Onix

[SIZE=1][COLOR=SlateGray]As far as bugs go, I'm not really afraid of much beyond centipedes. It's not that they have so many legs (as millipedes don't scare me) or that they're poisonous (spiders and snakes don't bug me, either), but I guess it's just the combination. Plus, they always come out of nowhere. It's kind of wierd that those scare me, when nothing else similar does (I love snakes, and I'm fine with spiders and millipedes). Ah, well. Houseflies, on the other hand, don't scare me, but I hate them. They're damned annoying, wouldn't you agree? Sadly, I'm terrible when it comes to getting them out of the house - or aiming for them. Also, those...ants with wings, or whatever they are. Mildly freaky, more annoying than anything. And while I've never had any real experiences with cockroaches, I'm confident that I wouldn't like them any. Oh, and let's not forget fleas and mosquitoes. And anything else that sucks blood. So, as you can see, I'm more irked than frightened by any creepy crawlies. The worst, though, was while I was in Idaho. I don't know what's in the water in that state, but the mosquitoes there are [I]vicious.[/I] Two cans of Deep-Woods OFF! and they [I]still[/I] come at you. They can even bite through denim.[/COLOR][/SIZE]

[QUOTE]when a natural disaster happens in a foreign country that kills this many people, why do we act like we couldn't care less?[/QUOTE] [COLOR=SlateGray][SIZE=1]The short answer: Because we're human. The long answer: Humans are animals. I'm not trying to step on anybody's religious toes, but it's true. Get past our higher-level thinking, and we're just beasts based on instinct and a need to survive. And a trait about any creature that wants to survive, is that they have self-interest. Humans are selfish, and driven to focus on our lives, even if it's only on a subconscious level. This is not wangsty drama, this is not an insult towards anyone, it's simple truth. We care about ourselves more than others on an instinctual bases because, when the chips are down, we want to live. This isn't to say that we can't overcome this, or that any animal can't overcome this. Okay, back to my point. Say you're a deer, just for the sake of argument. Are you going to feel more threatened when the family 500 miles to the south is attacked by pumas, or when your family is attacked by pumas? So, are you more freaked when a country far on the other side of the globe suffers massive damage, or when your country suffers damage. We want to survive, so we care less when danger is far away. Human nature, simple fact. As you can see, it's not the modern world that's made you like this. You're not desensitized. You're just following instinct. Don't blame TV and video-games for base-line, genetic problems. Call me a nihilist, call me a hopped-up jerk, I'll just stick with realist.[/SIZE][/COLOR]

[COLOR=SlateGray][SIZE=1]"So, Mr. Dryga, tell me about these...'specters,' as you call them." A new doctor. Last one dead. Dead 'cuz Anger said so. "That's what they [I]are[/I], not what I call 'em." People never understood. Called him crazy, just 'cuz things were a little different in his world. Called him crazy, gave him medecines to make the voices go away. But never for long. Just a few days, maybe, before they came crashing back. Anger didn't like the medicine. He got real mad when Calon took them, and made sure he wouldn't again. "I'm sorry, Mr. Dryga," Doctor says, and he smiles like they all do. Like Calon's nothing but a stupid little kid. "Could you tell me when you first saw them?" "Years ago. When I was 13, I think." Answer, stay quiet, don't say anything they don't want to hear. "And what did you see?" "Me." "Just yourself? And where did you see it?" "In th' mirror." "So...couldn't it have just been a reflection?" "Wuz, at first. Then it started talkin'. Your reflection ever talk to you, doc?" He was quiet. The Sane Ones didn't like it when Crazies tried to call 'em crazy, too. "No, I can't say that it has," he answered slowly. And smiled again. Calon could feel that black, sick feeling rising in his stomach, and cast a fearful glance towards the shadows. "So, it was just you, at first?" "Yeah." "And what did it say?" "I don't remember...just some things. I was scared, of course, and told ma'. She thought I was makin' up stories again, and didn't give me dinner that night." [I]You're talking too much, Calon dear.[/I] Fear. Not Anger, like he thought. Just snakey, shadowy Fear. She was hiding in the dark corner, but Calon knew she was there, and that it was her. He felt the cold chill in his skin that always came with her. "She didn't? Did she do things like this often?" "Just...Just when she thought I was tellin' stories." [I]We don't want to hear about Mama![/I] Shame's voice, high and watery and shrill. Stepped out of the shadows in her stained and torn dress, face smeared with too much make-up, little blond pig-tails wild on her head. Her pudgy, little girl's face was twisted in offended anger. "And what did she usually do?" [I]Make him stop talking about her, Calon! Make him do it![/I] "I...I don't wanna talk about her," Calon muttered, color rising in his pale, narrow cheeks. "Can't we just talk about somethin' else?" The doctor looked startled. Of course, he would be. He couldn't hear the voices, or know just what Mama did to make the Spectres hate her so much. "Why don't you want to talk about her, Mr. Dryga?" "Because...it's makin' [I]them[/I] unhappy." The doctor smiled secretively, and his watery blue eyes glittered behind coke-bottle glasses. "So, some of them are here, now?" "...Yeah." "Which ones, Calon? What are you feeling?" "Fear. And Shame." "Shame? Are you ashamed of your mother?" [I]...astar...ill hi...[/I] [I]His[/I] voice, thick and harsh, rising from the gloom. He was coming, and with it that sick, black feeling in the pit of Calon's stomach. "No, I'm not. And I'm not 'fraid of her, neither, so don't even ask." "Then why are you feeling Shame?" "Because...you're...you're..." "What?" "You're making fun of me!" And then, all at once, he was here. Anger. Like the stench of death, or a bucket of ice water, he was just there, horrible and unpleasent and oh god what would he do this time? "I assure you, I'm not making fun of you, Calon," the doctor said, with that smarmy little chuckle they all had. [I]He [B]is[/B], Calon. Make him pay...[/I] "Yes you are," Calon said, gritting his teeth. "You think I'm just some nutjob, like everybody else. Probably think I'd do best in a straight jacket and hopped up on those pills you keep pushing at me. Isn't that right, Doc?" "I assure you, Calon, I just want to learn about your - " "My what, Doc? My 'condition'? My 'hallucinations'?" "Well, I..." "See? You do think I'm crazy. Well, you know what? Maybe I am. But I'm not gonna sit here and have you gawk at me like some fucking animal." Calon rose to leave, and he could tell that Anger was pleased. Shame was gone, at least, and that was a good sign. But Anger and Fear were still side by side in the shadows, waiting for Calon to open the door and let them out. Let them roam the world for a little bit longer. "Please, Mr. Dryga - " "Fuck you, shrink." Slam. Door closed, and Calon walking away from another quack. "The State" would just send him to another in a week or two, but that didn't matter. For now, he just wanted to get home. Get home, and sleep. Make the voices disappear for a couple of hours.[/SIZE][/COLOR]

[COLOR=SlateGray][SIZE=1]Quick question, folks, but an important one: Is anyone actually going to do their writing sample? By this, I mean the people who still haven't, of which there are quite a few. I don't mean to *****, but I'd rather like to know whether I should keep hoping to start this or not. Because if you're not going to bother to type up a few paragraphs for a sample, why bother starting the real thing, you know? I do want to start this, but not if so many people aren't going to complete their sign up. Okay, that's all I had to say.[/SIZE][/COLOR]

[color=slategray][size=1]Words: Their tears are filling up their glasses Colors: Blues and blacks[/size][/color]

[COLOR=SlateGray][SIZE=1]In my personal opinion, there are three shows that have music that truly goes above and beyond the call of duty, into just damn awesome. They manage to have soundtracks that are not only fitting for the show, but can be listened to stand-alone many, many times. The first is the famous Cowboy Bebop - no "best music" thread would be complete without it being mentioned at least 10 times. Yoko Kanno is deservingly a greatly respected composer, and the Seatbelts manage to make the show rock from [I]Tank[/I] to the [I]Real Folk Blues[/I], with numerous hits inbetween, such as [I]Mushroom Hunting [/I] and [I]Stray Dog Strut[/I]. And let's not forget the Cowboy Bebop Movie themes, [I]Ask DNA[/I] and the ending, [I]Gotta Knock a Little Harder[/I]. Second is an equally well-respected show, FLCL (aka Furi Kuri, Fooley Cooley, et al.) The Pillows busted out rocking hit after hit during this six-episode acid trip, and their music really made it all the more enjoyable. [I]Ride On Shooting Star[/I] is one of the first J-Rock songs I ever learned the words to, and [I]I think I can[/I] is easily one of my favorite songs of all time - though that may just be because I've seen it in context. Lastly is a show that's been woefully under appreciated in the music department, at least as far as I've seen. Naruto features amazing music, composed mostly by Toshiro Masuda. The background music, ranging from battle themes featuring electric guitars, shamisen, Japanese flute, and organ music, to the always amusing [I]Sexiness[/I] theme, is always top notch and really makes the show what it is. In addition, Naruto has had some of the best opening and closing scenes I've seen, with [I]Haruka Kanata[/I], [I]Viva Rock[/I], [I]GO!!! Fighting Dreamers[/I], and [I]Wind[/I] as just a few. There are, of course, many other good shows when it comes to their score, but these three will always top my list of grand musical achievements. If you're looking for an OST to buy, try these three first - I promise they won't disappoint.[/SIZE][/COLOR]

[COLOR=SlateGray][SIZE=1][B]Name:[/B] Donovan Black [B]Age:[/B] 30 [B]Job:[/B] Sophmore English Teacher by day, Aspiring Novelist by night [B]Appearance:[/B] [URL=http://www.popgurls.com/images/nick.jpg]Voila[/URL] [B]Why are you here?:[/B] Donovan isn't particularly shy, nor is he one to avoid the women-folk. However...he just doesn't have time for dating. Between teaching classes, grading homework and tests, and working on his novel, there's no room for jumping out to clubs and spending hours in hopes of snagging a pretty young thing. However, students and colleagues alike have decided that Donovan/Mr. Black is too uptight, and too stressed. Best medicine? Getting a girl. So, a flyer regarding the speed dating organization was covertly slipped into his stack of papers one night, and, of course, he found it. He knew it was a ploy by his students, who had not made their opinion unknown, but decided to go regardless. Who knows - it might even do him some good.[/SIZE][/COLOR]

[COLOR=SlateGray][SIZE=1]Emotions are a strange thing - they are ephemeral and intanglible, yet powerful and possibly life-changing. They cloud the mind and take control of the body with their subtle whispers. The blood is flooded with heat and adrenaline, nerves charged with electric fire. Love and hate. Fear and courage. Rage, sorrow, and joy. The polaric differences tug at every human heart, and our fierce natures of duality lead to conflict and strife. Emotions are such powerful things despite their lack of form, so it begs the question: what could emotions do with a body? What if your emotions could talk to you, touch you, and [I]hurt[/I] you if you didn't agree? For one unfortunate soul, his tormented mind has made this a reality. Calon Dryga has spent most of his adult life in and out of mental institutions, hospitals, and shelters. He suffers from a unique brand of paranoid schizophrenia, leading him to have often-times violent hallucinations featuring beings he regards as his emotions. He has spent years being visited by these spectres who usually coerce him into doing their bidding. Over the years, Calon's hospital visits have become less and less frequent, and less and less voluntary. The reason? Calon fears his emotions will harm him if he does, and if he doesn't do what they ask. From the advent of his schizophrenia to this day, he often engages in what appear to be self-mutilatory practices, and states that they were the spectres punishing him. His hallucinations have been growing steadily more violent, as have his actions. Recently, he left an institution after several months of medical treatment. He know spends his days in a miserable, run-down apartment in the seedy parts of town, managing to scrape up funds whenever he can. He never speaks to anyone, and has no friends or ties of any kind. His fear of retribution from his emotions is only part of it. The other side, is far more horrible. He has become a murderer. Under the fierce demands of the spectres, Calon has been forced into commiting horrible acts. His secrecy and solitude have let him keep from being noticed, and his surprisingly sound mental faculties have helped him get away with it. He would give anything to turn himself in and end the slaughter, but cannot. He knows that if he does, he will die at the hands of his own mind.[/SIZE][/COLOR] [CENTER]*****[/CENTER] [quote name='The Journal of Calon Dryga, December 11th, 1989']fears out. says i need to stop being an idiot an lissin to anger. says that if i dont, hell hurt me again. i dont want him to hurt me, but i dont wanna do what he says. he wants me to throw rocks at the old ladys house down the street, an i know its bad, but he says to. an fears right, he will hurt me. hurt me bad, like last time. still got marks from last time. maybe i should just do what he says. he wont hurt me, that way. yeah. better just do as he says.[/quote] [quote name='The Journal of Calon Dryga, March 26th, 1991']its desire this time. shes saying...bad things. real bad things. words mum says i should never, ever say, and talkin about things i read about in that dirty mag i found. shes talking about jenny, sayin i should do those things to her, and say stuff. but i know i shouldnt. shed just yell an call mr. marcus out and hed have "a talk" with me again. but desire...shes real pretty, an maybe shes right. maybe jenny would like to do those things. i dunno...[/quote] [quote name='The Journal of Calon Dryga, October 4th, 1994']i swear i didnt want to do it, but hate made me. the bad man said i was a crazy little ****, and so i hit him. hate said it was good that i done that. but the policeman said it was bad. i dont want to be bad. im not like the bad people. they say bad things and do bad things, and i just wanna make them stop. why do i do bad when i just wanna do good?[/quote] [QUOTE=The Notes of Dr. Eugene Beuler on Calon, January 18th, 1999]Patient Name: Dryga, Calon Diagnosis: Acute paranoid schizophrenia; suffers from violent hallucinations, in which he claims to interact with his emotions in the form of "spectres." They seem to sway his judgement in ways ranging from simple suggestion to threats of physical violence; the violence is how he accounts for his self-mutilation. He doesn't seem to be particularly violent against others, and is surprisingly lucid and intelligent despite his disorder. However, he speaks mostly to the spectres, and rarely to other people. He has the erratic mood swings one would expect from his condition. Suggested Treatment: A regular dosage of Haliperotal, and an extended stay in the facilities under study, with regular therapy. Prognosis: With proper medication and therapy, there is a chance that Calon could recover. However, his symptoms are quite severe, so the chance is rather slim.[/QUOTE] [quote name='The Journal of Calon Dryga, August 18th, 2005']angers back. says i gotta do it again. i know its bad, but anger doesnt like it when i say no. he does bad things. real bad. i try to lock myself up sometimes, so i cant do what he says. but he just hurts me. real bad. i...i don wanna do it anymore. but he he hes real strong, and real mean. i...i gotta. i gotta do it. more blood.[/quote] [CENTER]*****[/CENTER] [COLOR=SlateGray][SIZE=1]Fractured Mind is not going to be one of my typical RPs. No great battles, no demons, no monsters. It's more of a study into the mind of a broken man, doing his best with the odds stacked against him, and his own mind turning on him. He seeks freedom, but it is doubtful he'll ever find it. All he can hope for is a swift death at the hands of others, and do his own twisted bidding in the meantime. The main cast in this story, and the ones with all the true power, are Calon's emotions. Some were mentioned in the above diary entries; Anger, Hate, Fear, and Desire. However, any concievable emotion is fair game. And they can take any form you desire, as long as it fits their true self. Anger isn't going to be a fluffy pink bunny, nor is compassion a giant, evil-looking dragon. However, the emotions aren't the only players in this little story. Others exist around Calon, and though he may not do it often, he does acknowledge and interact with others. Others could be people who share his apartment complex, police officers investigating the recent rash of murders, or, if you're feeling generous, potential victims. Again, go wild, but keep things logical. This is taking place in New York City, so make sure everything fits. Sign-Up Sheet - [B]Name:[/B] For the Emotions, this is what the emotion is; for normal people, just a name [B]Gender:[/B] Gender for people, masculine/femenine/androgynous for the Emotions [B]Age:[/B] N/A for Emotions. Or, if you like, you could put them down as 18 (the years Calon has been "visited" by them) [B]Appearance:[/B] Pictures, or a solid written description. [B]Personality:[/B] For the Emotions, don't just put "Angry all the time" for Anger, or "Depressed" for Sorrow. Put some meat on there; just because they ARE emotions doesn't mean they're one-dimensional. [B]Writing Sample:[/B] As it's late, I'll have to edit Calon's profile later, but I'll get some basics out there first: [B]Name:[/B] Calon Dryga [B]Gender:[/B] Male [B]Age:[/B] 30 [B]Appearance:[/B] Calon is not an especially attractive man. Not to say, of course, that he is ugly, he's just not particularly handsome. In fact, he's pretty much nondescript to the point of near annonymity. This is a facet that he tries to cultivate, so that he can escape unnoticed in most situations. He likes to avoid people, and emotional attachments, as best he can to keep from hurting others, or getting hurt himself. His hair is simple black, usually limp and slightly greasy from lack of attention. He keeps it down to about ear length, and usually wears a battared black hat over it. His eyes are narrow, usually blood-shot, and a simple brown in color. He has pale skin from avoiding going outside much, and is scrawny almost to the point of emaciated, simply because he doesn't think about eating. He's stubbly because he doesn't shave much, but it in over-all good condition. As far as his wardrobe goes, Calon keeps up his annonymous fashion. Plain blue jeans and t-shirts are the order of the day, usually solid colors or whatever else he can find cheap and close-by. Most of his things are ratty and very warn in, often with dark stains that are quite probably blood, tears, or a mixture of the two. [B]Personality:[/B] Calon is an extremely introverted man, doing his best to keep from interacting with people and putting them in danger. He's silent most of the time, and always speaks in a calm, soft tone. Nearly all the time, he seems reserved and emotionless, doing whatever jobs he has with cold, detatched efficiency. However, there are times in which he becomes quite emotional. During interactions with his Emotions, Calon is predictably afflicted with extreme moodswings, shifting based on which spectres are present. When he interacts with them, though, he is usually afraid, confused, or angry. He's often reduced to fits of tears or screaming matches with them, often frightening people in the neighbouring rooms of his aparetment. [B]Writing Sample:[/B] Calon sat quiet and huddled in a dark corner of his dirty apartment. Broken pieces of wood and glass were strewn about him, and a fierce dark shadow loomed over him. The vague dark shape seemed to radiate raw power, and undiluted fury. It spoke with a hard, oily voice that quaked with rage and hatred. Calon shivered as that voice crashed over him like a wave. [B]I said do it again, Calon![/B] The small, pale man turned to the hallucination - that's what the doctors said it was - and managed to squeak out a single sentence. "I...I don't w-want to..." [B]I don't care what you want, you little sh.it![/B] Anger roared. [B]You will do as I say, or you know what will happen.[/B] Calon flinched, an ingrained response from the years of abuse he suffered at the hands of his own mind. [B]J-Just do it, Calon...[/B] It was a dry and reedy voice that spoke. Calon turned to face the speaker, and his mouth twisted into a grimace of disgust. No matter how many times he saw Pain, it still make him feel ill. The shadowy figure of Fear loomed behind the twisted freak, flanked by the small body of Shame. [B]Come on Calon,[/B] was Fear's fluid reply. [B]Do it and get it done.[/B] [B]And m-make it quick already,[/B] Shame added, her voice a watery sob. The figure of Hope flickered briefly before Calon's eyes, but it was gone as soon as he could blink. Without his strength and influence, Calon could only give in. "A-Alright...I'll do it." For this RP, I just wanted to try something different, and hopefully it'll go over well. If not...ah, well, at least I tried. Best wishes to you all, and I hope to get this thing off the ground soon. Ja ne.[/SIZE][/COLOR]

[COLOR=SlateGray][SIZE=1]Behold, the spooky imagery! [IMG]http://i2.photobucket.com/albums/y48/UnbornLordXion/if_you_want_to.png[/IMG] Spooky, ain't it? Well, okay, no... Words: Sex, Drugs, and Rock n' Roll Color Scheme: Hot colors[/SIZE][/COLOR]

[color=slategray][size=1]Next up... [b]Words:[/b] Conquered by Love [b]Colors:[/b] Red, Black, and White[/size][/color]

[COLOR=SlateGray][SIZE=1]Well, I made this for the Image Contest going on, but someone beat me to posting it. So, I'll just show it off here. Well, not show off as much as show the crappiness. I was going for symbolic and thematic and...I don't think I pulled it off. But I DO like that font. I must use that font more. And I'm just noticing how the background screwed up...it was supposed to be see through, but instead it's...blue? Anyone know what the deal is with that? *knows nothing of the finer points of PhotoShop Pro* [B]Thug-Life[/B] [IMG]http://i2.photobucket.com/albums/y48/UnbornLordXion/thug-life.png[/IMG] Also, I guess I'll post this. My first effort in background removal, in fact. Unfortunately, the stock wasn't off the best quality, hence the odd pixelly-coloring. Ah, well. [B]Lei-Fang[/B] [IMG]http://i2.photobucket.com/albums/y48/UnbornLordXion/lei-fang.png[/IMG] Comments? Doubt it...[/SIZE][/COLOR]

[COLOR=SlateGray][SIZE=1][URL=http://i2.photobucket.com/albums/y48/UnbornLordXion/Legionnaires/Z.jpg]Z, Master of Espionage[/URL] Yes, I know, it's not a picture of Z. I have no talent in drawing such things, so I use what little talent I have in ways I have them. The lyrics are appropriate for the master theif/spy/assassin, don't you think? Actually, I can invision him hacking into a building's security system and replacing the camera feed with static overlayed by those song lyircs. I'm pondering doing others in this symbolic/abstract sort of style, images for each of the legionnaires. Could be interesting... Eh, just felt like contributing something. Ja ne.[/SIZE][/COLOR]

[COLOR=SlateGray][SIZE=1]I'm a human.[/SIZE][/COLOR]

[COLOR=SlateGray][SIZE=1]Two words: George, Washington[/SIZE][/COLOR]

[COLOR=SlateGray][SIZE=1]Grube. Yeah, you heard me. My name is one letter away from a baby beetle. In fact, it used to be Grubb two or three generations ago, but my (Great-)Grandfather had to change it or else my (Great-)Grandmother wouldn't marry him, because she liked to garden so much. Actually, I've never really gotten much crap for it. Well, except one thing. At one school, they never spelt my name right on my ID card. Never. "Grape" and "Group" are the ones that stick out in my mind at the moment. I mean, it wasn't really annoying, more...amusing. So, that's the story of my wierd name. At least I've gotten better than my mom, who's last name was "Horn". Her nickname (even among teachers) was "Horny-Toad." Needless to say, her father made sure that didn't last long. Oh, and on the subject of name translations? My first name means "prudence." Gah.[/SIZE][/COLOR]

[COLOR=SlateGray][SIZE=1]Hmmm...a few tips, Midori-chan. "Kame" is turtle, but it's "kami" for God. Also, -dono is actually an archaic term of high respect, usually used for Daimyo (Feudal Lords) and the ilk. And, like botoman said, roku is 6, and it's ai shite iru. Other than that, it looks pretty good, and as a fellow self-taught...person...it looks like you're doing good. Much luck to you.[/SIZE][/COLOR]

[COLOR=SlateGray][SIZE=1]It was another hot day on Seiryuu's island, just like always. The sun was high, and seemed to glare down at the people below, but the calming breeze seemed to assuage some of the more horrid rays. Nontheless, most were staying indoors to avoid the flaming orb above, with some of the children at the beach, cooling off in the refreshing waters of the sea. Ginryuu was one of the former, and it was not just any building he was in. It was the gambling hall. Ginryuu had spent most of the afternoon playing kanfuda, which allowed him to focus on something less painful than heat. However, his general good luck put him in other painful situations quite often. Today did not deviate, and after his 40th win in a row, his opponents were looking fairly murderous. Ginryuu tried to laugh it off in good humour, but 10 wins later, they did not appear amused. At all. In fact, they were so unamused that the 5 large, burly fishermen/farmers/gamblers were standing to their feet and grabbing nearby blunt instruments in an attempt to beat Ginryuu's head in because he was [I]such[/I] a lucky bastard. And while Ginryuu could've quite easily taken each of them down in a matter of moments, he was still glad when Tetsuya burst in through the doors, looking for him. [B]"Ginryuu-sa~ma!"[/B] Ginryuu, and the five gamblers, turned to face the young man who stood panting in the doorway. The assassin, sensing temporary safety, responded. [B]"Doushita, Tetsuya-kun?"[/B] [B]"Man...see you...Emperor...talk...yeah,"[/B] Tetsuya panted. Ginryuu blinked, and slowly began edging away from the gamblers. They glared at him, but made no move to attack. And, once they noticed that he wasn't taking the pot from the table, they smiled and sat back down. Convinced that no threats would be made on his life, Ginryuu walked over to Tetsuya. [B]"So...what are you talking about?"[/B] he asked, feeling that his student had had enough time to catch his breath. [B]"A messenger from the Emperor is here to see you, sir,"[/B] Tetsuya said. [B]"He wants to deliver a message."[/B] [B]"Well, that is traditionally what messengers do..."[/B] the elder commented, walking out the door. Tetsuya blinked quickly, flushed a pale pink, and grumbled softly as he fell into toe with his teacher. From the short distance, Ginryuu could already see the crowd that had gathered in the town square around two magnicificant horses, both teathered in front of the local inn. Obviously, that's where the Imperial Messenger was waiting for them. As they neared the crowd, Ginryuu stopped and turned to Tetsuya. [B]"I'm going to go inside and talk to him. You are to go into the dojo and practice your swordsmanship, understood? Based on the message, I shall inform you of your next course of action."[/B] Tetsuya looked offended. [B]"B-but, Ginryuu-sama..."[/B] he began, but was swiftly cut off by Ginryuu. [B]"No buts, Tetsuya. Wait at the dojo."[/B] "...All right, Ginryuu-sama," Tetsuya said, sounding dejected. He slowly turned and walked up the dirt road towards Ginryuu's dojo. When he had gone far enough for Ginryuu to think he wasn't going to return, the warrior stepped towards the inn and walked in. There, the messenger was waiting...and so was his destiny.[/SIZE][/COLOR] [CENTER]*****[/CENTER] [COLOR=SlateGray][SIZE=1]Short, maybe, but it gets the job done. Assassins, you are to meet with your messengers. What you do with your disciples (or lack thereof) is up to you. Imi, as you are also lacking a messenger, you can make them up if you wish. Otherwise, get ready to interact. Each of you is about 5 days journey from the palace, so you'll have pleanty of time to get to know your messenger and enjoy a few scuffles - with bandits, assassins, and angry townspeople, or whatnot. To speed up character interaction, the Tiger and Tortoise are about two days apart, as are the Dragon and Phoenix. I hope to see you all soon in the imperial palace. And I dearly apologize for the lateness of this posting. I was busy today and...fell asleep very early yesterday. Gomen, gomen, gomen. -ULX[/SIZE][/COLOR]

[COLOR=SlateGray][SIZE=1][B]Code Name / Call Sign:[/B] Z [B]Gender (If Applicable):[/B] Male [B]Location:[/B] Though his precise location is unknown, he was seen two days ago leaving Beunos Aires, Argentina, in an unliscenced black Mazda Miata going at approximately 80 miles per hour on average. Given prior knowledge of his traveling speed and style, it is believe that he is 4000 kilometers north of Beunos Aires, though could be further. [B]Age:[/B] Based on physical appearance and the length of his career, Z is believe to be in his mid-to-late 20s. The most popular guess places him at roughly 27. [B]Personal Appearance (Images are acceptable):[/B] While few photos of Z exsist due to his line of work, the few that have been taken usually prove surprisingly clear. [URL=http://photobucket.com/albums/y48/UnbornLordXion/Babes%20and%20Bishies/?action=view¤t=K.jpg]Here[/URL] is the most recent, taken by security camera after an almost-foiled theft. The red in the background, and the prevalent tinting of said color, is due to the explosive charges that he had just set off. Thankfully, the camera survived better than the rest of the room. [B]Personality/Behavior:[/B] Few interactions have occured between living people and Z, considering that he is (understandibly) reclusive, and the people he meets on a working basis usually end up...dead. However, what little of his personality that has been gathered from photos, video, and survivors seems consistant. As in the above photo, he usually acts in a jaunty, self-confidant way. His enthusiastic charm seems to radiate through film and celluloid, and like many "badboys" across the world, Z has numerous groupies. One particular instance on film records his apparent capture moments after a foiled assassination attempt in a small third-world country. As one of the government guards stands behind him, arm around his throat, muzzle of an assault rifle pointed to his temple, Z merely smiled and talked to the guard (fluently in the local language), until calmly disarming his opponent, shattering his arm in two places, and escaping under heavy fire. He has been known to prefer talking his way in and out of places rather than killing everyone in sight, and with his excellent linguistic skills, incredible charm, and high level-headedness, he is quite capable of doing it. In addition, he prefers to sneak in and disarm detection systems than simply blow them up - though he has been known to do so when pressed for time. And, like any handsome man from his line of work, he's well known as a Casanova. [B]Personal History:[/B] While Z's past is an utter enigma, major events are well documented and there are numerous theories that have been put forward to explain his past. His biography is composed purely of his known crimes, and the conjecture in-between. The first event that has been pinned on him successfully was one of the most sensational thefts to strike the world at the time. He managed to infiltrate the most state-of-the-art Weapon's Research and Developement lab in Japan, stealing hundreds of millions of dollars worth in equipment. It is widly agreed that he had spent nearly a year planning the entire thing, something that has lessened progressively through the years due to his steadily increasing technological capabilities. The numerous devices he stole from said lab have served him well the past 8 years of his career. His next move was a string of thefts through Korea and into China, taking even more millions in equiment with him. In addition, he stole several artifacts from the Forbidden Palace and several archaelogical digs elsewhere in China. After one on the Tibetan boarder, he slipped out of the public eye for a few months, and it is believed he may have gone into the mountains to train with monks of other action-adventure movie gibberish. Next, he traveled through the Middle East, commiting a few more thefts and infiltrations, and committed his first assassination on a tyrannical leader. He vanished again, this time for only 4 months, before appearing in Egypt. Several ancient Egyptian treasures were stolen and he made his way south, stealing less and assassinating more in the war-torn countries. However, groupies and less biased analysts have noted, Africa seems less oppressed since his initial sweep. It is, perhaps, one of the few good things that have been said about him. He returned to Asia several more times in the next 2 years for various technology heists and information thefts, but spent most of his time in Central and South America, infiltrating drug cabals for the government and the government in turn for others. More assassinations took place, and 15 cartels vanished thanks to his information swipes. It is believed that, during the first 4 years of his career, he ammassed more wealth than most countries. And still, he continued. The next four years met with numerous thefts in North America and Europe, and a few Eastern European assassinations. He stole the Crown Jewels in England, but returned them a week later with a cheeky note, claiming that he sold them for four million dollars and stole them once again to return them. He also stole numerous items related to Hitler during one period, and deposited them in a town square in Berlin, garnering him almost universal animosity from the German government, and many citizens, though some still think it a brilliant joke. In the past year, he has spent most of his time in South America again, "cleaning up" the nation, some feel. More dictators have vanished, and several more government officials have payed him handsome sums to infiltrate drug rings. He has even stolen Incan and Aztec artifacts from several private collections and returned them to temples of both peoples. Again, some claim that he is, or these thefts were instead perpetrated by, avengers from the grave but, again, officials disregard this as tabloid-inspired idiocy. As said, several theories have been put forward to describe his origin. Since his first heist was in Japan, some believe him to be Japanese, or at least have lived there for several years. Others think that he's South American, due to the amount of time he spends there. Some even think he's English, as he did not permanently take the Crown Jewels. And others have claimed him to be Polish or Jewish ever since the Hitler incident. It is most likely that he is American or English in origin, possibly with South American, Asian, or even African heritage. Some claim he was a martial arts prodigy in his youth, who decided to use his skills for theft and assassination. Others claim he was the son of a technology firm's owner and used his parent's money to fund his own empire. And still others claim that he is the heir to clan of mysterious assassins with mystical powers, but those are mainly disregarded as more hysteria. All that is certain is that he's skilled in combat, superb at technological dealings, and an excellent linguist, as he has been able to communicate quite adeptly with nearly every person he's come across. Few have ever met Z, and only two kinds of people have access to him at nearly any time - his clients, who he is always handy for, and...the Legionnaires. [B]Special Skills or Abilities:[/B] Z is not your average "Superhero," considering that...he has no superpowers. All of his abilities are forged from his own skills and human technology. He has had his abilities honed to a fine point thanks to years in his...less than scrupulous work, making him a very efficient spy, assassin, and thief. It is widely assumed that he has spent years training in the martial arts, and some cite his month's disappearence near Tibet as proof of that, claiming that he has studied with Buddhist Monks. Most disregard this, along with many rumors, as lunacy. Most of his power, however, comes from his tech. Most infamous of all his weapons are the sunglasses he wears, which give him not only infra-red and ultra-violet scannings, but also have heat and motion detectors built in, allowing him to be able to see at all times, and better than most. Also are the gloves, depicted in the above photo, which are outfitted with electronic pulse devices in the palms that allow him to stun anyone he comes in contact with; in addition, they have a magnetic charge that allows him to walk on ceilings and walls; his boots are outfitted with the same. In addition to these two main tricks, he has clothing that has certain devices in it wired to mask the sound of his movements, minimize the light that refracts off his body, and even covers his scent. He has a second pair of more offensive gloves, armed with retractable two-inch steel blades. Other things that have been found in his arsenal are throwing blades made of an incredibly light, sharp alloy; a certain jacket that he keeps a supply of flash, smoke, and poison bombs in; two elbow blades crafted from a similar material as his throwing blades; dual .44 calibur handguns with infra-red laser sights; sniper-rifles of varying calibers; and his personal favorite, self-created explosives that he activates using the cross-shaped necklace he wears.[/SIZE][/COLOR] [CENTER]*****[/CENTER] [COLOR=SlateGray][SIZE=1]Ratings-wise, I'm best with M, but can tone it down to PG-13, or even E on occasion. However, I have a penchent for glore and swearing, so don't count on me being child-safe. As for posting times, I can at the least get on weekly, though I'll be sure to make notice of any events that will keep me away for a week or longer. I hope my entry was up to par, and that I'll be playing in this wickedly entertaining little event. It's an RPer's dream, after all.[/SIZE][/COLOR]

[COLOR=SlateGray][SIZE=1]Well, I'm sure you'll all be pleased to know that I have every intention of getting this baby going by tonight. Which, for me, gives me about 10 hours...but let's hope it doesn't take that long, ne? And, being as there were no duplicate roles, I have to cuts to make, which makes everything easier. Watch for the beginning. Sign-ups are still open for the two remaining messengers, and...anything else that I'm forgetting. All the Kings are full, though. Right. See you all, soon...[/SIZE][/COLOR]

[COLOR=SlateGray][SIZE=1]Chad fell to one knee, panting heavily. Several deep cuts were gouged in his dark skin, and the blood dripped down with the rain water. He looked up at the Hollow-One, who seemed to still be fine. Blood was smeared across the demon's Zanpakutoh, and some was splashed onto his skull-like face. The rain slowly caused the gore to fade from his body as he called out to his opponent. [B]"Giving up, Chad?"[/B] the Hollow laughed dryly. [B]"No...I will not lose to you!"[/B] With a loud cry, Chad charged forward, pulling his fist back. As he swung forward, a full foot short of the Hollow, a bolt of energy rocketed out, colliding with the monster's shoulder. Blood sprayed into the air as he wrenched to the side, his robes tearing open. As he turned to face Chad again, his eyes burned with reknewed fury. "Clever..." [B]"Wait until I go all out! Kyojin no Yoroi...Bankai!"[/B] A flash of light suddenly surrounded Chad, causing most of the Shinigami to shield their eyes. The Hollow-One looked on, unphased. As the light faded, Chad stood coated in armor in the same color as the Kyojin no Ude, with prongs jutting off his shoulders and forming horns atop his head. He slowly slid into a battle stance, the red shimmering like blood, white glittering in the flashes of lightning. [B]"Impressive, Chad,"[/B] the Hollow said, softly. [B]"But I think I'll stick with my Shikai."[/B] The Hollow-One was on him in a flash, sword swinging towards his chest. Chad raised his arms to block, and was pushed back by the force of the cut. The teeth left dents in his armor where they struck, but didn't pierce. The Hollow let out a low growl, but it was quickly drowned out. [B]"Go, Sado-kun!"[/B] Orihime cried. Her enthusiasm was echoed by several others. However, the taicho continued to stare on grimly. The Hollow-Faced Shinigami moved forward again, raining fierce slashes down upon the fukutaicho. Scratches appeared upon the armor, but never once did Hollow's weapon break through. During one powerful swipe, Chad swept out with a hand, catching the blade between spikes. The Hollow momentarily caught off-balance, Chad brought his fist forward, driving it into the monster's stomach. Energy exploded around him, tearing open his robes around his waist. The demon let out a loud cry of pain. [B]"Did...did he finish it?"[/B] [B]"It's dead!" "Yatta, Sado-fukutaicho!" "It's over!"[/B] [B]"Yes..."[/B] the Hollow-One suddenly croaked. [B]"It [I]is[/I] over!"[/B] His hand shifted suddenly and Utsuro Kokoro's chains shot out, wrapping around the giant. The blade swung down, tearing through Chad's hand and going down into his shoulder. Blood sprayed out upon them both, and Chad slowly fell back, the spikes tearing loose from his flesh. Blood dripped slowly from the weapon, and leaked onto the stone ground. The Hollow slowly shrugged off his shirt, baring scarred, pale skin. And a thick, circular scar in the center of his back, right were a Hollow's hole would be. He slowly turned to face the crowd of Shinigami, an identically placed scar on his stomach. He glared at them with glowing scarlet eyes, and pointed the tip of Utsuro Kokoro behind him. Whisps of energy curled off of Chad, slowly being absorbed into the Zanpakutoh. His wounds began to sizzle, and the bleeding stopped as they sealed shut. [B]"Ah...so much power..."[/B] The Shinigami watched in horror, and the Hollow began to laugh.[/SIZE][/COLOR] [CENTER]*****[/CENTER] [COLOR=SlateGray][SIZE=1]As you can see, the Hollow-Faced Shinigami is extremely powerful, and more than a match for a Fukutaicho. However, just about every taicho and fukutaicho is here, so he shouldn't stand a chance...right? He is strong, fast, deadly, and (at the moment) refuses to use his bankai out of simple pride. You lot are in for a tough fight, and so am I. The Hollow-Faced Shinigami is not dying any time soon.[/SIZE][/COLOR]

[COLOR=SlateGray][SIZE=1]Okay, I'm not a Christian, but I know a little about the faith, and I'm willing to stand up for it. Besides, I love arguing. Heh.[/SIZE][/COLOR] [QUOTE=Ilium][COLOR=DarkRed] Evolution is in no way a theory. Evolution is PROVEN, it is happening all around us, it is happening AS WE SPEAK.[/quote][/color] [COLOR=SlateGray][SIZE=1]Well, it's arguable that anything's still evolving. Humans are, at the least, impeding our own evolution with the advents of technology. But that's another story for another time.[/SIZE][/COLOR] [quote name='Ilium][COLOR=DarkRed']If you wan't to believe in God it shows your ignorance. Science has proven that it is impossible to walk on water, that it is impossible to be swallowed by a whale, that it is impossible for waters to part (Although a fissure from a volcanic eruption can emulate this) and Noah's Ark was not buildable (Considering that the tech for a craft that large didn't exist until MUCH later ((Roman-era was the dawn of real ship building))) not to mention that the so-called global flood was nothing but a massive flood around the Medditteranian.[/quote][/color] [COLOR=SlateGray][SIZE=1]Note: there is a [I]reason[/I] they are called "miracles." These events occured because of God's will and God's blessing. That's how it could defy physics - it's a faith thing. I'm not saying it necessarily DID happen, I'm just saying there is the explanation.[/SIZE][/COLOR] [quote name='Ilium][COLOR=DarkRed']You used hypocrite incorrectly. You didn't even use proper grammar (Couldn't hold down that shift key long enough to finish your usless !!!!!! strings, eh?) and a lot of what you said makes no sense (Your a Christian but you belong to no religion?)[/quote][/color] [COLOR=SlateGray][SIZE=1]And you used the wrong form of "you're," genius boy. Though...you are correct, in essence.[/SIZE][/COLOR] [quote name='Ilium][COLOR=DarkRed']Lastly, the human body is a limitlessly complex organism that, basically, is a group of cells all doing their jobs. The only thing we are yet to understand is how the human mind works, for it is by far the most complex organism on the entire planet. We are hardly pitiful pieces of flesh.[/quote][/color] [COLOR=SlateGray][SIZE=1]Still you've got to wonder how our minds grew so advanced. Or how, even, we developed those necessary sensory organs. Evolution, I know...but still, it's a bit odd that we've developed so successfully, don't you think?[/SIZE][/COLOR] [quote name='Ilium][COLOR=DarkRed']If god loves us, if he's a devine being, if he's all powerful, why did he not help the Christians win the Crusades? Why did he not stop the Ottoman Muslims from taking Jeruselum and Constantinople/Istanbul? Why did he not appear to the Native Americans or the Inuit or the Aztec or the Inca or the Maya or the Aborigini or even the Greeks! God is a make-believe figment of the human imagination. Grow up. Humans are not so much God's creation as God is the creation man.[/quote][/color] [COLOR=SlateGray][SIZE=1]He doesn't help people win because he loves all mankind impartially. At least, that is my understanding. Besides...ever heard of free will? And, arguably, he did appear to those other cultures, just in different guises. Ever notice how much Zeus looks like the traditional interpretation of God? Every culture has had some kind of supreme being/beings, which could be facets of the same being, or a pantheon of angels, saints, and spirits.[/SIZE][/COLOR] [quote name='Ilium][COLOR=DarkRed']I cannot imagine a God who rewards and punishes the objects of his creation, whose purposes are modeled after our own -- a God, in short, who is but a reflection of human frailty. Neither can I believe that the individual survives the death of his body, although feeble souls harbor such thoughts through fear or ridiculous egotisms.[/quote][/color] [COLOR=SlateGray][SIZE=1]In some cases, it is fear, or even ego, but mostly, it's simple faith that a good and loving God wouldn't just let you fade into obscurity. It's hope for a just life, belief in a greater purpose, and a sense of something bigger. The faith in the after-life has been present in almost every religion, which is pretty good odds anyway, ne?[/SIZE][/COLOR] [QUOTE=Ilium][COLOR=DarkRed]It seems to me that the idea of a personal God is an anthropological concept which I cannot take seriously. I also cannot imagine some will or goal outside the human sphere.... Science has been charged with undermining morality, but the charge is unjust. A man's ethical behavior should be based effectually on sympathy, education, and social ties and needs; no religious basis is necessary. Man would indeed be in a poor way if he had to be restrained by fear of punishment and hope of reward after death. -Albert Einstien [/COLOR][/QUOTE] [COLOR=SlateGray][SIZE=1]It isn't, necessarily, a fear of punishment. It's a want to do something good. The belief that there is a Hell and Heaven may just be a tool to inforce that good should be done, not bad. God is ineffable, and thus, incomprehesible in His divine will, so how are we to know that we don't all just end up in the same place? In the end, everyone needs something to hold on to. Some belief system that gets them through the constant trials of life, whether it's the faith that your God will, in the end, grace you with a peaceful afterlife, or the cynical knowledge that you're smarter than all the suckers out there who believe in all that religious crap. You believe by not believing, and I believe by having faith in the possibility that there is more to life than facts and figures, brief life and an eternal oblivion. I may not agree with you, but I wish you well on your path. You, atheist to the core, I, a seeker of wisdom in all its guises (which sounds a little better than Integrated Polytheist...and a lot less syllabic). And that's just about all I have to say on that. -ULX[/SIZE][/COLOR]

[COLOR=SlateGray][SIZE=1]Man...been ages since I've done anything. 'Course, I only recently actually got Photoshop, and my only access prior was on the school computers. Seeing as school ended, I was PS-less, until now. Muahaha. Now, see my first Graphics set, which I call, [B]Blind but Bleed.[/B] It's not much, I know, but it's my first real venture into PSP9, so cut me a little slack. Inspired by [B]Once Upon a Time In Mexico[/B], and [B]Imi's Blog[/B]. Blind but Bleed - [IMG]http://i2.photobucket.com/albums/y48/UnbornLordXion/Banners/blindbutbleed.png[/IMG] Blind but Bleed [Dark] - [IMG]http://i2.photobucket.com/albums/y48/UnbornLordXion/Banners/blindbutbleed_dark.png[/IMG] Blind but Bleed [Hyper-Red] - [IMG]http://i2.photobucket.com/albums/y48/UnbornLordXion/Banners/blindbutbleed_hyperred.png[/IMG] As you can see, they're pretty much just simple variations on the same image, with a few minor alterations. Comments, criticisms, et al.[/SIZE][/COLOR]

[QUOTE=Aiyisha][COLOR=Indigo][SIZE=1] Semantics.[/SIZE][/COLOR][/QUOTE] [COLOR=SlateGray][SIZE=1]Aw, you beat me to it... All right, I think everyone here (except those currently engaged in the argument) agree that the metal vs non-metal argument can die now. Who, honestly, gives a flying rats behind about what the music is called as long as you like it? There are far too many genres and subgenres and macrogenres floating around these days. Can't we go back to the simple days, when things were just Rock, and Classical, and Country, and Rap, etc.? Wouldn't that make everything so much easier on everyone? However, if you insist on being bitchy about semantics...take it somewhere else. It's annoying for those of us who [I]aren't[/I] completely anal. Thank you.[/SIZE][/COLOR]

[COLOR=SlateGray][SIZE=1]Jamie said it was okay for me enter, Retri, so I hope it is. I promise I won't disappoint. Just let me know if anything needs changing, or if she fibbed. [B]Name:[/B] Donovan Black (But don't call him Donny...) [B]Age:[/B] 30 [B]Gender:[/B] Male [B]Appearance:[/B] Donovan stands an impressive 5'10", and weighs about 160, giving him a healthy build for hanging out in the wild, cultivated by weekly trips to a Judo class. His dark brown hair is fairly shaggy and reaches down a little past his shoulders, but he usually keeps it in a ponytail so it stays out of his way. His eyes seem to change color from blue to gray to green, but are usually a blue-gray. He has a fairly handsome face with narrow eyes, long thick eyelashes, and full lips. All his limbs are well preportioned, if a little long. During business hours, he usually dresses in a mildly formal style, and has no qualms about wearing a suit from time to time, though he absolutely refuses to wear a tie. His non-work clothes tend to be far more casual, generally worn in jeans and a t-shirt with his favorite leather jacket. He's somewhat notorious for wearing more jewlery than most men, including a silver cross necklace, several silver rings, a battered old bead bracelet, and a cross-shaped earing in his left ear. Few have seen it, but he has a tribal-style tattoo located just above the hem-line of his jeans. [B]Personality:[/B] Donovan is not a very memorable man. Fairly handsome, nondescript, and rather quiet, he has a tendency to slip from a persons memory in most instances. He doesn't talk much, and even when he does, his soft, deep voice often keeps him from being heard. He's generally quite laid-back, avoiding stress at all costs, and just doing his best to keep everybody happy - most of the time. When someone crosses Donovan, they usually meet his in-court personality, In court, Donovan's personality goes up a notch. Anyone who's seen him work a case knows how clever, persuasive, and powerful he can be. He is known for having an unusually high winning rate, and the ability to throw people off with his stern, detached arguing. His logical assertions, almost preternatural ability to cut off people's arguments before they make them, and intricate knowledge of any case he's involved in makes him extremely skillful. [B]Place in the Group:[/B] Donovan is a quiet man, so he's usually content to hang back and take orders, doing what's needed when no one else will. Thanks to numerous forays into the wilderness in the past, he has a good knowledge of camping and such, so he usually has advice or data that he can give out. He's a planner, and a helper, and is quite willing to stand back and let others lead - as long as he thinks they deserve it. [B]Special Skills:[/B] Since childhood, Donovan has camped, hiked, and otherwise been involved in outdoors activities. He's collected a high amount of knowledge about the natural world, and is pretty much a font for data and information, some of it useful, some of it trivial. In addition, he's a fairly good cook, and is experienced in cutting wood and cleaning meat. [B]Record of Events:[/B] Donovan said languidly on a bar stool, swirling the brandy in his hand. He took a slow sip, gazing slowly around the bar. A few familiar faces met him, but he couldn't be sure if any of them treated him as familiar. He was content in the quiet solitude, the gentle rocking of the waves and cries of the seagulls his only needed companions. The sun was high and the weather was hot, prompting Donovan to discard his jacket and simply let the warm light beat down on his broad shoulders. It was a warm, comfortable day and everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves, despite the unfamiliarity they all shared and were trying to change. Donovan had played a few quiet games of pool, but had spent most of the trips as alone as usual. He didn't really mind, though he felt a bit bemused by the whole thing. Downing the last of his brandy he rose from his seat and walked out of the bar at a leisurely gait, stepping out onto the deck. The salty spray curled up around the edge and he leaned over the railing, a cool breeze whipping through his hair, causing his hair to curl around his face. The nice feeling of the air on his face and his restless energy were the only things currently keeping him from the book he had stashed in his book, a fascinating study of serial killers, a topic that had become something of a specialty. Suddenly, the ground lurched under his feet, causing his hand to slip on the railing. His head swung forward, colliding with the cold metal of the railing, and stars exploded in front of his eyes. He staggered back and looked around, searching for the cause of the sudden crash. He looked up and suddenly noticed the dark clouds overhead, having been distracted by his own ruminations. Just as he noticed the slate gray blotches, they began to break, water starting to pour down. The winds whipped up, and Donovan made his way back to the bar. Soon after, two crewmen ran inside, followed by a downpour and a fierce crack of thunder. Donovan looked up from another glass of brandy, stunned. They began talking about sinking, storms, life jackets, and Donovan felt the color drain from his already pale face. The ship was going down. As another peel of thunder echoed, the crowd began to charge out onto the deck, scrambling for life jackets and jumping into lifeboats. Donovan was one of the last to leave, knowing that nothing good could come from such a rush. He grabbed the best-fitting life jacket he could find and climbed into a partially empty boat. The rain pelted down on his head, causing his fringe to cling to his face. Through the wind, rain, and hair he managed to reach the lowering mechanism, dropping the boat into the water. The ship gave another great, sickening lurch behind them as someone started up the lifeboat. Donovan could only give one, quiet prayer to the gods before the yacht began to sink away, their life boat pulling away as quickly as it could.[/SIZE][/COLOR]

[COLOR=SlateGray][SIZE=1][B]Name: [/B] Ginryuu Jikokuten (Surname, Given Name), goes by Ginryuu, though. [B]Age:[/B] 25 [B]Gender:[/B] Male [B]Role:[/B] Dragon [B]Appearance:[/B] [URL=http://hyung-taekim.org/displayimage.php?album=6&pos=80]Ginryuu[/URL] Ginryu stands at a fairly impressive 5'11", with a leanly muscular physique that leaves him strong, but very fast and agile at the same time. His build is well suited for his focus on movement and fluidity, without much mass to get in the way. His long hair is a soft silver color, and reaches down to about his shoulders. However, he usually keeps it tied back in a ponytail so it stays out of his brilliant green eyes. Numerous scars trace his body, but none cross his handsome face. A blue dragon, much like his nickname, lays coiled along his spine. [URL=http://hyung-taekim.org/displayimage.php?album=15&pos=7]Ginryuu's Outfit[/URL] However, Ginryuu's clothes are more of a dark, royal blue than black, and the fur ruff is absent, being instead a simple collar. However, his most notable item of clothing is the necklace that he wears at all times. Resembling a silver dragon coiled around a blue-green heart, it is forged of a rare gem and is highly valuable. Ginryuu wears it at all times, though, not because of its monetary worth, but instead because it was given to him by Shakaku. He gave her a similar one, being a red bird clutching a ruby heart in its wings. [B]Weapon:[/B] Ginryuu's favored weapon is his katana, which he forged himself. The blade is imbued with unnatural durability and sharpness, and has taken on a blue-green color. The blade is slightly waved for an increased bite. The hilt resembles a snake-like dragon slithering away from the blade, then bending around to bite itself, forming the guard from its own maw. The loop created by the silver dragon forms an even greater grip than normal. Ginryuu is known for being able to create weapons from ice, as well, so that even if he loses his favorite blade, he can still fight on with swords, shields, and shuriken. [B]Power:[/B] [I]Water Elemental Magic[/I] - Ginryuu is the unrivaled master of Water, and can manipulate the element in all its forms. From fierce torrents of water, to hot jets of steam, to glittering shards of ice, to grand tsunamis, Ginryuu uses his power to its fullest. He favorite techniques focus on the rapid creation of liquid water, but he also enjoys whipping around blades of ice and forming hard, crystaline shields. Water may not seem the strongest of forces, but Ginryuu has turned it into a deadly weapon. [I]"Dragon Boost"[/I] - Though his water magic is his greatest weapon, it is not Ginryuu's sole trick. His Dragon Boost, as he calls it, increases his physical attributes for a short time, turning him into something of a juggernaut. He gains strength comparable to three men, his skin becomes as hard as stone, and he increases in both speed and reaction time. Though this is an incredibly convinient move, it places immense stress on Ginryuu's body, so he chooses to only use it in a pinch. [B]Personality:[/B] The legendary Blue Dragon is said to be the protector of the Emperor in China, and the guardian of all the Empire. Ginryuu is quite similar, being a warrior devoted to saving his allies from harm when the need arises. If a comrade is in danger, Ginryuu is selfless, always leaping in to take their blows and keep them from death's door. Outside of battle, however, Ginryuu is far from steadfast and devoted. His three greatest passions are women, gambling, and music, and he persues each with equal fervor. The island upon which he now resides is fully accostomed to his skirt-chasing ways, the women either brushing off his advances in good humor, or giving in to his handsome face and charming nature. He is a natural born lady-killer, but must be careful, lest he be killed by his TRUE lady, Shakaku. When not training or chasing women, Ginryuu is engaged in one of three activities - playing his shamisen, at which he is quite accomplished; playing in one of the islands gaming halls, and often winning; or sleeping. His gambling habits are often sated with mahjong or hanafuda, and his tendency to win a lot makes him less than well-liked by other common gamblers. His music, however, gains him much in the way of good favour, particularly with young women. [B]Character Snippit:[/B] A cool breeze whipped through the lush green trees that dotted the island, the soft smell of flowers and sea-water mingling with the delicious scent of roasting fish. The sun was warm and bright, the sky clear and bright blue, and the wind cool and refreshing. It was a perfect day on the so-called Island of Seiryuu, and gave Ginryuu good reason to smile. The crisp sound of his shamisen mingled with the soft whisper of rustling leaves, the slow tune whisping down into the small town, the people smiling slightly as they heard the music. When Ginryuu had appeared five years ago, they thought of him as a fierce, feral warrior. Now, they knew him for what he really was - a lazy skirt-chaser who happened to be unnaturally good with a sword. He generally didn't do much around the village, but that was fine. He kept the young men busy by teaching them to use a sword when they weren't doing their chores, letting the adults get on with their lives a little more. In addition, his powers over water had provided numerous services, ranging from a consistent amount of fresh water, to hot springs, to a man who catches fish with his bare hands. As he continued to pluck the strings of his instrument, Ginryuu looked up to heavens, sighing softly. [B]"Where is that student of mine?"[/B] he murmured, voice fluid and calm. [B]"I've been waiting an hour for that kid."[/B] [B]"Oi, Jikokuten-sa~ma!"[/B] Ginryuu chuckled softly and turned to face the silver-haired teen who was running up the dirt path. He was slightly flushed, and Ginryuu thought he detected the slight smell of perfume. He grinned slightly, long fingers still curled around the neck of the shamisen that sat in his lap. Tetsuya stopped in front of his master, and paused to catch his breath. [B]"I'm very sorry, Master, I was..."[/B] [B]"...With a young woman from town, no doubt. Ah, well, I can understand. I'll just add one lap around the island instead of the usual five to your normal training."[/B] Tetsuya's face faltered slightly, but Ginryuu was distracted, finishing the tune with a flourish. He sat for a moment, last sounds from his instrument fading in the winds before turning to his disciple, smiling slightly. [B]"Well? Start running."[/B] Tetsuya sighed and turned, preparing to do the first of ten laps around the island - no, eleven. It was already looking out to be a long, long day. [B]Disciple?:[/B] But of course. I have a disciple already...nice. All the sign-ups look good so far, especially yours, Arcangel and Retribution. I'll have to wait for Sakura and Imi to finish theirs before I can pass judgement on them, but you other four are looking pretty dang good. Now, we just need a Tortoise and a couple more messengers and we're set.[/SIZE][/COLOR]