Engel

[SIZE=1][color=#AFF2383]They say all's fair in love and war But what happens when people who don't know her can see her more? They don't love her like you do, care for her endlessly, want to hold her when things aren't so bright And yet, god allows them to get close to his one angel-on-earth, and you're stuck out in a cold night. You're so far away in terms of land, but when it comes to matters of the heart, no one is closer. And yet they can sit right next to her and hold idle chatter, get lost in her eyes, that's the clincher, the closer. Sometimes, after she leaves, and you know that she's going to a party with people you don't know, you feel like screaming. And have you ever noticed how easy it is to get lost in that emotion and come to conclusions that you won't happen, but you're still steaming? Of course you have, it boils in your blood. Any distance like yours, too far away to be with her always Running down into your room, tears welling up in your eyes, pounding your fist on the hallways. Shove the door open and lay down on your bed, biting your lip to keep those tears back. But in your heart, you know she's always going to come to you, come back. You feel worthless, you scream at the empty walls that she deserves someone better Your knuckles slam into the bedsprings, the walls, anything they can find, the pain is bitter. And once you're worn out, you realize that no one deserves her more than you. You don't love her out of physical reasons, even though that's what everyone else would do. You love her with all of your heart, you'd carry the sins of the world for one kiss. And if all of the people on earth turned on you, you'd still be in bliss. She means more to you than anything else ever could. So just sit back, we'll be together in time, because I love you more than anyone ever would. [/SIZE][/color]

[color=AFF2723][size=1]Archer slanted down into a premeditive combat pose, holding the blade a few inches above his head with a strong arm, his left leg arched forward and the right squared.He looked down at Cody and swore underneath his breath, and then turned around, letting the blade slip out of his fingertips and sink into the earth. It didnt' stop one it hit, instead it rose out in a flurry of a massive hand of sand, holding the blade like a butter knife. The sand melted out of the shape of a hand, instead wrapping around Archer slowly. He grinned softly. [b]"Come and taste what even the calmest earth has to offer, fools. Just because you're human doesn't mean I'll go easy on you. You've hurt one of my...friends."[/b] His breath was quite calm, his voice calm, almost happy. They didn't see it coming. They thought the blade had dissapeared, but instead, it shot out of the sand in a rain of a thousand steel fragments, each aimed at the group of enemies. They yelped and then managed to dive into the way of the trees, the shards sticking dangerously out of the ground and foilage. The sand quickly retreated back to Archer, laying inert at his feet. It was slightly...taxing to keep it going at all times, but he could raise it as quickly as he wanted to. The sand slowly began to swirl around his feet, rising up into a large, stone structure that slid into the shape of a large cleaving sword. It curved at the end into a wicked hook, the sand melting off of the edge to show a sort of bluish steel tint to the heavy stone. And yet, Archer lifted it easily. He bowed his head into a prayer before he ran forward, heaving up the large zweihander shaped sword in a battle cry, ready to take revenge on those that would dare to hurt his new companions.[/color][/size]

[color=#AFF2203][size=1]Archer looked at the group. It was coming together...nicely. Nicely. That's the word that he'd use. He allowed himself to relax and bathe in the company of these people who seemed to be friends he'd known for a lifetime. Unlike the fact that he'd just met these strange new people. He brought one hand up through his crimson hair, feeling the locks twisting and swaying in the wind against his fingertips. He let the hair fall back down softly, adjusting his polo shirt with a couple of tugs. [b]"My name's Archer Rindinson. From Toronto. Now, I'm wondering why we're all gathered here. For no apparant reason. But, since we have the time, I'd be interested in what all of you have for..."powers."[/b] Archer tasted the word on the tip of his tounge, swirling it around like a fine, delicate wine. He strechted one arm out slowly and held his palm face up. Slowly, slowly, and then a little quicker, sand began to pull itself out of the dirt and collect in a small swirling vortex the size of his palm. Archer formed it into a perfect sphere, and held it out. Without hesitation, Coco reached out and touched it with an index finger, expecting to pierce the skin of the sphere. Instead, his finger bent back with the amount of pressure he exerted. It was hard. Very hard. [b]"Huh. What are you, sand, earth, ground, somethin' like that?"[/b] One of them interjected. Archer didn't remember his name if he had said it. [b]"Earth. What about all of you?"[/b] Archer turned the cold and calm stare to them.[/color][/size]

[color=darkslategray][size=1]I guess there's no one else interested? if there is, I might start writing it while I have time. -Engel.[/color][/size]

[color=#AFF2203][size=1]As cold as can be, Archer left the bus, slipping off and hitting next on the iPod's pad. [i]Du bist, schizophren...[/i] it whispered into his ear as Archer walked up to a kid with light brownish blond hair and wide eyes. He was staring off into space...well, not space. At a young woman that had looks to ravish a normal man, he guessed. It didn't have any effect on Archer, as he was as calm and impersonal as could be. He tapped the kid on the shoulder. [b]"You're gaping."[/b] His voice was as smooth as quicksand, flowing over the young man and freezing him further. He didn't avert his gaze from the young woman. The figure in his pocket crumbled into sand and slid up his sleeve, forming into a small rotating spiral on his palm. He looked on at the guy for a moment. [b]"Who are you, and why are you running so far ahead of your...friends?"[/b] He said with slightest bit of hesitation. [b]"Is it for this girl here?"[/b] Archer could easily tell that they were probably as old as him, but compared to other people his age, he was rather mature. He swirled the sand, waiting for an answer. [i]You're sick in the head and I can see it..[/i][/color][/size]

[color=#AFF2203] [size=1]Archer sat back against the wall on his room, lazily watching the sand sift from the fish tank over to his hand, forming a small ball, about the size of a small rubber bouncy-ball, and plop down into his hand. He rolled it between his fingers. It was solid with the texture of fine sand. He clentched his fist closed and it didn't shift or sway or move. He smiled. [i]Elements. Gather at Matchell Park.[/i] Archer's head snapped up. The whisper was gone just as fast as it had came. His crimson hair brushed across his features, framing his face. He sighed gently and then stood up, moving the ball over to the fish tank and letting the sand release, slipping off of his fingers. His other hand found the dresser, opening it. Archer's slender fingers pulled out a light blue iPod mini. Slowly he placed the earphones in, and hit play, with the settings on shuffle. The song that happened to turn on was Enter Sandman. Archer afforded it a rare smile. It wasn't long before he was near the bus stop, leaning against the lamp post. There wasn't anyone else around. He allowed himself a small sigh of comfort, and picked up a pebble off of the ground. He rolled it around in his fingers and began to change the shape of the stone, forming it into a likeness of the lamp post. He smiled and then placed it in his back pocket. Archer nodded his head to the rythmitic beat, stepping up onto the first steps of the bus. He payed the driver the small fee and moved to the back, sitting down and looking at people with his steel blue eyes, his red hair framing his face. The polo shirt hung to hims loosely. He closed his eyes and sat back. Things were looking up.[/color][/size]

[color=darkslategray][size=1]I was thinking more of the War Front, y'know, PVP. And then something a bit different; cross faction raiding. Like a group of the RP's take a break from the constant fighting to band together and go do Molten Core or something because Ragnaros' forces broke out near Kargath and were travelling to Kharanos. Stuff like that. Open, but still having set objectives..[/color][/size]

[color=darkslategray][size=1]After having to re-install after an attempt to use MyWarcraftStudio to make my Orc into a Gnome, I watched the Opening Cinematic. The story is so rich, and the actual game (on PVP and Normal servers, at least) Stray so far away from the story. I want to make an RPG where it brings out the true story of WoW, and enhance it, and further it. Comments, please.[/color][/size]

[color=darkslategray][size=1] After having to re-install after an attempt to use MyWarcraftStudio to make my Orc into a Gnome, I watched the Opening Cinematic. The story is so rich, and the actual game (on PVP and Normal servers, at least) Stray so far away from the story. I want to make an RPG where it brings out the true story of WoW, and enhance it, and further it. Comments, please.[/color][/size]

[color=darkslategray][size=1][b]Name.:[/B] Zaraki Kenpachi, Eleventh Divison Captain. [b]Zanpakutoh.:[/b] Zaraki's Zanpakutoh is unique for several reasons. One, it has never told Zaraki what it's name was, therefore he can't go past his current tier of power. However, his Zanpakutoh is always in the First Release-Shikai-state, due to his immense spiritual pressure. He is unable to achieve Bankai, but that doesn't mean he can't hold his own against the other captains. [b]Normal Appearance.:[/b] The blade is long and jagged, the hilt is chipped and wrecked, wrapped in a thin white bandage. [b]Shikai and Bankai.:[/b] Zaraki's blade is always in Shikai state. Zaraki has not achieved Bankai yet. [b]Appearance.:[/b] [url=http://www.deviantart.com/deviation/33693966/?qo=60&q=Zaraki+boost%3Apopular+age_sigma%3A24h+age_scale%3A5]Here.[/url] Zaraki is a large man, taller than most and in physical terms, much stronger than any. His eyepatch is actually an energy draining creature to keep his spiritual pressure under controll so he doesn't instantly end fights. The bells on his hair are also another limiter, as a competent enemy can tell his position from the jingling. [b]Personality.:[/b] Rude, crash, and brutish would describe Zaraki Kenpachi. He lives for the fight, and the only opponent to match him on equal grounds so far has been Ichigo. His mouth is twisted into a cruel and bloodthirsty grin when he's enjoying the fight, which is almost always. However, he does have a spot spot for Yachiru, his lieutenant, who is almost like a daughter to him. However, he becomes annoyed easily if someone attempts to mess with his squad. No matter how rude, he is a good captian.[/color] [b]OOC:[/b] Sorry, Zeke, that it took so long. >.< Been busy.[/size]

[color=#AFF2203][size=1][b]Name:[/b] Archer Rindinson. [b]Age.:[/b] 17. [b]Gender.:[/b] Male. [b]Appearance.:[/b] Calm and seemingly uncaring, his [url=http://img201.imageshack.us/img201/8371/gaaragq0.jpg]appearance[/url] betrays his nature. His eyes are deep and calm with a steel blue tint that gives him a glassy and yet hard stare. His features are soft, and he is relatively strong, but not overly muscled. Although he often spends time outside, more so than inside, his skin refuses to darken. He attracts attention when he doesn't want any by his stark red hair that stands out. It's both good and bad attention, but that doesn't mean he wants any. He usually wears a polo t-shirt with red and white or blue and white stripes, or button up shirts with a number of different designs. Along with that, Archer wears slightly baggy blue or black jeans at most time, and always a strange golden bracelet on his left wrist, along with a tibetian ring with a rosy coloured garnet on his right ring finger. [b]Element.:[/b] Earth. [b]Starting Ability.:[/b] Archer can form small figures of sand and stone, or make a perfect, but small sphere out of the sand and dirt to use as something to throw. The power is weak, and he mainly uses it to bring a sort of bored amusement to himself if nothing's happening at the moment. [b]Why?:[/b] Archer was believed to be chosen for the Earth element because of his calm and steady personality, withstanding tradgety and harm and doing what he can for his fellow people. He often spends his free time either exploring the earth and taking calm walks, allowing himself to be immersed in the nature and wholeness of it all, or looking out at his surroundings and drawing what he sees, enjoying the natural beauty of the world.[/color][/size]

[color=darkred][size=1][i]Knock. Knock. Knock. Ssssht.[/i] Soft footsteps and the opening of a sliding door made of rice paper and bamboo was two of three hints that [i]he[/i] was coming. The other was the large hair around him which was known as his spirtual pressure. It would bear down on your shoulders and force you to your knees if you weren't strong enough. The silvered hair man was, quite unsurprisingly, sitting up on the floor crosslegged and sipping on sake. He didn't move as the large figure slipped into the room, didn't flinch as the weight of his spiritual pressure bared down on him. Instead, he turned around with a small glass. [b]"Sake, Ken-kun?"[/b] Kenpachi looked at the silver-haired figure with a look of contempt as he grinned and took the glass in two fingers, shooting it back and crushing it in his fingertips. The shards fell harmlessly to the floor. [b]"Wipe that damn'd fox grin off yer face before I slice if off, Gin. Bloody coward, yeh ran away from the combat n' all in Soul Society, and yeh didn't stop that Ichigo fella from gainin' access. Are yeh afraid of dyin' or sommat?" "Why does Ken-kun want to know, eh? I'm 'ust enjoying sake and you 'ave to come in an' break my glass after I offer yeh some sake. Where are your manners, Ken-kun~?"[/b] Zaraki Kenpachi, captian of the 11th division and the most bloodthirsty creature on either side of the looking glass, smiled. [b]"If yer not fraid o' dyin', meet me 'ere."[/b] Zaraki dug his hand into a pocket and pulled out a white piece of paper with the place written on it. He dropped it on the low-sitting table and with three more steps-[i]knock knock knock[/i]-he was out of the doorway with a leap.[/color][/size][color=darkslategray][size=1] [b]This is a spar between Ezekiel and I. Have fun watchin'. If you're not Zeke or me, don't post in the thread. =D[/b] [center] [u][b]Character information.[/b][/u] [b]Name:[/b] Simple enough. Full name preferred, may also add the rank. [b]Zanpakutoh:[/b] Name, special functions, design. Simple. [b]Shikai and Bankai:[/b] The first and second release of your Zanpakutoh. Describe. =D [b]Appearance.:[/b] No comment. [b]Personality:[/b] What type of disposition does your character have? Eh?![/enter] [If there's anything else, let me know either here, in a PM, or on MSN. Have fun with your sign up, Zeke. I'll get mine up after your's.][/color][/size][/center]

[color=darkslategray][size=1][i]Click click click. Szzzz...[/i] Aixarael's guitar hummed to life, the amplifier by the bedstand giving a few clicks and humming quietly. Slipping it over his shoulder, he began to strum lightly on the strings, sending out a reverbation through his walls in The Castle that Never Was. It started out low and soft, dark undertones mixed with something a little more sinister. He began to pluck and strum faster, more sharp and yet fluid movements along the neck, choking sounds out of the strings. Eventually, his fingers were going too fast to tell where they were, the sound of music filling his quarters. He only stopped when one of the Dancers phased through the wall, movements graceful and swift. [i]Master Aixarael...a Dusk requests your attention.[/i] [b]"Don't suppose I can say no?"[/b] [i]The message is from Master Onix...so I'm guessing that's a no.[/i] A mockery of a smile slid across Aixarael's face, the Dancer's lips making the exact same shape. [b]"Let him in, I guess."[/b] The Dancer gave a sweeping bow and told the Dusk to enter, but make it quick. It slid into the room carefully, addressing him with a short and sharp nod. [i]Master Onix requests your presence in the Chamber of Dying Echoes for an-[/i] Aixarael had begun to play again, and the Dusk slid back, straining against the sound, thrashing around before it managed to escape the raidus of the guitar's effect. [b]"Message recieved."[/b] Aixarael gave a dark smile as he stood, pulling his hood halfway up and exiting the room, two of the Dancers following in a graceful entorage. Disturbing his alone time was annoying enough, and sending in a mere Dusk didn't make it much better. Though...this meeting might be kind of...enjoyable. Aixarael's fingers closed around the strap of the guitar, his cainine tooth baring down into the flesh of his lip in a wicked grin.[/color][/size]

[color=darkslategray][size=1][b]Original Name.:[/b] Aerial. [b]Order Name.:[/b] Aixarael (Aicks-ar-ael.) [b]Number.[/b] VI. [b]Codename.:[/b] The Desecration Smile. [b]Element.:[/b] Soul. [b]Weapon.:[/b] Aixarael is the odd man of the group. He doesn't like the use of sharp weapons, instead enjoying the dull, blunt feel of using your strength and not borrowed strength of an edged weapon. In that case, it should come as no surprise that his weapon is in fact, a guitar. Cherry red with a single stripe of black running along the body in a curved shape, almost like a smile, the symbol of the Nobody lies at the very base of the guitar, in it's heart. Sometimes, Aixarael will undo a string and use it as a cutting tool, either flesh or a number of other materials. [b]Nobody.:[/b] The Dancers. Quick, strong, agile. If encountered in groups, they're vicious and dangerous. They're quite evasive, quick and sineous, their attacks aren't as strong as they are swift. But like they say, death by a thousand cuts. [b]Appearance.:[/b] [url=http://img237.imageshack.us/img237/3325/rhckv5.jpg][Aixarael.][/url] (Done by Howlinghorse on DeviantArt). Platinum blond hair with silver streaks, Aixarael is what most would consider "Handsome". His body is light and agile, but his arms tough and hard. His skin is on the more pale side, his eyes a deep dark blue-silver that seem to look into your soul and ask what you have in mind. His appearance is chilling to most, even others in the group. Something about his collective figure seems to put them on edge. [b]Personality.:[/b] The Desecration Smile is a charmer, to be simple. His tounge could be considered pure silver, his lips quiet and soft, but almost as deadly as the edge of a knife against your throat. His lips seem to always be curved into a slight smile, his platinum-blond hair hanging over his eyes as he grinds his will deep into your soul. Dispite this seemingly cruel and manipulating exterior, Aixarael does care about the other members of the organization, Onix in paticular. He'd do anything to protect Onix or Marax, or Kaxkel, or anyone else from the orgainzation. Aixarael often uses his charm to manipulate feelings, but relying on his Element when his charisma fails. Rumor has it that Aerial fell victim to the darkness from every cold night alone in a hotel room with just his emotions and a guitar as his companions. Too many restless nights and too many forgotten days...[/color][/size]

[QUOTE=DeathKnight][color=crimson]Alright Jaja, there you go. Sakura, Engel I hope neither of you mind my [strike]mis[/strike]use of your characters.[/color][/QUOTE] [color=darkslategray][size=1]I liked your portral of Zerstoren. =3 It showed his non...eh...chaotic psycho "I know what's best for myself not you" kind of thing. Sometimes he lets his emotions run free when people do stuff stupid. [b]Zeke:[/b] Whee~. Glad to see it'll be started soon. =o[/color][/size]

[color=darkslategray][size=1]Mmm, just wondering if it was okay that I had 2 (Technically 3...) extra weapons. >___> You didn't say a limit on how many we could have.[/color][/size]

[color=darkslategray][size=1][b]Name.:[/b] Zerstoren Maskau. (Zherst-oh-Ren Mask-kaoo) [b]Age.:[/b] 27. [b]Gender.:[/b] Male. [b]Race.:[/b] Malroy. [b]Occupation.:[/b] Swordsmith. [b]Positon.:[/b] New General of the Malroy army. [b]Weapon.:[/b] Although Zerstoren is a master of all forms of combat, he either sticks to one of three weapons. A polearm, dual wield one handed axes, or his katana. He usually carries one to two weapons on his person at all times, though people say there is little need. [u]Eisbrecher.[/u] Translated as Iceshatter, this is the large polearm he usually wears strapped to his back. The shaft is all one piece of metal, obviously worked with care and love and precision. It leads up into three blades in a triangle like formation, each sharply honed and pointed. Several words and symbols are etched into the prongs, each still glowing red like it was fresh out of the fire. [u]Eifersuhct & Sehnsucht.[/u] Jealousy and Desire, the twin axes that are often crossed as an X on his back. The blades are smooth and sharp, sharp enough to split a hair straight in half if you were to just drop them down on the blades. Eifersucht bears three spikes on the end of the handle, while Sehnsucht wears the spikes along certain points of the actual blade. Each are both runed with the same symbols as Eisbrecher. [u]Schtiel.[/u] The one weapon he always carries with him, that's never left his person since he crafted it, Schtiel. The whole blade was said to of been dipped in the blood of the already dead and purified by the Mage General her/himself (Waiting for you to specify, Zeke.). The runes are of the same design, but instead an ice blue color and most strikes seem to send the air into a frenzy, causing lighting to snap at his opponent's body with each fluid thrust, strike, swing, parry. Anything that involves a harmful action. Schtiel means Calm, or Calm Wind, an oxymoron if you will. [b]Appearance.:[/b] [url=http://img280.imageshack.us/img280/6683/heavenorheleditye9.jpg]Zerstoren.[/url] The clothes seen in the picture are his General's uniform, he usually wears a combonation of a simple black t-shirt and a pair of loose blue jeans. His eyes are a silver-blue style, his features soft and kind at times, hard and cruel, unforgiving at other times. [EDIT: Changed the picture. He's more...shmeful. That's a word. Picture copyright [url=http://meisan.deviantart.com/]*Meisan[/url]. ] [b]Personality.:[/b] Brilliant, enigmatic, physical, kind, merciful. Those five words are what Zerstoren lives by, beliving it to be five pillars of strength that anyone with a code of ethics should live by. An academic success, he loves all sort of books from war strategies to fictional books ready purely for enjoyment. Zerstoren makes sure to keep his body in fit physical shape as well, but that's kind of a given seeing as what his job is. Quick to act on a good impulse, he often makes up a battle plan as he goes because things can change rather rapidly on the battlefield. At times, he's been known for extreme gestures of kindness to random people, and has more than once spared an enemy on the battlefield if they didn't have their heart into the battle. [b]Writing Snippit.:[/b] [b]"General, I advise we-"[/b] [b]"I know what we should do, soldier. If you wish to second guess me, go sign up as a tactician. We need more...pacifists, shall we say."[/b] [b]"This is a war and you're saying we need pacifists?! What the hell, are you crazy?"[/b] [b]"Quite possibly."[/b] Zerstoren turned around, his eyes cold and precise. They stared the young solider down, piercing into his soul. The soldier met his gaze for mere seconds before snapping away, his hands trembling. Zerstoren slipped his fingers down to Schtiel, resting on the sharkskin hilt before he spun around, drawing the blade from it's sheath and slicing the map in half in one fluid motion. In a matter of five seconds, paper scraps were fluttering around the room. [b]"Fools! The battle is not turn based, you don't have all the time in the world to prepare. Instead of training new recruits we're standing here scribbling things on pieces of paper that will ultimately change in the tide of battle! Now, you all go out to the training grounds with Instructor Razuvious for extra training and sparring practice. I'll make up the battle plan when the battle comes."[/b] Zerstoren spun softly on his heel, sheathing the blade as he dismissed the group. Walking out of the War Quarter carefully, he fingered the hilt of Schtiel, his dirty platinum blond hair lying still on his shoulders. [b]"We do need stratigests...but not now. Right now we need people who actually know how to fight a war so we can direct them when the time comes. We can't have a bunch of launchies on the battlefield, they'd act as merely a road bump. I hope Razuvious isn't too hard on them. That man can be brutal."[/b] One gloved finger traced the sharkskin gently, drawing small spirals down the length as Zerstoren slipped the blade out gently, tracing finger down it gently and lovingly. He let it slip back into the sheath, turning around and stalking his way over to the Military Ward, but snapped head around when he heard the familiar squish and wet thud of a punch. He grit his teeth, eyes flaring. He came up on the two, reaching behind his back and unstrapping Eisbrecher. He held it lightly in his right hand, speaking in a quiet but commanding voice. [b]"You two. Up, off the ground, now."[/b] They stopped mid punch, lowering their hands turning to him. Who the hell was this guy, dressed in black and...wielding a gigantic polearm? Immediately, the two backpedaled, realizing who they were looking at by his weapons alone. Zerstoren sighed softly and looked at them, twirling the blade around quite easily. The metal stung the air, and just as quickly as he had advanced on them, Eisbrecher was hilted into the ground as Zerstoren decended upon them. [b]"You two need to take your petty problems off the street and refrain from beating the crap out of each other. I won't have it on these streets and I'm sure the Mage General wouldn't like it too much either."[/b] They looked at each other, slumping down softly as they nodded, turning around and making their ways back home. [b]"When I took the position I didn't think that I'd have to be a babysitter either..."[/b] Zerstoren chuckled softly to himself, relacing the polearm on his back and making his way home.[/color][/size]

[color=darkslategray][size=1]Akujo sighed lazily, playing with the black brim of his hat and fingering Alresh's blade. He was almost a legendary player in terms of his combat abilites. He was a canditate for Game Master. He turned it down. Having all of that power and authority would cease to make the game fun. You want the challenge, the love of charging into the battle and being better than your enemy without anyone's help. He drew a line across his hat and looked up at the digital sky. A bird flew above. Rising to his feet, Akujo accesed his inbox. [i]Buy Free Money Here![/i] -[b]Deleted.[/b] [i]EVENT![/i] [i]How's it been? (Author: Isadora)[/i] - [b]Saved for later viewing.[/b] It wasn't long before he deleted all of the useless messages and read what he wanted to. He opened up the one about the Event. He'd participated in these before, and his second one was how he won his Legendary sword. It had been so long since he won one, he was due for something. [center][b]"Event! The Event today is Hide and Go Seek. I have hidden a small copper coin, the size of a toenail, somewhere in EVIO. Your job is to find it and return it to me. Feel free to get into groups to look for it. While this event is in progress, all PvP (player versus player) will be disabled and anyone participating has been granted a mount for the time being. If you are of the Fire Faction, you will recieve the Tribal Dog. Water Faction members will get a Water Serpent. A Gryphon will belong to you Wind-users and Earth Faction players will recieve a Rock Ram. Finally, players of the Light Faction will get a Unicorn and Shadow followers will get a Demon Horse. To get your mount, sign-up at the nearest list in your local city and log out. When you log back in, your mount will be waiting for you in your bank. Also, I have hidden 4 fake Copper Coins. They look identical to the other one, but are not one in the same. Handing in one of these will grant you the ability to keep your mount."[/b][/center] Akujo looked at the sky again as rainclouds began to move over, clouding the skies with a sense of peace. He gave a sly, canine smile and easily lifted Alresh, strapping it to his back. Calmly and confidently, he walked onwards towards the city of the Fire element, Vlanor. It wasn't long before he signed up, and then sat down, logging out after about twenty seconds. ~~~~ Stretching, Sean got up and moved to the fridge, grabbing a drink and an apple. He ate, savoring the taste, before he logged back in, immersing himself back in the game. ~~~~ Akujo sifted through his inventory to find the item [i][Horn of the Swift Tribal War Dog][/i]. He pulled it out and gave it a sharp blow, watching a sleek black wolf-like creature with crimson eyes and patches of red plate armor in places. He swung one leg over it and the wolf turned around to nuzzle his muzzle into Akujo's hand. He gave it a soft pat and grinned. He trotted it over to a LFG board, pulling out a piece of paper. [center][b]Akujo-Fire Fighter w/Alresh, Greatsword of the Titan LFG for EVENT. Able fighter and able tanker. PST.[/b][/center] Akujo backed away, satisfied as he led the Tribal Dog over to the Craftmans's District. He decided to craft some armor out of the items he had picked up. Someone would want some Titanic Leggings somewhere...and he needed the money.[/color][/size] [b]OOC:[/b] Anyone can feel free to team up with Akujo. If you were wondering, he has a one handed sword and shield for "tanking" enemies, too.

[size=1][color=darkslategray][b]Name.:[/b] Sean Lindenmann. [b]Birthdate.:[/b] January 14th, 2004. [b]Gender.:[/b] Male. [u]Character.[/u] [b]Username.:[/b] Akujo. [b]Appearance.:[/b] [url=http://hyung-taekim.org/displayimage.php?album=18&pos=12]Sean/Akujo.[/url] Instead of the crossbow on his back, Sean is pretty much identical to Akujo, if only a few cosmetic differences such as eye color and the tattoo on his ankle. In not-so-recent times, Akujo has replaced his Crossbow with a Two handed sword. [b]Faction.:[/b] Fire. [b]Class.:[/b] Fighter. [b]Weapon.:[/b] Akujo wields a weapon untrue to his bodily proportions. The blade starts with a tip that is broad and almost triangular, the tip of it white. As it curves in and gets rougher and more crimson red. At the end, the blade juts out to the left and right, and by then, the blade has become so crimson red it looks like the blade was dipped in the blood of the innocents. Akujo calls this the "Alresh, Grandsword of the Titan." [list] [*][u]Charge.[/u]: In one swift, fluid movement, Akujo tears the sword from his back and takes two steps forward, traversing a distance anywhere from eight to thirty yards in his two steps. The sudden impact of the blade can manage to stun the target for a few seconds [*][u]Recklessness.:[/u] Akujo seems to be filled with rage, his adrenaline pumping and beating throughout his body as he swings Alresh around with skill and speed with only one hand, yet it hits harder than most people do with both. His strikes are more precise and painful, his senses sharpened, and his ability to sense pain shortened. [*][u]Retaliation.:[/u] [i]The best offense is a good defense.[/i] With a seemingly unknown purpose, Akujo stalls all of his attacks and sits still, crouched and ready for an attack. During this time, he makes it his job to parry and counterattack, never launching one of his own. This is most likely to wear the enemy down so he can take them down with one strike. [*][u]Sweeping Strikes.:[/u] With a headlong charge, Akujo slashes in a wide arc from the left and to the right, which is usually enough to sever anything in his way. He can keep this up for a few yards, usually about nine to ten, and then he has to stop because there's no more open ground. [/list] [b]Skill Level.:[/b] Sean has been playing since the first day of release, as he always enjoyed the series. He plays whenever he has a chance, which is when he's not out running track or hanging out with friends or sleeping. He believes that staying fit also has a personal reflection on the game and how people will react to him. And not to mention the fact he loves track almost as much as he enjoys playing EO.[/color][/size]

[color=#AFF3210][size=1] Nobunga swirled the few remnants of the herbal tea around in the cup and looked at it with one eye before quickly tipping it back and setting it down with a large [i]clink.[/i] [b]"Now that is some nasty shit."[/b] He ran a hand through the dark mop that was his hair and looked at a few odd strands, longer than the rest. Holding them up, he reached up with his prostheic arm and simply brought the sharp metal down on the hairs, slicing them from the rest of his head. He picked them up and looked at them with a small degree of interest, eyes half shut before he put them in the cup and rose. Heading to the sink, he glanced back at Nohime. [b]"They'd probably make the tea taste better."[/b] She gave him a look that was calm and annoyed at the same time. Nobunga washed out the cup, and walked back to sit down by Nohime. [b]"Another fun filled day at the Oda household..."[/b] He rolled his eyes to show he was being sarcastic, but he figured Nohime would pick up on that anyway. Arching his back, he stretched and flexed his joints softly. He hated to admit it, but that damned tea did help early in the morning. He leaned forward, the black fabric hanging loosely from his legs and brushing up against the silk of her kimono. Without thinking, he reached up and played with one of the pins in her hair. Nobunga didn't see the point of getting all dressed up, especially being his wife, as they'd probably fight either each other or someone else a day. [b]"Your arm is bleeding, dear."[/b] Nohime tapped the obsidian shell lightly with one long fingernail. Lazily, he looked down to see a teardrop of blood sliding down his shoulder, tracing the confines of his chest down to the small, abstract tattoo. Rising, Nobunga found a roll of bandage and unwrapped the soiled ones from his left arm, turned away from Nohime. She may of been his wife, but he wouldn't show weakness in front of her. Slowly and painstakingly, he re-wrapped the arm after cleaning out the cause of the blood with iodine and a few herbs. Again, he sat down easily on the floor, his deep red eyes finally waking up. Something wasn't right. A soft "tap tap tap" on the rooftop. Rain? Nobunga and Nohime could both agree on something; rain was wonderful, calming, and fulfilling. It brought a sense of peace. Affording a quick glance out, he saw that it was indeed raining. However, something was off. Rain had a pattern to it. He closed his eyes in a level of concentration and heard it. Whoever was on the roof was making an attempt to keep with the pattern of the rain, but a trained ear can hear the tiniest difference. It also made music a bit more enjoyable. [b]" 'Hime-chan, I think we have a visitor."[/b][/color][/size]

[color=darkslategray][size=1][b]Name.:[/b] Akujo Myouga. [b]Age.:[/b] 19. [b]Gender.:[/b] Male. [b]Apperance.:[/b] [url=http://img212.imageshack.us/my.php?image=calintz0pn.jpg]Akujo.[/url] Sporting a strange fashion sense and a carefree attitude, Akujo wears things that will set him aside from everyone else. His hair is either worn spiked back or lying straight down, and his emerald eyes sparkle with a mist of knowledge and wisdom not often seen in younger people. Two large diamond shaped leather pads hang from his shirt, protecting his legs and providing a channel for his chakra for some of his more complex maneuvers. [b]Alliance.:[/b] Kohona. [b]Weapons.:[/b] [i]Shinkon-Saku (Soulflayer).[/i] A sword with no true end to the blade or true beginning of the hilt, it is forged out of one solid piece of metal and reinforced with several other rare and precious ores. A long crimson ribbon floats around the blade even with no wind, adding more and more to the mystery of the blade. [Seen in the picture.] [i]Harienju (Black Locust).[/i] This weapon is, if possible, even stranger. It seems to be attached to Akujo's hand in the midst of battle and dissapears after. A three pronged claw weapon with three blades as black as the abyss, it becomes an extension of his own body, though Akujo's unconcious mind dictates when and where [i]Harienju[/i] is good to be used. His hand, when using it, looks disfigured and mutated into a thick and chitnous talon, with the three blades. Often, Akujo carries a few shiruken and kunai with him, and often a few vials of "homebrewed" poison. [b]Personality.:[/b] Witty, aware, clever, dark. So many things about Akujo that are in the shadow, besides his personality. Quick to strike with either word or blade, he'll take any opportunity to take a cheap shot at someone insulting him. Looking for weak spots in their personality at the same time, he's cold and precise if he thinks it'll boil down to battle. Otherwise, he can be as warm and charming as possible if they're an ally or even a random passerby. However, he has a tendancy and love for fighting, most ninja should. If one of his friends were to be in danger, however, he would rush to their aid, which is ironic as his last name means Protector. [b]Biography/Character Snippit.:[/b] [b]"You oughtta go back to suckin' off yer dadd-"[/b] [b]"I don't live to inspire your fantasies, sir."[/b] Akujo shot him a sharp look and the patron of the Swaying Leaf pub looked at him with a face. Then he burst out laughing, spraying beer in Akujo's face. Rolling his eyes, he calmly wiped it from his forehead and eyes, throwing the rag over the bar and to the bartender, that soon caught it. And then he threw a punch into the man who had insulted him and covered him with beer. A cheap brand, which added insult to...insult. He staggered, staggered...tripped back and dropped his beer. That made him mad. Akujo grinned softly and put up his hands, flicking his wrist lightly. [b]"C'mon, barfight, 'sgo. You got some beer in my hair so I'll get some blood on your clothes, mkay?"[/b] The drunkard rushed at him with amazing force, but Akujo sidestepped and delivered a light kick to his stomach as he went past. Now, you see here, this is where the drunk guy gets pissed and decides to do something [i]stupid.[/i] Whipping around, the patron growled and pulled out two blades, finely crafted, that emaniated a touch of his chakra. [b]"Yer gunnah whishshshs...err...hope...yer ash was never born!"[/b] The man looked almost comically confused before he suddenly charged Akujo again. Looking the man in the eyes, Akujo put his hand forward on the tip of the blade. Only... [b]"Whut the hell ish up wit' yer hand?!"[/b] Akujo had stopped the man's assult with Harienju, and casually, Akujo pulled his sleeve to reveal that it wasn't just a weapon, it was his own hand. A seal lay on his right arm that was glowing softly in rhythm with the pulsing of small crimson lines on the blades of Harienju. He flicked his hand once, twice, and the fight was over. The swords lay severed in half and the man stood there, grasping two useless pieces of cloth and metal. Finishing off his drink, Akujo rose up and exited the bar, squeezing out his hair as he went. --- Akujo was born and raised as a hell-raiser. Of the fancy type. He was tought to confuse the enemy with wordplay and cut them down while they tired to figure out what they ment. By the age of six, Akujo had figured out his first and foremost weapon, the Harienju. He doesn't have a select few or one rival, he sees anyone with combat potential that isn't a friend as a deadly rival. That is, until he knocks them down into their proper place. [b]Techniques.:[/b] [u]Tengoku Kekkai. (Heaven-shatter)[/u]. This is a Chakra based attack in which either or both weapons are surrounded with Akujo's chakra and launch sonic waves localized into an extremely strong blast upon contact with anything from flesh to metal. [u]Doruikinzoku (Earth-Metal, Summon technique.)[/u] Summons an Earth-based dragon, Neltharias, to attack Akujo's enemies and heal mediocre wounds with the power of the earth. This, however, drains Akujo's chakra intensely as long as he keeps it up. He can keep it up for up to six minutes before it completely drains him. [u]Senbonkuzen (Rose Garden):[/u] This is an extremely strong technique that requires self sacrifice. Akujo actually spills his own blood and fortifies it with his Chakra, solidifying it. He has direct control over these blood-shards, and can surround himself in a mist of them if needed. [u]Hayai Katsuu (Swift Divide.):[/u] Akujo collects Chakra around his feet and launches himself off at intense speed in one direction, which enables him to slice through most and any materials with his Shinkon-Saku or Harienju. [b]Fighting Style.:[/b] Quick, efforless, and painless. Akujo prefers to end fights quick, but if they drag on, he is also an endurance fighter. Preferring to strike with full force and not pull back as to cause instant death or defeat, he doesn't defend much at all. Some call this technique suicidal, he calls it mercy. If aggrivated, he can also prolong a person's death through use of the senbokuzen or many small and painful nicks and cuts with Harienju's talons.[/color][/size]

[color=darkslategray][size=1][b]Name.:[/b] Oda Nobunaga. [b]Nickname.:[/b] The Obsidian Destroyer, the Unscarred, Severfang, and Shoui the Heartless. [b]Gender.:[/b] Male. [b]Age.:[/b] 27. [b]Half/Full.:[/b] Full. [b]Apperance.:[/b] Oda is a man of quick wit and posture. Slim built and lithe, able to slide through the cracks, he hides immense strength. A metal gauntlet serves as his left arm, which was never there in the first place from birth. It serves him well as a weapon and as an actual prosthetic hand. Deep crimson eyes and a wolfish stare entrances everyone that looks on, and he's as mystifying as a fox. He also usually never wears a shirt, preferring to wear the abstract tattoo on his chest instead. A metal collar adorns the Unscarred's neck with two links and a broken link, which betrays his reputation as the Unscarred. Often he wears bandages as a tribute to those that have died in battle to him. He may be ruthlesss on a battlefield, but he has a sense of honor and respect. A photograph was taken of him not long ago. [url=http://img100.imageshack.us/img100/865/albel04211zo.jpg]Click here.[/url] [b]Weapon of Choice.:[/b] [u]Black Grasp of the Destroyer:[/u] The metal prosthetic he wears is one of his main weapons. Built out of solid steel and large chunks of obsidian, this has given him a notorius reputation for ripping people to shreds on a field of war. This is also the cause of the name Severfang, as of the many life lines and familes he's strung apart from those that have willingly attacked him. [u]Soulflayer:[/u] The katana he wields in his right hand is also a useful weapon. Plain and simple, it is nevertheless a sharp and stainless weapon. Rimmed with a touch of obsidian crystals and adorned with a pristine black diamond on the hilt, the sharkskin used gives Oda an excellent grip and is relisistant to the stain of blood. [b]Personality.:[/b] Cold, calculating, fearless. The true warrior, he says little and does much. Actions may speak louder than words, but the words that Oda says are often much more meaningful than any others spoken. Able to silence a room with a simple word, he commands respect and athority. He doesn't care much for anyone around him, not even his wife Nohimie. He took her for convienience, and maybe he has some love and respect for her, but if he does, it's deeply buried. Love to a woman is nothing next to the love of the battle for him.[/color][/size]

[color=darkslategray][size=1] Wewt, 3 people want to see me! /superglomp. Anyway, onto the main point of this post. [b]Epsilon.:[/b] Oh how the two years we've been together have passed so peacefully. Sweet, kind, funny, and extremely beautiful. You might think "Oh, he's just doing this because she did it too." Actually, I've been too lazy to do it, but now I want to. She doesn't really know how much I adore her, and how much she's gotten me through. Not to mention, she's an extremely talented graphical artist, and taught me most of what I know.

[color=darkslategray][size=1][i]I think it's time we dip our pen into the ink of the unknown...[/i] [b]Name.:[/b] Kristos Augur. However, prefers to be called "Char" because of his hair colour. [b]Age.:[/b] 27. (Twenty seven.) [b]Gender.:[/b] Male. [b]Alliance.:[/b] Has ties to the shadow side, but doesn't consider himself part of anything. Will still fight for his "country." [b]Hometown.:[/b] Anub-Kherban in the far off Ossirian deserts somewhere just east of the capitol of the Shadow land. [b]Weapons.:[/b] Kristos is a simple man with not-so-simple weapons. For one, his hands are each runed with several figures that imbue the burning heat of fire and the dark heart of steel at the same time. The gloves he wears are also often home to secret poisons from mind numbing to crippling to instant. If his fists fail him, Kristos is also seen using his own hand crafted swords. He calls them the "Ashkandi" and the "Ashbringer". Together, they make what he loves to call the "Seething Flames of Hatred." [b]Gift.:[/b] Kristos has the ability to summon flames from the nether, twisting them around as if they were extensions of his own body. It requires no sort of stress upon him, as he's played with this ability since he discovered it, and come to master it. The fire is either Pure or Seething, depending what he wishes it to do. Pure can relieve the stress of his allies and damage his enemies, while the Seething is much more rare, often tinged grey and red at the same time. This attack wounds not the flesh, but the soul. [b]Biography.:[/b] Kristos Augur. Born twenty seven years ago, soon to be twenty eight. Bestowed upon a simple couple in the middle of a town in a desert halfway in the middle of nowhere, he was their blessing. They were told they would not be able to have children, and yet they defied nature and made Kristos. They named him Kristos; savior. However, in the land of Shadow, that name would lead to much ridicule. And let's not forget, hatred. At the age of nine years old, Kristos would march into his home with his eyeball nearly hanging out of his socket and blood seeping from his wounds like tears from a new widow. He said that he had been beaten by the local soldiers for defying them when they wanted him to do something stupid. That was also the day he discovered his "Gift." He used it to claim revenge on those that would dare to hurt him or any other innocent bystander for not doing something when told to. People grew to fear Kristos, and so he used his remaining time to forge his weapons and leave Anub-Kherban for greener pastures. Well, actually, any pasture would do as the desert is desolate and unforgiving. Since then, Kristos has been traveling around the world and using his Gift to help and kill those who deserved what came to them. [b]Personality.:[/b] Kristos is a level headed young man with a firey spirit. Able to keep cool when he wants, he often opts to "Beat the **** out of you" and ask questions later. Wanting to make the world a better place because of his origins, he will always help someone in need, no matter what faction they belong to. He wants to stop the fighting and keep this land at peace, even if he knows in his heart it won't happen. [b]Apperance.:[/b] [url=http://hyung-taekim.org/displayimage.php?album=18&pos=12]Kristos.[/url] Usually wearing the same clothes, Kristos washes them daily. However, he does wear his twin blades across his back in an x-shape, for easy withdrawl. Kristos also carries a black and white inverse colour of the shirt seen and a pair of black pants with the same emblem. [b]Character Snippit.:[/b] [Will Edit.][/color][/size]

[quote name='dumbdorkbob']I wish for bunnies to rule a world with no humans.[/quote] [color=darkslategray][size=1]Wewt! You now have a world where bunnies rule a world with no humans. However, the overpopulated species is now quickly turning rabid and dying off in droves from the lack of food and general care. Grats. Now the world belongs to Bill Gates, who isn't human in the first place, and cockroaches. I want to be able to live the rest of my life with Rodrica Lei Cogle, and lead a successful life as a hardworking writer with no crimes commited, and three children who are always perfectly healthy except for the occiasional influenza and cold.[/color][/size]