The Harlequin

[font=gothic][color=indigo]Tch. Why me. No, really, why me? I mean, come on. Not only are you forcing me to comply to whatever set classes (and therefore standards), you also didn't set aside a place for me as a drider. I stand shocked, appalled and what not. In fact, to hell with it. I'll sign up, and you can swear at me for not doing it right later. And Sage, Salvatore never started to suck, Name: Kynjaka, The Night Hunter. Species: Glabrezu Age: Irrelevant Rank: I suppose warrior/magic user would count. Appearance: Well, obviously demonoid, since he's a glabrezu. Which means, of course, that I'll have to explain that. Glabrezu are greater tanar'ri fiends, behind only the balor in power. Anyway, Kynjaka is about 10 feet tall, making him probably the largest glabrezu around. For that height, he is remarkably muscular by mortal standards, though not as bulky as many fiends, in relation he is actually slender. His head is pantherish rather than the common dog-like face of most creatures, replete with black fur and fangs longer than most mortal daggers. His eyes are dark, possessing no whites or pupils, a uniform blackness. When light is shone over them however, they appear the gemstone ameythst of some of the Underdark's larger bats. Most of Kynjaka's body is covered with similiar light, dark fur, asiding the hands on the upper set of arms. Kynjaka has the usual multiple limbs. The normal set of arms from the shoulder possess drow-like (thought much larger of course) hands, though taloned, and the second set, from the middle ribs (about a foot below the others), possess animalistic claws rather than typical pincers. His wings are more batlike than most, and that combined with the eyes gives him the monkier Night Hunter, after the Underdark's great bats. Those wings are covered in a very soft, light fur, and are always pristine, never rent like many other fiends'. Kynjaka's lower body is also muscled like a cat's, and he possess large paws complete with dewclaws rather than feet. Weapon: Asiding his body, Kynjaka has access to a rather large flamberge, Ryvkaileir (Translates rather roughly to "The scar that crosses the wraith of the world"). The total length of the blade is about seven feet. The crosspiece is more than a foot long. It's waved length, when examined very closely, is not smooth, but possesses millions of small bards and hooks, each less than a millimetre high. You could run you hand over it without drawing blood, but should Kynjaka choose, the same action could scrape to the bone. It is also, of course, variously enchanted. Kynjaka is also adept at some rather powerful magicks. Bio: Glabrezu. More feared than balor in many planes, simply because they appear more often, and are no so caught up in their infighting. They are powerful enough to resist or warp most summons to the material plane, asiding those by the most powerful of priests and wizards. When summoned by lesser beings, they simply kill their would-be masters and wreak havoc. A fiend's greatest pleasure is kill on the material plane. Kynjaka is one of the more powerful glabrezu. Powerful enough that no lesser types of demon dare challenge him. Powerful enough to be a more than worthy prize for many other glabrezu...Powerful enough to attract attention from the great balor...Not,in fact, an enviable position. In fact, Kynjaka holds some unofficial record for most attempts on his life. All demons desire to be drawn to the mortal plane, to slaughter all mannerof creatures as their whims dictate. Except some of the greater balor lords, who refuse to be drawn into mortal power games for any reason. Kynjaka had an extra reason...his own survival. When the summon gate opened, Kynjaka tore its intended recipient to shreds, and fought off many others, to leap through the shimmering portal. The human wizard, a surface dweller in the midst of a war, was delighted. He continued to be so until he realised his "mystic protections", a single Protection vs Alignment spell, were basically useless, an Kynjaka devoured him and his magic without pause. Rather than stay on the surface, a place less than hospitable to his ilk, where he would most likely be "killed", and thus banished to the Abyss for a century, with no way to escape his predatory kin, Kynjaka travelled to the Underdark, to the great city of the Drow. After all, where else would a demon find such welcome? Of course, many of the priestesses of Loloth attempted to wring him into servitude, mainly meeting with fatal failure. Kynjaka made it quite clear that he had no intention of serving anyone, and to emphasise this he fell in with one of the more powerful mercenary bands around the city, mainly made of up of disinherited mages, that was more powerful than many established houses. (Think Bregan D'aerthe) This, of course, meant that attempting to poach him was a very bad idea. Kynjaka now serves as something of a trump card, for when the mercenary band gets itself into more trouble than it is worth.[/font][/color]

[font=gothic][color=indigo][I]Lifé's mouth closed, her teeth gritted in either pain or pleasure. Ilmiwyrth stiffened his fore and index fingers, and jabbed downwards. As soon as her was inside her, he spread his fingers. As her mouth opened, the harsh, low moan she sought to keep from him escaped, ripped out of her through his swift, violent motions. Her moans, unable to sustain her desperate need for breath, trailed into quick, frantic moans, as he slapped her, jarring her jaw to the point where her semi-dazed mind was certain it was broken. As he slammed that same hand into her bottom left ribs, and the sharp crack pierced through the other sounds with a clarity that surprised them both, echoed with her even sharp scream, she knew her jaw was, for the moment, merely bruised. He laughed at her again, and reached down with both arms, grabbing both her ankles and throwing them until they were near her head, leaving her both open and defenseless to repeated assults, of all kinds.[/font][/color][/I]

[font=gothic][color=indigo][I]Conscious all through the ocean voyage, but not willing to show it yet, Vyrim dropped his body into a lower state of existance, relieving his need for food, water and even oxygen. The ones who kept vigil over him was obviously familiar with the technique, enough so that they didn't disturb him, but not familiar enough to know he would still be conscious through it, for they talked far too freely. The idea that they didn't care did spring to mind, but he dismissed it. Either way, he had a rather crushing advantage over them. As the ship slowed, the lines slackening off and the boom of the sails transforming into the snake slick slither of them being furled up, and sharp, sudden blow struck the side of his head, and at last he was truly unconscious. When he awoke, he was chained hand and foot to the wall, a foot above the floor. He immediately tested the chains, and found he had two inches slack either way. Enough, but he'd leave it for now. The room around him was surprising, as prisons went. The floor was smooth, and the walls were, asiding the area he hung, not hard stone. If anything, the place looked more like an arena than anything else. His eyes narrowed in that suspicion, and someone chuckled, a metallic, grating laugh that exuded confidence.[/I] "I see you've seen enough prisons to know a strange one" Vyrim: Oh, quite certainly. I did, after all, spend a week locked up by a tree, you know. "You were a druid. Elementalist, I believe" Vyrim: Indeed. Which should hint to you the folly of this course of action. "Try it" [I]Vyrim looked around, but the room, more than twenty feet either way, was dark enough that he couldn't be seen. A rampant suspicion that either the chains or the room itself had a magic dampening aura, a common practice in fighting schools that wanted to assure honesty. He let his aura bleed into his surroundings, until both the room and the chains could not differentiate between themselves and their captor, as he could not actively discern which held the dampening effect. Either way it was now irrelevant. A touch of electricity to the bonds, and they fell away from the wall, molecular bonds severed en masse. He landed easily, and performed a similar thing to the schackles themselves. The man stepped forward, nodding as if unsurprised. He was swathed in black, his face visible as a pale line. Vyrim retracted his aura into a single pinpoint of existance before any counter attack could be made.[/I] "It normally takes them a few weeks to figure that out" Vyrim: You live long enough, you learn a few things. So, who might you be?" "My name, for what it's worth, is Siodhan. More importantly, I am one of the senior masters here. Your talents interest us. I'm in charge of your training." [I]Vyrim smiled, nodded courteously, and dropped into an easy stance.[/font][/color][/I]

[font=gothic][color=indigo][I]He ached to possess her, to quell her fight and take her for his own. To ravage her body and mind, and leave her a quivering mass, receptive to every move he made, a reception born of pleasure, pain and fear. His thoughts must have shown in his eyes, because her cruel smile intensified, coupled with her motions, and she slapped him, hard. The blow was a surprise, more than painful, but he enjoyed it anyway. Still, there was a principle involved. And when she struck at him again, he caught her wrist and twisted, his other hand grabbing her throat, thumb over one artery, and pulled her down. The hand that held her wrist snaked over her back, effectively holding her arm and body in place, while the hand over her throat numbed resistance. He replaced the hand on her throat with her tongue, careful not to sever the skin and feel the solid pump of blood into the very back of his throat, though it was certainly tempting, and ran his now free hand over her back, pulling her onto him, and at last taking her fully.[/font][/color][/I]

[font=gothic][color=indigo][I]She writhed against him, torturous ecstasy overloading as his fingers and teeth drew blood and screams, before those screams were asphyxiated with harsh grips and a strong tongue. Lifé's hands were caught up in a painful grip, and forced behind her, Ilmiwyrth using a single hand to keep her pinned and more importantly, pliable. Whether she moved not would not be irrelevant soon enough, in a very short while, it would be unavoidable. More than once, his hands came back soaked in blood to the bottom knuckles, love and life fluid a beautiful mix on his slender hands. Far sweeter than the blood he had tasted earlier. Far more potent, more effective at whipping him into a physical and mental frenzy. It was release in so many ways. Her blood flowed from her, leaving behind only pleasure on both sides, though in one case in the form of severe agony. Ilmiwyrth's fingers twisted, elicting yet another scream, before he withdrew them, smiling at her and cleaning them off slightly with his tongue before forcing her to perform the service, then moving his body closer to hers. [/font][/color][/I]

[QUOTE][i]Originally posted by cloricus [/i] [B]Here we go again. My sign up date was 11-21-2001 and yours (raven) is 04-01-2002 now I'm sure you can do the maths, I'm still not sure why you insist on being the second to join anyway? (*Runs away with evil laugh! Too much caffeine to be serious! *Twitches* :devil: *[/B][/QUOTE] [font=gothic][color=indigo]I find it very, very interesting that on a casual view of the sidepanels, both yours and Ravens say Apr 2002.... And that hers is 01, yours is 13 in the profiles. Yes Cloricus, let us all do the maths...[/font][/color]

[font=gothic][color=indigo]Ilmiwyrth: Why don't you give me a reason to agree with that? [I]Ilmiwyrth pulled her against him again, relishing her skin against his. Surely before he'd felt something this good, a sensation that left him tingling like this, as if every nerve was on the edge of rapture without any stimulation other than contact. That was all it took. Her body ignited his mind with a cresting firestorm of passion, and he was ravaging her before he knew his hands and teeth had moved.[/font][/color][/I]

[font=gothic][color=indigo]OOC: Mwaha! At last, some Exile experience! IC: [I]Qyrain stood in front of the small, insignificant appearing cavern, a low ridge of rock snaking out from the ceiling obscuring the view of the sharply descending passage just behind it. You had to duck quite far, but this was one of the more convenient entrances to Exile, simply based on the fact that it wasn't a sheer drop. Qyrain turned to the horse, smiling broadly.[/I] Qyrain: I'm going to love to see you pull this one off. [I]The horse simply splayed itself legs and semi crawled, semi dragged itself under. Qyrain folded his arms and scowled.[/I] Qyrain: By all rights, you shouldn't be able to do that. In fact, that action should have sent your shoulder blades into your internal organs. [I]The horse disagreed rather vehemently, snorting at him yet again, and giving its tail, one of the few parts visible behind the outcrop of rock, a vigorous shake. Qyrain sighed, swore, and looked at the sky, in vaguely that order, and was struck by what was vaguely the last one. He remembered the last time he had walked into Exile. HIs captain, and old campaigner, had ordered them all to turn around and stare at the sky for several minutes. They'd all laughed. A year later, they'd wept in memory. Qyrain repeated the action nevertheless, hoping that this time, he'd be free to leave whenever he wanted, if at all. He turned his back on the light that had never really meant that much to him anyway, not until darkness became overwhelming, and ducked under the rock ledge that obscured his view. The horse promptly stepped on his foot.[/I] Qyrain: I hate you. I'm getting me a lizard. [I]The beast rather disdainfully ignored him. Qyrain decided that he'd find a name for the creature...Probably a very nasty one too. For now though, he had to worry about reorienting himself to live in Exile. He moved down the steeply sloping corridor that lead to Exile proper with incredible caution. Even the horse made no noise, though it didn't manage Qyrain's furtive toe-heel step. If Qyrain wasn't near any major Forts, than chances are all sorts of creatures would be running around. At last, he bridged a turn and was struck, as he was the first time. by the sheer strangeness of Exile. The immense cavern, leagues across and more than a mile high in places. The rocks appeared a soft blue, lit by phosphorant mushrooms that existed in huge clumps on walls, floors and even hung from the roof. Several hardy varieties even found purchase on the gigantic stalactites that stabbed downwards from the roof, some reaching several hundred metres long. Qyrain shuddered at the memory of a Vahnati Crystal Shaper dropping one of those giant ones on the walls of some long forgotten Fort in the middle of nowhere. The walls had been almost completely torn down, by nothing more than a small fireball in the right part. The two hundred metre long sword of stone had snapped off and fell more than twice that distance before hitting the wall of the fort. The shock of impact alone knocked people from the wall. The actual damage was staggering. A score of his comrades had died, and the walls had been irreparably breached. The Vahnati warriors had streamed in, cruel waveblades, like the one he now carried, aloft... Qyrain tore himself away from that memory. He wasn't here to fight. Not anymore. He took the first, ginger, step forward, the horse a strangely comforting presence at his shoulder. At last, he stepped away from the cavern mouth and into the true wilderness of Exile. A small road, as good as they got in Exile, wound around in front of him. A signpost showed that Meros, Exile's capital city, or former capital city, was merely two miles south of here. He looked at the horse, shrugged, and started off, as alert and ill-at-ease as he never was on the surface, constantly assured that in the next second, one of the subterranean terrors would attack him.[/font][/color][/I]

[font=gothic][color=indigo][I]He smiled back, not particularly concerned, and licked the bloody off her fingers, obviously savouring it.[/I] Ilmiwyrth: Not the first time I've been infecting with lycanthropy. Last time it was the wemics though. It doesn't seem to carry on after I die and reform my body though, so I haven't had to worry about it being permanent. [I]He left off the anecdotes and moved his head down to her neck, not breaking the skin, but making sure she felt it. His hand dropped onto her lower back, pulling her towards him, while his other hand crossed to her throat, holding her in place while his tongue traced around his fingers, stark contrast to his harsh grip.[/font][/color][/I]

[font=gothic][color=indigo]OOC: You're behind on the times I'm afraid... Lacroix doesn't use blades very much any more. IC: [I]The Nightogre fell, Lacroix opening a blindingly fast X in its throat with his twin kamas. It gave a gurgle and fell, Jaida scrambling away from it. Lacroix rather apathetically turned to one of the other, lesser ogres, sheathing his kamas. The thing glared at him with feverish malice. The ogre snarled, and swung a clumsy blow, with some kind of heavy club. Lacroix folded his arms, and took a single step sideways, and flicked his right leg up. Inner crescent, striking the beast's face. From there, an outer crescent, again hitting the ogre's head. Lacroix continued with that motion, a full rotation that lead into a right leg spinning heel kick to the temple. It would have cracked any other beast's skull. As it stumbled back, Lacroix returned his right foot to the ground, and sent a stabbing front kick into the ogre's solar plexus, which was guarded only by crude leather, with his left leg. As he dropped that leg, he brought his right up in a sharp side kick. Rather than reface his opponent, he continued to spin, lifting his left leg, and leaping off his right in a spinning, jumping inner crescent. With a sharp crack, the ogre's neck broke. Lacroix landed easily, and unfolded his arms.[/I] Lacroix: Is it my mistake, or do these things just get easier? [I]He dropped into an easy cat stance, but strangely enough, wasn't approached.[/font][/color][/I]

[font=gothic][color=indigo]Someone is so gonna feel some wrath if this keeps up....Probably Raiha. Thread closed, for the second time.[/font][/color]

[font=gothic][color=indigo]When you want to start an rpg, it's normal to start a thread in the Recruitment Arena outlining what the storyline is about, and telling people what they need to sign up. That way people know you're intending to start an rpg, and don't mistake this for an already established rpg. So, just write a post in the recruitment arena with the storyline, and a list of the stats you want people to list, then get started here.[/font][/color]

[QUOTE][i]Originally posted by Daermon_Nashabe [/i] [B]i can give descriptions of weapons Small swords: Short swords, daggers and Throwing daggers. Large Swords: Long Swords, Schimitars,Katanas and Broad swords. Great Swords: Two handed swords and Bastard swords. Bows: Short bows and long bows also composite versions of bows. Polearms: Halberd, Pike, spears, Hoopaks, Naginantas and staffs. Axes: Two handed, Battle Axes and Throwing Axes. Bludgeoning: Clubs, Flails, Morning stars and Mace. Crossbows: Light and Heavy crossbows. Missle Weapons: Slings. thats all i remember [/B][/QUOTE] [font=gothic][color=indigo]You were basing that on what now? Here's a far more convenient version. And a more complete list... Slashing: Short sword, long sword, broad sword, katana, great sword, bastard sword, flamberge, hand axe, battle axe, great axe, lochaber, scimitar, sickle, kama, ataghan, shang gao, kukri, double sided sword, doubled sided axe, twin viper, sempatsu, kasurigama, natagama, wakazashi, nagitana. Piercing: Dagger, rapier, spear (Polearms are always piercing/slashing damage, that's how their grouped), pike, kris, althame, shogee . Piercing/slashing (Polearms): Halberd, naginata, kwon dao, scythe. Bludgeoning: Club, mace, light hammer, war hammer, light flail, heavy flail, morning star, nunchuka, escrima (three, five or seven piece), staves of whatever sort, lucerne hammer, dire mace, manriki chains, tonfas. Missile weapons: Throwing daggers, throwing axes, darts, shurikens, razor disks, rante (special case, doesn't require ammunition/limited range and use). Projectile launchers, with ammunition: Longbows/short bow/composite bow/horse bow/compound bow - arrows or whatever length. Crossbow-light/heavy/pistol - quarrels or in the case of pistols, occasionally darts. Slings- slingshot or stones. By the way oekakiotaku, Krishna was never actually a god. He was an avatar of Vishnu, sent against Brahma's wishes, and what not. From memory, anyway. I know there was a lot more to it. For a more complete list of weapons, or for explanation of the above, PM me.[/font][/color]

[font=gothic][color=indigo]Raiha...Don't play mod. And you, power? Ha. But anyway, creating multiple threads is not only against the rules, it also defeats the purpose, because things like the thread getting closed tends to happen. Well...what do you know. Just let people reply to the other one.[/font][/color]

[QUOTE][i]Originally posted by Lady Macaiodh [/i] [B][color=darkblue][size=1] My dad is obsessed with the guitar, which at most times is cool. I mean, he taught me how to play. But it gets annoying, because he will literally walk through the house, with the guitar strapped to his body, and sing Christian songs at the [i]top[/i] of his lungs. I mean, as loud as he can. [/color][/size] [/B][/QUOTE] [font=gothic][color=indigo]I can't remember my father ever doing that, but we do have 14 guitars lying around, and 11 keyboards...And something like 5 harmonicas! I could deal with the rest of it, but really. 5? What do you even need one for? Two mixing desks, several strange looking machines that are probably synthesiser related and a host of amps and speakers complete it. My Dad's mainly guitar obsessed, by hell, there should be limits to everything else. I swear he's put more money into music gear than he did into my eduction. Kind of sad that... Oh, and he also keeps telling me to write "The Owls are not what they seem", when I'm on OB. But I have no idea what the means, if anything. I think my mother did some strange things, but I can't remember. [EDIT]Okay...that's a quote from Twin Peaks. Now I'm just annoyed. Why the hell does he torment me with a Twin Peaks quote![/font][/color]

[color=indigo][font=gothic]The Hills Hoist thing is a strange joke between Raven and I... I also believe Kendall (from year 10) signed up with a few of his idiot friends, though I'm quite certain they got banned, and I believe someone else from year 11 showed up, Lydia I think. Can't remember.[/font][/color]

[color=indigo][font=gothic]OOC: Yeah, I can never breathe much out of mine either. Which makes excerise difficult... Technically, you should be either making noises loud enough that breathy is impossible, or quiet enough that it's not relevant... IC: [I]Ilmiwyrth smiled at her, and drew her head to his neck. His mouth brushed her ear, his words brushed her mind.[/I] Ilmiwyrth: Go ahead. [I]She brushed the soft skin of his neck a moment, before digging her fangs in deeper. He shuddered in her arms, but she could tell it was rapture, not pain. He could feel her mouth in incredible detail, moulding itself to his skin, even as he felt his own blood flow. He'd had quite a long affair with a vampyre a few centuries back...that was nothing compared to this. Every sensation increased manyfold until he could almost feel the rough parts of her teeth catch on his skin as he shivered.[/font][/color][/I]

[font=gothic][color=indigo]Sigh. As always, I must again remind people that posts of less than, say, seven or so lines are considered spam in the adventure arena. Please don't force me to close this thread.[/font][/color]

[color=indigo][font=gothic]OOC: A couple of times actually. And out of my nose once...but that was kind of weird. IC: Ilmiwyrth: You know it's not a problem. Lifé: And that's even worse. [I]His hand firmed its hold over her lower back, though he didn't angle his nails out of his flesh. He drew her closer to him, and closed his mouth over hers this time. Softer, and with a lot more aquiesence on both sides, but far more insistantly. His other hand came up and ran softly down her face, down her neck, where it paused and softly massaged the front of her throat. She shivered slightly, and he allowed himself a short laugh between spent breaths.[/font][/color][/I]

[color=indigo][font=gothic]Originalimp, considering your PM mentioned that you read the rules, you should certainly know better than to double post. My advice is that your situation is not enviable. I wouldn't push it, in any way. And a level of coherence would, I'm sure, be appreciated by everyone else in this rpg.[/font][/color]

[font=gothic][color=indigo]Ilmiwyrth: I was going to say you need more practice, but I'll concede the point. Lifé: I need more practice? [I]Ilmiwyrth winked, and determinedly grabbed her. She resisted of course, but it seemed a little feigned to Ilmiwyrth's overly suspicious mind. He caught her jaw with one hand, forcing it open. He forced his tongue inside her mouth, his fingers stopping her from clamping her jaws shut, and absently ran his tongue lightly over the top of her mouth. In under a second, she was howling. (OOC: If you've never had it done to you by someone else, you just won't understand. But trust me...it's horrible.) He backed away, smiling broadly at her again.[/I] IlmiwyrthL: That's far more satsifying, I must say.[/font][/color]

[font=gothic][color=indigo][i]Ilmiwyrth gave her a smile that was almost bursting with delight. And she had no idea why. Actually, he probably didn't either. Other than the fact that it was seemingly the perfectly calculated method of annoying her... She snarled at him again, his blithe grin didn't falter. She started to stalk away from him, when she felt his hand on her shoulder. She spun, truly angry now. His expression, however, was pure seriousness. She faltered a minute, and he took the opportunity to smile, his grin verging on completely insane.[/I] Ilmiwyrth: The owls are not what they seem... [I]She broke free and spun away, followed by a burst of uncontrollable laughter.[/font][/color][/I]

[color=indigo][font=gothic][I]Quin gave the corpses a professional survey, recreating the combat in his mind. Quite well done, if a little indirect. Quin had no problem with indirect, but simply evicerating them would have been easier. His opinion normally didn't manifest very well though...Mainly because he never gave it. The carts motion was monotonously annoying, but Quin put up with it simply on the grounds that it was probably annoying to everyone else as well, and annoyed people talked less. The woods around him were nearly as bad, their strangely unknowable depths absorbing sound like a sponge absorbed water. Quin could almost feel the quiet conversation around him bleed away into oblivion. Perhaps he'd end up living in a place like this...all things considered. Except the propensity for rifts. That could pose something of a problem. It occured to Quin at that point that planning to live here was more than slightly futile....[/font][/color][/I]

[color=indigo][font=gothic]lol.....That's a lot better, but I've got two points to make....One, that's not me, I'm male for one thing...and two, I'm not involved in this rpg, please don't write me into it.[/font][/color]

[color=indigo][font=gothic]You obviously aren't getting the point. Posts that are under say, ten lines are considered spam. Two lines posts are certainly spam. Spam gets threads closed. So don't do it. Put some effort in, and write something decent, descriptive. I recommend you read a few rpgs started by long-standing members to get the idea of what I mean. And I am [I]certainly[/I] not getting involved with this.[/font][/color]