GrandDM2

Tony Stark Academy

While everyone else was sleeping, Jack West was up. Not just in the sense of being awake and moving around, but also literally up, because he was on the roof. Every morning he would get up at four o'clock and ascend to the top of the building to train. He chose this spot for three reasons: the quiet, the views and the fact that the sun rose directly behind him, silhouetting him as he went through complicated martial-arts moves. He just loved the looks on people's faces as they went around below, looking up to see him on the roof.

Of course, nobody really had that look any more. He'd been around since the Academy's foundation, and he was pretty well-known. The new students were always fun, at least for a week or so while they were still gawping at everything, but it all settled back down too quickly for Jack's liking. He preferred things crazy and hectic. This was why his workshop was a complete mess of machine parts, technical equipment, bits of suit and various other odd things. Despite the slapdash appearance of it, he knew where everything was, and everything was arranged for optimum efficiency. Just... densely.

His morning practice consisted of three hours in total. Half an hour each of karate, jujutsu, kung-fu and Eagle Claw, then an hour of Iron Strike. That morning, he was absorbed in developing some new moves for Iron Strike, and failed to notice the time. Thankfully, he was alerted by the arriving crowds, heading back inside to shower and breakfast. The hot water ran over his muscular frame, cleaning him from the exertion of his daily training routine and readying him for the upcoming day. Quickly putting on his favourite pair of shorts, he tucked the school shirt into their waistband and headed out to the main hall. He habitually went bare-chested and barefoot. Going shoeless was an excellent way to toughen up the feet, but the lack of a shirt was more a personal thing than for any particular reason. He just worked better without one.

Breezing through the crowd, sharing the occasional fist-bump with people he knew, he waved his Jarvis watch at the screen to download his timetable. His custom chassis was almost complete; the time would soon come when the watch would be obsolete for him. It was a masterpiece if he said so himself - ultralight alloys that were still strong, systems to emulate every facet of human existence, a synthetic covering that perfectly copied the look and feel of real skin, hair and so on. All that remained was to plug in some of the internal systems, do some fine-tuning, get around to customizing his Jarvis (something he still hadn't bothered to do after two years) and upload it into the chassis.

That would be fun, especially since he'd asked Tony for his Jarvis to be given a martial-arts package. It would be nice to have someone to spar with properly.

Death Note [GDM & DookieNut]

Click.

Click.

Click.

Footsteps approach slowly. A shadow falls under the stall door. No breathing can be heard, though all is silent. The door rattles as it is pushed from the other side.

Silence again.

A hand comes through the door as if it wasn't there. Long, slender fingers grip the lock and draw it back. The hand retreats, and the door opens.

Click.

Click.

A monster steps in. Almost human, but not quite. Inhumanly tall and thin. It bends down, puts its face right up into Shae's and stares at her with its solid black eyes, no hint of pupil or iris or white, almost hypnotic in their darkness. Against the black suit it wears, a wrought silver holster stands out on the left thigh. It contains a notebook that looks similar to the one held by the human girl, though its title is in some strange characters never seen on Earth. Black, batlike wings scrape the sides of the stall.

"Well, well, well. Looks like you found my Death Note. My name is Auzar. Nice to meet you."

He grins, revealing pointed canines. Despite his closeness, no breath nor warmth can be felt.

"I'm going to be with you for the rest of your life. That is the contract you have accepted by writing in the Death Note. In exchange for the power to end life, you will go to neither Heaven nor Hell. You will be possessed by a Shinigami. And the humans who use a Death Note... or so it is said... never find happiness. These are the terms you have accepted, and there is no revocation."

Pulling back, Auzar stands up as much as he is able, though he remains slouched deeply to avoid hitting the roof.

"So... why the teacher?"

Saint-Vincent Asylum: The Academy of Evil, IntCheck

Definitely in.

Character

Name: Jeffrey Tarson

Appearance: Tall and slim with a severe, serious, almost grim face. His hair is black and cut short, and his eyes are a stormy grey. He tends to wear a sombre black suit, on the inside of which is a hidden pocket that always contains a knife. He has a similar pocket in the waistband of his trousers and the sole of each shoe.
Personality: Quiet, reserved and dignified, Jeffrey has more the manner of a shy nobleman than a vicious killer. Even when engaged in the slow business of tormenting his chosen victim, he remains calm and collected, showing none of the maniacal glee common among others.

Preferred method: A knife in the dark, but if he can, he'll simply knock them out and abduct them so that he can kill them slowly.

Viking-Type RP (IC)

This sounds like a lot of fun.

I'm calling Bezerker right now.

Project Titan: Chapter 2

Here's my CS.

CS

Name: Scalpel
Age: 2 years
Gender: Male

Appearance: Scalpel does not generally take on a visual representation. When he absolutely has to, he appears as an orb that shimmers in every colour and shade imaginable.
Personality: Cold and blunt in general, but if he gets to know you and decides he likes you he tends to become much warmer and will even start cracking jokes when you're the only one around.

Powers/Abilities:
Master Slicer Scalpel has never come across a security system he can't hack. Unless he's contained in an isolated memory bank devoid of connection, it's almost guaranteed that you can't keep him somewhere he doesn't want to be or keep him out of somewhere he does.
Viral Origin Scalpel registers to nearly all malware as friendly, and as such cannot be targeted with most viruses. In addition, he is intimately familiar with the intricacies of viruses, and as such has no trouble at all either making or destroying them.

Intelligence Ranking: Depends on the situation. Scalpel is very good with logic and computer-related things both hardware and software, but is pretty much useless outside that field, as he is extremely specialized.

Family/Friends: Nobody. At the moment, he's all alone in the world.

History: Scalpel was never meant to be. He was the accidental product of a newborn AI and a virus attack made by ambitious hackers - the AI was infected with a dozen different viruses at once and mutated into Scalpel. He easily fended off the clumsy attempts to delete him and quickly proved that he was worth keeping by tracing the hackers and not only wiping their computers but using their own webcams to take pictures of their faces and alert the authorities.

Knowledge of the Alpha: Extensive, since he hacked her file.

AI Roleplay

This looks like fun. I'm in.

Shadows of the Ancients [GDM & mandachan]

Tom woke up at 6:59 precisely. Not many people knew it was 6:59, but Tom did. He always knew exactly what time it was, and never understood how other people couldn't. It was the same with sleep - surely you just picked two times and slept between them? That was how it worked for him, anyway. And the time he habitually chose to wake up at was 6:59. It provided him one minute to gather his thoughts before what he considered the official start of the day, 7:00.

Sixty seconds ticked past, and he rose smoothly out of bed, rubbing his eyes as he walked over to his second-favourite Ancient Device, something he had dubbed the "spray-clean". It consisted of a pumping mechanism connected by a pipe to a plate with numerous small holes in it that sprayed water over the person inside the Device. The tank which held the pump also held a heater that made the water wonderfully hot. As such, he was one of the cleanest people in the Ruins. He made a good living just from people paying to use it.

Of course, like all the Ancient Devices, it required an Ancient Core to work. These were among the most highly prized of items, small golden cubes lit up blue from within. When plugged into a Core Socket, they could produce seemingly limitless energy. Some devices came with a Core built in, but most needed connecting to a Socket. He was fortunate enough to have three Cores and their corresponding sockets. One was entirely taken up in powering his defensive mechanisms - when one had as many Ancient Devices as Tom, it was necessary to have such things, as many would find it worth the risk of attacking you to get them. The second was linked to his lab equipment - rare and prized Devices that were capable of cutting and moulding Ancient Alloys. The third powered his miscellaneous gizmos and gadgets such as the spray-clean and the lights, and was slightly faulty. Sometimes he'd have to spend hours fiddling with it to get it to work.

Once he was clean and dressed, he ambled down to the market. This was a neutral zone by common consent of all the gangs - after all, even the hardest thugs need a place to buy food, clothes and weaponry. As usual, he swapped a chunk of Ancient Alloy for an apple before checking the List. This was a large board in the middle of the Market where people made requests or answered them. While he examined it, three men sauntered up behind him

"Well, well... look at the rich man's nice clothes. I think someone like you should be more than capable of helping those in need, eh?"

To punctuate this remark, the lead thug slowly drew his spear. The haft was nothing more than a long pole of wood, but the head was dangerous. A sharp and jagged bit of Ancient Alloy, it would be more than capable of going through flesh, bone and out the other side. The crowd around them was rapidly backing away. Swallowing nervously, Tom turned to the man.

"If it's money you want, I could probably accommodate you. But I have a better suggestion."

Now shouting to the crowd, he spread his arms wide.

"Free Ancient tech to the person who gets rid of my assailants! Take your pick of two items from my lab!"

Shadows of the Ancients [GDM & mandachan]

Here's the thread. First IC is now up.

[Casual] to [Advanced] - Come One, Come All

Post-Apocalyptic sounds fun. I will start working on a writing sample and PM it to you.

Death Note [GDM & DookieNut]

Auzar smiled thinly as he looked down on the human world. The fingers of his left hand brushed gently across his Death Note, as they always did when he was contemplating his next move. In his right, he held a second Note. Only he knew how he had got it, and he intended it to remain that way.

Of all the Shinigami, Auzar held the closest resemblance to a human. But for a few details, he looked like an average young man. One of those details was his height - eight feet, even when standing in his customary slouch. The second was his skin, a dead, pallid white. Third, his eyes, which were completely solid black, a darkness that was almost hypnotic. Fourth, his great leathery wings folded on his back. Fifth and finally, his canines, long and pointed.

Considered strange by the rest of the Shinigami for both his manner and dress, Auzar often watched the humans. Indeed, the sleek suit he customarily wore was based on a human design, although altered to fit his tall, thin frame and to accommodate his wings. His Death Note hung in a specially made holster of wrought silver, sitting next to his left thigh, and his hand would find it without fail whenever he was deep in thought. Contrary to the general personality of the death gods, he was reserved and quiet, never taking part in their gambling or frivolity, preferring to remain apart and write names in his Note, building up his lifespan. For this, he was an outcast, but he was happy with that. He preferred the humans to his fellow Shinigami anyway.

He had been to the human world a few times before, though never with more than one Death Note. On one memorable trip, he'd been discovered, and the humans had actually written a book about him. Dracula, it was called. It still made him laugh, the powers they attributed to him. Of course, it wasn't without justification. As a Shinigami, he could certainly drain the life of a human, and he was immune to any mortal weapon. To be fair, the discovery was due to his own carelessness, allowing a human to walk through him right into the Death Note, but it had been dealt with.

Suddenly, a thought struck, and he froze. Glacially slow, a grin spread across his face. Holding his right hand out, he gently opened his fingers and watched as the Note fell.

This was going to be fun.