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Semiautomagic. (A Modern magic RP. Anything goes)
#1
At the dawn of the new millenium (this one. The 21st one :P) mankind became more aware of the things that 'go bump in the night'. Arcane persons and creatures of unknown power and multitude. To enforce authority over these people and creatures, a group was formed thousands of years ago to protect the mundane beings from the arcane's magic, and they from the mundane's technology.

The Keepers of The Charter of Magnus (Or simply, The Keepers)
The Charter of Magnus was a sort of Constitution written by a 15th century alchemist, detailing what the arcane and mundane communities can and cannot do, in regards to dealing with one another. For instance, a werewolf is never allowed to use his feral form against a mundane person, even in self-defense, due to risk of infection. On the other hand, a mundane is not allowed to possess, purchase or manufacture silver munitions without a special permit issued by The Keepers. And, considering the vast amount of magical power at The Keepers' disposal, they can actually enforce these laws within minutes of an infraction. But above all, there are five laws, referred to as the Forbidden Five, and all are punishable by death.
  • The Arcane Forbidden Five
    1. Thou shalt not kill by arcane force.
    2. Thou shalt not enforce thy will upon another through arcane means.
    3. Thou shalt not enthrall or otherwise enchant a person or persons.
    4. Thou shalt not transfigure or mutate a person or persons.
    5. Thou shalt not affect or alter the natural course of events, either through time or undeath.
It is these five laws on which the whole Charter of Magnus was written on. The laws apply also to mundane people and technology designed specifically for use as a weapon against arcane beings.

The Oathbreakers
A group of anarchistic renagades that broke away from The Keepers around the 15th or 16th century. Since then they have grown into a group just as powerful as The Keepers, using their magic and powers to incite a war between the arcane and mundane communities. They have no law structure or constitution to govern their actions, and are purely chaotic in their methods.

Profile Form
Name:
Gender:
Age:
Race: (What species you belong to. Human, vampire, elvish, fae, werewolf, w/e)
Languages: (Languages your char. is familiar with. If non-human, they should know at least one arcane language)
Sexuality:
Alliance: (Keepers, Oathbreakers, or Neutral)
Occupation: (day job and/or arcane job)
Nationality: (Country of origin/heritage)
Personality: (how your character thinks and behaves)
Appearance: (how your character looks and dresses)
Height:
Combat techniques: (fighting styles and weapons training)
Skills: (non-magic skills, powers and abilities. Racial abilities go here.)
Magic: (Any and all spells and magic-like abilities your character has)

====================

Name: Astrianna
Gender: Female
Age: 18
Race: Werewolf
Languages: English, Fenris (werewolf dialect)
Occupation: Coffeehouse Barista/Warmage (magician/swordsman)
Alliance: Keepers
Nationality: Scottish
Sexuality: Bisexual
Personality: Is very outspoken, and rarely cares what others think of her. Prone to outbursts of anger, especially when people assume she can't or won't do something, or that she's 'dangerous' simply because she's a werewolf.
Skills: Near-omnipotent master of magic. Werewolf heritage, including all inherited powers, abilities and weaknesses. Her werewolf heritage and her mastery of magic tend to meld during her emotional outbursts, causing random objects to vanish, explode, or any number of other unintentional effects.
Appearance: Is lithe and trim, due to years of swordsmanship training, as well as her inherited high metabolism. Dresses in a leather bodice-like vest and silk robe, lined with light, ultra-strong chainmail. On her back is a carved wooden staff that is actually two razor-sharp swords that can be pulled apart and locked together to form a double-edged sword, her preferred weapon. She has shoulder-length brown hair, piercing acid-green eyes, and sharp fangs. People have asked for her measurements; most have ended up incinerated or had their throats cut out.
Height: 5'8"
Combat techniques: Nidan (Lv. 2 Blackbelt) of Goju-Ryu (Hard/soft) Karate, including kobudo (weapon training) in both the bo (staff) and dual wakazashi (shortsword)
Other weapons she is capable of using, although with no formal training include:
Manticore Industries VMS300: A Variable Munitions handgun, similar in design to a GLOCK 17. Is made specifically of noon-forged steel, the only naturally antimagical material on earth. Thus, each bullet fired is charged with antimagic, cutting through sheilds and arcane resistances with equal ease.
Magic:
  • Astrianna's collection of spells.
    Chain Lightning: Bolt of raw magic leaps from her fingertips and electrocutes the target, and can leap to other targets nearby, doing slightly less damage.
    Airwave: A small sonic boom, used to knock back enemies, either in front of her or surrounding her. Can also be used to launch Anna into the air.
    Hell's Gatekeeper: Astrianna's werewolf rage channelled into a flaming explosion underneath the target, catching them in a pillar of hellfire.
    Firebrand: In human form, Anna can pitch fireballs and cast streamers of flames. In werewolf form, it sets her fur on fire as both a defense and a weapon.
    Flashfreeze: Icy sparks fly from Astrianna's fingertips, freezing anything they touch as if they were drops of liquid nitrogen.
    Divine Intervention: A single-shot protection spell, absorbing some of the damage from an enemy spell or energy-based attack. Physical attacks have the same effect.
    Mudslide: Turns the terrain into an equivilant slippery substance, making standing, running, and so on extremely difficult. Turns stone into sand, or earth into mud, but never both at the same time.
    Overgrowth: Casts a handful of sparks on the ground, causing thorny vines, ivys and creepers to spring from the ground and snare anyone who steps in or on them. With focus, Anna can manipulate them like tendrils, but it prevents her from doing anything else.
    Touch of Corrosion: Anna's hands glow, and anything that she touches will corrode (if possible) as if infected by a metal-eating disease.
    Waterfall: Anna conjures a mass of water, either firing it at the opponent from her palm or dropping it on them from above. Can also be used to propel Anna into the air from below, like Airwave.
====================

Astrianna sighed, combing her hair out of her face for about the millionth time in the last hour. No matter how carefully you tie back your hair, a few errant hairs always manage to escape the elastic. She sighed and went back to fixing the expresso machine.
One thing you have to know about wizards, sorcerers and other magical practictioners is that nomatter how carefully they supress their powers, they always manage to screw up some piece of technology sooner or later. For Astrianna, it was the expresso machine of the coffee shop where she worked. As soon as she got it working again, she sparked an idea. She lay her left palm on the side of the steam boiler and pushed; not physically, but metaphysically. She pushed a little bit of her own life energies into the machine. With the magic just sitting in the metal of the expresso machine, she could let her powers loose without setting the machine haywire again. It actually surprised her that no-one had thought of such a thing before. Or if they had, that they never told her about it. SAhe dusted her hands off, which still tingled slightly from the magic she'd just cast, and started pouring out cappuchinos again for the business lunch rush.
She hated the job, to be quite honest. The uniforms were the ugliest shade of brown she'd ever seen, and Anna had fought goblin armies, so that was saying something. Her shirt was a size or two too small, so she had to mind bending over or leaning, lest her chest burst the buttons again. She was also forced to wear a mini-skirt. The one article of clothing she hated. She liked skirts, and she liked shorts, but the two ideas melded together like this just annoyed her. She sighed and continued to serve the coffee to the cold automatons that filed out of the office buildings across the street, praying for her shift to end.
An hour or so later she got her wish, and immediately changed into her preferred clothes. Tight black jeans (her 'asspants' as she liked to call them) and an equally tight top. It was a black cotton and blood-red lace affair, designed to look a little like a victorian corset or bodice. She loved that sort of thing. It made her look gothic, like the vampiresses she admired so much. Astrianna thought they were beautiful, like they were carved out of a solid block of innuendo. Maybe that was why her kind hated them so much; werewolves just couldn't muster the same kind of sex appeal, nomatter how hard they tried. Astrianna pushed that train of thought aside and threw on her blood-red silk robe; her mark as a Keeper of the Charter of Magnus. But she just called herself a peacekeeper most of the time. She liked the way the robe felt when she wore it though. It had a hundred little dimensional holes in it, which were pockets she'd enchanted it with, carrying spell ingredients and weapons; anything she'd need in a pinch, she just had to think of it and it would appear in hand.
She walked down the street, intent on heading 5 blocks over to the one coffee shop that actually made something halfway decent...

(feel free to jump in any time folks ^^; )
Gabumon Loverz
Renamon's Army
Shadow Dragon Pack (SDP)
The OCA
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#2
=D

Name: Erethzium Noractus
Gender: male
Age: 28
Race: Dragon
Languages: English
Sexuality: straight
Alliance: Keepers
Occupation: none
Nationality: Tohcknarian
Personality: Shady, likes to keep to himself.
Appearance: Blue scales, dark yellow skin from underneath his chin all the way down his belly and to his crotch and the underside of his tail.
Height: 7' 8"
Combat techniques: Taekwondo
Skills: Fire breath (duh)
Magic: Ninjitsu, some magic.

Ninjitsu:

Baukenryuu(Fire dragon): Summons a large dragon of fire to destory enemies.

Kouenka(Fire Petal): Shoots flaming rose petals from hands

Fuujin(Wind Blade): Throws blades of wind

Bushini No Jitsu: Summons 3 clones to help fight.

Rageskai(Lightning Strike Of Destruction): Summons down a lightning bolt from the heavens, striking all nearby enemies.

Regular Magic:

Lord Of Vermillion: summons down a huge explosion of fire and thunder, 30 feet in circumfrence.

Sightrasher: shoots a fireball in 8 different directions
Gabumon Loverz
Renamon's Army
Shadow Dragon Pack (SDP)
The OCA
Veemon's Followers
The Sabre Clan
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#3
Name: Rick Razar
Gender: Male
Age: 29
Race: Raptor
Languages: English, Raptor talk
Sexuality: Straight
Alliance: Neutral
Occupation: Secret Assasin
Nationality: Maryland
Personality: Very sly and sneaky
Appearance: From head to toe his flesh is a pitch black with red stripes over his slim body. Has razor sharp claws and large talons on his clawed toes. Wears a very tight black skin tight shirt with baggy black cargo pants. His forarms wear a black "sleeves" in which his forearm blades retract into.
Height: Standing up straight 6'1" From tail to snout: 6'7"
Combat techniques: Stealth, Uses Duel Forearm blades the extend from his forarms and retract at will aswell as small hook blade on the end of his tail.
Skills: Primal Rage, Enhance smell for blood
Magic:

Stealth: Just what it says he goes invisible
Vanish: Durring a fight if it gets to hairy he can simply vanish in a puff of smoke.
Poison/Crippling Dagger: With his choice he can poison a person with a damage poison or crippling poison so a person cannot move...only one poison can be active
Guroat: Makes a deep gash in a person causing them to bleed
Smokescreen: Fills and entire room/area with black smoke so he can swiftly move within a fight.
Afterimage: Can make multiple images of himself to walk around and move but cannot attack.
Disguise: Cant disguise himself as a person who he has seen before.

I'll post my profile for now ^.^ this looks really good
The OCA
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#4
Profile
====
Name: Dmitri
Gender: Male
Age: 27
Race: Human
Languages: Russian, Ukrainian, Czech, English, German, French, Italian, Latin
Sexuality: Straight
Alliance: Neutral
Occupation: Mercenary
Nationality: Ukrainian
Personality: Calm and collected, Dmitri rarely does anything without considering its consequences. He's not usually prone to shows of outward emotion of any kind and tends to mind his own business, unless it happens to be his business, in which case he takes an immediate and keen interest in it. He has been hired on by both factions numerous times, but never takes a contract he feels is morally wrong. Speaks in a deep low voice with a harsh accent.
Appearance: 170lbs., slim but fit build. Albino with red eyes. Tends to wear dark clothing, and always wears a long, dark coat. It's a personal trademark of his.
Height: 5'10"
Combat techniques: Muay thai, bojutsu, aikido.
Skills: acrobatically agile
Magic: telepathy, psychokenesis. Elemental magic (fire, lightning, wind, water, earth, light, and darkness)
====================

Dmitri sat patiently on the roof of the 64 storey building, his legs crosse, sipping at some water he conjured for himself. He had been waiting for six hours, watching the buildling across the street for a sign of his target. Finally, a light on the 57th floor turned on. He took out his monocular and peered through it. "Ah yes," he murmured to himself in Russin. "That must be the man I am looking for." He put the monocular away and closed his eyes, his mind reaching out to the man in the room.

His lip twitched a little, as he felt the man's subconscious attempt to protect his mind from Dmitri's practiced intrusion. In another moment, he was eavesdropping on the man's every perception and thought. The information he was looking for was in the front of the man's mind. He watched through the man's eyes as he got himself ready for bed, eventually turning off the lights, his secret already robbed from him.

Dmitri opened his eyes again, his mind back in his own body. He stood and touched a finger to his temple.
Учитель. Я завершил задачу.
(Master I have completed my task.)

His master replied, as always, in German.
[i]Ausgezeichnet. Ich erwarte deine R
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#5
Astrianna froze, her coffee half-way between the mailbox she'd set it on and her lips. She froze because she had picked up the one thing her senses were always tuned for, both physical and metaphysical. The 2 highest of the supreme laws were just broken. The law against murder by magic, and the law against the invasion of the mind.

You must understand that magic comes from lifeforce. Much like electricity is harnessed, refined lightning, magic is harnessed, refined lifeforce. To kill using magic; to end life with the very essence of life itself, is a truely perverse thing indeed. And it was the one thing that pissed Astrianna off more than anything else. she closed her eyes and reached out over the leylines; the channels of natural magic that ran through the universe, feeling around for expended magic. The technical term for expended mana was numina, but Anna just called it burnoff.
Gabumon Loverz
Renamon's Army
Shadow Dragon Pack (SDP)
The OCA
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#6
In the downtown district of the city where the streets were faintly lit by street lights. A small wind blew through the district blowing small pieces of loose paper across the road and sidewalk. One of the papers flew up and got caught on something sharp and metallic, connected to the sharp metal was a thick black broad flexible tail, that curled up to the face of its owner whoe was sitting utop a burnt out street post "Damn paper.." Whoever he was let out a long hiss and threw the paper away. All of a sudden he heard footseps below him "..dinner.." he grinned widely showing his large row of razor sharp teeth.
The OCA
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#7
OOC: I am SO in! lol

Name: Frea
Gender: Female
Age: 643
Race: Daemon
Languages: Has spells to understand languages so... haha... this isn't any issue. :P
Sexuality: None.
Alliance: Oathbreakers
Occupation: Murderer (on contract)
Nationality: Hell :P
Personality: You're going to have to see for yourself! lol
Appearance: Human-like in appearance, she is 1.48 metres tall and moderately built as well as young looking. She has small leathery wings on her back with a wingspan of 0.77 metres. Her skin is pale with faint red patterns that seem to be constantly shifting. Her left eye is deep green, her other is fiery orange. Her hair is dark red, almost black, and around a metre long. Her hands and feet are small. Her fingers are thin, delicate looking.
Height: 1.48m
Combat techniques: Elemental Combat
Skills: Connection (drains another living thing's life force, requires physical contact), Fire bending (controls fire element), Air bending (controls air element), Glyphs (uses certain symbols to channel her Fire/Air bending into complex spells)
Magic: Arcanite (general spell that draws arcane energy into her body for rapid spellcasting)

IC:

Frea stood utterly still in the shadows of an alley, almost becoming a part of them as she watched for her target "This is going to be a long day..." She blinked as he, some man named Tristan, exited the cafe "Ohh, taking a day off, eh? Naught, naughty..." She smirked and heaved herself up onto the roof of the nearest building. She watched as someone killed in the distance and laughed quietly "Now that was stupid. He's going to have the Keepers all over him... this'll be interesting..."
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#8
The dark figure used the end of his tail to hook onto the street light to make himself hang from it then used stealth to blend in with his surroundings waiting for his prey to walk by.
The OCA
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#9
Name: Robert Cunningham, though he does not answer to this anymore
Gender: Male
Age: 25
Race: Human
Languages: English, Arabic, Deamonic
Sexuality: Straight
Alliance: Neutral, though grouped with the Oathbreakers by the Keepers because of his methods and deeds
Occupation: Used to be an archeology student, now unemployed, simply travels from place to place on a beat-up motorcycle pursuing what he seeks, he makes a fair amount of money from time to time selling artefacts to interested parties
Nationality: American
Personality: Formerly polite and cheerful, now quiet and withdrawn, speaking only when it suits his purposes, has an unsettling aura of madness about him
Appearance: Deathly pale, with black, gray streaked hair and black eyes. Has a thin, muscular build covered with dirtied and dusty clothes, usually earth toned polos with matching khaki pants, tan colored boots and a brown leather jacket that had seen better days. Branded onto his chest is an eight pointed star. Around his neck is a pendant containing a green, glimmering jewel with resembles an eye of sorts.
Height: 6'1
Combat techniques: He carries with him a scimitar taken from Arabs he had killed at the beginning of his journey and over time has become an accomplished swordsman despite having no weapon training of any kind in his life. Even without that weapon, he posesses considerable skill in hand to hand combat, usually improvised.
Skills: Blessings from his new masters has granted Robert superhuman strength, speed, and resilience.
Magic: The mark burned upon his chest grants him his physical blessings, and the jeweled pendant grants him visions of things to come. The more of his sought after artefacts he finds, the more power he gains.

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

The Mark...
The Eye...
The Sword...
The Steed...
The Armor...
The Helm...

Riding into town, these thoughts ran through the mind of the young man as he mentally checked off what he had and what he needed to find. he had already posessed the mark, burned onto his flesh by his newfound gods, the eye he had plucked from the ancient treasure trove of a long dead dragon. Upon looking through that gem, he saw that he would find the sword in the mountains west of the city, he could practically feel it's unholy grip in his hands. Pulling into a small hotel's parking lot, he had determined that this would be where he would set up camp for now until he could divine the sword's exact location.

After checking in, the young man, known as Robert before his quest began, laid his duffel down on the hotel's bed and sorted through them. The duffel's contents were few at best, a few random artefacts gleaned from random places so that he might barter them for money, an Arabian scimitar, taken from some nomadic tribesmen who had gotten in his way two years ago, and from the same time period, the item that had started his quest, a book, the Necrodomo Codex. It was from this book, that he learned the truth, it was from here that he resolved himself to his fate, his destiny.

Walking into the bathroom, he took a look in the mirror, his face was covered with the dust of a very long road-trip, unshaven, looking very much like the rest of him. While he felt that such asthetic hygene was becoming increasingly below him, he knew that he must keep up appearences so that he could stay under the radar of those that would try to stop him from accomplishing his great task. Undressing, he set to showering, shaving and using a pair of scissors left behind by a previous tennant, cutting his hair. Once this was done, he redressed, locked his hotel room door and left the building, to seek information about the mountains to the west.

While the eye gave him a glimpse of future events, his mastery of it was not yet complete and had to do most of the divining work himself. He walked down the streets, looking for a library, or anything that could give him the information he required. Spying a nearby coffee shop, he decided to go inside hoping it would have a computer as a lot of places like that do nowadays. He tucked his pendant into his shirt, keeping the eye hidden from those that may recognize it or it's power.
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#10
Name: Classified.
Gender: Male
Age: Classified
Race: Human
Languages: English, Russian, German, Japanese, various Arabian dialects, Spanish, Manderin, Cantonese, Korean.
Sexuality: Classified
Alliance: MI5
Occupation: Agent of Her Majesty's Government
Nationality: British
Personality: Classified
Appearance: Varies.
Height: 1 metre 94.
Combat techniques: Various.
Skills: Marksmanship, anti-magic.
Magic: None.

As a motorbike roared distantly from the scene, the gentleman in the black suit stepped into the lift. Too late, perhaps, however the observation site might well be of help. He pushed the button for the roof.

He stepped out of the roof hut, and assessed the scene. A woman lay dead by the low wall a chain link fence that surrounded the top of the building. He walked over to her, slipping on his gloves. Foam came from her mouth, consistant with many forms of poisoning or magic. He stood up, and checked out the building opposite. Any number of those rooms could have been a target. Her returned to the corpse, and took out his phone. He dialed the number, the having no storage for them.

"Homonculus." he said. "I'm searching a body," he said, rifling through the woman's blazer, and pulling out her wallet. "It's a female," he flipped it open, "....She has a driver's licence. Here, I'll take photos, you can verify them." He pointed and shot with his camera.

"Sending now, along with photos of the body."

He hung up, and set his phone down. He sat her up, and took off her jacket, noting its weight. He searched the seams of the lining: there. A tiny zip ran down the side, breaking the thread for a moment. He unzipped it. There was another on the other side. Reaching into the right, he plucked several more ID, and an unmarked pass card. Reaching into the other pocket, he found passports for the Russian Federation, France, Canada, Britain, America, Germany, Spain, the Neatherlands, Ireland, and various Eastern Europian nations.

The phone buzzed, and he answered immediately. The number was not displayed. "They're fake. Yes, I've found multiple ID on her. All of them fake. She has an unmarked card," he said as he pocketed it, and turned his attention to the weapon at her side, "And Glock 17. It's been slightly customised. There's also a knife in her leg. It's been put in with some force, and twisted quite a bit. I don't know if it's his or hers. Any match for that photo?" He listened. "Thanks. He's probably still in the city. It looks like he was checking out the hotel across the road. Check the booklistings for anyone of note."

So, French Agent, he thought, the unmarked access card in his pocket. Might well be useful. He left the building, disposing of his gloves in a bin on the way back to the car. A smart and functional Ford Focus. It was blue. He streightened his tie clip, and drove away.
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