Since it appears we're all just leaving goodbyes and such here, I'll leave you with this: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3rP_V07Cp6I&feature=iv&src_vid=ZJLr_O6lhrY&annotation_id=annotation_325498

Accurately sums up my experience on this site. Also, it's weird to see your signature hasn't changed from that old RP, Fenror. It brings back memories, lol.

I think most people saw this coming a while ago. In terms of what to do with the site, I've personally got no idea; for a while, it was pretty much just a forum for roleplaying, but most of us lost interest. Other than that, it's always just been a chat forum (at least in my days), and I can't see how that could change. Most likely because I'm an uncreative, unoriginal jackass.

Roloc, if you ever start a regular server make sure to tell me somehow. I could drag Meowth and Cortex on occasionally, and I'll probably use it a lot myself. How often actually depends on if I can find someone to hire me, but I'll still have a decent amount of free time.

To everyone else, it was nice talking to those of you I met. A lot of you quit just about the time I started because of some reason or another (I thought I heard something about someone though the forum had gone to poop, but people may have just gotten bored), but it was still enjoyable reading your old posts in forums and RPs. This place got me through a point in my life that wasn't exactly the brightest, and I'll always owe it that much. It also turned me into a decently intelligent teenager, instead of some illiterate brat who thought he could write lol.

Mortecai sprang into action before anyone could react, moving so fast towards Warren he just seemed to appear beside him. He grabbed him by the back of his head, ripping him up from his seat. "You won't be late again, Pop-It. Got it? Do it again and you will be sent to maintenance. Now shut up and stay awake." He shoved him backwards.

Like a bird of prey, he swooped down Dagen and Malencia next. "Do you think we're deaf? If you got blue balls, I suggest you practice your handy-work." He barked a round of laughter at his own joke, loud enough that several students near him covered their ears. "If you speak without being spoken to again, you'll get another maintenance, Pretty Boy. Same to you, Tits!"

He glanced at Alex and Jessie as he walked by, eyes like a bullwhip, audibly cracking as they split the air. "A reminder, cellphones are not allowed in this classroom. You can text your friends about how bad your damn lives suck after I finish making them worse." His work done, he returned to the front of the classroom, grinning like a shark.

Warren
Warren unceremoniously picked himself off the ground, running a hand through his hair where Mortecai had grabbed it. The sudden jerking motion had brought his headache and nausea back, and it took all his effort to swallow the vomit before it came back up. Pale, he returned to his seat and propped his head up with his arm. His gaze was focused on the front of the classroom, but he seemed to look right through it. 'Four more hours of this shit...'

The crescent moon hovered in the sky, grinning its toothy grin as a small, banged up car pulled to a stop in front of the opera house. The building was deceptively old and grand, polished marble and stained glass windows illuminated by the yellow moonlight, a stark contrast the dark forest that surrounded it. Silene pulled her keys from the ignition and slipped them into her purse with a shaky sigh, turning to her partner in the passenger seat. His feet were kicked up onto the dashboard, seat reclined as he snored softly. “Warren, get up, we’re here!”

Warren grunted in acknowledgement, pulling himself into an upright position in a sloth-like manner, grumbling. “I can’t believe you made me wear this shit.” Silene giggled. His normal sloppy attire had been exchanged with a single-breasted black jacket with glossy black buttons, a smooth white undershirt, black slacks and his regular steel-toed boots. She had tried for a tie and dress shoes, but they remained in a smouldering piled of leather and cloth at home (she didn’t press her luck). Even so, he cleaned up startlingly well.

She herself had chosen a form-fitting purple dress and heels. Her hair had been styled, falling to her waist in a wave-like fashion, and she wore a minimal amount of make-up; most notably the petal pink lipstick. A matching purse was slung over her shoulder. “Well, coming to a ballroom dressed in our normal gear would just freak people out. It’d probably scare the killer away, and we don’t have enough money to stay overnight!”

Warren sighed, stepping out of the car and burying his hands in his pockets, head downcast. “This stuff is so damn itchy, though. I don’t get how anyone wears it!”

“Oh, man up. I can’t believe you’ve never worn a suit before, didn’t your clan have any formal meetings or anything?”

“Yeah, but that was more of a ‘if you don’t do this we’ll kill you in cold-blooded fashion’ type of meeting. Wore whatever we were most comfortable fighting in, because brawls were pretty regular.” At the rather appalled look on his weapon’s face, he added, “Don’t worry, only two or three gave any bad injuries, and I can only remember one that someone died. It was probably the least dangerous thing we did, honestly.”

Silene shook her head, careful not to mess her hair up. His stories always made her stomach turn. What must it have been like growing up like that, always watching your back against everyone, even your parents? They were supposed to love and protect you from all the bad things, not actively expose you to them. She thought of her own parents, who she hadn’t talked with in months. In comparison, they didn’t really seem so bad… “Well, we’re here."

Warren nodded, staring up at the big wooden door. It was polished, like everything else, until its surface was as reflective as a mirror. From the other side of it he could hear a loud, slow song playing. “Nothing left to do, it’s time to hunt us a phantom.” He pulled a hand from his pocket, shoving open the door. Inside was an array of colors and tables, important looking men and women swaying back in forth in their expensive clothes.

Suddenly, Silene felt underdressed. They all looked so rich, whirling around the floor. God, she couldn’t dance like that. She had taken classes when she was younger, but...

“Don’t worry, you’ll be fine,” Warren assured her, grabbing her by the wrist and pulling her inside. They came to a stop at one of the big tables covered by the embroidered cloths. Tall, long-necked wine glasses and old bottles of wine lined the table. “Want a glass?”

The scythe shook her head, shooting him a soft warning glare. “Don’t think we’ll be able to spot a kishin egg drunk off our asses, Warren.”

He shrugged and poured himself a glass, leaning against the table as he sipped it. Something about the way he held it told her it wasn’t his first time drinking, which was curious considering he still wasn’t even of legal age. “The phantom always strike at midnight, we have an hour.”

Silene looked at her DeathPhone, hidden in her purse. He was right, the clock read 11:00 even. One hour to blow. They stood there for a while, her swaying to the beat and him drinking his wine. When he reached for the bottle to pour himself another glass, she decided to step in. “May I have this dance?”

Warren gave her a look that clearly said ‘you’re-fucking-dreaming’. “You do realize it’s men that generally ask women, right?”

“I don’t follow social standards. Besides,” she motioned over shoulder. “People are looking at us weird.”

The meister shrugged. “Let them, they can’t kick us out legally, DWMA students have the right to go wherever we’re assigned.”

Damn him, since when did he know the rules? It was time for the trump card.“I’ll give you your gum back.” She had confiscated it on the way because he wouldn’t stop chewing it and the smell, cramped up in the tiny car, had burned her nose.

A moment of hesitation followed before he finally replied, his voice strained, “deal.”

With a gracious smile, Silene inclined her head and placed her hand in his, steering them into the throng of couples swirling around the polished floor. Quickly, observing what the other couples had done, he pulled her close to him and she was forced to swallow her gasp as his arms fit snugly around her waist. Luckily, the dance was slow, because a sudden wave of dizziness hit her as the scent of wintergreen and musky cologne washed over her - it was oddly intoxicating. “I-I thought you said you couldn’t dance,” she mumbled, flustered at the pace.

“I can’t, at least not very well.” Warren tilted his head down to look at her, eyes half-lidded. Had his eyes always been that dark? He had obviously seen more than many men his relatively young age, she knew that, but it gave him an easily respectable air when he wanted one. “I’m just copying the people around us.”

Silene couldn’t help but let out a giggle that had suddenly become quite flirtatious. She immediately blushed afterwards and his smile threatened to turn into a grin, amusement lighting his eyes. “You’re doing a good job of it, then. I took lessons when I was younger and I can barely keep up!”

He chuckled, the sound deep in his throat. “Don’t expect me to make a habit of it.” His forehead came to rest against her's, body softly swaying with the beat. “I’d only do something like this for you, Sille. For anyone else it would just be too much effort.” His lips were just inches from hers, warm breath tickling her cheek.

“You’re such a lazy bum…” Her voice was low and breathy. It would be so easy to lean just a little bit forward and press her lips to his, to finally show him that he was more than just her friend and partner; she loved him, damn it. The song was drawing to a close, it was now or never. She stood on her tip toes, gazing directly into his eyes, and brought her li-

“Shit!”

Silene jumped back in surprise, eyes wide, scanning the room in panic. Had she gone too far? Damn it, she had scared him. He wasn’t ready for a relationship, now he was going to call off their partnership an- oh, no. The kishin egg had just appeared, that explained it.

“Well, phantom, looks like you aren’t so ghostly after all.” Warren stood several feet in front of her, hand wrapped around the wrist of someone, blocking the descent of the knife they held. “Lets try one more test, though; how do you react to an explosion?”

Silene could see the telltale sign of his attack from where she was standing; the rounding of his shoulder as he drew back his arm, wavelength gathering in the palm of his hand, knees slightly bent to deliver the strike full force - there was a grunt of pain as his blow found its mark, the explosion from his palm lifting the assailant off his feet and throwing him back.

The ballroom dissolved into chaos at the sudden fighting, people running and screaming, trying to figure out what was going on. Silene made her way to her meister, grabbing his his shoulder. “Where’d he go?”

Warren pointed at the shadows of the room, eyes narrowed. A man stumbled out, dressed in an extravagant suit with a black cape and white gloves. A porcelain mask obstructed his face, thin eye-slits glowing red, and his right hand gripped a knife. There was a smoking chunk missing from the midriff of his jacket, courtesy of the explosive attack. “I saw him right before we were about to, uh, finish our dance. Barely managed to catch the knife in time.”

Kiss you mean, Silene thought, decidedly angry. She had finally gotten the courage to do it, to kiss him, and this wannabe ghost had ruined it. He was going to pay- she couldn’t wait to eat his soul. “Ready, Warren?”

Warren nodded, catching her as she transformed into the scythe. Like always, he spun her around quickly in a predictable pattern, warming up. It kicked up a whirlwind, blowing his hair around. “Hey, phantom,” his grin was broad, but it wasn’t deranged. He had complete control of himself. “wanna take a shot at sticking someone who’s actually looking at you with that knife?”

The man snorted underneath his mask, rushing forward and swinging the dagger wildly. Warren caught it with the crook of the scythe, twisting the weapon out of the ghoul’s hand. It skidded across the marble floor of the now empty ballroom, scraping the otherwise flawless ground. “I’m gonna make you explode now!”

The familiar explosive wavelength flowed through Silene, gathering at the point of her blade, and she put her all into amplifying it. She was angry at the phantom, angrier than she had ever been, and it was time for payback.

Once the attack was ready, Warren struck out, hitting the ghoul in the chest. It exploded much stronger than his first attack had, launching the phantom haphazardly into the air. “Hold on Silene!”

“Got it!”

Warren, for the second time, used his scythe as a pole vault to launch himself higher by causing an explosion at the base of the weapon. He was like a speeding rocket as he hurtled through the air, foot smashing directly into the falling kishin egg’s chest. It grunted and hit the ceiling, shattering the pretty gold decor. Its soul drifted slowly to the ground, small and wispy red. “Can’t believe we had to come all the way out here for this, he didn’t even put up a fight.”

Silene transformed back into her human form, nodding. “I did expect him to do something with how much hype the people around here had been giving him.” She crouched down beside the soul, picking it up and tossing it between hands. It felt significantly less powerful than the last one she had eaten, Kreddy Frueger, but she couldn’t complain. A soul was a soul. With a soft sigh, she swallowed it, coughing at how bitter and twisted it was. “His soul wasn’t even good.”

The scythe meister chuckled, pulling Silene back to her feet. “I think you owe me my gum, now. I really want a piece.” She tossed it to him and the silence that followed was almost comfortable, the only sounds the slow music in the background and the smacking of gum. Everyone else had fled in their panic.

“Warren?”

"Huh?"

“Lets get going, I don’t wanna be here when they find that hole in their ceiling.” They left the opera house behind, their mission complete. It was a success in her book. She got to see Warren in a suit, got him to dance, almost got a kiss! Oh, and they got another soul, so that was something.

Silene sat in the corner of her lap hugging her legs, head resting on her knees. Warren reclined beside her, his head laid back on his arms. His breathing was so soft and rhythmatic she was sure he was asleep. The rest of the classroom was surprisingly quiet, looking just like it had when their illusions had ended the night before. The arcane, nerve-wracking aura the Stranger protruded was still there, digging up the repressed memories. She shuddered, reaching over to softly run a hand over Warren's right arm. It was still there, all muscle and warm golden skin beneath her touch.

"It wasn't real, Silene. You don't need to beat yourself up over it." Warren's voice split her thoughts and she jumped and snatched back her hand like she'd been burnt, slightly embarrassed he had been awake for all that.

"Yeah, but... Doesn't it get to you at all? I couldn't do anything to stop myself." Her voice was low and it broke on the last word. "It's the weapons job to protect the meister, even at the cost of their life, and I couldn't."

Warren sighed and pushed himself into a sitting position, looking out at the classroom a long time before he responded. "Neither could the other weapons, and they aren't upset." He swept his arm across the room. Alex was over at the book shelf thumbing through the records in interest; Jessie was jumping up and down in excitement over something; Hason stood right beside her, conversing with the Stranger, and Steven had opened a book and was busy reading it. "You just need to relax, Sille."

Oh god, he had promised he wouldn't tell anyone about that goofy nickname. "Easier said than done, Ren." That got him back. He stiffened immediately, neck craning around to deliver a playful glare. The dark crackle in his eyes was reminiscent of the look he had given Dagen... which reminded her! "You said you'd tell me what was up between you and Dagen after class, so spill it."

The meister ran a hand through his shaggy hair, exhaling in exasperation as he did so. "Fine, if you'll stop bugging me about it." His gaze swept across the classroom, making sure no one was ease dropping before he turned back to her. "He was my partner before I left home."

Yeah, had put together that much. Silene motioned for him to continue, and he did. "My family had a longstanding tradition, it went back longer than I care to remember. My brother could probably tell you, he was more of a history buff than me. Anyways, the tradition was pretty easy to follow, thankfully. A lot of that stuff could get really convoluted, but this was really basic; the heir of the Black Sun clan, me, always partnered with the heir of the White Moon cla- hey, stop laughing. I didn't name them!"

Silene clapped a hand over her mouth, forcing down her giggles. Black Sun and White Moon? Really? "S-sorry, go on."

"Yeah, basically we always partnered to seal the partnership between the two clans. Dagen was the heir to the White Moon- Silene, I swear to death I will go back to my nap if you laugh again- long story short, we ended up partnered. We had a disagreement right before I left, and it probably broke the family partnership that I ditched him. He had always been a bit of a snide prick, though. I only realized it there at the end." His story ended and he laid back down, popping another piece of gum into his mouth.

"Oh. I guess that makes sense." Silene folded her hands in her lap, wondering why she suddenly felt rather jealous. Why did she care if Warren had partnered with someone else before her? She had always assumed he had, but it hadn't ever really hit her. It didn't matter, though. Didn't matter that he was probably stronger than her. She honestly didn't care that they had known each other since they were kids, or that he was literally what Warren probably dreamed of in a weapon. "Hey, was he stronger than me?" Okay, maybe she cared a little.

"Huh? Oh." Warren shrugged, quite an amazing feat considering he was laying flat against the floor. "It really depends, I guess. I don't really think the word stronger is used right. Directly? Yeah, he made more damage, but he's mainly a one-trick pony. He can destroy things, but isn't maneuverable like you. There isn't too many options when they get up close when you're using a grenade launcher; if you fire, you're gonna hurt yourself. You can become resistant to your own attacks, sure, but no one is honestly immune. He also had a limit, since he was a Demon Gun. He uses his meisters Soul wavelength as ammunition. It can really be a drag at times."

Siene sat in slightly awed silence. Warren really did know his stuff. "Oh, um, thanks for telling me!" Silene leaned forward and pecked him on the cheek, blushing slightly. "And thanks for being a great guy, Warren."

It was a rare sight to see the Demon Scythe meister, heir to the Black Sun clan and one-time hardened criminal to blush, but the light pink tint to his cheeks left an accomplished feeling in Silene's gut. "Y-yeah, no problem." Maybe he wasn't as hard as he thought he was, after all. She hopped up, dragging him up with her.

"Lets go watch Dagen get his ass kicked!" The smile on Warren's face at that thought could have lit an entire city block.

Silene turned scarlet, her hands balled into fist as she turned to face Dagen, and swung a punch- only to have it halted by Warren. His face was as expressive as a slab of stone, one hand wrapped around her arm holding it back, the other clutching an arrow (where had that come from?). "Don't," he said quiet enough for only her to hear. "He's not worth the energy."

The scythe-weapon pulled back from her meister and his stony face, internally deflating. She had, secretly, hoped the kiss would get a rise out of him, but if it had it hadn't been the one she was looking for. He looked scary-mad. "Yeah, yeah you're right. Thanks."

She stormed away from the scene, surprised to find herself mad at Warren more than Dagen. She didn't know the two's history; he wouldn't tell her, but... Shaking her head, she plopped down in the seat beside Jessie and Alex, still looking rather gloomy. "Thanks for that shot, you two, I saw the arrow."

---

Warren turned back to face Dagen once Silene had stormed away, his eyes crackling as if they were a thunderstorm. The Grenade Launcher would have been familiar with the look, it generally signaled a lot of incoming destruction back when they were partners. "Don't lay a finger on her, Dagen. She's not like us, she's normal."

Daylin balled his hands into fists, panting, attempting to recollect his jumbled thoughts. The witch doctor was still standing in front of him, an orange tint cast upon his tattoos by the dying embers from the fire, a satisfied smile plastered on his face. He motioned toward the sack of medicine in the giant's lap. "Use."

"Y-yeah," Daylin nodded and pressed opened it nervously. Inside was more of the yellow paste and a roll of cloth. He crudely wrapped up the rest of his wounds, smearing the paste onto them and then wrapping them up. "Thank you." His voice was earnest; the Doctor had done nothing but help him. The medicine had taken away the the worst of the pain, leaving him sore, yet standing.

The orc grunted in assent, took the medicine, and hunkered out of the tent. Daylin stared at his retreating form for a moment, thinking of how he had sustained the injuries; that just brought Star, beaten and crying, to the forefront of his mind. His blood felt like fire boiling in his veins, boiling and crackling as it raged through him, fueling his rage. 'Don't worry, I'll make the bastard pay and get you out of there.'

With a new determination, Daylin prepared for battle. He adjusted his crooked pauldrons and smoothed out the mail beneath his breastplate, shouldered his axe, and put his dark-red hair back up. Finally, he cinched his royal blue cloak back up around his neck and pulled his helm down over his head. 'I'm coming for you, Zang.'

He stepped out of his tent, head held high, storming directly toward the chieftain's abode.