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JT Darkfire

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[COLOR=DarkRed][SIZE=3][B][CENTER]Conquest: Arcana
[I]The land of Arcana is a strange place. It?s four countries house unique creatures, and even more unique individuals. The Empire of Aeron, with its swift Rocs and skillful archers. The Island nation of Porthos, with its nimble thieves and mighty Sea Serpents. The Desert country of Geo, filled with mighty warriors and the impenetrable Gollem. The molten territory known as Pyrax, with its master craftsmen and deadly Dragons..

Each one of these nations held an unstable alliance with one another. The slightest spark could set off an open war.

And that?s when it happened.

A young dragon managed to escape from its hatchery and attacked the neighbring country of Porthos, throwing them completely off guard and destroying the home of one of Porthos?s most prominent politicians. Taking this as a sign of aggression, Porthos prepared a counterstrike. Aeron and Geo, believing that the treaty had been violated and that they might be the next target, took to arms. This led to an open war, consuming the continent in total warfare.

Lives were lost, homes were destroyed, and bonds were broken?

...I wish I hadn't been there.[/I][/COLOR]

In this RP, you have plenty of freedom. You can be citizen or soldier, Portan or Pyraxian, Cadet or Captain...The list goes on.

This RP isn't just about those who fight in the war, it's also about all of those caught in the middle; the children who lost their father in a border skirmish, the wife who is left alone to care for her family, the young cadet who was forced into a war he/she thinks is wrong...This isn't just the battlefield, it's life in general.

Remember, this isn't all serious. It doesn't have to be completely depressing. There can be humor. Heck, I'd prefer it, since the subject is a bit...dark. We need a few people who, although they take it seriously, don't want this to be excrutiatingly painful to read.

However, due to the subject matter, and the range of what could happen, I strongly suggest that only those who are mature enough participate in this work.

Well, here is a sign-up sheet for this RP. Please keep inmind, you don't all have to be soldiers, and the specialties listed for the nations aren't meant to be restrctions, but rather guidlines. If you are from Porthos, you don't have to be a member of the thieves guild.





Nation: (any among the four listed in the plot description)

Occupation: (be as creative as you want to be, but keep it semi-realistic for this medieval-style world with fantastic creatures and minor magic)

Family information:

Anything else: Don't be afraid to include anything that I haven't listed.

Brief sample of your writing: No offense, but spammers aren't welcome here. These are very serious topics, and we want to keep it that way.

Well, that's all there is to it. I look forward to spending time with each and every one of you.
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Name: Neko

Age: 19

Gender: Female

Nation: Porthos

Occupation: Warrior

Family information:She was abbandoned at 7 and has held a grudge against her parents eversince. She has no idea where they are, but she wants to find them and to speak her mind.

writing sample: Neko held her hands out and smoke surrounded her. Her clothes changed to an all black outfit. She had a tightly fitting shirt and a loose short shirt for maneuverability, Fishnet laced her legs and her feet were bare. In her hand rested a long samurai sword, waiting to be used.
She snuck out her apartment door and to the nearby corner and pressed her body against it. She carefully looked over the edge and there it stood. An evil spirit, a demon, stood right there tormenting a young child. Neko waited until the demon had turned the corner and she jumped. She shoved her sword into its side. The spirit?s screams echoed trough out the hallway and she sliced off its head. Blood hit the floor and the little kid screamed.
?Now, now, it?s alright?? Neko bent down to say but didn?t have a chance to finish before the girl ran away screaming ?Mommy!?
?This is the thanks I get for saving peoples lives every freakin? night,? she sighed. ?Sometimes I hate this job.? She walked away, out the apartment complex?s door and into the cold autumn night.
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[COLOR=DarkSlateBlue][FONT=Comic Sans MS]Name: Miru Ame

Age: 28

Gender: Female

Nation: Aeron

Occupation: Mother and also a slightly skilled archer.

Family Information: Miru was married off at the young age of 17 because of her parent's wishes. She had married the son of a high priest in their country and had actually found life peaceful. When the war suddenly began she was stuck back home taking care of her five year old daugher Fayza. A messenger from the army came one day to tell her that her husband was killed and his body was to be burnt. Not feeling safe in her current living area she decided to try and keep moving for the sake of her and her daughter.

Writing Sample:
From 'Sketch'

Allenjay picked up his forgotten pencil off the ground. It had been in that exact same spot two nights ago. He couldn't remember why he had left it there, it was his favorite pencil and he took it everywhere so he could draw on the go.
He sighed and let the pencil fall back to the floor, it was of no use now. His sketchbook was gone and all his hopes of ever getting into art school was shattered. Whomever had it now, held his whole life in their hands...if they haven't gotten rid of it yet. Allenjay turned on his computer to check who was online this late in the day.


Allenjay sighed as he sat down ont he bench, he had been looking around town all day and he had still failed to find any trace of his beloved sketchbook. It was no use now, that sketchbook was a good as gone.

He started walking back home and took the steps two at a time to get up to his apartment and ran into the same guy from this morning causing him to drop the bag he was carrying.

"Aw, man. I'm sorry. This is the second time today that I've ran into you, I'm just a big clutz."

Allenjay looked and up almost stopped breathing, this dude was beautiful. Long pale baby blue hair pulled back to rest at the base of the neck, slightly glowing orange eyes with red flakes in them. His face was pale with high cheek bones and a cute button nose, he also had a silver hoop earring in his left ear that just made him look so much more mystical.

"Don't worry about it. I was just heading out t-"

"My sketchbook!!" Allenjay snatched his sketchbook out of the dude's bag and hugged it to his chest. "Where did you find it!"[/FONT][/COLOR]
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[FONT=Times New Roman][COLOR=DarkSlateGray][b]Name:[/b] Scout Orinthos

[b]Age:[/b] 34

[b]Gender:[/b] Male

[b]Nation:[/b] Geo

[b]Occupation:[/b] His formal title in the Geo Army is "Scout," but everyone in the armed forces refers to his position as "Golem Master."

[b]Family Information:[/b] He doesn't see them much now that the war is on, but he has a loving mother, a proud father, and an admiring younger sister. However, he almost considers his golem, [URL=http://ddo.ogaming.com/gallery/albums/concept/iron_golem1.sized.jpg]Naxos,[/URL] as a brother.

[b]Anything Else:[/b] Orinthos is well-built and his head is bereft of hair save for a short beard. His weapon of choice is a sturdy warhammer.

[b]Brief Writing Sample:[/b] I wrote this last year for extra credit in English class. I know, it's sci-fi, but I can write fantasy, too. There was a lot more than this, but this little bit is long enough...

As Uri and the Rag Man stepped past the last outcropping on the steep trail to the summit, she mused that should she jump up, her head would break the cloud layer. At last, an overlook was all that lay between them and the mist-shrouded ground, far below. The stunning vista offered a breathtaking view of the ruins of New Feltan.

On the planet of Turos, winters were harsh, with bone-racking chills that shattered windows and took the unwary. New Feltan was abandoned early in the colonization effort to the unforgiving cold, and the ages had taken their toll. Many skyscrapers leaned crazily, icicles hanging from them like glittering fangs, while gliding Gilthas made their nests among the empty traces of humanity. A menacing glacier was ponderously advancing upon the dead city, promising to wipe it completely from memory.

They stood there for a time, Uri shivering in the spring's still-biting air, the Rag Man silent and still in his billowing, frayed cloak.

Uri broke the awed silence.

"That must be the saddest, loneliest thing in the universe," she remarked.

"What is that?" queried the Rag Man.

"An abandoned city."

The Rag Man remained silent, and Uri took this as a sign to continue.

"All of mankind's dreams, aspirations, breathed into this sprawling metropolis, only to abandon it. That city is lonely and cold. We left it to the elements, as uncaring as the breeze, and now only the scavenging Gilthas remain."

The Rag Man again maintained his expectant silence, and so she continued.

"They should have stayed, fortified it against the climate. New Feltan could have been a grand, splendorous thing, a monolith that withstood the tests of weather and age, a tribute to mankind's will to survive."

The Rag Man spoke.

"You have much to learn yet, young one."

Uri broke her sight away from the hollow, echoing ruins far below to turn her slightly incredulous gaze to the Rag Man.

"How so?"

"While tragic it may be, an abandoned city is by no means the saddest thing in the universe. What you must learn is that this existence is by no means restricted to mankind alone. What matters is not defiance of the elements, but life itself perpetuating wherever it can, no matter the species."

He gestured to the graceful Gilthas soaring above New Feltan's ruins.

"We should perhaps even rejoice at New Feltan's abandonment. For had it not been left to the elements, where on this barren tundra would the noble Gilthas make their nests? Indeed, had the humans stayed, they would have undoubtedly destroyed the Giltha nests when they found them, perhaps driving them to a localized extinction. You have yet to learn that humanity is not the only species out there, although often it seems it strives to make that so. And that is why?" The wind chose this moment to howl up the cliff-face and blow the hood back from the Rag Man's head. Instead of a human visage, a reptilian, snake-like head met Uri's gaze. "?I renounced my humanity long ago."

Uri had become accustomed to the Rag Man's features over the several years she had spent under his tutelage, but nevertheless the drama of the moment struck her and she was taken aback. He continued.

"But the universe is no Earth. On what inhabitable planets we have found, life is difficult at best, and extremes of climate make survival all the more delicate. It was under this background that I developed my philosophy of self-modification to further humanity's survival."

"But master, could we not just use the nanos?" interjected a recovered Uri.

"Ah, nanomachines. But you see, young one, most of the populace currently does utilize nanotechnology to some extent. And although it does prolong life for some time, it reaches the point where all of the cells that make up the body become copies of copies of copies, cellular integrity is lost, and the body collapses. Nanos can only do so much without a constant feed of new material."

"The advanced nanos you provided did help, master. I feel better than I have in years. But?" A shudder ran through her, of which the cold was not the sole cause. "?But I could never do what you do to yourself."

The Rag Man was silent for some time, speculating.

"You have yet another bastion to overcome before you are ready, I see."

She made an inquiring sound.

"The first bastion is that of pride for humanity. That you are close to overcoming. However, the other is vanity. Another revelation you must have is that the human form is not perfect. Self-modification is not a practice to be ashamed of, to fear; it is not self-degradation, as others may label it. It is instead the practice of bettering oneself through science. If we use an animal's limbs, what of it? They are no lower than us. Animals and humans are kindred souls, both scraping out what life they can from a deadly environment. So if they lend a hand? or leg, as the case may be? who are we to refuse?"

The meager sun was nearing the horizon, and dark was approaching rapidly.

"We had best be off if we wish to make shelter before dark," noted the Rag Man.

"Master," called Uri as he turned to go. "One last thing, please. What happened to New Feltan?"

His serpentine eyes gained a faraway look.

"Pride. They were unprepared for the winter, and many had died before the evacuation order was given."

With that, he turned away and started down the ridge, Uri hurrying to keep up.[/FONT][/COLOR]
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[COLOR=DarkGreen][SIZE=1][B]Name:[/B] Padishar Creel

[B]Age:[/B] 28

[B]Gender:[/B] Male

[B]Nation:[/B] Porthos
Occupation:[/B] Thief (Famously know as the Scarlet Thief for his scarlet clothing)
Family information:[/B] Not much about Padishars family is known, only that his ancestor was named Panamon Creel and was the original Scarlet thief. But other wise Padishar tends to lie about what happened to his parents, each story is completely different from the last. But he does it all for specific reasons that he never reveals to anyone.

[B]Anything else:[/B] Padishar is a very out spoken and interesting person, he tends to lie about things anyone would think is important. Such as his mother and father, where he works, what he does or where he lives.

He also seems to have good leadership skills and willing to give his life up for another if they are his good friend. He may be a jokester and seems to have life in his palm, but he can change into a serious man and deadly if the situation calls for it.
Brief sample of your writing:[/B] Padishar held an ale mug in his hand and had his arm around another man, they both laughed and sang songs. Obviously drunk out of their minds, the clapped their beer mugs together and took deep gulps. The other man started to speak to him, his words slurred and his breath was stagnant.
?You know, this is a lot of fun. I have never gotten drunk before.? [/B]Padishar patted him on the back and took another drink.
?Yup, this is the simple pleasure of life my young friend. Enjoy it. But I must leave now.?[/B] Padishar took another long gulp and put the empty glass on the table and stood up. He shook his head and walked off, he walked out the doors and took a few steps before he laughed lightly to himself and put his hand into his pocket and drew a coin bag, he tossed it lightly in his hand.
?Idiot, never saw it coming. Getting drunk with he person I rob always works, and from drinking so much I really don?t feel it anymore.?[/B] He straightened himself out and shook his head. He spotted a large puddle from the recent rain shower and decided to use it as a mirror to further straighten himself out.

He could see from his reflection his scarlet tunic and pants, his signature clothing that earned his title. His sash was also a deep scarlet color along with a cloak, his hair was a dark brown and a beard was growing on his chin. His face had the look of being a little older then his actual age and his eyes were a piercing green color. He had that look of a fierce yet gentle look. He smiled at the reflection and swiftly pulled away.
?Still look good, even after drinking that much.?[/B] He said in a cocky tone and a smirk on his face as he disappeared into the night. Ready for some sleep after a odd day of robbing as usual.[/SIZE][/COLOR]
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OOC: I really like the sound of this rpg. At first I was worried that I might screw up my sign-up, so I didn't post one. Now, though, I think I ought to at least give it a try.

[B]Name:[/B] Felix Yevril

[B]Age:[/B] 15

[B]Gender:[/B] Female

[B]Nation:[/B] Pyrax

[B]Occupation:[/B] Dragon Trainer (works in the hatcheries)

[B]Family information:[/B] Felix comes from a large and diverse family that has roots firmly planted in every corner of Arcana. Until she left her home to work in the dragon hatcheries she shared a house with her parents, five brothers and two sisters, and four cousins. She still keeps in touch with her human family, but loves her new dragon family just as well.

[B]Anything else:[/B] Felix has a short, skinny body but packs a lot of punch. Her most identifiable features are her short, snow-white hair and her firey red eyes. She also has a lot of scars from unruly hatchlings and their over-protective mothers.

[B]Brief sample of your writing:[/B] Felix bit her lip as a messenger related the story of the rogue dragon and the war he had instigated. She pretended to be just as appalled as everyone else. She didn't want anyone to know that that particular dragon had been under [I]her[/I] watch.

Going back just a few weeks earlier on the day that started everything, Felix remembers herself waking up before daylight.

She stretched and quietly eased out of her pallet,then tiptoed past the snoring trainers. She slipped into her work clothes: Fire-proof under-armor, animal hide tunic and pants, and a pair of sturdy boots.

Felix walked down the corridor that led to her assigned hatchery. She could hear the young dragons let out yawing roars and it made her smile. She loved this job.

She stepped out into the large, arena-sized, space and headed straight for Gerinth, a large red dragon that had managed to evade Felix's every attempt to tame him. His impudence and spunk were what made him her favorite.

As she neared him, he blew playful smoke rings that encircled her. She giggled and fanned at the smog with her hands. Gerinth snaked his long neck out and rubbed his triangular head against her face.

"Heyyy!!" Felix squealed. "Don't think that being nice to me is going to get you any extra feeding time than everyone else!"

She side-stepped away from the young dragon and headed for the large doors that led to the feeding grounds. She pushed down on a large lever and the doors slowly creaked open. She whistled at the dragons and they flew out.

Felix had sucessfully trained the dragons to follow her whistle commands. When she whistled again, they knew that feeding time was over and they all hurried back to the hatchery. All, that is, except Gerinth. The red dragon continued to gorge.

Felix whistled again and then shouted out a series of threats and curse words at him when he paid her no attention. She stomped her feet and started to run for the other trainers to help her out when she saw Gerinth take off and fly over the mountain range that served as the boundaries of the hatcheries.

Felix stood there with her mouth agape. Not knowing what else to do, she decided to forget it not to tell the others of the mishap. One more screw up and she'd be out of a job.

She bit her lip again as she ended the flashback to the incident. Felix knew that she would regret that day and her lack of control over Gerinth for the rest of her life.
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[COLOR=Navy]Name:[/COLOR] Sca'alo Neeka

[COLOR=Navy]Age:[/COLOR] 17

[COLOR=Navy]Gender:[/COLOR] Male

[COLOR=Navy]Nation:[/COLOR] Aeron
Occupation:[/COLOR] Rogue/Grifter ( more of a semi-legal wanderer. ^^ )

[COLOR=Navy]Family information:[/COLOR] Sca'alo is the bastard son of a harlot. Born into peasantry, his mother sought food and shelter any way she could. Impregnated by a foreigner, she stopped her travels and settled down in a small village near the border. After birthing Sca'alo, she resumed her prostitution until she was struck by a disease, and died the next winter; Sca'alo was 4.

Sca'alo was looked after by his mothers few friends and distant relatives until he ran away at 9. He pickpocketed, lied, cajoled, lifted, snuck, and grifted his way through the next 8 years - until the war came. Now that Aeron is engaged in a war, trade has stopped, and people are afriad to travel. For Sca'alo, that means business is at an all time low. He decided to just skirt around towns and lie low until this whole thing blew over...

[COLOR=Navy]Anything else:[/COLOR] Sca'alo is a little on the tall, with long, sinewy limbs and a thin torso. He's quick, lithe, and good with small knives. He's not too shoddy with a shortbow, either.

[U][COLOR=Navy]**Writing Sample**[/COLOR][/U]

The man didn't look convinced.

"Sir, if you just allow me a close look at your rings, I can give you a very accurate appraisal!" Sca'alo practically pleaded.

"I told you, kid: I'm not planning on selling them! And if I were, I wouldn't get them valued by some scamp like yourself," the man replied.

"Well, I'm trying to tell you that those could be worth-"

"NOT interested."

Sca'alo shook the man's hand. "Well, it's been good talking business with you, Sir. It's a shame you don't want to sell."

With that, Sca'alo walked away with 3 large, ornate rings tucked safely in his sleeve. He vaulted over the wooden fence seperating the road from the market district, and sprinted gleefully between the stalls, seeking out the highest bidder for his new prizes.
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Guest bleached
Name: Aaron

Age: 20

Gender: Male

Nation: Pyrax

Occupation: Blacksmith for dragon weaponry

Family information: He is single and lives in his work. He has a small cot in the back of the shop that he sleeps on. He left his family to continue work on his favorite thing, making weapons out of nothing. He has been doing it from the age of 12, and has been known to be the greatest in the Pyrax area. To be as young as he is, that is a feat not many can hold.

Anything else: His muscle tone is very fine. He has a tan skin from the flames, and the muscles from swing his hammers. He is a master at the art of long arms, mainly because that is what he focuses on the most for weapons. He loves to swing them around at training targets, but he also likes to compete in local tournaments.

Brief sample of your writing:

[I]Clang, clang.[/I] A loud noise is heard in the middle of the night as sparks and a red glow appear, then vanish, and finally come back agian. A second later a loud sizzle is heard as steam pours out of the roof.

"There, it seems to be done. Good, and it is perfect." Aaron smiled as he tossed the blade in his hand. The lightness of the blade showed in the effort he used to toss it into the air.

"Aaron, is it not about time to cut that stuff out?" A woman showed in his doorway, smiling.

"Oh, hello Felix. Sorry, I am just finishing the blade that I am working on. It is going to be my masterpeice. A long arm of incomprable power. Unbreakable, even. Should be something." He smiled to her as he set the blade down.

"Ohh, well then I hope you get everything right. Tell me something, how long have you been making weapons for dragons and dragon tamers?" The bluntness of the question took him off guard.

"Uhh, well, I would have to say about six years. Why? Is it so hard to see that someone my age is able to make such weapons?" She giggled as she turned to leave.

"I guess not, hope you have a nice time finishing your blade. Good luck." She waved as she walked out the door.

"You as well." He called back, not knowing if she heard him or not. He slowly turned back to his work as the bell for nightfall sounded.

"So, for nine hours today, I have been working on this long arm. So it would seem that it is time for me to make the rod it shall go on." He sighed as he looked around the shop and saw a thin metal rod that seemed to be a dark grey. He picked it up and felt how light it was.

"Perfect. Tomarrow, I shall finish my weapon, then maybe, I may even be able to get a dragon myself." He laughed to himself as he poured water over the fire to put it out.
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