Kingdom of Rain

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Name: Johanna Lennox
Age: 29
Description of appearance: Johanna stands at 5”10, an impressive height for a girl, and would be quite intimidating if it wasn't for her baby face. Her eyes, bright blue, are huge, making her look quite bug-like thanks to her narrow face. . She has a thin nose and full lips. Her hair is long and flaming red, hard to miss, and is usually worn out. She is much too thin in her own opinion, quite skeletal, but cannot do much about it thanks to mostly her fast metabolism and almost non-existent appetite.
Magical status: She can do a limited amount of magic - she began to learn, but dropped it after a short while.
Character background: Johanna was the third child of Kieth, her father, and his wife, Pernilla, who grew up in her sister, Cecilia's, shadow. She had no need to be loud, to make friends of her own, for she was willing to let her sister to do the work, too timid to act by herself. In her family, she felt quite alone, the only one she ever really connecting with being her brother, Frasier. Her mother did her best to include her in family activities, but Johanna would much rather be on her own.

She had never been very happy at home, and as her parents marriage began to fall apart when she was fifteen, she decided she had enough. She dropped out of school and ran away shortly after her sixteenth birthday to live with a mage who lived on the outskirts of the city from her hometown which was way up north. The mage taught her much magic, but she grew tired of the strict regime set down, and about six months into training dropped the idea of becoming a mage altogether and started working in a shop in the city centre to pay rent on a small room atop a restaurant. In her spare time, she used spare money to learn how to sword fight, something that had always interested her.

She very much regretted not going to university, and when she was twenty-one, she was contacted and told her parents had died in a fire, and her sister was very badly injured. Frasier was travelling at the time, and was therefore unharmed. She was left a considerable sum of money in the will, as was Frasier and with this, she paid to retake her exams and graduated many years later with a degree in chemistry. With this, she applied to be an assistant scientist in the experiments that took place in the city, and was accepted after the third time of applying. She has worked there ever since, loving the solitary work that a scientist must undertake.

Personality: Johanna grew up in her sister's shadow. She could have fought for the attention, but she learnt that she didn't much like the limelight. She prefers blending into the background, and never really talks – at all. The only time she talks if she has something of importance to say. She does not look for friends, and wouldn't know how to keep any if she did. One thing she will not do, however, is be late, thanks to her mother teaching her that promptness is polite. Johanna never really gets angry, but instead bottles it up. This once resulted in an explosion of fury, when she lashed out at her sister, but since then she has tried to keep it contained.




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Name: Orsonn (no last name)

Age: 23

Description of Appearance: Has a rather large nose, not ugly, but looks a little out of place,, especially when balanced by a slightly small mouth. Normally has medium-long reddish-brown hair, but can change his hair-color at will (a skill left over from centuries ago, when his family were the most powerful Sorcerers in the Realm, he has no other special powers, nor magical abilities)

is muscular and fast, like one who was bred to be a soldier. at a first glance, he appears fairly normal, but if you look into his eyes, you will glimpse madness. he's as crazy as they come.

Magical Status:
Color-changing hair, nothing else

Fighting Status: a deadly swordsman, and an expert marksman with almost any fire-arms. learned to fight from the best of the queen's guard teachers

Background: Was born and raised to be a Queen's Guard, his father and his father's father before him were of the Guard. He grew up with the soldiers kids as playmates. Was accepted into the guard at a young age, and from there, he rose quickly through the ranks... His father was slain the year after he was born, so he never really knew him. Orsonn saved the Crown Princess's life during an assassination attempt, and was the promoted to the Queen's Personal Guard (At the age of 19, the youngest ever given that rank.) The year after which, he started going mad, so say his friends and relatives.

He was discharged several months before the present date, after storming into the throne room, and denouncing the Rainmakers, and demanding their dispersal. he has lived alone, a phantom in the city, since then, his madness steadily getting worse.

Personlality: suspicious and paranoid...
Last edited by God on Mon Jun 16, 2008 12:00 am, edited 1 time in total.
Don't take life too seriously, no one gets out alive




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***I know I just wasted 5 points, but when can we start this thing???***
"Neglect not the gift that is in thee, which was given thee by prophecy, with the laying on of the hands of the presbytery." Timothy 4:14 KJV




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Yes you can start now. Mind you, I won't be posting my part of the story till like 1-2 days later due to internal assessments and revision and homework.
"To the edge of the universe and back. Endure and survive."




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**Great, and I won't be able to post from Tuesday until Sunday, central U.S. time. I'm sure my hotel has internet, but there's no way for me to MAKE sure. lol**
"Neglect not the gift that is in thee, which was given thee by prophecy, with the laying on of the hands of the presbytery." Timothy 4:14 KJV




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Orsonn:

Orsonn is stalking the streets of the city, lost in his thoughts. his longsword strapped to his back, a brace of pistols at his belt, his face unshaved and unwashed.

People seem to move out of his way as he walks, muttering to himself. Some of the the mothers clutch their children protectively. Like a phantom he drifts through the semi-crowded streets, as often taking the back alleys as teh main roads, as if he has no goals, no destinaiton. But if thats what you think, then you would be wrong. He is intentionally varying his path, trying to evade those whom he believes are following him... are they actually? we dont know.

suddenly he runs into someone (insert random character her, whoever wants to be ran into) He is surprised at this, most people avoid him. Who would have the gall to stand in his way, he is angry for a minute, until he sees who it is that he has ran into....
Don't take life too seriously, no one gets out alive




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**I hope this isn't too late. If it is just let me know, please.**

Name: Isabella Johan

Age: 18

Description of appearance: Her skin is pale, but not sickly pale. She has long black hair that ends a little below her waist. The tips are dyed purple. Her eyes are violet, to match the tips of her hair. She is tall and lanky, but fairly athletic. She tends to dress rather bizarrely, with skirts over jeans and other strange layers.

Magical status: She can do magic, and has been teaching herself for about 4 years now. It could use some training, but she's doing all right on her own.

Character background: Magic, while obviously in her DNA, hasn't been prominant in the last generation, and her grandparents never let on to their children that such a thing was even in the family. When Isabella discovered her powers at age 12, her parents were frightened by it and promptly disowned her. She lived with her grandmother on her dad's side for 5 years after that, until she could afford her own apartment in city.
i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart) <3

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Ilum looked at the man who had run into him. He looked horrible. Dirty and groggy he seemed on edge, even more so since he ran into him. Ilum motioned to leave, but the man caught his mechanical eye and drew his sword yelling monster. Ilum blocked it with his left arm that was coated in an alloy, "That's not very nice..." before he could finish though he started coughing blood."

"Looks like I'm not the only one having problems. You used to be part of the royal army right?"

"Sort of, why?"

"I want information now."

"Help me, then we'll talk. I've herd of you Orsonn, you despise the rain makers, I'll tell you something if you help me. Interested?"
I will always fight back, no matter what.




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~Kennedy~


I shook out my long hair, and began to work. I loved Simulations classes, and today's lesson was, by far, the best of the semester.

Our task was to remove a complex plate from the apparition's heart. Without cutting into the flesh. The challenge pleased me, and I swam in the glorious waves of triumph as my solution left the semi-tangible hologram's skin completely intact and his heart in perfect working condition.

"Miss Kennedy! What an accomplishment!" Proffessor Havenworth praised. He gave me a proud smile. "I fear you are too good for your own sake. Darling, you have an immense ammount of extra credit in this class. You've done beautifully." He smiled happily once again, and dismissed me.

I headed outside, relishing the freedom that the end of the semester gave me.
"Friendship is like peeing on yourself: everyone can see it, but only you get the warm feeling that it brings."
~Anonymous

Nulla dies sine linea. --Not a day without a line




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I hope its not to late to join, this looks interesting. Just tell me if it is and I will be on my way.

Name: Cassandra Carousel (Cassie for short)

Age: 15

Description of appearance: She has long dark red hair with thin black streaks throughout reaching just below her shoulders. Her eyes are really dark brown, so dark they are mistaken for black a lot. She wears black mostly, but anything in a dark colour works. Her usual outfit is a low sleeveless blood red top with a long black leather coat. She has long legs and likes to wear a mid-thigh black skirt with knee high high-heel boots to define them. She is very fit, skinny, and very praportional. Her height is about 5"5, and she has full lips.

Magical status (whether if he/she can invoke magic or not): Yes, but only weakly right now, such as being able to ignite a flame to start a fire or read someones mind for only a minute before collapsing.

Character background: At age 8 her parents were murdered as well as her brother. She had to grow up quite fast and trusts almost no one after being bullied all her life. She developed a drinking addiction at age 13 and uses alcohol to escape her problems. She also smokes, no matter what people tell her because in her mind, her life is just a waste of time. She has tried to kill herself multiple times and needs someone to talk to, trust, and someone to love her.

Personality: She is one of those tough girls who cares about others but doesn't show it. Being alone most of her life she believes that everyone only has to worry about themselves and that getting close to people just gets you into trouble. She's cold and very snappy if you make her mad. She also has anger issues. She also does anything for money...except prostitution, though people have tried that with her before only to end up in a hospital.

Weapon: She carries a pocket knife as well as a pistol. The knife may seem like nothing but with her...it can be very lethal.
Porcelain skin stained with tears,
Hands covering her face to hide from her fears.




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Charles Austin

– – –

The private investigator sprinted round the street corner and up along the other side of the school building. Stray sheets of newspaper scuttled crab-like around the pavement in front of him. Stepping lithely amongst the sheets, Charles Austin found the firm ground he needed to keep up his pace.

He raced against his own trap. If he wasn’t quick enough he wouldn’t get there in time to become the jaws of it. Charles, however, did not think of the “if”s. There was no doubt in his mind. All he needed was an extra pair of hands.

His prey was still inside the building where Charles had forced him to retreat, and there was only one door to escape from. That was where Charles planned to accost him, and it was also where Charles would face injury or death if he didn’t surprise his opponent.

“Watch it!”

Deep in thought, Charles failed to spot the teenager slumped on the kerb. Surprised, and shocked he’d not been paying attention, he lunged to the left and crunched his foot down on a glass bottle. It exploded, tiny fragments splitting outwards and whatever liquid it contained bleeding out onto the road. Before Charles could apologise the girl jumped to her feet and drew a knife on him.

“What a bloody stupid thing to do!” she said, her dark eyes burning. She scowled and thrust the knife towards Charles’ neck. When he didn’t flinch she tried again. All he did was stare at her, his own eyes analysing her body language and aura.

He smelt alcohol on her breath. She’d been drinking, and by the clothes she was wearing he deduced she’d been partying as well. Her choice of a deep red top, and black skirt and coat, gave her the air of something dangerous. Charles nodded. She was trying to look imposing, but people who truly had presence didn’t need to dress like that. What was she making up for then? Depression? Instability?

Warily, she lowered the knife and looked him right in the eyes. “What’re ya looking at me like that for?” she demanded.

Charles answered with a question of his own. “Name?”

“Cassie. Now what’re ya—”

“Short for?”

“Cassandra,” she replied with another scowl.

Charles nodded. “Cassandra, you’re exactly what I’m looking for tonight. I’ll pay you for your services, but I really need you to come with me right now.”

Without warning the girl had the knife at his throat again and a dangerous flame ignited in her mood. Involuntarily, Charles took a step back. She leapt upon the display of weakness and moved towards him again with an air of confidence.

“Don’ even think about it, mister,” she said, spitting out the words between gritted teeth. “I know men like you. Y’think you can get away with it ‘cos we’re young. Well you’re not havin’ any business wiv me!”

Charles blinked.

“How dare ya,” she continued. Now her anger was released it wouldn’t go away. “Exactly what I’m looking for tonight!” she mimicked. “D’ya say that to every girl, eh? You’re sick!”

In the silence that followed, he listened to the sound of her heavy breathing and watched her dark brown eyes try to burn holes in his. She was a strong person. That was evident.

“You’re mistaken,” Charles said finally, watching the girl visibly shrink with the statement. “I need help to catch a criminal. I’m in a hurry. I’ll pay for the services.”

Cassandra gulped and lowered the knife, her hand shaking slightly as she did so.

“Oh,” she said.

“Indeed.”

“I thought you were… you wanted to—”

Charles raised an eyebrow. It was the first facial expression she’d seen him make. “Don’t flatter yourself,” he cut in. “Now, Cassandra, are you going to help me or not?”

The girl looked away and fiddled with sheathing her knife. Satisfied it was safe she slid it back into a concealed pocket in her skirt. Inwardly, Charles was relieved. He glanced at his watch. There still might be enough time if they set off soon.

Cassandra bit her lip, looked up at the private investigator and made her decision.

– – –
Last edited by Charlie II on Wed Jun 25, 2008 11:26 am, edited 1 time in total.
I am thankful for laughter, except when milk comes out of my nose.
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((Echo Bryce))

Her papers rustled, one or two falling off the edge of her knee. Echo exhaled with irritation and bent over to pick up her maps that had dropped. Hurriedly she tucked the maps under the rest and shuffled them until she found the one she was looking for. The Blue Dove's street light flickered in protest to the gusts of wind. One of the Blue Dove's patrons stumbled out into the night. He drunkenly turned and wobbled. Grinning, he waved to Echo and promptly fell.

Echo looked disdainfully down at the drunkard for a moment. Her attention adverted back to the map. Reaching up to her ear she produced a charcoal pencil. She quickly looked around the street and put her pencil back onto the map. She started at the blank space next to Beerbalm Street. The pencil traced the shaped of the street she stood on, slowly curving until it met Black street and Maple. Glancing back and forth between the drawing and the real street Echo nodded. She rolled her maps up and reached behind her back to safely slide them into her cylindrical holder. Screwing the top on Echo wondered why she had never mapped this street.

A whimper broke the city sounds. Surprised Echo looked down at her dog. She'd totally forgotten about Boreas. Echo clicked her tongue to get his attention. Boreas raised his enormous head to look at her. Slowly the Irish wolfhound stood and shook himself out. Echo reached down to pet his coarse, black fur.

"C'mon Boreas, I'm done now. You want some sausage?"

Boreas's tail beat heavily down on the paved road. He gave a grin the seemed almost too human for a dog. Echo vigorously tussled his fur on his head.

"Alright then. Let's go see what Mama Jones has for us."




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Damien Marsh

Another night spent weaving through the streets of the city proper. Another night spent trying to see how this place could ever yield something that would benefit his family. Once again, Damien found himself lending his father's views greater authority than he would have in the outskirts. He called to mind the lack of technology out there, and the fact that people could be just as uncivilised. His eyes moved to one man sprawled in the gutter, and recalled that he had seen one just like him earlier, in the outskirts. The vices of man found root regardless of the level of technology.

Shadows danced at the edges of the streets, and Damien's hand dropped to the hilt of his rapier. He once again cursed his arrogance in entering this area without his pistol - it would have leveled the playing field far better than his sword would, if he was forced to resort to violence.

He checked his pocket watch, sighing. Once again he would have to cut his visit short - his father was expecting him to attend yet another social function. But one of these nights, Damien felt he would get the chance to gather some real information about this part of the city. The technology he looked into by day would benefit his family in some ways, once his father got past his own overwhelming pride, but what Damien was looking for by night was far more important. Contacts within the city's underworld were important to any self-respecting business. Protection rackets were one problem he'd have to deal with, but if he could begin manipulating the gangs, running his future merchant holdings would be just that much easier.

He had little time to return to the outskirts, but he had one more visit to make before the night ended. The building he found himself facing had a single door, it was here that the contacts he'd already secured told him he would find the man. But there was something wrong, something didn't feel right at all. The noble brushed his carefully embroidered waistcoat back, revealing the rapier at his side. Then, leaning against the wall, he waited for whatever what was going to happen to happen.
He had decided to live forever or die in the attempt. - Yossarian, Catch-22

Wide-eyed stupid.

If you're gonna rule the world, you've gotta get up early! - Joel S. Dickens




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Alyssa

The soft pitter patter of rain is barely worth a mention, for when is there a day that it does not rain inside these walls? The rain is not unusual. Rather, it is the reaction of the citizens that amuses me: people saunter by, dressed in ordinary clothes, the hues of which grow darker as the water settles on the fabric. There is not a rain coat or an umberella in sight and the people consider getting wet as an expected event. I admit that I neither wear a coat nor carry an umberella but am rather dressed in the usual attire of the day guard: black shoes, black pants, mid-blue shirt and a black belt complete with flashlight, two-way radio, pen, log book, handcuffs, guns and sword. However, I'm not the one getting wet.

My boots squelsh as I step through the puddles but the rest of me stays dry, thanks to the small portion of my mind that's directing the water around me. Some people are envious of the ability while others are merely intrigued. Others still are more concerned by my uniform and weapons as they flitt in and out of sight and I decide which ones should be followed and which aren't worth my time or the city's expenses.

One man in particular has caught my eye and it is he who I am following, moving casually through the streets as any day guard has the right to do. Just one more hour and then it's no longer my problem. One more hour and I can radio it in to the night guard and go to bed but for the moment, he's my concern. He's dressed in a long, dark coat and a hat of a similar shade of 'shadow' which has made following him difficult at times and though the clothes ooze with the impression of 'private investigator' I've known criminals who use a similar disguise.

He's talking to a young woman, a girl I know a bit about: Cassandra. She's spent the odd night in my cell for various reasons, most recently a case of being drunk and disorderly and before that attempted suicide. She's got quite a record for a girl of fifteen and for a moment, I wonder if I'll have to add 'actual bodily harm' to the list but the knife does no harm and is returned to her pocket. I'd like to know what they're discussing but I have no cause to arrest either of them and no desire to frighten them away. I've no desire to find a reason to arrest them if I'm honest but the hour hasn't ticked by yet and I'm intrigued.
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Isabella

I lay upon the roof of one of the many small buildings of the country. I lived on the outskirts of town, and often traveled between the modernized city and the country, which seemed to be stuck in the past.

I prefered it here, where I could see the stars at night.

Two people below me are talking. The girl sounds frightened, or angry, talking loudly.

Silently, I roll to where I can see them, and perch on my toes, prepared to move if necessary.

The girl has a knife, but she's putting it away. The man is talking to her, obviously in a hurry. I watch, determined to keep an eye on these two.
i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart) <3

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There are some things you can't share without ending up liking each other, and knocking out a twelve-foot mountain troll is one of them.
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