moonrise

whew! for a second there i thought i was screwed XD that's a relief hehehe

It's been a loooong while since I posted around here anyway, sorry if i maybe posting in the wrong thread, i just saw the dead version of Lady Justice, and i just... died... a little inside, her being my favorite character :s is that dead version official now? or is it just some sort of alternative? i really gotta now haha. thanks!

a little continuation thanks! A couple of shots here, some lightning there, and a dash of blades and blood on the side, the bar was soon reduced to a torn battlefield as the two-on-one raged on throughout the night—and not in a good way. “I feel bad for the fellows who got caught up in this.” Bishop confessed as he arranged some of the bodies laying about before sending another javelin of sparks towards the female pair. “Some of the guys who died here tonight were good men.” “Necessary sacrifices, wouldn’t you agree?” One of the sisters mocked as she unloaded another salvo of hollow points. “Besides, do you not need to whisk out scum so as not to spoil the rest of the batch?” He didn’t take to kindly to her remark, and replied with an intensified surge of electricity that devoured three quarters of the twins’ temporary hold out. The sharpshooter of the two narrowly escaped, as the edges of her cloak were incinerated and stray locks of hair singed. “Dammit! I just bought this!” came her shriek as she desperately stamped the flames out. “Ooh! Tough luck!” her reflection laughed as the other quickly shed her tunic. “Told you not to wear expensive clothes on risky takes such as this.” “Shut up already!” the Viktoria shot back as she slammed her fists against charred wood in frustration. “Shit! Soulstones gone to waste!” “You can always earn them back!” the swordswoman had to shout this time as words were inaudible due to a nearby blast brought about yet again by the raging Bishop. “So, are you ready?” “You’re asking me?” the first one’s arrogance started to resurface. She picked up her coat… or what was left of it… and hastily put it back on. No sense in wasting good fabric, she smiled to herself. “Hah! I was born ready!” “And being your twin means I fall the same.” Pistol loaded and blade on the ready, the light-haired vixen leapt out of their hiding place, her cloak flowing behind her like a carmine river of death, and right beside were mirrored blades which flashed with bloodlust as they advanced to engage their wanted man. “Move, move, move!” Bishop grinned as renewed coils of energy found their way out through his forearms. Pillars of blue light stormed forward to meet the opposition head on. “Sis! Another one!” warned her sibling as she raised her swords before her. “You know the routine!” “Gotcha!” Tempered steel went opposite paths as the swordmaiden, to Bishop’s amazement, managed to tear his lightning bolts asunder with relative ease. To his even greater awe, was that her sister came in her wake with pistol on the ready. The thundering sound of the hammer striking against the bullet, and as it blazes out of the elongated steel barrel, prompted his instincts to flail his arms upward on the defensive. He found it funny that, coincidentally, the diameter of a chain link’s opening was the same as that of her bullet’s. He whirled his iron lash and whipped the caught shell right back at her, which she dodged, uncannily. “Holy shit!” chuckled the dervish, for the feat she had just witnessed was, admittedly, out of script. “I did not see that coming!” “Neither did I!” her sister huffed as they landed a few mere feet away from him: the perfect distance for striking. “The Twins Viktoria.” Bishop hummed. “Really, now. To what pleasure do I owe the ladies?” “Oh, now we’re being coy?” the woman raised her hand cannon once more. “You’ll have a hard time catching me if all you’ll do is keep on playing with guns.” Bishop raised his arms, very sure of his bravado. He willingly left himself on the open, to show the two girls that he meant business with his warning. “If you want to dance,” his shackles chimed. “Do it up close.” “I like his style, sis.” Smiled the other, and then faced the emerald-haired pugilist to hint a wink. “Don’t let your guard down!” her kin scolded. “Seriously, how can you possibly remain this cheerful?” “What can I say? He’s cute.” The Viktoria could only offer a sigh as she restored focus on her gun arm. “Just get ready! Move in to position!” “Which one? Virgin Stride or Rouelette?” “Roulette will do.” She cocked her pistol as her partner mobilized and began circling Bishop. “Now, Sparky.” Her grin so wry. “Let’s get down to business!” He gave a polite bow as a new lightning field engulfed him, and gestured with outstretched hand. “By all means,” ** As quick as a blink she handled her blades with equal grace and speed, landing quick jabs and pokes in each breath and step taken. Her footwork, mastered and seasoned throughout numerous practice and application, allowed her to dance rings around the bounty. She evenly parried whatever backlash he threw at her, and making sure to give back what was due, twofold. The other Viktoria, as an aside, ran, too, around him and in tandem with her sister, albeit heading towards the other way around. As the swordswoman lunged and stabbed, the other fired well-placed shots at the pre-occupied brawler. Bishop mused as he spun his chains violently, knocking off stray blade and bullet alike. Sharpened reflexes managed to keep him on his toes as the pair became more and more aggressive with their blitz. Bishop knew not to tarry; for it may mean sudden death to him should he slip and fall freely into their trap. What he first deemed to be as nothing but amateurish offensive patterns soon took a turn for the experienced, then the elite. He admitted to himself that he had indeed belittled his enemies. It was wrong for him to have judged and scoffed at them simply because all information he had about them was naught but titular reputation. His heart started to beat faster, adrenalin pumping to enable him to keep up. Yet at the same time he couldn’t help but smile and try to give it his two hundred percent. For the first time that night he finally felt the real thrill of combat. “You know, I guess I really didn’t appreciate your offer much.” He apologized in the form of weighted metal. “One guy to be complimented by two gorgeous ladies? I gotta say, it’s kind of like winning the lottery, isn’t it?” “Damn right!” howled the markswoman. “It was a stupid decision to have to choose going the hard way, my good man!” “Yeah!” giggled her twin in agreement. “I wouldn’t want to scar that handsome face of yours!” “On the contrary, I wouldn’t mind.” He said, devoid of all amusement this time. “The scars on my body have left me indifferent to whatever disfiguration I might receive in the coming days.” “You sound so serious.” The fencer pressed on with her attacks, minding carefully not to fall for any tricks like the one earlier that night. “If that’s the case, then,” she dove in with swords aimed, ready to carve forehead to chin. “Don’t mind if I do!” “Strike quickly, but be careful!” instructed her sister as she reloaded whilst keeping her pace. “We need him alive!” Bishop made full use of the potential of his senses: peripheral vision went crystal clear as of that of full sight, every sound, no matter how faint, was as audible as love’s whisper; and taste cruel intentions lingering about the air. Viktoria one— the girl fluent with her firearm—was to pull the trigger in a fraction of a second, while number two—she so skilled with the blades—menaced ever the closer. Roulette, indeed, for the twins knew well enough how to draw a man out into the open, prepped for the inevitable killshot. Roulette, indeed, for Bishop failed to expect what he expected was the unexpected. He lowered his arms and adopted a neutral tone, closing his eyes in acceptance of the cards fate had drawn him. He whispered, “Roulette, indeed.” C+C. thanks!

hello, me again it's been a long while since i've wrote something, and i really hope you guys will like this one. it's about my three favorite characters: The Viktoria twins, and the man-- Bishop ! How To Get The Attention Of A Bishop “You sure this is the place?” she sighed as they arrived before a shabby joint on the edge of the most derelict parts of town. “Looks like a real dump.” “You asking me? Weren’t you the one assigned to confirm his location?” “Hey, that Ramos guy said that this’d be where we could get a hold of our man.” The other shrugged. “I told you: we get what we paid for.” “Look, I didn’t wager half of my earnings just to get some random offal from a shady source!” crossing her arms in defiance. “Then leave. Suit yourself. I’m not the one who’s at a loss. We paid for the information with your money, remember?” She teased, stretching her arms a bit and then yawning. “Oh, pike off!” the more collected one blazed for a minute or so before cooling down. “Hmph! Fine! Shall we, then?” With a nod of approval, the pair kicked the doors open and entered the worn down establishment with an air of grace and authority. Weapons swayed with tempting hips, drawing stares from all corners of the bar. Those who stood in their way immediately scrambled and cleared a path for the seductive duo. “W-what can I get you two…?” stuttered the bartender, nervous. He, too, knew well enough who tonight’s special guests were. “Nothing at the—“ “Whisky, please.” Interrupted her doppelganger of a sibling, crassly. The barkeep threw a confused—and panicked—look at the first woman, as if waiting for authorization to comply with the other’s request. “Whatever.” Came the response, shaking her head indifferently. A wave of the hand sent the fumbling liquor dealer away. “Ease up, will you?” the second smirked. “Not everyone is out for our heads, you know.” “That’s not what concerns me.” The former shook her head. “It’s that our cover might be blown.” “Hah!” the latter’s booming voice turned a dozen more heads their way. “Take down the Twins? You’ve gotta be kidding! We’re untouchable, remember?” “Quiet down, dammit!” the first half slapped the next hard on the shoulder. “Ugh. Sourpuss…” she rubbed her aching joint. Randomly shifting gazes, her eyes picked up rather unsavory images: ruffians with their distasteful proportions spilling out of their shirts, wenches all sprawled out in “inappropriate” positions, and drinks puking their guts out of the corner. She gagged and scowled with disgust, and wondered “Why the hell would he hang out in such a dump?” and other similar thoughts. She breathed deep and cast her stares elsewhere… and chanced upon what might have been their mark. “Hey…” “What is it now?” “See that man across the hall?” she pointed to the very edge of the room. “Where?” the foremost squinted. “There…” she gave a more accurate direction. It was rather hard to scan with the said portion of the quarters being enveloped in thick darkness. “Over there, don’t you see? He’s bareback…” “A lot of patrons here don’t wear shorts.” She snorted at the obviousness. “Just look where I’m pointing, alright?” the twin sighed. “You see the man right there, the one seated on the fifth table on the left?” “And with chains wrapped around his arm…?” “And… Green hair…?” The pair exchanged sly glances, for that night, no coin went foolishly spent as X indeed marked the blood-red spot. “Ready, sis?” the eager half clutched the hilt of both her blades. In response, and affirmation, came the clicking of steel as yet another bullet found its home in the chamber of her gun. ** Boldly the twins strode and approached the man who haplessly spent his night chugging down on what seemed to be his eleventh glass. “You know,” he muttered as he finished off another shot. “I know you two’ve been watching me ever since you got here.” “You seem to have mistaken us for someone else.” The one with the pistol answered gingerly. “Yeah,” the second chorused with equal sweetness. “Can’t a pair of attractive ladies play with good men these days?” “Not when they’ve got something hidden beneath the wretched smiles spelled across their faces.” The stranger smirked. “So, who dropped on me this time? I’m guessing it’s Ramos?” “We’ve no idea what you’re talking about.” The weaponmistress batted her eyelashes flirtingly. “Indeed.” the other gently stroked the weathered skin of his backside, delicate fingers playfully dancing about. “We’re simply girls out for a… good time…” “My, and I thought I’ve faced bad liars before.” He shook his head, and then started to laugh. “I don’t like this pile of refuse.” The gunsmith whispered to her sister, her fuse nearly spent, then turned to their quarry once more with the same shit-eating smile across her twitching lips. “Come on you, won’t you at least offer to buy us a drink?” He raised an amused brow, not because he saw through their weak attempt at a ruse, nor was it the pathetic chancing to get him to lower his guard via offers of cocktails for beds. Rather, because her voice started to trail with vex. He grinned, taking another sip of spirit— scotch, this time—and took relaxed breaths as the perkier of the wenches, the one who he noticed couldn’t stop playing with the hilts of her swords, leaned over, full ruby lips nearing the side of his head. “After that…” she whispered. “We can get to know each other better.” He looked up as she backed away, her smile so promising and irresistible… to an ordinary man, maybe. Not wanting to spoil her belief that she had successfully swayed him to her cause, the man decided to play along for a moment, offering a smile himself, in response, much to her obvious display of pleasure. He gently reached out his free hand caressed her chin, appreciating her beautiful features. The bladedancer felt a ghostly chill run down her spine as their eyes locked in momentary trance. Her soft and alluring stare, however, was immediately countered by a burning glare. His powerful grasp raced to her neck and cut her breathing for a painful few seconds, pulling her to an uncomfortable distance of mere inches. “Spare me the coy bullshit, merc.” The man growled. “I know well who you two are.” Her eyes widened with horror—or was it surprise?—as grim realization of falling into one’s own net poured down on her. She gagged, coughed, and wheezed as she tried to wriggle out of his grip. But the more she tried to resist, the more he tightened his hold. He remained unmoving despite her sister’s persistent threats, but soon shoved her away as he could see consciousness starting to leave her. “You seriously want to do this the hard way, mister Bishop?” in rage, she pointed the loaded handgun, spot on his forehead, as beside her was her dazed counterpart, still rasping and trying to compose herself, a little distraught from the ordeal. “Because I swear, I won’t regret having to spend my precious new rounds on you.” “Ladies, ladies, please!” The tavern owner tried to break the fight, but a single bullet to through the eye shut him up quickly. The swordsmaiden of the pair, although still visibly shaken, stepped in to guard her sister’s back as bystanders began mobilizing, seeing how the situation was starting to turn violent. “One more time, male. I ask you: come with us.” He looked at her for a moment, his glare equal in fire as of hers, save for look of diehard intent and murderous determination enough to rend him to pieces. As her finger neared the trigger, he knew well enough he had to come up with an answer soon. “Well?” she hissed, hands becoming all the more impatient. But Bishop, despite the warning, calmly raised another glass of scotch and let the searing liquid wash his throat, closing his eyes in acceptance of the warmth and the spike it brought. The Viktoria woman leered as the last drop of precious alcohol slipped free from its crystalline confines. “Look here, fool, we’re not in the mood to—“ The flight of his jigger cut her short as it left his hand and furiously smashed against delicate brow. In surprise, and in pain, she reeled back, and just in time, too, as their target swiped madly in a wake of sparks and burning wood. Chains flustered restlessly as he took on an offensive stance and poised to leap at any given moment. “What the hell?!” the second twin barked as she helped her sibling up. “Are you out of your fucking mind?!” “A scratch wound, and she passes out immediately?” he razzed as terrifying forks of untamed lightning rose from the ground upon which he stood. “And I expected the two of you to be a tougher game.” “You’ll regret this…” still dazed and certainly pissed off, woman growled frantically as she aimed her gun once more, this time no longer hesitating to open fire. “You’ll fucking regret this!!” C+C thanks!

Oh my God are they for real ???? sooooooo awesome!!! RBG needs a game system-- now !

reminds me of mig and tamiya :s

noooo.....!! How can I possibly get one of those when i did not attend con i wanna be a pimp i want that hookaaaaaahhhh!!

man, i love this guy... for me, bishop will always be for the WIN

silent hill all over again XD

As some of you had read before, i was planning on making a game system with a friend, who, sadly, had deserted me after he inherited his uncle's estate in spain *grumble grumble*. i had then started to lose hope. fortunately, though, a talented mind decided to help me out on this journey. and i am very grateful for his aid i know with his assistance we can bring this idea to fruition We, v22TTC and me, moonrise, had decided to go for fluff first, before system. i like the idea as well, since we can flesh out major highs first before they manage slip out of our grasp haha. without further ado, we are pleased to present you guys with the first bits of fluff. it's an introduction to one of the major characters, written by v22TTC, and we hope you guys like it here it is: Rising First Arc: the Assault on Anachrauna The small, turquoise-haired girl slid ever nearer to her prey; an obliviously grazing, plump sheep. Too young to be abroad in these times – there were still bands of betrayers and demons roaming – her Clan learned their fieldcraft early ... and even the Elders had yet to devise any effective method of preventing her from, well, going wherever she pleased whenever she pleased. Their attempts to punitively bind, guard or encage her always dissolved into embarrassing failures for all concerned – except for the little girl, who merely addressed these actions as puzzles, challenges, to be solved and overcome. Obedient to a fault ... well, usually, in all other matters; her core innately rebelled against the physical constraining of her Form in any way – she was a Hunter: her purpose was to Hunt. To that end, as she slithered, crawled, crouched and tip-toed towards her prey, at least one hand had a soot-smeared dagger in it at all times. Despite the gangly, not too well coordinated, foal-like nature of all children, her Clan’s Chief Armsman had grudgingly allowed that – in the use of daggers – she “... showed promise....” It had taken her an hour to get into the correct approach to the sheep; from downwind, blazing sun low and behind her, but she was near now, gradually picking up her pace – lest the beast smell her (though there wasn’t much to smell) or the favourable conditions whimsically abandon her – whilst retaining her silence and patience. Though in the settlement, it was not unknown for her to shriek and giggle and sing boisterously (and no chicken or piglet remained unchased when she was around...), or for her to be as impetuous as all children; on The Hunt, she was Silence and limitless Patience personified: sound seemed to not be able to find her, in order to attach itself to her actions, and time simply ceased to exist anywhere near her psyche. Yet other things followed their embinding to time, and the sun was climbing ever higher – soon it would cease to dazzle the sheep and would merely highlight her – her final sprint would have to be soon. A claw tapped her lightly, twice, on her back. Though startled, Stealth was who she was so she didn’t jump or gasp – nothing that would give her hard-earned position away – and slowly turned her head. Low to the ground, just behind her feet, was a leonine face, five – ten! - times as large as she was, one reptilian forefoot hovering just over her. The foot touched the ground and the creature rose, and rose, and rose ... to its full height, utterly blotting out the sun and casting its shadow over almost the entire glade. A few sheep glanced up, then immediately returned to the task and pleasure of filling their bellies with the lush grass. Glacial eyes bigger than her head regarded her for a second and the creature narrowed its eyes and accused, “You don’t seem to be that hungry, girlchild....” Enraged – all that hard work for nothing! – she jumped to her feet and thrust a finger towards the enormous face, 30 feet above her, shrilling, “You’ve spoiled my Hunt!” At this, the sheep ran to the other end of the glade, watching her warily. “No, I fear you just did that....” “.... And what do you mean ‘I don’t seem that hungry’!? You’d better not be saying I’m fat!” [This not a statement relating to the paranoid and unhealthy image-obsession of a darker time but an affront to all – highly athletic – Hunters everywhere.] Taken slightly aback by her wrath, the dragon pulled its head back a little, though the effect was much magnified by its sheer size – a slight movement of one so large amounted to an immense movement to human eyes. “Well ... no; it was merely a comment about the other bounty overflowing around you – berries, fruits_” “You can’t Hunt those!” The dragon, the Alarum as her people would call them, narrowed its eyes significantly at this and thrust its face forwards, “You would take the life of an animal when not hungry, when other food was available, simply for pleasure!?” Anger coloured the tail-end of the question; only a slight raising of the voice, but again, when issuing forth from a dragon, a little anger went an awfully long way.... Somewhat belatedly, perhaps, the most ancient part of the girl’s brain made her aware that perhaps it wouldn’t be too far amiss to be scared rather than indignant; after all, her people called dragons ‘Alarum’ – ‘Divus Alarum’: ‘Divine Wing’ – but, upon reflection, only the good ones ... and even the good ones had their ways ... and there were evil ones ... and only a fool would take the goodness of a stranger dragon (or anything about any dragon!) for granted ... and there were no warriors around.... Her downy hairs came to resemble pins, her body drenched in sweat and her stomach contained a good three boulders, with a generous leavening of anvils thrown in.... But though a mere cub of a Hunter, Hunter she was through and through, and thus was much in tune with ‘the way things are’ of the Hunter Caste – rather than ‘the way they wish things were’ of the city-dwellers – so she knew she could not use the primary arrows in her quiver (Stealth and Speed) here. But she did indeed ‘show promise’ with daggers; and words could be daggers – bright, shining daggers, unlike her dulled-steel ones. Hands on almost non-existent hips, foot tapping and face jutting forward, she remarked, “I couldn’t help but notice that there are fangs in your mouth....” The fangs that she ‘couldn’t help but notice’ each being longer than her arm – or leg even! – and there were lots of them. “.... Well, yes ... I do need to eat meat very rarely_” “So you were born a fully-able Hunting machine – never had to learn or practice?” “Errrmm_” “And you only Hunt at the exact point when you need your meat – never a little earlier to make sure you have the meat when you need it, to be safe?” The majestic creature reared back – comedically – as if struck by the tiny girl before him, her icicle eyes piercing him. He also knew the time to attack! “You dare to question me whelpling?!!” [The cliche rebuke made him feel a little soiled, but he knew that most humans responded best to the hackneyed and tawdry – the familiar and predictable....] She thought for a second ... “Well, you should either answer my question – asked in good faith – or...” she pointed right at his heart, “I Name thee ‘hypocrite’....” Eyes seemingly as large as cows, the dragon could only respond with a strangled noise. Collecting himself, “No, we dragons are more complicated than you arrogant and simple folk give us credit for – where you see paradox equating to hypocrisy and contradiction, we see paradox equating to truth, reality and enlightenment: the world is larger than your simple-minded ‘either/or’ ways of looking at it! “My sheer size – and there is no dragon older/larger – and yet I out-stalked something as miniscule as you! Complicated! Reality!” Feeling impugned, stamping her foot, “Enchantment!” “No! Skill!” “... Truly?” [in a voice as small as she was.] “Yes.” “But ... I’ve heard them say, in the settlement, that I’m the best at sneaking around they’ve ever seen ... that there’s nothing else they can teach me ... that I’ve got a destiny as an enemy of the hellforces... [sniff].” Annoyed at himself for being drawn into injuring this frail child’s feeling of worth, he made his voice a gentle, reassuring rumble, “The world is far larger than your settlement or its set, nomadic paths and there are many more teachers and always more to learn ... you’re only young ... [with a smile] you don’t get to become as old as me without learning a thing or two about stealth....” Wiping her eyes with the back of her wrist, and angry at herself for her display of weakness, the girl peered deeply into the dragon’s – the Alarum’s – eyes, for so long, and with such intensity, that the Alarum flinched away. “Well,” she said, “Then it appears that – in order to fulfil my destiny and develop this gift to the greater Glory of The Lord – I need another teacher.” Taken aback by the steady – and humble! - gravitas emanating from this turquoise-haired moppet, the Alarum reluctantly mumbled, “Well, yes ... and I’d consider it the greatest privilege to assist one who’ll shine so brightly, in the service of God, upon her path ... but we dragons can be solitary and secretive creatures – none of us could tolerate becoming curios of a Clan full of people. And yes, territorial: what happens when your Clan takes you on its nomadic migration?” “I will now briefly return, and leave a note so nobody will worry about me – or come to look for me and disturb your teaching. I’m an orphan – as the other children never tire of reminding me.” [A deep flash in her eyes that could have melted a rock.] Still attempting to catch up with the momentum of this unforeseen development, the Alarum stalled, “And you will need to collect but a few of your possessions....” [imagining a doll or some such – people often changed course away from adventure when they remembered the comforts they would be forced to leave behind.] Kallen looked down at herself, patting her leather armour, two daggers and utilitarian blades, quill, parchments and scripture, “I’ve already got them, of course....” [seeming a little confused as to the Alarum’s meaning]. Valkaroth blinked once, “Very well....” cheers!

i really like the antenociti leaf scatter, but something suddenly held me back: it says that they may not be able to pass through customs of countries where it is prohibited to introduce foreign/ potentially foreign species of plants or whatsoever. and since i don't know if it's the same case in the philippines, it's a gamble to buy such products then :s man i hate my country '... still. i'll try then. nyehehehehe

checked them out seems like i've gotta choose one, then hehehe. thanks!

hey guys me again. i was wondering if anyone can point me to a good manufacturer/ online store where i can get some nice foliage/flock/leaf scatter at reasonable prices? i've got a couple of shops in mind but i've never ordered from them so i'm still pretty skeptical :s any help will be greatly appreciated. thanks!

alright, that's it, I'm digging up for spare gundam fists. this is just unacceptable on my part :mad:

as long as i can paint them, i am all good :3 man i just hope this won't end up like MAGE KNIGHT (!!)