ScreamSin

So, this is the Backstage area for Hunters: Grand Apocalypse. Any questions, suggestions, feedbacks, praise, insults, whatever you feel is necessary to discuss or ask me, you ask here. If you have a question for a specific player, feel free to ask them here as well. A list of the current characters and players --ScreamSin -- Night and Villains --Drizzt Do'urden -- Ty --Knuckles' Girl -- Thea --Cheesemaster -- Skylar --Tetra of Sound -- Kurai --Xemos -- Rasic --konske -- Cal --Nessaja -- Senka --Esbell -- Benoit

Huh. Thought this thing died awhile back. Well, everyone's got good characters. I'll leave the sign ups open for a day or two and if you're all still interested, we'll start it.

Night headed towards the garage, rummaging through his pocket for keys to his car, an aging black 1968 Chevelle. It was kept in....acceptable...condition. Night hated working on cars. He unlocked the driver side door, then paused and looked at Skylar silently for a moment. "Learn to get here on time, or I'll start putting you on guard duty back here at the mansion. Get in." The hunter unlocked the passenger door and hopped in. The door slammed shut as Skylar took her seat. She barely managed to clip her seatbelt on before the tires suddenly squealed out, and the Chevelle rocketed off into the city at breakneck speeds. Night topped out at 70 miles as he swerved through the one or two cars actually out at midnight. He was silent the entire trip before the car spun around and parked neatly into a tucked away alley. Night glanced at Skylar as he unbuckled. "Let's go. Docks are about 3 miles. Keep up, stay in the shadows, and stay on foot. If you get hit, yell." "Why'd we park so far away?" "Because I don't want anyone to touch my car." With that, the red cloaked hunter took off down the alleys at a swift jog, sword shouldered as he rounded the corner.

Night glanced around with his usual scowl before speaking. "Listen up. We've got several targets tonight, and as usual, you're all going in groups. Watch each others back, keep each other safe, and come back alive." With those words, he began to number groups of four off. Dispatching them to various parts of the city, the group slowly dwindled down to just a handful. "Ty, take the new guy, Rasic, to the tech center of town. Several people disappeared there a few weeks ago, and police won't go near it. Probably bribed by Acolytes if not Acolytes themselves. Watch each others backs, I have a feeling you're in for a rough night." The red coated Hunter glanced at Kurai. "Kurai, go with Cal. Jonas, you're with them too." Jonas, a relatively young hunter, nodded and stepped next to the other two, rolling blessed bullets around in his palm as he thumbed the pistol holstered to his waist. Night pointed at the three. "You three are going to a construction site in downtown. Reports of large 'dogs' seen running around at night. I'm betting they're hell hounds, but I doubt they're alone. Be careful." With that, Night pivoted on his heel and stared at Thea. "Thea, you're checking out an abandoned hotel scheduled for demolition. Be careful, seven people have disappeared there in the past two days and you're going in alone." The hunter shouldered his blade again and headed out the door, yelling his final words to the group without even turning. "I'm heading to the docks. If you need backup, call me."

[CENTER][FONT="Century Gothic"]HUNTERS: GRAND APOCALYPSE "I can only imagine the look on their faces when I show them what I've done..."[/FONT][/CENTER] Night sat idly in his chair. He was staring at the fireplace, watching the flames and obviously lost in thought. The large grandfather clock he kept in his room ticked off the seconds softly. 4 minutes to midnight. The room was quiet, short of the crackling fire and the ticking of the clock. 3 minutes. The hunters red eyes flicked to the sword mounted to the wall. A giant claymore with a serrated blade. The word Vendetta was etched into the hilt. Night returned to staring at the fire silently, his black bodysuit giving a dull reflection of the flames across his face. 2 minutes. The Hunter shut his eyes, breathing slowly as he shifted in the chair. 1 minute. The clock chimed midnight. Night's eyes snapped open. He stood, pivoting over to his bed where the heavy red trench-coat lay. With a swift movement, he pulled it over his shoulder and straightened the collar. Zipping it up, he grabbed the handle of Vendetta and shouldered it. He kicked the fireplace shut, watching as the fire died out slowly, before heading out of his room in the Sierra Mansion. The mansion had been in his family for generations, and now served as both home and headquarters to the Hunter organization. Any of his hunters could come and go as they please, and the copious amounts of extra rooms allowed those with no home of their own to take residence with Night. The red cloaked hunter walked down the stairs towards the huge double doors. Several other hunters were filtering out of their rooms. Night stood in front of the doors and waited for them all to assemble so he could dispatch their orders. Tonight would be most interesting, judging by the reports of all the missing people. Night glared around as more and more of his hunters gathered in front of him. Those who didn't live in the mansion were arriving by whatever transportation they could. Cars pulled into the large garage, motorcycles, and even several half daemons landed in the courtyard and headed inside towards the gathering. --------------------- --------------------- The large man standing in the warehouse tapped his foot slowly on the cold floor. He looked around at the assembled Acolytes. Some wore robes denoting a higher rank, others in civilian clothes so as to not attract attention. The man surveyed them with a look of both arrogance and disgust. Horns dotted his chin in a corrupt stubble, and his eyes glowed a bright green. White teeth, like that of a piranha, filled his mouth. His name was Mortus. A Greater Daemon who acted as eyes and ears on Earth for the Lords of Hell. He wore only jeans, no shirt or shoes. His toenails and fingernails were sharp and pointed and his skin was a deep brown, almost a red. He looked around, whisps of his white hair trailing in front of his eyes. "[FONT="Impact"]All of you be silent![/FONT]" The Acolytes immediately went quiet at his words. He glared around. "[FONT="Impact"]It's time to begin. I want no mistakes on any of these summonings. All of you know your tasks. DON'T fail me![/FONT]" Mortus glared out at the room. A large rune, painted in blood, covered most of the floor. In the center were 8 people, tied and gagged, unconscious. The daemon gave an inward smile. These pathetic creatures would be the fuel for the Emissary's arrival. Elsewhere in the city were pockets of Acolytes doing their own summonings. Beasts and Imps would soon roam the streets, solidifying the hold Hell had on this pitiful city. "[FONT="Impact"]What are you waiting for? BEGIN THE CEREMONY![/FONT]" --------------------------------- ((Simple really. Hunters, go to Night for your assignment. Acolytes, you know what you're to do. Let's have fun everyone.))

Accepted Characters --HUNTERS-- Drizzt Do'urden - Ty Knuckles' Girl - Thea Cheesemaster - Skylar Tetra of Sound - Kurai Xemos - Rasic konske - Cal --ACOLYTES-- Nessaja - Senka Esbell - Benoit Sign ups are now closed.

Huh, things suddenly kicked up rather quickly. So far, the people accepted are as follows: --HUNTERS-- Drizzt Do'urden - Ty Knuckles' Girl - Thea Cheesemaster - Skylar *still need to fix that thing I mentioned to you however* --ACOLYTES-- Nessaja - Senka Esbell - Benoit konske, I sent you a message with my issue on your character. We'll discuss it and see if we can't work a way around it so you can join. Sign ups are still open for one more day, then we'll start. Hope you're all looking forward to it. :)

((Esbell, you're accepted buddy. Glad you can join. Nessaja, when your bio/personality are updated, I'll make my decision on your character. We'll start soon, I'll give one or two more days for any straggling sign ups, then send out notes when we begin.))

You two are accepted, both are good characters. I forgot to mention, if you feel up to it *and we don't get a lot of characters* you are more then welcome to play as two characters.

((Let?s be clear on something. This is a fun, action RP meant to amuse and get your daily dose of whoop-ass, but I also plan on having a lot of times for characters to develop and interact. If you aren?t up for a lot of battle and conflict along with character interaction, don?t sign up. I expect characters to interact and have their own story lines alongside the main plot. If you can?t deliver, don?t join. Also, if you go half-daemon, DON'T give me some kind of Inuyasha rip off. I won't even consider your sign up.)) [CENTER][FONT="Century Gothic"][SIZE="4"]----Hunters: Grand Apocalypse----[/SIZE][/FONT][/CENTER] [SIZE="4"]M[/SIZE]illennia ago, the daemons ruled all of man. Their burning shadow fell across all of Earth. Until the humans rose up to reclaim their world and their souls. Wars ensued, ultimately ending in the daemons glorious defeat. Following the Shadow Lords? fall from power, the humans rebuilt their civilization. The monsters faded into the past, as did the wars between the two races. The champions of the humans died, and faded from memory. Now, centuries later, humans only know of the term daemon as a fairy tale, a myth. If only this were true. The daemons have returned, preying upon the humans in the city of New Vista. But, they do not nearly have the once mighty empire that they used to. Now, reduced to scavengers, the daemons have begun to rely upon the humans themselves to summon them in. Recruiting Acolytes with promises of power and wealth, they are little more then nightmares, not even able to withstand sunlight. Another obstacle has stood between the daemons and their return. A group of vigilantes, known as Hunters, now stalk the night as well. They excel at killing, and have only one purpose - to slay daemons. Wielding blessed weapons, the Hunters strive to maintain the balance of power between daemon and human. ((Basic premise of this RP is that you?re a Hunter, someone trained to fight and kill daemons. You may also join as an Acolyte if your one of them evil types. Hunters wield blessed whereas Acolytes wield cursed weapons and daemonic magic. You can also be a half-daemon (Hunter or Acolyte) and not wield a blessed or cursed weapon. Half-daemons are incredibly strong and fast, and can only belong to the Hunter team, as they?re not particularly liked by Acolytes and true Daemons.)) Name: Age: (half daemons can be a max of 500 years old) Gender: Race: (human or half daemon) Team: (Hunter or Acolyte) Appearance: (picture or a description is fine) Bio: (how and why you became a Hunter/Acolyte) Personality: (what is your character like?)) Weapons: (max of two for all. Hunters have one blessed weapon. Acolytes have one cursed weapon. Half daemons have one body weapon (claws, teeth, wings)) Magic: (only available to Acolytes. Max of three spells (no instakill please. Keep it simple.)) [B]Name: [/B]Night [B]Age:[/B] 42 [B]Gender:[/B] Male [B]Race: [/B]Human [B]Team: [/B]Hunters [B]Appearance: [/B]Standing tall at 6?5? and weighing in at 275 lbs of muscle, Night is quite an impressive man. With wild shoulder length hair the color of steel, rugged features covered in scars and creases of age, Night appears to be somewhere around the age of 67. His deep red eyes *a symbol of his title as Night of the Hunters* are sunken and creased from stress and responsibility. His face is set in a permanent scowl and he often has coarse stubble on his chin and throat. The most prominent feature would have to be the large ragged scar tracing from the top left of his forehead down to the right corner of his lips. He has the overall appearance of a man who, at some point, was probably very handsome. However, he seems to merely be a tired old man who?s running out of strength. [B]Bio: [/B]The leader of the Hunters, he is a direct descendent of one of the heroes from the original wars, though which one is unknown, even to him. His family has protected the world for millennia, but he was the first to start the organization after being overwhelmed during one of his patrols. Recruiting both humans whose lives had been shattered by daemons as well as half-daemons, Night has organized a team of daemon slayers who excel at their job. Night has been fighting for 30 years of his life, having been recruited into the war at the age of 12 by the Night before him. He is steadily losing hope that he will ever be able to put down his sword, and with that realization comes despair. His skills are waning with age, and he grows tired of the burden of his responsibility. [B]Personality: [/B]Night is a proud and confident soldier, with little in terms of what could be called a ?bedside? manner. Lately, as age and stress are beginning to catch up to him, he finds his reflexes slowing, his prowess waning. As his body weakens, so too does his resolve to keep fighting. Night is finding it harder and harder to continue his war against the daemons, and fears that he will soon slip over the edge and give up. [B]Weapon: [/B]Giant serrated claymore named Vendetta.

In a cozy town against a river, the warm town of Benista, there's a quaint toy shop. Run by the kind Mr. Grinner, the shop is a town landmark, the only building to have survived a catastrophic fire during the 80's. Now, 20 years later, it stands as a reminder to the townsfolk of their past. But, Mr. Grinner, for all his warmth and gentle loving nature, has a secret. He always loved children. That's why he started up the toy shop. Hand carved wooden puppets, sewn dolls and books containing lullabies and bed time stories line the walls. Toys from every day and age, from modern robotic action figures that respond to voice back to a marionette dangling from the ceiling, Mr. Grinner has them all, and he's well loved by the town. However, there are toys no one ever purchases. When asked about them, Mr. Grinner merely smiles and says they have too much sentimental value to sell. There's a bit more to it then that...but surely, you guessed that right away, didn't you? Let's begin our story...when everything went wrong. -------------------- ((Welcome to the Doll Shop children. Here, you will take up the role of being a Cursed during a time when something strange is happening in the town of Benista. People disappearing, the sound of a little girl giggling heard in a shadowed corner. People are starting to get freaked out, and it's about to get much worse. What is a Cursed: A Cursed is someone who had the misfortune of picking up one of the Curse toys. You now bear whatever curse the toy brings, which is whatever you decide the curse to be. How do you cure the Curse? You have two options. Option A is to kill off another Curse and use their soul to feed your toy, thereby freeing you. The other option is to find where the Curse originated, and destroy the source. There is an upside however. With the Curse comes an ability, something that lets you fight other Curses. Each one is unique, and while it's nothing amazingly powerful, it does give you an edge. What this power is I leave entirely to your discretion, but if it's overpowered or there's no way to counter it, I will ask you to change it. Also, if you have a buddy, and you guys want to enter with a tandem story, feel free to do so. You don't need to be a Cursed if you're playing as someone's close friend and they're Cursed. I encourage intertwining story lines. You will NOT start as a Cursed, you will find your toy in the RP during an incident. Kapish? Now, if you managed to understand all that garble, here's the sign up. If you got confused, feel free to ask me to explain a bit more coherently, and I shall do so.)) -------------------- Name: Age: ((No limit, short of regular human lifespan)) Gender: ((Male or Female)) Physical Appearance: ((Good description or a picture, either one is good.)) Curse: ((What is your curse? Be creative, I want you guys to make some spectacular ones here! It has to ACTUALLY be a Curse as well, something that will kill you if left unchecked, just veeery slowly)) Curse Toy: ((What toy are you bound to? Give a good description!)) Ability: ((What power does the Curse give you?)) Personality: ((What are you like?)) Background: ((Short and sweet, don't give me a novel here. Tell me your current situation, if you're a native to Benista or if you moved there, etc etc)) Name: Bryan Bornes Age: 19 Gender: Male Physical Appearance: 6'5", Bryan is a thickly built guy. Weighing about 220 lbs, he's a little out of shape, but still healthy. With a thick mop of light brown hair topping his head, the bangs hanging down just above his greenish blue eyes, Bryan tends to stand out in a crowd. He wears black rimmed rectangular glasses and often wears jeans and t-shirts. He has a normal skin tone, and a fairly deep voice. Curse: The Laughing Curse - Bryan's soul is slowly leaking into the toy he is bound to, and he's steadily losing control of his body. Becoming clumsier and weaker, he'll soon be trapped entirely into the Clown. As he gets weaker, the sound of bells jingling begins to accompany him and he begins to hear laughter, like that of a clown. Curse Toy: A Clown Doll. About 3 feet tall, with an oversized black top hat. The face is a polished gold colored mask with a huge grin and black crescents for eyes. The doll has a huge black and gold ruffle around it's neck, and wears a black suit with yellow trimmings. The boots are curled at the end, and have small bells on the tips. The left shoe is gold, the right is black. Ability: Bryan's curse gives him the ability to send out powerful screams that can shatter glass and even break stone if held long enough. The shrieks have a strange giggling undertone. Personality: Bryan is a sarcastic guy whose prone to mood swings. Generally, he swings from neutral to annoyed rather quickly. Usually, he's a mellow nice guy who doesn't really talk that much. When approached, he gives polite conversation, and depending on how he likes the person, may keep it simple or pursue the topic further. Background: A native to Benista, Bryan has lived there his whole life. He moved there after the reconstruction was completed after the fire. He lives with his mom and dad in the newer part of town, alongside the river. Fairly well liked by most of the town, though most people find him a little arrogant. He's often seen walking his dog around the markets, window shopping.

I'd have chosen to be a teen, but unfortunately, I think we need a base of freaks before the teens. Name: Bryan Age: 19 Object binded to: Clown Doll. The doll is about 3 feet tall. It has a giant black top hat on top of a golden grinning face. The eyes are highly polished black, reflective. He wears a gold and black striped suit with a large ruffle around the neck. Black gloves cover his hands, and his shoes are gold and curled at the tips with golden bells on the ends. Appearance: 6'3" and 220 lbs. A little out of shape, with short black hair, his bangs usually parted down the middle. Usually seen wearing a white t-shirt and jeans, with black sneakers. Usually grinning his head off, regardless of his predicament, he has green eyes. Bio: Bryan entered the Carnival on a whim during one of his insomnia bouts. He wandered in, hoping to find something he could take as a souvenir. He found the clown doll and decided to take it only to become bound to it. Personality: Jovial and sarcastic, Bryan always strives to keep others from falling into a situation like his own. At night, if anyone wanders into the Carnival, Bryan will go out of his way to help them escape and avoid being bound. However, he has a fatalist attitude towards his own binding, believing himself to be eternally bound in the carnival. While he helps others, any attempts to help him are met with refusal to even attempt the deed. Other: He has a high shrieking laugh that resembles that of a crazy person, but he's very warm hearted. He finds almost anything funny, and doesn't seem to be fazed by anything, even threats. He isn't worried too much about anything, after all, what could possibly happen to him more then what already has?

Thanks! I rather enjoy the fruit drawings

[URL="http://www.evergraceonline.com/artstrawberryscream.htm"]Click here for the Strawberry WAAAGH![/URL] ...It's a strawberry. What else is there to say?

[URL="http://www.evergraceonline.com/artcirceexpressions.htm"]Sketches of my OC, Circe, and her various expressions.[/URL] [URL="http://www.evergraceonline.com/artsable.htm"]Sable, a drawing I did somewhat recently. I like how it turned out.[/URL]

Wha? Serious? Damn...[URL=http://www.deviantart.com/view/33393952/][COLOR=Teal]here's a link for those who can't see the picture.[/COLOR][/URL] If it still doesn't work, I'll just attach it.

Haven't been here for quite awhile One of my newer drawings. This is what I do when I should be doing geometry. Comments or Critique would be nice. [IMG]http://ic1.deviantart.com/fs10/i/2006/136/6/7/Deadly_Tango_Partner_by_ScreamSin.jpg[/IMG]

For a chibi, you nailed the proportions dead on. Those are very hard, even when drawing chibi. Its very good, though I dont like his hair. Looks like he has it pinned up in a bun, but thats more of a personal flavor choice then actually critique on the drawing itself. Very nice. What did you color it with, if you dont mind me asking.

My thoughts immediately turned to Fushigi Yugi. Unfortunately, it is very difficult to come up with original ideas...however, I would change the object from a book to something else. Books have been done to death. Dont use an amulet either...go with something original, but not too strange. Like an article of clothing, or even something completely random that is actually from another universe. Maybe change the parallel universe to something more like the current universe became warped through the objects power. As for names, I can't help you unless you gave me more on the characters. If you want any help on this, I would love to offer my assistance. Just ask. Good luck!

[CENTER]Welcome to Knockdown High. A boarding school deep in the mountains. Here, the kids do not learn about english or math. They learn how to fight. The students tend to have violent tendencies that their parents couldnt handle. So they shipped them off to this school. Now, having become skilled swordsmen and hand to hand, the students have begun to look forward to the one thing that promises graduation from Knockdown. The annual Combat Trials. Held at the end of four years, anyone who enters and wins is graduated. However, this year is different. Several foreign students have been transferred to Knockdown, and they've been causing more trouble then usual. ----------- ----------- Probably should've made this earlier. This is for Knockdown High, an RPG that's based heavily on fighting. Current people in RPG are: [B]ScreamSin - Tom Kasansky Lionheart - Lee Matsuo cheese master - Kara Hunn Venge - Matthew Wayne Duffey Bullet Theory - Jake Blaid Lyuann - Donya Filum Starwind - Tory Guile SlowChemical - Faith Heartnet digiX - Tikameru (Tika) Kietaka[/B] If anyone is confused or wants a question answered, ask here and I'll try to answer as best I can.[/CENTER]

Tom waited next to the giant computer screen that was the Board. Here, announcements were constantly scrolled through everyday, mostly announcements of bouts and tournaments. Tom twiddled his blade again, his mind kicking around various scenarios. Obviously, the teams would be a mix of different styles. This would give the group a fair ground to fight on. Tom stopped the blade as the screen suddenly lit up. A huge list of names hit the monitor like lightning. Tom rose up and scanned for his name. "Eh?" [B]Team 79 - Matthew Wayne Duffey, Tory Guile, Faith Heartnet Team 80 - Thomas Kasansky, Jake Blaid, Kara Hunn Team 81 - Lee Matsuo, Tikameru Kietaka, Donya Filum[/B] Those three teams caught his eyes, especially the names of his partners. Jake and Kara...Martial Arts and Staff. Though Tom had never really met them personally, he did know a little about them. Jake was a somewhat hospitable guy. Kara was the one the worried Tom. She had a bratty personality that rubbed Tom the wrong way. However, he couldn't doubt her skill. For the most part, until these three teams crossed, the outcome would be fairly certain. Tom turned and shouldered his blade. Two weeks to train with his partners. He sat down. They would show up, read the list, and meet up with him. He shut his eyes and waited. --------------- ((I tried to keep the teams somewhat balanced.))

Hmm...I disagree. I found tracing doesn't help me in any way. I like to develop my own style. Im not saying its a bad method, Im just saying it doesn't work for everyone. My advice? Get some drawing books. Not tracing, or copying books, actual drawing books. Like you, I can't start off with the circle thing either. It's surprisingly difficult. It took me all my life to get to my current level, and I'm still learning, so dont expect a whole lot in a short amount of time. Take a class if you aren't a self learner. It'll shorten the time up a bit. If you want to see some of my own art, so you can see what I mean by developing your own style, go to my webcomic in my sig. Dont be afraid to experiment with different styles either. Other then that, all I can say is PRACTICE PRACTICE PRACTICE! If you want any more advice, I would love to help you out, so dont hesitate to ask.

Tom stretched as he walked into the sun. He squinted and glared at it. His blade shimmered as he swung it in a quick arc. He grinned slightly, pushing his glasses back up as they slipped down his nose a little. He took three steps before an announcment rang out over the school through the speakers. "Attention to all year four students! As many of you know, a tournament is to be held in two weeks. Though there have been many rumors, most are wrong. There will NOT be a prize for winning, however it is mandatory that you participate. Teams will be of three people. To see your team, please look at the Board at 5:00 pm tonight. You will have two weeks to train with your team mates. Remember, you MUST participate, or you will not graduate this year." The crackle of the speakers as they shut off shook Tom from his trance. Teams of three? He checked his watch. 4. One hour, and he would see his team mates. Tom was hoping he wouldn't be put with one of the foreigners, as most were all arrogant and weak. A fatal combo in the arena. Tom knew most students here were little more then violent, but he did know that there were...others. They were like Tom, in that they were powerful, fast, and skilled. Tom twirled his blade in another glittering arc. "...Hell just kicked the flames up a bit..."

Tom stared at the wall. He had left Mr. Jacob's class along time ago, and had entered the cafeteria. He bounced the pommel of his blade back and forth between his palms. He sighed and stood up, glancing around. He froze as he saw a group making their way over to him. It was five of the new foreign students, the transfers. Tom shouldered the blade. Apparently, they were looking to make a niche for themselves by beating someone up. Since he was alone, Tom seemed an easy target. He stared at them as they formed a semicircle. One, a large guy wearing a muscle shirt and leather gloves, walked up to him. He grinned in the normal tough guy manner. Tom still had the bored air around him. "Vell, dont you look calm? I vonder vat's on your mind?" Judging by the accent, he must've been from deep Russia. Tom sighed. "My mind is a place kept to myself. It is not a place for you to wander in." He turned to leave. The goon gripped his shoulder. "I vasn't done talking!" Tom twirled once, and the Russian fell to the ground, gripping a gaping wound in his chest. The others backed away quickly. "You...you're using real veapons! Isn't that against rules?" Tom bent over and gripped the Russian's throat. "This isn't your normal school. Most of the people here won't use real weapons, and they're fools! But, there's a select few here who wont hesitate to kill you. Im in a good mood today, so I'll give you a warning. Dont fuck with me." Tom sat back down as the foreigners dashed off, leaving a small blood trail. Tom glanced around. These transfer students were picking on everyone, even people who had no chance of winning in a fight. Tom leaned on his sword. He smiled contentedly. He had heard from other students that in around a week, a tournament was going to be held. So far, it was groundless rumors, but one rumor had piqued his interest. It was said that it would be with real weapons. Teams of two would go head-to-head in the arena, and whoever came out on top got the prize. Tom closed his eyes and twirled his blade, its tip making soft scratching noise in the tile.

Welcome to Knockdown High. A boarding school deep in the mountains. Here, the kids do not learn about english or math. They learn how to fight. The students tend to have violent tendencies that their parents couldnt handle. So they shipped them off to this school. Now, having become skilled swordsmen and hand to hand, the students have begun to look forward to the one thing that promises graduation from Knockdown. The annual Combat Trials. Held at the end of four years, anyone who enters and wins is graduated. However, this year is different. Several foreign students have been transferred to Knockdown, and they've been causing more trouble then usual. -------------------------------- Tom jogged down the steps of his dorm. It was early morning, and it was turning out to be a sunny day. Tom cursed as he squinted against the glare of the sun. "Damnit...I hate sunny days..." He shifted his shoulders around, rolling the large leather strap that held his sword across his back to a more comfortable position. He straightened his shirt, dim red leather, and dusted off his pants, also dim red leather. Rolling his neck, he jogged off to his trainer, Mr. Jacobs. The old man was the mentor for the entire swordplay dorm, and he was damn good at it. He often gave them wooden blades with lead cores, making them actually fight. Tom's collarbone was broken in one such fight, but just like Mr. Jacob said. "How can you learn to fight if you're afraid of pain?" Tom quickened his pace. He was running a bit late. The massive halls entered his view. Four, laid out in a square, each one for a different dorm. Swordplay, Stave Training, Wrestling, and Martial Arts. Tom headed into the East Hall, and cursed as he saw the others already pairing up and sparring. Mr. Jacob scowled and pointed to the test dummies in the corner. Tom sighed. Punishment for being late, you gotta do the Suicide Drill, a drill in which you repeatedly strike the dummy until you can no longer lift your arms. Tom took hours on this drill. He groaned and steadied himself. With a shout, he went forward. ------------ ((Welcome to Knockdown everyone. Glad to have you. First post should be you're heading to training. The first event will come shortly. Go to it.))