Hello and Welcome to Revival! If you are new to Revival, please read and familiarize yourself with the rules before playing. We love to have fun on the site and to have fun, it's good to know the rules.
We are finally open for others to join! Granted, we're low on members so if you manage to just take a peek in here, please let others know that we are now open and ready to start rping with you! Don't hesitate to ask for help in the C-box or PM an Administrator (ANY of us will do, I promise) with any concerns you may have.
--REVIVAL's Been Revived!-- I know that we've had a LONG hiatus, but it looks like things are picking back up again! I put up a new layout and hope to liven things back up again around here. So let's do our best everyone!
Penance, Revival's sister site, is almost completed and will be having its grand opening pretty soon! Be patient with us and excuse the lack of activity on my end every once in a while because of my preparing for the opening of the site. Also, next month we will be having our first activity check in a long time. No threads need be active, but so long as you, the account holder, checks in, that's fine.
From now on, our banners are on a randomizer so we will have various different images on the site that will pop up. Some old, some new. If you have a banner you wish to have added to the rotation, post it in the banner thread in the OOC section of the board. In addition to this, I WILL be putting up an announcement about the switch from Liquid Time to Semi-Liquid Time in the next week or so.
Have fun you guys and look forward to the new changes (as well as possible new members) on Revival!
Physical Appearance: Standing at just five feet and four inches, Kessler Morrison doesn’t outwardly appear very intimidating. In fact, with his trademark pink lip gloss and tousled, “just-out-of-bed” hair, he looks more like a bubble gum pop star. Despite his wispy frame, the boy’s muscles are toned to the extreme from years of dancing and the street fighting life he’s becoming so accustomed to. His skin is pale from lack of sun; however, he moisturizes every night to keep himself looking porcelain instead of pallid.
With small ears, big hazel-green eyes, and a slightly lifted nose, Kessler maintains a pixie look. His brown hair is often sticking straight up with an abundance of hairspray, and for the most part he likes it just long enough to brush his shoulders. Though it is layered, his natural wave prevents the layers from making much of an impact. If one were to ever tell him that, though, they'd face the wrath of his pouting, pink lips. After all, he goes the extra mile to look good.
Make-up and clothing are among his favorite things, so it is only natural that a large portion of his time is spent artistically dressing himself. For school, he wears flamboyant dress shirts and slacks with just the basic foundation, blush, eyeliner, and mascara. At his leisure he prefers to paint his face with a plethora of colorful designs. Kessler's wardrobe varies from day to day. A steady flow of money allows him to order all sorts of crazy couture. These wild fashions he mixes with a blatantly street style. A shirt made of eagle feathers? It'll go nicely with a pair of orange trip pants and brown boots. He is the king of making a statement, even if it's a bad one.
Other Characteristics: Kessler has one tattoo, a rainbow lollipop on the lower right part of his abs. He also has an eyebrow ring and a clear nose stud. There is a crescent-shaped scar on the palm of his left hand from his first fight with an armed opponent. He has never dyed his hair.
Personality: There are two key words to describe this character: bitchy and analytical. As a student of English literature, he is a very verbose intellectual. It is not uncommon for him to pick up a novel and finish it within the day only to later go out and break someone's bones. Kessler can turn on his charm at a moment's notice, so even those that would call themselves his enemies are momentarily wooed before their faces are lashed off by the end of his whip. Compassionate to some degree, he is outwardly kind to everyone he meets, at least until they piss him off. Being two-faced has its perks, after all. He enjoys conversation and intellect, but if there's no brain upstairs they better be brawny downstairs.
Kessler isn't above sleeping with someone to get ahead in the game. He's not a hooker; however, if dropping his pants and bending over will get him some money or a better deal, to hell with clothes. The boy has a bit of an obsession with himself, so he really cares about his appearance. All of his clothing is name brand or designer labeled, just so he can brag about it. He is narcissistic and a blatant hedonist. He will do whatever he has to to get what he wants.
Despite all of his drama and grandiose air, what he wants more than anything is to be an accomplished writer, which is why he spends a good portion of each weekday at the University of Toronto. He is a sophomore working on his bachelor's degree. He plans on pursuing a master's and also intends to work as a college professor afterward.
History: Growing up in Toronto, this kid learned at an early age that one can get away with anything in the country. He was born to a wealthy couple of engineers, Kathy and Peter Morrison. Both were brunette, short, and scarily intelligent. Passing on these genes to their son, that's where their similarities ceased. As Kessler grew up in the most prestigious neighborhood of the city, he noticed things that others didn't seem to care about.
When his kitten became roadkill at the age of seven, his parents silently buried it without even acknowledging their son's tears. The boy saw their lack of concern. At twelve, he told them about his first crush on a boy in his class. He was locked in his room for an entire weekend. He noticed that he wasn't in the wrong. When he was fifteen, he smoked his first cigarette. When his mother caught him in the backyard, she said, "Someone could have seen you!" She didn't say anything about him dying of lung cancer.
The day that Kessler turned seventeen, he left his parents' house for good. He moved into a dingy apartment with a drug dealer named Louis who ran an underground weapon supply. Having read enough books on weapons to fill an entire section of a library, the young adult was more than overjoyed to find his "boyfriend"'s corpse on the floor of their lover's roost. After getting rid of the body (who knew garbage bags were so heavy duty?), he sold all of his lover's drugs to pay a down payment for a ritzy apartment.
After carefully transferring all of the goods to his new home, Kessler started dealing with a handful of gangs, including one called Joushou Kigai. The gang was especially fond of his weapons, and soon enough he was raking in enough money to pay his rent, buy himself a hot ride, and easily pay for college. Not that the latter was any problem for him. He's on scholarship for his 4.0 GPA as an English student.
His dealings to Joushou Kigai also paid him with his association with Akiyo Milani, the head of the game and a very important customer. Forming an alliance with her against the mob, the dangers became an exciting new part of his life. Kessler enjoys the luxuries he has, the parties he is invited to, and the boys. Oh, yes, the boys. Because of his parents' "leash" on him as a teen, he acted out by becoming more and more obnoxious with his actions. Presently he is not interested at all in romantic relationships or anything of the sort. Sex is fine by him, and he would much prefer it anyway.
Sample RP:
A yawn escaped pretty lips; the sound followed quickly by the slow opening of eyes that had been asleep for a little too long. Blinking came next, and then the recollection of the multitude of thoughts and memories of the past hour. Horror, and then an ear-piercing scream. Silence. Tears. Useless crying and then the sudden realization. Running. It had begun. This was the order of actions for Girl #5 Annabelle Buchannon as she slowly woke up from her drug induced slumber. Everything had suddenly flooded back to her, the thoughts creating a torrent of emotions, and she recalled...
They were being forced to board the plane; forced to sit and watch as their trip to hell began. Annabelle remembered sitting in her seat, nervously staring out the window at the multitude of armed men outside. She was scared shitless. It was no denying that the situation was making her nervous, but at the sound of a gun firing, she began screaming uncontrollably, certain the bullet released was heading her way. She couldn't stop her screaming, but the blonde girl next to the redhead clamped a hand over her mouth and slapped her with the other. The tall girl ceased her screams.
Annabelle remained perfectly still instead, silently shaking with her fear. This wasn't happening. It couldn't be. 'But it IS happening.' she heard in her head, the voice an inhumane groan against her own airy repetition of 'No. No. No.'. It was hard for her obviously to grasp the situation, but the voice made her stop and look around. Everyone was glued to his or her seat on the plane, whether due to fear or excitement she didn't care to find out. She heard more gunshots followed by gasps and screams, but they fell upon dead ears as the smell of the blood, coppery and thick, pierced her nostrils, and she found it repulsive. Suddenly, the voice of a man filled her ears, and she found her attention drawn to the small screens along the plane lighting up and beginning to play what she guessed was to be an in-flight movie.
What she saw captivated her. It was horrifying, yes, but it was also strangely familiar. This... Survival of the Fittest... it had happened before. She could recall it from the last year, and her mother's quick action of turning off the television before the eighth grade girl could get a good glimpse of the disgusting deviations unfolding on the screen. Now, though, it was different. She watched as Hawley Faust killed Helena Van Garrett; watched as they battled for their lives before Helena finally giving in.
She suddenly wished her mother was there to turn off the screens at that moment, but the gatekeeper to Annabelle's mind was at home peacefully thinking her daughter was happily on her way out of Denton. Instead, her little girl was in the midst of reality, and was to be used as a lab rat testing Darwin's Theory. The last thing that the redheaded female remembered was lifting her head up slowly, with a slight feeling of nausea looming in her head. Looking over at the blonde who had shut her up, the girl was fast asleep, and with that, so was Annabelle.
She did recall hearing what Survival of the Fittest was. It was a tournament of sorts, kind of like a test of skill, except for the tiny detail and fact that it meant killing off every other person until you were the last one alive. That was what it was going to be? It couldn't. She had just found some bit of good. Then the realization hit home. She would kill. She knew she would eventually kill someone.
This made her scream. In reality, it was more like a blood-curdling shriek of horror, though. This was instantly followed by tears. Salty little droplets that would do nothing to help her, but it was a reaction that humans had. Strong emotion of any kind could cause someone to cry, and with the fear and anger coursing through her, it was oh-so natural. Annabelle felt it, that primal instinct. The young girl truly hated that feeling. It was vulgar, crude, and most of all... imperfect. It was everything she despised rolled into one, and instead directed her thoughts to something else: finding out where the hell she had ended up.
Gathering herself, she began to truly notice her surroundings for the first time since she had awoken. She was in a field, and in the light darkness she could make out the shapes of houses in the distance. She got up, and looked herself over. Aside from the wrinkle in her clothing here and there, she looked fine. It was then that she noticed something lying in the grass beside her: her luggage; along with another large bag. Wiping her eyes with her sleeved arm, Annabelle wasted no time in picking the two bags up, placing the pack on her shoulders and her luggage in her hands before sprinting off toward what she hoped was shelter from the rest of the world, a place to gather her thoughts and find out just what the hell was going on.
She had reached the large area of buildings pretty quickly; just as the sun had decided to peek over the trees. Light meant activity, and that was bad. Hurriedly Annabelle walked in nervous anticipation towards one of the houses, one that looked like it was about middle-class material and held at least some good things. Right about then, she wanted a shower. It was a little bit stupid really, but it was the first thing that came to mind on the list of things to do once she found shelter. Cleanliness was a very big key to perfection, and the redhead found herself smiling slightly. Her lanky body was easily going to be seen in the early morning if she didn't hurry up and find a way inside. Instead of doing something stupid like punching open a window, she did the sanest thing she could think of, and went around front.
Standing on the porch of the small house, Annabelle carefully clasped her hand around the front door knob, turned it to the right, and pushed. It opened, and the redhead found herself feeling rather apprehensive about the fact that someone had just left their house's front door unlocked. It was eerie, but not eerie enough for the girl to quickly go in and close the door. All was silent except for the clicking of the lock above the handle of the door.
Letting out a breath of relief, Annabelle was quick to search through the small house. It was a one-story, even lacking an attic. It was small, but it would do to house the girl. 'First thing's first,' she thought a little too cheerily, 'I need to get a shower.' Carrying her stuff with her, the ninth grader slipped into the newly found master bathroom. Placing her bags on the floor, she made damn sure to close and lock the door. Next she closed the blinds over the window looking outside, but not before firmly locking it.
This brought her to the next question. Should she turn on the light or not? Immediately she decided against it. It might draw unwanted attention from someone, even with the blinds closed. So in the dark, in some random person's home, mind you, Annabelle Buchannon began taking her clothes off. When she was down to her bra and panties, the redhead decided to go ahead and turn on the water. Slowly turning the knob in the bathroom's glass shower stall, Annabelle set it to a nice, warm temperature.
Once the water had heated, the tall girl stepped into the enclosed space, and shucked her bra and panties over the top of the glass. She began her shower with grabbing some soap, left by the house's earlier residents, and lathering her body up and washing her cares away for a few brief minutes. It was about that time that Annabelle noted the collar. How she didn't feel it earlier she was clueless to, but the point was that she had a collar on. She didn't bother struggling with it, sure something bad would happen. It was just like a horror movie. With that, she continued her shower, even though the collar felt tight around her neck.
In about ten minutes, the heat of the water had died, and Annabelle had been forced to turn off the flow. It wasn't much of a shower, but it got the job done. She smelled of strawberries now; the shampoo she had used the source. Sighing, the girl pushed open the glass door and reached for one of the dark colored towels hanging on a rack about a foot away. Grasping the cloth in her hand, she began to dry off her naked body. In moments the redhead was completely free of moisture, save for her dripping hair being taken care of by the now wrapped up towel resting on her head. She found herself naked again, but she didn't really care. Walking slowly over the the door, she unlocked and opened it both carefully and quietly.
The door slowly flew open, its hinges forcing it to swing to the right and onto the wall. Grabbing her discarded bags, Annabelle calmly walked over to the bed and, placing them on the bed, got to finding something to wear. Her suitcase was a normal hunter green, a pretty color that looked great on her, but at the moment it looked weird against the pure white of the empty bed's spread. The redhead unzipped the bag quickly, and immediately pulled out a nice pink dress that she had brought along. It would certainly do, with its nice white lace and easy maneuverability. Grabbing a random bra and panties, she put them on before slipping the dress on. Her hair, still slightly wet, began to drip water onto the carpeted floor as it was let out of the towel, but she immediately put a stop to that, scolding herself as she toweled her hair once more.
The next thing that Annabelle felt was necessary was to begin unpacking her things and placing them in the drawers around the room. This didn't take long, however, and soon the girl simply had to face reality in the form of the day pack. With another deep sigh, the tall female opened up the bag and poured its contents onto the bed. It was a pretty big load of goodies, she could see. The first thing that caught her eye was the gun.
It was obviously what she had been given as protection. She was happy to receive something so precious. It even came with an instruction manual to help. How sweet could they be? It was kind of like a housewarming to her. They had supplied her with some bread and water, which she would need if she took a bit of a vacation, but otherwise she would probably just grab something from the kitchen.
In truth, she hoped to be able to survive without anything confrontational happening. This, she knew, couldn't happen. It was inevitable that somehow she would be forced into an imperfection, and that was when she would remove the "blemish from her face" with the gun. Smiling, Annabelle bent over to pick up the flashlight. "This will be useful." she said to noone in particular before placing to the side. With the gun and manual. She saw some form of a manual, but the lanky female just tossed the book away with barely a glance.
Her attention had been captured by the last remaining items on the bed. The compass, map, and first aid kit. All three would be extremely useful, and Annabelle found herself thinking again how thoughtful her kidnappers were being. Without another thought, she grabbed the bread and water and hurried out of the master bedroom and into the spotless kitchen. Opening up the refrigerator door, she placed the water on the empty bottom shelf. Closing it, she walked over and placed the bags of bread on the counter. It was quaint, the house and the girl began contemplating her new, normal life on the island by herself, and how this little house could potentially be her own haven of perfection.
Annabelle looked over the kitchen's window and at the sign hanging over the doorway. She again smiled, this time at the words carved into the dark wood. Moving around, the contented redhead began to prepare for an interesting day. It was just like the old saying carved into the sign's wood:
Group: Admin
Posts: 688
Member No.: 1
Joined: 20-October 07
Okay, everything looks good. I just have a couple of things:
History: I don't have a problem with this and I'm assuming you got permission from Rei to use Akiyo in your character's history. But the problem is that, speaking on Akiyo's behalf (since I'm on the phone with Rei), I don't think Akiyo would do Arms dealings with someone who lives in Canada, especially since it's only hinted that her activities are against The Clairvoyants and because of their resources, wouldn't want her dealings tracing back to her. If anything, she would get her arms from Italy or some other foreign country that she has more clout in than Yaodin.
You can, however, say that they are friends and that she helps HIM with his arms dealing business. Nothing wrong with sponsorships.
Keith "Kessler" Morrison, Living Proof That the Camera's Lying
