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JT Darkfire
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[COLOR=DarkRed][SIZE=4][B][CENTER]It all began with a sword...[/CENTER] [/B] [/SIZE] [/COLOR]


The great sword of legends, Rakavolver...the sword said capable of rending a soul from it's foe's body with but a single strike, a sword with the power to trap the souls of the wicked...a holy sword.

The evil Demon King Serevayis struck terror in the hearts of all those who saw him, using his great powers to torture the living, and torment the dead. All who ever withstood him died in an instant...all except one man.

The great sage Chronos, Rakavolver in hand, fought with Serevayis for three days straight, neither giving an inch, neither drawing blood. Chronos knew that this battle could have no victor, so in a last effort he charged recklessly and drove the sword through through the demon king's chest, while Serevayis's sword pierced his own. As he lay dying, Chronos invoked the sacred chant..."Fortunna Eternum, Seleza Camphrit..."

With those last words, Serevayis's soul was trapped for what would hopefully be all eternity...unfortunately, Serevayis did not intend to go down quietly, either. He called upon a dark and ancient magic, leaving behind six remnants of himself as his body slowly turned to stone...those remnants were swords of unimaginable strength...each one enchanted, each one cursed...

[CENTER]200 years later...[/CENTER]

The paladin Malkior knew that the holy blade Rakavolver lay within this village, and he knew that if he could make it his own, he would be the undeniable captain of the holy templar knights. As he searched the cave, he found marks of what must have been a great struggle...

"It's got to be around here somewhere..."

Just then, Malkior spotted a giant of a statue. It was a monstrous form, a beast that could only be the Demon King Serevayis...plunged within the titan's chest was a sword, it's eerie glow catching Malkior's eye...a nearly silent dirge filling his ears.

"I...must have it..."

____________________________________________________________________


Well, there you have it, the intro of AotF! This story is not your traditional story of good vs Evil because, honestly, no one in it is all that good.

Let me explain...

When the Demon King's soul became trapped in Rakavolver, it corrupted the Blade. It filled the future wielder of Rakavolver with a terrible greed...and that greed was for power and souls. The tainted Rakavolver became a soul eater, instead of a soul seal. With each kill it grows in power...Hence, Malkior is the main antagonist of this plot.

However, let's not disregard the other six fragments of Serevayis's power...the six swords. Each one is (and I know it's cliche) a different element, but it doesn't stop there. They all have unique powers and a deadly sin attached to it. The list goes as such:

Fire, a sword of tremendous bloodlust that makes the user both skillful and immune to all forms of pain...contains the vice Wrath.

Water, with the power to shapeshift both itself and it's user...contains the vice Envy.

Earth, with incredible strength and a hard to penetrate defense...contains the vice Sloth.

Wind, with increased speed that is nearly faster than the human eye...contains the vice Lust.

Light, with the power to heal the injured...contains the vice Pride.

Dark, a sword that casts illusions and has the power of invisibility...contains the vice Gluttony.

Those six swords will be used by our protagonists of this story.

Please remember to keep in character if you choose to be a sword wielder...we need characters who are willing to stab each other in the back at a moment's notice...also note that I don't wan't them all to be in a party...that would be a bit riddiculous, since each is after the other's sword. However, if a few meet each other and form a temporary truce, that's fine by me.

Well, here's the sign-up:


____________________________________________________________________


[B]Name:[/B]

[B]Age:[/B]

[B]Physical Description, or Image:[/B]

[B]Sword:[/B]

[B]Personality Traits:[/B]
(Before and after finding the said sword)

[B]Short Bio, or Sample of Your Writing:[/B]



____________________________________________________________________

Well, that's that. I look forward to RPing with you!
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[B]Name:[/B] Choryu

[B]Age:[/B] 36

[B]Physical Description, or Image:[/B] He stands at 6'7". He has pure blue eyes and silver hair down his back (like sephiroth's). he has a long white overcoat and a sword sheath on his back.He has a pair of black pants and black boots.Thats when he's in his original form.

[B]Sword:[/B] Water

[B]Personality Traits:[/B] He was a kind giving person untill He found the sword of water 'Hanwei' then his life style changed greatly, he quickly became one of the worlds most infamous thieves. He hates everyone mainly for no reason.And he dosn't like people who try to be his friends because he dosn't have any friends already, why should he have any more.

[B]Short Bio, or Sample of Your Writing:[/B] He heard the story of Chronos and Serevayis at a veary young age , but he never really believed the swords existed until he saw someone wielding the sword of wind.He thought to himself 'acctually fighting that fast is impossiblem or at least it is for anyone without magic.' then it hit him the swords are real! From then on he deticated his life to finding one of the swords for himself, and after all hope seemed to be lost he found it, the sword of water. This was a dream come true.He then spent 12 years training in the art of shape-shifting. Once he had it down-pat he tested it by running into a bank and killing all of the guards and takeing all of the money. He then ran out of the bank and changed form into an old man with a walking stick. As the authoreties arrived they ran right passed him looking for a young man with a long broad sword.From there his crime spree expanded and grew into one of the most infamous thieves in the world.
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[size=1][b]Name:[/b] Amelia Winta

[b]Age:[/b] 23

[b]Appearance:[/b] See attachment

[b]Sword:[/b] Wind Sword ? [i]Isaura[/i] (as seen in the attachment). [i]Isaura[/i] is a slender, sleek blade that resembles something like a katana. As the Wind Sword, it resembles the fluid beauty and elegance of the wind. [i]Isaura[/i] literally means ?child of the wind?.

[b]Personality:[/b] Amelia was 13 when she found [i]Isaura[/i]. Some say it was fate, for 13 was the age said to be when a child is most venerable to the Devil?s workings. To Amelia?s parents, the coming of this sword was like the Devil possessing their youngest daughter. Before the sword came, Amelia was like every other girl of that age ? young, innocent and unaware of the evil that lurked in the world. However, when the innocent young one touched the handle?s sword, her temperament completely changed.

She became serious and focused. It was almost in an instant that she changed. The vice Lust was injected into her veins. With this vice, Amelia found out that she could never have a lover and would be forever alone. This caused her heart to become cold and closed. From that moment on, Amelia would never been the 13-year-old girl she was once ? unless Lust completely took over.

[b]Sample of Writing:[/b]

The soft sounds of air flowing through the bamboo forest were music to Amelia?s ears. She stood, frozen, with [i]Isaura[/i] firmly gripped in her delicate hands. Soft ripples of sound approached her ears. They were far away ? but only for the moment. Soon, they would tread in her pure sanctuary and dirty it with their filthy ways.

The three men stomped through the delicate green growth on the ground. Strings of curses flowed from their mouths as freely as birds fly in the sky. They were clad in armour ? but from what.

? Where is that *****?? one said, his greasy brown hair slicked to his large head.
? They said she?d be in here,? another said.
? She must be a witch? to enchant us like that?? the last muttered.

A strong breeze blew through the bamboo trees. A slight whistling sound was made when the wind passed the long leaves of the plants. The trio stopped in their tracks when they heard nothing but the wind. Moments ago, they could have sworn they could hear the ringing sound of a sword being sliced through the air. But now, there was nothing.

Eyes wide, they looked around cautiously. The hairs of the back of their necks stood. Someone was here. A shadow caught their attention. It was just for a moment, but it flit from tree to tree.

? WHERE ARE YOU WITCH?!? one bellowed.

? Here?? came a whisper from behind them.

Blood sprayed across Amelia?s face as she disposed of all three within three seconds. She stood, with [i]Isaura[/i] held in the air, blood dripping from the blade. Three corpses lay on the ground behind her, blood being soaked up by the earth.[/size]
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Kura? I looked at some of your former posts, and decided to hold a spot.

As for bodhidharma...Please...pretty please...work on your spelling, grammar, and punctuation. After you do, I may consider it. Sorry, don't want to sound arrogant or anything, but a mature themed RP requires mature posting quality.
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[B]Name:[/B] Tollan Elsonan

[B]Age:[/B] 29

[B]Appearance:[/B] [URL=http://i31.photobucket.com/albums/c384/GeneOutlaw/Argentosoma010071.jpg]Tollan[/URL]. He stands 5'9 and weights in at 174 lbs. His physical scars are only as deep as his inner ones. His eye was stained white many years ago in a terrible fire, where most of his other scars originate from.

[B]Sword:[/B] Fire.

[B]Personality:[/B] Cold and distant by nature. He has a terribly objectified veiw of women and sees them as little more the sexual servants. He's a harsh critic of others and is never one to extol another, regardless of what they may have done. He prefers to be on his own and doesn't turn to others for help, believeing that any problems he has can be dealt with by himself. Beneath this cold exterior is a vast pent up anger and hatred from old wounds that never quite healed.

[B]Bio:[/B] Born to a prostetute, with no knowledge of his father, as for the fact that there far to many possiblities, he had a rather poor childhood. That's provided you could call it that. He took care of himself for the most part, letting the streets be the ones to raise him. His mother was less then nurturing and would often times just through him out when she had business. She would often times defend herself by saying that it was for his own good, or that this was all she could do for him. In reality, she probably enjoyed her profession just a little too much for those to have convinced him of that. She didn't realize just how loud she was, and it was more then enough for him to pick up on it.

When he was 16 his mother finally died of syphillis. When she did Tollan felt neither sadness, nor anger, or even pity. He was left with much the same distaste and lack of compassion in which he had always recieved. She was given no real funeral. He just buried her in the forest and left only a simple headstone as a marker. With that chapter of his life over he took flight from the village and has been wandering the free world ever since.
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