View Full Version : Armania: Revival

Scarlet Weather
April 21st, 2008, 1:01 PM
Yeah, I was going over some of my old posts and found this RP which I let die for reasons I've forgotten by now. *shot'ed* So in order to rectify the situation, I'm resuscitating it with the power of science, and adding a little more substance to things I've missed. Here goes...


Many years ago, the land of Aramani was a succesful country, and a world superpower. This, however, was before it was forced to fight a series of costly wars, and hire mercenaries in order to supplement its flagging armed forces. With the help of these mercenaries, the war was won- however, the country no longer had the money necessary to pay the soldiers they had hired. Angered, the mercenaries took over and stormed the treasury, only to find that it was empty. With nowhere to go and no possesions to speak of, most eventually decided to remain in Aramani and seek work there. This, however, became the country's undoing. With a rise in population and an empty treasury, they had no way of supporting themselves, and were forced to raise taxes. With the burden of such a heavy tax, many businesses folded and thousands became unemployed, and with no way to find work. That was when the crime wave began- within the space of a few years, Aramani went from economic paradise to dunghill. With no way to keep criminals in check, the government began to despair- that is, until the police arrived. Headed by a mercenary leader, the new police force promised to restore order to Aramani, of a sort, within a year. With the government's consent, they immediately began a campaign to bring in freelance workers, known as bounty hunters, in order to track down criminals. The bounty hunters were paid an amount equivalent to a criminal's "rank" which was based on a point system developed by the police's former mercenary chief. Additionally, bounty hunters had their own rank raised for every criminal they caught- the higher your rank, the more you were allowed to do in order to track down a criminal. The job only required a quick physical and a quick demonstration of talent, and became so popular that former criminals began looking for it. And to make things easier, bounty hunters were hired out to areas with similar problems, for a nominal fee of course. Within a few years, the government treasury had been replenished, the police force was the highest organization in the country next to the council of officials, and the police force relied on bounty hunters to take care of their dirty work.

However, a new threat to the land has appeared- a mysterious criminal calling himself DL has issued an ultimatum- either the country surrender itself to him, or he will plunge it into a war that will destroy it. It isn't an empty threat, either- besides being a suspected head of the criminal organization "Russian Roulette", he has captured the plans for the country's defense, and is threatening to sell them to another nation, Plunging Aramani into war once again. Angered and concerned, the country has offered an enormous bounty for the head of this man, and amnesty for any criminal who captures him. You are a bounty hunter, and have just received word of this- are you ready to take the challenge?

Info about Aramani:

Technology, government system, and general info: Aramani is a sort of city-country- it's basically a gigantic city with a few farms in between districts. The city is referred to simply as "the metropolis", while farm areas are referred to as "chow makers". There are several "crime district" areas, where the police never go- these are usually home to either lawbreakers or bounty hunters. Aramani is governed by both a president and a traditional "Council of Elders", both of which are elected by the people. These two branches must be in agreement in order for any law to be passed. Currently, the country is in the hands of the police force, however, as both the elders and president will listen to anything the chief says, effectively making him the most powerful man in Aramani. Aramani's technology is a bit strange- in terms of communications and transport, they are above Earth-Level, but due to the fact that gunpowder was never discovered, the weapons are a bit archaic. Common weapons include air guns, swords, and blunt objects and knives of various varieties. Due to the number of mercenaries hired during the war, Aramani has quite a few cultures within it.

Races: Being on a planet and universe far from Earth, there are a few alien species living in the world of our roleplay. Let's take a look.

Armania: A long-lived race that is said to be the first one to emerge on this planet, the Armania resemble humans in all respects but one: all Armania have silver hair, though some have taken to dying it in recent years, and a pair of small, silver horns jutting from their forehead. Armania are possessed of incredible longevity- in fifty years, they only age twenty. The Armania are known for being a people that has a tendency towards eccentricity and laziness- they mature emotionally and mentally at about the same rate as they age, and tend to overlook the obvious in favor of their fantasies.

Garagana: From the land of Gargar in the north, these people are bizarre mixes of human and beast. Or rather, that's what humans call them. The Garagana are actually a group of loosely united tribes, each possessing the features of some sort of animal. Some human scientists have theorized that the Garagana were created when humans attempted experimentation meant to increase their fighting potential, but evolved into an offshoot race and killed their creators, destroying all information relating to their creation. The Garagana, on the other hand, maintain that their bestial forms are gifts from their patron deities, the Tribal Spirits, which they look to for guidance. Known for strength and healing ability, this race is usually the most unaccepted in normal society due to their highly-strung tempers and tribal religions and rituals.

Hiratana: From Hirata in the south, these people are human, but live in a society based around discipline and the martial arts. The wreckage of what appears to be a starship was found years ago, just outside a Hiratana village, which suggests that they emigrated from some distant world. Whether this is the truth or not, no one is sure, though the Hiratana maintain that they too are natives of this world and have stated that the wreckage isn't nearly old enough to be a ship that brought their people to the planet. Hiratana are known to be technologically adept, moreso than either of the other "races", and seem to have an affinity towards conquering others. These people, along with the Armania, are the dominant members of society.

Chi: Let's talk about special powers! The basics- chi is life energy, which every living being is born with, and which grows stronger with age- the longer you live, the more life energy you gather, hence, the more available chi you have. Life energy is gathered at the approximate rate at which you age, meaning that Garagana and humans gather it more quickly than most Armania, though there are a scant few exceptions. Chi can be replenished simply by resting and eating, or by using an external means such as water from the sacred springs in Hirata, which replenishes it almost instantly. The use of chi cannot be classically taught, as each person's chi manifests itself differently, within one of several broad disciplines. The use of chi is based mostly on discipline- the more you can control your mind, the more you can do with your chi. Chi users usually learn control by meditating until they can summon their chi "aura"- an outward manifestation of their energy. When this is accomplished, they begin experimenting with its use until they can fully manifest it and use it as naturally as they would their body. The uses of individual chi techniques are limited only by the imagination and chi type of the user. Each chi class needs a necessary inborn trait to be within the user from birth in order for them to effectively use that type of chi. Now, on to the disciplines.

Materialization/Manipulation: This class of chi user is able to transform their chi into a solid object or being of some sort, then control it. This class of chi user usually has the least available energy, but the best control. If the object is destroyed, the person who materialized it temporarily has their available chi reduced to nothing, leaving them just enough to stay alive. Armania are usually of this class, although Hiratana have been known to use it as well. For some reason, Garagana have never been able to use this ability, it is suspected that this is because they lack the necessary inborn imagination needed to make their aura into a complex solid object. The necessary trait for this discipline is "Imagination"- without a vivid imagination, the user cannot form a vivid enough image of their chi weapon or object to make it solid.

Regeneration/Reinforcement: These chi users cannot manipulate or launch chi outside of their body, but they can use it to accelerate their own healing process and augment their strength. Most Garagana are of this type, along with a fair number of Hiratana- however, no Armania are able to use this ability, supposedly because they lack the inborn focus needed to use this technique. The necessary trait of this ability is "Focus"- without it, the chi user would be unable to circulate their chi throughout their body effectively.

Barrier: These chi users materialize their chi as a barrier or wall of some sort- be it a stone barrier, a glowing shield, or a wall of flames. Barrier users can also use their barriers to attack by "Rushing" the enemy with them. All races share this form of chi use evenly. The necessary trait for a barrier user is "Determination". Without enough willpower and refusal to give in, their barrier would crumble. They are usually more stubborn then angry.

Destructive: DBZ, anyone? Destruction users can launch their chi as a powerful, destructive burst. This class generally has the most available chi, but the least control. This trait is evenly spread as well, but has fewer users then the Barrier class. Destructive chi requires two qualities-"Determination" and "Rage". "Rage", as it is called, is a name given to a berserk anger that all Destructive users are prone to. Though rare, occasionally a barrier-type chi user will become a destructive user if his anger escalates to the point where he cannot control it.

It should be noted that even though chi users have a specific personality trait that determines their use, that trait is not always life-dominating: Rather, it is simply the most dominant aspect of their personality. (Let me clarify- not all Materialization users spend their lives in a waking dream, but all materialization users are creative and somewhat imaginative.)

Explanations of criminal rank: This ranking system is used to determine the bounty of a criminal.

E Rank: 1-50 points. The basic pickpocket or Dine N' Dash crooks falls into this category. Not worth much.

D Rank: 50-500 points. Now we're moving up in the world. These crooks range from house burglars to low-rank mob people. Not exactly easy to get along with. Worth a fair amount of money.

C Rank: 500-1500 points: Whoah, now we're talkin'! These guys are definitely considered fairly dangerous, and include murderers, gang members, etc. Worth enough money to make a car payment.

B Rank: 1500-5000 points. Most multiple-killers fall into the B-Rank category, and they're worth quite a bit of money- probably enough to pay the bills for a few months, at least, presuming that you haven't been living extravagantly.

A Rank: 5000-10000: A-Rank is reserved for criminals who are considered extremely dangerous, even by professional standards. It has less to do with the crimes commited than it does the danger involved with the capture. Most criminals with a background in combat through chi are placed in this category, and a fair number of "big wheel" mob members are up there too, not so much because of their combat experience but because they are guarded by underlings. Most A-Ranks are worth enough that you can pay off your house or car if you take one down, and the bounty maxes out at half a million.

S Rank: 10000-15000: Only S-Ranked bounty hunters are allowed to pursue these with government consent. All S-Ranked criminals can use chi formidably, and are considered a serious threat to society. If you can take one down and bring him in, he's worth enough money to buy your house, car, a fine night out, and a big screen TV, with enough left over to live off of for a month- maxing out at three million credits.

Star Rank: 15000+. Star Rank criminals- the most despicable beings on Earth. Only one is currently known- DL has been elevated to this status officially by police. The bounty for a star-ranker is upwards of six million credits.

And Finally, a blurb on phones:

Every bounty hunter has a cell phone issued to them which contains access to a file on all criminals with a bounty currently offered. The phone has text and picture capability, and rings when a criminal with a substantial bounty appears on the scene. The criminal file contains information including appearance, bounty offered, and a list of crimes, past and recent, as well as information on the weapons and tactics of the person mentioned.

It should also be noted that all bounty hunters are at least proficient in some form of martial art, or in the use of one or more types of weapons.


1. Normal rp rules- this includes no god-modding, powerplaying, etc.

2. No "bunnying" without permission of the other user, and notifying me.

3. My word is law. I say what goes, not you. In other words, no mini-modding OR mini-running the rp. Unless your name happens to have the word "Moderator" beside it, and you have a specific reason for doing so.

4. I want at least six lines in your rp post unless you can say everything you need to in less, and proper grammar. If you can't do this, run the post through a spellcheck on a word processor or something. I want understandable posts.

5. If you have a concern, notify me. I want to hear you.

6. If you enter into a fight with another character, you must use proper "fighting etiquette". This means ending your post with an attack being launched instead of making it contact immediately, especially if said attack could do major damage if it contacts. Likewise, you are not allowed to avoid attacks indefinitely. You and the other player must decide on a winner over PM system before fifteen posts, or I will cut in and decided for you. If the fight is really cool though, I may allow you to extend it for a few extra if you want.

7. Character death is not permitted without my consent, unless the character is your own.

8. If your character dies but you want to rejoin, PM me a sign-up for another character and I'll see if I can fit you in.

9. Romance is fine, but no hentai please.

10. If you screw up in the roleplay too often, I will summon the power of the Cruel Angel of Thesis and kick you out of the RP for good. Your character will die an embarassing death.

11. I reserve the right to refuse you because I don't like you. (.0000000000001 percent chance of this occuring.)

12. And finally, you may manipulate NPCs as long as they aren't connected with the police station ('cause only I can do that), or you aren't using them instead of your main character in the posts. If you do that, I want a new sign-up.

Sign-Up sheet.

Full name: (Can be from any Earth culture, cannot be an anime ripoff.)

Age: (As long as you're above sixteen or its Armanian equivalent, you should be Okay.)

Personality: (most important category- six lines, please, unless you can say everything you need to in less. No Mary Sues/Gary Stus. They will be shot on sight.)

Gender: (It's either one or the other people.)

Race: (No cliche Gargar unless you can do them well, please.)

Appearance: (Pics are fine, remember that your character is a bounty hunter, and is probably a bit eccentric. Do a good job of describing him.)

Rank: (E-S, and make it logical- S Class bounty hunters are obviously more experienced and older then E Class.)

Criminal Rank (If former criminal): (If your character was a crook at some point, give his rank here. Remember, his age has to be logical- he has to be old enough to commit the crimes he got his rank for, and then wait until he has either served his sentence or waited until the statute of limitations on his crime ran out. You should also give us a list of past offenses here.)

History: (Standard four lines, and feel free to keep part of your character's history under wraps and reveal it throughout the rp. If the rest of your sign-up looks good, you can skip this category altogether. Remember to update this section as your character's history is revealed, though.)

Chi Class: (Choose from the above.)

Abilities: (Give a sampling of what your character can do. If he has specific attacks, list them here and explain them in detail. Be logical- an E Class bounty hunter will probably not be able to use attacks of the same caliber as a B Class would. Feel free to add new attacks as the rp progresses, just give them some logic. Feel free to leave blank and update as needed if your sign-up is Okay without 'em.)

Rp Sample: (Show your stuff! I'll only ask for one if I really need it, but if you are weak in other areas, a good rp sample is a great way to change my mind.)

April 21st, 2008, 3:35 PM
I'd like to reserve, but I need a bit of clarification.

What sort of weapons would an S-Rank use? Cuz thats what I'm going for. I need to learn how to RP as older people...

Two: What sort of clothes do you want?
Three: Is Chi elemental, or just generic DBZ super special awesome energy?

That is probably all. Interesting RPG... never seen one quite like this before. Great premise, Thesis.

Scarlet Weather
April 21st, 2008, 4:30 PM
I'd like to reserve, but I need a bit of clarification.

What sort of weapons would an S-Rank use? Cuz thats what I'm going for. I need to learn how to RP as older people...

Two: What sort of clothes do you want?
Three: Is Chi elemental, or just generic DBZ super special awesome energy?

That is probably all. Interesting RPG... never seen one quite like this before. Great premise, Thesis.

Well, weapons really vary more individual by individual than they do by rank. An S-Rank bounty hunter would be using whatever weapons they wanted and could afford, I'd presume.

As for your second question, clothing is up to you. The Metropolis is an ethnic and cultural hodge-podge, and some bounty hunters are more than a little eccentric, so you can wear anything from cowboy boots to modern-day-clothing to a yukata. Not really a problem, yah?

As for chi, the specific chi abilities vary by the user, and the concept is extremely similar to Nen from HunterxHunter, so I'd suggest looking that up if you wanted a better understanding of it. Some users, like destruction and barrier, can transmute their chi into solid objects of a limited variety or into pure energy, but other users just bolster their body with it or transform it into a specific object of some kind. So really, it varies user to user, but it has to fall into one of the four main disciplines.

Sweet Dreams
April 21st, 2008, 4:42 PM
((Ooc: Can I be younger for a C-level? And if anything about my history bothers you, like the whole priestess thing {which is based on religion – most people assume that gods and deities only speak with several, holy people} or anything else in my sign-up, I’ll gladly change it. This sounds interesting. Oh, and can you double as a criminal?))

Full name: Larika (Kay) Acabado

Age: 27

Personality: Kay was always determined to prove herself, mainly because of all the times she had been teased and laughed at because she was not only a Garagana, whose people believed in deities and destinies, but she was also a woman. A woman, no less, that didn’t really look like one at all. Her personality was split, depending upon her emotions. When nobody was bothering her, she was cool, calm, and if not exactly calculating, she was cautious. However, once she gets fired up, she struggles with the instincts of the large feline to get rid of the annoying fly that dared to defy her. The sad truth was that she got fired up extremely easily, and a small, meaningless comment could be transformed in her mind instantly into a harsh sneer.

She always became extremely defensive and stubborn when she felt like she was attacked, not listening to a word the so-called “attacker” said until it was too late and she had caused a scene. She became even more agitated once she entered the metropolis, knowing that most of the police who approved bounty hunters looked askance at her race, and most didn’t believe a woman could make it as an E-level, let alone to a C-level hunter.

However, she did have a few good points about her. For example, she never held a grudge – what kind of animal did? Although her human mind never forgot the incidents, they didn’t really seem all that important in hindsight, and what had passed, had passed, and ripping them into pieces the next time they met wouldn’t change anything except become a C-rank criminal instead of a bounty hunter. Also, when faced with a problem, she would find a solution and carry it through without a fuss. She knew what had to be done, and if she had to be the one to do it, then she would do it to the best of her abilities without complaint. The best thing was that nobody had to keep much of an eye on her when she was doing it, for she didn’t get sidetracked easily. She never lost her focus, it just changed from time to time when she didn’t need it.

Gender: Female

Race: Garagana

Appearance: The most prominent feature of Kay was the obvious cheetah DNA imbedded within her. Covering her body was a layer of golden and black fur, although places like her face, hands and feet were more sparsely covered. She was underdeveloped in the way of a narrow waist and breasts, and could often be mistaken for a male if she averted her face. All four of her limbs were formed to be slightly more cat-like than usual along with slightly stubby fingers and retractable claws. Like a cheetah, when she ran on all fours; her spine would show itself to be quite springy and her speed surpassed that of a trained athlete.

As for her head, her nose was dark brown and both smaller and flatter than was normal. Kay had incredibly thin lips, from which protruded two gleaming fangs, and wide, yellow eyes with slits for pupils, accompanied by pointed ears that were fixed higher up her head than most were used to. This meant that her night-vision, hearing and smell were much keener than any of the other races. Her hair was the same, sandy yellow as the fur that covered her body, although no traces of black were visible, and reached her upper back. Last, but certainly not least, several thin whiskers sprouted from her cheeks close to her nose, much like the thin, spotted tail that sprouted from her tailbone.

To allow for movement and constant change from being on all fours to standing on two feet, all her clothes were loose and sturdy. Her reddish-brown shirt used to have sleeves, but they were ripped off, seeing as they would be a nuisance if she kept them on. Creamy-tan trousers were donned, although she preferred to run barefoot. Whenever she needed to travel through the city, however, she threw a rich, earthy brown, hooded cloak over her outfit, which managed to cover almost every part of her body. If she kept her head down and nobody looked too closely, she could be mistaken for some kind of human.

Rank: C

Criminal Rank (If former criminal): E – pickpocket, charged for assault. Charges were dropped for lack of proof, however, and she only had to spend a fortnight in a minimum security prison.

History: Growing up in Gargar, she believed in the ancient deities fiercely – especially her tribe’s patron, a big cat, and nothing anybody else said could change that. Her mother became one of the holy priestesses of the clan, and was rarely allowed to talk to others of the clan except during ceremonies, let alone seek people out and mingle. This was after Kay’s father entered the metropolis himself, and ended up killing five people before a bounty hunter caught him and locked him away. When he was released, he disappeared off the face of the earth. So, at eleven years old, she was left without either mother, or father. Rather than let the clan foster her to another, she decided to explore and see what other options were available. Several painful incidents followed as she revealed this to everybody.

Finally, at seventeen, she became an E-ranked bounty hunter after living in the large city for three years.

Chi Class: Regeneration/Reinforcement

Abilities: Self-regeneration – speeding up the process of natural healing; Channelling – the ability to heal others as long as both parties involved have an open wound; Reserve – the ability to store away unused energy or chi for further use later on; Reversal – can transform her own chi into raw energy or vice-versa.

Other: Kay is adept at using multiple daggers, and although she is also quite adept at using swords, she preferred just to use several blades – one in each hand – to do battle with an opponent. Her least favourite weapon was the air-gun. The mechanical weapon was heavy and alien in her hands.

RP Sample: (If asked for)

Scarlet Weather
April 21st, 2008, 5:16 PM

Well, I like it. Only two things that I have to point out and be finicky about, the first being that if Kay's mother were an owl it would kind of be impossible for her to not be part owl as well, so you may want to fix that. Also, I kind of intended the Garagana to be more like a series of tribes that allied with each other, each one having a different animal "patron", and intended for them to consider their appearance as "complete" (no Garagana would call themselves "bestial", because they consider themselves not to be a mix between human and beast but to be both at the same time, completely human, completely beast). But I like your character's personality as is, and I think she'll fit in quite nicely. Just edit the owl bit and you're ACCEPTEDORZ.

Sweet Dreams
April 21st, 2008, 5:23 PM
Wait, so I get the owl part, and the patron part... But I've had a look over it and could not find anywhere that said she called herself bestial. If you mean the reason why she covered herself in a cloak, that's just to avoid attention and everything...

And wait, so are there priestesses or should I change that part as well?

Scarlet Weather
April 21st, 2008, 5:45 PM
Wait, so I get the owl part, and the patron part... But I've had a look over it and could not find anywhere that said she called herself bestial. If you mean the reason why she covered herself in a cloak, that's just to avoid attention and everything...

And wait, so are there priestesses or should I change that part as well?

For the first, I suppose it was me identifying the tone of your writing about Kay than Kay herself that made me think I needed to throw that out (that and I forgot to state that in the first place when I wrote up the plot XD), so no need to worry about that. I think I mostly said it because I had this image of Garagana being kind of proud of their appearance, and therefore feeling no need to hide it from anyone even if it does attract attention, but there's no reason why one individual Garagana might feel more like keeping herself to herself. As to the second, I don't think it would be too out-of-place for a specific Garagana tribe to have priestesses to their patron spirit, so no, I don't think that's too out of place.

Sweet Dreams
April 22nd, 2008, 2:25 AM
Okay then, I've finished tweaking those little bits. I can't wait for more people to sign-up and join and for this to start.

April 22nd, 2008, 3:51 PM
You made. A new RP. And didn't tell me?! I'm hurt. Very hurt. This is my reservation for your wonderful RP

Sign-Up sheet.

Full name: Reeth Heirman (pronounced Air-Man) "The Beast of Hampshire"

Age: 21

Personality: He iz real strong, strongest of them all becuz his parentz died when he was kid. and killz people but makez friends ez.
Quite the character when it comes down to it, Reeth isn't the hardened bounty hunter that one would expect to have been formed from dealing with lowlifes on a daily basis. He is quite the philosopher when outside of the battle scene. He can often be found at a local pub, sitting in a corner table and reading notable psychological and philosophical literature. As a gargar, his species is quite often obviously frowned upon, usually being cocnsidered mindless beasts. Because of this mentality and association he received merely because of his looks, he abandoned his loose pack mentality and much prefers the solitude of his travels. He always speaks with a calm and educated tone of voice, never allowing his emotions to get the best of him on either end of the spectrum. He could almost be seen as heartless in the way he greets every new situation without so much as batting an eye of indifference. One would think his mindset that he acquired over his travels would hinder his ability to perform his duties adequately. This assumption is quite untrue though. Reeth is a fierce tactician and lethally accurate in all of his calculations. He is a firm believer and supporter of having a mission completely in check with his plans laid out step by step with multiple fall back plans in case something goes wrong. He is a man who hesitates only to educate his foe on his misdeeds before exacting judgment upon them.

Gender: Male

Race: Gargar Wolf/human mix

Appearance: Reeth always keeps his looks in check, being sure there is no mistaking his person. He has a mop top of silky soft gray hair which whittles down his head, stopping just at his neck in the back and drooping halfway over his eyes in the front. From a distance, he would even be mistook an old man. On the top of his head, sticking up from the high angles of his head, just outside of the center spiral of his hair, lay two droopy dark gray wolf ears. The ears usually retain the floppy state unless something in the area disturbs Reeth or he is trying to hear something a great distance away. Underneath the shade of his mop top hair lays his thoughtful and youthful face. He has dull grayed eyes which attribute to his general mis-perception of appearing like an old man without looking closely. He has a small button-like brown dog's nose that sits in the center of his face just above him mouth which is usually cocked to the side in a small grin, exposing his over sized and rather sharp canines that hang over his bottom lip, whether he wants them to or not. He has healthily tanned Caucasian skin and retains a physically fit form, weighing roughly around 150 pounds, exhibiting a lean and muscular form to compliment his average 5'7 height. For the typical choice of apparel, in an attempt to retain some sense of civility, Reeth actually dresses very nicely, although the equipment he carries quickly sets off the image. He wears thin fitting, suave black dress shirt with exceptionally long sleeves and unbuttoned cuffs, to conceal his hands and fingertips which end with sharp claws at the tips. Holding up a pair of tattered blue jeans, he wears a set of crossed brown suede belts, each holding a side of the slim jeans and containing a soft buttoned pouch holding various things. The pouch on his right side is always for the most important articles he owns. His most recent piece of literature, the small parchment containing 15 names, and his cell phone which gives him bounty information. His left pocket holds his spending cash and other various trinkets, some for hygiene like sharpening or trimming his claws or combing through his thick hair. It will also hold any random essentials for a current mission. Protruding from his backside out of a ripped hole is Reeth's bushy tail. Relatively long, it is a shaggy dull gray tail which comes to a point, showing off a cute little white tip. The torn and tattered jeans trail down, covering the majority of his hairy feet which hold a pair of brown flip flop sandals which are easily kicked off during close combat. Finally, adorned across his back with a thick brown leather strap is a lengthy fire arm simply known as Ivory. On account of Reeth rarely liking to get his hands dirty, he prefers to execute most of his higher ranking missions using this particular weapon. A long barreled sniper rifle complete with green tinted scope. Its an older gun with mis-aligned sight on the scope, mostly signifying that Reeth hasn't exactly escaped poverty.

Bounty Hunter Rank: B - He moved quickly in the ranks after being forced to atone for his actions in a tragic incident that landed him under a lot of heat.

Criminal Rank: A - Reeth obtained an incredibly high bounty on his head after one faithful night in his early teens. He had lost control of his ability in the dead of night and murdered many people in a far off boonies town. Only known as The Beast of Hampshire, He fought off multiple bounty hunters for months until he was finally cornered by authorities while sleeping one night. He was offered a way out and that was to capture or kill every criminal on a list of 15. He's done all but 3.

History: Reeth's history isn't a complicated one in the slightest. Before the Hampshire incident he lived in the northern forest with his mother and father and group of other wolf form Gargars who could scarcely call themselves a pack. While growing up, all the wolves thought of were fighting and power and that was all his parents thought of too. It didn't take long for Reeth to develop a curiosity to why the wolves were that way. He began to ask questions and analyze the pack's way of thinking but was always quickly dismissed. As he grew older, of course his curiosity grew greater. He began sneaking off to a nearby village, stealing literature and teaching himself how to read in the dead of night. He grew into his pubescent years and acquired knowledge above the others in his pack and was soon seen as a threat to the well being of the pack. He finally decided to leave the pack. (more so kicked out, but he'll never say that) Reeth fled to the nearby village where he had trouble being accepted at first but the villagers grew to love him and his helpfulness. Everything in Reeth's life was going perfectly in the tiny town of Hampshire. That is until one night, at the age of 14, a surge of energy in his body that being with his own kind could have been better handled, took over his body, turning him into an incredible beast of unbelievable strength. He quickly and involuntarily slaughtered a majority of the villagers in the creature's fit of rage. The morning came and Reeth awoke, covered in blood. He had no idea what happened but the villagers sure did. They turned their tunes against him quite quickly, chasing him out of their town and immediately slapping a Class A bounty on him. He dropped from the happy child growing up in a small town to a lonely, scared, and spiteful young boy with a Class A bounty on his head, who quickly lost all compassion for anyone who stood between him and survival. It was only a matter of months before the authorities caught up with him and presented him with the list. Due to the severity of the crime, his young age was not taken into consideration... thrusting him into a heartless and unforgiving world. He has knocked names off the list through the years, hardening him as a bounty hunter and an individual, but has the top 3 left. Araxian (The Rock) Cardwell at #3, Brianca Swermont -The Metropolis Succubus at #2, and DL himself at #1.

Chi Class: Regeneration/Reinforcement and slight skills in destructive.

Feral Claw(Reinforce) - Reeth focuses his chi into the claws on his fingers, sharpening them beyond razors and uses them to tear and puncture and rip. A very bloody assault, it is most often used in a single strike.

Beast of Hampshire(Reinforce) - The infamous form which earned Reeth his nickname. He named the form after that faithful night. It is a large 6 foot wolf which stands on its hind legs, sporting silky white fur. Its upper torso is incredibly bulky and muscular and claws are nothing to be scoffed at either. The wolf has large dripping fangs which tear through anything. Its fur stands on end and it is amazingly agile. Reeth has absolutely no control while in this form outside of now knowing how to summon its strength. Its eyes are black as coal, signify the futility in trying to communicate with Reeth while he is like this. The form wreaks havoc until its thirst for murder dies or 25 minutes pass. Its only been released voluntarily 3 times.

Rp Sample: Ask and you shall receive, but you know my style.

Scarlet Weather
April 23rd, 2008, 4:06 PM
Alright, good job, but off in one area: I'm gonna have to ask you to drop your second chi technique, because (and I forgot to mention this) no Chi user can have more than one class. Although, I think you're the first person to come up with a Werewolf-style reinforcement technique, but since that's just strengthening I suppose it's OK. Otherwise, ACCEPTED, as long as Ivory isn't firing real bullets (no gunpowder and all that.)

April 23rd, 2008, 4:32 PM
those were actually my two main concerns about the application, i'm going to omit both of them from the profile, sorry if i was stretchin your rules a bit =P i'll PM you when they're done, i'm kinda busy right now

April 23rd, 2008, 4:33 PM
edit: Alllrighty, I suggest you don't read this sign-up until I explicitly say I'm done, because a lot of the things like the years he spent as a criminal etc. are pretty messed up. xD; My math isn't 100% right now, I'll fix it once I get his history nailed down.

Full name: Vaness Luka Hebe (Vah-ness, Loo-kah, Hee-Bee.) Oftenly referred to by his middle name.

Age: 19

Personality: Luka is a dreamer, easily swept away by his fantasies and easily distracted by the smallest things. His keen senses don't help his tendency to become engrossed in every little thing, as even the slightest sound or smell that's out of his everyday experience will attract his attention. He enjoys staring out into space, thinking about everything and nothing, but is often far from interested in sharing or discussing what's going through his incomprehensible mind. Luka’s slight and laid-back personality is somewhat feminine at first, though his voice and mannerisms are still predominantly male. At times, his feminine mannerisms can be acquitted to his case of schizophrenia. His irrational curiosity and thought process that jumps left and right is categorized as the disorganized thought process symptom in schizophrenics, and at very rare times when his imagination is carried away by these thoughts, he experiences hallucinations. They are never quite as bizarre as one might expect, he simply seems to lose all reaction, as though his mind has shut off. His hallucinations are always that of an endless, pure white room, with absolutely nothing of interest within it, henceforth causing his lack of reaction. If there is nothing to capture his interest, Luka becomes a living human doll, incapable of doing anything without someone to boss him about. However, depending on what is capturing his interest, Luka will either show his schizophrenic tendencies in full blown colors of the rainbow, or reveal his second unfortunate mind-twisting disorder. While on hunts for criminals that the young teenager is very keen on meeting or killing, the fact that Luka suffers from Dissociative Identity Disorder becomes quite apparent.

Luke is the second personality that resides in Luka, the one and only other identity. Unlike Luka, who is very much the type whom one could easily step all over without exerting any effort, Luke is brash and loud-mouthed, stubborn and completely self-centered. He has no problem doing things that Luka would never do, such as kill a criminal without a good reason or curse in the presence of children, and Luke prides himself on never following rules or orders. A wild bucking bronco, Luke is at first uncontrollable, but keeps Luka’s already half obliterated mental state in mind when he goes on his rampages. To Luke, there is no species, person, human, thing, or animal on the face of the earth that might be more important than himself other than Luka, who is his ‘container’. Luka’s opinion, however, is of no importance. The body he shares with Luka is the most important thing, and Luke makes a point to avoid getting even the slightest scratch on it, often yelling in boundless fury if Luka gets so much as a papercut on their finger. He doesn’t hesistate to berate Luka for the latter’s habit of giving the benefit of the doubt more than three times, and Luke is often the most stressed out whenever Luka’s somewhat naïve ways get the two in trouble- Luke often being the one to bail them out of it. In general, Luke is a very irritable person who can’t see past his own blown up ego, while Luka is a very patient person, all smiles who doesn’t mind going out of his way to help someone out. The two clash, and it never ceases to cause problems for themselves, and the people around them.

Gender: Male

Race: Hiratana

Appearance: It would not be difficult to label Luka as a depressing person, due to his tendency to dress in nothing but dark colors, often sticking with earthy tones or black. He prefers to hide his spindly frame under a slim fitting coffee colored double-breasted trench coat that reaches just past the middle of his thighs. The black silk-lined lapels of the jacket are notched, turned over and ironed flat. The black belt that is supposed to buckle around the middle and cinch the waist in is left dangling from the loops on either side of Luka’s waist, as cinching the jacket would effectively defeat its purpose. Very sensitive about the fact that he’s practically skin and bones, Luka easily suffers bouts of sudden depression whenever his broomstick-figure is mentioned, claiming that his lack of visible muscles make him feel like weaker than other Hiratana. He is not particularly tall for his age, but his lanky and angular body cause his height seem somewhat exaggerated. Under his trench coat, Luka wears a black ribbed turtleneck, the scrunchy collar showing that the garment is obviously too big for him. Luka has made a habit of pulling the collar over his chin whenever he remembers at the most random times, though it almost always slides down without his notice. When he removes his jacket, the turtleneck is revealed to be short sleeved, reaching just past the middle of his bicep. His right ear lobe is pierced and a small silver hoop earring hangs from it, though one can barely ever tell. His midnight black hair that hangs between and around his eyes cover his ears entirely, the front pieces that frame his face just barely grazing his chin. The rest of the layered haircut ends at the base of his neck, most of the strands jutting out from behind shoulders to graze the cotton clothing over his collarbones.

Luka’s eyes are a story within themselves. They are always swirling with different emotions, though one that is ever present is a slight sense of melancholy. They add the brightest splash of color to his wardrobe, both being bright azure. His pupils seem very small and if his eyes were not so heavy lidded, a constantly sharp and angry look might be engraved into Luka’s otherwise baby-faced features. But because this stand out color bothers Luka to no ends, Luka almost always wears a beige Gatsby hat upon his head, often turning the brim down to hide his eyes. The young hunter is very adept at seeing, even with his brim impairing nearly half his vision, and often refuses to open his eyes all the way without the accessory. A pair of dark gray pants deceive his attempt to hide his frame however, seeing as he dislikes wearing belts that remind him of how meager he looks, and thus is forced to wear a pair of pants that actually fit about his waist decently so that he need not pull the waistline of his pants up every other second. On his feet are a pair of plain 1-inch heeled black loafers, cut and made from bicast leather. His spidery fingers are hidden by a pair of pleated black suede gloves. While with the addition of the jacket and Gatsby hat, the flexible movement that is essential for Luka’s fighting style seems to be slightly imparied, Luka is insistent on appearing less fragile and thus has yet to find the desire to change his style for the better of his occupation.

Rank: C-Rank, though only a hunter for four years due to his desire to not return to the prisons or asylums he'd been shut up in, Luke killed the criminal who had sheltered him during his year of avoiding officials to step up in the ranks. (It wasn't particularly difficult, considering that the criminal was not aware of Luke's change of heart.) He also killed the old man who had paid Luka's way out of jail, stepping up another rank. Those who know of this story are wary of Luka, and though he is C-Ranked, Luka rarely takes on C-Ranked murderers, preferring simpler jobs that he can handle with ease, such as pettier C-Ranked criminals or sex offenders. Seeing as his greater accomplishments were done from the inside out, quite literally with Luke being the one who executed them all, Luka's ranking is more accurately attributed around the E area when ridiculously good luck isn't on his side. Luke, however, has no issues dealing with C-ranked criminals, and is the main source of income.

Criminal Rank: C-Rank, attained this ranking at the age of 8 after murdering his father and attempting to murder his younger brother. One year was spent on the run, and he was picked up by an older B-ranked criminal. After being captured, he spent five years being transferred between an asylum and high security prison (high security by the request of the asylum who had noticed his second personality's violent tendencies. He was isolated from other prisoners during this time, much to Luke's disappointment). After the five years had passed, Luka was bailed by a wealthy old man who was an old C-Ranked Gang member who had never been caught, and the ex-employer of his father.

History: Poor. That’s what Luka’s family was. One could hardly tell that they were though, because his father was one of the many live-in technicians that kept a wealthy Hiratana’s home running smoothly at all times. However, he was neither the brightest, nor the quickest, and thus was no star amongst his co-workers. It was his two sons who shone like a bright polished trophy, particularly the eldest. Even amongst Hiratana, he excelled at martial arts and had sharp senses, and was the top student in the class he’d been enrolled in, sponsored by his father’s employer. Luka, the older brother, and Joale, the younger. Their mother had died giving birth to Joale, and neither of them remembered her. Luka was the seemingly quiet type who always walked into class with a new injury, be it a bruise, cut, or broken bone, there was always something new to see, and this was the main thing that impaired his success the most. Luka’s father had long hated his sons for outshining him in everything. It was by such wonderful sheer luck that such skilled beings were under his jurisdiction. Luka suffered the abuse in silence, fearing his father’s wrath should he speak up. The timid boy had a friend on his side to help him through it though. An imaginary friend who could take down anyone, even Luka’s father if he really wanted to. His friend was strong, and nobody bossed him around and told him what to do without getting in deep trouble. At this point in Luka’s life, however, Luka had neglected to give his friend a name. Thinking it a trivial thing, he preferred to concentrate on martial arts. He was smart enough to know that imaginary friends were just that; imaginary. By the time he was 7, it was apparent that Luka suffered from domestic violence, as a simple tendency to be quiet and unassuming warped into an impenetrable wall and complete silence, a habit of flinching whenever anyone reached out to him. Luka spent the rest of the year away from his family, under the wing of a foster family that the wealthy man had hired. Luka was supposed to be his future, invincible body guard. There was to be no one to get in the way of that ideal, not even his own father.

The year away from home was spent without improvement. Luka refused to speak to anyone but his friend, who still refused to tell Luka his name. And no matter how many people he tried to convince, nobody believed that his ‘imaginary’ friend, for quite a long time, had no longer been imaginary. He continued to succeed, but barely registered that he was doing so, engrossed with making sure his friend never left, often talking to himself. His lips were sealed towards anyone else but Joale. Joale was not nearly as successful in his studies as Luka, and thus, the old man had not bothered with the weaker of the two. He’d been left at home, and whenever Joale came to visit during the duration of that year, Luka would crack his only smiles. He came every time with a new injury, and brushed it off every time Luka’s foster family inquired after them. Worrying over Joale, doing as the old man commanded, and talking to his imaginary friend was the only thing Luka’s life consisted of. Everything else, eating, sleeping, was only done on command. He returned at the end of the year, only to find the living conditions in his shack of a home on the edge of the old man’s property worse than before. Joale was not allowed to smile at Luka’s return. And Luka’s father was not allowed to beat Luka without risking losing his job and any other job in the umbrella of companies that the old man owned. Luka was the old man’s gem that would be endlessly polished until it shone blindingly. Their father turned to the next alternative and took out his frustration on Joale. A month passed in this way, and Luka did nothing, said nothing. He did not speak to his friend, he did not speak to Joale, he didn’t even speak to the old man.

It was Luka’s 8th birthday, and his father was drunk beyond belief. When he was drunk, the house was somewhat peaceful, as peaceful as it ever got. But drunk beyond belief was different from drunk. Their father stumbled in and the beating upon Joale resumed, Luka watching on the sidelines without a sound. His eyes widened in surprise when his father turned upon him though, and Luka crashed into the wall from the magnitude of the hit he’d taken directly to his jaw. The two brothers made not a sound as their father swayed about the room, taking turns between them. Luka blinked in surprise and dodge an attack automatically when he heard his friend laugh. Luke. His name was Luke, his friend told him, and then nothing happened. At least, in Luka’s memory. When things started happening again, Luka was staring down at the dead body of his father. He didn’t remember that, nor did he remember being so soaked in blood. Joale’s eyes were wide with fear as they watched his older brother pressed into the furthest corner of the house.

That was enough to confirm Luka’s deed. And thus, things stopped happening again, and the next time he woke up, he was sitting in a white padded room, wearing a very uncomfortable jacket, and his hair was a lot longer than he remembered. He couldn’t move, and muffled voices were talking about him, using big words like she-zoh-fuh-reh-nee-ah and dis-associate-ive personality deez-order. He didn’t understand what was going on, and stared blankly at the little metal square on the wall he faced, waiting patiently for something to happen. Something always did. The door opened and the people dressed in white commented on him, saying things like, “He’s calmed down” and “Is this the other personality?”. They asked for his name, and after a moment’s silence, Luka gave them his name hesitantly. They nodded in agreement- it was definitely not the same boy they’d captured earlier. Keep him here when he’s Luka, one of the men had ordered, bring him to the prison when he’s Luke.

Luka didn’t understand at all. Luka was Luka. He was himself. He remembered something about himself. Luka inquired as to the location and wellfare of his little brother, and they replied that he was missing. Gone. They told him the whole story. He’d killed his father and attempted to get rid of the witness Joale, or more accurately, Luke had. They told him that he was now almost 10 years old. That wasn’t right, in Luka's opinion, because his last birthday had been his eighth. He voiced this protest. It took a full day of explanations for Luka to understand. It took another day for Luka to comprehend his illnesses and why he had them.

And the rest, is history.

Which means I’m just going to reveal it later because this history is already ridiculously long. and angsty.

Chi Class: Materialization/Manipulation

Abilities: Luka's chi most often materializes as a small bird that sits perched on his shoulder. The bird has no name, and looks like your ordinary bird. Luka controls the chi to act like a regular bird whenever the nameless bird is pointed out, but it has no self-awareness, and cannot move on it's own. However, when it is applied in battle, it changes into three long blades that attatch themselves to the end of Luka's right fingers.

Rp Sample: (Show your stuff! I'll only ask for one if I really need it, but if you are weak in other areas, a good rp sample is a great way to change my mind.)

Sweet Dreams
April 24th, 2008, 6:27 PM
Looks good so far.

I'm just starting to feel awkward because of the C-rank bounty hunters that are, say, eight years younger than my character. And the B-ranked one that's six years younger. Could I change my age?

April 24th, 2008, 6:44 PM
Oh sorry, was that my bad? xD;

I actually have no problems with changing Luka's hunter rank, if it's a problem. *shot'd* It wouldn't contradict with anything at all. xD;

April 24th, 2008, 6:47 PM
ya... mine was purposefully young because of his dicey history, but I can change as well

Sweet Dreams
April 24th, 2008, 7:11 PM
Yeah, well I kinda understand why Kansas did it, but I was wondering if it was really sensible to put a, well, in some states of the USA, not even legal guy to chase down murderers and such-like.

If you were told a nineteen-year-old had captured a hardened, allusive, thirty-five year old gangster...

But I could just change my own age...

April 24th, 2008, 7:20 PM
Sign-Up sheet.

Full name: Centi Lupe Centera

Age: 24

Personality: Very serious, talks only when he thinks he needs to, but will ask alot of questions when confused. He likes to stay behind to observe everything, he has a strong nose and can sniff out danger, and almost anything else. But he is deafly afraid of swimming. He has a bad habit of growling at things he doesn't like. And has long fingernails that he sharpens every morning.

Gender: male

Race: Hiratana

Appearance: A scruffy faced-curly-haired teen. Wears a dark black sweater with fur around the hood and the cuffs, the sweater is only zipped half-way, in which underneath he wears an extremely teared up black shirt. He also wears dark blue baggy pants and slick black army boots. He has a greenish-red colored eyes, and has deep bags under his eyes. He has a dark carribean-hispanic skin color, has alot of hair everywhere. His hair is extremely curly and long, almost like an afro, the color is a kind of brown creme.
Birthmark: He has a mysterious scar that runs down from hi left cheek to his neck. It glows when he uses his powers

Rank: B rank

Criminal Rank (If former criminal):E rank, pick-pocketing

History: i want to update this throughout the rp

Chi Class: Materialization/Manipulation

Shadow manipulation-can make and move shadows at will, the shadows can hold a target still for a few minutes.
Sand Manipulation-controls any nearby sand(he cant make it yet) and may shape it into any shape thinkable.

Rp Sample:
Samuel enters a dark cave, the only sound is the drip..drip..dripping of an icicle melting. He steps slowly farthur in, he cant even believe hes doing this. He flicks a match, frawth! and lights up the room. He looks around, it's completely empty. But then suddenly a noise makes Samuel rethink, footsteps coming from farther in, the sounds get louder, and louder. The sounds are heading towards Samuel.

Samuel:"Shoot! What do i do? oh man...uh...a rock..ill hide there..oh soot i better be quiet!"
Dark Figure 1:"Who's That, huh! Whos there show yourself!"
Dark Figure 2:"I think it was just a zubat or something, forget about it."
Dark Figure 3:"No! I heard it too, and... I saw whoever it was run behind that rock" The third figure points at the rock in which Samuel is hiding behind.

Samuel thinks as hard as he can: 'Oh man they found me! how do i get out of this?!'
The three figures walk to the rock, the first figure grabs Samuel and throws him against a nearby wall. Thump!
Samuel:"AHHH!!!....oof!" As Samuel gets up his body begins to cahnge..his hair grows into a mane, his nose gets larger, his legs and arms turn red and yellow, his eyes turn bright yellow. Soon where Samuel stood, now stands a large Arcanine.

P.S. this rp sample is from one of my Pokemon rps

Scarlet Weather
April 25th, 2008, 7:47 AM
@Centi: Your sign-up is lacking description in every field. I'm sorry, I can't accept you, especially considering that the History Field concession is available only to those whose sign-ups make me stare and wonder how on earth anyone had the patience to sit there and type all that up. In addition, Materialization/Manipulation is defined as the ability to summon and control a weapon or other object made entirely of chi, not the ability to mentally control existing objects. Sorry, but DENIED until you edit your sign-up- PM me for details on what I want.

@The Age Question: This really wasn't an issue in this RPs original version because everyone was playing Armania characters with the exception of one lone RPer. However, I'm not going to force anyone to change their ages- if you want to, do it, as long as you think it makes sense. As for the logic involved, well... Aramani ain't the U-S of A. Since the country's gone to the dogs only very recently, the police force isn't too concerned about who signs up for a bounty and who doesn't, within reason. C-Rank criminals aren't all murderers- we're also talking, say, pedophiles, thieves, and anyone who's committed enough low-rank crimes that their points have leaped up to C-Level. Also, C-Rank is about the mid-hunter level, so I don't really require a huge amount of experience under your character's belt if you want that.

Anyway, point is, no need to change any of your ages unless you want to. My character is Armania anyway, so age really doesn't matter as much. XD

@Loki: reserved, and welcome to the force... ROOKIE. (XD, always wanted to say that).

Anyway, once Loki and Brad finish their sign-ups, and I post mine, I think we'll be good to start. SO DON'T ASK ANY STUPID QUESTIONS BETWEEN NOW AND THEN. VERY GOOD. >.<

Hope this turns out better than last time! :3

April 25th, 2008, 8:04 AM
I think I've managed to explain Luka's ranking. dumb luck?! So that should be a little better. Once I put in Luka's ridiculously long history which I'll be sure to do tonight, it'll make sense as to why he's so young, and the crapped out explanation in the rank sections will make more sense. xD; I may have to end up making him 20 in order fit everything in though, so in the end, I guess the age thing is remedied. (I made him 19 originally because Evas' character is 21, and really... it's just a 2 year difference. =A=)


Rookie?! D:<

o. onozudidnawt.

Alter Ego
April 25th, 2008, 10:51 AM
Oh my, I remember this...and the silly reasons that we shan't get into as well. ;3 Ahh...I know I shouldn't, but...bleah, screw it; I've been on RPing hiatus way too long anyway and by the looks of it there will only be two weekends ahead when I don't get computer access. So yeah, if weekly posting is fast enough for you, count me in; if not then I understand, but I loved this silly old thing to pieces for the short while it lasted so I couldn't resist. ^^

...and besides, the few RPs I'm still running with seem kind of dead at the moment. xP

Anyways, all of the below may (and probably will be) edited for greater eloquence, detail and quality later on. Just wanted to get the basic idea of my character out there before I forget it myself. xD

Full name: Kindra "Kin" Glantine

Age: 41

Gender: Female

Race: Armania

Personality: A sweet, innocent, rather shy child...is what those who don't know Kin better would describe her as. She is fully aware of how disarming her childlike appearance can be and has cultivated her behavior to exploit those sentiments to their fullest, filling her mannerisms with cute little tilts of the head, carefree skipping, and of course bashful little smiles and doe-eyed fawning, with a trembling lip and radiant smile to touch the hearts of all but the most cynical and hardened individuals. Kin never seems to get into serious arguments with anyone, rarely going beyond stamping her foot and pouting (most adorably, one might add) in negotiation techniques. As many have learned the hard way, however, the real Kin is another matter altogether. Cunning and cynical beyond her years, she actually looks down on most people around her, using her sweet little child act to manipulate others into doing her dirty work for her, even as she resents being treated as a child above all and would wish for nothing more than to exact great vengeance upon those countless fools who treat her like an ignorant brat. This internal conflict of depending on the very thing she hates the most is the root of a lot of deep-rotted anger management issues in Kin's psyche, ones which a few unfortunate criminals have experienced the hard way. Strong-willed and stubborn as she is, however, the petite bounty hunter usually manages to keep these vicious tendencies reined in, a rather unusual characteristic for a destructive chi user, satiating herself by making the lives of her unknowing tormentors a royal pain the way only an annoying little child can. Pranks ranging from malicious to downright cruel haunt those whom Kin has deemed as mocking her, and even though they can never be firmly traced back to her, those working with Kin on a more regular basis usually develop enough prudence to mind their words around her.

On the field, Kin still sticks to her sneaky ways, compensating for her young age and weak physique with ample amounts of trickery and self-made traps. An amateur tinkerer since young age, she is quite adept at assembling snares and small, one-shot gadgets given the appropriate materials, a talent which she is not shy about showing off and should these fail to get the job done, she can always fall back on her arsenal destructive chi techniques. This is a last resort, however, as Kin far prefers to bring her marks in alive; not only is it less messy, but it also helps keep her reputation under hostile radar and saves plenty in material damage fees.

Despite her sociopath ways, Kin is not quite as hardened as she'd like to believe. She places considerable value on what others think of her, a lot more than she'd ever care to admit, so should she take a shine to someone she will make sure to do everything in her power to make that someone approve of her as well, often attempting to discredit those she deems too close to her target of affection in the process. For better or for worse, Kin always goes all-out with whatever she puts her mind to, and with her inherent stubbornness, she is not likely to drop these ideas in a hurry. Logic and reasoning do little to steer Kin away from any course of action she has set her heart on, most likely only marking the objector as a scapegoat should the scheme go awry. In Kin's little world, mistakes are what happen to other people and other people alone.

Appearance: Standing at a meager 1,47 meters with a lithe and petite frame even considering her age, Kin seems to have aged slowly even for one of her own kind, looking far more like your average bratty little twelve-year old than the accomplished bounty hunter she actually is. Her silvery hair descends down her head to about shoulder length in a mass of untamed curls that all but conceals the tiny pair of curved horns on her forehead and a pair of wide, pale green eyes set into a slim, tanned and usually slightly dirtied face add to the appearance of an innocent little child born into bad times. When Kin smiles, however, this look is somewhat disrupted as the set of disturbingly curved canines at the sides of her mouth come into view and as such, she prefers to keep these teeth out of sight to maintain the innocent image.

As attire goes, Kin usually looks like she has just crawled up from a bargain bin of second-hand clothes, usually donning a worn, mustard-colored dress shirt a few sizes too large for her, the sleeves of which extend over her hands while the hem dangles almost at her ankles like a bizarre skirt. On top of the shirt, she wears a more form-fitting dark orange vest, the inside of which has a number of small pockets that conceal an assortment of wires, tools, and assorted trap components which she uses for her work while a thick, maroon-colored scarf is wrapped around her neck, its ends extending a fair bit down on each side. Below these rests a simple pair of black trousers, the multiple stitches on their surface evidence of plentiful wear and tear, a pair of equally worn sneakers peeking out from underneath. For the purpose of carrying more of her worldly possessions, she also has a beige knapsack which usually doesn't stay far from her person.

Rank: C-rank (low end of that one, though)

Criminal Rank (If former criminal): D-Rank, mostly petty theft, disruptive behavior, and small-time scams with a few choice burglaries.

History: Kin's personal history, much to the chagrin of the police department's background investigation team, is riddled with assumptions and unanswered questions. The exploits of her family are certainly no secret; after all, Glantine Arms was one of the few companies that stood to gain from Armania's extensive history of warfare, rising from obscurity to the very highest peaks of the economy with the steady updraft of lucrative state contracts and the Glantines themselves certainly did not keep their newfound success low-key, living like lords even as the nation that had brought them their immense wealth was decaying around them. As tends to be the case with the nouveau rich, however, the family didn't manage to hold its lofty perch for long. With the new era of relative peace and stability, demand for the kind of heavy warfare tools that Glantine Arms specialized in plummeted while the burden of debt grew ever taller and even in Kin's early childhood, the family was clearly in a downward spiral. The family crisis was further escalated by a series of heated arguments that eventually caused Kin's older sister, Lethe, to denounce her family and escape to lead her own life, a decision which was too much for her mother's frayed nerves to bear, plunging the woman into a nervous breakdown that reverted her mind to a childlike state. Mr.Glantine, on the other hand, took to desperate measures to ensure his family's livelihood, gambling what little fortune he got his hands on in a desperate attempt to hit a lucky break. This mythical 'break' never came, however, as Mr.Glantine finally faced an untimely death after staking the last thing he had; his life. What little property debtors hadn't taken was confiscated by the state, and custody of Kin was transferred to the state childcare institution.

Needless to say, Kin did not take well to the spartan childcare center, nor its caretakers, and though her stay at the institution was short, it was made all the more memorable by her constant arguing and troublemaking. Arrogant and temperamental, she made few friends among the other orphans and soon took to escaping the oppressive setting at every opportunity in favor of roaming the streets of Armania. With things being as they were, it was only a matter of time until she finally disappeared from the official radar for nearly two years and getting officially declared dead, only to re-emerge among a gang of street children squatting in an abandoned communal building within the Shades, one of many slum districts within the city. After her first conviction, Kin's name began popping up with increasing frequency. A petty theft there, a pillaged apartment there, and eventually a full-grown law enforcer hospitalized after being struck down with an unknown chi technique. Though standard procedure would have been to simply convict the girl for attempted murder, there were those among the officials who were intrigued by a child as young as Kin wielding destructive chi of such magnitude and it was probably these who extended the offer to recruit Kin for the bounty hunter division, arguing that it would be more beneficial to have such a loose cannon safeguarding public order than disrupting it. Mistrusting of this offer though she was, Kin found the prospect of the charges hanging over her even less appealing and consented.

Despite the initial turbulence of her new position, Kin seems to have come to terms with the bounty hunter's line of work and even seems to hold a certain grudging respect for her superiors. She still remains secretive about her personal affairs, however, slipping off to her old slum haunts whenever the situation presents itself.

Chi Class: Destructive

Abilities: Fueled as they are by her internal anger, Kin's techniques are primarily volatile in nature, combining shock and surprise factor with explosive force and often spreading wider than intended. What she lacks in control, Kin makes up for with raw chi presence, however, making her an unpredictable and dangerous opponent.

Blasting Vein: The most unpredictable and widely destructive of Kin's attacks. By means of this technique, Kin sends a highly compressed stream of chi into any solid surface. Rather than exploding directly, however, the energy seeps into every diminutive crack and crevice it finds on its target before expanding violently, shattering it from the inside out in an explosion of heated scrap. It should be noted, however, that this technique requires initial flaws within the target in order for the chi to get inside, and thus won't work against a truly solid obstacle. Due to its wide and often hard-to-measure area of impact, this technique also requires a measure of preparation to be used even relatively safely and as such, Kin usually restricts it for use in her deadlier traps or as an elaborate diversion.

Fairy Fire: A personal favorite of Kin's. With a quick focus of chi, Kin can use this technique to spawn a tiny ball of silvery fire on each of her fingertips, projectiles which spread effortlessly with the slightest of breezes, easily launched just by blowing at them. While they burn at a relatively low temperature and are incapable of truly burning most things, usually creating little more than an uncomfortable tickling sensation, the flames are extremely resilient and stick doggedly to anything they land on. Blowing and stamping will merely cause the flames to multiply, further adding to the chaos they cause, and as they glow far brighter than most conventional fire, they are ideal for marking opponents who attempt to flee or hide themselves. Kin herself far prefers this technique for its ability to spread confusion and panic, however, and it has served as cover for her own getaways on more than one occasion.

Firecracker: There's really nothing deep or complex about this technique, no deep self-exploration or precious mentor who passed on their prized attack to a beloved pupil. Kin simply needed something to help her even out the odds in hand-to-hand combat and with her inner anger burning as strong as ever, her chi manipulation was quick to oblige. By using this technique, Kin can add an edge to her otherwise somewhat lackluster kicks and punches by releasing a quick burst of chi with each strike. This release results in a tiny but focused explosion that sends the opponent reeling, accompanied by a loud, shrieking sound, not at all unlike that of released fireworks, and a small cloud of thick, black smoke. Prone to improvisation as she is, Kin has recently discovered that she can also use this method to propel herself forward for extra leverage and momentum. Given the unstable nature of the attack, her control over her movements is rather limited when using this technique in this way, and it is not unheard of for Kin to miss her target.

Rage Buster: Perhaps the biggest shock for those who think that Kin's weak physique would give them an edge against her in melee combat, the Rage Buster technique is truly a textbook example of destructive chi. When backed into a corner, Kin can tap into her inner rage and pent-up frustration, releasing it all in one, devastating blast of chi that pushes outwards from her body, slamming into anyone and everyone unfortunate enough to be in her vicinity with devastating force. Though the strength and scope of this technique is dependent on the intensity of Kin's anger and desperation, it seems incapable of reaching more than about half a meter from her body, and what's more, the technique is highly costly as it releases nothing less than the absolute maximum of chi that Kin can muster at the time, rendering it a last-ditch attack to be used only in the worst of scenarios, Given the uncharacteristically defensive nature of the technique as well as its' creator's stubborn and persistent personality, some have gone as far as to call this technique proof that Kin is actually a barrier user who's fallen out of her discipline. The temperamental little bounty hunter herself has yet to dignify any theories of this nature with anything but the most scathing of remarks.

Rp Sample: Oh come now, don't tell me you've gone and forgotten about Aerin...there's an RP sample for you. XD And then there's the x amount of far better written posts I've done in CARD GAMES and Alarayne among others. :3

Scarlet Weather
April 25th, 2008, 5:49 PM

Lessee... On the condition you never speak of my dismally sub-par RPing skills when I wrote this RP's original incarnation ACCEPTED. Welcome back to the force... ROOKIE.

Oh, and Loki... ohyezijustdid.

Time to write my own danged sign-up! *snaps*

Name: Walter Almassy

Age: 63

Gender: It's that one with the doohickey that points down and looks like a little arrow attached to a circle.

Race: Armania

Personality: "I'm sorry, I was just..." If you find yourself completing that sentence with "looking at those clouds up there", "trying to figure out how this works", "reading this book", or, the all time classic, "thinking" you are probably something like Walter. As Armania go, he's probably one of the few who genuinely does spend his life in something like a "waking dream". He generally has no clue what's going on around him, and is more than a little infuriating to talk to when you want a straight answer. In fact, he can barely manage to stay on subject if something has really captured his interest. The infuriating thing for most who work with Walter- including the Chief himself- is that the Armania's interest is almost never captured by the task at hand. In truth, he's kind of ditzy, and most people who walk into the police station assume that he's the Chief's secretary or something of that nature, as opposed to a right-hand man. When the task at hand does interest Walter, however, he sets to it with what could be conceived as a superhuman will. He applies every ounce of his being, every available speck of intelligence at his disposal, and every trick he knows out, which is probably why the Police Force hasn't given him severance pay and sent him home yet: despite the fact that he often forgets to take his job seriously, he has managed to perform it admirably at times.

Walter isn't all daydreams and musings. He can, at times, be very down to earth and practical about matters. These times are so few and far between that the last one recorded occurred about five years ago. When confronted about this, Walter usually laughs it off and states that for him five years isn't all that long. And if the Chief happens to be in the room, he will be hit with a book. Probably a heavy one. It's an innocent enough scene of employer/employee tension, but underneath it lies a second, slightly scarier side of Walter's personality: his fascination with pain. It began when he was younger and first began to read about the effects of physical pain on the body, and began to grow into a sort of pet fascination for him in his later years. Part of the reason the Chief tends to keep him close is that without someone to call him off, Walter will tend to draw out battles as long as possible and tends to taunt criminals while inflicting non-fatal wounds when he gets the chance. For this reason, those closest to him on the force have given him the nicknames "Tormentor".

On extremely rare occasions, when Walter actually manages to focus his mind fully on combat, he seems to become a different person entirely, speaking in a different tone of voice than normal, and dropping all pretenses of respect for his opponent. He wields his weapons of choice very carefully, making sure to drag on his victim's suffering as long as possible while experiencing as little pain as possible himself. While this would seem to be a dramatic change in personality, in reality it's simply a facet of the "real" Walter that he tends to cover up in public. It should be noted that this performance is as much an act to unnerve the opponent as it is a way for Walter to channel his somewhat sadistic tendencies. To further convince the criminal he's attacking that he has shifted to a "dark" personality, Walter will sometimes lower his voice and begin describing the exact nature of the injuries he is about to inflict to them. In other words, "Walter the Tormentor" is about fifty-percent latent sadistic tendencies being channeled and fifty-percent Walter's attempt to intimidate his foes. In addition, while Walter takes a sort of enjoyment from causing pain, he dislikes killing an opponent for any reason, preferring to take them alive or incapacitate them if possible rather than destroyed them outright.

Appearance: About twenty-six years old by Armanian standards, Walter stands at about five feet seven inches, a little on the short side. While he has dyed his hair in the past, he now allows it to remain its natural, silvery color while keeping it cut close around the back of his head and ears. His small, silvery horns feature prominently on his face, and nearly for his metallic, gray eyes- a not-uncommon feature among the Armania- in color. Those who meet him immediately notice his athletic build, and the firmness of his handshake, both qualities gained during his work as a field agent. The part of his appearance that causes people to keep staring at him, however, is the scar. Specifically, the circle-shaped scar around his right eye that resembles a pink monocle. Walter won't explain how it got there, and if anyone asks... well, it probably won't end well for them. Then there's the matching scars on the backs of both of his hands... but most people don't see those anyway, seeing as Walter has prudently covered his hands with a pair of dark gloves.

In terms of attire, Walter generally appears in public in a starched, ruffled white shirt covered by an imitation black silk vest and black slacks. The vest itself is probably the most valuable thing Walter owns, due to the fact that a revolutionary new fiber developed to serve as a replacement for bulkier armors has been sewn into it. The vest can lessen the impact of blades, and can even cause some throwing knives to glance off provided Walter puts enough distance between himself and the thrower. His clothing and some of Walter's mannerisms cause many to mistake him for the Chief's manservant or butler, to his eternal chagrin and embarassment. Honestly, do butlers have their own desks in the dang police office, complete with nameplate? And how many of them rest their legs on said desk, or talk to the Chief himself with the satisfied air of an old war-buddy? In order to counterbalance this perception, Walter has taken to wearing the official blue-and white Police Uniform Jacket over his clothing, but he still turns a lot of heads when people wonder why a butler is living in a low-rent motel in one of the city's richer Crime Districts.

Rank: Though officially a member of the Police Force rather than a bounty hunter, Walter often hunts criminals off-beat in order to pick up some spending cash- being a cop doesn't pay off the bills as much as most people think. His exploits in this field have earned him a cumulative rank of A, and this combined with his years of experience, though many of them have taught him absolutely nothing, makes him one of the most skilled bounty hunters under direct police employ.

Criminal Rank: S, due to a massive Genocidal killing he instigated when he was seven and now haunt him forever, forcing him to atone for his misdeeds by killing people He once earned a C-Rank for commiting an unknown crime, but the inquiry overturned the decision and he was only forced to pay a small fine and take care of legal proceedings. He doesn't like to talk about it.

Chi Class: Manipulation/Materialization

History: YOU CAN'T HANDLE THE TRUTH! *shot'ed* Seriously, I don't think I'm going to reject myself for skipping this for now, am I?

Abilities: Walter's chi manifests itself as an interesting weapon: a set of fine wires, each nearly five meters in length, that can be too fine to see or thick as cables depending on how much chi Walter chooses to invest. The wires are each attached to one of Walter's fingers, and he wields them skillfully as either cutting tools, tripwires, restraints, or whatever the situation calls for. Since the wires are literally part of Walter's essence, he can wield them in ways that no ordinary user of microfilament wires could hope to accomplish, performing acrobatic feats of puppetry and precision attack.

First Blood: An unnerving opening move in any combat situation, Walter creates a single, long, nearly-invisible wire at the tip of his index finger and then flicks it at the opponent, cutting their cheek and drawing blood. This move is mostly used as an intimidation tactic, intending to scare the opponent into thinking Walter has the upper hand.

Carousel of Destruction: Walter rotates quickly while dragging his wires through the ground, causing them to slice it into managable pieces, before switching his wire from a "cutting type" to a "grasping type", wrapping it around the piecies of cut earth, and throwing them. Intended as both a defensive maneuver, since Walter is temporarily surrounded by his wires, and a smokescreen for a follow-up attack.

Feint Plan: One of Walter's favorite, and deadliest, tactics. Walter makes the wires on one hand just thick enough that they are easily visible and launches a series of attacks. As his opponent becomes used to dodging the thicker wires, Walter secretly leads them into a trap by using nearly-invisible wires on his left hand to entangle and cut them.

Pain: Not really an attack but a style of fighting: Walter launches a series of stinging cuts, each one progressively deeper, that slowly begin to take their toll on the opponent's body while taunting and heckling them. Eventually, blood loss and weariness combine to cause the victim to collapse.

Other: Adding to his "butler" appearance, Walter has had training as a waiter, and is perfectly capable of brewing and serving tea for guests.

April 26th, 2008, 5:45 PM
Well, here it is. If I should change anything (height, weapons I can change in a heartbeat, but I made sure to not use gunpowder...) please tell me. I'd like to get into this... ulp... I hope this is good...

Sign-Up sheet.

Full name: Syrina Romanova

Age: 52.5

Personality: Syrina is one insane, crazy, psychopathic wacko. She is intelligent, and actually can be calm, and possibly even nice, or friendly. However, she is usually crazy, going around, finding and torturing criminals for fun. She loves to see others suffer inhumane torture- but only by her hands. She also loves to kill- hence her genocidal path. However, she has matured over the past few years, and is beginning to calm down. She is quite stealthy- you only really see her psycho side if you battle her. Around her peers, she is quiet. She does not like people stealing her kills- it takes away the fun! Syrina is also very cruel for no real reason- most of her victims are criminals with no connection to her. She just loves to kill. She is the kind of person who would shoot an oppressed, starving, retarded, African orphan baby with AIDS for the fun of it. That is how cruel she is. She has no humanity left in her- she lives to kill, drink, have fun, kill again, kill some more, etc. She is also quite charismatic, which helps her find her victims. She does not like over-the-top blasts- her earlier genocides were committed very stealthily.

Syrina is also very much a loner. She never socializes- her social contact is murder.

Gender: Female

Race: Half Armania, Half Hiratana. She has the personality and chi ability of Hiratana (develops it much faster than an Armania or Hiratana) and has the longevity of Armania. She does not have the horns, or silver hair. She also has the technological adeptness of a Hiratana. Overall, the only Armania quality she has is the longevity. She is very developed mentally, but the personality weakness (psychotic!) is a hindering effect from her Armania ancestry.

Appearance: Syrina is 8’4”, and has golden skin. She is actually pretty muscular, but not totally muscular. Her long graceful arms and nimble body help make her a good fighter. She has a pretty slim and curved physique. Her shoulders are curved, and her chest juts outward and curves to a perfect spherical form. After her… noticeable chest, her body curves inward, and then a bit outward again at the hips. She is really good at jumps, and is quite flexible. Her face, like the rest of her body, is baby smooth. She has a small nose, and a charming smile. She has pointed ears, albeit small, and her mouth is relaxed and emanates a friendly presence. She has two eyes, both white in color (she can still see.) They have hexagram pupils, blue in color. Her hair is of a long style, and it flows down to her chest without obscuring her face. It is jet black with streaks of blood red mixed in. Her body, however beautiful, still has scars. Across her left eye, she has a slash scar. She also has an upside cross scar on both of her shoulders. Emblazoned across her stomach is an inverted pentagram tattoo, black in color, and a hexagram adorns her back. The backs of her legs feature the triscele, and the palms of her hands also have tattoos. There is a clockwise swastika (Nazi direction. No, I am not a Nazi, I had a Bar Mitzvah, I am a Jew. It is there for symmetry) on her left hand, and a counterclockwise swastika on her right hand. Syrina wears a revealing outfit. It is white, and only goes down to 4 inches above her bellybutton. Made of leather, and in the fishnet style, it is very revealing. It has no sleeves. This is then covered by a diamond/steel plating, to protect her body. Her hands, and a small bit of her lower arms, are covered in white leather gloves. They have golden spikes on the knuckles, and past the wrist they are made of silver chainmail. She wears a pair of blue goggles around her neck most of the time. Her pants are ragged blue jeans. Her belt, made of alligator leather, have two pockets. These pockets go down to her knees, as they hold her two guns. Both are small pistols with a machine/gatling design. They fire very rapidly, so they easily cause a lot of destruction quick. The pockets also hold her specially designed bullets. Anyways, she wears white/gold/black fur boots, made of tiger and snow leopard fur. They breathe very well, and guard Syrina’s feet.
Rank: S-Class

Criminal Rank : S-Rank criminal. She was never imprisoned, due to her framing other criminals for her offenses. She blew up many sections of the city, and food production centers, and killed thousands. However, her crafty strategy and planning framed other criminals. When it was found out that she was committing the genocide, she got caught. She then escaped prison, and hid for 2 and a half years. By then, the statute of limitations was up, and she became a bounty hunter.

History: She was the illegitimate offspring of a high-ranking Armania statesman and a Hiratana stateswoman. She was cast out immediately, and due to being pretty smart, starting living alone at age 7. She always stole, and cheated, to get what she needed. At age 10, Syrina committed murder. She originally felt guilt, but then realized that it didn’t really matter anyway. She was not caught for those crimes. At age 18, she began to just go on murder/robbery sprees, and haul in a lot of money. She has lived most of her life just doing that over and over again… until after the war. Then, she became a bounty hunter, taking down 3 # 1’s in her lifetime (before DL, of course…)

Chi Class: Destructive.

Abilities: She, using chi, makes explosions to propel bullets out of her two guns. These metal/plutonium bullets are like micro-sized nukes, and can only really kill up to 5 people at once (and only if the blast if fully charged.) THEY ARE NOT REGULAR NUKES- NO ANYTHING SHOULD BE ABLE TO CAUSE THAT UNLESS THEY ARE A NUKE… and Syrina definitely ain’t a nuke. She also has various traps.


Armageddon Blast: She, with her great amount and control of chi (She is 62 and a half years old, but only physically aged 21) forms two small orbs in her hands. They then grow in size, and begin to charge. They begin to multiply as well, into nuclei shapes. Then, she fires both now big nuclei of energy at the opponent.

Chi Prison: She uses energy to shock, paralyze and trap the opponent.

Alter Ego
April 27th, 2008, 12:09 AM
H'okay, I've added a history. The full thing is actually a whole lot bigger than that (six paragraphs and counting o.o), but as I was writing it out I realized that it would be a lot more fun to keep the details in reserve for character development.

Oh, and there's one last technique I wanted to give Kin, so you might want to check to make sure it's not too strong. Personality and (possibly) appearance are still up for expansion, but I hope everything is in order thus far. :3

Scarlet Weather
April 27th, 2008, 3:55 AM
@Brad: Bradster, I really wanted to accept your character, but you're making it so hard on me. 0.o

Aside from the obvious overpoweredness of having a character who accumulates chi at the rate of a Hiratana but has Armanian longevity, I really think you missed the part where I said "chi accumulates at the rate at which you age." So even if you aren't Armania if you have longevity, you accumulate energy slower. Besides that, a romantic relationship between an Armania and anyone else is extremely unlikely, as the Armania would remain young while the other partner would grow old and die. I could understand a Garagana/Hiratana cross, but anything besides an Armania/Armania cross seems a little unlikely. Besides that, you seem to have only included that segment as a means to make your character more powerful. I'm sorry, but I just can't accept your character until you change all of that.

Furthermore... the whole "crazy, psycho" thing is a little over-the-top. We already have one character with sadistic tendencies and one with a real mental disorder that causes him to flip out and carve people up... another genocidal nightmare probably isn't needed. Besides, If she really did commit a crime that massive she wouldn't be put in prison. The sentence undoutedly would have been death. Besides, even in fifty years I doubt she could both evade the law long enough to make the statute of limitations for her crimes (which would have been much longer) and go through the hard task of pulling herself up to S-Rank.

I admire your bravery in signing up with an S-Rank character, which no one in the history of this RP, including myself, has ever attempted. But you really need to fix the following areas before I can accept you:

A) Change your character's lineage.

B) Tone down the genocidal-ness of your character's past and reduce her criminal rank.

C) Change your character's weapons- Air guns don't fire real bullets, they fire shots of compressed air meant to knock over and stun criminals.

D) Add a little more history- that section needs some work.

Until then, DENIED. Sorry.

@AE new technique and smexeh history section is now duly noted. Once again, welcome back to the force... ROOKIE.

Sweet Dreams
April 27th, 2008, 4:32 AM
((Ooc: I was starting to think that the whole roleplay would be filled with sadistic/genocidal/mentally unstable people. I was wondering if I would be the only sane person. That would be such a drag.))

Alter Ego
April 27th, 2008, 6:31 AM
Well, to be fair Kin isn't really a raving psycho or sadist either; just a manipulative little schemer with some minor anger management issues turned nasty by her chi class. :3

But yeah, I didn't like the way the old personality was over-emphasizing the anger aspect when it's not nearly as dominant in her actual behavior so I re-angeled it a bit in my latest (and hopefully final) edit. *Pokes truly finished profile* A lot less ugly wordings there. ^.^

Oh, and Thesis? Maybe an OOC thread would be in order? Y'know, just to keep the chit-chat from overflowing while we wait for the RP to start.

And, like, your rookie comments don't bother me because my Exodia deck still wipes out all your feeble attempts at prevailing in a children's card game. Have at thee! xD

April 27th, 2008, 4:18 PM
Full name: Syrina Romanova

Age: 52.5

Personality: Syrina is one insane, crazy, psychopathic wacko. She is intelligent, and actually can be calm, and possibly even nice, or friendly. She loves to see others suffer inhumane torture- but only by her hands. She actually does it for the money, but seeing as she does it so much, the whole violence appeal sunk into her personality. Her main hobbies are a mix of culture and barbarism. She enjoys drinking, reading, hunting, and relaxation in her manor home. She is quite stealthy- you only really see her psycho side if you battle her. Around her peers, she is quiet. She does not like people stealing her kills- it takes away the fun! Syrina is also very cruel for no real reason- most of her victims are criminals with no connection to her. She just loves to kill criminals for money, and her bounty hunting is how she lets loose some times. She is the kind of person who would shoot an oppressed, starving, retarded, African orphan baby with AIDS for the fun of it. That is how cruel she is. She has no humanity left in her- she lives to kill, drink, have fun, kill again, kill some more, etc. However, she does not kill random innocents. There is no honor in that- they have no criminal past and no challenge for her. She likes to kill criminals, that’s all. She does not like over-the-top blasts, but instead prefers stealthy kills or torture. She is also a dominatrix. She is overbearing, and her tone will make you shrink a little. She is also quite bitter at the moment due to her recent tragic events.

Gender: Female

Race: Dang… Um… Armania… can I just pass off black hair and lack of horns as genetic mutations? This is tearing me up.

Appearance: Syrina is 8’4”, and has golden skin. She is actually pretty muscular, but not totally muscular. Her long graceful arms and nimble body help make her a good fighter. She has a pretty slim and curved physique. Her shoulders are curved, and her chest juts outward and curves to a perfect spherical form. After her… noticeable chest, her body curves inward, and then a bit outward again at the hips. She is really good at jumps, and is quite flexible. Her face, like the rest of her body, is baby smooth. She has a small nose, and a charming smile. She has pointed ears, albeit small, and her mouth is relaxed and emanates a friendly presence. She has two eyes, both white in color (she can still see.) They have hexagram pupils, blue in color. Her hair is of a long style, and it flows down to her chest without obscuring her face. It is jet black with streaks of blood red mixed in. Her body, however beautiful, still has scars. Across her left eye, she has a slash scar. She also has an upside cross scar on both of her shoulders. Emblazoned across her stomach is an inverted pentagram tattoo, black in color, and a hexagram adorns her back. The backs of her legs feature the triscele, and the palms of her hands also have tattoos. There is a clockwise swastika (Nazi direction. No, I am not a Nazi, I had a Bar Mitzvah, I am a Jew. It is there for symmetry) on her left hand, and a counterclockwise swastika on her right hand. Syrina wears a revealing outfit. It is white, and only goes down to 4 inches above her bellybutton. Made of leather, and in the fishnet style, it is very revealing. It has no sleeves. This is then covered by a diamond/steel plating, to protect her body. Her hands, and a small bit of her lower arms, are covered in white leather gloves. They have golden spikes on the knuckles, and past the wrist they are made of silver chainmail. She wears a pair of blue goggles around her neck most of the time. Her pants are ragged blue jeans. Her belt, made of alligator leather, have two pockets. These pockets go down to her knees, as they hold her two guns. Both are small pistols with a machine/gatling design. They fire very rapidly, so they easily cause a lot of destruction quick. The pockets also hold her specially designed bullets. Anyways, she wears white/gold/black fur boots, made of tiger and snow leopard fur. They breathe very well, and guard Syrina’s feet.
Rank: S-Class

Criminal Rank : B-Rank Criminal: She murdered her parents.

History: She was born into riches, but as an illegitimate offspring. For omost of the time that she was a kid by Armanian standards, she was tormented about this fact. She had always had a nice house, nice things- anything anyone would want. But the torment drove her insane. Her tormentors were her parents, who always were restrictive and cautious due to her past. They treated her like a pet, like an inhuman beast, and they were never proud of Syrina, despite her intelligence. This turned Syrina slowly into a crazy person. She repressed her desire to kill until the night of her 35th birthday. That night, she just let it all loose. Her father had said that it was the 35th year of shame, but this time Syrina heard. She waited until her parents fell asleep, and then she killed them both with a butcher knife. The police came to find her, but she had already fled with money, alcohol, and other things. She fled to the wealthy outskirts, but hung out in the slums. One night, she got drunk, and had sex with another woman. Of course, Syrina woke up, and realized she was a lesbian. Normally, there would be no stigma, but the small upper class was pretty discouraging on the subject of homosexuality. Syrina felt horrible, and was conflicted over what to choose- chastity and hiding in the closet, or shunning and being free about her lesbianism. She went with the second choice, and stopped social contact with her rich neighbors. She worked on bounty hunting for all of that time, capturing and killing criminals. She eventually had a lesbian lover, killed by an S-Rank criminal on the street one day. Syrina eventually found the man, and killed him. It has been 2 and half years since then, and Syrina is still sad about her death.

Chi Class: Destructive.

Abilities: She uses two gatling style pistols to fire chi at her enemies. Her specialty is her ability to use fusion in her chi. Although it developed slow, she trained hard enough on her long time as a bounty hunter to develop her specialty. She does have a lot of chi for a 21 year old, but enough to remain in a regular range for an Armania.


Armageddon Blast: She, with her bit above normal amount and control of chi, forms two small orbs in her hands. They then grow in size, and begin to charge. They begin to multiply as well, into nuclei shapes. Then, she fires both now big nuclei of energy at the opponent.

Chi Prison: She uses energy to shock, paralyze and trap the opponent.
Dirty Fireworks: She channels chi into the opponent until they explode. If stopped, it can cause heart attack or permanent paralysis.
Gauntlet: Her chi concentrates in her hands and feet, and each hit with those causes more damage than a normal hit.
Hurricane: Using her guns, tiny chi bullets come out of the guns and into the opponent.

Others will be revealed throughout the RPG.

April 27th, 2008, 4:31 PM

Sorry about adding to the crazy-psycho list of characters... xD; It was my way of making him un-gary-sue, since halfway through his personality I was like, "LOL he's freakishly perfect." ^^;;

Again, sorry.

And in terms of the OoC thread, if you do want to have one, it'd probably be better if we renamed this thread and moved it to the lounge. How's that sound? :x Or would you rather we delete all our stupid OoC's?

Sweet Dreams
April 27th, 2008, 4:47 PM
Too late, Thesis already created an Ooc thread. Just telling you all, since it doesn't appear as if Thesis did herself.

I randomly decided to check, so there we go. Hopefully, this is my last Ooc post in the Rp thread!

Scarlet Weather
April 27th, 2008, 5:21 PM
Too late, Thesis already created an Ooc thread. Just telling you all, since it doesn't appear as if Thesis did herself.

I randomly decided to check, so there we go. Hopefully, this is my last Ooc post in the Rp thread!

.... Er, Dream, I'm a guy. XD

Hmm... Brad, better job this time I'm glad to say. You might want to give the personality field a bit of tweaking, since your character's history seems to be more of a "creates someone who is depressed" style history than a "creates a complete psychopath". Besides, if she had a lover at some point it sounds like she'd be at least mentally stable enough that she wouldn't.... er... "Kill African babies with AIDS for no reason". Your history is much better this time and fleshes out your character, and as for the horns/hair thing... do remember that hair dye is a viable option, and that the horns could be trimmed down by your character if she really didn't want people seeing them. :3

However, I'm going to warn you: your character's personality, history, and appearance seem to be combining to make her somewhat of an "emo Sue". Perhaps either A) toning down her psychopathness just a tad more (for example, you might keep the murder of her parents but alter her personality to make her more thoughtful, perhaps giving her a sense of actual guilt for her crimes, an uncertainty, and a character flaw or two besides complete destructive tendencies). Maybe changing her appearance so she'd seem a little less provocative would help, since one of the more annoying Sue attributes is the complete smuttiness she falls prey to more often than not. I kind of like the whole "lover" story (I don't support the homosexual lifestyle but in this case it adds character depth to a degree) and I like how you managed to give her a "reason" for her crimes beyond sheer madness. So you're improving, and I'm glad. I'll say PENDING to give you time to edit your personality just a tad bit to reflect your history better and make any changes you want to in history. I must say, I'm glad that you're making the effort to improve. :3

Oh, one thing you might want to edit in History- a thirty-five year old Armanian probably wouldn't flee with alcohol and couldn't take a huge amount of money with them. Perhaps changing it to a faked suicide along with an appearance change and a whole "living undercover" story (which would explain why she'd dye her hair and conceal or get her horns surgically removed)? That would make me very happy.

Scarlet Weather
April 28th, 2008, 3:43 PM
OOC: Alright, we're starting because AE is off from the Finnish military for the week, which is excuse enough for me. So I'll be opening this bad boy up for business! Brad, sorry, I'm gonna have to say that you've got another week or so to update your profile or you're gonna have to sit this one out, which I'd rather not have happen *cries*. So get crackin'!



"But I tell you senators, we must destroy Carthage." -Cato, Roman Senator



"Where is that idiot? I ordered him to report half an hour ago!"



"When he gets here, I'm going to rip his arm off."


"Both arms."




The door to the office burst open as a disheveled Armania, surrounded by a veritable windstorm of papers, rushed in and slammed a stack of paperwork that towered over his head onto the chief's desk. "Aah! Sorry, so sorry, I was getting coffee and I lost track of time! Really, sir, I'm terribly sorry!" the silver-haired being babbled, jumping to catch loose papers and hastily rearranging them as his employer looked on with an expression filled with nothing less than frustration in its purest and most potent form. "Sorry... sorry... I was just..." the man continued to stammer before being grabbed by his shirt collar with an iron grip and hoisted into mid-air. "Ch-chief! I really am sorry! I completely forgot about the-" he began before being hurled bodily out the door. Despite the fact that the Armanian body is not known for its aerodynamic properties, he managed to sail through the next room, causing officers to poke their heads out of cubicles or lift hats that had been resting over eyes to stare at the curious missile, before flipping head over heels and skidding to a stop just before he reached the stairs. Picking himself up, the Armania shook his head and with a muttered "Well, that certainly could have gone better..." marched back into the office, dusting off his vest and smoothing the new wrinkles in his starched shirt.

The Chief was waiting for him angrily, the stare in his yellow eyes still one that conveyed extreme distaste. Growling, he stalked out from behind his desk with a snarl, his yellow eyes snapping as his twitching tail knocked several papers off the desk. His mane-like hair, once tawny gold but now deepened to a duller brown in his later years, seemed to enlarge itself to encase the brown, pinched face. The Armania could see the abnormally large canines- or in the Chief's case, felines- poking from his employer's mouth and was forced to suppress a gulp. "Two hours," the Chief stated flatly as he reached a clawed hand towards the large spear positioned on the front of his desk. "Two hours over coffee. That's what you're trying to say to me?" His voice lowered, became more plaintive in tone. "Walter, Walter, tell me you have a better excuse than that for being late to a meeting concerning national security. Please. I've stuck out my neck to keep you on the force more than once. Please, tell me you didn't spend two hours on coffee break."

"No, of course not!" Walter exclaimed, relieved that he had a chance to explain himself better.

The Chief seemed to relax somewhat. "So, what were you doing?" he growled suspiciously.

Walter beamed. "Brewing tea! After all, a meeting is thirsty business, and-" he was cut off as the flat end of the oversized blade of the Chief's spear slammed into his face, sending him carreening out of the room.

The Chief stared angrily at his twitching officer. "Get up, and get yourself in here," he ordered.

Muttering and sputtering, Walter pulled himself to his feet and entered the room, grabbing at his face. "I think you broke my nose," he complained as blood trickled between his fingers.

"Nonsense. That was barely a love tap," the Chief replied, no trace of emotion registering. He pointed to Walter's desk, a few feet away from his. "Sit," he ordered. After Walter complied, he launched into an explanation of the order of events. "The Hunters who've signed up for this mission should be here any minute now. Your mission is to debrief them, equip them, and move out. You should go to Lowtown first, that's where the informants usually are-"

Walter interrupted. "Me? I'm going too?"

"Of course," the Chief replied, leering at his employee. "You said you needed the money. I assumed you wanted to go, so I appointed you as the overseer of one of the teams."

"But-but" Walter sputtered, "I can't go this week! I'm booked solid! There's the Long Case, the Ecchta case, the Smalls Case-"

"Taken care of," the Chief replied with an imperious wave of his hand. "For now, your only assignment is to take care of business with this DL bastard."

Walter stared in horror at the Chief, just as the sound of someone's footsteps approaching drifted up the hallway...

OOC: Short, I know, but I'm pressed for time and I need to eat. Come in, come in!

April 28th, 2008, 6:10 PM
“Excuse me sir…” The bookstore owner looked rather put out and confused. This strange being that had chosen to stop in front of his store was attracting attention, and therefore, customers, but… who was he? “Ex… Excuuuuse me?” He waved a hand in front of the stranger’s face for a minute. No response. The manager waved his hand up and down. No response. “Hellooo?” He stepped back with a sigh, putting his hands on his hips as he watched the man warily. What was wrong with this guy? Had he died standing up? It wouldn’t sit right with his morals if he’d had. That was the lowest kind of business attraction he could make. “Sir, is everything alright?!” The lithe old man shouted at the top of his ancient lungs, right into the boy’s ear. The crowd around them laughed as the boy continued to stare blankly up at the sign that was swinging slowly, the gentle breeze revealing a high-pitched squeal. The manager made a mental note to oil the rungs, but at the moment, he had a more dire situation on his hands. He tapped his foot, folding his arms in thought. The best way to snap someone out of a daze… of course! The old man snapped his fingers when the brilliant idea hurtled into him like an anvil, jumping into the air and pointing behind the stranger, “FIRE!” He shouted in false terror and fear.

The crowd burst into uncontrollable mirth when the boy continued to watch the sign as though it was the most interesting thing on the planet. Well, the manager wasn’t about to stand around and be ridiculed by a whippersnapper with some serious hearing problems. He turned around, preparing to march back into his store and help his clerks deal with the sudden influx of customers.

“Fire?” A calm voice inquired, “Where?”

The manager spun around to face the stranger, who was staring at him with amazingly large blue eyes. That was… quite the late reaction. Wait a moment, “Oh- Sorry ma’am, I accidentally mistook you for a- well, you weren’t saying anything and I mean… well your hat, and your coat kind of cover…” The manager stammered, revealing his lack of social skills when it came to women.

“No…” The stranger said slowly. Sure the manager was old, but this girl seemed to move at the speed of a turtle as he turned to fully face the old man. Ah, over ten minutes of trying to get her attention. It was about time she acknowledged him! So much for respecting your elders. Back in the day, youngsters actually responded right away when addressed by another- “…I’m not a girl.”

The manager took a double take and shook his head. No, those eyes were definitely female. He took his wiry glasses off and rubbed his eyes, putting them back on. “Eh?!” The boy/girl/it/whatever was gone! Nothing but empty space!! Where had he/she/it/whatever gone?!? The manager had only taken his eyes off he/she/- ENOUGH!

“Excuse me…” The manager’s eyes darted over to his left at the now somewhat familiar voice. So that’s where the rascal had run off to! Courting a girl, was he!? … Oh, no, that was an old woman. “Do you know how to get to this place?” He held up a slip of paper and pointed at the location written at the top. A very detailed map was printed underneath it, and the passerby who had chosen not to complete her role as a passerby for almost fifteen minutes now sweatdropped. It had the best path to take highlighted in bright, bold red marker. Very obvious, very straightforward.

“Well you just… follow… the red line…” She stated, unsure of herself. After all, it was an obvious fact and really, there was no better way to describe it.

“I thought so but…” The stranger shifted his eyes from the paper to the road, a furrowed brow revealing a bit of distress onto his previously calm expression, “It says there should be a red line but….” He looked back and forth a few more times before the manager’s jaw dropped to the floor. This guy was a total nutjob. Right out the asylum into the city streets, for sure. Who the heck would think there would be a freaking red line- nevermind.

“OF COURSE THERE’S NO RED LINE ON THE ROAD!!” The manager sent a karate chop down on the crazy teen's head, intent on setting his brainwaves back in place. His eyes fell out of their sockets when he realized that his signature ‘old-man-killer-chop’ had missed and instead started the first stroke of a back massage.

The boy’s wide blue eyes stared at the manager for a moment in surprise, his head tilted to the side after having automatically dodged the assault. “…Really??” The male (or whatever,) was in pure shock and awe when he asked in the same ethereal, lofty voice he'd been using for the past few minutes about the red lines. He'd really been convinced he'd find a red line on the ground? Then why had he been looking up at the sign...?

The manager had seen crazy people before. Heck, he’d seen plenty of weirdo’s in his time. He was old, after all. But this guy… really topped the cake. “That’s strange…” He was muttering to himself as he looked at the map, having somehow reappeared on the opposite side of the street, “Then if there’s no red line…? Maybe there’s a trick to this…”

“…And that’s why I’m late.” Luka said, holding up an index finger as-a-matter-of-factly to the man in uniform who was staring at the hunter before him in disbelief, “I’m sorry, I have a tendency to get lost really easily… the red line is extremely misleading. But… please forgive me, I’m normally.. very punctual.” Luka bowed, pulling his hat off in respect and apology.

“Er, I think you’re looking for the Chief.” The doorman replied to Luka’s long-winded story. He sure as heck didn’t care whether the guy in front of him was two or ten hours late. And it sure was weird, getting bowed to so politely. And why did this guy pause so much in the middle of his speech? What a whacked out hunter. Was he even a hunter? Looked like you could break him in half with your bare hands. He was… twiggy. Yeah, that was a good description.

“Oh?” Luka tapped his lips with his index fnger lightly after sweeping his Gatsby hat back on, “…That’s strange. They said he had brown hair.”

“A lot of people… have brown hai- …air??” The doorman looked around, suddenly standing all by himself again. He’d blinked and the weirdo was gone! He raised an eyebrow before settling back into position. Oh well. Whatever. Let the dude get lost for another three hours or so. He’d be back with a new story eventually.

Escorted by a man who’d been on his way past the Chief’s office anyway, Luka found his way through the building with much more ease than he had in town. Being the wanderer type who picked up odd jobs whenever he found himself in front of an administrative office or whatever they were called, Luka didn’t do well with maps, or directions. Wherever the wind carried him, he went. “This is it.” The man opened a door, and Luka nodded in silent thanks. He stood on the side of the door for what might’ve seemed like forever before finally leaning over to stare into the room timidly. His eyes gazed unblinkingly into the office for another span of time in which forever could fit before he finally spoke in a quiet and barely audible tremble.

“……sorry.” Was all he ended up uttering after sharing his story of wandering aimlessly throughout the city for almost over two hours with the doorman.

Alter Ego
April 29th, 2008, 9:08 AM
OOC: Eh-heh-hee...I was hoping to get this posted tommorrow when I'm not constrained by such pesky computer time limitations as I am now, but an opening is an opening and I shall lunge at it. Here goes. x3


The Armania police station was a very lively place to be that morning. Certainly, with the chief's temper and heritage being what they were, a flying employee or too were to be expected, but the tantrum that currently dominated the lobby was of a rather different nature, one which constable Reeves was not very comfortable with at all. A drop of sweat ran down the back of the officer's head to rendevous with its comrades beneath his collar, his eyes fixed on the tiny being who was currently wetting the floor like a sprinkler and wailing like a fire alarm with a mixture of fear and amazement. What voice; how could such a tiny, frail sound be such utter torture to one's eardrums? Didn't anybody else notice it? The way it whizzed around his ears like a never-ending salvo of bullets? The way it went beyond mere hearing, rending into his very soul? Mister, mister, mister, need to go, go, go. Now, now, now. Please, please. It's important! Oh, how he wanted to yell back, to silence that incessant noise like he did with the criminal crowd, but this was different; this was a child, a child in distress, yelling at her was...inconcievable, he felt ashamed for even conceiving the thought, but at the same time there was no way he could admit this child to an audience with the chief. And so he stood there, feeling unarmed and unprotected despite the air gun at his belt, as the bombardment of pleas struck him again and again. Incessantly, mercilessly. And then there were the stares, the little whispers, the disapprovement practically oozing off the ever-growing crowd of spectators around him.

I'm not the bad guy here!

Really, that's just all he wanted them to understand.

I'm not a bad guy.

The officer's lip threatened to tremble in queue with the child's, but he fought it back. This was her arena, even in this distressed state Reeves could see that, trying to outstage her on it was futile. So what was he to do? Just stand there, slack-jawed and shocked?

Not a bad guy.

Oh, couldn't she be quiet? Quiet for just one second? He couldn't think anymore, he could barely see, the noise consuming his thoughts, his soul, resonating off his very being. I need to see him! Why won't you let me see him? It's very important that I get to see him, you know! You're going to be in big, big trouble!

The officer's mouth opened and closed, like that of a fish gasping for air, mouthing his one line of defense again and again as if it were some arcane incantation that would rid him of his tormentor.

Not a bad guy.

Not a bad guy.

Not a bad guy.

"Look." when Reeves finally found his voice, it was weak and worn, ghost-like, almost, but the child immediately silenced herself, here pale green eyes staring attentively at him from the dirtied face, mouth still slightly open in full preparation to start bawling again, "Sweetie, the chief is really, really busy right now. If I take you to him, and he says he's busy, do you promise to be a good girl and sit quietly in the waiting room?"

The child nodded enthusiastically, chirping out a solemn swear on the matter, and so Reeves reluctantly moved his hand in her direction, hoping that this would serve as a calming gesture of sorts. Much to his shock, the creature was attached to the offered limb a split-second later, her unnaturally bright eyes staring right into his and a radiant smile gracing her lips as she wiped the tears away on the sleeve of her oversized shirt.

"Thank you, mister." the creature chirped, "Thank you ever so much! Now let's go-o-o! Hurry, hurry; it's really important, you know!"


Knock, knock.

No response, and voices inside. No doubt his feeble bid for attention had been drowned in the chief's latest tantrum. Reeves' took a deep breath, trying to keep the hand that the child still clung to from shaking. She had quieted for now, at least, but there was something eerie about the way the girl maintained her hold of his arm, staring unflinchingly at him, that almost made him miss the previous tantrum. That settled it; the sooner he got this creature off of him the better.

"Umm...sir, sorry, sir!" he blustered, nearly tripping over the doorstep as he half-leapt inside, "...sorry to disturb your...umm...meeting, sir, I knocked, sir, but there was no response. Anyway, this child, she said that she had something urgent to discuss with you and she was really persistent about it and-I'M SORRY SIR I WON'T TAKE UP ANYMORE OF YOUR TIME PLEASE DON'T HIT ME SIR I'M GOING!!"

His speech thus finished, the distrought officer threw both his arms in front of him as a shield of sorts, trembling violently as he tried to make himself as small and unnoticable as possible while he tried to discreetly edge his way back towards the office door, thankful that the peculiar child had finally let go.

"Sorry I'm late."

The innocent, completely calm voice made Reeves look up for a moment, just long enough to see the child stand there in her mismatched clothes, looking the chief straight in the eye without the least bit of fear in her appearance, and in her hand...the officer's eyes widened; was that a hunter's license?

"But that silly little man wouldn't let me see you, even though I told him it was very important." in a flash, the garagna was confronted with the most endearing pair of puppy-dog-eyes imaginable, their owner hanging her head ever so slightly to signal her shame, "Are you very, very mad at me, chief? I tried to get here as fast as I could, honest."

"I-I didn't..." Reeves protested, "She, you, I thought, I didn't-I-"

"Told you you'd be in trouble." the little girl whispered in a voice too low for any but Reeves to hear before taking a few coy steps further into the room.


At this point, the officer simply gave up, his childlike face folding on itself with a look of extreme fatigue. His shoulders hunched, his lip trembled, and right now he really just wanted to cry as shamelessly and openly as the little girl had a few moments ago.

"...I'll just go clear out my desk, sir."

Scarlet Weather
April 30th, 2008, 6:08 PM
OOC: Eh, kind of wanted everyone to arrive before I continued posting, but I suppose some interaction is now necessary. XD

"AND YOU'D BETTER-" the Chief growled, hurling what seemed to be an oversized dictionary pulled from the inside of his desk after the hastily retreating Reeves. Unfortunately, the Chief's aim was off and the book merely glanced off a wall before ricocheting straight into Walter's stomach. With a strangled "Oof!", the Armania was sent hurtling from his chair to the floor. The Chief stared at him momentarily before beckoning to the two hunters now standing in the doorway. "Well, come in, don't take all day. I've got about three thousand things I need to finish today, and I can't do it if you all are standing outside. Come in, come in!" He waved his spear imperiously in a beckoning gesture, but only succeeded in nearly striking Walter again.

"Er... Chief, sir, you really shouldn't wave your spear around like that...." Walter ventured as he ducked under the blade.

A vein popped out of the Chief's forehead. "What did you say?" he growled.

Walter quickly jumped to his feet and raced out the door, knocking over about half of the paperwork mountain on the Chief's desk as he did so. "Er, ah, Yes, I was just saying that the tea is almost ready! I'd better go and get it, yes!"

When Walter had left, the Chief sat down at his desk, carelessly brushing away the files piled on it in order to get a better view of the arriving hunters. "Ah, yes, I remember you two," The Chief snarled, shifting his gaze between the eyes of two bounty hunters. "Vaness Luka Hebe, Alias Luke, C-Rank." His eyes flashed once. "Imprisoned years ago for first-degree murder, charges somewhat aleviated due to an insanity plea. From all reports, rather blank, and out-of-touch with reality most of the time. You've been known to exhibit some rather shocking personality traits from time to time, but no-one on the force has ever experienced them firsthand. Well, for your sake I hope there's some truth in the rumours about you." He then fixed his eyes on the girl. "And don't play cute with me, girlie. I know you too well. Kindra Glantine, Alias 'Kin', Destructive-class chi user. Criminal rank of D for petty theft and a few... interesting scams." The Chief's expression actually changed to one of embarassment for a moment before he continued. "More well known for your hospitalization of one of our officers. He's still going on about how we need to discharge you and arrest you." The Chief stood up. "You're probably wondering, 'why the hell would the Chief pick a pair of C-Rank hunters to pursue a criminal whose rank just went way past S? Why did he send us an invitation?" The Chief glared. "I'll tell you why. You two are the first two members of a strike force I've concocted. DL's is a crafty bastard, and no mistake. So to bring him down, we're going off-book. We know he has intelligence on everyone above B-Rank, so we chose a team based mostly off of one trait." He stopped for a moment to let it sink it, then continued. "We picked out the B-Rank and below candidates that have surprised us the most over the past few days, then set higher-rankers who have only recently achieved their ranks on the team in order to counterbalance them." He directed his gaze at Luka. "You're the ditziest idiot on the force since that damned-fool idiot who was in here before joined up most of the time, but you seem to be able to gain the confidence of criminals easily, and you execute your jobs quickly and without mercy." Then he turned back to Kin. "And you... your destructive chi seems to be particularly advanced, especially considering your age and the fact that it's rare for an Armania to use anything other than materialization-class in the first place. Not to mention..." here the embarassed look appeared again, "You're more intelligent than most give credit for."

The Chief picked his spear up again and began waving it to emphasize his point. "You all are about to be sent into a danger zone of epic proportions, so-"

It was unfortunately at that moment that Walter waltzed in and announced "Tea's read-eeee! Hot! Hot! Hot!" This last was the result of the Chief's spear blade shearing through the cheap metal of the teapot, sending the hot, brown liquid pouring over Walter's arm. "Owowowow!" he cursed, wringing it. "Chief, why are you always waving that thing."

"Shut up," the chief moaned, covering his face. "Nevermind. Just sit down and wait for the rest of the damn team so we can explain these things."

Walter took a closer look at the other inhabitants of the room. At the sight of the Armanian girl, his eyes lit up. "Hey, Chief, isn't that the girl that you bought that thing from that explo-"

"Don't. Say. A word." The Chief growled, ending the matter.

Alter Ego
May 1st, 2008, 2:50 AM
At the first gesture of invitation, Kin immediately sauntered over to the nearest vacant chair, leaning back into it and dangling her feet a few inches above floor level while she pulled out her regular passtime: a length of wire which she absent-mindedly twisted into various decorative shapes while she listened to the Chief's words.

Introductions, was it? The girl's eyes didn't seem to leave her handiwork even for a moment, even as she snuck a discreet glance at the Hiratana beside her. He was tall, sure, (though to be fair most people looked that way from Kin's perspective) but he was so...skinny. Why his arms were almost thinner than hers, and there was no sign of danger or cunning in his manner, which mostly reminded Kin of a sleepwalker, what with that absent half-smile and the unmistakable message of "Nobody home" in his azure eyes. First-degree murder? He looked too far down the straight and narrow to even steal a paper clip; could this person seriously have committed first-degree murder? Kin had to exercise a considerable amount of self-control not to let her suspicious frown show from beneath the expression of innocent curiosity that she had plastered on her face. If the Chief's intro was to be believed, this guy was either a psychotic whackjob or a schemer of the same caliber as herself. Either way, she'd clearly have to keep a close eye on him. Kin, if anyone, knew how much appearances could deceive and she was not about to let some upstart get the better of her.

The girl's thoughts were soon drawn to other matters, however, as the Chief proceeded to give her introduction, mentioning a certain conviction that she would rather not have had brought up. Within the confines of her mouth, Kin's teeth grit together, adding an ever-so-slightly strained touch to her smile, the Chief certainly didn't mince his words, did he? Instinct told her to intervene and argue that they had gotten it all wrong, that the officer's account was vastly exaggerated in an effort to protect his personal pride, but common sense told Kin that this would not have been a good move. The garagna had obviously had her pegged before she had even stepped through the door - damnable employee profiles! - and he had made it equally clear that trying to play the old spin game would not be appreciated, and so Kin held her tongue, turning her gaze to the wire in her hands instead. Her fingers, it seemed, were not quite as discreet as her face, having begun twisting the object into a garrote, which she now began twisting once more to form the outline of a flower instead. Damn, damn, damn; these first impressions weren't going right at all and it was all his fault. The girl shot her superior or a decidedly slighted glare, though she was quick to follow it up with her usual doe-eyed innocence. She hadn't liked that, not one bit, but on the other hand...he wasn't condescending. Short-tempered, rude, and annoyingly blunt, certainly, but he had done what few others before him had even conceived; he had called her out on her bluff, right off the bat, and there was something refreshing about this approach that made Kin feel strangely mollified. For once, it seemed, she would be dealing with a superior for whom she wouldn't have to dumb herself down to deal with. How interesting, interesting indeed.

It was then that Walter blustered in once more, bringing up a memory that forced Kin to grin down into the half-finished wire-bird in her hands, though she did her best to conceal her amusement from the Chief. Alright, that settled it, he would forgive him for his tactlessness...for now, at least. Feeling more cheerful already, Kin dangled her feet with newfound vigor, humming a merry little tune for herself as she finished the avian silhouette in her hands, pretend-flying it in front of her while waiting for the remainder of the team. If what she had seen and heard thus far was any indication, this mission would certainly be...interesting, at the very least.

Sweet Dreams
May 1st, 2008, 1:37 PM
Walking down the street in a slightly agitated manner, she gathered her cloak about her, looking at the slums of the city. She retraced her steps to guide her back into a more respectable part of town, if unfamiliar. Deciding that she needed directions, she stalked over to a kindly-looking woman who was hanging up her laundry. A small boy was sitting at her feet, preoccupied with the ground.

‘Excuse me, I need directions to the…’ Kay scrunched up her face, trying to remember what the place was called. The woman gasped, staring at her face and the boy looked up.

‘Wow…’ He stared at her face before getting up excitedly. ‘Hey, look, Daniel, Terry, it’s a monster! I told you they were real! See, it’s got fur!’ He shouted, laughing before picking up a stick and starting to wave it at her. She sighed resignedly.

‘I’ll just go, now,’ she told them, swallowing to help combat the urge to swipe an innocent child to the ground. Turning, she walked calmly out of sight as she heard the little boy boast that he defeated the evil monster that came to gobble him up with big, yellow teeth.

She wandered aimlessly, cursing her inattentiveness with the map. She just had to lose it, didn’t she? Finally, she arrived back into a district that she knew of and started to speed up her pace. She was probably late, although for all she knew, she could’ve spent five minutes or five hours travelling alone and lost.

She finally arrived at the place which she called “Bounty Central” in her head, although the place probably had a proper name. The guard stopped her smugly, demanding she turn out her pockets and show her face, waving his baton threateningly. He was obviously green and new at the job. And he was probably not very observant as he seemed startled to find a woman’s voice when she told him to go shove the metal block somewhere inappropriate to utter in the presence of minors. Ignoring him, she shoved past the entrance and through the corridors until she arrived at the Chief’s office.

Seeing that a dreamy-looking teen accompanied by a girl were already there and sitting, she swept in and settled herself in a chair, nodding at the chief whilst fixing him with her natural, unblinking gaze. She was trying to figure out how dangerous the other two were, but just managed to confuse herself so stopped and kept her guard up.

‘Sorry I’m late; the message didn’t reach me in time. I was not in the city,’ she told him, knowing that there was no reason to tell him about getting lost as well. ‘How many more are coming?’ She asked in that lazy manner of all felines.

May 1st, 2008, 3:31 PM
In the small confines of the local pub, a scruffy looking young man sat in his per usual corner, chair tipped on the edges of its legs, propped against the wall as he held a small book in his hands, gently woven between his fingertips. He read casually and slowly, content with himself and his literature as his eyes scrolled back and forth across the insides of a book entitled, Psychoanalysis: The Innards of the Armanian Psyche. The book did no justice in complimenting his outward appearance, only furthering his business-like, weak look. Finally parting from the interest in his book, his left ear popped to attention as he glanced at the walk clock hanging over the bar.

"Son of a... I'm late..." He sighed to himself as he snapped the book shut and slipped it into the pouch on the right of his waist.

This...was Reeth Heirman

Letting his chair come falling to a loud clap on the flat floor he stood up, tossing some money on the table and finishing off the drink in front of him. Surprisingly enough, not alcoholic, just a simple lemonade. A taste denied to him as a child until recent years of becoming a hunter. He let his ear return to its droopy form as he strolled slowly out of the pub and into the dim daylight.

He walked down the street casually, never in a hurry for anyone but himself. Heading to the building, he of course knew the way as he had visited it a few times before. The streets were lined with the usual scenario of people as he walked by. They stared. They pointed. Reeth was used to it by now. He gave the best smile he could muster towards in defense of his person but worked to no avail.

"Armanians... even reading about them, I'll never understand their fragile minds, filled with fear and anxiety. If they knew what I really was, they'd probably crap their pants..." Reeth thought to himself bitterly as a pair of girls gasped while he crossed paths with them.

Finally, he reached his destination. He gave no name to the building, nor did he wish to know its real name. He just wished to get bounty hunting out of his life as soon as possible. Only 3 more names left, hopefully this mission would bring him closer to his goal. It was almost unusual for someone to call him in like this for a mission, but Reeth was never one to look a gift horse in the mouth. Upon reaching the front gate, he looked to the guard who appeared as if he were going to say something. Reeth quickly perked both of his ears at attention which seemed to be enough to intimidate the guard into submission and let him pass with little conflict.

Entering the building, he immediately headed to the room where the chief and others would be awaiting his arrival. He couldn't help but wonder if the chief had warned them of his transformation. Knowing him, someone had already received orders to take him down at the sign of transformation... whatever, let them try it.

He reached for the doorknob, twisting and pushing it open. He stepped into the musty room where, as he assumed, the other bounty hunters were already assembled. They weren't much to look at in terms of basing their skill off appearance, but then again, who was he to be talking? No one would assume that underneath his smooth dress shirt, jeans and flip flops, laid a mass murderer...even if it was out of his control. He tapped the door with the back of his heel, sending it back to its closed state with a loud thud.

"Yo." He said simply and quietly. He didn't feel he needed to apologize for his tardiness since it was only a matter of minutes. He walked across the room to pull a chair and flip it backwards, sitting down and crossing his arms in front of him as the large rifle on his back clattered with movement.

"So... what? Is this it?" He said in an unimpressed tone to no one in particular as he scanned the other hunters. He blew a few strands of hair from in front of his eyes and sat back, watching the others for body movements that would give him some clue to their personality or strengths. He finally looked to the chief, whom even an elementary school kid would have no trouble reading his mood. He was pissed. As usual...

May 1st, 2008, 4:22 PM
Luka flushed, pulling the rim of his hat over his eyes when the Chief described him. He wasn't the murderer, but he didn't know how to explain that, and he wasn't sure if it was even the right explanation. He seemed to shrink away in shame; He wasn’t insane, Luka thought reassuringly to himself, but he flinched when he heard Luke laughing his head off, or rather, just his floating voice that drifted back and forth between his mind bursting with mirth, at the pitiful thought. Denial! Flashed in Luka's mind, big bold red letters. His head sank into his shoulders when the Chief addressed him as a ‘ditzy idiot’, but he was somewhat glad that at least he wasn’t the first. Being the first was the worst, just like the children’s song that was running through his head stated. First was the worst, but… second wasn’t really the best either. Well actually that depended on what you were second at. Luka completely forgot about his embarrassment as he drifted off again, staring at the patch of ceiling above the Chief’s head while he listed scenario’s in which being second-place would be good or bad in his head. He sat up rigid all of a sudden, pointing at the plaster with bright eyes and a smile twitching the corners of his lips up. He’d accidentally let out a squeak of sound “Ah!” that brought him crashing back to earth. Blinking, Luka looked around before noticing that his hand had shot up into the air out of nowhere. Pulling it back silently, he blushed and made no effort to explain himself. He’d just thought of something cool… that was all.

During his trip to dreamland though, another hunter had shown up. No, not one, two. Two Garagna. He stared without shame, his head slowly leaning to the side. Awe was etched all over his face, and only a few minutes after the male garagna had spoken did Luka finally snap out of it, looking determinedly in the other direction as if it could fix any offense he might’ve caused the other species. He’d never really spoken or met a Garagna, mostly just Armanians and Hiratanas. A lot of them were so big and strong it was intimidating. Luka fiddled with his thumbs in his lap before remembering the things that the Chief had said… quite awhile ago at this point.

“… Thank you…?” Luka finally mumbled to the Chief, seemingly out of the blue. He was unsure of whether the fact that he was able to ‘gain the confidence of criminals easily’ was a good thing or not, “Ah but…” Luka’s face froze for a second when he trailed off, his shoulders deflating a little as he completely forgot what he was about to say. He ended it at that, sitting back with his hands resting on top of each other between his lanky legs, he followed the grooves of his gloves with his eyes before scooting back in his seat, somewhat frightened by all these other hunters in the room. He tried to fall back into a daze. Think of something, anything. Garagna’s. How could they stand having fur all over themselves? Did they all have fur all over themselves? Did they even have fur all over themselves? Luka felt a little better again as his mind traced a circle over and over again, forgetting all about the fact that he wasn’t exactly the cream-crop hunter in the room.

“Oh.” Luka snapped his fingers, but it was a dull sort of ‘fwip’ sound rather than a snap due to his warm gloves. He remembered what he’d been preparing himself to ask and had an oblivious sort of attitude when he inquired, “The reward… what is it, between all of us?”

Scarlet Weather
May 2nd, 2008, 8:38 PM
The Chief stared at the other two Garagna, who had just walked into the room. "So, you finally deign to honor us poor, humble officers with your presence, do you, dammit?" He spat, clenching his teeth. "You're late. Half an hour late. What did I ask? Just show up at the damn spot at the damn time and get to damn work and-"

"Chief, your doctor warned you about your blood pressure..." Walter piped up meekly.

"Grr...." The Chief made a series of throttling gestures in the air until the red flush in his face slowly subsided, then made his way back to his desk. "Well, you're here then. Walter, this is your strike force. I expect you to-" The Chief's jaw dropped. Walter had, after pulling up his desk and setting out a few cups, had proceeded to pour what was left of the tea into them and was now offering it to the other members of the group with a slightly sappy smile on his face. With a full-fledged roar the Chief leaped out of his chair, grabbed it, and hurled it at Walter, who narrowly dodged it by dropping to the floor. "DAMMIT, YOU IDIOT! I'M NOT PAYING YOU TO HOLD TEA PARTIES! GET IT TOGETHER, OR-" His tirade was interrupted as tea splashed into his face. The Chief spluttered for a moment, before returning to his seat.

Walter sighed before turning to the group and addressing them. "Alright, my name is Walter Almassy. I know I don't look like much, but I'm one of the higher-ranking officers on the force. I've recently been promoted to hunter rank A," Here he paused a moment for effect before continuing, "For capturing Lyle Solidor, renowned smuggler and a known traitor to Armania. I've been placed over you all for reasons I don't pretend to know or care about, so if you don't like taking orders from me you can take it up with the Chief. Believe me, you'll have better luck trying to argue with a brick wall-" Here he was forced to duck as the Chief launched yet another reference book. Walter had to wonder if the Chief actually read any of those dictionaries, or whether they were intended to be weapons from the beginning. Taking a breath, he managed to return to his discussion. "Anyway, I'll start by answering a few questions. First, you, Mr..." Walter pointed at Luka, snapping his fingers repeatedly as he attempted to attach a name to the face.

"Luka," the Chief supplied in a bored tone as he rolled his eyes.

"Yes, you," Walter stated, "You asked about the bounty. Well, under ordinary circumstances since this is a collaborative effort, we'd be splitting the cash evenly. However, the feds have decided to make a special allowance: Every bounty hunter who actively participates as a part of a strike force like this one will receive the total reward of six million credits, provided that their team is the one to catch DL. Now, I'm sure you all want to know everything the Police know about DL before we start, right?" Walter's eyes twinkled a moment before he answered his own question. "Of course you do. Well, the answer is, we know nothing. Nadda. Zip. Zero. We think he's the head of some flashy criminal organization, but there's no specific proof of it. We don't have fingerprints, handwriting, or accurate voice samples... heck, we don't even know his race, let alone his actual appearance. We're not even sure whether or not DL is just one guy. So, we're going to go somewhere where we can find out more. If you guys have any questions, now's the time to ask them, because as soon as we're finished here everyone in this room is going to Lowtown to pick up information. Got it?"

The Chief smiled. "Well, Walter," he guffawed, "You actually managed to stay on topic for-"

"And on that note, how do you all like the tea? It's my own special blend and-"

Walter hastily dodged yet another salvo of literature from the Chief.

May 7th, 2008, 11:32 AM
Sign Up

Full Name: Xavier Draconia

Nickname: Draco or Blade

Age: 64

Gender: Male

Race: Armania/Hiratana (Have a good reason...)

Appearance: Xavier stands at approximately 6'2", and is well built for an Armania, because of his Mother, Shiira Draconia, who was a soldier who fought in many of Armania's wars. He has a long scar down the left side of a face, running outside of his eye, which he received in a training accident when he was young. Xavier has pale blue eyes which are considered very cold, which take away from his otherwise comely appearance. The horns which are expected in an Armania are not as obvious on Xavier, they jut out only about half an inch, so you have to get quite close to see them. Due to Xavier's Hiratana father, he was born with brown hair, which allowed him to fit in with human's much easier, though when Xavier approached his 20th year, the tips of his hairs changed to the customary silver hue of an Armania. Though the color never spread farther from the ends of his hair, which gives him an appearance which startles many. He has tried many times to dye his hair, either silver or brown, yet his hair for some reason or another has always rejected the dye. Now Xavier keeps his hair down to the middle of his back, to take attention away from this slight silver.

Hunter Rank: E Rank

Criminal Rank: E Rank

Personality: Xavier seems very uncaring and cold to most people, but he is actually a very caring person, though he feels it is better to keep his emotions bottled up, and to observe any potential enemy as they come. When Xavier gets to know someone though, he becomes very committed to the person, and will become hostile to any who treat them badly. Because of his mother's military training, he was taught to be strategic in his planning, and considers all sides of an action before acting, and if he feels he cannot win or break even in a fight, he will just walk away. He is also a very open-minded person, who doesn't care what a person believes, not even when their views differ from his, he also doesn't hold any prejudices toward the Garagana, as a result of him spending several years living with them.

History: Xavier was never supposed to be born... his mother had sworn the vows to never marry, never bear children, and to remain loyal only to the city... But she couldn't be blamed, not for what happened. A man in an opposing army, she would never tell which army, used his chi powers to keep her powers from her reach, and raped her in the aftermath of the battle. She was able to escape after killing this man, and found out, several months later, that she was pregnant... She was planning to abort the pregnancy, but was convinced by her parents to keep the child, and perhaps put it up for adoption, let her decide. When her pregnancy became apparent, she was discharged from the army, though, thanks to an understanding Commander, it was honorable.

When the baby was born Shiira named the child after his great-grandfather, a hero in the first of Armania's wars, Xavier zel'Itien. For the next 20 years of his life Xavier was raised as a fighter by his mother. When he was 21 years old, while at a family gathering, a large group of C-ranked murderers killed his entire family, though Shiira was able to save her son from this fate.

After the murder of his family Xavier ran to the south, to the lands of the Hiratana. He spent another 12 years there living on the fringes of society, making his living by pickpocketing, and perfecting his combat and chi skills. When Xavier was 33 years old, he was captured by a bounty hunter, and then spent a few months in a prison in Armania, when he stole from a rich Armanian merchant.

When Xavier was released from prison, he turned his back on civilization and headed toward Gargar. The journey through the icy waste nearly killed him, and he only survived because he was taken in by a young Gargar woman. He spent only a few years here, but his stay did provide him with insights into the Garagana, as a people. This stay may be the reason for his attraction to Garaganan women, which many consider unseemly.

After Xavier's stay in Gargar, he was finally able to face his past, so he returned to the city, and became a bounty hunter. Xavier has spent the last 28 years hunting criminals, yet has not yet moved up in rank, simply because he doesn't want to be better than anyone, though if he had he would almost definately be a Rank C or B by now. Though this may change in the future...

Chi Class: Materialization/Manipulation


-- Blade- He creates twin blades, one for each hand, he almost constantly has a small trickle of his chi keeping these solid in sheaths at his waist.

-- Blademeld- He melds the aforementioned blades with his hands, the downside is that he cannot use his fingers.

-- Outer Bones- He creates a thin, invisible armor on his skin, which is as hard as bone, though it doesn't last long, and if it is broken, it breaks the skin, and of course his chi is greatly reduced.

Sweet Dreams
May 10th, 2008, 4:22 PM
Kay’s eyes widened slightly at the sum Walter mentioned. Six million credits could buy quite a lot of previously unattainable objects which would make wandering around the city that much more bearable. She listened to the briefing with an attentive air, although she just found that the police didn’t know anything about DL, and they were going to find information. As Walter started talking about tea and the Chief threw a book at him, her mind wandered, partly to search for any questions she may have, and partly because in her experience, most bounty hunters were not that trustworthy – especially the young ones with high ranks, such as the people present before her.

The innocent looking girl twisting a wire of metal into shapes was probably the most dangerous, Kay decided, having seen both criminal and bounty hunter use that tactic. The small boy, Luka, seemed to cower. He might just be an oddly meek and absent-looking child, but was more likely using it as a cover, like the girl. If he was, though, he was extremely good at it. Then, there was the other Garagna. He was probably hiding exactly how dangerous he really was as well, although he was less obvious about it. Underneath the clothes which made him look scrawny yet organized, there was probably yet another belligerent male with many skeletons in his closet.

So, they were probably all dangerous. After deciding this, she reviewed the mission.

Four C-rank hunters were going to go and find information on DL, who was obviously crafty, to say the least. The people that will give them this information have proven they weren’t all that trustworthy. DL himself, or herself… or themselves, probably had armies in his control, if he was such a threat. So he probably had a lot of money to equip this probable army with advanced weapons of some sort, if this army existed.

Kay sighed in exasperation and gave up on that line of thought, although she managed to think of a question.

‘Excuse me, uh, Chief; will the police supply us with better weapons, or will we have to use our own?’ She asked, fine with it either way. It was good to know to what lengths the police were willing to go to, to capture this guy, however. To give C-rank bounty hunters advanced weapons on the off-shot that they may catch the new threat to the metropolis was a rather desperate bet.

Scarlet Weather
May 15th, 2008, 4:11 PM
OOC: Hmm... well, yuoaman, if you are still interested, I have to say ACCEPTED on the sign-up. The "family murdered by random gang" seems a little cliched, but both being the product of rape by a soldier and being the victim of gang violence aren't out of place at all in the setting of this particular RP (kudos for also being the first person to have a character who has a history rooted in the war). Not really overpowered either, which is a huge plus. I'd say that if you want to join, hold off on posting for a little while and I'll give you the word for your character to step in. Nice going there, and sorry for dithering so long. I had told another RPer that the deadline for sign-ups was a certain date, and I felt that it might be unfair to them if I accepted you even though there was never any official announcement. :3

"What? Are you insinuating that your own weapons aren't good enough for you?" the Chief rose in his seat, breath like hot smoke pouring from his nostrils. Immediately Walter dove below his desk in order to avoid yet another of the Chief's wild swings with his ridiculously large spear. "You think we cops are made of money? Half of what we make goes into YOUR bounties, and most of the rest is used for repair and upkeep in this danged city! I CAN'T STAND IT WHEN IDIOTS LIKE YOU AREN'T GREATFUL FOR- AUGH!" The Chief had at some point during his speech leaped onto his office chair, which had just shot from under him and caused the muscular Garagna to fall flat on his face. With considerable effort the aged fighter pulled himself to his feet, rubbing his back and mumbling various complaints about rheumatism and what appeared to be some sort of tribal Garagna curse on old age. Calmer now that he had vented himself, he faced the group again. "No, we will NOT be giving you any weaponry. Even if we wanted to and had the necessary funds, most advanced weaponry is kept under wraps by those old fogies in the Council of Elders. It's the only thing I CAN'T get them to give us officers access to. And believe me, I've tried." The Chief shook his head and sighed wistfully.

Walter poked his head out from below the desk. "Sir," he ventured, "We do have those vibra-cutters in the basement..."

The Chief glared at Walter darkly before he realized his mistake. "Oops... I wasn't supposed to mention that we had possession of those, was I?"

The Chief hefted his spear ang began bearing down on Walter, who cowered beneath the mahogany desk that served as both a place for doing paperwork and a barricade. "I'm going to pull out your kidneys and shove them up your-"


The Chief shook his head and lowered his spear tip, which had been hovering uncomfortably close to Walter's nose. "Alright, you all," he ordered, gesturing to the assembled hunters. "You've got yourselves an interesting little challenge. Looks like somebody's dumb enough to try an attack on the main entrance. Normally I'd have the officers deal with it and put him in a nice, little padded cell, but in this case it's a perfect test of your strength. You want updated weapons? Fine. First one to apprehend that idiot gets to take the ones we've got in the basement out for a spin."

Walter moved to the back window. "For those of you who can handle a ten to fifteen meter leap straight down, this is the fastest way out," he explained helpfully as he opened it. "I'll lead the assault, if you don't mind." With that, he was out on the window's ledge. "I wonder what kind of chi these people have if they're attacking the front door..." he muttered, before crossing his hands and leaping.

The air whistled by Walter as he fell rapidly. Then, just before he hit the ground, he stopped, and bounced for a moment. He grinned as he concentrated momentarily, causing the wires attached to each of his fingertips, which had coiled themselves around a pair of streetlights during his descent, to vanish completely. As he fell the last few feet to the ground he dusted himself off and then calmly strode to the front of the building.

It was a single perp- but he wasn't a pushover, by the looks of him. Lithe, well-built muscles, and an ornate headband bearing a star-shaped symbol that Walter dimly recognized as a graduating present to students of a certain dojo spoke of a background in martial arts. The paralell cross scars on either cheek and on his shoulders, exposed due to the missing sleeves of his tattered red shirt, said that he had entered several fights. The hairstyle, which resembled nothing so much as a curly, black ball of lint, suggested that he perhaps laboured under the delusion that it was actually thirty years earlier than the current calendar date indicated, or that he simply didn't care about fashion. Perhaps, Walter mused, that was why he had become involved in so many fights. What interested him most about the man was the fact that each time he attempted to break through the main door of the Station- a futile effort, since the portal had been reinforced with galvanized steel years ago- blue sparks surrounded his hands and seemed to lance off into the sidewalk with each blow, which was probably one of the reasons that pedestrians had given him a wide berth. Walter decided to take the initiative. He walked up to the man's back and tapped it. "Excuse me, sir? If you have an appointment with the Chief, it's best to simply show your ID to the girl at the front desk and walk in the usual way, as opposed to setting off the alarm."

The man whirled angrily, though he relaxed a bit after taking in Walter's appearance. "Oh. Who are you, the Chief's secretary? Lay off for a minute, I'm busy here." With that, he returned to pummeling the doorway, only to turn as Walter tapped his shoulder again. "WHAT'S WITH YOU?"

The man stared a moment. Where Walter had been moments before, the street was completely empty.


The man's hand leapt to his cheek as he felt a stinging sensation, and came away bloody. Somehow, one of his scars had been ripped open. "What?" he growled.

Walter stood several feet away from his quarry, one arm extended in front of him, with several shining wires attached to his hand, one of which was now dyed red with blood which quickly trickled to the street below. The Hunter tutted. "Dear me. I rip open an old wound and all you do is get annoyed? Most people launch some sort of counterattack by now. I must be losing my touch," he announced, in a very bored, matter-of-fact tone."

The man growled. "You want counterattacks, eh? Take some... of THIS!" With that, a blue glow seemed to radiate from him as sparks shot from his fingertips and began to travel the length of his body. A sadistic grin crossed his face as he lifted one hand and snapped his fingers.

Walter leapt to the side, narrowly evading a bolt of blue lightning which caused the lamp-post directly behind him to explode in a fountain of sparks. "I see... a destruction user who translates their chi into electric current. Interesting," Walter mused. "I suppose that attacking you while that current is being generated is just asking to be electrocuted, hmm?"

The man grinned, but said nothing as he charged for another assault.

"Nonetheless..." Walter continued, "Your attacks are no good if they don't contact me."

The man smirked. "Then I'll make sure this one won't miss."

"Whatever," Walter replied in a bored tone.

Fully charged, the strange attacker prepared to snap his fingers and launch another bolt- and stopped. He looked up, and barely managed to evade a falling sculpture, which smashed into the ground directly in front of him. He stared at the shattered gargoyle, and looked up to see the walls of the Police Station, and the neatly-sliced base of the statue, then back at the wires of his opponent.

Walter stared in surprise. "You dodged that? Well," he grinned as he lifted his hand, displaying the wires on it proudly, "This may be fun after all."

OOC: Yah, alright, couldn't resist doing something somewhat non-ditzy with Walter, but he's actually a little in over his head. Basic overview of the guy- he uses electricity to augment attacks, and charges up and fires lightning bolts. When he shoots a bolt, he's unprotected until he can gather charge. And he's a student martial artist. So... proceed with caution, yah, and have fun taking him on. :3

May 15th, 2008, 7:28 PM
Reeth sat and listened to the chief explain their mission. It was the basic run down but he couldn't help but feel that something was different about this mission. He was getting more and more excited about about knocking number 1 from his list. After taking him down, #2 and 3 would be cake. Soon enough he would be free of this terrible world he was thrust into.

The other Garagana girl sat across the room from him, she didn't look like she was any sort of threat at all... almost a disappointment but who was he to talk since he didn't have much threat to his appearance either. He looked at his nails, making sure they were up to their usual sharpness. It was then that the chief mentioned the reward. Reeth's ears barely perked at the sound of the giant reward. It was enough to live well but who cares when he still had 2 more bounties to get before achieving freedom.

"Excuse me, uh, Chief; will the police supply us with better weapons, or will we have to use our own?" the other Garagana piped up after the briefing.

"What the hell... is this girl totally new to this? Provided weapons? How did she even make it this far..." He thought to himself as he eyed her down unimpressed by her actions so far.

Suddenly the chief piped in. A small mission and test of our strength before the actual mission takes place. An assault outside of the gate... who would be dumb enough to attack this place, seems kind of random but oh well. A small obstacle before the real mission starts. A prime opportunity to show his skills and let everyone know his abilities. He instantly sprang into action and dashed through the hall ways out to the streets where one of the other hunters had already encountered the threat. This being the case, Reeth still wasted no time. He wouldn't waste the energy involved in using his best attack, that would need to be saved... his ace in the hole couldn't be revealed quite yet...

"This shouldn't require the Feral Claw.... this guy is a small fry..." He said quietly to himself as he took hold of the butt of his rifle but it was then that he saw the mass of a man clap both of his hands together as sparks began to fire wildly through the air.

Reeth jumped aside back and forth quickly while dodging the dancing bolts of lightning. That kid was definitely in way over his head. The man raised his right arm high into the air, and moved with incredible speed, about to land a lethal blow on the young bounty hunter ahead of him.

"Damnit.... am i seriously suppose to be working with these amateurs?" He thought to himself as he released hold on the butt of his gun momentarily and flexed his right arm. The tips of his claws began to glow a soft blue neon. "Ugh... here it goes..."

"FERAL CLAW!" He screamed as he bolted from his position at incredible speed, showing off his melee talents and slicing down the criminals arm, causing him to hobble to a stop as his arm fell limp from loss of nerve connection. Reeth skidded to a quick stop next to the other young bounty hunter as he quickly twirled his rifle around his neck and leaped to the side of a nearby building and dug his still glowing claws into the side of the building, placing a firm hold in the brick. He aimed the rifle with the other hand, taking quick and careful aim. With the massive temporarily crippled man in his sights he fired the bullet and snickered to himself in his mind.

"Hah...a projectile made from super compressed air through reinforcement... the sheer rarity of a 'gun' as the salesman called it with the perfect system of mechanics involved in its construction makes for the perfect piercing long range weapon..." He thought with a sinister grin as he took his one handed aim. "And with that... my criminal friend. You've caused enough trouble for me. I'll be taking the use of your right arm as collateral for wasting my time." He said with a slight tone of irritation.

With that he fired the rifle with a loud blast, the weapons only downfall. The super compressed air always let loose a loud explosion upon firing, giving away his location. He had to make every shot count. The air seemed to visually bend as the shot was fired, creating a small vacuum as it penetrated the man's shoulder and erupted from the other side. Reeth sneered as the familiar sight of a limb with no more nerve connections hung from the man's socket. Completely useless. But this only seemed to anger him more, the left arm began to charge with electricity ready to aim at the newly arrived assailant, Reeth. He could only hope the other hunters weren't completely useless as he had severely under estimated this target's strength and willpower. The next attack from the man was going to be a big one.

Reeth slid down the side of the building, carving lines through the brick with his nails as he descended. He hit the ground and dashed to the side of the other hunter.

"this is gonna be big... take cover or defend yourself...."

Alter Ego
May 17th, 2008, 5:15 AM
Kin remained faithful to her cute little girl appearance during the meeting, sitting calmly in her seat with the tea cup clutched in her hands while observing the chief's antics with a mixture of amusement and exasperation. All this talk and they were getting so little done - well, unless you counted spreading the chief's neatly organized literature collection across the office as getting things done - so what it basically boiled down to was that they were to hunt down a person of unknown race, age, gender, and origin who may or may not have belonged to a criminal organization because he/she/it had sent some silly little note to the big, bad officials? The petite bounty hunter suppressed the urge to giggle at this. For all their pomp and balderdash, the council members were still nothing but a group of scared old geezers, jumping the gun at the first sign of threat to their rule.

But then, Kin conceded with an inward smirk, that was just the way she liked them; the easily scared also tended to be easily coaxed into paying ludicrous fees, as had been effectively proven by the bounty Walter mentioned.

Daintily sipping at the tea (it was rather good, she had to admit), Kin leaned back as the Garagna girl - whatever her name was - cautiously inquired about weapons. Even though she wasn't that closely acquainted with the chief, the petite bounty hunter had been around the police station long enough to hear the rumors, and as such the Chief's latest burst of temper didn't particularly surprise or impress her. The mention of vibra cutters did little to change this; after all, when you had spent your childhood looking at chi-propelled missiles capable of annihilating small towns, most tools that could be wielded with relatively small effort by a regular human didn't tend to impress much.

Even the alarm seemed to do little faze Kin, the armania girl calmly finishing her tea while the battle raged outside, placing both cup and saucer aside before getting up from her seat, only to dash off at full speed, calling "last one down is a rotten egg!" over her shoulder.

Not being in possession of handy wires or supernatural strength, Kin took a good while to make her way through the hordes of confused people running back and forth through the police station, office workers running for cover while officers scrambled for their weapons and barked orders at each other, and as such, the battle was already well underway when she stepped outside.

Well, Kin concluded at the sight of her opponent-to-be, this guy's chi class certainly wasn't any secret, what with the massive electric charge dancing around his body, smaller shocks striking the already scarred pavement around him at random intervals. A destructive user...her least favored match-up. Now, on one hand the twerp was practically crying for a blasting vein, and with the pavement as cracked and damaged as it was, the shrapnel would be more than enough to finish this, but on the other...Kin grimaced, with that single act she'd be forced to say goodbye to her 'cute little girl' image for good, and she couldn't do that, especially in such a public place, so what should she-?


Kin's musings were cut short as the rogue chi user suddenly dashed towards her with uncanny speed, the one, good arm grasping her waist, the electricity around it crackling so close to the girl that it made the hairs at the back of her neck stand at an end.

"Think you're so clever, HUH?!" the man bellowed, smirking smugly at Reeth and Walter from behind his newfound hostage, "Well, now I'm the one calling the shots around here, so unless you want to see the little girly here get fried to crisp, you'd better drop your weapons and stay right where you are. That stung just now, you know?" he snarled in Reeth's direction, nodding at the gun in his hand, "Well let me tell you, doggy-boy, before we're done here I'll have taken every last bit of that pain out of your flea-bitten-"

"Hey, mister, you'd better let go."

The electricity-user's tirade was briefly interrupted by the cold, emotionless voice Kin had applied, but he soon regained his previous fire "Shut up, girlie." he snarled, "Me and the hounds over there are talking things over like adults, so you just shut up and be a good little hostage or-" it was then that he caught onto it. Though they were generally regarded as rather barbaric as chi users went, practitioners of the destructive style did hold an edge over their peers; being used to handling large amounts of raw chi as they were, they also tended to grow quite sensitive to other large gatherings of such - or, failing that, get blown to smithereens in ill chosen duels with other destructive users; it was an evolutionary process of sorts - and the build-up within this little girl definitely fell under that category.

"I said you'd better let go." Kin repeated calmly, no longer bothering to hide the chi she had assembled, the energy settling around her delicate body and giving it the illusion of being in the middle of a violent fire, "Right. Now."

"You, you're-?"

The miscreant was given no time to finish his question as Kin released her attack, a blindingly bright orb of energy briefly enveloping her, accompanied by an ear-deafening bang and a powerful wave of heat and dust that obscured her from view while her would-be captor was sent flying towards the nearest wall like a rag doll. Impressively, he managed to perform a defensive roll of sorts in the air, altering his path enough to avoid the brick wall and landing in a lidless bio-trash can instead. His concentration had been broken, however, sending the giant lightning bolt he had built up crashing into the aforementioned wall, the better part of which had now dissolved into a mess of molten brick and mortar.

Breathing deeply, Kin slowly rose up from the ground, a perfectly circular crater of about two meters' radius now surrounding her. That hadn't gone right, not at all. Not only had she been forced to drop the harmless act, but in such a way too! The rage buster was supposed to be the final ace up her sleeve, a finishing attack to pull out when and only when nothing else would do, yet here she had gone and fired it off at some two-bit brawler, and right in front of her teammates too. Inwardly cursing her panic reaction, the petite bounty hunter turned to the two others.

"I told him to let go." she explained innocently, "Anyway, let's go pick that guy up and hand him over, okay? Last one there is a-"

"I'm...not...DONE yet!"

Shocked, Kin quickly spun on her heels, just in time to see the mystery assailant clamber out of the trash container, sparks of blue still dancing around the fingers of his one, good hand. As he reached a shaky foot down towards the ground, the trash mound beneath his other gave away, however, sending him tumbling forward and provoking another defensive roll - though this one was far less graceful than the one that had saved him in the air, ending with a rather painful landing on his behind. The lightning-user didn't seem bothered by this, however, gathering what remained of his pride and rising to his feet once more, energy gathering around his arm once more.

"It's going to take more than a cheap shot like that to take me down, girlie." he panted, swaying lightly, "Come on! DO YOUR WORST!"

Kin rolled her eyes at the rather pitiful sight in front of them, preparing what little of her chi had managed to regenerate for use, "Doesn't this guy ever give up?"

May 17th, 2008, 9:39 PM
Luka stared down at the teacup in his gloved hands, being one of the only people left in the room. "... This is good..." He mumbled, taking a sip as he contemplated what he'd do with six million credits. Maybe he'd just retire. The doctors said it was bad for him to be out and about, after all. He stared up at the ceiling, choosing not to hear the warning about attacks, or the Chief's decision for them to show their stuff. He didn't want to fight anyone unless it was his job. He wasn't getting paid to stop the attacker, so it technically wasn't a job- it would be a favor. He took another sip. This tea reminded him of something. Maybe it was something he'd eaten earlier? Another sip. The grilled chicken sandwich that he'd had for lunch? No, he'd eaten that yesterday... right?

"Last one down is a rotten egg!"

Luka's head snapped to attention at the mention of egg- it was food, and therefore, on the same wavelength as his brain at the moment. He tilted his head to the side, his wide eyes confused, "...Am I a rotten egg...?" He looked around, "Oh." No, thank goodness. The Chief and the Garagna girl weren't down there either. He didn't really want to fight. But if he would suddenly turn into a rotten egg, it would be better if he fought, right? Well, she'd never said anything about fighting; just about going down there.

"Can I go through the front door or do I have to go through here...?" Luka wondered aloud, peering over the edge of the windowsill down at the fight, calmly drinking his tea as he watched. He pulled his neck back into the room as he blinked in surprise at a bolt of chi that had been fired into the air. Hm. That was a little close. He turned around and sat down again. Well, the Chief didn't seem like he was going to be going down, so if not everyone went down, then there wouldn't be a last person to be the rotten egg, right?

Suddenly two words that the Chief had said much earlier hit Luka like asteroids.

Padded Cell.

In the blink of an eye Luka, was sitting inside a white padded cell, his arms tightly wrapped together in a straight jacket. He looked about fearfully, struggling against the chair he was chained to. It was like all the room in the air had been sucked away- being locked up again, after working so hard to escape the people in white jackets holding clipboards and watching him day after day, night after night. And then when he blinked again, he was back in the office, with his arms straining painfully around himself in the same position as if he were dressed in a straight jacket, his back pressed into the chair as though he were chained to it. He fought to catch his breath, gulping in air as he mumbled, "S-Sorry." Pulling the brim of his hat over his eyes he slumped down into his seat, shaking violently as he searched for something to distract him.

He knew he was easily distracted- it would be easy to take the illusion off of his mind if he could just find something interesting.

"I-I'll go... see if..." Luka scrambled out of his chair without finishing his sentence, holding his head down as he rushed out of the office, using the door even though he could've easily made the jump.

Seconds later, he walked back into the office and sat back down, blushing now in embarrassment. He didn't seem to find it necessary to explain that he had no idea how to get out, other than the window, which he was sane enough to know he wouldn't be able to land in his current state.

"Ahhh, you're useless." Luke's arrogant voice echoed in the confines of Luka's mind as Luka nodded in agreement. It looked as though he was nodding at nothing though, considering that Luka was the only one who could hear Luke's belittling comments.

Scarlet Weather
May 31st, 2008, 10:22 AM
OOC: Well now, I've been lazy, haven't I? XD

"I'm not done yet!" The criminal declared, pulling himself up from where he had been unceremonially dumped by the force of Kin's attack. Suddenly, he screamed in pain as five long, shallow cuts appeared along his stomach.

"Actually, you are," Walter remarked in a bored tone. "You let down your guard and forgot to channel chi over your entire body instead of just your arm. Did you want to get hit with an attack, or are you just stupid?" He flicked his hand again, sending the five wires attached to him slashing across the criminal's legs. The man cursed and then buckled, but not before releasing another bolt of electricity, which arced harmlessly over Walter's shoulders as the experienced hunter instinctively ducked. With another wave of Walter's wrist, three wires wrapped themselves around the criminal's remaining functional arm before he pulled back, causing a sickening pop as the limb was pulled from its socket. "Game over," Walter remarked, somewhat dissapointed. "And here I was thinking that a criminal who attacked the front door would be strong enough to at least withstand an attack from a C-Rank hunter. Really, you're not very good at this, are you?" His sneer provoked the criminal, who made a very dangerous mistake: despite his injured limbs, he attempted a head-on attack, much of his energy having been used up in the attack that was sent into the wall. With a simple wave of his hand, Mark sent his wires trailing out in front of him just in time for the criminal to run into them. The man collapsed, thin cuts across his entire torso.

Walter nodded to Kin and Reece. "Good job, you two," he commended them. "There might have been trouble if I had to take him on alone. Having you two here made it this much easier to deal with him." Stepping over to the criminal, at this point unconscious from shock, Walter slung the man over his shoulders. "Come on, we'd better bring him in to the Chief."


"So, this is the guy?" the Chief asked, staring at the criminal, whose continuing unconsciousness was ensured by the fact that a sedative usually reserved for charging rhinos had been emptied into his system. Not enough to slow his heart or damage him in any way, of course, but enough to ensure that he would be kept asleep for quite some time.

"Yes, sir," Walter replied respectfully. "He tried to break through the front door with his bare hands. You'd think he could just knock."

"Interesting..." the Chief muttered, before standing up. "Alright, the five of you, move out. I believe you said you were going to Lowtown?"

Walter was startled. "But Chief," he protested, "What about this guy? If he's connected with DL, he might have information that could-"

"I'll have an interrogation team see what they can drag out of him, and get word to you all if he does know anything," the Chief replied gruffly, waving off Walter's protests. "We've wasted enough time already. All of you need to get a move on as quickly as possible." He glared angrily at all five members of the hastily-formed strike team, particularly at the two who hadn't actually participated in combat. "Don't make me regret allowing any of you to pursue this case, do you hear me?" he growled. "If any of you do something that further compromises our position, I will personally grab your hunter's license and rip it into quarters, then feed it to my pet. Now get out!"

June 5th, 2008, 1:32 PM
ooc: You're not the only one. xD There wasn't much to do, so my post is painfully short. :/ Didn't want to be the one to initiate the migration to Lowtown, since I don't know anything about it. xD;

ic: Luka stared at Walter, an innocent look that was a mix between awe and confusion. How could he be so calm with such a scary person on his shoulder? Luka moved his eyes to the slumbering face of the man who'd caused the earlier commotion, keeping his face frozen in the tilted position from earlier as he registered the man's face. Luka shook his head, unable to recognize him. Feeling a little better, Luka settled back into his seat, keeping a wary eye on the unconscious man as he pulled his hat further down on his head, finally tuning into what the Chief was saying for the first time. Luka sat up straight at the Chief's threat to rip his license into pieces and furrowed his brow. Luka swallowed the contempt in his mouth and stood up at once, his arms trembling and shoulders tense as he glared at the Chief.

Luka quickly calmed down at a snippy voice in his head, his face turning from agitation to a defensive frown. His shoulders relaxed and Luka started breathing again. The Chief probably meant no harm, right? Luka chewed on the inside of his right cheek, thinking of a saying he'd heard a lot of people say. Better safe than sorry. He didn't really get it, but it probably applied in this sense.

Luka didn't want to stay anywhere near a man who had the power to take his license away. But he couldn't get to Lowtown on his own without getting lost. He lowered his gaze to the ground, and pointed at the door. The troubled teen stepped away from the Chief quietly, jabbing his index finger towards the hallway, indicating his desire to leave for their destination, and also indicating that he was actually quite aware of the fact that he become more lost in unfamiliar territory with every step he took. If his license was at stake, he couldn't go and get lost immediately, he reasoned with himself. Best to let someone else lead the way.

June 5th, 2008, 5:41 PM
Reeth stood at defense while he awaited the criminals move but it never came. One of the other hunters showed up, immediately teaming with the one who was already present and defeated the criminal with apparent ease.

"Hmpf... I guess the team knows a bit more than they appear to at least..." He thought bitterly to himself as the criminal was brought into custody. Reeth followed the others back inside.

The debriefing of the sudden incident was short but sweet and although some of the other hunters questioned, very little was found out about the scenario. It definitely gave Reeth an odd feeling. There was no time to dwell on this matter though as the Chief proceeded to boot them out of the office and on their ways to begin the mission.

Reeth wasted no time after the Chief's tirade in vacating the room. He stood up silently, tightening the buckle that held his rifle and walked casually out the room with ears drooping with disinterest in the rest of the team. Upon exiting the building, there was already a small crowd curiously gathered around the scene of the battle with many policeman attempting to control the mindless herd of pedestrians.

"You petty Armanians... so engulfed in your perfect simple lives that our life risking fight will be nothing more than a newspaper story or gossip tomorrow for you. Disgusting." Reeth commented bitterly aloud as he walked down the steps of the building. He stopped at the base of the stairs and quickly about faced with an impatient look on his face and tail wagging slowly behind him, showing his anticipation to leave. He watched the door, aggravated, waiting for the other hunters to show themselves.

Sweet Dreams
June 9th, 2008, 1:04 AM
Kay nodded, satisfied with the Chief’s answer. It had been expected, but she had learnt that people could be crazy. The slightly ditzy Walter revealed the fact that they had vibra-cutters and that he wasn’t supposed to tell them about it. The Chief, of course, was set on disembowelling him before the alarm rang.

All the other hunters except the nervous kid and the Chief jumped up at the challenge. Kay listened to the sounds and shouts of the fight passively, her eyes wandering lazily around the room. There were three hunters out there taking on some dolt that had tried to attack the station via the front door. With their enthusiasm, she wouldn’t be needed. And they wouldn’t want her. Besides, her mere physical strength and agility would look rather unimpressive against the others’ Chi attacks.

After some notably loud bangs and blasts, the trio of hunters that had gone out dragged in a guy and dumped him on the floor. Then, they were ordered to move out to Lowtown by the Chief. With a threat of revoking their licenses to spur them on, the canine Garagna and the still nervous kid seemed to show even more enthusiasm. Kay’s tail twitched and she padded out the room and away from the short-tempered Chief to the front door.

Outside was a scene of destruction and mayhem with a crowd of mainly Armanian citizens trying to take a look and find out the interesting news. They were barely being held back by some officers. The young, canine Garagna muttered something under his breath in a repugnant tone. Idly, Kay practised retracting her claws, the sound of which resembled the sheathing or unsheathing of a knife. Ears and tail twitching slightly in impatience, she waited for those that probably considered her to be worthless and a coward.

Alter Ego
June 24th, 2008, 5:35 AM
OOC: Sheez, I've been procrastinating horribly with this RP, haven't I? >.< Gomen nassai, I've just been having serious problems with figuring out something worthwhile to write. Oh well, here goes. :3


So...just how do you tell the difference between master and pet in that one?

With well-rehearsed routine, Kin forced back the scathing retort from the tip of her tongue, slowly rocking back and forth on her heels instead as she listened to the chief's final words. The garagna's spontaneous threats and outbursts had been humorous at first, but they were starting to tire her, and as such she gladly welcomed the excuse to leave, being among the first to skip out of the office when they were sent off. Much to her annoyance, however, Reeth decided to take up the mantle of 'smelly, ranting beastman' the moment they got outside, spewing out a miniature presentation on Armanians that could be described as racist at best. Repressing a strong urge to smack her teammate across the head and tell him to stop being such a bigoted git, the petite bounty hunter spoke up in a clear, solemn voice instead, sounding very much like a school girl reciting a learned citation for the class.

"Ah, proud garagnans, you live like wildfire, raging through the forest of civilization in a desperate bid to sear your names onto it, unaware that the fruits of your struggle shall become nothing but nourishment for the trees' next saplings."

Smiling innocently, the girl tilted her head towards Reeth, "Edward LeBlaque, 'Conversation with the Garagna'." she cited with the giddy excitement of a student who had nailed the answer to a particularly tricky pop quiz question, "I didn't know you had read that book too, mister not-so-tall-dark-and-gruesome. It was kind of boring, though, don't you think? All big, fancy metaphors and no pretty pictures at all. Isn't that boring?" she turned to Luka in search of confirmation, pouting adorably, latching onto the male's arm for good measure - after all, a human shield could always come in handy should the wolf-man's temper get out of hand, "Just walking here and being all doomy and gloomy is boring too. Come on!" she tugged at her chosen victim's sleeve, "Let's get this mission staaaarted already!"

Scarlet Weather
June 25th, 2008, 4:50 AM
Walter frowned. Even in somewhat of a daze, he could see the obvious tension between Reeth and Kin, and tension this early in a mission meant two things: First, the group dynamic was in trouble. In order to work together, a team of hunters had to be ready and willing to trust each other with their lives at all times, not to mention the guidance of the leader. Second, it meant that Walter was going to have a bigger headache than he thought by the time this mission was over. Resting his forehead on his right hand he sighed and muttered "Oy, vey.... why me..." before walking to the head of the group. "Well, everyone, just a question- how many of you have been to Lowtown for information before? I'll assume most of you, but just in case, I'll tell you the three places you'll probably want to hit. If you'll direct your attention to this piece of paper..." Walter fished a crumpled piece of notebook paper with a few crude directions and street names scribbled on it. "We'll be splitting up into two separate groups," he explained, pointing at the crude drawings. "Let's see...." Walter eyed over the motley crew quickly before deciding on the groups. "Let's see... you two.... who I forget the names of..." he muttered under his breath pointing at Reeth and Kay. Hopefully, by pairing the two Garagna up, he could provide a temporary fix to the tension between Reeth and Armanians. "I'll just call you Wolfie and Kitty, alright? It's easier to remember," he decided before fishing yet another crumpled piece of paper out of his pocket. "You will be looking for this man. You'll probably find him in The Steel Bottle. You know that one..." Walter searched for the appropriate word for a moment before deciding on "...club." With that, he tossed the paper to Reeth.

The drawing was crude enough, bearing more resemblance to a turnip than an overweight man, but the name at the bottom was printed clearly enough- "Anderson. Age 45, Blood Type O+, speaks three languages fluently. Distinctive piercing just below left eye. Carries weapons. Extremely foul temper."

Next, Walter surveyed the rest of the team. "Now Kin and... Luka, was it?" Walter asked, unaware that his ability to remember the names of his Hiratana and Armania team members and not the two Garagna would probably damage his power base as leader even moreso than it already was, "You and I will be going to the slums," he explained, "And deep into them too. Be on your guard, though I'm pretty sure I don't have to warn you about that. We're looking for this man," and with that, another crumpled piece of paper flew out of Walter's pocket.

Once again, the drawing resembled a crude representation of a scarecrow more than it did an Armania wearing a stained overcoat with a sour expression, but the writing was easy enough to understand. "Van Schroider. Age 90, had police training, usually armed. Hair dyed different colors periodically. Probably not a good idea to surprise him."

"Alright, is everyone ready? Let's go! Remember to report in with your cell phones if you find anything," Walter finished, smiling hesitantly.

OOC: I have this feeling that Reeth is going to kill Walter one of these days. And sorry it took so long for such a lame post, I wanted to be sure everyone was on the same page before we got going.

June 25th, 2008, 8:54 AM
What kind of reaction was he supposed to give? To being faced head on with a real Gargana and a petite Armanian hanging off his arm? Luka couldn't provide himself the answer, and all Luke was doing was laughing at him. Flushing in frustraton, Luka mumbled under his breath in a pitiful way, "You could at least say something..." It took him a few seconds to realize he'd said it out loud, because Luke's laughter doubled in volume. He looked wildly from the Armanian to the Gargana's, "O-Oh, s-s-sorry. Um... um..." Luka sifted through the contents of his memory, trying to remember what it was that the Armanian had asked, ".... Er..." he repeated hopelessly, pulling his hat further down as he realized that he'd probably been too proud of himself on getting out of the office without getting lost to hear anything that had passed between the Gargana and Armanian. He looked up with hopeful eyes when Walter showed up. His words were more important, right? That meant that Luka didn’t have to say anything, right? Luka breathed a sigh of relief, before freezing up.

“E-E-Exc-cuse m-m-me…” Luka stumbled through his words, looking down at Kin and pointing at his arm and her grip. "Wha-" Although this time he wasn’t able to finish what he wanted to say because Luke turned his attention to Walter’s instructions, wrenching Luka's head to face the leader.

Lowtown…. where… was that, Luke? Oh. Luka blinked, remembering that his old frien-… er…. Master… criminal… Well, someone had taken him through there once before. Maybe he’d been there himself before. He couldn’t remember if he had. What Luka did remember though, was that he had a hard time remembering things. He let a frown touch his face as Luke forcefully wrenched Luka’s attention back to Walter, or more specifically, the drawing in his hand.

“I um…” Luka scratched his forehead, speaking at a barely audible tone, pushing his hat up as he looked down at the drawing with hopeless eyes, “I don’t…” He grabbed both ends of his hat and pulled down, hiding a blush, “I don’t do well with… drawings…”

But something else hit Luka like a frying pan. He looked up at Walter with surprised eyes, “…Cell phone?” Being one to lose things, and not really being one who’d remember how it worked, Luka didn’t carry a cellphone. Right? He didn’t, right? Luka carefully sifted through the pockets of his jacket, successfully finding only his plain leather wallet in his back pocket. “I… don’t have a cellphone…?” Luka tilted his head to the side, unsure of himself. He could’ve sworn he remembered a little black thing. He’d put it in his…. He had a cellphone…? Luka replaced his wallet, being especially careful with it because it held his hunter’s license.

“Luka lost his cell when he lost his sanity!” Luke sneered, goading his host to humiliate himself more.

Luka blushed hard, clenching his fists as he finally spoke loud and clearly, to someone that wasn’t even supposed to be there, “I-…I did not!”

…. Luka’s eyes widened at his own sudden outburst. (That sounded childish even to someone who was always among the clouds, like Luka.) It hadn’t been loud per say, but it gave Luka a jolt back to reality. He crumpled back, as though trying to disappear into his shoulders, his knees buckling a little. He was obviously finished with speech for the time being. Luka nodded his head, his own silent signal that he was ready to leave anytime.

Alter Ego
June 25th, 2008, 9:42 AM
Kin performed the mental equivalent of quirking an eyebrow at Luka's behavior. There were acts, she knew, acts as clever and disarming as they were unexpected, but the sheer absurdity of the hiratana's behavior completely transceded all of them. The flustered body language, the disjointed mode of conversation, the complete lack of anything even vaguely resemblant of a clue...the girl felt her earlier judgment of her teammate confirmed, either this Luka was a top-class actor or the most airheaded ditz ever to walk the face of Armania. This time around, though, Kin - in the bizarre absence of her usual cynicism on these matters - found herself leaning towards the second option. Surely, SURELY no bounty hunter in their right mind would ever go out without a cell? She shook her head. This guy was like a lost puppy, right down to the adorably helpless facial expression, and she knew all too well what happened to puppies who got lost in lowtown.

And where the locality of 'local meat specialties' came from. It hadn't been a pleasant discovery for a child with the efficient age of eight, but it shed plenty of light on how the seemingly charity-based stray animal compounds made ends meet.

Shaking off that particular line of thought, Kin decided to speak her part before their illustrious leader started taking the leadership part all too far, "That's okay." she chirped in her usual cheery tone, still maintaining a grip of the far taller bounty hunter's arm that would have made a hydraulic press proud, "We can use mine." the petite bounty hunter demonstratively pulled her own cell phone out from within the confines of her clothing, brining it up under her chosen victim's nose for inspection. It had been a standard issue police force model originally, but she had since replaced the casing with a new one, colored a particularly eye-violating shade of pink that clashed horrendously with virtually every article of clothing she had ever deigned to wear, "That's okay, right Wally?" she turned the pleading puppy-dog eyes to Walter, "Lowtown is a scary place and we're looking for a scary person, so I think I'd better go with Luka anway. You know, for safety."

'His safety.' her inner monologue clarified, the bounty hunter not releasing her chosen victim for a moment as she continued enthusiastically, "Of course it's okay, okay, great, thanks Wally! Bye-bye now! See you soon and don't let the fleas bite!" she directed the last comment to the garagna duo in particular, even as the radiant smile and the energetic wave of her hand seemed aimed towards the whole collective, the petite bounty hunter then proceeding to drag Luka towards her chosen alleyway with a simple explanation of "I want to go this way!"

Beneath the carefree smile, the inner Kin was wearing a frown of concern. Yes, Luka was definitely the biggest pushover of the group and thus the most easily controlled partner for her, but his sheer eccentricity and helplessness could prove a problem, especially since...her eyes travelled warily across the various dark recesses lining the path in front of them, all of which were perfect spots for a potential ambush. Well, suffice to say that with her...history in the district, having a larger - if only slightly more intimidating - body in her immediate presence might prove a worthwhile maneuver for all concerned.

June 25th, 2008, 1:57 PM
"Ah, proud garagnans, you live like wildfire, raging through the forest of civilization in a desperate bid to sear your names onto it, unaware that the fruits of your struggle shall become nothing but nourishment for the trees' next saplings." Smiling innocently, the girl tilted her head towards Reeth, "Edward LeBlaque, 'Conversation with the Garagna'." she cited

Reeth stopped dead in his tracks, letting his ears perk straight up on his head. The girl had definitely succeeded in striking a raw nerve and she knew it. He spun around quickly, breathing heavily, staring with anger filled eyes which slowly glossed over in a shade of blood red. His sharp canines grew slightly, overlapping his bottom lip getting sharper and sharper. Heavy breathing replaced his normally calm composure. If there was anything that struck his nerves more than an Armanian, it was a smart assed Armanian. The hair on his back began to stick out straight as it lightened to a powder white. It was only then that there was the trigger.


Reeth couldn't contain himself anymore as his body began to grow into the massive beast that dwells inside him. In attempt to regain his composure, he quickly reached into a pouch in his pocket, snatching a small pill and popping it in his mouth, swallowing it. Almost instantly, his body began to return to its original form, leaving the wolf gargana breathing heavily and staring at the two Armanians through a narrow glare while the blood red color drained from his eyes. Regaining his composure, he fixed his hair and brushed his clothes off, returning to the calm man he usually was. He turned towards the other Gargana, she seemed completely worthless. Pretending as if the half transformation had not just occured, Reeth walked to Walter, snatching the paper and turning around as he looked over the drawing.

"So... Steel Bottle? I'll be in contact. And my name is Reeth. Don't call me Wolfie. I'll kill you." He said in a sideways 'matter of fact' tone. He shifted his glance to the Gargana, Kay, once more, not waiting for an answer from Walter. "As for you. I don't need you. Stay out of my way."

He began to walk away towards his destination, leaving the company of the other hunters.

"Oh... and little Armanian girl. Didn't LeBlaque have a home in Hampshire where he did his works? Yes... I do remember something like that. A vague memory though. He was always so fascinated with Gargana/Armanian relationship. Truly a great man, the only Armanian i still respect..." Reeth paused a moment sighing heavily, then chuckling softly to himself to cope with the moment. "Well... the only Armanian I would respect. If he were still alive. Its a shame that I probably tore him to shreds in the most vicious way possible. His last and only copy of his final writing is in my pouch right now. I'll let you borrow it sometime, its all about how much Armanians THINK they know." Reeth said spitefully as he glared at the little girl before turning quickly and casually walking away and towards his destination while fixing the strap that holds the rifle on his back. Silently, he walked alone, not looking to see if the other Gargana was still following him.

"Well? You coming or not, Gargana?" He called over his shoulder to the catlike Gargana.

July 1st, 2008, 12:23 PM
Luka tried not to squirm uncomfortably in Kin's grasp. It was rude, he mentally admonished himself, though having one's arm crushed by someone half one's size was certainly not the most pleasant experience Luka had been exposed to. He wanted to ask if she could loosen her grip a little, but he didn't know her name, and he was afraid that he might say something strange again if he opened his mouth without thinking. Looking down at Kin, his face seemed to speak it all; at this point, he'd long given up protesting against forces greater than him. He didn't want to go to Lowtown, in all honestly. He pulled his hat down again, though it would go no further. He didn't want anyone to recognize him, though there really was no semblance of a chance that they would. He'd been small back then, and he'd dressed in little more than rags, rather than the coat and hat he wore now. Yes, he assured himself, nobody would notice him, and besides, Kin was there, and she had a cellphone. (He failed to realize that most cellphones weren't quite so lurid in color.)

As soon as he was dragged away however, he noticed that Kin had bid farewell to Walter. Wait. Farewell? Luka looked over his shoulder with wide eyes, a trace of fear in them. Walter wasn't coming with them?! Oh no, but... but......

Luka turned back around and opened his mouth, helplessly wanting to ask Kin whether they would be okay. It didn't help that he'd already forgotten what they were looking for and where they were supposed to be going. But one thing he remembered quite clearly was that they were not in friendly territory. Luka trembled as his eyes relayed moving shadows in the alleyways, strangely shaped creatures waiting to leap out and devour him. Squeezing his eyes shut, he let himself be led blindly by Kin, but not for long. Luke wanted to see Lowtown, and when Luka opened his eyes again, (pried open by Luke, more like) the shadowy monsters where gone. Much to his relief.

"W-" Luka grit his teeth together and pressed his lips against each other before Luke could shove his conciousness out of the way. He knew that anything Luke had to say was not something he'd ever say to anyone. And he didn't want to pick trouble now. But as usual, Luka was no match for his alternative personality.

"Where are we goin'-" Luka swallowed and nervously finished the word that Luke had tried to abbreviate, "-g?"