Mirrors on the Ceiling (Mature) (OoC/Interest Check) (GRAND REOPENING)

[Kafzeil]

  A ferret Angel stands at the cashier of what could charitably be called a junk store. Paintings, sofas, what appear to be fantastic drug paraphernalia  litter the store shelves, organized, but the sheer variety boggles the mind.

 The angel grins at you, his name tag reads "Michael" in fairly loopy, swirling handwriting.  You found your man. You hand him a sheet of paper. He puts on a set of spectacles and looks at it. He laughs, then sighs dryly. "Another sucker for that expedition of the damned, eh?" He puts the sheet down. "Look I know what the job posting said, but seeing as I'm effectively driving a bunch of stupid adventurers to what I honestly think is going to be their crypt, I'm giving you the low-down." He leans on the desk. "At least, what I heard as the lowdown. So pay attention."

 "So, our story begins with some stupid jerk. In this case, we're dealing with Leland Steinbahg, great-great nephew of Eleanor Steinbahg. You heard Leland's side of the tale, how the Hotel Steinbahg gusts was massacred during the Grand Opening Gala, likely be some demon who got away scott free. He's hiring you to take back his hotel. He's sorted through the immense legal bugnasty over who owns that sucker. SO he needs team of brave warriors to clean the hotel out of any bandits."

 Michael snickered. "Thing is, the Hotel Steinbahg is something of a legend in these parts. The Hotel was built as ski resort, fancy one at that. Built on the principles of technology as "Being Exceptionalism" " Michael chuckled darkly to himself. "Sorry, anyways, clear weather was forecast for the gala. The morning it was said the skies couldn't be clearer. Then at midnight you had the mother of all mountain blizzards. All that fancy, state of the art communication gear went dead. And that was the last anyone heard of Eleanor or her many illustrious guests. "

"Now, you may ask yourself this "Why didn't the Adventurers Guild investigate." The ferret leaned closer. "They did. But that party was never heard from again. Or the party after. Or the one after that one! All "KIA". Same goes for looters, treasure seekers, upstart villains looking for a nice castle to call their own, you name it. People go into the Hotel, but they sure as Hell don't come back out."

Mike stroked his chin. "But maybe you think you're chances are better. If you like, I can drive your ass up their with the rest of whoever else Leland's suckered in. I won't blame you if you decide this reeks of rotten fish. You could give me all the magic on this side of the continent, I ain't going up to the Hotel Steinbahg's front doors."

"So, what do you say? Take the bus ride, or chicken out and buy something or get out of my store?"

******


Okay, kinda shitty intro out of the way,  but I'm here to gauge interest in this. Inspired by some of my favourite horror stories, such as The Shining, The Slender Man Mythos, Lovecraft, Amnesia: The Dark Descent and NanQuest, I wanted to see if I can GM something like this.  Effectively, this is survival horror. Expect things to go wrong, that flight is a better option then fight often times, and use your head. You might survive.

 A few key details first.

 --The Hotel Steinbahg resembles the Great Railway Hotels of Canada, chiefly the Banff Springs Hotel, though astute RPers will likely think of a certain hotel the Shining was inspired by. Either way, you're location is a 5-Star Mountain retreat. In spite of being effectively abandoned for decades, the exterior looks as finely maintained and new as the day she opened.

 -- While the intro suggests you're all adventurers, I'm actually willing to be flexible. While I'd prefer you all be part of Leland's staff, I'll determine if your character would fit.  You don't all need to be adventurers, you might just be the guy who makes Leland's coffee or something.

 --This RP is marked Mature, for blood, violence, strong language, etc.

 -- Drop me a note for your character sheet, and I'll approve it.

 -- NO FAE OR TRI-WINGS. Dragons are allowed but will be judged far more harshly then other characters.

 -- Given this my first GM gig, I'd like to keep this fairly small. maybe 4-7 players. Larger then that and I may enlist a co-GM to help me.

 -- Power players will be punished harshly, you have been warned.

 -- I'd prefer that you keep your character sheets as detailed as possible. If you want something hidden from the other players though, lemme known in the sheet.

 Profile/ character sheet:

Name:
Race:
Species:
Age:
Apperance:
Biography:*Your life story*
Inventory: *What you'll start with. Try to be creative.*
Abilities: *What kind of spells do you know? Training? that sort of thing*
Personality: *tell us a bit about yourself, your hobbies, quirks, neurosis'  , that sort of thing*
Trivia: Optional, but extra fun bits. Stuff I can put on your tombstone.

So, now with that's out of the way, I expect maybe...three views before this thing sinks into the depths from wince it came.=V

[VAE]

This doesn't sound half bad. I'm somewhat tempted . .. well, we shall see if anyone else shows any interest.

[Ghostwish]

Well since Eli is AWOL and VAE's too much of a fartface to post in bones, I'll cast my dice in here...

... *whaps VAE in the forehead with said dice*

[VAE]

VAE used Revenge!
*plinks the contents of his dice sack on Ghost , one by one*

[Ghostwish]

Dear gods man, we'll be here for a week!!!

[Kafzeil]

Well, I got at least three people interested, Angel over Skpye, and I seem to have forgotten a few details.

--The setting is Furrae, and as such, general setting rules apply. Tech varies but firearms won't be a thing. Not that firearms would be of too much help anyways. 

--The mountains and surrounding area have a dark, strange history, even for Furrae. Leland, your employer, brushes it off as superstition and "Creature control" but travellers are routinely warned, told stories of madness, freak storms, lost expeditions, and dark figures in the woods. But surely such tales are mere campfire stories, right?

[Ghostwish]

So, you accepting character sheets yet? You capping the background stories at forty page minimums or more?

[Angel]

Count me in! May need to bring back my character from Castle.

[Boog]

I.

Am.

All over this.

Gimme a bit to update Jeremiah's character sheet and you sir, shall have yourself a crazy frog.

[Kafzeil]

Yes, I am accepting character sheets now!

And Ghost? While I would prefer detailed character sheets, well...gimme 40 pages but don't act surprised when I throw everything your way. Just saying~=p

[Kafzeil]

Ghostwish you are clear to proceed.

[Kafzeil]

Boog you may post your sheet.

Oh, and here's the sheet for your lovely employer.


Name:Leland Steinbahg
Race: Being
Species: Armadillo
Age: 29
Appearance: Leland stands at about 5' 6", has fairly average build, handsome,  brown fur, auburn shell, jet black hair, and maroon eyes. His tail runs past his feet, and Leland tends to wear expensive business suits, his hair usually gelled back. 

Biography: Leland was born with a silver spoon in his mouth, and was a very sheltered, pampered child. He was used to getting his way, and was told that though the marvels of technology, Beings would one day stand on equal footing as Creatures.

Leland however was oblivious to the reality of his good fortune. Involved in several scandals, schemes, and scams, Steinbahg & Co. was starting it's slow descent. The cascade of bad business decisions, followed by a car crash that took both his parents lives devastated the company.  the 12 year old waited for the day when he came of age, when he could save his Great-Great Aunt's company.

At the age of 22, only a few years into his reign as President, everything started getting worse. The inexperienced, arrogant Leland could only make bad decision after bad decision. Stocks plummeted, board members left, layoffs became more and more common.

Leland rationalized it as a conspiracy. All of this misfortune was the Creature Council, that the Creatures, the Mages, everyone was afraid of him and his family legacy. He became angry, bitter, resistant to any criticism, eventually firing all his advisors as "creature Conspirators".

And then Steinbahg and Co. was labeled "Junk Status" only a month later.

Not even into his 30s, Leland's fortune is all but gone, Leland using the remaining funds from his company to prop himself up, hire an expedition to the lost hotel, and finally, reclaim ownership of what is rightfully his.

Just what Leland hopes to accomplish on his expedition is  up in the air, but he promises generous pay.
Inventory: A set of advanced walkie talkies, a briefcase filled with important files and documents, including the Hotel's bill of sales and blueprints, a chequebook, and a dagger . Oh and a lunchbox.
Abilities: Leland fancies himself an entrepreneur, a businessman, an a sort of hero of the Being race. It does not take my cynicism to note he's not very good at all three jobs. Leland knows how to use the dagger, but is very anti-magic. He however brews a mean coffee.

Personality: Leland can at first seem charming and polite but often drops the act quickly in front of creatures, often lording the accomplishments of other Beings over them. It's been theorized that leland so far has been lucky most Creatures he meets don't consider him worth staining their clothing over.

Beings will tolerate Leland for longer, which averages out to about nine seconds longer. Being a short tempered, holier then thou, condescending prick to the very race you claim to support tends to do that.

Trivia: -While he believes in "Being Exceptionalism" Leland is currently willing to hire nearly anyone with a pulse. Or in the case of the Undead, without one.
-Leland once fired an advisor, a Demon of the Keter clan, for asking him if he could make coffee. Perhaps if she had worded it better, Leland could have refocused his companies efforts on killer coffees.
The Keter woman however realized leland was too stubborn and bullheaded, and soon found a better job as part of the family ports.
-Leland's favourite book is considered by be something to "Throw against the wall with great force."
-WHile dealing with him these days, it's recommended you take your payment upfront in cash. Leland's cheques have a nasty habit of bouncing.

[Boog]

Name: Jeremiah Ac'Gregor

Race: Being

Species: Tropical tree frog

Age: Late 20s to early 30s


Apperance: To say the least, scruffy. Black hair, drawn back into a ponytail near as slick as his skin. Glasses that show frequent previous repair if examined closely. Blotchy orange and black skin pattern that typically in nature means "poisonous".
His clothing varies by whatever he's doing for work lately, but it's generally either a dress shirt and slacks or some local castle's livery, somewhat worn and ragged for the wear. This impression persists with clothes that are new; if you made the man wear a breastplate it would probably look rumpled. He's long since given up on any real refinement, which is a shame seeing as when left in more capable hands he cleans up nicely, and instead tries to affect this as a sort of rogueishly charming quirk.

Biography:Jeremiah Ac'Gregor used to be a high school art teacher. Mediocre artist at best with a reputation for being quirky. Liked using a little illusion-magic in his work, generally rather quiet save for with his favorite students.
However, sometimes there are students that aren't anyone's favorites. A young demon girl went on a rampage through the school. She had severe family issues. People would have known if anyone asked.
Fortunately the girl was stopped before casualties could get too high. One death, a few maimings, and a few half-competent curses thrown hitherthither. In the pandimonium to make sure the severely wounded were taken care of, nobody even noticed what had happened to Silly Professor Ac'Gregor.
Some combination of misunderstood bad-luck curses and hexes and poxes and and hoodoo had unlocked something worrisome in Jeremiah's brain, something that made him walk for hours at night and mutter to himself in private. Sometimes he'd lose hours of time and wake up in abandoned factories, or hotels in other towns. Sometimes he'd lose his temper and yell back, aloud, at the six new voices in his head.
Few men of such habits, no matter how charming when lucid, no matter how well they try to adapt, remain employed teaching children.
Nowadays Jeremiah travels, a lot. He has a home, a town, a life, and sometimes manages to teach an art course at the college in is town. But his curse or malady or whatever you call it compels him to vanish for weeks, months, perhaps years at a time, traveling with little more than the clothes on his back. He's done many odd jobs for a variety of clients, and has yet to let the number thereof who were promptly killed by adventurers shake his confidence in his ability to judge a man's character (although, admittedly, he's stopped applying for service positions in any establishment shaped like a massive skull).
Frankly, given the scope of his adventures and the friends he's managed to make, Jeremiah's probably a lot more courageous than he gives himself credit for. His motto of "run and live" has been frequently surpressed to attempt to do the right thing.
Or, well, whatever he's been convinced is the right thing.

Inventory: Lighter, although he doesn't smoke. A blackjack, although he rarely fights. A good book by a bad author or a bad book by a good author, whichever you consider more likely. Sketchbook, art supplies. A while back when he was attempting more mundane treatment for his condition, he was given a chambered box for pills; he has since discarded the pills and uses the chambers to store gum. A serviceable swiss army knife, some jerky, a small spool of twine and a bag of clothespins.

Abilities: Jeremiah has little to no training at anything at all, save for art and illusion magic. He can also cast a small fireball spell, but it makes for a better deterrent than actual weapon. His curse feeds off his own magical reserves; while he's dabbled in some advanced magical theory, he has less to work with even compared to the average being.
He does appear to possess an innate talent for going unnoticed and running like hell, and is prone to acts of panicked visciousness when cornered. He seems to have an aptitude for talking to others, often finding his way into important or protected places simply by confusing or charming local staff; his greatest asset is his impression of complete and total harmlessness.

Each of his Voices has an ability of its own, although calling on their aide can sometimes cause him to owe them an indulgence or give them outright control over his body. He may have his goals, but they have their own. Use of these abilities is INCREDIBLY rare, and Jeremiah tries to avoid it at all cost. Generally I'll choose which he gets to use for a given scenario by dice roll, if at all.

In-
Ability: Strength
Goal: Intellect- In, unfortunately, staked out a rather small section of Jeremiah's brain. When he has control he relishes in having the free space to be more than a mindless brute, and tends to sit down with the nearest math problem.

Nex-
Ability: Shield
Goal: Isolation- If Jeremiah dies, they all die. Nex is cold, calculating, and aware of this fact to a paranoid degree.

Plic-
Ability: Steal- Energy, spells, memories, abstract concepts...
Goal: Greed- Shiny objects, pretty concepts, particularly interesting spells...

Cab-
Ability: Telekinesis
Goal: Power- Cab wants to be in a position of authority; he'll settle for putting Jeremiah in that position, as the frog would have to take his advice to survive that sort of responsibility.

Bal-
Ability: Rot. Anything he touches ages rapidly.
Goal: Insecurity- Bal wants to prove his mastory over the world around him, generally via acts of petulance and violence.

Lunacy-
Ability: Transform. Jeremiah becomes a monster, enters a not-entirely lucid state, and is vaguely puppeteered by the Lunacy
Goal: Huh

Personality: Generally kind of goofy and pleasant, sarcastic, but he can drum up a bit of formality when it's needed for work or survival. A little easily pushed around and cowardly, but with a good (if not always NICE) heart. Copes with problems with humor, and his sheer number of problems are likely to make him the funniest guy in the morgue one day. Panicky and sarcastic under pressure. Protective of people who remind him of students; the easiest way to attract his concern and mentorship is to be smaller than him and obviously prone to bouts of severe teenager-esque stupidity.

Trivia:
- Prone to being outspokenly critical of most creature governments. Just, you know, not in front of those creatures. Gives people a chance, but most creatures start off on the wrong foot with him by dint of being creatures.
Hey, when a 16 year old with wings and horns lobs a hex in your face, it makes an impression.
- Most of his magic is learned from beginner do-it-yourself books, and are as such inefficient and prone to error. The only type that's really managed to keep his interest is illusionry, hence why it's the only one he's gotten any good at.
- While critical of adventurers, calling them "macho thrill-jockeys that don't take a real problem seriously enough" Jeremiah had a love of adventurer stories when he was little. The fact that he almost is one now would make his six year old self very happy.
- Highly attracted to taller women. Intimidation's like arousal, right?


AHAHA LETS MESS THINGS UP WOO

[Ghostwish]

HEY GUYZ HOW U MINE 4 CHARACTER SHTUFF?

Name: Zanfib Black
Race: Being
Species: Ringtail (cat not lemur)
Age: 19
Appearance: A lean, body-builder physique, about 5'2, at a peckish 140 lbs. Unlike most ringtail cats, his family has the distinction of a black on white coloration. His eyes are purple, and his ears are quite over-sized. His tail is very long, and extremely well kept, something of a point of vanity for the ringtail. His headfur seems to always be well kept, and slicked back.
Biography: Ah, Zanfib. How wonderfully ignorant and brilliant plans come to amazingly twisted and perfected fruit. To understand him, you must understand his parents. Parents that should have never been parents.

They were a pair of mages, you see, and if anyone ever combined the mass of their egos, the black hole that would erupt would surely swallow our galaxy. How exactly they were able to put down their vanity mirrors and see each other remains a mystery to this very day. How exactly they were able to think of each other past their own, diluted self-improtant views is also baffling. Their decision to have a child is easily explained by gross stupidity. They thought they could produce a perfect mage, a master of the arcane, a powerful spellcaster. You may notice 'happy child' is not to be found in these expectations.

Such came Zanfib, who was, if you believe it, a being who is incapable of magic. Zanfib Black, the family name coming from the ringtail family's distinctive fur coloration, could not use magic, had no inclination for magic, and thanks to his non-parents, would soon come to hate it, mock it, and look down upon all who used it.

They sent him to the best of arcane schools, the tution of which would rival SAIA, oblivious to who they were dealing with, and what they would unleash. Never a touch of love, never warm guidance, never true parenting. Zanfib would never know these things. He knew only expectations, and goals that seemed failures to him. So he went to the schools of magic, where he never learned a single spell. And yet he would learn all manner of power, using the school as an impromptu firing range. He occupied his time cheating on tests, and fouling up their experiments. He became a master of vanishing from class, and yet the teacher would mark him as present. People would argue with him, only to be turned into gibbering fouls. Sometimes, he would even mind-slave people to do ridiculous, silly things. He ruined a professor or two with such nasty games. And yet he never cast a spell. he could even do this while in the midst of an anti-magic field. It baffled everyone in the school, except for one person who knew why.

And it certainately wasn't his parents. No, ignorant egoists that they were, they thought him some new breed of mage. Thank gods the headmaster had an intelligent mind that he actually used. He saw the troublesome and dark-natured ringtail for what he was.

A psion. A master of the mind and the tremendous force that it holds. He was, in essence, a living joke that the universe was having on his parents. He was what all mages played at, using their minds to wrestle with magic, and yet failed to become, which would to use his mind to harness his mind, and the power that it held. He was not a mage, and never would be one.

The headmaster saw this, and had Zanfib sent to a specialized tutor. Someone who would hopefully be able to wrangle the withdrawn and misunderstood being into control.

Zanfib was sent, alone, to a backroom office inside of the school. And although he had probed the headmaster's mind as best he could, he could not figure if this was just some dumb prank to get rid of the obnoxious ringtail. He figured that once again he was shunned, because he was different, and they were perhaps looking down upon him as they always did. He was right in the midst of that train of thought when a voice, strong and echoing, sounded through his mind.

No, young one, not here. You will not be dismissed as strange and inferior, for we are equal. We are one and the same, you and I.

And he looked up, right as the door to the office swung open and he found himself looking up at a russian blue cat cubi.

We are psions.

That was more than a few years ago. It's nearly a decade later, and while Soliat continues to call the ringtail back at times, Zanfib has been on his own for a while now. He's done well, quite well financially, and continues to train and learn as a psion. Although he has managed to come to terms with a few of his many issues, he remains an over-all angry personality, tends to be arrogant, and it doesn't take much to make him offer a snide remark, or outright snap at someone.

And speaking of his issues, they tie together with his financial success quite well. During some of the duller moments in Soliat's care, when he was letting his brain recharge and wasn't attempting to solve Soliat's latest puzzle game, Zanfib occupied his time sketching and writing short-stories. When he began applying the discipline and focus of psionic training, this quickly developed in graphically illustrated written novels.

... and then puberty hit, and Zanfib found an all new way to occupy his time and bury his issues.

The introduction of the estrogen-bearing gender into Zanfib's life caused some very subtle yet powerful changes in the ringtail. He found he had a hidden series of talents that the prime and proper would scoff at in public, but envy in private. It didn't take an earth-shattering event for Zanfib to connect the dots.. and start writing (and drawing!) novels of an entirely different nature.

When he started into the porn industry, he did not do it for money or fame, but merely another outlet for his parental origin frustrations. He took up a pen name, toying with his own name to become 'Black Fan Zib', and quietly published a novel. Oddly enough, it was an instant hit, and out of pure curiousity Zanfib continued to produce. The second book was an incredible success and launched Zanfib into an illustrious, if lustful, position as a recognized author.

The third book was an experiement on Zanfib's part. He thought he was just testing the limits of his authoritive ability, but here's the truth. Zanfib is a heterosexual, with deeply buried homosexual tendacies. He'd be bisexual, if only he had had real parents. But, such as the case, the third novel was these buried traits peeking to the surface.

He wrote a novel depicting a homosexual couple in a slice of life setting. While he thought it rather ordinary, it was an instant HIT in gay communities world wide, and was coveted by many, and banned by more than a few! The result was a series of statues being erected for him in those clothing optional cities, and then pen name could not hide him from his fame. Zanfib Black became a whispered name in excited circles.

The fourth book was a return to his roots, and came out as ordinary by his track record. However, in response to the many requests he had been getting, the fifth book was a sequel to the third, and left off promising a third book.. at a massive cliffhanger.

He was promptly canonized as the Patron Saint of Porn, and rumors began to spread he would start making movies soon.

Fans would be left waiting, however, as he finished up a few other novels along the way, launching two more series, one that favored heterosexuals and one that was pretty much a grab bag of all kinds of different tastes. It was his ninth book that netted him a job offer from none other than the cubi clan of Nact'Larn. Nact'Larn herself was counted amoung the thronging group of Black Fan Zib fans, and summoned the ringtail to her chambers.

Being male and attracted to women, Zanfib agreed, and found himself in directorship of a something new and experimental. A 'movie studio'. Apparently the world was just now coming around to the 'moving picture' entertainment sector, and Nact'Larn wanted to get a jump on it, being eagerly backed by a few of the other emotion-based clans.

Now Zanfib lives a rather affluent life. A large estate home with a sizable chunk of land, the entire staff to manage it, and a considerable amount of wealth. He has only been recently working on his tenth book, which shall be the third in the series, something the fans have been waiting for..

And that is Zanfib Black. The most wonderful catastrophe of a person ever to live.
Inventory: Typically, he wears rich clothing, and has little need for gear. But he does go on his trips, and when he does he wears a traveling outfit, with nothing more than the necessities for survival. Flint and steel, dagger, compass, a few days rations, rope, tent, but no weapons or armor.
Abilities: Zanfib shuns magic, and his physical training is not to be detailed, for it's rather inappropriate. He relies entirely on his mental abilities, in which his primary strengths lie in befuddling and confusing minds, but he can summon up a bit of energy for a straight blast if need be.
Personality: If the biography wasn't enough of a hint, Zanfib's a bit of a pessimistic jerk. He's quite suave when flirting, but in any other situation he's about as pleasant as gargling razors. He is, however, brutally honest to a flaw.
Trivia: Current Relations:

Family - Abhorrible. The schism began to grow impossibly deep when Zanfib started going to Soliat instead of magic school. At that point there was basically no contact between them. When Zanfib's career as a graphic porn novelist kicked off, it brought outrage from his family, who attempted to disown him and strip him of his name. Zanfib normally wouldn't have cared, but seeing a chance to irk his fail-parents even further, he fought them in court. And won. Now the Black name belongs to and is distinctly related to porn, lust, and all things naughty. His family, all of them, were forcibly renamed the Midnight family.

Nact'Larn Clan - Excellent. Zanfib's books are in regular circulation amoung the clan, the infamous leader herself is said to recieve the first printed copy of all his books, along with now being on Zanfib's short list of editors for the books and series. The movies which Mr. Black produced out of her studio have filled Nact'Larn coffers, and rumors now abound that the cubi clan is considering making the being ringtail a permanent member.

Fan Base - Astounding. Ever since his real name became public knowledge, even his arrogant, abrasive persona couldn't keep his fans at bay. He's described as a rebel, a poet, an affluent connissour in the ways of love, and many other things that reinforce his theory that his fan base is completely insane. Ironically enough, the more the ringtail tries to retreat into privacy and drive his fans away, the more they are drawn to him.

General Public - Mixed. Sometimes they're his fans, sometimes they're not. If the ringtail is astoundingly lucky, they don't know him at all.

Zanfib currently has one child amoung Nact'Larn. A daughter, of course, of which he is unaware.

Name: Colo Boom'Ka
Race: Succubus (Boom'Ka)
Species: Dingo
Age: Huh (seems very young)
Appearance: 4'9 and a feather short of a hundred pounds, Colo has the dusty sand colored fur typical of dingos, with one bright blue eye (left) and one bright green eye (right). Her wings and headwings are bat-like, and black, with an eye spot of matching eye color for each wing on the front and back. She doesn't seem to care for her appearance at all, though she bathes regularly due to oil and grease. But her headfur, a dirty blonde color and neck length, straight, is almost always wild, with the condition of her fur windswept.

Biography: This girl is a mystery and then some. As far as anyone can tell, the mechanically minded Boom'Ka clan was wiped out late in the dragon-cubi war, an expansive clan that lacked a tri-wing or any true leadership, it was a rather sad and easy target. The Boom'Kas were said to be curious, able-minded cubi with an affinity for the emotion of curiosity. They designed, built, and created devices of all sorts.. but it didn't help when the blind hate of the dragons set upon them. They fought, and inflicted losses with deadly traps and weapons, but were just too disorganized to survive. War was not their element.

And then this dinky girl shows up, with the odd mark of the Boom'Ka clan on her. She skitters from town to town, fixing windmills, repairing plows, and pretty much mending things most would have written off as lost and broken. Where's she going? What's she doing? HOW did she survive? She never talks about herself, besides her skills. Parents? Friends? Family? No idea.

Inventory: Colo is never without overalls, usually with pockets of random tools and junk, but beyond that she may or may not have a shirt on. Even underwear isn't a guarantee.. Unlike the others, this one seems to carry around the most useless assortment of odds and ends you've ever seen. A bit of scrap here, some rubber there, is that a ball of rubber bands?? To simplify things, the only useful thing she has is a mallet, a wrench, and flint and steel. Not very well equipped to travel..

Abilities: Beyond her mechanical prowess, there is one hint as to how she survived the destruction of her clan. She's very, very good at illusion magic, specifically invisibility. She has a habit of just vanishing if someone startles her. Combat wise, however, she's a wet towel. Her mechanical prowess, however, is something to be admired. She's been known to fix all manner of technology in record time, and often while lacking the supplies to do so. She even constructs things on the fly

Personality: Very, very skittish, and quite neurotic, with a less than healthy dose of paranoia. Overall, however, she's harmless.

Trivia: Her clan mark is on the inside of her right bicep. It's three crescents, with a rod through the middle of them. Folks say it looks like a barrel. And she has not been to SAIA.

[Meany]

Name: Dhōngami B. Brightshine.

Race: Mythos.

Species: Dryad Felid.

Age: 89.

Apperance:  Five feet tall, thin, long legged, minimal apparent 'muscle'.  A tan cat at first glance; the first differences being the long leaf growing out of his forehead.  Ears green at the edges, with the tips showing dark veins, hair structured out of what looks like grass at close inspection.  Brown hands and feet have an underlying pattern of bark in the thin fur, with small leaves growing intermittently at the wrists, ankles, and along the limbs.  A tail as long as he is tall that frankly resembles a palm frond more than an animal's limb.  An alien eye structure as well: brown for the majority, turning black toward the center; no observable separate structures, just a change in color.  Not remotely fashionable, brown cargo shorts ending above the knee, pockets heavy with objects; a green sleeveless shirt detailed with a brown tree design bearing yellow-green leaves on the front, and without leaves on the back, and simple leather sandals.  A large backpack strapped to his back, a white satchel bag with the Red Cross detailed upon it, and a simple staff resembling a short tree branch are his gear.

Biography: The Dryad mythos type is exceedingly rare; due to the length of time needed to reach maturity, the sedentary lifestyle they lead before this maturity, and that not too long ago, Beings and Creatures made most of what they needed in the world out of wood.  A Dryad adult germinates a seed which they install into the body of a tree, preferably oak for the strong wood and long life of the tree.  The seed develops into a new Dryad over the course of the tree's life, absorbing nutrients and energy from the host.  Left undisturbed, a new Dryad wold emerge on the death of their host tree to begin their own lives.  Dhōngami's tree, however, was cut down only a decade after his implantation by a Being logging company.  The lumberjacks promptly panicked when a half-plant baby emerged from the interior of the trunk, covered in sap and fragments of wood.  The overseer, however, prevented the workers from destroying the infant, and took it to their employer, who turned it over to the local feudal lord, who turned it over to his court Angel, Bethesda.  Bethesda quickly deduced what Dhōngami was, and tried to stabilize the infant mythos.  Dhōngami did not have enough chloroplasts in his body at the time to facilitate photosynthesis, and had to be fed a diet of sugar water filled with magically generated cholorplasts to survive.
Efforts were made to find the parent Dryad that had implanted Dhōngami, but never met with fruition, leaving the care of the plant mythos to Bethesda.  Fortunately the infant Dhōngami didn't require most of the basic services in babies; changing being the most prominent and beneficial absence to Bethesda.  Dhōngami grew slower than a Being or Creature, which was likely due to being a plant; growing at a constant rate rather than in bursts.  Schooling thus became all but impossible through traditional means, and Bethesda was thus forced to home-school the younger Creature, to his growing annoyance.  Once it had an education equivalent to a high-school graduate at sixty-nine years of age, Dhōngami was promptly ejected from Bethesda's sight.  In the intervening two decades, the plant mythos has discovered natural inclinations toward nature and light magic, which he had to learn through trial and error.
Dhōngami eventually attracted the attentions of an adventuring troupe when exploring the mutual effect of light and nature magic: healing.  He did this by going from random injured person to random injured person and healing them.  The troupe provided him with his first aid kit, and knowledge of the mundane medicine needed to make magical healing more effective, as well as more refined magic and fighting techniques.  He remains an adventurer for hire, though not as part of his original troupe.

Inventory:  The clothes on his back, obviously.  His backpack has the necessities for camping and hiking; sleeping bags, a collapsible tent, rope,  lighting, fire starter materials, a bug zapper, a GPS, and a satellite phone.  He hardly needs these things himself, but he carries them for the sake of his traveling companions.  His first aid kit is stocked with many herbal medicines rather than clinical, features many bio-degradable bandages, a mortar and pestle, a pill press, and anti-biotics.  His staff is just an normal oak branch, which Dhōngami treats regularly to keep it alive and strong.  Dhōngami's pants pockets are filled with batteries for common devices, a set of collapsible cups, a bag of honey candy that never seems to run out, and a bowie knife.

Abilities:

• Light Magic: Dhōngami has the ability to magically manipulate Light, and use limited spells under the Light category.  He can manipulate light into solid objects, generate light from himself or other objects, heal, and create barriers.  He has not learned how to use Light as a weapon in and of itself yet, but finds the idea of lasers interesting.
• Nature Magic: The manipulation of life forces itself, plants, animals, and the weather.  Through this, Dhōngami is able to speak to feral animals and complex plant life; trees mostly.  He is also able to heal wounds, help plants and animals grow at rapid paces, or even beyond what would be naturally possible.  Given time and focus, he can effect control of the weather in a local area, but not in a combat situation.  He can infuse life into dead plant life, but not animal life, meaning he can turn a wood house into a tree, but not roadkill back into the animal it was.  He can manipulate animals and plants into attacking on his behalf, defending him, or to serve a function.
• Dryad Physiology:  Dhōngami may look like an animal, but he is not.  The only intake of material he truely needs most of the time is water, sunlight, and carbon dioxide.  He can regenerate lost limbs, and this is usually the time he also needs to physically eat food to replace the lost mass.  Dhōngami has a set of internal structures mimicking organs for the purpose of digestion, respiration, and circulation, but not much else.  Through his leaves, Dhōngami can exchange carbon dioxide intake for oxygen output, and only uses his lungs when the leaves are damaged or insufficient.  He can produce 'food' through photosynthesis, with his stockpile of stored food being represented as apparent muscle.  His central nervous system is not at all central; so while a blow to the head will injure him, it is not as bad as such injury normally would be.  Decapitation however, will still kill him.
• Staff Combat: Trained in the use of a staff in combat for both lethal and nonlethal purposes.

Personality: With the above description, some would expect Dhōngami to be an environmentalist, or a hippy.  This is incorrect.  Dhōngami respects the environment and helps out where he can, and answers questions when asked, but does not go out of his way to convince people of the rightness of his ways.  He helps people who ask nicely, or are in obvious destress, but has no problems letting idiots or jerks be eaten by bears; though he would not set the bears on them.  Compassionate, a bit too forgiving, and a bit too brutally honest.  Dhōngami does not tolerate malice.  Given his regeneration and radically different physiology, Dhōngami has learned to discount his own health perhaps too often; he is immune to plague, why shouldn't he help victims, he can regenerate a lost hand, so why shouldn't he pull a needed object from a fire?

Trivia:  Dhōngami does not have blood, he has sap.  Neither does he sleep.  While he does not eat, Dhōngami often indulges in fruits, particularly juicy ones with lots of water.  Dhōngami's incubation tree, a camphor laurel, was not cut down to be used as wood, but because camphor trees were an invasive species in the area.

[Angel]

Working on my character bios, will send them to you shortly, Kaf.

[VAE]

Name: Kallis Ja'Krath

Race: Succubus / Clan Ja'Krath

Species: Feline (Siamese cat)

Age: 47

Appearance: While in natural form, Kallis is roughly 5'4 tall, of an average, leaning heavier build. A somewhat passable, flat colour version of her.. Her fur (along with wing feathers) is mostly cream colour, with the exception of paws, ears, tail tip, cephallic hair, and forehead stretching onto muzzle, which are all a darker colour (as expected from her breed). Her clan mark is located on her left shoulder, just below the shoulder blade.  

She prefers loose, flowing clothes in bright shades of green, blue, purple or a combination of such, usually belted, both to accentuate her waist, and provide yet another place to store an assortment of items vaguely related to whatever she's busy with at the moment. She's slightly cross-eyed.

Her wing tentacles end in long ,thin fingers in their default state, a clan trait in place even while Ja'Krath was still alive.

The only trinket or jewelry of any value is a silver pendant with a lazurite inlay in shape of her clan mark.

History: Born in a not quite important town in Central Kebre as the only child of Solomon Ja'Krath, an enterpreneur renting steam threshing rigs, and Ifigenia Ja'Krath, the administrator of a local landowner's property, she spent most of her childhood messing about in her father's machine shop, or spending time with those kids who didn't mind either her personality or her backwings (an example would be the numerous offspring of the town's alchemist, and doctor).

Her family taught her magic from a fairly age, driven by the belief that a firm, natural grasp of spellcraft is what separates Cubi (and perhaps, very perhaps angels) from the lesser races.

At age ten, after passing her basic education (A newfangled thing set up about twenty  years ago  by the previous governor, who appointed a Minister for Alphabetization and Literacy in order to keep up with the neighbouring countries, the four-year town schools taught the kids of better off peasants and craftsmen reading, writing, arithmetic and religion), she was sent to live in the capital, Port Oriss, with a relative of her mother, in order to continue her education at the Thaumaturgic Lyceum of St. Pravoslav.

It was there at age 19 that her headwings broke out in front of an examination commission, perhaps due to the gross excess of her favoured emotions exhibited by the student body at the time.

With the diploma of a certified sorceress in her paws, she has since worked at a number of jobs in the city, but none has quite worked out, either due to particular misgivings with her superiors, or plain growing bored of the routine once she had learned the ropes, much to the annoyance of her family.

It was about five years later that she heard about SAIA from her former classmate, and given that education therein seemed to be free of charge for all 'cubi, her family didn't have much misgivings about her applying, thinking she's probably not the first inattentive cubi in the world, and  she'll finally do something useful with her life.  

To say that the arrival at SAIA brought change to her life is an understatement on par of saying that a dagger in your back can be unhealthy. Hundreds of 'cubi from all walks of life, and coming from places far beyond even the former reaches of the Imperium of old, kinds of mythos she never seen before,  a massive library, but most importantly, technology. See, for all of its military prowess, regional foothold as a trading and political power, and world-class magic, at least in most traditional disciplines, the Kebrean Governorate, much like many Imperial remnants, has ended up with something of a technological lag behind the world at large.

Needless to say, Kallis was blown off her paws since the first time she's seen a shower, to say nothing of further marvels, such as the fact that one can trap lightning and use it to drive a machine just as well, or even better than steam could. Even more curious was the fact that once made, many of these devices could be safely operated by the dumbest of beings - a resource that just about every place in the world had to spare. With bold plans to one day bring change to her homeland, and drag it kicking and screaming into a new, distinctly flashier era, the 'cubi cat began her studies of industrial thaumaturgy.

But, there's three things one needs to make do with any sort of an ambitious plan - money, cash, and dough. The easiest way to make that happen is to , one, earn a wad, and two, not spend any of it. Of course, the second part is comparatively easy to a cubi than to a being, but as for the first? Well, relatively new to SAIA or not, Kallis still happened to be a certified sorceress, and the occasional one-off job through classified ads did wonders for one's coffers and made for an interesting break from all the theory, never mind a bit of sharp practice.

And, so it happened that she noticed Leland Steinbahg's ad, a few days ago. The sum looked very, very neat, plus there was the whole Steinbahg hotel. Which was supposedly built with no magic whatsoever, and the best technology had to offer at the time - and one of those in charge of building it being the job-giver to boot. Which would make for such a brilliant source for coursework in at least three different classes . . .

Personality: Sharing her clan's affinity for drive and pride, and adding a dash of taste for anger. She's rather curious, and generally fun to be around, unless you manage to somehow mess up with whatever her current main occupation is (given she's a typical cubi, it tends to be about three things more than would be sane), or assert she's in the wrong somehow.

Of course, there's something to be said for coming from what is essentially the butt of the world (but don't say it aloud near her) - despite getting up to date on many things around SAIA, her knowledge of a lot of them is rather academic at best,

Proud of her clan and its heritage, Kallis shares a disdain for both dragons (complacent, haughty wise-ass dunderheads) and demons (backwards warmongers with little care for anything interesting). As for beings, well, while as a group they are quite decidedly inferior, there are quite a few individuals that rise above their mold among them, and in general they can be interesting to talk to , if you don't expect too much.

Abilities:
* As stated, Kallis is a certified sorceress, having a knowledge of magic similar to a run of the mill  Kebrean being mage, even when we ignore her SAIA studies. Worked as an enchanter, and thus able to deal with most purely magic-run mechanisms and devices.

* As far as abilities useful in a tight spot are concerned, conjuring various forms of fire or smoke is pretty much Kallis's bread and butter, as is basic telekinesis - moving stuff, in essence.  Getting strangled by her wing-tentacles isn't a pleasant experience either.  Other than that, she isn't particularly skilled with weapons (kind of a being thing, anyways, to need something other than your body and mind). Not a match for a dedicated warmage or a pissed off martially trained creature, though.

Inventory: Whatever fits a pocket. Foldable hand-mirror (hey, one has to compensate for lack of tentacle heads),  a pencil or five, an eraser, a small blank notebook,  a thaum-meter and few other tools needed to examine spellcraft, a pocket knife (there are things you don't want to prod with a tentacle), a  small vial of silver powder suspension, another small vial of oil of vitriol, a glass pipette or three,  a handbook on raising and care of cloudlice ( a species of aerial isopods, latest hobby),  a heavily scribbled-in pocket manual of spellcrafting, a money pouch, a file, magnifying glass, an "onion" pocket watch, an assortment of handkerchiefs, a roll of wire and finally, a pack of beef jerky. Never spoils, see.


Trivia:
* She's still drinking and breathing, and has sporadic eating and sleeping habits, generally once every three-four days.

* Fan of all things fire related, when she's in a silly mood she'll communicate via conjuring smoke letters.

* Likes rose hip tea. Still can't shake the feeling that regular tea and coffee make for luxury goods, due to them being such in her homeland.

* Once ended up with concussion when her roommate startled her from studying. It just happened she was studying feet up, propped by her tentacles, as a result of reading a section of said roommate's textbook, dealing with the cardiovascular system.

* Has a bit of an implicit crush on uniformed males - not a surprise as her uncle and most of his friends coming 'round while she was younger worked for the militia.

* Did you know cloud lice prefer bladderweed over sky orchids?

[Ghostwish]

Imma ship your character with Meany's, VAE.

[VAE]

Imma ship your character with Meany's, VAE.

You, you better sort out that Boom'Ka trap of yours.
(Incubus girl, see)

[Ghostwish]

Easy! It explodes!

[Angel]

Hey Kaf, am I all clear to post?

[Kafzeil]

Yes angel, you are clear to post.

[Angel]

WHOO!

Double bios all the way across the skyyyy~!

-----------------

Name: Ketefe Zashia Solowynd
Race: Being
Age: 20
Species: Unspecified feline

Appearance: Ketefe stands at about 5'7", and has an athletic, muscular build. Her fur is light blue with sparse orchid tabby-like stripes, and her hair is cobalt blue and shoulder-length. Her eyes are yellow, and over her right eye is a long, deep scar, beginning over her eyebrow and ending just on her right cheekbone. She has a fluffy, almost fox-like tail that tapers into a deep purple color at the tip.

Biography: Ketefe grew up in a small village called Chae-Raki. Her father, Zionu, was a police officer, and taught his daughter everything there was to know about justice and fighting. His passion for doing what was right at any cost spread to her, and she longed to join the police when she grew up.
 The Solowynds lived near a family called the Transphermis, who were wealthy and powerful. When Ketefe was eight years old, Zionu learned the truth of his old friend Gareth Transphermi's "career", as well as a horrible truth about his friend's son. Gareth wanted to avoid getting the police involved, to protect his family as well as his reputation. He challenged Zionu to stop him on his own, rather than with legal help. But before the men could settle the dispute their way, their children had taken matters into their own hands; Ketefe had challenged Gareth's thirteen-year-old son, Khimara, to a fight. She didn't know what Gareth or Khimara had done, but she knew that she'd rather put her honor on the line than risk her father tarnishing his reputation as an honest cop. Unfortunately for all parties involved, while Ketefe was very skilled for her age, Khimara had unusual and deadly powers on his side... Ketefe lost the battle, and the right side of her face was severely injured. While her vision wasn't damaged, the wound over her right eye never fully healed. Rather than succumb to avoid hurting his family anymore, Zionu took his daughter to get her injuries treated, and called the authorities.
 That night, Ketefe awoke to the sounds of fighting. When she ran to her parents' room, all she could find were clumps of bloodstained fur, the color of her mom's and dad's. Fearing the worst, she took her father's sword and fled into the woods. She hid there until morning, when she was found by a young blind boy who walked in the woods at dawn every day. His story will be told later, but he is part of the reason she decided to stay alive...and to return to Chae-Raki once she had grown strong enough to stop the Transphermis' crimes.
 Ketefe spent the next ten years away from her town, wearing a mask to hide her bandages, and eventually her scar. As she saw more people, she learned how many people there were in the world like Gareth and Khimara. As she grew and became more and more skilled, she eventually became an unlicensed adventurer, or, depending on whom you ask, a vigilante murderer. Once she had gotten strong enough, she returned to Chae-Raki, ready to kill the boy she had always blamed for her father's death. While she was gone, Khimara had taken over the "family business", using his powers and charisma to keep the village under his control. Ketefe reunited with the blind boy, now an adult as well as a successful poet and information broker, and together they enlisted an army of the brave to stop Khimara.
 The battle is too long a story to tell, but it must be known that Ketefe spared Khimara's life, realizing what her own life had become on her quest to end Khimara's. She turned herself and him over to the police. In return for his life being spared, Khimara paid Ketefe two favors. One was to inform her that her parents' deaths had been faked and they had escaped with their lives; the other was to ask his own childhood friend, now a government official, to help hasten Ketefe's release from jail. His friend knew of the ex-vigilante's skill with a sword, and her father's reputation, and is offering her early release and a position on a military strike force in exchange for accepting an adventuring mission at the Steinbahg Hotel. Ketefe has agreed, and asked Jarevei to accompany her, as a way to make sure that she won't do anything rash to mess up her chance at a normal life.

Personality: Sharp-tongued and hot-tempered by nature, but intensely loyal to those she loves. She has a strong sense of justice and feels obligated to protect the innocent and the weak, as well as punishing those who would do wrong just for its own sake. She understands laws and respects them, but as time has gone on she's recognized that laws are not perfect and often fail to bring about true balance to the world, which is why she initially became a criminal and is considering a military position now. She is naturally curious about things she doesn't understand, and learns all she can about survival and any skill she finds useful. She enjoys reading, meditation and sword-fighting when she's not on the lam or in jail.

Inventory: Five (5) spare outfits
One (1) lightning-shaped sword, sheathed in a blanket on her back
One (1) lightning-shield charm bracelet, pilfered from a castle
One (1) vigilante outfit, consisting of a pair of ripped shorts and a ripped tank top
One (1) black Zorro-style mask
One (1) net bag with a bottle of laundry soap
A few novels
Some spare food and water
Most of this is carried in a drawstring bag on her back, save for the sword and the mask, which she is wearing along with a pair of blue jeans and a black cotton shirt.

Trivia: - While she doesn't really need to wear a mask anymore, Ketefe does so because she's worn it for so long she feels incomplete without having it around.
- Ketefe is officially uneducated, but is inquisitive and smart. At Jarevei's urging, she spends time every day to read and learn new things, to catch up on what he sees as a missed chance. Currently her favorite things to study are literature, history and botany.
- Because I know people will ask, her name is pronounced keh-TEH-fay SAHL-uh-wind.
------------------

Name: Jarevei Iterassi
Race: Being
Age: 22
Species: American Shorthair

Appearance: Jarevei is about 5'9", and has an average build for his height. His fur is light brown, and his hair is the color of clay dust, thick and rather messy. He wears a bandage around his eyes, because he doesn't like the way glasses feel but knows that his light-brown irises and milky-white pupils make people uncomfortable. He looks very average, which is what helps him learn about people and places inconspicuously, and what makes him invaluable as an information hub.

Biography: Jarevei grew up in Chae-Raki as well, on the other side of the village. He lost his sight completely at age three, due to genetically-inherited glaucoma. He managed to live a mostly normal life; he was homeschooled on certain subjects until his parents had saved enough money to send him to a special school for the blind. Jarevei loved hearing stories as a child, and longed to make stories of his own, but it wasn't until he attended school and learned Braille that he was able to put the stories and feelings filling his head onto paper. From then on, his activities consisted of writing, reading and exploring.
 As a child, Jarevei loved to explore the woods behind his house. He loved to teach himself new things by using his other four senses to balance and protect himself from harm in the woods. One day when he was about ten, he caught the smell of blood by some trees. He found a girl a bit younger than him, who was severely injured (though it was bandaged) and very distraught. She didn't tell him all of what had happened, but he managed to get her name: Ketefe Solowynd. He offered to take her back to his house to get help, but for some reason she declined. She later admitted that she didn't want grownups to think her parents had hurt her and she had run away. To calm her down, and to ensure that she'd be safe in the woods, Jarevei decided to teach her his knowledge – what plants were safe to touch or eat, how to keep bugs away, how to avoid large animals, how to focus her senses to find civilization, etc. At her insistence, he also taught her how to read and write in Braille. Teaching her everything took about three weeks, and by that time the two had become firm friends. One day, he went out to find that Ketefe was gone. She had left him a note in Braille, thanking him for his help, and promising they'd meet again one day.
 When they finally did meet again, Jarevei was attending college to study professional writing, and making a modest living as a poet and occasional information broker. He had discovered early on that he was "supernaturally nondescript" – he could sit in a room for hours, hear everything that was said, and nobody would notice him. As a result, he knew everything about the denizens of Chae-Raki, and their knowledge of the outside world. This made him an invaluable resource to Ketefe, and while he didn't appreciate her using what he'd taught her to kill people, they slowly renewed their affection for each other by keeping each other safe and fighting side by side to end Khimara's control over their home.
 Ketefe's respect and love for Jarevei are what made her ask him to vouch for her behavior and keep her from doing anything stupid that would send her back to prison. Jarevei is happy to be useful in any way he can, and hopes to use his knowledge and quickness to stop whatever mischief is going on at the Hotel Steinbahg.

Personality: Patient to a fault, easygoing and secretive. Jarevei has a creative, hungry mind, and learns everything he can about any subject that interests him. He had difficulty with words as a boy, and was very shy. This led him to use writing to express himself, and as he got better at it, conversing with people got easier. His meeting with Ketefe as a child blended with his natural curiosity, and his childhood frustrations at his blindness, to want to help people any way he could. Even if he can't fight, Jarevei always tries to help coach people towards what he believes will have the best possible outcome for all involved. Unlike Ketefe, he analyzes a situation carefully before acting at all. This is why they made a formidable team in battle against Khimara.

Inventory: One (1) backpack, filled with books
A ream of paper
A set of alphabet stencils
One (1) pencil pouch, filled with pencils and pens
Five (5) spare outfits
A few Braille books, mostly poetry collections
One (1) thick oak cane, with a white wood handle

Trivia: - When he was a young boy, Jarevei was curious about everything around him, but was too shy to ask questions directly. He grew into the habit of listening to what people said before asking a question or saying anything, and this habit developed until he had become an expert listener. This is how he began his work as an information hub.
- Jarevei's cane has a blade sheathed inside it, and the handle is thick enough to be used as a hilt. He only uses it defensively and isn't as good as Ketefe, but he's very capable in a fight regardless due to his ability to dodge.
- His first written poem was about his memories of color.
- His name is pronounced JAR-of-eye it-tuh-RAH-see.

[Kafzeil]

Annnnnd with that we are effectively closed! I may or may not open up in the future but due to the nature of this and my general lack of experience I won't be accepting any new players.

I'll get the intro up tomorrow after I get back from the hospital.

[Ghostwish]

Hospital!? Kaf when we said break a leg...

[VAE]

Okay, Boog, the "Cats,cats everywhere" as well as Lady Gearswoggle and Lord Largeshirt got me to laugh far too much.
Well done.

[Boog]

*bows* We aim to please, sirs and madam.

[Ghostwish]

Out of curiosity, which one was Zanfib in that armadillo's description?

[Kafzeil]

Out of curiosity, which one was Zanfib in that armadillo's description?

Seems I forgot to put a jab at Zanzib in there. No worried, tossed one in. Never say i exclude people.

[Kafzeil]

Sorry for the posting delay. I'll have a post hammered out by tomorrow.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NNdpx2wfx2c

You can start playing this when I post.