Sign Up Timebroker

[DeLarge]

[size="2"][font="Lucida Sans Unicode"][center][u][b][size="3"]Timebroker[/size][/b][/u]

[IMG]http://i1114.photobucket.com/albums/k528/PhilBoothman/thegrandtimekeeper.jpg[/IMG]

[i][b]"It is said that in the final days of the human race, everyone on Earth had bad dreams. Nightmares of war and fire and insanity raged through their minds, yet these thoughts faded by morning. Each and every one of them forgot their visions, save for a small number who remembered.

It is these chosen few who will stand united against the darkness and the fire, and yet they continue through their lives, unknowing of their destinies...

Billions of miles away, memories of blood and darkness, of fire and war rushed through the head of a man who was old and young all at the same time. It is this wise man, the wanderer, the exile, who will bring the chosen together and lead the charge into the end of days.

As the players begin to gather, the whole universe trembles with the shared knowledge that the events that will come to pass will bring only one thing...

The end of creation itself."[/b][/i]

---

A flash of fire burst behind the man's eyelids, forcing them to snap open as he awoke from his listless slumber. He breathed heavily for a few moments, blinking his ice-blue eyes a few times to get rid of the fog that had clouded over them. He sank back into the leather armchair he had momentarily fallen asleep in, running his hands through his thick, dark brown hair and sighing deeply. His faded plaid shirt was crumpled, his black jacket placed roughly over his legs, which themselves were clothed in a pair of slim, light-blue jeans and a scuffed pair of brown leather boots.

He lifted his head a few moments later, raised his arm and lifted his shirt-sleeve up, revealing a series of half a dozen wristwatches of various styles and shapes, each one set to a completely different time. His eyes scanned the watch-faces, and suddenly he leapt to his feet.

[b]"Yes! It's finally time!"[/b] he shouted, the excitement of a small child etched cross his face as he scampered around the cluttered room he had fallen asleep in. The room was roughly circular, with a perfectly circular console in the centre, a large clock-face set in the exact centre of the panel. He reached across the mess of wires, buttons and keys that were placed, apparently hap-hazardly around the console, grabbed the hands of the large clock and pulled it round to match the third of his six watches.

Suddenly, machines and devices sprang into life, whirring and clanking before settling into a smooth whirring sound. Lights exploded into existence, and parts of the room began to move smoothly together, as though part of a larger clockwork mechanism.

[b]"There's life in the old girl yet!"[/b] the man shouted, running around the central console, a wide grin across his face. The floor began to vibrate, and he knew that they were on the move. He grabbed hold of a console as the vibrations grew into larger tremors, and the whole room began to shake violently. Sparks flew from consoles, raining down to the ground in bright, elegant showers. The man laughed somewhat maniacally as he raced from panel to panel, hitting buttons and pulling levers until the shaking gradually came to a stop, and he regained steady footing.

[b]"I forgot how temperamental you can be, old girl," [/b]he said with a grin, patting the console. He ran back to his armchair and grabbed his jacket, swinging it on and rushing to the door of the room.

[b]"So where have you taken me this time? Mediata Metraxis? The Flaming Spiral of the Keiller Galaxy?"[/b] he yanked the doors open to reveal a grimy back-alley, piles of garbage resting against dumpsters, a foul smell invading the room. He sighed, his shoulders sagging, and turned back to the room, clearly a little exasperated.

[b]"Earth...again?!"[/b]

---

[i]Time is not linear. It does not stretch out in front of us or back behind us. Instead it is a complex web, consisting of millions, billions of threads stretching out, intertwining and folding back on each other. Time is not perfect, either, and sometimes things go wrong, causing imperfections in the timestream, anomalies which must be repaired, otherwise the web could eventually tear itself apart.

To this end, the Timebrokers emerged. A race of almost ageless humanoid beings with the ability to perceive the Timestream, travel through time and repair these temporal anomalies, the Timebrokers were as gods. They resided within the Grand Timekeeper, a vast device of their own construction from which they were able to monitor the individual timelines of every single being in the universe.

But the Timebrokers were not destined to live forever.

On one dark day a race of terrible, fearsome beings known only as The Tempest emerged from the darkness and waged war on the Timebrokers. The war was long and vicious, taking place throughout time and space, and as it ended both races were destroyed, along with dozens of planets and moons. Entire species were lost in that single instant, and only one survivor emerged.

A young Timebroker calling himself Adam escaped, taking refuge in a single section of the Grand Timekeeper as it broke away from the rest of the device and fell through the Timestream to an unknown point in time. Adam spent many decades looking for other survivors, but to no avail, and eventually resolved to continue the work of the Timebrokers, travelling through time and space and fixing anomalies.

But now a dark force is beginning to stir, one that could be a threat to the whole of time and space, and Adam has been drawn to Earth in order to find a group of individuals who could hold the key to fighting back against the dark forces that threaten them.[/i]

---

Those individuals are you.

Welcome to Timebroker, an epic tale that spans the whole of time and space, and will see you fighting alongside the Last of the Timebrokers against a deadly threat.

But that fight is yet to come, and first we need to introduce ourselves. You will be playing the parts of humans to whom Adam has been drawn, for reasons as yet unknown to him or yourselves. As this is a story heavily based around time-travel, your character can come from any period in human history, from the rise of the Roman Empire to the distant future. You can even play the part of an evolved human from millions of years in the future if it pleases you! I could do with at least one from the present day, though.

You don't need to worry about speaking different and possibly archaic languages, that will be sorted within the RP, as will a number of things including the mythology of this universe.

So here's what I need from you:

[b]Name: [/b]something era-appropriate
[b]Date of Birth/Age: [/b]include both, as we need to know roughly when you were in your personal timeline
[b]Gender:[/b] simple really
[b]Occupation:[/b] again, era-appropriate
[b]Appearance:[/b] picture or detailed description is good, both is great!
[b]Personality:[/b] A good description of what your character is like, the rest of us need to know how to write for them
[b]Writing Snippet:[/b] tell us a little of your life before Adam came into it. This can be anything really, just a short snippet to show that you're a proficient writer.
[b]Extras:[/b] any weapons you plan on bringing with you? Any special skills that could come in handy? Let us know!

I will be taking up to six players, but if I get fewer than six sign-ups then I can manage. However, it will be based on quality, not a first-come, first-served basis. So if I get four excellent sign-ups and two that are not up to standard then we will continue with four players. It may seem harsh but I need dedicated, talented RPers to really make this thing fly!

If you have any questions then please feel free to ask them via PM, if I get overloaded with them then I'll set up a Backstage thread, and I will do so either way once the RP gets going.[/center][/font][/size]

[Dragon Warrior]

Sounds like my kind of story. Hopefully some people sign up, eh?

[b]Name:[/b] Roy Piper
[b]Date of Birth/Age:[/b] August 23, 1938 A.D. - 18 years old.
[b]Gender:[/b] Male
[b]Occupation:[/b] High School Senior, paid under the table as mechanic assistant
[b]Appearance:[/b] Roy is a young Caucasian male with dark brown hair that's usually slicked back with some form of grease or another. He's a decent medium build, but certainly not very intimidating by just his size. He's only around 5'10" and rarely hits the gym to build up any muscle. His clothing is typical of a rough teenager of the fifties, consisting of tight washed out blue jeans, a plain white tee, and his gang's signature black leather jacket. His shoes match the jacket, naturally. In fact, they're fine Italian leather, which he takes great pride in and can often be seen showing them off to the ladies. He has a scar near his wrist on his left arm from a small mistake while fixing a junked out car. His eyes are a dazzling blue and along with his trademark smirk, that duo is usually how he gets any girl to park.
[b]Personality:[/b] Roy belongs to the greaser gang known as The Jackets. He is the self-proclaimed ladies' man of the group, although it's quite questionable considering most of the females flock to the gang leader Leo. Being best friends with Leo, Roy fancies himself second in command and because of this has grown a bit of an ego. This ego can often get him and his gang into rough and rugged situations, particularly with neighboring gangs. You could say he has a reputation for having quite a mouth on him, which often he gets punched in. Leo, despite leading The Jackets, is studious and therefore so are most of the other members, but Roy decides his studies rank low in his priorities. He spends most of his time fixing cars at a local shop, flirting with the girls down at the diner, or catching the latest Kirk Douglas flicks down at the drive-ins. He has a good life and a loving family, but he simply makes the wrong choices. He acts before he thinks, and is usually fairly stubborn and doesn't like getting told what to do. Not even Leo bothers commanding him anymore unless Roy's about to be beaten to a pulp. His cocky, rebellious attitude is surely going to get him into deep trouble someday.

[b]Writing Snippet:[/b] â??Count your lucky stars there, Roy,â? said a young member of the Jackets as he helped up his comrade from the pavement. Once Roy was on his feet it was apparent that this younger fellow was also sufficiently shorter than most. Still, he acted tough for his size. â??If I didnâ??t see you gettinâ?? jumped ovaâ?? here youâ??d be dead meat, eh?â?

â??Thatâ??s enough, Robbie,â? Leo said, pushing past the short loudmouth. The leader brushed Roy off violently like he was an old coat. â??Always gettinâ?? into trouble, eh, Roy?â?

â??Hey, I didnâ??t need you fellas,â? Roy snapped back in his casual cocky attitude. â??I had â??em right where I wanted â??em.â? He wiped the blood from his nose with his jacket sleeve as the gang took in on a group laugh.

â??Get a load of this guy,â? Robbie snickered to the others while jabbing a thumb in Royâ??s direction. â??He thinks heâ??s Rocky Marciano.â?*

â??Thatâ??s right, Robbie Boy, crack one off on me, eh,â? Roy remarked. â??Least I donâ??t get pounded by my ten-year-old brother.â?

Robbieâ??s smirk turned quickly to a grimace as the other boys switched to Royâ??s side. The short Jacket spun his head around to find the negative attention now on him. â??Hey, get bent, Roy Piper! You know Iâ??m sensitive about my height.â?

â??What? You short, Thumbelina? I had no idea.â? The whole gang joined in laughing as Robbie attempted to shout over the commotion and regain some dignity.

â??Cool it, Robbie,â? Leo commanded with authority. â??Roy, come with me.â? He putting an arm around his buddy and led him away from the band of laughing hyenas. â??So you know the Prom is this weekend.â?

â??Yeah, of course. Itâ??ll be a kick. I had plans on takinâ?? Amy.â?

â??Nah, nah, you canâ??t take Amy,â? Leo said, stopping to light a cigarette. Once he blew his first puff and let it settle, he answered Royâ??s silent quizzical expression. â??Sheâ??s going steady with Danny Baxter.â?

â??Dan-Danny Baxter?â? Roy said in both surprise and disgust. â??That odd ball?â?

â??â??Fraid so. But hey, listenâ??all hope isnâ??t lost. I met a couple gals down at Smokeyâ??s yesterday.â?

â??Yeah?â? Roy didnâ??t sound too interested, at least according to his tone. He leaned against a fence and cleaned the dirt off his Italian leather shoes.

â??Word from the bird is theyâ??re fast.â?** Leo winked. Roy looked up from his polish job. â??They want to meet you. Iâ??ll save the brunette for you. I know how you are, Roy.â?

â??You really know how to razz my berries, Leo,â? Roy replied, chuckling almost so that no one could hear. â??But I donâ??t feel like gettinâ?? clutched here. You sure them girls ainâ??t bad news? I donâ??t want no fake outs.*** And sometimes you choose some real lookers. Note the sarcasm. They grody, Leo? Be honest.â?

â??What are you, writing a book? Cool it, Roy. Geez. Jusâ?? wait and see, alright?â? Leo tossed his cigarette to the ground and fiddled with his jacket collar. â??Now câ??mon. Letâ??s cut out before they stop servinâ?? fries at the diner.â? Roy finished up the last bit of dirt on his shoe and followed his friend back to the group of rowdy boys. With his only concern being girls at the moment, he didnâ??t have much worry on his shoulders. That would soon change.


*: Rocky Marciano was an Italian-American boxer and heavyweight champion from 1952 to 1956.
**: To be fast means to be easy.
***: Getting clutched means to get rejected. Fake outs are bad dates.

[b]Extras:[/b] Roy, being a teenager, hasn't really dealt with many weapons. He's shot a gun or two before with his father and he's most likely hit his brother with some blunt object, but his fists are his only offense when it comes to fighting on the streets with his gang. He hasn't really been provoked with any serious danger to call for a weapon. However, he knows cars and mechanics quite well. He's been working with different auto shops since he was eight. He certainly knows his way around an engine.

---------------

I enjoy writing for this character. I can put my random 50's knowledge to good use now. :] Edited December 27, 2010 by Dragon Warrior

[DeLarge]

[size="2"][font="Lucida Sans Unicode"]As I now have one sign-up, this is a (slightly) more comprehensive overview of my character.

[b]Name:[/b] Adam (no last name known)
[b]Date of Birth/Age:[/b] Unknown - thought to be over eight hundred years old
[b]Gender:[/b] Male
[b]Occupation:[/b] Timebroker - essentially a Temporal Caretaker
[b]Appearance:[/b] (see original post)

[b]Personality:[/b] Adam is definitely an eccentric. Having been on his own for a long time, perhaps a hundred years or so (there was a lost decade somewhere along the line, so he can never quite tell exactly), he has taken to talking to himself. A lot.

He is usually jovial and friendly, almost to the point where his enthusiasm becomes overwhelming, but this intense joy he seems able to find in all things masks a deep sadness, a dark weight on his very soul. This could simply be survivor guilt due to his status as lone survivor of the War, or it could be something much darker. It is because of this that in moments of stress he tends to drop his fun-loving exterior completely and become extremely serious.

Similarly, since fighting in the War, he has become a complete pacifist - he despises conflict of all kinds, and will always do everything he possibly can in order to avoid violence. Thus, his greatest skill is the ability to talk himself out of almost any situation. Although occasionally he just talks himself into even more trouble than before.
In short, he's...complicated.

[b]Extras: [/b]Adam has a leather wriststrap which he wears at all time on his left wrist, which holds a small personal computer underneath a flap. He can use this for thousands of different functions, including scanning objects and people for information and history, location scanning and a number of others. On his right wrist he wears six small individual wristwatches, each set to a different time, some moving at different speeds or in different directions, and only he knows the purpose of these timepieces, although it probably has something to do with the six humans he has begun to travel with.

He is also the only person left in existence who is able to use the portion of the Grand Timekeeper which is in his possession, allowing him to travel anywhere in all of time and space.

---

Hopefully this will shed some light on the mysterious figure of Adam, but also leave some questions about the nature of who he is...[/font][/size]

[Akieen Cloud]

[font="Comic Sans MS"][color="#000080"]sounds interesting, I'm game.

Name: Beryl Ophiena

Date of Birth/Age: January 8, 1988. 23 years of age.

Gender: Female

Occupation: Chef, Nutritional adviser

Appearance: Normally seen in dark blue jeans and a dark colored tank top, she wears a black leather jacket during the winter; thick combat boots grace her feet year round. Her attire never really changes unless she is working and during that time she is in the traditional plaid chef's pants and white shirt, her hair tucked under the toge that rests on top of her head. During off hours however she is dressed in her casual wear of jeans and tank tops, her hair loose and hanging to her hips, the dark brown color of it sometimes looking black, the shades that rest on top of her head keeping her bangs out of her reddish brown eyes. The only thing that doesn't change be she at work or otherwise is the ever present cigarette between her lips, whether it's lit depends on if she's cooking or not. (see attachment)

Personality: Laid back and open minded she tries not to jump to conclusions and waits to make a judgment call until she's heard both sides of a story. She enjoys having a good time but knows when to slow it down and take it easy, she has a tendency of being immature and flying off the handle when it comes to her cooking, which is unbecoming for her age, but she makes up for it when the time comes to be serious. Sarcastic she'll never miss an opportunity for a remark or inside joke; she's been told that she easily gets on people's nerves but no one seems to have the heart to tell her to beat it which she is thankful for. Hates feeling alone she would rather be in a crowd of people she doesn't know than be alone at home in the deathly quiet.

Writing Snippet:
Beryl stalked through the kitchen in the back of the building, her eyes seeming to glow from her anger as she flung a plate into the metallic sink with a loud clatter; the man to her right blinking in confusion.
"Everything alright Ophiena?"
"No dammit! That stupid SOB said that his dinner was 'over cooked' yet the prude ate everything on the plate and demands I make it again. Screw this, I'm going out back!"
With out waiting for an affirmative she threw the toge onto her station counter and stomped out the back doors, the chilly night air hitting her skin making it break out in goose bumps as she fished out her lighter and lit the end of the cigarette hanging from her lips. Inhaling deeply she sighed as she exhaled, the nicotine making her fingertips go numb momentarily and her skin tingle with the sensation of the drug filtering through her system. Even with her job of being a nutritionist she still had her own little glitches. Every person had them, and her boss; who just flung open the back door searching for her, seemed to have a glitch with her.
"Ophiena! What in sam hell are you doing out here? It's not your break yet!"
"I'm taking it early. Bite me."
"This is a good way to loose your job you know that?!"
"You won't fire me. You need me to much. I practically run this place. You loos me, you loose your place and you know it."
The man in question felt his cheeks burn in shame, she had him pinned, it was true. The woman was the best cook within a five mile radius and she balanced the meals nutritionally as well, what more could he ask for? Sighing he looked at his watch and pinched the bridge of his nose.
"Fine, whatever. Just don't be out here all night you got that? You still have to pull your weight around here."
"Yeah yeah yeah. I got it. I'll be in as soon as I finish this."
Shaking his head the man headed back into the building and left Beryl to her thoughts; looking up at the night sky she sighed exhaling another pale plume of smoke that rose into the air only to be swept away by the breeze. The starts glittered over head and as she threw the burnt out cigarette down into the frozen alley and stuck another in her mouth to chew on while working she glanced up at the glittering gems one last time wondering how much different it must be to look down on the earth from that vantage point. Shrugging and leaving the odd thought outside in the cold with the stars she trudged back through the doors and to her job ready to finish up for the night and hit the bar for a cold beer before going home to the empty apartment

Extras: Even though she is a cook her father was a Marine and made sure to put her in self defense classes which opened the door way to her second love of hand to hand fighting and kick boxing. Though she is not the best she is by far not the worst. She is also none to horrible at throwing a knife although she has been known to be off target a few times it doesn't keep her from stashing on in her right boot every time she leaves her apartment.
[/color][/font]

Hope this is okay, if anything needs fixed let me know please.