Sign Up Hunter: The Reckoning

[Talon]

[center][color=crimson][i]There are things out there, things normal people can't see, can't understand, or even begin to comprehend. You could call them demons, freaks, vampires, zombies, whatever floats your boat, but in the end, it doesn't amount to a damn thing. People are sheep, they follow the leader, live by the flock. It's basic psychology. And basic psychology says 'If you can't see it, it can't hurt you.'

They're all dead wrong.

These things can hurt you. They can kill you with nothing but a thought, if they're powerful enough. And a lot of them are. Those monsters you read about in those horror novels you used to keep in the bedside drawer? The demons in your worst nightmares, taunting you, laughing at you as they tore you to shreds? Vampires, zombies, werewolves, ghosts, imps, giant hulking monsters that want to eat your face? Yeah, they're real. And they're out there. You can't see them, or when you can, they look like normal people. They're into politics, they're in the White House, they control the economy.

And there's nothing you can do about it. That's where we come in.

A long time ago, before this age of Man, this Darkness rose from the depths against the Creator, and so he gave the race of men great power, the ability to become Heroes. Man defeated this Darkness, and so lost the one thing they could all mutually focus their power on. They turned their powers to Greed.

The Creator, disgusted, turned his back on Man. His Servants felt sorry for us, for our inability not to embrace the dark side of the heroic gifts He gave us. They gave us a gift of their own, for they knew the Darkness was going to rise again.

They gave us the Messengers.

Shards of divine intelligence, of pure magic, of retribution, whatever they are, they're strong, and they've become our only hope of fighting off the nightmares you're so convinced only exist in storyland. And we need every advantage we can get in this fight. They wake us up, give us the strength we need to fight....to protect you from falling into your own Darkness. Nobody knows if the Messengers are sentient or not, if they have a plan, or if they just hit randomly. There is one thing we do know, though.

The Messengers are what turn us into The Imbued, the Hunters of the freaks you refuse to acknowledge. They give us our Edges, lend us their strength, and clear the fog of blind faith in reality from our eyes. They turn us into weapons against the darkness. Even if we don't want to heed the call.

We're here, whether we like it or not. And so are they.[/i]

[b]~~~~~~~~~CREEDS~~~~~~~~~[/b]

[b]Defender:[/b] Tough, strong, and dependable. You are the ultimate in security. Armor, wards, sheer determination, there's nothing that can take you down. However, you tend to be single-minded. As the Judge would say, dependable, but slow and stubborn.
[u][b]Virtue:[/b][/u] Zeal

[b]Innocent:[/b] Admittedly, you detest violence. You often reject carrying a gun, but when you do, it's normally to keep the Avenger from carrying it. You tell yourself that nobody needs to get hurt, that nothing needs to end in blood. You tell yourself they should be studied, first. Maybe the creatures are just trying to survive, like wild animals? Sure, you keep on saying that to yourself. You might just believe it, someday. The rest, even the Visionary, refer to you as "bait".
[u][b]Virtue:[/b][/u] Mercy

[b]Avenger:[/b] You want nothing more than to kick the monsters' asses for even -thinking- they can come onto your turf! This is -your world-, and you don't want them anywhere -near- it. If it doesn't breath, kill it. If it's got too many eyes, kill it. If its skin's too furry, kill it. Decayed? Kill it. Screw the Redeemers, you can't save what's already dead! You're strong, fast, but you tend not to think about what the consequences of your actions would be. There are few exceptions.
[u][b]Virtue:[/b][/u] Zeal

[b]Martyr:[/b] Come on out and say it. You want these things gone, and you're willing to pay the ultimate price to get them -out-! You fight on and on and on, trying to take as many of these things out before they hurt anyone else, without regard to yourself. You're resilient and agile, but seriously, -you- oughta be the "bait"!
[u][b]Virtue:[/b][/u] Mercy

[b]Visionary:[/b] One of a kind, you're the type that believes the monsters and Hunters are the next evolutionary step for mankind. Siding with the Innocent, you believe that the zombies should bear scrutiny before death. Excellent intelligence, but low in strength. You have one slight problem, though. How much intelligence does it require to know that the thing dripping blood from its fangs is out for -blood-, not a walk in the park?!
[u][b]Virtue:[/b][/u] Vision

[b]Judge:[/b] You are the judge, the jury, and the executioner of those freaks, and you let them know it. Your decisions affect the party, whether you like it or not. You side with the Avenger, though. Kill them all if they're guilty! And they are. Mostly. But you gotta lighten up, or you'll go insane!
[u][b]Virtue:[/b][/u] Zeal

[b]Hermit:[/b] Lost Creed, and with good reason. The Messengers talk to you, tell you what to do and where to go and why you need to be there, but you get serious static around any supernatural. Even other Hunters. Migraines, absent-mindedness...you stay where you are, far away from the freaks and the rest of us, so you can do your job. Here's a cell phone, man. Keep me posted.
[b]Virtue:[/b] Vision

[b]Redeemer:[/b] What the hell is wrong with you?! These things are dead, most of them want your head on a damn platter, and you want to -save- them?! Good for you. You can try to reach out and touch these things, get them on your side, but really, are you -stupid-? Getting right in the middle of a den of evil werewolves to try to show them the light? Why aren't -you- the bait?! Yours is a noble cause, perhaps the noblest. Please, just try to bear the burden of your job. It could be your last.
[u][b]Virtue:[/b][/u] Mercy

[b]Wayward:[/b] You can't turn it off. You see them all the time, everywhere you go, when you eat, sleep, cry, laugh, they're -always- there. No vacation time for you, and it's left its mark on you. You're just freakin' nuts, man. All you care about now is killing every last one of the freaks you see, consequences be -damned-. This is the Avenger on 'roid-rage. Bystanders, buildings, cars, gas lines, who cares? You killed a freak! Lucky for us, there ain't too many of this Lost Creed around.
[u][b]Virtue:[/b][/u] Vision

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Edges, Your Weapons Against the Darkness!
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[b][size=5][u]Mercy Edges:[/b][/u][/size]

[u][i]Redemption[/u][/i]

[b]Bluster:[/b] Hey, over here! Throw your voice to confuse an enemy, making an attack of theirs miss you or your friends.

[b]Insinuate:[/b] 'What have I done?'. You inflict a freak with profound feelings of sorrow, guilt, and remorse, making it difficult for them to move, let alone attack.

[b]Respire:[/b] Heal yourself or your friends of all injuries over a period of time. Even lost limbs regrow. This Breath of Life restores vitality in Hunters and mortals, but it takes the 'breath' out of the freaks, and you gotta be careful; this Edge will tire you out!

[b]Becalm:[/b] Everyone's on Prozac. Life's all right. You put out a field of instant calmness, making it difficult for -anyone- to become hostile at -all-. Even the Wayward.

[b]Suspend:[/b] Spy check! It's like a magic EMP; nobody can use otherworldly powers in a certain radius from you, but nobody can use those powers to spy on you, either. Even works dimensionally; useful in sealing portals. Watch out; it deactivates Edges, too, but that's what God made shotguns for.

[u][i]Martyrdom[/u][/i]

[b]Demand:[/b] At the cost of some pain, you can suddenly bring the hurt. It's like steroids with instant gratification and instant damnit.

[b]Witness:[/b] Costs a little of your life, but suddenly, you know that freak's weakness is his heart, and he locked it in a chest somewhere. You even know the last contact or two it had with mortals; like the banker he gave the chest to! This one tells you of the actions and contacts of a specific freak up to within a certain timeframe. Pay attention, and you might find out what makes it tick.

[b]Ravage:[/b] Gas mask, anyone? Nah, that won't help. You begin emitting an extremely potent gas that is lethally corrosive to monsters. Gotta watch out; normal mortals might be paralyzed by extreme nausea or even emotional distress. Takes a lot of your health, though; watch it.

[b]Donate:[/b] Sacrifice some of your own physical well-being to restore a friend's health. Even works on mortals.

[b]Payback:[/b] She's a bitch, and she's bringin' friends. You inflict human frailty on even the strongest of freaks. Turn 'em into a human with bits of skin hanging off of an eyeless skull, then pop'em a good one. Makes 'em so much easier to deal with, but it makes -you- easier to deal with, too. Saps your health like a semi-turned-pizzeria.

[u][i]Innocence[/u][/i]

[b]Hide:[/b] You can hide on a flat plain in broad daylight. Just don't attack anybody. Hell, you could get past Fort Knox security as long as you're careful!

[b]Illuminate:[/b] It looks like a rot, it smells like a rot, but you're still not sure it's a rot. This thing lines the auras of any freaks you see with a certain color. Each color corresponds to a certain type of freak. Guess what. It's a rot.

[b]Cleanse:[/b] Poison's got nothin' on you. 'Nuff said.

[b]Radiate:[/b] The freaks all go blind. You and your buddies give off a bright aura of light that only the freaks around you can see, making it much harder for them to hurt you. Useful for grabbing some unwanted attention, though.

[b]Confront:[/b] Stops an enemy's combat action by infusing them with the image that you are what they loved most. Some enemies succeed at attacking through this, but they do so with extreme heartbreak and reluctance.

[b]Blaze:[/b] That bonfire just got hot, man. Take a source of light, any light, and turn it into pure pain for freaks. Simulated sunlight; useful on the older bastards that won't die by normal means.


[b][size=5][u]Zeal Edges:[/b][/u][/size]


[u][i]Vengeance[/u][/i]

[b]Cleave:[/b] You either manifest a glowing red melee weapon that you and all Hunters can feel, or you can enhance a currently held one with fire-based damage. And we all know how the freaks hate fire......the weapons can be one-handed, two-handed, or even two weapons, one to a hand. you can even enhance your FIST with it!

[b]Impact:[/b] Your weapon, for one swing or shot, has the attack force of a tank moving at Mach 10. Ouch

[b]Trail:[/b] It's a GPS scanner that only you can see. You put this on a freak, and they'll start leaving a smoky trail for you to follow their movements. Useful in tracking where they've been. Maybe they'll go to a nice little den of their friends? Oooh, a nightclub.....

[b]Smolder:[/b] Who turned out the lights? You start putting out a cloud of thick, black smoke that blocks most senses, but you see through it clear as day. Useful trick for surprise attacks after the fact, or for running away. Watch out for your friends; they're stuck if you're not careful with it.

[b]Surge:[/b] Give something up to get something else. For a brief period of time, you lose a little strength, stamina, health, whatever you want, for a lot more strength, stamina, health, whatever. Put a little oomph behind that punch; you'll have bloody knuckles, but that freak doesn't have a face anymore. Fair trade? Fair trade.

[b]Smite:[/b] Point and snap boomboom. You cause spontaneous zombie combustion, but you cause interference in electronics, too. Watch out.


[u][i]Defense[/u][/i]

[b]Ward:[/b] Erect a barrier to keep the freaks at bay; it stays up as long as you focus on it, but it'll put you out like a light if you hold it up too long. Useful for running away or bottlenecking.

[b]Rejuvenate:[/b] You need to stay in the fight, this is your ticket; it's a little taxing, but it's great to watch that freak's eyes widen when the gash on your chest closes right back up.

[b]Brand:[/b] Paint a bullseye on one of the bastards. Anyone that's been Imbued can see this sucker clearly at a thousand yards, even if it goes invisible. The mark fades away after a certain period of time, depending on just how much energy you put into this.

[b]Champion:[/b] Holy hell, you look like shit. Well, that's what you want them to think. Suddenly, you -look- like the appetizer, like you couldn't lift that cannon you have tucked into your jeans pocket, and every single one of those freaks is looking at -you-. Lunch, anyone? Feed 'em their teeth when they try to take a bite.

[b]Burn:[/b] Your blood is replaced by magma, the air you breathe replaced by pure heat. Anybody touching you is burned. Badly.

[i][u]Judgement[/u][/i]

[b]Discern:[/b] Where would a fighter be if they couldn't feel their enemies around them? From sensing that a hand doesn't leave heat on a desktop to noticing that the weird guy in the corner has really sanguine breath and hasn't touched the drink in front of him. Even grants you perfectly clear sight, despite any debilitating conditions like pitch darkness. Or having your eyes torn out.

[b]Burden:[/b] Put the world on a freak's shoulders. You stare at them, and bam; they can't walk at all. They can shift their weight a little at a time, if they have any, but they're stuck in place until you look away. Here's a nine-iron; can you say 'fore'?.

[b]Balance:[/b] Level out the playing field. Turn off their power switch, and watch 'em flail. They can't turn invisible, change shape, they're stuck fighting you hand to hand. Er...claw. Whatever.

[b]Pierce:[/b] Any lie told within ten minutes stings you like an arrow. Even works on that white lie your wife told you about "dinner with Ralph. Think that hurts worse than the arrow, though. It also allows you to see the last memory of any supernatural you touch, or a specific memory about a time or place. Or person. Like Ralph.

[b]Expose:[/b] This one's nasty. See that politician up there, the one rallying for president on a gay-pride, pro-life, equality campaign? Yeah, that one, the one without a head and the freaky-ass tail. Guess what everyone in the crowd, everyone watching T.V. at home, can see? That's right. This freak's on candid camera.


[b][size=5][u]Vision Edges:[/b][/u][/size]

[b]Foresee:[/b] You know exactly what taking -either- pill will end up doing. Blue one; hey, I'm normal and I have a well-paying job. Red one; damnit, I'm a dead hero. This lets you see the outcome of an A or B situation.

[b]Pinpoint:[/b] Ding! Hit him in the left shoulderblade with a silver bullet. This highlights the weaknesses of a monster, one at a time.

[b]Delve:[/b] 'He really did know kung-fu.' This lets you see the past of a given place. Useful in determining whether or not the butler actually did it.

[b]Restore:[/b] This one's a doozy. You regrow lost limbs and mangled tissues and organs in -seconds-. Rejuvenate? No thanks!

[b]Augur:[/b] 'You will grow old, have seven children, and marry a hot actress. Just joshin'; you're dyin' in two minutes. Of bloodloss. *clickclack*' This lets you see the future of a person, place, or thing. Don't use it on yourself.

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Rules!
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1. Police are -not your friends-! Remember, to them, a corpse is a corpse, even if it was a zombie to you. Be reasonable with your gunfire, unless it's suppressed. You think they'll believe you killed that upstanding citizen because he was a vampire? Also, you never know just what the freaks have their hands into. Like the police. You know, the guys in blue with the captain whose zombie pal you whacked last week? Yeah, them.

2. Seven Edges apiece. You must have at least three Edges from your Creed Specialization, barring anyone with the Visionary Virtue, and your Creed Virtue must have the most Edges, or be even with another. Say you're a Judge, you can have 2 Mercy, 2 Zeal, and 3 Vision, so long as the two Zeal are Judgement Zeal. Or 6 Zeal and 1 Vision Edges. Not 4 Mercy and 3 Zeal.

3. Don't use your edges if you don't have to. Supernaturals, if they're near, can sense the use of certain Edges that can sense -them-. They can especially sense Edges like Cleave and Ward. And remember, -all- of the Martyr's Edges consume health to use. If you're a Martyr, you're hurting even if you use a heal on yourself.

4. Carry cash, preferably in thousands. If you do get caught by the cops, you're ninety percent of the time likely to be able fork over some serious dough and be done with it. Unless he's one of those heroic "Hah! I am Copman, here to save the day!" types. Just don't waste them. You -really- don't want to put that hair up the department's collective ass. Besides, cold hard cash doesn't leave a paper trail; you want to stay off the grid.

5. Don't kill other Hunters. End of story. Unless they've gone psycho, they're your allies. Mostly.

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Stats (the annoying required junk)
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[b]Name:[/b]Your name.

[b]Hunter-Net Name:[/b] One word you'd use to sum up your character, followed by the number that indicates when you became a member. I.E. Witness1, the founder of Hunter-Net, was the first member, and saw himself as a watcher.

[b]Age:[/b] Anywhere from 13 to 45. Younger, go insane by whatcha see. Older....I'd like to see a seventy-year old wield a gatling gun.....

[b]Hair:[/b] Duh.

[b]Eyes:[/b] Double-duh.

[b]Height:[/b] Duh.

[b]Weight:[/b] Sorry, girls.

[b]Creed:[/b] Lost Creeds are specialties; one of each, and only in the hands of a dedicated, intelligent roleplayer. PM me first, please. Otherwise, have at.

[b]Weapons:[/b] Modern (Not eighty years from now) guns, but be reasonable. Swords, daggers, and wooden stakes are also advisable. For silent, deadly kills.

[b]Edges:[/b] Your Edges over the monsters. Seven max, read the rules, and try to include what you do to activate them.

[b]Appearance:[/b] What you look like and wear. Remember, armor can save your life!

[b]Biography:[/b] Events up to just before your Imbuing. That is, when you became a Hunter.

[b]Imbuing:[/b] What happened around you when you were Imbued? Did you murder a zombie that was trashing a crowd? Or maybe you healed the freak from his ways? Mercy Virtues tend to have a healing experience, be it human or otherwise. Zeal tends to have a bloody battle, especially a Judge, with mulitple freaks in the mix, and Vision Virtues tend to have a sight-lending Imbuing. Like learning what kills -that- thing.

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My Stats
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[b]Name:[/b] Chase "Wolf" Tala Amadahy

[b]Hunter-Net Name:[/b] Shield223

[b]Age:[/b] 23

[b]Hair:[/b] Black

[b]Eyes:[/b] Brown

[b]Height:[/b] 6'6"

[b]Weight:[/b] 205 lbs.

[b]Creed:[/b] Defender

[b]Weapons:[/b] Depending on the hunt, the weapons he carries varies. He always, however, carries a loaded Colt 1911 sidearm with two extra clips of silver bullets, a collapsible spear with silver head, and several combat knives and a katana with a silvered edge. The bandolier he wears on a hunt usually has a second sidearm, several vials of blessed water, some garlic, and at least three white oak stakes. His station wagon also bears a small armory within his trunk if a hunt's objective should change unexpectedly, and all of his safehouses are stocked with ordinance and ammunition. He also always wears a thick leather coat over his outfit, both for storage and concealment, as well as a fully weighted kevlar body vest, kevlar 'knees' in his thigh-high leather boots, and titanium-plated fingerless gauntlets. It should be noted that, while not a 'weapon', Chase is highly skilled at parkour and defensive arts, including Tai Chi and CQC.

[b]Edges:[/b]

[i]Cleave[/i]- A flaming tomahawk manifests itself in Chase's hand.

[i]Ward[/i]- Chase extends one hand, uttering the word "Back!" forcefully.

[i]Discern[/i]- Chase closes his eyes for three seconds while taking a deep breath.

[i]Burn[/i]- Chase loses himself in his anger and will to fight, focusing his emotions into himself before erupting into a fierce, red glow.

[i]Smite[/i]- Chase holds aloft the rosary he wears on his wrist and thrusts it in the general direction of his target, usually with an incantation.

[i]Rejuvenate[/i]- Chase rests his hand over his heart and utters the phrase "Not yet."

[i]Burden[/i]- Chase stares at an enemy for a moment, whispering "Cast in the name of God, let the first stone be thrown by the innocent to spill the blood of the guilty."

[b]Appearance:[/b] Standing at an even six and a half feet of height, Chase has been considered an imposing figure with his stern eyes and rough dusting of facial growth. His hair, cropped short save for a single braid than hangs down over his right temple, is as black as the ravens his Native American heritage respects so much. The braid is decorated with eagle feathers and turquoise beads, while the rest of his body is extremely fit, and very athletically built.

[b]Biography:[/b] Born half-Native, half-Irish, Chase lived in a world that wouldn't truly welcome him. His mother, a Native that had gone against her father in marrying an Irish visitor, had died during childbirth, and his destitute father could not afford to take him in. Chase was then given to his grandfather, a man who took Chase and raised him under very severe conditions. Chase found respite in reading letters and entries in his mother's diary, where she spoke to him of love and her poor health at the time of his birth. Thanks to these letters, he found the strength to go on and prove his worth to his abusive, angry Cherokee grandfather.

He joined the Army at the age of seventeen, and spent four years bettering himself and growing stronger. He was never put out on an assignment, but he learned well how to handle weapons and deal with urban situations under his fellow-Cherokee commanding officer, Johnathan Beartalker, who gave Chase his nickname 'Wolf'. After rising through the ranks and achieving the rank of Staff Sergeant, he found himself approaching the age of majority and the end of his term. He was preparing to return home following his discharge on his twenty-first birthday when Beartalker approached him in the barracks and took him out to 'The Watering Hole', the only bar on base. It was there that both men were Imbued, along with most of their company.

[b]Imbuing:[/b] At a bar, celebrating the end of his term and his birthday as well as considering a re-up, when without any warning, the bartender and many of the patrons of the club suddenly transformed from normal, happy people into decaying, rotting people with rictus-grins and missing limbs. Startled to find several similar creatures in the ranks of Easy Company, their company, Beartalker and Chase stood quickly and began backing against the wall and heading for the door, discovering to their much-needed relief that all of the rest of their company were similarly affected by the revelation. Realizing that an entire company of armed soldiers could see them for what they were, the base's commander ordered an attack on the men without realizing the bar had a closed-circuit camera surveying the action. Following the massacre, most of the base's chain of command lay dead and a good portion of the men of Easy Company lay dead, though most of those dead were arguably already suffering from that condition before the battle began. Beartalker and Chase were notable among the survivors of the bloodbath, and were, pending study of the bar's security tapes, commended for actions against 'a fellow serviceman and commanding officer gone astray'. Both were issued promotions, though Chase's was only evident on his final service check. He and Beartalker remain in close contact and joined Hunter-Net at the same time, under the names 'Shield223' and 'Sword224' respectively, though Beartalker remains in the service with the Hunters of Easy Company, which has been renamed 'The Hellhunters' following a company vote. [/color][/center]

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An old idea of mine I'd revamped, retooled, and generally completely redone. I hope anyone who joins has fun and enjoys themselves; I've already got a sequel planned out if this one goes well. -Talon

[Arichan16]

[b]Name:[/b] Gwendolyn May
[b]Hunter-Net Name:[/b] Seer305

[b]Age:[/b] 19

[b]Hair:[/b] Gwen’s golden toned hair holds more of a wave than a curl. Unlike her younger sister’s hair, hers isn’t perfectly smooth unless she works on it. Slightly frizzy and a bit lack luster, Gwen has really stopped taking care of her hair as of late.

[b]Eyes:[/b] Mostly blue, but with a ring of a greenish sort of gray towards the middle.

[b]Height:[/b] 5’4”

[b]Weight:[/b] 120

[b]Creed:[/b] Martyr

[b]Weapons: [/b] Gwen has a fondness for the classics. Wooden stakes, vials of holy water, the basics. She also enjoys martial arts when she can get away with it. She’s been trying really hard to learn how to use a real sword. She’s better with daggers, to be honest. She only uses guns if she has to.

[b]Edges: [/b]

[u]Respire:[/u][I] When it only involves smaller acts of healing (or healing damage), then all she has to do is touch the injury (or freak). A blue light extends from her fingertips and fades when she removes her fingers. After that the injury heals with time, as the ability states. For healing much larger injuries, such as re-growing limbs, Gwen came up with a ‘focus word’ as she calls it. ‘Rememdium’ is latin for ‘cure’ and that is the word she uses to help focus on the larger task. While she is healing, the symbols on her arms turn to a soft blue. They sometimes will even glow is she’s focusing really hard on her healing.[/I]

[u] Hide: [/u] [I] Gwen activates her hide ability by pressing a finger to her lips in a ‘shush’ gesture.[/I]

[u]Delve:[/u] [I] When Gwen delves, she prefers to touch the person or place that she is reading. When ‘navigating’ through the time she tends to mutter words that you’d find on a remote control. These words include ‘rewind’, ‘play’, and ‘pause. [/I]
[u]Augur:[/u] [I] Much like Delve, she likes to be touching what she is reading. Also like delve, she uses the same command words. ‘Fast forward’, ‘play’, and ‘pause’. [/I]

[u]Burn:[/u] [I] Burn tends to activate itself as a defense mechanism. If she is grabbed or grappled, the burn tends to activate on its own in her panic. It’s a good reason not to sneak up on her. Grab her shoulder when she’s not expecting it and you’ll get burned.[/I]

[u]Ravage:[/u] [I] Since this is one of Gwen’s most draining power, it has the longest activation. “Sed et si ambulavero in valle mortis non timebo malum.” (Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I fear no evil.) [/i]

[u]Ward:[/u] [i]Gwen thrusts both of her arms out in front of her, palms flat facing forward. The symbols tattooed onto her arms rise up and form what looks like a spell circle. This circle is her shield.
[/i]
[b]Appearance: [/b] Gwen’s clothing tends to look very out of place on her. She has beautiful skin, stunning eyes, and hair that could look just right if it were cared for. Yet her clothes hold none of that feminine beauty. Her clothing tends to be made of thick durable materials, sometimes water (or blood) proof. She likes wearing clothes that contain a large number of pockets. She also seems to like belts, sometimes wearing two or three around her hips to carry a variety of weapons or to add more pockets. She often wears sneakers or boots, most of which look to be rather old. She also has a fondness for a variety of gloves. Mostly she wears fingerless gloves that cover her palm. If it’s time to go out and stake vampires, she tend to wear gloves that have fingers. It helps keep splinters from improved stakes out of her hands and into the freak. Another thing that seems to throw off her feminine charms happens to be a series of black tattoos that climb up her arm, spelling words in lost languages.

[b]Biography:[/b] Gwen didn’t need a father to be happy. She had her mother and her little sister. That’s all that mattered to her. She’d pick on her sister, as all older sisters do, but she never really meant it. Sibling rivalry was a continuing thing in the house, but it was always light hearted. Gwen’s family was never religious. However, Gwen had an interest in other languages. After taking Latin in High School, she ended up memorizing a bunch of the bible in Latin. Not because it was homework, but because it interested her. Some of the lines just seemed to catch her interest. She tried studying other languages, older languages. Her dream was to go to college long enough to become a translator for artifacts. She wanted to decipher the sorts of things that archeologists dug up. To her, it was exciting.

She had everything planned out… her whole future…

But then…

[b]Imbuing: [/b] One day, when Gwen was about 15, she went outside to go fetch her sister for dinner. Her younger sister, Delaney, was standing out in the yard. Her jump rope seemed to have been long abandoned in the grass. And Delaney was just standing there, staring out across the yard. A quick glance showed that Delaney was merely staring at their next door neighbor. The man had lived next to them for a few years now, so it seemed strange that Delaney would be staring at him like he was… a monster or something.

Worried, Gwen shook her sister. She spoke to her sister, told her that staring wasn’t polite. Delaney didn’t stir. So she shook her sister a little harder, told her to snap out of it. Still, nothing. That was when Gwen began to panic. She called her sister’s name, but her sister didn’t even blink. The look on her younger sister’s face was of pure terror… it looked like she’d never come back again. This worried Gwen to the point of tears. Would they have to take Delaney to a hospital? What happened?

That was when [I]it[/I] happened. Gwen just [I]saw[/I]. She saw her sister’s back as Delaney was hunched over something… another human, it seemed. It was dark, fuzzy, and hard to really see. But that was when the vision of Delaney lifted her head and stood, rather clumsily. Delaney turned and her eyes were red, blood dripping from her mouth…

Gwen didn’t remember screaming. When she snapped out of it, her mother was already standing over her. She told them nothing. It was nothing, right? She really needed to lay off of the horror movies. Yeah, that was it. It was just an overactive imagination caused by too many cheesy horror movies.

Delaney was fine after that. She didn’t seem to remember staring or Gwen coming out and shaking her. Even so, Gwen was relieved. Delaney was her usual lively self.

It was six months before her vision came true.

Gwen waved goodbye to her friends as they dropped her off at the house. It was dark outside, but she hadn’t missed her curfew just yet. She was still feeling good from that great movie her and her friends had just left. She couldn’t wait to tell her mother all about it!

She set her bag down at the door. The lights were on. So was the TV, in fact. Though it was a little quiet, nothing seemed out of place.

Gwen found them in the kitchen. Delaney was hunched over their own mother, draining her of blood.

Gwen didn’t know what to do, so she just froze in her terror. That was when Delaney stood and turned… and then lunged.

Gwen ducked out of the way quickly, racing into the next room. Delaney caught up to her quickly in the dining room, slamming her back into the table with a force that no child her age should have. The table splintered underneath the impact, imbedding splinters into the majority of Gwen’s arms and back.

Delaney went to deliver another attack, another lunge. Taking the ample warning, Gwen rolled over the splinters despite the pain it caused. Delaney’s attack missed and she lodged herself onto one of the large pieces of the table. The force of her racing forward was enough to imbed the chunk of wood into her chest. For a moment, panic entered her eyes. Then it was gone as her entire body went limp.

This left Gwen to stare at her sister, impaled on the wood from their own dining room table.

Crying, but not from the pain, Gwen inched over to the now truly dead child and touched her with caution. It was almost as though she half expected it to jump back to life. What happened?

Instantly a vision like the one six months ago seemed to flood her mind.

Their next door neighbor, invited in for dinner. Delaney speaking with him happily… and then… his fangs sunk into her neck. He didn’t look like their neighbor anymore. He was a monster! A freak! A vampire! And he turned Delaney into one of them, a monster like him. But… why?

“It’s too bad.” The voice startled Gwen out of her thoughts. It was the voice of the man who had done all this, the man to blame. Her neighbor, the vampire, stood in front of her. “If only she had taken the change better. Poor thing just couldn’t take it, she went wild.”

“W-why?” It was all Gwen could choke out in her grief and in her terror.

“Why? Because she would have made a great daughter, that’s why. Imagine this: a young girl witnesses the murder of her family and races over to the next door neighbor’s house for safety. Then, after calling the police, the generous neighbor offers to take care of the poor child. The child, unable to truly cope, passed away a year later. But no one will forget the kindness of the man that took her in. No one.”

“You… you were going to… just kill her anyway?”

“Of course. They’d notice if she never aged. She’d just be a quick way to raise my status in this pathetic little city.”

And that was it. Without thinking, Gwen grabbed a hunk of wood from the destroyed table and lunged.

Of course, the vampire was quicker. He grabbed her hand and held on to her… hard. With a flick of his wrist came a sickening ‘snap’ and Gwen cried out in pain as her arm broke.

But the vampire cried out in an equal amount of pain, dropping her hand. His hand smoked, obviously burnt. Gwen used her chance to flee.

She ducked back behind the couch in her living room, hoping with all her being just to not be seen. She pressed her hand from her unbroken arm to her mouth, trying to block all sound. She could hear him walking slowly through the room, approaching her hiding spot…

And then walking right past. How could he not have seen her? He had looked over in her direction! He was screwing with her, he had to be!

She dropped her hand from her mouth, some of the immediate terror subsiding.

He spun around, suddenly sensing her, and moved towards her.

There was nothing she could do, she knew it. So she did the one thing that she knew how to do, the one thing that was truly her.

She practiced her Latin.

“Sed et si ambulavero in valle mortis non timebo malum.”

She wasn’t religious, never had been, but know it just seemed like such an appropriate thing to say. The phrase echoed through her mind. She closed her eyes, waiting for death.

It never came.

But when she opened her eyes, everything was so blurry. She was tired, exhausted. Is this what death felt like?

Gwen woke up in a hospital. Beside her was a police officer, waiting patiently for her to awake.

“Miss May, I’d like to ask you a few questions about what happened in you house yesterday evening.”

Lying came so easily to her. She came home from the movie just in time to watch their neighbor throw her sister into the table. The impact impaled her on the damaged table. He tried to kill her, too, chased her through the house. She tripped him from behind the couch. He fell pretty hard. She hadn’t realized that he had something in his hands, honest. It was like running with scissors, it was an accident. He just sort of killed himself. It was only self defense.

Gwen inherited the house. She tried to go back to normal. She really did. But she just kept seeing them, the monsters. She couldn’t ignore them. They killed her sister! She decided that she would just have to take them out, no matter what the cost. So she took up martial arts, then sword fighting. She went to shooting ranges and practiced with guns. She quit school and was rarely at home.

She spent hours at home studying lost languages, understanding them. She wrote and rewrote the passage so many times that it couldn’t be wrong. Then she took the passage to a tattoo parlor and had them permanently embed the words into her arms. It was her oath to herself. She would never forget what these freaks did to Delaney. She would find them all and kill them, one by one, until the day she died.

When she joined the Hunters she took the name ‘seer’ because the first sign of her powers was the vision of her sister’s turning. Sometimes she tells people to call her ‘Seer’ when she doesn’t want them to know her name. She has since made duplicates of the picture of her sister that used to sit on her dresser. She carries a wallet size of the photo with her wherever she goes.

[b]Extra:[/b]
I like having song playlists for my characters. Here's the one for Gwen. I'll change it when I find more songs for her.

-Savior by Skillet.
-Get Out Alive by Three Days Grace.
-Earth Invasion by Skillet.
-Sleeper by Sevendust.

[Neptune]

[FONT="Franklin Gothic Medium"][COLOR="Navy"][B]Name:[/B] James Snow

[B]Hunter-Net Name:[/B] Sureshot275

[B]Age:[/B] 28

[B]Hair:[/B] Medium length, brown

[B]Eyes:[/B] Blue.

[B]Height:[/B] 6'0''

[B]Weight:[/B] 225 lbs

[B]Creed:[/B] Avenger

[B]Weapons:[/B] James prefers the use of firearms over any other type of weapon, though he's not afraid to get down and dirty with swords or even his own fists. He has the ability to wield practically all types of firearms, but he prefers using his double-barreled shotgun that he's lovingly named "Rebecca", his 'boomstick' if you will. All firearms are obviously loaded with ammunition laced with silver, otherwise he'd be killed quickly and savagely. When he does have to get up close and personal he prefers to use either his shotgun or the two scimitars he carries on his, called "Icingdeath" and "Twinkle" after the names of the swords carried by his favorite character in the Forgotten Realms universe, Drizzt Do'Urden. He wears the same type of Kevlar armor underneath his clothes that Wolf wears, although his probably isn't as necessary. His main use for the Hunters is as an assasin, leaving him very handy with a sniper rifle.

[B]Edges:[/B]

[I]Impact[/I] - James closes his eyes for only a moment and concentrates a good chunk of energy into a single shot able to pierce the strongest armor. He's somewhat able to use the same Edge with his scimitar's, although the effect is not as drastic.

[I]Discern[/I] - James wouldn't be much of a marksman if he couldn't tell friend from foe, or in this case foe from civilian. He mutters the phrase "Show me the money" and different colored auras emit around everything within his line of vision.

[I]Expose[/I] - James points his hand at someone as if he's about to shoot a gun and says "Bang."

[I]Trail[/I] - Some missions call for taking a target out steathily. These missions are usually handled by a small team of Hunters including James, who's ability to use a snipe rifle has helped tremendously in the past. Having a target emit a smoky trail makes sniping easy and fun!

[I]Restore[/I] - Although James prefers to stay far away as he possibly can from battle, for those times when he's got to get close this technique comes in handy. He's only able to use it once every three days because of the toll the restoration takes on his body, leaving him out of action for a few days but thankfully alive.

[I]Hide[/I] - A good sniper has got to have the abilty to hide until they have a good shot on their target, and then that one shot is all that it usually takes.

[I]Ravage[/I] - A technique that James can use, although at this point and time he's not aware of it.

[B]Appearance:[/B] Although James is usually in the backfield of fights, he's pretty well-built for his size. His muscular build tends to make it easier for him, having no proper melee combat training, to handle enemies up close. When he's not on a mission he looks like your everyday average joe, wearing a t-shirt, slacks, and work boots, but on a mission he dresses for stealth, usually wearing a tight balck sneaking suit that very much resembles that of which worn by Solid Snake.

[B]Biography:[/B] James lived the life of an average American citizen. He was born into a middle class family, graduated from high school and then college with honors, had a wondeful girlfriend, had just bought a new house, the list goes on. His father, a veteran of the Vietnam War, had interested him at an early age in firearms and marksmanship, virtually shaping James into an expert marksman at the age of 15. His father had always planned for James to join the military after high school, but James had other plans for his life and dropped all things shooting from that point on. That was, until ...

[B]Imbuing:[/B] He was with his future wife at the car dealership wanting to buy a new car to go along with their new house. Everything was going fine.

The salesman asked James and his girlfriend to come into his office to work out the little details that remained with the car. James had had to go to the bathroom since they got to the dealership so he excused himself from the dealer and his wife, who both went merrily on their way to the dealer's office, not thinking twice of it. James finished his business quickly and approached the dealer's office, though as he approached he heard the screams of his wife. He rushed to the office and found the dealer hunched over his wife with his teeth sunk into the side of her neck, blooding dripping from the orifices his sharp teeth had created. James's first reaction was to grab the closest thing to him and smash it over the preoccupied dealer's head, allowing him enough time to scoop up his wife and carry her out of the dealership.

He had only made it a few feet out of the dealership when his wife suddenly began to cough up heaps of blood. Her eyes were turning cloudy and she seemed to be staring far-off into the distance. She suddenly sprang out of his arms and lunged at him, making a beeline for his neck. He pushed her away and ran as fast as he could, but she somehow managed to keep pace with him and even catch up. She dove at him, clasping his left leg tightly to keep him from moving away again. James realized he had no choice anymore and swung his right leg back and then drove it back full force into her skull, twisting his girlfriends head sideways with a sickening thud. Mortified by what he had done, he ran home, where for the next few days he became delirious and practically insane. How could there things really exist? Why had this happened to him? After many days of soul searching he decided that he could either sit on his ass and sulk or do something sbout this new twist in his life. He went to the nearest bookstore and bought any book he could find about hunting monsters, believing that it may be his only chance for survival.

Many years passed and he eventually found his way into the group of Hunters, once again perfecting his marksman skills for the good of those around him. Due to his past experience, he believed that no rot could be turned back human and followed that code to a tee. He never second guessed himself once he had pulled the trigger. He chose the codename Sureshot because once he located his target and fired, they were as good as dead.[/COLOR][/FONT]

[Engel]

[color=#893F45][size=1][b]Name:[/b] Thomas "Thom" Viaquez.
[b]Hunter-Net Name.:[/b] Eraser 96.
[b]Age:[/b] Age 31.
[b]Hair:[/b] Ashen-black with a tint of red.
[b]Eyes:[/b] A greyish-green.
[b]Height:[/b] Around 5'10
[b]Weight:[/b] Thom hesitated, looked down at himself, and tacked on a few pounds to the number. 138 lbs.
[b]Creed:[/b] Judge. Writing this down made Thom look back up at his earlier answer, and sighed inwardly. [i]I'm judgin' those stupid bastards, not myself.[/i]

[b]Weapons:[/b]

An ornately designed longsword, befitting a person with the creed of a Judge. [i]At least I thin' so, dunno 'bout these guys...[/i]
P90 machine gun with anti-armor rounds. [i]Not everything has to be quick and quiet, eh?[/i]
Two antique Luger pistols, ransacked from a group of vampires. [i]God, I love those guns.[/i]
A large tower shield, as ornate as the longsword it matches. Usually strapped to his back when used.
Also a capable hand to hand fighter, but dislikes actually dirtying his hands.

[b]Edges:[/b]
[i][u]Discern[/i][/u]: Usually, just mumbles something under his breath, like a nonchalant joke or phrase, with the keyword "Lucky." [i]I don't make shitty jokes much, see...[/i]
[i][u]Pierce.[/i][/u]: Concentrates with mild attention on a target, and then whispers with a little grin, "Knives out." [i]Then I start lying...luckily...every kid think's a your mum's joke is funny, so I wouldn't have to do anything...it'd be dyin' from just hearing the failure contain'd wit'in that joke.[/i]
[i][u]Burden:[/i][/u] Settles a gaze on the target, and then says planly, "Stop whispering." like an accusation. They go dead in their tracks.
[i][u]Smolder:[/i][/u] Declares happily, "How'm I drivin'?" and a thick black smog rolls out, like the scene of a bad car crash.
[i][u]Blaze:[/i][/u] Simply snaps his finger and with concentrated willpower, the light turns up on the freaks majorly.
[i][u]Delve:[/i][/u] What kind of Judge wouldn't have this skill? Another thought produced one, allows him to "experience" the previous event.
[i][u]Expose:[/i][/u] With a little concentration and the words "Meeting people is easy," the shrouds are ripped down.

[b]Appearance:[/b]
For a Judge, I'm not the most regal person You'd ever meet. I wear acid-washed blue jeans and a white button up shirt with a black vest, most days. I have several sets of this. I look like some sort of fusion between casual and caustic, and that works well for me. I've got a bit of stubble on my face, usually, and I don't much care to shave it. My hair is a light greyish black, with a tint of red, and lays kinda jutted and spiky and short on my head. It's pretty soft, actually. Dunno how. I've got green eyes, and my hands are pretty calloused.

Other than that, I've got a scar on my left eyebrow that looks quite strange, as no hair ever grows back over it. And a nice one on my leg, when some little bastard yapped at my leg and I had to cleave it off. Always a fun time.

I've got it in for more of quickness approach, and I ain't gonna clunk around town in a suit of goddamn armor. My shield's enough. I kinda laugh at the hunters who name their weapons, but if I ever admitted I named my sword "Myxoma", they'd laugh right back.

[b]Biography:[/b]
I was born and raised in a little cutaway section of London where lots of Spanish people had made residence. Hence my last name. My mum was knocked up by a righ' and proper English gent who refused to pay alimony or take me to the park after Sunday's services. I was raised christian, but I never really believed in that religion stuff. Righ' and proper for those do.

Went to public school with a bunch of Spanish kids and poor English gents. I didn't much mind it, I got involved with the musical program. It was at that point, when I picked up a guitar, I realized, everyone could play guitar. If the dips tried hard enough. Most people lack the perseverance to actually go through with anything. It's a shittin' shame.

When I got to high school, I made my own little band. Didn't ever catch on though. I think about trying it again from time to time, but that wouldn't really work. All my old friends are off in other places, and I might as well not exist. Oh well.

My life was never exciting, never out of the ordinary, never special, never something to write about. It still isn't, really, knowing that there's a bunch of people [i][b]just like me[/i][/b] doing the same thing.

[b]Imbuing:[/b]
I was hangin' out at The Basement, a local night club, around the age of what, 15? They never let me drink, but they'd let me get up there and do my singin' and guitar playin' thing. No one knew I never learned how to really play music, I'd always just picked up on what everyone else was playin' at the time. I bet that's how everyone really did it. Music doesn't make sense on paper.

I was up on the stage, and right in the middle of the lyric, "My thoughts are misguided and a little naive," the room went dark. Like someone put out the lights. And everyone started to slow down, and then this weird musical tone, light and mysterious, kinda hit me like some sort of realization. And then time sped up like fast little arpeggi and around me were things I thought were pulled out of some weird cartoon. Misshapen shambles of grins and limbs, grasping and tearing.

I wrenched the guitar to the right, the body of it slamming into the nearest's face - I think it was it's face, bloody damn can't tell with them - and screaming, "Knives out, lights out!" for some reason, that little musical tune building to a fever pitch inside my head told me two things.

[i]Don't be afraid.

They're guilty. Guilty sinners.[/i]

And I swung with all the righteous fury of a man devoted to his cause, the thick twanging of discordant guitar notes and the thick-pitch body colliding with sinew and skulls. They lay dead on the stage and I stood above them all, a whacked out, tweaked piece of wood and metal strings in my hands.

I plucked loosely at the notes.

That was kinda cool.[/color][/size]

[Horendithas]

[COLOR="Indigo"]I have some questions but first, I removed the rating Talon. That’s no longer used for rpgs though you are welcome to put it as a disclaimer at the beginning of your post.

Anyway…

I’d like a clarification on the edges if you don’t mind. First of all do they have to have some word to activate or can that be a combination depending on the actual edge? Like some only requiring a thought or the person to concentrate to activate it instead of actually speaking.

Also, starting with seven seems like total overkill to me so what are your thoughts on a character having only three that they use and four “potentials” that have yet to be unlocked? The character might not even know they have that ability yet until later on. If you could answer that I’d appreciate it. Thanks.[/COLOR]

[Talon]

[quote name='Indi'][COLOR="Indigo"]I have some questions but first, I removed the rating Talon. That’s no longer used for rpgs though you are welcome to put it as a disclaimer at the beginning of your post.

Anyway…

I’d like a clarification on the edges if you don’t mind. First of all do they have to have some word to activate or can that be a combination depending on the actual edge? Like some only requiring a thought or the person to concentrate to activate it instead of actually speaking.

Also, starting with seven seems like total overkill to me so what are your thoughts on a character having only three that they use and four “potentials” that have yet to be unlocked? The character might not even know they have that ability yet until later on. If you could answer that I’d appreciate it. Thanks.[/COLOR][/QUOTE]

[color=teal]To answer your first question, the Edges can be activated by any combination of three components: somatic, verbal, and intentional. That is to say, they may be activated by a gesture, an incantion or phrase, or even a word, or by pure intent to activate.

I appreciate your questions, Indi, because it has come to my attention that I need to address an issue about Edges real quick.

Edges are -inherent-. They are not trained, and as such, the names listed on the sign-up sheet for them are simply for the Players' benefit. There is no list of Creeds, Virtues, or Edges on Hunter-Net. Hunters simply realize they have supernatural abilities to see and combat certain things, and put their experiences and questions up on Hunter-Net to hopefully try to get some questions. What I call 'Cleave' might be called 'Fireblade' or 'Burning Brand' by a player character in the game.

As for beginning with seven Edges, Indi, the reason I selected so many for us all to begin with is simply because I wish to expand the RPG to encompass a tremendous scope. If you wish your character to have three actives and four possibles, that's your choice. Your character -could- be recently Imbued, for instance.

But it -is- my full intention for characters to begin unlocking new Edges later on in the RPG. That being said, have fun, I look forward to seeing your sign-up.[/color]

[Raiha]

[COLOR="DarkOrchid"][FONT="Times New Roman"][b]Name:[/b] Manjusra Cheung
[b]Hunter-Net Name:[/b] Optical88
[b]Age:[/b] 28
[b]Hair:[/b] Platinum blonde to nearly white
[b]Eyes:[/b] Pale gray in partial sunlight, but completely red in full. She lacks the pigmentation to have normal colors.
[b]Height:[/b] 5'6"
[b]Weight:[/b] 135lbs.
[b]Creed:[/b] Hermit
[b]Weapons:[/b] 7 section Chain whips; brass, or in this case sterling silver knuckles.
[b]Edges:[/b]

[b]Delve[/b]: Manjusra forms a steeple with her fingers, then points them at the target
[b]Pinpoint[/b]: Simply by pointing, Manjusra activates this edge the quickest of any she uses.
[b]Restore[/b]: With a decidedly feminine gesture, Manjusra simply rolls her fingers over the part she wants to heal.
[b]Illuminate[/b]: Using both word and gesture, Manjusra brings her finger to her eyes and says. "Samadhi."
[b]Brand[/b]: This takes more time, but by intoning the mantra "Om A Ra Pa Cha Na Dhīh," Manjusra can activate this edge without too much effort.
[b]Suspend[/b]: Using a simple movement only, Manjusra brings a finger to her lips and traces a line from from her upper lip to her chin.

[b]Appearance:[/b] XP, or Xeroderma pigmentosum has ensured that she will always be pale and only begin to move after twilight has fallen. As such in full sunlight she wears heavily hooded jackets or coats, gloves, and very thick jeans and boots. Constant or continued exposure to sunlight will literally drive her mad before cancer destroys her soon after. In the evenings she dresses warmly in very much what she wears during the day. Favoring darker colors to blend in, she usually keeps her head covered as she is rather noticeable.

Manjusra will never be able to wear clothes that show off her decidedly pale skin, but on the other hand, that's less and less of a disadvantage when considering her choice of profession. With all the dark clothes she wears it's difficult for people to see her crouching in the shadows, much less get a good look at her.

[b]Biography:[/b] Living alone in the crowded city, never paying attention to others, I suppose you could say Man's inhumanity to Man always turned me off to the whole humanity thing. I don't like people and I never did. But I don't like freaks any more. In fact I never liked them but I could always see them coming. Just didn't look right to me. Madness smirking in their smiles, in the corners of their eyes. But they never bothered me before because I never lingered long enough to make myself look tasty. Or vulnerable. And even if I only moved in the night time, it didn't make much of a difference to me.

Perhaps that was why I never appreciated fully...the truly sinister nature of the monsters roaming the world in human flesh. I always knew that the night held evil inside it's empty thoughts, but I never really knew, and it never became real for me. It didn't have to when I was removed from it in a way only an XPer like me could be. Maybe I should've paid more attention. But I liked to think I was achieving enlightenment by withdrawing from the world. Maybe I was in some ways, but ignoring the others was going to catch up to me. And when it did, I remember thinking to myself that it wasn't payback that was a bitch. But karma.

[b]Imbuing:[/b] [i]I always walked in darkness, and never gave a second thought to the things that crawled and creeped around me. Was that so wrong? I know now that if I'd been watching when I should've, I wouldn't have been kneeling in the cold earth over my sister's graves. But I was. And I did. And I do it every now and then to remind myself to not just lean over the bed with my whip wrapped around my throat. They died because I let a freak sidle past me in an alley. Why he didn't eat my eyes instead of the eyes of my sisters I don't know. Maybe it's because mine looked less than human, or maybe it's because I wasn't small and helpless. But I should've checked sooner, and seen where he was going before writing it off.

Later, watching the blood he'd smeared on the ceiling to taunt me, I felt pain creeping down the corners of my forehead. Smarting agony prickled my nose, made my lower lip tremble, and I should've known he was beating me home just to get to them first. Getting ahead of me I figured he had someone to kill further down the line. But instead I was kneeling and staring up with my head tilted all the way back so I could see the blood of my younger sisters swirled in script. Taunting words and little handprints from their hands. Severed at the elbows, pressed in their own blood and put on the walls for me.[/i]

"Did you like that bitch?"

[i]I don't think I cried right away. It wasn't until I saw the flickering traces of the freak still lingering on my sister's bodies that I began to see my vision clouding over. And then all I saw was white. For a moment I thought that I was going to die with them, and my body disintegrate in nothing. I'd never been exposed to so much light. Never seen everything so sharply. I thought my skin would curl up and peel away, but then the light went away. And it all just became normal again. Just the corpses, just the writing on the ceiling. No shreds of rot trailing off of my sister's lips. No traces of it on their stomachs and hips. I could almost pretend it hadn't been there at all. So I turned and left. I knew that there was no DNA at the scene. And I'd read about their deaths later from the extremely dim glow of my console. Go to their graves at midnight. When people were afraid to go to graveyards, I'd still go. Better than burning up to grieve.

And I grieved for months, until it happened again, but this time I saw the rot. And knew what it was. Where it was going. And when I followed I saw it about to slither in through the window. I don't know what possessed me to do it, but I pointed at the monster and barked an incomprehensible word. The thing turned to me, and I saw a streak of red down its throat. It pulsed like a heart, and I wanted to rip it out with my bare hands. But it went into the window and then all I could feel was my own pulse hissing in my ears. The sound was deafening and I realized that it'd make me back away unconsciously. And then I ran like a whipped dog. I'd read about the death later.[/i]


[URL="http://www.conniechiu.com/Images/images/w%20asym%20beauty.jpg"]There she is.[/URL][/FONT][/COLOR]

[GuyYouMetOnline]

[COLOR=indigo][B]Name: [/B]Vaxla Intunecat[/COLOR]


[COLOR=indigo][B]Hunter-Net Name:[/B] Ravager 401[/COLOR]

[COLOR=indigo][B]Age:[/B] 27[/COLOR]

[COLOR=indigo][B]Hair:[/B] Black[/COLOR]

[COLOR=indigo][B]Eyes:[/B] Blue[/COLOR]

[COLOR=indigo][B]Height:[/B] 6'2''[/COLOR]

[COLOR=indigo][B]Weight:[/B] 200 lbs. (thanks for the weight clarification, Raiha)[/COLOR]

[COLOR=indigo][B]Creed:[/B] Wayward (yes, I cleared it with Talon)[/COLOR]

[COLOR=indigo][B]Weapons:[/B] Whatever she thinks she'll need for the task at hand. Her most-used weapons are a sword and a pair of pistols, usually loaded with silver bullets. Her sword is coated in silver, which gives it additional force against the many silver-vulnerable freaks out there, although it's not as good as a pure silver weapon.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=indigo][B]Edges:[/B] [/COLOR]

[COLOR=indigo]Pinpoint: Vaxla focuses on the target, picturing it as though she was looking through the targeting scope of a weapon.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=indigo]Delve: Vaxla focuses on what she desires to view the past of and speaks the word 'praeteritum', a Latin word meaning 'past'.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=indigo]Restore: Vaxla triggers this with the Latin word 'salvus', meaning 'healthy'.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=indigo]Cleave: The desired object is energized with fire upon saying the word 'ignus', Latin for 'fire'.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=indigo]Impact: Vaxla triggers this with 'vis' a Latin word meaning 'force'.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=indigo]Smite: Vaxla focuses on the target and closes her left hand into a fist.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=indigo]Blaze: Vaxla focuses on the light source and says the Latin word 'lux', meaning 'light'[/COLOR]

[COLOR=indigo][B]Appearance:[/B] Vaxla's always been a good-looking woman, and she still is even now, despite the numerous wounds she's sustained. Thanks to her Restore Edge, she has no scars or any visible signs of past injury, with one exception. During her imbuing incident, she sustained an injury on her left arm that left a scar. She sees it as a symbol of what happened that night, of the reason she fights.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=indigo][B]Biography:[/B] Vaxla's life before her imbuing wasn't too remarkable. Her father wasn't around much, so she didn't get to know him very well. She never came to resent him for it; she understood that his job kept him busy, and that he wasn't away so often by choice. As she grew older, she began to worry more about her safety; she knew she was good-looking, and she kept hearing about cases of rape. As a result, she started taking self-defense lessons.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=indigo]Vaxla met Jaron in her senior year at high school. The two of them quickly became friends, and before long they were going out. They continued to see each other after high school; Jaron went to college, while Vaxla decided to go straight to employment. She moved into a small house close to her job, and also, as it happened, close to the place Jaron and a couple of his friends had rented.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=indigo]Vaxla had thought there was nothing wrong with her and Jaron's relationship until one night. She knew Jaron didn't have any plans, so she decided to pay him a surprise visit. When she got there, however, she saw Jaron through the window. And he was making out with another woman. She left immediately; Jaron didn't even know she's seen him. It was a huge blow to her, as she had come to truly love him. She didn't say anything until the next week, when Jaron had come over for the evening. He came to her place more frequently than she went to his; she wasn't too fond of his friends. This time, she especially wanted to be alone with him; she didn't want his friends there when she confronted him. She decided to confront him alone, a decision that almost resulted in her death.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=indigo][B]Imbuing:[/B] When Vaxla confronted Jaron about his other relationship, at first he didn't seem to react at all. He just stared at her, with a look on his face Vaxla'd never seen before. He muttered something to himself, then locked eyes with Vaxla. A couple seconds later, he made his move.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=indigo]Vaxla hadn't thought Jaron to be a violent person, so she hadn't expected a physical response. But he came at her anyways. Despite her surprise, she fought back, but Jaron moved fast, and he was strong. He easily overpowered her, then commenced to rape her. It was at the moment he came that it happened. Suddenly, the man was no longer a man, and she saw him for what he really was. Jaron, the man she'd loved, was a vampire.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=indigo]Vaxla didn't have time to think. She simply reacted, throwing Jaron off of herself. She leapt to her feet as the vampire charged her. Terrified, she ran to the counter and grabbed a cutting knife, the best weapon at hand. Jaron grabbed it by the blade, seemingly impervious to the pain, and took it from her. He used it himself, but the only wound he managed to inflict was a cut on her left arm.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=indigo]The pain seemed to trigger something within Vaxla. Without really knowing what she was doing, she said, "[I]Salvus[/I]". Jaron stepped back in surprise as the wound quickly healed. But Vaxla was just as shocked, and it stopped before the wound was fully healed. Vaxla stared at Jaron and, still nor really certain what she was doing, closed her left hand into a fist. There was a flash, a noise, and then Vaxla fell to the ground, unconcious. She awoke with the coming of dawn, just in time to see the sunlight burn away Jaron's body.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=indigo]Over the next weeks, Vaxla experimented, gradually leaning her abilities. But initially, she could only use them when she recalled her feelings that night. She learned to use her abilities, but repeatedly reliving the incident had a deeper emotional effect on her. And then she missed her period. A home-pregnancy test confirmed her fear: Jaron had impregnated her.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=indigo]There were other... things. Vaxla had seen them. In fact, the first time she saw Jaron's 'friends' after his death, she saw that they, too, were vampires. And now she carried Jaron's child. She didn't know if it would be a vampire child or what, but it didn't matter. Nothing seemed to matter any more, except for one thing.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=indigo]Vaxla had the child aborted. She didn't have any doubts about it, any second thoughts. She felt nothing but satisfaction, satisfaction at the death of a monster. It didn't matter to her that she didn't even know if the child would have been vampiric. It might have been, and that was enough, in her mind, to justify his death.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=indigo]Her first victims were Jaron's vampire friends. They treid to fight back, but it made no difference. By the end of it, they were both dead. The fight had destroyed the house, and also resulted in a civilian casualty, a woman from the next house who came over to investigate the noise. Vaxla didn't care; it didn't matter to her. Nothing mattered anymore except killing them. All of them. She left the dead bodies and wrecked house behind, walking away with no injuries, no marks of any kind except for one: the scar on her left arm, left by the wound Jaron had inflicted. She would leave it there as a mark of who she was, a mark of her goal: to kill every last one of them.[/COLOR]

[Horendithas]

[COLOR="Indigo"][quote name='Talon;817079][color=teal]As for beginning with seven Edges, Indi,[B] the reason I selected so many for us all to begin with is simply because [U]I wish to expand the RPG to encompass a tremendous scope[/U][/B]. If you wish your character to have three actives and four possibles, that's your choice. Your character -could- be recently Imbued, for instance.[/color][/QUOTE]Lots of powerful skills does [I]not[/I] equal tremendous scope. Difference of opinion really but still, if I need powers to have scope or depth for a story or character, that takes the fun out of it since I'd feel like I'm falling back on a cheap trick instead of using brains and resourcefulness. [quote name='Talon'][color=teal']But it -is- my full intention for characters to begin unlocking new Edges later on in the RPG. That being said, have fun, I look forward to seeing your sign-up.[/color][/quote]Another question, but again, I'd rather not go overboard on having powers but rather on skillful application of a select few. If I want god mode, that's what video games are for and to continually gain edges just doesn't appeal to me at all.

I know I'm nitpicking a bit, but that's the one aspect of this rpg that does not sit well with me. I'm looking to start with a newly imbued character who has all of three edges, will possibly unlock four more and then slowly become more proficient with those instead of merely gaining more power as it were.

If you're fine with that I'll consider a sign up, otherwise, there's no reason for me to waste your time.

[B]EDIT:[/B] Thank you for the clarification via pm Talon. [/COLOR]

[Zephyr]

[SIZE="2"][COLOR="DarkRed"][B]Name[/B]: Amanda “Amy” Swift

[B]Hunter-Net Name[/B]: Archangel298

[B]Age[/B]: 18

[B]Hair[/B]: Raven Black, with a single, inch-wide blue stripe down the front-left (over the eye). Hair is straight and extends to about mid-back.

[B]Eyes[/B]: Mostly Grey, faded to a light blue at the outer edges

[B]Height[/B]: 5' 7"

[B]Weight[/B]: 135 lbs (adjusted thanks to advice from a fellow OB'er)

[B]Creed[/B]: Judge

[B]Weapons[/B]: Amanda prefers to travel rather lightly with weapons. She carries a single Walther P-99 in a shoulder harness under her left arm, and two spare magazines hidden in the folds of her cloak. Strapped to her back are three small throwing daggers, and a jagged shard of metal about 6 inches in length (from her first kill, see bio).

For protection she normally wears a Kevlar vest under her dress. The forearms of her dress hide small metal plate bracers to help deflect blunt weapons, small blades, claws or fangs, also good for busting said fangs with a quick back-hand. Her boots are also armored on the inside with metal, making them more durable and good for a rousing game of zombie-skull soccer.

[B]Edges[/B]: [i](While Edges may be inherent to Hunters, Amanda has stumbled upon a downfall in hers. A negative emotional state, resulting in the misuse of her Edges can will often have consequences. She does not often misuse them in this way, but she has lost her temper in the past with some freaks she has faced. Amanda attributes this to the strong bias caused by emotions, which is not appropriate to the act of standing in judgment.)[/i] (Note: this is not something I expect to crop up constantly, as Amanda is in control of her emotions generally. However, I just wanted to add a new depth to both the edges and her personality for the purpose of possible gameplay options)

[I]Burden[/I]- Places her left hand over her right eye and stared daggers with the left eye. “I can see your fate. Now, stand still for it.” [I](If misused will often fail, and possibly backlash for a fraction of a second)
[/I]
[I]Discern[/I]- Closes both eyes. “Even in the darkness the eyes of the divine reign.” Opens both eyes to the sights around her. [I](Will not function at all if misused)[/I]
[I]
Respire[/I]- Places both hands over her heart. “It is not yet time. I (you) have much to do.” Places a kiss on the forehead of the recipient (not used for herself). [I](Misuse of other edges will taint the next use of this one for up to a week later, slowing the healing process and giving the recipient nightmares.)[/I]

[I]Payback[/I]- Motions toward the target as though preparing to fire an arrow. “Heaven rejects you, and so does this world!” Releases the “arrow” at the target. [I](If misused this edge will either not work, or leave Amanda almost paralyzed by the pained screams of her target.)[/I]
[I]
Impact[/I]- “In Nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti.” Kissed her gun, dagger, or fist, then lets fly with the “righteous judgment.” [I](Bullets will explode right out of the barrel, daggers veer off course, and limbs may break if misused) [/I]

[I]Balance[/I]- Crosses her arms and merely glares at the target. “Your tricks pale in comparison to the glorious truth.” [I](This edge will just flat out not work when misused)[/I]

[I]Pinpoint[/I]- “Even the birds who approach Heaven are susceptible to gravity’s pull.” [I](May either not work, or provide a stinging pain in Amanda's eyes if misused)[/I]

[B]Appearance[/B]: Amanda’s appearance is rather deceiving at first. Standing at only 5’ 7” and having a lithe, curvy frame it is hard for people to imagine her as being physically strong or imposing. What she lacking in physical strength she makes up for with a visual demeanor that is almost frightening. Her eyes are cold as an artic wind, and she holds herself steadfast and calm in even what often seems to be the center of a war zone. On occasion she wears the left side of a theater-style “smiling mask” which has been broken in half and painted with a single steam of blood from the eye, as though it were crying.

Amanda’s normal attire, both in combat and her time off, is almost creepy in and of itself. She is often seen wearing a flowing black dress, designed just loose enough to hide Kevlar coverings underneath while still slightly form-fitting, and with a very gothic look. The arms extend down to the wrist and cover the back of the hands, connected by rings on the middle finger. A two-layered half-cloak covers her shoulders and upper half of her torso, with a downward V-shape clasped at the throat by a black widow pin. Despite this rather sleek look she chooses to wear thick leather, knee-high boots with three belt straps for ties.

Generally unseen in the scar stretching diagonally down from left shoulder to right hip on her back, though it is obvious when she is not wearing the cloak (as her dress has a low back). On either shoulder blade she has a tattoo of an angel’s wings, and a vampire tooth earring in her left ear (which she tells most people is a wolf’s fang).
[B]
Biography[/B]: Most of Amanda’s early life was normal by the standards of most of society. She grew up in a middle-class family, attended school, enjoyed learning to play the violin, and had various aspirations for her future. Both of her parents were loving and supporting of her changing dreams, and her younger sister was a source of constant companionship and encouragement.

Sadly, as with most dreams, this one came to a screaming and unexpected halt. To celebrate her sister’s birthday her family decided to spend the week with relatives who they had rarely had the chance to meet with. Wanting to see a bit of the country along the way they choose to take a Greyhound bus there and back. The bus never made it to its destination. Halfway through the trip a freak, more specifically a hungry vampire, lost control and took it out on the passengers.

[B]Imbuing[/B]: Amanda was originally caught in a state of shock as she saw people slaughtered before her eyes, the bus crash into a guardrail, and the searing pain of a jagged piece of metal bury itself in her back. Lying before her in the wreck was her own family, torn apart by either the vampire or the crash; she no longer can remember the specifics. It was not long before she was faced by her own mortality, in the guise of a vampire staring directly at her, and a decision. Should she die lying on the ground whimpering, or die making that bastard pay for his actions.

As with many cases of fight or flight, logic was thrown to wind in place of pure, heated instinct. Grabbing at the metal shard in her back she rended flesh tearing it free and lunged at the vampire. Tears of sadness, rage, fear, and probably a tinge of understanding of the insanity of the action blurred her vision as she flew forward with a speed she never imagined she possessed. Images of her life, her family, her loves and hates, joys and fears, hopes and dreams flooded her mind in the seconds before she struck. Her hands bled from the edges of the metal shard as it seemed to be guided by the hand of the divine straight into the heart of the vampire.

The vampire dropped to the ground, paralyzed instead of instantly killed, as the legends often claim. For a time he lay there, twitching as Amanda remained curled up on the remains of a seat, her mind racing. As she watched him squirm the once happy, child-like gleam of her eyes faded away, leaving only a void stare that would frighten the darkness itself. [I]Animal. No, even a savage beast has more meaning than this thing.[/I] Slowly she uncurled from the seat to stand over the vampire. No rage, no sadness. There was nothing in her eyes. [I]This thing wishes death upon us? Then death it shall have.[/I] Amanda’s foot rose from the floor of the bus to sit upon the top of the makeshift stake. “Never again.” With one swift motion her heel slammed down into the metal and shattered the remains of the vampires heart.

As a last insult she sliced out one of his teeth and later turned it into a makeshift earring before walking away from the scene and disappearing into the night. Weeks later she was confronted by a now forgotten hunter who seemed to know too much about her involvement in the incident. However her distrust was overridden by his offer regarding the killing of such freaks. He brought her into the fold, mentored her for a time, and then disappeared once he believed her to be ready. Now, she hunts.
[/COLOR][/SIZE]


Talon, I hope this meets with your approval. If there is anything your dislike about it, just let me know and I will work to correct if for you.

[Darren]

[SIZE="1"][B]Name:[/B] Kazimir Moravec

[B]Hunter-Net Name:[/B] Salvage458

[B]Age:[/B] 26

[B]Hair:[/B] Dark Brown

[B]Eyes:[/B] Blue

[B]Height:[/B] 5' 10"

[B]Weight:[/B] 138 lb.

[B]Creed:[/B] Innocent

[B]Weapons:[/B] Contrary to the typical Innocent belief, Kazimir whole-heartedly believes in carrying fire-arms. Dual [U][URL="http://world.guns.ru/handguns/bdm_1.jpg"]Browning BDM[/URL][/U]s, to be exact. He may not believe in killing, but self-defense is fair enough reason to fight in his eyes. While the handguns are used with pinpoint accuracy from moderate distances, (to avoid killing) Kazimir uses his [U][URL="http://www.japanese-armor.com/images/products/2067-gt.jpg"]Butterfly Swords[/URL][/U] in close combat to disable his opponents. (The swords' blades are 11 1/2") Kazimir is also trained in several forms of martial arts.

[B]Edges:[/B]
[I]Respire:[/I] He simply concentrates, allowing his body to be filled with a warm sensation.
[I]Suspend:[/I] Although it's not required, Kazimire usually mutters the word 'stop,' to activate its affect.
[I]Radiate:[/I] Snaps his fingers.
[I]Impact:[/I] While holding the weapon he chooses to effect (or not, in the case of using his fist) he concentrates, endowing the weapon with extraordinary power and a brilliant golden sheen. (Kazimir only uses this edge in extreme circumstances, for fear of causing death)
[I]Ward:[/I] Holds up his hands.
[I]Champion:[/I] Kazimir closes his eyes and concentrates on the exact image he would like his opponents to see.
[I]Forsee:[/I] Not applicable. Kazimir is in constant use of this power. (Or at least that's how it seems) Any time an undesired result occurs, he goes back to the point of his decision (if was within the past 10 minutes) in order to alter his choice. (Even though this may seem like time travel, it is nothing of the kind. Think of Nicholas Cage in [I]Next[/I])

[B]Appearance:[/B] Despite what you would expect from a battle-worn Hunter, Kazimir is actually not a very threatening figure. Due to this Czech heritage, he bears very pale skin and kind, light blue eyes. His brown hair has been shaved bald and his face is never clean-shaven. Being an insomniac, Kazimir often looks sick or weak. (which isn't flattering on his already meager figure) He wears casual clothes and, other than the Kevlar vest, (which is concealed) you would never be able to tell that he was a Hunter. Kazimir always wears his trademark fur-lined hoodie (the hood is usually up) and dark sunglasses.

[B]Biography:[/B] Kazimir was born in America to two czech immigrants. Early on in life, he knew was an outcast, being the only member of his family who did not have blonde hair. His mother loved him very much, but his father favored Kazimir's older brother, Josef. Sibling rivalry was always about, but the two never let their father's old views truly tear their bonds.
When Their mother died, Kazimir's father no longer had the time to take care of his kids. (He was recently promoted at his job and was never home) He paid for his sons to attend a military boarding school in California.
Kazimir and Josef hated the idea of going, but they both learned a lot and trained their bodies in hand-to-hand combat. Shortly after Josef graduated from the academy, Kazimir's father passed away from an apparent heart-attack. Kazimir inherited half of his earnings and used the money to go to Europe. He began studying martial arts and weapon combat.

[B]Imbuing:[/B]Several years later, Josef tracked him down and tried to persuade him to come live with him. However, in a sick twist of fate, they were tracked down by a pack of werewolves. Kazimir was able to protect hisself with ease, (however, he had no clue what these monsters were) but his brother was not as lucky: he was bitten.
The next morning, Josef had vanished without saying goodbye and it was now Kazimir's turn to track down his brother. It took quite some time, but when he finally discovered Josef's whereabouts, it was too late. He had already lost his mind in the bloodlust and turned his newly acquired fangs against Kazimir.
He refused to kill his werewolf brother and tried continuously to negotiate with Josef. However, just when Kazimir believed he was verging on a breakthrough, a group of European Hunters showed up and put a silver bullet through his brother's heart.[/SIZE]

[P.J. McKrafty]

[COLOR=navy][FONT=Arial][B]Name:[/B] Martin Gibbs[/FONT][/COLOR]

[COLOR=navy][FONT=Arial][B]Hunter-Net Name:[/B] Bruiser267[/FONT][/COLOR]

[COLOR=navy][FONT=Arial][B]Age:[/B] 27[/FONT][/COLOR]

[COLOR=navy][FONT=Arial][B]Hair:[/B] Blond[/FONT][/COLOR]

[COLOR=navy][FONT=Arial][B]Eyes:[/B] Hazel[/FONT][/COLOR]

[COLOR=navy][FONT=Arial][B]Height:[/B] 6"1"[/FONT][/COLOR]

[COLOR=navy][FONT=Arial][B]Weight:[/B] 187lbs[/FONT][/COLOR]

[COLOR=navy][FONT=Arial][B]Creed:[/B] Defender[/FONT][/COLOR]
[FONT=Arial][SIZE=2][COLOR=navy][B]
Weapons:[/B] A Kalashnikov AK-47 with a sawed off stock, [/COLOR][/SIZE][/FONT][FONT=Arial][SIZE=2] .[/SIZE][/FONT][FONT=Arial][SIZE=2][COLOR=navy]44 Magnum Colt Anaconda that he keeps in a belt holster in the small of his back, and a bolt-action Remington 700 that he uses in certain operations to cover his fellow Hunters. He also carries a wooden bat that has chipped in a few places and has a number of obscenities written on it, and a silver push dagger which he always has on him.

EDIT: Another resource that is available to Martin is his station wagon. Playfully dubbed the "Hunts-mobile", Martin's '86 4x4 Jeep Wagoneer has become something of a calling card for him. Teal, rusting in certain places, and the fake wood paneling fading adds the cherry to the metaphorical eye-sore of a sundae. Martin has equipped it with a push bar on the front and back of the car with K.C. lights mounted on them. He has a C.B. mounted in the center dash. He has also installed a makeshift gun rack by cutting the bottom out of the back and building it into the floor so that his armory can be easily hidden from the police.
[/COLOR][/SIZE][/FONT]
[B][FONT=Arial][COLOR=navy]Edges: [/COLOR][/FONT][/B]

[FONT=Arial][COLOR=navy]Impact – He will yell "Fastball!" and twist his cap backward in a cliché fashion before delivering the blow with his bat.[/COLOR][/FONT]

[FONT=Arial][COLOR=navy]Champion – He will mutter "Ouch." under his breath[/COLOR][/FONT]

[FONT=Arial][COLOR=navy]Ward – Martin conjures this shield by brandishing his middle finger at the enemy[/COLOR][/FONT]

[FONT=Arial][COLOR=navy]Bluster – He will call out any number of curse words.[/COLOR][/FONT]

[FONT=Arial][COLOR=navy]Foresee – Martin will utter "Choices, choices."[/COLOR][/FONT]

[FONT=Arial][COLOR=navy]Expose - He motions to his eyes with two fingers and then points at his target.[/COLOR][/FONT]

[COLOR=navy][FONT=Arial][B]Appearance:[/B] Chase doesn’t come off as one of the more intimidating people you will meet. He has an athletic build from his former career. He is often beaming his smug grin that shows off the chipped teeth in the front of his mouth. He is always wearing a baseball cap with the 'B' for the Red Sox, and is usually wearing a ¾ t-shirt and jeans with converse high-tops.[/FONT][/COLOR]

[FONT=Arial][COLOR=navy]While hunting he wears a Kevlar vest and heavy steel-toed work boots, along with a S.W.A.T. mask to protect his face. But other than that his outfit doesn’t change. He likes to wear bright colors and has reflector tape on his vest to attract more attention to himself.[/COLOR][/FONT]

[COLOR=navy][FONT=Arial][B]Biography:[/B] I was raised in the suburbs outside of Chicago IL. From a young age I was a punk, always getting in tussles with kids that were older and bigger than myself and usually getting my rear-end handed to me. My parents didn’t know what to do with me; they tried childhood counseling, putting me in a kid’s karate class to release my anger (that just made things worse). They just about gave up with me when I entered my schools baseball team.[/FONT][/COLOR]

[FONT=Arial][COLOR=navy]This was my outlet. Baseball. From the age of twelve on I have been playing baseball, and not to toot my own horn but I was damn good at it too. My high school team went to the state finals twice and I had the best record in my entire school. I got into collage on a baseball scholarship but dropped out as soon as I got the offer to go to the Boston Red Sox’s training camp. I was kicked out after the first week of training for repeated offenses of "Unsportsmanlike-like conduct".[/COLOR][/FONT]

[FONT=Arial][COLOR=navy]I entered a spiral of depression and started drinking. After a couple [I]Public Intoxication[/I] charges I was a guest star of one of those intervention shows with my family and was placed in one of those rehab resorts. That’s when it happened.[/COLOR][/FONT]

[COLOR=navy][FONT=Arial][B]Imbuing:[/B] I had been in the rehab center for about a month and had about a month left before I could have been released. I was just wandering the halls, trying to make my way to the recreation room to watch the end of the game (the beginning of which I was in a meeting during.) and maybe chat with my recently acquired friends when the scream echoed down the hallway.[/FONT][/COLOR]

[FONT=Arial][COLOR=navy]I thought nothing of it at first, a new arrival coming down off some drug maybe. But this was followed by a dozen other screams coming from the recreation room. All the occupants came stampeding out. The last one out of the room was one of recent buddies, Ollie. He was cradling his neck where blood was just gushing from.[/COLOR][/FONT]

[FONT=Arial][COLOR=navy]Before I could call out to him another person exited the room, a tall black woman wearing a jacket with a hood covering her face. He spotted Ollie and pounced on him pinning him to the floor and commenced to bite into him. I watched in horror as one of my friends was ripped apart and had his blood drank like he was a damned water fountain. I couldn’t turn away, the creature's hood fell back off its face. It was hideous. The sight was gruesome and I still couldn’t force myself to look away.[/COLOR][/FONT]

[FONT=Arial][COLOR=navy]My feet were moving before I knew what was happening, I screamed and was charging the beast. She cast me a glance and when I was close enough she swatted me away like I was a freaking fly. I hit the wall hard and rolled onto my back. Before I could regain my footing she had straddled my hips and pinned me to the ground like she had Ollie. Now I was able to get a good look at her. Her eyes were completely black like the eyes you see on sharks. She had disgustingly elongated canines. Her entire mouth was covered in blood and she was grinning at me. GRINNING! I was able to get my forearm under her jaw and was doing my best to keep her from tearing me apart when it happened. A blinding blue light filled the hallway soon to be followed by the creature’s bellows. The next thing I knew I was covered in ash and the woman’s clothing.[/COLOR][/FONT]

[FONT=Arial][COLOR=navy]Spitting and sputtering I sat up to see a young Asian girl standing down the hallway. She couldn’t have been a day over 15 and was holding a freaking Kalashnikov and scanning the hallway. It was then when she pointed at me and two men wearing what looked like S.W.A.T. gear hurried in and picked me up to my feet. They explained to me what that [I]thing[/I] was, what [I]I[/I] was. They taught me what I was dealing with, how to defend myself and others from it, and how that I may better myself. [/COLOR][/FONT]

[FONT=Arial][COLOR=navy]I am a Hunter. Hope that you aren’t my prey.[/COLOR][/FONT]

[Zeke47]

[B]Name:[/B] Cicero Gordianus

[B]Hunter:[/B] Paladin156

[B]Age:[/B] 25

[B]Hair:[/B] Blond but dyes it, most commonly Blue

[B]Eyes:[/B] Green

[B]Height:[/B] 5'11"

[B]Weight:[/B] 180

[B]Creed:[/B] Defender

[B]Weapons:[/B]
Barrett REC7 with enhanced barrel, scope and forward hand grip for increased accuracy if the situation allows for it. He also carries around a suppressor that is easily attachable if the situation calls for it.
Dual trench knives and a hidden katana behind his back under his clothes
Dual MK23 pistols with enlarged clips, barrel upgrades and high grade suppressors.

[B]Edges:[/B]
Regenerate: Cicero yells out "I Cannot die" sometimes adding a “here” to the end in desperation as he feels like he is losing and taking too much damage, or without it as a challenge to worry his opponents.
Champion: Shouting "I'm invincible, just try to prove me wrong" Cicero taunts all the enemies around him as they feel a compulsion to prove him wrong.
Burn: Cicero says "I am untouchable" yelling untouchable out or says "you dare touch me" if they already are holding him.
Balance: Staring straight at his target Cicero says "I'm the monster in this fight" sapping them of their powers
Discern: Closing his eyes then opening them while saying "No one can hide from my view" Cicero sees beyond normal means.
Pinpoint: Cicero says “You shouldn't leave yourself so open, I can see your weaknesses a mile away”
Hide: Cicero rolls to the side as he says "No one can trace my movements" and disappears near the end of the roll.

[B]Appearance:[/B] Cicero wears a Black Hakama(Traditional Samurai pants meant to hide leg movement) with a belt that has holsters for his guns and trench knives. For his top he wears a cloak that blends in with his pants very well, this also conceals his weapons from view and has a deep hood. Under his cloak he wears a dragon skin extended vest and also has slight protective gear on his legs under his Hakama, most noticeably knee pads that have titanium caps on them.

[B]Biography:[/B] During his childhood Cicero led an odd like as both his parents where high degree black belts of various martial arts. While this didn't effect his early school life, his home life was filled with vigorous training in Ninjitsu, Capoeira, and Kendo and this continued until the end of his secondary eduction in high school. During his primary education he attended a public school and ended up braking up fight quite regularly as he always had a chivalrous spirit and was planning to become a police officer when he grew up.

When he started high school tho his view of the world changed a bit, as his regular school life of breaking up fights was replaced with a life of avoiding them himself but that couldn't always be done. People all over the school where constantly challenging him to fights trying to prove themselves for whatever reasons they had. They usually consisted something like “I'll show you that your martial arts are no match to someone who has fought in the streets all his life” or “They said you know martial arts, they aren't so great” while thinking 'if I beat this guy up, I'll become so cool'. In other words pretty much wanted to show that they where better then the great black belt Cicero who most considered the best fighter in school. Throughout the entire 4 years of high school Cicero only lost one fight and that was when he was greatly outnumbered and other then that he barely ever even got a scratch on him.

[B]Imbuing:[/B] A normal school day, or so it seemed at first was when Cicero was imbued, He was wondering down a hall a little before noon when a girl gently grabbed him from behind. Surprised Cicero turned around to find the girl very close to him as she leaned in gently pecking him on the lips. Blushing slightly Cicero jumped back surprised at the girls abruptness, and asked “what was that f..” but got cut off as the girl put her finger to his lips then quickly motioned for him to follow her as she entered a nearby empty room. Following slowly behind he entered the room as the door closed behind him he turned around as the girl grabbed him and pushed him into a wall.

“You look like you taste good boy” she said just before she kissed him again, this time much deeper, and during the kiss he was sure he felt something sharp with his tongue. Smiling the girl moved down slowly to his neck before sinking her teeth into it. Cicero shuddered with a pain, at first thinking she was just being kinky soon found out different as he quickly became light headed.

Feeling the blood getting sucked out of him Cicero yelled out in desperation swinging his arm across knocking her off him. Stumbling back Cicero looked at his opponent and saw blood dripping down from her mouth. Fear hit him instantly as he quickly grabbed his neck trying to stop the bleeding by applying pressure.

Licking her lips the vampire girl teased “aww don't act that way, u taste so good” as she slowly advanced she bared her fangs and moved tables and chairs out of the way that Cicero was putting between them. The situation couldn't have been worse, an abnormally strong girl was moving towards him as he bled to death and the only exit was on the other side of her. She was fully aware of this and seemed pleased to just follow her prey tormenting it.

His vision now blurry Cicero could barely walk and proceeded to fall backwards onto the ground. “damn” he said he held himself up with one arm behind his back while holding his neck with his other. The girl now over him smiled as she sat down on his lap and pushed him completely onto his back as his arm gave out. Groaning he looked at her as she moved her body up his and looked into his eyes, licking her lips she smiled as he said “no.. please I can't die like this”

Laughing gently she lowered her head to his neck and gently licked at the blood over the wound revealing the 2 punctures in his neck. She jumped in shock as the 2 holes closed themselves up, “hey, how did you do that” she questioned as his dizziness subsided. Acting quickly Cicero used a palm thrust to her side rolling her off just enough to get a kick in pushing her across the ground. Kicking himself off the ground he landed on his feet and was surprised when the girl was already on her feet too when he came up.

“Well thanks for the drink” she smirked as she left the room.

Quickly following from behind he entered the hallway and didn't see her anywhere as it was now filled with other students. Not quite sure y he suddenly closed his eyes and said “You cannot hide from me”. When he opened his eyes he instantly noticed her far down the hall going up the stairs at the end.

As she went up the stairs she looked back over her shoulder noticing Cicero rushing through the crowd after her, smiling to herself she said “how interesting I was planning on letting him live for a bit, but o well” and waited at the top of the stairs.

Cicero ran up the stairs following her as she continued on and went down an abandoned corridor used for supplies. Just as he got to her she turned punching quickly into his gut, cringing he returned the punch into her shoulder which she shrugged off like it was nothing and grabbed at his shoulders. “boy you sure are over confident” she said as she went to bite his neck again.

Turning to the side and stepping one foot down and then putting the other in her stomach he rolled back throwing her over him into a wall. Hitting the wall she fell to the ground catching herself she was already on her feet before Cicero was even on his feet. Going to attack while he was on the ground she was caught by a spinning upward kick from the ground hitting her back into the wall and getting him to his feet. “your not so tough” Cicero said as he landed from the kick and suddenly saw a green line in his vision that pointed to her chest. A circle appearing at the end of the line showing her heart, and he wasn't sure why but he knew for some reason he had to pierce her heart to have a chance of beating her.

Laughing she said “wow I didn't know you where gonna be so fun” running at him and thrusting at him with her fist. Dodging Cicero hit her bicep on a nerve then punched up hitting her under the chin then rolled back saying “theirs noway you can follow my movements” when she looked down from the uppercut she didn't see him anywhere and started to look side to side. Cicero not knowing what happened looked at his arm and saw wisps of something like fog running around him, quickly looking around for something to pierce her with he saw the gyms supply closet and ran to it to grab a javelin.

Hearing movement in the closet she came over to investigate. Just as she turned the corner into it she met a javelin thrust into her chest. Coughing up blood she dropping to her knees as she said “pretty good”. As Cicero looked down at her he saw her smiling, as if she was somehow happy about this, he didn't understand, in fact he almost felt like he didn't want to, how horrible did you have to be to be happy about your own death? Looking closer he saw that the javelin had missed the heart by an inch but had pierced her lung, as she pulled it out she slowly got back up to her feet and let the javelin fall to the ground. “you almost won, u know that don't you” she said with a smile before lunging at him take a bit in hi shoulder missing his neck by a few inches.

'shit' he thought as he pulled away ripping his flesh from the teeth leaving a large cut on his shoulder. Pushing her down he ran past her and down the hallway, sitting on the ground the vampire girl said “damn he really does taste good” as she licked her lips. After this happened they met a few more time and both of them have always survived.

[Horendithas]

[COLOR="Indigo"][SIZE="1"][B]Name:[/B] Marcus Claget

[B]Hunter-Net Name:[/B] Havoc404

[B]Age:[/B] 32

[B]Eyes: [/B]Hazel

[B]Hair:[/B] Brown with reddish streaks.

[B]Height:[/B] 6’1”
[B]
Weight: [/B]190
[B]
Creed:[/B] Avenger

[B]Weapons: [/B]

Research Desert Eagle Tiger - .577 Magnum; 8 round magazine
Jericho 941 “Baby Eagle” - .40 S&W; 12 round magazine
Marcus primarily uses the Jericho and tends to only pull out the heavier weapon at need. The desert eagle is concealed under his over jacket on his left side while the Jericho is in a holster under his left arm.

Working as a truck driver lead to Marcus picking up the basics of street fighting and though not truly proficient he’s fairly decent with his fists and any object he can find to use as a makeshift weapon. He prefers the guns whenever possible since some things just don’t like to die like they should.

[B]Edges: [/B]

[B]Burn:[/B] This is the first edge that Marcus used shortly after being imbued. There is no particular word that he uses but rather an intense desire to protect himself will trigger it. At first it was only under great stress but now he can focus on the image of flames in order to trigger the change of his blood to magma and thus generate intense heat.
[B]
Smite:[/B] Marcus focuses his thoughts on what he wants to blow up and releases it with either a tiny nod or snap of his right fingers. Depends on whether or not he’s holding a weapon or not as to which method he uses.

[B]Smolder:[/B] Marcus thinks about the times he has driven through fog so dense one couldn’t see the road in order to send thick black smoke out in all directions from his own body.

[B]Balance:[/B] When Marcus is overwhelmed with a smirk he’ll concentrate on the phrase: “I think not” in order to level out the playing field and disable the abilities of his enemies.
[B]
Rejuvenate:[/B] This edge Marcus does not have conscious control over. He has managed to use it a few times but at the moment the fine control of it eludes him and he has learned to not rely on it.

[B]Expose:[/B] Marcus often wishes that he could just snap his fingers and let people see the freaks for what they are but he has yet to realize the potential of this edge.

[B]Cleanse:[/B] Marcus is not aware of this edge yet. He’s never been poisoned so there has been no need for it to become active.

[B]Appearance:[/B] [URL="http://img246.imageshack.us/img246/6954/marcusclagetrh7.jpg"][U]Click me![/U][/URL] Marcus tends to wear jeans and a dark tee shirt with a lightweight long jacket. He does have light weight body armor, similar to what police use, but prefers to avoid wearing it unless needed. He doesn’t like to be weighed down and instead relies more on agility and speed to help give him an advantage.

[B]Biography:[/B] Before being imbued, Marcus was a truck driver, working along the west coast of the US. He had no close relatives, and though open and friendly he kept to himself. He was born and raised in Dallas Tx, but has long since lost the southern drawl that is associated with those from the south. When excited or hard pressed he has been known to slip back into that form of speech.

Marcus became a driver for the simple reason that he hated staying put and had no interest in joining the military just to travel around. When he wasn’t working he was always off somewhere seeing new places and exploring, just as he was always picking up various books to take along for reading while working.

[B]Imbuing:[/B] It hasn’t quite been a year since the [I]accident[/I] as Marcus has come to think of his imbuing. He had been doing like he always had for the past five years, taking a load of goods from Salt Lake City, Utah down to Reno, Nevada. It was one of many runs he had made before along the west coast of the US. It had been a long week so he had stopped for the night at one of the last rest areas before the city proper to park his rig and get some rest.

He thought little of the stop as he spent a bit of time gathering news from other drivers and snagging a bit to eat out of the tiny little fridge in his cab before finally calling it a night to get some rest. Fatigue was a constant on the road, since a tired driver was a dead driver he had become accustomed to getting sleep whenever needed. There was no regular sleeping schedule for him with his job. It was early evening and darkness was starting to descend.

Marcus was woken several hours later by something shaking the truck and the sound of someone yelling fire. Curious as to what the fuss was over he got up and looked out to see that someone’s trailer was on fire. At that moment a tire exploded, rocking his rig again even though it was a parked a good hundred feet away and he realized that the shaking he had felt before was probably when one of the other tires had blown.

He was about to crawl back into his bunk and continue sleeping when something odd caught his attention, a figure far too close to the flames of the burning trailer that didn’t look right. He slipped his jeans and shoes on and got out of the truck to go and take a closer look. Oddly, none of the other drivers watching the spectacle of the trailer burning down seemed to notice the human shaped creature or rather if they did, they thought nothing of it.

“[B]Just what the hell is that thing?[/B]” He had half said to himself as he moved closer, the heat of the flames washing over him in what had seemed like an oddly comforting manner at the time.

“[B]Hey idiot, don’t get so close.[/B]” It had been another driver, the older man had given Marcus a look that plainly said he was being a fool.

“[B]What about them?[/B]” He had nodded towards the thing that by now had him wondering just what the hell was going on. It had to be some odd dream; stuff like that just didn’t exist. He had still been feeling slightly out of it and he shook his head in an attempt to wake himself up more.

[I]Damn, either I’m having one hell of a dream or I need a stiff drink.[/I] Or so he had thought at the time.

“[B]What of it? If that damn fool wants to get killed trying to save his rig that’s his problem.[/B]”

“[B]Idiot, that’s not a person, it’s a freaking thing![/B]” Marcus exclaimed without giving it a thought, even today he still wondered how people just couldn't see the creatures for what they truly were.

Looking back now he almost wished he had kept his mouth shut. Like a moth to a flame, overhearing those words had drawn that monstrosity to him in a flash. Moving far faster than any human it had rushed him and Marcus had found himself suddenly caught by the neck and driven back into the side of the tanker behind him.

He barely had time to register the foul breath, rotting flesh and razor sharp teeth and nails that were within seconds of tearing his throat apart. Something inside him had broken loose and with a flash his blood had turned to magma, scorching the creature holding him. It had also, unfortunately, set the tanker behind him off, destroying most of the trucks parked there along with anyone in range.

Seven people died that night, caught in the ball of flames caused by the massive explosion. Eight if you included the monster that had attacked him. Marcus, to this day, assumes that whatever happens to his body to generate so much heat had incinerated any debris tossed his way from the explosion that night. He has since then found his way into the network of hunters and is traveling around the country exterminating the nightmares that roam the earth.[/SIZE][/COLOR]

[DeLarge]

[SIZE=1][B]Name:[/B] Jackson "Jax" Gray
[B]Hunter-Net Name:[/B] Wanderer59
[B]Age:[/B] 40
[B]Hair:[/B] Jet-black with salt-and-pepper speckling at the temples
[B]Eyes:[/B] Incredibly dark brown, almost black
[B]Height:[/B] 6' 0"
[B]Weight:[/B] 175 lbs
[B]Creed:[/B] Judge

[B]Weapons:[/B] A long oak staff, fairly notched and scuffed from repeated use. He also carries a selection of knives and daggers inside his jacket, and a pair of Smith & Wesson Model 500 revolvers, loaded with silver-coated bullets. These are the weapons he carries on his person regularly, however, he has a large stockpile of different weapons in his apartment.

[B]Edges: [/B]
[B]Smite[/B] - Jax closes his fist, aims it at an enemy, and then flicks it open, and either speaks or shouts the word "Ardeo," depending on how powerful he wishes the attack to be.

[B]Cleave[/B] - As he concentrates, and whispers the word "Adhaero," his staff explodes into flame, burning everything it touches. However, he has to be careful, as it doesn't discriminate between the freaks and other organic matter, such as plants or other humans.

[B]Trail[/B] - By aiming his staff at an enemy and saying the word "Insisto," an invisible trail begins to leak off the enemy, like smoke.

[B]Discern[/B] - He doesn't need to say anything for this one - he simply closes his eyes, concentrates and opens them again.

[B]Blaze[/B] - He simply says "Amplio," and as long as he is looking at a light source, it explodes into a miniature sun of burning energy.

[B]Rejuvenate[/B] - Jax simply needs to focus his energy on any injured part of his body, and it will heal over. Jax hasn't quite mastered this Edge, and as such any injury will still leave a scar. He's never needed it to, but he's also pretty sure it won't be able to grow limbs back.

[B]Ward[/B] - He throws his hand up in front of him, palm towards his face, and a shield of blazing blue light appears from it. Again, not that strong, and can only withstand physical impact, not electrical or thermal energy, for example.

Jax is a powerhouse - he isn't that great with using finesse in his attacks, usually relying on having a lot more power in his use of Edges. He also prefers the aggressive approach, and as such doesn't use his defensive edges a whole lot.

[B]Appearance:[/B] Jax has the appearance of a man older than forty - his years of fighting have left him looking grizzled and battle-scarred. His face is tanned, weather-beaten and pitted with deep lines and scars, and his black hair is trimmed relatively short and spiky. A rough beard covers the lower half of his face as well.

He is well-muscled from combat, and wears a simple black long-sleeved t-shirt and dark jeans, his feet clad in heavy leather boots. Generally when he ventures out, he wears an armoured vest, a complex Kevlar weave which has proven very useful in fighting against the freaks. He also throws on a black leather jacket with patches of the same Kevlar weave on the inside, over a hooded zip-up jacket. He has a pair of fingerless gloves which he puts on when fighting as well.

[B]Biography:[/B] Most kids don't have the kind of upbringing I had. Then again, most kids have the luxury of knowing their parents.

I was brought up from the age of eighteen months by my uncle Christian. He was very much of the opinion that love should be tough, and respect should be earned, and as such he was constantly putting me through my paces, training me to be a better, stronger, smarter version of what I was. He was an ex-military man, or so I assumed, and not a kind one by any stretch of the imagination.

I remember I used to sneak around his big country house, and try to listen in on the conversations he had with the regular visitors there, but could only ever glean a few words from each conversation. However, one word I heard over and over again was "Hunter." I didn't know what it meant, and puzzled over it for a number of years, trying desperately to discover more about these "Hunters."

One day, aged just fifteen, I found out the meaning of the word, and uncovered a whole world that would swallow me whole...

[B]Imbuing: [/B]I remember it as if it was yesterday, because it is the day my whole life was turned upside down, and the day what little of my family that remained was torn away from me.

I had heard a commotion downstairs while I was washing and dressing myself for the day's exertions, so I began to make my way down the huge flight of stairs very slowly. My uncle had some visitors over, and I assumed that they were arguing over some small thing, but Christian had always told me to be on my guard at all times.

I reached the bottom of the stairs, and the ruckus seemed to grow in size and ferocity, moving from harsh words in raised voices to all-out acts of physical violence - I heard furniture being smashed and the all-too familiar sound of bone on bone as blows were exchanged.

Taking a look round the kitchen door is my single biggest regret in life. What I was witness to that day will haunt me for the rest of my days, even though I have seen much worse happening in the streets. The reason is this: those other times were strangers. This was my uncle.

The instant I looked round the door, I saw my uncle and three other men fighting for their lives against a pair of humanoid creatures, but ones which were not entirely human, I could tell this just from looking at them. They seemed skinnier, more lithe and sinewy than a human, their skin much, much paler, and a set of enormous fangs poking out from behind each of their lips. Blood gushed from a wound in my uncle's arm, and a similar stream of crimson dribbled from the mouth of one of the creatures.

In all the confusion, I never remembered it, but I was always told my uncle had seen me, and raised his hand to throw a shield of energy around me. I believe that this was true because he took his attention away from the creatures for one second, and they took their chance. They leapt on my uncle, and in a flurry of blood, muscle and entrails, they ripped him apart. His lifeblood cascaded from his mangled body, and the creatures lapped it up like dogs.

It was then that the other two men saw me, as my body coursed with white-hot rage. I wished death upon the creatures, seeing that they were filthy beasts who had no right to walk alongside the living, and all I remember is seeing the pair of them screaming and disintegrating into a cloud of ash and brimstone.

By all accounts, it was then that I blacked out, and when I woke up I was in the care of the three Hunters that had been visiting my uncle, and until I was twenty and able to look after myself I was bounced around the care of a number of different Hunters, who taught me about the secret order - the lifespan of the average Hunter is not very long at all.

Since the age of twenty, I have been, shall we say, "wandering the earth," dealing out my own particular brand of judgement against the freaks. Just pray that I don't find you guilty.

--

I made the changes you suggested, Talon. Hope this is better for you.
[/SIZE]

[Akieen Cloud]

[COLOR="Navy"][FONT="Comic Sans MS"]Name: Amia Rain

Hunter-Net Name: Wild 143

Age: 22

Hair: Blonde

Eyes: Silver/Blue

Height: 5'6

Weight: 156

Creed: Defender

Weapons: 2 Colt 45s, throwing daggers, and two broad swords, and steel studded gloves she wears at all times for hand to hand combat; also on a rare occasion she carries a cross bow with silver tipped arrows.

Edges:
Impact: She slams her fist into the ground.

Trial: She get down to the ground and puts her hand flat on it.

Ward: More of a reflexive edge she activates it when she is hurt or if someone else is hurt to give a small time of protection for healing.

Rejuvenate: she runs her hand along whatever wound she has to heal it.

Burn: She uses this edge when she is most angry, grabbing her enemy by a limb she yells out 'Burn in hell.'

Brand: when hunting with her bow she looks at her target and whispers 'I see you'

Appearance: [URL="http://i217.photobucket.com/albums/cc274/dragon36097/Blonde%20Haired%20Anime%20Girl/warrior-angel2.jpg"]Amia, just without the wings[/URL]

Biography: Amia was born in NC and raised there as well, she grew up on a farm and worked outside all the time insuring her to be physically fit. Also a lover of food she grew up and became a simple cook, after her cooking school she worked in a few high class restaurants till she got enough money to open her own which she put her whole heart and soul into, working day and night on the small cafe she loved it with all her heart and was devastated when it mysteriously caught fire and burned to the ground.

Imbuing: Amia was on her knees watching the flames lick the sky as her cafe burned to the ground when she felt a cold chill run up her spine, getting up and looking around her she wiped the tears from her face she hardened her look as she strained her eyes and ears to find out what spooked her. She had a split second to cover her head when something came flying at her, she gasped as it went flying back, standing she approached it cautiously when it lunged and pinned her to the ground, screaming she held up her hands and pushed against her attacker only to be covered in gooey blood as it splattered. Not much later she was found by a group of people and told she had powers to help save the world. To this day she sometimes doubts it but who is she to argue with her fate.
[/FONT][/COLOR]

Hope this is okay, lemme know if I need to change anything

[Talon]

[color=crimson]Sign-ups are now closed. I have reserved Gavin and Aaryana a sign-up, and I have received a sign-up via PM from Allamorph which he shall post following this message. I thank everyone who has done so thus far. Given the nature of this RPG, and the direction I wish to take it in, I have vastly expanded my original expectations on how many people I wish to participate in this venture. Following the posting of this list, I will -not- be accepting any more reservations or sign-ups via PM. The list is as follows:

[b]Raiha[/b] - Manjusra - Hermit
[b]Indi[/b] - Marcus - Avenger
[b]Allamorph[/b] - Nicholas - Wayward
[b]Engel[/b] - Thomas - Judge
[b]DeLarge[/b] - Jackson - Judge
[b]Arichan16[/b] - Gwendolyn - Martyr
[b]Neptune[/b] - James - Avenger
[b]Zephyr[/b] - Amanda - Judge
[b]inwardscream[/b] - Martin - Defender
[b]GuyYouMetOnline[/b] - Vaxla - Wayward
[b]Darren[/b] - Kazimir - Innocent
[b]Knuckles' Girl[/b] - Amia - Defender

You will notice that I have not chosen one Wayward or the other. My reasons for this are as follows; the sheer number of people in the RPG is astounding, compared to any other I have ever performed. This, in my eyes, gives an expanded opportunity for character interactions and good old RP fun. Given the stresses of having to RP a borderline psychotic, and convincingly at that, I have afforded this chance to both Allamorph and Guy in the hopes that it will make things more interesting. That, and I like psychos. In any case, sign-ups are now closed. I will delete and repost this list once Gavin and Aaryanna post their sign-ups. The RPG will begin either tomorrow, or Friday.

In the words of the immortal Bruce Campbell, "Gimme some sugar, baby."[/color]

[Allamorph]

[FONT=Arial]Sweet. Guess that means I'll be playing my hand now.[/FONT]



[SIZE="1"][U][B]Name:[/B][/U] Nicholas Flaherty
[U][B]Hunter-Net Name:[/B][/U] none
[U][B]Age:[/B][/U] 36
[U][B]Hair:[/B][/U] Medium-brown
[U][B]Eyes:[/B][/U] Grey; the exact hue changes depending on the light.
[U][B]Height:[/B][/U] 5?11?
[U][B]Weight:[/B][/U] 196 lbs.

[U][B]Creed:[/B][/U] Wayward

[U][B]Weapons: [/B][/U]

[B][URL="http://i195.photobucket.com/albums/z158/Allamorph/Misc/ruger_blackhawk.jpg"][COLOR="Blue"]Ruger Blackhawk single action revolver[/COLOR][/URL][/B] ? .44 Magnum; standard six rounds
Nicholas considers this throwback to the age of the cowboy a psychological slap in the face to the freaks he hunts; the action of cocking before each shot makes his judgment more deliberate, more inexorable than the quick, easy crack-crack of automatic fire. It also gave spawn to his catch phrase just before he executes his mark: ?Click, click, boom.?

[B][URL="http://i195.photobucket.com/albums/z158/Allamorph/Misc/ranger.jpg"][COLOR="Blue"]Broadsword and Knife[/COLOR][/URL][/B] ? Fascinated from an early age by the Knights Templar, Nicholas acquired the weapons driven by the belief that he is the necessary revival of the order. He carries this tandem-sheathed duo at the climax of his hunt, to swat aside any less significant freaks or human lackeys.

[B][URL="http://i195.photobucket.com/albums/z158/Allamorph/Misc/knuckles.jpg"][COLOR="Blue"]Brass knuckles[/COLOR][/URL][/B] ? Nicholas added this weapon for his own amusement after renting [I]Constantine[/I]. The knuckles are the same basic design, except for the metal; Nicholas altered the specifications to silver-plated steel, for obvious reasons.

Nicholas? arsenal is not necessarily restricted to these weapons. He uses what he has available at the time, and he is not averse to possible compulsory additions. He also possesses a moderate degree of expertise in martial arts, since he took several classes in his youth?as teenagers are apt to do.

[U][B]Edges:[/B][/U]

[B]Foresee/Auger/Delve:[/B] Nicholas had experienced visions of the past and future in dreams all throughout his youth. His ?Imbuement? marked both the start of his conscious visions and his attempts to control them; the visions are best facilitated by external influence, such as items of some significance or a certain room. He does not see them as separate abilities, but facets of the same talent, and simply refers to it as his Sight.

[B]Demand:[/B] His main offensive Edge. Surviving onlookers have likened Nicholas?s exercise of this supernatural augmentation to a cat spying a bird across a field. His engaging smile disappears and his eyes become cold and hard as he stalks his prey, batting aside the occasional hurled trash can like a plastic bottle.

As of now, Nicholas?s years of working solo have given him no instance to discover other latent edges. However, times change....

[U][B]Appearance:[/B][/U]

Nicholas stands at about five-foot eleven and looks completely normal. From his hair to his grey eyes to his average physique, Nicholas is almost unremarkable, just another face in the crowd. His posture is not towering, or threatening, or stooped, or wary, or anything that would draw attention to him in any way, and his casual dress is equally forgettable, so that any observer?s eyes simply slide past him without consciously registering his presence. He has no facial hair, no scars, no piercings or tattoos or any other identifying marks; his only unique feature is his countenance, which is almost always quiet yet warm and inviting.

[U][B]Biography: [/B][/U]

Nicholas grew up in a Christian home, and though the Flahertys were not exactly devout, Nicholas was well-grounded in the doctrine and held firmly to his beliefs. In school he was known for his calm, rational outlook and his staunch will; he sometimes joked with his friends that not even the threat of expulsion bothered him, should such a situation ever arise. His friends always laughed and forgot, since Nicholas was usually the peacemaker when trouble arose and never held a grudge to anyone.

After graduation, Nicholas went to college on several scholarships, declaring his major as Criminal Justice, to no one?s surprise. He adapted to the life easily and became somewhat popular in his dorm as the guy who solved problems. And naturally he paid close attention to the frequent discussions of which professors were easy and which were hard, and which were to be avoided at all costs.

One of the latter group taught a class required for Nicholas? major, and was one of only two who offered it. When the professor?s name came up in discussion, veteran students claimed he had a vendetta against students; he would allow no one to pass with higher than a D, and he only permitted five students that distinction. When Nicholas remarked that this was both wrong and fundamentally flawed, his peers agreed but mourned that nothing could be done since the professor was tenured, and it was best to just try and avoid him. Nicholas replied there was always a way out, and that he?d think of something. He refused to speak further for the remainder of the semester.

Nicholas took the class the next term under the offending professor. The reports had been right; the man was openly antagonistic during lecture and discussion, and repeatedly threw information at his students with less than half an hour?s warning, if that. Nicholas took pains to participate in all discussions, studied fervently, and attempted to ace every test?though he was never certain of the results, since the professor kept all papers.

It proved close enough, for the man called Nicholas out the week after the third test for allegedly cheating. Nicholas denied everything and offered to take a second test. When the professor made a remark about cheating again, Nicholas suggested an oral exam on the spot, to which the man quickly agreed; the chance to publicly humiliate an upstart student was apparently too good to pass up, which Nicholas had hoped to be true.

Nicholas held up under almost twenty minutes of rapid questioning, never missing a beat. Towards the end he began to provide answers before the questions were finished and started to press the man with counter-questions of his own; at any hesitation on the professor?s part Nicholas provided the correct answer immediately and calmly shot a second one, and then a third, finally delving into the professor?s own research and reciting it from memory only to meticulously shred everything with a steady stream of counter-arguments. Furious, the professor cut him off and began to assault Nicholas verbally, but after a few minutes of silence Nicholas withdrew a tape-recorder from his pocket, smiled, and left the room.

That class was the only one Nicholas failed in his collegiate career. It was also the last class taught by that professor. Nicholas presented the tape, along with others he had amassed over the semester, to the dean of the university, and by means of unofficial channels the professor was pressured to resign. The man was unable to find another position anywhere else, and a year later received twenty seconds on the six o? clock news after committing suicide.

Said Nicholas: [B]?He was in the way.?[/B]

[U][B]Imbuing:[/B][/U]

The dream he?d had last night had been the most intense to date. Nicholas had felt like he?d been in a whirlwind, surrounded by chaos and screaming and unable to even figure out where he was, let alone do anything to help, and he?d woken up in a cold sweat. He?d had it again as soon as he?d returned to sleep with the same results, and now this morning he couldn?t shake the fervid images, exerting a continuous effort of will just to keep his eyes on the road. As much as he would like to sort out the raging tempest, such things were best not done while barreling down the highway at eighty miles an hour.

The stately house up to which he pulled his bronze Impala thirty minutes later looked as though a tree had crashed into its side?provided the tree was about ten feet around and had been swung by Godzilla. He had come out to interview the residing family, the Riddells, about a bizarre murder they had supposedly witnessed three days ago, but no one he?d spoke with on the force had mentioned that their house was under construction. Or needed to be.

He swiped his automatic from his glove box, checked it, and closed the car quietly, creeping carefully to the front patio.

He nudged the door with his toe and it swung lazily open. Not a good sign. Reflex led him to clear the room and move swiftly to the kitchen.

His stomach churned.

Most of Mrs. Riddell lay in the floor on the near side of the mini-bar, facedown. Just as well, since her head and half her torso now provided the new macabre décor. Forcing himself to look away before he added colors of his own to the mix, Nicholas noted that the exterior damage to the house was actually a hole where the sink wall should have been, as if the building had simply been ripped away. There was also a large indistinct tread in the ichor surrounding the corpse; good material for Homicide, he thought. The room was otherwise clear, so he moved to the bedroom hallway.

As he passed and cleared the first and second bedroom?the former belonging to a teenage girl, judging from the typical wangsty paraphernalia; the latter her younger sister?s and decidedly pink?he became aware of what sounded like snuffling coming from the master bedroom, at the end of the hall on the right. He approached the door the same as he had entered the house, and as it swung open he caught a glimpse of the tall, hulking backside of something that could not possibly be human.

Nicholas froze in disbelief; the . . . thing . . . was sniffing and gnawing on something held up to its misshapen maw, something that Nicholas slowly realized was the body of the husband. The creature was oblivious to his presence, but Nicholas could no longer think or move, only watch in disgusted stupor as it ate.

Air brakes sounded out on the street, accompanied by children?s laughter.

[I]?The bus. The daughter.[/I]

The creature spun, slinging aside the half-eaten cadaver and locking its sunken eyes on Nicholas. Nicholas? gun whipped up and he started shooting, but he was firing in panic, and half his shots went wide. Three bullets struck the beast in the arm and chest, but they only infuriated it, and it cleared the room in a leap, swatting Nicholas back into the room to crash against the bed?s corner post.

Nicholas? back screamed at him; he pushed himself up to one elbow and watched as the monster tore its way through the front of the house. The gaping hole it left opened onto the front lawn, and as his head spun he could hear the screaming of a young girl. He saw the creature snatch her up, and he stared, aghast, as it ripped her in half.

His dream.

He had to stop the demon?for that?s what it had to be. It had left him, the threat, alone to go after weaker prey. It was hunting the family, not exhibiting wild judgment, and he had to stop it before it got the eldest daughter. It was hurting people he should be protecting; it was in his way.

Pain flared in his chest and he roared in surprise, but his thoughts focused only on the monster outside, and he stood, his breathing slowing. Against the wall lay a wooden bat; his gun was empty, so he caught it up and followed the path cleared by the beast.

It was just standing in the middle of the lawn, holding the girl?s upper body over its head and letting the blood pour into its mouth. The sight reviled Nicholas, and that revulsion fueled his first blow.

He broke as many bones as he could, and then some?never saying a word.[/SIZE]

[Aaryanna]

[COLOR="DarkGreen"][FONT="Book Antiqua"][B]Name:[/B] Jonathan Frances (goes by Jon)
[B]Hunter-Net Name[/B]: Searcher430
[B]Age:[/B] 29
[B]Hair: [/B]Blonde
[B]Eyes: [/B]Blue
[B]Height:[/B] 5?8?
[B]Weight:[/B] 168
[B]Creed:[/B] Visionary

[U][B]Weapons:[/B] [/U]

[URL="http://world.guns.ru/handguns/barak.jpg"]IMI/IWI SP-21 Barak Pistol[/URL] .40SW; 10 clip magazine
[URL="http://www.sz-wholesale.com/uploadFiles/M9%20bayonet_%20military%20knife_%20hunting%20knives_118.jpg"]M9 bayonet military hunting knives[/URL]
Jonathan carries a pair of both the guns and hunting knives at all times, carefully concealed underneath his loosely fitting jeans and blue striped long sleeved work shirt. Think of it as the shirt being long enough to make him look scruffy and unkempt, when in reality it covers where the hilt to the blades and guns are strapped around his waist.

[U][B]Edges:[/B][/U]

[B]Foresee:[/B] This edge is something that Jonathan uses by virtue of looking at a bad situation and thinking or saying the phrase ?what if?? This results in him seeing two possible paths and therefore knowing which one is the lesser of two evils. After all, two choices doesn?t mean you?re going to get out of the mess without a scratch, it?s just what part of your body is going to get the most damage that determines the path he takes.

[B]Pinpoint:[/B] This edge is activated when Jonathan is up against a particularly nasty creature that just doesn?t want to die. He refers to it as ?results please? using an oddly polite tone of voice when he says the words. This lets him see just where to hit them to take them down.

[B]Delve:[/B] This edge is to Jonathan is like looking under a microscope. He sees it as looking backwards and merely thinks or says the word ?analyze? in order to see the past of a given place.

[B]Cleave:[/B] This is Jonathan?s main offensive edge, when everything else has failed he will call forth a burning slender blade that resembles a rapier. This is done by merely opening his hand and willing it to appear. He really dislikes using it since it draws too much attention when in play.

[B]Restore:[/B] This edge is not active and Jonathan is unaware of it, probably because he?s never been hurt enough to actually need it.

[B]Hide:[/B] This edge is not active yet either, not that Jonathan hasn?t had times when he wished he could hide, if only to escape unscathed.

[U][B]Appearance:[/B][/U]

Jonathan is 5?8? and of a medium build. His lighter weight though a disadvantage in hand to hand combat, lends itself to greater agility and ease of slipping into spots that his more bulkier friends would have trouble getting into. He favors baggy jeans, hiking boots and loose fitting work shirts that hang down far enough to help conceal the weapons he carries.

[U][B]Biography:[/B][/U]

Jonathan is of German decent though he is a second generation American. Raised by his parents in East Texas he later moved to Salt Lake City, Utah upon finishing High School to attend University. The move was more to get away from home than anything since there were plenty of schools he could have gone to in Texas.

A bit of a science geek, he was always fascinated by how things worked. His greatest interest was in different forms of energy and he studied diligently to later become one of the researchers for exploring different forms of energy production for practical use. Most of said research was focused on alternate forms of generating accepted forms of power while some was theoretical.

Jonathan is calm and collected and believes in acting only after all other options have been explored first. He is the type to stop and look for the truth instead of simply reacting. He can and will deal with the horrors that infest the Earth, but not before attempting to see if they truly are a danger or not.

[U][B]Imbuing:[/B][/U]

Jonathan had never really believed in the rumors that were floating around at the research facility he had been hired to work at nearly three years ago. It just seemed too unbelievable that there would be anything shady at a facility dedicated to finding better means to keep up with the constant increase in the demand for more power.

His current project included a type of insulation for underground cables for carrying power that if successful would help reduce some of the current issues with forward and reflected power. This part of the center was built out in the desert and he had arrived early to get the required monthly tests out of the way.

It was only seven am but the temperature was already ninety degrees and climbing as he crawled out of his battered red Honda civic. There were three other cars already there in front of the small building that gave access to the underground facility.

?[B]Great,[/B]? he muttered upon seeing that one of them was a silver gray Mercedes. ?[B]This is what we don?t need, one of the idiotic project managers[/B].?

That was the only drawback to his job, being under a couple of guys who even when presented with credible results, insisted on seeing it for themselves as if you were too stupid to get the facts straight in your report. His department had the highest turnover rate in the entire organization and he wondered if it would be his turn to quit in disgust since he had forwarded the latest report.

He took a moment to grab his small cooler off the back seat, lock the doors and then let himself into the small building. Another moment was spent to put his food and belongings away in the locker before he started heading down the stairs to where the main control room was.

Jonathan was only halfway down the stairs when he was partially overcome by a startling image in his mind of previous workers who had quit. He saw them dying inside the building. [I]What the hell?[/I] A wave of nausea nearly sent him to his knees as the gruesome vision of them being torn to pieces before being eaten by something that didn?t exist flashed behind his eyes.

He gripped the railing tightly as tremors ran through his body. With a shake of his head over the absurd images he let go, took several deep breaths and then headed down the stairs quickly as if running away from what he had seen.

?[B]That?s not possible,[/B]? he reassured himself. ?[B]They quit, they didn?t die here at the hands of some freak of nature that doesn?t even exist.[/B]? He took another deep breath and opened the door.

Nothing could have prepared him for the sight that met his eyes when he opened the door and found the same thing he had seen in his vision moments ago doing the same to his coworkers. The thing, he had no words for what it was, looked up immediately upon the door opening.

Bile rose up the back of his throat at the sight of what was left of his friends and Jonathan took one step back in fear before the thing launched itself at him with an ungodly screech. In that moment he saw his own death in its eyes unless he raised his right hand in front of him.

Propelled by fear, he did what he saw in his mind?s eye and to his shock a slender flaming blade appeared in his right hand. He had barely closed his hand on the hilt when the creature slammed into it, the force of its momentum impaling it on the blade as it knocked him off his feet.

Jonathan lost track of what he was doing as he frantically pulled it free and then kept slashing the thing repeatedly before he was finally convinced it was dead. Then after losing his breakfast to the floor, he fled the facility without looking back.
[CENTER]
**********[/CENTER]
And there we go, if you need anything tweaked of changed just let me know Talon.[/FONT][/COLOR]

[Gavin]

[INDENT][SIZE="1"][b]Name:[/b] Brother Sebastien Morrel.

[b]Hunter-Net Name:[/b] TheWord234.

[b]Age:[/b] 34.

[b]Hair:[/b] Dark brown, although his head is closely shaven.

[b]Eyes:[/b] Hazel.

[b]Height:[/b] 1.85 metres. [6’½”]

[b]Weight:[/b] 83 kilograms. [182lbs.]

[b]Creed:[/b] Redeemer.

[b]Weapons:[/b]
[list][*][size=1][font=verdana][I]Words[/I]: Redeemers exist to save the souls of the Hunted, walking the middle ground between warrior and priest. For a Redeemer battle is to be chosen as the final alternative, after all other attempts to save a Hunted by their own volition has failed. For a Redeemer, their voice is their first and most-favoured weapon, carefully chosen words to show the Hunted how wrong their existence on Earth is. Quotes from the sacred scripture are often included, as these are said to make Hunted more susceptible to an oration. [/size][/font]


[*][size=1][font=verdana][I]Trench Knives[/I]: Sadly for the Redeemers, their words do not always, or perhaps even often reach the hearts of those they would seek to save. To survive such encounters, Redeemers train themselves to become adepts of close-quarters-combat. In Sebastien‘s case, he prefers the use of a pair of silver-edged trench-knives, as can be seen [url=http://ecx.images-amazon.com/images/I/4190%2BzQNaIL._SS500_.jpg]here[/url][/size][/font]


[*][size=1][font=verdana][I]Flashlight[/I]: Combined with the Edge “Blaze“, this might as well be a portable sun.[/size][/font]


[*][size=1][font=verdana][i]Beretta 92[/i]: The only modern aspect of Sebastien‘s arsenal, chosen more so out of the need to add range. Uses silver and tracer rounds for maximum effectiveness against Hunted. [/size][/font][/list]

[b]Edges:[/b]

[list][*][size=1][font=verdana][I]Becalm[/I]: Closes his eyes and whispers “Peace.“[/size][/font]


[*][size=1][font=verdana][I]Insinuate[/I]: Points at target and states simply “I see your sins.”[/size][/font]


[*][size=1][font=verdana][I]Confront[/I]: An outstretched open hand facing the target with the words “I forbid it.”[/size][/font]


[*][size=1][font=verdana][I]Radiate[/I]: Places his hand over his heart saying “Shine”. [/size][/font]


[*][size=1][font=verdana][I]Blaze[/I]: Clasps hands together as if in prayer and yells “He is the light !!” Tracer rounds used only after this.[/size][/font]


[*][size=1][font=verdana][I]Respire[/I]: Extends hand towards target followed by simply “To me.”[/size][/font]


[*][size=1][font=verdana][I]Cleanse[/I]: Runs hand over the area where the poison was introduced with the words “It harms me not.”[/size][/font][/list]

[b]Appearance:[/b] [url=http://fc04.deviantart.com/fs17/f/2007/187/0/7/Softer__Softest_by_petitescargot.jpg]Sebastien[/url]

Gifted with a decent build and height, training and constant exposure to the Hunted have since developed Sebastien into a highly athletic and physically capable individual. Despite this, Sebastien has an almost preternatural aura of calm and good-will about him, and is most often seen with a benevolent and contented smile upon his face. As a member, albeit in name only, of the Franciscans, Sebastien wears the habit of a monk for his everyday life.

When actually engaged in activities as a Redeemer, Sebastien dons a black habit, although the interior of the garment is rather different to his regular Franciscan robe. Heavy duty materials capable of resisting the wear-and-tear expected in their line of work, although by no means welcome are used to ensure survival, while the habit itself is used as much for symbolism as well as identification for other Redeemers or Hunters.

[b]Biography:[/b] Redeemers are an oddity among Hunters for many reasons, the most obvious being their self-ascribed mission to save the Hunted where possible as opposed to smiting them as is the case with their Hunter brethren. The other major difference is that all Redeemers belong, whether by blood or allegiance to a single “Order” under the protection and sanctification of the Vatican, although their existence is known to only a handful of members within the Church’s echelons.

Sebastien himself is aligned by blood to the group, both his parents were members, although neither were Imbued as is the case with the majority of the Order’s members. Born in Marseilles, France, Sebastien quickly adapted to the double-life he was expected to lead, simultaneously being educated in the manner of “both worlds” as he came to refer to them by. As a child he was fascinated by the Redeemers, one of whom would occasionally stay with the Morrel family while working in Marseilles, as was the custom among the Order.

At seventeen, roughly a fortnight after completing his Baccalaureat exams, Sebastien was sent to Rome to be tested as to his suitability to be a Redeemer, in other words, when put into direct contact with the Hunted, would he be Imbued. Accompanying him were two veteran Redeemers, an American referred to as Sister Michelle and an Italian, Brother Arturo to ensure he survive his trial.

Though somewhat shaken by the encounter with real Hunted for the first time, his successful entrance into the Order’s ranks as a apprentice Redeemer was certainly more than he had expected prior to being tested. His next four years were composed of a myriad of training regimens from the Order’s doctrines, to multi-lingual fluency, close-combat and of course, drawing on the power of his Edges. It was a brutal time, particularly hunting in groups with other apprentices and fully-trained Redeemers, but without the training, he would certainly have died long before now.

Completing him training, and being inducted fully into the Order at the age of twenty-one, Sebastien Morrel became to the outside world, Brother Sebastien Morrel, an unremarkable Franciscan monk as cover for his genuine identity and work for the Church. As with all Redeemers, Sebastien has since been dispatched to different locations all over the world where his skills are needed. Once a year however he does return to Marseille to see his parents.

[b]Imbuing:[/b]
[quote][SIZE="1"][CENTER][B]Journal of Sebastien Morrel 28/6/1991[/B][/CENTER]
It is a strange feeling to join their ranks, a mixture of childlike elation and very adult fear as to what is now expected of me. Perhaps if one of my parents, or our close friends had been a Redeemer, or if I had, at one time taken the opportunity to discuss it with one of the Redeemers who had visited our home before now I would feel better, I would understand more, but they were not, and I did not, so I must simply accept what comes next.

My “guardians” as they referred to themselves were introduced to me shortly before we left the safety of the monastery on the outskirts of the city. Sister Michelle is likely in her mid-twenties, yet by all accounts she held herself with a dignity to rival Brother Arturo, despite the quieter man’s two decades of experience beyond hers. She was very beautiful, and I found myself unable to linger on her face long before I feel my cheeks redden. She certainly realised this, and laughed, calling me a “cute kid” in that strange American accent of hers.

Brother Arturo simply nodded to her before resting a hand on my shoulder, I took it as meaning we were ready to leave. Michelle explained during the car journey that we were dealing with a ghost which had taken up residence in an elderly man living by himself within a large apartment block. Ghost are the typical fare for potentials like myself, as well as apprentices due to the relatively low danger they pose to us compared to other Hunted, as well as the fact they are generally the ones our words have the greatest level of effectiveness on.

The man’s neighbours had evidently never paid much heed to him, a widower by reputation who did not enjoy the company of others save friends who would visit him a few times a year. The strange groaning and racket which had lately been the hallmark of his abode had drawn our attention, after which we had gently dissuaded other Hunters from interfering. Arturo in the first words I heard him speak, told me that other Hunters consider us fools for our approach and that they believe it is only the Vatican’s influence which “perpetuates” Redeemers as a group. He seemed somewhat bitter, although I do not know why.

We arrived a little after eleven o’clock that night, apparently the owner was a lay-member of the Order like my parents, as he was the one to let us in and explain that there had been no change to the situation. We made out way up to the sixth floor and entered using the key provided to us. Arturo quickly performed some kind of enchantment I did not recognise, although my limited grasp of Latin was enough to understand it as a silencing ward, to prevent neighbouring apartments from being disturbed.

The gentleman himself sat in an armchair which may have rivalled him in age, his eyes were closed, but he bore the distinct expression that he was aware of our pressure. His lips slowly curved and for the first time, I heard a Hunted speak.

“[b]…Redeemers. Why have you come ?[/b]”

Michelle gave me a gentle shove from behind toward the creature. I looked back at her with a sense of panic and a pleading expression. They expected me to deal with the ghost alone ? I cleared my throat and allowed my feet to bridge some of the distance between us, until it’s eyes opened to meet mine, human eyes replaced by a simple ethereal shimmering.

“[b]A boy ?[/b]” It seemed somewhat surprised by my presence. “[b]You are not a Redeemer…Ah, I see.[/b]”

The last statement is laced with comprehension, it’s gaze flickers between my guardians before returning to survey me.

“[b]My name is Sebastien Morrel monsieur, may I ask yours ?[/b]”

My voice shakes a little more than I would like it to.

“[b]My name ? It has been so long…I think…I think it was Luca Rossi.[/b]”

The old man’s hand rises to grip the end of his chin, as though lost in thought. It is an entirely strange gesture to me, as though Signor Rossi is a living breathing man in front of me, as opposed to a spectre possessing someone else.

“[B]Signor Rossi, forgive me, but why are you here ?[/b]”

His concentration broken, Luca returns his attention to me.

“[b]…Why am I here ? Simple young one, I lived here in this building many, many years ago. I had a wife, and children. I watched them grow and leave to have families of their own, I grew old here and watched my wife pass away in front of my eyes before some years later taking my own final breaths. After that, I wished to leave…wished to join my wife in the here-after, but could not. My spirit was bound here for reasons I do not understand, and thus I have continued here for decades, nearly a century, in this form. I finally possessed this poor signor in the hope of drawing attention to my plight.[/b]”

I looked back to see Sister Michelle mutter a quiet prayer as Brother Arturo stare impassively at me. It was a pitiable situation. If a ghost does not realise why it is trapped, it will slowly go mad and become dangerous to all around it, for Rossi to survive an entire century sane was a testament to his will.

“[b]You have no idea why you cannot leave here Signor ?[/b]”

“[b]I…I…[/b]”

The hand which had propped up his chin moved to his eyes, quietly he sobbed as I watched with muted pity. Finally between gasps of breath he manages to speak.

“[b]I killed her…my beloved Caterina…I killed her…She was so sick in the end…So pained…I…I slipped a poison into her food to end it… I could not bear to watch her suffer any more…I held her until the life passed from her body and wept…I killed her…I am beyond redemption…Murderer…[/b]”

Unconsciously I walk forward and rest my hand on the crown of the old man‘s bowed head as he continues to cry, it is a truly pitiable situation, trapped by his own grief, consumed by fear that his love has forever shut the gates of Heaven to him. So human. Now once again I speak without realization, the words tumble forth from some previously unknown corner of my mind. My sensations also change, like waking from a deep slumber.

“[b]Rest now Signor Rossi…Your sins were forgiven long ago, you wife and family await you. Be at peace.[/b]”

He looks up at me with an expression of mixed awe and gratitude, slowly the eyes I have been watching dim, until finally only a pair of tired, unfocused brown eyes remain, just before they close, Luca squeezes my hand and whispers.

“[b]Thank you, and may God be with you always Redeemer.[/b]”[/SIZE][/quote][/SIZE][/INDENT]

[Inuyasha Fandom]

Name: Saio Marquise

Hunter.net name:ImGonnaDie94

Age:22

Hair: A spikey neon blue

Eyes: green

Height: 5'7"

Weight: 160 lbs

Creed: Martyr

Weapons:

Vials of holy water

Zippo brand lighter and pack of smokes

Hand grenades

Desert Eagle twin pistols, and a cartridge of silver 9mm bullets. Otherwise.... anything he can get his hands on can become a leathal weapon.

Edges:

Insinuate: Closes his eyes and sheds a single tear. "I'm sorry."

Becalm: Using a super compresed vial of holy water, he flings it into the ground, and it explodes into a mist. "Doesn't it feel good?"

Demand: After receiving a blow that inflicts great pain, He focuses his pain into weilding it like a weapon. "Let's play."

Payback: All the pain he has ever suffered is sent at an enemy, and he comes at them swinging, or firing, which ever the case may be. "My apologies."

Blaze: Lighting up a ciggarette, He takes a deep breath and exhales a vehement roaring fireball. "Looks like smoking is bad for you."

Burden: He glares through tears at the enemy at hand, usually blindly reaching for anything to bring on the beat down. "You will fall."

(OOC I'll finish this tomorrow)

[Darren]

Unfortunately, Inuyasha Fandom, the auditions for this RPG were closed by the creator over a week ago, and the RPG has already started. Please try to post in auditions threads that are open. Thanks!

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