The Harlequin

[font=gothic][color=crimson]Name: Arithon s'Ffalen Type (Bard or Other): Bard Age: 27 Instrument/Weapon (depends on which type): Lyranthe (I'll explain later) BIO: Is somewhat of a loner, and the only places he really plays are remote taverns, normally in mountainous regions. Why he sticks to the mountains is probably a reason related to climate rather than any strange quest of his though. He plays a lyranthe simply because the alternatives bore him.[/font][/color]

[font=gothic][color=crimson]Raeven: When he...Fionohr...did it, it hurt. Vyrim: That, my love, is because he had no idea what he was doing. [I]Not strictly true, but something Raeven could understand. To her, incompetence was bad, thus pain. Vyrim though, had three days to dispell that misconception. and quite a few others that were probably back in force. He'd been too merciful to the bastard... He suddenly realised Raeven was holding her breath, as if waiting for something. Without really thinking, he simply drew her to him, holding her firmly, but not tightly, in his arms. She shook a few times, but quietened as he merely stroked her hair. His next action wasn't exactly moral, but it was done through expedience. He gently cooled the air around them, causing Raeven to shiver. Without thinking, she drew up against him anymore, and he drew up a blanket over them. He slowly warmed her up, and kept lightly stroking her hair, everynow and then moving down to stroke her neck or the side of her face. When at last she was warm again, she moved slightly. For a moment he thought his effort was wasted, and she still didn't trust him, but she was merely shifting her position slightly. Her arms went around him, and he could feel her smile as he fingers traced the skin of her cheek. He lightly kissed her forehead, elicting a small moan of contentment. Then one of his hands slid down to her back, and slowly starting massaging her spine. Within minutes, she was asleep. Vyrim put a dwoemer of heat in the blankets and bed roll, and in his fingers, and followed her into somnolence.[/font][/color][/I]

[font=gothic][color=crimson][I]Ciiahn was increasingly certain that these humans should never have ever been able to do anything with their existance. Considering the fairly run down inn he was staying in, he wouldn't be surprised if they hadn't. For a former demonoid creature with a nasty reputation, having people look down their noses at him was grating on his nerves. His complete lack of ability to find someone interesting to talk to, Ancient Force or otherwise, was another limiting factor. Another morning, another pain in the *** round of sunlight. Slowly get up...avoid looking at the windows...living most of one's life in darkness then this was a rather...interesting experience. Sure, it was alright when he was doing something, but something in this chemical morass that was a human brain didn't take well to his old introversion. It was settling down now though, he suspected he'd be the same old social non-entity he'd always been. There was something to be said for letting one's sense of humour get the better of one when one could barely move. Ciiahn wasn't sure what it was though. And he wasn't sure what he drank last night. But it was a lot. He finally found the door and stumbled out. Ending up in the bar itself, there was a suddenly a resounding cheer, and someone was engrossed in injuring his back. Actually, multiple people were.[/I] "You get enough into you?" "Hell, you're doing alright walking after that!" "Damn! I'm surprised your remotely human given that display last night" [I]Ciiahn's response was a low mutter.[/I] Ciiahn: I'm not. [I]There was a hoot of laughter, then cold. A lot of cold. And wetness. Damn the idiot with the bucket of water. Ciiahn looked around in painful clarity. He felt like hell. And he was being given hell. And this world was hell. But hey, last night had been..interesting.[/I] Ciiahn: Anyone got a drink? [I]There was a stunned, appreciative, silence.[/font][/color][/I]

[font=gothic][color=crimson]Name: Khalith de Csejthe Age: 23 Sex: male Description: Khalith is about six foot one, and very slender. His skin is predominately dead white, legacy of his dislike of sunlight. His hair is raven black, and falls just past his shoulders, normally worn free. He tends to grey his face, and blacken his lips and eye hollows. With make up like this of course, he could only dress in long black clothing. Black cotton jeans, and a black long sleeved shirt that is laced at the front (that's what the pic is showing, ignore the rest of the person in it as that's not what he actually looks like, sorry KOTR). Doesn't affect a trenchcoat or any other such inhibiting absurdity. Wears black combat boots, the only real link he has to his past. That, and his physique. Despite his almost abnormal slenderness and low bodyweight, he's basically muscled like an alley cat, and in certain situations he's reacted in ways that really, really surprise him. Normally exotic violent ways... Bio: Well, Khalith, formerly Yuri Beshalov, was indeed a volunteer, and in fact a pioneer, for the treatment. Unfortuantely for him, and apparently even more unfortunately for the project, he was a failure, like all the early attempts. Khalith however had one advantage, he didn't die horribly. That is an advantage isn't it? Anyway, Khalith instead merely lost his memory, complete amnesia. The people running the project, his old bosses, weren't really concerned with that, what was annoying them was that when Khalith's memory decided to run off, crawl into a hole, pull the dirt over itself and die, it took the data on the chip with it. No one could work out why, so they kept him locked up and studied him for a year or so. Eventually, they realised they had found slightly less than nothing. Slightly less than, because when they showed up one day, they didn't find Khalith. They did find a few dead, somewhat surprised looking people though. Since then, Khalith, atypically completely unconcered with his old life and probable personality, has reconstructed an existence for himself, one based on what he wants to do, whenever the hell he wants to do it, regardless of whoever else doesn't want him to do it. One of his favourite mottos is "I am a firm believer in my right to do anything I cannot be stopped from doing". Ability: Seven, Heighten Senses.[/font][/color]

[font=gothic][color=crimson]Vyrim: I don't think so. I have enough provisions for three days for both of us. You think that will be enough time? Raeven: Certainly. Why? Vyrim: You'll see. [I]Vyrim turned, and stood up, stretching slightly to touch the roof. He dusted his fingers across the black stone, lingering slightly where he found imperfections. At last satisfied he knew the character of the rock, he closed his eyes and held out his hand. With a soft, almost liquid bubbling, sound the rock in front of him rose up, forming an impenetrable black wall of stone. There was a single hole, in one bottom corner about three inches from the ground, and only about two inches square. The hole was too low and small to emit any light, but was visible as a grey patch against the pitch darkness.[/I] Vyrim: Close your eyes. [I]Raeven did so, and felt a flare through them. When she cautiously opened them, Vyrim was holding up a hand, fingers splayed, a fireball dancing off each tip.[/I] Vyrim: We have three days to fill my love. First, to make you comfortable. [I]He reached into his pack and pulled out what appeared to be a piece of black material. He placed his hand over it, and it suddenly inflated. He took his hand away, and it stayed like that.[/I] Vyrim: That's why I'm an elementalist. So much more practical. We have three days to fill my love... [I]He lay down, and put out the light.[/font][/color][/I]

[font=gothic][color=crimson]Alastuin: What! Why are they there! Ciiahn: Because I told them that I was holding you hostage and threatening to kill you. I don't think any of them saw the irony though. Alastuin: What! Ciiahn: You said that already. As I said though, I give it a good hour before they attempt to break that solid looking door down. Those rather interesting modern weapons of their may prove a problem, but I somehow doubt it. [I]Alastuin closed her eyes and took a few deep breaths. Ciiahn looked at her clinically. He'd seen harder transitions. A sound behind him, and he spun. The police had coem in quicker than he'd expected. From his side on vantage to the door, it was an easy matter to step his left foot up, behind the right, and side kick the door as it came in, knocking the door, and complimentary police officers, quite a ways into the yard. Ciiahn dropped his right foot, sprang forward off it, and twisted antclockwise, his left foot coming out in a stabbing back kick. Landing easily, he looked around. Three men down, no fatalities. Yet. He absently dragged the bodies in by the ankles, wincing as their heads hit the steps. Ah well. He dumped the inert forms on the bed next to Alastuin.[/I] Ciiahn: There my dear. See how easy that was.[/font][/color]

[font=gothic][color=crimson]Vyrim: Allow long, heated strands of barb wire to placed down their throats and be yanked out? Raeven: Will we let them speak first? Vyrim: Elsewhere then. [I]Raeven looked at him a moment, not too sure about the feral gleam in his eyes. He absently stroked her face, the gleam dying slowly. Suddenly, he swept her up, holding her tight against him, burying his face in her shoulder. He shook slightly, for a second Raeven wasn't certain what was going on.[/I] Vyrim: I thought...for a moment there...that I'd lost you. [I]Slightly wary, Raeven held him against her, at last relaxing her body against his, as his arms tightened around her. At last, he released her and sat back, a slightly sheepish look on his face.[/I] Vyrim: We need to get off this mountain somehow. How long until you feel up to moving?[/font][/color]

[font=gothic][color=crimson]Name: Ilmiwryth de Ralquire Race: Vampyre Weapons: Twin hand axes, mainly martial arts. Alignment:The Order of Demos[/font][/color]

[font=gothic][color=crimson][I]Raeven was unconscious. He needed shelter, somewhat desperately. Going back down the mountain and then through the forest would be impossible. He needed something closer. It took him nearly a quarter of an hour, but at last he found a small cave, currently unoccupied, but certainly showing signs of being recently inhabited. Bones and such littered the floor. The cave was only about eight feet high, which made it somewhat safer. He layed her down, and she stirred slightly. She looked up at him, tears rinsing her eyes.[/I] Raeven: I'm....I'm sorry. [I]Vyrim just stared at her in astonishment.[/I] Raeven: I swear...I didn't let him, I didn't run away, I'm yours...I swear. [I]Vyrim, suddenly understanding, laughed softly.[/I] Vyrim: You, my love, are your own person. You know that. [I]He leant down, and kissed her forehead softly. His head came back up, and he smiled at her, letting her know how he really felt.[/font][/color][/I]

[font=gothic][color=crimson]Mortal Name: Khalith Age: 21 Appearance: Check the picture. Bio/History: Well, he hasn't really done that much with his life, mainly because the last five years of his life haven't really been his. Khalith, you see, is some what more intune with the ...esoteric side of the arcane than most mortals anyway. Basically, he's been "investigating" things like fallen angels for a while now, and he ran into certain problems. Mainly the Church. He's had a few altercations, and interestingly enough, the Church actually knew what to do about it. He broke out of the cell they threw him in quite recently. He's not quite sure how he pulled it off, it's a bit of a blur, probably all that boring praying...[/font][/color]

[QUOTE][i]Originally posted by James [/i] [B][color=#808080]I'm a mixture of Ether and Water. I'd say that I'm probably closer to Ether. But yeah, I guess I have every element as part of my personality in some way. Afterall, we can [i]all[/i] be fire at some points in our life...we can all go through these elements, I think.[/color] [/B][/QUOTE] [font=gothic][color=crimson]Except air. If anyone ever calls me ditzy I'll stab them in the eyes with the blunt end of a fork. If anyone describes me as sweet I'll tell them to talk to Raven...[/font][/color]

[font=gothic][color=crimson]A mixture of ether and earth. I do tend to stay away from people, I tend to confuse anyone I can, but I'm more than willing to simply lay back and not do anything, and let other people make the decisions. Unless I don't like them...Then it gets burny and screamy...[/font][/color]

[font=gothic][color=crimson][I]Ciiahn settled backwards, one hand outstretched, in line with his arm. The other was palm upwards, guarding his solar plexus. He found it quite amusing that the first place he ended up was in an arena. The man in front of him, bald, sneering, and muscled like an alley cat, simply raised his hands. He looked like a boxer. Ciiahn breathed in, holding it slightly, then letting it go in a silken whisper. Someone gave some kind of signal, Ciiahn wasn't paying attention, merely grinning like a maniac. The other man responded, a feral twist of his mouth. With that he stepped forward, a simple right hook. Ciiahn leant backwards, letting it pass harmlessly in front of him. His left hand, the extended one, jerked forward an inch then retreated. The man flinched anyway, used to more frontal hits. Ciiahn's left hand came back to his hip, his right came upwards, his fingers stiffened. He struck the sensitive area under the man's jaw, triggering the involuntary gag reflex. His left elbow came back in, a strike to the windpipe. His right hand came back, then upwards again in un uppercut, then rechambered and unfolded into a backhand. He spun to his left, that hand coming around in a spinning backfist. As he completed the spin, his right hand shot forward in a knifehand thrust to the solar plexus. As the man stumbled back, gasping and trying to grab multiple painful parts of his body once, Ciiahn leapt forward, spinning his body right in the air. As he passed, a right sidekick followed by a left backkick left the man on his back. Actually, Ciiahn had a little trouble landing too. But that wasn't so bad. He managed to get up. The boxer didn't. The judge came forward, grabbing Ciiahn's hand and raising it. Ciiahn looked at him for a long moment, and the judge let him go.[/I] Ciiahn: When do I get paid? [I]There was a long, uncomfortable silence.[/I] Ciiahn: Ah. I see. [I]He walked out of the arena, now slightly bored. But then, what exactly did he really need money for?[/font][/color][/I]

[font=gothic][color=crimson][I]I would suppose that they keep me company. I suppose I had it coming, after spending my somewhat less than physically directed life digging myself into a hole filled with vampyres and the undead. I suppose that I should know what to do, considering in all the new age zombie movies they were just people who had lost their minds in same strange way. But for god's sake, when in hell did it mention the boots? I mean, really. They can wander around murmering something about brains, or tap incessantly on the door if they want, but for christ's sake, could they do something about their feet? Just because everybody in this place had to wear heavy soled boots didn't mean they had to drag their feet around! They were starting to sound like some kind of amateur tap dance act, and I've never really been one to suffer incompetence, even in something I have no real knowledge about. Oh, it was tempting to simply go out there and make them go away. But it would also be messy, and that would just attract more of them. And let's face it, it's not like they were keeping me awake. ...When was the last time I slept anyway? Eh. Who cares.[/I][/font][/color]

[font=gothic][color=crimson][I]Vyrim heard the scream from nearly a hundred metres away, and was far less than happy. He recognised the voice, distorted as it was. He redoubled his pace, discarding his handaxes, pulling his quarterstaff off his back. There was a messed up creature somewhere that was really in for it. When he found out the creature was human, he stopped in amazement. For about half an instant. Then rage overwhelmed him, he rushed forward, dropping his weapon and grabbing the bastard, who ever he was, by the back of the neck, one handed, and throwing him against a rock. The depth of the anger in him surprised him, in that small rational corner of his mind that simply watched, like this was some kind of visual book. The man stumbled forward, fists swinging. Vyrim simply caught the man's right arm with his left, pulling him inwards and slamming his right elbow into the man's neck. From there, he grabbed his head, and brought it down onto his rising knee, leaving his nose an interesting shade of broken. He dragged the man upright again,slamming the heel of his palm into his collarbone. As he stumbled several feet back, he seemed to gather himself, and lunged forward again, catching Vyrim's ribs with a snap kick. Vyrim walked right through it. His right hand came upwards, fingers stiffened, into the sensitive area under the man's jaw, triggering a gag reflex. As the man's mouth opened and his eye's bulged, Vyrim slammed his head forward, staggering him. Several left hooks later, the man slumped against a boulder, and Vyrim drove his right hand into the man's stomach. He stiffened his finger again, and drove his nails into one of the man's eyes. As he screamed, Vyrim relieved him of several teeth. Again, he stabbed upwards, knocking the remaining roots high up into the man's mouth. He screamed again, and Vyrim uppercutted him, allowing his own jaw to sever his tongue. The man basically lay slumped against the boulder, sickly gurgling moans emanating from him. Vyrim took a step backwards, then lunged forward, stabbing knifehand into the man's solarplexus. It penetrated, and Vyrim casually ran his fingernails over the man's spinal cord. The envoked a response. The man's remaining eye bulged, and he somehow articulated a rattling scream. Vyrim's hand shot upwards, grabbing the man's heart. He felt it beat, stuttered, a few times, then tensed his fist and yanked it out, stuffing it down the man's mouth.[/I] Vyrim: Blood loss of suffocation, it's your choice. [I]He flicked some of the blood off and turned to Raeven, his manner changing dramatically. He cupped her head in his hands, stroking her face softly, a tear running down his cheek. He picked her up, she smiled weakly at him. Tearing off a strip of his tunic, he bandaged some of her wounds, hoping he'd be able to stem the now trickling blood flow. As he carried her away, he caught a glimpse of the man's face. It would have been purple, but there was no blood in it, so it was merely withered, drawn, stretched taut over bones. And set in an expression of quintessential agony.[/font][/color][/I]

[font=gothic][color=crimson][I]Ciiahn blinked a few times, before acquiescing with a nod. He walked in, taking in the strange, to him, world easily, processing it for analysation, perfectly logical and blase about the whole thing. Strange for a creature who hadn't had any contact with the world for centuries. He would be an interesting history lesson though... Alastuin, uncomfortable with his absorbed silence, at last jolted him out of his reverie.[/I] Alastuin: Would you at last bring the semblance of normalcy into this and sit down? [I]Ciiahn cast around for a moment then found a couch, sitting on it easily, folding one leg up, that foot on his other knee.[/I] Ciiahn: Well? What happens now in your terms? [I]Alastuin sat down beside him, a tired look on her face.[/I] Alastuin: We talk for a while, you pretend to be charming and witty, you yawn and stretch, accidently placing your arm over my shoulder. I smile and pretend not to notice and move slightly closer. You suddenly remark that you like my hair, I giggle and thank you, you make another remark, then you suddenly move to kiss me, I act surprised, you pull back, I tell you it's alright, you kiss me, five minutes later we end up in bed, ten minutes after that you're asleep. Ciiahn: I see. Where do we start? [I]Alastuin just looked at him. Ciiahn smiled, and she realised the remark had been simply out of an understated sense of humour. Witty and charming.... Then he skipped the next few steps, and leaned in to kiss her. Surprised, she didn't react in time, and within a second, he had his mouth to her neck, rather than her face. Suddenly realised, she struggled, but didn't have the slightest chance. He pulled away for just enough of a moment to whisper sotto voce in her ear.[/I] Ciiahn: Don't worry. You'll be a very strong creature my dear.[/font][/color]

[font=gothic][color=crimson][I]I ended up returning "home" somewhat early, shockingly early in fact, for a night out...well, you couldn't call it drinking. Or anything else really. And I'm not really sure that aimless wandering around has some kind acceptable cut off point. Hell, I was out later in the Matrix than out of it. Not something to be proud of really... Still, at least this place was good morbid, not the bad, annoying, wasted world morbid outside. It did leave a lot to be desired, but hell, when was the last time I did find something that didn't? I'm allowed to be a perfectionist bastard, don't try and deny it. Of course, this is balance by the fact that I don't actually know who I'm talking to. I've been walking around alone for months! Who the hell else would I talk to accept myself! At least I don't argue so much. The small, probably former bunker wasn't really something to look at. Or live in...but hey, I can't remember the last time the housing commitee, or perhaps the more appropriate health committee, showed up. I'll live. And so will they. Just in very different worlds. But then, I always lived in a different world to everyone else. If everyone else really lives in their mind, and those minds link into some communal "living area" I suppose you could call it, then we are really living in our own little world. But the mind is limitless, so it's not really small at all. I would suppose that only the reason I haven't gone insane is because I've always been like this, spinning off on a tangent, perforce character. Hell, who cares. I don't, and right now, and probably forever, or relative forever, considering that once I'm out of the picture forever is relatively irrelevent, I'm the only one around, so it doesn't matter. Never has before...even inside.[/font][/color][/I]

[font=gothic][color=crimson][I]This was getting nasty. Whatever the hell the bastard was. Vyrim wasn't sure. Lizardish. Bipedal. Who cares. Twin left jabs, right punch that twisted into a backhand, left hook, spinning right back kick. Whatever the bastard was, it fell over well enough. Of course, he still held his axes, which helped. And the thing bled, though it was a glowing kind of green he decided not to touch. There were swarms of these things, the smalles creatures up this place he supposed. They survived because they worked together and whatnot, and when they were separated, they died. Vyrim was not blind to the comparisons. He had other problems right now though. The creature's big, very loosely related cousin had dropped by. Literally. He'd been getting his breath back when all of a sudden the ground became very attracted to his back, and decided a closer acquaintance would be fun. The thing that had landed beside him, and thus jolted him, seemed pretty confused, wondering where he'd gone. Vyrim intended to take advantage of that. He rolled away and to his feet, flicking the green crazily glowing blood off his axes at the creature. It burned on contact, making him somewhat happy he'd decided not to touch it. The creature was about 15 feet tall, and bulky. The head was vaguely reptilian, but the scales seemed more lines traced into moist, sick looking pale skin, blue lines and other things showing through. The eyes were on the side of the head, making the thing constantly turn its head from side to side, birdlike, to look at him. The mouth was large, and hung open, giving Vyrim a view of teeth that seemed more adapted to grinding rocks than biting. The creature was hexapedal, with batlike wings that looked like that would be unable to support its body. The legs were hinged in multiple places, and were quite solid. The tail was thick and stumpy, and seemed like a mutation rather than an appendage. It didn't have large claws, or horns, and those teeth weren't too nasty, so it didn't look all that threatening. It did look solid though, and half a second later, Vyrim found out why its legs were jointed so much. The thing suddenly leapt into the air again, it's wings billowing out. As it fell, and touched the ground, the legs curled right up, and it sprang forward again, directly at the stunned Vyrim. It's legs came up, it's body rotated upwards, and it latched onto him as if it were catching him in some vile embrace. Vyrim didn't have a chance, he figured he was going to be crushed. The wings again billowed out however, slowing its flight, and the lower, or back, pair of legs suddenly hit the ground, the many joints absorbing the shock. Vyrim was held motionless, his head a few inches in front of the suddenly dangerous looking mouth. That would really, really hurt. If it wasn't for the shape of the weapons he held, he would certainly be dead. His axes had a foot long handle, and crescent moon, almost glaive like blades, that attached at the top of the handle, three quarters of the way up the blade, making for a long hook on the underside. Vyrim still had hold of them, and he brought them downwards, slowly digging the blade into the creature's sturdy legs. He had no illusions about cutting them off, but he was running into something that felt like a tendon... The thing suddenly let go, and backed off. It sprang away, disappearing quickly. Vyrim turned around, fairly certain that meant something large and nasty was behind him. To his surprise, he was wrong. Ah well, there was a first for everything...[/font][/color][/I]

[font=gothic][color=crimson]Ciiahn: I haven't yet found out. Alastuin: What? Ciiahn: Basically, you're annoying youngling vampyres have gotten themselves in trouble, and I've decided I'll actually give them a helping hand. Alastuin: I thought we got over pride as we got older. Ciiahn: This isn't pride, merely the balance. Alastuin: Oh? Some ancient cosmic mystic crap? [I]She wasn't convinced. That was alright. Neither was Ciiahn.[/I] Ciiahn: No, saving me later aggravation. No matter which side wins, eventually they'll run into me, and that will be annoying and some what time consuming. Alastuin: Pretty sure of ourselves, aren't we? Ciiahn: Very. [/font][/color]

[font=gothic][color=crimson][I]Whoever was traipising around this place was an idiot. Vyrim could tell that. Even if Raeven was there, she was being an idiot. Vyrim would have thought that after the first time, you'd learn that if one thing came down on you, it was best to kill it quickly and run, not hang around and wait for the fenzy. But judging from several slaughter sites he'd seen so far, whoever was wandering around hadn't worked that out. The idea that they didn't have a choice suddenly occured to him. If they were injured, which was more than likely, they'd have a lot of trouble. But if they were injured, then should be dead several miles back. He'd gone a very long distance, longer than he normally cared to go. And the exact place he didn't want to go. Mount Khalith. A huge outcrop of impervious granite, all hard edges. The weather didn't wear it away, it merely sharpened the peaks, deepened the ravines, made the cliff faces more sheer. An aberration that had spawned this forest, this blight. Vyrim couldn't remember the last time someone had climbed it. Since coming here, he turned away any who tried, after the first decade. They'd all died, many of them vocally. He watched the slope many times, and seen all sorts of strange beings, ones that didn't even appear in the forest below. And they were all quite a lot larger than anything he saw regularly. He'd been up twice, each time less than half a mile. Both times, injuries had turned him back. Both times, he'd been far better prepared than he was now. And better armed too. The denizens of the forest weren't too active though. They'd been momentarily distracted by the killings, and weren't that hungry anymore. Given that free license, Vyrim gave up following the trail and simply made for the mountain, a direct line that took him far less than the roundabout route followed by the unknown idiot.[/font][/color][/I]

[font=gothic][color=crimson][I]It was about midday before Vyrim realised that Raeven probably should have turned up quite a while earlier. In this place, a few hours tended to be slightly fatal. He returned to the hut he had earlier visited, arming himself more extensively this time around. A rante around his right wrist, a quarterstaff on his back, two kamas at his belt, multiple daggers, and a pair of strange looking handaxes in his fists. He quickly checked the easily accessible landings, finding absolutely nothing. There was no sign of Raeven, and no sounds to indicate a frenzy, which would surely still be going on if she had suffered mishaps. He came across his old meditation hut, the place he had often sought refuge in the inital years after he built this thing, still depressed over his fate. He hadn't been there in decades, but the reeds on the floor appeared recently messed up. He immediately spun, bringing to mind the map of this place, long since commited to memory. There was only one passage away from this place he had yet to check, and it was nothing more than a path down. He doubted Raeven would have been stupid enough to get herself stuck down there, but he certainly wasn't going to risk not checking. The pathway ended five metres above the ground, and he took a good look around before dropping. He was eager to find Raeven, but that didn't warrant suicide. What he found surprised him. Several dead creatures, and fairly recent to, judging by the scraps of meat that still existed. No identifying marks as to what killed them unfortunately. The fact that most of the blood coated the ground was pretty evident that whatever had killed them, it had been smaller than them, and had struck upwards rather than slashes which would have sprayed blood onto the trees. There was one long series of flecks though, a spray that covered three trees, a single line. The remains of a blade passing through flesh and continuing. Raeven hadn't done this. The only thing capable of doing something like that would be a heavy greatsword or bastard sword, or perhaps some kind of halberd. And he couldn't possibly imagine Raeven using something like that, not to mention she hadn't retreived one of the few he had. Which meant someone else was wandering around. Chances are, they'd gotten themselves into trouble, and Raeven had been close, and had attempted to lend a hand. Now he had at least two people to rescue, one of them being re-rescued. Axes in hand, he set off, away from the direction most of the blood sprays went.[/font][/color][/I]

[font=gothic][color=crimson][I]Vyrim at last returned the weapon to the rack, and went through another routine, this one purely physical. A half hour and quite a few stretched muscles later, he stopped, breathing easily. He left the dojang styled hut and returned to his current living quarters, not particularly concered with whether Raeven was there or not. He'd deal with the emotional problems that were biting him sometime later. Right now, he was somewhat hungry. This was getting slightly repetitive....[/font][/color][/I]

[QUOTE][i]Originally posted by Ravenstorture [/i] [B][color=darkgreen][font=gothic]Well, you have to practice for a while before you perfect the art. I think we've done that. [b]How To Spot A Professional Kisser (or Ravenstorture and Harlequin's Guide to Perfect Kissing) [/b] [i]This only applies in public - in private, it is entirely up to you and your partner/s.[/i] - kisses are completely silent, no matter how deep they're going - kissers remain dry after event, there is no wiping of mouths on sleeves or licking of lips - they can remain kissing for anything up to and even over an hour, and there ISN'T a circle of people standing around them screaming something about a crowbar - kisses are often short in public, out of consideration for people who consider kissing a thing of married couples - no pawing of the other person's face, and no grabbing of their partner's head to push their faces closer (this is painful most times) - hands and body relaxed - mouth contact is not broken frequently - usually no tounges are observed of either person - mouths only open enough to convey passion, not catch a soccer ball - no sudden or quick movements - if you can hear moaning, they probably don't know they're not alone - professional kissers ALWAYS know who is within range of vision - quick, momentary kisses are recieved without gasping, swooning or anything more than a slight smile - a small kiss will not distract the giver or the reciever, if executed properly - Kisses are placed on hands and face ONLY in public And the most important one... - kissers always think of the people around them first. People have been punched in the face for kissing in public.[/font][/color] [/B][/QUOTE] [font=gothic][color=crimson]I know that doesn't really help with making the first move, but they're still great pointers. As for making the move...just look into her eyes for a good thirty seconds without saying anything and if she has half a brain she'll get the point.[/font][/color]

[font=gothic][color=crimson]Raven: Gods I hate these kinds of things... [I]Elysan said something to one of the trolls, distracting them both. Alastuin turned to Raven inquisitively.[/I[ Alastuin: Why? Raven: Do you know how difficult it is to siphon death from a creature that restores its own life? Alastuin: Well kick it a few times. [I]Raven quite probably intended to.[/font][/color][/I]

[font=gothic][color=crimson][I]For a three thousand odd year old vampyre, getting hit by a car was an annoyance. For the mortal driving the car, apparently it was even more of an annoyance. She got out of the car and started swearing at him. The swearing trailed off into a suprised silence as Ciiahn got up and dusted himself off.[/I] Ciiahn: I don't suppose you'd be partial to offering a ride in this...automobile? [I]Alastuin looked at him in bewilderment, and agreed almost out of confusion. Ciiahn examined the door for a moment, eventually working out that the lever was pulled up. He sat down, unfamiliar but composed.[/font][/color][/I]