Muse

[COLOR=indigo][SIZE=1] [B]Name:[/B] Pete Stamp [B]Age:[/B] 16 [B]Codename:[/B] Pyro [B]Power:[/B] [i](Marvel character - Pyro)[/i] As his codename might suggest, Pyro has almost complete control over fire. He is invulnerable to any fire that he has placed under his mental control and has the ability to cause any fire to grow in size and intensity. He can mentally manipulate the flame to do whatever he desires. The degree of Pyro's concentration necessary to manipulate a flame is directly proportional to the size and power. However, Pyro cannot create fire himself, and for that purpose he carries around with him a pocket lighter. [B]Appearance:[/B] [URL=http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v418/zapshazam/YnM11.jpg]Pete[/URL] Extensive DNA tests have proven that Pete?s almost inhumanly green eyes are simply hereditary from some mutant relative, thus unknown. Pete stands at a normal height, around 5?9? and weighs 143 pounds. [B]Personality:[/B] Forever the innocent little boy he was brought up to be, Pete is outgoing and extremely optimistic. His serious side is seldom seen, but there is one somewhere, and it isn?t pretty. His huge, basically abnormal eyes are always wide open and alert, giving him the look of total innocence and naivety. However, just because he [i]looks[/i] naïve he most definitely is not. Pete can be hard-headed and confident, and it has been shown that it takes a while for him to openly trust anyone. [B]Bio:[/B] Peter John Stamp was born on May 20, 1991 to Betsy and Alan, a middle class family living in a nice suburb of London, England. He came second out of three children, all boys, but he never was exempted from the same amounts of love as his siblings. Both his mother and his father encouraged optimism to the fullest extent, which can easily explain Pete?s personality and his attitude towards recent events. Pete went to school and got decent grades and easily became a popular student because of his boyish good looks and his hypnotizing eyes. Nothing out of the ordinary besides those big spheres of bright green. Even so, at a young age Pete started showing an odd fondness for fire. He could sit and stare at a lit candle for hours at a time, just looking at the flame with an unreadable expression. During routine fire drills at school, Pete would get excited with the idea that something actually [i]was[/i] on fire, only to be disappointed soon afterwards. He wasn?t sadistic, but the thought of fire was a happy one. His home life was great; his brothers and parents were normal and loving. Until that one night, on the night of Pete?s thirteenth birthday he received an expensive, fancy lighter from his father. It was a tradition that had been passed down from generation to generation in the Stamp family, and Pete was absolutely ecstatic. His mother chided him not to do anything dangerous as Pete flipped the cap longingly, spinning the wheel with his thumb clumsily. A small flame sprouted out the top, flickering weakly. Grinning, Pete waved his hand over the top to astonish his younger brother. To everyone?s amazement and horror, the fire shot up into Pete?s hand and grew in intensity. He neither flinched nor cried out in pain, just watched in wonderment. Betsy screamed and fell to her knees besides her son, making for his hand. Seeing the distressed state his mother was in, Pete simply clenched his burning hand into a fist and the flame disappeared in an instant. After a few seconds of shocked silence, Betsy Stamp proceeded to fill three suitcases to the brim with clothing and pulled Pete?s brothers out the door and out of his life. His father, though confused by the recent turn of events, refused to leave Pete and decided to help his now traumatized son through anything he needed to go through. Now, for the past few years, Pete and his father have been living alone. Well off, but alone. Betsy has refused any sort of contact with the mutant that had once been her son. Pete finished school on the Dean?s List, that unique optimism covering up any sort of trauma that most boys would have been wearing on their sleeves. Pete trained himself to control his powers, discovering to his chagrin that he could not create fire mentally but only manipulate it. Only a few serious accidents have occurred, all of them when Pete was particularly mad or stressed. One such occasion was just outside of the grocery market, wherein a few boys decided to jump Pete and take his bag of soda and chips. One of them landed a square punch on Pete?s cheek. Enraged to the point of being unreasonable, Pete shoved his hand down his pocket and flipped his lighter open, using his hand to make a sort of throwing motion right above the flame. A small blast erupted in front of him and his attackers. None of them were seriously injured, only frightened. The next day, a small group of anti-mutant campaigners converged outside the Stamp home, protesting venomously against Pete. Alan Stamp, worried for his son?s safety, has considered sending Pete to the newly opened school for mutants. though he is unsure of how to contact or sign up for it as of yet.[/COLOR][/SIZE]

[COLOR=indigo][SIZE=1] [B]Name:[/B] Henry Pomeroy [B]Age:[/B] 24 [B]Sex:[/B] Male [B]Location:[/B] France [B]Appearance:[/B] [B]Personality:[/B] [B]Bio:[/B] [B]Greatest Desire:[/B] To get over his drinking problem and find someone he can be with all his life, so he never has to be alone again. [B]Greatest Fear:[/B] Pain, going through withdrawl, being alone (he has a very serious case of monophobia.) OOC: I know I'm a terrible person, but I'm afraid I'll have to finish this later... Bed time XD[/COLOR][/SIZE]

[COLOR=indigo][SIZE=1] [B]Name:[/B] Jacob Frisby [B]Age:[/B] 21 [B]Gender:[/B] Male [B]Nationality:[/B] German [B]Appearance:[/B] [URL=http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v418/zapshazam/huihiuh/jjjjjjjjjjjjjj.jpg]Jacob[/URL] Jacob stands at an average height of 5'8" tall and he holds himself up with a graceful air. His large eyes are hazel in color, and they match his very long and messy hair. He wears the same orange shirt shown in the picture, and he does own the jacket but he keeps it in a well-worn brown backpack he carries with him unless the weather calls for it. He wears regular khaki pants kept up with a black belt with specially fitted clasps to hold his Pokeballs. His boots are brown and comfortable, yet they are rugged and perfect for the outdoors. His dog tag reads ?Charlotte? to remind him of his beloved younger sister. Although it is plain and inexpensive like everything he owns, it is his most treasured possession besides his Pokemon. [B]Pokémon:[/B] Ninetails- Female Vaporeon- Male [B]Biography:[/B] OOC: Sorry, I have to go ^_^ Finish the rest tomorrow, I promise.[/COLOR][/SIZE]

[COLOR=indigo][SIZE=1] Doran leaned up against the towering window of his room, now fixed with the finest glass, watching the Knockmealdown Mountains. The Water Clan had been residing in one of Ireland's most elegant castles, the Lismore, and it had a spectacular view of the mountains and rolling woods. The sights, however, were not what Doran was interested in. The mountains housed one of the few remaining tribes of humans who had refused to escape to underground, and they had torches lit and were making their location foolishly well known. Frowning in earnest confusion, Doran pushed himself off the window, straightened out his suit, grabbed Roan and walked out of his well-furnished room. He nodded to a few lowly clan members who sat playing a game of cards nearby before pushing open the door at the end of the hallway, despite some rather uninviting moans coming from inside. Viktor Lestat was one of Doran's closest companions, and tough his skills lacked severely when compared to most of the others, he was very clever. He was handsome for a vampire and used that to his advantage. He preferred to seduce his prey, and usually it worked without fail. He would find a pretty young thing and convince her with his undeniable charm that he wasn't going to hurt her but have her as his queen. Viktor was currently straddling his newest victim, not making a sound but the girl was quite vocal. With an evil grin Doran called out jokingly [b]"No, no, you're supposed to [i]drink[/i] them, Viktor!"[/B] Viktor jumped slightly before looking over his shoulder. [B]"Oh! Doran! I was just..."[/B] Doran rolled his eyes and waved his hand at him before leaning up against the door post to wait. As the girl's confused whimper turned into shrieks of pain, Doran casually examined his trim nails with a look like both anxiety and boredom crossed together. Seconds later, Viktor pulled away from the lifeless girl and hopped out of bed, still stark naked. Realizing this, he looked around frantically for his clothes. Doran nodded pointedly to a heap of clothing by the bed. It took him another moment to pick out his from the girl's, but he stood before Doran fully clothed soon after. [B]"Sorry, sir. She started coming on to [i]me[/i] and I-"[/B] [B]'Shut up."[/B] Doran said quietly, quite aware that a large group of vampires were now gathering behind them. [B]"Yes, sorry."[/B] Viktor murmured, licking his lips to get the last of the sweet blood in a sort of nervous way. [B]"Now, tell me, Viktor. Do you know why the humans are leaving the mountains?"[/B] He asked in a deadly whisper, twirling Roan around slowly. The other vampires had started to talk amongst themselves while still watching the scene in front of them. Viktor looked down at the ground quickly, only to feel Doran's long fingers push his chin up. His dark, brown eyes stared into the mystifying silver ones dumbly, trying to find an answer. The talking behind them grew louder. [B]"Yes... Word is that Kraven is on the move and? everyone wants to stop him?or something."[/B] He mumbled, not able to tear himself from the terrifying sight in front of him. [B]"And where is my dear Kraven heading?"[/B] [B]"Australia, sir. The Dark Library."[/B] [B]"Mmm. And why didn't you tell me this before?"[/B] [B]"I...don't know, sir. We just... found out a few hours ago."[/B] [B]"Mmm, yes. And I suppose you found your wench about that time, and found that you didn't have the time to alert me?"[/B] Calm understanding layered his sweetly accented voice, having been born and raised in England. Viktor looked slightly relieved and nodded an affirmative. Doran stared at him for a little while more before turning around. By then, most of the clan was standing there looking excited. Before addressing them, Doran's frown turned up into his smirk noticeably and, gripping Roan with both hands, spun around on his heels very suddenly. Viktor's relieved expression quickly changed into one of terror as the diamond connected with his right temple with a clearly audible crack. As he fell, the other vampires gasped in surprise as the bottom of Roan shifted from its smooth, unblemished metal to a jagged point of hard ice. [B]"No! Please, sir!"[/B] Cried Viktor, clutching head and staring up at his master. [B]"You should have realized, Viktor. Had you told me of this earlier, you would have been praised and showered with the most [i]willing[/i] women."[/B] He gave a little shrug and plunged the now extremely sharp cane into Viktor's heart. After a little writhing, Viktor lay still on the ground, dead. Doran turned back to his faithful clan and smiled an almost earnest smile. [B]"Get ready, we?re heading for Australia.?[/B][/COLOR][/SIZE]

[COLOR=indigo][SIZE=1] Yes, he did make 12 Monkeys ^_^ [spoiler] And, Cavaldi was indeed Italian [i]and[/i] Jacob did actually get the girl. Not only does he say "And I got the girl!" at the end but if you look close enough you can see Angelika pulls him away to dance with him ;)[/spoiler][/COLOR][/SIZE]

[COLOR=indigo][SIZE=1] I'm sad to say I haven't seen a lot of Terry's work, but I'm a fan girl of his Monty Python days. I've been longing to see [i]Brazil[/i] and [i]Fear and Loathing in Los Vegas[/i] but sadly... I have no money. [spoiler] Yes, I hated him too. I'm not ashamed to admit that I clapped when he got shot and moaned when he popped back up again. Also... did anyone else laugh like a sadistic maniac when he killed the kitten? I did. Funniest part, besides Jacob being drunk XD [/spoiler] [/COLOR][/SIZE]

[quote name='Dragon Warrior']And dude, Heath Ledger was awesome in A Knight's Tale. Please say you haven't seen that because then you have and still say he sucks, you must suck the royal suck, milady XD[/quote] [COLOR=indigo][SIZE=1]No, I haven't. I saw him in Ned Kelly and was pretty let down. My best friend loves A Knights Tale, however, and has been trying to persuade me to watch it. I'm guessing I should?[/COLOR][/SIZE]

Loved the movie. I saw it on opening night with my best friends, only because I'm a Terry Gilliam fan girl. Ended up [i]loving[/i] it and realizing that Heath Ledger doesn't suck, like I originally thought. He actually played my favorite character. I'm seeing it again next Saturday for my birthday, but hopefully people will realize by then that the critics are wrong and that the movie doesn't suck the royal suck like they say it does and the movie will still be out in theaters XD

[COLOR=indigo][SIZE=1] [B]Name:[/B] Doran [B]Nickname:[/B] The Debonair [B]Race:[/B] Vampire [B]Age:[/B] 1233 [B]Gender:[/B] Male [B]Powers:[/B] Doran, along with his extreme speed, strength, and stamina, is a master of water. Anything from shooting high powered blasts of boiling hot water from his hands, to creating sharp, jagged pieces of ice perfect for throwing. His favorite being to create huge waves of it to drown his enemies and to make them go blind with burning steam in their eyes. Doran, with his long, skinny frame, prides himself in being the most agile of the clan leaders. Though he is lacking, compared to the others, in strength, he can wield light weapons with dangerous stealth and accuracy. [B]Appearance:[/B][URL=http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v418/zapshazam/guys144.jpg]Doran in usual attire[/URL] His bright silver eyes have a chilling effect on whomever decides to stare into them for too long. His expression is always one of cold sarcasm; his eyelids half closed at all times, his constant smirk complementing his eyes perfectly. Although extremely thin, Doran is easily one of the taller clan leaders, towering at a lanky 6'2". His short and whispy raven black hair contrasts wonderfully with his deathly pale skin. Even after his death Doran kept his appearance sleek and stylish, playing out the "stronger than he looks" to the full. His tailored suits are easy to move around him, maximizing comfort in whatever he does. [B]Weapons:[/B] Roan The sleek cane shown in the picture is Doran's main choice of weapon, and he affectionately calls it Roan. Due to his keen eye and deadly accuracy, he can wield it as both defence against close range weapons, and can hurt as much as your not-so-average staff. The cane is made of a very strong, rare metal made especially for Doran by one of the most celebrated weapon makers in history. It is extremely strong and hard to break, and the diamond on top in almost mesmorizing to whoever stares at it. It has been known the crack the skulls of vampires and kill his human prey with one swift blow to the head. There are rumors of this legendary cane, that it is impossible to break and contains more power than Doran lets on. Members of the water clan claim to have seen Doran use Roan in strange ways, from manipulating the bottom into a jagged point of ice and shooting high powered water out of the diamond set on top. [B]Personality:[/B] Doran is walking, talking sarcasm. Although not exactly cruel in any way, his dry and dark sense of humor give him a more evil persona than needed. He is able to insult even the other clan leaders without fear, even if he is the weakest physically. He was one of the youngest, most influential aristocrats of his time, and he really is able to smooth talk his way out of anything. This precious abbility, along with his fashionable tailored suits, has earned him the tile of "The Debonair." Even while fighting and hunting, he manages to stay impeccably clean. In the midst of a battle, if there is a speck of dirt on his glasses, he really would take the time to take them off, clean them, and slip them back on with an almost annoying air of pretentiousnous. He doesn't exactly think the world of himself, though he is rather pompous. He is very smart and a quick thinker, but he does have a habit of rushing into things. [B]Character Snippet:[/B] The soft patter of rain on the large windows slightly annoyed Doran, who was trying to read his book in complete silence. The candle flickered across his current page, lighting the small black words in the otherwise complete darkness. Dinner was being served across the hall. A few rather burly young men had been caught sneeking around the manor with stupid curiosity. Even with the thick wooden doors closed, Doran could hear them screaming pitiously as his clan fed. Doran preferred to wait, himself. He was very social with his clan, and they respected him, but he liked to eat alone. A sudden movement outside caught Doran's well trained eye. His concentrated frown slowly turned up into his trademark smirk. [i]"Excellent. Dinner is here."[/i] No sooner did this slow drawl cross his mind did the window shatter dramatically. A man, heavily armed with a nasty looking long sword and a few crosses hanging around his neck, burst into the room via the expensive window, scowling. Doran quickly averted his eyes, staring straight into the man's instead of the crosses, but did not stand up. He sat smirking at this rather surprised looking man, unnoticeably fingering Roan at his side anxiously. [B]"Your sons, no doubt?"[/B] Doran asked quietly, not taking his eyes off the intruder, who looked like he was ready to pounce, had he not been staring right into the pools of hypnotic silver behind Doran's glasses. He nodded slightly, gripping his hilt desperately. He hadn't been expecting something quite like this. Doran made a show of putting his hand behind his ear, frowing a little and listening. [B]"Hmm. Well, seems like you are a little late, my friend."[/B] No more screams, just the laughter of Doran's vampires. A look of terrified anger crossed the man's face, and, breaking the link between their eyes, lunged at Doran. With obvious inhuman speed, Roan's smooth shaft had knocked away the sword like a small fly and connected with the side of the man's head. He collapsed to the floor, panting, with Doran already standing with one foot on his chest and Roan's large diamond on his throat. With one quick, fluid movement the diamond seemingly slipped, caught hold of the thin necklace holding the crosses, broke it off, flung out the open window and landed back on the man's throat. All in a matter of seconds, and with one simple flick of Doran's wrist. His silver eyes lingered on the window and the thin rain seeping in, and he glanced back down, still smirking. [B]"You broke my window. Not nice."[/B] He reprimanded him dryly, raising his free hand deliacately and pointing it at the window lazily. A white mist instantly floated out of his long pointer finger and over to the shards of broken window. Once the mist reached its destination, a pane of ice easily six inches thick formed itself, covering the destroyed hole completely and effectively. The human, absolutely terrifed, stared up at Doran, desperately reaching for his sword that lay a few feet away. [B]"Do you promise not to scream?"[/B] No reply, just the horrified stare. With a slight shrug of his shoulders, Doran brought Roan up in a skillful arc and used it to hold back the human's head, the diamond probably choking him. Gracefully, Doran swooped down, his long arm still holding Roan in the same position, and stared at the man's browned neck longingly. With a soft sigh, his vampiric teeth showed themselves and dug into his jugular. A piercing scream slowly faded into silence as Doran drank the man's blood greedily. After he had sucked the man dry, Doran fell back on to his knees and survayed his prey, and then looked himself over. Not a drop of blood, and nothing out of place. Perfect. He called for a few servants to rid of the useless body, and returned to his book. [/COLOR][/SIZE]

[COLOR=indigo][SIZE=1] "I cut down trees, I wear high heels, suspenders and a bra. I wish I'd been a girlie, just like my dear Papa!" Yes, I admit it... I'm a Monty Python fangirl. I was nitpicking as I read everyone's posts and correcting them XD Sorry. My favorite movie is the Meaning of Life, closely followed by Life of Brian. I watch the shows constantly on a daily basis... and... I'm obsessed. Yus. "Lemon curry?"[/COLOR][/SIZE]

[COLOR=indigo][SIZE=1] OOC: So sorry. I really am, I just got back from vacation so I've spent most of my time away from the computer. IC: Felan bounded down the corridor, grinning slightly, his tail bobbing up and down. He was late. He knew that, but why should he care? They wouldn't leave without him or anything. Bumping into quite a few walls along the way in his anxious haste, he finally made it to the very end, where the imposing double doors stood waiting. Without stopping, he pushed them open and jumped into the room. Sure enough, he was the last one. However, he noticed uneasily most of them all turned to glare at him immeadiately. [B]"What?"[/B] He asked in a cheerful way, scratching his ear without a care. The Crow turned on him angrily, screeching. [B]"I was about to have them go on without you, WOLF! How could you even [i]think[/i] about showing up late for something as important as this!?"[/B] Felan bit his lip in a most disarming way and his tail retreated to between his legs. The Crow scowled at him for a few seconds, and hobbled away. Felan looked about him slowly, smiling slightly, and mouthed [i]"Sorry,"[/i] to the others.[/COLOR][/SIZE]

[center][COLOR=indigo][SIZE=1] [B]Spirit:[/B] Wolf (more of a wolf cub, if you will.) [B]Name:[/B] Felan [B]Gender:[/B] Male [B]Appearance:[/B] [URL=http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v418/zapshazam/26.jpg]Felan[/URL] Just imagine him with darker, grayer hair/fur, his ears covered in it and less pointy, and set more on the top his head. Felan stands at a tiny, even five feet tall, but his legs are unusually long for his short size. He has a skinny, slim frame, and his hands and feet are large and look clumsier than they are. [B]Persona:[/B] Felan is care-free and laid back to the point of extreme annoyance to the older and less patient Spirits. He is always laughing and playing with the other Spirits, never taking anything too seriously. Though, because of his even temper and good nature, most of the Spirits really do like him a lot. However, due to his childish and immature ways, he is also protected by many of the stronger Spirits. This is the reason for his rash decisions to jump at any excuse to fight or do something heroic, to prove to everyone he's quite capable of taking care of himself. [B]Abilities:[/B] Felan has very good eyesight, acute hearing, and a keen sense of smell. He can run extremely fast, thanks to his long, powerful legs.[/center][/size][/COLOR]

[COLOR=indigo][SIZE=1] Graham, stuck with no paddle from the second he climbed into the boat, had immediately begun to stroke as hard as he could at the freezing water. Though obviously not doing a huge amount of good, at least he had something to keep his mind off the impending doom and death that surrounded him. A wave rose up in front of them, striking the small rubber boat forcibly, rocking it tremendously. Graham, full aware of how much more danger he was in without a life jacket, grasped the side of the boat desperately as it sunk a little due to the large amount of water it was taking in. With his eyes clenched shut from the sting of the salt water and his head hung low from the force of the impact, Graham heard Alexander shouting over the noise. [B]"Shit! We might not be able to make it! Paddle harder, and if we tip, swim like hell to that island, okay?[/b] Graham shook his head in vain to get his damp hair out of his face and nodded brusquely to Alex, continuing his long strokes to get them farther before the inevitable capsize. Another blast of water sent the woman in front of Graham tumbling out of the boat, and when he made to dive forwards, the other man in the lifeboat grabbed him by the shoulder quickly and told him to keep paddling. Graham did as he was told, and sure enough, the other woman soon had a strong grip on the one who had fallen overboard. [B]?We?re tipping! Everyone, abandon ship, and swim like hell to the isla?? [/B] He could barely hear Alex yelling over the thunder, and Graham managed to look up just in time before the boat finally capsized, the water pulling him down with no mercy. With no life jacket to aid him in breaking the surface, Graham spiralled downwards, the unbearable coldness and shock causing him to gasp and swallow in a large quantity of sea water. Both his mind and his vision went extremely foggy, but nevertheless he kicked as hard as he could with his long, powerful legs and managed to just barely break the surface. He took in a huge breath of air, but it didn't clear up his head at all. He could hear screaming in all directions, but the thunder and crash of the waves soon drowned it all out. Kicking and swimming with all the strength he could muster, Graham barely managed to get a few feet closer to the island before the water claimed him again. [i]"Oh, Christ. I'm going to die."[/i] This message floated through Graham's mind, with felt suprisingly like cotton. [i]"I'm going to pass out and drown. What a way to go. Might as well just give up."[/i] This whole idea seemed strangely calming to Graham, but his body wasn't agreeing with his mind. His legs were still kicking as hard as Graham possibly could, and with unbelievable luck, he reached up with his right arm and felt a long strap brushing against it. Not able to think quite so clearly at this point, he simply yanked at it. To his suprise, it pulled him up slightly, not even coming under the water. [i]"Life jacket?"[/i] He kicked even harder with newfound energy, broke the surface, and grabbed onto the floating device. Sure enough, it was an abandoned life jacket. [B]"Thank [i]God[/i] for good Karma."[/b] He whispered inaudibly to himself, before wrapping both his arms around it tightly and kicking pathetically with his legs, that felt as heavy as lead, out behind him, hoping he was heading in the right direction. Sure enough, after his legs decided to quit working altogether and he felt like throwing up everything inside his stomach, Graham literally washed up on shore. He lay in the sand for a few moments before getting up on all fours and crawling to what hopefully seemed like drier land underneath a bunch of trees, still clutching the jacket that had saved his life. He saw plenty of other people washed up on shore, like him, unconscious or absolutely dazed. Half way to his destination, Graham began trembling uncontrollably from head to toe. He succeeded in his wish to throw up everything, and promptly lost consciousness straight after. He woke up some time later, not [i]as[/i] wet as before and underneath the trees he had been crawling towards. Some guy with really long hair had been lightly slapping him on the cheeks until he felt obliged to open his eyes. The man gave him a slight smile before walking off to help someone else. Quite confused, Graham just lay on his back, listening to the sounds around him. He was relieved that at least a few of them had made it alive, judging by the groans and complaints around him. He had never had such a terrible head ache in his life, and he figured it was because of the amount of time he had spent holding his breath under the water. He slowly lifted himself on his elbows, wincing at the pain in his head, when he heard the familiar voice of Alex yelling out something about him and a guy named Rhett and a woman named Annabelle. He suggested that they all find somewhere to talk, and whilst some jerk argued with Alex, Graham worried about the task at hand - standing up. With a loud groan, he managed to do it, but not without stumbling into the woman he remembered to have fallen out of the same boat he was in. With a quick apology to her while slapping a hand on his forehead, Graham walked slowly after Rhett and Alex, relieved he wasn't the only one looking worse-for-wear. A while later, he found himself sitting much more comfortably inside a warmer cave, rubbing his temples. [B]?Why don?t we go around saying our names and what we?re good at."[/B] Alex said, taking command quickly. [B]"That way we can get to know how we can utilize one another?s skills to survive. I?ll start. I?m Alexander, and I spend a lot of my free time outdoors. So I know how mother nature works, and I might be a good hunter, though I?ve never tried.?[/B] He looked expectantly behind him, straight at Graham. [B]"Oh! Is it my turn?"[/B] There were a few snickers, but Graham ignored them. [B]"I'm...um... Graham Coles, and-,"[/B] [B]"'Um'? Are you sure about that?"[/B] Interrupted the same man who had opposed Alex earlier on, but someone told him to shut up promptly and Graham continued. [B]"Well, let's see. I'm a member of the Dangerous Sports Club, and so am pretty adept at climbing things and doing stupid shit... I don't know if that will help or anything..."[/B] He trailed off, shrugging, and dropped his head to his hands.[/COLOR][/SIZE]

[COLOR=indigo][SIZE=1][B]Name:[/B] Graham Coles [B]Age:[/B] 28 [B]Gender:[/B] Male [B]Appearance:[/B] Graham towers over most of his colleagues at 6'2" and is easily the skinniest man who is perfectly healthy most people have ever had the fortune to meet. His hair is short, whispy, and is a golden shade of blond that complements his expressive gray eyes perfectly. Graham's skin is stuck permanently in a tone between pale and very slightly tan. Graham tends to dress in stylish outfits, and was wearing a white turtle neck underneath an unbuttoned suit jacket with black pants when the boat sank. [B]Personality:[/B] Graham is generally shy and quiet at the start, but he does tend to be the first one to strike up a conversation with strangers. He is quite the comedian and usually never takes things seriously until he can understand the real problem he's in. This strange naivety he possesses is much like a child's, and it started showing itself once Graham revealed himself and came out of the closet. He is very open about his homosexuality, which can obviously get him into trouble at times. [B]Place in the Group:[/B] Graham doesn't necessarily stand in the back, but during meetings he often will stay quiet and contribute just a few bright ideas. [B]Special Skills:[/B] In his free time, Graham is a fan of dangerous sports, like hang gliding and such, and his favorite is mountain climbing, which he is rather skilled at. Saying this, he can also climb easier things like trees without difficulty. [B]Record of Events:[/B] Graham stepped into the bar area, rubbing his hands together anxiously. He didn't mind boats at all, but the stormy weather was rocking the boat a little harder than Graham was comfortable with. He leaned up against the counter, smiling at the bar tender automatically. [B]"Gin and tonic, please."[/B] The man sighed slightly and walked away to get the necessaries as Graham took a seat on one of the stools. Seconds later, the boat gave a violent rock, causing Graham to grasp the counter subconsciously while casually looking around him. He recognized a few lawyers from work, but none he was extremely friendly with. Bored, he rested his chin on his hand and waited silently for his drink. He nodded in thanks when the bar tender slapped his cup down in front of him and took a tiny sip, savoring it. He didn't get much time to do so, however, as a second later two very wet looking crew members burst into the room, demanding attention. [B]"Ladies and gentlemen!"[/B] They called, and every one turned to them, looking frightened and confused. Graham simply took another drink from his cup and listened with his undivided attention. But by the time they had reached the part explaining the boat would likely sink in twenty minutes, Graham was just as panicked as the rest of them. [B]"Now, please move in an orderly fashion to the life jackets, then get into a life-boat. Four to a boat, please. Move right along.? [/B] Thus began the mad rush for the jackets and boats. One particularly large man sitting next to Graham darted straight out of his chair and into his neighbor. Now, about three Graham's could have fit inside this man alone, so once the fat man collided with him, not only was he sent crashing to the floor, but the air was knocked right out of his lungs. The man kept running, leaving a winded Graham gasping for breath on the floor. Once he managed to pull himself up, he realized with a chilly feeling he was one of the last people still not on deck, save a few old, crusty men who were convinced nothing was wrong and a family desperate to get it's child moving. Graham literally stumbled over to where the life jackets were supposed to be, groaning when he saw nothing reassuringly orange in sight. With a sympathetic look over at the struggling family, Graham tore up the steps three at a time and arrived on deck, panting. After 2 seconds of being outside, he was already drenched to the bone and shivering cold. People were still looking frantically around for lifeboats, but luckily Graham saw one quite a ways off, filled with familiar work people. He ran as fast as he could over the slippery deck, sliding precariously more than once, until he came to a stop in front of the lifeboat in question. A queasy feeling over came him when he saw four people already in the boat. [B]"Damn it!"[/B] He moaned, lightning and thunder almost drowning out his words. Alexander Koyle, a familiar face from the office, was getting ready to let the boat drop down when he saw Graham standing there, now searching wildly for another boat but finding none. [B]"Graham, get in!"[/B] He shouted over the pounding waves, while the other man on the boat shook his head vigorously, [B]"No! We'll sink! Four to a b-!"[/B] [B]"Jesus Christ, man! He's skinny as a pole!"[/B] Alexander interrupted, angrily, and without waiting for the other man to agree or argue, he reached out a hand for Graham to grab and helped him into the lifeboat. Graham fit as easily as expected, and helped lower down the boat into the water. ---------- OOC: Sorry for adding that part, Retribution. I couldn't really think of anything else and your character didn't seem like one who'd let another one die like that.[/COLOR][/SIZE]

[COLOR=indigo][SIZE=1][b]Name:[/b] Graham Iseman [b]Nickname:[/b] Gray [B]Age:[/B] 24 [B]Appearance:[/B] [URL=http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v418/zapshazam/guys102.jpg]Gray[/URL] Gray is six feet two inches tall and holds himself up with an air of great importance. [B]Weapons:[/B] Just the masterfully crafted sword shown in the picture above. It is a few inches longer than where the image is cut off. [B]History:[/B] Whenever asked about his life, Graham would always wave it off with an airy sigh of [b]"Oh, no. It's so overdone."[/B] And really, it is. So full of cliché, but I'll tell you. Graham was born to a family of rich merchants and was spoiled rotten as a boy (a trait that would plague him the rest of his days, however.) It went from the finest toys as a child, finest training in anything he could ask for as he got older (swordplay would of course be his only successful endeavor,) and of course, the finest [i]women[/i] as he became even older. In fact, his almost disgusting charm has managed to get him any woman he could ask for. However, there was reason to respect this handsome, pompous, high-class royalty. Graham was taught from the age of six the ancient skill of swordplay by some washed up swordsman who was apparently "the best money could buy." Graham learned the trick of the trade, and soon could duel with the best of them. But he didn't. Instead, he hung his ancient sword up behind his bed and focused on buying things and charming women. Until one day, that fateful day, when Graham was 21. Graham was forced to take up his sword again and protect his town from pillaging bandits. Well, he did a decent job. At least he didn't die. His family did, of course, but that's just the way these things happen. He managed to kill off the rest of the bandits before they reached the secret safe under ground where his family kept the riches, but sadly most of his friends were murdered while he focused on getting to his inheritance. But Graham wasn't a terrible person at heart. He was sad for a while, and stayed behind with the rest of his surviving neighbors to bury the dead. Soon after, Graham decided that nothing of interest was going on in his hometown anymore, so he filled a pack with as much clothing and money as he could and started off to locations unknown, with his now cherished sword in hand. And if that wasn't clichéd enough, after he ran out of money, Graham took up one assassin job for a bit of cash, liked it, and took it up for a living. In the three short years he did this, Graham became fairly well known as simply "Gray" in the underground (because the men who called upon him couldn't say "Graham" with the proper accent that the one in question was particularly fussy about) and has thought about just assassinating for life. He decided killing people is fun, but he hasn?t lost that trademark air of pretentiousness. [B]Personality:[/B] If it's been said once, it's been said a million times. Graham is pompous, snobby, and spoiled, even if he isn't the rich guy he used to be. His charm is known worldwide, able to attract the most gorgeous of women, and able to talk himself into the living room of the evil old man he was going to kill minutes later. He is usually smiling, no matter what, even while working. In fact, he usually has his "jobs" smiling when he sticks his sword into their stomachs. But that's just the kind of guy he is. Not [i]kind[/i], persay, but not a mean bastard, either. He's very outgoing, and has a rather cheery sense of humor. When he's mad, however, you might just find a sword stuck in your throat before you can say anything else. [B]Specialty:[/B] Swordplay and charm (for instance, if someone is about to do somethng rather horrible to Gray, he could probably talk them out of it if time is giving.) [B]Snippet:[/B] [i]Knock, knock.[/i] A polite tap, not too hard, but loud enough to echo through the house. Graham shook out his hair and then pushed as much of it he could behind his ears to give him a more ?innocent schoolboy? look. He heard noise from inside, which was a good sign, but took the extra time to make out his surroundings. It could have been a nice house, if the dead garden was taken care of, and the insects everywhere exterminated. Graham heard clanking directly behind the door and put on his trademark grin, placing his hands beside his back. The door swung open to reveal a man in his late forties, scowling down at the blonde haired gray eyed ray of sunshine with great distaste. The man towered over Graham, standing at least at 6?5?, and his muscles rippled through his tight shirt. Graham looked him up and down quickly and scoffed at him mentally, this was definitely the man Mr. Rut was looking for, and was paying a good deal of money to have taken care of. [b]?What d?ye want, laddie??[/B] The man asked gruffly, but his expression had changed ever so slightly. Graham was getting through. No surprises there. Graham stuck out a hand swiftly and fluidly, [B]?The name is Graham, sir. I was wondering if you could treat a tired young man on his way to a quick bite to eat??[/B] His eyes gleamed in the sunlight, showing the untrained eye perfect purity. Surely this boy had never harmed a thing in his life. The man opened his mouth, undoubtedly to say yes, but his cold, steel blue eyes drifted down to the sword at Graham?s belt. Graham noticed this quickly, and added in an undertone, [B]??Tis tough times upon us, sir. Why, I?ve been attacked no less than three times since I left home a few days ago! The last one managed to take off with the rest of my supplies. This is why I came to you, sir. Your house looked?er?inviting enough.?[/B] He laughed good-heartedly, and to no one?s surprise his charge also started chuckling. [B]?Oh, alright, son. Come on in. The inside is much nicer than the outside!?[/B] He turned around and disappeared into the gloom, leaving the entrance wide open. Graham rolled his eyes before stepping in himself. It was much nicer by comparison, full of nice furniture and artwork amazing enough to be called masterpieces. Graham raised his eyebrows, slightly impressed, and followed his job into the kitchen. The behemoth was ordering an extremely frightened looking maid to scrounge up something to eat. She nodded her head, terrified, but that wasn?t good enough. [b]?You?ll answer me when I tell you to do something for me, wench!?[/b] He shouted at her, before raising a gigantic hand and catching her in the temple with it. She crumpled to the ground, sobbing. This was enough for Graham to take. Usually, he would have waited much longer to ?take care of business? but he would make an exception. He tapped his charge politely on the shoulder. He spun around, looking positively angry. [B]?What!??[/B] Unflinchingly, Graham asked where to find the bathroom. The man?s face softened considerably as he raised his hand once again, only to point out the way. Graham waited for his head to turn the other way before drawing his sword out in the blink of an eye. Without even a surprised look on his face, Graham?s charge was dead on the ground seconds later. Graham frowned as he pulled his sword out of the man?s chest with some difficulty, and then sat down next to the maid, who was staring at her former master?s body with a mixed expression of terror and satisfaction. Without even looking at Graham, she stuttered, [B]?You?[i]killed[/i] master Dilland!?[/B] Graham smiled at her, [B]?Oh?Was that his name? My employer didn?t even inform me. And what is your name, my lady??[/B] With a confused air about her, she turned to look at the man who had just murdered another without a second glance and was now flirting with her. She was instantly caught up in his eyes. [B]?Rose??[/B] She whispered. Graham decided she wasn?t so bad looking herself, with her curvaceous body, long red hair and large brown eyes. Graham would leave the house a few hours later, feeling very happy indeed. All done! Tell me if there's anything I need to change ^_^[/COLOR][/SIZE]

[color=indigo][SIZE=1] No! Johnny is here! [center] Name: John Appearance: [URL=http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v641/ozyssite/image017.jpg]John[/URL] Gender: Male Species: Human Age: 27 Talents: Rhythm guitar, mouth organ, piano, and trombone. He?s extremely smart and can do some shapeshifting. Mainly Frankenstein. Please don?t ask. He also has some skill with corporeal linguistics. Personality: Very sharp, very sarcastic and witty, he tends to assume leader positions very easily, and as such he doesn?t follow very well at all. He?s almost a genius, and can quote Einsteinian theories of the top of his head. Whether he actually understands what he?s saying sometimes has yet to be determined. Bio: John was the youngest of three sons, born to a wealthy English businessman. As such, he was expected to be well behaved, and to let others care for all his problems for him. Being John, however, he did nothing of the sort. From the time he was five years old, little Johnny almost constantly defied his Father's orders. He played in the mud, he built things out of other things, he gave money away...when he was fourteen he actually went out and got -gasp- a JOB! As a apprentice to a SCIENTIST! AS in a WORKING job! Understandably (or so John's father thought) John's father disowned him, kicking him out of the house, and forbidding him from returning until he'd come to his senses. This meant, of course, no more money for John. That was many, many years ago now. John became quite the sucessful scientist - until he developed the formula for shapeshifting. He tested it on himself, and now has the ability to turn into Frankenstien. Ostracized from the scientific community, he did not dispair, but instead moved to Liverpool. And so, inevitably, he became poor again, wasting all of his hard earned money on fancy clothing. One day, while walking down the street, he ran into a young man who could pick up holes, and they became friends. And the rest, as they say, is history. [/center] Woot. [/COLOR][/SIZE]

[COLOR=indigo][SIZE=1] [B]Name:[/B] Lena Helus [B]Age:[/B] 40 [B]Gender:[/B] Female [B]Class:[/b] Jedi Master [B]Lightsaber:[/B] A silver/grey Lightwhip [B]Force Powers:[/B] Master Heal Force Armour Master Force Barrier Master Speed Force Wave [B]Appearance:[/B] [URL=http://www.hyung-taekim.org/displayimage.php?album=12&pos=6]Lena[/URL] Of course, you have to imagine her whip is glowing. [B]Biography:[/B] Personality: The Jedi have no emotions, but they do have opinions. Other: Other items you could have, anything else you want to add. I'll finish the rest later^_^ [/COLOR][/SIZE]

[COLOR=indigo][SIZE=1] Solomon watched uninterestedly as Ten ran about the bar, tapping the shoulders of all the avatars, whom Solomon had just noticed where all there. Something was going on, and he would be pulled into it. With a sigh, he chugged down the rest of his Smirnoffs and lit a bummed cigarette, waiting for the God of Darkness to reach him. Eventually and expectedly, Ten ran up tp him excitedly, grinning. [B]Hey, Zimmy. We got a problem outside, man."[/B] Ten patted him encouragingly on his shoulder and sped off to Becca and Julian. When Ten finally went outside, all the somewhat confused avatars stared at one another, and Solomon cleared his throat politely, earning their attention. [B]"Nobody minds, right?"[/B] He said cryptically, but the rest all understood and nodded. With a small smile, Solomon snapped his fingers very loudly, a long [i]snap![/i] echoing throughout the bar, causing even the drunks to look over in alarm. The next second, the dark sky was lit with a long sliver of lightning, and an echoing boom of thunder made even Solomon jump slightly. Rain pounded harder against the window sil, making Solomon smile even wider. [i]"Show off."[/i] Matarael sneered in the back of Solomon's head. [B]"Environment."[/B] Solomon said outloud, laughing slightly. He took his cigarette between his thumb and forefinger on his right hand, and using the same fingers on his left, moved them up and down on his cig, centimeters away from touching. It glowed a very faint shade of blue before returning to regular color. A few avatars stared at him for a second, so Solomon simply dipped the cigarette into Fallan's water and pulled it out. The tip was still on fire and the cig completely dry. [B]"Nifty."[/B] Solomon said simply, winking, and finding his way out of the bar towards Ten.[/COLOR][/SIZE]

[color=indigo][SIZE=1] Solomon leaned up against the cold bricks of his condominium building, painstakingly finishing his second-to-last cigarette, cherishing it. He promised he?d take a walk, but now he wasn?t too sure. His visiting mother had laid on the guilt and reprimanded him for being inside for so long, so, to shut her up, he said he?d go for a walk. Going for a walk, of course, meant buying another pack of his ?medicine?. However, Solomon didn?t realize that the drug store by his house would be closed, as it was rather late. [i]?She had it planned all along??[/i] He thought glumly, taking a very small drag from his cigarette. He sat there for a few more seconds, gave in to temptation, and sucked in the rest of the cig, closing his eyes in ecstasy as it filled his lungs, probably killing him. He knew he was taking advantage over the fact he was definitely the avatar of an angel, but it was his way of getting back at Matarael for ruining his life. Therefore, all the cigarettes he smoked at an unearthly rate did little to no damage to him or his body, except for his disgusting finger tips, dyed yellow from the nicotine. He chucked the spent cigarette to the ground and mashed it up with his foot, subconsciously reaching for another before realizing there was only one left. Absolutely desperate and trying his best not to just grab the little sucker, Solomon began hopping from foot to foot like a spoiled little boy. He could hear soft laughing in the back of his head, but quickly tuned out his angel, knowing he would say something along the lines of [i]?I told you so, stupid. You can?t live without these cigarettes?Just quit and you?ll be a lot happier!?[/i] It was what Matarael said every time something like this happened. Trying to keep his mind off cigarettes, Solomon desperately snapped his fingers loudly, and instantly a soothing rain storm fell around the world in front of him. Across the street and over a few buildings, he saw a drunken man stumble out of the bar and stagger down the street. [i]?Holy hell.?[/i] He thought to himself in silent realization, mentally kicking himself for not thinking of it quicker. The bar would have plenty of loose cigarettes?and drinks. Those were always fun. With a quick, safe look on both sides of the street, he jogged across and turned to the right towards the pub. The man he had seen leave his destination a second ago tumbled into him and uttered a slurred apology before jumping into a nearby alleyway, making some awful retching noises that made Solomon cringe. [i]?Okay, I wont have any drinks tonight.?[/i] He found himself thinking sagely as he continued, the sounds of the pub reaching his ears. He heard Matarael clapping sarcastically somewhere, [i]?Well, maybe just one.?[/i] He decided with contempt, and his ?other self? stopped his noises completely. Before entering the bar, Solomon lit his last cigarette (so he didn?t have to go around asking for some as soon as he got in) and pushed open the door. The smoke pleased him to no end, but the liquor stench was repulsive. There were many pretty women around, so he figured he?d have a pull at some later, after he was settled in. Not wanting to be bothered so early, Solomon stared down at the ground as he walked, knowing that if any ladies saw his eyes or his ridiculous cheeks, he?d be swamped with offers before he was ready. Solomon leaned up against the bar, smiling slightly, trying to be as polite as possible, and asked for a simple bottle of Smirnoffs then slapped some money on the counter. He took a seat while waiting for his order, taking another puff of his cig and glancing around casually before being slightly surprised by a loud yell of [B]?Matarael! Long time no-?[/B] [B]?Zimmy.?[/B] Solomon corrected whoever it was impatiently, taking another puff before swiveling around to see who it was who had recognized him. [/COLOR][/SIZE]

[color=indigo] [b]Name of Angel:[/B] Matarael - Angel of Rain [B]Name of Avatar:[/B] Solomon ?Zimmy? Zimmerman [B]Age of Avatar:[/B] 20 [B]Sex of Avatar:[/B] Male [B]Appearance:[/B] [B]Body:[/b] Solomon, or Zimmy, as he prefers, is a slight, tiny little guy. He stands at a simple 5?5? with little to no tan to be seen on his unblemished skin. He weighs about 120 pounds, only. His fingers are long and skilled, but dyed slightly yellow from his smoking addiction. He is very skinny, his legs are pretty long (long compared to how tall he is) and slim. He has absolutely no muscles whatsoever, but he can run quite fast if he feels the need to. [B]Face:[/B] His face is just plain, although somewhat longish. His cheeks are a little chubby, as Zimmy never managed to lose the baby fat there. It?s embarrassing for him, but women think it?s adorable. He also has an almost slightly hooked nose that earned Zimmy a lot of laughs as a child. [B]Eyes:[/B] This is where everything changed for Solomon. While he never did any sports during school or had the leading roles in the plays, Zimmy had his [i]eyes.[/i] They are round and big, his eye lashes long and somewhat effeminate. They are the most remarkable blue, ?Bluer than a Robin?s eggs, I tell you!? His old Jewish mother would boast to everyone she could. While this was another source of embarrassment to Zimmy, even he admits they are lovely. It has been said that you could see Solomon?s eyes through rain, snow, and the dark. [B]Hair:[/B] Zimmy has black, naturally curly hair, betraying the stereotype of his religion. Although he combs it as often as anyone, it sticks up and above his forehead, his curls out of control. [B]Clothing:[/B] Solomon has a weird habit. He wears clothing, nice enough, for sure, but clothing that is usually ill-fitting to him, making him look skinnier than he already is. He wears a long sleeved white shirt with black pinstriped jeans. Because his shirt is too small for him, the sleeves only barely go up to [i]behind[/i] his wrists. His jeans, however, seem to fit him well enough to allow him to move freely. [B]Shoes:[/B] Zimmy wears a simple pair of dark blue sneakers, tied up and almost unnoticeable. [B]Weapon of Choice:[/B] Prefers not to use weapons, primarily, but anything he can get his hands on, if needed, will work fine. [B]Power:[/B] Anything from creating a simple, calming rainstorm for soothing noises or a full on thunderstorm when the man is pissed. [B]Favorite Color:[/B] Any shade of blue. It came naturally, what with his mother ranting about his eyes all day. [B]Likes:[/B] Smoking, noises, sarcasm. [B]Dislikes:[/B] Not smoking, being alone, fire (this is strange, I know, but when I say fire I mean like?[i]fire[/i], not the little light at the end of his cigarette.) [B]Biography of Avatar:[/B] I?ll have to do this later ^_^ [B]Personality:[/B] To think of a few words to describe Solomon Zimmerman, they would probably be ?Sarcastic? and ?Passive.? Quite a dangerous combination, as the unskilled human might not be able to tell whether Zimmy is joking or really trying to make you cry. Underneath the tough façade is a man who, if he thinks he really hurt your feelings, will feel absolutely terrible about it until he can apologize for it. Empathy is his weakness, but the ladies find it absolutely adorable, like everything else about him. Solomon is not really much of a ladies man, but since all the girls around him tend to squeal about his eyes and his cheeks, he can?t help but love ?em anyways. Whenever he gets mad, Solomon can [i]get[/i] mad. Usually it?ll only evolve into a screaming match, unless the other person smartly backs down in time. [B]Mortal Enemy:[/B] Nebution - God of Science and Deception, because if he keeps all this crap up, the rain might get a little more dangerous than intended. [B]All-in-all:[/B] The cynic.[/color]

[COLOR=indigo][SIZE=1] A silent Julia, who had been close to dozing in her chair, looked up quickly at the mention of the 20th century. She had her trademark sun glasses on, one of her tricks to not let Riggs know she had her eyes closed. [B]"Yeah, I was sort of a 60's freak growin' up..."[/B] She stuttered, still tired, and was partially ignored as Riggs continued. She lowered her head again, making a chapel with her fingers and placing them on her lap. She knew all the crap Riggs was droning out...then, [B]"The Beatles! We're going to see the bloody Beatles!"[/B] Lucian shouted. For the second time in minutes, Julia's head snapped up. [B]"Sweet."[/B] She grinned, trying to hold back her obvious excitement. Being a huge 60's fan, she had obviously listened to the Beatles, and had to admit she had a major crush on Paul McCartney and thouht John Lennon was a genius. She felt honored that she had been somewhat named after a Beatles song, as well, although technically she had been named Julia beacuse of the awful cutness of saying [B]"Our children, Julia and Julian."[/B] Again, however, Riggs brushed off the interruption. Bored beyond relief and not entirely thinking about her actions, Julia spoke up. [B]"Look, Riggsy, I think we know all this stuff already, y'see, so why don't you get on with the [i]new[/i] information?"[/B][/COLOR][/SIZE] OOC: It's short, bite me : ).

[COLOR=indigo][SIZE=1] Julia twiddled with her sunglasses anxiously, biting her lip as she listened to Professor Araby talk about God knows what. She was a serious worker, obviously, but she was also rather claustrophobic, and being in an extremely crowded room like this was not a good thing. So, instead of freaking out, she thought about what she had seen earlier to keep her mind on something that didn't make her look up and see everyone. [i][b][u]Six hours before[/i][/b][/u] Julia was still standing next to Jude and Bulldog (much to Julia's distaste, as he had yelled at her just seconds before, but there really wasn't any time for trading partners, as soon after everyone's attention was on the vid screen.) Julia's sunglasses slipped down her nose naturally, and her mouth opened in silent astonishment as Dr. Rathbone looked back at her. She had seen him before, as she had worked as a techie many times, near his department. He was a scary bastard. Luckily, she managed to transfer to the main building. [B][i]"By the time you see this, I will be long, long gone. As you should've been...as all mankind should have been...[/B][/i] He droned, and Julia's hand came up to her mouth, trying to drone a gasp. It frightened her, but she couldn't tell why. Her eyes caught movement of the other screens, changing rapidly. Normally, she thought the time shifts were cool, but she didn't know why this was happening now. Some techie was explaining something, loud enough for all the agents to hear, but Julia was transfixed on the monitors. [B]"Bulldog...should I be scared?"[/B] She whispered, knowing full well that he didn't like her calling him that. He glared at her, then shrugged, [B]"Probably."[/B] [B][i][u]Present time[/i][/u][/b] The death rate had increased by the plague...the one that the Te'tani were supposed to cure. But, as luck would have it, the Te'tani were no longer there. Julia sighed, relaying this information in her head. Rathbone screwed up something serious. [B]"And so, in closing. Until the cause of this temporal shift has been discovered, I'm afraid all agents will be staying here"[/B] One huge groan swept the full auditorium, and Julia joined with. She was a newer agent, but more experienced than many, but she still had her own dorm. Sharing wasn't a good thing, especially if it was one of those serious Holiday kids. Professor Araby dismissed them, and then said something that really caught Julia's wandering attention. [B]"And I almost forgot...would agents Diamond, Forsythe, Hayes, Henderson, Jones, MaBelle, Maxwell, Rhodes and Stanley please report to Director Riggs immediately."[/B] Julia's head snapped up painfully, looking incredulously at Bulldog, who was seated nearby. How much time did she have to [i]spend[/i] with this guy?[/COLOR][/SIZE]

[COLOR=indigo][SIZE=1] Ok, cool. That explains alot. I've got a question, too. Do our people know about the Beatles? Or...what?[/COLOR][/SIZE]

[COLOR=indigo][SIZE=1]The sunlight warmed Julia Stanley?s long, stretched out legs, covered by her psychedelically bright bellbottoms, as they were the only things sticking out from underneath the large tree she was resting her back upon. Her long-sleeved, brightly colored and flower trimmed shirt, a little baggy on her slim frame, was blowing just a bit in the breeze. Her head was tilted back comfortably, and the trash from a long-forgotten lunch was still scattered around her, but she was paying half attention to the garbage to make sure it didn?t fly away into the perfect blue lake that the park skirted. And to think she might?ve had to work all day today! She smiled, her eyes glittering behind her trademark rectangular sunglasses that she wore whenever she wasn?t working on something challenging. Her eyes were focused on the playground nearby, the little children giggling as they fell off the monkey bars and slides. There were a few kids staring at her no too far away and not to well hidden. Julia was used to getting stared at, and was actually enjoying the fact that a few mothers were glaring at her most disapprovingly. Just to make them angry (or angrier) she waved at the two little girls who were gawking at her. In the sunlight, Julia saw their mother?s faces flush with anger and herd them away like sheep to the other side of the playground. Julia giggled, her usual kind of laughter, and brought her legs into a cross-legged position and watched the pretty sailboats on the serene lake. Julia didn?t know what timeline she was in, and she never bothered to find out. She liked to be oblivious to specific problems in some towns, which is why she only visited her family to visit her family and friends, then either back to work or somewhere nice. Julia messaged her fingers gently, remembering with a slight smirk the means why she was so happy to be here. Lately, she had been working as a researcher at work, and weeks had been spent researching the new project. Bulldog had been working them like cattle, not allowing breaks and everything. Julia was usually very serious and worked hard at her job, but she had exploded at Bulldog after another hour of straight working. She had never seen him look so angry, and she vowed she never would. [B]?BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP?!?[/B] Julia could?ve sworn she jumped about five feet in the air, and then scrambled to her feet. The beeping was so loud that all the children on the playground stopped what they were doing to watch. A little boy fell clean off the monkey bars and looked around, confused, as to what the noise was. Julia looked at them, amused, before going to her beeper. She frowned at first, then the incessant beeping became one, long sharp noise that grew louder every second. Lessons from the academy flashed back to her, her teacher, Professor Loretta Martin, yelling at her the same thing over and over; [B]?IF YOU EVER HERE THIS NOISE, RETURN TO TCD!?[/B] Loretta had a strange way of teaching, but it got the job done, for sure. Without another thought, Julia pressed the button on her beeper, fully away of all the stares and the astonished gasps she barely heard as the world vanished into a swirl of colors and into a dark, crowded room. There were some, [B]?Oh great, just who we need.?[/B] but Julia paid no attention, as she was suddenly knocked into by a familiar face. Jude Hayes. [B]?Hey Jude.?[/B] Julia sighed, and turned around to see if she could figure out what was going on. Bulldog was not very far from her, so she (mustering up needed courage) asked him meekly, [B]?Hey, Bulldog. What?s goin? on, huh??[/B][/COLOR][/SIZE]

[COLOR=indigo][SIZE=1] Ok...since Methuselah has John *sniff* can I have Paul for later on? I'll try to post as soon as possbile...probably after someone else does.[/COLOR][/SIZE]