Recent Statuses

4 mos ago
Current Back from the dead. Braaaaiiiiinnnsss
3 yrs ago
I'm quitting Roleplayerguild due to personal issues. Apologies for inconvenience.


User has no bio, yet

Most Recent Posts

@13org Go for it. You do you.
I'm dropping out, sorry all.
Zane Wulfe

The Lady was beautiful, though it was deeper than her aestetics. She smelled of iron, its signiture scent imprinted on her through a lifetime of practice with the sword. Frankly, he could never hope to equal her skill with the blade, her grace born of eternity, so he didn't try to emulate her.

Lycans are naturally instinctive, indeed they were said to be wolves who learned to take the form of man, so in battle he fed into those instincts. When he first approached the Lady about this, she was leery. Relying on instincts meant opening yourself up to darker emotions that could cloud judgement and even lead to becoming a berserker and attacking everyone around you. She had eventually agreed on the condition he practiced mental discipline to keep his emotions in check.

There had been several false starts, most notably the time he had almost strangled one of the teachers. He had barely managed to leave the room without breaking the rules after the speech about caging the beast. He was the beast.

In the end it was Odin who, as always, had the answer to his issue. When a wolf is on the hunt with the pack they focus on the prey, letting all other concerns fall to the wayside. By visualising his target as his prey, he could slip into a state between his instincts and his conscious mind. He would never, even under threat of death, tell the Lady that he saw her as a giant fluffy bunny when using this technique.

Words were useless during the actual combat, Zane was a wolf of few words even when he wasn't focusing. His way of fighting was more brutish than both the Lady and Neoh, preferring to block or deflect attacks rather than dodge. The fight had been in the Lady's favour from the start, though his natural endurance had managed to last him a good forty five minutes without a break. His sword was currently chipping under the blows, this would make the second one this year that broke under the stress. Zane himself wasn't much better, his body was covered in wounds, mostly shallow due to his regeneration, and his shirt was currently in shreds.

”I give, Lady Blackhart.” Zane growled, his breathing shallow from exertion and wasting energy in regeneration. The two spent another fifteen minutes discussing the fight, or rather the Lady breaking down the fight with Zane’s occasional input. After stretching to make sure he wasn't stiff later, he bid the Lady farewell and headed to the canteen for a meal so he could stop feeling dead inside.
Zane Wulfe

Zane was working on his passion project. The Mooncycle was going to be a combination of science and magic to make the fastest motorbike he could create. The main problem was in dealing with the effects enchantments had on mechanical and electrical appliances.

It was especially hard to be forced to avoid iron. While the fae weren't the only enchanters, the natural magic resistance in iron and its alloys made it unfeasible for the bike. He was currently looking at making the body from carbon fibre, a strong and lightweight material but insanely expensive in small shipments.

His pen scratched across the page as he worked. It was going to be a cruiser type motorcycle, as he planned to use it as a mission transport when completed. The engine was up in the air, he was personally leaning towards a turbocharged V6 engine if he could convince one of the mage to shrink it down. For some reason messing with an object that fuctions by explosion was considered insane. The fuel wasn't an issue, as everfilling vessels are among the most common enchantments. Looking up at the clock, he realised his session with the evil swordbitch was in ten minutes. He hoped fighting the small lizard had tired her out, but he wasn't that lucky.
Got a character for ya. @Shard

Felix had returned to his flat, deciding to skive off his lecture as this was more important. Technically his family owned the whole building, it was a townhouse built by one of his uncles who moved out to America in the eighteen hundreds. It was left to the family aftrr he died of unknown, but messy, causes. Admittedly the place had barely been updated since it was first built, however it made up for the lack of modern conveniences by being built over two minor leylines. Perfect for warding against the clan's more than mundane enemies.

Currently he was checking the Identity Ward, a defensive spell designed by Great Uncle Merlin during the fifteen hundreds to hide their bloodline. Brilliant spell crafter, dumb as a brick when it came to women. According to the family journal he got tricked and turned into an oak tree like the original Merlin. The ward was burned out, along with many of his more delicate defences. It seemed someone had unleashed a powerful burst of magic in the city. Great.

Judging by the intensity, and the malevolence eminating from the aftershock, it wasn't a nice type of magic either. So it was either some idiot messing with something they shouldn't and unleashing evil magics... or something broke through regardless. Either way he should probably let someone know. Bourke was from a line of dhampir, she'd probably believe him. He dialled her number on his phone.

"Yo Hack!" Felix said, "It's FF. Something big from our side has appeared, shorted out my wards. Just a heads up."

"Oh I heard she was quite attractive." Felix replied, giving another grin. It was amusing to mess with her, and she was definitely pretty when embarrassed. Plus her boobs were quite soft. "Though she wasn't probably nearly as beautiful as you. After all a fantasy of some lunatic is nothing compared the the bared truth of reality, as the abstract painting is no match for the sunrise after a storm."

As he flirted, his eyes flitted through the book. His hand twitching as the scent of Magna was making his battle instincts flare up. Penhand running on autopilot, he offered an apologetic smile to the woman opposite.

"Sorry, I suffer from ADD. If I'm not doing at least three things simultaneouly I get antsy."

Felix was broken out of his reminiscing by the arrival of Ruth. A momentary flicker of recognition was all that occurred seeing his sparring partner as Fire Fist. Magna was vicious in a fist fight, especially when in her big form. The cogs in his head were turning at lightspeed, thinking of how to mess with her.

"Oh, this is just a minor assignment. I tend to think better when multitasking." Felix explained, giving a mischievious smirk, "One of my friends told me about this woman who grew to fifty feet, completely shredding her clothes. I was wondering if it was due to a shift in density or possibly using some form of unknown molecule. Of course, he could be lying, I mean a fifty foot naked woman? Sounds like someone's horny dream."

Closing the book on metahumans, he got up to replace it with a book on the history of unarmed fighting in Europe. It was always good to see what the Americans had to say on the subject.

Felix was currently in his university's library, reading a book on the history of Mega City and a book on metahumans. While writing a paper on the impact of tomb raiders to archeology. His Atttention Defecit Disorder had been a part of ever since he was a child. It was useful as hell in combat, as his brain was wired for the fast paced action, but in civillian life he require at least three things to do at once else he started to get antsy.

He still had a lecture to attend at three o'clock, which was why he was still at the college. Some of the other students who worked for Arrowcaster might shirk their studies, but he wanted to actually pass his exams. Then again Count Hackula built a battle robot so she probably doesn't need to study.

Thinking back to last night he smiled. It wasn't a pleasent smile, more the grin of a cat that has caught a mouse. He was out on patrol alone, as Fire Fist, when he came across a group of thugs doing a drug deal in one of the warehouses on the docks. Adrenaline pumped through his veins as he dodged the bullets, using crates, barrels, even some of the thugs as cover. Once he got in close, it was a dance of death... sans the actual death for the most part. For kost, he simply broke their arms and legs. The ones who managed to hit him, even glancing blows, weren't so lucky. There where three of them, the first got lucky with a snapped neck. The second had his ribs shattered so he would internally bleed to death. The third was the last man standing so he could take his time. He used a pressure point to seal off his throat so he choked to death. Before leaving, he used small bursts of energy on his fingertips to burn his sign on the last guy's chest.

Good times.
© 2007-2017
BBCode Cheatsheet