The Harlequin

[font=gothic][color=crimson]If you really want to get into that, try Bach. Personally, I prefer Pachelbel though.[/font][/color]

[font=gothic][color=crimson]He could have been worse. If Jin had had Jun's full Three Ring Circus combo, he would be even cheesier. But still, I'd say the cheapest character in T3 was Dr. B. Creepy old guy.[/font][/color]

[font=gothic][color=crimson]Depression, like melancholy, can be a sweet sadness, and a wellspring to fuel the heart and soul. Cloaks have got to be the greatest garment ever made. Fear Factory and Perfect Circle aren't really gothic, neither are the Tea Party(with a few small exceptions).[/font][/color]

[font=gothic][color=crimson]OOC: I was under the impression you were dead already? IC:[I]Harlequin leaps forward and catches Spyder as she falls, gently lowering her to the ground. Given the opportunity, he centres his mind and auras and slowly enters Spyder's consciousness. The lightbearer's infection is spreading slowly, but surely. He destroys what infection he can, but the larger percentage still remains. Left no choice, he takes it into himself. The firestorm of pain that assults his keyed nerves almost leaves him breathless. Fighting for control, he gives the ravening beast now within his mind no room to grapple. More a physical threat, a Lightbearer infusion attacks and alters the mind. Which is what Harlequin is trained to combat. His mastered defences strike a firey barrier against the rampaging Lightbearer chemical. He winds it into his mind, leaving it wrapped in thought and memory. The virus responds, mutates, attacks again. Harlequin again leaves it bewildered, and closes in. He burns it out of his mind, through the malice it directs at him. Given a mirror in which to see the soul, the virus wilts away. Harlequin's eyes snap open. He no longer drifts in his own psyche, but instead lies in Spyder's arms. She looks down at him in concern.[/I] Harlequin: I'm alright my love. We should leave. How are you? Spyder: Much better. What did you do? Harlequin: Took it into myself, and used my auras to destroy it. Spyder: I really should learn all that. Time to leave then. [I]Harlequin kisses Spyder hard before they again start running.[/font][/color][/I]

[font=gothic][color=crimson]At last we discover the reason for Cloricus's absymally foul spelling and grammer... I never use the home keys. I type with whatever fingers happen to be closest. Sometimes leaves my hands in pretty strange positions, but it means I type pretty fast. And accurately too. 21st time...[/font][/color]

[font=gothic][color=crimson]OOC: We must be vampyres then. I too would like to add my apologies, but I'll make it a blanket apology. I formally offer my condolances to all members of this rpg, and doubly so to anyone who read it, not expecting to encounter something like that. My apologies also go out especially strongly to Jesus Chicken and Liamc2, who are unfortunate enough to know us. No further comment until the storyline resumes.[/font][/color]

[font=gothic][color=crimson][I]They run up, Harlequin not having much trouble letting Spyder win.[/I] Spyder: You cheated! Harlequin: Not really. I didn't lose by that much. Spyder: Oh shut up. Harlequin: True. We have more important things to do. [I]He laughs at the look in her eyes.[/I] Harlequin: Later my love. First, Athen. [I]They start off along the trail again, Harlequin feeding in excess energy to halt the flow of Lightbearer residue along his love's body. He can purge it later, but for now this will have to do.[/font][/color][/I]

[font=gothic][color=crimson]OOC: I like that, but I somehow doubt anyone else does. IC:[I]Shocked into the most pleasurable awakening he could imagine, Davien waited along time before finishing it, wanting to pleasure Spyder more than himself. And succeeding to, much to Cathos's likely discomfort. Afterwards, they lay in each other's arms, Davien murmering softly to her about how she didn't need to get inside his head to make him do that to her.[/I] Spyder: Are you complaining? Davien: Not at all.[/font][/color]

[font=gothic][color=crimson]Harlequin: Copper blooded you say? I'd like to know what they had instead of haemoglobin then? Spyder: Oh just leave it. It's time we left. Harlequin: Definately. [I]They start running, Harlequin diverting Spydre towards the mountains where he picked up Athen's trail earlier. The spiders continue after them, their unnatural speed showing their unnatural origin.[/font][/color][/I]

[font=gothic][color=crimson]Amazing I didn't realise that. Tell me then, O wise one, how the hell do I keep it transparent when I convert it to jpeg? In case you haven't noticed, you can't post psds here.[/font][/color]

[font=gothic][color=crimson]I wouldn't say entrancement is such a bad thing at times. Great poem, I like the vampyre reference especially. Damn gothicism, quit messing with my head...wait... I'll shut up now.[/font][/color]

[font=gothic][color=crimson]Hate to disappoint you, but I was working from a T3 basis. Never played 4, and I don't have an arcade nearby. And trust me, I've worked on the timing. Once I've started it, you can't get out of it with any risk to me.[/font][/color]

[font=gothic][color=crimson]What's your point. Humankind, by its very nature, walks on the razoredge of extinction. But someone, I doubt that some higher power is going to be the one to destroy us. Free will leads unequivocally towards self-destruction. If you want to predict the end of the world, at least make it somewhat believable. Superstition sees the finger of god even in trivialities, so to speak. Oh, I don't doubt that we're all going to die soon, but it certainly won't be for religious reasons. (At least, not directly.) 20th time...[/font][/color]

[font=gothic][color=crimson]Yes SuperSayian, six days. And it wasn't the time awake that messed me up, but the hour of sleep I got at the end of the six days. Has anybody else found that? That a small amount of sleep after long waking periods does more harm than good?[/font][/color]

[font=gothic][color=crimson]I signed up to your Masquerade rpg, but then I sign up to just about any fantasy rpg. But yes, your main problem is too much detail. if nothing else, paragraph things like your sign up. Make it more user friendly. Your plot isn't that bad, the last part (your story), could use a bit of work, but I still doubt it's that. Enough said. 19th time...[/font][/color]

[font=gothic][color=crimson]The best way I can define it is to recommend some of the bands. Siouxie and The Banshees, the original, or my favourites, Fallen Tears and Gossamer, would all be prime examples of goth music.[/font][/color]

[font=gothic][color=crimson]Vampyre rpgs are always good. About the only objection I have is that the first vampyre was Lilith not Cain... Name: Lacroix -Age: 85 (appears 21) -Gender: Male -Clan: MALKAVIAN (Inconnu) -Physical Description: Six feet tall, with inky black raven hair that falls to his shoulders. His eyes are a glacial blue. He always wears concealing black, with a hooded cloak that in no way hinders his movements. Mainly because his unexposed body (everything except face and hands), is a mass of twisted scars, due to an undisclosed incident in his past. -Mentle Description: Insane even by Malkavian standards. He disdains company, human vampyric or otherwise. There are a few exceptions to this rule. Should he take part in other people's lives, they will always be goths, with a rather melancholy outlook on life. In particular, a mortal he has been stalking for nearly a year now captivates his attention, and he is only waiting for the right moment to...indoctrinate her into vampyrism. Her name is Raven Sehndreamai. Athiestic existentialist, is often seen holding long discourses with himself. -History: Lacroix has no knowledge of his past, aside from the reason he can't remember anything. He was brutually attacked by a group of vampyres when he was 73, left mentally and phyiscally scarred. It is for this reason he has no memories, and is especially insane. If cornered, he can be vicious, relying more on speed and cunning (he's studied several martial arts), than strength. Basically, your average insane loner. -Physical: 2 -Mental: 4 -Social: 1 -Psychic: 3[/font][/color]

[font=gothic][color=crimson]My original intention was only to have the oval in the middle, but I have no idea how to clear th background, so I did a rather quick one.[/font][/color]

[font=gothic][color=crimson]OOC: Appreciated. Damn it, now I need to post some weird existential stuff again... Damn you EFK. Made my idea seem unoriginal. IC:[I]Lacroix focused his mind, the swirling areas that outlined his rampant insanity forming a bulwark against his incursions. He waited, patient as a spider, as the currents aligned themselves, his very mind striking against him. Lacroix fought it as he did the wraith, letting its malice wind itself into a trap. Which was his greatest mistake. The wraith, quiesant but not fully absorbed, struck into the insane parts of his mind, joining its own aberrated, ravaging tendrils onto the forces Lacroix sought to fight down. Driven almost beyond recourse, Lacroix aligned the mental equivalent of elemental mastery against the incursion, a sheer influx of willpower. Lacroix's assult faltered after mere seconds, bewildered. Rather than destroying the insanity blended with the wraith, it made it stronger. The parasitic beings, he was sure now that his insanity was a sentient existence, were feeding off him. Intrigued despite his dire circumstances, Lacroix sent a probe into the area he had never dared to enter before. What he found shocked him. The insanity was merely a screen. All drow are multitalented. With their paranoid distrust of other races, and proximity to powerful natural magic (The Underdark is home to millions of sites of radioactive magic sites. These can have somewhat strange effects, from enhancing normal objects with enchanted powers, to increasing g sensitivity to magic. Sages believe it is these sites, carefully coveted by drow, which give them their natural resistence to magic, and their aptitude for it.) All drow are gifted in both weapons and magic. They have to be, to survive the moil of social and political currents that wrend their world apart. The drow society is the most deadly to its members, out of any on earth. When Lacroix was exiled, a screen was placed over his mind. He thought he remembered the intrisical drow powers. He had no idea. What he had always considered an auramasters discipline, was now revealed to be an enchanters. The drow followed all codes of magic, wizardry, sorcery, witchcraft, divination, elemental mastery (ingrained in many drow to varying degrees), demonology, incantation based magic, necromancy, blood magic, sacrafical magic etc. Lacroix was revealed to be an enchanter. Enchanters are an ancient sect, their origins lost in the mysts of time (like all good things). Their magic tends towards the destructive, the elemental, along with psychic manipulations. They prefer to guide a conversation rather than hold one. They tend towards mysticism, and are loners by nature. Lacroix, now that hel realised it, fitted perfectly. He gasped in surprise, as the insanity drained away to a managable level. The only insane parts of his mind are the ones left from the attack. Without backing, the wraith settled, again becoming one with Lacroix's personality. Lacroix opened his eyes, to find Ilythiirtar staring at him. Lacroix rose up, centred again. He held out his hand, and a ball of lightning appeared.[/I] Lacroix: At last. Ilythiirtar: Your auras, have, changed somewhat. Are you still yourself? Lacroix: More than I ever was. Come, we shoudl return to the others. [I]They leave, Ilythiirtar still watching Lacrox warily.[/I] OOC: I swear. I can never find the right moment to throw that in. Christ its annoying. I always post it a little too late.[/font][/color]

[font=gothic][color=crimson]There's nothing wrong with classical. When you say darker, heavier, I assume you're refering to the typically German style of classical?[/font][/color]

[font=gothic][color=crimson]We'll live. This should start in the next few days. if it doesn't, someone remind me to get off my *** and do something.[/font][/color]

[font=gothic][color=crimson]Well, after spending ten minutes trying to clear the background, and giving up entirely, this was the result. Oh well. Opinions? Criticisms? (And don't tell me to smooth the edges of the oval. I already had. Damn jpeg.)[/font][/color]

[font=gothic][color=crimson]Try contracting insomnia. It works for me. Six days is my personal best... I'm so damn introverted that I don't get bored. 19th time...[/font][/color]

[font=gothic][color=crimson][I]Lacroix wakes, feeling content, but not sure way. He shifts slightly, and abruptly becomes aware of a tangle of limbs, some of them, strangely enough, aren't even his own. He shakes his head slightly to clear the last residue of sleep, then starts as he remembers. Alastuin. Out of nowhere, after so long. He silently moves closer to her, asleep in the position they so often slept in so many years ago. He smiles, and kisses her head softly, before rising. He flushes slightly, then casts around for some clothes. True to form, they are flung up against the room's wall... 10 minutes later, Alastuin awakes, and stretches like a cat. When she finds Lacroix missing, she hurriedly sits up glancing around. Lacroix is sitting in a chair in the corner, silently watching. Still with out words, he hands her some clothes. She rises, and after dressing, takes Lacroix into her arms again. After a long moment, they separate, and stare long into each other's eyes. They have still yet to say anything.[/I] Lacroix: I love you. Alastuin: I love you too. [I]Each again collapses into the other's embrace. They walk to the door, ready for some introductions, a few explanations, and then a long trek.[/font][/color][/I]

[font=gothic][color=crimson]Does anyone except me consider this incredibly amusing?[/font][/color]