Kwai

[i] A figure, lone and spectral, stood upon the Great Wall, his hands shifting uncomfortably, his arms darting in and out of his pocket every now and then, checking the time. A light, smooth breeze passed through, as the Wall groaned a sigh of exhaustion. At last, clinking footsteps were heard, as another figure emerged from the shadows of the nearby watch tower, carrying with him an abyssal black brief case. The figure hurried forth to the newcomer, and exchanged an uneasy greeting, a pathetic attempt at suppressing the fear. The new comer handed over the brief case, and the figure handed him a small case, though what was within is unknown. The new comer accepted the case, then smoothly took out a small, dark object. A single shot echoed through the clear, crisp night, as the figure fell dead. Far, far off, a man stood, a pair of binoculars upon his eyes. He saw the exchange, he saw the murder, and he also saw his little concoction spewing out innocently from the briefcase. He smiled as the remaining figure suddenly jerked as if hit by lightning, then fell, out of sight. Warrington smiled. His work was done. [/i]

Might as well post Renaldo's Bio. Name: Father Renaldo Amiel Age: 43 Race: Human Weapons: Storm Spire Divine Staff ? A staff that is imbued with an enchantment to channel electric particles from the air, and store the energy within it. The stored energy can be unleashed as pure energy itself, or also as electricity. The staff is made out of a 1000 year old Red Wood Oak, with a huge Topaz jewel entangled by the staff. Storm Shield Tower Shield ? A huge shield that can reflect any elemental attack cast against it. The shield is ethereal, thus making it indestructible by any conventional means. The shield has an enchantment upon it that prevents anyone except its owner to wield it. Should anyone dare to use this shield, a bolt of lightning cast from the heavens shall strike him down. Skills: Chain Lightning ? By channeling a sufficient amount of energy into his staff, Renaldo can cast a devastating lightning attack which jumps from opponent to opponent until it wears itself out. Should it be cast against a single target, the lightning will paralyze him for a while, making his movements limited and clumsy. The damage of this attack depends upon the weather, and the length of time spent channeling energy into the staff. Static Armor ? A protective armor composed of dancing electricity is cast around Renaldo, making him nearly invulnerable to any non-magic attacks. The armor needs to draw energy constantly from the staff, so the armor, at most, can last 2 minutes. Should an enemy strike Renaldo with this armor in effect, a bolt of lightning shall launch back automatically towards the enemy. Teleport ? By using a sudden burst of electric particles, Renaldo creates a rift in the dimensions, transporting him instantly to another location nearby. This skill is extremely hard to use, especially because the rifts are usually created randomly. However, it is a very useful spell in getting out of sticky situations. Judgement Day ? This requires the staff to be charged to its maximum output, and also a great amount of mana from the caster himself. Renaldo creates a pure ball of energy with the entirety of energy in his staff, and fires it up directly towards the sky. This energy ball creates a rift in the dimensions and summons a huge inter-dimensional storm cloud. The super-charged particles within the cloud are incredibly vicious, and will tear down from the heavens to strike down any and all objects, even tearing apart the ground in its berserk state. The rift in the dimensions lasts for a period of 4~5 minutes, but none survived the first minute since the spell was cast. Renaldo himself is immune to electricity, and thus remains unharmed during this awesome spell. Appearance: A tall, masculine body, Black hair with a streak of white in the middle, wears a black travelers cloak, and has a friendly, cheerful face. Personality: Friendly, Cheerful, Encouraging, Forgiving, and Dignified. Bio: Grown in a Strict Catholic household, Renaldo?s greatest ambition was to become a Father in the Catholic Church. His dreams were granted, but his innocent eyes were soon marred by the corruption in the Vatican. He prayed for 10 days straight, hoping to find an answer from the Lord. His revelation came to him on the last day, when he saw a giant tree struck by lightning, but instead of burning down, be charged with energy so great and divine. Renaldo searched and searched for this tree until he came upon the tree he saw in his vision. A tree branch suddenly broke off when Renaldo arrived, the same branch that later became his staff. And upon the branch a small inscription was written, bearing the phrase ?In the name of God....? exactly what was written after this is unclear, but Renaldo took this message to heart, and since then, has cut all his affiliations with the ?corrupt? church, and has become a solitary wandering paladin monk, determined to root out all corruption from Christianity, and also as a missionary to those not blessed by the light of Christ. His staff was at first used simply for travelling, but its true nature was brought to light when Renaldo was attacked by a pack of bandits. The staff unleashed a fury of lightning from the sky, striking the bandits down. With this discovery, Renaldo honed his skills with the staff, and his skills, combined with his religious zeal, makes him a formidable warrior indeed. [i] Brendan slowly stood up, his form slender and lithe, deadly calm prevading over the entire scene. He saw the bloodied body of Warrington, of the GVA agents, and the unconscious body of Father Amiel. It took a while for the image to sink in, and the moment of comprehension was quite obvious... the air suddenly chilled, and the Warp Steel suddenly erupted into a huge spear, much like Hyde's. Brendan stretched his hands out at his weapon, and the steel obliged, handing him the red vial. He walked over to Warrington, and with shaking hands, opened the stopper and poured the liquid down his throat. He listened for any signs of life, and heard soft breathing. Relieved, he looked towards Father Amiel, who was unconscious but still alive. Good enough. He snapped his fingers, and his Warp Steel engulfed him and his two comrades, disappearing into the depths of the alley, leaving the GVA agents spawled in the alleyway. A thin, mechanical whisper was carried through the winds, even worse than the chilling silence which dominated the entire area. "Now its war..." [/i]

[i] Name: Enrique Warrington Age: 123 Race: Human Gender: Male Height: 6ft. 2 Alias: Dokku Weight: 215 lbs. Nationality: German Location: Great Wall of China (don't ask.... Weapons: Poison Tipped Scissors Suwayyah (x 2) ? A claw dabbed in each tip with a poison that prevents blood clotting. The claw is single-tipped, but by pulling the trigger on the handle, spreads out into 4 different claws. The aim of this curious contraption is to stab the enemy deeply, spread out the claw in the body of the enemy, twist, and then pull out. This causes a huge wound in the opponent, and the poison prevents the wound from closing, bleeding the enemy until it eventually dies. Poison Tipped Darts ? These darts too are poison-tipped, and allows Warrington to strike the foe from a distance. Unlike the poison employed in his Suwayyahs, the poison on these darts results in a hallucinating effect on the foe. This is especially helpful to Warrington since his style revolves around claws, and it helps him to approach his opponents with the minimum damage possible. Skills: Immunity ? Due to his constant dabbling with poison, Warrington has gained immunity to all forms of poison. He cannot be poisoned, and he is immune to most diseases as well. Many foolish attempts to poison Warrington have proved to be a dismal failure; instead of weakening him, it further strengthened his immunity, thus making him even more powerful. However, the only down side is the fact that poison courses through his entire body much like blood to an ordinary human being, and having skin contact with him can result in a long and painful death. Plague Nova ? Warrington unleashes a cloud of poison. This gaseous venom reacts quickly with the air, spreads up to a radius of 50 meters in a few seconds, and will not dissipate for a day. Any life form caught within this cloud is guaranteed a slow, painful death in the course of the next hour. The toxin is strong enough to corrode most known metals, and can be transmitted through the skin therefore making gas masks utterly useless. Regeneration ? The unnatural mix of many toxins and chemicals in Warrington?s system had a curious effect upon his body functions. With the introduction of an unknown combination of chemicals and toxins, Warrington?s self-regenerating effect of the body was significantly increased, making his wounds heal at up to 10 times that of an average human being. A bruise or a scratch will disappear in a matter of minutes, and severe injuries, such as broken bones, ruptured organs, etc. can be remedied in a day at most. Appearance: A dirty, white lab coat, with five vials filled with red fluid in his chest pocket. His hair is disheveled and coarse, and his face is deadly pale. His skin has a black-green tint to it due to the numerous chemicals flowing through his veins. Wears oval shaped glasses, and comfortable, black pants. Personality: Solitary, quiet, watchful, distrustful, and analytical. Bio: A World War I veteran, Warrington suffered the horrendous effects of mustard gas that many of his comrades shared. However, his body seemed to have a natural resistance to the toxin. After suffering for a month in the hospital, the disease suddenly appeared to have left him. Or so it seemed. After the war, Warrington discovered in himself a natural resistance, and in some cases, immunity to most of the venom known today. Being a chemist, he slowly adapted himself to more and more poisons by taking in small quantities of them daily and slowly increasing his dosage. One day, this unnatural mixture of chemicals in his body made him severely sick, almost to the point of death. His sickness, however, was followed immediately by a sudden recovery, much like his recovery from mustard gas. Miraculously, his recovery was followed by his body slowly un-aging, and his body was restored to those of his 20s. Upon research, Warrington concluded that some, or perhaps all of the toxins in his body had formed a sort of an enzyme previously unknown to man, which kept the body?s functions and metabolisms at that of a 20yr. old. This enzyme also provided him with inhuman regeneration, making him immune to most diseases and injuries known to man. The government, hearing of Warrington?s miracles, abducted him, examining his body in minute detail. But the government?s research team died a mysterious death, which resulted from physical contact with the subject. The government sought to dispose of Warrington, realizing the potential for death and decay he possessed. Warrington was no naïve man, and fled as soon as possible, through means unknown. He has been pursued repeatedly by agents sent by the government, though none of them returned alive to report the subject terminated. Eventually, the government either gave up or thought him dead, and he was left to his peace. However, his body was now no longer that of a human being, his touch meant death to any living creature and he never felt that he truly shook off the efforts of the government. To protect himself from his pursuers, he turned to his unnatural abilities, and to his unmatched knowledge of toxins, chemicals, and poisons. Because of being dogged constantly, he is highly distrustful of anyone. However, once his trust is earned, he is a worthy warrior, and also as a doctor; he is able to cure most diseases through his specialized drugs. [/i] You know who he is.... he's been hunting you in the other WOTS rpg.... o_O

The only greatest achievement that I can think of is placing 2nd in the Individual Jr. Youth division of the national Kendo championship... and that was mostly luck cause all the good people cancelled each other out on the other blocks o_O

Huh? Oh... I'm Japanese, so I read all of the manga in Japanese. I got them at the Kinokuniya Book Store located near Rock Feller Center in NYC. And you want me to summarize EVERYTHING? God you gotta be kidding... almost EVERYTHING is different in the manga... the character development, events, battle scenes, outcomes, etc. etc. You can ask me "How did Wolfwood turn out?" "Who fought Midvalley and who won?" and stuff like that, but a full summary is a bit too much. o_O

[i] Warrington was no fool. With lightning rapidity, he threw a vial at the fleeing figures. The vial narrowly missed hitting a wall nearby, and generated a strange gas which spread quickly through the vicinity, engulfing the two figures. Warrington threw one of his red vials back at Father Amiel, who took it gratefully and gulped it down. Warrington walked towards the fog. He found Reaper and Hyde, not completely paralyzed but slowed by the gas. Warrington's face was contorted into that of fury, as his claws came sliding out, clicking on accompanied with the ominous crack of knuckles. "So, hybrid. Dare strike us?" whispered Warrington in a deadly voice. Behind Warrington, a figure loomed up, holding the remainders of his staff. Father Amiel, his wounds regenerated by the potion, his face, too, set in anger and hate. The inscriptions written on his staff glowed faintly, and Father Amiel brought the two parts together. The two broken parts entangled together, as the large topaz glowed. The staff reformed, and Father Amiel took out a large shield from under his cloak. Electricity danced around him, around his shield, around his staff, charging up to strike. A two on two....[/i]

Yes, the Knives vs. Vash scene is much, much better in the manga. I think they faced off once so far, but [spoiler] Knives absorbed another plant body, and was incredibly powerful, whereas Vash only used his gun. Knives gave up on trying to convert Vash during the battle and attempted to absorb him as well. However, he found himself being absorbed instead. Knives was only saved by Legato who forced their arms apart, thus breaking the channeling. Basically, Knives won, but it demonstrated that Vash has more potential for power than Knives. [/spoiler]

[i] Name: Kotokiri Gen Age: 17 Race: Human Element: Water Weapons: Chain-sickle Katana (x 2)? A seemingly ordinary katana, except for the fact that it can launch its blade by pulling the trigger attached to its hilt. The blade is connected to the hilt with reinforced titanium wire, thus allowing its user to retrieve and fire multiple times. The wire on one sword is sharpened so that it too can cut, while the other is dulled so as to be used to entangle and disable opponents. The blade itself is crafted and shaped by advanced laser technology, and is capable of slicing a molecule in half. Skills: Hitoe/Futae Tenchuusatsu (Single/Dual Aerial Kill)? Anti-air attack. Gen takes off into the air, and uses a Battoujutsu technique in mid-air, slicing the opponent in half. There are two different versions, each employing one or two swords. Ameotoshi Battoujutsu (Heaven?s Collapse Battoujutsu)? A Battoujutsu attack somewhat lacking in speed, but with incredibly long-range and power. Gen fires his blade at a precise timing while performing the Battoujutsu technique, thus giving it incredible range and power from its momentum. Futae Setsuna no Jyuujigiri (Dual Moment Cross Slash)? The ultimate and strongest Battoujutsu technique that Gen possesses. The basic technique is the same as Ameotoshi Battoujutsu, except two swords are employed, one launched vertically and the other launched horizontally. This attack is nearly impossible to dodge, and is a few times faster than the Ameotoshi technique. However, it takes extreme concentration and focus, and drains the spirit after use. Rakuhouha Kenbu (Phoenix Fall Sword Dance)? A Kenbu (Sword Dance) which is performed only when Gen fights an opponent who he deems worthy. Focusing his entire being into his swords, Gen goes on a seemingly berserk rampage. The rampage, however, is well calculated and the external storm only hides the internal calm and void within. This Dance is not only on ground, but will also take to the air if necessary and due to his specially crafted katana, his Kenbu is nearly impossible to dodge. His Kenbu attack seemingly leaves an illusion behind as he moves, thus making it harder for the opponent to hit him in his frenzy. Appearance: Smooth, black hair tied back in a ponytail. Moderately tall. A dark-blue long-sleeved shirt with the kanji ?Ame? written in white on the back. Black sash loosely tied around the waist, and dark-blue pants. Swords attached to the waist of both sides. Quiet, calm face, usually accompanied with a faint smile. Thin, but not scrawny thin. Personality: Calm, yet a complete demon in battle. Is loyal provided he believes in the cause, but prefers to work independently. Has great respect for life, but will not falter to take it should he find himself in danger. Bio: Always in adoration and captivated by the stories of samurais and the concept of Bushido, Gen took the path of pioneering a whole new branch of combat style which uses a sword as a viable weapon in a society where guns are dominant. Upon diligent practice and study, Gen ultimately arrived at the conclusion that the only aspect in which the gun holds dominance over swords is its range and power. Confident that he could cover the lack of power with his natural talent, Gen struggled to find a way to even the advantage of distance. This he accomplished by attaching a wire connecting the blade and the hilt, and crafting it so that it could fire its blade. Practice with this new type of sword changed Gen?s fighting style. In order to use his katana to its full potential, Gen decided that normal sweeps and slashes were too slow and did not possess enough strength to effectively slice his opponents. He began to base his style around the Battoujutsu technique, an attack in which the blade is drawn directly from the sheath as it attacks, thus giving the blade increased velocity and power. The Battoujutsu technique, combined with the range and momentum from the launched blade finally satisfied Gen. Gen?s already formidable swordsmanship augmented by his newfound strength makes him a formidable warrior indeed. [/i] No magic spells... pure sword skills alone...

[i] Warrington trudged through the gradually darkening forest, and looked up. The sun too was trudging across the sky, its daily journey slowly coming to an end. Warrington continued to walk on, and came to a small decrepit hut, made of decayed, rotting wood. Warrington pushed the remains of the door, and it crumbled into the ground, nothing more than dust. Within the hut, there were numerous bottles and numerous vials stashed neatly on the shelf, many of them full of strangely colored liquids as well as strange organs of various animals. Warrington walked up to a nearby shelf, and took off two vials, one dark green and the other blood red. He picked up an empty bottle nearby, and poured the two liquids in. The concoction swirled for a bit, then hissed and turned into a sickly brown color. Warrington took out the fangs he collected, and deposited them into the mixture. The solution hissed again, though instead of changing color, faded and turned into a clear water-like liquid. [/i]

[i] Name: Otogimichi Gen (The Illusionary path of the Fairy Tale) Age: 14 Gender: Male Weapons: Renba Tou (A curiously crafted katana which looks like two katanas conjoined, thus resulting in one hilt and two blades side-by-side. It can be used as two different swords as well, and can be broken apart to be made into a Renba Tou) Features(no pics sorry): Black flowing hair with a dyed streak of pure white. A small marking is seen on his forehead, ever-changing, ever-turbulent according to the movements of the celesital stars. His face is unusually calm and lacking emotions, though if that truly reflects how his soul is, none knows. He is moderately tall and wears a dark-blue long-sleeved shirt, with matching pants. On his chest area there is a small inscription of Kanji meaning "Illusion". He usually ties back his hair with a white bandana, and constantly limps, though from injuries or from habit is impossible to determine. Personality: Quiet, unnervingly calm, sharply analytical and cynical, and is skilled at searching out the negative attributes as well as the weak points of people. He is one of those people that you would NOT want to beat up on because he will not so much give a trace of groan. He will stand there taking the beating, just staring at you directly in the eyes as if hes a mannequin doll... freaky... Bio: An orphan ever since the quake, he has become incredibly bitter, pessimistic, and cynical to everything around him. His entire being was hammered out from constant conflict within his internal self, courtesy of his ability to see the negative attributes of humankind. He has given up on humankind too much, his mind is constantly hovering between the uncertainty of life and death. His negative outlooks on life seem to burden his shoulders with increased weights, slowly sinking him down to the bottomless pits of insanity. Element: Planets (There, fixed) [/i] Well... he turned out to be a total freak/psycho .... oh well.

I used to play quite a while ago, almost daily at school. Occasionally, we would pool together an assortment of rare cards, have a little tournament, winner takes all. It was fun, but it kinda got stupid since we all knew what kind of decks each of us had. We were too stupid to change it around back then. I rarely play these days, maybe only if someone asks. My main is white/blue or blue/black. I'm more of an annoy-the-crap-out-of-you deck user, basically using counter spells against every possible spells played against me. And of course, I will bounce back some harmful spells back at you, I will also take control of your creatures, heal myself until you puke, etc. etc. Most of my victories come simply from my opponent running out of cards lol. My main creature is the Polar Kraken, though I rarely use him because of his mana cost/land sacrifice stuff. 10/10 is awesome and all, but not really cost efficient unless I can trample the enemy right there and then.

OOC: Sorry, been a while. Hmm... and I see that Warrington is now the universal bad-guy-villain. Whatever... might as well throw in some magic onto him and make him even more cheaper, annoying, god-ly, etc. etc..... I'm the reincarnation of who??.... So wait... whoever he is, I get to fight you guys all-out now right?.... sounds good to me :devil: [i] Warrington stood by the edge of an ancient pond, its depths murky and unknown, the various skeletons of past visitors scattered, floating in the black, murkish water. He knew it was down there, deep within. One of the oldest, most ancient venomous serpent to have existed. Unfortunately during his time, it was long extinct and he was unable to revive the venom from the DNA samples he had. But now... Warrington bent down and picked up a nearby rock. He chucked it towards the middle of the pond leisurely, watching the ripples. A few moments later, bubbles began to appear, announcing the presence of the inhabitant of the pond. Warrington stood up to his full height, and his claws came out, his sarcastic smile on his face. The serpent emerged, though its exact shape was indistinguishable due to the mosses and other unusual plants growing on it. The serpent had two eyes, though both were empty in its glance, indicating its blindness. The serpent sniffed the air, and its snout pointed in the direction of Warrington, and came charging at him. In a moment, it was over. Warrington tore the creature apart effortlessly, his claws much sharper than before, his speed and strength augmented by the various herbs and drugs, and his will honed by his new-found interests. He smiled at the dead remains of the serpent. The head was still quivering slightly, its nerves still somewhat active. Warrington bent down, and plucked out the two eyes, a couple of its teeth, and its scales. He kicked the rest of the carcass back into the pond. No doubt in a few years, the carcass will rot, its skull joining the chorus of skeletons in the pond. Warrington deposited his acquisitions into his inner coat pocket, and walked off. [/i] OOC: Don't interfere yet people o_O

[i] A sarcastic angel. And a female angel. Great. Out of all the possible combinations in the multitude of angelic inhabitants up there, he had to have the precise combination he disliked. And what the hell was that she was holding? A freaking shotgun? ...... Perhaps he should just continue to fly away, as if nothing happened. But from the looks on her eyes, Metatron assumed that it would be wiser to at least help her out... that is, help her by shortening the time to kill all the little demons around her. Sighing, he looked at the demons swarming around them, a big, ugly, nasty wave of disgusting looking creatures. Fine. Whatever. Summons either way. He closed his eyes, and focused his mana. Gradually, reality faded and was replaced by a pool of mana representing each creature in the vicinity. A source was found, probably somewhere far, probably by another overlord. Almost all of the mana pools around him indicated those of demons, all connected to the distant source. Sweeping his hands, he disconnected them, and reopened his eyes. The demons all around him vanished, disappearing in a thin wisp of smoke. Metatron rubbed his syes as he looked around, and saw the female angel looking at him with a bit of annoyance in her eyes. So perhaps he should have flown away.... [/i]

[i] Metatron squinted up at the skies again. Far off in the distance, he thought he saw a miniscule dot of light go down. Probably another angel sent down to earth. He might as well join up. It was pointless anyway, hunting down these weak overlords. Overlords were simple enough to kill. Turn their summons against them and they're done. He liked death, but not so much simple, quick death of pathetic beings. He wanted more, the death of something more powerful... like one of the three... It was an addiction, to smite out death. It used to be a duty, a type of a job, nothing more. Now it was an addiction, permanent and unwavering. His insatiable desire to see everything, every single being die in his presence pestered him every passing moment. But now with the insurgent of the three... it was becoming difficult to do that. They wrecked his plans, his schedules... but yet... They also provided him with a new found goal... to be present when they died, preferably by his own hands. So he was like a human in many ways. Unable to shake off his divine addiction. He often pondered if he was like them or if they were like him. But at any rate... The light in the distance was nearing the earth at an alarming speed. Yep. Definitely an angel. Better get going if he wanted to meet up. With that, he grew his four wings, an unnatural figure, and flew off, leisurely. [/i]

[i] Metatron paused in his foot steps, and cast his weary eyes toward the infinte red sky. Only a while ago, it was blue. Now, the sky was ashen, burned, and violated. He knew that high above past that grim sky was the celestial gates of heaven, but will that last....? He sensed that his brethren were coming down hastily, alerted by the presence of the three.... no... many of them were already down, working against the three, some subtly, some openly. Will they be able to match the three's hellish strengths and spells? Will they be able to calm the demons? Metatron turned his stare forward towards the distant horde, and murmured. "Even if they can't, I can...." He trudged onward. The demons in the distance grew clearer with every passing step, and he soon came to realize that there were not only lower class demons, but a type of an overseer, probably the one who performed the summon in the first place. Metatron smiled. Perhaps. He walked straight in to the lion's den. He was so quiet, his scent so insignificant, his body so small, that none of the demons took note of him until he was right up in front of the overseer himself, which was busy consuming a cadaver. Metatron grinned, which sent a sudden chill through the horde. Eyes turned, fixing upon the lone childish figure. The Overseer was a hulking beast, with four over-large grotesque arms, and a large glaring eye. The Overseer stared down at the minute figure in front of him, and laughed a blubbering laugh. It pointed its grotesque fingers at Metatron, and on cue, the entire horde came rushing towards him. Metatron smiled jovially, and a sudden flash of light burst out from him, soaking the area. The Overseer cowered back, but found himself unharmed. Cackling madly, it again pointed its fingers at Metatron. But nothing. Looking around him, he saw that all his minions, or rather former-minions were staring at him hungrily. His eyes fixed upon the child before him with horror, and a moment later, was drowned by the sea of demons leaping for him, clawing him, chewing him, tearing his flesh off. Metatron turned around and walked away, and after a few steps, turned to make sure the overseer was dead, over-killed, and gone, then snapped his fingers. The demons evaporated, melting down into the ground. Metatron stretched his arms, content with himself, then yawned and walked off, to places unknown. [/i]

[i] A chaotic day, with chaos brewing upon every street corner within every block within every town within every province within every state within country within the world. Daemons of all sizes and shapes, an endless flux of summoned creatures from permanent portals set in vaious locations by the three Primevils. Diablo, Mephisto, Baal. Ages past he remembered them, powerful as they were now, cruel and sadistic as they were now. But now they were wiser, honed by the millenias of divine and diabolic war raged by both sides, and that made all the difference in the world, in this and the others. Metatron, in his child form, strolled through the bloodied streets filled with ashes as well as human remains. Any adult in the area would have cried out to see the eyes of such an innocent looking being corrupted by such visions. His eyes wandered from the empty, crumbling doorways to the diabolic inscriptions written in sprawled hand-writing all over the buildings in the street. Clearly, these inscriptions were not done by the three. The summons which they indicated were not of the highest caliber. A growl, a grotesque crack, and a human limb came flying out of a doorway, narrowly missing Metatron's face, as it hit the opposite wall. Metatron's smile thinned a bit, as he scanned the dark doorway from where the disgusting object was thrown. A demon, obviously of a lower class, came stumbling out, drunk with the chaos and gore. It laid its blood-shot eyes on Metatron, then emitted an unearthly cry and came charging at him, its cleaver high above its head. Metatron merely smiled, and waved his hands over at the demon. The demon suddenly crumbled, its remains melting back into the earth from whence it came as the cleaver hit the ground with a dull thud. "Summons are still a spell..." murmured Metatron as he continued his stroll. Further up ahead, his divine eyes spied a multitude of demons, apparently feasting over a recent massacre of the human population. Shaking his head, he walked towards the unnatural feast, his feet leaving no prints in the ashened streets. [/i]

OOC: finally.... [i] Warrington was 3 blocks away upon a rooftop, listening in intently to he situation. His claws were restless, going in and out, each time with a hasty click. Father Amiel stood beside him, looking up at the sky, raising his staff high above his head. Yellow particles danced about the magnificent topaz within his staff, forming a weak electric current alternating with a sudden burst of strong currents. Brendan also sat, his legs dangling from the edge of the roof, his Warp Steel slithering around restlessly. *scene change to Le'aoni and Hyde* "Heh... hehehehehe... how fortunate! Another vampire for me to kill!" laughed Hyde, walking to Le'aoni. Le'aoni's body tensed a bit, realizing that this was the right one. Hyde grasped his spear, and held it up to Le'aoni's throat. Hyde smiled maniacally and sadistically, but Le'aoni returned the smile with that of scorn and pleasure. In a flash, she leapt aside the precise moment Hyde thrust his spear, his spear grinding into the wall behind, getting stuck. Le'aoni missed no chance, and immediately struck with her elongated claws. Hyde received a brutal slash above his eyes, and the blood oozed down obscuring his vision. Maddened with rage and embarassment inflicted upon him by a mere vampire, he began to swing around wildly. His wounds began to heal, and when he finally regained his vision, he noticed that there were three additional figures, all clad in black, one an elderly man, another a child, and another a young man in his early 20s. The child smiled, the elderlyman's eyes gleamed, and the man laughed sadistically and maniacally, reminding Hyde all to well of his own laugh. "So we finally, finally, FINALLY meet..." said the man. [/i]

I'm guessing alot of people posting on these boards are under 20, and many probably still live with their parents. I'm sure many of you have a curfew then. What time is it? I'm 16 and my parents will thrash me if I get home any later than 6:30.... -_-

[i] Enrique leapt back regaining his usual composure, and looked around him slowly, taking in the situation. Mystika, Arch, Lita, and some new comer... He pointed his claws at the new comer, who stepped back, expecting another assault of darts and claws. Warrington laughed, and shook his head. "What is your name?" he asked simply. "Zeke..." muttered the stranger with a bit of stutter. Warrington smiled. So another has joined the rag-tag fleet, another unfortunate soul to stand in his way. Not now though. It was not time yet, and he had so much to see, so much to do, so much to test in this world and time. His recent acquisition, his new claws excited him, and he knew that much more could be obtained in this mystical world dominated by magic. Some time. Some more time and he can grasp it... "We shall meet again." cackled Warrington. His robes unfurled, and noxious fumes seemed to erupt from every inch of his body. Arch instantly telported away, while telepathically signalling to everyone to flee the scene. From what he felt, the poison was stronger, and most likely fatal even to him. Warrington's piercing eyes were still visible in the green abyss, however, and its eerie yellow was visible yet from a distance. Its eyes wandered over to Lita and Mystika, and in its eyes the manic desire to kill was evident. The venomous gas enveloped the scene, thickening with every passing moment, and the yellow glints slowly shaded away by the fumes. The group escaped the clearing, and Warrington's mad cackle ensued, eventually dwindling into unsettling silence. [/i] OOC: Keep Warrington out for a while will you please? He's gonna be doing his own thing some place else for a bit and he'll be back... soon... Damn what?.... lol j/k now its smooth see?

OOC: Well... during my absence, someone decided to pick a fight with Warrington. Well, good luck friend. You're gonna need it... [i] Warrington stood up slowly, his jaws attached at an odd angle. A sharp crick was heard, followed by a grotesque crack, as Warrington readjusted his jaws. His face looked odd for a moment, then resumes its normal complexion. Warrington looks at the new comer, and grins sadistically. "Oh... another amateur to your rag-tag group now is it?" smiled Warrington. "And what shall I call this soon-to-be-dead fool? I'd like to have a name to remember. I think I'll enjoy keeping this massacre in my memory as another amateur who crossed the lion's path..." Zeke scoffed, quite confident with himself. "No one lasts forever." he said to himself. The man before him seemed to be a more defensive fighter, but like he said, nothing lasts forever. He might as well beat him down. Warrington raised both his arms in front of him, his palms facing his face, his hands clenching and unclenching menacingly. Momens later, his claws retracted. Mystika and Zeke look at him, confused. Does he not want to fight? But wait... a sharp, ominous click ensues almost immediately, as a new set of claws take place. Mystika notices that they are longer, and compared to the rusty looking claws she was used to seeing, this blade looked almost brand-new.... "Like it?" laughed Warrington. "New claws, better than my old, hammered by the best smith, imbued with magic. You see, I am a scientist but I am open-minded towards things... especially things which make me stronger..." His claws gleamed dark-green, and Warrington slightly twitched his hands. The claw burst forth into four different blades, each menacing as much as the original. Warrington drew his hands back, and swung it forward. To Mystika and Zeke's surprise, the claws disengaged themselves from the handle, and came flying at them. Dodging it narrowly, they notice that Warrington's claws are back in place. Warrington smiles.... "Interesting isn't it? Some mix of science and magic, and I was able to create a claw which keeps on reforming itself, much like my regeneration!" he cackled. A barrage of claws, mixed with battle darts ensues, as the two desperately dodge, unable to attack under such heavy fire... [/i]

OOC: Okay, I am completely confused as to where the heck everyone is and what the hell is happening. All I traced up till was everyone assembling at Selenay's house, and from there is a jumble of posts. Will someone please PM me a succint summary informing me of what exactly is happening and everyone's location?

[i] The clock's pendulum swung forwards and backwards, forwards and backwards. The long-hand struck 10, and the clock sent a booming ring across the abandoned house, located in Isle Bistro. Four figures were present in the room. One was referred to as "thing of a man", another was a small boy, yet another was a man leaning upon his staff, and finally a draculina, still young and beautiful. "So it is the appointed time. Now we may begin." wheezed Father Amiel. Le'aoni looked distrustingly at the three figures, and muttered. "And why exactly are there three of you and one of me?" she asked tensely. "Don't be confused draculina." replied Father Renaldo calmly. "We are not here to hunt or kill you. Young Brendan here - " he gestured towards the boy, "and I are simply here to keep you two from breaking into a fight again." Warrington grunted, a bit annoyed with the situation. A vampire in front of him and he was forbidden to kill it. Damn it all. What was the world coming to? He took a deep breath, and started to talk, though his disgust and contempt was rather obvious. "So... we of the Lowendove Brotherhood will agree to your... GVA's terms of peace for the time being. We agree not to attack nor harm your agents, provided that you show the same courtesy for ours... we shall not, however, disclose any information we deem not necessary, nor do we intend to give you a nice little tour of our stronghold so don't think you'll gain any advantage over us wretch... also keep in mind we will show no qualms of killing any of you should you scums show signs of hostility..." concluded Warrington with disgust. "Are we agreed then?" said Father Amiel quietly. Le'aoni's eyes wandered about as she drunk in the words, then suddenly finding herself addressed, looked at Warrington sharply. "And why is it, human, that you suddenly decide to form a pact with us when you just a few days ago attempted to kill me?" Warrington burst into laughter, followed with a small suppressed chuckle from both Father Renaldo and Brendan. "Dear girl, dear girl." began Father Renaldo. "From what I hear, you would have been dead if Warrington really did have it in his mind to kill you." said he with a laugh. Le'aoni's face flushed, but as she was outnumbered, held her tongue. "WHY is it that you are suddenly willing to ally with us?" she pressed. Warrington's smiles widened. Brendan took up the answer with a light sing-song voice. "Because, of course, its convenient for us." he said simply. Le'aoni glared at him, but found his stare unwavering, and looked back at Warrington. "Are we agreed then?" asked Warrington. "Very well human. We are agreed." Warrington took out a parchment from his coat pocket, and slid it across the table. "Prick your thumb, and seal it with your blood." he said. Le'aoni noticed next to it another print, and a signature signed by Sir Lowendove under it. She glanced at Warrington suspiciously, but Warrington seemed to have read her mind, and laughed. "It's not laced with poison so rest assured." he said. Le'aoni had no sooner signed the paper and imprinted it with her thumb when Brendan's Warp Steel slithered up and swallowed it greedily. Father Amiel smiled, and stood up. "It is done." [/i]

Hm... I was hoping for an RPG where I can use angels... and use my own name :) So far everyone seems to be good RPGers. Sign me up o_O Race: Angel Name: Metatron, the Angel of Death Age: N/A Appearance: His human form varies with the time and place. For the most part, he takes on the form of a young child, innocent-looking, playful, and slightly mysterious. In this form, he appears at around an age of 9 ~ 12, blonde hair, crystal blue eyes, and a calm smile playing upon his lips. His angel form is a bright, radiant form, with 4 huge wings on his back, 2 of which are Seraphim wings, and the remaining two, bat-like and grotesque. His body is covered with a crimson red cloak, and his eyes bound by a ethereal cloth which alternates from nothingness into existance. Weapons: An ancient rune blade, from the ages past, rumored to have its hilt created in heaven and its blade forged in hell. A diabolic inscription can be seen on the blade, glowing in a hellish fashion, and a divine inscription can be seen on the hilt, thus creating an unstable flux of heavenly and hellish energies conjoined forcefully. Spells: [size=1] Finger of Death - To any mortal being, this spell means instant death, no matter what abilities the mortal may have. A blue-green lightning rips forth from Metatron, tearing a hole through the body, and ripping the soul free. The soul is then taken to the respective realm(i.e. heaven or hell), or can be destroyed, eradicating the very existance of the unfortunate victim. Immunity - Metatron is immune to any spell, be it hostile or friendly. Of course this means any offensive spell cast against him is useless, but he also does not gain benefit from healing or supportive spells. Its a double-edged blade. Dispel - Any magic that is hostile can be cast off with this simple, but extremely effective spell. The very mana that keeps the hostile spell in effect is burned away, breaking the spell's energy source, thus resulting in the termination of the spell. Spell Steal - A variation of Disenchant, Metatron can transfer the mana source of the hostile spell from the opponent's mana pool onto himself, giving him control of the spell. Due to the combinations of his two anti-magic spells, using any form of magic against Metatron is foolish indeed. [/size] Short Bio: One of the most ancient angels known, Metatron is granted full mastery over death, and to smite out judgement upon the denizens of earth. He has been recorded in ancient scriptures twice, once in his child form and again in his angel form. Both scriptures are cut off short, and what exactly happened when Metatron was present is unknown, save that when he appeared in his angel form, a plague followed his appearance, killing thousands before it died out.

[i] The montonous Barney song of "I love you... you love me..." was suddenly interrupted by a sudden crash, shortly followed by a small explosion. The remains of the radio was smoking, and Brendan's Warp Steel slid back neatly on to Brendan's shoulder. It was morning, and the clock indicated 6:45 a.m. Brendan groaned as he stood up, cursing whoever decided to air that pathetic excuse of a song. Nearby, Warrington was already up, or perhaps had not slept at all. The fumes dancing around him were slowly changing color, from red to blue to green. Warrington looked back sharply at Brendan. "I think I asked you not to curse Agent?" said Warrington coldly. "Sorry sir... but I couldn't help it... they just had to air that so early in the morning..." muttered Brendan, though obviously annoyed at both the radio and Warrington. Warrington returned to his work, and a few moments later, held up a beaker full of red liquid. He wavered it in the light of his lamp, and dipped his fingers in it, and brought it to his lips. The solution seemed to have satisfied him, and he poured small amounts into a set of vials, and replenished his supply in his coat pocket. Having one left over, he threw it over to Brendan, who caught it with surprise. "Use it well, agent. That drug will boost your regenerative capabilities to that of mine for a short duration of time." said Warrington simply. He stood up, cleaned off his desk, and strode out of the chamber door. Brendan looked at the red liquid with curiosity, and then absentmindedly tossed it over to his Warp Steel, which caught it deftly, and curled it away into its innermost recess. Looking up at the watch, Brendan saw that it was not 7:00 a.m... 3 hours until the appointed time. [/i]

[i] Warrington retired to his chamber, along with Brendan. Warrington was tired, but too excited to go to sleep. To pass the time, he sat down at his working desk, and a few minutes later, the clinking of test tubes and the faint wisps of noxious gas indicated his activity. Brendan sat down in front of the fire with his book, but noticing the vapors slowly drifting towards him, motioned lightly with his hands. His warp steel slid off towards the door, and clicked a small button next to the door. A slight whoosh was heard as the ventilator turned on, sucking out the noxious fumes. The Warp Steel returned to Brendan, curling around his feet like a cat. Warrington abruptly stood up, waking Brendan from his stupor. Apparently, the book Brendan was reading had bored him, as he again threw the book into the fireplace absent mindedly. Warrington walked towards the door. Brendan took a glance at the clock. It was 1:00 a.m. Warrington turned around, and called to Brendan. "Hey kid, want to go get dinner? Its late but I'm sure there's something left." Brendan stood up, all too glad. He strongly suspected that his rude awakening from the stupor was partly due to his hunger. Warrington led the way without doubt, and soon came upon the door leading to the cafeteria. Warrington opened the door with a crash, and strode in. Branden scurried in, cuddling his weapon affectionately. Sir Lowendove was not there, but another figure with a staff was eating a scanty meal of gruel and bread. The figure looked up, and continued his meal, unperturbed. Warrington sat down opposite of him, and eyed the multitude of food set on the table with hunger. Brendan also sat down, and his Warp Steel immediately picked up a plate, and began filling it with food that Brendan wanted. Warrington looked at his young comrade and smiled, then he too helped himself to the food before him. As the two sat gorging themselves, the figure opposite to them opened his mouth. "How goes Warrington? I heard that the anti-slayers are on a revival... this true?" said the figure in a foreign accent. "Yes. I don't mind, I suppose. More battles, more scums for me to kill. I don't mind at all. And how are you Father?" he replied The man pointed his staff at a nearby lamp which had gone out, and the lamp flickered, radiating brightly. This revealed the man's complexion, an affable face in the mid 40s, looking somewhat harrowed. "Not bad, I must say. Heathens are everywhere these days, and many of them have a nasty attitude. I find myself defending myself as often as I preach." said the figure. "Yes, well, I doubt that you really need to strain yourself in self-defense." said Warrington with a smile. "Yes. However, its annoying. I'm going to stay around Head Quarters for a while. Sir Lowendove wants me to stay here, most likely for the unlikely scenario of vampire break-ins. I won't complain though, I need some rest." His eyes strolled over to Brendan. "This is the young slayer I've been hearing about eh?" he said affably. "Brendan Setton I believe? Hello. My name is Father Renaldo Amiel. I'm a semi-slayer, semi-missionary. Nice to meet you comrade." said Father Renaldo, while stretching out his hands towards Brendan. Brendan tensed, but shook hands with the strange man, with some surprise in his eyes. Nudging Warrington, he whispered softly. "Who exactly is this Mr. Warrington?" he asked. "A slayer, like you, like me. He's very, very capable though, so you better show him respect." said Warrington indifferently. Father Amiel smiled at this comment, and chuckling heartily, left the room, leaning upon his staff as he went. Brendan continued to stare at the door from whence he departed, then shrugged and continued his meal. [/i]