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[font="Lucida Sans Unicode"][center][size="5"][u][b]Doctor Who: Zero Points[/b][/u][/size][/center] [size="2"]A long, thin strip of fabric fluttered out into the darkness and cold of space, whipping around itself and rippling as it went. [b]"Bow ties are most definitely NOT COOL!"[/b] Flames licked around the TARDIS console room as a youthful man dashed around, slamming his hands on buttons and yanking levers down as he went, causing sparks and clouds of smoke to erupt from the panels. His lightly-patterned shirt, which seemed at least a size too small, was open at the collar, the sleeves rolled up and his braces were hanging limply around his waist. He ran around barefoot, having kicked his boots off shortly before the bow tie had gone, and they lay discarded on the floor of the console room. The TARDIS was in bad shape, the doors hanging open as it hurtled through space, the central consoles aflame and the staircase leading to the other rooms had collapsed. Red lights flashed, and somewhere apparently in the distance, a deep, resonant bell rang, repeatedly and deafeningly. [b]"Come on, girl!"[/b] the man shouted, [b]"We're almost there!"[/b] He spun a small wheel round and grabbed a pair of levers, pulling down on them as hard as he could. He placed one bare foot on the console and yanked them downwards harder, using his whole weight to lock it down. The TARDIS made a familiar wheezing sound, and the man punched the air and whooped much louder than he ever would if there were other people around. He took a step back, yanked his sonic screwdriver from his pocket, aimed it at the console and activated it. The console exploded in a shower of sparks, and all of a sudden the TARDIS stopped moving. The man steadied himself, carefully checking around to make sure nothing else was going to happen, then closed his eyes and breathed a sigh of relief. [b]"Let's see what we've got here,"[/b] he said a moment later, rushing to the console and grabbing the pull-out shaving mirror attached to the central column and stared at his reflection. [b]"New hair...oh, lots of hair!"[/b] he exclaimed, running his hands through his shaggy mane of dirty-blonde hair,[b] "Blue eyes...I've always wanted them. Facial hair!"[/b] he shouted joyfully, rubbing his hand across his chin, feeling the light stubble covering it. He performed a few more cursory checks, running his tongue across his teeth, checking he still had all his limbs, noticing that he was slightly thicker-set than his previous incarnation, then rushed to the open door of the TARDIS. [b]"Stars...well, that's not entirely helpful,"[/b] he muttered to himself, before stepping over the threshold and falling flat on his face. On damp grass. He lifted his head slowly. [b]"Earth..."[/b] --- [right][i]"He's like fire and ice and rage. He's like the night, and the storm in the heart of the sun. He's ancient and forever. He burns at the centre of time and he can see the turn of the universe. And... he's wonderful."[/i] -Timothy Latimer, 1913[/right] [right][i]"I'm the Doctor. I'm a Time Lord. I'm from the planet Gallifrey in the constellation of Kasterborous. I'm 903 years old, and I'm the man who's gonna save your lives and all six billion people on the planet below. You got a problem with that?"[/i] - The Doctor (aged 903), 2008[/right] The Doctor. A name that echoes around the galaxy, burning in the stars of the Medusa Cascade and striking fear into the hearts of beasts and demons everywhere. In some languages his name means a wise man or healer, in others it means a fearsome warrior. Some call him a goblin, a trickster. Others simply know him as a mad man in a box. In truth, they are all right. For close to a millennia he has travelled through time and space, saving countless worlds, and raining down destruction on others. He is a good man and a hero to many. But now he faces his greatest challenge. Centuries ago, the Time Lords imprisoned a race known only as the Temparchs, dangerous creatures with the ability to manipulate timelines, in a time-lock. The Temparchs remained imprisoned for hundreds of years, while the Time Lords rose to greater power, then fell in a storm of fire and destruction at the end of the Last Great Time War. Two thousand years after their imprisonment, a single Temparch has managed to escape the time-lock and is searching for vengeance against the arrogant Time Lords who trapped them so very long ago. But there is only one Time Lord left, and he has fewer and fewer places to run. --- Welcome to Doctor Who, the latest collaborative RP from DeLarge and Vongola. This time we are delving into the already-established world of Doctor Who, and as you can see we've created something unique for you. If you choose to sign up, you will be playing the Doctor's companions. Due to certain constraints, this means that your characters will be limited to a few things: firstly, we can only allow (maximum) three players, although it would be more likely that we will accept two high-quality players. Secondly, they will have to be humans from present-day Earth. Thirdly, they will have to be from the same place on Earth, but this is something we can work out at a later point in the process. The majority of the story will be revealed once the RP proper begins, but we will be working through the messaging system a fair amount in order to ensure that, while we're all working towards the same goals, there are still a few secrets, even between the cast. To give you an idea of what we'll be needing in terms of your sign-ups, here is my profile for the Doctor: [b]Name:[/b] Unknown, but goes by the title "The Doctor" [b]Age:[/b] 1109 [b]Gender:[/b] Male [b]Home Planet:[/b] Gallifrey [b]Race:[/b] Time Lord [b]Race Characteristics:[/b] The Time Lords are an ancient and powerful race, gifted with the ability to time travel. They do this through use of living ships called TARDISes (Time And Relative Dimension In Space), which are grown on their home planet of Gallifrey and used by up to eight Time Lords. Time Lords also have a very long life span, and they are able to save themselves from death multiple times through the use of a biological process called 'regeneration', in which they repair every cell in their body, but at the cost of their physical appearance changing irreversibly. However, there are ways in which this process can be halted - either by the Time Lord himself halting it by choice, or if their body is killed in the middle the regenerative process. A period of twelve hours post-regeneration also has certain benefits: Time Lords are able to heal themselves to the point of regrowing severed limbs during this period. In some cases, regenerative energy can be used as a weapon during this period, with some Time Lords able to incapacitate several foes with a burst of regenerative energy. [b]Appearance:[/b] The latest incarnation of the Doctor stands at 6 feet tall, with a lean, sinewy physique. He has a shaggy mop of dirty-blonde hair, slightly darker sideburns and a light shading of stubble across his chin. His eyes are a striking, icy-blue colour, and small lines appear at the sides of them when he grins, and his smile is a little crooked. His outfit of choice consists of a black t-shirt, covered by a button-down burgundy shirt, the sleeves of which he usually rolls up to just above his elbows. Below the waist, the Doctor wears a pair of slim-fitting dark-blue jeans with a dark brown leather belt, and charcoal-grey and lightly patterned cowboy boots. When he is outside, he tends to wear a navy-blue American Civil War-era infantry jacket with brass buttons, although he rarely buttons it up. In terms of accessories, he wears a watch with a thick black leather strap and a silver-and-black face. It's not certain, but it is possible that the watch adjusts to tell the time on any given planet and in any given era he finds himself in. [b]Personality:[/b] The Doctor is something of an enigma. On the surface, he appears to be a youthful, jovial, somewhat hyperactive man, running about and talking [i]very[/i] fast. He has a habit of explaining things to people and expecting them to have the same level of knowledge as he does, something which is near-impossible, and he gets a little exasperated when other people's minds do not work as fast as his. To most decent people, he is a kind, good-natured man who would do whatever he could to help them out of a tough situation, and he has a particular soft spot for human beings, in whom he sees great potential. He also sees beauty in things which, to others, seem rather ugly or dangerous. For example, he would appreciate the finesse and craftsmanship with which a spaceship was built, even if it was on its way to destroy him. He is merciful, but only when things 'deserve' mercy, although he has recently come to realise that choosing which things deserve mercy and which do not is too great a responsibility for anyone, including himself. There is, however, a much darker side to the Doctor. He can seem arrogant, taking companions with him in order to show them the universe, but secretly feeding his own, not-inconsiderable ego. He also tends to put his companions into great danger so often that they begin to toughen up, before eventually, inevitably becoming his 'weapons' against the darkness, and many of them have perished because of this tendency. Similarly, while he seems friendly and jovial, he is prone to sudden outbursts of furious anger, particularly when lives are at stake, and this anger sometimes leads to violence. And when the Doctor gets angry, people inevitably die. Also, for all his great wisdom, he can be somewhat short-sighted, being led by his emotions rather than his more logical side, and this leads to him making mistakes. In short, while he would want you to believe that he is infalliable, the Doctor simply is not. [b]Equipment:[/b] Whilst he never carries a weapon, the Doctor carries a number of pieces of specialist alien equipment on him at all times. His most often-used gagets are as follows: [i]TARDIS[/i]: A living time machine, the TARDIS is grown from a coral, and is the main mode of travel for a Time Lord. Due to a malfunctioning chameleon circuit, the Doctor's TARDIS (an obsolete Type 40 TARDIS) is stuck with the exterior appearance of a 1960s police telephone box, but the interior is surprisingly much larger than would normally be expected. Not only is the TARDIS the Doctor's mode of transport, it is also his home, and the home of any companions he chooses to take with him, as it has a number of different rooms stemming from the main console room. [i]Sonic Screwdriver[/i]: The Doctor's most commonly-used piece of equipment, the Sonic Screwdriver has many functions. Perhaps the most useful of these is unlocking doors through generating a pulse of sound which vibrates at the same frequency as the lock, although this very rarely works on wooden doors. It can also be used to scan environments for any number of purposes, particularly to see whether the atmosphere is safe (although the Doctor can usually tell this by sniffing the air instead); and as a non-offensive weapon, used to deactivate electronic devices, usually through breaking them. [i]Psychic Paper[/i]: A small slip of paper, carried in a thin leather wallet, which, when shown to someone, displays exactly what the Doctor needs them to see. It has masqueraded as a number of things, including a housing reference from the Archbishop of Canterbury and any number of forms of identification, including being able to fool electronic devices and act as a swipe-card. It does, however, have its weaknesses: for example, people with even a low level of psychic training can see through the psychic paper's tricks, and it cannot support concepts which are too unbelievable (for example, it would not prove that the Doctor was a 'responsible adult', a lie too big for the psychic paper). However, he does carry any number of objects, both terrestrial and non-terrestrial in nature, in his pockets, including but not limited to a stethoscope, a wind-up mouse and a wooden mallet (although this is more commonly used to give unco-operative TARDIS consoles a whack than anything more threatening). [b]Special Skills:[/b] The Doctor is an incredibly intelligent being, having been alive for over a millennia and seen things most others could not believe. As such, he has an astonishing knowledge of alien races and cultures, although sometimes he believes he knows too much, as it often takes him some time to remember the things he knows. Similarly, he is fluent in a number of alien tongues, although this skill is helped considerably by the translation matrix in the TARDIS, which projects a low-level psychic field into the minds of its occupants which allows them to understand any spoken language. He is also a talented diplomat, having spoken down any number of potentially-violent races, although often this is just through talking as much as he can. And that is the Doctor's main talent: his mouth. He has been described as 'silver-tongued' on many an occasion, and is able to both build armies up, and strike them down with just his words. He also has a fearsome reputation, one which he uses to his advantage: he has convinced powerful alien forces to flee at the mere mention of his name, although this is something which he is not entirely happy about: he wants the name 'Doctor' to be associated with good, not evil, which it is more and more frequently. --- Obviously, your sign-ups won't need the 'Race Characteristics' section (I'm hoping we all know what the characteristics of a human are!), but they [i]will[/i] require high-quality writing throughout! Similarly, your 'Equipment' will be purely terrestrial objects, unless expressly discussed with us first. Once we have ascertained whether there is some interest in this RP, and if so who has signed up, we will be in touch regarding your character interactions in the first part of the RP. As always, if you have any questions then please don't hesitate to get in touch with myself or Vongola, and we will do our best to answer them! Otherwise, we look forward to reading your sign-ups![/size][/font]

[size="1"][i]Time is a relative aspect in the world around us; it ebbs and flows without so much as any consideration for the world around it. She is neither cruel nor is she kind, she is simply there and does what she was meant to do. The world however, is cruel and heartless to the beings it creates, as if it was playing a universal game to satisfy some sort of deep desire to see other creatures suffer. The maliciousness of it all curdles the blood and makes every- [/i] The sound of a throat being cleared caused the young man to look up from his writing and look back over his shoulder to a figure looking him in the eyes. The red color of the eyes fluctuated as the light struck them; he saw the mischievous grin on the other manâ??s face and that knowing look behind those crimson gaze that made him sigh. [b] â??What is it now? You have disturbed me several times since I started this journal.â?[/b] He shrugged his shoulders as he kept his grin on his face. [b] â??Oh you know, just that you are too serious about what you write. I mean, itâ??s your journal, no one will read it, except me of course. I do need to proof read your work since I know how much you fumble with your words.â?[/b] The young man set down his pen then, looking forward again as he placed a hand to his face and massaged both temples before letting out a heavy sighs. The other man stepped away and put his hands behind his back, leaning against the nearby wall as he waited for the other to get out of his moment. [b] â??Others will read it, for the next person who gets stuck with you will need to know everything they can about what I know.â?[/b] He rolled his shoulders in a shrug again, the grin never leaving his face, only changing slightly as his eyes showed what his true thoughts were. [b] â??You can only tell so much; any child of yours who inherits me will have to learn plenty of it on their own. I mean, if you ever have a child that is. It has been quite a long time since you have done well, you know what.â?[/b] He winked at the young man at the table, hearing the exasperated sigh from him before letting out a small laugh. The young man threw up his hands then, the frustration and annoyance clear on his face as he spoke to the red eyed being. [b] â??I swear, you are far more infuriating then anyone I have ever met!â? â??Well, I am one of the few people you actually socialize with, so thatâ??s not entirely true.â? â??By god, you drive me insane Azriath! Let me finish this damn thing already will you?â?[/b] Azriath held up his hands then, disarming the situation with his cool smile and his calm demeanor. The young man going back to his work, picking up the pen again as he look intently at the page, seeing what Azriath had meant and flipped to a blank page. He sat quietly for several moments, no longer paying attention to whatever Azriath was doing or that he was looking over his shoulder from a distance this time. When the words came to him again, he set the pen to paper and began again. [i] I know this world seems confusing, I know everything can quickly fall apart if youâ??re not looking or it could be torn apart by the closest friend. But you should know that everything gets easier in life, and that for our family, it is much easier at times than others. Iâ??ll start at the beginning, when everything came into existence, when we were all nothing but children to an old world. Back then, when the history of mankind was still fresh and we were still naive to the dangers of the world, we thrived as a community. But, as time went on, as we advanced and we grew as a culture and a society the dangers began to appear in our world. Beings of pure darkness and shadow emerged from the depths of the forest, from the darkest places in our simple cities and towns. The Malagai were monsters we had never seen before, never encountered in any of our conquests or wars. They did not discriminate on who they maimed, slaughtered and fed upon, they simply killed any human they could find, and they took whatever life they could. We advanced and we grew as quickly as we could, as much as we possibly could in order to combat these creatures. It proved to be futile; our only salvation was the day light hours, when the creatures would recede into their dark world. In time, as things continued to grow worse, the Church appeared then. They promised us salvation, they promised us a way to a safe existence without the Malagai. And for a short time, they came through on their promise; the creatures seemed to lessen in their attacks, they were harder to come across as less people vanished into the night. Our technology, however, continued to grow as the outlaying areas still fought off the monsters, the Church still provided a heavy influence but we continued to advance. But as many skeptics and heretics said, it was only a matter of time before the Malagai appeared again in full force. They tore through our ranks, killing thousands of people every night as scientists and the Church looked for ways to combat the Malagai as they continued to kill without fail. Science soon failed to produce answers; our technology and advancement couldnâ??t fight the monsters. In our time of need and in our final moments of desperation, the Church turned to ancient texts, scrolls of old that showed another method to fight the Malagai[/i]. He pulled away from his writing then, holding the pen casually in his hand as he looked over the words. Doing his best to imagine what had gone through the heads of the clergy when they had rooted through those old books, when they had found the scrolls that spoke of ancient magic that held their salvation. The thought soon turned sour and bitter as he could clearly see how they had turned on their creations without a second thought, simply hoping that they would fade from time. He looked up to Azriath and let out a heavy sigh as he dropped his pen and put his hand to his face again, rubbing his forehead in annoyance. [b] â??What in the name of the Malagai Darum are you doing?â?[/b] His eyes focusing back on the demon before him, balancing a book on his nose with a candle holder on top of it. Azriath didnâ??t look from his balancing act as he shifted his body every so often to maintain his trick. [b] â??Iâ??m just trying to keep myself entertained, I mean, I could just do that one thing you hate so much. What was it again?â? â??Please donâ??t do it, I swear I will send you outside if you-â?[/b] He threw up his hands then as the book and candle holder fell to the ground as an old man stood before him now. He suddenly laid down on the ground, putting the back of his hand to his forehead as he wheezed and spoke in a raspy voice. [b] â??Iâ??m dying Jim, Iâ??m dying!â?[/b] Azriath did not get any further in his act before he was struck with a book, crashing into his chest as he curled up into a ball as he let out a groan while clutching his chest. His form shifting again as he returned to his previous identity, still lying on the ground as he continued to feign pain and let out a small laugh in between groans. [b] â??You sir, need to take a nap. You seem rather grumpy, maybe grab a cookie while youâ??re at it Fieri.â?[/b] Another groan escaped Alfieriâ??s lips as he dismissed Azriath, returning back to his work and letting his attention fall back into the telling of the world they lived in. He took up the pen once more, leaning over the leather bound papers and began once more, letting the words flow through him again. [i] The details of what they found specifically have been covered up and hidden from the public eye, but to those who discovered the texts and those who the power was used on know the truth. In our time of greatest need, it was a worthy cause and a noble idea to continue our species, especially against a threat that seemed indestructible to everything we had. What they found was older then some of the Church's earliest written documents, this alone showed its potency as the spell did not crumble with time. The spell detailed an intricate ritual that, when done right, bonded the soul of a human with a being from another realm. The bond could only be created by a human who had a truly willing spirit and a being that desired to join our world as a physical manifestation. The process of bringing two souls together in this way was met with very little success, the human aspect too weak to maintain the bond or to withstand the overwhelming presence of the other soul. The ones who were strong enough to survive, showed that their bonded spirit was sometimes ravaged by the other beings powers. So, the spell was crafted with fail safes directed at the foreign entity, conditions being placed on the being that controlled their power to safely flow to the bonded human. These select few people became known as Pact Bearers, and even though their were only six humans who took on this duty, they were more then enough for Malagai. With their power, they ripped apart the creatures, none could find refuge in their dark worlds as the Bearers partners could follow them any where. Now, when they were originally created, the Church believed that the foreign beings were angels descended from the high heavens. But, this was wrong as it became clear that the beings that they used, were of a different origin. Several in the Church, who knew about these events, saw it as divine justice for what they did to the Pact Bearers after their task was done. I believe that they simply found a reason to exile monsters from their â??perfect worldâ?? and did so with extreme prejudice. They knew they couldnâ??t out right kill the Pact Bearers, being more powerful then any human on the planet. They decreed holy laws upon them, forbidding them from ever passing on their â??curseâ?? to any offspring they might have. Other laws were decreed as well, laws that forbid the use of power when their authority was revoked. Anything they could come up with that would make the Bearers submit to the Churchâ??s rule. Another such law forbid communication between Bearer and their demon counter parts, attempting to remove any temptation. Most of the Pact Bearers followed these laws without question, having been so broken by religious dogma and teachings to go against the Churchâ??s words. But, one Bearer chose to ignore the words of the people who gave him his power, he instead chose to do what the others would have thought was abhorrent to their â??moralâ?? code. He chose to befriend his demon, to learn about him and to understand what he wanted from this pact and what he truly desired in his existence. The demon made his intentions clear to the Bearer, he simply wanted to stay in our world, to live in the sun instead of perpetual darkness and nothingness. Of course things never start easily, but, as time went on and the other Bearers drifted farther from their demons, he grew closer to his. It didnâ??t take much for the Bearer to break the laws decreed upon him by his Church, starting a family in secret with a woman he had fallen in love with long ago. This Bearer was Eliodoro, and he did what the Church forbid him from doing by passing his power on to his children, and their children and so on and so forth. The other Bearers lived and died as they were told, and because of that their demons vanished from this world along with whatever they had to offer. The demon, known as Azriath, became a guardian for the family of Eliodoro and with time passed he became a dear friend and a member of their family. Now, as time went on and Eliodoro passed on from the world, his children inherited Azriath, the power following with it as they all partook their own journey through life. Some were cautious and sparing with the power given, others used it for selfish needs or whatever they desired. As the family spread out and the blood line thinned out through out the grandchildren, and the great grand children and the other generations born, Azriath would be transferred to the one who was the most worthy. My name is Alfieri dâ??Eliodoro; I am a descendant of Eliodoro and with the passing of one of my family members years ago I have inherited the power of Azriath and all of the problems with him.[/i][b] â??Hey, I resent that last remark there Fieri.â?[/b] Azriath looking over his shoulder once more, a puppy dog look on his face as Alfieri looked over his shoulder slightly. [b] â??You resemble that remark, I only wish their were better words to describe what I truly feel.â? â??Is it love, compassion, kinship, OH! Maybe it is undying admiration!â?[/b] Alfieri gave a slight smirk then. [b] â??Close, but try frustrated, aggravated or anything you can think of that follows along that train of thought.â?[/b] Azriath crossed his arms, a pouting face following as he scooted away and plopped down on a chair in the corner, turning away from Alfieri as he hid the grin on his face. Alfieri held on to his victory, knowing that they did not come often but were always memorable when they arrived. He looked back to the journal, his eyes scrolling over the words as he tried to think of anything he could write that did not break the rules of the pact. He sighed once more, this time a more content one as he set the pen down and and closed the book before him. Rising from his seat, the chair slid out form under him and scrapped across the ground, making Azriath turn and rise as well. [b] â??Iâ??m going for a walk. Care to join me for some time in the cool night air?â?[/b] Azriathâ??s eyes brightened up, and a large smile grew on his face as he tried to straighten his clothes even though he never had a single crease anywhere. As his hands moved, Alfieri could hear the light clink of the blackened metal shackles around his wrists. The broken links on both wrists made the clanking sound, as did the ones around his ankles when he walked. Each shackle was a physical representation of one of the conditions placed on his powers to keep him in check. Once he had finished his inspection of his attire, the two took off into the night, the current Bearer and his demon companion, the demon walking slightly behind him. [b] â??You know you could use a computer to document everything right?â?[/b] All that could be heard was another groan and a smug smirk on the demons face as the two walked under the pale moonlight. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Welcome to The Last of the Pact Bearers, the world we will be roaming around in is shaped just like our Earth. The continents are the same, the cities are more or less the same, the population is not quite as high as our own as it is closer to 1 billion rather then 7 billion. History has been altered since the Malagai appeared, mankind has only been focused on surviving the creatures and for a long time it has been a hard fight. The Malagai aren't extinct, they are however significantly thinned and reduced to such numbers that they no longer bother major cities or large towns. Methods have been developed through all sorts of means to help defend from the creatures, a means to kill them was only found through the Pact Bearers, the rest of the population was given ways to simply halt or defend against the Malagai. Now, this rp will be different in the fact that there are only two Protagonist, Alfieri (Vangola) and Azriath (Me). Everyone else who joins, will be against the two for their own reasons and their own purpose in mind. Your lives don't need to revolve around the apprehension of the two (unless of course that is your mission) and can expand whoever you want, but over all your ultimate goal is aimed toward the Pact Bearer and his Demon. Now, Hope you all enjoyed the read and here is your sign-up. [b] Name:[/b] (Anything will do here, it can be modern it can be ancient, doesnâ??t really matter.) [b] Age: Appearance: Personality:[/b] [b] Power: [/b](This can vary on how you have your powers, were you born with them, did you have to make a deal with some creature to obtain your power? Magic isn't the strongest in this world, extravagant power only comes from making Pacts with demons and only the Church has that information) [b]Skills:[/b] (Most, if not everyone had a strength somewhere. This world is different than ours, had to survive and thrive in your own way. Cultures also have changed with the Malagai, not everyone is under the thumb of the Church or lives within the major cities.) [b] Weapons:[/b] (Weapons vary from swords and shields, to pistols and rifles. No weapon is stronger than another; it all just comes down to the person wielding them.) [b]Motivation/Purpose:[/b] (What is your motivation for hunting the demon and the Pact Bearer? Do you believe it is divine justice, or are you out for personal gain? Whatever you want, you can put it here.)[/size]

[color="#000080"]Ali walked through the hall, heading towards her room, and stopped as a recuirt stopped and saluted. She merely rolled her eyes and waved the young man off feeling a pang twist her heart as he reminded her of someone she knew. Closing her eyes she continued walking til she reached her destination, pulling out her key card she swiped it and pulled her wallet out to replace it, pausing as she caught sight of the picture folded up and tucked away saftly in the folded leather. Shaking it off she walked inside and instantly held up her hands as three voices began to talk to her all at once. "Alright, you know the rules, one at a time. Neos, you first." Lily scoffed and crossed her arms. "He always goes first." The three year old turned and stuck his tongue out at her and faced his mother again and grabbing her hand and pulling her down to his level. Her son never ceased to amaze her, he was smarter than any three year old she had ever heard of, already speaking full sentences, and able to do simple math, but beyond that his power made her shiver. He was powerful, able to create and destroy with simple motions of his hands. She frowned as she began to think about another person she knew who was able to use a power similar to that. It made her stomach turn uncomfortably, she was still shocked by how much guilt she felt and how many feelings were still left...even after three years. She came back and listened as her son talked to her about school and everything they did, once he was finished she looked over at Tank, her adopted son, his was taller now at the age of 16 and he looked so much like her husband that not many people believed them when they said they adopted him. He gave her a broad smile and a large, warm hug that lifted her feet off the floor. "Hey mom." "Hello love. How was school?" "Good." "Football?" "Good, Rock finally beat me." "Did he? I bet he was proud." "I broke his armor." Ali choked on the water she had just began to drink and looked over at the young man. "You'll have to tell your father." He nodded and walked away and she smirked as she saw a large sandwhich in his hands, she looked down at Lily, the young 13 year old girl staring up at her with a frown. "How come they went first?" "Because, you decided to throw a fit. What have I told you?" "Be patient." Ali nodded and cursed as her phone beeped at her, she looked down at her adoptive daughter and kissed her forehead. "I have to go, got a call. Tank dinner's on you tonight buddy!" She could hear Lily groan about him making nothing but pasta as Ali slid from the room and began to walk down the hall stopping for a moment to glance at a door on her left, shaking her head she continued walking til she reached the Commandant's office. Entering no one said anything to her as she walked to the back and leaned on the door frame, her heart warming as she looked in on him, his large frame bent over his desk as he tried to seal something. "Would you like some help love?" Demetri looked up and gave her a large smile making her melt alittle on the inside. "You know me...all thumbs." She walked forward, shutting the door behind her, and wrapped her arms around him kissing him deeply. "Not with everything." He chuckled and thanked her as she sealed the envelope, she leaned on his desk and looked up at him. "So what was the call for?" "We found one of the gods. Get the team together. We leave in four days." She nodded and left walking back to her own office to send word to the other bases. We are the HDF, Human Defense Force; we hunt all things that crawl in the dark, and even some that lurk in the shadows of the day. We are soldiers and we protect human kind from the monsters that hide under their beds. There are four bases in all and we are deployed all around the world for the soul purpose of protecting man kind. Our latest task has been harder than ever, three years ago a mad man unleashed Egyptian gods, we managed to kill him but the gods remained roaming free and now, we know where they are and we're planning on sending them home. Sound like a big order? Well the biggest thing about us you have to know, is we have powers. We were all born with an extra DNA strand that allowed to evolve further than humans. Some of us can control emotions, others can control metal while the stronger one among us can control elements such as wind or fire, and even tap into another dimension to use a power close to magic. We are the HDF, and we hunt what lurks under your bed. And we don't do it for fame...as far as the world knows, we don't exsist. When things go bump in the night....we bump them back. Name: Alex Talon Age: 26 Appearance: [url="http://i106.photobucket.com/albums/m277/impheatus_ss/anime/ino_izayoi_no_hanayome_kiryuu_iyori.jpg"]Alex[/url] She has a small, circular scar on her chest, between her breasts, as well as a larger one on her back between her shoulder blades, both of which reminders of her work, another scar on her right lower back, above her hip. A tattoo covers her left shoulder balde and a small light blue mark graces her right cheek, almost like a tear trail. Usually in jeans and a tank top when not in unoiform, always in combat boots with open fingered gloves. A small cross now sits high on her chest and a pair of silver rings lay on her left ring finger. Personality: More open than she used to be she is still somewhat closed off and rough around the edges, she laughs more than she did three years ago and she enjoys more but she's still serious when not behind closed doors. Power: Empath/Telekensis. Her powers having grown over 3 years to the point where she can implante memories into a person mind or even her own making them believe whatever image she implants with in their mind. Weapon: A close range fighter she uses hand to hand having given up the raiper a long time ago for a pair of curved daggers. Able to kick a full grown man a good foot when at her max. She also carries at least two cases full of throwing knives on her at all times. No Bio, we were never born. lol [/color]

The disease. Green flu, or as commonly called 'the Infection.' It spread like wildfire, and with no cure let alone one possibly being created to stop it. It was just too fast. It was the fictional zombie apocalypse in the cheesy horror flick made real. But rather than being undead, they are living humans who have been Infected by the Green Flu virus, causing massively increased aggression and loss of many higher brain functions such as speech and self-preservation. Ground Zero for the infectious and virulent virus was in Pennsylvania, but there is little hope of recovering any data pertaining to the matter from the hospital that treated Patient Zero. Supposedly, depending on who's speaking, the green flu epidemic was airborne, and others claimed it spread through being bitten or scratched by the infected. A few even claim the disease was found in livestock. Few humans were immune to the green flu; still carrying the virus but showing no symptoms. Normally, once a person became infected, the person would display rabies-like symptoms while rapidly losing higher brain functions and becoming increasingly hostile, attacking those still uninfected with the disease. This led people to think that green flu was a sister strain of the rabies disease. But whether it was or wasn't still remains unknown and highly speculated. The time it takes for an individual person to turn into one of the infected seems to vary from person to person, ranging from four days to a matter of seconds. But the disease itself also causes rapid mutations in some host bodies, while leaving others as mere rabid humans. Thankfully, these special infected as they are called are rare, though more common than one would like to believe. The CEDA (Civil Emergency and Defense Agency) was involved in responding to the the Green Flu epidemic. They created advertisements alerting the public about the disease, tried to evacuate citizens from highly infected areas, and even researched the disease though to no avail. All of these were eventually overrun with the infected. Eventually, CEDA disappeared, becoming either infected themselves or abandoning the public. Most presume only the higher-ups did the latter, leaving all the rest of the organization to the former. In the case of Common and Uncommon Infected, as they have come to be called, observed aggressiveness manifests itself primarily in the form of frenzied physical blows and kicks. Bite attacks are of a secondary nature and may even be incidentally delivered. The Infected primarily attacks uninfected humans who have attracted attention through noise, movement and displaying bright lights. It is unknown whether other sensory stimuli such as smell or color variation trigger attack responses. Common Infected are also frequently observed displaying mutual aggressiveness towards one another. However, these attacks are not shown when the Infected finds an uninfected human, they focusing on the uninfected to kill their target. The Infection might also have changed their physiology. Some infected suffer instant fatal tissue damage, and dismemberment from moderate blunt force, yet they can still jump down from heights of approximately 20 feet with perfect physical coordination and without harm. They have no fine motor control and their gross motor control functions are heavily degraded, thus rendering them incapable of picking up objects and operating simple mechanisms such as door handles, though this is contributed mostly to the loss of higher brain functions. When passive and unstimulated, Common Infected lean against a support (such as a wall), sit, lie recumbent or stagger aimlessly in short uncoordinated steps. Many will vomit profusely or display visual signs of being unwell (e.g. slumped over cradling the head). Uncommon and Common Infected tend to be less inert in their passive state since they are invariably observed to be in a standing posture. When active and stimulated,both Common and Uncommon Infected undergo a rapid transformation during which their speed of movement is rapid, their gait is highly coordinated and focal direction unerring. Uncommon Infected display the same behavioral qualities with the exception that they appear to be more sensitive to external stimuli and are thus more easily aroused and provoked. While they seem capable of ignoring pain, they can still be killed easily, with Uncommon Infected only marginally more difficult to kill, due to gear such as hazmat suits or riot gear. Even clowns wearing squeaky shoes are a part of this classification, as the squeaking of the shoes will attract more of the Infected. All Infected are capable of climbing ladders and scaling objects, as well as breaking down weak walls and doors, though fortified doors they have no ability to bring down. However, while individually they are easy to kill, in massive groups they can easily overwhelm a small group of survivors. These massively numbered groups of infected are referred to as hordes. Usually, a horde is attracted by the sounding of loud and/or high pitched noises or bright lights. The Infected appear to lack a sense of self preservation, as they will actively charge into flames, explosions, jump off from high buildings, and charge against the superior forces of those uninfected and their weapons.They are often seen engaging in bizarre activities (e.g. vomiting, attacking inanimate objects, fighting each other, showing that the sickness may still be affecting them even in this state, even perhaps killing them rather than keeping them as Infected) when unaware of the uninfected, but begin to rush at the uninfected the very moment they see them. Very rarely, an Infected can be seen facing a wall and making mumbling noises, as if talking to itself. Many believe the virus has affected the brain to the point of when only the most basic of instincts is still retained.The Infected are not known to feed or drink, however, they can still survive, and it is possible that the Infection has removed the mental ability to perform these necessary life functions. This may indicate that the Infected may eventually die of starvation or dehydration, and possibly even exposure to the elements as the Infected do not seem to seek shelter in conditions that non-Infected would. Also evident possibly from the loss of higher brain function is an ability to completely ignore pain and damage (including dismemberment) when in the known presence of the uninfected. If shot from a distance, they have been noted to hold their wounds and cry out, obviously affected in some way, though whether perhaps it is just out of surprise or actual pain is unknown.If nothing else, they seem to have some grasp of their current situation, or at least how they feel; generally, idle Infected act physically ill, holding their heads and vomiting as they shuffle around slowly. Occasionally, if you watch one long enough, one of the Infected who is holding their head may begin to writhe in pain, or they may simply lie down and sometimes die without being shot or punched, suggesting that the virus is deadlier than it seems. It is also possible that after Infection, they have a limited life span, just like how people infected with rabies have a limited lifespan if left untreated. It could also be through brain hemorrhaging, as Infected appear to bleed out the ears and eyes. This would also explain why they hold their heads in pain some of the time. The Special Infected are hosts of the Infection that have been heavily mutated by the Infection, giving them "special abilities." In rare cases, individuals show extensive physical and mental changes after infection. In such situations, these Special Infected are physically stronger than Common Infected and have experienced some sort of side-effect or mutation that results in a unique ability. The symptomatic mutations are very distinct per Special Infected type, indicating a person-to-person variation in reaction to infection. There are an infinite number of speculations that can be made about the exact cause of mutations for the Special Infected. Each generally has a unique ability that one person cannot face alone, making them the true teamwork testers.They are not attracted by car alarms or loud noise and have a higher degree of intelligence than Common Infected, being able to run away if required and setting up ambushes. They are also more aggressive than the Common Infected, as they will actively attack Survivors rather than passively sitting in a stupor until disturbed. Below is a list of the known Special Infected. [b] The Smoker[/b] has been heavily mutated by a strain of the Infection and frequently makes high-pitched rasping and coughing noises that can alert Survivors of its presence. Though it resembles most Common Infected, it is taller, more durable, and its skin has become covered in growths that cause little spurts of green smoke and blood to ooze out when shot. It is said that the smoke it expels gives off a putrid smell, but it is otherwise harmless. The left side of its face is bloated and appears to be covered by a large tumor.The Smoker is an Infected with a long, whip-like tongue. The Smoker's tongue can be launched out of its mouth at high speeds, and when it reaches one of the Survivors, it automatically wraps around the target's body and drags him/her back towards the Smoker. If any obstacles block the victim from being dragged to the Smoker, he will choke his target instead. The Smoker claws at an ensnared Survivor when they are dragged all the way back to him, while at the same time the Survivor takes damage from the tongue constricting them if an obstacle obstructs them from being dragged to the Smoker. If a Survivor isn't dragged all the way back to a Smoker due to an obstruction (eg. a Horde surrounding the Survivor), the Survivor will only suffer potential strangulation from the tongue's squeeze. When killed, a Smoker leaves a haze of dark green smoke, obscuring the vision of the Survivors and causing them to cough if they stand in it. Some have suggested that the mutated "tongue" could actually be intestines. Occasionally, when killing the Smoker, hundreds of feet of "tongue" will spew from its mouth, supporting the intestines theory. A second theory is that the Smoker had cancer (probably tongue or throat) before becoming infected. This is supported by the fact that cancer occurs when a cell or group of cells mutate to the point the hayflick limit breaks, so the cells don't stop reproducing. Since there are cancerous growths all over the Smoker's face and upper torso, this may be true. Smoker mutations in regard to cloud of smoke they emit upon death may occur as a result to someone who is/was a heavy smoker. Higher levels of cancer or tar in the victim's lungs could inhibit complete exhalation and fill the respiratory track with â??smoke.â? Higher concentrations of the â??smokeâ? in the body may facilitate further mutations. [b]The Hunter[/b] is the least visibly mutated Special Infected and superficially resembles a Common Infected. However, many Hunters seem to be fond of wearing hoodies and various kinds of workout clothing. It has yet to be explained how the Hunter's mutations onset, whether it be genetic, biochemical, or a Hunter-specific strain of the virus, but the mutations seem to be gender-linked as only male Hunters have been observed, similar to how only female Witches have been seen. The Hunter's reaction to the Infection has granted him an increase in lower-body strength. While not creating massive muscle growth like the Tank, this added strength has given the Hunter the ability to repeatedly jump and pounce from long distances and rapidly scale the sides of buildings with ease as well as toughen it's legs in order to withstand the great distances and heights it can achieve. Decreased pain response visible in all sufferers of the Infection also results in the Hunter not suffering from perpetual lactic acid buildup from muscle overexertion or impact damage after experiencing a large fall. At the same time, there seems to be some sort of muscle delay after an initial attack (post-attack recharge) where the Hunter is not able to move as swiftly. One of the most notable physical observations is that the Hunter lacks eyes. Whether this is self-inflicted, a byproduct of the Infection, or both is unknown. What remains of his eyes emit the white reflective glow displayed by Common Infected in the dark; although this effect may be light reflecting off the blood constantly leaking from his eye sockets. The extent of damage to the Hunter's sight suggests his other senses are far more developed than those of typical Infected, allowing him to hunt with far greater efficiency. It is possible that the screeching noises he makes and the growling are his own echolocation method. He might also use scent to tell the Survivors apart from Infected. As with the other Special Infected, he is not distracted by such high frequency noises as Pipe bombs or car alarms going off. Hunters also appear to be the only Infected with a self-defense reflex: when shot at a distance and knowing it cannot pounce, the Hunter will sometimes jump away into safety. Hunter Mutations may occur due to interactions with elevated levels of lactic acid in the muscles and bloodstreamâ??a result of heavy exercise (presumably from a continuous exercise-heavy lifestyle, such as parkour; fleeing from an Infected Horde is rather heavy exercise, but this alone would produce a large number of Hunters). [b]The Jockey[/b] is quite unfortunate in that his infection has caused the him to develop a large amount of muscle mass on his upper back and neck, making him hop around in a spider monkey-like motion. His fingers and toes have increased in length, adding to his baboon-like profile. His lips, and the skin surrounding them, have deteriorated away, giving him a more skeletal look at the mouth area. This could possibly be due to him chewing and biting away at his lips because of mania, or possibly even clawing at his mouth due to the same reason. His hands are curved downward like a praying mantis, the arms are sticking out straight, and they have a coat of what appears to be blood. The hands are always twitching and shaking (the right one twitching notably more often than the left), and he doesn't stop laughing until death. He has a gibbering vocalization, and cackles hysterically while riding a Survivor. The Jockey is a Special Infected that has animal-like characteristics. The Jockey can use his ropey frame to jump long distances at a time, and about 15-20 feet when leaping upward. Though it can not jump as far as the Hunter, it does not have the need to crouch to charge up the ability. When the Jockey lands on a Survivor's head, he grabs onto them. He claws at the Survivor with his free hand while leaning in a direction to cause the Survivor to stumble. Again, the clawing does not do as much damage as the Hunter does. Jockey Mutations may have resulted from someone who was confined to a wheel chair. The obvious regenerative properties (mutations and growths) of the Infection could indicate a restoration of spinal cord function, giving the infected person the ability to walk again. This would explain the hunchback appearance and the emotional mania. A separate speculation suggests that the Jockey's mutations may be comparable to the Hunter's, paired with some form of dementia that either was already present or developed as a result of viral brain damage. [b] The Tank[/b] is an exclusively male Special Infected who has experienced the most extensive physical mutations of any other class of Special Infected. The most obvious trait is its extreme hypertrophy, or abnormally increased muscle mass. It can be assumed its bones have become stronger too otherwise the Tank's skeleton would have collapsed under the weight of its own body. Despite its enormous bulk, the Tank is incredibly fast and agile, able to keep up with even a healthy Survivor. This abnormal muscular growth is most obvious in its arms and upper body and less pronounced around the Tank's waist, hips, and legs. Though the Tank's legs are capable of supporting its static weight (such as when the Tank mounts a rock throwing attack), the Tank's disproportionate anatomy forces it to knuckle-walk like a gorilla, resulting in the Tank's wrists becoming swollen. The Tank's body is covered with numerous scars and lesions from previous fights. The Tank's jaw at first glance seems to be missing, but upon closer inspection it is shown to be enveloped within its thick neck muscles. The Tank has also suffered either heavy brain damage or a rabies-like cerebral infection, resulting in the Tank being in a constant state of unbridled rage, even more so than most other Infected, and its response is to attack any human survivor on sight. Once the Tank has fixed a target, nothing short of death can stop him; bullets and explosives will not make him flinch, fire only slows him down (unless playing campaign in Left 4 Dead), and the sound of pipe bombs and car alarms won't distract him (though in the Left 4 Dead intro, it is a car alarm that alerts a Tank). The Tank will even smash down doors, knock away obstacles, and plow through entire crowds of Infected just to bare down on an unlucky Survivor it has chosen as a target. Tank Mutations are possibly related to body building supplements. Abnormally high levels of Creatine, Human Growth Hormone, and anabolic steroids (possibly produced naturally from some damage by the infection) could interact with the virus to promote tumor-like growth of muscle cells. If left uncontrolled, muscle mass would increase exponentially to the point where complex muscle movements are lost or limited and only basic movements (shuffling, climbing, thrashing, slow throwing, etc.) are possible. [b]The Charger[/b] is a large Infected, close to the Tank in height and about half as wide. Unlike the Tank, the Charger's legs are capable of supporting all of its weight, and thus stands mostly upright. His hairless skin is a deep greenish-gray in color, perhaps secreting pus. The Charger's mutations appear similar to the Tank's mutations in terms of increased muscle mass, though more asymmetrical. Most notably, the Charger's right arm and shoulder have grown to a massive size and had increased in thickness, resulting his right hand becoming a swollen lump with stubby fingers. His left arm, inversely, has atrophied to the point of being useless (possibly from his body breaking it down to add bulk to his right arm), hanging limply to the Charger's side and flapping around like a T-Rex arm with every movement. His legs are less visibly affected by mutation, with only his left leg gaining any sort of extra bulk (to the point of ripping whatever pants he is wearing) while the right leg's proportions remain normal. The leg mutations are possibly to balance the Charger, equalizing the weight distribution throughout the body. Due to the Charger's preferred method of attack, it always appears to have sustained multiple injuries, especially on his right armâ??prolonged times of bashing and slamming into walls has made the flesh of the Charger's right arm thick with calluses, scabs, and scars. The right half of his face is also visibly damaged, his cranium possessing a massive dent, and half his face torn off, revealing his skull and jawbone. His nose is completely removed, and his dangling left arm shows signs of necrosis. Most likely a result of his constant charging, the Charger also lacks teeth.The Charger is a Special Infected that knocks down any Survivors in its way. The Charger's main purpose is to separate a group of Survivors who are tightly joined by grabbing one and crashing into the rest of the group, sending them flying through the air. Surprisingly faster than one would expect of its encumbersome mass, this increase in speed leads to a slow stop and impossible in turning left and right. Charger Mutations are similar to the Tank and could mean that the Charger is a hybrid version of the Tank. Some steroids are used as an anti-inflammatory remedy for a rash or growth on one side of the body. An abnormal interaction with a localized and smaller concentration of steroids could have created the Charger. It might also be a reaction similar to gigantism (where excessive amounts of growth hormone is released, resulting in thickened bones and asymmetrical body structures), given that the Charger's facial features and overall body shape is similar to that of someone with gigantism. [b]The Boomer[/b] is an extremely bloated Special Infected. The Boomer usually has clothing stained with sweat and puke and stretched to the breaking point around the Boomer's enormous gut.The Boomer has undergone extreme external and internal mutations by some adverse reaction to the Infection. The most notable observation of the Boomer is its extremely bloated belly, most likely caused by its stomach (and possibly most, if not all of its gastrointestinal system) being hijacked by the infection to overproduce bile in massive quantities. The sheer tension on its skin and organs has resulted in a breakdown of the epidermal and dermal layers, causing the skin to become thin and fragile. In some places the skin has even ruptured, exposing some of the bile-filled internal organs. This enormous buildup of internal pressure makes the Boomer quite vulnerable to any outside agitation, as even the slightest gunshot wound or melee shove will result in the Boomer to violently explode, sending blood and bile everywhere - hence its name. Other physical mutations observed include massive boil-like growths that appeared upon its skin and face. Whether this is due to overproduction of bile is unknown. Similar to the other Special Infected, it is not distracted by high frequency noises. When idle, the Boomer makes loud burping and gurgling noises which change to loud groans when it sees a Survivor. Its mutation has caused it to produce vast quantities of bile which it attempts to vomit on the Survivors temporarily blinding them and summoning a small Horde. Though fragile and slow, the Boomers can be dangerous to a Survivor team whose health or combat abilities are compromised.The Boomer's bile has a unique chemical binding effect with infected and/or non-infected flesh which produces an extracellular stimulus. This chemical stimulus induces a pheromone-like attraction from nearby common infected which causes them to swarm and attack the bile-saturated source. The exact nature as to why this induces a negative response is unknown but the response is non-discriminatory between infected and non-infected flesh (i.e. using a Boomer bile vial on the Tank triggers the same violent response against the Tank). It should be noted that typically common infected have been known to exhibit an extremely basic form of logic (hence their ability to recognize non-infected). The bile-flesh response seems to trump this logic, which could mean that the stimulus is extremely intoxicating for the common infected. Boomer Mutations probably relate to abnormally-high levels of fatty tissue or cholesterol in the bloodstream, which would also explain the large amounts of bile they produce. Bile is created to aid in the breakdown of lipids (fat). The human body's natural bile production would have been assimilated as part of the Infection's mutation. This would explain why, when Boomers burst, their torsos appear to be largely hollow. The space previously occupied by fatty tissue had been broken down and converted into a single, enormous sac for containing and producing bile. [b]The Spitter[/b] itself's lower jaw, cheeks, nose and lips seem to have become noticeably eroded, suggesting she may not be entirely resistant to the acid she is continuously coughing up. It appears that all around her mouth, the skin has disappeared, as well as the jaw become unhinged, the flesh separating nearly to her ears. Also, just above her breast and on the top of her stomach are two red sores, most likely eroded spots from where the acid drips down from her mouth. Her proportions are awkward and stretched, including the sagging breasts, elongated neck and bloated stomach, which are most likely used to accommodate and produce the fluids. Her elongated neck may also give her the advantage of being able to spit acid at long distances. Her baggy skin and stumbling gait could be caused by the virus or even the acid itself eating away at her connective tissues. The big toe on her right foot has shifted to the side of the foot like the thumb of a hand. While running, a trail of acid can be seen dripping from the Spitter's mouth. This can be used to track the Spitter, although it disappears shortly after she walks away from it.The Spitter's mutations enable her to spit out a ball of mutated stomach acid which, upon hitting the ground, spreads out into a large pool. Through mutation of the Infection, the Spitter has developed the ability to project an extremely corrosive ball of acid from her mouth in a mortar-like fashion. This projectile will collide with a ceiling or wall and drop down to the nearest solid walkable surface, and upon contact will spread into a large puddle of acid that increases in damage over time. It's possible, from the way the acid is spat, that the Spitter encases it in a thin sort of membrane or bolus (likely in her body or throat/mouth) which is either dissolved by the acid or breaks on impact. It is evident that the infection has caused the spitter to suffer from mega esophagus, or her stomach has eroded all organs found in her neck. This could be the cause of her hacking and gurgling, as acid could be in her lungs. From how heavily the Spitter secretes the acid, it seems that she cannot stop producing at will, and must excrete it from her body in such fashion (as salivating it) to prevent herself filling up and rupturing with acid, similar to the Boomer. Spitter Mutations may have resulted in infecting a human subject with a helicobacter pylori infection (bacterial ulcer). Cells previously infected by the bacterial agent may have been consumed by the virus and caused it to mutate. Another take suggests that the mutations might be similar to the Boomer, except the hormone gastrin (responsible for making stomach acid) is hijacked, resulting in Spitters being able to create large amounts of acid. The Spitter's sagging skin and awkward walk may be caused by the acid leaking into other bodily cavities and breaking down tissues. It can also be noted that the Spitter's skin glows a luminous green when alive, yet when killed, her skin becomes a normal pink color. This could be due to all the acid being spontaneously released from her body upon death. [b]The Witch[/b] has a typical physique of an extremely thin young woman with pale skin, sunken glowing red eyes, and a bloody mouth full of sharp teeth.She is strangely always clad in the remains of a tattered tank top or t-shirt and a pair of panties, and she does not wear any shoes. Her choice of attire when compared to other Infected could indicate a raised body temperature such as a fever, which could also explain the sluggishness, constant signs of distress, irritability, and sensitivity to light and sound. Her most distinctive features are the twelve-inch-long, bloodstained claws her fingers have grown into. Her knees and feet are often stained with dirt and blood. It is also unknown whether or not the Witch is extremely thin because of the Infection (weight loss due to starvation) or if this was her body shape before the infection took place. Despite her petite figure, the Witch has incredible strength and stamina, enabling her to incapacitate or instantly kill Survivors in one hit, although the Witch is the only Infected to display an initially passive response to the presence of Survivors. She is highly sensitive to light and the close presence of uninfected humans. Shining a flashlight on a Witch or approaching too closely will "startle" her and trigger an attack. Hitting her with a bullet has the same result. She is totally unresponsive to Infected and the passage of nearby bullets. When alert to the presence of an uninfected human or flashlight, she will look in the human's direction and make a low warning growl: this signals an incipient attack. If the human backs off, switches the light off or moves quickly out of her presence, she will fairly soon settle back into a passive state. But if the threat persists, she will launch an attack directed at the human who "startled" her at great speed, singling out the person who provoked the attack. She is able to incapacitate her victim instantly whereupon she frenziedly slashes that person with her clawed hands, only stopping if either she or the victim die. If an attack is successful and she is still alive, she will run off sobbing out of sight. She will display the same behavior if her attack is frustrated (e.g. the victim is able to outrun her), again she will give up and run away. Killing a Witch is not always required, since survivors can often sneak around her or wait until she wanders away from their intended path. However if she is immobile because it is dark and it is not possible to go around her, the only option is to work out a plan to kill her. Witch Mutations seem related to an abnormal mental state which could indicate a predisposed mental disorder, like Autism, ADHD, Serotonin imbalance in the brain, etc. Neurotransmitter imbalances are theorized to be a cause of Clinical Depression. She is known to cry when not aware of the Survivors, although the reasoning behind it is unknown. It's likely she is incredibly depressed - a symptom that could accompany her loss of sanity or that the virus has not taken full control and she knows she is a monster and is depressed due to this fact and when a survivor is to close or turns a flashlight on etc. the effects of the virus infecting her brain start to take over and cause her to rage out of control however briefly. Now, in a world gone to ****, you must face all of this and more against the Infected. You are somehow immune to the disease, or perhaps you're just a Carrier. You'll be starting off in Newport, South Carolina. It's three weeks after Patient Zero. the green flu has infected everyone you ever knew, some have been forced to kill their own families in order to survive. You have managed to make it so far, and have met up with other survivors. You are in the Mason West Memorial High School, hoping that it was a safe evacuation point, if only to find it has been overrun and long since evacuated. The next evacuation point is located at the city hall, nine blocks away. What awaits you? Can you make it? Alrighty folks, here's the sign-up: Name: Age: Gender: Occupation: Gear: (what do you have on your person? The only limitation is how much your bag can carry) Back story: (here is where you explain how you've survived the infected's relentless assault, up until meeting with the others at the school)

[color="#8B0000"][u][i][size="4"][b]The Darker Side[/b][/size][/i][/u] (this is a mature rp) [size="2"]For years I have watched this vicious circle go over and over again. Demons invade the lives of humans and the angels come to stop us. Yet the Devil doesnâ??t do a damn thing about it. He has all this power and doesnâ??t use it, he just sits there on his throne perfectly content to not use his power and would rather torture the damned souls here and send demons, my brethern no matter what rank, size, type, or clan they come from to their death. The amount that has died in this stupid war would have been enough to invade Heaven easily, but no he sends us out in small groups where we just get easily slaughtered. We have all these strong demons here with incredible power but do we use it on anything else but each other and the damned. No we donâ??t. We sit here in this fiery labyrinth not doing a god forsaken thing. Yes I know we donâ??t have the same amount of power on the humansâ?? plane of existence because it doesnâ??t have the same hatred and death but that could easily be changed. Iâ??m going to change it. Iâ??m going to end this circle. Heaven will fall. The angels will lie dead at my feet. The humansâ?? will worship me. I will be the one on the throne. Its time the future took a darker side.[/size] ============================================================================================================================================================================================================================================== [size="2"]Mavon looked at his human form, snarling with disgust. Here he was, the pure breed son of two of the seven commanders stuck in a pitiful humanâ??s body. Unfortuantly it was the only way to travel in this plane. It was only a matter of time though. He scanned his surroundings. He was in an alley way surrounded by rundown buildings. Suddenly he heard a chanting reach his ears. Cultists. He was exactly where he wanted to be. He had spent almost a hundred years planning this. First was to get people to worship his name. It was how demons got power from outside of the Devil. He let out a smile, running his tongue along his sharp canines. The time for change was at hand. Though he had to hurry. It would only be a matter of time before demons came looking for him. Whichever ones he couldnâ??t bring to his cause would have to die. Ten years later. A group of humans lay chained at his feet unconcious. Though Mavon knew they werenâ??t humans, they were demons sent to find him. Luckily the cult had accepted him instantly and worshipped his name and made human sacrifices for him granting him power he had never felt before. The cult had quadrupled over the years and since his arrival he had them on the lookout for more of his kind. So far none of them had accepted him so he cut them down. In a fair fight of course and absorbed their essence into him. Hopefully these would be more likeminded. â??Put them in the holding cells with constant watch. Be sure to attach crosses to them.â? He ran a hand over Shade's head. His dogs were the first thing he was able to bring into this realm thanks to the cultists summoning them. That and the generous amounts of blood that was sacrificed during the ritual.[/size] ============================================================================================================================================================================================================================================== [size="2"]The constant circle of good winning is over. The world will take a darker picture. Its now the demons turn to let their hatred and violent natures be used like they were supposed to. This is one of the few rps that at a certain point you will have unlimited power if it makes it that far. Here you can let all your twisted fantisies come true [b]Name:[/b] Your demon name [b]Personality:[/b] Please make it cruel and twisted. You are a demon from the pits of hell after all [b]Appearance:[/b] your fragile human shell you currently hold since your not able to change yet [b]Demon Appearance:[/b] For when you do change [b]Weapon:[/b] your demonic weapon of choice. You wont start off with it but it will come soon. [b]Power:[/b] Please vary and be unique. They will get extremely strong as time goes on allowing you to cause as much chaos as you want. Be sure to have a lesser power that you can use in the beginning some not extreme. [b]Weakness:[/b] Even demons have their temptations [b]Bio:[/b] Just a little about your demon self. Be creative about your ties and birthright in hell. The more you put in and the more backstory you have the more ideas it will give me. Feel free to have ties or previous conflict with any other character that joins. [b]Name:[/b] Mavron [b]Personality:[/b] Power thirsty to the extreme. He has a calm exterior but is twisted and bloodlusting to the highest degree. He thrives off watching others in pain and loves being in control. He is quick and manipulating, getting what he wants through words more then force. Calculating and analyzing always sizing up everyone and thinking out each possible outcome to every move he makes. Extremely lustful/ [b]Appearance:[/b] [url="http://www.flickr.com/photos/jaimevera11ymailcom/5266108758/"]Mavron with Shade and Greed[/url] [b]Demon Appearance:[/b] [url="http://www.google.com/imgres?q=demon&um=1&hl=en&safe=off&sa=N&biw=1366&bih=561&tbm=isch&tbnid=-FMdeeNnAvAFvM:&imgrefurl=http://www.prizrakk.ru/Photos-get_foto-num592.html&docid=lmNKYOc1WgdgMM&w=640&h=516&ei=cZxkTsj1LYTcgQfV1tixCg&zoom=1&iact=rc&dur=3&page=1&tbnh=103&tbnw=146&start=0&ndsp=24&ved=1t:429,r:2,s:0&tx=33&ty=53"]Mavron Demon[/url] [b]Weapon:[/b] Shade and Greed turn into the two double bladed swords he carries in the pic. [b]Power:[/b] Controls and manipulates fire in every way possible at full power. His words also drip of poison seeming to penetrate deep inside and convincing humans, demons, and angels to do his bidding. But to do this he must be touching them for it to work. [b]Weakness:[/b] He has a soft spot for women. His lust has been known to get in the way quite a few times. [b]Bio:[/b] A pure breed from two of the commanders that guard the Devil which gave him a high standing in the heiarchy but his thirst for change made his give it up along with all of his luxuaries in hell. He had everything he wanted but his plan became so firmly rooted in his head that everything became boring. The totures of the same souls, the battles of fighting other demons. It became old over countless years.[/size][/color]

[center][b]FAIR WARNING: THIS RP WILL CONTAIN VIOLENCE, GORE, SEX, AND ANYTHING ELSE THAT MAKES A STORY ANY GOOD.[/b][/center] [center][img]http://i119.photobucket.com/albums/o159/pjmckrafty/TheAurors.jpg[/img][/center] I donâ??t know exactly what happened that night. No one really does. We moved back and forth between triumph and utter destruction, like a wicked pendulum. The last thing anyone can recall, that has any true merit to it is this â?? Voldemort marched on Hogwarts with the â??Boy who Livedâ?? in tow, except this time he didnâ??t escape with only a scar. No, this time he was dead, sprawled in Hagridâ??s arms like a doll. But then it happened, fast and chaotic, spells flying everywhere, green intermingled with red, a sword flashed, a snake hissed its last breath, and the â??Boy who Livedâ?? disappeared. Some would say later that he leapt from Hagridâ??s arms and then disappeared with only a cursory glint of silver from what was rumored to be an invisibility cloak. The battle continued, Death Eaters versus students and the foolish few who had come to defend the hallowed grounds of Hogwarts. It seemed like the tide was slowing turning, like the battle might be won by the students. As I made my way into the Great Hall, into the epicenter of the fight, I saw it. Voldemort was fighting Harry, one on one, their two wands flashing brilliantly as they struggled for their lives. Harry suddenly made a feint, and then physically launched himself towards the Dark Lord. Latching onto his robes, Voldemort screech as the two figures melded into one and spun in on themselves, apparating from the spot. Death Eaters and students fell eerily quit as their figureheads disappeared. They was a tense moment of silence, then the foundations of the school themselves shook. There was bloodcurdling scream and a wave of green light. Students and Death Eaters alike began falling, the life in their eyes going out. No one remembers much of anything after that. Screams. Flashes. Pure horror. As far as I know, no one escaped â?? no one but me. And now Iâ??m hidden, away from you, away from him, away from the world. I alone know how he has become what he is today, but there is no way for me to tell. If I do he will find me, find me and kill me. Iâ??m risking everything just sending this. Hopefully you find me before he does. Please. -Neville Longbottom, July 5th, 2005 --- He turned to face us, his red close cropped hair flaring in the dim lighting. His left hand subconsciously checked right sleeve of his robe which was pinned against his side, hiding his lost right arm, before coming to a rest on the table. [b]â??We received this message two days ago,â?[/b] he sighed, his long years weighing heavily on him. Despite his age of a mere 29, he looked more around 40. The obvious toll of his life did make him a commanding presence, however, and everyone in the room sat up a little straighter as he turned. [b]â??Until that day, I had thought I was the only one who survived that battle,â?[/b] the commander continued. [b]â??Apparently I was wrong. Longbottom survived, and knows something that we can use.â?[/b] [b]â??Mr. Weasley, are you sure thereâ??s a chance that Longbottom is still alive? This isnâ??t a trap?â?[/b] someone in the back chimed. There was a moment of silence as everyone waited for the commander to respond. [b]â??There is,â?[/b] Weasley started slowly, [b]â??but thatâ??s a chance we have to take. Any information that we can use at this point is our only bet. Otherwise, we might as well just wait for Him to come kill us, because God knows weâ??re losing this war. And weâ??re losing badly.â?[/b] There was another moment of silence as the commander let the reality of his words sunk in. [b]â??Iâ??m sending in a team of international Aurors to investigate this. Those of you going have already been informed. You are the best from your respective countries and now itâ??s time to prove it. You will start at the source, the Hogwarts ruins, and continue from there, hopefully following the trail of Longbottom. â??I am the sole remaining member of my family line,â?[/b] Percy Weasley said, his tone turning somber, [b]â??but I do not wish to be the last. What you Aurors do on this mission might well determine the fate of all those who oppose him. Our hopes go with you.â?[/b] --- This story is an AU where the Battle of Hogwarts did not end well. There are no survivors of the battle (save for Percy and Neville) and Voldemort has not been seen publically since. However, his influence has been felt â?? he now controls the British Isles save for a few pockets of resistance and his influence in rapidly spreading over the globe. The International Magic Union, a loosely formed coalition of Aurors and rebels from around the world based out of Iceland, is the last remaining opposition to total take over. You are one of the members of the squad tasked to find Longbottom. The fate of the Wizarding World, if not the whole world entirely, rests upon you. --- [b]Name:[/b] [b]Age:[/b] I want people to be established Aurors. At an extreme I would go twenty-three, but I am looking for a more mature and skilled group. [b]Nationality:[/b] Anywhere but Britain [b]Physical Description:[/b] Realistic picture (meaning no anime or sprites) or a detailed description. Keep in mind that we are an underground group so our clothes would be more Muggle than wizard. [b]Personality:[/b] [b]Wand Description:[/b] Wood, Core, length, and all around appearance. [b]Skills:[/b] Tell us what skills make you an asset to the team. [b]Writing Sample:[/b] Demonstrate your writing skills, just give us a glimpse of your character as a person and a bit of their past. My sign-up will follow after I see some interest. I will post a backstage soon, with a timeline of events and where you can ask all the questions your hearts desire. And a special Thanks to Makurayami for co-producing this with me and setting up the back story.

[b][center][size="6"][font="Lucida Sans Unicode"]The Throwaways[/size][/center] [size="2"]WARNING: THIS RP WILL CONTAIN VIOLENCE, LANGUAGE AND SEX, AND IS THEREFORE DEFINITELY NOT FOR THE FAINT-HEARTED. IF YOU ARE OFFENDED BY ANY OF THE ABOVE, TURN AWAY NOW. IF NOT, COME ON IN![/b] [right][i]"Power tends to corrupt, and absolute power corrupts absolutely. Great men are almost always bad men."[/i] - Lord Acton, 1887[/right] [center][b] -Twenty-one years ago-[/b][/center] Fluorescent strip lights hummed, suspended from the high, vaulted ceilings of the long, narrow underground room, casting their pale, sickly light over the wooden workbenches and the equipment scattered across them. Large glass cases filled with dark, slowly-shifting shapes lined one wall, and a thin, hunched man with a dirty white lab coat draped over his wizened frame shuffled along the rows of cases, looking carefully into each one as he passed, scribbling rough notes on the battered clipboard in his hand. [b]"No change,"[/b] he whispered, his voice hoarse, and tinged with disappointment. He looked deep into one of the cases, with a yellowing label in the corner which read "Subect #003", and softly tapped his finger against the glass. The shape inside stirred, moving towards the front of the case, and pressed itself up against the glass. It was a small, male child, seemingly no older than eighteen months, now pressing his hand against the glass and blinking his large blue eyes at the old man. The old man's narrow mouth curled up into a smile, and he pressed his index finger against the glass, where the child's hand was pressed on the other side. Suddenly, the door to the room exploded open, and two metal canisters flew in high arcs through the air and clattered to the ground, smoke gushing from them and engulfing the old man. He choked on the acrid smoke and blinked as he saw bright red beams shining through the gloom, the ends dancing around his chest. [b]"Step away from the case!"[/b] came a booming voice, echoing around the room, but the old man was disoriented and confused, and he stuck to the spot in his panic. He heard more shouts, then sound exploded in his ears, and his chest exploded where the lasers had been aimed. He fell slowly to his knees, then slumped to the ground, blood pumping from the chest wound. [b]"Target down, we have secured the hostages!" [/b]were the very last words the old man heard as darkness clouded over everything... [center] [b]-Eleven years ago-[/b][/center] [b]"You're such a freak,"[/b] spat the unusually muscular young man, wiping the smear of blood off his knuckles as he stood over his smaller, weaker classmate, who had sagged to his knees under the weight of the first punch. Blood was dribbling from his nose and top lip in a steady flow, and he could feel the place where a bruise was bound to form around the bridge of his nose. He blinked to hold back the hot tears he could feel welling up in his eyes and struggled slowly to his feet, blocking out the jeers and insults of the crowd that was surrounding the fight. [b]"Why don't you just leave me alone?"[/b] he murmured, flecks of blood spraying to the floor as he spoke, [b]"Please, just leave me alone!" "What the ****, Slate? Are you crying?"[/b] asked the bully, barely stifling his laughter and leaning back on the metal school gate,[b] "Slate's a little *****, everyone!"[/b] The crowd started laughing and jeering louder, and the twelve-year-old felt his anger building inside him, but unlike all the other times this had happened it seemed like something tangible. His breathing grew heavier, and he turned, his whole body trembling, to face the bully. The school gate which he was leaning on was rattling, and the bully moved away from it, advancing slowly on the angry young boy. [b]"Now you're spazzing out on us? What next, are you gonna piss your pants?"[/b] he snarled, and at that moment the smaller boy flung his hand out, and the metal gate swung open violently, slamming into the bully's back and sending him to the floor with a thud. A moment later, he pushed himself to his feet, his face now bleeding more profusely than his victim's, pure anger etched across his face. [b] "You're ******* dead!"[/b] he scowled, but then he noticed the weaker boy slumped back down on his knees, still trembling, and decided this particular victim wasn't worth his time, and walked away, but not before spitting a mouthful of blood and saliva onto the boy's back. [b]"Asshole."[/b] [center] [b]-Five years ago-[/b][/center] The alarm screeched, echoing around the marble lobby of the bank. The group of men in black combat gear hefted sports bags full of money out of the vault, assault rifles slung around their shoulders. Bank customers were lying on the floor, covering their heads with their arms and shaking, some of them crying in fear, hoping not to be shot like the man who had tried to stand up to the robbers a few moments ago. Suddenly, the glass doors of the bank exploded inwards, sending shattered glass flying across the lobby, and a dark-clad figure swooped in through the gap where the doors had just been, landing on the floor in front of the lead robber. He was a tall, almost unnaturally muscular man dressed from his neck to his feet in a thick black leather jumpsuit, with a black mask over his eyes. [b]"What the **** is this?"[/b] spat the lead robber,[b] "A ******* superhero?" "You're damn right, asshole,"[/b] replied the newcomer, slamming his hand into the criminal's chest and sending him flying across the lobby, slamming hard into the wall with a loud crack, and slumping to the floor. The rest of the robber watched this, shocked, and began firing their assault rifles at him. The man moved so fast all that could be seen of him was a black blur, dodging the bullets and attacking the robbers in quick succession, knocking them all to the floor and disarming them. The hostages began to shakily get to their feet, in awe of the man who now stood in front of the pile of money. [b]"Who...who are you?"[/b] asked the man closest to him. [b]"I am The Patriot!" [/b]he boomed, standing tall, hands on hips. [b]"You're...a superhero?"[/b] [b]"The first of many, ma'am. The first of many,"[/b] he said with a smile as cameras flashed from outside the bank. [center][b] -Six weeks ago-[/b][/center] [b]"The country is in a state of panic,"[/b] said the reporter,[b] "The Big Five, those superheroes we have all known, respect and loved for the past five years, have seemingly turned on the country they supposedly protect. Many people have been killed in what is now being called "The Rebellion", there has been an extensive amount of property damage and people are living in fear. It is expected that the President will be forced to hand power over to The Patriot, who is now heralding himself as the One True Leader of America..."[/b] The reporter was cut off mid-sentence by an enormous fist slamming down on top of the television, crushing it almost flat. [b]"Fuckin' news!"[/b] growled the owner of the large fist, a similarly large man, covered in rippling muscles and a suit of sleeveless red armour,[b] "Makin' out like we're the bad guys just for takin' what we deserve!" "Well...we are the bad guys now, Freight Train,"[/b] said a slender, blue-haired woman as she slinked past. [b]"Hydro-Girl's right,"[/b] said a young man crouched on an armchair in the corner of the hotel room, [b]"By all definitions of the words, we are the bad guys." "And don't you just ******* love it?"[/b] said The Patriot, a wide grin across his face and a devilish glint in his eyes. [center][b] -Two weeks ago-[/b][/center] The young man's boots slapped on the hard concrete as he ran full pelt across the rooftop, breathing hard as he moved. A few feet behind him, a man in a grey suit and holding a handgun ran at a similar speed, although his movement was somewhat hindered by the nature of his clothes. Leaping over the gap between the building he was on and the next one, the young man rolled as he landed and continued to run, his arms and legs pumping. The suited man followed him over the gap and landed harder, skidding a few feet across the ground as he landed, before getting up and continuing his pursuit, only stopping to aim and squeeze off a few shots at the young man. Concrete exploded by his head as the bullets just missed, and he reached out as he ran, spotting a metal pipe lying on the ground, which flew into his hand as he ran. He ducked behind an air-conditioning unit on top of the building, wielding the pipe like a club, and swung out as the suited man rounded the corner, slamming the pipe into his chest and knocking him to the floor. [b]"Stay away from me!"[/b] he panted as he stood over the suited man, who lay on his back gasping for air, his gun now just out of reach. The young man flicked his hand out, and the gun skittered away across the rooftop. He turned to walk away and leave the suited man where he was, when something stung his neck. He reached his hand up and found a small plastic dart stuck in his neck. He yanked it out, but it had already deposited it's payload into his bloodstream. [b] "Oh ****..."[/b] he murmured as he lost consciousness, dropping to the floor hard, just making out the two suited men stepping into his vision as he blacked out. --- We live in a world where superheroes are very much real. America was protected by the Big Five, five of the most powerful supers in the world: The Patriot, Starlighter, Hydro-Girl, Freight Train and Oracle. That is, until they went rogue and began attacking innocent Americans, and using their powers for their own personal gain. But this is not their story. At least, not yet. Twenty-one years ago, Special Forces stormed an underground research lab where an informant claimed experiments were being carried out on children. This information was proved true, the scientist involved in these experiments was killed in the operation, and all twelve children were recovered. The nature of these experiments was unknown, but the children were both unharmed and completely healthy. Unfortunately, their parentage could not be ascertained, and thus they were all relocated to an orphanage run by a woman named Alexandra Foster. In the following years, some were re-homed, but others remained in the orphanage until they were old enough to move out and find their own ways in life. For all intents and purposes, their upbringing was normal enough, except for one thing. When each of the children reached puberty, they manifested strange abilities. For example, Subject #003, real name Jonathan Slate, developed the ability to control magnetic fields with his mind, and Subject #009, real name Katherine Bell, manifested the ability to pass through solid objects. For the most part, they managed to keep their abilities secret, but in the past twelve months they have been disappearing without explanation, abducted by men in grey suits. This is their story. --- Welcome to The Throwaways, a brand new original superhero story. There are a number of mysteries to be solved in this RP, and answers will come steadily throughout. However, you should have everything you need to know thus far, aside from the sign-up, which is here: [b] Subject Number:[/b] (between #002 and #012, excluding #003 and #009) [b]Real Name:[/b] [b]Codename:[/b] (this will not be used at first, but it is important for later in the RP. Make sure it is relevant to your abilities) [b]Age: [/b](this will be either 22 or 23, sorry for the limitation but it is important for the story) [b]Appearance:[/b] (as with all my RPs, a picture or a detailed description is great, both is fantastic) [b]Personality:[/b] [b]Powers/Abilities: [/b](make this reasonable - think X-Men, anyone that I consider to be overpowered will not get in. Also consider that, while we've had these abilities for 10 years or so, we've never received and formal training, so you won't be very good with your powers) [b]Writing Snippet:[/b] (write a short piece describing how your powers emerged - see my "Eleven years ago" section for a guideline) [b]Other Skills:[/b] (can you fight? Pick locks? Anything helpful that is not a facet of your powers will work here) I will post my character sheet once I've seen some interest in this, either here or in the Backstage thread which I will post momentarily. If you have any questions, comments or queries then don't hesitate to let them be known![/font][/size]

[center]I should start off by saying that this RP will have no direct connection plot-wise to any other season of Digimon. Consider us the first and only Digidestined.[/center] [center][size="7"][color="#696969"][font="Times New Roman"]A DIGITAL ADVENTURE[/font][/color][/size][/center] My name is Wyatt Crescent, a 17 year old boy from Tokyo, Japan. I was attending summer camp when the strangest thing happened. After an out of place Aurora Borealis appeared above one of our cabins, it began to snow! There were only a few other kids with me to see it, but before we could run and get everyone else some strange glowing devices floated down into our hands from the sky. Immediately following that, a huge tidal wave crashed into us out of nowhere and sucked us all into a huge whirlpool! [center][media]http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7cSB1IZU_8U[/media][/center] So we've been called to the Digital World because there is a great evil rising that is a threat to Digimon and Humans alike and we must stop it. The first few posts will be us waking up in the Digital World, getting acquainted with each other and our Digimon, followed by them digivolving to Rookie form to protect us. That's when I'll get the story ball rolling and everyone can just start adding on to it. [b]"Episodes"[/b] All the posts are going to be sorted by Episodes. They are mainly going to be there just to tell you who is Digivolving at the end of the episode, if any, and that they should be the one to resolve the episode's conflict that anyone else writes. Besides that, there won't be any restriction on who posts in what episodes and how many times. [b]Sign-Ups[/b] Digimon is a tricky franchise to create sign-ups for because they've got all these preexisting Digimon all with their own stories already. Since this RP isn't connected to any other Digimon series, I'm going to bend the rules a little bit. [u]Guidelines[/u] [list][*]You can mix and match Digivolutions of Digimon, even if they aren't technically supposed to Digivolve to/from the other. [*]If you do change around Digimon, make sure there is at least a consistent theme within the Digivolutions (i.e. lizards, birds, fire, etc). [*]You [i]can[/i] change the level of a Digimon (i.e. making a Champion Digimon your Ultimate), just make sure it seems plausible. [*]Digidestined Digimon can be chosen. I don't see why not. [*]Armor Digivolutions from Season 2 are acceptable. There's [url=http://digimon.wikia.com/wiki/Digi-Egg_Digivolution_Chart][color="#48D1CC"]a lot of them[/color][/url] that weren't even used. Feel free to use them as a Digivolution for your Digimon. You can make them a Rookie, Champion, Ultimate or Mega, I don't really care as long as it seems plausible (i.e. . [*]On the topic of Armor Digimon, I realize now there are other forms of Digivolution from later seasons that I don't know much about (DNA Digivolution, Biomerge, Spirit Evolution, X Evolution, etc). Feel free to use those Digimon too (even the ones with the X-antibody), just follow the same guidelines above. [*]And that's all! Don't pick any of the 5 sovereign Digimon and save all the evil Digimon to use as bad guys. ^_^[/list] [u]Sign-Up Sheet[/u] Digidestined [b]Name:[/b] Your characters name. [b]Age:[/b] Anywhere between 7 and 18. The Digital World chooses children for a reason. They have an incredible amount of free time. ;P [b]Gender:[/b] M/F [b]Appearance:[/b] Picture and/or physical description is fine. [b]Background:[/b] A little bit about your characters history, personality, likes and dislikes, etc. For the sake of continuity we are all from Tokyo, Japan. [b]Supplies:[/b] What supplies were you carrying when you were sucked into the Digital World? [b]Crest:[/b] What is your characters crest? This is your characters most valued virtue. It can be anything good, really. Digimon [b]In-Training:[/b] Name: Picture: Attacks: [b]Rookie:[/b] Name: Picture: Attacks: Personality: [b]Champion:[/b] Name: Picture: Attacks: [b]Ultimate:[/b] Name: Picture: Attacks: [b]Mega:[/b] Name: Picture: Attacks: [quote][size="1"][u]My Sign-Up[/u] Digidestined [b]Name:[/b] Wyatt Crescent [b]Age:[/b] 16 [b]Gender:[/b] M/F [b]Appearance:[/b] Wyatt is of average height with a slightly athletic build. He has long shaggy blonde hair and hazelnut colored eyes. He wears a white, unbuttoned dress-shirt over top a white tank top. This is accompanied by a leather belt and tight blue jeans. See [url=http://believe-in-music.deviantart.com/art/pirate-anime-boy-150426262]here[/url], just add the white tank top underneath and take out the bandanna, knife and tattoos. [b]Background:[/b] Wyatt has always been a carefree boy. He never lets anything slow him down or stop him from reaching his goal. He's incredibly cheerful and loves to talk to nearly everyone, cracking a joke here or there. He's hard to control and often runs off on his own when he sees something interesting. Before the Digital World, Wyatt was an average student with regular grades. He didn't participate in any after school clubs and instead spent most of his time just wandering outside. He was actually forced to go to Summer Camp by another Digidestined who happened to already be his friend. [b]Supplies:[/b] The backpack Wyatt is seen holding contains the following items: a compass, a box of matches, a first-aid kit and a canteen of water. While Wyatt is not the most prepared person in the world, his mother who backed his bag is. He also has a small notepad and a pencil for doodling, something he doesn't do a whole lot, but enjoys while he's waiting for something. [b]Crest:[/b] The Crest of Curiosity Digimon [b]In-Training:[/b] Name: Pinamon Picture: [img]http://images3.wikia.nocookie.net/__cb20090417132941/digimon/images/4/4a/Pinamon_b.jpg[/img] Attacks: Piripiri Spark - Emits a small electric charge from its tail. [b]Rookie:[/b] Name: Falcomon Picture: [img]http://images3.wikia.nocookie.net/__cb20101022054818/digimon/images/b/b4/Falcomon_b.jpg[/img] Attacks: Falco Rush - Unleashes an attack using its powerful running ability. Personality: Falcomon is very dissimilar to Wyatt in personality. Falcomon is very laid-back and likes to relax a lot. She cannot fly (only glide), something she constantly complains about, and likes to lecture Wyatt on being careless. Falcomon, however, is also very intelligent and knows a lot about the Digital World and all the Digimon in it. [b]Champion:[/b] Name: Harpymon Picture: [img]http://images4.wikia.nocookie.net/__cb20090320015561/digimon/images/6/62/Harpymon_b.gif[/img] Attacks: Wind Seeker - Flaps her wings to release gusts of wind so strong they cut like knives. [b]Ultimate:[/b] Name: Darcmon Picture: [img]http://images4.wikia.nocookie.net/__cb20090205055023/digimon/images/c/ce/Darcmon_b.jpg[/img] Attacks: Dancing Sword - An elaborate sword attack using her two swords "The Maiden." [b]Mega:[/b] Name: Phoenixmon Picture: [img]http://images3.wikia.nocookie.net/__cb20090127183451/digimon/images/4/46/Hououmon_b.jpg[/img] Attacks: Star-Light Explosion - Solemnly flaps its four wings, causing it to rain golden grains that are said to purify all of the wickedness of those who suffer this technique.[/size][/quote]

[i]The sky cast an ominous red hue that seemed to tell a tale of a heaven bathed in blood... [/i] If only those that saw it had known the truth behind that sky, if only the prophets of old could have warned them of what was to come. Maybe that tiny bit of preparation could have been enough to save them from the coming war. Unfortunetly nobody knew, nobody had been warned of the impending doom. The war for the souls of mankind had begun, and nobody knew...nobody except those that died in the initial conflict.... Fallen angels were those that gave up their 'holy' blessing in hopes that they may go to earth, not as a harbinger or to sing praise of god's graces. These angels went to earth in search of one thing, to become human. The first fallen is the most well known of them all, Lucifer. His hatred of humans and refusal of power forced his father's hand, and being sent down into the abyss amassed power over all things evil. He created demons out of fallen souls to serve as his minions in hell, and once in awhile on earth. This is the way it was to be; that is until a fellow angel, Jeremiah, began digging through the ancient scriptures and discovered the truth that lucifer took with him to hell. A truth that would shatter the loyal followers, and could rightly spark a war in heaven. Jeremiah kept the word of Lucifer to himself, and began preaching to the multitudes that would listen. He eventually gained enough support to launch a rebellion in heaven that surpassed Lucifer's rising to power. The battles raged on for over a millenia, until finally over the smoke and smoldering ruins of heaven stood only Jeremiah, Michael, and Gabriel. Knowing he himself did not stand a chance in defeating the two arch angels, two of gods original sons, Jeremiah sacrified his 'holy' and thrust himself down to earth to find the only being who could finish Gabriel and Michael and claim heaven for the wicked...Lucifer. [i]Fallen.....Fallen it is time to awaken. The world is being pulled apart, and only you are able to stop it. [/i][i] [/i]The message rings in your head over and over again as you go about your daily life. It began a few weeks ago and you can't seem to shake it. Its like a broken record that repeats endlessly with no end in sight. That is, until you finally see the light; a flash and a bang, more blinding and deafening than anything you've ever heard. It isn't until the smoke clears that you see him, a man, or at least you think he is, holding a firey blade. He doesn't move his mouth but his words ring in your soul, he touches you with his blade and you change.....and then you know the truth. [i]Fallen.....Fallen it is time to awaken. The world is being pulled apart, and only you are able to finish it.[/i][i] [/i]The message rings in your head over and over again as you go abou your daily life. It began a few weeks ago, and you can't seem to shake it. Its like a broken record that repeats endlessly with no end in sight. That is, until you finally see the light; a flash and a band, more blinding and deafening than anything you've ever heard. It isn't until the smoke clears that you see him, a man, or at least you think he is, holding a firey blade. He doesn't move his mouth but his words ring in your sould, he touches you with his blade and you change.....and then you know the truth. Which side will you fight for? The time for the final battle for earth has arrived. It began as a great flash of light that engulfed the earth, killing over 85% of the earth's population in one blast. The remaining governments banned together, claiming an accidental nuclear launch destroyed most of the planet. The remaining population was moved to the United States in an attempt to create a new world head quarters to begin rebuilding. Unbeknownst to the general population, the minions of satan covered up the battle between Jeremiah's followers and Michael and Gabriel's followers that fell upon the earth as the great "nuclear" blast. They moved the population not to begin recovering, but instead to hide the search for the 7 seals that would free satan. Before the blast you were a simple human, living your life and surviving like the rest. You were moved to the United States with everybody else and began building again. The year is 2025, 12 years after the bulk of the earth was destroyed. You just had your vision and you awake with a power and a mission, but the mission is your choice. Some were visited by Michael, some by Gabriel, and still some by Lucifer. If Michael or Gabriel visited you, you are a descent of a fallen angel of light. An angel who feel to earth to experience and embrace humanity. If you were visited by Lucifer you are a descendent of a fallen whose goal was to find a way to destroy his father's 'greatest' creation, humanity. Signups: Name: Age: Appearance: (Description or picture) Personality: Go into detail Power: Remember we're humans who are descendents of angels so there is no flying around on angel wings, keep you powers simple and remember you've only had a few years to develop it. Leave room for it to grow a bit, If you choose telekeneisis, for example, start off by levitating smaller objects don't jump into dropping a house on a witch. Weapon: What weapon have you used to survive, are you a master in the use of a firearm? Maybe you prefer the upclose and personal touch melee weapons choose, or you're just old fashoined and love a good bow and pointy arrow. Holy Weapon: During the course of the story, whether good or evil, all descendents are going to gain a holy weapon. A weapon that has been past down in your family and has been waiting in your blood for a chance to be unleashed Bio: Who were you before your vision, what did you see in your vision, and what did you do immediately following. This is intended to be a mature RP that will show the darker side to the holy war. Most of the begining of the story will be both sides gathering, and then the bulk of the story will take place in the wastelands of the eastern hemisphere. I'm going to add my signup later this afternoon for anyone who feels they need a template, anybody else can just feel free to sign-up. (Anybody choosing to fight for lucifer, please pm me after your sign-up. I have some story markers I need you to work your way to early on, though how you get there and how the events unfold are going to be all up to you)

[size="3"] [font="Arial"][size="2"][font="Trebuchet MS"]The Big Bang Theory...a complex wonder of science, religious miracle and imaginations, but for countless centuries; modern day scientists ans skeptics have wondered that very question. Which one caused the Big bang? They can argue that it was the work of a high powered being that is both merciful and vengeful. The computations of particles and gases fusing together to create a new astronomical wonder; or even the ideals and hopes of life outside of the norms creating new universe. They were close, but far from obtaining the actual truth in it all. During the explosion of the big bang, something else produced itself from the ashes of life....an actual spirit. Inside of this single floating orb lies the power of destruction and creation all in one, how it was able to manifest itself during the birth of a universe is still unknown, but even at its creation it has remained docile and observant of life as it went by. This singular spirit has been on the planet earth during the passing of time. Exploring the birth of man and his many wonders of consciousness and thought, kingdoms and nobility serve a higher power or calling, plagues and disease spread though out countries, the formation of religious houses and the wars over which one was justified as the true savior. This single spirit has also adapted to human emotions and normal day of life, during the Egyptian era, it infused its core body into the life of a human child. Experiencing all the wonders of growing and aging, and lessons learned by elders and life experiences. When it was time to move onto the offspring, the spirit would simply slip into the new host of the same family, reliving those experiences again and again, but never letting the human host hone into its hidden and raw power the spirit held within, for disaster and chaos would ensue for the race of man. During the lifespan of this particular bloodline, the spirit has lived to see the world shape itself for both good and bad, but never losing the experience of mankind's limitless imagination. It was during the years of the Roman influence that sparked a warning of the spirits presence. A group called "Maldito", full of brilliant scientists of the time, rich family members and thieves alike came across interesting information about their worlds creation, a singular energy trail was left behind, and their group could find and locate the source of great power. Luckily for them, they had the power of magic on their side to locate the spirit. With much effort and scheming, the Maldito family found the current host and tortured him for information on his power. Unknowing the the host at the time, the spirit never made itself known or even knew when he was infused with a being of great power. The spirit stayed in the host until his body died, finally showing itself to the Maldito family, but escaped soon after to go to the next generation's body to hide. So the chase began, the spirit jumping from one body to the next of the same blood line as the years passed, always hiding from the Maldito family that grew in number and wealth over the years. More members joined to have a chance at capturing and harnessing the spirits natural raw power. It wasn't until the time of King Henry VIII that a noble night saw the murder of a host, and saw the spirit rise from its corpse around several Maldito family members. Acting on valor and courage, the knight fought off and killed each family member until the spirit was left alone with the brave night. As a token of gratitude, the spirit summoned enough energy and "synced" its knowledge of its life and the Maldito family, the information was a lot for the knight, but he knelt and drove his sword into the ground, pledging to always protect the spirit and whatever host it may reside in at the time. This was the birth of the Crimson Guard Family. Warriors, magicians and average humans guarding the secret of the spirit and protecting the host while the Maldito Family continued their hunt for ultimate power. As time passed, members on both families have also, but there are some who still hold a high place, gaining immortality through means of magic or sacrifices to continue their secret war of destroying or protecting the spirit with powers unmeasurable by science or man. The Maldito family and Crimson Guard continue to battle their war in the shadows, not all the time are the Crimson Guard successful in protecting the spirit. The same with the Maldito family, still unable to capture the spirit with great power before it flees or their members are attacked by the Crimson Guard, now that times have changed and positions have shifted, it has become more of a dangerous battle with science and technology advancing to their peek. The time is current, the spirit's new host is an orphaned boy who attends school and lives his life out normally, but the poor boy is now in the crossfires of an ancient battle for the being inside of his body. He is the last of the original family bloodline since Egyptian times, and for only being a child, he is the last place the spirit can remain dormant. For if he dies, the spirit cannot jump to another host to hide inside, and will be reviled in plain sight and the powers of the original Big Bang shall be released if used for dark purposes. The years have passed and even members of the Crimson Guard are wavering from their original mission, but the elder members remember the promise they made, and they plan of keeping it to save their world from utter destruction. [b]Guidelines: Alright, my first RPG with the help of some awesome members, lets make this a lasting and exciting one. The current time for this RPG is now, our time, 2011. So any means of technology can be used by any member, the location will be given when we start this as well. As a side note, NO FAMILY MEMBER KNOWS THE IDENTITY OF THE OTHER. To further explain, each family member has a seal on their body, a tattoo of their seal, it will alert them when the spirit or another member of the opposite family is near. The symbols for each family member will be on the first post when this makes it to the Theater section, I'm positive members will like their personal family symbols. I would like to get at least 5 dedicated posters (including myself) for this, a fair amount on both families and then the Carrier. Since its set in current times, I'd like the family members to be hidden in regular job roles (cops, teachers, students, business executives, etc), but still faithful to their duties. You can be a rich tyrant, superstar singer, or ever a commoner going about their lives. So be creative :D Sign-Ups: Name: (Self Explanitory) Age: (Since some members are immortal, give a general age or timeline when you were welcomed into the family) Sex: Family: (Which do you belong to? The Maldito Family or Crimson Guard?) Appearance: Personality: Occupation: (Current job to hide yourself from the other family member and carrier. Teacher? Construction worker? Stock Broker? Student? anything goes) Bio: (Share a little bit about your character, their past history with the Crimson Guard or Maldito family, if they've lived for centuries or even this decade or the next, let us know) Abilities/Powers:[/b] (Let's not be too X-Men, anime gun ho. Have a general idea but remember you are limited. Are you a psychic that can only levitate or read peoples minds? A super strength fighter with the inability to swim? Or even a magic user that has physical limits, your character is your own creation, but lets be level with one another.) Weakness: (As stated above: Can't swim? Afraid of heights? Not a social butterfly? Clostrophobic? We love em all !!) Weapons: (If you choose to have one, always optional) [color="#008000"]I will be playing the role for the current Carrier of the Spirit, the last of the bloodline. I already have two spots reserved for Crimson Guard Members, but if we get a lot of posters then hey add on or join the other family. Hope to see some enthused posters for this one :D Happy Postings![/color] [/font][/size][/font] [/size]

[indent][b]Selene[/b] has ravaged this galaxy. A conqueror, an empress, and a goddess, in her wake are the ruins of a thousand worlds. Time has passed, war zones are now graveyards, and the voices of dissent have fallen silent. Silence... Yet even in the darkest of times heroes still exist. A brave crew of soldiers, pirates, explorers, and dreamers hold the key to freeing Seleneâ??s grip on their homes. The keyâ??s name is [b]Eos[/b], and she is captain of this vessel, [b]Oceanus.[/b] On this day we venture into the heart of Seleneâ??s empire without knowing exactly what we will find there. Trust in yourself and your abilities and you will see through this day. Your courage, your strength, and [I]your voice[/I] are all that is necessary to undo the damage that has been done. Choose a weapon and never let it go. Whether it be your mind, your ship, or your song, it is all you will have to protect yourself with in this nightmarish dreamscape we are about to encounter. Stand together and donâ??t be afraid. [I]Oceanus[/I] is about to launch. [font="Georgia"][size=7][center][b][color="#000080"]OCEANUS[/color][/b][/center][/size] [/font] Welcome to [I]Oceanus[/I], an RPG that (I believe) is the first of its kind. There is no set continuity or timeline; posts can and [I]will[/I] contradict one another. Inside of the [b]Dreamscape[/b] all things are possible, and your personal journey will encompass your characterâ??s past, present, future, and their darkest fears. Write about what you want, when you want; all I ask is that you make it interesting.[/indent] [size=5][font="georgia"][color="#000080"][b]sing for me[/b][/color][/font][/size][indent] Music is integral to the story of Oceanus, and you will be expected to include songs and song lyrics into your posts in a meaningful way. Silence is the weapon of Selene, so naturally the best way to defeat her is through the power of music. Characters will burst into song during moments of self-reflection, but also during battle scenes (or anytime, really.) How this works is that you will include song lyrics in your posts, and a credit to the artist whose song you are using. You can simply include the bulk of the lyrics uninterrupted, or interweave them with dialogue or action. Here is an example of how a post might look. This is modified from a couple of years ago when the concept of a musical RPG was first brought about: [/indent] [quote]Diana and Michael entered her dark apartment in the middle of the night. Michael was badly bruised from his fight on the streets, and she carefully rested him on the couch while she searched her apartment for a first aid kit. "[b]Oh Michael,[/b]" Diana said, her face full of worry, "[b]What was wrong with those people that attacked you on the subway? Did you notice how strange their teeth were?[/b]" "[b]That's what I've been trying to tell you, Diana. They're vampires.[/b]" "[b]Now you're being ridiculous,[/b]" she replied from the bathroom, "[b]I'm just glad we're somewhere safe.[/b]" Michael let out a heavy sigh. Although they had managed to escape once, now that they had a taste of his blood there would be no way to hide. Diana entered the room, and Michael took off his shirt to reveal a bloody puncture wound on his chest. "[b]Oh, it's awful. You're gonna rest here tonight.[/b]" "[b]Just patch it up so I can leave,[/b]" Michael winced as Diana poured rubbing alcohol across the wound, "[b]We need to go back to my place and get my things, Diana.[/b]" "[b]And why do we need to do that?[/b]" "[b]I need to confront them once and for all. I have weapons at my place...[/b]" Diana's eyes narrowed, "[b]There's almost a dozen of those guys, and you're just some scrawny kid from the suburbs. I'll call the police in just a minute....[/b]" "[b]You don't understand. They're gonna follow us.[/b]" "[b]You don't understand, Michael! I've lived in this city my entire life, and I'm not losing another friend to the street gangs. There's only one safe thing to do and that's to wait for this whole mess to blow over..." [indent][I]'Beat It' as performed by Michael Jackson[/i] They told you don't you ever come around here Don't wanna see your face, you better disappear The fire's in their eyes and their words are really clear So beat it, just beat it You better run, you better do what you can Don't wanna see no blood, don't be a macho man You wanna be tough, better do what you can So beat it, but you wanna be bad[/indent][/b] [b]"It's about more than that, Diana! You know I can't run away with you!"[/b] [indent][b]Just beat it, beat it, beat it, beat it No one wants to be defeated Showin' how funky strong is your fighter It doesn't matter who's wrong or right Just beat it, beat it Just beat it, beat it Just beat it, beat it Just beat it, beat it They're out to get you, better leave while you can Don't wanna be a boy, you wanna be a man You wanna stay alive, better do what you can So beat it, just beat it...[/b][/indent] As Diana finished placing the bandage on his chest Michael rose to his feet. He looked to he for compassion, but she merely folded her arms with a look of indignation across her face. "[b]I'm sorry...[/b]" Michael reached for his shirt, and stormed out of the apartment.[/quote] [indent]When creating a character try to give them a unique 'sound.' Think of which types of artists best represent your character, because I feel like song selection will be important to telling your character's personal story. I have terrible taste in music, so don't feel self-conscious if your song choice isn't amazing. OB is a unique place to tell stories, and with so many members being from around the world I'm hoping we're going to get a very eclectic mix.[/indent] [size=5][font="georgia"][color="#000080"][b]sign-ups[/b][/color][/font][/size] [indent][b]Name:[/b] Eos [b]Age:[/b] Unknown. Appears to be no older than 30. [b]Homeworld / Origin:[/b] Unknown. Word of Eos and her journey to the center of the universe have existed for decades. It is unclear where exactly this mission began, or why. [b]Species / Appearance:[/b] Human. Eos has pale skin, a slight, feminine build, and long, flowing hair that changes color depending on her mood. Her eyes are gray, and she is usually seen wearing a U-Comm officer's uniform dating back to long before the first Outbreak. [b]Special Skills / Abilities:[/b] Eos is an accomplished pilot, and takes great pride is piloting [i]Oceanus[/i]. She understands dozens of languages from across the universe, but never speaks a single word. Eos has a voice that is tremendously powerful, and is capable of emitting sonic blasts the limits of which are currently unknown. While she can control the intensity of these blasts, even a faint 'whisper' could cause irreparable damage to anyone within earshot. As a result Eos is effectively mute, and entrusts her veteran crew to anticipate her orders. [b]Theme Song:[/b] [center][url="http://youtu.be/FooSG3Ha22Y"]'Sadness is a Blessing' as performed by Lykke Li[/url] [youtube]FooSG3Ha22Y[/youtube] My wounded rhymes make silent cries tonight My wounded rhymes make silent cries tonight And I keep it like a burning I'm longing from a distance I ranted, I pleaded, I beg him not to go For sorrow, the only lover I've ever known Sadness is a blessing Sadness is a pearl Sadness is my boyfriend Oh, sadness I'm your girl These scars of mine make wounded rhymes tonight I dream of times when you were mine so I Can keep it like a haunting Heart beating close to mine Sadness is a blessing Sadness is a pearl Sadness is my boyfriend Oh, sadness I'm your girl I ranted, I pleaded, I beg him not to go For sorrow, the only lover I've ever known Every night I rant, I plead, I beg him not to go Will sorrow be the only lover I can call my own? Sadness is a blessing Sadness is a pearl Sadness is my boyfriend Oh, sadness I'm your girl Sadness is my boyfriend Oh, sadness I'm your girl Oh, sadness I'm your girl[/center] Let me know when you have questions. - Shy[/indent]

Heads up before i put down the plot, i do rp's the old fashioned way (If you can call it old fashioned) where each person rp's as they're own character and thats it (You all may hate me now but thats ok i like rping that way sooo....oh yeah plot!) Plot: The humans cant see it but new york has been painted in darkness. Demons, witches, fairies, goblins and others have swamped NY hiding in plain sight, hiding among the humans and fighting each other for territory and more. will you survive? (Im horrible with plots so hopefully you get the basic idea) Character Sheet: Name: Age: Gender: Personality: Appearance: (Pictures or links are verry much loved.) Relations: (Boyfriends, siblings, friends and the like) Bio: (Their history) Other: (Other random facts) (I'll make the actual rp when enough people have joined.) My character: Name: Alexis (Lexi) Age: 17 Gender: Female Personality: You'll See ;) Appearance: <a href="http://media.photobucket.com/image/black haired anime girl/belliza009/studying_black_haired_anime_girl.jpg?o=64" target="_blank"><img src="http://i549.photobucket.com/albums/ii383/belliza009/studying_black_haired_anime_girl.jpg" border="0"></a> Relations: Her father is a demon mob boss, and she has 3 older brothers Bio: I'll make one up as i go Other: She's half demon and half human, most of her demon powers are sealed by an ankle bracelet.

[font="Comic Sans MS"][color="#000080"]Many millenia ago... The great deity Soa planted a seed into the land of Endiness. The seed grew into a gigantic tree, the Divine Tree, which bore 108 fruits. Each of these fruits created a species... The towering, massive Gigantos the 97th fruit...the small, long-haired Minitos the 99th fruit, the formidable Dragons the 105th fruit, the passive, agrarain humans the 106th fruit, the magical flying Winglies the 107th race. The fruits fell from the tree and took their places in the land of Endines, filling the once-barren land with life. The 108th fruit was known as the God of Destruction...but why would Soa create the world just to destroy it? Whatever the reason, the offspring of the Divine Tree obtained peace in the land of Endiness for many thousands of years, until... Thinking that their magic made them superior, the Winglies became power hungry, and took over. They killed off many of the 108 species, and enslaved the humans. For many hundreds of years the human race were servants to the magical Winglies in their five cities: Deningrad, the Birth City; Aglis, the Magical City; Zenebatos, the Law City; Mayfil, the Death City; and Kadessa, the Royal Wingly Capital. These cities floated on clouds high in the air, along with many Wingly fortresses such as Flanvel. The humans were at the mercy of the magical Winglies, led by the cruel Melbu Frahma, who carried with him a magical orb from which he could obtain unlimited magical powers. Then, one day, led by the human monarch Emperor Diaz, the humans attacked the Winglies. This war became known as the Dragon Campaign. Of the army, seven of the warriors had obtained the power of Dragons...these warriors were known as the Dragoons. With the strength of Dragons by their side, the human army attacked the Wingly cities. The Winglies, fearing this would be the end, harnessed the power of the mighty Virages. However, even the power of the Virages were no match for those of the Dragons. The Dragoon Leader, the Red-Eye, attacked Melbu Frahma, killing him, yet sacrificing himself for his deed. Many other lives were lost during the Dragon Campaign, including those of the seven Dragoons... Or were they...? That is the Legend of Dragoon from the past. 10,000 years after the Dragon Campaign, a new chapter begins in the Legend... Mira sat up slowly in bed, stretching her arms above her head and groaning as her joints popped in protest, looking out her window she cursed silently as she saw the could cover and the possibility of rain. Slipping from her bed she dressed quickly. Grabbing her sword she strapped it to her back and threw her cloak around her shoulders, pulling her long, oddly colored hair back she tied it into a pony tail with the small piece of leather string and walked from her room. Grabbing an apple from the basket by the kitchen sink she opened the door and sighed. Turning she looked as her brother stepped from his room with his wife, her stomach swollen, proof of her pregnancy. He yawned and gave her a smile. "I see your on your way than?" "The pull keeps getting stronger, it's as if the mountain is calling me." He nodded and stepped forward draping a necklace around her neck, the large blue stone shimmering in the first rays of the sunlight, as soon as the cool surface of the stone touched her bare skin under her uniform she felt safer. Looking up into her brothers handsome face she gave him a swift hug and kissed his cheek. "Good luck sister, write some time." She have him a wave as she walked to the stable and saddled her horse, the white stallion snorting in anticipation for the on coming journey. Pulling the cloak around her tighter she urged the horse forwards and began her journey to the mountain top covered in ice. A voice echoing through her head down to her very soul. [center][i]The journey That seeks that past ends And the journey to discover today begins unleash the spirit of the Dragoons and discover your destiny Warrior of water and Ice come fine me where the earth meets the sky Join the ranks and become a Dragoon.[/i][/center] Mira looked towards the mountain again, positive she would find answers there. Sign up: Name: Mira Sage Age: 26 Appearance: Attachment Personality: Calm and gentle she is a sweet spirited young woman who enjoys life as she lives it, but at the same time her temper sits just below the surface. Weapon: A short sword that is light weight and easy to handle. Dragon Spirit: Ice/Water There are seven Spirits in all. Fire Water/Ice Earth Light Shadow Thunder Wind[/color][/font]

Welcome to the forgotten city of West Burmon, Illinois, with a population of what was once about 10,000 people. The town now lies abandoned because of the immense amount of supernatural activity. It is said that the town is filled with the restless spirits of the dead, and a town in which the living constantly lives in fear. Many of the dwindling number of residents speak in hushed tones of the dark and grisly history of the city from the butchering of all of the nuns and patients in the now abandoned catholic hospital to the tales of the terrible accident that destroyed most of the Frances Jane Memorial Train Depot. The river that runs through the city played host to the days when paddle boats steamed the mighty Mississippi, and saw many gruesome shipwrecks along the shore. The rundown though once stately Morrison Manor has seen the worst of the town, the history of the structure has been plagued with a blood-soaked past. The entire city has been the subject of many, many heated debates about the supernatural. Almost every building in the town has a history, and there are plenty of people who like to journey into the town to catch a glimpse of these phenomenon. Many leave West Burmon and refuse to speak of the terror they faced while amongst these aging and deteriorating buildings. Several other stories of this town involve the spirits allegedly haunting the Patricia J. Hennsy Memorial High School and Middle School. Joined only by the grounds, these two buildings were built in the early 1800's and were the town's pride and joy. The schools were reported haunted as early as 1830. Through the decades until its closure in 1960, the school played host to almost twenty murders, suicides, and fatal accidents. There have been several apparitions spotted. The Middle School's first Principal, Jean Jacues, who fell asleep at his desk in 1807 and passed away. Three other spirits are the victims of a violent murder that took place within the basement of the High School in 1889. A student and a teacher were having an affair, and when the principal then found out, a Mrs. Rita McDaffing, the principal shot them both with a 12-gauge shotgun, and then herself in the office after writing a suicide note about the ordeal. Two other spirits are the ghosts of a young boy and a girl, who play together on the ruined playground. The story goes that the young boy was a student who was stung by a bee, and suffered a fatal allergic reaction before the paramedics could arrive. The little girl is said to have been the victim of a freak accident when a massive tree branch broke off the trunk of the ancient oak tree located in the playground area and crushed her skull. Both of these deaths are supposed to have occurred in the 1901-2 school year. Another popular story concerns the school buses that once brought the students to these once hallowed places of learning. They were all parked in the parking lots of their respective schools upon them closing, though it is said at random they disappear if only to be seen rumbling along or parked elsewhere in the residential areas. There are three documented cases of there being fatal accidents involving three separate buses, of which there were no survivors. As for the St. Maria Hospital, the story is that in the year 1953 a George Manusco was admitted to the hospital with a terrible fever. His illness was never revealed, as when he awoke later that night, mad with his fever, he grabbed a fire ax from the hall outside of his room and began to brutally murder all who crossed his path. He killed almost 150 people (most of which were either people who were bedridden through sickness themselves or nuns) before he turned the ax on himself. The hospital was never opened again after the massacre, and its doors were closed forever. The spirits of those killed are said to make themselves known in a variety of ways. What's most unnerving about the building of this former house of healing is that the bloodstains of those killed can still be seen, as the blood was never cleaned up before the doors permanently locked. In effect, all of the equipment, lights, medicine, and rotted foodstuffs remain in the building. The Train Depot itself was build in the late 1800's or early 1900's, if only to be immediately shut down due to a terrible accident that took the lives of seventy people. From what can be gathered from public records, the train depot had a passenger train come into the station shortly after noon, next to two other trains that had also pulled into the station. One of the steam powered locomotives suddenly exploded, sending pieces of the iron making up the locomotive flying in all directions. These pieces were reported to range wildly in size. Two pieces were send into the neibouring trains, causing these too to explode. A fire broke out, decimating the depot and the remaining train cars. Eyewitness accounts when recorded told of how the fire rapidly sprang along the floor and the rafters above the trains, trapping many people and paired with the chocking steam, suffocated many people. The ruins of the depot still stand as a testament to a time long gone by. Again, as with the hospital, the ruined train cars were never moved. Tracks were laid to circumvent the depot, as the tracks in the station itself were claimed to be beyond salvation and the city didn't wish to deal with the costs of tearing the building down and rebuilding. The ruins of the building, trains, and tracks appear today as they did on the day of the tragedy. The next popular discussion is of the residential area, said to be plagued with strange occurrences. Many, many different apparitions have been seen roaming the streets, and not all of them human. Several breeds of dogs have been seen, as well as several different colored cats. Many different apparitions have been seen here, their clothing dating from the early 1800's to the 1960's. From the larger, older, and more luxurious homes comes the sounds of parties held by an invisible crowd. Lights within the homes turn on and off (which should be impossible as the power to these buildings has long since been severed), and candles are said to be lit and flit about the rooms. The stories of several different models of vintage cars and trucks are told repeatedly. In some of these stories, cars will pull out of driveways and drive down the street, often with no driver. 3423 Russo Drive is said to have the most interesting vehicle. The home itself is nothing special to look at, though the ancient 1956 station wagon is. Rusted throughly, the car sits on flat tires. The car was simply abandoned there. The car is said to start up on its own, with all of the noises of a car that hasn't started in years. It will roll forward, playing music from its radio distinctive of that time period. Other stories involve phantom vintage vehicles which disappear as one approaches them, or cause accidents with terrible crunching and grinding of metal. On inspecting one's vehicle, the other vehicle is gone, and there is no damage done. It's not just the streets that are haunted, but the homes as well. A fair few were the scene of another massacre, when a woman used her make-up salesman routine to approach all of the houses in a neibourhood, and kill all of the residents of the homes with an ax. She wound up killing fourty-three people including children, some of which were infants. Thankfully, her rampage was on a school/work day, or there may have been many, many more deaths. Near and spread within the residential areas are several sprawling parks. Spindler Park, named for the park's third mayor, has been the site of many spectral encounters, namely caused by the restless spirits of children. In 1890, a young woman filled with grief over the loss of her young child wandered into the park and hung herself. It is said she wanders the park, dressed in a flowing black dress and her sobs and wails of anguish can be heard during the nights of the full moon. Another park, Rene Bradley Park, was the scene of several horrid murders, including that of thirteen children and a lynching of four women by a religious cult. The rotting wooden structure of a massive playground still echoes with children's laughter and screams. Sarah Gestault Park is infamous for the statue of a young girl who supposedly weeps blood every night of the full moon. A fourth park, Glen Oak Park, was the scene of a theological horror. An unknown person attacked, bound, and gagged the clergy of a local church, and brought them all to the park to be butchered. Of all the body parts recovered, there were several missing organs from the five bodies. All of their hearts were missing. The symbol of the cross was carves not only through their faces, but through their skulls as well. Perhaps the most odd haunting is that of the fairgrounds, where it is said the ghosts of an elephant and a tiger can be seen and felt. The Miriam the elephant was struck by lightning in 1918, and instantly died, whereas the Tiffany the tiger died of old age in 1920. There is a memorial to the beasts on the grounds. Another specter within the grounds is that of that of Miles Gray, whose name belied his colorful nature, and he was a jovial and humorous circus clown who died of an unknown disease in 1949. It is said he appears sometimes with and sometimes without his clown suit. Within the rotting big top there is supposed to be the spirits of a young man and woman who died in a trapeze accident. Many times the wooden roller coaster can be heard running along the tracks, but the ride has long been closed down, and sections have collapsed due to rot. The sounds of the carnival that was once here can be heard on some nights as well, and people claim to have seen its bright and flashing lights and heard the carnival music only to arrive there and find it dark and ominous. The Morrison Manor itself seems to be quite the paranormal hot spot as well. Boasting a massive Victorian mansion. a poolhouse, a gazebo, a ballroom, and a massive rose garden, the once beautiful mansion grounds have fallen away to rot and disrepair. It was here on July 4th, 1932, that a terrible series of crimes took place. Owned by Reston Morrison, he and his family boasted many almost legendary parties, included on the guest list was many a Hollywood star or musician. Every single man, woman, and child on this property were murdered, and in cold blood. Through a variety of means, the people here on that night were killed in terrible fashions. But, the stories of the grounds of the mansion itself are steeped in blood as far back as the late 1600's. Past lynchings, murders, suicides, and a collapsed mine are on the grounds. All in all, there have been 367 documented deaths and 45 verified deaths on the property since the late 1600's, long before the mansion was built in the mid 1800's. Even after the manor was erected, the number of deaths escalated ever more. Downtown, once again, is filled with disturbing haunts. The Macremay Movie House once held massive audiences captive in front of the silver screen as well as play productions since its construction in 1899 up until its closure in 1980. Three actors, two actresses, and two employees have died in the course of the productions of this theatre. Many accounts reveal the scent of two distinctive perfumes, ghostly apparitions, and the sounds of a performance. On occasion, movies have begun to play from the reels still stored in the projector boxes. In the parking lot of the building are strange sightings of a classic Ford Mustang, a vintage hearse of unknown make or model, and a Volkswagon Bus. Elsewhere downtown, the City Hall and Courthouse soars majestically into the sky. Closed since 1970 when the rest of the town was almost completely abandoned, these two three story buildings sit next to one another with a parking lot shared between them. There have been twenty deaths between the two buildings, including the most commonly spotted spirits of that of Jason Marley, a judge who died of being accidentally electrocuted, Nancy Fields, a twenty year old woman who died after being murdered because she refused the advances of an aging and popular judge, Miranda Cummings, an elderly woman who cleaned the buildings, and Aaron Yeln, who was the town's fifth mayor who passed away at his desk due to a heart attack. A city park sits near these two buildings, and has the feeling of being safe permeating though it. A fountain and statue of a woman sits at the center of the park, facing the courthouse. It is said that she overlooks the park as some kind of savior and on certain nights she moves and sings and prays. There were several reports of people attacked in the park, if only for their attacker to be thwarted by a woman who bore a disturbing resemblance to the statue. It is thought that the spirit is that of a woman named Annabel Maston, who was an adamant and early supporter of women's rights. She was quite popular in the town, and had a very pointed view of justice and how people should be treated and punished for crimes committed. She was seen as something of a local hero, because of her work for charity and for her immediate actions to find missing people during bad weather, sometimes by herself. It was one night after leaving her home that she mysteriously disappeared, and to this day remains unsolved. After her disappearance the statue of her was erected, and the strange happenings began to occur. A young man named Bradley Cadds was convicted of a crime in 1922 of which he maintained he was innocent of until his hanging on the gallows once located behind the City Hall. Allegedly, Cadds was in love with a young woman, named Mary Morrison, who coincidentally happened to be the daughter of the Morrison family who lived in the famed Morrison Manor. The story goes that it was her father who accidentally killed her out of rage when he forbade his daughter from seeing the simple farmer. When she refused, he savagely beat her and locked her up in her bedroom. When she refused to eat, he again beat her. Unable to convince his daughter to his side of things, he allowed her to escape, if only to shoot her as she ran away with a hunting rifle. Though he aimed to kill her, she managed to get away. Knowing where his daughter would be headed, the angry father was determined to never allow his daughter to be with the 'filthy lower class'. On arriving at the home of the Cadds, the father was already too late, his daughter had died in the arms of Cadds. Through his anger he had failed keeping this from happening, and he was able to twist the story of how things happened and had Cadds hanged for a crime he did not commit. Cadds and Mary are said to haunt the Cadds estate, and have been seen together walking on several occasions. It seems Mary's father failed at keeping them apart after all, and this is one of the few more or less happy hauntings in the sad tale of this forgotten city. Finally, the last area of the town that's a trendy topic is the Ashley Cemetery and the roads around it. This particular cemetery is haunted by many things which are described as 'less than human.' People Tell stories of the ancient stone centerpiece gazebo, which houses the statue of an angel who was modeled after the founder of West Burmon, Westley Burmon's own daughter, who died of Tuberculosis shortly after her father founded the town. She is the first person buried here on these grounds, and is said to possess the statue on occasion. The statue has been known to change positions, poses, and watch people. Other apparitions have been known to appear in the cemetery and chase people. The road on the outside of the cemetary is supposed to have a phantom black big rig which chases down your car and attempts to run you off the road. Rumor has it, the big rig was picked up by a tornado and flung around, killing the driver. This story however has never been proven. Of course, these are only a few of the stories of the hauntings of this abandoned town. These occurrences seem to plague this poor town. Why that is no one knows. But we're here to investigate, and lay these poor souls to rest. Why is this town so haunted? Why were there so many tragedies? Just what is it in this town that causes all of the activity? is the area of the town cursed? That's what we are going to find out. We are the Peace Makers. We lay to rest the spirits of those departed and unable to find peace. Using our abilities, wits, logic, and our own supernatural powers, we are those who help those who are unable to help themselves. How will you help them rest? Here is the sign-up sheet: Name: Age: Appearance: Skills:(what are you good at?) Gear: (Do you have EVP readers? Cameras? A spork? What did you bring with you?) Supernatural Ability: (nothing too powerful, perhaps things related to ghost hunting) Biography:(what was your first supernatural experience?)

[color="#000080"][font="Comic Sans MS"][center]For centuries people have thought that humans were the only species to walk around on this green planet, oh how wrong they are. They think that all the stories of Vampires, Werewolves, Siren, and all those other scary tales they heard as kids are just that, stories. Again, how wrong they are; countless missing people have been turned into one of these beasts, or worse consumed by them. It's a sad cycle that not many people can really hope to rectify, but that's why the HDF was put in place. Human Defense Force. We are the ones that the other stories tell about, humans that have been born with an extra chromosome that allows us to evolve. Some of us can shape shift, others can control ice, or heal wounds. There was even a file on a man who could control the elements, earth, wind, water and fire. It all boils down to the luck of the draw, whether you have a bad ass power, or something as simple as shocking some body with static. Us that are a part of the HDF have been assembled to go to different parts of the world and keep the Vampire covens, or the Werewolf dens under control, for the ones that get out of order, we eliminate them. Reports come in back to back of sightings and such things like that, we're the ones who investigate those as well. It's has a tenancy to be a boring job, but it pays well. We get a place to call home, people who count on us, and food to keep us going along with pretty much whatever else we want. Freedom is a somewhat loose word in the HDF, we go where we're sent and we don't get much down time considering the creatures of the night never take a break, but on the off chance we do get a few days to our selves we are allowed to go out on the town, drink, dance, shop, all the normal things people do; albeit carefully since we're no longer supposed to exist; but no sooner do we start to enjoy the peace, we're right back to work on the next out break of undead, or missing children reports. It can get tiresome at times, but what job doesn't? And lets be honest, how many people can boast about saving man kind?[/center] Buzzers were going off left and right as the small military base went dark, with the power being cut the monsters could do what they wanted with no fear of being sighted, or harmed. Screams filled the air as men and woman were slaughtered, never to go home to their loved ones again. It was a nightmarish scene and the more screams that sounded the more the carnage seemed to multiply, as if the beasts were feeding off of it. In the back of the base, in a safe room a Sargent and a few lieutenants held their ground, pistols drawn and aimed at the door, the bulky, graying Sargent looked over to the young man trembling next to him. "Get on that radio soldier and call in for help!" "Yes Sir!" Tripping over himself the young man fell into the seat and put a pair of bulky headphones over his ears. "This is the Southern Blue Base, we have hostiles and request back up! Repeat, this is the Southern Blue Base, we have hostiles and request-" Gunfire overwhelmed the radio as screams echoed through the headphones before all that was heard was static. Somewhere in the desert of Nevada, deep underground a middle aged woman turned and looked at the ageing man behind her. "Sir, we seem to have tapped into a transmission requesting aid." "Patch it through." 'This is the Southern Blue Base, we have hostiles and request back up! repeat this is the Southern Blue Base, we have hostiles and request- Ahh! No! Gyaaa! *Shssck* "Assemble the team, if they are out of base, call them back immediately, they have a job to do." "Yes Sir!" Alright, I'm hoping this gets off the ground, I'm kinda going through a hard time and I'm hoping a good RP will help me take my mind off of it. So here are sign ups. Name: Age: No younger than 21, under 21 are trainees and are not allowed into battle, though I might make exceptions depending on how many people sign up. Appearance: Pic or description are welcomed. Which ever your more comfortable with. Personality: Self explanatory. Weapons: Again, self explanatory, you can have up to 4. What ever you choose. Ability: Once more, should not need to go into this. It can be any ability you wish, just don't over do it. I will not be doing a background for characters, due to the fact that those of us in the HDF have had our pasts erased, we no longer exist. Here's mine Name: Alex Talon (Ali) Age: 23 Appearance:[url="http://i592.photobucket.com/albums/tt7/Sara_Shadow/Fantasy/anime-tifa-lockheart-004.jpg"]Alex[/url] Personality: Reserved and serious she doesn't 'cut loose' much, always doing research on targets and training since she carries the lives of the team on her shoulders, or so she believes. Not one to really participate in parties or things of the like she will go regardless to watch the others have fun which gives her enjoyment in it's own. She doesn't show much more than that. On occasion she will crack a smile or laugh if something strikes her fancy. Weapons: More a melee fighter she carries a rapier style sword and throwing daggers along with being a well known kick boxer. She is known as an 'in your face fighter' which has it's moments of getting her into trouble. Ability: Ali is a well known Empath, her powers have grown to the point where she can even control peoples feelings to a degree, it comes in handy on difficult missions and allows her to keep her team calm and alert.[/font][/color]

His work was done here, though he didn't feel a sense of being liberated, nor a sense of being blessed. There was more to do, as was his task here in the human realm. He and his allies were different than their bretheren, they were the ones protecting the truely innocent in this bloody war. On stepping outside, three more people greeted him, their own angelic appearences disguised as that of humans. The boy's black wings seemed to let off a dark energy, before they floated away as individual feathers. Their expressions were the same as his, they knew there were many other souls trapped like these had been, and needing to be found and released. Hoping on a motorcycle behind one of the others, they sped off. Following closely behind them were the other two angels. The boy gazed on into the sunset, the sunlight glinting upon his shades. And yet, the man before him on the motorcycle wasn't an angel at all like him, though still serving the same purpose as the boy. A demon who knew the same calling and duties. The line between heaven and hell blurred even more, ever more. --------------------------- In this tale, not every hero is pure. Not every angel is good, and not every demon is evil. Both exist on both sides of the war between these two great powers, while it seems their leaders turn blind eyes to the feuding between their charges. Demonic and divine...When the heavens act a mirror image to hell, how do you tell the difference? We are those in the middle, destroying those who make the humans suffer, whether they be angelic, demonic, or once human in origin. We are the protectors of the humans. We are angels, and we are demons, wings sullied by what must be done. Our appearences in our true forms differ as widely as where we come from, though we are united in our cause. That which goes bump in the night isn't always evil. As for our abilities, in either form we are in we have far more superior strength, agility, and speed than humans. Your muscles might be bulky enough to squash televisions, though there might be someone who looks like a twig that hurls tanks around like toys. Appearences can be deceiving. There are several major enemies, general things, and allies, for us to face or contend with as a situation calls for them. Here is a list: The Shikabane: There is meaning in an individual's death. Death is our final curtain call, our eternal peace with the world. But there are those who can't accept this and because of intense regrets and obsessions they had at the moment of death, they rise again as animated corpses with a human conciousness. But, this is extremely rare.These beings are called Shikabane. Almost always, these Shikabane begin to harbor feelings of hatred for the living, and so begin to use powers stemming from their obbsessions and the means of their death -called Curses- upon those still living, mercilessly murdering humans that cross their paths. These beings simply aren't human anymore, and take it out on the living. That is where the Shikabane Royals come into play in this deadly game of chess. They kill their own kind, in order to gain access to heaven, or peace, or something else entirely. No one is quite sure except for those whom Shikabane Royals make a pact with. This bond allows these particular undead to fight in human form, and to retain who they were in life. There is only a short time to forge this bond, so there must be a normal bond between the deceased and the Shikabane previously before death. If no pact is formed between a human and a shikabane, then shikabane WILL eventually become a monster. Not much is known about the length of time it takes for this to occur. If such a bond between the two becomes broken, or the bonded mortal slain, there are only two options left to a Shikabane Royal. One is to die, which is what usually happens, or they too become normal shikabane, and will begin to act just as shikabane typically do eventually. It is preferable to die, rather than become a true monster. Only someone who is able to negotiate the terms of the contract can forge this powerful bond. Both the Shikabane and the Royals seem to be created far more often when angels or demons are near, though not nessessarily involved. This number increases dramatically the more there are in a given area. However, it is the Shikabane who are the only creatures who do not necessarily appear similar in appearence to themselves in life when in an alternate form. Shikabane have been known to take on other forms as well, depending on how they died. Shikabane Royals however only have one form. No matter which of the two are encountered, they all smell of the stale aroma of death. There is only one way to kill a shikabane. You have to destroy its brain. The Angels: Heaven's mercenaries, armies, spys, assassins, and a multitude of other things. All manners of creatures comprise the forces of Heaven. Many, many lower ranked angels are little different in appearence than the same ranked demons, other than color and manner of clothing. Rumor has it these are more or less the angelic or demonic forms of various animals, and leading to this is their bestial movements and inteligence. Higher ranking angels have a human form, and are similar in appearence to their angelic forms. These angels truely have the sentiment of humans, though not all are the compassionate visions of typical theological angels. Just like humans, some have hearts consumed by evil, and perpetuate the war they have always known since the dawn of mankind against the forces of the demons. At this particular moment, the angels are more concerned with how long this bloody stalemate has lasted, and seek a way to decimate the forces of hell once and for all, for better or worse. The Demons: Theology depicts them as vile, evil creatures, all under the command of the fallen angel Lucifer, who perpetually wages war upon the heavens. In truth, Demons come in all shapes and sizes, and are ranked almost identically to the angels, the lowest being bestial in form. Higher ranked demons have human intelligence, and their hearts can be just as pure or corrupt as any creature, mortal or not. As are the Angels, so too are the Demons hellbent on destroying their eternal foes. However, not even they wish to remember just how this war started, they simply care about winning. It is rather disturbing just how much alike demons and angels act, especially in the concern of innocent bystanders, such as the humans and nearby wildlife. They often give neither pity nor quarter when it comes to battling angels, though in turn the Angels do the same. Will you join me in the hunt? Okay, here's the sign up sheet. Feel free to be as creative as you want, though I want a lot of details. Remember though, that even our second forms are humanoid, and our facial features and muscle structure don't differ that much between the two, unless you're a shikabane. All of us also have the ability to partially transform from human to our other forms. Name: Age: (if you had a mortal death, include it in with the overall age of your character. Race: (angel, demon, or Shikabane) Human Appearence:( Typically, we resemble who we once were in our mortal lives, though perhaps a more idealized version.) Second Form Appearence: Personality: (self explanitory) Weapons: (be reasonable, please?) Powers: (what kind of abilities do you have that aren't exactly normal? Do you weild the powers of water or ice? Or do you control the air? Perhaps conjuring fire is right up your alley...) History: (be creative. Were you human once? Or were you born the creature you are? What have you done in your life until now? Remember, Shikabane were always once human.) Let's get this party started. Let us dance with the dead.

[center][u][b]Konoha Chronicles: The Shinobi's Path[/b][/u][/center] [i]"The next generation will always surpass the previous one and take their place"[/i] - Hatake Kakashi With the dying of the day's light, a shadow begins to spread over Konoha. Despite a time of relative peace, many begin to sense the looming threat in the distance. The world stands still, silent for the time, yet strained somehow. The five great ninja villages all remain hidden behind their walls - although all feel the tensions rising, none allow their borders to be unguarded. Fearing the worst in each other, the five villages have ceased nearly all communication with each other, and prepare themselves for a possible threat. However, not all feel the ever approaching danger in the air. Normal citizens go about their daily lives, and spurred on by words of safety from the Fifth Hokage Tusande, the young shinobi continue to train to become stronger. Genin continue to take small tasks around the town, preparing themselves for the up -and-coming Chunin exam, while those who have already attained the rank of Chunin train both themselves, honing their combat prowess, and training the students at the ninja academy. Nearing the end of their final semester, one such group of students are fervently preparing to take the necessary graduation exam and become Genins. This, is their story... [center]~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~[/center] Okay, so as you can no doubt tell, the description for this RP is being kept relatively vague. There will be an over-arching plot to this story, but as of right now, that is not important. The RP will work as such: I will accept two others into the RP, each a student graduating from the academy, and will eventually form a three-man team with as we all become Genins. There will be a Jonin character provided as well, but this will remain as a character that we can all RP freely with simply for plot progression and character development. As I stated before, there will be an overarching plot-line, but it will be subtle to begin with, mostly hints at what's happening as we progress through our own story. The RP, after things take off and the three man team is formed, will follow a mission structure. I will begin with a mission for our team to undertake, and when it is completed, the next mission will be decided upon by one of the other authors, then upon completion a new mission will be initiated by the third author - so on and so forth. These missions will serve as a chance for character development and progression until the real plot kicks in. The timeline for this RP is slightly complicated - it takes place in the Naruto universe approximately at the point in the series where Shippuuden begins. That being said, you can imagine our RP as one, enormous filler arch - characters from the Naruto universe exist within the story for continuity purposes (i.e. Tsunade as Hokage) but no one from Naruto cannon will really be in our RP. That means no Akatsuki threat, no cannon characters showing up to save the day - all of the characters in this RP will be created by us. As a side-note, Iâ??d prefer it if everyone who signs up is caught up with the anime, just to ensure that everyone knows and understands how the ninja-world works. If youâ??re not caught up but want to post a sign-up anyways, please send me a message telling me how far into the series you are. Character sign-ups will be done as follows: [b]Name:[/b] Just for continuty's sake, please name your character starting with their clan name, followed by their given name [b]Physical Description:[/b] This will include all necessary info - name, height, appearance, (all characters should be about 12 since we're in the academy) etc. If you want to include a picture as well that's fine, so long as it goes with the write-up [b]Strengths and Abilities:[/b] Please don't go too overboard on this, as all characters are still in the academy at this point. This will be more of a where your character's strengths lie, and some of the abilities they will eventually get. [b]Bio:[/b] No more than a hundred words or so, but feel free to write as much as you want. [b]Name:[/b] Yakanashi Toshiro [b]Physical Description:[/b] Toshiro is of average height for his age, although a bit on the small side. He has long black, messy hair that he often wears in an untidy ponytail. Toshiro wears the standard shinobi combat-mail (although this wonâ??t be worn until he becomes a Genin) underneath a dark blue shirt (the mail goes to his wrists, but the shirt ends at his elbows) and dark grey pants extending down to his ankles. He wears the standard blue sandals most Konoha shinobi are seen wearing, and when he eventually attains the Konoha forehead protector, he ties it around his left arm. He has dark blue eyes. [b]Strengths and Abilities:[/b] Toshiro is a fairly capable and competent student at the academy, placing approximately 5th overall in his class â?? heâ??s not the strongest member, but not the weakest by far. He relies heavily on water-based ninjutsu and basic taijutsu while in combat, but his greatest strength lies in his ability to stay calm under pressure and come up with effective strategies while fighting. [b]Bio:[/b] Toshiro is fairly calm and collected. He prefers to analyze situations before taking action, hating hasty and risky attacks. Toshiro was born and raised in Konoha and has only ever left the village a handful of times. Trained at a young age by his parents and two older brothers, Toshiro found that many basic ninja skills came fairly easily to him, unfortunately instilling a sense of impatience regarding more difficult to master techniques. The Yakanashi clan is fairly well-known throughout Konoha as a clan of shinobi who use water-based jutsus. However, their true strength in battle is through the use of a special water-based genjutsu that assaults their enemyâ??s mind, making them believe they are underwater and causing them to drown. Toshiro, one of the only Yakanashi clan members to be born without an innate ability in genjutsu, often has feelings of inadequacy for being unable to learn this technique, and although none ever say it out-right, is often seen as a bit of a failure by the majority of his clan.

[i] The trouble with magic is that there's too much it just can't fix. When things go wrong, glimpsing junkyard faerie and crows that can turn into girls and back again doesn't help much. The useful magic's never at hand. The three wishes and the genies in bottles, seven-league boots, invisible cloaks and all. They stay in the stories, while out here in the wide world we have to muddle through as best we can on our own. [b]CHARLES DE LINT[/b] [/i] The realm of magic and that of the mortals has always possessed a fragile link; any drastic occurrences in one realm would have an equal effect on that of the other world and they exist as somewhat of a symbiotic relationship. They exist parallel to one another and this balance is kept by the Order of Magus, an ancient order of Magic Users who have the ability to move between the two realms. This bond would last until the end of time or until the death of the order. However, such an event may be sooner than any had hoped. The two worlds have started to fuse, breaching the barriers that existed between the worlds and somehow draining the natural magic of the mortal realm. And with this breach comes something even more sinister, creatures known as Forgotten Beasts and Titans have begun to pass into our world and wreak havoc upon the unsuspecting mortals. The cause for the breaches has to be discovered before the two realms can fully merge as it is theorized that it could result in a massive backlash that could consume both worlds. ------------------------------------------------ [i]Simpson Desert, South Australia 2016 ------------------------------------------------ It was unknown why the Order had sent Kyle here, an isolated desert in the middle of nowhere. He was more suited to places that were a bit more populated, as opposed to the empty desert. All the field study had concluded five years ago, not long after the first Forgotten Beast had breached the mortal world. A gigantic two headed dragon had headed straight for Adelaide and had razed it before the Order could intercept it. A million people were killed in its rampage before it was destroyed and it reminded the order that it had to be forever vigilant. "The barrier may have been repaired but it's fragile" he muttered to himself as he remembered something that he had overhead back at the center of operations. The Archmagus had assigned mages to each of the breaches in an effort to buy some time while they continued researching the cause behind the breaches. Each of them was to guard and observe the breach and to report back if anything occurred. "Are you still there magus?" a voice rumbled in his head, the familiar voice of his mentor Konrad. The old man had been the one to train him and to introduce him to the order although the old man had been quite tough on him "Aye and there is absolutely nothing happening" Kyle grumbled to himself and the voice within his head. He had neither the temperament nor the patience to act as a guard, he was more of an enforcer than anything else but the order was growing quite stretched and he was more than competent enough to act in this role. Konrad began to lecture Kyle about being patient and alert because the world could end if constant vigilance wasn't employed. He had heard this a thousand times before and knew how to seem like he was listening. After all, the link connecting them wasn't mental so there was no chance of Konrad hearing his surface thoughts. Time began to pass and a storm began to rise; Kyle began making his preparations to depart when he noticed a shimmering at the edge of his line of sight. He knew this all to well, the shimmering meant that something was passing between realms or that the barrier was being breached. "Konrad, I'm heading back home" Kyle yelled as he activated a rune stone that would transport him home "things are about to go to hell in a handbasket."[/i] ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Character Creation ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Keep in mind that this is a story set in the real world, just that there is magic in it. Think of it like the Harry Potter novels, magic is kept hidden so that the populace don't find out about it. You can throw around magic but a gunshot to the chest is still as deadly as ever. Also, magic is not infallible. One cannot just click their fingers and make a problem simply cease to exist. It would probably be based upon Equivalent Exchange or that "Magic is consistent. Magic is functional. Magic is not free." This should keep any story breaking powers from occurring and should result in some form of drama although I will not reveal what this could be. Name: (Something relatively normal. This is still a real world story, just with a heavy magic influence on it) Age: (Something reasonable. I'd accept 15 at a minimum if your character was either a prodigy or an apprentice) Appearance: Personality: Background: Go wild with this. This world has magic but the general populace have no idea of its existence so your character could have anything (not including anything science fiction or sword and sorcery based) as their background. Abilities & Equipment: Character Snippet: (Not essential but it gives a good idea of the character. ----------------------------- I'll have something up later today.

[size="2"][font="Lucida Sans Unicode"][center][u][b][size="3"]Timebroker[/size][/b][/u] [IMG]http://i1114.photobucket.com/albums/k528/PhilBoothman/thegrandtimekeeper.jpg[/IMG] [i][b]"It is said that in the final days of the human race, everyone on Earth had bad dreams. Nightmares of war and fire and insanity raged through their minds, yet these thoughts faded by morning. Each and every one of them forgot their visions, save for a small number who remembered. It is these chosen few who will stand united against the darkness and the fire, and yet they continue through their lives, unknowing of their destinies... Billions of miles away, memories of blood and darkness, of fire and war rushed through the head of a man who was old and young all at the same time. It is this wise man, the wanderer, the exile, who will bring the chosen together and lead the charge into the end of days. As the players begin to gather, the whole universe trembles with the shared knowledge that the events that will come to pass will bring only one thing... The end of creation itself."[/b][/i] --- A flash of fire burst behind the man's eyelids, forcing them to snap open as he awoke from his listless slumber. He breathed heavily for a few moments, blinking his ice-blue eyes a few times to get rid of the fog that had clouded over them. He sank back into the leather armchair he had momentarily fallen asleep in, running his hands through his thick, dark brown hair and sighing deeply. His faded plaid shirt was crumpled, his black jacket placed roughly over his legs, which themselves were clothed in a pair of slim, light-blue jeans and a scuffed pair of brown leather boots. He lifted his head a few moments later, raised his arm and lifted his shirt-sleeve up, revealing a series of half a dozen wristwatches of various styles and shapes, each one set to a completely different time. His eyes scanned the watch-faces, and suddenly he leapt to his feet. [b]"Yes! It's finally time!"[/b] he shouted, the excitement of a small child etched cross his face as he scampered around the cluttered room he had fallen asleep in. The room was roughly circular, with a perfectly circular console in the centre, a large clock-face set in the exact centre of the panel. He reached across the mess of wires, buttons and keys that were placed, apparently hap-hazardly around the console, grabbed the hands of the large clock and pulled it round to match the third of his six watches. Suddenly, machines and devices sprang into life, whirring and clanking before settling into a smooth whirring sound. Lights exploded into existence, and parts of the room began to move smoothly together, as though part of a larger clockwork mechanism. [b]"There's life in the old girl yet!"[/b] the man shouted, running around the central console, a wide grin across his face. The floor began to vibrate, and he knew that they were on the move. He grabbed hold of a console as the vibrations grew into larger tremors, and the whole room began to shake violently. Sparks flew from consoles, raining down to the ground in bright, elegant showers. The man laughed somewhat maniacally as he raced from panel to panel, hitting buttons and pulling levers until the shaking gradually came to a stop, and he regained steady footing. [b]"I forgot how temperamental you can be, old girl," [/b]he said with a grin, patting the console. He ran back to his armchair and grabbed his jacket, swinging it on and rushing to the door of the room. [b]"So where have you taken me this time? Mediata Metraxis? The Flaming Spiral of the Keiller Galaxy?"[/b] he yanked the doors open to reveal a grimy back-alley, piles of garbage resting against dumpsters, a foul smell invading the room. He sighed, his shoulders sagging, and turned back to the room, clearly a little exasperated. [b]"Earth...again?!"[/b] --- [i]Time is not linear. It does not stretch out in front of us or back behind us. Instead it is a complex web, consisting of millions, billions of threads stretching out, intertwining and folding back on each other. Time is not perfect, either, and sometimes things go wrong, causing imperfections in the timestream, anomalies which must be repaired, otherwise the web could eventually tear itself apart. To this end, the Timebrokers emerged. A race of almost ageless humanoid beings with the ability to perceive the Timestream, travel through time and repair these temporal anomalies, the Timebrokers were as gods. They resided within the Grand Timekeeper, a vast device of their own construction from which they were able to monitor the individual timelines of every single being in the universe. But the Timebrokers were not destined to live forever. On one dark day a race of terrible, fearsome beings known only as The Tempest emerged from the darkness and waged war on the Timebrokers. The war was long and vicious, taking place throughout time and space, and as it ended both races were destroyed, along with dozens of planets and moons. Entire species were lost in that single instant, and only one survivor emerged. A young Timebroker calling himself Adam escaped, taking refuge in a single section of the Grand Timekeeper as it broke away from the rest of the device and fell through the Timestream to an unknown point in time. Adam spent many decades looking for other survivors, but to no avail, and eventually resolved to continue the work of the Timebrokers, travelling through time and space and fixing anomalies. But now a dark force is beginning to stir, one that could be a threat to the whole of time and space, and Adam has been drawn to Earth in order to find a group of individuals who could hold the key to fighting back against the dark forces that threaten them.[/i] --- Those individuals are you. Welcome to Timebroker, an epic tale that spans the whole of time and space, and will see you fighting alongside the Last of the Timebrokers against a deadly threat. But that fight is yet to come, and first we need to introduce ourselves. You will be playing the parts of humans to whom Adam has been drawn, for reasons as yet unknown to him or yourselves. As this is a story heavily based around time-travel, your character can come from any period in human history, from the rise of the Roman Empire to the distant future. You can even play the part of an evolved human from millions of years in the future if it pleases you! I could do with at least one from the present day, though. You don't need to worry about speaking different and possibly archaic languages, that will be sorted within the RP, as will a number of things including the mythology of this universe. So here's what I need from you: [b]Name: [/b]something era-appropriate [b]Date of Birth/Age: [/b]include both, as we need to know roughly when you were in your personal timeline [b]Gender:[/b] simple really [b]Occupation:[/b] again, era-appropriate [b]Appearance:[/b] picture or detailed description is good, both is great! [b]Personality:[/b] A good description of what your character is like, the rest of us need to know how to write for them [b]Writing Snippet:[/b] tell us a little of your life before Adam came into it. This can be anything really, just a short snippet to show that you're a proficient writer. [b]Extras:[/b] any weapons you plan on bringing with you? Any special skills that could come in handy? Let us know! I will be taking up to six players, but if I get fewer than six sign-ups then I can manage. However, it will be based on quality, not a first-come, first-served basis. So if I get four excellent sign-ups and two that are not up to standard then we will continue with four players. It may seem harsh but I need dedicated, talented RPers to really make this thing fly! If you have any questions then please feel free to ask them via PM, if I get overloaded with them then I'll set up a Backstage thread, and I will do so either way once the RP gets going.[/center][/font][/size]

[font="Garamond"][size="2"]â??[font="Arial"]Jedi master Rook Vaneer on board the Silver Tributary. The other masters and I are heading to the Jedi enclave at Dantooine where we shall discuss the death of master Selona Meri at Korriban, or at least we think it was there. We cannot tell because we lost track of her in the force, as if there was a fog that enveloped her. She became a whisper and then nothing at all. I will use this meeting to convince the other masters that we need to act. As you know, Selona was my master and her death must have been caused by something powerful, and in my opinion, dark. Of course grand master Oâ??laan Dek Taar has convinced the entire order it seems that Jedi are only here to keep the balance, not to look for battle. I understand his view, however if we do not do something, the battle will find us, and the worst part is, I fear we are unprepared. I will contact you once the meeting is over my old padawan. Its been a long time since those days and you have grown stâ?¦â? The words of his old master stabbed at his heart sharper than any wound he had ever received. Xillian Sizhran had never felt so much loss as he had in the last few days. Xillian stopped the Halo recording; there was more but the rest was intended only for his ears. â??This Message is the last known recording of the Jedi masters. Master Vaneer as well as master Kellborn, master Leraka, master Huâ??lya, and master Fal Jadori were en route to Dantooine. Like the other masters, whomever was waiting at the enclave killed them, as well as the other Masters that arrived before them. This was a planned assassination; one that no Jedi was able to sense. â?? the crowed of pained Jedi looked to Xillian. He tried to keep calm but his own grief was -l, highlighted by the pigment of his skin, the normal green was now an eerie gray. â??we must not allow this to happen again. We must find those who would kill our masters and defeat them.â? Some met this statement with applause but the little racket that was stirred up was quickly phased out. â??Master Dek Taar wouldnâ??t want that. His Jedi should not look for battle, all things bring balance to the force, and we are only to preserve that balance!â? Jedi knight Corrun Durron was one of master Dek Tek Taarâ??s many students. He was leading the group of Jedi who were in favor of his now deceased masters teachings of balance and immunity. It sickened Xillian how so many could do nothing when the ones they supposedly cared so much for were taken away. â??My message has been played, and like the other logs, we have concluded that the masters did not know what awaited them. As for the order, we will endure as a whole, but we have no established council, therefore the only orders you take are your own, unless you have an incomplete mission dating before the Dantooine Massacre, in which case complete your final task.â? no one was required to follow this, but it there was no rebuttal. â??furthermore I will be continuing this discussion tomorrowâ?¦ same time and place, but the subject will include possible factors that led to the massacre such as master Meriâ??s death on Korriban and the possibility that the Sith have returned.â? The quiet room erupted with protests. The Jedi were divided, and Xillian knew it would cost them lives. [/font][/size][/font] Muuh Puar, Vongola, Anomander, Alaska, and I would like to welcome you to the our take on Star Wars . The battle of the millennia is about to take place, and you are all invited to immerse yourselves within our realm; however life he will be no vacation to Alderaan (unless you add a Deathstar to the mix.) An invasion of universal proportions is underway and you will find yourself right at the source. Three planets are currently under assault: Tatooine, Telos IV, and Kashyyyk. If you survive, you will spread out amongst the entire universe with your allies and friends you meet along the way, partaking in the war for all worlds. [center]============================================================================ [/center][b] CLASSES[/b] Certain classes are predominant in this world, some of them will place you on one side of the battlefield and others will allow you to make the decision for yourself. [u]Jedi[/u]: if you would like to be a wielder of the Force, trained to use the light side, you may choose between the rank of Knight or Padawan. Currently there are no masters so you are free to choose your path, whether you want to aid the republic in war or simply preserve the balance of the Force by defense rather than attack. This war is large and even a Jedi keen on distancing himself to prevent negative impacts will sometimes find the war coming to them..(NPC maximum: 4) [u] Republic Soldier[/u]: If you choose to be part of the rebel army you are the squad captain, or will be directly governed by him. You and your team will move from battle to battle getting the best(or worst) of the war. The republic is always looking for a few good men, and if you do well you may even receive a promotion. I donâ??t mean to make this sound gloriousâ?¦ war is hell after all, but war is not won by the politiciansâ?¦ and someoneâ??s got to do it.(NPC maximum: 6) [u] Bounty Hunter[/u]: a Mercenaryâ??s business is violence, and there is a lot of it these days. Someone with your set of skills will be in high demand, so its up to you whether you want to take jobs from a certain side or just the highest bidder is up to you. Whomever you do business with, if you do your job well youâ??ll find yourself with bigger and better options including special missions unavailable to anyone else. Gain the interest of the right people and your world will be that of luxury, even as the rest of it crumbles..(NPC maximum: 3) [u] Smuggler[/u]: Everyoneâ??s favorite kind of scoundrel. Sure you going to be looking out for number one, but in your line of business its either adapt or die trying and your not dead yet. You and your ragtag crew are assuredly going to be mixed up in this war somehow, and who knows who youâ??ll run into if your in the right place in the right time. Follow those trusted instincts of yours and always shoot first..(NPC maximum: 4) [u]Sith[/u]: you have embraced the dark side, using the force has given you power, and you love it. The Sith Master and his Three Sith Lords are your superiors. You are either a Sith Knight or a Padawan fighting under the command of your masters. Though you have caught the republic off guard there is always opposition and you will have to show them all the power of the dark side. Though you are a Sith you have NOT been granted the elite title of Darthâ?¦ though this is not to say that you will not get it in time. Please your master and perhaps you may join in his splendor(NPC maximum: 4) [u] Sith Soldier[/u]: under the command of the Sith, you are either the squad leader or directly under him. You follow the orders of your general or any Sith Knight. The Sith empire may revolve around loyalty to the master, but everyone has there orders, and yours are clear: Attack. Sith Generals have low life expectancy, so an opening may present itself if you prove useful., however, If you ever fail to meet expectations be prepared. Sith do not accept failure well. .(NPC maximum: 6) [b] RACES[/b] The universe is a big place, there are over 20 million sentient species known to the galaxyâ?¦ pick one. [url="http://starwars.wikia.com/wiki/Humanoid"]INFO[/url] Below are a list of pre-approved races, you can use others as well: PM me with race and class desired -Human -Wookiee (cannot be Jedi/Sith) -Twiâ??lek -Zebrak -Magdalenian (cannot be Jedi/Sith) -Mon Calamari -Rodion -Togruta -Trandoshan -Nikto -Theelian [b] SHIP TRANSPORTATION[/b] If you are a bounty hunter or a smuggler you cannot count on republic or the Sith Armada to chauffeur. You will need your own ship. if you don't want to pick a specific one just write a name. [b] STARTING PLANET[/b] You have three choicesâ?¦ Kashyyyk: Wookiee home-world in the mid-rim. Dense forests and tribal treetop cities Tatooine: Desert planet with two suns. Much of it is controlled by a crime syndicates Telos IV: an industrial city in the outer rim, outside city limits is a poisonous ecosystem. [center]============================================================================ [/center] This is the sign up we are using.(we donâ??t want to place too many restrictions but please be reasonable. You cant have a Millennium Falcon and if your not a Sith or a Jedi you wont be using a lightsaber for a weapon. I would be glad to help you if you need it or just want a few tips. Other than that have fun with it) [b] Name: Gender: Age: Race: Class: Weapon: Character Description(Bio optional): Physical Appearance- Personality- NPC Company: Name(s)- Description(s)- Ship/Transportation: Starting Planet: [/b] [center] ============================================================================ [/center] Now that I got all the important stuff out of the way, here is my signup. Name: Xillian Sizhran Gender: Male Age: 27 Race: Falleen Class: Jedi Knight Weapon: a single Dual-Phased Lightsaber-a switch on the grip rotates the focusing crystal, allowing two rapidly accessible widths and lengths instantaneously. Main color is Violet, extended color is Silver. Character Description(Bio optional): Abandoned his family and homeworld at a young age in order to become a Jedi, Xillian has always followed his instincts. While training with his former master Rook Vaneer, he became a skilled weapon wielder learning multiple forms. Xillian is also a skilled fighter pilot. The most notable feature is his ability to lead. Always the charismatic leader, Xillian always cuts his own path. This trait was one of the traits disliked by the Jedi masters since he rarely followed orders. Physical Appearance [url="http://i619.photobucket.com/albums/tt278/PandasQ/FalleenIIloRes.jpg"]Clicks![/url] Personality- like most fallen, he hides his emotions well, but if pushed over a certain threshold you will literally see his true colors (you donâ??t wanna mess with him if he is red) though these times have been limited since he finally took his now deceased masters advice and implemented Achaka force training to his meditation. Now under most circumstances he is calm, collective, and recklessly bold when he feels in tune. NPC Company: one astromeck droid Name- R3-D0 Description- Relatively new model. Xillian has had him for fr months now and has not had a problem with him. The only quirk even slightly worth mentioning is that it dislikes memory wipes. This is fine with Xillian since it remembers where he stores his room passkey. Ship/Transportation: Eta-2 Actis-class light interceptor Starting Planet: Kashyyyk

(This is a mature RP) The world was saved, well at least for everybody but us it was. 10 years ago me and my team "The Band of the Blood Moon" fended off hell itself, or at least shut the gates on Satan and Holdren. Holdren was one of the nastiest demons ever spawned, and thanks to him I'm alone. Not because he killed any of my team, though we did lose one friend in the quest, but rather because of all the hellions we let out. Most of those demons are going to just be happy to take control of some poor sap and live his or her life, but there are a multitude that are going to want to answer the call and collect the bounty that's been placed on MY head. I couldn't let my team be dragged into a losing battle...I couldn't live with that. I'm sending out a message to you...Well better put I'm pleading with you, please join my team in their struggle ahead. I've been captured, and I know my team is on their way to rescue me. My captures know it as well, and I'm going to need everyone I can find to aid us. Don't think you are alone in the world. Why there isn't one TRUE human among us, though I do think that we're more human then the mortals that walk this plane. Please join us before its too late... Okay that's a little summary of the events surrounding the end of the first Band of the Blood Moon (Which you can check out here for any questions). I'm looking for 2-3 dependable members to join in for the sequel which will span much more area then the first. I'm not going to reveal any plot here. Here's what I need if you are interested (present team members don't worry about this)... [B]Name:[/B] [B]Age:[/B] [B]Gender:[/B] [B]Species:[/B] (Human, Vampire, Werewolf are the three main. If you'd like to create/modify a species I'm open but I'm being picky about who gets accepted so don't just assume your character is accepted. [B]Appearance:[/B] Pic or Description [B]Personality:[/B] [B]Weapons:[/B] [B]Bio:[/B] [B]Short intro:[/B] Make this a little "window" into your character. Anything's game, just make sure it let's us see into your character a bit. Sign-ups are going to only be open for a short time, most likely a week. We may end up starting before the deadline. If we've started just pm me after you sign-up and I'll get back to you as quickly as I can with if you're okay to join or not.

[color="#0000FF"][font="Comic Sans MS"]The fallout was the worst thing to befall this planet, it killed most of the vegetation, tainted the water, mutated the animals...drove the people into madness...The sparse things left on the surface were so tainted and withered that they were worth little to those that found them. The vegetation grew tough, useless; the water was so irradiated that drinking it would make you sick to the point where no cure could be administered. It was a wasteland, nothing could grow, or live on the surface for very long without perishing to the harshness of the land. But underground, where the radiation couldn't reach we were safe from harm, safe from death; we survived, but at what price? Were we weaker thanks to our lack of sunlight? Were we more vulnerable to disease? These were questions no one could answer, no one had been to the surface for so long most people didn't even know what real dirt looked like, we had lived in the steel bunkers all our lives that the thought of returning to the surface never occurred to us. So when the conversation of a small group of people venturing to the surface came up between the elders most people thought it was a death wish, who would want to go topside and face the harsh environment that awaited them? To our surprise a group of people did volunteer, they left with supplies to record and document everything they saw and bring it back to us. Of coarse this was almost a year ago and we have yet to hear anything back from the small group that went out. Mean while the rest of us are here just doing our jobs trying to make it on what we have and trying to survive with out dwindling supplies. It's a hell all on it's own, but I suppose it's better down here than it is up there. Or at least that's what I've been told. Walking to the kitchens to start her morning job Kaia yawned largely, it was early and most of the people in the bunker had yet to wake up, it was like this every morning though for her, she was always one of the first people up and one of the last people down. She was a cook in the bunker and was in charge of nutritional diets for the people in the bunker. Which was hard in its self with the limited supply of food and water they had. She heaved a sigh and twisted her face into a scowl as the smell of bitter coffee reached her nose as she walked through the galley of the bunker. "Jeulius, that smells as horrible as ever..." "What do you expect? It's not like we have really clean water anymore." She shrugged and put her worn out apron on over her equally worn out clothes, dark and worn out jeans sparsely covered her legs, the holes in the upper thigh and knees, a couple sizes to large for her the worn out belt the only thing keeping them up; not much for insulation but better than nothing, the dark Grey, almost black tank top she wore was just as equally worn out and a couple sizes to small for her showing off her curvy body, her gloves were skin tight and missing the fingers but in these conditions what could she really do? It was certainly better than walking around in her birthday suit that was for damn sure. Pouring herself a rather large mug of the bitter brew she took a few gulps and made a face, it was better than nothing though and would keep her awake for the rest of the day with how strong it was. Heaving another sigh she went about her daily work of kitchen duty and watching as others filed through, each with specific jobs. Some were medics, others were workers, some were even nannies...it all depended on where they needed you the most when you came of age. Shaking her head she realized she was late to her second job and waved goodbye to Jeulius and trotted off for the med station. It was while she was on her way there that she was stopped by a crowd of people who seemed to be observing something, looking over the heads of the people in front of her she saw a weathered looking man in brown clothes, a makeshift sword on his back, but the tattoo on his hand, the bar-code made it obvious he was from the bunker she lived in. She tapped the person in front of her and asked what was going on. "He's from the group of people that got sent out over a year ago, he's the only one left." She blinked as she realized it really had been over a year ago that they had left. there had been five of them and only one returned...was it really that bad up there? Shrugging again she made her way through the crowd and into the medical office where an elderly lady sat rocking in an old rocking chair looking grandmotherly and peaceful. "Helen, have you heard? One of the investigation group has returned." "Oh? Is that so?" "Yes, what do you think they found up there?" The old woman frowned, not letting Kaia see it, being an elder made her certain that she would be called to council about the findings; and no doubt another group would be sent out to investigate further. She laughed softly at the young woman's curiosity. "I'm sure we'll find out soon enough dear, soon enough indeed." The rest of the day went smoothly it was time for lights out when she was called to the main office, upon entering she saw a group of people around her age look in her direction as she came through the door, it made her uncomfortable and nervous. "Kaia Sanderson, thank you for joining us. Please come forward." She looked at the elder that had spoken to her and nodded, stepping forward she swallowed thickly, something was happening. The elder spoke again, this time to the entire group that had gathered there. "The findings that the man brought back today are very interesting indeed, in these writings he talks of a purifier hidden somewhere in the regions of the Black Mountains. We have gathered you all here to ask a great deed of you. If you young people were to find and activate that purifier we could return to the surface and colonize there, we would have fresh water, clean soil, a clean start. We could live again instead of being an ant colony below the ground. It is for you to decided whether or not you wish to take this journey, it will be dangerous and there is a chance you may not survive, you all were the best candidates we could bring forth. But ultimately the choice to venture topside is yours. If you need time to think it over please take the night and come back to us in the morning. We await your answers." The group was dismissed, all talking quietly to one another, Kaia stood where she was gaining the attention of the council. "Yes Sanderson? Something to say?" "I'll go." "Such a fast answer, do you not wish to think it over?" "No. I'll go. If I can get us out of here just by finding this thing and turning it on, I'll gladly do it." "Very well. You leave in three days. Please be prepared." She nodded and left, the others watching her, some amazed at her forwardness, others seemed nervous to follow her example, either way she had made up her mind and headed for her solitary room to dwell on the fact that she was leaving. It was something she had always though about, but now she was actually living it. [color="#8B0000"][i]Okay, kind of a Fallout 3 inspired RPG, so keep in mind it will be mature; blood, gore, maybe drug abuse and possibly sexual themes, you've been warned.[/i][/color] It's quiet simple we're on a mission to activate the purifier so that the people of our bunker can colonize there and live peacefully. Simple, yes, but it will be a long journey and we will run into some trouble and side missions so keep that in mind while you type up your character. Name: Kaia Sanderson Age: 23 (try to make it no younger than 20, 20 is when we come of age and are allowed to work. Keep that in mind please) Job: Kaia is a nutritional expert and a cook, she also has some medical training on the side, not a whole lot but enough to keep a person from dieing til they reach a medical facility. (Two jobs are allowed, but you have to an expert of one or the other, and the other your just mediocre at if you wish to have two) Appearance: [url="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_OrLsoUQ3azg/TDgTesLv_aI/AAAAAAAAAI0/TDMrXJkA3dA/s1600/revy1.jpeg"]Kaia[/url] Her hair is long, down to her hips but she usually keeps it up in a pony tail or braid to keep it out of the way. She wears worn out black boots that are held together with neon blue electrical tape making the squeak when ever she walks. Personality: Smart mouthed and quick witted she has a dark, yet upbeat personality. Sometimes she is quiet and thoughtful, while others she is hyper and noisy it all depends on what the situation is and she's feeling that day. Weapon: The two pistols in the picture, but she is also skilled at hand to hand combat, being one of the best kick boxers in the bunker she is deadly accurate with her kicks and powerful enough to dent the steel walls. Writing snippet: (Mine is an example, make sure you describe your daily routine to some degree as I did, and your trip to the council office and thoughts on the mission they presented us with and the choice you now have to make)[/font][/color]

There are some among us who are born unique. We don't ask to be, but we are. In the early days those like us were either feared or revered. Having these powers made us not unlike gods to these primitive people. However, as mythology and faith gave way to reason, the definition of our kind changed ultimately from God to Psychic. The exploration of psychic power as a weapon has been around as long as our kind has existed, but it really met it's heyday during World War II. The NAZI's were obsessed with finding a way to weaponize us. To make us both pliable and reliable. Not wanting to be out done, many other governments around the world sought the same kind of advancement. The Third Reich fell without realizing it's goal, but the various programs around the world continued on anyway. These programs have gone by a variety of different names, depending on where you live, but the current slang among us is 'The Division'. They horde psychics and do every thing in there power to train and prepare them for life as soldiers. Those who resist or refuse are often held indefinitely, if not killed outright. The only hope for escape is to run and never stop. Some have grown tired over the years and have decided that they would rather fight. To this point no one has ever even gotten close to a successful assault on any Division center. With the combined strength of hundreds of movers, bleeders and sparks, matched with the security of hundreds of watchers and shadows, there is just no way to get close to them. Which has never really bothered me personally. I've always been pretty good at running so I'm happy to just keep going. But this doesn't work for some people. Recently there has been some big commotion about an incident in Hong Kong. Apparently 'The Division' lost a syringe full of that strange chemical that's suppose to boost our powers. Now, I know that sounds pretty cool, but considering the fact that the stuff has apparently killed thousands of psychics, just in it's initial application, I can't stay far enough away from the stuff. And besides even if you survived there is a whole variety of treatments you would need just to keep the radioactive material in these injections from melting your insides. But this has been the spark many have needed to move forward with their crazy plan. Why would anyone go through with this, you might ask? In some cases it's about equal rights. The belief that we are people too and shouldn't be experimented on. For others it's about revenge. When they find us, bad things tend to happen to our friends and family. My father was a watcher, like me, and when he refused to join they came for him and my mother. When my dad realized that no matter what he did, they would chase him, he gave me a single slip of paper and a watch and told me that as long as I did exactly what was written on this piece of paper, exactly when it said to, I would be able to safely escape the city. I never saw either of them again. As sad as that may sound my story isn't unique. For others it's about power. They think that things should be the way they used to be. You know, when we were Gods and everything. But no matter the reason, the goal is the same. 'The Division' must go. That's where I come in. My name is Sam Harris and last week I saw something kinda strange. I saw myself sitting on a park bench all by myself. Then suddenly this guy in black coat just walks up to me, hugs me, hands me a letter and tears off. Unfortunately that was as far as my vision went, so now here I am, sitting at this park bench like I have been everyday for a week. I have no way of knowing which day since my vision didn't give me any time indicators other then shadow positions to indicate time of day, roughly between 2 and 3 in the afternoon, and this one location. I usually only use my power to see short distances into the future, handy for escaping a dangerous situation before it even becomes one, but I'm not great at the long off predictions, which is why the fact that this has taken a week now seems so strange. Normally I can only see two days ahead, and the most, but this is just crazy. My traveling companions are starting to think I'm nuts. Plus we've been here for a while and soon we are going to have to move anyway. Mike, our mover, has always been the antsy sort, so he just wants to get out of town because he's kinda bored of the back woods town. Sean, our shadow, is more skittish and just wants to bolt before the Division watchers start getting close again. And Paul, our shift, is just kinda following there lead since he doesn't give a crap one way or the other. I managed to get them to agree to another day, but if this guy doesn't show up today we're gonna have to leave. Sean is good, but if we stay still for too long, it's only a matter of time til the Division watchers find us. Change to is coming. You don't have to a watcher to see that anymore. The Division has made it their business to keep our existence secret, doing whatever is necessary to make sure it stays that way. But with all these new moving parts in play, it's really any ones guess when **** will hit the fan. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- [center]Psychic Classes [b]Mover:[/b] An individual with the ability to move and affect physical objects with their thoughts. Also known as telekinetics. [i]Limitations:[/i] A movers abilities are limited by their concentration and experience. Most are only capable of simple things (moving small furniture and people), but it is believed that with artificial enhancement, they could become much more powerful with much less time needed to train. [b]Spark:[/b] An individual with the ability to create flames with their thoughts. Also known as pyrokinetics. [i]Limitations:[/i] See above. Sparks face much the same trouble as movers. [b]Watcher:[/b] An individual with the power to see into the future. [i]Limitations:[/i] Though one of the most sought forms of psychics, they are also the most unreliable, due to the untenable nature of the future. Sometimes the simple act of seeing it can change it. [b]Shift:[/b] An individual with the ability to use their psychic energy to change the appearance of an object. [i]Limitations:[/i] The technique employed is purely illusory and has no real physical form. As such, most only shift objects of similar size and shape to the illusion they wish to cast. The illusions can hold even in absence of the shift, but the time is limited to only a few hours to a day at the most. [b]Push:[/b] An individual with the power of the persuasion, able to convince another into following there commands. [i]Limitations:[/i] The push can only employ the technique with direct eye contact. Their power over other psychics has yielded mixed results. [b]Sniff:[/b] An individual with the power to track another with the aid of an object belonging to ,or handled by, the person being sought. Power is connected to the olfactory system. [i]Limitations:[/i] The sniff requires both an object and a precise target to track. The must know who they are looking for or they just get images of any person who has touched the object in question. [b]Shadow:[/b] An individual with the power to block the tracking abilities of Sniffs. The power is less effective against watchers. [i]Limitations:[/i] The average range for a shadow is only about 20 feet. While more powerful ones have been recorded, most are limited to mentioned range. [b]Bleeder:[/b] An individual with the power to create intense sonic pressure from their mouth. The common cause of death from their attacks is internal hemorrhaging. [i]Limitations:[/i] The attack used by the bleeder is a focused attack. Meaning it is only effective one direction: Forward. The bleeder must turn their head to re-aim the attack. [b]Stitch:[/b] An individual with the power to heal any injury inflicted on a person short of amputation, so long as the other person is still alive. They are also capable of using the power to inflict harm. dislocating joints and even causing internal and external tissue damage. [i]Limitations:[/i] The stitch must have physical contact with the targeted person in question. [b]Reader:[/b] An individual with the power to read the thoughts of another. [i]Limitations:[/i] The reader must be within a certain distance. The further from their target, the less affective their ability to read their thoughts becomes. Beyond 150 feet it becomes impossible. [b]Wipe:[/b] An individual with the power to erase memories from the minds of others. [i]Limitations:[/i] The wipe requires direct physical contact with the target. Specifically the head. [b]Faze:[/b] An individual with the power to pass through solid matter. [i]Limitations:[/i] The concentration needed to use their ability leaves the faze mentally drained. Prolonged or over use can result in mild to severe migraines and even brain damage if pushed too far.[/center] --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- For those who haven't already noticed, this is a RP based on the 2009 film Push. You do not have to have seen the movie to understand, as I have already given all the needed information above. All the different types of psychics from film have been included, as well as two I came up with myself (Fazes and Sparks). I'm looking for at least three people to play Sams' traveling companions, but this isn't mandatory. If you have a character of your own, go with it. I'll fill in some of the basic information I'll be needing on each character. [b]Name: [/b]Sam Harris [b]Age:[/b] 21 [b]Gender:[/b] Male [b]Appearance:[/b][url="http://i31.photobucket.com/albums/c384/GeneOutlaw/cameron.jpg"]Sam Harris.[/url] He is about 5'9 and 167 lbs. He has two scars on his back from being shot by Division sniffers while trying to escape them. [b]Personality:[/b] He isn't the leader sort. He still finds it shocking that the other three have fallen in on him like they have. He has a strong sense of responsibility and always follows through on what he starts. He feels responsible for the well being of the group and is constantly looking out, sometimes at a personal cost to himself. [b]Psychic Class:[/b] Watcher [b]Writing snippet: [/b] See above.

[color="#FF0000"]Warning: This RPG is rated M for Mature[/color] Good day soldiers, you have all been called here to partake in one of the most dangerous missions ever assigned. You are here because you are the best of the best, each the utmost expert in your own field. You have been gathered from all over the world to face the most dangerous terrorist organization ever formed. As you all are no doubt aware, Canada launched a massive nuclear strike against America not one month ago. They used their former close ties with the U.S. to gather information about major military sites, and then decimated each with a series of neutron bombs in one massive attack. Now America is calling for help and we've gathered you to go into Canada and end this before it becomes World War 3. You will be stationed in a remote underground base in north Vermont, just across the border from both Ottawa and Quebec city, each holding a majority of Canadaâ??s military strength. Keep in mind, regardless of the strike on America, over 85 percent of those still living in Canada are unarmed civilians. Satellite images show us there are however, many heavily armed troupes throughout Quebec City and Ottawa, keep on your guard soldiers. You will be briefed on the final details of your mission while on the aircraft taking you there. Be careful. Be efficient, and make your countries proud. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ OK so as you've recently read, this is a military based rp, you will be playing the best of the elite forces throughout the world. You will be sent into Canada to rid the world of their nuclear strength before it sparks a 3rd world war. You will get the full briefing when I post the opening threat in the Theater. Base facts: each of you are highly trained soldiers from around the world, you will probably have a basic pistol of some sort as a side arm, a main weapon, and probably some sort of special equipment associated with your specialty. The Specialties now are: Medical specialist, Demolitions, Infiltration/Recon, Heavy weaponry, Long distance elimination, Close quarters Combat, and Endurance specialist. [b]Medic:[/b] If you're the Medic you are a specialist in treating the injuries of your allies and yourself. You probably have equipment for dressing wounds in stead of a third weapon, and probably have less lethal grenades like flash or smoke bombs. Medic's are also specialists in most kinds of medicine, how each compound effects curtain injuries, as well as how curtain drugs or injections will react with healthy enemy troupes. In dealing with various wounds and researching all kinds of injuries, you also know how best to take an enemy down (if the 'unload your weapon in his direction' isn't the best way at the time).All soldiers have basic first aid training, but your knowledge is above and beyond the regular standard. As this specialist your medical experience rivals that of most surgeons. [b]Demo:[/b] If you want to be the demolitions expert it's probably because you love seeing things explode. The Demo specialist has extensive training in all things that go 'boom'. Your third weapon is likely to be some sort of rocket launcher or other high explosive. Demolitions experts also bring with them numerous types of other explosives, rather than carry flash bangs or tear gas, your basic equipment probably includes C4, incendiary grenades, and maybe a basic fragmentation grenade or two. Along with the title of Demolitions specialist you have a mass knowledge of violent chemical reactions, knowing the ins and outs of every explosive on your belt. This allows you to also make make-shift explosives from various objects found throughout the environment. You know precisely when, where, and how much explosive is needed for any job. [b]I&R:[/b] OK so you want to be the Infiltration & Recon expert. This specialization includes extensive training in stealth and observation, you are the shadow the team will send in to scout out high risk areas. You have the skill and training to get in and out of virtually any room or building unseen and unnoticed. Your extreme education of stealth tactics and human psychology allow you to predict where the enemy is looking and when, leaving you the exact moment to sneak past, or walk right up behind them and put a knife in their back. Your weapons are most likely allot quieter than the other specialist's most if not all of your firearms wear high grade silencers for silent execution. [b]Heavy Wep:[/b] Utmost opposite of the I&R specialist, the heavy weapons expert is one of the loudest members of the team. He may not have the experience with explosives that the demolitions expert does, but he has just as much capacity for destruction. Your third firearm is probably an automatic shotgun or some sort of assault rifle with heavy armor piercing bullets, louder than usual but also causing more damage and havoc. The heavy weapons specialist is a one man army. Carrying more ammunition than the other specialists, sometimes in place of a pistol, he by far has the biggest hard core guns. As the heavy weapons expert it's your job to clear out rooms of hostiles and lay cover fire for almost the entire group, and boy do you deliver. [b]L.D.E:[/b] The Long distance execution specialist is a master of far ranged weaponry and killing at extreme distances, he is by far the groups best marksman, often getting ten headshots while the others simply fill a hallway with gunfire...or just fire. Your third weapon is almost definitely some sort of high caliber sniper rifle, your position is usually far behind the rest of the team giving highly accurate cover and taking out the most high profile highly guarded targets. Laying on a rooftop across the road from the building the rest of the team is clearing, they will rely on you for high caliber 'one shot one kill' cover fire, which you give with pinpoint accuracy. [b]C.Q.C:[/b] The yin to a Long distance shooter's yang, the close quarters combat specialist is the foremost expert on killing up close and personal. You are highly trained to disarm and eliminate your targets within one to five feet of you. Your third weapon may be a second pistol giving you more versatility with close range shooting, you're also the one on the team best trained in hand to hand and general melee combat. We have knives for utility and last resort, your knife is probably your best friend, always at the ready for a quick slice or stab that will bring down anyone around you. [b]Endurance:[/b] The endurance specialist or sort of a jack-of-all-trades. As the endurance specialist you're a little stronger and hardier than the rest of the team. You get up faster after being shot, you shake off shellshock in and instant, and you are overall tougher than most. Your endurance training leaves you more resilient to all forms of damage and fatigue, you are better at climbing, swimming, and holding your breath. AS the endurance specialist not only are you a tough as nails soldier dishing out as much as you can take, you're also a constant drive to the rest of us. Your undying determination and resiliency serve as a motivator for each member of the group to keep fighting no matter what the odds. These are only the specialties I thought up with a friend who'll also be joining. If you have any modifications or specialties I missed that you want your character to dominate, go ahead and try it out. I'll send you a message if anything isnâ??t quite what Iâ??m looking for in this rp. Till then, good luck on your sign ups, I'll see you all in the plane. [u]Application's[/u] [b]Name:[/b](include nick-name if you have one) [b]Age:[/b] (we're all specialists, no younger than 30 please) [b]Nationality: Personality:[/b] [b]Appearence:[/b] (pic or description) [b]Specialty:[/b] [b]Weapons:[/b] (Primary, Side arm, And special weapon, also include any types of grenades your carrying.) [b]Outstanding assignment:[/b] (write a quick clip from your best moment, the assignment that got you recommended for this mission)

His work was done here, though he didn't feel a sense of being liberated, nor a sense of being blessed. There was more to do, as was his task here in the human realm. He and his allies were different than their bretheren, they were the ones protecting the truely innocent in this bloody war. On stepping outside, three more people greeted him, their own angelic appearences disguised as that of humans. The boy's black wings seemed to let off a dark energy, before they floated away as individual feathers. Their expressions were the same as his, they knew there were many other souls trapped like these had been, and needing to be found and released. Hoping on a motorcycle behind one of the others, they sped off. Following closely behind them were the other two angels. The boy gazed on into the sunset, the sunlight glinting upon his shades. And yet, the man before him on the motorcycle wasn't an angel at all like him, though still serving the same purpose as the boy. A demon who knew the same calling and duties. The line between heaven and hell blurred even more, ever more. --------------------------- In this tale, not every hero is pure. Not every angel is good, and not every demon is evil. Both exist on both sides of the war between these two great powers, while it seems their leaders turn blind eyes to the feuding between their charges. Demonic and divine...When the heavens act a mirror image to hell, how do you tell the difference? We are those in the middle, destroying those who make the humans suffer, whether they be angelic, demonic, or once human in origin. We are the protectors of the humans. We are angels, and we are demons, wings sullied by what must be done. Our appearences in our true forms differ as widely as where we come from, though we are united in our cause. That which goes bump in the night isn't always evil. As for our abilities, in either form we are in we have far more superior strength, agility, and speed than humans. Your muscles might be bulky enough to squash televisions, though there might be someone who looks like a twig that hurls tanks around like toys. Appearences can be deceiving. There are several major enemies, general things, and allies, for us to face or contend with as a situation calls for them. Here is a list: The Shikabane: There is meaning in an individual's death. Death is our final curtain call, our eternal peace with the world. But there are those who can't accept this and because of intense regrets and obsessions they had at the moment of death, they rise again as animated corpses with a human conciousness. But, this is extremely rare.These beings are called Shikabane. Almost always, these Shikabane begin to harbor feelings of hatred for the living, and so begin to use powers stemming from their obbsessions and the means of their death, called Curses, upon those still living, mercilessly murdering humans that cross their paths. These beings simply aren't human anymore, and take it out on the living. That is where the Shikabane Royals come into play in this deadly game of chess. They kill their own kind, in order to gain access to heaven, or peace, or something else entirely. No one is quite sure except for those whom Shikabane Royals bond with. This bond allows these particular undead to fight in human form, and to retain who they were in life. There is only a short time to forge this bond, so there must be a normal bond between the deceased and the Shikabane previously before death. If such a bond between the two becomes broken, or the bonded mortal slain, there are only two options left to a Shikabane Royal. One is to die, which is what usually happens, or they too become normal shikabane, and will normally begin to act just as shikabane typically do eventually. It is preferable to die, rather than become a true monster. Both the Shikabane and the Royals seem to be created far more often when angels or demons are near, though not nessessarily involved. This number increases dramatically the more there are in a given area. However, it is the Shikabane who are the only creatures who do not necessarily appear similar in appearence when in an alternate form. Shikabane have been known to take on other forms as well, depending on how they died. Shikabane Royals however only have one form. No matter which of the two are encountered, they all smell stale. There is only one way to kill a shikabane. You have to destroy its brain. The Angels: Heaven's mercenaries, armies, spys, assassins, and a multitude of other things. All manners of creatures comprise the forces of Heaven. Many, many lower ranked angels are little different in appearence than the same ranked demons, other than color and manner of clothing. Rumor has it these are more or less the angelic or demonic forms of various animals, and leading to this is their bestial movements and inteligence. Higher ranking angels have a human form, and are similar in appearence to their angelic forms. These angels truely have the sentiment of humans, though not all are the compassionate visions of typical theological angels. Just like humans, some have hearts consumed by evil, and perpetuate the war they have always known since the dawn of mankind against the forces of the demons. At this particular moment, the angels are more concerned with how long this bloody stalemate has lasted, and seek a way to decimate the forces of hell once and for all, for better or worse. The Demons: Theology depicts them as vile, evil creatures, all under the command of the fallen angel Lucifer, who perpetually wages war upon the heavens. In truth, Demons come in all shapes and sizes, and are ranked almost identically to the angels, the lowest being bestial in form. Higher ranked demons have human intelligence, and their hearts can be just as pure or corrupt as any creature, mortal or not. As are the Angels, so too are the Demons hellbent on destroying their eternal foes. However, not even they wish to remember just how this war started, they simply care about winning. It is rather disturbing just how much alike demons and angels act, especially in the concern of innocent bystanders, such as the humans and nearby wildlife. They often give neither pity nor quarter when it comes to battling angels, though in turn the Angels do the same. Will you join me in the hunt? Okay, here's the sign up sheet. Feel free to be as creative as you want, though I want a lot of details. Remember though, that even our second forms are humanoid, and our facial features and muscle structure don't differ that much between the two, unless you're a shikabane. All of us also have the ability to partially transform from human to our other forms. Name: Age: (if you had a mortal death, include it in with the overall age of your character. Race: (angel, demon, or Shikabane) Human Appearence:( Typically, we resemble who we once were in our mortal lives, though perhaps a more idealized version.) Second Form Appearence: Personality: (self explanitory) Weapons: (be reasonable, please?) Powers: (what kind of abilities do you have that aren't exactly normal? Do you weild the powers of water or ice? Or do you control the air? Perhaps conjuring fire is right up your alley...) History: (be creative. Were you human once? Or were you born the creature you are? What have you done in your life until now? Remember, Shikabane were always once human.) Let's get this party started