Five hundred years ago, while researching the legend of Malalahala, Albert Smith, an archaeologist, ran across a Fitollan account never before seen by a non-Fitollan scribe. It told of a civilization in Agrathia whose people lived their lives worshiping a god, whom they believed to have created the universe and all the worlds that inhabit it. Annually, the citizens made it a point to travel to the god�s temple located in the world�s ancient capital and make offerings to it. In his autobiography, Smith describes what he would do next:

I was extremely excited by my discovery and resolved right then to forgo my journey to find the true meaning of the Legend of Malalahala and instead seek out this civilization. I was especially interested in the temple around which the society�s culture revolved.

I was thoroughly intrigued by the account. To everyone in modern times, Agrathia is the center of all modern technology, the origin of all life�s new gadgets. Far more scientifically inclined and technologically advanced than any other present day society, it is difficult to imagine that their culture ever revolved around such a religious subject matter. In any case, I set out immediately.

After spending another month in the Fitollan archives, Smith learned that the civilization, known as Nifala, had met an untimely demise rather suddenly and had since become ruins, probably completely covered by the desert sands that surrounded it. It ultimately took Smith four years to locate the temple. There, he learned the complete story of the god whom the Nifalans had worshiped. He continued in his autobiography:

The temple was vast and extravagant; even after thousands of years of abandonment, it still held a certain grandeur about the place. The people had obviously gone to great lengths to ensure their god had an appropriate worldly vessel in which he could comfortably remain during his visits down from heavenly plane. My team and I worked cautiously through the ruins, basking in the glow of our success until suddenly, Vincent Grey, a young college student studying to become an archaeologist such as myself, left out an exclamation of such mirth, I thought he might have come face-to-face with a native Nifalan himself, who could tell us everything we wanted to know about Nifalan culture.

Instead, Vincent had discovered a giant room, writing all over the walls, detailing, what I later found out, was the history of the god who lived in this temple. It took several years to decipher it all, but the story went like this:

My name is Kirfeyra, and I am a humble servant of our god and deity. I began my service to our god when I was but a boy. Orphaned shortly after birth, I was found, abandoned, in the gardens of the temple, and the head priest agreed to take me in and ensure that I was properly cared for. Thus, I was raised in the warm, forgiving glow of our god and deity. Our god and I grew very close since I lived in his light all hours of every day of my life. Shortly after I turned fifteen, he began to talk to me, and I, being a loyal servant, wrote down all that he said.

He told me the sad tale of his origin. Though we worshiped him as the god of creation, he was actually the tool, used by the true God to create the universe. After creating so many, our god began to watch his creation�humans�as they went about their lives, and soon he longed to become human himself. But he was without power to do so.

In like manner, he continued to speak with me and though I tried to comfort him by reminding him that he had the power to create the universe, our god and deity took no solace in this fact�.



Oppressed by humans for centuries, the Nagruvians have finally reached the breaking point and begun to rebel against their self-appointed superiors�violently. Hundreds of thousands have been killed in the civil war raging through Nagru, as entire cities have gone up in flames. With the resistance against them dwindling slightly, the angered Nagruvians search for new target which local pathologist, Blythe Raiden, kindly gives them: Enchantment.

On the eve of summer, the Nagruvians prepare to invade.

Note: I understand that this background is somewhat open-ended and vague, but I do have a plan of how things should progress and the plot is good. It�s going to be awesome.

Worlds:



Races:



Character Sheet


My Character

Name: Lain Sumner

Age: 23

Gender: Female

Race: Lyconian

Birthday: April 24

Occupation: Graduate student of Journalism; Teaching Assistant of and lead researcher with Professor Tribblestone

Location: Enchantment

Personality: Lain is a very intelligent girl who dreams of being a journalist. Unfortunately, her young appearance usually causes people to not take her seriously. She has a short fuse when it comes to her looks or her ex-boyfriend, who just recently broke up with her. She enjoys taking risks and trying new things, though given her privileged and pampered life, she has a tendency to turn her nose up at some things and to get hostile when people criticize her. She�s headstrong and often insists its either her way or the highway.

Appearance:
Though 23, Lain looks about 17 or 18. This is a source of endless aggravation to her because people rarely take her seriously. She has black hair and blue-green eyes.

(Please don�t steal this picture. It�s not mine, and it�s probably not yours either.)

Likes: reading, chocolate cake, pineapple, broccoli, sneaking into and exploring abandoned buildings, painting, late night movies

Dislikes: her ex-boyfriend (or should she say �despises�?), hovermoto racing, makeup, Brussels sprouts, pickles, soap operas, damaged books, her young appearance

Strengths: She�s flexible, light on her feet, and a fast learner. She adapts to new situations with ease.

Weaknesses: She�s not physically strong and, thereby, easily overpowered. She often severely underestimates her opponents and thus relies heavily on her reflexes.

Weapon: Her shield (see below for explanation)

Special Power: Lain has control over unbreakable shield, which she activates with the heart locket she always wears. Her shield has two manifestations. The first is a force field, which appears as a barely visible wall. She can expand and contract this force field; however, she cannot use it as a weapon until she changes it to its second manifestation. In its second form, the shield becomes tangible, imbued with any one quality she needs at the moment she activates its transformation, and can be used as a weapon. In this form, the shield cannot expand and only protects the surface area declared at the time the shield enters into its second appearance. She can only change the shield into its tangible form once every 24 hours or she can borrow from three special charges she gets twice a year. If she runs out of these chargers and morphs the shield into its second transformation more than once in a day, it will break. If this happens, it can be repaired, but the process takes at least three months and can take up to six. The shield-locket must be taken to a specific magical blacksmith in Enchantment for repairs.

Family Situation: Lain is in a family of four. Her mother, Haley, co-owns HAzEL Cosmetics with her sister, Eleanor, while her father, Tristan, owns Sumner Electronics, an electronics company that produces everything from TVs to head phones. When she was younger, her parents made sure their business trips never coincided, so that one of them would always be home with the girls, but as she and her sister grew older, their parents started going on more and more business trips. Now that she�s moved out completely, her parents are rarely home. Her sister, Delaney (24), is a famous actress, who burst onto the scene five years ago starring in Forsaken, a popular movie featuring a group of supernatural teenagers, who save the world from destruction.

Bio: Lain grew up in a close, yet disconnected family. Her parents emigrated to Enchantment from Atlanta when they were very young. They each started their own businesses and met at a job fair while interviewing for employees. After falling in love, they married and had two daughters, whom they love with all their hearts. They treated both of their daughters equally and refused to favor one over the other. Through concerted effort, Lain�s parents made sure at least one of them was in Enchantment with the children at all times. As the girls got older, however, their parents travelled more and more. The success of her parents� businesses meant that Lain had just about everything she wanted as a child and more.

When she was four, Lain began taking tumbling and dance classes. Lain discovered her passion for writing at an early age. She often enjoyed doodling landscapes, and one day, she realized that she also attached each landscape with a story�a background on what went down in its presence. Recognizing her love of writing for what it was, Lain pursued journalism courses in school. Her relatively small stature and lock-picking prowess made sneaking into abandoned buildings easy for her, so she started doing it on a regular basis, in search of a juicy story. As she got older, however, this often got her in trouble.

At sixteen, shortly after Lain got her driver�s license, she and her friend experienced a near fatal car accident. While driving through downtown, a truck lost control and swerved toward her car. She tried to throw up a reinforced shield to protect her and her friend, but she�d already used her charges for the year. The shield shattered when the car slammed into it, breaking her leg in three places and putting her in a small coma. She awoke a couple days later and spent several days in the hospital undergoing more tests and recovering. During this time, Lain met Dylan Parr, also hospitalized because of the accident. He�d been in the truck with his father when he�d lost control of the vehicle. Recovering from a hard blow to the head, Lain and Dylan bonded and started dating shortly after they were released from the hospital. Her father, meanwhile, had the necklace repaired and presented it to her as a gift on the day she got her cast off.

Lain and Dylan were very close. After they�d been together half a year, Dylan transferred to her school. Lain had always assumed that he would be the love of her life, and she would be the love of his (he�d always told her such). She often fantasized that they�d graduate together, get married, and have three children (Casey, Riley, and Dakota). Her leg successfully healed, Lain picked tumbling and dance up again. At this same time, Delaney started her acting career. After her stunning success as Matilda in Forsaken, Delaney�s job took her all over the world, so she, like her parents, was often away from home. Thus, Lain�s house spent most of its time empty, save for Lain and, sometimes, Dylan.

Lain and Dylan graduated both high school and college and started grad school together, dating for a total of seven years before Dylan inexplicably dumped her in March. Devastated, Lain found no recourse except in her work and threw herself into whole-heartedly. When she was chasing a story, she didn�t have to think about her own personal issues, and thus began her habit of doggedly hunting down every single detail of any article she writes. This path consistently put her in dangerous situations, so she carefully honed her reflexes with her shield and her ability to wield it as a weapon.

Love Interest: Definitely not Dylan.

Note: Hovermoto racing is a lot like motocross racing, except the bikes fly in the air, anywhere between thirty and fifty feet off the ground.

Name: Lei Jasmine Ray

Age: 19

Gender: Female

Race: Remedian

Birthday: January 7

Occupation: Works with Blythe; seamstress

Location: Enchantment

Personality: Lei is a fairly quiet girl. She is smart, graceful, and remains relatively calm throughout most situations. She can be extremely blunt at times and thus, though she tries to be friendly, most people are turned off by her abrasive attitude and she�s doesn�t really have many friends. As a result, she�s a bit relationship-stupid. She�s very serious and not easily intimidated, though sometimes, small flecks of wonder and curiosity will flicker into her eyes. She is scholarly and studious and does her research before jobs--that is, she thinks before she acts�and is very down-to-earth and businesslike in all her dealings.

Appearance:

Likes: Children, kiwi, her hair, sewing and making clothes, moonflowers and yellow roses

Dislikes: Dogs, intense heat or cold, bell peppers, broccoli, chocolate

Strengths: Speed, stealth, her innate healing ability, creativity

Weaknesses: Her healing ability is limited, while she does heal injuries, depending on the depth and size of the injury, it can take from minutes to days and, sometimes weeks, if the injury is serious enough. An incident from her youth left her mostly blind in her left eye, so her depth perception is messed up and she doesn't have any peripheral vision in her left eye. She�s also anemic and prone to fainting and/or dizzy spells.

Weapon: Herself; occasionally a staff when she feels so inclined

Special Power: Lei posses the ability to alter the density of objects; she typically manifests this ability on herself to �phase� through objects or increase the density of various parts of her body to protect herself. She does not have the power to make herself dense enough to withstand certain things, and if she allows herself to become not dense enough, her molecules will essentially break apart and she�ll die.

Family Situation: Orphan; her parents died when she was very young, so she spent her days at the orphanage back home with her sister, Kei.

Bio: (Will add later.)

Love Interest: None.


Rules:
1. Follow all basic RP rules.
2. My word is law. No arguments. If you don�t like the way something is happening, you can bow out of the RP and alert me of your decision to do so.
3. Mention �pineapple� somewhere in your post to show you�ve read the rules.
4. This RP follows the three strike rule. You have three chances to comply with the rules before you are kicked out.
5. While 300 word posts are not always necessary, good, solid posts are. Try your hardest and don�t forget to spellcheck!
6. If you are busy, please try to let me know so that the RP can continue without you.
7. PLEASE ONLY JOIN IF YOU ARE DEDICATED TO THIS RP. I can already tell you the RP will go through rough patches when there will be little posting. During these times, I ask that you bear with RP and help it along by posting as much as you possibly can (and nudging your friends to post).
8. This RP will be limited to 13 characters only, not including Blythe.

Character Slots:
1. Lain Sumner (ebacusta)
2. Azazel Kane (Jayu Makusho)
3. Author (Frostburn/Franken Stein)
4. Vatrix (Itu)
5. Curtis Nahari (Noise � King)
6. Cody Matthias Graves (Buttataki Joe)
7.
8. Akasha (tomabird)

Working with Blythe:
1. Wesla "Wes" Moore (Drifter)
2. Lachellen Emiry (Platinum Trickster Negi-kun)
3. Lei Jasmine Ray (ebacusta)
4.


This RP is currently: open to the public

Age: Ancient

Gender: Male

Race: Remedian

Birthday: Oct. 13th

Occupation: Part time delinquent. Full time annoyance. Always a student.

Location: Enchantment

Personality: His common sense is nonexistent. His long term memory is just about the same as his short term memory, which is just a pinch better than his common sense. He mispronounces names, forgets faces, and is rarely mistaken as intelligent, despite the fact he’s lived for centuries, making him one of, it not the, oldest Remedians.

Appearance: SEE PHOTO BELOW

Azazel is a tall yet slender individual. His hair is constantly styled differently, however is always blonde in some way. He gets bored and plays with it. His clothing differs as well, mostly to punk stylish apparel to dressy classy attire. His appearance for the majority of the time is around early twenties. However, he has been mistaken as late teens, as well as mid to late twenties as well. It all depends on his attire for the day, as well as how much boredom can be reflected in his hair. He has one bright blue eye, and one green eye.



Likes: Food. Games. Food. Talking. Adventures that involve finding food. Adventures that do not involve finding food, Bags of chips. Donuts. Pizza. Ice Cream. Smiles. Things that smell nice. Food. Following random people. Small animals. An intense dramatic scene followed by "Dun Dun Dun", Sunshine, the Moon, stars. Starfish, Food. Music. Dancing. Rubbing his face with fluffy objects. (To be honest, this list could probably go on forever...)

Dislikes: Seriousness. Over dramatic scenarios without the "Dun Dun Dun"

Strengths: Extremely powerful Remedian healing ability. Has immense tolerance for pain, and is gifted with great speed.

Weaknesses: Physical & mental strength is weak. Has practically no combat experience. Most likely would lose a fist fight with a door knob.

Weapon: DUN DUN DUN!

Special Power: Being one of the ancient Remedians, Azazel is gifted with an extreme healing ability. Immediate regeneration of dead tissue and organs. At times, has regenerated back from termination. Also, never ages, most likely due to healing ability. Along with healing, he is gifted with great speed. He never backs down from a challenge, but will run away screaming from a fight. If this happens, it'll be best not to chase him. His top speed surpasses automobiles. However, if he continues the pace for too long, when he finally stops. He immediate passes out and dreams of food.

Family Situation: Has never had a family. Somewhat of a loner, not by choice. Just that most people can't stand to be around him for too long. He randomly carries a small kitten around with him, which he always ends up losing, and miraculously finds later on.

Bio: Born in his kind's homeland, Livonia. Azazel Kane was among the first Remedians in existence. He became well known among his peers for his immense ability to regenerate. He had so much potential, that the entire Remedian kind referred to him as royalty.

However, since then, a lot has changed.

Never quite meeting his "potential" the Remedian race has long forgotten Azazel's past. A feat he is very fond of. He never really wanted to be the Oh Mighty Remedian healer of all healers. Sounded too bothersome to him.

Not to mention, there would be lack of adventure. And everyone needs adventure.

After the Remedian race gave up on Azazel, he left his homeland. Only to come and visit every once in a while. Since then he has jumped from planet to planet, never staying anywhere for too long. Downside to living for so long and never aging.

As for the events in Azazel's past. It's not quite clear. And getting Azazel to talk about his past seriously, isn't exactly an easy feat. Do not believe me, go ahead and give it a try.

At the current moment, he is pleased with the location he is at. He’s pretending to be a regular (or at least as regular as he can be) student. Exactly how long this will last, he hasn't really decided yet. Probably until he can find that kitten again. :/

Quoted^(ref) ebacusta (on 28 November, 2008, 11:42 PM PST) —

Her sister, Delaney (19), is a famous actress, who just recently burst onto the scene after starring in Forsaken, a popular movie featuring a group of supernatural teenagers, who save the world from destruction.

((I see what you did there. Also, fixed your retoggler, should work fine now.))

Name: Author. But after someone misunderstood his name, he's been called Arthur. Probably better for blending in.

Age: Literally he's about two years old. He was created to appear as a 17 year-old though, and hasn't changed in that appearance.

Gender: Male

Race: Avatar (identical to human in appearance)

Birthday: July 22

Occupation: Planeswalker / Student / Author (it's a title and a name)

Location: Enchantment

Personality: Author can be eccentric to outsiders, especially when he starts talking cryptically about breaking walls. Other than that he's fairly outgoing, except in class. While he was made to have certain knowledge, other parts of it are not known to him, so he tries to learn as much as possible. Outside of class he is amiable and friendly, but likes to only speak when he has something to contribute. When someone appears who knows of Author and Samuel, he will turn deadly serious and, if they are one of those assisting Samuel, even violent.

Appearance: He no longer has the book, pen, or pages.

Likes: Reading, exploring new worlds, learning,, and meeting new people.

Dislikes: Writing, arrogance, elitists, and most especially people who can't appreciate what they have.

Strengths: Imagination, can't be shaken easily, loyalty to his friends, an immense amount of battle experience with all sorts of types, and he's creative both in battle and out.

Weaknesses: Isn't the type to plan things out, being confronted with someone who can recognize what he is, choices (extremely indecisive).

Weapon: His entire body. Explained below.

Special Power: Author can manipulate Imagination at will. As this comprises his entire body, he can change it at will but only slightly. For example, while he can and has altered his face to gain one (the no-face is his natural appearance), he cannot extend his limbs beyond their normal lengths. He can change his outer "layer" into an armor, but can't grow in size by inflating. He is also constantly holding himself up through this ability, as if he ever stops doing so, better hope what's underneath him can withstand two tons of concentrated pressure. The second use of this ability is being able to open gateways through Imagination, which will be explained in the bio.

Family Situation: Doesn't have one.

Bio: Author's first memory is being a condemned prisoner in a Western jail, sentenced to be hung that afternoon. He escaped through some help by an ice mage from another world who called himself Frost. After evading capture, Frost told Author who he was, but Author couldn't remember. He did, however, regain his abilities as an Author, a person capable of manipulating Imagination at his command, with a pen and book acting as the key to their abilities.

Imagination was a realm that encompassed all others (including fictional worlds), allowing those who could use it to open gateways to the innumerable worlds it spanned. Those who could travel to Imagination and wield it as a weapon were called Authors, people who formed characters from their writing and traveled the multiverse.

As time passed, Author and Frost traveled to numerous worlds. They learned of Hannika, who was to be their constant pursuer and eventual comrade; of how Author was merely a character written by the real "Author" who was currently in a coma after a car crash; of Samuel's intent to make his daughter Hannika immortal by imprisoning her in a story where she and the real Author had never been in the car crash; and ultimately that Author was just a pretender to his title, taking a power that hadn't been his in the first place.

The climax of this journey came when the real Author's consciousness, having hidden himself by pretending to be a second personality of the fake Author, the "evil" side, gave up his life to protect his character and Hannika from Samuel's strike. With his final breath he willingly gave his Author status over to his character, transforming him into an Avatar, or a character with the abilities of an Author. When he was reborn, massive amounts of Imagination compressed to rebuild him, resulting in his extraordinary weight.

Author and Hannika now pursue Samuel, who is heading towards insanity and the ultimate goal of destroying all worlds and remaking them anew, permanently frozen in time, so that no one can ever be hurt ever again. Author's stop in Enchantment is due to the massive amounts of Imagination he sensed from the world, and has decided to stay in this world to look for Samuel, believing that he could be hiding in Enchantment looking for a way to make his goal reality. Hannika remains outside the world, but frequently contacts Author with results from her own search.

Since Author technically has no soul or even existed, he is unable to wield a pen or book. But, as a natural character born from Imagination gifted with the power to manipulate it, he is in effect his own key. He cannot summon characters to come to his aid, but sometimes they come of their own volition, regarding him not as their master, but rather as a fellow character.

Love Interest: None. He's busy trying to find and stop an insane father who is trying to remove all conflict and pain by wiping away all worlds to remake them frozen in place. Not exactly the best time to look for a girlfriend.

Accepted Jajoo and Frosty. I'm assuming neither of you want to work for Blythe, so. And the rest o' y'all better finish your profiles nao. D< (And also, Lain's profile has been changed dramatically.)

Name: Vatrix

Age: Circa 6000, Appears to be in mid 30s

Gender: Female

Race: Mixed Blood; Original line: Demon, Secondary line: Shapeshifter. Does not contain Umby, although such is oft thought because of her uncanny resemblance to the beings. (See Appearance.)

Birthday: She�s forgotten over time. Besides, she never thought it was quite that important.

Occupation: Nomad

Location: Atlanta

Personality: Vatrix is gentle-hearted, tender and compassionate in nature, which flows smoothly with her serene and appreciative temperament, giving some the illusion that she is a quiet woman. And indeed, she is often quite collected, knowing how to control herself and her emotions, and giving her a humble air under praise. However, she is likewise quite perceptive and insightful, giving her softness an entirely new level of depth. In heart, she is devoted to those she loves and cares for, and such are numbered little, for she holds dear all those she meets. Yet just as swiftly she often leaves them for some other place, and her versatile ways continue to uphold that unshakeable air of ambiguity about who she really is.

Appearance: What belies her unusual resemblance to the race of Umbies is her amazingly fair skin, so smooth and without tarnish it gives her a surreal appearance under certain lighting. Her eyes, likewise, bear the characteristic whiteness of the Umby race, though hers are literally blanked out completely, no pupil visible to any, and some have mistaken this gaze for being blind, therefore. However, upon closer inspection, one would find that there is indeed a ring of faintest gold marked upon her eyes, perhaps in place of where the iris should begin. However, her height deviates from the norm of the race, as she stands at an unimpressive 6�1� in comparison to their 7� average. Her hair, likewise, is not the glorious hue of snow, but rather a red so dark that under normal circumstances it appears to be black, and only when bathed in light of sun or moon is its true color apparent.

Her attire is warm and simple, comfortable and functional. She wears a golden tunic, embroidered with affectionate and benevolent runes within the creases and along the borders in threads of copper, bronze and other warmly colored metals. Strings also, that are used to tighten the sleeves about her wrists or the collar of the otherwise baggy, wide-necked top are also made of string in the same colors. She wears tight fitting pants made of durable, breathable cloth in a warm autumnal brown, with stitching of deep goldenrod, paired with boots that fall just a quarter below her knees, lined with what appear to be heavy, but not belligerent, buckles. She wears a belt around her waist, over her tunic, of some warmly colored leather, also decorated in similar fashion to her shirt.

Vatrix commonly wears a thin bronze chain upon her forehead, in the manner of a circlet, a portion of this chain falling down the back of her head just to her neck. Her hair comes forward, framing her face with long bangs, while the rest is pulled into a small French braid that leads to the back of her neck where the remainder of her hair is pulled into a long braid that falls to just above her waist.

Click here to see what Vatrix looked like in her youth.

Likes: Harmony, younglings, Nature, sweet and/or sour fruits (such as pineapples), merriment, animals, unexpected changes in the weather, Love, forgiveness, poetry.

Dislikes: Hatred, abandonment, despair, war, torture.

Strengths: Great endurance built up over many years of fleeing for her life and otherwise aimless wandering. Fairly decent reflexes accumulated through her staunch position of defending herself rather than sparking fights. Empathy and, when necessary, apathy; she will do what she feels she has to in order to keep herself and others safe.

Weaknesses: If one should ever get close to her, as though through a relationship or camaraderie, not necessarily love, this would prove a deadly weakness. Also, children. Most weaknesses of hers pertain to her emotions.

Weapon: Herself, and otherwise, a long curved knife, with one jagged edge, and the other side smooth, which she usually keeps located in her boots within its tough but thin sheath. If not there, it is wedged in her belt.

Special Power: Her shape-shifter�s blood allows her to change her form at will, as naturally as one would breathe, however, she can only manifest herself in the form of another living creature, though size does not matter�though she does have her limits. Too small is not possible, nor too big. Her demonic heritage has left her with the uncommon, but not unheard of, ability to use telepathy with even beings who do not possess the gift.

Family Situation: Most are assumed to be deceased. Of her real father, she never knew, and does not care to know.

Bio:

Love Interest: Deceased.

[OOC: I'm basically carrying over my character from the last RP with just a few changes. For instance, the name. And Eba, since it seems you need followers for Blythe, I guess I'll make Wesla one of the baddies (for now). Oh, and pineapple. Tell me if this is acceptable.]

Name: Wesla "Wes" Moore

Age: 18

Gender: Male

Race: Human

Birthday: March 16

Occupation: Writer/Works with Blythe

Location: Nagru

Personality: Wesla is what one would call a people person. He loves being around others who understand his nature--just as long as the group isn't too large. Appearances tend to become highly important in his mind, and because of this he can get nervous in situations he doesn't know how to handle properly. If there happens to be an otherwise neutral individual that expresses hatred toward him, it will haunt him at a heightened level and plague his mind near endlessly. Natural enemies seem to be exempt from this little tendency, as their opinion of him, be it good or bad, does not matter at all. Though of slightly less importance, he has a dreadful habit of changing minuscule portions of his personality to please others. This benefits him in some ways as well; since he can change himself to adjust to the desires of others, Wesla is a very skilled conversationalist.

Appearance:
(Remove the heart symbol on his belt and the eyes are hazel. He wears a black pair of tennis-shoes and socks that rise barely above his ankles.)

Likes: Pointless conversations, the company of others, and writing

Dislikes: Pain, heights, and people who are impossible to deal with

Strengths: Conversations, disguising himself, making friends, using blunt objects as weapons, and writing

Weaknesses: Isn't skilled with guns, heights, pessimistic, and is a bit clumsy sometimes

Weapon: A slightly unusual metal baseball bat; it seems to be able to hold up against blades and firearms without being sliced apart.

Special Power: Wesla can alter his own voice and body at will by tapping two fingers to his throat and focusing his mind on who or what he wants to mimic.

Family Situation: He has only one sibling to call his own, and even then they are only a half siblings. Wesla's sister, who seems to be neverendingly bouncy and cheery, likes to toy around with her younger brother, being of around twenty years his senior. She is rarely reliable and cannot be depended on when advice is requested of her. Her one redeemable quality is the ability to drag others up from the depths of depression with her perky nature.

Wesla's mother and father are happily married and quite content with each other, although they are getting on in years. His father is at the age of fifty and his mother is in her forties. They're very supportive of their children and always encourage them to do their best. The father is a parent figure that Wesla is easily able to get along with, they both share the same humor and even have mostly the same personality in regards to their outlooks on life. The mother can be most easily linked with his sister, both of them have a bubbly personality and like the family to do everything as a group.

Considering the state of affairs on Nagru, Wesla as well as his family is being protected from the rebellious robots. This is mainly due to the fact that Wesla works exclusively for Blythe, though it is unsure why someone like him would wish to do such a thing.

Bio: The boy has led a fairly ordinary life, the only thing unique about him is his special power. When he was ten, the youth stumbled upon a strange, pink sphere lying next to a small crater in the ground. The sphere immediately caused the child to drool for unknown reasons, it just looked so fluffy and delicious. He dropped his knees directly to the cold ground and stuffed the sphere into his mouth, taking large, noisy bites of the unknown object. Upon swallowing every bit of the sphere, his voice and appearance became uncontrollable and changed at an alarming rate, a yell forcing itself out of his mouth. Clasping his throat tightly with both hands, his fingers making contact with the skin, his erratic voice leveled itself and he returned to normal. A couple years later on he began to figure out the trick of this strange happening, the unknown sphere had given him the ability to alter his voice and appearance through finger contact to his throat. Today, he has, for the most part, mastered the use of this special power, though the main use for it in his case is pranks.

Love Interest: No one in particular, though girls who Wesla considers fun are his fancy.

This post has been edited by Drifter on 2008-12-05, 02:12 PM

Name: Curtis Nahari

Age: 24

Gender: Male

Race: Human

Birthday: August 2nd

Occupation: Club Bouncer at various establishments; Part-time College student

Location: Enchantment

Personality: Although a big hearted individual, Curtis�s strong sense of self is often a turn off for many people upon first meeting. He is a bright, heavily motivated and driven man, but more often than none his nature is that of a domineering and overpowering individual. His greatest flaw, besides his lack of �book smarts� is that Curtis imposes his own sense of self upon others, so much so that he expects people to follow in his path. This leads the many people around him to believe the man to be egotistical�which is somewhat true�but he is a natural born leader.

Never second guessing, always walking straight forward with his held high, the dynamic energy that Curtis exudes draws people to him; those who do enter his inner circle of friends regard him as a person they can trust and someone worth putting their faith in. He does not handle indecisive people, or people similar to him well. He is heavily critical of his limited range of information and scholarly knowledge. While Curtis knows how to deal with real world situations well enough to get by, he considers himself ignorant to the mechanics of the world around him.

Worst of all is his obsessive nature; once Curtis finds something he likes or dislikes, he goes after it whole-heartedly.

Appearance: Although he would most likely disagree, Curtis owes most of his physical features to his mother, whom he takes after. As with most everyone in the Nahari family, aside from his fair skinned grandmother, his skin is dark brown. Curtis isn�t very physically imposing, weighing in at 150 pounds and standing at six feet, but his powerful eyes make him difficult to approach. Possibly due to his ancestral background, or simply some variation in his genetic makeup which caused it, his eyes are a natural gold-brown color. Although more often kept in braids or and occasionally cornrows, the long, black, curly hair is another feature of his mothers passed along to him. His handsome face is viewed secondarily by most of the strangers who meet him; instead their attention is captured by the large amount of glaring Curtis does.

Curtis�s clothing is whatever he finds most comfortable or easy to move around in. Surprisingly, this entails forms of dress such as sweaters and slacks, varying in color and design. He does seem to carry a fondness for the color beige, and often wears white button up shirts underneath beige sweaters or vests, with black slacks to finish the ensemble. Depending on the weather, a leather jacket may adorn the sweater/button up combo. His shoes are rather formal, usually black dress shoes or loafers. Settled over the braided hair is a front billed cap that angles up and back over the head like a right angle, more commonly known as a Kangol Hat.


Likes: Family members, reading challenging his limits, martial arts flicks, children, anything sour or sweet like pineapple, fighting (although he would never admit it), video games, dancing

Dislikes: Brash people (like himself), conceited people, sheltered people, cold weather, scientists, weak people, bitter food, puzzle games, not being able to understand what�s around him

Strengths: Very physically strong, tough, and mentally capable of processing difficult situations while prioritizing his tasks or duties; street smart and skilled at fighting.

Weaknesses: Cannot handle brash people well; easy to anger and slow to calm; tends to use force to deal with most situations as he doubts his own intelligence; natural born ability can cause him to lose the ability to feel pain, and thus put his life at risk.

Weapon: Bare hands

Special Power: A genetic mutation bred into his ancestors as a tool for warriors of old to use in battle which is prominent in his own family. Curtis contains within him a defect known more commonly as the �Blood Riot�; when faced with a particularly dangerous situation, the human body produces endorphins which give people a greater sense of control over themselves allowing them to persist with strenuous activity for longer periods of time. This natural doping was expanded and enhanced by the mutation, which puts Curtis into a state where his body does not process physical pain. Thus his physical prowess far surpasses that of the average human, but because the nerve receptors in the body to not register pain those under the effects can often die while engaged in combat.

A strange side effect of the defect is luminous veins, which are veins that gleam a bright blue color when the �Blood Riot� is triggered mostly collected around the fist, forearm, heart, feet and shins. The nickname for the genetic mutation was given due to the luminous veins and the increased aggression, although the latter has not been proven as a side effect.

Family Situation: The Nahari family has always been a close nit one. Curtis grew up alongside his younger brother, Derek, under the watchful eye of his father, Vincent, an Engineer, his mother, Ayana, a mediator for a Foreign Affairs Bureau, and his retired grandmother, Kimani. His childhood is filled with memories of time spent in the company of his now deceased grandfather, who was, as his mother often said, the keeper of the family spirit. After his father�s passing, Vincent did his best to maintain relations with his now estranged brothers and sisters, but without their father�s support, the family drifted apart. Curtis and Derek both moved out together when they entered college, with Derek graduating within the coming month and Curtis returning to his schooling after an �extended break.� The two brothers still keep a close relationship with their parents, grandmother, and cousins, calling them often.

Bio:

Love Interest: A young woman he's seen snooping around from time to time, although he doesn't know her name.

Drifter, Itu, and ennKAY, you're all accepted. :3 You've been added to the list. Hopefully, we'll be able to start soon, just as soon as all the bios come in!

Name: Lachellen Emiry [known in the worlds as the White Steel Devil]

Age: Unknown-- has been sighted across the worlds for about 40 years.

Gender: Female

Race: Nagruvian/Remedian hybrid [details in bio section]

Birthday: Unknown-- her first sighting was on an 18th of February, though.

Occupation: Refined Experimental Weapon

Location: Enchantment

Personality: Lachellen is a dry, dry girl who keeps a straight face most of the time-- although she winces when hurt, cries when sad, laughs when happy, and yells when angered. However, this is the exception more than the rule, as she often has no clue of how to behave in public outside of her usual appearance. A very basic, very straightforward person as far as temper is concerned, whatever bothers or disturbs her, she won't physically show it. She does, however, soften among Umbies and Remedians, having non-violently interacted with them the most.

Appearance:

Likes: Things going her way, work, sleep, Umbies, Remedians, maintenance, upgrades.

Dislikes: Things not going her way, targets, Nagruvians, equipment malfunctions, food.

Strengths: As an enhanced experimental weapon, Lachellen's body has been built using a platinum-colored, multi-metal alloy composed of many rare meteor minerals from different worlds. Add to this her inner mechanisms and her battle experience/programming, and you have one deadly killing device. She is also fluent in the most popular languages and knowledgeable of most legends, truths and myths in the universe, largely because of her extended studies and travels of the Umbiquivian.

Weaknesses: Lachellen believes almost blindly in logic and common sense: she receives an order, she executes it. She has to do something, she does it. In this sense, it's easy to turn her to one's favor by knowing the right words in the right situation-- even as good a follower as she is, if the logic overrides the mission, she will abandon it altogether or seek a new option to do things.

Weapon: Her body: hands, feet, arms, legs, etc. The quarterstaff shown is her 'weapon' of choice-- it is treated as an extension of her body, and while not in use, it will merge back as additional metal coating.

Special Power: Lachellen can rebuild and reshape the surface of her body in various ways: she can reattach parts that get severed in combat, create a shield or a weapon at whim, and even fix and shift her mass to make herself taller, shorter, heavier or lighter. The extent and effectiveness of this ability is directly dependent of her current state [best condition = best use].

Family Situation: A small, nameless maintenance team compromised of 4 mechanical androids, each in charge of a specific aspect of her: armor, weapons, inner systems and power supply. They each play parts of brothers and sisters while at her 'home': a distant, solitary space shuttle far beyond common radar reaches. However, since it's classified as a 'world', it is still accessible [and has been accessed in the past] via an Umbiquivian door.

Bio:

Love Interest: None-- her reputation as the White Steel Devil, coupled with her inexperience, definitely does not favor her as far as relationships go.

Name: Specialty Droid #0049, Model C:M (Child: Male), a.k.a. �Cody� (designated full name: Cody Matthias Graves)

Age: Looks about eleven or twelve, yet is roughly over 50 years old.

Gender: Technically has no gender, though is considered male.

Race: Nagruvian-engineered android created to look and act human.

Birthday: Unknown manufacture date; activated February 11.

Occupation: All-around handyman (mechanic, carpenter, plumber, etc.), though more accurately (yet jokingly) a �repairman�s apprentice�.

Location: Agrathia

Personality: Straightforward, cut-and-dry, (brutally) honest: that�s typically Cody in a nutshell, at least when he�s dealing with those he�s not totally familiar with. It�s not really that Cody is emotionless, he�s just literally missing that certain aspect in his programming; or, more precisely, has a few bugs. Cody bases his actions and thoughts on what makes sense, meaning if it�s irrational, it doesn�t fly. Words like �negative� or �optimistic� can�t really describe Cody� He�s more of a realist, forming opinions and decisions by observance, running it through the proper scenario simulations and calculations, and simply stating any the pros and cons of any particular subject. If the bad outweighs the good, he avoids it; if it�s vice versa, he accepts it. Cody�s big on following the rules set by nature and the situations at hand presented daily, but has a reoccurring tendency to disobey most other means of personified authority, not due to a purely snide character or a superiority complex, yet he simply defines his obligations and responsibilities for himself most of the time.

There�s a side to Cody that most others often don�t realize, however, and that�s his fierce loyalty to those he deems worth his services, their �worth� usually determined by how large a debt Cody believes himself to owe them (such as his activation by Cal: because he gave Cody life, Cody owes Cal his life, which is in turn �paid� for via his work and protection). Cody repays the smallest of help without hesitation, yet with equity, meaning he won�t go out of his way for someone who did something minimal, but that he also won�t skip out on anyone who does him a big favor. Once given a job, however, Cody works until the most miniscule of details are complete, normally leaving any objectives fulfilled without dissatisfaction; rarely will you ever find as hard a worker with as tempered a dedication as Cody. His resolve isn�t a result of stubbornness or self-motivation, seeing as how it�s just a part of being a robot to complete the tasks asked of oneself.

Finally, Cody has an unintentional mischievous streak, often being caught taking things apart (even though he would normally put it back together perfectly afterwards) out of sheer curiosity, as he rarely sleeps, or in a more realistic sense, puts himself in �standby� mode.

Slowly but surely, Cody is developing a less cold-seeming personality, working through the glitches in his system by continuous observance of other beings and interaction with them. Sometimes he will be so bold as to venture forth and try conversation or something of the sort, yet normally chickens out due to his dislike of taking risks or making himself vulnerable. At some of the most random of times, however, it appears as though Cody has these kinds of �epiphanies�, in which something suddenly clicks about socialization, though whether they�re something as simple or complicated is completely up to chance. Cody�s mostly a loner and avoids big gatherings at most costs, unless forced otherwise.

Appearance:

Likes: Staying busy, taking things apart (and putting them back together), being to-the-point, repetition, efficiency, logic, rationalizing things, manual labor, heavy lifting, promptness, privacy, water, rhythmic noise, keeping to a schedule, organization, and puzzles.

Dislikes: Downtime, large crowds, leaving things to chance, hot weather, sitting still, having no plan, irregularity, procrastination, failure, being backed into a corner, existing without a purpose, off-tempo music, useless fluff, criticism, and flamboyant personalities.

Strengths: Because of his robotic nature, has superhuman strength (with proper amounts of electricity), quick and highly accurate thought procession, intense work ethic, cyber-enhanced reflexes, has no problem with isolation, doesn�t let personal feelings interfere with an objective, more durable than most humans, mechanical genius, hardware specialist.

Weaknesses: Requires constant hydration, is a perfectionist to a fault, lacks emotional understanding, doesn�t work well in a group, easily shuts himself away, poor communicator, disrespects mostly all authority, workaholic tendencies, only makes judgments based on reason, rarely ever takes risks, only defends himself when seriously provoked.

Weapon: Normally improvises if threatened, using various tools he carries around often, including a large crescent wrench, a hammer, nails, a screwdriver, and an electric drill. Though if fighting while utilizing his powers, will usually forego the use of weaponry and defends himself without the aid of any objects.

Special Power: As a prototype assassination and espionage droid for the Narvugians, Cody was engineered to act as both indispensable fighter and tactical information gatherer all in one, and thus was built with the proper brains and brawn to fulfill both roles. His cybernetic intelligence, though mostly reserved for mechanical and mathematical purposes in his current profession, far surpasses a normal human�s, though due to the glitches encountered early on in his design, restricts his computations of social sciences significantly. Nevertheless, Cody�s reflexive capabilities are on-par with those such as a martial arts master�s, supplemented by the ability to swiftly predict and calculate any number of possibilities and probabilities for any given scenario, thus allowing him to generate the most efficient means to deal with it. Such inhuman analysis and assessment capabilities would normally give anyone the edge in a combat situation, but due to the aim to give him a more compact design and thus the lack of capacity for concealed weaponry and the like, the Narguvarians took an alternative, more unorthodox route when it came to beefing Cody up.

Cody was implemented with a cybernetic, state-of-the-art skeletal and muscular system which worked together hand-in-hand to give Cody the boost of power he might need when engaged in combat. The "bones" are mostly fashioned out of a specially blended alloy which absorbs electricity of all kinds and internalizes it within, while the "muscles" are highly flexible, electric-reactant nano-biotic fibers that, when charged, work collectively to increase Cody�s strength. This was created along with the proper software for energy control and regulation, fundamentally allowing Cody to regulate the electricity within his body at will. In simpler terms, the skeletal system is like a circuit, and any electricity absorbed runs through it like a current until activated to be used otherwise, i.e., energizing his muscles. Cody�s �skin�, an elastic, yet incredibly durable rubber-like substance, was formulated as a means to catalyze and transfer any electrical current into his bones, the entirety of the skin�s surface having hundreds of thousands of micro-sized nerve-like connections linking directly with the skeleton. Be that Cody�s framework was so scrawny, the inclusion of standard robotic strength-enhancing �muscles� was hardly possible and thus bypassed, replaced instead by this more sophisticated system which utilized their most advanced nanotechnology and thus optimized Cody�s small frame to mask the potential power he actually possesses. Electrical overload is possible, during which case, Cody's systems will go berserk in the attempt to disperse excess electricity by any means necessary, instantly shutting his body down afterwards (which will then require a manual restart as to reboot his system).

Family Situation: Cody is one of 1000 android �siblings� (500 sisters, 499 brothers), all produced by a formerly privately-owned Narguvarian weapons and prosthetics manufacturing company which often tailored to the orders of big-name underground arms-dealing organizations. They were all of child-like design, yet each had a unique appearance, some even given special armaments or abilities for specific jobs. Though all were more or less custom-built, they each shared similar, mostly incomplete �humanity� software. Thus, the model was altogether discontinued and terminated due to many claims of dissatisfactory for whatever reasons: those still in production or yet to be sold were destroyed in bulk, the rest already in other ownership, dispatched by other personal means. Some may still be in existence, yet with the technology present in the present day and time, it�s unlikely, as they�d come off as incomplete or obsolete in comparison to the servitude robots of today�s society. As for parents, the scientists and assemblymen engineering and building these androids were really the closest thing to such a thing, yet were too numerous and mostly insignificant individually to deserve mention.

However, there is one man that Cody would most likely call something like a �father�, though the term employer/mentor would more-so fit the bill than that. Cal Graves, the owner and chief operator of Central Agrathia Service Company, happened across Cody while rummaging through an old scrapyard nearly twenty years ago while searching for spare parts and the like to replenish his supply. He activated Cody, gave him a place to stay, and repaired what little needed repairing (being a Nagruvian immigrant and former mechanic of that world gave him some technical know-how, after all, as Cal was even a bionic human). Because Cody had little else to do and no place to go, he bluntly insisted that he remain with Cal and to assist him in any way fit, so the old repairman took Cody under his wing and taught him anything and everything he needed, which turned out to be an easy task due to Cody�s robotic smarts. The two developed into business partners and lead a mutually beneficiary life for the present; Cody being the ever-faithful, always dutiful helping hand to Cal, and Cal giving Cody a reason to exist. Since Cody never knew the concept or family or that Cal lacked one altogether, they only have one another and little else.

Bio: Little is known regarding the specifics of Cody�s origin, at least to those not affiliated with where he came from: the name of the company which created him, where it was located, their associates, who he�d been manufactured for, even his age; all of it�s up to question. Dug out of a junk heap over two decades ago, he was given life and offered that life to his finder�s service as payment. For those who know of him, he�s normally referred to �that kid at Cal�s shop�; for those who have seen him, he�s described as �a damn good worker, even if hollow as they come�; and for those who take the time to at least attempt and get to know him, their opinions run along the lines of, �a subject of curiosity, an example of devotion, and sort of boring�. Ageless, never tiring, always active, Cody leads a life of perpetual conditions by acting according to his observances of the world around him and the debts he owes others. Some might call him a pitiful existence or a lifeless husk only doing what�s told of him, yet there truly is more to him than others might assume. For those expecting a lifeless doll, animated purely for servitude, they�re in for a rude awakening: Cody�s vast intelligence and increasing common sense makes him out to be an ideal conversationalist, yet his lack of emotion usually makes him monotonous, bland, yet altogether unbiased. His story is simply one whose pages have yet to reach beyond the prologue, and even should it take him centuries to fulfill, there is a yearning to achieve more beyond what he currently possesses, unexplainable to himself as that may seem.

Though that�s about all of the information regarding his past and present, here are a few factoids regarding Cody that are otherwise miscellaneous. Cody requires no food or oxygen to live, fundamentally fueled by a rechargeable powercell that requires reenergizing once every couple of years, while absorbed electricity grants him greater strength than what he usually has. However, a regular intake of water is necessary to keep his body's core from overheating, though Cody only requires the regular amount for any ordinary human (this is when not laboring, though, and will drink more often if doing so). As far as his name goes, he gets his first name, �Cody�, from the barcode tattooed on his arm, his middle name, �Matthias�, from Cal�s father�s father, and his last name, �Graves�, from Cal himself (it should also be noted that he gets his first and middle names partially from the �C:M� present beneath the barcode). Lastly, there have been incidents in the past which garnered attention for Cody, such as when he was hit by a car, but left the scene unscathed, even helping them repair what he could at the scene because he owed them for damaging the vehicle, or the time when a gang attempted to rob Cal�s shop and he stopped them all single-handedly, unarmed, and constructing a miniature jail cell which surpassed those made by the Agrathian police to temporarily detain them all. He�s been approached with many an offer from other higher-paying mechanics and companies around the city, yet remains determined to serve Cal for however long he needs to.

Love Interest: None. The concept of �love� is kind of beyond Cody�s comprehension� at least for the time being. Maybe if the glitches are �fixed� with time, he could find something along those lines, though. Love is supposed to conquer all, right?

This post has been edited by Buttataki Joe on 2008-12-22, 09:03 PM

Name: Raxodas Le'Tahr

Age: 34 in appearance. Unknown otherwise.

Gender: Male

Race: Remedian

Birthday: He cannot remember

Occupation: Spear crafter.

Location: Enchantment

Personality: Quiet around people he does not recognize, but hides a complexity unknown to any woman or man. He can be cheerful when he pleases, or simply resentful when he feels necessary. He is simple minded as well and avoids many fights, both verbal and physical, with his stunning wittiness.

Appearance: Let's take away the whispiness and put a little black cloth beneath his shirt and call it good. We will also have his left eye white for the blind effect.
(Note: Art done by Heise at Deviantart.com, not my work!!)

Likes: Cheesecake, mysterious women, his job and profession, cats with strange colored eyes, and rainy/stormy days. He finds fascination with robots also and randomly will attempt to build a tiny one out of scratch smithing metal.

Dislikes: Foul scented people, short smith hammers, bright, sunny days, the color orange, and food a day old.

Strengths: Crafting. Because of his talent with cold steel blades and polearms, Raxodas can create the blade of his choice and even engrave it with a stone. His deeper strength lies with augmentation.

Weaknesses: He is partially challenged with memory, and his left eye is blind. He is a bit of a perfectionist as well.

Weapon: A long spear blade crafted from the silver of his old home in Atlanta. It was engraved under his father's wishes with a chipped amethyst at the hilt, and the slender blade at the tip was carved to be only slightly serrated.

Special Power: He has yet to discover what true and deep power his mind hides, but he is currently working on professing his powers with dealing with engravings. He first learned to transfer the desired power from his head into a worthy stone at age 12, before he lost his memory. Since then, he has practiced at it, and at times will achieve the perfect augmentation. Other times, he will burn out a stone and channel most of his energy, causing him to sleep walk or have sleep insomnia.

Family Situation: He can remember nothing about his family. He knows only that he was abandoned after his memory loss, and that one day he swears to find any member of his family that he can.

Bio: Raxodas lived a healthy life as a child until the age of 12 when a disastrous accident occurred in his home. He does not recall the accident, but can refer to his blind left eye and constant headache at the left side of his head for proof that something did in fact happen to him. Since that remorseful day, he has not seen his family or anyone who can help him remember, or even shed some light as to what exactly happened. He became aware of having a sister named Leona, via a man about his age mentioning something about her once at a bar. It struck Raxodas' curiosity when he heard the name, and it tempted him into asking questions which lead him to knowing that she was a traveler and not exactly one with a proud name. After that, however, he lost track of the man who'd become his informatory tool and decided to just relax with the newfound job he had received during an accidental display of crafting a dagger.

Since then, he's remained with his industry and spent his days crafting weapons for the armed forces of his home land, and hasn't quite found something besides that to do. He goes to the bar occasionally, trying to meet friends or even a woman friend, but has had no such luck yet. Without letting people know, he studies his augmenting and wishes that a day will come when someone invites him along for a journey or he can discover the universe around him and somehow find his lost family.

Love Interest: To be found.
Pineapple.

This post has been edited by IceQueen on 2008-12-11, 07:42 PM

Name: Akasha

Age: 24

Gender: Female

Race: Remedian

Birthday: December 12

Occupation: Gypsy, Gambler, Bar Regular

Location: Enchantment

Personality: Very sarcastic, and has a "hit-first-ask-later" attitude. She usually has a short fuse, and its even shorter when dealing with the naive types. She's also a very practical individual; for her, ideals come second to an empty stomach. She knows when or where to put her nose in people's business, a tell-tale attitude of one who lived on the streets. Though sharp-tongued, she would mysteriously refrain from throwing the first punch, her escapades more often than not arising from people getting nasty on her.

Appearance: She has flaming blossom hair, usually roughly scrunched up in a knot and hanged loose behind her. Her eyes complement it; sharp and crimson in color. While not a picky one for clothing, she prefers dark, easy-to-move-in clothes. Under her drapes lie an assorted collection of throwing daggers, just in case. You'll never know when one of those boys get ideas.

Likes: Money, things going her way, alcohol, gambling.

Dislikes: Rainy days, things NOT going her way, people with attitudes, flirts, carrying other people's troubles.

Strengths: While not strong or fast as most people, she is definitely smart, and would not think twice of kicking sand in the face, or other underhanded tactics. Survival is first after all.

Weaknesses: She has no proper training as a fighter or a magician, and so she relies more on her wits to survive. Her attitude doesn't help either.

Weapon: Assortment of daggers, anything she can get her hands on(and be able to carry, obviously)

Special Power: Although she has the supernatural healing abilities that her kind possesses, it is her "true" eyes that makes her unique among her kind, and an outcast as well. Her eyes are the reverse of the Remedians' life-giving ability: her eyes can see lines and dots that determine a person's/object's destined destruction. When attacked at those lines and dots, any material and magical defense is useless, and regeneration is useless to use on the portion cut. It is an ultimate ability of destruction, but can only be used at short periods of time, as the brain cannot fully comprehend the reality of the eyes' vision, and thus will be destroyed when the user sustains five minutes worth of strain.

Bio:

Even as a girl, Akasha was already greeted by life's ugly face. Her hometown, a provincial Remedian town, saw her eyes as an abnormality. Her daily life back then was limited to the backyard of their house, shunned from the community.

Her family was no better. Even though they were the only ones who approached her, even they had the expression of the other villagers. Silent and tormenting years went by, and she was eventually cast out by her own family, as a famine broke out in their place. Of course, it couldn't be her fault, but human nature dictates that everyone had to point their misfortunes at something, and she was the obvious pick.

She wandered the countryside alone after that, living as a pickpocket and a gambler, moving from town to town, leaving as soon as she gets enough to make it to the next place, or as soon as her sour personality gets on everyone's nerves. She avoided any lasting connection with people, cutting them off as soon as she didn't need them anymore.

She eventually reached Enchantment, and had been staying there for three years, making a name for herself. As she was considerably better in status than how she started, she aimed to enter into the business world, to at least feel a little busy to get her mind off of things. But still, she can't help but feel something missing in her life.....

Love Interest: She's VERY hard to get. Let's put it at that.

Pineapple.

Buttataki Joe, IceQueen, tomabird, and PTN are all accepted. We'll start soon. Either this weekend or next week. Some people have asked me to wait because of finals. Plus, we need our Blythe. I'll go prod him to post his bio. Welcome aboard guys! Get excited~!

Lain had been staring at the ceiling for over three hours when she�d finally decided she�d had enough. She couldn�t sleep, and she knew exactly why. Last night, she�d attended an end-of-the-year party at her friend, Sylvia�s, new sub-penthouse apartment. She�d been standing by the counter�turned into a makeshift bar�talking to Sylvia, and then she�d seen him.

Dylan. Leaning against the wall, talking to Sylvia�s boyfriend, Austin. And he�d seen her too, because their eyes met and he trailed off.

�Lain? Lain! Are you listening to me?� Sylvia asked, frowning at her best friend. �What are you looking at?� She swiveled around, carefully following Lain�s gaze and immediately tensed, just as Austin looked over his shoulder to see what had caused his friend to stop mid-sentence. Lain could barely register any of it. It was as if all the air in the apartment had been sucked out. She was suffocating. Why was he there? She�d missed him so much, and he looked so good, much to her (dis)pleasure. Standing there, staring at him was torture. Pure torture.

�Lain,� Sylvia murmured, whirling around and placing a hand on Lain�s forearm gently. �You look really pale. Are you all right?�

Her words seemed to send a bolt of lightening up Lain�s spine. She jolted, spun around on her heel and clutched the counter to steady herself as she downed the beer she was holding in one gulp and reached across the counter for a bottle of scotch and a glass.

�Lain?� Sylvia inquired, sounding slightly alarmed, but Lain ignored her as she poured a generous helping of the amber liquid into her glass and downed it in one go. She screwed up her face as the alcohol burned the back of her throat on the way down, giving her head a good, thought-scattering shake. And then, without a word, she left the bar and stormed to Sylvia�s bedroom, slamming the door shut behind her.

Sylvia�s bedroom, much like the rest of the apartment had very modern d�cor. Big, plate glass windows formed her entire east and south walls, giving her a spectacular view of the downtown skyline and the morning sunrise. Upon entering the room, Lain made a beeline for the nearest corner and threw her back against the wall, letting her legs slip out from under her as she sank down to the floor and sighed.

�Austin, you were supposed to make sure you guys stayed away from us,� Lain heard Sylvia say outside the door. Of course, Sylvia had been in on it; it was her party, she�d probably invited him. Before Dylan had broken it off with her, the two couples had gone on many double dates, so they were all close friends. �What am I supposed to tell her, Austin? She�s going to be upset.�

�No way!� Lain thought, aggravated. �Give the girl a gold star.� Sighing again, she let her head lean against the glass and stared down at the street below.

Sylvia and Austin had argued outside that door for several more minutes, before Sylvia finally came in to talk. She tried apologizing, but Lain brushed her off. What was she apologizing for? So she�d invited a friend to a party who wasn�t on good terms with Lain. That was Lain�s problem, not hers. And there was nothing for her to explain. Shut down on every front, Sylvia, who still felt �awful,� had insisted that Lain spend the night at her place in the guest bedroom.

And thus, here she was. Staring at the ceiling, bored as hell, waiting for day to break. Which just wouldn�t do for Lain. She hated being bored. And so, she threw back her covers, redressed in her clothes from the night before, thrusting Sylvia�s sleeping shirt on the bed as she exited the room. She scrawled her friend and note, and departed the dark apartment.



It wasn�t hard for Lain to find something to do. As per usual on a Thursday night/Friday morning, the night scene was jumping and the streets downtown were filled with people. Scantily clad women staggered in drunken groups towards the next club, while equally drunken men ogled them as they passed, �whispering� lewd comments loud enough for Lain to hear as she passed. Yes, there was plenty to keep her occupied for a while. In particular, there was one place she wanted to go. A new warehouse had just opened; she�d been dying to check it out. Weaving through the throngs of people gathered out front, she couldn�t suppress a grin when she saw it. Star. She�d heard this place had some of the best paints and brushes available in Enchantment.

Tucked behind Vendetta, one of the most popular clubs in town, Star was like a Mecca for artists. They carried everything from palettes to brushes to oil paints to charcoal to canvases, of all shapes and sizes. And seeing as how it was highly unlikely she�d be getting any sleep that night (morning?), it seemed like the perfect opportunity to buy some materials to paint the sunrise, especially given the view she�d get from Sylvia�s bedroom.

She pushed into the store, sparing one last glance at the entrance to Vendetta, teeming with half-naked women begging the unimposing figure at the door for entry. �Huh,� Lain thought, �you�d think those girls could just run him right over. I wonder if they�ve already tried.� The bell rang above her head as the door swung shut behind her and she took in the store. Shelf after shelf of supplies such as pencils, inking pens, and paintbrushes stood in the middle of the floor, perfectly lined in rows, while baskets filled with bigger knick-knacks hung on the walls. On the wall farthest from the door, canvases and sketchpads swung high above the ground.

Lain sighed contentedly and strolled down the paint aisle, helping herself to a couple tubes of yellow, orange, coral and blue paint, a few brushes, two small canvases, and a palette. Arms loaded, she wondering around the rest of the store, taking it all in. This place really was like Heaven�it had everything! And even better, it was open 24 hours a day due to its location in the part of Enchantment that rarely slept. Stumbling to the counter, Lain dumped her goods in front of the cashier and dug out her wallet.

The cashier regarded her suspiciously, as the old woman reached for her first canvas to ring it up. �Shouldn�t you be asleep now? This is no place for teenagers,� she chided. Lain frowned. This place had been so wonderful, she�d forgotten about Dylan, but the implied reminder about her youthful appearance, indirectly reminded her of Dylan, and now she was back in a frump.

�No!� she snapped. �Because I�m not a teenager.�

�Mm-hmm,� the cashier nodded, slowly, clearly not believe her.

Lain�s temper flared. �I�m sorry, but could you hurry it up. I�m in a rush. I have somewhere I need to be.� �At three in the morning? Right, Lain. Good one,� she chided herself. The woman finished ringing her up. After paying, she grabbed her bag and stomped from the store, fuming. Of course, people thought she�d snuck out. Just because she looked young. And, of course, no one believed her when she said she wasn�t a teenager. They were practically begging her to punch them in the face.

�Hmph.� Clutching her bag to her chest, she pushed through the crowd, again glancing at the fervent mob clawing at the young man guarding the velvet rope. He didn�t look like a bouncer. Not large and scary as she might have expected, especially at Vendetta. But, hmm� She�d never been inside. Delaney had for a private after party once. She had said it looked awesome inside, and the DJs that spun there were the best. Perhaps it was time she paid the club a visit for a couple of hours.

Taking a deep breath, she dove into the pack and shoved her way to the front, getting angry grunts and yells in response. But she ignored them and stopped two behind the bouncer, now finally able to get a good look at him. One look was all she needed to understand why he was a bouncer there. His skin was dark and his face handsome; his powerful, commanding golden-brown eyes surveyed the crazed swarm screaming wildly in front of him. His demeanor was calm and his posture impeccable. He exuded the �I can kick your bum bum� vibe effortlessly. Digging her I.D. out, she stepped up as the other girls passed the velvet rope and headed into the club and presented her I.D., almost tentatively. Tracing his arm with her eyes, she followed it up to his face and met his eyes with her own, daring him to question her.

The strange lad known as Azazel Kane woke up in a hurry, shooting up like a rocket ready for lift off, which was actually ironic, considering he made a strange “Woooooosshhhhroooom” sound as he blasted upward. After a safe landing back on his bum, he came to the realization that he had random fallen asleep again. He never quite enjoyed his sleeping habits, for they were random and spread out. Just yesterday, he was about to journey his teeth into the amazement of a turkey sandwich, when lethargy hit him like a brick in the head. When he awoke, the turkey sandwich was splattered upon his lap.

This incident was to be known forever as the Tired Turkey Tragedy.

A single tear traveled down Azazel’s cheek as he was reminded of his wonderful meal that was not to be. He quickly wiped it away, and stood up. He clenched his fist, for he now knew what must be done. There was no doubting it. He must find, and revive his fallen comrade! He twirled his head for a quick shot towards a nearby clock to see what time it was. Unfortunately, from where he stood no clock was visible. Thus the next five minutes Azazel to spin in circles searching for one. Then it dawned on him. His mouth dropped in disbelief. It was the clocks! That’s who was behind the disappearance of his gobble-gobble buddy! They kidnapped him, or rather turkey-napped him. And it was up to Azazel to make them pay for it!

Of course, any eye witness to the event that was about to occur, would not be aware of the horrible tragedy of clocks kidnapping a turkey sandwich, therefore had all right to get angry at Azazel. However, Azazel knew he had a mission of the utmost importance. And this mission was simple. Run around, find any watch or clock, and destroy it. Now in Azazel’s mind, he was a secret spy from the land of Turkilia, bent on revenge. Expertly sneaking around and assassinating time. However, to everyone else’s eyes he was this deranged young lad running around stealing people’s watches while mumbling random insanity about the great Turkey revolution. To put it plainly the mass population, especially those whose watches were snatched, wasn’t too happy with Azazel.

So there was Azazel, sprinting as fast as he could. Handful of pocket watches, watches, and anything else that ticked. And behind him was a mass of people who were just angry enough to chase after him. Until finally, Azazel turned around the wrong corner, and BAM! Dead end. He slowly turned around to gaze upon the angry faces of his followers. Naturally they had to be allies with the evil clock nation. That much was certain. Azazel had no doubt that the crowd would attempt to retrieve their ticking companion, and go on forth to destroy more tasty turkey lunches. This was something Azazel could not let them do. He had to prevail, to protect all the sandwiches of the future.

He lifted up all the time tellers above his head, gaze upon the crowd and shouted, “You shall not pass!!! Your wicked ticking and destroying of my tasty food will not go unpunished. Though I may perish in this fight tonight, I know I fight for the right side. The side made of mayonnaise, cheese, lettuce, and of course the almighty turkey! “

If I was to say the crowd stood in a state of confusion, that’d be an understatement. In fact, I believe that the crowd achieved a new state of bewilderment, something so befuddled that it can not be defined or explained. Azazel saw their faces; however to him it wasn’t looks of confusion, rather it was a look of understanding. He smiled, “And I know that after tonight, all sandwiches will rejoice when hearing my name. They will shout, All Mighty Azazel, the savior of the flavor!”

After his speech Azazel, resembling a small child stomping on bubble wrap paper, slammed the watches on the ground in front of him, then proceeded to stomp on them in an orderly random manner.

Without any heads-up, a child�s body was suddenly thrown beneath the turkey-grieving fit of vengeance bestowed upon everyone�s timekeepers, his runt-like physique probably enough to make one believe he was in for a beating underneath the sole of this man�s shoe. Nevertheless, on hands and knees, his frame remained above the watches and clocks, taking stomp after stomp into his back, yet never flinching, or hardly moving at all for that matter. Every slam of the foot would feel like a fruitless effort to Azazel, the give of this oddly tough youth equivocating to some attempt at denting solid steel with a rubber mallet.

�It is here, I am certain,� the boy whispered blandly, the hazel eyes beneath his dark green military-like helmet darting back and forth over the pile of busted devices and likewise those who had yet to encounter a similar broken fate. No prior warning once more, the boy�s right hand, gloved in a haughty material like that of a shop worker�s, shot upwards and caught Azazel�s foot and held it in place, his strength just another unprecedented aspect that exceeded what was expected from his appearance. For a moment, the kid tilted his head upwards and met the sandwich avenger�s eyes with an emotionless gaze, matted black hair drooping in his face slightly, simply stating, �Pardon me, this will only take a moment.� Returning to his search, it took only a few more seconds of scanning the ground until the boy found, partially dented, a tarnished silver pocket watch with a similarly-fashioned chain. �Found it. Return to what you were doing.�

And just like that, the boy relinquished control of Azazel�s leg back to its owner, scooting out from underneath his heel and rising up straight once more. Pocketing the pocket watch, the boy turned around to a giant backpack nearby, almost as tall as the 5�4� kid himself, laden with numerous tools on the outside and inside alike, the latter heard more than it was seen when he picked the bag up onto his shoulders. Dressed in threadbare hand-me-downs and bandages, his dirty, unwashed skin made it look like this child was nothing more than a hobo or a sweatshop worker, yet his odd traits in endurance and strength might make the crowd nearby think otherwise.

�Oi, kid, why�d you only get the one? Nab ours, too!� came a disgruntled, raspy voice nearby at the front of the throng of onlookers.

Not to be left out, another complaint rang out, this time a shrill woman�s, �Yeah! You could�ve grabbed �em all no problem! What�s the deal, eh?�

Thus began the piling-on of whiney, nagging lamentations from everyone gathered, all sounding no more like children who were powerless to stop this man themselves. Nonetheless, Cody, the name of this boy, only but shrugged, his expression locked in the same blank, boring stare of before, a look that could have summed up the thoughts going around in his head right now (which ran along the lines of �I do not care�). Even still, something remained frozen in his mind, a replay from a few minutes ago: he�d been walking along the sidewalk, toting along the ridiculously stuffed backpack like nothing, and just aiming to get from point A to point B without any hassle. True, urban backpacking in the wee hours of the morn wasn�t exactly the most orthodox of things to do, but he didn�t anticipate anything problematic from doing so. Yet when Cody went to check the time, a thief dashed by and snatched the silver watch from his hand without cause or concern; truly rude, but nevertheless, the skinny, dirt-caked boy chose not to fret. Rather, he�d follow suit, take the watch back for himself (whether peacefully or by force), and leave the man be once more.

However, in light of realizing this man hadn�t only stolen his, but all the watches of these other people, Cody faced the strangely-motivated man before him and suggested, altogether monotone, �For whatever motives you have, perhaps you could return the watches and clocks to these other people. I am positive they did nothing to spite you intentionally. Though correct me if I am wrong.�

Clouds crested the vast expanse of the morn�s tapestry, threatening no downpour, predawn decent already long past and taken up by root and twig alike, flush with vivacity of life�s passing graces. It was late morn, and sun rode high in the heavens, blessedly taking away the unneeded chills of time afore dawn�s tender paintings, overwhelming dissonant sky of grey half-light, night�s beckoning of drowsy farewell. In these graces, the cool presence of life of another, chirruping of delightful avian orchestral call to rise, beckon the day grow fuller, sharp and long, musical all alike, most pleasant of chatters to greet the worker by, encouraged silence of tongue, expression of emotive elaborations, in the toils of labor befitting one�s heart. Of her desire, cultivating softest of life, coaxing it to bloom, tenderly she moved her fair, callous hands through richest loam of earth, stirring forth pungent and delightful scent of still-wet soil, and the aroma of delicate flowers.

Long strands of deepest claret fell over a chiseled, porcelain face, gently with exhalation of breath, curls of vapor that once rested but moments upon air before melting away within rays of sun no longer a presence of her delight, yet not to be concerned over, not long able to be forgotten. And long here, purest expression of intent, softest joy was set upon so unusually warm a face. Her clothes kept away little of the chill, yet long welcomed the overpowering embrace of suns, grandest figures of light, most glorious and celebrated of those weavers, blessedly encouraging forms, of purest, most exhilarant, life. In eyes, lost upon the world, their intent, such wonders of birth were ne�er plain, but nor did their puzzles flee before her, elusive and clinging to their ambiguity, resolved never to unfold in billowing of selves, till all that remained was the most enamoring of truth. For, verily, her gaze could not see all, yet many queries of this world and the next, of graces and paths long trodden, some lost and dismal for centuries of few passings, still were revealed to her, for long had she sought them, and in life, grew to love them and such a timeless, wondrous pursuit of knowledge, of life, even! Just as the trills of effortless and dainty aviators peaked about her, fulfilling strangest but most essential of desires, in the soft warmth of passing day.

Warmest yellow, purporting fullest delight, leaned gently against soft pink. Most elusive of hues, this blushing figure, swaying near to unrivaled orange in brashness, strong and bursting with pride at its commanding presence. In this, unlike the whispering white, solemn but gracious in its beauty, smiling enigmatically even as it burrowed into the crowd, seeking and delighting in the embrace of their welcome. Even of swirling blue, ever patient, still and outstanding, bringing uniqueness and promise of calm to so rowdy a gathering. And lastly the unusual purple, who closely befriended blue, dragging it further within the gathering of others. A curious and bold being who seemed almost out of place, yet found ever a spot by which to stand, joining those that should verily be opposites in a magnificent harmony unlike any other. These were the reflections of her heart, in the long, trailing garden she had given home and hope for, winding beside laughing brook, bordering its amiable passage, dancing over stones miraculously man-made, so many thousands of years ago and on into the annals of history for such a place as this: Atlanta.

Long had she resided here, moments flying by until the babes unborn she had seen grow into youthful and gaily ambling children, all unique, so unusual, some quite foreign to these parts, yet of them all, she had adopted them as her own, though never did parents seek her, perhaps did not even care for her. But they, these young ones, they so loved her, and she� she could do naught but love them back.

�Vaetriiiiiiiiiiiiiii!�

Lifting her head, the woman adorned in gold and browns, and many other warm strains of metallic colorings, was suddenly thrown into clearer light of day, long bangs of hair falling about her face, deftly pushed aside by dirt-marred a hand, though she seemed not to mind. Fair skin was illuminated and shone softly within this pleasantness of daylight, and in such a countenance, frighteningly white eyes settled upon the source of the voice, almost enough to frighten the child if not for the warm, loving smile that eased away the harshness of such a familiar countenance and almost bid her eyes close with the sense of deepest happiness as overwhelmed her at sight and sound of those who so clumsily but effectively grasped her heart. Before she rose, she wiped her hands lightly on her deep brown pants, loam barely even perceptible on them, yet her rising was interrupted by that of several forms, all of them nearly half her size, rushing to embrace her. One threw himself into her lap, another hugging arms around neck from behind, others tugging at her hand, one just laying their palm on her shoulder. And before any else a thing should come to pass, she burst into laughter at their affections and they but beamed at her with that child-like, purest glee.

�You are all up and about quite early,� she noted bemusedly, affectionately stroking the slate-hued locks of Ahendru�s hair as the boy sat quite contently in her lap, hugging her midsection with his lanky arms and grinning up at her. All the others bore similar expressions, from Emiri and Santen, Lyconian twins, one bouncing on the balls of her heels just off to the side, hands clasped tightly behind her back just beneath her wings, silver-blue hair falling into her face as she bit her lower lip in an attempt to contain her excitement, whilst her brother Santen stood at Vatrix�s left, hand gently resting on her shoulder in his own way of expressing how he felt towards the enigmatic woman they had once feared, eventually grew to love. Renata, a human girl in her usual overalls and the straps of her rollerblades hung about her neck as she knelt on the cobblestone path just like Vatrix was beaming up at her and soon began giggling profusely in response. And Djarvn, the shy but happy youth who could summon aid in the form of draconian spirits stood shuffling his feet beside the floating form of Sube, the little air mermaid with deep orange locks of stringy hair that matched her bottom half, legs tainted in the same hue and only remaining human until she lifted one and the shimmer of scales could be seen creeping forward to overtake her human appearance.

�We were excited to see you!� Sube shouted, throwing up her arms into the air while Djarvn nodded his head shyly, a faint hue of red tinting his cheeks. As Renata reached out to lay her hands on Vatrix�s knee, cutting to the chase, Ahendru turned round and stuck out his tongue at the bouncing Emiri, the angelic girl huffing and her feathers ruffling in clear irritation at his victorious and teasing gesture. �We wanted to play a game with you before supper!� Immediately the others broke out into shouts, arguing with one another about what game was better, whether to play Tag or Hide-and-Seek, or have races, or play team games, and Vatrix merely laughed, gently placing Ahendru onto his feet and rising up to her own as she had planned before they�d stopped her. With a genial smile, she bent forward as Santen pointed a finger at her and declared that she should choose. �Want to play Swabbay?� she asked, a shimmer of delight fleeting over her eyes. As suddenly as she�d offered, the children broke into excited shouts of approval, and as Vatrix placed her hand in palm down in the air, the other children grasped onto it as was ritual. �One,� the woman began slowly, seeing their eagerness. �Two� three� Swabbay!� As she shouted the name all the children threw up their arms as she did and suddenly a burst of light engulfed each of them in a different color, while the woman was lost in purest white.

Twisting away from the children, swiftly eager whispers of delight took a form their own, and in her motion, there was lost all humanity as one they�d perceived, for silver-white in form, now burst away from their congregation a small creature who needed no earth upon which to race. Several ribbons with metal shapes attached to their ends whipped out behind the feline being as it left a trailing aura that glimmered and sparkled behind it, racing away to who knew what destination, and the six children each took after it, leaving behind their own, verily writing a rainbow of delight upon the air, left shining with each their own hue as they passed, Emiri and Santen taking to flight, one of blue, the other of gold. Sube, the mermaid, leapt into the air, passionate orange tossed behind her as tail formed and she swam upon naught by sky after the fleeing feline. Ahendru laughed with elation at the challenge and swiftly his robotic lower half shifted to allow him to rocket forward, tailing the same goal: one of the ribbons and its many dangling shapes, throwing behind him a trail of worthy green. Djarvn smiled and whispered an incantation before rising from earth came a small but large enough winged lizard upon which soon he mounted to partake in the chase, and red was his color. The last, Renata, took but a moment to shove on her rollerblades, and without needing encouragement, swiftly activated the technological masterpieces that defied gravity and gave her a boost of speed as she took after their oldest playmate, the Lady Vatrix, and left behind a vivid purple in her pursuit.

Not until every ribbon was caught did the game end, and each child found that the pieces which they had chased were in fact parts of a small puzzle by which the peculiar woman had wished them to continue playing together. It was a pretty puzzle, using holographs to portray distant lands and charming scenes that entertained the children for hours. But after she had rested with them for a time upon a gentle hillock, soon the sound of hooves caught their ears and into view cantered a handsome centaur who they knew by the name of Kuutsku. He was the children�s teacher, and clearly, though he did not approve of Vatrix�s presence, could not deter his pupils from engaging with her in play. Nevertheless, he looked down disapprovingly on them until Vatrix rose to her feet, bowing in apology.

�I don�t want your request for forgiveness, Vaetrii,� he said, waving a hand dismissively and beckoning the children come with him. �It is no use, and I have long ago decided that it is also not your fault. However, the children must return to their parents now.�

�I understand, Kuutsku,� she said and gently embraced each child, though they were clearly loathe to leave. Softly the woman smiled and knelt down with them, looking to each. �I have taught you that your parents are the most important things in your life, have I not little ones?� As they murmured their agreement, she laughed softly. �Then return to them, and do not be sad that we are parting. No goodbye can last forever.� Warmly she gathered them all into her arms, and they clung to her, suddenly sensing that there was more to this than they�d first suspected. �Vaetrii?� Djarvn ventured to ask, warm golden eyes seeking her face. �Why are you going away?�

She smiled and kissed his forehead, stroking his hair as the others seemed to look on with mingled sadness and confusion, hope still piercing their eyes that she would change her mind. Slowly getting to her feet, she looked to the dipping sun, and past it, into the sky who was still veiled by the blue of the many seas of Atlanta�s grand earth. �I hear someone calling,� she said, as though herself curious about the very thought. But then she smiled to them and moved away from their arms, and as Kuutsku swiftly asked them to follow him to their respective homes, she seemed almost to melt away into the waning day, leaving at last the home by which she�d long remained in wondrous peace, into what semblance of waking day, she knew not. She would go where the winds beyond each world took her.

OOC:

The sweldering heat of the forge and anvil and crafting set Raxodas Le'Tahr's lungs on fire. Though he was used to this heat, certain days simply put him into anguish and beat him worse than the kids who used to bully him when he was seven. He could feel the impact of the shock with each pounding slam he put into the metal beneath his hammer travel up his arm and reverberate along his shoulder. The sweat on his face stung his eyes cruelly and he found himself ocassionally trying to shoulder the beads away, only to smudge ashes into his eyes, therefore making it worse. It made him bare his teeth now and then, and he kept them clamped shut to avoid inhaling too much of the tainted air.

Raxodas appreciated the pay of his job, though it hardly kept food on the table for himself personally. Thankfully, he was the only one who lived with him, but he sometimes desired to have a little boy and a wife to be with. Lack of his past heightened his desires for a mate to confide in and with, and there was his trouble.

The one and maybe only thing that saved the man from blasphemous insanity was his incredible ability to craft superior quality steel weapons. His hands were firm and calloused, but with glorifying justification. His best works had been sold to a crafty young lad who claimed that he travelled around the planet in search of great treasures to give to his poor country, which Raxodas did have no knowledge of. He had a feeling the boy bluffed, but his offering of price was unable to be beaten and that was what convinced him he was a liar. With reluctance, Raxodas sold those pieces of work to the boy, earning himself a load of money he would later end up wasting at a local bar, paying for drinks, games, food, sleep, and the ocassional "willing lady" to do his pleasings and satisfy his lonliness. He regretted that the instant he found out one of the women had gotten pregnant and 'dishonerably discharged' the child for the sake of her disgusting job. That was the year he quit paying for them. The thoughts of him becoming a father to a bastard born of a motherless woman was disturbing.

Since his money disappeared that doubtful year - which was a year ago to be exact - he quit selling his work and instead kept them for his own bidding. That was hard enough with all his needs outside his work. Every day, he caught himself staring at a young lass who treaded the streets like a busy woman would do. She was a fiery red headed girl and she was stunning. Raxodas usually stopped his work in spite of his better judgement to stare at her. Eventually it would get him in trouble, but he couldn't help but be attracted.

It almost disgusted him. He thought about girls every day and night, but he understood it may be because of his age in comparison with his sad social life-

"Dammit, Rax the steel is getting cold!" He was slapped in the face, by the rough voice of one of the men who worked with him, back into reality. Raxodas' hand lowered the hammer forcefully to the steel once more and he coughed. Fantasizing... one thing he'd never mastered in multi-tasking. But perhaps if he saw her again today, he would say hello for once.

The strange boy caught Azazel a bit off guard. He was quite sturdy for such a youngin'. Perhaps he works out, maybe at that new gym that opened up not too far from the pizza shop. Azazel always wanted to go into there, but never quite made it past the large sign that said "Buy One Large, Get Another Half Priced!" Azazel's mouth watered as the image of pizza ran through his mind like an Olympic sprinter delivery boy. Anyways, the boy confused Azazel quite q bit. Who on Enchantment would jump on the ground with the evil tick-tockers? As far as Azazel was aware of, the clock nation didn't have any friends, or maybe they Azazel put on his thinking face. A face that can be only described as a mixture of extreme constipation and diarrhea.

As far as he understood, the only reason why someone would jump beneath his feet, would be if that person was allies with the ticking. However, the clocks were without allies, therefore the only rational explanation would be that the person had to be a clock as well.

That was it!

The boy had to be a secret undercover clock! Perhaps he grow tired of his wicked ticked ways and wanted to repent for his timely sins, thus jumping beneath Azazel's feet. Aha! It was so clear now. Azazel glanced over at the boy, the angry faces of the crowd yelling at him was proof. He was a clock.

The boy turned to him, "For whatever motives you have, perhaps you could return the watches and clocks to these other people. I am positive they did nothing to spite you intentionally. Though correct me if I am wrong."

Azazel paid no attention to what he was saying. Hogwash, jibber jabber, yakity yak with this and that. Without hesitation he ran up to the boy, and put his ear upon the boy's forehead.

Silence.

There was no ticking. How could a clock not tick. Unless, of course. Azazel clapped his hands and smiled. Azazel broke his inner clock and freed the young lad. He patted the boy on the head and walked to the crowd, "No worries my dear friends. I have saved this boy. And the clock nation can do no more further harm. No need to thank me, it was only my duty." He bowed as though he just finished playing Mozart. The crowd crept towards the pieces of watches. Some faces turned to smiles, some grew more angry.

Azazel's best guess were the happy ones, were glad to see the tick tockers death. The angry ones were upset of the devastation they did unto the turkey sandwiches of the past. All in all, Azazel's turkey mission had ended as a success. Afterwards he quickly turned toward the boy, "So, my young newly freed friend. Do you work out by the yummy pizza place, or am I just stomach with my thinking again?"

Two piles of paperbacks, one growing the other shrinking, a chair, and one naked bulb was all the apartment had. It was all that Author wanted for now. He didn't need to sleep, didn't need to eat or drink, and his free time was consumed with searching for Samuel, which he was doing now.

He picked up a book from the dwindling pile and flipped it open. Five minutes later he tossed it haphazardly into the big pile. "No," he muttered. A peculiar thing had anyone seen, considering his face was without even the slightest trace of one. He picked up another book, scanned the author's name, and opened it. Two minutes later it joined the others. "Trash."

He continued for a while, commenting on each rejection. Unnecessary prologue, slow, vapid, was this written by a "special" kid, and more. After twenty minutes there was one pile of books tossed in the corner.

Author leaned back in his chair and sighed. "The styles aren't even close to his. The characters are dull, boring, lifeless. He may change his name when coming to a new world, but his style never does." He massaged the blank space of his face. "Too much of the doldrums. I need to see some life. Heading out now, don't wait up," he said to no one in particular.

If there had been anyone in the room besides him, they might notice Author slowly fading away. And then he was gone.

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

The music pounded in Vendetta and the darkness hid Author as he phased back into the physical plane in one of the darkest corners. Wouldn't do for someone to notice him just appearing out of nowhere.

Before he moved his left and right hand moved slightly up before digging into space, vanishing up to the forearms in the small portal he had made. He extracted a small flesh-colored ball and a wad of bills totaling a little over $100.

He closed the portal and pressed the ball to his non-face before letting it do its thing. The material rippled and spread over the blank space, contours and ridges appearing as the hi-tech mask formed eyes, nose, mouth, and everything else you'd see on a face. Two seconds after activating, Author had his public mask, undetectable by anything.

"Testing, testing," he whispered. The mask's mouth mimicked his words, completing the illusion. He nodded and stuffed the bills in his pocket. Physical objects weren't able to be transported via phasing, they had to be retrieved once he'd reached his destination. It was an inconvenience, but nothing more.

"Right, let's blend with the crowd and get the taste of Mary Sue out of my mouth. Hi-ho, hi-ho, it's off to the booze I go." He strode forward into the sea of bodies and vanished.