ZOMBIE FORUMS

It's a stinking, shambling corpse grotesquely parodying life.
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 Post subject: Kitsune's Character and backstory for RT2: Catalyst
PostPosted: Wed Aug 20, 2003 2:58 pm 
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Joined: Mon Aug 26, 2002 5:00 pm
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Location: Allentown, PA
Yumiko Maisa

Sex: Female

Age: 16

Talent: Exploding Knives/Matter Manipulation—Three-Stage Talent (see Alter)

Eyes: Dark blue, almost black.

Hair: Gold with dyed black streaks in her bangs.

Height: Fairly small for a sixteen-year old.

Weight: She’s not anorexic, but she’s a little thinner than she should be.

Appearance: Usually wears jeans that flare at the bottom and have floral patterns on the sides. Long-sleeved green top with frilled torso section. Wears sheepskin boots.

Personality: Cheerful, kind, somewhat mischievous when left alone too long. Talks a lot. Very extroverted. Avoids discussions about her parents.

Description: Yumiko is a neurotic. She hears voices accusing her of killing her parents (which she actually did do, she just doesn’t remember it). These voices also tell her to do certain actions and eventually torment her enough that she gives in. She likes to drink orange soda, because it calms her down and quiets the voices too. She talks almost too much to drown out the voices she hears shouting inside her skull. When she’s especially tense, she chews on her hair. She likes when she’s using her Talent, because the voices don’t bother her so much.

Talent Description:
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Stage 1—Yumiko can summon a knife from anywhere, but it must be a knife. NO other form of matter can be used. When she throws the knife, it will explode on contact with anything. Her appearance does not change from her normal appearance. Yumiko can only throw one knife from her left hand. She can still hear the voices in this stage.

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Stage 2—Yumiko no longer is constrained to knives, she can fashion any material into a knife-like object and use it against her opponent. The ‘hot knives’ will explode on contact. Her left arm becomes covered in strange chitinous grey-yellow-silver armor. A grey and yellow rectangular tube runs down the middle of the forearm, ending in between the middle and ring fingers. Out of this tube protrudes a hot knife—a knife-like object sharp enough to embed itself far enough in to do some nasty damage when it explodes after two seconds. Yumiko fires the hot knives out of this strange launcher. The hand is partially immobilized due to the knife-thrower along the forearm. At the top of the shoulder, four small flechette-like spikes jut from the connecting joint. The armor continues slightly under Yumiko’s clothing across the upper left half of her torso. Yumiko can only fire one hot knife from her left hand. The voices are dulled to a whisper at this stage.

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Stage 3—Only reached in the peak of anger or stress. Yumiko’s entire upper half and arms are covered in grey-yellow-silver armor. Her left arm remains almost the same, but with the addition of a knife-throwing tube going in the opposite direction along the upper arm. The right arm is an exact duplicate of the left, except at the shoulder joint, where instead of four small flechettes, two winglike objects stick up into the air. Her chest is covered with interlocking bits of armor. Across the armor at certain places are vents for compressed air to release after Yumiko fires a hot knife. Along the shoulder blades lie two spiked plates. Yumiko’s neck is covered in the chitinous armor, and from underneath her right eye extends a piece of grey armor that connects to a chin-guard. In this stage Yumiko can fire two knives from either arm. In this stage, Yumiko no longer hears the voices.

Past History: Yumiko had an idyllic childhood, with two very caring, loving parents. After the incidents inscribed in Road Trip 1: Threads of Hate, Yumiko’s father’s company began losing business. Her parents managed to raise her in some way or another until she was ten, when she was helping her mother wash dishes and the knives blew up in her mother’s face. Her father, ever since the fracture of reality by Fold an unstable man, blamed her for the incident and assaulted her. For a brief moment her Talent manifested in its second stage and she killed her father in self-defense. The trauma flashburned her mind and she forgot the incident happened. The experience also triggered a latent neurotic problem she had, and she started hearing voices. She was overwhelmed, and fled. She heard someone talking about the Hateful Forest, a haven for parahumans. She used what money her parents had and booked a ticket for a one-way plane ride to Australia.
With no parents, she was taken in by other Alter users, taught basic self-defense and learned some impressive tricks she could do with her Alter. The group she fell in with was convinced they were being held prisoner in the Hateful Forest, and they hatched a plan to escape using a helicopter from one of the military bases nearby. During the attack, the military called in a Talent squad and Yumiko’s friends were brutally killed. Yumiko herself managed to survive, hidden in a storage crate—oldest trick in the book, but none of the soldiers bothered to look for her. She was unintentionally smuggled out of the Hateful Forest, and escaped into Australia with no money, no metro card, and no passport, nothing that she would need to survive. But somehow she did, on the kindness of strangers and dumb luck. She was thirteen. By doing certain favors for people, she managed to get a hold of a passport. The voices never forgave her for her actions. But at least now she had proof of citizenship in Australia.
At the age of fourteen, she was sick of Australia and worried she might have blown her cover. She knew she’d never have enough to afford a real airplane ticket, so she stowed away in the baggage section of the airplane and barely missed being caught. She found herself in America. Excited and filled with wonderment—like most first-time immigrants to America—she began to explore the country, hitching rides from place to place, slowly making her way from Los Angeles, California to Direst, Ohio. In Direst, she found an abandoned school cafeteria where she decided to make her home for a time.
There she ran into a man named Michael as he was traveling through town to visit a friend of his. They didn’t really see eye to eye on much, possibly because of Michael being a man of God and Yumiko being a vocal atheist, but they managed to get along well enough to call each other friends. The voices wanted Yumiko to kill Michael, but around this time Yumiko discovered orange soda, so their words didn’t hold the same weight as before. Yumiko managed to get a job at a McDonald’s flipping burgers, and she felt life was looking up a bit.
The two of them kept in touch, meeting often because Michael’s friend MiaoMing wanted some company, and after spending time with his friend Michael would contact Yumiko just to see how she was doing.
When Road Trip 2: Catalyst begins, Yumiko will have just recently turned sixteen.
___________________________________________________

Now, since that seems so dry, and clinical, but not quite, and because I want to see if my writing really does justice to her . . . Prepare for an intro like none other ever attempted. And I mean that. No one's ever been crazy enough to write a whole story up for their character as an intro and then post it on the forums.
____________________________________________________

Yumiko shoved her hands in her pockets and watched her breath freeze in the winter air. She looked about her, tossing her gold-and-black hair out of her cherubic face. She blinked.

Around Yumiko, the town of Direst, Ohio, fought the darkness of winter night with an explosion of Christmassy colors. A gaudy Christmas tree sat in the center of town, huge and green. Bright red lights strewn across the branches winked their neon eyes at Yumiko and the few pedestrians keeping her company on the lonely streets.

Yumiko exhaled a long breath. She looked beyond the Christmas tree to the giant electric clock hanging from the top of Direst’s main mall.
“3:45,” Yumiko said. “I must be insane.” She laughed, her shoulders shrugging. A gentle voice crept into the back of her brain, saying in an accusatory voice that, in fact, Yumiko was insane. “Shut up,” Yumiko said.

A man in tattered clothes sitting down on a doorstep, stared at her for a moment. Yumiko smiled at him. She turned away from him, looking uncomfortable. She hadn’t meant to say that. Yumiko began walking away, feeling the man’s eyes boring into her backside. Another voice dredged itself out of the swamps of her brain, his gruff tones shouting at her for the mistake of responding.
“I know,” she whispered. “Stop shouting. It’s two days till Christmas, I’m trying to figure out what to get Michael.” The gruff voice was joined by the quiet voice from before. Yumiko shook her head and kept walking. She shoved her hands further into her pockets. Her long-sleeved, sea-green, frilled shirt offered little protection against the cold air. She rushed across the square till she passed the Christmas tree. She sighed in relief. She was safe. Now that she was out of the man’s sight, the voices receded back into the mists of memory.

Yumiko sat down on the cold metal bench next to the Christmas tree. She rested her head against it, eyes closing. “I wish . . . I were ten again,” she said. Then her eyes shut, and a smile covered her face.


“Mommy!” she said. “Can I help with the dishes?” Her ten-year-old face was bright with happiness.

“Certainly, Yumi-chan,” her mother said. “Here, let me bring this chair over so you can see what you’re washing.” Yumiko’s mother pulled the chair up to the sink, wood scraping against linoleum tile. Yumiko clambered up onto the cushioned chair, smiling from ear to ear.

“What can I do?” she said. Her dark blue, almost black eyes were brimming with excitement.
“Well,” her mother said, “you can wash the butter knife, okay?” She handed the piece of silverware to Yumiko, who grabbed a washrag and began enthusiastically scrubbing.

“Okay,” Yumiko said.

A few moments later, Yumiko handed the knife back to her mother. Her mother smiled, holding it up close to her face to make a show out of inspecting it to see how Yumiko had done. As she held it up to her face, the knife exploded.

Red liquid sprayed all over the dishes.


Yumiko woke up, gasping for air as her lungs contracted. She clutched at her chest. She sat there on the cold metal bench, shivering under the Christmas tree. “What a nightmare,” Yumiko said, voice husky. The gruff voice clawed its way to consciousness and shouted that ‘that was no nightmare.’ Yumiko touched her forehead. “Liar,” she said. “Talents don’t activate before puberty.” A gentle, prodding voice pointed out that ‘puberty starts early for some people.’ The gruff voice added that ‘Talents usually don’t activate before puberty.’ Yumiko shook her head, mouth turning downwards in a snarl. She looked around the square, crossing her legs and resting her arms on them.

The mall’s outside lights were blindingly bright, forcing Yumiko to squint. She put her hand up to cover her eyes. Was the mall open at practically four in the morning? She stood up.

She stumbled, the gruff voice screaming an obscenity in her ear. She waited a moment for her head to stop ringing, then started walking towards the mall. As she crossed the square, she noticed the displays of festive winter jackets in dark reds and steel blues in the clothing store to her right. ‘Don’t even dare,’ the gentle voice warned. Yumiko kept walking. The voice whispered warnings until she entered the mall.

The first thing Yumiko noticed was that the lighting inside the mall was more low-key compared to outside. The gruff voice began softly grumbling. Many of the shops had closed long ago, and the metal curtain in front had been pulled down and locked. Some of the shops were still open, though. A few people were hanging around outside the shops, some still buying a few things. Yumiko ignored them except for a few brief glances. The gruff voice began shouting.

Her reason for entering the mall glinted out of the corner of her eye and she almost passed by it. Yumiko turned to look at the vending machine, eyes scanning the list of sodas carried. The shouting voice became a torrent of obscenities, invectives, and curses. Yumiko found the soda she wanted. She reached into her pocket and pulled out a dollar bill. She was startled to realize her hand was shaking. Yumiko winced. “Shut up,” she said in a hoarse whisper. She tremblingly placed the dollar bill in the slot. The vending machine hummed, accepting the paper money. Yumiko reached her finger out, pushed the soda she wanted. The machine hummed for a second, then with a clunk, a can of Sunkist orange soda rolled into the depression at its base. The voice was yelling so loud she could barely see, much less think. Yumiko rapidly grabbed it up and out of the machine and popped the lid. She gulped down the orange liquid, relishing the burn as it passed down her throat. She sighed. The voice’s shouting fell to a whisper. Yumiko grinned. “That’s better,” she said.

She walked out of the mall, contentedly sipping at her soda, not wasting a drop.


Blam blam blam. Yumiko rolled to the side, hiding behind an oil drum. Not the safest position, especially in the midst of a firefight, but it offered protection for the moment. Her chest heaved up and down. With fear-filled eyes she turned to look across the airfield at her friends, who had taken cover behind a slate gray Humvee. Jonathon, Uther, Lucas. They’d taken her in when her parents died.

Jonathon stared at his hands, gritting his teeth. Yumiko turned away. The voices in her mind screamed for her to look. Yumiko swung her head to watch. Jonathon looked around the Humvee, his mouth a grim line. As Yumiko stared, he pushed off the ground, sprinting out into the open airfield. As his arms left the concrete, they changed into long gray tubes. Jonathon swung them around to face the government troops. He shouted. The ends of the tubes exploded, and steam shot out of Jonathon’s shoulders. Huge craters appeared in the airfield, and some of the soldiers flew into the air, shirts reddening. They landed with a disgusting thud.

The military was quick to respond, bullets tearing through Jonathon’s body like it was so much tissue paper. Yumiko turned away as the corpse fell to the ground, blood pooling on the gray concrete.


Yumiko shook her head. The voices had calmed, but they still occasionally tormented her with images from the past. She reluctantly took the last drink of her orange soda and tossed it in a trashcan. Yumiko looked around. Corner of Hampden and Dunkirk. She was almost home. She breathed in the cold winter air. “What’s past is past, what’s done is done,” she said. “The only way to live life is to live in the present.” She chuckled and leaned against the brick wall of the apartment building. Her hands played against the ridges. “Funny. Jonathon said that about my parents, and now I’m saying that about him. Life’s like that, isn’t it?”

Yumiko stood against the building, watching people pass by as the night’s second shifts from Direst’s businesses left to go home and sleep. She reached up to brush her black-and-gold bangs out of her eyes. Her mouth turned slightly upwards. Yumiko looked down and kicked at a little pebble on the sidewalk. Then she pulled herself off the brick wall and began walking again, towards the north side of town.

Yumiko shivered, rubbing her hands together. She tried to wrap her sea-green, long-sleeved shirt around herself further, but all she succeeded in doing was stretching the fabric across her skin. Her boots connected thickly with the concrete beneath them. She looked around. A man was sleeping on a doorstep. A man and a scantily clad woman against a building were talking quietly. The woman smiled, took a drag on her cigarette. The man snaked his hand around her pleather-covered butt. Yumiko looked away, disgusted.

The gentle voice crept out from its hiding place to say that Yumiko had often wished to be in that woman’s position. Yumiko frowned. “That’s not the same thing.” The gentle voice wished to know ‘what was different.’ “I want love. She’s after sex. And she’s getting paid.” Yumiko turned back for a moment, saw the man place a wad of bills down the woman’s halter-top. “See?” The voice began screaming that ‘the only way Yumiko could ever get love is by buying it.’ Yumiko’s face was blank. “That’s not true,” she said. “You don’t know that.” The voice laughed darkly.

“Someone you’re talking to, miss?” came a voice from behind her. Yumiko straightened up. She bit her lip, then turned around. A man in a blue uniform stood there, an affable expression on his face. The nameplate attached to his shirt pocket read Jensen.

“Just myself, Officer?” Yumiko said. She smiled at him. Inside, the gruff voice and the gentle voice started screaming. ‘She had no identification as a citizen of this country. If Yumiko got caught, she would likely be deported—or worse,’ the voices shrieked.

Jensen snorted. “Trying to be funny?” he said. He shook his head. “You kids never change.” Yumiko looked beyond Jensen, to the police car she somehow missed. The gruff voice didn’t hesitate to point out her mistake. Jensen grinned. “You know there’s a curfew for minors in Direst. It starts at eleven o’clock. I’d say you’re in violation,” he said.

Yumiko looked at Jensen steadily. “Would it help if I told you I can’t sleep?” she said, smiling. Her eyes didn’t quite meet his. The voices would have overpowered her composure if she had.

Jensen laughed. “No, it wouldn’t help,” he said. “A violation is a violation.” He reached up to tip his hat. “Now, if you’ll kindly—”

Yumiko ducked and pushed past Jensen. The policeman huffed, stumbling to the side. Yumiko looked back briefly, then ran as fast as she could till she got around two street corners. She ducked between two buildings and leaned against the alley wall to catch her breath. The voices shouted at her to keep moving. Jensen would probably try to follow her, after her stupid stunt. Yumiko clutched at the hard clay behind her, clenching her teeth. The bricks poked at her skin through the thin sea-green fabric of her shirt. Her gold-and-black bangs fell about her face, and she pushed them out of her eyes again. Yumiko looked up into the night sky. The lights of Direst drowned out any stars, leaving only pitch-black darkness to greet her gaze.

Yumiko pushed off the wall and began running home.


It was a hot, breezy day in the middle of July. Yumiko pulled the lid off the trashcan to inspect its contents. Today was the day the restaurant dumped its garbage out here. There was always something in the cans she could eat. Oftentimes there were whole pieces of lettuce still in their plastic wrapping.

The voices mocked her for eating out of trashcans. ‘Had she really sunk so low?’ Yumiko grinned. “Life wasn’t much better back home,” she said. The voices noted that ‘she was at least in a gang that was able to get food through force if necessary.’ Yumiko pulled a pack of four shrink-wrapped precooked hamburgers out of the trashcan and looked it over thoughtfully. “If I tried, they’d lock me up for unlawful use of Talent,” she said. The voices hissed that ‘rules never bothered her before.’ “Rules don’t last around the Hateful Forest. Too many Talents walking around, and not enough mundanes.”

Yumiko put the burgers to the side with a few oranges and a banana. She looked out of the alley behind the restaurant for a moment. There was a man who seemed to be watching her. He had short graying hair and his face was slightly wrinkled from smoking. He leaned against a long staff, smiling slightly. The man was casually dressed, in jeans and a rumpled, buttoned-up, collared shirt. Yumiko locked eyes with him for a moment. The man motioned at her.

“Oh, don’t stop for my sake,” he said. “I’m just enjoying myself.” Yumiko raised an eyebrow at him, mouth quirking, and the man laughed. “Oh, I’m no pervert, if that’s what you’re thinking,” he said. “It’s just that I was trying to remember how I used to do that at your age.”

Yumiko picked up the burgers and the food that she’d found in the other trashcans and turned to look at the man. “I’m only thirteen,” she said.

The man laughed. “I wasn’t any older than that when I had to eat from trashcans to survive.” He stood up straight. He smiled at her, and held his hand out. The voices blurted out warnings.

“What do you want?” Yumiko said. Her eyes narrowed. She wiped her gold bangs out of her face.

“Just come with me,” the man said. “I’m not going to do anything to you, I promise. I’m not that sort of man who would take advantage of a girl your age.” He shook his head, looking at the food still in her hand. “You can put that garbage down now.”

Yumiko looked at her next meal and then up at the man. “I’ve got to eat this stuff. Where am I going to put it?” she said. The voices were murmuring questions about the man’s honesty.

“Somewhere so you don’t have to eat it,” the man said. His mouth drew downwards. “I know how horrible that stuff can be. Come with me, we’re going to get you some real food.”

Yumiko stared at him. She tried to seem distrustful, partly for the voices and partly for herself. Her stomach rumbled. She looked at the man and laughed nervously. “I guess. Not like I really have anywhere else to go.” She put the food carefully behind a trashcan where no one else would find it, and walked out to the elderly man.

The man smiled. “Nice to meet you,” he said. “My name’s Michael.” She shook his hand.


Yumiko slowed to a walk, leisurely passing by the baseball and track fields. She brushed her gold-and-black bangs out of her face. Up ahead, she could see the silhouette of McCorrin High School. She reflected that times had changed. When Yumiko first smuggled herself to the States, she had nothing. She met Michael, and thanks to his advice and help, she had a job, even if it was only flipping burgers at a nearby McDonald’s. She owed him. The voices pointed out ‘she still didn’t have a present for the elderly man.’ “I know, I’ll get one tomorrow,” she said.

McCorrin High School loomed over Yumiko. It was an imposing rectangle of brick, concrete, and glass, with two huge wooden doors that opened into the main lobby. Yumiko walked the halls of that monolith each school day, and she never ceased to be bored by it. It was almost like the architect designed the place to dull people’s minds. Yumiko kept walking past the school, looking across the street at a beat-up, run-down building that was designed by the same person who made the plans for McCorrin High School. She looked up and down the streets and crossed the street briskly, hands in pockets. She glanced around carefully, then opened the door and walked inside.

Once safely in the old cafeteria building for McCorrin High, Yumiko relaxed and leaned against the door, eyes slipping shut. Nobody but Michael knew she lived here. She smiled and tapped her fingers along the grain of the wood. All hers. Yumiko crossed the cafeteria floor, hopped up on the dusty stage, and looked over her home. Moonlight filtered through dusty windows at the top of the cafeteria walls, shining down on white tables and black linoleum. The occasional cobweb glinted from between the tables and floor. Yumiko brushed the moth-eaten curtain aside and walked behind it to find a mattress and pillow.

She stretched out on the makeshift bed, putting her hands behind her head and looking up at the ceiling. The beige ceiling was plunged in darkness from the curtain. She stared up at the black abyss. Yumiko closed her eyes, but didn’t sleep. Her mind drifted back in time, and the ghost of a grin stole across her face. “Miss me, old friends?” she said.


“Lazy bum.” Yumiko flicked an acorn at Jonathon’s head. Without looking, Jonathon’s hand flicked out, catching the nut effortlessly. “We’ve been sitting here, talking, for what? Two hours?” She blew her gold bangs out of her eyes, smiling wickedly. “And about absolutely nothing. Honestly, Jonathon . . .” She laughed softly. She broke a leaf off of a branch and began twirling it around in her hands.

Jonathon just leaned back against the tree. “So? I enjoy talking to people. And you’re always interesting to talk to,” he said. He put his long pianist’s hands behind his head, looking up into the sky through the branches. “In fact, sometimes you almost talk too much. Why is that?” He smiled.

Yumiko looked down at Jonathon from her perch in the limbs of the tree. She smiled back. “I dunno. It just seems like being silent . . . would be wrong. I don’t like the quiet. Never have, really,” she said, waving her hands in a ‘comme çi, comme ça’ gesture. She didn’t want Jonathon to get worried and start prying. That might lead to some problems.

“Well, talking a lot is one way to cover the silence,” Jonathon said. He picked up a lichen-covered rock from the ground and looked at it intently. “Another way would’ve been to get yourself plenty of close friends. That’s always worked for me.” He grinned widely. He tossed the rock out into the forest, where it vanished into the darkness.

“Growing up how I’ve grown up, you don’t get many opportunities for friends,” Yumiko said. She leaned down, precariously hanging off the branch. “Suppose it’s a good thing I met you guys, huh?”

Jonathon stood up, his face level with Yumiko’s dangling feet. He stared up at her. “Well, let’s see, since you met us, you’ve gotten food, a place to stay, and the security of a controlled Talent. All that, and you’ve earned lifelong friends. Yeah, I’d say it’s a good thing.” The voices asked Yumiko how long she thought they’d remain her friends.

Something behind Yumiko rustled in the underbrush, and Jonathon and Yumiko tensed. A large shape resolved itself out of the darkness into a bearded overweight man. He nodded at them. “Have a nice chat?” he said.

“Yeah, we did, Luke,” Yumiko said, grinning. “What, is it six already?” She swung out of the tree, landing effortlessly on the forest floor.

Jonathon looked at his watch. “It is. Time for some exercise, huh, Luke?” he said.

The huge man nodded. He turned to go back into the forest. Jonathon and Yumiko followed. Yumiko grinned. This promised to be fun. She rubbed her left wrist, lost in her thoughts.

The three entered a small clearing, with about ten people gathered in the center. Jonathon nodded to each of them, and walked out into the middle area of the clearing. He looked around. “All right, good to see you all. My name’s Jonathon. You all know me in some way or another.” He smiled. “Since you’re here in the Forest, I won’t ask if you’ve got a ‘Talent’, or an ‘Alter’, or any other name mundanes have called us in the past. I know you do, because that’s pretty much the only way any of you survived out here.” He shook his head. “I sound pretty damn stiff, don’t I? Don’t worry, I’m not always like this.”

Lucas groaned. “Just get to the point, Jon,” he said.

Jonathon rolled his eyes. “All right, Luke, all right,” he said. “Anyway, you’re all here because you’ve heard about our plans to take over one of those military bases and fly ourselves out of this godforsaken place.” His mouth curled downwards. He looked at the ground, bent down, and picked up a smooth stone. He held it up at eye level. “But those bases have anti-Talent squads just waiting to tear us to pieces. We may have more raw power than they do, but guess what? They know how to use their abilities. So that’s what this is all about. What we need is control. Without control, we’re gonna get wasted.” He tossed the stone up in the air idly. “Hell, we may get wasted anyway. But I’d hate to think we went into it stupidly.” He caught the stone in his left hand, grinning. “You guys in?” People slowly nodded. Then, with one fluid motion, Jonathon tossed the stone into the air and brought his right hand up from his side. The hand twitched, then stiffened and turned gray. The entire arm turned into a long grey tube. Jonathon stared at the stone as it fell to earth. He fired, and the stone blew into tiny pieces.

Jonathon relaxed, and turned back to the people gathered in the clearing. “Sure, that looked impressive,” he said “But that’s nothing compared to the training the military gets. I’m no match for them. I’ll need a lot more training than what this Hateful Forest gives me on its own.” He looked thoughtful. “So, after that, how many of you are willing to help us?” Six people raised their hands. Jonathon took their faces in, nodding and smiling. Yumiko marveled at Jonathon’s ability to convince people. He was a born leader. “That’ll do, I think,” Jonathon said. “The rest of you, change your mind, I’ll still be here.” The ones who didn’t raise their hands left quietly.

When they were gone, Yumiko and Lucas came forward. Lucas glanced at Jonathon. “They’re not many, but they’ll do,” Lucas said. He rubbed his beard, and began talking. “All right, you signed up to train. So, try and hurt me.” He stared at them, and his body encased itself in hard red armor. Jonathon nodded at Yumiko, and walked over to her.

“Hey, nice speech,” Yumiko said. “Do you really think it’ll be that bad?” She looked at him quizzically, brushing the gold hair out of her face.

Jonathon sighed. “Actually,” he said, “I think it may be worse. This could be suicide no matter how much training we get.” He folded his arms and watched one of the new ‘recruits’ fire a blast of energy that bounced harmlessly off of Lucas’s armor.

“You’re certainly somber. Were you thinking about that the whole time we were talking?” Yumiko said.

“Yeah,” Jonathon said. Another tried, ramming into Lucas with his own, slimmer armor. He ricocheted off, flying back into a tree.

“So that’s why you were so thoughtful,” Yumiko said. “I was kinda surprised. You don’t often think much.” She grinned. Jonathon punched her in the arm.

“That was cruel, Yumiko,” he said, but he was laughing.


Yumiko smiled. “Some times, huh? Too bad they ended so badly,” she said. Yumiko closed her eyes and fell asleep in the abandoned cafeteria.
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Was this long? Was it annoying? Yes, probably both, but either you know the character as well as I do by now or you don't.

Now you know why I needed a separate thread . . .

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I'm too damn pretty to die.


Last edited by Ghost on Wed Aug 20, 2003 10:28 pm, edited 1 time in total.

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PostPosted: Wed Aug 20, 2003 10:01 pm 
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^__^ Edited.

And an impressed bow to Kitsune. Beautiful.


Last edited by darksetyuna on Thu Aug 21, 2003 6:02 pm, edited 2 times in total.

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PostPosted: Wed Aug 20, 2003 10:24 pm 
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You know . . . this was just for my post, since it was so goddamn long.

I think I'll have to make this clearer in the title.

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PostPosted: Wed Aug 20, 2003 10:28 pm 
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^__^ ahh! yus!


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PostPosted: Wed Aug 20, 2003 10:29 pm 
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But beautiful picture. You draw that yourself?

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 Post subject: 51%!? ;_;
PostPosted: Thu Aug 21, 2003 12:43 am 
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Looking at that picture, it looks like someone has been playing FAR to much Vagrant Story.

Not a bad thing mind you...


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PostPosted: Thu Aug 21, 2003 2:15 am 
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<font color=darkred><b>Lorem Ipsum
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i got lost half way through Kit.

save the RPing for the actual RP thread, and do up a character profile of about 10 or so short paragraphs, and post that in the OOC thread.

It's easy to let the pen wander, and fill pages upon pages with information, but consider it me setting you the challenge of whittling your character down to a 1/2 page to a page.

Dark? looks good, post it in the other thread as well.

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PostPosted: Thu Aug 21, 2003 2:21 am 
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1/2 a page, damn. Ironfists profile is already 1 and a half pages, but then I have been detailing his strengths and weaknesses quite abit.

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PostPosted: Thu Aug 21, 2003 2:40 am 
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<font color=darkred><b>Lorem Ipsum
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if origin is the part that's blowing out to huge size, you should be able to sum it up in one or two small paragraphs.

leave the actual RP for readers/players to discover about your character.

As i said, this also leaves plenty of room for you to mould details to fit the begginning scenario, which is by no means finalised.

Let your character's actions before Mad arrives be their origins when we start playing,

Character Bios should quickly detail powers and the geeral who and where...let them act as a teaser for your character.

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PostPosted: Thu Aug 21, 2003 2:43 am 
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I'll shortern it down then, but I've PM you the full thing so that you can check it before I post it (its cause he's quite powerful and is only likely to get more powerful when I add his group of followers).

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PostPosted: Thu Aug 21, 2003 7:08 am 
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I wanted a lot of stuff, Mad. I can post a shortened version in the actual thread if you wish.

Y'see, there's this thing, called writing . . . it's where characters lodge in our heads and don't let go till we've written them . . . and I like to write. There was no reason at all for me to include that story. But I did, anyway, and that's because I enjoyed writing her and wanted to see if anyone enjoyed reading her.

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 Post subject: Since creativity should be encouraged...
PostPosted: Thu Aug 21, 2003 8:45 am 
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It does look quite impressive, though I've only had time to read the powers descriptions and such. Nice art, though (to both Kit and Set).

Have fun with this RT:2 thing, y'all; looks like it's gonna be a trip to remember.

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PostPosted: Thu Aug 21, 2003 6:01 pm 
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^^ thankee. But sadly, that is not my own. I've been stealing arts again. ^^;; Though .. I will be drawing certain poses and stuffs for the char, eventually ...

Oh! And Grey did all the photoshop altering. *hugs Grey* Thankyyee dude!


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PostPosted: Thu Aug 21, 2003 6:45 pm 
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*ish hugged* ^^


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PostPosted: Fri Aug 22, 2003 11:35 am 
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There Y'go Kit, like I said I would. I know I've not got the colours wrong, but hey, that's artistic licensing for you...

Hope you enjoy.


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PostPosted: Fri Aug 22, 2003 1:30 pm 
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Ok, yah, you got the colors for the armor absolutely fucked up to God-knows-where, but other than that . . .

Good Lord, that's fucking awesome. There's no higher praise for a character than beautiful fanart. I believe, were she real, Yumiko would be blushing.

Thanks, indi. That's really cool.

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