0ber0n the Neko

(Digging the idea. Hope it goes far.) Name: Donner Skyclan Gender: Male Race: Terran Age: Looks somewhere around his late 20's. Appearance: [URL="http://www.chamberofhorrors.com/Merchant2/graphics/00000001/cs214.jpg"]http://www.chamberofhorrors.com/Merchant2/graphics/00000001/cs214.jpg[/URL] Personality: Generally reserved, which gives those around him the impression of arrogance. Though, word is he's got reason to regard himself highly. Abilities: Donner's not a very complicated man, but he's able to make a weapon out of just about anything in a scrap. He's also an accomplished gunslinger, marksman and spacer, skills he picked up while working for a Space Forces black ops unit, which was disbanded shortly after a crucial truce with the Ctarl-Ctarl. His most powerful asset, however, is his arsenal, which consists of several weapons that, were he not specially licensed and authorized for their use, he would be sent to a lifetime in prison for merely possessing. Weapon(s): Skyclan's personal armory is vast, most of the weapons ranging from high-caliber pistols to heavy solid-round projectile weapons. His more prized possessions are a pair of modified flintlock-style pistols (modifications - Automatic fire, expanded magazine, special ammunition) that he's never seen without, a pair of low-grade light-shields, and a long heat-knife. His armory also possesses several special weapons that use experimental technology (personal laser rounds, unstable biochemical compounds, etc.), but he knows better than to rely on such shaky odds during a shootout. Bio: Donner joined the Space Forces when he was 16 years old, having graduated from a prestigious 'Force academy. He displayed admirable skill and was put into training for a new division of the Space Forces. The project was top-secret, and initiated in response to the growing aggression of the unaligned Ctarl-Ctarl tribe-nations. However, after many years of intense training in the arts of skillful weapon use and espionage, a crucial treaty was signed between the Terrans and the renegade tribe-nations, calling for their withdrawal and peaceful trade within Terran spheres. The squad's usefulness had run out, and its members had been honorably discharged from service. After leaving the Space Forces, Skyclan was unemployed, and sought bounty work, mostly with a pirate clan whose rivals were numerous and in need of culling. When rumors of his training began to circulate, he was almost immediately outlawed from all officially Terran nations, though his access to experimental and dangerous weapons remains unhindered. Today his bounty work is done, after hearing of a place in space where wishes can be granted...

I'm also pretty sure that either my character got ignored post-landing, or is being called "Nick" XD

Nate Winston leaned on the cool, possibly disease-ridden handrail that lined the walls of New York's small-craft airport. His eyes were set on the horizon, waiting patiently for any sign of the craft that carried the "witches". He spat, catching an irritated look from the security guard nearby. He shrugged, lighting up a cigarette, watching as perturbation turned to horror. He leaned once more against the rail, a long drag of smoke filling into his lungs and then slowly breathing out. Before the security guard reached him, perhaps to accost him for his disregard for the "No Smoking" signs strewn about the terminal, an attractive, middle-aged man smiled up from behind him - Adrian Veidt. The guard seemed almost in awe, his face both pleading and frightened as he shuffled back to his post. "Winston, you need to put that out. Security won't give us trouble about it, but that doesn't mean we should exploit it," he commanded, with an edge of pleading on his voice. Nate shut his eyes, sighing heavily as the cigarette burned quietly between his fingers. "Look, Veidt. You're the reason I have to babysit a buncha freaks for their next mission. You can suffer me a cigarette." Adrian frowned, looking at Nate's apathetic face, which blew smoke rings into the noisy air. "Please, they're people too. Don't call them 'freaks'." Nate didn't reply, still staring off at the horizon, waiting for the last rays of the sun to twinkle off the silver craft that carried his new assignment. Any minute now. Adrian looked as if he'd try to speak, but then thought better of it, gazing over the dancing rays of a beautiful sunset. A ray of light glinted off a craft in the distance, and Nate shifted his weight, standing up and walking towards the terminal. His hands darted into the deep pockets of his trenchcoat, his eyes now set on the landing craft, and the crowd that spilled out from it. "Just another one of these kinds of days, eh, Louis...?" he whispered, hearing them clamor up the hallway to receiving. "Just another one of these days..." OOC: I know this might come up - my character wouldn't openly admit his slight hostility towards magic-users in any tangible way other than apathy. Looking forward to trying something new, guys. Best of luck.

Oh, balls. Me and not reading underground threads...

May 5, 3018 To Whom it May Concern, Today marks the death of one of our greatest field agents. I regret to inform you all the Louis DeGallant has died, subject to arcane forces beyond his control. It is unclear whose side he was on when he passed, but he was a superb agent, and an even closer friend. His funeral will be held on May 30th, in his hometown of New Los Angeles City. After the burial, there will be a wake at Louis' previous residence, where refreshments will be served. I understand that relations had been strained between him and the rest of your group, especially as he began to lose control to the entity known as "logos". Please understand that you have no obligation to attend, but that we will require you to attend a meeting to re-evaluate your team structure in the light of your recent loss at your earliest convenience. Best wishes to you in your time of mourning, Adrian Veidt, Director of Operations

Alright, this here is the official Background thread for We Were Patriots Then... The main thread is being pushed back to tommorrow or monday night (I'm negotiating with a rather taxing work schedule, 10 hour days are pretty brutal.) This way, Godot is able to post a little earlier. Also, bear in mind the following- This might be a bit slow-moving. We're not going to sack and burn the entire opposing army in a night. I'm going to try and make this a little slower, and a little more intellectual. So, be prepared! Regards,

OOC: Did Louis get help? I'm assuming he didn't. Louis' eyes swept over Jinx and Damo, and he felt the arcane weight grow stronger. His face visibly contorted, attempting speech, but ultimately failing. He breathed heavily and tried to move himself, but to no avail. Damo cast a leery glance at him, "Having trouble, are you?" Louis's eyes met his, pleading and heavy before suddenly going dark. Something was wrong - this sort of thing had never happened before... Blackness swept over Louis as Damo and Jinx faded from view. It wrapped itself around him, lifting the weight of the arcane, but still leaving him helpless, trapped in a world of dreams. He stood amidst the darkness, feeling naught but a presence inside him stirring. "Hello?" he ventured delicately, peering out against the shadowy shapes that dotted the horizon. [i]"Hello, Louis..."[/i] a voice that seemed to come from all directions replied. [i]"It appears you are forsaken by those you once called 'comrade'..."[/i] "Who are you, exactly? What am I here for?" Louis responded, looking around him but seeing nothing. [i]"You know who I am, Louis. It should not come as such a surprise to you that I should be the one to... tend to you... in your weakened state."[/i] The voice laughed, slightly. Louis felt suddenly cold, remembering a sensation he'd thought dead long ago. "You have not told me for what purpose I was brought here, Logos. By what power did I come?" [i]"By your own power, Louis..."[/i] the voice seemed to breathe heavily on his neck, predatory and sensual all the same. [i]"It was not I who brought you here, but you who came of your own volition. Is that surprising to you?"[/i] Louis set his teeth, knowing that no fear could save him from what would surely come. "Do not lie to me, Logos. I know it is you who brought me here, I have not the power to visit the plane of shadow." The voice laughed, echoing with sinister intent about the walls, [i]"You fool! Do you not see the powers you possess? These books that you surround yourself with - they are worthless compared to what I can offer to you!"[/i] Louis' eyes were cold. "You can offer me naught but a swift death, Logos." Suddenly, lights flashed, sparks of color flitted across his vision. The dark world around him seemed to collapse. The voice, growing softer, laughed, [i]"Remember my offer, for there will soon come a time when you want it - when that time comes, I will be here. Farewell, Louis DeGallant..."[/i] A flash of light blinded him, and he awoke, hands around Damo's throat. His mind caught up with him, and he released his grip. "Damo, I'm..." he began, eyes frightened, "Damo, I didn't mean-" Damo seemed to visibly hold back his rage, "Of course you didn't..." he growled, turning to Jinx. "Looks like he's better now. Come on, let's get out of here." Louis looked down at his hands, unsure of what had passed. He lay in bed awhile, staring at the door as it slammed, leaving him alone, confused, and afraid.

Name: Captain Laos "Cold Eyes" Finnegan Age: 28 Sex: Male Weapon: Bayonet Gauss Rifle, combat knife, medium caliber service pistol Soldier/Psionic: A stoic soldier, whose marksmanship is virtually unparalleled. He was offered many times to undergo psionic training (as tests show he has the psionic "spark"), but he has adamantly refused it. Nobody knows why, but many are sure that it has something to do with his less than kind regard for psionics. Brief Physical Description: Laos stands about 6' tall, and is well built, showing unmistakable evidence of intense physical training. He has a strong jaw, cold green eyes, and a jagged scar running from his left brow all the way down to his clavicle. He has short black hair, and attractive features. Brief Personality Description: Captain Finnegan is a strange figure. Outside of his platoon, he is known and feared for his strict discipline. Most soldiers, if given the option, would sooner leave the armed forces than serve under Captain "Cold Eyes". However, those who serve under him are often grateful for his strict commands, having often been saved by a lesson taught by his harsh punishment. Reason for Enlisting: A man doesn't need a reason to enlist. All he needs is a reason to win. One distinguishing feature about your character: His unexplained, visibly terrifying scar. One way in which war has changed/will change your character: He's always been sort of an "Iron Man", killing without thought or remorse for the fallen. His patriotism is legendary. However, at the war's end, something will shake his faith in the Red... (OOC: One or two more characters, and I'm starting this thing.)

Louis awoke with a start. His eyes opened and were immediately pained by the light of his room. He sighed, trying to move, but entirely unable. Arcane energy seemed to keep him fast, a heavy weight on his chest that he could neither remove nor negotiate. He cursed himself, letting himself focus before letting a simple spell flow into his mind. He'd often needed this particular charm, as particularly strong magic often left him weakened in the morning. A rune floated softly in his mind, taking several minutes to make a definitive shape, like smoke pulling itself slowly together. Finally, the sharp edges of the rune were clear, glowing and immediately connecting his mind to the nearest to him. "[i]Hello,[/i]" he thought, "[i]This is Louis - I need a bit of help getting out of bed. Do you suppose you could lend a hand?[/i]" Very markedly feminine thoughts trickled back, "[i]Louis? What are you doing in my head?[/i]" they seemed to say, giving just the slightest notion of Jinx's voice. Louis hesitated, breathing in slowly before responding, "[i]It's a charm I often use when I can't move. If you can, please hurry - I can't hold this charm up much longer before it fails.[/i]" With that, the charm wisped away, leaving a painful headache in Louis as it passed. He was now painfully aware that Jinx had most likely accessed his reaction to her voice, and probably wouldn't come because of it. Louis breathed deeply, body weak beneath the crushing weight of his own mana. It would only be a few hours until he could move again, so he waited. OOC: Sorry, I'm a conflict whore. Though, Jinx's player hasn't responded in a while...

As JB charged into the room, the battle was already almost over. The remaining cultists were numbered, but Louis' continued expenditure of magic was making him lose lucidity. "The cavalry has arrived, indeed..." Louis smiled, steeling his mind with the comfort of numbers. If ever there was a doubt that the cultists would fail, it disappeared as crossbow bolts sailed through the air, connecting with terrifying accuracy. Some cultists abandoned their robes and ran, seeing the hopelessness of this battle. Bolts of lightning ran through the crowd, skewering all in their path. Fire, frost, and arcane power sailed into the cultists, crushing them decisively in mere minutes. Swathes of dead carpeted the hall, robes cast off from the deserters lay strewn about, indistinguishable from the blood and gore and mage-flame. A few still lived, their groans of mortal pain gurgled off as their throats swelled up with their own blood, cries were heard, wailing in unending misery. Louis looked over the sea of corpses, unfazed. He turned to JB after awhile, his mind reeling. His mouth opened, but nothing came forward. Instead, he fell into JB, unconscious. OOC: Sorry for being so terse. I figure this would be the best way to end it.

Around the bend, the trail led into a seemingly inconspicuous door, and the tracer passed through it. Louis turned to Duke, breathing heavily as they ran. "I'll be a distraction. I can do a lot more damage without the rest of you in the fray, so all of you will be primarily responsible with the safe recapture of our teammates," Louis continued. He caught a resentful look from Duke, and shook his head, "Duke, I understand you're not entirely happy with taking orders, but save it for the one who's taken Nayomi. Cults are built around a dominant personality, and whoever that is deserves your ire far more than I." Duke's glower deepened, his eyes dark. He began to speak, but Louis cut him off, "Lead the recovery team. I'll keep your flanks clear. And for god's sake, don't look back." The group breathed a collective sigh, each member tapping into whatever powers they could safely muster. Soon, all eyes were on Louis, whose hand rested gingerly on the door's knob, silently removing the warding spell that held it fast. "Ladies, gentlemen - godspeed," Louis murmured, swinging the door open. Behind it sprawled a chasmous room, walls- lined with red banners, floor- white marble. The ceiling was masterfully vaulted, stretching far beyond the realistic constraints of space. A long, blood red carpet flowed boldly down the broad foyer, up twin spiral staircases and up to a pair of large, oaken doors. All along it, hundreds of cultists stared back at them with disbelief. As they fumbled for their swords, alarmed by the sudden appearance of unexpected guests, the group sped forward, towards the doors. Louis stopped halfway there, pretending to twist his ankle. The bulk of the cultists centered around him, an easy target. Steadily, a complex spell weaved itself in his mind, not making itself apparent just yet. Louis only hoped that his comrades were not around to witness it. (OOC: Apologies if I ran ahead too quickly. Whoever wants to can add in some dialogue before we charge in, and your actions after we enter are entirely yours to decide [e.g. you can say you didn't charge for the door, and instead took a big bite out of the first cultist you saw])

I believe that some sort of raid is going on, but things are moving very quickly, and I think some parts of the story aren't fitting right. Perhaps we should break up the action a little bit.

If anyone thinks my character is overpowered, let me know here. I'd be glad to tone it down a bit if necessary.

Louis ran serenely to the leftmost flank of the cultists, Reiku following in perfect step. He summoned a bright flash of arcane light, that turned many of the group towards him, and also began the attack. The stunning flash left many of those around him in a vulnerable daze, and Louis appreciated Nayomi's impressive foresight in sending Reiku with him, as the spell was tangent on one's ability to see it at close range. Louis's hands fluttered and swayed with the emergence of another spell, and he surrendered himself to the arcane energies that sprang forth from the elder grimoires. The runes flashed before his eyes, filling his body with ecstatic delight. He laughed as several cultists were swathed in hellish fire, burning black with vengeance. He could see their eyes wither, their mouths twisted in horror as screams failed them, their breath stolen away by the dark flames. He could see their skin blister and boil as the flames licked and burned it away. The sight was horrifying. Already he was casting another spell, feeling lightheaded as the elder script wrote itself delicately in his mind, white hot and painful. He could hardly wait for the archaic hand to finish its scribing, as needles of ice surrounded him, exploding into the cultist crowd. He had no time to begin casting another spell, as a sword swung towards him, missing him by centimeters. He staggered backwards, casting a very quick spell that disarmed him, the sword floating in the air above the cultist before crashing down point first into his body. Louis stepped back from the swirling melee that the battle had become. He couldn't afford to misfire and hit his teammates with his more powerful spells, instead opting to cast ones that would enhance them. Suddenly, Nayomi was considerably larger than a bear. Her wolf-form had become large, and extremely fearsome. Her eyes and teeth glowed reddish white, and her fur became shiny, almost metallic. Immediately afterwards, a blow intended for Damo was deflected by an invisible shield, the sword shattering and piercing its owner. As Louis concentrated to cast a spell on Jinx, he stopped. The words and scripts were gone, replaced by the image of her smile. He tried to call the spell, but all he could think of was her. He cursed himself, gritting his teeth as he managed to turn his attention to Reiku, causing sonic vibrations within the enemies around him that he could use to harness his power. He sighed at his helplessness to ignore the presence of Jinx in his mind as he continued to support the team, each spell seeming more difficult to cast without the effortlessness of an empty mind... (OOC: I didn't want to make my character seem like a precision nuclear bomb or anything - sorry if the first two spells were excessive. Also, in other news, Louis has emotions! What a twist! :animesmil)

After a moment's thought, Louis nodded, standing from his chair. He walked before the two demons, who eyed him dangerously. He stooped, looking them both in the eyes, as he spoke to Kai. "I know what you mean. Come, I'll present you to the group." And with that, he opened the door for her, gesturing down the hall. (Sorry to make it so short. I just figured I'd resolve that scene. I'm moving out of my dorm right now, so my replies will be a bit sporadic for the next little while.)

Louis nodded, taking all the news in perfect stride. "You've arranged what demonologists call a 'Harvest Agreement'. They offer you power in exchange for your offering of souls. It's interesting to me that one so young as you are able to keep the reins on such power taut..." he stroked his chin, smiling as though Rekhat's remark had never been made. "Impressive, possibly a byproduct of pre-existing energies. You said that your family had a history of magic use?" Kai nodded, explaining her family's connection to the arcane. As she did, Louis scribbled furiously in his journal, adding notes and appendices to her genealogy. He made a mental note to research the more prominent names she had provided, still writing after she had ceased speaking. There was a curious silence in the room, punctuated by a knock at the door, Nayomi's voice requesting information, and the rustle of a pen against paper. The soundless hum of magic emanated from the books, and Kai could almost see a definite transfer of energy from the books into Louis as he wrote. He stopped suddenly, and delicately tore a paper out of his notebook, holding it out for Kai, who grasped it, pulling it into her lap. "Now, you told me you needed help with something. While it would not be my decision whether or not we pursue your interests, I would like to know what they are. Your demons may not be a threat unless commanded, but..." he looked her in the eyes, "You will keep them in tow. Demons, as I am sure you know, are not pets. They are powerful beings, capable of ruthless destruction. The page you hold contains all known information about your... retainers, and may serve you well in discovering their hidden strengths. "Now, if you could tell me your troubles, I'd be glad to put my team at ease about your presence..." Suddenly, the door opened, and Reiku walked haplessly into the room, his cane flicking gently back and forth. "If you stay here, you'll need a room. You can stay with me. I have a Cot in my room, so you can sleep in my bed and I'll take the cot. That is, of course, if Louis allows you to stay..." Louis stared blankly at him, "You bring up a valid concern, and if Kai will be staying with us, I'm certain we can make arrangements for her. However, we were covering one final bit of business. If you would be so kind, we will be ready very soon."

Louis cleared his throat, unfazed by the appearance of Quereen and Rekhat at the girl's sides. He couldn't quite make out definite shapes, but the presence of several powerful tomes made their existence rather apparent. He adjusted his spectacles, looking more closely at the two figures that seemed to substantiate like approaching strangers in the fog. One, it seemed, was a black wolf - the other, a black dragon. His eyes widened suddenly as he realized he'd been silent for the better part of a minute, simply staring into the murky figures on either side of Kai. "Apologies, I forgot myself for a moment there. I bear you no ill will. I merely wish to ask you a few questions about the origin of your demon friends," he walked to his shelf, casting a very subtle spell that caused a few of the books to glow an eerie red. His finger hovered inches above the sea of spines, before one shone a bright yellow. Eagerly snatching up the skin-bound book, he sat at his desk, thumbing quietly through the pages, before coming across an illustration of two black figures. A wolf and a dragon. "Ah, so you would be Quereen and Rekhat?" Louis said, calmly, as if the demons before him were nothing more than troublesome students in a principal's office. He turned to Kai, smiling weakly, "These two are demons who only operate under contract. They are ancient evils, not quite elder, but still lords in their own right. Tell me, how did you come across them, and what contracts did you make?" Kai was almost shaken by the unflinching calm in his voice, the intonation that made him seem only half-lucid, like the infernal threat before him wasn't entirely threatening, or even strictly real. Everything he said was breathy, absent, extremely pleasant, but entirely unnerving, for those same words seemed as though they were scarred on her brain, spoken not from without, but from within her head. (Another short one, as I'd rather you describe where they came from. Sorry about the bit at the end, just a bit of character development.)

Louis nodded absently at Damo's request, moving his hands in a vague, almost trancelike manner. Small pieces of paper phased into existence, levitating around him, writing short, personal letters to each member on themselves in magical ink. They then folded themselves into paper airplanes, and flew swiftly out into the night, each of them seeking their respective target. Louis then felt a magical communion going on somewhere inside the small girl. Feeling slightly blindsided, he sighed, smiling once again towards Kai, "Perhaps you and I should speak privately. My quarters are available, and perhaps fitting for our discussion." He peered at Jinx and Damo, who gave him confused, protesting looks. "If you would excuse us?" He opened the door to his room for her, waiting patiently for her to enter. He wanted to find the nature of these demons, to assure that there was no danger to the group, but another, more curious notion swept across his mind, urging him to discover more about these infernal beasts that inhabited the girl's body...

"Excuse me, what was all that noise about?" Louis asked, bewildered. He looked over Damo, who looked as though he'd been running, and then down to the small child before him. A strange energy shook Louis as he continued glancing over her, though he couldn't quite place the nature of it. It felt magical, but something seemed off. Finally, it hit him. He'd read about this many times, in elder tomes bound in tanned flesh, written in scrawled, barely legible hand. "Demons," he whispered, breathtaken by the discovery. He could feel the eyes of the girl shift uneasily towards him, her legs bracing for another sprint. Louis straightened up, clearing his throat and extending his hand delicately to the girl. "Louis DeGallant," he said, smiling. "I see you're one of us. Might I perhaps get your name?" (Sorry for the short post. I just figured I'd give you a chance to get a word in edgewise, Drizzt.)

(Sorry for dropping in late, folks. Thanks for getting me a little established. ^_^) Louis gingerly opened the door to his room, which had the musty scent of ancient paper. Books, seemingly endless in number, were stacked delicately on shelves that seemed to become the walls. Maps and diagrams hung in modest frames, and small, antique models were strewn across the one small desk in the middle of the room. A comfortable leather chair stood proudly behind the oaken structure, upon which a reading lamp and an open book lay invitingly. He closed the door behind him, hearing a soft *click* before sighing heavily and leaning into the arms of his room's comfortable chair. He smiled at how strangely the rest of the team had reacted to his arrival, almost nervously as he cast his eyes down to the yellowed pages of the open book. Inside was a letter, addressed to him. Curious, he reached into the drawer of his desk, which bequeathed to him a small letter-opening knife. He slid it lovingly beneath the envelope's fold, sliding the contents out with a deliberate slowness. "DeGallant, We obtained most of the books you asked for. They have been provided, stacked in reverse chronological order as you requested, on the shelves surrounding your desk. And, also in keeping with your wishes, an itemized list has been provided for you below (with some accommodations for the typewriter's inability to use certain eldritch characters). Best of luck on your mission, sir." Below were listed about 100 titles, each of them a tempting read. His request was not entirely filled, but the Society's library hardly had time to read, let alone find his full 30 pages of titles. It was, however, nice to know that they had chosen some of the particularly rare ones to send him. He folded the letter back up, placing it and the envelope in a lower cabinet in his desk, looking hopefully at the books surrounding him, then standing from his chair and walking to the door... (but who will meet him there?)

I've been a mite confused about what's been going on, so I haven't yet posted. Apologies. Finals are coming up this week, and I'll be attending to them first.

Louis DeGallant Age: 28 Ability: Arcana ("Book Magic") April 22, 2999 I have recently come into possession of a certain ancient book... I had suspected its arcane nature long before I leafed through its aged pages. Passed down to me by virtue of the family line, this dusty tome held secrets far beyond my ken. The diagrams and pictures were mere teasings, ghost whispers in my willing ears. A sudden craving for knowledge consumed me, driving me to study in my vast library the texts that had led me down the occult path. I read grimoire after grimoire, books of dead names and authors driven mad by their experience of the supernatural. With each day came a new understanding, and with each new understanding, another passage would reveal its arcane secrets to me. Yet, with each new understanding came a new discovery, of another thing I'd yet to learn, a missing piece that kept me from seeing the entire picture. What could it be? What is it that I see so clearly before me? April 21, 3006 I have read the entirety of the tome, called "The Book of the Iron Tower". Its once arcane phrases are now well known to me, and I feel I am on the brink of a discovery unparalleled. The diagrams are clear - there is an inscription speaking of an ancient ritual, something of a "pact". It also says something about the "return of an avatar"... Fascinating. I assume that in the performance of this ritual, I may yet find some sort of greater truth about this book. It will take about a week to make the necessary preparations, but this seems as though it is the final step to discovering the secret of my lineage. I won't fail you, grandfather. April 28, 3006 The entire book makes sense... it was all so clear. I can't believe the things I hadn't seen before today. The words written in white ink, over the black, they form the words to spells... I no longer need to read them to cast them, they're burned into my mind, coming when bidden to my tongue. The darkness I saw today, sitting inside the burning candles and offerings, it spoke to me. It told me of a great upheaval, of a great fear in the people of earth. It spoke queerly of dark times to come, that these magics were given to me in order to prepare me... December 20, 3006 The tales of inquisition draw nearer by the day. I believe I may have been found out. It would have pained me to leave my home, my library, months ago. Months before I saw the hidden words in those books of arcane lore. Months before I communed with the very gods themselves, who urged me on - towards one final arcana. I've memorized the books of importance, and taken those of crucial import with me. I need to find the others with powers like mine. There has to be others. I can't be the only one who found the books... can I? Appearance: [IMG]http://www.deathstar.org/~krlipka/ps/sense/cast/jack2.jpg[/IMG] OOC: Apologies for going down the stereotypical "wizard" route. Let me know if I need to change Louis up a bit.

[B][I]Name:[/I][/B] Ingwaz "The Slayer" [B][I]Race:[/I][/B] Slythe [B][I]Elemental Boost:[/I][/B] Skill and Cunning [B][I]Job:[/I][/B] War Hero [B][I]Description:[/I][/B] A slight, tall man, clad in white and gold finery and wielding a strange, white parasol. In the daylight, he seems almost luminescent, giving off a steady, white glow (a rare and unusual aura for the Slythe, whose auras are usually chromatic and dark, more like shrouds). His hair is an implacable shade of white-blue, almost as striking as his steely blue eyes. His voice is soft and distant, and he talks infrequently. Though many would attribute this to the characteristic haughtiness of the Slythes, his distance in speech is a product of his years of experience on the battlefield. [B][I]Biography:[/I][/B] From the moment Ingwaz first emerged from his mother's womb, all those around him realized he was a rare child. His aura, the color of his skin, hair, and eyes, and his quiet disposition were alarming to his parents, who very soon realized their son would never be able to learn the art of thief-craft. Each time he attempted, his failure was assured by his bright, shining aura and instant recognition. At a young age, the Sapian army crushed his town, taking even the Slythe's consistently ready militia by the use of cunning strategy. Ingwaz escaped while both of his parents were slaughtered, and ran to the Slythe capital where he lived with his uncle. Realizing the child's potential and fascination with war-craft, his uncle trained him to become a powerful warrior, using tactics, skill, and speed to his advantage. As Ingwaz grew older, he grew tall and lean, his fighting style becoming compact and deadly. He began to garner the notice of the military academy, whose instructors invited him to a sparring tournament in which he soundly defeated the headmaster and the active portion of the instructors there. The pale, shimmering white warrior became a legend throughout the capital, and the emperor himself became intrigued with the tale. He summoned Ingwaz to his court, saw his skill in combat was unmatched by any of his personal retainers, and then immediately declared him the head of a military counterattack on the Sapian army, whose raids and encroachments on Slythe lands had decimated the size and population of the empire. Battles came and were won - a lengthy campaign against the Sapians brought back the Slythe lands, each falling back into Ingwaz's hands through impressive victories against impossible odds. Medals and high awards were piled onto Ingwaz, who very quickly became a hero, a rallying figure for the cause of all Slythe-kind. On his 23rd birthday, the Slythe victory was secured, and a treaty signed with the Sapian king. Ingwaz was named Lord General of the Slythe armed forces, and his name was writ into the annal of heroes. Among the ruling families of all races in Furilla, Ingwaz was respected, and was oft invited to courtly processions by all. He was admired for his beauty, and feared for his frightful cunning. However, his 25th year brought a strange message from the court's Grand Sorceror...

[quote name='MoyakuKeramushe']Just had a random thought, so I thought I'd pop it up in here. Would anyone be interested in an Old West RP, along the lines of Deadwood? And, if so, would anyone be interested in helping run it? I've never actually run a single-thread RP, and am honestly not sure where to begin (or even if it's that different from a full-forum RP). I, personally, think it would be a lot of fun (or I wouldn't've posted this). And it has the potential for a lot of complicated storylines as people's lives (past and present) criss-cross, etc. Needless to say, it'd be the kind of RP that comes with a mature content warning, as you can never be certain what you'll run into here. If this is in wrong forum or something, sorry. Just do what you do. [COLOR="Green"][size=1]This is exactly the right forum for this thread, don't worry. - Sandy[/size][/COLOR][/QUOTE] I'd love to try it out. Just let me know when it goes up.

[quote name='cancer'][SIZE="1"]Would anyone be interested in a fantasy-style RP? I'm talking about castles, dragons, elves, wizards and magic and all that. I'm working on one right now and would be willing to collaborate with someone on my ideas in order to make the story better. Let me know what you think.[/SIZE][/QUOTE] Not a big fan of high fantasy anymore. Unless you can really change things up and introduce some compelling dynamics, I'm not going to be very interested. However, let me know when it goes up so I can check it out, regardless.