[28 Feb 2006|04:08am] Once upon a time, there was a toy maker named Gepetto. He was a kind man, so far as any one knew. Brilliant when in his work, his toys were also highly prized.. His greatest toys, it was said, were intelligent. They were capable of playing back, of thinking, of even loving their owners. Whenever he was asked how such toys were made, Gepetto would just smile, a twinkle in his eyes, and say "That, my dears, is a trade secret." The truth of the matter is that to make a toy that can play back requires infusions of disproportionate amounts of life essence. Since the kind of essence is usually not important so much as the quantity, he?d often disposed of animals that were already considered to be vermin in the process of creating such toys. This only contributed to the country?s good reputation, even if the source were not known. One day, the King and Queen decided they would commission their very special toy maker for a very special project. A toy for their daughter. That?s what they wanted . . . She had been getting tormented by the other children, and she knew not why . . . She really WAS better than them, why couldn?t they see that? So, they finally agreed. A toy that would love her regardless. A toy that could also protect her at all times. A toy that could love her and protect her, and be everything to her that the King and Queen just didn?t have the time to be, Gepetto easily accepted, but said he would need unlimited access, and it would take some time. Both were granted to him. Now, what they wanted, a toy so large, a toy so smart, a toy that could fight and make independent decisions, this would all be so very difficult. He would need a number of preliminary test before the final product would be ready. Since he was exploring new ground, he decided to document his process completely. The first thing he learned was that it would also take a lot more life essence than anything he?d previously created. No matter how many dogs and cats and rats he fed into the toys, they just didn?t have the strength to come even CLOSE to being what he needed. Finally, he decided to try children. Now, understand that before this point, because animals could not verbalize the kind of ordeal the Process was on them, he had assumed that it was painless. Certainly, they never cried. They never made a sound. Perhaps it was because they just . . . Didn?t know what sound to make. The children, however, were QUITE verbose. Crying for their mommies and daddies as he drained their lives into the toys. Some of the smarter ones could describe in great detail how much it hurt, HOW it hurt. To Gepetto, it was a learning experience, and nothing more. He became so obsessed with making this perfect toy, that nothing else mattered. It turned out that 10 children were needed to come up with something even remotely close to correct. It was still a long ways away, but with 10 children, his first successes were created. The projects that Amber would remember being tormented and tortured later on. These were stress tests. After all, what good is a bodyguard that breaks in 10 minutes, right? Time was running short when he FINALLY created unit number 97313xz. It took 500 souls to do it. That wasn?t including the number of souls poured into the units that preceded her. But she was almost perfect. When she awoke, she started to have a conversation with him right off the bat. "Hi! Who are you?" "I am your creator . . . Gepetto." "Does that make you my daddy?" "Well . . . Yes. Technically, I suppose it would." "Yay! I love you, Daddy!" *She hugged the man, who smiled at her* "Excellent. Attractive . . . But not so cute as to make the princess jealous. Sociable and friendly, good. We?ll start running endurance tests on you tomorrow. In the meantime, we really should get you to sleep now." "Alright, Daddy. But . . . What?s my name?" "Well. Until your owner gives you one . . . If your owner gives you one, I mean, you are 97313xz." The child made a face at him. "Silly Daddy! That?s not a name! I wanna be called . . . Umm. Amber! Call me Amber from now on, okay?" Gepetto smiled at her indulgently. "We?ll see. I?ll suggest it to her, and if she likes it, that will be your name. Now, it?s time for you to go to sleep, alright?" "Alright . . ." The next few days were hard for Amber. He ran her through every kind of torture imaginable, and still she insisted that she loved him. She healed back from everything he did to her, after all. He gave her little, if any, kindness, insisting that the princess would be the one to make her happy. It was on the seventh day, combat testing, when Gepetto decided that she was a failure. Combat testing involved pitting whatever surviving failures he had sitting around against the new unit. Many of them were excellent combat machines . . . Not so good in the love department, and it seemed that amber overcompensated for this. Though she won all of her fights easily, she rfused to kill . . . To cripple . . . Or even to maim her opponents. She had a disturbing value for life that would prevent her from doing her job. With a sigh, he began working out the next unit in his head as he escorted her to her sealed room. Amber was far cleverer than Gepetto realized, however, and she?d figured out how to escape her cell. It was that night when she found and started to watch the video records. That her life was bought at the expense of the lives of others. She did what anyone would have done in her position . . . She ran away. Carrying the records with her, she went to the castle, to meet the girl who would be her owner. In the process, she met the King and the Queen, presenting them with Gepetto?s records. It was quite the damning volume of evidence to say the least, and they decided to arrest the toy maker. It was the final mistake, BECAUSE Amber failed to destroy her opponents, Gepetto had a collection of war machines to unleash on the country . . . One that decimated all. When he gathered the truth from the dying King, he vowed vengeance against the escaped 97313xz . . . post comment

Alchemy Revisted. [18 Sep 2005|09:24am] [ music | Joan Jett- I Hate Myself for Loving You ] Not every damned soul goes to hell. Not every damned soul SHOULD go to Hell. For some few, some rare, some extrem cases, Hell would not be the eternal torment and suffering they deserve. Indeed, it would be a form of affirmation to them. The constant agonies inflicted upon them would not bring them suffering, but rather satisfation. Nicki is one such soul. Get him around others, and it only serves to bring out his worst, while enabling him to feed off of their negativity. So, what became of Nicki? He was forced into a cold, dark, unfathomnable corner of the astral plane. He was granted no visitors nor any stimuli of any kind. So, he turned inward. With no one else to torment him, with no one else to torment, he beat himself bloodied, blackened, blued, and broken. when he could beat himself no longer, he insulted and belittled himself for the things he'd done in his life. I think it would be safe to say that Nicki's main problem is that he suffers from self-defeatism. Often confused with masochism, this particular mental abberation causes the sufferer to be certain that nothing he or she does will turn out right. Thus, they subconsciously try to sabotage themselves to accelrate the failure. In time, he would overcome this lack, of course. he would learn to watch the living. He could watch any living he wanted. And we know which living Nicki wished to watch, don't we? That's right, his widow. After all, with him out of the picture, she was sure to be living a beatuiful and happy life, right? She certainly didn't when he was around, and really, didn't she deserve one? So, when his beloved wife (and yes, Nicki really DID love Kim in his own twisted fashion) turned out to be following his own self destructive path . . . well. Nicolas has plenty to reproach himself for, for the next few dacades. ((This was kind of meant as just a bit of closure. I'm not sure if you'd want to build on it or not, or if you even have a character who can reach him. He's locked FAR away to keep him from ever returning to life. Still, if you want to turn it into sopmething, by all means . . .)) post comment

En-Gaal [04 Sep 2005|08:38am] It's easy to dismiss En-Gaal. Everyone does, after all. Oh, they don't THINK that they do. They respect his power, they fear his wrath. But they don't REALLY respect HIM. They think him some stupid, oafish brute. They think him only capable of killing and nothing more, that nothing else pleases him. Few things they think about him are true. And Ares tells himself that it's just how he likes things . . . being underestimated. But it's not true. En-Gaal is an extremely quiet god in social settings, usually only uttering one or two sentences at a time. It is this avoidance of conversation that has lead to the rumours of him being mentally deficient. Untrue rumours, of course . . . En-Gaal is CONSTANTLY thinking. Those few beings who DO really know him tell him that he thinks too much. Indeed, he is vastly intelligent. Is just either unwilling or unable to let this show in his dealings with (most) others. In truth, En-Gaal is a very lonely being deprived of certain critical emotional development. These are the source of the rumours of him being a blood thirsty bastard. The truth is that any emotion that ISN'T connected with combat confuses him. Although he very much DESIRES love, happiness, compassion, and other similar things, a (very repressed) inferiority complex prevents him from ever attaining them. So as a general rule, he takes those emotions and stuffs them somewhere deep inside himself and tries to pretend they don't exist. This isn't ALWAYS successful, and a desire to nurture the gentler emotions will occasionally be felt. Such developments are invariably a fiasco, as though the intent is genuine, he has no clue of how to act on these desires or display these emotions. The idea that he enjoys killing, combat, carnage etc. isn't entirely accurate, either. Indeed, he strives to avoid them at all times, but with the lack of emotional stability and a mind that always . . . ALWAYS runs 90 light years a second, the only time Ares mind feels any kind of peace and clarity is when he is engaged in violence, be it physical or verbal. One of his fondest desires is his own death, but was created to be incapable of committing suicide. This is another reason why he spends a lot of time fighting. It's his attempt to find someone good enough at fighting to finally lay him to rest. Unfortunately, if he were to fight at one iota lower than his best in any situation, that too would be considered suicide. And there are none in any known world who are better at fighting than Ares. It is SAID that his "sister" Kimara is one of those few. But she's also one of those few he gets along with, and to a fashion, loves (but sister/brother love is hardly the same thing) and therefore, fighting her is not likely. post comment

Alchemy [08 Nov 2004|06:12am] 1 : a medieval chemical science and speculative philosophy aiming to achieve the transmutation of the base metals into gold, the discovery of a universal cure for disease, and the discovery of a means of indefinitely prolonging life 2 : a power or process of transforming something common into something special 3 : an inexplicable or mysterious transmuting Dark souls contain something within them that can be neither defined nor measured. Some of the worst are imbued with some horrific force that keeps them from ever truly fading away. Nicolas de Lenfent is one such soul. Preparations were not easy. After all, the vampire not only didn't have his own body, he also hadn't the talents that many other spectral entities had. No possessing power, such as the Christian demons did, no telekinetics as a poltergeist did. He couldn't even manifest himself as something visible. However, he could whisper. He could speak, and being able to speak, he could deceive. Oh, what a great deceiver he had to become in that brief time between Kim's cleansing and her merging. He'd have to work fast to gather the ingredients. Securing the place . . . that was simple enough. This Kimara fell into line just as quickly as any other. Nicki had to admit . . . there was something lovely about watching that woman suffer. That was why he was going to all of this effort, after all. To make Kimara his plaything once more. The first ingredient . . . that was the most difficult to attain. The freely given blood of something pure. This was difficult in three stages. For it was a Herculean task to find something truly pure. As a spectre, he could move great distances as they were nothing. But he had to coax things to where they could give up their elements to his cause. Nesting behind the ear of a unicorn, Nicolas began to whisper terrible desires into its ear. Horrid , wicked things. To drive such a creature of good into hysterics was little effort. By the time it had stopped running, it was over the patch of unhallowed ground where Kim's father lay buried. Still, Nicki had to work. With a great . . . GREAT force of effort, he could make the steed's flank itch uncontrollably. An agonizing , suffering red itch. Desperate to alleviate this, the horse began to rub it's body against one of the sharp trees nearby. Once it began to scratch, however, the itch only seemed to get worse. If it took doing so, Nicki was ready to cripple the steed in order to get its blood. In fact, as the skin was finally, literally shorn off, the was exactly what happened. Nicki watched for a few moments while the unicorn's blood soaked into the earth. The first ingredient was attained. Now would come the second. The venom of a beast of vile darkness. This would be as difficult to find as it was to find purest good. After all, both are just as rare, contrary to popular opinion. Still, the worlds are filled with creatures great and terrible. Eventually, he located a wyvern, half blind, and completely starved. A dangerous beast, and one that would certainly wish a great chance to slaughter a unicorn, would it not? It took the spectre several hours of speaking calmly . . and sometimes not so calmly . . . to the wyvern without it suddenly spinning to try and attack his etherealness. But finally, at long last, he lured the creature to the grave site. It was as it had the almost-helpless unicorn in the sights of the sting that Nicki provided the much needed distraction again. The sting was not true, striking the ground where the blood had spilled. The combination of unicorn blood and venom in the natural setting was enough to form a catatonic gas that sent both unicorn and wyvern into coma like trances. It also strengthened Nicki, who now found himself capable of true telekinesis. Now came the time for the most important part. Waiting. Waiting for the ripples of mystic energy that would be coming when Reve, Rubia, Lucifer, etc. attempted the spell. When the ripples hit, with each of the first two, he would need to make a sacrifice. And on e third, he could descend into the stewing Earth to wait. Truly, as the mystic energies poured forth from Lusis and into the worlds at large, Nicki caught the first, and settled into the heart of the wyvern, constricting, blocking, squeezing until . . . the wyvern's hear beat no more. The second pulse, which came an hour later, caused a similar attack upon the unicorn. However, in this, he chose to rupture the arterial walls in the jugular vein. Internal bleeding completed the task. Then with the third pulse, Nicki descended into the tainted ground. Churning, smoldering, and yet freezing in direct proportion to the burning flame that was Kimara. Her father's body . . . no longer the shreds it once was, but still not Nicolas. Each subsequent pulse would purify the body more to the childe of Lestat. Complete and utter genetic and physical alteration was attained. And as the merging process was finally complete . . . as En-Gannim's soul was combined with Kim's permanently, the once-deceased Nicolas de Lenfent tore up from the Earth, and began to look around, and to laugh quietly to himself. The forces of the spell had even seen fit to provide him with a violin . . . post comment

You better check yo'self before you wreck yo'self. [04 Nov 2004|07:17am] The setting: South Bronx. The date: The Mid 90s. Mick Sage . . . known to his friends as C.K. was meeting with some good "friends" in a condemned brwonstone. In his hand was a rager large Adidas bag. In a holster under his left arm, was a Desert Eagle. His eyes were narrowed in the darkness, as the men, some Bolivians in very nice suits, presented their product. A briefcase full of the highest quality coke money could buy. Which was precisely what CK had in mind to do. Just outsdide the door, with a small transceiver in his ear, Micks constant companion, Ice Pick, was keeping an eye on the street. Particularly for suspicious looking delivery vehicles. Damned feds thought they were so clever with their sting operations, but Mick was ready. If the Bolivians had double crossed him, he'd shoot them where they stood. If they didn't, then Jack, who'd set up shop on the stairwell, would be only too happy to finish the boss's work off. Of course, in a situation like this, everyone . . . and I mean EVERYONE is tense. As Mick and the middle Bolivian walked towards each other, the buzzing of flies seemed to die down* post comment

Ganon [18 Mar 2004|04:57am] Ganon started off as a king of thieves, when he managed to find out and escape to the golden land, he was imbued with the power of the triforce of power, (there are three triforces, Power, Wisdom and Courage, Courage belongs to Link, Wisdom is Zelda's) because of this he turned the golden land into a land of monsters and earned the power over the golden land hence making him a very sinister sorcerer as well as an expert swordsman post comment

Gojira bio [18 Mar 2004|04:44am] Origin: On Lagos Island a godzillasaurus was awakened by naval bombardment during WWII. After being seriously injured by American troops, Godzilla was left to die only to be mutated into a huge fire-breathing monster 10 years later by radiation from atomic tests in the Pacific. In the 1991 movie Godzilla vs. King Ghidora, this origin is modified so the wounded godzillasaurus is teleported to the Bering Sea. However, a nuclear accident occurs there in present day creating a larger, more powerful Godzilla post comment

Mick Sage's Bio [18 Mar 2004|03:36am] Mick and his older twin grew up in New York's Inner City. Though they had friends IN gangs, they'd managed to avoid getting involved in them, personally. Both worked hard at everything they did . . . school, sports, music . . . and that left little time for illegal activities. That was three years ago. That was when Jack was gunned down by a police officer. He'd been coming home from a date. The cop . . . well, there wasn't any real reasons for it. Just a senseless example of why some people don't deserve the badge. The worst partt was the way the pigs worked to cover it up. Mick was left a changed boy. He still worked hard at his schooling. But he seemed to find the time for the Bloods that he'd tended to avoid beforehand. When he was beat into the gang, the pain didn't bother him much at all. He was already thinking of how he could use the gang to get his revenge Mick worked as hard to prove himself as a Blood as he worked at anything else. His brains were an asset . . . fluent in Japanese, French, Spanish. Among other abilites All of which paid to raise him to first lieutenant in New York City Most people who know him call him by the nickname Cop Killah. Give you 3 guesses why? Disclaimer: This character is not meant to come off as stereotypical nor racist in any way. If it is perceived as such, apologies. Also, Mick engages in activities and uses language that are in NO way endorsed by myself. These are merely done to add realism to the character. 2 comments|post comment

Vito Corleone in WoD [18 Mar 2004|02:06am] There's so much that could be said here. None of it you need to know. What YOU need to know is that Don Corleone runs a very powerful organization. Populated with a variety of beings from the World of Darkness, they all ignore their typical loyalties and dedicate themselves to the family. Corleone vampires work well with Corleone werewolves.(Both groups being comprised of many different clans/tribes. All feeling greater kinship with the Family than their new "races") This is as much a testament to the Don's leadership as it is to the strength of their Family bonds. No small feat, as Vito, himself, is a "mere" mortal. Although he has been offered the Embrace by many would-be sires . . . even from within the Family . . . (not to mention the number oftimes outsiders have attempted to FORCE it upon him) it has all been to no avail. He believes that although he may, one day, join the ranks of the undead, for the moment it would cloud his judgement and make him less effective in his duties. post comment

Kiyo's X-wing's attributes. [18 Mar 2004|01:51am] Power System: Novaldex O4-Z cryogenic power cells and ionization reactor Propulsion System: Four Incom 4j.4 fusial thrust engines (300KTU) Shields/Armor: Forward/Rear Projecting Chempat Shields (50 SBD); Titanium Alloy hull post comment

first test [28 Jan 2004|04:59am] *Dragon did nothing halfway. Some people might call him bipolar. Or manic depressive, perhaps? Either he committed himself to something completely, or he ignored it entirely. And although he was subject to mood swings, he rarely changed his mind.* *From the first day of the first year, he had decided he liked being at Hogwarts. It made "sense" to him . . . even when it didn't. A sense that his parents never could. And yet . . . why was this? He grew up normally, born to the most normal of parents. Why, then, did he feel that he was something else? The letter from Hogwarts seemed to explain it all, of course. A wizard. Well, that WAS, he admitted, a bit odd. But maybe that was exactly why he felt like an alien around his parents. When he learned he wasn't the only one born of normal humans (at least, as far as HE knew . . ), it al seemed to add up.* *Still, even after the revalation, something . . . sometimes . . ; gnawed at the back of his mind. As it was doing now. He was sitting down in the fsnow, in the middle of the day, enjoying the last free day he would have before classes resumed.* *He ignored the odd looks other studnets gave him. The cold diidn't bother him so terribly much. Hell, he barely even noticed it. If it meant that he was left to his own devices while he enjoyed it, so much the better.* *It gave hum more time to ponder somethings about his home and his parents. Things that didn't seem right. Even beyond the muggle/wizard level. Their hair was such a bright and flaring red, both of them. Yet his own was black as coal. He didn't really know genetics, but SOMETHING seemed off. And yet the facts, although dangling in front of his face, seemed to be elduiong him completely* Mnnnn . . . . I should try to think of this on an empty stomach. I wonder how long it is until lunch. *He cast his eyes up towards the steel grey sky and sighed a bit* post comment

Under Construction [28 Jan 2004|03:56am] ***************************************** TALES FROM THE DAILY PROPHET CHARACTER SHEET ***************************************** Experience Points: ***************************************** Player Information ***************************************** Player Name: Grendel MUN Handle: Grendel-Tech Player Email: deadwing@hotmail.com Player IM Information: AIM: Grendel Aggresor ***************************************** Character Information ***************************************** Character Name: Dragon Tears Character Avatar (Please include URL of at least on picture): http://members.tripod.co.jp/grendelrose/mini/tears.jpg (adult) http://members.tripod.co.jp/grendelrose/mini/amano.jpg (child/teen) Wizard, Witch or Other?: Wizard Character Home Page(if any): none Character's Familiar: none Wand Info(optional): Main Trait (4d6): Strong His mother's side shows in him in ways that are both good (in this case) and bad. Anything he does, he manages to put a surprising amount of force behind. This is a bit of a double edged sword, as he doesn't seem to realize his own power. Side Trait #1 (3d6): Beautiful He possesses a certain primal charm to him. He commonly uses this to make friends and/or to influence people *Translated, if he doesn't like someone, he IS prone to intimidating them* Side Trait #2 (3d6): Sharp senses He's been gifted with a sharp senses of smell, hearing and sight. His sense of touch is nowhere near so fine (and possibly the root of the oblivion he has to his power). Disadvantage/Flaw: Barbaric Although not a STUPID person, Dragon also lacks the subtle approach that most humans understand and make use of. List Learned Traits (if any): Basic Magic : 4d6 Intermediate Magic: 2d6 Intimidation: 2d6 Parseltongue 1d6 Character Bio: House: Gryffindor. Parents: Ann and Todd Tears (muggles, adoptive) Occupation: Hogwart's student (third year) Personal History: Many years ago, there was a mighty dragon. She was a cruel and evil wyrm who had forced the local towns to worship her as a goddess. As one of her self-granted rights, she demanded frequent living sacrifices. She often preferred male humans, generally she would transform herself into a human and mate with her prey before devouring them (sometimes for weeks at a time.) No matter how long her time with the victim, she would always mourn him, weeping for weeks on end, until she grew weary of it, and demanded a fresh sacrifice. The tears of her centuries of mourning gathered to form a rather large sea: the Sea of Tears. Although she mated with her prey, she never conceived a child. At least, not until the last, when an egg was laid. However, long before the egg had a chance to hatch, a group of intrepid adventurers tracked down the Weeping Dragon and slew her. Electing to "adopt" the egg, with hopes of training the hatchling as an ally, the adventurers took the (surprisingly small) egg with them. They were shocked when a male human infant was "born". A human family was found to adopt the child, he being given the somewhat simplistic name of Dragon Tears. He has grown to an adult never knowing his true heritage, as his foster parents were never told he was hatched from the egg off a dragon. He has just begun to realize that he is a bit more than human. post comment

[20 Jul 2003|03:02am] You? You weren't justice. The man with your purse was justice. You were one of the few that made what I do worth trying. Managing to save a person, not avenge a statistic. I honestly hope that I'd never have to be justice for you. In answer to the idea of Karma . . . well, I don't know. *Matt was a Catholic. Born, raised, confirmed, and dedicated. He often confessed the sins he felt he committed in the process of the vigilante. Of the avenger.* I wish I knew that there was a way of making everything balance out in the end. But I don't. Otherwise, I wouldn't be doing this. *After they got the purse, Matt hovered close to the thug for a few moments, and whispered into his ear* I'm not Spiderman. I('m not going to gift wrap you for the police. But just bear in mind. I know who you are now. And I'll be watching you. *He then went back to Karma's side and lifted her back into the sky way* You'll have to guide me to your home from here. *And guide him she did. He waited outside, watching over her; the job of the hero. And more to the point, to watch over her until Professor X's friend contacted him. That was when he heard the scream. And he dashed into the apartment. And he could smell the death in it. He made his way to Karma, slowly. Taking time to measure distances; to catalogue scents. Every detail was processed in his mind* Who did this? And who is that was . . . *He stopped himself. Perhaps the fact that he didn't refer to a gender for the victim was a hint to his actual blindness* post comment

Dilikzar Rtham's introduction to Shadowrun Earth [07 Jun 2003|03:09pm] *Dilik was stumbling around the surface world. The eyes that had been seared out were now replaced. Much like the other cyberdrow, they were UV-resistant. It gave him the ability to endure light that no other drow could. His eyes, however, were NOT the top-of-the-line trid qulity ones that Circuitbreaker used. No. They were JUST good enough to get him by. Same for the ear that had to be replaced. It to was burned. Scarred.* *Mechanical arms replaced the ones that the trolls had ripped off. And the doc, who was feeling playfully experimental, had layered his unconscious patient with muscle replacements and dermal plating.* *And with each and every piece of cyberware, a bit of the one-time fighter-mage's essence . . . a bit of his magic. . . slipped away. Leaving him with littler of the former and NONE of the latter. Ohhh, he was not happy when he awoke in the alley* post comment

Just a clarification. [07 Jun 2003|10:31am] Those of you who read this notice I mainly use this journal to store my character sheets and save RPs into. If you happen to see an RP that appears unfinished, and feel inspired to reply to it, then you're more than welcome to do so, and I'll continue things along. Sort of a public version of "play by email" post comment

Circuitbreaker [06 Jun 2003|12:34pm] *The elf who would come to be called Circuitbreaker was somewhat of a disgrace to the drow. At least early in his life, he was. Incapable of the same . . . even most basic of magic that every other drow was proud to call his or her birthright, Slk'rat was often picked oin . . . even beaten for his inability.* *There is always an equalizer. Where the drow, as all other races, had slowly integrated technology into their daily lives, most didn't see the FULL value it had. A race known for its treachery and cunning, they were too hidebound to consider making computers do things that computers weren't supposed to do.* *Slk'rat possessed no such limitations. He also disregarded theeir rules against cybernetics. he HAD no magic ability. What did he stand to lose from replacing his eyes? Wiring his skills? Replacing his arm? Nothing. He went so far as to implant a headjack. Ohh, yes. Though most of his 'ware looked life-like, his bretheren KNEW he was different. They had an idea of why, too. But they didn't yet understand that Slk'rat could bypass their secure locks, their protected files. Everything they thought was safe within their computers,, Circuitbreaker could find. And use against them.* *A dedicated follower of Lloth, he considered his talents with the computer to be her way of ompensating his lack of magic to him. As such,he wrote all of his all of his programs to mimic the spells of powerful drow mages and prietesses and began referring to himself as a technomancer. Nuyen being the world's universal money, and money being power, he decided to make his way to the surface to hire his skills out as a Shadowrunner. Something many a drow aspired to, but Slk'rat he had a huge advantage over his bretheren. Most drow couldn't abide the light of day. Circuit? His cybereyes were UV reinforced. Fuck them and their chickenshit laws against cybernetics.* *Well, actually, once they saw how well mechanics could be APPLIED, the dark elves started to ease the restrictions. Most still won't suffer such invasions, for the sheer fact of it being disruptive to their magic, but a few had begun to incorporate slight enhancements, finding the benefits greater than the detriments* post comment

Dicepool [27 May 2003|10:42pm] Name: Mike Wilson AKA Dicepool Age: 15 Powers: Healing Factor: Mike possesses the impressive regenerative powers of his father. Which is . . . rather odd, since Deadpool's powers were artificially imbued. It is important to note that Dice does NOT have the same degree of regeneration that his father had (at least, not when 'Pool had it at full strength). However, he can recover from amazing amounts of what would be fatal damage. Natural Combat Skills: Although arguably not a power, Mike does seem to have a natural aptitude in close quarters as well as vehicular battle. There are limits: He has no ability to command troops IN battle. Serendipity: Better known as a "luck aura," this, coupled with Mike's propensity for gambling is the source of his monicker. In almost any situation regarding random chances, things will go in Dice's favor. Obviously, there are limits to anyone's luck, and this power has a habit of failing Dice if he chances to push it too far for his own gains. Weaknesses: Hyperactive to a fault, Mike has his father's irresponsible (possibly suicidal?) outlook on life. He also has an extreme weakness for gambling. He can also be a bit naive, as he's refused to develop his father and mother's "cynical view on life" Skills: Mike is knowledgable in many forms of gaming and/or gambling. He's also a talented martial artist and a bit of a comedian. Bio/Background: Even the most bitter of exes can occasionally share a night of passion at the worst of times. So it happened with Deadpool and Copycat. Once they realized what happened, they committed themselves to raising the child as best as they could. Which, unfortunately, seems to be involving daily fights, as Wade and Vanessa can't seem to get along any better now, than they ever did. He actually celebrated when they realized he was a mutant, because the Institute seemed like a much better game plan than the Battlefield. post comment

RIKIMARU [20 May 2003|03:19pm] A male ninja with a prodigious patience. He does his duty using his body as a weapon that he has built up since his childhood. The power and the celerity he has were by sheer dint of training. At the age of 16 he was given the fine sword "jurokuya" by his teacher Shiunsai Azuma and entered the Gohdas family of his lord for generations. He has done many exploits till today and finally became the head of Azumashinobu school of ninja art when Shiunsai was retired. He accomplishes all the given orders accurately. His character is totally different from that of Ayame. He is serious and a hard worker as the head should be. He keeps the laws of ninjas strictly. But sometimes he shows the emotion that he suppresses as a ninja when he faces his company's death for example. However he is not so emotional as Ayame as a whole. post comment

*Saved Post of Bethany's* [19 May 2003|11:50pm] [ mood | artistic ] *posts this soloish thingie out of character for tommy to read while she'll respond back to his post as Kiyo* Time ceased to exist as the muscles in her leg fell asleep, her body crouched on the tiled roof of the Gohda Castle, her mind, sharp, alert, her eyes..watching everything, peircing through the hazy darkness below, near the river, noting the movement of a cat here, the twitch of a guard there. Ayame's hair moved a bit, with the change of the wind from the east, to the noth of the castle, as the goose flesh rose along her bare arms. Here and there she would spot a raindrop, watching the pattern they made on the river below, before her mind would force her to go back to work. The Azuma ninja, what she was, what her life had been, trained since birth to work for her Lord, along with her only friend, only companion, and only soul, Rikimaru. She had lost him, for over a year...what had happened? Ayame shifted a bit on the roof top, and began to think on this, in the back of her mind, where her thoughts where seperated from the processing of information. Half of her soul has been brutally ripped away from her, and then given back, as suddenly as it had been taken away. A gentle suction on her bottom lip, pulling it into her mouth, gave her something to obsess over for a moment, while she though, her teeth gently kneeding the soft flesh there. How..how had he survived a year, alone, trapped, and then suddenly, return in the exact moment she had needed him, when Onikage had returned, and Meji was somewhere floating about as well. Onikage had attacked the castle, and Ayame had forged through alone, silently praying for Rikimaru's spirit to help her hands and aim be true, until she had finally hunted down Onikage. And then, something extrodinary, she was saved from her death, in the last moment possible, by the outstreched hand of her solitary friend. His touch, once more, after over a year of missing him, of silently crying in the night for his passing, of leaving a clan she had no buisness doing....he had returned. The thought of loosing him again made her eyes water a bit, and then Ayame supressed any emotion she was letting show. Now was not the time for emotion, for feeling, now was the time for work. Rikimaru had told her how proud of her he was, for being so diligent in her missions and her watches while he was gone. But there was one thing that still bothered her. How cold..how distant he had been. But again, Ayame closed her eyes for a moment, and squashed any residual emotion, and then nodded as Saizuke came into view on the roof top. Her watch was over, now...she would bathe, eat. and then sleep till dawn, and her training for the day, before night would fall again... post comment

Syntax's vision. [05 Apr 2003|04:23am] *In the beginning, there was Gaia. And she was the world. She created three spirits of great power. The Wyld, The Weaver, and the Wyrm.* *The Wyld was the spirit of chaos and change. The force of the Weaver was in direct counterbalance to the Wyld . . . the force of order, creation . . . almost to the point of fanatacism.* *Between the two, the force to keep both sides balanced, was the Wyrm. A neutral party, at first.* *Some whisper, now, that the Weaver is insane. That it is the Weaver that is the true enemy of the Garou. This is practically heresy, however.* *But Syntax can see it. He sees the beginning of it all. The same way Winter learned of her destiny. The same way Tor was brought face to face with Fenris. And he can see the centuries of the Wyrm trying to keep up with the Weaver's webs, a futile task, it seemed. And he can see when the Weaver finally traps the Wyrm in those webs* *Like a fly to a spider, the Wyrm thrashed in the webs, only getting itself caught all the more firmly. The strands cutting into its skin like garrote wire stretcjhed too tightly. Held firmly, as if in a straightjacket. The agony becoming form . . . banes.* *Syntax was suddenly made aware of the truth. That the Wyrm wasn't trying to destroy anything. That it only wanted to be freed of the webs that held it firm. That its anger caused it to lash out at the parent of itself and the Weaver wasn't intentional malice. The banes were merely overzealous in attempting to free their 'father'.* *He woke up suddenly* We're going about this all wrong. *A voice whispered on the wind. There, yet not* "You are. But now that you know, what are you going to do to do the RIGHT thing?" post comment

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