The Harlequin

[font=gothic][color=crimson]I'm with Etarah's Maverick on this one to the nth degree. Oh, my experiences were more mentally orientated than his, but I've certainly felt my share of pain. I watched, for an entire year, as my mother wasted away in front of me, before my father walked into my room one morning in tears. I've been through schizophrenia of the worst kind, and seen everything, and everyone one I may have had the slightest regard for brutalised, slaughtered, tortured again and again. I've seen that desolation that comes from a loved one's death. I've woken up in a pool of my own blood because of it. I've gotten a knife in the back, because I simply didn't care enoguh to hand over my wallet. You die in more ways than just being torn apart. If you're not strong enough, and nobody [I]ever[/I] is, then your emotions die within you. It takes time, but they perish. Your memories fade away, until you are left with nothing but a screaming ache in the pit of your stomach. Everything within you fades away, leaving you an empty husk. The mental equivalent of leprosy. I make no jest here, I have been to that point. I felt nothing for years. Do any of you have any idea what it is to live through an empty existance? The only reasons you live being that you don't care enough to die, and somewhere, something inside you whispers that you can't dishonour another's death with your own? Oh, the amount of times Raven has phoned me, saying she was on the verge of killing herself. The amount of times I've taken a knife to my chest, only to receive that last minute, frantic phone call to the contrary. And she knows it. And it stops her. But if just that once, she didn't make it, I would certainly go through with it. Because she is so much stronger than I am. She would take it, recover, realise the lesson I gave her in death. She can never take her own life, because to extinguish that spark within her would be to deny too many people the chance to be warmed by it. I don't have that spark. It went out many years ago. But now, I'm rekindling it through her. Originally, I was merely touched when I read that EM would die for me. But upon reading that, and his reasons, I understand so perfectly, with such a clarity, its truly frightening. Nothing is forever. But give those you love everything you can. Death is nothing, a brief flash, than sweet oblivion. Life, life is the rub, the task.[/font][/color]

[font=gothic][color=crimson]OOC: Fine...I don't need your crumby powers anyway....no really, I don't.lol. IC: [I]There was a moment's silence. That was just the kind of quip Alastuin had been looking for...[/I] Kattarin: Well... So, do [I]I[/I] run in there and take a shot at clearing things up? Lacroix: I'd let it blow over. Besides, you and I need to have a long talk. Kattarin: About what.... [I]Lacroix pointed an accusing finger at his daughter.[/I] Lacroix: The number of hours you've spent swearing at me over the last year or so... Kattarin: It seemed like the right thing to do at the time. Lacroix: Oh...that's okay then.[/font][/color]

[font=gothic][color=crimson]I knew that already. I didn't know he was the kind of nut who went looking for albums that hadn't been released though.... *wanders off to find out if there's a medical term for that*[/font][/color]

[font=gothic][color=crimson]Living for a loved one is nasty. Very nasty. And a lot harder than dying for one. Just a note from personal experience. I'd die for someone I didn't love, provided that someone was actually a purple chicken. I've always wanted to see a purple chicken.... *wanders off to find some hairdye*[/font][/color]

[font=gothic][color=crimson]OOC: Hey, I'm playing with universes here...fun. Lacroix: To give you a basic rundown...my parents were poor, my father abused my mother, she poisoned him, framed me, I get thrown into a hole, escaped, became somewhat of a nuisance to anybody in a position of respectable authority. Law and order held no bounds over me, yet I didn't go out of my way to break them. A free spirit you could call me. A complete bastard, you could also have called me. Then I met a ...friend. Anyway, after some extensive escapades involving a long fight, interplanar travel, some crazy faeries, a Fey Queen with some messed up family views, and the Deathless Dragon, to say the least, I ran into a new way of looking at things. I retreated for a while, before running into Gene. Anyway, some things happened, and I ended up a vampyre. We decided to settle down permanently, the three of us. So, using some of my...skills, I had us a rather interesting castle built. It was during the first night we slept there that things got....strange. Sometime after midnight, the three of us woke up. All at once, and not in the Castle. The reason this is so is because we all hit the floor at the same time. And let me tell you, it was one of the hardest floors I've ever run into. Or fell into perhaps.... Kattarin: Does it matter? Lacroix: It offends my sense of style. And don't interrupt your elders. [I]The snort of derision he got in reply to this was promptly ignored.[/I] Lacroix: Anyways, I don't know whether it was rampant place magic, some kind of demonic cabbal, or all the archangels, or what not, but there was some kind of creature there, an unnatural, ethereal beast. I'd never seen it's like before, and hope never to again. Though this time I'd give the bastard a piece of my mind... I'll digress here a bit, just for information's purposes. [I]Lacroix held his hands out, cupped, to form a sphere.[/I] Lacroix: From what I learnt that night, and extensive arcane research, the multiverse, all planes, dimensions, worlds, everything, is my hands. Not inside it, just my hands. Inside is darkness, the pure, quintessential, undiluted evil. I know not whether it has a name, and I would not utter it if it did. It is not alive, not a creature, merely a force. Non-sentient, non intelligent. However, it is a force beyond anything this multiverse could imagine, or ever handle. Now, on the outside of my hands is the opposite, good. Actually, they aren't good and evil. More accurately, they are order and chaos. Good and evil don't exist. The centre part would be considered evil by most though, for in it is contained the potential for wanton destruction. Completely destruction. Annihilation. However, the outside would be nearly as bad. Everything would be controlled. From governments, down to your heartbeat. For you entire life. We are crushed between these two opposing principles, but sheltered from their greater power by the influence of the other. [I]Lacroix moved his hands apart, keeping them in shape.[/I] Lacroix: And this, unfortunately, is what the universe is doing. As we expand more into order, chaos also grows. To keep some primal balance the greatest of minds could not begin to comprehend. Anyways, it's somewhat distressing to think about, but this is what happened. [I]Lacroix moved his hands apart, until they were no longer touching.[/I] Lacroix: Entire realms were severed apart. A single, hairline crack down the centre of reality, the divided the multiverse apart. Now, anyone have any idea what happens when an earthquake tear the earth wide open, and sea water pours in? [I]The shook their heads.[/I] Lacroix: The whole bloody thing explodes. And it doesn't do it softly either. Now, this, on a primal scale, is what happened when those forces of order and chaos flooded into each other. Which meant... [I]Lacroix moved his hands as far apart as he could.[/I] Lacroix: Major propulsion. Now, eventually, the two forces cancelled each other out. This, by the way, was about the exact time I was born, so I've traced it. Which may explain why I was chosen, so to speak. So, what we have left is a moderate force. A ying-yang, a balance, a duality, call it what you will. But it was there. Now, this force needed to act upon the two halves of the multiverse, to bring them together. To do that though, it needed to get out from inbetween them. Which meant going somewhere else. With the order that was between us and the void gone though, we were floating in that nullified zone, on the verge of annihilation. Now, this balance reasoned that if it kept hold, so to speak, on either side of the multiverse, and moved itself into the multiverse, it would eventually permeate everything, allowing it to act more efficiently than order and chaos ever had. The problem was, the force was distributed evenly throughout everything. And there was still more than half left over. Anyway, back to this creature. This creature was the manifestation of this force, something neither order or chaos had ever been able to do. It told us of this dilemma, and asked us to offer ourselves as sacrafice. I was feeling a mite noble, and said that I would do everything, for the other two as well. It looked at me oddly, and simply replied with "as you wish", and moved towards me. It's presence was incredible, immense. It touched me, and everything opened up before me. I must have been there for hours,days, maybe even months. In fact, I'm sure it was at least that. But at the end of it, I was the phylactery, the receptacle, of this primal force. Perhaps because I was already a vampyre at that time, perhaps not, it chose the blood to reside in most part. Perhaps because the blood contacts all of the body, but is of none of it. Actually, I am now certain that is the reason is resides in the blood. Now, Geneveive and I were lovers after all, and we were vampyres. She was transfixed as I was, and became the receptacle of an equal amount of force, without me being diminished. Again, this was all for balance. I don't know if it was such a good idea though, because after all, Gene did get pregnant. Though it was much diluted, the remnants of the power lives on in my family's veins. And although it is only a pale shadow, a weak reflection, this power is still far, far greater than most mortals, and many other beings, could ever dream of gaining. It varies from s'Xalerian to s'Xalerian, but it is present in all of them. You Kattarin are the strongest I've seen since myself and Gene. [I]Alastuin and Kattarin stared at him in amazement. This was too much to comprehend. The ideas imparted were mind boggling, infinite, primal. Kattarin shivered at the force she now knew was inside her.[/I] Lacroix: Anyway, the outcome was a Guardian. I act for the balance now, but only on matters that threaten on a eternal scale. The force learnt from its parents, so to speak, and only acts when neccessary now. Like a pendulem, the balance swings back and forth. Should I choose to, I could halt that swing, at any point. Should I choose to, I could destroy the very fabric of creation. But then, should she choose to, Gene could counter my every move, to a deadlock. So, there is balance. In this petty squabble however, I will not get involved. Why not? Simple. Not only can you handle it, Gene and I are also expecting another baby. Kattarin: Gods, how many do you have? Lacroix: Less than a hundred actually. You the only one currently living though. Alastuin: Yet still you release the potential for wanton destruction upon the world. Lacroix: You don't seem to understand. I am an absolute. Nothing is beyond me. I am beyond anything else in the fabric of creation save Genevieve. The only thing that could be a threat to me is the void, which can, by its nature, never intrude upon matter. [I]Kattarin shook her head again, and sat down. This was way too much.[/I] Kattarin: What about the various s'Xalerian traditions? Lacroix:What? Oh...That's just the way your minds run. It isn't really a tradition I established. Still, it is definately a positive to your lives, so I wouldn't give it up. Kattarin: And what now? Now that I know all this... Lacroix: Do as you will. Live your life. Even though I judge it not to be your bent, running around shouting cosmic theories wouldn't really do anything, and certainly wouldn't worry me. Alastuin: One last thing... Lacroix: I don't like that tone. Alastuin: How much control does this force have over you? Lacroix: Oh, is that all. None, whatsoever. Save in times of primal crisis. And guess what. We don't get many of them. In fact, we've never run into one. So hey, I guess we're all alright then. Alastuin: Good. [I]That said, she slapped him, hard.[/I] Alastuin: I've been wanting to do that for centuries. Lacroix: Everyone does. Aye, tis for cert my bane. Kattarin: Just what I need....an infinite father with a bad highlander accent....[/font][/color]

[font=gothic][color=crimson]I asked if you were signing up...didn't seem like trying to slip it by you to me... Oh, by the way. If anybody wants background on the strange character interaction that will almost certainly happen with guest NPCs introduced by Raiha and myself, there is a number of things you'd need to read.... And I don't think anybody would get around to it. Still, if we happen to confuse you too much, just PM me, and I'll give you the rundown.[/font][/color]

[font=gothic][color=crimson]I'd certainly die for Raven (though there'd be a hell of an argument between us before hand), and for Jack, but that is more because I value my life very little.[/font][/color]

[font=gothic][color=crimson][i]He was six feet tall, slightly taller than Kattarin. He was cloaked in black, with what looked to be mithral chain mail underneath. Must be a new addition, Lacroix had never worn anything more than black leather previously. When Lacroix took off the coat, the chainmail turned out to be a mere vest over his signature leather armour. He carried his scimitars, despite the fact that Kattarin had thought them inside the Castle. He moved with an easy grace, but no one mistook the deadliness in his stance. His eyes radiated strength, pure personal strength, not some mere physical prowess. He moved to the scrying bowl, looking on with disinterest.[/I] Lacroix: You wish me to intervene? Certainly, I could take care of everything you see with little or no effort, but what would that prove? I have other things to do then quell random bands of adventures getting into fights. Alastuin: Pyrial is there? Lacroix: What of him. I've banished greater than him to the Abyss, or to the Heavens. Alastuin: And it's well known. Which means any angel or demon that comes along will seek to thwart you any way they can. Lacroix: What has that to do with my daughter here? Kattarin: Simple. I'm about to do the whole run off and see the world thing. Finding little better to do, I'll probbly end up with that lot you see whacking each other there. And if their attracting the attention of beings on either side of the Celestial fence, then I'll be a target. Lacroix: Then I'll kill whatever bothers you. Kattarin: You find it so easy to dispose of anything you dislike don't you? Lacroix: Well, yes. [I]Kattarin threw her hands into the air in disgust. Unfortunately, Lacroix was everything she expected.[/I] Kattarin: Alright, let me put it on this basis. If you take care of every problem I have, would I be worthy to continue the s'Xalerian line. [I]Lacroix narrowed his eyes, then looked to Alastuin.[/I] Lacroix: You know, I think I could get to like this one. What do you want me to do then? Kattarin: I want you to explain. Everything. [I]Lacroix went still, a freezing look stopping Kattarin short. For a long moment, no one breathed. When Lacroix spoke next, his voice was a calm, deadly whisper. Alastuin shivered. Lacroix rarely took that tone, and never had she heard it without bloodshed following.[/I] Lacroix: As you wish. Be careful however, what you do with the information.[/font][/color]

[font=gothic][color=crimson]Lacroix: You may be right. After all... [I]Lacroix flexed his hand. Not his fingers, his hand. It bent in line where the thumb connected, all the way across. His fingers curled into spirals.[/I] Lacroix: Not having bones kind of helps. [I]Not getting a response, he continued his argument with Alqwerik. Ganthor looked on with mild interest, but if he said anything, Alqwerik didn't respond, and Lacroix didn't hear it.[/font][/color][/I]

[font=gothic][color=crimson]Lacroix: I just prefer a different method. [I]Lacroix wandered over to the edge of the clearing, one of the other bucks had run off. He set out, following what signs he could find. As soon as he was out of earshot, Alqwerik spoke.[/I] Alqwerik: Well, he won't eat it, so chances are I'll have to. Which saves me some trouble, but still.... [I]Lacroix stalked the deer, shadowing its movements. Like a panther, he took to the trees, darting ahead of the now calm buck. The deer changed course slightly, and Lacroix ran along the branches like some monsterous black squirrel. The buck caught a scent, and looked around. Seeing nothing, it raised its head as much as it could. In time to see Lacroix drop down, claws raking deep into the creature's chest and throat. The buck shuddered, gave out a last, forlon call, and died. Lacroix walked back into the clearing. He'd only been gone for five minutes. He tossed the deer to Alqwerik, who agilely caught it in his jaws.[/I] Lacroix: Weapons make it so much less fun...[/font][/color]

[font=gothic][color=crimson]OOC: Oh, I suppose I'd better do something to establish the fact that I'm so hideous, evil, savage, what not that everybody always likes to kill me. Hell, why not. Can't be too dissimilar to highschool.... Oh, and apologies to anyone this may offend etc... IC: [I]Kattarin (God damn this seems weird now) proved an interesting and somewhat ...enthusiatic paramour. Truly, the Fire Witch King had found his Queen. For her amusement, Lacroix took ransom a village, taking all the young, able men, leaving them to be gnawed alive by rats, or thrown into pools filled to bursting with leeches, or evis cerated with abrasive sands. The simplest pleasures however, were always the greatest. The mayor of the village, your typical upstart who gets a taste of authority and thinks he's born for it, protested somewhat sulphurously to such treatment. Lacroix obliged him with something else. As Kattarin stood at his side, the mayor was hung up from a version of the strappado, Lacroix working the rack with practiced, almost gentle skill. Taking a long knife, he slit a triangle into the skin of the man's arm, sliding the knife under the severed flesh.[/I] Lacroix: You're more than welcome to scream. [I]Lacroix lifted the knife slightly. He bent forward, smiling, teeth revealed. Then they were stained a foul red, as he ripped the flap of skin away with his teeth. The mayor exercised his right in an exemplary fashion... The scream washed through the two of them like a tidal surge, a catalyst to the infernal passions locked within them. Each of them shuddered, gripped in the throes of grim ecstasy. Gripping Kattarin's head, he pulled her towards him, ripping the piece of skin in two with his teeth. Kissing her savagely, he passed half of it into her mouth, savouring the mixture of blood and lust. Each of them ingested their respective morsels, more for the effect on the mayor than any desire for the taste of human flesh. Blood though...that was another matter. Lacroix worked fast with his knife. Next, from the same area, he stripped away excess flesh, feeling the blood run over his hands. They were none too steady, as he shook with unbridled desire. Kattarin started removing clothing, regardless of whos it was. Their unclad and obviously excited state served only to distress the mayor more. He passed out, too soon. He awoke minutes later, Lacroix having stripped away muscle. In that small, severed triangle on his arm, stoof exposed nerves, glistening with moisture, and quivering as a light breeze brushed across them. The mayor shook, somewhere between pain and and the icy grip of death. Lacroix smiled, drawing out a feather. Reaching down, he lightly ran it, against the grain, over the man's nerves. Cataclysmic. Orgasmic. Satiating. A firestorm of pleasure running through minds in desperate need of such a sanguine release... They embraced, feverishly fufilling their physical desires with each other... Short of that climax, Kattarin pulled away from Lacroix. She smiled, and took up the knife. She placed it gently into the mayor's stomach, moving it a few inches upwards, before prising the wound apart. She removed the knife, and gestured to the wound. Under her breath, into Lacroix's ear, instructions were murmered, ending with the words "For me". Eyes widening half in surprised delight, half in shock, he moved towards the man, in a coupling that seemed to be the fruit of the concentrated black passion within each person's soul...[/I] OOC: No, I'll not get graphic anytime soon.[/font][/color]

[font=gothic][color=crimson]Lacroix: Well you go do that. I don't eat. Not only am I Undead, I'm also a Lythanoid. You may have realised by now that we have somewhat higher internal temperatures than any other species known. Where do you think this energy goes? The fact that we have mouths is merely a now-defunct evolutionary trait, which is even now disappearing from our species. I don't know about communication, but hell, not my problem. Nepenthe: So what? You'll come anyway. Alqwerik: The fact that she knows you so well already suggests a certain empathy. Which suggests I should eat the lot of you right now... [I]Alqwerik shot Nepenthe a look of mild amusement.[/I] Alqwerik: And I'm an avatar. Lethe can dislike whatever she damn well pleases... Lacroix: If you two are nearly finished... [I]The words "You god damned hypocrite" echoed in unison from the other three beings in the clearing. Lacroix only heard two renditions, but could guess the third from the look on Ganthor's face.[/I] Lacroix: Would it be a bad time to suggest we all go out and work out our frustrations on some nice succulent deer? Appealing to all you people with appetites... Alqwerik: I'm going to eat you. Lacroix: I know. I know. I'm going to eat me too. [I]For some reason, that didn't get much of a response... It did however, get everybody away from Lacroix. Oh sure, he followed along, but for some reason the other three kept staying ahead of him...He wasn't sure why. And they seemed deep in conversation, because none of them seemed to hear him... Finally, in frustration, Lacroix yelled out "Stop subverting my lizard". No reply. He gave up.[/font][/color][/i]

[font=gothic][color=crimson]Asiding the mute part, that is one of my characters....And, as Raven would say.... And that's cool. (Inside joke)[/font][/color]

[font=gothic][color=crimson]For some reason, my father has been running around for two weeks trying to buy that album. No, it didn't come out in Australia earlier or anything, and yes, he was aware of that. Explanations would be welcomed... I've seen one of their songs on Rage (the only decent free-to-air music show around in Australia to my knowledge), and heard the same one once or twice. However, I have yet to find out which one it is. I know I like it a lot though. Having just recently become a smashing pumpkins fans, I guess it hasn't wore off yet. We'll see how I like it in a month or so.[/font][/color]

[font=gothic][color=crimson]Strange as this may sound, but Cloricus may have a point in one of those posts. (just about everything else is ******** as usual though) From what I'm told, Raven confides quite a bit about her and I to him. And if that doesn't corrupt him, then he certainly deserves a [I]medal[/i]. Yes Cloricus, that's directed at you.[/font][/color]

[font=gothic][color=crimson]Lol. Now if I knew my character was going to have that many problems...ah hell, I would have signed up the same anyway.[/font][/color]

[font=gothic][color=crimson]OOC: I know this is cheap, you know this is cheap, it's been established that is a pretty poor excuse for entering a storyline, but I thought I should get around to it soon. Even if only vaguely. IC: [I]Alastuin seemed on the verge of speaking again, when her eyes narrowed sharply. She swept around, beckoning Kattarin over to one of the many shelves that cluttered the walls. Puzzled the young woman followed, having no trouble picking her way through the debris. Alastuin brought down a large bowl, obsidian with traces of silver through it. A scrying bowl.[/I] Alastuin: One of power has just died, and a nexus of auras is drawn into the maelstrom. Kattarin: Someone I know? Alastuin: Unknown to us both. It struck a chord however, throughout several planes. Kattarin: Which means? [I]Alastuin looked up, her face grim.[/I] Alastuin: Without a doubt, your father will hear it. Kattarin: At last.... [I]Kattarin's voice was a whisper, a satisfied breath. Alastuin shook her head, less enthusiatic.[/I] Alastuin: It remains to be seen whether he will respond. Given the lack of proximity to Castle Xalerian, it is unlikely he will offer assistance to any beleaguered being involved in this combat, though he would be a great boon to either side. Kattarin: Lack of proximity? You mean Lacroix protects the Castle? Alastuin: Oh, not openly. But from denizens of esoteric realms, creatures you are not equiped to deal with, infernal beings in the like, Lacroix is a safeguard. He chased off a white dragon two decades ago, but that is as much as I know. Mymridions, Balors, Dark Lords of various cults have all sought to use the power of your bloodline to their advantage. Lacroix has so far stopped them. Kattarin: Power of my bloodline? Alastuin: Oh come now. You don't think one such as Lacroix comes about by accident. I don't know who or what his parents were, but they forged a terrible legacy. Your family have potential for any number of arcane facets. From sacrafice to the Lords of The Abyss, to clerics able to invoke a deity's very avatar. On top of that, you have hidden reservoirs of power that can be tapped with practice. Lacroix is ancient, and well versed in drawing on his latent strength. Perhaps he knows more of it than I. Kattarin: Then finding him becomes a doubly good idea. Alastuin: Indeed. [I]Alastuin concentrated on the scrying bowl, a startled sound coming from her lips.[/I] Alastuin: Now how the hell did he do that? [I]Kattarin was about to enquire what she meant when silver light flickered around them. With it came a dark, orchestral fan fare, a requiem, gothic overtones floating over soft vocals delivered by an invisible, demonic choir. When it cleared, and the music faded away, with a hint of desolation left behind, another figure stood inside the small hut. In a deep, but lyrical voice, it spoke in tones of sardonic amusement, coupled with an uncanny confidence. The words sounded as if put in jest, but there was no doubt to the truth of them.[/I] "Ah Alastuin, so good to see you again. And who might this be, to set eyes upon this vampyre extraordinaire, this master of the esoteric, the founder of the s'Xalerian line, builder of the Castle of the same name, protector of the family to this day, the probably now nefarious Lacroix?" Kattarin: You give yourself those titles daddy dear? [I]Everything Alastuin had ever hoped for came true. Lacroix had finally lost his equilibrium. Of course, he only blinked twice, but settling for small victories is a wise decision.[/font][/color][/I]

[font=gothic][color=crimson]You'd better actually have a potential plot line there Jack. I'll probably start this thing on Tuesday by the way.[/font][/color]

[font=gothic][color=crimson]OOC: Oh come on, that isn't even an original idea anymore. Still, I stand to be eaten (direct quote) if I don't cover for Raiha, so I'll go along with it. IC: [I]Lacroix awoke to soft laughter. He blearily got up, wondering where the rock had gone. Apparently, he had mused that thought out loud. Apparently, it had also not been coherent, for he received an amused, inquiring reply in return. Alqwerik grumbled something in the background. Sounds like someone just lost an argument... Lacroix stood, and groaned loudly. And sat back down again in a hurry. Well, it was actually more of a fall, but he tried.[/I] Lacroix: Mornings be bad. Very bad. I'm afraid I'll have to ask you to refrain from doing that in future though. If I hadn't been wearing this damn cloak, well, I'd be stuck here until nightfall. Or sufficient shadow. Nepenthe: I know. Lacroix: Somehow, that fails to surprise me. [I]A few loud groans later, and Lacroix's eyes adjusting to the light, he started walking around. He disappeared into a nearby stream, completely submerging himself. A lot of bubbles came up. Alqwerik had a good feeling he could translate them into the profanities Lacroix was certainly uttering. The Lythanoid came out, dripping wet, swearing, but otherwise more civil than he had been. He would be more human than he had been, but he isn't a human, and more Lythanoid than he had been doesn't make sense. Oh well. Lacroix walked back into the camp, doing something with his internal temperature to dry the cloak in a matter of seconds.[/I] Lacroix: Is there a good reason you're waking me up? In case you haven't noticed, neither of us takes well to it... [I]Alqwerik muttered something in response. Lacroix was tempted to throw him into the stream. Lacroix threw him into the stream.[/I] Nepenthe: You can pick him up? Lacroix: I'm a Lythanoid. That's what we do. Nepenthe: Throw large, annoyed serpents around? Is this some way of looking for a fight? Lacroix: With him, yes. Normally, though, we don't throw big lizards around. Still, you have to admit it was funny. Anyway, where were we? Oh yes... Why the hell are you getting me up?[/font][/color]

[font=gothic][color=crimson]Well. Without sounding too smug...I was clinically insane (child schizophrenia to be precise) for a year and a half, havbe had manic depression for quite a long time, and also suffer from OCD. Smug? Why the hell would I be smug about that? It was the worst time in my life.... I also go without food or sleep for a week on end without any difficulty. Personal best for sleep is six days, but I could have gone longer, just got bored, and food for eight, but then we went out to dinner and I had to be polite. I'm also an athiestic, existential, insufferably arrogant, elitist, nyctophilic eremophile. Translation: I'm your typical teenager, just taken a lot further. The Raven's a good poem, but I do Shakespeare. Unfortunately, that earned me the moniker Hamlet at Cadet Camp. And when you're a male, wearing your hair tied back, getting called Hamlet, surrounded by military people...not pretty.[/font][/color]

[font=gothic][color=crimson]Give me Starlet then. I always play slightly off-side characters. I'm better that way. I hate being important. Less fun. And besides, I've had more experience at that kind of thing, and I'd do better at it. Oh, and just because I say "Take a shot at" doesn't mean I'm not commited.[/font][/color]

[font=gothic][color=crimson]The more ways you can twist and/or continue it, the better. And it's now how good it sounds that will get it off the ground. I'm more concerned with the calibre of people that sign-up. [/font][/color]

[font=gothic][color=crimson]Alright, just a note before I get started. Due to the fact that my rpgs have so far died in conception, this is the last time I'm taking a shot at it for a while. On top of that, I intend to have multiple storylines running at once, including ones which will of neccessity be designed by you. So, if you're one of those no spelling, no grammer, no willingness to put in effort rpgs, go away. I'm trying to get this one to actually work. And you can bet I'm going to put some effort into screening posts... [I]In the kingdom of Atkala, there is an inn. Its location and ways are well known however, far further than Atkala's borders. Its full name is "The Stand Of The Masterless". To most however, it is simply "The Post". It stands larger than one would expect. It has seven floors, and is nearly the size of a pasha's palace, though far more functional in design. Within the strong wall that surrounds it is the largest mercenary trade in the world. Hireswords, bravos, adventures and other of that ilk gather there, to be recruited for war, dungeon delving, or guarding a noble lady's washing. The place is frowned upon by institutions of authority, priests, temples and all governments. Yet it remains, and does business. For to shut it down would be to unleash a wave of unemployed fighters of questionable morals upon the countryside. This place was set up by a retired adventurer named Lacroix s'Xalerian. In his heydey, his main concern was the biased treatment given to those who made their living, or just found their pleasure, through the sword. Seeing how his ilk were quite often considered mere bandits, in his latter life, he set up what amounted to a guildhouse. It made him quite rich, but more importantly, it made him certain that adventures were given rights. And he made sure it was never ill-used. One night, sometime in the early hours of the morning, the door to the inn crashed open. Lacroix was awake, conversing in low tones with a group of Gnomes about their latest invention. Lacroix had an interest in oddities. Snores from mercenaries of various races rocked the solid building, and the occasional bootheel clicked on stone. Lacroix rose to shut the door, unconcerned. The door opened all the time. It was never locked, as people turned up all hours of the day. He was half way across the common room floor when a loud thump was heard. His hands lowered to his well-used, familar scimitars. There was a groan from the area near the door, then the sound of an incantation, then silence. Out of character, Lacroix lit one of the many lamps. A large, furred form lay next to the cloakroom. It breathed, but was still. One of the Gnomes, always inquisitive, ran over to it, and started poking it. Another groaning emanated from somewhere in the huge form, and it rolled over. The gnome squeaked and jumped back, nearly impaled on a foot long horn. The gnome turned to Lacroix, and remarked in a solemn voice. "It's a minotaur" Lacroix muttered that he could see that, and bent over the now outstretched creature. It looked up at him, suddenly coherent. The depth in those pools of grey was frightening. This was a creature of intelligence cetainly. For a minotaur, that was quite rare. Lacroix took a slow step back. The minotaur sat up, shaking its head. It's voice was low, by its standards, yet still carried to the gnomes that remained in the opposite corner. "I mean you no harm. Tell me, where am I?" It was a sonorous, if rumbling, voice. Slightly scratchy, as if its owner had been ill-used, or perhaps sick. Lacroix relaxed. This minotaur was in no position to fight. Several disorientating minutes later, the minotaur was seated at the bar, partaking in some sherry with Lacroix. At its side was a finely crafted battleaxe, found when the minotaur had stood up...before falling to the ground with a thud. The impact had shaken the inn slightly, wakening several of the more...tightly strung patrons. Most of them were now gathered around the minotaur, waiting for him to explain his plight. Chances are, it was something up in the wind, for few people dared the wrath of The Post these days. The minotaur did so hesitantly, but with confidence. He revealed nothing about himself, only how he had come to be here. Several older creatures of various races narrowed their eyes. This was beginning to sound more and more like the old days. After the minotaur was finished, he drained his glass, and asked where he could find a room. With quiet dignity, he put forward that he had no money. Lacroix didn't hesitate, but beckoned him into the room behind the bar. Lacroix's room, though he never slept in it. The minotaur offered him soft thanks, and retired. For the next few hours, the old hands who had not sought their beds engaged in reminiscing. Lacroix laughed at their tales, sympathised with their pain, but his mind was on other matters. It was only in the last hours before dawn, when he was alone, that he realised he had no idea of the minotaur's name.[/I] Alright then. Everybody is going to start in that inn. I don't care what reason you may have for not wanting to, you're going to start there. It's neccessary. Mainly because, as I alluded to before, (if you bothered to read anything above this) you will have your own storyline, as well as the main plot line. The main plot line isn't my story by the way. I'm not that arrogant. The other members of the rpg will be present in your plotline, but it's entirely up to you what happens. And it doesn't end until the rpg does. So really, everybody will be writing in multiple stories at once, though they will all be tied together. If this sounds like too much effort, then don't bother. On to technical details. You can do or be anything you like. I don't care if its elves or werechickens. Just make it somewhat sensible, (so I guess that rules out the werechicken) and somewhat logical. Remember, we're all down-on-our-luck adventures. I don't want any 8000 year old creatures of the Abyss who just [I]happened[/I] to be there at the time. So, do what you like, but if I don't like it, I won't bother with you. I'll not stop you in advance, because it wouldn't work anyway. Oh, and at least try to make it up. Don't give me a bunch of characters, or even names, from some crazy anime show you saw once, as I know is so often the case in rpgs these days. For the moment, I'll need something along the lines of this. You know the drill. And if you don't, you probably shouldn't be here. [B]Name:[/B] Kinrade Riftsbane [B]Race:[/B] Minotaur (Again, I encourage you, be creative, but realistic) [B]Age:[/B] 23 [B]Bio/History:[/B] Kinrade was the son of the tribe's shaman. Minotaurs are not normally associated with mental pursuits, but they do have their dieties, and their beliefs. Chief among these is Belaaz, Lord of Battle. It is the shaman's duty to placate this dread god before conflict, and commend fallen warriors to his halls. Kinrade was educated by human tutors in order to further his service to Belaaz. Unfortunately, one of the tutors (who had been conscripted in service) was actually a star pit fighter, and a slave. When his owners came looking for him, and found the minotaur village, they burned it down, and killed the inhabitants with magic. After losing several other gladiators to the minotaur's wrath that is. Kinrade, who was 11 at the time, and was captured. His father was slain as he sought to invoke the hidden arcane might of Belaaz. Kinrade had never known about it, and was left ignorant of his esoteric heritage. Though only a child, he was still a six foot tall muscle bound creature with an instinct for strife. He was trained to fight as a gladiator, and won every bout, whether against man, beast or monster. His masters were satisfied. They continued his education, making him a wonder for people to gape at. The beast that could converse as a human, and cut asunder vicious monsters! In that vein, he was sold to a rich noble as a body guard at the age of seventeen. He served the man faithfully for a year, killing many would-be assassins or thieves. On his eighteenth birthday, Kinrade's blood boiled. Through him rushed a cold fire, sweeping him into realms unbenknowest to him before. After an hour of agony, he collapsed, shuddering. His master's attempts to rouse him were met with failure. The man sneered, and kicked him. He ordered his servants to dump the minotaur in the river, thinking him dead by arcane means. Kinrade came to floating face down. As he swam for shore, his mind coursed with strange visions. He was a cleric of Belaaz, educated by the proud god himself, for Belaaz would not release what was his, and was pleased with Kinrade's battle fury. Given freedom, and a purpose in life, Kinrade travelled for three years, learning the ways of the world, and bringing death as Belaaz wished. The destructive powers he sometimes channeled however, came at a price. Belaaz demanded blood, and should Kinrade go too long with killing, the god would send him into a beserk frenzy, in which he killed all he came across. Kinrade would awaken, exhausted, covered in blood. He never knew the innocents he killed, but their faces haunted him during his twisting nightmares. At least, Kinrade attempted to free himself from the black god. He tore his symbol, crossed battle axes, from his neck, and cast it off a cliff. Belaaz roared through his mind, demanding Kinrade's servitude. Kinrade resisted, and was thrown into madness. Kinrade wandered the world some more, always tormented by Belaaz's vocie in his head, though the god could no longer drive him to killing furies. He was lost, unsure, unknowing of what he did. Coherence returned at the age of 22, in the city of Wraspith, far in the north. It was underground, with a subterranean harbour crafted by magical might. It was populated by anyone who had the courage to live there. The original inhabitants, human barbarians, were most numerous. Among the savage barbarians, Kinrade made his living on a pirate ship, killing for money, though he liked it little. Indeed, he would sooner turn and attack a rival pirate ship then plunder a defenceless merchantman. Kinrade rose quickly to the rank of bosun, then the degrees of mate, then captain. His ship, the Horned Wrath, was the terror of the pirates, and the friend of innocents. His crew were not dockrats, but trained fighters. They number three paladins, among diverse others. This strange group drew the attention of the rules of Wraspith, a cult of liches who ruled the city with taloned fists and magic. Knowing that the other pirate captains could cause mayhem in the city, and preferring not to rule a graveyard, the liches put a curse of banishment upon Kinrade. They could have quelled any uprising easily, but chose to take the simpler option, revelling in evil themselves. Kinrade travelled south, to more civilised lands. The Grand Bazaar of Cathis intrigued him, and he found lodging there. He ran into a magican of some power, and in return for help with a small matter of a rival enchanter, was gifted with information. The city was about to die. A virulent plague swept through, killing most of the inhabitants. Kinrade fled, to return as the corpses were burning in piles higher than his head. He sought out the mage, and demanded to know how he was aware of this plague. Next Kinrade knew, he was awake on the floor in The Post. [B]Description[/B]: Eight feet tall, with black fur. Foot long horns. We all know what minotaurs look like. Has the typical minotaur muscularity, though is thinner than the average of the race. The symbol of Belaaz, crossed battle axes, with strange demonic blades, and ravens carved on the blades, adorns his left forearm, tatooed in red ink. A small mark of ownership, remnants of his slavery, adorns his right. [B]Equipment:[/B] Dwarven crafted battleaxe, leather bracers. [B]Reason for being at The Post[/B]: This is where you devise the beginnings of your storyline. What your character is after, their goal in life, something they are looking for whatever. But they have to have a purpose. No "Oh, I'm just out to see the world" or anything like that. Mine, for example, is that Kinrade wants to remove the taint of Belaaz from his mind, and what not. Alright. Maybe this one will actually work.[/font][/color]

[font=gothic][color=crimson]I'd go for CWBs as well. But anyway, what I really want to know is...what the hell is that poll up the top doing with one for me in there? I didn't even write anything for Christ's sake...[/font][/color]

[font=gothic][color=crimson]OOC: What the hell has age got to do with breaking rocks? Do you use your skin cream on it or something? Cause that stuff would have to be pretty corrosive... Do your Istari people base their age on how many boulders they whack or something? An entire race of people who grew up playing too much Whack-a-mole I'll bet... You may be a bit older than me, but...you're still outclassed.[/font][/color]