Juke Box Hero

[QUOTE=DeadSeraphim][COLOR=Indigo][size=1][FONT=Arial] MAYBE YOU AMERICAN TYPES SHOULD LEARN HOW TO SPELL THEN, HUH? [I]YOU'RE KIND OF THE MINORITY ON THE NO U IN COLOR FRONT[/I]. In conclusion, all Americans are incompetent illiterates.[/FONT][/SIZE][/COLOR][/QUOTE] Incompetant illiterates who have singlehandedly saved the world from utter disaster more than a few times. Hell, erase us and the rest of y'all won't be saying color at all, 'cause you'd be speaking German.

The whole question is not the harmful effects of drugs and or alchohol. The question has to address whether or not someone can use a substance in moderation, to be enjoyed but not enslaved to. While heroin and cocaine seem to be rather harsh masters, many people can enjoy tobacco and alchohol without losing themselves. Smoking causes cancer. Absolutely. Who cares? Not me. Everyone will die, so why spend the brief moments you have on earth crusading against something that may make it easier for someone else to get through their life. No one makes you become a smoker, although some find the craving too much to overcome by will, some also don't make it into the Navy SEALs or the Special Forces. I really begin to wonder about people who fight so hard against smoking, it seems to me that the majority of them do so for self validation, rather than true dedication to that cause. Like many homosexual advocates who appear to feel the need to validate themselves by making grand, dramatic protests about their sexual "orientations", anti-tobacco crusaders often seem to push their views upon others simply because they know they haven't to strength to smoke for pleasure. What weakness! It is simply unfathomable to me to break someone else's privilege and happiness simply because you can't follow their path. Not everyone is special, not everyone will live the same way. I can respect a man who says, "I don't smoke." or "I'm gay." or whatever, and then lives it. I cannot respect nor should I respect those who proclaim, in the style of the Evangelical Missionaries the liberals hate so much, "Smoking will kill you! Stop now! In fact, it is so bad that we will campaign to make you stop!" There's not a single smoker in the United States who doesn't know that cigarettes are harmful. Let people live their lives by their own judgments within reason. I am sickened deeply by oh so many holier-than-thou's who insist on making everyones life "perfect".

M4-A2 assault rifle... or a platoon sized element of Airborne Rangers, one of the two. All this talk about AK's... pfhh use a real infantry weapon. AK's are good for nothing but spraying bullets, which may be what you're after, but its not sexy, its not smooth, and you'd best be expert at resolving mechanical issues in the heat of combat. If not an M4 then an M16 with fixed bayonet... how sweet would that be? Hack and slash Uncle Sam style until things get sporty, then unload a little lead. Y'all can take katanas and bo staves all day long, but Miyamoto Mushashi doesn't stand a chance against my kid brother holding a firearm. Only a fool brings a knife to a gunfight. Supposing it was pretty confined combat where only two or three could attack at once, and I knew beforehand none of them possessed firearms, a good ole USMC KA-BAR would be a beautiful thing. Ahh the wonders of being covered in blood, none of which is your own. Either all that or a universe imploder... but something tells me that may have something of an effect on tomorrows coffee date with girl.

I read this, and I think to myself, [i]"Why is it that these people embrace drama?"[/i] And I realize its because they care... That just made me depressed, I'm off to smoke a pack of camel's and drink some Killians...

[QUOTE=Zidargh]Well I recieved the game on Saturday and I'm now about 7 hours in. [spoiler]I'm still in Rabanastre, have done two hunts and need to meet Balthier at the Aerodrome,[/spoiler] so I decided to leave it there. As such, and I'm not sure whether it's due to the lack of anti-aliasing for example, or me just not being able to focus very well, but it's not completely drawing me in. I mean it's fun, and by all means I love the FF series, but I was just wondering if I will begin to get sucked into it after a while. If anyone could answer that, it'd be much appreciated. Please refrain from completely bitching about it though, as I don't want to be disappointed, lol. I guess it's what you make of it. And by all means, it could just be because I was very tired this weekend.[/QUOTE] After you get past the 15 or 16 hour mark of story progression, it will grab you up like no other. Hang with it for a bit longer man.

[size=2] Ok NIK, as I've read many others saying, there is zero doubt that certain substances cause negative health effects. Some of these, as I understand, do so whether used once or constantly, such as methamphetamines or heroin. However, as you have never drank, and I'm willing to bet have never smoked, you have no perspective or understanding on the pleasures both alchohol and nicotine offer to those who can enjoy them in moderation. Little I have encountered in my life can match the pleasure of some Smithwick's Irish or Killian's Red over cigarette or cigar with the crew. It's total body pleasure, and I find it incredibly difficult to "disagree" with drinking and drugs. And it seems rather silly of you to make these bold, sweeping statements without becoming informed of the positive effects of these things when used by mature human beings. I'd advise you to gather some more worldly knowledge before making and proclaiming your world view. [/size]

[center][size=4][b][u]Mongoose Tom[/size][/b][/u][/center] [FONT=Arial Narrow] [Size=2][Color=DarkOrchid] The sleepy town of Windfall, Massachusetts, is rarely interrupted by events of any interest or significance. Windfall has no police of its own, and when the need for an officer arises, they send for one from another town. The last such need was over thirty years ago. Nestled in the northernmost part of the state, pine forests and a small mountain make up the local geography. The children of Windfall are shipped over the mountain to Portersville everyday for school, one school bus is enough for all of the children, from kindergarten to senior high. Only once in the history of the United States has Windfall ever had the nation?s attention. Some thirty years ago four mysterious strangers began to occupy old Doc Harmon?s house, high up on the mountain. Soon after they arrived, strangers began frequenting the town, and the FBI took an interest in the area. The locals were left much alone, thus they were not incredibly perturbed, but still harbored deep suspicion. On January 23rd of the fourth year the strangers made their residence in Windfall, a massive explosion rocked the peaceful New England wilderness. Soldiers, FBI Agents, men in dark suit coats, and even a U.S. Marshall flooded the town for nearly a month afterwards, claiming to be ?conducting an investigation into the death of a man of renown.? Then they were gone as quickly as they came. The man on the video screen was nothing more than a silhouette behind what looked like an Asian paper screen. His voice was slightly muffled and sing-song, though very deep. Those gathered in front of the TV were enraptured by the charisma in his voice. [i]?I am called [b]Toast Guy[/b] by my friends, and I was in the tenth grade at the time of the events in question. THE events I should say, as they were the only interesting things to ever happen in Windfall, Massachusetts. I remember, school was cancelled for nearly three weeks, as government officials shut down the roads leading to Portersville. My father was the preacher at the town?s only church, and he seemed to know something of the happenings at the time. Didn?t strike me to ask him then, but then again, I hadn?t received the message at that point.?[/i] The man on the video screen faltered for a second. The gathered strangers held their breath in curiosity, willing the video to continue. They had been summoned from across the United States by letters with First Class tickets to Boston, and cars waiting for them at the airport. Each of the strangers had no idea others were being gathered until they finally met on that house upon the mountain, the panoramic view of Windfall among the wilderness surrounding them. The house that had purportedly been destroyed in an explosion was untouched, with fresh food piled high in the pantries, and a lived-in feeling that somehow did not belong. Upon entering the Great Room, a large television was set up with a VCR on the dining table. A large sign proclaimed: ?Play Me? in handwriting made poor by use of a large Sharpie pen. [i]?We?ll get back to the message after a bit more background. You are all here for very specific reasons. Reasons you may or may not understand, but that is irrelevant. What is relevant is that Mongoose Tom left instructions that this group in front of the TV was the only group that could be do what must be done. I will be helping you, albeit from the mail for now, because the Crocodile seeks me even now. Our mission: To wake Mongoose Tom, find the Triad, and enter the Winds before the enemy.?[/i] Toast Guy continued, offering no explanation to what a Triad was, or the Winds, or even were and why Mongoose Tom must be woken. Let alone how. Several of the gathered began grumbling about such things when Toast Guy interrupted again. [i]?Before you grumble and leave, know that I do not understand either. But what I do understand is that Mongoose Tom possesses knowledge of the Triad. And though I know not what the Triad is, I know that if they fall, three pillars of humanity will vanish: Restraint, Language, and Emotion. The world will fall into endless anarchistic war if we fail. I suspect that there may be clues in the house, but I had to flee before I could properly search. I pray that Hot Wire managed to keep the Crocodile from seeking answers there as well. Good luck, and fear not, I will be in touch.?[/i] [center][b]~[/b][/center] Welcome to the adventures of Mongoose Tom! This is intended to be a serious RP with just enough humor to remind us of Dave Barry occasionally. The characters played will be the gathered strangers, I will play the NPC?s, and if we don?t have enough strangers, I?ll make one as well. [center][b]Sign-Ups:[/b][/center] [b]Name:[/b] [b]Age:[/b] [b]Sex:[/b] [b]Occupation/Profession:[/b] [b]Introduction:[/b] Give an introductory post regarding how and possibly why your character has been summoned to Windfall. Quality counts here, as does spelling and grammar. PM or IM me (i255i) with any questions or comments! [/size][/font][/color]

"Music Amidst The Mud" Lead Vocalist- Robert Plant (Led Zeppelin) Bassist- Geddy Lee (Rush) Lead Guitar- Lindsay Buckingham (Fleetwood Mac) Keyboard- Ray Manzarek (The Doors) Specialist- Mark Knopfler (Dire Straits, Solo) Drums- Keith Moon (The Who) Music Amidst the Mud brings old rock sensability, character maturity and a vast breadth of performance experience. Moon and Manzarek provide stimulating rhythm as well as the potential for explosive solos that will drive and hold up the entire machine. Geddy Lee will not sing often, well maybe sometimes, but he'll provide the bottom line required to tie the entire ensemble together. Lindsay Buckingham brings incredible guitar skill as well as decent vocals to MAtM, as well as a deep and powerful creative spark. Plant can sing, well. He's an all around Top Fiver, and he'll give Zeppelin's volatile wailing notes to MatM. Knopfler can do about everything, especially sing. So between Buckingham, Knopfler, and Plant a massive variety of vocal range and style is covered. And 'ole Geddy can sing if there are a few high notes. As far as an overall sound goes, MAtM definitely shoots for folk inspired metal. Metal in the Zeppelin sense, rather than the newer stuff. However the main point of MAtM is making music for musics sake, crafting songs with such quality and soul that they are beyond price. Beyond the marketing rackets infested with the likes of Britney Spears and Hilary Duff. Beyond MTV. MAtM isn't about crazy sales records, its about making music so well that it inspires and lasts for generations.

Get over there man and talk to her! Just because she has a boyfriend doesn't make you a nothing, who knows, she may grab you up instead of him? If not who cares, but if you don't go see her the friendship will die, and romance aside, that is very valuable stuff to be throwing away. Didn't see that you don't know where she lives.... Well that's tough. I'd say its a long shot, but you'll eventually run into her if you make an occasional pitstop at art institute hangouts.

I work two jobs from now until June, when I leave for the Airborne Infantry (and Rangers if I have anything to do with it): I shelve books at my local library, and work construction with a small operation in a nearby town. Boring work, but it pays the bills and construction is sometimes fun (like when I nearly electrocuted my boss). Basically just holdover position, because I am training very hard to make a career in the Army Special Forces... if all else fails I'll go to Penn State for something involved with Chemistry lol. My Dad was a Youth Pastor for a while White, before he became a regular Pastor. Youth Groups are great things (been in the same one since I was 13 :)), keep the torch burning man!

Fights? Ahaha, which fights haven't I been in is the question. A lot of people are talented at different sports, getting all state in this or Captain status that, and I'm ok at most sports, as I love to run jump, and all things ball. However, I've never excelled at a "sport" per se, though if personal combat were a sport, I'd be 1st team all state. Not that I'm that terrifically good at it, its just that I love it so much, that even when my opponent says "That's enough man, let's be cool!", I'm still kicking him in the head. I know no boundaries when the floodgate of rage opens, and I usually don't care at all about what I'm fighting over nor is it personal between me and my opponent, its just that the sting of battle is better than sex. Far better. The thud of flesh slamming into bone (mine or his, I love to give AND take), or the thrill of a well executed throw are enough to have me all smiles and giggles for days. I have taken Tang Soo Do for about five years now, and recently joined the US Army Infantry (AB/R). So even in terms of career/hobby I display a love of battle. It all started when I was about 8 or 9 years old, the oldest in what was then a family with 3 children and a highly abusive father. My mother had picked up the neighbor woman and her two boys (10 and 12 at the time) and we were all going to Sam's Club near Hagerstown, MD to get groceries (I lived in the little backwater "town" of Mont Alto near Waynesboro, PA then). They were rough and tumble farm boys, and I was recently of Johnstown, PA, for those of you not familiar with the area it is classic white suburbia. I never liked Brad and Donald at all, because they were loud (pot calling the kettle black :-P), boorish, and very crude. We began calling each other names, and in the backseat of my Mom's Ford Winstar, pushing and shoving began to occur, them v me. I was a bookworm with no interest in athletics up to that moment in time, but I had much rage and a ton of hereditary strength at my disposal. When Brad's fist hit my lip and I felt my blood seep onto the surface of my flesh, something clicked in the back of my mind, some door deep in my soul opened. I released the catch for my seatbelt and went nuts. I jumped over the seat separating me from the two older boys and launched a whirlwind of punches, elbows, and knees. The two mothers were engaged in heavy duty highway traffic, and could do little more than yell at us, I paid them NO heed. When it was all said and done, I had the wind knocked out of my, a huge bloody lip, two bright black eyes, and a broken pinky. I felt better in that moment than I had in my entire life, it was orgasmic and insanely pleasing. I was lucid, clear headed and totally calm, despite the new sensation of battle rage flowing through me. Brad and Donald on the other hand, both delayed our trip to the Sam's Club with stops to the Hospital. It's been over a decade now so I don't remember who had what, but between them the was a broken wrist, broken jaw, four black eyes, good sized bloody lips, and about zero air in their lungs. I expected to get in trouble the entire ride home, because my mother was furious (no legal issues here at all, this was farm country). However, she told me to wait till my father got home (a horror in its own right), and told him what happened over the phone. He brought me an ice pack, and a full meal from Sheetz MTO (Sheetz is the most amazing place in the entire world, visit PA just to go to one). That one moment was the only moment we ever had a good time together, he was proud of me, and didn't let mom get the van redone to remove the blood. My love of battle doesn't stem from a need to seek my biological father's approval, because it comes from both of my Grandfathers (one an armor Col. in the Army) and many uncles (assorted police, marines, etc.), and I have long since outgrown him and become very comfortable with my mother's second husband. Strength! Honor! Here's to Battle!

"You know the 10th Mountain Division, the one you hear so much about? That's all ********, I don't care if you're a ****ing Ranger or what, you're only as good as the guts you take to the lines..." ~ Pap Thomas "In the absence of orders, find something, and kill it." ~ Field Marshall Erwin Rommel "A piece of spaghetti or a military unit can only be led from the front end." ~ General George S. Patton "Everything is very simple in war, but the simplest thing is difficult. These difficulties accumulate and produce a friction which no man can imagine exactly who has not seen war." ~ Karl Von Clausewitz "Generally speaking, the Way of the warrior is resolute acceptance of death." ~ Miyamoto Musashi "Americans love to fight. All real Americans love the sting of battle." ~ George S. Patton "Americans play to win at all times. I wouldn't give a hoot and hell for a man who lost and laughed. That's why Americans have never lost nor ever lose a war." ~ George S. Patton "Battle is an orgy of disorder." ~ George S. Patton "Battle is the most magnificent competition in which a human being can indulge. It brings out all that is best; it removes all that is base. All men are afraid in battle. The coward is the one who lets his fear overcome his sense of duty. Duty is the essence of manhood." ~ George S. Patton "Better to fight for something than live for nothing." ~ George S. Patton "Courage is fear holding on a minute longer." ~ George S. Patton, "Do your damnedest in an ostentatious manner all the time." ~ George S. Patton "In a man-to-man fight, the winner is he who has one more round in his magazine." ~ Erwin Rommel "Leadership is a potent combination of strategy and character. But if you must be without one, be without the strategy." ~ Norman Schwarzkopf "I know I had no hand in making this war, and I know I will make more sacrifices to-day than any of you to secure peace." ~ William Tecumseh Sherman "If I had my choice I would kill every reporter in the world, but I am sure we would be getting reports from Hell before breakfast." ~ William Tecumseh Sherman "If nominated, I will not run; if elected, I will not serve." ~ William Tecumseh Sherman "War is the remedy that our enemies have chosen, and I say let us give them all they want." ~ William Tecumseh Sherman "You cannot qualify war in harsher terms than I will." ~ William Tecumseh Sherman "I choose the likely man in preference to the rich man; I want a man without money rather than money without a man." ~ Themistocles "Excess of grief for the dead is madness; for it is an injury to the living, and the dead know it not." ~ Xenophon "Fast is fine, but accuracy is everything." ~ Xenophon "To aim and hit, you need one eye only, and one good finger." ~ Moshe Dayan "We should demand his blood not from the Arabs of Gaza but from ourselves. Let us make our reckoning today." ~ Moshe Dayan "Only the dead see the end of war." ~ Plato "Don't tease me." ~Worm (Edward Norton), in Rounders FRIEND QUOTES: "Oh my God! It's Sgt. Doom!" ~Zach Strandquest "Sometimes I just wanna quit, and go somewhere that no one knows my name, somewhere no one cares that I love the color red, and that I only eat apple jacks." ~Gillian Thomas "I want to climb to the top of a mountain and scream at the top of my lungs!" ~Gillian Thomas "Shall we venture forth into the oblivion? Shall we play only for the love of the game? Shall we go where no man has gone before and give our lives for the sake of something no one cares about? You better believe it." ~ Adam Schropp "You know the one, the one about the albino bears and using 219 as a home for octogenarians." ~ Nathan "Grape" U. "You like that Pat? Four aces, your boat just got capsized." ~ Germ Shaulis "I once had a drink called Strong Armed Chris Returns To The Den. Weakest ****ing drink I ever had." ~ Matthew Tittle "Do what you gotta do." ~Me Excuse the profantity, we are talking quotes here.

I tried this a while back, and was saddened that it never took off. I really want this to succeed, so direct any questions to my AIM: I 2 5 5 I . Red Eagle It is 1964, the era of Credence Clearwater Revival, the free love movement, student riots, black panthers, civil rights movements, and other political unrest. These things are the things that one reads of in a history book. These are the things that one can see in retrospect. These things are a placid lake compared to what lies beneath. The Soviet Union?s covert and subversive attempts to cripple the United States have been in full swing for over twenty years. The young Central Intelligence Agency has fought powerfully against the KGB and its gulags. The attempts on Western Europe, Northern China, Alaska, Mexico, South America, and Oceania had generally been thwarted. These past years have had clear battle lines, well, as clear as spy vs. spy can be. However, the grey began to grow, and no one knew who they were fighting anymore. Survival became an agent?s prime objective, anyone: your brother, mother, uncle, best friend, waitress, barber- any of them could be Soviet plants. Nothing was safe, nothing was sacred. The KGB inspired fear into the hearts and minds of all but the greatest men, and their reign of terror seemed to be spreading like warm butter on homemade bread. In February of ?64, CIA and MI6 (British Intelligence) operatives have dropped like flies in Hong Kong, Singapore, Tokyo, and Kuala Lumpur. In fact, all of Sinic Asia has become a mine field for American/Free World sympathizers on all but the lowest levels. At first, Langley (CIA headquarters in Virginia), thought that the codes had been broken, however, after three code changes, their agents are still losing cover for seemingly no reason at all. One analyst, a young Rita Forscythe of Alexandria, VA, began to suspect that the Soviets had an inside man high up in Langley. She took her suspicions to the Director, a man merely called Caesar. He considered the meager evidence that she presented, and found some of his own. Soon after, James Ross, director of CIA operations in East Asia was murdered. It was then that Caesar knew he had a Red Eagle on his hands. Only problem was, all of his top men were squeaky clean, checked and re-checked?. Who is the Red Eagle? In March, ?64, the Russian Embassy was bombed. The detonation came from the inside, and no terrorist groups claimed responsibility. Caesar immediately launched no holds barred investigations that lead to one lead: One single piece of paper that could or could not have relevancy to this very volatile international incident. An airline ticket stub uncovered in a third rate hotel closet: Hong Kong 1 Way 1st Class. Meanwhile, Moscow was furious. Washington could not or would not do anything to appease them, and the tension grew to the breaking point. On July the 4th, 1964, a Soviet Envoy delivered the following message to Washington: Deliver the heads of those responsible for this blemish of Soviet Honor in 30 days, or we will assume it was the CIA and commence retaliatory action. Short and to the point, if the incident wasn?t resolved in a month, a Soviet/American War would begin, quite possibly annihilating human civilization as we know it. 17 days have passed, and nothing has happened. American Goals: Find the Defector Solve the mystery of the Russian bombing before the soviets become too aggravated. Retake Sinic Asia?s shadow world from the KGB. Russian Goals: Prevent the Americans from uncovering the real story about the bombed embassy. Sap the final strength from the CIA?s Asia operations. Protect the defector at all costs. British/Chinese Goals: Prevent nuclear war between the superpowers. Solve the embassy bombings before it?s too late. Defeat the KGB in Asia. Unique to British: Aide CIA Prevent Chinese takeover of the Royal Crown Colony of Hong Kong. Unique to the Chinese: Remove the gulags from Asia. Take back Hong Kong from the sniveling British upstarts. The British do not trust the Chinese, or the Chinese the British. However both see the value of peace between Moscow and Washington. A special co-operative team of agents has been dispatched to Washington (without CIA permission) to start unraveling the embassy bombing. In an unrelated mission, an elite three man team of MI6, CIA, and Japanese Intelligence Security agents has been dispatched to Hong Kong to find the defector and kill him. They must do so with great expediency, and without disturbing the precarious balance of local power, to prevent all of Asia from becoming the slaves of the Soviet Empire. Ladies and Gentlemen: This is what I need. Guidelines not rules, so play with these suggestions... also I need a Rita Forscythe. 2-3 CIA Agents. 2-3 MI6 Agents. 2-3 KGB Agents. 1 Japanese Security Agent 1 Special Service of Hong Kong Agent (HK branch of MI6, however they don?t get along.) 2 Civilians. All other characters in the story will be acted by anyone as the circumstances call for. I will be contacting someone, you won?t know who, to play the Red Eagle. The idea is that no one knows everything about what is going on, and that different players have the perspective of their characters. I need maturity here, so that it is played out well. The RP takes place over 13 action packed days. The story must be fast paced to work, but it cannot be rushed. The Soviet players will be working against the American players, the MI6/Chinese/Japanese are sort of stuck in the middle, leaning one way or the other, but generally neutral. Think like a snake on this one guys. It is rated M for a reason, I want no details held back, these are the scum of the earth in terms of morality. Realism is the name of the game. Sign Ups: Name: Realistic Sex: Male or Female, no undecideds. False Name: No one named Yuri Golstovstok will be in the USA without being heavily watched, so he might go by John Stockton or something. Realistic. Age: Minimum is 26, max is 70. Make it fit who the character is. Side: KGB CIA MI6 JSS SSHK or Civilian Biography: Story of how the character came to be where he/she is. Introductory post: Show me your stuff. I will post mine later. Remember L?s & G?s, there are Soviets around every corner, sniping from every roof top, and poisoning every drink. There is no such thing as trust, and there is always more than one Red Eagle.

We starting this thing anytime soon...? [COLOR=DarkGreen][SIZE=1]Actually, I meant it. Don't be spamming the thread, posts like this are pointless and can be asked over PM. -[B]Ezekiel[/B].[/SIZE][/COLOR]

He could see the conical stream of his breath in the light fog a top the Bank of New York building, like so many clouds of cigarette smoke corrupting the air below. Sharp vision found patterns in the descent of the Camel butt, at once enjoying the hidden subtlety and scanning the ground below for his contact. Calling the magic back from his eyes, he allowed them to close, reflecting on the cold wind battering his face from the West. [i]I miss my sweet North Wind?[/i] Rising from his crouch, the darkly garbed man rose to full stature, embracing the night as his brother. Pale hands found and lit another Camel before affixing the fast rope device to the edge of the stone behemoth. Recalling his days at the Air Assault School in Hawaii, he allowed a rare smile to form around the ember of the cigarette. [b]?Thank you, for lending thy embrace, West Wind.?[/b] Deep, guttural, and strong rose the obvious smoker?s voice, joining the chorus of the Winds high above history?s greatest city. Fitting the metal plated gloves to his hands, he allowed his thoughts to return to her, and in a sudden rage called forth the Magic and the wind met a skylight with awesome force. He remained perfectly still as the winds carried the shrapnel safely around him. [i]Control thyself, fool?[/i] Taking iron grip upon the fast rope, he allowed himself to fall into the bustling city below. He free fell until the slack of the cable expended itself, then called the Magic, forming a cushion of air, slowing to a gentle stop. He fast roped the rest of the way, leaving about thirty meters between his boots and the ground. Releasing hold of the rope, he again called the winds, falling gently to the ground. He was well pleased to see that his control had indeed returned, for the ash had not fallen from the Camel casually draped from his mouth. [b]?Are you ok, sir??[/b] Came a female voice from behind him. [b]?I?m fine, Gillian. Pleased even.?[/b] He looked at his trusted friend, and started at the sight of blood on her fair face. [b]?What happened???[/b] [b]?When you destroyed that light, a bit of metal struck me, its nothing? really.?[/b] The pain welled in him, venturing forth from a pit deep within his soul. This was the price of the magic, even when used for the best of purposes; those he loved were always hurt. This was a poignantly inconsequential example, leading his mind into the past, where the pain grew and thrived. [b]?Gill, I?m sorry, I? Here,? [/b] he wiped the blood from her face onto the back of his armored glove. [b]?Can?t have that pretty face of yours marred in blood.?[/b] She smiled at him, the innocence of her youth deepening the pain. She cupped his face in her hand, sensing the pain, but with no understanding of its depth, her heart filled only with the desire to help. She was an Empath, not a true magician, but a partial bearer of the gift [i]Or curse?[/i], and she was attuned to him. [b]?James, sir-?[/b] His voice honed into an edge, viciously interrupting, [b]?Never, ever use my name outside of the sanctum. Clear??[/b] Giggling, she threw a salute, mocking his storied career as a soldier, [b]?Yes, Master Sir.?[/b] Instantly losing his anger and tension, pain temporarily forgotten, he laughed, enjoying the presence of the only thing he loved. The girl he had found, his daughter. [i]Yes, my daughter, I?ll be damned if I?ll give her up to that home of the foolish?[/i], was the only light, the only warmth left in a cold heart, hardened by years of death, warfare, and suffering. [b]?I swear Gill, you?ll be the death of me yet. Forward march, soldier.?[/b] They began to move, taking a break from his own endless scan of the area, he looked back, pleased to see that she used her eyes the way he had taught her, searching always for a threat, Infantry style. Her eyes, however, failed to notice the two men who had almost immediately began to follow them. His did not. Turning a corner, he pulled Gillian into an alleyway, drawing his well used, much adored Glock 40 from his leather jacket. Motioning for silence, he dropped into a combat crouch, and waited for them to round the corner. [b]?Looking for us, friend??[/b] Came a male voice with a sneer he could feel, even in the dark. Almost before the words left the man?s mouth, he had the Glock pressed against the stranger?s throat. [b]?I?ll not ask twice. State your business.?[/b] [b]?You are in violation of the Oath you swore long ago. Have you forgotten? This little Empath belongs to us. We?ll have her and you can be on your way.?[/b] The other stranger spoke, the first unable to summon voice, as Gillian?s ?Sir? had sucked the wind from his lungs. Muscles tensed, his anger rose sharply, the rage cancelling out the pain he had felt only minutes before. [b]?I have fulfilled my Oath, this is your only chance to see the sun?s light tomorrow.?[/b] Gillian quivered, her own body wracked with the pain of her master, as well as pride in his care for her. [b]?Who do you think you are to speak to us like that? Our power is vested, you cannot challenge us. No one ever has!?[/b] He squeezed the trigger twice, deftly opening two fatal wounds in the first man?s throat. Slamming the back of his armored fist into the wall, blood flew from him as his voice turned to ice, [b]?You were sent against me without warning? My my, they must think highly of themselves these days. I am the Windfall, the North Wind incarnate. I am the Jeulnelune, Master of the Winds. I am your death, bear my greetings to those already fallen to my hand.?[/b] The 9mm round, launched with the added power of his magic tore through the stopgap shield thrown up by the second stranger. [b]?Gill, let us return home, these are not sights for your young eyes.?[/b] He gathered her in his powerful arms, stepping in the growing pool of blood on the street. The ash from his Camel glided slowly, coming to rest amongst the blood, like so many men pitted against the storm of time. Clarification Of Power: Can manipulate air at will, causing it to do a great many things to help him. As he's older (about 46 or 47), he's had more time to hone his gift, though he is by no means "all-powerful". He cannot affect air that has no natural movement, such as deep within a cave. There are ways around this, but it is very difficult. Also, he becomes very lethargic and dim witted when the air has no natural flow. All that is required is the most slight natural stirring of the air, and he's good to go, but stagnant air is his downfall. Anytime he uses the magic, he experiences extreme pain, as it causes those he loves to be hurt (e. g. Gillian's face, for a small example). Cannot conjure tornadoes or hurricanes, but he can encourage weather to a more severe state. In states of GREAT emotional distress, he loses the ability to control the winds, becoming reactively powerful, rather than proactively powerful.

STARING AT THE SUN the OFFSPRING Maybe life is like a ride on a freeway Dodging bullets while you're trying to find your way Everyone's around, but no one does a damn thing It brings me down, but I won't let them If I seem bleak Well you'd be correct And if I don't speak It's cause I can't disconnect But I won't be burned by the reflection Of the fire in your eyes As you're staring at the sun When I ran I didn't feel like a runaway When I escaped I didn't feel like I got away There's more to living than only surviving Maybe I'm not there, but I'm still trying Though you hear me I don't think that you relate My will is something That you can't confiscate So forgive me, but I won't be frustrated By destruction in your eyes As you're staring at the sun

my girlfriend and i have found romance in the weirdest places.. for instance we went to pick out paint colors for her room at Home Depot mid October, and we ended up chasing the sunset the entire way across the parking lot into the woods nearby. we kissed so tenderly as the sun finally disappeared, and allthroughout paint selection, we were filled with the awe of chasing the sunset. both of us are rather sappy romantics, i mean seriously, it was at HOME DEPOT! lmao, but it still warms me to think about it. same with the 7.50$ DVD area at wal*mart, we always hold each other tight there... and for some reason our kisses are more tender in that area... sigh i am a sappy fool.

OOC: Sorry for rapid fire posting, but i need to get more involved in this. [FONT=Arial Narrow][SIZE=1][COLOR=RoyalBlue] Vincent Allegro is your typical S.T.A.R.S. captain: gruff, human, skilled, and a little skeptical at the crazy shit that comes his way. The 3 foot midget hopping madly in his sniper scope really takes the cake though.. In all 15 years of Allegro's service to Aros, well.. his thoughts will clue us in: [i]What the fucking hell? This shit is wack... should I just shoot it? The Missus was right... should have called off today. Fucking midgets.... I desperately need some Heineken...[/i] The little man began hopping and chanting in a circular pattern, wildly rubbing his hads together, rolling the odd looking staff back and forth between his grubby paws. "Hey you! Yea you! In the... loincloth." The midget looked up at him, "Yaaahhhhhh?" "Uhhh.... halt! Stop prancing about.." "You not in tune with spirit of Nature... Gababaraetg!" "What did you say? Hey NOW! I AM WARNING YOU NOT ONE STEP CLOSER OR I WILL FIRE!" "Touchy bastard... I kill you if you don't change your karma." A funny thing occured on those bleak, desolate streets: Allegro's brain clicked. "Karma?" "Yaa. Become on with nature, know your spiritual connections." "How?" "Come to Berky, he show you." Vincent Allegro lowered his guard, and sat down in front of the insane midget. "Mr. Berky, teach me to improve my karma... Heal my tortured soul!" Allegro wailed. Berky was delighted to have finally garnered a disciple. ~-----~ [i] Johs Rok Tull, High Captain, FLARE; General of Aros Security Forces; Chief Security Officer; etc.: The board of Aros Incorporated has declared a state of company wide emergency. All security forces and research teams are placed pro-TEMP under your authority. We, the Board of Aros. Directors, demand constant updates, and reserve the right to revoke all of your authority. 8 full S.T.A.R.S. divisions, all of FLARE, and 4 SDK's are under your command. Retrieve the DataPad. Even if you must declare martial law. The Board of Aros Incorporated Directors P. S. Do not become hasty. [/i] :// End Transmission. "What will you do?" Medusa asked, reading over his shoulder. "They have given us Aros. Why? There has got to be some catch. I must play this carefully." "Do not call for martial law, my love. That would destroy us." "How so?" He asked, curious as to where she was going with that. "They want you to. Stay just on this side of them, we can always make the leap." [/COLOR][/SIZE][/FONT] OOC: Trust me, no god-modding or story raping is occuring here. Just playing out dialogue that would occur between the characters. Also, Oogie, i thought if you had a disciple to boss around, it would add a bit more comic relief to a sad, sad story. You can kill him next post if you dont like him. Allegro is loyal to you, though.

[FONT=Arial Narrow][SIZE=1][COLOR=RoyalBlue] Johs Rok Tull sat regally in his massive, leather-backed chair. Joh Ten Garden, Rimmer Dall, and the Medusa stood at attention before him. Long raven hair cascading to her perfect ass, and shining green eyes gave glory to the strikingly beautiful Medusa. Her position as manager, lover, and confidante of Johs Rok Tull gave her a unique power among the women of Aros, especially impressive due to the fact of her 100% humanity. "Joh Ten Garden, I am not pleased. My desk does not hold Dr. Ross' DataPad. However, you are young, and I was injured. Rimmer Dall, Joh Ten Garden, you are forgiven for failing the mission. The Board was furious, however, they were sympathetic after I talked to them." He paused, swirling his left pointerfinger around the stubble on his chin. "Pour us glasses of Hypnotic (OOC: if you guys havent had some... this is the shit. Ahhh :) ), my dear. And bring the bottle, will you? Joh Ten, I am well pleased with the effort and tactics you put forth on the fly, especially considering your youth. You will serve under Rimmer Dall as quaestor." The youth's immaculate black uniform snapped as he saluted hard. "Sir! I am honored, thank you, sir." Johs Rok Tull nodded in acknowledgement. "Rimmer Dall! Before this mission, in two-thousand attempts, FLARE held a 1999-1 success record. I am furious that we are 1999-2 now. You seem inadequate to face the DataPad's recovery alone, as I will not be returning to the field for a short time. As you leave, get me Agita Vagren. I'll see you boys later." Rimmer Dall and Joh Ten Garden saluted, and exited the office of the world's most deadly man. The Devil Hand's moniter blinked on suddenly, and the familiar face of Agita Vagren, Chief Technical Captain of FLARE, appeared before him. "Agita," The infamous baritone half-sang, "K4t4oi attempted to access the FLARE mainframe today. Your security measures barely contained him, her, it, whatever. Fact is, old friend, K4t4oi must not gain access to FLARE, and I'd rather not have it access Aros either. Are you up for a little cyber duel?" The sleek young man on the screen brushed his platinum blonde hair out of his eyes, revealing an eye patch over the left one. He revealed a tiny bit of his perfect, shiny white teeth as he spoke, "I have never faced a hacker of K4t4oi's reputation and reputed skill. I will delight myself in doing battle. Rumour, sir, is that K4t4oi is a woman." The words we incredibly cold. Frigid even. "I hired you, Agita, because you said that you were the best. Do not fail me. Aros R&D has a system set up for you on floor 78a of Omega building. Medusa sends you transportation now. You have practical staff Agita, but you must defeat K4t4oi on your own. All FLARE members must win personal combat of some type. Prove yourself now." The voice of Johs Rok reaching a dramatic crescendo at the end of his challenge. Agita Vagren twirled a finger above his head in salute, and disappeared. Sleek, creamy white fingers caressed Tull's cheek from behind, "Here's our Hypnotic, $%^%&(*), Vagren's escort should be arriving for him in three minutes. Relax with me for a while, you do not have to return to the field for a little while." Her voice was honey, but far sweeter. Just on the right side of flattering, Medusa held complete mastery over normal men. Johs Rok Tull, however, was the only man the proved her equal in bed and in life. The challenge was euphoric, and the two of them danced an increasingly complex dance of subtlety, words, and action. He smiled, allowing himself to be seduced, toasting, "If we can't have the world, then no one will." A passionate kiss as they touched glasses. ~-------~ The 12 shadow figures sat around the ancient, massive boardroom table of Aros Inc. "Johs Rok Tull has asked for a declaration of company wide emergency. The contents of Ross' DataPad were far more extensive than we thought." A slimey voice stated without passion or elegance. "If we give him a declaration of emergency, we will never wrest power from him again. He is too intelligent, and too powerful. It was a mistake to infuse him materiANIMA." Cried another. "It is too late! We can fight him later, if Caladbolg is given time to decode and implement the weapons schematics and use the infrastructure data contained in the datapad.... we may fall." Something breathed... "How can you fight Johs Rok Tull? He killed an SDK with standard equipment. We predicted this, however, his only injury was a moderate shoulder laceration." "Declare the emergency. Give him all of the S.T.A.R.S. teams and others, there is one way to fight him." "How?" "All in good time." [/COLOR][/SIZE][/FONT] OOC: * Only Medusa knows JRT's real name, and I'm not ready for anyone else to know it yet.

[FONT=Arial Narrow] [SIZE=1][COLOR=RoyalBlue] Johs Rok Tull's head slammed into the stonish wall of the sewer. [i]Fuck! SDK-6100.. there shouldn't be any of these battle-androids on earth.. I am not equipped to deal with this.[/i] He dodged another blast from the Aros Shock Assault droid, drawing his pistols and unleashing a few slugs into his deadly foe. The SDK's lithe, humanoid body launched itself out of the passage beneath the trapdoor, absorping two of Devil Hand's shells. It opened fire with its main battery machine gun, however Johs Rok Tull was far to fast to bit hit by primitive machine weaponry. The SDK chased the FLARE Captain at an incredible pace through the sewers, rank with filth and faetor. Soon the ammunition in the SDK's gun was exhausted, forcing it to change strategy. It began charging its laser weaponry, however, the AI detected a dead end, and forced Johs Rok into it. The SDK drew its cybernetic vorpal blades, advancing upon the cornered human slowly. [i]Hand to hand combat.. there is hope. I only get one shot at this..[/i] Tull drew his mighty vorpal slayer, and assumed the readiness stance his master had taught him some fifty years before. Even in the face of near certain death, these Assault Droids were designed for advanced deep space warfare, Johs Rok Tull's heart never increased from its steady pace, his brow was dry, and he had no fear. ~---------~ Rimmer Dall directed FLARE members to assume command of S.T.A.R.S. teams, briefed the ICD agents, and generally organized the black market sweep through from his hastily constructed command tent in sector 16. He was uneasy without Johs Rok Tull, however Rimmer Dall also knew that he was not 1st Lieutenant for nothing. "Joh Ten Garden!" He snapped. Aa young, promising FLARE officer reported instantly. "Sir!" Joh Ten Garden saluted. "The S.T.A.R.S. team Cantico reported data decryption involving a Bladedancer report in a small shop in sector 9. Go with them and find where this is coming from. I want them alive, not dead." Joh Ten Garden saluted again, and with blinding speed was off. ~-----------~ The SDK and Johs Rok Tull rushed forward simultaneously, however Rok's vast combat experience allowed him to survive meticulously programmed AI's assualt. Johs took the SDK's cybernetic vorpal in his left (dominant) shoulder, while his blade severed the droid in half, destroying the operation circuit. Losing a vast amount of blood very quickly, Johs Rok Tull sprinted with all of his incredible speed and power to the exit, radioing for medical assistance, and ordering an elite FLARE team properly equipped to clean out the sewers. [/COLOR][/SIZE][/FONT] P.S. Please don't kill Rimmer or Joh Ten yet, do so later, but I have hard times coming up with names, so kill the other Aros dude first please :p

[SIZE=1][FONT=Arial Narrow][COLOR=RoyalBlue] Johs Rok Tull examined the removed brick carefully. Four 1st Class FLARE hunters stood in a semi-circle approximately six feet behind their storied leader, standing easily, the rush of the hunt beginning to come upon them in the early hours of the morning. "The transport droid is long gone, however, I think it is going to the black market districts, sir." Rimmer Dall, FLARE Lieutenant, 1st Class offered. Johs Rok Tull stood up, turned to Rimmer Dall slowly. His deep, musical baritone echoed throughout the sewers. "There is no evidence here to suggest that, however I agree with you," he paused, sensing something stirring deep in the sewers. More gruffly, he began again, "Take these men and the entire squadron, equip anti-riot gear and sweep the junkshops of sectors 8, 17, 64, and 97. Alert ICD, and activate at least 6 S.T.A.R.S. teams, the conventional support will aide in calming the crowds. I want this DataPad in my office within 72 hours. Also, I want the tech people closing all data transfer ports possible, ASAP. If Caladbolg has already recieved the DataPad, God only knows what damage they will deal if it spreads." Rimmer Dall saluted, and with blinding speed disappeared into the darkness with the three others. [i]What is this presence down here? 600 meters away I imagine.[/i] He made his way towards this stirring with incredibly speed and stealth. His heightened senses began to reel at its strength, but his endless desire to push his own limits forced him onward. [i]I am coming for you, fool.[/i] Quickly covering the 600 meters, he found not an enemy, but a trapdoor. The energy emitted from below was incredible, but Johs Rok Tull's veins coursed with euphoria at the though of a powerful foe. He opened the trapdoor, and was thrown back by a flash of light. ~-------------------------------~ Meanwhile, FLARE, S.T.A.R.S., and ICD agents began pouring over the black market sectors, hunting the Doctor's DataPad. [/COLOR][/FONT][/SIZE]

Name: Johs Rok Tull, High Captain of Aros Inc.'s FLARE Squadron Classification: Combat Enhanced Human Nickname/Title: Devil Hands Age: Unknown, physical capability of a 25 year old man and mental stability of a 45 year old man Sex: Yes Please! j/k j/k.. ( male ) Physical Description: see attachment. The armor worn in the picture is very much like Johs Rok Tull's. Shining green eyes, silver hair at length slightly below the shoulder blades. His mtrTEK-6270 Cybernetic Battle Armor hides his hands from view. Mental stability: Highly stable, possessed with vast intelligence and logic. Resistant to his own emotions though, however they do still affect him. Personality: Cold, distant, calculating. He won't let anyone close to him emotionally, and never reveals what he truly thinks/feels. He is used to being obeyed without question by everyone, and although never without control of himself, he has very violent reactions to not being obeyed. He seems merciless, but is not mindless, JRT's intelligence and perception determine what he does in a given situation, not his bent for evil. High sense of honor, and when his honor is offended, he would travel to the edge of the universe to exact vengeance. Vastly jealous and incredibly decisive, few survive to know his more calm side. Occupation: Aros Inc.'s FLARE Squadron Founder and Captain. Rank in Aros the equivalent of the Chief Financial Officer. cybernetics: Every muscle in his body has been cyberneticallay enhanced for incredible reaction speed, strength, and endurance. It is said he can run 45 miles an hour for ten hours before becoming winded. His nervous system has been augmented to the limits of technology, and Johs Rok Tull's speed, precision, and grace of movement stands beyond unreal. Called Devil Hands because of the intensely cybernetically enhanced nature of his hands, giving him speed enough to catch low velocity shells, and strength to crush steel girders in their vicelike grip. The nervous system upgrades have given him an amazing tolerance for pain, and the ability to heal very quickly. JRT's brain was enhanced to give him speed and poignancy of thought far beyond a normal human. He is killable. But not easily. Faction: Is employed by Aros Inc. Generally serves their interests, although to Johs Rok Tull, Johs Rok Tull's interests are the only ones that truly matter. weapons: Has a cybernetically enhanced vorpal longsword he uses for killing specific foes. It's 8' blade is weightless, and effortlessly slices through all but the toughest steels. Also uses twin R785-EML sidearms, the most advanced personal firearms in the universe. They are self ammunition manufacturing pistols, with a mol (6.02x10^23rd) of slug force behind each semi-automatic firing. Very sleek, elegant looking weapons, their shells can pierce up to 9" of enhanced steel armor. His final and favorite weapon is the MPD-5k76EMP Assault Rifle. Primary function is a massive, directed stream of lightning-like electric discharge, while the secordanry function is a rapid-fire shotgun type relase of tiny adamant wires, fired at incredibly high velocity. The secondary function is excellent for anti-personnel use, and is his favorite for crowd control. Background: Nothing at all is known of his earliest days, other than he studied many forms of martial arts. The first known record of Johs Rok Tull is the enlistment form he signed to become a member of a S.T.A.R.S. team for the Aros Inc. security forces. He advanced through the ranks rapidly, becoming a general when he was an estimated thirty four years old. Aros noticed his combat potential, and put him through the most intense cybernetic enhancement of all time, creating what they thought would be the ultimate weapon. They fell slightly short, although he is a weapon indeed. With secret funding and massive support from Aros, FLARE was formed, and quickly gained a reputation for being the meanest, nastiest motherfuckers in the galaxy. The FLARE members hold incredible respect and loyalty to JRT, a fact that Aros in uneasy of. However, in all of JRT's 213 FLARE missions, 213 were completed according to Aros Inc. directives. In the present day, he is continuing to function as FLARE Captain, although he has taken more and more vacation, disappearing for long stretches of time, and offering no explaination... FLARE Squadron: Founded by Johs Rok Tull fifteen years ago as the dark side of Aros Inc.'s already dark military operations, FLARE Squadron specializes in assassination, terrorism, city assault, rebellion suppression, kidnapping, mass murder, etc. These men are the elite of the elite, and a 3rd class FLARE member is enough to take out an entire S.T.A.R.S. team. They can be killed, quite easily, as all of them are at least 85% human, however, their martial and acrobatic skill is non-pareil. FLARE members are more fast than strong, accurate than destructive, lithe, elegant, and educated... if you mess with the best, you die like the rest. Johs Rok Tull reports directly the the President CEO of Aros Inc. himself, and is among the very few who have actually seen the President's face. Force Landslide Annhiliation Research Enigma- FLARE

I tried this a while back, and was saddened that it never took off. I really want this to succeed, so direct any questions to my AIM: I 2 5 5 I . [i]Red Eagle[/i] It is 1964, the era of Credence Clearwater Revival, the free love movement, student riots, black panthers, civil rights movements, and other political unrest. These things are the things that one reads of in a history book. These are the things that one can see in retrospect. These things are a placid lake compared to what lies beneath. The Soviet Union?s covert and subversive attempts to cripple the United States have been in full swing for over twenty years. The young Central Intelligence Agency has fought powerfully against the KGB and its [i]gulags[/i]. The attempts on Western Europe, Northern China, Alaska, Mexico, South America, and Oceania had generally been thwarted. These past years have had clear battle lines, well, as clear as spy vs. spy can be. However, the grey began to grow, and no one knew who they were fighting anymore. Survival became an agent?s prime objective, anyone: your brother, mother, uncle, best friend, waitress, barber- any of them could be Soviet plants. Nothing was safe, nothing was sacred. The KGB inspired fear into the hearts and minds of all but the greatest men, and their reign of terror seemed to be spreading like warm butter on homemade bread. In February of ?64, CIA and MI6 (British Intelligence) operatives have dropped like flies in Hong Kong, Singapore, Tokyo, and Kuala Lumpur. In fact, all of Sinic Asia has become a mine field for American/Free World sympathizers on all but the lowest levels. At first, Langley (CIA headquarters in Virginia), thought that the codes had been broken, however, after three code changes, their agents are still losing cover for seemingly no reason at all. One analyst, a young Rita Forscythe of Alexandria, VA, began to suspect that the Soviets had an inside man high up in Langley. She took her suspicions to the Director, a man merely called Caesar. He considered the meager evidence that she presented, and found some of his own. Soon after, James Ross, director of CIA operations in East Asia was murdered. It was then that Caesar knew he had a [i]Red Eagle[/i] on his hands. Only problem was, all of his top men were squeaky clean, checked and re-checked?. Who is the [i]Red Eagle[/i]? In March, ?64, the Russian Embassy was bombed. The detonation came from the inside, and no terrorist groups claimed responsibility. Caesar immediately launched no holds barred investigations that lead to one lead: One single piece of paper that could or could not have relevancy to this very volatile international incident. An airline ticket stub uncovered in a third rate hotel closet: [b]Hong Kong 1 Way 1st Class.[/b] Meanwhile, Moscow was furious. Washington could not or would not do anything to appease them, and the tension grew to the breaking point. On July the 4th, 1964, a Soviet Envoy delivered the following message to Washington: Deliver the heads of those responsible for this blemish of Soviet Honor in 30 days, or we will assume it was the CIA and commence retaliatory action. Short and to the point, if the incident wasn?t resolved in a month, a Soviet/American War would begin, quite possibly annihilating human civilization as we know it. 17 days have passed, and nothing has happened. [b]American Goals:[/b] Find the Defector Solve the mystery of the Russian bombing before the soviets become too aggravated. Retake Sinic Asia?s shadow world from the KGB. [b]Russian Goals:[/b] Prevent the Americans from uncovering the real story about the bombed embassy. Sap the final strength from the CIA?s Asia operations. Protect the defector at all costs. [b]British/Chinese Goals:[/b] Prevent nuclear war between the superpowers. Solve the embassy bombings before it?s too late. Defeat the KGB in Asia. Unique to British: Aide CIA Prevent Chinese takeover of the Royal Crown Colony of Hong Kong. Unique to the Chinese: Remove the [i]gulags[/i] from Asia. Take back Hong Kong from the sniveling British upstarts. The British do not trust the Chinese, or the Chinese the British. However both see the value of peace between Moscow and Washington. A special co-operative team of agents has been dispatched to Washington (without CIA permission) to start unraveling the embassy bombing. In an unrelated mission, an elite three man team of MI6, CIA, and Japanese Intelligence Security agents has been dispatched to Hong Kong to find the defector and kill him. They must do so with great expediency, and without disturbing the precarious balance of local power, to prevent all of Asia from becoming the slaves of the Soviet Empire. Ladies and Gentlemen: This is what I need. Guidelines not rules, so play with these suggestions... also I need a Rita Forscythe. 2-3 CIA Agents. 2-3 MI6 Agents. 2-3 KGB Agents. 1 Japanese Security Agent 1 Special Service of Hong Kong Agent (HK branch of MI6, however they don?t get along.) 2 Civilians. All other characters in the story will be acted by anyone as the circumstances call for. I will be contacting someone, you won?t know who, to play the [i]Red Eagle[/i]. The idea is that no one knows everything about what is going on, and that different players have the perspective of their characters. I need maturity here, so that it is played out well. The RP takes place over 13 action packed days. The story [i]must[/i] be fast paced to work, but it cannot be rushed. The Soviet players will be working against the American players, the MI6/Chinese/Japanese are sort of stuck in the middle, leaning one way or the other, but generally neutral. Think like a snake on this one guys. It is rated [b]M[/b] for a reason, I want no details held back, these are the scum of the earth in terms of morality. Realism is the name of the game. [b]Sign Ups:[/b] [b]Name:[/b] Realistic [b]Sex:[/b] Male or Female, no undecideds. [b]False Name:[/b] No one named Yuri Golstovstok will be in the USA without being [i]heavily[/i] watched, so he might go by John Stockton or something. Realistic. [b]Age:[/b] Minimum is 26, max is 70. Make it fit who the character is. [b]Side:[/b] KGB CIA MI6 JSS SSHK or Civilian [b]Biography:[/b] Story of how the character came to be where he/she is. [b]Introductory post:[/b] Show me your stuff. I will post mine later. Remember L?s & G?s, there are Soviets around every corner, sniping from every roof top, and poisoning every drink. There is no such thing as trust, and there is always more than one [i][i]Red Eagle[/i]. [/i]

[u][b]Name[/u][/b]: Jeulnelune, Wind Lord [u][b]Nickname[/u][/b]: Wolfram, Slayer of Light, the Foreigner [u][b]Age[/u][/b]: 2000 [u][b]Gender[/u][/b]: Male [u][b]Species[/u][/b]: Ancient Vampire [u][b]Clan[/u][/b]: Gwyar [u][b]Appearance[/b][/u]: At 6'4", the Wind Lord's 250lbs give him a slim appearance. Each and every one of those 250lbs is pure muscle, translating into a built, athletic, and powerful frame. His features are very handsome and chiseled, many human women find him attractive both sexually and romantically. Blazing green eyes offset his pale skin, and a cascade of nearly black brown hair falls nearly behind his knees. Juel always ties his hair back with a string of engraved black pearls. His limbs are supple and hold vast power. He moves with the flow of a dancer, with the grace and poignancy of the wind itself. Even his sudden movements look choreographed so great is their precision and efficiency. His voice is a low baritone, intimating musicality, but holding a raw and cutting edge. It is said that he is among the most inspirational speakers of all time. [b][u]Weapons[/b][/u]: The Wolfram has studied the art of Edo Yagyu Shinkage for four hundred years, and other sword styles before that. A true master of the blade, Jeulnelune is comfortable with any bladed weapon, although these days he prefers his Muramasa crafted katana, the vorpal [b]Catastrophe[/b]: Unremarkable in all aspects, although humanity's finest attempt at swordcraft, the Catastrophe possesses no magical or spiritual powers beyond its ability to resist being destroyed by supernatual means. The blade is nearly nine feet long, but weighs a mere thirteen ounces. Crafted of steel made with meteoric iron, it is finely tempered and perfectly balanced, taking the phrase "razor sharp" to the next level. The tsuba is ancient granite, so polished that the square surface reflects a clear mirror image back at one who gazes into it. Tsuka wrapped in the skin of the enigmatic goblin sharks. [u][b]Powers[/b][/u]: Although the master of many winds, these five fit the Lord of Wind's taste the most: [b]Typhoon[/b]: Jeulnelune summons to his control the Kami-Kaze, the Divine Winds, unleashing furious wrath upon those fool enough to oppose a greater vampire. If around bodies of water, the he may direct the Kami-Kaze through the water, gaining extra punch. [b]Boreas[/b]: He calls upon the Demons of the North Wind for a blast of frigid, piercing winds. Beyond the physical effects of the Boreas, the ice sharp air numbs the mind, slowing reaction time in its victims. By expending great amounts of energy, he can summon a deadly winter storm, although the might of this storm is great indeed, Jeulnelune requires rest in his palace before regaining full might. [b]Sirocco[/b]: The Demons of the Desert Wind send to their Lord a mass of incredibly hot, stagnant air. Jeulnelune wills the mass of boiling oxygen where he wants it, creating a field of suffocation, pain, and flame to stifle and damage all within. [b]Silano Nafhat[/b]: The poison wind of Earth's mires, bogs, and swamps blows rank and faetor against his foes. The poison winds can kill mortals in but a short time, as well as severely reduce a weaker vampire's skills and health. An ancient or greater vampire loses only one thing from the Silano Nafhat: Short term memory (between five minutes and one hour). [b]Zephyr[/b]: The Demons of the West Wind give to the Wolfram lift into the high and fast currents of wind, far above the ground of mortals and the means to travel there for extended periods of time. Through Zephyr, Jeulnelune can cross the globe, bringing his dark presence quickly according to his purposes. [b][u]Personality[/b][/u]: Grave, patient, and demanding, Jeulnelune knows his place and he knows yours. He posesses an easy charm, coupled with beautiful unforced manners that Emily Prost would be proud of. Incredibly intelligent, arrogant to a certain point, and wise, Jeulnelune reminds one of Dr. Hannibal Lecter's personality slightly. He is very mature, highly worldly, and deeply sophisticated, however he does not much care for the politics of his brethren. He maintains his lone wolf status, but has deep respect and reverance for his clan, the Gwyar. Nothing makes him uncomfortable, not even an Archangel because of his utter confindence in his skill and experience. [b][u]Bio[/b][/u]: Jeulnelune is the youngest of the generation that produced legends such as Vlad Dracula, Le Stat, and Lord Orlok. He never achieved the notoriety of his brethren because of his distaste for the politics of the complex vampire societies, and his natural predisposition to be alone (Thus the nickname, Foreigner). In the very beginning of his "life", Jeulnelune was merely a vampire, destined for glory because of his generation, yet unremarkable aside from bloodline. However, when the demon god of wind was slain by an archangel, the essence of the wind god's soul was captured in a crystal vial. During his many wanderings, Jeul found that vial in a palace of ice and water deep in the arctic circle. He opened the vial, and the wind god's essence bound itself to his vampiric soul. Hence, Jeulnelune became Wind Lord, and secured his status as an Elder Vampire. In the arctic palace that he took possession of, Jeul found the tomb of Pandora and oftentimes entered it, observing her still form, sleeping in death. Her hands gripping so tightly a small black box. Many times he tried to remove the box from her grip, but time and experimentation proved to him that no force known to the Earth or below the Earth would budge it. That said, he named his palace Pandora's Song for the hymn she occasionally whispers in her dark tomb. For hundreds of years Jeul removed himself from vampire society, training endlessly his blade technique, mastering the transferred power of the wind god, and learning much from his Daguerreo, a vast collection of ancient tomes and scrolls. He was satisfied with that secluded life, maintaining correspondance and the rare visit only with Vlad Dracula himself. In 1200 AD, when the endless war between Heaven and Hell threatened to break forth into the world of mortals, and thus put the entire existance of vampires at risk, Jeulnelune responded to Dracula's summons, putting forth his entire might and effort in their successful attempt at preventing disaster. He earned the title "Slayer of Light" for defeating a host of cherubim in combat, and secured legend status in the lore of vampires forever. After the war, he returned to Pandora's Song, again only communicating with Vlad Dracula. In recent years, he has ventured forth into the world with increasing frequency, sensing that all is not right. He is both fascinated and disturbed by the new clan, especially due to the Gwyar defections. The Wind Lord would and may "die" for the cause of the Gwyar, and holds great fury for the traitors. Most concerning to him of all is the summons from Dracula, the first such summons in 800 years sent to Pandora's Song... He smells war on the horizon, and stands ready to fight to the last vampire. Jeulnelune, the Foreigner, Slayer of Light, Wind Lord among Elder Vampires holds tight, drinks deep, and is ready for w a r. [u][b]Writing Sample[/u][/b]: This has nothing to do with the story and is totally out of context, meant merely to showcase myself and Jeulnelune, Wind Lord in action: [i] [b] I have not eaten in many days...[/b] Jeulnelune allowed his mind to wander. [b]What is this? A human woman... [/b] His senses told him that a woman was alone in a house directly below his lazy flight. Wordlessly he descended, gracefully landing on her roof top. Transforming into mist, Jeul lazed down her chimney, rematerializing in a poorly decorated livingroom. He sneered at the Wal-Mart furnature in disgust, picking his way toward the pulse of her heart. Boom. Step. Beat. Step. As the Wolfram approached its prey, the woman's heart subconsciously worked faster and faster. He could nearly dance to the beat, smelling the perspiration on her sleeping form. The bedroom door. Jeulnelune opened the door silently, entered, and shut it again in the blink of an eye. She was close to waking, too close. He liked his victims to sleep the entire time. His hand waved slightly, and a calming wind from the Carribbean settled around the woman, and she went back into deep sleep. Sexually charged dreams entered he sleep the second his hands touched the flesh of her cheek. She moaned slightly, drawing off slowly to the sound, ending in a purr. [b]Resist her flesh. She is merely sustenance.. The shape of her leg as it turns inward at the top.. mm.. Focus, Wolfram. This flesh is not up to your standards.[/b] She breathed heavily as he kissed her sleeping lips, the moaning more audible now. His fangs became feral, and her scraped them gently along her skin as he trailed tneder, skilled kisses down her neck. Her body writhed slightly, she panted and the sheets about her waste began to get wet. As Jeul's fangs pieced her neck, she climaxed. With each drop of blood her drained from her into him, her orgasm was sustained that much longer. Again and again he drained her vains, again and again she reached her peak- the pleasure maxed out, her senses overloaded. So greatly did he enjoy the spectacle he created on a whim, that he drained her body dry, ending both her life and her unlife before it even began. The Slayer of Light laughed. He laughed long and hard, not a light, happy sort of laugh, but a darkly satisfied laugh full of crescendo and very deep. His laughed quickly subsided, but even as he flew into the night skies, Jeulnelune emitted a low chuckle. [/i] [u][b]Other[/u][/b]: He is feral, and is closely associated with the Wolf. The Wind Lord has many servants, but the principal servants of Jeul are Lilly and Rose, twin succubii, not physically powerful, but very beguiling and crafty.

[QUOTE=Ilium][COLOR=DarkRed] And I think your blind, immature, and ludicrous for thinking that you have the right to judge who's a Christian and who isn't.[/COLOR][/QUOTE] Being a Christian is defined as follows, and this definition is easily backed up by the Bible: A sinner saved by the grace of God through the death and resurrection of the Lord Jesus Christ, God's son. By initiating a personal relationship with Jesus Christ, one becomes Christian. This is done through a prayer that outlines the following perspectives/beliefs- yes I am a sinner, yes you (the person of Jesus Christ), have died and rose again to pay for those sins, I am sorry for those sins and asked to be washed clean in your blood. Baptism is an outward sign of belief, a proclamation of having accepted Christ in your life. Baptism is nothing more than a symbol. Because the status "Christian" is definable, and defendable, then it doesn't boil down to rights and priveleges in determining who is and who isn't. The facts stand as they are, and cannot be changed through the coloured glasses of perspective.