back just a little... [/COLOR][/SIZE]

[COLOR=DarkOrange]Another conspiracy: '10 more' now equals three! They can mess with basic mathematics! ONOES![/COLOR]

[COLOR=DarkRed]Not much is known about the Beast, even to most of the Society members. They just know that they control it. vicky has allowed me to come up with a few things about the Beast that will be in character information, and the rest of what's here will probably still need to be discovered so I'll be labeling this in character and out of character as they may be. [B][I]In Character:[/I][/B] The Beast is a strange mixture of mystical and mortal. The Society created and controls it, but it isn't entirely loyal to anything but itsself, so it's kept under lock and key. It's rarely seen in light, and has no qualms about the age or gender of its victims. It's best to avoid it when in a bad mood. Or a good mood. Actually, it's best to avoid it altogether. It generally goes for the neck, head or stomach areas when attacking, and it's teeth are sharp enough to go through bone. It's insanely fast and agile, but does have a few weak spots - namely its eyes. [B][I]Out Of Character:[/I][/B] Not only is it a huge, cow-sized wolf-like creature, it's also not an it, it's a she. There are very, very few Society member who actually know that, and none of the Brotherhood or the Hunters would know. She smells like blood - both old and fresh - and wet animal, but you have to be very close to her to ever realize that, hence why this information is going in OOC. Ahah. Further bullitins as events warrent.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=DarkRed]It had been a church, at one point. It was still a church on the outside - a Gothic affair, all metal spires and towers that rose above the dense pine trees of this German forest. At one time, perhaps, the church had been a lovely place; at one point, maybe, the grounds had been held back, under control. Now, the paint was peeling, shingles falling off; stained glass windows dusty and covered with grime... The forest was attempting to reclaim the grounds the church had been built on - trees and vines encroaching to poke their branches and tendrils through the fences; to loom like sentinels or guardians over the path that was being returned to underbrush. There had once been a flowerbed - very few plants remained, the thick evergreens blocked most of the sunlight, and what did filter through was green-tinged and weak. The whole area had the surreal feeling of a fairy-tale castle waiting for a prince to slay the dragon and awaken the sleepers within. Inside - past fallen beams and rotted floorboards barely- covered by carpet long faded and dry rot eaten - there was still a sanctuary, a lofty room designed to draw the eyes higher, towards the crucifix and the towering windows, towards the light... The grime now blocked the light; the crucifix was now gone. The only thing that remained of the once-beautiful sanctuary ornaments was the organ, and even that was decrepit, rust and tarnish attacking the pipes, a thick layer of dust covering the keys. It was a bleak room, dank and dark and dingy, with an unshakeable air of unnamed horror lurking near the edges. The natives of the nearest village - some twenty kilometers off - never ventured near the place anymore, although the occasional group of adventurous teenagers would invade and promptly leave - suddenly less enamored with the lofty ideas of exploration - before they even reached the stairs to the balcony. There was a running bet regarding those stairs - if anyone could reach the stairs without bolting, they'd be awarded honor for years and some item, whatever the fad was that year. No one had done it yet - and there hadn't been an attempt in years. It was somewhat strange, that. The stairs were a mere twenty feet from the front door, wide, easily-climbed stairs that looped around out of view - but still, no one dared far enough inside the church to touch them...much less climb them. So it would have been considered even more odd, then, that there was a set of footprints in the dust, leading up the stairs. Footprints that clearly belonged to a tall man, as they skipped three or four steps with every print. Miasnik Vhalamna, owner of the footprints in question, lounged in the balcony on one of the pews, pressed between the pew and the wall - one foot flung carelessly over the railing, the other over the back of the pew as he read the book in his hand upside down. The original users of the church would have winced at the book - the cover was of a women wielding a huge gun yet wearing next to no clothes. The text on the back proclaimed proudly in huge, red letters "The most violent thriller of 2006!", blatantly ignoring that the year wasn't yet over in its claim. Miasnik's thin lips moved ever so slightly as he forced himself to read the words - English words, of course, he hadn't been able to find such books in his native tongue. While his speaking English was more-than-passable, reading still gave him a slight challenge. Fortunately, while the words were difficult, the meaning behind the words was almost as simplistic as they came. The books never catered to his whims. The 'good guys' always won, generally on the brink of their inevitable doom. Miasnik had written different endings for each book in his collection; he kept them carefully sorted in a box in his quarters, each a practice of what the authors of the original book would have most likely labeled 'depravity' in red ink. Frauka had laughed at h - Better not to think of [i]her[/i]. He brushed his hair out of his face and continued, red eyes scanning the page almost eagerly, fingers beating out an irregular tattoo on the back of the pew. The ?noble spy? (he laughed mentally at the concept, even as it usually fascinated him) was being led into a carefully planned trap ? Miasnik was registering information for later use; if nothing else these ?American trash novels? were useful in their ingenuity for traps ? and the ?heroine? likewise, far from the hero? his candle flickered. Miasnik heaved a sigh and sat up to glare at the balcony door. ?Vhat is it?? The man outside the doorway spoke calmly, accent noticeably fainter than Miasnik?s. ?The Beast is returned. You are required downstairs.? Miasnik rose from his awkward position gracefully, pulling his hair back and fastening it, hot glee licking at the edges of his mind. ?Lead, I follow.? The man was a higher up; higher than Miasnik could ever hope to be, both by age, and right-of-birth. That being said, he didn?t have the?unique talents that Miasnik held. And Miasnik used that knowledge to his advantage ? the lower one with the more valued abilities would be far more important in the long run than a high one with less skilled methods. Miasnik began braiding his hair almost absentmindedly as he followed him down the stairs, book shoved into an inner pocket. The stairs to the basement were further into the church, towards the middle, far from windows and doors and other portals to the outside world ? the gaping black holes to the cellars and lower loomed ? an unthreatening sight, however, to any of those privileged to control ? and, at the same time (in Miasnik?s mind) serve ? the Beast. The stairs reeked, the smell of sour blood wafting up from below. Miasnik didn?t flinch as he sure-footedly navigated the dark stairs ? darkness was a second light to him and his kind. Once at the foot of the stairs the paths branched off ? both into further darkness. Miasnik didn?t hesitate, turning down the opposite hallway from the one who?d brought him down. There was no farewell ? none was needed. He made his way down the hall, past doors and holes in the walls, all the way to where the hallway ended in a steel grill. The smell was stronger here ? rank animal, fresh-and-old blood, and the mustiness of old hay. He sat down next to the bars, pressed his fingers to the bars, and purred, almost whispering in his native tongue. [i]And how is she today?[/i] The only answer was a low snarl. He laughed, and leaned back against the wall, content in the presence of the Beast.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=Navy][size=1][b]Name:[/b] Hollyhock Everlian [b]Age:[/b] 22 [b]Gender:[/b] Female [b]Appearance:[/b] Holly is a short woman, slightly plump, with long black hair that she wears in braids. Her eyes are a dark, cobalt blue, and set in a pleasant, friendly face. She is quick to smile, and her grin seems to light up her whole face. She carries herself with a humble, quiet air, and it is oftentimes easy to forget she is there. She dresses simply in long blue-grey robes and sandals, and wears no jewelry. [b]Personality:[/b] Holly gives the impression of being friendly and helpful. While she is that - most of the time - she is also highly manipulative, masking her words and their meanings in ways that make it very easy to confuse what she's saying. She often enters people's conversations uninvited, but usually does it so subtly that you'd tend to forget that she wasn't a part of the original conversation. Once involved, she takes people's words and twists them ever so slightly - not overtly, but still twisting - so the conversationalists soon begin to forget what they'd originally been saying and argue. Holly generally feels no real remorse for the confusion and arguements she causes, although she usually fades into the background once the arguement begins, where she will stay until the next opportunity to wreak havoc. She seems to thrive on the confusion, chaos and annoyance she causes. Holly is also facinated by new things - new inventions, new places, new songs, new methods of doing things - if it's novel and interesting, she's all for it. As a result, old methods of thinking are often thrown away once she encounters new philosophies. This seems to make her surface personality as changeable as the face of the sea. [b]Weapons:[/b] Holly prefers words over actions, but carries a simple dagger in case she needs it. [b]Pillar:[/b] Conflict. Holly is a master at twisting words and creating illusions, inciting paranoia just by what she changed the words to. She has the ability to also remove the moods she herself incited, and some amount of that created by others. [/size][/COLOR]

[COLOR=DarkOrange][quote name='vicky']Outside the meetings the Brothers (even females sometimes go by this) can do as they please as long as it doesn?t contradict their mission. However, during meetings and mostly during the battles with the Hunters, Brothers were required to apply paint to their bodies, even the few females who went into battle.[/quote] That's in the signup thread, so I would assume that's why Starr's character is called Brother even though she's a woman. And if there are "few females who go into battle" then, well, there must be a few females, eh?[/COLOR]

[COLOR=DarkOrange]I just got back from seeing this not even twenty minutes ago. My opinion? If you're looking for something like Signs or the Sixth Sense, don't go looking for it, you won't find it. If you're going for an uber-deep plotline, something that will leave you thinking for hours and hours, don't go looking for it, it's not really there. If, however, you want an excellent, straight-forward story with loveable characters and a fantastically fun plot, you'll most likely find it. I enjoyed this movie very much: Cleveland Heap is a teddy bear, and I loved him to bits. The part where he's [spoiler]essentially talking to his dead wife and kids[/spoiler] made me a bit teary-eyed, but then I'm a sap. I also really liked Bryce as Story - I though she did a much better performance than she did as Ivy - she had an ethereal feel that was just perfect for the movie. And I want a pet scrunt. Preferably non-bloodthirsty, though.[/COLOR]

[SIZE=1][COLOR=Navy][SIZE=3][B][CENTER]The Colour of Magic[/CENTER][/B] [/SIZE] The day began as every other day began on the disc of the world. Birds, pretty pastel sunlight, the works. Only one thing spoiled the early morning of the Ramtops ? ?Nnngh.? Rincewind the Wizzard was in a house. He was not being chased, yelled at, hunted or otherwise inconvenienced. And yet ? somehow ? he was still panicked. ?Mmm? Were you saying something?? That voice. That simple, little unassuming voice?the cause of all his problems over the last however many years. ?Nnngh.? Normally Rincewind was a bit more eloquent. Not much, true, but at least able to squeak out an ?Ugh,? or ?Arrgh,??currently? ?Nnngh.? ?Do you think I used too much yellow?? Somehow? Rincewind gazed, glassy-eyed ? at the swirling maelstrom of colours in front of him. Realization was tugging at the outermost edges of his mind; a realization that he fought to stave off. He managed a squeak. ?I?.don?t think it?s the [i]yellow[/i]?? Reverse karma. Such a thing ? conceivably ? should not exist. And yet, it did. Even here. Even, [i]especially[/i] here. Especially when it looked as if everything might have ? possibly ? been alright for a little while. He?d been invited ? a word that, in this case, was not being used as an alternative word for ?ordered? ? for a vacation - a word that, in this case, was not being used as an alternative word for ?exile? by Twoflowers. He?d ? against his better judgment ? agreed. [i]Somehow, that explains it all?[/i] he thought, muzzily staring at the painting before him. It was ? in a word ? tacky. Seven or eight obese dogs gathered around a table, smoking cigarettes and playing what ? on close inspection ? seemed to be Cripple Mr. Onion on a baccarat table of green felt. Given the correct advertisement, it could have caught on. At least with the elderly ladies with taste that varies in direct proportion to their pocketbooks. However, there was menace lurking behind the amateurish brush strokes and the thickly applied paint, behind the dogs and their game ? spirals and starbursts and figures of eight that ? against all logic ? were [i]glowing[/I] Glowing a strange, brilliant shade of purplish green ? Octarine. The Colour of Magic. [CENTER] **[/CENTER] The wizards were nervous. This was a normal mental state for wizards, but it was one they?d sort of ? grown out of in the last few years, with the Modernization of Ankh Morpork and the threat of being dragged kicking and screaming out of ? or was it into? ? the Century of the Fruit Bat. Now?now the feeling was back, and with a vengeance. And just over the last few months! Wizards were once again becoming unpopular. It happened routinely ? bad things happen, blame the wizards, good things happen, thank the wizards, rinse, repeat ? but they?d been thinking they?d broken free of the routine. This month?s tragedy de force was The Paintings. They(had been popping up all over the place, sold to art boutiques and junk shops alike by some unknown dealer. They were the typical here-today-gone-tomorrow work that caught on so quickly in this city ? but these were somewhat different. These were not quite right. Mustrum Ridcully ? Archchancellor of the Unseen University ? stepped into his office and coughed. The Paintings had been opening up a doorway to Elsewhere. Not always the same elsewhere ? sometimes the Elsewhere was clearly the Dungeon Dimension, at other times it has simply been?.well?elsewhere ? but elsewhere none the less. Somehow, the things were interacting ? and merging ? with the latent background magics of the Disc in dramatic, destructive ways. The Patrician was making worrisome noises ? and what worried the Patrician worried the Wizards. And so Ridcully scanned those assembled in his office with a wary eye. This ?Painter? had to go.[/COLOR] OOC: Check the [URL=http://www.otakuboards.com/showthread.php?p=740349&posted=1#post740349][B]Underground[/B][/URL]. [/SIZE]

[COLOR=Navy][SIZE=1] [center][B]The Colour of Magic[/B] [B][i]Cast - the Painter[/i][/B] Boo - Twoflowers White - Anoker OzymandiusJones - Rincewind silver_blade - Hypatia Descartes. Ezekiel - Jewell von Pastenfriesch [B][i]Cast - the Unseen University[/i][/B] Raiyuu - Curiousity cancer - Olwe OrangeJulies - Arrhenius Fnord [B][i]Cast - Nuetral[/i][/B] StarrStruck - Violent Jigg[/center] [B]ETA: [i]7/21/06[/i][/B] The story is now [url=http://www.otakuboards.com/showthread.php?p=740350#post740350]up.[/url] UU Members, I ask you to post first - you're in Ridcully's office. I just need reaction - preferably a discription of the events that led to your hiring. Don't do anything with Ridcully. Painter/Nuetral affiliation, please just a normal day-in-the-life type of dealio. You do not know anything about the painter yet - at most you know strange things are going 'blooie' all around the disc. Have at it. [/SIZE][/COLOR]

[COLOR=DarkRed][SIZE=1][b]Name:[/b] Miasnik Vhalamna [b]Age:[/b] 36 [b]Nationality:[/b] Russian, born somewhere near Petersburg [b]Faction:[/b] Society of Blood [b]Weapons/Items:[/b] [i]Weapons:[/i]Nik's weapon of choice is a scythe - a long shafted scythe that stands taller than him when held upright. The blade is made of blackened metal and razor sharp, while the shaft - likewise - is black and carved with strange signs that are outlined in crimson. The shaft-end is capped with reddish-bronze metal, and can be used - quite effectively - as a club. When he neeeds finer control of his weaponry - ie, very close combat, or being somewhere where a scythe would be inconvienient, he carries two long-bladed daggers. He's nowhere near as skilled with them as he is with the scythe, though. Understandably, Nik prefers closer combat, but when the situation calls for it he will wield a shotgun. [i]Items:[/i] Nik carries books with him wherever he goes. Not anything of quality - generally trashy paperback spy thrillers and the like - the more mundane, simplistic and violent, the better. This seems to give Frauka yet another reason to despise him. He also has an old pocketwatch on a chain. [b]Appearance:[/b] Tall - six three - gaunt and pale are the three words best used to describe Nik. He's built very narrow - his face, his chest - everything about him looks narrow, cold and sharp. His hair is honey-gold and falls beneath his shoulders, but he usually wears it pulled back into a braid. His eyes are crimson-red, but - like most of the Society - he wears sunglasses when above ground. Nik - oddly enough - dresses somewhat similar to his cousin Frauka - wearing a red trenchcoat edged in black and etched with black sickle-like designs, black dress shirts, black trousers and black combat boots. He wears red feathers woven into his braid, and black crystal earrings. [b]Personality:[/b] Nik is hot tempered, short tempered and impulsive - and all the more frightening for the fact that he doesn't show it. No matter the emotions he's feeling, his face remains the same - you can only detect his mood in his words. Nik is well read and intelligent, much like most of the Society, but allows his emotions and temper to negate what he's learned. He is slightly resentful against the Society, as he likes what little he's seen of the outside world and people who will willingly keep their distance from those around them - isolated loners are the easiest prey. He has the type of mentality that would love to play mind games and manipulate people, but he lacks the patience to see his manipulations through to the end. He has an almost unhealthy obsession with his cousin - he does almost everything he can to be noticeably the opposite of her. He also has an unhealthy obsession with pain - he likes to hurt things, and things that [i]think[/i] are all the better. [b]Biography:[/b] Nik's life started out fairly unwanted. His parents told no lies about the fact that they would have preferred a girl - one along the lines of his older cousin, Frauka. Not surprisingly, Nik quickly formed a grudge against this 'perfect' cousin, swearing to be as good as her - but the opposite. So far, over as many years as it has been since this grudge was formed, he's succeeded. While he was schooled and became almost as well read, Nik wanted to join the outside world since he first learned of cities and towns, where people lived who - in truth - really didn't care two cents for the other people. He was trained in diplomacy - in which he failed, miserably - and in the 'arts' of fighting and torture. He excelled there almost as dramatically as he had failed the diplomacy - and, as such, doomed himself from ever being allowed into the cities he desired so much after his first fateful encounter with them: an incounter that almost fulfilled his name's meaning: 'butcher'. When Nik was eighteen or so, he was taken on a spying mission to a surface city - he doesn't remember the name, or even which continent it was on. He only remember the seven - or was it eight? - people he managed to get his hands on, and how loudly they'd screamed... The Society was less than pleased, forced to spread rumors and pull strings to make it appear the deaths had been caused by a serial criminal. Nik hasn't been allowed to be alone anywhere on the surface since, forced to stay underground or in the company of others at all times. The last time he was allowed on a surface mission also ended in disaster - this can mostly be blamed on the Society's lack of comprehension when it comes to the fact that he can [i]not[/i] sucessfully work with Frauka. The two were sent to gain information from an informant in London. Unfortunatly, no one bothered to tell them that the informant knew nothing of the Society - and he panicked at the type of conversation they tried to have. The two cold-cocked the unsuspecting informant - and then proceeded to argue about how, precisely, they were to deal with the situation - Nik wanted to kill him and leave, Frauka argued for more subtle methods. The arguement almost degenerated into an all-out fist fight, only prevented by the timely arrival of London police. The pair barely escaped. He currently works as an interrogator for the Society - members of other factions allowed into his presence either disappear or are never the same again. He knows that his job has no equivalent in the outside world, and - strangely enough - that seems to be fine with him. Now that the Beast has reawakened...well...it seems he might be needed the way he is, after all. [/SIZE][/COLOR]

[COLOR=DarkOrange]It looks pretty good to me. I liked The Sixth Sense and Signs, but hated The Village, so hopefully he goes back to the earlier writing. That being said, it is being billed as his "first movie without a plot twist" which automatically makes me suspicious. M. Night without a plot twist? That's like oreos without the chocolate...[/COLOR]

[COLOR=DarkOrange][QUOTE=Dragon Warrior][img]http://img401.imageshack.us/img401/7664/quell4rf.jpg[/img] His name is Quell Danjer. [URL=http://www.otakuboards.com/showthread.php?t=54137]CLICK HERE[/URL] to see information on him (see my first post for the profile). He's a space bounty hunter from The Boss and my series [b]The Bounty[/b]. :) Have at him.[/QUOTE] This guy is nifty. *claims* EDIT: Posted several hours late as my power decided to go out, thus nuetralizing my alarm clock. -_- [img]http://www.otakuboards.com/attachment.php?attachmentid=25653&stc=1[/img] Even bounty hunters relax at some point. :3 Now! To Draw! [url=http://www.otakuboards.com/attachment.php?attachmentid=25603]Him[/url], plz.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=DarkOrange]Hey, [b]stay(sic)[/b], you seem to have missed Ezekiel's point. The problem is not just the length of the first post. All recruiting for RPs belongs in the [url=http://www.otakuboards.com/forumdisplay.php?f=48]Inn[/url]. The backstory needs to be at least three paragraphs long, and of good quality - no major glaring typos, grammar used the way it should be - and you need to have people signed up before it moves out here into the Square. Also, all RPG threads require a rating. This is all explained in the aforementioned [url=http://www.otakuboards.com/showthread.php?t=44318][b]Sticky[/b][/url]. Please listen to the rules. Have a nice day. -Ozymandius[/COLOR]

[COLOR=DarkOrange][quote name='GTK][img']http://www.redvoid.com/ori/pinkgreen.jpg[/img][/quote] Since everyone seems to be having such argumentative fun ( ;) ), I shall be liketh a ninja. *swoops in, sicks a sticky note to the picture: CLAIM'D. swoops out again* [b]ETA:[/b] I ran out of time due to my internet inconvieniently going Kablooie on me. Sorry. Pink and Green Guy is up for grabs. D:[/COLOR]

[COLOR=DarkOrange][B]Shadow_Blood[/B], please read the rules. The story behind the RP must be at [i]leat[/i] three well written paragraphs long, and your RP [i]must[/i] include a rating if you don't want it closed. Thank you. -OzymandiusJones[/COLOR]

[COLOR=Navy][SIZE=1]Alright! Signups are now 100% officially closed. The RP will be starting sometime in the next few days, possibly as soon as this afternoon. Those who made the cut are as follows: [center][B]The Colour of Magic[/B] [B][i]Cast - the Painter[/i][/B] Boo - Twoflowers White - Anoker OzymandiusJones - Rincewind silver_blade - Hypatia Descartes. Ezekiel - Jewell von Pastenfriesch [B][i]Cast - the Unseen University[/i][/B] Raiyuu - Curiousity cancer - Olwe OrangeJulies - Arrhenius Fnord [B][i]Cast - Nuetral[/i][/B] StarrStruck - Violent Jigg[/center] I look forward to playing with you all. [/SIZE][/COLOR]

[COLOR=Navy][SIZE=1][B]Name:[/B] Martin Tibbs [B]Codename: [/B]Blaesus - [i]Someone who mispronounces words, slurs his speech, stammers, or lisps.[/i] - It was an insult from one of his masters, he kept it because it's his speech patterns that leads the enemies to believe him unintelligent. [B]Age:[/B] 19 [B]Origin:[/B] London, England - or what's left of it. [B]Weapons:[/B] None [B]Armor:[/B] None [B]Victories: [/B]None [B]Defeats:[/B] None, although some might say his whole life has been a defeat... [B]Appearance: [/B]Tibbs is short - five feet, two inches - and skinny, with a mane of uncontrollable reddish-brown hair. His hair is long enough to be worn pulled back or braided, but he prefers to do neither. He also has the scruff of an attempted beard, although it's somewhat patchy; the same shade of reddish-brown as his hair. His eyes are bright green with flecks of brown, and tend to broadcast his emotions. They're usually hidden behind thin-framed glasses. His entire body is covered with thin, white scars from his various punishment sessions when he was a slave, and his wrists and ankles have thicker scars from years of manacles. He dresses in layers, usually three or four deep. All of his clothing tends to be on the raggedy side, although he keeps them patched. He never wears jewelry, and ESPECIALLY never necklaces. His movements are spastic - he never stands still. [B] Personality: [/B]Tibbs has a somewhat hangdog personality - he's easily overruled, easily walked on and easily hurt. After a life of being a slave, though, what else could you really expect? He's trying to be strong for the rest of the Learn to Fly group, but he doesn't really know what 'strong' is. He's easily startled, easily frightened, and his instincts tend to tell him 'flight over fight.' He considers that somewhat ironic. He hates being touched, to the point where he freaks out when people just [i]stand[/i] too close to him. On the positive side, however, he's a great listener, great thinker, and when he feels as though he's safe he's got a shy, quiet sense of humor. [B]Biography: [/B]Tibbs had been a slave from before he could remember. He remembers no parents, only owners. He was first used as a foot-slave to a rich child, and as he grew older he became that child's whipping boy, punished when the child did anything wrong. The other child, however, soon grew out of Tibbs, and so he was sold to another master. As time went on, Tibbs passed from owner to owner - gardener, cook, miner, cleaner - anywhere people wanted cheap labor? He'd eventually turn up. As life for a slave went, being useful was about the only thing he could do to survive. He tried to stay cheerful - or at least optimistic - about his life. Where there's life, there's hope of escape...right? But...he was still very young when his latest owner decided he was good for...something else. That did what beatings and hard work had not - it broke him. Hurt and humiliated, Tibbs retreated into himself, becoming even more quiet and fearful with every encounter. When that owner grew bored, he was passed on - with his former owner taking great pains to let his new owner know exactly what she thought he was good for. He couldn't really do anything to protest. Humans were secondary citizens now, a subclass. Any protest he could make would be shot down, denied as slander, or just plain impossible - the very [i]thought[/i] of an 'Angel' defiling themselves with a mere human [i]runt[/i] could be taken as blasphemy, although they all knew it was happening. And so it went on for years... Until he was seventeen. The year he turned seventeen, he was used in a wager - a wager that his master lost...lost to a human, a gladiator. The gladiator set Tibbs free, but Tibbs didn't quite know the meaning of the word anymore. So Tibbs wound up involved in a revolution, despite the fact that he can't fight worth anything. He's one of the few non-combatants in Learn to Fly; he acts now as a data collector, an occasional spy, and a message boy.[/SIZE][/COLOR]

[COLOR=DarkOrange]Hello, Shadow_Blood, and welcome to the Arena. Sadly, I am afraid I have to lock this thread for a couple of reasons. 1. all RPGs must go through recruitment in the [url=http://www.otakuboards.com/forumdisplay.php?f=48]Adventure Inn[/url]. Once you have the basic plot and story posted there, as well as what you want other players to include in their signups, other people can sign up. 2. All RPG threads must include a rating. Please read the [url=http://www.otakuboards.com/showthread.php?t=44317]Sticky[/url] and make sure your RP meets all the requirements before you start it again. Thank you. [b]Thread Locked[/b] -OzymandiusJones.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=DarkOrange]This thread has been dead since 2001. Please do not revive threads that are so far back in the archives. Instead, try the Inn for fresh new RPGs. Thank you.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=DarkSlateBlue][I]Man. And I thought this was going to be a cakewalk...[/I] Sparks waded through a field of identical looking flowers, none of which were the right shade, shape, size or scent to be the asphodel. She kicked a rock, scowling. "This is like finding a needle in a haystack!" Vernacular straightened up, a silly grin on her face. "No it's not...it's finding a flower in a flower field, which is infinitely, cosmically, massively harder." Sparks just looked at her, trying to gauge whether or not see was serious. She decided she was when the silence returned. "This is all well and good for you, you go on nature walks and all that jazz with that kid of yours, don't you?" Vernacular straightened, prickling. "Hiranmayi is not 'that kid', she is the pride, pinnacle, best achievement of my existence!" Sparks snorted. "She has, single-handedly, destroyed more of my equipment than I have. She is a terror." "You're just mad, annoyed, angered, miffed because she beat, whipped and kicked your sorry posterior at that infernal noisy, obnoxious, irritating dancing game." "It's called DDR." "DDR, Dance-Dance-Game, it's all the same to me: 'menace'." Now it was Sparks turn to prickle. "You're just afraid of progress!" "That thing is not progress, it's a pain!" Some part of Sparks wondered at the absurdity of it all - wandering around an exotic Grecian island and arguing about video games - but she didn't give it much thought as the two of them continued trudging through the flowers, heading for the cliffs off in the distance. Only once they reached a small hollow halfway between where they'd been and where they were going did Sparks sit down, panting. "Ok, time for a breather..."[/COLOR]

[COLOR=DarkOrange][QUOTE=AC!D!C][COLOR=DarkSlateGray][SIZE=1] 2. Our moderator staff. This is a big one in a few ways such as the Arena Underground mod Bio. He hasn't posted anything since February and he was last active at the beginning of this month. Is that not dereliction of duty? More so than inactivity is the age range of our mod staff, and lack of experience. Some moderators are only 14 or 15 (Aaryana is 13!), have less than 500 posts and haven?t even been here a year. Another mod that has caught my interest is Ozymandius Jones, who seems a bit lazy for her own good. Why does it take 150+ posts to figure out a thread is sorely lacking in quality and must be shut down? How about a certain Pokemon RPG that is still up after Ozy warned them to clean up the post quality? Hello? Thread lock yet? [/SIZE][/COLOR][/QUOTE] Well, y'see, there's this little thing called 'real life' that occasionally takes precendent over the interwebs. I'm in college, and I work, so not every thread gets an instant warning/lock. With that being said, yes, those few horribly spammy threads went on far too long. Most of them started out being spammy, warnings were isssued when I saw or was informed of the poor quality, and then things went on as usual. Considering they were never reported again, I let them slide, thinking they'd picked up. The threads that my attention was then drawn to again were locked, or at the very least warned because [b]some[/b] of the players were trying. Since then, several members tried to ignore the warnings and have been banned; and since then some of the players have - get this - [b]improved[/b]. That pokemon RP you were talking about? Since then, the quality has gone up. Sure, it's no "War and Peace", no Hybrid Vigor, but at least the grammar, length and spelling have gone up. [QUOTE=The Boss][color=navy][size=1] The lack of participation by Bio and Ozy in the Arena all together has me a bit concernced, as is the choosing of Mods who are basically new members from the past year and a half. I can name a dozen members off the bat whom I'm sure would do just a good a job, if not better, than some of the staff. I'm not saying that the staff in general is bad, nor do I hold a grudge against any of them. It's simply I find it unfair that some members were passed up for those important positions regardless of their experience and dedication to the Boards.[/color][/size][/QUOTE] Hmm. That's funny. That's really really funny. You see, I've locked every spammy signup that's come up since I started. I've warned and locked a whole boatload of RPs that made it to the Square somehow. Go back and check the archives over the last year. I've been very active. As mentioned before, it's not always [i]instant[/i] activity, but it is activity. I log in every day, check things every day, and if something needs locked, I do it. It may not be [i]instant[/i], but I do. And if I don't, it's because Lady Asphyxia beats me to it. Lastly, J is in charge of picking moderators. I'm sure he keeps an eye on us, who is active, who isn't active, and so on. Not during my over-a-year time as mod has he had to voice one word of complaint, as far as I know. So...yeah. Thanks for the vote of confidence, fellas. Also, Boo, you are officially my new best friend.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=DarkOrange][quote name='Dagger][img']http://www.otakuboards.com/attachment.php?attachmentid=25593[/img][/quote] I claim glasses dude! Mwahaha! [b]Edit[/b]: Do I still draw glasses dude, or wait until 1nOnlyCloud links their character? [b]Edit Dva[/b] Done! [img]http://www.otakuboards.com/attachment.php?attachmentid=25601&stc=1[/img] Dagger, I had no clue what hair/eye color was, so I saved a layered version if you'd like color corrections it'd be a breeze. I like him. He's cute. Now! My character! You can either draw [url=http://www.otakuboards.com/attachment.php?attachmentid=25602&stc=1]Smallcreep[/url] again, or you could try something a little more...unique...with [url=http://www.otakuboards.com/attachment.php?attachmentid=25603&stc=1]The Squonk. [/url] [/COLOR]

[SIZE=1][COLOR=DarkOrange]Hello, [B]Anime Dreamer00[/B], and welcome to the Adventure Inn. Allow me to steer you towards the [URL=http://www.otakuboards.com/showthread.php?t=44318]Sticky[/URL]. The [URL=http://www.otakuboards.com/showthread.php?t=44318]Sticky[/URL] contains all the information you need to start an RP here at OB, and all the information you need to avoid it getting locked like this one. Read the [URL=http://www.otakuboards.com/showthread.php?t=44318]Sticky[/URL], know the [URL=http://www.otakuboards.com/showthread.php?t=44318]Sticky[/URL], the [URL=http://www.otakuboards.com/showthread.php?t=44318]Sticky[/URL] is your friend. Pay careful attention to the rules regarding post quality and grammar, and the section regarding what, exactly is needed in the signup. Feel free to re-create this thread when it meets the [URL=http://www.otakuboards.com/showthread.php?t=44318]Sticky's[/URL] requirements. Until then, [b]Thread Locked[/b][/COLOR][/SIZE]