Chaos

[center]?Project Revamp?[/center] Eden Generations, co. 8452 Greenwood Memorial Blvd New York, New York 11209 [I]I don?t know what my cousin was thinking?trying to destroy the mutants. He was blinded, I suppose, by the notion of revenge against Xavier. Still, he of all people should know the power mutants can posses. Why kill something inevitably immortal? Since mutants are less than .010 percent different than humans on a genetic level, it would only be a matter of time, possibly within his natural lifespan, in which they could become the dominant species. Which is why we need to speed up Project 'Revamp'. Currently, we only have a thirteen (13) percent success rate with the dual abilities engineering alone, never minding the will consumption. So, in short, Doctor Hernandez, I think we should upgrade to version 2.3.3b. We also need to destroy all subjects under 1.3.1.4a. The will consumption has come a long way since then. I believe you know what I mean. I?ve heard the reports. Several escaped, and are still at large. They are our personal liability, Doctor?unless you feel we should use them as subjects in Phase Three (3). That way, we can continue our research, without having the subjects or the populace suspicious. Suspicious of us, at least. Actually, I am leaving this matter to you. I trust you to handle this, Doctor. I shall leave you with this, however; find Prism. Find, observe, retrieve, and upgrade him. Reason being, our perspective ?buyer? believes he can use him in his??cause?. But should either he or Xavier confront us with that matter, we must, [u]MUST[/u] remain neutral. By the time their personal vendetta against one another is solved, we?ll be very much so rich. -Andrew Stryker[/I] [b]By the time you finish reading this memo, it will have been sent six months to the aforementioned address six months ago. It?s content, as shown, is a note to a doctor in a blacklist, government-funded research facility. Of course, this information is not public knowledge. The only was you know, now at least, is through this forwarded email. Take heed; changes are on the horizon. Spread this far and wide, to all mutants. If approached by any number of employees of ?Eden Generations?, fight for your very existence. -?Prism?[/b] [center]- - -[/center] It?s been two years since the Weapon X facility incident, in which William Stryker tried to eliminate all mutants from the face of the Earth. As a student at Professor Xavier?s Institute for Gifted Youngsters, you, like everyone, received this email late last night. This concerns you deeply, for you yourself, are an Eden, a genetically altered mutant of titanic potential. You came from a normal home, just like all mutants. But soon after birth, when the first signs of different DNA, you were more or less sold to Eden Generations, undergoing severe gene-shaping experiments and tests. You are one of the few that made it from the facility. The thought of government agents swarming in and taking you back to that hellhole is burrowed deep into your mind. The realization that you could very well endanger the lives of everyone around you creeps into your skull just as you finish reading the forwarded message. Also, like all Edens, you remember that you are even more advanced than those around you. Some of you have dual powers; some have finely focused; yet singular, abilities, and still some?some of you are walking nuclear wars? [center][b].:Sign-Up Sheet:.[/b][/center] [b]Name:[/b] [b]Callsign:[/b] [b]Age:[/b] [b]Sex:[/b] [b]Height:[/b] [b]Build:[/b] [b]Attire:[/b] [b]Abilities:[/b] [b]Biography:[/b] [b]Name:[/b] Gus Bailey [b]Callsign:[/b] ?Prism? [b]Age:[/b] 17 [b]Sex:[/b] Male [b]Height:[/b] 6? 2? [b]Build:[/b] Muscular, but still somewhat thin. The kind of person that doesn?t really look it, but you know that they can kick your ***. [b]Attire:[/b] In regular casual outfits, usually name-brand shirts, such as Nike, Reebok, Adidas, etc, and usually black and red, occasionally wearing light blues. Almost always wears blue jeans, baggy Carpenters, and is fond of Timberlands. [b]Abilities:[/b] Able to control all aspects of light energies, including forming powerful, super-concentrated beams of pure destructive light, Prism can also very rapidly heal. This allows him to let off powerful explosions, which he is known for doing, and still be able to walk away from it. [b]Biography:[/b] Born to non-mutant parents, the first day he got home, he sneezed, and ended up expelling a flash of white-hot light, quite literally evaporating his room, and almost the entire top floor of his house. Upon reaching the age of five, with no more major accidents happening, he attended school like a normal kid, his parents hiding the truth. It was at this point, in playing kickball one day, that when he nailed the ball, he transferred some of his energy into it, surrounding it in a yellow blaze, and into the pitcher...actually, through the pitcher. His chest a gaping hole, the child fell over, killed instantly in this freak accident. Later that day, an unnamed government agency sent two representatives out to collect Gus, giving his parents around two hundred grand in compensation. This silent corporation was actually Eden Generations. It was at this time, version 1.0.0.1a was ?installed?. By using powerful gamma radiation, his genes were controllably altered to where he also had an incredible healing reflex. On a test, his disemboweled stomach healed in a matter of 32.409 seconds, a new record. His reward was a tripled amount of radiation dosage to boost that ?gift?. But, around eight months ago, he somehow escaped the facility, along with a few others, and headed upstate, until eventually he wandered into a fight between Mystique and Storm. ?Out of the frying pan and into the fire.?

There you go again, Harry. 1) Some states have WONDERFUL public education 2) Can you prove half of the people on welfare exploit? 3) Or is it most? Hell, it might be none. Until you have numbers, kindly stay quiet. -- -- -- James, to go back to old matters, facism was great in pre WWII times. Nazism greatly enheartened the people of Germany at the time. Sure, there were economic troubles, but that was war debt that was all put on the Germans' shoulders. I suppose I should have specifically said how it was "ideal for a certain population". Capitalism is about free enterprise, yes, but I've seen WalMart employees on strike because the building of a new supercenter made a small, family-owned gift store go out of business. One of the protesters had a sign that read "Power to the underdogs - Stop retail dictatorship!". A week later, I read in the paper the strike had been settled, and most of the workers got a considerably nice raise. There hasn't been a peep of complaint since then, and that was a few months ago. Now then, don't try to play me when I live neck-deep in this ********. ;)

[QUOTE][i]Originally posted by Night_Shade [/i] [B]why do guys have to be suck lying backstabbing no good cheating jerks? [/B][/QUOTE] Because you're stereotyping us. Plus it's fun. ;) Topic Morally Closed.

Two scenarios... 1) If Ken's powers weren't realized... [b]If you could have any super power, what would it be?[/b] "Pyrotelekinesis." Not a real word, but it serves my puspose; the ability to create, control, and command fire/light/heat/etc. I'm such a pyro, so this is a natural choice for me. [b]What would you do with your powers?[/b] Just about anything I feel was fitting at the time. If I wanted to make it not as hot and humid, I'd do that. If I wanted to shut up a screaming baby at a resteraunt... ...well, let's just say we'd be eating baby-back ribs for dinner. If someone pissed me off, I'd burn their back to cinders. If a building was on fire, I'd cease the inferno...and then go back once the people left and torch it again. If I saw a stray cat, it'd suddenly burst into flames. Catch my drift? [b]Would you use it to do good, or evil?[/b] 99.9% evil. 2) If Ken's powers were fulfilled... [b]If you could have any super power, what would it be?[/b] A crossbred ability of necromancy and fire attributes. The dark gifts and the most volatile force in the world. What's not to love? [b]What would you do with your powers?[/b] Basically pal around with Ken, torching and blowing **** the Hell up. Of course, it would end up like most of our misavdentures, with him being a more methodical, goal-seeking killer of a more noble cause, with some very dark secrets and a wanting for some appeasement for his past..while I would be screaming/cursing/laughing at the top of my lungs insanely while I quite literally nuked every living thing I came across. [b]Would you use it to do good, or evil?[/b] There isn't a high enough percentage of evil I could use to explain this amount of badassness.

I'm going to say this with all respect intended; "**** you all who think Bush isn't doing his job correctly." If you're offended by that, then you need to get more time outside. Anyway, capitalism is rather stupid in some cases. We believe in free enterprise, yet we look down on the "big corporations" when they take over the underdog. Socialism was a very good idea, though, in my opinion. Communism was all right, but it put too much pressure on the people. Facism was ideal for a certain population, but radical ideas from the outside that clash with the country's feelings. K4rl M4rx 0wnz j00.

[QUOTE][i]Originally posted by Lady Macaiodh [/i] [B][COLOR=darkblue]Yeah, I know. What's up with that rule, anyway? I think mods should be able to participate, too.[/COLOR] [/B][/QUOTE] I think it's to dissuade biased votes. I know for a fact some people in previous competitions were voted for/against because of their social position on the board, as well as their obligation as a Moderator/God/etc. Not that I personally care. I [i]loathe[/i] anything related to American Idol. That includes, but not limited to, this very Event. I just though I'd comment on that particular matter you and Mitch seemed to stress. [size=1]Boy, can I ramble about some ******** or [i]what[/i]?[/size] [center][size=1][spoiler]Look, Ma! New name![/spoiler][/size][/center] [spoiler][edit]Stupidity has slapped me again.[/edit][/spoiler]

Speaking of pieces of crap, I haven't seen you around lately, noir...;P [Please note that was a bad joke that will get me *****-smacked] I personally like Slipknot...a lot. I find the overall pace and content to suit somewhat to me. Mostly, however, I like [Clean] the most. Mate, Feed, Kill, Repeat was a bit too "Retro" for my tastes, and Iowa wasn't hard enough, with the exception for about three or four songs. As for the topic title, I like the Iowa version of Gently, but MFKR is still nice. And I can stand Slipknot much moreso than angry Japanese people screaming into microphones. Eh, well. Can't help that, now can we?

[size=1][center]"Shinkou Gouzoku"[/center] In the year 1802, the world was prosperous. While tensions were building upon the Western nations, the Oriental kingdoms were flourishing with the same speed. Dynasties had fallen long ago, and semi-democratic governments were installed. Home lives were seemingly perfect, based upon the ideals of charity and goodwill. Unfortionatly, life is not perfect, although it is viewed as such by the rest of the world. Corrupt politicians, inhumane laws, and harsh taxes oppress the people, yet they are bound by fear to not talk about it. Discussing changes to the hidden totalitarian rule is considered treason in the highest offence. However, there are feelings of untamed fury. They cannot be contained. They seek each other out, chi energies intertwining and melding together, forging relationships over hundreds of miles. Eventually, these powerful souls are physically drawn to each other. They then formed the [I]Shinkou Gouzoku[/I], and began openly protesting the laws and empire. At first, they were simple rallies. Then they turned to riots in the streets, and eventually, the death of a nephew of a powerful politician. This started the revolution. Open battles were fought, mostly sword battles and fistfights, but soon, it turned more gruesome. Dojos turned to the revolutionary's side, and began training undisciplined farmers, peasants, ex-soldiers, and all types into stealth-borne samurais. Assassinations commenced on just about every political supporter in high rank. Soon, setups and moles were planted. Using tactical strikes, the empire took potshots at the revolutionaries, but they were doing too little, too late. Influence throughout the villages had been lost; their weaknesses had been revealed, and they could no longer hold the people as a whole under their thumb. It was over...for the time. [center]- - -[/center] That was four years ago. The "Republic" of the old was broken for the most part, and a true republic was established. The young we trained to hate the corrupt are now holding the world in their hands. We taught them well, and they learned just as positively. But there are always the black sheep in the flock. -- -- -- -- [I]"Are you going to kill him, or should I?" [b]"You go ahead. You seem to have some vendetta against this one."[/b][/I] [center]- - -[/center] [I]Ambassador Jintouto knelt at his table, sipping his tea quietly in his silent and dark boarding room. The guards standing at the other side of the door annoyed him. The way they listened to their fat, greasy commander, but not one of the men responsible for giving them a job. His furrowed brow gave way to a vein rising in his forehead. His slightly receeding hairline gave him more of a distinguished look, or so his aide told him. His blue suit, similar to that of lawyers in the West, made him look as if he was some immigrant with too much money. But here he was. Reports of a foiled assassination attempt did not sway him from enjoying his tea. He was from a neighboring empire, and such a strike against his person would lead to war. Nothing would happen. Those revolutionaries were eliminated, and the guards had a very tight watch. Not even a fly could get through without notic? Echoing grunts and squishes came from outside the door, followed by three thumps. Jintouto stood up, pulling a small dagger from his jacket pocket. His posture was one of a man with nothing to fear, as if he had done this a thousand times before. He was in a completely relaxed state. It would not be the first time he would have to defend himself from an assassi? A very tall figure flashed from the side, the side door ripping off of its hinges. Scars zoomed by in intricate patterns, muscles rippling through a thick cloak, as green eyes pierced sharp into his for a brief second, clouded through thick black hair. And then he was gone, ?in less than a second. Jintouto dropped his dagger, his face drawn in a tense, but somehow subtle, shock. He fell to his knees, hands as his side, with his eyes growing gray. He felt numb all over. Nothing seemed to register. Not the window, not the billowing curtains, not the soft breeze, ...and not his disemboweled stomach. He closed his eyes, and fell forward...with a sigh.[/I] -- -- -- -- These are just some footnotes: [list] [*] The new empire is founded on an ex-member of the Shinkou Gouzoku. [*] The new emperor became corrupted with the chance of money and power. [*] The price of power was to turn in the Shinkou Gouzoku. [*] The surviving members of the Shinkou Gouzoku are now killers for hire, and are sparsely separated on the Japanese Isles. [*] The killer of Jintouto is already selected, and he knows who his is. He is my character's accomplice. [*] This is roughly set with [I]Kenshin[/I] in mind, just so you know the basic attitude and ?air? of this RPG. [*] Be smart about your sign-ups. No super powerful moves and godly characters. It's all good if your person is good and all, but keep it real.[/list] [b][u].:Sign-Up Sheet:.[/u][/b] [b]Name:[/b] [b]Age:[/b] [b]Height:[/b] [b]Appearance:[/b] [b]Weapon:[/b] [b]Special Skill:[/b] [center]- - -[/center] [b]Name:[/b] "Naraku" [b]Age:[/b] 34 [b]Height:[/b] 6' 3" [b]Appearance:[/b] He keeps a low profile, with a relatively short, yet very spiky black hair. He has pale blue eyes, yet they seem to grasp whoever looks into them and peers through their very mind. His striking glance often make some look to long, and that leads to a blade in the throat. He is muscular, but not bulging. He has a surprising speed factor, but his true power is his sudden bursts of strength that can topple the strongest of fighters. He wears a solid black gi, about a size too big. Perfect for mobility, but literally no protection from a blade or arrow. [b]Weapon:[/b] Attachment [b]Special Skill:[/b] [u]Gekiretsu Renda;[/u] Charging his body with spirit energy, he gains a rush of power for about five minutes, and goes furious. During this time, he is nearly unstoppable. His speed and strength go off the charts. But after this short time period, he is very much so worn out.[/size]

[i]Arano walked with a calm, cold stare pressed to the ground. His built physique was clentched tight as he headed for Azure City. He had long-since left Puchiguso Pete's Farm and was on his way to sell items he had found in the field. Drops and the such. He had also beaten the utter snot out of a few newbies who dared to try and loot him. 'Damn looters. I really hope they try and report me. I'll bust them on grounds for stealing rightfully earned items.' The sounds of struggle pulled his eyes to his right, looking out from the corner. A Knight fighting with a Sky Runner. The Sky Runner was level one, and the Knight was somewhere around level fifteen, Arano judged. Pathetic. A higher-leveled player simply jumping a complete newbie with no seemingly good reason. He had been tracking their convo over the chat agent, and it was all useless dribble. He sighed, and continued on to town. Next stop, the blacksmith shop.[/i]

[QUOTE][i]Originally posted by AJeh [/i] [B][size=1]During matches, I'll thrown in your weapons when it gets dull. ;)[/size] [/B][/QUOTE] Like Hell you will... -- -- -- -- [i]Arano immedietly frowned. Caged fighting? What kind of barbaric land was this? He came to fight, not be pinned like some wild beast. With this outrage, he kept his weapon close. Should anyone try to remove and/or confiscate it, they would be missing an arm or head. He eyed the fighters stepping up to do battle in the cage...and shook his hed slowly, still frowning. What is the purpose of a true fight if it is interefered with? How could such wholly physical limitations show nothing but a handicap? Arano stepped away from viewing the bout. It was nothing of interest if the warriors could not fight with their own accord...

One on one battles are the preferred medium for all tournament fights. It, as you said, gets way too confusing. Besides, look at DB:BF. It was a huge ol'e tourney, with one-on-one fights, one at a time, and look how great it turned out. Besides, I'm going to kick all of ya'lls asses. o.

[b]Name:[/b] Arano Karakkaze [b]Nickname:[/b] "Desert Wind" [b]Weapon:[/b] Hand Blade [I'll get a picture up soon.] [b]Bio:[/b] Born into the world of Priston, Arano followed his tribal natures, and began practicing with using pikes [Bills, Halberds, Spears, Scythes.] from the age of six. A few years ago, he became more and more serious with his attempts to get stronger. He left his hometown of Ricarten, and set out to gain experience in life and battle. The wild animals outside of the village were weak, the need to be strong dwindled due to the lack of carnivors and such, so starting his training was easy. He got new weapons and armor, and honed his skills to a razor edge. for the past year, he has gone far and wide, meeting new people, joining expeditions to clear out patches of dangerous animals. As of lately, his clan, the Crimson Winds, have been falling in numbers. He has repeatedly tried to go out and find new members, but his searches are in vain. Likely candidates are either solitary or killed too soon to be initiated. He came to this realm in hopes to find more members, but the first thing he came upon when he entered this plain of existance, was this Tournament. He looked at it more as a place to find strong and willing warriors, not as a competition.

[b]If you could choose only one new BIG feature for OtakuBoards, what would it be?[/b] We could finally change our @#$&in' names. 0_~ [b]If you could only add one new forum to OtakuBoards, what would it be?[/b] "Otaku Staff Yaoi Forum". [Long live Seph!] [b]Would you like to see a closer link between OtakuBoards and sister site, theOtaku.com? [/b] Yes, definatly. [b]Would you like to see OtakuBoards open an affiliation program with other message boards?[/b] Yes. JVF. :shifty: [b]Do you feel that theOtaku.com's chat system should be linked to OtakuBoards? [/b] Not really. To each his own; I think that's at least one thing we should keep seperate. [b]Are you satisfied with the level of spam control on OtakuBoards?[/b] Spamming newbies must DIE! :devil: [I feel the amount of control is just peachy-keen.] [b]If you could access OtakuBoards on a handlheld device (PDA, Generation 3 Mobile Phone, etc), would you access it regularly in this way?[/b] Yes, all the time. Especially during those boring classes at school. o.< [b]Is it more important to have a large variety of skins, or smaller (and higher quality) range of skins?[/b] A smaller and higher quality range of skins shows professionalism by pointing out that you don't randomly spaz **** out. [b]Would you prefer to have anime/gaming-themed skins or completely original works? [/b] Original works, actually. They just seem funner. :toothy: [b]Do you actively engage Moderators and Category Moderators if you are having problems on OB?[/b] All the time. o.< [b]Are you satisfied with OtakuBoards' child protection policies? [/b] Well, it's fairly decent.

[i]The sounds of, what seemed to be, struggle died with the same quickness that they had begun. It most likely was the Sandavals next door. They never gave a second glance to the time of day before they drank and fought. 'Not that it's any of my business.' The shockingly hot water lasted long today, as not many people were up this time of the morning. Just standing there, face in the streams of water, eyes closed, Gus would have fallen asleep if it weren't for the fact that he nearly fell over twice, doing just that. For what seemed like five minutes came upon an hour. He finally turned off the water, got out, toweling himself off. He spent another three minutes shaving the stuble off of his face, leaving only a little bit on his sideburns, but they didn't go past the bridge of his nose in length. Towel wrapped around his waist, he stepped out of his white-tiled bathroom, leaving the fan on so the walls wouldn't mildew again, moving silently, but somewhat clumbsily, to his dresser. First he put on some boxers, plaid in design, then a white undershirt. Next came a black jearsy, the number "17" printed neatly on the back in dark grey. Then, black Jnco jeans, followed by white tube socks, though the didn't go above his shin, and some Timberlands to finish it all off. In the early morning light, he put his wallet in his back right side pocket, his lockblade knife in his right front pocket, along with a half-empty packet of Winterfresh gum also in the right, and a new, fresh pack of Camel Lites, with his silver Zippo lighter, in his left front pocket. He walked quietly to the door, stopping suddenly. He turned back, to his nightstand, and grabbed his cell phone and keys, dropping them into the cell-phone pocket on his right leg, clipping the cell to the lip of the fold. He looked over to his dresser, or rather, the oval mirror on top of it, leaning against the wall. He did a once-over, making sure his gear was in somewhat order, sprayed a tiny splash of Addidas cologne on, and headed for the door again. He flipped the lock on the handle to the left, only to find that it was already there. With a second's delay, his blade came out. A Timeberwolf silver lockblade, the actual blade being three inches long, sharpened and serrated like a razor, glinted in the dim light of the room, coming from only the window and bathroom. He reached with memory alone, and flipped the switch on the wall. The room was bathed in a a low-watt light instantly, but the woman was seen none the less. Gus whipped his knife in her direction, but stood where he previously was, and his arms were held out, as if to say "What now, eh?". But still he did not move, just waited. She was in a somewhat easy chair that was placed in the den/kitchen/guest room, sitting with her legs crossed. Parts of her body were blotchy, due to the spots of dust and grime on the lightbulb, but there she was. Gus eased his way forward, watching the girl the entire time. He came to the doorway of the room, and flicked the light on. This time, a sixty-watt bulb came on, and the girl was clearly seen. A look of confusion came on Gus' eyes, as he looked her over. She seemed so familier, as if he had met her before. He eased his arms down, but kept his knife so that a flick of the wrist would give somebody a hell of a stomachache.[/i] [b]Gus:[/b] "Not that I'm a stranger to finding chicks I don't reallyh know in my house in the pre-dawn hours, but who the **** are you?" [i]Silence was the only responce he earned.[/i] [b]Gus:[/b] "Right. Okay. Okay, up. Let's go. I have to go somewhere, and you're slowing me down. Now I don't care where you go after I 'escort' you from my property, but I'd like for you to just...leave." [i]It was at this point that Sayuri lifted up her face from it's bowed position, so that she could be clearly identified. Gus took half a step back, and quickly put his blade back in his pocket.[/i] [b]Gus:[/b] "Oh, hey there. Would'jah look at the time?" [i]Without saying any more, Gus turned off all of the lights, save for the bathroom one, and headed out the front door, stepping calmly over the body in the hall, and out the stairwell, heading towards his parked, black '88 Monte Carlo...[/i]

[i]The ringing didn't stop. Just kept going, in that annoying electronic tone. Stirring those in slumber from their rest to call upon it, the cell phone was a pestering bother that shook all within it's range awake. Gus sat up, the pale florecent light from the bathroom peeking in from the crack in the door, and the hole in the doorframe. He reached up onto his nightstand, bypassing the cigarettes and grasping his phone tightly, flipping the top and pressing it to his ear. He got out from underneath the thin spreadsheet of his bed, looking as the dim blue paint of the walls around him reflected nothing but darkness. His window showed no signs of light, not even through the holes of the messy miniblinds. Within a few seconds of no responce, his agitation came to a climax.[/i] [b]"You betta' have a damn good reason for wakin' me up at four in the morning."[/b] "Gus, it's so nice to hear that you still care about me." [b]"Sonnova *****. Harley Bones Jones. Long-time-no-see."[/b] "Yeah. Got out on parole. Got the cops watchin' me, so I'mma leave town for a bit. Need you to help us both out. Remember what we talk'd about las' time we talk'd?" [b]"The hardware?"[/b] "Yup. One-hundred and thirteenth train station, section 'C', locker number 'sixy-nine'. There'sa notepad in there, fifth-to-last page is a location. Go there, talk to 'Patch A.', tell 'im I sent ya. You can use the hardware all ya want, but I'll need it back once I get back in town, aight?" [b]"Yea, dat's aight. Good lookin' out, man."[/b] [i]A click sounded on the other line, and the call ended. Gus flipped the top back down, and put his cell back on his nightstand. He staggered into the bathroom, taking off his boxers [as that was all he slept in], and got into the shower, praying nobody else would call him while he tried to relax...[/i]

[i]Bronze bucked and waved a cheerful hello to the new arrival, the entrance to Puchiguso Pete's Farm appearing quite suddenly, the long wheat stalks backing away. It was a huge, barn-like structure around back, where Arano had walked up to. It sat upon a small hill, not any higher than twenty feet above sea level, and had about a six square kilometer grazing pen at the very farthest. Arano climbed up on the fence, facing inwards, and watched the Puchigusos graze dimly. After a while, a female farmhand came out, dressed in blue overalls and wore a grey shirt underneath, with the letters "PPF" neatly printed in black on it. She had tough boots on, and smelled faintly of feed and stale hay. Her nametag said "Irkoto".[/i] [b]Irkoto:[/b] "Weeelllll, if it isn't Mister Sourpants, Arano." [i]Arano gazed her way, eyes pinched shut, with a childish, toothy grin plastered on his face.[/i] [b]Arano:[/b] "Ah, Irkoto, nice to see you, too. I just decided to come by and see how everything was going." [b]Irkoto:[/b] "Ah, well, it's all fine here. We had someone bring in a wild Baby Dragon the other day, and it's just a HANDFUL! I tell you, this thing just won't settle down! It nips at the other animals, it hisses whenever you bring it some feed, and by golly, it's made a mess of it's pen!" [i]Arano chuckled softly, turning back to the grazing field. He noticed the lack of shadow, and assumed it was somewhere between "noon and one in the afternoon".[/i] [b]Arano:[/b] "Well, aren't you glad I didn't bring one in like I planned on doing?" [b]Irkoto:[/b] "Very. Well, say, do you wanna come in for some tea or coffee?" [b]Arano:[/b] "You know, now that you ask, some iced tea would be just great right about now." [i]He literally jumped back over onto the ground from the other side of the fence, and walked beside Irkoto, as she continued her story about the troubles animals caused, into the Aid Breakroom, near the main reception area.[/i]

Um, I'm sorry, but this is more of a fan fiction. A spar is a fight similar to what you wrote up there, but it's not as cheap, and it envolves two or more people. -Topic Moved-

[i]The Mountain Cougar's paw swept forward, a blur of tan, barely differing from the wheat stalks. Arano was then thrust horizontally backwards from the force of the blow, his armor blocking the blunt of the attack. He groaned, his face ablaze with pain, as the large cat ran forward again. Arano's eyes snapped open, just as he realized his first mistake. He had been too preoccupied by trying to keep the beast in his view that he forgot to draw his weapon at the right moment. Now, he was atleast thirty yards back, and the Cougar was closing the gap quickly. With the speed of lightning, Arano rolled to the side, taking Deloz Fury off of it's Magic Holdster, something he himself fasioned, from his back. The cat landed bare inches away from him, in a flying leap, snarling. The Desert Wind then acted with all the grace of a Pike, jumping clear over the Cougar as it turned to try and bite him. The beast turned, only to have it's shoulder stabbed deeply by the blade of the Scythe. As the cat shook ferociously, Arano bucked the handle of his weapon, just at the right moment as he pulled out. The confirming crack told him the bone had been sliced right through, and collapsed inward. Now, the Cougar was somewhat defenseless. But it still crawled forward, hissing and howling, trying to get it's fangs into Arano's flesh. With a deadly flash of hatred rearing in his eyes, Arano spun around, his Scythe out, and let the Magic in his body free. A bolt-like line of electronic-blue mana flew from the blade, following him as he spun around, at the same speed, only several feet outwards.The bolt shot through the neck of the Mountain Cougar, and disappeared as Arano rounded a full three-hundred and sixty degree turn. All within less than half of a second. The Cougar did not move, only darkened in color and slowly melted away. It was not a liquid melting, but more like it sunk into the ground below. Crushed wheat stalks lay battered where the two fought, and now the animal was disappearing into them. Such was the way bodies were dispossed of. Arano swung his Scythe around to his back, let go, and felt the weapon snap onto his armor, as if pulled by a gigantic magnet. He turned north, and continued on his way, exactly like before, except with a few bruises and cuts now.[/i]

[b]Category One: Your Online Character[/b] [b]Name:[/b] Arano [surname: Karakkaze] [b]Character Base/Type:[/b] Base; Knight Subclass; Pikeman Strength: 7/10 Speed: 7/10 Stamina: 7/10 Intelligence: 6/10 Magic: 5/10 Item Synergy: 4/10 Health: 8/10 [b]Weapon/s:[/b] 1) [u]Enriched Scythe; [i]Deloz Fury[/i]:[/u] A scythe, the staff of it six feet long, with a solid mace on the end. On top, above the crest of the blade, several curved spikes poke out, making it an efficient weapon for both close range and toe-to-toe battles. The actual blade is about three feet long, is serrated, and has claw-like dagger edges at the tip. A full blow from this weapon would spell death for just about anything if placed in the right spot. [b]Appearance:[/b] (Please view picture for both appearance and weapon. Long live Priston Tale.) [b]Sex:[/b] Male [b]Category Two: Your Real Life Character[/b] [b]Name:[/b] Gus Bailey [b]Age:[/b] 16 [b]Occupation:[/b] Second Freshman year [b]Location:[/b] New Orleans, Louisiana [b]Biography:[/b] He started gaming at the age of four, starting with the old Atari 2600. He's played everything from the old Pong system to the X2. He's owned every major MMORPG since he got a computer at the age of thirteen, and he's played every Greatest Hit that came out in America since he was old enough to understand what 'Greatest Hits' meant. However, he's no gaming geek. He's one of those people that can fit in just about everywhere. At school, he can hang out with just anybody. He adapts to what's around him and acts. This makes him a great friend out of The World, and yet makes him a dangerous foe inside. He has been in The World since closed beta, but in the beginning, he didn't play as much. Only recently has he begun to play more, leveling up, growing stronger. As of this moment, no one but a select few, knows his true abilities. [b]Personality:[/b] Easy going, until you piss him off. We all know what happens then. But besides that, he's a pretty nice guy. He always seems to have some cash on him, due to his working about five jobs. He can help you out when you're in trouble, but don't expect to get away scot-free. Inside the game, his quieter, loner attitude comes out. Even in chat areas, he might say something once every five minutes. In the field though, he enjoys nothing more to simply walk through Summer Grove, making others question his sanity and strength. [b]Interests:[/b] Just about everything from gaming to sports to just relaxing. [center]---[/center] [i]Gold whipped and waved as wind swept over the wheat stalks, as far as the eye could see. The blue sky, blotched with pure, puffy clouds smiled down to Summer Grove, the sun warming all. Trees dotted the distance, but not heavily. A perfect stroll for all up to it. Puchiguso Pete's Farm was on the crest of a small hill only a few miles away. Arano's face was monotone, as usual, but his eyes carried a soft look of remote joy. The whipping wind pulled at his hair, pressed against his armor. For a brief moment, he smiled, and looked upwards, raising his arms to shoulder height. He sighed somewhat happily, and dropped his arms back down to his sides, face turning stone dead again. His eyes, however, were smiling on their own. For several more minutes, he just walked not caring of the fact that he was wasting time. He enjoyed this, and by God, he would take his damn time. But with the hollow wind, a soft growl came. In an instant, his entire body structure changed. He crouched, head still above the stomach-high wheat stalks, gazing around with keen eyes. Then he say it. A Mountain Cougar. Like any member of the big cat family, it was lying low to the ground, inching forward to Arano's left. It's liquid muscles flowed underneath soft fur, and it's tail was slightly arched. Just like it came from the real world. With one exception, however. It was the size of an elephant. Arano reached behind his back, and grabbed the staff of Deloz Fury, just as the Mountain Cougar charged with the speed of a cheetah.[/i]

Considering that was all done in Paint, VERY nice Russ. Good job. :) Only thing I can pick out is the German flag-looking box in your last one. What the?

Personally, this game could have been better. I think it'd be much better if they had waited a little bit longer for release and then included the entire DBZ series. But let's not go into that, shall we? No Rick, there is no SSJ4 Goku in the game. Nor is there a SSJ3 Goku. Whoever tells you that just made some codes for Codebreaker or GameShark that edits his appearance whenever you transform. I love the gameplay. Before this, Tekken was my favorite fighting game. Now, Tekken has hard hits and sudden knock-outs [ala Bryan's combos], but the actual gameplay is slow and clunky for the most part. This is where Budokai shines. Hard hits and fast action. I think they could have made the cell-shading a little less bright, and possibly made the damage progressive. For example, let's say you use Vegita's Big Bang Attack against Android 19. Instead of destroying everything for about a thousand miles, how about just nuking the somewhat close area where the blast hit? I think they also could have made clear damage on the characters as well. Like, for example, you have Kakarot fire a ki blast [which should, in my opinion, be able to charge up the longer you hold circle], and Furiza blocks it. Now, shouldn't Furiza be a little burnt up and just smoking a tad? As for the combos, I like them like that. Those horrible days of MK2 on N64 and Killer Instinct Gold are finally behind me. But not all of them are easy. Take a look at Nappa's Bomber DX. That things a ***** if your opponent just hounds on the guard. You have to remember, too, that the game is aimed for younger kids. Even though it's rated T...V_V

It's a simple matter of transfering energy from one person to another. I thought that concept was commonly known. Guess not. =/

The only killings done by guns are accidents and murders. Let's just make sure everybody understands that. It's also, by the way, a medical fact that you cannot die from a gun. At least, not a firearm by itself. It's not the weapons, it's the person welding it. If you took away the right for U.S. citizen to own a gun, what? You think that would stop all crimes? Okay, hypothetical situation. All guns in the world are melted down. Production of guns can never happen. You know what? I have about four lockblades in my bedroom. If I wanted to, don't you think I could do something with them? Not to mention that the Bill of Rights is iced and cemented.

[b]Name:[/b] Gus Bailey [b]Nickname:[/b] 'Jo', 'Fury' [b]Age:[/b] 16 [b]Appearance:[/b] Imagine a tanned white boy, with black hair, icy blue tips, with a weary yet handsome face. This young man stands about six foot one, and is considerably well cut. While not buldging with muscles, he is quite strong, and one of the only things that can match his need to get stronger is his fiery attittude. His disposition leads to make his eyes, coated with sharp green colored contacts, harsh and deadly. Quite fitting, actually. He tends to wear dark clothing, mostly sticking to Nike and Reebok-endorsed threads, shoes, hats, socks, you name it. [b]Character Sketch:[/b] As mentioned before, he has a nasty attitude. This comes from a very broken home and years of living in slums. Growing up in the lower class districts, Gus grew to hate just about everything. His parents, the police, the laws, the viewpoints of the world, the attitude of rich people, the world in general. He tends to be very violent whenever he talks, acts, drives, drinks, or just about anything. His volatile nature and nonconformist ways have time and time again brought him against the law, not to mention several Animal Rights activists. He still goes to school, but he does happen to skip just about half of the days that are designated for actual work. The only reason he goes to school is so he has something better to do than get arrested or get into fights with random people. Currently, he is living with his older brother, a 'buisnessman', living in an apartment complex on the edge of the middle and lower class establishments.

I just thought of two more things that piss me off: 1) People who bash America. 2) People who list their likes/dislikes. [If you can see the irony here, then good job. If you can't, suck on a gun barrel, because you deserve it. In all honesty, too, I'm serious about number two. *levels .45 to his forehead*]