Gauging interest for a shared universe.

^ Would'nt that make her a little too important, orrr...?

There's a hell of a difference between god-moded, like your ccharactr would be, and God-Moded.

God-Moded is, well, omnipotent- level. There'n no hope for your character to achieve near that level.

That said, yeah, I don't think this character would be cut out for this 'verse.

Sorry

Just curious, about the Alchemist character type....how do they work? like, in battle? Is it like Fullmetal Alchemist,orr? And does The Philospher Stone exist in this 'verse?

The Alchemists get all the fun toys.

They're ranged fighters, generally. They fight using slings, and something that looks sorta like a lacrosse stick.

Their ammunition is little bottles, filled up with a mysterious liquid. These liquids can have various effects; you have the acid potions, which burn away flesh, then you have your scalding potions, and your transmutate-metal-to-mercury trick, and you blood-replenishing potions.

Then you have the awesome ones. Like the agma one, which sprays liquid fire in every direction once the bottle ruptures. And the one that only eats away at non-organic substances (Power Perversion Potential Yay.) And the ones that freeze anything they touch. And the ones that spread deadly poisons everywhere in the air surrounding them.

Yeah, they're pretty deadly.

The Philosopher's Stone... Hmm, I'll be discussing this with the other Authors now. Hehehe

That could be a nice character goal-thingy. Like their dream is to get to/create the perfect philosophers. They searched for it....and they found it.....(haha FMA reference)

cutewithoutthe has been accepted as an author.

~throws confetti~

~realizes there is no confetti~

Well, this is embarassing.

Dealan, we need more confetti!

Okay. Here's how Dealan and I have started setting up our characters for the 'verse;

Name: Riana

Physical Appearance: Five feet four inches tall. She appears to be about nineteen years old.

Her hair is black, and she has harlequin green eyes. Her nose is smaller than you would expect, but apart from that, her features are average.

Her skin is pale, like that of the other Nephilim.

As all Nephilim do, she tends to wear black clothes. More specifically, she tends to wear black pants, white shirts, and a black jacket. Both the shirt and the jacket have slits in them, from which she can extend her wings.

Personality: She is naive person, having had little to no social experience in her life. She’s curious as to what everything is, because she has only ever heard of most things; she’s never seen most of it before. She is very badass in a fight, as she’s had more training in that sense than in anything else before.

Attitude: She is very bubbly and enthusiastic. She is outgoing and friendly. She has a habit of mixing complicated words into sentences that look like they shouldn’t belong in.

Background: She used to be a different person. Literally. Five years ago, she was one of the Old Guard, a millennia-old Nephilim. However, the school was attacked by a group of Sidhe Mages, and when the staff attempted to fight them off, she was caught in the backlash of a spell. Her memory was completely wiped.

Race/Species: Nephilim.

Staff/Student/Other: Student of the Nephilim Institute.

Archetype: Paranormal-style Monster Hunter

Fighting Style: She has a primarily defensive fighting style. She likes to thrust and cut with her weapon. She also has a habit of blocking with her weapon.

Relationships (if applicable):

Relevance to Plots:

{Heavily edit, of course}

So, for anyone new who wants to sign up, this is the character sheet.

Name: John Smith

Physical Appearance: 5’11 inches. Blonde hair, sometimes appearing brown. Blue eyes. Not skinny, but not fat. Strong jaw. Attractive, yet unattractive. Long hair, to two inches below the ears. Size 13 Shoe. Skin is tan from a Summer of fun in the sun. Appears 16. Wears normal, regular clothes

Personality: Is very independent, rebellious, and stubborn. You cannot tell John what to do, hell usually just do the opposite. John is very smart and artistic, but lacks the perseverance to see it through due to his laziness(and lack of attention.) . Likes brunettes. Has maid fetish(too much info?). Very funny when not depressed. May be a cynic at times, or a optimist; depends on the situation. Is very brave (when he wants to be). Smart and strategic if his or another’s life is in danger. Philosophical. Believes Jesus existed. Takes criticism to heart a little too much. A failure by design. VERY protective of his Nakama. By the way, do NOT get him angry. Hes like a charging boar when this happens. His kryptonite? Brunette Maids.

Attitude: When you first meet him, he seems very quiet and aloof, but once you get to know him the more friendly he becomes. A deadpan snarker. Loves sarcasm. Can go from a cynic to a spazz in two seconds.

Background: Normal human till he got sent to the school. Misses a girl he lost named Lily, who disappeared after saving him. Mother committed suicide; dads too busy to take care of him. Lives with foster parents. From a small town in Virgina.

Race: Human

Staff/Other Thing Cygan Put: Student

Archetype: Monster Hunter

Fighting Style: Crappy; for now.

Relationships: Lily. Love interest.

Relevance to Plots: Unknown, for now..

Finally got that thing written >.> Can I post it here? I'm not exactly self-concious, and I'd appreciate input from anyone. I guess I will. Pretty sure the title is "Beginnings and Endings and Odd Little Girls"

Raindrops splashed over the still-smoldering ashes of Lydia Jequille’s former house (a formerly austere former center-entrance colonial in what had formerly been dark brick). They sizzled into little wisps of vapor for a few minutes until the stone cooled and the rain picked up. Then they just made everything wet.

This bothered Lydia, the small girl watching over the rubble, perhaps more than the idea that the rubble had formerly been her house.

It had never been very interesting to her as a house, but then, for a few shining minutes, it had been on fire. Too bright to look at. Too hot to touch. It had stood alone in its power and its magnificence, a little red inferno where the raindrops dared not fall.

But time had come around and had its way with things. Nothing so brilliant can ever last.

Lydia kicked a cinder moodily and disappeared into the neighborhood, whistling an innocent melody that was all but lost under the sound of sirens climbing in the distance.

•

“Lydia, darling, we can’t keep meeting like this.”

Lydia, wrapped in a fluffy bathrobe that had lost, over the years, sizable patches of its fluff, ignored the woman’s teasing and edged closer to the fireplace. The fireplace was the heart of a cozy den, framed on every side by stacks of old periodicals, gardening magazines, gossip tabloids, high-brow literature, and cheap harlequin romance novels, all stacked together indiscriminately into a great towering fire-hazard of a living space. The room was one of several in a ramshackle town-house, structurally sound, but overgrown in every way imaginable. It stood a few miles walk from the ashes of Lydia’s former official residence. It belonged to the woman, Gladys Remmington-Jequille-Smith, who was tangentially unrelated to Lydia through several marriages and divorces.

Lydia wasn’t sentimental enough to consider the woman a mother figure—indeed, Lydia was rather attached to her own biological mother, but Gladys fulfilled an important role in Lydia’s life nonetheless. She was there to appreciate Lydia for whatever she was. She asked no questions when the girl appeared soaking wet in the middle of the afternoon, and held up both sides of a conversation with ease, for Lydia seldom spoke. Lydia’s immediate family simplified Gladys, the only former spouse of either parent with whom the girl was acquainted, into “step-mother”.

“…so I said to the mailman that if he didn’t want to deliver them I would be more than happy to stop receiving them but of course he…he…” Gladys trailed off from what had been a steady stream of meandering anecdote and turned up the volume on a small television propped up on a stack of encyclopedias. “Darling, what’s your address? Fourteen Thirty-two Sycamore, wasn’t it?”

Gladys let the news report play through the silence, until it had confirmed her suspicions and moved on to a segment about a local school’s book drive.

“Lydia, dear, have you burned down your house again?” she waited out of politeness or habit, but expected and received no response. “Is there…anything you wanted to tell me?” She waited again in vain, and then sighed. “I suppose it was an ‘accident’ again, Lydia, but one of these days, darling…” Gladys bent down and placed a hand on the girl’s shoulder, for lack of anything better to do, and went on as if nothing had happened, fixing Lydia a bowl of soup and making idle conversation until the girl’s parents showed up and thanked Gladys for looking after her as if it had all been planned out in advance and was absolutely nothing out of the ordinary. At this point, it practically was.

•

Lydia’s father, Robert C. Jequille the Fifth, was a hulking, burly man with a wiry mass of black hair and a reputation for killing things. He was a monster hunter, his only apparent power being his fists and his ability to convince people, implicitly, that he had a dozen more powers beside that. Lydia’s mother Giselle was similarly formidable; a skilled alchemist and a fiery ginger standing at six-one in heels—which she always wore but never tripped over, even in three inches of mud.

Lydia was…a genetic mystery, to say the least. Her hair was far closer to having no color at all than it was to being blond. She measured in at “smallest,” unfailingly and regardless of what she was being measured in relation to. Smallest in her class, and the class behind that, and the class behind that as well. She was, as far as anyone could discern, a mad scientist, although, as various school officials tried so delicately to communicate, a person must be educated in matters of science to be properly called a scientist. A mad scientist who has received no formal education is merely…mad.

Lydia was nearly fourteen, though she neither looked nor acted it. Her persistent silence was interpreted by most as the shy demeanor of a young child and, on the other end of the scale, she was frequently the only person present for instances of arson and mayhem far too sophisticated to be the fault of such a small, innocent child.

Her parents (for after several paternity and, just to be thorough, maternity tests, Robert and Giselle Jequille were indeed the only people who could be called that) had always intended for Lydia to attend the school they had graduated some years ago, the Nephilim Institute for Gifted Individuals, but had hesitated even after Lydia had turned the appropriate age, for understandable reasons. Certainly she couldn’t be thrust out into the big, hostile, world. She could barely brave a conversation with her parents, let alone a stranger. The closest thing she had to a friend was a twice-widowed, thrice-divorced woman in her early sixties.

But Gladys had been right. ‘Accidental arson’ was sounding more and more ridiculous by the incident.

Until she became a scientist, Lydia would never be more than mad. They left her at the academy gates halfway through the semester. Nephilim was accustomed to taking in students under unusual circumstances. Robert and Giselle’s short, tearful goodbye to Lydia was tainted with their relief of having the strange child out of their now-metaphorical house.

Lydia did not bother to watch them go. She trudged up to the main building, suitcase trailing behind, small wheels kicking up gravel and mud. She had never been more than a strange, slightly unwelcome presence in her parent’s house, like a ghost, or a rat, or the smell of smoke.

“A school full of other girls and boys like you,” her mother had said, talking down to her as usual, and lying as always. They wouldn’t be quite like her. Even by unusual standards, Lydia was strange. This had worried her parents.

It didn’t worry Lydia at all.

In a school like this, she wouldn’t stand out; she would disappear. She began to whistle quietly to herself as she walked.

Lydia liked the thought of that.

Disappearing.

edited 26th Nov '10 3:43:45 PM by DaeBrayk

Azher Kant

Physical Appearance: 5'10'' Slim, not too muscular. Bare-chested, covered in Tan Feathers where hair would normally be, as well as on the top 2/3 of her legs/thighs (and on her chest of course). Wings coming off her arms. Talons on her feet. Skinny Legs, cutoff jeans.

Personality: Remarkably curious and interested by all things shiny, Kant is a simple soul. She takes life as it comes to her, and she doesn't worry too much.

Attitude: A natural prankster, she's generally pleasant, but can be irritating to those who aren't used to her. Abides by the "For Teh Lulz" rule most of the time. In a fight, however, she's no slouch. Has a habit of seducing people (of either gender) for no good reason.

Background: Her family was migratory, but an injured wing forced her to stay grounded for a few months. She had always wanted to leave her family anyway, and so didn't meet them at the rendezvous point, preferring to go off on her own. She joined the Nephilim Institute a few years back.

Race/Species: She and her family are Harpies. Pretty much as described above, with varying colors of feathers. They're resistant to cold, as their feathers magically keep them warm. They are very light, and their bones are hollow and more easily breakable than a human's. They have heightened senses of hearing, smell, and vision. They have musical abilities like Bards from Dungeons And Dragons, but can also attack with sonic and ultrasonic screeches. Their wing feathers are razor-sharp and perfect for use as daggers, though pulling out too many at a time results in temporary (a month or so) loss of flight.

Staff/Student/Other: Student of the Nephilim Institute.

Archetype: Monster Hunter? Ki Warrior

Fighting Style: "Can't Touch This." She's remarkably fast and acrobatic, usually attacking from afar by throwing feathers and sound waves, infused with Ki to strengthen them.

Relationships (if applicable):

Relevance to Plots:

Not sure...

edited 26th Nov '10 6:59:28 PM by SalFishFin

I did have mythology in mind for the Harpies, but it's okay, I'm willing to change it to the vision you have in mind if you get accepted.

I don't have a problem with the character, but I'm asking someone else to come in and take a look, 'coz I'm sick and not thinking good or spelling properly.

Also Dae Breayk: Awesome story, it was fun to read. But why is time mesured in incidents?

Sal, I was told to ask; why does she sleep with people a lot? Harpies arent usually known for that.

Edited for spelling

edited 26th Nov '10 6:15:07 PM by CyganAngel

I wanted to convey that "accidental arson" sounded more ridiculous the more times it was applied. She accidentally incinerated the stove, the sofa, the dog, the house, and it sounds more ridiculous each time it happens, but this is independant of actual time passing.

(also, I know you're not the only author anymore, but is that a yes vote from you?)

edited 26th Nov '10 6:06:23 PM by DaeBrayk

Yeah, its a yes vote from me. I dont see that changing when Im better again, it was an awesome story.

She doesn't sleep with people. She just uses her song to attract them. She hasn't told me exactly why she does it yet, but she'll tell me when she's ready.

And, yes. All of my characters talk to me like this. I may be schizophrenic.

edited 26th Nov '10 6:24:58 PM by SalFishFin

You're fine, authors are like that.

Yes votes from me.

Azher just told me that she was raped. I slapped her and told her to come up with something else.

Okay, I also vote yes on Sal's character.

Thats two yess on both. One more, and Dae Breayk's in; one more, and Sal can proceed to the writing a scene stage.

Also, hehehehe

Who would rape a harpy? nd why would that make her more sexually active, instead of afraid of sex?

edited 26th Nov '10 6:31:34 PM by CyganAngel

Justification would be "I lost control of my body, and now I act out to control other people's bodies", but it doesn't matter since our beloved rape victim got bitchslapped.

Do you already have Dryads in this universe? I just thought up an ability list for them, and Azher said she wants one as a sidekick/love interest.

I like Sal's character, except for the Monster Hunter part. EVERYBODYS A MONSTER HUNTER AGHHHH!! We need Ki Warriors, Maages, and mad Scientists, goddamit.

Sal: Currently, no. Sidekicks, though, are exempt from the vetting process because if we only need to know about your main character and how well you can write. If you get approved, you will have the ability to propose Dryad powers, though if people don't like them, they won't be approved.

Cute: Dae Brayk's char is a Mad Scientist, if I remember correctly, and is very close to being approved, only needing one more vote.

I guess I could be a Ki Warrior of sorts. She could take a few Martial Arts classes, maybe infuse her Songs/sonic attacks with Ki to strengthen them?

edited 26th Nov '10 6:48:38 PM by SalFishFin

Yeah, that sounds really cool. I cant imagine it being a monster hunter, though. Ki Warrior would do better for it. (which is a yes, yes!, YES!!!, from meh.

edited 26th Nov '10 6:58:03 PM by cutewithoutthe

Dae, youre in now too!! :D (gives too long of a hug)

edited 26th Nov '10 7:09:10 PM by cutewithoutthe