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I just thought I'd post some of this stuff for random reading....most of it is book quality, and though you won't be able to follow my coherent storyline, I would like to get a forum RP going. This would give you an idea of how the stuff works.


And maybe then I could get some extra T1 practice if any of you get good enough....



(current Intro in my character's story line....)

Demiere sat in a large cathedral, the priests chanting Latin in the background. The air hung low and dank with incense and the black granite walls were stained further from centuries of soot and grease from burning candles that made up the light of this manificient architecture in the evenings. Light hung low through the many open, square shaped windows, merely holes in the stone, no more than a square foot. The gothic beauty of the place created an umbrance that was only further offset by the centerpiece of the cathedral that created the mystic of the place as a whole. The light flooded in from the stained glass windows overlooking the altar. The light was dull and muted in this place, darkness perversed it's beauty. Part of it's intention. You're only salvation in this life was the <C>
mercy of the Creator in his infinite mercy. Demiere sneered, it offset his face somewhat, the low light of the moon, dulled red by the stained glass at his front, the image of the Light, carressed his raven hair. He was used to smiling, sneering was something he only did in the face of something that disgusted him. Ignorant farmers disgusted him, those without hope, who went through life with nothing more than hope with no ambition, disgusted him. And he himself, somewhat disgusted him. "Going against the teachings of millenia to gain what I've gained, and to sacrifice for that gain, that is what I am." It mattered not, this town, as dark as it was, held dark secrets, and he was here to meet someone. Someone that would make him stronger; even if it killed him. He shook his head and <C>
smirked. He'd been so long in the back water areas of Andor that he'd forgotten the pugnent stench of a city, it's life teaming with rotten heaps of rotting meat, butchers, tanneries, and human excrement that flowed freely throughout the streets: Dank, that was a word that suited this place. Even the cathedral in which he sat now....was dank. His hair, black as pitch as it was, contrasted sharply to his eyes. Dark azure spheres pierced out from his bangs, unsettling to most in his native Saldea, where almost all it's citizenry had dark eyes. His eyes was a strange trait of his family, passed down in every first son since the Breaking. Demiere's dark clothing fitted here as anywhere else he assumed. Simple yet elegant. He wore a high necked shirt in the Andoran fashion, a single edge of<C>
lace ran along the collar and down the back of his arms to the cuffs. His pants were of the same design, black and held a simple sword belt at his waist. Nothing special, nothing to catch notice, not here in this atmosphere, where the eyes of the people looked sunken and dull with the wear of years on them. The sword at his waist was laquered in green and black enamel of House Urrin of Saldea, and the flute, in it's solid, hearty leather were his only wepons....well that, and his gift and curse. The taint finally gone from the male half of the True Source, left it blessedly clean, and now he was free to channel the One Power at will. " I must become stronger" he said. And Demiere assumed the Flame and the Void, the ko'di. He fed all emotion into the flame and it grew. Anger, fear, <C>
anticipation, and exhaustion. He felt peace. Outside of the corners of his sight he saw it. The golden shining light of the male half of the True Source. Saidin beckonged him, it's rythmic pulsing called to him. And he seized it and took ahold of it. Drawing it into himself. The fire and light and ice of that torrent storm of chaos surged through his body and his eyes grew sharp, every corner of that dark chapel to some twisted form of God became clear, outside voices dulled by the stones of the place became clear. His senses, all of them sharpened. It begged to be used. Demiere t'si Fu Urrin held out his hand, and stuck his fingers apart. Weaving Fire, in simple fashion, small flames burst onto each one of his digits. All of a different color, each gave more light than all of the <C>
candles in this sanctuary. Outside someone was approaching. He prepared several weaves. He would be recognized, this day they would know his name, and what he was: Asha'man. <E> (could've made it longer, but meh....)

Outside a differing sound walked along the cobblestoned road. He heard the whispering of those outside and looked around. People were hurrying very quickly outside, faster than the normal bustle of those who wanted things to be done with for the day before the footpads, and thieves came out. People didn't look fondly upon a knive in the ribs for their money. Neither did he for the most part. Something tickled his memory about that sound. Something he'd heard while drinking some of his favored plum wine. He sighed, something, but he was too drunk at that time to remember anything. The sound came closer, closer, closer.....His memory triggered. His eyes widened, and then he smiled. Crossing his arms he comtemplated walking outside. He was supposed to be meeting others. He assumed at least.<C
The Power
surged through him, the conversation outside was....interesting. He assumed Belmont was out there, and someone else. Someone he didn't know. Their conversation was peculiar to say the least, and Demiere decided to listen a while longer. He unfolded his arms and walked over to the massive wood doors, framed in wrought iron hinges, and intricately filled with gold laquer in odd symbols. A strange language that resembled the Old Tounge. His walk had a saunter of arrogance to it that suggested he knew <C>
what he was about. Cat Crosses the Courtyard was what the Warders he had trained with called it. And he smiled, flowing through his Bond with the Green that had bonded reminding him that he himself was a Warder, twinged of irritation. "She's annoyed again." Settling himself against the cold stone, the power making every crevice of it's hard structure apparent, Demiere listened. Not seeing a need to interupt. He severed the weaves he'd prepared. And the balls of fire, woven just so to alter color, he also severed. The chapel plunged into darkness. Or relevant darkness. Either way his form was silouhetted in the umbrance of night and the only light that filtered far enough to reach him was muted reds and greens and blues from the stained glass at the front of the altar. <C>
He spoke to himself silently. "No need to interrupt just yet." It was always smart to determine the situation incase you were walking into a fight you didn't want to be in the middle of,......Or something like that.


Demiere listened on ,as he assumed the man whoms name was Belmont, voice became venom. "Have you realized who I am yet?" He said. It seems the two men were having a stand off of sorts. Talks of lineage pervaded the conversation. Through it all he never sensed any fear, not exactly a want to kill either, maybe mutual hatred. Hatred of the past. He didn't really care, nor did he care if one died. The strongest survived. So he had learned. But he was becoming bored with lisenting, he had come for but one purpose. He was a loner by nature, and if his name was to be put on the Traitor's Tree as part of some sick twisted plot by Taim, then he had to become stronger if he was to survive. Asha'man hunting squads were not gentle in taking the life of rouges....and now he was labled as such. <C>
Strength, greater power, was what Demiere needed. He'd only achieve his potential through combat. He had to master the Power, and destroy those who stood in his path. A harsh reality that he despised, but he wasn't ready to die, until he could contact the Dragon without being murdered on sight, and making it to the Last Battle, Tar'mon Gaidin, he wouldn't die until those things happened. The ends justified the means, and he needed support, some place that he could rest without having to kill to gain that extra moment of the liberty of life. How many had he'd killed now? Too many to count. Recently had been Dananan, Stormlord of Avalon, of the VAoA. "He was nothing." The Principality of God's malevolent Will, the Celestial Leial of Seliee. "Truly the first fight I had struggle for life."<C>
A tournament of strength, a sick twisted game where participants killed one another for gain. He'd won, and spared his opponent, a girl with magic arrows who cried out "INUYASHA" too many times for him to count. Demons, Half animals, Celestials, people with strangely proportioned eyes larger than their heads and almost no nose, and many others. How many would fall for his goal? "All will fall." Demiere decided no more procrastination was needed. He wove Air and shoved the doors of the cathedral flung open, with violent force they boomed as they smacked the back of the stone walls. Moonlight flooded his eyes, and through the Power, it seemed as if he'd stepped into broad daylight. "Now or never." He began striding towards the the two standing in the town common, both dwarfed by an aged <C>
statue of the fiefdom's deity. He saw them notice him. "Good, the more, the merrier." <E>

Demiere flashed a smile. As he strode towards the two he felt their tension......They'd be watching his body movements. The one with his hand on his blade's hilt especially. He exuded the aura of Warder, like a wolf that had nothing left to live for. If he was a wolf, then Demiere was the opposing panther, slinking his way toward them in a saunter. Deadly and lilthe he felt a long distance connection to the swordsman, and he may even train with him one day if the other pary sees fit. For now, Demiere was here to see Belmont. Without looking at the swordsman Demiere wove threads of Air, his hand would be stuck gripping his sword hilt. Nothing to worry about. At least that he could see. Belmont stared at him and with the question came a response. "Something fancy?" He arrived to the side<C>
of the swordsman. "Be at ease." He looked at the swordsman and severed the flows of Air binding his hand to the hilt of his blade, Demiere returned his stare to Belmont. "Lord Belmont." He bowed just his head. He showed servitude to no one. Kings he showed the proper amount of respect to, being thirteenth in line for the Saldean throne, after his other cousins and assuming Tenobia met an untimely end, he had learned bowing and scraping and unsightly trait for a noble of High birth. "I've come to speak with you this night. If you'll hear me, I have questions that need answering." The grey eyes pierced deep, the man had seen horrors not unlike Demiere. And he was reminded of Dumai's Wells, shaking the thought away he returned to the present. They stared at him now. "Oh, forgive my manners<C>
. I am Demiere t'si Fu Urrin of Saldea, Highseat of House Urrin and.......ex Jead'en al siswai Asha'man aman. I am in need of your assistance." <E>


Demiere smirked turning it into a twisted sneer. "Psionics is a trivial game, twisting the mind into manipulating others and objects around them. I, my lord, channel the male half of the One Power. The force that drives the universe and turns the Wheel of Time. I will admit to the talent of Compulsion coming close to something of Psionics." Demiere caught himself. "I digress. I hail from a continent across the ocean, a land called Saldea. Drow are something I encountered recently......Pathetic as they are, I gladly confess I am not of their race. I come here today in need of your assitance. I would not speak so publicy...." The citizens around them, scurrying about the square would scurrying less and paying more attention and he frowned. " I should make us private, should I not?" <C>
Demiere nodded answering his own question. Drawing on the Five Powers: of Fire and Spirit and Air he wove a Ward around them. While the air would seem clear no sound would intrude. Neither would any of the conversation leak to the masses of what this foreign lord was doing visiting their leader. "I am a simple human. However I am being chased constantly by those I was cast out from. This is not something I'd speak of casually, but I feel as if those who pursue me are on my trail and time is of the essence. " The air was quite where they were. The space protected by his Ward. The time had come to ask his question. "I wish to ask your protection. I have heard that your eyes and ears reach far and would not have known about you at all had I not asked for some 'plum wine' at a local tavern.<C>
I was disappointed to learn that it's very expensive in this realm. Along with a great many things that are plentiful in my homeland. Again my mind wanders, forgive me. In return for your protection I will fight your enemies, in both body and spirit, and carry out any 'cleaning' you need done. I'm very efficient at both. Saidin is a deadly effective weapon when it comes to killing." Sighing he had finished his main statement. Now onto the finer details. "I would never have considered asking you in such an open space, but again, time is of the essence. And of course if you say no," Demiere pulled out his wash leather money purse and dumped the heavy, gold, Tar Valon crowns on the ground, they're luster illuminated brillantly by the light of the moon. " I would purchase your silence about<C>
this encounter. It would be very.....unpleasant if I were ever caputerd." He waited in silence. If he was denied he would make them see his worth, he would not be denied sanction this time. He'd come too far, too long to be rejected. He would make them see his power, his worth.<E>

Demiere looked at his potential leige-lord. "I will serve you, if you wish, to fight your enemies, they will become my enemies as well. But...," His voice trailed off, someone had crossed his ward. The weave of Fire and Spirit reverberated around him, he could sense that it was a women....who had the intention of approaching him. She was silent, he could hear her with his Power enhanced senses, but too quite to be approaching them for a benevolent purpose. His azure eyes grew cold, distant. His pupils, sharpened by the Power, grew larger. All that could be seen were onyx holes staring out from his head. Demiere hunched slightly. His voice, which had trailed off now became pure venom. Full of hate and bloodlust, the only thought that trailed through his head before it grew foggy was <c>
DANGER .Demiere lashed out with the Power. Flows of Air struck out behind him, he grabbed the throat of the one approaching, "Djevik K'Shar...Djevik K'Shar......Djevik K'Shar....DJEVIK K'SHAR!!!!" Demier spun to meet the face of a choking woman, her eyes bulging. He could see his weave, bulging around her neck, choking the life out of her. "Yes....Djevik K'Shar" He looked at Belmont for askance. If he nodded, he would break this one, the one who threatened him. Demiere shook his head....something was wrong...."No.." He struggeld. "Not a threat." he whispered, and his head cleared. Her eyes were turning bloodshot now, her face blue.....His eyes widened, and he severed the weave as fast as he could manage. The women fell to the ground, and Demiere collapsed. "Aghh..." The fog was <C>
clearing now. He became conscious of what he'd almost done. "Forgive me." He almost hurled himself at the women. He formed the complex weave of Earth and Fire and Spirit and Water and Air that was the formation of Delving. He pressed a finger against her neck, where his weave had almost snapped her neck....."You'll be fine." He didn't feel an apology was really needed for the woman. She seemed a commoner, and commoners shouldn't meddle in the affairs of nobles. However, he did believe he owed someone an apology. He turned to look at the effiminate man that owned these lands. "Lord Belmont forgive me....That....happens sometime, it was the after effect of the Dark One's taint on the Source. If you wish her to die for intruding then I will do it. If you wish her to live, she'll only have<C>
have a very large, very sore, bruise to deal with. I have not a great amount of Talent in the area of Healing, so I'm afraid I can't do much for that, but I can take some of her soreness away?" Demiere felt his chances at consolidation and protection had just vanished. He stood somewhat still....he didn't show any outward sign of emotion, but internally he felt....uneasy. Would this foreign lord cared if he had accidentaly killed one of his citizens. "Either way Lord Belmont, I apologize. " He stared at the women, his eyes azure again, the pupils no longer dialated. THe moon shown behind him, silohutting (goddamn spelling) his face in darkness. <E>



Demiere stared at the man called Belmont. Had he just said to call him 'Joshua'? Yes he thought that's what the man had said. The stars were out now, the brilliant purple and orange hues of the brillant sunset that seemed to exude an aura of celestial doing was finally ending. The indigo stars shone with a thousand, brilliant sparkles that also seemed to bode of some higher power, not this twisted power of God that was held over the people of this land. Places where redemption and salvation were only seen through sacrifice. He looked at the man again, a man he though he might share some astral connection to, some predetermined meeting of fate that would alter lives. The man exuded a feeling of calm befitting a king commanding his servants, commanding armies and ordering excutions with<C>
out the batting of an eyelash. His silver colored hair and eyes now shone with the light of the stars above and the street lamps, now being lit by couriers whose task it was to do said task, softened his features maybe even more, making him almost seem a women. It unsettled Demiere to see such a thing, as he had no doubts in his mind that this man who seemed a women, would slit the throat of a person he thought would betray. Demiere almost saw himself in this man during his bouts of madness. Demiere looked after the woman, he steps echoing off the brick buildings as her boots struck the cobblestone. Her frame swayed as she almost seemed to run. "I apologize." he said softly. He nodded slightly, the apology wouldn't do, but there was nothing he could do for the woman. He couldn't stop <C>
the bouts when they came to him, and when they did his only thought was survival. Anything in his way would perish, he had once mistaken friend for foe in one of those bouts and that was a mistake he had promised to never make again. He would always control his channeling, but he couldn't stop channeling, not unless he died, it was life in purest form in that torrent storm of fire and ice that suffused him with his power. Indeed, being severed would be worsed than death. So he would guard this man with his life, become stronger, and learn to control the bouts, and kill those that pursued him. The Dark One's taint on the male half of the True Source had been lifted after almost three millenium of pain and tourture upon those who touched that forbidden power. Those who did pursue it were<C>
destined to touch it again and go mad, and rot alive. But Demiere was afraid that he had a small sliver of the taint in him, on his soul, tainting him until death. His azure eyes returned to the man whom he had come to see. "Yes, I suppose you're right." Demiere extended his hand towards the man, his azure eyes meeting the grey, almost white eyes, of Joshua. "Those who are with you should address you by name." "Joshua" he added, almost as afterthought. The last remnants of twilight still remained, and were quickly fading into the muted yellow glow of the street lights. The last rays of the sun disappeared over the horizon, and it seemed as if Demiere had not left empty handed. It seemed an alliance had been formed. It seemed as if a there was a new beginning. One of strength and <C>
power. An Age to end all Ages. This alliance would commence to conquer all realms. Demiere thought this sounded like a good thought, so he put it into words. "I think this will be a new beginning......for both of us." <E> (I had to put some sort of corny ending there....*le sigh*


Demiere smelled the sour-sweet breath on Joshua Belmont's breath. The Kanj symbol appeared in midair and he felt something intwining it self onto him, sinking into him....and he stared stunned. "You Bonded me?..." and then he smiled. "Yes, a Bond, perfect for what I feel we have." The words he spoke didn't chill Demiere in the least. He expected them. "I would expect anything less than death. I know the feeling of betrayel, rest assured that it will not come from me, the sting of such hurts. I say we speak of the finer details at a later time. The most important thing now is room and board and privacy." the crowds were gathering, more steadily, now under the street lights. The sounds of traveling troubadours and bards telling their stories and playing music was drifting from the few inns<C
on this street. Demiere decided this would not be the best place to continue this conversation. "Joshua, I believe you have a castle in this town, yes? I believe those towers, are it?" The towers Demiere pointed to were on the horizon, where the sun would rise the next morning. He had been scouting the grounds, so he was prepared for the next action. He began walking towards an alleyway hidden in darkness. "You need to follow me, I don't want others to see this." He nodded towards the umbrancing entrance of the alley and began walking, not seeing if his new ally was following. <E>


Demiere nodded thoughtfully, he realized neither of them realized what his abilities were. An in detail description so saidin would be provided for him later. But that.....thing....he did was something similar to his own Warder bond that his Aes Sedai had laid upon him much the same way. Demiere strode off into the allyway. The darkness, complete and enshrouding, it felt like some entity that could swallow him at any moment. He would make sure no one saw what he was about to do. people would be scared if they saw and then loose tounges would fly. He turned a corner in the darkness already knowing this back alley behind the monumental cathedral. Demiere still holding the Power waited for Joshua to round the corner. "Now....I will teach you the first of my abilities. There are two halves<C>

SOrry for so much of it, but that's about 1/2 of one night's RP in what I am with Josh, what I'd really like to do is teach you all T1 so I could forum practice.....I'll post one of JOsh's attacks that way you all can see his level, he's one of the best astral mechanics/temporal mechanics masters on YIM.

This guy's grasp of the English language is fucking insane....(excuse the wordage but there's nothing else for it.)

(Josh a.k.a Belmont or astral entity Josh) Belitting himself he stood there vibrating outside the matrix of the creationism inside the flawless splendor of presentation. This presentation was flawless existence confined within the prime plane. He was represented as an idol of biblicasy, absolution of duality suspended within the totality of kinetic dialation. An eruption of pillars poured effortlessly around his form. Sacrosantic and fautless this ebony tides twisted, contorting acrossed the grounds like demonic vixens. Contracting features acrossed the majestry laid before him as emerald sheen ilumed off the curvature of his semblance. A semblance self sustaining and disdain within the ambience of the surronding propositions. This being truely was within the probability of ignor
Josh... lcok: ignorance^
Josh... lcok: for confronting such a tyrant prowess. Satanic avatar of balanced with perfection of germinating hybridization of celestial physicality. His resonance neither faultered or decinigraded for it was within a template of consistancy. A continium of changing and constantly redirectiong its compisition. Jovial vocality played a ballad within the warriors before him , the aura twisting and converging around his formulations " Come hither and find yourself within the grasps of limbo" this reciting was purely out of acceptance for the fallies that this guise would hold up. HIs appearance where a bit misleading. He was a youth of misconcepted age. Long slendor chestnut hair that cascaded acrosed his facial expressions representing dislike towards the one known as Alexander, yes they have crossed paths
Josh... lcok: before and it was perminately etched into the back of his mind. How this loathing sensation inspired him to cast recoking towards his direction. The wind pulled his flailing emerald robe, that twinkled like satin, acrossed his thin physique. He held an intuitative sentiment of understanding in this amber eyes that dialted as the sun washed over him. His robe scowered acrossed the ground and dug within the pivoting of his feet as he took steps forward. Held within his hand was a sentient weapon, a modification of a guardian that was an heirloom of the astral plane itself. Along the transcedental base was a magenta color that rode along the midsection and shifted to a crimson salmon that rode along towards the cresent tip that arched like a scythe with studs ,like that of morbidity, that bul
Josh... lcok: buldged from the refulgance of the tip.


(this is one of his attacks...)

This spatial kinetic shield that formed into a circulate projection simply faded from his presence. This plane was held within a network of subdivisions that he cohesively connected himself upon prior to the introduction. Such a subliminal pronounciation wasn't negotiable for it was held in secrasy. His hands were dwelling within the confines of the subdivisions so there were loop holes within the shield. As it formed it didn't override the foundations of a silver string spiritually tied to his ascendant soul. His longevity aspired upon this string and it was surronded by the spatial lockdown yet nonetheless he still had connections concealing outside the plane still, reguardless of the briddle attempt constituting him
Josh... lcok: to useless prowess. The absolution of conscious light that represented itself as omnipotent presence was a directive juresdiction of the overwhelming duality of the absolute, the true god. This transcendetal light poured into his being as infinite probability become acknowledged to his presence. Astral chi poured from synpatic connections of his astral body and broke through the thresshold of the barrier concealing him inside it. Then this transcedental light that was the conscious conscience , represented as the celestial behalf of the absolute, embedded him with new supremacy. There was within his instintanious thoughts a fire, represented as the blue prints of all creation known as the khindilina. A fire sought by fallen angels and demons alike. This fire was known as the holy fire of the holy ghost. The imperium of it's attributes was the configurations of the desin of existence. Manipulating certain aspects of this fire that crackled in his hands would directly influence the corporeality of this females physical shell. Reformatting anti signature lock downs into this fire would redirect the authentication of ones existence. The very being, temporal and spatial would begin to fade from the weave of the plane.


(Like I said he's insane when it comes to skill.....he posts are often considered god modding because of such.....skill.)