Right, I'm scraping Wolf and I want to try out my new characters. Who wants a go?

viewtopic.php?f=23&t=13404&start=30

ok, i'll go.

I'll start with Shadow, the others may join later. He's my newest character and I'm kinda excited to use him.

Shadow sat out front of his favourite bar, wishing his wallet weren't drained of all cash. He couldn't set foot inside without paying a little of his already high tab. "Damn this world and it's money" He exclaimed.

I cast my ballad. In fact... I'll do something completely and utterly out of character by my standards. I'll start.

I will be using Zesper "Luck" McGothern. (Mask on and hood up.)
http://forums.mcleodgaming.com/viewtopic.php?f=23&t=10317&p=255535#p255535
It's the last profile.

Not to waste any time, I'll decide on location. An abandoned cathedral in the middle of a forest. It made from various rocks, giving it the appearance of ruins. The local plant life has already claimed most of the establishment, with vines draping around pillars and a magnificent oak tree growing out of the altar. I trust you know the basic rules of RPing.

I'll start.

A lone figure sat in one of the many rows of granite benches that filled the lonely hall of the long since forgotten church. This place was one of the very few few things that Luck held held dear to his heart. Three years ago, he discovered the cathedral while lost in the wilderness after following and murdering a hunter for his set of skinning knives. Despite his treacherous ways, visiting the church to confess to his sins seemed to ever-so-slightly relieve the anxieties and nightmares that plagued his mind. Looking up to the large dome ceiling high above, Luck gazed in awe at the beautiful scene that was painted on the ceiling by a skilled artist long ago. Slowly, he let his gaze travel down the elegantly carved walls before resting on the tree that boldly grew in the center of the room. It was quite beautiful, yet terribly out of place at the same time. It was a wonder that the tree was even alive in a place such as this. Sighing, Luck adjusted his mask and bowed his head. He felt dirty and unfit to even be looking upon, let alone sitting in this holy place. Just as he was about to get up to leave, Luck felt an odd sensation, as if someone else was there. Quickly, he crouched down, the benches obscuring him, and reaching into his cloak, he brandished a dirk. Still crouching, he tip-toed to the end of the row and poked his head ever-so-carefully into the aisle to see if there was anybody there.

EDIT: Oh, wait. You already posted.

viewtopic.php?f=23&t=14954
I'll use Keith
and let's stick to Zesper's story, as it is longer and better than Ishtom's.
and I still remember Quality over quantity.


Keith encounters a church while searching for water in the forest, which looks more like a war battlefield than a holy place. He slowly walks up to the church, not knowing if he is safe or not. He then started for the door. He saw an aisle, and began to walk down there. "I think this cathedral is deserted", Keith proclaimed. "Well... maybe we should stop and pra-". Just as Aishka was about to finish the word, they heard someone in the main room. Keith's mind was in a breakneck pace, and he quietly dissociated his Sabre from his backpack. He hid in a small room, as he saw a head poke out of the main room.

Ooc: First time RP, gimme some feedback.

((Would it be overkill if i joined in?))

I have always wanted to face off with a fellow pro. (Besides Hatter.)

Please do.

OOC:... Fine carry on with out me...

Shadow wandered towards the old church, although he knew not where he was in his drunken state, but carried on till he collapsed two feet from the enterance. He heard sounds around him but made no attempt to find them, he wasn't yet passed out but he was close to it. Getting back to his feet, he held the wall of the church to find it wobble beneath his weight. "Damn, -this place 's wors' n me 'ome" He slurred.

O.O.C.
_________________________________________________________________________________
I'll wait to see if Nini posts before I do anything.

(I will be using Niniva, viewtopic.php?f=23&t=693&start=0 With Her rifle loadout instead of her pistol. Skip the colored portion if you don't wanna read [Shame on you])

The horse-drawn caravan trudged its way through the beaten forest path through the soft hail of a somber rain. Within the coach, Niniva sat hunched over upon a benched seat. Elbows upon her knees, a brown cigarette hanging loosely from her lips. The end burning orange, Niniva tugged it from her mouth and let a thin trail of violet-colored smoke drift off her lips. Across from her sat a man in a heavy red winters coat extending easily down over his legs, covering most of his features. His hair a golden blond and secured neatly in a ponytail down his upper back. Clean shaven, and appearing quite well-to-do and in his late 20's at best.

"Alright, Brief me" Niniva stated plainly, eyes averted towards the exposed back of the caravan, gazing out into the rain drenched forest; her free hand clutching the side of her face as she flicked her cig lightly with the other. Her forest green hair hanging off of her cheeks.

The man lunged his arms behind his head in a casual fashion. "Your target is Zesper "Luck" McGothern, An assassin known for several rather high-profile killings in this area of the world, he is recognized as always wearing a mask. The client felt it necessary to explain this sortie be done with within 24 hours. Hence the sudden deployment."

Niniva sat, idle in her position for a few moments. "Target Area?" she replied finally.

"Some old cathedral out in these woods, we will be deploying you a half-mile or so away lest we be spotted before hand. Intelligence suggests he goes there for some kind of reconciliation, something or other." The man retorted.

"Couple of murderer's fighting it out in a place of worship.. how sacrilegious" She stated callously, taking another drag off the cigarette before tossing it out the back of the caravan, smoke drifting from her mouth once more. Eyes shutting.

"Well you've never exactly been the religious type have you?" He replied jokingly.

"Funny" she stated back. A sudden jerk of the caravan upward causing her rifle upon her back to shake somewhat, along with the varies knives and pouches fitted onto her black vest, a cloak shrouding her clothing and gear beneath it, leaving only her head exposed.


Niniva opened back up her eyes. That had all been two hours ago now, and she had been reminiscing. Currently she was crouched in the back corner of a balcony overlooking the rows of seats in front of the altar and tree. The tree was large enough to block much of the view of this balcony, so it had made an ample place to lie in wait.

Her sensitive ears perked to the faint sound of movement within the cathedral.. their collective smell filling her nostrils.. she could catch the hint of alcohol. Someone had been drinking.. She could also catch the hint of spiritual essence.. though not produced from this sacred holy ground.. no.. it reeked from yet another participant in the area.. finally she could catch the smell of her target. She knew it had to be him.. the stench of stale blood never eludes one such as herself. Only those who have killed, and often, reek of it so prevalently. She sneered silently to herself, inching her way towards the railing and peering over into the rows below. Her sight hindered by the branches of the large tree, though she could see easily enough someone was now crouched within a row and he wore a mask.

And thats him She thought to herself callously, slowly slipping the rifle from her back and lining the barrel over the railing, gazing an eye down the scope towards him. One such as himself, she knew wouldn't be felled so easily. He wasn't any pudgy aristocrat afterall. In the silence of the church, she heard only her breathing and the gentle click of the chamber as she yanked the lever of her rifle, ready to shoot. Time to test his awareness.. she thought to herself as she sat idle, aimed and ready, Faintly hearing the other two within the vicinity. It mattered not, under those such circumstances, you just have more to do, is all.

Finding the enterance he stumbled in, noticing another in the church he moved carefully toward him. "Ey! Wat euww doin'?" He asked, still unable to make sense of anything, "Damn, 'm I thirsty"

Luck
_______________________________________________________________________________
As Luck inspected the newcomers with something of a condescending attitude, a feeling of unease ticked his consciousness. He immediately identified this feeling as his sixth sense, and from his years of experience had learned to listen to it. Closing his eyes, Luck mentally blocked out the previous distractions and chose to to pour all his focus into one sense. Hearing.

...

"Click"

All thoughts that were previously in his head were flushed out by the sound he had just heard.
An all too familiar sound. The sound of a rifle being readied. With lightning fast reflexes, Luck threw himself backward into the row, nearly cracking his skull open on the seat of a stone bench. The unexpected surprise and danger sent him into a severe adrenaline rush, his body shaking violently and he began to grin involuntarily. The sudden rush of blood to his head was almost too much for the assassin and he slumped against the back of a bench to catch his breath. Once the heavy breathing subsided and he began to think rational thoughts, an idea began to take form inside his head. Ever so slowly, he edged toward the corner and carefully peered around it to see where he had heard the sound, taking care not to show any of his masked face.

Using logic and deduction, he guessed that the sound must of come from somewhere high up, by the faintness and lack of echo. Most likely the balcony of the second floor. On any normal occasion, he would be able to dispatch of the ambusher with a lazy flick of a throwing knife. Not a problem. But there was one large obstacle that kept this from being a simple scenario. The large, leafy oak that grew defiantly in the front-center of the hall. It's leafy foliage blocked out any clear view of the balcony. A hidden assailant. Luck withdrew his dirk and slid it underneath his cloak onto it's rightful place on his vest, silently cursing the tree for it's uniqueness. His hopes of retaliation were nearly dashed, when his eyes caught one large detail he had left out of the equation. The stain-glass window. At the very front of the church was a large, elegant stain-glass window that depicted a great battle from a long forgotten war. Unlike most other things in the chapel, time had failed to rob the window of it's beauty. A venomous smile slowly spread across his face at the idea that had just occurred. Turning his attention away from the front, he scanned his row for a particular item. His eyes came to rest on a chunk of marble that lay a few inches away from where he crouched. It must of come from the walls. Picking it up, he weighed it in his hand. It was rather smooth for rubble and was about the size of his fist. The perfect projectile. Satisfied, he focused his attention back to the window.

For a moment, something inside him stirred. A strange thought. It dimly shined through the thick cloud of apathy that plagued his mind. "Turn yourself in. Give up." For a few split seconds, Luck was stunned by what he had just thought. He had never experienced regret before, and felt quite alien. But as suddenly as it appeared, the thought was lost under his usual overwhelming false righteousness, and his thoughts returned to the task at hand. He had only one chance. With the speed of Hermes, Luck shot out from out behind the bench. Pulling his arm back, he threw the stone as hard as he could at the stain-glass window. If he were to miss, the consequences would be dire. But to his twisted delight, the projectile flew straight and true, hitting it's mark. The center of the window. The stone smashed straight through the bars of rusted iron that held the window together, and with a loud groaning sound the window collapsed into itself, sending a rain of glass down to the balcony below. Taking the element of surprise to his advantage, Luck sped down the isle as low to the ground as he could and flung himself at the oak's wide trunk.

(Looks like its just us, done waiting for them ._.)

Niniva smirked slyly to herself at his lightning-bolt reaction to the sound of her rifle readied. She then had begun to aim around the vicinity in a search for her target, his distinct fragrance filling her sensitive nostrils. His dash had been fast enough to temporarily evade her perception. Keeping her eye settled to the lenses of her scope, she slowly panned her barrel around, searching. "I love a good hunt.." she callously thought to herself. Her ears then bristled with the sudden sound of his frantic dash. "There!" she said silently, aiming her barrel towards the direction of the noise and pulling the trigger as he sped off. The hot lead ball erupted from her weapon in a burst of flame, whistling through the air, missing just over his shoulder and piercing into the wooden plank of the churches floor. In that same second, she lurched the lever back and turned the revolving chamber crafted upon the reloading mechanism. With a 'snap' and a 'click', her next shot was ready.

Just as she was reloading, her ears perked to the crash of glass. She had been too absorbed in the shot to note the piece of marble so readily gripped and thrown by her opponent. As large shards of falling painted death descended upon the balcony she clutched her rifle against her chest and attempted a backwards roll towards the rear portion of the platform, a shard slicing across her right cheek as she did so, impaling the flooring. Her oil-like blood coated the side of the shard that had just barely sliced by. Knelt in the back, she reveled in the challenge. "Cunning.." she said openly into the barren church. Slipping the rifle across her back into its holster and tensing her shoulders; Niniva grasped at Nyx upon the right side of her waist; pulling it from its sheath, holding it underhanded at her side. She sat still for the moment, taking in her environment, she didn't quite catch where he had dashed in the midst of the shard-fall. Nevertheless it was time to make her move.

The Lucarvi shut her eyes and commenced a subtle hymm, a spell of brown hue illuminating around her. The rather lush amount of caked up dirt and dust on the old balcony swiveled around her feet, quickly collecting together. A small dust storm of sorts churned and collected into a condensed orb of dirt, grime and earth in front of her, held together by an unseen force. The ball then rolled of its own accord slowly towards a broken edge of the balcony, slipping off towards the first floor. Upon hitting the surface the ball erupted in a large dispersing cloud of dust, a make-shift smoke bomb. Just as her ears caught the sound of impact she burst into sprint and leapt out over the railing of the balcony, closest to the dilapidated wall of the long forgotten holy sanctum. As she descended down into the cover of dust, her free hand grasped at a growing vine along the wall in the same instant she thrust a foot against the aged side of the church. In a graceful crescent leap, she shot herself from off the wall, flung through the air. With a loud crash she landed, knelt, in the center aisle, facing the large tree and where he happened to be taking cover. The dust had cleared enough by now for her to make out the faint silhouette of his figure before her. She then pulled Hemera from its sheath with a sound of scraping metal, preparing her assault. Being the longer of the two blades, she retracted it across her chest as Nyx was held at her side, prepared to strike. With a look of ferocity in her hazel eyes, she dashed towards the figure, distorted with the ever-thinning clouds of earth.

Ooc: Damn, I missed so much. Iunno where to start. I don't even know where the hell you guys are in the cathedral. My bad if this throws off the RP.

Keith slowly walks into the chapel. It seems no one was there at all. He quickly grabs a bible from the shelf, and kneels in front of the altar. He begins praying and slowly searches the bible for a scripture with cursory. He stops on Isaiah 5:1, and reads silently to himself. "I will sing for the one I love a song about her vineyard: My loved one had a vineyard on a fertile hillside." He remembers his mother, who he always loved and took care of her garden and vineyard. He bows his head, and prays that his mother is safe and impervious. Just as he finishes, he hears a gunshot outside the chapel. Keith staggers up to his feet, and grabbed his Sabre from his sheath. He bolted to the door, and peaked outside. Nothing. He walks down the hallway, his heart beating like the Africans beating their drums in a ritual. He walks into another room, seems to be an office. Well, it seemed to be one. He stayed there, to hear if there was any other source of noise. Keith then paused, sat still, and rejuvenated.

CRASH

He hears a noise, similar to a window breaking. He jumps up and dashes for the door. He trips halfway, and crawls the rest of the way to the door. He peeks outside. He sees a large tree, but no one alongside it. He walks to the tree, sits and rest. He can hear something behind him, but doesn't notice it a bit. It gets louder, and it seems to be footsteps. But not normal footsteps. The sound of running footsteps. Someone is charging at him.