Fantasy Slinger Arcana

[Sullivanity]

If you want to make a character, simply copy and paste whats below and insert stuff when necessary.

[Tabs]
[Tab={insert slinger name here}]
[imageFloat=right]{insert image here, optional}[/imageFloat]
[divide=dotted-thick]Overall:[/divide]
Name: {insert name}
Gender: {insert what gender you prefer, make sure to specify if that differs from your biological sex}
Orientation: {insert whichever way you roll}
[divide=dotted-thick]Appearance:[/divide]
General: {insert brief visual description}
Eye color: {self explanatory}
Hair: {self explanatory}
Scars, Birthmarks, etc.: {self explanatory}
Anything else: {self explanatory}
[divide=dotted-thick]History:[/divide]
{insert a brief history of your character here, it should be about 2-3 paragraphs long}
[divide=dotted-thick]Personality:[/divide]
General:{insert brief description of you personality here, should only be a paragraph long}
Flaws:{insert why people may dislike you}
Strengths:{insert why people may like you}
[/Tab]

[Tab={insert Gun name here}]
[imageFloat=right]{insert image here, optional}[/imageFloat]
[divide=dotted-thick]Overall:[/divide]
Name: {self explanatory}
Personality: {all Guns manifest as a voice inside their owner's head}
[divide=dotted-thick]Appearance:[/divide]
{insert visual description, along with what kind of gun it is}
[divide=dotted-thick]Abilities:[/divide]
{insert a brief description of your Gun's abilities here, it should be about a paragraph long}
[/Tab]

[Tab=Writing Sample]
{insert a short telling of the time you received your Gun. Remember, the Dealer only appears in extremely dire situations.}
[/Tab]
[/Tabs]

 

[Trombone Geek]

If there's anything I missed, let me know.


Just a warning, I'm not all that good at describing guns..

• Alexis Crowsmith
• Death
• Writing Sample

• 
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Overall:
  
  Name: Alexis Crowsmith
  
  
  Gender: Female
  
  
  Orientation: Bisexual
  
  
  Appearance:
  
  General: Alexis is fairly pale despite the time she spends outside away from people. Her silver eyes are bright with more of an artificial glow than emotion, and usually appear to be piercing and cold. Her face is framed by long and occasionally wild red hair, which somewhat explains her complexion. She has a lithe build made for moving around in battle, and isn't exactly blessed with anything other than silky hair and a pretty face, which is usually found to be frowning in some way, shape, or form.
  
  
  Eye color: Silver, unlike in the picture
  
  
  Hair: Long, red, straight, and has a tendency to get in her face. Woo.
  
  
  Scars, Birthmarks, etc.: One scar from her left shoulder blade to the right side of her lower back, a mark of the tragedy she can't remember. It starts off clean and straight, but becomes quite jagged just past her middle back. A second one, small but easy to pick out, found near her right temple.
  
  
  Anything else: Nope.
  
  
  History:
  
  Alexis was born to a poor family who had wedged itself into the Civil War by shoving Alexis forwards to be trained as a soldier for the south, despite her gender. She was forced to cut her hair and, as she grew older, hide any hints of her female identity, going under the name of Alex. Her father helped to train her until he died in conflict, and by then she already knew what she needed to. While muscle hadn't piled on like most other soldiers, she was still obviously strong.
  
  
  Alexis's third battle happened to be in her hometown. She deserted battle, rushing to her house, which was burning. Enraged, she hunted for the killer, only to be ambushed by an uncle she didn't even know she had had. He brandished a wicked knife as several enemy soldiers held her down on the ground.
  
  
  "Revenge," had been all he had said, accompanying it with one of those cliche laughs you only hear in movies. And then, he pulled Alexis's mother out of a bush and began to slowly torture her. Alexis couldn't do anything, only sit and watch; if she tried to close her eyes, the men pinning her down would hit her head against a rock. By the time her mother finally died, Alexis had blood running down her face and was unconscious.
  
  
  Her uncle then moved on to Alexis, carving a pattern on his back that started at her shoulder blade, although he only got to the middle of her back before the Dealer appeared. He had gotten the men away from Alexis, although she would still have to kill them herself. The moment she touched the strange gun the Dealer had left her, she understood how to use it. That night, seven men were discovered dead near Alexis's small town, and Alexis herself had vanished.
  
  
  After this, it took her a long time to get used to the voice that had invaded her mind, and she had to relearn how to use the gunblade she had been given. She learned, though, and made a name for herself out of mercenary work only because of her gift and because she needed the money. Any beggars who came near her would be met with cold ignorance. Alexis, however, is left searching for revenge for something she doesn't even remember.
  
  
  Personality:
  
  General: Alexis has a hard time letting go of the past and comes off strongly as a loner. She dislikes crowds and being swarmed by people, mostly because she dislikes how things can change quickly in a group. Alexis treats everyone the same, even children--distant, unwilling to help. Unless it affects her, she won't care. She dislikes being compared to a statue due to her silence and neutrality, stating quietly that a statue is changed over time by the things around it which it cannot control. While she doesn't like leading groups, she dislikes not being in control of her own actions and will often go off on her own. Sometimes, however, her gun's personality shines though just slightly. This rare occurrence may cause her to crack a smile or be kind.
  
  
  Flaws: Resentful of people, seems cold, seems controlling (of herself)
  
  
  Strengths: Firm in her beliefs, neutral, rare examples of kindness (makes them seem larger than they are).
  
  
  
• 
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Overall:
  
  Nameeath
  
  
  Personality: Death's personality is quite different from its wielder. It encourages for Alexis to open up more and to change her ways. Very creative, Death tends to convince Alexis (occasionally) to take a new path or choose a unique tactic whether socially or in battle. It is strongly neutral, like Alexis, but in a different way, thinking that Alexis should be more kind towards everyone. The only reason it leans towards kindness in such a way is because it wants for Alexis to change; if Alexis was kind, then Death would be a cruel representation of the upright personality. Death has a tendency to suggest that if Alexis changes, she will be able to remember her past better. Perhaps this is a way to jump-start her into changing?
  
  
  Appearance:
  
  Death happens to be a gunblade, a physical reflection of its change. All I can really say here is to look at the picture; describing objects isn't my forte. It's mostly in gun form, and is holstered on Alexis's thigh. (It's in the style of Lightning's weapon from FFXIII) Transformation process: [media]
  
  
  
  [/media]
  Abilities:
  
  Death, obviously, has the ability to switch between gun and sword through a pretty innovative design with a lot of complex moving I can't describe. It is quite light and made for quick moving rather than standing unchanging, also matching Death's representation. It only has one ability: to mimic something Alexis has seen or experienced. Whether an ability, appearance, or otherwise, this draining ability can be quite useful. At the moment, Alexis can only use it about two times before collapsing and falling unconscious.
  
  
  
• 
  
  
  There was fire everywhere, twisting her hometown into an unrecognizable skeleton. Alexis rushed through the dry, dusty 'main street' of Calverton (literally just chose a random town), Virginia, ignoring the smoke around her as it forced its way into her lungs and caused her to choke. She stumbled into the forest, nearly tripping over a branch and racing the spreading fire as she searched for her mother.
  
  
  "Mother!" she called out desperately, but there was no vocal response. What answered her wouldn't be considered worse than a pleading cry to be saved, not at that moment. The weight of several well-muscled bodies pressed down on Alexis, shoving her into the dirt and keeping her there. A cruel chuckle and one single word-- "Revenge.." --as explanation didn't serve as enough for the anger and confusion bustling about in the female soldier's mind, but she wasn't offered anything else and knew demanding answers would get her nowhere. She laid there, humiliated at how easy it had been to pin her, watching this strange man walk forwards towards her until all Alexis could see was his boots.
  
  
  "Do you know who I am?" Alexis didn't dignify the man with a response. "I'm your uncle," he clarified simply, as if discussing the weather. He didn't say anything else after that, only reached past some thick bushes.. pulling out Alexis's mother by her hair.
  
  
  Alexis nearly cried out, but kept herself quiet, not willing to speak and give this cruel 'uncle' of hers an excuse to gloat or cause more pain. She could only watch as he pulled out a simple pocket knife, flipping it open and holding it to Alexis's mother's bared throat.
  
  
  "This would be so easy, wouldn't it?" Alexis couldn't respond if she wanted to; fear seemed to crush her vocal chords, and fill her lungs until the pain in her chest threatened death and she could hardly breathe.
  
  
  "Such a shame, though, because we're going to take things much slower. We have all night, after all.."
  
  
  ((Insert torture scene I'm not quite willing to write because yeah.))
  
  
  Blood was everywhere; on Alexis's uncle's hands, all over her mother's body, dripping down the young soldier's face because she had closed her eyes too many times. She could hardly see anything, and the last thing she heard was her uncle's screeched words of "Revenge!" before the release of unconsciousness eased the pain. Alexis wasn't sure of what had happened during that time, but she remembered biting, sharp pain piercing its way through her tired mind despite her current state. When she awoke, the men who had pinned her, along with her uncle, were all waking up from their own slumbers; all Alexis saw of her savior was part of a tattered gray cloak. A strange gun lay in front of her, and Alexis reached out strangely revitalized arms and hands to pick it up. Rising to her feet, Alexis realized that she had been too slow and her uncle had escaped. However, the other men were still there; in a burst of uncharacteristic cruelty, Alexis raised the new gun, feeling one voice in her head that was truly a representation of how humans saw death.
  
  
  Kill them.
  
  
  

[Tabs]
[Tab=Alexis Crowsmith]
[imageFloat=right] [img] [/imageFloat]
[divide=dotted-thick]Overall:[/divide]
Name: Alexis Crowsmith
Gender: Female
Orientation: Bisexual
[divide=dotted-thick]Appearance:[/divide]
General: Alexis is fairly pale despite the time she spends outside away from people.
Eye color: Silver, unlike in the picture
Hair: Long, red, straight, and has a tendency to get in her face. Woo.
Scars, Birthmarks, etc.: One single scar from her left shoulderblade to the right side of her lower back, a mark of the tragedy she can't remember.
Anything else: {self explanatory}
[divide=dotted-thick]History:[/divide]
{insert a brief history of your character here, it should be about 2-3 paragraphs long}
[divide=dotted-thick]Personality:[/divide]
General: Alexis has a hard time letting go of the past and comes off strongly as a loner. She dislikes crowds and being swarmed by people, mostly because she dislikes how things can change quickly in a group. Alexis treats everyone the same, even children--distant, unwilling to help. Unless it affects her, she won't care. She dislikes being compared to a statue due to her silence and neutrality, stating quietly that a statue is changed over time by the things around it which it cannot control. While she doesn't like leading groups, she dislikes not being in control of her own actions and will often go off on her own. Sometimes, however, her gun's personality shines though just slightly. This rare occurrence may cause her to crack a smile or be kind.
Flaws: Resentful of people, seems cold, seems controlling (of herself)
Strengths: Firm in her beliefs, neutral, rare examples of kindness (makes them seem larger than they are)
[/Tab]

[Tab=Death]
[imageFloat=right]{insert image here, optional}[/imageFloat]
[divide=dotted-thick]Overall:[/divide]
Name:Death
Personality: Death's personality is quite different from its wielder. It encourages for Alexis to open up more and to change her ways. Very creative, Death tends to convince Alexis (occasionally) to take a new path or choose a unique tactic whether socially or in battle. It is strongly neutral, like Alexis, but in a different way, thinking that Alexis should be more kind towards everyone. The only reason it leans towards kindness in such a way is because it wants for Alexis to change; if Alexis was kind, then Death would be a cruel representation of the upright personality. Death has a tendency to suggest that if Alexis changes, she will be able to remember her past better. Perhaps this is a way to jump-start her into changing?
[divide=dotted-thick]Appearance:[/divide]
Death happens to be a gunblade, a physical reflection of its change. All I can really say here is to look at the picture; describing objects isn't my forte. It's mostly in gun form, and is holstered on Alexis's thigh. (It's in the style of Lightning's weapon from FFXIII) Transformation process: [media]http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9GbNRRgkrBY[/media]
[divide=dotted-thick]Abilities:[/divide]
Death, obviously, has the ability to switch between gun and sword through a pretty innovative design with a lot of complex moving I can't describe. It is quite light and made for quick moving rather than standing unchanging, also matching Death's representation. It only has one ability: to mimic something Alexis has seen or experienced. Whether an ability, appearance, or otherwise, this draining ability can be quite useful. At the moment, Alexis can only use it about two times before collapsing and falling unconscious.
[/Tab]

[Tab=Writing Sample]
There was fire everywhere, twisting her hometown into an unrecognizable skeleton. Alexis rushed through the dry, dusty 'main street' of Calverton (literally just chose a random town), Virginia, ignoring the smoke around her as it forced its way into her lungs and caused her to choke. She stumbled into the forest, nearly tripping over a branch and racing the spreading fire as she searched for her mother.
"Mother!" she called out desperately, but there was no vocal response. What answered her wouldn't be considered worse than a pleading cry to be saved, not at that moment. The weight of several well-muscled bodies pressed down on Alexis, shoving her into the dirt and keeping her there. A cruel chuckle and one single word-- "Revenge.." --as explanation didn't serve as enough for the anger and confusion bustling about in the female soldier's mind, but she wasn't offered anything else and knew demanding answers would get her nowhere. She laid there, humiliated at how easy it had been to pin her, watching this strange man walk forwards towards her until all Alexis could see was his boots.
"Do you know who I am?" Alexis didn't dignify the man with a response. "I'm your uncle," he clarified simply, as if discussing the weather. He didn't say anything else after that, only reached past some thick bushes.. pulling out Alexis's mother by her hair.
Alexis nearly cried out, but kept herself quiet, not willing to speak and give this cruel 'uncle' of hers an excuse to gloat or cause more pain. She could only watch as he pulled out a simple pocket knife, flipping it open and holding it to Alexis's mother's bared throat.
"This would be so easy, wouldn't it?" Alexis couldn't respond if she wanted to; fear seemed to crush her vocal chords, and fill her lungs until the pain in her chest threatened death and she could hardly breathe.
"Such a shame, though, because we're going to take things much slower. We have all night, after all.."
((Insert torture scene I'm not quite willing to write because yeah.))
Blood was everywhere; on Alexis's uncle's hands, all over her mother's body, dripping down the young soldier's face because she had closed her eyes too many times. She could hardly see anything, and the last thing she heard was her uncle's screeched words of "Revenge!" before the release of unconsciousness eased the pain. Alexis wasn't sure of what had happened during that time, but she remembered biting, sharp pain piercing its way through her tired mind despite her current state. When she awoke, the men who had pinned her, along with her uncle, were all waking up from their own slumbers; all Alexis saw of her savior was part of a tattered gray cloak. A strange gun lay in front of her, and Alexis reached out strangely revitalized arms and hands to pick it up. Rising to her feet, Alexis realized that she had been too slow and her uncle had escaped. However, the other men were still there; in a burst of uncharacteristic cruelty, Alexis raised the new gun, feeling one voice in her head that was truly a representation of how humans saw death.
Kill them.
[/Tab]
[/Tabs]

 

[Nerdork]

• Marianna Grayson
• Tower
• Writing Sample

• 
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Overall:
  
  Name: Marianna (Mara) Grayson
  
  
  Gender: Female
  
  
  Orientation: Pansexual
  
  
  Appearance:
  
  General: Mara looks like a fairytale princess. Her dark hair falls in ringlets down to her mid-back, though they are kept away from her face by a braid or a bun. Her tall, willowy frame gives the impression of a dainty ballerina. Her slender fingers look too dainty to pull a trigger. But they can.
  
  
  Any nice dresses she may have owned have been torn to shreds or thoroughly stained. She keeps some scraps to clean Tower, but she mostly wears men's trousers and blouses, maybe a shawl if she's feeling fancy. She likes to go barefoot unless she has to interact with other humans, like when she goes to town for supplies, when she deigns to put on worn leather boots.
  
  
  Eye color: Hazel
  
  
  Hair: Black
  
  
  Scars, Birthmarks, etc.: A few gun shot wounds, mostly long healed. They are hidden by her clothing. She has a ring of marks on her left palm and hand from a dog bite, and a small birthmark circular birthmark on the back of her neck, underneath her right ear.
  
  
  Anything else: Almost always wears a locket with a picture of her family inside.
  
  
  History:
  
  Mara was raised in the suburbs of Philadelphia for most of her early life, but after they lost all their money in the economical crash several years ago, they decided to move to Ohio and become farmers. They and several other families traveled together for safety, but were still attacked by bandits. All were killed except for Mara who was able to defeat the bandits with her new gun, Tower.
  
  
  They took Mara to her grandmother near Boston, an old, senile woman who left Mara do what she wanted, so long as it wasn't too loud. While Mara only knew her for a few years, she was still hurt when the old woman died a year ago, and sticks to herself on the large property on the fringes of town.
  
  
  Tower tries to encourage her to go out and seek her fortune, blow a couple things up, but she is afraid of more people who she cares about dying, and thus stays where she is.
  
  
  Personality:
  
  General: When you first meet Mara she'll try to keep her distance. She's kind enough, she'll give you whatever you need to leave and try to (politely) shove you out the door before she starts to get attached. If you decide to stick around, you'll see deeper into her psyche. She's an anxious person, always waiting for the other boot to drop and ruin everything she's built. She tries to avoid that, avoid the change and destruction, and thus tries to keep anyone who might bring change and destruction as far away as possible. Somewhere inside she knows she's only delaying the inevitable, only making it worse, but she hates to admit she's wrong, and can be quite stubborn. Because she struggles with her own faults, she is understanding of others', so long as they can be patient with hers. If they can't, they should look out for her sharp tongue.
  
  
  Flaws: Hates to be told she's wrong, Super stubborn, Anxious
  
  
  Strengths: Intuitive, Doesn't like to hurt others, Understanding
• 
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Overall:
  
  Name: The Tower
  
  
  Personality: Tower is a bringer of change, destruction. He always wants to move, explore, conquer (blow things up). He tries to push Mara to do new things, sometimes gently, sometimes rudely. Sometimes it can seem like he doesn't care for her, he calls her wimp and ignores her when she needs him to listen. But, contrastingly, he is very protective and will always be there when she needs him most, be that for a pep talk or to blow up a bandit.
  
  
  Appearance:
  
  If you had to classify Tower, it would be as a sawed-off shotgun. But with all the gizmos and gadgets attached, it seems more accurate to call him a behemoth. Even Mara isn't sure what they all do, because Tower likes to pop up new ones whenever the situation calls for it, often without giving Mara much of a warning. There's smoke grenades, poison darts, a flashlight, a flame thrower, extra huge bullets, a knife, and a cup holder. It's not clear where it all goes after the battle is won, but it is always accessible.
  
  
  Abilities:
  
  Tower can is always changing and adapting. New gizmos can sprout from the gun in seconds, molded out of other machinery, and disappear just as quickly, making way for new gadgets. Mara has figured out that he has a limit of about 16 additions, or, and this has only been needed once, he can strip down to the bare minimum and send it to build a wall around Mara, to protect her. More than 16, or taking considerable damage to the wall, will put him out of commission for a while until he can repair himself.
  
  
  
• 
  
  
  (I'm not sure when we are setting this, I assumed late 19th century)
  
  
  "Come on, Mara, its time to leave!" Her mother called up the stairs of the house.
  
  
  "Coming!" Mara called back. "I'm just saying goodbye." She made her way in the direction of her mother, running her hand along the wall. This was where she had been born and spent the ensuing 14 years. It was not something she could easily let go of. But now her family was heading West, while Pennsylvania was still allied with Ohio.
  
  
  The wagon ride was supposed to take a week, but the river was swollen with spring melt and so they'd had to take a detour south, crossing into West Virginia. Dangerous territory, but they would only be there a day, her father assured her and the rest of the wagon train, four other families.
  
  
  They set up camp by a creek, all on edge. Most found it hard to fall asleep, but the quiet songs that the mothers sung eventually lulled Mara into the land of dreams.
  
  
  A soft thump awoke her later that night. All were asleep in their wagons except for the men on watch, her father included. She picked her way out of the wagon to see if he had heard it too. It was probably just a fat owl but it is always best to have someone else assuage your fears. The fire had burned down low, so she slowly picked her way across the camp to where she knew he would be, the south end, with the best stars. He always told her, if he could make money off of stargazing, he would. But he had to feed a family some how, so he took up farming. Still he tried his best to instill in her the names of every constellation and their positions.
  
  
  "How are the Sisters?" She asked the form in front of her.
  
  
  "How would I know?" Came a gravelly voice, not the voice of her father.
  
  
  "What? Who are you? Where is my dad?" She asked, backing up. She heard a scream and another thump from a nearby wagon.
  
  
  "Not that way, Mara, they'll catch you that way." The man told her, pausing her steps. Another scream. Another thump. A wail from a baby, quickly silenced. Bandits.
  
  
  She gulped, and turned to the mysterious man with pleading eyes. "Please, help me."
  
  
  "I'm afraid, Mara, that you are going to have to help yourself." He answered, and held something out to her.
  
  
  Her fingers closed around it, and she held it up. It was a gun.
  
  
  "How much experience do you have with a gun?" The man asked. There were blood splattered the inside of the wagon next to her.
  
  
  "Very little." She replied.
  
  
  "I hope you're a quick learner." He answered, and turned to leave.
  
  
  "Thank you..." She said, but did not know his name.
  
  
  "Call me the Dealer. Now go, Mara!" He answered, going around the corner of a wagon, and, when Mara ran to follow him, he was gone. But nearby, splayed out on the ground with a pool of blood spreading around him, was the lifeless form of her father.
  
  
  She bit back a wail, and collapsed next to him.
  
  
  C'mon, Mara, not right now. Came a little voice.
  
  
  "Who was that?" She demanded.
  
  
  "Hey, I heard a voice!" Came a shout.
  
  
  Dolt, look at the trouble we're in now.
  
  
  Mara looked around for the voice, but all she found was a looming man who chuckled at the sight of her.
  
  
  "Is that Daddy's gun? I didn't see that one on him earlier." He turned his head the tiniest fraction to call to a nearby comrade. "Hey Bill-"
  
  
  That was his mistake.
  
  
  Raise the gun. She adjusted her grip on the gun, pointer finger on the trigger.
  
  
  Aim. She could imagine a bullseye right above his eyebrow.
  
  
  Fire.
  
  
  

 

[Mayhem]

I hope it's okay!

• {Anathema Blake}
• {The Devil}
• Writing Sample

• 
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Overall:
  
  Name: Anathema Blake
  
  
  Gender: Female
  
  
  Orientation: Bisexual
  
  
  Appearance:
  
  General: Always a nonchalant person, Anathema usually deals with her appearance the same way she deals with other things...by being practical (and a bit reckless). So she keeps her bushy hair under control via grabbing the nearest sharpest object and chopping it off till she's happy with the length. Her skin is another matter altogether since she spends half of her time under the sun, and the other half she spends it causing trouble or getting in trouble...which in one hand results in the appearance of a lot of freckles that might be called charming, but also results in a lot of bruises/cuts/burns. Her green eyes are kinda nice though.
  
  
  Scars, Birthmarks, etc.: Has several small scars all over her body. However the most noteworthy ones are a big scar she got in her back after a fire, and 2 bullet wounds (one in the lower part of her abdomen and the other one in her back).
  
  
  History:
  
  Not much is know from the past or origin of Anathema Blake, only that her parents didn't like her very much...they did after all leave her at the orphanage when she was a baby, and named her "Anathema". However this never seemed to discourage young Anathema as she quickly proved to be worthy of her name: ran away from the orphanage at 12, got in trouble with the law at 17, and started on the road to becoming a wanted criminal at 22.
  
  
  Always ambitious and materially driven, Anathema quickly realised the world didn't care much about a orphan woman with nothing on her name...so she decided she had to take care of herself, even if that meant breaking a few laws and stealing a bit. It started small, a few dollars stolen here, a few lies told over there, after all no one ever suspected the orphan girl. But then she started getting greedy...and she learned how to use a gun. No longer afraid of the repercussions, the scams got bigger, her aim got better, and the "petty thefts" slowly transformed into heists...and Anathema caught the eye of the wrong people. Her cravings for wealth and comfort never got sated….she died running from the law in a dirty alley with a bullet in her back...or so she thought.
  
  
  She woke up in a dirty cell were they had dumped her body, sore from a beating, her back soaked in blood and her heart filled with rage...but then the Dealer appeared.
  
  
  That night Anathema Blake escaped from prison...and the authorities were never able to explain how she had managed to get hold of a gun.
  
  
  Personality:
  
  General: Anathema, even when she often acts carefree and nonchalant, is actually quite devious and underhanded. She’s often fickle and capricious in her goals and wishes but that doesn’t stop her from doing ANYTHING it takes to get what she wants...this has proven to be her greatest downfall since she never seems to able to put her ambition aside. One of the bigger flaws in her personality is her tendency to lack tact or manners, and when she feels she is loosing control of a situation she quickly resorts to snark and mockery. She has the ability to be very charming when she wants to, which has actually gotten her out of trouble a lot of times.
  
  
  Her time in the criminal world has taught her to be wary of others so she has build an untroubled persona around herself, but certain quirks, eccentricities and manners in her character sometimes show the troubled and resentful girl she's struggling to hide.
  
  
  Flaws: Resentful, reckless, materialistic and never knows when to quit.
  
  
  Strengths: Cunning, ambitious, playful, but sometimes quite empathic and loyal with others if they get on her good side. Never the richest person Anathema has learned to be "resourceful" with her bullets, so what she lacks in speed she makes up in deadly accuracy.
  
  
  
• 
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Overall:
  
  Name: Diablo
  
  
  Personality: Diablo is what Anathema calls "the little voice" that's constantly screwing with her...he prefers to call himself her "voice of reason". Because even when they both get along surprisingly well, there's just a small thing in which both of them are constantly in disagreement...and that's Anathema's freedom and how she's is to get it. In a way he seems to clearly see what she can't thanks to her hot-headness. Sadly they never seem to reach an agreement, so Diablo keeps himself busy just keeping her alive. He's always cool and collected, always analytical and planning for the future. Often with a dry sense of humour, and sometimes (when Anathema gets on his nerves) quite cynic and cold.
  
  
  Appearance:
  
  Black engraved folding trigger pinfire revolver with gold and silver decorations.
  
  
  Abilities:
  
  They both call it the "Devil's Pact". Anathema shoots the gun, makes a deal with the victim and the victim has a simple choice: follow through with the deal and live, or break the deal and die.
  
  
  
• 
  
  
  She wanted to make them suffer, she wanted to curse them, she wanted to scream till her throat was raw and burning….but instead all that came out was a ragged sob, and Anathema Blake had to swallow her anger along with the blood pooling in her mouth.
  
  
  She could feel the pain all over her body…the soreness in her ribs were they had kicked her, the swelling in her lip were they had punched her and the sticky hot blood running down the back of her dress where they had shot her. “Cowards” she wanted to spit, eager to make them pay. Sadly, words were always easier said than done, and the truth was that she was lying half dead in the prison floor, too broken to move and too angry to think clearly.
  
  
  Gingerly raising her hand to her bloody lips, Anathema closed her eyes and replayed for the 10th time the scene of her death…or what at the time SEEMED like the scene of her death. The sound of her frantic steps echoing in the empty alley, the coarse texture of the bag where she had placed all the money, the shouts from the policemen…and then the familiar sound of a gun being shot. For a second it was almost as if someone had just knocked her forward, but then the pain spread through her body and her whole body sang in pain. She fell. Then they had called her names, they had ripped her dress in their efforts to find all she had stolen, and then they had dumped in her some dirty cell…like she was nothing, like she was worthless.
  
  
  “…let me prove them wrong” She whispered bitterly, in what appeared to be the closest thing to a prayer to no one in particular “…whatever the cost, whatever the price”. She clenched her fist till her nails were digging in her flesh, and then struck the dirty floor making her whole arm numb with pain…but then she saw him.
  
  
  He was standing in the corner of the cell looking down at her…the Dealer. She eyed him carefully, but her lips curved into a small smirk when she saw the gun he was holding.
  
  
  "...so, what's the catch?"
  
  
  
  
  
  

 

[Frogtruck]

• John Henry
• Moon
• Writing Sample

• 
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Overall:
  
  Name: John Henry
  
  
  Gender: Male
  
  
  Orientation: Heterosexual
  
  
  Appearance:
  
  General:Average height man, 24 years of age. He's grown gray hairs despite his age and looks as if he is always staring out into the distance. Likes to wear clothes on the gray scale, rarely anything with colors on it.
  
  
  Eye color: Gray
  
  
  Hair: Gray
  
  
  Scars, Birthmarks, etc.: None
  
  
  Anything else:
  
  
  History:
  
  John was always picked on as he was growing up, since he was never quite as tall as the other boys in his town and they made fun of him for it. He often found himself running because it seemed there was always someone to chase after him. He did not grow up with very many friends and was always afraid of those older than him. His father had gone to fight in the Civil War, and his mother had not taken the absence of her husband very well. It was not uncommon to find her at the local bar, flirting with the patrons. John rarely saw his mother at home and had taken to feeding himself at a young age. He was practically caring all for himself by the age of 14. His mother had collected cash by selling herself away at the tavern, and John would come home to find a small lump of money sitting on the table every few days. He used this to buy groceries and other necessities every week and hoped his mother was alright, but never made much of an effort to check up on her.
  
  
  She eventually died, and the saddened, 19 year old John realized he now needed to find a way to earn money. He surprisingly managed to convince the elderly leather craftsman to take him as an apprentice and John learned leather-working from the man for the next 5 years. John kept to himself a lot, and rarely every talked to women, as they made him exceptionally shy and scared, but it was other men he feared most. Even at this age he was being verbally harassed by them, calling him yellow and other demeaning terms.
  
  
  One night, John was walking back home, he spotted a white wolf in the distance staring at him. He gazed back at the she-wolf in awe, soaking in her beauty when he was suddenly attacked by 3 very drunk men. One of them happened to be the sheriff's son, and accompanying him were his two friends. John had grown up with these 3 guys and they were very frequent bullies of his throughout his childhood. It looked as if they had the intent to kill John, but from behind a shadow, the Dealer tossed him Moon, and he killed the 3 men, forcing him to flee town as he had just committed homicide, and against the sheriff's son, no less.
  
  
  Personality:
  
  General: Very shy, he often struggles when talking to people because he never knows the right words to use. It is hard for him to make eye contact with people because he is afraid to see how they view him.
  
  
  Flaws:Shy, Overly suspicious, Weak-willed, defensive.
  
  
  Strengths:Kind, Non-threatening, Calm
• 
  
  
  
  
  <p><a href="<fileStore.core_Attachment>/monthly_2016_01/upload_2016-1-12_0-43-16.jpeg.4238c2fed710c530e62d2f492ab426ae.jpeg" class="ipsAttachLink ipsAttachLink_image"><img data-fileid="98296" src="<fileStore.core_Attachment>/monthly_2016_01/upload_2016-1-12_0-43-16.jpeg.4238c2fed710c530e62d2f492ab426ae.jpeg" class="ipsImage ipsImage_thumbnailed" alt=""></a></p>
  
  Overall:
  
  Name: Moon
  
  
  Personality: Moon is John's protector and care-taker. She is the female figure John lacked in his life and she guides him through all of his troubles. John would easily consider Moon to be his best friend. She is soft spoken and very cunning with her words, always knowing exactly what to say which is very polar to John's rhetoric style. She advises John in decision making, ensuring that John is safe at all times. When John is alone, Moon uses her ability to produce a silver wolf that accompanies John and she will speak through the wolf.
  
  
  Appearance:
  
  A very elegant, double barreled shotgun, with one of the barrels made of a steel that is a darker shade than the other, representing how the moon has a dark and light side. There is also a large silver crescent that is on both sides of the gun's rear. The wood is also stained to look dark gray.
  
  
  Abilities:
  
  The Moon Card is about illusion, confusion, and uncertainty. This power manifests into mirages that the gun can produce. John can create multiple mirages at once and these cannot speak, and are intangible. John can make a mirage of any living creature he has seen in his life, including himself. However John has only ever seen a reflection of himself, so all mirages of John are essentially flipped. Often John will make multiple copies of himself when in battle, so as to intimidate his opponents and confusing them as to which is the real one. They can also shoot mirage bullets, but again they are only images.
  
  
  
• 
  
  
  The night was young and John had just finished wishing the old leather worker goodnight. He headed out of the workshop and strolled down to his home at a very brisk pace, as he was accustomed to doing. His neck hairs stood on end as the feeling someone was watching him slowly drifted through his mind. He stopped suddenly and looked out towards the edge of the woods. There it was. The White Wolf. This must've been what was giving him this odd sensation. She didn't frighten John, like most things do. She was one of the most elegant creatures he had ever seen. John could've stood there for hours staring at the beast, if it weren't for what happened next.
  
  
  "HEY, HENRY!",Blurted out James, the son of the local sheriff. John's body froze in fear as his head quickly pivoted towards the source of the shout. He couldn't speak, he was to afraid to say anything to James or his two cronies behind him.
  
  
  
  
  
  "Whassa matter?! Cat Got your tongue?!" James began to cackle at the night sky and his two friends followed suit.
  
  
  "N-n-n-no-no!" was all he could stammer out as quaked with fear. He could tell the boys had been drinking a lot tonight, their breaths reeked of alcohol, even all the way over here.
  
  
  
  
  
  "Ya'know what John? I think I'm tired of seein' your stuuuupid face 'round this town! Hey boys, whaddya say we give ol' Johnny boy, a new face?" After James finished, he pulled out a knife from his jacket, and his friends chuckled and pulled out some metal of their own.
  
  
  
  
  
  "Oh no, this is it, this where they kill me. I'm going to die tonight" James thought to himself.
  
  
  It was at that moment when a voice came from the shadows behind him. "Hey kid, psst! Catch this!". John turned to see a silhouette toss a long object towards him. He instinctively caught it and made the object out to be a shotgun of sorts. It was not a model he recognized, however, this shotgun had the barrels resting one on top of the other, and the whole gun was different shade of gray, even the wood. He noticed that there silvery, crescent moons adorning the stock of it, as well as the sights. He looked back at the shadows for the figure, but he vanished.
  
  
  John suddenly remembered the 3 men, and turned his head to see that the began to charge at him. It seemed that they had not noticed John's new acquisition, as the hurtled towards their prey.
  
  
  
  
  
  "Kill them..." A soft, elegant voice echoed through his skull. The voice startled John, and yet, it comforted him at the same time. As if it were a voice of reason, John aimed the crescent sights at James, and pulled the trigger.
  
  
  With an unusually soft bang, James dropped like a sack of potatoes, and his friends stumbled as they suddenly stopped in their tracks, looking down at their now dead friend.
  
  
  
  
  
  "Now, while they are lined up..." Came the same female voice. And John took his aim, and fired, getting them both with a single burst.
  
  
  
  
  
  "We need to leave John. You can't stay here anymore..." As the realization of what had just happened settled in, John turned and ran away, as far as his legs would take him. As he ran he noticed he wasn't alone anymore. The snow white she-wolf was right beside him, and together they escaped.
  
  
  

 

[DjangoRechained]

• Preston Perez
• Magician
• Writing Sample

• 
  
  
  {
  
  }
  
  Overall:
  
  Name: Preston Perez
  
  
  Gender: Male
  
  
  Orientation: Heterosexual
  
  
  Appearance:
  
  General: Preston sports a skin shade that suggest he spends most of his days outside in the sun and the muscular frame that would make one think the majority of the reason he's outside so much is for land work. Brown lively and bright eyes dart around in his face, sharp yet oddly unfocused all at once. His short black hair often looks oddly shaped; he spends no time grooming it after getting out of bed and cuts it himself with a blade when it begins to get too unruly. A few days worth of growth on his face is the common way to find his powerful angular jaw.
  
  
  Eye color: Brown
  
  
  Hair: Black
  
  
  Scars, Birthmarks, etc.: A short line that cuts in between his right eyebrow in which both halves fail to connect. A brand lying on his right shoulder blade in the shape of a star.
  
  
  History:
  
  The life of the slave was what Preston had believed would be all that could describe his life after he passed. America faced internal conflict during the rising aggression between the Union and confederacy. At that time Preston was under the ownership of Calvin Candy in Florida. His ethnicity brought him the obvious disadvantages, abuse and disdain. Such was true of all the property of Calvin Candy. Preston against every chance had swayed the affection of Mr. Candy's daughter, Carol Candy.
  
  
  At least he thought he did. She would find any excuse to get Preston to make love to her. Preston had just been so elated to feel compassion from someone innately considered above him he didn't understand he was being used. Just as he always had, instead of threats he received sweet nothings from a woman that still saw him as nothing more than a possession. Calvin Candy learned of their affair and Carol threw all the blame on Preston, accusing him of forcing himself on to her.
  
  
  Were it not for the Union Soldiers that had intervened the night Calvin planned to shoot Preston he would have died. The soldiers, Edward Thawne and Howard Cojack, fed and clothed Preston until he was healthy enough to make his way to sanctuary in the north. Preston decided to stay with them enjoying their companionship. At the time Preston did not understand why Edward and Howard claimed to be soldiers yet he could never recall them fighting a war. He learned of soldiers for hire; The Step Sons. Within a few years Preston had joined their ranks as their fastest gun.
  
  
  Edward and Howard reached their ripe old age while Preston had only begun to reach maturity. With a heavy heart, the clothes on his back, his piece, and a goal; Preston departed from his old friends to strike up his own business and his own name. Preston Perez aims to be the lightning trigger.
  
  
  Personality:
  
  General:To be revealed in Roleplay.
  
  
  Flaws:Startling Enthusiasm, Illiterate, Ethnicity (If we're being real), Too Good Natured for his own good
  
  
  Strengths:Startling Enthusiasm, Immense Physical Strength and Conditioning, Good Natured
  
  
  
• 
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Overall:
  
  Name: Houdini
  
  
  Personality: Incredibly knowledgeable in contrast to his wielder who has never had a day of schooling in his life. This often causes a bit of friction between the two as Preston is never exactly on Houdini's level of intellect. Houdini however delights in the ability to teach Preston and nurture him into the man he wishes to become acting as a sort of mental compass.
  
  
  Appearance:
  
  .44 Cal snub nose revolver. Houdini takes such a compact form to make him easier to conceal while also much quicker to draw. Despite the short length of the barrel Houdini has a deceptively long range.
  
  
  Abilities:
  
  Aside from the typical ability of any firearm Houdini is able to summon any item that has been struck by it's bullet to either Preston's hand or turn a bullet that has been fired into the object being summoned.
  
  
  
• 
  
  
  Arid desert heat floated through Preston's boots as smoothly as the grainy sand that cracked against the wooden saloon floors as he walked out of the flapping double doors. His throat was dry from the night he spent with no hydration passed out on the saloon floor. His back itched as his brand rubbed against the thick leather vest the prospector could afford him.
  
  
  "Good luck son." The old man that had mostly stared out into the distance since he had arrived at the small town said. What made him finally speak up from his thousand yard stare? He hadn't spoken a word to him since he arrived three days ago but now as it approached high noon and the towns folk fled into their homes to protect themselves from stray bullets is that he spoke. He wished Preston good luck but in the tone that an undertaker would tell someone to take care. Grim and final.
  
  
  Preston held the grip of his piece firmly in his hand. His knuckles whitened from the tension. "Not to worry old man, I got some tricks up my sleeve."
  
  
  "One of them better be coming back from the grave, boy." Preston heard the voice of the outlaw from thirty feet away. Already in position with his gun sheathed and hand cocked.
  
  
  "Don't reckon I'll need to." Preston began to scale down the steps when a man placed his hand on his chest to halt him.
  
  
  "Hold on son, think you'll need better iron than that." For the life of him Preston couldn't remember anything about the man who had given him his weapon. The outlaw protested that Preston was being a given a new gun when he was moments away from death. The man simply responded "If you win, it's yours." To that the outlaw, Texas Red, had no qualms.
  
  
  Preston took the new firearm with no second guesses and the quickness of his draw is still talked about in that town today.
  
  
  

 

[Cloud Nagasake]

​

• Reno Markov
• The Lovers
• Writing Sample

• <p><a href="<fileStore.core_Attachment>/monthly_2016_01/694px-MaleSpitfirePortrait.png.928f7f5c7de5c41c88d568d6c37c06bf.png" class="ipsAttachLink ipsAttachLink_image"><img data-fileid="98119" src="<fileStore.core_Attachment>/monthly_2016_01/694px-MaleSpitfirePortrait.png.928f7f5c7de5c41c88d568d6c37c06bf.png" class="ipsImage ipsImage_thumbnailed" alt=""></a></p>
  
  Overall:
  
  
  Name:
  
  
  Reno Markov
  
  
  Gender:
  
  
  Male
  
  
  Orientation:
  
  
  Heterosexual
  
  
  Appearance:
  
  
  General: {insert brief visual description}
  
  
  Eye color:
  
  
  Green
  
  
  Hair:
  
  
  
  Spiky wild white hair and a few pieces of his hair slid through his headband.
  
  
  Scars, Birthmarks, etc.:
  ​
  
  
  
  A cut going across his forehead completely which is covered up by his headband and a few strands of hair.
  
  
  Anything else:
  
  
  Might add later...
  
  
  History: {insert a brief history of your character here, it should be about 2-3 paragraphs long}
  
  
  Personality:
  
  
  General: {insert brief description of you personality here, should only be a paragraph long}
  
  
  Flaws:
  
  
  
  -Harsh and occasional destructive nature
  
  
  -Can't be trusted with a secret.
  
  
  -Can be demanding
  ​
  
  
  
  Strengths:
  
  
  
  +Deep down they is compassion and kindness that occasionally breaks free.
  
  
  +Good street smarts
  
  
  +Expert gunslinger
  ​
  
  
  
  
• <p><a href="<fileStore.core_Attachment>/monthly_2016_01/DMC5-Devil-May-Cry-5-Dante-s-2-Double-Guns-Resin-Ebony-Lvory-Cosplay-Props-NEW.jpg.7fc3836e4d9d0126dd1a293bb8a33f94.jpg" class="ipsAttachLink ipsAttachLink_image"><img data-fileid="98301" src="<fileStore.core_Attachment>/monthly_2016_01/DMC5-Devil-May-Cry-5-Dante-s-2-Double-Guns-Resin-Ebony-Lvory-Cosplay-Props-NEW.jpg.7fc3836e4d9d0126dd1a293bb8a33f94.jpg" class="ipsImage ipsImage_thumbnailed" alt=""></a></p>
  
  
  Overall:
  
  
  Name:
  
  
  
  The Lovers
  
  Personality:
  
  The Lovers are truly a perfect match for each other and wouldn't show any other affection towards any one else and occasionally they tend to tune out their wielder Reno. Its not that they do not like him its just the strong connection they have with each other. Believe it or not The Lovers' connection with Reno is just as strong as theirs and whenever Reno need advice when it comes to getting the love he wants he'll always have to voices to comfort and educate him.
  ​
  
  
  
  Appearance:
  
  
  Lovers are are a pair of dual Beretta with a very common barrel and handle design, It best symbolized how much they have in common. The Female voice being the white pistol and the Male voice being the black pistol.
  
  
  Abilities:
  
  
  Abilities:
  
  
  The Lovers are best described as the Dynamic Duo when in combat and are well know because of their ability to create different bullets based on their wielder's spiritual essence. For Reno's essence The Lovers' bullets would be able to explode upon having contact with any object or person.
  
  
  
• {insert a short telling of the time you received your Gun. Remember, the Dealer only appears in extremely dire situations.}

​

 

[Remmock]

• Bartholomew Rogers
• The Fool
• Writing Sample

• 
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Overall:
  
  Name: Bartholomew Rogers
  
  
  Gender: Male
  
  
  Orientation: Heterosexual
  
  
  Appearance:
  
  General: As shown, Bartholomew dresses like a gentleman should, including black gloves and black boots with silver spurs and a black leather belt with silver buckle.
  
  
  Eye color: Blue
  
  
  Hair: Black
  
  
  Scars, Birthmarks, etc.: Multiple healed gunshot wounds, including one just above and slight to the right of his heart.
  
  
  Anything else: One Colt .45 on his hip and one solid gold Derringer up his sleeve.
  
  
  History:
  
  A natural born gambler, Bartholomew "Bart" Rogers went from town to town and table to table, gambling his way to a small fortune. His entire life ran on a mixture of luck and skill, even going so far as to smooth talk his way into saloons before he was of age to be able to get in on the games. All of this was due to larger than life dreams Bart couldn't contain as an orphan out west, causing him to flee the orphanage as soon as he looked old enough to pass for an adult fresh out of boyhood.
  
  
  The desire to accumulate wealth so as to never have to worry about living poor again drove him to a town with a wealthy mine owner named Arthur Matthews, talking his way to the table and eventually playing the mine owner out of a sizable sum. Unbeknownst to Bart, Mr. Matthews was the owner of his own mine and company through underhanded dealings and backstabbings, with this loss being taken as a personal mark on his pride. Later that night, Bart found himself attacked by several men who shot him up, took everything, and left him for dead.
  
  
  The Dealer found him then, dying and alone. What happened next, he doesn't really recall. Suffice it to say, he woke up at a Doctor's clinic with a strong pain across his torso and a $100 note still pinned to his inside jacket shoulder. He thanked the Doctor only to learn he had been dragged in by a mysterious person who had only referred to himself as "The Dealer" and had left a case for him with a single note. Inside was probably the most beautiful golden Derringer he had ever seen. After getting himself together, Bart went on his way, determined to avoid drawing the notice of Mr. Matthews until he was strong enough to face him down.
  
  
  Personality:
  
  General: Despite what happened, Bart is just as happy and carefree a gambler as ever, never shying away from an opportunity to double the money in his pocket, even at the expense of another.
  
  
  Flaws: Reckless, Mercenary by Nature, Unreliable
  
  
  Strengths: Cunning, Witty, Decent Shot
  
  
  
• 
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Overall:
  
  Name: Whimsy
  
  
  Personality: Whimsy says whatever is on his mind. Zero filter. He wants to have fun, and since he can't have it himself he intends to live vicariously through Bartholomew.
  
  
  Appearance:
  
  Whimsy is a solid gold Derringer that shoots a massive, golden beam.
  
  
  Abilities:
  
  Whimsy fires an absolutely massive golden beam of nearly blinding light that kicks up the wind fiercely when fired and does... absolutely nothing at all to normal people and weapons. To the other Arcana weapons however, it renders their powers inert for twenty minutes and allows Whimsy to duplicate that power until the next sunrise.
  
  
  
• 
  
  
  Bart walked casually, his hands in his pockets. Cash! There was so much cash weighing him down all over, and yet he couldn't remember feeling lighter. He almost skipped down the road through the night from how giddy he was. The worn old $100 bill pinned inside his jacket under his shoulderpad no longer needed to wear itself thin, not after this!
  
  
  He almost didn't hear the hoof beats behind him, but as he turned a team of horses all bearing riders encircled him on that lonely road. "Yeah... that's him," one of the riders announced as they took a good look at Bart. It was times like these, he wished he wore a hat, or something. "What do you need me for, gentlemen?" he inquired aloud, attempting his best to get in a position to talk them out of something hasty. "Never you mind," came a rough, grating voice from one of the riders as he drew his sidearm. Bart opened his mouth to say anything at all, but he never got the chance. All he heard was thunder, and then all he saw was black.
  
  
  When he awoke, he was certain of only two things. That he was in the most pain he'd ever been in, in his entire life was one. That the chemicals in the air were so strong that they made his nostrils burn was the other. He sat up dazed, while confusion sank in slowly. The old man scratching out notes at his desk in this notably clinical setting assured him that this wasn't Heaven the way Matron Braun had preached it. The light, curious voice of the old doctor confirmed Heaven wasn't here when he questioned: "Oh, alive are ya?" Bart still felt too dizzy to sit up and just nodded his head.
  
  
  "Thanks for finding me and patching me up, Doc." Bart closed his eyes slowly, intending to go back to sleep for the time being only to hear the doc speak again. "Oh, it wasn't me," he volunteered in a hushed and ominous tone. Bart's eyes shot open again, and slowly he rolled his head to the side to get a look at the doctor's face, a grim feeling falling over him then. "Who did then, doc?" The doctor shook his head. "Don't rightly know. A mysterious stranger who was disappearing into the night by the time I found you on my doorstep, thanks to the knocking. He left me a payment, and you... you just kept repeating something about a deal. I figured nothing of it at the time." Bart decided that nodding off wasn't such a good idea. He pushed himself upright.
  
  
  "Whoa! Hey! Don't do that! You'll open those wounds right back up!" Bart shook his head. "Don't get me wrong doc, I'm grateful. But I don't much feel like sittin' around waitin' for that mysterious stranger to ask me any favors in return." Bart noticed his shirt and, stiff and in pain, began to put it on. The doctor sighed, rising and moving to take a lovely valise from a shelf. "Sorry, sonny. But he left me a note. This here's for you, and it's got your own note for you. I'm not allowed to read yours, and you're not allowed to read mine." Bart scowled. It felt like he was being played, much as he felt he owed this mysterious stranger his life. It just didn't sit right.
  
  
  Bart left that afternoon with a fresh bandage, his tattered clothes, one golden Derringer, a note from a mysterious stranger, a heavy heart, a buzzing mind, and a single $100 bill pinned inside his jacket.
  
  

 

[OverconfidentMagi]

• Stephano Caliban
• Judgement
• Writing Sample

• 
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Overall:
  
  Name: Stephano Caliban
  
  
  Gender: Male
  
  
  Orientation: Heterosexual
  
  
  Appearance:
  
  General: Stephano is a rather tall man, enough to come off as slightly intimidating. His pale skin is a result of spending most of his time indoors. He almost always is seen wearing formal attire.
  
  
  Eye color: Bright Blue
  
  
  Hair: Blonde and shoulder-length, becoming slightly darker towards the end.
  
  
  Scars, Birthmarks, etc.: None
  
  
  History:
  
  Stephano was a pastor in the south before the war. He had a simple church where he spoke to everyone who passed through his doors. The locals liked him because he acted like just another person, spoke kindly to everyone, and kept his doors open to listen to their problems at all times of the day and night.
  
  
  When the war started to heat up Stephano had to deal with the troubles and fears of the people around him. For every person's worry he could ease away, news of conflict in another town would give rise to even more fear and tension. Men and boys came to him for reassurance or maybe just to hear one more kind word before leaving to fight. The words that came to be repeated so many times by those who left through the church doors for the war was "God, please keep my family safe from harm."
  
  
  
  
  
  
  God must not have heard. Or perhaps he just didn't care. Maybe there's only so much that can be protected in a war, even if you're God. As the conflict got closer and closer to the town his church was in, Stephano kept himself very busy keeping close to all of the families that had decided that they weren't going to leave. If the fighting got any closer the locals were to take shelter inside the church for safety. Thankfully the fighting pushed away from the town after a week of constant danger.
  
  
  A couple of days later, Stephano was called away to a nearby fort to speak for a general that had been shot in the chest and shoulder during the last battle and would likely be dead in a matter of days. While he was there he visited the sick and injured soldiers and spoke to each and prayed for their recovery and for the well-being of all of the soldiers still fighting.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  When he returned to his town he returned to find Hell. The town had been attacked, very recently too. He checked every house he passed, but there wasn't a sign of life in any of them, the town was deathly silent. A couple of buildings looked like they had been set on fire, but the drizzle and recent rains had kept the flames from spreading to anything else or even fully engulfing any buildings. But that was terror, Hell awaited inside his own church. Every single person from the town was inside his church, and not a single one was alive. From the looks of it they had all taken shelter when the fighting had gotten too close but they'd been gunned down inside the church regardless. The inside of the space was filled with bullet holes, shards of colored glass, and blood. There was so much blood.
  
  
  Most of Stephano Caliban died that day. What little of his soul that was left died when he picked up the gun and turned it on those who had committed the atrocity.
  
  
  Personality:
  
  General: Stephano's personality changes because of Judgement's influence. He's oftentimes a lot like his old self: kind, gentle, willing to do anything to help another person. He'll be compassionate, laughing with people he's just met or crying over their troubles, and cheerful to complete strangers. He is willing to do anything to keep harm from befalling those he's deemed to be under his protection. But there are other times things are a little... off. He becomes obsessive and sadistic, seeming to enjoy destruction around him until he takes it out on someone or something.
  
  
  Flaws: The sometimes slow, sometimes dramatic and sudden, changes in Stephano's entire personality tends to scare most sensible people away after a while. It's like getting to know a person only to have them be replaced by a slightly different version of the same person. Even if nothing else seems to change, it scares most people enough for either them or Stephano to leave. It's especially bad when he's absorbed too much misfortune with Judgement and his personality gets downright brutal and sadistic. Far too many people who've called him their friend have turned and ran from that side of Stephano.
  
  
  Strengths: Stephano can be one of the most kind and caring person you'll ever meet. If there's anything he can do to help another person, he'll do it without a second thought. He avoids making promises, no matter what they may be, and failure to do what he says weighs heavily on him. While it makes things more difficult for him, it also makes him incredibly trustworthy should others need to rely on him. The once-preacher is incredibly good on the organ, and the piano doesn't give him much trouble either. He's a little bit rusty since he learned as a boy and hasn't played much since, but he's also able to play the violin with some skill.
  
  
  
• 
  
  
  Overall:
  
  Name: Judgemet
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Personality: Despite being "Judgement", the voice that comes from the gun does very little of it. She leaves the decision of judging others to Stephano, preferring to question if something deserves judgement, both before and after it has already been judged. She doesn't seem to have strong opinions about things, at least not that she makes known. If she doesn't know something she will simply say so. Her lack of judgement towards anything even seems to include Stephano and his actions, though that doesn't mean she doesn't question him and the actions he takes on a regular basis. It's almost as if the gun is simply wishing to understand everything around it and why things happen.
  
  
  Appearance:
  
  I suggest reading the gun's ability before this as it makes more sense knowing what Judgement does. The image is of the gun as it usually appears. When it absorbs misery a long barrel is created out of white light starting at the end, giving Judgement its true form of a rifle. When fired the barrel again forms, this time from the end of the existing gun and out of the white smoke that the moths are made out of, and instead of stopping at the end of the barrel it continues to extend merging into the shape of the fired "projectile" being shot from the gun. In addition to its appearance changing when fired, the gun's sound it that of a horn instead of an explosion, and "wings" are formed from smoke coming out of the side of the gun.
  
  
  Abilities:
  
  Simply touching Judgement reveals misfortune everywhere it exists. It takes the form of white butterflies or moths made of white smoke that gather around examples of misfortune. The worse the misfortune, the more moths surround the thing. Judgement can take misfortune into itself by absorbing these moths, which reverses or lessens the signs of the misfortune. A simple example would be a person with a cut down their arm. To the person touching Judgement it would appear as if white moths were covering the wound and flying around it. The gun could take those moths into itself in a process that looks almost like the gun firing in reverse, in the process undoing the injury itself. But the misfortune undone by the gun must be done again, it can only store the misfortune away. When Judgement is fired, it fires all of the gathered misfortune in one blast, inflicting every pain and misery it's absorbed onto what it was pointed at. Misfortune cannot be stored in the gun for too long though, and it "leaks" out of the gun and into the person wielding it, which is largely responsible for Stephano's personality shifts when he's taken on too much misfortune without shooting it somewhere.
  
  
  Judgement can also be fired without using stored misfortune by using the wielder's own misfortune as fuel, but doing so is bad for the gun and can result in dangerous backlash onto the one firing.
  
  
  
• 
  
  
  Stephano fell to his knees as what had happened inside his beloved church hit him. Broken glass from the once beautiful windows crunched beneath him and blood stained his clothes. He was silent, shock delaying what came next for a few more seconds. And then he screamed.
  
  
  How long he knelt there screaming, at the scene before him, at himself, and at God all at once mixed together until his voice broke and gave out he isn't quite sure. He might have heard the man enter the church, he doesn't really remember. All he knows is that he felt a hand on his shoulder and that the man was there when he turned.
  
  
  "I'm sorry," the man said. "Do not judge me harshly for not shedding tears over this tragedy." He pulled a gun from some pocket Stephano couldn't see and held it out for the preacher to take. "If you wish you can right the wrongs of this world."
  
  
  He took the gun and looked at it, and when he looked back up the man was gone. It wasn't until later that he heard about the mysterious Dealer and gave the man he'd met that day that name. All around the inside of the church there were white moths. They covered every surface and flew through the blood-perfumed air, their bodies little more than wisps of smoke. The scene of the massacre itself, the bodies especially, was completely covered by the moths.
  
  
  If you judge what has happened here to be wrong, point me at what should not have happened and pull the trigger.
  
  
  Stephano didn't bother to question the voice, it didn't seem to matter at the time. He raised the gun towards the far side of his precious church and pulled the trigger. A light shone in front of the gun and grew and shaped into a long barrel that turned the gun into a long rifle. The moths lifted off of the bodies and debris covering the inside of the building and flew towards the gun. They swirled together into a twisting stream of white smoke that was sucked into the end of the gun. When the last of the wisps of smoke disappeared into the gun and the light faded turning the gun back into how it had first appeared, the inside of the church had been restored. The shards of glass had been reassembled into beautiful stained glass windows, the blasted apart splinters of wood had returned to their sources without ay sign of having been broken off, and the bodies of the people Stephano had held so dear had been restored to perfect condition. There was no sign of bullet holes or bloodshed on their bodies or clothing; they were in pristine condition, but they weren't alive.
  
  
  The damage can be undone, but the soul cannot be put back once it has left. To pass judgement on those who are guilty point me at them and pull the trigger again. The misfortune you've taken from here will be sent onto whoever I am aimed at.
  
  
  
  
  
  Stephano looked around his beautiful church once more, filled with people who might have just been sleeping if their skin wasn't a shade too pale and their chests unmoving. This place had once been holy, and he'd just witnessed what he would have considered a miracle before, but now he couldn't stand to stay within its walls another second. The preacher turned and ran out of the church, barely getting thoruhg the doors before again collapsing to the ground and throwing up. The gun in his hand was leaking some of the strange white smoke it had sucked up inside the church. He knew what he should do, what this weapon's purpose was.
  
  
  I am Judgement. The misfortunes of this world are yours to pass judgement on.
  
  
  "The people who did it," his voice was broken and hoarse from his screaming, but his icy blue eyes were sharp and focused. "I want them to pay for what they did."
  
  
  Then point me at them and judge them guilty.
  
  
  "So you are not God, correct?"
  
  
  No, I am nothing more than a gun.
  
  
  "No, you're wrong about that."
  
  
  Stephano stood back up, this time with more certainty. The town around him was scattered with more of the white moths, but he ignored those. Everyone was still dead. It would be wrong to erase every sign of why they had been killed. And he was using the signs of movement to figure out which way the soldiers had gone after leaving the town.
  
  
  He followed the path the soldiers had left for a couple of miles before he found them. The group had moved their camp further south after clearing the town they'd passed through. Upon seeing the men who had killed the people who had looked to him and God for protection and been massacred for their trust Stephano was filled with a fury he hadn't imagined himself capable of. These people were guilty of unjustifiable murders. They deserved to die, every single one of them!
  
  
  Pointing Judgement at the camp, white smoke poured out of its short barrel, swirling around to shape the long barrel of a rifle and then continuing to swirl into long billowing projectile stretching from the end of the gun towards the target. The sound of a horn echoed through the air, and more white smoke flowed out of the side of the gun and took the shape of wings curving back towards Stephano.
  
  
  
  
  The streaming "bullet" of smoke exploded from where it hit the first person moving inside the camp. It swirled around them and spread out to cover the entire group. The stream slowed, and the barrel of the gun turned back into smoke and left as the last trailing bits of the fired projectile, the wings fading away as well. As the sound of the trumpet faded, the white smoke condensed into hundreds of white moths, many of which landed on the tents and carts and on the men themselves, and many more that continued to flutter through the air around them. And then all at once everything the moths touched suffered the misery that had been taken from inside the church. Carts splintered apart, tents collapsed and ripped, guns cracked and broke, horses were filled with bullet holes, and the bodies of men were torn apart as if by gunfire. With the sound of Judgement faded, it was replaced by sounds of destruction and dying from those who hadn't been simply killed.
  
  
  The deed done, the rage that had filled Stephano had suddenly evaporated. He couldn't believe what he'd just done. He had killed a dozen men, more still screamed from their injuries, and animals too, they'd been caught up in his judgement as well. He couldn't understand what he'd been thinking. Nothing made any sense to him anymore.
  
  
  Stephano, we have to leave here. There are probably soldiers that weren't in the camp. They will have heard that and be rushing back.
  
  
  Still confused and hurting over everything that had been lost, the priest grabbed his gun and ran away into the forest.
  
  
  

 

[Soviet Panda]

• Connor McKinley
• The Emperor
• Writing Sample

• 
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Overall:
  
  Name: Connor McKinley
  
  
  Gender: Male
  
  
  Orientation: Straight
  
  
  Appearance:
  
  General: Standing at a staggering 6'5", he looks all the taller with his stretched out appearance. Some would call him scary because of this, but he simply views those people as unable to comprehend that there is a being this perfect on the face of the Earth.
  
  
  Eye color: Brown, but you cannot see them behind the mask.
  
  
  Hair: Black.
  
  
  Scars, Birthmarks, etc.: N/A, a fact he prides himself in.
  
  
  Anything else: He often wears a pure white mask, believing that a blank canvas is the most beautiful.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  History:
  
  Connor was raised in the lap of luxury. Whatever he wanted, he got. And what he didn't want disappeared. His parents adored him, calling him their precious artwork. And he grew up with that mentality, that he was a perfect piece of art that did not belong in this world. He hated the world that he was born into, hated it's imperfections. He did not fit in, he was to perfect to fit in.
  
  
  One day, a stranger came to him, claiming that he could help make the world perfect, just like Connor. And without a second thought, Connor accepted the offer. What was given to him at first confused Connor, it was a gun, but not just any gun, a Gun. It spoke to him, and sympathized with him, and told him the secret to achieving perfection in this world. Get rid of all the imperfections.
  
  
  Personality:
  
  General: In short, he's a perfectionist. Everything has to be just right for him to be happy about it, and so few things are just right. This often leads him to sighing a lot about seemingly nothing, and then fixing those things as best he can. Whether it's by moving it two inches to the left and pointing it just so, or erasing it from existence.
  
  
  Flaws: Perfectionist. Isn't fully in the "real world". Superiority complex.
  
  
  Strengths: He compliments you were compliments are deserved. That's about it really. He does hold a certain fondness of other Slingers, but that's because they are the closest thing to what he is.
  
  
  
• 
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Overall:
  
  Name: The Emperor
  
  
  Personality: Him and Connor are two pees in a pod. They both long for this world to be perfect, and believe that so far only they are. So strange, how not a single being is as perfect as they are.
  
  
  Appearance:
  
  The Emperor is by all means a hand cannon. Large and in charge, it's a surprise to see the thin Connor wielding such a large gun, and not break his hand with the force of the recoil. With it's fanciful engravings, it looks like it belongs on display more then shot.
  
  
  Abilities:
  
  The Emperor's ultimate ability, is that one shot cannot be stopped by anything. That shot refuses to be stopped by anything less then it's target. But both Connor and the Emperor have agreed to not waste their abilities on things not worthy. Instead, the Emperor simply does not have to be reloaded, making it's own shots perfect for him. No ordinary bullets will do with him.
  
  
  
• 
  
  
  They were all so... hideous. Clawing at the doors and windows, shouting to be let into the manor. Connor relented to the fact that if he squinted his eyes and turned his head that the scene could be called beautiful, but in a rather dark fashion. To him, there were animals barking at the gates and wanting in. He had a guess at why they wanted in, what with a shortage of everything and the manor having it all, it was a target to everyone. The guards they had hired got some of what they did not need, but there was simply to many people for the guards to all shoot. Perhaps some of them had decided to join the unruly mob, hoping for a bigger cut. Well, at least some were loyal, he had heard the shots to prove it.
  
  
  They were going to break in, there was no doubt of that. And there was nothing he could do to stop it. So, he had already embraced his imminent death, and prepared himself in the best way he could imagine. He wore a white suite, with a white mask on. Soon both those white articles would be stained red with his blood. Unfortunate that he had to die, he wouldn't be able to see the beauty he had made.
  
  
  With his eyes closed, he waited for his death, listening for the pounding of the door to cease and angry voices to replace it. For the windows to shatter and let these commoners come pouring it to kill him. But that was when something strange happened. Something heavy was placed on his lap, and a voice said "You two will be a perfect fit." But when Connor opened his eyes, he saw no body. But the weight on his lap was real, and so was the finely decorated magnum on his lap.
  
  
  Filthy savages. Connor heard in his head, a low bass that rumbled in his mind like thunder. They do not know what they have started. Well, shall we show them? Show them how kind and hospitable you and your family has been, and what your rage is like? Oh, but it must be done with grace, never forget that. If that old man put me with yet another cur then I will make sure you shoot him.
  
  
  Hm, that was odd, a talking gun. Well, he needed to load... Load me with those mundane rounds? Don't make me retch. They are not fit to be fired by the likes of me. Simply point and pull the trigger. Is that to hard for you to do? "If you do not stop talking, I will throw you in the rubbish pile where you belong." Connor threatened as he stood up. If he were to kill people, then he needed a change in wardrobe. He had time. Of course he had time. So, dashing off to his closet, he quickly changed into something more fitting. Such as darker clothing, all made of the finest leather of course, and a nice hat. Yes, a hat. Things like hats usually bring the whole thing together.
  
  
  As he set the hat on, he realized that the mask was still in place. About to remove it, he heard the doors be knocked in, and the windows shattered almost at the same time. Perhaps the mask would make it all look better. Yes, it would have to do. Exiting the room, he began descending the main stares when the first person entered. He was a fat man, with a blood stained apron and a cleaver in his hand. The butcher then, well former butcher.
  
  
  The gun seemed to spring to life, for it, not him it, lifted his hand and aimed at the butcher. And with a loud bang, blue fire shot out of the muzzle, and a hole appeared in the man. From there, all was a blur, Connor did not leave the stairs as more and more people entered from every where. And when it was all done, he was alive, and not even breathing hard.
  
  
  Oddly enough, the bodies and blood made a rather nice image. "I wish I had my painting equipment." Connor lamented silently. Don't worry. I will remember this scene for the both of us. I would love to see a painting of this. the gun said, surprised at what it was saying. But where are my manners. I am The Emperor. I have a feeling that we shall get along famously.
  
  
  "And I am Connor McKinley. I can sense that there is more to you then what has happened here. And I have a feeling that no one here was worthy of it. Correct me if I'm wrong." You are correct. Nothing can stop my shots if I so choose. Alas, I have not once met someone worthy of those shots. Perhaps with you, Slinger, I will meet someone worthy of my true form. "It would be my honor." And truth be told, he wanted to see it happen with his own two eyes.
  
  
  

 

[Remmock]

Hahah! Fixed and finished my profile entry!

 

[Blackrose7]

• Lucy Salvatore
• Wheel of Fortune
• Writing Sample

• 
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Overall:
  
  Name: Lucy Salvatore
  
  
  Gender: Female
  
  
  Orientation: Straight
  
  
  Appearance:
  
  General: Lucy has long beautiful blue hair that is straight, and have blue eyes. Her skin is fair, and she is wearing the lovely blue dress in the picture, since the casual dress is her favorite. Lucy has brown boots, and has a butterfly necklace around her neck, since her grandma gave that necklace to her on her birthday.
  
  
  Eye color: Blue
  
  
  Hair: Blue
  
  
  History:
  
  Lucy or Problem Girl, as her family always called her. Since they ended up giving her that nickname after all of the problems that Lucy accidentally caused when she was around. She is from a normal family who lives in Florida, since her parents wanted to work in both a farm and a sheriff in a different town. Because it can help them get the food that they needed if something bad happens to them, plus they can get protection from her dad.
  
  
  But not everything was great for them, since Lucy's father ended up dying by some pirates, who was causing trouble in the town that he was protecting. Some bandits then tried to rob their house by wanting to kill her mother first. But lucky for them, the bandits didn't get a chance to shoot her, since the sheriff and the polices in their town came to help them.
  
  
  The bandits then tried to rob their house again after managing to escape from jail within a month. But a mysterious man ended up appearing towards Lucy this time, and gave her a gun, since the second bandit attack won't be as lucky as the first time they did it. Lucy shot every single one of the bandits with her bad luck bullets, and threw all of their dead bodies in the incinerator. Since not only she doesn't want the sheriff to see this after she have cleaned up all of the blood from the ground, but it will also warm up her house too.
  
  
  Personality:
  
  General: Lucy's bad luck is a freaking curse, since not only did it cause some problems for her and her family. But Lucy's bad luck almost ended up killing her mother, because of some stupid bandits who tried to rob their house, since they were pointing their guns at her mother. The bandits however failed to rob them, because Lucy's bad luck temporary changed into a good luck. Since the sheriff came to their area, and immediately arrested the bandits after disarming their guns.
  
  
  Her family always blames all of their problems towards her, when something bad happens to them, since they know that Lucy's bad luck is affecting them badly. Lucy however is very use to being blamed at by her family, since she doesn't really care about it at this point. She is also cheerful and caring towards others, but if she tried to help them when her bad luck is still around. Lucy always causes more problems for that person, instead of them getting the help that they needed.
  
  
  Flaws: Because Lucy's luck is usually bad, she might end up rubbing some of that bad luck towards somebody else by accident. She is a cry baby when something bad happens to her, but Lucy does quickly stop crying afterwards. Lucy is always the one that everybody blames their problems at, since she always ended up creating more problems without meaning to, because of her bad luck.
  
  
  Strengths: Even though Lucy has bad luck, she is still has an cheerful and caring personality. She is playful, because Lucy loves to play poker, and she has the will to keep moving toward during some bad times, since she is already use to it. Lucy also doesn't care if she is being blamed at, since she usually just ignore it. She is also independant of others, but let them help if she needs it. Plus Lucy isn't afraid of having to deal with scary soltuations, since she had to deal with a bunch of scary soltuations in her life.
  
  
  
• 
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Overall:
  
  Name: Fortuna
  
  
  Personality: Fortuna and Lucy are almost like sisters, since Fortuna always has a habit to help Lucy out with her bad luck problems. She does feel bad for her when Lucy does have to deal with her bad luck, but Fortuna is also impressed that she can handle the bad luck problem very well. Fortuna loves to talk to Lucy a lot, and she really won't shut up when Lucy is playing poker with someone.
  
  
  Appearance:
  
  Fortuna is a lovely Gold Revolver Gun, since it does fits well with her lucky theme.
  
  
  Abilities:
  
  Fortuna's powers will end up changing depended on Lucy's luck. If Lucy gets bad luck, then Fortuna can give all of Lucy's bad luck to someone else by shooting a special bad luck bullet at them. But if Lucy gets good luck, then she can use it to her advantage by making every single bullet miss her.
  
  
  Lucy can also remove some of her bad luck by touching something or someone, but it doesn't get rid of all of her bad luck as quickly as shooting someone with a bad luck bullet.
  
  
  However the bad luck bullet has one chance to hit someone, because if Lucy doesn't hit them with the bad luck bullet the first time. All of her bad luck will become even worst than before, since she didn't get to transfer her bad luck to someone else
• 
  
  
  The quiet country side of Florida use to be a peaceful place for Lucy and her family to live, but when the news of her father dying in the hands of pirate came. Everybody in her family started to cry, since they all loved Lucy's father with all of their heart.
  
  
  "This is all your fault that Max is dead, Lucy." said Lucy's mother, since she needed to take all of her anger and sadness out towards someone.
  
  
  "I know, and I don't care that you are blaming father's death towards me. Since I am always use to you guys blaming me for everything." said Lucy, since she didn't care about her mother blaming her problems on her again. Because she was more upset that her kind father was killing by pirates.
  
  
  Weeks then passed by after the news of Lucy's father death, and everything seemed to be normal. But when that day came, everybody in her family was scared out of their minds!
  
  
  "Lucy, did you took care of all of the crops and animals?" said Lucy's mother, who was washing the dishes.
  
  
  "I am taking care of both the crops and animals, mom." said Lucy, who was taking care of them.
  
  
  Some bandits then ended up walking towards their house, since they wanted to rob them of their stuff.
  
  
  But Lucy knew that something bad was going to happen, since she did noticed the bandits was walking towards their house.
  
  
  "MOM! Some bandits are trying to rob our house!" said Lucy, as she immediately went inside of her house by using the back door.
  
  
  Lucy's mom heard what Lucy said through the window, but she ended up deciding to walk towards the front door. Since she didn't know if Lucy was telling the truth or not, because she does know that Lucy has caused so much trouble in their family, thanks to her bad luck.
  
  
  When Lucy's mother exit the front door to go outside, she was greeted with guns in her face.
  
  
  "Why hello beautiful. I wasn't excepted to see a beautiful women like you in this ugly house, but sadly since you are in our way. We have to kill you, since you want your stuff badly." said The bandit, who was pointing a gun at her mother's head. Lucy was praying for her mother to be safe, since she and her little brother: Jack are the only family that Lucy has now.
  
  
  Lucy's prayer did however came true, since the sheriff came to her area, and saw the bandits tried to harm her mother. Since they want to rob their house badly, because they have shelter and food here.
  
  
  "Stop right there, bandits! How dare to try to rob this innocent family's house." said The sheriff.
  
  
  "Oh crap, it's the sheriff!" said One of the bandits, since they knew that the sheriff was going to get back-up.
  
  
  They immediately ran away from both Lucy's mother and their house, since they had to run away from the sheriff now. But they ended up being captured later on, and was sent to jail.
  
  
  After the whole bandit problem was over, Lucy and her family returned to their normal lives, since they didn't know that they were going to have a second bandit attack in the future.
  
  
  Another month has passed, and everything seemed to be normal like usual.
  
  
  But this time, the bandits who was supposed to be jail was walking towards their house from the back.
  
  
  "MOM! The bandits are back again!" said Lucy, since she wasn't excepting to see them again.
  
  
  Lucy's mother heard what Lucy said through the window again, but she didn't went to the front door this time, since she knew that what Lucy said was true, and she didn't want the bandits having to point their guns at her again.
  
  
  "LUCY! Come inside immediately, since it's not safe to be outside anymore." said Lucy's mother. Lucy was going to head inside of the house by using the back door, but someone caught her attention.
  
  
  "Don't head inside of the house just yet, since the bandits are going to kill you and your family if you do that." said The Mysterious Man. Lucy didn't know what to do, since she wanted to listen to her mother.
  
  
  Because she wants to be a good obedience daughter to her, since her mother already doesn't trust her with the bad luck problem in their house.
  
  
  "Please help me save my family from the bandits, since they are the only family that I still have." said Lucy, since she needs all of the help she can get right now.
  
  
  "I can't help you with your problem, Lucy. But I can insist you by giving you this." said The Mysterious Man, as he gave her a gun. "Now then, do you know how to use a gun?"
  
  
  "I never used a gun before sir." said Lucy.
  
  
  "Then I hope you get to learn how to use it properly fast, since you are going to need it." said The Mysterious Man.
  
  
  "Thank you...um." said Lucy, since she didn't know what to call him, because he never gave his name to her.
  
  
  "Just call me the Dealer. Now go, and defend your family, Lucy." said The Dealer, as he walked towards the front of her house.
  
  
  "Hey wait! My mom is going to see...you?" said Lucy, as she followed the Dealer towards the front of her house, since she didn't know that he was going to end up disappearing on her from thin air.
  
  
  "Wait what?! Where did he go?" said Lucy.
  
  
  'Lucy, now is not the time to wonder where the Dealer went. Since your family is still in danger from the bandits!' [/color]
  
  
  Lucy heard the tiny voice that came out of nowhere, and she was extremely confuse by this , since it didn't sound the Dealer's voice.
  
  
  "What on earth was that, since I don't see anybody that is outside. Because I am the only one who is outside right now." said Lucy, who was looking around to see who else was there.
  
  
  'Hey you idiot. The bandits are just looking at us like a bunch of idiots.'
  
  
  Lucy however was still looking for where the voice is coming from, since she didn't know where it is.
  
  
  "Hey kid. Do you got a some weird problem of yours or what, since you are just looking around like a crazy person would do." said One of the bandits, as the other two started to laugh. Since they were extremely interested with watching Lucy looking around like a idiot.
  
  
  'Raise the gun.' Lucy adjusted her grip on the gun, and putted some of her fingers on the trigger.
  
  
  'Aim.' She pointed the gun at the bandits, since they have no idea what she is going to do right now.
  
  
  'FIRE!!!' Lucy shot one of the bandits in the head, and this caused them to become very surprise.
  
  
  

 

[Blackrose7]

• Alison
• The Empress
• Writing Sample

• 
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Overall:
  
  Name: Alison Serre
  
  
  Gender: Female
  
  
  Orientation: Straight
  
  
  Appearance:
  
  General: Alison has blonde romantic braid hairstyle with brown eye color. She wear the loving earring, brown dress, white tie front cardigan, brown collar, and brown boots. Her skin is fair, and she wears a brown bracelet on her right arm.
  
  
  Eye color: Brown
  
  
  Hair: Blonde
  
  
  History:
  
  Alison was also raised in the lap of luxury just like Connor is. But unlike him, she did almost everything by herself, since she wanted to be independent. Her parents was very proud of her because of this, but they did told that she should let the maids help her sometimes. Since her parents didn't want them to end up being fired, because of Alison being too independent. So Alison sometimes did that, and she took care of her rose garden every single day, because she loves that garden.
  
  
  One day, a stranger came up to her in the middle of night for some reason. Although she isn't know why he was here, the stranger ended up responding to her by saying "So do you want to help the world by preserving the nature, and getting rid the uncreative people? Since I can help you with that." Unsure if she should accept this stranger's offer, Alison ended up deciding that she should accept it after a few minutes. Because she can help the whole world if she accepted this guy's offer. The Dealer gave her a gun, and told her that his name is the Dealer. But Alison was confuse, since wasn't excepting a Gun. Empress talked to Alison for the first time, and this ended up surprising her. Empress laughed a bit, and told her that this world will ended up having it beautiful nature again. Since she can help Alison with that problem.
  
  
  Personality:
  
  General: Lazy, Sometimes uncreative but usually is creative when she gets an idea, hates perfectionist, and people with a superiority complex, independent, loves looking at herself in a mirror, loves nature, and like kids. <- This sum up what Alison's personalities is about.
  
  
  Flaws: Alison is sometimes lazy and uncreative at times, but she does get over with it. She hates people who are perfectionist, and have a superiority complex. Since Alison thinks that perfectionists are unrealistic to the real world, and their superiority complex towards others is what she despise, because she doesn't want to be superior towards everybody else.
  
  
  Strengths: She is independent most of the time , and will usually look at herself in the mirror, since not only it's kind of small habit of hers, but she is too beautiful to ignore her beautiful self. Alison is very creative, and loves to take care of nature, since she has a rose garden in her manor, plus Alison also loves kids.
  
  
  
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  Overall:
  
  Name: Empress
  
  
  Personality: Empress is very ladylike, and is very creative. She really enjoys Lady Alison's company, even though Empress does get a bit disappointed when the maids has to help her with something, or when Alison has a temporary creative block. She likes how Alison respects nature, since she can take care of her favorite rose garden by herself. Empress
  
  
  Appearance:
  
  She is a double-barreled golden shotgun
  
  
  Abilities:
  
  Empress's ultimate ability is her beauty bullets. This special bullets can make both genders that she shot at fall in love for her gorgeous look. If someone touches her gun however, they will temporary become nature lover, or temporary make them extremely creative.
  
  
  
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  "This is getting so ridiculous." said Alison, as she saw out of her window that people wanted to get in the manor. Because she is extremely rich, and her family has all of the stuff that they needed.
  
  
  "Then would you like to use me on these impolite people?" said Empress.
  
  
  "Wait what?! Why do you want me to kill them?" said Alison, since she was very surprise by this.
  
  
  "No Alison. I don't want you to kill them, since I am going to make them into nature lovers. You just need to shoot them in the arm, and walk towards them, because they will all fall in love with your beauty." said Empress, since she knows what she is doing.
  
  
  "If you say so, Empress." said Alison, as she started to shoot everybody at the front gate in their arms. Since not only does she trust Empress at what she is doing right now, but Alison knows how to use a gun.
  
  
  Everybody that was at the front gate was able to come in, since they did manage to break the gates open.
  
  
  They all went to look for Alison first, since she was the one who started to shoot them with her gun.
  
  
  "Hey guys, I found the girl that was shooting us with her gun." said A random guy, since he managed to find Alison's room.
  
  
  Everybody then went towards the location of where Alison's room was at, since they all wanted to kill her.
  
  
  But when they open the door to Alison's room, they all stopped their attacks because they were all looking at her.
  
  
  "Oh my gosh, that girl is so beautiful!" said A random woman, since everybody in that room ended up nodding in agreement.
  
  
  "Now make all of them touch me, and they will all end up being nature lovers like you." said Empress cheerfully, since she is very happy that Alison is going to make everybody in this room into nature lovers.
  
  
  Alison got everybody in her room to touch Empress, and told them how to get food normally, since she is going to ask her parents if they can make a farm for these hungry people.
  
  
  Because they really need some help badly, since she wanted to help these new nature lovers in anyway possible.