Kenso

[size=1]See, that's the thing here Tempest. In any RPG I've EVER played in that's [/size][size=1][u]lasted[/u][/size][size=1], the first rule is that you DO NOT control other characters. This system is new to me. And as such, it does mean something to me when a character with a definite fighting style (which has nothing to do with development within the story in the first place) is completely ripped from it. So I want to know exactly how this is going to work. It's not that hard of a question to answer, but it doesn't appear as though it's going to be.[/size]

[size=1][font=Verdana]I'm still waiting on an answer for the amount of control we're getting here. As it stands, it appears we're going to have a problem of one fighting style bleeding into the wrong character. Kenso isn't the type to push an attack. If the shot is blocked, he'd be out of there and planning the next attack, not shoving forward (which is tactically insanely dumb in a swordfight in the first place).[/font][/size]

[size=1]Gimme some time on posts. It's barely been two days. I can't necessarily post every day. It doesn't mean I'm not going to post. On a side note, if someone wants to pick up Mira as their secondary character, it might make character interactions that much more interesting. I would, but I wouldn't know where to start on playing from a female point of view. The only things I have really established for Mira are her looks, so it's pretty much free anything. ((Well, that and she's only about average intelligence and skill. She sticks out more because she's a pretty face than because she excels. Of course, Tempest has done quite a good job of starting to give her some personality, and I'm actually hoping Tempest will pick her up.)) I'm also all for at least Kenso/Dawn, if not a Kenso/Dawn/Galian triangle, but remember that no one has clearly chosen whether their light or dark, and that could make a huge difference all by itself (though I do technically know where Kenso's going). [/size][size=1]Ushima's post has just pointed out a severe problem here. How much control of our characters are we giving up in a spar? Kenso would not have done ANYTHING Ushima posted him as doing. I understand that we give up some control of our characters to other people in most RPs on OtakuBoards (something I'm still adjusting to and am not certain I'm particularly fond of), but there has to be a limit somewhere. I'm also curious as to how Domsu blocked an attack he couldn't see (as Ushima specifies that he opens his eyes AFTER the attack). On top of that, how are we going to determine the winner of a spar? Posting quality, or what? By story, at least right now, Domsu is already screwed in this battle, as he's battling the two top students in the school. I'm just trying to get a better grasp on how things are handled around here, as this RPing is in a style I'm not 100% used to. [/size]

[color=Navy][b][size=1]"Do your best, Domsu-kun." [/size][/b][size=1][color=Black]Kenso glanced toward the bleachers, checking to see where the voice had come from. He raised an eyebrow. He vaguely recognized that girl. Nephilim, if he had the name right. She was a senior, but didn't exactly interact with people much. It was rather odd that she'd actually have an interest in someone like Domsu, who Kenso and Galian hadn't realized existed. As he noticed the sudden boost in Domsu's demeanor, he nearly laughed. Then, who could blame the kid. After all, a spar was just that without some motivation. With a little motivation, it became a true battle. And with Mira sitting in the side lines, now was his chance to maybe draw a little of her attention towards him. Then again, perhaps Dawn could prove interesting too, if he couldn't catch Mira, though he definitely had his preferences. Blondes didn't generally make his list of possible relationship interests. He looked at Galian, then at Domsu, and took one step back. His hands extended in front of him, fists together, and he slowly pulled them apart, his keyblade, Delkir, materializing as he did so, as though he'd merely formed it out of thin air rather than summoning it to him. He turned towards Galian, who was to his right, his blade held low and back, pointed at the ground, ready to strike. Then he smiled. "Well, then, if we're all ready." Without warning or warmup, his right foot shoved off the ground, throwing him toward Domsu, as he pivoted on the ball of his left foot and darted forward, both hands on his blade as he brought it up, the shot clearly aimed to bring Domsu out of the fight quickly. [/color][/size][/color]

How soon do you want second characters? I'm not really sure what I want to do for one, as I'd only had serious ideas for Kenso.

[size=1][font=Verdana]Kenso had been running for a fairly decent period of time as he stopped to get some water, probably close to a half an hour. Of course, he hadn't really been running so much as jogging with intermittent sprints. He never understood the folks who just tried to all-out run for long periods of time. It was horribly draining on the body, and bad for the muscles. You were better off doing high-speed bursts, or a constant mid-speed somewhere between jogging and running. He raised an eyebrow as a younger-looking brown-haired boy approaching him. He knew the manner of approach, could read the body language like an open book. He was looking for a spar. But who was he? Kenso tried to place his face with a name, but was unsuccessful. He decided that the young man approaching him had to be mid-tier in ability, not good enough to quite stick out, but not so bad that everyone knows it. Not necessarily a bad training partner, but not necessarily a good one. [/font][/size][size=1][color=DarkRed][b]"Excuse me. Yes you, would you like to spar?" [/b][i][color=Black]Yes, you? [/color][/i][color=Black]By the gods, the young man was rude. If you believed someone worthy enough to ask to spar, you generally at least made some sort of effort to learn their name, and address them by it. He supposed the challenger had missed fighter etiquette at some point in time. "Kenso, if you please. And you are?" [b][color=DarkRed]"Domsu. Domsu Fernalik." [/color][/b][color=DarkRed][color=Black]Kenso just went to open his mouth to respond to the challenge when a familiar figure approached and spoke. [b]"Hey, Kenso," [/b]Galian said, his voice clear and unmistakeable. Kenso turned, motioning to the other boy to give him a second. "Yeah?" The next question stunned him. [b]"Would you mind sparring with me?" [/b]Kenso couldn't respond at first. Galian was not known to issue challenges. He wasn't known to turn them down, hence the reason he and Kenso sparred fairly regularly, but he didn't usually issue them. Really, it was something of an honor. But the other kid had asked first. Kenso began to turn Galian's challenge down for another time when a thought came to his mind. "Well, Domsu, this young warrior next to me, just asked the same thing right before you arrived. Normally, that would give him first dibs." He smiled. "However, I've got an idea. How about we make this a three-way spar, every man for himself? Seems fair to me, if you guys are up for it." His eyes traveled to the bleachers, spotting a familiar blonde head and a just as familiar, and moderately more preferred brunette. He smiled for a second. Why was it that Dawn always seemed to be at the track around the same time as him? Not Mira, no. She was a coincidental thing. She was more worried about Galian. But it hadn't really hit Kenso to just now that Dawn seemed to make a regular appearance at his training sessions, even if she was training herself a small distance away. He chuckled inwardly. That just meant he'd have to give them one heck of a show. [/color][/color][/color][/color][/size]

[size=1]Beep, beep, beep, beep, CRASH!! Kenso?s right hand came slamming down on the alarm clock to the right of his bed, nearly knocking off the nightstand, but managing to hit the button to shut it up. He glanced over, blinking away the blur. 7:00 A.M. He growled to himself. Seven in the freakin? morning, on a Saturday?! He really needed to start remembering to turn the alarm off on Friday nights, or maybe buy one of those ones with a Monday-Friday alarm, that would work nicely. Well, it couldn?t be helped. He was awake now, and wouldn?t be going back to sleep. With a yawn, he slowly crawled out of the bed, standing and stretching, various joints popping as he did so. He turned, quickly pulling his covers back up to the top of the bed and smoothing out the wrinkles before heading for the bathroom, leaving his pajamas behind him as he went. After the wakening effects of a cold shower, Kenso dressed, heading out after grabbing two glazed donuts for breakfast. Since he was wake, he might as well start training for the day.[/size] [size=1]?One, two, one, one, two, two, one, two, three, one, two, four,? a rhythmic count could be heard through the training gym as Kenso did some push-ups. His training attire was simple, a skin-tight dark grey muscle shirt and relatively loose black cargo shorts that fit his waist snugly enough that he could forgo a belt. His shoes were also black, with low-cut white socks. ?One, two, forty-eight, one, two, forty-nine, one, two, fifty.? Kenso pushed himself up and stood, his stunningly bright eyes scanning the room. Off to his right was a girl about his age, steadily jogging along on a treadmill. Her eyes were closed, headphones firmly set around the back of her head. She was tall for a girl, nearly his height, with shoulder-length medium-brown hair and natural red highlights. She was wearing a red sports bra and matching sweatpants. Kenso allowed his eyes to wander along the girl?s figure. Her name was Mira Helio, and Kenso had been watching her practically since she?d arrived at the academy. Of course, he never bothered approaching her, as he?d become fairly certain that Galian Nightsquall had caught her eye. Unlike many people, Kenso didn?t hold that against Galian. He knew Galian was a good guy, an excellent keyblade user, and someone who would respect a girl as he should, so if that?s how it was, that?s how it was. Besides, Kenso couldn?t blame her. Galian was an impressive person, one Kenso admired and envied. While Kenso was hardly unskilled or weak, Galian?s pure physical strength put Kenso to shame, though Kenso was faster. As a fellow master of drive forms, Galian was a good sparring partner and someone to learn from. Many of the practicioners of drive battling in the academy trained together that they might learn new forms from their opponents. It was a give-and-take situation that oftentimes worked well, and many of them were fast friends or bitter rivals. Kenso and Galian both had their share of bitter rivals. They were the top drivers in the school, and both had mastered many forms. Kenso lacked fast friends among drivers, though not on any fault of his or theirs. It was simply because he didn?t hang with them as often. Driving in all of its forms came naturally to Kenso, and he spread his time between everyone, watching those who used other methods of fighting, knowing such knowledge could help him drive better. He looked away from Mira as her eyes opened, and headed for the door. He needed to run, and unlike many other members of the Academy, he didn?t like to warm-up on the treadmill with a jog, let alone do the full run on it. A smile came over his face as he ran. He loved running, loved the speed. There was nothing quite like the feel of the air rushing over your skin and through your hair. As he made his way around the track, he wondered if anyone would be up for a spar, though it appeared that most of the early risers today were younger students.[/size]

[size=1]((OOC: I know, I kinda disappeared in the last incarnation, for reasons I'd prefer to not go into. I just couldn't keep up with things then. I should be better now. Heck, as crazy as things are in my life now, I NEED the escapes of my RPs.)) [/size][size=1]Name: Kenso Lairn Terenitio Age: 19 Blood Type: B+ Battle Type: Drive - As a driver, Kenso can respond to nearly any situation. His preferred drive is a dual-wielding gunfighting form. Magic Type: Copycat Magic - Kenso prefers to mimic the abilities of others, but to this day hasn't entirely mastered his magic (he doesn't retain most abilities permanently). Weapon: [url="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v389/Maverick_Kossuth/Keyblade.jpg"]Keyblade Picture Here[/url] Abilities: Kenso's magic is based on what's been used around him. He can't hold onto any magic as a permanent form yet. [i]Shadow Strike[/i] - Kenso focuses his energy into a quick dash and slash, leaving an afterimage for his opponent to dodge while appearing behind him and attacking. [i]Shadow Speed[/i] - Shadow Speed is Kenso's version of a haste effect. All of his movements are followed by a dark shadowy aftereffect. [i]Shadow Shield[/i] - A defensive technique Kenso only uses in the direst of circumstances, the shadow shield is capable of blocking almost any attack. However, Kenso has not yet come into his full strength, and Shadow Shield is an exceedingly draining technique. To Be Learned [/size][size=1][i]Dual Shadows[/i] - Kenso creates two afterimages in varying directions and distances from himself. The afterimages seem to move of their own accord, but can are actually controlled by Kenso, who must keep them in view. They're only used as a diversionary technique, and Kenso cannot damage an opponent with the after images. [/size][size=1][i]Shadow Swallow[/i] - Kenso forms a dome of darkness around his opponent blocking his opponent's sight. Kenso is quite capable of seeing through this darkness, as is anyone else beyond the original target. [i]Shadow Crush[/i] - Kenso forms very real afterimages of his keyblade in a sphere around his opponent, which then proceed to rush in at him in a piercing ball of death. ((Ultimate Attack)) Personality: Kenso is a relatively happy guy. He wasn't at the beginning, was even rebellious (hence the somewhat high age), but he's grown used to life at the academy, grown accustomed to his classmates. He's free-spirited and loves to have a good time. He's also very athletic, and loves sports, especially races. History: "A strong heart is required for a good life." I used to wonder what that meant. It was something my father always used to say, but it never made any sense to me. Until that day. They showed up. Military people of some sort. They wanted my father, said they needed his 'abilities'. I'm not sure he had a choice. I was just short of my 13th birthday. I got angry, really angy. There was just a flicker, that was it. A flicker of light in my hand. It looked like it tried to solidify, but I was so surprised it vanished. But they saw it. They said my heart is strong too, and I was going to come with them. Not to go to war, not yet, but I was going to go with them all the same. My father said that it was my destiny, as it was his. "There are responsibilities that come with a strong heart." That's what he told me. And so, I was dragged away to the Academy, to the rest of my life... Appearance: [url="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v389/Maverick_Kossuth/SinisterNationPic.jpg"]Kenso[/url]. Kenso's eyes are actually a very bright green, but that's the only difference.[/size]

[size=1][[OOC: I'm writing the bio assuming this takes place in present day, just for the purposes of dates.]] [b]Name:[/b] Gabriel Vincent Creatil - Not particularly fond of his first name, Gabriel goes by his middle name of Vincent, and very few people are even aware that it's not his actual name [b]Gender:[/b] Male [b]Age:[/b] 24, nearing 25 [b]Appearance:[/b] Vincent is tall, standing at a towering 198 cm (6'6"), his lithe frame looking ackward and out of proportion, with long legs that looked distinctly out of proportion with his comparatively short torso. He is lanky but well-toned, built more for speed than for strength, weighing in at just over 86 kgs (190 lbs). His hair is shoulder-length and strength, often held back in a tight ponytail to keep it out of the way in battle. Though naturally blond, he keeps it dyed a dark brown, with relatively subtle red highlights. His eyes are a vibrant electric blue, so bright they appear to glow in the proper light. Vincent is clean-shaven, his face kept just as orderly as his hair, with thin eyebrows that sit low to the eyes that sit deep in his head, a feature further accentuated by his high, squared cheekbones. Indeed, his entire face is distinctly angular, squared off, his features sharp and defined, like the muscle that lines his body. A practical person for the most part, Vincent's one excessive trait is his taste in clothing, at least when not dressed for battle. Vincent has a distinct interest in fashion and designs and makes his own clothes, which are painstakingly tailored to fit his form almost like a second skin, simply for the effect he knows it has on women, who he long ago decided were not half as immune to sex appeal of guys who are trying as they like to pretend (especially the ones who are already taken). Dressing for battle is another story. If battle-ready, Vincent merely wears pure black U.S. military BDUs, knowing full well that they are designed for efficiency in combat, fitting in a manner designed to give maximum movement in all situations with the least interference possible, and also tougher than anything to be found in the civilian world. [b]Specialty:[/b] Vincent is a dual-wielding specialist, capable of fighting with nearly anything you can wield in only one hand. He has a marked preference for more exotic weapons, such as nunchaku and sais, and has more than one weapon he's designed for himself and had made. He also works with various chain weaponry, weapons only someone who relies on finesse instead of brute strength can truly use. Vincent does dabble in magic, but is not particularly proficient in it. [b]Weapons/Spells:[/b] Vincent does not have a typical weapon to use, preferring whatever happens to be available from the Order. He does have a few weapons of his own, however. His favorite weapons are a set of matching sais. They are forged purely of steel, with grooves running throughout the blades. Within these groves is pure liquid silver, magically kept in its liquid state within the confines of the grooves. Upon contact with a Shadow Person or BEK, the silver instantly crests into sharp lines, designed to puncture anything internal as the sai is driven in. He has had numerous silver chain weapons of various sorts made for him, usually on a relatively short length of chain (about 3 1/2 feet), one end of the chain connected to bracers. ((For reference, think God of War, without the utterly obscene range. Perhaps magically enchanted so the blades can't turn back on him, so as to bypass the technical ackwardness of such a weapon, as you said we could get creative, and I really want to make a character who fights like that.)) The most powerful magic Vincent is capable of is channeling light through his weaponry, though he can only due it through silver. He only learned it as something for a defensive technique when he knows he's in over his head. It has saved him on more than one occassion, and he has yet to regret taking the time to learn to do it. He can also produce light of his own power, but finds it easier when using silver for a focus. Vincent also keeps two custom Reuger 9mm semi-automatics, with various attachments, including laser sights. He doesn't particularly care for guns, but he is hard pressed to deny there usefulness in the war against the Shadows. [b]Personality:[/b] Vincent takes a practical look at most things, though he has his moments of free-spirited uncaring. Tasks are meant to be approached in the most direct way possible, wasting little time in their accomplishment. In his eyes, the entire Order is a tool of the world, albeit a necessary one. Granted, it's a tool many are entirely unaware of, but it's a tool nonetheless, merely a means to an end, probably the only means to said end. He approaches each and every combat as a new experience, a new rebirth. Fighting comes as naturally as breathing to Vincent, and he is at his happiest in the midst of combat. Combat is his religion, his god, but he does not so blindly adhere to the tenants of violence that they bleed into his everyday life. He acknowledges that combat is not meant to solve most problems, and will merely make them worse. Vincent enjoys the finer pleasures of life - women and alcohol, and not necessarily in that order. He doesn't generally understand the concept of attaching oneself to a single other person, and the word relationship practically does not exist in his vocabulary. This isn't to say Vincent does not form friendships. Indeed, Vincent is as loyal to his friends as anyone could be. He just doesn't form serious romantic relationships, though there are rumors that he has multiple 'friends with benefits' amongst the newer, younger members of the Order - rumors he neither confirms nor denies. [b]Bio or Writing Sample:[/b] 1 May 1982, 00:13 AM: It was a dark, stormy night the day Gabriel Vincent Creatil was born - some would say ominous, prophetic of what his life would be. Vincent would argue this thought vehemently. Vincent led a fairly simple life in a small Montana suburb, nothing much out of the ordinary. He had loving parents, friends in school, fairly decent grades, and was naturally athletic. Like all children, he quickly found his own distinct interests. A fan of Eastern martial arts films, he developed a taste for combat and weaponry. Throughout most of his schooling, he has a different martial arts class nearly every night, and found that it helped him cope with the everyday stresses of homework and the numerous other problems associated with school. High school was, for the most part, fairly typical for Vincent. He was fortunate enough to have hit his main growth spurt of puberty before high school, and had none of the issues of being picked on that many younger high schoolers did. He stayed out of clubs and off sports teams, simply because they would conflict with his martial arts classes, a fact many coaches were aware of and annoyed by. He went through his fair share of girlfriends, made his enemies, the usual. Then came his senior year. That was when he started to really notice them. At first, he thought he'd just started being paranoid for some reason. After all, everyone thought they saw things out of the corner of their eyes all the time. So why was he so singularly convinced that he had every time? So he started researching in his free time. It took some hard searching, but he eventually came upon references to 'Shadow People' and 'Black-Eyed Kids' in obscure books of myths and legends. At first, he didn't want to believe it. Really, he was only being paranoid. It had to be that. But something happened - throughout the town, adults and many older high school students seemed to be getting weaker, increases in heart attacks and strokes were astronomical, and no one seemed to know why. But Vincent knew - or rather, he guessed. However, he could do nothing. He couldn't hurt them, and he couldn't tell anyone, because they'd only laugh. Then one night decided it all. He was with his girlfriend, who had so far managed to be OK. But without warning, without reason, she began growing weak. Vincent could feel its presence, that dreadful sense of wrong, could feel it trying to work on him also. He was stronger than her, a far more difficult victim, if mildly more satisfying. It diverted its power to her, with intentions to make him next. There was no need for a next. She died of an apparent heart attack in his arms. What Vincent didn't know was that the creature left, her life force providing the final boost to its already considerable power. But it wouldn't be the last he saw of it, and it would become the defining moment of his life. This was occurred toward the end of the school year, and Vincent graduated as normal, though the ceremony was understandably somber compared to normal, with so many people missing. It was after the ceremony when something strange found Vincent. A young child, as pale as could be, calmly walking up to him in the twilight just before true nightfall. His legs wanted to run, run so very far away, but his mind would not let him. No, it couldn't fight the urge to wait for the child to reach him. The child's head was down, eyes at the ground. [b]"You got lucky once, fool. Your luck has run out."[/b] Vincent could do naught but stare. He didn't even know this kid, let alone what he was talking about. But then the head raised, and Vincent saw the eyes. The eyes, blacker than the darkest night, unmistakeable evidence as to what the thing in front of him was. The desire to run finally won over. Never had Vincent moved with such speed in his life. He just ran as hard as he could for home, staying up with his parents all night (using the excuse of missing his girlfriend at the graduation). He and some friends were using the summer to go on a trip to Europe and were leaving in the morning. He would use that trip to learn more, and hopefully come back better prepared. He had no clue what he'd find. Europe held no allure for Vincent, its wonders lost on his wandering mind. He could not focus, could not bring himself to stop and take in the sights. But then they arrived in Rome, and he heard rumors of an organization. The Order of the Piercing Light - not just a religious order any more. Vincent never left Rome. For seven years, Vincent has served the Order. His parents aren't exactly happy with his choice in life, and they'd be far less happy if they really knew what he was doing, but they don't argue. (They believe he teaches martial arts somewhere in Rome - a very large lie, but they don't really know what else to think.) [[OOC: DONE!!!!]] [/size]

Hey, I'm not the only one who likes their popcorn biting back! I like my popcorn with lots of butter, a decent amount of salt, and Creole seasoning (which, by the way, has got to be one of the greatest smell combination of spices EVER). I'm very particular in how I do it though. I don't eat it out of the bag. Instead, I get a bowl, pour some of the popcorn into said bowl, then add seasoning. I shake up what I put in the bowl to spread the seasoning better, then repeat the process. I usually do it in four layers. It coats much better that way.

[QUOTE=taperson]200 on the prostitute, hands down. I hate anime... please don't kill me. I would just take the prostitute out to dinner. Haha. Would YOU rather... Hide a terrible secret from those closest to you and therefore have to lie constantly... OR Have that same terrible secret accidentally published on every web site known to man but never have to lie about it ??[/QUOTE]Hide it - eventually you'll just get so used to the lie that it would be second nature to you. Well, hopefully this isn't a repeat, but I'm not reading a full 27 pages here.... Would you rather .....be kidnapped by a sadist who will torture you for 12 hours a day for a week with no chance of being rescued before that time is up OR .....subject someone else to the same, with the possibility you might be able to get them early (and them knowing you chose them over you for the victim)

[size=1]Man, am I glad I popped in here. Oddly enough, I've never popped into Anthology before. This, however, was well worth it. Amusing, yet oddly dark, and somehow coherent (I'm not certain how, but it just works). I'll be keeping an eye out. On a side note, the albino line nearly killed me. [/size]

[size=1][font=Verdana]Tap, tap, tap....The rapid tapping on the keyboard echoed off the bare walls of the small room. The young man at the keyboard was tall, exceedingly so, or he would've been were he not hunched over a desk typing. He was quick, typing with only his right hand at speeds many people couldn't type at with one. It was a trick he'd taught himself to take advantage of his long fingers, features that tended to come with his height. He found it far easier than typing with two hands, which required him to have his fingers far too close together to be comfortable. He was capable of typing like that left-handed too, but his left hand was currently occupied spinning a pencil for no apparent reason, especially as there was no paper in sight. The young man's hair was wild, tossled, and short, two dark brown strands hanging down in front of his forehead, nearing his eyebrows. His face was covered in a thin layer of soft stubble, his facial hair for some reason never getting the rough feeling some men had to deal with. The stubble couldn't even be seen in the low-light of the room. His brow was furrowed in concentration, his eyebrows tight to his exceedingly dark brown eyes, effectively black due to the lighting conditions. His right hand moved to the mouse, switching from his word processor to his browser so he could look at the mathematics site he had up. As he read through the information on the site, his right hand danced through the air, as though he were doing the calculations on some invisible paper. The longer it went on, the faster he got, and the spinning pencil gained in speed also, his agitation getting the better of him. Then the young man noticed the pencil getting warm, no, getting hot, and tossed it up in the air, where it promptly split into a thousand pieces in a small explosion. [b]God-damn it! Not again!"[/b] He looked around for his pack of pencils and realized with annoyance that the one he'd just blown up had been his last one. He closed his eyes, breathing deeply, slowly, trying to keep himself calm before he focused that power where he didn't want it. As he opened his eyes, he stood, slipping his bare feet into a pair of black sneakers and grabbing a black unzipped hoodie to wear over his bare chest. Standing, he was an impressive figure - nearly 6 and a half feet tall and 230 or so pounds of well-defined muscle. It wasn't natural, at least not on his body, but he worked hard for it. Not because he wanted the power that came with that kind of muscle, or even the looks women tended to give him, but simply because he'd rather look like that then like the scarecrow he used to look like. His metabolism was simply too high for him to put on weight without making an effort, but his figure without the effort rather scared him. He didn't like being able to count ribs. He locked the door behind him, walking quickly but quietly to the staircase that would lead him down to the first floor from the 10th. It was a long walk, but he had a thing against elevators. As he stepped out the door, a slight smile appeared on his face for the first time when he turned left, in the general direction of his favorite 24-hour coffee shop. The night waitress, Nia, was cute, rather tall for a girl (a plus), with long, straight red hair and a gorgeous figure, around his age (20, though he thought she might be closer to 23), and tended to flirt with him, a fact that he was not too oblivious to catch onto. He stayed in the coffee shop for nearly an hour before heading to the drug store across the street to pick up five packs of cheap wooden pencils, unsharpened. As he stepped out of the drug store, he heard a low voice from the corner. [color=Red] [b]You may just keep that company in business if you keep that up you know, Vincent Terenitio. [/b][color=Black]Vincent spun quickly to face this new person, and quickly grew annoyed. It was bad enough that the man knew who he was, and possibly what he could do, but to stand there with his hands tucked into the pockets of his raincoat, hood pulled up over his head to hide his features was just straight up aggravating. [b]What the hell is it to you? [color=Red] To me? Nothing, nothing really. However, to my Master, it is of much interest. [/color][/b][color=Red][i][color=Black]Master? Oh yeah, this is gonna be a problem...[/color][/i][color=Black] Vincent had a bad feeling about the other man from the start, but that feeling grew far worse at the mention of the word Master. [b]I'm afraid I'm just not the type to answer to any Master. [color=Red] And I'm afraid you really have no choice in the matter. [/color][/b][color=Red][color=Black]Vincent could hear the mumbled incantations as the man slowly approached him, watched as tendrils of shadow oozed from beneath the jacket, reaching for him like impossibly long arms. He panicked at first, and the tendrils grabbed his wrists, dragging his struggling body towards the other man with relative ease. The man...No, Vincent definitely did not want to get close to that man. So he fought harder, but something else fought with him now. His hoodie was growing hot now, and getting hotter by the second, and suddenly, Vincent knew what he had to do to get out of this. He kicked his feet up and away, sending his body sliding away from the hoodie, the zipper slicing his forehead as he got out, the sidewalk tearing into his back as he landed. The wounds were minor, and would not be there in an hour, but for now, they still hurt. As he hit the ground, he rolled across the sidewalk, tucking his body against the drug store. The explosion rocked the street, shattering glass for 100 feet, ripping the top off of a nearby fire hydrant. As he heard it, Vincent stood and ran, just ran, with everything he had, all the speed he could muster. He didn't know if he'd actually hurt the other man, but he knew he was free of him - at least for now. And somewhere in the back of his mind, an odd thought formed, considering the situation. [i]I hope Nia didn't spot me, or I'm going to have an awful lot of explaining to do. [/i][/color][/color][/color][/color][/color][/color][/font][/size][center][size=1][font=Verdana][color=Red][color=Black][color=Red][color=Black][color=Red][color=Black]---------- [/color][/color][/color][/color][/color][/color][/font][/size][left][size=1]Well, my turn for an explanation of powers (and an apology if that was too long)...Vincent is effectively a storehouse of constantly recharging energy, which fuels his body, making him capable of physical feats on par with or surpassing professional athletes, at least with proper training. It also mean he literally has no need for sleep. His main ability, however, is that he can focus this energy into other objects (like Gambit). Vincent, unlike the other submissions, while aware of what he can do, has no idea whatsoever on how to control, and it currently only manifests when he's angry, frustrated, or in similar extreme emotional states.[/size] [/left] [/center]

[quote name='DeadSeraphim][size=1][color=indigo][font=arial]The average consumer doesn't buy from EB (see: Best Buy, Walmart), [i]gamers[/i] and [i]gamer's mums[/i] buy from EB. Also the PS3 doesn't have full support for its entire retro library to begin with (it has issues with a lot of games, but they're mainly **** so you'll be right, huh?). Finally, here's a tip: working at EB doesn't make you the authority on HD-movies and console sales, it makes you an employee of EB where people happen to ask about PS3s and BluRay (I like how you didn't explicitly say they're BUYING PS3s). Try not to get the two concepts mixed up next time, kay?[/font][/color'][/size][/quote][size=1]Of course he doesn't talk about people BUYING PS3s. They can't, because Sony decided they weren't even going to produce enough for their pre-orders, let alone for other people who hadn't pre-ordered because they weren't sure about it yet. And that's one of the problems Sony consistently has - they don't care about us, and they purposely hype up everything and under produce to create a false demand for their system. I didn't even bother to buy a PS2 until last year. The fact that I did not feel inclined to buy a PS2 until 5 years after its release, as I'm not the type to buy a console for only one or two titles, makes me leary about even bothering to think about the PS3, which is looking to have the same problem. (By the way, Sony had backwards compatibility issues with the PS2 also, so the fact that they exist with the PS3 shouldn't surprise anyone.) I'm seeing two, maybe three (and one of them isn't technically announced yet) games on the PS3 I'd actually want to play, and I am not going to shell out $600 for them (especially being that one is MSG4, so I'll wait for the port, which I'm fairly certain will happen, as the 360 has games I'd actually want to play). And I'm definitely going to have to agree with the 'average consumers don't shop EB' comment. I'm a gamer, and I don't shop EB, and when I do go in there, I often know more about what I'm asking about then the employees do. On top of that, the fact remains that within the next 6 months, there's likely to be recalls for at least 3 entirely separate reasons, because Sony's quality control is utterly horrendous, and they do not know how to release a system that works right the first time. Anyway, I think I'll leave it at that for now. I'm out. [/size]

Well, I'm a little late posting reviews, but here goes. I've only had the opportunity to play and beat the Wii version (I did not complete it, only beat it - still short a few Heart Pieces, bugs, and Poe Souls, though I do have all the bottles). I'm going to get through the bad here, first, simply because it's easier that way. [b]The Nunchuk[/b] Yes, yes, it's an awesome concept, and it does make the spin attack far more useful. But it really needs decent direction-recognition, especially when combined with the shield attack. I really got tired of doing a spin attack when I wanted to smack someone in the face with a shield. [b]The Wiimote Speaker[/b] By the gods, that thing sounds like crap. I can only hear that giggle so many times before I want to beat Midna over the head with something (although it's still not as annoying as Navi was in OoT). [b]The Graphics[/b] I'm sorry, but I've played Starfox Adventures, Resident Evil Zero, and Twin Snakes for the GCN. There's just no reason for Zelda to look like that, especially for the Wii version. Numerous games designed solely for the GCN showcased what it was actually capable of graphically, and TP is a bit of a disappointment in that area. [b]Non-Orchestrated Music[/b] Yes, it sounds good, I'll give it that. What Zelda doesn't? But it could sound way better, and it's about time Zelda caught up with other series in this area. [b]Link is NOT Right-handed[/b] I understand that it was done to go along with the way the Wiimote worked, since the majority of players are right-handed, but darn it, Link's not, and yes, that bugged me through the entire game (a fact which my poor girlfriend can back up). Having just glanced at the time, I have realized I need to hit the good points later, as I have important things to take care of.

[size=1]Well, in hopes this won't die, I'm just putting a shout here to let you all know that I posted (I know, took me a while, but things have been nuts, as often happens when remodeling).[/size]

[size=1]Kenso split to the right as the group separated, adjusting the pack on his back. For now, his weapons stayed tucked away, the pack settling nicely over the sheathes for his katanas. As he approached the adjacent building, he smiled. There was a fire escape available. Three quick steps put him to running speed, and he leapt toward the side of the building, kicking off of it and grabbing the fire escape, grimacing at the pull on his shoulder muscles. Not particularly comfortable, but quite effective. He climbed the fire escape to the 6th level, then climbed on the escape?s railing to allow himself to reach the roof and rather easily pull himself up to it. He made his way across the roof until reached the top of the connecting bridge, which ran between the sixth floors, then pulled out a pair of binoculars. The roof on the target building appeared to have numerous entries, mostly for easy access to vents for repairs and similar such things. He took a count as he scanned the rooftop, then reached for the radio. [b]?This is Kenso. I count eleven on the rooftop, all armed with machine guns. Looks to be clips of 30.?[/b] He let the binoculars follow one of the guard?s movements to get a better look at the weapons. [b]?Looks to be one of those new upgraded M-16s, no grenade launchers attached. Weapons set on burst, not full automatic. These guys must be the crack shots. There may be more. Various obstructions block view.?[/b] Clyne?s voice came through the earpiece. [b]?Roger that. Nearly in position. Should start raising hell in two or three minutes.?[/b] Kenso knew it was best to leave the rooftop guards to Clyne, and dropped on top of the bridge into a crouched position. Keeping low, he snuck across without mishap, then climbed down the scaffolding on the other building to get to the 6th floor. It was always easier to sneak into a place when work was being done on the outside. He glanced up and down the scaffolding and breathed a sigh of relief. No painters or any other workers. That was good. Kenso didn?t really like to kill innocents. At times, it was a necessary evil, but Kenso never enjoyed it. As he approached the first window, he flattened himself against the outer wall, leaning just enough to glance in. He reached down, pushing the button on the radio on his waist. [b]?This is Kenso. I?m at a sixth floor window. It appears to a CQC training room. Currently three occupants, all male. Nothing extraordinary in appearance. Probably just low guys on the totem pole. Shall I engage, or await everyone else??[/b] It was Elliot?s voice in his earpiece this time. [b]?Engage. Lysander and I are nearly in place. We should be making a whole lot of noise soon on our own. Just try not to end up in the yard until we?re done with it.? [/b] Kenso smirked. [b] ?Roger that. Easy enough to do. Will be out of vocal contact while in building. I?ll be keeping an ear open though. Over and out.? [/b] Kenso easily popped the screen, laying in on the scaffolding, then producing a small crow bar from the side of his pack. Normally, Kenso would be a little smoother and a lot less noisy, but this was not a normal mission. Luckily, the men inside were engaged in combat and far too busy with each other to notice Kenso as he forced the crowbar under the edge of the window and pryed it up, snapping the window?s lock. The noise of the snapping lock got the attention of the various combatants, and Kenso wasted no time in pulling the window open and sliding in as they came at him. By the time his feet hit the ground, he had a 6-inch serrated edge knife in his left hand and his silenced SiG526 in his right. The pistol was really a precaution, as these guys weren?t worth the ammo, but it was easier to have it ready. The first attack came from Kenso?s left, a quick jab from a tall man with a thin build. Kenso leaned back, letting the man?s arm move past his face before slashing outward, ripping into his opponent?s stomach. Kenso dropped as another opponent?s kick connected with the outside of his right knee, but managed to bring up his arm to block the next kick, which was headed for his face. He let the kick slide across his arm, clasping his elbow at the man?s ankle, then standing while twisting his arm up, snapping the ligament?s in the opponent?s ankle. About the time, the third occupant of the room, easily the largest, sent a right cross straight at Kenso?s jaw. He immediately let go of the other occupant?s ankle, dropping to the ground, using his right hand to pivot into a full 180-degree leg sweep. His palm didn?t appreciated his weight pressing it into the gun, but it was effective all the same, and the big man dropped. Kenso was on him before he could stand, and the knife made a mess of his throat before doing the same to the man whose ankle had been broken. He wiped his knife on the pants of the last man to die before heading for the door and pressing himself against the wall. For now, he?d wait for the commotion to start outside.[/size]

[size=1]?One, two, one, one, two, two, one, two, three, one, two, four,? a rhythmic count could be heard through the training gym as Kenso did some push-ups. His training attire was simple, a skin-tight dark grey muscle shirt and relatively loose black cargo shorts that fit his waist snugly enough that he could forgo a belt. His shoes were also black, with low-cut white socks. ?One, two, forty-eight, one, two, forty-nine, one, two, fifty.? Kenso pushed himself up and stood, his stunningly bright eyes scanning the room. Off to his right was a girl about his age, steadily jogging along on a treadmill. Her eyes were closed, headphones firmly set around the back of her head. She was tall for a girl, nearly his height, with shoulder-length medium-brown hair and natural red highlights. She was wearing a red sports bra and matching sweatpants. Kenso allowed his eyes to wander along the girl?s figure. Her name was Mira Helio, and Kenso had been watching her practically since she?d arrived at the academy. Of course, he never bothered approaching her, as he?d become fairly certain that Galian Nightsquall had caught her eye. Unlike many people, Kenso didn?t hold that against Galian. He knew Galian was a good guy, an excellent keyblade user, and someone who would respect a girl as he should, so if that?s how it was, that?s how it was. Besides, Kenso couldn?t blame her. Galian was an impressive person, one Kenso admired and envied. While Kenso was hardly unskilled or weak, Galian?s pure physical strength put Kenso to shame, though Kenso was faster. As a fellow master of drive forms, Galian was a good sparring partner and someone to learn from. Many of the practicioners of drive battling in the academy trained together that they might learn new forms from their opponents. It was a give-and-take situation that oftentimes worked well, and many of them were fast friends or bitter rivals. Kenso and Galian both had their share of bitter rivals. They were the top drivers in the school, and both had mastered many forms. Kenso lacked fast friends among drivers, though not on any fault of his or theirs. It was simply because he didn?t hang with them as often. Driving in all of its forms came naturally to Kenso, and he spread his time between everyone, watching those who used other methods of fighting, knowing such knowledge could help him drive better. He looked away from Mira as her eyes opened, and headed for the door. He needed to run, and unlike many other members of the Academy, he didn?t like to warm-up on the treadmill with a jog, let alone do the full run on it. A smile came over his face as he ran. He loved running, loved the speed. There was nothing quite like the feel of the air rushing over your skin and through your hair. He started to slow as he noticed Galian headed towards the gym area, and tried to get his attention. Perhaps Galian would be up for a spar?.[/size]

[size=1]My geekiest purchase ever is probably the set of Bleach figurines I bought at AMA this year. I bought it simply because it had [font=Verdana]Kyouraku Shunsui and Ukitake Juushiro. I wanted to get the other set too, simply because it had Yuroichi, but by then I was already fairly broke.... Of course, there's also the Special Edition FFXII that I'm eagerly waiting on the release of.... [/font][/size]

[size=1]I don't generally like to be a bubble-burster, but you may want to take a closer look at the secrecy thing. If there's one thing I've learned in my multitude of relationships, it's that if you've got a feeling something is off, there's a fairly decent chance it is. I'm not saying it's a 'doing something behind your back he shouldn't be' thing so much as a 'keeping things from you that he should be discussing with you' kind of thing. It may be that something is really off, or it may be that he's exceedingly uncomfortable discussing some things, but being uncomfortable with something does not count as a reason to not discuss it in a relationship. As for the kissing thing, I think that's pretty well covered already. I can honestly say I've never once had that problem without outside interference (never try to kiss when smart-*** friends are around to whack you upside the back of the head), so I can't help much there. I really would try to get him to talk to you about why he thinks it would be so ackward and all the other things that are bothering you. It's the little things that bother you that can so quickly destroy a relationship, and you've got to talk to make it work. [/size]

Beep, beep, beep, beep, CRASH!! Kenso?s right hand came slamming down on the alarm clock to the right of his bed, nearly knocking off the nightstand, but managing to hit the button to shut it up. He glanced over, blinking away the blur. 7:00 A.M. He growled to himself. Seven in the freakin? morning, on a Saturday?! He really needed to start remembering to turn the alarm off on Friday nights, or maybe buy one of those ones with a Monday-Friday alarm, that would work nicely. Well, it couldn?t be helped. He was awake now, and wouldn?t be going back to sleep. With a yawn, he slowly crawled out of the bed, standing and stretching, various joints popping as he did so. He turned, quickly pulling his covers back up to the top of the bed and smoothing out the wrinkles before heading for the bathroom, leaving his pajamas behind him as he went. After the wakening effects of a cold shower, Kenso dressed, heading out after grabbing two glazed donuts for breakfast. Since he was wake, he might as well start training for the day.

[size=1]I think it varies greatly by anime and person watching. I for one tend to prefer Japanese versions, though I usually see the English version first. Reading subtitles is such an afterthought to me that I barely notice I'm doing it. There are, however, a few anime in which I actually prefer the English version (like Cowboy Bebop, I actually can't stand most of the Japanese voices for the characters). I know some people who prefer the English versions just because they don't have to deal with subtitles, and I've known a few who preferred the Japanese ones simply because they knew that's what it was supposed to be. [/size]

No anime has actually made me cry, but Cowboy Bebop came awful close. [spoiler]Julia dieing was just a sappy moment. I couldn't cry when Spike died because he didn't have Julia any more, so he had no real reason to live on. I think I would've cried if he'd lived though.[/spoiler] I almost cried in Bleach too. [spoiler]When Renji and Byakuya are taking Rukia into Soul Society and she turns and tells Ichigo to forget about her....Oh, that was just so not right to poor Ichigo, as if he hadn't already lost enough by losing his mother.....[/spoiler]

[size=1]My number one reason for loving anime is this: Those who create anime understand that animated does not have to mean 'for kids', and has already been mentioned, current American cartoons SUCK. ((OK, Family Guy does amuse me somewhat, but....)) And anime has everything I love somewhere. There's mechs, there's war, there's pseudo-westerns, the occasional romance throw in (yes, I'm a guy, who cares?), and all the 'plaster-to-the-back-of-your-seat' high speed action you could ask for. What's not to love?[/size]

[size=1]I'm not so sure Ichigo qualifies as a badass. Don't get me wrong, he's disturbingly cool and all, but I'm not so sure about badass. The thing with Ichigo is that much of his badass in the series comes from a 'I'm going to protect and/or save everyone, and you're not going to stop me' sentiment, and the kind of ruins the badass.[/size]