Raiha

[COLOR="DarkOrchid"][FONT="times new roman"][i]Melstreth smiled at him, the expanse of her ever changing eyes flickering in the twilight of her room. She placed a gentle hand on the wrist grabbing her around the throat and exhaled as she pushed his hand away in a slow movement. He didn't struggle, but the force behind her fingertips clearly wasn't the strength of the average human. She was straddling him at this point, her face so close to his he could see his reflection in her pupils.[/i] "You are in my flat, safe and sound...well, safe as anyone could possibly be in my bed." "You didn't tell me who you are." [i]The girl tilted her head to one side, a river of amber tresses nearly overwhelming his senses. She flexed her neck, and he noticed, even in the dark, there wasn't a single bruise or redness around her neck. Unnatural, her flesh rippled, the muscles under her bare stomach contracting. She pushed closer to him, her breasts straining against the tightness of her shirt.[/i] "I'm just like you. Only a helluva lot sexier. ...I'm a bio soldier that rebelled against her makers. I am the product of very small gods. Melstreth Spyrus. Of the Kyung Project." [i]He wasn't terribly surprised at this point, but it was hard to surprise her. The man looked again at her eyes, and they'd shifted once more, this time to a pale green color.[/i] "You're a criminal Kessel. Even I know your name. But unlike you, nobody knows the extent of my sins." [i]He opened his mouth to say something, perhaps to deny her, but Mel was too interested to wait. She placed a delicate finger against her lips, pursing them as if to kiss it.[/i] "Instead of just killing men women and children...I sex them all to death. Well....sometimes rape. But I've yet to meet a man like you who didn't just go all in. Would you? Maybe you could even stop me from killing you at the end... ...will you?"[/FONT][/COLOR]

[COLOR="DarkOrchid"][FONT="Times New Roman"]"There's something hilarious about trying to bind a sylph of air and light with wind... silly cousin." [i]Mreelsa shrugged her shoulders in a swift liquid motion and the binding fell away as easily as anything. Then she refocused to look straight down at the thief once more and put her face close to his once more and smiled brilliantly.[/i] "And you're so wonderful, so clever. I was faking it." [i]The emphasis she placed on 'was' made him feel a sudden desire to escape the situation. He opened his mouth and was about to speak when she leaned forward and kissed his lips. Hard. For awhile. The room broke into spontaneous cheering and hollering. The vampire smirked and went back to sipping his drink. In the time between his drink and his smile, the kiss had progressed into a tongue session. The thief was confused to be sure, but when a gorgeous sylph with a modicum of control over the powers of air and light was on top of you with her tongue in your mouth... ....it's best to just go with it. When Mreelsa came up for air, the thief was panting himself, and looking at her with a mixture of lust and utter disbelief. Apparently this was his lucky day. The sorceress just looked put out. The bartender was giggling into a gin and tonic. The vampire was jealous. The cat boy was asleep and the cat girl wished she was asleep instead of working.[/i] "I think I like you." [i]She kept her face towards him, but stood up very slowly, bent over at the waist completely, her backside up in the air. People watched. She knew it. It was funny. It felt so good.[/i] "Imma keep you now."[/FONT][/COLOR]

[COLOR="DarkOrchid"][FONT="Times New Roman"][i]The thief Mreelsa had noticed come in earlier slunk through the crowd, barely drawing a glance from anyone but her. Perhaps it was just her sylph/sidhe senses working overtime, but he was trouble. Definitely trouble. But not the world ending domination megalomaniac trouble; just the pickpocket kind. Unfortunately for him, she knew what he'd try. She'd seen it all. But he didn't know that. To make a more exciting time for herself, she laughed aloud over her ale, pretending to be slightly more drunk than she would've been normally. Meanwhile the vampire in the corner chuckled and leered at whichever woman was near enough to tongue and the cat human theriomorph was reclining like he owned the chairs he was sprawled over. The sidhe leporiadem bartender laughed aloud at the antics of the people around her... ...she probably never was short on entertainment. Just as Mreelsa was starting to believe the thief would never go for it, he did. She felt his hands going for the coin pouch at her belt, the one that held no more than a few coppers and as soon as she felt him, she responded. [/i] "Try to steal from me will you boy?" [i]As she screamed those words at the top of her lungs, the sylph grabbed him by the collar and slammed him down on the wooden table she'd been hunched over moments before. He attempted to gasp out an apology, but she was already straddling him amidst the splinters of a ruined table on the stone floor. Her hand had already procured a stiletto from her boot, and the point was uncomfortably close to that which allowed men to procreate. She leaned very close to his face, her lips inches from his, spitting him with her amber eyed stare. All around her, she could feel eyes turning towards her. Interested and distracted from their own doings. She smiled at him like any happy child and slowly released his collar.[/i] "You shouldn't pick mercenary's pockets." "I...uh..." "Especially the ones that have more than two brain cells to rub together." [i]She didn't get off him, she didn't move her left hand, and when the ringing in his ears had subsided, he realized that she was purring aloud...[/i][/FONT][/COLOR]

[font=times][color=darkorchid]Clearly my sarcasm doesn't carry over will in text boxes. Oh well. To all team members with this particular person in them. Have him die in a most horrific manner in the first ten minutes. Perhaps in a freak accident. Gavin and Revolver. Get to work.[/font][/color]

[COLOR="DarkOrchid"][FONT="Times New Roman"][i]Cash in hand, Mel left the pawn shop and the owner to his own devices and sauntered down the street in the impossibly tight jeans she'd slipped into not an hour beforehand. People turned to stare, men and women alike, but most knew her by reputation. The Siren of Septu continued walking, not paying attention to the people who shied away from her almost instinctually. There was something wrong about a woman who could walk through such utter decay and depression with a genuine, and utterly believable smile on her face. Actually, she didn't mind really...the smile was real too. Just as she was about to turn the corner for her favorite bar, it exploded in a monstrous fireball of choking fumes and dark smoke. She inhaled very slowly, not at all flustered, just mildly annoyed.[/i] "So much for a quiet drink and casual flirtation." [i]Her low mutter carried a hint of anger in it, but she suppressed it with surprising skill. Instead, she circled around the back, the mob at the front moving like one gigantic moronic animal. Most likely a sheep. As she turned the corner, instead of Miss de Mercado, the nice girl who had given her so many drinks nights past wasn't stumbling out the building. Instead it appeared to be an unconscious male, one who smelled like cigarettes; at least to her heightened sense of smell. He also looked like 100 miles of bad cliche. She shrugged casually and leaned over once more to get a closer look at his face, preemptively dodging another rock that'd made it through both the front and the back windows by some feat of utter defiance of physics.[/i] "And things were going so well." [i]Then she raised her eyebrow again. Once he came back around, what better fun to be had then with a mildly groggy and not completely coherent male? She picked him up, the enhanced muscles of her arms easily lifting his weight, even as she noted he was heavier than he looked. By dodging people this time around, and cutting through back alley with enough skill to make any thief proud, she made it to the door of her own flat without any serious trouble. She might've had to kick a wino off her behind, but that was commonplace these days anyway. He didn't show any signs of waking on the trip, and nor did he when she casually dumped him on the expanse of snowy white sheets that was her bed.[/i][/FONT][/COLOR]

[COLOR="DarkOrchid"][FONT="Times New Roman"]Uh, yes Stephanie there is an underground NOW. .........ahem. Anyway, this is as per your requests, just a place for us to use as a sounding board, not that I've ever really had a use for an underground thread. But for IWSH Vol.1 I might. Moving on. Please note that you can start off in the same town as another team, and know other team members before this. One of the reoccurring themes should be interconnectivity. Another should be the importance of individuality mingled with a certain degree of teamwork, not necessarily a large one either. Diversity too. ...only here I suppose I imposed it on you, so that makes it useless. WHATEVER. So if you start in a different town, post this sort of thing for reference. Town of Nalinae; Population: 2000. Main species of town: peaceful orc, orgre, ghoul, and possibly small giants. Minorities: Everything else, including non Cymantics half elves. Main export: Muscle, Beer, Mead Main import: Food, beautiful people Location: On the shores of Nalinae Lake Nexus: No. [A Nexus is a magical means of transport between towns, almost like a teleport block, but less flashy and cool.][/FONT][/COLOR]

[COLOR="DarkOrchid"][FONT="Times New Roman"][i]Oh why the hell not?[/i] Name: Katherina Wessels Age: 25 Sex: PG has implied sex Sandy....all the time. Oh yes and Monica Lewinsky was an INTERN? Occupation: Personal assistant/secretary Biography: Perfect attention to detail, office keeping skills of any military man, and the body of a Victoria's Secret model, Katherina is an excellent addition to any political candidate's office. Highly ornamental, known for her firm sticking to 'declined to state' status, but occasionally overtaken by bouts of conservatism, she's a hot commodity. Bought and traded like a baseball card, Katherina's been sent to more meetings and functions then the average personal assistant. It could be just me, but I think her cleavage is to blame. [/FONT][/COLOR]

[COLOR="DarkOrchid"][FONT="Times New Roman"][i][center]Introduction ~~~~~~~~~~~~[/center] And at this stage in the development of things, I would like to impress upon you all the importance of being as remarkably witty and sarcastic as possible. I will judge you based on those criteria as well as ability to use your fingers on a keyboard. For your first posts, you will be meeting your team members for your quests. Team one will have to visit a Seer that's blackmailing an Elf. Team two will have to go on a dragon hunting quest that will undoubtedly not end well. Team three will have to infiltrate a party of elves with the express intent of stealing something valuable. But first...meet in whichever towns you like, start at home, start at work, start wherever you like. GO CRAZY![/i] First Team: Neuvoxraiha as Mercenary Mreelsa Kreyemuleté Revelation as Sorceress Nazani Yerazig YawnBoy as Theif Rel Nerom Second Team: Andrew as Count Vladmir the Embarrasser Ikillion as Lagus Seraim Nnmai Stephanie as Bouncer Raiyeesa Tetra of Sound as Werewolf Rika KILL IT! Third Team: Gavin as Demon Ninja Nagata Revolver as Rafael the Demon KILL IT! [strike]GuyYouMetOnline as Mercenary Leresa Krales [/strike] [center]~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~[/center] [i]Mreelsa Kreyemuleté stepped out over the lake from the isolated cave she'd been resting in. She walked on water with the best of them, feet barely touching the surface, barely breaking the stillness in the early morning. And the town was coming into her view. The town of Nalinae. Boring at best, but rumor had it there was a Seer hiring anyone with the qualifications. As a human with the powers of a sylph, Mreelsa figured there'd be something there for her. And by something, she was figuring on COIN! Lots of it. Enough to buy new armor, a new sword, perhaps more clothes, and definitely that new pair of seven league boots... Shaking herself out of the reverie, she made tracks for the town in an instant, leaping across the peninsula and giving the fishermen just setting out in the predawn cheerful waves. For her trouble, she received two glares and three catcalls. A goblin and his partners waved at her cheerily, if not cheekily, and she turned to blow a kiss before sending a burst of magic induced wind to fill their sails and drag them out to the middle of the lake.[/i] "Sillies." [i]Making her landing in a rather dramatic fashion, Mreelsa spooked three horses on her entrance and made a pixie dark out of the way only to be caught in flypaper. Ah Nalinae.[/i] "Still smells like a brewery." "Yeah but we've got the best ale in town." [i]The tavernmaster passed her by, giving her a cheerful nudge that nearly sent her flying. Not that she didn't appreciate the docile ogres that ran the local pub, but he really didn't know his own strength. Being part sylph, if she hadn't grounded herself at his approach, she would've gone flying into the rain barrel and probably made the pixie laugh itself silly at her. Assuming it ever got free of that paper trap... ....oh whatever.[/i][/FONT][/COLOR]

[COLOR="DarkOrchid"][FONT="Times New Roman"][i]In a slither of limbs, Melstreth Spyrus pulled herself up from the bed where moments ago she'd been resting. It was so quiet she could hear the clicking of her beaded earrings dancing in the breeze of her fan. Moving like a lynx, she crawled on all fours towards the foot of her bed and discovered the corpse of the man she'd taken home the night before. She paused and considered him slowly. Her brown eyes narrowed and contracted, then her pupils dialated in a sudden flash of remembrance. His name was Jovy. He'd liked her at the club, and he'd hit on her and she'd taken him. All she had to do was turn on the charm, flick her mane of hair back over one shoulder, and he'd been ready to follow her anywhere. And he had. To her den, her lair, the place where countless lives had been ended. At the final moment, the breaking point, she'd been screaming and choking him in the most auto erotic manner possible. And then she'd snapped his neck at the moment of his own orgasm. Critical limit reached. And then he'd fallen off her bed and she'd fallen asleep, even as she was covered in a silky sheen of sweat and fluids.[/i] "Ephemerial lives fading away.... ....by my hands." [i]Her voice was the only sound in her empty apartment. It pierced the air, and then faded away. And now she had a corpse. Utterly unconcerned, she stood up and slunk towards the shower, dousing herself in the ice, feeling her skin grow colder and colder. Then warmer again as the heater finally engaged. Mel didn't mind really. She paid rent in stolen money. She didn't use electricity because she could see in the dark. And tonight was another night. The body went into the incinerator. She dressed after disposing of what had been the man known as Jovy. His cash had found its way into her money clip, and her eyes had sparkled when it'd seen the rings he'd worn. Next stop? Pawn shop. And there she slapped down the loot. The owner knew her. He knew what she was. But she was good business. And she was very hot. He couldn't be bothered to not break the law for her. Especially when she leaned over the counter and gave him a flash of those beautiful tanned breasts straining to escape from the lace bras she favored.[/i] "What can I do you for?" "You might get me for free." [i]He saw her perfect teeth flash in one of her sultry smiles. Then he looked up over her shoulder at another person coming in.[/i][/FONT][/COLOR]

[COLOR="DarkOrchid"][FONT="Times New Roman"][center]Cast List ~~~~~~~~~~~~~[/center] First Team: Neuvoxraiha as Mercenary Mreelsa Kreyemuleté Revelation as Sorceress Nazani Yerazig YawnBoy as Theif Rel Nerom Second Team: Andrew as Count Vladmir the Embarrasser Ikillion as Lagus Seraim Nnmai Stephanie as Bouncer Raiyeesa Tetra of Sound as Werewolf Rika Third Team: Gavin as Demon Ninja Nagata Revolver as Rafael the Demon GuyYouMetOnline as Mercenary Leresa Krales Other notes: Please be aware that as serious as your signup may or may not have been, this is NOT a serious RPG. This is a tongue in cheek smarmy, snappy response to all the serious nonsense out there. I've divided us up into three teams, but in the initial fun, be aware that things will not stay this organized. I predict that we will be heading for downtown FUBAR soon enough. Oh yes, if I do not appreciate your writing, and find it peppered with the homonym errors that I detest so greatly, you may be killed on 'accident.' I consider that timely warning. RPG up tonight. Sign ups still open for more varied peoples, as well as villains that employ Cymantics as a politics. ENJOY![/FONT][/COLOR]

[COLOR="DarkOrchid"][FONT="Times New Roman"]Clive Owen, Paul Giamatti. First impression? Oh dear god are you freaking serious?! Are you KIDDING ME!? And apparently not. There's angry sex, torture, guns, violence, more torture, guns, blood, explosions, machetes, carrots, more torture, guns, and so on and so forth. Plot? Nah. Who needs it? This movie was god, Buddha, and every other deity rolled into one. It was everything I EVER wanted in a movie. It had more 'OH CRAP!' moments per second than any other film I've ever seen, including music videos. It was ridiculously insanely good. I looked over at my friends in the theatre and they were staring with their mouths dropped, and jaws flapping somewhere in the vicinity of their ankles. I spent most of my time laughing and or shaking my head in disbelief. In fact if I hadn't spilled water down my shirt in the first five minutes, I wouldn't have thought it real. Oh yes, and they showed previews for Kingdom and Hitman. Hitman looks AMAZING. ....just thought I'd throw that in there.[/FONT][/COLOR]

[COLOR="DarkOrchid"][FONT="Times New Roman"]Well well well, look what the cat dragged in. Well, let me say this. Good inventiveness. Great names. Great occupations. You liddle hookers you. Problem? TOO MANY WEREWOLVES! Dear god get your own! I counted perhaps three. Mask it any way you want, you're still a therimorph that takes the shape of wolves. There's a huge list. Get more inventive. Props to Andrew for his little trystical vampire. Continue as usual.[/FONT][/COLOR]

[COLOR="DarkOrchid"][FONT="Times New Roman"][i]The now mostly empty boardroom was pleasant by comparison to earlier. It was quiet. Loren could think, and think she did, while rubbing her temples counter clockwise and jiggling her left foot, the peep toe heel nearly wiggling right off of it. She inhaled the scents of coffee and varied perfumes from her female employees and then stood abruptly, nearly knocking back the chair once more.[/i] "I honestly hope you won't have a heart attack in the face of all this aggravation." [i]If anyone had taken a closer look, one would've seen Loren Fignon's pupils contract sharply, her body language tensing up in an instant. That deep, hoarse voice, the voice of her boss. The publisher of the newspaper. Mr. Johansen. He frightened her in every way possible, he was far more evil than her, and he wrote her paychecks. She snapped to attention in an instant, faster than she had ever for any other human being on the planet.[/i] "I'll be quite fine sir. The new recruits will turn out just fine." "I sincerely hope that to be the case." [i]He smiled at her the way a crocodile smiles when a particularly foolish and lame zebra limps across the river. She didn't cringe specifically, but she had drawn her shoulder's closer together, giving him a stunningly lovely example of deferential and powerless body language. She was a master of such things, not that her actions weren't learned. Once she'd stood against him and paid for it in more ways than could be easily imagined, even by her creative staff.[/i] "You realize that if even one of your stories flops, and if one of your employees fails you...it's your funeral, not just theirs." "Absolutely sir." [i]In an instant he was gone, and Loren's shoulder's visibly slumped forward. She was rankled at his condescending tone, angry at the way he threatened her, and even angrier about the way he'd threatened her own employees. Say what you like about Loren, but she did all she could to protect what she considered her own from her publisher. Grabbing her files, she stepped out the door towards her own office where there was a lock, and call waiting. She snagged two more doughnuts and a cup of fresh coffee on her way out, the door slamming behind her on springs. Ducking behind cubicles, she avoided the eye contact of her employees that remained in the office, her secretary giving her what could've been a sympathetic glance when she turned a corner.[/i] "Don't worry Ma'am, you're too valuable for him to really fire. He just likes to see you flustered." "....yes Marcie. Go back to your desk please." [i]Loren's voice was almost distant, as if the please she had spoken had sapped her strength.[/i][/FONT][/COLOR]

[COLOR="DarkOrchid"][FONT="Times New Roman"][i]Circe swept forward in a rush of wings, the backlash stirring up a huge burst of snow, her size dwarfing the newly awakened Lyrra. She might've been obscenely powerful, a gorgeous sphynx of a being, but she had no idea how to control her new body the same way that Circe had spent a veritable lifetime perfecting. Twelve wings swept forward in a flurry of feathers and blades, attacking with perfect symmetry, cutting off any escape Lyrra might have made. Throwing the weight of her body against Lyrra, she shoved her face, fangs, eyes, and horns forward to sink into the Awakened's throat. Circe tore lightly, inflicting true pain with the burning of her mouth, knocking her down into the miniature whirlwind she'd created upon takeoff. Melech jerked his body back, giving them room, as Circe savaged Lyrra's body, even as the girl scrabbled all four limbs against her, claws tearing flesh as fast as Circe renewed it. A howl of pain mingled with Circe's burst of bubbling laughter. Fur and feathers alike flew upwards with sprays and splashes of purple blood, turning white ground into a veritable rainbow of colors.[/i] "She's so wonderful...I think I'll keep her." "Strong enough to hurt you?" [i]Even as the words came from his mouth, Circe whirled her body around and slammed her wings against Lyrra in a blunt strike that hurled her into a far cliff. She laughed again, this time a lower chuckle, the sounds of rippling flesh filling the air as she re grew an entire section of her left arm. [/i] "Strong enough to be worthwhile when she's finally trained." ".....I'll kill you for this!" [i]Lyrra's awakened voice was hoarse, forced through a feline shaped throat, her rage coalescing into a huge roar of sound and pain. Mental anguish reeling through the air, but instead of instilling fear, it made a gentle smile cross Circe's features.[/i] "Tame her Melech."[/FONT][/COLOR]

[COLOR="DarkOrchid"][FONT="Times New Roman"]Once upon a time, in a kingdom several degrees removed from reality there was a force known as Cymantics. A strange and driving force, an occult formed around it with the express purpose of gaining even more Cymantics and thus gaining power. To appease the laws that govern this raw energy certain requirements and restrictions are levied upon those who would bind themselves to these laws. [i][b]The First Law: If a single Kliche fall from thy lips, all Cymantics shall leave thee by next sunrise. The Second Law: If thine accent is not Cymantics enough, thou shalt surely lose your power every moment you do not speak with it as such. The Third Law: Your death shall surely be as Cymantic as the life you have lead.[/i][/b] These laws taken into account, several things become clear. One, if you're a commoner, odds are you're not Cymantic enough to be a ruler of anything, much less an anthill. If you manage to live as foppish and fancy and dandy a life as the forces behind Cymantics require, you'll most definitely live for a very long time so long as you don't do anything particularly foolish. Meanwhile in the real world, people live out their lives whichever way they please, Cymantics and Kliches alike be damned. Feudal law holds sway as one might expect in such a fantasy setting, and there are as many species of creature as there are horrifying ways to die. [URL="http://mixedmyth.keenspace.com"]Mixed Myth[/URL] the webcomic is the inspiration for this highly and hopefully non typical fantasy rpg. Oh yes, Kliches are a fancy way of saying cliches. Don't do them. They're bad. Villains that succumb to the allure of bad Kliches usually die. The inventive and Cymantics ones don't. To be Cymantics, you're best off being both a jerk and mysterious. If the hero of the story asks you what you're up to, a proper response would be: "I'd tell you, but that wouldn't be Cymantics." For a working example of what would be Cymantics, I give you this scenario. You're about to be killed by a horde of angry mercenaries trying to shoot you full of holes. Do you... A: Run away on your own two legs and not your horse's. B: Call down fire from the skies. C: Cry like a sissy girl. Option A is not Cymantics but will probably be so stupid that you will survive. Option C is not a real option, but it's been known to happen...meanwhile option B is the most Cymantic option and will probably not result in your death as it will be unnaturally preserved by the powers of Cymantics. [i]In this story, you have groups, usually 3-4 people on quests for power, dragon slaying parties, and so on and so forth. But first you have to take a quiz, usually administered by the local Seer. "Have you ever expressed dangerous or mysterious powers in times of dire need?" "Have you or any of your party ever served the powers of darkness but realized the errors of his/her ways?" "Does anyone in your party have awesome powers mingled with amnesia?" If you answered yes to any of the above, you suffer from a condition known as 'Story line.' Better you than me.[/i] So here's the thing. You'll have to kill a most likely immortal and unbeatable dragon, or go travel across barren lands in the name of finding that which your employer has forced you perhaps at sword point to find, or maybe you'll have to play lady in waiting to a bunch of powerful, snobbish, foppish elves. Species that are acceptable are included but not limited to half dragons, elves, faeries, sidhe, animal/humans, changelings, anthrophages such as vampires, werewolves, and were-anything else you want, trolls, ogres, ghouls, goblins, selkies, and so on and so forth. Oh yes, also acceptable are sphinxes, sylphs, nixies, lorelei, lamia, half breeds of any mix, skin walkers, demons, giants, and incorporeal spirits. Please note that if you do decide to be an elf, you've decided to be a member of the ruling forces in this universe and as such will have to type out your posts in some sort of fancy schmancy script to be Cymantics enough...and your character better be both girly and frivolous and selfish and so on and so forth. Think of it as the price you pay to have both power and glory. And really pretty clothes. All other species allow for greater versatility. You could be a mercenary, a sorceress, a necromancer, an enchanter, an evocator, a Seer, and your powers could range from the obvious to the crazier. I.e. The ritual use of air quotes for mind control; also known as Thaumaquotology. Sign ups should follow this basic scheme and be sure to fulfill one of the three obligations to be part of the Story Line in order to qualify. [center][i]~~~~~~~~~~~~~~[/i][/center] Name: Mreelsa Kreyemuleté Age: 500 Species: Sylph, Human changeling Occupation: Traveling Sword for Hire Appearance: See First Attachment. Personality Flaws: Self obsessed, sarcastic to the point of cruelty, sardonic, rude and prone to overcompensation. Specialty: Air Walking; a style of fighting that uses her ability to manipulate the forces of air and cloud to her advantage, allowing her to defy the forces of gravity. Reason for Living: Mostly because killing stuff is fun and if she were dead, she couldn't kill as easily. In What Manner You Suffer from Story Line: Once Mreelsa was a naughty girl, killing on whims and being very very bad until she realized that she should probably stop killing helpless stuff and try for things that could fight back. This might have something to do with the curse leveled on her by a very annoyed Wizard. She can't kill innocents unless she wants to be temporarily turned into a five year old girl. [/FONT][/COLOR]

[COLOR="DarkOrchid"][FONT="Times New Roman"]Of course she could ALSO have a house in swanky La Jolla, the upscale part of San Diego where lots of spoiled rich people live too... .....I think Loren Fignon will spend some time making dossiers on each of her employees, or worse still, get interrogated by her boss for results. My goal is to make a character to lord over her in a horrifyingly crazy and EVIL manner. But I'm open to other suggestions.[/FONT][/COLOR]

[quote name='Sandy']D'Ann, my character is a photographer, not a reporter, so hopefully you weren't thinking that she'd make the article with Jack Jones... Just checking. ;P[/QUOTE] [COLOR="DarkOrchid"][FONT="Times New Roman"]I was thinking you sort of held his hand while he stumbled through the mechanics of being a reporter. Oh yes, and I said 'in the field' so that could mean you just cut him lose once you're out of the office... [/FONT][/COLOR]

[COLOR="DarkOrchid"][FONT="Times New Roman"]Just incase my post didn't cover it, I want to impress upon you all that Loren Fignon is a troll. A beast. A monster. A jerk. Of course she has her moments. But if you feel any reason or any need to portray her as fulfilling some sort of social courtesy, make sure she does it secretly or clandestinely. She hates it when someone thinks she's nice, even for a second. Oh yeah, and if you screw up, she'll mangle you. Most likely by putting you on world's most boring job, or worse still ....desk duty. Bury you under a mountain of paperwork and all that. Enjoy![/FONT][/COLOR]

[COLOR="DarkOrchid"][FONT="Times New Roman"][i]Loren pushed back a stray lock of her hair for the umpteenth time and strode towards the door, snatching her things from a low table as she went. A huge stack of files, a clipboard, a pen, because god knows she hadn't already stuffed two in the bun at the base of her neck. Another intern whose name she still hadn't memorized leapt with great alacrity to get the door for her, the hand that wasn't lugging her enormous attache case working the handle like it was on fire. Since there were none of her senior staff in the hall, she gave the hapless boy a brief nod.[/i] "Thank you. ....er.....your name?" "Jack Jones Ma'am." "Yes, that was it. Thank you Jones." [i]Short burst of courtesy expended, Loren charged down the hall, scattering administrative assistants and secretaries, papers scattering in the wake of her rampage. The door to the morning meeting was already standing open, and the smell of coffee, an ever present scent in the WWN office was wafting through the air like temple incense. Making the sort of dramatic entrance usually reserved for necromancers and Presidents, Loren Fignon burst into the room, slamming her effects down on the table, shaking cups of coffee, and making everyone sit up a little straighter. Short fuse wasn't the word to describe her. Neither was perfectionist. Perhaps a better term would be 'a monstrously huge ogre trapped in the body of a petite woman and trying to get out by any means necessary.' Be that as it may, Loren still ran WWN like a military compound, and produced the results that were responsible for everyone's paychecks. Behind her, Jones shivered nervously, clutching her briefcase like it would eat him if he dropped it. First things first, she sat, drawing up the first file and nearly hurling it at her subordinate's head.[/i] "Griffon!" "Good morning Ma'am." "Someone phoned in a lead. Something about Lindsey Lohan getting caught with Bigfoot in her BMW. Look into it. Alex, you go with him, I want big and splashy. ...I hate that stupid redhead bimbo..." [i]Nobody made a comment to that, and she tossed another file in Alex's direction. Then she turned her gaze to Eowyn Rivendell and all but dragged Jones by the ear to her side and then propelling him towards her oldest reporter.[/i] "Rivendell, take this nice young man with you into the field today. And these files go with him. Try not to go too easy on the sap. He needs experience and I know what a softy you are." [i]She slid a stack of files across the table to her, neatly avoiding the trays of snacks that some other intern had put down earlier. Then she turned to her three remaining employees and narrowed her eyes.[/i] "Jurgunson and Fulbrook. You have 10 hours to get your own stories and impress me with them. The bigger the stories the better. Oh yes, and you two will get to arm wrestle to decide who gets to take this dishrag of a reporter with you." [i]She waved a hand vaguely in Liam's direction, not even looking at him.[/i][/FONT][/COLOR]

[COLOR="DarkOrchid"][FONT="Times New Roman"]Seeing as how the first season of the Dresden Files just ended on the Sci Fi channel and I managed to purchase the entire Dresden Files by Jim Butcher with the notable exception of 'The White Night' I believe it's time for some Jim Butcher masturbation. Figuratively speaking of course. That is the kind in which we gush about our favorite characters as well as vote even. So as I was reading, I decided that the thing about the Dresden Files that makes them great is Harry Dresden's one liners and Bob the Spirit of Air and Intellect's equally snappy comebacks. I.e. when Harry calls Trixie Vixen, porn star a 'schlong jockey.' The witty dialogue is amusing in the extreme, and while I have yet to pick a favorite book, so far I'm enjoying number six, 'Blood Rites' the most. Oh yes, you can also talk about the series here. Complain about the differences between the book and the show, or exclaim how great those differences were. I for one appreciated that Ancient Mai of the white council was actually younger, sexy, and Asian. That's always a big winner with me. Oh yes and that the fact that there was a huge nearly invincible shapechanging dragon was nice too..... Either way my vote for favorite character remains Bob the Skull. Over 400 years old, a sex fiend, a voyeur. What more could you want?[/FONT][/COLOR]

[COLOR="DarkOrchid"][FONT="Times New Roman"]Name: Melstreth Spyrus Species: Biosoldier. Genetically enhanced female human Age: 30, but has not physically appeared to age beyond 21. Origin: Government Laboratories; The Kyung Project Occupation: Formerly an agent of the government, used as an operative in the name of taking down threats with a mix of sex and raw power. Currently? She's a sexual predator with a serious personality disorder. Personality: A true sexual predator, Mel's programing went faulty sometime between her last successful mission and the current one she's been assigned to. Shockingly, she didn't complete it and to the government's dismay, has disappeared into the urban underworld. Using her programing as well as her remaining human ingenuity, she's managed to blend in except for the frequently reoccurring incidents she participates in which tend to involve the vicious rape of both males and females as well as their untimely end. Appearance: see attachment.[/FONT][/COLOR]

[COLOR="DarkOrchid"][FONT="Times New Roman"][i]Vicky shot a look towards Gavin and headed upstairs, where Raiha had, moments before, been resting. Weakened from childbirth, she found her childhood friend holding the soft yellow blankets that had been a gift from Connor's dryad mother. Her fists were clenched loosely around the folds in the fabric, her pupilless eyes cast downward to the empty bed. Vicky stepped forward and was about to say something reassuring and entirely out of character when Raiha's head snapped upwards, pupils filling with blackness.[/i] "Raiha! Don't!" [i]Downstairs, silence reigned, Gavin and Neil for the most part, controlling their anger and pain. Will and Connor both were considering the attack with the same sort of thoughtfulness that everyone expected of them while Neil's father began dragging away the corpses. Just as Gavin turned to look towards the stairs and his bereft wife, a scream more terrible and heartbreaking than he'd ever heard shook the house from top to bottom. A shockwave from upstairs leveled what remained of the building, blue flames scorching the debris, incinerating corpses, forcing the survivors to flee or be immolated. When Vicky's eyes adjusted, she saw Raiha bent down, feral teeth and claws sprouting from her body, her shoulder blades hunched over. Tears streamed from her eyes, evaporating instantly, floating upwards beyond her, disappearing into a bloody, white hot aura. Her second scream created a blast wave that put huge cracks in the concrete paths and driveway, nearly shaking people off their feet. Then all that could be heard was a broken sobbing, and what was left of Raiha curled up over the last thing that had touched her children.[/i][/FONT][/COLOR]

[COLOR="DarkOrchid"][FONT="Times New Roman"]Name: Loren Fignon Age: 36 Profession: Editor At Large Area(s) of Expertise: Cryptozoology, Conspiracy Theories Physical Description: While her profession on her business cards is listed as 'Editor At Large,' the Weekly World News' top editor is actually quite diminutive. Of mixed European and Asian descent, Loren has some of the better features of both races. Creamy olive colored skin, black almond eyes, dark brown hair, and slender build. An ectomorph as a result of genetics, Loren is annoyed by the fact that while she is only 5'2", she has huge hips. Perhaps she'll eventually spring for that hip reducing surgery she was told about by a colleague last week. Brief History and Personality Description: Not a journalism major, Loren started out her career as an intern that was often made to edit her boss's paper's which eventually began to garner attention when actual results were achieved. From there it was a relatively simple process of playing the gender card as well as using her actual talents to claw her way to the top of the proverbial ladder as it were. And now that she's there, some of her bigger character flaws have been revealed. Loren's ego is rather big, perhaps as an overcompensation for her short stature. She also has an unfortunate habit of talking down to people beneath her that have the slightest inclinations towards attitude. Be that as it may, Loren hasn't succumbed to the usual 'female in charge' tendency to spend her time destroying other women in the work place and she does do nice things for people every now and then... ...she just won't take the credit for it and does it generally in secret.[/FONT][/COLOR]

[COLOR="DarkOrchid"][FONT="Times New Roman"][i]Lyrra didn't panic, denoting her experience with Awakened Beings in the very manner with which she stood. Of course she was still afraid, and what insignificant being wouldn't be? Perhaps insignificant was too harsh of a word. After all, she hadn't run screaming in panic, and she wouldn't have time to if she wanted to. Instead, Circe advanced very slowly, her wings fluttering behind her, mimicking the movement of any beautiful butterfly's. Her third eye slowly focused on Lyrra's face, taking in the yoki slowly streaming through her body.[/i] "You're so cute... .....I'll bet we can make you even more lovely." [i]Circe flicked her wings forward and tendrils of feathers coursed around Lyrra's form, pulling her closer to Circe's body. She struggled as best she could, her eyes changing color, but even as she did struggle, it did very little good, and all the straining and writhing of her limbs didn't lessen the power of the grip she was held in. Snaking slender lines of flesh around Lyrra's neck, and extending a trailing claw to slowly rip down the throat of the Claymore, Circe smiled with what could only be a mindless, twisted pleasure. Her voice snaked through the air, choking the bravado out of the response Lyrra was about to snap out, as Melech prowled around both his woman and his prey.[/i] "Struggling will do you very little good. But if it makes you feel any better..." [i]The Awakened female whipped her whole body around, nearly crushing the breath out of Lyrra's throat instead of simply holding her immobile. The sound of happy laughter drifted across the sound of howling snow, caressing Melech's ears. In an instant, Circe had dumped Lyrra's body down next to her sword, swirling back to watch her from more than a short distance, her wings swirling around her like an evening gown. She casually crossed her arms, splaying her fingers and flicking the trailing pieces of her body back out of reach of a casual sword swing.[/i] "Let's see what you're capable of. Dancing Lyrra." [i]Lyrra ducked forward, grasping her blade in an instant and swinging it around, her arm fluttering in a dazzling burst of speed and light that made her claymore fan outwards in ever widening arcs. Circe deflected her attack with a swing of her left arm, the tendrils across her elbow and upper arm pushing back with very little force. Her right snapped forward, clipping off a few strands of Lyrra's hair in passing, and she stepped back, the platinum blonde hairs glowing gold against the pale snow.[/i] "You'll have to release more of your powers if you want even a chance of hitting me..." [i]Lyrra stepped back to reposition her arms as she looked at the ground in what seemed like defeat. Then she whipped her head back up in a blaze of light as her eyes snapped into a feral gold and she brought her Claymore up faster than Melech anticipated.[/i][/FONT][/COLOR]

[COLOR="DarkOrchid"][FONT="Times New Roman"][i]Circe stepped delicately down from the snow covered rocks she'd been perched on and began to drift down into the lower valley that led up to Pieta. Melech followed barely a handsbreadth behind her, hovering behind her left shoulder like a scion of protection. The Claymore briefly considered running, but she'd seen enough of Circe to know better. Or at least she thought so. The girl stared in abject fascination as Circe stepped down the stones as if on a staircase wrought of marble and paused, turning her head to stare directly at the Organization's number 6. She who had thought she'd hidden her Yoki so cleverly forced her will to steel itself, and drew her weapon, the symbol she'd obtained years ago holding steady. When she spoke, her voice rang out soft, yet strong enough to be heard, and Melech forced back a brief flickering of desire.[/i] Circe, of the Cold Light. Former number 2." "And you? So charming and cute. ....you must be a new one." [i]The Claymore stood tall enough to look Circe in the eye, and she did. Silver clashing against dark green. Beautiful and impossible. Melech felt the tension sweep across the pair of them, and sensed the girl sending yoki to her arm, about to strike forward in an offensive maneuver meant to take Circe's head off. Definitely a mistake. Circe didn't appear to move to either the Claymore girl or Melech, but that hardly mattered. The sword had been swung directly for her face, but it had stopped cold several inches away, and when the warrior tried to withdraw her blade, she found herself tugging pointlessly. Her blood ran cold. Circe had caught her blade cleanly in one hand. A transformed, awakened limb. Her right hand had become the huge taloned appendage that had so recently been destroying others of its kind. Circe was smiling now. Amused in a gentle, pleasant way.[/i] "That was a very good try. Now tell me your name and I promise to allow your head to stay attached to your shoulders." [i]The girl didn't gulp audibly, but she had to swallow once to clear her throat. Normally she would've continued with her attack, but powering up her own yoki would only make it that much easier for Circe to know where to defend. Instead, she relaxed her grip slowly, even though Circe certainly hadn't.[/i] "I am number six. Lyrra." [i]Circe's smile widened. Her teeth sparkled impossibly white and her eyes snapped and glittered with pleasure. She paused, considering the options; Kill the little thing or torture her into awakening? Ah choices. They were always so delightful.[/i][/FONT][/COLOR]