As it stands, I may end up leaving here as soon as The Academy has concluded.
You are accepted, provided you can put out higher quality posts than you've been here (I'm expecting a minimum of 2 paragraphs per post, and I...
For a moment, the Remnant leader was lost in thought, partly because he had not managed to catch the name of the girl, and partly because of a lack of preparation of words. When he had finally come to the face that went with the name, and the words with which to explain his he laid back in his seat, slumping down, in a manner that hinted at a desire for relaxation. Pressing his hands lightly against each other at the fingers, he slithered his words out as craftily as he could manage. “Indeed. The girl is one that embodies a power like none that I’ve yet to feel from anyone. Even the elite graduates of The Academy cannot hold much of a candle to what she has within. But what’s to our advantage is that she is yet to tap into it that power. Her teachers have suppressed it deep within her core. Yes, they know it well; if I could sense it, then they surly would have been able to. Were they to train her, and develop her control over the forces that lay at her beck and call, they could possibly be in possession of the most lethal force in existence. Their mistake will be the wake in which our gain is to be made. WE will unleash her power upon the worlds. And I believe I know how to do it…”
Iyke remained frozen to his spot for several seconds before he managed to pull himself together enough to face the other person in the practice room. When his courage finally came back to him enough for him to stand to fate, he turned slowly, in an about face akin to those he had practiced during band camp. Sitting before him, his arms hanging idly over the edge of a reversed music stand, positioned for use as a table, was none other than his caption head. Ronald Killic, Head of Percussive Arts of the Music Department, and drumline head for the marching band. His blue eyes stared knowingly into Iyke’s through a pair of stylish glasses, as he waved his pencil in an up and down motion between his index and middle fingers. Combing back his short, slick hair with his hand, the Percussion Head got to his feet. Still, he stared at his student intently. Then, to what would have been anyone else’s amazement, Killic cracked a smile at Iyke. But his was feigned expression of happiness, and one that Iyke had learned all too well in the passed two years. When Ronald Killic smiled at someone in that manner, with his mouth twisted and twitching, it meant nothing but punishment for the future. When he finally spoke, it was in the same feigned air of pleasure. “Well Iyke, I suppose you thought causing an uproar as your senior prank was a terribly humorous endeavor. Is that so?” “No, not all Ron man!” Iyke said, trying to smooth talk his way out of the pickle. “It’s Mr. Killic within the walls of this school, Iyke, and especially during school hours. And I trust you know that I’m not just going to let this one go by. Right? “Yeah, Mr. K, I know that.” “Good. Now go drop your drum off in the storage room, and get yourself to your homeroom.” Shocked, and slightly taken aback by the sudden change of heart on the teahcer’s part, Iyke strode away from the practice room, down the hallway towards the band’s storage room. Whatever it was that Killic had planned, it wouldn’t be the most pleasant thing to have happened to him. In fact, he was dead sure that at the end of the day, some part of his body would be sore.
Another year.... In fact, one last year here, and then it's off to college. Damn, where'd all the time go? Iyke strood coolly down the hallway towards his the first of the last high school courses that he would ever go through as a student. His fit, though slightly over weighted form attracted the same usual attention, for the sake of the same usual features that had dominated him since sophomore year. His hair was of a refreshed, darkened jet black, made so from an artificial dye product. Yet it still bore the remaining hints of a former brown coloring, in the form of delicate streaks running out from the top of his head, to the ends of each hair strand, which hung low over he soulders and eyes. Bhind these locks of hair, rest a pair of off purple eyes that had held a calm look to them even when he was a freshman. His attire had also remaind a constant over these years. The garments in question generally consisted of a long sleeved T-shirt, usually of some sort of musical product brand, worn underneatha normal T-shirt, often of a similar nature to the one under it. Due to a general lack of climate change within this part of the world, he leaned more towards wearing shorts, as opposed to pants, and flip-flop sandals as opposed to shoes, unless he were with the band, in which case, he'd be wearing his weathered, beaten, favorite pair of sneakers, which had lasted him over three years so far. THese were kepttucked away in his bag, slung around his shoulders. But that which drew the most attention today was not a part of his normal walk-around set-up. Held onto a harness over his shoulders, rotated up with its head into his chest, was a polished, shining, black marching snare drum. Upon the front of the drum, printed unto a small plaque, was a set of five looping letters, which spelled out the word "PEARL". For the fun of it, and out of the knowledge that the band director had the sense of humor to stand for it if he found out, he lowered the drum down, and removed a single stick from the stick carrier mounted on the side of the drum. He waited for a few moments, and several other students walked passed him, smiling weakly, as they all knew what he was about to do. Raising this lone stick up, he placed it down in a single fluid motion, landing the bead of the stick upon the edge of the head, and the shaft uponthe rim of the drum. The result was a loud, cracking, gunshot-like sound, echoing through the now filling hallway. With any luck, the panic would only be mild, as the rim shot did have a subtle difference from a gubshot. That, and there were apt to be other drummers in the crowd, who would understand that difference, and keep the panic a bay. As soon as the sound had been made, he slipped the stick back into the carrier, and jazz ran down the nearby music department hallway, and into the first open practice room. "Suppose you thought that was terribly funny," said a young, smooth voice from behind him. Dammit!
Oh, and I'll also add in that it's not so much the character, or the Zoid that is quote, "overpowered".
It is defeatable as it is. But if it's going to cause so much trouble to use it, even if it is within the realms of the series, then I'll change it to a Raynos, and fill in a team for her.
Hence why my character is labeled as a mercenary.
Oh, and also, let's give it some time before he and Zhyriad meet. Build up to it, then it can be more epic.
((I ask that The Academy people NOT bring their characters to the Remnant base. The plot needs time to move forward through means other than fighting, and personally, I'm bored of reading about people randomly attacking others, and nothing really coming of it)). What am I? How do I have the power to destroy worlds? Am I, some sort of… monster? Kelly knew nothing of what she had been told by both Zhyriad, and Xignias. Their words seemed to hint towards her being some sort of weapon, a tool of sorts to be used for some purpose. But there was nothing she could recall that pointed towards ever being so powerful that she could waste an entire world on her own. That was preposterous; she was just one person, just Kelly. But the king would have to know something about what they had said of her. The king, or Yen Sid, or even Merlin, or maybe even any of the teachers; they had to know of it. Yet they kept it a secret from her for so long? Could that have been the case? It was all, simply confusing. NO. They were lying. I’m tough, but I could never do something so horrible as destroy an entire world on my own. Only monsters, demons, can do that.
I've no problem with him being a former leader of the darkness, in fact, that gives him good position to have a history with what Zhyriad is,...
That would be like Demyx.
Shottie on Xemnas.
((Keybladewarrior, as co-manager of this RP, and I've already stated my issues, I'm afraid that I must deny YOUR character. Or at least, deny it as it is)).
And one can't simply appear in the meeting room. There are preexisting safeguards ensured to PREVENT that. Unless he knows how to get into through...
As the original creator of the RP, I must say, that I don't approve of the character you just posted up. The Remnants exist only as what remains...
((Time to fall in, Remnants)). Yet another portal through the corridors of eternal darkness opened out for the Remnant leader, who stepped out from its confines gracefully, and powerfully. There he stood upon the highest tower of The Villain’s Vale, again, looking over the world of Radiant Garden. But this time, he had no intention of returning to the bustling town beyond the maw. Instead, he was preparing for the evacuation of himself, and his underlings to their temporary base of operations, a place that he had sought out, and rediscovered in its shambles. It was a crude place, but it was forgotten by most of the people these days. Hence, it made for the perfect place to gather a ragtag team to carry out his needed biddings. His hand rose slightly up into the air, and he began to utter incantations of all sorts under his low breaths. None of them, however, seemed to be working in the slightest, making it all the more difficult for an onlooker to understand what he was attempting. But the interesting thing about it was that he knew exactly what he was doing, and how to do it properly. More incantations slipped out from his now drying lips, and his hand, enveloped by raw darkness, shone a brilliant, mesmerizing purple hue. Still, he uttered his spells, as they would have seemed, and the aura upon his hand lifted off of his hand, and shifted into the form of an orb sitting idly above his palm. “Now!” The orb hurtled up into the higher reaches of the skies at breakneck speed, the energy catching the friction of the air, and the orb burst out in a display to rival that of any fireworks. Now, there sat, lingering on in the skies above the Vale, a shimmering, purple nebula-like formation, gaseous in form, and visible to anyone who looked in its direction. The Dark Star, as those of the darkness knew it, was the secret code for “fall in”. Of course, none who existed in the light were yet aware of this meaning. They would likely think it meant more danger, a notion that played well into Zhyraid’s hands, as he vanished one last time through the dark corridors, and emerged into a world far off from The Academy, or any of their outlets. The world he was now upon was a complete desert, void of any current life, although the scars of a passed vitality certainly showed through the sand blanketed ground at his feet. Off in the distance, the ruins of what had once been a thriving metropolis stood as the single testament to the human achievement upon the world. But the city was not his desired destination. Contrary, his destination was in fact right below his feet, buried underneath the sand. Drawing a deep breath, he pounded his hand, palm first into the earth, a powerful roar echoing out from his voice over the desert. The ground before him caved in briefly, revealing a manhole sized opening into an under ground hideout, once used only by thieves, and crooks of other sorts. A pleased smirk bolting across his face, he jumped down into the hole, as the sand reconfigured itself around the opening, and found himself standing upon the center of a round table, with several seats placed evenly around it. All of these were made from a limestone material, which had been weathered by years of neglect. And one of the chairs set around the table was slightly more extravagant, and decorated than the others. It was this seat that he lowered his body into, the seat of the head, or otherwise, the main speaker of the clan. The others would soon arrive, following the signal, and the instructions on how to enter. They would have to follow his exact instructions too, as the room was enchanted so as to be inaccessible by means other than the main entrance. No teleporting, no portals. A simple, traditional entrance.
How is it god tier?
Okay. My character/Zoid information is completed.
Yeah, so I'm pretty sure I understand what Dark is, and what the notebook is for. And I'm going to say that the use of it must be extremely...
