Monkatraz

OOC: Hey guys, I'm really sorry about the absence but I was in Louisiana and never had enough time to get this thing rolling. The posting order for this RP will go as follows: [size=1][color=darkorange]Myself as Rell Nerom/[/color][color=dimgray]Lefty[/color] Silent_Sword909 as Hoshi Sato [color=darkred]YawnBoy as Gray[/color] [COLOR=MediumTurquoise]Nefertimon as Chibu[/COLOR] [COLOR=DarkRed]Starwind as Argento Soma[/COLOR] [COLOR=Magenta]Neuvoxraiha as Arine Eiladeriel Kliclarien[/COLOR] (posting order was more or less randomly chosen so, don't take offense if your lower on the list). And if anyone goes longer than a week without posting the next person in qeue will take their place. _____________________________________ [color=darkgray]Lefty made a quick pace down the corridors of the High Elven ship. He disliked spending as much as he had for passage of himself and his six employees but in the end (assuming the job panned out) they would come out ahead enough to pay for decent enough room and board once they reached Moren. After that they'd likely be back to being broke until they finished their next job from Big Kaho in Moren, but that was the way Lefty liked it.... He saved nothing for later, to keep living in the moment was his plan. The more unpredictable his lifestyle was the harder he was to track, and the further away his enemies remained. He took a moment to ponder what Rell was doing. He had been with Lefty longer than anyone else in the Company (save for Gray), and despite his age Lefty thought of him as one of the most capable bounty hunters he'd ever met. Still, Lefty thought he was too brash and impatient and was worried he'd do something stupid (he had been quite jumpy ever since he picked up his new six-round 'toy'). [i]Forget it[/i] He thought, [i]You know you can trust the lad, worry about the newcomers instead.[/i] Finally, Lefty reached the room where his newest allies had been ordered to wait. His hand hesistated on the door knob, but then he opened the door to see them all, relaxing inside a large dining room. At first he saw a man, coverred in scars with one of his eyes apparantly damaged. He, at least, seemed fitting to be doing this kind of work. Next he noticed what he thought at first to be one of the lion-folk but soon realized it was something far different... Peculiar, but at least it looked powerful. The third of this group he saw, was just a child... either a sea-elf or a fylin, he couldn't quite tell. [i]Who the hell hired her?[/i] He thought, but chose not to judge her just yet, he'd seen smaller things do more damage before. Finally, he saw another man, obviously an Eastern warrior, his arm wrapped in plate. But a moment later he realized he recognized him, from a long time ago. [b]"Well now..."[/b] He said, at first faltering but then regaining his voice, [b]"You all should have heard of me so I'll waste no breath telling you my name.... But which one of you is going to be the first to introduce themselves"[/b][/size][/color]

[size=1][color=darkorange]All right, everyone here is accepted and I'll probably have the RP up in a couple of daysat the latest and sign ups will remain open throughout the duration of the RP. [/size][/color]

[size=1][COLOR=DarkSlateGray][b]Name:[/b] Colonel Wilhelm Raeder [b]Age:[/b] 57, turned in mid-20s [b]Species:[/b] Vampire of the Augustine Clan [b]Appearance:[/b] Well over six feet tall, muscular, with black hair that falls over his bright blue eyes (considered handsome by most). Most of his torso and arms are coverred in scars (from his violent turning), and he usually wears a heavy black trench coat over his S.O.L.F. uniform when not in particularly formal situations. [b]Personality:[/b] Usually outwardly friendly and charming, however, his pride and his arrogance are the stuff of legends. Raeder considers everyone not of the Augustine Clan to be inferior to himself and his Brethren (often regarding them with extreme hate). Despite his arrogance, he is completely loyal to his clan and would never hesitate to carry out an order from his superiors or sacrifice himself for one of his fellows (not to say that he is at all above sacrificing a lower ranking ally for the sake of the greater cause). Has a knack for staying cool under pressure or hardship, but when angered he can fly into a blind rage which renders him a powerful leader but with a powerful weakness. [b]Biography:[/b] Born in the late 21st century in Hamburg, Germany; Raeder lived a normal life until he was turned. He had been serving in the Heer (German Army) overseas for a year when his squad was attacked by a feral vampire, it killed all in his squad except him and he was left terribly scarred by a grenade that went off during the melee. After, waking up three days later in a medical tent, nearly dead from lack of blood, he quickly figured out what had happened to him and what he was. Out of instinct, driven by his nearly dead state he attacked a medic in the middle of the night, drank his blood and ran off into the night. At first, shamed by his murdering of a fellow, he decided to end his own life. However, after he began to undersand more of his abilities, instead of being disgraced by the monstrosity of it, he became enthralled with the power. Raeder began to believe that he was a chosen one, and superior to all the ingorant masses. For years he travelled the world, and eventually found his way into the Augustine Clan. Raeder has since become a rising force in the S.O.L.F., though not very powerful yet he has begun to become favored by many of the elders. He is now one of the most recognizeable members of the Augustine Clan and one of the most staunch advocaters of the use of deadly force against non-Augustines, and quickly raised through the infrastructure of the S.O.L.F., and came to lead one of their most elite combat divisions. [b]Extras:[/b] Though native of Germany, has spent many years in Britain and speaks English has a second language with only a slight accent. His years in the armed forces have made him a strong fighter, specializing in firearms but also highly proficient in explosives.[/size][/color] OOC: Really looking forward to this if I get in. More or less made this up as I went so it might be a little rough but please PM me if there's any problems or if just isnt up to scratch.

[size=1][color=darkorange] Outstanding sign up, Nefertimon. That's exactly the kind of creativity I'm looking for, so your definetly accepted into the RP.[/size][/color]

[SIZE=1][color=darkorange] Alright, If anyone has any questions, suggestions, or general feedback about the Bounty Company RP in the Inn right now, here's the place to ask. I hope to hear from you soon.[/SIZE][/color]

[size=1][color=darkorange]Rell Nerom stood, quite impressed by the pure white structure around him. He was young, probably in his mid twenties by his own estimates, standing on a vessel he had never before seen the likes of. Rell's left hand was scratching his head as he surveyed his surrounding while his right rested on his belt, from which hung a newly cleaned and polished revolver. He himself was of average height, with short dark hair and gleaming blue eyes. He wore a dark blue silken shirt and the style of black pants that had been popular with the aristocracy as of late. Normally he would never be able to afford such stylish apparel but they had already been paid half for what was sure to become the biggest job they had ever pulled, and maybe the last they'd ever need to. [b]"Now [i]this[/i] is what I call a ship."[/b] Rell announced proudly to his two companions, an aging man with streaks of grey in his hair and a sword at his side and a tall and proud Wolf-kin with piercing amber eyes and a string of tradition tribal beads running down from his left ear. [b] "Look at this,"[/b] Rell continued (knocking on te wall of the ship),[b] "This is pure marble! How the hell do you think the pointy-ears got this to float?"[/b] [b]"Magic."[/b] the Wolf-kin grunted. [b]"Well, obviously. I mean this is an elven ship, after all."[/b] Rell said, now to his wolfen companion. [b]"See, Gray, look out at the horizon. You see that line where the ocean gets blurry? Magic bubble, keeps the ship safe from the weather. Ha! You remember that time on the coast runner when the shift rocked so much we had to tie Shift down so he wouldn't drown in his sleep? These elves won't have any of that. How do you like that bit of elven ingenuity, buddy?" "I don't."[/b] Gray replied firmly. [b]"It's.... unsettling." "Really? I thought you'd been around a lot of magic back in the day." "Yes, but not like this... It's not harmonious, more like dwarven technology than our shamans' chants." "You can tell the difference? For the most part I can never even sense it, I mean if it's very dense I can (right now I can practically smell it all over this ship) but for the most part-" "Hey, kid." "Yeah, Lefty?" "Shut up."[/b] the older man replied, the silver streaks in his hair flashing as he turned his head to face Rell. [b]"This isn't look at the pretty ship time, remember we've got a job to do here before we get to Moren." "Right, the dwarf with the bank prints. Me and Gray will go take care of him right now-" "Not now, Rell."[/b] Lefty said, his left arm resting on the hilt of his sword while his right was held up in a sling inside his coat, injured beyond the ability to use it a long time ago. [b]"Remember, we're two days from port. You kill him now, what are we gonna do with the body? I didn't notice any signs on the ship that said 'dead dwarf storage'. These are high class citizens, they're not accustomed to caring for dead bodies on their vacation cruise. Just find him and keep an eye on him for now." "Sure thing, boss."[/b] Rell said, walking off into the maze of corridors in the interior of the ship. [b]"Gray, follow him and make sure he doesn't do anything stupid." "Of course, brother." "All right, I'm gonna go see to our 'friends' back in the cabin... and keep vigilante, I'm a little weary as to why the Big Guy in Moren was so reluctant to tell us more about the job until we get there."[/b] _________________________________________________________ All right, this RP is one that follows a group of adventurers/bounty hunters/vagrants/mercenaries/freelances/magicians/etc. led by a former soldier called 'Lefty' (the players, and the three introduced above) as they take on the job of a lifetime. You may or may not be part of their group already, could be a separate person contracted for the same job as them or a normal person who gets cought up in the middle (or maybe a normal person with them because they've got nowhere to go), as always get creative. It takes place in a more or less typical tolkien-derived fantasy type universe, but with a certain western twist to it. It takes place in the aftermath of an enormous war (which some of the characters fought in) between two human faction of the largest kingdom, resulting in the defeat of the rebel faction and years later the disolving of the empire into many smaller kingdoms). I'm looking for 3-5 characters, but I'll accept more if there are that many good applications. Here's what I want on the character sign up sheet: [b]Name:[/b] Self explanatory [b]Age:[/b] Not too many 15, 16 year old master warriors, please! (I'll accept characters that young but be reasonable as to their abilities) [b]Gender:[/b] [b]Race:[/b] All the traditional fantasy races (humans, elves, orcs, etc.) as well as anthropomorphic races too (though not just human but with ears and tails of an animal, they should be like 60/40 animal/human) I'll PM you if I'm not satisfied with the race. [b]Appearance:[/b] No need to be overly detailed, just enough to paint a picture. [b]Bio:[/b] One good paragraph is enough, but I'd prefer two. Lead up to how they end up on the ship, going to do the same job as Lefty and Co. (or they could be already part of their group). Not everyone has to be a warrior or a master thief, they could just be a normal person who gets thrown in with the Bounty Company. [b]Speciality:[/b] What the character is good at and what their job would likely be (stealth, fighting, magic, charisma, luck, get creative). You would also put your character's weapon style here, if applicable (traditional medieval or feudal japanese weapons, some firearms but the technology is only up muskets and cruide revolvers, but if you want to get creative on the weapons, go for it). Or your character may not even have a speciality, if you went with the normal person type. And as always, be realistic, your characters should certainly be above average individuals, but no people so strong they can wipe out entire armies or anything. [b]Personality:[/b] As many details as possible. You may want to include how they get along with the other characters, if your character's biography allows you to be familiar with them. You may also want to work out how you and other player's characters get along before hand too. OR you can forego this character sheet and write a 3 or 4 paragraph sample story focusing on your character. This RP will be done with a set order of posting (everyone will have a designated turn to post) with a two paragraph minimum for every post. The main reason for this is because I've seen RPs get bogged down in two sentence posts that go on for pages and pages with absolutely no story or character development, and the only real problems with this style is that it can really slow down if one of the players goes awol and conversations between PCs can be difficult so if there's going to be a convo between yours and another player's character (which I direly hope there will be) I suggest getting together in an IM or PM session to work out what gets said in the conversation and then one of you post the whole thing. Any questions or feedback is extremely welcome, just PM me or if I get around to making an underground page go there. I hope to see your sign ups. (I'll post the character sheet for Rell once I have a few sign ups, and YawnBoy will be playing Gray, as we worked out a good bit of the plot together in real life)[/size][/color]

OOC: Since the Hunters are so drastically outnumbered I added a character who could be sort of a represent the rest of the Hunters. [size=1][color=blue]Julien de Saint-Marc stumbled into his penthouse apartment, high above the streets of night-time Paris after a night of drinking. He had no obligations for the rest of the week and he very mutch liked it that way; after his exhausting series of jobs for the Hunters, Julien was intent on getting at least a week of R&R. Julien had been born and raised in the city of Paris and had come to have a certain love of the City of Lights. He spent most of his free time wandering the streets and partaking in the many activities the city offered and romancing the different women who travelled there. He loved the leisure, and the lack of responsibility (and of course, his ability to offord it) but joined the Hunters claiming he wanted to uphold his family's tradition (they were one of the oldest families in the Hunters, being among the original founders). Despite his training in fencing and unarmed combat, he felt safer with a Glock at his side though he had yet no need and in times of leisure like he had now he didn't even bother to carry it. Julien finished his glass and decided to hit the sack for the day when he became acutely aware of the door to his apartment opening and someone stepping inside. He sighed heavily when he heard a familiar voice. [b]"Staying sharp I trust, Julien?"[/b] Said the man who had entered, an elder member of the Hunters and former friend of Julien's father. He was older and grizzled, though he still seemed physically fit. Among the elders Julien was held with a degree of disrespect, but Claude seemed to almost tolerate him. [b]"Damn, Claude. What do you want?" "Nice to see you too." "You know this is my time off... Just looking at your sorry ass is making me sober." "As a member of the Hunters it is your job to be ready to be called into action at any time. You are needed." "Get someone else." "The beast has returned. You of all people should know about that." "But I'm not working this week." "If you feel happier outside of our organization-" "Fine, I'll do it, just don't give me any of that shit." "Nothing too painful yet, just a meeting." "Oh, good, I get to spend time with some of the elders. You know how much I love hanging out with them." "Your sarcasm is noted, Julien. We're leaving immediately, though you may want to grab a mug of coffee... You wreak of booze."[/b][/size][/color]

[size=1][color=blue][b]Name[/b] Julien de Saint-Marc [b]Age:[/b] 27 [b]Nationality:[/b] French [b]Faction:[/b] Hunter [b]Weapons/Items:[/b] Usually carries his cell phone and Glock-21 (with one or two extra clips) as well as much money as he believes he'll need. [b]Appearance:[/b] Julien is usually seen wearing some stylish and no-doubt expensive outfit that fittingly gives him the appearance of a rich metropolitan. His hair is usually well-kempt and stylized. Also, he likes to wear a pair of dark sunglasses that he insists adds to his 'mystique'. His skin is light toned and his short height is something that he considers his worst feature. [b]Personality:[/b] If one were to ask one of the older members of the Hunters they would likely say [b]"He is a trivial, hedonistic, dishonest, and disrespectful person and shames his father's name by sharing it with him."[/b] While the senior Hunters do generally share that view of him he is generally well liked by the younger ones though still considered trivial. However, Julien often acts contrary to his persona of a spoiled rich kid, showing deep compassion and strong will, though he exhibits such traits so rarely only few of his closest allies know of them at all which may be why the different age groups within the Hunters have such a difference of respect for him. Though for all the differences in their views, Julien is certainly easy-going, good-natured and rebellious. [b]Biography:[/b] Julien de Saint-Marc was born into one of the oldest (and wealthiest) families of Hunters in the world. All other members of his family were already respected Hunters at the time of his birth, especially his father. As he grew up he was taught how to defend himself well, through the arts of fencing and unarmed combat; and became a masterful martial artist. Through his teens he was taught about the wolves by his father and became expected to join the Hunters, which he had planned to do. When he was 17 his father was killed by a member of the Society of the Blood. During the time of mourning for his father none of his family or friends as much as saw Julien and when he did reappear he ignored the existence of the Hunters or the Brotherhood for years. It was then that the senior Hunter's view of him as a spoiled, hedonistic and apathetic cretan galvanized and they ignored his actions for the years until he came back to the Hunters. To the surprise of all he came to join the Hunters, and while the elders were highly skeptical they allowed him to join. At this time he had rid himself of his fencing rapier claiming that dances were of no use in an actual battle and instead carried with him a pistol (though he remains a master martial artist). As he lived his career as a Hunter, the elders continued to dislike him even though he had proven a strong member because he acted as if he cared nothing about the Hunters in general and had no true reason to join. Nonetheless, he gained many younger allies in the Hunters who respected his fighting skill and enjoyed his company.[/color][/size] OOC: Lemme know if there are any problems.

This is actually the opening chapter of something I wrote a while ago and decided to post... __________________________________ Chapter 0 6/14/76, 11:13 UNM Standard Time The Ivory Coast, West of Porto Novo Private First Class Michael Burner unscrewed the lid of the bottle in his hand and took a deep draught of salty-tasting water. He drank until he thought it was half empty and screwed the lid back on, thinking of the dehydrated spirits in his back pocket. He decided to save them for after the battle: his victory drink. As he screwed the lid back on, he noticed one of the conscripts staring thirstily at his bottle but then looked quickly away when Burner looked back at him. He never could stand the conscripts; they were always so god damn quiet. Must have known they had no chance. Burner looked around at the rest of the African trench he was standing in. The trenches were huge, wide enough for two rows of Mustang jeeps or even an Elephant tank and still have enough room for a few columns of infantry to march alongside. It was dug there by machinery that the UNM had brought over ?just in case? both the Sahara and the Congo regions were conquered by the enemies, forever lead by Rahze: the rebel, the god, the crusader and the conqueror. Burner had been there, in the Sahara, with his partner Watkins and had experienced the fighting for himself. He had seen the barbarism, the hate, and the utmost fanaticism with which Rahze?s soldiers had fought and murdered his fellow soldiers as well as the anger the survivors used to avenge them. Burner had been given an anti-tank weapon and with Watkins, his loader, had personally seen to the destruction of four of Rahze?s tanks, but now they had been pushed back to the Slave & Ivory Coast were they would hold the line until Fleet Admiral Diaz?s fleet would reinforce their position. Diaz even promised to bring the means to take back all of Central Africa and allow for some of the soldiers who fought well to be replaced and given some time for R & R. Burner couldn?t wait for the fleet to come so he could get some time away from the war, his entire life had been in the shadow of the war and he had been fighting for four straight years. Burner was tired of war; he wanted to rest and take some time to wash the blood of his hands. Diaz?s fleet wouldn?t come in time to get him out before the coming battle but it didn?t matter. Burner had fought through four years worth of hard fighting and he would just have to stick through one more battle. He focused his hearing for a second and realized that he could hear in the distance the grinding of tank treads. Burner looked at Watkins who was asleep against the trench wall, then lent over and touched his shoulder to wake him up and said ?They?re coming?. Watkins immediately jumped up and retrieved their bazooka from the far wall of the trench and handed it to Burner, who stood up at shoulder level with the trench wall and shouldered the weapon. Once more, he thought to himself, with feeling. Ten Hours Later Fort ALEXANDER, Sydney Captain John Harrison vaulted down the underground corridors of Fort ALEXANDER, took a corner to fast and fell, hard. He rolled over, got up, and continued with little loss of momentum, dropping his black beret in the process. He didn?t pause to think about it though, as long as he had the folder in his right hand he wasn?t going to stop for anything. Capt. Harrison turned another corner, this time a little slower, and continued his sprint through the hallways of the fortress. He looked ahead a little bit and saw a familiar sight: a black-haired colonel followed closely by three lieutenants. The colonel spotted Harrison running down the hallway and began to speak, ?Harrison, I?ve been?? But the captain didn?t have time to talk; he leaned his shoulder in and knocked the colonel out of his way and onto the floor. Normally even Harrison recognized that dashing down a hallway of a top military installation and knocking an officer three ranks above you on his ass was not acceptable behavior, but he felt the circumstances justified it. He reached the end of the hallway and slammed into the far wall of an open elevator; he spent a second recovering from the high speed impact and then began pounding on the button panel which automatically scanned his fingerprint. The door slid shut and Harrison put his hand on his knees and attempted to catch his breath while an aloof female voice came through the elevators speakers, ?Please state your name.? Still panting he answered ?Captain? John? Harrison? Then the voice came again ?Where is your business?? Harrison could never stand being questioned by the damn computer whenever he went to the deeper levels of the fortress but decided this wasn?t the time to complain, ?The Office of Field Marshal Kenneth Shepard?. ?What is the purpose of your business in the office of Field Marshal Kenneth Shepard?? ?JUST OPEN THE GODDAMN DOOR!? Captain, your pulse is above average. Is something wrong?? ?HURRY THE HELL UP!? The door of the elevator slid open and Capt. Harrison ran through while it was still only half open, ignoring the pair of MPs that had their rifles aimed at the elevator as the doors opened. No doubt the security program alerted them to screen him carefully and had they not recognized him they likely would have filled him full of wholes before he made it three steps past them. He dashed down the corridor to the door he knew to lead to Field Marshal Shepard?s office, and managed to open the door and get through without slowing. Harrison ran right to Shepard?s desk, where the Field Marshal sat and raised his head when the captain entered and said in a slightly surprised voice, ?Harrison?? The captain didn?t attempt to stop until he was less than a yard away from the desk; he nearly lost his balance and had to resort to windmilling his arms to keep standing. As soon as he was no longer in threat of toppling over, he threw the files he held on top of the desk and once again attempted to catch his breath. The Field Marshal picked up the folder slowly, wondering what was so important that Captain Harrison had dashed past security to tell him, he looked at the folder for a second and then let if fall from his hands and hit the desk. ?What is this, Captain?? ?Fleet Admiral Diaz?s fleet? was attacked by an enemy armada, they couldn?t reinforce the coast.? Harrison replied, panting. ?Then what happened?? Shepard asked, now sounding genuinely worried. ?No contact with Diaz since the first reports of engagement, sir? ?What about the-? Suddenly, the door to the office burst open again and Harrison, recognizing who just entered, backed against the wall to the side and stood perfectly upright and saluted. A second Field Marshal had just entered the room: Field Marshal Yoshi Oshikawa. Field Marshal Shepard stood and saluted, as did Oshikawa. The Field Marshals then cut off their salutes and Oshikawa began talking rather loudly. ?Do you know what just happened?? Oshikawa asked sounding angry. ?Captain Harrison here has just brought me a report that I was in the process of reading? Shepard said gesturing toward the wall where Harrison stood. ?Well do you know how it happened? Do you know how Fleet Admiral Diaz?s fleet was so quickly slaughtered? Do you know how our entire contingent in Africa was just destroyed?? Oshikawa demanded. ?Calm down, Field Marshal. We don?t know that the fleet was destroyed, their communications may have been disabled? Shepard said calmly. ?You are far too optimistic, Shepard. All of those soldiers are dead.? Oshikawa, now sounding calmer, replied. ?Every last one of our soldiers in Africa is dead.? Shepard nodded his head, and said quietly, ?What about the men of Zeta Corps? They were in Africa, were they not?? Oshikawa didn?t reply, it seemed he didn?t know. Shepard turned his head and said ?Captain, was there anything in the report of them?? ?Sir, we have no reason to that the Zeta Corps suffered any losses. They seem to be half as good at staying alive as they are at killing.? Harrison replied, with a trace of venom in his voice. Harrison hated reporting casualties; it made him think of his brother who he had been told was killed in Europe. Shepard often asked him about his older brother, something Harrison always wondered about. Why was the Field Marshal so interested in a dead soldier? Though Harrison was clueless, the reason was because Shepard knew he was not actually dead. Though he was fighting for his life. ____________________________ If anyone has any comments/criticism/feedback/etc. I'd be happy to hear. Also it might be worth noting that this is just an intro and the bulk of the story is told from three different groups of characters with intertwining plot lines as well as delving into how the political situation, how the war began, and the psychological condition of Rahze. The story follows the marines and command crew of a submersible cruiser named the [i]Argo[/i] as they fight the war from South America to Asia, a group of officers initially stationed at the underground super-fortress Fort HANNIBAL in Sydney as they lead soldiers and discover the sinister working and spy games played by Intelligence, and the group of super soldiers Zeta Corps that experience the heaviest fighting special operations of the war occasionally against the Templar Unit, that consists of some of the most powerful combatants in the world lead. The Zeta Corps story is split between the development of the fighters as well as the past of their leader.

OOC: Sorry for the length but I'm somewhat pressed for time at the moment. [size=1][color=darkred][b]"So, Tesla. Why did [i]you[/i] join the Brotherhood? I heard you used to be in Prof. X's school."[/b] Jake stood amongst several other of the mutants, who were in Genosha under the command of Magneto. Some of them had gathered into a circle and were chatting idly for a while, with Jake, or Tesla as he had become known as, nearby but keeping to himself. He had been listening quietly until one of them, Pyro, decided to draw him into the conversation. [b]"I just though I could better myself, I guess."[/b] Jake replied, as he wondered whether or not what he said was even true. [b]"That's a pretty lame answer, you know. But, whatever."[/b] The rest of them continued on in their conversation while Jake's mind wondered off. He couldn't decide on one good reason he had for joining Magneto's Brotherhood, which he found disturbing. He remembered being adamant once about leaving the school and he had done so, but now the reason why seemed so foolish. Jake stopped thinking about it: it was only going to put himself in a bad mood, he thought. He figured it would be best to just enjoy his time there on that scenic little island. Then he decided to join in on the conversation, some of them didn't seem bright but others appeared to be quite intelligent. [b]"So, what do you guys think of Genosha so far?"[/b] Tesla said, wishing he could have though of something better to say to the group of mutants around him.[/size][/color]

OOC: Btw, I made some changes to my character profile in the inn, basically his rules of nonviolence are less moral and more logical in nature. [Size=1][color=darkred][b]"Sir, we believe the Kutisoks will be here within only a few hours. The remnants of Lord Pelos's forces are already here to help us in the defence of the hill."[/b] Rellin, Olan's second-in-command, said as Olan began to head up the hill he had selected as their defensive position. [b]"Tell Lord Pelos that given the reduced number of his men and the death of all of his officers that it may be wise for him to report to the capital and leave his men under my command. So few men hardly merit to have their own general, though they probably are some of the most veteran soldiers here."[/b] Olan said as he passed columns of troops, with his cutlass dangling from his side. He was walking up a large hill that rose from the plains, it was far from an ideal position since it would be easy to surround and attack on all sides but it was blocking any way further into their homeland, it gave them a commanding view of the surrounding countryside and Olan thought that it would be good to show of their forces and hopefully scare off the Kutisoks. [b]"You migh offend him, Olan. He won't take kindly to being asked to run." "Don't ask him to run, then. Ask him to do us a favor by reporting for us."[/b] Rellin didn't always think that Olan was straightforward enough to be considered an honorable member of the Emerald Fist but he knew that under his command he didn't have to worry about being cut down in some heroic last stand. Olan reached the top of the hill and could see the expanse of land around him in all sides. It was time, he decided, to set up the defenses more fully. [b]"Rellin, the infantry are to form in a square around the base in the hill, with Pelos's knights at the corners and any cavalry we have further up ready to assist if the enemy breaks through. Then set the archers and anyone else with ranged weapons at the very top with our flags waving high. Also I want the rest of the scouts forming out around us to keep us alert to where the Kutisok are coming from." "Alright, I'll form up the men in the infantry square."[/b] Rellin began to march off to give out the orders but stopped. [b]"Olan, I have a question." "What is it?" "Well, weren't our orders supposed to be leading the attack on the Black Falcon?" "I passed those orders up. Didn't fit my style so I suggested someone else to lead it." "Who? The sylph?" "I can't be sure who they sent, Rellin, but right now it doesn't matter." "Of course, Olan. I'll get to work."[/b] Olan looked over the horizon at where he thought the Kutisok would be coming and thought to himself [i]They'd have to be stupid to attack here, but the Kutisok do things that are a lot more than stupid... the fools.[/i][/size][/color]

[color=darkred][SIZE=1][B]Name:[/b] Kerec [b]Age:[/b] 29 [b]Gender:[/b] Male [b]Race:[/b] Miraluka. Appears almost completely human except for they have no eyes and use the force to see. [b]Physical Description:[/b] Kerec is mostly average looking, he stands at average height, with dark, shaggy hair and usually dressed in a black and white outfit. Wears a black band to cover his eyes (or rather, lack of). [b]Character Background:[/b] Lived as an orphan until he was a teenager in which he worked on shipping rigs to earn money and later became a smuggler. Works as part of a criminal syndicate, and is rather high up. He began working as a smuggler at a young age and has since become one of the rising stars of his organization. Like most of his race he is naturally in tune with the force, though he knows little about it and cannot willingly manipulate it. [b]Personality Profile:[/b] Is very calm and collected, usually talking his way out of any dangerous situation. He dislikes it when any situation degrades into violence and has become skilled at manipulating others to attain what he desires. Some of his peers call him lazy, weak, or cowardly because of his relunctance to enter a fight but they forget both that he was once the top smuggler in his system and that he is a talented shot. He is also somewhat deeper than he is usually given credit for, though he does not understand how it is that he can see with the force. [b]Profession:[/b] Works in an organized crime syndicate, tje jobs he goes on are versatile but mainly have him as either a diplomat between syndicates or as a smuggler. [b]Specialist Skill:[/b] Speaks a vast amount of different languages and is a talented pilot as well as a noteable talent for talking his way out of danger. [b]Preferred Weapon:[/b] Keeps with him at all times a light blaster with a hair trigger but he prefers not to use it. [/SIZE][/color] OOC: Let me know if there are any problems regarding my character (mainly my choice to be a miraluka, but I figured hey Jerec was one so they must have survived).

I was just wondering if any one had any advice for my character. I thought it'd be interesting to make someone other than my usual silver-tongued-devil type that I mostly use. So basically does anyone see anything they think I should alter or any general feedback of him.?

[size=1][COLOR=Green][B]Name:[/B] Olan [B]Race:[/B] Half-Elven, Half-Human. He retains mainly human traits but also possesses elvish finesse and subtlety. [B]Age:[/B] 29 [B]Gender:[/B] Male [B]Faction:[/B] Emerald Fist [B]Personality:[/B] Olan is known, for better or for worse, for his calmness, his romanticism, and his tendency to talk rather than act, which leads many's perception of him to believe he is weak or cowardly, though that is far from the truth. Deep down, he strongly dislikes killing and even though he is known to be a duelist few have notice that never once has he killed an oponent. While his peers seem to focus on fighting the war, Olan's goals are moreover to end it with as little death as possible, especially from his own soldiers. [B]Weapons and Abilities:[/B] Olan is a master of dueling with his cutlass and dagger. When he fights he does so with swift and accurate strikes that he uses to incapicitate his opponents in little time. [B]Bio:[/b] Olan was born into the Emerald Fist as a illegitimate son to a minor aristocratic family, which marked him throughout his entire life and because of which he was often treated with disrespect or worse (in his mind) pity. As he grew up, he lived on the outskirts of the Emerald Fist's kingdom, and more than once the war with the Black Falcon clan touched his home. One day the Black Falcon attacked and burned his home town, believing there to be a large garrison of troops (which there were not). Olan survived the battle, though nearly everyone else in the town had not, including his family. Even though they were the ones that mocked and disrespected him, Olan could not help but pity them as they lay slain. That pity affected Olan so strongly that it was then that he began to hate death. He saw how weak and pathetic the slain were, and he pitied them so much that he decided that only the worst of villains truly deserved death and that even though they had killed their opponents, they were no closer to accomplishing their goals. While he knew that going as far to say that violence never solves anything would be false, he also knew that killing those who serve was not going to bring war any closer to an end. After leaving the burnt town, he was sent to live with distant relations away in the capital. There he lived much more richly and was even somewhat envied for being Half-Elven, rather than being hated and pitied for being a bastard. The part of his family he lived with now were all known for their prowess for commanding soldiers and he was expected to lead troops once he was old enough. That is when he decided to study the artistic way of fighting known as fencing. He deducted that a style that emphasized accuracy would be suitable for disabling (and not killing) foes, if he were ever forced into a battle. Later he enterred service of the Emerald Fist's forces, with the intention of increasing his stature and protecting the warriors. Although he is both a competent leader and masterful warrior his tactics lead him to be regarded as a coward by others amongst the Emerald Fist. Few recognize his skill because he uses it to stop or prevent battles rather than win them. More often than not he has forced his enemies into a retreat or standstill using only skillful maneuvering. [/color] [/SIZE] OOC: If there are any problems let me know.

While your on the subject, has anyone been watching Eureka 7? They pronounce it like Elreka and it is bugging the crap out of me. Seriously, whats how did they get an 'l' out of a 'u'?