Distarius_WhiteRobes

Note -- Yes, this is a private RP and anyone interested is certainly welcome to e-mail me.

Distarius He's chasing me. As I run through the thicket, he's chasing me. His face, it seems to confront me no matter which way I turn. I can't look him in the eye, it brings with it such a sense of fear and another underlying feeling I can't quite articulate. I pick up my pace, yelling out at every chance I get to try and chase him away. It makes no difference. I'm running faster than I ever thought I was capable of, yet still he chases me. There's a clearing in the thicket, and he presents me with the body of Kokoryuu, grinning sinfully. I turn and try to go back the way I came, yet I'm led into another clearing which couldn't have been there before. He presents me with the bodies of Colin Warren and other dead soldiers. I turn and try to get away once more, and a third clearing gives him the opportunity to show me the murdered Jareena Faye. He seems to laugh the most at this one. Genuinely screaming now, I run back into the thicket. The trees morph into his massive claws, and he grabs me. I try to escape, but I can't. He grabs me and pulls me up to his sharp, twisted, demonic teeth soaked in blood. He laughs once more and opens his mouth wide. And then I woke up. Was that the first time I had that dream? I don't know. It doesn't seem like it; there was a strong sense of Deja Vu when I woke up, and then it was gone. Where was I? Oh yeah, the cave. Had my leg stopped hurting? "Ack!" I let out as a sharp twist of pain shot up my calf. At least it wasn't bleeding anymore. I can thank one of the fires at the castle for that, I remember. After another half-hour battle with gravity I had managed to get myself back up. My leaves were drying out and I figured I'd attempt to gather more to fashion something a bit more sturdy than this psuedo-kilt I had established. Maybe a vest, I thought to myself as... well there's a pair right there, at the mouth of the cave. Are they mine? No, they can't be. Can I take them? Who's going to stop me? The only thing I can imagine more comical than seeing an amputee try to stand is seeing him try to dress himself. After I got the shirt and pants on I looked down at the vest and boots, swore at them, and exited the cave with my crutch under my arm. I was very soon confronted by a woman. After I explained to her that my clothes had been ripped off during the run through all of the thicket and thorn bushes, explaining all of the scratches I had aquired as well, she gestured to the bushes and presented me with a large black horse, calling him Nero. Strange that she would do this, as I had only met her minutes ago, but she explained that she didn't need him. Furthermore she promised that there was food and money in his saddlebags. I protested, but I think she knew that inside I really wished I could take that horse. She disappeared before I could talk her out of it. The ride into the next town was relatively straightforward after we got onto the trail, save that with every stride my leg ached. The town's sign read "New Haven", quite a welcoming name, so I wasted no time in riding all of the way in. Traffic was light in and out of this place, and they were quite surprised to see someone in my condition roll into town. You see, from the looks of this place they were mostly farmers, and had no sense of war. I landed in front of the town hall, nothing more than a cabin. Along the way I had seen at least a dozen houses, and I was sure there were more past eyesight if this was truly a farming town. There was a tavern, a healer's den which I passed, a meat shop, and finally this town hall. I dismounted the horse and tied him out front, grabbing for my crutch. Inside it was very nearly empty, save one woman slightly older than I. She was a dark haired girl, on the heavier side of thin but by no standards big. "My Lords!" She exclaimed as she hopped out from behind her slab, scattered with papers. "What happened to you?!" "Uhm... accident," was all I could muster. She quickly got behind me, leading me back out the door. "We've got to get you to the healer, Wesley. He handles all our problems," she said. "What be your name?" "Di...Lance," I covered. "Kyle DeLance." I'm not quite sure why I felt I needed to hide my identity; it just seemed... safe. "Well I be Sara, stranger. Have you been riding with that wound long?" She asked, turning back to my horse as she lead me down the dirt path. "A while," I said, and it was the most I could say as I didn't remember anything more. As we came to the healer's cabin, the tavern across the way suddenly errupted in chaos as its doors swung open. Two men, obviously officials as one's dress was identical to the other's, were leading a drunkard out of the tavern. He was protesting with all of his strength, but two men are stronger than any one man, and soon they had him out on to the street, past us, and into the woods. "No! No!" he cried as I watched in wonderment. Sara simply put her head down, avoiding eye contact with him. "Where are they taking him?" I asked. "Is there another building back there? To hold him?" Sara avoided the question for a moment before looking back up to me. "We don't talk about such things," she said. "Now come, let's get you looked at."

More than a year ago an RP entitled “Shifting Terrors” was created by Kokoryuu and Distarius, and was quickly accompanied by Jareena Faye. However, due to several internal affairs within the group, of which I will not go into now, the RP died when it was approaching its ending. Distarius has taken it upon himself to finish what was begun… and probably Jareena, too. I don’t know about Ryuu. My way of ending things is way better than the complicated story they had planned, anyway. So… yeah… I think it’s supposed to start now. Distarius Wake up. Wake up, your foot hurts. Wake up, your foot hurts, your head hurts. Wake up. I woke up with a sudden jolt of my neck. I looked down; down to where my mind was telling me. As I did, my foot stopped hurting. I’d call it miraculous, that is to say if I had a foot at all. It had been severed just above the ankle, wrapped in a crude bandage torn from my own robes. Now my leg? “Augh” I let out as I reached down past my knee, grabbing my calf. My leg hurt, a lot, and that’s probably what had incapacitated me. I remember coming to this cave in a dazed state, thinking I might take a rest after such a long hike. How long had I been running before I stopped here? Hours? A day? More? Did I eat? Did I drink? Are they still chasing me? Is he still chasing me? All of these questions I had, none of which I could answer. And then like an arrow it struck me. The memories of my last struggle, the losses I had seen, all rushed forward in my mind, toward my eyes. I yelled out as they hit me, hard as they did. Kokoryuu shifted into a griffin, her mid-sized fighting form of choice. The eight legged monster that readied itself for battle in front of her hissed, and she growled back. The two were in a lock of claws and teeth before I could look back, and I had no clue who was winning. My attention went back to the Syrakk creature in front of me. I was unarmed now, my staff lost in the last skirmish. It was just as well, I assumed, since I had forgotten how to use magic long ago. Still… the blade incased within the handle would’ve proved useful now. I shouted a swear and pushed with all my might against the screeching Syrakk. It buckled now, its exoskeleton carrying little traction against the hard stone of this lair. “This lair?” I asked myself. The reason of the fighting had left me at this point, I suppose. It didn’t really matter anymore, so why worry about it? I managed to get the Syrakk on to its back somehow, yet had unfortunately tumbled with it. Funny how it was one of the few protecting this place, I thought to myself as I scrounged on the ground for anything to kill this creature. I finally found my resources in the body of its partner, a Syrakk now suffering from a slight case of death. I reached in the dark over its body. My hand landed on its thorax limb, a sharp spike of a hand, and I pulled. I pulled until sinew and muscle had snapped, and plunged it with another scream into the living Syrakk’s chest. It died instantaneously. I fell backward now, looking up at the ceiling lit only by a glowing blue crystal. I’ll be damned if I can tell you what half of this stuff was for; Jareena and Ryuu seemed to grasp the situation much better than I did, going off in endless rants about the hierarchy of the demons descending upon us. I never paid them much attention. My head turned in a sudden curiosity of Ryuu’s status. I can’t very well describe what I saw. The death of a shape-shifter is brutal. It looked as if she had tried to take the shape of about ten different things in an effort to stay alive, ranging from her natural dragon form, to her human form, all the way to her fox form. The in-betweens were gruesome, not to mention her fatal wound which to me seemed unnecessary. I fear I can not go into this. Suffice is to say her spine was no longer in place, and her air supply had been cut off. You fill in the gaps. Fear, love, anger, instinct, illness… all of these things rushed into my soul at the sight of her. Fear; where was her opponent whom I now hated more than anything else, ever. Instinct; the instinct to flee, hampered by a sickness of which I could not comprehend. Love; underneath it all was the truth I had failed to realize until this moment, this moment which now left me incapacitated. I threw up. So how did I get back to the castle? Were we fighting at a castle? Was it a church? How had they lost so badly by the time we got there? How did Jareena get there? No, that I remember; we had told her to run back before going deeper into that lair. So how did I get back to the castle? Did I fight that eight legged creature? Did I kill it? I did. I did kill it, I remember. I slaughtered it with a hatred I had blocked out until now. I’d kill it again if it were here. So how did I get back to the castle? The castle was almost rubble by the time I saw it. The Syrakk had decimated what was once the cornerstone of culture among the southeast land. A few pockets of soldiers remained, including Colin Ap Warren and his tightly knit bunch of men. Jareena was there, too. They looked happy to see each other. Just as well, I was too frustrated by the death of one love to start thinking about another. Why is that the thing I remember most clearly? They smiled at each other. Despite all of the death happening around them, they smiled. Why do I remember that? It holds no significance. The soldiers fought bravely. I remember that man. The “demon”, they were calling him. He suddenly landed before us off of what used to be the second floor library. What was his name? It started with an E, I think. Warren was dead in an instant. I’ll miss the dullard. He was tossed far out of the castle by the demon, and if that’s not enough he was on fire. Jareena screamed for him. She, I, and the rest of the soldiers were huddled together against him. I know Jareena died. I can’t remember how. I can’t remember anything after that. I would love to be able to say some of the other soldiers survived, or even one, but I rest unsure and doubtful that was the case. So what happened next? I ran as fast as I could, one leg complete with a foot. I imagine the blood trail alone would’ve been enough to track me down, but I didn’t care. I ran until I heard nothing but my own breath. I ran until the sun was up and down again. I ran until that town was far away from me. I ran until that plague was in my past. I ran until I had all but forgotten the friends I had witnessed dying. It’d be nice if I could still say I didn’t remember their deaths. You know? My fire is still going. I think I’ll go back to sleep. Sleep is good. The Next Morning Elinthar. His name was Elinthar. He wasn’t human there, either. When we fought him he had morphed into something much more devious, much more his true nature. I also remember that the priest had attempted to save us. I can only pray it was enough to save him. My leg still hurt, but I managed to get up after a half-hour of struggling against the back wall of the cave. Apparently I had already crafted myself a crude crutch out of a tree limb during my run, so I grabbed it and started toward the mouth of the cave, leaving the fire burning. As I emerged the sun hit my skin. All of my skin… I was naked. That was an interesting discovery, and for a moment I was glad I hadn’t died in my sleep in the disrespectful cult of the nude. Save grabbing for a few large leaves off of the lower limbs of trees, there wasn’t much I could do. I had never operated with only a single foot before. Imagine that. I spent the next couple of hours trying to figure out where I was. No matter which direction I faced I could find no single scene which looked familiar, and my leg was killing me, so I headed back for my cave. Tomorrow I would start looking for food and water, I told myself. Maybe in a few days I’ll look for a civilized town. All of those plans, however, were destroyed when a woman with an easy decade over me approached the cave. I would later come to find this woman preferred the name of (and far be it for me to judge) Mynx.

So I guess I'm Jacko... that's pretty cool I suppose, and more than a little true. I imagine I will eventually have to drag her out of her isolation. Really, good, interpretation. That seems like an interesting subject to study.

Congratulations, Ryuu---haha, for a very short time you can say you're two years older than Nikki. Enjoy your weekend in New Jersey; it sounded really fun when you told me about it.

OoC: J'F, if you don't want to play anymore, just let me know. If you do---get your head in the game! We've got some characters to move around here! Terrance Black: "Raanan Anderson---Raanan Anderson," I thought to myself as I moved through the tight corridors that made up the living quarters in the base. "I can remember that." I collided with three individual people during my trip to my room; I apologized to them all despite how useless it really is. It's impossible to move in here without bumping into somebody...that's just the way the place was built, I suppose. I guess we throw the term "living quarters" around a little too freely. Take into account that this is still an abandoned warehouse. No one really lives here. However, when it gets too late or one gets too tired to ride back to their own home, they always have a place to rest between hunting shifts here in the warehouse. Most of the time I just use mine as a locker; storing the stuff I don't need. When I got to 13-A *my room* I spoke aloud the pass code; something I'm not going to tell you. I don't know what you'd do with it. The door opened and I stepped in, almost immediately walking into the bed which was against the farthest wall of the room...maybe 8 feet back. My jacket was laid out nicely, just as I had left it. My gloves were on the counter on the right hand side of the room, next to the food replicator. My weapons...they were under my pillow where I always keep them. I picked my items up off the bed and placed them on the floor. I didn't need them getting in the way of what I had planned Undressing into my bare essentials, I climbed in the covers and rested my head on the pillow. It would be another five hours before Anderson showed up---so why not use those hours to their full potential? I gave the computer the command to shut off the lights, and it did what it was told. As they dimmed, my eyes closed in an almost in unison with them. I sighed heavily, and drifted off---but not before my mind started to wander. I'll tell you...love is something stupid. It pokes its nasty head into your thoughts where it doesn't belong. It makes you remember those you'd rather forget---it gives you pain; the kind you can't get rid of. In my case; it makes me think of her. Oh, how happy I was with her---if only---*sleep* She went over the edge. I don't know how it happened. The waves were rough...the boat was in bad shape anyway...someone was bound to mess up. She was tossed right out. I climbed to the edge to help her back up; knowing exactly what waited for her in the water. She disappeared under the water for a few seconds, but came back up kicking strong---several peices of armor were missing. I think she got rid of them to swim better. I pleaded for her to swim back to the edge of the boat. I begged her even. I needed her to survive---so that I could live. Reaching forward, I too almost lost my hold on the small vessel. I felt myself breaking down inside as she struggled several feet from the boat, kicking through the white caps, trying to reach safety once more. I called her name again---it was silent against the force of the water, the thunder in the sky, and the rain pelting all around. Lighting struck about a mile away, and I jumped backward when the thunder sounded. She made it back. I bent down and grabbed her hand, and for a brief moment felt that everything was going to be okay. I started to pull her up. I started to bring her back---and I was so glad I was holding her; glad that she was in my arms. She was taken from me. The giant claw I had seen so many times before burst out of the water in an explosion of white and gripped the object of my affection's back, tearing into the skin where armor had been a few minutes prior. She screamed, and I yelled with her. I kept holding on...the monster proved too strong. She was pulled down, down into the water. I kept my hold on her hand for as long as I could. The bubbles from her last breath...the blood from her wounds; these things rose to the surface in a mixture which sent my soul into my own personal Hell. The beast's grip was too strong...too powerful! The beast lost its grip, I thought. She became much easier and lighter to pull. I pulled her up out of the water by the hand I had held onto during the struggle---but only her hand. I fell backward at the sudden ease of it, and shrieked at the site of it. Before I had hit the bottom of the boat in my tumble, I let go of the limb and watched it fly over head, blood dripping on my robes and face. It splashed into the other side of the water. My eyes shot open in a start where I rested in the bed, but I didn't make a noise or a movement. Instead I thought only of what had happened after that; what had happened to me after she died. I remembered that I had been lying in the boat... I didn't move after that. I had fallen to the floor of the boat; and that is where I remained. I broke down---tears beginning to roll down my face. Too hurt to move, I sifted in that water for three days before I was picked up by a bigger ship. It was another three months before I was mobile. My sadness turned to hate. My fear into aggression. I hunted that female monster of a dragon down; and when I caught up to her I was fueled by those things so strongly that I killed it almost as quickly as it killed---as it had killed Jareena. I was alone...and that's how it stayed for hundreds of years.

What's all this Jibbuh-Jabbuh about, Foo?! Don't you know you can never leave the pen board? You can try---and you can actually succeed for a period of time---but you'll be back. They always come back. Remember Tod Jenkins? No, you don't! That's because he uses a net-handle on this site---but he talked about leaving, and he came back. You see? They never leave. You can't leave. And if you do---well, I'll just have to bug you on MSN or something. S'been a while anyway.

As far as being able to write goes, I can't really do more than state what's already been said *why did this board have to get all of the geniuses?* But it seems to me that real writing, the best writing that is, comes from having a good time when you're doing it. You can't produce a great product if your heart isn't in it. I think one of the biggest factors in being able to enjoy a project is a sense of---an enraged imagination. When a mind just craves excitement and there's nothing around to feed it, the person just starts creating their own fun and their own situations in their head. The ones that have been properly taught *grammar wise*, and the ones that are dorky enough *not a bad thing, I am* to sit in front of a word processor or lay down with a notebook and get those ideas flowing and into something that gets other people excited---they're the ones that make the best stuff. The ones that are forced to *school papers, etc. etc.* are the ones that suffer. And I do think that writers can easily learn from one another. I know that I do my best work when I'm working with another person. The whole process of "wouldn't it be cooler if" and "wouldn't it be EVEN cooler if" goes much faster and ideas just pop. You learn from those experiences and you take them with you---they lean you toward your next project, which in all likeliness will far surpass the previous independant work. I think co-writing something with somebody is one of the greatest and most pounding ways to help *don't want to use the word teach* a potential writer with their game. As for what attracted me to writing *as if I haven't talked enough already*, I think it was my desire to make films. I have a very clear vision of what I want to see---unfortunately the means to capture it on film aren't always there *got no green? You ain't on no screen* so writing is the next best thing. The first thing I ever wrote simply because I wanted to was a fanfic of Star Wars: Jedi Knight *the original PC game back in '97* It was roughly 20 pages from start to finish, and in all caps. Without a doubt the worst thing I've ever written---and that was only 3 years ago. And now---well, all of my readers give me rave reviews *all two or three of them * So I guess the last point I should make is that---some people are made to write; some people aren't. They're the cards He deals out to you, and the ones you must play...He wouldn't deal you a bad hand, would He?

The weapon---it's handheld for the most part, almost the size of a pistol, maybe a little bit bigger. Jet black except for the tip which is encased in a cylindrical mirror. Collecting light from the mirror and pushing it back into the barrel where it is concentrated, the weapon can project a wide focused ray of pure UV radiation or a condensed beam, whichever the situation may call for. Not only will the focused beam cause severe allergic reactions from the linchens, killing them dead in a matter of seconds, but in the daylight the wide focused ray will cause Linchens in human form to react in a less agressive tone. It is likey they'll shriek or recoil from it. Normal humans will not be harmed, or even irritated. The basic benefit is that we can hunt them in the day, when they can't mutate and become twice as dangerous. Don't under estimate this weapon, it is likely to become the biggest advantage we gain this year. Suck it up, "Sax". We may spend every night slaughtering them---but they still spend every night devouring our kind. Don't let it be you, and don't let it be anyone you care about. (End) Voice transmission: Subject: Re: I Heard about a new weapon we're getting? To: Pvt. Robert "Saxophone" Hughes From: Lt. John Graves Dated: February 12th, 2079

Terrance Black: It felt good to finally remove the helmet. After more than a few hours, I welcomed the refreshment of oxygen into my lungs and exhaled deeply. In my youth *or at least that's what I refer to it as* my hair would have grown sweaty and would have clumped together, falling into my eyes. Fortunatey as times change, so do hairstyles. As I made my way through the garage, seperating myself from the other two in my hunting unit *It might make more sense if I tell you that Jacob and Tyra have a bit of a 'thing' going on*, I looked around for any familiar faces. They were there, and they were many. I traded them nods when ever possible, and smiles were given to those I could tolerate. "Lieutenant," a British-accented man called out to me. I realized it was Hopkins no sooner than he continued talking. "I heard your team took out an entire pack tonight. Good job, no one else even thought to check the castle." "That's why everyone else is still sitting around in the garage," I said as politely as possible, and continued on my way. I should probably set one thing straight, though. It's not that I don't like people, or even conversation. But after hearing so many people tell virtually the same stories and make the exact same small talk they did back in my youth it just---starts to get boring. I had not walked more than three feet when I heard the two motorcycles take off. I turned, thinking maybe Tyra and Jacob had left again, but to my surprise *or unfazedness, really* it was another team. I turned back to Hopkins, who would undoubtedly know their mission as all he ever did was sit in the garage reading newspapers and checking up with other team members. "Where are they going?" I asked. "Oh, them?" Hopkins asked, looking back at the duo riding away from the garage. Their brake lights lit as they reached the edge of the road. "Yes, them. It's going to be sun-up in less than a few hours." "Well, nearest I can figure---they've found two or three Linchen in the Spaziergang district..." OPERATIONS; A few moments later: I paced my way into the mission center as prideful as I could. I was now missing my trenchcoat and gloves, which I had left in my quarters on the way here. My higher up, a man by the name of Christopher was huddled over one of the computerized maps. To the left side of the room sat the comm officers, sending messages to those teams already in the field. "What's in the Spaz district?" I asked, instantly gaining Chris's attention. He stood up slowly and turned to me. "Ahh, Terrance. Just the man I wanted to see. We're getting a new---" He started as he moved toward the table in the center of the room. "What's in the Spaz district?" I asked again. "I've hear about...Linchens getting loose?" Christopher hesitated, then sighed. "A couple of hours ago two of our scouts both witnessed Linchen activity in the area. Now it could very possibly just be a couple of strays, which is why we've only sent two hunters to check it out...but..." "But what?" I asked. "But there have been other trackings of them in that area over the last few weeks. Mostly droppings, a few carcasses." I grimmaced and lowered my head. "Please Terrance," Christopher offered, "Sit down." I did as he asked, and sat opposite of the chair he took for himself. I still couldn't make eye contact with him, not after that news. "Look, it's no one's fault," he said. "It's just...when they move through the sewers like that it's almost impossible to contain them." "We're losing this battle," I said to him, but really just talking to myself. "No," Christopher said. "No, we're winning. We've seen bad before and we always get out of it. I heard your team took out an entire pack tonight, I wouldn't call that losing." "Yeah," I said, confirming the success of the mission. "Maybe..." "But in any case, at least you get to have some fun now. Your request for a new hunting team has been granted, on one stipulation." "Really?" I asked, eagerly. "Well what is it?" "Our research department has developed a new weapon for combating the Linchen, it's supposed to be some sort of concentrated UV laser or something. It's supposed to fry the suckers in less than a second or two, and it's extremely accurate." "Yeah, that doesn't sound so bad...what's the catch?" "Well, they don't want to throw the weapon at us right away. They want one of their own, a researcher; developer, to come in and assist you. You're going to hunt with her for a little while, and test the weapon in the field. You wanted a change of assignment, and now you've got it." "Oh," I said, at this point just ready to try out the equipment. The fact that I could get away from Tyra and Jacob for a little while was just all the better. "Well who is it?"

Notice: Before joining this RP please check with either myself or Jareena Faye. You can find us under the Yahoo Messenger tags of Distephano70 and Jesusfreak58237, respectively. It's nothing personal, just to keep the direction clear. That being said, enjoy the show. The city of Das Verlorene, 2079, Castle Grünfeld, Wine Cellar, The linchen to my left tore the shotgun from my hand. I would have been able to prevent it, but I was busy with the other on my right. I didn't really react emotionally other than fueling my ever strong hate for the beasts. I dealt a kick to the one on my left, knocking it to the dank and dreary stone wall, the mold barely showing in the one free light bulb hanging from the ceiling, but ten times as easily smelt. With my left side free, I reached down to my belt and retrieved a silver crafted stake, which I plunged into the chest of the linchen on my right. It shreaked and threw its head up in pain before its blood began to boil from within. I didn't bother watching the gory death I had already seen ten times, but pulled out the stake and turned my attention to the other linchen. I didn't really get a chance to deal with this one. One of my hunting partners, Jacob, had already turned his uzi on it, and pumped it with more silver than was probably necessary. Either way the Linchen was all but torn apart. Through my black motorcycle helmet I couldn't see far on either side peripherally, so I hadn't been able to realize there were three more linchens coming up through the man hole in the center of the cellar. The third in our party, Tyra, made notice of it and called my name. I turned and caught my shotgun by the barrel just as quickly as she tossed it. I aimed it down at the manhole and fired it into the head of the first linchen climbing up. I wasn't finished. I walked closer to the manhole, pumping the gun and firing off another load into the next linchen which popped it's head up. It's head melted away as its limbs flopped over the edge of the cover. Once more I pumped it, at this point standing right over the manhole. My two hunting partners joined me around the circle, all looking down. The next linchen appeared at the bottom of the sewer. The mountain of corpses in the manhole continued to rise for the next hour, at that same constant pace. Our black trench coats and helmets were covered with more blood than you will probably ever see in your entire life. But perhaps I should back up and tell you a little bit about the situation before you plunge head first into the story I'm about to pass on. First off, you should probably know where we are. We're sitting in the year 2079, in the city of Das Verlorene. As for the name, I'll let you figure out what that one means. Its location is somewhere around what you would call Ontario. Such provinces and states are non-existant to us anymore---but I remember. Which I guess brings us to me. My name, or at least my name in this time and place is Terrance Black. I say "in this time and place" because of all the different names I've had. Back in the first place I lived, they called me Distarius...I guess if I had to pick a real name it'd be Distarius, but I've seen so many things through such a long time it doesn't really hold much meaning for me anymore; that was an incredibly long time ago, yet by your terms I've only aged roughly three years since then. Distarius is dead to me, as are all the people he knew. The method by which I travel from place to place; the reason I've lived as long as I have; the medium through which I am not limited to your borders of space and time---is something I don't want to tell you just yet, I aquired it back when dragons still roamed the earth, if you want something like a date. For now, at least, let's leave it at the fact that I'm Terrance Black, and that I live in Das Verlorene. You're probably wondering what the Linchens are as well, aren't you? Well the closest thing I know you could compare them to are werewolves. I wouldn't call them werewolves because werewolves, by all rules and regulations, can only come out on full moons. These creatures come out nightly. I guess that's really all that seperates them from werewolves. We hunt them at night because in the day they would only show as humans, and that presents obvious complications. We, too, appear normal in the day, but can easily be identified by our trade mark trench coats and black clothing we wear at night as we ride around the city, wiping the linchens out with whatever silver-fueled weapons we can carry. Silver, as you may of guessed, causes their blood to seperate. In effect, it boils their insides until they pop. It's the most efficient way of killing them, if not the funnest. Surprisingly, as frequent as the Linchens are at night, they remain relatively secret to the outside world. They first showed up in the year 2060 as far as we know, and only in this city. A handful of us hunters (roughly 50) are really all that stand between the Linchens and domination. Only we know of them, and that's how it stays. The civilians we save just before they would be killed become our soldiers. That may be all you need to know right off the top. Anything else you need to know will be told to you as needed. As you saw, we just cleared out the Castle of Grünfeld. Now, we are on our way to our base of operation, the basement of an old, abandoned warehouse in the heart of downtown, where all of the oldest buildings stand. The ride home so far has been pretty quiet. Quiet, but proud... ...but what would you expect from three soldiers who slay monsters at 3 o'clock in the morning? (Okay, somebody else introduce a character, and then we'll get to the story. I didn't want to with just me behind the wheel. As soon as there's another character, we'll move it along. Just do something similar to what I did here, but be sure to ask me on Yahoo before you go.)

*Another bit of third person…just because it’s so cool* Elinthar’s eyes narrowed and he turned his head to the barely protected entrance to the dining hall. Distracted from his General enemy on the ground, he sneered at the pounding just outside it. Aggravated, he yelled and turned back to Garth. “You people and your persistence,” He said. “Don’t you know when you’re beaten?” Garth would have responded were he not shocked to the point of death. “No matter,” Elinthar said after a moment. “At least you know when you’re beaten.” His wings rose to an arched position, and slammed back down as hard as Elinthar could get them to. He didn’t leave the ground, but it was enough to set the silent Garth further into death. “As soon as they manage to slam through that door they’re all going to die,” Elinthar continued. “The Syrakk will take care of that, and I’ll get away as always.” “M---My…” Garth started. “Your men are as dead as you are,” Elinthar continued, the chaos in the hall quieting as the Syrakk began to finish off the soldiers in the hall. “Back in the sanctuary one just lost his head, and three seconds ago another was all but quartered in the corridors.” “You’re going to…luh…” “Oh, I will not lose,” Elinthar countered, a little irritated. “There is absolutely nothing that could come through THAT door *gesturing to the dining hall entryway* that could possibly stand a chance against me…” A collection of splints and wood burst from the doors, landing more than five feet away. Elinthar once again turned his head, this time totally losing sight of Garth, even in his peripheral. Garth exhaled deeply in relief and his heart went back to work with a thud that rocked his entire chest. Elinthar increased stature stormed toward the dining hall doors, walking along the broken line of tables in the center of the room. He cursed under his breath as he did, the chains on robes shaking and letting out sounds that suggested his own importance. The Syrakk that were unlucky enough to stand in his way barely had time to get out a screech before his presence over powered them and they shattered, collapsing inward into a pile of exoskeleton—the rest of their corpses evaporating instantly into the air. Garth submerged into a tired half conscious state now that he was out of the walking terror’s grasp. As he did, he watched as the towering figure made his way. When he reached the door, he paid little attention to the small pieces of wood flying from the door as the people just outside continued to force it down. Elinthar was no more than two yards away when he made his move. The organized powerful thuds that had been doing well to break the lock on the door were now scattered and thus less powerful, the idea being to simply get the rest of the door down as soon as possible. “An unwise decision from your people Garth,” Elinthar said, without looking back at the weakened soldier. By this point, the few soldiers that had actually entered the dining hall with Garth were now all either dead or subdued, most likely to be used as food later. Elinthar’s head dropped down, as if he were thinking to himself. “Human life is so short, General. Why would you toss it away on such a false hope?” He asked, and then raised a single arm that protruded from his black robes. “Don’t…” Garth started. “Don’t kill…” “Oh, General I would never kill anyone,” Elinthar laughed, still keeping his hand forward and his back to Garth. “Except for this….” A burst of bright red and yellow energy left Evil’s hand, and flew towards the door in front of him. The door shattered, sending large chunks of wood into the bodies of the people outside closest to the door. Even more were knocked back by the wave of energy that followed, pushing them up against the corridor wall. Groans and yells could be heard, and very soon after several people lay dead. Those left standing ran towards those who were injured. In terms of ratio, the injured only accounted for about one quarter of the people there. “And maybe a few other times,” Elinthar stated before he made his way through the entryway. “Too bad for them who stand in my way.” As the superior power made his way under the doorway *through which he had to duck slightly given his increased height* People backed away in awe. Several instantly fainted, several simply starred in wonder. A choice few were unfazed, but still remained with the crowd to see what it was they were looking at. Those who were previously attending to the wounded now disregarded them, too concerned with Elinthar. “So…” Elinthar started, looking down on the crowd of people and soldiers that had formed a circle around him, the only weakness being in the doorway through which Elinthar had entered the corridor. “This is the rag tag group of people that were set on ridding this place of danger.” Elinthar received no more response than the blank responses of those around him. It would have been very easy to kill them, of course—a simple thought if necessary. But for now, he was quite content in simply having their attention. “Well if that’s the case then you certainly haven’t done your work then, have you?” Elinthar continued, pleased with himself and adding just a bit of optimism in his tone. Elinthar looked back into the Dining hall for a moment, surveying the abundance of Syrakk and the wounded Garth who was being ignored by them, just as he wanted. “An entire legion of my minions sits in that room,” Elinthar continued. “But they only represent the smallest fraction of what I could unleash on you.” He once again surveyed the confusion in the crowd, growing the smallest smirk on his face. “Demon…” Someone in the back muttered, and Elinthar quickly turned to him, stifling his own “might” so that he could possibly have a conversation with the speaker. “Demon?” Elinthar asked. “Is that the limit of your view, mortal?” “It’s what you are…an embodiment of evil,” the speaker *a young man, probably still in his early teens with longer dark hair and civilian clothing* continued. Elinthar frowned at him, and then perked up once again. “As valid a point as any,” He said. “Unfortunately, it’s a boring one.” Elinthar focused his eyes lower now, looking at the random sharpened leg of furniture the boy carried. He was clenching it as tightly as a toddler does a blanket. “You know what makes evil all the more fun, Jacob?” Elinthar asked the boy, “The means to exact it.” Jacob noticed the loss of control in his hands. His grip on the wooden spike he carried grew even stronger than he knew he could grip it. He looked down on his hands, which were beginning to bleed from the pressure, and then looked desperately back up at the towering menace, his eyes watering. Elinthar continued to stare straight at him. “You see, Jacob. In the end, there’s nothing you can do to prevent your own death. And as your soul tells me, you never really found time to pick a spiritual alliance did you?” Elinthar teased. “Too bad for you…” Jacob looked around the crowd, searching for assistance. He received only the same blank stares from the crowd that they had given Elinthar. Not that they didn’t want to save the boy, but a combination of fright and shock prevented them from doing so. Elinthar made sure of that. His tears were now stronger, flowing down his face. “Jacob…” Elinthar started, and the boy’s eyes once again met the demons. “I’ll see you around.” With a quick thought, Elinthar forced the teen’s hands to turn the spike inward and thrust it into his unprotected chest. He let out a cough which spouted blood onto his chin and clothes. “Such wasted potential,” Elinthar continued, and released his invisible grip on the boy. Jacob’s hands flew from the spike as soon as possible, and he fell against the wall, still coughing and watching his own life end. He was quickly ignored by the others in the crowd. “As for the rest of you,” Elinthar said, raising his already powerful voice. “If you don’t wish to end up like our youthful friend here, I suggest you do as I ask. I know you all want to get back to your short, pointless lives. And that can of course be done, as soon as you do something for---“ “No,” Another one in the crowd started. “I don’t live for you.” “Oh, so you think you live for Him, do you?” Elinthar asked. “Well if that’s the case, why isn’t he saving you? Why isn’t he protecting you from your own would be execution. Why isn’t…” “Those that believe in Him are shielded from your evil, for all eternity. Nothing you can do could change that.” Another random voice started. Elinthar peered at them as well. He didn’t really have anything to say to counter that statement. It was the best he could do to invisibly strangle the woman who said it, cutting off her life as he willed it. “Shall we continue with this debate or shall you start listen…” Elinthar started. “You can’t hurt us,” another voice said, causing Elinthar to become a little worried that they may soon try to rid him from his vessel. “That’s enough,” Elinthar started. “You aren’t worth my time.” Elinthar once again peered at just about everyone in the corridor, and smiled before he turned his back on them, the people beginning to follow them. Before they could, a wall of flames strode up behind Elinthar, trapping him in the dining hall. Angered and bewildered, the mob simply stared quietly at what they could through the flame. A few seconds later, one of the people in the crowd dropped to the ground as his clothes and body ignited. The flames were wild, and people backed away from it as soon as they noticed. His screams were loud, and almost unbearable. Almost as instantly as he had burst into flame, another hapless mob member did. She twirled around in circles, yelling terrible curses and asking for help. A third ignited, and the unstoppable pattern continued in the pattern that Elinthar had looked at the people in the crowd just before he turned his back on them. Inside the dining hall, Elinthar once again spoke to Garth, this time not trying to kill him. The man was injured enough to where he wouldn’t move anyway. “That’s a bad break for them. Burning is one of the worst ways to go,” Elinthar started, tightening the gloves that covered his hands. “Although, it is a little encouraging; it’s not everyday you get to send thirty three people into flame without giving it a second thought.” “Demon!” Garth shouted, to hurt to say what he really wanted. “Yes, I suppose that’s true,” Elinthar said, turning toward the crowds of Syrakk. “But unlike most demons…” he started, wiping some dust off of his robes. “I have a body.” The Syrakk vanished in one giant shift, disappearing into the air. Elinthar gave a crooked smile before stretching his wings and disappearing as well. The wall of fire blocking the entrance to the Dining Hall fell, and the now thirty two burning corpses in the corridor disappeared. As to wear they were transported, Garth didn’t know. What he did know, however, was that he heard the clashing of metal boots running through the corridor now…he was relieved to know that not all of his men were dead. OOC: Okay, I hope that little exhibition of evil was enough for now. I would have posted some of us in the cave, but SOMEONE wanted to tell a story first. Man…it is really going to bite when we have to go up against that guy…

DON'T post, anybody---I'm writing mine right now

AHHH!!!!!!!!! You Killed everyone! WHAT IN THE HECK ARE WE GONNA DO NOW!?!!??!?! Everyone is going to die....

Yeah, that's not a lie. This here---Only the SECOND poem I've ever done EVER. ---I'm not much of a poet, huh? Oh well, bare with me. It ought to get better eventually A & S Abandoned or Shielded The two kinds of people Extremes together Opposites intertwined Intolerable allies Together they work their evil Producing identical outcomes Abandoned or Shielded Abandoned is to be alone Working for yourself Pushing away others Who might pull you down A level of dependency No one needs Abandoned or Shielded Shielded is to be alone Not knowing fear or hate Materials handed to you Drowning you in your bliss It separates you from “them” You can’t relate Abandoned or Shielded Together they torment Stalking new souls Claiming new victims The lonely, the few They stand so close Yet it is impossible To say even ‘hi’