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The dregs of powers past have gathered... And they seek to reclaim what was once theirs. |
| [Introduction]
The world has moved on since the time of witches, vampires, and werewolves. Technology has marched on by, leaving the realm of mysticism behind-- things that were once gods and spirits have been explained by science and banished from nightmares. Some cultures still cling to their roots, but the harsh and systematic modern world is slowly stamping them out. Except... Except in north-eastern America, that is. The dregs of the mystic past have gathered there, at the core of the modern world... And they seek to reclaim what was once theirs. There are many cultures and many forms of magic, and your characters are not limited as far as powers go. Keep in mind that this is a Magic-themed CFC: no elves or anthropomorphics here, please. {c}Rules 1. Keep it clean, kiddies. I'm accepting some cursing here and there, some gore, and mushy crap, but nothing that would make your grandmother blush. 2. Be nice to the admins and people OOC. If you have a problem with someone, take it elsewhere. 3. Activeness is the key! I will skip you, and probably at a whim. (Dun worry-- you'll get at least a week unless you mail me with an excuse beforehand.) 4. Do things that make sense, for God's sake. This needs no explination. 5. This is one of my pet peeves: If you make a character, you control it. The charrie you sign up with is your's and your's alone: random characters (like bartenders and waiters) you can do whatever with. 6. Don't make yourself all-powerful! This campfire should center around teens just getting to know their powers! On skipping: I will give you a week to post. Depending on when I get online (or how lazy I feel) you might catch a break and get lucky, but not for long. If you miss more than four turns without giving me a good excuse, then you'll be deleted. If yah do join, please fill out the form below and send it to me via the writing.com e-mail thinger. Name: Age: Gender: Height: Weight: (or body shape) Appearance: (hair color, eye color, clothing, skin tone, tattoos, piercings, etc.) Personality: Abilities: (Brief) History: Members: Pen and Sword  achren skandranon Flara; Weaver of Worlds demonranger natalia Cory Kriebel preciouz1 ALSO: Please check out the official Red Butterfly RPG! Even if you already joined here, the RPG is almost like an alternate reality, and with more flexibility with posting, the plot should move much quicker. http://redbutterfly.avidgamers.com/index.html |
| Marlin breathed. He focused on being nothing but that breath, whistling down his throat and infusing his body with life. He kept drawing in the air until his lungs were ready to burst, and then touched the freezing-cold celtic tattoo on his chest. Power rushed through his body, vibrating from the tips of his fingers to the soles of his feet, infusing itself with the air held in his lungs. He exhaled. A wind so cold it burned blasted from his mouth, billowing like steam when it hit the warm night air. The power rushed from his body as well, leaving the black mark under his A Perfect Circle t-shirt only mildly cool. He'd been feeling the effects of his pent-up gift for hours, it seemed-- each light burned opalescent after-images onto his eyes, each sound echoed through his head as if concert speakers were blasting between his ears. Every smell was nausiating, every touch abrasive. Dealing with dinner was horrible, made even worse by his "parents". They weren't mean... Far from it. They were nice, almost to the point of being officious. Every five minutes they'd ask if he was alright, if there was anything they could get for him, or if he felt like going to bed early. Their attention was stifling. It was only when he was out in the lush forest was he able to release his tension without the danger of being spotted. The clearing Marlin was in had been his favorite haunt since he had arrived at his new home. Surrounded by unknown trees with multiple trunks, grotesquely curving limbs, and frost-covered leaves, it promised to be an eerie place during winter. Presently, however, the leaves were green and lush, and the grass looked too comfortable for him to pass up. He flomped down flat on his back and glared up at the sky. Using the last of his gift-energy, he summoned delicate webs of frost and held them aloft, playing connect-the-dots with the stars. |
| Cyreth sat alone, quietly sipping from a bottle of chocolate milk from a corner table in a diner that was apparently a popular trucker stop. Gruff old truckers leaned over the counter, winking at the young waitress and sipping beers. Cyreth crouched down and hugged his single bag, the only possessions he had, as two men began having a heated discussion right near him. Closing his eyes, Cyreth wished for his own bed in his own house instead of this sad excuse for a diner, just one more dirty stop on his way to nowhere. In return for his lost childhood, all he earned were a wealth of mysterious tattoos, which even now in the stifling diner caused him to remain covered with jeans and a hooded sweatshirt. A little sob of misery escaped his lips just as one of the drunks crashed into his table with another man right on his heels. Suddenly Cyreth's little corner turned into a greasy mess of blundering sots, and he tried desperately to sneak away without being noticed. Just as he thought he was home free, a hand extracted itself from the pile of struggling limbs and attached itself to Cyreth's sweatshirt. He yelped in surprise and pulled away, but his hood came down with it, revealing his face, which was covered with swirling black tattoos. "Whut in da hellis dat?" one man asked, his words slurring heavily, and one by one the men turned to look at Cyreth, who stood frozen in place. "Don't know," replied another, "But he ain't got nobody 'ere, oughta look at what he got in that sack o' his, and then maybe a bit of fun." "Please," Cyreth whimpered, "I don't mean any harm, and besides, this is all I have. I won't have anything if you take it!" The men, however, were unsympathetic. One reached out and grabbed the boy roughly by the arm, trying to pull the backpack from his desperate grasp. As Cyreth's insides shook with fear, one of the tattoos running down the side of his neck began to glow, and then his hands glowed with a bright green light. Having no idea what was going on, Cyreth began to panic, and felt every tattoo on his body suddenly come alive with light, power, and above all, pain. Suddenly every single man in the room was knocked backward in a rush of pure energy. Cyreth seized the opportunity to escape and ran blindly out into the night, fading away into the darkness. |
| sorry but I'm gonna have to ask to be deleted, I don't have time to add |
| Katala stormed from the kitchen. Her blonde hair streaming behind her. If her stupid foster parents started ragging on her about her grades one more time she thought she would explode. Her grades were average she wasen't failing anything but on the other hand she didn't have strait "A"s either. Unfortunately that is what they wanted from her. As she was getting ready to climb up the stairs she heard her foster mother yell, "get your sorry ass back here, or I'll..." Katala poked her head back into the room, "or you will what?" Before turning and leaving she gave them the finger. She ran to the door. Pulling on her leather jacket, and she dashed out of the door. She walked out of their poor excuse for a house that she lived in, and imagined burning it to the ground. For the first time all day a she smiled and laughed. She jumped on her Honda motercycle and rode away. After riding for about an hour her stomach started growling. She hadden't eaten much at dinner she was to busy contempalting her escape. Inspite of that she rode on into the night. She drove along the edge of the woods. As she went around a turn a deer ran out infront of her motercycle. Unfortunately she didn't have time to stop and ran into the doe. Her bike was totalled and her jeans were ripped past her right knee. She had road burn all the way up. Sitting up she saw the doe walking away. She touching her leg it healed the road burn, and she walked into the woods. |
| Marlin continued his tracery for several minutes, the patterns and pictures becoming more and more random as he drifted closer to sleep. It wouldn’t be the first time he had slept out under the stars, and nor would it be the last, as long as he woke up in time to get into bed. But that was something to worry about later... Now he was simply being lulled into sleep by the gentle crunch of forest debris underfo... His frost lacework shattered as Marlin jerked upwards and to his feet, touching the tattoo now freezing-cold on his chest. The world was now rendered black and white, though brighter somehow... he himself glowed a blinding blue-white, tinged with the yellow of fear. And beyond, through trees that seemed to disappear , he saw others. Not just normal people—they glowed white. But... People like him. People with gifts. There was a small one, over there... He wheeled around and saw another coming at him from the highway. And yet another, this one stationary, not a football field away. What was he going to do?! He couldn’t hide from them, not if they were like he was... But what if they weren’t? What if they couldn’t find him? Or maybe they were more like him that he thought, maybe they thought they were alone... And maybe they didn’t mean harm. He wasn’t going to take that risk. Marlin scrambled up the nearest tree that could comfortably take his weight, and it was only when the footsteps seemed just feet away that he noticed the beaten grass and unmistakable trail he had left. |
| Katala trompped up a very large hill leading to a grove of trees. Looking into the grove she could see someone or something sitting underneath one of the trees. Her ripped jeans mad a swishing sound as she approached(shut up i know it is most likley spelled wrong it's only 7am!!) the person. As she got closer she could hear the person speaking, "Especially if I was here first." Katala quickly stopped 'was she talking to me?' She thought. 'No,' the voice in her head said. 'Then who was she talking to?' She turned her head every which way slowly looking for the other person, but she saw none. She began running through some of the other possablities of why this person would be talking, and finally she arrived at the conclusion that this person was insane. Never the less she decided to stay in this spot. She climbed a tree, and looked at her watch. She realized she was missing karate practice. Katala started complaning to herself. 'If my stupid bike wasen't wrecked I could have showed up and said I wasen't comming, but no the stupid fricken deer had to run out on the road.' She shuddered angrely. When she looked down at her hands she noticed that the tattoo on her right wrist was glowing red. As it always did when her emotions were this extreme. Giggling to herself she sat back in the tree remembering her foster parents 'having a cow' because she got a tattoo. Then she noticed something strange the tattoo on her left hand in the fleshy part between her thumb and for finger was green. Looking up her eyes widened she looked at the girl across the grove this girl was like her! |
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