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Post by Schwarzen*Adler on Jan 19, 2012 21:24:53 GMT -5
CHRISTOPHER JAMES GRIFFITH
 Who's that fit young chap over there? <3 Why, it's me!DATA Class: Hmmm? What am I, you ask?
Oh, you must have been confused.
Don't worry about it though, luv, no one can blame you.
Now you must be thinking " What kind of human being can be this bloody sexy." That can't be normal, can it? I mean, just look at the beast! It has to be supernatural in one way or another!
I can assure you though, I am 100% human.
A very ace human being, but a human being nonetheless.
What? And how is it my fault that other blokes look so less desirable than I?
That shouldn't make me any less human, now should it?
Of course not.
Oh, you sad, sad souls.
Haven't you ever seen a man as physically attractive and fit?
Where have you been all your secluded lives?
And no, fit there doesn't mean healthy, bloody illiterates and their "radical, modern slang". It means attractive or as you might say " Holy shit, that man is so fuckin' bamf! I just wanna go take that to a room and start getting my end away with him".
You’re probably now thinking, “How can such a fine young chap be a scientist? Aren’t they all nerds with glasses and asthma?” Well, most of them are; I'm not. Isn't that all that matters? But then again, who are you to talk?
How’s the vacuum cleaner-love bite going?
Have you made it look like she fancies you yet?
But, here’s an idea for all of you just in case. A friend of mine told me about this once, and I thought it might come in handy for all of you. First, use the vacuum cleaner, then apply a wet rag to the spot, pinch and twist, then use an iron or something hot to make it look like the person wasn’t sucking too hard. Don’t worry you little nancy boys, it fades rather quickly. Do all of these steps and viola!
You officially have no life.
Congratulations.
Now have fun sleeping in your mum and dad’s basement for years to come, anguishing about your insignificant lives and how you haven’t done enough. I’m sure you’ll have a smashing good time bingeing on junk as you weep into your pillows while daydreaming about shagging that bird across the street.
Yes; I am such a ray of sunshine, am I not? And I will continue being so no matter how much you complain or whine about my attitude. Because really, what can any of you do about it? Such is the way that life works, mates. You'd best start remembering that.
Not everyone is nice enough to coddle you from the truth.
And I, am not part of that everyone.
Whether you be an attractive woman or not, I will be honest. This world is one that is survival of the fittest. If you have mercy or you lag behind, the hounds will eat you. It is your choice whether you want to put everyone above you in terms of importance. But not that I myself never agree to do so. While I was not physically attempt to harm you, I am not they type to take anything sitting down either. I may be a mere human, but I do have something to my advantage. At my control, I have the mecha-krovi, a weapon of mass destruction and brute force. I do not have all the riches in the world; I do not head a house; I do not have super human strength; but I do have resources at my disposal. I am quite willing to use them to my advantage if called for.
I treat the Mecha-Krovi like a child because in the end, she will be the thing that decides my fate. But I know that that thing... that thing is no longer even completely human. Those eyes are not the eyes of a sprog, but a killer. They see nothing but blood lust and destruction; they know nothing but death and deceit; they are incapable of knowing anything otherwise. She believes that all humans are daft, that we cannot see what is directly in front of us! And while that may be true for some, it is not true for me. I know her well enough... I know her well enough to see when she questions and when she begins to remember. I have seen her wavering loyalty, though I do not speak of it aloud. And as such, I created a plan. Installed in her body is a device that can completely override her human nature. By damaging and possibly destroying a large part of her cerebrum, we can stop her from thinking and remembering without our permission or guidance. You see, the cerebrum is used for memory, senses, and thoughts. Without it, she will not be able to go against us.
But in the process... we destroy her ability to absorb or act according to the situation at hand. We will cause her to become blind, deaf, completely robotic, and possibly even kill her. To destroy that part of her mind is equivalent to taking the last of her remaining childhood. I should feel no sympathy for her for she is not human. And yet, human nature compels me to do so. I have been called an arse, a git, an arrogant jerk, trash, less than human. And while I may be all of those things, I am not a killer. Though I've said that she is not human, I have seen moments where she seems to be, moreso than even us. I once showed her a butterfly in the Silverhollow garden while waiting for the others to arrive. I paid no attention as it has been something I've commonly seen since I was young. She watched it fly around the air for a brief moment and attempted to reach for it without my command. I watched in awe as she almost...almost touched it. And for a brief moment, I thought I saw her smile.
But then, what felt like a moment of pure magic ended. She withdrew her hand as the head passed by and walked up to me, asking me for my next command. The light I had seen momentarily in her eyes had ended before it could truly begin.
I am not afraid to use Zeta.
But I am afraid to kill the little human girl I saw on that day.
"My soul, though it may seem dark, is not corrupted enough to do so."
...... Oh lord.
Did you actually fall for that melodramatic shite?
Really, people just eat up anything nowadays; don't they?
Ok, ok. Calm down, mates. Before I get hatemail for this, let me explain myself. I care, really I do. Just, not in such an over the top way. "My soul, though it may seem dark, is not corrupted enough to do so." Doesn't that sound like depressing fanfiction crap to you, luv? ''The arrogant, cold-hearted scientist's heart melts under the fiery passion he feels for the emotionless robotic lass only to never have the same feelings reciprocated or returned in his lifetime."
Goodie. What's next?
Shall we have a dollymop, or as you may say a hooker, thrown in to form a love triangle as well?
Name: The name's Christopher Griffith.
Fear it, blokes.
Remember it, ladies.
Though I am quite surprised that you didn't know it, if I may be perfectly honest with you. Everyone and their mother knows that I am the creator of the lovely Mech-Krovi (who I must say is a fine, fine specimen. But of course she is! I had something to do with her, didn’t I? So it’s only expected that something I touch will become practically perfect in every way! ). Call me arrogant if you will, but I won't hide the fact that I am quite chuffed with myself for practically raising her both in terms of ability and intellect.
It wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say that without me, there would be no Zeta.
Without me, this plan would’ve failed.
Without me, everyone would have died.
Without me, ladies everywhere would be crying that their gift from whatever supernatural being there is up there was not given.
Yes, a large part of what makes the world what it is would be missing. Because without me, you would all be nothing. Why? Because I said so. And anything I say is automatically true. Why? Because I claim it to be.
But that…
that’s another story for another day.
I’ll probably go into it later, but right now I don’t care enough to do so. Am I leaving you hanging? No. Because in the first place, I never even had to tell you anything. You know, I could just go off and do other things that interest me more. But. Here I am talking to you. And yes, I expect a thank you, my chaps.
Now, I’m doing this all out of the goodness and graciousness in my heart.
Though with that goodness, I expect compensation.
Ok. All in all, I’ve done a lot more in the span of three years than those other gits will ever do in their lifetimes, wouldn’t you agree?
No?
Well, your opinion doesn’t matter much.
Or at all, but I’m trying to be nice here.
So I do hope that you do try to appreciate it.
Now between you and me, I didn't actually have anything to do with her physical development. I never even met the girl before she was… what she is now. But while I may not have been the one to have operated or changed her, I did do my fair share. So no, you can't say that I did nothing. But why am I telling you this now? I’ll expound on that later. My, I am putting off quite a lot; am I not?
Hmm… it’s probably because I can’t be arsed.
You can try and… you know… be a better audience, can’t you? Surely your tiny, minuscule, and insignificant brains can manage to do even that. Maybe then I'll bother telling you such interesting information that you definitely cannot live without. For those too dense to take a hint, that was sarcasm. Have you ever heard of it? And no, it's not edible.
Oh, and on a more informal note, there is another thing I’m known for around here. I am quite possibly the greatest company you can ever have in a bar. Frankly, it's like my second home. Just pissing in the bar, relaxing, flirting with women, pissing some more. And no, pissing doesn't mean to take a leak. It means getting 'wasted', in your words. Have you got that?
Nickname(s):
Nicknames, you say? Well, here are a few...
I respond to Chris, Christopher, and 'Hey, sexy'.
I do not respond to Griff, Griffith, C, Christ, or Topher.
But when I was a wee lad, I did have a close mate that called me Kit. Pretty little bird she was, before she moved to lord knows where. (Probably half way across the world by now, at this rate) I remember that we'd piss about in our free times (remember what I sad about pissing? This is different. Now, it means to fool about.) and pelt rocks at the random passerbys who unluckily came in our way.
It was their fault for passing by. It wasn't like we held a sign up saying " Come this route and we'll smash you on the head for free!"
Moving on, she'd yak on and on about things I can't possibly be arsed to remember right now. She'd repeat the same points over and over and waffle on about useless information that no one else gave a damn about; but, I guess that was part of her charm. Right? And it just further makes her seem like such a loveable person in this point of time. I do say, perhaps that saying is right. Absence truly does make the heart grow fonder.
...
...
(...Are you daft?
If you took that statement seriously, you must be.)
Who am I kidding? She was horrid.
So don't call me Kit either.
Birthday: May the Twelfth.
The day that the world as a whole grew a tiny bit less of a hellhole and that all your insignificant lives actually added up to something barely decent in importance.
Why? Did you expect a while biography about my childhood?
You just asked for a day, not necessarily a speech about my life.
Moving on. House:
Of course I live in a house.
Where else would I live? The streets? Your mother's closet?
I really don't see why I have to answer this shite; and if you're just going to ask me such a load of bollocks, then I shall be taking my leave now.
Yes, I will leave.
Because, I have better things to do.
Now, what say you?
...
Oh, I'm just messing with you.
Don't be such a boring stick in the mud, mate.
Really, even I feel stiff just looking at you.
Now house, you say?
Silverhollow. I am working for them, am I not?
Besides, it was either that or the pricks in Whitestag and the barmpots in Goldsbloom. Quite frankly, I’d rather not be surrounded by a room of nancies or a group of sweaty gits who think they’re the law.
I have more dignity than that.
[/blockquote]  PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION: As grey as the evening clouds that roll o'er the waves the ocean stormy; as grey as the metal glinting in the sunlight, reflecting the passionate glare of the warrior brave; as grey as the rocks of the majestic mountain ranges bordering the east, shadowed by the light of the dimming sun; as grey as---
... This is bollocks.
It's grey.
Simple as that.
Or 'gray' if you want to try and convince yourself that that's considered valid spelling.
Hair Colour:
Black.
What, you wanted me to compare it to onyx or some shite like that? Do I look like a poet to you?
Height: 5’9 Weight: 140 lbs. Build:
[Pushing his chair back, the young man sighs. A flash of irritation passes through his face as he rolls his eyes.
He doesn't seem to want to get up from his chair.
Managing to extend his arm toward the more or less nearby cabinet (which you realize was probably there for a reason) and lean towards the files behind him, he rummages through the different papers alphabetized and stored in their correct areas. Flinging them out handful by handful, papers fall through the sky like rain in a storm-struck rainforest. Pulling a fat, paper-loaded one out, the young silverhollow scientist laughs. "Sanctions" he snickers, " Bloody little buggers." ]
Now according to my medical reports...
"Mister Christopher is of medium build. He is neither tall nor short, nor skinny or fat. He was sanctioned though for lying about his health. Though he suffers from no problems such as asthma or the like, he was extremely vague during the medical interview. When asked about his bone structure, he retorted with ' That's what I'm going to a doctor to check, you gits. What am I paying for? A self-diagnosis?' When asked about the amount of alcohol consumed daily, he grew defensive. ' I can keep my bloody liquor longer than you can probably take to run a bloody marathon with a bloody handicap.' Also attempting to flirt with the nurse by asking her to place her hand over his chest, he seemed more interested in her number than his own overall condition. 'Luv, I think there's something wrong with my heart, because it beats faster the farther you're away.'
The following day, said nurse quit and began to train as part of the law enforcement team. "
What can I say?
That nurse was fit.
Distinguishing Features: What about me catches attention, you say?
Good question.
If you asked me, I’d say everything. Because, no one else is as fit as me, agreed?
No?
Then let’s pretend I care about how you feel, shall we?
Fine. Think about it this way, you're asking me about what makes me look different from you. For one, we are not related. Meaning, we have different genetics and DNA. So obviously with all the different hereditary traits that we inherit from our mummies and daddies (who most probably look different from one another), I completely and totally look like you. Because genetics work that way, yes?
Furthermore, let’s be serious for a moment.
One of the most distinguishing features that I may have from you is speech.
Yes, dear chaps, speech and pronunciation.
For example, you say po-tay-toe; I say po-tah-to. You say to-may-to; I say to-mah-to. You say pajamas; I say pyjamas. We spell colour with a u; and you went and removed a letter to prove a bollocks point about your independence.
"Hey, lads! Listen up! I've got another idea!"
" Again? This better not be like your Red Indian idea... "
"No, no! It's better than that! But you do have to admit, it did work. We sure got those Brits big time, didn't we?"
" Yes, I suppose that's a fair argument. Now, what is this idea of yours?"
"Since we're independent and all, let's boycott the usage of u's in all their words! It'll show them just how bloody free we are! 'Sides, it'll be just like a kick-'n-the-bloody-nuts to those Brits! We don't need your bloody spelling rules! We can make some of our own!"
"Lad, what does that have to do with our independence? I thought we were fighting due to taxes, not their grammar."
Now let’s call the whole thing off.
Probably the thing that would distinguish him most is his overall attitude. Because being an ass gets all the ladies, doesn't it?
Typical Dress:
Clothes, obviously.
What do I wear on a daily basis?
Clothes.
Hmmm? Am I expected to go out stark naked now? Though I have the urge to retort with a quick “Keep dreaming, mate”, I can’t help but feel suspicious about why you’d want to see otherwise.
In terms of dress choice, I personally prefer to dress simply but smartly.
That is what I would say, if I were a highstrung and stereotypical Brit. ( I mean, you all probably know it, and you all probably thought of it. "Fitted clothing", "scruffy hair", "drinks like a bloody Irishman", "swears like a sailor", and "swims and bathes in tea whilst laughing at the sad bastards down the lane from the safe view of his castle window." Because Brits are viewed as such nice and caring bastards like that; aren't they? Oh, but luv, you forgot that we also kick puppies out into the cold on winter days and 'guffaw' as they slowly turn over and freeze to death on the pavement.
Silly you, how could you have forgotten?)
A white shirt and a vest for me would be more preferable than a heavy coat or… being stark. Honestly, I have never really thought long and hard about my style of dressing. Personally, I’ve always believed that comfort should be placed over style in terms of importance. If the event is important, then I'll agree to dress formally. But what is the point of going all out if the only place you are planning on going to is a pub? People will be too pissed to even notice what their payment added up to, let alone what one is wearing. So in that scenario, anything goes really.
Though good luck in keeping those personally fitted and tailored pants clean from the vomit of the drunkards.
You'll probably be needing it.
Orientation: Why would you want to know?
Oh. Attracted already, hmmm?
Alright, I'll bite.
Yours truly is pansexual.
No, it's not being sexually attracted or aroused by kitchen utensils or implements.
When they say don't bang the pans, I highly doubt they mean it in that way.
Instead, have a definition from a book; you can read, can't you?
Here:
Pansexuality (sometimes referred to as omnisexuality[1]) is a sexual orientation characterized by the potential for aesthetic attraction, romantic love and/or sexual desire for people regardless of their gender identity or biological sex. This includes potential attraction to people who do not fit into the gender binary of male/female implied by bisexual attraction. Pansexuality is sometimes described as the capacity to love a person romantically irrespective of gender. Some pansexuals also assert that gender and sex are meaningless to them. The word pansexual is derived from the Greek prefix pan-, meaning "all".
The adjective pansexual may also be applied to organizations or events. In this context, the term usually indicates an openness to the involvement of people of all genders and sexual orientations in said organization/event, not that everyone involved is, or should be, themselves pansexual.
Personally, I believe anything can be banged loved; no matter what or who it is. Whether it be male, female, inbetween, plant, or whatever, it doesn't really matter. The main difference between those bi-folk and me though are, they go after two genders. Bi, from definition, means containing or relating to two. So, we have bicubic, binocular, bicentennial, and bi one; take one.
Oh... Scratch out the last.
The latter was a horrid attempt at being witty.
But as a pansexual, I go after personality. Now for this reason, I'm called gender-blind by some friends. Meaning, if you don't bore me to death or have the character of sandpaper, then maybe you stand a chance at hitting it off. That doesn't mean I have no taste though, don't even go there. (At least, I believe I have rather good taste. )
Personally, I do enjoy flirting overall though; especially in bars and pubs. It's a great way to release steam or relax from the strain of being surrounded by uptight gits. So if I flirt with a few lads and ladies, don't be shocked. It's all harmless fun anyway. And besides, if all else fails...
These little buggers are cheap to buy.
They're quite cute as well, if I do say so myself. Other Notes:   PERSONALITY: Twenty-five Overall Personality:
A young and laidback lad, Christopher has the work ethics of an eternally drunken college student. Hailing from the country of Great Britain, the twenty-five-year-old is the younger brother of two siblings. He has quite a good ability to invent which comes as a result of tinkering and disassembling any object he could get his hands on when he was younger. When exposed to the horrid and sadistic thing known as paperwork and research, he will also do his very best to complete it as quickly as possible for the sake of being able to get to the pub before the night ends. Even when working in the morning, he’s prone to slacking and procrastinating if he doesn’t find what he’s doing as worth a shite. He’s fond of drinking, flirting, partying, and being right (the latter because he truly loves having bragging rights over people). Chris is extremely sarcastic, to the point where it’s actually pretty hard to tell when the things he says are genuine or not.
Have you ever met that person whose ‘compliments’ sound strangely like they may have offensive undertones?
Yeah, he’s pretty much like that.
Christopher is blunt in what he says, with the habit of saying things exactly as they appear to be. In other words, “he calls them like he sees them.” Because of this, he tends to have little to no tact in what he says. He’s arrogant and self-centered, owing to his opinion of himself being the greatest genius in the whole sea of barmpots that he’s surrounded by. When attempting to be persuasive, he can actually be very articulate and eloquent (though he does try to hide the information in normal situations by looking like a lazy git who can’t go through a sentence without saying ‘bloody’ or ‘idiot’). He’s passive in the face of death or pain, but does occasionally feel guilt when it comes to the people that his brother and he directly and indirectly respectively dictate upon. He has a morbid(to the point of being cruel) sense of humour and a snarky personality, often speaking in quips and comments containing brutal sarcasm and irony. He often finds faults in what others do as a result of his pride and abnormally high expectations of the people around him, further distancing himself from making long-lasting friendships and relationships. He’s extremely cynical, believing that people are motivated by self-interest and as such are all hypocritical wankers. He can also become volatile and moody, with a habit of snapping out of the blue if he isn’t happy with how things are working out.
Though he has high expectations of others in terms of their work and overall demeanor, he’s lackadaisical and apathetic in terms of his own work (unless compelled to do so). He’s impatient when things aren’t done fast and made more irritable when they don’t exceed his (abnormally high) expectations of them, though he does snap when people hover, rush or watch over him when in the opposite scenario. He tends to be skeptical of excuses and people, though he commonly makes these false ‘half-truths’ and reasons himself.
As you probably could guess, the greatest way to describe the Brit is being a hypocritical asshole.
Being fair, he does have good traits going on for him. For example, he’s innovative and resourceful when it comes to building. As a result, he make a good strategist (albeit a very impulsive one at times). To some, his snarky and eccentric personality may be refreshing to see and interesting to experience. If you can manage to form a relationship with him in terms or friendship, then you’ll see that he can be loyal in his own…strange… way. Though he still taunts and mocks them for his own entertainment, he does try to please the people he becomes attached to.
When he’s in the mood, he does try to be more open and friendly (though his definition of friendly still goes along the lines of playful insults and being overall still an arse) to the people he finds amusing or interesting.
But if you try to form a more intimate relationship with him, you may get a different reaction than what was expected. If done for fun (eg. Flirting), he will be playful and but enthusiastic. If it develops into more than that, he will grow colder and more brash than usual. He’s suspicious of the latter because, well... When you're in war, there's no person you can really trust. Right? He’s bitter about some past experiences and often drinks in order to forget about it, the stress, and the burden placed upon his shoulders, so that shows how well he took it before; right? He’s prone to mumbling around the people that show genuine concern for him, making it appear that he actually loathes them to those who don’t know him.
He often speaks in British slang as a result of mainly communing and talking with his fellow guerillas, though he can speak more formally when absolutely necessary. He was raised with formal speech, resulting in him sometimes reverting back to his old ways of speaking. Interestingly enough, he was the youngest among his fellow revolutionaries and also the most inexperienced. While his brother learned how to fight with a sword before joining the revolution, Chris mainly stayed at home and invented. But by doing so, he became more flexible and adept when it came to technology.
He’s actually quite a good shot when necessary, though he hasn’t really been driven to such a scenario yet while in Silverhollow.
Able to use rifles and some types of guns, Chris isn’t just the little, secluded boy he was when he was younger.
-----------------
Strangely enough though, he held no animosity for his sibling during the rebellion. Though he's the younger of the two, he's never felt the need to have the prove himself. Perhaps it was his already swelling ego?
Maybe.
When asked about if he felt jealous about his sibling and his controversy ( it was said by some that his brother worked harder because he fought in close combat ), Chris merely replied in his usual snarky tone.
" No, not really. I mean, if the git wants to go kill himself in close combat, how's that my problem? But if you'll excuse me, I'll just be standing here and shooting my mark in the vital regions now; Alright, mate?"
Though the two tend to argue though, their relationship is still rather strong. After all, they say that the time you learn to know each other the best is when you fight on the field of battle. At one point during the Pauper's rebellion, they became known as the "Yin and Yang" by their allies (from the ancient chinese concept that one of their companions told them about. It was meant to be a joke, but it managed to stick.) or the "Revolutionary Duo" by the public.
His brother, with his quick blade, became known as the "Yang (White)". Yang represented fire and hope, something Reagan gave to his troops in times of war. He on the other hand became the "Yin (Black)". Yin represented the ice, dark, and shadows, cold and passive in its essence. Yang spread out and brought others into its light; Yin contracted and crushed, pushing others away. The life of a sniper, his role in the revolution, stated that he worked in the darkness. A sniper shot from far away, taking down opponents without facing them head on. It wasn't much of an honourable job, but there wasn't really much point to honor in death.
But, it also had another meaning to it.
While Yang stood for peace and serenity, it also stood for destruction and disintegration. Yin on the other hand stood for creation.
His brother's judgement would lead to the deaths of many people.
But his judgement would lead to the invention of something new, something useable, and something alive.
Complete bullocks, really. The whole thing was meant to be a joke to scare off the British nobles.
But it made sense not really.
*For this reason, letters between the two brothers are signed with either 'White' or 'Black'.
Besides, it's not like anyone in the City knew about his background. When he came to Silverhollow, he merely stated that he was a simple envoy and scientist. There was no point in saying " Hey, guys! I'm a revolutionary and/or killer! Now, go kill me off!"
And when people did get suspicious or catch word, he'd just have to act like he was too drunk or lazy to figure out how a gun worked.
Likes: (at least 4) [Drinking]
There are a million and one reasons that he loves this.
But none of them are completely logical.
The Brit is fond of alcohol because of the relaxing effect it has. You see, alcohol is a depressant. When one takes it, the liquor or beverage has an effect on the human brain by slowing down its functions and process. This creates a sensation of comfort and mental repose. Alcohol is also a powerful and potent legal hallucinogenic drug. By taking the alcohol, it masks any former traumas or heartbreaks experienced in the past. It acts an escape route not only from reality but also from the pain that may have haunted one so.
Now for the less… meaningful reasons.
Alcohol, to the Brit, just tastes so good. He enjoys the taste of it and as a result likes to spoil himself by taking pint after pint until he’s completely and totally arseholed (drunk). Also, you have to admit that it can make the most boring git in the world seem decent. When one is drunk, it makes for some humorous and entertaining events that one would normally not even be caught dead doing while sober. Have you ever seen an abstinent man dance on top of the tables with all his clothes off?
Alcohol also has its wonderful, wonderful stages to enjoy (and not remember the next day). First, you feel relaxed; then as you gulp down more and more you grow more excitable and energized. As your body begins to adjust to the alcohol, your excitement gradually slows a tad bit down and then everything is bloody hilarious for you. See that man who just tripped on his own foot? Hysterical! See the two rowdy eejits break out into a drunken brawl? Riotous!
And that old man drinking light beer?
What a sad excuse for a human being.
Next, you begin to grow quite aware and as a result self-conscious over that pathetic little image you’re projecting. But that feeling is short-lived because soon, you’ll grow to be pissed to the point of falling over without even attempting to walk (which of course, you’ll find funny). You begin waffling and yakking about your dead dog and your unimportant childhood to the point where someone has to gag you; then you’re thrown out into the streets for rude misconduct in a sea of other chaps arseholed out of their minds (as if they’ll remember it an hour later.) You then attempt to journey back home where you fall unconscious at the nearest crossing and wake up robbed off your money, clothes, and possibly even virginity.
Rinse, repeat, and do it again the next night.
[Flirting]
Now, flirting.
Why do people like doing so?
Well, because it’s a blast, of course. There is a science to romance, you know. There was a book on it, but no one could be arsed to actually pull it out of their shelves and read it.
Flirting is something that human beings are programmed to do. They flirt so that their lonely and isolated little genes can hit it off with a partner and so their genomes can survive to live another generation. It’s a way of reproducing and populating the earth with both decent men and barmpots alike. For the latter, they normally live in small little hordes on the western side of Europe bordered by Belgium and Luxembourg to the north; Germany, Switzerland, and Italy to the east; and the Atlantic ocean to the west. But worry not, just allow them to inbreed and grow and they’ll eventually kill one another off.
“Before you claim, whether single or married, that you never flirt, bear in mind that it's not just talk we're dealing with here. It's gestures, stance, eye movement. Notice how you lean forward to the person you're talking to and tip up your heels? Notice the quick little eyebrow raise you make, the sidelong glance coupled with the weak smile you give, the slightly sustained gaze you offer? If you're a woman, do you feel your head tilting to the side a bit, exposing either your soft, sensuous neck or, looking at it another way, your jugular? If you're a guy, are you keeping your body in an open, come-on-attack-me position, arms positioned to draw the eye to your impressive lower abdomen?
Scientists call all these little acts "contact-readiness" cues, because they indicate, nonverbally, that you're prepared for physical engagement. (More general body language is known as "nonverbal leakage." Deep in their souls, all scientists are poets.) These cues are a crucial part of what's known in human-ethology circles as the "heterosexual relationship initiation process" and elsewhere, often on the selfsame college campuses, as "coming on to someone." In primal terms, they're physical signals that you don't intend to dominate, nor do you intend to flee--both useful messages potential mates need to send before they can proceed to that awkward talking phase. They're the opening line, so to speak, for the opening line.” (Belinda Luscombe)
Yes, that awkward little talking phase where you tell your potential partner that your dog smells like salami or you live in your parent’s basement. Good luck with that. But from what we can see, human truly are compelled by nature to flirt. And why should we go against our natures?
[Languages]
Zeta's modes were originally given Russian names to be original.
Too bad no one could pronounce them.
[Being right.]
Because bragging rights are always a blast to have, aren't they? Dislikes: (at least 4)
[Interruptions]
Have you ever had this awesome idea only to have some stupid git interrupt you with a “ But wait! What about--?” Then you probably know exactly how Chris feel about being interrupted. An average conversation goes like this:
Our favourite asshole: And then, we can install this here, here and here for the sole reason that they seem like very good spots to insert them in, thus helping in-
Person 1: But what do we do about the next part? What happens then? Are we going to work on that?
Our favourite asshole: I was just getting to that.
Person 1: Oh. Err… Sorry for the interruption. You don’t mind, do you?
Our favourite asshole: …
Person 1: Sir?
Our favourite asshole: Why, I’m afraid I don’t feel like talking anymore. Would you like to explain the rest of what we shall do?
Person 1: … but I don’t know what’s next.
Our favourite asshole: Exactly. Now respectfully I say to you, shut it or sod off.
[Masquerades and Masks]
For reasons soon to be explained in fears, Chris loathes masks with a fiery passion. They remind him of things related to the occult, such as the damned pastors that would approach his house every night for lord knows what reasons.
Though he'll never admit it aloud, he freezes on the spot when he sees them. Depending on how may of them there are or not, he'll panic and react. So if an attacker of his is wearing a venetian mask in the middle of nowhere, the guy is screwed.
*Well in terms of masquerade balls, good luck in getting him to go. If you force him, he probably eventually will. But early warning, he won't be very happy.
On the contrary, he'll be as paranoid as a fugitive in a police convention.
[Killjoys]
But don't we all?
[Smartasses (except for himself)]
-Though admittedly he finds them a ton better than killjoys.
-And he does enjoy a smartass comment from others once in a while.
[Wimps who allow themselves to be used and hypocrites]
[Overtime]
Oh, come on.
This has to be understandable.
When one goes on overtime, one has less time to go to parties and get pissed. When one has less time to get pissed, one will become pissed off. When one is pissed off, everyone nearby will hear about it.
When it comes to inventing, he prefers to work at his own pace. But when it comes to researching, paper work, and meetings, he'll attempt to squeeze out of it or accomplish the task as quickly as humanly possible (even if its quality is absolutely craptastic).
Likes and Dislikes: Summary
“Hello, missus~” the Briton purred slyly, brushing back his hair “ is it just you, or is it getting hotter in here?“ Watching as the group of girls giggled bashfully, the young man turned to face his companion. “ And that, lad, is how you do it.”
“Chris, we came here to work. Not flirt with women. And can you please refrain from flirting with the prostitutes? Not only are you encouraging them, but that’s picking from the bottom of the barrel right there.”
“What?” he grinned, “It’s their job, mate; don’t get your knickers in a twist. ‘Sides I’m just giving the slags what they signed up for. Now, here’s something I’ve been dying to ask you.” Leaning back, the Englishman yawned. “What’s your type, lad? Ya’ like the cute, bright-eyed and bushytailed ones? Or do ya’ prefer the sexy, more voluptuous ones? Hmm..? Maybe the more adventurous men fit your tastes? The shyer, puppy-like ones? Spit it out, lad! You can’t tell me you don’t swing for any of ‘em.”
“ I don’t think this is the right place to talk about this—“
“Wanker.”
“What?”
“Nothing,” he said lightly, “ But really. This is a bloody pub; can’t get more informal than that.”
“… That depends. Are we talking about that kind of like…? Or just… like?
“ … Would you like to be more bloody specific?” he frowned, “Remember, I’m not a mind reader. And, I don’t speak ‘hopeless.’”
“…”
“ Ok, mate,” the Briton smirked, placing his feet on top of the bar’s shiny brown table, “ I’ll start it off. If you’re too much of a big girl's blouse (coward) to talk about what you find attractive in a little bird, then tell me what you like. It’s not so hard, and I think even your incompetent brain can manage.
Do you like light beer or hard beer?
Do you like drinking?
Do you like breathing?
I’m sure even you can’t cock-up on something as simple this.”
“For example: personally, I like watching those who can play their cards right.” he smiled, grabbing the pint of heaven placed with a loud thump at his feet“ ‘Specially those with that professional air to them. Always a pleasure seeing someone who isn’t a barmpot or a git. Next, I like drinking. Hard beer, light beer, vodka, whiskey, ale, anything with alcohol in it is good enough for me. Call me a drunkard if you will, but I’ll die a happy drunk. Yes, yes, you’ll probably give me that shite about my kidneys and liver and all that other bollocks, but do I look like I really give a damn? I’ve been holding my liquor even before you were born, lad. “
“ Sir… I’m two-years-older than you.”
“ And you think I give a crap? Well done, lad, you counted properly. You must be absolutely chuffed.
Would you like a prize now?
Perhaps some candy and a bottle of warm milk?
Now, where was I before your rudely interrupted me?
Oh, yes.
Drinking.
Alcohol is the gift from whatever gods may exist up there. Without it, we’d all be illiterate cavemen flinging rocks at one another. Why? Because I said so. Do you follow?
Besides, it’s like what the Irish say:
‘When we drink, we get drunk. When we get drunk, we fall asleep. When we fall asleep, we commit no sin. When we commit no sin, we go to Heaven. So, let's all get drunk and go to heaven.’
Total duffers those gits are, but at least they got something right.
Now, let’s see if they can pull their heads out of their barrels, then maybe we’ll talk.”
“Next,” he continued, “ I’ve always been fond of other languages. You know, English, Russian, Greek, the like. Except French, no,
I’ve never been compelled to learn that.
Language of the sweaty, unwashed, and cowardly muppets, it is. Next you’ll be telling me to try speaking Irish.
In particular, I found Russian to sound very interesting. You know, I had a dear, dear friend from Russia back in jolly ol’ England. She brought me so much joy and pleasure that I could never get enough!
Her name was vodka.
And she was much better company than you.
Though, really, I did know someone from there and that’s where I got the names for Zeta’s modes. Though the idea did sound better on paper or discussed with a real Russian. Would you like to try pronouncing emotsiĭ without sounding like you’re being possessed by some unknown demonic spirit from the blazes of hell? I just use the English versions but still, it would sound much more impressive if the Russian names were spoken.
But if I wanted to sound like a dying cat gagging on my own tongue, I would learn French. “
“Furthermore,” he grinned, “I do enjoy flirting very, very much as—
“ Well, what don’t you like?”
Pausing from the sudden question, the Briton frowned. “I beg your pardon?” he asked “What don’t I like?”
“Well, quite frankly I’m not fond of people who interrupt me while I’m talking, mate. That’s a good start.
I’d like to be able to finish what I’m saying before someone else interjects with another opinion.
But since we’ve reached this topic, I see no point in holding it off any longer. The things I’m not fond off aside from that are masquerades and masks. Creepy little buggers, yeah? I’ll tell you about it some other time.
I also don’t enjoy having to do overtime*ahem*.
It gets in the way of my free time to drink and party as well it makes me a very irritable little Briton. I mean, I go to the bar to relax, drink, and flirt with women.
Not to babysit the weapon of ultimate destruction or a nancy-boy who can’t even take light beer without getting pissed.
Now, can we wrap this up?
Those dollymops over there are getting impatient, and if you aren’t going to be entertaining company then I may as well try my luck with them.”
Aspirations-He wants to be... the very best. That no one ever was.
-[His brother wanted to use his ideals to make Britain the beautiful and magical place that they always wanted it to be when they were children.
He just wanted it to survive. But his brother turned out to be a tool, so now it's his job to ensure Britain's safety. One can't be too hasty though. First, he needs to make sure that the City doesn't mess around with his plans or attack his lovely country before they manage to overthrow the new, shiny puppet. The last thing he needs is Goldsbloom, Silverhollow, or Whitestag breathing down their necks.]
-[He'd like to find out about what happened to their mum and dad, though quite honestly he can't say he really cares about them.
This is rather low on his priority list]
-[He wants to live a life with no regrets and remorse. This is one of the reasons that he drinks and parties so often.]
-[On his deathbed, he wants to be able to brag about being right about anything over someone. One last ego-stroker can't hurt, can it?]
-[ Call it stupid and out of character. But if he can, he'd like to make sure that no other Briton has to die. He's did his fair share of killing his own people... and quite frankly he'd prefer not to do it again. Before they had the nation in their hands, everyone felt like a stranger. But gradually, he grew to see these people as... human beings? You know, beings with faces and souls.
"What do you want?" he was once asked by his brother.
" I want this land to survive... But to survive, we need the people."
"I thought they meant nothing to you."
"I thought so as well."
Any others though? They can all kiss the grave.]
-[Maybe meet up with his childhood friend once more before he dies?... Nah, bollocks.]
Fears-
= Insubordination
= Masquerades and Occult
- Black magic and curses
=His little background story getting out. He'll be skinned alive if it does.
“What is fear?”
Turning to face Zeta, the young Briton frowned.
“Hmmm…? What was that, luv?”
“ I want to know. What is fear?”
“Ah, fear? Why would you want to know that?”
“What is fear?”
“ Alright; alright” Chris muttered, brushing back his hair, “ Let’s see. Fear is an unpleasant emotion caused by the belief that someone or something is dangerous, likely to cause pain, or a threat. You experience it when you are unsure of what is about to occur or feel that you are at a dead end. Fear itself is one of the greatest obstacles a human being experience due to the fact that it exist in everyone. Because of this obstacle, progress is hindered and stopped. Unless someone manages to surpass their fear, they will be as useless as a child locked in a cage in front of a candy store’s cash register trying to do his schoolwork. Fear affects the decisions and actions that humans can make. For example, a man afraid of heights would less likely want to travel by air in comparison to taking a boat. As a result, he would agree to take more time but still manage to feel comfortable by choosing the latter than doing the easier but more traumatizing option of the former. Have you got that?”
“Processing: Negative.”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake, Zeta,” the Brit muttered, ”I’m busy.”
“What is fear?”
“Why in the lord’s good name is this happening today of all days? I have a rendezvous with a fit missus to prepare for… Ok then, fear is caused by misconceptions and misjudgment of a situation. It stops you from thinking logically and sensibly as well limits you from performing as well as you do at other times of better, laxer conditions. It can be real or imaginary, ranging from factors that are scene to factors created from one’s mind out of stress. The body has a fight or flight mechanism as well though located in the form of the sympathetic nervous system that allows one to perform actions normally not capably done in normal scenarios.
For example, your house is on fire. This response allows you to push a refrigerator out of the doorway.“
“Processing information: Fear is an aid?”
“No. As I mentioned earlier, it’s a hindrance. Now, human fear many things: disease, old age, loneliness, insecurity, victimization, ridicule, poverty, death, accident, ghosts, mistakes, inferiority, becoming forgotten, rejection, and the like. Because of these fears, it causes humans to be paranoid. When someone is overly paranoid, they allow good opportunities for development and growth to slip past them. Do you understand now?”
“Concluding: Fear must be deleted.”
“ Exactly. Fear must be removed to grow. But at the same time, one needs fear to know where and how to improve. Without fear, people will form more stupid decisions and actions more easily, which is bad for not only them but us. Their stupidity affects every person in range one way or another.”
“Initiating new inquiry: What is your fear?”
“My fear?” Chris shrugged, “ Oh. My fear is that I may leave you charging all night, thus leading the house to burn down from energy consumption. If that happens, I’ll have to pay for the damage. Again.”
“Concluding: Answer has been rejected.
Reinitiating inquiry: What is your fear?”
“ You’re a stubborn one, are you not?” the Briton frowned, “My fear would have to be insubordination from a certain someone. If one person goes against what I say, she might lead others to think that they can so the same. If that happens, no progress will be done and growth will be hindered. Anarchy spreads like a flame. Once one thing is engulfed by it, the nearby villages and houses will be turned to ash just as soon as the first.
I like having things in order, more or less, though my desk may not look so.
Laugh at me if you’d like, but I fear and dislike masquerades as
well. Those masks that they wear unnerve me greatly, with their permanent smiles or eternal frowns. It makes people look too much like dolls and puppets for my comfort; it begins to seem to unrealistic and unnatural that one can’t help but shiver a bit in his boots. If you’d like, I can show you an example.”
Walking over to a chest, the young Brit dug his hand into its depths. Pulling out a strange multi-coloured object, he winced slightly as a frown tugged gently at his lips.
![]() helfyre.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/masquerade-trifaccia-dipinta-mask.jpg [/img] “Mum and dad were great believers in witchcraft, the occult, and the unseen, so they were very fond of having relics and masks such as these. They found them mysterious and chilling; I found them horrifying enough to wet my pants. Our house was just littered with them, hanging from every wall, nook, and cranny that could have something attached. You can imagine how restful my sleeps were after having to use the bathroom in the middle of the night, yeah? It felt like eyes were staring at you from every corner, just waiting to come and steal your soul away. Occasionally, some pastors would come to our house when “the full moon was high up in the sky”. They would go up to the house and yell with all their breath “ Be gone, evil spirits! Leave the halls of this house and take with you the people inside.” When I was little, it’d scare the living hell out of me. I just expected them to come in a burn the whole place down. Overall, I’m deathly horrified of things related to black magic and curses as well. We once had a nanny who wouldn’t stop waffling about it; as a result, she’d bring in charms and all that other shite to the house to ‘keep misfortune away’. If I believed that our house could not be made any creepier than possible, I was sorely mistaken for she made it much, much worse. Eventually, Reagan and I told her off about it. She didn’t leave too happily and swore to lay a hundred curses on us that would only wear off when we die. Nice woman, non? I’m sure she got the men with that trick all the time.“ Flinging the mask aside, the Brit smiled gently. “Now I think I’ve told you more than you need to know, luv. We’ll have a test about it later, yes? But for now, I’m off to the pub. Yes, Zeta. Again. Would you like to say something about it? Then sod off and do...whatever you do in your free time.” [/blockquote] [/size] Strengths:
-Ability to Invent →
• He’s always enjoyed tinkering with things.
• Even when he was little, he liked disassembling and reassembling trinkets and toys.
• That obviously led to some awkward moments with aunties and uncles though that went along the lines of “ Hey, honey? Have you seen that very, very expensive toy car I gave Chris? All I can find are scrap parts and a miniature Big Ben.”
-Intellect →
• He's intelligent and he bloody knows it.
• That coloured cube shite everyone’s been playing? He can disassemble and reassemble the bloody thing faster than you can move one of the sides.
• He can probably do it with his bloody feet. Wearing a blindfold.
-Zeta →
• For obvious reasons.
-Great company at the pub→
• Ever need someone to laugh at with in a pub? Ever want to try dragging someone out by the legs onto the cobblestone floor? Ever want to try and stop a bloody (literally) catfight between a drunk Brit and a Frenchman/American/any living thing that moves? I don’t know why you’d want to, but you’ve got your man!
• It doesn’t really take a lot of effort to watch him. Leave him be and he’ll eventually blackout. Just make sure to bring him some pants when you come back for him.
• And more alcohol would be nice.
• Need convincing on why you should never drink? Just go pissing with him one and you’ll never want to take a sip again.
• Ever.
-Certainly eccentric, in his own special way→
• Is this a good or bad thing, nobody knows. And quite frankly, nobody really cares.
• He’s British, it’s excusable.
-Loyal to those he actually grows close to→
• Well, loyal meaning he won’t have Zeta rip out your guts any time soon.
• What? Loyalty’s objective, isn’t it?
• And give or take. That’s the closet he’ll get to being nice.
-Sense of humour/Witty → (though you either love it or loathe it)
• Technically, this can be labeled under asshole.
• But those details don’t matter.
• If you’re fine with being insulted and mocked, you’ll love it though.
-Blunt →
• Need someone to tell your kid that Santa doesn’t exist? Need someone to break the news to your son that his pet turtle didn’t actually run away? Need a kind, caring soul to painfully announce that the puppy you found on the road didn’t got to heaven? Then here’s the guy for you!
• Warning; we are not responsible for broken dreams or ruined childhoods.
• Or intense crying.
-Strategist →
• He can probably make a plan on how to murder someone with a sock.
• Yes, along with all the possible holes and flaws in the plot.
• Because in the future, wars shall be fought with socks, hooker boots, and flying food.
• And sticks.
• Because knowing how to kill with these things is such an important skill to survival.
-Innovative
-Resourceful
-Unconventional/Non-conformist
-Skilled at using guns
-Articulate →
• He can be very eloquent when he needs to be.
• But then you see him in the pub and you begin to question his mental state or sanity.
-And you have to admit, he's not boring or dull.
WeaknessesMy flaws? But mistakes are attractive, don't you think?
No?
Well, no one asked for your opinion.
Personality-wise:
-Alcoholic (extremely)
-Arrogant (extremely)
-Blasé in the face of death and pain (unimpressed or indifferent to something because one has experienced or seen it so often before )
-Cynical
-Extremely proud
-Sense of humour
-Jaded
-Volatile (extremely)
-Manipulative ( Then again, isn't everyone?)
-Swears like a sailor (extremely)
-Skeptical
-Violent when drunk (extremely)
-Infertile
-Probably flirts with the lord knows how many people in the span of one week.
-Suspicious
-Impatient
-Hard to please or satisfy
-Irritable (extremely)
-Extremely blunt
-High standards to the point of being unrealistic (extremely)
-Little tact
-Bitter
-Spoiled
-Morbid
-Too laid back/lackadaisical
-Little to no empathy
-Little to no sympathy
-He can't even lift a bloody sword for his life
-He can't spar
-He's a bloody Womaniser. Enough said.
-Cruel in humour
-Sarcastic (extremely)
- British
In relationships: (for fun)
-Tease
-Player
-Unfaithful
In relationships: (reciprocated)
-Cold
-Brash
-Irritable (Yes, it can get worse)
-Defensive
-Overall, quite hard to get along with. ._. But that's not much different from how he normally is.
Habits:
-When he doesn't know an answer to a question or tries to think, he brushes his hair back with his hand. (Then again, he also does this when he flirts; so I guess we can conclude that this is a habit he does very often.)
-If you try to pet him or place your hand on his head, he'll punch you in the shoulder. He doesn't really enjoy physical contact without being warned first.
-He swears. A lot.
He also speaks in British slang.
In particular, he enjoys calling people barmpots (idiots) which isn't actually a swear word but more of goading fun. You can guess that any 'offensive'-seeming british word that comes out of his mouth means idiot.
-He probably drinks more alcohol than a human being has liquid in their body.
- He thinks everyone is an idiot.
Other Notes:   HISTORICAL FACTS: London, England.
Parents:
Isabel Marie Silverhollow- 39, Deceased
A pretty woman with blonde hair and hazel eyes, Isabel was a former duchess in Great Britain before the Great Revolution (also known as the Pauper's Rebellion). She was known for a scar on her palm due to an accident when she was a child. Isabel was supposed to have three children, those being Christopher, Reagan and Allison but the latter died as a result of a miscarriage. Isabel was left with two children, both boys, and her husband. As a result of the earlier stages of the revolution, her mother and father were brutally murdered on February the 3, marking the beginning of the Pauper's rebellion. She enjoyed cooking sweets and tortes before the events of the revolution.
Birthplace: London, England
Nationality: British
Birthdate: February 14
Date of death: unknown
Siblings: Alice Mayenne Hughes, Christine Maryanne Perkins
Adrian Taylor Silverhollow- 45, Deceased
A nobleman of Silverhollow and the husband of Isabel. Accompanied his wife as she fled from her home in Great Britain. Before Isabel, he had many mistresses (and was rumoured to even be seeing young soldier men). In terms of physical appearance, he was rather decent. He had stormy grey eyes and a limp, making him rather scary to meet in an alleyway. He was said to have met Isabel while she was visiting the town. According to him, she dropped her hat while rushing through the crowd. Picking it up quickly and returning it to the the young lady, it was love at first sight for the two of them. Hopelessly infatuated with one another, they would often write and send notes to one another before they married in the spring.
Birthplace: Silverhollow Sector, The City
Birthdate: February 14
Date of death: unknown
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Post by Schwarzen*Adler on Jan 23, 2012 6:56:02 GMT -5
Siblings: Reagan Sebastian Griffith, 29
The former head of the British revolutionaries and older brother of Christopher Griffith. Previously known by his allies and enemies alike for his skill at swordplay and his amazing charisma among his troops, he was the second half of the 'Revolutionary Duo'. He became the self-declared king of Britain after the uprising that shook the land by storm. Currently wary of the rising power known simply as the City, Reagan allowed his brother to depart to Silverhollow in order to form a relation and link between the city and his land. He is currently seeking to form an alliance with any of the three houses in order to avoid future warfare by means of supplying and sending any troops necessary to assist.
Rumour has it that he's willing to bargain with any of the potential heads with as much gold or silver needed.
:
In terms of academics, he was self-taught in many of the things he knew. But before running off with his brother, he was tutored by his butler in such things as manners and speech.
In terms of fighting, he was taught by his older brother Reagan. Reagan would wake him at the ungodly hours of the morning and force him to learn to 'spar' with him until his legs felt like jelly and his body was bruised. Why? Because when Chris first joined the rebellion, he knew absolutely nothing about fighting. The only thing he knew about was military strategies from books, but that wouldn't help if he was dead.
So whacking his younger brother with a stick for weeks, Reagan began his very painful training sessions with his sibling. Eventually, he took the hint and stopped.
"You're hopeless. Can't you do anything? At this rate, you'll die within the first few seconds."
"I can build."
" What can you build?"
" A gun."
Amused by his little sibling's claim, the older brother laughed. How could the child build a gun? Only the British noblemen had access to them! If it was so easy, all of them would have one. " Lad," he jeered, " unless you step up soon, I'll have to send you back home."
"Fine, ya' git. I'll show you.
Better watch your back, if you know what's good for you"
For many nights, Chris practised with the gun he had managed to construct out of the looted weaponry. He would sleep in the morning and rise at evening, training his eyes to adjust to the darkness and the shadows. He would shoot at wild animals as targets and use branches and trees as dummies. He would work until his whole body hurt and his eyes felt like they were growing hazy, all so he could have the right to brag that he was correct.
Even when if felt like he was growing blind, he'd go on and on and on.
Eventually, his training paid off. He became more accurate in his shots, took less time to reload, and gradually began to feel as if the gun was merely an extension of his very arm.
The next day, Reagan was shocked to feel a sharp, stinging pain at the centre of his back. Looking back, he gasped.
His brother was aiming a gun right at him.
" Did you just shoot me, you git?!" he asked breathlessly, obviously dumbfounded.
"They were dummy rounds. You'll live."
From what he soon found out, Chris was horrible at swordplay.
But he could shoot with the skill that could allow them to possibly survive.
History:
(or so he'd have you believe)
“Christopher… Christopher! CHRIS!”
“Bloody hell--What is it, ya’ git?!”
”Got drunk again last night?” a young man frowned, placing a hand on the Brit’s shoulder “You know, at this rate your kidneys will burst from the pure concentration of alcohol in your body… Either that, or your brain will start absorbing the intoxicating liquid and leave you brain dead.”
“ Thanks for the info, really. “ Chris muttered, slamming his head onto the desk, “Now sod off, yeah? My headache’s bad enough, I don’t need your face making it worse. And turn off the light while you’re at it, will ya’? Feels like heaven forgot to turn off that damned spotlight.”
“ Chris,” he muttered, sitting down beside the wasted Englishman, “ You know, you can try and be a bit more… likeable? That way, maybe people will begin approaching you more. Statistics say that people who are more open live longer. And, you know, don’t die alone on their couches wasted beyond belief.”
“Well, I’m not people; now am I?”
“Chris…”
“Mate, I’m a bloody genius. I don’t need their bloody, hypocritical compliments to function. Now if you haven’t got anything to say, I respectfully request that you sod off before I bring in Zeta.”
Hearing a group of passerbys chatter nearby, the young man frowned. “ Were they talking about you?”
“Do I look like I give a rat’s arse?”
“ No, but—“
“Good, we understand each other then.”
“Hey, remember your first day coming here? To Silverhollow?”
“Oh, hell. Lad, don’t start going nostalgic on me now.”
-----------
With an irritable frown, a young Britishman of age twenty-four brushed back his hair. Clicking his tongue, he dug his hands deep into his pockets. From the other side of the room, he could hear the introductions being led by what seemed to be the head of the sector’s scientists. Bunch of waffle it was, he thought. What was the point of having these talks if they’d never actually associate with one another in real life? If he wanted to introduce himself to people, it’d be in a bar.
At least in places like pubs, you could expect better company than Frankenstein and co.
“ …And today, we are proud to say that we have a new member joining us in our search for knowledge…”
“Bollocks,” the young man muttered to himself, fixing the scarf that felt like a snake strangling at his neck. Being shipped all the way from jolly ol’ England, it hadn’t been a very comfortable ride or trip. But hey, what could he do? It was either that or he swim across the bloody Atlantic Ocean.
“Now, Mister Christopher, was it? Would you like to tell us about yourself?”
“No, not really.”
“ Oh, don’t be shy. Go on.”
“I’m not being shy; I just can’t be arsed.”
Hearing a wave of giggling and snickering from the others, the scientist frowned. “ Sir, it is only fair that we know exactly who and what we are dealing with”
“Well,” Chris muttered, mockingly copying the older man’s tone“ It is only fair that I’m allowed to keep this info to myself.”
“Fine. Everyone, this is Mister Christopher Griffith. He comes from England and has been sent here to help us in our technological development. Am I correct?”
“ Yes, you are. And have you heard of it?
It's part of the 'United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland', otherwise known as that awkward little lonely island lying off the coast of Europe. It's also home of possibly one of the world's greatest sexual innuendos for you youngsters, the Big Ben.” Pulling out a tiny object, Chris grinned.
“Sir… is that a--?”
“ Condom? Why, yes it is.
Have you ever used one? I highly doubt that.
You use it when you can actually get a lady interested, mate.
You know what a lady, is right?
Now, you may be wondering why I’ve come here out of all places in existence to work. Honestly, I wonder the same thing too. But my mummy married daddy dearest here, apparently finding one of your men attractive enough to be decent. And I’m sure he had to be, if their genetics spawned me.
Now, I’m sure you may be all expecting a sad sob story about my childhood and background; are you not? Well, ladies and nancies, I don’t have one. Sure, my parents weren’t around much when I was little. When it comes to business, one can hardly ever spare the time to do so. But I compensated with books and studying.
In the process, I became the genius that none of you will ever manage to become. So when mummy and daddy died, I cannot say I felt any strong emotions for their sakes.
I was then sent by the Royal Majesty, the current owner of Britain’s throne, to lend you my assistance. He felt that by coming here, we could ‘strengthen the relations between the two lands and form an unbelievably stable and indestructible alliance'. If he weren’t the king, I would have claimed bullshite on that. Apparently, royalty can make idiotic mistakes as well, who knew? So, god save the queen…. err… or king.
Now, I am not permitted to go back for lord knows how long because, I’ll be damned before I get on that rickety old ship again.
So luckily for you barmpots, I’m still planning on aiding you with whatever assistance I can for the sole reason that I have no other choice. Isn’t that just great?
On that note: if you’ll excuse me, I will now go ahead and get pissed in the nearest pub. If you have any qualms, comments, or things to say, then leave it on my desk and I will pretend to read it.
Thank you and good day to you all.”
-----------
“ You sure made an impression there.”
“Mmm… I suppose I did. The ol’ geezer wasn’t too impressed though. And apparently, I was the first person ever to get a sanction on their very first day. Then again, I can’t really be arsed about it. I knew it was coming the moment I opened my mouth to speak.”
GOSSIP
Gossip, luv? What are things that people know about me? Just let
me....get this drink, and we'll be all set.
Known Facts: (post somethings that everyone knows is true about your character)
[ Christopher was sent all the way from England to the Silverhollow sector. And if he wasn't so damned lazy, maybe he'd actually get somewhere.]
x) Oi! I....am the fittest *hic* bloody bastard ya'll ever meet in your lives. Without me, ya'd all be the equivalent of shite! Shite, I tell ya'! *hic* I made this bloody robot...mech.... thing... and I can make a thousand more of 'em with mah bloody eyes closed and mah arms tied behind my bloody back! *hic* Why? Because I'm a bloody genius, I tell you! Why else would they ship me all the way fr'm bloody England if I wasn't?
The rest of those gits are just jealous, calling me a sad, lazy bastard-- but goddammit, I can kick their bloody arses any day!
Also, luv, I'm not lazy.
I'm storing up potential energy.
.... Oh, I swear to drunk... I'm not god.
[He's amazing company when he's drunk. Christopher would probably be one of the greatest drinking partners you can ever have. ]
x) Oh, you know it, luv.
No one's better.
[He's an asshole]
x) You mean 'Arsehole.'
But yes, yes I am.
Rumours: (what are some rumours going on about your character? Can be true or false) [Christopher drinks out of guilt and remorse. The reason why he always drinks to the point of unconsciousness is an attempt to numb himself from an experience long ago. He crashes into the seat every evening and stays until 4AM in the morning. It's a sad sight to see, watching the Brit stumble and fall, whilst slurring his words and struggling to stand up. Without the help of a companion or friend, the Briton would be unable to even get himself out of the pub in one piece. Picking fights and screaming profanity at anyone who walks by, the intoxicated young man becomes extremely aggressive and a possible danger to anyone nearby.
What's worse is the lack of memory, vomiting and splitting headache that comes the following day.
He says that he doesn’t have an alcohol problem but the evidence states otherwise]
[Christopher wasn't sent by the King of England to Silverhollow. There hadn’t been a queen since the Great Bombing. He was attempting to escape for committing treason against the new heads of the recovering civilisation. Asked to invent a new and powerful weapon that could wipe out any possible threat, Chris hesitantly agreed. It was only when he found out that the one his invention would be experimented on was a child that he packed up his things and fled. The chip created would be able to wipe out any morality or sense, stripping the victim oh his/her humanity. The armour attached would then allow the chip's holder to enter battle. It was to be tested on a young kid in order to cut the expenses. Bringing up the danger and stupidity of the plan, the young scientist rebelled. He could be cruel, but not enough to hurt a child. Threatened with the risk of treason and the death penalty, the young man was at the edge. Escaping at the middle of the night to the nearest harbour, Chris began a new life as a fugitive from the home he had always lived in. Luckily for him, his mum had came from the City ( a place said to be a new rising power). Boarding a boat to the destination, he began to form a plan of escape. If he managed to reach there without dying, he could pose as a rich noble who had been sent as a representative from Her Majesty.]
[Christopher once fell in love with a older girl (by 4 years) when he was eleven. The two of them hit it off well until, the girl had to leave to the Silverhollow sector. Apparently, her family was poor and in need of funds. Declining Chris' offer to give the money, the woman left the day after both were able to admit their feelings for one another.
This then caused the Brit to become erratic, irritable and bitter. Forcing himself to forget about the girl he loved, the young man continued to spiral into self-isolation. One day, he received a letter from his childhood friend. Apparently, she had become pregnant with an older man. Though it was a strange combination, the two genuinely loved each other.
But, this made Chris more spiteful. The girl and he were supposed to have gotten married as soon as he was of age to inherit his parent's riches. Throwing it into a fire, the young Briton cried and cried into his pillow that night.
Nine years later, when he hit the age of 20, he received a letter from the woman he had loved. Along with it was a picture of a smiling young girl. "That should have been mine," he muttered, before going back to his research. Already a rich and high positioned young man, Chris was living the 'big life'. Drinking in pubs every night, sleeping with different women, he did everything that a middle or poor man could only dream of doing.
Sadly, his alcohol problem later caught up with him. At the age of 23, it was found by the doctors that he was infertile. Unable to bear children, he would never be able to really have a family even if he did find another woman.]
Secrets [A duchess of England had managed to live life more or less in the shadows. By marrying a Silverhollow man, she was able to ensure that they could travel and move around constantly. By doing so, the duchess would not be hunted down by the rebels in Britain. Leaving a child in charge of her estate and under the care of her trusted butler, she was able to keep the family’s name even without her own self being put at risk. The child’s butler would always tell young Chris that his parents were off on business trips. He was never told that they were actually hiding from the rebels, at least to preserve what was left of the boy’s innocence. As the young boy grew older, he began to adjust to the ways of politics. He surpassed his parent’s expectations and became a revolutionary along with his older brother Reagan. He would then work for the now ruling human guerillas of Britain as their strategist and later sniper (providing the guns he uses himself) .
Upon the completion of the rebel goal, they were able to overthrow the former queen who had become useless in her rule. His brother and he later became high powers in rank due to the sudden ‘deaths’ of the other leaders and veterans from an unknown man-made 'disaster'.
How ironic.
His brother Reagan became the new head of the human guerillas and later of Britain as a ‘whole’ due to his charisma, whilst Christopher became his unseen strategist and ‘peacekeeper’. Meaning, he pretty much just did all his brother’s dirty work whenever there were riots or other extreme rebellions that arose from the people .
The new ‘ruler’ of Britain then declared himself as being the self-proclaimed king.
His role would be to spread hope and peace to the oppressed people of the now ruinous England while his younger brother worked in the shadows. Ruling as a duo, the two brothers made an attempt to begin a new era for Britain in the form of what seemed to be becoming a new 'age of light'. Underneath them, other rebels and revolutionaries were then assigned spots similar to the old dukes, lords, and counts.
Apparently though the very same people that Reagan hired began to abuse their new 'king'. Growing increasingly irritated, Chris began to see the weakness in his sibling. Eventually, word of the City’s rising power then got out. This began to worry the King Reagan, who believed that the City may be able to overthrow them at the rate they were going. “I’ll do it,” the ambitious Briton (Chris) was said to have declared, “I’ll keep watch. ”
But his allegiance changed when he saw how much of a puppet the king had become. Being a revolutionary before anything, his country had to come before his family and even his life. Swearing to have his head if he managed to royally screw up the country, the young sniper left his brother on a rather bad note. Before he left for Silverhollow, he declared that he would participate and go against his brother in the scenario that another Pauper's Rebellion were to happen.
Chris’ original role was to work as both a scientist and an ambassador/envoy under the orders of the King. Sent over to work for Silverhollow, he was to become a link between the king and the City's heads. Now, he links Britain herself and the City (with his loyalty no longer belonging to the king but his country and her rebels). By doing so, he can ensure that the rising power will not interfere with the evolving and growing power of Great Britain or the possible plans of the revolutionaries. Because of his brother's incompetence, his allegiance now lies completely with Britain and her people and as result, he often communicates and updates the second generation of guerillas in his spare time. ]
[He's not actually as lazy as he seems. It just so happens that if he shows enthusiasm, people will feel threatened by it and clam up. By acting like he can't possibly give a shite, people talk more and think less. When people do that, he has an easier time gathering information from others; thus allowing him to send it back to his fellow comrades via Zeta or mail. In case of important information, he uses Zeta. In less life-changing news, he sends it normally.]
[He's thought about feeding his brother the wrong information to see him tumble and fall; he's pondered whether to attempt to overthrow the elder sibling. He has the resources; he has the intelligence; and the idiot had been nothing but a puppet to his own hired men, hadn't he? But in the end, that just wasn't Chris' style. For the young man, it was easier working in the shadows than in the light. When you were exposed to the light, people could see you plot and plan; and when people saw that, they'd begin to feel scared.
As a revolutionary, he'd have his brother's head if it was necessary. But at that moment, he hoped for his sake that the older brother would shape up.]
[It's not actually impossible to attain Chris' friendship or affection, though it does take rather long.
He shows his care in a bit of a harsh and taunting way, making him unlikable to many. But if you can manage to get past that, then you've made a formidable ally. To the causes he does feel strongly for, he'll be willing to use everything he has to see it through.
Because all's fair in love and war. ]  THE PERSON BEHIND THE SCENES (tell us a bit about yourself) Roleplayer: Lol-Lol-Lol-Lovi(Lovi) otherwise known as le Schwarzen*Adler Years Role-Playing: 5-6 years Contact: PM is still the best~ I try to come on often when possible Other Characters: (do you have any other characters? Name them here) -An idiot hero (Alphred) -The girl who leapt through time. ;D (Jeanne) -Some bird (Zeta) ROLEPLAY SAMPLE The Day of Chris’ Departure to Silverhollow:
“Lad, what are you thinking about?”
Turning to face his older brother, the young sniper frowned. Dressed from head to toe in what could only be described as frills, the new ‘king of Britain’ looked like a total tool.
“ Nothing, mate. Nothing.” he sighed, leaning back, “ Y’know, you look like a right idiot in that get-up, don’t you? Guess that makes sense though. The king’s job always has been ta’ look like a clown, hasn’t it? ” Chuckling bitterly, the Briton looked back out the window.
“ It’s been a while. Y’know… the rebellion and such.“ he mused aloud, “I kind of miss it. No, not the deaths and blood, mind you. But…Nowadays, it’s all politics and shite. Hypocrites come and go through the halls, all with the same goals. They just want ta’ take more of the land for themselves, don’t they? Back in the rebellion days, we fought for a cause. We fought to survive.
We fought.
We rose against them because the royal class was being a horde of royal wankers. But if the same thing happens with this ‘era of change’, I won’t know what to think. Perhaps this is just the people getting comfortable with the new set, but I highly doubt it. Those soldiers you appointed? They do nothing but lounge about and slobber like incoherent barmpots. Gluttinous, corpulent, and with a double-chin bigger than the whole bloody territory itself. With that weight, one of them can probably take up a whole village.
They’re supposed to observe and judge the potential threat of the guest, not eat them.
And now, we’re all just sitting on our arses, waiting for something interesting to come up. I know that stereotype about Brits just sitting pretty and drinking tea with crumpets is bollocks, but it might as well be true by now. The brave heroes and revolutionaries of the Pauper’s rebellion? They’re all getting fat on scones and mini sandwiches.
Might as well throw them into the mud to watch them roll like the pigs they are. I wouldn’t be surprised if they came out snorting and licking each others scraps.” Shaking his head, the young man grimaced. “ Attack each other like a bunch of wild animals over a turkey leg they will, I promise you that. I want to make this place survive, but we need people to do that. Not fat, obese, and sluggish hogs.
You know, I went down ‘ta London today.
Perfect, quaint , little town it is with all its smiling, happy people.
Then you take a turn to the left and see a visitor seeking refuge. Surely Britain will allow any person to enter, yes? It’s facing an era of change after all.
Then what do the soldiers do? They ask for money to allow them to enter. And if they can’t pay up, the poor chap’s beaten on the spot. Looted of the little he has and has the body discarded in some nearby gutter. Bet his family’s going to be in for a shock tonight.”
“Now, I’ve seen my fair share of blood in my days, but even I should say that that’s unnecessary. What happened to Britain for the Brits? What happened to your little ‘ land for the people’ idea? Is it all just bollocks now that you’re heading the show, mate? Now that you’ve acquired a stupid title to make yourself fell better?”
Yes, sire, I shot one of your men flat in the forehead. I’m sure that’s reached the news to you by now. Call it heresy, brand me a traitor, but it had to be done. That wanderer wasn’t an enemy; he could have been a revolutionary like you or me if he had been there at the proper time. Would you have beaten Ada or Marcel like that when they first came in? All because they couldn’t afford to pay for a bloody toll? And even if that toll had been implemented by your highness’ whims, do you know where it went?
Into their loaded pockets to spend on another bloody sandwich.”
Smiling a crooked grin, the sniper lowered his voice.
“They laugh at you when you’re not looking. How many times do I have to tell you that? I should just put you out of your misery right here, right now. Then maybe you’ll leave an impact in history. You’ll be the martyred king who died for his country. Maybe you’re image won’t become as tainted as it’s destined to become that way. Maybe you won’t have the time to make the mistakes that they’ll tell you to do.”
Drawing a hidden revolver from his cloak, the young man pointed it sharply at his brother’s head.
“You’re being used, brother, by the very same people you’ve hired. You’re just a puppet to them that can be replaced with death or another revolution. Whichever comes first. And for how long, mate? How long until they get tired of you? How long ‘til you do something about it? I know you’re not a eejit, not by far. But you might as well be one by the way you’re running the circus. You’ll be dancing like a monkey in their palms soon enough at the rate you’re going at. A puppy licking the hand of the person who gave ‘im milk only to find out it was poisoned to shut him up once and for all.
And for what? To have people who will never respect you find you decent? Is it really worth it?”
“But why am I telling you this?
Long live the King, brother.”
Pulling the trigger, a large bang sounded through the room. Feeling the shockwave pulse through his hand, the sniper’s face was emotionless.
” I’ve been a Briton longer than I’ve been your brother, mate, and a revolutionary before your ‘peacekeeper’.”
Heading towards the door, the sniper smiled dryly.
“Though remember when me I say this.
If you run this country to the ground, the next bullet won’t be a mere blank.”
“Don’t get fat while I’m away, your royal majesty.
I’ll be keeping in touch.”
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Post by Schwarzen*Adler on Mar 27, 2012 3:28:19 GMT -5
MECH-KROVI (Меч крови)
also known as PROJECT ZETA (Zζ)
[It's difficult, it's sad,
it's regrettable, that I want to stop,
and yet I'm not even allowed to do that,
but only keep on losing more and more.
It's too painful, it's too detestable,
it's futile, that I want to erase all,
abandon anything and everything,
fly off, and make an clamorous outcry.] [/color] L O A D I N G D A T A . . . [/center] 01010000011100100110010101110000011000010111001001101001011011100110011100100000011001100110100101101100011001010111001100101110001011100010111000101110
01000001011000110110001101100101011100110111001101101001011011100110011100100000011000110110111101100100011001010010000001100100011000010111010001100001001011100010111000101110
01010011010000110100000101001110010011100100100101001110010001110010111000101110001011100000110100001010010100110100001101000001010011100100111001001001010011100100011100101110001011100010111000101110
01010011010000110100000101001110010011100100100101001110010001110010111000101110001011100000110100001010010100110100001101000001010011100100111001001001010011100100011100101110001011100010111000101110
01010011.01000011.01000001.01001110.01001110.01001001.01001110.01000111.00101110.00101110.00101110.00001101.00001010.01010011.01000011.01000001.01001110.01001110.01001001.01001110.01000111.00101110.00101110.00101110.00101110.
[L O A D I N G H A S B E E N C O M P L E T E D ]
A c c e s s i n g f i l e s . . . .
01001100.01001111.01000001.01000100.01001001.01001110.01000111.00100000.01000011.01001100.01000001.01010011.01010011.00100000.01000100.01000001.01010100.01000001.00101110.00101110.00101110.00101110.(1/-\55 (class):
[PROJECT ZETA] is a new weapon created in order to retaliate any possible threats that come in the way of Silverhollow's rise to power, whether they be in the form of human, metalman or hybrid.
[PROJECT ZETA] also referred to as [ZETA] or the [MECH-KROVI] is a unique innovation surpassed by anything that anyone could have dreamed of or imagined. Made of steel, iron and flesh, [ZETA] is what is known by some as an android--possibly another form of created metal man.
[ZETA], the perfect weapon, has no emotions or soul in order to hold it back from completing its assigned missions. Like any other metal-man, [ZETA] has absolutely no form or sense of humanity. [ZETA] will destroy anything in its way, if given a single command. With one word, [ZETA] can turn from an inactive and passive instrument to a [MACHINE OF WAR].[ZETA] does not [DISOBEY]; [ZETA] cannot [DISOBEY]. Its sole purpose consists of [ITS MISSION] and [ITS ORDERS, nothing else. Its only downside is that with the proper encoding, its loyalty and side can change automatically.
It has no remorse for those it destroys; it has nothing that makes it worth of sympathy. [PROJECT ZETA] is a scrap piece of metal, nothing else and nothing more. [ZETA] is void of any beliefs and independent thoughts; [ZETA]'s memories and former identity has already been dealt with long ago.
A human tool's faith can waver; a normal fleshy being can succumb to disease and hunger. A metal man with no loyalty is suspicious and two-faced. A human-machine reprogrammed is much more efficient, and is easier to dispose of when needed. It has the strength of one made of metal and the obliviousness and easy manipulation of a human, all without the problems of deterioration or betrayal.
[ZETA] was created in order to dispose of any nuisances that may have caught the head's eye, a weapon in times of war, and a tool for both destruction and discipline in the event or chance that it may be necessary.
-------------
[ZETA] is an abomination created by man, and as such cannot be anything else but a mere tool. Its existence has not been released by the public and all news leaked about it has been purposely manipulated and planted. [PROJECT ZETA] is known as a captured and silenced inconvenience that had been terrorizing many for an unknown and unmentioned span of time. If seen or found, it must be delivered to the proper officials for imprisonment.
Do Not, Under Any Circumstances, Try To Reason With It.
It Will Strike Without Warning, If You're Not Careful.
It cannot hunger; it cannot thirst; it cannot love.
It knows neither peace nor war, nor love or hate.
01010111.01000001.01010010.01001110.01001001.01001110.01000111.00101110.00101110.00101110.00101110.00100000.01000001.01001110.00100000.01010101.01001110.01001011.01001110.01001111.01010111.01001110.00100000.01010100.01010010.01000001.01001110.01010011.01001101.01001001.01010011.01010011.01001001.01001111.01001110.00100000.01001001.01010011.00100000.01010000.01000101.01001110.01000101.01010100.01010010.01000001.01010100.01001001.01001110.01000111.00100000.01010100.01001000.01000101.00100000.01010011.01011001.01010011.01010100.01000101.01001101.00100000.
[Project Zeta.... a former human named.... experimented and brainwashed by.....
Still shows hints of old human life.
Faulty weapon must be capitulated and silenced as soon as possible.]
[/color]
01001100.01001111.01000001.01000100.01001001.01001110.01000111.00100000.01010011.01010000.01000101.01000011.01001001.01000101.01010011.00100000.01000100.01000001.01010100.01000001.00101110.00101110.00101110.00101110.[/size] 51* (- ( 1 (- 5 (species): 
[PROJECT ZETA] was fashioned after and based on the major abilities of the sword. So using this knowledge, we can conclude that if [ZETA] were to be labeled under a species, it would more or less be of the ‘sword-type’.
While not really an animal (wouldn't 'sword' be a strange animal? xD), [ZETA] isn’t even a hybrid in the first place.
Onto [ZETA]’s back and connected to it arms, a ring of blades (which can be removed and returned at will) are attached. These are not only designed to be used in times of peril and battle, but can also help with other sorts of things (like slicing through metal and helping cut trees in the very rare occasion that [ZETA] is assigned to do so). With the help of these blades, such tasks can be done more quickly and efficiently. Of course, [ZETA]’s armour is stripped off before being sent out.
Because if people were to see an armour encased weapon of mass destruction, how would they react?
When not in armour though, [ZETA] can pass off slightly more as being a normal human being. In terms of body shape and form, there’s nothing actually strange about it. In fact, the original test subject that was used for [ZETA] was actually only a normal human girl. But although ‘she’ appears to slightly frail and small, [ZETA] actually has quite a good amount of physical strength when it comes to using weapons.
Without these blades, [ZETA]’s abilities and prowess are noticeably diminished and decreased in power. She (from here on out, we shall begin to use female pronouns for ZETA. Being more metal than human, ZETA technically doesn’t have a gender. But in terms of physical appearance and background, ‘she’ could also be an applicable way of referring to the subject. ) is actually dependent on these attachments, to the point of being at the risk of death if caught or attacked without them. Her punches are actually just as weak as a normal human's, with all her strength coming from the metal casings that she's constantly 'enveloped' and protected by.
But on an upside, her speed and agility is made a lot better. Without the heavy metal blades holding and pulling her down, she's able to run and dodge with a lot more finesse than she normally performs with.
You see, the machine was created to take blows for the person or thing it was assigned to protect and defend.
And as a result of that she normally takes more damage than she avoids.
In fact the only thing that stops her from crumbling and sustaining [major] damage is the metal covering that always keeps her safe. Focused more on offense than defense, [ZETA]'s style has always prioritised attack and assault over strategy and evasion. Due to this, the [ultimate weapon]'s way of fighting can become extremely predictable if you figure out the pattern.
This has always been a main flaw for their little weapon. Since her ability to fight was programmed, it was always unnatural and 'practised'. In every fight she went or goes through, there would always be one certain pattern used over and over against a certain opponent; and only when at high risk of dying or losing would [ZETA] change styles and perform something else.
Her human life had never been one of a soldier....
Maybe that flaw could be fixed with the next try....
[/size][/spoiler] 01001100.01001111.01000001.01000100.01001001.01001110.01000111.00100000.01010000.01000101.01010010.01010011.01001111.01001110.01000001.01001100.00100000.01000100.01000001.01010100.01000001.00101110.00101110.00101110.00101110.5Y5-1-(-/\/\ 1\1/-\ /\/\ (- (system name): Throughout the project, the Mech-Krovi has been referred to as many things (the following of which have been listed down for your convenience):
Name: Project Zeta v.1,
also known as the Mech-Krovi or Metalla-Krovi. [/size] 
Responds to the names of:
-PROJECT ZETA
-ZETA
-METALLA-KROVI
-MECH-KROVI
-MECH
Titles:
-METAL BLOOD
-SWORD OF BLOOD
-IRON MAIDEN
-METALLA-KROVI
-MECH-KROVI
-THE SILVERHOLLOW PUPPET
.... Also responds to the name 'MIR'.
This glitch in programming is being worked on as we speak.
[/size] [/spoiler] Owner“Milk it for all it's worth, make sure you get there first
The apple of your eye, the rotten core inside
We all are prisoners, things couldn't get much worse
I've had it up to here; you know your end is near
You had to have it all, well, have you had enough?
You greedy little bastard, you will get what you deserve
When all is said and done, I will be the one
To leave you in your misery and hate what you've become
Intoxicated eyes, no longer live that life
You should have learned by now, I'll burn this whole world down.
I need some peace of mind, no fear of what's behind
You think you've won this fight, you've only lost your mind“[/u] [ZETA] may seem like she's owned by the Silverhollow house...
They may have created her, made her who she is,
but [ZETA] was owned by no one.
She followed their orders, yes, but not because it was initiated by them. She did it because she ‘chose’ to do so. You see, [ZETA] didn't and still doesn’t remember much about her old life.
But that was fine with her.
That old person wasn’t her anyway.
But there is one thing that remained with her throughout all the mental torture used to ‘reprogram’ her. The torture chairs, the white walls? Oh, she could still remember how they had tortured her both physically and mentally! How they had made her forget!
But, they couldn’t block out one thing.
A grudge.
And now all [ZETA] wanted to do was destroy. She wanted to destroy things just like her own life was destroyed, like how her future and the chance at life were taken away. And it just so happened, those were the orders given by those Silverhollow jerks. So happily (or what seems like happiness), she fulfilled their wishes. In a way, they all had the same train of thought.
They both wanted something dead.
They thought that they could control her.
That they could manipulate her to do their bidding.
Hah! They thought she’d be just.like.them.
But she wasn’t, and she would never be.
Oh, those idiots thought she was a brainless little she-devil.
But even she could tell that she’s been given power… Power that those pricks couldn’t stop if she used it against them. And why give it to her? Because they wanted to use her….
But there was no way in the fiery trenches of hell and back she’d allow that!
So for now, she’d keep following like a little brainless slave. At least, until they turned their backs.
In the end, only three houses were left after her work was done. (Removing them all would cause suspicion). Because how else could all the other competition have disappeared? For Silverhollow to become a power, some others had to…. disappear for good.
Still, it would be their turn to face her blade soon. Then, she’d slit their throats, just like she slitted the soft, fleshy ones of the older houses.
(At least, that was what she wanted to do at the moment.)
By the next day, she might be reprogrammed and 'fixed' again to stay 'loyal' to the people who now ordered her around.
But before that happened, would you like to know how they had killed her identity? How they had stripped her off the only thing that had made her what she was.
Bet you do. After all, all humans are sadistic scumbags like that.
So what did they do…?
They placed her in a white room all on her own with a box of crayons and some kind of god-forsaken flip-over board thing.
Of course, she didn’t know that.
She just wanted to escape and figure out what was going on.
Fat chance that would happen though.
So for days, she refused to eat, drink or talk to them. All she’d do was write her name on the walls and draw her mother, the ones those jerks had killed off in that bloody fire, and that kid from before that she had wished to become friends with. She’d draw the happy memories she had watched and had, taunt them with her resilience and how she wouldn’t give up. Day by day, her body grew weaker; but her will was still strong. Over and over, she’d make a mark and note of who she was and who she wanted to be. She’d pour her heart out into the wall and fill it with memories as sweet as honey.
She refused to forget… She wouldn’t let her beat them like that!
And then one day, it was all gone. She woke up after a terror-filled sleep to find the wall as empty and white as before.
All her work and effort at drawing her past and present? Gone.
And she had not a clue why.
So she tried again, only for it to disappear the next day. Growing on her mind, the repetitive pattern began to eat up at her like a starving cannibal. She’d scribble their names and faces… only for it to disappear the next day…and the next day…. and the next day.
Still, she’d keep falling into the trap; she’d keep redrawing the progress she had lost.
But as the crayons ran out of their points and desperation rose, those little memories of hers began to gradually slip away.
What colour was the woman’s hair again?
What colour were the eyes of the boy from before?
What was he always holding?
Who were those people anyway?
Eventually, the faces became little more than a blur and the names always on the tip of her tongue. She began to forget who those people were and how they looked like. The vivid colours and details of her drawings began to decline and fade until nothing left remained…. Until even the drawings seemed like strangers to her.
And you know what? The feeling sickened her to the core.
Then one night (at least, she guessed it was night), she finally cracked. While trying to start, she realized she couldn’t do it.
She couldn’t remember anything at all.
“Who was she always drawing and how did they look like? What was she missing?”
Throwing the crayons at the wall and stomping on their remains, she broke down into a state of blind rage.
The next few days, the scientists found nothing at all on the wall.
Until the final day when only one thing remained.
A note written messily on the wall with the following words:
“ You Win. I Give Up”
01010111 01100001 01110010 01101110 01101001 01101110 01100111 00100000 01010111 01100001 01110010 01101110 01101001 01101110 0110011101010111 01100001 01110010 01101110 01101001 01101110 01100111 00100000 01010111 01100001 01110010 01101110 01101001 01101110 01100111
[WARNING WARNING WARNING WARNING WARNING WARNING WARNING]“Hold me down
(I will live again)
Hold me down
(I will break it in)
Hold me down
(No matter in the end)
Hold me down
You had to have it all, well, have you had enough?
You greedy little bastard, you will get what you deserve
When all is said and done, I will be the one
To leave you in your misery and hate what you've become
Heaven help you
Heaven help you”
[/size] House: For human characters only. Is your character a member of a House? If so, what House? PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION
[Without understanding anything,
you run through the town at night.
Without saying anything to you,
I merely keep on watching.
Some cheap words have been lined up,
but just where is the goal?
The rules are not over there,
but are weakly decaying.]
[/size] Eye Color: Red.
Red eyes that stare into your soul, scanning you for weaknesses and faults.
Red eyes that reflect hatred, wanting to destroy all those that come near.
Red eyes of sadness and melancholy.
Red eyes that reflect psychopathic joy.
Red eyes with a sense of human remorse.
01010010 01100101 01100100 00100000 01100101 01111001 01100101 01110011 00100000 01110100 01101000 01100001 01110100 00100000 01110011 01110100 01100001 01110010 01100101 00100000 01101001 01101110 01110100 01101111 00100000 01111001 01101111 01110101 01110010 00100000 01110011 01101111 01110101 01101100 00101100 00100000 01110011 01100011 01100001 01101110 01101110 01101001 01101110 01100111 00100000 01111001 01101111 01110101 00100000 01100110 01101111 01110010 00100000 01110111 01100101 01100001 01101011 01101110 01100101 01110011 01110011 01100101 01110011 00100000 01100001 01101110 01100100 00100000 01100110 01100001 01110101 01101100 01110100 01110011 00101110 00001101 00001010 01010010 01100101 01100100 00100000 01100101 01111001 01100101 01110011 00100000 01110100 01101000 01100001 01110100 00100000 01110010 01100101 01100110 01101100 01100101 01100011 01110100 00100000 01101000 01100001 01110100 01110010 01100101 01100100 00101100 00100000 01110111 01100001 01101110 01110100 01101001 01101110 01100111 00100000 01110100 01101111 00100000 01100100 01100101 01110011 01110100 01110010 01101111 01111001 00100000 01100001 01101100 00100000 01110100 01101000 01101111 01110011 01100101 00100000 01110100 01101000 01100001 01110100 00100000 01100011 01101111 01101101 01100101 00100000 01101110 01100101 01100001 01110010 00101110 00001101 00001010 01010010 01100101 01100100 00100000 01100101 01111001 01100101 01110011 00100000 01101111 01100110 00100000 01110011 01100001 01100100 01101110 01100101 01110011 01110011 00100000 01100001 01101110 01100100 00100000 01101101 01100101 01101100 01100001 01101110 01100011 01101000 01101111 01101100 01111001 00101110 00100000 00001101 00001010 01010010 01100101 01100100 00100000 01100101 01111001 01100101 01110011 00100000 01110100 01101000 01100001 01110100 00100000 01110010 01100101 01100110 01101100 01100101 01100011 01110100 00100000 01110000 01110011 01111001 01100011 01101000 01101111 01110000 01100001 01110100 01101000 01101001 01100011 00100000 01101010 01101111 01111001 00101110 00001101 00001010 00001101 00001010 01010010 01100101 01100100 00100000 01100101 01111001 01100101 01110011 00100000 01110111 01101001 01110100 01101000 00100000 01100001 00100000 01110011 01100101 01101110 01110011 01100101 00100000 01101111 01100110 00100000 01101000 01110101 01101101 01100001 01101110 00100000 01110010 01100101 01101101 01101111 01110010 01110011 01100101 00101110
Underneath the heavy gaze of the soulless...
What can you see in the blood red light?
[ZETA] has red eyes which grow brighter or duller depending on her mode and programming. One eye is normal and more or less still human looking while the other is covered by a tracker. The former functions conventionally when it comes to vision and is neither special nor lacking in terms of usability while the other is for seeking out metal-men.
The latter also functions as a way to adjust her eyes to seeing things which are far away. It is used to send her data, information, and reveal possible choices as well as inform her about her current state and energy levels. This is one of its more important uses because if not taken heed off, she can be eaten up by her own suit and the power being drained from her body.
Hair Color: Silver.
Height: 5'1 (157 cm).
With her short height, people can easily believe that she's not a threat. Weight: 105lbs. Distinguishing Features: In her physical appearance without armour, the only noticeable things are her hair and eyes. Typical Dress:  
Without her armour, [ZETA] wears a white cloak with blue lining made out of soft cloth. It's long and drapes over her arms and falls a few feet above her legs. Strange notes are attached with unknown writings onto them, each scribbled with an almost unreadable handwriting. Upon closer inspection though, one can make out a few letters such as [Hate], [Blasphemy], [Knowledge], [Deceit].This cloak is worn over a light blue body suit whose main purpose is to preserve the unit's body heat during winter and allows her to move with a faster speed. A metal collar is also clasped around her neck with the emblem of the Silverhollow house engraved onto it. Like a pet or a prisoner, it is there to show that [ZETA] is owned by the scientists, the house and no one else. It also is possibly used to show that she was 'captured' and 'tamed' in the name of the house. Some even think that it's there to help find her in case the unit ever attempts to rebel or escape. Over one of her eyes is also a tracker used to sense the presence via body warmth of any nearby hybrids or humans. It's mode can also be switched to locate metal, but that can only be programmed and adjusted by her creators. [ZETA] cannot actually control many of the parts attached to her, seeing as most of the functions are installed and implanted by the Silverhollow scientists. In order for them to work, she has to be both given the order and wait for confirmation from her superiors. They can control majority of her equipment and skills with the click of a button.
[ZETA]'s armour is still in its prototype stages. Currently, she is only allowed to use it under the permission of her creators and during times of desperation (though she is allowed to practice with it every so often). A blade-like covering encases her legs, their edges sharp and cutting; a wing-like formation of swords protrudes from her back and the sides of her arms. These are detachable at will and can be flung at opponents who are more or less nearby in range. The blue piece attached in the middle of her torso shows how much 'life' is left in the suit. As it begins to run out of life, it will slowly fall apart and leave her in nothing but the blue-body suit.
The main danger of the suit is, it draws on the blood and life of the person when attached. Wires and cables are attached to the skin and injected into the body; thus draining the life and energy of the person when used for a prolonged period of time. This is why, they used a human originally for the experiment. Though [ZETA] has metal parts to toughen up her exterior and amplify the effects of the suit significantly, she's still human enough for her functions to be gravely affected when damaged. If the suit drains enough energy, it can literally suck her inside out.
The streaked, slender body of the child at the strike of midnight,
a hint of blood and sweat intertwine to form a vivid explosion.
Back across the icyness of the stinging metal table, the harsh frostbitten touch creeps up the surface of the skin. Fingers scratching at the layers of the worn, fragile and pale flesh; returning every night to finish off from where it left.
Metallic salt coats the tongue in an oily, sickly fluid; eyes droop heavily under the exhaustion of the wear. The scarlet-tipped spiral of the bittersweet new flavours satisfies the parched throat quickly; body tenses then begins to lax and slump down once again.
Muscles contract alongside the rhythmic flow of heart beat; the laugh of the joker can be heard at the dead of night. Crackling whip runs through the air like lightning; a flash burns the covering of the bare, nude skin.
Spreading upward from hip to back, a bloody tattoo is engraved into the skin.
Convulsing body, have you reached your limit’s end?
As the eyes begin to dilate like a blot of spilled ink, it opens and closes like the blooming, red-rusted rose. Open and close, the flower shuts its timid, soft flaps, until the wind tears and blows it apart.
Touch-me-not, hiding from the public, drooping when touch or shaken; can you remember? Can you remember who you are?
(One, two, three.
So now shall we try to draw the picture on the wall?
Four, Five, Six .
Erase all the flawed mistakes.
Seven, eight and nine.
Watch as nothing can be seen left behind.
But shhh… don’t say a word or all the fun will go and end.
--------------
[Love?]
…Love….
What is Love?
Can one truly say that such a thing exists in real life?
That this ‘Love’ is nothing but a human malfunction?
Love is a virus destroying all your senses and sanity; penetrating through your systems like a blade through butter; leaving not a speck of coherent data behind.
Love is a wrecking ball that cleanses you of reality; love is a corrupter of purity; love is nothing but a joke formed by stupid jesters with no other stories to tell.
Did you know?
Humans feel as if they are flying when they fall in love.
Where will they land, I wonder on and to myself.
But how are they sure that they are not just tumbling into the depths of and endless cliff?
Into the inky darkness of the virus infiltrating their senses.
Kneeling down underneath the thundering, storm-filled sky, the human looks up with absent, hazed up eyes. Those love stories echo through his head, like a curse planted on by a wizard. Discarded love songs begin to mock and jeer and cry.
[ Happily ever after? Don’t be silly.
The only good news is that…
Things can’t get much worse.]
When heartbreak comes, people complain that they are unloved. That they have nothing.
Oh, boo-hoo.
How sad for them.
Then they find another host to suck the blood and life out of.
How nice for them, isn’t it?
[Why does man run on love? Why does man seek to find love? Does he find pleasure in such temporal things? ]
The one-night stand that master raved on and on about? The body will be forgotten as soon as the new day comes. The lady who claimed to give her heart and soul to her beloved? The next day she’ll go out and then meet another man.
True love does not exist in anything but fictional stories; love is as real as unicorns, fairies and that one imaginary friend.
Compassion is something filled with superficial ‘sincerity’; kindness is followed by the stinging pain of a bitten hand.
There is not such thing as a [friendship] without boundaries; there is not such thing as a completely true real idenitity.
No one will ever really truly no you for who you are; no one will real no you at all.
So, keep wishing,
for that one kiss to sweep you away.
Go keep praying,
for that white knight to come and save the day.
It won’t matter,
if you sell your soul and heart to the darkness.
You won’t find the solutions, key and answers anyway.
[ZETA] is asexual and sees no use in any forms of intimate relationships. For her, there is no purpose as love does not truly exist in the world she lives in. She has no carnal urges or wishes and only has the goal to fulfill her mission.
In [BlackVow] mode, she will be willing to commit any act (no matter how morally wrong or strange it may be to normal humans) to ensure her wish is completed. She will be willing to take advantage of, provoke, attack and even assault her enemy until they give in to what she orders from them.
And if that doesn't work?
Then [ZETA] has other ways of acquiring what she wishes.
Her swords had been in need of sharpening for a while, anyway.
[/center] [/spoiler] Other Notes: Things that don’t really fit in anywhere above or something else you think might be important. PERSONALITY
And then I start to talk:
"I will correct everything in this world."
And I try to deceive the cat:
"I will be able to correct everything."
Brandishing an impossible promise,
I indulge in self-satisfaction.
Everybody knows and understands,
so today, too...
[/size][/color] Age:
N/A
[/center][/color] Likes:
*Blades
*The sight of deterioration.
*Pain, due to the feeling of [emotion] caused by it.
*Neutral when it comes to non-annoying and spoiled children. She'll at least hesitate to kill them (possibly a result of her repressed memory)
What are [‘likes’] and [‘loves’] but a faint, cruel trickery of the mind? A way of compensating for what one does not have in order to feel better about themselves? Why do people seek for temporary pleasures when said pleasures can be used against them by the frailest of bystanders? Why do people [love] when they know that nothing will come out of it?
You rip a part of yourself out and give your heart to another, only for them to dump it along the next flooded alley? Then you are left standing in the rain, crying out to the being you believe so [ardently] in and questioning why such things happen in life; but whether or not you scream yourself hoarse you still failed and naught a thing can change that. Not only has your fortress been ripped down and toppled to the ashes…it is now a deserted wasteland of nothing but memories.
Memories that no matter how much you try to claim, will never come back.
You have lost all you had and lost your life in the process; you are left with nothing but an empty, hollow shell. To those who die for those they [love], does that not go against nature itself? Is it not a malfunction or mistake to die for one who would never die for you? So why does man so willingly allow themselves to be killed? Is it for escape?
But there is no escape after oblivion.
It is a new prison of its own.
Why do humans do such a thing?
It truly astounds….
Is it mistaken logic?
An error in the human database?
People claim that the heart is what compels them to do so, but the heart cannot think independently. Is the heart not only a mere vessel that pumps blood? A hollow muscular organ located in the chest with four chambers (namely the atria and ventricles)? The atria does not create thought or emotions, it receives deoxygenated blood from the veins through the right and passes it to the lungs whilst the left receives oxygenated blood from the pulmonary vein. The ventricles are the main chambers that collect and expel blood from the atrium. Neither of these two create independent beliefs; neither of them compel a being to lose their lives.
In fact, do they not supply it by producing the bodily fluid?
One would think that the heart would, if anything, compel them to cling onto life more desperately.
Why do people seek perfection, when such a thing does not exist?
What are humans searching for?
What is ‘perfect’ for them?
What causes the heart to speed up in its beat and the chest to rise? Is that normal for the body to go through?
How can one find the answers to such questions? It is something not comprehendible to one made out of metal, wire and flesh. It is not from lack of effort though… Moreover, it is due to an inability to understand the logic in such an act.
How can anything be perfect if as soon as human touch comes in contact with it, the immaculate becomes tainted with the forbidden juice?
Are humans aware that the ones they care for will never die for them in return? And if you are to lose your life in the process, are you not farther away from them than before?
Perhaps….
+++++++++++
But in terms of the things that [ZETA] or the [MECH-KROVI] finds adequate or bearable, there are quite a few things. For one, she loves the feeling of a blade.
But she doesn’t just love using it.
Although it only happened once in an extremely vital area, she actually enjoys being stabbed. (Luckily for her, it didn’t pierce through her little semblance of a ‘heart’.)
The cold, metallic blade that pierces through her chest, digging deeper and deeper into her system… As it slices through her outer skin layer and into her body, the tissues attempt to seal off the blood vessels around the injured area. Her body reaches a state of frenzy and ecstasy at the sudden shock and rush of the act. It’s not sure how to react; it’s not sure if it’ll survive. A foreign object has drilled through her as if she was made of clay and her circuits feel like they’re going overboard.
If it doesn’t stop… it feels like she’s going to burst.
Like…Like she’s going to explode into a blast of rapture and euphoria.
Further in it goes, a sharp feeling of pain spreads through her mind and form. It’s excruciatingly traumatic, to the point where she’d want to fall to her knees and give in.
But…pain, she thinks to herself, it was something she hadn’t felt in so long.
The hollow muscle begins to beat faster and faster, a wave of adrenaline fills her to the core. A smile tugs at the sides of her lips as her body stiffens and freezes. Down it goes… the world hits slow-motion. Every act is ten times more drawn-out, but also twenty times more agonizing.
But [ZETA] feels no sadness.
All there is is bliss.
A prickle of sweat drops down across her face as the girl laughs, the sound harsh and unpracticed.
She needs more!
More of these [human] emotions.
“Pierce me!” she grins, red eyes flashing with delight, “ Penetrate me to the very core! Dig the blade deeper and deeper until I can’t take it anymore. More force! More force!”
She can’t get enough of it…
She wants more pain to make herself feel human!
Suddenly, there are no more circuits and no more metal.
Just the bitter steel puncturing through her flesh.
01001001011011100110001101101111011011010110100101101110011001110010000001000011011011110110110101101101011000010110111001100100…
A command is then issued and her smile dies down. Expression hard, she places her hands onto the blade and yanks it out. As a last blast of pain fills her, a dry laugh tears itself out of her throat.
“More… “
+++++++++++
“ Affirmative.” she says simply as she is escorted for repairs, “ Target has been annihilated; possible fatal damage sustained.” Red eyes still flashing with a bright light, the Mech-Krovi smiles an almost psychopathic smile.
A few bystanders are shocked at the unnatural move coming from the little weapon. But they would never know.
0100110101101111011100100110010100101110001011100010111000101110
She wanted the pain to consume her….
Dislikes:
Man is a fleshy being, impulsive and gullible in nature. They believe whatever lies they are told and cling onto such in order to feel as if they are actually aware of the things around them. Man falls into an endless desire to be masters of their environment. They seek control and assurance, to the point of seeing and wishing for even the most obvious of false statements to become true . As long as these beings are correct, there is nothing for them to worry about.
Humans are stupid, in that way, and always will be.
They can never accept that fate is and always has been set in stone.
People will live and others will die.
There is no escaping either paths.
It is how it has and always will be.
[ZETA] despises those who cannot see the inevitable conclusions for calculations are always accurate and ever-advancing. For once one has been finalized, it can no longer change. The process will continue and there will be only one possible future. She loathes the blissfully oblivious and the thick-headed arrogance of all beings, even more so those who cling and depend on the falsity that is luck. As a result, she finds gamblers and those who bet to live the lowest scum of the most worthless earth. They are perhaps the worse of all mankind, seeing that they depend every day of their short, pathetic lives on whether fate has claimed them or had mercy for yet another day to pass.
More than that, she hates people with the Hero complex. How pathetic they are! Thinking they can save anyone, let alone everyone! In the world they lived in, nobody could be saved.
Everyone dies.
So to say otherwise, did it mean that they believed they were better than the world? That they could surpass reality? She didn’t know if it was more of a innocent idea or a stupid one. Probably the latter, knowing how humans were.
She believes not in magic or fortune telling, and sees these to be foolish excuses to be fed words of milk and honey. 'Sages' and 'prophets' only feed man with information that they want to hear. How else to they manage to claim and make money out of such a livelihood? If they say something wrong is inevitable or around the horizon, man will deny them and refuse to pay. But if they say something pleasant shall grace their lives such as a love or good fortune, then man will give every last cent to have their prides stroked and heads inflated. Their judgement becomes hazy and they agree to whatever proposal is given no matter how nonsensical or impossible it may be.
But if the teller is smart, they will be able to gain more out of giving vague 'interpretations' of events soon to come. By informing them of possible dangers, a human will pay more to hear how to escape it. They will grow more desperate and proceed to giving all they have in a futile attempt to modify and change reality and fate as they know it.
How selfish they are to think they are the supreme, untainted beings of the universe; how foolish and sad that they actually genuinely believe with all their hearts that that is true. They tell themselves that all the world revolves around them and that every event has a purpose. But what they do not understand is that sometimes, they were just in the wrong place at the wrong time. Their futures do not belong them; any event could have happened to another if they had been either lucky or unlucky even to have been there as well.
Men like to think that they are one of a kind.
But the truth is, their lives are only one in a million.
For every one death, another life takes its place; the same would go vice versa.
Lives are not actually as indispensable as people make them out to be.
[ZETA] despises the colour white. The colour of snow, the mocking shade of her almost-white hair and the colour of the walls in her own personal asylum. One of these days, she swears that she’ll break out and destroy anything with that horrid colour. The symbol of purity? Hah!
More like the representation of hypocrisy.
[ZETA] cannot stand the feeling of flames and the pressure and heat given by the accursed object. For her, flames are things that deserve to be put out. Although flames represent the rebirth of the royal phoenix, they also demand compensation and an equivalent exchange. For one new life to come forth, another had to be put out; for one person inspired by the tongues of fire, another was traumatized and enveloped by the destructive force. She does not know why, but her circuits often become erratic when exposed or close to fire. Her mind functioning will cease and she will be thrown into a state of frenzy and anger.
Previously fluid and planned out moves become jerky and stiffer than her usual performance. Her standards lower drastically and she loses all caution or desire to be subtle. She will attack without warning but without enough skill to do great damage. Damages garnered during such this time often range from light to medium while impairments garnered can reach all time highs. When exposed to fire, her red eyes will dim and haze over, forming a shade similar to a dusty and worn out pink.
Her pupils dilate and her lips form a jagged scowl as she tears apart everything around her. It is not confirmed if it has been noted by her creators, but it is possible that it has been planned. There are some theories that state it could have either been linked to a repressed memory or used as a form of discipline and control. When she starts to 'misbehave' or 'malfunction' in her loyalty, she is placed near a fire in order to constrain her.
When exposing her to a flame, her body will hit one last adrenaline of wrath before slumping down and stopping. After the damage has been done, her legs will give way and she will crash to the ground. Sounds and vision will temporarily cease to function before all her bodily systems crash and begin to go haywire. After this, it is possible to slip her into a straightjacket until her 'timeout' ( which can range from days to week) ends. She is placed in a pure white room and checked on every so often to make sure she isn't causing trouble.
During these hated times, she can do nothing but stare at the faint outlines of scrubbed out crayon marks.
Note;
Any firecausing material can cause this. Examples are:
*bonfires
*chimney fires
* lighters
* torches
* fires created by man
* fires caused by lightning strikes.
Aspirations*Evolution
01010100011011110010000001000111011100100110111101110111
*Revenge
01010100011011110010000001010011011001010110010101101011
*Destruction01010100011011110010000001000100011001010111001101110100011100100110111101111001
[Aspirations…]
01011011010000010111001101110000011010010111001001100001011101000110100101101111011011100111001101011101Such dreams and hopes live only in the naïve, idealistic heads of the humans of flesh and bone.
[Beliefs,]
01011011010000100110010101101100011010010110010101100110011100110010110001011101
[Language,]
0101101101001100011000010110111001100111011101010110000101100111011001010010110001011101
[Culture,]
01011011010000110111010101101100011101000111010101110010011001010010110001011101
[Ideals,]
010110110100100101100100011001010110000101101100011100110010110001011101
[Relationships,]
01011011010100100110010101101100011000010111010001101001011011110110111001110011011010000110100101110000011100110010110001011101
They are all meaningless after death arrives in its pitch-black chariot. For truly, [Death] holds neither prisoners nor guests. It does not bring those who have faded away to a land of serenity and peace after a slow, nostalgic ride through the film rolls of existence; it does not carry the soul through the vivid land of lush emerald and azure as a reward for living better or ‘holier’ lives than others (by which it means they did not kill someone directly or without a sense and thought of subtlety).
[Death] takes no one, for there is no such personified figure such as death. The image created in poetry and fiction is nothing more than a foolish, quixotic [fantasy] thought up by those who could not accept reality. [Death] is neither gentleman nor terrorist, for [Death] is not a sentient being. All that exists after the final gasp for breath is eternal darkness and nothing more. There is no gate, no cloud of light, no staircase, sinners, saints, or beloved. Nothing else exists except for the soundless, depthless void.
For example.
One cannot stop for [Death], for [Death] cannot be found. If that were so, would those who seek to die not already have summoned ‘him’ out of the strength of their foolishly [ardent] desire? The same would go for those who believe in happiness. One cannot ask for happiness because no one can give it; one cannot summon true happiness because no such thing exists. [Death] does not stop for anyone. The world does not revolve around the single, poetic idealist. There is nothing that lies in [eternity] for [eternity] would mean a time with no end. But how could time not end if there us such thing as an end to an hour and an end to a second? [Eternity] is the absence of time, but for it to be gone it must have been there. And how can one tell if it has gone when one cannot see or physically feel or experience it? Do not all things come to an end through deterioration or failure?
The ground does not store these idealistic, utopian fantasies of man; there is not a soul that will remember what identity any lost-one had truly owned before their departure. Tears will be shed for a few mere moments before the grieving family begins to battle over the will and their part of the inheritance; such a world of mockery and irony that humans survive and thrive in. Anyone who has truly lived life will discover there is only one main truth in existence. Only those who have searched for the meaning of life will ever hear the answer that has always been right in front of them.
There is no meaning to life for all souls come from and return to oblivion.
That is the answer.
That is all.
As such, [ZETA] has no ‘aspirations’, or ‘dreams’, as the foolish humans [lovingly] call them. Such fantasies are meant only for the disillusioned, the delusional, and the children.
Her only wish and job is to complete her mission which is to fulfill orders and destroy anything deemed unworthy to live.
Her role is not one of justice or of mercy.
Her only purpose is the destruction of opposition.
It is not a noble or good-one, but [ZETA] had already lost her humanity a long time ago. Besides…to kill and put out the lives of a few strays?
It would make no difference in the long run.
After all, what was the importance of a few lives? Day after day, people perished, suffered and died. They grasped desperately at the light that would lead them to rest and eternal sleep.
To be able to depart so early was more of a blessing than a curse. At least then those who were hungry no longer hungered, as the thirsty no longer thirst.
[Death] led to oblivion, but even nothingness could be better when existence was as futile as the rocks that struggled to cling onto the shore’s sand.
To be made of metal did not mean to be free from the confines of death, something that perhaps [ZETA] felt the human emotion of ‘relief’ for. One could still die if not taken the proper care of.
But, it did mean that she could, with luck, survive long enough to watch them fall and crumble to the ground.
Although some would call a meaningless life, life itself had no meaning anyway. Besides, [ZETA] would just be passed onto the next house or heir and be made a slave of once again. Then they would unleash her onto their next unfortunate enemies, who would then have their allies avenge them and create an endless cycle.
History itself would repeat itself over and over…
But [ZETA] would continue functioning in the same way she had always done.
She would serve loyally for six years before an ‘accident’ befell the house.
Just in time for a new competitor to ‘propose’ a new opportunity to her.
And if someone else bought her… she would work for them without a second thought. For her trade and her life was a thoughtless process based on nothing but programming and data. There were no such things as ‘choices’ and ‘decision’, only what was needed to be done and what has been completed.
The ones who thought that she was in their debt, that she needed them, that they had actually taught her something worth a damn?
She would get back at those people when the time was right.
And it would be her blade and her hands that did the trick.
[PROJECT ZETA] could not care less about the blood that coated and rusted her metallic fingers and joint; and even if it created made an unfading mark for all eternity she would never feel [guilt]. All that mattered to her was that the unfading, scarlet vital fluid belonged to the enemy and the threats…. but most importantly, the human nobility. Then she would see if the blood belonging to the upper class was really as ‘blue’ as people believed.
Strengths:
-Ability with blades and swords.
-Innocent appearance
-Unbias
-Speed
-Lack of Emotions (depending)
-Armour
Weaknesses
-Cannot comprehend emotions or abstract objects
-Wavering loyalty dependent on command or stated of unit
-Loss of childhood
-Lack of Emotions
-Unstable Personality
-Can hardly function without being commanded or ordered
-Commands can be intercepted
Habits and Reprogramming:
- When speaking to people, she has a habit of processing data as they talk. Her eyes will dim in colour as she continues listening to the info they present her; she won't nod or shake her head in reply until all data has been stored and analyzed. Occasionally, she'll mutter seemingly random numbers under her breath when she does not understand or must rethink a certain piece of information.
For example, you attempt to ask her about the things she enjoys. She'll repeat the question and wait for your affirmation on whether that is what you meant or not. She must be sure that what she has understood is accurate. This is for knowledge, once stored and began, cannot be changed. One flaw in data and the whole thought process will be made nulled and void. After that, she'll then proceed to processing it and creating a possible reply to give you. She will come up with many answers but in an unknown process will pick one out from all the others. No one is sure how it works or how the robot decide. Even with all the developments and progress finished and completed, a human consciousness could still not be formed.
That is why they had used a young girl to supply the consciousness of their 'weapon'. After brainwashing and taming her, they were able to remove all former morals and knowledge that she had previously held in her former life. Using that as a blank slate, they then began to teach her their own beliefs and goals. Puppet or not, [ZETA] was to be a weapon of Silverhollow. And known for their power of the mind and intellect, they had to make sure that their creation would be the same. Although they refused to teach her everything they knew (After all, what would happen if she betrayed and used that against them?) they imparted on her enough to be able to survive. Focusing more on fighting ability than moral code, they would be successful only when they created the perfect weapon. Someone with a mind easy enough to manipulate, a body strong enough to function and with nothing left to look back at or regret. Without the things holding her to the earth, she would no longer see herself as human which then leads to another habit of hers. Although she was one in the past, [ZETA] never refers to herself as human. In fact, she doesn’t call herself a metal man either.
For [ZETA], such names are insignificant and temporary; created by selfish humans in order to feel that they actually know what is going on around them. From what she understood, human named things when they wanted to claim it as their property. When they labeled people and objects, it was to say “ This is my Object.” [ZETA] refused to be anyone’s property, wanting to be able to break away from the fools who so greatly thought they had taught her anything. In her opinion, she belonged to no one.
There was no point in claiming things, seeing as both the owner and the claimed would deteriorate or die eventually. Nothing stayed forever, so why bother clinging onto such human ‘necessities’ and desires? There was no such thing as ownership or loyalty, because humans were so forever fickle to the point of discarding and drawing more things under their claims. They constantly wanted more and more, grabbing whatever they could get their greasy little hands on and tainting it to the point of uselessness. They found no appreciation, no sense of gratitude.
Which was perfectly fine with her.
[ZETA] constantly places a hand over the nape of her neck out of an unknown habit. It is said that around that area is a switch that can forcibly change her mode from emotionless to psychotic and vice versa.
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Post by Schwarzen*Adler on Mar 28, 2012 20:23:12 GMT -5
Reprogramming:
[emotsiĭ (эмоций) ](Default)
- The unit's default setting.
-Also referred to as the emotionless or [ColdBlood Mode]
-This mode is characterized by a complete and total lack of emotions regarding incoming events or the lives of others. In this mode, [ZETA] will follow out all orders given to her without a qualm or hesitation. Data is recorded with a normal pace and no obstacles; speech is normal; body levels are stable; breathing is stable; movement is fluid; and the mode easily switches to defensive and offense in a matter of seconds. The unit is protective (albeit, only in a professional level. There is no affection or love in her actions) of those assigned to her and has a one-track-mind in her goals and mission.
She will show warning signs when she is about to attack or switch modes.
STATUS
[Default] -Without Interaction
Courage: Soldier
Expression: Frigid
Diligence: Persistent
Understanding: Calloused
Knowledge: Informed
Links to: All
Warning Signs of Switch: Eyes grows a darker red as body stiffens.
Physically Characterized by: Dull eyes with hardly any light, Paced, toneless speech, Fluid movements, Relaxed hands and fingers, Soft mumbling of numbers, Back upright and face forward; relaxed shoulders, Modulated voice, An almost gliding gait, Soundless or barely audible steps.
Duration: Indefinite
Hostility Levels: Medium to Low (3-6)
Cause: N/A
[krovozhadnost (кровожадность)]
-Referred to as Bloodlust or [BloodBath Mode]
-The unit loses her sanity as she slices and destroys anything in her way. Even if she may have been assigned to protect or help someone, she will refuse and actually possibly harm then in order to spite the ones who gave her the command.
She will lick the blood from her own flesh, that sticks to her blade and that comes from the wounds of her own enemies as she stumble and staggers through the battlefield with a grin on her face. Her eyes widen in pleasure as she becomes more and more gravely injured; her senses go into overdrive as colours, sounds, feelings and taste feel more and more real. As a result, she goes through sensory overload which in turn adds more to her lunacy and insanity.
During [BloodBath Mode] it is best to stay as far away from the unit as possible, as coming close may lead to grave or even life-threatening injuries. Not much info has been gathered on this state of the unit.
STATUS
[Default] -Without Interaction
Courage: Impulsive/Rash
Expression: Unnerving
Diligence: Nonaligned
Understanding: Heartless
Knowledge:Unthinking
Links to:[BlackVow]
Warning Signs of Switch: N/A [latter].
Physically Characterized by: Blood-coloured eyes with a brilliant light, jerking and twitching, a psychotic smile like a ripper's, heavy panting, laughter, giggling, grinning when hit, wildly swinging sword around, many attempts to get in extremely close to the opponent, licks the blood that coats her sword as it 'overflows', loss of connection, no data being run after a huge onslaught that fries her circuits, deathly paleness, widened eyes, dilated pupils, commonly licks her lips, stumbles and falls with a harsh laugh, jagged and uncontrollable movement.
[/color] Duration:Until reprogramming commences. 5-6 hours maximum. Hostility Levels: High (8-9) Cause: As of the moment, only music boxes, flames and a sewing equipment were found to activate this. Extreme pain can also bring it about.[/size][/color]
[садистский] (locked)
-Referred to as Sadist or [BlackVow Mode]
-An effect of BloodBath
A direct result of the former associated with the same characteristics and effects. The main difference between these two modes are, it is said that the [BlackVow] mode is much, much worse. Strangely enough, it has yet to be observed in its full-blown effect. The [BlackVow] mode was created as a result of an unknown cause.
Further info must be gathered and tested for.
STATUS
[Default] -Without Interaction
Courage: --------
Expression: Psychopath
Diligence: Faithless
Understanding: Cold-Blooded
Knowledge:-------
Links to: N/A
Warning Signs of Switch: N/A.
Physically Characterized by: Blood-coloured eyes with a brilliant light, jerking and twitching, a psychotic smile like a ripper's, heavy panting, laughter, giggling, grinning when hit, wildly swinging sword around, many attempts to get in extremely close to the opponent, licks the blood that coats her sword as it 'overflows', loss of connection, no data being run after a huge onslaught that fries her circuits, deathly paleness, widened eyes, dilated pupils, commonly licks her lips, stumbles and falls with a harsh laugh, jagged and uncontrollable movement.
[садистский] (locked)
-Referred to as Sadist or [BlackVow Mode]
-An effect of BloodBath
A direct result of the former associated with the same characteristics and effects. The main difference between these two modes are, it is said that the [BlackVow] mode is much, much worse. Strangely enough, it has yet to be observed in its full-blown effect. The [BlackVow] mode was created as a result of an unknown cause.
Further info must be gathered and tested for.
STATUS
[Default] -Without Interaction
Courage: --------
Expression: Psychopath
Diligence: Faithless
Understanding: Cold-Blooded
Knowledge:-------
Links to: N/A
Warning Signs of Switch: N/A.
Physically Characterized by: Blood-coloured eyes with a brilliant light, jerking and twitching, a psychotic smile like a ripper's, heavy panting, laughter, giggling, grinning when hit, wildly swinging sword around, many attempts to get in extremely close to the opponent, licks the blood that coats her sword as it 'overflows', loss of connection, no data being run after a huge onslaught that fries her circuits, deathly paleness, widened eyes, dilated pupils, commonly licks her lips, stumbles and falls with a harsh laugh, jagged and uncontrollable movement.
Duration:Until reprogramming commences. Until trigger is taken away.
Hostility Levels: High (10)
Cause: Unknown
[ ??] (locked)
Duration:Until reprogramming commences. Until trigger is taken away.
Hostility Levels: High (10)
Cause: Unknown[/color] [/spoiler] Other Notes:--- HISTORICAL FACTS You will be exposed, be shattered,
become rusty, and rot away,
and even the absurd gossips
will be washed away and become truths.
Lies are fine, I don't care,
because we are the correct ones here,
and therefore we will completely crush
your deeply sinful immoralities. Birthplace: Silverhollow.
She was created and awakened there, thus making her birthplace the laboratory.
Parents: [ZETA] Was born and raised by the Silverhollow house.01000111011011110010000001101111011011100010000001100001011011100110010000100000011101000110010101101100011011000010000001101101011001010010000001110100011010000110010100100000011010010110110101110000011011110111001001110100011000010110111001100011011001010010000001101111011001100010000001100110011000010110110101101001011011000111100100101110000011010000101001000111011011110010000001100001011011100110010000100000011101000110010101101100011011000010000001101101011001010010000001110100011010000110010100100000011010010110110101110000011011110111001001110100011000010110111001100011011001010010000001101111011001100010000001101100011010010110011001100101001011100000110100001010010101000110010101101100011011000010000001101101011001010010000001110111011010000111100100100000011010010111010000100111011100110010000001101110011001010110001101100101011100110111001101100001011100100111100100001101000010100111010001101111001000000110001001100101001000000110100001110101011011010110000101101110000011010000101001101001011011100010000001101111011100100110010001100101011100100010000001110100011011110010000001100110011001010110010101101100001011100000110100001010010101110110100001100001011101000010000001101001011100110010000001100001001000000110001001101100011011110110111101100100011011000110100101101110011001010011111100001101000010100100010001101111001000000111000001100101011011110111000001101100011001010010000001110011011010000110000101110010011001010010000001110100011010000110010100100000011100110110000101101101011001010010000001100010011011000110111101101111011001000011111100001101000010100100100101100110001000000110111101101110011001010010000001100010011011000110010101100101011001000111001100101100001000000110010001101111011001010111001100100000011101000110100001100101001000000110111101110100011010000110010101110010001000000110010001101111001000000111001101101111001000000110000101110011001000000111011101100101011011000110110000111111010010010110011000100000011011110110111001100101001000000110110001100001011101010110011101101000011100110010110000100000011001000110111101100101011100110010000001110100011010000110010100100000011011110111010001101000011001010111001000111111000011010000101001000001011100100110010100100000011101000110100001100101011010010111001000100000011001100110000101101001011101000110100001110011001000000110100101101110011101000110010101110010011100110110010101100011011101000110100101101110011001110011111100001101000010100100100101100110001000000110111101101110011001010010000001100011011100100110100101100101011100110010110000100000011101110110100101101100011011000010000001110100011010000110010100100000011011110111010001101000011001010111001000100000011000110111001001111001001000000110000101110011001000000111011101100101011011000110110000111111000011010000101000001101000010100101011101101001011011000110110000100000011000010110111001111001011011110110111001100101001000000110001101110010011110010010000001100110011011110111001000100000011011010110010100111111Siblings: "Go on and tell me the importance of family.
Go and tell me the importance of life.
Tell me why it's necessary
to be human
in order to feel.
What is a bloodline?
Do people share the same blood?
If one bleeds, does the other do so as well?If one laughs, does the other?
Are their faiths intersecting?
If one cries, will the other cry as well?
Will anyone cry for me?"
01000111011011110010000001101111011011100010000001100001011011100110010000100000011101000110010101101100011011000010000001101101011001010010000001110100011010000110010100100000011010010110110101110000011011110111001001110100011000010110111001100011011001010010000001101111011001100010000001100110011000010110110101101001011011000111100100101110000011010000101001000111011011110010000001100001011011100110010000100000011101000110010101101100011011000010000001101101011001010010000001110100011010000110010100100000011010010110110101110000011011110111001001110100011000010110111001100011011001010010000001101111011001100010000001101100011010010110011001100101001011100000110100001010010101000110010101101100011011000010000001101101011001010010000001110111011010000111100100100000011010010111010000100111011100110010000001101110011001010110001101100101011100110111001101100001011100100111100100001101000010100111010001101111001000000110001001100101001000000110100001110101011011010110000101101110000011010000101001101001011011100010000001101111011100100110010001100101011100100010000001110100011011110010000001100110011001010110010101101100001011100000110100001010010101110110100001100001011101000010000001101001011100110010000001100001001000000110001001101100011011110110111101100100011011000110100101101110011001010011111100001101000010100100010001101111001000000111000001100101011011110111000001101100011001010010000001110011011010000110000101110010011001010010000001110100011010000110010100100000011100110110000101101101011001010010000001100010011011000110111101101111011001000011111100001101000010100100100101100110001000000110111101101110011001010010000001100010011011000110010101100101011001000111001100101100001000000110010001101111011001010111001100100000011101000110100001100101001000000110111101110100011010000110010101110010001000000110010001101111001000000111001101101111001000000110000101110011001000000111011101100101011011000110110000111111010010010110011000100000011011110110111001100101001000000110110001100001011101010110011101101000011100110010110000100000011001000110111101100101011100110010000001110100011010000110010100100000011011110111010001101000011001010111001000111111000011010000101001000001011100100110010100100000011101000110100001100101011010010111001000100000011001100110000101101001011101000110100001110011001000000110100101101110011101000110010101110010011100110110010101100011011101000110100101101110011001110011111100001101000010100100100101100110001000000110111101101110011001010010000001100011011100100110100101100101011100110010110000100000011101110110100101101100011011000010000001110100011010000110010100100000011011110111010001101000011001010111001000100000011000110111001001111001001000000110000101110011001000000111011101100101011011000110110000111111000011010000101000001101000010100101011101101001011011000110110000100000011000010110111001111001011011110110111001100101001000000110001101110010011110010010000001100110011011110111001000100000011011010110010100111111
Education: Every skill and thing she has to know has been taught to her by the scientists.
History: 1)/\-1-(- 0|= (1( (- /\-t-10^ (Date of Creation):
PROJECT ZETA was finally completed on the morning of February 17....
She......which led -1-0.... programm1()6....
01000101 01010010 01010010 01001111 01010010 01000101 01010010 01010010 01001111 01010010 01000101 01010010 01010010 01001111 01010010 01000101 01010010 01010010 01001111 01010010 01000101 01010010 01010010 01001111 01010010 01000101 01010010 01010010 01001111 01010010 01000101 01010010 01010010 01001111 01010010 01000101 01010010 01010010 01001111 01010010 01000101 01010010 01010010 01001111 01010010 01000101 01010010 01010010 01001111 01010010 01000101 01010010 01010010 01001111 01010010 01000101 01010010 01010010 01001111 01010010 01000101 01010010 01010010 01001111 01010010 01000101 01010010 01010010 01001111 01010010 01000101 01010010 01010010 01001111 01010010 01000101 01010010 01010010 01001111 01010010 01000101 01010010 01010010 01001111 01010010 01000101 01010010 01010010
A young girl rubbed wearily at her eyes as her guardian pulled her towards a strange house. Compared to the rubble and grime that surrounded their home, it seemed a lot more they could ever afford to live in.
Clinging closely onto her mother’s sleeve, Mir frowned.
“Mama,”she asked softly, “ Where are we going?” Patting the child’s head, the worn out woman smiled.
“ Well, dear. We’re here to ask the house head if he’s willing to give me work. You see, I’m going to offer my services so that we can pay for our home and food. That way, we can afford to get you a decent education as well.
And then, you’ll be able to do more than just scrub floors and clean for a living.
Oh…You’ll be able to find a good husband after I can provide you with the very best. Then, you won’t have to get your pretty hands any more soiled. It’s such a shame and pity that that had to happen. They were such soft hands too.”
“ But, mama,” Mir said, a look of puzzlement on her face, “ I’m used to it. And I don’t need a husband to make me happy. I already have you with me.
Besides, you’re the best seamstress in the Central! Isn’t that good enough?”
With a gentle smile, the woman laughed.
“ Well, thank you, Mir. But I want you to grow up to be happy. And to do that, I have to work.
Also, not many people can afford to buy clothes anymore. With the city falling deeper into depth and division, it’s been hard on all of us. No one can afford to buy clothes or repair old ones, so they wear the same thing over and over until it breaks or get ripped. The material’s cost is getting really high as well.”
“ But mama, if cloth is hard to afford, why do you give clothes to people for free?”
“ Because dear, some things are more important than money. Like, for example, every living creature around you. Their lives are a lot more significant than income or bread.”
“ I guess… But Mama…”she frowned, “ What if he makes you work all day and night? Won’t you be tired?”
“Yes, I might be. But if it will make everything better for our family, then I’ll work until the sun burns out and the stars fall.”
-------------------
Waiting for her mother to finish her talk with the head, the girl sat cosily in a velvet chair. It felt so nice to touch and comforting to lay back in! After all, most of the time she just sat on the hard, stone floor (which although was ok, it was more than a little uncomfortable around the butt). A nice scent filled the room as the walls themselves seemed to sparkle with richness and wealth, pictures decorated the walls in a plethora of fine artistry and colour. Everything was so grand and amasing that, it was hard to believe that someone actually lived there! It seemed more like a paradise than a home…!
As she closed her eyes and began to allow herself to drift off into sleep, the sudden sound of chatter awoke her.
“ Ah?” she gasped, her face turning a light pink, “ Someone’s coming!”
Hiding beneath a nearby table, Mir waited in bated breath. Trembling slightly from a sense of unexpected nervousness, the young girl had no clue what had come over her. Normally, she wasn’t so…awkward at the thought of seeing other people. But… Maybe it was a sense that she didn’t belong there? She wasn’t so sure. It was obvious how different she would be from those who lived there. While she was dirty and muddy, they were probably clean and spotless. While her hands were covered with cuts and bruises, theirs would probably be immaculate.
Her clothes would appear so tattered to them, that they’d probably laugh her out of the house… And she didn’t really want to experience that. At least, not from people she had just met. For her, it was worse to be laughed at by strangers than friends.
At least friends knew you enough to be able to tell when to stop.
Watching intently, the young girl held back a gasp. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw two other children roaming around the house. And although the older one had an interesting air around him, her gaze was mainly locked onto the younger of the two. He seemed so quiet and calm that she just wanted to reach out and talk to him. She wanted to strike up a conversation and be able to put a smile on his sad and timid looking face. After all, she wasn’t much better. And it would be nice to have someone know how it felt.
But every time she’d try to gather the courage, she’d always back out in the end. So she’d watch from the sidelines and the windows whenever her mother would come back and clean. From the windows and the walls, she’d just observe the little, shy child with wide eyes.
Every day until her mother was taken away, she’d watch and wait for him to pop up and hope that maybe he caught her faint wave; and when their house was burned down and her body ready for conversion, she—0111000001110010011000010111100101100101011001000010000001110100011010000110000101110100001000000111001101101000011001010010011101100100001000000000110100001010—be able to see—01101000011010010110110100100000011000100110010101100110011011110111001001100101—her soul was takenaway and---
[/size][/color][/spoiler] [ T h e e n t i t y k n o w n a s [M i r] n o l o n g e r e x i s t s]
01000111011011110110111101100100011000100111100101100101..... It was all on that day.... It started there....GOSSIP
Known Facts: - The unit [ZETA] is a weapon of mass destruction created for the sake of ensuring the safety of the true Silverhollow heir.
- The unit [ZETA] has no sense of sympathy or pity.
- The unit [ZETA] is known as the Frostbitten Wench to some in terms of its reputation. There are many guess and interpretations on the unit's appearance, but the latest one consisted of a young girl at the age 13.
-[ZETA] is taken cared of by a young scientist by the name of Christopher Griffith, an ambitious but extremely cocky British man.
Rumors: - The unit [ZETA] knows nothing but destruction and death; it is incapable of feeling human emotions.
- The unit [ZETA] is responsible for the deaths of the old houses.
- The last thing one will see before death comes is a flash of white.Secrets: (What is something only your character knows?) Ever on and on I continue circling
With nothing but my hate in a carousel of agony
Till slowly I forget and my heart starts vanishing
And suddenly I see that I can't break free—
I'm
Slipping through the cracks of a dark eternity
With nothing but my pain and the paralyzing agony
To tell me who I am, who I was
Uncertainty enveloping my mind
Till I can't break free,
and
Maybe it's a dream; maybe nothing else is real
But it wouldn't mean a thing if I told you how I feel
So I'm tired of all the pain, of the misery inside
And I wish that I could live feeling nothing but the night
You can tell me what to say; you can tell me where to go
But I doubt that I would care, and my heart would never know
If I make another move there'll be no more turning back
Because everything will change, and it all will fade to black
Will tomorrow ever come? Will I make it through the night?
Will there ever be a place for the broken in the light?
Am I hurting? Am I sad? Should I stay, or should I go?
I've forgotten how to tell.
Did I ever even know?
Can I take another step? I've done everything I can
All the people that I see I will never understand
If I find a way to change, if I step into the light
Then I'll never be the same, and it all will fade to white
If I make another move, if I take another step
Then it all would fall apart. There'd be nothing of me left
If I'm crying in the wind, if I'm crying in the night
Will there ever be a way? Will my heart return to white?
Can you tell me who you are? Can you tell me where I am? I've forgotten how to see; I've forgotten if I can
If I opened up my eyes there'd be no more going back
'Cause I'd throw it all away, and it all would fade to black
-[ZETA] is not stable in loyalty. Contrary to what people believe, she's beginning to form her own side (eg. her own self)
-Christopher tries to teach her about living objects and things such as weather and animals when he's not a.wasted beyond the point of coherency or b. distracted or flirting with other women. [ZETA] finds these lessons interesting enough.
-[ZETA] is afraid of fire.
[/size] Better View of Armour THE PERSON BEHIND THE SCENES (tell us a bit about yourself) Roleplayer: Lovi Years Role-Playing: Errr... I don't remember xD Contact: PM~ Other Characters: -An idiot hero -The girl who leapt through time. ;D ROLEPLAY SAMPLE
Thump
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The taste of salty sweat dripped into the woman’s mouth as her eyes widened with an intense fear she had never before experienced so greatly. Feet flying across the charred carpets of the former grandeur house, the noblewoman winced. Her family… Her children… They were all gone. Nothing was left; nothing was spared from the destruction. “Madame!” she heard past the incoming fog beginning to cloud her mind, “ Run! The intruder is breeching! We can hold it off.”
Nodding weakly in reply, the woman rushed on. Hands clasped across her stomach, the woman coughed. With her frail system, she wasn’t sure about how long she could hold on.
“ Madame! It’s he—“
Then, silence.
Looking back warily, the noble woman caught sight of a young girl clad in white. Standing at the door of the hall, the child looked to be a mess. The long hair that covered her eyes and face was unruly and covered with dust. Fallen out of what appeared to be a loose braid, it rested at the sides of her arms.
“Little girl, what are you doing here?” the woman asked aloud, “You must be crazy to have come here at such a time. Where have your parents gone? Were they destroyed with the rest of the sector? I don’t think I have ever seen you around before. Did your family just move?”
….
“Come now, dear. We can come up with something later. But for now, we have to mo—“
“ I’m sorry, miss. But I’m afraid I can’t let you go out of here alive.”
Looking back, the woman turned to see a young scientist in his early twenties enter from behind. Smiling warmly, the British man chuckled. “ Were you in the middle of some thing? Oh, it seems my timing was a tad off. You have my apologies for that but…
Such is life, isn’t it?”
“Now you may be wondering, why this has happened to you of all people. Well, that question is pretty obvious; now isn’t it? Everyone is supposed to die at one point. And it just so happens that the next one on this list was…
You.”
“Now, don’t try doing anything about it; nothing can really help you now. By running, you’ll just add a fruitless chase scene to our situation; now won’t you? And as you can see, I’m in a good mood right now.
You wouldn’t want to ruin that mood, would you?
Nope, I didn’t think so.
Now. I was just in the middle of having a great drink with a pretty woman when all of a sudden, a couple of the higher ups barged in and forced me out. Arrogant little buggers those pricks were, I told them it was my day off…
So they told me to get off my arse and work. Apparently, there was another threat that could ‘bring the whole bloody house down’. “
“ Good lord though,” the man sighed, “ at this rate, a bloody pebble thrown at their window will be a declaration of war.”
“ Anyway, moving on.
The point is you’re not making it out of here today; in fact, no one in this house is.
You understand though, yeah?
‘Orders are orders’ and all that.
Hey, don’t give me that face. I didn’t choose to hunt you down. It’s the higher ups that commanded me to come here, so go complain to them. I’m sure there’ll be a special box in whatever hell exists for grudges like that. Then again, I’ve never been a religious man; so go take your pick. Though word of advice, try not to get on their bad sides next time.
Less work for me would be great and highly appreciated.”
“…..d-do you really think that an arrogant bastard like you can just simply kill me…?”
“Of course not,” the man grinned, “ but she can.” Motioning at the young girl, the scientist sighed contentedly. “ You know, I was assigned to train and take care of that baby right there. Isn’t she a beaut? I don’t know who built her, but I’ll admit the guy had some bloody good skills though, he did.
Found her first in the hall with a bunch of amateur barmpots.
Ha! They tried tying her up in order to bloody control her.
Didn’t work. At all.
So I just told them to let me work my magic on her and do my thing. I’ve always had skills for the ladies, you know. And I showed them who’s boss. Twitched and hit a lot, the girl did. She was as uncooperative as a bloody ox with the strength to match.
But then again, aren’t most women? Only difference is, she doesn’t talk as much as one.
Long story short, I learned to live with her over time. Wasn’t easy but hey, it’s what I was paid to do. Occasionally, I do her repairs and work on her armour when I’ve got time to spare. (And did I mention how bloody costly that shite is? Don’t get me started on that). ”
“Now, Zeta, would you be a dear and put the woman in her place? I’ll be waiting outside.
And you know I don’t like seeing blood and guts all over the room, so try to keep it a tad…cleaner this time. Got it, luv? ”
“Affirmative.”
Approaching the woman, the silver haired girl stepped forward with a hidden blade. Holding it up to the soft flesh of the noble’s neck, not a single change in expression passed over the girl’s face. “Please don’t. Please… No…” begged the woman, “ I can give you anything! Any riches! Any man! Anything at all! Just don’t kill me.”
“Processing request…”
“She’s pretty," the Brit mused aloud, " but I’d rather not go turncoat on a dying house.”
“Request processed.
Initiating deletion.”
With a quick swipe, the young girl completed her command. Slicing the woman’s head off with a single motion, Zeta’s pale hand was drenched in a scarlet red as the mech dropped the knife in triumph. Turning to face the scienitist, the mech-krovi blinked.
“Mission Accomplished. Your thoughts?”
“Good show, luv. I couldn’t have done it better myself.
Now, shall we head out?
I have a pub to get back to.”
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Post by Schwarzen*Adler on Mar 29, 2012 4:47:48 GMT -5
Done~ Now have a happy England.
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Post by cerasri on Mar 29, 2012 19:39:46 GMT -5
D'awww- England looks so happy~ o 3o On another note, Christopher and Zeta look great! Christopher seems like a really interesting character (and I have a fondness for arseholes :'D), and Zeta seems really unique! I can't wait to see how they're played  On that, you can consider them... ACCEPTED |
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