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Well, I figured why not start fresh. So I'm calling this one CD I. I will post the rules shortly.

To add a character, use a template similar to this for a base:

*New Character*

Name: ------

Age: -----


Description: ------

Here are the Official Rules for the Character Development Thread:

I. You shall at no time kill in one post. Any such action will be ignored.

Amendment 1. You may only kill with the creator's consent or if they agree to a high risk fight.

Amendment 5. If three players other than the killer agree that a players death is fair that player must die.

II. You shall at no time take control of another person's character. Any such action will be ignored.

Amendment 2. You may only take control of another person's character with their expressed consent.

Amendment 6. You may make another character's character block or move little but nothing that could affect the outcome of the battle.

III. No explicit cursing of any kind. Any such action will be reported to the Moderators.

IV. No bashing the character of another person. This means the actual person not the fictional character. Any malicious actions will be dealt with by the Mods (Renddslow first, then if its really bad, Arem. But that'll never happen...right?)

V. If someone thinks a battle is getting to violent they must post their opinion in parenthesis and then two other people must back that person up. The two engaged in battle must then resolve their conflict in the next four posts.

Amendment 3. If the proposition is three days old a new one must be proposed.

VI. For a new rule to be made it must be posted in parenthesis and agreed on by two people beside the one who proposed it. It will then be inserted into the rules.

Amendment 4. If the new rule is not established in three days it must be proposed again.

VII. To get rid of a rule one person must propose to get rid of it and three other people must agree with that person.

Amendment 4.1. If the motion isn't passed in three days you have to propose it again.

VIII. A dead character may be revived but only if they died less than ten pages ago and three people vote to bring that character back.

IX. This is a RPG not an RPS, so god-modding and game mastering is not tolerated. However, you may use your character to initiate a new story path.

Amendment 7. Story plots involving the end of the world, Armageddon, etc. will not be tolerated. (It has ruined us in the past) General rule of thumb: If the story will have to be reset, topic closed, or new topic started because of a story arc, don't start said story arc.)

Amendment 8. Large battles/wars are allowed. By all means. (Cause I missed the last one)

Final Rule: Any who disobeys these rules over three times will be henceforth ignored by the players of this game, in this gamethread. The only way one may be reinstated in the game is for all current players to agree that The Punished may be allowed to enter. If The Punished ever breaks the rules again, they will be banished from this game...and/or let Arem deal with you.

6/10/2010 . Edited 6/10/2010 #1

Name: Ronald Stiles

Age: 28 Height: 6" 1'

Description: A young historian with a violent past. He is tall and muscular, and has many scars on his face. He is never caught without a gun in his belt, and a knife in his pocket.


Ronald walked out of the library and lit up immediatly. He was annoyed. He had been searching everywhere for record of some country that seemed to not exist, except for the fact that he had over a thousand books in his library containing myths, histories, and poetry of that country. He flicked the hardly smoked cigarette onto the ground, and fumbled in his coat pocket for something. Upon finding it, he pulled it out. It was crumbled envelope addressed to him. He opened it up again for probably the twentieth time that day. The envelope was empty, but on the inside of the flap was an address and a date. The date was today, and the address was somewhere across town.


Ronald walked to his van and got in. He was about to toss the envelope onto the floor when he noticed a glimmer off the top left hand corner. He crawled into the back of his van and pushed his mattress aside. He looked on the shelves that contained all his research, and then at the labeled boxes of books that contained all that was left of that world. He shook his head and focused on what he was doing back here. He slid a metal drawer out and inspect the contents. He set the drawer on the ground and pulled out a second one. Again, no luck. He shoved them both to the side and moved back up to the front seat. He fished under the passenger's seat until at last, he found it. It was a metal box. He pulled the necklace off of his neck which held the key, and unlocked the box. Inside were many important items. There was a picture of him, a woman, and a child. A picture of him wearing an army uniform standing behind his parents. And among other things, a dog tag. But these weren't what he was searching for. He pulled out a plastic bag with a miniature forensics kit. He laid the envelope on the front seat and began to work. When he was done, he had revealed next to nothing. Except for two things: one, the return address was to a Mr. M Hattigan, addressed simply at the Clocktower, C/O A Tweedle. Secondly, on the inside flap there was more under the address. It also said: 10 PM. Follow the white rabbit. Ronald looked at his watch, 9:45. Isn't that always how it is with impatient writers? He thought. He got back into the driver's seat, put the car into gear, and drove off to find where he was supposed to be. At exactly 9:55 he pulled into a parking lot in front of an old warehouse. There was no one hear yet, but he decided he should probably go in awhile. He got out of the van and walked to the back. He opened the back doors and lifted a fake bottom to reveal an arsenal of weapons. He pulled out a P-90 and strapped it to his back under his leather jacket. He also pulled out a Browning HP and strapped it to his belt. He was about to close things up, but he decided, just to play it safe, he better bring along a few knives. So he pulled out a belt of knives and a bullet-proof vest, and put them both on. He then zipped up his jacket to hide his weapons. He then closed up the van, and headed for the door of the warehouse. He was surprised to find it open, and a light on in the distance. It made him nervous, so he pulled out his sidearm, turned off the safety, and slowly made his way toward the light. When he reached the light he found a table in an opening. He looked back over his shoulder and could clearly see the door through the "hallway" of crates. There were several other "hallways" that could lead a person to or from the table, but Ronald decided not to chance a look around. He carefully sat down, still keeping the door in sight, and put his gun away, but keeping a tight grip on it. Now all he had to do was wait.

6/10/2010 . Edited by Fleur-de-lis Evans, 2/26/2011 #2

Name: Cathleen Tjernagel

Age: 22

Species: Elf Height: 5'6"

Hair: Long, black, curly

Eyes: Blue

Skin color: Medium tan

A bit of history: Cathleen's parents are members of an elf Cult. Her mother, Lillian, gave Cathleen to a friend, Zake Tjernagel, for him to raise her. Cathleen adopted his last name. A month of Zake taking care of her, he freaked. He no longer could take care of a baby, so his mother took her in. She died and Cathleen was passed onto a family in Denver. They abused and put her to work. She escaped at sixteen. The Cult found her and gave her a chance to join. She accepted. Since then she has been trained to kill humans and supports the Cult's cause. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Cathleen headed down the street towards the given address. She wore jeans and a black t-shirt. Her hair was braided back to show her pointed ears. It had been a long time since she felt ashamed to be an elf. The only reason she was here was to recruit a teenage boy. Usually, she hated doing the recruiting, it just felt like an insult to her skill, but this elf had been giving the Cult some troubles. If he wouldn't join then she would simply just force him or else he would need to face death. Any elf that didn't join their cause was just as bad as the humans. The humans had forced them into hiding, so the Cult would slowly start to repeat history with the tables turned. It was only fair. Somewhere on two other streets were her friends Apollo Westen and Jonathan Pitkin. They were also her mentors. Together they had trained her into what she was today. The street had plenty of humans crawling on it, enough for at least one of them to see her. If things got ugly she hoped it would be a blood bath for the unfortunate witnesses.

6/10/2010 . Edited by Fleur-de-lis Evans, 2/26/2011 #3

Name: Johnny Kirk

Age: 8

Description: Johnny has lived on the streets ever since he could remember. He was abandoned by some j*** of a parent, or maybe they'd been killed. In whatever case, he was alone. He was "taken in" when he was four by one of the most notorious mob lords in New Seen City. But unfortunately, his rule came to an end a year later. So again Johnny was on his own. But his life as the son of a practical monarch left an impression on him. He had a goal. He would become like that man. The man who was a father to him. He knew he was young, but that gave him the advantage. At age 6, he began running errands for some lesser mobsters, and occasionally a gang leader or two. But he always played on the low end of things. He didn't want to commit himself to a serious mob king, and then fail and get killed, or worse, be looking over his shoulder all the time fearing death.


Now he was eight. He had garnered quite a name for himself. Now it wasn't look for work, work looked for him. And he got payed quite the sums of money too. Not that he needed it. What could an eight year old who wanted to become a mob king do with money? Most black marketers scoffed at him when he tried to bye weapons. The only thing he had was his name and a pocket knife his "father" gave him.

He looked at the address scrawled on the back of a wanted poster. His poster. The address led into what he always thought of as the light side of the city. He thought back to a movie his father had shown him. It was called the Lion King. His father used it to teach him about their world. "Everything the light touches is our kingdom," Mufasa said. "And everything the darkness hides, is ours," Johnny's father had told him. The address lay in the light side, out of the physical reach of the mobs. They dared not ever try to stretch out their hands and take it for themselves. He had been given this assignment right out in the open.

A man had grabbed his shoulder. Acting like a little kid, Johnny kicked him in the shin. But the man must have been wearing medal shin guards. His toes still hurt. He turned, but the man was standing directly in front of the setting sun, and all Johnny saw was a silhouette. The silhouette of a man in a top-hat. The man handed him his wanted poster, then left. The poster was wrapped around a couple hundred dollar bills.

He walked out under the street lamp to examine the paper better. If the address was correct, he was to go to a warehouse. A van was parked in the lot, and he saw a young woman walking in the same direction as he. He checked the blade of the knife on his index finger—drew blood with a touch—and headed to the entrance.

6/10/2010 . Edited by Fleur-de-lis Evans, 2/26/2011 #4

Aaron sat in the cafe sipping his English breakfast tea with milk and plenty of sugar, and glancing through news headlines on his netbook. He didn't look like the typical geek, nor like the typical suburbanite, yet here he was in his European fit, rib knit turtle neck and BDU pants, both black. Occasionally he glanced out the window over the top of the 10 inch screen, letting his eyes wander.

He did a double take. She had pointy ears! Pointy ears and a beauty not common among women of h*** sapiens sapiens. Possibly an elf? The corner of his mouth twitched up involuntarily for a moment. This was, indeed, CDVille.

Aaron shut down what he was doing, turned off the netbook and shut it, dropping it into the ergonomic bag slung over a shoulder and around his torso. He rose, paid, and slipped out the door, padding along after the presumed elven maiden. He kept a distance of a full block between them, moving back and forth and in and out of the crowd. He never looked directly at the woman he was following, but did watch her reflection in various objects, and kept track of her in his peripheral vision. The only sound he made as he moved was that of his pant legs brushing against each other, and even that was minimal. As a matter of course he wore nothing reflective or with bright colors.

After a moment he put on sunglasses and a black baseball cap, pulled low over his eyes. His hope was that she wouldn't notice him, and if she did, that she would not think his presence behind her to be significant.

6/10/2010 . Edited by Fleur-de-lis Evans, 2/26/2011 #5

Cathleen would just go straight to the teenager while Apollo and Jon would his escape. She had no weapons on her at all to show she wasn't a threat. She glanced up at the next addresses. 1257, 1259... 1261. Finally, she had arrived. She glanced at the people around her. An old woman with a large purse, a mom and daughter, a man with a hat on, a young boy, and a homeless man. She stepped up to the door of the sandwiched houses. She knocked on the flat, wood door. She knew there would be no answer. She looked up at the camera at the top left corner of the door and smiled.

"I won't harm you. I wanted to talk. Give you some options," she said soft enough for only the person on the other side of the door to hear.

6/10/2010 #6

Aaron kept walking, coming within a couple of feet of his subject. He glanced at her and then focused back on his feet, mumbling something under his breath as he moved on down the block. He turned to the left, crossed the street near the intersection, and walked another block away from the elf and the house at which she stopped. A right turn to keep going another block away, another right turn to bring him back to the street on which he'd left her. One more block straight on, and then another right turn to bring him back to the house where she had stopped, except that now he was behind the house.

There was a small yard beside other yards, behind the house. He opened the gate and walked into the yard and up to the back door. This was not a neighborhood where neighbors kept track of each other, so no one gave him a second glance as he put his hand on the doorknob. He paused with his ear to the door, and considered why he was taking this approach. He'd picked up another couple of people flanking her, probably team members. All but she were trying to keep a low profile, and she was trying to appear un-threatening at the front door. No initial response to her knock from inside, yet she spoke, as though there were someone in there to hear her. Someone who didn't want to see her, and almost certainly didn't want to see her team members.

It was a stretch, but his hunches usually proved correct, and his current actions probably wouldn't result in too much harm.

6/10/2010 #7

Drak walked down the street, silent and steady. The crowd almost seemed to part in front of him. So many people, so little time. It amused him how everyone wore watches, yet no one had the time to do anything. Someone shoved into Drak, and then staggered backwards. Drak glared at the man and kept waking.He slid over to the far side of the sidewalk, so close that his hand grazed against the rough red brick. He slipped into a small bookstore, vacant except for a small book keeper who had his back turned posting an ad for recovering alcoholics at a church. Drak slipped into the far corner, hiding behind Theology and Fiction. A vacant space in Theology let him stare out at the people in the streets. He pulled out a small phone, one of the disposable ones he aqquired from a Seven Eleven. He glanced at the clock. Two minutes. The drones in the street kept flickering by, eyes focused on the pavement.

Just following orders. Think for yourself. Just doing what we're told, sir. Don't call me sir. If God's willing. If Fate allows. There is no fate but what we make.

Drak looked back up at the clock. Time for a little mayhem. People in a cycle don't want to get out. Sometimes you have blow them out of the cycle. Just socks in a washing machine. So whoever ran the cycle got all the power. And no one complained. They didn't realize they weren't in control. They didn't realize they were being used. So the few people out of the cycle were the ones who had to destroy it. Destroy the circle. Destroy the same road, same rut, same routines they always had. Becuase the same choices meant the same mistakes. Throughout years a few people labored to stop the cycle. Dethrone the gods. Perhaps this was the age where it could happen. WHen we truelly were free. He pressed the call button.

A block down, a house exploded. A blazing hole erupted in the middle of it, and then it was gone. No framework, nothing. Drak had scoped the building out before, and there had been no one in it. No one had lived there in a year, but it was being rented out by the church down the block to house the books they planned on dispersing at the local schools.

Drak waked out of the building, tugging on his leather jacket to pull it down over his holster. Whipping out a pair of aviators, he walked away. His calm stroll was a vast image of contrast to the screaming crowd of drones that were now suddenly awake around him. Society needed to be changed. And if that change was a result of explosives and fear, so be it.

6/11/2010 . Edited by Fleur-de-lis Evans, 2/26/2011 #8

Apollo Westen watched the man enter the yard. Was this man here to help the boy? Either way he had to be stopped and Cathleen warned. He honestly didn't understand why she had been assigned to this and he and Jon had to tag along. At least he should have been the one to lead. He had more experience not only with age, but he had been with the Cult all his life. He didn't see what could be so much better about her.

Apollo kept watching, standing completely still. He didn't care if the man saw him or not. With a mere flick of his mind he sent out a warning to Cathleen and Jon.

A man is entering the back.

He could feel Jon tense and Cathleen took a step closer to the door.

Follow him in, Apollo, Cathleen instructed.

Apollo cut off the link and walk to the yard.

6/14/2010 #9

Aaron felt, more than heard the other man approaching. It had been luck as much as anything that he'd seen him and known him for a flanker to the elven maiden earlier. The man moved like an elf as well, which was probably why Aaron didn't hear him. Never the less, he began to turn toward the man as he entered the yard.

Just then, something exploded. Large explosion. Silence. Screams.

Skip the elves. Aaron sprinted out the side of the back yard, vaulting some shrubs on the way, and down the street toward the flames and smoke. People were running scared, but none that he passed seemed to be really badly hurt. Just scared.

Except one. He was walking calmly. No way that was right. Aaron stopped, right in the man's path, still several yards in front of him, and drew out his smart phone. He had the video camera function working before the phone was aimed at the man, and he held it steady there for several seconds until he was sure he had a good picture.

6/14/2010 #10

Cathleen heard the explosion, but whatever it was she didn't care all that much. She just hoped some humans had been harmed. For the teenager, her momentary distraction was all he needed. The door swung open and a hand grabbed her by the arm. She didn't resist, no need to, as he pulled her inside. He threw her to the ground and locked the door. She got to her feet, smirking.

The man left, Apollo sent to her.

Cathleen didn't reply as she watched the elf a few years younger than her turn, wild eye. He was probably nineteen if she guessed.

"Tell them to back off. I don't want them communicating with you," he hissed.

Her smirk turned into a smile. "You can sense he's talking to me?"

"Yes. Now tell them to leave."

"No wonder the Cult wants you."

Cathleen focused her mind on Apollo and Jon. Go. Back off to a block or two.

"I know why you are here, Cathleen," he growled. She raised an eyebrow. "Yes, I know your name. I know that you're the supposed rise of an Elven age. I think you're more like the fall."

She snorted. "Well, that's good. I don't believe either. You need to join the Cult. You're a pure elf for goodness sake! By joining you will be helping us rise again. Here you are hiding in this house from the humans. You shouldn't be hiding."

"I don't hide from humans. I hide from my own kind. What you are doing is so very wrong. Killing one human will make five-hundred more hate you. Hate is not what you want. I've heard of you, no doubt. Raised by humans, then picked up by the Cult. My life was no different than yours, except I saw the good in humans rather than you saw the bad."

"What was good to see in that family that raised me?" she yelled. "Beating me when I didn't do something was good? Oh right, humans are so awesome."

"And even know when you are among the Cult you can't see what they have done to you. They have blinded you, made you weak."

The elf stared at her with sad eyes. His eyes looked so old for being so young. He walked passed her and picked up a bag.

"You will see in time that I am right, Cathleen. Now I am leaving and you will let me go."

This elf had somehow gotten passed her defenses, completely stunning her to the spot. He sounded so sure of himself, but this had happened to her before. Other elves, even humans had tried to say the same to her. She wouldn't fall for it. The door closing behind her snapped Cathleen out of her thoughts. She caught the door before it closed all the way and caught sight of the elf in the swarming humans as they all ran away. Stupid humans. She cursed and took off after him, heading towards the rising smoke.

6/14/2010 #11

Drak glanced up at the man taking a video or a picture of him. Or perhaps he was just a tourist, interested in the explosion. But that was doubtful. Drak rushed forwards, fondling the pistol in his jacket, but was cut short by a police car swerving between the two men. Uninterested in the two, one cop jumped out of the car, pulling a gun and screaming at a pair of looters in the bookshop. Drak smiled. He looked up at the man, and bowed, walking backwards. Already his plan was working. Anarchy was erupting in the street. Screams and blood filled the air. Dirt and debris filled Drak's open mouth, giving him the pale lips of the dead. Already there was a corpse in the street. Drak nearly tripped over it, catching himself right before he fell. The other cop sat in the car, staring at the fire, looking shell shocked.

6/14/2010 #12

Aaron made a mental note, put away his phone, and continued on his way. The police were here. That was good, and they could do much, but their primary concern was, apparently, the looters. Aaron cared not for them. His priority was the wounded that resulted from the explosion, and the paramedics were taking longer to show up. Maybe he could help in the meantime.

A quick glance around allowed him to triage the victims. If there were any in the house or within a few feet of it when it went up, they were dead. Those outside the blast zone weren't even in shock, not the physiological kind. It was those in the zone in between that he was most concerned about. Many of them sat, lay, or hobbled about, unable to care for themselves and each other. Aaron had plenty of experience and went about stabilizing as many as he could that were not on the edge of death. There was a time when he might have used his health giving blood on their wounds, but no longer. Instead he found and tore strips of cloth to bind the wounds, and bits of broken wood made suitable splints for broken bones. He worked efficiently, doing just what was most needed for one trauma victim after another until the EMTs caught up and ushered him away, with their hurried thanks.

Aaron took a moment to get his breath back, and then meandered through the crowd, his eyes and other senses roving. He knew that man, though his dealings directly with him had been few. Kihn had the more direct dealings with him. But now his path had crossed Aaron's, and he'd proven himself to be more than the cops could handle. That made him Aaron's business, and he always completed his business, one way or another.

First he sent an e-mail to the police with the video attached, all from his cell phone. The text of the e-mail read: "Recommend tag this man as suspect in bombing of house. Observe his behavior. I am in pursuit."

In time they would track the message back to his phone, even though the e-mail account was created using false information. He would trash and replace the sim card and transmission/reception components at the earliest opportunity.

6/14/2010 #13

Cathleen chased the elf through the crowd, keeping at the same pace as him, never catching up. On the other side of the exploded house it was easier to run as then she wasn't having to go against the running humans and just went with the flow. She pushed and shoved when needed, trying to not loose sight. He seemed to be running towards a place rather than just running wildly. He suddenly cut across the street and ran into an alley. She paused only to let a police squad car pass before darting after him. No one else was in the alley and out in the open Cathleen was able to pick up her speed which probably meant he could too. She loved the feel of the chase and the catch would be even better. He kept running straight, crossing a street, and heading down another alley. Where was he heading? He turned left at the end of the alley, disappearing from her view. She skirted to the right side of the alley reading in case he was waiting just outside the mouth of the alley. She pivoted as she exited to face his way just in time to see him enter an office building. She took off and slowed when she reached the doors. It was weird, she couldn't even feel Apollo or Jonathan. She was alone now.

Cathleen entered the building. A large atrium met her eyes with large leaf plants growing lining each side. Two halls split off and two elevators were on the other side. One was going up. No one else was here, it was too silent. It had to be him. Her eyes scanned the signs. One near the elevators pointed to the staircase down the one hall. She ran off and slammed into the white, metal door. Concrete stairs with metal handrails ran up for four stories. Cathleen took two steps at a time and listened at each level. When she got the third she could no longer hear the elevator running. He had to be on the forth or fifth. Why was he trapping himself? She guessed for the fifth estimating how long the elevator would take not even bothering to check the forth floor. She slowed her pace as she reached the top. She soundlessly pushed open the metal door.

The teenager stood on the far end of the hall, arms crossed. His bag was no longer with him. "You finally caught up with me. Very good." He said it as if he was her teacher.

She walked towards him then halted as one of the offices came into view. Another elf stood, an M16 assault rifle trained at her chest.

"Hello, sweetheart," he said gruffly.

She managed to smile. "A trap, very good. But I'm just a soldier. By killing me will do nothing."

The teenager laughed. "How very wrong you are. We won't kill you, yet. I still don't understand why, but you mean something dearly to the Cult. If they know we captured you, they will send out their best. Well, I'm not going to tell you our plan. You're just the bait, you need to know nothing."

Cathleen sighed. "You're a fool. The Cult will crush you." She reached out with her mind searching for Apollo.

He laughed again. "Don't even try. I've blocked your mind. Your friend is not the only one who has a great mind."

She heard another elf moving up behind her. It was useless to try to resist. They might need her, but it didn't mean they didn't have to keep her alive if she tried anything. A black bag was thrown over her head, a musky smell filled it. A quick jab to the back of her legs forced her to her knees. She hoped so bad that Apollo or Jon had seen her and had followed. At the moment, she wasn't sure how to escape.

6/18/2010 #14

Drak walked along the street, discreetely looking in mirrors and display windows to see any followers. Looking back at the road, he notied a woman chasing a man into a building. Bored, Drak followed, jogging. As the girl dissipeared up the stairs, he waited on the ground floor. The elevator across the hall reached the fifth floor, then automatically returned to the bottom. Drak decided to be lazy, and took it up to the fith floor. Multiple voices erupted from the floors above him, startling Drak. He had thought the building to be abandoned. He slid out a pistol, and checked to make sure the rest of his weapons were accounted for under his jacket. The door slid open, and four people occupied the hall. The female was on her knees, with a rifle pointed towards her. Drak raised an eyebrow.

"Oooh, a party? I hope I'm not interupting or anything." He yelled at the group. On second thought, that wasn't a good idea.

6/19/2010 #15

The last part was only a half truth. He was in pursuit in the sense that detectives would be in pursuit of a suspect when they had very little evidence. A single visual, with video of about five seconds. He could construct a significant psychological profile of the suspect from that and hunt from there. But first he'd have to get what he could from the scene, which would be tough with firefighters tramping all over it, and after that, investigators. He'd have to crack their communications to find out what their forensics experts picked up using their high tech equipment. But much of it he could learn just by using his experienced eyes and other senses.

That, of course, required boots on the ground zero, which meant an infiltration, and a cheap suit jacket and badge would help with those. The jacket was easily acquired at the nearest department store, and the badge lifted off a distracted cop. A moment later he was within the police tape, looking like he knew what he was doing. Everyone was too busy to question him, so he left the badge on top of a vehicle's hood and moved on toward the epicenter.

No body parts or blood. The house had been deserted. Mental note for the psych profile. Thorough destruction of even the support beams in the center of the house, and the shrapnel distribution in the rubble that surrounded indicated that the bomb had been placed somewhere around . . . Never mind finding it. Where would he have put it? Right there, on the central weight bearing column. And there were always pieces of things. Most IEDs wouldn't vaporize anything, even one of this magnitude, and if they did they'd leave shadows on the structures around of the things that they vaporized.

The rubble at the center was only starting to cool down, so Aaron avoided touching it, instead sifting through it with his eyes, occasionally lifting something a little with the toe of his shoe to look under it, and then setting it back down again. He took pictures with his 5 mega-pixel camera phone of anything he thought might be helpful.

He would have liked to have stayed longer, but the firefighters were there looking for evidence, and he could tell a confrontation was about to ensue. He ducked his head, shouted to carry on, and thank you, and moved off opposite the direction from which he'd come. One shouted after him, but let him go.

Aaron had work to do. Next stop: some place to convert to a mini-crime lab and investigative office. He really should get a PI license, or journalistic credentials or something, so he wouldn't have to sneak and bluff his way around so much.

6/20/2010 . Edited by Fleur-de-lis Evans, 2/26/2011 #16

With the black bag over her head it was impossible to tell who the newcomer was. Clearly he wasn't one of the elves and she didn't recognize the voice. It was probably some stupid human who had heard movement upstairs.

"I suggest you leave right away. You don't want to get in our way," yelled the teenager back to the newcomer.

Cathleen had no idea if the gun was still aimed at her, but this new distraction should help. She quickly spun around on one knee while she extended the other to hopefully knock the elf behind her to the ground. As she spun, she yanked off the bag. Her leg connected with his legs, but he too was quick. He jumped avoiding the fall, but he pulled the rifle up against his chest. Using the momentum she had, she rolled into the room to her right. She got to her feet and pressed her back to the wall next to the door.

6/22/2010 . Edited by Fleur-de-lis Evans, 2/26/2011 #17
Fleur-de-lis Evans

New Character


Age: unknown

Race: Shifter

Appearance: her defining features include a scar across her left eye and horrible scars from chemical burns down the left side of her face. These scars do not go away when she shifts, but she can conceal the scar to make her appearance less frightening. When uncovered there are tattoos all around her body:

Right Arm: fully detailed snakes coil, one is a Viper, it's mouth open by her wrist, and the other is a Diamonback it's mouth open by her shoulder, these tattoos cover a scar she received from a lashing given by her maternal uncle, the head of the Diamond Back gang.

Back: there are more than ten images on her back some of which are: swallow tail butterfly, sparrow in flight, an hourglass, an albatross with the words Above All around it, and across her neck, a banner with the word Vindicio (to avenge)

She has butt length hair, usually a shade of red or brown, kept in a coiled braid. There is usually a section of hair obscuring the left side of her face and she has a collection of hats she wears. She is a mutli-level black belt in at least six martial arts. She's lived on the streets for most of her life, and although new to this particular city, she adapts quickly to street fighting. She wears a long coat over her clothing, which all consists of light-weight yet bullet proof clothing. Because of her race she is hard to identify, but another feature she cannot change are her eyes, one is startlingly blue while the other is a molten silver. Although she can fight weaponless, she carries an assortment of daggers, pistols, and poisons on her person. Also, through extensive suffering she is immune to almost all snake venom, and seems to have a special gift with the creatures that produce it. She is currently on a search for the "secrets' of her past and is looking for work with a gang our group. She is so good at her shifting that most humans and other races can only tell what she is by taking a blood sample. She doesn't know her age but appears in most forms as beetween 24 to 35.


Pyx stood in the mouth of an ally. She wondered briefly if any of the humans around her had noticed the elf-maiden, the man clearly walking calmly through their panicked ranks, or the man who had lifted the badge off the police officer. A slow smile crossed her face. Perhaps she would be in connection with one of these strangers soon, who knew. The fake police officer had wondered of in the direction of the run down flat building she was currently squatting in. Well, not run down. There were certainly people living in these units, but by the looks of it they had been gone for a while. This city, which had seemed to draw her to itself, was proving to riddled with all sorts of people.

The maiden must be part of some cult. She had the elf features, and she had heard rumors in several establishments of a group claiming to be the new hope for the rise of the elves. Personally, she didn't have anything against anyone. She just though it funny that no one quite understood the level of discrimination and crime her people had faced. Because discrimination against shifters was even among the race itself. She shook herself from her thoughts, quickly pulling her hat down over her face. The Stetson had a feather in its band, and it looked ridiculous, but she would not remove it. It was a reminder of the friend she'd lost to the humans.

Moving quickly, from shadow to shadow, she quickly traveled to the flat she had begun to use sparingly. She had been able to probe the fake officer's mind a little and smiled. Perhaps he would find the flat she occupied helpful, as it was owned by not only a tech but also a forensic scientist.

6/22/2010 . Edited 2/26/2011 #18

"I don't much like suggestions, boy" Drak fired the pistol at one of the elves, and the head knocked back, painting the wall behind it a pretty shade of crimson. The revolver kicked around, the next chamber coming into place. He fired again, hitting the same elf. "I have 4 more shots. I can kill you all in one shot. Or I can let you bleed out. Slowly. Painfully.Or, the nice way, I let you go. Except you need to tell me what's going on here." He smiled.

"I don't like that option as much, to be honest. I'd like to kill each one of you. Much more fun. So I'll give you twenty seconds, then I kill. Oh, and please, try and stop me. I enjoy moving targets. Shooting bunnies is more fun then shooting turtles." Drak luaghed, and pulled open his jacket slightly. Gun metal and greandes shined in the artificial light. "I have all day. You don't."

6/22/2010 #19

Aaron had been around too long, used telepathy and other psychic powers too extensively, not to notice the shifter's intrusion. Had to be a shifter. Everyone left behind a subtle signature when they read you, and this was a shifter's signature. He dealt with it the same way he usually did; He gave her what she wanted and moved on.

That's when he heard the gun shots. They came from within that building there. It was well within range for either the bomber and/or the elves. Were the incidents related? Possibility there. Could he intervene and save lives? Maybe, but this wasn't like the last incident if shots were already being fired. He no longer had the kind of speed or resilience that would be required, and he lacked the desire to run in and shoot a place up. Maybe he'd live, but who would die? And would the victims deserve that death? And wouldn't the entire prospect be counter to his entire reason for living? No, running into the gun fight wouldn't do, even if he were appropriately equipped.

What Aaron could do, on the other hand, was gather information. He wondered briefly if the shifter could be recruited, and let the thought out from behind his carefully constructed mental shields. Diversions, to be more precise. Like having to navigate a shrubbery maze before entering an estate. With the option of getting found out and captured with every step. He didn't need an answer now, so once the thought was out his inner counsil remained securely behind the hedges.

He continued beyond the building where he was thinking about housing his crime lab and into a taller building beyond it. Climbed the stairs at a jog, and emerged on the roof. From there it was a leap across a two lane road and down a story and a half to the roof of the building in which the gun was fired. He took a running start and made the leap. It was a stretch, but he made it, expertly rolling back into a jog out of the fall. He hopped up onto the top of the shack housing the stairs between the roof and the top story of the building and squatted there, waiting, listening, his eyes roving about.

6/22/2010 #20

"You have only four bullets left, but there are five of us as you'll have to kill the girl or else she'll kill you," the teenager replied calmly.

Cathleen hadn't even seen this newcomer, but he sounded confident and didn't doubt he wouldn't shoot. She needed an escape. She looked to the window. Floor to ceiling glass she could knock out with a chair or push the desk through and then possibly climb to the roof. She waited though wanting to hear what would happen.

6/23/2010 #21

Drak smiled. "Four bullets. Five people. And you doubt I could kill two of you with one bullet? And thats only the four in my one pistol." Drak's grin look psycotic now, as he opened his jacket. "This, my dear little boy, is a throwing knife. And this here is an U**. Lot of bullets, coming very fast, in a short amount of time. Over here is a butchers knife. Not too practical, you might say, but you'd have trouble repeating yourself once I was done with it. And, yes, I might kill the girl."

6/23/2010 #22

They were still talking! Aaron kicked in the door from the roof and took the stairs down, jumping from the fourth above each landing, till he reached the hallway where everything was going down.

He opened the door and stepped boldly into the hallway.

"I'm disappointed y'all didn't invite me to the party! So what have y'all done so far, other than Drak killing that elf? Yes, I know who you are. Guys, he really will kill you if you don't give him a good reason not to. But then, Drak, you'll have to deal with me. Of course, if the rest of y'all kill him or the girl, you'll have to deal with me. Who am I? Why don't I introduce myself over tea?"

As he spoke he walked between Drak and the elves, knowing there was a very real chance Drak would shoot him, but praying he wouldn't.

6/23/2010 #23

Another person and he wasn't even one of her own! This was turning weird, but it gave her another distraction. Cathleen just kept to her to the wall and kept listening.

"So, you're name's Drak," said the teenager. "My name is Samuel. Sam for short if you like. Exactly why do we want to kill us? What have we done to you?"

6/23/2010 #24

Aaron smirked and raised an eyebrow, waiting for Drak's response.

6/23/2010 . Edited by Fleur-de-lis Evans, 2/27/2011 #25

Drak rolled his eyes. "Christ, another little vigilante. You really think any of you scare me? The man's right. I'll kill you all. I'm quite cruel according to your society's standards. So how about you push the girl over here, and everyone else back against the wall. If anyone so much as twitches near a trigger, I kill you all. And since the little vigilante here knows so much about me, he'd know that even with a round in my chest, I'll still enjoy butchering y'all." He walked towards the group, revolver staying still, while his other hand twitched uncontrollably. Modern medicine couldn't even fix a slight tremor.

"The reason that I want to kill you is becuase I have a weird feeling your little gang isn't quite normal. Am I correct?"

6/23/2010 #26

Who the hell did this guy think he was? Cathleen thought. Why did he want her? She didn't want his saving.

Samuel laughed. "Possibly not normal." He gave a heavy sigh. "Take the girl, if you want. We don't want trouble."

6/23/2010 #27

"Now Drak," Aaron said, "Your cruelty isn't in question. Your reason is. Is your hatred or anger or whatever worth dying for? Because your multitude of bullets won't save your life if you get into a fight against all these people, each of whom is probably faster, stronger and tougher than you."

What Aaron couldn't quite wrap his mind around was why these elves were just standing there, even after he'd distracted Drak -- however little -- instead of running off somewhere. What was their objective? What was keeping them here?

6/23/2010 #28

"Throw her over then." Drak motioned with his free hand. Getting out of the city is easier as a couple.Cops here were totalarian pigs. Too powerful, and underfunded. They could take wallets from corpses, and no one would look twice. Get in the way, and a bullet would be your warning. But they didn't bother couples, or the rich. The poors, the homosexuals, the cripples, the Satanists were their targets. Anyone had a problem, and they would be told that the police were "Just following orders".

"Faster then me, maybe. Faster then my aim, no. If they're what they think they are, I've killed hundreds of them. I had to wipe out a whole city when they got too powerful,once. Plus they threatened my family." He had now family now.

6/23/2010 . Edited 6/23/2010 #29

"Then come get her. Clearly she's equally as important to whatever plan you hold as she is to us," Samuel said.

Cathleen began to feel nervous. Something bigger was about to happen. She could feel it.

6/23/2010 #30
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