I want to write something, but I want to do it step by step.. Kinda like a self RP but instead of turn by turn, I'll put everything in 1 post and make it into an ongoing story.

Where do you guys fit in? I want ideas for what sorta characters to use and what sorta place it should be in. You don't have to write a profile, just make up a character idea that sounds cool. Or a scenery idea. I'll work with whatever you guys come up with.


Edit -

Lemmi put it this way. You can make up ANYTHING you want, so long as it's not a current character of yours. You can come up with any type of scenery you want. If you have some character idea you know you'll never use, feel free to put it up. If you think I should work some scenery into this or start off in a particular place, post it. If you see someone post a charrie and feel that you have the best idea for a clashing character, enemy, or accidental ally, post it. I will use everything I'm given to write this ongoing story. Whatever you do, do it with the mind that I'll be writing EVERYTHING on my own from day one. So don't get offended if you come up with some character and it flies off in a personality direction you hadn't anticipated... It's one of the reasons I dont' want already made rp characters - to avoid pissing off someone.

When I say anything, I mean ANYTHING. You could make an animal, anthropomorph, human, chimera, ent, bug, anything. I will find a way to work it in. If I get two different scenery ideas from two different people, I'll find a way to work them together into something unique.

I want this thing to be at least 90% made up in concept by you guys. The only thing I'll make up during the story is possible specific places in the selected scenery or background characters to make a place feel busy.

I can't start anything without at least 2 characters and one piece of scenery.

After that, and after I write up the first part, I'll need you guys to progressively give me knew places to go and people to meet so you can lead where the story goes in a fun sense.

Well do you have a setting of era or time? Or do we make that up too?

I want to make it competely up as I go. Everything I do will be improvised off everything people in this thread come up with (provided it's fresh and not an already existing character). So I could easily end up mixing up scenery to fit what I want.

Ok so here's what my character would be, Giarc is a mixed species of a bat and a wolf. Plus one of the coolest things would be that during the daytime his vision would be extremely sensitive to light and during the night his vision would be beyond excellent. So when he travels around the daytime he wears goggles that block the sunlight. He has a hooded cloak like trenchcoat which is made of a certain material that makes him seem invisible. it's made up of a mirror like micro fabric that reflects the enviroment onto the cloak to give the illusion that he's invision and it's reversable so if he turns it inside out it would be a crimson red cloak. He'd have the speed, sense of smell and agility of a wolf and sense of sight, sense of hearing and flexablity of a bat.

So it's be like an alien being hehe

Name: Hakemur

What Hakemur is: An insatiable killer inhabited and driven by the insane spirit of a great hunting cat.

What Hamemur wears: The remains and scavenged clothes of his kills.

There is The Hunt. There is ONLY The Hunt. The Hunt leads to a Kill. A Kill leads to The next Hunt. And, there is always The Hunt.

The Hunter hunts alone, except when he hunts with fellow hunters. But that never lasts, for they are not like him. Not really. For sooner or later, he must hunt them as well.

The Hunt is father. The Hunt is mother. The Hunt is God. The Hunt is the Adversary. The Hunt is EVERYTHING.

And the Hunger, that which IS The Hunt, is insatiable. It lives within and is the insane spirit of the great cat.

Hakemur is mortal. The spirit of the great cat is not. Someday Hakemur will die. Perhaps by old age, or an accident, or at the hands of a more human hunter. It matters not. The insane spirit of the great cat will find a new host. Find a new host, inhabit that new host, become that new host and dominate that new host. Nothing new, no not at all, it will inhabit quite likely as it did so with Hakemur. Hakemur who slew its previous host.

Now. There is the Hunger, it cannot be satiated, yet it must inexorably be sated.

Time to Hunt.

The farmboy stopped his work for a moment and wiped sweat from his brow. As he took a long slow breath in, he surveyed the work accomplished so far; four bar-lenghts of drainage, a halv-arm deep and just as wide. It was just as his father had told him... well, at least it was when it came to its width and depth. The sun had already reached nigh-point and the four bar-lenghts of drainage he had dug was just over half of what was expected of him. It wasn't that he had failed to work hard, the soil was as full of bindroot as always which made the digging twice as difficult.
A rather uremarkable shovel supported the weight the farmboy as he leaned in recovery during his brief rest. The shovel tensed with anxiety. The shovel longed to be employed in labors. It yearned to dig ditches and postholes. It needed the exertion of moving dung from the stables to the new fields. The farmboy knew nothing of this.
Instead of reflecting on shovels, the farmboy reflected on his father; the man who owned this brief plot of land. As a father, the man was second rate and lacked any outward displays of affection for his only child. Much the same could be said about his aptitude for farming. Only his management skills could be described as impressive. The farmboy thought on this in less direct terms and colncluded that while he did truly love his father, he also felt a slight contempt for him.
Wind tinged with copper scents drifted actoss the crop of rye.
The farmboy forgot about his labors and dropped the shovel.
The shovel cursed in indignation and wondered again when it would be put to proper use.
Hakemur took a long slow breath out. It had form once again. The sweet stench of prey was nearby.

(so yeah... we got a farmboy... working on a farm. and he gets possesed by the great cat spirit and becomes The Hakemur... and probably goes on to kill is father... or even his whole family. have fun with that!)

Ok well both Giarc and the catguy can head to an area in the badlands (desert with canyons) that has some kind of city.

Giarc's land vehicle is like a jet fighter intergrated with a motorcycle and a hovercraft. The seating is designed like a jet fighter with one behind the other.

[dohtml]<center><font size="5">Chapter 1</font size></center>[/dohtml]

Night slowly crept along the quiet farm houses and russling crops of assorted wheat, corn, and cotton; casually blotting out the sun's last fated glimpse over terraformed land whilst the moon pushed in for control as it did in every cycle from afternoon to morning. Soon only the stars and lunar succession beam over the glorious gifts of life, as well as life's many presented treasures - everything from the rustic, well-used cow barns to a large retired piece of harvesting equipment laying stoic in a field around random bails. Long and quiet in almost every field not already plowed, drop tube irrigation systems quietly rolled at a snails pace and steadily, efficiantly sprinked water over the still living crops.

A chilly wind kicked up, sending ridged leaves of surrounding woods into a bickering frenzy. Even if the colors were dimmed under the full moon's light, the crisp sounds were an all too clear reminder that fall was at season's door. This sudden gust of air also stirs a few deer out of the brush towards better locations and sends the rotating water of the irrigation into sporatic quanderies. Such is an unexpected confrontation for a once sleeping tabby; the cat jumping, quite stirred, up a shed and thereafter onto a barn roof. Flustered, it shook off the water and frantically licked a paw.

As the area slowly settles back into calm, a shrill scream suddenly rakes through the sky. The tabby, taken aback and obviously frantic, leaps off the roof with an arched spine and flared tail to much safer locations. However as quickly and unexpected as the scream came, it buffeted down. From the far side of the barn: two lanky, long-fingered, and clawed hands stretch out of the darkness to pull a young woman into the shadows of its interior. Next to a pale clutched in the cold stiff grasp of the woman ran a steady, glistening stream of mingled blood and milk - only vaguely illuminating her death against the dim light of the sky.

However even as horrific as this scene has become it does not end there. For the true story begins in a remote cave alongside a grassy knoll, hidden well under the camoflague of dieing trees and shrub. While the cave is not covered in any shape or form, its entrance has a steep decline of twenty feet before continueing on to deeper origins. This and other myths around the rural lands does well to keep nosey kids and adventurous visitors well away. As well it should have been, for tonight was the night that the cave's creator returns.

In the farthest depths of the cave, miles below the surface, on the farthest path in the deadest of dead ends hangs a hoard of large, spectral bats. The entire grouping ripples and shivers in rapid anticipation of a good night. Younger, more impatient bats flit upwards towards the ceiling to pick on the glowing stands of hanging spiders, robbing the arachnids of their catch of moths and other assorted insects over the last day. Eventually, though, the adults too slowly awaken and take to flight towards the outside. Those that stay behind or are too weak to make the trip above ground all inevitably drop into the catastrophic mix of carnivorous beatles and guano that is dense underfood. Minutes later, all of the flying mammals have left the cave depths (or died trying), forever abandoning a wall of miraculous minerals and gems behind.

If human eyes were to look upon this natural treasurey, priceless by nature and mimicing the qualities of Jet and Obsidian along with other assorted stones, they would cripple over and cry at its untouched beauty. Sadly, it wasn't long before this very monument towards mother earth was marred by two large golden orbs. Soon the very minerals and cave walls around it stretched outwards and towards the cave tunnel. Parting from the jet and obsidian reached four talons, followed by long, slender, webbed fingers. Fur as black as the cave, stones, and night above slowly rivetted through the globs of dirt and rock as the arm slowly reached out and grabbed visciously at the slick walls. Against all odds, the talons dug near to effortlessly into the rock and with great strength assisted in pulling the rest of the mineralistic mass from the wall. It fell in a clump of elemental chaos into the infested purgatorial filth. Beatles immediately massed over it and chewed away at the dirt, uncovering first the long tail, then up the fur-splattered spine, finally ripping at the raw flesh of a long snout. The golden orbs gleamed under the frenzy of insectile hunger and soon, in an all too fitting finale, the entire body of an alien creature broke free from the ground and stood up, extending a paw to remove the bugs from its face. The being now freed from the cave wall flicked out long, large ears to get a better understanding of the surroundings, then looking downward stated in a long, steady sigh, "Crap."

It raises an arm, brushes off a piece of equipment much resembling a gauntlet, and presses it a few times. "HQ, this is Giarc, lone member of branch three fourty-seven." The response was nothing but static. Giarc presses the gauntlet again. "I have been pursued. I was forced to land my ship and hide in a-" he looks around. Carefully, he releases the gauntlet. "There's no way."

Pulling himself from the cave, Giarc surveyed his surroundings. Much to his surprise, it was a patch of trees, surrounded by endless acres of open farmland. Also surpassing the previous shock, he finally came to realize the inevitable. However, just to make sure, the muck-covered alien of black fur and long, taloned wings tapped a few more times on his gauntlet. An image silently rose from it, gleaning over breif details of a complicated language. Giarc taps on the projected image now, much like one would on a calculator, and the images changed to show a 3d ship.

The ship, itself, resembled something between a sea vessel and a fighter jet; while it had the hull of a ship without sails, it was made of solid metal with sturdy wings and engines underneath. Underlaying the entire holographic model, hidden partially between the engines, were six long treads like one would see a tank wear. Countless windows decorated this image as well as one large window making a giant eye in the front. And over everything words, like a blueprint would show, detailed everything to Giarc.

Everything read was something to dread. Turning off the gauntlet, Giarc slouches momentarily and cocks an ear back in distaste of the situation. "How am I going to explain that my ship crystalized to Central Command? They'd never believe it. After all, it takes something like a thousand years for something like youridium to dissolve." His large, glowing eyes scan over the heavens above. "What am I going to fly to get back up there?" Then vision glances with confusion the farmland once again. "And where did the mountain and endless squads of Tornacs go? Did I crash outside of the Capital?"

Giarc thought for the longest time on this newest question. But still nothing seems to add up. Even though the creature had been through trauma, nothing in his memories indicated flying far from the moutain, nor in a rural area. There is the consideration of scanning his brain and posting slice images on his suit transponder to get a replayed view of events; however with the pain involved in that and danger he might put himself in, it honestly wasn't worth it.

So he leans against an oak nearby and ponders.

Ponders in the night - in the tranquility of insects chirping and bats up ahead feasting upon said insects. The very same bats who deficated all over his ship interior for who knows how long.

Suddenly, a woman screams.