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The Harlequin

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[B]Semi-useless background information that isn't exactly relevant to gameplay, but should be read anyway[/B]

The Empire. A rather unauspicious, undescriptive, certainly unimaginative name. But all that is required. For it is The Empire. There aren't any alternatives. There certainly aren't any other Empires around to challenge it. On the surface, it reigns supreme. Not because it has its army, though not all powerful, is unmatchable. Not because of some arcane might. Not because it is just or fair. Not because it was sanctioned by any deity. The Empire rules for one simple reason. There isn't an Nobody wants to be in power. After all, isn't it better to get on with one's own life than to have to deal with other people's as well?

The globe has been explored. Every long forgotten cave and dungeon has been exposed to the light. All the evil monsters have been killed. All the good ones have been too. So all that remains is a status quo based empire on humans. The Empire doesn't expand. It has nowhere to go.

But then, where did everyone else go? Anyone who, in the long somewhat misty past, chose not to submit to this empire, all those non-humans who were persecuted, and the like. Surely, this not overly just, not overly cruel empire didn't simply exterminate them with their not overly powerful army?

You're damn right it didn't.

In the Empire's not particularly ornate or impregnable castle, there's a small room, with a mirror like hoop in it. It's fairly dusty. No one's bothered to replace the glass. Not that it ever had glass in it, but that fact, like the mirror's existance, is not widely known, and would be overlooked if it were.

Exile: [I]n[/i] banishment, normally as punishment for a crime or wrongdoing. A period of separation from a particular place.

Exile is not only a state of mind. Exile is a place. A very, very large place. It is a system of huge caverns, lying about a mile beneath the surface. A lot of the caverns are heated, there's ample food, though normally in the form of huge mushrooms or native lizards, and there are plenty of underground rivers.

So hey, there you go. The mirror wasn't a mirror. In its heyday, it once teleported malcontents, rebels, fey creatures of all kinds and anyone with the remotest hint of magical ability or some other kind of aberration down into these caves. The Empire no longer had to worry about them, they didn't have to slaughter them, and the process didn't raise embarrasing questions.

It did upset the natives though. There were three races living in Exile already, the Empire had never heard of them though. The Slithlerzaki, a race of humanoid lizards, the Nephilim (don't rant at me about what Nephilim actually are, I'm aware of it, but that's irrelevant here), a race of humanoid felines, and the Vahnati. Now, the Vahnati were a strange group. Physically, they were tall, spindly, and rather pasty looking. They had been around a few million years longer than anyone else in the caves, but that was no excuse. They were however, the most powerful mages around.

When the refugees from the Empire started to show up, the Slithlerzaki and the Nephilim simply because very hostile towards them as well. The Vahnati just went deeper underground, and none of the refugees ever found out they existed.

After a few centuries, the humans from the surface came out as the dominant race. The Nephils, the Sliths, and the countless diverse miscellaneous creatures from both the surface and from Exile, were still around, but the humans were no longer in a position where light skirmishes threatened them with extinction.

Once they'd established themselves, the humans, along with a few others, decided that getting home was the next priority.

They spent years researching teleportation and fashioning crude weapons from whatever they could. Then, finally, they attacked. The teleported into the Empire's central castle, and assassinated the Emperor. The Empire, quite predictabily, retaliated.

The Exile forces were slaughtered. The Empire didn't have skilled generals, or better trained fighters, though they did have superior weapons. They simply had the numbers, and the persistancy.

It was a few months into the war, which Exile was losing badly, when the Vahnati started showing up. They destroyed a of Exile's cities, and blockaded many areas with impassable magical barriers. No one had any idea that it was the Vahnati, because no one actually knew they were around yet. The Vahnati made contact sometime later, demanding the return of several important artifacts. A party of warriors from Exile retreived them, off the corpses of Empire soldiers. In exchange, the Vahnati basically wiped out anyone from the surface who entered the cave complex.

The war drew slowly to a close. The Empire, its armies beaten back and its citizens amazed that such creatures actually existed at all, welcomed the return of all the creatures from Exile. Even the Vahnati showed up on the surface every now and then.

So here we are, another status quo. There's always something though.

When former Exiled people and creatures woke up and found their towns surrounded by an impassible barrier, they thought it was a bad memory...or maybe a mushroom flashback. Turns out, they were wrong.

It seemed a pack of druids had gone crazy. Trees were appearing everywhere, animals were going wild, the earth seemed to have turned against those that inhabited it. People were scared, and had no where to run.

Then some bright fool suggested Exile. So the entire population of the surface, driven by fear, descended into the caves again. Most of them died. The former Exiles survived easily. The population of sentient life was more than halved. The caves couldn't sustain it. But no one minded, they were safe, and whatever terror plagued the surface, didn't worry them.

The third great status quo.

It was the Vahnati that broke it this time. They systematically started wiping out humans, Nephils, Sliths, and anything else they could get their hands on. People again milled around crazily for a while. This time, instead of some kind of cohesive movement, all sorts of actions took place. Some returned to the surface. Some stayed and fought. Some tried to make peace. Some explored new, strange caverns.

The Vahnati attacks stopped a few months later, leaving life again the spread out, uncohesive mass it was meant to be.

Forty years from there. Civilisation is starting to return properly, both on the surface and down below. Contact is frequent and friendly. The phenomenons that plagued the sentients for the past few centuries are starting to be explained. Another status quo.

This time, we get all the fun of breaking it. Or at least, helping it break. It's starting to anyway.

You see, through all this, there had always been the Empire. There had always been one, central authority. But someone had decided that idea didn't work, and now multiple goverments, kingdoms, democracies, theocracies, even the occasional pan-theocracy, though it tended not to work... were around. And this obviously lead to conflict. Mainly with the Vahnati. Their awesome magical prowess meant that even with all other sentient life (holistically, not neccessarily all individuals) matched against them, they still had a damn good chance of coming out on top.

[b]A few notes I'll have to mention[/B]

Yes, I know I took quite a tanget from the original Exile storylines, and played fast and loose with a few facts. I don't care.

I'm going to insist on a few things in this rpg. The main ones are originality or character, detailed as possible character sign ups, and a willingness to actually do things in the storyline. I've noticed in many rpgs that people don't have their characters run off and do exciting things because they don't want to ruin the storyline. So they sit there and talk, run out of things to say, no one posts, the rpg dies. This time, everyone is completely and utterly welcome to do anything they want with the storyline. Make something up, I don't care what, but just don't sit there. It doesn't matter, because the real storyline has nothing to do with the above. Of course, if you do get too cocky, or annoying, then you suddenly aren't part of the rpg anymore. I want originality, and manipulation of storyline, not reshaping the world to your liking.

So basically there is complete freedom. Do what you want to do, be what you want to be. A human, a Slith, a Nephil (PM me for further details on those races), a giant fish, or an intergalactic space ferrent. I don't care, provided you do it well. You can helping the Vahnati, trying to kill them, or running around whacking leaves off trees. Do it well, make an impact on the storyline, that's all I ask. But again, make a joke of the whole thing, you don't get in. Simple as that. I've had too many rpgs die horribly to give a damn about humouring people.

I lied above...it's not complete freedom. This is a fantasy rpg, keep it in character. (The whole no guns, no robots etc)

Obviously, I'll be screening sign-ups. Strenuously.

[B]Ye olde sign uppe form...[/B]


[B]Race:[/B] Be creative, and descriptive. One stipulation...no elves. I don't care if that offends some people, I don't want any elves. At all. But even if you do pick something fairly normally like dwarf or orc or dragon or whatever, describe in as detailed a fashion as possible.

[B]"Class":[/B] Nothing that actually relates to the game, or restricts your character in any way. It's just information for me about how you'll be playing your character. Again, descriptive, if you pick something even mildly esoteric.

[B]Bio:[/B] If you can't write a few hundred words, don't bother me.

[B]Description:[/B] Make it good. I'll accept pictures, but there had better be text with them.

[B]Other:[/B] Any other random trivia about your character, from what their dietry preferences are to what equipment they are carrying.

Alright, that's about it. Just remember, detail, a willingness to screw with the storyline, and persistance. The screening of sign ups is based not only on quality but also on how compulsively I know you post. (Apologies to anyone I haven't had much contact with).

*One last note: All references such as giant space ferret, making a living whacking leaves off trees, and listing dietry requirements are used as illustrations only, and they and their ilk should not appear anywhere. This rpg is not a joke....kind of weird for me really.[/font][/color]
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[color=blue]Name: Kristopher "Kris "Cornell

Race: Human. It's not creative, I know, but you can get bent.

"Class": Kris is a half human - half Vahtni

Bio: Kristohper was born of two surface dwellers. His mother "Kendra" was a Vahtni, who was raped by Kris' father(obviously) when a group of human's rushed her in the forest, beat her, and had their way with her unconscious form. Kris was raised by his mother among a large population of Vahtni. By the age of seven, Kris was the strongest adolescant in the village, being half human. He tought himself to fight with a sword that was given to him by his mother, who said that it was left behind by the group that had attacked her and belonged to his father. Since Kristopher recieved this sword, he has longed to plunge it into his father's chest, and let it rest there.
For many years he remained under the care her mother, and the other Vahtni present in the village. Kris tought himself to ride, and fire a bow, with great skill.
When he reached the age of tweleve, Kris began his part as an apprentice spellwielder. For the following eight years, Kristopher's life was nothing more then meditation, mock combat and studying prayers.
One sunny morning in the month of Rain, Kris was awoken by the sound of screaming accompanied by the smell of smoke. He reached for his sword, which was glowing from an incantation Kris hat uttered the night before, and opened the door of his hut. To his dismay his village was being attacked by a group of humans. The Vahtni were winning the battle, using their prowess in magic to dispatch the human marauders, but a few Vahtni had fallen in the battle. As the humans retreated, Kris sreached the slain for the only person that mattered to him, and found her.
He discovered her charred corpse under the remains of a hut that had been torched by the humans. The only give-away for her identity was the end of a pendant she wore around her neck.
He was soon informed that he must leave this village, as once any member of the Vahtni communtiy is orphaned, they are outcast until they reach the age of sixty.
Kris knew full well there was no reason to argue, and was more then willing to leave as he wanted to leave behind the memories of his mother, now dead.
Kristopher has now set out into the world, in an attempt to track down his father, and deal out a just punishment.

Description: With a name like mine who else could it possibly be... See Attachment.

Other: Kris carries with him a sack of gold coins, and his enchanted sword. He wears black leather armour, with a shirt underneath. (see attachment) He also wears the pendant he found on the remains of his mother. (see attachment}. He also likes to eat roast chicken...Hehehe there you go Flynn, some dietry stuff too.[/color]
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Race:Fairy if allowed

"Class":Mia is a mage,a summoner and pretty good in physical combat.

Bio:Mia is a fairy who has lived in the village all her life.Mia acts normal but people think strangely of her because of her wings.Mia mainly ignores them but sometimes she just has an urge to leave the big life and fly away.Even though she has lived in the village all her life she has always had a feeling that she doesn't belong there.Finally Mia was sick of her life in the village and everyone treating her strangely.She fled from the town and ran into the nearest place...the forest.

As soon as she entered the forest she felt like she was at home.It wasn't the same in the village.Here in the forest she felt more complete.Mia opened her wings gracefully and flew all over the forest exploring and seeing new things.Finally she settled down and saw there was a large tree with a giant hollow in it.Mia entered curiosly and saw that someone had lived in it.Mia decided to make it her new home and got somethings and began her new life,complete in the forest.

Description:Mia has chocolate brown hair that ends at her neck close to her shoulders,vibrant emerald eyes that shine with exitement and become a deep teal color when angered,casting a difficult spell that will take a lot of energy out of her or is concentrating very hard.She likes to wear a lot of rich blue.She wears a robe or tunic of the blue.She has made slits in the back of all her clothes to allow her wings to petrude out.Her wings are a fushia like color except there is more blue than pink so it makes it more of a misty blue/purple color.

Other:Mia has an Elemental Blade.It is silver and is long.Instead of having a cross-hilt it just goes into a hilt.On the blade is delicate designs and mystical words written in another language.She can use the blade to cast spells and use them through the sword like Steiner's Sword magic in Final Fantasy 9.She also has a long bow and quiver full of different types of arrows.The amazing thing is that they never run out.After using one it returns.The bow is made of willow and has a string with a notch stretching from the top to the bottom.Mia chose a willow for her bow because it can bend easily and won't snap easily if handled with care.Her last main weapon is a staff.It's made of polished oak and has the same carvings on it.On the ends are 2 silver caps.

I hope that's okay.It took quite a long time to think it all up.
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[COLOR=royalblue]Sceening? Peh, your screening is far to easy, but I'll subject myself to the humiliation anyways. And a side note: I will show up in the story later than everyone else. Why? My parents are cruel.

Name: Saitsune Megelani

Race: Water dragon, of Imperial blood, five claws/fingers, able to shift freely between the two forms.

"Class": Lady/Empress of her people.

Bio: The daughter of the First Golden Water Dagon, she is somewhat of an oddity. Her mother's power to harness the strength of the Dream Pearl was passed into her daughter, without the pearl. Therefore, her magic is only as strong as her body, which is substantial, but not all powerful. Her parents passed the kingdom off to her before becoming stars in the sky...the destiny of all ancient dragons. As all Imperial Dragons go, she is a fine specimine, but slightly bizare. Her desire to consort with mere mortals is not widely hailed as positive, and her age, 800, and lack of husband are vaguely disturbing. So...to quiet the masses, she has decided to go into the upper world and see one worty of her hand.

The pearl from her mother was lost, perhaps to an Earth Emporer, perhaps to the Moon dragons. Either way, she also seeks that which was her mother's. Saitsune has pride, a great deal of it, but she is not over confident. The power to change her shape is simple enough, after all...her teacher was the greatest of them all, White Serpent. That perhaps, explains why her most common dragon form is that of a human girl's face and torso and the tail of a white serpent. Beauty and death intertwined.

On the surface, she is wary of strangers, keeps to herself, and is slightly ill at ease. In the water, she is powerful, overbearing, and prideful. But she does have good reasons to be so....they are her home, and everything beneath the seas is under her hands.

Description: Obviously, her skin tone is a shifting blue silver, and her build is both slender and slightlly muscular. Her hair is erratic in length, shifting with her moods. As a humanoid, she is tall, pale, and very fragile looking. But she still posesses the savage strength of her kynn and the five claws that are strong enough to maul a lesser dagon's face off.

Other: Food is non essential, water is. She wears nothing when she can get away with it, otherwise, she is covered by her hair. Weaponwise, she relies on her teeth and claws, and sometimes, her tail. Yes she can fly, and yes she can hypnotise.[/COLOR]
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[color=blue]*cracks knuckles*Let's give it a shot...
[b]Name:[/b]Karl van Osterwald



[b]Bio:[/b]Karl was born a simple peasant in a small, out of the way village. He grew up leading a normal life, helping with chores, and so forth. Then, one day, a maruading band of bandits, thieves, and other cutthroats descended on his village. The villagers fought back as best they could, but were killed, almost to man. During the fighting, Karl was trapped in a ruined building when it collapsed. Karl was only 13 years old.

A few days later he was dug out of the rubble, battered, bruised, uncouncious, but alive. His rescuer was one Jamek van Osterwald, a Paladin of the Order of the Sacred Dragon. He nursed Karl back to health, and took him as his own son. Karl was left with a scar that ran acroos his otherwise handsome features. They traveled to one of the Order's many monasteries and he was taught the Order's teachings.

The teachings are as follows:
1)Dragons are Holy Creatures, the ones made by the Gods in the beginning. Do not harm them.
2)Help the weak, for they are precious.
3)Hunt out evil and destroy it for they threaten the Sancticty of life.
These are the three beasic teachings.

Karl was trained as Templar by his own father, and learned how to use a sword, shield, and other weapons, as welll as the powers that were granted to those of the Order, among which are healng spells, as well as shield spells.

Karl trained for 6 years to become a Templar, finally departing the monastery at age 19. His adoptive father, Jamek, left him at a crosraods, after a tearful farewell, both knowing this might be the last time either would look upon the other's face.

Karl traveled the land, helping the weak, and hunting down evil where he could find it. after two years, he is an expert swordsman, and relies on his own inner strength to get through hard times. He is a wanderer.

[b]Description:[/b]He is tall, dark haired, and blue-eyed. He has a vicous scar running across the left side of his head, marring his face. He has a calm demeanor about him, and if one were to look in his eyes, they would see a calm soul, but there is pain bneeath the surface. One would also see the determination he has to continues on his never ending quest.
He is typically dressed in armor, helmet, gauntlets, and riding boots. He rides a horse, a longsword at his side, his shield on his back. The shield bears the mark of the ORder, a silver Dragon on a black field.

[b]Other:[/b]He has a deep and a biding hate for bullys, and one of his dreams is too meet, or see, one of the Dragons of Legend.

His powers include several healing spells, a shield spell, a small bless spell. [/color]
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[font=gothic][color=darkgreen]Name: Elairith

Race: Nephilim/human

Class: monk

Bio: Father Morecrott, a respected preist in a human town, had an affair with a Nephil Woman who was passing through with a merchant
troupe. When the woman returned a year later, holding a child, Morecrott had a heartattack. When he returned from the monastary healers, the woman had left the half Nephil girl and was nowhere to be seen. Morecrott accepted the child as an an orphan, and didn't tell her any other story as she grew.
Elairith into a beautiful, pale skinned young woman with deep, purple red hair that cascades down her back in loose waves. She has a distinctly cat-like face, and is very thin and lithe.
Raised in the monastary her father works at, Elairith has just celebrated her seventeenth birthday with three hours of penance and a particularly satisfying loss of her virginty behind the kitchens to a young monk who now would cut himself open had he thought she would like it. She tended to have that effect on people, though.

Description: Hair as mentioned, small build. Likes wearing monks robes, black, hooded, as many layers as possible. Her father often locks her up after finding concealed weaponry. Her sixteenth birthday present from her father was being allowed to keep the silver ring she pushed through the centre of her lip and kept there. It earned her strange looks from the monks, and three nights prostration in the east chapel. Dusk till dawn, a chalk line drawn around her clothing so she could not move, lest chalk be found on her clothing, earning her another night.

Other: A good strength in the legs, can jump up high distances and land effectively. Will never tire of flirting, with any one or anything thing that has a voice. [/color][/font]
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[font=gothic][color=indigo][B]Name:[/B] Qyrain Alethyne

[B]Race:[/B] Outsider - Planar Void - Shadow Archon. As stated, a planar creature, though from the area of non-existance that lies basically in the centre of the universe, a planar void that keeps tha various realities from crashing into each other. A Shadow Archon is a collection of negative energies, in essence it is bundled unlife. As it exists as a pure energy state, has no natural physical form. When forced onto the material planes, is forced to shift its energy lanes into alignment with a known signature of positivity in order to continue stable existance, and avoid nullification. One this shift is made, it cannot be realigned, so the Shadow Archon is forced to remain in that physical form until released by death, or until it returns to the void. Qyrain's case is so far unique, and shall be explained later.

[B]"Class":[/B] Dervish. The Dervishs were the former elite of The Empire's armies, unmatched in combat, whether against man, beast, magical creature or planar entity. There was no uniformity to them, they were not trained for the post, they were chosen. All that was required was combat ability. This was not as simple as being able to hit something until it fell over, this was everything from tactics, being able to assess an opponent's weaknesses from anatomy to mind set, being able to survive inhuman amounts of damage, to diplomacy and knowing when to avoid a fight. The Dervishs were an indepedent unit, they fought their own battles, with their own weapons and tactics, at their own timing, at their own cost. There was no rank structure in the unit itself other than mutual knowledge of one's comrades abilities; they answered only to two people. Qyrain, the captain of the unit, and the Emperor. And then only sometimes.

[B]Bio:[/B] The multiverse. The term given to that various quantum zones, physical, and astral, otherwise known as the planes of reality, that make up what mortals try to sum up as everything. Of course, these physical, semi-physical, or ethereal substantiated entities don't make up everything, but they make up the everything that anything bound by material laws can comprehend or interact with. This reality is too limited to describe what exists externally to it, and this reality is too severely limited to even exist in any kind of parallel state to "everything else". This reality, however, is the quintessence of existance. It is the most primal form of the quantam zones. It could be said that this reality is the heart, the centre, of all existance. And at the centre of this existance, is the very anti-thesis of everything else. A Planar Void, a resistance against everything that exists that fufills neccessary quantam balances. If counters the "gravitational" force that all existance exerts on everything else. This force is exerted due to the fact that everything stems from the same source, and seeks to recalibrate itself into a single "plane". If not for the void in the centre of the Primal Reality, the multiverse exist as a single quantum zone, albeitly one where all things were infinitely and equally possible and impossible.

This void then. It exists as dark matter, dark energy. An inverse to everything else. As such, it exerts a negative force equal to the existential-gravitational force exerted by all positive existance. And as positive existance has sentience, so must negative.

Qyrain came into being when the multiverse did. He existed a non-static energy, a warp and weft of unlife and unmatter within a realm of unlife and unmatter. It was time uncounted and irrelevant before self-awareness manifested into sentience, but Qyrain grew sentient, and interacted with his surroundings. Interacted with others, in varying degrees of maturity themselves. A form of intelligence results, more a recognizant form of causality than a true mind, but it developed, aided by others and its surroundings.

Qyrain came to full intelligence millions of mortal years before The Empire's forebearers had evolved from primitive single celled organisms. The first planets were yet to undergo primary succession. True positive life had yet to come into existance.

Qyrain watched, from a metaphorical rather than literal, darkness. He was present as true life unfolded its expansion, he watched with a disinterest born of complete opposition. The others around him, all with their separate identies, watched, and said nothing. Nothing needed to be said. It was outside, outside the fluctuating boundry that marked the void.

Then, a shock. Sentience manifested in these living beings. There was debate. There were arguments, for the first time in existance. There were opinions, for the first time in existance. Qyrain watched passively as those around him attempted to find out what to do, or even if anything needed to be done. It was eventually decided that someone would try to enter that realm.

Thousands of attempts were made before success, but the number of entities that surrounded Qyrain seemed no less. All who entered the realm were nullified, into true nothingness. At last, an entity realigned itself with the quantum phases of this new realm, and contact was made successfully.

These new sentients were unaware of the void, and those that inhabited it. They were harmless, and underwent a phenomenon known as "death", at seemingly random intervals, or upon physical contact with an entity from the void. The outsiders withdrew, quiescent for now.

These beings, as well as being sentient, also had a sense of identity. And this was the catalyst for Qyrain. For, out of all the shifting possibilties, a being in the mortal realm came into existance, that Named itself, on a far deeper level than the tag given for recognition among mortals, Qyrain Alethyne.

The planar entity watched with interest as it was sucked through to the positive realm. It watched with interest as it melded with the positive version of Qyrain Alethyne, creating a previously unknown phenomenon. Duality. The existance of both life and unlife, positivity and negativity, black and white. Universal perfection perhaps.

Qyrain, the planar entity, supplied the mind. The mortal Qyrain supplied the form. Qyrain watched with interest, then sudden concern, as his life unfolded. For new sensations, known to mortals as "emotions" plagued him, and he knew how to deal with them not. Centuries passed, and Qyrain grew accustomed to pain and emotions, and bodily sensation. He noted with interested, and something known as "relief", that he did not succumb to that random end known as "death".

At last, the Empire was founded, and Qyrain watched it spread with interest. He joined its army as a form of learning, and found his nature made him an easy match for any being of this realm. Among the hard, perfect warriors known as the Dervishs, with their often wild and raucous ways, Qyrain developed true personality. Duality at last. Now, Qyrain existed as a quasi-mortal, unfettered by any, who exists simply for the wonder of sensation. Any sensation. Pleasure of pain. Qyrain, the planar entity, is yet unsure whether it shall return to the void, and Qyrain, the mortal, is yet unsure whether it wants the entity to. Perhaps, in duality, they have become a symbiote. For in battle, Qyrain has been wounded, and both the physical and the mental have felt the pain and damage. Qyrain has yet to take a blow that would kill the mortal frame, so the effects of one are yet unknown.

[B]Description:[/b] Qyrain Alethyne, the mortal, was an archon. A bipedal being, vaguely humanoid in shape. Archons are about seven feet tall, and very slender. Rather than arms or legs, Archons manipulate their body into any required shape, keeping it bound together and functioning through the kinetic energy that is created. This constant energy flux may well have something to do with the duality phenomenon, and may explain why it has to date only happened once. Anyway, so archons, in theory, exist as merely a blob. They extend part of that blob out into an appendage, and manipulate it from there. The ulimate shapeshifter. Qyrain tends to use the form of a human for daily needs, but is known to resort to a lythanoid on occasion.

In human form, Qyrain is again seven feet tall, and slender. His skin is almost translucent white. His eyes and hair, which exists on his scalp only, are jet black. That hair falls just past his shoulders. Tends to wear a black and grey leather brigandine, and black pants.

[B]Other:[/B] If anything comes up, I'll explain it then.[/font][/color]
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[font=gothic][color=indigo]Ha! It's also a classic example of the person who actually payed attention in Physics, Bio and Chem. And read a few to many books.

And besides, who are you to talk of "sad"? This coming from a five-armed water dragon who just [i]happens[/I] to be an empress? Tell me my dear, do we have any insecurities we need to work out?

Hehehe. You know you had that coming.[/font][/color]
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[color=darkgreen][font=gothic][b]Note: Raven's entry into this RPG, although as yet not accepted, may be retracted. She is looking for further evidence of friction between the creator of the RPG and the afformentioned "insecure water dragon".[/b][/font][/color]
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[color=royalblue]Five arms? *counts arms visible in the picture* ....yeesh you're blind. Don't worry Raven, I have minimal interest in a male that would most likely squander any wealth I have as the leader of my people....and go off and get some scullery maid pregnant at the same time. You're safe to do as you plese. Anything that ammounts to more than a casual flirtation, and you can kill him.[/color]
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[QUOTE][i]Originally posted by Raiha [/i]
[B][COLOR=royalblue]Race: Water dragon, of Imperial blood, [b]five claws/hands,[/b] able to shift freely between the two forms.

[color=indigo][font=gothic]You were saying? I did say that I was taking the description off the text.

And why are you insulting Qyrain? Scullery maids are certainly not his type. And Raven can kill me anytime she wants, thank you very....wait a minute. Check that.[/font][/color]
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[font=gothic][color=indigo]Hmmm. That excuse might work, but claws tends to designate more than one appendage anyway. I believe the term you were looking for is "talons", rather than claws.

Oh, and I'll start this in another week or so. *Looks meaningfully at anyone who hasn't signed up yet.[/font][/color]
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Guest cloricus
Name: John Smith.

Race: Human, plain and simple human.

Class: None.

Bio: John is a blacksmith, mainly because that?s what he did for a living. If he ever forgot that that?s was he did he had part of his name to remind him, also it is what his families trade and had been since before people were concerned with recording things. Also as a last resort if he was absolutely stuck on the answer all he had to do was walk outside his family?s house and hit his head on their sign alerting people around them that they were blacksmiths, and sold a few other assorted products that had to do with horses and metal works. John was also rather tall being the only one in that town that hit his head on that sign; he never bothered to find out how tall he was because it just wasn?t anything he needed to know. His age was another mystery, well not really a mystery because he had never wanted to find out and no one had asked. He let a lot slip. The only things that he did remember was how to do his trade, who he was and one peace of advice his father had given him before he fell to his death after being pushed by some evil thing from some where that john had never bothered to find out, it could have been down. The advice was ?Only know what you need to know.? And this was how he lived his nice simple human life in the empire.

Description: Click attached photo.
OOC: **** text.

Other: He likes most foods and gets very edgy if there isn?t meat served for dinner on Tuesdays.
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[color=crimson]BAD CLORICUS! OUT OF ADVENTURE ARENA! *beats him with a broom*

Wee! Harlequin has recaptured the good ol' RPG arena feel from when Anti was around. For Anti!


[b]Name[/b]: Lascron Nevo

[b]Race[/b]: Runemaker Clansmen- Runeseeker Clansmen are tall, muscular people who have an affinity for instilling magic into inanimate objects- enchanting equipment, items and many other things. Humanoid in form, they are generally of a much taller stature- 7-8 feet. They have a much longer lifespan than humans from their survival capabilties and the magic that flows through their veins. They hate being controlled from thousands of years of either isolation between families or small anarchys- which leads to hatred for any form of government, benovolent or not. However, they arent rebellious to the point of bloodshed- they simply have an extremely powerful free spirit. Melting into the "Human" populus in the original exile, they are considered wrongly a race of humans- their actual species or how they came to be not known to the public.

An uknown tribulent period in the past caused them to split from the Vahnati, time aiding their obvious physical change into what they are now. Thusly, the magical powers of the Vahnati also changed with them, to the point they are the best in their field- and for a reason. However, in other magics they are average at best, the Vahnati clearly retaining their powerful lead.

Also, Runemakers are more intelligent and philosphical than humans. Contrary to popular belief, most Runemakers concentrate on one facet of magic imbueing and dont generalize- thus, some are blacksmiths, others potion makers.. and yet others, are things beyond imagination.

[b]Class[/b]: [b]Animator[/b]- Animators learn, through intense study and meditation, how to create living statues, automations called murgolems that exist to do their creator's bidding. Animators apply their art to dead flesh, stone, even iron. Generally feared for this skill, its actually comes down to the skill of the Animator of whether to fear him or not. Not many exist, as it is a taxing process to learn.

Basically, this is the the power to bring something to life, specifically a sculpture created by the animator made from the aformentioned materials, and a few others.

[b]Bio[/b]: From place to place, from home to tent, across landscapes they did go. The Nevo family of Runemaker Clansmen journyed from Exile after the chaotic upheavil caused by the Vahnati- and they journyed happily in their new, free state. Their youngest son, Lascron reached the age of 16 one year after they escaped- the age when Runemakers decide if they wish to specialize in one field or not. Amibitious as usual, he quickly decided to undertake the difficult task of becomeing an Animator- a task alone which would take 20 years to master.

His first murgolem was 5 years into the program, a basic 2 foot tall helper made of stone. It became his little helper, aiding him whenever he saw fit- even sometimes in battle, have skin made of stone does help you know. Eventually, it had to pass away- and it did. Sentimentally, he chisled a small peice of rock from it and put it in his pocket, carrying it around ever since.

Dedicated and strong, he spent all the time he could studying. Another 5 years. This time, it was a murgolem made of flesh- 5 feet tall, skilled in the use of a rapier.

That night, a group of theives attacked his family's tents. His sister layed dead from the suprise attack, and in a furious rage he felt his flesh murgolem strike with sudden power- leaving a bloodbath in his wake. All of the theives were beyond dead, the murgolems power increasing as Lascron's emotions escalated. It too passed away, quicker than usual from a few injuries it had sustained in the battle..

His sister was buried, and in pure depression he consumed himself in his work..

The third and last chapter of his training came. 10 straight years of practiceing and studying- a few failures, some minor successes. He was ready for the final test of createing an Iron murgolem. On a stormy night, he raised his hands and put together iron into the shape of a man.. he felt like a God, but knew the golem could fail and possibly go beserk.

He looked at the inanimate statue of man.. and worked his spell.

It was a complete sucess- humoring himself, he made the Iron Golem shake hands with him before he purposely removed his spell from the iron, the pieces warping and implodeing instantly from the life magic.

Takeing his sculpting tools and a small magic staff, he bid his Nevo family farewell for now- heading out on a 19 year adventure, which would cast him downwards into the spirals of the Exile, exploreing new and deeper caverns, often with an Iron or Stone murgolem helping him remove obstacles and other such menail tasks. Treasure, new creatures, friends, new materials even were all laying in the deepest depths- but a few warned of a creature that was even further in, one that was guarding a vast, beautiful secret from all. Curious, Lascron went and what he found down there was indeed a hideous monster, hidden from sight for hundreds of years. In a fiercesome battle between murgolems and beast, the beast proved himself too fearsome to be put down by the few murgolems Lascron had taken with him to merely explore, not to wage a battle. With his murgolems destroyed, Lascron battled with his staff courageously, but, like his murgolems, the beast was too skilled, fast and powerful for him to beat. Leaning down, the beast took one of his claws and lashed Lascron's cheek open from 1 inch right of his left ear down to the edge of his left lip. The monster amusedly laughed at him, descending deeper into the shadows.. and twards this secret that Lascron surely wouldnt be pursueing again anytime soon. Takeing out a small piece of paper, he teleported to the surface, close to a small town..

He has appeared on the surface, battered, beaten, bleeding- heading for the nearest town to seek medical aid. The only thing keeping him from stumbleing being his staff. Slowly, he makes his way, his tools clanging in a small bag at his waist as he goes...

[b]Description[/b]: 7'3", muscular, toned. Attire includes a long black travelling cloak to keep out the elements, a classic loose fitting red shirt and black pants underneath it made of a lightweight material. Brand new to his look, however, is a soon-to-be scar that is currently slowly bleeding.

In personality, he is free spirited like all Runemakers. A bit depressed, he still retains a sense of humor and a great sense of adventure, even turning up as a mercenary when not exploreing for some in the Exile. He is a bit of a flirt, hopeless romantic, and generally aloof when in a good mood and especially when drunk. Serious if need be, he has many opinons on many things if you just ask him- otherwise, you might be judgeing a book by its cover..

[b]Other[/b]: Umm. He likes.. good.. food..[/color]
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Guest cloricus
*Gets out his Ken bashing shovel* :p
I never left, I've just been in a sim and it's got rather boring at the moment and until it picks up again I'm paying attention here!

Also who is Anti, when did harlequin become a mod and most importantly when is this rpg starting?

Anyway have to do up a plot for the next battle in one of the sims I'm in... Bye bye three hours!
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[color=royalblue]Harlequin became a mod yesterday around this time. Anti was an excellent sparer, better than some here *cough* you *cough* could ever hope to be.

Your sign up is too short, I find your avatar offensive, it starts without you.[/color]
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[color=gray]Hummm..Intresting. Darn shame no elves..I'da like to be Eve again. But no matter. ^_^ I had idear to be a fairy but I no wanna look like a copy cat. um..yeah you'll see. And as u know flynn, as johns sis, he who has a tendency to be Mr. Hero and run off . I od the same but..more...consertive. lol. :)

[B]Name:[/B] Naryu

[B]Age:[/B] 17

[B]Race:[/B] Mist Nymph ~ Mist Nymphs do not have any distinct shapr or form. They are in fact mist. Made from the verry fibers of water and air. not entirely air, not fully water, but attains the essence of both. They are most certinly shape shifters. For if they didn't assume a form they would appear a low cloud or a patch of fog.

[B]Class:[/B] Shape Shifter ~ Any form the mist takes on is like looking at whatever they turned into, but a black and white form of it, minus the black. More like shades of grey. Naryu's main form is of a girl, long hair and not much clothing. Abel to fly through the air as well as meld with water.

[B]Decription:[/b] Her main form is that of a human. Tall and slender, stanfing about 5'9. Tall for a female. She laso likes taking on an ppearence of Nephilim. she finds them facinateing. The clothign her form does have is that of plain stretched across her chest bra/top, strapless and no bottom to it. Stopping just under her bust, tucking under her chest supporting it. the top of it goes just over, so nothing is revealed. Her bottom is a skirt. Tied to one side, it is short, going half way between her knees and hips. If she was not wearing her skirt it would be one single piece, must be tied to make a skirt.

[b]Bio:[/b] she rarely interacts with other people, she has spent her life exploring the world above. Terrified of dow below. She quests to find someone else shuch as herself, or she would settle for a friend. Her only companion the air itself. She can also, make herself see through. But not entirely invisible. If you look at her to long when she is invisible you can see how what is on the other side of her looks almost watery. This also makes her an almost unbeatable fighter. Since you can't hurt her, she can certinly hurt you. Physical attacks are useless, but magic, she had little tolerance. She strives to gain magic powers of her own, if even for protection. She hopes, with all her heart, to be able to one day learn to be a solid, colored, form. The closest shes come to color is the slight green tint of her hair and the silver chain about her ankle. A gift from her grandfather, that she may one day find color.

[B]Other:[/B] She has an unpeckible attraction to food. Since she can't gain weight or nourishment from food, it goes through her once chewed. She cna still taste verry well. There for she eats like a pig. And she has an almost un controllable desire to find a man, or copanion of some sorts.[/color]
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[I] looks at the one holding the shovel [/I] I don't take kindly to any whod attack my clansman. [I] shrugs [/I] good 'ol insulting Raiha, thank ye for the compliment. And a new mod...hope its better then some of the old ones... [Edit] ah hope revoked...already seeing stupid things from my PTV (point of view) aw well maybe the next one...[/Edit]


Name: Zacherai Mansfield

Race: Human.

Class: Philospher/Leader - also a novice swordsman

Description: Zacherai is 17 and stands about 6' tall. The first thing anyone notice about him are his hair and eyes. His hair going down to the bottom of his shoulder blades, and is dark brown, typically pulled back into a ponytail. His eyes are deepset and project an age any seasons older then he actually is. He has a thin frame that belittles his strength, esspecially in his long legs. Everything else is fairly avarage and unremarkable.

He grew up in a middleclass household that placed emphasis on learning. His father was a merchant determined to raise a child capable of becoming something better, They living in one of the few petty democracies. His mother had ran off while he was a child. While other kids played he learned from his father. When other followed local religion he philsophised with his father. He grew up with few friends, who and plenty of time to learn. One of the many subjects he studied religiously was battle tactics and stratgium.

The few friends Zach did make were often similar to him, intelligent and thinking for themselves, not jsut accepting status quo. They also shared one opinion in general, a belief that the division in humanity was perilous. Often debating and planning Zach thought of a new empire. Zacherai's only other pastime in his teenage years was a weekly session with an ex-soldier.

Upon reaching his 17th season Zach "graduated" from his fathers school, having read all the books and learned all his father had to teach him, his father sends him out, to a learning of a new sort, to travel the world and learn from expiernce. His old sword teacher gave him a sword with which to protect himself and with that and rations he sts out to learn more of the world, and carry through his own plans.

Other: Zacherai carries a sword and his clothes...he likes Dried meat..and..TEA!
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