Wondershot

"Gee, I hope this turns out well." The figure in the massive ergonomic black swivel chair twisted around nervously and caught a ray of the early-morning sunlight right in his eye. Seeing spots, he unequivocally rotated the swivel chair in the opposite direction, only to bang his knee on the side of the heavy wood. He inhaled deeply though his teeth and gripped his knee, rubbing it gently with three fingers. "Ok...maybe this isn't going to turn out so well." The figure rose steadily from the chair, gripping both arm rests heavily to make sure his leg wasn't hurt at all, and a few more rays from the five a.m. sunrise caught his eyes. He didn't mind this time, though, as he thought the place looked a whole lot better with a little yellow light washing everything out. "Just like a movie." He decided to spin around and check out the computers on the far tables, and absently picked up a camera from the desk. He slowly unfolded the LCD screen from the side, and removed the lenscap...agonizingly slowly. He began looking through the manual viewfinder. He looked at the table on the side with all the computers...then at the door to the room...then to the massive window into the sunlight, watching it glint eerily across the lens. "So cool..." He put the camera back down and took inventory of all the goods strewn around the premises and tacked to the wall. Posters of films and live performances of days gone by, class schedules, a few dust-caked pictures and notices from the head office. All the more recent and important memos were either stacked on the desk or scattered about, filed in with the scripts and lying on top of the boxes in the corners. "...I thought he was more organized than this." He began walking back towards the desk, his hands running quickly over the innumerable notices and class schedules...even a few lost items that clearly belonged to the students (unless his teacher had developed a thing for cartoon-painted pencil cases in his absence). He took another glace out the window, before collapsing into the chair and a loud rumbling issued from under it. "...I'm hungry." Within a few moments, the senior student, now the teacher, in his beige-toned suit and black tie, fell asleep in his ex-teacher's chair. An hour passed...then two, then three, and the piercing shrill of the morning bell barely managed to rouse him from his sleep. "Where am I...oh yeah, I've got a meeting to get to." The senior student tucked his tie back into his suit, and slipped his shoes on just as he walked out the door, closing it quietly behind him. "I hope this turns out well." Welcome to "Senpai", where you can finally prove to our poor, inexperienced senior student that as a film class, you guys can make movies that will blow your fellow student's minds (and hopefully your teacher's, as he will be grading it). This is a movie-making RPG, and if you've read some of the instructions in the related Underground Thread, (see link) then you should have a pretty good idea of what this is about. In this RPG, you will be writing scripts for a high school film class so that you can produce a movie for your final exam. The senior student enters our class in mid April, meaning that it's almost time for exams, so our substitute will be struggling to get his class in shape for actual film production and shooting. This is not to say that his students can be completely lax about their finals (they took film for a reason, you know). They will be working hard under the watchful eye of their sub so that they can have a good script within the first week or two, and start shooting as soon as possible. The structure of the RPG goes as follows: [list] [*]Introduction (class meets "Senpai" for the first time, and we get to know a bit about the characters in the first class) [*]Script Classes (Senpai does almost nothing here. It is up to the students to develop a workable script for a movie.) [*]Production (Senpai helps the kids turn their classes best scripts into film. The class is divided up depending on how many scripts there are, and they get to work. Shooting is done, and planning can be done among students on their own time (shooting does not have to be in chronological order, as the editors can put all the clips on tape into chronological order after all the production is complete).) [*]Editing (The work is edited so that all the shooting is put into order and the film is essentially complete. Editing includes, but is not limited to: cutting and constructing clips, sound design, adding of digital effects, voice overs, etc.) [*]Final (Students can finally present their creations to their "real" teacher for grading.) [/list] For the script classes, each student will have to submit a synopsis or, if they choose, a full working (rough) script to "Senpai" for their grading. Every student must submit a script, but not all scripts will be made into movies. After "Senpai" chooses the best scripts, the class will be divided up so that the other students whose scripts were not selected will be the cast and crew for the other characters' productions. Students may put suggestions for teams or people they would like to work with in their scripts, but they will not always be heeded. The chosen scripts must be then made into full scripts before production starts. During production, the students will mostly describe the events in day-to-day shooting of their film, and talk about their time making the movies amongst themselves. This gives the students a little time to grow in terms of their own personalities, and the personalities of the people whom they are pretending to be. Have fun with this one. During editing, not everyone is doing something all the time, but the students, for the most part, have time to relax and those doing the editing can describe their point of view on the films. "Senpai" will often talk with the class on their experiences during production, and editing is often his favourite step, and is always there to lend his assistance. During this part, "Senpai"'s personality comes into play a little more as he interacts with his students. This stage is just for some fun, and can be as short or as long as you (the characters) want it to be. Finally, during the final presentation of the film, the creator(s) can describe the flow of the movie in novel form if he so chooses, and the other characters can add their own commentaries as they like. "Senpai" basically remains invisible during the stage, except when he steps in on behalf of his students for how they worked during production and editing. And that's it...sounds easy, eh? Despite the short length of this RPG, (the length, for the most part, depends on the participants) I will expect a lot of writing from the script creators, so if you're confident you want to do the most writing in this RPG, then convince me ("Senpai") that you can do so well by showing me your awesome scripts and ideas, so that we may make your movie. As far as actual sign-ups go, here you are. (All this is to be solely grounded in real life, no fantastic races or people with special powers allowed) Name: Country of Origin: Appearance: (This only goes as far as specific facial features and height, all the students are in uniform.) Biographical Description: (Simply write about an event from your character's point of view so that I can get some of the fundementals of their personality and know a bit about their past as well. The event can be humourous, tragic, just an everyday occurence, or anything as long as it tells me something about the person.) As you can tell, the signups are not what will make you or break you in this story, it's your actual participation in the RPG that will tell me if I really want you to continue. I'll be somewhat critical about the signups, but remember that only the best scripts will end up being published, and if you have some kind of problem with working on another's project, too bad. For information on writing in script form and such, please refer to the Underground thread linked above. If you feel like being creative with HTML for your signups and work too, then go nuts. I'll soon be putting up some HTML work for your usage in this RPG, if so you choose. Eventually, though, all final drafts of scripts will be written using an HTML setup I am working on right now. If anyone here is experienced in HTML I could probably use your help and would greatly appreciate it if you could PM me. Thank you, and enjoy film class, young actors.

Well, I don't mean to advertise my ideas too much, but I'm hopng to put up "Senpai" sometime soon, despite the apparent lack of interest in the Underground. Why? because for the way it is set up, I believe that it can fly with the help of a few dedicated writers I know. It's set up to be extremely short in terms of actual storytelling, and will require a lot from each individual writer all at once. In a way, it's a spinoff of the Kill Adam Chapter System, since each person will usually spend more time and effort on their own work and can post whenever they need to, rather than always having to adapt to what other people are typing in the same story at erratic intervals. I'm only using my work as an example, though, so you'll forgive me if I refer to it once in a while. An original idea in AI might not always fly, because original ideas usually require something that your average RPer is not really prepared to give. Usually, if you are given a story with more or less "carte blanche" as to what you are going to do, it's easy to develop a character around the wide borders that the creator is looking for. An adventure RP gives a clear idea of what the creator is looking for, and so the writer in question can just go crazy with his idea and not have to conform to many standards. In Senpai, for example, the standards and character borders will be a lot more strict, because the characters themselves, going to a private school film class, will all be in uniform and therefore eliminates the need for specific appearance description, which is what some people may like doing. Also, the requirment of submitting of scripts means that a few people will have to do a lot of writing in an undefined amount of time, limiting time for character development significantly. [quote name='James']Many people just want a quick and fun RPG; they don't want something too laborious or difficult.[/quote] Well, I'm guessing that's exactly why K.A. had a limited number of RPers. I admit, at first I was a little surprised since so many people had recruited for K.A. Vol.1 and only about seven or eight were accepted. In retrospect, I understand that you had the concept right on the money, James, as I see that with just a few RPers, K.A. turned out quite well. As for the issue of sound/HTML in RPs, I'm working on it, but not everyone is willing to learn enough HTML to try and make it look much better. I can understand why, though, as the background for Senpai took more time than I think it was worth after all. As for sound, well, K.A. Vol. 2 used mp3 files, and not everyone is willing to search for webspace to put up their music (especially since most of it would require payment). This is just my opinion, but I'm not sure people would be quite so willing to put up MIDI, either, as I think most MIDI sounds too poor to set an adequate mood for a scene. If I need to set a mood, I can always just write the lyrics in the post of the song I have in question (see my latest post in terra's "stress relief"). Otherwise, I allude to the song in question some other way. Otherwise, I agree in the sense that someone out there sould try and break the norm of RP's, and try something unusual like the Chapter System or anything else that they can come up with. That's why I RP so rarely now, as I am always trying to find a new (and hopefully appealing) way to present an unusual idea. Either way, I think that RPs should be fun, too, and if you want something very original, work hard and try making it. If it doesn't work in the actual Adventure Square, I feel that the experience should be validating enough. (I did have a lot of fun working on Senpai, so you should have fun making your own RPG idea. Otherwise there's not much point, is there?)

My road to playing DDR has been a long and winded one, after watching people play this new and wondrous (to me, anyway) game on a trip to the West Edmonton Mall, I started obsessing over how I could get my hands on this game, and, four years later, I learn it is available for PlayStation systems, and I only decided to finally buy DDR MAX over the summer, upon which I used my four years of experience in watching other people play to catch on rather steadily, (The first song I tried was Matsuri Japan on light, which was a major mistake). Anyway, I've been having fun with my DDR MAX and recently-bought EXTREME as of late; and, personally, I like hearing some of the (no matter how ancient) U.S. songs in the new mix. I actually found myself wondering what it would be like trying this game to more familliar music, and it was rather fun. I actually like hearing and doing the steps to "Kids in America" once in a while, and "Wonderland UKS Mix" has a fun set of arrows on heavy for doing tricks to. I'm actually trying to perfect this routine where, instead of always hitting the up arrow with my right foot and the others with my left at the beginning, I switch between my left and right foot every two up arrows, starting with the right. This is a little dangerous in the sense that it forces me to jump using one foot from the down arrow to the up arrow with all my body wight shifted back, and I'm usually missing the up arrow completely, or when I land, I'm so off balance that I can't keep up with the rest of the arrows. If anyone has any ideas for that I'd love to hear them. In terms of song value, some of my favorites would have to include (on Heavy or Challenge if they are Challenge-only): On The Jazz (how often do you hear rapping to jazz music?) Tsugaru Apple Mix (The first 9-foot song I've ever done, the original mix still eludes me.) Maximizer (this song is GOD, it's borderline 8-foot/9-foot if you ask me, but only because it's quite fast considering the amount of streaming involved, and the clusters of five sixteenth arrows at the beginning I only hit out of pure luck.) Wild Rush (It's like six songs in one!) DROP OUT (From Nonstop Megamix) (Again, not good enough to do the original on heavy, even though the sequence near the end is identical.) A (It's just cool, and even though it gets fast near the end, the streams are limited and easy to follow. Apparently, this song is actually by [spoiler]dj TAKA under a pseudonym.[/spoiler]) i feel... (The second nine-foot I've ever completed, but just barely...Those arrows are wild.) You're Not Here (It's in [spoiler]Silent Hill 3,[/spoiler] 'nuff said.) Anyway, since maladjusted asked, the way I started being able to do Heavy songs a little easier is by learning a bit more about recognizing patterns in long-streaming songs (From now on, [color=red]I'm using only examples on heavy mode[/color]). If you look at a song like "Holic" in DDR MAX, or maybe "Kick the Can" or "A" in EXTREME, you see that the arrows follow a clear pattern that shows up on the screen, usually: {left, down, up, right, down, up,} repeat as necessary. This means that you can hit the left arrow with the left foot, the down with the right, up with the left, and right with the right, then down with the left, up with the right, and left with the left again to start the pattern a second time. If you do this repeatedly, you notice that all you're really doing is alternating the steps you take for the up/down arrows, starting with the left if you're coming from the right, and vice versa. You will notice that you can keep your center of gravity more or less in the middle of the pad while you do this, and it doesn't take much effort. After you do this, you will be set to recognize other patterns better as well. After that, you might consider trying a song with completely randomized arrows just to see how well you can recognize both the aforementioned patterns and the subtle spacing between 1/4, 1/8, and 1/16. If you have MAX, try "Secret Rendezvous". If you have EXTREME, try something like "i feel...", "On the Jazz", or "Move your Feet". I don't have MAX2, so If anyone has suggestions for the above criteria then you might be able to fill me, and maladjusted, in on them. On that note, I'd like to know if anyone has any tricks for doing better on "Frozen Ray (for Extreme)" on Heavy. I've successfully completed it once, but only barely. usually I start screwing up around the early-middle section when they throw in 1/16 arrows with streams, and I can't really do the stream near the end too well, either. On one last note, I was wondering what people think of using the standard PS2 controller instead of the pad for play. I have to do this sometimes because the TV downstairs is occupied and the carpet in my room is too thick to play there. I usually do all right with it, but contrary to popular belief, I consider myself far better with the pad. The only advantage of the controller is that your thumbs can move faster than your feet, but I find that I can carry a beat better when I'm standing up and actually moving with the pad than sitting down with the controller, as sometimes I hit the buttons a step too early, and sometimes, for some odd reason, I usually let go of freeze arrows too soon when I'm using the controller. I don't know why, it's just a reaction. Which are you guys really better with? EDIT: Oh yeah, one last thing, did the fact that the arrows in EXTREME are smaller than in MAX throw anybody off at first? The first song I tried when I got EXTREME was "PARANOiA ETERNAL" on Standard, and I kept stepping too fast because the arrows were smaller and, thus, didn't move as fast. Just a thought.

Well, I've tried getting a little back into banner making, and, unfortunately, had to try making my first good animated banner after seeing some other animated artwork. In this case, I've been having quite a time trying to make an Armored Core banner (so much screen capturing is giving me carpal tunnel syndrome), and here are the results. Unfortunately, I can't really add much text or interesting effects like that just yet, but here is the first step. [img]http://www.otakuboards.com/attachment.php?attachmentid=21328[/img] I know it has no border, and over-optimization makes it look ugly. It's 50 frames at 7/100/sec, except for the end, which is 126/100/sec. If I try and optimize it any more, the colours will become far too grainy. Therefore, I ask...should I try and optimize again? Or perhaps make it a bit smaller? Would it still look right if it was any smaller? The images were from an Armored Core Nexus trailer, and as soon as I get some better equipment I can proabably make an animation of live combat. If you have anything to add or suggest about what you see right now, be it style or optimization advice, I'd love to hear it. EDIT: Hmph, I just figured out a little more on the size limitations on attachments and linked banners, so I'll try and improve the quality of the actual animation and link from elsewhere. Please try and comment on the basic animation style anyway!

[i]"Tiny tiny, a little faith, I bet he played a little, bend the norm, Sit still, stand up straight, You know you've got to concentrate..."[/i] Tae Won absently strummed his guitar, unplugged, of course, as the sound of bare feet against wood floor told him that he had some company in the steaming sauna room. He glanced casually upwards to see Yu-Kan enter, fully clothed, looking rather lost. (which was quite normal for Yu-Kan, only in this situation even more so) "Is this the cafeteria?" He asked halfheartedly, tugging at his collar in response to the steam permeating the room. Tae-Won rolled his eyes with a small smile, looking up at the older man. "No, you took a wrong turn and ended up in the giant snack-bar deep-frier. Better get out before they grind you into fries and serve you to Johnny and Adrienne." Yu-Kan flinched at this, and looked over at Tae-Won, barely recognizable through the steam. "Oh, thank you, giant french-fry. I'm sorry this had to happen to you." Tae-Won burst out laughing and emerged from the steam cloud, draping an arm around Yu-Kan's shoulders. "I'm just kidding, old guy, come in and take a seat." Yu-Kan flicked Tae-Won's arm away, falling back in what appeared to be a slightly...actually, seriously off-balance fighting pose. The Korean rocker cocked a curious eyebrow at Yu-Kan's odd stance. "You were just trying to lure me into your trap, French Fries! Your tactics won't work on me!" The Korean youth paused for a moment, looking at himself, and just about to register his incredulity at the fact that Yu-Kan could confuse his East-Asian complexion for that of a large deep-fried potato. However, he had to pause just long enough to step out of the way as the old man rushed right up for a slide kick, but continued to slide across the wet floor right into the sauna charcoal pit, landing feet first in the red-hot stones, and not appearing to notice. Tae-Won recoiled at the sight of Yu-Kan attempting to regain his footing by puttting his hands on the hot coals, and a small sizzling was heard as Yu-Kan's exposed hands gripped the hot coals, and hurled them directly at Tae-Won. Tae-Won bent slightly to his side and dodged the first stone, but the second caught his towel, burning a black hole at around waist level. Tae-Won whipped the towel off to reveal a pair of swimming trunks with little blue guitars decorated on them, and Yu-Kan raced off the hot coals to attempt a punch at Tae-Won's face. [i]"Oh pick it up, and put it in, You chose a great party, Tiny tiny, a little faith, I bet he played a little, bend the norm, Play it on, play, play it on. (x4)"[/i] The agile Korean jumped back from the punch, and landed his own uppercut at the old man, clocking him right on the chin. Yu Kan slid beck a few feet, but seemed no worse for the wear as he rushed forward a second time to try and catch Tae-Won with another blow. "Resilient old man..." Tae-Won muttered as Yu Kan threw punch after punch, giving Tae-Won enough downtime to dodge every blow. Yu-Kan, however, seemed far from finished, as the rapidity of his blows began to gain tempo and Tae-Won really had to go on the defensive if he hoped to dodge everything. "Fast old man.." Tae Won managed as he dodged a right hook from Yu-Kan, only to catch a glimpse of a wrinkly left fist headed for his midsection. Tae Won returned to his upright position, and cupped his two hands as though to catch the punch like a football. The punch, however, carried such enormous force that Tae-Won was pushed back several feet, carried by the slick floor, before hitting the opposite wall. "Strong old man!" Tae Won cried as Yu-Kan's next double punch hit the wall, sending long cracks down the otherwise smooth surface. [i]"Saddle up, and get the tape, Saddle up and get the tape, Wrap me up, and tear me down, Red tape fill up all this ground, Tiny tiny, a little faith, I bet he played a little, bend the norm, Stay still, sit up straight, You know you got to concentrate, Play it on, play, play it on. (x4)"[/i] Tae-Won managed to barely dodge a heavy kick from Yu-Kan and jump onto the wooden dais, just as the door opened and Adreinne entered...back first. Tae-Won just stared at this, until he realized that the door had been opened by Johnny, who was currently engaged in a long kiss with Adrienne, and had just opened the door for her. However, the two of them were completely oblivious to what was going on, so the Korean managed to enlighten them by dropkicking Yu-Kan in the chest, sending him sliding back into the opposite wall, and landing with a thud next to Adrienne, who opened her eyes and screamed. Johnny glanced at Yu-Kan in confusion, then at Tae-Won on the dais. "What's going on?" He asked, more annoyed at the fact that his romance had been interrupted than at the fact that there appeared to be a battle going on in the same room. "Watch it! He's gone crazy!" Tae-Won cried, dodging a flying kick from Yu-Kan which splintered the wall. Tae-Won managed to get a hand on his precious guitar, and lifted it up to black a jab from Yu-Kan, causing the strings to vibrate discordantly. [i]"Play it on... Play it on, play, play it on (x4) Play it on...(x4) Play it on, play, play it on, Play it on..."[/i] Tae-Won, now completely tired of this confrontation, spun around quite rapidly thanks to the slick floor, and gave a circular cut to Yu-Kan's leg, sending him flying off the dais into the hot coal pit once again. Yu-Kan began to regain his footing, but Tae-Won wasn't about to give him another chance to throw searing coals, and delivered a flat-sided blow with his guitar to Yu-Kan's head, sending another dissonant chord down the strings. Yu-Kan reeled from the blow, and he turned around slowly just as Tae-Won shuffled backwards slightly for his big finishing blow. "Waaaahahaha!" Tae-Won uttered his Bruce Lee-like cry as he unloaded an explosive heel kick to Yu-Kan's chin, sending him flying, as though wire-guided, right into the top corner of the room, whereupon he hit his head on the ceiling, and fell unconscious to the floor. Tae-Won cast a cocky glance around the room, as thought expecting someone to acknowledge his victory against a wrinkly old man. As though in answer, the ceiling and walls of the entire room fell apart, revealing a huge set, surrounded entirely by cameras from all angles and Ellie sitting in a director's chair standing at least ten feet off the ground. "Cut! That was great, all, that's a wrap!" Tae Won stared incredulously around the room as Yu-Kan was helped to his feet by a couple of stagehands, while others picked up the charcoal pit and blew most of the steam out of the area. Ellie, meanwhile, was helping herself to a small snack table just as the entire meaning of what had just happened began to sink in. Face red, Tae-Won marched up to Ellie just as she began spreading some kind of unidentifiable pink spread onto a cracker. "What the hell just happened?!" Tae-Won cried indignantly while Ellie ignored him, holding him up a platter, mouth half full. "Shrimp?" She asked innocently, and Tae-Won flinched. "NO!...You mean you were filming that whole thing?!" Ellie grinned and looked at Tae-Won condescendingly. "Reality TV is a huge market, Tae-Won, we might as well cash in on it while it lasts." Tae-Won watched with disgust as Ellie finished her cracker. "Is there anything you won't do for ratings?!" Ellie opened her mouth to speak, but then put on a pensive look as she put a finger over her closed lips, pondering the question. "As in...do myself? Or do to other people? "Urgh! You're even sicker than those people who make professional wrestling!" Ellie suddenly had a small gleam in her eye, as a small smile cracked over her face. "Wrestling...." A second later, her hand shot out and shook Tae-Won's, as her small smile cracked out into full-blown expression of euphoria. "Tae-Won, you're a genius!" She rushed over to the stage crew and bellowed into her megaphone. "All right, people! We're moving over to the Lot 42 to set up! We're making our own [b]pro wrestling show![/b]" This was met by loud cheers from the male stageheands, and Tae-Won slapped a hand to his forehead. "This can't be happening..." He began to walk off stage dejectedly, when he spotted a couple of men taking his clothes off stage and moving towards another set. "Hey!...hey, WAIT!" Tae-Won cried, already in pursuit. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- OOC: The song in the background is "Red Tape" by Agent Provocateur.

?Hi, sir.? The older, gray haired man in the large black swivel chair did not look up, for he had already recognized the voice of his stalker...that is to say, visitor. A quick glance around the room told the visitor that the day had proceeded as normal, as the usual blue plastic chairs littered the cracked decade-old tile, leaving hundreds upon thousands of scratch marks upon the floor in a chaotic cloud. Fading sunlight poured in through the quarter-open window, only serving to agitate the dust flinging through the air rather than providing acceptable air circulation through the room. iMac computers sat disconnected along the row of tables at the far side of the room, the only section decorated by tangled black wire, a messy stack of camcorder tapes only outdone by a messier stack of the clear plastic cases they came in. This all told the senior student walking through the room that everything was just peachy today in class. The gray-haired man (also dressed in gray) in the black chair looked up only for a moment, just to take in the visage of the senior student, before glancing immediately back at the stack of folders littering his desk. ?You don?t have to call me ?sir? anymore, young man.? He said in a clear voice, only punctuated by an even clearer nasal quality to it. The senior student grinned and let a large black backpack fall off his left shoulder onto a blue chair with a small thud. ?Well, I thought you might have appreciated the visit...what?s with this ?young man?, anyway? You usually say that when you?re mad at someone.? ?You graduated, so I can?t exactly treat you as informally as my other students.? ?Oh, but sir, that makes it seem like you never even knew me.? The student looked out the window at the school grounds just in timed to see a huge steamroller run right past the window, and a man sitting on a running riding mower was chatting to another man in an orange vest and wearing a hard hat. The senior student glanced back in the direction of the tape stack, when the voice from behind him made him jump slightly. ?So, did you forget something in this room at graduation?? ?Am I really being such an intruder, sir? I can go if I?m bothering you.? The senior student began walking towards the door, when a sigh from behind him enticed him to pause in mid-stride. ?Well, I just don?t get why you keep coming back here, since you graduated, and decided to try going to that film school...why are you even here? Isn?t the school year still on for you?? The senior student grinned. ?Shorter year, sir, we?re on summer vacation now.? ?In April?? The senior student whirled around and slapped his forehead, voice now laced with panic. ?Oh geez, It?s April? Really? I totally forgot about final exams. Guess I had better call my parents and get a plane ticket back to Toronto.? The teacher didn?t react, even when the senior student paused in mid-stride to reach for his schoolbag, a smile creeping onto his face. ?It was a joke, sir. I was being humourous.? ?I know, but you dropped the joke too soon, you should have been out the door before I would have fallen for it.? ?Oh, just so you could slam it in my face? Get real, sir.? The teacher returned to his desk, leaving the senior student to look at the innumerable stack of tapes. ?Well? Fifth-form students starting their movies yet?? ?Sixth, fifth start tomorrow.? ?Oh, that?s awesome, sir. I?d love to be able to see the guys in action again.? The teacher watched as the senior student picked a tape out of the pile, marked ?April ?03 XX?. ?This is the tape with ?Demons? on it, isn?t it, sir?? ?Was. The fifth-form kids start working on it tomorrow...? The teacher paused in mid sentence, looking up at the senior student. An unusual thought crossed both parties? minds, but the senior student spoke up first. ?Well, I would sure love to see them do it...? The senior student began, but stopped as the teacher stood up abruptly and began cramming file folders into his briefcase. The teacher continued. ?Maybe, you know, it wouldn?t be such a bad idea if you could take the class over for a little while, since the school is allowing university senior student-teachers to fill in for a few weeks of classes.? The senior student?s jaw dropped, but he hastily closed his mouth and pointed a thumb towards the door. ?Well, I?d have to call my school...and, you know...it?d be hard since I?m on vacation...? The teacher clasped a hand on the senior student?s shoulder. ?Maybe, but I?m sure we could vouch on your behalf, since you decided to come back for your summer.? The senior student?s smile fell instantaneously, and he put on an expression of the utmost seriousness, even if a little scripted and mechanical. ?Sir, I swear that if you let me teach these kids about film, then I?ll do anything to pay you and the school back.? ?Anything?? The senior student raised his right hand, as though taking an oath at the witness stand. ?Anything.? ?In that case, tomorrow you come in wearing a suit, and I want to see your return ticket to Toronto dated at the end of this school year.? The teacher patted the senior student?s shoulder. ?Have fun teaching film.? The senior student paused thoughtfully, before replying: ?Um, so does that mean you?re not coming in tomorrow?? ?I?ll be here, but I expect you to be able to handle the class without my help.? The senior student smiled. ?Do I get paid?? The teacher paused with his hand on the door. ?...No.? The senior student walked for the door. ?Well, I?ll see you tomorrow, sir.? The teacher smiled, and locked the door behind him. This is an idea for an RPG that I have been mulling over for the past little while, and finally donated enough time and thought to try putting up an idea in Underground. The people who would sign up for this RPG would take on the role of high school students taking a Film Studies class as an elective. Normally, such a class operates under the basis of theory, but now that the senior film student can manage the class, the time is right of the entire group to start making their own short movies. For this reason, the RPG structure itself is very different from most others. In this case, even though I am the "creator" of this RPG, direction of plot is not in my control, it is the film students, the people who sign up, who decide what they want to do in terms of plot, and how they would put their ideas together to make a good film. This is a more hands-off approach on my part, and since direction of plot goes towards the film students, it emphasizes communication between the people actually writing the film scripts. However, I'm getting a little ahead of myself. As soon as a signup goes up in Adventure Inn, each person would give us a little background on their characters, but not too much information is required since the emphasis is on their acting and scriptwriting. After everyone arrives in class (after the RPG itself begins), I would ask that each character submits short synopses of an idea for a movie, and that the best ideas would be selected and the entire class could work together on turning the ideas into scripts, and then start shooting their movies. For this reason, depending on how many people decide to sign up for this RPG, we could end up making up to three movies (If around 12-15 people join). After the scripts are finished, the students would go through the ordeal of finding location, getting props and costumes, and actually shooting during class time/their own time. After all the raw footage is taken, the groups edit their films, courtesy of the computers at their disposal, and convert the films to DVD and hand them in to the teacher (If you guys like, you could actually add the actual viewing of the film as part of the end of the RPG, since writing in script form and writing in descriptive novel form are completely different things). When submitting a synopsis, people would write in novel form, but if their submissions are accepted, they, as well as the rest of the group they are working with, would convert the ideas into a script form, complete with stage direction and setting information, and written in the usual script form (You can skip over the next part if you have some experience writing in screenplay script form). For those of you unfamiliar with script form, here is an example of more or less how it works (excerpt from "West Side Story"): [color=red]52B - Moving shot - ANITA and BERNARDO - Int. Hallway and Int. stairway to roof. BERNARDO is travelling fast as he goes up the stairs to the roof. ANITA has to hurry to catch up with him. [u]Even before she does so, they are exchanging words.[/u] ANITA: You know, she [u]has[/u] a mother, also a father... BERNARDO: (over his shoulder) They do not know this country any better than she does![/color] [color=red]52B[/color] is a code referring to the current scene and setting. You guys don't really have to be this specific, as something more common like "Act 2 Scene 4" will do fine too. In a movie, you would mention what the cameras do as well as what the actors do. [color=red]Moving shot[/color] here refers to the fact that the camera is following the actors around. But since the screenplay for "West Side story is fairly old, you would probably be more specific than just Moving shot, you would specify if it is moving ahead of or behind the actors, or if it is focusing on someone or something in particular. [color=red]Int. Hallway and Int. stairway to roof.[/color] refers to the setting. Int.=interior Ext.=exterior. If you are seeing this setting for the first time, it would do you well to give some detailed description of it, however, if you use the same setting more than once, you can refer to it more concisely, as shown above. Also to remember, the names of the characters are always entirely capitalized (usually), and any changes in tone of speech are made in these parentheses: (speech) as in [color=red](over his shoulder)[/color] and any additional directions or movements the characters make while they are talking are made in these parentheses: [ ]. Furthermore, remember that any additional information about the scene, i.e. what the characters are doing when the camera turns on, is placed at the top of the page, immediately below the information about scene, setting, and characters: [color=red]BERNARDO is travelling fast as he goes up the stairs to the roof...[/color] Finally, if there is anything that needs to be emphasized, stage directions, speech, camera movement or otherwise, it is [color=red][u]underlined.[/u][/color] Oh, and as a final note, this RPG is rated PG-LV because this takes place in a high school, there isn't much room for gory scenes and million-dollar special effects and explicit sexual content when you're only shooting a short film for a high school class. If this idea goes well, though, I might try it again in the future, only in a different situation and more room for all of the above. I hope this idea seems plausible to all you aspiring filmmakers/RPGers out there. If there is anything you would like to suggest, if this seems just a tad complicated, or maybe you guys would be willing to share some ideas early for improvement, or if there is something very erroneous about the style of scriptwriting cited above, please let me know. If you like it and I can count on your support for when the RPG actually begins, then you can let me know about that too. If this idea looks any good to people, I'll put an appropriate sign-up in Adventure Inn and we can use this Underground thread for further discussion (script creation, unusual ideas, suggestions on use of HTML code (see above) et cetera.) Thank you, and have fun, young actors.

"Say, Paul, you almost done over there?" "Yeah, sir, I'll be just another few minutes." The youth returned his attention to the video screen immediately in front of him, and reached over to hit the play button on the camcorder without looking at it. Eyes focussed and intense, Paul began to watch as reality unfolded before him, two other young boys drew their swords, actually glorified sticks with metal coloured paint, faced each other and prepared to do battle. Paul hit the pause button, and proceeded to write a few captions onto the screen, barely catching a glance at what he was typing. He took a glance back at the man sitting in the black cloth swivel chair behind him. "Sir, what made you decide to take up this job?" Paul asked, head craned over the back of the small metal chair, so that he was looking at his teacher upside down. "Well, I was an actor...in my younger days..." "No, no...I've heard the stories, they take up the class time, I'm doing this on my own time, so you could probably be a bit more specific." The figure in the swivel chair remained motionless, but proceeded to reply. "Well, no, you have to listen anyway. When you're young, you have something different to look out for, you can start gaining experience as an actor, through life and hard work." "Point taken, but I'd rather you answer the question." Paul replied, ejecting the videocassette and inserting a new one into the camcorder. More clips began to appear, and Paul proceeded to butcher them mercilessly, only stopping to redo his tie. The man in the chair kept talking. "You see, your life, as it is now, you don't know where it's gonna turn in a different direction. It could be a gradual change, since your life could change through a series of your own choices, or, of course, you could just wake up one morning, realize your life didn't turn out as you thought and try and take another path all at once." "So...which one were you, the gradual or the spontaneous?" Paul paused at his teacher's silence, and craned his head way over the top of the chair to look at the swivel chair again. The voice from behind replied: "...Spontaneous." Paul grinned slightly and returned his attention to the screen. The two gladiators continued their assault, and one of them barely clipped the arm of the other. The swivel chair continued. "Now, to answer your question, the spontaneous happened to me because I did something that I wasn't expecting, I was just an actor, but I one day awoke to find that it wasn't quite the job for me anymore, It was like I had changed my reality just by answering a simple question." "That you didn't want to be an actor anymore?" Paul asked, absently rewinding the camcorder. The teacher continued. "Yeah...I guess you could say that. Maybe it wasn't that I didn't want to do it, just that I had to find something...more. More than just playing a role, more than just being a character." "You found that you had to teach others to do it too?" "Not necessarily, just that there was something more for me in this weird world, that I needed some change of pace." "And this teaching job did that for you? I'm impressed by your sense of perception, sir." Paul replied, clicking on the mouse a few times to cut off a few more sections of the tape. "...What do you mean?" "That you could so truly believe that what you are saying is what you percieve, that this entire career that you have is based on the fact that you had the option of suddenly changing your life irreversibly. Almost like you believed that you could one day take a pill to make everything seem different." There was another awkward pause, and Paul continued. "Did you really believe that this is what you wanted to do, though, spontaneous change or no?" "If it wasn't for that spontaneous change, Paul, I might not even be here talking to you." "Ok, different question, are you happy with what you have, now?" Paul returned his attention temporarily to the screen, just to make another adjustment to the timing. His teacher appeared to be shifting in the swivel chair. "Sir?" "I'm not sure if I'm much happier than I would have been, I'm just different now." Paul shrugged and hit pause, craning his head back once more. "Well, I guess I can safely say that I wasn't expecting to get such an answer out of you, sir." Paul replied finally, the swivel chair shifted slightly. "How is that?" "Well, the spontaneity alone seemed to be a little out there, but I suppose that your perception becomes a little different when you grow older or experience such a change, maybe not always clearer, but always different." "You sound like you're ready for old age yourself, Paul." Paul laughed slightly and returned his attention to the screen once more. "I think I can safely worry about that after I pass this course and graduate, sir." "What about you, though?" "Excuse me, sir?" "Why do you like doing this? Taking my class, even coming here so much to work more often?" Paul paused the tape, and turned slightly in his chair. "...Perception, sir." "Perception?" "Yeah, I like doing this because it's something that I can do to make people think differently. You make films to change a person's perception. You act, because your actions are pased on a character's perception. You direct, because you want to alter reality and perception. Without perception, there's no point in existence, so why not live to change the perception of others?" Paul returned his attention to the computer screen, just as he began adding some more captions to his work. "Well, that's an interesting idea, Paul, but let me ask you one more question." "Ask away, sir." The swivel chair creaked behind him, and Paul heard his teacher's footsteps approach the computer, stopping just behind his chair. "If you were ever to change, Paul, if, like me, you were to awake one day and find that your life could take a different course, if, Paul, you could make a decision to change your sense of perception forever, would you prefer to keep your perception the way it was , or would you rather change your life...even if irreversibly?" Paul paused for a moment, then hit a few more keys on the screen and froze the tape. "Sir, I would have to go with change, because your perception is nothing if you can't accept change." Paul returned his eyes to the screen, and began replaying the tape. "Paul?" "Yes, sir?" "This was a test, Paul. And you passed." Paul craned his head behind the chair again to look behind him, when his teacher's larger hand came down and clasped Paul's face, holding his mouth open. Paul spluttered and shook in protest, but was so taken by surprise that he allowed his teacher to slide the tiny object into Paul's mouth, and then the teacher proceeeded to shove a full bottle of water into Paul's mouth. Coughing and spluttering, Paul tried to resist, but soon the little pill had disappeared down his esophagus, and, a matter of moments later, Paul had fallen unconcious, as the tape continued to flash images in front of his unfocused eyes... [i]"It was all an act, huh?" "I'm afraid so, and your life will never be the same." "Well, I can't exactly complain, as I did answer your question...that way." "You're sharp, you picked up on that already." "Well, wasn't that hard, and there are, excuse me, were always strange things about that...life." "Well, I hope you can forgive me, but it was my job." "I think I can accept that...just takes a bit of time." "Yeah, like my acting career shot down the drain." "You have a point, I guess." "I was wondering how long it would be before someone finally passed the test." "For what it's worth though, it was a truly rivetting performance."[/i]

...Wednesdays off? You must have gone to my school before, Solo. Anyway, I don't see the Mech Piloting/Quantum Mechanics course on the schedule, so does that mean that it's a course taken during free blocks? An after-school activity that students go to later? Since it seems that there wasn't anything special mentioned about the course, (not that I can remember anything, I mean) so I was wondering when it takes place, if not on the timetable. Furthermore, it seems like everyone is going on vacation. I'm in beautiful Portugal right now, so it's hard to get online, and, starting Wednesday, I won't be online at all for a week. Man, talk about bad timing.

[color=purple][i]... checking memory... ... please input pilot name/password... ... system booting.[/i] "So...just what kind of mech is it?" The two freshmen took a look at the massive purple unit sitting in the middle of the massive track field, it appeared inactive, and the two youths, also taking mech piloting courses, took a quizzical look at the mech, as it had an unusual feature: four legs instead of two. [i]...last report... deactivated at 04/08/04/0248 reactivation time 05/08/04/1347[/i] "Whatever, who cares just what it is?" The older student replied, pulling out a can of spray paint from a plastic bag he had been carrying. "Hey man, whoever owns this thing is gonna get mad, and, well, I mean..." "You're not getting chicken on me, are you? Just help me get this thing tagged, and we'll be outta here long before anyone even knows we were gone." [i]...weapons...online radar...online FCS tracking...online ...all functions...go[/i] "Besides, it's not even that big, who'se gonna hurt us in our mechs, huh?" The older youth turned back to his friend, who seemed to be at a loss for words, mouth agape. "Quit acting like you've seen a ghost, and we'll be outta here in no time." The youth turned around, and the mech that didn't seem so large, seemed to appear to have grown a lot larger, now that the freshman with the spray paint was facing down four five-foot barrels of left-handed shotgun. "Maybe hurting you inside your mech is a chore, but outside, is a different story." Uroboros replied smugly, aiming the shotgun at the tagger, his bazooka aimed at his poor partner. "Now, I suggest you get back to the reception hall, or would you prefer that I launch you there myself?" To press the point, Uroboros activated the grenade launcher, and both youths found themself facing a fiften-foot diameter barrel, and they immediately took the hint and decided to beat a hasty retreat. Uroboros, however, was not quite done yet, as he aimed a missile at an especially large mud puddle from the last month's rainstorm. The resulting explposion showered the two retreating youths in thick brown muck, and Uroboros looked over as they continued their retreat. "Stupid kids, waking me up so early in the.." Uroboros trailed off as Paradoxics displayed the current activation time: 05/08/04/[b]1347[/b] "...whoops, I guess I'd better hurry up, myself." Uroboros said, almost laughing aloud as he hit Overboost function, blasting off at speeds of over 600 MPH towards the school grounds, and the reception hall. Several students were almost thrown backwards by the enormous pressure blast generated by Paradoxics' entrance, others just glanced casually at the door, as though this was nothing unusual, which to them, wasn't. Uroboros' voice exited the mech. "...1347...sorry I'm late, all." Several of the students applauded their mech piloting teacher's stunning arrival, while others concentrated more on regaining their balance and trying to figure out what in the world had just happened. Uroboros looked around at the group, and immedately recognized those who would be taking his class in the future, since he had looked up their files earlier. "two...four...six...ten...twelve. Twelve newbies." Uroboros counted, an almost creepy smile cracking on the mech pilot's face. "I wonder how many of them'll break before the end of the year..."[/color]

"Ok, that should do it..." Kenneth muffled from underneath the 40' speaker, and came out, coughing lightly and brushing cobwebs from his jacket. Emilio was already hard at work reparing the broken PS2, and Prince Ribbon continued to watch the two of them, absolutely enthralled, when Candy and Daisy burst through Emilio's door and almost tripped over the little furniture Emilio had moved for the occasion. Daisy grinned at Ribbon slightly, teeth still stained red, and Ribbon took a step back. Emilio looked up from the PS2 for little more than a split second and told Daisy and Candy: "Maybe you should help him move the speaker." Emilio said, nodding in Kenneth's direction. Candy and Daisy looked at each other for a moment, then walked over to Kenneth, who was attemting to move the monstrous speaker by himself. A loud crack was heard somewhere down the hall, and a moment later, the First President and Protiva came in through the door, horse, saddle, and all. They seemed equally enthralled with the view of Emilio crouched over a half-assembled PS2 and the trio trying to budge the massive speaker. A few minutes later, with a very little bit of help from everyone else, managed to move the speaker away from the wall, only to see that there was no wall, the speaker was lodged in the opnening where the whole crew could see the street below. The speaker wasn't on the wall, the speaker [i]was[/i] the wall. An excruciating half-hour later, the entire group, minus Emilio and Simon, had managed to push the speaker out in the other direction, so it faced the street instead of the apartment. even Smarty Jones was tired. Washington, gasping under a heavy coat, remounted his steed with quite a bit of difficulty, and galloped off to find the aliens. Kenneth, between breaths, looked carefully at Emilio. "Ok...*gasp*, this whole time, you have...well...not so politely *gasp* failed to tell us exactly what we are doing. So *gasp* I would appreciate the explanation before I *gasp* perform any more of your slave labour." Emilio looked almost dissapointedly at the group as he flicked on the PS2, getting to his feet. "We're getting rid of an alien problem. If I can guess sometihng about aliens, they flee in terror from anything too high-pitched, which is why their spaceships are so low-frequency. If there is one thing that could drive all those aliens back to space, there is one song here that can do it." The rest of the group looked at each other, and Kenneth looked at Emilio, almost incredulous. "Do you really think that will work?" "Did anyone else have any better ideas?" Emilio asked, and the rest of the group looked at each other again, no replies. Emilio looked at the screen of ihs TV. "Oh, and I'm going to need one person to dance with me, it works better if there are two." "I'll do it!" Ribbon exclaimed, stepping onto the pad, pants billowing around him. He looked at Emilio, andh is face turned redder than ever. "For the one....who will be my wife!" Emilio cocked an eyebrow at Ribbon, who had gotten down on one knee. "Getting a little ahead of yourself there, show me how well you can dance, first." Ribbon leapt to his feet and looked at the screen, the song was starting. Kenneth turned the massive speaker on, and, miraculously, no sound came out. Emilio motioned to the TV, and the sound seemed to be coming out of there. "The speaker soundproofs itself, we can't hear it, but the street can." Emilio looked at the title of the song on screen... [url=http://www.ddrfreak.com/stepcharts/stepchart.php?song=civilization&mode=Single&difficulty=Maniac&code=Normal&Submit=Submit]Orion.78 (Civilization Mix){Heavy Mode}[/url] Guzheng strings flooded out from the TV speakers, and a small, almost imperceptible chant began from a young voice on the speakers. Suddenly, the sound seemed to explode with a hard kick and quite a few people jumped back. The chanting began to grow louder and louder as Ribbon and Emilio continued to dance to Orion.78. Kenneth looked fearfully at the massive speaker facing the street. [i]If the sound is this loud here,[/i] he thought [i]it must be breaking windows out there.[/i] Within a few moments, the noise from the TV was so loud that even the tenants were covering their ears, and Emilio and Ribbon continued through the chaos, dancing as the arrows floated up the screen like psychedelic locusts, setting an almost unimaginable pace. The song appeared to be building towards a climax, and the chanting was getting higher and higher. Daisy even fainted from the pure noise, and Kenneth had flattened himself in a corner, afraid to move. By the time the song was over, everyone was at the door, rushing for the hall window to see what was going on. The first thing they noticed was that the old building opposite Emilio's apartment had been, literally, reduced to the sand it was built from. As the tenants looked around, they could see that almost every window had been shattered for blocks down the road. Finally, they could see the aliens scrambling madly for their spaceships, as their heads appeared to be inflating. A few of them exploded before they could reach safety, and as the last few made it on board, the tenants could see Kase's head jammedinside one of the spaceship doors, as it blasted off into slace, leaving the emu-alien dangling like a hood ornament. One by one, the tenants returned to their respective apartments, ready to get some sleep at last. ... Later that evening, Ribbon had decided to slip out on his own, having been on the run for so long. He made it down to the street when, from behind, a fuzzy pink slipper collided with the back of his head, and he turned to face Emilio, dressed in a fluffy pink nightgown complete with slippers, only his right foot was bare. Ribbon turned redder than ever as Emilio walked up to him, eyes aflame with an unfamilliar enthusiasm. Emilio looked up at the taller Ribbon, and answered: "Maybe in a few years." and kissed him. Ribbon's face looked like it was going to explode, since he had never experienced something like this before. every synapse in his body appeared to be tingling, and even his back felt strange and scratchy, as though someone had been rubbing it. Emilio let go, and returned, nonchalant as usual, to the apartment. Ribbon turned to leave, and Emilio stopped to admire his/her handiwork which he/she had drawn on Ribbon's back during the liplock. Emilio Apartment 2A Apartment Building C U.S.A. Planet Earth

The dry desert air, tearing almost soundlessly across the barren landscape, marked a signal that something major was coming, something major and beyond anything that could ever happen in the sleepy little western hamlet. The people parading the streets seemed to vanish all at once when the young cowgirl exited, very sullen looking, from the tiny saloon, being followed almost immediately by the much larger blond-haired Johnny. The two of them looked around, as though expecting some kind of a sign, some signal or starting point, when suddenly a long, single strumming note echoed through the area, and a hoarse voice called from one of the alleyways: "Hey! Blondie!" Johnny turned around, expecting the remark to have been aimed at him, and saw two men sitting down in the alleyway, one looked quite drunk, as he was holding a large bottle of booze in the one hand, and what appeared to be a large horn in the other. The other was a younger boy, but his facial features seemed to be hidden, as he was donning a sombrero and wearing a large orange-knit poncho. The old man whistled loudly at the cowgirl, evidently the one who had made the remark, and the young one nodded and strummed another long note on the acoustic guitar he had been holding, and the old man proceeded to play the horn, as thee two awesome fighters faced each other, eye to eye, several feet from each other. The two of them quickly pulled their hip holsters to their sides, and readied their six-shooters, each ready to go at the drop of a hat. Squaring off, the two fighters stepped backwards a few paces, and eyed each other warily. Johnny cocked a quick eye to his comrade in the poncho, and the cowgirl did the same towards her aged cohort. Almost immediately, the two of them returned to each other's attention, attempting to scare the other into a slow draw. Their two cohorts continued to wail away on the sidelines, as the tension from their song appeared to be building to a fever pitch. The two wary combatants both moved their hands steadily to their sides, and proceeded to wait there while the music rang on. Abruptly, the two musicians cut off their song, and the two fighters drew their six-shooters with lightning dexterity. Almost miraculously, the two combatants' bullets collided in midair, and both flew in their own paths. One of them shattered the bottle of alcohol the man was carrying, but no one saw where the other one went. Almost immediately afterwards, a man began to sway drunkenly out of the saloon, where he collapsed in the street, a gunshot wound in his chest. The two combatants turned to face each other again, and, in an almost otherworldly twist, the youth abruptly tore his sombrero off and smashed the old man in the face with his guitar, when all movement stopped abruptly. [b]The Good[/b] caption appeared in bright yellow cursive under a very calm and ever-sexy Johnny's face, as he began to move towards the two who were now fighting. [b]The Bad[/b] caption appeared below Adrienne, who smirked almost evilly at the two who were fighting. [b]The Ugly[/b] caption appeared under the old man, Yu-Kan, who was now reeling, or was in the process of reeling from the shock of having taken a guitar in the face. [b]and The Korean[/b] caption appeared underneath the now sombrero-less youth, Tae-Won, who was preparing to take another swing with the guitar. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------- "...Cut! That was great, people! It?s a wrap!" Ellie's voice boomed throughout the set, as Tae-Won released the tension he was creating for the next blow with the guitar. Yu-Kan began to get slowly to his feet, with a very little bit of help from Tae-Won, and Adrienne and Johnny both removed their cowboy hats. Several stagehands began to move like caged mice along the confines of the lot, and the bloody stunt man got up and was handed a bottle of [i]Dasani[/i] by one of the stage crew. "Phew, that was kind of fun." Tae-Won proclaimed, removing the massive poncho to reveal a sweat-soaked undershirt. Johnny recoiled slightly from the stench, before asking. "Hey, was that guitar thing even in the script?" Before Tae-Won could answer, not that he really intended to, Ellie's officious voice roared across the set. "OK! Johnny! Yu-Kan! Adrienne! Tae-Won! We need you to move over to Lot 39, where you'll be working on [b]the parody of the 6 o?clock news![/b]" "That wasn't really in my contract..." Tae-Won began to protest, but Ellie began hollering in to her megaphone with such harsh intensity that it began giving off feedback. "This is Mandalay Studios! You signed our contract, we own you now! Get your butts over to the Lot 39!" Tae-Won removed his cowboy boots and proceeded to walk to the next studio, albeit limping slightly from the tension of wearing those uncomfortable boots. "How did those cowboys [i]walk[/i] in those?" Tae-Won muttered to himself while the rest of the group marched ahead to the lot.

[i]A dark hallway, illuminated only by the sole light of a few overhead lamps, and the occasional patrolling factory-produced mecha, clanging loudly on the iron-grate floor. One such mecha coninued its trek down the foreboding passageway, when something began to occur to its pilot. Before he had a chance to react, the brittle iron-grate floor exploded from beneath him, and by the time he began to put the ideas back together, the cockpit of his mech was facing the barrel of a massive shotgun. Within seconds, the rest of the factory mech were on the alert, and the intruder, a large quadrupedial unit, exploded from underneath the floor, and immediately unleashed a hail of missiles in all directions around it. A few mech managed to dance just out of the way, but a few others were hit sqarely in their cockpits, rendering them immobile. One of the mech below began firing with the factory-loaded rifles, and the rest began to follow suit, but the enemy quad hit the boost and began floating in the air, continuing to rain missiles below. A few more mech were hit, and one of them just barely began to edge it's way out of the missile's path when the quadruped fired a rocket grenade, and obliterated the entire lower body of the mech unit. The quadruped landed on the floor next to one of the assault mechs, and the two units turned to face each other quick-draw fashion. The quad was faster, and obliterated the factory mech's arm with a shotgun blast. The mech tried to dash forward and his with a blade, but the quad simply jumped over it and turned around to fire a bazooka shell into the mech's back, The rest of the mechs turned to acknowledge the presence of the quad, when it burst forward with such force that the iron grating was rattled all the way down the hall. The quad began firing round after round of bazooka shots into the mechs as it passed, obliterating their power sources, or their weapons, in an intimitable display of fly-by shooting. By the time the mech stopped, all the others were still smouldering, crackling the occasional spark, or lying on the floor, completely obliterated. The single quad turned around, and spoke:[/i] [color=indigo]"Guys, that was terrible." All of the other mechs returned to their upright positions, some quickly, they were not any worse for the wear despite being hit with powerful shots, and some slowly, as they were suffering severe damage. Some of them didn't get up, but their pilots spoke from the floor. "Yeah? What was so bad about it?" A certain cocky youth asked the quad, and his mech recieved a small shotgun blast. "Shut up and let me tell you. Firstly, you should have anticipated that I could have come from under the floor, as it is weak and could have been destroyed with a grenade round, which anyone experienced in observing the operations theater should have noticed. Secondly, your accuracy was way off, it would have been easy to predict that I would not have landed on the floor immediately after emerging, as I would have been surrounded by you all, so you could have afforded to set your weapons at a higher angle earlier. Your average accuracy was 18%, which, despite having those factory-loaded rifles, should have been higher since this quad is not built for aerial manuverability. Thirdly, you could have evaded my shots a lot more easily than you did. The missiles I use have a very low-action threshold, so they should have been easier to dodge than that, and when I hit the overboost, my accuracy reticle drops by nearly 50%, and that means that moving only a few feet would have resulted in a miss. If you guys were paying attention, I shouldn't have been able to hit more than three or four of you." The quad looked over at the mech that was lying on its front, which he had hit after landing. "Oh, but you had the right idea, trying to attack like that, only you could have taken a step back to avoid the shotgun, and the blade would have done more damage right off, especially since I would have had to aim at your other arm, and that would have taken longer." The quad unit paused for a moment, the continued: "My remaning armour rating is still at over 7800, you cannot pass this test until you can make it drop below 6000. That's still a long way off, worth over 50 rifle bullets, or, if you have the guts, 8 blade strikes." The rest of the mech pilots said nothing at this. "Ok, well, I guess that's enough for today, your only homework is to keep practicing the basics of movement, and, if you're lucky, we'll have a paper test on the theory of missile trajectory against its action threshold. If you're unlucky, well, I guess we'll be having this test again." The quad looked around the room. "Oh, and I'll know for sure if you've been practicing. If you haven't, you'll be paying the repairs to those mech units. Class dismissed."[/color] Name: Known as "Uroboros"/Mech is "Paradoxics" Anime Stereotype: Mecha Pilot w/ Mech Age: 36 Gender: The voice that comes out of the mech is male, so we assume male. Year: Staff (Faculty Member) Appearance: No one has ever seen the pilot, but the image of "Paradoxics" is attached. The Mech is seen from the right, back then left, and the image on the far right is the symbol that is painted on the mech's left arm. Alignment: This is based on who pays him the most. Teaches: Mecha Combat w/ Quantum Mechanics Accomodation: Lives inside "Paradoxics" Bio: "Uroboros" was once known as a famous pilot, no, not famous, more famous than famous, he was...infamous. He was known as the best pilot in the world, the world being Mars. As it would turn out, the problem of overpopulation became such a problem, that in the 90's, the US Government decided to send a group of the world's finest scientists and military personnel on a mission to Mars, to see if the planet had become hospitable. (In reality, this mission was just a way to get rid of them, since they seemed kind of annoying, but that's beside the point.) The planet proved to be surprisingly livable their first time out. Some of the scientists saw it as a miracle, to everyone else, it was a "fixer-upper". In any case, the minds of the scientists were soon put to work as they began to order everyone else around to build shelter from the raw material that was assigned to them. This annoyed the military folk, and they built the shelter, but would not let the scientists in. After a few freezing, then sweltering days and nights without much food or water, the military folk emerged, only to find that in their abscence, the scientists had built a fully-functional cityscape from scratch, and were now hard at work constructing technologies far beyond those that were still on Earth, now that they had all the free space and resources they needed, as well as a lack of law enforcement or social regulations or stigma. The mad scientists then began to watch some TV, which, for mad scientists, was always a recipe for disaster, and decided to try and emulate some of the things that they had already seen on repeats of Gundam Wing. (They had managed to watch the TV by stealing some of the satellite signals back on Earth, which is child's play for any mad scientist, right? Right.) After failing to create something mechanica; that could sprout angelic wings at any given provocation, the scientists were first discouraged, but then decided to try starting a little smaller by creating parts that could act as extentions of the human body, exoskeletons. Using the military as guinea pigs, they eventually managed to create something that could function as a human extention, and could use that to send signals elsewhere... ...Which brings us to "Paradoxics". Using this exoskeleton, the scientists found that they could create a unit not meant to house a human body, but to recieve singals sent by the exoskeleton and reply in movements made by the human body. The exoskeleton became a remote controller for these mechs, and the scientists soon found that it was a relatively small step towards compressing some of the space that they had used for engine and radiator power, and made a unit that could house the human body, and the exoskeleton used to control the mech could be placed inside a long with the human host, as opposed to using handheld controls, which, let's face it, is just silly. Paradoxics, being quadrupedial, was considered an experimental verson of the mech unit, since the human is bipedial, and the unit is quadrupedial. By alternating the legs based on the signals from the exoskeleton, it was an easy task to program the quad legs to react as the human legs moved. The pilot placed inside, Uroboros, was asked to return to Earth to see how things were doing there. He agreed, and was jettisoned off in another rocketship the scientists had built in their spare time from building the mech. (In case you are wondering why Uroboros is being called the best pilot on Mars, he was...well...the only pilot on Mars, so there.) When a large mecha unit drops from the sky into a populated area, people get disturbed, and when the people get disturbed, the law enforcement personnel get disturbed, and when they get disturbed, it's time for Uroboros to beat a hasty retreat. Doing so, Uroboros found that he had landed in Japan, which was kind of weird considering that the scientists told him he was supposed to land...well...they actually never told him where he would be landing, leading him to believe they just wanted to get rid of him, but that's beside the point. After walking for a few more steps, since the large quadrupedial could walk at nearly 200 MPH, Uroboros found the Tokyo Academy for Unusual Students, and, it being in the process of being built, Uroboros, having been depraved of all foreign contact, decided to lend a hand. The engineers behind the project were actually surprisingly well-versed in the unique art of building massive mech units, and decided to help finish off the building of Paradoxics, adding a few guns and a sleek new purple paint job, since it looked oh-so cool. Uroboros, learning of the type of studens that were expected to attend the academy, decided to lend a hand, and became the first real teacher of Mecha Combat w/ Quantum Mechanics, and quickly became legendary for his take-no-crap attitude, his expertise in the field of the mech combat, and his belief that any offence in his classroom is punishable by the obliteration of the offender's mech unit, with all liabilities and bills sent right to the student in question. Uroboros has had a bit of a rivalry with the P.E. Teacher, Master Ooguchi, since there has been a long running argument between the students of the school, and even a few of the staff, that Uroboros could take Master Ooguchi at mech combat. Ooguchi wouldn't hear of it, and whenever the issue is brought up, he immediately rants on and on about why Uroboros could never beat him, and Uroboros doesn't really care about the issue either, and replies by blowing up the student's mech for talking in class. Uroboros, right now, sees himself as the professional soldier, and sees money and fame as the answer to all his problems. He has never been seen exiting the cockpit of Paradoxics even once, and none of his students, or the even the staff, have seen his face. Outside of class, students can and will pay him to perform tasks for them, and Uroboros will even do things outside of normal school regulations, provided that his client can pay him more than the school does. Special Powers/Abilities: Paradoxics is equipped with some of the best high-end weaponry to date, including a high-speed bazooka in the right hand, a four-barrel shotgun in the left, and a large grenade lancher and smaller missile launcher attached to the back. Paradoxics can also fly and float in the air for as long as the internal power source will allow, and when "overboost" is engaged, the mech flies forward at speeds of over 600 MPH and cannot be stopped until its internal power is cut. Sworn Enemy: Whoever he is paid to hate while on the job (usually the students), and he just dislikes Master Ooguchi in his spare time.

During the course of these chaotic few events, few people had realized that Emilio was, in fact, not even in the apartment at the time. Instead, he/she was enteraining a crowd of wild fans at the local arcade/disco/nightclub, where he/she was dancing up a storm amid a sea of blue and pink neon on the large stage for DDR freestylers. Dressed in a midnight blue jacket with bright silver sequins, a pair of purple velvet sweatpants, and dark black platform shoes, Emilio was the hit of the night, what seemed especially strange was that all of his/her crowd appeared to be dressed in equally ambiguous clothing, and therefore, nobody could really identify the gender of anyone in the crowd. Emilio, after finishing a spectacular freestyle of [URL=http://www.ddrfreak.com/stepcharts/stepchart.php?song=dynamiterave_downbird&mode=Single&difficulty=Maniac&code=Normal&Submit=Submit]'Dynamite Rave -Down Bird SOTA Mix-(Heavy)'[/URL], in which he/she hit the remaining notes on a handstand, turned around to gracefully accept the roar of the throng who had turned up to watch. The ever-ambiguousEmilio produced a bright white duffle bag from his/her pants, and his/her equally ambiguous crowd began to stuff it with quarters. Evidently, all DDR fans believed that only arcade-machine-quality quarters were the only currency that mattered in the slightest. "Do 'Sana Morrette ne Ente!'" a fan donning a bright curly orange wig shrieked with glee from the front row, and Emilio accepted the fan's quarter, preparing to oblige, but then Emilio noticed some commotion from the back alley, near where the apartment building was located, and decided that it would be best to make sure his/her home was not being investigated by the police, since he/she was very sure they would find something of illegal nature in his/her apartment. Defying the ground-rumbling roar of the crowd, Emilio stepped gracefully off the stage, and accepted a few more quarters before removing the platform shoes and running off towards the apartment in his/her bare feet. Anarchy reigned supreme inside the apartment complex, as Emilio entered, only to part to admit a hysterically screaming Protiva, and what appeared to be an emu following close behind. Simon was rushing up and down the stairs, seemingly more agitated than usual, and Candy appeared to be cheering the entire goings on gleefully. Emilio looked over at her, and she screamed at him/her in return. "It's like a race! Isn't it great?!" Emilio poltely avoided answering, and watched as Charlie limped by, screaming some profanities as the rest of the panicking crew began to outlap him around the building. Emilio walked for the stairwell door, when it burst open from the inside and smacked Emilio in the head, Emilio fell limp to the ground, and the alien prince rushed by from the stairwell. Prince Ribbon stopped and stared down at the unconcious Emilio, and Kenneth rammed into the prince from behind. Kenneth carned his head over the prince's shoulder, who knelt down to get a closer look at Emilio. Kenneth stared at him. "What's the matter?" The prince appeared to be beyond words, a sweatdrop ran down his forehead, as he stared down at an unconcious Emilio. "She is the most beautiful being I have ever seen." Daisy screamed and began clapping ever harder. "Wow! You're going to have a girlfrien...uh...a boy...uh..." Kenneth stared down at Ribbon and began: "Um...well, Emilio's actually...uh..." Ribbon looked up at Kenneth, eyes filled with tears, asking: "Is something the matter?" In a flash, Kenneth realized that there was nothing left to explain, an alien man-like person paired up with the equally female-like Emilio was almost a match too perfect for reality. Kenneth backed off, leaving Ribbon to admire Emilio in all his/her unconciousness. "I must ask her to be my bride!" Ribbon exclaimed feverishly, sweating even more profusely at the mere sight of Emilio, who, before his eyes, proceeded to return to an upright position almost fluidly, and then walk right by him as though he didn't exist. "Are the police here?" Emilio asked Kenneth, who seemed sweaty as well, from the ordeal in progress, as well as all the running. "Um...no, but there are aliens here, and...they might kidnap us all..." Emilio cocked an eyebrow at Kenneth, and Ribbon seemed too nervous to speak. Emilio continued. "So...maybe we should try and find some way of getting them to go?" "Probably a good idea...since I don't really want to be scarred emotionally for the rest of my existence." Kenneth replied. Ribbon began sweating even more, to the point that a puddle was materializing on the floor. "I might have an idea, but I'm going to need your help." Emilio said, leading Kenneth up to his/her apartment. Kenneth followed closely. "Ok, what am I going to have to do?" "I'll explain when you see it." Ribbon, still sweating profusely, followed the two of them upstairs. Daisy wandered off again, having lost interest since there was no more running, and Protiva, Kase, Simon and Charlie continued to chase each other, long having forgotten who was after whom...

[color=orange]Name: Wondershot Magic-Type: Earth Type: Incognito Apperance: see attachment Abilities: VIVA*ROCK: Flip a coin, if heads, all cards with HP higher than Wondershot's cannot attack for one turn. If tails, all cards with HP lower than Wondershot's cannot attack for one turn. In either case, Wondershot cannot attack for one turn either. Orange Juice: One allied card, chosen by the opponent, and one opposing card, chosen by you, both recover their HP completely, but have their attack powers both reduced to 0 for one turn. Negate any Ability card effects attached to Wondershot when this ability is used. Colour: Green[/color]

Why not, this looked cool the last time. [color=orange]Name: Tae-Won Hwang Age: 18 Background: A Korean youth interested in a career in rock music, Tae-Won was kicked out of his house at age 12 because he had learned how to play the electric guitar...and was giving his parents conniptions with the noise...not even counting the damage to the structure of his house thanks to the explosive bass...and the windows that shattered thanks to his multiple 30-minute chord solos...and that he himself began bleeding from the ears at age 10...but that's not the point, it just annoyed his folks, so he got the ax. Tae-Won decided to do a little travelling by stowing away on a boat for a few months, but was eventually caught and thrown overboard by the furious sailors. It was then that Tae-Won learned that when stowing away, it is best to keep a low profile, rather than continue playing your guitar...at night while everyone was asleep...and then unintentionally causing a minor engine fault that grows into a major engine fault given time and sound waves that cause the said ship to sink moments after Tae-Won was thrown off...but that's not the point. He was thrown off, and had to swim himself, his: [url=http://www.ibanez.co.jp/world/country/frame_korea.html][img]http://www.ibanez.co.jp/world/products/eg/pict/RG450LTDDAB-00-05.jpg[/img] Limited Edition Ibanez RG450 Electric Guitar (Dark Adriatic Blue) [img]http://www.ibanez.co.jp/world/products/amp/pict/tb50r.gif[/img] and Tone Blaster 50R Series amplifier...[/url] ...all the way to Japan, where he decided to join a local garage band. Tae won also has the strangest obsession with orange juice, whenever and wherever he sees orange juice, he buys it/drinks it on the spot, it's his greatest weakness. Description: see attached picture, he usually wears a bright orange collared shirt over that striped vest, and even brighter orange cargo pants and sneakers. They say he blinds people with his orange obsession everywhere he goes. Fighting style: When in doubt, swings his RG450 around like a maniac, when disarmed, he is familiar with a little Tae-Kwon Do, and has pretty good balance, so can usually recover from even the most adverse position and recover his precious guitar.[/color] Edit: Damn, the banner died from exceeding bandwidth, I'll just attach the picture here.

I thought I'd tap into one of my history books for this one... Name: Julien (French pronounciation of Julian) Payette Gender: Male Age: 27 Biography: A not-so young étudiante from Canada, Julien grew up under a shade of darkness during the Duplessis régime in the Canadian fifties. Having understood the impact World War II had on the world, everyone believed that the Quebec Provincial Minister, Maurice Duplessis, had the right of way in his methods, that society should make its own descisions, and that assistance from the government was not necessary. Duplessis' words had proven to be a double-edged sword, as he soon used his power in office to make poor choices, including the underfunding of the education, health, and arts in [i]La belle province[/i], as well as using his power to sell contracts to large companies in exchange for votes from their employees and clients. Due to this time of darkness, Julien was unable to earn himself a proper post-secondary education in his twenties, due to the outrageous prices of college and university under Duplessis. However, in 1959, Duplessis died, supposedly of heart disease, and the newly-elected minister, Monsieur Jean Lesage, began what was known as the "révolution tranquille": "The Quiet Revolution", and made the exact opposite descisions as Duplessis, funding the colleges and universities around the province, and providing a plausible post-secondary education system, which provided affordable college-level education to the people. There was one small problem, Julien was originally born in Ontario, and was left with foster parents in Quebec when he was 12 due to his biological parents' substance abuse problems. His foster family believed he was already too old to begin speaking fluent French, and could never enroll him in a proper course of education for the language. Therefore, he could not be accepted into a "cegep" (College d'enseignement general et professionel) due to his inability to speak fluent French. However, his foster father was a veteran of World War II, where he worked as a field medic, and decided that it would be useful to teach Julien some simple medicine. Julien, for only a few years after Duplessis' death, learned some older techniques from his father, before, at the reccomendation of the "cegep" office, he left to study further in America. The cost of living, at the time, was still very high in Canada, and the unemployment rate was still rather large for a still-developing country, so Julien, like many other Quebecois before him, Julien left for the U.S.A. He carried with him some medical journals of his father, which he intently studied while riding on the train to the U.S. Upon his arrival in Key City, Julien decided immediately to spend some time searching for a suitable college, when, much to his pleasant surprise, he learned that Key City was also home to an excellent quality medical school, but required quite a bit more post-secondary training than Julien had already acquired from his father. Not one to give up, he decided to rent out a room in a house not far from the school, and, not a few months later, found a city college that would accept him and give him the proper credit required for the medical school. Now, Julien has finally begun to chase his dream, as his college education has served ihm well, as he now goes to the Key City Medical University, when he studies intently to become a heart surgeon, and save lives as his forster father once did. Never one to forget their kindness, Julien writes his foster family on a regular basis, and practices his French everyday, even opting to continue using the French version of his name. Continuing his journey, one step at a time. Personality: Julien, having lived his earliest years with drug addict parents, never likes to obsess about the past, and sees every mistake he makes as an opportunity to improve and make himself better. He never forgets what he does wrong, and always remembers the faces of those few who are good to him, always repaying favors and keeping good correspondence. Julien, however, is never really the most cheerful person, and some say that he is even difficult to talk to, but underneath a very serious and dire exterior lies a very warm and friendly person who would always to whatever he could to help those in need, even total strangers. Julien is very serious about his work in med school, and everyday, studies and studies to exhaustion, so he usually does not go out very much or try to fraternize with others. He also shows a minor interest in the study of foreign languages and culture, especially Quebec, and loves recieving the occasional newspapers from Quebec, courtesy of his foster family. Julien is, for the most part, a very focused individual, but when he has nothing important to do, his mind usually wanders as he tries to recall the memories of his biological parents and his family in Quebec, and people usually say that once his mind begins to wander, it usually has a habit of staying gone until someone rouses him. Profession: Student at med school in Key City. Studying to be a heart surgeon. Description: Julien is somewhat on the tall side, standing at about 6' and as a very thin body. Julien has mid-length brown hair, which he usually combs back and cuts frequently for it to be as uniform as possible; "to look professional" says Julien. He also has a pair of pince-nez reading glasses which he carries in a case in his back pocket, but his eyesight is fairly good otherwise so he only needs them while studying or reading fine text. Julien's face is rather thin and chiseled, and seems to have the perfect long nose for his pince-nez glasses. Julien usually wars a white collared shirt and a black tie that was given to him by his foster father. On cooler days, he wears a dark beige vest, or a larger sweater of the same colour, and carries a black umbrella for when it rains. Julien also wears dark black curduroy or pleated pants and always the same pair of dark leather dress shoes, which he shines himself on a regular basis. Julien is sometimes seen carrying a notepad with some medical research, or, more commonly, an outdated medical journal or Quebec newspaper from his father. Please excuse the introductory history lesson, I thought it might help explain Julien's situation.

Ok, after some deliberation, here I am. [color=brown][i]Far below the strangely overcast sky, many go about their lives, some will notice the clouds and expect rain, and people make strange assumptions about the nature of the rain, that the gods may give it to those who seek its need, or to others, who deserve its wrath. To others still, it is merely a scientific or mystic cycle, that the rain can come and go of its own accord. However, only few people know the true nature of this rain. It will follow those who spill blood.[/i] On one of the kingdom highways, a few men travelling with their cargo of strong alcohol, decide to stop for a few minutes and rest on the road, where, rather unwittingly, they decided to tap into their stores of powerful spirits and loosen their nerves for the rest of the trip. Even more unwittingly, what was once just a short round of drinks as a minor indulgence has now become more of a test of the men's livers, as they continue to chug down their precious cargo at a very fast pace, laughing and being slightly off-couloured and toned in their speech, and becoming more and more inebriated all the while. One man, who seemed to be in the strongest drunken stupor of them all, noticed a large man and a small child walking down the highway just behind them, and, mistaking the child for someone older, immidiately looked over and jumped in the way of the travelling duo. "Oi! woud you like sh-omething to drink th-en? Or maybe a dan-sh?" The man asked to the small child, who turned out to be a girl. The taller man looked down at the drunk. The girl tried to retreat, behind the man's large hide cloak, but the drunk grabbed her and held her up for the wagon caravan to see. "Ei! Would anyone want a dan-sh with the littl' lady ere? She..." The man could not finish his sentence, as, not a moment later, his horrified caravan group watched as the tall cloaked man unsheathed a strange weapon, and removed the drunk's head with a lighting-quick stroke. The cloaked man caughed the young girl in his arms as the now headless corpse released its grip, and the man began to get started on the rest of the group. Cry after horrified cry filled the air, as the young girl watched her cohort slice each of the other men's heads off, and they could only scream so long as their heads were still attached to their bodies. Mercilessly, the cloaked man decapitated the last one, who was then on his knees, begging for his life. The stream of blood caught the young girl in the face, and she made no move to remove the blood from her cheek. The taller cloaked man knelt down and looked at her, wiping the blood of with his sleeve. He sheathed the weapon, clean as though it had never been used, and returned to his feet, leading her down the highway as though nothing had happened. Within moments, the rain began to fall, clearing the blood from the highway...[/color] Name: Cross Auren Age: 21 Sex: Male Kingdom: Ecapee from Elys Role in Kingdom: Underworld Assasin Description: A rather tall man, standing at 6'1" and wearing a massive bearhide cloak with large sleeves that cover his hands, the only unusual mark being that the cloak has been cut open at the right leg, this is to allow Cross' legs to move more easily, and to unsheath the weapon attached to his boot. Cross has dark brown hair tied back into a ponytail that reaches down to about stomach level, and has bright green eyes, one of which remains permanently closed due to a huge cut in an X shape over it. He also wears heavy boots which are unusually silent, but extremely durable for walking, and wears no armor whatsoever under the cloak, only a light shirt and pants woven with cotton and fine threads of ductile iron for durability. Weapon: A strangely shaped blade known to those who have heard of it as "Rainmaker", it is in fact not a conventional sword, but two long double-edged blades in a 135 degree joint with a 2 inch ring joining the two blades together. Essentially an iron boomerang that can only be held by the ring in the center, as the rest is sharp. The weapon is attached to Cross' boot, and although it looks thin and fragile, it can be swung and spun with only two fingers very easily, and is designed to strike unaware targets very quickly. A fine cut can remove a person's head before he even notices its sting, and the weapon has been dubbed "Rainmaker" due to an odd superstition that it always rains after it has been used to kill. Background: Cross grew up into a very poor family, who could barely find the money to feed him, and he was forced into tough labour in construction and engineering. However, whis practice gave Cross some surprising agility, and he could outrun anyone his age, and then even others much older than him. Furthermore, he had a very tough but flexible frame that allowed him to perform feats of speed with a phenomenal performance, and it was soon after that some people in the upper classes caught wind of Cross' uncanny quickness. He was offered a chance to enlist in the army at a young age, as the people suspected that cross would become slower in his older age, and he gladly accepted in his adolescent years. Earning himself a name, he was able to finally prove to his family that they would be able to have someone honourable in the family. Surprisingly, Cross was very poor at some of the arts of the soldier's trade, and had difficulty handling a blade, as well as combatting in full armour. When asked what was happening, Cross explained that he found it difficult to move in all that armour, and using a blade of such width and size was a greater chore to him than it would have appeared. The captain of the guard found this strange, but thought that there must have been some way to harness all that speed that he was capable of while still making hin an effective combatant. Indeed there was. Cross was taken to see the royal blacksmith, who measured the boy up for a rather different set of armour, simply a cotton shirt, with extremely fine iron woven in with the normal threads. Although this "armour" did not provide much protection, Cross could now move far, far more easily and effectively defeat each of his challenges with phenomenal results. Even so, he still complained of the difficulty of using such a heavy sword, to which the clever blacksmith replied: "Ah, but I have developed something new for our young recruit." Cross was given his prize, a strange single blade with no hilt, but a large iron ring to hold it by. Cross was surprised at the weapon's lightness, and the man who delivered it warned Cross: "He said that it probably wouldn't survive contact with a stronger steel, so be careful." Taking the blacksmith's words to heart, Cross eventually trained himself differently, and learned to use the blade differently, striking for unarmoured or thinly armoured points on the body, namely the neck, wrists, and other joints as well. Some of the other soldiers eventually learned of Cross' secret programme, and the captain of the guard informed Cross that his new training regime was miking him far too dangerous for the rest of the army, as it was hazardrous and could result in far too much bloodshed, and Cross was therefore stripped of his status as a soldier, and expelled from the military. A week later, the blacksmith who made his weapons and armour was executed for supposedly plotting a revolution. Cross left the kingdom, dressed in a special cloak that once belonged to an ancestor of his, apparently a hunter during a more primitive time when hunting for food was a very different affair. Cross was about to leave the city's gates under the cover of darkness when he felt a small tugging at his cloak. Right below him was a small girl dressed unusually similar to Cross himself. "My daddy said that if anything happened to him, to go with you." In a flash, Cross understood who the girl was, the daughter of the deceased blacksmith, and took the girl with him. As he helped her climb over the gates, he imagined that he wound never let anyone touch this child, lest the memory of a man who was once his friend be corroded forever. Upon their leaving, the girl returned the armor to cross, and the weapon, which had been fitted with another blade, supposedly for another recruit. Today, Cross wanders the world with the blacksmith's daughter, never asking her name, and never speaking a word otherwise. In his fervor to protect the child, he has slaughtered anyone whom he thought to be a threat to the girl, and continues to do so in his deceased friend's name. The girl seems strangely unperturbed by this, and has now felt the killing has become a way of life for her. Cross, in order to fund their journey, sells himself as an assassin, and uses the money only for food and possibly some form of shelter for a night. The rest of the time, Cross seems lost in the world, and looks all around the world for some answer, some form of peace, within this world that was so cruel to him. And still, the rain follows the trail of blood he leaves behind.

"Hey, I think they're finally retreating!" Kenneth proclaimed with some relief, as he noticed that the cats appaered to be going on the offensive as the foaming squirrels commenced their retreat, now that the head of the invasion had been fully digested at last. Everyone sighed with relief, and, almost in comical unison, brushed their foreheads with their hands and dusted their sleeves of randomly coloured fur. Kenneth looked around the group, noticing that someone was missing. "Has anyone seen Emilio?" Kenneth asked of the group, noticing that their blue-haired friend had gone missing during the big battle. Protiva gasped and looked around. "Oh! You mean that guy...who looked like that girl...who looked like that guy...who..." "Enough!" Kenneth exclaimed, realizing that this could go on and on longer than anyone would have cared to pay attention. "Did you see him..uh..her....uh...Emilio?" Protiva blinked once, then replied: "Oh, no." Kenneth sighed and let the axe fall, and he accidentally decapitated a squirrel that was lying on the floor, dead. He looked at Simon, who seemed to be trying to restrain himself from laughing. "Something funny?" Kenneth asked with a cold glare. Simon burst out laughing, and proclaimed. "I saw...it! It was...upstairs, and..it, seemed to be having some trouble!" Simon yelled, needlessly exclaiming each word, "it", as though it were something truly hilarious. Kenneth sighed and walked up the stairs, but not for very far, as he encountered Emilio almost immediately as he reached the landing. Emilio's head, embedded in the floor at Kenneth's feet, looked up, and greeted: "Hi." Kenneth looked down in disbelief at Emilio's head, since his body was nowhere to be found. Only a disembodied head buried in the jungle of shag carpet. Candy began walking up the stairs, and looked down at the beheaded Emilio. "Oh, where's the rest of your body, silly?" She asked, giggling slightly. Emilio sighed and looked back at Kenneth. "This is a patch of quicksand, which the squirrels must have planted before we got down here. I was in a hurry, so I must have gotten stuck before any of you could have noticed. "Then why is your head still there?" Kenneth asked. "The squirrels, being small and weak as individuals, probably didn't have much time to dig this hole deep enough. Where they got the quicksand, though, is beyond me." "Kenneth, can you go upstairs and see if Emilio left...uh...Emilio's body upstairs?" Candy asked curiously. Kenneth rolled his eyes and reached down to roughly where Emilio's head was, and grabbed him by the shirt. With a very little blit of help from the rest of the tenants, Kenneth and company managed to free Emilio from the trap, and he/she was covered from the neck down in beige muck. "Thanks." Emilio said shortly, and reached into...well, what must have been his/her pocket, and pulled out a tiny object, which no one could identify as it was still covered in the slimy quicksand. Emilio noticed this and rubbed the object on the wall, leaving a brown streak, and the object was a shiny penny, which was kind of contradictory since it was rusty and appeared to have a huge gash mark right down the middle. Emilio stared at it in awe. "It's a lucky penny, It's sure to bring good luck!" Kenneth stared at Emilio, and asked. "Uh, how would you know?" Emilio looked back, expression completely blank. "What? Did I say something?" A strange vision passed over Kenneth's eyes, and he blinked once. "This...isn't...really...happening." Kenneth muttered, hands over his face. Emilio ignored him and walked downstairs, everyone else following. Moments later, among the spilled entrails of the occasional squirrel, and possibly the contentedly purring stray cat, the tenants arrived at the fuse box, where Emilio strode up and opened the box with a dramatic flourish, revealing only one switch, which was missing a fuse. Emilio held up the lucky penny as inspiration flared in his/her eyes. "Let there be light." He/she proclaimed, and used his thumb to jam the penny into the switch. Unfortunately realizing their mistake when he/she forgot to turn the house current off. Emilio sparked and all his/her hair stood on end. Emilio jumped backwards, passing right through Simon, who turned upside down to watch Emilio go by. Emilio slammed into the wall, and fell in a heap at the floor, where most of the tenants looked at him/her. Candy and Protiva began cheering. "Yay! That was so cool! Do it again!" They screamed, and Emilio got up slowly, and proceeded to suck painfully at the thumb which he/she had used to plug the penny in. "Ow."

[i]I've been searching for a man, all across Japan. Just to find... To find my samurai.[/i] Moments before this chaos had erupted, peaceful music had been wafting serenely from apartment 2A, almost creating a thicker atmosphere everywhere it went. An unusually high voice was accompanying this tune, and as one looked back at apartment 2A, one would see tones of bright pink and sky-blue neon coming from the crack under the door. The music seemed to be growing louder, and upon closer inspection, it seemed to be some sort of exotic techno. [i]Someone who is strong, but still a little shy. Yes, I need... I need my samurai![/i] Emilio, crouched down in a rather strange squatting position, was now arched over the dismantled PS2, and was now reassembling it with all the speed and expertise of a real Japanese engineer, and all the while, singing this song to a tiny tape deck lying in the corner of her otherwise furniture-bare apartment. "ai, ai, ai, I'm your little butterfly...green, black and blue, making patterns in the sky...ai, ai, ai..." Emilio continued this unnaturally high rendition of his/her favorite song, when suddenly, something in an even greater decibel level than Emilio's voice came from the apartment adjacent, and Emilio turned just in time to see the bright neon lights on the arcade pad in the center of the room flick off abruptly. Emilio stared at the pad in horror, when a massive rumbling sound came from the hallway and Emilio heard something smack like a heavy lead weight on the door, which swung open easily, offering no resistance. Emilio turned to see a mysterious silver-eyed man in his/her doorway, who seemed to be trying to scramble to his feet and put his t-shirt back on at the same time, an effort which was not going quite so well, owing to the fact that there were also several squirrels, some of which frothing at the mouth, crawling all over him. In a matter of moments, Emilio leapt into action, helping some of the squirrels off his visitor, dealing deadly dance-like kicks to each of them, eventually ending with a two-fingered flick right between the eyes of the last, sending him flying across the hall and smacking into the stairwell, unconcious. Emilio got up and looked at the man as he got to his feet, and he/she also noticed that the man's eyes had turned hazel. "Oh! rodents!" the man cried out, almost a few seconds too late, as he turned to face the strange...person...standing in the doorway behind him. In a split second, the man whipped out a small electric rod, and Emilio went limp almost too quickly, within moments, the alien mechanism was inside Emilio's head, and Volvo prepared to recieve the data... There was much loud music...and bright neon lights...and the music appeared to be in a language that Volvo did not recognize. every few seconds, a miniature earthquake, almost rumbling in a pattern, would jar his insides and disorient him. Emilio began to stir, and Volvo pocketed the device, believing that this vision might have been evidence of some kind of aphrodisiac. Volvo looked as Emilio got up, and Emilio stared back in return, expression mysterious as usual. "The power appears to be out." Emilio said in greeting, as he/she reched into a back pocket and flicked out a tiny purple velvet fan, which he/she would always hide behind when speaking to strangers. Volvo eyed the fan carefully, as his eyes turned to pine-green, evidently believing that this strange device now in front of Emilio's face was some kind of weapon. Volvo nodded assent, as though afraid of the earthly weapon and it's capabilities. "Well, why don't we go check on it, then?" Emilio asked, marching out into the darkness, feet gliding smoothly along the floor, as Volvo trailed behind, waiting for a chance to strike the human off guard...

"Whew." Charlie gasped as he exited the apartment, and began a long treacherous climb up the next flight of stairs to the next apartment, Emilio's apartment. He looked up at the thin door marked "2A", and wore a look of grim determination as he marched up to the door as through he were about to run a marathon, which, of course, had nothing to do with the fact that he just had a few minutes ago. This look of determination was apt at the moment, due to the fact that Charlie was determined to figure out at least one personal fact about his most secretive tenant, Emilio. He strode up, and rapped lightly on the door, only to see it swing open under the weight of his hand. Tenatatively, he entered, as though he expected something to lunge out at him, as was the case with Daisy's apartment. He looked down at the floor around him, and it looked like a scene from the movie "Big", only everything was dismantled. Careful not to step on the tiny pieces of the PS2 lying on the floor, he called out, as though expecting his tenant to be hiding behind one of the massive wall-sized speakers. "Emilio?" Charlie called out, and, although this did not surprise him all that much, he made no attempt to resist jumping at the sound of the baritone-female/soprano-male voice coming from above him, as Emilio was hanging from the ceiling fan, rotating slowly. "Hello, landlord. Is there any way I can be of help?" Charlie looked around, and realized that he was now standing on an iron and fiberglass platform with bright neon pink and blue tinted arrows attached to it. It looked like it had been hastily ripped off from an arcade machine, but before he could ponder the point any longer, Emilio dropped from above, and landed on top of Charlie, who fell to the ground in a mess of wires and game platform chips. He scrabbled around desperately for some kind of purchase on the ground, when his hand rested on Emilio's chest. He gasped. Was that a breast?...No...Yes...No...Not sure. "Is there something you need?" Emilio asked again, in his (possibly her) misty hybrid voice, and Charlie desperately reached behind himself for the cash bucket. He held it out, and muttered weakly: "Rent..." Emilio reached behind himself (or was it herself?), and pulled out an enormous leather bag, which he/she grabbed by the bottom, and proceeded to empty its entire contents, one hundred dollars, in quarters, into the bucket. Charlie gasped under the weight of so much change, and before he could put the ideas together again, he found himself on his feet, and being ushered hastily out of the apartment by a very silent Emilio, who then procceded to make a small motion, like a dance move, before spinning around and slamming the door in Charlie's face. He fell against the opposite wall, and took a deep breath to stop his head from spinning. He looked down and felt the weight of four hundred quarters cutting into his fingers, as he began walking towards the next apartment. He hoped that Charles would never find out about this.

Name: Emilio Gender:...No one knows for sure. Age: 18 Description: [url=http://e-aroma.hp.infoseek.co.jp/img/js-picture/another/psy-emilio-1.jpg]This be it.[/url] Bio: Emilio has always grown up living a mystery, he/she has never really liked telling lies, but whenever someone asks a qurestion, he/she will reply with some unintelligible reply that one must attempt do decipher on their own, i.e. a riddle or something cryptic of the like. Whenever someone asks Emilio about his/her history, he/she replies so cryptically every time that people have developed several explanations as to her past: 1. he/she grew up in the future 2. he/she grew up in the suburbs, of a tiny town who'se name no one can pronounce 3. he/she claims to be an angel or heavenly being come to save humanity. He/she evidently has some major issues with grasping the concept of reality, even going to the point where he/she refuses to tell anyone his/her gender. His/her clothes and voice quality are no clear indicators, as his/her clothes always seem to be of the "unisex" appeal. Furthermore, Emilio's voice also carries both a low but soft quality, and therefore could be construed as either male or female. This raises a lot of questions, the most common of which might include: "Where does he/she buy his/her clothes?" and "How does he/she go to a public bathroom?" or "who would Emilio go out with? No one knows... Emilio never really denies anything outright, so when someone must accuse him/her of lying or stealing or committing some atrocity of the like, he/she usually just replies with another cryptic answer, which might contradict something he/she already may have said, but it makes no difference, as his/her enquirors have no idea how to interpret what he/she just said. After several hours of frustrating argument with Emilio about his/her personal details, he finally decided to write down whatever on the form for Emilio's registration to become a tenant. and by that time, he was so tired that he didn't even bother making Emilio sign the agreementr for rent payment. Therefore, his/her life remains a mystery, even to Charlie. Despite his/her lack of personal identification, Emilio always pays the rent on time, and in full, although no one is quite sure where he/she gets the money. Furthermore, that picture description of Emilio is the only picture of him/her in existence. No one is quite sure what the "Psychic Force 2012" caption implies, or where the wings came from, or even why there is a last name that Emilio has never used, but no one bothers asking, for reasons already stated. Reason for Moving In: Emilio never really adressed this, but some people speculated/deciphered that he/she says that this place is a good place to live. Idiosyncracies: Emilio never gives a straight answer to any personal question, no matter what it may be. However, there is one small thing that captures his/her soul unlike anything else. One aspect of life that enriches his/her experience on this planet unlike anything else in the universe: Dance Dance Revolution. Yes, it's true, nothing else ever captures Emilio's interest quite like this unusual arcade game. Hence people's interpretation of why he/she had decided to live in Apartment Building C, it is within good walking distance of an arcade featuring this heavenly game. The few people who have entered Emilio's apartment have been greeted with the sight of floor-to-ceiling speakers, a huge-screen TV that covers most of the far wall, and a PS2 unit in the middle of the floor that has been completely dismantled, evidently for modifications. They suspect that Emilio plans to start playing the game in the apartment, but almost no one believes that the building could withstand the intensity of sound produced by those speakers. People are not sure where he/she got the money for all the aforementioned equipment, however, people on the street have claimed that they have seen someone fitting Emilio's description playing Dance Dance Revolution for cash.

[i]We don't want to die, but if we do, then I guess we are really lucky after all. What are we doing in this world? Are we hurting people? Do we really have to kill to survive like this?[/i] Bolt appeared to be writhing slightly on the ground. Azufe looked curiously at him and realized that his face was beading slightly with sweat. "Is he okay?" Tera asked, worried. "I...I think so...He hasn't reacted like this before." Azufe replied, then crouched down in an attempt to rouse his fallen friend. [i]Rain...it's raining... "I happen to like the rain, you know." Somebody...on their knees...screaming... 'you....Cross...told...hurting...each other...eating...each other...' "A real nightmare, huh? I didn't know you cared so much." Somebody...growing...and more yelling. 'you don't care...don't care.' "A nightmare unlike anything else, don't worry, I can get you out..." '...don't...' "It's okay, we'll get you out." '...don't...' "I'll get you out."[/i] Azufe reached down to look at his unconcious friend's face, when Bolt suddenly jumped to his feet with surprising agility, and immediately thrust a hand at Azufe's face, as though to punch him. Azufe looked up in shock at his friend's behaviour, but Bolt looked downright terrified, a face completely bleached of colour, only textured with beads of cold sweat, eyes wide and pupils dialated so small they were almost invisible. Even the colour appeared to drain from his hair, and the hand, now stopped directly in front of Azufe's face, was shaking noticeably. Bolt appeared stricken for a moment, then his hand dropped and he began to weave around slightly, as though intoxicated. He fell to one knee and his head fell forwards as thought it were made of lead, his hair covering his face. He looked sick. "Are you all right?" Azufe asked, wondering what the hell had just happened. Bolt didn't look up, but replied, with an unusually low and pained tone of voice. "...somebody...yelling..." "Who is yelling?" Azufe asked, and Kira looked forward. "Is something wrong with him?" "He has problems with his memory, but he's never reacted like this before." "..somebody...mad...nightmare..." "Who was mad, Bolt? Who is yelling?" Bolt's head appeared to lift slightly, and his eyes looked strangely dead, as though he was resurfacing from some awful nightmare. "...rain...lots of rain...somebody yelling...." Azufe recoiled in shock. Rain? Somebody yelling? Was Bolt somehow remembering what had happened before Gargomon knocked him out? He seemed to be speaking very low, was there something going on with his memory? Was he aware of what was happening? Bolt got to his feet very slowly, and groaned slightly as his head swung back, and he appared to be moving in a rather disjointed manner, like a marionette on strings. Azufe looked up, and Bolt made a strange gagging noise and looked up, he appared to have returned to normal, and he spat a bit on the ground. He seemed out of breath. "You okay?" Azufe asked, tenaciously, as though Bolt was going to lunge at Azufe, knowing what had happened. "Yeah, I'm okay, just a headache, think I must have had some kind of weird dream." Bolt replied, although he did have the air of someone just waking up. Azufe imagined what was going on. Why now? What was Bolt dreaming now? Did he, in fact, regain his memory and was just playing with Azufe, or was this just a random bad dream, which coincidentially involved a lot of rain and someone yelling very loudly. Perhaps he had gone into some kind of shock from being knocked out like that. Azufe wasn't sure. He only knew he had to figure out how to complete the mission, and fast, and get Bolt back to the base medics for further examination. "Are you okay?" Tera asked, looking at Bolt in wonder. Bolt stared down at her, and then swayed back towards Azufe, still looking a little woozy. "A partner on our mission, Azufe?" Crossfire got up from his cross-legged position in his cell, and looked out at the field in front of the base area, searchlights sweeping every inch of the terrain every few seconds. He imagined his best friend, lying there in pain, from what he had just done. [i]"Did it work?"[/i] Crossfire looked up at the ceiling, imagining that this voice had come from directly above him, but he remembered his place, and bowed his head slightly to the ground. [i]"No sir, it did not work." "If you had held him for another few seconds he might have recovered." "If I had held him for another few seconds he might have died, or gone insane."[/i] Crossfire looked up slightly, and saw Wind in the cell directly across from him, eyes closed, sitting cross-legged, looking tense with concentration, beads of sweat appeared to be forming on his head. [i]"If you three can handle the stress, so can he." "I don't even know where he is now, it took all three of us a lot of energy to reach him, and we've had practice, he doesn't even know it's inside him." "Well, I advise you to tell him all about it, so that he may practice once he gets back." "If he gets back." "He is a data hunter, he possesses the same marks, and the same gift as you, he will be back."[/i] The voice stopped abruptly, and Crossfire looked up to see Wind as a bead of sweat dropped from his head, he was out of breath, but doing a great job at masking it, his chest collapsed inwards and inflated again as he strained from oxygen. Crossfire looked at him, and whispered, almost inaudibly: "Obrigado." Wind smiled, despite the fact that his eyes were still closed. Crossfire looked out over the field of the prison section, as the searchlights blanched the ground over which they passed...

"Well, maybe you ought to hang back, and I'll see what's happening up front." Azufe said confidentially to Bolt, as the two of them slowed down to a stop, since some of the tunnels became too narrow for the large parahawk any longer. Azufe checked his gear, and the two of them leapt off the large vehicle. Azufe took a few steps forward, then turned back. "If you see anything, don't kill it unless it tries to kill you first." Azufe warned, and rushed off to try and find the target with Terriermon, whilst Bolt hung back to keep the parahawk, and their equipment, safe. He pulled out a heavy shotgun from underneath the seat of the hawk, and decided to hang around. It was very cold out, but that didn't stop him from feeling very sleepy, since he had only caught a meek few hours of sleep since he fisrt met Azufe at the base. Bolt sat back and wondered what his life must have been like until that moment when he had lost his memory. Was he really the hero who had worked with Azufe for all this time, or was there something...more? He knew it was wrong to doubt Azufe, who had been good to him and helped him put his life back together again...but that couldn't stop him from wondering... [i]Everyone's been so weird with me...does this mean that I'm not really who I think?[/i] Bolt tried hard to remember something from before the supposed "incident" in which his memory had disappeared, but there was really nothing to summon up which he could remember, he was drawing blanks, there was nothing he could remember, nothing... [i]This can't be happening...whole years of my life, my childhood, everything...gone...[/i] He thought carefully of Azufe, of what he might have been like before this entire accident...was he really like that? Or was he pretending something different? Bolt tried so hard to remember what the setting was like...a place...a voice...nothing at all. [i]Is this really who I am....or is there something no one has been telling me?[/i] Nothing...raindrops...a glimpse of black asphalt and streetlights...somebody was yelling... [i]I'm just me...but is that all?[/i] Somebody was yelling very loud...something about...somebody...familliar. [i]I guess there's not much to question...this is my life now, right?[/i] Sombody...close. [i]Right?[/i] A loud bang awoke the sleeping Bolt, and he looked up to realize that he had fallen asleep slighly, sitting on top of the parahawk. The bang was the sound of his shotgun slipping out of his hand and hitting the side of the vehicle. Bolt reached over and picked it up, but became aware of a small noise coming from above, a rustling...and thought he caught a shadow coming from the cave ceiling, dancing shadows...Bolt warily picked up his shotgun, but he began to feel strangely...relaxed rather than unnerved, amused rather than fearful. He let the shotgun slide to his side again, and as he bent to pick it up, he thought he could hear more small steps, and imagined being stalked. Just for the hell of it, he picked up the tiny casette recorder, and began speaking clearly, his voice bouncing off the cavern walls. "My name is Bolt, and I think I am being stalked right now." The footsteps stopped, and Bolt took notice that the shade appeared to have stopped moving as well. He continued. "Uh, I'm Bolt, nice to meet you, whoever you are." Bolt said, he almost felt like laughing, either there really was someone there, he was still asleep and dreaming, or he was steadily going insane, imagining shadows and footsteps in the dark. "Well, uh, I guess someone is out to kill me, or something, I dunno." Bolt thought he spotted movement again, but there was nothing. He continued, trying to keep his eyes open for any sign of movement. "To be honest, I'm not even sure why I'm here, some mission for a big government agency, I think, and I can't even remember who I am." Bolt looked over, he thought he had noticed something, but again there was nothing. He kept talking. "I work for the army, or so they say, to be honest I'm not sure what to believe anymore, I can't remember anything, not a thing." Bolt heard the sound of a few loose rocks falling to the floor, and was almost certain that he had spotted some movement. "So, whoever is after me, if you want to kill me...well...you can try, and I don't really care that much." Bolt clicked "stop" just as he heard a footstep directly behind him, and turned around to catch a blur of white and a heavy weight strike him in the face. He collapsed, and an angry red scratch appeared on his face. The culprit looked down curiously at the tape recorder in hand, and then proceeded to drag the body away...

The low rumbling of the chopper's blades cut the cool night air and blew the snow around it in all directions, sending wave upon wave of cool snowflakes into the air around it, and clearing a way for some landing purchase. However, a sudden gust of wind blew the helicopter somewhat off balance. "There's way too much wind here, gotta land somewhere else." "That's fine, just make sure we reach the drop zone on time." The chopper's blades cut smoothly through the air as it continued its ascent, casting a cool shadow over the snow below. A small searchlight emerged from underneath and lit up a small hillside, and, satisfied, the helicopter swung slightly to a halt in front of it. "Ok, here's your landing." "Thanks, we can handle it from here." "Thanks." The chopper's bay doors opened to release a motorcycle-sized package from underneath, which appeared to be wrapped in a huge tarpaulin cloak. The helicopter's searchlight retracted, and the chopper soared off in the opposite direction, leaving the black package behind. "Ready?" "Let's do this." The small package seemed to unravel slowly from the inside, as the ends seemed to inflate somewhat and unfold like a large plant. Once completed, the covering looked more like a rubber raft on land. Wrapped up inside were Bolt, Azufe, and a small machine that looked like a snowmobile. The packaging seemed to shrink somewhat to a static shape, and what they ended up with was a hovercraft-like snowmobile; a military parahawk. Azufe gunned the machine and it slid cleanly across the snow, leaving almost no traces, and moving with a surprisingly silent quickness across the darkened landscape. Azufe and Bolt were wearing thick green glasses, night vision goggles, for support on their trek, and the LT packs were strung to the back of overly-large cloaks for support which would act as their homes for the next little while. The parahawk was equipped with enough fuel to last them for possibly most of the trip, and the machine, incredibly light, could glide easily downhill with no need of gas except in an emergency. The sient craft purred over the hillside, as Bolt looked up to admire the majesty of the Himalayas... [i]Pai nosso, que estàs nos céus: santificado seja o teu nome. Venha o teu reino. Seja feita a tua vontade, assim na terra, como no céu. O pão nosso de cada dia nos dá hoje. E perda-nos as nossas dividas, assim como nós perdoamos aos nossos devedores. E nao induizas à tentação, mas livra-nos do mal. Porque teu é o reino e o poder e a glória para sempre. Amen.[/i] "Had enough yet?" The General grinned menacingly, as Wind was now muttering madly to himself, body riddled with holes from the points of the stun gun. His body seemed to be sshutting down on him, as he could no longer feel most of his limbs, and felt his heart racing and slowing down at odd intervals. "Well?" the voice of a medic came in through the General's com. "General, he won't survive another shock, switch him for someone else..." "Silence!" The General roared, and, eyeing Wind, gave him one more stab in the heart, causing him to fall over and writhe and twist madly. Two uniformed medics rushed in and began trying to undo Wind's bindings, while the General turned around, replacing his stun gun on the table. Wind was suffering from cardiac arrest, as he was now being hustled out of the room, now unconcious. The General looked at his com. "Bring in the first one again." The General said, grinning into the darkness. The door swung open not a moment later, and Crossfire reappeared, looking far less amused than when he first came in. The General glared at him, and picked up the stun gun again, when a voice protested over his com. "Don't do it, sir, he can't survive much more..." The General flicked off the com, and returned his attention to Crossfire as he was being bound down... "Clear!" Wind jolted slightly as the electric current passed through him body, and the doctor looked relieved to see his blood pressure seemed to be returning to normal, he was also quite impressed, as he had never heard of anyone with that kind of longevity in his system. The Operating room light went off as the medical technicians walked out in file. Imahori returned inside. "Awful, just what the General has been reduced to these days..." The doctor put a finger to his lips, and nodded slightly towards a small com in the corner. Leaning Imahori over, he whispered: "The walls have ears, my friend." Imahori looked at Wind lying on the table, who now appeared to be concious again. He looked, almost serenely as ever, back at Imahori, who stared in return. Wind was completely unboud, ad appreared to be functioning normally, he was wondering why Wind was making no attempt at resistance. "It's okay, we know your intentions are good, so there's nothing you need to say or worry about." Wind said soothingly, as though Imahori was the one in pain. Imahori looked at the young data hunter with some interest, and returned to the doctor. "I think we ought to try and get them out of interrogation for now, give them some time for recovery." A loud bang was heard over the com system, and someone moaning in agony, and the General's voice, laughing. "Yes, if they survive the first round, anyway." The doctor said confidentially. Imahori turned to see Wind trying to get up, but each movement was slow and agonizingly painful, and Imahori turned to look at him. Wind smiled. "I said not to worry, didn't I?"

"Hm, well, how do you suppose we stop them?" Kaeli asked curiously to Gale, as she knew almost nothing about fighting. The warrior looked at her with some indignation, and replied: "Well, we now have these chocobos with us, so we can certainly stand a fighting chance now..." Gale began, but was cut off by Kaeli, who seemed to be laughing quietly to herself. "What's so funny?" Gale demanded, incredulous, as Kaeli looked up at him, eyes glimmering. "Well, there must be a few of them...and I sure have no idea about fighting monsters...so...maybe this isn't the best plan?" Gale slapped his forehead, and Kaeli grinned with embarrasment. "Logan's not here any longer, without Serene to block the Waltzes Magic, our chances of survival are dramatically thinned...or so I'm guessing." Aster said with a slight note of dismay, and Gale looked around at the group. "We still have more than enough!" Kaeli looked up again. "Well, wouldn't you suggest some kind of tactic?" Kaeli asked sheepishly, but Gale growled at her...before realizing something important... [i]Kaeli wasn't with us when we escaped...the Waltzes wouldn't recongize her as an enemy...[/i] Gale leaned in close next to Biggs, and began whispering something in his ear. Biggs nodded comprehensively, and looked at Kaeli. "Do you have any 'Smoke Bomb' on you now?" Biggs asked, and Kaeli pulled a tiny black orb out of her vest. "For you, 50 gil apiece." Biggs stared at her, slack-jawed, and she laughed. "I was kidding! Sure..." Kaeli handed Biggs the black orb, and he turned around, beginning to tinker with it. Gale looked at Kaeli. "You know what you're going to do?" Gale demanded, and Kaeli grinned sheepishly. "...Whatever plan you have sounds good..." The earth trembled slightly with each series of footsteps in unison, and several small animals raced off in different directions to shake off the rumbling of the ground. The line of Waltzes advanced menacingly forwards, creating a shadowly presence throughout the area, like a dark force of nature. The Waltzes, slightly perturbed by a new presence, halted, also in unison, and stared up the hill at a lone figure in a bright cloak, riding on a fiery orange Chocobo... Kaeli took a look at the line of large Waltzes on the hillside, and whistled lowly to herself, absently stroking Mandarin's head. She felt the tiny device under her cloak, would this plan work? She stroked the machine gently, and looked down at the Waltzes, as huge black wings sprouted from their backs, as a sign of menace. All of them began charging up various elemental spells, and Kaeli threw her cloak open to reveal a strange sphere-like machina, which appeared to be composed of multiple Smoke Bombs. Hurling the device high into the air, she took a deep breath and reared Mandarin way up, and, as the sphere came down, Mandarin unleashed his devastating roundhouse-double, and the second blow sent the machina hurtling like a shooting star at the line of Waltzes. As it got close, the machina seemed to explode, and hurled the Smoke Bombs in all directions, each one now letting out blinding clouds of grey smoke, which hung in the air like fog. Withing seconds, the entire hillside was covered in a milky fog, completely impenetrable. Kaeli smiled with satisfaction, and turned around, fingers to her mouth, and let out a shrill whistle which riled up all the chocobo. "Break through!" Gale roared as their line of force rushed the now-blind Waltzes. Each memeber, Gale in the lead, pierced the thick white fog, and the sounds of combat and confusion were heard from within, as bolts of multiple elements raged out in all directions from inside the sphere of fog...