The Harlequin

[font=gothic][color=crimson][I]Rali looked at the map again, wondering why whatever magic powered it had decided to be perverse. He took a step backwards, the blue light went forward. He turned around. Took a step backwards. The blue dot went in the same direction it had originally. He sighed, and started walking in what he assumed represented the direction he was meant to go. The blue dot calmly moved away from the red one. He sighed again, and poked at it with a taloned finger. It jumped. Off the paper. It hit the ground, and started moving. Towards him. It touched his skin, and started climbing up his leg. He jumped, and brushed at it. One would think it was futile, but the thing actually fell off. As it hit the ground, he pressed the bit of paper onto it, then cautiously lifted it up and looked at it. The blue dot pulsed calmly. He walked towards the red one. The blue one moved accordingly.[/I] Rali: These people have a strange sense of humour. And they're really going to hear about it.[/font][/color]

[font=gothic][color=crimson]OOC: Bite me baby. I bite back. (I'll edit this into an rp post later.)[/font][/color]

[font=gothic][color=crimson]OOC: This, my lost cathartic friend, is what you can call an entrance.... IC: [I]Yami Kami stood, auric resonance humming around him like glass in a thunder storm. Eager to shatter, to break free, to shower destruction in a nova of daggers. Only this would be an etheric icestorm, a destructive outpouring of testering energy that would lay waste to all it touched. If it didn't lay waste to it, it would corrupt it. If it didn't corrupt it, it would surround it in putridity, until it withered away under its own despair. Such endings suited the dark god well. Moreover, it suited his purpose. Nothing could touch him, but he could send his tendrils into anything he wished. A flit on the edge of his senses. He slowly turned, willing himself to apprehend it. A mortal, running, fleeing from his magnificence. It's pitiful mind, so easy to plunder, thought of returning! It sought aid, as if numbers meant anything to a god. Still, he let the pitiful wretch go, allowing it its futile survival, its desperate plans. He slowly rethreaded his mental output, neural synapses wrenched off their paths into an entirely different wavelength. He shimmered, a scintillating aurora that existed in its own plane, so detached, so uncannily removed from reality, did it seem. It darkened, and disappeared. In its place stood a seven foot tall man, slender as a blade. Long black hair fell to his waist. His eyes swirled in a grey, nimbus like vortex, sluggishly, giving a view of time itself being subject to an outside will, of time itself being fleeting. His face was cold, regal, seemingly attractive, though madness permeated it, a foul miasma that hid beneath the surface in apparent quiesance, though it grew restless. His body was sculpted like a rock, for all its slenderness. It was clad in tightfitting, concealing black. He held two kamas. The handles were a full two feet long, the blades half that, and shaped like curved lightning bolts. The metal was a strange black, the wood of the handles somewhat purplish tinged. He stretched slowly, waiting for his pitiful mortal antagonists to return.[/I][/font][/color]

[font=gothic][color=crimson]Um, LA, Mnemmy kinds of owns your *** here, considering RPW and all...If he wants a gauntlet, we'll give him one. (You know, one of the shiny plastic ones. Keep him occupied.)[/font][/color]

[font=gothic][color=crimson][I]Rali was starting to get mildly annoyed. He would have gotten more so, but he was pretty certain that that was part of the rocks-in-the-sky-that-attacked-with-water's plan. He was in the midst of thinking how absurd that entire idea sounded when he heard a loud croaking sound. Thinking it one of the huge cave dwelling toads that inhabited the Elcrinth Way, he immediately dove to his left, to avoid the long sticky tongue. There was a strange flapping sound, and he wondered what kind of Nighthunter was stupid enough to be head in range of a cave dwelling toad... ...He stood up thirty seconds later. If anyone around had had the slightest clue how to read a Lythanoid's facial expression, they would have seen one indicating a slight sheepishness coupled with a struggle to keep from laughing at one's self... Rali slowly turned around, wondering what, after all, had made the noise. A small black bundle sat on the branch of a large plant about twenty feet away. It cocked its head at him, making that noise again. It lifted rudimentary, from what he could see, wings, and started to fly off. He watched it take to the air for half a second before he realised it was flying directly towards him. His hand shot out and grabbed the bird. Strangely, it did nothing, just held up one foot. A small white tube was attached to its leg. Rali took the tube, and let the bird go. Squawking the indignity, it left immediately. Rali looked curiously at the tube, trying to remember where he had seen it before. Vi Duku's sanctum....Strange black lines and pictures had been scribed on it. It had been called "paper". He slowly ran a talon over the surface, looking for some kind of join. The seal parted easily. He spent a good minute looking at the strange blackj lines before they suddenly twisted into a whirlpool on the page. They seemed to get sucked into the paper. When all where gone, the vortex reversed its direction. As the words spun back out, they were in the pictographs Lythanoid's used to communicate, even in Rali's dialect. Most likely, there was some kind of spell that simply used the reader's language and knowledge to rewrite itself. It spoke of being two cycles away from wherever the message originated. The sigil cycle was used, at least, but out of context. Rali suspected it meant the "day" that was used up here. Two days travel... He read further, finding it to also say that it was imperative he hurry. How in the deepest pits of the Way had they known he was coming? It was starting to seem that looking into this would be worth it. On the other side of the paper was a map. It had two dots pulsating on it, one red, the other blue. They appeared like fire, but the paper was not burned. The red dot had a small inscription beside it, a name of some sort. He took a few paces, the blue dot moved accordingly. That would certainly make it easier.[/font][/color][/I]

[font=gothic][color=crimson]I have no problem with writing my own evil oriented storyline. It might even make sense here and there...[/font][/color]

[font=gothic][color=crimson]If that stuff mentioned in the PM doesn't work, I'll use this. Name: Rali Kreigyr, HidesFromLight Breed: Homid Gender: Male Auspice: New Moon Weapons: Klaive, two kamas Physical description: In Homid: Six foot tall, very slender. Hair is black, falls to shoulders. Eyes are grey naturally, face is grey artificially. Lips and area around eyes are black. Glabro, Crinos, Hispo and Lupus are according to everything else. Bio: Had his First Change at 15. It would have been a bit later, but he was hiking alone, and happened across two Black Spiral Dancers. Rather than undergo the Delirium, which the Dancers probably expected him to do, he went into Crinos. Ten minutes later a pack of Cliaths walked into the small clearing, and promptly stared at him. Then got annoyed, because he'd killed their prey. Everything basically went from there. Tribe: Silent Striders[/font][/color]

[font=gothic][color=crimson][I]Aleksandr sat quietly in his van, wrapped up in his long coat. He stared out the windscreen at the house across the road, not really sure what he was looking for, but quite certain something was a little strange about it. The typical stakeout wasn't helped by lack of fast food. Or the lack of nerdy, high tech, incomprehensible science equipment. Or the fact that Aleksandr had the radio as loud as it would go, or the house's lack of windows and/or activity. But if anything walked into, or out of the house, Aleksandr would probably be paying attention enough to see it.[/font][/color][/I]

[font=gothic][color=crimson]OOC: That's what this rpg needs! Someone getting stabbed in the eyes with a fork. If you'll all excuse me, which I know you will... IC: [I]Rali absently tested his leg, finding it quiet sufficient to walk on. He was quickly out the door again, avoiding inquisitive eyes that would most likely tell him to get the hell back to where he was. They were like that a lot. One hand absently resting on his kama hilt through his shirt, he strode down a street he didn't recognise. Geography, on any level, wasn't his strong point. People around him didn't even look twice. That was the thing about dressing in a semi-normal state...you could actually walk around without getting either a)attacked by a bunch of drunks who thought you looked like a wannabe superhero, and tended to be right, b)Animal rights activists objecting to the trench coat, c)agents, or d) Anyone who had the remotest clue how much of a wackjob you actually were. Strangly enough, all four of those groups were in equal proportions. Rali didn't really get that bit of it, but that wasn't what he was getting paid to do. Not that he was getting paid, but that's different. He stopped into a cafe, one of those dark, quiet seeming from the outside but noisy inside places that the intelligentsia seem to flock to. Beakniks and what not. You know the type. He sat himself down in a corner, smiling blankly at anyone who looked at him. As usual, someone turned up with a chess set, offering a game.[/I] Rali: You want me to bite what now? Man: Nothing... I just asked if you wanted to play... Rali: What are we playing? Cheese racing? Man: I'm not sure....what you're talking about... Rali: You know...with the cheese, running around the track...with all the fans screaming...and cheering...and the you know? Man: You're...not a usual here....are you? Rali: At the cheese track? Certainly. Here, what are you implying? Man: Nothing...nothing...what is your problem? [I]Rali leapt over the table, grabbing him, and going "Bwahahahahaha" is his face. When he let him go, the man stumbled away, a look of utmost confusion on his face. One of the other men, a clean shaved man with a goatee, Scottish appearing, quite large, stood up, placing hands on Rali's shoulders placatingly.[/I] Man: I don't really think that is neccessary. Rali: Whatever lights your fire... [I]Rali smiled, teeth showing. He opened his mouth slightly, and ran his tongue over his teeth. The man looked scared for a moment, then grabbed Rali a little more forcibly, and dragged him out. Rali let him, bubbling something about the furry cheese taking over the race. He suddenly, stiffened in the man's arms, and started shaking crazily. The man sighed, and bodily threw him. Rali hit a table, knocking coffee, plates, cutlery, chess pieces and bad poetry everywhere. One of the pieces of cutlerly, a fork, to be precise, flew through the air, taking the man who had thrown Rali out in the eye. The blunt end, so it was actually a comic situation. Rali, rolling around in coffee laughing to the point where his sides hurt, wasn't doing much more for either's dignity.[/font][/color][/I]

[font=gothic][color=crimson]Hmmm. I'll take the assassin. I always have before, anyway. That is if the assassin is working on his own. If he's just some dodgy hired pawn, I'll just be a random evil doer. By the way, I'm assuming this has been run on a DnD style basis? Name: Rali Kreigyr Age: 23 Class: Monk (Order of the Long Death) Race: Human Alignment: Lawful Evil Proficiencies: Just the "Monk" weapon proficiency. Doesn't wear armour after all. Weapons of choice: Either twin kamas or ye olde hand to hand (Gauntlets of the Long Death). Bio: Not really much to it. Grew up on the streets of Luskan, not a great place for any child. Fell in with the High Captains as a soldier, after attempting to pick a captain's (not one of the High Captains, one of the soldier's officers) pockets, was caught, and a chase ensued. The man attacked Rali with a long dagger, Rali responded by knocking it out of his hand. The man stepped back, impressed, and offered Rali a position. Then proceeded to kick the hell out of him every day for a few years... Rali's skills weren't really suited to a sword, axe, or any other such large weapon, just to killing. The relish he showed, and his attachment to the dead, quickly got him shunned, and eventually expelled, from the guards. He travelled for a year or two, and found the Order of the Long Death. He survived the initiation rites, barely. He and one other were the only ones to do so out of a group of twenty. Rali is yet to be indoctrinated into the inner circle, a ritual that requires killing one who is currently a member, with a weapon blessed by the order. He is in the world for the express purpose of searching for that weapon. Description: Six foot, one inch in height, remarkably slender. Skin is deathly white, a mark common to monks of his ilk. Hair is black, and just past chin length, let grow after he was initiated. A large percentage of his torso is traced with scars, reminders of his training. Wears long black pants, boots, and a black half robe. Eyes are grey. Face is done up grey, with blackened eyes and lips.[/font][/color]

[font=gothic][color=crimson]If wasn't a sad, sad person with little else to do but RP...I would have signed up anyway out of pique. Ha! Name: Flynn Mitchell Age: 15 Description: About 5 foot nine, very slender. Hair is dyed black, and slightly longer than his chin. Eyes are kind of greyish, and resemble sunlight on water, with the crazy ripples and lines and all. The pupil has a strange yellow section around it, not sure why. Tends to wear a pair of black cotton jeans, a long sleeved black shirt with this weird looking skull with a garlic clove coming from its forehead on the front, done in red, and flames on the sleeves, also red. Pair of black boots. Bio: His early life was pretty ordinary. He did alright at school, excelling in English (he was reading at an age 14 level at age 7), did a bit of sport, got a brown belt in karate at age nine. Same year, his mother developed breast cancer, and subsequently died. Flynn turned into a bit of a psycho for a while, eventually settling down. Or appearing to. In actuality, he went through a year of schizophrenia, depression and suicide attempts. The scars have faded to almost invisible white lines by now though. Flynn was basically an outsider for years, with only three close friends, though he had a fairly large group of aquaintances. This changed in the second year of highschool, he met a girl. After a few months of threatening to kill each other and whatnot, they finally admitted they loved each other desperately (which everyone else had known from the beginning), and that was that. Have been inseperable since. Flynn took up Tae Kwon Do at the end of year 10, is technically only a yellow belt, though in actuality he's quite far beyond that. Currently midway through semester 1 of year eleven, studying Physics, Biology, Chemistry, English, Maths B and IPT. ....mmm...Biographical....[/font][/color]

[font=gothic][color=crimson]I'd give you a name...but it wouldn't make sense. Anyway, I'm interested in the idea, but there is one catch... How critical would we be allowed to be?[/font][/color]

[font=gothic][color=crimson][I]Bahamut, alone, solitary, defiant. Going under the name Aleksandr Kalwolski, stalked through the streets of Venice, muttering under his breath for the duplicity, the idiocy, inherent in these pathetic, mortal, humans. He swore under his breath, an oath that would be recognised by only a handful of people alive today. And none of those people were ones he was inclined to talk to. Some random drunk tried to push him, and found it as futile as pushing stone. Bahamut turned, looking down at him, before looking at the alley the man had tried to push him into.[/I] Bahamut: You wish me to go down there? [I]The man shook his head slightly, confused. Given no other options, he nodded foolishly. Bahamut turned, striding into the alley. He felt movement behind him, and the man struck him in the back of the neck. Bahamut sighed, and turned. He smiled, and let his mouth slip back into draconic form. Suddenly confronted by a demon jawed person who took a hit to the back of the neck without flinching, sobriety came crashing down around the man. He turned and ran. Bahamut seriously doubted he would ever drink again.[/font][/color][/I]

[font=gothic][color=crimson][I]The first thing he remembered was the light. The sun. The harsh, discomforting blinding light that permeated the entire world. But it wasn't there. It was dark, and the open space called 'sky' above him was filled with strange masses of what looked to be rock. Rock in the sky? He stood, exposed, the air chill around him. Strange, sharp, chilling spikes suddenly dived into his skin. He leapt sideways and rolled, looking for his attacker. He found nothing. He looked up, and received another spike to the eye. It ran down his face, and fell onto his lips. Water. Someone was attacking him, from above, with water? Perhaps these rocks-in-the-sky were sentient, and hostile. That the surface would have such a scourge was somewhat worrying. Rali decided, abruptly, that he would not let the water faze him. Looking around, he stood on a rock ledge. This time, when he looked over the edge, he saw a myraidly coloured panorama. A vista of all sorts of landscapes, strange features he could not identity, as was most of the surface. Small moving shapes. He instinctively ducked back, formulating a plan of attack. Before realising that they were too far away to possibly be any threat...and weren't, in this place, neccessarily hostile anyway. This world was disorienting, strange, unfathomable. Rocks in the sky that attacked with water, a blinding spectrum of colour, and strangely increased eyesight, as if the air were less thick, allowing vision to penetrate further. Rali sighed in frustration, muttering something. The words gave him another realisation. He wouldn't be able to understand a thing anyone said...[/font][/color][/I]

[font=gothic][color=crimson]Random people talk to me at times, but there are two reasons. It's always either a) they want to know whether I'm male or female (despite all evidence, they still find the need to ask. And they're not even making a joke, they seriously don't know.) or b) They want to know whether I'm a "goth" or a "metalhead". They might have been one or two other reasons, but I was pretty standoffish...[/font][/color]

[font=gothic][color=crimson]Mmm...calculated insanity... Boards name: The Harlequin (Redux) Real Name: Flynn Bio: Harlequin blames his reappearance, temporary disappearance, and subsequent reappearance on someone else. Liam, iPrimus, and himself respectively. That in mind, he's not really sure what exactly that has to do with anything. He's just, as usual, along for the ride and/or sarcastic comments. His forte is rpging, so he considers himself more than equiped for jumping into a slightly more semi-real rpg, the implications of which are currently chasing each other around and biting each others earlobes inside his head. As stated, all questions must go through his manager. Me. Who I am remains to be eaten...seen.[/font][/color]

[font=gothic][color=crimson]Well, I never went to theOtaku.com, because I've never had an interest in Anime. Liam introduced the first of us (the long, long list) to Otaku, which would have been Cloricus and Ravenstorture. Raven started an rpg involving a character that was basically me, and I signed up to "defend my honour". And then I end up losing any life I had, and not caring.[/font][/color]

[font=gothic][color=crimson]The temptation was there to play Dufor, but I'll leave off for now. Name- Rali Kreigyr Age- 22 Weapons- Twin kamas, Barret M2A1A Sniper rifle, with custom bayonet. Specialty- Stealth, Assasination (distinct from infiltration and sharpshooting, may I add.) Bio- Rali is an ex military service man. Yes, his real age is 22. He joined at eighteen, did his training, and was almost immediately booted out. He doesn't make a secret of why. He was not exactly prone to wanton violence, but he was never one to back down from a fight. As was usual, the older members gave him hell. Rali, not meaning to, tended to escalate it though his cold, aloof attitude. Eventually push came to shove, and Rali shoved back a little harder than was most likely neccessary. Someone got hurt a little more than they should have. Rali, now free of the military, which he was starting to find confining anyway, started thinking on his old life. He had a normal family, did normal things, went to highschool, passed his subjects at an above average, though by no means great, level, and that was it. He'd never really had any ambitions. He'd never really had a girlfriend. His life had been pretty sterile. And it had taken him this long to realise it. Rali started travelling, thinking that in all the myriad philosophies in the world, there had to be something that held meaning for him. He found it in a Japanese art known as Nanigata. A type of martial art practiced with a bladed staff, it demanded perfect discipline from all its participants. Just what Rali needed to give him direction. He trained for three years, becoming fairly high ranked, though not yet the equivalent of a black belt. When word broke out that things were getting strange, Rali's order received a message from the military, as many martial arts organistations did. Rali, having already served, and not being high enough ranked to inconvenience the dojo, was nominated to serve. Rali's found a reinforced sniper rifle with a bladed end serve as well as a traditional nanigata. Appearance- Six foot one, and slender. Long black hair, tied back in the traditional fashion. Wears a pair of black cotton jeans, and a black Mandarin shirt, trimmed with grey. Authentic Chinese silk, it's pretty damn tough, for all its fragile appearance. Wears a pair of black combat boots issued to him upon his return. A single silver ring on his left hand, with an intricate Celtic knotwork design.[/font][/color]

[font=gothic][color=crimson][I]The man, or zombie, as it appeared to be, raised his ax, and brought it down. Rali stepped right, holding the pipe up, sloping down from right to left. As the ax slid off, though it jarred his arm, Rali spun right. The zombie's momentum carried it forward past him, and as Rali spun fully around, he brought the pipe into the back of the man's neck. He stumbled, and fell, but started to get up. Rali took a step back, wary. He spun the pipe through his fingers, catching it in a dagger like grip. With it held across his body, he stepped forward and swept it across the man's throat. The jagged edge of the metal ripped out the man's throat. It didn't faze him, but that was never Rali's intent. He spun the pipe back into a forehand grip before he'd finished the swing, brought his arm back, and knocked through the exposed spine, which nearly exploded. The looping attack had always been unexpected in those hazy years where he had gone at people with chains and clubs. The dead, it seemed, reacted no differently. Rali stepped back, making sure he wouldn't rise again. He didn't seem likely to, judging by his unmoving state. Rali turned to help Damien.[/font][/color][/I]

[font=gothic][color=crimson]OOC: I'd almost forgotten this thing existed... IC: [I]Rali looked over the large pit before him, shadows the other side distorted from the heat waves shimmering upwards from the pool below. Much of the underground cave system known as the Elcrinth Way. Labrynthine, either eternally dark or molten, not to mention populated with creatures bizarre and dangerous in the extreme, the Elcrinth Way is no place for anyone not schooled to its perils. Surface dwellers, no matter who or what they were, didn't survive down here. One way or another. Whether through cave falls, lava pits, monsters, or sheer shattered minds from the endless dark, they died. Ironically, those who lived down here rarely survived on the surface. Rali had been up there, and he knew that the dangerous up there, while quite often more open than those of the Elcrinth Way, had their own unseen pitfalls. The main one seemed to be humans and their ilk. The lythanoids were a small, but successful tribe. The entire race lived together, in an immense cavern they termed the Elcrithian. The lythanoids named most of the things down here, though there were several more successful, more widepsread, more evolved, forms of life. Still, the Lythanoids made what rules there were down here. The dark elves of legend, the deep dwarves, the albino, apelike hulking khardmok, strongest creatures known, pound for pound, even avoided Rali's tribe. A powerful legend, no one really sure what it was founded on. And Rali's tribe avoided him. More, they had thrown him out. For, a simple tribe, they were unaccustomed to the darker side of spiritual life. Darkness itself, they were more than accustomed to. But when Rali entered that other darkness, he had, in their eyes, become something other than one of them. He was no longer fit to stay with the tribe. Rali hadn't really minded. He was capable of surviving on his own, something that very few were capable of doing. But he had done so for a long time now. Without further thought, he leapt, wings splaying outwards. The heat waves carried him up, and he rode them like an eagle rides thermals. Here wa a sky that eagles had never touched. Nighthunters ruled the air in these places. They even congregated above the Elcrithian. And took the occasional unwary Lythanoid as prey. The unwary always died down here. It was the way of things. Rali reached the edge of the pit, settling easily onto the ledge. He stretched his limbs idly, wondering what exactly this was serving. Why he continued to push himself to survive. He looked around at the cave he called his domain. Well, it had been his domain, until another had claimed it. A fire drake, a subterranean creature greater by far than the dragons that populated the surface, had stuck its head up through the pit of molten rock, and liked what he saw. He had stayed, and occasionally tried to make a meal of Rali. Its head reared up now, looking at the lythanoid contemplatively. Rali ducked back, into a crevasse slightly higher than his six foot head. Far too small for the drake's jaws. He had often wondered about this strange game they played. He knew, that when he survived, that the drake lost. But he knew that when he survived, he didn't win. How did he win then? The thought suddenly struck him. He left. Left the place altogether, permanently denied the drake of a meal. But where would he go? The Elcrinth Way had few places hospitable, though the term may seem strange, as this. And the Elcrinth Way was getting boring, and Rali needed the challenge, the push, the constant danger, to keep himself sharp, to give him the edge he needed to survive. Not physically, but mentally. The edge, the fierce knowledge that he in his own way could handle everything that came for him, gave him the spirit, the resilience, to live. And where else to test himself but the place he understood least? Rali stepped back onto the ledge, looking the drake in the eye. He leapt upwards, landing on its snout. It reared, startled. Rali leapt upwards, using the thermals to carry him upwards. The drake roared, the heat from its breath carrying him upwards even faster. The drake shot upwards, jaws open horribly wide. Rali swept his wings, carrying himself sideways. The drake missed by inches, scales larger than his torso shooting past Rali's eyes dangerously fast. The drake subsided downwards for another vertical lunge, but snapped a long way under Rali's feet. Rali landed on a higher ledge, one he rarely visited. Because it only lead one place. A small, seemingly insignifigant crack, with a strange light coming through. Not the red, orange glow that one saw often in the Elcrinth Way, but bright, yellow light, that illuminated something blue. Rali, and the seven other Lythanoids, now all dead, that have visited the surface, knew what that place held. The entire Lythanoids nation, only seven members ever having visited the surface. The last one to visit had done so nearly half a thousand years ago. And all of those visits had lasted less than 10 cycles of their sun and moon, or days, as the surface dwellers called them. Rali had been up there considerably longer. His next visit would be even more extended. As he clasped his wings to his side to let him get through the narrow gap, he wondered if he was ready for the world above. He had a feeling he'd at least cause a bit of a stir.[/font][/color][/I]

[font=gothic][color=crimson][I]Rali looked at Blaze a long moment, almost derisive.[/I] Rali: Don't be rediculous. You think I'd stay cramped up here when there was live music available? Even if it is a travesty such as Linkin Park? Blaze: Sorry for not sharing your fascination with the goth music scene. Rali: You'll live. Blaze: We'll see. [I]They left quickly, Rali tucking a pair of kamas, black handled with chrome studs, under his shirt. This would be a lot better than waiting, besides, high potential for a fight.[/font][/color][/I]

[font=gothic][color=crimson]Appreciated. So, when's this thing start?[/font][/color]

[font=gothic][color=crimson]I understood it. Once you get your head around the paradox, which I know is a contradiction in terms, then it makes sense. Understanding it in theory, and all that. But yeah, it was a damn good movie. [/font][/color]

[font=gothic][color=crimson][I]Mykkael turned away a moment, conferring momentarily with Ulrich. Arano went to step past, following Kenratu. Mykkael spun back, placing a hand on his shoulder, looking at Arano with a slight smile, bitter as it was, on his face.[/I] Mykkael: Despite the fact that you're one of the biggest son of a ***** I know, and we both want to kill each other, it was indeed good to see you again. [I]Mykkael propelled him forward, and stalked off without further words. Ulrich didn't move for a second, looking at both of them, one to the other and back. Arano turned momentarily and looked at him. Ulrich did the smart thing and disappeared. He caught up with Mykkael and spun him around, looking at him questioningly.[/I] Ulrich: What the hell was that all about? Mykkael: Last time we spoke, I mentioned that I operated on a three step system. First time around, I ignore them. Second time, I give them a warning. Third time....heads start to roll. [I]Ulrich just shook his head, and kept walking. Mykkael followed, though he was certain Ulrich had no idea where he was going.[/font][/color][/I]

[font=gothic][color=crimson][I]Rali stopped, frustrated. This was getting over the top. The entire place had gone crazy, this guy was definately crazy. And the scream didn't sound like it had come from anyone sane either. But then, sanity had never been one of Rali's faults. Not anymore anyway. He stalked in, slowly. It was unlikely he'd run into anything unannounced, at the very least by Damien's mutilated corpse, but somehow that thought was less comforting than it should have been. They always were. Everyone likes the blood and the screaming and the death until they're surrounded in it. But then, on the other hand, moderation if for monks. There's no such thing as too much. There's no such thing as enough either. That in mind, a knife in hand, Rali kept walking into the forsaken hospital.[/font][/color][/I]