Armania: Revival

[Scarlet Weather]

ZOMGZ ITZ TEH ALTER EGO!!!11!!! HE KNOWS MAH SECRAT PAST W/THIS RP!111!!! HEAD FOR TEH HEELS!!111/?11!

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.

 

[Brad]

Meh Bounteh Hunter

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.

Attacks:

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]

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]

@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]

((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]

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

 

[Brad]

Meh Fixed Bounteh Hunter

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.

Attacks:

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.

 

[Loki]

*face-to-floor*

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]

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]

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]

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'!

Er... IC GOODNESS

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

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

Tap.

Tap.

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

Tap.

Tap.

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

Tap.

"Both arms."

Tap.

Tap.

BANG!!

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!

 

[Loki]

"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]

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

IC:

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.

"I..."

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]

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]

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]

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.

 

[Kansas]

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...

 

[Loki]

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]

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.

 

[Yuoaman]

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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

Abilities:

-- 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.