Damon Inferel

Cyndy picks herself up off of the ground, being one of few kittens who can't land on her feet. "Meow!" She exclaims, lickerg her chops, prepared for something to eat. "Yasuo, feed me, please? I'd do it myself, but I can't hold the bag." She looks up, beggingly, at the one who is supposed to teach her how to become a human, as opposed to a speaking cat. A thought floats throguh her mind, riding on a large tuna, and she realizes she was smart enough to catch the wolf while he was drunk when he made the promise. Oh well, a promise is a promise, and he also promised to take care of her. "Yasuo... meow!" she laeps onto the top of his Irish head and pokes her kitten face right into his. "Food time! Meow! Yuo can stop arguing with the rude fox long enough to supply. I'll try to find a nap somewhere else once you've fed me. Meow!" Leaping back down from the perch between two wolf ears into Yasuo's hood, "I'll sleep here until you get around to feeding me." (OOC: she's a little demanding when she's hungry... meow!)

Damon grimaces slightly, noting that the Loremaster has misspelled his last name, but sighs and accepts his upgrade with a light smile. He's not one for crowds, so he runs off of the stage, wondering how his simplistic role-playing skills and graphic descriptions could have earned him a promotion. One more sigh as he hides behind a wall, listening to the loud trample of people who run by and hug everyone else, and he finds himself staring at the wall with great disinterest. "Damn alleyways..." He mutters, crawling out of his hiding space as the smoke clears from the rumble of feet plodding through the 'cathedral'. Well, i suppose my superiors should hear of this, no doubt they have already... He bangs his head on a wall momentarily. Oh, I don't have any superiors... He laughs a little and looks at the cleared hall, afternoon already setting in. This was unexpected. With one more sigh and a tinge of annoyance for sighing so much, he floats back to the Abyss to ponder how he can correct the error in his name. Fixed! Thank you so much for pointing that out. In his haste to not keep this waiting any longer, an unfortunate 'n' sneaked into your name! It has been eradicated for such Rude behavior! -P

OOC: After several hors, (or rather ten seconds) of deliberations with my translator before he committed suicide with a dishwasher, I have decided to speka in what is commonly known as French. However, assuming that any French people who listen to French hear it as English, since they understand it as if it were, I am effectively speaking English. Thank you... The small kitten, aptly named Cyndy as she had no idea where she could acquire a better name outside of a fireplace, climbed up Yasuo's shoulder and stuck a clover behind his ear. "There! Now you're Irish! Meow!" she jumped down to sniff the cookie, and found it was to her great pleasure that there were no macadamia nuts in it. Why did everyone think she liked macadamia nuts? She batted at it for a second and did a small twisted bcakflip and punced on the cookie. "Meow!" The cookie flew forward when she batted at it again, but she pounces towards it and rakes it in with her claws, licking the chocolate chips out of the center of it. after a minute, she loses interest in it and walks back over to Yasuo. "You don't remember me? You used to chase me under comfortable lounge chairs and up trees, and you promised you'd teach me how to turn into a human... like you... sort of... meow?" She rubbed against the wolf's left leg, and then his right. "Please? If you don't, I'll pounce on you and shove catnip down your shirt" She says in a mischevious singsong voice, almost soprano. "And then I'll just have to rip you apart until I get at it, because nobody messes with a hyper kitten! Meow!" she looks very proud of herself. She climbs back up and leaps over to the kitsune's shoulder. "I don't remember you, but do you think you could teach me?" The kitten sneers slightly at Yasuo in a joking distaste. "Besides, you probably speak better English... meow..." Curling up around the six year olds neck like a feather boa, she goes to sleep.

Meanwhile, back in Damon's comatose status, where the murky depths of the concrete hallway loomed before him... Damon awakes, sometime later, though the kitten is long gone. Due to the blackness and the cold concrete that reminds him he is still locked in his mental prison, he assumes it is still a dream. Wait a minute... If this was a dream, why am I looking at myself? He asks himself, suddenly watching his own unconscious body, lying on a concrete slab with a large wodden splinter embedded in his forehead. Um... His eyes widen as the pool of blood from his unconscious self starts to leak from the hole where the splinteri mpaled the back of his head as well. Holy crap! I died in my sleep! that is so damn freaky! I didn't think it was... possible to die like that... He paces back and forth for a short time, his light footsteps making an eerily loud noise as it clangs off of the aluminum walls of his shrinking room. The walls... they... are shrinking? He thinks about this a second before deciding it's best to not die a third time, as his hour of pacing has told him he was dead the moment he passed out. He had died of fright from the fox spirit that had presented herself. If this is still what is classified as being trapped in my mind, I can do whatever I want, right? Let me see... He focuses his thoughts for a second and produces a small laser which carves a hole in the aluminum. Without staring in awe, he grabs his other dead body and drags both of himself through the hole. Shortly after, the cube of thin metal collapses into itself and inverts, informing Damon that each time he dies is more gruesome, and the less of a chance he has to return to the world as a spirit. As the cube inverts, it charges towards him, but Damon brings up a large steel slab to crush the entire box before it expands to too great of proportions. Well, I like the ability to conjur things, even though none of them are actually real... "But they are real." A voice booms overhead. "Everything you see is real, but only in the spirit world. Effectively, this is hell, and we will come up with worse ways to kill you each time. Now, this is not the Hell, but rather a cheap remodeling used for film shoots. We just find it interesting to see how much carnage we can create, and how innovative you are with your new talents. When we are amused enough, you will return to the spirit world to join your aunt. Or... you can go there." A bright light is produced as a tunnel surrounds it. Let me guess, you are also a cheap movie set remake of God? Damon asks as the tunnel looms before him and he steadies his sniper rifle that he just created. "Well... no. I'm actually nobody. I'm the stage manager. I make sure the props are where they need to be, and that you still have enough bodies left over to kill. I was surprised how you handled that cube, but they will only get more--" He was cut off by a loud gunshot. I always knew that light was just a 100-watt bulb. Damon remarks as he throws the gun away. Sorry, I adapt really quickly to odd situations, so I think i'm done talking to you. Could you go away before I produce a preschool tape or something? Thanks. He jumps out of the way as a guillotine blade punctures the floor in front f him, falls victim to the other fifteen that collide with him in a criss-cross pattern. "Cocky, arrogant boy." The stage manager float s out of existence as Damon stands back up, staring at the mess that was made of him. Look! I have people to talk to all right?! Let me out of this deathtrap! There is nothing but blackness surrounds him, and the only sound is that of no sound. Things are serious again. Meanwhile, again, back in the real world A small hole bores itself in the skull of the corporeal dead body of Damon, his pulse fading from low to nothing. His heart stops, and he takes one last dying breath, saying nothing in particular. Though dead in mind the moment he set eyes on the fox spirit, but his physical body did not die until an hour after he set eyes on his mind's dead body, and thirty seconds after his apparent aunt and the fox had seen the cat walk away with the exclamation point. Blood trickles in a small pool onto the grass next to Lenore's grave. A twisted irony that two members of his family line die young, one younger than the other, and right next to the younger one as well. (OOC: Basically, as an hour passed in my head, you took thrity seconds to watch the hole in my head create and notice i was dead. Um... every time I die in my mind, you see the previous death, so if i die again... it's a little messy, but i don't intend on it again, so you won't have to watch my body line itself with a fence pattern of blood as I fall into various pieces... ok? Sorry for the description...)

Well, I am very sad to hear that, as what would a group be without people to join it. However, though I only know you through your online personas, I suppose I could say that you live on in spirit... Well, I suppose the deal with real life is a burden to us all, and I too might be joining the realm outside of fantasy here shortly. However, I hold my ability to multi-task in high esteem, so any who choose to take up where you left off are certainly welcome... though nobody could replace you. I hope it is the future warriors who die in a balze of glory who shout your name in honor as they fall into the murky pits of flaming quicksand. So long dear friends and comrades! We shall miss you all. BPO and Archaneus, I bid you farewell in short time, and pray that the real world could be as enjoying as the unreal one... thanks for being there.

Gabriel looked up at the dark sorcerer and a though of hopelessness fluttered through his mind. What have you gotten yourself into? This is only a servant, and you're already on the ground? What kind of grace is that? Get up. The elf flicked his eyes back and forth ,noticing that the Servant had recently stepped in something unpleasant, and decided to wrinkle his nose as he tried to pull himself off of the ground. His arm collapsed underneath him, apparently broken. He had never taken so much damage while he was drunk before, and he couldn't stop himself from ignoring the pain or he would have died. It was a lose-lose situation, and he knew it. Despite that, Gabriel tried one more time with his other arm, and found, thankfully, that it wasn't broken. "After you're dead..." He looked up at Cate. "I'm going to get so drunk that I make myself giddy, and then I'm going to sing a song about you, and how retarded you are." He smiled, proping himself onto his elbow, face still glancing at the ground and its several different colors of flour and hay. He never felt so much like he was on a farm. "What?" Cate said inquisitively, with a touch of playfulness. "I'm sorry, I couldn't hear you. It seems that the ground is absorbing your voice, bard. Let me help you annunciate." Cate brought his foot up into Gabriel's throat, causing him to do half of a backflip and skid into the wall, chipping some of the red paint while splintering two boards. "Oh my, it seems I did just the opposite. You actually might not be able to speak for a few weeks with a wound like that, but at least you're facing me now." The elven bard looked at his foe, who was toying with him, and paused to cough. A moderately large amount of blood came from Gabriel's throat as he convulsed slightly. He attempted to speak, but found that he actually couldn't, and instinctively wondered why. As soon as he turned his attention to his throat, which was screaming in pain, he clutched it and began writhing in agony on the ground. "Dear, dear, bard. My time draws short, so I am afraid I will have to stop doddling." He turned to survey the rest of the group. "I will be taking Calonderiel now, and the rest of you can stay to watch if you are wise. Otherwise, you can end up like your friend here." He looked back at Gabriel calmly, knowing, or at least in his mind knowing, that he had won. "Goodbye bard. I congratulate you for damaging me, but you will not have the pleasure of gloating about it." He raised his hand slightly, pointing an open palm at the bard, but was interrupted by a large tremor in the ground directly beneath him... Herbert was here.

OOC: Um... *laughs at his creative genius...sort of* I got a few good ideas for you all, and I think you might be surprised when you find out what they are. I'm kind of enthusiastic about it, but it all depends on when we get to that point... meo? I hope that didn't sound rude... OOC: By the way, I have something of an extended bio for Damon due sometime soon, or late... -ish. I'll just have all of you kow that i changed his classes from his bio, and I gave him one more level as a bit of a perk... you know, I have to stay ahead of you all somwehat. Shianna hasn't improved her level thouh, so you don't need to worry about that. Actually, his new bio is something of a character sheet, and I found something interesting. I wasn't aware of this in the beginning, but upon further study, I found he is the equivelent of a 22nd level character. Yay! Don't worry though... I won't hurt you all. Shianna The Vasharan looked at the elves around her curiously, keeping a particular eye on Iriador. (OOC: Um... I don't know how mny of you are elves... Sorry) It seemed as if she was concerned with something, trying to find a reply to Shianna's announcement. Shianna felt no sympathy for her. It was her fault she had been so suspicious, and as such, Damon had to trust her loyalty. certainly, if he wanted to know about her, he could have simply read her mind, but the ancient demon has fallen to letting things play themselves out. her thoughts ran about her head while she fumbled through the small pouch on her belt, and puled out a spellbook. She figured it would not hurt her to review her spells once more. She stood, somehwta impatiently, reading her book, waiting to see what the other members would do, how they would react. They all seemed to distrust her, but... there was a look in Senora's face that said something else. She closed her spellbook and stuffed it back into her pouch. She murmured a small incantation and tappedinto the cleric's mind with a detect thoughts spell. It was about twenty seconds later that she discovered that the cleric was well aware Shianna had no liking for her, and even considered her dangerous. So, she's an Empath. She can't sense my thoughts, but she can sense my feelings, and it appears she knows just how much I hate her. No matter, she may not have to worry about it for long, as soon as I finish my assignment. She turned her attention to Enos, igonoring the several other thoughts that were being picked up from other townsfolk and the other party members. He... seems curious. He picked up when I called their wealthy employer a demon. This should be amusing, as I can only imagine the questions they will have for him. I only hope this dear soul doesn't hide his thoughts from the others. I could corner him, and Orcus would be so proud of me. This can all be to my advantage... She tapped her foot a little bit, wondering when they were going to do something besides linger around. Their destination was directly in front of them by a few miles or more, and she had a cleric to take care of. Damon "You know, this is all playing out pretty well Razzengret." He said to his companion balor demon. "In time, I will have Dracinsyr's throne, and I will hold a place even closer to Orcus' court. I will finally rule my own layer of the Abyss, and once I assassinate Orcus, Graz'zt will grant me my total freedom. I do grow weary of lying about this never-ending war. It's no place for a talented asassin such as myself. It is some times that I find myself wishing we did have some form of politics, even if they were as traitorous as the ones in Hell. What do you think?" "Honestly, you shouldn't even bother. Orcus has already been resurrected once, and he would surely put a price on your head, possibly even larger than Elwen's." The balor's dark flames surrounded him, flashing back and forth with the steaming winds of Ginumium. (OOC: Ginumium is one of the layers of the Abyss...) The twelve foot demon sheathed his greatsword, and scrathed an itch on his crimson skin. It was not often he wasn't in battle, so he commonly had to deal with the plague of itches that troubled him. Many of the other demons found it amusing to inject him with a form of itching powder during one of Graz'zt's frequent parties. They didn't live long... "I don't seem to understand why all of the demon lords have a price for her! She's not a demon, she just happened to come across us when some idiot tried to use her as a sacrifice. She has no access to this Plane anymore, and yet everyone else seems to want her dead." Damon sighed, his white eyes reflectring a concerned look. "If they kill her, I'll never get what i want." "I don't understand why you are so upset. You are the one who loked oyourself away for half of a millenium studying her for weaknesses. Your opportunity came, and you weren't ready for it, so you hid fopr another century. You complain why everyone else is so obsessed with her, that she is harmless, but you are the one who has devoted your life to beating her. Tell me this. Do you know anything about direct combat?" "No, that wouldn't work against... you're right. I suppose I am obsessed. Her power is intriguin to me, and i would love ot be the one to finally quell what could have single-handedly taken our entire population out." "Sir, if i may request my leave now? There are threats to be suppressed, as opposed to listening to your banter." Damon ignored the insult. He was perhaps the only demon who did not act on instinct and referred to law. All else was chaos, which is why the others might die so frequently. "Yes, Razzengret... i mean General. I must be leaving to. I have preparations to make. My party should be leaving now." He flapped his ebon wongs once and faded from the Abyss, and Razzengret stalked out of the room. "An excellent leader, but a coward nonetheless. He's lucky to have my loyalty, or he would be dead. Hn... It's a little outlandish, but he might actualy accomplish his goals though." He grunted, approaching the stone window of Damon's rock fortress. The never-ending war raged on outside, and Razzengret flapped his massive wings with a war cry and dashed off into battle. OOC: Razzengret is not exactly an important character, but he might have a use later. He's the next closest thing to a non-chaotic demon there is, since he has been under Damon's court for so long. as far as friends go, that's essentially the nly frined Damon has... even if his frined is more powerful.

Well, as i find myself with two characters now, since i too would like to be part of the gore fest (gore: the act of ramming a spike or horn through a living thing), I suppose I should renew this little thread of ours (thanks Salinye) with a piece of Shianna Yvette. (I had to get around to this someday...) Shianna yvette is a Vasharan, which would explain her complete and utter hatred for gods, goddesses, clerics, priests, religious monks... and all of that stuff. In order to make sense of this, I'll give you the rundown on the Vashar. The Vashar are essentially the God's failed attempt at humanity. They are the human prototype. They look, sound, talk, taste, and all of that other stuff, like a human... except they all have black hair. As the first 'human' turned out to be savage, stupid, and violent, the god's dismissed it... or killed it. In the last moments of the Vasharan's life, a demon brought itself forward from the Abyss and decided to use this breed for it's own twisted purposes. The Gods and such went about and created humans and elves and all of the other stuff, wile the Demons bred the Vashar. They were raised, knowing everything about their history of creation, and have only one ultimate goal. Deicide, or the destruction of the Gods. While they are not religious, they serve Demons from time to time as a means of getting power. Mortal weapons cannot harm a God, so they offer their souls or service for power to the demons. They have no concept of right or wrong, and have no qualms about incest, necrophelia, or anything else that would make a normal human run away in terror if he witnessed it. As the book I have says, or not, if eating the maggot-ridden flesh of a decaying corpse would help a Vasharan, they would do it. They also have no concept of right or wrong, but know enough to not become prisoners of the law. That's the Vashar in a nutshell, now for Shianna. Shianna Yvette is a Vasharan, as I have already said, and she has spent a lot of her life studying magic, hoping to be the first of her race to destroy the Gods, and she is only twenty. Vasharans have about the same life span as a human, as nobody can tell the difference unless they are told so. She usually doesn't pick fights with others out of her own safety, but rather chooses to manipulate her adversaries and allies through a number of divination spells, getting whjatever information she needs out of them. she is cold-hearted at most times, but still has some of the cheer that comes with being a young adult, though she tries to hide it, and does a very good job. Um... her personality is very commanding, but it is also very submissive, as she has subjected herself to horrific rites involving intimate relationships with Demons, the undead, and she has even slept with the dead in a good deal of comfort. She finds herself to be at home with the dead, and adores anything that is on the edge of it's life. It is pleasing to her to know that the older of the elven race still hold a young appearance, and she kills them to get pleasure out of it. This would explain why she is so infatuated with Iriador and Archaneus (though she hasn't expressed him yet.) (Also, even though Iriador is a lady, being Vasharan, she doesn't care... Don't worry though, she won't get the chance, and anything like that will be described as her leaving for the night, which might get a little suspicious.) Effectively, her personality is driven by a cold heart and lust. She prefers to be involved in rites that involve the death of a 'pure/virginal' sacrifice, and she steals many people for such purposes. (She had to leave her former home because the constables were investigating the disappearances caused by her) Um... how she looks? Well, she has a +2 cloak of resistance, and that is the only garment she wears to conceal herself. She found that it helped to attract a good deal of male sacrifices while not wearing anything, and she uses it to her advantage. She also has a custom made belt, a belt of pure marrow, which is a slotted strap of leather that holds the center finger bone of all of her good-aligned victims. These are used to cast her vile lance spell, which is her only weapon. This belt is extremely thin however, so as not to distract her sacrifices away from her, since she has no access to Enchantment spells. She also wears an additional two rings, an amulet, and a ( I hate using this word...) nipple clamp of exquisite pain, which turns all pain she endures into a pleasurable sensation. He rings are a ring of warmth so she does not become cold while wearing one garment and a +2 ring of protection to grant her frail little wizard body some extra protection. The amulet she has donned about her neck is a +1 amulet of natural armor, making her skin a little tougher, but no thicker. She also bears a symbol, a vile thing to see, that was clawed into her arm with what appears to be anger from the Abyss itself. Should the rune be struck, it bleeds ebony blood. Shianna finds this effect entertaining, and she frequently drinks the substance. As for what she is not wearing, she is what most would call both hauntingly skeletal, but hauntingly beautiful as well. It's her frail appearance that attracts many of her sacrifices, who do not find out until too late that she could effectively blink and destroy them. she loves to feed off of others lust and enjoys seeing them revel in fear as she has several of her undead servants torture them until they submit themselves to be willingly sacrificed to end the pain. Oh, right, her appearance... Um... she has black eyes, signifying that she is somewhat undead, but not too much of a clue to that. she is still completely mortal after all, but has been imbued with some of the talents of the undead. she has straight black hair that reaches a little past her waist. Um... I suppose that's it. I hiope nobody hates me for this, as I... ended up upsetting someone with one of my freakish ideas for a character.

Gabriel looks back at the crumpled elf, his slitted eyes blinking in confusion. He notices that the elf is unconscious, if not dead. He swallows his generic nature to covet anything pretty, and listens for a heartbeat. There is one, but it's a little more faint than should be possible. "Um..." He says to himself as he stands up, brushing the flour off of his pants, as well as off of Calonderiel. "Well, he's still alive!" He decides that the sword that was kicked towards him is going to be of no use, and he thus chooses to wield... a flour bag. He find this is not the most useful thing, as Cate decides he's just going to blink and rip the bag over Gabriel's head. Wheat flour, as it happened to be, falls in a massive mushroom cloud onto him. Gabriel blinks for a moment before picking up a rock. "I just changed, damn you!" He screams, lobbing the rock at Cate as it is simply reflected back at him with a twitch of his finger. Gabriel instinctively dodges it. It is evident that this is only a meager percentage, not even one, of Cate's power, and he is still drawing on more. This power is somehow matched, at least by a little bit, by Gabriel, who is evidently very pissed off about the whole flour thing. "You know, I nearly embarrased myself by changing into something clean, and you just had to go and mess it up, didn't you?!" Gabriel notes to himself that he looks like a total dumbass, but his vanity happens to be controlling him somewhat, sort of like a hidden power. A bard has to maintain his appearance after all, as nobody wants to throw gold at a stinky bard. His eyes flare for a second, changing from their usual ice blue to a neon green, and he is calm. Gabriel stands there, head bent slightly, mentally picturing his adversary, and snaps his head up. Without any warning, he laughs, but not as one would do so humorously. It's a unique kind of laugh, one that causes those around them to worry. (OOC: The laugh he used to have before he would assassinate people) He pulls out a bottle of wine and engulfs it in a record time, and begins staggering towards Cate(OOC: Much like Chu from Yu Yu Hakusho, or Jackie Chan in Legend of Drunken Master), while tossing the bottle away into a bale of hay. He weaves back and forth, gradually making his way to the foe that has presented himself, forgetting Calonderiel, Cole, Mordekai, and Jareena, and focusing only on his goal, despite how hopeless his subconscious knows his chances are. He recalls the daggers in his belt, (as his ditzy self never remembers them except for when he sits on them) and ignores them temporarily. Cate takes the effort to lift his hand and push Gabriel back with a minute portion of his dark energy, and does so, but only to a certain extent before the bard refuels his hatred for this person. The elf pushes his way through the attacks, weaving about and stumbling like a drunken fool with a psychotic demeanor, as his drunken state holds his pain in. After a minute or so Gabriel comes into contact with Cate, who abrubtly punches him in the stomach with a dash of his power. Gabriel falls backwards for a second, but pulls out his daggers fast enough to bury each one in a corresponding shoulder before Cate can react. He fastens his grip into them and unleashes all of his hatred into his blades, causing the Warrior of Darkness to shudder somewhat, before falling to his knees. Gabriel's eyes return to normal, and he stops giggling to himself, and he suddenly realizes he is completely wracked with pain. His system has reverted back to the 'immunity-to-drunkeness' state. "Well, I got'im." He smiles a little before falling to the ground in pain, but still conscious. Cate groans and stands up, not at the full capacity of his power anymore, and pulls the daggers out of his shoulders. It's obvious he has been hurt, but Gabriel stares in a mix of both wonder and fear. "That's... that's impossible! That attack has killed everyone I've ever fought! Why... how are you still living?!" "I congratulate you, you elven fool, for successfully injuring me, but you honestly think your puny hatred of me is going to kill me that easily? I could call myself hate incarnate for all I care. Certainly you have not made me more powerful, as most people tend to do, but I am not as weakened as I appear either. I still have enough power to destroy everyone in this room. Everyone, that is, except for that elf. In gratitude for injuring me, I'll make your end swift should you hand the other elf over to me. Should you choose to defy me..." Cate brushes himself off while surveying the rest of the party and then looks at the bard lying on the ground, still covered in wheat flour from hair to toe, and feels nothing but pity. "I do honestly feel sorry for you creatures. You have so many problems to deal with. War, plague, and conflicts of all sorts, whether domestic or large scale. Out of pity, I think I will make your ends swift anyway, and take the elf now. You will never have to deal with the largest problem in life again... life itself." (OOC: Meow! Please forgive me! I couldn't help myself! Meow! Meow! Meow! Again, I'm sorry for playing Cate, ashke. Meow! Cya! http://www.themightypen.net/public/style_emoticons/default/ohmy.gif )

Though unconscious, the boy's ears are working well, but his nerves seem to have gone into a crumple, and he is trying to untie the muddled phone cord they have become in his mind. He finds that the usually annoying poking is not quite as annoying. He figures it might be because he can't feel a thing, and there is currently a dial tone running through his subconscious annoying him more than poking ever could. Damn phone cord, if I could just pick up the reciever... after escaping this infernal net... then I could dial my conscious body to wake up. Well... before I faint again, I might want to figure out what was going on. The fox and the equal attitude of a hound ramble on in the background about who is a fox or a dog, before the real fox decides that as long as she knows the truth, all is well. Let me see here. Damon remarks to himself as he searches through the squirming mass of plastic-coated copper. Oh! Here it is! There is a brief flash of a smiling kitten holding an exclamation mark as it runs off into the reciever, signaling the solution has been located. Cute cat... He stares at a small piece of thread poking out discreetly and wonders... After less than a word of thought, he touches the string and it wiggles as if a small breeze hit it. The pink tip of the thread is now a micrometer lower than it used to be, noticeable only in the realm of the subconscious. I moved it! He smiles widely and then goes back to a confused frustration. Wasn't it supposed to... The entire phone cord collapses out of it's knot, like a building falling apart, and it now lies in a perfectly straight line leading to the reciever... six miles away. Damon sighs and prepares for the usual perilous journey through his mind. This happens every time I faint... I need to lighten up a little bit. Maybe whatever I'm fighting today won't try to pull out my teeth with a crowbar this time. He starts to walk and comes face to face with a wooden exclamation point... or rather wood to face. "Ow!" He falls over, his eyes spiraling wildly as he falls to the ground. The last thing he sees is the same pink kitten who was smiling at him a moment before. Meanwhile, out in the real world... Damon is lying there, sleeping if that is what a coma is called, when he yells "Ow!" While he was only unconscious before, he is now obviously in a real coma, as you see a small pink kitten fade away with a large wooden exclamation point... his thoughts becoming quasi-real. It's now obvious that while he's apparently not used to seeing fox demon or the like, he can make his thoughts a reality. (Which is why the two dead people didn't bother him so much.)

Shianna Shianna eyes the party curiously as they step out of the tavern door, the rays of sunshine poking brightly from behind the deciduous oak forest that lies in front of them. Her glance falls on Iriador, and she strides up to meet the elf's gaze with her own, searching for any kind of expression besides the blank spite that seems hidden poorly, though only to her. "You were supposed to brief these people, were you not? I am informed enough to know that you have the details of our assignment. I was instructed to inform you that you are the current leader of this band in the demon's absence, and I am here to support and supervise you. You, my gracious elf, are in command as to our direction, since you appear to be the only one who knows of where we are going." She smiles, realizing this was not something this lady was intending on doing, but it had been Damon's way of making certain she was reliable, as she held the most suspicion in the band. Should she be as great as Damon hopes she is, she should be able to overcome this easily... follow the leader. She laughs and turns to the forest. "I know we are to go there," she says as she points to the path east of the tavern, "but you are to take us where we need to go." (OOC: Yes,sshe did say demon in reference to Damon on purpose, and... though Iriador is the one leading the way, she doesn't really have to do anything... she's just the front lines... I have an idea I'm brewing, forgive my idealogical mind.)

OOC: Is lycanthropy allowed? I hope so... cuz here i am! Meow! >< Joining the dear canine friend of the woods, a small feline steps up to the plate... of food resting beside the small cottage... cheese container which is stored with the rest of her belongings in the house... dressing that is conveniently sitting in a bowl on the front porch ten miles away. The kitten speaks, and finds that her voice has not quite become used to the common tongue of humans, thus leaving her English broken with small meows now and again. "M-meow? Can mew teach mew to be a person now?" she asks timidly, hoping the wolf is not in another one of his... feeding moods today. It was at that point the new addition ot the small group found a comfortable lounge chair to hide under. The wolf's nose did not exactly help her position in those times though, so she'd commonly climb up a tree after determining the amount of dust bunnies were multiplying too fast under the chair. She did have one good memory though, and that was the chase through the forest itself when he hacked down a good deal of saplings trying to reach the cat. she simply laughed at him until he calmed down, which lasted about a week. The kitten reminisces on this and finds herself speaking her thoughts out loud. "Mewbe i shouldn't have mrowr at him. Mew looked happy after a mrowr... i'll try to not tease him..." She turns back to the wolf, who is still flahinfg the sword around as though it were a camera. "Meow! Meow! Mew want to mew human! Name mew?"

Damon blinks, now trying to make sense of the human fox in front of him. "I can understand the... three of you being dead, but could someone please explain that to me?" He points to the kitsune with a somewhat shaky finger. "I thought you were dead... humans." After noting that he has just 'seen it all', and finding that he wasn't quite used to the roaring excitement of a calm, demon possessed, cemetary, Damon faints.

Well, folks! There you have it! I certainly hope no one is unhappy, as I hate to make my players unhappy, but all of you are just being imbued with... *drumroll* TENTH LEVEL!!! Um... I actually have to go catch my bus back to school in a minute, so I'll catch you all in about half of an hour. By the way, Harmon/Kasmandre... when it is being read in words, it is difficult to tell whether a person is reluctant or not in choosing something. So, just as a precaution in case you were reluctant in making yon weapon decision, are you absolutely sure. You'd have to take the Exotic Weapon Proficiency (Bastard sword) feat in order to be proficient with it. Oh, and the feats... I couldn't find the ones you had, but I do have a list that I will be posting in due time. Some of the ones from online, all of the ones from the Book of Vile Darkness and the Player's Handbook, and even some of my own. In about two weeks, I will also have my own prestige classes posted, as well as the ones found in the DM Guide, and the BoVD. I'll see you all later... *thinks to self* Man... I really need to sort all of this stuff out...

Me? Well, though I happen to be one of the few people who is also a southpaw (lefty for those of you who may not know), I happen to love writing. I walk through the halls of my school and find any writing utensil that is on the ground... as long as it has an eraesr for pencils. I despise any form of regular pencil except those mad by Skillcraft... their lead/graphite is better than anyone elses. But, I overall prefer a nice .5mm mech pencil to do my D&D, my drawings, and a few other menial tasks. Otherwise, I use pens of all sorts for everything. Oh, and the mech pencils that have the extra metal point at the end... they make great cutting utensils, though I've never done more than poke myself with them. I use the cutting function for cutting the inside out of shapes on models made of paper. However, despute how much I love regular writing, nothing comes close to a good keyboard.

Gabriel finds himself staring stupidly at the weapon presented before him, lying in the mixture of dirt and flour carpeting the ground. "Um... what am I supposed to do with this?" he remarks as he picks up the blade. "You can't assassinate anyone with something like this." he looks thoughtful for a second before realizing there is a tiny red splotch on the back of Calonderiel's outfit. "Well, that's not right." He grasps the sword and finds a small sense of duty lurking in the cowardice of the thieving bard. "Mr... guy? You know, it's not easy to get blood out of an outfit, right?" The other assassin is currently swinging his hands at the boiling water spraying down at him... He probably can't hear me... "Hello!?" Oh great... I'm acting all heroic now. when did this come along? The bard finds the sword a litle heavy to wield and pauses for a second, wondering how somebody who resembled something no wider than the pen he used for lyrics could hold up a sword like this... or even two of them. "Hey! Um..." I'll never get his name right. Cadroniel! Um..." Oh crap, I messed up... "Are you okay? It looks like you hit a nail or something, and your back is bleeding." The water abruptly stops pouring from the pipe, wehre Gabriel notices that the twins are swinging at something that was there. "Eh?" Well, time to be... protective. The elf rushes over to Calonderiel's side, checking the 'wound' first. In a second, he recalls the paint on the wall. "Oh." He blinks, mentally slapping himself in the forehead. "Are you okay? It was just paint, but you look like you broke something at least. you just sit there while I swing this heavy thing in random directions." It's clear the elf has no idea what he's doing. "Say, you don't have a bow or something do you?" He swings the sword over his head, poised to strike the new guy if he comes near his employer, but falls backwards with the sword barely missing Calonderiel's arm. "Yeah, I really need something else."

*clears throat* Ahem... this may take a small amount of time to write... Well, it seems that so far we have three votes out of seven, seemingly in favor of upping the level. In that case, I might have ti increase a little bit of power in other places as well. *smiles* I am really enjoying this, but there is still the concern of needing one more vote for this. So, if anyone should get around to it, I need to know what I am doing. As itoshii Elwen posted, we are going to have to deal with Harmon's ego with a little displeasure. (j/k) But, it just gives him a little more rights to that whole "I could kick the crap out of all of you if you didn't thave those damn spells. Fight me one on one, and we'll seewhat happens." concept. considering almost everyone in the party is a spell caster, especially the new person Shianna. Damon, thankfully is not. *notes how long it took to write a spellbook and frowns* Spellcasters are not easy when they are wizards... But any other spellcaster gets their spells the cheap way, and they don't have to study so hard. Sorcerers just come with it as a package, clerics and paladins just get permission to use them, druids and rangers draw from Nature, and bards just have to throw a note or two out there. IMO... wizards are the only ones who actually have to work for them, but they get more power... *blinks* Sorry about that, it's a little ranting... Oh, my dear Harmon. I should have you know that your low Charisma score is not just for negotiations. Your... penalty for it... it's also what the Intimidate skill is based off of, as well as the Gather Information skill. So, you're not exactly intimidating, but should you quest long enough, I'll help you remedy that. But, you are not going to raise 'dem scurs over yonder no more. *blinks again* Um... forgive me, I am in a different mood. I think it's my stomach that has me confused... Um... also Harmon, broadsword is not exactly in the equipment list, so would you agree to a bastard sword? I think they are the same thing, just different names.

One might consider this a work worth listening to... *the demon shakes his head* In all honest, I find that stupidity has slapped me in the face as I could not have detailed this subject myself... *sigh* Well, you have my attention, whether I know all of this already or not. *with that, he leaps away into a field of daisys where he trips over his other character, Gabriel Pelous*

Shianna The pale woman glances down at the muscular embodiment of Harmon, sipping a beverage that reeks as though it too could be dead. She smiles for a second, wondering how something small enough to fit in a cup could smell worse than carrion. She hides her smile quickly, realizing that her immature sense of humor is not something to be displayed around suspicious people. It could be a weakness for her... She calmly pushes her way through the crowd of adventurers, whos eyes are following the swathed figure suspiciously, and steps to the door that the cleric disappeared into. She realizes she has forgotten that one of the members has spoken to her, and grasps the door handle with her left hand, now poking through the small fold where the two cloth ends meet, before turning to face the female elf in the party. "I ask that you do not refer to me as 'Lady'." she says before she looks directly at the discontent grimace on Iriador's face. "Certainly I have become aware that I am a suspicious figure, and that you, my precious elf, have not taken a liking to me. That is not to be unexpected, as I am being a bit sudden about my arrival, as well as my taking charge of you. You put it so crudely to say that I refer to this as 'babysitting', as I would never express such notions aloud. Although it seems you do, I hold nothing against you as of yet, fair elf, and I pray you do not give me a reason to. I am here to do my job and nothing more. Spite me and I will spite you back..." With that, she turns the handle and eyes the cleric behind the door with a hidden hatred. "Hello cleric. I note that you are speaking at the moment, but we have business to attend to. There will be time for that in the future." She softens her gaze at the somewhat venerable man who is picking his belongings up. "And you... what would someone as wise as you be doing in a travelling party. Should you not be enjoying what luxury there is to retired life?" This man... she sighs mentally So near death... so precious in his venerable years. I only hope I do not need to wait long. "We should go." she states, snapping her gaze back to it's icy blackness. "We have work to do." The fighter must be one of the group, so I should have to pull him away from his foul drink to hoist him into battle. How someone could choose to waste their mind for muscle is certainly not a logical thing for one to do, but in such a motley party as this, his uses are not limited... As she turns out of the room, she gives a neutral stare at the elf for a second before heading down the stairs, and motions for the party to follow her, though she does not look to see if they choose to trail behind. The ale stained floor creaks slightly under her step and the small, clear spindle of stone orbits silently around her as she makes her way to Harmon. "We are leaving now."

Well, as you may or may not know, druids are always neutral. They do not necessarily care whos side they are on, so long as their forewst remains unharmed. Though you may be one who reveres one of the same deities they do, you still dwell in the city and spend at lewast some of your time killing the animals that threaten you. I mean, are you going to die just because you wouldn't kill a bear who is trying to tear your head off with its teeth? I don't think so. Since you also do some of the stuff that has to do with the modernization, and you are still invading their forest, you are a potential threat. Being neutral, you might be able to negotiate with them, but I wouldn't suggest doing that if Iriador or someone else decides to launch fireballs around. There are a lot of spellcasters here. Just to clarify the current mission, they are allied with a hermit who commands an army of squirrels... the hermit has been there for a very long time and has never disrespected the land. He tricked the druids into making them believe that you were enemies, and that you had come to destroy the forest. He's not stupid, he knows you are coming, Damon just... conveniently left that part out. But, they are allied with him, but their not opposed to dealing with the threat thorugh negotiations either... We'll see what happens... *sighs* if we ever get there.

*smirks back...* That's only because it was you, and I regretted it when you killed that stupid hydra... I would have felt too guilty to spoil your fun though. Good times though... *blinks* Oh, a reply to this thing I must write! Ah, Salinye/Senora... well, I don't think it should put too much of a damper on our little escapade, as many of us wait for others as it is, and I am still awaiting the dear Enos to make his post... as well as a good number of other people. BPO, Archaneus, you know, those people. So, we shouldn't be held up too much, if any at all. *ponders* I really hope i said that right... Well, just in case nobody read that far, as I tend to even bore myself after a while, if anybody has any questioons about game mechanics... or whatever else...-ish... let me know. By the way, I am not exactly a terribly wealthy person, so I am a little short on all of the book supplements. There are some feats (Harmon) that I do not know anything about. If you find something online, or you have a book that I don't, let me know what it says so I can use it for reference. If you get it online, then just give me the address. I spend a little time on the computer away from you jolly folks, so I could check it out. This is my first real shot at being something of a DM (since I'm no good in reality), and I am enjoying this. I'll devote whatever time i need to to making this successful. Thanks for not running away, and I still hope to see you in many adventures to come... I hope that didn't sound crappy... Oh, another note. I have noticed something that has become of interest to me. I don't know how many of you know that I play high powered campaigns, but I do. I grow tired of the same drab goblin beating on a caravan with us glomping onto them from an ambush somewhere... I was wondering if any of you would like a promotion before the fighting starts? Say, level ten? It would add one additional point to one of your ability scores, give you one other feat, and provide one or two magic items that are a little more powerful than a +1 ring of protection Besides, I'd love to be able to describe some of those new-fangled magic spells that a few people would have access to... and i'd like to get something powerful enough to fight you. The druids I was talking about... I'd like to... empower them somewhat. Last time I designed a fight (stupid wand...) it was very weak, and people destroyed them easily... (stupid wand) Since ten is in the middle, I can pretty much throw anything but a tarrasque at you, and you have something of a chance of living through it... It's a vote, so majority wins... I'm indifferent, and since there are seven of you... Well? I'll see you in a bit...

The bard looks suspiciously at the... *blinks* two characters at the door? Well, the one who recently made her arrival (OOC: Um... I don't remember if Sam is a guy char or not...) doesn't appear to be armed, and is a little bewildered, so he might be on our side. He glances back to Mordekai and Cole, who stand with their tea and... kitchen knives? "you're not used to fighting with sharp objects... are you? You know, despite the danger, if one could call it that," He reconsiders his statement as Calonderiel falls to the floor, a red spot on the back of his shirt. "...This is a wierd fight." The short elf snags a kitchen knife after bounding away from the knight and tries to cast an illusion... when his pants get caught on his ankle, causing him to tumble forwards at the feet of this new adversary. In a flash, he's back on his feet, grinning stupidly as he looks at the knife in his hand. "Um... hello. How are you today?" He comments shakily as he quickly hides the knife and holds out a bottle of wine. "Drink?" I hate confrontational fighting...

Shianna Shianna lays in her room that she had been appointed to by Dracinsyr. It was a new assignment, something that she hadn't done before... babysit. It had become obvious after Damon's visit to her employer that he would not be returning to his party for quite some time. She grumbles, drawing herself out of bed, and pulls her cloak around her as best she can around her rail-like figure, as that cloak is the only garment she owns. She strides across her room and finds herself confronted with a door, which is... opened. Wasting a spell is not something she was prepared to do. There were footsteps seemingly coming towards her, probably one of the party she was required to take care of. They were looking for a demon, a kitsune it seemed, at least that's what she thought Dracinsyr had told her. She never knew what the demon looked like, only that he was second in command to Orcus. What trouble that Damon might be in should I tell his boss that he is one under Graz'zt's rule. As she tok her time down the steps, an elf passed her by, heading in the direction where a small line of people was crowded around an open door. The door shut after a... cleric? went inside. Hn... Infernal gods... she shall die soon. I cannot have those under faith disrupting my duties. The smell of bacon and other ingredients downstairs was of no concern to her, so she made a decision to greet herself to the people she would be attending to for the next few days of their journey. With the dark cloak around her she grips it a little tighter as she walks to the door. "Excuse me..." she states, an eery calm in her voice "I believe you are the ones seeking the Miror of Darkness. Do not question how I know. I am Damon's... associate. As he is tending to his own business, I am going to assist you in what you may not be able to accomplish without me. You do not appear to be the most stout of warriors, and this mottled group of spellcasters you have here is adequate only by number. I am Shianna Yvette..." ...your babysitter. Her black hair rests flat and straight, almost blending with the faded material of the cloak, but contrasts with her pale, seemingly dead, white skin. Aside from her right hand, and her thin, but beautiful face, you can see nothing of her. Upon closer examination, one would find she is wearing no shoes either. Her figure has not yet been determined by the eye though...

OOC: There is some little thing I would like to inform you all of. I have noticed that a lot of the people who are in my campaign are a little more than just modest about their ability scores. I saw a 6 for his Charisma! I could not express how much I appreciate all of you creating very mortal characters, but I have a bit of a problem. You see, I have this infatuation with demons and other things that can rip people apart. To be honest, I don't want to lose any of you in the first fight. Elwen, who is so graciously usually around me somewhere (usually the other way around though) has participated in one or two of my campaigns here at my scholl to recognize that stats need to be pretty high to survive. (I'm never giving her a Wand of Ice Strom again though... >*_*<) As a 2nd edition person myself, or at least one with experience in that game, I know good stats are quite hard to come by, and there is a great deal of restrictions on the classes. It's nearly impossible to become a paladin for one! It's not easy to play 2nd... at least with the character you really want. In third edition, there are no limits as to what class you can be, even paladin. i'm not suggesting that you all change your classes now, but I would like to see some form of power out there so you all don't have your intestines absorbed by a wight in the first couple of fights. For example, Shianna Yvette, the new character, has the folllowing ability scores. Str: 9 (-1 mod/base score) Dex: 18 (+4 mod/ 16 base score and +2 from Gaunt Deformity Feat) Con: 11 (+0 mod/ 13 base score and -2 from Gaunt Deformity Feat) Int: 18 (+4 mod/base score) Wis: 15 (+2 mod/ 14 base score and +1 from 4th level) Cha: 17 (+3 mod/ 13 base score and +1 from 8th and 12th level) OOC: This is essentially how characters should start out. I usually give everyone at least one 18 if they choose to use it for their prime ability score. These would be... Barbarian: Str Bard: Cha Cleric: Wis Druid: Wis Fighter: Str Monk: Wis Paladin: Str (Crusader-kill-evil) or Cha (Heal-destroyzombie) Ranger: Dex Rogue (Thief): Dex Sorcerer: Cha Wizard: Int Other ablility scores should be somewhat generous. I decided 9 for Shianna's strength because she's a wizard and would not be doing much fighting. Everyone has a flaw, and someone who is intentionally anorexic and very, very, thin does not have a lot of muscle. Harmon, on the other hand is evidently full of muscle, as he so says. The primary ability does not have to be an 18, it's just a small generous gift. You might think Yeah, but I'd rather play someone who knows how to die! Well, I'm not telling you to change what you have, I'm just saying you wqould live a little bit longer if you weren't so modest. I play a very powerful campaign, and even the first fight will put you through hell. (and eventually, you'll actually be going there!) I don't think someone with a Charisma of 6 wants to try negotiations. I'll set 8 as the minimum, just for those of you who really do prefer to play something that can die... I hope this is understandable. OOC: I suppose I should say something about mods. You know 18 (mod +4)... Well, mods are for my reference mainly, but they are not additions to the ability. For example, someone using a longsword with a strength of 16 (mod +3) would deal 1d8+strength Mod Damage. thus giving the longsword a damage area of 4 thru 11. Your Dex mod is added to your AC. For those of you familiar with the classic term thac0 (to hit armor class 0), the opposite is used in thrid edition. To hit an AC of 20, you need to roll a twenty. In the past, an AC of -1 was grand. No goblin could possibly harm you. now... that AC would mean that the lowliest sloth could probably hit you. AC is reversed in third. OOC: Feats... feats are not something you walk on. These are special talents that a person/ other race has that enables them to perform extraordinary... feats of accomplishment. For example... the feat Precise Shot is a feat that enables you to shoot more accurately into melee combat. When you normally shoot into someone elses melee, you end up with a -4 penalty to your attack because you have a chance of hitting the other person. With the feat Precise Shot, you are so well attuned to the weapon and your aim, that you do not suffer that penalty. (Though, if you miss, you still would have to roll to see if you hit your comrade...) OOC: Well, I think that should do it. I have no problem paraphrasing the entire book, so if anybody has questions about the game, then let me know. I'll do my best to help out. I may be dealign with the mechanics of the game, but you all might still have some questions... ta ta...

OOC: Notes that I must make. Well, I have noticed that a few people have not been posting very often, which of course is no problem for me, it just makes my campaign less gory *pouts* and less difficult to manage. Anyhow, I suppose i should take some form of responsibility in noting where my players are. As such, should I not notice your presence on occasion, especially during a fight, I will PM you asking you to attend as soon as possible. I am not too worriesd about the conversations outside of fighting, as I will simply chock it up to them just going with the flow and doing what anyone else would do on a normal day. (i.e. just walking with the party silently) I just think you all might appreciate it a little bit if you were able to put your two cents in on occasion. So, I'll check up on you from time to time. I have a max of 999 messages in my inbox, so I can afford it! Meow! >< OOC: I would also like to announce a new party member. (you honestly think I would just survey everything?! C'mon, I'm fighting too!) Anyhow, I will be having a 'supervisor' join your party to accompany you thorugh your times of need. I'll try to distinguish between her and Damon, but that shouldn't be too hard. She'll be doing more talking than Damon because Damon is out on business for a few hours. So, I am introducing her. I have all of her stats, her character sheet and everything. Um... I guess I'll make sure you know who is talking by putting their name underlined at the beginning of a post... does that sound ok?