Post by eclipse on Jan 7, 2006 0:02:30 GMT -5
Day 1 – Central Park, New York City
The night was young, only midnight as the full moon shinned over the green trees. It was the middle of August, though she could not be sure due to not caring of the days of the week anymore. It isn’t like she has a schedule in life. She isn’t human and she has all the money she will ever need.
The trees about two stories tall took a big chunk of the park, like Central Park does to Manhattan. Yet there still is plenty room on the forest green grass. The roads are of dry dirt and cement. A few hills could be seen here and there including a small closed construction area and animals roaming about. Due to vacation, no one was currently at the park.
She passed by monuments of the American Revolution, thinking of how many worse wars there have been that hardly no one knows about. Like Machina War 1 in 1003 to 1210, with millions of people firing for domination. The guns were destroyed to leave no mention of the stupid war in the future although Machina War 2 erupted in 1300 to 1625, almost eliminating all life on the planet. Though yet again, all evidence was destroyed.
She then looked at a nearby tree. Names of people were carved into it, yet it is a fact that many are of unknown people. She actually recognized some. One read Riou Xenon Ree, a commander in Machina War 2. She smiled. They knew so little history these humans, and yet they fail to learn the most important. Which brings up many of their mistakes.
Before she knew it, she was surrounded. Two dozen average assassins. She didn’t care for them as she turned around. She cared of there captain. Veran Reo Xane from Machina War 1.
She stared and he stared back. Two VERY OLD friends looking at eachother in the eye, the soldiers heading closer to HalfMoon, their machine guns raised. The funny thing was, machine guns were the most weak weapons in the Machina Wars.
HalfMoon:…
Veran Reo Xane:…
HalfMoon: “How did you find it? They said the others didn’t know.”
Veran Reo Xane: “A rebellion has gone a new. They are blaming you.”
HalfMoon: “I WAS 5!”
Veran Reo Xane: “You were strong…”
HalfMoon: “I was weak! And I have risen.”
Veran Reo Xane: “There was more then one Machina War. There are still pure descendents from that time. They are looking for you. There were at least 8 Machina Wars since 1600. There have been more. There is confusion. The only way is to…”
HalfMoon: “BULLSHlT!”
Veran Reo Xane: “I never wanted it to happen. You were one of my best friends. I helped raise you…”
HalfMoon: “Shut up! My life has gone as bad as the past. And if there were wars, how would I not know of them.”
Veran Reo Xane: “Our technology has risen. We are at Mars…most of us. Because of you…”
HalfMoon: “I had NOTHING TO DO WITH IT!”
Veran Reo Xane: “If I take you out now, the wars would have never been…I wouldn’t have lost ….Xan…”
HalfMoon: “…he…WHAT!?...no…no….”
Soldiers: *come closer*
HalfMoon: “Who is your leader now?”
Veran Reo Xane: ……..
They looked into each other's eyes and she knew what was going to happen. She jumped and she ran, not looking back, his soft sorry voice in her head. But there were to many of them, to many bullets, each assassin with great inhuman power. She got shot in the back, a trail of blood flowing to the ground, but she wouldn’t stop. They followed the trail until she opened a cab. The driver panicked and ran out, she had her escape. The wound to her back was not eternal, but the wound to her heart was. The men behind were stopped, HalfMoon looking as if on the verge of tears. But it wasn’t like her, she held them back.
HalfMoon: “I have grown stronger…”
Day 2 – Hall of Memories
The bullet was taken out, fortunately there was no poison. Strange, there should have been some; she would have died by now. But she didn’t complain. A mummy like bandage was wrapped around her chest under her clothes as she walked through the front door, a ten story drop with nothing seen below where the Twin Towers once stood. She spoke the ancient key and the door opened, shutting off quickly behind her. An endless room with dusty white and silver tiles, with mixed ancient languages on the walls , white books on dusty shelves.
HalfMoon: “You have got to be KIDDING ME!”
She completely forgot how big this place was. The bad problem, there were neither titles nor authors anywhere and the place was too vast. Yet she was once again attacked. To well of a trap to notice when her mind was overloading.
25 men jumped from the unseen ceiling wearing wavy clothes, laser machine guns in their hands. She was knocked out in seconds by Rot Nacht gas, way to powerful for a human. You might say “She isn’t human.”, but she is in human form. All she saw was a white face with long black hair.
Day 3 – Area 51 – Or so it’s thought…
She had no clue where she was when she woke up, nor the time. The room was obviously a torture chamber, about the size of the average apartment home. Her body is chained to the wall around her waist, shoulders, neck, knees and elbows. Her hands and feet were completely caged so she can't use her well know gun like abilities.
The walls and grounds lay with blood and dirt, wooden as they are. 50 soldiers are in here with her, with no one more then the guy she was looking for in the first place: Zener Ra.
Zener Ra: “Looks like someone is all chained up.” He laughed cruelly with coldness in his tone.
She just glared at him. Like she could do anything. She was in a hopeless position now, with a huge migraine to top it of.
Zener Ra: “For all the centuries I have hunted you, it has finally paid off. I must give you credit, you are a pretty clever rat for this not so special cat.
Her temper had already taken her. Isn’t it predictable? She took a huge glob of saliva and spit it in his face. VERY BAD MOVE.
She got slapped, right in the cheek. Now it was worse then it seemed, because he wasn’t human. His strength was far more, as was he. Her whole check had internal bleeding and two teeth were knocked out. Her head snapped back as a hard crack could be heard.
He laughed. His men stared silently and seriously, as if wondering who’s side to choose. She slowly looked at him. Took in more saliva. Instead she took in a puddle of blood and teeth. She spit it in his face.
He lost all humanity and control as he collided his gun with her jaw. She was beaten as she last looked at his face, and was knocked out.
Her nickname was FullMoon. After destined time and many a challenge, it changed and forever remained HalfMoon. Throughout hundreds of years she has spread fear and wisdom at land and sea. In her human form, she had people run to the Secret Service for safety. They did not know she was a werewolf though she was dangerous enough to make first on the World’s Most Wanted list. In her werewolf form they knew her as the wolf forest guardian and hunted her for centuries. To other creatures of the day and night she was much more. Though they did not know her missions in life they did know those few rare facts. That her voice is so cold and threatening it would leave you shaking on your feet, looking for an exit. That she works for herself and herself only, showing you that she is not a werewolf to be messed with. That her whole family and closest relatives died around the time of her birth in a vicious war. Yet more they knew her sign, the medallion of the full moon she wears around her neck. That she was more forever changed when the moon took her, giving her well known rare seen silver werewolf form and her threatening cursed form, killing in a war at the age of six. She’s been hunted, shot, stabbed, hung, burned, chained, beaten, frozen, electrocuted, cut, bitten, poisoned, paralyzed, bleeding to death, her organs inside out,...everything under the moon. And yet here she is, hunting the hunters and hunted again throughout her life. She is a loner looking for her meaning and path in life. In a way, her path has only begun.
Lately her attire has tremendously changed. Instead of the usual white tanktop, her upper body is covered with a thin layer of body armor under a black tanktop, unnoticeable. The armor of a strange chemically changed group of rocks looks almost futuristic, ending at her waist. The small millimeter sized plates make there armor very flexible and fast to run in. How she crafted these rocks into identical shape and sewed it with rocks is but only to her knowledge. Her once light white pants were switched with long black baggy jeans containing many various pockets. In a layer within the pants is a skinnier armor of the same type yet with smaller pieces. The pockets, filled with scrolls, vials, and other things that can’t be identified. Her plain white shoes are switched with black ones, with spikes on the bottom for protection and easy grip. Like the pants, within is that slim plate of armor. To top it of is a heavy black trench coat that reaches a millimeter or so off the floor. The bottom is designed with three evenly spaced cut out triangles for easy maneuvering. The spaces are about five inches wide and reach up to her knees, getting thinner to the top.
Standing about five ten seven she has a well built figure, managing to stay one hundred one pounds. Appearing seventeen, her age and name are unknown though she acts like an adult. Her brown eyes match that of her frizzy hair that reaches her lower back. Having bought a black hair band made of many thick strands, she put her hair up high, well out of her face. From a previous visit to the Lekaya desert, her light skinned body is partially tanned.
Some scars can heal, others can’t. Some scars are still healing. War makes it almost inevitable to avoid these scars. A constant reminder of pain and suffering. It might explain why she wears a trench coat and long pants though she wouldn’t care what people would think in the first place. A deep one on her back a bit right of her spine stretches all the way from her neck to lower back. If she were to take her trench coat off, you could even see a small lump because of the skin being pushed out so hard. Three more just as big connected to make a triangular figure looks as if were pointing to the long one, as if a clue to something. One that appears like a large circular bruise as if she were stabbed in the stomach, and the blade twisted, yet how that healed is another mystery. Numerous tiny ones covered her back and arms, suggesting she blocked blades with her arms instead of using shields. Spiraling down her left foot is a cut as deep as the long one on her back. Other various ones are on her legs too. Perhaps the strangest ones of all are the ones were at her shoulders, circling around her armpits back to her shoulders.
Only two things seemed to remain from her old set, her medallion and ring. They are the two things she never takes off, be she in battle, sleeping or eating. A pure silver ring of the half-moon rests on her right hand. It was one of her mother’s, a noble werewolf warrior most precious jewel. Her medallion hangs on a medium thick silver chain and can be seen clearly on her chest. A token from her past, it alone is the only other thing that knows of her bloody past. With a 1 ¾ inch diameter, the silver full moon has its own secrets and power. The medallion keeps changing it’s dents to match those of the side of the moon facing her.
The night was young, only midnight as the full moon shinned over the green trees. It was the middle of August, though she could not be sure due to not caring of the days of the week anymore. It isn’t like she has a schedule in life. She isn’t human and she has all the money she will ever need.
The trees about two stories tall took a big chunk of the park, like Central Park does to Manhattan. Yet there still is plenty room on the forest green grass. The roads are of dry dirt and cement. A few hills could be seen here and there including a small closed construction area and animals roaming about. Due to vacation, no one was currently at the park.
She passed by monuments of the American Revolution, thinking of how many worse wars there have been that hardly no one knows about. Like Machina War 1 in 1003 to 1210, with millions of people firing for domination. The guns were destroyed to leave no mention of the stupid war in the future although Machina War 2 erupted in 1300 to 1625, almost eliminating all life on the planet. Though yet again, all evidence was destroyed.
She then looked at a nearby tree. Names of people were carved into it, yet it is a fact that many are of unknown people. She actually recognized some. One read Riou Xenon Ree, a commander in Machina War 2. She smiled. They knew so little history these humans, and yet they fail to learn the most important. Which brings up many of their mistakes.
Before she knew it, she was surrounded. Two dozen average assassins. She didn’t care for them as she turned around. She cared of there captain. Veran Reo Xane from Machina War 1.
She stared and he stared back. Two VERY OLD friends looking at eachother in the eye, the soldiers heading closer to HalfMoon, their machine guns raised. The funny thing was, machine guns were the most weak weapons in the Machina Wars.
HalfMoon:…
Veran Reo Xane:…
HalfMoon: “How did you find it? They said the others didn’t know.”
Veran Reo Xane: “A rebellion has gone a new. They are blaming you.”
HalfMoon: “I WAS 5!”
Veran Reo Xane: “You were strong…”
HalfMoon: “I was weak! And I have risen.”
Veran Reo Xane: “There was more then one Machina War. There are still pure descendents from that time. They are looking for you. There were at least 8 Machina Wars since 1600. There have been more. There is confusion. The only way is to…”
HalfMoon: “BULLSHlT!”
Veran Reo Xane: “I never wanted it to happen. You were one of my best friends. I helped raise you…”
HalfMoon: “Shut up! My life has gone as bad as the past. And if there were wars, how would I not know of them.”
Veran Reo Xane: “Our technology has risen. We are at Mars…most of us. Because of you…”
HalfMoon: “I had NOTHING TO DO WITH IT!”
Veran Reo Xane: “If I take you out now, the wars would have never been…I wouldn’t have lost ….Xan…”
HalfMoon: “…he…WHAT!?...no…no….”
Soldiers: *come closer*
HalfMoon: “Who is your leader now?”
Veran Reo Xane: ……..
They looked into each other's eyes and she knew what was going to happen. She jumped and she ran, not looking back, his soft sorry voice in her head. But there were to many of them, to many bullets, each assassin with great inhuman power. She got shot in the back, a trail of blood flowing to the ground, but she wouldn’t stop. They followed the trail until she opened a cab. The driver panicked and ran out, she had her escape. The wound to her back was not eternal, but the wound to her heart was. The men behind were stopped, HalfMoon looking as if on the verge of tears. But it wasn’t like her, she held them back.
HalfMoon: “I have grown stronger…”
Day 2 – Hall of Memories
The bullet was taken out, fortunately there was no poison. Strange, there should have been some; she would have died by now. But she didn’t complain. A mummy like bandage was wrapped around her chest under her clothes as she walked through the front door, a ten story drop with nothing seen below where the Twin Towers once stood. She spoke the ancient key and the door opened, shutting off quickly behind her. An endless room with dusty white and silver tiles, with mixed ancient languages on the walls , white books on dusty shelves.
HalfMoon: “You have got to be KIDDING ME!”
She completely forgot how big this place was. The bad problem, there were neither titles nor authors anywhere and the place was too vast. Yet she was once again attacked. To well of a trap to notice when her mind was overloading.
25 men jumped from the unseen ceiling wearing wavy clothes, laser machine guns in their hands. She was knocked out in seconds by Rot Nacht gas, way to powerful for a human. You might say “She isn’t human.”, but she is in human form. All she saw was a white face with long black hair.
Day 3 – Area 51 – Or so it’s thought…
She had no clue where she was when she woke up, nor the time. The room was obviously a torture chamber, about the size of the average apartment home. Her body is chained to the wall around her waist, shoulders, neck, knees and elbows. Her hands and feet were completely caged so she can't use her well know gun like abilities.
The walls and grounds lay with blood and dirt, wooden as they are. 50 soldiers are in here with her, with no one more then the guy she was looking for in the first place: Zener Ra.
Zener Ra: “Looks like someone is all chained up.” He laughed cruelly with coldness in his tone.
She just glared at him. Like she could do anything. She was in a hopeless position now, with a huge migraine to top it of.
Zener Ra: “For all the centuries I have hunted you, it has finally paid off. I must give you credit, you are a pretty clever rat for this not so special cat.
Her temper had already taken her. Isn’t it predictable? She took a huge glob of saliva and spit it in his face. VERY BAD MOVE.
She got slapped, right in the cheek. Now it was worse then it seemed, because he wasn’t human. His strength was far more, as was he. Her whole check had internal bleeding and two teeth were knocked out. Her head snapped back as a hard crack could be heard.
He laughed. His men stared silently and seriously, as if wondering who’s side to choose. She slowly looked at him. Took in more saliva. Instead she took in a puddle of blood and teeth. She spit it in his face.
He lost all humanity and control as he collided his gun with her jaw. She was beaten as she last looked at his face, and was knocked out.
Her nickname was FullMoon. After destined time and many a challenge, it changed and forever remained HalfMoon. Throughout hundreds of years she has spread fear and wisdom at land and sea. In her human form, she had people run to the Secret Service for safety. They did not know she was a werewolf though she was dangerous enough to make first on the World’s Most Wanted list. In her werewolf form they knew her as the wolf forest guardian and hunted her for centuries. To other creatures of the day and night she was much more. Though they did not know her missions in life they did know those few rare facts. That her voice is so cold and threatening it would leave you shaking on your feet, looking for an exit. That she works for herself and herself only, showing you that she is not a werewolf to be messed with. That her whole family and closest relatives died around the time of her birth in a vicious war. Yet more they knew her sign, the medallion of the full moon she wears around her neck. That she was more forever changed when the moon took her, giving her well known rare seen silver werewolf form and her threatening cursed form, killing in a war at the age of six. She’s been hunted, shot, stabbed, hung, burned, chained, beaten, frozen, electrocuted, cut, bitten, poisoned, paralyzed, bleeding to death, her organs inside out,...everything under the moon. And yet here she is, hunting the hunters and hunted again throughout her life. She is a loner looking for her meaning and path in life. In a way, her path has only begun.
Lately her attire has tremendously changed. Instead of the usual white tanktop, her upper body is covered with a thin layer of body armor under a black tanktop, unnoticeable. The armor of a strange chemically changed group of rocks looks almost futuristic, ending at her waist. The small millimeter sized plates make there armor very flexible and fast to run in. How she crafted these rocks into identical shape and sewed it with rocks is but only to her knowledge. Her once light white pants were switched with long black baggy jeans containing many various pockets. In a layer within the pants is a skinnier armor of the same type yet with smaller pieces. The pockets, filled with scrolls, vials, and other things that can’t be identified. Her plain white shoes are switched with black ones, with spikes on the bottom for protection and easy grip. Like the pants, within is that slim plate of armor. To top it of is a heavy black trench coat that reaches a millimeter or so off the floor. The bottom is designed with three evenly spaced cut out triangles for easy maneuvering. The spaces are about five inches wide and reach up to her knees, getting thinner to the top.
Standing about five ten seven she has a well built figure, managing to stay one hundred one pounds. Appearing seventeen, her age and name are unknown though she acts like an adult. Her brown eyes match that of her frizzy hair that reaches her lower back. Having bought a black hair band made of many thick strands, she put her hair up high, well out of her face. From a previous visit to the Lekaya desert, her light skinned body is partially tanned.
Some scars can heal, others can’t. Some scars are still healing. War makes it almost inevitable to avoid these scars. A constant reminder of pain and suffering. It might explain why she wears a trench coat and long pants though she wouldn’t care what people would think in the first place. A deep one on her back a bit right of her spine stretches all the way from her neck to lower back. If she were to take her trench coat off, you could even see a small lump because of the skin being pushed out so hard. Three more just as big connected to make a triangular figure looks as if were pointing to the long one, as if a clue to something. One that appears like a large circular bruise as if she were stabbed in the stomach, and the blade twisted, yet how that healed is another mystery. Numerous tiny ones covered her back and arms, suggesting she blocked blades with her arms instead of using shields. Spiraling down her left foot is a cut as deep as the long one on her back. Other various ones are on her legs too. Perhaps the strangest ones of all are the ones were at her shoulders, circling around her armpits back to her shoulders.
Only two things seemed to remain from her old set, her medallion and ring. They are the two things she never takes off, be she in battle, sleeping or eating. A pure silver ring of the half-moon rests on her right hand. It was one of her mother’s, a noble werewolf warrior most precious jewel. Her medallion hangs on a medium thick silver chain and can be seen clearly on her chest. A token from her past, it alone is the only other thing that knows of her bloody past. With a 1 ¾ inch diameter, the silver full moon has its own secrets and power. The medallion keeps changing it’s dents to match those of the side of the moon facing her.