hailthenarc: (Default)
MUSE LIST MUSE LIST WEE WOO WEE WOO

 
🢒🢒 BLACK HAT [personal profile] obscenilicious

DOUCHEIR THAN YOUR MOMS SUMMERS EVE
 
🢒🢒 JACK SPARROW (CAPTAIN) [personal profile] missing1ship

SLIGHTLY LESS DOUCHEY. OFF BRAND SUMMERS EVE

 
🢒🢒 JARLAXLE BAENRE [personal profile] acheat

ON THE SLIDING SCALE OF DOUCHES WE HAVE REACHED THE GENTLE NATURAL NEW AGE MOON WATER DOUCHE
 
🢒🢒 CASSIAN LYNCH [personal profile] feckinboomstick

WARNING. FAKE DOUCHE.

 
🢒🢒 SZELHAMOS [personal profile] sarcastass

THE RIDE NEVER ENDS, WE HAVE AN INFINITE STORE OF DOUCHEBAGS, GO BACK TO START
 
🢒🢒CAMAEL [personal profile] thegoodthief

FOOL'D U RIDES OVER EVERYONE OUT. A beautiful man too good too pure
code by cawaii
hailthenarc: (Default)


SQUIDS GROSS MUSELIST


Jarlaxle Baenre
» [personal profile] acheat «
Forgotten Realms


CHARACTER
» [personal profile] missing1ship «

Pirates of the Caribbean


Wade Wilson/Deadpool
» [personal profile] fukkinawesome «

Marvel Comics


Soundwave
» [personal profile] robocreep «

Transformers Prime


hare Becile
» [personal profile] snaptrap «

Steam Powered Giraffe (Fanon OC made by Surge)


Reinhardt Wilhelm
» [personal profile] hammernhasslehoff «

Overwatch


ZIM
» [personal profile] spaceroach «

Invader ZIM
hailthenarc: (Default)
Today wasn’t really a good day. Not for poor Sammy.

Sammy, to his credit, didn’t actually want to hurt the man they’d been sent after. True, he looked like any rich asshole CEO, complete with a custom made Italian suit, perfect hair and a smile like a used car salesman. That made him pretty unlikable. Until Sammy had finally put his finger on why those douche bag sunglasses looked so familiar in his picture.

Those weren’t glasses made to be seen through.

By the time Sammy had gotten into the car with his compatriots and headed down the road, all the pieces had snapped into place about just who the boss had sent them after this time.

They were kidnapping a fucking blind man. A blind man! Rich or not, the man was clearly a cripple. Maybe he inherited all that money for that look? They’d been informed that he was wealthy, and whatever they managed to dig out of his pockets when they snagged him was fair game. Hell, that suit was fair game as well, the boss, Trench, had been pretty clear he didn’t really intend on letting their catch keep any sort of clothing for too long.

Dismally, Sammy had to agree that the man was quite handsome. It stirred parts of him, but whatever crude and shriveled conscience Sammy had left informed him he should still sort of feel like a shithead for going after a blind man. Still, that half dead, mostly inoperable conscience did pretty much nothing to keep him from his lead foot habit, and the most he really did was take a slightly more scenic route to one of the hits favorite and highly habitual locations. The man seemed to thrive off patterns and repetition, and today was, apparently, no different than the day before today, and the day before that, and the day before that.

Midday, twelve o’clock noon on the spot, as he’d done for weeks and weeks before now, that fancy snot sauntered out of a high end cafe with an expensive coffee, an excitable little corgi bouncing along beside him. Oddly, no leash... But then, Sammy supposed, not all blind people needed service dogs, right? He had that stupidly ornate cane of his. Sammy immediately noted from the car he sat in across the street that the grasp seemed to be made of gold, and there was a murmur through the back on who was going to get that nice shiny little bauble. There was going to be a fight after they snagged him, that was for sure.

Once more, as the man had done day after day, he made a sharp left towards a quiet, mostly uninhabited park. Lots of forest to wander about in.

Must like the crinkle of the leaves, Sammy supposed quietly as the car was parked near the entrance to the park, and the small collection of men, four in total, filed out of the car. Just enough room for one more.

In the trunk.

Sammy himself stayed behind, someone had to be ready to gun it at a moments notice after all. He lit a cigarette and reclined in the car a bit, snagging the picture of their hit to study him a bit closer.

The man was tall, slender. Very fit, apparently, though there’d not been a single snapshot of the man with anything less than a full suit on. Not even jeans.

Fancy fucker, he remarked internally, trying to work up just a little more personal dislike of this character before he really got his hands on him. Just so he wouldn’t feel too bad doing what usually happened to people that interfered with Trench’s little pet project.

Long legs, all elegant and regal. Perfect slicked back hair. His skin seemed a touch off... What was the issue with it? Too gray? Maybe a bit on the yellow side... Probably wasn’t in the best health, but that wasn’t a surprise considering the state of his eyes. Maybe some congenital thing. Hope it was and not something communicable, as Sammy’s hand gently eased its way under his belt and into his pants.

He wondered what he sounded like. Was it an obnoxious, high pitched snotty upstarts voice? Or was he as slick as he looked? With a charming voice, something worth listening to. Listening to him talk, yell, beg, scream-

Probably not a good idea to make a mess in the car yet, he figured. The other guys would never shut up if he straight out jizzed his pants here before he ever laid a hand on the man. They really should have been back by now, honestly. How hard could it be to grab one single blind man in the woods? Not even a gunshot for that shitty little lap dog of his.

His cigarette was nearing its end too, and now he was appropriately horny and annoyed. Just as he went to stub out the cigarette, leaning down into the car a bit to do so, the last time he didn’t pay attention to what he was doing he set something on fire, the car door opened in the back, and then slammed shut.

“Finally, asshole. It’s been almost ten fucking minu-” Sammy lifted his head up to look in the rear view mirror, but the person who’d settled into the back, his expression sour and sharp, was not a single one of the men who’d wandered into the forest after the man.

No.

No that was the blind man himself, crossing his legs at the knee, that obnoxious dog comfortably seated next to him and staring at Sammy with the most fiery, orange and red stare he’d ever seen on a dog. Dog eyes shouldn’t be that color-

Any other words poor Sammy might have had for the man in the back died on his lips as the man leaned forward, tendrils of obscenely sweet, heady smoke curling from a mouth that was perhaps a touch too wide, the corners almost threatening to vanish under the dark glasses as the man- No the thing, bared a set of gleaming, jagged, needle like teeth in a feral famicile of a smile.

“Drive. Apparently, I have a date today.”

That voice. That smooth, smokey, spine chilling voice, like silk soaked in whiskey. Sammy’s foot hit the pedal, the pedal slammed to the floor, as the scent of opium filled his nostrils and slowly turned off his brain.

Drive.

We have a date.
hailthenarc: (Default)
You wouldn't think so, considering New York is such a northern state, and our little town is so close to New York City, a liberal capital of the nation and almost first in progressive thinking and breaking the mold, but most of us upstate are pretty conservative. Deeply religious, in fact. Me and my parents have been going to church every day since the day I was born, just a little Protestant church a few blocks away from the school here. Everyone in town goes each and every week, and after we all enjoy a little snack, some bagels, a brownie, a cup of coffee or juice.

It's pretty odd to be anything but Christian up here, which is why Harold gained such attention when he moved here from California. First of all he was just... tan. It made him a very popular man among the younger girls here, a nice golden tan, the body of a god, bleach blond hair and bright green eyes. He could have cut the image of a king the way he strode down the sidewalk and drove his vintage cars around town. He said he was a lawyer who had moved to New York to 'experience the seasons'. Didn't know California didn't have seasons, but I've never been too far out of state, so I didn't bother asking.

I remember the first day I saw him outside of his house on my way back from church one Sunday. He was mowing the lawn, which was a bit odd for anyone in town on Sunday, all things considered. A lawn chair wasn't too far away with some beer in the cup holder, and a few passing older patrons of the church snubbed him and hustled past faster. I just leaned on his fence and called out to him.

"Hey, Harold. Didn't see you in church today, why didn't you get your lawn on Saturday?" It seemed like a valid question to me, but Harold just laughed, shaking his head and leaning on his now silent lawn mower.

"Damn, Nichole, I had other stuff to do yesterday! I have all of today to get the lawn done, is God gonna hit me with a lightning bolt for doing house work?" My nose wrinkled a bit at the tone. A subtle chiding to it, as if he were speaking to an especially dull adult or small child.

"I think God is a bit more inventive than that." I answered back with a shrug, and Harold just laughed again, going to take a sip from his beer.

"I didn't take you for one of the other scared old ladies here, Nik. You're twenty five not eighty six."

"I'm not scared. I just want to show a little respect that's all." Harold didn't seem to be taking any of this seriously, spreading his arms out wide.

"Look, if God didn't want me mowing my lawn and drinking my beer on a Sunday, I'm sure he'd set me on fire or attack me with an angel or something. Look, Nik, standing right here, with my beer and my lawn mower on a Sunday. Hey God! Where are you? I'm doing household chores and drinking alcohol on your day off!" He waved his arms around, gaining some more flabbergasted attention from some more easily offended senior citizens. I just stretched and waved.

"Tell me when God gets back to you on that, Harold." No reason to get upset about it, I never thought it was that big of a deal.

Now, in things that are slightly more of a big deal, my mother is the nurse here in our tiny little town. A college trained professional who helps our local EMT squad. Sometimes, when someone in town has a medical issue, and needs someone to look at it for free before they spend money on their illness, they'll head to my mom for an opinion. I bring this up, because not but seven days later, Sunday again, we got a knock on the door. I answered it, and there was Harold. Now, it was the dead heat of summer at the time, ninety degrees out, and though I knew southern California was hotter than here, it still seemed especially odd Harold was in a cable knit sweater and slacks.

"Hey! Nik!" I focused on a bead of sweat gently rolling down his tanned face, hanging on the end of stubble that was just starting to appear. He never liked hair on any part of him but his head from what I've seen of his running around town. Odd.

"You running a fever or something, Harold?" The question seemed to fit the bill, I indicated his sweater, and he laughed nervously. Almost a titter, actually.

"Yeah, something along those lines. Is your mom at home?" He kept shifting his weight, reaching to scratch at his hidden arms and chest. Maybe it was shingles then, but I was no nurse.

"Just a sec-" Mom wasn't too hard to find, and she ushered him into the bathroom, due to how loud he protested about showing her where everyone could see. After a moment, he was pushed back out, looking overheated, but relieved, my mom patting him on the back.

"This is why you don't remove hair like that, Harold. Ingrown hairs are pretty common. Just don't pop them and you'll be fine." He turned red, but hustled out the door. Well, that would explain it. Maybe that was why the stubble was there, just learned the hard way.

It wouldn't be for another few days before I would see Harold again, but this time in the dead of night. See, I work at odd hours, and I only get to walk my dog after the sun goes down due to them, and it was right about where Harold's house was that I caught sight of him again. At least... well I assumed it was him. Harold was a typically muscular young man, but the figure I saw pawing and fumbling at the door didn't look quite like him. The moonlight caught limp, damp blond hair, roots just starting to show, and it certainly looked like his facial profile, perhaps with just a few thick odd strands hanging from it. Strange, I didn't think beards grew that fast.

I crept in closer, the dog busy with pissing his little brains out all over the nearby rhododendron bushes.

At first I thought he was wearing another thick, woolly sweater, this time with some woolly pants to match, considering all the yarn hanging off it. Until the yarn started to curl and twitch. My breath caught in my throat.

Harold was naked. Shivering and naked, panting and hissing at the door as the glow of the moon cast an eerie spotlight on him.

His once powerful body, one that was alikened to royalty, was seething with quarter inch thick, twistiing white worms. Worms, everywhere, pus white worms writhing on his hands and palms, worms twitching and burrowing in the flesh of his thighs and legs, worms curling up at his chin to brush his lips and jam themselves past his chattering teeth, where they would pop and ooze thick white fluid. The side walk oozed with pus and blood, glistening on his doorstep and his once smooth skin.

I almost forgot what was happening until my dog starting crying and trying to walk away without me, apparently I'd been ignoring him for too long.

In an instant, The Thing That May Be Harold turned its head, its eyes bulging, its mouth twisted in an expression of madness and anguish. Like a wounded animal it made an aborted lunge for me. Now, I've never been very athletic before. I ran the mile in twenty minutes in high school and I've settled on never exerting myself for no reason ever again.

Well I had a reason. I ran that mile in five minutes, I'm sure of it, though when I got home I was wheezing and panting and gibbering almost as badly as The Thing That May Be Harold. Poor little dog had never worked his tiny fat legs so much in his life, and we both collapsed into bed.

The ambulance had a call that night, and my mom was oddly grave and quiet and the breakfast table. Aside from the sleep deprivation, I knew why.

Very interesting story in the paper the next day. Just in the obituaries, poor Harold had been found outside his house, dead from 'diabetic complications'.

I went to church that Sunday and said a little prayer for poor Harold. Something tells me he's going to be needing it.
hailthenarc: (Default)
My father always told me that first impressions are the most important things. Always be polite, keep yourself well groomed, try not to smell like a dumpster, and no matter how offensive the other person gets, never stoop to their level. Above all, always be kind, for everyone you know is fighting a harder battle. I try to keep this in mind every day of my life, and while it has gotten me into some unfortunate situations, it's saved me from more things than it's started.

One day, I took a road trip down state, towards New York City. It was a big day, I packed my bags, kissed my mother goodbye, stuck my little chihuahua mix in the back seat and headed down. I was your typical young woman having an adventure away from home, the music blasting in my beat up old car, windows down, yelling off key along to the lyrics like I was staring in some stupid coming of age movie, so on and so forth.

My mother had impressed on me the importance of staying safe along the road. Wear your seat belt, don't text and drive, always top off the tank when it gets low, and never, ever stop for any hitchhikers on the way there. I swear, I was going to do this. I really was. I never wanted to disobey my mother, but when I saw that man on the side of the road, his thumb stuck out, his worn, grizzled features, dirty stubble and old clothes, my heart ached. I couldn't let him sit out there. No one could be that cruel.

I pulled over for him immediately, popping open the door for the man and smiling.

"Need a lift?" I asked with a grin, patting the drivers seat. I remember he smelled like cheap whiskey and piss as he pushed his way into the car. He was so tall he could barely fit, and had to push the seat back all the way in order to get some decent leg room. With the sun starting to creep down across the sky, I peeled rubber and headed out again. Remembering my fathers words, I started to talk to him, cheerfully chatting about current events and what was going on in my life.

He was reserved, quiet. A soft spoken man with a gravely rumbling voice, like he gargled with gasoline and gravel. He was on hard times, he said. His wife had left him and vanished with their daughter, he'd lost his job, all his money, his parents were dead, and supposedly the doctors had told him he was slowly dying of lung cancer, a payment for smoking since he was a teen. He was going into the city in order to try and get a new job, a construction job working on a new business firm. He was sure this was going to be what turned everything around for him.

At that moment, I was so thankful I'd taken him in, feeling a sort of motherly affection, despite his advanced age over me. By this point, the sun had sunken over the hills, and the light of the other cars had dimmed. We had just reached an area that was heavily wooded, close to some national park apparently, when my passenger demanded we stop.

"I have to piss." He grunted, and of course, I happily pulled over to the side of the road. I wasn't prepared for when he grabbed my hair, and dragged me from my seat, pulling me towards the woods on the other side of the car. But... I remembered my father at all times. No screaming, no hitting. I just pleaded with him, my feet skidding over the ground.

He didn't want to do this, I tried to reason with him. Whatever he was planning, he wasn't going to like the end result, I could get him to where he needed if he just-

At that point, he hurled me to the ground, removing a filthy knife from the inside of his coat.

"I'm sorry." He mumbled thickly, his eyes glowing with madness and lust. "Gotta. I gotta. Ain't got a choice anymore, you'll go to heaven, don't worry-"

... I wish I could tell you that someone came and was a hero here. I wish I could say that no one was hurt, and that I managed to get to the city.

... I stumbled back to my car, drunken and dizzy.

He'd apparently had a lot to drink before he got here, and it was so hard for me to pick the shards of bone and hair out of my teeth that I couldn't even bother. I hoped I wouldn't be pulled over before I got to a rest station. My little dog, bless him, was still waiting for me in the car, he knows how things get sometimes, and knows he always gets something for being patient.

I forgot what I grabbed, but it was pretty heavy, and tossed the slab of organ meat back at him, which he eagerly started to gnaw on.

Always be polite. Always be kind.

"Daddy's gonna be pissed." I slurred as I fumbled with my phone.

"Fifth time this month too, mom's gonna be so upset."
hailthenarc: (Default)
For a few months in my life, I lived with my Uncle and my Aunt in their house while I attended college. It was close by, I needed a house, and my aunt was desperately in need of someone that wasn't her husband in the house to stave off the encroaching insanity, so I willingly volunteered to live there with her. I say this like it was a hard thing to do, because it was. My aunt is a delightful human. She's wonderful, a saint. A little cracked, got some weird ideas about demons living in my brain, she thinks God is sitting in heaven with a sniper rifle waiting for someone to fuck up but other than that, a perfect human.

It was my uncle who was the problem. My uncle, who we will just refer to as 'uncle', had some interesting, similar beliefs along with aunt. Like that it was totally okay, if not expected, for an average, non-military or police human being living in rural New York in a relatively densely populated area, to own and use a goddamn AK-47 assault rifle. Because that's fine, right? He told me that I wasn't allowed to mention this gun to anyone else and that it was the worlds biggest most well kept secret. I feel it prudent to mention the only reason I brought it up was that I kept tripping over the damn thing because he left it in the middle of the floor. Just literally, all the time. No cabinet, no locks. Just there propped up on the floor and if he wanted to pretend it wasn't there he'd put a blanket on it. This is, of course, how we all hide our secrets, we either put them under our mattress or we drape a quilt over it and loudly proclaim we have no idea what everyone is looking at.

But whatever, uncle. I'll pretend the AK-47 human lawnmower doesn't exist. I'll deal with the no alcohol thing too, up until it means 'no cough syrup'. Uncle, what kind of slavering, gibbering drug maniac do you think you'll turn into if you have a medicine cup of cough syrup? I wasn't allowed to have cough syrup either, lest I fall into the heathenish evil ways of alcohol and chug the entire bottle of cough syrup in a violent, booze induced rage. Mouthwash was out for the same reason, because we're all just one gargle and rinse away from being hairy dirty hobos cannibalizing our fellow hobo's faces and living in Sears boxes.

Okay uncle.

I would like to think I tolerated uncle very nicely, until the day uncle told me that he didn't like the fact that I was mentally ill in his house. Specifically, he didn't like the fact that I took medication for the mentally ill in his house. Now, here was uncle's rationalization for kicking his poverty level college student niece out of his house: If I stayed in his house... the government would take his guns.

...

Now, it's moments like this that make me feel as if the people who talk to themselves aren't actually the craziest people you've ever met. I talk to myself, and in doing so, I learn things about myself. Things like 'wow, if I say this thing right here, I sound completely, totally, and absolutely butt gargling insane!'

Uncle never had that moment of clarity. Uncle never sat down with himself, and discussed the matter of our Governor personally sending a SWAT team into his house to repossess all of his shooty toys because the 24 year old girl in his house takes a pill. Uncle never ran this idea over in his head, thought about the amount of other, far more crazy people living in New York, all the crimes and drug rings, and arsonists and rapists and underfunded schools and terrorists and actually real crimes going on in New York, and thought 'Maybe this isn't as big a thing as I thought.'

Nope, no definitely the bald guy with a bad back in upstate New York living with a sad 20 year old is top priority for our local government, send a SWAT team, a tank, three helicopters and every man in the NYPD to descend upon his house and steal away all his guns.

Why would you need a military assault rifle in Upstate New York anyway? What on earth do you think is going to happen? What goes through your mind, what happens to get you to that point? You know what the most dangerous person we commonly have in Upstate New York is? Crack and Heroine addicts. You know who also doesn't have a lot of money, forethought or weapons? Crack and heroine addicts. If a crack addict breaks into your house, he's probably ninety pounds soaking wet. Why? Because he's a crack addict, that money doesn't go into non essential things like food and a gym membership. We're lucky he put on pants for this endeavor, if he even has pants at all, because you cannot smoke pants. Or underwear.

You also cannot smoke a really cook high powered gun, so chances are cracky is going to sneak in brandishing anything he can pick up in the house. Like an ax or a butcher knife. Crack addicts are also not well known for delicately planning and executing a break in. Here's a list of other things crack addicts aren't good at:

Literally anything including holding still, speaking English, walking in a straight line and being immune to bullets.

They're really bad at that bullet thing.

Actually, it's proven it doesn't take a bazooka to the face to kill a crack addict! Like a gun will work! One gun, a shot gun or a hand gun will kill your average naked house breaking crack addict in literally one hit. One hit! One bullet and then you can sit down and call the cops and that's the end of Cracky's grand house burglarizing adventure!

Why an AK-47. We don't live in Mad Max. There aren't roving bands of violent, depraved rapists with cannons strapped to their cars who are going to show up at your house and demand all your food and women. Al Pancino hasn't been secretly plotting to destroy you, and yes, probably cause ends at 'decapitating another person by the sheer amount of bullets you shot at him'.

That's what a crazy person would do.

'The government will take my guns', he may as well have told me I have to leave because the lizard people can smell my blood. That is literally, just as sensible as the government taking his guns, and probably a lot more likely.

'No I need these anti-aircraft guns. For the lizard people.'
hailthenarc: (Default)
What's with this trend of giving Optimus Prime/Megatron/Soundwave/KNOCK OUT/ect a goddanm OC girlfriend. What part of their interactions with literally anyone makes you think that the first thing they need in their life is a robot vagina? asidefrommegatron

At best none of them are even interested in sex. Because they are robots. Which are not for sex, in case you missed that lesson. At the fandom worst, they're all goddamn gay because 90% of Cybertronians are male. Case in Point: List of all female canon tranformers are: Chromia, Nautica, Moonrunner, Arcee, Windblade, Airachnid and if you include TFA, Red Alert and Elita One, which brings our grand total of well known female transformers to a stunning number of... eight. Eight ladies. For the goddamn eighteen billion dudes wandering around in the Transformers franchise. Which either means all the Transformers are even more Patriarchal than earth or fucking GOR, or there just aren't that many ladyformers. Willing to lean towards the latter rather than the former.

So why? Or rather, why add an important member of a canon characters life to a canon OC that has well established close relations with someone else? Why do that? Why? Do you understand what that is doing?

You're making random shit up! You didn't even read the canon-

A fanfic makes TF G1 Arcee the big bad villain so OP can bone ~Novawhisper~, the strange yet alluring femme from the dark side of Cybertron who is as beautiful as she is mysterious. WHY DO THAT? Yeah Arcee is a fucking psychotic murderous nutball. In another universe. Why make that the canon standard in the campy adorable kids friendly G1 show, that's like introducing Princess Molestia into goddamn G1 My Little Pony.

That's like making Actual Bible Canon real in Supernatural. Y'know, no. No. I'm going to do that, let me go do that. Let's take someone well known and well loved, let's say... Castiel. Okay. Now, lets make him Bible Canon.

Oh? What's that? There is no Bible Canon for Castiel because he was just some fucking Bible fanfiction made a few hundred years later by an overly invested fanboy? He's just a name on a list? That's okay, we'll make some shit up.

Let's see, he was a Warrior Of Earth or whatever. Well that's fine, let's pick out something cool for him. Let's say... an AK 47. Yeah, that's it. Perfect. Castiel, the Warrior of Earth, with an AK 47. But that's not nearly cool enough he has to have a sword. So lets give him a sword. But not just any sword, it has to be an amazing, all powerful, magic BIBLE sword. Lets see, what do we know about swords and the Bible. Someone important had a sword. Goddamnit who was it, I slept through Sunday School-

David. He was a king right? He had a sword! ... He had a slingshot? ... Fuck that pussy noise, he's getting a sword now. Or rather, Castiel is getting the sword that I gave to David just for the sake of giving Castiel a sword. Okay now he has a sword. But that sword isn't good enough. No, it has to be a katana. That shit's been folded over a million times it can cut diamonds right? Or at least David's katana can. Shut up, Jewish people had katanas back in 2000 BC or whatever right? Right. Damascus metal? What the fuck is that, get that shit outta here, katanas are king.

Okay so now Castiel has super awesome weapons, but he needs more. He needs super awesome powers. He can already fly, duh, and he's super fast because.... angels. And he's super strong because... angels. WARRIOR OF HEAVEN KEEP UP. He's so strong he can shoot his AK 47 and swing his katana at the same time without any repercussions. No recoil or anything he's fucking amazing. Subtlety? Blending in with society? NO WAY MAN.

I'm giving him BRIGHT BLOND FLOWING HAIR. LONG HAIR. FABIO HAIR. And skin as whiet as alabaster. Fuck being Arabic, that's not canon, everyone knows angels are all canonly white as hell. God's chosen people are all Caucasian. And his eyes look like CATS EYES. ANd they CHANGE COLOR WITH HIS MOODS. Fuck am I original. Okay, great, and his wings change color too! Not with his moods though, they change color based on... um... based... on...







based on who he's boning HIS STATE OF LOOOOOVE.

AND HE IS FUCKING BOTH WINCHESTERS. AND LUCIFER LOVES HIM BUT IS SO JEALOUS. AND HE IS GOD'S FAVORITE ANGEL MORE FAVORITED THAN JESUS. OR GABRIEL. OR ANYONE. FOREVER. AND HE FUCKED GOD. AND HAD HIS BUTTBABY WHO IS THE NEW MESSIAH.

im the best writer ever.

4 u

Oct. 19th, 2014 02:18 pm
hailthenarc: (Default)
Another loud, noisy, loud night at the Goldshire tavern, filled to the brim with drinking, singing, table flipping drunks, congregating around tables with flagons of beer or mead. Though most of the nights patrons were human, there were the occasional flickers of other beings. A short, pink haired gnome here, an elegant, finely shaped night elf there. Goldshire attracted all kinds at this time of night, and a weary, thirsty traveler from any corner of the Alliance could find a bed here.

Well, anyone who wanted one. Heavy hoof falls announced a bigger, more exotic patron, and a few glanced to the door expectantly after they identified the sound of rugged, shod hoofs. Draeneis, a newer species to Azeroth, were always an interesting sight in Goldshire. Just hearing them approach was often a spectacle, they were all so tall and powerfully built. The door darkened, and then light caught the bright gold and silver armor of a very, very tall, muscled and armed paladin. He had to duck to get into the bar, and the tips of his horns just barely scraped past, his thick tail whacking the doorframe once and actually managing to take a notch out of it. He was absolutely huge, and built like a draft horse. How else could he carry all that thick, shining armor? Or that massive amethyst hammer clasped to his back. A two handed weapon usually, but with someone like him? He might have been able to swing it with one.

It was a welcome sight though. Mostly because when he came in, the first thing he did was break out in a massive, welcoming, gleeful, if fanged grin. He spread his arms widely, and announced in somewhat broken, heavily accented Common,

“Hello my friends! I come with much gold, and everyone gets one round! Gifts for all of you, a wonderful evening to everyone!” Well if it was loud before, it was a goddamn roar now. He was now, officially, the most popular person in the entire tavern, and he had to swim through an army of cheering, back patting warriors, mages, paladins and shamans to get to the bar wench and pay her for all the drinks. Which he did, handily, with an entire bulging purse of gold. Well, the barwench could tell the paladin had already had a bit to drink, something exceptionally powerful too, if he was so keen to spend his money like this: His face was flushed, and while he didn’t stumble, there was a particular weaving to his gait. He settled at a table packed with other warriors and paladins, and ordered a flagon of mead for himself, prepared to spend the entire night with kindred spirits.

But someone else had heard the loud announcement, and was now fluttering around by the massive draeneis chair. Tall, but not like the blueblood, a mere six foot four in comparison. With pale purple skin and azure hair, he might have cut just as exotic a figure as the draenai. And he was very, very interested in the massive paladin. He casually slipped up behind him, at first attempting to rest his chin on a shoulder. Until he realized he... couldn’t... quite... reach it. Okay no that method of seduction wasn’t going to work, he couldn’t whisper into an ear if he couldn’t get up there and it was considerably less sexy to have to climb a potential date. So, he swept around to the front instead, leaning against the paladin’s arm and trailing thin fingers down the armor. ... It really almost looked like the big guy didn’t even notice he was there, still loudly talking with his fellow paladins. So, the elf eventually cleared his throat loudly. ... Still didn’t notice. Fine then.

“Hey there,” Spoken a little louder than he had to, giving one of the gauntleted hands a squeeze. That finally seemed to get his attention, and glowing blue eyes looked his way, brightening a little. “There you are, handsome. Struck it rich tonight, huh?” It took a moment for the gears to start turning in his already pretty soaked brain, but he at least caught on to the gist of what was going on. Sort of. He nodded eagerly, gesturing towards the entire table of alcohol.

“Yes! It was a very good night, very rewarding. I fought many times and defeated many foes. I come to celebrate! Have you gotten a drink yet?” Okay no he didn’t get it. Well, draenais did have legendarily thick skulls. The elf looked at him flatly, before pressing the issue a little further, reaching out to gently trace a cheek.

“I got one, thanks, big guy. Real sweet of you. So... is what they say about draenais true?” Everyone knew the general rumor about them after all. With great size came... well... great size. Again, answering took a moment, though most of the rest of the table got it at this point, grinning and snickering amongst themselves as slowly, realization dawned on him. Wait what about what they said- oooooh. Oh. Okay no now he got it alright. The blank look was configuring itself into something else now. A little more smug, a little more satisfied. Someone here thought he was handsome, yes. He was handsome, he was really handsome actually. And it had been a very, very long time since he’d last been able to share a bed with someone. He settled back in his chair, making it creak a little under his considerable weight.

“Maybe. I have not heard.” He took a deep swig of his drink, before setting it down with a loud thump. “They say many things about draenai. Many good things, I hear. You think you need proof?” The elf smirked, pressing against the draenai’s arm a bit.

“I might need to check you out a little better, yeah. Hate to think I was being lied to you know.” The elf reached up to tug on one thick black braid, trying to coax the big lug into tilting his head down his way. He complied, and he finally got the chance to whisper into one pointed ear: “I want to see you squirm under me.” Now, that caused the giant to pause... and then break out in loud, hearty, raucous laughter.

“Ah! You have mistaken me my friend! It would not work, I am so sorry!” He could barely speak through his laughter, guffawing and giving the table a good smack. “It would not ever work, you are not the right size! Much too small, too cute! It would work better the other way, yes?” The elf stared at him, and the draenai stared back, grinning from ear to ear with that intensely amused look on his face. Okay... not the reaction he was expecting, but the elf puffed himself up immediately, tugging on the braid again.

“Don’t count me out, big guy. You have no idea what I’m packing. What, you don’t think you can take me?” The table let out a collective ‘ooooooh’, looking back over at the paladin, who calmly picked up his tankard and took another swig from it.

“I do not wish to fall asleep on you. Would be very rude, yes?” The gauntlet had been thrown then. The elf grabbed his arm, attempting to tug the massive tank of a draenai out of his chair.

“In five minutes I could have you screaming-!”

“In laughter?”

“Don’t be a massive prick-”
“Someone has to have one!”

“STOP INTURRUPTING ME.” The table was beside themselves with mirth, the paladin not even budging from his place at the table as he continued to egg on his shorter, shouting companion. It seemed to be a very serious matter for the elf and... well... Well what was the draenai going to lose by agreeing? At most, he’d get a warm body to hug while he slept at night. Finally, he stood, and lifted the arm the elf was so desperately tugging on. He easily hefted him up off the floor, grinning like an asshole the entire time.

“Come, my little friend. We will go and you will make me scream, yes?” The table broke out into laughter again as the elf fixed him with a steely stare.

“You’re not going to walk straight for a week-”

“Malikor.” The elf blinked owlishly.

“Huh?” The draenai slung the elf over his shoulder and stared for the door, apparently he wasn’t planning on using the inn tonight.

“My name is Malikor. So you know what to yell when I go to sleep.” The elf hit his back, and was rewarded by a stinging hand. The answer was a chuckle as he stepped out and headed for where he mount was tied. “What is your name, small friend?”

“Arathin.” The elf muttered, blushing hard from the sound mockery he’d gotten inside. It was a matter of pride now though. This night was not going according to plan at all.

“Ah. It is very nice to meet you, Arathin. We will talk, stay with me for the night? I do not like waking up alone.”

“I’ll think about it.” He was just starting to wonder what a giant would ride, when they rounded the corner of the tavern and he saw...A golden dragon. Long and serpentine, it was saddled and reined like any other horse would be. It lifted its massive head towards Malikor and Arathin, and let out a brief huff, blasting the two of them with hot air.

“Yes, yes hello Misha. I bring a friend, so not too high tonight, yes?” He plopped Arathin on the saddle, and then climbed on himself, grabbing the reins and giving the massive beast a quick nudge with his hooves. Arathin wasn’t sure what he was expecting, but he instantly wrapped his arms around Malikor’s thick waist as the dragon immediately took off into the air, leaving a streak of gold behind it as it headed into the woods and over the trees.

“I thought you said not to go high!” Arathin stated, panicked and staring dead at the center of Malikor’s back. The paladin chuckled, kicking a tree branch.

“Is not high! Look, you can still reach the trees. Are you scared?” At that, the elf shoved him briefly, before panicking again and holding on tight.

“No! I was just... I was... NO.” He was forced to listen to the draenai’s laughter all the way to his camp. He easily landed the dragon, and didn’t even bother tying it up. He just dropped the reins, and started fussing with an already neatly made wood teepee for the fire. The dragon just flopped onto the ground not far away, huffing once before laying its massive head down. Arathin had to wait a bit for his legs to stop shaking, before he wandered up behind the paladin, stuffing a bit of tinder into the teepee.

“Don’t keep me waiting.” He cooed into his ear, intent on reclaiming the moment. The paladin grinned over at him brightly.

“You talk very big for someone so small.” He struck the flint, and blew gently on the spark, until the fire finally rose and began to crackle along the wood. After a moment, a cheerful campfire was started, and the paladin rose, giving a mighty stretch. “Ah, there. Nice and warm. Now-” He was caught mid sentence by the elf immediately grabbing his belt, and with one easy motion, undoing it and tossing it aside. Malikor blinked, and then smiled, rolling his eyes. “Yes yes. Too slow, I see.” He began to shed his armor, cape first, then slowly the torso. He undid the straps on the shoulders and arms, and then the heavy chest piece, letting each one slowly rest on the ground. Very slowly. With clear intent. Arathin was losing his patience.

“You know, I could have you naked by now.” Malikor just laughed again.

“You can help!” Well, if he could help then he would. He wasn’t kidding either, the elf quickly undid the straps for the codpiece and the legs, and let them fall where they may, clanking loudly onto the ground. Sure he still had pants on, but at least the armor wasn’t there anymore. And since the armor wasn’t there... Arathin promptly went and grabbed the draenai’s firm, rounded ass, getting a nice handful for each hand.

“Very nice... Hard to get a good look at this under all the armor.” As if he hadn’t even touched him, the bigger male turned his head a little to look over his shoulder, swatting him a bit with his thick tail.

“Looks nicer without pants.” He added helpfully, slipping off the cotton shirt he wore under the armor. Well, Arathin didn’t have to be told twice. He yanked those pants down in a heartbeat, and then wrapped his arms around Malikor’s waist. He was too short to grind against him properly, but he did reach between the giants legs and gave that thick, fat cock a squeeze. Wow... Okay no wow, what they said about draenai was not just a rumor, that was... that was very impressive. No wonder Malikor had laughed at him. As he was doing right now, reaching down to engulf Arathin’s hand with his and prompting him to stroke his massive shaft. “Is nice, yes? I do not think it would fit you. I like you, would hate to break you.” Arathin slipped his hand away from Malikor’s and went to get a handful of his sac, massaging the impressive thing gently.

“I’d hate to break you, big guy.” He answered back, before pushing on him a bit, fussing with his own belt. “I can’t reach you if you keep looming over me, you giant oaf.” The tone was playful, but even if it hadn’t been, Malikor still would have chuckled. The draenai trotted over to his bed roll, and then laid down on it, seating that fine ass on the ground and hiding it from Arathin. The elf pouted, casting aside his own pants. “On your stomach, jerk.” Malikor grinned.

“I can put my legs on your shoulders.”

“You’ll crush me to death between your thighs, I mean it.”

“I will not, I will be very gentle with my thighs. Like small newborn bird.”

“Look just get on your stomach, alright?” With another laugh, the paladin, turned onto his stomach, even going as far as to invitingly spread his legs and raise that goddamn perfect ass up, rasing his tail up and out of the way to give the elf perfect access to him.

“Oh be gentle?” He teased sweetly, resting his head on his chin and giving his rump a quick waggle. The elf snatched something up from his bundle of clothes and stomped over to the still laughing draenai. He was, of course, ever aware of the very big, very hard, very deadly shod and cloven hooves the paladin had. If he surprised him too much, he might not have a head after this. Malikor heard something pop, and then felt a cool, slick liquid being poured between his cheeks, Arathin pulling one aside and massaging the tight hole in there. And it was very, very tight. There was a brief huff from the paladin, not nearly as jovial now as the elf got comfortable behind him, his cock already starting to get hard with just the idea of being inside of that.

“You should have asked me to be gentle before those jokes, dick.” Arathin crooned tenderly, before slowly easing in two fingers. A bit much to start with such a tight hole, but Malikor kind of had it coming. The paladin jerked, tensing around those already quite filling fingers as he grunted, shifting his hips a little. He was about to say something, when those fingers found what they were looking for, and pressed in, dragging down and massaging. He yelped, jerking his hips back in surprise as a jolt shot straight to his length, and Arathin snickered, rubbing there deeply while reaching around and giving that already awakening cock a few good tugs. “Not so smart now, are you, big guy?”

“I was surprised! I was just surprised!” Malikor insisted loudly, his hips shaking a little as Arathin worked over his member, slowly thrusting his fingers in and out.

“Whatever helps you sleep. Think you can handle number three?” He pinched a rounded, pert cheek, and Malikor jerked again, having almost lost himself with just having two in. He’d be a coward if he said he wasn’t ready, but he honestly almost didn’t think he was ready for three. He huffed, just once, before lowering his chest to the ground, pressing back against Arathin’s hand.

“I am not afraid of fingers, Arathin.” He announced boldly. And thusly, he was rewarded with the ring finger being slowly pressed in. He couldn’t hold back the deep, rumbling moan as he was filled, Arathin snickering and massaging that one point deep inside Malikor.

“Wow, Mally, you look stuffed with just three in there... Going to be a tight fit for me.” Malikor’s breath hitched in anticipation, he actually felt his stomach flip at the mere mention of something bigger inside of him. Okay maybe it... was a mistake to make fun of the elf before. Maybe he shouldn’t have done that. He was a little too proud to apologize now though, letting out another deep moan as Arathin graced him with another few lubricated tugs to his now heavy and hard cock. “I think you might be ready for me though. We don’t have all night after all. Want something to bite, Mally?” That earned a gentle, brief kick to the knee cap from a shod hoof. No words for that, he couldn’t speak properly right now. Arathin just chuckled, and then moved forward, pressing the head of his length against the prepared hole. Oh this was going to be very tight, he’d have to be careful. He had no intention of tearing his new companion after all. Slowly, agonizingly slow, he began to ease inside, shivering and groaning as Malikor’s tight body flexed around him, only allowing him in a fraction by fraction. “You have to relax, Mal... I’m not going to hurt you.”

The paladin took a deep breath, hips shaking as each thick inch of Arathin’s cock pressed inside, stretching him to his limit slowly. It was the sweetest torture, feeling that hot member press against that spot and sending another jolt through his body. He was moaning and starting to pant now, spreading his legs wider in the desperate hope that he could somehow ease the entrance just a little more. Arathin massaged his hips and ass, cooing soft words of encouragement into his ear as he continued to pause and wait for the bigger male to adjust to him. Finally, at long last, he pressed himself fully against Malikor, seated to the hilt deep inside of him. So hot and tight, he could have gone off right then and there, but that would hardly be satisfying, would it? He let the draenei adjust to the feeling, massaging his hips lightly as the heavy breaths began to even out, the massive paladin slumping a little and giving a soft moan.

“Better?” Arathin asked sweetly, and Malikor nodded, taking a deep breath as if to say something. He wasn’t going to get far. CRACK. A firm hand suddenly slapped across his ass, and bright blue eyes widened and brightened as he jerked sharply, crying out in surprise. Arathin tugged his hips back, giving him a quick thrust before suddenly cracking his hand across that fine, rounded rump again. “I have to pay you back for making fun of me at the tavern. Rude, don’t you think?” The draenei tried to snarl back at him, but he was cut off by the now pistoning cock in him, hitting that spot again and again. Between the slap of his ass against Arathin’s thighs and the hard cracks of his hand across his back side, he could barely keep track of what was going on anymore. What was going to be an indignant roar turned into a submissive cry instead, the big, mighty paladin just offering his hips up into the spanking and the fucking without a second thought. Maybe he did have this coming, in the end. He had been a bit of a wise ass, hadn’t he? Firm flesh bounced pleasingly each time Arathin struck it, and he admired the way blue skin darkened to purple under his hand. He gently massaged one cheek, rubbing the dark purple blush deeply as Malikor helpfully jerked his hips back against him rhythmically. Arathin was getting his wish: The paladin shouted and cried out with each strike, arching his back and tightening around him, making each thrust all the sweeter.

“A-Ara-” English wasn’t going to work here. He wasn’t very good at it even while he could think straight. It devolved into straight Draenei, panting and babbling in that strange, elegant language. Begging. Straight up begging for more, he needed this, he wanted this. Oh he was so, so sorry for doubting him, he deserved this punishment. He was so, so sorry. Arathin was no master of the language, but he understood the general gist of it enough, laughing breathlessly as he fucked the bigger male without mercy, getting a good handful of one cheek and giving that ass a good squeeze.

“I told you I was going to make you scream. You’re squirming and begging me for more, just like I said!” It was getting harder to hold on, between Malikor’s cries and his tight, fucking perfect ass bouncing on his cock. The thick, impressive tail curled around Arathin’s waist, as if for comfort, and the elf took pity on his larger companion as he was hugged tightly by it. With a sigh, he caressed one darkened cheek, before reaching down and starting to work over his cock again, crooning gentle words into the giant’s pointed ear. “Just relax, Mal. Feels good doesn’t it? You’re doing great, you feel so good... So tight, I can barely take it. You’re perfect, just... absolutely perfect...” He was almost breathless, and the powerful tail wrapped around him coaxed him to press in deeper. He obliged, though his pace was starting to become a little erratic and harder to maintain. He wasn’t going to last much longer, but oh he wanted the pleasure of getting Malikor off first before he actually came. His strokes became faster, his thumb running over the head of his cock, before slipping back to play with that heavy sac, gently massaging it and rolling it in his hand. “C’mon, big guy. You can cum now... Nice and hard, lets see it.”

The paladin wasn’t about to argue, he jerked his hips into his hand twice, before crying out sharply. Seed spattered across his hand and the bedroll, and dimly Malikor reminded himself he’d have to grab the spare. He was in no mood right now to scrub the bedroll, he’d have to do that tomorrow.

Feeling that hot cum smear across his fingers, and feeling that tight hole suddenly tense around him, Arathin was free to hit his peak, slamming in deeply and releasing as far into Malikor as he could go. He let out a long, low moan, massaging the paladin’s hips before leaning forward to place a kiss at the center of his back. About as high up on the draenei as he could get, really.

“That was great... by the Light, Mal...” That had been an excellent lay. With a groan, the elf reeled himself back, and Malikor collapsed flat against the bedroll, dazed and sated. Now that... was impressive. He regretted making fun of the elf now, his ass was sore in so many different ways. He let out an appreciative rumble, before tugging on Arathin with that heavy tail, trying to tug him in closer.

“Come here. I asked you to not leave, stay with me and sleep, my friend.” He mumbled, rolling with a grunt onto his side. Arathin was a bit too weak legged and tired to actually abandon his nights entertainment anyway, and the elf complied, if slowly, crawling up beside the massive paladin. No way he could be the big spoon in this occasion, he found himself enveloped in the paladin’s arms, pressed against his powerful chest. “Very good... I underestimated you, small friend.” He rumbled with a tired chuckle, placing a kiss to the tip of Arathin’s ear. The elf just laughed breathlessly, squeezing the giant’s hand in his before twining his fingers around his.

“You’ll think twice before you laugh at small elves, huh?” He answered with a sigh, breathing in deeply to smell the scent of the larger male. Earthy and pleasant really. Already those glowing blue eyes were starting to drift closed, the draenei nuzzling the back of Arathin’s head.

“Three times I will think, yes.”

“Good... Goodnight, Mally.”

“Goodnight, small friend.”
hailthenarc: (Default)
How long had it been since Megatron had died in that explosion? Days? Months? Years? Soundwave remembered how the next day had been after that. And the next. And yet the next one. His slowly growing, stubborn refusal to listen to Starscream, his continued searches for his Lord’s corpse out there in the rubble, hunting for his life signal, just a fragment of him. At first Starscream allowed the searches. Until they started cutting into time better spent hunting for Autobots. His orders to do shorter searches, weaker scans, fell on deaf audials. Soundwave would not be denied this, his Lord, if indeed dead, deserved that final dignity of a proper burial, a place to rest instead of floating out in space for the rest of eternity. Soundwave ignored each order, every demand that he focus on the task at hand, until things finally came to a head.

He had no idea how the seeker had managed to rally that many eradicons behind him. The introduction of the medic Knock Out and his cohort, Breakdown, was unexpected. He was outnumbered. The order was given to cease all searches for Megatron, lest it be seen as treason to the cause. He had to choose between Megatron, or Starscream.

Soundwave never had a choice to begin with.

By the time they finally managed to subdue the former gladiator, he’d ripped apart countless eradicons, his armor stained blue, his blade notched and gory. Laserbeak had almost been shot out of the sky and ripped to shreds, but Soundwave gave the simbiote an order: Flee. There had to be mechs out there in the universe still loyal to only Megatron, and if Soundwave himself could not find them, than Laserbeak surely would. The bird managed to escape, leaving Soundwave pinned beneath more eradicons than he could count. It took so many to just keep those long, thin limbs down that they eventually had to just wrench them out of their sockets, leaving them dangling, sparking and useless. That wasn’t nearly as painful as having the tentacles removed.

Those were primary sense organs. Using them for combat might have been foolish, but when they were strong enough to crack concrete, who was he to deny their use? No one on the ship had a blade like he or Megatron. Each tentacle had to be painstakingly sawed off with Knock Out’s buzzsaw. Soundwave didn’t let a single noise escape him, mutely bleeding onto the floor of the Nemesis as eradicons hurried to dispose of the tentacles. Even if they were lifeless, they still feared them, as if they had the ability to reattach to Soundwave’s frame.

Knock Out might have been better at wrecking than fixing, but he managed to seal the two gaping holes where the tentacles were. Well enough to keep the former TiC from bleeding out. From the bridge, his bridge, he was dragged down to the brig, locked up and bound until Starscream could think of something to do with him.

And there he waited, trying to hack through the new security the ship had. He needed some control, any control at all would do. He could still communicate with Laserbeak, and did so in silence, updating the drone on his condition and what had transpired. Giving it every ounce of information it might need to sway someone to his side. He needed sympathizers, he knew they were out there... Somewhere.

The sound of heels clicking in the hall finally dragged him out of his conversation, visor alight with information and data as the door to the cell slid open. Starscream stook, silhouetted in the doorframe, talons clasped behind him. He didn’t look amused. Soundwave, after all, had been useful to the cause, no one was like him in the entire galaxy. Capable of listening to every signal on the planet, he could pinpoint any conversation about an Autobot and hone in on it without effort. Damaging the former Communications Chief was not desired.

But Starscream wasn’t about to let the chance of glory slip through his skinny fingers. Soundwave stood between himself and true leadership. Had not Megatron taught him this lesson over and over again in the past? Perhaps Soundwave would be a better listener than he was.

The door slip closed, and a thin, flickering, wane light flicked on in the cell.

“Soundwave... I’m very disappointed in you.” He began, starting to pace slowly in the cell. Soundwave watched him without comment, motionless and without feeling. A living corpse. “We make a formidable team together. If you’d just listen to me. Why is asking for your Primus be damned respect so very difficult for you?” The seeker paused a few feet away from Soundwave’s restrained and limp form, reaching out to hook a claw under his chin. With something so sharp pressed that close to vital energon lines, Soundwave knew better than to struggle.

“You will get it through that thick helm of yours. One way or another, Soundwave. I am your master now. You answer to me.” A sharpened thumb pressed against the dark glass of Soundwave’s visor. It wasn’t hard to break it. The visor cracked, and a deep, static laden hiss slithered sharply out of Soundwave’s vocalizer as he tried to jerk his head away. Too little too late, the glass shattered, Soundwave instinctively going to try and sink his denta into Starscream’s fingers. The jet yelped and yanked his hand away just in the nick of time, taking a long moment to look over Soundwave’s exposed face.

It was elegant, sleek. Nothing about it betrayed his true age, with sharp, almond shaped purple optics and a thin, small and severe mouth. What was fascinating was... well the designs. At some point, long in the past, Soundwave had been without a visor. The elaborate etchings over his face spoke of a younger time, a wilder one. Old Cybertronian circled his optics, forming wings off to the side. Lines around the mouth spoke of silence, while the glyphs around his optics boasted of sharp, armor piercing sight. His brow was decorated in symbols of intelligence, his face was a beautiful work of old art.

‘It will be a shame to stain it’, Starscream thought to himself, tracing over the lines as Soundwave began to vibrate with contained rage. Only now did a sickening smile spread across Starscream’s face plates, caressing the side of Soundwave’s helm.

“There there, Soundwave. If this session goes well, you’ll get an entirely new visor. I won’t even mention your behavior again-” He was cut off as Soundwave lashed out, finally managing to bite down hard on Starscream’s index finger. The seeker shrieked, fighting to get that digit back as Soundwave threatened to chew it right off. Eventually, Starscream was forced to strike that face, three times in a row before Soundwave let go, dazed from the direct hits to the helm.

“You insane, brutish muted little-” His anger only got worse as Soundwave’s laughter filled the room, the former gladiator lapping the energon off his lips, silently daring Starscream to lay a hand on him again. “So that’s how you want to play, is it? Don’t say I didn’t try to be reasonable with you, Soundwave.” And with that, he called in for some eradicons. He’d need some chains and a pair of stasis cuffs. Soundwave was going for a walk.

By the time they made it down there to his cell, he’d already guessed he wasn’t going to stay in there. He kicked out violently as he was surrounded, forced to the floor. He could barely hold his weight on his dislocated arms, but they weren’t about to let him back up, winding a length of chain around the former officer’s neck. They worked quickly, trying not to let any of their fingers get caught up in Soundwave’s mouth. They scattered as soon as their job was done, and the first thing Soundwave did was attempt to stand. Starscream was there in a nanoklik, slamming one foot down into the center of the spy’s back. With his arms in their condition, he could hardly resist. He hit the floor, the display of complete disrespect finally managing to coax an enraged roar from the downed officer.

“You, Soundwave, will not walk to the bridge. You will crawl there!” Starscream ground his heel into Soundwave’s back, the drone plane snarling and writhing in an effort to get out from under his foot. The eradicons nervously milled about a few feet away, just out of attack range, watching their new lord attempt to demean their former officer. Soundwave eventually spat oral lubricant.

“Never.” His voice, dark, powerful and full of violence, was enough to rattle the glass on Starscream’s cockpit. The jet faltered, his breath hitching, before he slammed his foot down again, this time pressing the heel into the back of Soundwave’s helm.

“You will crawl or you will be dragged, Soundwave!” This ultimatum did nothing. Soundwave refused to budge. So Starscream yanked the chain around his neck, before handing it off to the eradicons. He’d need all of them to budge the offending spy. Soundwave wasn’t a heavy mech, but he’d fight the whole way. “You heard me.” He snapped, before storming off for the bridge. Trading looks between themselves, the eradicons eventually moved to the very end of the chain, and started to drag.

It was a long, painful process. Soundwave struggled the entire way to the bridge. Thin fingers dug deep grooves into the metal, more than once did he try to jerk the chain out of their hands, never actually uttering a word the entire time. He sounded like a beast through, growling, hissing and spitting the whole way there. Not a single soldier dared get close, convinced the ex-gladiator would tear them apart with his denta alone. By the time they reached the bridge, Soundwave had not lost a shred of energy, but the eradicons that pulled him up there were exhausted. Starscream was waiting, tapping his foot impatiently against the ground. All the troops were there, staring at the scene, too scared to actually approach the wounded spy. All of them remembered the fight with him a little too well. None of them wanted to be shredded. Starscream ordered a flier up to the bridge, before jamming another chain into his hands and tossing a pair of specially fit stasis cuffs towards an eradicon.

“Bind him.” Both of them looked petrified. The unfortunate mech with the cuffs lingered a few feet out of range, fussing with the restraints in his hands. How was he going to get these on him? The first few attempts were aborted, Soundwave was too quick and lashed out with one of his damaged arms, ignoring the sound of shrieking metal. It took three times before the eradicon simply flung himself at the downed officer, forcing the injured arms back painfully. He rode out Soundwave’s attempts to buck him, swearing as he finally managed to clasp the cuffs around his skinny wrists and hold those long arms behind his back. With his help, the flier managed to loop the chain around the cuffs a few times, before heading for the ceiling with his end of the chain. Soundwave was easily strung up, forced to stand and then bend over as his arms were yanked up behind him higher and higher. Aft in the air, he trembled with pain and rage, as Starscream circled him on the bridge.

“You could have very easily avoided this, Soundwave. If you had any shred of self preservation, you could have been back doing your usual duties. But instead, you chose to fight me. And what kind of leader would I be if I let that go unchallenged?” He paused behind Soundwave, before reaching forward. Sharp claws found his interface panel, and Soundwave froze. Methodically, intimately, Starscream rubbed at the thin metal over his array, tsking gently. “You force my hand. I wish there was some way around this, Soundwave but you have left me with no choice.” Soundwave clamped down on his glossa, and Starscream dug his talons into the panel. Soundwave’s armor was thin and stripped, it was easy for Starscream to yank that panel clean off, getting a good look at the array beneath.

No spike. Soundwave was entirely a valve mech. Starscream’s expression turned to an unpleasant smile. “You’re very arrogant for someone so low, don’t you think, Soundwave? My my, not even a spike there. I’m sure Megatron was kept very happy with you.” The response to that was an enraged shout, the spy twisting in his bonds. Starscream let him fight for a moment, tracing the outer line of his valve, before casually sinking a finger right into the dry port. Soundwave’s anger was cut off in a sharp gasp, and Starscream snickered, working at the port and pressing in deeper and deeper until-

He hit a barrier. ... He paused. There was still a seal in there. Soundwave still had his seal. “Oh... Well isn’t this special? Our former Communications Chief still has his seal.” There was a murmur among the collected mass there. Soundwave had never shared a berth with someone? They were sure, considering his closeness to Megatron, that he’d at least been with him. Starscream didn’t dare break it, just stuffed the tight valve with a second finger. “I’m going to enjoy this, Soundwave. I’ve never had the pleasure of breaking someone’s seal before.” Soundwave hissed, trying to jerk his hips away as his biology betrayed him. Soon, Starscream had three fingers snugly inside, lubricant starting to drip from the aroused, hot little valve. “I think I’ve serviced you enough, don’t you agree, Soundwave?” The sharp talons slipped out, and something thicker and longer pressed against him. Soundwave vented once, deeply, sharply-

Before Starscream buried himself to the hilt, snapping that seal with one thrust. The violence of the motion forced a sharp, gagged sound from Soundwave, optics bright and wide with shock as Starscream remained motionless for a moment, savoring the sensation of tight virgin mesh working around his spike. “Mnn... You’re so hot, Soundwave. So tight. Like you were made for this.” Starscream slowly pulled out, and then pressed back in again, letting Soundwave feel every single inch of his spike as he drew it out almost to the head, and then slammed it back in. Every time Soundwave almost pulled himself back up, Starscream would force him down again with another thrust. It was slow, agonizing, and eventually the new Lord of the Decepticons couldn’t bear to keep such a slow pace up. He started to jerk his hips faster, harder into the unwilling body in front of him, grinning sharply as Soundwave struggled now to keep silent.

“Does it hurt, Soundwave? I can hear you trying to whimper. Is it agony? Your sopping wet valve is telling me another story, you stubborn little pleasurebot.” He slammed in hard again, grinding into sensitive nodes before reaching down to feel around the rim of Soundwave’s valve. Finding the foremost node, he scraped his thumb along it, and an electrical shock shot straight through Soundwave’s form. He almost cried out, but instead vented again, knees buckling under the intense sensations. “You wanted this, remember? You may as well have begged me for it. Filthy thing, open and dripping in front of the whole army. I can feel your valve drawing me in, you want me to overload in you.” Of all the times for Soundwave to wish Starscream to shut up, now was that time. He bit down on his glossa until oral lubricant and energon dripped down his chin, knees threatening to give out from under him.

“Maybe this will be your new use? How do you like being a spike warmer, Soundwave?” Starscream could only go on so much longer. He was no Megatron after all, and while the warlord could have easily held his own for a while, Starscream’s stamina was only so good. With his claws biting into Soundwave’s hips, he slammed into him three more times, scraping at the outside of his valve in an attempt to force him to overload. Soundwave ground his denta until he was sure one of them would break, before Starscream exploded inside him. The hot transfluid flooding his valve was enough to force his own overload, and lubricant and transfluid dripped messily onto the floor. With a sigh, Starscream withdrew from the stretched valve, casually wiping a bit of transfluid off of his spike. Soundwave sagged in the chains, trying not to pant in an effort to cool his systems down. He expected, after that, to be dragged back to his cell to await another punishment. He did not expect soldiers to start gathering around him. Starscream had backed off, heading for the door.

“Enjoy.” That single word sent a cold chill through Soundwave, the murmuring starting to grow as the soldiers, no longer as fearful as they were before, gathered around Soundwave’s limp and overheated frame. Starscream had used him, and if someone like Starscream could use Soundwave... An eradicon reached out, testing out the mesh walls of Soundwave’s gaping valve. Soundwave struggled to hiss, but three fingers plunged in instead, and he was caught by surprise, a static laced moan slipping out instead. That caused the eradicon behind him to almost titter nervously.

“I guess he does like it.” The three fingers scissored, and Soundwave writhed, the soldiers closing ranks and becoming bolder. Hands on his aft, on his legs, forcing them wider as the eradicon wiggled in a forth finger. Someone grabbed his head, jerking it up sharply to get a look at him. The mask of a face was broken, genuine panic in those once cold and unfeeling optics. “He’s scared!” Another laugh through the group, the four pistoning fingers buried in his valve scraping down his walls. Soundwave moaned again, and a soldier pinched his aft, murmuring as the lubricant stained his thighs.

“Primus he’s so wet and tight... Think we can fit two in there now-” No no no oh Primus no. Soundwave tried to jerk his hips away, but the eradicon forced them back fussing with the chain holding his arms up. The slackened, but only enough for the soldier to grab Soundwave’s thighs and heft him up. An army was there to help, spreading Soundwave wide as the fingers slipped out of his valve. More came to stretch it wide, massaging at the outer folds. Soundwave was hot, too hot, and under this kind of attention, he wasn’t going to be able to hold out for much longer. With a rumbling moan, he overloaded a second time, and the eradicon in front of him used the lubricant flowing out of his valve to wet his spike. “Fit two huh...” No-

The first spike slammed in, grinding up against raw nodes. He had no time to recover, the eradicon behind him was forcing in his spike, stretching him wide. His whole frame tightened, a dry sob of both pain and intense pleasure forced out of him as the two started up a frantic, erratic pace. Stuffed almost to breaking, the eradicon in front of him pinched and rolled the sensitive nub of a node between his fingers, eliciting more desperate, wanton cries from Soundwave. “He does like it! Frag I can feel him milking me!” Too hot to control his systems, Soundwave was forced to pant, optics offline and shut tightly as twin spikes pistoned in and out of his wet, stretched valve. The one in front hit his peak first, filling Soundwave to bursting with transfluid. The one behind pulled out, and spattered his load across his back. The former officer was dropped, hitting the floor with a loud clatter in a transfluid soaked mess. They weren’t done though.

He had a whole army to get through.

The next one was singular and huge, slamming in and out of his valve as his aft was forced into the air. The eradicon held his head down, using it as leverage as he mercilessly fucked the spy. His third overload overwhelmed him, and he didn’t realize he was moaning Megatron’s name until someone approached his open, panting mouth.

“Can’t think of anyone else, can you, drone?” Too tired at this point, he just accepted the spike thrust into his mouth, another eradicon positioning himself behind him. His fifth? Sixth one? He’d lost count already. He gagged on the spike in his mouth, still moaning and crying out around it as the eradicon behind him happily spit roasted the now pliant and broken officer. “He’s sucking too, fragging whore.”

“He probably thinks you’re Megatron now.”
hailthenarc: (Default)
PLAYER
Name: Squid
Age:23
Personal Journal: hailthenarc
E-mail: notthatwitty@yahoo.com
AIM/MSN/etc: squiddlypeon

CHARACTER
Name: Bao Huan

Age: Real age: Ancient. Alive long enough to witness several extinctions, including the passing of the dinosaurs. Well over 60 million years old.
Apparent age: Late sixties, early seventies.

Appearance: Human: She stands at about four foot nine, a round, plump little old woman who dresses in earlier era style Chinese attire for the wealthy. She usually walks with perfect posture, but with very small, almost mincing steps. She is usually in no hurry and that is made clear by her typical slow walking speed. Her hair, usually hidden under her headdress, is iron gray, and her eyes are a pitch black. She typically dresses in greens and grays, and seems to carry no weapons on her person. May occasionally be seen with a bag though to carry items or money in. She speaks with a Chinese accent, though it doesn't seem terribly heavy, and usually uses formal terms instead of the vernacular or slang.

Dragon: Forty feet tall and sixty feet long. It isn't often she reverts to dragon form these days, prefering the obscurity of being human. Her scales are a dull, shifting green, along with her curling, goat like horns, and her teeth are a dark deep jade green in color. Her eyes are a pupilless pearly pink, and there are six of them in total, three to each side. Her wing span is equally as impressive, and is decorated at the tips with a pale, fleshy pink color. She's built thick, almost like a massive bull, and her claws almost avian in appearance. Usually doesn't move around much as a dragon, preferring to bask in the sunshine and sleep. Four legged, capable of rearing up on her back legs for added intimidation but otherwise a quadraped.

Chosen PB: Icons commissioned by Tytaero!

Personality: The friendliest, most bubbliest old woman you will ever meet. Level and down to earth with a good sense of humor and an overwhelming nurturing nature. Having been the mother to many, many babies in her time, she's taken on the aspect of a mother in every sense of the word, and spreads the love all around her, sharing her care freely with anyone who decides to take it (and with several people who are forced to take it). As matriarch to a massive brood of dragons, and well past breeding age herself, she's taken it upon herself to procure other beings to mother over. This has lead to many a cat being taken in, along with dogs, birds, and the occasional lizard. She's outlived them all, and currently on cat number three thousand, two hundred and eighty six, going by the name of Lemons.

She is almost infinitly patient, having raised all of her children past their rebellious years, and can tolerate a great deal from a lot of people. Though she has pride, it's not delicate, and she weathers most insults and attacks against her like a reed in the wind. Bowing back and then straightening up once it's all done and over with. It's better to not fight and cause trouble, and focus more on tending to others than be a pain in the ass. While some of her brood have flown off to go torment mountain sides and eat villagers, she remains a steadfast pacifist and gentle giant, almost never stooping to simplistic violence in order to get her way. It has driven her from a few homes, as humans are not always the most understanding species (and living next to a dragon can be kind of nerve wracking), but she's comfortably settled now and oversees her now slowly aging brood with a gentle claw and the eyes of a hawk.

She can become somewhat overbearing when she's settled on someone to care for, as she is still a dragon and has some of the same kinds of 'better than you' mindsets that most other dragons have. Delicate little things outside of her species need special care after all, they can be hurt so easily and pass on so quickly. She rarely refuses to accept that she's not needed (or wanted) in certain situations, and insists on having her opinion be heard and her care be accepted. She's lived to a ripe old age after all, who has better advice than her? She's a stubborn old broad, and will stick around for as long as she thinks necessary until she is positive that her services are no longer needed. While she is perfectly capable of being reasonable and rational, she still holds herself as the most responsible person in the area, and it would be irresponsible to abandon someone in a time of need (even if they claim they don't need anything).

Not a being easily swept away by emotions, there are still some ways to trigger the old broodmother's anger. While idle threats against her brood (or assumed brood) are usually brushed off without much notice, attacks against them are never tolerated. Those under her protection are defended with little care given to her own personal well being, and she generally does not feel any sort of remorse for taking down real threats to her brood. Another excellent way to anger her is to steal something of hers, or show dishonesty. While it usually doesn't earn one a roaring rampaging revenge dragon, it will earn one angry old woman with a few choice words about ne'er do wells and what she ought to do with them. And endless guilt trips. She can hold grudges for a long, long time if a slight actually harms her, and generally will not relent until an apology is had.

Though she is overwhelmingly friendly and easy to get along with, she can still be quite the tricky old lady. In her old age, she likes to play up her aching hips or trick knee, if only as an excuse to avoid having to go along somewhere, or run after someone. She is also known for laying on the guilt if her way isn't had, citing her age as another excuse as to why she should be listened to or 'humored'. Not often terribly self deprecating, she can slip into it slightly if it means swaying someone to her way of thought, or at least getting them to sit still for long enough to listen to her, wielding guilt like a cudgel. It's worked enough in the past before that she doesn't feel she has to do much else to get her way, and tends to be a bit surprised if it's turned around on her. Or ignored.


World Information: Dragons in Bao's world have been around since the earth was first a spinning ball of molten lava with mineral enriched seas. When the earth was young, magic ran wild and untamed through it, and with a meeting of magic and fire, the first small proto-dragons were formed. These violent, rather stupid first creations were only partially organic in nature, the living rock made flesh by the sheer power of wild magic alone. The males killed each other and mated almost non-stop with the females, and females fought and slaughtered the other for the right to nesting space. These first dragons didn't live long enough to grow very large, but as time progressed, they slowly became more intelliegent.

Either learning to avoid other more violent dragons or just plain out becoming the strongest of the bunch, the broodlings of the old proto-dragons began to spread out across the earth. Some took to the sea, the others claimed the land, while others dominated the air. There were other, smaller pseudo dragons, such as the wyrm and the wyvern, less intelligent than their true dragon cousins, that took control of the mountains and cave systems.

And while every dragon was original and different in appearance than the other, much like people, there were only two different types. The Western dragon, with it's massive wings, large build and dinosaur like appearance, and the Eastern dragons, of whom were more elegant and slender and serpentine in appearance. With each different dragon came different abilities, and while the Western dragon laid claim over poison fangs, fire beathing and molten vomit, the Eastern dragon commanded the weather, and could drum up a mighty storm in its wake. Both were capable of disgusing themselves to appear to be other creatures, though this really only came into play as humans began to dominate the planet.

Dragons are naturally territorial and get into fights fairly quickly, and while there are a few peaceful hold outs, most use their ancient cunning and intelligence to take advantage of the human race, which is widely considered beneath them. It isn't rare to find a dragon heading an organized crime syndicate, or becoming a cutthroat politician. They love positions of power, and while it is usually the female that holds the reins in the family, it is the male that strives for dominance against other dragons. There could be an entire clan of dragons in an organized crime hub, such as the mafia. They are actually far more common than anyone really knows.

Dragons from the East and West differ in both appearance, magic, and tradition, as they have taken on the traditions and cultures of the surrounding humans. In some instances, it was the dragons that started the entire culture to begin with, but in most cases, they adopt the culture they are living in to blend in better with society. There is no one uniform dragon culture, though there is a singular dragon language, that all dragons speak in. Being intelligent, long lived creatures, they can simply pick up any language they feel like learning, and while one might speak Japanese and the other may speak Spanish, there is still the one draconic language that binds them to the other.

Dragons typically have two names: A human name, and their original draconic name. While the draconic name never changes, their human name can be subject to change several times over as they move and change who they are to fit where they are. The draconic names hold a great deal more power than the human names, as human names are really more like a pseudonym for the dragon. A human could bind a dragon to them by learning their original draconic name, but it requires perfect pronunciation of the name itself, or else it's just a collection of alien syllables. Dragons only share their true name with family members, or with someone who is deeply, and intimately trusted.

History: Bao Huan was not born with that name. Technically, it is merely a human named adopted when China finally had some people in it, but her draconic name is far too complex for human understanding. Technically, she's been around long enough to clearly remember the dinosaurs, and used to spend a great deal of time in the warm waters of the new earth, and flying above the oceans. She can tolerate temperatures of incredible heights, and is usually the most comfortable around heated areas and volcanoes.

Bao was born the first clutch of her mother's, and raised in a fairly normal family. You know, for an ancient clan of dragons. Her father passed away early on after getting in a territorial fight with another dragon, and her mother never settled down again with another male, preferring to go about picking random males in order to lay more clutches of eggs. Bao was one of the few daughters that remained behind with her mother in order to help attend to the new broods, assisting her mother with all measures of childcare as she grew older. At first it was believed by her family that she might never take a mate herself, but as her mother laid smaller and smaller clutches, her attentions wandered outward. While she never did leave her mother until after she passed on (killed by another broodmother for nesting space), she began to seek out a mate to start her own nest with.

Her first mate was a massive drake from the west, as her father had been, and she had five broods with him, far more than her original mother had ever had with her father. She cared for each and every brood deeply, protecting them through many trials and tribulations. As dragon eggs, before humanity arrived, were a prized dish for their protein and size, protecting both the eggs and her young brood was the most important thing she could ever think to do. She put her entire being into protecting each clutch of eggs, raising each drake until they were old enough to either choose to remain with their broodmother as a clan, or set out to start their own families.

After only a few thousand years though, she lost her first mate to, what else, a territorial squabble with another male. When said male attempted to claim Bao Haun as the prize for the fight along with the territory, she summerily dominated him. She was a large female, larger than most other local dragons, and while the fight was hard and she came out battered and scarred, she still sent the attempted suitor away with burns and gouges. Rather than remain in the territory and weather more fights from incoming males and females though, she chose to pack up her newest brood and move for more calmer areas. It was around this time that the dinosaurs began to show up on earths forested and green surface, and Bao... cared little for the new arrivals to her area. Though larger than most dinosaurs that would pass through her territory, there was the ever growing threat of losing eggs and hatchlings to opportunistic hunters. She had to find a new mate to help in protecting her hatchlings, and she eventually settled on a more local, eastern dragon.

This relationship lasted only a few thousand years longer than the last before he was injured in a battle with a dinosaur, and died due to infection not too long afterwards. There was little mourning to be had by Bao, who had merely taken him as a mate as an insurance policy. Again, she moved her brood and her clan to a new area and settled down again, intent on making this one last a little longer. This time, she had chosen a cooler location, far up in the mountains, where there would be little chance of large predators bothering either her or her eggs. By this point, she had a nicely sized clan to assist her with protecting her young, and thought very little of getting a new mate, focusing on raising her brood without interference. Indeed, she had planned for the latest clutch to be the last, until she met Bai Hui.

Again, this was long before humans were ever even a thought on this planet, and Bai went by a very different name when they first met. He was another eastern dragon, traveling through the mountains to reach the sea to mate with another female. He was unfortunately caught up in a storm in the mountains though, and forced to land right outside Bao's chosen cave. At first, she attempted to drive him away, fearing for her brood, but as he pleaded to be kept safe and swore to leave after the storm abated, she relented, allowing him entrance into her cave.
He bonded quickly with her brood and her clan, and soon, with Bao herself, the two of them becoming very close despite the fact that she was a few thousand years his elder. As the storm passed and the way cleared, he lingered at the cave, and the two of them soon became inseperable mates quickly afterwards. Bai and Bao were long standing mates, and Bai sired several broods with Bao. He was a far more peaceful dragon than her previous mates, and remained safe up in the mountains with her, rather than wander and get into trouble with other dragons, or fight for more territory.

Bao remembers the asteroid that hit the earth well, and she took her brood and her mate with her into the sea to escape the wrath of the severe shifts in temperature and climate. Under the waves, she lived with a more welcoming clan of sea dragons near hot sea vents. It was there she developed a taste for sea food, mostly shark as they were one of the few that were massive enough to support her diet and keep her well fed.

Her and Bai would only emerge from the ocean again when the skies had once again cleared, and the climate had started to return to normal. Once more they sought out their mountain home, but continental drift and earthquakes had long ago destroyed it, forcing them to seek out other homes for them and their peaceful clan. They would find it in a valley, interested to find that the dinosaurs that would have once called this place home were no longer present. Instead, strange new animals came to greet them, with hair and fur. Much smaller than the dinosaurs ever were, and while they were still a threat to eggs and young dragons, there wasn't so much of a danger in fighting them off anymore. For a long, long expanse of time, there was general peace in the valley, hidden well enough that no other dragons came to challenge either of them for space, and only the occasional mammal would show up to try and steal eggs.

Soon, they started to become aware of a new addition to their furred neighbors. Hairless ones, with weapons and tools and thatched houses. The first humans arrived in their valley, here to hunt the plentiful game and claim the valley for their own. Fascinated by their newest neighbors, it was Bao that would first approach them. And scare the loincloths right off them. Her massive size was too much for them to handle, and the few of them that didn't scatter from her like she was about to devour them, decided to treat her as some sort of diety. Her and her mate, as it turns out, were subject to this treatment of either fleeing or worship. Amused by the reaction, they left the hairless pink creatures alone and watched from a distance, watching them as they came and left and returned again to the valley, year after year, decade after decade, century after century. Until their little thatched houses began to be made out of stone, and the barest scraps of covering over their bodies changed to full attire, sometimes fine, sometimes poor.

Now, dragons are capable of great feats of magic. Bao's life never really demanded that she preform much magic before, but as more humans began to appear in the valley, she began to long to spend more time with them. They fascinated her as a species, appearing quite intelligent despite being so young, and very clever. So her and her mate crafted disguises to meet these newcomers. As a couple, two young humans arriving in the valley to get a closer look at these new people without spooking them or driving them away. At this point, both Bai and Bao were legends among the people, seen as benevolent spirits that protected the valley, as neither of the dragons ever attacked the humans or encroached in on their land. They were able to walk among them now, learning their language and speaking with them. More and more time was spent with these fascinating new beings, and soon other members of their clan adopted human guises and walked among them.

So it was for years and years, and both Bai and Bao witnessed the attacks by the Huns, and the building of the massive wall to keep them out. They moved their brood from the cave into the valley, living on the outskirts of town in a large manor-like house. While money was never an issue for them (as treasure was such a thing that Bao hoarded), Bai took on a job as a farmer, and he and his kin integrated with the town. Some of the clan split and moved off with humans themselves, though Bao never really saw the reasoning behind such a move. Humans were a short lived species, and falling in love with one was tantamount to trying to keep an insect as a pet. Death would come far too soon to develop much of a feeling beyond a mere crush. While she never once admonished her children for these relationships, she never really approved of them either, and while she still welcomed humans into her home and treated them well, she never progressed past the point of seeing them as just some sort of new, intelligent animal.

Finally, Bai and Bao would be split when Europeans came to China. It was not the fault of humans, but of another dragon that had assumed a human shape and had traveled along with a trading group on the Silk Road. He met Bao first, and attempted to steal her away from Bai. While Bao was, at this point, a very old and very powerful broodmother, she was caught unawares by the intruders advances, and was unable to use her more powerful attacks against him for fear of revealing herself to the townsfolk and losing the home she had built for her and her family. Bai, however, was much less worried about it.

When he came home to find Bao caught up with the European dragon, he reverted to his dragon form immediately. The townsfolk ran scared for the center of town as the trader shifted his shape as well, and their battle took to the skies, fire and lightning streaking across the sky as Bai called upon his magical prowess as an Eastern dragon. Storms blew in, trying to strike the drake with lightning, deafen him with thunder, and sweep him from the sky with wind, as the drake in turn responded with flame and molten lava wretched up from his gut.

Bai would soon be joined by Bao, as her mate began to flag in the battle, and brought with her the rest of her brood, rallying them to fight against this powerful new opponent. The sky was full of dragons, colorful scales, powerful flames and smoke filling the air above in a breathtaking display of power. For Bai, however, this fight would be his last. The Eastern dragon took a heavy blow to his side, and fell from the sky, crashing to the ground below. For Bao however, it would be the only fight where she would actually kill her opponent. Set upon at all sides by angry draklings and young dragons, the European dragon never stood a chance against the matriarch broodmother. She would tear him from the sky and crush him under her immense body, incinerating him with flame and tearing into him with poisoned fangs and rending claws.

Bloodied and bereaved, she returned to her mates side, the damage too much for her to fix. Bai died as Bao looked on, and his remains were taken to the mountain side near the valley, buried under stones and boulders. Once more, she would move her family, her secret revealed unto the humans there and worried about the attention and the problems that may arise from people knowing a dragon lived so close to them.

She retreated for a mountinous village, continuing the farm there, and raising the rest of her brood with no intention of ever again choosing a mate.
And now it's been several thousand years since she last had a mate to call her own, and the last of her brood is past the age of needing care. While she is never alone in her new home, in a now modern China, she still misses her last mate dearly, as it hasn't been nearly enough time to allow that wound to heal. She took on the duty of collecting strays to take care of now, whether they be stray humans or stray animals, as she has now decided she is too old to have any more children. Appropriately she has aged her human appearance, the old matriarch no longer seeking attention from anyone anymore.

She lives a quiet, peaceful life in her home now, with her cat and the occasional drifter and the rest of her clan. The house is still never empty of children even now, and she maintains her position of high matriarch and broodmother.

Strengths/Weaknesses: Strengths: Physical
Whether in human form or dragon, she is incredibly physically powerful. Her tiny, aged form belies the amount of strength she has, and is the reason she hasn't bothered to learn any means of self defense. She is rather confident that her brute strength and intelligence can get her out of a situation unharmed. As a dragon, she is immune towards fire, and actually prefers incredibly hot areas to rest in. Her dragon skin is very tough, and can repel most blades, though a gunshot would still puncture her. Though given her size, it would barely do any damage.

Mental: She is exceedingly intelligent, having been around for so long, and very clever. She prefers to get out of her problems with brains alone, and has easily outwitted dangerous individuals in the past. While she is really no rocket scientist, she's wise and street smart, not easily fooled or conned. She knows Chinese, English, and Draconic, and speaks all three fluently and with ease.

Emotional: Very calm and level headed for a dragon. She tends not to lose her temper quickly and keeps her emotions well under control, typically portraying herself as cheerful and optimistic. She will back off from a situation should it get too heated for her, and rarely goes out of her way to make someone else upset.

Weaknesses: Physical
As an old woman, she has all the weaknesses (save for strength), that an old woman would have. She can easily be stabbed, outrun, picked up, pushed, shot, or really take any kind of abuse at all. It is easier for her to break bones as a human, and it translates over to her dragon shape as well, so whatever damage is done to her as a human is mirrored on her dragon form. She is light, and with a poor sense of balance as a human, hence the small steps, and can be easily knocked over onto the floor.

Mental: She is capable and usually is pretty arrogant, confident in her abilities to outwit anyone and settle most any dispute. She doesn't hear refusals very often in her clan and isn't used to being shown up or spoken down to, and while she won't lose her temper, she will still be insulted. While she is not cruel towards humans, she still thinks of them as the lesser species, and tends to treat all of them as if they are children. She's not an intellectual, and is not terribly book smart, nor tech savvey, and is usually left in the dust with all the growing and expanding technology around her. She's still amazed humans made it to the moon, and has barely even heard of an ipod.

Emotional: She will hide her feelings from people for as long as possible, and constantly pretend to never be effected by anything. She doesn't reveal much about her emotional state, even with her own family, and bottles up any errent emotions inside of her. As the mother of the family, she needs to be the level headed and calm person of the bunch. She never lets anyone get in close emotionally, and usually if someone edges in too far for her comfort, she distances them by regulating them to a childs role in comparison to herself.

Abilities: Human: Immense strength. She can lift things several times her own weight over her head, as well as bend and break metal. Other than that, there's very little that sets her apart from any other human.

Dragon: Fire breath, molten vomit and flight. Ability to cause minor squalls due to her Eastern dragon blood. Her sight is sharp and each pair of those six eyes can look off in a different direction. Her hearing sharpens, and her sense of smell increases several times over.

First Person: Excuse me.

[Bao is at the grocery store, and holding up a small bag of clementines]

Is all the food here fresh? Who is doing all the restocking here anyway? It really is quite curious.

[She goes to pick up a few leeks too, dropping them into her bag]

Not that I am complaining. It is all very conveniant. It is just a curiosity. How strange that they can keep all of us in here, but manage to sneak in fresh food as well. Such a strange prison.

[Now she was inspecting a chicken, judging the weight of it]

If any of you out there are in need of a hot meal tonight, by the way, I would be more than willing to cook for you. I am not used to having such an empty table, it is nice to have some company while I eat. I will make enough for four people, that should keep me busy for the rest of the day. Just feel free to stop by and see if there is any room for you at the table.

Third Person: If ever there was a good time to go out for a nice sunning, it was today. The sun blazed brightly overhead, the sky was clear, there was no one in the field to bother her and she had the entire day in front of her. Unfortunately. Normally she was used to having so much more to do. Children to watch, babies to care for, meals to cook, shopping to do. Just an endless parade of things to keep her hands busy, now to be reduced to nothing at all?

She needed to make a new clan. A shame most everything here seemed to be so delicate and young. She reached the field, and immediately dropped the disguise, all sixty feet of ancient dragon spilling out over the sprawling field. Her massive wings rose and extended, soaking up the sun as she laid out in the grass. It would be better to find a plateu to do this on, but the place seemed to be absent of landmarks such as that. She'd have to be happy with the field for now. Her head was kept aloft, there was no way something as big as her would be able to sit out here and remain unseen, and she was sure there would be at least one person wandering out to see the huge dragon resting in the plains.

She was... lonely. Normally she'd have her young somewhere near by, either flying above her or resting below her, and the silence she heard instead of their calls and roars left her feeling empty. Maybe she should find someone and bring them out here. Just someone else to talk to while she was sunning out here. It didn't have to be deep or theological, just a bit of light chatting to fill her senses. There was a sigh from the beast, smoke curling from her maw as she stretched her wings, and then dropped them, allowing them to lay at her sides languidly.

She really had to find a house with more people in it, maybe one of the apartments down town. It didn't seem right to have an entire house to herself when it was only her there, there must be someone else out there she could possibly share an abode with. All things to ponder on as she raised her head to the suns rays and closed her six eyes in silent contentment. That's what she'd do when she was done out here. Head back to town and see if there was anyone in need of a roommate. Why not, the worst that would happen is that she'd be told no.
hailthenarc: (Default)
The friendliest, most bubbliest old woman you will ever meet. Level and down to earth with a good sense of humor and an overwhelming nurturing nature. Having been the mother to many, many babies in her time, she's taken on the aspect of a mother in every sense of the word, and spreads the love all around her, sharing her care freely with anyone who decides to take it (and with several people who are forced to take it). As matriarch to a massive brood of dragons, and well past breeding age herself, she's taken it upon herself to procure other beings to mother over. This has lead to many a cat being taken in, along with dogs, birds, and the occasional lizard. She's outlived them all, and currently on cat number three thousand, two hundred and eighty six, going by the name of Lemons.

She is almost infinitly patient, having raised all of her children past their rebellious years, and can tolerate a great deal from a lot of people. Though she has pride, it's not delicate, and she weathers most insults and attacks against her like a reed in the wind. Bowing back and then straightening up once it's all done and over with. It's better to not fight and cause trouble, and focus more on tending to others than be a pain in the ass. While some of her brood have flown off to go torment mountain sides and eat villagers, she remains a steadfast pacifist and gentle giant, almost never stooping to simplistic violence in order to get her way. It has driven her from a few homes, as humans are not always the most understanding species (and living next to a dragon can be kind of nerve wracking), but she's comfortably settled now and oversees her now slowly aging brood with a gentle claw and the eyes of a hawk.

She can become somewhat overbearing when she's settled on someone to care for, as she is still a dragon and has some of the same kinds of 'better than you' mindsets that most other dragons have. Delicate little things outside of her species need special care after all, they can be hurt so easily and pass on so quickly. She rarely refuses to accept that she's not needed (or wanted) in certain situations, and insists on having her opinion be heard and her care be accepted. She's lived to a ripe old age after all, who has better advice than her? She's a stubborn old broad, and will stick around for as long as she thinks necessary until she is positive that her services are no longer needed. While she is perfectly capable of being reasonable and rational, she still holds herself as the most responsible person in the area, and it would be irresponsible to abandon someone in a time of need (even if they claim they don't need anything).

Not a being easily swept away by emotions, there are still some ways to trigger the old broodmother's anger. While idle threats against her brood (or assumed brood) are usually brushed off without much notice, attacks against them are never tolerated. Those under her protection are defended with little care given to her own personal well being, and she generally does not feel any sort of remorse for taking down real threats to her brood. Another excellent way to anger her is to steal something of hers, or show dishonesty. While it usually doesn't earn one a roaring rampaging revenge dragon, it will earn one angry old woman with a few choice words about ne'er do wells and what she ought to do with them. And endless guilt trips. She can hold grudges for a long, long time if a slight actually harms her, and generally will not relent until an apology is had.

Though she is overwhelmingly friendly and easy to get along with, she can still be quite the tricky old lady. In her old age, she likes to play up her aching hips or trick knee, if only as an excuse to avoid having to go along somewhere, or run after someone. She is also known for laying on the guilt if her way isn't had, citing her age as another excuse as to why she should be listened to or 'humored'. Not often terribly self deprecating, she can slip into it slightly if it means swaying someone to her way of thought, or at least getting them to sit still for long enough to listen to her, wielding guilt like a cudgel. It's worked enough in the past before that she doesn't feel she has to do much else to get her way, and tends to be a bit surprised if it's turned around on her. Or ignored.


HISTORY

Bao Huan was not born with that name. Technically, it is merely a human named adopted when China finally had some people in it, but her draconic name is far too complex for human understanding. Technically, she's been around long enough to clearly remember the dinosaurs, and used to spend a great deal of time in the warm waters of the new earth, and flying above the oceans. She can tolerate temperatures of incredible heights, and is usually the most comfortable around heated areas and volcanoes.

Bao was born the first clutch of her mother's, and raised in a fairly normal family. You know, for an ancient clan of dragons. Her father passed away early on after getting in a territorial fight with another dragon, and her mother never settled down again with another male, preferring to go about picking random males in order to lay more clutches of eggs. Bao was one of the few daughters that remained behind with her mother in order to help attend to the new broods, assisting her mother with all measures of childcare as she grew older. At first it was believed by her family that she might never take a mate herself, but as her mother laid smaller and smaller clutches, her attentions wandered outward. While she never did leave her mother until after she passed on (killed by another broodmother for nesting space), she began to seek out a mate to start her own nest with.

Her first mate was a massive drake from the west, as her father had been, and she had five broods with him, far more than her original mother had ever had with her father. She cared for each and every brood deeply, protecting them through many trials and tribulations. As dragon eggs, before humanity arrived, were a prized dish for their protein and size, protecting both the eggs and her young brood was the most important thing she could ever think to do. She put her entire being into protecting each clutch of eggs, raising each drake until they were old enough to either choose to remain with their broodmother as a clan, or set out to start their own families.

After only a few thousand years though, she lost her first mate to, what else, a territorial squabble with another male. When said male attempted to claim Bao Haun as the prize for the fight along with the territory, she summerily dominated him. She was a large female, larger than most other local dragons, and while the fight was hard and she came out battered and scarred, she still sent the attempted suitor away with burns and gouges. Rather than remain in the territory and weather more fights from incoming males and females though, she chose to pack up her newest brood and move for more calmer areas. It was around this time that the dinosaurs began to show up on earths forested and green surface, and Bao... cared little for the new arrivals to her area. Though larger than most dinosaurs that would pass through her territory, there was the ever growing threat of losing eggs and hatchlings to opportunistic hunters. She had to find a new mate to help in protecting her hatchlings, and she eventually settled on a more local, eastern dragon.

This relationship lasted only a few thousand years longer than the last before he was injured in a battle with a dinosaur, and died due to infection not too long afterwards. There was little mourning to be had by Bao, who had merely taken him as a mate as an insurance policy. Again, she moved her brood and her clan to a new area and settled down again, intent on making this one last a little longer. This time, she had chosen a cooler location, far up in the mountains, where there would be little chance of large predators bothering either her or her eggs. By this point, she had a nicely sized clan to assist her with protecting her young, and thought very little of getting a new mate, focusing on raising her brood without interference. Indeed, she had planned for the latest clutch to be the last, until she met Bai Hui.

Again, this was long before humans were ever even a thought on this planet, and Bai went by a very different name when they first met. He was another eastern dragon, traveling through the mountains to reach the sea to mate with another female. He was unfortunately caught up in a storm in the mountains though, and forced to land right outside Bao's chosen cave. At first, she attempted to drive him away, fearing for her brood, but as he pleaded to be kept safe and swore to leave after the storm abated, she relented, allowing him entrance into her cave.
He bonded quickly with her brood and her clan, and soon, with Bao herself, the two of them becoming very close despite the fact that she was a few thousand years his elder. As the storm passed and the way cleared, he lingered at the cave, and the two of them soon became inseperable mates quickly afterwards. Bai and Bao were long standing mates, and Bai sired several broods with Bao. He was a far more peaceful dragon than her previous mates, and remained safe up in the mountains with her, rather than wander and get into trouble with other dragons, or fight for more territory.

Bao remembers the asteroid that hit the earth well, and she took her brood and her mate with her into the sea to escape the wrath of the severe shifts in temperature and climate. Under the waves, she lived with a more welcoming clan of sea dragons near hot sea vents. It was there she developed a taste for sea food, mostly shark as they were one of the few that were massive enough to support her diet and keep her well fed.

Her and Bai would only emerge from the ocean again when the skies had once again cleared, and the climate had started to return to normal. Once more they sought out their mountain home, but continental drift and earthquakes had long ago destroyed it, forcing them to seek out other homes for them and their peaceful clan. They would find it in a valley, interested to find that the dinosaurs that would have once called this place home were no longer present. Instead, strange new animals came to greet them, with hair and fur. Much smaller than the dinosaurs ever were, and while they were still a threat to eggs and young dragons, there wasn't so much of a danger in fighting them off anymore. For a long, long expanse of time, there was general peace in the valley, hidden well enough that no other dragons came to challenge either of them for space, and only the occasional mammal would show up to try and steal eggs.

Soon, they started to become aware of a new addition to their furred neighbors. Hairless ones, with weapons and tools and thatched houses. The first humans arrived in their valley, here to hunt the plentiful game and claim the valley for their own. Fascinated by their newest neighbors, it was Bao that would first approach them. And scare the loincloths right off them. Her massive size was too much for them to handle, and the few of them that didn't scatter from her like she was about to devour them, decided to treat her as some sort of diety. Her and her mate, as it turns out, were subject to this treatment of either fleeing or worship. Amused by the reaction, they left the hairless pink creatures alone and watched from a distance, watching them as they came and left and returned again to the valley, year after year, decade after decade, century after century. Until their little thatched houses began to be made out of stone, and the barest scraps of covering over their bodies changed to full attire, sometimes fine, sometimes poor.

Now, dragons are capable of great feats of magic. Bao's life never really demanded that she preform much magic before, but as more humans began to appear in the valley, she began to long to spend more time with them. They fascinated her as a species, appearing quite intelligent despite being so young, and very clever. So her and her mate crafted disguises to meet these newcomers. As a couple, two young humans arriving in the valley to get a closer look at these new people without spooking them or driving them away. At this point, both Bai and Bao were legends among the people, seen as benevolent spirits that protected the valley, as neither of the dragons ever attacked the humans or encroached in on their land. They were able to walk among them now, learning their language and speaking with them. More and more time was spent with these fascinating new beings, and soon other members of their clan adopted human guises and walked among them.

So it was for years and years, and both Bai and Bao witnessed the attacks by the Huns, and the building of the massive wall to keep them out. They moved their brood from the cave into the valley, living on the outskirts of town in a large manor-like house. While money was never an issue for them (as treasure was such a thing that Bao hoarded), Bai took on a job as a farmer, and he and his kin integrated with the town. Some of the clan split and moved off with humans themselves, though Bao never really saw the reasoning behind such a move. Humans were a short lived species, and falling in love with one was tantamount to trying to keep an insect as a pet. Death would come far too soon to develop much of a feeling beyond a mere crush. While she never once admonished her children for these relationships, she never really approved of them either, and while she still welcomed humans into her home and treated them well, she never progressed past the point of seeing them as just some sort of new, intelligent animal.

Finally, Bai and Bao would be split when Europeans came to China. It was not the fault of humans, but of another dragon that had assumed a human shape and had traveled along with a trading group on the Silk Road. He met Bao first, and attempted to steal her away from Bai. While Bao was, at this point, a very old and very powerful broodmother, she was caught unawares by the intruders advances, and was unable to use her more powerful attacks against him for fear of revealing herself to the townsfolk and losing the home she had built for her and her family. Bai, however, was much less worried about it.

When he came home to find Bao caught up with the European dragon, he reverted to his dragon form immediately. The townsfolk ran scared for the center of town as the trader shifted his shape as well, and their battle took to the skies, fire and lightning streaking across the sky as Bai called upon his magical prowess as an Eastern dragon. Storms blew in, trying to strike the drake with lightning, deafen him with thunder, and sweep him from the sky with wind, as the drake in turn responded with flame and molten lava wretched up from his gut.

Bai would soon be joined by Bao, as her mate began to flag in the battle, and brought with her the rest of her brood, rallying them to fight against this powerful new opponent. The sky was full of dragons, colorful scales, powerful flames and smoke filling the air above in a breathtaking display of power. For Bai, however, this fight would be his last. The Eastern dragon took a heavy blow to his side, and fell from the sky, crashing to the ground below. For Bao however, it would be the only fight where she would actually kill her opponent. Set upon at all sides by angry draklings and young dragons, the European dragon never stood a chance against the matriarch broodmother. She would tear him from the sky and crush him under her immense body, incinerating him with flame and tearing into him with poisoned fangs and rending claws.

Bloodied and bereaved, she returned to her mates side, the damage too much for her to fix. Bai died as Bao looked on, and his remains were taken to the mountain side near the valley, buried under stones and boulders. Once more, she would move her family, her secret revealed unto the humans there and worried about the attention and the problems that may arise from people knowing a dragon lived so close to them.

She retreated for a mountinous village, continuing the farm there, and raising the rest of her brood with no intention of ever again choosing a mate.
And now it's been several thousand years since she last had a mate to call her own, and the last of her brood is past the age of needing care. While she is never alone in her new home, in a now modern China, she still misses her last mate dearly, as it hasn't been nearly enough time to allow that wound to heal. She took on the duty of collecting strays to take care of now, whether they be stray humans or stray animals, as she has now decided she is too old to have any more children. Appropriately she has aged her human appearance, the old matriarch no longer seeking attention from anyone anymore.

She lives a quiet, peaceful life in her home now, with her cat and the occasional drifter and the rest of her clan. The house is still never empty of children even now, and she maintains her position of high matriarch and broodmother.
hailthenarc: (Default)
Player Information
*Name/Alias: Squid
*Your Journal: [personal profile] hailthenarc
*Age: 23
*Contact Information: AIM: Squiddlypeon
Plurk: Squiddly
*Characters already in the game: N/A

Character Information
*Character Name: Rabbit Walter
*Character Canon: Steam Powered Giraffe
*Age: 117, going on 10
*Race: Robot
*Timeline/Pull Point: After a long day of busking in San Diego. (No real episodes to pull him from)

*History: http://www.steampoweredgiraffe.com/backstory.html
http://www.steampoweredgiraffe.com/Rabbit.html

*Personality: Rabbit is nuts. No really, he's nuts. After over a hundred years of functioning and refusing upgrades, he is certifiably off his rocker. He was always on the eccentric side but since the wars and all that living he's done, it's safe to say the copper 'bot has more than a few screws loose in that head of his. He can be a selfish, childish, impish brat who can and will make a mess of everything he touches just simply for the sake of doing it because why not? A little ego monster too, his head is pretty darn swollen, what with being the oldest of his brothers, Colonel Peter Walter's (Pappy) first robot, pretty talented in the singing and music making division and all around snappy dresser. None of that persona is usually faked, he honestly feels that proud about himself, and he loves to lord it over his siblings even if, as they put it, he's aged like a fine milk.

Rabbit really is a few cards shy of a deck though. He lives in extremes almost every second of his life, subtlety does not come easily to him. One moment he could be wonderously happy, flitting about the manor and making talk with everyone else and being generally content with life. The next, he's bored, and making everyone's life as inconvieniant as possible, whether it be tromping through the house at 1 AM with his accordion, drawing faces on The Jon, pranking The Spine or trying to eat the next door neighbors cat whole. He has a fantastically bad temper to go along with this, and can spiral into a crushing depression if he suspects they did poorly in a show or if his feelings are damaged badly enough. He can become quite moody at the drop of a hat, and may refuse to leave his room for days on end if he felt badly enough. Only to emerge from it a ball of energy all over again.

One simple way to see Rabbit angry though, is to either insult his Pappy or endanger his family. He loves his family more than anything, and he is willing to risk life and limb to make sure they are safe. He is, after all, the oldest, and therefore the man of the house. Protecting them is up to him. Though his weapons were locked away from him after the wars, he still possesses his flame thrower, and a blue matter laser lens array, which is put to use when he puts his goggles down. He dislikes combat as a whole though, and while he may talk tough and bluster his way around, he usually won't stoop to fighting unless absolutely necessary. He isn't in the business of hurting people anymore after all. Annoying them maybe, but not directly hurting. He still carries with him a great deal of guilt when his core was stolen from him and vaporized two people, mutating a third. Though he certainly couldn't help it, it haunts him to this day, and it is a considerable weight that he carries on his shoulders, along with the wars he was in.

What Rabbit does love to do is to make music. He is a sucker for love songs, and has written several (even if one of them was for a toaster). He falls in love quickly and deeply, and loves intensely from the first day. He even says it in one of his songs that he only just saw his love when he knew he loved her. He has a long list of lovers, consisting of a toaster, a blender, and one night stand, though he has fallen in love with a more sentient being before (and lost her, if Honeybee is of any indication). He is... ninty percent straight, with only the occasional exception, and will typically flirt with any pretty woman. Or attractive appliance. He is very easy to manipulate while he has his crush, a pretty face could convince him to do almost anything, while the flame is still burning. But he just as easily moves on to the next object of his affection. He has a lot of love to give, and shares it freely with the world at every given chance.

He's prone to the most malfunctions due to being the oldest robot with the oldest parts on him. He stutters constantly, and may spasm and twitch due to crossed wires. Still, he refuses to be upgraded, and will rarely sit down long enough for repairs, never replacements. It's even a fight to scrub the patina from his copper, as he thinks it looks 'cool'. Though it worries The Spine, he never lets that bother him too much. He considers himself a work of art the way Pappy made him, and prefers to remain just the way he is. The real final result is that he is pretty clumsy and slow, not that he cares about that very much, and cannot be convinced otherwise to change his stripes any time soon.

Rabbit is overall a well meaning 'bot, if glitchy and obnoxious. He has a big 'heart', so to speak, and though he often gets in way over his head and starts problems, he's genuinely a nice person who loves his family. Even if he likes to tease them constantly. Silly, but usually pretty charming.

*Powers/Abilities: Laser lens array: A blue matter laser located in his eye. Decommissioned. Capable of atomizing matter it comes in contact with.
Gatling Gun. Decommissioned
Collapsable buzzsaw. Decommissioned
Flamethower. NOT decommissioned.
Capable of lifting objects up to a ton.
Excellent singing voice, skilled in playing both the melodica and the accordion. He can dance a little bit.
*Inventory: The clothes on his back, his hat and goggles, and his accordion.

*Starting Polarity: No preference!

Writing Samples
*First Person Sample: Hey!

[Copper all up in the screen, the blue and green eyes actually conveying something other than either childish glee or soul crushing boredom today]

A-any o' you out there see The Spine? H-how about Th' Jon? A-a-anyone?

[He pauses for a moment]

They're real ha-hard ta miss, Spine an' Jon. E-even with all the robuts here. Ya p-payin' attention out there?

The Spine is ta-taller'n me, we-wears all black? He's silver? Got green eyes, huge boy scout, might be se-se-se-seen pickin' up girly books ta read? He cries when he reads 'em yanno.

An' The Jon! He's b-brass, got red suspenders an' a t-t-top hat! Curly wig! Blue eyes! Cute lil' f-f-fella, look out fer him if ya see him. He'll s-s-see you first, d-don't let him get underfoot! I mean it!

If any of ya s-see 'em, send 'em my way! They're family.

*Third Person Sample:
He was... lonely. And bored, but mostly lonely. Unused to being without his siblings (or his humans), Rabbit was left to wander an alien city all on his own, without a clue as to what to do with himself. Oh it wasn't hard to make new friends, he could make plenty of those, but... It just wasn't the same without The Spine around to harass or Hatchworth to give him sandwiches or Michael Reed or... He kicked a stone as he wandered down a random street, humming a soft, mournful tune.

He should have stayed indoors today, he thought glumly to himself. Maybe wrote a song... No, he couldn't write without the other boys around. It just wasn't the same at all. Who would he have to sing it to for the first time? Or to play the notes? All by himself? He was great and all but he wasn't anything without the others around, now was he? A family... That's what he was missing so sorely here. Not that he had ever taken his family for granted before but now their loss just stung all the more.

Another corner turn, the copper bot plodding down a slightly more populated street. He wasn't going to pretend to be happy. What would be the point of that? He was never good at hiding what he felt anyway, it would just be an exercise in futility. There were a lot of things to think about, to weigh him down now as he headed back towards where he was staying here. He almost didn't want to let go of the dark and dismal mood overcoming him now. It would almost feel good to collapse into a bed at home and stare at a wall for a few hours in perfect loneliness. Though it wasn't as if doing that would bring his family here any faster.

He had to find some way to cheer himself up, but even the prospect of playing music was somewhat depressing. It didn't sound right without other voices around to sing along... Other voices. He paused. Maybe he could convince other people here to sing with him? Just for one night! It wouldn't be forever or anything... His pace sped up a little bit. He'd have to get an instrument and ask around, but someone might want to play a few songs! There had to be a few other musicians out there! That poor mood was quickly being turned on its head at the very idea that he might have found a way to cheer himself up, already setting some pretty high expectations.

Look out, city, he was going to make a band.
hailthenarc: (Default)
Mun Name: Squid
Journal: hailthenarc
Contact Info: AIM: Squiddlypeon
Other Characters: Soundwave, Rabbit, Xellos

Name Gavrill Veselov
From: The Dresden Files (Canon OC)
Appearance:With Glamor: Large. Very large. Seven feet tall with a broad chest, muscled arms and thick fingers. His legs are equally as strong looking, and frankly it appears as if the man can kick like a mule. His hair is mostly black, occasionally speckled with white here and there, apparently a little prematurely gray. The only bit of facial hair would be a goatee on his chin, no mustache to speak of.

While certainly large, nothing seems particularly inhuman about him, save for the oddly colored golden eyes. Has a tendancy to wear muted colors, not that big on anything loud or expressive.

Without Glamor: Slightly bigger by a few inches. Black hair is now white, from every last hair on his head to the goatee on his chin. All scrap of clothing was gone by this point, as pants didn't really work that well on digigrade goat legs. The fur on those would be pure white as well, and there's even a short, stubby tail in the back. The cloven hooves are simply massive, more appearing like a horses hoof if it wasn't for the split down the center.

His fingers are now clawed, each end sharp and looking like it could do a lot of damage should he see fit to use them, and a small pair of horns sit on his head, each one sharpened to a point.

Since he has eschewed pants, his lower regions are kept modest with a rather interesting looking loin cloth, nearly long enough to reach the ground, shimmering scales and mottled greens and blues suggesting whatever's hide it was, it wasn't an alligator.

The bear tooth necklace around his neck would also be a fashion staple, with teeth as long as his massive hands and as thick as one of his fingers.

Age: 25
Gender: Male
Personality: Loud, and obnoxiously moral to the point of it being almost a hinderence. He took pride in being a police officer, even though it was kind of a miracle he got in. He was a bit... slow. It wasn't the point of dehibilitating stupidity, but he was deeply naive, willing to believe the best out of his fellows, extremely gullible to the point of idiocy, and generally slow to pick up on any kind of slight of hand, trickery or deception on anyones part. But if he did catch whiff of it, it would be immediately called out, and loudly. He was a sucker, unfortunately, constantly falling for the sad eyes or the tragic tale, and always willing to help in whatever way he could.

It would be hard to find someone more by the book than Gavrill, whatever book he followed. It clearly had a great deal of rules in it, if his actions were of any indication. No drugs, no drinks, no sex, and he abstained from meat as if the stuff might make him explode on tasting it. It would almost be as if he were some sort of priest, if not for the complete lack of holy items on him. Any inquiry about religion would usually earn a blank stare from the man, though it was hard to believe someone was so sheltered that they hadn't learned of some kind of worship. Nevertheless, he had strong morals and a strong will that went with it. As stubborn as a mule really, and vocal about his problems with others lapses in morality. He was always willing to back up his outbursts too, whether it be with words alone or at the business end of a fist. The man was no coward, but not that bright to go along with it, so it was hard to tell if his bravery stemmed from sheer idiocy or from the strength of his morality.

He would certainly seem... sheltered, having an extreme black and white view of the world. What was good was good, and what was evil was evil, with barely any room for anything else between the two. The concept of something going deeper than such simplistic morality was almost entirely beyond him, and attempting to convince him otherwise was a fools errend. While he certainly always meant good, his adherence to the law, whatever it may be, put many people against him quickly, as forgiveness for some of the most simple of crimes was hard to obtain. Thieves of all colors, adulturers, liars and con men were all put in the same group, and usually met with the same kind of justice.

However, it was not so hard to gain favor with him. Friendliness, politeness and a willingness to share made an easy friend of Gavrill. It was easy to dupe the young man into thinking someone with the blackest heart was his best friend, and all it would take would be a hot meal and some pleasant conversation. Of course the quickest way to his heart would be through his stomach, though the wide, sad eyes of the needy or the tragic, tearful tale of the downtrodden would earn the owner a protector. Free of charge and free of questions too. His loyalty was always strong, and those who gained it would find someone willing to fight to the point of death for them. He was born to protect others, and protect them he would, even if it put him at odds with those far, far out of his league. His loyalty could be bought for little more than a sob story and a bite to eat, and could only be lost through deep betrayal. A heart of gold with the faith of a child.

Combat would see someone far different though. Almost a berzerker, willing to attack with anything he could grab, or even just his own two fists. The young man boasted a strength far surpassing that of any mere human, and could easily hurl things twice his weight if pressed to it. Though he disliked killing, violence was certainly not beyond him, and when he used his strength, he did not use it sparingly. There was no holding back in combat, and no hint of stopping until his opponent was either begging for mercy, or dead at his feet.

Backstory: Gavrill Veselov was born in 1987 in Tomsk, Siberia to a single mother living on the outskirts of town. He was a small child, smaller than most children his age, and weighed only five pounds at birth, despite being carried to full term. Though underweight, there was little the hospital staff could do to make him gain it, as he seemed to be otherwise very healthy and boistrous and strong for a baby his size, and his mother was sent home with a bouncing baby boy.

He stayed short for most of his prebuecance, but grew incredibly in strength, capable of lifting things many times his own weight and carrying them about the house as if he hardly took any issue with it at all. By the time he entered grade school he could easily carry his mother around should he so choose it, and was often left out of affairs with other children due to his habit of playing with them too hard and hurting them. He did eventually learn how to curb his emmense strength, though it was too late to salvage his social status, and he remained outside of the norm for the rest of his days at school.

Gavrill took up the mantle then of protecting those children who were ostrocized along with him, becoming something of a brawler and getting into trouble many times with the school staff. He was otherwise an average student, pulling down C's and B's if he applied himself to his work, and tended to be respectful and polite to people in positions of power. What he really admired were the police of Tomsk, and looked forward to the day of eventually policing the city himself. He took up an interest in several forms of self defense, such as Brazillian Jujitsu and Tae Kwon Do, and was in high school wrestling for a while, until his mother up and moved the both of them out of the country to the United States, New York at the age of fifteen.

There, he'd continue along the same vein he had in Tomsk, though he eventually learned how to deal with fights without having to hit anyone. The moment puberty hit, he'd suddenly have a lot easier time of dealing with people. Within a short span of time, the small, five foot two boy grew to six feet before he even reached senior year, and gained at least one more foot before graduating in the middle of his class. While he couldn't become an officer in Tomsk the way he wanted to, he chose to become a police officer for the small town of Oneonta that he was now being raised in.

But there is another side to Gavrill's history. The reason behind being such a strong, if tiny baby, and such a large, powerful adult. Gavrill's father, who was not around for the entirety of his life, was not human, but a faerie. Specifically, a gigantic, goat-like being called a Gruff. His mother had once been a child of nature, and had chosen to sleep with a Gruff in exchange for protection, but regretted the decision and converted to Russian Orthodox soon after. Gavrill was raised with religion, though it never did really take with him, but at the very least he carried, and still does carry the morals it taught to him.

Gavrill learned of his abilities at a young age, and began the transformation into a full blooded fae early in his life. It wasn't until he was in his teens and sporting half the body of a goat that he had second thoughts about where he wanted to be. While he couldn't give up the powers he'd already taken, mostly because he had relied on them so much through his life, he still refused to take the leap into true fae-dom, disliking the idea of no longer having free will. So he remains in the middle, caught between full fae and full human, unwilling to budge even as The Choice tries to drag him one way or the other.


Moral Standing: Lawful good. He follows the rules to a T, no matter what they might be. He upholds the law the way it is and endeavors to make sure everyone else follows the rules too.

Dreams: Decidedly undecided. When he first found out about The Wardens, the magical worlds Interpol essentially, he dreamed of becoming one of them. But due to his changeling status and unwillingness to accept either one of his parents kind, he isn't in the running to become one. He doesn't really have a plan either way, as he's kind of living in the moment right now, and his only real dream is to live to see next week be as boring as last week.

Fears: Losing his mother and the unknown mostly. He doesn't know what life would be like if he were either fully human or fully Gruff, and he's afraid to take that last leap in either direction and face what could either be a very long eternity or a very different sixty or so years.

He's also afraid to be himself. Russia is no place for a strange short little boy who fancies other men. On top of that, factor in a religious mother and a half faerie breeding, and he's really something that in his opinion should not be. He fears what might happen if he actually shows who he really is, fearful of losing dear friends and his own family if he ever lets the facade down. Not even his own mother knows the extent of his transformation after all, and he fully intends to keep it that way.

Extra: Physically, Gavrill is extremely powerful. It's where his gift mostly lies, being as strong as an ox and hard to damage. He threw most of himself into his physical wellbeing, and little attention was paid to his mental care.

That being said, Gavrill has a strong will, but is easily emotionally manipulated, with the right kind of sob story he'll believe anything. He's not that clever either, and quite naive, though when it comes to fellow magical beings he's a little less willing to bend on his personal rules. After all, he knows how crafty a fae can be.

Abilities: (Based off the Dresden Files game)
Supernatural Strength
Supernatural Toughness
Glamors (Creates veils and seemings)
Echoes of the Beast (Enhanced sense of smell, talks to hooved animals)
Claws


Character Location: His apartment in Oneonta. It's an old Townhouse with a few small apartments inside. He's laid claim to a room upstairs, where most of the furniture is coated in white fur. He tells visitors that he has a dog that's sick at the vets. And doesn't tend to invite people back a second time.

Samples: N/A

Writing Sample: Salute?

[There's a big thumb in the way of the screen for a moment, but at least he's figured out that this thing can transmit messages. He can read! He waits for a second, before mumbling something in Russian, and moving his thumb away, big gold eyes staring into the screen.]

Ah. There. Hello! I was eh... looking... for something. Maybe a clothes shop? Or a thrift store? I need a coat. My last one is... not good anymore.

[He toys with the tatters of an old leather jacket, the broad smile on his face turning sheepish]

It is nothing, ran into some trouble at home before I eh... appeared on the train.

[There really didn't seem to be a better word for it than appeared.]

And maybe someone could show me around? Just a little! I would like to see the city, since I am now stuck here. May as well, right? Just once, I have a good memory, I will remember no problem. Just once and then I will ask no more.
hailthenarc: (Default)

Player Information



Name: Squid
Personal Journal: hailthenarc
Age: 23
Contact Info: AIM: Squiddlypeon, plurk: Squiddly
Other Characters Played: Rabbit Walter


Character Information



Character Name: Xellos
Character Series: Slayers
Character Age: 1013
Character Gender: Identifies as male, presents as male, technically genderless.
Original Canon
Canon Point: Directly after stealing and running away with Galvera.
Background Link: Xellos was created primarily for a war. That's pretty much it. He was made to combat the dragons, the envoys of the gods, and was given twice as much power as the usual monstrous minion would typically be given. Usually, a monster lord made a general and a priest, and split their power evenly between them. However, in Zelas's case, she created one underling, Xellos, from a fraction of her own physical being and blessed him with double the strength either a general or a priest would have. Effectively, Xellos is both general and priest to Beastmaster Zelas.

Shortly after being created, Xellos was sent out to do what he was made for: Exterminate the enemy. Singlehandedly, he wiped out an entire clan of golden dragons, and went on to kill far more than that all in the name of his mistress.

This carried on for a few centuries until the end of the war, when the monsters were finally forced back and retreated to their home worlds. Xellos, however, was left on the front line to continue to mess with the will of the gods. Zelas sent him on a one thousand year long mission to destroy any and all manuscripts of the claire bible that existed, in order to keep them out of the hands of humans and dragons alike. After all, the claire bible contained information that could possibly lead to the creation of a spell or a weapon that could destroy a monster in one hit, and they certainly didn't want that to happen.

And so for about one thousand years, Xellos wandered the lands, destroying bible manuscripts where ever he went and generally being a big fat pain in the ass to everyone, when he ran into the wrong/right group of people. Actually, he was under the orders of Hellmaster at this time, though still continuing to do his usual job of destroying manuscripts, and had been ordered by the monster lord to keep an eye on these particular humans, Lina and the Gang. So really it only looked like an accident that he'd run into them. Through out the course of a year, he used Lina to destroy more manuscripts, hunt out possible new ones, and kill some old enemies, before eventually leading her right into one of Hellmasters traps. But that happened after, and only after he'd allowed her the right to read the one true claire bible and learn possibly the most powerful spell ever to be bestowed upon a human.

It was all in Hellmasters plan for her to learn this attack, so that she might be used as a conduit for a world destroying force. However, instead of destroying all of reality, this force used her to destroy Hellmaster himself, and simply restored Lina to her body.

None of this bothered Xellos at all and he happily went back to his usual job of blowing up claire bibles and working for Zelas again. In the following year, he used Lina to stop the world from coming to an end, by helping her find a series of mysterious weapons and put them to use against a force not of their own universe. It's a long and convoluted tale that involves a great deal more backstabbing and manipulation, but it ends with Xellos managing to get his way in the end and prevent the entire world from crumbling to pieces around him.

Personality: Xellos is and will always be a trickster. His intentions are usually unreadable, and he may either help or hinder the people he is ‘working’ with at any given time. He can’t always be placed as a villain, but he certainly isn’t a good guy either. It all depends on what his ultimate goal happens to be at the time, and if that goal involves helping the ‘good guys’, then he’ll do it without batting an eye, all the while making sure that the other side isn’t harboring some lovely necessities that he could peddle his services for. He is self-serving with loyalties only towards his master, arrogant, highly intelligent, somewhat sadomasochistic, and obnoxious as all holy hell.

That being said, Xellos is normally very polite, addressing those he knows and meets with the title Miss or Mister. He initially comes off as eccentric and a touch ‘off’, but otherwise seemingly friendly and more or less harmless; chock full of stories and apparently ‘useful’ information that he is more than willing to share… to an extent, at least. He takes a great deal of enjoyment out of withholding information more than he does sharing it, and it can be said that he gives out said information for the sole purpose of leaving out some of the best bits and watching the offended party rage about it. He doesn’t even usually have to work that hard to get his targets cross, as he usually likes picking out the ones that are the easiest to piss off in the first place.

Not only does he do this to enjoy a bit of rage, he seems to like intentionally leading people on wild goose chases with his information. Not to say that the information is wrong. Just misleading merely by merit of omission, leaving people to concoct their own conclusions and form their own opinions. Which more often than not leads people to inspecting towers haunted by sentient puppets, engaging in magical, highly dangerous tennis and dressing in very convincing drag, all because Xellos implied that there might be something shiny in the end. When it comes to fully explaining anything, or answering personal questions about himself, the monster simply answers with “That is a secret”, and tends to leave it at that, much to the chagrin of any poor fool who asked the question in the first place. One of his titles is “The Mysterious Priest” for a very good reason: Xellos loves his secrets, and more than that, he loves lording said secrets over the unfortunates who come to rely on his help.

Why would he even bother to do this? Well, partially to absorb the negative emotions that usually come spilling out after one finds out that that they spent forty days and forty nights digging under an old oak tree for the mystical and magical equivalent of a box of dingdongs and a Cracker Jack prize. The main reason he leads people astray, however, is to guide them away from whatever the hell they were looking for before, or to use them as the go-fors for his own personal interests. He dislikes getting his hands dirty, and prefers to let others do all the actual heavy labor for him, perhaps even answer a few questions for him while they’re at it, all without the aforementioned party ever finding out that he was using them the whole time. He’s not exactly lazy, just easily bored and this is his definition of a good time. He is motivated usually by orders or hunger, but if left to his own devices, boredom and curiosity come into play and he will entertain himself by, say, causing a small scale riot when a certain cadre of friends stroll into town with well-placed frogs, information dropping and teleportation.

On that note, Xellos also rather dislikes getting into fights. He has, after all, spent a lot of time perfecting his friendly, polite, harmless and obnoxious image. Getting into a scrap tends to ruin that image pretty quickly, especially when one of the feats Xellos is best known for is blowing up a clan of dragons all by himself. He will usually tend towards fleeing rather than fighting, and is completely unfazed by insults regarding his bravery, manhood, the lilliness of his liver and so on. He seemingly has no issue with shirking all responsibility involving fights that he himself helped start, teleporting out to leave any other unfortunate people who associate with him at the mercy of the opposing, pissed off force. Indeed, he’s been called out on this before, responding to “you’re just running away?!” with “you could put it that way, yes.” He honestly does not care, and has very little to prove to anyone. It takes a lot more than being called a chicken to hurt his pride.

If he is forced into a battle however, the results are usually not very pretty. See, Xellos doesn’t much care about anyone, and if he is left with no choice but to fight, he doesn’t feel even a little bit of pity towards the person who put him in the position. He is well known in the monster world and among dragons for being ruthless, cruel and above all, powerful. The monster takes a great deal of preening glee out of torturing his opponents both physically and mentally, mocking them as he cuts them apart and impales them. He does it without the slightest bit of remorse, but ultimately would have preferred not to have been brought to such a point. He actually has quite an impressive amount of patience, and tolerates almost all levels of name calling and personal threats. He’s weathered being called insane, fresh garbage, creepy, obnoxious and nosey, as well as tolerated being put into headlocks, kicked, turned into a doll, smacked with a fan and preached to about the glory and goodness of life and love until he was ready to puke. As was stated earlier, it takes a lot to harm Xellos’ considerable pride. Rather like trying to pop the Good Year Blimp with a bee sting. He is very self-confident and doesn’t have to rely on anyone telling him he’s awesome to feel good about himself. He just knows he is.

He does have a few people that he becomes personally interested in, though perhaps it is safe to say that his interest stems more from curiosity, how easy they are to piss off, and sometimes even grudging respect, rather than actually liking them. It takes a great deal to earn the monsters actual respect. Xellos is highly arrogant, and anything that isn’t his master or the Lord of Nightmares is more or less either treated with apathy, or is looked down upon in some form or another. Though Almayce gained his utmost concern (Immune to his attacks as he was), most others, even monster lords (Or in Gaav’s case, former lords) tend towards either the aforementioned apathy or inferiority. His respect for Hellmaster merely came from him first of all being ordered to obey him by his master, and second from his own sense of self preservation. One does not piss off the being that can painfully unmake you as quickly or as slowly as he likes. Xellos never actually liked being told to obey Hellmaster, and probably never much liked Hellmaster or his plans either. In fact, he will often assist the very party that he is supposed to be hindering, as long as there were no direct orders against doing so. Xellos adores exploiting loopholes, and will often play every side of the field to his greatest benefit. If his master gives him enough wiggle room, he will happily work for every possible player in the game, moving from helping Lina, to stealing shit from Lina, to saving Lina all in the same season. He even assisted the very being that the gang had originally been fighting, only to betray everyone and attempt to fuck them all over. Which… he kind of did, nabbing the ancient artifact they were all after and running off with it.

Needless to say, it takes a very special person to either gain the monsters respect… or enough of his ire to actually go out of his way to make your life hell. While Lina was highly intelligent and powerful with a hair trigger, she also acknowledged Xellos’ abilities, and thus they mutually have at least some form of respect for the other. In fact, it is because of this power and hair trigger that he tends to like following her, enjoying the chaos that Lina usually sows where ever she goes. Filia however, is still alive mostly because he has no reason to kill her, dislikes fighting as it is… and she gives him long, mirthful hours of entertainment as he personally takes time out of his day to make sure she is as angry as possible. The dragon did herself no favors, calling him garbage, openly insulting his master and him, arguing with everything he said and trying to muck up every good plan he had. He simply had no choice but to make her miserable right back and one can be assured that if given enough reason, he will gleefully do this to anyone else.

Xellos does have a few things that he personally cannot stand, perhaps even fears on a certain level. He dislikes lying, and has actually admitted that he likes to refrain from it as much as possible. It seems he also doesn’t enjoy it when other parties lie… at least when it negatively impacts his own current plans. He’s also not terribly fond of bold faced rudeness towards him (FILIA). While he will obey his master without question, he hardly enjoys being told what to do, or being treated like any other lackey, and has subtly threatened the last person who attempted to order him around. It seems the only reason he puts up with it from Lina is because both of them are aware that both parties are capable of destroying the other. What he actually seems to fear though, is being helpless. There is only one point in the anime where he seemed genuinely frightened, and that was when Almayce came. His own magic and abilities, so potent in this world, would do nothing to him, and in turn Almayce was perfectly capable of wiping Xellos out without even having to try. While he will accept death should his master wish it, the idea of being killed by anyone outside of his world seemed to be actually terrifying.

Xellos clearly has a bit of difficulty fully acting human. While he can get down the basics, the appearance, and the sound and to an extent, the reactions, when a situation turns more extreme his true colors start to shine through. When Lina and the gang stepped into a purportedly haunted tower, and actually found haunted dolls way the hell all over the place, Xellos’s reaction was to… make the situation worse and scare the shit out of everyone… just for the giggles. The reawakening of an ancient, giant train that would plow through several towns before it came to a stop just made him laugh, before commenting that he really had to get going, and promptly teleporting out. Even getting his ass kicked by Gaav, his arm blasted off and clearly in a great deal of pain, Xellos was still mocking and utterly defiant. It seems he is incapable of really understanding typical human emotions, for as much as he feeds off of them. He isn’t really immoral as much as he is amoral, with only a cursory understanding of human morality, and adhering to a code of ethics that really mostly benefits him in the end. While Xellos has saved people with no apparent reward for himself in the end, it’s very difficult to say just why he did it. It could be said that it was merely for the sake of something to do, or perhaps he has become somewhat attached to humanity (considering all the times he has actually helped save people more than kill them). Of course, asking Xellos this question will get one nowhere.

In the end, Xellos is a highly complex creature, whose words and actions often contradict each other. The only ‘side’ he is loyal to is his own, personal side, and his motives and desires are more often than not completely indecipherable. He will say he wants to help, while simultaneously impeding all efforts to complete the task. He will stop what he is doing to rescue someone, even while he claims that there is no reason for him to do so. And he will never explain himself. Because that would take all the fun out of it.


Abilities: Hold on kids this is a long one. Just tell me if his powers need to be scaled back.
Teleportation: By picking up his physical projection and dropping it somewhere else, he can teleport around the place. He uses this ability the most out of all of them.

Destructive magic: From blowing up dragons to creating balls of pure black magic, Xellos is a master at destruction.

Mild Shapeshifting: Mostly to a female form and back. He has perfected a human appearance and generally sticks with it.

Invulnerability towards physical attacks: If it can't connect with his astral form, it can't connect at all, though he can fake being hit and pretend to bleed and take damage.

Flight: Right as it says on the box.

Super strength: He can lift Filia, who weighs as much as a dragon due to her inexperience with taking a human form. He can also hold a full grown man with one hand.

Super speed: Xellos can dart around in the blink of an eye even without his teleportation, and has used this before to snatch up pieces of manuscript before Zelgadis could get to them.

Sample Entry: http://ink-city.dreamwidth.org/514058.html?thread=38219530#cmt38219530
hailthenarc: (Default)
Mun Name: Squid
Journal: Hailthenarc
Contact Info: AIM: Squiddlypeon
Other Characters: Soundwave, Xellos, Mordecai

Name Rabbit Walter
From: Steam Powered Giraffe
Appearance: http://media.tumblr.com/61bc73da4d8d16a915faec6cd1f3b248/tumblr_inline_miizwr10P01qz4rgp.gif
Age: One hundred and seventeen
Gender: MALE
Personality: Rabbit is nuts. No really, he's nuts. After over a hundred years of functioning and refusing upgrades, he is certifiably off his rocker. He was always on the eccentric side but since the wars and all that living he's done, it's safe to say the copper 'bot has more than a few screws loose in that head of his. He can be a selfish, childish, impish brat who can and will make a mess of everything he touches just simply for the sake of doing it because why not? A little ego monster too, his head is pretty darn swollen, what with being the oldest of his brothers, Colonel Peter Walter's (Pappy) first robot, pretty talented in the singing and music making division and all around snappy dresser. None of that persona is usually faked, he honestly feels that proud about himself, and he loves to lord it over his siblings even if, as they put it, he's aged like a fine milk.

Rabbit really is a few cards shy of a deck though. He lives in extremes almost every second of his life, subtlety does not come easily to him. One moment he could be wonderously happy, flitting about the manor and making talk with everyone else and being generally content with life. The next, he's bored, and making everyone's life as inconvieniant as possible, whether it be tromping through the house at 1 AM with his accordion, drawing faces on The Jon, pranking The Spine or trying to eat the next door neighbors cat whole. He has a fantastically bad temper to go along with this, and can spiral into a crushing depression if he suspects they did poorly in a show or if his feelings are damaged badly enough. He can become quite moody at the drop of a hat, and may refuse to leave his room for days on end if he felt badly enough. Only to emerge from it a ball of energy all over again.

One simple way to see Rabbit angry though, is to either insult his Pappy or endanger his family. He loves his family more than anything, and he is willing to risk life and limb to make sure they are safe. He is, after all, the oldest, and therefore the man of the house. Protecting them is up to him. Though his weapons were locked away from him after the wars, he still possesses his flame thrower, and a blue matter laser lens array, which is put to use when he puts his goggles down. He dislikes combat as a whole though, and while he may talk tough and bluster his way around, he usually won't stoop to fighting unless absolutely necessary. He isn't in the business of hurting people anymore after all. Annoying them maybe, but not directly hurting. He still carries with him a great deal of guilt when his core was stolen from him and vaporized two people, mutating a third. Though he certainly couldn't help it, it haunts him to this day, and it is a considerable weight that he carries on his shoulders, along with the wars he was in.

What Rabbit does love to do is to make music. He is a sucker for love songs, and has written several (even if one of them was for a toaster). He falls in love quickly and deeply, and loves intensely from the first day. He even says it in one of his songs that he only just saw his love when he knew he loved her. He has a long list of lovers, consisting of a toaster, a blender, and one night stand, though he has fallen in love with a more sentient being before (and lost her, if Honeybee is of any indication). He is... ninty percent straight, with only the occasional exception, and will typically flirt with any pretty woman. Or attractive appliance. He is very easy to manipulate while he has his crush, a pretty face could convince him to do almost anything, while the flame is still burning. But he just as easily moves on to the next object of his affection. He has a lot of love to give, and shares it freely with the world at every given chance.

He's prone to the most malfunctions due to being the oldest robot with the oldest parts on him. He stutters constantly, and may spasm and twitch due to crossed wires. Still, he refuses to be upgraded, and will rarely sit down long enough for repairs, never replacements. It's even a fight to scrub the patina from his copper, as he thinks it looks 'cool'. Though it worries The Spine, he never lets that bother him too much. He considers himself a work of art the way Pappy made him, and prefers to remain just the way he is. The real final result is that he is pretty clumsy and slow, not that he cares about that very much, and cannot be convinced otherwise to change his stripes any time soon.

Rabbit is overall a well meaning 'bot, if glitchy and obnoxious. He has a big 'heart', so to speak, and though he often gets in way over his head and starts problems, he's genuinely a nice person who loves his family. Even if he likes to tease them constantly. Silly, but usually pretty charming.

Backstory: Rabbit was built in 1969 by Colonel Peter A. Walter, the first of three robots that ran off steam and the mysterious Blue Matter, a substance that appeared to keep reality bound together. While just a head on a table, Rabbit practically named himself when, in excitement, Peter pointed to a rabbit in a cage and told the copper head what it was. Rabbit repeated it... and then refused to say anything else for the next several hours. The name just stuck.

He was originally made to make music with his brothers, The Spine and The Jon (to impress a lady), but tragedy and panic struck the Walter household when it came to light that his nemesis, Thadeus Becile, had made rampaging copper elephants and was attacking innocent people in Africa. With a heavy heart, Peter equipped his robots for war, and sent them into battle with the elephants.

They won the day, but the battles left psychological scars on the robots. Unfortunately, it wouldn't be their last fight, as they were drafted into World War I, II and Vietnam in succession. Rabbit quickly learned to hate war and killing, and even directly went against orders to rescue men rather than engage in battle. They were taken captive during Vietnam, and held for several years by the Vietcong before their battered, seemingly lifeless chassis' were returned to the states.

But after being repaired, they set right back into what they were originally crafted to do: Make music. Rabbit is the only bot to possess all his old clockwork parts, and like his brothers has taken a vow of peace and had (most) of his weapons locked away from him. Though they were popular in the few years after the wars (and in the 20's), their popularity faded over time after several failed attempts to hoist them back into the lime light (including a failed stint as a boy band and re purposing The Jon to run off Crystal Pepsi).

They started busking on the streets of San Diego, and soon made a name for themselves among steam punk fanatics and robot lovers.

Currently, they live in The Walter Mansion, and travel out to do concerts far and wide.

Moral Standing: Good. He's a good 'bot, just a little on the nutty side.

Dreams: Steam Powered Giraffe becoming as popular as it used to be, and getting to sing all over the world one day. He loves his job dearly.

Fears: Losing his brothers or anyone else in his family, getting his parts replaced, anyone messing with his chassis or his head.

Extra: Rabbit is still fully weaponized, but he no longer uses his weapon. The only weapon Rabbit has been seen to use is his flame thrower.

He plays the melodica and the accordion, and can probably pick up on any other keyed instrument rather quickly.

Excellent singing voice.

Character Location: The Walter Mansion with The Spine

Samples: http://steampoweredgiraffe.smackjeeves.com/comics/1358079/page-9-rabbit-the-robot/

Writing Sample: I'm Rabbit!
hailthenarc: (Default)
PLAYER
Name: Squid
Personal Journal: Hailthenarc
E-mail: notthatwitty@yahoo.com
AIM/MSN/etc: AIM: Squiddlypeon

CHARACTER
Name: Rabbit Walter
Canon: Steam Powered Girafee
Timeline: Recent day, shortly after a concert.


Personality: Rabbit is nuts. No really, he's nuts. After over a hundred years of functioning and refusing upgrades, he is certifiably off his rocker. He was always on the eccentric side but since the wars and all that living he's done, it's safe to say the copper 'bot has more than a few screws loose in that head of his. He can be a selfish, childish, impish brat who can and will make a mess of everything he touches just simply for the sake of doing it because why not? A little ego monster too, his head is pretty darn swollen, what with being the oldest of his brothers, Colonel Peter Walter's (Pappy) first robot, pretty talented in the singing and music making division and all around snappy dresser. None of that persona is usually faked, he honestly feels that proud about himself, and he loves to lord it over his siblings even if, as they put it, he's aged like a fine milk.

Rabbit really is a few cards shy of a deck though. He lives in extremes almost every second of his life, subtlety does not come easily to him. One moment he could be wonderously happy, flitting about the manor and making talk with everyone else and being generally content with life. The next, he's bored, and making everyone's life as inconvieniant as possible, whether it be tromping through the house at 1 AM with his accordion, drawing faces on The Jon, pranking The Spine or trying to eat the next door neighbors cat whole. He has a fantastically bad temper to go along with this, and can spiral into a crushing depression if he suspects they did poorly in a show or if his feelings are damaged badly enough. He can become quite moody at the drop of a hat, and may refuse to leave his room for days on end if he felt badly enough. Only to emerge from it a ball of energy all over again.

One simple way to see Rabbit angry though, is to either insult his Pappy or endanger his family. He loves his family more than anything, and he is willing to risk life and limb to make sure they are safe. He is, after all, the oldest, and therefore the man of the house. Protecting them is up to him. Though his weapons were locked away from him after the wars, he still possesses his flame thrower, and a blue matter laser lens array, which is put to use when he puts his goggles down. He dislikes combat as a whole though, and while he may talk tough and bluster his way around, he usually won't stoop to fighting unless absolutely necessary. He isn't in the business of hurting people anymore after all. Annoying them maybe, but not directly hurting. He still carries with him a great deal of guilt when his core was stolen from him and vaporized two people, mutating a third. Though he certainly couldn't help it, it haunts him to this day, and it is a considerable weight that he carries on his shoulders, along with the wars he was in.

What Rabbit does love to do is to make music. He is a sucker for love songs, and has written several (even if one of them was for a toaster). He falls in love quickly and deeply, and loves intensely from the first day. He even says it in one of his songs that he only just saw his love when he knew he loved her. He has a long list of lovers, consisting of a toaster, a blender, and one night stand, though he has fallen in love with a more sentient being before (and lost her, if Honeybee is of any indication). He is... ninty percent straight, with only the occasional exception, and will typically flirt with any pretty woman. Or attractive appliance. He is very easy to manipulate while he has his crush, a pretty face could convince him to do almost anything, while the flame is still burning. But he just as easily moves on to the next object of his affection. He has a lot of love to give, and shares it freely with the world at every given chance.

He's prone to the most malfunctions due to being the oldest robot with the oldest parts on him. He stutters constantly, and may spasm and twitch due to crossed wires. Still, he refuses to be upgraded, and will rarely sit down long enough for repairs, never replacements. It's even a fight to scrub the patina from his copper, as he thinks it looks 'cool'. Though it worries The Spine, he never lets that bother him too much. He considers himself a work of art the way Pappy made him, and prefers to remain just the way he is. The real final result is that he is pretty clumsy and slow, not that he cares about that very much, and cannot be convinced otherwise to change his stripes any time soon.

Rabbit is overall a well meaning 'bot, if glitchy and obnoxious. He has a big 'heart', so to speak, and though he often gets in way over his head and starts problems, he's genuinely a nice person who loves his family. Even if he likes to tease them constantly. Silly, but usually pretty charming.


First Person: Anyone wanna hear a song?

[What time is it? If you guess three AM you wouldn't be wrong. No Rabbit, three AM is not a good time for song time what are you even doing-]

I'm takin' requests! I can go all night!

[On the accordion, he squeezes out a few pleasant notes, before sharply decending into complete mayhem. He'd like to call this little number No One Gets to Sleep in E sharp. The preformance is occasionally broken by disjointed laughter, either the bot is glitching hard tonight or this is really his idea of an excellent time]

Or w-we could pl-play hide n' seek! How 'bout it? I'm hi-hidin'! C-c-come an' fi-find me!

[Another bout of laughter as he spins in his seat, pressing every button he could possibly press on the accordion and letting out with a god awful blast of garbled notes]

F-first one to find me is th' winner!

Third Person: He was... lonely. And bored, but mostly lonely. Unused to being without his siblings (or his humans), Rabbit was left to wander an alien city all on his own, without a clue as to what to do with himself. Oh it wasn't hard to make new friends, he could make plenty of those, but... It just wasn't the same without The Spine around to harass or Hatchworth to give him sandwiches or Michael Reed or... He kicked a stone as he wandered down a random street, humming a soft, mournful tune.

He should have stayed indoors today, he thought glumly to himself. Maybe wrote a song... No, he couldn't write without the other boys around. It just wasn't the same at all. Who would he have to sing it to for the first time? Or to play the notes? All by himself? He was great and all but he wasn't anything without the others around, now was he? A family... That's what he was missing so sorely here. Not that he had ever taken his family for granted before but now their loss just stung all the more.

Another corner turn, the copper bot plodding down a slightly more populated street. He wasn't going to pretend to be happy. What would be the point of that? He was never good at hiding what he felt anyway, it would just be an exercise in futility. There were a lot of things to think about, to weigh him down now as he headed back towards where he was staying here. He almost didn't want to let go of the dark and dismal mood overcoming him now. It would almost feel good to collapse into a bed at home and stare at a wall for a few hours in perfect loneliness. Though it wasn't as if doing that would bring his family here any faster.

He had to find some way to cheer himself up, but even the prospect of playing music was somewhat depressing. It didn't sound right without other voices around to sing along... Other voices. He paused. Maybe he could convince other people here to sing with him? Just for one night! It wouldn't be forever or anything... His pace sped up a little bit. He'd have to get an instrument and ask around, but someone might want to play a few songs! There had to be a few other musicians out there! That poor mood was quickly being turned on its head at the very idea that he might have found a way to cheer himself up, already setting some pretty high expectations.

Look out, city, he was going to make a band.
hailthenarc: (Default)
Mun Name: Squid

Journal: hailthenarc

Contact Info: squiddlypeon on AIM

Other Characters: Skyfire, Jailbot, GLaDOS, Six, Soundwave

Name: Squid

From: REAL FUCKIN' LIFE

Appearance: A large, 56 foot tall squid/octopus creature. Pink from mantle-witch-hat to tentacle tip with the occasional red spot. She has red hair that is cut in a reverse bob under the mantle-hat. Eight legs, two long arms, suction cups on all of them. Careful, they have teeth and barbs. Her teeth are very sharp and when she lifts the brim of her hat it's pretty clear she might have more than two eyes under there.

Age: 23

Gender: Female. Very female.

Personality: Loud, proud. Out there and happy to be there. Squid is large and in charge and she knows it, bringing to the table a personality as vibrant and stunning as her hot pink coloration. Though she looks like some kind of sea-witch gone wrong, no worries, there's no magic to be had. Well, save for the rapid changes in size with her growing and shrinking down to three feet tall. Her personality does not change with the difference in size, she's just as in-your-face as a fifty six foot tall monster as she is being a small squishy pain in the ass.

Squid is perhaps, not the most delicate of creatures on first contact. Her language is coarse and often violent as is her actions. She is just as likely to tell someone to go fuck themselves as she is to tell them she loves them, and probably have it be the same person. Words seem to be a constant thing with her, as she continuously talks, unwilling for a moment to actually shut up for long enough for her conversational partner to get a word in edgewise. She steamrolls over people in conversations, and will sometimes do this almost literally just in case the object of her affection attempts to sneak away from her while she apparently isn't paying attention.

Just as words are constant, movement is constant, and she loves to talk with her hands. Of course, no part of her is Italian but she does occasionally slip into a Bostonian accent from time to time. Just watch out, sometimes those tentacle flails are actual attacks. Very little stands between her and smacking some bitch down across the parking lot, and it's very easy to get her to lose her temper. Call her a name? You'll get swatted. Imply that she might not be as smart as she claims she is? That might also earn a swat. Call her fat? Well then she'll just sit on you and then were will you be? Crushed under several tons of kalamari that's where. She has ten limbs that she is not afraid to use at any given time, and suckers on each and every one of them. She is a very clingy creature and enjoys touching and feeling everyone who attracts her more positive attention, whether they be cute little doggies or giant robots. No one is safe from her, it doesn't matter how important they are.

Along with that 'touchy feely' personality comes a strange obsession with the perverted. She has several files of not safe for work pictures on her little underwater laptop, and wields them like a weapon, more than happy to take out the childhood of everyone around her like a tentacle porn filled H-Bomb. Nothing is safe from this and nothing is sacred enough to warrant not being targeted by a caffeine fueled foray into the darkest pits of the internet for some of the most horrible pictures she can find. Her comments sometimes stray into the lewd, especially with people that she 'likes', and double entendres are commonplace.

Unfortuantely with that bold personality comes the belief that all of her ideas are excellent ideas. She has no forethought, she firmly lives in the present at all times. Though it is fair to say she has excellent hindsight and will hold grudges long into the future, and plans revenge for twice as long. She will run into things headlong without thinking about them first and only has the occasional regret. Usually if it effects her directly. Otherwise, if it only punishes the people around her, she doesn't seem to care very much. It isn't that she is genuinely a horrible person, it just doesn't occur to her that her actions might possibly damage other people. On the rare occasions where it does actually sink in, she will try to ammend it, but her attempts to fix problems usually go as well as her former attempt to not start them.

Squid also has a habit of drinking, and usually has a bottle hidden on her at all times. Though the beverage of choice is normally vodka, she has been known to give in to bourbon, rum and the occasional sip of lady-like wine every so often. Of course, alcohol only makes her personality more out there, and usually more violent, coupled with being clumsy and more likely to fall across someone and demand to be hugged and adored.

Backstory: Squid was formed as an alternate image to a lonely shut in living in New York. Squid herself lives in the Mariana Trench, where she managed to find a compter that magically doesn't fritz out underwater and hooked it up to a sunken nuclear sub. From there, she blogs about her life underwater and eats the occasional diver.

Life for her started as a wee baby squid living slightly higher, eating whatever she could to remain alive in the cold dark abyss that is the ocean. She grew to hate sperm whales, and has battled many in her long life of 23 years. Long exposure to the nuclear submarine at the bottom of the trench has mutated her, giving her an exceptionally long life and a strange, human like form. Like a squid-maid. It has also given her the ability to compress her form into a tiny, three foot tall chubby manifestation of herself, though still capable of eating large amounts of food in very short amounts of time.

Brushes with real humanity doesn't happen very often, and she relies on the internet to teach her everything she needs to know about people. Of course, this might explain her language and her up front personality. It also explains her deep love of odd television shows and strange, Japanese artwork. When she did once run into a deep sea diving vessel in her home, she promptly popped it open like a pringles can and ate whatever was on the inside. A big squid has to eat, after all. That was how she got her biology degree, someone brought it along inside the vessel and now she has one. She considers herself a real biologist now and keeps the degree right next to the outcropping where she sleeps.

Moral Standing: Works under neutral, but is probably secretly at the very least kind of good.

Dreams: She wishes to have her way with everything, to be rich and famous and well loved, and to finally be adored for being the awesome squid that she really is.

Fears: Soy sauce.

Extra: Did I mention she can shrink and grow at will? Because she can totally do that.
She has a lot of teeth. A lot of teeth.

Squid has appoximately four eyes. Two main ones and then two little ones on the sides of her head. It's usually hidden by bangs and the mantle though.

Never bet against her. Not because she never loses but because when she does lose she throws a temper tantrum and breaks everything around her in a rage.

Character Location: In the ocean next to her nuclear submarine.

Samples: n/a

Writing Sample: Hey, does anyone know where I can find Deny Doppit street?

[The oversized pink squid was on the communicator again, her image distorted by the water around her. THe faint green glow of nuclear material hums brightly next to her, though she doesn't seem to pay it any mind]

We need to build a liquor store there. I'm running low on my everything and I need more stocked. Just in case I ever have a party down here. I know some of you don't need to breathe up there so whoever is not bothered by being several hundred feet below sea-level is welcome to a party at my place. The rest of you can just deal with never having fun ever.

[The squid indicates a small collection of half empty bottles behind her]

Also who was the smart ass throwing bottles in my ocean? Which one of you fuckers did it? That's goddamn littering, you get your ass over here and clean this shit up right now. What if I got a tentacle stuck on one of them? Or it messed up my house? I live down here, man, I gotta keep my digs clean and it's hard to do with some inconsiderate bastard throwing empty bottles of jack down here. The least you could do is make sure they're full. Or with a cheeseburger in saran wrap.

Speaking of which I need some pizza immediately so anyone who wants to be helpful and not have to worry about swimming for the next three weeks can go find me a pepperoni pizza with extra cheese. Just tie a rock to it and throw it as far as you can, I'll find it.
hailthenarc: (Default)
Mun Name: Squid

Journal: hailthenarc

Contact Info: AIM: Squiddlypeon

Other Characters: Soundwave, Skyfire, GLaDOS, Six

Name: Jailbot

From: Superjail

Appearance:

Age: Only a few years old. About as old as Superjail is. About ten, perhaps?

Gender: Male

Personality: Jailbot is a violent, psychotic, sadistic AI, that much is clear. With enough weapons on him to kit out an army, he was made for one purpose: Complete and total subjugation of criminals, and to apprehend those that break the law. No mercy, no regret, he can work without tiring for as long as it takes to get the job done. However there are a few more levels to Jailbot than just a kill-for-fun sadist.

While it may sometimes seem that Jailbot has no empathy (considering he can mow through a multitude of inmates without batting a single pixil eye), he actually does have a soft side. Namely, he has a certain amount of empathy for children, as is seen when he makes an ice cream cone for a weeping child, and transforms into a sleigh for miserable hospitalized children. Granted, in both cases, he was partially the reason the children were upset in the first place, but he at least puts effort into making them happy again, seeming to gather joy from pleasing children. That is not to say that he wouldn't actually still be dangerous to a child, especially if the Warden told him to get rid of one. Which in fact, he does do.

He also loves the Warden, deeply and unerringly. He would do absolutely anything for the Warden, seeing him as a sort of father figure. Indeed, it is because of the Warden that he is even alive to this day, so it's no wonder he has so many feelings for him. If the Warden tells him to do something, he will work until that job is done, no matter what it may be. From fighting a blob of living human body parts and organs to chasing down a tiny little scorpion through five different dimensions, nothing is too much to ask of Jailbot when it comes to the Warden.

Typically otherwise, Jailbot is at best ambivalent towards human life as a whole. Anyone in his way while he's trying to accomplish a task is just so much meat. He has killed hundreds if not thousands of inmates to do something as simple as kill a fly, and he's destroyed buildings, police cars, helicopters and a multitude of God knows what else in order to do something as simple as apprehend Jacknife. He seems to take a certain amount of glee out of torturing some of the inmates, and even the staff of Superjail (mostly Jared). He's almost impossible to reason with when it comes to carrying out his job, and anyone who tries to stop him is usually quickly taken care of in the most violent and efficiant way possible. It wouldn't really be fair to say he kills at random however. Mostly he kills because he was told to, or just because his target is obscured by several fleshy bodies.

That is not to say that Jailbot cannot form any kind of kinship with anyone other than the Warden. He actually did express mercy and friendship towards Jacknife once, trapped outside of Superjail and fighting for his life in order to get back. They bonded over their loved ones (The Warden vs Naked boobs), fought monsters together, and Jailbot even saved Jacknife's life quite a few times. At the end, Jailbot let Jacknife go, and returned to Superjail with the Warden, content and happy.

Though Jailbot might not seem terribly clever, he really is quite smart, able to keep Superjail running practically by himself. While Jared takes care of the money and Alice oversees security, Jailbot is prison gaurd, maintenence, caretaker and police force. He even built most of Superjail itself, and is quite capable of running almost every aspect of it. Of course, he's still rather simplistic when it comes to certain things. Such as repairing Ultraprison's downed ship. Rather than do a scan of the ship or even examine the board he was supposed to be working on, he just started whacking at it with a hammer, proving that Jailbot is once again singleminded with one policy: Violence fixes everything.

Despite it all, the violence, the single minded efforts to apprehend all suspects and drag them to Superjail, Jailbot is rather childlike emotionally. When he dreams (and robots do dream), he was a child in his world. He throws tantrums, smashing up the computer he was supposed to be fixing when Nova made fun of him for being obsolete. He takes simple pleasure in helping the Warden any way he can, and more than likely views himself as the good guy apprehending all the bad guys and taking them to prison.

Backstory: Jailbot was created by the Warden to help him run Superjail. He is a mishmosh of random parts jammed into a frame. Jailbot was originally dreamed up by the Warden when he was a little boy playing with blocks, the original flying man. Not much is really known other than that about Jailbots past. He helped build Superjail himself, the largest prison in dimension 56-12. He runs Superjail practically by himself, the Warden being next to useless in that catagory, and functions as the all around Jack of all Trades in Superjail.

It can be inferred that Jailbot, being brought up with the Warden as his father figure, naturally learned all of his violent mannerisms through him. He was created after all, to attend to the several thousand inmates in Superjail. His 'childhood' was probably frought with several unfortunate runins with inmates and criminals, learning from the earliest days of his creation that the only way to stem violence is to use violence. He learned the best way to get the fear and respect of others is to be at the top of the food chain, and furthermore, he learned to love it. The word 'learned' is used because while several aspects were inevitably programmed into him, he's still a thinking, adapting machine. He was brought into Superjail knowing how to fight, but it was Superjail that taught him that he had to.

While he loves the Warden and loves to terrorize the inmates, Jailbot is semi-friends with Alice, Superjail's sole prison guard. Really though, with Jailbot around, all they need is one official prison guard. They get along probably because Alice and Jailbot agree on so many things, like how to treat inmates mostly. He more than likely became fast almost-friends with her in her first few days at Superjail. As for Jared, the accountant, he's just another person to deal with in Superjail. Jailbot typically ignores him, or picks on him like everyone else does.

Moral Standing: Jailbot would probably claim to be a goodguy but at best he's neutral, doing what the Warden tells him to do. At worst, he's probably evil, considering how he treats the inmates at Superjail.

Dreams: To make Superjail be the best jail in all the dimensions, and to make the Warden be super happy and comfortable where ever he is.

Fears: He's afraid of losing the Warden and losing Superjail, desperately needing both to be happy in life. When separated from the Warden in Time Police, he was more or less helpless, strapped into a display as a sideshow attraction.

Extra: Jailbot is outfitted with a multitude of weapons, from chainsaws to hammers, to guns and RPGs, grenades, axes, swords, flails, tasers. You name it, he has it.

He can also shapeshift into several different forms. He was Lord Stingray's busted ship, a woman in a stranded car, a porn machine, a slot machine, hiding in a stalk of corn. Whatever he needs to be to get the job done.

Jailbot doesn't need to eat but he does need to recharge. He was seen both at a table hooked up to a car battery and in a dock like an ipod resting at night.

Incapable of real speech, Jailbot communicates through his screen with expressions and with pictures. He can occasionally make 8-bit sounds, and noises as a human, but words are beyond him.

Character Location: None

Samples:

Writing Sample: http://the-teethbox.dreamwidth.org/4423.html?view=123975&posted=1#cmt123975
hailthenarc: (Default)
Synthesis of Alum: KAl(SO4)2.12H2O=A0=A0=A0=A0=A0=A0=A0=A0=A0=A0=A0=A0=A0=
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=A0=A0=A0=A0=A0=A0=A0=A0=A0 Chem=0A111=0APurpose:To use aluminum to create =
alum, which=0Ais hydrated potassium aluminum sulfate, KAl(SO4)2.12H2O=0APro=
cedure:Obtained 1 G of aluminum foil=0AWeighed exact=0Amass, then cut the f=
oil into small strips=0AUsing a graduated=0Acylinder, added 50mL of 1.4M KO=
H=0APlaced beaker=0Acontaining aluminum foil and KOH over Bunsen burner, he=
ated over a low flame.=0AAfter aluminum=0Adissolved, filtered it through gr=
avity filtration into a 125mL Erlenmeyer=0Aflask.=0AAllowed the flask=0Ato =
cool, then added 20mL of 9M H2SO4. Swirled the flask,=0Athen heated over lo=
w heat in order to dissolve remaining white flakes.=0APrepared an ice=0Abat=
h, then after allowing the flask to cool again, set it in ice bath for five=
=0Aminutes.=0AChecked after=0Afive minutes, no crystals had formed. So we s=
cratched the inside of the flask=0Ato allow crystals a place to form, and s=
et it back for another five minutes.=0ACrystals began to=0Aform, allowed to=
sit for another ten minutes.=0AWhile system was=0Acooling, poured 50mL of =
50% alcohol.water mixture into a test tube and allowed=0Ait to cool in ice =
bath.=0ASet up a vacuum=0Afiltration apparatus, wet the filter paper with w=
ater, and then swirled the=0Asolution to dislodge the crystals before filte=
ring through the vacuum.=0ASwirled and=0Apoured until all the solution was =
gone, added alcohol/water mix to flask,=0Aswirled and poured remaining crys=
tals into filter.=0AWhen finished=0Afiltering, put the crystals and filter =
paper into a beaker, labeled, and then=0Astored in a dry place.
--1969410512-1879900756-1339078202=:68225
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hailthenarc: (Default)
player information.

name: Squid
are you over 18?: I am 22!
personal dw: hailthenarc
email/msn/aim/plurk/etc: AIM: Squiddlypeon
characters in abax: N/A


in character information.

series: Transformers G1 cartoon
name: Skyfire
age: Well over ten million years old.
sex: Gender neutral/Assumed male
race: Cybertronian
weight: 3 tons (roughly 6000 pounds)
height: 8 feet
[OPTIONAL] cause of death:N/A
canon point:Episode: Fire in the Sky, after he falls back into the ice.
previous cr:N/A
history: Skyfire was a scientist on Cybertron, along with his friend and colleague, Starscream. This was before the war broke out between the two factions, and the only Cybertron that Skyfire remembers is a peaceful, quiet one. Never one for combat, Skyfire got his excitement and joy from his job, studying other planets and the intelligent life forms that lived upon them.

Along with Starscream, he went out on a mission, discovering the planet earth years before humans ever walked upon it. Though a scan of the planet revealed no intelligent life, Skyfire insisted they move in for a closer look, curious as to what secrets the planet held. Unfortunately, the two of them became caught up in a polar storm, and were separated in the arctic. Starscream, unwilling to leave without his partner, circled the globe looking for him, but was unable to find him until his second crash on the planet earth, millions of years later.

Skyfire spent untold eras buried beneath the ice of the arctic until the Decepticons found him, thawed him and recruited him to their side. Though uneasy about the situation, Starscream’s very presence there seemed to be enough to convince him to join forces against the Autobots, of whom he only assumed were evil due to the fact Starscream was fighting them.

His time on the Decepticon team was short lived, as Skyfire became increasingly upset by the Decepticon’s method of warfare and their treatment towards humans. The final straw was when Starscream attempted to have him murder a squad of captured Autobots. When Skyfire refused, Starscream shot him, gravely wounding him and leaving him for dead. It was only through the help of the Autobot medic, Rachet, that he barely managed to pull through, and turned the tide of battle in the arctic against the Decepticons.

He even went into battle against Starscream, though in the end he was unwilling to kill his old friend, instead knocking Starscream from the sky before using his blasters to cause an avalanche of snow around the Decepticon arctic base of operation. He saved the earth from an icy fate, but was entombed in ice once more himself, where he was to be trapped until months later, where the Autobots would locate him and thaw him out once more.

personality: Skyfire is possibly one of the friendliest, most helpful, most compassionate ‘bots you could ever meet. Though dedicated to science in almost every way, his pursuit of knowledge is meant to help, never to harm. As an Autobot, he believes in the freedom of all sentient beings, and would much sooner observe the inhabitants of earth peacefully and nicely than wage war or smash them. Though he is an absolutely MASSIVE guy, he’s gentle and careful, always willing to use his strength and size to help anyone in need.

He’s somewhat naïve, however, willing to assume the best of anyone. A hopeless optimist, really. While he is also always willing to help, Skyfire is… not… much of a fighter. At all. That is not to say that he cannot fight at all, and can be quite capable when properly provoked, but he tends to dislike harming others. Both battles with the Decepticons saw him laid out flat by Starscream, and in each fight his aim was to disarm and end the fight with as little damage as possible, either by destroying cover, knocking ‘Cons out of the sky with a body slam, or destroying weapons before they could be used. While he enjoys assisting his fellow Autobots in their battles, he’d be much more at home simply studying the local flora, fauna and intelligent life. He is unwilling to take anyone’s life, really, be it ‘Con, Autobot or human alike. Skyfire is terribly curious, and can and will drop everything in order to further his knowledge, literally walking out of a fire fight once to inspect and assist two imperiled humans. It’s probably safe to say his curiosity hasn’t been dampened one bit, ever eager to learn more about his surroundings.

Skyfire, being a scientist, is quite intelligent, and will not hesitate to launch into explanations or lectures that would rival any tongue twister with its complexity. He doesn’t seem to always remember that not everyone knows exactly what he’s talking about when it comes to science, and will happy science-babble at anyone who will sit still long enough to listen. He honestly doesn’t mean to sound like an egghead, he really can’t seem to help himself. He gets excited at the prospect of learning more as well, along with his curiosity, and does not hesitate to ask questions. Even if they might seem a little… strange.

As well, he likes to keep in top shape, modification wise. Before he crashed, he had kitted himself out with top of the line modifications to his body, in order to travel for long spans of time in the emptiness of space. He loves being cutting edge and fully updated, and in turn appreciates such technological advances on others. He’s pretty hands on, and usually won’t hesitate to inspect things he finds interesting a little more… closely. He doesn’t seem to fully realize that he is at all intimidating with his build, and he interacts easily and casually despite differences between himself and others.

It is also pretty easy to see he’s… perhaps a little absent minded at times. His compassion for others along with his natural curiosity often clouds his judgment, and usually ends in him taking a laser to the chest plate.

Finally, there is Starscream. While he eventually proved willing to knock his former friend and colleague from the air in the show, he has never once opened fire on Starscream, and is unwilling to fight much with his old friend. Something of a push over with everyone, being far too polite and easy going to fight much, he beds pretty easily under Starscream’s more demanding and bolder personality. It is easy to see he still has tender feelings for Starscream, unwilling as he was to use lethal force on him despite being fired upon himself.
abilities/powers:Flight: With his engine mods, Skyfire is easily one of the fastest fliers around.

transformation into a shuttle craft: While at home he could carry people inside of him, in Abax he’ll be far too small for this task. However, he is much faster in shuttle mode than he is without transforming.

subspace storage (used to house his gun): He can hold a few things in his subspace if he has to, but it’s usually used to house his double barreled plasma blaster.

proportionate strength: In the show, he was capable of lifting Megatron over his head and hurling him into a snow bank. It’s only to be expected that he’d retain proportionate strength here.

Armor: Skyfire’s armor does not rust like earth metal does, and he is capable of taking hits from human weapons like guns without getting too badly damaged. However, he is weak to weapons from his own planet and is usually laid out easily by well-aimed plasma blasts.

Scanners: He has internal scanners that can give him information on the world around him, and on his own internal systems.

Scientific Knowledge: While he doesn’t have a doctors understanding of the Cybertronian body, it’s still pretty in depth, knowing how to add mods to his own body. It’s reasonable to think that he’d be clever enough to do a bit of field work and first aid on other Cybertronians.
first person sample:
Really, this city is actually quite amazing, if you think about it. When will we ever have a chance to meet others from alternate universes, different realities altogether? I had originally imagined that the theory was near impossible to prove or disprove, that it would have been impossible to visit these different universes or even gather evidence of their existence, but here we are now. It really is extremely incredible. If I can gather information of this world, of the other worlds, just imagine the impact it could have on the scientific community. The possibilities that it opens up. We are looking into an entirely new frontier, beyond space and time into something more. Not simply entirely new worlds, but entirely new universes!

True, there are… unfortunate implications upon arriving here… And I would most like to go home sometime soon, but this situation isn’t entirely negative. I would have never met such fascinating people at home, made such new and wonderful friends. I would vastly prefer a life having known the people I have met here than never having known them at all.
http://ink-city.dreamwidth.org/337241.html#comments
http://ink-city.dreamwidth.org/282643.html#comments
third person sample:He'd returned not too long after his reconciliation with Blurr, the smaller Autobot having to return to the hangar. Skyfire had wanted to go back to the Nemesis... for several reasons, really. Of course Starscream was the biggest one. He couldn't bring himself to leave where ever the jet was for too long, not when having him back, even if it wasn't the same one, was still a novelty.

On top of that, there was no better place to observe the underwater wildlife that still moved about at this time of year. Despite the frigid temperature, he had been treated to a few schools of fish crossing over the decks windows, and he'd become rather taken with them, logging when they passed over, what kind of fish they were, the patterns and manners in which they moved... It was relaxing, almost like a return to normal for him. To be honest, he'd somewhat grown to enjoy the city. It felt like... a second chance.

It did, of course, occur to him that despite the Nemesis being devoid currently of any other Decepticons, the other Autobots might not… entirely think it wise to remain on board, but with the small size of the rest of the buildings in town, he really had no other choice. Besides, it wasn’t really all that bad. He got to share it with Starscream, after all, and the mech had not actually made any attempt to harm him or force him to stay on board the ship. Really, the situation could have been a great deal worse, he thought he was pretty lucky right now.
He was focused now on a rather large fish, some impressively sized, sleepy looking specimen, a smaller, more brightly colored one darting about it, seeming to try and harry the much larger fish. He couldn’t help but smile, making a note on the data pad he held. Yes, he had to say he was genuinely happy here, despite it all. When else would he ever get another chance like this?
http://ink-logs.dreamwidth.org/53910.html#comments
http://ink-logs.dreamwidth.org/51503.html#comments
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