Angelus_Necare

[center][font=Garamond][center][color=seagreen][size=4][b]Sergi Oliver[/b][/color][/size][/center][/font] [center][IMG]http://img.mensdivision.net/MDV7.jpg[/IMG][/center] [center][color=seagreen][font=bookantiqua][size=2]Age 18[/color][/font][/center][/size] [font=bookantiqua][size=2][color=seagreen][center][b][u]Side:[/u][/b] Sides with Robin[/color][/size][/font][/center] [font=bookantiqua][color=seagreen][center][b][u]Weapons/Items/Talents[/b][/u] Oliver doesn't fancy himself a very skilled or seasoned fighter, but he can defend himself quite well and enough to possibly wound his attacker in the process. The weapon of choice for Oliver comes in the form of an ExStaff, a small metalic disk that can rest in the palm of one's hand and extend several feet for use as a fighting staff. This weapon has become common among the poor, since they are easy to make produce and hide from prying eyes. While not being a very good fighter, Oliver has spent many years pouring his talents into other things, such as the operations, workings and dissasembling of various modern and historic gadgets. Oliver takes great pride in his ability to create or fix any peice of technology that would happen to come across his path, and it has made him a rather sought after individual where the law is concerned. For his crimes against giving the poor better technology than they are allowed Oliver is constantly hunted throughout the poverty strucken bouroughs in which he lives. Which brings us to his next talent, speed. Over the years of being harassed and chased by the law officials who monitor the city, Oliver has developed quite a talent for running. Nearly as speedy as they come, he's been known to avoid authorities on quick feet again and again, rather than standing his ground to fight.[/color][/font][/center] [font=bookantiqua][color=seagreen][center][b][u]Personality:[/u][/b] If one could describe Oliver in three words it would be, "Bright yet dense". Althought he may be a genius when it comes to using his hands and brainpowe, he lacks in the social and common sense areas that most streetwise rebels use to survive. It's not to say that Oliver is completely hopeless at knowing what's what. He can determine when he's in danger and when he's among friends, along with making decisions on what's propper for each situation. The problem really lies within Oliver's unwavering trust and friendliness towards everyone he meets. His ability to trust without doubt makes him rather gullable to whom he chooses to listen to, and he's been known to take things very literally as well. Although as frustrating as these qualities can be for someone meeting Oliver for the first time, his braindead characteristics dimish with the more he comes to know how a particular person acts. His friendliness is rather open and given to anyone he may come across, be it friend, stranger or complete enemy. Oliver treats everyone he meets with a kind amount of respect and politeness. Given that he receives a small amount in return.[/color][/center][/font] [font=bookantiqua][color=seagreen][center][b][u]Biography:[/b][/u] It is unknown when exactly Sergi Oliver was born or if that was his one true name, for the child had been abandoned just days old upon the steps of the sisters Wenna and Henna Sergi, two old twins who were rather well off as far as money went. Wenna and Henna, never having children of their own instantly took the baby boy in without hesitation and thus raised him as they saw fit. Naming the baby had been somewhat of a dispute in the sister's household, Wenna vying for their surname Sergi, so the family name could be carried on. And Henna, pleading with her sister to name the boy Oliver, after an orphen in a book she had read as a girl. After much dispute, the two settled on the odd, yet agreeable name of Sergi Oliver. Sergi (who would start refering to himself as Oliver in his teen years) grew into a fine loving boy under his Grannie's Henna and Wenna's carefull and protective watch. Knowing that children couldn't be let out any time of the day other than the time designated for them, the sisters let Oliver spend hours on end in their attic where he could play with the ancient technology that had been passed down through the Sergi family as heirlooms. This was where Oliver had first accuired a fine taste for gadgets and the unavoidable urge to tinker with them. Henna and Wenna encouraged the boy's talent, and would marvel at what contraptions he could produce. As Oliver grew older, he began to sneak out of the house while his grannies slept to scour around the neighborhood for broken peices of gadgets, or anything else that would proove usefull for his fascination. Sneaking out was rather dangerous, and at times risky. But it was undesribably fun and soon Oliver found himself leaving the house unnoticed every night. One muggy summer evening near Oliver's fifteenth birthday, the boy returned home to find several police cars parked in front of his house, extracting loaded gurneys from the house he grew up in. He would later come to find that his caretakers Wenna and Henna had died in their sleep, but at the moment he started for home all that filled his heart was saddness and fear. He knew he couldn't approach the house with the lawmen there after hours, so he did the only thing that came to mind, he ran. Soon homeless, Oliver began his secluded lifestyle in deserted shanties that would hide him durring the Non-child hours and serve as a makeshift home. He still gathered materials for his tinkering needs, and shortly began indipendent work as a repairman to those who couldn't pay for professional help. Being somewhat of a recluse for nearly four years Oliver has been living the same lifestyle he had found for himself after his Grannies died. But now nearing nineteen he knows that the hard restricting life of adulthood lies ahead. He feels the need for change, and now seeks a way to throw the system away and live his own life.[/color][/center][/font] [/center]

[color=darkolivegreen][size=1]Canathael and Maya made their way through endless corridors towards the time portal. Canathael's blanket had long since been cast aside yet he still wore the tight shirt that had belonged to Maya's father. Maya walked beside him, her hand loosley gripping his own. The other holding the book that Li had been reading. They were both tired. It was apparent in the way they shuffled their feet up the corridors, and hung their postures carelessly as they meandered onward. It wasn't long before they saw the others standing patiently, waiting for the two. "I appologise for making you wait..." Canathael murmured lowering his gaze to the floor. "I's no' a problem Lad." Morgan spoke assuringly, looking over the two idly. David cleared his throat, "I've already transported Li's Sarcophogus to-" He began to explain when Sarek cut him off, "What's a-" "It's a big coffin" David interupted to get his sentence through, "I'll be droping you near it. The place you'll be in is far out of the way of people, so you wont have to worry about being questioned." "Then why the periodical clothing?" Peiter asked "I think Li would have liked it that way..." Maya spoke up, clutching the book to her chest, "So let's just go ok?" Dave nodded slowly, tapping on a controll pannel near the portal's archway, and opening the way to an old China. He lifted his head before the crew walked through, "Good luck." [center][u]China 239 B.C.[/center][/u] Canathael blinked as he looked over a swaying green feild with blue mountains looming in the distance against a shockingly blue sky. The sun hung low to the east and shone with an amazing clarity. A light breeze ruffled the sorcerer's hair and danced over his new clothing. He wore a long silk white robe, folded about several times in the front and tied with a intricate black sash. Very simple, yet very elegant at the same time. In his hands he clutched his parting gift to Li, his own medicinal satchel. The woman he hardly knew had been a fellow healer, and he thought it would be fitting to tie the two together with the only thing they shared in common. Hearing the rustle of feet behind him, Canathael turned to face his companions.[/color][/size] [color=darkred][size=1]Bah, that post was crap.[/size][/color]

[color=darkred][size=1]It all sounds Good Vicky! I'm glad that we might become famous for these bits and peices of writting too. I talked with my roomie, Demonchild, about what's going on, and we both agree that this RPG is moving in the right dirrection. Chapter Ten doesn't seem that hard to accomplish either as far as I see. We may get to twenty pages or more by the end of the first part, and who knows, the second may run farther. The reason I push so hard for this RPG is because all the time I spent here at the OB, I've only finished one game. Just one! I see Sands having great potential standing alone, it's up to us to make it one of the proud few that become finished! Now that I'm done with that, I'd like to discuss the upcoming chapters ahead... I assume we'll be going from Li's burrial right to chapter five? And that this will be Canathael's timeline? Just a few things that I can mull over once answered, thanks for your time Vicky, and I hope that we all do our best to finish out this RPG.[/color][/size]

[color=darkred][size=1]Looking at my manga shelf now I see [b]Fake[/b], [b]Eerie Queerie[/b] and [b]Wish[/b] amongst others... Well, the reason I listed [b]Wish[/b] was because Kohaku isn't exactly male or female, so I suppose the reader could make out what they think of it in their own minds... [b]Fake[/b] was surprisingly better than I thought it would be, and I'm now glad that I picked it up on a whim when I flipped through a few pages at the bookstore. And I'm also giddy to learn that it was animated as an OVA! [b]Eerie Queerie[/b] Is also very well done I think, but I'm surprised it goes by as one of the lesser known shounen-ai manga out there among collecters. it's just that any person I see boasting their collection around either online or in person seem to completely pass by [b]Eerie Queerie[/b]. I own the first two volumes, and I think that it delivers on the humor and the boy lovin'. Oh well, as little as there was available to the public I'm glad to see more Shounen-ai manga pop up in the bookstores.[/color][/size]

[color=darkred][size=1]Just Responding to what you brought up in the Thread. I'm not sure if the 3-4 of us will make it as far as 25 chapters by ourselves. Perhaps it would be good to put the Rp to rest within the next few chapters. You know, the heros save the day and live happily ever after....But it doesn't have to end there. You could re-open the signups for a part two. Just to get out those other ideas that would have gone into the other chapters. Where we stand now, I think we have too many drop outs and too little interaction. I imagine more people would spruce it up a bit with their own fresh ideas and characters. Hence why I suggested a sequell of sorts. Maybe we should defeat Protosis, but Marrek will get away unnoticed, giving a whole new setup to the second part. All the characters could remain the same, and we could sign up as our orriginal characters or retire them for new ones. From there any story could form...Like Marrek tracking down each Sands member after they return to their time trying to kill them, or maybe Marrek carrying on with his own devious plans to rule time... This is all just from my point of veiw, maybe some of the others wouldn't agree. But I'm sure the input is apreciated.[/color][/size]

[color=darkred][size=1]Dubs that were really bad? I'd have to say any series that's unfortunate enough to end up on FOX kids Or the WB. No, I'm not saying that shows like Digimon (FOX) or Pokemon (WB) were terrible concepts, it's just the voicings were abosolutely terrible. What I think the problem may be is that the companies that purchase the rights to reproduce the series in english don't put a lot of effort in finding suitable voice actors for a specific character. Something else I have to say about Dubs is the VA Joshua Seth. He seems to wiggle his way into any role he can find, and has become infamous because of it. I'm not really sure if some people find that as a good or bad thing, I can't tell myself sometimes... I'm surprised no one mentioned the series Orphen, I thought the Voice Acting was very well done. Then again, I'm a huge Shelley Callene-Black fan, so her role as Cleao kept me very well entertained.[/color][/size]

[QUOTE=Dagger IX1] Anyway, what you do think of Tohru? ~Dagger~[/QUOTE] [color=darkred][size=1]Tohru, huh? Well I'm quite pleased with Takaya to create a clueless braindead character that doesn't automaticaly come off as annoying. Tohru is a very likeable female character in my eyes, which is hard to come by in any kind of shojo manga/anime I find. I think her appeal lies in her carefree charm, her loving dedication to almost any other character in the series and the fact that really isn't some giggling babbling ditz. That there's more to her deep down than what you see on the surface. Plus she's so darn cute! =^_^= [/color][/size]

[color=darkred][size=1]I'd be more partial to the way you have Sands set up (since it's the only one I've been in with chapters), but perhaps you should do a chapter system that's similar to a book whereas you'd be retelling the story of Robin Hood. I'm sure you have the basis of how the story went, and you could build chapters off of that. I could help you as far as music goes, well, how to create a musical link. I have seen people use small music controll pannels in their posts, but I could never for the life of me figure out how to make them. Oh, and maybe you should make the Sherrif of Rottingham a Lawyer ;), just a thought.[/color][/size]

[color=darkolivegreen][size=1]"Thank you my lady, but I think I shall sit instead." Canathael polietly bowed, declining the offer to use the bed. He coutched down before the bed, slowly folding his legs beneith himself, pulling the blankets tighter. Maya watched him with curiosity, taking a seat on the bed in front of him and smiling when he stuffled a sneeze. "What happened to you anyway?" she asked, setting the book she still held in her arms next to her on the matress. "I'm not quite sure myself, but I beleive Sir Sarek put a hole in his wall that was next to my room." he explained sniffling slightly as he adjusted to his rising body temperature. The two remained silent for a long time, both knowing why Sarek had punched his wall. It was the same reason an unshakable gloom hung over all of them, Li's death. It all seemed so surreal, yet so real all at the same time. Canathael furrowed his brow in thought. It only seemed that he was slaving away in his master's foul study only yesterday when David had first made contact. Little did he know that saying yes would land him such a bizzare world with such outlandish people. People that he would laugh with him, that would fight with him, that would cry with him. People, that no matter how strong they appeared were just the fragile shells of humans susceptable to death in the end. And they were all good to him, even Sarek when he could manage it. It was not Li's death that was completely weighing on his spirits, not only that, but the fact that any of the other people he had grown to love could fall to the same fate. It frightened him, and angered him at the same time... "Cael? Why are you crying?" Came a concerned and somewhat surprised call from Maya. Canathael blinked through salty tears that had welled within his eyes as he sat in thought. They were soon followed by a shuddered sob. "L-Lady Ma-Maya..." He choked, hanging his head low to hide within the blanket. It wasn't proper in his time for a man to weep before a woman. Funny how such small things stay attached deep within the recesses of one's mind. "Cael?" Maya had knealt on the floor before him, slowly pulling back the covering he had addopted upon his head, "What is it?" Canathael moved like a flash, wrapping his arms securely around Maya, quickly enough to receive a surprised yelp from the bewildered girl. He pulled her close, to his chest, resting his chin atop her head, at least now she couldn't see him cry. "Lady Maya, Promise me..." He began to calm down, as did she, remaining very still against him, "Promise me that you will remain safe from harm." Maya smiled, knowing full well that she couldn't make an empty promise like that, But she could try... "I will always be safe with friends like you..." She answered, resting serenely against the sorcerer, The two forgetting for just a moment, the pains that lay ahead...[/size][/color] [color=darkred][size=1]Awwwww, I'm such a sucker for fluffy stuff like this...[/color][/size]

[color=darkred][size=1]you know Vicky, I like the sound of this. At first it seemed a bit sketchy, most new RPs do, but I see this as having a lot of potential. What I think will make it great will be the colorfull cast of characters that could really bring the legend to life. I look forward to seeing this in the Inn my dear! Ta![/color][/size]

[color=darkred][size=1]To Ice-kitsune, yes Ayame is Yuki's brother, but Yuki absolutely hates him because he thinks he's strange (honestly, I'd love to have a brother like Ayame, but that's beside the point...). Ayame also runs a clothing store (or cosplay shop, what have you), which is a bit of confusion for the other Sohmas. I doubt any of them really know what it is that he does, and they'd most likely be better off not knowing....[/color][/size]

[size=1][color=darkred]This thing will never EVER die. We should do as the RPG commands us, and play along like the loyal little players we are :p[/color][color=darkolivegreen] After Canathael had bid a short farewell to Sarrek, he made a short walk next door to his own quarters. knowing that a good rest was in order. The smooth black pannel slid up and away from the sorcerer as he approached his room. not reacting to the hiss the door gave that usually startled him. It seemed that he was too mentally exhausted to notice at this point. Upon entering, the room lightened. Candles sparked to life, and torches blazed casting eerie shadows across the tapestry filled walls and cool stone floor. The desk was slightly cluttered with parchments, quills, inkbottles and books he had collected from the study. Yet these things hadn't been touched since they were set there. Most of his work was done in the study. A large unused bed sat still beside the far wall, its covers not once disturbed by Canathael, who hadn't found much time for sleep since he arrived. The bed seemed welcoming now as he crossed the room, discarding his clothes as he went. Now dressed only in his thin trousers Canathael had settled on the bed, sinking down into the goose feathered mattress. He looked about the room absently, pulling his knees to his chest as he did so. All was quiet, spare the light roar that came from the flickering torches and his own breathing. The room was chilly, as it always was. He imagined it was because Sarrek lived right next door in his own frozen tundra, but it really didn't bother him all that much. Tipping over onto his side, still hugging his knees Canathael allowed the bed to swallow him into its depths. Chancing at the opwertunity to get a small amount of sleep. All was calm. Quiet. Sleep was comming. KERSMASH! Canathael starled horribly at the noise, scrambling to his knees as best as he could upon the pillowy surface he had settled onto. A rush of bone-chilling air rushed over him, setting his body to quake and convulse quite horribly against the cold. [i]if I don't get away....I'll die...so....cold....[/i] Were the thoughts running through the sorcerer's mind. He hugged himself more firmly, trying to will his body to move, but it seemed all he wanted to do was remain still, and let idleness consume him. Before he could fathom what was happening Dave, hearing the crash rushed into Canathael's room to investigate the source of the noise. He rushed in to grasp the half naked man and pushed him rather roughly from the room, shutting the door behind him. "damnit!" Dave screamed, slamming his fist against the wall in frustration. If he hadn't heard that crash, he imagined The sorcerer would have frozen to death given the short amount of time it took from Sarrek's environment to affect a normal human. He sighed, looking down at the nearly frozen Canathael, who had sunken to his knees, hugging his arms to himself shivering. "s-s-sir d-d-d-dave...." He stamered, jaws clacking restlessly against the cold, fully begining to realize what had happened. "I guess you'll need somewhere else to stay for the time being huh?" Dave said solomnly throwing a rather angry glare towards Sarrek's door. He would have suggested offering Li's room, but that was still a rather sensitive subject. "Follow me." Dave led the frozen man down the hallway to Maya's room, where he could deliver the message of their departure and give Canathael a place to stay for the time being. He stopped at another black door and knocked, receiving no answer. Dave sighed again rubbing his temples, "No answer huh?" He turned to Canathael, who had quelled his shivering but still looked very cold, "Listen, just ask her if you could stay for a while, I gotta tell everyone else that we're leaving soon, could you pass it on?" "I will..." He murmured, watching the man who brought them all together take off down the hallway. Canathael resumed knocking, hoping to receive an answer.[/color][/size]

[Center].:An Evening at Home:.[/center] [color=dimgrey][size=1]Lysander swirled what litte Oleander wine he had left in the bottom of his glass boredly. He now had somehow wished that he had not politely declined his presence to the gathering at the Temozareila household this evening. Yet, as depraved as he was for the social interaction he craved at the moment, there was nothing moreso rude than appearing for an event that one had already turned away. Yes, he was known to do it in the past, but he was really trying to behave as of late. Especially after the incident with the house of Ezander's heiress and her escort meeting he and his harem guest. Apparently the girl's father was not so amused upon hearing what off-color things Sir Lysander Emric Sechwan had spoken that evening, and threatened to cut family ties with the snowy haired lech. Family ties that were important to his social standings unfortunately. So there he sat in his lounge, punishing himself from being social and becomming drunk off of oleander wine. A swift yet charming melody of violins floated through the room from a mechanized contraption that played various recordings of music. Lysander had purchased it recently, being the kind that enjoyed a good selection of music from time to time. He felt that he could loose himself within the sounds that so delicately played upon his ears, from the haunting melodies to the joyfull tunes that could be played. His passion for music it seemed, paralleled his passion for sex at times. As if reminded by something Lysander lifted his gaze from his glass to the ivory davenport accross from him. There sat a young, but well grown man. He was a lithe and gracefull fellow, blessed by pale skin that was utterly flawless through and through. It took the aristocrat a moment to sort through the drunken haze had created to remember that this man was a rather new pet of his by the name of Alrem. A creature he deemed his as soon as he laid emerald eyes on him. The man had been working below in the lower class when Lysander spotted him on a visit that was of a buisness matter. Ivy eyes slowly traced Alrem's distinct curves, angles and finesse. Eyes as blue as the eastern sky on a summer afternoon glared daggers at Lysander before softening into a gaze of loyalty and submissiveness. This made the snowy haired man smile. He knew full well that Alrem loathed the fact that he had to come under Lysander's service to survive. He had not yet been fully broken by his master, but would soon come to find that stolen glares would cost him dearly. "More wine Master Sechwan?" Alrem asked softly, his gaze now lowered to the wine bottle he had been holding in his hands. Lysander eyed his servant carefully, his gaze resting on the now tamed red mop that was Alrem's hair. A vibrant and shinning red, nearly wild and free as a few rouge strands lay limp upon his creamy complection. This was what drew him to the man in the first place. It somewhat resembled Belial 'ap Temozareila's hair, a man that Lysander wouldn't have minded putting his claws into. "Master?" Alrem asked timidly again, raising his gaze. Before he could sittuate his stare on his master, a white glove shot out at him, firmly grasping his hair. The servant gave out a painfull cry while the master softly chuckled. Lysander yanked his flame haired slave upwards sharply, strangling another yelp from the helpless man. He grinned wickedly, why the thought of Belial drew such a reaction from him he didn't know, but he enjoyed the sensation he was receiving. With a few more painfull cries, master and servant dissapeared into the bedroom chamber for the evening. The last melodic chords of the violin trilled through the empty room before comming to a modest end. Really. Who needs to go out when such entertainment can be found with a relaxing evening at home?[/color][/size] [color=darkred][size=1]The music above for this post is Bach's Allegro, from Sonata No. 1. I think I'll be adding classical/orchestral music to each of my posts, because it sets the mood, and helps me write for this kind of RP. And sorry if I'm picking on Belial a bit O-Ushi, but it's all in good fun.[/color][/size]

[size=1][color=darkred]Wow, that's one hell of a long post Vicky![/color][color=darkolivegreen] Canathael sighed weakly as he watched Sarek from the other side of the room. He too, like the icy warrior, was feeling the unavoidable gloom that had settled itself on the crew. His heart was heavy as he looked at Li's lifeless figure, laying perfectly still, much like his master did. Or even like the way he found Elsia... The sorcerer suddenly felt quite sick, and wasn't sure if he'd be able to hold back the wave of bile that was quickly beginning to rise in his throat. In a flash he fled the room, both hands securely clamped over his mouth as he swayingly made his way to a nearby toilet. Once he had exhumed what his body refused to keep down, the wave of sickness seemed to roll past him, leaving him feeling a bit better. That didn't mean that his firm grip on the porcelian bowl in front of him would loosen. Although his stomach was empty, he still gagged and heaved each time his thoughts wandered back to what was occuring. Li was dead, she wasn't comming back, and it seemed like none of them could have done anything to stop it. It was all Marrek's fault. The man he had put the slightest bit of trust in, because there were few others he could rely on at the time. The very man whos touch and stare gave Canathael the chills, cold sweat, and a very uncomfortable sinking in the pit of his stomach. The very thought made him want to vomit again, but he felt that there was very little left inside of him, if anything at all. Then there was the dark haired girl from the Federation crew. Another poor soul that was faced by his darker side. Something that he was begining to fear and loathe at the same time. He didn't know what it was, and he frankly didn't want to dwell on it anymore than he already had. As long as it doesn't appear around any of his allies, he'd be safe... Canathael wiped his slick forhead hastily, then mopped around his mouth a bit. All he wanted right now was to rest, to give himself time and the energy to properly handle these emotions and happenings. It seemed all a bit too much to handle at the moment, and the last thing he needed was to be uncollected in front of someone. [i]knock. knock. knock.[/i] He started baddly at the knocking, even if it was soft against the metalic door. Whoever stood outside couldn't enter while he was occupying the bathroom, unless he gave the comand to let them in. He didn't answer to the knocks, yet let a few snuffles echo through the small space he croutched in, obviously heard from the other side. [i]knock. knock. knock[/i] The outsider still persisted it seemed. Canathael wondered idly if Maya had followed him out, she would be one to worry it seemed, and he did dissapear quiet suddenlly. Although the comfort of a companion would be well needed right now, he didn't really want to face anyone at all. Yet the constant knocking wasn't letting up, and wasn't going to give him a moments peace. Canathael lazily reached behind him to hit the mechanized button that opperated the door, then hung his head nearly into the toiled as he began to heave again. His body dryly trying to get rid of what wasn't even there. Without turning to the door he spoke into the bowl, making his voice oddly hollow. "Lady Maya..." He assumed it was her standing there, "I feel a bit Ill, please, just leave me be..." But he received no answer. Just felt a body settle next to him, a surprisingly cold entity. Canathael lifted his head slowly, meeting the forlorn stare of Sarek. The Icy warrior sat crosslegged mere inches from the sorcerer, watching him with a lost expression splayed across his face. His street clothes were still damp from his escapades in the river, but streaks of what looked like tears down Sarek's face could not have merely been water. He must have followed Canathael after he left, and probably went unnoticed as he usually did. He had to admit that The cold warrior was acting a bit out of his normal character since they had come back. Perhaps he was mourning Li's death, but it seemed unlikely, it just wasn't in his nature. Before Canathael could ask what was going on, Sarek spoke in a low, dull tone, "Canathael...She was...A friend...." He said slowly, searching over Canathael's palid features idly, his eyes welling up again. "I know Sarek," He let out a shuddered sigh that was the beginning of a sob, this was all too much, "I know." The two sat in silence, their ragged breathing of silent sobs, echoing about them hauntingly in the small space they shared. Neither touched, nor looked at eachother for that matter, it seemed that all they needed was eachother's company. To know that someone was there. Perhaps the knowledge that a friend was close by.[/color][/size]

.:Lysander's Theme:. [color=dimgray][size=1] Name: Lysander Emric Sechwan. Age: 30 Description: [See pic below also] Lysander stands roughly at 6'1" with a rather relaxed yet gracefull posture that rarely falters or changes for that matter. His greatest pride is his snowy white hair, the full length of it reaching well below his lower back. Usually braided, he is notorious for unleashing it at social events where extremely long hair on men seems to have become somewhat taboo. Dazzling green eyes will stalk you about the room, and flash looks ranging from anger to amusment to lust within the flash of a moment. Lysander's wardrobe resembles his hair to a degree, as far as hue is concerned. He will refuse to wear anything that is dimmer than the purest shade of white, and would rather go somewhere naked than to donn a shade of grey. His stylings are stylish yet also functional, as far as comfort is concerned...Silk is the fabric of choice, materializing cravats, vests, sashes, top hats, gloves and an assorment of unmentionables. The rest is made from the softest cottons and various other materials to fashion loose slacks, shirts, and a large variety of flattering longcoats. Personality: Lysander puts on his best for public show and simply nothing less will do. He's always first to somehow proove that he's much different and much better than anyone else who might be in the same room as him. Most times he can express himself without making a simple action due to his rather "interesting" apperance, or perhaps his reputation for being a shameless sex fiend precedes him. If his exotic visage doesn't arouse hushed voices, then he will precede to show off his flamboyant nature rather shamelessly, the phrase, "hold your tounge" obviously never applied to this man. Whatever the case may be Lysader always expects (and usualy does) get a response. What kind doesn't really matter to him, as long as he can squeeze some sort of reaction out of the general populus, he's a relatively happy socialite. Underneith Lysander's attention seeking antics lies a scheming, wicked soul. He cares very little about anyone but himself, and will make great strives for what he thinks should be his. Once he has his eye on something it will be gained as his, or destroyed as no one else's. He has a rather dark humor about things, and will resort to sickening tactics to get any job at hand done. Weapons: Lysander's Cane- What appears to be a smooth ivory cane with a curved handle encrusted with various sized diamonds is actualy a hidden rapier that can be unsheathed and used before the victim knows what's happened. Introductions are in order: Emerald eyes swept slowly accross the entrance hall, taking in each guest with mild intrest. These social gatherings were begining to become quite boring, Lysander thought idly, still looking about the room. He imagined that he'd no longer be invited to these events after the time he declaired (quite loudly) what unspeakable acts he would rather be engaging in were he not stuck in some poor excuse for a gathering. Perhaps the invitation was punishment for his last act, or a dare to see if he'd do a repeat performance. Nevertheless the man simply could not refuse to make an apperance in public even if he wanted to, it seemed somewhat of a sickness. His gaze paused for a moment as he focused on a pair that he had not had the pleasure of meeting before. With a mischevious smile and newfound ambition, Lysander gracefully made his way across the room, ignoring the quiet gossip that erupted in his wake. The couple he approached were very new to these events indeed, young heirs it seemed, just being introduced to the higher society's foul attempt at induction. It would seem that the pair was left alone to fend for themselves, a form of aristocratic hazing. Perhaps this was Lysander's purpose, to harass the new money, since it was well known that he was an attention whore when it came to being social. Regardless, he did what was expected of him, now smiling down on the newcomers. "G-good evening." The man of the pair stamered nervously, obviously trying too hard to appear something greater than he was. He was overdressed for one, and his chesnut hair was a complete mess...Lysander mentaly tisked as his gaze moved to the man's companion. The woman was far better off it seemed, she was accepting her surroundings with a grace that matched the greatest of those around her. "Good evening to you sir and Madame..." Lysander's tenor voice rippled softly like velvet. The young man blinked nearly panicked, "Ah, and evening to your guest as well." He added, eyeing over the man who was standing at the snowy-haired man's side quietly. Lysander gazed down to his left side, he would have forgotten his guest's presence were he not loyaly attached to his arm. The young man wore the trademark white garb that contrasted sharply with his pitch black hair and eyes, wearing an assortment of lace, leather, jewels and other attractive accesories that gave him a rather risque apperance. One of the reasons Lysander brought him along from one of his personal harems, to show him off and to attract the currious attention from those around him. "I hope the evening will find you and yours well?" The young man spoke again, his female counterpart seemingly attracted to something off to her left at the moment. Lysander smiled, such terrible fun should be a crime. "Oh, I'm certain he will find himself well, an evening of screaming pleasure in my quarters should be quite a treat." He chuckled, taking a moment to absorb the young man's surprised features before he ran a gloved finger up his partner's jawline, "Will it not?" Before the young man, his guests, or any other eavesdropers could react, Lysander politely excused himself (rather loudly again) that he had other places to be, and frankly, other things to be doing... [/size][/color] [color=darkred][size=1]Ooh such fun...Lysander's theme by the way is a tune called "Silence and Light" by Alexandre Desplat.[/color][/size]

[color=darkred][size=1] How'd I know it would be Vicky to scout out my character first? :P[/color][/size] [color=darkslategray][size=1]"Nowhere in particular..." Eric answered slowly. It wasn't offten that random officers just began conversation with him. But it seemed like a nice change from those impersonal greetings that he only received in passing from those who had worked with him. This seemed nice for a change, he smiled at the other man. "I was just comming from..." He paused, nearly saying chapel before he thought better of what Daniel would think of him, "The gameroom." "Ahh..." Daniel answered, hands still in his pockets. Why did this all seem so akward? was making friends really going to be this hard? "So where are you heading off to now?" "I was thinking about going to the Library really" Eric mimicked Daniel, placing his hands in his pockets, idly toying with the rosary he stuck there earlier. "Oh?" Daniel smiled warmly, "That's where I was headed." Eric didn't give any response, just continued to keep a steady eye contact with Daniel, who continued to stare back as if he was waiting for Eric to say something. Both held the akward silence for a long time before either spoke. "Would you like company?" Eric asked quietly, finaly putting together the situation in his head, Daniel to sighed with releif. "Yeah, that would be great." He grinned, walking down the hallway with Eric now at his side, "Ever read [i]Huckleberry Finn[/i]?"[/color][/size]

[color=darkolivegreen][size=1]Roxanne cursed as she watched the trio dissapear into a mass of bodies. Without any hesitation she began to persue, slashing bodies out of the way as she surged forward, black and white clad both. One particularlly tall Barrier member jumped into her path and shoved her roughly off course. "I'm sorry my lady" came a crisp english accent through the commotion, along with a smirk that was a little less than wicked, "You cannot go any furthur." Roxanne stared into the chaotic eyes of Canathael. His once pristine white robe now blossomed with blood, some belonging to him, the rest was a mystery. He grinned again, advancing on the shorter woman who took a step back, raising her sword defensively. Canathael answered by raising his gun, taking a most deadly aim on the woman. "Stand aside Barrier scum, or I'll slice you from neck to navel." She hissed, making her warning clear. Canathael merely chuckled "Run away little child, your blade has no buisness with my kin." He growled at her defensively. "Another traitor..." Roxanne mummbled angrily, "You make me sick!" With a mightly cry she lunged forward, blade aimed for Canathael's lower torso. Fortunately the sorcerer was quicker, ducking away and behind the young warrior. With a strong downward motion, he hit Roxanne with the butt of his gun where her skull and neck met. It wouldn't Kill her, but she wouldn't be getting up for a while either. Without a backwards glance he left the young warrior face down in the mud while he began to search for his allies.[/color][/size]

[color=darkred][size=1]I haven't touched an Ouiji board since I was eleven years old. Back then I beleived in it, probably because I wanted to. I suppose it kept things interesting, plus I would always screw with my friends, making it move to spell their names and such... I imagine there are other ways to communicate with the dead, such as seances(?) and what have you...and I do beleive that the Ouiji board was a credible way to channel the dead, but not since parker brothers got a hand in it.[/size][/color]

[size=1][color=darkred]Meh, The Bio and secret are kind of the same thing, hope that's alright.[/color] [color=darkslateblue] Name: Jared O'Connor Age: 18 Gender: Male Sterotype: The thug- Angry at everyone, especially the preppy. Defiant, very talkative and loud. Apperance: [URL=http://www.stoned.com/jared/photos/requiem/a913.jpg]Jared[/URL] Caught walking back from his Sister's wedding. Issue/Secret: Jared has found himself in recent years to be a homosexual. Knowing this he is extremely defensive at all times about it, because he is afraid of not being accepted. He constantly puts up fronts because of it, and will scorn other people because he's insecure about himself. Jared carries quite a chip on his shoulder as well, for issues with his family life seemed to have torn him apart from the inside. Bio: Jared never really knew his father, and for most of his life was lied to about his father's dissapearance. It was not too long ago that Jared learned about his father's doings. Michael O'Connor, Husband and father of two children, had up and left his family for another man. What was worse, Jared began to take after his father lustrious traits, only making him angry and infurriated most of the time. He became overly irritable, and nearly impossible to get along with. Although he's the hard shell of a teen on the outside, he really is a sweet boy on the inside, who would never do to hurt his family at all. Everyone else is a different story however... Jared despises the teachers at his school, partly because he feels that they can see right through him, and this leaves him irrate, if not utterly paranoid. A few teachers HAVE actually discovered Jared's secret, so they look down on him and berate him because of it. The poor kid just can't get a break, making him all the more angry.[/color][/size]

[size=1][color=darkslategray] "Well?" Marcus said cockily jutting his shoulders forward, looming ominously over the tiny white chesspeices under his comand. His opponent had been watching the board for what seemed hours now, quietly going over all of his options. It was really begining to annoy the new recruit. To him, chess wasn't a game in which to hesitate, you found your move and then you went for it! "Hey, are you--" He began again, before he was cut off. "Queen to D7, checkmate." Came the smooth tennor that sat opposite him. For a moment, Marcus was stunned, looking over the chessboard very carefully, enough so, that you'd think he'd burn a hole in it. The other officers who had been watching began to chuckle and poke fun at the looser. "First lesson newbie," Michael, a three year officer clapped the young man on the shoulder, "Nobody, an' I mean nobody will ever beat Eric Tudor in chess." Eric extended his hand over the table for a friendly shake, as it was propper chess etiquete. Marcus took his hand reluctantly then sneered at the older officer as he began to rise and turn from the table. "What? Just one game?" He asked, leaning back in his chair. Eric nodded in response, slightly turning to look down at his former opponent, "There's somewhere I must be, excuse me." He said appologeticaly, before dissapearing completely from the gaming hall altogether. "What a weirdo..." Marcus scoffed crossing his arms. "Bein' here this long does things to ya kid" Michael answered, taking the seat opposite the new recruit. It seemed chess was going to continue afterall. Eric wandered through the hallways down near the lower levels of the building. It was time once again for the daily ritual he had addopted for himself since before he knew when. It was something he learned to do as a child and would continue doing untill he died. It wasn't something that was burdensome, nor did it seem very uplifting anymore, it seemed a bit more than a normal habit. This bothered him. He stopped at a large oak door, with a cross engraved into its surface. Pushing the door open with little to no effort he ventured inside, finding the small chapel empty. This didn't surprise him, and neither would the fact that he was the only one that used it. It seemed those who had come to understand time, felt that worshiping a diety such as God would be ridiculous. But it comforted him nonetheless, and old habits were hard to shake. Eric winced at his recent train of thoughts. He shouldn't veiw this as a habit at all, it seemed wrong somehow. He shook the irritating thoughts from his head as he walked slowly up the red velvet aisles, and ran his hand along the backs of dusty pews. He took a seat in the front, digging his hands through his pockets for something. After a long search, he pulled a gold and garnet rosary from his breast pocket, lacing it in his fingers. Eric then knealt forward, and began to silently pray. Silence befell the room once again, but was joined by soft, gentle breathing. It was very calming, one reason he still did it, and it offered him the time to sort out the somewhat hectic life one could live at the TPD. Finishing up his thoughts Eric prayed that whatever tasks were to come, that he could accept them gracefully, ending it all with an "Amen", the only word he spoke in the room. Eric rose from the pew, making an invisible cross in front of his torso, before he turned to leave. He imagined now that he would find something else to do to pass the time, perhaps he had an good book lying around somewhere...[/color][/size]

[size=1][color=darkred]My computer hates me, forgive the lateness...[/color][color=darkolivegreen] "Friends! Allies! Newcomers!" Gavin called proudly from a pristine paraphet set up in the center of the Barrier hotel lobby. What seemed to be a hundred or so gang members cheered at their leader, their calls bouncing off the high porcelian ceiling loudly. Gavin held out a white gloved hand to calm his followers, eyes resting breifley on the three time travelers that clustered near the back of the crowd. "Today, We will show the Federation who owns this city!" He cried, arms outstretched boldly, "Today we will finally avenge Michael's death!" An uproar of applause and cheering answered the Irish leader, but left three very confused members standing in the back. "Who's Michael?" Maya asked, looking to Canathael who returned the bemused look. A fair young man in front of them turned and smiled politely, "Michael was Gavin's kin, 'is brother." He explained, glancing back at their leader then dropping his voice, "He was killed a long time ago by 'is best friend...Man by the name o' Baz, leader o' the Federation." "So Gavin's out to get blood." Marrek stated rather than asked, the young man nodded. "Gavin already took revenge, 'e killed Baz ina fight, but it's no' enough, 'e wants Paul, Baz's brother." The man shook his head saddly, "The lot o' us 'ave lost so much to the war, maybe if we get Paul, it'll all end." "Brothers!" Gavin called over the crowd, "It's Time!" Slowly, yet surely, the crowd began to file out of the hotel, all heading in the same dirrection. Maya grabbed at Canathael's coat, "Cael, I can't do this!" She said, her eyes wide with fear, "We have to find the others! We shouldn't be here!" "Lady Maya, please." Canathael cooed gently, taking her hand, "All will be well, I won't let anything happen to you." She seemed content with this answer, grasping his hand firmly as they made their way towards the front entrance. At the doors, gang members were passing out weapons, giving each of the travelers small easy-firing pistols. The mob cheered and shouted all the way to the park, making their presence known as they marched through the city. Gavin laughed manically as they neared the lake, leading his troops into the greatest battle yet. Near the rear, Maya, Canathael and Marrek could hear the first shots being taken at each side.[/color][/size]

[size=1][color=darkred]This made me chuckle, And pirate RPGs are always fun =^_^=[/color] [color=indigo]Name: Arnie McCawell Nickname: Pint-sized McCawell, Babyface Arnie Age: 17 Gender: Male Position: Favors the Crow's nest for those long afternoon naps, but would really like to be first mate. Apperance: (Refer below) Arnie never got his man's growth, so he still looks somewhat of a child, and therefore, tends to dress like one. Personality: Makes himself out to be very important at a first meeting, hoping that those meeting him would look past his youthfull exterior (however this rarely works). Arnie is very sensitive about his apperance, and will get very defensive when teased (calling of his nicknames really irritates him to no end). Although he may appear overly pushy and defensive on the outside, he is really just a sweet boy, who thrives for greater things to be explored. Bio: Arnie has lived on Yohoho his whole life, and would like to leave. he doesn't care how he does it, but he wants to. What? you thought there's be more to this kid with the Napolean complex?[/color][/size]

[quote name='Rhian][size=1][font=veranda][color=indigo]Well, I gots anotehr one. ^_^ I think this guy is from xxxHolic. Either that or X/1999.[/size][/font'][/color][/quote] Yeah, it's Kamui from X/1999. I've changed my wallpaper two or three times since I last posted, I have a problem with my desktop I suppose :sweat: Here they all are for you, oldest to newest is Hellsing's Alexander, Dothack's Kite, and Full Metal Alchemist's Edward and brother (forgot his name!)

[size=1][color=darkred]Sorry to hear that Daisuke was leaving us, but does anyone know if DuoMax is still posting?[/color][/size] [size=1][color=darkolivegreen] The night seemed long and quite inviting for sleep, even now at an hour or so past dawn it seemed that time had slowed. This thought crossed Canathael's mind as he slowly dressed before the full length mirror that stood against the far wall of his room. well, room might not have been the proper word to describe it, it was more like his very own living quarters. It seemed that not even his appartments on the ship were this grand. He smiled gratefully for this encounter as he looked over his reflection. He was dressed in full white garb that seemed to be the running theme with the Barrier crew, which didn't bother him much at all. He wore the standard gear that all the members wore, white shirt, slacks, and vest. But he was also given a snowy white hooded longcoat that would hold well in the weather (it looked like rain again today), and suited him quite nicely. In his old time only royalty could afford such clean, exquisite material, for only the rich had the means and resources to keep such nice clothing. And this was a fine change from the street clothes that he had previously worn. Now fully clothed, and fed by the mysterious staff that wandered the residence, Canathael set off to find the other two that he had been traveling with. He knew that Maya's room was next to his own, but he was unaware of where Marrek had run off to, or where his lodgings were. He didn't need to wonder much furthur as he nearly ran into the white-garbed man in question head on as he stepped from his room. Canathael gave a start as he stepped backwards, but was caught by the upper arm in Marrek's firm grip, "Canathael. It's a bit early." He stated flatly, giving Canathael a rather cheeky once-over. The sorcerer shuddered under his gaze, "It is Sir Marrek," He replied dumbly, wincing at the grip Marrek had on his arm. "Pitty" The Jackal-like grin spread accross his face, as black eyes met green, "And I was just about to come and [i]wake[/i] you." Canathael squirmed against Marrek's grip, catching the meaning in his voice quite clearly. He didn't know much about this Marrek fellow, but he had a feeling that there was a bit more to him than what was seen on the surface. The grip loosened as the other man stepped back, a bored expression on his face, it seemed he already grew tired of torturing the sorcerer, "You should wake the girl, Gavin's gathering everyone..." He muttered before heading up the hallway with one last lecherous glance at the bewildered brunette. Canathael sighed walking the other way, towards Maya's room, not very far from his at all. He knocked on the door lightly, calling her name softly. When he heard no response he opened the door slowly, peeking his head inside. Maya lay currled quite comfortably amongst volumes of comforters and sheets that composed the snowy bed, she breathed in and out, quite slowly and softly, looking perfectly content. He almost felt sorry that he had to wake her. Moving over to the side of the bed, the sorcerer looked down upon his ally smiling saddly. She was so young it seemed, and too innocent for these worlds, for these missions. He looked about the room, realizing what they were about to do. They were about to go to war, to fight for someone they hardly knew, when they should be looking for their friends. Canathael sat down on the edge of Maya's bed, these saddening thoughts still running through his mind while he lightly brushed a lock of hair from her forhead. This day it seemed, was going to be trully testing.[/color][/size]

[size=1][color=darkred]I've looked and looked and looked and looked at this thing, and I think I'm going to sign up now.[/color] [color=darkslategray] Name: Eric Tudor Age: 27 Apperance: [IMG]http://www.stoned.com/jared/photos/requiem/0101.jpg[/IMG] Eric stands around 5' 11", sometimes appearing shorter due to a lazy slouch he habitualy developed through his teenage years. An unusually tawny man he hardly trains his body for strength moreso than he trains for flexibility. Biography: Eric Tudor came into the world alone one cold January morning, Natural Timeline era 1976. His mother, a "free-spirited" woman of her age, died giving birth to him, and his father was nothing more than a memory and a name to those that knew of his mother's assignations with the man. With no immediate family or close friends willing to take the child of one condemned a hippy, Eric (given his father's name) was given to a small orphanage tucked in a dirty little corner of New York city commonly called St. Luke's Orphanage. The child was raised in this time by Sister Angela Tudor, a young nun who took to loving the child, as if he were her own. She taught him things of faith, loyalty, and forgiveness, enlightening the young boy. Although her intentions were true, the violent world that grew around Eric would soon prove to swallow him. As a teenager, Eric became somewhat of a delinquent, such as running with gangs, spending endless nights becoming wasted and dissapearing for weeks on end. Yet he always returned home to Sister Angela, and worked hard at his studies always aiming to make her proud. Eric lived two seperate lives it seemed, a young man with good intentions who exposed himself to the violent world around him. An odd lifestyle, but one that suited him somehow. When Eric turned eighteen, his "foster mother" Sister Tudor became deathly ill. He began to spend more time at the orphanage, staying by her side, and quietly prayed when he had a moment to spare. Despite the prayers, Angela Tudor passed away, and Eric was once again left alone. Taking Sister Angela's last name as his own, Eric set out to change his life, doing something he knew that would make the sister proud, he would work for the good of the world, and work for the law. Eleven years passed since then, and Eric did well to make those who knew him proud. He flew upwards through the ranks, with quiet determination, and a steel will that no one could rival. Eric was reckless, true, but he had skill. Skill that attracted a most unusual job proposition. He was interveiwed by the commanding officers of a department that called themselves the TPD, or the Temporal Police Department. Without so much as a thought Eric accepted, feeling that he really had no other reason not to, it wasn't as if he had anyone to go home to at night. Eric says little of his upbrining, if anything at all. He's not one to be overly social, and at most times keeps to himself. Although quiet, he does have a large reserve of willpower and determination on his side, and he can be a little gun-ho and reckless at times. But, taking risks is second nature to one that feels they have little left to live for. [/color][/size]