Name
Age
Skills/powers (don't be overly op)
Biography
Personalitly (can be hidden until the roleplay begins)
Theme song (optional)
Other

Rules.
1. No godmode
2. Respect the other roleplayers
3. be consitent with your characters
4. Keep it pg -13 otherwise fade to black
5. Don't overuse gore for the sake of gore
6. Write Zalgo. He comes. on your character sheet to show you've read the rules.
7. GM's word is final. but stuff can still be debated
8. Have fun.

Everything falls within a rank of how powerful they are. but even then the levels are just a basic guideline... and not always accurate. - The observer.

Level 6 Ancient. U̷̧̮̼̥̰͖̟̹̫̹̬̦ͪ̎̎̉ͥ͑̑͂ͮ̾ͪ̓́Ņ͉̞͔̣ͯ̋ͦ͗̈̌͐ͮ̚͜K̴̶̷̭̤̹̪̩̫̱̲̯̠ͮ̃̌ͦ̽̾̂ͬ͛ͥ͑̎̾̍͊͢͞N̸̸̲̹̰͖̞͕̻̗̝̙̥͈̥̮͎̥͔͎ͦ́͋̎͜ͅǪ͓͎̖͉̪̬̣̭̠̬͕̳̝͈̗̪̯̫̒ͤ̆ͨ̎ͩ̂ͣͩ̒͐ͨͧ̀͞W̷̸̯̭͉͓̙̜̬͎̪̥̺̹̮̣̠ͨ͋̉̃͑̽̂̀̿̾̈́̆͋̋̔̕͠ͅN̟̰͎͎̗̳̻̼̩͎͕̖͚̼͎ͭ͛̐̿̔͗͌͆ͨ͒̂̓̊̀͗̔͂̊́͝ ̗̺̻̯̗̖͖͖̻͈͎̭͍̜̣̰̠̾̑̉͌̋ͭ̾ͪͤ̇͟͜͞U̷̡̢̦͍̗̲̺̳͕͕͍̤̝̹̯͉̱̭̰͉͛ͦ͌ͦͪ̓̊͋̇̈̆͜͢N̷͕̜̰̞̟͖̻͍͕͇̟͍̥͆̓̈́̂̈́͊́͡ͅK̸̡͎͚̫̫̩̼̜̬̪͔̘̣̟̰͗͗͗̈́̾͐͋̐͒̋̄͛̃̅͊̀͞ͅͅN̂̏̈̎̉̏̈̈́̈ͦͥ̏͐ͥͮ͗ͯ̀͏̵̹͕̺̹̹̞̗̜̤̞̣͘O̡ͧͦ͒͟҉҉̭͕̥̼͇̖̬̳̗̬̭̲̩̭͇̼̦W͑ͬͮ͒̃͑͗͋͏̧͖̤̞̥̲̖̀͘N̩̙̖̘̞͉͉̯̠͈̼̰̣͚̠̉ͯ͊̋̓͆̅̃́͢ ͕̺̯̜̩̰̭͈̩̦̍͊̀̏̈̈́̋̑ͨ͆̍̀ͮ̆ͥͨ͑̔̕͞Uͨ̂͂ͫ̓̍̎̚҉͇̬̪̮͍͖̣̠͡͠N̨̡̳̙̭̫̘͖̜̝̜͇̟̭̭̬͇̱͓ͯ͊̉ͯͤ̑̄ͯ͞͡ͅĶ̨̺͔̩̬̩̠̠̦̺͈̎̾͑́͆̈́ͨ̔̐̒̎ͩ͂͡Ņ̵͛͋ͦ͐̓̒ͦͯ͑͗͊ͯ͌ͪ͊ͥ͐҉̻̝̭͖̤̜̗̖̬̬̭̰̫͎̝͝O̵̧͉͎͉̻̊͂̆ͫ͗ͮͣͬ́ͤ̀͌̊̈̀͟͡W̸͇̖̙̱̯͕̰͖̉ͪ̒̓͊͐̚N̐ͫͧ̂̀ͮ͑̃҉̪͙̹͇̰̰͉͎̱̖͍̬͢ ̗͔̜̗̹͍̺̙̫̬̪͈̤̟̘̳ͦ̾͑͌͊ͩ̃ͤ̐͂̓͆̾͂̈́̓͊ͮ͢Ư͇͉̮͕̹͉̰͇̖̬̦̤͈̞̱̼ͤ͂ͫ͐ͭ͑ͯ̅͊̈́͂̄̌̊͋͘N͛ͮ̿ͨ̓ͨ͆͟҉̩̹͖͔̬̱̠͕̯̩̦̗̥̮͎Ķ͕͚̘̤͖̠̰̰͙̱͙̜ͯ̃͌̒̔͘͢͞N̛ͭ͛̂ͫ́͘͡͏̘̪̰̞̟͎̦̗̣͉̹̼̯͘O͗͗̂͛̐̔͌̏͗͌̚͝҉̛̼̟̣̬̹̭̣̫͖̦̣͇̲̳ͅW̧̛̥̲͎͍̩̗̫̳̊̾̏̌̽ͥ̏̓̿ͦ͢͠ͅN̴̜͇̱̲̖̖̥̄͒̓̉́ ̷͉̼̘͖̋ͣͯͧͭ͑ͯ͜͜Ṵ̘̣̰̲̞̬͉̯̹̜̭̫͇̪̖̣̪̘̆̈́̌͋̔͂̀͢͡N̴̳͔̲͇̰̠͚̫̹̻̺̠̲̞̪̣͂͑̀̃ͬͨ͛ͬ́͢K̷̶̼̰̻ͩ̽͑̚͞͡Ṅ̵̸̨͍̠͇̤̣̞̙̦͙̤͎̻̳͉̻̙ͦͣ̃͗̈́̇ͅǑ͇̺̟̤̖̗̣̓ͯ̓ͬͨ̓ͧ͂̓ͮͯ̍̒ͪͩ͒̃̀͞͝W̨̳͖̥͇͔̉̒͆̈͗͂̅̈́̒ͬ͂̔͂̓̿͌̓̆̚͘͢͞N̛͕̗͔̪̖̥̯̤͎͓̲̱͖̖̜͔͇ͧ́̀͐̄̆͆͛͛̎̽́̀͠ ͓̤̱̜̘̝̖̮̦̘͙̗̉̊͛̌ͭ͐͢͠U̟̣͚̪̫̪̞̹͍̫̪͈̪̙̠̥̩͇͛ͣ̏̀ͫͯ͊̈́ͬͭ̃͜͡Ņ̴̵̻̻̯̩͙͈̪̲͉͓͔̙͇̮̱̻͆̾̐ͥͤ̆͗͊́ͅK̐̇̒̓͋͛̐̈̚͏̦̺̩̘̖̟̰͍͠Nͨ͊̆̂ͨͯ̄̌̏̐́̌͛͏̧͍͈̟̦͓̖͎̰͘ͅŐ̸̧̳̦̗̲͐͌̄̿͑̈́ͨ́̄̚W̸̢̨̦̦̩̻͚̝͕ͪ͛̐̾͋͂ͯͩ̇ͦ͗̽͋͡N͓̮͔̖͇̽̽͒̊̋̋̎͐͒̇̈̀̋͊̾͞ ̶̡̡͚̩̞̦̙̺̩̣͓̰͇̩̭̘̘̞̿ͬ̽ͯ́ͩ̎̿̐͆ͧ̾ͨ̄ͥ͟͞U̶̡̖̙̭̦̰̗̤̝̳̯̮̼̘̯̻͆ͨͤ̔ͣ̈́͋̐̑͊̉̚͟͠ͅN̗͕̙̦̫̞̆̀̄ͣ̔ͬ̋̍̐ͪ̉̅ͨ̐͂̏ͯ͘̕͝K̀̋̍̐͏̡͍̜͓̝͓̗͈ͅṈ̛̘̖͍͓͎̜̠̖͙̂̾̒̏͛̈́̉ͯ̄̓͋̐̌ͯ̄͟O͋͊̃ͪͧͤ̀̒́̋̚͏͈̣̝̗̦̞̬́͜͞W̉̐̀̋͋͘͢҉͎̖͕̱̠̥̙̻̼̙̜͙̩͇̖͇̦͎̜N̸̨̢̼̝͇͖̩̱͇̖̅̐ͥͨ̎ͩ̍ͩͯ̌͐̾ͭ̉̊͑͡ͅ ̢͈̹̞̽̽͂̽͋ͨͧͨ̅͛ͪ̾̊͛ͤͬ̀̚͢͡ͅU̵͈͔̩̙̟̩̰͙̟̜͇͋̎͐͋̊Ņ̀ͮ̐̽̐̕͟҉̩̹̗͎̤̹͓̥͕͇͎̥͕͓̲̞̻K̶͆̑ͧͪ̔ͭͮͨͥ̌̍̀̚͏̺͎̠̯̗̪̼͔̫̀N̶̷̷̫̬͕̝̱̙̥̰̦̝̯͈̾̊͐̅ͥͣͦ̓͊́̇͊̊̿͆͞ͅO̧͖̗̳͎̹̥ͫ͐͂̆̆̾͡W̵̛̩̥̙̪̠̦̼̞̦̻̺̬̬̩̮͓̣̌̌ͣ͊͑̐ͥ̋͗ͩ͗ͩͪ̍̂̚̕͜͝ͅN̸̢̡̨̯̹͍̰͇͍͓̮̖̫͒̈͑̉ͧ̀̑ͭ͊̍̌͋̀ͮ̀̓ ̨̗̲̝͕͇̠̣̳̝͕͔̻̂ͦ̇̿ͪ͛ͭ̀̚͜ͅU̸̜͖̭͓̫̤͊͗͋͗̿͂͛ͪ͐ͤ̓͌̂̿̽̏̓̀̕͢͠N̛̙̞̯ͪ̇̽͌͊̓ͯ͂ͨ̆̆͐̋̅̌͊̎͟ͅK̶̷͈̫̯̤̫̺̟͎̏̍̅͐̓́̕͘ͅN̶̨̘̯͇͉͓͕̺͉̫̯͔͔͒ͫͭ͋ͅŎ̺͔̯̱̣͉̺̝ͤ͛̀̔̓̌ͣ͒ͬ̑ͧ̚͠͝ͅW͎̤̖̙̹̱̥͕̹̒̈́ͦ̓ͭͨ̔ͣ̔͗̕͘͘͟͝N̶̸̸̪͔̱̥̖̲̠̥̭͙̻̤̬͍̝͖̦̳͆̀̊̃͒ͣͪ́̚ ̴̧̞̙͍̱̩̮͎̼͈͙̙͇͈͇̲̙̻ͬͥ̔͒͗̍U̸̡͕͍̺̟̫͕̳͎̩͖͔̻̠ͧ́̑ͮ́͂͂͛ͫ͛͊̃̒ͭ̓́͟ͅͅŅ̴͓̠͉̞̩̦̺̩̝̺ͣͮ̔ͯ͐̈́͘K̷̡̰͍̟̦̯̥̺͉̮̲̱̬̻̯ͤ͊̊̈́̌̌ͧͩ̃ͧ̔͘͜͠N̷̫̜̬̻̪͇̮̅̂̊̑͑ͫͩ͛̇ͥ̍̓̌̒̽ͯ̚͢͝O̸̡̻̦̙͚͎̥͌ͩ̌͑ͦ̈̾ͪ̋̽̈́͝͡͠W̟̝̼̘̬͉̬̩̭͍̥̱̟͎ͪ͆̊́͋ͩ̏̽̿͞N͂̆̒̋͘҉̧̩̙̱̟̤͉̹̬̺͚͔̳̮̥̬͜ ̵̦̘̤̯͕̘̜̻̗̭ͫͤ̆̉̎̇̾ͧ̊ͫ̌͌ͫ̚͡͠Ṷ̶̧̹͍̭̖̪̘͕̭̖̭̾̔͗̓̏ͣ̓̆̅̑̚͝Ņ͎̗̻̪͚͍̯͚̜̣̥͖̜͈ͦ̌̆͑̆ͤͤ͑ͮ̃͊͂̉̚͡͞K̨͈̗̼̝̦̦͖͐ͧ͗ͦͫ̓͌ͦ͛̎̃ͩ͋͌̄̚̚͟͜͡N̬̩̠̪̖̹͚̬͕͈͚̯̲͎̠͖̬̬͌̏͋̊̀̑͌ͯ̑ͫ̄̿̓̀͢Ơ̸̵̪̫̠͔̝͕̪̘̪͔̣͎̫̟̥͇̥͕̝̂̽̓̉̅̈́̒́ͩ̍ͤ̌́W̷̢̟̻̝̺̪̠ͨ̊ͭͦ̅̕ͅN͙͈̱̰̞̳̮̪̝̓ͤ̽̏̽̊̎̌̊̑̓̓̇͌̽ͭ̃́ ̢̯̠̮̻̲̲̺̫̺̙̀͊̅̓̄̎ͫͦ͆ͮ̏ͦ̓͘͢͡͞U͊̏ͭ̆͗͂̓̓͆̇̎͂ͨͪ͐͂͊̚̕͏̢͈̝̝͖̦̼̪̫̲ͅN̴̷͉̼̞̯̺̞̭͕͂̊̒̉͒̅̉̇͊͂͠Ḳ̴̯̥̳̺̣̮̼̟̻͕̻̌̏ͤ̌̉̾̿͋̔N̾ͥͥ́̅͆ͮ̈́̎҉͙̩̰̹̦̪͡O̸̜̫̩̥͉̩̠͔̮̬̫̙̰̱̥̗̭̖͍̓͒ͧ̅ͫ̆̅̾̓͊ͥͭ̄̒ͫͨ̀W̶̴͛̾ͨ͒ͮ̿́͐̀͑̇̽́҉̤̞̫̟N̸̡̰͎͓̬ͤ̔ͤ̃͠ ̸̶̠̠̗̫̲̤͕̭̼͔͈̯͖ͯ̇ͣ̆̈̓̌ͣ̆ͪ̕͟U̸̵̢̳̺͓͍̬͎͇̖̠͗̃ͫͯ̾̆̉͗ͥ̀̉͆͆̐̓́̚͞ͅŅ̵̸̤̖̥̣̙͈̤̜̾̑̀ͨ͗͒̿̐͟Ķ̴̳̱̻̦͓̜̻̙̤̲̹͍̪̗ͦ͂̆͋̈ͥ̈̏ͤ̀͘͝͡ͅN̈̏̀̽̀҉̶̴҉͓̘̞̺Ô̷̧̡͇̥̼͍ͧ͗̓ͭ̂͢W̛̖̙̠̟̜̭̫̗̘̿̔̄͐͑͐̒̅̅ͫͥ̈́̄̂̇́Ņ͕̹̳̠̦͖̟͖͇̗̟͉̘̈́̔̏̍ͬ͌͒ͮ̍ͣ̍͊ͣ̀ͦ̅̍͟͠ ̢̧̺̺̪̮͎͉͈̯͕̝̻͎̞̱͕̯̇͛̀̓̽̒̾́̕͝ͅṲ͙̠͈͍͇̞̲͙̯̥̝̰͈̦͔̰ͤ̋ͩ̉͑͆̔ͩ̎͆̾̓̄͘͜N̛̗̪̬̣̬̲̟̳̘̭ͪ̔ͭ͒͐͐͂ͣ̚͟Ḱ̡͈͇͕̫̠͈̺̙̱̹̳̞̜̣͎̬ͣ̓ͨͪ̌̌̽͛ͩ͋ͦ͗̑̾ͣͯN̷̳̰͔̦̯͎̟̊͒̔̇̌̏͠Ơ̜̜̜͇̻̙̝ͤͩ̉ͯ̈̈ͮ̿ͬͨ̉̀̚͢͞W̴̴̫̜̘̬̩̣̰̿ͥ̈̋̾ͦ̓͟͠ͅN͖̱̜̯͔̭̱̙͛̎͐̈̂̌̇̍͑ͤͣ̌̆̚̕͘ ̜̤̼͈̬̜̔̉ͩ̇ͭ̾͗͆͆̓̔̿̒ͯ̃̋ͧ́͘͜͡Ư̛͙̘̣̖̱̗͓̹̎ͥ̉̈́ͯ̆ͭ͐͐̊̆̂̈́ͨ̔͘͜N̵̮̯͙̱̲̺̖͓̫͒ͯ̈ͥ̃ͤ͊́̒̑̓̆̃͑̈͢͝K̻̙̠͙̝̰̭͓̏ͮ͗ͦͩ̊͐̓̊ͤͧ̂͘̕N͖̻͇̱̩̖̲̮̹̮̙͕̼̯͕ͤ͌ͮ̔̔̋̈́̀̕͟O̬̮̖̯̫̮͉̰̱̽̍ͨͯ̈́̉ͧ̔́Ẅ́ͪ̓̆̽̒̾͑̊̽̈͝͏͞͏͚̺̹͈̖̫Ñ̼͇͖̮̻̳̓̅̿̍͊ͭ̓ͧ̐̂̓ͤ̑ͣ̈̿͢͟͝ ͚̜̟͇̲͎͚̹̤̹̲̟̘̌ͯ̂ͦ͆̂̋̋͋ͥ͜͜͝ͅͅU̺̠̜͉͔̞͉͈̙̖̯̣̬̙͓̼͂̍̄͆̔̌̽̀͟N̛͉̭͇͕͕̘̘̲̻̬̲̞̈́ͣͮ̍̕͢͟͠ͅͅK̮͈̱̙̩͔̝͚̦̤̟̹̈̔͒ͬ̃͡N̴̛̠̱͍̪͖̪͓̤̠͙̦͈̤̩̐̽ͫ̿̄͂ͥ̈ͭͭ̈́̽͌̔̔́̚͝͝ͅǑ̷̴̧͇͈͖̘̟̭̬̬̦̜̰̜̙̝̥̦̗͕ͫͣͧͭ̀ͨ̈ͦ̂̅͟͠ͅW̵̴͐ͨͭ̍̂̀̎̇ͣ̋ͣ̋̈́ͧͬ͏̶̳̜̖̲͖͢N̶̴͖̗̳̩̟̦͙͎̞̲̝͉̲͈͓̬̭͖͒͑̑̿̿̄͆ͧ͆̀̊͛̾́̚͠ ̮̙̮̫́̿́͜Ư̵̵̥̱͇̤̹̹̗̗͚̲͍͎͚̝̳͕̟̻̭͒̉͒͌͌̈́̂̀̈̍̇̎̓̃͗̑ͮ̀͜N͛͗ͪ̑̓̏̍̊̄ͦ̀͏̠̝̝̮̣̩̬̼̲͓̰̜̙̣̲̬K̷̡̼̦̠̤̲̖ͯ̂̌ͪ̇ͫ̚͟͝N̸̢̢͙͙̮͕̬̮͍͓̞ͮ͐ͦ͂̆̑̔͡O͂̏ͨ͊̐ͦ͛ͮ̔͟͠҉̹̺͖͉̥͞W̛͒͐̃͛̃ͮ҉̞̲̝͈͍̟̺̞̹̪̳͚̹͖̜̯Ņ̛͙̤̹̝̪̙̱ͩͬ͐͆̽͌ͩ͆̓̈́̀͘ͅͅ ̜̯̰̱̦̖̯͕̰͍͎̩͚̳̯̻͇͉̔̅̃͒ͣ͂́̄̃̓ͭͣ͂͝ͅÜ̶̸̡̡͚̦̤͇͈̠͇͓̠͖̥͇̬̰͙͕̩͓ͤ͛͗̋̓ͩ̎̿̈̇̉̉͐͡N̵̶̶̢̻̲͖͈̹̞̩̯̘̩̗̼͇̖̞̝̟ͨ͂̔ͯ͌̂ͥͯͦ̓̑̈̈́̄ͩ̾ͤ̚K̳̹̝̱̰̜͙̱̜͉̪̤̜̺̤͓͇̓ͮ̌̊̃̓̿͆̊ͣ̀̀̀͟͞N̵̡͕̪̜̬̠̗͔̰̱̻̟̥͎̯̤̪͇̿͂̏̓ͪ͟͡͡Ó̴̧͙̳̩͈̞͈͖̹̱͓̫ͣ͊ͫ̄ͣ̿̉͆̋͛̓̔͛̈ͣ̉W͇͔̳̫̹̙̦̼̟̞̞̭͓̿̍͋̈́̈́ͫ̎͛̌̎ͥͪ̈͡ͅN͂͐ͧ̇͑̃̇ͤ͏̴̨̡̱̲̜̭͜ ̾̌͒͋ͫ̃ͭ̒̀͂҉̛̥͇̲U̶͈̳͔͉̭̣̝͈͈͈͕̙͎̭̺̣͉͒ͦ̉̔͐̚͟ͅŅ̈́͐ͨ͗ͩ҉̢̟͖̬̝̤̙̤̙͈̗͈̻̕K̛͉̳̲̖̲͖̘̠͖̬͔̥̻̟͎̱͈̥͖͛ͯͧ̾ͧ̿ͣ̍̾̌̂̽̕N̷̛͑̃̿ͧ͐ͨ͗̈̊́͋͆̿͗̒͜҉̜̖̣̱̲̹̻̯͡ͅO̧ͭ̂̈́ͩ́̌ͫ̅́ͫ҉̧͓̻̼̘̬͎̱͖̤̹͉̣̺͚̣͟͡W̸̩̝̞̙̻̻̟̻͇͙͇̻̙̻̺ͫͦ͊̄͐̓͡͝N̴̢̛̼̣͇̭̲̟̳ͮ̑͗̏ͧ̾ͮ̂̃͘͡ ̵̴̼̭͕̮̪̬̞̹̠͈̓ͩͦͩͤ͋ͥ̐̌̓̔ͨͯ̅ͨ͆̀͒́͡Ư̵̢͓͉̹̹̯̰̩͉̟̳̠͕̍̎̊͐̋ͪ̓̂̀̄̇̉̒̋̉ͫ̄ͦ̀͡N̡̨̛̩̦͎̯̼̭̦̖̺̟͖̮ͥ͒̍̏͟͝Kͦ̊͗ͤ̔́̊ͦ̒́ͤ̏̀̕͏̸̹̗͔̥̭͕͙̭̺̝͢͡N̛̰͚̱̗͈͎̙͎̗̣̲̯̘͓͙͉̫͓̟ͭ̆͐ͬ̔̔͊̑̎̈́̃Ọ̶̵̢̳̪̻̯͕͔͇̞̽̀̉̇̓̄̀̈́̏̾͌̆͢͞ͅͅW̸̧͇̤͇̲̖̩̠͎̟͓̠̪͈̮̣̽́͌ͭͩ̔̈́ͫ͗̏̿̊̄̓N̶̛̮̫̞͙̲͎̺̺̻̰̹̞͓̹̝̼̊ͭ̓̂͌ͩ̒̽̍̌͂͑̚͜͢͠ͅ ̡̡͚͚̖̩̼͖͈̠͎̞̭̀ͪ̓̽̿̐̾ͪ̓̒̇͋̏͞ͅͅU̾͂ͦ͌̾̿͑̃ͥ́̍̓͆͛̒̓̋͜͏̧͜҉͔̭͙̫̥̫̻̳̟̱̰͓̖̠̮̪̯̲̟N̶̴̗̟̭͔ͪͫ̔͊̂̿ͅK̶̸̭̯̠̗̙̰͙̲̠̣͖̰̫͔͎̜̱̞̈́̆̿ͧ̃ͨ̏͐ͧ͐̎̅ͯ͒͟͠N̢̮̼̻̗͓̞̠̪̒̍̓̒ͣ͛ͯ̔̓̍̉͂̕Ŏ̵̅̍̾̈́̄̚͟͏͖͎̹̪̤̲͖͕W̷̳̙̥͙̩̥ͮ̃ͣ̈́̽͊ͤ͒̇͂̂͐̌͌͋̀͜͞N̍ͩ̈́̿͛́͐҉̬͈͙̮̠͕̱̬͎̞̬̳ͅ ̏̾ͩ́ͦ͐͑̾̏ͫͦ͋͡͏҉͏̯̲̳̬̞̜̩̜͉̜̜̰̺̯̱͈Ũ̶̘̖͉̺̼̮̼̳̦̞̦̦͈͓ͩ̈́ͩͬ̀̀́ͤͥ̽̌̌̔̅͋̃̈́͜͟͞ͅŅ̴̠͔ͯ̃ͨ̓̎̾̌ͥ̏̐̋̈ͥͅK̢̛̂̈́ͫͭ́ͥ̂̈́͛͊͋͊̍ͮͯ͡҉̳̼̲̺͈͞N̸̸̡̨̧̺̼̫̻͙͙̞̻̼̳̳̙̹͓̦̖͍̳ͨ̍̊̈̅̓͌͗͑̈͋ͪͪͮ̌̀ͅƠ̶̙̘͉͍̥̰̯͉̗̙͉̠̹̬͐ͫ͑̓͌̑̄̇̾̊̈ͮͮ͂W̰̩͔̪͈̝̩̞̠͈̟̦̝̩̘̉̀ͪͥ͑̀̇ͩ͂̿͐̚̚̕͞N͉̯̙̮̻̠̰͙̘̟̯̭̲̱̹̙̊̋̊̔̐ͭͥͬ͞ ͉̻̦͉̘͈̬̤̖̫̜͕̱̖͖͕͙̰̆ͫͣ͘͜Ù̡̧͉̺͉̹͎̻̠̹̙͓͎̝̱͍͔̞̋͌̅ͮ̆͛̀̕N̵̟͙̮͍̬̮̎́ͦ͑̏͊̂̓̄ͩͯ͑̇̇̒̑̒̍͞K͉̜̦̝͙͈̞̯̫͂̈́̑͆ͦ̉̀̾ͦ͒̎͘̕̕͟͝N̵̛̬̦͚̮̗͖̙͍͉̭̯̈̀ͮ͊̑̊̚̚͟Ǫ̴̻̘͔̘̤͔̪̯̱̹̝̦̺ͯͭ̋͂͋ͪͥͧͫ́͡ͅẂ̷̪͇̯̖̩̤͍̜͚̙̼̙̹̘ͯ̇ͤ̍ͣ͂ͭ͂̎ͣ̄ͮ̎ͯ͘Ǹ̶̡̡̘̣͖̜̺̠̗̭̳̱ͣ̌̉̾͊ͬ͆ͭ̋ͯ͋͑̈ͯͦ͌̓̌̕͝ ̷̴̶̯͙̺͍̬̬͖͔ͩͣ̐̕U̽̃̄̐ͫ̔͌̋͛̾̎̓̾̾̊͏̯̹͈̜͕̻̩͚̞̻̰͔͎͙̤̻N͈̫͈͖͇̗̺͍̬̥̦̖̊̏͂̅ͤ̈́͆ͣ͆ͣ̾̏̈́̍̾̚̚̚͢͜K̶̨̺̪̰̹̠͔̳͔̤̳̥̤̼̰̟͖̤͆̇̎̓̂̈́̽̈́͒̇͞N̴̴̸̨̳̭͍̬͙͉͔͔̮̗͎̦̼͂͐ͥͩ͒͗ͣ͋ͨ̑̓͐ͤ̇ͬ̽̊̒͗O̧̢̡̦̯̹͇̻͇̲͍̗̙̙̙̎ͦͤ̇ͮͥ̋̎̓̍ͧ̆͢͞W̶̢̯͇̯͍̻ͨ̋ͯ̈́̆̕͘͡N̡̧̫͎̯͉̱̟͎̬͍̪̰̠͉͔̜̯̫̋ͪ̄ͥͤͪ͒̔͂͢͠ ̧̢̰̲̤̹͈̬̻̐̐ͨͫͧ͊̒̓̆͛͑̓̓̓Ụ̖̯͖̎ͧͪ͌̅̆ͪͯͯ͐͛̎͌͜͢͠N͒́̔̚͝͏҉̡̙̲͓̪̺̩͉̞K̶̘̝̗̠̝̤̖̳̫͈̼͔̭̹̯̳͋̒̊̄͋ͦ̀͆̓̓̽ͭ̈̋̽̂ͭͤ͡N̴̶̨̥̼͇̖̙̻̝̭̝͕̬̬͔͑ͦͨ̏͂̿ͣ́̚ͅO͑ͧ̎̇̚҉̴̜̬͉͍̣͈̫͎͓̮͈͎̣́́́W̸̪̰͍̣̺͇͔̮͈̥̤͉̠͊̀͆͂ͨͣ͜͞N̵͕̼̼͉̫̗̣̼̪̞̳͂͂ͯ̉ͨ̆ͯ̍̐̆́̅ͪ͂̏͟͟͠͡ ̧͍̙̰̰͓͖͚̱̈͛̄̉ͨ̒̀͘Ư̵̧̙̗̟̘̘̲̻͙̱̘͔̬̿ͣ̂̒ͥ̂͐ͨͤ͗̚͞N̢̆ͯ̋͑̾̄͗ͯ̉̓҉҉̴̴̱͎̗̮͈Ķ̇̉̐̊̓̈̄̾̌͂ͦ̅̌̚҉̸̴̛̮͇̺̖̭͓N͗ͨͧ̐҉̴̛̰̙̗̦̟͠O̭͇̟̺̪̮̣̘̜̰̖̖̹ͣͨͦ̑̾ͯ͊ͥ̔ͥͣ̈́͢͞W̢̗͓͓̳͚̝̖͈̫̦͙̘̝̺͒̈ͣͪͬ̈́̏ͦ̐ͣ̌͊̔̔ͫ̔ͮ̀͘͢͞ͅN̛͌̅̑̃͗ͣ͂͒ͭ̀ͩ̂̀̂̇̏̃̀̚͏͎͎̪̗̫͓̜̠͚̻͟ͅͅ ͯ̇ͣͭ͒ͤ͞͏͇͓̞͉̳̭̲̺͉̺͘͢Ų̸̨̈́̂͂̋͌҉̜̞̱̟̺̳̝̥̭̠N̈́̅̍͑̎̓͒̓̈̓̒̈́́͏̗̺̥̥͚̼̳͔̥̘̗̭̰̥͟K̶̰̪̼̩̲̟̘͎͚̫̤͉̘͚̆͂̅̐ͦ̉̒͐͒̏̀ͤ́͠Ṋ̮͍̳̙̠̻̘͍̹̖̖ͯ̉͐̈́̃͛̒͑ͥ̀͝ͅͅO̶̢̧̯̣͉̖̺̯̗͗ͨ͆ͪ̑́͑͋̀̒̃ͭ́̏̅̇̎͝W̗͔̘̜͎͖̜̦̱̍͛ͫͮ̃͒ͤͩͥͧ͛ͣ͢͞N͂̐ͧͭ͊҉̵̢̪̩̰͈̟̲͚̭͎̫̣ ̸̛͑̌ͨͤͥ̒̉ͬͮ͌ͫ͌̐ͣ̓ͥͯ̄͏̭̪̥͈̞͕̱̪̲̫̖͎̬͖̪͈̮̥̮͢Ư̧̘͖̭̲̞̹̼̻̍ͧ̎ͨ͌͌̔ͮ̐̽̀́͘N̑̅͛̒̒ͩ̎̿̋̄̅̉ͦ̇̉̓̉̚͝͏̸̨̩̺̗̰̜̤͚K̴̢̝͇̭͙̞̫̱̘̺͖̲̦̥͇̪̱̹ͫͦͩͯ͜N̴̶̙͔̩̟͕̱̮̂ͥ̔̒̂ͬͮͣ͐̀̈̚͟Ö̵̤̱͔̯̥͎̯́͂͋̇̿͒̀̒̍̏ͤ̾ͣ́͜͞W̶̧͓̬̪͍̪͙̭͚̥̦̟̥͚̞͎͕ͧ͗̿͐̈ͮ̅̃̈̂̏̃ͧ͒ͨ͠ͅN̆ͨ̆ͮͮͭ̎̎ͪ͌ͧ͆ͦ҉̛̱̻͍͇͉ͅ ̶̨̥̮̬̳̱̺̣͇̙͙͈̝̘͊͛ͩͧ̆̈ͮ̏̓ͦͨ̐̒͊́̚͟ͅU̧͓̩̭̮̙̽̀̿ͪͮͩͨ̈ͨ̏̍̒̈̔ͪͯͥ̃͊͢N̷̡̨̡͖̩̲̦̞̯̙̼͙̺ͩ͆̐ͧ̀K̶̷̷̢̺̰͖̱̰͚̞͓͉̤̗̤͈̈́̐̉̆̾ͫ̌͞N̟̯͓͔͎̾ͦ̊̓̔̈́ͧ̍̐̉͜͟Ơ̸̶̳͍̹̩͒͆̎͒͐̄̈́͌ͨ̚͢W̨ͯ͌͗ͪ̽͒ͨ̾ͧ͋̈́̏̀҉̜̠̱̗͘͠N̛̯̭͎̫͔̜̺͕͖̹̥̞͖̻̯̞̤͗̌ͥ̓ͬ̀̀́͜ ̵̶̯̯̟͓̝̬͓͍͇͉̅̍̈̂ͨͯͩͦ̎ͫ̂ͬ͋͊ͮ́U̅ͦ͊͋̑̀ͣͯ̇ͯ͒͂͛ͩ̓̒ͭͪ͒҉̷̷̥̦̗̀͠ͅN̸ͦ̅͊ͥ́͗ͤͩ͏̙̝̫̮̙̥̯̲͇̱̝͡K̡̓ͭ̔͗ͫͬͩ͡҉̼̰̻͓͎̳̻̬N̠̟̳̙̯͙͔̞̗̜̲̹̱̤ͮ̉ͩͩ̑͞͝͝ͅO̢̘̗̙̺͋͌ͬͬ̽ͮ̒ͯ̃͊̐͗ͩ̊͑ͭͣ̕ͅẈ̶̢̡͍̖̝̬̼̮ͣ̑̓̈́̑̎͌́̚Ṅͯ̂ͬ̽͊̆ͯ̌̔ͪͫ̀̚̕͞͏̸̯̠͓̤̤̪̞̖ ͖̣͓͉ͣ̑͑̋͒̀͜͠Ú̷̧̜͎͕̖̱͈̖̮͖̠̒̐͆̽͛̐ͮͨͭͭͧ̂ͯͯͮ͜N̷̯̱̭̠̻̟̱͕͔̦̥̳͛́̂̓͋ͤ͋̀͜͢͠K̩̯̤̺̣͇̳̝͍̜̗͙̰͕ͦ͆̔̋͊̇ͨ̃̽ͫ̂ͪ́͟ͅͅN̨̻̤̟̲̻͖̦͎̺͕̫̜̮͓̊̐̓͛̑ͮͦͮͮ̌̽̈̋̇͂̓̚O̢̢̹̼͇̥͈͓͙̣̖͉̩͚͙̻̺̘͑̃ͭ̓ͨ̔ͤͧ̈͜W̢͈̻͓̗̩͔̜̜̯̹̻̼͖͈̞͚̑ͭ͒ͪͦ́̌͊̏ͦͫͯ͘͘͢͠ͅN͙̦͖̬̲̱͇̒̀͋́ͅ ̴̢̛̘̩͖̹̗̲̤̰̖͖͈̪͚̑ͨͤ̾ͧ͒͒ͬ͗͊̎ͬ̃̓͛̅̚Ŭ̇ͩ̅̌̈́̿͊̌ͯ̽̿̂̑̽́͏̖̰̰͇͕͔͕͚̮͚̗̙͍́N̷͈̦̺̦̘̠̲̺̱̺̯͉̜̪͖̤͈̔̇͒̐̎̿ͭͪ͊̂̏́̚̚K̢̙̞̜̥̘̯̞͎̖̟̅̽̈́͒ͮ̔̈́N̛̤̩̗̲̬̟̠̲̣̠̟͓̯͋͛̋́͂́͠O̡͚̗̳̥̮̜̮̺̹̗̱̮̦̲̠̘̝͍͋̌̀ͯ͠ͅW̷͖̮̣̗̩̏̊̌̒̾͌̎̌ͭ̚̚͜͝N̵̼̜͖̝̫͙̥̳̦̦̩̉̈́ͭ̈̎̉̉ͯ̌̀͟ ̵̩̙͓̯͋ͣͯͯ̽̈́͐̀͒̑̍̎ͬ͋ͧ͌̑ͣ́̚͝Ų̠͍̪̗̖͕̘̟͖͇͖͉̱̱̀̂̿̆̒̅ͥ͞ͅͅN̄͋̽̇ͣ̅ͭ͋͒͌̑̍̑ͬ͆ͮͧͬͬ҉̛̜̯͕̯̮̫K̶̡͍͉̙͇̬̯̯͉͔̮̰͎̝̅̽̒͑̒ͫ̉͋̑̆͛̑͢͠͠ͅN̻̟͖̹̠̭͖̺̩̈́͑͆̍ͤ̀ͣͥ̏ͧͬ͆ͤ̂͟͞ͅỌ̴̼̣̬͚̳̬̫̹͉̺̝͙͍͉͂̾̔ͦ͊̚̕͞W̴̸̸̷͙͉̣̝̦̲̪̹̣͓̠̬͓̬̉̋̓͒ͥ̔̈̐̎̋͊͞Ň̢̗̙̱̹̖̋͗̂ͭͫͣ͗́͒̆̈́ ̵̸̤̹̝̠̼̃̂̉͒̅U̝͓̝̼̭ͯ͛̅ͦ̓͢͢͡N̶̯̬̫̺͚̓̒̓̄̈͋̏̈́͜͡ͅK̷̨̠̘̭͈̠̞͔̩͙͖̼̏͊̒ͫ̇̉̅̃̑ͭͥ̏̈́̿̃͋̄ͤ͗̀ͅN͓̯͙̺͈͚͇̩̪ͫ̑̒̈́̂ͫͩͣ̃̇́͊ͮͩ̒͐͂̚͟͡͡ͅƠ̙̩͍̙̪̠͚̟͍͉͆͒̈́͒ͯ̿̽͂̓́̾̀̕W̵̢͓͉̯̰̻̥̄̔͑̽ͨ̌̀ͯͯ͂͐ͤ̂̇ͯ͢͡͠N̶̷̡̨͇̥͔̹͍̜͖̳̺̫̤̙̙̱͈̘͒̆̃̔̊͒̈́͂̒̏̚͜ͅͅ ̴̷̫͍̠͖̮̜͍͈̥̹̻͙͋̈ͮͧ̎ͯͮ̄ͭ́̚͜Ų̖̟͍̫͙̘̮͍͈̘̯͍̟̹͈̣͔̳̹̌̎͊͒ͯ̚̚Ń̴̛̬̝̼͕͖͕͖̜͖̩̋͌͋̆ͫͩ̏̍̆̍̔̈͂̓ͨ͛̓͠K̍̒̀ͮ̍̒ͤ̆̑̇̚͡҉̳̟̞̹̖͔̹̞̣̟͍̣͝ͅN̾̈̅̚͏̢̥̱͉̦̭̫̺͝Ò̵̢ͫ̽̇ͧͩͨ͒͊ͥ̎̈́̇͝҉͙̱̣͇̝̟͕̦̳̳̜̖W̶̧̺̙̰̟͕̘̜ͯͥ̆͆̔͛̇̌ͥ͂̉́ͧ͞N̤̤͙͓̩̬̮̖̈ͥ͛͗͘͟ ̶̢ͤ̐̌̄̓͂͒͌̒ͥ̐̈́̚҉̰̱̮̙͉̝̪̬͕̜̰̥̣̫͈̞U̯̙̫̰̻̭̳̬̖̣̥̦ͮͨ̔̓ͫ̿̕͡ͅṈ̷̖̲̩̮̠̟̰̼͎̤̩̤̗̅ͪ͑̒̓̊̚͟K̢̛̝̬̪̣͍̭̇́ͭ͒̑̽̅ͥ̐̐̀ͣͥ̌ͩ͐ͮͅͅN̸͂̋͗̿̉ͤ͐̓͐̏̔͗͂̾͋̽̅͝͏̶̩͍͙̖̤̞͚̻̰̪̤̺͔̜͉͓̺Ơ̒̓̓ͥ̇͢͠͞҉̰͎̤̘̳͈͎Ẅ̷̴̨̼̙͎͇͈̙̤̬̜͚̲͚͚̠̼̆̓͒́̊͗̒̔̂̿͝N̴̨̥̘͈͚̳͇̘̲̼̑͆̿ͣ̇̐ͪ̌ͤ͗ͫ̍͜ ̸̴̬̳̣͍̭̲̖͇̟̩̝̹̟̫̀͛̓̀͛̿͒̇̄ͥ͐̆̊ͤͪ̌ͤ̐͐͞ͅṶ̴̵̡̮̦̼͕͙̭̝̘̥̙̞̜͕̙͉̦̙͍ͮ͆̒̋͗̌ͯ͌͆̓̉̽Ņ͕̗͓̫͎̳̜̬̜̘̘̰̱̟̯̬̻͌̈̀̌̓̂͑̈́͒͌̒́̕͟͜ͅK̴̛̝̙̬̘̹̼̗͚͉̖̙̖̠͓̩͚͚͎ͬ̂̽̍͒̏̓ͧ̊̓ͮ̈́ͭͫ̏͑ͦ̀́̚N̵̨̩͈͇͚͕̘̜͖̩̠̦̬̖͍̭̫͖̖̲̆ͤͧͭ̂͂̓̂͑̃̑̎͆̀̕͟Ọ̶̷̧̣̹̟͎͕̖̜̗̞̆ͪ͛̓̿̚W̷͈̗̜̞̮̮͍͚͓͓̲̞̬̹͇̔͐ͦ̾̏̎͊ͤ̂̔ͥ̇ͯͨ̃̾̒́͝N̴͕̲͚͙̦̥̱͖͈̘̹̠ͭ̓͊͂̓ͧ̆̏͋̿̚͜͡͞͠ ̛͉̝͍̮͔̳̝͇͈̗͇̊́ͩ͆̈́̐̊̒ͭ̾̾̋ͦ̊̚͞Ṵ̺̠̜͚̓͗̉͌ͥ̀̇̑̈́̎͋̓͆̇ͦ̄͘͘ͅN̷̡̝̖̟̱̲͙̮͎̺̺̲̱̼̈́ͦ̈́̆̒͛ͬ̌̔ͯ̾͊ͨ̏͊͋͢͝͠K̸̶̢͒ͪ͛̎̾̋̔̈́ͤ̒̽҉̣͍̖̱̩͎̳̘̪̣̘̼̯̣̥͕̠̯N̢̧̟̤͖̫̤͈ͪͨ͊̈́͢Ȯ̷̙̻̥̻̱̬̥̗͔̲̜͉ͧͪ̀ͧͩ̎̍ͦ́͘͜ͅW̵̝͉̬̟̹̠̥͎̺͍͕̫̭̼̯ͩ̑͛̒͘N̐ͬ̑̅̇̅̀͏̢̛̣̗̖̥͔͠ͅ ̴͓̠̱̫̯̞̳̠͈̣̖̻̳ͮ̒̓ͪ͌̌͑͘͘͞Ų̷̳̜͍̪̙̭̣̈́͗̿̐ͥ͌͑̏̀̓̓͌͒͗̃̏̄̚̕͜N̸̢̢̤͔̼̠̣̘̰̎̍ͨ̌̾̑͛ͬ͂̌͋͋͛̂ͬ̐̿̃K̨̲͍̟̹̯̪̼̝̝̠̦͖̬̼̭̬͈̤̓ͣ͐ͤ̓͂͋ͤ͡N̴̸͚̱̠̠̩͔̭̲̹̜̼ͧ̎͐̇̉͐̊́͐̋̊ͪ͘Ơ̵̶̧̫͕̬̲̟̎ͭͬ̾ͤͬ̍͛̌̚͞W̷̴̍ͩͪ̈̐̐̔͢͟͏̹͔̘̞̯̫͎̞͚͍̪̱͙ͅN̢͖͔̺̝̫̩͈̗͖ͨͨ̓̇ͅ ̢̡͕̣̞̭͓̜͔͔̮͚̓̅̇ͦ̆͛̑ͬͮ́͡Ư͔͔͉̺͍̘͔̠͕̮̂̄͌̆́͒̂̚͢N̆͒̔̈́ͭ͛͆͑̊͢҉̢̛̪̩̮̠͖̻̟̫̘̠̟́ͅK̡̯̗̥̙͈͇̮͖̱͂͑̓͒̑̍̉ͦ̎̔͒̅̓ͮ́͢͜ͅN̵̲̜̫̹͈͕̜͙̖̍͗̌̀ͯͩ̔ͨ̏͞O̶̦̗͉̹̜̣͈ͮ̾͋ͮ̿̾̀̚W̸̛̤͔̞̦̣͍͉̖͈͂͑̓̑̉ͭ͆̊͆ͫ̍͢͝͞N̬͈͈̫̪̩̽̂́̍͐̾͂ͩ̆ͦ̍ͧ͞ ̵̨̢̠̪̺͚̏ͨ̆̐͟͡Ṳ̸̸̧̦͕͍͙̜̱̯̠̟͓̭̳̥̠̯̌̎ͩ͛ͪ͐̊̽ͮ̌͐̋̎͐͘͠ͅN̛̥̥̝͚͉̤͎͕̔ͨͪ̆͛̾ͥ́͆ͤ͆͟K̖̯̠͍̠͍͚̠͔ͭ̈́̊ͦ̅̓̿ͬ̄̀͠N̸̐̀̑ͪͬ͆̾̄̇̉̅̂̈́͗̋ͬ̚͜҉̧̠͍̩̫̪̝̟̜̰̫̳̲̫͕͘O̴̷̝̫͇̗͓̩͖̟̦ͩ͂̒̓̀ͯ͊́͡ͅͅͅW͂̋̈́͆ͧ̑ͣ͗ͥ̔ͤ̂̑͋̐͡҉͇͙̮̣̻͖̦̠̫̗͓̟̥N̾͒͛̎̈̊͐̕҉͚̼̙̙̱͖̯̰̝̘̭͔̖̖̪͔ ͩͧ̓ͬ̐ͯ̈̆͊̓͂ͬͧ͐̍̿̑̑ͪ͏͚͖̙̤̗͖̻̰̱͇̫͕̟͕͓̦̹͓̫͘͢͡Ū̡̬̘̘̜̟̖̗̝̗̮̦̣̀ͧ̒͛̈ͮͦͭͧͫ͌ͮ̚͘̕͢N͌̈́͋ͯ̇ͦ̾̈̎ͫ̃͏̬͚̘̲͓Ķ̳̳̠̺̗̖̎̓ͪͩͪ̇̏̽̾ͧ̂̈̆͑͌ͧ̑́Ǹ̩̩͖͔̩̺̱̪̖̰̮̙̜̰̦͈ͥ̌̇̊ͨ̉̑͋ͤ́͟Õ̹͔̤̣̱̭͔̩̫̗͕ͫ͛̓̂̂̌͂ͥ̄ͩ̌ͧ̐́͢W̢̭̳̞̤͛͗͛̃̆̄ͫ̅ͦN̵̢̝͔̫͇͓͈̪͖͇̫͈̝̅ͬͣͫͣ̏̿̌ͫ̏̈́͊̃͋ͤ͊̑͞ͅͅ ̴̅̊̐̃͂̔̈́͆̈́͐͛ͤ̀҉͓̗̼͈͈̣̺͎̩̣͓̺̻̥̮̰͕͍͘U̢̨̖̦̣̫͚̟ͮ̐̽̇̎ͧ͑̌̋ͩ̀̐ͤ͌̿̓͑ͩ͢N̾ͪͤ͑͏̙̰̫͕̳̖̭͓̱̫̪̦̹̟̥̹͠͞K̴̴̨̝̫̙̥̫̲̺͙̻͉̝͈̮̈́ͬ̔̽̉̀̅ͫ̽̎̀ͮͬ̃̂ͤ̚N̵̛̲͚͈͖̟̱̥̯̣̟̟̟͚̠̰̩ͪ̈́̌̃̂ͬͮ̄͗̋͌̌͒̌̒̅ͬ̾́O̶͖̠̼͍̣̟̝̞̙̹̞̜͓̦̺ͧ̊͐͒ͭͪͦ͋̓ͯͩ͛͐̌͌ͅW̧̛̙͉͙̙͕͖̝̼̩̦̤͇̻̘̪͛̆ͮͧ̀͞N͋͌̀ͤ͊͆̀҉̛̪͍̰̩̭̩̦̱̭̭͓̥̻̯̕ ͆͋ͩ̒̔̓͊ͩ̋̽̑̏͒̊͗͑̈̾͡҉̰͚̳̰͓̫̯͚̮̳̘̜̬͟͢U͖̠̞͚̗͕͕̲̪̦̹̦͉̟̪͍̝͊̋̇̐ͣ̄̋̿̀͞͝N̽͌ͭͮ̓͛ͪ̋ͯ̈̓̊̂̑ͤͮ̎ͯ͢҉͉͕͔̜͚̥͟ͅK͚̩̫͓̺̠̋̑̋̂̿̒̽ͫ̆̔̒̓͊ͥͣ̄̈́͑͜͞͡ͅͅN̨̘̙͙̩̣͓̝̥̣̗ͫͣ̓ͦ̐̈̕ͅO̧̧̡̗̯̯͓͕̠̰͓͇̘̘̰̓̌ͧ̉ͫ̀̽͊̇͌̍́͝W̴̴͍͎̹̦͍̩̩͍͍͇̝̹̰͎̖̑̾ͯ͊̿̉͂̓͒̾̽̀͞N̈͆ͣ̾̓͛͛̚҉̸̢̗̺̘̲̥̩͔̮̘͍͠͞ ̢͔̩̪͙͎̬̩̟̭̻̮͇̳̗͓ͬͫ͑ͫ͊͆̓̾ͥ̈́̄ͮͧ̚͞Ù̷̢̧̟͓̰̱̳͈̺͕̖͚̯̝̻̘̙̺͉ͨͤ̄̏͗͌͟͡N̡͔̯̩̹͎̭ͫͩͮͧͫ̽́̕K̛̂̉͐ͮ̓ͫͧ͛͗̽̇̽͆̚͜͏̷̧̱̖̺̬̼͉̜N̸̛̘̥̩̰̤̟̫ͨ͊̓͆ͥͣ̄ͥ̌͗́̑ͭ̿͂̄͗̿̀͠Ǒ̵̝͉̙̳͎̲͇̤͇̉ͯͪ̂̓͟͝W̢͕͖̣̼̩̰̻͍͚̘͙̖͕̞ͩͬͬ̇̑̂̀͢ͅN̴̻̦̙̦̻͚̫̫̯̟ͮ͐͆͆͋̉̃̋ͩͬ̓͡͠ ̄̊̃͌̂ͪ̾ͬͤͮ̽̆̏҉̸̦͚̙̣͢͝U̷̷̐́̋͂ͫ͛̉̅̀ͥ̎͗̉ͤ͑̑͏̶̭̠̜͖͖̠͎̮͕̺̤͈̻̫̼̰̤͙ͅŃ͈͓̳̮̖͓̼̑̒͂̅ͬ̄͗́͋ͪͪ̓̇ͩͭͦ̑̕͝ͅͅK̴̛̥̖͖̭͎̲̖͔̣̗̬̗̗͑ͨͬ͠͝N̘͖̮̰̦̱̙̬̮͔͍̯̭͍̔̊ͣ̄͐̍̐̓͆ͤͮ̓̔̿ͮͩ̿̌̀Ö́̐ͭͧ͋̎̈́̂̄̓ͥ̏̓ͮ̄̿͏҉͎̤̙̥̝̹͉̻̝̺̮͔̖̟̬̟͠W̧̾̌̊̇ͥ̆̾̈ͮͤ̿ͪ̆̀͗̉͗͋͏̹̠̪͖̝̟̺͈̣N̴̶̡͈̜̙̝̰͔͇̳̔͊ͧ̇͐ͩ͊̑͂̈́͐͛͋ͧ̃ͧͮ̀͒̀͜ ̨̄̑͋̓ͨ̌͋̒͘͟҉̴͔̻͇̮̫Ǔ̴̷̸͙͓̜͆̽͂̌̿̋̀͜ͅŅ̸͖̯͖̮̦̪̲̥̲̜̤̳̯̦̉ͧͤ̽̑̾̈́͋͟͟ͅͅK̷̸̢̡̤̤͇͕̬̑̾̄ͧ̓N̡̯͕̙̼̹͎͕͙̟ͦ̃̃͛̌ͯ̋̂̓ͦ̾ͦO̜̮̻̱͍͇̥̣̣͕̖̞͉͔̒͊̾̋͆̂̓ͭͭ̐͟͜Ŵ̢̜̖͉̞͖͔͓̺̻͎̆͂̋̀ͫ͠Ņ̶̛̦͚̣̖̘̱͚͚̤̖͗ͧ̌͌̓ͧͣ̾͗͋̎̈̂̚͝ ̀̉ͩͣͬ͝҉́҉̩̞͕̹̖͚̟͖͔̮̥̗̦͎Ṵ̶̧͓͕͙̮̓̓͂ͩ̈́̾ͬ̈́̃͑̉̈ͦ̐͑̈́͘͡Ņ̵̯̜͕̙̭̰̻͎̟͍͈͈̲ͣͪ̾ͮ̆ͤ̔ͬ̇́̑̔̌ͤͫͭK͐͆̐̐̎͑ͯ̀̅̓͆̑ͬͭ̀͢͝͏̟̟̺͇̺̦͎̪̩̻̹̫̮̖̠N̸̨͛̇̉ͬ̈̆͑̈́̀̈̂͡҉͍̲̲̬̹̬̤͙̻̰̞̣̯͓͘Ô̵̷̜͉̤̗͔̜͔͉̝̰̘̼͚̓ͤ̒͂̾̆̃ͪ̾̒͗̀́͡W̸̯̣͌̈́͑̄ͦ̍̽͂̇̽̔̂̒ͣͭͭ̚͡ͅN̵͉̜̥͚͖̟̺̝͙̒͗̉͘ ̶͆̈̅̉̾ͥͣ̚͏̡̠̞͉̙̮̜̪̱͚̺̕͘Uͧ̓̌̈͛̓͐͐̚҉҉͈̝͔̼̝͖͇̳͕̤̖̖̝̖̫ͅŅ̶̬̖͕̳̼̺̼͙̻̹̪͈͎̇̏͌̃̅́̾ͥ͘͝͠K̵̡̡͔̖͕̣̝̼̼̲̣͓̥̙͓̟̐͑̏ͦ̂̎̊ͬͫͣ̄͆ͮͩ͑̅ͧ̂̚͢ͅN̨͚̭̥̺͍̹̤͔̝̱ͬ͛͐́́̚͘͟Ơ̸̛̫̠͙͚̦͇͓͈ͨ̈́́ͩͭ̃̂ͧ̈́̈́ͨ͂͠Ẅ̨̰̫̺̦̭̪͍̖̝̺̟͎̜͙̤́̊̓͌ͪ̓̚͟N̡̽̑̆ͤ̄́̀͏̶̘̱̻̗̝͚̦̗͝ ̧̼̖̺̞̞̻̜͍͖͗ͣ̇͛͋̃͆̽̑̽̂ͭ͢͡͞U̷̸̵̘̞̳͖̫̞̩̪̭̯̫̣ͭͭ͂͑͋͢ͅṄ̶̟̝͓̤̝͇̰͙̞͖̳̩̩͚̃̏̏ͭͫ͌͒̅̏͒͌͠ͅK̨̆ͭͬͨ̓̍̽̋̑͊̑ͮ́̆ͪ͐̈҉̶͇̺͔̩͉̰̩̥͙̗̭̪͟N̷̞̥̹̥̞̬͆̊ͦͯ̊̈́͊ͧ̀́͡͞O̵̢̡͖̟͚̳̘̖̬̙͙͌̆͌̏ͩ͑W̶̶͖̬̖͍̦̮̪̗͇̦̓̉ͮ͂̉ͮ͗̐N̐ͬ͐ͯ̏͐ͮ̓̃͑ͪ̚͏͏̳̺̪̱̱̝̼̬ ̡̓̑ͮ̃̾̎͋̂̾͒͆ͥ̐̔̃̔ͧͮ͏͔͚̹̀̕Z̷̸̴̡̻̼͕̰ͬ̈̑̂̅ͮ͆̌̾̆͑͟A͗ͪ͊͊҉̵̷́͏͔͎͖̺̳̝̫̼̪̭͉̱̠̣̹̖̗̟̣L̛̟̺͈͓͔͓̺̰̹̘͖͍̻͇ͤͤ͐̈̅̓́ͧ̑ͤͭͪ̈́̊́ͮ̀ͫ̈́͢͝G̴͉͖̠͎͚͇̠̺̮̣͓̻̈́͋̊̄ͨ̏͢͟O̲̖̰͙͓͖͇̯̗̟͙͛ͤͤ͑͛ͥ̽̄̋̔ͬ̅ͮ͠͠ ̸̵̱̣̯̩̮͔̞̖͎̞̝ͧ̅̄ͫ̾͊̈̃̎ͣ̒̐͒̚ͅṴ̤̙̼̙̖̱̫̺̖̜̠̊ͥͫ̋ͭ̍͗͆̀͘Ṇ̨̛̛̛̫̰͔̪̏͌͛ͪͭͫͭ̊̚K̵̡̛̲̯͓̞̗̟͙̳͓͓̣͐̔͒ͪ̀̋̓͊̚N̶̾̋̒̈́̒ͮ̂͛̎̆́͛҉͏̧͖̠̫͈͙̦O̡̢̽̋̃ͧ̂͌̌̌̔̎̍ͭͣͣ҉͇̘̺̟̲̟̜̺̱̱̜͚̫̰͓͚W̨̱̤͖̭̲̗̫̲̖̳͓̜̟̭̫̘̻͖̯ͪ̈̾̐̾̕͟͡N͐ͩ̏̒ͨ̋̚͏̡̜̭͎͕̰͎̰̼͚̗̦̭̼͜ͅ ̢̦̼̮̭̞̫͇͔̥̳̰̗̳̌ͮ̍̇̊͆̈̈̇̐̉̊ͧ͜U̢ͤ͂ͧ̇̔͂̽̽ͩ͌̏̚͏̶̪̦̮̟̫̝̱͓N̶͉̮̭̬ͣ͒͒ͬ̌̉͒ͧ̐͠Ķ̲͙͎̻̦̹̟̤͓͎͒͒͌̐̓̓̋̃̐ͨ͑̓̋̐ͨ̈̇̚͟N̗̮̞̝̟͍̻̲̟̰ͧ͆̉̔̑̐͝͝ͅO̴̷͚̱̜̜̹͉̠͇͉͉ͮ̀̒̑̆͂͐ͣW̢̢̲͈̩̻̯͚̻̮͛̔͑̂̓͌̍̈́͆͆̽̿͋̉̾͑ͨ̔N̶̨̛̼̭͕̯̍ͩͯ͂͐̕̕ ̷̶̴̟̯̣͉͔͚̺̭̪͖͍̝͙̱̏͑̈͌̀̊ͧ̎̔̑ͯ̂̓̎ͥͬ͒̕͝U̸̦̳̠̮̤̲̲͇̐̿̌̑̈͢N̷͐ͫ͑͊̆̾̈͆̀͏̵̨͕͖̰̻͎̟K̊ͥͮ̓͑̿̿̑͟͏̛̝̤͈̭͔̘̮̀͡N̵̳̠͓̲̜͇̝̥̮̤̫̹̭͉̰̤̲͚̜̿̉̃ͪ͒̇̊͑̾̍͊͡O̍̏̐̓̑͒̓̀͋́͏͎̯̼W̷̸̠̣̼̥͎̭̹̼̗̞̏̂ͪͬ̑̏̆ͣ̾̄͌́ͨ͛̃͊̚̚N̨̘̟̠̮̖̦͈̪͈̯̭̲̰̪̲͖͂ͮ͗̐̄̽ͦ̂͌̈́ͫ̎͒ͮ̃̕͢ͅ ̔ͬ̔ͥ̿̌̾҉̨͔̜͓̩̣̣̫̯̖͍̮̥̱͍̹͠U̸̶̢͕͔̙̣̦͕ͯͩ̈́ͧͫ̉̀ͬ͛̄ͩͣ͆N̢̢̖͉̬͚͍̣͕͉̰̙͉͕̐̒ͭ̈͛̊́̃̒ͯ̀̃͋̿ͣ̔͘͜͝K̂ͦ̽̑͑͂ͨ͆ͧ́͆̅ͦͩ͏̴̰͙̭̯N͒̎ͭ̾̏̅ͫ̈͒̓̓̈ͩ͡͏͇͈͎͍̰̖̟̖̦O̵̖̖͖̟̭͚͓͕̠̠͚͔͛͒͂͌̽̇͒͡W͑̈́̔͊ͣ̔ͫͦͧ́́ͩ̍̒ͧ̚͜͏̜̭̮͉͎̖͎̱̖̠̭̜͜N̷̰͈̫͓̼̗̗̜̾̍̎̀ͧͤ͂͐̓̈́̔ͦͨ̈́́̔̓͟͠ ̠̯̥̰̼̝͎̝̳̯̞̺ͣͮ̅ͣͥ̇͗ͤ̀͐̆̀͗̓̔̊̕͟Ù̢̇͋̂̆̉̈͒̈̄̃͒̄̽̃̋ͭ̂́̀҉̱̲̭̺̦̤̭̠̹͍N̸ͧͪͫ̇̃͛͌̒͢͜͏̦͔͇͍̘̙̦̱̫̘͍K͍̺͍̪̹̹̥̹̬ͫ͌̒͂̏ͪ̒ͮ̊ͦ̌̀̀Ň̵̨̩̟̟̬̱͚̤̞̘̼̌ͯ̈͑̄͘͡Ǫ̸̶̳̟͕̩̠͖͇̫̤͉̱̩̬̖̙̙͔̻͙̍ͥ͂̈̆̆ͧͩ́̕Ẁ̵̶̪̼͍̜͋ͪͪ͆ͭ́̚N̛̦̭͖͖̹ͥ̏̐̔ͧ̕͡͠ ̡̱̳̭͚̲͎͎͚̖̬͔̪̐ͥ̾̉̒́ͯͮͬͪ̓͠ͅͅͅͅŲ̶̷̴̮̙̘͈̼͙͚̝̙̤͙̱̻͍̄͂ͯ͐̅̎̐͋̒ͦ̊͒̐̎͘N̉͗͑̿͛̅͛̃ͦͥ̈̅ͭ̏̚҉̵̩̹̲̲̹͖̪͔̲̖́K̡̛̟̪͍̳̬͍͖̠̺̺̫͓ͣͪ́̋ͣ̈́̍ͫ̂͆ͫ͘Ǹ̸̫͖̗́ͩ͗͆͂͝O̷̹̝̩̞͔͖̠̟̤͎͔͔̠͕̣͚̥͓̎͊ͥ̍̂͋̾̊͘͝W̷̵͖͔̯̫̪͓̠͚̟̠͎̦̗̹ͫ͆̆͊͋͝N̸̷̜̥͎̪̣̯̜̪͎̬̦̤̼̼̰̝͂̋ͨͫ̓̊ͪ͊̈̈́ͫ̃ͭͩ͌̀ ̷̡̩̰̬̣̳̯̰̟̹̭̻̮̟͕̮̯̬̙ͩ̃ͦͪ́ͬ̀Ų̷̝̲̮͔̱̳͙̗̲̞͍̦͚̺͓̫͙̻̒̿̈ͧ̈́̓̆́͝ͅN̸͐ͭ̆͆̀̿҉̵̬̖̭̀Ḵ̢̩̖̻͉̘̃̓ͧ̃̾̒͜͟ͅN̸̴̴͙͖̹̙̠͚̜̱̞̲͍͍͙͊̆̒ͭ̽ͤͨ́̃͊́̓͒ͣ́̚͘O̓̈́̓̅̏̔̈́̑ͬͪ͑̓ͧ̍͂̽̇͏̷̣̣̳̞͠͠Wͨ͆̓ͩͨ̓҉̸̴̹̥̖̝͘N̴̸̤͕̲̤̣̣̣̺̪̊ͭ̔̎́͡͡ͅͅ ̸ͬ̐̈͌ͫ́̌͑ͤ̉̓̃͋͗ͪͧ̈͏̡̘̝̺̺̪̩͍͙̼̟͈̖͡Ụ̡͔͇̮̙̥̦̲̮̏̆̉̐ͮ̉ͣ͘͝N̫̺̩̘̘̖̖̣̈́̒̂͋̆͋̂̀ͫͤͯ́͢͝͡K̷̭̞͔̰̙͚ͥ̂͂̉̉͋̉ͥͥ͞͞N̶̵̢̺̗̻͔̦̱͂̄̊͑ͪͩͯͨͫ̎̏ͮͮ̌ͥ͢͞Õ̸̶̢̨͇͈̥̙̝̪̠͈̼͙͔̬̭̥̗̲̏̐̒̏̓͟W̡͍̺̥͉͙̦̘̥̝̰̱͉̼͙̌ͧͥ̊ͦ̋̀̍̏͘͢͠ͅͅN̶͇̘̹̟̱͎̲̖̞͂ͥͯ́̐́͝ ̴̣͎̼̗̹̠̺͉̘̺̤̺̦̲͖̎̾̉͆̃͑͒̉̌͗̌ͪ͒́͞U̡͓͓͍͇͇̠̫̞̝̹̐̐ͦ̓ͫ͆ͬ̎͂̒ͣ̄̈́̅̾͂ͯ̅͑͠ͅN̡̬̝̲̗̬̩̘̖̯̜̰͓̺̲̣̙̹̘̈́̂̀̐ͦ̃̈ͤͥ͘K̅̋ͩ̂̿҉̵͍͚̲͈̗̩̪͕͈͉̯̱̣̱̞̥̟͝N̳̻̥͍̼̟̝̳͈̥̠̻͍̫͛̉̌͆ͮ͌ͤ̎͒̇ͯ̌̍̄̂̈ͦ̚͝ͅO̷̧̺̣͔͖̫̲̦̼̟̳̥͈͍͓̠̤͙̎͌͋̽̑̏̓̔ͅWͨͭ͑̓ͫͤ̋ͮ̄ͫ̇͠͏̸̡̡̹̜͈̻͔̗̞͕̟̞̲̫͚̪̩̰̣̣ͅN̢͇̻͔͔̣̺̘͈͙̩̱͚̟̼͑ͪ̆͆̉͒̆́ ͥ̏̒͆̈́̈̊́̐ͬ͗̈͂̚͏̷̡͕̗͕̭̣̞͕̕ͅU̡͑͆̃ͭ̒͒̓ͦͩ́͟҉͏͙̪̹͕̩̥̹͚̪̗̜͓̣̩̗͍ͅN̴̏̐͒̅̓̆̀͢͏̼̺̫̦͝Ķ̺̭̹̟̳̰̊̾̾ͯ͛̒̉̄̀́̀͢͝ͅͅN̢̛̘͉̲̬͓͚̗̝̤̬͎̲͓̮͔͓͓͒͋͑͊ͤ̔̈ͦ͂ͭ͑́̚ͅͅO̍ͫ̄ͧ͑̽̈́̈̏̽̇̒̉̈̌̾̚̚͏̨̛͚̯̣̘̪̳͎̫͕̙͟W͎̼͖̟̯̤͓̮͇͙͇̮̻͖̘̰͚̎͒͐͑̌̒̕̕̕N̷̢ͧ̄ͣͪ͒̆̽͆̿̊̾̚͏̢͚̜̗͇̳̭̱̙̯̹̮͈̙̼͝ ͌ͥ͆͋͆̏̓̅̆̐ͩ͛̔͠҉͏̖̘̙̪̭̕͞Ụ̢̪͎̜̞̪͇͔̈̾̔̂̑̄̅͜͡N̢̦͍̱̯͍̯̝̪͖͔͓̊̉̎̈͑͗͌ͅK̶̠̱̺̖͎̫̟̫͍͉̗͈͚͓͍̗̄ͥ̿͂̄͋̔͑̂̈͘ͅͅN̶̢̘̼͚̙ͣͬ̏ͧ̽ͥ͟ͅŎ̶̌̂͗ͩ͛ͭͨͦ͆ͬ̌̐͆̓̈́̚͏̣͖̟̺̲̺̜͍͎̱̰̕͡W̴͈̠̖̙͖͍͖̥̘̬̩̫͚̹̫̺͔͓͆̑ͩ̾ͣͧ͌̂̋̇ͤͥ́̆̇͛ͭ͒̓N̨̛̦̭̞͙̦̒̑̔̉ͬ̾̽ͩ́̉́͐̾̐̚͘̕ ̪̤̼̖̗̼̯̘͕̙̝̫͆̌͗̾̅̎̍̆̐ͦ̈̎̅̇̉̀̍̾̕͝ͅU̦̱̬͋̂̒ͨ͂ͭ͂̓̑̏̋̽͋̓ͪ͛͊ͥ͆̕͡ͅN͗̓̾̅͆̐̈́̑̇҉̧̦̫̪͎̪͕̝͡K̊ͧ́͐ͫ͐̿ͭ̋̂̓ͣ̃̈́͝͝҉͉̤̲̱̫͕̹͓N͑̂̆̋ͦ͏̴̞̺͉͕̱͙̦͖̝Ǫ̵̛͈̱͙̬̩̬̞̙̙̖̼̭͕̥͕ͭ̇ͥͤ̂̇́W̨̪̮͈͔͖̝̦̠̟͖̥̼̠̩͉̬̓̃͑̃͗̓ͭ͘͢͞N̨̧̢͈̬̬͇̰͖̗̫̟͇̯̗̙̘̺͙̖̓ͮ̋̏̒̅͂ͪͤ̇̂̈́ͅͅ ̸̦̣̬̻͖͛̑̔͑ͭ̃̓̋̆̔́ͯ̈́ͪ̓͢Ṳ̧̰͚̳̩̝̺̜̹̱̜͓͈̺̫̯̾̓ͥ͆ͭͯ͘͜ͅN̴̛̛̘̳̳͍͚̯̮͙̼̮̦̲̝ͫͤ́̓ͬ̎ͨ͊̂̌ͪͬ̃ͫͪͥ̂̂͑͘K̾ͭ̓ͮ͜҉̗̤̩̩͈̪̱͙̲̰̦͘͝N̸̢̫̘̮̥̯̖͔̟̹͓͙̘̪̞̪̻͖ͫ̃̒͛ͥ͝͝Ơ̙̮̜̝͎̏ͯͫ̇ͬͨͥͥ̐̀͆̅̉̕͞Ẇ̶̴̭̪̝̙͈̺̟̲̬̯̝̗̬̟̹͌ͣͦͩ̀̆͆̇ͣͤ́ͪ͒̿̚N̵ͪͯ̓̊ͣ̌̄͊́̒̈̏̽ͥͮ́́̚͏̛͈̳̠̩̭͕͈͇̘̫̪̬͉̫̰̜̞̳̦ ̸͎͚̯͎͕̝̑ͪ̈̾ͣͫ͠͠U͌̐̔̓́̾ͨ̾̽̆͂͊̄ͨ̀҉̴̪̲̗̥̭̜͉̘̰͉̫N̏͂̿̃̑ͨͯ̐͌̌ͯͥ̌͛͆҉̪͖̤̫̯̹̩̀K̩̟͎̥̰̱͈̦̪̺̖̪͒́̍ͩ̂̏̔̄̌ͪ͗̏͋ͣ̿͢͟N̡̓ͪͨ̒̋͑̏̀͏̶̠̗̞̜̜̬́O̶̴̢͔̝̞̟̲̟͓͉̫̮͉̬̲̱̫̱̮ͦͤ͐ͪ̏W̶̱̗̰̙̼͓̱̗̠̙̫̠̫͕̬̥̻ͧ̐̐̏̔̏͒̽̿̆̓̅ͬ̔͒̚N͈͎̤̲̙̥̺̣̗̤̦̣̰̙̠͚͙̔̇ͥ̓̉͗̉̽͑́̌͗͛ͦ́͜͢ ̷̨̱͓̬͔̮̰̣̝͕̠̝̝͓̻̞̻̂̔ͫ͒͋̊̈́̍̀Ǔ̴̷̝̼̥͍̮̻̱̳͚̭̐ͨͦͨ̚ͅN̸̶̡͔͈͓̻̆̈̎ͦ̈ͪ͋ͮ̈́́ͨ͐̅͆̔͢Ķ̸͉̖̻̹̩̠̳̩̯̔̌̃̄̐̀̽ͬ̽̉ͪ͘N̈́ͭͣ̃̈́̉̔̉̅̀̚͘͏̧̦̭̺̙̣̘̥̱͚̱̕O̴̫̖͖̙͔̰͉̊͌ͬͬͮ̈́̆́ͫ͑̈́͞͝W̫̙̖̪̤͎̥̗̰̜͆̽ͥ̆̀̌̆̀͛͛ͫ̀ͣ̈͠N̵͊̈̉ͣͫ̓ͦ̈̍̔̎̉͆̌̄ͯͯ̅ͣ҉̖̜̼̯̣̠͍͓̰̯͇͉̦̺̲̙ͅ ̌͗ͬ̈́̋ͫ̋̌͐̓͏̜̝̭̗̯͉̯ͅU͔̠̻̞͙̘͇̓̋̏͑̃ͫͣ͗ͣ̋̌ͫ̄̅͠N̸̬̦̯̯͍ͦͩͤ̈́̈ͣͪ̒ͬ̓̊́̚͘K̶̫̝̯̮͓̮̣̤̫̜̩̯̯͍̥̤̺̈́͋͆ͧ̕ͅͅN̢̳̻̞̳̦̙͎̭͍͕̜̫̦̠̮̂̇͑̆͒͛O̡̧ͣ̾̔͋̿̾͏̧̳̣̣͍̬͎̯͈͙͖̰̙̥̥̬W̻̼̼̘ͣ̌̔̊͗͛ͦ̔͟͝Ň̡̧̯̣̬͉̜̝̜̬̭̲̦̜̭̈̍ͦ̏́͞ ̨̰̙̝̪̬͓͖̣̭̖͉̼̰̯̯̞͒̾̔̑̽̌ͥͫͮ͑̀ͨ̄̎ͨ̌̔̉͘͟͝U̸̢͕̜̞̩̟̞̼̗̪ͪ͆͛̆ͣ̇̄ͮ͑̔̓̏̀̚N̶̵̼͎̥̳̳̹͕̹̆͊̀͆̀ͮ̋͋̂̓͗̽ͥͯ͛͋ͧ̈́̆͡K̛͕͙̼͙̗̥͓̩̳͕̮̜̗̣̮̙̯̝̯̒ͬͪ͑ͦ͛͊͂ͥ́̒̇͢͠N̂ͥͪͭ͏̧͕̹̲̖̼̩̜͍̯͔̦̻̲̼̼͎̥͢O̬͈̰͉̻̠͔̯̻͖̜͕̫͚͇̲͑͑ͤͧ̽̔͆ͫ̀͢͠W̧̧̻̣͖̮͈̙̼̲̘̤̥̩̗̞̦̝ͬ͗͐ͯ̅ͫͤ͘͢N͎̥̟͋͛̌̏ͭͨ͐̽͆ͭ̓ͨ͘̕ ̴̶̛̱͚͍̣̟͇̭̩̦̹͙̪̭̯̹̼̮ͯ̊̌̐̎̓͜͠U͇̻̰͍̻͇͚͕̻̺ͭͪ͛ͩ̉ͥͩͯ̇ͦ̎ͦ̅͂̀͘N̸̵͆ͦ̀ͨ̒̓̏̊ͣ̊̑̍́̚͡͏̬̺̯͇̜̗̫̝̞̩̲K̛̫̤̫͇̠̮̣̥̦̭̼̽̉̂͋͐͘N̵̷͇̞̲̙̯̘̙͚̲͉̟̠̠̠̦ͬͥ͆̓ͭ͗͋ͥ̈́̇̓ͥ̽͗́́ͅƠ̸͚͕̹͓̳ͭ̀ͮͮͩ̓ͩͬͨ͒ͯͥ͛̅ͧ̈͊́W̵͉͕̘͕͇̞̫̐͂̾̚N̊̐͑̑̐̇ͮͧ̈́̏̑ͩ̅ͧ͌̈̈͐҉̶͖͈͖̼̯̻͓͔̩͢͠ ̡̛̟̬̘̪͚̮͇̪͙͕̱͔̩̲͔̭̊̑ͤ̔̄͗̄͛̔ͩ̿̏͡ͅUͬ̓̽ͪ̽̃͛͊̍̊͐̽̔̓͝҉̞͖̺̩̟͖͙͎͇̖͎̻͡ͅͅN̷̢͓̻̯̥̭ͪͮ̆̓̄͊̓́͜K̡̥̮͔̭͇̭ͯͨͩ́ͩ͗̆̓ͥ͋̓̊̏̀͝͡N̵̝̤͔͖͈͍̙̓̒̊̓ͫ̐̀ͅO̔̉̂̈́̀͝͞҉̟̥͕̱͖̗̘̮̤̤̜͚̞̝̹̳͞W̶̨̡̘̙̔̾̅̋̑̾͒̾̓͛ͤ̍̎ͅN̴̞̭̖͍͙̫̥̜͚̹͎̥̘̿̍ͮͭ̓̇̏̒́̉̃͜͢͡ ̸̥̦͓̠̖ͦ̃̎̔̂̈ͯ̂ͣ̊͌̊̇̎ͥ̅̆͆͜͞ͅU̵͍͉̹͔͔̙͙̻̺̥͙͓̪̐̋̽̽͑̏̆̓̇͛ͧ̇̇̆̍ͫͅṄ̷̝̲͔̬͙͇̬̤̹̜̳̻̜͕̓ͩ̃̌ͪͮ͂͗ͣͬ̿̂̔ͧ͑́ͨ́́K̸̷͔͈͍͎̦̺̤̦̠̥̥̝̬̃ͨͮ̊ͪ̋ͫ͆̄̔ͣ̿̅͂̔̾͑̌ͫNͫ͗͆ͫ̂̎҉̹͈̗̜͎̦͙͕͇̣̻͢Ȏ̥̗̼̟͈͉͛̓̎͊͑̑͟͞͞Ẁ̶ͦ̓͌̈̌͆̔̏̒ͥ́ͫ͒̌ͧ͑͏̸̳̭̪͚̗̤̝͙͍͓̹̠̹̠̤ͅÑ̢̙͙̠̗̞̬͍͇̦͈̰̩̱ͧͤͧ́͗͜͞ͅͅͅ ̂ͦ̃͑̑͊͐͆̅͛̑́ͧͥͣ̌ͯ̂ͪ͏͏͖̮̗̯͙̖̥̼̲Ų̶̴͎̠͔̤̞̜̮̬̝̺̙̤̘̠͉̜̞͋̎͆̈ͤ̅̈́͗ͫͤ͗̒͛̐͂ͤ̓̚͞ͅṊ̡̡̛̫̼̳̦̝̹̗͕̺͓̓ͦ̒̏ͧͣ̔́̌̑̿͘͘K̢͛͒̂̃͌ͨ̑̋́̾̈́̈́̿͋͒̏̉̚҉͏̤͚̰̝͕Ņ̵̴͊̓̿ͣ͋̇̊̒͋̅̅̐̚͏͍̼̰͈͇͖̮̩̜̩͕͎̣̠̥̦͙Ő̵̶͉̥͙̜̰̲̻̳͓̖̪͍̞̼̻̺̙̒̈́̈̒ͪ̑ͤ̿́ͅW̢͓̩̠̼̟̫̮͍͉̜̰̌̏̊̓ͮͨ͆͞͞ͅŅ͈̠͎̜͖͕̯̝̹̱̣̖̮̍̾͆͂͆̔̓͗̆̌̾ͬ͗̋́ͪͨ̐́͢ ̡̩̯͙͍̤́̒̏̔͑ͦͤ̆ͦ̾̓͑ͪ͗ͯ̈́͞ͅU̙̞͚̹̗͉͚͖͔͈̝̖̤̤̗̖̦ͤ̄̉̋ͦͯ͂͜͟N̪̜̪͑ͩ͋͐̊́͠͝Ḵ̶̢̠̫̰̘̘̭̠̞͍̺͈̝͔̱̺̽̓̂̒̀͟ͅN̓ͭ̈̊̉͊́͢҉҉̗̭̦͇̩O̷̢̦̠̖̱̿ͭ̅̾̓̆W͑͐̿̽̌̓̿̓ͤ̔̇̏͆̒ͧͣ͗͆̾҉̞̹̲̪̭̮̤͈͙̙͓̕͘͝Nͩ̓ͫ̓͑̐ͮ̚҉̶̘̗̯̙͍̫̠̫͖̮̤̰̹̙̩̥̳͖͡ ̸̣̗̘͍̗̫͙̯̯͕̯̪͍̈́ͦ̃̽̋͌̐ͮ̑̓͜͝͞Ū̵͐̔̒ͣ͆͂̚҉̴̨̱̜̙̞̼̺̯̦̩̳̝̻̫̖̮͙̘̗N̵̵͍̣̖̯̝͔̤̼̔ͩ̾ͪ̅̾ͮ͊ͨ͝ͅK̵͇̪̭̮͖̹͓̤͎̟͕͍̦ͬ̑̈́̕͡͡N̷̗̙͓ͪͩ̎ͣͬ͒͆̓̀̐̐̒̑̾̕͟͠͠Ỏ̵̷͎͍͈͚͇̰̳̠̩͙̼͉̘̺̣͖̞̪̏̓̊͐ͤͦ̇̃ͥͨ̅̚͘͝W͎̗̞̳ͨ̾͆ͨ̀Nͯ̓ͥ̿̀̃̒̽̌ͪ̈̆̂͗͘҉̛̺̮̤̖̥͍̻̗̺̳̪̤ ̏͆̌͗̓̐̓̾͛̔̍̈ͧ̾̿҉͝͝҉͔̝̺̝̹̝̺͉̟̭̩̜̺̯̜U͈̗̬̤̲̟̘̖̽͑̓̒ͬ͒̔ͪͫ͗͊̿͆́̚̚̚͟͜͡N̴̛̺͖͚͚̻̟̘̄ͮ̎ͫ̔ͨ̏̕͟K̸̨ͫͬ͐̌͒ͧͪ̅̀͟҉̞̩̳̭̻̼͔̗͖̬̬͔̞N̊ͯ̒̋ͯͮ͛̑̀ͪ͑ͥ͋͑̈͗̏̅͡͏̷҉̡̞̼̱̭̜͕͕O͈͍͎̹͔͎̗̥͙͉̪̝̹̳̖͕̥̬͆̈ͩ̈̏̆͐ͥ́͜͞W̸̵͕̲͔̳̻͉̭̙̏̈̌͐͗ͬͦ̒̿̽̎͌̒ͧ͋͞N̴̛̫͈̭̞̲̗̬̜͚̫͕̥̤̭͐ͫ̀ͬ͟͞ͅ ̨̛̳͕̘̜̖̳͓͖̻̀ͩͨ̃̌̐̃͛̏͆ͫ̽̔ͭ͛̇U͂̀͌ͦ̌ͨ̌̎̈́͏҉̡͏̖̦̻͙̪͖͎̝̻̖̘̲Ņ̶̫̘͇̜͍̹̣̜͎̖̬̺̌ͭ̌͆ͅḴ̵̢̱̰̼͚̻͓͙͉̠̙͖̪̘̞̥͍̼̰ͨ̎̓̔ͪ̎ͪ͐ͭ̀̌͂̉̀͜N͆̌́̒͋̂̔ͧ́̇͋̒̕͏̵̭̳̰̞̱̩̤ͅO͙̘̦͈͕̮̙̘ͮͦͥ͌͢͝W̵͉̰̙̗̉̉͆ͯ̀̑ͦ̋͗̓͢N̢̗̲̞̤̲̝̭̖̺̤̺͍̖͕̲̫͉͕͖̊̄̇ͥ͡ ̷̨̮̣̠̞̯̝̹͇͇ͭ͂͑̑͑̄ͥ̂ͩ͛ͦ̏͌̔ͬ̔̑̀̕͠U̡̥̟̺̻̰̻̺͚̖̥͒̈́̃̈́ͫͦ̽͂̆̌ͪ̏̉ͭ̉̕͘͞N̽̆̓̏ͭͧ́ͥͧͯ̾̓̀̽̎͐͝͏̢̭̝̳̝͘͡K͒̋͋̀̔̉͆̏͆̾ͧͭͬ̒̾̓̔̈҉̶̨͔̪̲͔̯̰͜͟N̢̼͓̼̲͔͈͙̲͎͋̿̆ͪ͆͌͗ͫ̋̏̽̆̀̚͘͢͡O̴͌͗̅ͮ̂ͩ͏̧̧̩͎̟̤̘̜̘͔͇̣̠͈͕̰̼̫̙Wͧ̇̽̆̕͏̱͔̫̣̖͓͚̯̺̫̘̰̼̝̹͇͠N̷̶̸̶̢̹͚̤̤͕̹̬͉̘̳͕̺̩̯͇͕̣̑͋͐̉̓̌͋͛̽̋̈́͒ͅͅ ̶̡̧̲̭̰̫͓̪̤̌ͬ̿́̚͟U̢̨̠̹̫̯͎̼̪͈̥̗̝̦̥̮̍͛͐̚̕ͅͅN̶̛̖͙̩͍̱̾ͭͩͪ̈̅ͣK̴̥̜̜̦̣̘̝̺̙̬̗̺̱͈̈̎ͭ͛̏ͩ̏͑̽̈̃̋͌̅ͩ̽̅ͅN̶͕̣̦̦͒̽ͥ̏ͥͪ͆͋̄̅̇̃̽̋̿̄̀̚̕͟͠Ǫ̊̓̓̾ͯ̍̓̀ͤ͝҉̼̘̰͉̲̞̤̖̹̣͔̥̭̭̜̹̠̼͠W̞̠͔̭̱͉̳̦͔̜̥͚̮̱ͧ̓ͮͨͤ͡͠ͅͅN̴̵̛͎͉̯̼̬̣̈͋̊́̓ͦ́͞ ̶̞̩̖̟̝̣̦̥̗̼̮͔͍͍͗̈́̑̽̀͌ͧ̊͛ͦ̂̓͞ͅU͙͇̫̹̱̱̦̜͈̥̪̝͇̇ͦ͆̑ͨ̈̄ͪ̂̒̂̄̕ͅŇ̞̱͕̣̹̗͙̩͖̩͈̰̪͕̳ͫ͌ͥ̔̆͂̆ͣͮ̽̏̆̓͒̃̑̆͢͡K̵̩̮̞̯̋̊̎ͬ̔́̾̇ͮ̃ͦ͊ͦ̚̚͞N̷̳̭̮̭̞̘̼͇̰̻̙̼̗̦̖͗̆́̄̔̒̄ͤ̒͋̊̍ͩͧ͒̒̐͟͟Ǫ̸̑̏ͬ҉҉̺̙̳͍͔̦̭W̸̶̛̬̩̘̘̉͛̊ͨ͌ͩ̎͗̄̓ͤ͆͡͞N̷̶̨͓̖̻̳̻̰̘̪̙̻̖̠̠̯͎̬̰͍ͦ͛͌͆̓ ̀̅͂ͣ̋͊ͪ̄̾̄ͫ̌̚҉̶̡͉͓̹̭̪Ų̘̞͇̼̲͇̦̰͍ͦ̔͗̃ͣ̒ͥ̈́ͮ͌̚͞͝N̠̹̼͎̥̳̙̙̏̇̾ͥ̍̏̄͑̂͂̋̉̋́̄̎͂͢͢͠ͅK̴ͧͣͪ̍ͨ̎͌ͣ̌͏̶̤͕̻̯̺͔̟͈̩̣͈̮͎͕͘͟Ņ̩̠̥̫̗̘̬͍̣̦̰̯͑̈͑͐̓ͫ̉ͤ͐̀̀̚͡͝ͅͅO̷̷͚̯̫̯͚͉͙̜̼̠͚̜̞͚͈̻͍͕̘̅ͮͩ͆̏͜͜Ẇ̗͉̜͚̫̗̗͖͎͖̦̬́ͦͩͥ̂̈́͐͜͝N̴͈͚̺͖̘̼͎̰̾̈͋͌͂̔͋͛͊͜ ̶͈̭͙̹̦̲̲̼̼̯̠̹̃ͮ̌ͬ̌̉̌̔ͤ̽ͤ̈̿̀͢Ư̵̛̪̙̟̹̣̳̖͆͒̓͐ͣ̾͑ͬ̃ͯͮ́N̨̖̲̤͚ͬ͐ͧ̏̾́ͅK̈́ͮ͛̓̓̃̃ͮ̚͟͏҉̨̨̤͈̖̘̫̻̜̗͍̼͍̜͙̻N̴͚̣̩͙̭̠̳̘̰̆ͮ̿ͣ̄͂̇͐͊ͬ͑͑̃ͬͦͯ̈́̀́͝O̡̱̤̖͕̻̖͔͈͎̪̫ͥͧ̇ͧ̀̊̅̎̉ͦ́̀͟͝W̢̡̞͚͕̮̱͉̮̳ͦ̅̒ͣ͘͢ͅN̶̪͙͉̙̖͔̤͑͌̋̾̏ͤͨ̌͆̅̀ͧ̐ͩ̉͋ͧ́ ̡͖̥̹̘̮̯̠̹̪̜̙̦̭͕͓̻̐͌͐ͥͥ̌ͬ̃̂̽̅̾͗̚͟U̴͇̭̗̳͉͍̻̭͓̝̲̐̊͗͑͌͑̒ͬ́͌̓ͪ̀̋̓͢N̶̠̬̯̹͉̫̫̘̳ͤ̿ͥͧͩ̚͘Ḱ̜̣̭̲̦͇̞̩̣̦̠͓̞͎̣͚ͯͧͩ͐̏ͣ͗̂ͧ̒ͨ͛͞͝Ṉ̴̢̘̱̟̘̮͔̰̰̜ͬ̎͒̐̃͛̑̈́̃͘O̖̳̫͕͖̤̠̩̻͖̫̪̟̖̜̰͖̓͛̓̃ͮ͌̈́̚͟͢͞͡ͅW̨̨̖͉̟͈͖͓̬̺͓̣͔̥̺͖̪͓͈̐̏͐͆̎̇̆͗̇͝ͅN̶̴̵̞̗̱̭̥͖̖̖͍͖̣͙̰͔ͫ̿ͫ̉ͦ̾̀ͅ ̷̶̶͉̞͉̻͉̱̆ͮ̈́̃͘Ư̷̧̨̥̤̦̪̞̬͈͋ͥ̈́̓̈͆ͪ̽ͬ͌̎ͯ͘Nͣ̽ͣͬ̿͗̊ͪ̀͋̎́̎̓́̚҉̢̺̳̤̰̬̼̤͈͚̫̗̼͙́ͅK̷̸̺̗̠͉̹̺͚̦̬̹̤̙̺̰͍̿͋ͣ͆̇͋̃̀͑͊͋̍ͨ̏͐͋ͮ̋̚͢N̨ͧ̍̿̎͗ͮ̈ͣ͑ͤͫ͆͐͑̿̈̔̀ͪ͏̭͖͙̤̻̝̲̜ͅǪ̸̜͍̫̯̟̼͍̩͙̦͖͇̥͖̖̇̄͛ͧ̍͐ͮ̎ͤ͛͂̂͌ͧ̄͌̔̀̚W̨̟͙͖̞͖̝͒̏͌̍̔̍͆̎̉̈́ͨ̀͆̿̀͝N̷͛ͫ͐ͥ҉̗̠̲̭͎̺͎̟̭̩̱͕̲̻̙̭̼̦ͅ ̨̛͓͈̙̥̻͈̣̥͇͙̝̇͐͆̆ͤͯ͊͂̏ͦ̏̔ͩ̍̈́̀̄̀̚͟͡Ű̵̷͇̱̗̤̥͕̻̄̔͑ͪͥ̐ͦ̑̆̕͜͠ͅN̨̧̥̭̜͚̝̝̺̹͕̥ͮͥ͂K̯̥̪͈̬͓͓̻̘̩͙̱̝̗̙̖̗̳̝̃͗̋̀̚͢͞N̸̦̤̤̳̣͓͎͙̥̼͕͎̙̞̥͚̑̅̂̂͐̅͌̅ͯͮ̍͞ͅO͉̻̦͙̖̘̺͓̩͇̬ͣ̆ͯ͆́ͮ̎ͤ̿͆ͬ̽̓͐̿͛̽̍́͠W̨̺̼̜̭̜͈̣͔̠͐̉ͩ̋̌͒̏̚͢N͉͉̭̙̖̫̗͎͎͎̫̖̮̩͇̩̭͂̈̎̿̏͂̕͠

Level; 5 Alpha Alphas Are by all affairs Dominate Alpha Predators Virtually always when they set their eyes for a kill They get it. and are generally the only ones capable of Ensuring dominance over the weaker beings. Such so other beings fear them.

Level 4 Lesser Alpha Lesser alphas have multiple ability Either psychical and Supernatural but what sets them apart from the supernatural is the scope of their powers. and how many they have killed...

level 3 Supernatural Oh look now we are getting into the people i can actually talk to without being disgusted. Supernatural are entity's with ability that extend beyond psychical Like teleportation and Subliminal suggestive. and telekinesis.

level 2 Enchanced Ugh the The enhanced humans with extra Physical capability in return for most of their sanity Hard to kill without injury. but in the long run. they are easier to kill then the higher levels but have a aptitude for surviving like rates.

level 1 Human. Squishy beings arn't they even the stronger ones are easier to kill then most enhanced, ugh they are worse then rats.

I havmy character sheet's....

n the world... and it disgusts me. The only beauty it has is that its perfect fuel for a fire...

Name The Observer but other alias's include Him. The all seeing eye. Historian and Watcher.

Age N/A (most people have only seen glimpse's of him. only to forget drawing his image on paper does not invoke the memory's upon viewing.)

Skills/powers Other then short term teleportation. (doesn't work through walls but can work through gaps) his main abilty which is by far his most defining one. Is the power to be forgotten.

in short he do- "stop charak you don't know what your getting into. Ive planned this for so long and i don't need you coming in here And fucking it all up so be a good little Rat and Go back to writing your memoirs " Fine ill stop... The observers power works by that as soon as you break the line of sight *Sound of a scuffle for the microphone glass smashing* He *Cough's* is Forgotten instantly from your memory including all conversations you held with him. until you next lay eyes of him It stops him being followed. *Ggrk*
"You didn't hear any of this..." *audible click as microphone switchs off* - Last Recording made by Charak Lazarus 19XX - 2009

(this even works with recordings off his voice You will forget the recording until you play it again. his voice can only be recorded and played once before the tape rejects it. Physical ability wise hes weaker then most enhanced but has been shown capable of using weapons with a varying degree of skill).

Biography "The observer has been Seen Periodical points through history senses the anglo-saxon era he has been shown to manipulate the events slightly but not to much so that one could pick it apart to figure out somebody changed it. But neither the less The Observer has been burning any books that reveal a shred of his past. Oh fuck ive said to much." *sound of a gunshot*

Personality Although his personality has been known to change during times of physical violence. His flat line personality is one of uninteresting. he sees lesser beings as disgraceful trash that never should of been and when faced with beings of higher power he has been known to exhibit a fear response if the specimen exhibits any form of aggression towards him. Basically he runs

Theme song

Other, 5.

Apperance Human form

True form

Name Fenrir

Age N/A

Skills/powers "ugh you think you know me. Fuck no. You have no right to say my name like i am your equal when in reality. your just way to clingy Just cause i can reverse the effects of that bastard doesn't mean i will help you Charak" I can pay you with his location. he will be at the Nessie Street Parade at 7:30 tomorrow evening to meet a cilent? now please let me remember "Fine i will restore your memory's of the observer But if you come near me again You are dead you hear me DEAD" Charak Lazarus's 2nd to last recording.
(he can restore lost memorys)
_______________________________________-
"Holy Shit What the hell Call in reinforcements This guy an't human Hes hes something else We can't contain him Hes burning down our men and is advancing towards my position What do i do" *the phone line crackles* "Sir Command has decided to abort. their will not be a evac." *sound of fist slamming* "You gotta get theses men out it will be a slaughter we can't fight something like this." *Command hangs up* "They have abandoned us Sons of bitchs We are all going to fucking die. Mum dad... I love you." *Massive crash as the microphone hits the wall and breaks*. - Lazarus projects first attempt at containment of Fenrir for studies in 201X
_______________________________________
Fenrir has the ability to Emit a Aura that causes those within a 500m radius to enter a blood-lust. It doesn't affect those without a mind such as psychopaths or the insane. The blood-lust comes with the temporary increase in strength and speed but with a the cost of attack anything living within sight he also has enhanced Speed Strength and Hearing. but also has a massive appetite.which if not sustain with a fuel source causes him to weaken. and eventually die. but as long as he is sustained he is a force to be feared.

Biography Mortals must rely on the wisdom of the Gods, but never forget they are fallible. They can be petty, churlish, and worst of all, wrong. What are the consequences for their mistakes? They should have slain the wolf-beast Fenrir, but they chose instead to bind him. Despite the warnings and prophecies he would tear Odin apart at Ragnorok and devour the earth and sky, they did not end Loki's son. Now, terror roams free. It is unknown how, but Fenrir is Unbound.
Thrice they tried to bind him, each time convincing Fenrir that the chains were nothing more than a challenge for his strength, a test to see if he could shatter them. The first two God-forged fetters were easily broken beneath the beast’s terrible power, but the third was a ribbon, dwarf made, and Fenrir grew suspicious of the God’s intentions. As a show of faith, he demanded one of them place a hand in his mouth, and if the ribbon proved magical in nature, he would exact punishment. Brave, if foolish, Tyr put his fist in Fenrir’s maw as the ribbon was secured to the wolf’s leg. Fenrir strained and screamed, but could not break free, and in rage, he devoured Tyr’s hand. For a time, Fenrir was forgotten, the prophecy just a memory. But they were all warned and the Gods did nothing. Fenrir is hungry now, the first hunter, an alpha among sheep, but no flesh will satisfy his need. It is revenge he craves, and now he is Unbound.

Personality: He is by all accounts A very violent individual Quick to Ripping your throat out if you so as look at him the wrong way. He hates a certain man and will callously slaughter those that have had business with him He rarely makes any emotional attachment to anyone due to his Ancient betrayal. he has so far only trusted one man enough to not kill him without reason. Charak Lazarus. The founder of the Lazarus project... he also thinks highly of himself as such he treats everyone as a lesser being. Except one person One man who he hates. hates more then any other. He Despises the Historian...

Theme song

Other level 5

(Her appearance is in one of the links.)

Name
She tilts her head to the side before a blue glow appears showing her names. 'Heiðrún, Duša, Urðr, Annbjørg...I have forgotten my original name, so please refer to me as Alice.' The blue writing seems so well done that it looks like feathers.

Age
Question marks appear as she starts to count, before 'A long time.' replaces the question marks.

Skills/powers
She blinks, before what can be described as a blue box full of words appear. 'I have a large knowledge of the Old Norse language, seeing as some of my names are from there. I know extensively about runes, both old and new. Newer ones tend to fade a lot, sadly. Anyway, every epoch or so, I can choose to either go back, return to the 'spirit world' or stay at the current time zone. An epoch, for those who don't know,is tens of millions of years. So I chose to stay last time and I'll be here for a while. Saying this, I'm not 'invincible'. I can still fade, or rather die, and I still age.

I am however immune to things like disease while in my true appearance. My human form can still be affected. My true appearance is not affected by physical objects, only mental ones. My human form can be subjected to both. I can communicate with beings who have died or have died once and risen again in both forms although it depends on whoever is present while I speak. I find it easier to do so in my true form.

I have some control over weather such as rain, snow, sleet and ice. This depends more so on my mood. If I feel cold and distant, ice. If I feel sorrow, rain. The more I feel the mood, the more heavy the weather gets. It only changes it around me, however. I couldn't direct it to rain on a specific area, it only follows me. I bet you're wondering if I have a physical weapon. I have two, technically. Arcane runes and also two chakrams. Ah, are you tired of listening to me? I'm sorry, I'll stop now.'

Biography
She frowns. 'I don't know what I am, but I remember being here one time. When I first arrived where we are now, some elders said it was the spirit world that I had been from. Of course I doubted that, but now I'm not so sure...'

Personality
'Personality? Some say the eyes are the window to the soul. Mine are empty. Does that mean my personality is empty, too? A cold, barren wasteland, full of misery and pain? Or perhaps full of a dark, empty world that no one can describe, but everyone can clearly see...' She slouches in posture and 'says' nothing more.

Theme song
'I wonder if anyone remembers me...Or are they now ashes? Another pile of bones to be forgotten or to be blown away.'

Other
'Zalgo. He comes...' appears in the same blue glow, but it shifts like static. It's soon replaced with 'Who is Zalgo, exactly? Another entity?'. She seems very interested about him. 'I can speak, by the way, it's just that I prefer this option of communication.' An echo resounds in your head, although it feels like it's around the room, 'I hate to use this, however. It gives many others mild headaches and paranoia.' It doesn't feel like she has one voice, but a blend of them, all speaking at once.

Age: ?? appears to be 16 but her real age is unknown.
Skills/powers: Collecting souls in half hearts that are strung on a necklace that she is never seen without.
Biography: He looked at the officers and shuddered at the thought of the stange lady he had met just hours earlier. " Heres what happened..." he looked at the officers and didn't start at the beginning but from where he remembers waking up. " Lady let me go!!" " My friends... They faded away." She moved her fingers in a twitching manner, never stoping the motion. " I caught their souls though, i didn't let those fade away... You can watch their eyes for the clue on when to catch the soul..." She said her black eyes staring into mine almost forcing me to stay and hear her tale. " Ive seen the souls drain from many... Their eyes loosing the life." She stayed where she was her wandering hands making their way to her necklace with I had just noticed was not even full of charms, so many charms. Her fingers danced along them like they were the people, I think would they represented. " then right before all their soul is lost you catch it in a jar and leave it their for about five minutes... for it to collect into a new soul harboring object... i call them Shards." I stared in horror as she takes out a small jar inside was a charm in the shape of a half heart like the ones on her necklace. A smile appears on her face as she looks at you. "So... do you want to play?" I don't remember what happened after words but she was gone and i was un tied. This was the last account of Shards being seen.
Personality (can be hidden until the roleplay begins): Psychotic, Creepy, Overall strange.
Theme song (optional): If anyone else knows a creepy song.
Other: If she finds someone close to death she will Take their souls.

Name: Vincent Fox

Gender: Male

Alias: Glitch

Powers: Glitch can manipulate technology, and video games in particular. Glitch has wandered for a while and he has gathered allot of other gaming spirits into a modified Nintendo Gameboy.

Bio: Glitch was a normal kid, but his parents thought him to avid a gamer. His parents were supper religions and the games offended them. They locked him in the basement to stop him, but one day he was able to sneak a Gameboy past them. They found him with it and beat him nearly to death, then left him to die and bricked up the place but not until after they dumped all his games and his computer all down their. He somehow survived, or maybe he came back from death, but in any case fed on rats. He was able to set all the games and electronics up eventually and he eventually learned about his ability to manipulate the games. Eventually he was let out, where it turned out he seemed to be the same age.

Appearance: Glitch has white hair with streaks of onyx black, and his eyes have grown read. His canines have grown razer sharp and he cant eat anything but raw meat.

Personality: He is neurotic and he doesn't understand social situations at all...

Theme Song: Game Over-Falling In Reverse

Physical description: Light hazel hair, lightly tanned skin, hazel eyes, perfect teeth, skin starts cracking slightly after long exposure to sunlight, usually wears black or white clothes, always carries around a large, black umbrella.

Name: Stensia Wulfric

Age: 214, looks 18

Skills/powers: 1. Limited, emotion-based telepathy. Can feel the emotions exhibited by those in close vicinity to him and can induce emotions with various degrees of intensity within them. He cannot read thoughts per se, nor force certain actions, but the emotions themselves often push his victims into assuming different behaviours (for example, bombarding someone watching the landscape from a balcony with depressive thoughts may cause him to jump over the edge). Wulfric is weaker against those who are aware of their emotions being meddled with and against those who are somehow... broken (for example, Wulfric can't just infuse a psycho out to get him with feelings of guilt until they stop on their tracks, albeit that would work on a normal man).

2. He is also a skilled swordsman, trained in ancient vampiric modes of combat. He hides his blade sheathed in the black, long umbrella that he carries around.

3. Finally, as a vampire, he heals rapidly either while in complete darkness or while feeding.

Biography: Wulfric was born in the Stensia Bloodhalls, during Victorian times, during the decadence of the vampiric houses. Stensian vampires were special, in that they were able to feed off death without having to be murderers themselves - a reason for which they survived so long into the Enlightenment Era. Unlike other vampires, they did not have sharp teeth and did not drink blood. Instead, they fed off the rich with desperation emotions of the dying - specially the violently dying. Traitors, rapists, pyromaniacs, murderers, pirates, most were executed gruesomely, within the halls that Wulfric grew up in as a boy. While he was still small, he had not yet accepted the darker aspects of life, and, thus, as he was participating in an execution, wished for nothing other than the convict suffering as little as possible. And it worked. One by one, the prisoners died calmer and more serene than before. Alarmed as to what had been happening, the other vampires discovered Wulfric's hidden ability as a Blur - one that could not only sense and feed off others' emotions, but cause them in the first place. Wulfric was given a choice: stop meddling with the executions, or become exiled. Then only 25 years old, young and idealistic, he chose exile. But now, after two centuries in the cold, dark, unforgiving real world of death and sorrow, Wulfric had to face up with the harsh truth: not everyone is worth saving, and not every life is inherently valuable.

Personality: Despite his long life and many murders, Wulfric still retains some of his idealistic nature, and the power to stay his hand. Also, he is not primarily motivated by his necessity as a vampire to keep killing, but merely, by a deep hatred for the criminals and emotionless he is slaying. He is, however, rather arrogant, viewing most humans as inferior, and doesn't hesitate to use his powers for mundane needs (for example, enveloping a taxi driver in thick waves of confusion so he forgets to ask for money for the ride). Emotionally sophisticated humans, however, like artists, pique Wulfric's interest.

Theme song: Carmina Burana - O Fortuna

Name: Mr. Bones
Age: 125
Skills/powers: Can make a hella amusement park ride. Being undead.
Biography: The man named Mr. Bones was born in Denver Colorado in the year 1889, the son of a Alice Bynes and Benjamin Bynes. His life was in a sense, fairly un-noteworthy, helping his parents tend to the local small theater they ran, often hosting small circus groups for the bemusement of poorer families. Theater ownership wasn't necessarily kind to the younger Bynes and he lives largely in poverty.

If there was one gift he had though, it was in his creative prowess in making odd or amusing contraptions. Though often little more than side-show affairs or the trivial interest of toddlers he was persistent in their construction, building them as more elaborate baubles as he got older. His skills were so much he ended up designing a play-park for neighborhood kids.

The young Bynes was restless as a young man. And the skill set he possessed was considerably niche, forcing him into a life of poverty and hard booze. Bynes traveled the nation, little more than a snake oil salesman of intricate, if otherwise useless devices.

In 1908 though, he was discovered by a engineer who had moved to Denver to work on the futuristic Lakeside Amusement Park. Captivated by his work, he hired the young man on as an apprentice and brought him into the company designing and building the large park of future enjoyment. It was his place to shine.

Even drunk on liquor he was known for the rapid pace of his construction, and the elaborate nature of his rides. The company being impressed utilized his plans, paying a substantial reward for his hard work.

Over the next few years he began to live comfortably once again designing carnival rides and attractions for the budding industry of amusement parks. He bragged that millions rode his rides alone, simply out of blind adoration for the looping thrills and spills. He was proud about it, and loud. Until tragedy struck.

In the summer of 1913 during the First World War one of his rides broke, violently. He was not present to witness it, but when he read it in the papers after his heart sank with sorrow and rage. But how could it break? He was sure it was safe! It had ran faithfully for years!

He suspected sabotage, and went out to condemn the parties he thought responsible. They however got to his bosses first, and in short time he was fired to cover up for their own shortfalls. This move struck Bynes hard, and his world flushed back into darkness. The bottle came back. And in 1914 as the war drew to a close he drew his life to an end. Putting a bullet in his head during May of that year.

His soul was however restless. And Hell hath no room for entities that the devil would find amusing. Being cast not into even Purgatory, or allowed in Heaven, Bynes was forced to wander the living world alone. Consumed by his own misery and consuming revenge.

Well by this point, Bynes exit and a legend begins.

The mystics and superstitious around carnivals and amusement parks tell of a tall top-hated specter that haunts near the rides that soon come doomed to failure. He comes as a gangly old man, skin white as paper and pulled gaunt over his ethereal bones as he lurks the parks by night, or in the shadows by day. He comes like a specter from the Wild Hunt. An omen of certain demise.

But in an age of cynicism his presence is rarely headed. Or even noticed at all. Though some still speak. Some might even worship the one they call the enigmatic Mr. Bones. He who shall build a wild ride.
Personality: Proud, arrogant, vengeful, boastful, black humor
Theme song: Unofficially given to him
Other:

Name: Jeff the Killer
Age: 17
Skills/powers: faster and stronger than an ordinary human his age
Biography: Jeff's bio
Personalitly: Jeff is a sadistic killer with little regard to other people depending on who it is. If he were to encounter a normal person he would either stalk and kill them or ruthlessly attack them. He doesn't like to kill other creepypastas unless attacked first. There are a few exceptions as he and Jane fight whenever they meet each other and Zalgo is a major enemy.
Theme song: Killem All by King 810 Jeff's goal in life
Other: ... Smile.jpg

Name: Simon ( Scissors )
Age: 18
Skills/powers: Sharp reflexes, incredible speed and fast recovery
Biography: "I'm just your average psychopath."
Personality: Mentally insane
Theme song (optional)
Other: "I love your eyes" -Scissor's catch phrase before he murders or cuts his prey's eyes out.

Name: Clockwork; Clocky; Natalie Ouellette
Age: 17
Skills/powers: Stealthy, quick, flexible, agile, silent, not as strong as most creepypastas who are just humans with enhancements but she makes up fro it with her speed and stealth and the element of surprise.
Biography: Click me!
Personalitly: TBR
Theme song:
Other: Zalgo, he comes/

I do not take claim to the story, credit goes to unknown author @http://jtk.wikia.com/wiki/Jane_the_Killer:_The_Real_Story
Listen, the only reason I'm going out of my way to tell any of you this is because the story "Jane the Killer" is starting to piss me off.

My real name is Jane Arkensaw, a.k.a. "Jane the Killer" and this is how I met Jeff, the reason I look the way I do, and why I want to kill him.

When I heard that a new family had moved in across the street, I wasn't that surprised. It was a nice neighborhood, and the house was relatively cheap considering where it was. I guess I was about 13-14 when everything went to hell.

I never really talked to Jeff when he moved in. To be frank I never talked to him until... that night. But it's too soon to talk about that now. My first impression of Jeff was that he was a good kid. Probably got nice grades, rarely got into fights, maybe even a cool guy if he opened up to someone.

His brother Liu, seemed like he put family first by the way he sat with his brother on the sidewalk. Of course I was just guessing at the time and really didn't put much thought into my analysis because I was getting ready for school when I looked out the window and I was running late, which was unusual for me at that time in my life because I was hardly ever late for anything. Especially school.

I wasn't surprised when I saw Randy and his stooges go up to Jeff and Liu on that stupid skateboard of his. Randy was nothing but a bully, he always picked on anyone who was smaller than him.

He was even the reason why my parents drove me to school instead of the letting me take the bus like everyone else. Everyone had their lunch money or some kind of cash given to Randy and his goons because of some "toll" that he demanded from everyone.

We all knew Randy's group had knives and threatened to use them on us we ever told anyone about the money they took from the other kids on the block. Everyone, except the new kids they were trying the intimidate like the rest of us.

When I saw Randy talking to them through the window I just looked away. It was wussy thing to do but. I had better things to do than watch another kid hand over his money to Randy. But curiosity got the better of me and I looked up a few seconds later. What I saw left me speechless. Jeff was standing now, and it looked like Randy already had what he wanted.

"Just sit down," I thought, "Don't be stupid".

Then I saw Jeff punch Randy in the face and break his wrist.

"Oh my god." I whispered. Then I yelled, "You Idiot!"

My parents ran down the stairs and asked what happened. Then they looked outside and saw what was going on. Jeff had already cut the skinny guy, I think his name was Keith, and he went down screaming. Troy only went down with a single puinch. Since my house was across the street from where Jeff and his brother were sitting, with the front of the house having big windows, we saw the whole thing. Or at least I did, my parents came in after the part where Randy stole their wallet, so they didn't know the whole truth.

It was disturbing watching Jeff fight. He was enjoying himself too much. I felt a knot in my stomach like something was happening that shouldn't be, and from the look on Liu's face, Jeff didn't do this kind of thing often. Next thing I know I hear sirens and the new kids bolted out of there. The cops came around with the bus driver to check on the "victims". It seemed they were going to be alright.

You know, considering the amount of crap kicked out of them.

Since my parent's policy was "no cops" ever since my dad got framed by a narc cop when he wanted to draw attention off of himself when police where investigating the case of the missing coke. It ended with my dad quitting the force. So when we heard sirens we went into the backyard got into the car and left.

When my parents drove me to school they told me very clearly that they didn't want me talking to Jeff ever. I did not disagree with them.

I had art first period so I didn't see Jeff until close to the end of school. I can still see the colors in my artwork if I think hard enough. But when I try to look at anything now, it all seems gray. I guess that's the price someone pays for losing their innocence.

I didn't see Jeff until the final period of the day. When I did he seemed... off. At first I thought he was just faking the joy so people wouldn't suspect him for the crime that he did. But he really was enjoying himself. It wasn't because he was excited to be at school I could tell that much from him. The smile he wore looked sadistic to me. It was the smile of a madman. The second that bell rang I bolted out those doors as fast as I could. Nobody but me knew what Jeff really was. A freak.

The next day seemed to be passing without incident at first. Then I saw the police car in front of Jeff's house.

"Looks like they got you." I thought.

Nobody could gotten away with something like that (You know, with the neighborhood watch and everything.). But I was wrong with who they arrested. Instead of coming out with Jeff like I expected they would, the police came out with Liu, his brother.

I was barely forming the thought of Jeff framing his brother for the assault when he came out of the house yelling at Liu, "Liu tell them I did it!" (I was able to hear him this time because the front door was open to my house.).

I couldn't hear what Liu said in reply to Jeff's outburst, but it was definitely not what Jeff wanted to hear. A few seconds later, the police drove off with Liu, and Jeff was left outside with his mother. A few minutes later she went inside the house and left Jeff outside. Although I couldn't hear him from across the street, I could tell that he was crying.

But who wouldn't be in that situation.

The next day rumors were spreading like wildfire about Liu. It took so long for the rumors to get started because everyone was afraid to talk about Randy getting his ass handed to him. When it was revealed that he wouldn't be coming back to school for a few days, everyone decided to take advantage of that fact and enjoy it as much as possible, and lots of random bullshit started popping up.

"I heard Liu cut off Keith's arm!"

"Oh yeah? Well I heard that Liu hit Troy so hard in the stomach that he ralphed up blood!"

"That's nothing! I heard that he punched Randy so hard in nose that it came out the back of his head!" and etc, etc, etc.

Personally I didn't want anything to do with Jeff or his brother. But... he just looked so alone and upset that I had to do something. So I wrote him a note telling him that he had a friend in this place and that I was going to testify at Liu's trial about what really happened. I left the note at his desk signed with the letter "J" before class started, then left the room. When I came back Jeff was at his desk and the note was gone.

Saturday rolled around and I was home alone while my parents were at work. The kid next door was having a birthday party. At the time I left my window open because I wanted a nice breeze in my room while I did my homework. But the kids were getting so loud that I decided to close my window. I was about to close it when I saw Jeff playing with the kids. He was running around wearing one of those fake cowboy hats and carrying a toy gun. He looked so ridiculous I had to laugh.

"Maybe he isn't the monster I think he is." I thought, ashamed of myself for suspecting he could have been one.

As I was closing the window, I saw Randy, Keith, and Troy jump over the fence on their skateboards to where Jeff was.

"Not again!" I said to the open window.

I saw Randy and Jeff exchange small talk but I couldn't hear what they said over the sound of the kids yelling and screaming. Then Randy rushed at Jeff and tackled him. I was about to grab the phone and dial 911 when I heard Troy and Keith shout, "No one interrupts or guts will fly!" I looked out the window again and saw that they both had matching guns in their hands. I couldn't have called for help then without endangering the lives of others. I couldn't have called 911 anyway, the batteries in my phone was dead.

Jeff was on his side getting kicked by Randy in the face when he grabbed his foot and twisted it. Randy fell over and Jeff tried to walk back to the house when Troy grabbed him by the collar and threw him towards the house. I heard glass breaking and I knew then that they were going to kill him.

"Randy you asshole!" I screamed at him. But he couldn't hear me over the sound of the kids screaming.

I couldn't wait anymore, so I ran to my parent's bedroom and searched for my dad's cellphone, hoping that he forgot it at home. My heart was pounding in my chest, knowing that the longer it took for me to get help, the higher the chance of someone getting killed was. I finally found the phone underneath the bed. I wasted no time punching in the numbers.

"911 hello?"

"I need help there's an emergency going on next door! Some guys jumped the fence and are beating up someone! They've got guns you need to hurry please!"

"Okay miss I need you to tell me the address and I'll send help right away."

I quickly told her my address and the address of the house next door.

"Please hurry!" I said.

"It's okay just stay on the lin-" BANG BANG BANG!

I heard loud gunshots come from next door. I yelped and dropped the phone, it landed on the ground and broke. Then I ran to my bedroom window to try and figure out what was going on. But no sooner had I poked my head out the window I heard the woosh of a fire and the screaming... I'm going to make Jeff scream like that again when I find him. The only thing I can compare it to is the death cry of an animal. It was at the time for me horrifying. But now it sounds like music to me and there is nothing I want to hear more in the world than him screaming.

I saw fire spew out of the house like an angry dragon. I ran downstairs immediately and got the portable fire extinguisher from the kitchen and ran outside. As I was running I popped the pin for the extinguisher for immediate use. Luckily the door was unlocked as I barged in but when I saw Jeff, I completely froze.

He was lying at the bottom of the stairs almost completely on fire with adults trying to put it out. I saw bits of his skin through all the commotion. Some parts pink, some parts charred, but it was all covered in red. At the sight of all this I screamed and then I passed out. Last thing I remember is some of the adults running towards me. Whether it was to help me or get the fire extinguisher I don't know.

When I came to I was in a hospital bed wearing one of those gowns that a patient wears. A nurse came in a few moments later. She had long brown hair in a bun hidden under her hat. She looked like she didn't want to be there. I asked her what happened.

"All I know is that you were brought in with a few other kids because you fell and hit your head on a fire extinguisher." she said, annoyed.

"A fire extinguisher?" I reached up my hand and touched my head. I felt bandages and a large bump the size of a orange. Then I remembered Jeff. "One of the guys that came in here with me, the one with the burns, is he going to be alright?"

She sighed, "Listen, there was two boys that were brought in with you that had burns, and no I'm not letting you see him just because he's your boyfriend."

I felt the heat rise in my face. "He isn't my boyfriend! I'm just worried about him! Wouldn`t you be worried about someone who you just saw burning alive in front of you?!" I tried to keep my voice steady, but my voice quivered enough to make it sound like I was lying.

"Whatever. Your parents are here by the way. Wanna see them?" she asked.

"Yes, of course!" anything to get me away from that nurse.

My parents came in and the nurse finally left. They asked what happened. I told them everything. The fight, the note, all of it.

"I knew that Randy was no good!" my mom said.

"So have you heard anything about Jeff's condition?" I asked.

"No, not a thing," said my dad, "we just got here as soon as we heard about what happened to you."

"But who told you?" I asked. I didn't think I saw anyone at the party that my family knew.

"The hospital called us." mom said.

"Well I guess that makes sense." it made absolutely no sense to me of course. How would someone be able identify me without me having any form of identification.

I looked in the doorway and saw a man and a woman standing in there. My parents followed my gaze and saw them too.

"Excuse me, but is this Jane Arkensaw's room?" the woman asked.

"Yes." my mother answered, "Who are you?"

"I'm Margret, and this is Peter, my husband." she gestured to the man beside her. "We're Jeff's parents."

I sat up in my bed.

"I'm Isabelle, this is my husband Greg, and our daughter Jane." mom gestured to me.

"So, you're the girl who ran in with the fire extinguisher." Margret said.

"Yes." I replied quietly, embarrassed. "Is your son alright?"

"He just came out of surgery a few hours ago. The doctors said he will be fine."

I relaxed at that thought. "That's good." I said. "Listen. I know what happened to Jeff and Liu on their first day of school..." then I told Jeff's parents what really happened to Randy and his crew.

"We had no idea that Jeff was capable of something like this." Peter said.

"I am willing to testify that Liu didn't beat up anyone and that Jeff only beat up Randy and his gang in self-defense."

"No need," said Margret, "Liu is being released from jail after what happened to those boys."

"That's good." I said.

"We just came to say thank you for trying to help our son, Jane. It warms my heart to see selfless people in your generation."

I blushed, "I did anything anyone would have done in my situation." I looked down, "I'm not a hero."

"Nonsense!" Margret said, "The least we can do is invite you over to our place for dinner when Jeff gets out of the hospital!"

I looked at mom and dad. "It would be an honor." My mom said.

"It's settled then! We'll call you as soon as Jeff gets out of the hospital." we said our goodbyes and then they left.

About 2 days passed and I was allowed to be released from the hospital. During that time I had no contact with Jeff or his family, but I heard that Liu was released from jail and Jeff's wounds were healing.

When I got back to school, I became the center of attention, more or less because I was the only one who saw what happened at the party. But the only people I told about what happened were my friends: Dani, Marcy, and Erica. I didn't know what to tell them so I told them what I saw.

"Sounds like Jeff got his ass handed to him." said Dani, she had raven-black hair, with sapphire-blue eyes. She was usually the most level-headed of us.

"Well at least he went down fighting. I heard he took those idiots to the hospital with him." Erica snickered. She always dressed like she was from the 80's or something. Long, thigh-high rainbow colored socks, with hair to match, and always wearing some kind of backpack with her.

"He also took Jane to the hospital. Maybe she was trying to beat him up too." Marcy laughed. She seemed to be the "girly-girl" of our little group. She was blond with brown eyes, and nearly every time we saw her, she had some sort of pink on her. Whether it was the color of her shirt, or the jewelry around her neck, and she was one of the biggest drama-queens I knew. Always stretching out the truth or blowing something out of proportion.

"I told you, I went over there to try and help Jeff because something was wrong." I muttered. I was the "plain-Jane", brown hair, green-eyes, completely unremarkable looks wise.

"Or maybe... You wanted to see your love one last time before he left to go get help for himself." Marcy said in her dramatic voice.

I just looked at her with my eyes the size of dinner plates.

"Wha... What?"

"You can't deny it Jane Arkensaw! You have a crush on Jeff!"

Every blood cell in my body decided to migrate to my face at once when she said that.

"What?! No! I j-just wanted to help him that's all!"

"Liar! I saw you leave that note you left on his desk! What was it? A confession of your love for him?"

"No! It was nothing like that at all! I was just-"

"So you admit you left him a note then!"

"What do you mean?"

"I was guessing." she gave me a cynical little smile and then just waited for my response.

The other girls started laughing at me.

"Jane it's only a joke! I was just kidding!" Marcy smiled.

"Your face is redder than a tomato!" Erica cackled.

"I hate all of you." I grumbled.

"Oh, stop being so serious!" Dani put a hand on my shoulder. "Come on, let's get to class."

The weeks went by, everything seemed to be normal. I think Liu even made a few friends. Everything was normal and nothing happened. Then Liu came up to me one day and told me about Jeff.

"Excuse me, your name is Jane right?"

I turned around and looked. It was Liu.

"Yes. You're Liu right? Jeff's brother?"

"Yeah." he looked a little uncomfortable. Then again, so was I. "Look my parents wanted me to tell you that Jeff is getting his bandages removed in a few days, so expect a phone call inviting you to dinner soon."

"Okay, well, thank-you." I said.

He was about to turn away when I said, "Hey, listen, what you did for Jeff... that was really respectable."

"Thanks. I heard you tried to help my brother with a fire extinguisher. That was cool."

"Yeah? Well thanks. See you around, I guess."

"Yeah, see-ya."

I was watching him walk away when I heard a little voice beside me say, "Cheating on your boyfriend are you?"

"The fuck?! I turned around, surprised. It was Marcy.

"And with his own brother none the less!" she fake gasped.

"Shut-up!" I yelled. Then I turned my head to make sure Liu didn't hear me. He didn't.

"Lets just get to class." I grumbled.

Two days passed until the phone rang. My mom answered it. A few minutes later she got off and told me this:

"Jeff is getting out of the hospital today Jane."

I looked up at her and said, "That's great!"

"It looks like we'll be having that free dinner in a few days!" she chuckled.

A few hours passed and I heard a car pull into a drive-way across the street. I looked out the window and saw Jeff's car in front of its house.

"Jeff's home." I thought. I decided to watch out of curiosity, to see what he would look like. Dear god how wrong I was.

His dad got out. Then his mom. Then Liu. But what I expected Jeff to look like couldn't be farther from what I saw. He had long black hair down to his shoulders, white, leathery skin, and that smile... that smile was the same smile I saw when he was in class after he beat up Randy, Keith, and Troy.

But Jeff looked right at me. Into my eyes I could feel those soulless, sadistic eyes burn right into my soul. I still shake from the memory even now as I type this. He seemed to be looking at me for hours with that smile until he looked away. I saw him walk into the house with his parents. I didn't even breathe until that door finally closed behind them. My parents came into the living room and asked me what was wrong.

My only reply was a long, loud, scream. Then I fainted.

When I finally woke up, it was dark outside. My parents weren't in their bedroom. The house was deathly quiet. I got up and went downstairs. I was wearing a long nightgown that I wasn't wearing before I fainted. I went downstairs to the kitchen. The lights were on, which was unusual, my parents always told me to turn off the lights in a room when I left it.

There was a note on the table.

I picked it up.

Scrawled on the paper was this:

''Aren't you coming to dinner? Your friends are here too."

I began to shake violently. I dropped the paper. I went to the living room window and looked out. The lights were on in Jeff's house. I knew that I had to go there, but I was terrified out of my mind. I shook my head and looked back again. I saw Jeff leaning on the window in his house staring at me with a knife in his hand and tapping it against the window.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

He was still smiling.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

I started stepping back from the window, never taking my eyes off of him. Then I turned and ran away from the window into the kitchen. When I peaked out of the kitchen to look out the window, all I saw was a smear of red on the window.

I turned around and looked at the kitchen. Everything seemed to be in its place. Even the knives. I grabbed one of them and held on tight. Then I found the phone and tried to dial 911. But the phone line was disconnected. I had no idea where dad's cell phone was, or if it was even fixed. I didn't want to go upstairs to find it. I didn't want to get stabbed in the back while I was looking for it; and if I went to ask one of the neighbors for help, Jeff could kill or hurt whoever he have captive. So there was only one choice. To go fight Jeff alone.

I clutched the knife tighter and went to the front door, put on my shoes, and went outside. My hand lingered on the doorknob as I stepped outside. But I knew what I had to do. I let go of the doorknob and marched across the street to Jeff's house.

As I got closer to front door of his house I began to slow down. My knees began to shake, my palms began to sweat, and I started to breathe faster and shallower. before I knew it I was standing completely still on the front doorstep panting like a dog. I manned up grabbed the doorknob squeezed my eyes shut and jerked it open.

I stood there in the doorway with a knife in my right hand and the doorknob in my left, too terrified to open my eyes. Until I heard a voice say, "Looks like you made it. I'm glad you did, friend." I opened my eyes. Then screamed.

His eyes were large and unblinking, and his smile was red. He had carved a smile into his face! His clothes were covered in blood, and then I passed out.

When I woke up I was at a dining room table. My knife was gone, and when I looked up, I saw people sitting at the table. It was my parents, Jeff's parents, his brother Liu, and my friends. They were all dead. With smiles carved into their faces and huge red cavities in their chests. The smell was unbearable, it's indescribable... unlike anything I had ever smelled before. It was the smell of death.

I tried to scream but I had a gag in my mouth and I was tied to a chair. I looked around at the room in disbelief. Tears were welling up in my eyes from the sight and smell of the bodies.

"Look who's finally awake."

I turned and looked beside me. Jeff was there. I tried screaming but the gag was in the way. Suddenly he was beside with the knife against my throat.

"Shhhhhhh, shush, shush, shush. It's not polite to scream at friends." he began sliding the blade across my face. Constantly tracing invisible lines from the corners of my mouth up my cheeks in a large grinning smile. I shivered as he did this. When I turned away from him he grabbed the back of my head and forced me to look at the scene at the table. "Now, now, don't be rude, you're insulting everyone by not looking at their pretty faces."

I looked back at the table, looking at everyone with their faces carved into smiles and some with their chests still bleeding fresh blood. Hot tears began running down my face and I began to sob.

"Awww what's wrong?" Jeff purred, "Are you upset that you don't look beautiful like them?"

I looked at him, trying to understand what he said. But I looked away when I saw his face again and looked back to the table.

"Don't worry, I'll make you look beautiful too. What do you say?" he then slid the knife under the gag and cut it off.

I spat out the gag and looked at him straight in his eyes, trying to hold his gaze. He tilted his head to the side as he looked back at me. Then I shut my eyes and looked away from him. Then I muttered darkly, "Go fuck yourself." then I turned to look at him again, "You Joker reject!"

He just laughed in my face. I preferred it when he just smiled.

"You're even funnier than I thought."

He came closer to me. I looked away again, feeling his breath against my skin.

"Friends do Friends favors right? Well I'm going to do a favor for you."

I felt him let go of the back of my head. When I looked back he was out of the room. I looked back at the table once more, taking it all in. Fresh tears started to come down my face again as I remembered my family and friends who were alive only a few hours ago. I was still crying when Jeff came back.

"Don't cry." he said, "It'll be all over soon."

I looked down at him and saw he was holding a jug of bleach and a can of gas.

My eyes widened and I looked back at him.

"I didn't have any alcohol, so this will have to do."

Then he began to douse me in bleach and gasoline.

"We had better hurry, Jane. I've already called the firemen."

Then he held up a single match.

Lit it.

Then threw it at me.

The flames erupted as soon as the match came into contact with me. I screamed as loud as possible. The pain was unbearable. I could feel the flesh melting off my body, the heat invading every pore in my body. Blood evaporating in its veins, and my bones becoming charred and brittle.

Before I blacked out, I heard Jeff laughing, "See you later my friend! I hope you become as beautiful as I am! AHAHAHAHA!"

Then everything went black.

When I woke up I was sitting in a hospital bed, bandaged from head to toe. Everything was spinning, and it hurt to blink, and breathe.

I looked around and saw an empty room. I groaned loudly because my mouth was bandaged. Everything hurt. A nurse came in a few minutes later.

"Jane? Can you hear me?"

I looked towards her. The room started spinning even more.

"Jane, I'm your nurse, Jackie, I don't know how to say this but, you family died in the fire. I'm sorry."

Tears started falling down my face again. I sobbed.

"No honey, don't cry. You won't be able to breathe if you do."

I couldn't stop.

"Jane I'm going to give you something to help you calm down alright?"

I felt something run into my blood stream, then I fell asleep again.

When I woke up again I could move more and my body wasn't as bandaged as it was when I first woke up. I looked around and saw that my room had flowers in it. Some were fresh, some were dying. I tried to get up but a nurse came in and put me back down.

"Easy Jane, you've been asleep for a while. Try to take it easy."

I tried to speak. My voice came out rough, and sand-papery. "How, how long was I asleep?"

"Almost 2 weeks. You were put in a medically induced coma in order for your body to heal. I'm the same nurse you saw the first time you woke up."

"Give me a mirror." I said.

"Jane, I don't think that's wi-"

"GET ME A MIRROR!"

I felt the handle of a mirror get slipped into my hand. When I looked into the mirror I dropped in onto the floor. The shattering of the mirror didn't compare to the shattering of my realization. My skin was leathery and brown, I didn't have a single hair on my head, and the skin around my eyes were saggy. I looked almost as bad as Jeff.

Everything came flooding back for me. I began to cry harder than I ever had before. The nurse was hugging me but it didn't help much. At the height of my sobbing, I was surprised that nobody else came in to check up on me. By the time I was done, I could barely speak.

Someone came into the doorway.

"Excuse me, I have a delivery for a 'Miss Arkensaw'?"

"I'll take those." Jackie stood up and went to the doorway. I didn't want the delivery guy to look at me so I stared at the wall in front of me.

"Someone certainly cares about you Jane. It looks like the same person who sent you all these flowers got you a package too."

I looked around at her. She was holding a pink paper package tied with brown string. I reached out and took it from her. The second I took that package from her I knew something was wrong.

"Excuse me but, could I have something to eat?" I asked as sweetly as possible.

"Of course, I'll get you some food right away." Jackie smiled back, then left the room.

My hands shook as I grabbed the string and pulled it. The paper lightly bounced up and I saw something that turned my blood to ice. It was a white mask with black around the eyes and a black feminine smile. It also had black lace covering the eye holes of the mask, so even though someone couldn't see my eyes, I could see them. There was also a long, black dress with a turtle neck, black gloves, and a black wig with beautiful curls. Along with all these things, there was a bouquet of black roses and a sharp kitchen knife.

Attached to the mask there was also a note:

'"Jane, I'm sorry I messed up with trying to make you beautiful. So I gave you a mask that will let you seem beautiful until you get better. Also you forgot your knife, I thought you would want it back."'

'-Jeff '

By the time nurse Jackie came back, the present was hidden under my bed. I told her all that was there was the flowers. She seemed to be disgusted by them so she threw them out. I thanked her for that.

That night, when everyone was either asleep or gone home, I sneaked out. The only thing I had to wear was that dress. So I put it on and I found a pair of shoes outside in the hallway, forgotten by some careless nurse. I wore the wig to look less inconspicuous.

I didn't know where I was going, and I didn't care. When I finally stopped walking, I was in front of a cemetery. I went inside and found two tombstones. Isabelle Arkensaw and Gregory Arkensaw. I sat down in front of their tombstones and cried once more. When I finally sat up, the sun was beginning to rise, and so was a new chapter in my life. I took the mask and put it on. Then picked up the knife and held it as tightly as I did before. Then I turned around and looked at the rising sun, on that day I swore my revenge against Jeff the Killer and donned my new name "Jane Everlasting". For I want the only thing to be more everlasting for Jeff than his madness to be his death.

Ever since that day I have been trying to find Jeff and kill him.

Hunting him.

Hunting him like the animal he is.

As for the photo that has been popping up of me saying: "Don't go to Sleep, You won't wake up" that pretty much explains what I want to do with Jeff's victims, prevent them from becoming victims in the first place. Whoever said that I kill them so they don't get killed by Jeff is correct. I kill them in my own, less painful way(in my opinion). And so what if I did have a crush on Jeff. I hate him with a passion now.

I will find you Jeff, and I will kill you.