Sakume's Friends of Mental Instabilities

Characters listed here in order are: Selene, Mark, Raziel, Arlen and Kate.

*Selene*

Name: Selene Vlaxen

Age: Appears to be 23 in human years, in reality, angels cannot be measured in years.

Race: Angel (Second generation- see bio for more information)

Sex: Female

Hair: Light Blonde, sort of a wheat color, but darker when wet.

Eyes: Light Blue, like an ocean.

Weight: 170 lbs.

Height: 5'9

Blood Type: Unknown

Weapons:

Angel's Sorrow A large sword wrapped in a crimson thread all over. It was a silver titanium alloy, nearly unbreakable, but weak on defense. She obtained the sword by the vampires when she went with Xiaver to their hideout; it used to belong to him before she stole it in her struggle. It is now broken and useless, completely gone fom existence due to Zorlo's power surge (See biography).

Her Large Wings They can change their sensitivity and such at her decision. She can therefore, use them as an unbreakable shield or a feather-light pillow.

Heaven and HellTwo short slim swords that reach from her head to her waist, approximately three feet each not including the hilt. They are a pure metal alloy of titanium and iron, completely unbreakable, forged for her specifically to use. They are unfortunately small, and hard to block direct attacks with. She's excellent at using them for close combat, but Selene cannot use them from a distance.

Armor: Nothing but the clothes on her back, but her wings can be used at times for differing purposes since they are so tough and resilient at her choice.

Strengths: Selene is a very talented fighter when it comes to using her weapons in battle. She has had little training besides what Zorlo has shown her, but she seems to have a natural knack towards fighting, even though she doesn't appreciate it much. She knows how to use her environment more to her advantage than she actually uses her swords. She is lithe and agile due to her race, graceful with any surface/weather conditions that may try to slow her. Because she is an angel, she can fly. She is a force to reckon with in the air; she is a blur when flying at top speed. One of her greatest unrealized strengths is her beauty. Many men tend to swoon at the sight of her. When she is determined, her spirt is impossible to break, even if she is beaten. Her anger fuels her passion for fighting someone, so the angrier she gets, the more rash but the more powerful she finds herself.

Weakness: In a general sense, romance and vampires are her greatest weaknesses. She's quite easily taken in by a soft-spoken man, especially one who feels for other's problems. Vampires can be considered a weakness since she will not fight one unless forced, nor stay even in the same room with one alone. She hates vampires with a passion and makes little effort to grow close to one. Her physical strength is lacking, partially because she's a woman and partially because she hates for people to be hurt. She doesn't have a real sense of strategy in battle, instead, she fights the opponent as best as she can until she cannot fight any longer or knows she's bested. She hates darkness because she will never get over "the hole" of her past. She is so gentle and loving, that she will easily believe most lies fed to her, even if they are by an evil person.

Skills/Magic: She can heal others, but only if she takes their pain upon herself. This also includes emotional pain. She can easily tell when a person's feeling an emotion, and will normally question them about it if it's negative. To her, they are like colors that she can see, yet not truly visible. When first alerted to this ability, she could not control it, but she's getting better at controlling her absorbing of emotion now. Selene is also fluent in Greek, though that has not truly helped her anywhere as of yet.

Tears of Love Her tears are able to heal almost any wound, but are not able to be summoned at any time.

Heaven's Light Selene can form a fire that is pure white hot flames. She can use it at any passionate time she is feeling emotion, no matter what it is. It increases in power as her feelings and passion does. It takes a lot of energy, and she uses it a lot of times to wrap about her small swords. She can also use it as somewhat of a distance attack, making small fireballs in her hands to launch at her enemy. It cannot be extinguished unless she does so herself or it hits something. It can be considered a holy magic, but is not something that can be learned.

Personality: Selene cares about others greatly, and likes to sacrfice for their happiness, even at her own expense. She likes to hear others use humor, but she's not very good at making jokes herself. Her face shows gentility and caring. She is extremely innocent, to a point where it is almost unbelievable at times, but this is not her fault. Thanks to her husband, Zorlo, she is now much better with being more happy in life, as he is. She tends to hide her feelings from others, especially if they are sad or generally negative. If questioned about something she does not like to speak of, she becomes a recluse. She may tend to come off with the appearance of a loner, but that's because she's spent most of her life alone, so she tends to be shy and seclusive at first. However, she's extremely friendly ahd bubbly when she is happy.

She has a soft heart for those questing towards something to do with love. Anything to do with romance, especially towards her, eases her into a state of relaxation and calmness. She's sensitive towards emotion around her, and if someone else is sad, then she will absorb that and become depressed herself. Despite being happy normally, if something bad happens, it sends shockwaves down Selene's view of life and can drastically change her personality.

Selene may come off at first as slightly dizty as well, as she is extremely curious about the world around her. Despite this appearance, she has great wisdom about her decisions, taking time to analyze the possible consequences before doing something. She fights for the good of what she believes, having a rather Christian onlook to life, despite having no specific religion herself. She loves her husband, Zorlo, more than anything else in her life, and will sacrifice her very life for him if needed. She does not like the fact that he leaves her so often to do what he does best (wandering and training) but she accepts it.

Her hobbies include planting things, which she is very good at, eating home-grown foods and she has recently taken up painting, which she uses to capture beautiful scenery and memorable people. She has never sold one of her paintings, simply due to refusal of giving up what she loves.

Appearance:http://i91.photobucket.com/albums/k3..._angels004.jpg
http://i227.photobucket.com/albums/d...9/Angel-10.jpg
((Pics may not be visible, copy and paste the site to see for sure.))


Manual Apperance: Lower back length wheat hair, a bit wavy. Her eyes are like pools of the ocean, an aqua-colored hue. She normally has on white gloves with a golden trim that match her dress and boots. Her skin is a paler white than most people's, but she's not a sickly color. Her lips are a deep red, and her cheeks tend to flush a pink whenever she's happy.

History: Selene was a princess of angels, destined from birth to become queen one day as her mother had. Her mother was loving, encouraging, and a just leader, always teaching her daughter everything she knew. Her father hardly paid attention to Selene, being very stern and reminding her often that she was a princess and should act as such, though for the most part he ignored her. Her life went on like this for many years. However, when she came of age to have her wings grow in like all young angels did, instead of pure white wings, hers were a blood red color.

During this time, she found young love in an angel named Will, who was hired to become a cook's assistant. Things began to become heated in the relationship as they grew older, and they began to sleep bare with one another (literal sleeping, not any form of sexual act), until one night Selene's father found them out. He was furious, immediately firing Will. This doomed the boy's family (as his father was the captain of the heavenly army), and shunned Selene from possibly having any other friends.

Using this "sin" Selene had committed as an excuse, and the chance of her mistaken for a demon which would effectively end his reign as king, her father threw her in the hole in hopes of quieting her presence. The hole is a punishment used for only the most grave of sins in heaven, where the darkness can be felt, smothering and hot. Selene was cast into the pit once as a child, for arguing with her father, though she did nothing at the age of ten. It was at this point she met the dark side of herself in that seclusion, named, conveniently for lack of a better title, Dark Selene. She absorbed the side of herself into her body in that time and returned above, where she was banished and sent to earth. She could not return to heaven that she knew with just her power, and was depressed, thinking it was her fault. Her mother, the queen, never wanted to banish her, and the king spread word that Selene had disappeared. In time, she was forgotten.

Years passed in earth time, and she grew into a beautiful young woman, hiding her wings because of shame. She was supposed to be a pretty, abandoned performer with a particular talent for dancing using a pole...unknown to the human viewers in the club, her grace was because of her angel blood. She liked to dance for people in bars and see their smiling faces, especially men's. She didn't know it was wrong, or dirty. She saw it as something good since she made them smile and enjoyed it herself. Unfortunately, soon after she began her career as a dancer, her wings were found out. She was now viewed as something unknown, and man naturally feared her. Driven from all humanity, she became desperate for any company.

Then she met Xiaver, a vampire who claimed he had feelings for her and knew how she felt, as he was driven from socitey as well. He was kind to her, and had a smooth tongue. After a few months of spending time together and him supporting her, they became engaged. A few days after the joyous occasion, he told her to meet the rest of his family. To her unblievable surprise, when she obediently came at the appointed time, he had betrayed her to the vampire race. They believed that an angel's blood can, when correctly mixed, make them invincible to anything, and allow them to live forever. Although this was true, Selene was not willing to sacrifice herself for his family of seven. Their family had two that were the head of the race, and the rest followed below at the lower status of the family. One vampire besides Xiaver caught her eye. They were in a lineage of power, starting with one she was surprised with.

Jack, the brother of Xiaver, and ultimate head of the clan, never planned for her to be sacrificed. He was more powerful than Xiaver, but couldn't stop his family, for he seemed to lack something. His sister, Mystique, next in line, held what he lacked, equal in power with him, but only because she possessed their father's skull. In following order of power, there was Xiaver, Rose, Liam, Richard, Mirage, and Pearl. Six vampires against one angel was not fair in the least, and Selene was quickly overcome. In a last attempt to fight them off, Selene stole Xiaver's sword, fleeing with it.

Selene was almost killed in that brawl, but managed to escape using the weapon, the smug face of Xiaver burning in her mind along with every time he had claimed to love her. Before she left, she had no idea his sword held power over her emotions. If she even started to feel anything to a great amount, she would experience a great deal of pain. Then, she swore she'd have her revenge, whether it took her an eternity. She would find Xiaver...and make him pay.

She reached a forest in her journey to find him, and, by now sapped of nearly all emotion and leaving herself with only lonliness, appointed herself guardian of it. Surrounded by nature and beauty, she found a sense of calmness. She learned numerous secrets of the forest's treasures as the years went by, and she soon was caught up in fate's grasp, meeting a party searching for the very treasure she guarded. One member of the party, a fencer named Zorlo, caught her eye, and then her heart. She helped him and the party through the woods to find the portal and treasure, but the true love was cut short. Xiaver found her due to the strong emotions of love coming from his sword, and after a desperate fight to regain his weapon, killed her. She was brought back in another realm, sent on a quest to regain a body in the human world, and did complete that quest, having gained the ability to appear human now.

Once they learned of the death of their brother, the rest of Xiaver's family attacked Zorlo. He one by one he destroyed them, all but Xiaver and Jack. Jack took the shard of his father's skull left after Zorlo shattered it and now posseses it, using it for his own power, that of a neutral sense. Xiaver, meanwhile, searches for Selene, pining to enact revenge upon her.

Selene found her dark form (that first appeared to her in the hole) re-emerged, and assumed control over the personality, at least temporarily. Not too far into the future, after Zorlo's neutral force Crimson took over, Dark Selene found herself loving him. She visited The Wishmaster to see if he could give her a new body. He did so, but took away her memories of ever meeting him in the first place. Now Dark Selene is wandering the earth, curious as to who she is, leaving Selene alone. Shortly after this, Zorlo proposed to her, and she agreed immediately to be married.

Currently, she is ready to find love with him as her husband and then take care of a recent dispersion in heaven.

Awards:

Best Post- Knockin' on Heaven's Door, first Post - Summer '08
Best Couple- Zorlo and Selene- Winter -06, I believe.
Most Attractive Character- Tie with Cadenza Madigral- Summer '08

Selene's Main theme: "Dark chii theme(fuuma dialogue mix)"

Battle Threads:
The Forest of Whispers (Completed)
The Lies of Many (Dropped)
Of Angels and Demons (Completed)
RP Dominion vs Alliance of Tasogare. (Dropped)
The Fate of a Princess (Dropped)


Crossroads Threads:
Reunion: Lover, Masters and Gods (Completed)
Gladiators of the Galaxies (Dropped)
The Great Hickleback Hunt (Dropped)
Love Waits for No One... But Zorlo. (Completed)

History Threads/ Fics:
Heaven's Light (Dropped)
The WishMaster (Completed)

[size="3"]Mark Begins[SIZE]

Name: Mark Ilia Vandibrough

Age: 24

Race: Human

Sex: Male

Hair: Dirty blonde hair that reaches to his neck, usually either completely messed up like he just woke up or a clear, clean sheen.

Eyes: One is a sparkling green, and the other is a deep, dark blue.

Weight: 179.28 lbs., respectively.

Height: 5 feet, 9 inches.

Blood Type: AB+

Worth: $2,761,190 on the Black Market.

Relations:

*Deceased* Mina-A ten-year-old sister that looked incredibly like her mother. Returned to mansion at six years old, when she had disappeared from the town at age five. Killed inside Mark's mansion.
*Unknown* Sarah - Mother, disappeared when Mark was involved with the fire. She is blonde, not purple-haired, like the picture shows.
*Unknown* Jack - Father, disappeared the night of the fire.

Weapon: Depends on his mood. Normally, he doesn’t carry anything around with him. He learned several methods of protection in his times in the mental institution, so he knows a lot of abilities with his mind he does tend to use more. He may have random potions on hand, so it’s always a different battle with him.

Screamer: This is a ten foot whip he obtained from pieces of leather tied together with shards of glass and nails embedded into it. It also contains splinters of broken bone and other sharp things. Normally, it tends to slash open people horribly, but if he gets a good deep shot, it literally rips the flesh off in strips. It’s not breakable by any means, for the leathering is far too thick to snap, and the shards make it difficult to touch it without piercing one’s hand. He tucks away in his belt. It’s his main weapon, and useful for distance attacks, as well as using it to pull himself to unreachable instances. He dislikes using it, though, for he tends sometimes to cut himself and then not notice until he has lost a great deal of blood from a simple wound.

Screamer of Insanity: This is Mark’s ultimate attack. It is only available when he goes completely insane, which thankfully, is happening less and less. If his anger builds to a certain point, he is able to alter the forms of his whip using his body movements, making it able to become hard and sharp like a spear. At this point, he no longer exhibits any care for himself whatsoever (can be a very bad thing). One of his favorite attacks in this stage is to push his entire whip through someone’s chest and loop the whip through their ribcage, pulling until their entire skeleton comes out in pieces. Another of his favorite attacks is to throw his whip about an enemy’s neck as it wraps together and yank until he’s pulled the head off. Mark takes extreme pleasure with causing others pain in this form.

Tears of the Rain: Mark’s umbrella doubles as a sword when he presses the release button. It’s difficult to control, and cumbersome. He only keeps it when it’s raining, so he hardly ever has it on him, unlike his whip, which he carries around with him. The blade is about two and half feet long, and slides out of the handle, looking like a pointed cane with a sword attached.

Armor: None unless he creates it with a potion, which is doubtful. He considers the stuff to be heavy and tiresome.

Strengths: Mark has extreme strengths in his thought patterns. One of his favorite philosophies is “mind over matter”, literally. He thinks of himself as perhaps the youngest genius ever to be born. True to his claims, Mark is a literal prodigy to his parents, town, and perhaps what he knows as the world. Within seconds, he can figure out numerical sequences that would take the top scientists in the F.B.I. months to answer. He also contains excellent skills with thievery and sneaking, able to rob banks or steal from the police station if he liked. For this, he has developed extreme agility and speed for a human. Strangely, Mark does not know much about technology, despite being so smart in other areas of the world. He is now growing more knowledgable about such things thanks to a new friend of his, Monroe Vossler. Mark has been forging weapons for the man in return for information and some visits. He enjoys his company very much.

Besides this fact, Mark has already tried several of his own concoctions he makes, and therefore, has several inhuman strengths. For one, he is basically invincible to any sort of pain. Hardly any stabs or magical spells hurt him, for his body has built up an extreme resistance to pain of any sort. His blood is extremely thick, and therefore he loses it slowly. Some wounds hardly seem to affect him. The only possible way to kill him in his human form would be to subject him to long periods of loud noises, or to deal him with an impossible escape, such as drowning or lack of air. He’s always developing new potions and formulas, and he knows enough to make just about any factor true, from changing his sex to switching to an animal, to growing wings.

Weakness: Though Mark doesn’t feel pain, it is possible for him to bleed to death easily from even a minor cut because he will not notice it. Therefore, he’s always careful to bandage his wounds shortly after they appear, knowing that he won’t be able to tell if he becomes too weak until it is too late.

Mark has a pity towards most people, and doesn’t like to fight when he can help it. This makes it easy to get the first draw on him. His strength is severely lacking, and he sometimes has a tendency to stall too much before attacking. He also has a great soft spot for his little sister, and therefore refuses to fight young girls, period (ranging from an age of ten and younger).

He has a great weakness when it comes to people talking about family or love, for he has lost all of that, and feels he can never regain it. He finds himself with a complex nervous state around asylums of any sort, and he can go crazy at any time when in one. Though he has several potions on hand most of the time, they are short-lived, and some may have…awkward effects depending on if he made them correctly. Finally, Mark suffers from an extreme case of Ligyrophobia, or the fear of loud noises. Because of the constant pierce of the sirens while he stayed at the asylum, Mark will literally freeze and go into a sort of postponed shock/seizure state when this goes off, or have other adverse effects. Prolonged exposure can kill him, and the sounds make him slightly mad, depending upon the volume of them.

Skills/Magic: Mark does not have any idea about magic; he considers it to be tricks of his mind. He can, however, make potions and formulas for just about anything you can think of. He has intense skills with numbers and mysteries as well, and can solve them in seconds.

Appearance: At first glance, Mark looks like a normal boy. He wears a pair of old, semi-bloody and semi-dirty jeans that have faded from their deep blue to a dingy color. He normally wears the same style of what used to be a white t-shirt. If he’s not wearing this, he’ll be dressed in what looks like a school uniform, complete with a vest and slacks. He tries to keep a well-groomed appearance most of the time.

No matter what he’s wearing, he will always have a pair of thin rimmed rectangle-like glasses in his pocket, one of the lenses cracked, and the other popped out. He insists he can’t see without them, even though his vision was repaired after a certain potion he concocted. His face is without blemish, albeit dirty most of the time. He’s very charming in appearance, a heartthrob for most girls based on appearance. Besides his whip, he’ll probably also have several glass bottles in his pack or on his belt. They may be filled with varying colors of liquid. He also carries around a small set of aids for his hobbies, including a nail file, a pocket mirror, some ladies blush, tweezers, a few hairpins, a paper clip and a rubber band.

Here's a small picture of his likeness. Color. : 3

Another picture, but this time non-color by the amazing HitokiriChibi! : 3
http://i55.photobucket.com/albums/g1...ume88/Mark.jpg


Personality: Mark’s personality is complicated in many ways. Taking care of trivial matters, he is rather comedic most times, enjoying other people’s flusters and gasps at his revealed skills. He rather dislikes showing how smart he is if he can help it, but if it has to be done, he’ll willingly agree. He enjoys only one type of music, because of his fear he will not listen to rock or any loud types of song. He likes classical pieces, and they help him to think. He will also enjoy music from the oldies, and rather likes how the people were happy. Though at times he can be described as a semi-sadist, he really hides a lot of his pain inside, disliking others to know what he’s feeling. A lot of his sadness is bottled up, and he only expresses his feelings to himself, preferably at night in bed. He is very squeemish, despite liking pain, and he expresses this by promptly throwing up at the sight of anything gore-related.

He hates rather joyous people a lot, for he feels it’s unfair that they can be so happy, especially with others in love interests, when his life has been so terrible. He despises fish, though he likes to eat veggies more than anything else. He also dislikes others to feel pain even though he doesn’t like their joy, for he also has a sense that they shouldn’t be like his life was. He doesn’t like insults, and tends to overreact even at a joked attempt to poke fun at him.

When someone first meets him, Mark may tend to give off the impression of a rather crazed person, especially if he’s near his hometown. He often speaks in short, factual sentences, seemingly captain obvious. His demeanor may also seem quiet or friendly, it all depends on his present mood. He can also be completely crazed in many ways, unpredictable as a roll of the dice.

Mark enjoys the more simple things in life, such as a cup of tea every morning, waking up to the dawn to his pocket watch he carries around, and relaxing in his study. His main home is his parent’s mansion, where he enjoys staying, though others tend to disagree. It’s filled with booby traps and wild mazes created by both Mark and his parents for experiments, but Mark uses them for fun. He may seem somewhat English in his actions, much older-sounding than he actually is at times. His lifestyle would be difficult for others to adapt to, but he enjoys it immensely. He's a very pleasant and interesting character to talk to, and is usually kind to everyone new he meets.

His favorite thing in the world is reading books to increase his knowledge capacity, and to figure out riddles. He absolutely adores playing brainstorming games, and frequently makes up riddles just for fun. Much of his enjoyment comes from making others happy however he can. He feels like no one can understand him, and sometimes he will lock himself in his room in the asylum, embracing the insanity just to feel that he is no longer hurt, and no longer feel lost in the dark all alone…

Theme Song: Welcome To My Life-Simple Plan

Biography: (Warning: This history is extremely long as I tend to write books about my characters. Please relax, grab a snack, and take your time. I’ve split it up for you, just because. This is actually more of a character past compacted.)

Watching the swirling leaves outside the glassy window’s sheen, eight-year old Mark tapped the pencil against the wooden desk. He ended up supporting his chin upon his hand as he longed he could go out with them and twirl in the wind, dancing instead of stuck in here. How he dreamed he could possibly go there, out among the forest, and see what’s beyond this town.

“Mark Ilia Vandibrough!”

The boy snapped out of his trance, dropping the pencil with a clatter as the class all broke into giggles. The teacher tapped her toe on the ground, enclosing her ruler in her hand. “You were daydreaming again, Mark…tell me, what did we just talk about?” She faced the boy with a smirk, her fingers tracing the lenses of her glasses as she pushed them back up her nose.

The boy sank lower in his chair, his cheeks flushing a pink tint. “Um…we were talking about math?”

“Correct, Mark. Since you know the basics so well, tomorrow, I want you to lead the class in exercises…” She trailed off as the bell rung, and the children stampeded out in a flurry, grabbing their plastic lunchboxes and coats.

“Yes, Mrs. Harkam…” Mark shamefully stated as he took his coat.

“Wait, Mark. I want you to stay here while I go call your parents and talk to them about your lack of interest in your studies…you’re failing second grade…again. Now I want you to clean these desks until I return, and put some elbow grease into it!”

The blonde boy nodded as she left, grabbing a few paper towels off of the rack and looking around in a bewildered state.

“That’s right, Mr. Vandibrough. Your son seems distant, and he’s failing the grade once more…I just think it’s too much for him. Maybe you should consider a special school for him. Uh-huh…I see. Yes, sir, I’ll send him home. It just doesn’t make sense. His sister, Mina, is thriving; at an age of four…I’m just worried he may need some extra help. Yes, sir, I understand…”

She hung up the phone and opened the door to the classroom, gasping. In the midst of all the bottles of cleaning supplements, Mark huddled in the cupboard, reaching for the highest shelf. Bottles were knocked over all around the room, and some were leaking. “Mark Vandibrough! What do you think you’re doing?!” the teacher scolded, picking him up by the arm and roughly giving him a rap on his knuckles with a nearby ruler.

“I’m looking for the elbow grease!” Mark explained with a hurt expression on his face. “I tried to find it, but it’s not in the cupboard…”

Pushing her glasses up on her nose, the teacher laughed heartily, knowing Mark spoke the truth. “Oh…don’t worry about that, Mark. It was a figure of speech. Go home now, your mother and father told me you’ll have to walk today. Your sister should already be there.”

Mark left the school, heading home to the mansion that loomed in the distance. On the way, he passed the asylum. What a creepy place. Even from out here, he could hear the screams and delusional yelling. Boy, he hoped he would never have to go there, not even for a visit. He hurried past, waving with a friendly smile to the guard and coming up the stone steps to his house, pushing the large oak doors open.

“Big Bwother!” Mina called, throwing herself into his arms.

“Hey, Mina!” Mark hugged her tightly, ruffling a hand through her hair. He adored his little sister, for she happened to be the one who cared for him most, or so it seemed.

“MARK!” His father arrived home in a storm, refraining from speaking to his son until dinnertime rolled around, so the whole family was present. “Your teacher tells me you’re having a bit of trouble in the grade again, son…I thought we had covered this.” Mark couldn’t look his father in the eyes.

A strong man, Jack Vandibrough happened to be a great influence to the people of the town. Like his son, he had a determined sense about whatever he did, and normally proclaimed himself to be very rich. Indeed, his family happened to be quite well-off in life, and he seemed to enjoy it thoroughly. Jack always had a sort of gift with his experiments in science, and his mind was greater than most normal people. He took great pride in this, and decided that Mark would be the same, shocked when his son began to fail the second grade.

His wife, Sarah, tended to be more of a timid creature, interfering with her husband only if she feared for her children. Both of them had inherited her golden hair, but Mark had a strange characteristic. Mina was born with two beautiful baby blue eyes echoing her mother’s appearance in every sense. Mark, however, obtained a gift of one blue eye and one green, following both of his parents.

“I hope you’re going to try harder…go to your room and think about what has happened today. I’ll be up later.” Mark silently left the table, a tear rolling down his cheek before he wiped it on his shirt sleeve. He tried…he really did. He just had trouble thinking a lot of times. A wall blocked any thoughts…no matter how hard he tried to get over it, he always fell down, and each time, it was harder.

The fact bluntly remained in the child’s mind as he moped around his curtained bed, sipping a cup of tea. Mark had always liked tea, especially when he had a good book to settle down with. His parents were such a strong influence. In the small town of Red Hill, they were top scientists, on the verge of discovering the causes of a new disease that was plaguing the town, and working for the good of the people. Mark gazed out of his window, sighing as the wind’s breeze blew past his blonde hair.

The town of Red Hill remained as beautiful as it always seemed during the sunset. The bright hues of crimson and orange lit up behind the trees, seemingly lighting them on fire. He mused to himself as a knock was heard on his door. “Come in.” he chirped, turning with a serious look.

His father entered, and gave his son a stern look. “Son…I have something for you. I want you to drink it. Don’t ask questions.” He handed his son a small bottle, in which a black liquid bubbled.

“What is it?” Mark quickly covered his mouth. More than anything in the world, he wanted to please his father. Lifting it to his lips, he guzzled it down, falling back in a swoon. His father caught him and tucked him into his bed, feeling his forehead…he was burning up. Perfect. That meant this would most likely end in success…if not…no one would ever know. No one else would have agreed so avidly…therefore, his son was the perfect subject. This was the only way...

It was weeks before Mark could return to school, but his teacher did not forget what she had commanded him. “Mr. Vandibrough, could you please lead the class in the multiplication tables? Start at the two’s.”

Mark placed a hand to his head, and softly murmured. “Um…two times two is four…”

The class continued to drone on, pushing the small boy’s voice below. “Thank you class. See how easy multiplication is? It’ll be no time before you can figure out something ….something absolutely outrageous as three thousand and fifty four times five.”

“Fifteen thousand, two hundred and seventy.” The whole class hushed, and silently turned to face Mark. Ted, Mark’s best friend, seemed to be the most shocked. “I think that’s the answer…but I only think it’s the answer, I’m not sure. It all depends.”

The teacher chuckled for a moment. “Okay…let’s see.” She took out the calculator nearby her desk and punched it in, looking at the boy in pure shock. She never expected him to even be close, much less right. “Correct…how did you do that, Mark? How did you cheat? Do you have a calculator at your desk? Come on now, fess up. I know you didn’t do that in your head…how did you know?”

”I just…knew.”

*Later that Day*

“I never knew you could do things like this, Mark.” Ted stated as they were walking home later that day.

“I never knew I could either.” The two laughed. Mark decided to bring something up he had never brought up before. “Hey, we’ll be best buddies forever, Ted, won’t we?”

“Duh.” The two boys parted ways to their respective homes, Mark promising to help Ted with any trouble he had in his schoolwork. From that day on, Mark’s life began to change, rather slowly at first, and then faster and faster. He practically shot through his grades, so much so that school was even more boring than it had been before…until she came.

“Hi!” Her voice likened that of an angel’s, as soft as a bell chiming. She visited him when he remained apart from the group, thinking. Sometimes it felt like he couldn’t help it…he had to think.

“Hi…” Mark shyly exclaimed to her. Her blonde curls sprung about her face like waves of an ocean, and her eyes sparkled with more energy than he had ever seen in his life. She wore a fancy dress, with poofy sleeves that reminded Mark of cupcakes and lacy trims at the end of her stockings. Her hair was put up in a light sky blue ribbon. Such was the day Mark fell in love…

“Your dad and my dad are working together!” She piqued up, folding her hands behind her dress, fiddling with the ribbons.

“Oh…” Mark managed to say, tongue tied.

“So we’ll be seeing each other a lot…I’m Annabelle. What’s your name?” She leaned in closer to his face, her lips turned upwards in a gentle smile.

Through his dazed daydream of lollipops and rainbows, Mark managed to reply. “I’m…I’m M-M-Mark.” He replied in a stunned voice.

She laughed, making the most beautiful sound he had ever heard. Her skin was a flawless perfection, and even though she most likely did not deem herself to be pretty, Mark though she was a goddess. “Okay then, M-M-Mark! I’ll see you later!” She took off down the road, skipping and swinging her princess lunchbox in the air.

When Mark got home, he flopped beside his sister, who was playing a game of Clue with his parents. “Mark! Come and join the game…” His mother encouraged, patting a seat beside her.

“Mom…my heart is beating a million miles an hour…I can hardly breathe…”

At this, Jack Vandibrough shot out of his seat, facing his son in a panic. “What?! Son, are you alright?”

”I think I’m in love.”

“Oh…” Jack sat back down, sighing under his breath. “Tell us about it.”

“She’s amazing…she’s like an angel…when I saw her today, I don’t know what happened. I just felt…almost scared.”

“Well good thing she’s gone then…what was her name?” Her mother asked, turning to face her little boy.

“Annabelle, she said.” Mark recalled the sound of the name. It seemed as sweet as honey, pleasing as the most sumptuous of sweets as it rolled off his tongue.

“Annabelle? It sounds like someone we know, dear…isn’t that the chairman’s little girl?”

“Oh, yeah!” Jack clapped his son on the back, though it was not quite enthusiastic. “Great choice, son! Now all you have to do is make good friends with her, and you’ll be able to get this family into the good life for the rest of our lives...”

Mark backed away from his parents a bit. “I want to be her friend because I love her, not because she’s good for business…”

“Come on, Mark…who else is going to figure out anything about the new disease if you refuse to participate in getting this family more ‘assured status’ I suppose we could say.”

“I’m not going to fall in love because you want me to, Dad!” Mark replied in an angry huff, stomping off in the direction of his room, pouting in their direction. “I could do what you do, Dad! You’re not the smartest one in the world!”

“I’m a lot smarter than others I know, Mark! You’d do best to watch your tone with me!” Jack replied, sitting up as his son opened the door.

“By the way, the answer is the maid in the ballroom with the pistol!” Mark snapped, slamming the door shut. The family looked to one another for a moment, and blinked, Mark’s father reaching over to the answer envelope, and taking the cards out.

“My God…he’s right.”

*Five years later*

"But that’s impossible, Sarah! How on earth could our son have surpassed me in my own work?! He made an entire presentation without me about Aristotle’s faults in his views and the theological aspects of Albert Einstein!”

“You have no one to blame but yourself, Jack! You gave him the potion!”

“I know, Sarah…but either way, we can’t... have our own son showing us up…we’ll have to take matters into our own hands…”

“Jack? What are you talking about?” Slowly, the woman placed a hand on his shoulder.

“The asylum, Sarah…Red Hill is famous for its' nut cases that pop up from time to time…all we have to do is slowly set it up. I have good connections with the right people…”

“Jack! You’re not suggesting we send our own flesh and blood into the hell house of the world!?” Sarah exclaimed, backing away. “No! There must be another way! I love our son!”

“So do I, Sarah…so we have to do what’s best…think of him, not of yourself...think of Mark.”

“Mark, do you think we’ll be together and married someday?” Annabelle asked as they strolled down by the fountain in the back of her parent’s estate, him wearing a dark fashionable suit and her in a large skirt, accompanying her white gloves that reached her wrists and her small prim shade umbrella of pale blue.

“I hope so, Annabelle.” Mark replied as he watched a few birds twitter carelessly about the blooming cherry trees.

“You can call me Belle, Mark. According to our parents, we’re getting married someday.” She giggled, sighing.

“I know…Belle.” He lovingly stroked her cheek, picking a nearby rose as he passed a bush and presenting her the flower. “I just hope I can be good enough for you…you really want to get married to me that easily?”

“Of course I do, Mark…” Both of them were highly educated, and seemed to act more like miniature adults than teenagers. “I know it sounds rather coy, but I love you.”

“Belle…I love you too.”

“Promise you’ll never leave me, Mark…right now, here, in front of the fountain, I want you to swear to me on one knee that you’ll never leave me alone…you’ll never leave.”

He did as she said, bending down and taking her hand in his own. He would do anything for Annabelle. “My love, my only. I would do anything in the world for you. Say the word, and I’ll give you anything I possess, even my own life. I swear to you for all eternity that I’ll stay yours, and no matter what, we’ll be together. You hear that, world?! I’m in love with Annabelle, and we’re getting married someday! I love her!” He got up and faced her with a smile. “How was that?” Annabelle only giggled.

*Five Years Later*

“Happy birthday dear brother….happy birthday to you!” The family clapped as the blonde boy leaned over the table, blowing out the candles.

“What did you wish for, honey?” Sarah asked her son, giving him an affectionate rub on his head.

“I wished…I wished to stay as happy as I am now for the rest of my life…” Mark said, smiling at his family. “Dad…I’m sorry…I know I was angry at you at first…but I realize you know best for me.”

“You do?” Jack gave his wife a look. “Mark…we’re going to give you a very special present…I’m going to let you assist with my work. You’re going to do some research for me, alright?”

“Okay, Dad!” Mark exclaimed, full of excitement. His father had never given him a change to do anything like this in his life. “What am I going to do?”

“You’re going to survey some of the patients of Red Hill’s asylum…I want you to watch them…take some notes. I need to know how they act…okay?”

Mark paused in his reply. “But…but, Dad! They’re scary…those people are all crazy…do I have to? I’m not going to stay there all day, am I?”

“Of course not, son! We’ll come to pick you up before the day is over…tomorrow we’re going in the morning, and your mother will come get you before the nightfall.”

“Promise?” Mark managed a small smile, wanting more than anything to please his father.

“Promise.” Mark didn’t understand as he nibbled his cake why tears slid down his mother’s cheeks.


*The Next Day*

Screams echoed throughout the halls, and Mark clung tighter to his little sister, a notepad and a ballpoint pen in his hands. Through the see-through glass, people giggled insanely, some rocking back and forth in a futile attempt to calm their minds. The cool, calm clicking of the clock was the only thing Mark could hear, for it drowned out all other things. “Big brother…I’m scared. When will you come home?” Mina leaned into her big brother for comfort.

“I’ll be back tonight, Mina. Dad promised. Mom is coming to get me…” He felt himself being pushed into a white room at the end of the hall, and blinked, confused. He couldn’t see anything from here. “Hey…” The door shut, shutting out all sound. He could see his mother crying from behind the glass, and his sister placed a hand against the clear substance, speaking, though he couldn’t hear her. “Dad, how am I supposed to see anyone from here? What’s going on?” he asked, as his family turned and began to leave. He placed a hand against his sister’s palm as it slid off the glass, watching them leave. “O-okay! I’ll wait right here!” So it began…

“Wait a second!” Mark tried to talk to the nurse as she left the room, slipping in a plate of rather sickening-looking food and disappearing without a word. “My father’s coming for me...” He looked out the barred window, where the moon bathed the land in its luminescent glowing. “He promised…but…he promised…”

This went on for several weeks, and Mark felt like he was going crazy, ironic as it was. “Where’s my father? Get him on the phone! I’ll talk to him personally!” Two or three months flew by, with still no word from his parents whatsoever. “Just let me talk to him!” His efforts were in vain. He never left the room, and never found company, albeit there were sometimes in which a nurse would come to give him an unneeded sedative to lull him to a state of near-vegetation.

*A Few Months Later*

“Hey…Number 354.”

Mark lazily lifted his head; nodding from the straightjacket they tended to put him in. “Yes?”

“You’ve got a visitor.” The burly guard left, closing the door behind him without worry. Number 354 was never any trouble to anyone, but rather became one of the quiet ones.

Mark jumped to his feet, his sister peering at him from behind the glass. Her brother looked so different. The glow in his eyes of life and happiness had disappeared, and his hair stuck out every which way like he had stuck a fork into a toaster. “Big brother…what’s happened to you?”

“Mina! Mina, where’s father?! Why hasn’t he come?! You have to tell him I’m here! Tell him I’m still here!”

“He already knows, big brother... I think.” His little sister placed a hand on the glass, and he leaned against it longingly, wanting to feel the warmth and comfort of a human’s touch instead of the cold icy burning of sickness and inanimate objects.

“Wait, what?! He already knows? Then why hasn’t he come, Mina?”

“I don’t know…he says you’re crazy…everyone in town thinks so, too… I’m not sure what’s wrong…”

“Mina! Listen to me! You have to get me out of here! The sirens…are always going off…I think something’s wrong with me!” he pleaded, pressing his forehead against the glass. His sister continued to talk, but the speakers began to flicker off, for the woman controlling them had heard the conversation. “Mina! Help me!” he shouted as she was grabbed by the security and led out of the room. “MINA!” Just like that, she was gone.

This became the first blow. The next was nearly unbearable. A month later, or so Mark thought, another face appeared behind the glass. Her cheeks were tear-stained, and her orbs carried with them the red puffiness of sorrows untold. “Mark…hello…”

“Belle.” Mark met her at the glass, matching his hands against hers. “Belle, I’ll get out of here! Don’t cry…it’s only a matter of time…we’ll be together again, you’ll see.”

“Is it true, Mark? What everyone’s saying? My father forbids me to come, but I had to! Are you really crazy…and evil?”

“What? I’m not evil, Belle, I promise! I’m not! Why is this happening to me? What have I done? Belle, I’ll get out of here! I’ll come for you and we’ll be together, just like we promised! I’ll come for you…I love you…”

She lowered her gaze, wiping away her eyes. Silence reigned on her part; she sadly removed her hand and turned away, her heart aching. “Mark…I love you, too...” With that, she left, he tears plaguing his mind.

It wasn’t until the fourth time she visited that he would finally understand why she left in tears.

*The Fourth Visit*

“Mark…” She was accompanied by Ted, who stared his friend down, his arm hooked in Belle’s.

The blonde looked from one to the other, the horrible tormenting realization dawning upon him. “Belle…what’s going on?”

“Her name is Annabelle, Mark.” Ted stated, pulling her closer into his waist.

“Mark…I can’t do this…I’m marrying Ted…I love Ted.” She leaned into his embrace for a moment as he left her side, but her insticts throbbed against it. “My parents are arranging the marriage.” Her tone pertained to that of a cold snowy night. She obviously did not want this, but she couldn't let Mark know that. This was the easiest way to let him go. She loved him so much, but she couldn't do this any longer. Her parents pushing at her, and the disease breaking out in the town, and Mark everywhere she looked... she was so confused.

“Hurry up, Belle. We’ve got to get back home so we can meet our parents for the dinner tonight.”

This blow pierced Mark’s heart harder than any before. “Belle…Belle!” He shouted as she began to leave, and he pounded on the glass, sinking to his knees as she turned. “Just tell me…I need to know…” His eyelids felt like they weighed ten pounds each, weighing him down with overflowing tears. “Just tell me…tell me you don’t love me…that’s all I need…just tell me.”

The girl paused, her breath stilling up in her throat. “Mark…stop it... you're scaring me.” Oh why couldn't he just make it easy on her and tell her the truth? Why Mark?

“Belle, tell me. Just tell me. Do you love me or not?”

“….Good-bye, Mark…” She ran from the room, her sobs mixing with the constant cries of those in torment around Mark. The rest of the night, while the wind mercilessly licked his pale skin, Mark listened to those screams of pain and shock, and longed for his heart to cry out the same…he began to secretly form a plan for Ted…he was going to find out one way or another why he did this…what was going on. He didn’t have to wait long.

*A Bit Later*

One day, a very strange day, Mark woke up to find Ted in a straightjacket, sitting on his bed. Talking with him, he soon discovered that Ted had been accused of assisting the "phony" Mark, he himself inside the asylum, in an escape plan and was thrown in here. Mark wondered why on earth his father seemed so set on keeping him in here. He knew now that his parents had staged this thing, but he needed to know why, and why no one believed his claims to be Jack's son. The two soon regained their friendship, but they also met with punishments. Each day, Ted was allowed out to go out and work on making shoes…strange, but a habit they allowed there. Mark would take the spare leather and hide it away, making something secretly…

“Let me out of here!” Mark tried this act once a week, always faithful to know it may work. “Don’t you know who I am? I’m Mark Vandibrough!”

“Shut up!” The stern bark over the speaker came in the room. “The Vandibrough’s have their son in the mansion, idiot!”

Ted was gone working when a visitor arrived for one last time…Belle. “Why are you here?” Mark asked, drearier than before. “I thought you had left…just wait…when I get out of here…”

“Mark…let’s be practical. You’re never getting out of here…I don’t know what’s happening, Mark…but maybe…maybe it’s better this way. You don’t want to be outside these walls. These might keep you safe.” Her skin had become so white, he was unsure if she had a sickness of some sort or merely appeared that ghostly because of the glass and dim lighting.

“Belle…I want to be with you…what do you mean they keep me safe? Safe from what?” he responded, his eyes dim and his hope dwindling.

“Mark…I’ll always be waiting for you and you alone…just keep on hoping…keep on dreaming, okay?” She asked, her hands folded, and her pale frail frame trembling slightly. “True love will come…it’ll come through.” she managed, her throat stilling up as she tried not to cry.

“Alright…I’ll wait, too…for you, Belle. I’ll keep hoping. I’ll find you again. No matter what. I’ll find you again!” He pressed his forehead against the glass, her doing the same. Slowly, even though they never touched, their lips met on the glass. “I’ll find you…and I’ll love you... forever.”

*Later*

“Mark! It’s going to happen again!” Ted ducked in the room, pulling off the covers of the shabby bed and quickly throwing them over his friend, who huddled in the corner, clasping his ears as the tears streaked his cheeks. “It’s okay, man! It’s okay! We’re okay…we’re okay…” Ted clung to Mark as the piercing wail of the sirens began. “We’re right here, Mark…we’re okay…”

Mark huddled into his friend, clasping his shirt tightly. “Ted…I’m scared...I’m scared…what did I do wrong?!” he shouted above the constant wail, though it still wasn’t loud enough to be heard.

“Nothing…you didn’t do anything.” Each time the sirens sounded, it meant someone was either trying to escape, and failed. When the sirens sounded, it meant some unlucky soul found rest at last…in the arms of the electric shock treatment…or in the autopsy room, where people were frequently drugged and cut open…alive. The sound pierced their ears as Mark screamed, wishing more than anything in the world that it was over. He didn’t know it at the time, but Mark would from then on suffer from a severe case of Lygophobia.

*A Few Days Later*

“Mark! Don’t let them take me! I didn’t do anything! Don’t let them take me!” He locked hands with his friend, two nurses pulling on Mark and two pulling Ted away. “Don’t let go! Please!”

Mark felt his grip slipping slightly. “Ted! I can’t hold on! I can’t hold on much longer! Run! Don’t let them find you! Get out! It’s up to you, Ted! I can’t…” His hold was broken and his hand fell. “TED! TED!”

The door slammed, and Mark was left alone. Then he heard it. Those dreaded sirens piercing his mind. “Agh!” He clenched his head in his hands, bending down into a crouch. “Someone…anyone…”

“What’s that?!” He heard a woman’s voice from under the door.

“The kid kicked over a lantern and it ignited from some gasoline leak! He’s dead, let’s go!” The reply came from a man.

That’s when the peculiar scent wafted under the door and in the room. He sniffed in curiosity…smoke. Suddenly, blood-curdling screams pierced the normal silence, even heard through the soundproof glass. Mark could catch figures running back and forth, and he ran to the door through the sirens, touching the handle in pure fear. He cried out in pain, and held his hand, kicking the door. “Hey! Get me out of here!”

The smoke began to thicken, and the fire’s glow could be seen outside his door. The sickening aroma of burning flesh reached his nose, and Mark clasped a hand over his mouth to keep from gagging. He retreated to the corner of his room, the fumes of the smoke making him woozy. Within five minutes, he had fallen unconscious.

“Is that it?!” One of the firefighters shouted to Jack Vandibrough, who was surveying the scene. His eyes were steadily fixed upon his son’s chambers, where he noticed the huddled figure against the window. His unfeeling gaze reflected his tone, though Sarah lunged forward, he grabbed her arm, hugging her tightly. “Let it go…” he whispered, eyes searching the crowd. Then he looked to the awaiting firefighters. “Yes. That’s it…let the building burn to the ground… ” The small blonde sister leaped forward, her father’s grip tightening on her arm, holding her back in his strength.

“Big brother! Big brother! Hold on! Just hold on…”


*…?*

Mark had no idea what time it was, that remained no longer a factor. He only needed to know one thing…was he alive? He surveyed his surroundings in somewhat of a daze…how long had he been out? A day? A few hours? A few weeks? He looked about him in somewhat of a shock. Everything was charred, even the doors collapsed in an ashen heap.

He stumbled to his feet, exiting the asylum with his mind disoriented. Groggily, as if he had been sleeping for years, he gazed about the town. Where on earth was everyone? The town no longer found any sound or happiness, in fact, no one could be found. He passed the town sign, and looked at it, puzzled. Instead of the normal population count of one hundred and six, there was now only a single numeral, splattered in a red liquid. Mark didn’t want to think more on the matter, so he strayed away, scrambling to get to his home. As he arrived, he found himself in a state of shock. The mansion looked as if it had been older…the beams were rotting, and the paint was peeling. He knocked down the door.

“Mom? Dad? Mina? Where are you?” Nothing answered but the steady thump of Mark’s heart and the eerie whistling of the wind. “What’s happened to me?!” He moved towards a mirror, and gaped in fright. Lifting a hand to his face, he examined it, the soot coming off his fingers. He had survived. “What…” He looked down at himself. “What…I’ve been unconscious... I don't understand! But what’s happened to everyone? Hellooooooo?”

How on earth had he survived?! It must have been a miracle…he had to rebuild the mansion, and so he set to work. He would wait, he decided. Eventually, someone would come looking for him, wouldn’t they? Of course they would. He blinked as he began to slowly fix it up, it took him several months. He raided nearby abandoned stores for food, and strangely, he found he didn’t need to eat that often. Why, he did not know. He discovered he contained a certain passion for making things and reading.

In that time of exploring the ruins of the town, he found something amazing…nursing his hurt heart, he tucked his deepest secret away in a secret passage through his study. If one placed his family portrait picture frame down, the fireplace would open, leading down to what he kept in the darkness. Swearing his life to this project, he began to slowly experiment, concocting formulas. However, his life lacked one thing…communication. Sometimes the loneliness was so severe, he could hardly stand it.


*After the End*

The town slowly began to rebuild itself, though the people strayed far from the shadow of the mansion, only whispers of the maniac that resided there mentioned Mark. Mark did find a friend, but not how he thought. One day, he found himself taking a break from his studying to enjoy a good read. Skimming through “The Invisible Man”, he heard a sudden rush of ash from his fireplace and a frantic flapping. Quickly, he placed the book down and watched a small black bird flap up above his door, squawking. He found this quite amusing, for it was much like Edgar Allen Poe’s poem. Indeed, the bird could be identified as a raven. “Hello there, friend. Something I can help you with?” From that moment on, Mark and the raven, which he named Jeremy, became best friends.

Then came the huge night… Mark created his first potion. It followed what he had been taught, and he needed to test it. Remembering the point of why he was doing this, Mark touched the case, his first successful invention. “This is for us…” He drank it down. Silently he stalked over to the sword hanging before the fireplace. Taking it down, he positioned it correctly, and stabbed himself right through. Within moments, he knew it had worked. “EUREKA!” he shouted his trademark yell. “I’ve done it!”

He ran up to his room, smearing the blood that spilled from his chest all over the walls. “I’ve done it! Father! Are you proud of me now?! Are you!?” Of course, no answer came. Mark bandaged his wound carefully, and then, after scratching a few numbers into his wall, returned to his study. “I will always keep you closest to me…I swear…someday, I’ll find it. Like you said, I’ll never give up hope or the dream…Love will pull through…I know.”

Awards:

Person Award (Most Developed Character)- Second Place '08

Battles: Of Men and Gods *Dropped*

CrossRoads: Taking Over: The Forceful Way *Completed*
Silent as the Grave *Dropped*
An Unexpected Partnership *Completed*

Raziel Begin

Name: Raziel Leonidas Oscuridad

Age: 26 years old/ ?

Race: A werewolf with slight Spanish origins. (His grandfather was 100% Hispanic, but very little has passed on to Raziel).

Relatives and/or people who are very important to him:

Father *Raziel Sr.*- Alive, currently living in a cabin taking care of his daughter's wounds from the ball incident.

Mother *Serenity*-Killed by Wolves when Raziel was a child.

Older Sister *Yosuke*- Killed by Sakume a few years back.

Younger Sister *Sakume*- Currently unknown where her whereabouts are.

Sex: Male

Hair: Dark brown, but he always keeps it dyed a dark blue. Normally, it reaches just a bit past his shoulders.

Eyes: Dark brown

Weight: About 190 to 200 pounds. Muscular, but not so you can see. When he is a werewolf, he's much more defined.

Height: About 6'0 as a human, and 6'3 as a lycan.

Weapon:

Increased Senses Raziel naturally has higher senses of smell, sight, and hearing. He can see in the darkness, though it is not crystal clear. His sense of smell, especially, is the greatest of his senses and aids him the most due to his training with Chronos's rose.

Full Wolf form Raziel can shift inbetween a wolf and a human at will now, thanks to the pearl giving him added strength. He has gained enough concentration to retain the form as long as he pleases, even if it is not a full moon. He also no longer goes insane when transforming as he did when he was still immature. He is a graceful wolf, interpreted from wild wolves immediately as an alpha, or leader, of the pack. He is strong and loyal as a canine would be, a tuft of blue fur on his forehead dotting his otherwise completely gray coat. When he returns to human form, he does not have clothes on, so he tends to keep this form as long as needed in order to keep from being embarrassed.

Werewolf Form When it is a full moon, he gains a human-like appearance, but with his claws, that are 3-4 inches in length. His teeth grow into fangs and canines of about 2-3 inches. His pupils become too dark to see, almost entirely black. He is covered in a massive spurt of gray fur, with one tuft of dark blue on the forehead. This form, unlike his wolf form, is more grotesque to most people, and although it is much more battle-oriented, it is not meant for speed. He is a commendable force, but he cannot give chase or flee easily. However, Raziel would most likely just shift if needed to give him speed as a normal wolf.

Wolf Pack :Raziel can call upon wolves to help him in battle, but sometimes they may not answer, depending on the severity of his need and if he's near forest or not. He does not like calling for help from them since he's slightly frightened of wolves and doesn't like them.

Rose : Raziel received a magical rose from his teacher, Chronos, that allows him to be calmed in the midst of battle, soothing his anxiety and causing him to essentially lose that weakness. Besides this, when the thorns press against his flesh, it permits a new view of his environment, the effects depending on the situation. Examples may include the ability to see through walls, zoom in on things from a distance, or sense heat. It never wilts, and only works for him. He loves the scent of his rose, and it has enhanced his sense of smell and sight effectively.

Sword of Atlantis : A sword, carefully decorated in an cryptic message going up the sharpened metal. The components of the metal are nothing any human has ever known. It is too hard to break by any method. The hilt of the weapon is golden and black, the gold trailing up the hilt. It is worth a lot of money. The weapon is approximately two and a half feet in length, and quite skinny. The origin of this weapon is currently unknown.

Lorelei Tengu Despite its female name, this double-bladed axe is Raziel's favorite weapon. It is used also for enjoyable and commercial purposes, such as his trade of cutting wood.

* ---------------------------------*

If worse comes to worse, he resorts to physical strength. He's a distance fighter in his human form, but very close-up oriented as a werewolf.

Armor: A simple chain mail under his tunic. It's made of a silvery metal, something he forged himself. Not a professional work, as he's only experienced with wood.

Strengths: The higher senses of a wolf, and his precision with distance weapons. His heart is strong, and pulls him through many scrapes. He's also very fast and agile. He's got an entirely high tolerance for taking a beating.

In the woods, he is naturally comfortable in his surroundings, and seems to be able to dodge much better in the shadowed parts of the forest. He knows much about fighting techniques and is able to predict things fairly easily. He's also very resilient and not easy to kill.

Weakness: He hates wolves, although he is one. Much of his past is weakening to him as he dwells on it. Lovers also pain him inside, for he hasn't seen his in so long and feels as though he was never meant for anyone. He goes out of his way to help others, especially those he loves, even if it means hurting himself. He is sometimes foolish and holds back many times in battle, since he doesn't like to hurt anyone.

Appearance: Raziel wears a simple blue tunic with, and brown leather gloves that come to his elbows, though he sometimes doesn't wear these since he no longer needs them. He has a clear face, and is handsome in a rugged, sarcastic way. He has a long, dark blue cape dragging out behind him all the time. For some reason, he strikes people as the traveler that has many stories to share. When he is working, he wears much more woodsman clothing than normal, leaving his cloak behind and donning a dark blue working outfit.

He has chocolate brown eyes that show a strong capability for love, but it's masked behind anger and sadness. His hair falls to his shoulders, messed up most of the time. It is almost never the original dark brown color, but dark blue. He carries around a ring that always stays on his index finger and a dull pearl necklace around his neck, as well as silver metal cross, since his family was raised in a Catholic upbringing. One may be confused at first by his semi-innocent/curious attitude. His feet don normal boots, stained with mud from many years of traveling.

Personality: He is rash in battle, especially if it's near a full moon. In his werewolf form, he pushes to win constantly, even if it seems impossible. He can be smart if he takes his time in battle. Because of his "accident" he is the most powerful on a night with a full moon. He maintains a peaceful sort of air about himself and tends to be the one to resolve conflict in a group in a non-violent way, though if tested he will lash out.

Raziel enjoys fishing, something little-known about his personality. He has a knack for catching any sort of fish and knows much about the different kinds. Raziel also tends to excell in anything having to do with building things, or carving wood. Because his father happened to be a carpenter, Raziel took on much of the traits and is known as an excellent worker when it comes to houses and other things comprised of wood. He can also forge things as a blacksmith and is a pretty good cook, especially with things found in the wild.

Raziel also happens to know how to play the guitar proficiently, and it's one of his favorite instruments. He had planned for himself and his sister to become a team with her singing and dancing while he played, but that dream never came to be... she sang beautifully, and together, they produced a unique, perfect harmony, even as children.

There's no way he will just run straight into a battle, unless they person or thing threatens him or someone else. Because of his speed and agility, not many opponents can hit him straight away. He's not very social, because he doesn't know how to be. He gets close to people, but it takes a while before he will actually open up. Slightly shy and clumsy, especially around girls, Raziel cannot seem to get over his embarassment, though there's nothing to be afraid of, he knows. Women adore him for some reason, and currently, he has several that seem to have their future planned, including Sangre the vampire, Mariya the rune-user, Sara his friend and company in adventures, and a few more. Raziel, however; has only one he may end up with...

Biography: When Raziel was six years old, he came back from getting firewood as was his daily job, and as he approached home, his father yelled for him to get down. Wolves surrounded them. His father was dragged off into the forest and his mother was torn apart in front of his eyes. His last command was to protect his two younger sisters, which he does with great seriousness.

Now, every full moon, he and his sister who were both bitten by the cursed animal are transformed into werewolves, though he can assume wolf form whenever he wishes. He grew up as normally as possible, secluded from society, fearing for his family's safety. The years passed, until one day, on his twelfth birthday, his sister Sakume tried to kill him out of anger. She claimed he had done nothing to stop their parents from dying. This was not true, but she continued to try and kill him. He left the next day, and wandered the land, trying to stay away from his sister who wants to kill him.

Not too long ago, he met a young woman named Lorelei. She made strange new feelings spring up inside him. He traveled with her for a long time of nearly a year, having many adventures, and finally finding out who it was that killed her family. Lorelei had been traveling to find the being and kill them to justify their actions. Raziel realized the horrible truth after a few months. He had killed them. Even though she forgave him, he eventually left her, giving her a ring matching his, afraid that he would hurt her if he were to stay...his goal is to grow strong enough to protect the ones he loves so he'll never hurt one like Lorelei again. He still loves her with all his heart and thinks of her often.

Raziel heard rumors about a magical pearl, and it peeked his interest since he knew no one would be stupid enough to try and find it. Except for him, that is. He found the pearl, unlocked the soul kept within and briefly bonded with the lone Atlantean, although shortly after becoming deep friends with the man, was torn apart from him through the prince's death. His heart was greatly saddened by this, and it burdens him when he thinks on it. He has kept the pearl close to his heart though it is quite dull.

White Knight Short Bio:

"Lucien!" The yell boomed out among the cracked pillars, the brown-haired man groaning from the wound in his chest. "Lucien! We need you now!"

He burst through the collapsing wall, grabbing the man under one arm and dragging him out, bleeding from the forehead. "I'm here, Crionis! I'm here! This is all my fault!" He held his father's head soldier close, glancing at his world literally crumbling around him.

"Lucien, it's going to collapse! You have to do something! You must live! Live and wait! Then return! Remember the spell? The one we learned together? You can return to Atlantis within some time and revive me, and the others!"

He nodded, holding his dying friend close. "But... I can't survive this! The whole palace, all of Atlantis is going to fall!"

"Then it's up to you!" Lucien felt a hand touch his forehead and he looked into Crionis's eyes. "You have to perform that spell! Combine with someone in the future, and return! You can bring anyone back... Even me." After a short nod, Lucien, the Prince of Atlantis, whispered the last words he would hear for thousands of years.

His body disappeared, and he released a final breath, resting inside the sparkling pearl that thudded to the floor of the ruined city. He would wait... Soon, someone would find him. The first to touch the pearl would be the one he shared the body with. He would set right what he had done wrong. The White Knight would rise again.

Battle Threads:
Time's Cruel Flow (Dropped)
How Low Can You Limbo? (Dropped)
Terror Takes Your Breath Away (Dropped)
Graveyard Thrills (Completed)
Can you Tame this Fire? (Dropped)

CrossRoads:
The Pearl of the White Knight (Completed)
The Great Hickleback Hunt (Dropped)
The Great Luna Bracelet (Completed)

Training:
Raziel's Training Thread (In Progress)

Character Fics:
Shall We Dance? (Completed)
Wolf Tears (Hiatus)
Goodbye to Old, Hello to New (Completed)

Appearance for Raziel and Sakume in picture form: *made by HitokiriChibi, amazingly helpful*

Start Arlen

Name: Arlen Drago Asterling

Age: Twenty-five

Race: Half elf, half dragon prince of the west. His mother’s original husband had died in the army, strong and proud, never truly appreciating his wife as their marriage began to fade into a mere agreement instead of true love. As he left, she found another man she loved, and had relations with him a month or two afterwards, never knowing he was truly a dragon king who had become mortal form, and who died shortly afterwards, killing her real husband in the battle. The Dragon Kings are believed to consist of four separate dragons, each ruling over one of the four seas of the north, east, south, and west. Arlen’s father, Ao Run, was the dragon king of the west.

Theme Song: “Bleeding Love” – Leona Lewis

Sex: Male

Hair: Long, thin and a silvery, bright tint. It reaches to his middle back at its longest, his neck at shortest, varying length. It’s very wispy, and tends to be naturally wavy. Arlen has made a vow to never cut his hair, as he tends to like the way it looks when its long, reminding him that he is part elf, since he’s never really met many elves with shorter styles.

Eyes: They tend to be a somewhat teal color, a mix of forest greens and turquoise blue. Whereas Arlen’s body language is normally somewhat masked, his eyes tell all- they are his main form of communicating his feelings.

Weight: Arlen weighs approximately 180 lbs. His natural elfish stature of sleek, skinny body shape definitely wins out. He does have an amount of muscle, mostly located in the arms and legs regions, but no one would be able to tell.

Height: Arlen is somewhere between 5’9 and 6’2, depending on the position he stands.

Weapon:

Bow: Arlen specializes in archery, and for a good reason. Years of training and practice has left him with a steady arm and exceptional aim. He has a limited supply of arrows, handmade by his own work. Besides normal arrows, Arlen uses poisonous ones and is in the process of discovering more methods. His bow is made of a very strong metal alloy, though he isn’t sure himself of what. It’s black, so he guesses it is onyx. A pattern of leaves from an elfish herbal medicinal plant is inscribed into the handle, the string fine and taut wire.

Normal- Arlen’s arrows are each specially made to suit his needs, the tips split into three edges for more aerodynamic purposes, and the wood generally carved from oak to be very sturdy, yet light. He carries a full quiver, or about forty-five to fifty as often as possible.

Poison- Developed using some of an African frog’s venom, Arlen laces the tips of his arrows with it. If it impacts the skin, whether cut or non, it stealthily absorbs into the bloodstream, eventually leading anywhere from a simple disorientation to a complete paralysis shutdown of the body, mostly depending on the victim’s experiences with poison and whether they are strong of mind and physically fit. He tends to carry enough poison with him in order to lace about ten or so arrows.

Armor: He wears a chest plate of chain-link armor beneath his leather covering. It is magical, and cannot be pierced unless it is done by someone who cares for him as a deep friend or more. As an added punishment, he cannot remove it himself. It must be done by someone else, someone that he cares for as a deep friend or, perhaps, more. It becomes quite annoying. It covers his back as well as chest, all the way up to his shoulders. It will never rust. (More information in Bio)

Strengths: Arlen, being part elf, is naturally lithe and agile, extremely flexible and speed-oriented when it comes to battle. He knows his environment well and often takes note of it to use it to his advantage. Obviously, being able to breathe underwater can act as a plus in battle if they are near water.

The protection of his chest means none of his real vital organs can be skewered easily, apart from his brain, really, which he tends to protect generally well. He can appear good-looking to most women, which means he can make them get comfortable around him easily, if it weren’t for his attitude. He’s also very good with animals, whether taming or speaking their languages. Also, for a reason he does not know, Arlen is very durable and does not take wounds easily.

Weakness: Arlen is extremely weak in the mind by the plague of inadequacy. He feels he is inadequate at everything he does and everything he is, affecting his entire outlook on life, including his own. He is sensitive to emotions, therefore, somewhat easy to anger by insults. He is extremely loyal, and will give up his life for a friend without a second glance. He is very trusting once he gets to know a person, which makes it easy to stab him in the back.

Being very agile, he is not very strong in the physical department, although he can hold his own in a swordfight. He cannot handle a war hammer or any type of weapon larger than himself. He also feels pity for animals and tends to shy away from attacking or fighting near them. His armor also makes it difficult for him to maneuver in sand or mud, or water, weighing him down a bit.

Skills/Magic:

Breathing Underwater: Just as the skill states, Arlen has the ability to breathe underwater.

Animal Tongue: Arlen can speak to any animal just as easy as if they were human, and understand them in return.
Bottomless Pack: Arlen has a magical pack he carries, which can provide any item he wishes at his least thought, though there are limits. The items cannot be alive, and they cannot be huge. He cannot, for instance, pull out a bed, but he could pull out a sleeping bag.

Enhanced Hearing: His ears can sense greater sound than the average elf for some reason, and he can pinpoint sounds from a greater distance than a normal elf could.

Elf Knowledge: A great knowledge of herbs and plants comes along with being an elf, along with a wisdom about stars and nature in general. It can come in handy when he is wounded or needs to take shelter outdoors.
Soul Penetration: Not really a direct mind reading, but Arlen can discover things about people by simple observation, such as how rich they are, if they have family, and where they come from quicker than other people could. He has learned to read people, unless they have protected themselves.

Appearance: http://i55.photobucket.com/albums/g154/Sakume88/Elf.jpg

For those unable to see the picture (don’t know what the website links to in the pic), Arlen wears three layers of clothing. First is his chest armor, then a soft layer of clothing, and finally, his leather strapping. It covers half of his body, the left half, as he is left-handed and needs the extra stability for his bow.

The sleeve on his right half of body is silky and smooth, easily penetrated, whereas the left is covered by an olive green armor from shoulder to elbow and leather from shoulder to abdomen, straps holding it in place across the chest. It may, at first appearance, look as if he is wearing a dress, since the undershirt reaches to his ankles, but it is slit on both sides up to his waist to allow freedom and is custom for him.

His wrists to near elbow are covered in very pale green/white clothing in strips. It helps him grip his bow better and prevents sweat. His left ear has two silver hoops in it, his right none. His hair is normally free and loose, his eyes nigh-always looking at something in particular.

Actually, Arlen is considered ugly for an elf, at least from his society. His pack is normally on his back beside his bow, unless the bow is inside his pack. He also almost always has Chimeree with him. (One of his friends, described in further detail below)

Personality:

Arlen is surprisingly not like most elves are on the outside, suave and gentle. He has grown to be slightly hard, rugged and downright rude when angered. He likes those whom accept sarcasm and spit it back, to a point. He’s extremely loyal and tends to be very secretive, especially about his feelings.

He can be very funny at times, when he lets his real personality out, and he really loves innocence. He can feel pity and tends to be soft towards those whom deserve it. He really longs for someone to be close to him, but is almost afraid to do so, because of his past. He is a loner when needed, and prefers to be alone, although he is not ill-bred and knows how to be gentlemanly around company. If he could choose, Arlen prefers female company to male company, since he is slightly feminine himself. He tends to relate better to them and will open up easier when around them than if he were with men.

Arlen likes eating from the earth, so vegetables and fruits are at the top of his list, though he also likes meat, mostly deer. He hunts his own food. He appreciates good wine and will even settle for a beer now and then if he has to do so.

He dislikes animal cruelty, rudeness, and pompous people. He also finds stereotyping one of his top pet peeves. He believes that every man has good in him, but doesn’t tend to bother to find it most times. He does not believe in any particular religion, although his own elves have influenced him that their gods and goddesses are the real ones, and he tends to lean on them in his prayers.

Animal Friends:

Chimeree: His second-closest and most often around friend, named for the sound he makes when he chirps. The bird is a bit smaller than a hawk, and beautifully plumed. His tail feathers are about as long as he is, though skinny. His head is black, and his body ranges from blue to green to blue again, each a smooth, calm shade. He has an English accent as Arlen hears it, and is very fond of the elf, though he can be cheeky and unfriendly to new people.

Seaclam: An otter friend of his, the closest, yet one he sees the least. He is larger than a river otter, but he lives near the river, and has a mixture of Scottish and Irish for an accent. He cares deeply for Arlen and will protect him at any costs, since he’s known the boy since he was a “pup”. He is friendly to others after a bit of caution.

Treetiller: A beaver, gruff with no accent, and unfriendly to others. He has known Arlen for only a year or two, and likes to see the boy, though he would never let Arlen know. Arlen knows the beaver has a soft spot for him, and teases him a lot.

Nutty: A childish squirrel caught between adolescence and childhood, he found Arlen trying to steal his nut hoard in the middle of the wood, to which the elf agreed to help the squirrel hide them better. They became fast friends, and the squirrel favors Arlen greatly, almost as a best friend, though the elf finds the animal a bit too chattery and tries to avoid the beast at all costs, if it can be helped. The squirrel talks in a gangster slang accent.

(Arlen has many other animals he knows, but usually not as good as these four.)

Biography:

I can’t remember as far back as I would like to.

Maybe if I could have known the things I wish I did, none of this would be the way it is now.

I know people that learn of my past tell me not to regret. Everything happens for a purpose, they say.

I regret.

I was born in a relatively large elf environment, the town of Lorderon. So my mother told me. I know as I grew up, I had a sister. My first memory is her teasing me, holding my favorite cup out of reach. Her name is Kirathina. But for short, we call her Kira. Or I did. Most of my young memories are fond ones, as fond as normal children remember their childhood, full of games and merriment. She was always older than me, so she got to do a lot more than I did.

I was told at a young age our father died serving in the army while I was still in my mother’s womb, which was partial truth. So it was only my sister and I, and my mother. I know I didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary until I reached the first of many opportunities for recognition.

In elf society, ours, at least, there are three distinct ceremonies held for males in the town. The first is held at the age of twelve, a small feast signifying his transition from boyhood into manhood. It usually included some type of dancing, reciting from the ancient scrolls, blessings from the goddess Escata, and then a deep sleep after their first taste of the rosalin, very sweet dew saved only for the most distinguished in our society.

The second ceremony is held at the year of fifteen, when a man gains his opportunity to make his trade known to town, mostly just a meeting and announcement, really all pomp and circumstance. Unlike the first ceremony, though, the entire town is gathered.

Finally, the most important, is the seventeen year old ceremony, though most don’t reach the celebrations till eighteen. This is when you make your first kill on your own. You become the man of your household, deemed responsible and part of the society forever. It’s held with the most esteemed celebrations, the colors of the costumes more radiant than I could possibly describe in words. The dancing and joyfulness that goes on has never been rivaled.

I reached the first of the ceremonies, and had a rather small party. I didn’t
dance. But I did enjoy the festivities. Rosalin was the best part… and I don’t mean the dew.

Rosalin was a young woman in our town. I appreciated her dancing, watched it and let it sink in, step by step, movement by movement, each touch of her bare feet against the grass welding itself into my mind. She was delicate, like the flower, named specifically after the impeccable sweetness that came from it. The simple dress she wore drew weaved with her body, pink to match the color of her cheeks. Her skin glowed in the night, her serene smile giving off enough light to power our whole town, in my child’s eyes.

I swore she would be my future wife, if only a young boy’s fascination with that which he cannot truly understand. The night was young, like most of my guests, out under the willow trees we danced with the nymphs and sang praises to the spirits of the wood, swirling in the peace of the untouched paradise that was Lorderon.

That night was when it all started, the pull of my destiny tying the strings to her puppet. She asked me to dance with her the Luna Sin, a very difficult dance very few adults knew, much less a boy my age. Like the fool I was, I accepted. She led, of course, awkward enough. I said nothing the whole time; I always had been a shy boy, cast off by others as angry and bitter, where really I just never had reason to speak. Well, for once I had a reason. But I was unable to speak just the same. I was entirely terrible following her smooth synchrony of steps. Failed the dance miserably, yet she didn’t seem to notice at all.

“You danced wonderfully,” she said, her emerald eyes sparkling merrily. I had to resist the urge to correct her big, fat lie.

All I could manage was a slight blush and a small, “Thanks.” I don’t why it had to end then. I don’t know why I never noticed before then. But someone else sure did.

“Look at his ears!”

I instantly felt something was wrong by the gasps from both parents and children alike. I turned to my mother, who instantly took me inside, commenting that I must have been sick. I remember later looking in the mirror. My ears were pointed, yes, but… feathered, almost. They had small slits in them, like someone had cut some skin, webbed in a way. I… was different. That wasn’t necessarily a bad thing.

Although… Rosalin’s parents never wanted her near me again. Elves are prejudges, frightened creatures. We flee from what we cannot understand. Her parents were only doing what came natural. I did see her from time to time in school and during recess, but most of the bullies made sure I never got close enough to say anything special.

It went that way for three years, though my sister stuck with me. She defended me, made sure I made it home safe, told me all her secrets as I told her mine. Kirathina never joined them in their torturous insults, making every day fearful for me. Being so secluded gave me more reason to talk to the animals. Oh, I didn’t mention that, did I? That happened around the same time of the first growth. I could talk to them as I pleased and understand them in return, though I never really said a whole lot in fear of being shunned even more.

When the second ceremony came, I had decided on my track I would take in life. I would earn my peer’s respect. I would join the elves whom protected our town. I would become an archer in the army. So with a kiss on my sister’s cheek and a wave to my Mom, I set off with the blessings of the goddesses still ringing in my head.

It was hard, I won’t lie. Sometimes, at the end of the training, bleeding and sweaty, we would disappear over the walls to shoot a squirrel or rabbit if we were lucky. We were hungry. They fed us nothing but oatmeal mush and sometimes, if we were lucky, some bread. They said it toughened us for the lives we would lead. Well, at least they were right about that.

Night… was always lonely. I’d sit there on my bunk sometimes, thinking of my family and how idiotic it was to be separated from them when there was no real reason for it. Often, I’d think of Rosalin and her family, too. Would they be impressed with everything I’d done? … would she be? During my time of service, namely, two years, I grew stronger, wiser, and harder, though my emotions were sensitive. I’d never let anyone know. I kept quiet, for a good reason.

I was becoming less and less occupied in my training, defending myself instead. The ears were noticeable, my figure too feminine, they said. I was always talking to animals. Elves normally have connections with nature, but not many can literally speak to them.

Again, I was shunned. This time no female dared talk to me or come near me, even on outings. The others flirted, found girls to suit their needs. Myself… I flirted with the mirror.

I should have known it would end. No one ever made me feel happy… and I grew harder.

Finally, I left on my leave, intending to make my first kill, the age of seventeen. I had no doubts I would do it, after all the training. I went to the place I knew I would be safe with, the place only my sister and I knew of, our secret clearing. It wasn’t exactly secret, seeing as it was a clearing, but it meant a lot to us. Only we knew the location. Sure enough, there was the deer. I can still remember clearly the sound my arrow made, whizzing through the air. Music to my ears. The next noise… not so much.

Crunching. The deer got away. My moment. My prize. Escaped. But due to what? I turned around and I remember the surprise that jolted me, made me express my surprise even after so much stone-face training.

“What are you all doing…?”

Every male my age from the village was there, at least twenty. They didn’t look happy. “What’s… going on?” I asked, though an empty, hollow feeling began to threaten my heart’s wholeness, swallowing it piece by piece. I couldn’t take them all on at once. The fight didn’t last long. They forced me down, tying my wrists behind my back, despite my struggling. Little did I know I was being watched. “Hey! How did you find this place?!” The awful truth began to dawn even before I heard the voice.

“Sorry, Arlen.”

“I… wh-why?” I managed to whisper, tears gathering in the back of my eyes.
Kira, my older sister… my idol… my friend… she betrayed me. “Why? Think about it… you’re not an elf, brother. We can all tell. And with you hanging around tainting our name, I have no chance with any of the guys. With you out of the picture, I can get exactly what I want before Mom had to do whatever it was she did. All I know is you’re not my brother.” She brought from within her robes a small dagger. “With your blood, Escata will understand all and your sacrifice will purify the race once again.”

I was too overcome to understand it all, what she said in our native tongue. All I remember is someone coming out of nowhere, and pushing me. A scream came from someone. I fell into the river, still tied. It was too fast, and my head hit a rock in the rapids. I blacked out.

“Helloooo? Lad, wakeup! I think he’s comin’ round… give him some air now….”

I blinked a few times. The voice had a distinct accent. I couldn’t pinpoint it. I sat up and blinked, inches from a whiskered otter staring at me, standing up on two hind feet. I shook my head. I must be imagining. I hadn’t talked to animals in a while… but I’d never been able to understand them like people… just words here and there. “Did you… oh… my head…”

“Whoah, lad.” Paws steadied me. “Chimeree, you feathered pest, get down here and stop being such a coward!”

“Oi can’t ‘elp it if ‘e scares me a bit. Came out o’ nowhere, ‘e did!” The twittering of a bird came out of nowhere as I looked to a beautiful feathered animal on my shoulder. “Looks te’ me as if ‘e’s from that elf place.”

“Couldn’t be. That’s miles from here. And you recall he was breathing underwater when I found him. Couldn’t be an elf.”

“Pardon?” I asked, blinking once. “What… did you say?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, lad. I forgot to introduce mehself. I’m Seaclam. Pleased ter meet you and all that formality. This cheeky fellow is Chimeree. We pulled you out of the water, and-“

“No, I mean…” Getting myself past the fact I could talk with them clear as day, I continued, “about breathing underwater.”

“You didn’t know you could do tha’?” the bird chirped, almost in laughter. “Boy, we’ve got a good one ‘ere.”

“Why, you’ve been underwater for almost a night afore I got up the courage ter see what you were,” the otter replied. “Tain’t ever been a human that could see us like that, for so long.”

“I see…” As I stood up and stared back in the direction they pointed the town in, I felt an emptiness in my soul I’d never felt before, one that I still hope now no one feels in their life. It’s a dejected feeling, being alone. The animals must have noticed, since they were quiet for a few moments.

“…Lad?”

I looked down for a moment to see the otter touching a paw to my calf, perhaps sensing how much I needed him.

“You can’t go home… can you?”

I simply stared back in the direction they had indicted the town. Rosalin… I felt the tears threaten. That was the first time I forced them back. I refused. I would not cry… I wasn’t welcome… I wasn’t an elf. I wasn’t like them. I swore to myself, silently, I would never, ever persecute another for what they were. Never.

“Chimeree. We’re gonna keep an eye on this pup.”

From that moment on, my two best friends were Chimeree and Seaclam, like a brother and father to me, respectively. A year or two went by, and on my nineteenth year, I found I was running out of odd jobs and trinkets to make and sell. I needed help. I realized I needed a job. I applied for several, but no one hired me.

The last… I didn’t know the meaning of then. I accepted eagerly. It was only that night I truly learned what being a mercenary meant. I had the knack, they said. My… heart was hard. I began to grow numb. I did what I had to do. Until the twenty-first year. I had a special assignment, for a great reward.

That night, the air was cooler. Chimeree scouted. We found the sorceress after hunting as we normally did. She was in her cabin, as I was told she would be. I was told she was evil, not like a good witch. Completely deranged, and ugly. It was only after I knocked down her door, an arrow set to pierce between her eyes, I noticed how wrong they were. For a moment, we just stared at one another. Time slowed down, and my arrow lowered from my bow. I said nothing. How could I?

“Arlen… you’re alive.”

“… Yeah.”

“… Aren’t you going to shoot me?”

“… No.” Each pause seemed to extend the already painful silence.

“Why?” She looked into my eyes. I looked away, and began to leave. I had no choice. She extended a hand and began to head for the stove in the corner. “Please! Arlen… stay? Eat?... please?”

Against my better judgment, I sat at the table, talked only when necessary. It was my training, my years of hardening. How I wanted to talk. “Good dinner.” That was all I could say.

“Arlen…” She reached out, tried to touch my hand. I took it away, made her flinch. Seeing her hurt expression was more than I could bear. I replaced my hand for hers to rest on, and she did so, but seemed to be tracing my palm, as if reading it.

“Why, Rosalin?” I asked finally, staring at my hand, hers touching it, sending shockwaves of attachment and other now-uncomfortable feelings through my brain.

“I’m just reading your palm…” she whispered, tracing a few lines.

Even now, she just had to be difficult, didn’t she? “No, Rosalin. I mean… why are you…”

“A sorceress?... Not a very good one, I’m afraid…” She looked up at me a little, though I kept my gaze down. “I thought… I thought if I learned magic… maybe I could wish you back. That was a long time ago, though… and if you came to kill me… you might as well do it… I’m not going home… not now. They would try something else.”

I swallowed in my anger. They had… done things to her, too? “Rosalin…”

“Arlen… I heard… what happened. It was everywhere.”

“…Is… my mother…”

“She is safe… she misses you. She has given me something… she thought if anyone would meet you… I would… but… Arlen… did… your sister…”

“I have no sister.”

“Arlen, look at me…” Her grip increased, but I didn’t look. “Look at me!” I slowly lifted my head, before her hand grabbed my chin, forcing me up. “Did… your sister hurt you? I felt it… I feel it even now, Arlen. Your bitterness has hardened you. You’re not who you should be. You’ve… let go of what you want…”

“Why is it so important to you to patronize me?”

I saw the hurt reflected behind those emerald orbs, the way she felt as if I had just run her through, like any of my targets in my line of work. “Because…”

“Do you want do smother whatever’s left of my heart? Is that why?”

“Because I love you!” she burst, tears glistening in her angered state, her hands pounded on the table.

“… I can’t love.” I hated myself. I loathed everything I must have seemed to her… I wanted to love her. I wanted to tell her I loved her more than anything, that living without her all these years was like not be able to breathe. I just… couldn’t.

“Arlen… she hurt you. Deeply. They all did. Your heart is so delicate…” She pursed her lips a little. “I… know… you need time. More time. It will take a while… won’t it? But I know… we’re meant to be one. That portion of me will not allow harm to come to you. However, you did barge into my cabin… meaning to kill me… so I must do something to ease this burden. To show you what you are becoming, before it’s too late…”

She prodded her chin with her finger. “I know.” She leaned forward, and before I could stop her, she ripped open my shirt and placed a hand on my chest, whispering.

It was elvish language, but dark magic. Not evil, persay, but more of a forbidden magic, something for only desperate souls. I inhaled quickly at a lurch of pain shocking my system, just for a moment. I saw her remove her hand, but I never felt it. “What…” I placed a hand where hers had been, looking down at my chest. It was covered in a silver chain-like mail, cool to my touch, in fact, almost icy. “What… did you do to me?” I was surprised at the anger in my voice.

She looked at me and bowed her head slightly. “Arlen… this is a symbol of your hardness. From this point on, you shall carry that mail on your heart. It will hide it away from anyone, behind the same bitterness I feel from you now, and protect it from being hurt anymore as you wish for so deeply.”

“What…”

“No one but those whom you love will be able to pierce the armor, and you will not be able to remove it yourself. Only one that loves you may remove it from your body. This is my gift to you, my curse to you.”

“You…” I felt the anger build.

“Here, Arlen.” She spread her arms slightly, standing up. “Do you want to shoot me? Go ahead. Prove to me that there’s no hope left for you.”

My arrow, so fast, nearly flew. Something held me back. How… could I shoot her? Still wearing my stoic expression, I began to walk to the exit. “Goodbye, Rosalin.”

And so I have traveled for years, waiting, hoping that I can remove the armor somehow, but nothing has happened. Nothing has changed. The armor still hides my heart, even from me. I once loved Rosalin. But now I cannot feel love… what will become of me? Where do I go from here? I wander, taking on mercenary jobs when needed and staying at peace, the only friends of mine the animals. I need more. I know there is more to life. But how can I get it?

…I regret.


Kate Begin

Name: Katherine Anne Aleski (Though she’s normally called Kate for short).

Age: Six (And a half, she claims, though in reality just barely six).

Race: Human

Sex: Female

Hair: Short, just below her neck, it’s a light, almost auburn color. It’s soft and smooth after it’s washed, but gets to be dirty easily with all her playing outside.

Eyes: A pretty blue color, they almost appear dark purple at times.

Weight: 37 pounds (She’s a little underweight.)

Height: 3’4. (She’s also slightly short.)

Weapon: A small dagger, about nine inches long including the hilt. The blade is six inches. She keeps it either in her pocket, sheathed, or on a belt around her, only because she’s forced to just in case she needs to protect herself. In case of emergency, she uses anything to defend herself.

Armor: None.

Strengths: It goes without saying that one of her strengths is simply looking too defenseless for anyone to attack her, since she’s only a little girl. Being as small and light as she is, she can easily hide from atta