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Fluesopp · by **Fluesopp** on Sat Sep 05, 2009 5:39 am

Human name: Derek Wymond, meaning gifted ruler and protector
Race: Dragon
Age: 23
Gender: Male
Hair: Dark Blonde
Height: 6 ft.
Weight: 198 lbs

Dragon name: Isith Nawarath
Scales: Green
Total Length: 31 ft. \ 9,4 m
Neck Length: 10 ft. \ 3 m
Tail Length: 11 ft. \ 3,3 m
Body Length: 10 ft. \ 3 m
Standing Width: 5 ft. \ 1,5 m
Maximum Height: 12 ft. \ 3,6 m
Wingspan: 36 ft. \ 10,9 m
Weight: 2,500 lbs. \ 1 134 kg

In hard times, dragons can be born as young humans to be cared for by humans, to protect the young wyrmling from danger even the parents cannot defend against. The dragon mother makes a deal with a human family with the protection of the family in return for their care. This is usually kept secret from the other villagers and the young wyrmling itself as a dragonborn is looked upon as something dark and evil, a abnormity of the order in the world. So, most dragon born grow up unsuspecting of their true heritance.

The dragon traits appear sometime after the human shell reaches maturity, about the age of 20 or earlier. When this happens, the human parents take the adoptive child to their true mother. Often, the traits of a dragon born are not clearly visible until just before they reach full transformation, but premature traits such as orange lizard eyes or scaly skin which appears from time to time, have been reported. When they have once reached transformation, the dragon born is able to change into a dragon at will until released by their parent.

When taken to their mother, the wyrmling is released of the spell which binds it to the human body, and it become a full dragon. In several cases, the dragon retains the ability to shape shift back into their old human bodies to be with humans. But if the dragon born never meet with their mother, they will not be free from their bonding spell, and is forced to live as a human, with the ability to turn into a dragon for periods, until the spell weakens enough over time or their human body dies of old age. (Which is what happened to Derek)

Dragons can breathe fire almost right after their transformation, as the purpose of the adoption process is to keep the wyrmling out of danger until they can defend themselves. Also, the knowledge their powers, and their inheritance awakens as soon as their transformation happens.

Appearance:
Human: Derek is a strongly built man, a trait which follows those that are dragonborns. His face is sharp, with clear facial lines and a full jaw. He cuts his beard each day, but if left uncut, it grows quickly into a full, ragged beard. He tries to keep his dark hair half short, long enough to cover his ears, but it does not reach his face.

He tends to wear a brown, open jacket, blue pants and a colored shirt, simple clothing to blend in with the crowd, but still enough to be individual.

Dragon: His true form, the dragon, is a somewhat small, and green, dragon, compared to the full grown dragons.

The whole body is covered in dark green scales, which glimmer with a light green color in the sun. They are not especially sharp, but they are pretty sturdy when it comes to protection. However, they are not fully grown, so they are not as hard as a grown up dragon's, and can be cut. Each scale is about 5 centimeter in size, and overlap only slightly, creating a somewhat smooth surface. On the underbelly, the scales are much larger, and much stronger.

Small spikes protrude down the length of the neck, about 5 centimeters in diameter at the base. At the end of the neck, there is a gap in the spikes, but the rest of his spine and tail is spiked. His talons are razor sharp, strong enough to cut through iron, but is still able to handle items with delicate precision. On the back of his head, two long horns protrude backwards.

His wings are like thin velvet, spread out by two strong limbs. When completely spread out they span over 30 feet, and when fold back they fold up nicely against the body. The surface of the wing is soft and warm, and is reminiscent of a bat’s wings. The fine membrane is somewhat translucent with the thin, numerous veins just showing through the brown underside. From the over side, the color is a lighter variation of his green scales. On the back of his head, two large horns protrude backwards while several smaller ones protrude from the side of his head, protecting the upper part of his neck. His teeth are sharp as knives and goes from large fangs in the front of the jaw to smaller teeth in the back.

Weapons:
Slayer of Hope - A jagged long sword enchanted with the ability to turn invisible when in its scabbard. The edge is made of hard silver-steel and can withstand most blows without needing sharpening. The sword also has a strong resistance to fire, and does not conduct heat at all. He obtained this weapon from a fellow dragon after it's death, and belonged to a Dragon Hunter. It is not very ornamented; there is no crystals or rubies in either the guard or the scabbard. However, it is a delicate sword, the good balance and the firm grip makes the blade a easily wielded weapon.
He renamed it to Slayer of Hope from its previous name, Slayer of Demons, after acquiring it.

Strengths and powers:
Human:
- Shape Shifting: He can, as a human, change, or add, body parts of the dragon such as claws, head, legs or wings. The transformation is a progressive one, where the change is clearly visible as the skin turn green and scaly, and as the shape is changed. He has a long time ago found out that if he shape shifts in a special way, he can keep his cloths when he shifts. This results in a fusing of his cloths with his skin in the seam of the shift. It also applies when he transform into a dragon, and back. The change takes about one to two seconds depending on the part.
- Transforming: Just like shape shifting, he can transform completely into a dragon. This change takes about three to five seconds, and just like shape shifting, the whole process is clearly visible.
In this process, his body mass rapidly expands, engulfing all clothing and items. In example, if he had a spear through his leg, the transformation would engulf the spear in his leg and sewer the connection to the parts not engulfed. The spear would also not be 'present' while dragon, but as soon as he becomes a human, it returns.
- Healing: One of the only traits that actually do good for the human body is the healing. It is almost as effective as the dragon healing, but it takes a little longer to heal.
- Strength: As human, he is stronger and faster than most and can stand ground against most normal opponents and with effort, abnormal opponents.
- Dark Magic: While human, Derek can convert his dragon energy into spells, such as balls of dark energy which explodes on impact and protective wards which protects him from attacks. He can also siphon energy from magic saturated items instead of his dragon form. This power is a new power; he learned it after studying a scroll of draconic power in the lair of a dragon.

Dragon:
- Fire: He is a dragon: he can breathe fire... The flame can reach up to 3000 degrees, as hot as a welding torch, strong enough to melt steel. It is an easy ability, and he can do everything from letting out a small flicker of flame through his nose, or to a blazing inferno.
- Strength: He is strong enough to lift himself in the air along with a little more than 250 kg, can lift about a ton on the ground, and have the strength to bend steel with ease. But even with that power, he can still be gentle when he uses it, and can almost pick a flower. (At least a sunflower..)
- Abilities: His sight is extremely well; he can with ease see things miles away. In addition, he have heat vision, and can see in the dark. His senses are also keen, and he can smell and hear even better than a wolf.
- Healing: His body regenerates itself much faster than a human body, but not instantly. After a day of rest, most damages will be healed. Larger wounds, such as a open wound, he must tend to heal. When he is wounded as a dragon, he can turn back to a human and the wounds will still heal, even though he is not a dragon.
- Ability to speak: While dragon, Derek can both speak human language and Draconic, the dragon language.

Weaknesses:
Human:
- When shape shifting, all damage done to the dragon parts are inflicted to his dragon form.
- After transforming to a dragon, or back, he cannot redo the transformation straight away. He needs to be in that form for ten minutes or so before transforming back.
- When human, he is just as vulnerable as a regular human.
- Even though he is stronger than most, he is still bound to the natural limits of the human body. There is no magic strength.
- When using Dark Magic it leaves a heavy toll on his dragon form. Only half of the energy drained is converted to usable Dark Magic, and after excessive use, he is unable to turn into a dragon at all.

Dragon:
- He cannot continuously breathe fire. He can only breathe fire for about two minutes continuously before he needs to "recharge". The breath "recharges" with one minute of fire breathing for each five minute.
- As a dragon, he is bigger and requires more room to maneuver.
- Damage to his dragon form is carried over to the next time he transforms, unless it has healed (see dragon powers)
- As a fire elemental type he is weak against ice and water, and as a dark elemental, to light and holy magic. (However, this only applies to attacks, as he has no weakness to natural occurrences of water) In addition, he is also weak against wind magic and natural strong winds, as he still lacks the stability to fly through them unaffected. (This is obviously because his wings)

Personality:
Derek’s back-story is a story filled with grief and sorrow, and he reflects his feelings into his behavior; he is often sulky, befriends nobody and expresses hate against most beings. So strong is his emotions, they are contagious to others. Not often is he seen laughing, and he spends most of his time on his own.

He is very aggressive, often being the first in a battle to attack, but however much aggressive he is, he can be infinite patient due to his dragon inheritance (At least, from a humans perspective). He is hard to trust, and finds it hard to trust people back. And even when he gains the trust of another, he is not completely trustworthy. He rarely speaks, but when he speaks, it is often carefully selected words.

Derek is neither good, nor evil, but only care for himself. Friends mean little to him, and enemies are just people with a more than usual hate for him. But more than others, he despises what he is, a dragon trapped in a human body.

Just as other dragons, Derek is extremely arrogant. He believes himself superior to other races, knowing that he is one of the most powerful creatures in the world, or at least when he grow older. His view of humans are like humans view animals; as pray or as beast of burden. He is likewise greedy, as all other dragons, and is constantly on the look for treasure of great value. However, Derek was never freed from his human body and thus still retains his human emotions and drives, which weakens his arrogance and greed a few notches. This can sometime cause him to have a personality crisis, as part of him thinks of humans as pitiful creatures and the other part thinks of them as equals.

Birthplace:
Map 'borrowed' from Ramah of Cartographers Guild:
http://fluesopp.org/images/div/VaniyaMap.jpg
Derek was born in Lind in Ambvrria.

Bio:
I can still remember the sadness I felt when my mother died. True, she was my surrogate mother, but back then, eight years old, I didn’t know what I now know. To me, she was the world, and as of that moment, my world was torn apart. I was left parentless; in a world where orphans were not though well of. It was an evil omen, and they said that the fate of the remaining children was cursed, even more so when there was only one, as I was. I was cursed, they said, and I knew it to be true. I was the cause of my parents’ death.

As I now look back, I realize it was only a kid’s way of reacting to such a dramatic event. It was not I who was the cause of their death. Nor did I have anything to do with it. I was on a trading journey with our neighbors to another village down the coast. They needed a hand with the horses, and I was curious about the world outside, so I joined them. The journey should take about five days, two days of journey each way and one day in the village. It was on the second day of the journey the bandits attacked… Had I just been there to protect them, I cursed myself.

But life continued. I was taken care of by the neighbors I traveled with; I was fed and clothed, but I never got a position as a real son. But I cannot blame them. Everyone thought I was cursed, even most of my new siblings. Only my even aged ‘brother’, Kain, understood me. Actually, he was probably the only one that truly understood what I had experienced.

As the years passed, people seemed to forget the death of my parents, the previous fear of me slowly vanished, but I never was attached to anyone so much as I was to Kain. We grew up together, worked together, and flirted with girls together. In most ways, we had become just as twins. We had our quarrels, but at the end of the day we were always friends again. I shared my secrets with him, and he shared his with me. So it was not strange that he was the first to notice.

We were working in a sunflower field when it first happened. We were both twenty years and were discussing what we would do when we got older. Kain wanted to be a hunter, he told me, to stalk the pray until they feel safe, and then strike! I laughed at his sudden vigor as he struck a sunflower, breaking its stalk. “At least sunflowers stay still,” I remember saying, before a shockwave flooded through my veins. I must have looked much worse than I felt, because as soon as Kain saw me he rushed to my side to support me.

“What’s wrong?” he asked. I could not answer. I did not know, although I knew I was not ill. Actually, the feeling I had was the feeling one had when a chip is pulled out of your finger, or when poison is drained from an infected wound. I felt like a sickness which had lingered in my body since my birth had finally left me, a sickness I had not been aware of.

“Your eye…” Kain said with both awe and fear in his voice. “Your eye…”

I blinked and felt strange when my left eyelid closed. Then a gushing feeling flooded from my head to my toes. I blinked again, and this time both eyes felt strange. I realized Kain had released his hold on me and stood a few feet away, watching me in with mixed emotions. Then I felt something itchy on my hand. I let out a gasp as I looked at the green scales which started to form on the back of my hand. My head started spinning.

“Help, Kain!” I pleaded desperately as my eyes were clouded with darkness, “What’s happening to me?!”

I think he had problems making the decision he made, but when I woke up, I was lying in my bed, home. Then, I could not quite remember what had taken place before I fainted. I did remember the good feeling, and that Kain had been afraid, and that there was something about me.

“You’re awake,” Kain said as he entered the room with his mother, she was carrying a tray of food.

“You have probably been out in the sun for too long,” she said as she put the tray down by my bed and left. “Get some rest,” she advised me as she went out the door. We were silent for a long time after his mother left. Finally, I managed to ask, “What happened, in the fields?”

Kain closed his eyes, and shuddered; he did that when he had bad news. “You suddenly got pale, as if you were about to faint,” he said silently. “But before you did, your eyes got all orange. You looked like a demon of some kind.”

I shuddered myself. Was I truly a demon? This buggered me for the whole next week. I kept looking in the mirror to see if my eyes would turn orange, but nothing happened, until the next time we were out in the fields again. I suddenly got the good feeling again, like a cleansing flood that rushed through my veins, making me feel alive and full of energy. Then, a ripping sound, and I almost fell backwards by some new weight attached to my back. I tried to turn my head to see what was happening, but my view was blocked by something leathery material. I turned to see better, but to my horror, the leathery veil followed. Then, as if I’ve always known, I realized what the leathery veil was. I had grown wings! Like a seed, surviving the harsh weather of winter underground just to spring into full bloom at spring, I awakened. I had always known, I had just not been aware. I was, and I did not shudder by the thought, a Dragon!

I tried to spread my wings; each was almost as large as I were, and in the small path between the sunflowers, I could not fully spread them. But just like a salmon know he must go upriver to spawn, I knew I had to return to my mother, to get free of my spell which held me bonded in my body. The massive amount of knowledge I just suddenly became aware of was no shock; I always knew.

“Derek,” someone exclaimed, and I looked up. “Kain,” I exclaimed back and retracted my wings back into my body. Kain look at me, terrified and shocked. “Demon,” he whispered and made the sign of the cross. By that motion, I felt a slight nausea, but I held up my hand to stop him. “No, I’m no demon,” I said, although a bit unsure about that part, as his sign, however weak, had really affected me. “I’m a dragon.” Kain’s eyes widened and his mouth fell open in both terror and surprise. I tried to explain my revelation the best I could, while Kain turned from scared, to shocked, to angry.

“So, it was true,” he muttered. “You were truly cursed.”

I closed my eyes and lowered my head.

“Apparently,” I said and looked at him. “But, at the same time, I don’t feel like I’m cursed. It’s like I’m reborn, like a flower sprung free from the ground!”

“But don’t you understand? They’ll kill you if they see you. Haven’t you heard? People hunt dragons!”

“I know,” I said. They could only dare to try. We had walked out from the sun flowers and stood on a hill with the village far below. “I have to go now,” I said and took a step forwards, and wings grew on my back. “I guess this is farewell.” Kain looked at me with sadness in his eyes. Somewhere deep inside me something told me I should at least shed a tear, but I didn’t listen. Instead I spread my wings, bat them twice, and with one powerful blow I shoot into the sky. Seconds later, I had completed my transformation and was flying straight towards where my instincts told me to go.

The next I remember was the sadness that I was alone in the world. It was not a strong sadness, only a shadow over what I once felt. Dragons are used to be alone. But I was not yet a dragon. There was still a good portion of human left in me, which I now realized I had to carry with me for perhaps 80 more years. I tried to remember what it was, to be a human. I had almost forgotten it, but as soon as I tugged at the loose thread, everything came loose and I started to cry, like a human. I suddenly remembered my human feelings, the grief I had felt when I lost my surrogate mother, the same grief I now felt at the loss of my real mother. I remembered how I had found her; the skull was gone, but the bones were left as a reminder of the great victory. A strong hatred against humans started to fill my heart.

But in my early days as a dragon, I don’t remember much. Only emotions, like the strong hatred I felt for my old village when I returned, and found Kain hung because he was seen with me when I left. I remember anger when I destroyed the village, burned down every singly home, leaving no one left to tell the tale, and I remember grief when I realized nothing I could do would get Kain, my mother or my surrogate mother back.

Then my life stabilized itself. I found myself capable of retaining my human part both a curse and a blessing. Without it, I’d probably be killed by the constant raids on dragons, but without it I wouldn’t need to live with the grief. People here tell me grief is a passing emotion. At least for those whose lifespan is as long as dragons. But I am still in the early days of life, merely a hatchling, and my grief lingers with me every day, and I, Isith Nawarath, by the human name Derek Wymond, long for the day I can shed my human body, to truly become a dragon.

Waste. · by **Waste.** on Sat Sep 05, 2009 9:30 am

I'm not sure if this breaks the rules but I always use these characters as one.

Name:
Dante and Jesse D'arc

Age:
167

Race:
Vampire

Appearance:
The twins are in fact identical, the only difference being the length of their hair.
Their hair is white; Dante wears his as a thick shag that falls around his chin with the last layer falling past his shoulders. Jesse however just has a shag of thick white hair that falls to his chin.

Their eyes are glacier blue, set above high, chiselled cheekbones. They have wide shoulders and sculpted arms with thin waists and narrow hips, their legs are long causing them to stand at just below six foot.

Their style usually varies somewhat, with Dante preferring to dress much smarter with black trousers, leather shoes, white shirts and waistcoats. He has been known to wear the occasional top hat. Jesse is a little less formal with tight jeans and dark coloured shirts with boots or sometimes converses. He has been known to pull off a roll neck jumper with a dark blazer but prefers to wear fewer layers.

They look about 19 years old.

Personality:
Dante is usually seen in public as the stronger of the two, he tends to speak for Jesse and look down upon others. He often bosses his brother about but that does not mean that he does not love him dearly. There is nothing Dante would not do for Jesse and it is apparent to many that he is highly protective of his twin. He likes to be dominant and in control of his life, if he has a strong view on something he will stick to it and refuse to waver, even if he is wrong. It is in these circumstances that only Jesse can bring him around.

Jesse is a little timid, quite and appears shy. Always standing slightly behind his brother he does not like to make decisions and appears to be pushed around by Dante. It is only behind closed doors that the real relationship is evident, the one in which Dante leans on his brother for support. Jesse is usually the one that smiles and makes light of things, this does not make his brother a pessimist for he too knows there is a silver lining, he just has to look a little harder for it.

The boys share an unusually strong brotherly bond, they have loved each other dearly since childhood. There have been many attempts from others to break the bond they have but all have failed and they have come out stronger than before. They are always together and usually finish each others sentences, in Jesse's case he doesn't really have to speak often as Dante will just speak for him. Their bond is such that they have developed a certain clairvoyance when it comes to each other and are able to predict the others next move. Hence why they don't play chess any more.

History:
Born 14th June 1842 to a highly respected and upper class family they grew up in London in a large house by the Thames. The family owned a larger house in the country where they would go for long summer visits. The family consisted of a strict, law abiding father and a wife who followed his every wish. The family was large with four children, including the boys, at the time.

There was Adele who was the eldest at eight and Iris who was five when the twins were born. The children were brought the most expensive clothes and given the finest education. From the age of three the boys were being shown off and having young daughters from other families introduced to them.

When they were four their mother had another child, a baby girl named Lorie. By this time the boys had managed to make a name for themselves and were always getting into trouble, even their own parents could not tell them apart. When one of them did get into trouble both were punished swiftly by their father, who sometimes took things a little too far.

It was widely believed that children were wicked and needed to be trained to overcome the evil within them, a task that was easy when taming the girls but no amount of beating seemed to batter the boys will. It was widely known that the man of the house, Ronald D’arc, had never needed to beat any of his daughters but it was only the boys who knew why. His wife had suspicions but turned a blind eye. Through the hard years of life, when the beatings and abuse against their sisters was at its worse, Dante relied on Jesse for comfort. It was in fact Jesse who appeared the stronger of the two and Dante was often found running after and clinging onto him. Not that Jesse minded.

It was at the age of thirteen that what they did began to go past the law, or so it was thought. They had a great love for each other and when they did not bat an eyelid at many of the girls presented before them in their next few years homosexuality was suspected. This was not the case, although they did spend as much time as they could together, year 15 to 16 was the worst in their young lives when they were separated for the entire year in the hope to tear away from them the love that they felt.

It didn’t, absence makes the heart grow stronger but on their reunion things were different, Jesse fell back a little and Dante had become more confident. Before Dante had thought that Jesse cared for him little and had tried to force love upon his brother by always being clingy and doing what he wanted, but on their reunion he saw that Jesse loved him just as much so began to step up a little. It was he who first suggested a certain love affair that the boys had when they were seventeen with a young duke who also found himself attracted to men.

Dante had always been attracted to the same sex but it was Jesse who was bisexual and also found women attractive. The only thing he ever kept from his brother was his love of Cassandra Royals a fifteen year old from a middle class family that the D’arcs had become involved with. It was not custom for a couple of upper class to have sex before marriage but Jesse took Cassandra’s virginity on a night of a ball held by his parents for their sons eighteenth birthday.

Nine months later Cassandra gave birth to a baby boy, her family were distraught and told her to get rid of the baby. So she took him to an orphanage in a dark part of town and left him on the steps with a golden locket and a single piece of paper with his name on it. Lucas.

Jesse never knew about the baby, in fact after the party he did not see Cassandra for over a year but the boys did continue to see the young duke. It was on one night when they were on their way home from his manor house that they took a short cut down a dark alley where they met a man who would change their lives for ever.

The vampire claimed to have been watching them for the last year or so and thought that they would benefit from eternal life. He changed them both and took on the role of their sire, teaching them everything they needed to know.

There were only a few things they wanted to do before leaving their home, in fact just two. Kill their father and visit the young Duke. In the morning there were two dead bodies found, one was Ronald’s, the other their first feed. The Duke.

Jesse had one last thing he wanted to do, he wanted to visit Cassandra and that meant explaining everything to Dante. At first Dante was angry, but anger soon turned to understanding and they went to Cassandra who told them of Lucas. When Jesse found out that he had a son he refused to leave and headed to the orphanage where he inquired about the boy who had been left there, named Lucas.

The boy was one by then and looked very much like his father, Jesse took him into his arms and knew that from then on he and Dante would have to travel with the youngster and take care of him. One look from the baby's piercing blue eyes and the twins had been captured. Their sire left them shortly after that, un able to really comprehend looking after a human child, Dante and Jesse went on to France where their set up a large home with Lucas and sat back to enjoy the growth of their son.

Of course he aged, and they didn't, and years are short for vampires. Dante and Jesse left Lucas when he was 17, unable to comprehend the idea of his death. They explored Europe over the next few years, meeting other vampires, their love for each other never wavering despite the amount of time they spent together and the kills that they shared.

It was in America that Jesse fell in love again, a few months before the country joint the second world war he met a sharp tongued cadet in a club where he and Dante liked to go for easy pickings. She was an eighteen year old brunette with a big windy city attitude. He loved her dearly, although this didn't upset Dante much. Even though he spent less time with Jesse he knew that America would soon go to war and the young cadet would be pulled away. Which was exactly what happened.

Jesse's grief was great, he wanted to follow her but knew that he could not. So he and Dante returned to their travels, finding England again when their turned their 167 years. They brought their old house in the country and threw an extravagant ball for both humans and vampires. I'm sure we can all guess how well that went...

Documenting 167 years of history makes for a long bio. =]

Alexia.. · by **Alexia..** on Sat Sep 05, 2009 12:28 pm

Name: Danyka Staner

Age: 16

Religion: Wicca

Personality:
She is a very kind and gentle person, with great insight to the world around her. She practices the Wiccan religion, and is very in tune with her higher self. It is very rare that she will get mad, even when she does she usually keeps her cool unless pushed to her limit. Her family and friends are what mean most to her, and will protect them till death. She enjoys to go out on Friday nights to the local bar. Also, she enjoys yoga, and meditating. She helps people with their problems and issues, and does her best to fix them. Lastly, she is a huge animal lover, and protests against animal cruelty.

Bio:
Danyka was born in a small town named, Crediton. It was the kind of town where every one knew every one, and what every one did. Good or bad. When Danyka was twelve, she began getting herself into trouble. By the age of thirteen, she had been arrested for, arson, theft under ten thousand, and assult. She was sentenced with twelve months "jail" time, and then twelve months probation.

While she was in the detention center she met a lot of different types of people. Luckily for her, her cell mate Raven, was very nice. She was in there for taking the rap for one of her best friends who had put another kid in the hospital. She was the one who helped turn Danyka's life around, for Raven studied wicca. They became very powerful over the year they were there, study, breakfast, practice, lunch, study, supper, cast a circle, sleep. This was their basic routine.

After the year was up, the went their own ways, having only the memories of each other left. When Danyka when home, she told her mom of Raven, and her newly found religion. Her mom just about had a cow, being catholic, this was against what she believed. (Then again, her mom thought wicca was "devil worship") She told Danyka that she was never to think about wicca again. Danyka was so heart broken. She had taken such a powerful liking to wicca, almost as if she were meant to be a witch. A few days passed with the both of them not talking to each other, when one day Danyka lost it one her. She had found out that she was adopted at the age of seven months old, she never would have known if she didn't go through her mom's files and found her birth cirtificate. Her mom told her she didn't want to tell her because of what her birth parents were... Witches. They had been murdered by other witches, years after they had resigned magick forever.

Appearance:
Danyka is rather short, but not too short, coming to about 5'5. She has medium length straight black hair. It usually falls past her shoulders, or is tied back in a pony tail or messy bun. She has stunning blue-purple eyes, that are normally rimmed with coal black eye liner. She is a bit on the punk side, you can usually catch her wearing tight ripped jeans, cute colourful t-shirts, some times a sweater over top. A silver pentacle hangs from her neck, sitting just below her collar bone. As for bracelets, she has a variety of colours, wrist bands, and arm warmers. She likes to sport her converse all stars.

Sample dialog:
Danyka walked into her mothers room, a small slip of paper rested in her left hand. Her mother turned to look at her, but was shocked when Danyka's gaze looked as though she was stabbing knives into her eyes. "What is this!?" Danyka exlaimed, throwing the paper, which was her birth cirtificate. "That name on there is not you. Am I adopted!!?" A tear began to stroll down her cheek. Her so called "mother" came over to embrace her in a hug. Danyka was so pissed, she shoved her mom away, "You lied to me, for 16 years of my life you lied to me!" The tears were streaming down her face, she had to hold back the sobs. "Why didn't you tell me? I have a right to know, this IS my life you know."

Ylanne · by **Ylanne** on Sat Sep 05, 2009 3:09 pm

((Delete))

I accidentally posted my unfinished profile using the preview button. Please ignore until I repost the completed, corrected version.

Myth · by **Myth** on Sat Sep 05, 2009 3:30 pm

I am the heir of a God,
Yet they call me a blasphemer...

Name
Azrehn
Race
Black-backed Jackal
Canis mesomelas
[Anthropomorphic]
Gender
Male
Age
27

Physical Appearance
Azrehn has fur a dirty golden brown in colour, that lightens to a ivory, off-white colour along his belly. His back, from his shoulder blades to his hips, is black with a dusting of silver, and also sports several scars from a whip. His ears and tail begin with the same golden colour, and darken gradually to black at the tips. His fore and hind legs also end in black paws. His face has unusual markings, reminiscent of a skull. Beginning at his nose and extending along his top jaw, to the base of his ears is a off-white colour, and his eyes are set in dark brown, much like the ocular cavity of a skull. His eyes are golden, and they're lined with a thick rim of white fur. His lips are dark brown in colour, and a line of the same colour fur extends past the ends of his mouth, curling up towards his ears in a parody of a smile, giving him a sinister look.
Personality
Azhrehn believes himself to be the heir of Anubis. He claims to hear the jackal-headed God in his consciousness, and during dreams. Due to this, he looks highly upon himself, and thinks he is better than all others, even the Pharaoh, and the priests. He is arrogant and rebellious, and treats others no better than slaves. He has a superiority complex, and is believed to be insane, due to the voice in his head. He is also violent, tending to find pleasure in causing others pain and suffering. This could have something to do with the fact that Anubis, supposedly; told him he was to be the destroyer of all life on Earth and the harbinger of the Apocalypse.

Location
Ancient Egypt, Earth
[Alternate Reality]
Story
Every since Azrehn was young, he knew he was different from the others. His strange markings set him apart, making him feared and shunned. The other kids would make fun of him, or try to beat him up, and if he tried to get involved in their games he would often get chased away. He first started hearing the underworld God, Anubis, talking to him when he was around 10 years of age. He never told anyone, though, because he knew the others would make fun of him, or hurt him. So he kept quiet about it until he was older, and came to understand that the voice he was hearing actually was Anubis. At that point he began to think of himself as being important, and this was fueled by the things that Anubis would say. When he was 17 years of age, he began to tell people about Anubis' words. Tales of this began to circulate, and eventually it came to the attention of the Pharaoh.

The Pharaoh, upon hearing this, sent for Azrehn, wanting to speak with him. He also called upon the priests to be present as well. The Pharaoh was worried that what Azrehn was saying would stir up trouble, that he might cause a rebellion and try to take his throne. He decided to speak to the boy and see if the tales had any credibility to them. So Azrehn, now 21 years of age, went to the Pharaoh upon hearing the summons, accompanied by his mother. After speaking with the Pharaoh and the priests, he was called a blasphemer, and a sinner. The Pharaoh and the priests asked if he would repent, and upon replying in the negative, Azrehn was thrown into a jail cell deep underground for a month. After the month had passed, he was asked again if he would repent. His negative response was meet with anger, and he was brought into the courtyard of the Pharaohs palace, and publicly whipped.

Through the whipping, Azrehn uttered not a word. He almost bit his tongue clean in half in his efforts to not show the Pharaoh any weakness. When they were finished his back was slicked with blood, and large strips of fur and flesh were missing from his shoulders to his hips. Blood and saliva was dribbling down his jaw and front, from were he had bitten his tongue, and it also ran down his throat, thick enough to make him choke. They untied him, and dragged him before the Pharaoh and his priests. Once there, Azrehn managed to rise to his feet, and stood proudly before the Pharaoh, not content to back down. When asked again if he would repent, he sneered at the Pharaoh like the man was nothing but a mere annoyance, and growled that they would not keep him from his destiny. Enraged, the Pharaoh ordered him killed at once.

His mother, would had been weeping in the sidelines, threw herself before her son, pleading with the Pharaoh to have mercy. He relented, and decided that death would be too kind for Azrehns ilk. Instead, he ordered him into exile. At once they took Azrehn and dragged him far out into the desert. There they left him, with no food, water or any means of transportation. They left him with only the clothes on his bloody back, and a dire warning. "If we see ye 'round here again, we won't hesitate to kill ya. You're not welcome here, and all of Egypt will know it by the morrow. Anyone who catches sight of ye will kill ya, and bring your head to the Pharaoh for a hefty prize."

...I will not be chained, I will never be broken.

You can't keep me from my destiny.

Ylanne · by **Ylanne** on Sat Sep 05, 2009 8:25 pm

A note: The following profile is formatted like an FBI file, and so the first portion of it may contain jargon unnecessary to read the rest of the profile, which contains pertinent information on the character in question. To understand abbreviations, just PM me about them, and I’ll be happy to let you know what any particular abbreviation means.

One further note: This character’s setting is modern (literally, a few years into the future) and realistic (real world), only slightly altered to allow for two fictitious locales (as in Princess Diaries, The Terminal, and The Interpreter.

One last note: At least two other routinely used characters of mine are mentioned in the below profile, as a matter of reference. Any other character/name mentioned belongs to one or another character of mine. For further information, again, just ask.

Oh! I lied. One last thing: don’t try to email the address for Natalie. Please.

UNITED STATES DEPARTMENT OF JUSTICE
FEDERAL BUREAU OF INVESTIGATION
MEMORANDUM
Case No. 199-HQ-915839

199-HQ-915839-870426

April 23, 2019

FROM: SAC NATALIE ELISABETH SCHULTZ, LEGAT KAB

TO: DIRECTOR, FBI

SUBJECT:
TAHIRA ALI, A.K.A.
ATUSIT, AKKP, HTT, SK
(OO: HEADQUARTERS)

ALL INFORMATION CONTAINEDn\HEREIN
IS UNCLASSIFIED\nDATE 06-11-2019

At the request of SOG, I have distilled the extensive dossier on SUB Tahira Ali (WAS), currently incarcerated at the FHD in Florence, to a mere nine pages, for easy reference by any FBI employee or other reader, referencing the preceding EW, the BOP CI file, court transcripts, the SR interrogation transcript, the████████████████████████████, and other memos from their respective ORI.

The following enclosure is an epigrammatic overview of SUB Tahira Ali (WAS), provided without FBI jargon and abbreviations inasmuch as possible, in order to facilitate utilization and readability.

Sincerely,

Natalie Elisabeth Schultz

Natalie Elisabeth Schultz
Special Agent in Charge
FBI Legal Attaché
Embassy of the United States
Kabul, Afghanistan
natalie.schultz@ic.fbi.gov

Enclosures: (1)

Identity Particulars

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- Attachment removed -
(05-14-2014 file photo, Federal Bureau of Prisons)

Full Name: Tahira Ali
Given Name: Elan Tahera Almontaser
Aliases: Shaykhah Tahira Ali, Fatimah bint Batya, Soraya Khan, Salima al-Rasul, Taliya Asfah
Age/DOB: 69, 05-12-1950
Gender: Female
US Marshals Number: 82594-022
FBI Number: 51946WC8
Race: Caucasian, non-Hispanic
Ethnicity: Uighur (father), Italian Jew (mother)
Skin Tone: Olive
Height: 4'10" (58 inches)
Weight: 85
Build: Slim
Eyes: Gray
Hair: White, of length to just beyond bust

General Description: High cheekbones and a prominent Widow's peak, long nose, pale eyes have a slight almond shape with crow's feet.

Scars, Marks, Piercings, and Tattoos: Scar on left shoulder, scar on left hip, no piercings, no tattoos

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(2) Attachments removed
(05-14-2014 file photographs of scars – Federal Bureau of Prisons)

Criminal History:

Arrests: 06-13-2013 (FBI)
Alleged Crimes: Murder in the first degree (18 counts), conspiracy against the United States, conspiracy to commit acts of terrorism against public officials
Plea: Defendant stood mute
Adjudication: Guilty as charged
Date of Adjudication: 03-26-2014
Sentencing Court: U.S. District Court for the District of Columbia
Presiding Judge: Hon. Miriam Kashani
US Attorney: Evan S. Drummond
Defense Counsel: Katherine Gilliam
Sentence: Death

Beliefs and National Origin

Religion: Theist, but not adhering to any particular doctrine or established religious system of belief
Political affiliation: Apathetic
Sexual orientation: Heterosexual
Education: Secondary school (completed)
Languages spoken: Arabic, English (not fluently), Latin (archaic)
Citizenship: United States of America (also previously Mutalistan, but later stripped thereof)
Nationality: Mutali
Place of Birth: Washington DC, USA

Personal Profile:

Interests: Mathematics, philosophy
Hobbies: Inmate observed Reading philosophy texts, some in Arabic; family reported affinity for mathematics
Known Phobias: None on record
Skills or Abilities: Able to create Arabic calligraphy, has memorized significant portions of the Bible and Qur'an, is able to read Latin
History of Significant Health Problems: Uncorrected mild myopia
History of Mental Health Problems: None
General Demeanor: Interrogation and trial transcripts and FBOP daily logs reveal a quiet, unassuming nature on behalf of the subject, who speaks at will when spoken to, but otherwise is distant from others and lacking in significant relationships. She does not fully appreciate the legal consequences of her actions, and shows symptoms of clinical depression, narcissistic personality disorder, and anti-social disorder, though several independent psychiatrists and psychologists have diagnosed no mental disorder.

Current Status:

Address: USP Florence ADMAX, U.S. Penitentiary, Highway 67 South, Florence CO 81226
Custody: Federal Bureau of Prisons
Sentence: Death
Marital Status: Single, never married
Occupation: Unemployed inmate
Smoking: No
Alcohol Usage: None
Illegal Drug Usage: None

Related Persons of Interest:

Family

(Extended family beyond nephews and nieces not included, as well as other non-immediate family members with whom the subject had little contact)

Father: Shasta Wadiri Almontaser, aka Zhang Xi Wang, Abdullah Zafar, Caleb Johnson; anti-Mao political journalist (deceased)

Mother: Dr. Beatrice Marie Anandini, aka Helena Gonnerman, Batya Shir, Raheema Khan; philosophy professor (deceased)

Siblings: Professor David Basam Almontaser (older brother); Chair of the Mathematics Department (MIT)

Spouse: Never married

Children: None

In Laws: Professor Sarah Janette Moore (sister in law); physicist and physics professor (MIT)

Nephews/Nieces:
— Rev. Hilkiah James Almontaser (nephew); Baptist pastor in West Virginia
— Mordecai Edwin Almontaser (nephew); mid-level corporate executive
— Bilhah Amani Almontaser (niece); freelance artist, landscape surrealism
— Dr. Hagar Elan Almontaser (niece); psychologist specializing in Autism Spectrum Disorders
— Reuben Shasta Almontaser (nephew); military interrogator assigned to Guantánamo

Extended Family:
— Sumitra Wurud Almontaser (aunt; Shasta's sister), aka Solara Asfah; Christian missionary and seamstress (deceased)
— Saleh Wahid Almontaser (uncle; Shasta’s brother), attorney (deceased)
— Miriam Almah Anandini (aunt; Beatrice’s sister), secretary
— Lydia Ruth Anandini (aunt; Beatrice’s sister), nurse
— Patricia Josephine Anandini (aunt Beatrice’s sister), teacher
— Dr. Alia Asfah (cousin; Sumitra/Solara's daughter); Nobel Chemistry Prize laureate (deceased)
— Jai Asa (cousin; Beatrice's sister's daughter); human rights activist, Senatorial aide
— Dr. Louis Aimee (first cousin once removed; Jai's husband); criminology professor (Howard University)
— Ilana Aimee (second cousin; Jai's daughter); doctoral candidate, creative writing (Amherst University)
— Kami Nobuko (second cousin; Alia's daughter); graduate student of early childhood development (Suffolk University)
— Detective Baoyehn Ma (second cousin once removed; Kami's father), aka Kevin Ma; Boston homicide detective

Known Associates (former and current):
— Carlos Hodgson (former partner); private sector consultant, former public official (Mutalistan, former Ánár Tynan)
— Usama bin Ladin, criminal associate
— Ibrahim El Ghamri, criminal associate
— Yamin Noor Attab, criminal associate
— Arabella St. Claire, criminal associate
— Joseph Clark, criminal associate
— Katherine Rachael Gilliam, public defender
— Gray Herbert Sanderson, public defender
— Lydia Kiernan, human rights activist

Biographical Remarks:

(Although much of this information was first revealed during the initial interrogations of the subject, it has all been confirmed with various independent sources and methods.)

On May 12, 1950, Elan Tahera Almontaser was born in Washington DC to two asylum seekers, Shasta Wadiri Almontaser, a Chinese Uighur dissident journalist, and his wife, Dr. Beatrice Anandini, a professor of Western philosophy in Communist China. At this time, the Almontasers’ older son, David, had recently graduated from West Nottingham Academy, and was enrolled at MIT as an undergraduate student.

The Almontasers were persecuted by Mao Zedong, and sought to escape his clutches in America; however, they possessed a certain sense of paranoia and so decided to take the entire family into hiding under various assumed names. The only family member exempted was David, of his own volition. The Almontasers approached Shasta’s half-sister, Sumitra, a Christian missionary to adopt Elan outside established legal protocols, as though the child were her own. Once Sumitra agreed to do so, she adopted assumed names on her and Elan’s behalf, and relocated to East Ánár Tynan (now Mutalistan).

Ánár Tynan was predominantly Moslem Arabs and Persians, with a few Pashtun tribesmen in the Northeast. Its government was an oligarchy composed of European Christians who imposed restrictive laws on the indigenous inhabitants. Sumitra (now Solara Asfah), relocated with the blessings of Hope International Missions, an Evangelical missions organization, with Elan (now Tahira Ali) in tow. Within a few weeks of her move, Asfah was sexually assaulted and impregnated. She gave birth to a daughter, whom she named Alia.

Alia Asfah and Tahira Ali were raised by Asfah without outside aid, as the missionary never married. Asfah was also socially ostracized in the conservative community as a direct result of her rape and bastard daughter. Alia possessed superior intellect, and was offered a scholarship to Tokyo International Academy, where she was a boarding student through her early graduation. In Ánár Tynan, Tahira Ali was offered a scholarship to the local Catholic school on behalf of Asfah’s work for Christ. She was a quiet student who rarely participated in class discussions, excelling in math, but performing poorly in the humanities. Tahira Ali graduated with average, if somewhat mediocre, grades in 1968.

In 1965, Tahira Ali met Carlos Hodgson, a young public official in Ánár Tynan. Their acquaintanceship blossomed into a quiet romance, kept in check by the conservative traditions of the community. In July 1986, Hodgson was appointed to the legislative body, a high council, of Ánár Tynan, during the high point of increasing tensions with anarchist rebels and terrorists threatening to overthrow the European ruled regime. The two last saw each other on August 3, 1968, the same day a full scale revolution broke out.

According to the subject, Tahira Ali fled Ánár Tynan later that day. She murdered a family of six, the Abdel Rahman family, and the American reporter, James Elliott, who was escorting the Abdel Rahman family out of the country, to avoid certain death at the hands of the violent revolutionaries. Within two weeks, the European regime disintegrated, Hodgson fled, and the nation was rechristened Mutalistan. In six months time, Sabir Uttar, a charismatic atheist, would take the reins of leadership and establish a dictatorship that fell thirty-eight years later, in 2006.

Tahira Ali took several trains to the Northwest, emerging in Germany a month later, where she murdered thirteen more victims, including US Senator Jordan Normandeau, who had been nominated for the presidency, Catholic Cardinal Srgjam Doshi, and Mohammed Ntamuhanga, the president-elect of Tanzania. She left Germany after another month, arriving in France where she murdered two women, before boarding a transcontinental flight to America under the name Fatima bint Batya.

It was shortly after this that J. Edgar Hoover decided to add Tahira Ali to the FBI Ten Most Wanted List, making her the first woman to be included in the relatively new program. The original reward for her capture was $1 million.

The subject arrived in New York City where she murdered two Americans, one a police officer, before traveling on foot across the country. After this date, the subject disputes which murders she actually committed. Tahira Ali is believed to have murdered at least two dozen others in at least eight other states before traveling abroad once more.

She has been implicated in a number of bombings of churches, synagogues, and interfaith meetings, both domestically and abroad. In 1998, Tahira Ali met with Usama bin Ladin in Pakistan, a meeting attended by Ibrahim El Ghamri, who later became a critical defector for counterterrorism operatives.

According to the subject, Tahira Ali lived in Bethasfah, an island that became an American territory in 1996, and where███████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████
███████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████ until 2006, when Alia Asfah died in an unfortunate accident. In 1996, Alia Asfah gave birth to a daughter, Kami Nobuko, whose birth and preceding pregnancy were kept secret from the general public and the father, the other participant in a one night stand.

After 2006, Tahira Ali states that she became Kami’s sole provider and guardian, albeit outside the law or any legal scrutiny. In June 2013, POTUS Charles Maynard was assassinated, alongside his daughter, Lainey, and a letter claiming responsibility mailed to FBI Headquarters, signed by Tahira Ali. Within two days, the FBI received a phone call from Kami, who had decided to turn in her surrogate mother.

The Hostage Rescue Team was dispatched, along with senior case agent Natalie Schultz of the Tahira Ali task force, to apprehend Tahira Ali. She offered no resistance, and was taken into custody in Honolulu, HI, flown to the mainland the following day, where the subject was detained in USP Hazelton in West Virginia.

Interrogations were initiated that same week, with SAS Natalie Schultz and Cassandra Schwartz questioning, and SAS John Rutledge and Zakariyyah Elaraby observing. During interrogation, the subject confessed with minimal prompting to most of the above mentioned murders, but emphatically denied involvement in any bombings, terrorist plots, or the assassination of the President. She also revealed the circumstances of her birth, debunking common assumptions that Tahira Ali was her given name and Ánár Tynan her birthplace, and prompting a side investigation into her claims, which were validated.

During her arraignment, Tahira Ali stood mute, and a not guilty plea was entered on the defendant’s behalf. She was assigned a public defender, Katherine Gilliam, who worked with two other attorneys in the public defender’s office to prepare the case for her client. US Attorney Evan S. Drummond personally took the subject’s case for prosecution, and after a five month long trial from November 2013 to March 2014, the jury found the subject guilty of all charges. Two months later, at the conclusion of a sentencing hearing that would last two weeks, Judge Miriam Kashani pronounced a death sentence on the defendant, who was then assigned a new attorney for the appeals stage of her case, Gray Sanderson, also of the public defender’s office.

Tahira Ali was incarcerated in ADX Florence, the federal super maximum prison facility where all other terrorist prisoners outside of military custody are confined. This placement was by special exception from the Attorney General, Naazmat Chakladar, as ADX Florence has previously been an all-male facility. In ADX Florence, Tahira Ali is████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████
████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████ special designation.

Her appeals were exhausted this month, and a final execution date of August 21, 2019 has been set by the same court that handed down the subject’s original sentence. At this time, Gray Sanderson, David Almontaser, and Kami Nobuko are the three attendees specified on the prisoner’s behalf. The FBI has ███████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████
████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████ .

There is an oily stain on the last page of this document, and if one looks closely, and with the proper materials, they might see Natalie Schultz's grocery list imprinted from a page written on while leaning on this document. Attached to the staple by accident is a photocopy of a handwritten sheet which reads:

Tahira Ali wrote:
The twenty-ninth day of the fifth month in the year of our Lord two thousand and ninteen [sic]

May the grace and peace of the Lord be with you. Tahira Ali, daughter of Shasta Wadiri Almontaser, to Carlos Hodgson, beloved, dearest friend. May this letter find you in good health and prosperous times.

It was much labor I put into the writing of this epistle, for I feared you might not even open the envelope to see what words I may have to say to you. But yearning won out over fear, and so with great ardor I have penned this, in the most difficult of times. It was long coming, my own understanding of self, and instigated during my own interrogation six years earlier (the question asked concered [sic] the nature of my greatest fear), but now that I think I know what it is I most fear, I have no other recourse but to write you directly.

Though the years are many since I last saw you, and you I, I find it imparative [sic] we meet again, even as I am imprisoned in America. I have been condemned by man and the date of my death is imminent. They say it is close coming, and I know it shall come to pass. The mercy of God is infinite; that of man capricious and wary. But I ask not your mercy, nor your forgiveness. I ask only your presence. If nothing more, beloved, I believe I deserve at least that.

I have been told that in order to initiate this process, you must fill out the attached paperwork and return it to the prison authorties [sic]. Please, do not tarry, the date they have set is the twenty-first day of the eigth [sic] month of this same year. And if you should choose not to see me, then, kindly offer me the courtecy [sic] of a response.

Grace and peace be multiplied unto you, in the name of the Lord God.

Tahira Ali,
signed and sealed this twenty-ninth day of the fifth month

There is nothing further to speak of.

Just Emerald · by **Just Emerald** on Sat Sep 05, 2009 10:16 pm

Gah, knew folk would rip off my presentation ideas... Should've saved it 'til last...

victim130 · by **victim130** on Sun Sep 06, 2009 1:29 am

Is your character still alive, treali storm? If not thats to bad she was cool.

Ulysess · by **Ulysess** on Sun Sep 06, 2009 1:50 pm

Tahira Ali should win! Haha

She's an incredible character. I liked how you blacked out parts of the text, like a real FBI file X3

Zenatsu · by **Zenatsu** on Sun Sep 06, 2009 1:53 pm

I just wonder when the results will come in >.>

Myth · by **Myth** on Sun Sep 06, 2009 2:21 pm

The contest isn't closed till October 5th, I believe.
Most likely the results will be released in mid-October.

Zenatsu · by **Zenatsu** on Sun Sep 06, 2009 2:27 pm

heh... for some reason my mind thought it was supposed to be the 5th of September...

and with that logic one could counter "then why would they give us only two days?" (because i don't read when the post was created >.>)

Man i feel kinda dumb at this point, Cant see why i missed it... only probable answer is when i first read it there must have been a typo and it got fixed... or because i was more focused on what i wanna make and the guidelines. But thanks for pointing that out! >.<

Ylanne · by **Ylanne** on Sun Sep 06, 2009 2:49 pm

If anyone decides to use a template based off of my profile, or using the exact same type of template, please credit me visibly at the top or bottom of your profile. Credit using "Treali Storm (Ylanne)" as the author of the original template.

If anyone decides to use anyone else's profile or template, I think it would be common courtesy to credit whomever had the original idea, whether it is me or not.

. . .I can't wait for the results! My fingers are so crossed!

Zenatsu · by **Zenatsu** on Sun Sep 06, 2009 6:27 pm

Treali Storm wrote:If anyone decides to use anyone else's profile or template, I think it would be common courtesy to credit whomever had the original idea, whether it is me or not.

Ha ha, I think it would dock them a point because of lack of originality. I am in agreement with you however, any work that is used should be cited accordingly. : D

smileythemask · by **smileythemask** on Sun Sep 06, 2009 7:32 pm

I knew I could find a use for Ringmaster Blood one of these days outside of battles.

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

SYNOPSIS
He is the evil Ringmaster of the Blood Carnival

DESCRIPTION
Name: Nile Blood
Name at birth: Nile Itakaru
Alias(es): Ringmaster Blood
Title(s): Ringmaster of the Blood Carnival

Age: 22
Gender: M
Orientation: Straight
Species: Mutant
Race: Caucasian
Ancestry: Native American, German

Height: 6'5
Weight: 180 lbs
BMI: 17.7
Blood type: O-
Diet: Mostly all raw meat, cannibalism

Birthplace: Detroit, Michigan
D.O.B.: October 31, 1986
Residence: The Blood Carnival
Universe: Everything Inside the Blood Carnival
Planet: None

Ageless: Yes
Immortal: No
Age ranking-
Physical age: 20
Mental age: 25
True age: 22

Father: Unknown
Mother: Mary Itakaru
Brother(s): None
Sister(s): None
Children: None
Adoptive: All attractions of the Blood Carnival
Other: None
Marital status: Single

Occupation: Ringmaster of the Blood Carnival
Previous employment: Recruiter for the Halls of Fear
Religion: Atheist
Alignment: Evil
Social class: He is very well known within the area's the Blood Carnival appears
Economic class: Low

Skin color: Pale as a ghost
Hair color: Black
Hair style: Faux Hawk
Eye color: Red
Facial hair: Goatee
Facial features: Medium, Long nose, full lips, round eyes, horns hidden by hat
Body build: Skinny but muscles
Markings: Has tattooed blood lines on both his arms

Clothing-
Head: Top Hat
Neck: N/A
Torso: Red Ringmaster jacket with a white ruffled shirt underneath it.
Legs: Jeans: Red sparkly pants
Shoes: Black Wing-tips
Accessories: White Gloves and a long black cane with a metal skull at the very top

PERSONALITY
Personality: He's a very obnoxious person who loves taunting his viewer's. He has a very bad temper and will lash out at anyone for the smallest little thing

Intelligence-
Bodily-kinesthetic: 100
Interpersonal: 100
Verbal-linguistic: 120
Logical-mathematical: 87
Naturalistic: 100
Intrapersonal: 120
Visual-spatial: 100
Musical: 150
Systems: 150
Social: 130
Emotional: 100
Overall I.Q.: 110

Dominant brain hemisphere: Right
Primary arm: Right

Likes in General: Blood, other's suffering, women, mind games
Dislikes in General: People who see threw his mind games
Hobbies: Playing mind games and performing show's at the Blood Carnival

Words-Per-Minute: 159, full comprehension.
Education: High school learned most of his stuff on his own

Phobias: None
Allergies: None
Diseases: Insanity

Primary Language: English
Secondary Languages: Japanese
Friends: Anyone working at the Blood Carnival
Enemies: The Government
Rivals: N/A

EQUIPMENT
Battle Information:

Weapons-

A black cane with a machine gun inserted into the end of it and knock out gas located in the metal skull

His gloves also have a small razor blade inside each of the finger tips. Ringmaster can make these come out of his gloves and go back in at free will.

Natural Abilities-

Master of Illusion's/Mind Games: He can cause anyone to see anything he wants them to no matter if its good or bad.

Telekinesis: He can lift things with his mind

Combat Styles-

Close Quarter's Combat

Teleportation: No
Flight: No

HISTORY
History: Ringmaster Blood was born Nile Itakaru. He was the only child of a single mom Mary Itakaru since his father left shortly after Nile was born. Nile's mother Mary tried her best to raise Nile into a strong willed person and a good member of society but Nile hated it. He constantly broke rule's and he would always put others down. He also had a strange fascination with blood always wanting to see it. He loved the way it dripped from people's open wounds. He soon learned he loved how it tasted. His mother was worried about Nile's well being so she put him into a psychiatric hospital.

While Nile was there he was constantly abused and was put on many different drugs to try and make his blood lust stop. He was dubbed insane while he was there and put into a special room away from all other patients. He was kept in a straight jacket for about five years until he was fifth-teen. On his fifth-teen birthday he learned something new about himself. He learned that he could make people see whatever he wanted to and actually lift things with his mind. He used this to his advantage and broke out of the hospital.

While living on the streets he wanted to forget all about his past life and his mother. He thought the best way would be to change his last name. Unsure of what to call himself he used his favorite thing in the world, "Blood". The now named Nile Blood wondered for about a year until he found a traveling haunted house called the "Halls of Fear". He got a job there recruiting new people to "work" there. The truth about it was that nobody worked at the halls of fear really. People would be trapped there and turned into a monster. He worked there until he was eight-teen when he wanted to become the new owner of the Halls of Fear and make it a lot better. When he was rejected he ran away from the halls wanting to start a new place. He called it "The Carnival of Blood" with himself as the ringmaster.

The new Ringmaster Blood started up a band of freak's and outcast for his show and soon learned how to travel to different world's and universe's to bring his carnival. He has become pretty famous and he is also wanted by the police on many different planets for murder, cannibalism, and kidnapping.

Battle Theme: Dig
Performed By: Mudvayne
Album: L.D. 50
Record label: Epic Records

Theme Song: A New Game
Performed By: Mudvayne
Album: A New Game
Record label: Epic Records

Quote: "Want Some Candy"

Talisman · by **Talisman** on Mon Sep 07, 2009 7:05 pm

I found something odd in the guidelines and pointers from the staff. One guide line is: No Fictional Characters (Ergo, pre-existing in some medium, anime, TV, books etc)

While a pointer is: Unique and creative characters, don't tie yourself down to whats been done!

Now, how can I not tie myself down to what has already been done, but then make a character that is already pre-existing? Meh, that just caught my eye. I will tell the story of my Character in his own words. He is fictional, but I just want to do this. At any rate~

~

Hello! My name is Yuri! Full name actually is Yuri Saigo Honoo. Nifty huh? Means Lily of the Last Flame. I believe it suits me very much. Anyway, I believe I am in my... Late twenties? Maybe 28? Heh, I lost count. I don't keep up with my birthdays, it's just another day alive after all. Oh yeah, I am a man, if that is not clear. Hmph

Hmm what's next? Well, Some say my face looks exactly like my brother's. Slightly angler with a pronounced chin that shows my proud nature. A smallish nose between my high cheekbones. My eyes. Oh my eyes, they are completely my own. I would describe them as wild and relentless with a deep dark brown color, wide almost feral at times. Of course... There is that thin scar that cuts down my left eye. I'll tell you that story later. My mouth, well my lips is thin and there is always a smile tugging at my lips. A wilder smile at other times, heh. My forehead is covered in a red headband, which keeps the sweat out of my eyes, duh. The deep dark unruly brown hair I have is completely my own as well.

I would say my body is lithe and tall, a good six foot. I don't have much weight, at 175 pounds, not bad, eh? Of course you can't see it under my red cloak and tight black sleeveless shirt under the cloak. The red sash keeps up my silver stitched black pants and keeps me from tripping over my silver-metal boots. These bracers here and the engraving of a lily in the silver metal were my brother's, the engraving being my family mark. As were these swords. These katana like swords are slightly curved, like a katana, but the hilts are a bit shorter. Ichiryuu, my right sword, has a red hilt and Hitsuki, my left sword, has a blue hilt. Both blades are a red tint and emanate heat. Well, that's because Hitsuki and Ichiryuu isn't just the swords names, but the spirits of the phoenixes in the swords. Their colors are reflected in the corresponding hilts.

I was trained by my brother in the various position of the swords, such as both upright, both upside down, and the left one upright and right upside down. High Noon, Falling Dusk, and Rising Sun, respectively. I mainly use Rising Sun, as that is the most versatile position.

Now, my past. Well, I was born in the southern deserts, near an oasis. No surprise the village was called Oasis, huh? My mother died after my birth, and my father? Well, I never knew him. He was killed in a war. I heard stories of how great of warrior he was. But my brother, heh, the one I've been talking about for a while? His name was Lucas. He took care of me, teaching me about life. Of course, he was a high ranking captain in the army, in the war my father died in. It was a long and terrible war from what I heard, but I never got directly involved.

Now, I said "Was his name" as he.. Isn't with us anymore. You see, when I was ten or eleven (like I said, not good with birthdays) he was killed. Hell I almost died. See, he was home visiting the town and me. Then the next day he was home, we were attacked by a bunch of black hearted mercenaries who called themselves "The Jade Company". All they are are a group of bastards. Anyway, they attacked in the morning in a surprise attack. Cowards. They slaughtered everyone in the village, even my brother. They killed him while he was trying to protect me. Then they came after me. One of them cut me across my left eye, hence the scar. Almost lost that eye. I blacked out afterwords. They must have left me for dead, I would have, I wasn't in good shape. I suppose they attacked the village because of my brother's position in the army. I came to later, crawled over to my brother. I grabbed his swords and used them to pull myself a good ways to the line where the desert and forest meet, that's where I lost conscious again. When I awoke, I was in the care of an elderly couple living in the forest. They nursed me back to health... Well, good enough anyway. I left and started walking. I haven't stopped since. That was many years ago. I plan on finding the bastards who did that to my village and stop them from doing that again. I promise this.

While my brother was alive, he instilled a few beliefs in me. Always get back up, Never back down from anything, and always keep fighting no matter what. That what makes me Yuri, that what makes me relentless.

Now if you don't mind, I got a bit of an alcohol problem I plan to solve, do you know where the nearest bar is? I want a good mug of brandy. Recounting my past makes me thirsty... What? Some people say my personality is hard headed, determined and a bit unpredictable. Myself, well, I say I have a fiery passion in whatever I do, and fierce loyalty to my friends. I am also a borderline alcoholic and am terrified of heights. Yes, the damn heights get to me. Live on a flat plain all your life and see how you like high places.

Now, if you please, I believe I have an adventure to find. I love adventures and a good fight every now and then. Some call me relentless. I would have to agree.

I hope you liked my story, you won't hear many of them like it. and with that, I bid you farewell. Remember to never back down, and keep fighting.
~

Yes, first person. Unique no?

Kunoichi26 · by **Kunoichi26** on Mon Sep 07, 2009 8:50 pm

A Profile of Smára as Described by Ryan Ford in his Journal

The details and information disclosed in this profile are taken from the writings of Dr. Ryan Ford, PhD. in Artificial Biology and former head of the Biosynthetic Research Department, and the journal he had written during his captivity in Africa. As he was not aware that his journal would one day be published, it has been difficult to sort through the meandering thoughts and post a concise profile of the native he befriended. The profile below has been arranged by Dr. Sarah Ford, PhD. in Biosynthetic Anthropology.

Name:

The name Smára is pronounced first with a slight smacking of the lips, like the “sma” in smack. But then the voice suddenly lowers in pitch to growl the “r” before pronouncing the final “a” gently. The stress lies in the first syllable. I have tried time and time again to pronounce it correctly, but human vocal chords are not made for such bestial sounds as a growl.

Ryan went through great effort to learn the language of the natives during his captivity, and according to his notes it was Smára who took the time to teach him. He was never content with his mastery over the language, and he always tells me that a native would never mistaken the word growmr (anger) for growmrr (hatred).

Gender:

Female, an unfortunate position to be in this primitive society.

Soon after Ryan consented to publishing his journal he told me many of his regrets. In the beginning he had often considered the people he lived with as primitive, or barbaric, an opinion that was only fueled by his anger at seeing the women treated so poorly and the ownership of slaves so rampant. In later writing, however; he admits that they are far more sophisticated than he had at first believed, and women’s power to bear children gives them many more privileges than he had first thought.

Species:

It is difficult to determine the species, as there are no records of such a creature, but I have dubbed them the name vampyre, or Nosferatu wampyrus, for the heavy symbolism with blood in their culture and their nocturnal nature. They call themselves the Shadow People, or Shagrassi.

As a scientist, Ryan always had pride on knowing every species on the African continent, so it was a disappointment to him that he didn’t know this one.

Description:

Her body is smooth and agile as a cat in the moonlight, her enormous, bat like wings hang like folded shadows that cling underneath the scraggly trees of her savannah home. She has skin rich and deep as ripe charcoal, save for the symbol that scars her shoulder and binds her freedom as surely as steel chains- primitive lines that represent claws tearing deep into the face of the full moon like the name of her master, Moon Scratcher. But her body is poised and smooth, like a house cat sitting on a fence, never betraying her humble fate of servitude. Even the way she dips the bag into the river is like the movements of water itself. Her feline eyes are like golden honey, the thin, catlike pupils large and almost round in the darkness. Her large ears swivel this way and that like a fox, attentive to every sound, every rustle in the dry grass behind her. She curls her long, sinuous tail around her leg as she crouches at the moist river bank, and the fleshy, spaded tip flicks away an irritating insect. The thin claws on her toes grip the moist earth, then retract again into the smooth skin like those of a cat.

The woman straightens, the many beads at her neck jangling against the thick leather collar embroidered with carved bone. It ties her to her fate, just as the thick leather bands around her wrists, and the scars that crisscross her back and overlap scars of another time, a happier age when she was free. They are beautiful scars, these echoes of her freedom, intricate tattoos like patterned alligator skin on her back, her stomach, her breasts…symbols of her fertility and motherhood. The family she once had. But that is all in the past, and she twists closed the neck of the bag made from a cow’s stomach with thin, clawed fingers. Her work here is done, and it is a long journey home.

Ryan always told me that Smára was particularly beautiful for her species, and the evidence of this is littered all over his journal in the form of rough and nearly completed sketches. It is a habit of his to draw whatever creature he is studying, and his journal is filled with hurried ink drawings of the people, their jewelry, the hoshgr, the surrounding land and the creatures he saw, even a detailed self portrait, though he has never liked artists that did such things. But when I asked he waved away the comment and simply told me he had his reasons, the sketch wasn’t very good anyway, and all I had to do was read the journal and find out for myself.

Personality:

Smára is resilient, stubborn, and willing to risk any and all to return to her family. She has taught me, an utter stranger and fellow slave, a human no less, her language and her culture. She is even willing to learn my language. She doesn’t look at me with disgust or pity. In fact, it is perhaps because of her that the thirst for freedom still burns within me. Even though it is difficult to admit this to myself, I must say that if it weren’t for her insistence, her enthusiasm and passion, I would have the same hollow gaze in my eyes as the other slaves. She is understanding, willing to listen to my problems (when I finally gather the courage to tell them), and she resists the bonds of slavery. She refuses to be broken, and even in the presence of the chieftain there is a fire in her eyes though she keeps her head respectfully bent. She is no fool.

Ryan does not talk about his captivity or the people he met during that time very often, but when he does, his admiration for the native is evident in his voice and his eyes. He tries very hard to show me that he loves me and he never thought of her in a romantic light, and his journal is proof that all he wanted was to come home, but sometimes I cannot help but feel jealous of her.

History: Not much is known about her past, but Ryan retells a conversation in his journal.

…It suddenly occurred to me that I had never asked her about her past life before slavery. We had always talked about me.

“What are they like?”

“My family? I have good husband who cares for me, and two strong sons. Big rains have passed six times since their birth, and they starting to fly when I was taken.” A pained expression passed her face, but it was gone so suddenly that I thought maybe I was imagining it.

“What happened?” I picked up some dry grass and starting ripping it. She sighed, her accent thick with emotion as she smiled.

“It was beautiful night. Grahair played with little Kigrr and Shagrow, and I watched.” She slipped into her own language as her eyes grew bright and wet with tears. “The stars were out, the night as dark and smooth as my husband’s black skin. But then Grahair heard hunters in the rustling grass, and he left the children to investigate. A monster with crimson markings of blood painted on his body and a long, silver scar slashed over his face pounced on Grahair with a mighty roar that paralyzed the children with fear.” I let the pieces of grass fall through my fingers, my throat tight when Smára described Kramptr.

“I could not stay to watch my husband fight,” she continued. “I took the children and flew with them to a secret place. I left them there, they knew to stay hidden, and I returned to where my husband was. The raiders were everywhere, taking women, children, cattle, destroying what they couldn’t take, and before I reached my love the monster Grouthrr took me.” My gut twisted as I pictured the scene. The village shrouded with darkness as monsters decorated with grisly war paint wreaked havoc in the peaceful village. Men dying as they tried to protect their homes and their families, and the women, children, and animals are taken as prizes for the victors to do with as they will. Terror runs like blood through the panicked chaos that reigns in the village, and fire sides with the enemy as homes are burnt down and destroyed. Families are rent apart, and many are lost to the wicked dagger claws and teeth of the victors. How terrible must it be not to know if a loved one is alive or dead. The ache in the heart that never leaves, was it worse than knowing their grisly fate?

Ryan identified with Smára very well in this light, and she managed to form a connection with him that I could probably never achieve. They both lost someone upon their abduction, they both experienced the terrors of slavery, and they both planned their escape. That two complete strangers with different backgrounds, different cultures…two entirely different species could learn to trust each other under such circumstances is simply wonderful, and it shows the wonders of human nature. Humans are social creatures, and even in situations that a person is left with no one they will be drawn to nurture, to speech, to a gentle touch. Ryan and Smára’s behavior proves that species means nothing as long as there is understanding.

But I too, can understand the terror of losing someone. The search had long since been called off when Ryan returned after nearly ten years. Ten long years he had been missing, and he reappeared as if death itself had released its dark hold on him. He’s a changed man, so different than the one I married, yet so similar. He tells me that his experience was for the best, and his only regret is that it took so many years lost in the wilderness to realize that he should have been home with his wife instead of chasing after monsters.

Vampyre:

The creatures I have dubbed vampyres are given many names…The Cold Ones, the [naga] serpents call them. The elves- Lostha, or Shadow People. Wherever one goes on this vast continent, their names are whispered with a mixture of revulsion and fear, and a trading caravan may never cross the plains without weapons and goods to exchange for safe passage.

Vampyres are nomadic creatures, roaming from one area to the next as food and green pastures are in good supply. They herd cattle, a sturdy, nimble giant of a breed which they call Grrha. The Grrha are an essential part of Vampyre life and culture, and the vampyre never wastes any part of the beast. The men drink the animal’s blood mixed with its milk for strength, eat the meat during times of scarcity, trade the animals for wives. The more cattle a man has, the wealthier and more prestigious he is in society, because then he can afford more wives and slaves. The hides of the cattle are used for the tentlike huts known as hoshgr, clothing, and even the cow’s stomachs are used as water skins. Even the skeleton, bleached white in the sun, never goes to waste. The bones are carved for use in jewelry, needles, tools, and instruments, and they form the all important symbol of eternity in the bone beads that are sewn into the collars of slaves.

While vampyre scrimshaw is highly valued amongst traders in markets such as the one in Marrakesh, vampyres are also known for their eclectic way of life. They have no weapons, for they have lethal fangs, claws like needles, and the men have two barbs hidden in the fleshy tips of their spaded tails that can flick out like the claws of a cat with deadly accuracy. They are creatures built for killing, shadows in the darkness that can strike a fatal blow before their prey had even realized what happened. Their great wings are powerful tools, and a favorite strategy is gliding like a giant bat in the night sky to suddenly freefall onto the unsuspecting prey like a hawk. When first I saw such a feat I was breathless with wonder, for it is truly amazing to see such a large creature suspended in the air on such delicate membranes. Who would have thought that it was possible to have a creature that stands at little over five feet on its hind legs, almost sixty pounds, with the ability to fly?

A vampyre’s feline nature gives them other abilities as well…The large, almost batlike ears are excellent for capturing sound, and they have an acute sense of smell like that of a cat. They are incredibly flexible and agile, and far stronger than they appear because of the pure, wiry muscle. They can easily lift me, a two-hundred pound man, and throw me against the ground with hardly any more effort than if I were a child, though their small size complicates this somewhat. Lifting me during flight, however, is impossible, for not only would they never get off the ground, they may very well strain their muscles and even break the fragile wing digits.

A vampyre’s main weaknesses are its sensitive hearing, the delicate wings, and the nocturnal eyes, which are highly sensitive to light. Pulling on the prehensile tail is also painful, though touching it holds no more embarrassment to them than holding a hand. The tail is in fact as necessary to a vampyre as their hands, and they use it for balance as well as everyday use such as holding objects. In fact, since slaves and those of lesser status walk on all four limbs when someone of higher status is present (a problem I encounter often since the human body is not built that way), a vampyre will use its tail as often as its hands, and it is not uncommon to see the flexible appendage coiled around a bowl, a bag, or some other item like that of a monkey.

Though it is not directly mentioned here, Ryan also describes how vampyres use their tails and even their wings in a fight. In his notes, Ryan recounts several occasions that he has either witnessed a fight or had personally taken part in physical combat (due to a need for self preservation), and he observed that vampyres rely more on agility and speed in battle instead of brute strength. They dart and twist around their opponent, using their wings, tails, feet, and even their fangs to weaken an opponent before dealing the final blow, which is usually a strike at the throat or the stomach. Ryan tells me that he would often have small sparring matches with Smára and his master’s children so that he could learn to defend himself from attack. Even though he had some protection as a slave, being human in the midst of a species so much stronger and deadlier than he posed a very dangerous problem if he didn’t know how to fight.

The following is an excerpt from Ryan’s journal detailing the structure of a hoshgr:

Blodrekka rolled out the walls onto the ground near the edge of what the village would be, and the children inspected the thin, crisscrossed slats for any cracks or weaknesses. Seeing none, Blodrekka, Bein, and I carefully lifted the walls so they stood upright and I walked until they formed a circular shape. Bein lashed the doorframe to the two edges of the wall, and I watched as she tightened the leather thongs so that wide strips of leather were firmly secured around the wooden skeleton of wall. It wouldn’t do to have the wall expanding with the weight of the roof, so the wide bands wrapped tightly around the top and middle of the dwelling.

My master ordered me to hold a support for the wooden ring that would be the center of the roof, the smoke hole, and I held the support pole firmly while Blodrekka and Bein lashed down the thin strips of wood that made the roof. Occasionally one would fall, and I bit back a growl as the pole hit my shoulder as it fell. Once the roof had been set in place and the support pole was no longer needed, I helped my masters drag the heavy, tent like covering over the skeleton of the hoshgr.

“Don’t let it snag on the poles,” Blodrekka warned, and I was particularly careful when I coaxed the hide’s edge over the center hole with an extra shaft of wood.

Ryan writes details on vampyre clothing and beauty.

Vampyres have little use for clothing in the heat of the African plains, for it would only hamper their movement and freedom necessary for flight. Clothing is limited and simple, often made with treated animal hides and embellished with bone. Men wear little else other than a sort of skirt made from animal hide stretched over their hips called a hishki, often heavily decorated with carved beads of bone, some even died varying hues of red, blue, or yellow. Women wear the hishki as well, and those who are married also wear a hide to cover their breasts, which is attached to something like a bone necklace. There are no ties to support the back of the crude top, for that would limit the movement of their wings.

Jewelry is popular among the women, especially younger generations, and the more carved necklaces one has jangling around her slender neck the better. Each necklace often represents something such as a particular skill or role in society, how many children, her loyalty to her husband, etc…Smára has quite a few necklaces of carved bone from her past: one representing her skill as a seamstress, another with bone dyed red to show her love for her husband and the two sons she bore him. Other necklaces show her birth and how many seasons have passed, and another was one her husband had made for her and gave her during the marriage ceremony.

Other forms of jewelry are arm bands, wrappings for their tails, and even bone piercings. The males usually participate in the latter more often than the females, and it is common to see carved bone pierced through an ear or wing membrane, sometimes through the skin on the male’s chest. But far more common than bone piercings is scarification. It is used most often as a test of strength or rite of passage. When a young male reaches maturity there is a special ceremony in which varying tests of strength are performed. One of those tests is to cut patterns into the skin, and the more numerous and intricate the patterns the stronger he is considered to be. Depending on how the wounds are scratched out, they may heal as small, nearly inconspicuous scars for detailed work, or large, protruding blemishes that advertise a male’s strength and daring. The scars are rather similar in appearance to crocodile skin or dragon’s scales, and the small, raised bumps may align together like scales on a man’s back, coil around a shoulder, and twist in intricate patterns along the torso, arms, and legs.

Women also participate in this practice, but for them the scars are more a symbol of luck and good fortune, a means of aiding their fertility and blessing them with sons for their husband. During the marriage ceremony, a woman will receive patterned scars along her back, her breasts, and her stomach, and when the woman is about to give birth to a child white mud will be painted over these scars to give them [the scars] power and ease her suffering (though medicinal herbs are also used for the same purpose).

For slaves such as Smára and myself scars hold another meaning. They are like a branding, a sign of ownership…and my master carved the symbol of his name on my shoulder with his own claws, a scar that shows me and everyone who sees it that I belong to him. Each symbol is different depending on the master- mine is reminiscent of a drop of blood, for Blood Drinker, and the scar on Smára’s shoulder represents the full moon with three claws rending through it. The lines are simple and primitive, only limited circles and straight lines, but their meaning is all too clear…

I can only imagine how painful it must have been to have such a symbol carved into his skin. Ryan has never told me anything about the time he received it, and all I know are the thoughts he has written in his journal. Sometimes I catch him tracing the mark with his fingers, or rubbing his neck where the collar used to be as if he could still feel its ghost at his throat. What has become of the native I wonder? I have asked him, but he says he doesn’t know, only that they were separated during their final escape. He is certain that she was successful, but I am afraid that he clings to a fool’s hope.

SinTakai · by **SinTakai** on Mon Sep 07, 2009 11:11 pm

Name: TheMaster
Password: ***************

Logging in...

Log In Success...

Accessing Database...█

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\Postwar Admin. Bureau Report #6690 /
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Name: Takai, Sin
Height: 5'6"
Weight: 123 lbs
Birthday: Jan 20 (Presumed)
Blood Type: Unanalyzable
Race: Humanoid Gear ( Dragon Wolf Genetically Engineered )

Personality:

Mostly joking around all the time but knows how to be serious when it's needed. Has a very short temper.

Equipment

Two Crescent Blades made by his late wife that he cherishes like he cherished her, some would even say that her spirit resides in them.

He also uses two modified .44 magnums for long distance fights. The guns each have a silver cross on their handles, their names being "Virtue" and "Judgment"

Main weapons are his claws and fangs.

Wears a black dragon hide vest and baggy camo pants and sometimes a cloak.

Right Auto-Mail Arm: Due to him losing his right arm when he attempted to bring back a close friend of his, his mechanic gave him a Auto-Mail arm, which he modified. The arm also contains shards of the legendary Philosopher's Stone, giving him the ability to ignore the law of equivalent exchange in alchemy, but they don't work all the time.

Powers:

The Right Takai Eye ( The Right Eye Of Death ) - Gives him the possibility to analyze the energy in the air and bind it to his will, thus instantly forging new types of magic, anything is possible to him, the Spell Weaver.

Left Data Eye: his left eye has a implant in it that allows him to analyze the genetic code of others and the flow and composition of magical energies.
Left Data Eye Overpower: When he focuses extreme amounts of energy into his left eye he is able to read his opponent's moves, making it seem, for him, that the flow of time is slowed.

Master Alchemist: Sin is a Master Alchemist, giving him the ability to transmute.

Spell Weaver: Using his right eye to analyze the flow and composition of magical energies and his Kingdom's bloodline trait Sin can use other's spells against them by altering the magical energy that is used against his and forge a new spell from it. He can also forge new spells in a blink of a eye from his own magical energies.

Genetic Transmutation: Using his alchemical powers he can alter his own genetic structure in order to remove, add or modify his own genes.

Data Drainer: A combination between the Left Data Eye and Genetic Transmutation; it allows him to copy someone's genetic structure and his energy network, thus copying his power.

Dragon Heritage: The blood of the ancient dragon race flows through his veins, he only takes 1/3 of the damage given by spells (Ancient Spells deal full damage since they're the weak point of all dragons) and weapons (Godly Weapons, meaning weapons forged by the gods, semi-gods or their messengers also deal full damage)

History

He was born as the heir to the throne of the Kingdom Of Ibara, which fell during the war, when he was still young. He was then captured by the enemies of Ibara and brought to a underground facility which wanted to use his royal blood and body as a weapon, so they modified his genetic code, adding genes from wolves and dragons.

After 5 years the experiment was finished and he was re-awakened but something in his mind came back to live also, giving him most of his memories back. When he remembered what happened to his family and kingdom he went berserk and slaughtered most of the scientists that altered his body. After a long time since he escaped, and got rid of those who would seek to harm him or use him as a weapon, he made his home in the forest of Hyetsu, a place where, at that time, nothing but ancient trees and shadows ruled.

He was quite happy in his new home, until he met a girl that came to the forest to gather herbs for her grandmother, but got lost. He helped her find the herbs and find her way back to her home, but was attacked by the villagers, who found him as a threat to their peaceful community. He went back into the forest to hide from his pursuers and since that day the girl, Rose, visited him daily, and step by step they fell in love and got married and had a daughter. A few years after, war broke again and Rose went to war along with his dearly beloved, but fell there. Now he lives alone in his lonely forest, and sometimes even plays the ocarina, a musical instrument that is most dearly to him.

He spent millenniums there, realizing that he never grew old due to his genes, no matter how much time passed, he soon became The Lord of Shadows, recognized by the Shadow Council as the greatest elemental master in the world, due to the fact that he could instantly forge new spells with a thought, which also earned him the nickname of "The Spell Weaver"

Several years have passed and his name was forgotten in the flow of time, until he met his old war friend 'Nereus' who told him that he needs to return to civilization once more and gave him the chance to go with him to "The Gambit's Bar" a place where he could socialize with other people and make new friends. At first he refused the offer under the pretext that he was doing very well by himself and he didn't need so called new friends to slow him down. In truth he didn't want to because he was worried that they might end up hurt because of him. After much persuasion from the man, he finally decided to follow him to 'The Gambit's Bar', the place Nereus told him about. There he made a series of friends and held several battles too, although he lost the will to fight a long time ago, after the second war, something determined him to go on, not give up. He once again opened his old shadow association known as 'The Assassin's Guild' and is currently looking for talented young warriors to take their place among his ranks.

Words Of Wisdom (Preferred Quotes)

"I am me and nothing more, and I am proud of what I am."

Said to a lot of people

You shouldn't think of me as a monster. I'm just doing what I have to do and make sure that I hurt few, there's no need for innocent blood to be shed.

Said to the Ronnin that attacked the Gambit's Bar completely at random, the last thing the Ronnin heard.

Truly if there is evil in this world... It lies within the heart of mankind.

Said often

Meh.

Said VERY often

OI! Don't pick on me! I'm a complete idiot when my job doesn't require me to be smart. I'm just cute, fluffy and harmless until you try to hurt me, my friends or try to steal my girl and my car.

Said to Rune Storm

Me Big! Me Strong! Me Pee In Plate And No Splash!

Said to a few of his friends as a joke.

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\End Of Postwar Admin. Bureau Report #6690 /
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Jadeling Hawkins · by **Jadeling Hawkins** on Fri Sep 11, 2009 8:23 am

Ah, dear, darling users. There are some great profiles up so far! But I feel I must make a humble plea...offer a simple hint which you may feel free to ignore completely...

Stop posting entire books!!

Something I have noticed about some of these profiles (while great, truly!) is that they are exceedingly long. If I was a GM and you posted a profile that took me more than three turns of the mouse wheel to read through, I would reply with a blunt "TL;DR." (translation: too long; didn't read).

It is wonderful, healthy, and makes babies laugh that you are proud of what you have created. But a profile should be just that: a profile. A sample-sized portion, not an eight-course meal. The meal is the story, the game, the development of your character within the text with which you put them to work! Putting every little detail of every adventure and a five-page notation on the direction your character prefers to sneeze in is comparable to the streaker you see making a mad dash at the mall while screeching out their political, religious and philosophical beliefs and throwing photos of their family vacation in the air. Nothing is left to the imagination; you've seen it all, so why would you bother following through?

Good luck, all!

Kunoichi26 · by **Kunoichi26** on Fri Sep 11, 2009 8:49 am

Oops, I guess I over did it. For some reason I overlooked the part of it being a rpg profile and instead wrote a full blown profile. I hope it's okay. I would have to argue that there is quite a lot not mentioned about my character though. In fact, I was afraid I had focused too much on the character who had written the journal and not the character I was supposed to have a profile of!

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