The Dark Tower

Name: Henry Gallagher

Age: 20

Gender: Male

Personality: At a first glance, Henry strikes most people as stuck up and full of himself, and he usually does little to change that first impression. He often jokes around as a way of dealing with things. When it comes to the crunch, though, the facade drops away and he shows himself to be much more than he makes himself out to be. Rather than arrogant and immature, Henry is responsible and has a clear head under pressure. One of his close friends had described him as "Two-faced in the wrong way."

Appearance: http://lenap.deviantart.com/art/guy-509 ... 9&offset=3

History: Up until his death, Henry's life was far from tragic. He was born into a wealthy family, raised with strong Christian values, and sent to an all-boys private school. Here, of course, he developed his cocky attitude. While initially, this was just a joke amongst himself and close friends, it quickly became a mask he was forced to wear around school at all times. It was only at parties and such, when everyone else was too blinded by alcohol to realise, that he was allowed to be himself. It was on the edges of one such party that everything went wrong for Henry. Seeing a girl who was not just obviously drunk, but obviously drugged being dragged by a pair of boys off towards their car, Henry decided that there had to be somehong wrong. He didn't over there intending to start a fight, but as hereached the two boys, one of them panicked. Less than a second later, he'd stuck a switchblade into Henry, puncturing his lung. Henry never found out what happened to the the girl, though. He was rapidly losing conciousness when he heard the car squealing away into the night. The party, though, went on for another half a hour without anyone looking for Henry, and when they found him, he was too far gone for a doctor to help him. Now in Midland, he is likely to become a gunslinger (yes, I checked it out with Damar).

Likes/Dislikes: Music, comedy, a little peace and quiet from time to time, but also the company of other people/Anyone with a pathological need to be miserable and negative, seafood.

Other: Up for love.

also, lets nt do any more magicians unless youve called one. Lets get some diversity

Light_Devil I"ll be your wyrm! Before I post my profile are they humans that turn into a
weapon or are they like a giant monster thing?
Yeah I'm retarded and I need all of this explained first.

the Warders are people who can turn at will into the Wyrms that the Riders ride. Only some riders have warders, other ride real Wyrms (not people)

Umm I'd like to reserve a spot, I wanted to be a stranger, but I'm not quite sure if there all filled. Could someone tell me.

we only have four strangers. go ahead.

Name: Xadrian

Age: Twenty Eight

Gender: Male

Personality: Very quiet, serious man with a gentle, tempered nature. Patient, steady, laid back and calm. He is a pretty neutral person, doing what he does because he wants to, not for any other real reason. Fiercely loyal to those who manage to acquire his friendship, but doesn't need other people around. He's usually just as content to be alone as he is to be in a group. And if he is with others, he tends to stay a bit distanced from them. Confident but shy at the same time, he's more then a little socially awkward.

Appearance: Tall, lithe, lightly muscled, dark skinned. Sports a plethora of scars. Thick, wine-red hair falling well past his waist, usually kept in a braid. Gray eyes, one of which is blind. (The left.) Long fingered 'artists' hands, but very calloused. Like most of his kind, he sports both swords and guns- two of each, to be precise. He keeps one sword strapped to his back and the other under his coat; both guns are always hidden on his person, never in view unless he's using one or both.

History: (Midlander)

Never had much in the way of home or family; grew up on the streets and was taken in by a gang of other children. Become their 'leader' by the time he turned fourteen, and quickly proved that he was a better-then-average fighter. Was fiercely protective of his little group, more a big brother then a gang leader, but he was only one child, and could not protect them forever. The group fell apart eventually, and not long after he was picked up by a strange man who saw what Xadrian was destined to become. The man trained him to become a skilled fighter in every way one can be, and when he finally began to go through the process of becoming a gunslinger, the man stayed with and helped him. That man was very old by the time the process was complete, though, and died only months later, leaving him alone.


Likes/Dislikes:

Dislikes: Loud people, skittish people, indecisiveness, those who think they're top dog when they're not, whiny women, talking, nosiness, disrespect, spicy foods, being questioned, not being questioned, bullies.

Likes: Kids, animals, strong women, intelligence, freedom, being alone, not being alone, older people, teaching, traveling, reading, drawing, fighting, training, outdoors, cold weather, rainy weather.

(Um yeah please excuse my relatedness from earlier)

Name: Li (Lie)

Age: 19

Gender: female

Personality: kind of mean if she doesn't know you, she is very loyal to those she trust. She is very calm and relax when she is around Arrow. She hates it when he starts paying more attention to other things than her. And she has a tendency to get skittish around water.

Appearance: (Normally it's her wrym form unless she has to be human)

(She can talk in both forms)

wrym form: It looks like a giant wolf (fur is black that tints blue in the light. Literally seems like a moving shadow) with long black wings (black mixed with violet, and a hint of teal) and blades extending from it's snout, and the back of all four foreleg's (there a dark violet color that is full of venom) with ice blue eyes that seems to glow.

human form: She has long black hair that tints blue in the sunlight, and her eyes are more of a sea blue color in human form. She has very pale skin that makes her seem like a ghost. And she is very short and skinny.

History: In her life before she was human, her mom died during child birth. And her father was was brutally murdered by a robber. She was sent to live with her aunt and uncle who treated her good. She went swimming one evening in a lake when it was struck by lighting. (I thought they would bond better if they died the same way). She soon meet Arrow and found it was always interesting being around him.

Likes: Arrow, apples, darkness, and sunrises (She sees it as the start of a life)

Dislikes: when people she loves get hurt, water (can't swim and can't fly right when her wings are wet), being alone, thunder, sunsets (She sees it as the end of a life)

Other: up for love (if that's possible)

Sweet, yeah, I loved you be his wyrm! But beware his luck is . . . awful. ^^

I guess we can start. Fist posts should be about waking up after dying if you are a stranger, and well take it from there.

Sunlight filled his vision as Alack opened his eyes. He felt the softness of grass on the back of his head, sitting up groggily he looked around. He was sitting in a lush, green meadow. Where the heck am I he thought warily. He felt a wave of shock and as memories flooded his head. The car hitting him with such a force he was blown four feet away. His final thought as he passed into the darkness, I'm dead .

But how could this be possible. One minute he is dead in the street of New York, the next he is lying in a strange meadow. He stood up and began to search for some sign of life. Then he saw it. A thin black curl of smoke rising from a bordering forest.

He began to walk towards it, hoping for a explanation.

…
He was standing outside a small yard, a cottage stood in the middle. The smoke he had seen was spiraling towards the sky from a small chimney. He paced into the yard, his eyes searching for any sign of life.

He reached the door and knocked quietly.

"What is it" a raspy old voice sounded from within. The door began to swing slowly open to revel an old man in strange clothes standing there. He shook his head looking disappointed,

"Here we go again"

Sunlight filled his vision as Alack opened his eyes. He felt the softness of grass on the back of his head, sitting up groggily he looked around. He was sitting in a lush, green meadow. Where the heck am I he thought warily. He felt a wave of shock and as memories flooded his head. The car hitting him with such a force he was blown four feet away. His final thought as he passed into the darkness, I'm dead .

But how could this be possible. One minute he is dead in the street of New York, the next he is lying in a strange meadow. He stood up and began to search for some sign of life. Then he saw it. A thin black curl of smoke rising from a bordering forest.

He began to walk towards it, hoping for a explanation.

…
He was standing outside a small yard, a cottage stood in the middle. The smoke he had seen was spiraling towards the sky from a small chimney. He paced into the yard, his eyes searching for any sign of life.

He reached the door and knocked quietly.

"What is it" a raspy old voice sounded from within. The door began to swing slowly open to revel an old man in strange clothes standing there. He shook his head looking disappointed,

"Here we go again"

Azrael Ringo


I knew it, I had known it . . . I should've known it at least, but at least now it was over and done with. I turned away from the News Agency with shoulders drooped. What luck. I had had the winning ticket, but the machine ate it up.

A grin found itself onto my face, at least I wasn't dead yet. That was always a plus. The ad on TV for Kellog's Plus suddenly popped into mind and I played over it as I subconsciouly got into the car and turned on the ignition.

A song blarred full on from the radio and I found myself singing along.

"It's not fair.
And i think your really mean,
I think your really mean,
I think your really mean.

Oh your supposed to care,
But you never make me scream,
You never make me scream,

Oh it's not fair,
And it's really not ok,
It's really not ok,
It's really not ok,

Oh your supposed to care,
But all you do is take, yea all you do is take."

Laughter over the meaning of the song took over me and I was all but falling around in tears of happiness. Then it snapped. Snapped, my vision - my vision slivered into two halves and split. This didn't take me by surprise, but it did however make me squint, as the road and surrounding were pretty much all the same colour.

My usual illness was playing up again, momentary colour blindness. I raised an eyebrow at the road, "Now, the road is meant to have reflective things, right?"

I realised then and there that talking to oneself is the first sign of insanity, but I continued none the less, "Okay, well, it doesn't help that they've all been run over, and you can't see them . . ."

The road disappeared for a second as I blinked hoping to regain my bearings, well, those bearings apparently like being where they were as they didn't come back.

"This is great, my illness steps in just when the sun goes down and my lights stop working."

I slammed my foot onto the brakes, "Oh, isn't this dandy, it seems like brakes have stopped working as well."

Knowing that time was running out and my acceleration was going up I twisted the steering wheel around in a half loop. Unfortuantely it had quite the opposite effect of what I was hoping for. Instead of just flipping onto the side, it did a total 180 and landed up side down.

My world turned slightly strange for a while there. It was almost as if this pleasant coldness was consuming me, as if I were being pulled in by some unseen force. And then my colour came back.

Well, that explained it. I had drove into a lake. I reached my hand down to the seat belt and pushed the button. Ahh, well that wasn't a surprise - it was jammed. I took one look out the window as the water gushed in to drown me and I smiled.

At least I hadn't been mauled by animals. The water rose fast and was quickly around my chin in a heart beat. I cracked my bones and yawned. This experience was a little more dull than the rest of my life had been.

And that was when I noticed the storm brewing up above. Well, that was a nice sight for a dying person to last see. The anger of mother nature. Apparently mother nature had other plans than me just seeing her, she wanted me to feel her anger.

A lightning bolt zigzagged through the sky cutting it like butter. And wouldn't you know it, out of all the trees and poles and ground surrounding me, it targetted the small attenae on my car used for radio.

Just my luck, eh?

Needless to say it hurt, for about, oh, the first two seconds. an agonising feeling dying from electricity is. Actually so horrendous was it, that I found myself feeling empathetic, empathetic mind you, not sympathetic, empathetic, for those poor people who had to die from the electric chair.

The best thing about dying, which I'm sure most peopel don't even want to think about, is that it's all over. My un-luck was forever gone. That was the only thing which gave me courage enough to keep that smile on my face as that torrid of pain assualted me.

Blackness claimed me and I had never felt so good.

It seems almost pointless to add, that when I woke up, I was not very happy. No, not very happy at all. First thing that came to mind when I sat up in a field of dazzling, colourful flowers was, "Heaven really doe exist?"

I'm not religious and I don't believe in god, so if there was a heaven and hell, I was more or less expecting the flames and horns and torture for eternity. Thank god for that (Pun intended.)

As I gazed around I noticed an odd shanty sitting a walking distance away from me. So, all other reason and options running away from me like I was some sort of screaming banshee I headed over there.

Luckily I was intercepted by a giant wolf. Sarcasm is the lowest form of wit. That's probably why it matches me so much. Also, I think if there was God, he hated me. Un-luck has a reason and usually it's quite a good one.

I have this theory that God is just angry at all the human race and he randomly chooses one to mock and laughs at that person when he's feeling low. And that person is me. Well, that would be true if I believed in God.

But as the huge wolf eyed me with its glowing eyes blue eyes I noticed something. Yeah. . . I could accept that wolves could be this big, sure. And that they could be the colour of black bordering on blue. But what I really didn't get was the two enormous wings sprouting from it's back.

"Who are you?" it asked me.

And that's when I realised it. I was going insane. That was the most obvious choice, but as the wolf approached my hackles raised and the blades coming out of the back of its legs looking very violet and poisonous I was most probably sure that this wasn't a hallucination.

It growled.

"Nice doggy." I gestured towards it hands spread out. It growled louder.

"Who are you?" once again it spoke.

I decided then and there to disgard my old name and take on something which suited me better. This almost seemed like a new life. and my un-luck could possibly be gone.

"Arrow. Arrow, at your service." I bowed low.

And guess what?

No, the wolf didn't maul me. I tripped over the only root in the whole goddamned feild and feel face flat into a pile of what appeared to be manure. Oh, well, one can't blame one for trying. My un-luck was back.

I glanced up at the wolf now looming above me, "And you are?"

"Lie." it replied.

'I beg your pardon, I am not lying!" I mean seriously how could she have truthfully guessed that? I sat up and folded my legs, mouth crumpled into an angry pout and eyes narrowed.

The wolf made a guttural sound almost like . . . chuckling. Was it laughing at me? A heat rose in my cheeks and I turned away. Something hit my shoulder.

I glanced at it. It was a huge black paw. The wolf smiled, "My name is Li.'

Oh.

Henry

When he opened his eyes, the sun was high in the sky. Great. He thought, I get stabbed, black out, and when I wake up, I'm not even in a goddamned hospital. Henry's fingers brushed down over his shirt, tugging a little at the small rip in it where the knife had passed through.

He frowned, this was definitely not right. Where the was supposed to be a nasty puncture, there was nothing. Just smooth skin. He lay there for another few moments, running through every possibility in his mind. No cut, or scar, or anything. But there is the tear. I'm not in a hospital. The grass is a lot longer than it was last night.

Henry sat up, looking about himself. He ran a hand through his messy hair, closing his eyes for a long moment as he tried to think of a possibility other than death. But nothing came. "Alright." He said to himself, "Well, at least it looks like I got heaven."

There was a dry chuckle from nearby, and Henry turned to see a man emerging from the trees astride a powerful looking horse. He was dressed in, as far as Henry could see, a cowboy costume. A pair of large, heavy-looking pistols hung from his waist, joined to two ammunition belts.

The strange man tipped his hat to Henry, "Morning, sai." He looked Henry up and down, "You're not from Midland, are you?"

Henry shook his head slowly, not knowing what to think of him, "No, I'm not." He said, "In fact, I'm pretty sure I'm not even alive right now."

The cowboy leaned forward in his saddle and squinted at Henry, then sat back, a wan smile on his face, "Nope. You are, sure as I am. Just not in your world any more. You're probably best coming with me, then. Strangers like you often frighten Midlanders, and that's not the best idea in these times."

He gave a whistle, and a second horse came trotting out of the forest, "You ride, lad?" Henry shook his head, and the man simply shrugged, "Don't matter, you'll pick it up soon enough, and Sable's a pretty gentle girl."

Henry spent a few moments struggling into the saddle, then finally looked at the guy,"Where are we?"

His companion cracked a smile, "Midland, 'course. I'll try and explain a few things to you while we head for the nearest town, but I'm not sure if I'll be much use. Never met a stranger before. My name, by the way, is Agravaine. I would know yours as well, sai."

"Henry." He replied, realising his name probably seemed as strange to Agravaine as the cowboy's did to him.

Tahakiel -

There didn't seem to be anything out of the ordinary for the first ten minutes. I felt a little surge of power, unnatural power, and then everything went normal. It wasn't that large, probably just enough for a basic spell. It probably wouldn't even be enough to keep a fire going for half an hour. But, it was strange. None of the type of magic that seemed common around the area. Maybe a foreigner, but nobody wanted to travel to the Midlands anymore. Ever since it started crumbling, only those with no other options remained. Like myself.

But, ten minutes later, something started picking up. A snake had come over to me from the western side, speaking of strangers not from anywhere I had heard of. Considering the Midlands were the only places I've heard of, it wasn't that surprising. Geography never did seem important to me.

"Has this ever happened before?" I asked the snake, a small tune playing on my flute. It was the first one that my father had taught me. The snake seemed to shake its head.

"Not that I know of," he replied. I frowned and stood up.

"Thank you, then." I paused for a while, still playing. Hopefully, none of the less friendly creatures would notice the music, not with the waterfall next to me. "I think I'll go investigate. Thank you."

"You should be wary, human." And the snake was gone.

Brushing myself off, I looked west. Well, stranger things have happened, I supposed. Nothing could ever be considered out of the ordinary in the Midlands, especially considering the current state of the continent. West it was. And I set off.