Chaos

[i]Arano stopped in mid-step, halfway up the crater he created by expelling an only a fraction of his mana, glancing southward. Rumbling sounded lowly through the air, and buildings shook greatly. Waves buckled in the cement, the earth itself rising up and falling rapidly.[/i] [b]Arano:[/b] "Seems as if Unas is having fun..." [i]He took to the air, forcing mana outwards to take flight. He hurled forward, a black streak in the cloudy day. Speeding forward, arms at his side, straight as a bullet, Arano didn't even bother with dodging obstacles. He just plowed through the buildings that stood in his way, leaving crumbling towers in his wake. But suddenly, he corkscrewed to the right, slinging his sword out. As soon as he brought it up, a loud clank sounded. A brief split second passed, and a flash of light emanated. The windows in a five block radius shattered at once, and the stone structures spider-webbed and cracked. Arano slid along the road, carving a rut in the blacktop street, until his right arm shot forward and he flipped himself to his feet. He brushed off his shirt, which was tattered and torn. So he simply removed it. Detailed scars traced patterns across his flesh, giving him an eerily ghostly appearance. His assaulters soon came into view. Angels, hyped up on Haste. Three scouts. Each had short swords, steel bucklers, and steel chain mail armor. Arano turned slowly in his spot, looking at them with a relative annoyance as they fell into a triangle-like formation above him.[/i] [b]Angel 1:[/b] "So, demon, you dare disgrace the Lord's world with your foul, offending body?" [b]Arano:[/b] "Gee, and I thought [i]I[/i] was conceited." [b]Angel 2:[/b] "Do not confuse arrogance with pride." [b]Arano:[/b] "And arrogant for that matter." [b]Angel 1:[/b] "Enough, scum! We shall send you back to Hell!" [i]All three Angels dove down, wings folded against their bodies, swords drawn back and bucklers forward. They screamed in unison a battle cry in the language of the ancients, plummeting to their foe. All for naught. Arano jumped backwards just as the Angels met in the point where he was standing. The first Angel flipped backwards in midair, swinging harshly with his blade. Arano blocked it with ease, sliding his opponent's weapon off course. The Demon God then slashed inwards, only to have his Angelic oppressor block it with his shield. Arano dashed backwards, just as the Angel recovered himself, and as the other two took to the air to engage Arano. But they barely even had time to understand his motions, let alone follow them; he pushed himself forward again, blade sheathed, and his body low to the ground. His legs shot him like an arrow, and as he came within striking distance, Arano pulled his blade out. The [u]Deloz Fury[/u] slashed out in a sharp arc. The Angel silently gasped as the sword hacked through his ribcage, completely and flawlessly cutting the foe in two. His comrades cried out in protest, but they didn't even have time to do that before Arano was hovering above them. The second Angel flinched backwards a few inches, as Arano fell right by him, gracefully landing, bending his knees to absorb the shock of the fall. The third Angel looked to his motionless friend. For what seemed like an eternity, nothing happened. Then, the right half of the second Angelic being slid downwards. Blood then sprayed forceful from both halves as his body came apart vertically, raging to the ground. The last Angel, snarling at Arano, muttered a curse, before speaking loudly and angrily.[/i] [b]Angel 3:[/b] "Demon! You shall pay for your sins! May whatever god you believe in have mercy upon your soul, for I shall send you to meet him!" [b]Arano:[/b] "Fool. You have no clue what you are up against." [i]Arano sheathed his sword, keeping his hand on the hilt. His body slowly lowered down, preparing for a very high jump.[/i] [b]Angel 3:[/b] "Do you take me for an idiot?! I have seen that move once, and that is all I need to know how to counter it perfectly!" [b]Arano:[/b] "Heh. Sure about that?" [i]His sentance ended, Arano jumped upwards at a lightning speed, his body straight at a board. The Angel folded his wings, plummeting downwards. In a strong, swift pull, the Demon God of Fury slung his blade out with a great force. Could the sword actually be seen by the naked eye, for it was moving with an unparalleled speed, it would be seen to have had a black aura, a misshaped mass of necromatic energy collecting on just the blade, with tendrils shooting off rapidly. The blades met with a clank, just as Arano yelled a sentance.[/i] [b]Arano:[/b] "[u][i]Murtaku no Uki![/i][/u]" [i]A black flash. Seemingly, space appeared in the Earth's atmosphere, with a deafening explosion ringing out in it's wake. Soon, it died. Smoke was still in the air. Everything for a solid mile was gone. Just charred ground and a blackened figure. Arano sheathed his blade, and took a near-invisible flight southward. Just as he disappeared from the range of the attack, half of the last Angel's sword, tip first, stabbed downwards into the soil. The ancient runes on the forged blade gained a golden, hazy glow, but slowly faded as all of the holy energy escaped from being imprisoned within the weapon...[/i]

That's right. I did a screen-banner. Kill me now. Mhm. Kill me now...before I nuke you. :toothy: Enjoy.

[i][center]Duck. Sidestep. Cross-slash. Vertical hack. Horizontal swipe. Stab. Block. Repeat.[/center] Arano, mostly void of all visable emotions, continued to fight his way southward from a tall buidling. He was still focused on the jump he made, falling at least twenty-five stories. Body flaired out, eyes closed, balling up, one backflip, and then colliding with the ground with a powerful quake to ignite the flare that lit his presence. Now, these pigs dared rush him. Knives, bats, machetes. Common household items. Hell, even one foolish teen had a fork. He was the first to get split in half at the waist. Now it was getting boring. With no challenge, this attack would proove to be fairly monotoneus. Still avoiding the pointless thrusts and blows from the pigs, Arano glanced upwards. They were just too stupid to run. Fools. Arano instantly kicked his legs to the side, shoulder-width, arms extened. Fire caught instantly in the dark, grey city. A huge fire ball. Fueled by a burning rage, Arano continued to force his mana outwards. For a solid minute, the sphere extended a meter per second, a giant incinerator to all who were stupid enough to wait around. When the blazing tide of heat died away, a huge bowl in the ground was carved away. Underground power lines that had not burnt up snapped and crackled with electricity. Ten city blocks down, about a billion more to go.[/i]

The Vaca, Mexico's newest coup, is shipped worldwide. [Vaca is Mexican for cow.]

Since this RPG is revisited, so is my character. [b]Name:[/b] Arano [The Demon God of Fury] [b]Age:[/b] Recorded at 14,157 [literally]; 956 [technically] [b]Alignment:[/b] Evil [b]Race:[/b] Technically a demon, but only a god of demons. Therefore a Demon God. So er. Yeah. [Fire Elemental] [b]Short Bio:[/b] His past is, in this plain of existance, somewhat pointless. He has lived for nearly a millenia, amassing his own army within Hell, should something like this happen. The army, [i]Anarchy Prime[/i], was to be used as a special forces unit of Hell's minions. Sort of the SEALs of the underworld. His abilities as a leader are strong, his power is nearly unmatchable, and his existance is shrouded. To most common knowledge, he just happened to show up on day, his powers impressing Satan, and he was bestowed as a Demon God. But it's not all muddy water. Few know the truth, but those that do keep their mouth shut about it. The truth is that Arano is not of this world. He comes from another plain of existance in which this universe is based upon. In that world, time had progressed much faster, events had transpired differently. In that world, Hell's army had moved upon the humans some fifteen hundred years earlier. They had conquered the world, beat down the Angelic forces to a huddled pile of resistance fighters, and literally raped the Earth of her life. Then, in about 6,391 A.D. [after domination], something happened. The legendary Angel General, Simikiel, led a battalion into one of the many gates to Hell. Using every ounce of power and luck, they pressed straight into Lucifer's den, and promptly ambushed him, mere moments before a messenger arrived with the news of the sudden assault. That was when Arano emerged from the land above. Tearing through a hole in space, he quickly dispatched twelve weary and off-guard Angels in a matter of three seconds. Soon, all that was left was the wise yet wounded Simikiel and the powerful and enraged Arano. It was a close fight, both deadlocked in each way. One would launch a mana-based attack, and the other would barely dodge. And then it would happen vice versa. But then, the unthinkable happened. Simikiel, in his weakened state, swung too early. Had he swung when he planned, the General would have promptly sliced Arano's head clean off. But no. His anticipation got the best of him, and he made a fatal error. The Demon God of Fury slid his blade into Simikiel's ribcage, piercing his heart with a blade forged with the very essance of necromancy. Now that the Angel Resistance was gone, and since God was a passifist creator, nothing could be done. Demons worked surviving humans harshly, making them do meaningless chores for the simply pleasure of having them under their thumb. Arano ascended into the rank of Overlord of Hades, swiftly gaining power by killing and assimilating other demons' powers. He ran the world mercilessly, and only sought to put the underworld beings in their rightful place--standing on top of human bodies. Then, around the turn of the millenia, the humans began striking back. In secret, they had training themselves in the basic magicks, and then learning holy magicks from the descendants of what came to be known as the 'Ancients', a race of half human, half angel creatures that once fought Hell's army head-on. Striking with swift surprise and power, the humans worked feverishly to advance themselves into a compitent resistance. Japan, Austrailia, Russia, China, and the Pacific seaboard had arisen into strong, smart, and most of all, holy, urban collections of fighters. They developed weapons that harnessed Holy energy and released it in various ways; humans' evolutions were hurried so they themselves could be more angelic. But it was all a front. While they boasted about having weapons of mass destruction against the demons, they secretly strengthened their mana skills. And then one day, they openly launched an attack on Arano themselves. White Mages stood back and healed warriors that fought right outside the throne room, while Black Mages battled on tirelessly to reach the beast himself. But the Demon God of Fury would not have any of this. He himself stepped up, ripping foes apart like a butcher slaughters lambs. But this was all part of the humans' schemes. They counted on Arano's headstrong nature to save them the blunt of the work. While thousands died, that number is a measly scrap compared to what would have happened had Arano just sat back and watched. But no. Mercilessly pounded, suddenly, by power-sucking White Mages, Arano lost more than eighty percent of his strength [of which in this universe he has only recovered fifteen], but still fought on. He killed the White Mages that stole his energy, expecting to be able to reclaim it. But a cleaver wool was pulled over his eyes; the Mages were not just taking his power from the Demon God, but they were transferring it. Into a dimensional mage named Teria. This young woman, shrouded in a black cloak, cast all of her mana into teleporting the entire demon army, including the master, into another universe. The far-weaker undead did not survive the trip, but Arano did. He found himself at the pits of our Hell, awakened with a weak body but a strong desire for revenge. He knows this though; Teria's body turned to stone, all life gone from that form, and she was sucked into the dimensional portal along with the hordes of the thing she so very much hated. Upon entering our world, though, she was born anew, blessed with the powers of Sigul. Of the lightning elemental, however. Strange. But true. So now, this former king has two goals; to kill Teria, and to bend the entire Earth and the heavens to the dark forces. [b]Weapons:[/b] [i]Deloz Fury[/i] -- Quite literally, it is a straight katana, but it is enfused with the very essance of necromatic powers and forged by the fires of the pits of Hell. It can never be broken or dulled as long as an evil heart exists somewhere in the two plains of existance it has been in. [b]Spells:[/b] He can charge his blade with either fire or necromatic energy to issue a devistating explosion upon contact with the blade; [b]Murtaku no Uki[/b]. A sphere of energy, a black rim with a fire-like liquid, launched in a number of ways, usually shot from the palm after being drawn back over the opposite shoulder, which explodes in a considerably large mushroom cloud of evil energy and blazing heat; [b]Enten-Ha[/b] He can slow time around him, with exception of himself, notably. This ability varies with how much mana he is putting out and with the distance; [b]Darui Itte[/b] One of his most powerful techniques is his ability to somewhat change his body when he "powers up", or rather, brings more mana into his body openly. While he is nowhere as strong as he was in the other universe, his power is still great enough that he has 'levels' of power, if you will; [b]Naraku[/b] [center][b].:Supplimental:.[/b][/center] [b]Appearance:[/b] Jet black skin, traced with numberous light scars, frames his somewhat thin, yet muscular body. He is wearing a black, baggy gi, much like that of Kenshin's, if you've ever seen the anime. Only black. He carries his sword on his left side, sheathed in a scubbard tied to his waist by an invisible line of mana. His hair is relatively short, dark, dark red, and very messily spiked. His eyes are a sharp, crisp yellow, but they are somehow still dull and lifeless, even though they look as sharp as daggers. His body is well cut, only weighing about a hundred and sixty pounds, and he stands a good six foot three. However, when he gets into a fight, his body seems to get a little taller and bulkier. [size=1][edit]Oh, crap. That bio was supposed to be [i]short[/i], wasn't it? Damn it all.[/edit][/size]

New Skin, Wake Up [Powerman 5000], Pity, Bodies, Blind, Mudshovel, Bombshell, and a lot of others. Those get me that "tingling" feeling. However, for me, that "tingling" feeling is the ever-persistant need to fight. Or, in simpiler terms, adrenaline. [That's what music you really, really like does to you. It stimulates your mind, releasing lo and behold, stimulants.]

[size=1][i][center]Darkness. Swirling images shadowed by black. Memories. Thoughts. Dreams. Nightmares.[/center] 'At first glance, it would appear that the robot in a tube filled with liquid hydrogen was in need of repair. But honestly, it was just being started. The basic frame was disfigured and contorted. Bare circuits were visible. The eyes closed, arms hanging by a few wires, legs held down by chains, head tilted back. The original [b]project : Chaos[/b]. While he was not fully able to understand it, the unfinished Chaos absorbed everything around him. Low-pitched voices, muttering about plans. Something about winter. Darkness everywhere. Destruction. All feeding into Havoc's subconcious. Images of death, explosions, bodies. All flooding into his brain. A series of nothing but a hellish world. Influence. Chaos, or rather, Havoc could remember being taken from the tank, layed on a table near his cold prison. Seeing bright, powerful lights. They blinded him for a good few minutes. Living and hearing in complete darkness, then shot into the light. Pain in every way. Cold, dark pain. The pain that makes you want to crawl into a ball and wait to die. But the pain receeded. And he was able to open his eyes. Chaos had looked up, artificial tears blurring his already-distorted eyesight. An older man, around his early sixties/late fifties. His gray hair framed face smiled down, a kind, gentle grin. A look of adoration. Then another face slid into view. Directions were impossible to guess. Everything was spinning. But this new face seemed to stick out. In a world of haze, this item stook out. It was sharp, clear, precise. Everything else moved away and then closer, a sense of vertigo, but not this. It was a solid face, one not showing any emotion. Except for the eyes. The eyes, light blue, made Chaos warm with a feeling like no other. Then, it all went black. Minutes, hours, weeks, months. Years. They all flashed by. Modifications. Corrections. Improvements. Testing. Expanding. Compacting. Fixing. Judging. Repairing. Finding. Containing. Sealing. A repetitive cycle of trail and error followed existance. Only the final moments were clear, rememberable. Sealed in a capsule, smoking engines below it billowing exaust into the lab. Levia had welded the cover top, and disabled the reploid's weapons. "Father...I don't understand." "The world has gone to Hell, Chaos. The surviving enemies of our state are going to do something. They know where we are." "Can we not fight them?" "Not now. Later, when you have developed, you and your brother will finish this vendetta." "But...where is he?" "I sent him out to scout. I didn't want him here for this." A plasma gun, similar to that of a buster, was on Levia's hand. "Father... You cannot stay here! Quick, let me out! I can help!" "It's too late, Chaos. There is a timelock on the capsule. If you are not awakened within fifty years, only your brother knows how to set you free." Levia had pressed his face closer to the glass panel on the cover. "Remember. 'Code: HAV-992'. Remember it well. It will save you." "But I--" Crashing. Slicing. Mechanical arms tore from the wall, sparks showering the walls and floors. Above, the quarz lights in the deep underground lab exploded from the power surging. Most of the power was lost, only backup remained. The electric wires sparked now, the only sources of light. Red and yellow flashed by, a green hue trailing behind. "Live long, and fight well, my son. Look after your brother." Launch had been commenced. The capsule began to quake and quiver. "Father! No! Let me out! I can help! FAAAATHHHHERRR!" The red figure turned back to Levia, who had drawn his plasma cannon. A single marking was seen, 'W'. Levia turned slowly, a tear forming in his left eye. He raised his cannon, and shrill laughter from the attacker rang, even over the rocket's roar. Blackness. Chaos shutdown as the capsule was put into the air.' -- -- -- -- -- Havoc sat up, grunting, artificial sweat pouring from his brow. His wide eyes shot around, head snapping left to right. Upon the slow realization of his whereabouts, he calmed. Proteus was next to him, saying something. But everything was airy. Vision was blurred, hearing was muffled, and his sudden alertness suddenly put him in a weary and disattatched feeling. He swayed to the side, eyes fluttering. Proteus screamed something, and Iota was almost instantly there. Flashes of light seemed to come from every direction, but it was really just Havoc's eyes readjusting to the protoneurone. But as far as he knew, his life was flashing before his eyes. The surge of vital fluids sent a message to his cybernetic brain, saying something was wrong. Images warped to mind, his pupils shrinking to dots. Life memories. Meeting Flash, Warlock, the whole Elite Sqaudron. Iota. Bass. Seeing his brother, Demos, for the first time in a century. Hunter HQ. Duke. Signas. Sigma. And Andrew Levia. Blinking once more, Havoc's senses returned. Upon this, he realized where he was. Proteus was holding him up, Iota talking loudly. All of them were in the Impact. Demos was in the Impact. Not in the lab. Not with the red fiend. Alive. Not dead. Full memories flared in his mind. Demos', mostly. Surviving the Cataclysm. Not trusting the Maverick Hunters. Escaping an attack by a Maverick, saved by the Hunters. Enlisting in the Hunter Ranks. Meeting Flash and Warlock. Making it to the Elite Squadron. Finding Havoc. The airstri--[/i] [b]Iota:[/b] "--..voc! Listen to me! Your body is just getting used to the rush of protoneurone! Focus! Come on, stay with us!" [i]Havoc nodded, finding his voice void of all movements. He reached up with his left hand, rubbing his head. Standing on his own now, he tried to remember the events that lead him to the Impact. Explosions. Darkness. The satalite. Running. Running. The blistering heat and blinding sand. Iota, Proteus. Someone screaming something. Then more darkness. Havoc shuddered violently. He never wanted to see nighttime, darkness, or anything again. His life was filled with death and memories of hatred and pain and suffering. He swore it off. Nothing would stop him from fulfilling his father's last wish.[/i] [b]Havoc:[/b] "[i]..Red fiend...[/i]" [b]Proteus:[/b] "What was that, Havoc?" [i]Havoc looked up at Proteus, as if he had never heard his voice once in these past few years. His look softened to one of a blank stare of calm serenity.[/i] [b]Havoc:[/b] "Wha..." [i]Havoc cleared his throat, still finding it hard to talk.[/i] [b]Havoc:[/b] "What'ssss...haappened...to-o-o. Huuunterr HQ?" [b]Proteus:[/b] "A lot. You had best sit down for this." [i]Havoc walked into the cabin of the Impact, sitting in the communications seat. He blankly stared at the controls, before pivoting in his chair to face Proteus.[/i] [b]Proteus:[/b] "Well. For one... Ah, well. Let's start at the beginning. The airstrike..."[/size]

[size=1]Harlequin, need I remind you that we're at the public high school, not the Institute? If you, however, wish to stay at the Institute, no problem here. Just that I don't think high schools keep beds in classrooms. O_o;; -- -- -- -- [i]As a fork in the hallways came up, Gus suddenly and sharply veered to the right. He peeled out, running faster than he previously was. Ken and Sayuri didn't bother following; they had their own plans. Gus didn't really have any special plan. Just that him, during a fire, with those two. No need to get them all arrested. The hall, leading to the library, was desolate. No classrooms on this wing of the school. Only an isolated fire escape. Then the hand reached out from the utility room on his left. As an instinct, he turned with a flash of bright, white energy forming on the top of his hand, shooting out like a sword, and just as deadly. A wraith-blade made of pure light. A sickeningly juicy squirt of blood splashed an etched pattern of frightening crimson across the linoleum floors. And the security guard slumped to the ground. The forward-curved blade of compacted light energy dissipated, shattering away in a bombardment of white fire. A small slash carved a line on his waist line. Not a fatal wound, but it was messy.[/i] [b]Gus:[/b] "Jesus...H...Christ. Sh*t, man, you aight?" [b]Rent-a-Cop:[/b] "For a m-m-mu-mutant... ...You sure care for my needs." [b]Gus:[/b] "Just f*ckin' answer my question; are you ALL RIGHT?!" [b]Rent-a-Cop:[/b] "Yeah.. I think I'll be fi-" [i]A similar blade of light plunged into the guard's face. His entire skull blazed into a white-hot fire. A charred pile was all that remained after a furious flash of blinding light incinorated all that was above his chest. Gus' lip curled posionously, as hatred seethed in his eyes. The blade disappeared in a surge of light that sent a wave of heat through the hallway.[/i] [b]Gus:[/b] "Well. We can't have people knowing out secrets, can we?" [i]Gus turned and ran once more, bursting from the fire escape door and vaulting over the ladder into the bushes. From then, he dashed like a madman for the Institute.[/i][/size]

Unfortionatly, this RPG has way too many sign-ups. Thusly, this ia a final list of those that made it in. 1) Chaos 2) Nightwing 3) PiroMunkie 4) Raiha 5) Hataki Vash 6) ShimmeringFeyd 7) Justin 8) The Harlequin 9) Ajeh 10) Juuthena 11) Ken 12) Final Flash 13) Raiha 14) Outcast And sign-ups are closed. If you didn't make it in, same reasons as before.

[i]Class seemed to crawl by now that the exciting clashes of wits and anger had ended. Something needed to be done. Something had to happen. An unscrewed chair and a false-alarm fire in a cafeteria. Kid's stuff. Gus was in his game, yet here he was, actually paying attention to his classwork. Something had to be done. So he rose his hand. Burnham ignored Gus entirely, quietly and boringly 'discussing' the choice Truman had to make when dropping the atomic bombs on Japan. Gus whistled impatiently, and loudly, while keeping his hand raised. Minutes slithered by, Burnham's voice growing increasingly enraged with each second that ticked by. Eventually, it was all shot to Hell.[/i] [b]Gus:[/b] "EXCUSE ME, MR. BURNHAM!" [b]Burnham:[/b] "What is it now, GUS?!" [b]Gus:[/b] "Well, instead of trying to argue about whether Truman was going to get rid of 250,000 lives rather than just 500,000 American lives, how about we all write an essay about how you got punked the Hell out four times in one class?" [b]Burnham:[/b] "What is this, the juvenille 'beat-on-teachers' day?" [b]Gus:[/b] "No. It's the juvenille 'beat-on-the-idiots-pretending-to-be-teachers' day." [b]Burnham:[/b] "Gus. Need I remind you that one more suspension and you'll get expelled? And furthermore, insulting a teacher is grounds for a nine-day?" [b]Gus:[/b] "No, I remember that. Yet like I said. Today's major disturbance is to rib the sh*t out of punks wantin' to be teachers." [i]Burnham jumped up, walking briskly behind his desk, watching Gus smiling as he pulled out a suspension form. Halfway through writing it, he stopped. Burnham was overcame by a small laughing fit, tossing the form away. Then he pulled out another paper. White, thin paper on top of a pink and yellow versions. Gus groaned as he realized what it was; In-School Referral.[/i] [b]Gus:[/b] "Aw, damn. In-school suspension? What the Hell, man? C'mon. Five day out-of-school suspension at most." [i]Burnham chuckled brightly, motioning for Gus to come up to the desk. He handed the problematic child the form; nine days of in-school suspension. Gus snarled as he headed for the door.[/i] [b]Gus:[/b] "F*ck. *******, one day, someone's just gonna sneak the SH*T outta you." [i]Gus kicked the partially open door wider, the wood slamming against the tile walls. The noise rang through the hall, as did Gus' muttered curses. Next stop; principal's office.[/i]

[i]Sayuri snapped her head to the left, as the same time as Gus glanced across the street. There, Ken was standing, following them with his eyes through his curtain-thick hair. A mere second later, Gus gently pulled Sayuri along with him, crossing the street swiftly, standing a few feet from Ken in the sunny afternoon.[/i] [b]Gus:[/b] "Fancy seeing you here. Ken, Sayuri. Sayuri, Ken. Now that we know each other, walk with us Ken." [i]They all turned towards the direction of the school, Ken next to Gus, but still a few feet off. They walked in relative peace, with the occasional chatting.[/i] [b]Gus:[/b] "So Ken, going to school already?"

[size=1][b]Biker:[/b] "Well now, what's a pretty, young thing like you doing with a punk like this?" [b]Gus:[/b] "Hey buddy. Why don't you take a break from the bullet-head look and get yourself some cheese fries? Or perhaps just some fries. You seem cheesy enough on your own." [i]The biker-looking thug turned his bald, unshaven head to snap towards Gus. Veins rising under his skin, face turning red. He brought his left hand into his jacket, and pulled out a small switchblade. He pointed it towards Gus, but didn't open the blade. Instead, he sneered sarcastically, coarse voice hauntingly fierce.[/i] [b]Biker:[/b] "What was that? Sorry kid, but I don't understand 'retardese'." [b]Gus:[/b] "Well, for someone that doesn't understand it, you sure speak it well." [i]With a snap of the wrist, the thug swung hard, blade slicing out from the handle with a crisp crack. Gus dodged quickly, his training in the Danger Room helping him more than he thought it ever would. The blade bit deep into a stud behind the sheetrock walls, getting lodged in the wood. The biker tugged forcefully, but the blade simply snapped off. Snarling, the biker turned around and grabbed a chair, quickly spinning around to face Gus, only to find a fist in his face. The thug stumbled backwards, onto a table where he quickly slid into the wall, knocking himself out upon to impact of his head-on collision. Gus walked over to the counter, slapping a fifty in front of the cashier, sighing slightly.[/i] [b]Gus:[/b] "Buy some plaster and get someone to buff the table." [i]Gus walked slowly back over to Sayuri, who was eating a fry. Eating, however, was not as you are thinking. She held the fry between her teeth, mouth closed in around in, staring Gus straight in the face, eyes carrying a look of slight seduction. Gus smirked somewhat, and offered his hand to help her up. She took it after quickly swallowing the french fry, before wrapping her own hand into his, and coming a bit too close than a protective parent would consider kosher.[/i] [b]Gus:[/b] "I think we should get going. Bell's gonna ring soon. And they usually call the police on me when I stir sh*t up." [b]Sayuri:[/b] "Aren't you just a bad, bad boy." [b]Gus:[/b] "Only if you say I am." [i]Gus politely opened the door for Sayuri, leading her out, back towards school. And as they left, the biker tried to roll off the table...but only succeeded in falling face-first onto the floor.[/i][/size]

[size=1][i]The harsh alarm rang out violently, the smoke pouring from the kitchen. The sprinklers kicked on, the cold water shockingly sharp. Students filed out of the cafeteria, some screaming like, well, schoolgirls. Cafeteria workers escaped through the back door, coughing excessively. Sayuri simply stood from her seat, looking around. He came swaggering out from the kitchen, hand smoking gently, oblivious to the 'danger' of a fire. Sayuri's right eye twitched slightly at the sight of him. Black shirt, with a red check in the left corner, light blue carpenter jeans, and a pair of beat-up Timberlands, and a smile that reeked of insolence and collected disobedience. Sayuri glared right into his eyes. She felt no more need to cover her antenae; all other students had fled. Clicking heels snapping against the wet, fake marble, she stalked closer, circling around the guy, both now in the middle of the wide, empty area near the tables. Sayuri suddenly stepped closer in, left hand coming to a rest under his chin, index nail poking gently under his lower lip. Her right hand came up as well, slowly combing his hair from in front of his eyes. Her cold, silver eyes shined dully, stabbing into his mind.[/i] [b]Sayuri:[/b] "Glad to see you showed yourself." [b]Gus:[/b] "Eh, I figured since you were looking for me that I'd step up to the plate. The name's Gus, by the way. Call me Gus, or Bailey. Blah blah blah. So many names for one person, right?" [b]Sayuri:[/b] "I have a similar problem, darling. Get over yourself." [b]Gus:[/b] "Care to share one of those many names then?" [b]Sayuri:[/b] "...You may call me Sayuri." [b]Gus:[/b] "Rock on. Care to skip school and get some real food to eat?"[/size]

[size=1][center][i]Whistling. That's what woke me up. I had glanced over at my clock; four thirty-two in the morning. The light was on. Or was it? No, no, it was the lamp on the side of the other bed. Kaz was up already. I rolled over, groaning loudly, before I sat up.[/i][/center] [b]Kaz:[/b] "Mornin', sunshine." [b]Gus:[/b] "You know, it's customary to wait until the alarm actually rings, Kaz." [b]Kaz:[/b] "My alarm did ring. You know, about fifteen minutes ago." [b]Gus:[/b] "No, it didn't. I would have heard it." [i]Gus arched his back forward, stretching out while yawning broadly. Kaz, who was previously sitting on his bed, got up, getting out into the hall, before disappearing from view. Gus laid back onto his bed, and closed his eyes... ... ... and sat back up.[/i] [b]Gus:[/b] "Ah, dammit. Now I can't sleep. Crap." [i]He stood up, white undershirt ruffled and messy. His long blue jeans were dirty, yet still looked fine. Gus staggered over to the small bathroom in the room he shared with Kaz. Lazily and drowsily, he brushed his teeth, showered, and got dressed. Upon finishing getting his clothes on, he glanced at a clock. [center]Five fourty-seven.[/center] Gus sighed, and walked slowly for the door. Even as he opened the door, he got the feeling someone was on the other side. With a strong pull, the door swung inwards...as did Damien. Gus smiled, catching him halfway down. Damien stood up, fixing his jacket while rearranging his hair. With a crisp, clean clearing of the throat, he looked towards Gus with a mock urgency.[/i] [b]Damien:[/b] "Now Gus, I know you have the control over light. But that doesn't mean you had to flash me, all right?" [i]It was at this point that Damien held up a computer-generated image, nothing but a lens flare. Gus smiled wryly, crumpling the paper with his left hand, tossing it over his shoulder.[/i] [b]Gus:[/b] "Very funny, 'Casper'." [b]Damien:[/b] "I figured you'd like it. And don't call me that." [b]Gus:[/b] "Whatever you say, man. C'mon. I need to get me some breakfast." [i]It was at this point that they both headed for the kitchen, to do what all teens do in the morning...procrastinate, eat inappropriate foods for breakfast, and just plain bulls*it. [center]Seven twenty-one.[/center] [i]Enjoying a repeat of SNL, Gus watching in remote interest, most of the other kids off on their own thing, when Logan happened to stalk in.[/i] [b]Logan:[/b] "Hey kid, the Professor wants a word with you. Sounds serious. What now? You manage to blow something else up?" [b]Gus:[/b] "Cute. But no. I haven't done anything explosive lately. Bah. Oh, well. Guess I better see what's on the Doc's mind." [i]Logan simply rolled his eyes as Gus jumped up, jogging up the stairs to the Professor's office. Within a minute, giving a short, sharp knock, Gus opened the door swiftly and stepped in, somewhat slamming the door shut behind him. He jokingly walked over to the desk, before sitting in a chair in front of Xavier's oak desk. The Professor simply looked blankly awake.[/i] [b]Professor Xavier:[/b] "Well, seems you're in good spirits this morning Gus." [b]Gus:[/b] "Sure am. That's because I know, positively, that I didn't destroy anything this time. Haha... For once. Ahem. Yes. Right. So, what's up Professor?" [b]Professor Xavier:[/b] "Well, this, actually." [i]Xavier pushed a paper forward on his desk towards Gus. Instantly, he knew what it was; a printout of the email he sent.[/i] [b]Professor Xavier:[/b] "Scott printed it out and brought it to me. He wasn't sure what to make of it, so he pointed it out to me." [b]Gus:[/b] "Well...it's no prank. It's true. All of it. And I figured I'd alert the students to this. They deserve to know..." [i]It was at this point that Gus' voice grew dark.[/i] [b]Gus:[/b] "And I'd give my life protecting any number of these kids from those heartless bastards. No one deserves that kind of torture." [b]Professor Xavier:[/b] "Yes, yes, I know that. I'll investigate this further. Meanwhile..." [i]The Professor turned his wheelchair to the back left corner, a tall, gruff figure. Black hair, camo pants, dark shirt. Not much could be made out in the early morning light.[/i] [b]Professor Xavier:[/b] "This is Kenneth Howell. Or 'Inferno'. He's a runaway. And a mutant. I'd very much like for you to get him introduced and show him his way around the campus." [i]Gus had no sooner walked closer, extending his hand out towards Ken.[/i] [b]Gus:[/b] "Hi there. The name's Gus. Or Bailey, as some people like to call me by my last name. But most call me 'Prism'. Nice to meet you Kenneth." [i]Ken did not move. Instead, he just stood there, arms crossed, leaning against the wall.[/i] [b]Ken:[/b] "Ken. Call me Ken. I hate when people my age call me 'Kenneth'. Sounds like they can't fu*kin' relax." [b]Gus:[/b] "Right. Ken it is. Well, Ken, we had better get going. The Institute is fairly big, and school in town lets in at eight forty-five." [i]Ken slowly stepped forward, seeming to stay dark and hidden even though he had moved from the shadows. Gus walked a little faster towards the doorway, opening it before leading Ken down the corridor. Professor Xavier moved his electric wheelchair around the desk, shutting his office's door quietly. He turned back around, heading behind his desk. He stopped halfway to his previous position, looking solemnly at the printout Scott had given him. With a quick sigh, he moved on; he still had to arrange for Ken's entry into the public high school. -- -- Gus impatiently, and vaguely, pointed out what was where and where what was, moving quickly, often having to stop to wait for Ken to catch up. Then, upon entering the kitchen, suddenly became more friendly.[/i] [b]Gus:[/b] "Well. The kitchen. You'll end up spending a lot of time in here. It's a fact. Every kid that comes into the School spends at least ten hours a week here." [b]Ken:[/b] "...Maybe I will. Maybe I won't." [b]Gus:[/b] "Right. Anyway, through the hallway on the left leads to the on-campus rooms, and the hallway on the right is the on-campus school grounds. That's for those of us that can't quite control their powers yet. Or have an amount of control, but are a danger to those around them. Like this one kid, he can control his power, which is the ability to turn into a giant fire beast, but he has a HELL of a temper. If he even so much as gets slightly annoyed, his entire body is covered in this lava-like skin and bam. Burns anything it touches." [b]Ken:[/b] "Yeah, well. I can control my power just fine." [b]Gus:[/b] "Good. But you'll still be here for a little while. Enrollment in the public high school takes a good deal of time. Either way, I have to get going. I still haven't gotten my car yet and Scott Summers, A.K.A. Cyclops, is still pissed off at me cuz I dented up his ride a little. So I have to catch the bus. Anyway, nice meeting you and all that bull. Heh. Listen to me. I sound like I won't be seeing you tonight." [i]With that said, Gus took off down the left hall in a slight jog towards his room. He passed through again, carrying a black mesh schoolbag with almost nothing in it. He yelled a few "peace outs" and the such before tearing from the front door.[/i][/size]

Bah. All those on the list and those posting after the list have made it. I went away for the weekend, myself, Vash. Look for this in AA later today. To Rai: Gahahaha...-_-;;; Must you play with out hearts like they are fragile glass toys?! To Flash: BUTTERS, SHUT YOUR GODDAMNED MOUTH!

[QUOTE][i]Originally posted by Domon [/i] [B]I don't believe that the mods...are strict, egotistical, or self-centered.[/B][/QUOTE] [Yes. My plan is working. They think I am actually humble! HAHAHAH!] Right. Uh. Mnemolth, religious topics are more or less "illegal" because not everybody is one set religion. We don't want to offend anybody with our bigoted ideas about God/Allah/A volcano god. Maybe you should think about not offending us with your stupidity. *klack-klack* [b]*BLAM*[/b] Heh... ...Shot down.

If the moderators here are too strict, then why has this topic gotten as far as it is?

[b]PERSONAL[/b] [b]Member Name:[/b] Chaos [b]Former Member Names:[/b] SuperSayian4444; SuperSayian; Medra. [b]Member Since:[/b] September 2001. [b]Current Status:[/b] Battle Arena Moderator; Official Otaku Executioner [b]Nicknames:[/b] Neh, Foo, The Ghost, Neilness, Brotheh [b]Favorite Forums:[/b] [strike]Games & Stories[/strike] Adventure Arena, Battle Arean, Art & Design [b]Favorite RPG:[/b] -Mercenaries- [b]Favorite Threads:[/b] The Favorite Sock thread [b]Favorite Smiley:[/b] :cross: [b]Most Memorable Moment:[/b] Starting the 'pirate' craze in the Padded Room Party [b]Quotable Quote:[/b] [i]J00 15 73H F00 LOLZ OMGZ!!!1[/i] -[strike]Elite[/strike]Red [b]Words of Wisdom:[/b] Life's purpose is to make those around you miserable. Use your time wisely; you can only screw so many people over per year. [b]Wish to be remembered for:[/b] Having the largest cursing spree in OB history in a 'Staff' chat a few months ago. [b]Desired Epitaph:[/b] Wait. What? I died? The Hell?! [b]Favorites:[/b] Torturing small animals, chilling with friends, games that involve mass killing sprees [i.e., GTA: Vice City]. [b]I will....[/b] .......my [u]extensive collection of e-weapons[/u] to [u]Ken[/u]...[i]because you can't start armageddon without 'toys' *glances at thermal nukes*.[/i] .......my [u]uuber FPS skills[/u] to [u]Charlie[/u]...[i]because he always seems to get hooked up on those.[/i] .......my [u]'image' collection on KaZaA[/u] to [u]Flash[/u]...[i]for those nights when his girlfriend can't come over.[/i] .......my [u]Cox cable box[/u] to [u]Piro[/u]...[i]because he needs to wake up every morning and see the word 'Cox'.[/i] .......my [u]"immortality"[/u] to [u]Raiha[/u]...[i]because the world would be lost without her sick yet somehow enjoyable forms of torture.[/i] [b]MOST AND BEST[/b] [b]Most likely to succeed:[/b] Charlie, Jenna. [b]Most likely to secede:[/b] Forte, Harry. [b]Worst spelling:[/b] The newbie that actually one time said "i goued in n blw u al up i wen lser lolz". [b]Best poster:[/b] James [b]Cutest couple:[/b] Her Majesty, Queen Tori and My Lord, King Piro. [b]Best writer:[/b] Charlie [b]Best artist:[/b] Flash [Eh, I owe him a compliment.] [b]Best...spar-er?:[/b] After myself, Charlie. [b]Craziest:[/b] A tie between Weh and Ajeh . [b]Funniest / wittiest:[/b] Sara. [b]Interesting-er-ist:[/b] ....Uh... Ken is somewhat interesting. [b]Random award:[/b] Forte gets this year's Moron of the Decade. [see if you can find the irony] [b]SIGNATURES[/b] [i]Ajeh[/i]~ Keep trying with those banners. You'll eventually get a decent program.- [i]Neil 'The Ghost'[/i] [i]Tori[/i]~ I'm glad to see you stopped caring what others thought of you and admitted the truth; you are stunningly beautiful. - [i]Neilness[/i] [i]Juu[/i]~ I swear, you're going to turn into a marshmellow one day. Anyway, I'm hoping you soon come to the realization that Tori came to, because you, yourself, are indeed very, very cute and pretty. And marshmellow-ish. o._>.- [i]Neil[/i]

Here's the list of those that made it in; 1) Chaos 2) Nightwing 3) PiroMunkie 4) Raiha 5) Hataki Vash 6) ShimmeringFeyd 7) Justin 8) The Harlequin 9) Ajeh 10) Juuthena If you didn't make it in, it was because I felt you did not grasp the story or, from what I've seen, you'd either hinder the play, or your posts were not up to par. And yes, sign-ups are still open for new recruits.

I think I read somewhere that 84% of the people in America belong to a minority. And I happen to be everything except Asian. And Swedish. I have some South African heritage since my family has lived here in New Orleans since 1827, and directly from my great grandparents I have Creole, Cajun, French, German, British, Polish, Romanian, Russian, and somewhere lost in there Apache. From my grandparents I have Canadian, more French and German, Spainish [as in Spain], almost all forms of Hispanic, like .2% of Egyptian, some Italian, some Greek, etc. and my grandfather's half cousin was Middle Eastern, and my parents were mostly French, Cajun, German, and Polish [with hints of what I have thanks to my grandparents]. So there you go. Not the biggest anime fan around, but I'm one of the most ethnically diversed person you'll ever know.

That is a problem due to the conversion from BMP to GIF. Oh well. I'm too lazy to recreate it just for the text. At least you know what it is, right? >_<

June 6, 1944 to June 6, 2003. Hard to imagine it, huh? Over 176,000 men died in just a few short hours fifty-nine years ago. This is basically pretty crappy, but I couldn't get my original idea to work. My first idea was to have the beach on the far right, the water washing ashore with blood in it, and an empty helmet right at the water's edge, with basically the same text. Unfortionatly, I found that a little too hard to do. But hey, it's the though that counts.

[i]Rapid-fire pellets of plasma ripped from under debris of a building. They tore the rocks and steel beams to shreads, making harsh holes appear through the layers of junk. After a minute had past, the objects looking like they had been through a blender, a powerful explosion kicked them into the air, along with a fair amount of dust. And from that dust, Havoc staggered out, coughing. He had been mere blocks from the Protogen attack, and was caught off-guard. He had been buried in debris in less than a second, and had been knocked off line for a short while. But look who's back again. He quickly brought up a trace map on his HUD, green lines tracing in and out with various-colored dots within the shapes the lines formed. The lines, grid displays of buildings, roads, subways, and just about everything inanimate. Blue dots signified humans, orange were Hunter-employeed personel, and red was his brother, Demos. He was pretty far off, and underground. Havoc looked around, surveying his surroundings. Fires burning madly, buildings were shattered, stone cracking and glass scattered along the ground. A huge crator was seen about fifty meters off, rubble keeping about a twenty foot radius away from it. Whatever happened, it was damn powerful. Havoc sighed, and disabled the map on his HUD. [/i] [color=seagreen]Establishing secure radio link... Please designate medium for radio link... ... ... ... ... ...Link "Satalite JH0129-Levia" entered. ... ...Loading medium... ... ... ...Medium locatled; link established. Continuing to locate subject 'Demos; Proj.Drake-Lev02' ... ...Subject located; link completed.[/color] [b]Havoc:[/b] ("Demos, where are you? It's like Hell out here. Something really ****ed the city over.") [b]Demos:[/b] ("Meet us at the outer edge of the city. Use stealth this time, brother. We have a damned situation; I'll inform you on it later. We're about half a mile from the barrier. Contact us through the satalite again when you're within the same range. Over and out.") [color=seagreen]Conection terminated.[/color]

Well, you're going to have a baby boy. Get ready for a lifetime of hatred, confusion, fighting, maiming, stealing, breaking, and all around confrontation. Or maybe the child will [i]not[/i] be like me. Good luck. Be safe. Keep him away from people like me. Drink your milk. Eat your breakfast. God speed. Shut me the Hell up.

Sky Moonflow, a callsign is basically a nickname, i.e., Cyclops/Scott Summers, Wolverine/Logan. Also, note that "installing" a version is not a literal installation. It is just a somewhat of a joke within Eden Corporations, as different 'versions' are simply different changes made to the DNA stands through radiation, gene splicing, and that sort. This RPG isn't going to be your normal "good vs. evil but everything is actually all right and dandy" X-Men RPG. It's going to be dark, gritty, and a little bit of a technothriller. Also, I think all people looking to sign up should remember to cool it down on the abilities. It's cool and all if you want to, say, just as an example, control fire, but controlling every aspect of anything remotely related to fire is too far. Some of you might not be getting the whole air of this RPG, and that's okay. That's the way I designed it. It's going to have twists and turns. But you still need to limit your powers. Remember, you're just learning how to use them. [And for those of you saying "Well wait now, Neil. What about Prism? He controls light for Pete's sake!" Well, quite simply, he's not all-powerful; but he does pack a punch. He is, also, the first of the non-captively born Edens. Thus a lot of "attention" was devoted to him, and that's how he became able to so freely use his powers.]