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".

Typo corrected. An extra comma skewed the meaning of the line.

[b]Name:[/b] Lathian [B]Gender:[/B] Male [B]Age:[/B] 22 [B]Demon Form:[/B] Forsetti [B]Weapon:[/B] Delling [B]Rank:[/B] Second-in-Command, Tactical Advisor [B]Physical description:[/B] [url=http://i107.photobucket.com/albums/m313/DrkLazarus/devilforgemaster.jpg]Lathian[/url] [B]Personality:[/B] Lathian is cold, and ruthless. Unlike other command structures where the leadership position is merely for show, and the second in command actually carries out all the work, the Tribe splits it's responsibilities fairly among it's leader and his second. Lathian supports his commander unfailingly in public, but understands that any good leader needs men who're just as good supporting them, if not better. To that end, Lathian is able to relax and joke around with Vidgar. Lathian is the only one from whom Vidgar will tolerate questions from a tactical standpoint. Lathian almost seems to relish the more unpleasant jobs of command. He figures, if they have to be done, someone should at least do them right. It isn't as if Lathian doesn't have any emotions. Far from it. He simply understands that to become emotional on the battlefield is to make a mistake eventually, and to err is to die. Outside of a combat situation, Lathian is usually quite chipper and upbeat. He is possessed of a razor sharp wit, which he enjoys putting to use for the ammusement of himself and others. [B]Combat Tactics:[/B] Lathian is devilishly quick, and what ammount of Holy magic he commands is usually reserved for priority or special targets. As much as Vidgar is prone to charging into combat without thinking about it, Lathian is always there to back him up. Many battles have ended with the two standing back-to-back surrounded by piles of fallen foes. One of their favorite techniques is to rotate around each other, confusing and tripping up foes as their opponents keep changing. A reversal in rotation keeps the enemy off a step when they begin to catch on to the timing. [B]Skills:[/B] Lathian has an affinity for art, and has taken up drawing and sketching, as well as painting. His subjects are wide and varied, and the use of colors borders on garish, as if he were trying to repel the bleak nature of their existance. [B]Phobias and Weaknesses:[/B] Lathian carries within himself a deep rooted fear of change. He has experienced what change can do firsthand, and he is reluctant to have his newfound freedom of mind and thought taken away. [B]Pet Peeves:[/B] Lathian has a strong dislike of horseplay. Soliders who routinely goof around usually find themselves standing guard over the latrine, or being handed over to Vidgar for punishment.

Lazarus had stayed on deck during the artillery barrage. The shadows on the deck had swarmed and protected him and Aaron, absorbing the kinetic force of the sharpnel and firing the pieces of metal back out over the water. When the transport docked Lazarus jumped down off the prow of the boat, Aaron landing close behind him. Lazarus glanced back at Aaron as bullets stretched the shadow-stuff cloaking them out, before rocketing directly back along their previous paths. The enemy quickly ceased firing on the two of them. Lazarus grinned, a feral, frightening thing. "Shall we go dance among our enemies?" Aaron's nod sent the two of them sprinting across the sand towards a knot of infantry that dotted the beach, crouched and hidden behind a protective concrete-wall. Lazarus dropped to his knees in front of the wall, and cupped his hands down low behind his back. Aaron understood, and stepped into the foothold. Lazarus launched him up high, then buried his hands in the sand, drawing on his shadow, the shadows of the men on the other side of the wall, and the shadow of the wall itself. The muscles in his back and legs strained, and the wall began to shift and rise, coming free of the beachhead. Lazarus pushed to full extension, shadow swirling around him and bolstering his strength to a freakish level. The wall groaned, and came free of the sand with a sucking sound. A large trench was left in the sand, which quickly filled and then drained with blood, from Aaron's handiwork on the opposite side. A mortar blast rocked the wall Lazarus held aloft, and he staggered back, before finding his balance finally. "Down!" He shouted. Aaron dropped, and Lazarus brought the length of concrete into a tight spin before sending it whirling off into another fortified position up the beachhead. A satisfying explosion was heard twice, once from the wall utterly shattering the softer and lighter sandbag fortifications that the mortar teams were using thanks to sighting logistics, and again when a pair of mortars (now unattended) went off harmlessly. A fireball crashed down into Lazarus's feet, but thankfully he'd already been moving forward, and the blast only propelled him forward a half-step. The enemy mages had arrived. Lazarus grinned maniacally, and strode off towards the forest where the other mages were no doubt hiding. It was time to kill them all.

Lazarus stood and clmibed the ladder up to the hatch of the ship, arriving on the deck. He gve Aaron a wide berth, and moved around to the prow of the ship. He climbed over the guardrail with a fluid grace, and settled down on the front of the ship, letting the spray from the bobbing prow wash over him. A sudden impulse took Lazarus, and he reached up and pushed his hood back, forcibly dispelling the magical darkness that shrouded his features. He removed the black gloves on his hands, revealing the deathly pale skin underneath. His fingers slowly traced the markings he knew were around his eyes. The serpent-like stripes, that carried a soft crimson color, not unlike his eyes. The spray washed his features, gathering in droplets on his face and hands, and slowly ran down to drip onto his cloak, and the ship itself, even as his mind was miles away. Without even thinking, his fingers convulsed, and the shadows on the deck thickened, and flowed, gathering into his hand, before fading back, leaving his family's sword behind, firmly clenched in his grip. He produced a whetstone from under his cloak, and began to sharpen the normally dull edges. It was time to use what was his birthright.

Lazarus stood in the doorway of the infirmary, watching the interplay between Carrot and Ayame. He'd heard about the teams for the Final already. Technically, his interference could have cost Ayame her victory in the trial, but her effort was very clear-cut, and there was no doubt that without help she would have died. The Trial was always about finalizing strengths. Ayame's strength was her friends. Deep within Lazarus, a brilliant white flame flickered and grew stronger. Lazarus's eyes drifted over Kyosuke. He walked over to him where he lay on a bed. "Come find me later. Bring the others on our team. It's necessary that we work on our teamwork for the Final. Failure will mean our deaths. And I did not do what I did to die here. I'm certain none of us did." Before Kyo could reply, Lazarus moved away, stopping at Ayame's bedside. "Are you alright? I appologize for my interference earlier. It could easily have gotten you disqualified. I was ... not quite myself." Carrot just stared as Ayame nodded. "I'm fine. Thanks for your help." Lazarus nodded, content. "Take care of yourself." With that, Lazarus left the infirmary. --- The Library was always his favorite place to be. He sat with a book in front of him, staring at the pages and not seeing a single thing. He just couldn't concentrate. [i]This is no good. I need to work off some steam. And it'd be nice to know exactly what I'm capable of. There's all this power inside me, but I'm worried that if I draw on it, I won't be able to stop.[/i] Lazarus stood, pushing his chair back with a soft scrape on the carpeted floor. He moved to the door, and exited, leaving the book on the table. His shadow stalked along the wall next to him, and he paused, thinking. [i]Something simple then.[/i] Lazarus turned to face the wall, his shadow shifting to reflect it's owners pose. [b]*Go find Alex Glessen, and return to me with directions when you've found him.*[/b] The words were spoken with a dark power behind them. A crimson glow flashed in the shadow's face in a mockery of it's owners eyes, and then disappeared. The shadow melted into the stone it had been cast on, like slime running down a suddenly opened drain. Lazarus moved onward, no longer casting a shadow.

When Alex concluded his trial and walked from the door, Lazarus was watching. He stood, concealed in shadow across from the doorway. "Congratulations, Alex." Lazarus said. The words sounded deep and resonant, yet somehow empty, bereft of any passion. Alex's head snapped up and he squinted into the shadows. Lazarus opened his eyes and stepped forward into the light, allowing his outline to become clear. "Who are you?" He asked. Lazarus laughed, a dark and evil sound. "I'm Lazarus, Alex. Don't tell me your trial has put you that out of sorts." "Lazarus?" Alex asked quietly. He reached up to touch the other man in reflex, and Lazarus stepped back out of his reach. "Do not." Was his only instruction. Alex squinted, trying to pierce the veil of shadows that hid Lazarus's face. "What happened to you?" "I passed my trial. What happened to you?" Lazarus asked. "You had something of a conversation with yourself for a moment there before I was whisked away. Seemed very heated. Something to do with a certain redhead maybe?" Lazarus asked. He would have felt awful about this normally, but not having come to grips with his transformation, he certainly didn't want to have to explain it to anyone else. Alex flushed and stammered something unintelligible. Lazarus nodded. "We both have our secrets it seems." Lazarus held out a gloved hand. "Shall we go see how the others fare?"

Alex was taking his trial. Lazarus had turned from the door as soon as he entered. He'd stuck around long enough to push the boy into the test. All it had taken was a single word. "Come, Mister McCloud. It is your time." Lazarus followed the magister wordlessly to another chamber. "The others are occupied?" The magister nodded. The door stood, an unassuming white portal that led to a room that was without definition. The contents of the room truly lay within the student, without the academy, everywhere but where the room stood. This was the secret of the Trials. The students would be empowered, their weaknesses burned away, their strengths hardened and cast in the crucible of these rooms. Lazarus vanished within, to a place that was timeless. The door swung shut of it's own accord. [center]---[i]Within the Trial Chamber[/i]---[/center] An empty, formless blackness. In the distance, a light, soft, quiet, unassuming. This light had burned for years, and would burn for many more. Lazarus understood the symbolism. The flame was the representation of himself, of his life. Standing over the flame, warming his hands, was Arreleis Mox. Lazarus shook his head. "I knew I'd never be rid of you." Mox smiled, a wan, tired thing. "Of course. Let your trial begin." "It already has." Lazarus pointed out. Each of his friends sat around the flame, warming their hands. One by one, they turned and smiled, greeting Lazarus before turning back to their own conversations. Lazarus stepped up to Alex and calmly slashed his throat with a razored card. The boy crumpled like a ragdoll, his eyes and lips still smiling as blood poured from the sucking gash in his trachea. His voice became an unintelligible gurgle. [i]Ayame...Kyosuke...Rinoa...Blaize...Carrot...[/i] Each name crossed his mind, and their faces looked to him expectantly as he knelt in front of them. He did not disappoint. One by one, Lazarus disposed of those he would call his friends. When he was done, he stood by the flame in the center, and took a moment to warm his hands. Then he leaned forward and drank deeply of the liquid fire. When he withdrew, the flame was gone. Lazarus' body burned brightly, illuminated from within. The blackness about seemed stronger, more cloying somehow. He turned to Mox. "Fulfill your final task, Arreleis." The specter nodded, and stepped forward, passing into the glowing teenager, and becoming absorbed into him. Lazarus was shrouded in darkness. All was still. The darkness pulsed, then burst, revealing Lazarus standing garbed in a midnight cloak and hood. His features were obscured. He stepped towards the basin that had held the brilliant flame of his life, and exhaled slowly, breathing outward from deep within. A formless [i]something[/i] slithered across the distance between him and the basin, somehow darker than the blackness around, and slid noiselessly into the basin. An ebony blaze sprung into being. It's fel light failed to piece the hood of shadows that veiled the young sorcerer. It did however illuminate two crimson eyes, slanted just so as to give off a feeling of penultimate evil. Lazarus turned and walked from the room. His boots crunched on eleven sets of bones as he did so.

[b]Day 2, sometime after the assembly meeting.[/b] Lazarus was walking along the hallway, an ornate black metal staff clutched in his right hand. He had eschewed the school uniform after the assembly, opting for a loose pair of pants and an overlarge shirt, over which he wore voluminous black robes. A smile of genuine mirth crossed his features. "I suppose I must look quite like the archetypical evil wizard today." Lazarus considered the staff he was using to support his weight. It had been Mox's. Lazarus thought it ironically fitting. He knew the staff was ensorcelled. He also had no desire to find out how it was so enchanted. It was simply a support while his side healed. Thanks to the prompt and able attentions of nurse Mallon, the wound Lazarus had sustained avoided infection. However, it did require stitches, and was quite tender. Normally, support magic would have been used to close the wound and regenerate the lost tissue, but there was much reluctance to rely upon magic to treat a wound inflicted by a creature of Aggamemmnon's caliber. For once, Lazarus did not have pressing meetings with the bastardly instructor looming over him. With classes canceled, he was at a loss for things to do. He'd slept until the announcement for the assembly had woken him, had eaten a large breakfast with gusto, and had promptly found himself bored out of his skull. Without realizing it, Lazarus had arrived at the courtyard and gardens. He moved to a stone bench sitting near to a fountain, and sat upon it, staring upward into the sky even as he turned his attentions inward to think about the last few days.

[center][img] http://img301.imageshack.us/img301/6103/fpwbosbanao3.jpg[/img] ---[/center] [i]Time immemorial?[/i] Mankind has secured their safety from creatures beyond the scope of reality. Along with their banishment, humanity has severed itself from the influences of the cosmos. Earth has become a magical dead-zone. Humans turn to the sciences, to the stars? [i]Current Day Earth?[/i] Several discoveries of torn and mutilated bodies has taken place over the past few years. Attacks were isolated, quiet affairs. The victims were passed off as animal attacks. Losses were mourned, bodies laid to rest. And the world continued on. The rate of losses began to climb steadily, and a task force was launched, as these affairs began to impact suburban communities around the world, striking fear into the hearts of people worldwide. Finally, a breakthrough was made. Completely by accident, a camera carried by a young couple managed to catch a couple frames of an inexplicable monster. Enhancements of the four frames revealed images with strange effects on the viewers. Everyone to view the images was stricken with a panic attack, and later reported seeing their greatest fear. The investigations continued. While humanity conducted its searches, the unearthly forces arrayed against them moved to restore that which was altered eons ago. The rate of attacks increased. Remote towns became empty, ghostlike as people relocated to larger population centers. Still, attacks continued, growing in frequency, in ferocity. A public outcry ensued. What were the governments of the world doing to protect their people? Cites became overrun, whole towns desolate shells of their former selves, inhabited by creatures that manifested from the shadows. Militaries began training soldiers in self-control tactics, hoping to confront these horrific creatures. Major cities became bastions of civilization, fortifications were erected, and that brings us to today. Unknown to the public, seven soldiers were created at the start of these attacks, grown, and genetically engineered to be far above the peak of physical and mental perfection and each gifted with special abilities beyond those of normal humans. These soldiers were collectively referred to as "Project Sin". Their goal was not to stand against these attacks, but to trace them to the source, and stop them, permanently. It has been six months since the final members of the project were activated. Intelligence agents captured samples of the strange creatures ages ago, and recently, these samples have been stolen. The first mission of the team will be to recover these samples. They are currently being recalled to their local command offices. Transport to a joint center in an undisclosed location for a briefing and dispatch will occur. [center]* * *[/center] You as a player are invited to step into the shoes of one of these seven super soldiers, and write the history of this world along with your comrades. Each soldier will have a country of origin, overlap is permitted. Your special abilities should be built and based around your callsign, as outlined below. [center]* * *[/center] [b]Name:[/b] Drake "Wrath" Powell [b]Origin:[/b] United States [b]Age:[/b] Chronologically- 3, Physically- 23. [b]Gender:[/b] Male [b]Appearance:[/b] Tall, wears a brilliant white trench coat and black gloves, with black combat boots. Has short black hair, streaked with red. [b]Demeanor:[/b] Calm, cold, collected. The strategist of the group. Drake has a strong rebellious streak, and a great sense of justice. He will often defy a direct order if it runs contrary to his constitution. On the battlefield, Drake is merciless. He will make incredible sacrifices and use underhanded and sneaky tactics to win an engagement. [b]Weapons:[/b] [list] [*]Twin .44 pistols (18 rounds to a clip), Rounds modified to have hollow chambers, filled with a magnesium and thermite powder with fireproofed steel cores, and sulfur ignition tips. [*]Devastation - A two handed greatsword, Devastation is a marvel of modern engineering. Manufactured from ultra-lightweight alloys, Devastation vibrates at a super-sonic frequency. The blade is powered by internal cells which gather energy from motion and momentum. The frequency vibration is strong enough to displace air, giving Devastation a lethal vacuum edge. Unfortunately, the technology was inapplicable to anything but a large blade such as Devastation. Smaller blades resonated at higher frequencies due to their lesser mass, and shattered easily on impact. Devastation is wielded with one hand with a mediocre amount of effort due to its lightweight composition, but it is difficult to control due to its large surface area and displacement caused by the vibration. [/list] [b]Powers:[/b] [list] [*]Adrenaline Rush- The manipulation of the body and its internal chemistry is not an unknown practice to man. The abilities exhibited by the members of Project Sin are beyond the level of anything recorded before. Drake is able to force his body into a heightened state of metabolism and action, moving at a rate beyond the normal visual range. Such exertion is not without its tolls though. While wounds may heal faster with increased metabolism, such activity leaves him famished and fatigued afterwards. [*]Blackheart Rage- As is appropriate for his call-sign, Drake has occasional bouts with inhuman bloodlust. In these situations, he is a danger to anything that he considers a threat. He has ignored wounds that would normally be physically crippling, including a shattered pelvis and cracked spinal column. Tests revealed no permanent damage for what should have been disfiguring injuries. His hate truly sustains him in one of his rages. [/list] Seven Deadly Sins are: [list] [*]Wrath(Taken) [*]Envy [*]Avarice [*]Sloth [*]Gluttony [*]Lust [*]Pride [/list] (Please note that I am reserving final say on which characters are and aren't accepted. Images are not mandatory, but if you prefer to use one, that is perfectly fine.)

Lazarus took a deep breath as if organizing his thoughts before continuing. "Yeah. You remind me of myself. I suppose I should be thankful to Mox. He gave me a reason to better myself, harden myself. Nevermind that it was hate that fueled me. It taught me how to eat, how to drink, how to breathe. I thought I would die with all the hate in my veins. I just couldn't let anyone else go through that. Least of all, you." "Why though?" Lazarus smirked, lost in his thoughts. "Because you reminded me of myself. I was so unsure, quiet, withdrawn. I killed my own mother. Did you know? No, that's a silly question. Of course you didn't. It's not like it was intentional. My gift manifested one day, and simply stripped the soul right from her body. She was literally dead before she hit the ground, in every sense that the word dead can be applied." A single tear traced it's way down Lazarus's cheek, and he wiped it away angrily. "My father, he resolved to get rid of me. Afterall, I'd killed his beloved wife. He was going to send me away to a boarding school. Then the magisters came. They slapped this watch on me, and my life here began." Lazarus held up his wrist, showing off the onyx faced watch. A bitter chuckle escaped Lazarus's lips. "You wouldn't believe what my first year was like. I refused to have anything to do with anyone. I was so worried I'd hurt them, or worse. Mox was brought in from a field assignment to tutor me specially, since I wouldn't attend classes. He nealy broke me. He worked on shattering my spirit day and night. One day, I just...had enough. I resolved that dying would have been better than this, and I called upon my gift to send me to my mother." Alex looked on, stunned, as Lazarus continued. "I awoke, on the floor, with Mox standing over me. He was battered and beaten. I only found out later that not only had I channeled my curse, but that I channeled it into him and had nearly torn him apart before he'd been able to render me unconscious. I wish I'd held on for a few moments longer. Then none of you would have been drug into this. After that, I turned into the person I am today. I guess I still push people away. Some part of that fear that I'm going to hurt someone will always be with me, and that's how I deal with it, I suppose."