Lazarus

[b]Name:[/b] Lathian Kamigawa [b]Age:[/b] 13 [b]Gender:[/b] Male [b]Physical Description:[/b] [url=http://i107.photobucket.com/albums/m313/DrkLazarus/yuberscary.jpg]Lathian[/url] (It's just a mug-shot. If you recognize the character, you shouldn't have much trouble picturing a physically younger version, but all the art I have is of course, is of the character as a fully grown adult.) [b]Weapons:[/b] [url=http://i107.photobucket.com/albums/m313/DrkLazarus/Frostmourne.jpg]Frostmourne[/url] The weapon is a large two-handed sword, forged generations ago for members of the Kamigwa clan by their demonic patron, the Shichibi. As Lathian is much too small and lacking sufficient mass to properly wield the sword at the moment, the weapon remains under guard at his family home. The sword is used to regulate and control the chakra of the Kamigawa prodigy, as it is mixed with demonic youki. Lathian wears an amulet and a sealing sigil on his breastbone which links him to the weapon despite distance, allowing it to filter chakra, although the process takes time. The blade bleeds a supernatural cold when the unique chakra of the Kamigawa clan is channeled into it, purifying the blazing youki of the Shichibi. [b]Fighting Style:[/b] Lathian focuses on his use of ninjitsu, although his kenjutsu is also important as he will one day take up his family's heirloom sword and he intends to know how to use it effectively. [b]Family History:[/b] The Kamigawa have a long history. Their family line is traceable all the way back to the Ainu, the ancient peoples of Japan. At some point, the family forged a pact with the Shichibi, the seven-tailed beast, a phoenix. Over time the bond grew as the Kamigawa stayed faithful and worshiped the Bijuu. The Kamigawa began to exibit symptoms of over-exposure to youki, and the entire line nearly died off before the techniques were developed to filter the demonic influence from their systems. The Shichibi had the Frostmourne made, it's purpose threefold. The weapon was to protect the Kamigawa heirs, to filter their energies clean of the harmful youki, and to serve as a conduit between the Shichibi and it's chosen people. The Kamigawa were an unknown clan when Konohagakure was founded, and they remained so for quite a while, content to handle their affairs in the background. The weapon gifted to them kept their connection with the Shichibi alive regardless of distance. In time, the Kamigawa began a ritual of honoring the Shicibi with a small offering of the newest heir's blood. The ritual strengthened the connection between demon and man, and the Kamigawa found that they could wield their youki tainted chakra to an extent without requiring filtering. The youki can only be used for a handful of techniques native to the Kamigawa clan. Attempts by clans and individuals alike to copy or learn these techniques legitimately have failed due to the unique nature of the blend of human chakra and demonic youki. Still, this tainted chakra cannot be used for normal ninja techniques. The domain of the Shichibi is light and heat, and the Kamigawa clan techniques all focus around those. The Kamigawa do learn other technique types, although they have shown a natural affinity for Katon type jutsu which rivals the Uchiha of old. [b]Jutsu/Techniques:[/b] [b]Sanryoukyou[/b] ? [i]Prism[/i] ? Allows Lathian free manipulation of light in the air near him, slowing it down, shifting its spectrum, making it solid, etc. The ability is a gift from the Shichibi and consumes little chakra. Advanced Kamigawa clan members can use the skill freely and without handseals, much like all ninja learn to do with simple genin techniques. As experience in the skill grows, the speed at which light can be manipulated grows, and light constructs become more sturdy. [b]Katon: Soudai Appakusei[/b] ? [i]Grand Compression[/i] ? Lathian flash compresses the oxygen molecules in an area, causing them to combust in a conflagration of flame. Without some attention, the flame is there and gone in an instant, enough to scorch and wound deeply, but without sustained heat required to ignite anything. With attention, the flame can be sustained provided there are combustible materials such as hair and cloth. The technique consumes a moderate amount of chakra. [b]Biography:[/b] Following the defeat of the Akatsuki, the captive Bijuu were quietly dealt with. The Kamigawa clan managed to rescue their patron spirit from it's ignoble fate by granting it refuge within their clan compound. The Shichibi sought to strengthen it's connection to the Kamigawa family on the anniversary of the date that their pact was originally forged, as well as escape any possible further capture by bonding with a child. Lathian was born on that day, and his young soul was bound to the Shichibi for all eternity. This does not make him a Jinchūriki, as the joining was not forced upon the demon, and it remains free. The Shichibi can freely manifest within Lathian's mind and body, or bring itself to him and vice-versa instantly. This is accomplished because Lathian shares a piece of the Shichibi's essence, and the Shichibi holds a portion of his soul. This partnership presents Lathian with untold potential, provided he can master the unique chakra and techniques of his clan, and come to wield Frostmourne. The child truly is the scion of the Kamihawa clan, but despite this he is not vain or conceited, preferring to treat others fairly and honestly even though his own clan is often quietly derided for it's open secret of demonic association. The child is not as ostracized as Uzumaki Naruto had been, but people still look down upon him. The encouragement the Shichibi gives on occasion allows Lathian to ignore the negative behavior and maintain a positive outlook. The Kamigawa scion is centered on his clan, looking up to the clan Elders and is focused on obtaining their praise and acceptance. As a child he doesn't yet understand that he has it, although he is an unknown quantity and his clansmen fear offending the Shichibi through him. This leads to his clan keeping something of a respectful distance from him, excluding his immediate family. ((Done. Not still sure I'm happy with all of it, although I think the balance as far as strengths and drawbacks is perfect. Feedback would be nice.))

Pretty good. I agree with the idea about endnotes, but perhaps use footnotes instead. Endnotes (as implied) take residence at the end of a story. Using footnotes which appear at the bottom of a page is usually a much better idea, as a reader then won't forget to check about facts that might be interesting, and should they forget the context of the information, all they have to do is look upwards a bit. I do see some character similarities. I just think it's kinda cheap that they're so much like their counterparts in Naruto. Maybe they just don't have enough depth yet, but it seemed shallow, like the other characters were just there to give your character Shinji more focus. He's already special in that he uses this iconic yet esoteric style of combat. Next he'll have flawless chi control and limitless chi reserves. Naruto made the same mistake with Sakura, making her a weak, pointless character before the timeskip, while all the focus was on Naruto and Sasuke. Be more concrete with your world details. Don't explain things as they come up, instead, do a fly-by setting introduction where you use and introduce everything by virtue of the fly-on-the-wall POV before stepping into the Marajin's role.

I think it's the three months to the exams. We need some kind of thing to do as a large group, then do a timeskip to the finals/exams. You know, kinda like how in TV the stars of a show will go through all this stuff up to a certain point, and really, that was more important than the noteworthy event. Get what I'm saying?

Lazarus tossed his deck of cards up into the air. They scattered into the gloom of the room. Lazarus smirked at the Alex double. The real Alex had issues, things that Lazarus would've hesitated to attack during any actual conflict, but this pale immitation had no such issues. Most importantly, it was [i]not[/i] his friend. Lazarus smirked, hands disappearing into his pockets. "No hands." Lazarus mentioned off-handedly, chuckling mentally at his own joke. The doppleganger smirked, mimiced blade raised and ready, and rushed in, ducking low and slicing high, rising into the attack and dragging his blade across Lazarus's chest. The mage calmly stepped back, spinning to his right and kicking the sword out of the way with his boot smashing against it's flat. His spin completed, Lazarus brought his forehead down hard into the doppelganger's face, the thing's nose making a delightful crunching sound as it staggered back. "First blood, trash." Lazarus snarled as the doppelganger clutched it's nose with it's free hand. It's sword was in it's other hand, and it changed it's grip, rushing in again with a backhanded slice. Lazarus danced backwards nimbly, catching the foot that followed the feint with his knee, then firing off his own kick, the block having chambered his foot already. His boot smashed into the nose of the copy, pulverizing the already cracked cartilage and bone. The attacking foot stamped down, and the opposite knee rose, blasting the air from the lungs of the copy as it slammed into it's solar plexus. The Alex copy knelt, struggling to keep from retching up it's stomach contents and hold his entire breastbone in place. Lazarus stood over the copy, smirking grimly. "You lose." The doppelganger's world went dark, and Lazarus calmly scuffed the brain matter off of his boot after extracting the shoe from the shattered remains of the copy's skull. A twitch of his fingers had his scattered cards assembling themselves in front of him, and he pocketed them once more. He looked to Alex. "Shall we continue?"

Lazarus stood watching Alex struggle against the increased gravity. It really wasn't fair that the boy had gotten that effect when he was so dramatically unprepared for it. Had he landed appropriatley, he could have easily locked his joints and continued onwards off the tile, albeit slowly. But he'd been caught flat-footed, and was rendered helpless. Lazarus contemplated helping, but wasn't without his own distractions. The floor surface of his own tile was slick and slipperly, reducing friction to nearly nothing. One false move would send him sliding right off the edge. And the bandit behind him didn't seem to be bothered with that in the slightest as he cocked back his arm and swung a shamshir at Lazarus, cutting sideways and down low,knowing such a strike would force the mage to dodge and fall, or take the blow. Lazarus didn't leap upwards so much as smply tuck his legs up tight underneath him, giving the blade ample room to sweep underneath him. As it passed harmlessly, it was met by a pair of booted feet that forced it downwards, and made the wielder let go of the blade. It clattered to the floor, sliding slowly towards the edge. The stomp threw the bandit off-balance, and Lazarus snapped a foot out, slamming the ball of his booted foot into the bandit's jutting chin, driving his head back and transferring a few metric tons of force into his neck. At the same time, the mage's free right hand glowed with a deep red light, and the bandit's right arm split in several places, bled profusely, then shriveled up, the spell drawing the blood in his extremity out of his flesh through ghastly wounds. The bandit staggered back, his adam's apple straining and writhing like a creature alive as the muscles in his neck fought to absorb the force of the snapkick. A vertebrae cracked under the stress... A second followed. The first was pulverized, pinching down on the delecate blood vessels and nerves in the spinal column. The bandit's body slid lifelessly off the back edge of the tile, and the sword toppled soundlessly off the edge to the left. Lazarus was out of time, and he allowed his heels to touch down, and the lack of friction carried him over the side of the tile. Immediatley, the increased gravity of the adjacent tile pulled him downwards like a stone. It also pulled the card from between the fingers of his left hand. Lazarus would have hit the tile before the card did, certainly breaking his legs, but he'd given the card a little boost, a slight flick of the wrist. The increased gravity drove the card into the stone tile, causing it to quiver madly for a moment. Centimeters from Alex's nose. Alex crossed his eyes to make out the card, and felt the gravity around him lighten. Lazarus landed, bending down into a deep crouch to help absorb the force of the landing, then rose and turned to Alex. "Better move, Alex. It'll change anytime now." Was all Lazarus said before springing down towards another tile, one set down low among others. Alex scrambled up, retrieving his sword, and leapt for the tile Lazarus had vacated, using the greased surface to slide quickly across, and the momentum to propel him cleanly over the surface of two tiles before landing on a lower third one. Still, the image that was on that card flashed through Alex's mind. Sloth, in Negativa, with the Fool in relief. Lazarus landed on the tile next to his, breaking his concentration abrubtly. Lazarus fell into a ready stance, fanning a deck of cards easily in his right hand. "Something comes." Lazarus warned. Alex had sensed the disturbance as well, and both boys stood at the far edge of their tiles, facing one another with their weapons drawn. An indistinct shape blurred into being, solidifying into two seperate forms, one on Lazarus's tile, another on Alex's. More disturbing was their make-up. A featureless black rubbery looking substance compromised their bodies. Doppelgangers. The one facing Lazarus rippled and flowed, becoming an obsidian replica of Alex. It's featureless eyes twinkled with mirth as it hefted it's new weapon and advanced. Alex found himself facing a similar copy, this one of Lazarus. It's eyes promised death, and it fanned a deck of black cards while taking a menacing step forward. They were in trouble.

Well, Lazarus's personaliy really calls for him to be a recluse. He doesn't get involved with people easily, but exposure to Alex is softening him up slowly. If anyone wants to involve him, please feel free. I've also created a listing of the cards in every deck Lazarus carries, although it's currently rough and needs refining. I'll attach it to a post in here once I'm done with it, incase anyone wants to see it. :D

[center]Friday; The 42nd of Estembre; 6:49 PM[/center] It had taken Alex a little over an hour to navigate the complex. And standing at the center of the arena was Lazarus, shuffling a deck of cards. As Alex stepped into the arena, Lazarus pulled a card from the deck, twilrling it in his fingers to show the Seal of Heaven. "Heaven is something that a man only reaches when he dies without regret for anything in his life. Would you agree Alex?" Alex fingered his sword, eying the card warily. He'd seen Lazarus wield those innocuous looking objects with deadly finesse and incredible skill. Then again, Alex himself was a trained warrior of the academy. He was confident he could defend himself. Lazarus smiled. "Today, we'll have a chance to reach for Heaven." The card that had been between Lazarus's fingers sunk easily into the stone of the roof, quivering there, and large, solid columns of the floor followed it, turning the expanse between the two combatants into a many-tiered mountain of stonework. Lazarus's voice echoed out around the room. "First person to reach the card and retrieve it is the winner." A snap of the fingers followed, and the stonework blazed with magical energy. "Each platform will subject you and I to a variance of environmental effects. A change in temperature, pressure, gravity, the amount or composition of the air, or one of many varied monsters may be conjured for either of us. The conditions will change and are completly random, so sometimes pressing onward might be wiser than falling back." Lazarus announced. "Ready, Alex?" Alex's affirmative was a soft scrape of the point of his blade against the floor. "One more thing." Lazarus mentioned, causing Alex to draw up short in his rush to the first of the shifting and grinding pillars of stone, the muscles in his legs uncoiling for the spring that would have brought him to the flat surface of that stone as it shifted upwards. Alex watched it slide out of his leaping range balefully. "If we should encounter one another, I'd expect no quarter from you, Alex. Until one of us has that card, we are bitter enemies." Lazarus announced. "Now. Begin." And with that proclamation, both boys sprang towards the tower of shifting stones, and the ultimate goal for this exercise. Alex alighted upon the first stone, and felt the air in his lungs thicken into something like jelly. He tried to hack it up in alarm, but realized his body was suffering no symptoms of oxygen depravation. Whatever strange mechanics ruled this square of the challenge, they weren't directly harmful, just oppressive, an impediment. His eyes looked upwards, plotting his next jump. His entire body felt heavy, another effect of this particular square. His leap was powerful, but with the added gravity, he barely cleared the lip of the next ledge. At once, a blistering heat assailed him, sapping the moisture from his skin in a heartbeat. He frantically looked about for another square, knowing this one would quickly leech all the water from his body in mere moments. He considered hopping back down to his previous square, but discarded the idea. The squares changed, and while he'd be risking a new environment, he'd also be foregoing any forward progress he'd made. Mind made up, Alex timed his jump to the next pillar, one that was rising rapidly. His leap brought him to within a few feet of the ledge, and sinking his sword into the stone, he hauled himself up, swiftly dislodging his blade in the process. He turned to find himself confronted with a hulking monstrosity of a creature, a dusky green colored thing whose skin peeled off in flaky layers, like an onion. Alex sucked in a breath and raised his sword. A Troll.

[center]- Thursday; The 34th of Estembre; 6:27 PM -[/center] Lazarus walked down a hallway, his long cloak wrapped securely around himself to ward off the chill. This hallway was an exerior one, and opened onto the grounds with several open archways, leaving it exposed to the elements. That, of course, made heating this particular hall a chore, and as such most students avoided it at night during the colder winter months unless they were suitably armored against the chill. That was why Lazarus was surprised to see Alex sitting against the wall of the hallway in a spot where the light left him half-obscured. The boy had a knee draw up to his chest, holding it in place with an arm wrapped around it. His other leg was tucked underneath himself in a position that would guarantee it would be cramped up after fifteen minutes or so. Lazarus had the feeling that Alex had been here a lot longer than that. The black mage stopped and slumped against the wall next to Alex, sliding into a sitting position with his legs stretched out in front of him. "It's cold out tonight." Lazarus stated. Alex turned his head slowly, as if it required some monumental effort, and gazed uncomprehendingly at Lazarus. His eyes were flat and empty, devoid of emotion. Lazarus shook his head. "You know Alex, just when I think I have myself, and by extension, you, figured out, you go and do something like this. And I end up back at square one. I honestly don't know why I'm nice to you. You're insecure, you're meek to the point of it being a fatal flaw, you're bi-polar in the extreme." Lazarus said. "I could go on and on. But, like I said, I don't know why I do it. That's not to say that I *know* why, and it's a stupid idea. I literally don't know." Lazarus avoided looking at Alex, instead choosing to gaze out through an open archway into the endless blackness. "Myabe it's because you're a lot like me. A lot like I used to be. But I made my choice before things could get as bad for me as they did for you. And now you're out of time. You stand in a hallway with a pair of locked doors in front of you, Alex. You hold the key to both in your hand, but behind you, the ground falls away. You have to make a choice, and you have to do it soon. Wait too long, and you'll fall into the blackness, and be lost there forever. Don't do that Alex." Lazarus stood, and dropped his cloak on Alex, letting it fall securely around the other boy. "Don't deprive me of the only person I could ever call a friend." Lazarus finished as he walked down the hall and disappeared into the blackness between lights.

My thoughts were that it had to be in physical contact with you, or something you're wearing. The only issue with that would be like if someone were to stuff a satchel full of them. But a couple in a pocket is cool. Set in jewelry is good too.

Well folks, DH mentioned he wanted to work on the magic system. I've been slaving over a hot notepad, doing just that. Of course, this is subject to his final approval, but I want you all to see what I've got. I also [i]*need*[/i] to know if something doesn't make sense, as DH often has a hard time getting my concepts and things I'm trying to tell him, and vice-versa. I think it's a syntax barrier, but it seems to run deeper than that. I dunno. Anyway, here's what I got. *Attached* Please folks, I need some feedback. It is kinda late, and I've got that feeling like I've gone and left something unadressed but can't think of it, so if there's any questions on how something works in my ideascape, lemme know. EDIT: Erk! Forgot something that I just noticed! File updated with addition at 11:45 PM PST, Dec 10th.

[center]- 4:06 PM, 34th of Estembre. -[/center] OOC: Please note the placeholder which held this spot was *NOT* intended to stop anything, I merely wanted the progression of the fight in sequence, since I had the opportunity to do so. Alex drew his sword, holding it readily. "No, Alex." Lazarus said, waving a finger mockingly. "Magic. Fight me with your magic." Lazarus stomped a foot, and energy swirled around a previously unseen pattern on the floor. It rushed inward on dormant arcane lines of force, and exploded upwards, passing harmlessly through the combatants and forming a translucent dome. "The suppression field will keep us from killing one another." Lazarus noted. Both boys gazed skyward, and noted the dome above them was a peaceful blue. Lazarus closed his eyes, and his half of the dome promptly turned black. "Summon your magic, then attack me. When the dome becomes fully one color or the other, we will have decided a victor. Afterwards, we will train with weapons." Lazarus decreed. Alex closed his eyes and reached for the place inside him that hummed with energy and crackled with power. His half of the dome became consumed with writhing blue-white power. In the same breath, Alex felt his magic fillhis body, rushing upwards to pool in his fingertips, and he hurled a bolt of lightning towards the black mage. The dome overhead shifted as it responded to the expenditure of power, it's line shifting towards Lazarus slightly. The mage himself sidesteped, allowing the bolt to crash harmlessly against the shield wall behind him. The dome absorbed it, breaking the lightning into wriggling worms of energy that crackled upwards and joined with the rest of the dome. The line shifted further from Alex. Lazarus pulled a gloved hand from his left pocket, having tucked it in close to avoid the blast of lightning. The energy had flowed right past him, and he found himself struggling to hold the muscles of that arm in control for a moment. His hand opened, revealing a smooth deep blue orb that he rolled about in his gloved palm, before tossing it up slightly and catching it. The orb darkened, becoming a flawless obsidian color. "Strengthen yourself, Alex. Hold steady against this attack, or your future, your existence, ends here!" Lazarus tightened his fist around the orb, and eldritch power leaked from between his clenched fingers. His free hand was outstretched menacingly towards the other boy. "Drown." Lazarus intoned darkly, and Alex gagged as murky brackish water immediatley flowed out of his nose, and filled his mouth. He spat out the mouthful of water, and coughed up a small amount of the fluid that has slipped down his windpipe. "What the fuck was that!?!" Alex asked, the heat of battle and his own outrage pushing aside his normal meek behavior. Immediatley, his eyes widened and he slumped down, assuming a small posture as his own words sunk in. "I didn't mean..." Alex started lamely. "Yes. Yes you did. Don't shy away from your gut reactions. They're there to keep you alive. That was a low trick of me, and you reacted appropriatley. We both know the rules for these kinds of "encounters" and we hadn't agreed on any variants. Therefore...." Lazarus said, kneeling and withdrawing his curse back into himself fully. "I yield." Lazarus said, as the dome reacted to the retraction of power and flowed overhead, funneing downward into Alex, racing through him and filling his being with it's energy before dissipating it's excess into the floor. Alex dropped to his knees and fell forward, bracing himself on his hands, panting heavily as the magical energy ran rampant through his body. When the blinding pain was over, his very body seemed to be bursting with energy. "W--- wha-" Alex tried, but couldn't get the words out. His lungs were burning, it felt like he couldn't get enough air. Lazarus paced over quickly and knelt down next to Alex, helping him up and slinging an arm around his shoulder. "Take it easy. Breathe deep, and stay conscious." He instructed. Alex did as he was told, and moments later, felt the power settle into a tight, simmering coil in his chest, not painful, but strong enough to make him aware of it's presence. With every passing second, the intensity diminished. "That was the secret of this complex. It weeds out the unworthy, and upon the truly worthy, it bestows strength after a show of the same. It's expanded your capacity for magic, although from what I've read and experienced, the aftereffects can be quite...detrimental." Alex turned his head to look at the mage supporting him. "How?" "Physical weakness, sudden shortness of breath, unexpected rushes of adrenaline, hightened sensitivity of touch to the point of pain, and a slackening of control over your magic. All but the last have always disappeared over the course of a good night's sleep. The last can persist for up to a week, but usually only lasts two or three days." Lazarus said conversationally. Alex chuckled, hanging his head as he shuffled forward with Lazarus. "Just like you to be glib when discussing side effects." remarked the platinum blonde. Alex's eyes darkened with concern. "How bad is the slackening of control?" Lazarus shook his head slghtly. "Not horribly bad. Once you draw on your power, you may find it hard to control with precision, like changing direction while running on ice. Likewise, you will have to be careful to judge your use of it, as it will be quick to respond to a summons, and slow to answer a dismissal." Lazarus looked up, the large doors to the complex looming over them. Lazarus brought them up short in front of the doors, and slapped a palm against them. The doors slid open soundlessly, revealing the long hallway that led out of the complex and back into the school proper. Once they'd passed beyond the portal, Lazarus waved a hand at it, and it sealed itself. Alex cocked an eyebrow. "How'd you seal it without touching it?" Lazarus smiled, a genuine smile that seemed out of place on his face. "Many secrets of this academy belonged to the black mages of old, and they in turn, belong to their predecessors. Namely, me." "But, what about Nox?" Lazarus snorted. "Nox? Like the headmaster would entrust him with the secrets of this school. No, Nox craves power not for it's own sake like I do, but rather for more ...corporeal ends. Now, enough with the questions. Where's your room? I'll drop you off there. I expect to see you again in a week in the complex. The door has been keyed to you, and will allow you passage once." Alex began to supply directions to his room, and Lazarus followed them without comment. When he reached the boy's room, he removed Alex's arm from around his shoulders. "You should be able to stand." Lazarus said, then simply turned and walked off. As Lazarus descended a flight of stairs down to his own room, he pondered over the recent events, especially puzzled by his own behavior. [i]Could it be I want him to be my friend, because, in his own way, he's as damaged as me?[/i] Lazarus pondered as he opened his door and stepped inside his room, closing the door behind him.

[center]- 3:46 PM, 34th of Estembre. -[/center] Another knock startled Alex right back out of his book. "Yes, Monique?" Alex queried, wondering if the girl had forgotten something. The door swung open to reveal Lazarus, who soundlessly stepped over the threshold, and closed the portal behind him. "Glessen. I heard you took a beating today. Kristos put the fear of frost into you." Lazarus said without preamble. Alex's eyes widened with surprise. This was unexpected. "It's Gleason." Alex mentioned quietly. Lazarus smirked. "When do you get out of here? We're going to go train." Alex narrowed his eyes. This was Lazarus. Self-made social flatliner, and one of the more eccentric students the academy hosted during it's tenure. "Why me?" Alex asked, fighting to keep his insecurity from questioning the situation. Such things would most likely get the offer withdrawn, and earn him the cold shoulder from Lazarus as well. And he'd seen what happened to people who annoyed the black mage. "Because you want to be more than you are, right? I saw something in you during that encounter the other day. That moment of focused, tight rage in your eyes. You wanted to tear those boys' throats out, to drown yourself in their blood, gorge on their flesh, for daring to take what was yours." Lazarus observed, moving to sit in the chair next to the bed. "My question to you, Alex, is why didn't you? What held you back? What holds you back [i]right this second[/i] from tearing out [i]my[/i] throat? What keeps you from doing your best to level this school? You crave recognitiion, right? Why not get it through strength? Fear is not hatred, and fear you, people will, should you choose that course of action. It's a lonely existence though, always watching your back. You'd be destined to die aone, with no one who truly understood the real you who you hadn't already killed." Lazarus said, leaning forward and holding eye contact. "Then, there's the other route. Make yourself a hero. Give selflessly, and be lauded with praise in return. Becoming a hero is hard work, harder ever than commanding respect through fear. You may find at the end of a day as a hero, you won't be able to look yourself in the eyes in a mirror anymore. In time, you'll lose who you really are to the facade of the hero that you present." Lazarus said, sitting back. "Either way, those are the two routes open to you. This school, this way of life, will allow you to walk both paths in equal measure, and you shall find out if the bittersweet fruits of sacrifice, or the tantalizing fruits of selfishness are more to the liking of your palete. Either path will require strength of mind, body, and character. What say you to my offer?" Lazarus asked finally, arching a delecate eyebrow in silent challenege.

The one holding the sword walked into a robed figure, and promptly bounced off, landing on his rear in an undignified manner. "Watch where you're going, trash." Lazarus threatened. The boy on the ground growled and leapt to his feet, his friends flanking him. "What did you say?" The boy hollered, his grip whitening around the hil of the sword. Lazarus eyed the weapon, noting the clumsy way he held it. Lazarus's eyes slid past the fuming boy, and saw Alex crumpled on the ground. Lazarus grinned. "I changed my mind. I'm glad I ran into you. Trash like you who need to devalue others to acknowledge their own existance..." Lazarus fingered a deck of playing cards that seemed to materialize in his gloved hand, fanning them out. "You don't deserve to live." The boy holding Alex's sword screamed, a feral wordless sound, and raised the boy's sword to attack, swinging it downward to chop Lazarus in two. One of his cohorts eyes widened as he was pulled forward, tugged inward towards the conflict and placed in the line of the swinging weapon. He struggled, but a wave of sudden nausea washed over him, and he fell to his knees, retching. His eyes rolled back into his head, and he lay still, shaking and groaning as a magical sickness wracked his body. The boy swinging the sword had pulled his chop when his friend had been endangered, and turned it into a vicious thrust towards the Black Mage. Lazarus stepped sideways, allowing the blade to knick his side. "Hn. Got ya." The boy exulted. Lazarus's unnerving grin never left his face. "No. I've got you." The boy dropped the sword to the ground, and his eyes widened as a black mist seemed to rise from the ground around him. "N-no....S-stay back! Keep them away! PLEASE! KEEP THEM AWAY! STAY BACK!" The boy was in hysterics, swinging his hands and legs at the mist, fighting something only he could see. Lazarus retrived the stolen sword, shooting a poignant look at the thrid boy, the fire mage, Jarek. The promise was clear. Interfere and die. The returning message was equally clear. No way will I stand by and let you do this to my friends. Lazarus grinned, and knelt next to Alex, offering the recovered weapon. "C'mon. Stand up, and teach this trash a lesson."

Lazarus sat in the back of Master Runes and Sigils, quietly nodding off. Which was amusing, since he was one of the three students in the class, and the only one who had chosen to attend that day. It wasn't as if attendance wasn't mandatory, far from it. But with exams and Finals coming up, the advanced students one might find in classes such as these often shirked their classes in order to study. Of course, being the only student in class, regardless of class size, makes you the only logical target for any punishment. Meaning no sleeping. The professor in charge of the class stood a good five feet away from the student in question, who now had his head slumped down on his desk and was snoring quietly. Normally, Lazarus could get away with such things, his assignments being full of insightful comments and unorthodox methods that produced results thanks to his unique "gift". Currently that "gift" was being used to keep the instructor beyond arms length, or, more to the point, beyond yardstick range, which he brandished threateningly in the general direction of his student. "Mr. McCloud!" The teacher shouted. He could have been talking to a brick wall for all his hapless student responded to his reverberating shout. Giving up, the professor hurled his yardstick forcefully like a javelin in an attempt to awaken the slumbering mage... It thwacked harmlessly off of a steel-edged playing card, both objects ending up on the floor. Lazarus sat at his desk, a deck of playing cards stacked neatly on the wooden surface. A notebook detailed a strange clock-like symbol, one of the many manipulations of Order. The symbol had been scribbled over in some places, replaced with jagged swirls and aimlessly waving lines. The professor had his interest piqued, and attempted to step closer to examine the strange symbol. A wave of nausea washed over him as he advanced too close, and he stumbled back, clutching his stomach and dropping to his knees. Lazarus rose, tapping his deck of playing cards before tearing off the top sheet of his notebook and moving to deposit it on the desk of the professor. The professor noted the obsidian gleam the card took on, and rose unsteadily from his kneeling position as Lazarus passed him again. The mage swept his notebook and cards off the desk, and moved to the large door in the back of the class. "See you next week, professor." He called out as the door closed behind him. The professor merely shook his head, and moved to his desk. That boy was so strange....

I'll apply. [b]Name:[/b] Lazarus McCloud [b]Age:[/b] 18 [b]Student Template:[/b] The Dark Hero - Freespot Application! [b]Weapon:[/b] Enchanted Gambling Cards - Cards edged and weighted with enchanted steel and cut for throwing accuracy. [b]School of Magic:[/b] Black Magic [b]Minored School of Magic:[/b] Elemental - Water [b]Abilities/Spells[/b]: [list] [*]Chaos Curse - As a black mage, Lazarus has contact with powers dark and profane. The foremost of his abilities is the Chaos Curse. This allows him several distinct advantages in a confrontation. The Curse hangs about him like a malaise, an aura of distinct evil. Lazarus can discharge the curse into a target he has physical contact with, or into his playing cards. The effect is varied depending on what Lazarus would like to manifest. It runs from sapping lifeforce, causing disease and infirmity, to blasting the target with shadowy energy. Only Lazarus knows the depths of it's powers. Only one target may be affected by the curse at a time, and once Lazarus has dismissed the effect, he must reapply it. [*]Black Guard - This ability makes manifest the deepest, greatest fear of a target who has struck Lazarus. The phantom behaves as if it were real, moving to strike the target down. Other combat participants see only a vage shadowy mass with no distinct edges or features. [/list] [b]Personality:[/b] A brooding dark individual, Lazarus makes friends slowly. Even those who he is friends with, he keeps at arms length. Due to the chaotic and strange nature of his magic, he has closed himself off from normal relationships. Lazarus is not a shy individual, but he prefers to let others learn from their mistakes, and so doesn't often offer an opinion in group situations without being asked. Lazarus often breaks unifrom dress, electing to wear an amulet proclaiming him to be a student of the school instead, along with simple black robes, adorned with red runes. The sigil denoting his position at the school is contained within an ornate cross, and hangs at his throat. The sword he carries is an old family memento, the only thing of his heritage he has left. The edges are dull and useless, the surface kept gleaming by constant attention. [b]Background:[/b] Lazarus was born to parents of average descent. His father was a librarian, his mother, a businesswoman. His powers manifested at a young age. Children at schools shunned him, people were afraid to go near him at all. A standard test for magical aptitude revealed the truth. Lazarus was a black mage. His acceptance to the school of Argo Arx Arcanum was recieved with trepidation. It had been some time since the last student who majored in Black Magic. Several events within his life had an impact on Lazarus, including the death of his mother when his powers manifested, stealing her very soul. Lazarus has refrained from utilizing that aspect of his powers ever since that incident. His father withdrew from him, effectivley disowning him. Shunned by his family, Lazarus turned to his powers. Perhaps if someone had been there for him, things would have turned out differently, but now he strives to master control of his powers, and perhaps release the soul of his departed mother. Who knows what price darkness will exact for such a boon? [b]Physical Apperance:[/b] [url=http://i107.photobucket.com/albums/m313/DrkLazarus/Oro1.jpg]Lazarus[/url] [url=http://i107.photobucket.com/albums/m313/DrkLazarus/Oro2.jpg]Another Angle[/url] [b]Character Snippet:[/b] "-cuse me, Mr. McCloud, would you like to join the rest of us today?" "Gladly, professor." Came the expected reply. "Good. Now, as I was saying-" Before the professor could continue, Lazarus had again turned his attention to the sigil he had been absently carving into his desk. A moment later, the small knife he'd been using had been plucked from his hand, and the handle waggled insultingly under his nose. "Mr. McCloud! Am I going to have to send you to -" Lazarus had been removing his heavy glove from his left hand. He placed his palm across his desk, and watched as his professor sagged with relief as his curse was discharged into the newly carved sigil. Without the curse manifested on his person, people could approach him much closer than normally. The teacher moved to manhandle the studet out of his chair by his ear, and the sigil flared brightly. A burst of shadowy flame lept from the sigil, causing the teacher to yelp in surprise and yank his hand back from the dark fire. Lazarus stood and moved around the teacher, who hadn't been fast enough to withdraw, and was now sucking on two affected fingers, attempting to restore their warmth and circulation. "I think I've passed your course, professor." Lazarus said, pulling his glove on and fastening it. He moved past the door, and recalled his curse, the sigil on the desk becoming an inert symbol. On the chalkboard was a near-perfect duplicate of the sigil now burned into the wood of the desk. The door tag announced the classroom as "Magical Symbols".