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46,602 | 1,263 | 126 | 2,377 | 482 | Rikive was tired, she had nearly fallen asleep on the van ride returning to the bunker. After healing Parael's life threatening injuries, Tony's and her own; her magic needed to be replenished. It was a strange thing, she could fight in a battle for days without wavering, but she didn't have the same kind of endurance when it came to her magic.
Unfortunately, anyone that was injured would need to wait for her to replenish her magic before she could heal them.
She had washed and changed into a white tank top and a pair of black sweatpants. She put Winterthorn on her bed and then returned to the main room to participate in the discussion before she had to sleep. "I don't trust the fairy Queen." Rikive said in response to Parael, sitting herself down on the ground with her back leaning against a wall. "Also, if I ever make it back to Asgard, I will be telling the story of your folly, Parael, for centuries to come." She informed him with a small grin with a tad hint of bitterness to it.
She was starting to think she may never see home again.
"I think, what we are in desperate need of, before we do anything else," She spoke loudly and firmly. "Is an established chain of command. Because the way we are operating now is not working. It's chaotic and one of us is going to end up dead soon if we keep doing what we're doing." She brushed a strand of wet hair behind her ear, looking around the room at everyone present, trying to judge who would be a good leader. | Name: Rikive Heimdalsdóttir
Age: ?
Gender: Female
Breed/Species/Type/Lineage: Deity
Physical Description:
Talents:-Hand to hand combat (including 'god like' speed and strength)
-Extraordinary eyesight (in light or dark), heightened hearing and extremely high endurance
-Healing magic
History:Rikive is the daughter of the God Heimdall and an elven maiden named, Alfrún. She spent most of her life in Asgard, in the hall of her father. She had always been curious about Midgard, but finally came to the mortal realm due to the encouragement of her father.
When she came to Midgard she did not know nor understanding the rules of how the supernatural were to interact with human society. For the most part she had done well adjusting to modern life, it wasn’t the first time a god had gone to Midgard to pretend to be human. She had picked up on certain social norms, but some had escaped her notice. She had learned rather harshly that duels of honor were not accepted anymore.
One unfortunate encounter with a particularly obnoxious man, he lost one hand and she was the one arrested.
That one incident and she found herself in debt to the system set up to keep order with supernatural beings. Some had told her to merely run and return to Asgard, but she stubbornly denied such an idea. She would repay her debt as she was honor bound to do.
A few times she had been tempted to make the debt dwindle a little faster using...less than savory means. She was strong and skilled, certain operations would have paid her a lot of money to provide them with protection. However she always refused, it wasn’t right.
Psychological Profile:Quiet, reflective, and idealistic. Interested in serving humanity. Well-developed value system, which she strives to live in accordance with. Extremely loyal. Adaptable and laid-back unless something she holds in high regard is challenged. Mentally quick, and able to see possibilities. Interested in understanding and helping people.
Possessions:-Winterthorn an enchanted blade, it's powers/abilities:
- Sheath transforms into a viking round shield
Yes, and:When Rikive first arrived to Camden and she was still adjusting to modern human society, she met Parael by chance. He proved to be a great teacher (in his own fun, flamboyant manner), helping her to adapt to Midgard as it is now and she considers him a good friend. She is currently helping him by standing as protection and keeping watch for his daycare center. |
46,603 | 1,263 | 127 | 1,650 | 715 | Gray had taken the opportunity to dress his wound properly. Despite tired eyes and a sore shoulder he was ready to carry on some business. A nap would have to wait because it was time to strike while the vampire was weak. He listened for a moment to the others in the main hall and threw in a comment as he lifted up their 'guest'. "Just make sure it's someone you guys can trust. I think we're all agreed that an event like that shouldn't happen again." His doubts were very high that they wouldn't care to have their new people be in charge of anything. He hefted up the vampire. She was still in dead-weight mode with an improvised stake in her heart.
Gray picked a room with a heavy lockable door and lay her against the wall. "Hey Autumn, I need to borrow you for a second." He requested into the hall. He set up a few chairs in the room and took a seat opposite of the prone figure. Drawing a deep breath he slipped his mask on. "She should start regaining her senses as soon as the stake is removed. She's still drugged so I should be fine but I want you to lock me in here with her. What do you think?" | Name: Gray Conover
Age: 31
Gender: Male
Species: Human
Physical Description:
Gray stands at 5'11. He is broad-shouldered and lanky, his advantage against his enemies is obviously not brute strength yet he has exercised thoroughly to try to make up some of the difference if he ever has to get that close. He has a long face and a pointed chin and hazel eyes, characteristics that seems to run in his family. His hair color is dark brown and he has mutton chops and doesn't bother to manage his hair so it stands pretty unkempt. He keeps it just short enough in the front that it won't become a problem in combat.
Talents:
Creative Combatant - Gray is a very experienced killer and it comes mainly from his ability to think on his feet and react quickly. Even without weapons on his person he can figure out ways to kill something by using his environment and playing dirty. He certainly doesn't hold back on the playing dirty part which might irk off those noble vampires or whatever the hell else thinks they have some kind of fair fighting spirit in combat. It's always life or death and Gray doesn't plan on being the one dying.
Broad Monster Knowledge - Gray knows how to kill all the common creeps. Werewolves, vampires, zombies(Those are the easy ones), etc. It comes from a personal history of doing just that. If he can't kill it he'll get away and study for some way to do so. After all, his hefty pay check rides on this important task.
Extensive Arms Experience - Gray is both a military veteran and an arms enthusiast. As such he has both experience and extensive practice with firearms. Having talent and practice make him a very accurate shot with long weapons in particular.
History:
Killing monsters runs in the family and family is what really matters. Gray grew up with values, often unapparent to others, that keep him from going too far in the field. He grew up with several brothers and a sister and for the earliest part of his life had no idea what his family really did. They sheltered him from it until he was ready to know the truth. That truth didn't come until it was nearly too late.
Gray joined the military. He was in the army on tour in the middle east when he encountered his first taste of the supernatural world. They seemed like normal middle-eastern villagers. Lured into their village on their patrol, Gray's team didn't pose a very good chance. They had the resilience and constitution of ghouls. Meaning they wouldn't go down without a good headshot or leg shot. Most of his team was felled by their inhuman stamina with mere farm tools. Their adversary was quick and dangerous but he had and the remainder of his squad had the resolve to survive. It wasn't until later that he understood what they were. They weren't undead. They were the "blessed warriors" of a demonic duke known as Abigor that had been piggybacking on wars and feeding off of them since iron was used as a weapon. It made sense why he'd be making his rounds in the most war torn nation in the world.
On his return to the States Gray reunited with his family. Upon hearing his experience they began to explain to him the finer parts of their history. The Conover's have been killing monsters for nearly two-hundred years. Gray had a legacy he was willing to uphold.
Unfortunately that legacy was difficult to acquire with the councils of creatures banded together throughout the world. With the councils keeping everything in check his family didn't indulge in hunting so much anymore. The councils were a necessary evil but they were still monsters and Gray couldn't personally trust them to keep things steady. He needed a group that would let him bypass getting a hit on his head by an organization that vastly overpowered him. It took a while and he took up jobs killing rogue beasts in the process which the council overlooked because of the nature of the cases. He wasn't that good at first. Not many people are. The evil monsters that let themselves be tracked by an amateur are generally the easiest to kill. Gray had mistakes and near-death experiences but his resolve and ingenuity always had the tendency to save him.
When you're feeling hand over hand through the dark you always find something.
Psychological Profile: Gray seems to be morally ambiguous to people who don't know him. To those who do, they see the bold line he won't cross. If a creature isn't a killer and has no potential to be he won't take its life. He sees many jobs he's taken as necessary evil to protect humanity. Overall he views himself as a protector, but damn if he doesn't like a good paycheck.
Gray loves humor in all its forms. He'd be pretty depressing if he couldn't take a good joke every now and then. Even if it's completely misplaced and awkward.
Possessions:
Gray has two large suitcases that are normally too heavy for normal airport admittance. One stores his set of armor. The armor is customizable on the job with many spots for Kevlar inserts, a bite guard, a helmet and a few other minor items to help him adapt to circumstances. Teeth, claws or (preferably not) bullets. He's got something to give him some edge.
Aside from a few spots in the first suitcase for some Glocks and ammunition (Affordability, you lose guns a lot when you're hunting.) he has saved room in his other suitcase for a few sets of street clothes(primarily gray t-shirts, blue jeans and a black jacket) and a compartment for his modified AA12 with silver slugs in three drum magazines. Either crammed in this case or in a car he keeps an Ares 16 with a variety of attachments for use as a long-to-mid range rifle and a grenade launcher(For that beasty who just doesn't want to go down).
Gray wears a small titanium chain around his neck that has several items dangling from it. A small pot-like skull about the size of a thumb that has dried herbs in it, consisting primarily of wolf's bane to ward off a werewolf's ability to smell him. A small alienish shell filled with holes is also affixed to it. This shell happens to be the only item he has that is magic and he only uses it as a last chance item. Thankfully he's only ever used it once before. He isn't quite sure if it has lasting consequences but man does it become handy in a bind. By saying a set of keywords the artifact teleports him an indeterminate distance away to a random location(or whatever location it wants him at, he really has no idea if it has its own agenda. Eerie). The last item dangling from his chain is a simple Celtic cross because it's cool.
A useful item that is never far from his reach is his trusty silver kukri knife.
Yes, and:
Arachne, a master of information has a real talent for finding what she needs and hiding what should stay hidden. Well, Arachne found Gray Conover. A relatively easy, if a little volatile, person to manipulate and point at targets. Contracting Gray for missions with a high paycheck is really quite easy to do. |
46,604 | 1,263 | 128 | 2,356 | 5,042 | Since everyone got back they were all pretty on edge. Perry got an ear full but somehow it didn't seem enough. Arachne was not always a forgiving creature and something as botched as their last venture would spell major punishment at her company. But this wasn't her company so she held off and left it to the others. Maybe later.
It was brought up that there was no kind of command at all and that they were just going about things all wrong. No kidding, she could tell that at the beginning. She had been lightly directing things before it all went South. However she doubted any of them trusted her enough to even bother bringing it up. Turning to Gray she looked at the room. "Probably best if one other person joins you, just in case."
She moves her attention to to the group again. Oddly enough the only other person she'd seen that has a head on straight was the one that pointed out the problem. Nodding to herself she spoke up. "What about you? When things were falling apart you took it upon yourself to get everyone out. You didn't panic or lose it in a fight. So I think you would be a good candidate." | Name: Claudia Laurel
Age: 23 (Physically) 62 (In reality)
Gender: Female
Breed/Species/Type/Lineage: Half-Demon
Physical Description:
Talents:
-Using Firearms
-Hand to hand combat
-Stalking/Sneaking
-Controlling fire
-Parkour
-Faster Healing
History:
Claudia was born in 1953, into a prominent family of demons due to an affair between a demon woman and a human. Her family had wealth, power, and most important of all, reputation. Her birth was not wanted by the elders, seeing as her parents were both young, and the fact that Claudia was a half-demon, which were considered disgraces and looked down upon. Claudia's grandfather, Harriet Laurel, decided that Claudia and her father were to be executed. Claudia's mother didn't want this, and helped her daughter disappear, along with Claudia's father. They began a new life (on earth) in America as James Williams and his young daughter, Claudia Williams.
Two years later, Her father was drafted into the Vietnam war at the age of twenty. Claudia was sent to live with her aunt in Virginia, and spent the next twenty years staying there, waiting for her father to return. He never did. Her family was informed of his death, and Claudia received his possessions. In a trunk was a stack of letters, mostly love letters between her mother and father. After digging through the trunk and reading the old letters, she came upon addressed to her, from her parents. The letter told her all about her heritage and why she didn't have a mother with her.Claudia had hoped to get in touch with them, but was not able to enter their world and when summoned, they rejected her because she was a 'Halfling'.
Left with no where to go, she wandered until one she walked in on two people fighting. One pulled out a gun to shoot the other, and Claudia threw the nearest thing she could find at the man, which happened to her shoe. The man ran off not wanting to be seen, and the other, Tom, introduced himself. The two became quick friends, both having no where to go. They lived off the streets, and eventually joined a gang. The two became tangled in a web of crimes and violence, and Tom decide that they needed to learn to defend themselves. They became more active in the gang learning from the other members how to fight, and later how to kill. Claudia and Tom advanced from just people taken under their wing to some of the most able members.
Eventually the gang was busted, and Claudia escaped with Tom. They moved to New Camden, and decided to try to lay low. It didn't work out, as they were in desperate need of money, and Claudia ended up taking jobs which weren't quite legal. She eventually got arrested for vehicular manslaughter, of all things. She was sentenced to five years in prison. When she was let out on probation, she discovered that Tom had passed away. With nothing left, Claudia became a servant for a supernatural household in the court. When Nemsemet took over, her master was killed, along with his family. Claudia was given two choices. Join his side or die. She did what she thought every sane person would have done, and chose not to die. She needed the money anyway. She now works as a servant/hitman for Nemsemet, and though she may not like it, money always comes first. And her dog.
Psychological Profile:
Due to her history, Claudia is very pessimistic. She doesn't believe in the whole 'heart of gold' thing, and distrusts everyone around her. She doesn't like to show emotion, believing they are weaknesses. She believes that the court and the wealthy families in New Camden are all corrupt, but also thinks that Nemsemet is the same.
Claudia has two 'modes', in place of emotions. There's stoic and uncaring, and then theres angry. When taking out targets, she remains cold and collected, but her anger can be triggered easily; she is sensitive about her family, and will physically harm anyone who insults her parents. She is also angered by the social hierarchy of fullbloods and halfbloods. Although she is willing to kill in cold blood, she is not merciless. She prefers to take people out quickly and painlessly, and if you give her good reason not to do something, she'll listen to you. Although it's hard to get her to trust you, if she believes in your cause then she will remain loyal.
Possessions:
A silver ring, which hides her identity as a supernatural creature, given to her by her mother. Two handguns, Several knives, and a sniper rifle. Has extras at her 'home', which is actually an abandoned building. A large husky she adopted off the streets. The closest thing she's ever had to a familiar.
Yes, and:
Claudia met Karram when she was sent to court for vehicular manslaughter. He was one of the people who helped get her a shortened sentence. She has mixed feelings about him. On one hand, he shortened her punishment, on the other hand, he still sent her to prison.
Now though, they're going to meet under much different circumstances. Karram is one of the people she has been requested to kill, so thats awkward.
(I didn't really know what to do here ^, so it can be changed.) |
46,605 | 1,263 | 129 | 1,012 | 4,032 | Tony shook his head, "No way on me. As soon as it gets intense, there's not much more than instinct to work off of. I can talk about things and plan things here, in a controlled and safe environment, but I am not someone you can look to for good judgment in the middle of a fight. That's not how it works."
Sure, Tony had a background, but it was a day to day thing, an office and dealing with people within the confines of civilization. In a fight, when the blood was up, lycanthropes were as fast, strong and resilient as anything, just about, but their instincts took over, their primal nature brought to the fore, muting the intelligence of the human. It was a form in flux and enraged, and not even able to properly speak more than a couple words -- and he'd never bothered to try.
But he knew his own limitations; he'd learned them a while ago in deciding how to stay fundamentally out of the society of the Courts and the parallel city of the supernatural and preferred to stay in the mortal world, doing mortal work and forking over a tithe to de Lacy so he could be left alone and in peace. Nemsemet put an end to it and dragged him into this world against his will, forcing him to face things he didn't want to face. He didn't like shaving in the mirror and thinking of the thing inside him that cut loose in some swampy jungle, killing, perhaps eating, people indiscriminately, operating off pure instinct. He already wasn't liking the idea that he might harm someone he knew or didn't want to harm in this situation, and it's why he advocated not going anywhere near the Steak Knife, but picking off a lone vampire instead. | Name: Antonio Victor Barnes
Age: 65
Gender: Male
Breed/Species/Type/Lineage: Lycanthrope; were-lion.
Talents:- Beastman form; deadly and effective, but terrifying and very, very, very obvious. It is a combination of a Lion's instincts and muscle density and natural equipment with the upright stature of a human being and a degree of their thought processes melded with the instinct of the animal. It is monstrous and the reason the legends exist.
- Full African lion form - like the cat. Not nearly as useful as, say, a wolf form that could be written off as a dog.
- Fast-healing in man-beast. In other forms, he takes damage normally.
- If hit with anything silver, he is immediately shifted back into normal human form. Also, if a silver bullet is in him, he is unable to shift.
- Rage; in enough pain, he'll see red and there is the potential to start killing indiscriminately to escape this. On the other hand, he's had years to learn how to control this.
- As the moon cycles, his abilities wax and wane; at full moon, he has a hard time controlling said abilities. Nearer the new moon, he finds it requires an extra degree of effort to use his abilities and he tends to tire out easier.
- Even as a human, he has increased senses that allows him to detect things with his nose; for example, sweat and various other secretions, and where they are emotionally based on that. It's a combination of animal magnetism and animal instinct.
History:Antonio Victor Barnes was born to a Afro-Cuban mother and a half-white father in New Camden, in the Dorset neighborhood, which was once home to the Cardinal's Point General Motors factory. His father, Joe, had a good job there, though he worked very hard for it. He'd come to Camden from Virginia. His mother had very little to say about the country she left or the circumstances back there.
In 1967 Uncle Sam decided to draft Antonio into the Vietnam War. He arrived in December of 1967 and saw service right as the Tet Offensive started up in February of 1968. He served in the 9th Infantry Division in the Mekong Delta, fighting near the Cambodian border. Serving as a cherry (replacement) in his new platoon, he served for five months of his tour, watching guys get blown up by booby traps, wounded by mortar fire, shot by Cong and NVA and otherwise chopped up in a futile-seeming war in the jungle; waist deep in the muck of the Mekong Delta. His battalion suffered repeated Viet Cong and NLF/PAVN attacks one night and the next put his company out on the outpost line, which was then overrun by a particularly savage attack by the Vietnamese. Terrified, with his squad dying and dead around him in the jungle night, he changed into the man-beast form and mauled a number of VC and NVA regulars, even as the A-6 Intruders dropped napalm and cluster bombs all over the jungle when the company CO called down the strikes inside his box, on top of the heads of friendlies.
His position took a hit, but he survived, to the astonishment of the reinforcements combing over the battlefield, policing up the weapons and the mauled bodies; the Vietnamese were dumped into a mass grave, the Americans taken to graves registration. But no one could figure up what tore up all these people -- some of the bodies were ripped to shreds.
"Shrapnel, napalm, fuckit," they said.
Barnes was MIA.
He spent time in the jungle, hunting, killing and learning his abilities, and eventually had a sense of how to control them enough to shift back to human form and find help. During that time, the legends were rife in VI Corps and Viet Cong alike of a killer tiger running about in the Delta, a huge, dangerous beast. So it was considered a miracle when he finally was found by the Army; presumed to have escaped POW captivity among the Viet Cong as well as the man-eater of the Mekong, he was evacuated out and then honorably discharged at the end of his draft service in Fort Polk.
His return to the World, coincided with the start of economic hard times in Camden, especially as Cardinal's Point started to lay people off and he flirted around with various dissident movements like the Black Panthers and other organizations that were concerned with the plight of the black man in America, especially after Vietnam. Every full moon, there was the potential for devastation and destruction, and he isolated himself to keep from having another situation where he killed people indiscriminately.
He bummed around the country and, ironically, ran into the Courts in New Orleans of all places, where the supernatural are able to move about a little more freely, and the mortals know a little more than they ought to. His girlfriend at the time, Marie, a Creole, introduced him to the Courts and the supernatural community, though she was somewhat shaky on how things worked because she wasn't entirely clued in, but steered him to people who definitely were.
He learned that he wasn't alone, wasn't the only one and there was a world out there with laws...and that if his black ass felt discriminated against before, wait until he met the Nobles of the courts.
New Orleans wasn't the worst place to lay up and learn things, the Court there was not one of the worst and he used his GI benefits to enroll in Tulane University, where he majored in social work, and carried that into a Master's in Business Administration while working in social work all over the State of Louisiana, where it was needed.
In the course of time, he returned to Camden when his father got sick to help take care of his parents, sometime in the early 1980's, and found that that Camden was as economically depressed as New Orleans. He quickly got to work with local activists and other like minded folk and started trying to find ways to work the system and rebuild the thriving middle class neighborhood he lived in, even as yuppie white fuckers exported all the jobs to places like China, and, ironically, Vietnam.
Fast forward decades later, and Antonio still looks rather young (magical energy tends to sustain a longer lifespan anyway) and has no idea how long his life is going to be, but he's spent a lot of it building the Horizon Foundation, a large not-for-profit that is devoted to preserving New Camden's cultural history and finding new ways to turn old buildings into something profitable within the community as well as retraining and employing locals, particularly out of economically depressed areas like his native Dorset. He paid his tithe, avoided Court politics and was trying to do something good with his life when Nemsemet came to town.
Not liking the injustice of the Court, he didn't really care what Nemsemet did to the likes of Caradoc de Lacy. The only problem is, of course, that Nemsemet is a crazy motherfucker and he's not stopping there. . He's also rallied a lot of lycanthropes to the cause, men and women that are a lot less controlled than Antonio is, raised in clans together that distrust the outside world and are indoctrinated against normal humanity. It's understandable, they've been hunted, persecuted and have lived on the margins. Antonio has some sway with them, in that they are not enthusiastically hunting one of their own, but they aren't listening when he tries to rally these various lycanthrope clans.
Nemsemet is bad news. Now he's on the run like a lot of other people.
Psychological Profile:Deep down, Barnes is still guilty about what he did in Vietnam, flying off the handle, killing a bunch of people indiscriminately. While time has healed some of it, he left the 'Nam resolved to do something worthy and good with the rest of his life, and got into the nitty gritty of social work and entepreneurial neighborhood development. He's always been careful to avoid getting overly involved in Court politics. The Court, so long as one pays tithe and avoids breaking the Concealment Edict, really doesn't care.
On the other hand, the injustice of the Court rankles Antonio, and he's happy to see it gone. But he has a regard for human life that most lycanthropes don't, and is one of the few standing against Nemsemet.
Possessions:A nice house, inherited from his deceased parents that isn't really safe to stay in any more. He's socked away money wisely invested, as well as his considerable salary as the CEO of Horizon. He has a particularly nice 1969 Pontiac Firebird and a shotgun at home that, quite frankly, he doesn't use.
He has a nice cell phone though and some authentic Vietnamese Buddhist prayer beads he picked up in the 1990's when he travelled back to 'Nam to make his peace with the past. They have supernatural significance that he doesn't really understand.
Yes, and: ...Flint and Antonio had a run-in in 1987 or so, when Flint suspected Antonio in a grisly series of murders that involved the consumption of corpses after digging into his Vietnam War history. Antonio was charged by the court, though his innocence was proven when the murders continued with him in custody. Flint and Antonio worked together grudgingly to catch the werewolf family responsible for it, but there's no love lost there. |
46,606 | 1,263 | 130 | 2,246 | 3,527 | Flint sat on a fold out chair, he had changed a few moments before into a white shirt and pants, as the others had been resting. He listened to the conversation but preferred to stay out of it, cradling a bottle in one hand and a cigarette in the other. He took turns with each, breathing in the smoke then taking a swig of whiskey. He eventually spoke up
“I don’t care who is the leader, as long as I don’t have to call them sir and do a pirouette every time they ask, like those bastards in command in 1917. Im telling ya, give a man a badge and he thinks he owns the place, why I ought to hae given him a thing or two. Course I couldn’t or I would have been reprimanded and at that point I didn’t even know I could shoot fireballs or whatever. Anyway in that trench my buddies used to…” Flint began to ramble on about some story of taking a German trench, a few racial slurs where mixed in here and there and most people would find it best to ignore him. A hundred years of information does a lot on the human brain. | Name: Flint White
Age: 125 (looks mid 20's)
Gender: Male
Breed/Species/Type/Lineage: Elemental Sorcerer.
Talents:
Firearms training
Elemental magic (Controlling and conjuring of earth, fire, water, air)
Police Procedure
Detective work
Hand to Hand combat
Interrogation
Quick witted
History:
Flint was born in 1895, he led a normal life in Camden until he was conscripted into World War One. After the war, life didn't seem as precious anymore and he joined with a local mob boss. The gang told him of his magical abilities, which he had no idea he had, and began having him work for them in robberies.
His shenanigans caught the attention of the magical courts. They soon captured him and they explained the world that sat under his nose, they explained that it was magic that kept him young, that his parents had died horribly to an unknown attack. Flint was lost, and not knowing what to do he left Camden just in time for Conscription to scoop him up for World War Two.
More war and Flint was on his last thread, he returned to Camden and began Private investigation, it was ok work and helped pay for the taxes. Flint got his big break when the Court asked for him to join their police force, he accepted and soon rose the ranks to detective. Magical police work was a lot more intriguing than normal private work, and he was good at it.
Then it all went to hell.
Flint survived the first purges, but has been in hiding for awhile now. However he has begun to raise an army. A poster here, a leaflet there all signifying a meet up of those who wish to stop the current 'leader'.
Psychological Profile:
Harsh, Quick witted, scheming and cold hearted. Flint was normally one to work alone, but the new order of things means he will have to begin working with others if they are going to stop the main threat. He wont take orders from anyone, but he isn't an idiot, and can be persuaded to do things if its for the best.
He is a long standing alcoholic, and it is rare to see him without a bottle on his person, many believe his way of work is inhumane, and he prefers to act first before asking questions.
More than likely not all there in his head, due to the terrible things he has seen in and out of war.
Possessions:
.44 Magnum revolver in shoulder holster.
An array of legal and illegal weapons he keeps at his current safe house, most are pre 1950's however.
Smudge, the cat.
Yes and
Flint knew about Beth through her criminal connections, and was on her tail at every corner until she spoilt all the fun and died.
When she was placed in the court he wasn't pleased, not just because of her past crimes but also because of the moral grounds on controlling others. |
46,607 | 1,263 | 131 | 2,024 | 59 | Tony was Rikive's first choice as well, but he pointed out why he wouldn't make a great leader in the thick of a fight. Unfortunately she had to agree, berserkers were great for breaking enemy lines but for leadership roles? Not so much. Beth mentioned Flint and she supposed he would make-and he was drunkenly rambling about some war in 1917.
Right, he was out as well.
Rikive was mulling over the other's and what she knew of them, when she realized Autumn was talking to her. "What, me?" She asked, blinking in surprise that someone was considering her for the position. Because she had kept calm in the throws of a battle? Many of the other's had kept level heads as well. She suppose, she did come from a culture the prizes fighting above all else. She did use to spend some time in her grandfather's hall, filled with all the great fallen warriors.
But...Did that qualify her to actually lead anyone?
She frowned in thought, comparing herself to other viable candidates. "I...suppose?" She responded with a small shrug, not sure what to say. She had never been put in this position before. "The final say falls to the group though." She said, making a small motion with her hand to everyone else in the room. "If they agree then, I will step forward to lead." | Name: Karram Sylian
Age: 56
Gender: Male
Breed/Species/Type/Lineage: Seelie Sidhe (Faerie)
Talents:
-Flight: The ability to fly with proficient maneuverability for a long duration of time.
-Nature Magic: The ability to manipulate nature in various ways such as entangling creatures with branches or roots, concealing himself within the earth, or harnessing energy from plant life to strengthen his blade.
-Illusory Manipulation: Can use Illusion Magic to disguise himself or create minor sensory illusions against others.
-Sleep Inducing Magic: The ability to induce a narcoleptic state of sleep in targeted creatures. (Related: Karram also has the innate ability to create illusions or send messages to sentient beings in their dreams.)
-Empathy: The ability to perceive people's emotions and motives.
-Sword-fighting: He is a trained swordfighter.
History:The Sylian branch family is renowned in the faerie community of Ireland. For centuries they have served as judges in the Seelie Court, with the primary responsibility of doling out punishment for faeries who have committed crimes against the mortals or faerie brethren. Karram Sylian's family was different however. He was the unfortunate product of an unlawful relationship between a Seelie faerie and an Unseelie faerie. His father was pronounced a traitor to the community and both he and his forbidden lover were executed. Karram Sylian was to be banished from the Seelie Court and sent to the Ashen Pit where Unseelie miscreants lived. However his father's brother, Eromyr, was able to convince the council to spare the infant faerie and grant him 20 years of life to prove his usefulness to the community. The council gave in and allowed Eromyr to adopt Karram and teach him as his own.
For the next 15 years Karram grew up learning the ways of the Seelie Court, faerie magic, and other resourceful trades. He never learned about his past or birth parents until his 16th birthday. Eromyr sat him down and explained the scenario that lead to his birth. Astonished and heartbroken, Karram spent the next few weeks lazing in a deep depression. But eventually he came to his senses and decided his life's work would be to amend his family's honor and eventually become Seelie Grandmaster. On his 20th birthday Karram was brought before the council of elders and rigorously tested. His incredibly honed skills and vast faerie knowledge surprised the council, and so they let him live.
Five years later Karram was appointed as a Seelie Adviser, the same position his uncle Eromyr held. He and Eromyr were sent with several others to the United States to set up a new branch of the Seelie Court within the supernatural communities that exist there. Karram was especially excited to travel to a new place where he could make a name for himself without the past haunting his every move. For the last 31 years, Karram has served as an adviser in the courts. He is known for his ability to detect the emotions and motives of defendants as well as his overall intelligence and loyalty; even receiving a few nods from Count Caradoc in the past.
In the human world, Karram originally disguised himself as a young and ambitious David Rodgers. He took up a job as an attorney and excelled in the position for just over 20 years. However he was commanded by the courts to change both his disguise and persona due to skepticism in his office over his apparent lack of aging. So he adopted the name Karl Silverman and has since been working for the IRS at the request of the courts (presumably so he could look into some of the supernaturals who mingle with with the humans).
But now everything has changed. The resurrection of Nemsemet and the slaughter of the Count and his high council has caused chaos in the supernatural world, and the last thing Karram wants is for that chaos to spill into the mortal world. Because if it does, it could bring the whole world to its knees...
Psychological Profile:Karram is unlike most faeries in many ways. Determined and courageous, Karram is always looking to prove himself useful to his community; and to himself. He hides his insecurities and depression by focusing entirely on work, and so he could easily be seen as a workaholic. He finds the usual rambunctious and mischievous nature of his fellow faeries to be immature; whereas he tends to focus on more serious matters. However he does share a deep distrust for Unseelie Sidhe due to his interactions with them in the courts as well as the indoctrination he experienced living with the Seelie Sidhe community in Ireland. Outside of combat or work, Karram is relatively quiet and often becomes entranced in his own thoughts. He also has trouble turning off his professionalism considering he doesn't harbor many actual friendships.
Possessions:
-Oakbane, a custom blade enchanted with earthen magic.
-Sylian Pendant, a necklace worn by members of the Sylian Branch Family.
-Faerie Dagger, a small dagger he keeps sheathed on his lower back as a secondary/defensive weapon.
Yes, and:
Karram was one of the presiding advisers during Antonio's preliminary hearing, where he briefly met Flint as well. He was the one that suggested his innocence after reading his emotions in the courtroom. Although initially ignored, Antonio was proven innocent anyway after the murders continued.
Flash forward several decades later, Karram, under his human guise of Karl Silverman, was asked by the IRS to audit the Horizon Foundation before their annual licensing renewal. It was apparent from the start that despite his disguise Antonio knew who he was, more than likely by scent. It was a moderately uncomfortable confrontation but nonetheless remained civil.
(^Can be amended or changed entirely if you don't think it fits.) |
46,608 | 1,263 | 132 | 1,650 | 715 | Gray didn't take his gaze off of the prone figure. "Alright August. We'll do it that way." He leaned forward to look at her closer. To an untrained personage this vampire looked quite dead but if a vampire never moved they would be mistaken for a corpse because they were.
The hunter took a steady grip on the spike and on their captive's left shoulder and began tugging. The puckering wound issued out globs of dark blood as the spike was carefully removed. The air was permeated by the sick sound of a pressurized wound letting air in. Discarding the stained piece of metal into the hallway he noted Karram was coming. "Hey. If you're joining us I'd suggest staying at the door. We don't need everyone in here but we just might need your help in a moment." Gray turned back to their guest and addressed both August and Karram. "She'll be stirring soon." Finally he took a seat, rubbing his shoulder absentmindedly. | Name: Gray Conover
Age: 31
Gender: Male
Species: Human
Physical Description:
Gray stands at 5'11. He is broad-shouldered and lanky, his advantage against his enemies is obviously not brute strength yet he has exercised thoroughly to try to make up some of the difference if he ever has to get that close. He has a long face and a pointed chin and hazel eyes, characteristics that seems to run in his family. His hair color is dark brown and he has mutton chops and doesn't bother to manage his hair so it stands pretty unkempt. He keeps it just short enough in the front that it won't become a problem in combat.
Talents:
Creative Combatant - Gray is a very experienced killer and it comes mainly from his ability to think on his feet and react quickly. Even without weapons on his person he can figure out ways to kill something by using his environment and playing dirty. He certainly doesn't hold back on the playing dirty part which might irk off those noble vampires or whatever the hell else thinks they have some kind of fair fighting spirit in combat. It's always life or death and Gray doesn't plan on being the one dying.
Broad Monster Knowledge - Gray knows how to kill all the common creeps. Werewolves, vampires, zombies(Those are the easy ones), etc. It comes from a personal history of doing just that. If he can't kill it he'll get away and study for some way to do so. After all, his hefty pay check rides on this important task.
Extensive Arms Experience - Gray is both a military veteran and an arms enthusiast. As such he has both experience and extensive practice with firearms. Having talent and practice make him a very accurate shot with long weapons in particular.
History:
Killing monsters runs in the family and family is what really matters. Gray grew up with values, often unapparent to others, that keep him from going too far in the field. He grew up with several brothers and a sister and for the earliest part of his life had no idea what his family really did. They sheltered him from it until he was ready to know the truth. That truth didn't come until it was nearly too late.
Gray joined the military. He was in the army on tour in the middle east when he encountered his first taste of the supernatural world. They seemed like normal middle-eastern villagers. Lured into their village on their patrol, Gray's team didn't pose a very good chance. They had the resilience and constitution of ghouls. Meaning they wouldn't go down without a good headshot or leg shot. Most of his team was felled by their inhuman stamina with mere farm tools. Their adversary was quick and dangerous but he had and the remainder of his squad had the resolve to survive. It wasn't until later that he understood what they were. They weren't undead. They were the "blessed warriors" of a demonic duke known as Abigor that had been piggybacking on wars and feeding off of them since iron was used as a weapon. It made sense why he'd be making his rounds in the most war torn nation in the world.
On his return to the States Gray reunited with his family. Upon hearing his experience they began to explain to him the finer parts of their history. The Conover's have been killing monsters for nearly two-hundred years. Gray had a legacy he was willing to uphold.
Unfortunately that legacy was difficult to acquire with the councils of creatures banded together throughout the world. With the councils keeping everything in check his family didn't indulge in hunting so much anymore. The councils were a necessary evil but they were still monsters and Gray couldn't personally trust them to keep things steady. He needed a group that would let him bypass getting a hit on his head by an organization that vastly overpowered him. It took a while and he took up jobs killing rogue beasts in the process which the council overlooked because of the nature of the cases. He wasn't that good at first. Not many people are. The evil monsters that let themselves be tracked by an amateur are generally the easiest to kill. Gray had mistakes and near-death experiences but his resolve and ingenuity always had the tendency to save him.
When you're feeling hand over hand through the dark you always find something.
Psychological Profile: Gray seems to be morally ambiguous to people who don't know him. To those who do, they see the bold line he won't cross. If a creature isn't a killer and has no potential to be he won't take its life. He sees many jobs he's taken as necessary evil to protect humanity. Overall he views himself as a protector, but damn if he doesn't like a good paycheck.
Gray loves humor in all its forms. He'd be pretty depressing if he couldn't take a good joke every now and then. Even if it's completely misplaced and awkward.
Possessions:
Gray has two large suitcases that are normally too heavy for normal airport admittance. One stores his set of armor. The armor is customizable on the job with many spots for Kevlar inserts, a bite guard, a helmet and a few other minor items to help him adapt to circumstances. Teeth, claws or (preferably not) bullets. He's got something to give him some edge.
Aside from a few spots in the first suitcase for some Glocks and ammunition (Affordability, you lose guns a lot when you're hunting.) he has saved room in his other suitcase for a few sets of street clothes(primarily gray t-shirts, blue jeans and a black jacket) and a compartment for his modified AA12 with silver slugs in three drum magazines. Either crammed in this case or in a car he keeps an Ares 16 with a variety of attachments for use as a long-to-mid range rifle and a grenade launcher(For that beasty who just doesn't want to go down).
Gray wears a small titanium chain around his neck that has several items dangling from it. A small pot-like skull about the size of a thumb that has dried herbs in it, consisting primarily of wolf's bane to ward off a werewolf's ability to smell him. A small alienish shell filled with holes is also affixed to it. This shell happens to be the only item he has that is magic and he only uses it as a last chance item. Thankfully he's only ever used it once before. He isn't quite sure if it has lasting consequences but man does it become handy in a bind. By saying a set of keywords the artifact teleports him an indeterminate distance away to a random location(or whatever location it wants him at, he really has no idea if it has its own agenda. Eerie). The last item dangling from his chain is a simple Celtic cross because it's cool.
A useful item that is never far from his reach is his trusty silver kukri knife.
Yes, and:
Arachne, a master of information has a real talent for finding what she needs and hiding what should stay hidden. Well, Arachne found Gray Conover. A relatively easy, if a little volatile, person to manipulate and point at targets. Contracting Gray for missions with a high paycheck is really quite easy to do. |
46,609 | 1,263 | 133 | 781 | 162 | In her sleep, Kaori didn't exactly dream, but rather reflected.
The vision that came to her took her back to the modest home of her human life. Through those eyes, the world had been so much dimmer, and so unclear. She couldn't focus on more than one sight at a time. It felt like she had cotton in her ears when she couldn't discern the sounds from the next room, or count the number of heartbeats in the small building. She felt horribly weak.
Slowly - so slowly - she rotated where she stood in the small, plain kitchen that had belonged to her mortal family. The little room, with its sad implications of poverty, felt as if it had a chokehold around her throat, suffocating her. It was strange, the feeling of suffocation after not needing air for so many years.
Through her muffled ears, she heard the sound of footsteps behind her, and the kind, affectionate calling of her name, "Kaori?" Her frail body softened at the tone, reacting from a place of emotion. Why? She turned towards the voice that sung out from the doorway only a few feet from where she stood. In the voice's body, she recognized pieces of herself. Like a puzzle of a self-portriat that had been put together slightly inaccurately. The body was too short, and a little more wrinkled than she. But somewhere in those pieces, she recognized the smooth slope of her own cheeks, and the dark, comfortable depth of her eyes that had never quite gone away. "Mom," she breathed, shattering the cold resolve of her new life to experience, for a rare moment, the painful warmth of human longing.
----
Her dark lashes trembled, and then slowly blinked apart. It was the first movement she made, and the only other sign of life was the enrichment of her pale skin tone when her blood began to pump. She didn't gasp for the air the way they did in the movies. She didn't need air.
The vampire's keen eyes opened to a dank space. She could feel the dust particles on her skin, and as she took her first breath, she could smell it in the air. She rolled her head from where it had been resting against the wall to look ahead, finding the room littered with random chairs, one of which held the hunter.
Her eyes narrowed a bit. It was partially a look of distaste for him, but mostly an expression of confusion. The room was unfamiliar, and the last she could remember of the hunter was draining his blood on the rooftop. She ran the tip of her tongue over her bottom lip where the blood had since dried. How long had it been?
When she tried to sit up, she winced at the still-closing chest wound. Her stomach had healed since taking a gut-full of lead. Between the two injuries, her shirt had been torn to near-rags, and was covered in dried and fresh pools of blood. She took a glance at the decorative robe that hung from her shoulders. It had survived the encounter in one piece with only a few bloodspots.
She shifted a bit in her bounds, looking around the room warily, like a wounded animal. For a vampire, she was weakened. She might still be capable of holding her own against an inexperienced mortal, but it was unlikely that she would be breaking out of this room full of supernatural beings in her current state. Finally, she closed back in on the hunter, "Where...am I?" she weakly managed. Out of the heat of battle, her voice was surprisingly and distinctly feminine. | Name: Kaori Lyle
Age: 42 (Appears Early 20’s)
Gender: Female
Breed/Species/Type/Lineage: Vampire
Talents:
- Immortality
- Enhanced strength and agility
- Enhanced Senses
- Healing
- Experienced with firearms and blades
- Vulnerabilities: fire, sunlight, decapitation, and stakes
History: During the Vietnam War, Kaori’s father (American) met her mother while deployed. As the war came to an end, the two were married. He moved his new wife back to the United States where Kaori would be born and raised.
In the aftershock of the war, Kaori and her mother suffered mild discrimination. However, it was the emotional trauma suffered by her father that began the family’s decent into poverty. To cope with his PTSD, her father became heavily dependent on alcohol and struggled to provide for his family. Although her mother tried, the stigma surrounding her heritage and her own ignorance of American ways made it very difficult for her to earn any type of substantial income.
In her teenage years, Kaori turned to illegal activity to help her family survive. She began in petty theft, and eventually branched out to drug distribution. She continued this line of ‘work’ into her early adult years, until one risky deal went poorly and nearly cost Kaori her life and lead to her ‘change’ into vampirism by a being with a similar heritage to her own. While the first year of her vampirism was difficult, her mentor provided guidance to help Kaori to use her new talents to enhance her old life. She quickly sharpened her skills, and became a sought after ally in criminal circles.
Her talents earned her enough money to support her parents until their eventual death, after which she relocated and eventually settled in New Camden. She now occupies an elegant loft apartment and loans her skills to the highest bidder. Although she has done jobs for members of the council, she did not work for them exclusively.
Over the years, she has had few valuable relationships and friendships as they typically end poorly or in violence.
Psychological Profile: Due to the nature of her work, Kaori doesn’t exactly hold to any strong morals. However, she has common sense enough to think carefully through her actions so as not to compromise herself or the supernatural community. While she isn’t opposed to taking a life, she also doesn’t murder recklessly as she resents the notion of being little more than an animal. Because she came to the country feeling like an outsider, she’s always been a bit of a loner and doesn’t confide much in other people. A very deeply buried part of herself aches over her constant loneliness, but it’s unlikely that anyone would ever get close enough to her to discover this weakness. Also, Kaori has grown to admire fine things and detests the notion of poverty.
Possessions:
-Vietnamese kimonos/robes inherited from her late mother
-A small arsenal of firearms
-Collection of valuable blades from different areas of asia
Yes, and:Kaori crossed paths with Gray Conover one dark night when she was fulfilling a request given to her by the council. When she arrived, she found her prey being hunted by an unlikely predator. From the smell of his blood, Kaori suspected he was human. She lurked in the shadows until the job was done, studying the brave human's methods...and memorizing his scent. |
46,610 | 1,263 | 134 | 2,377 | 482 | Tangible for the time being, Beth tapped two fingers against the side of her thigh in a quick rhythm. It was the only sign of impatience she displayed, though she didn't much care whether anyone in the room noticed. They likely felt the same way. She absorbed only the key words and information from the discussion, eyes darting from one speaker to the next. As far as leadership went, she did not trust a single member of their thrown-together team, but if she were to place a bet on someone, it would have been Tony.
Perhaps in part because she valued his smarts.
Nonetheless, she could not deny the sense in his rebuttal. She nodded and directed her attention to Rikive as the subject of her leadership emerged. Beth barely knew the Asgardian. Save the few occasions she had questioned Rikive about ancient or futuristic magicks -- whichever category other realms like Asgard fell into -- and the multitude of short meetings they had whenever Beth visited Parael, the ghost spent little time with Rikive. However, her skills were not to be dismissed, and the woman had a sound head on her shoulders.
"I can see you as our leader," Beth admitted, smiling some. "In the very least, you might be able to keep Parry from doing anything else stupid." She ceased her fidgeting and dropped the smile. "No one poses a better chance. Now, is anyone else concerned leaving that woman and the hunter alone with our best lead isn't the brightest idea?" She gestured towards the room they held their captive in, then followed Karram to the door. | Name: Rikive Heimdalsdóttir
Age: ?
Gender: Female
Breed/Species/Type/Lineage: Deity
Physical Description:
Talents:-Hand to hand combat (including 'god like' speed and strength)
-Extraordinary eyesight (in light or dark), heightened hearing and extremely high endurance
-Healing magic
History:Rikive is the daughter of the God Heimdall and an elven maiden named, Alfrún. She spent most of her life in Asgard, in the hall of her father. She had always been curious about Midgard, but finally came to the mortal realm due to the encouragement of her father.
When she came to Midgard she did not know nor understanding the rules of how the supernatural were to interact with human society. For the most part she had done well adjusting to modern life, it wasn’t the first time a god had gone to Midgard to pretend to be human. She had picked up on certain social norms, but some had escaped her notice. She had learned rather harshly that duels of honor were not accepted anymore.
One unfortunate encounter with a particularly obnoxious man, he lost one hand and she was the one arrested.
That one incident and she found herself in debt to the system set up to keep order with supernatural beings. Some had told her to merely run and return to Asgard, but she stubbornly denied such an idea. She would repay her debt as she was honor bound to do.
A few times she had been tempted to make the debt dwindle a little faster using...less than savory means. She was strong and skilled, certain operations would have paid her a lot of money to provide them with protection. However she always refused, it wasn’t right.
Psychological Profile:Quiet, reflective, and idealistic. Interested in serving humanity. Well-developed value system, which she strives to live in accordance with. Extremely loyal. Adaptable and laid-back unless something she holds in high regard is challenged. Mentally quick, and able to see possibilities. Interested in understanding and helping people.
Possessions:-Winterthorn an enchanted blade, it's powers/abilities:
- Sheath transforms into a viking round shield
Yes, and:When Rikive first arrived to Camden and she was still adjusting to modern human society, she met Parael by chance. He proved to be a great teacher (in his own fun, flamboyant manner), helping her to adapt to Midgard as it is now and she considers him a good friend. She is currently helping him by standing as protection and keeping watch for his daycare center. |
46,611 | 1,263 | 135 | 1,650 | 715 | She awoke gracefully like someone rising after a long nap. It was impressive that she refrained from gasping with surprise or looking at him with the same predacious eyes of that beast. After looking around in what he could assume was a little confusion she, with a gentle tone that set him off a little, queried. "Where...am I?"
Silence grasped the room, only the murmur down the hall and patter of footsteps accompanied it. Gray let in a sink in for a few seconds before answering. "You - little lady - are in the home of a very pissed off group of monsters." He gave a glance at Autumn before continuing. "Uh, sorry. Anyways. Most of us have been displaced by the new ruler in town." Gray gave pause to emphasize the name. "Nemsemet. I know there's a lot of bad blood between him and people in town. We're going to off him. He died before so we'll put him down again. Before I get into a rant I'll have to introduce myself. If you get of this alive you'll get to know my name." If she could see his face behind the mask he'd be smiling.
"The name is Gray Conover. I'm a business owner, a hunter, and I'm here to protect this city." He didn't throw in the line about a paycheck he was definitely thinking about. "Now's your turn. You can give me some bull but I don't think it'd be worth anyone's time. So be honest. We like honest here." | Name: Gray Conover
Age: 31
Gender: Male
Species: Human
Physical Description:
Gray stands at 5'11. He is broad-shouldered and lanky, his advantage against his enemies is obviously not brute strength yet he has exercised thoroughly to try to make up some of the difference if he ever has to get that close. He has a long face and a pointed chin and hazel eyes, characteristics that seems to run in his family. His hair color is dark brown and he has mutton chops and doesn't bother to manage his hair so it stands pretty unkempt. He keeps it just short enough in the front that it won't become a problem in combat.
Talents:
Creative Combatant - Gray is a very experienced killer and it comes mainly from his ability to think on his feet and react quickly. Even without weapons on his person he can figure out ways to kill something by using his environment and playing dirty. He certainly doesn't hold back on the playing dirty part which might irk off those noble vampires or whatever the hell else thinks they have some kind of fair fighting spirit in combat. It's always life or death and Gray doesn't plan on being the one dying.
Broad Monster Knowledge - Gray knows how to kill all the common creeps. Werewolves, vampires, zombies(Those are the easy ones), etc. It comes from a personal history of doing just that. If he can't kill it he'll get away and study for some way to do so. After all, his hefty pay check rides on this important task.
Extensive Arms Experience - Gray is both a military veteran and an arms enthusiast. As such he has both experience and extensive practice with firearms. Having talent and practice make him a very accurate shot with long weapons in particular.
History:
Killing monsters runs in the family and family is what really matters. Gray grew up with values, often unapparent to others, that keep him from going too far in the field. He grew up with several brothers and a sister and for the earliest part of his life had no idea what his family really did. They sheltered him from it until he was ready to know the truth. That truth didn't come until it was nearly too late.
Gray joined the military. He was in the army on tour in the middle east when he encountered his first taste of the supernatural world. They seemed like normal middle-eastern villagers. Lured into their village on their patrol, Gray's team didn't pose a very good chance. They had the resilience and constitution of ghouls. Meaning they wouldn't go down without a good headshot or leg shot. Most of his team was felled by their inhuman stamina with mere farm tools. Their adversary was quick and dangerous but he had and the remainder of his squad had the resolve to survive. It wasn't until later that he understood what they were. They weren't undead. They were the "blessed warriors" of a demonic duke known as Abigor that had been piggybacking on wars and feeding off of them since iron was used as a weapon. It made sense why he'd be making his rounds in the most war torn nation in the world.
On his return to the States Gray reunited with his family. Upon hearing his experience they began to explain to him the finer parts of their history. The Conover's have been killing monsters for nearly two-hundred years. Gray had a legacy he was willing to uphold.
Unfortunately that legacy was difficult to acquire with the councils of creatures banded together throughout the world. With the councils keeping everything in check his family didn't indulge in hunting so much anymore. The councils were a necessary evil but they were still monsters and Gray couldn't personally trust them to keep things steady. He needed a group that would let him bypass getting a hit on his head by an organization that vastly overpowered him. It took a while and he took up jobs killing rogue beasts in the process which the council overlooked because of the nature of the cases. He wasn't that good at first. Not many people are. The evil monsters that let themselves be tracked by an amateur are generally the easiest to kill. Gray had mistakes and near-death experiences but his resolve and ingenuity always had the tendency to save him.
When you're feeling hand over hand through the dark you always find something.
Psychological Profile: Gray seems to be morally ambiguous to people who don't know him. To those who do, they see the bold line he won't cross. If a creature isn't a killer and has no potential to be he won't take its life. He sees many jobs he's taken as necessary evil to protect humanity. Overall he views himself as a protector, but damn if he doesn't like a good paycheck.
Gray loves humor in all its forms. He'd be pretty depressing if he couldn't take a good joke every now and then. Even if it's completely misplaced and awkward.
Possessions:
Gray has two large suitcases that are normally too heavy for normal airport admittance. One stores his set of armor. The armor is customizable on the job with many spots for Kevlar inserts, a bite guard, a helmet and a few other minor items to help him adapt to circumstances. Teeth, claws or (preferably not) bullets. He's got something to give him some edge.
Aside from a few spots in the first suitcase for some Glocks and ammunition (Affordability, you lose guns a lot when you're hunting.) he has saved room in his other suitcase for a few sets of street clothes(primarily gray t-shirts, blue jeans and a black jacket) and a compartment for his modified AA12 with silver slugs in three drum magazines. Either crammed in this case or in a car he keeps an Ares 16 with a variety of attachments for use as a long-to-mid range rifle and a grenade launcher(For that beasty who just doesn't want to go down).
Gray wears a small titanium chain around his neck that has several items dangling from it. A small pot-like skull about the size of a thumb that has dried herbs in it, consisting primarily of wolf's bane to ward off a werewolf's ability to smell him. A small alienish shell filled with holes is also affixed to it. This shell happens to be the only item he has that is magic and he only uses it as a last chance item. Thankfully he's only ever used it once before. He isn't quite sure if it has lasting consequences but man does it become handy in a bind. By saying a set of keywords the artifact teleports him an indeterminate distance away to a random location(or whatever location it wants him at, he really has no idea if it has its own agenda. Eerie). The last item dangling from his chain is a simple Celtic cross because it's cool.
A useful item that is never far from his reach is his trusty silver kukri knife.
Yes, and:
Arachne, a master of information has a real talent for finding what she needs and hiding what should stay hidden. Well, Arachne found Gray Conover. A relatively easy, if a little volatile, person to manipulate and point at targets. Contracting Gray for missions with a high paycheck is really quite easy to do. |
46,612 | 1,263 | 136 | 1,012 | 4,032 | It was a really goddamn bad idea to leave anyone alone with the hunter; but Tony wasn't fond of shotguns loaded with silver -- his shoulder still ached, all healing aside -- and it was probably worth noting that a couple of the others in this place were Court enforcers and knew how to interrogate someone.
He slipped in behind the others and gave a full-body shiver when Gray gave his full name freely like that; supernaturals tended to be wary about true names, hair and toenail clippings and other things that a wizard, like Flint, or maybe not like Flint but more subtle and creative in their power use, might find ways to royally fuck with someone in retribution for some grudge. Wizards were terrible if given enough time to creatively apply their power to the goal in mind, it's when their potential became one of the scariest things in the universe. It's why the vampires considered them freaks, lycanthropes tried to stay the fuck out of the way and why wizards, who seemed terribly squishy and relatively mortal compared to the others, were at least as powerful as the vampires within the Court system and were the nobility of it alongside the vampires.
The bloodsuckers had charm and addictive blood and blended in easily, but it was the wizards that could pull the things out of thin air, track things down, or, if provided a true name, use a name to bind a creature.
In retrospect, Tony didn't expect Gray to know the rules of the Court and that was an advantage. Nemsemet was throwing the rules out anyway, and hunters never really cared for them -- some jurisdictions liked to throw those that violated the rules out to the mercy of the mortal world, and that included hunters.
--
The sword had gone so easily through Billy Rikker's neck, so lightly and easily that it intrigued Gordon. Unlike people in this regrettable era of modernity and electronic alchemy, he'd grown up in a time when the sword saw some use and, as a cavalryman himself, understood that some swords, some steel, was wrought differently from others.
And he'd never found steel like that before.
So he'd set about finding translations for the various things written on the blade and came back with a variety of interesting graffiti.
'Chengdu: 20 Bitches and a Dragon'
'18 Sutra Positions; my love to Indira!'
'Jerusalem. Nothing to see here.'
'Venetian Masque; ALL the bitches and bros!'
'Oberon ate my-'
'Assholes all around me! Fuck Paris.'
'Chief says I can't handle my shit. Not smoking again.'
'So many mushrooms!'
And then a sigil, and wasn't that interesting? Something on the pommel to identify it further as belonging to someone, and clearly not Billy Rikker. When he'd taken it to Anastasia, who was his contact among the witches and warlocks of the city, she gave it a brush of the finger and immediately asked him, very sharply, where he'd gotten that. Gordon, seeing no reason to deal dishonestly with one of Nemsemet's key supporters, told her that it'd come from Billy Rikker.
"So it must be something that magpie acquired in the course of his escapades."
Anastasia, under Nemsemet, turned to the use of necromancy to enhance her looks and take a fading beauty and turn it back into youth, using illegal magics, though it was a pallid and disturbing youthful beauty that gave off the impression that something wasn't right on the visceral level. Dark of eye, blonde haired and immaculately couture'd in clothing that conveyed a softening of a more severe business style that blended the feminine without denying it but still created the impression of power, she didn't seem like the typical wizarding type. However much that seemed the case, in the department of subtle magics that identify, tracked and, rather importantly, cursed, she was equaled by few. Her office, in a very upscale office building at the heart of the city, had a fabulous view of the nightscape; the office was done with marble and bright lighting that complemented the ward sigils set into the wall in silver, and the summoning circle on the floor, off to the side. There was a real fire, gas-fired with coals in an open circular area, that made for a discreet and tasteful alchemy station. The place was a working lab, but it was done with a designer's exacting eye. Anastasia had started life as a fashion designer and transitioned into magic as her youthful beauty began to fade and she stumbled into a latent talent. The Court disapproved of some of her methods of preserving her beauty, which made her a fervent enemy of it. Gordon couldn't relate -- his looks were eternal, frozen in place, but the woman opposite him was frantic and ruthless in her attempts to salvage her vanity.
Nonetheless, she was a dangerous ally, and her intelligence, notwithstanding her obsession with beauty, was not to be underestimated at all. In fact, her time spent working social circles in the mortal world left her with a keen appreciation of one of the most important principles of magic -- connections.
"And you are absolutely correct, madam," Gordon told her with the mannerisms of his youth that he retained in addressing a woman, even though gender differences were far less important to a vampire, though feeding preference was often an outgrowth of sexual orientation, at least in some cases. Gordon, for example, never could bring himself to feed upon a man unless it were truly a necessity, and then found the experience oddly distasteful. There was an intimacy between predator and prey and he preferred women.
"There is power in that sword," she told him, steepling her fingers from behind the desk where the sword lay; the office was fairly modern, clean lines, carefully designed with feng shui in mind to channel spiritual energy beneficial to her purposes while redirecting and disrupting magical energy channeled from outside -- her office was . As a magician, Anastasia Petrova was one of the more useful consultants in the city for setting up wards and tracking items on the basis of their connections to people. She could read objects and see their spiritual relationship to one another, "But the full power is not the weapon itself. It's a representative of greater power, a trapping of office."
She also warded up Nemsemet's lair in the Museum; Augustus tripped right into her traps, which were enhanced with the callous use of sacrifices to fuel the magic. It was dirty, dangerous, aura darkening stuff, but she didn't seem to particularly worry about the cost of the magic.
"One of Billy's henchmen claimed that there were a couple sword-wielding beings in the Rusty Steak knife. One of them had wings," Gordon related -- it was more like an interrogation. He had use for some of Billy's henchmen, but Vinny had gotten impolite and didn't grasp the nuances, which was a nice way to say the stark fucking realities, of the new situation. Gordon had limited patience for the man's petty insolences and insistence that Gordon needed him to keep people in line.
But he'd talked at the end. Charles Gordon was a man from a different era, but he was a curious soul, so he decided to experiment with electricity in interrogating a vampire.
Turned out it worked quite well. He dimmed lightbulbs running a current through a metal frame and chickenwire, and Vinny hadn't survive the process, but he'd gotten descriptions of the people involved.
"Wings."
"And a sword."
Anastasia looked disturbed -- the implications were profound, "If they are getting involved in matters, it may well be something Lord Nemsemet must be made aware of."
Gordon nodded agreement, even as he crossed one leg over the other in his chair, his suit coat unbuttoned, "I was on my way to him after I consulted with you, but I agree, that may well be somewhat more grave. If we can, perhaps, divine the name associated with that sigil, we perhaps have a better idea of the enemies aligning against the Lord Nemsemet. It would explain a great deal of why the Rusty Steak knife was hit so unsubtly."
Angels were beings of immense power and legendary ferocity and amorality. They were not designed for free will -- they followed orders. The most warlike of the bunch, or the ones that carried the water for some of the more scary acts of history, were not programmed to think of the why, merely the how. That's how "Kill the firstborn" happened. That's how Sodom and Gomorrah went down. Angels made the Prussian generals on trial at Nuremburg look like small timers for following orders that happened to, incidentally, involve committing what humans would morally reckon an atrocity. Prussian generals had guilty consciences. Angels were designed without them. They were designed from the ground up to do their job and a conscience was deemed surplus to the requirements.
They didn't play. When you had that much power, you didn't have to. There were constraints to such power, however, and they were well understood within the community-- Angels didn't just pop up with their power. They worked within rules. They had mandates. They were under general orders from Headquarters.
Anastasia brushed her fingertip against the sword's hilt, the sigil, again, and told Gordon, "The bearer is no doubt already aware that others are handling his sword. It is a link to him, it could be used to curse or track. An angel is morally responsible for their own weapon, as well."
"It's leverage," Gordon told her. | Name: Antonio Victor Barnes
Age: 65
Gender: Male
Breed/Species/Type/Lineage: Lycanthrope; were-lion.
Talents:- Beastman form; deadly and effective, but terrifying and very, very, very obvious. It is a combination of a Lion's instincts and muscle density and natural equipment with the upright stature of a human being and a degree of their thought processes melded with the instinct of the animal. It is monstrous and the reason the legends exist.
- Full African lion form - like the cat. Not nearly as useful as, say, a wolf form that could be written off as a dog.
- Fast-healing in man-beast. In other forms, he takes damage normally.
- If hit with anything silver, he is immediately shifted back into normal human form. Also, if a silver bullet is in him, he is unable to shift.
- Rage; in enough pain, he'll see red and there is the potential to start killing indiscriminately to escape this. On the other hand, he's had years to learn how to control this.
- As the moon cycles, his abilities wax and wane; at full moon, he has a hard time controlling said abilities. Nearer the new moon, he finds it requires an extra degree of effort to use his abilities and he tends to tire out easier.
- Even as a human, he has increased senses that allows him to detect things with his nose; for example, sweat and various other secretions, and where they are emotionally based on that. It's a combination of animal magnetism and animal instinct.
History:Antonio Victor Barnes was born to a Afro-Cuban mother and a half-white father in New Camden, in the Dorset neighborhood, which was once home to the Cardinal's Point General Motors factory. His father, Joe, had a good job there, though he worked very hard for it. He'd come to Camden from Virginia. His mother had very little to say about the country she left or the circumstances back there.
In 1967 Uncle Sam decided to draft Antonio into the Vietnam War. He arrived in December of 1967 and saw service right as the Tet Offensive started up in February of 1968. He served in the 9th Infantry Division in the Mekong Delta, fighting near the Cambodian border. Serving as a cherry (replacement) in his new platoon, he served for five months of his tour, watching guys get blown up by booby traps, wounded by mortar fire, shot by Cong and NVA and otherwise chopped up in a futile-seeming war in the jungle; waist deep in the muck of the Mekong Delta. His battalion suffered repeated Viet Cong and NLF/PAVN attacks one night and the next put his company out on the outpost line, which was then overrun by a particularly savage attack by the Vietnamese. Terrified, with his squad dying and dead around him in the jungle night, he changed into the man-beast form and mauled a number of VC and NVA regulars, even as the A-6 Intruders dropped napalm and cluster bombs all over the jungle when the company CO called down the strikes inside his box, on top of the heads of friendlies.
His position took a hit, but he survived, to the astonishment of the reinforcements combing over the battlefield, policing up the weapons and the mauled bodies; the Vietnamese were dumped into a mass grave, the Americans taken to graves registration. But no one could figure up what tore up all these people -- some of the bodies were ripped to shreds.
"Shrapnel, napalm, fuckit," they said.
Barnes was MIA.
He spent time in the jungle, hunting, killing and learning his abilities, and eventually had a sense of how to control them enough to shift back to human form and find help. During that time, the legends were rife in VI Corps and Viet Cong alike of a killer tiger running about in the Delta, a huge, dangerous beast. So it was considered a miracle when he finally was found by the Army; presumed to have escaped POW captivity among the Viet Cong as well as the man-eater of the Mekong, he was evacuated out and then honorably discharged at the end of his draft service in Fort Polk.
His return to the World, coincided with the start of economic hard times in Camden, especially as Cardinal's Point started to lay people off and he flirted around with various dissident movements like the Black Panthers and other organizations that were concerned with the plight of the black man in America, especially after Vietnam. Every full moon, there was the potential for devastation and destruction, and he isolated himself to keep from having another situation where he killed people indiscriminately.
He bummed around the country and, ironically, ran into the Courts in New Orleans of all places, where the supernatural are able to move about a little more freely, and the mortals know a little more than they ought to. His girlfriend at the time, Marie, a Creole, introduced him to the Courts and the supernatural community, though she was somewhat shaky on how things worked because she wasn't entirely clued in, but steered him to people who definitely were.
He learned that he wasn't alone, wasn't the only one and there was a world out there with laws...and that if his black ass felt discriminated against before, wait until he met the Nobles of the courts.
New Orleans wasn't the worst place to lay up and learn things, the Court there was not one of the worst and he used his GI benefits to enroll in Tulane University, where he majored in social work, and carried that into a Master's in Business Administration while working in social work all over the State of Louisiana, where it was needed.
In the course of time, he returned to Camden when his father got sick to help take care of his parents, sometime in the early 1980's, and found that that Camden was as economically depressed as New Orleans. He quickly got to work with local activists and other like minded folk and started trying to find ways to work the system and rebuild the thriving middle class neighborhood he lived in, even as yuppie white fuckers exported all the jobs to places like China, and, ironically, Vietnam.
Fast forward decades later, and Antonio still looks rather young (magical energy tends to sustain a longer lifespan anyway) and has no idea how long his life is going to be, but he's spent a lot of it building the Horizon Foundation, a large not-for-profit that is devoted to preserving New Camden's cultural history and finding new ways to turn old buildings into something profitable within the community as well as retraining and employing locals, particularly out of economically depressed areas like his native Dorset. He paid his tithe, avoided Court politics and was trying to do something good with his life when Nemsemet came to town.
Not liking the injustice of the Court, he didn't really care what Nemsemet did to the likes of Caradoc de Lacy. The only problem is, of course, that Nemsemet is a crazy motherfucker and he's not stopping there. . He's also rallied a lot of lycanthropes to the cause, men and women that are a lot less controlled than Antonio is, raised in clans together that distrust the outside world and are indoctrinated against normal humanity. It's understandable, they've been hunted, persecuted and have lived on the margins. Antonio has some sway with them, in that they are not enthusiastically hunting one of their own, but they aren't listening when he tries to rally these various lycanthrope clans.
Nemsemet is bad news. Now he's on the run like a lot of other people.
Psychological Profile:Deep down, Barnes is still guilty about what he did in Vietnam, flying off the handle, killing a bunch of people indiscriminately. While time has healed some of it, he left the 'Nam resolved to do something worthy and good with the rest of his life, and got into the nitty gritty of social work and entepreneurial neighborhood development. He's always been careful to avoid getting overly involved in Court politics. The Court, so long as one pays tithe and avoids breaking the Concealment Edict, really doesn't care.
On the other hand, the injustice of the Court rankles Antonio, and he's happy to see it gone. But he has a regard for human life that most lycanthropes don't, and is one of the few standing against Nemsemet.
Possessions:A nice house, inherited from his deceased parents that isn't really safe to stay in any more. He's socked away money wisely invested, as well as his considerable salary as the CEO of Horizon. He has a particularly nice 1969 Pontiac Firebird and a shotgun at home that, quite frankly, he doesn't use.
He has a nice cell phone though and some authentic Vietnamese Buddhist prayer beads he picked up in the 1990's when he travelled back to 'Nam to make his peace with the past. They have supernatural significance that he doesn't really understand.
Yes, and: ...Flint and Antonio had a run-in in 1987 or so, when Flint suspected Antonio in a grisly series of murders that involved the consumption of corpses after digging into his Vietnam War history. Antonio was charged by the court, though his innocence was proven when the murders continued with him in custody. Flint and Antonio worked together grudgingly to catch the werewolf family responsible for it, but there's no love lost there. |
46,613 | 1,263 | 137 | 2,534 | 450 | While most of the merry band was in the prisoner's cell interrogating their prize, Parry had excused himself back to his own room citing a need for "air" in an underground, self contained bunker built to survive a thermonuclear exchange.
So "air" was a flimsy stand in for "I'm not feeling wanted right now, so I'm going to go pout."
It wasn't until he got halfway down the hall that the scratching, gnawing feeling in his gut went away. When Parry took a second to breathe in a sigh of relief, he got hit with a sledgehammer of memories.
An old hag. Mid-60s. Standing over a summoning circle. Call forth a lesser Daemon. She knows how to control it. Doesn't let it trick her or tempt her.
Doesn't overreach to summon a Greater Daemon either, letting greed destroy her.
Casually, she traps its power, its essence, and destroys its form.
Distills its essence down to a potion.
Sells it. Makes a tidy profit. Keeps some for herself though.
Later, much later, a bound victim in a circle of candles. Humanoid. But human? Fairy? Shifter? Cannot tell.
An assistant carries a knife- a scalpel. Hovers over the victim's chest. Casually carves a runic charm into the captive's stomach- superficial wounds, but bloody. Messy. Painful.
Blood drips down the victim's ribs and hips. Is collected into a bowl until there is almost a full cup of it.
Later. The blood is distilled. Mixed with the lesser daemon's essence.
Consumed.
And she is now in her 30s. Young, beautiful, and wise.
It continued in the back of Parry's skull on infinite loop, whether he was seeing the same rituals or repeated ones. The vision wasn't going anywhere and the feelings it stirred up in him went beyond revulsion. Something deep inside of him felt distorted, twisted, corrupted. That he was powerless to stop the visions meant he was only feeling all the more helpless.
He skipped going to his own bedroom and ran right for the showers, losing his shirt in the hallway, shucking his pants on the sink. He turned on the water full blast on hot while searching through his bag for his travel kit. Some Lush soap was the best Parry could find but he wanted bleach.
Twelve minutes under the shower and he'd scrubbed himself raw. The soap had left every inch of him smelling like Cool Melon and yet Parry still couldn't get the stain off of him.
Every second that passed it clawed at him deeper, digging into his essence. Something had him, was using him, studying him like a predator- of the animal or human variety.
Through choked sobs, Parry shouted at the ceiling, the showerhead, the steam cloud "What do you want? Tell me what you want! Just let go of me! Don't touch me!"
Finally, he couldn't take the scrutiny and the blemishing of his soul any longer. Parry left the shower stall and stumbled over to the mirror by the sink. With one forefinger in hand he started tracing his own runic marks into the steam clouded surface, then slammed his palm into the center of the glass.
A city in the East. Wind-swept and walled in, built upon an ancient flood plain. A pall of smoke hangs over the rooftops, from the slums to the palace, the market to the garrison.
There is wailing, keening cry that doesn't stop, and as the wind shifts the smoke blows back.
A corpse left to decay smells horrid. Ten thousand corpses burned in the streets- there are no words. If he required food to survive, there would be none left inside of him.
They hover over the west road out of the city. That way lies Rome. To the East is Parthia.
'It is done,' Cymriel Augustus murmurs.
'Firestorm would have been more merciful to them.'
Cymriel shrugs. 'An Arachnus Daemon loose within the city gets in every nook and cranny. A Firestorm would kill the humans quickly but an Arachnus would survive and thrive. Nothing cleans out the creatures like plague.'
Parry winces. 'And the children? What of them.'
That is his imperative. His existence. Before he was formed, as he was formed, until the day his form vanished it would be his reason for being.
Cymriel shakes its head. 'They will return to the Source of All. From there, who knows? It is not ours to question. It is ours to do. But take heart. There will be survivors. Orphans.'
There is no comfort to be had there. This is a hard place. A desolate place. Orphans will not live for long and he knows it.
Cymriel leaves, returning to The Shore. Parael stays and sees the fruits of their labors.
Within days the first trade caravan comes. The orphans Cymriel spoke of soon find one of two fates awaiting them. Death- by exposure, by hunger, by thirst, by smoke, by disease. Or slavery at the hands of the trade caravan.
The protection he can offer is minimal, bound by Eternal Law. As hundreds are carted off to be abused, used, and disposed of like chattel, he watches. A caravan of the hopeful, so many piglets being promised safety, wide-eyed, knowing nothing of how they will be used up by cities and empires that will note their passing with little more than a hole in the ground for their bones.
And as he watches that first caravan leave, that train of doomed hope, he does his duty and watches over them as best he can.
"See how you fucking like it, huh? Let go of me! Let go of me!" | Name: Parael Magnus
Age: 777
Gender: Androgynous (often answers to male pronouns)
Breed: Retired Celestial ('Nephilim')
Physical Description: (Because I can never get pictures to work right >.< )
Parael stands just shy of 6 feet tall, near 130lbs, with long golden hair grown down to his shoulders, often done up in a ponytail. When working at his center he's dressed in ragged jeans and a clean vest with a diaper bag over his shoulder. On the streets he often wears a button up vest, while channeling his powers can reveal ethereal wings that no longer physically exist.
Talents:
Parael lost most of his Celestial powers after he retired and became Nephilim, but he has picked up a few skills here and there since becoming half human...
- Divine Light: Normally deadly and natural to a full Celestial, Parael was taught to channel Divine power through his human hands roughly 500 years ago. Through human conjuring, this power is little more than a bright and hot flare.
- Glamour: By necessity, Parael has learned to harness human illusion powers to maintain glamours around himself and his place of business, disguising himself against mortal eyes.
History:
Parael doesn't like to discuss his history from before his retirement to the human world ("I abhor getting involved with all the human dogma over whose Creator is right. You all need to stop worrying your lovely faces about that and get to the business of living!") But certain individuals believe that he was present shortly after the moment of creation, this revelation coming from nights involving too much alcohol and pillow talk- and as with all such talk, could easily be a fabrication. Whatever precipitated Parael to hang up his wings in the Middle Ages is between Parael and whatever Celestial ordered him around at the time.
After coming down to Earth in the Far East during the Middle Ages and being tutored in human culture by a Chinese dragon, Parael hitch-hiked across the silk road with a Djinni caravan, partied in Europe among the Faerie courts through the Renaissance, sailed across the Atlantic to South America to run with were-jaguars during the Age of Exploration, chillaxed in the Caribbean with wizard cabals through to the 1800s, and finally settled in New Camden during the modern era. It wasn't until settling Camden that he actually began to buy into the tributary system and managed to cultivate a number of relationships with the ruling council of the city ("'Cultivate' is such a cleaned up word, darling! I got around. A lot.")
Celestial blood is a much desired commodity in the magical world, being used for anything from spell components in Elixers of Life to psychotropic drugs for werewolves. His identity as a Celestial would be impossible to conceal forever, so Parael worked out a deal with the city's vampire leader Caradoc de Lacy to provide a certain tithe of blood every month, allowing the vampire to store and imbibe it whenever he liked- negating the deadliness of sunlight to the city's leader for a few hours at a time. Being able to surprise his foes at high noon while they plotted against him was a boon the vampire couldn't afford to pass up. Caradoc, meanwhile, protected Parael's identity as a Celestial from the general supernatural population, eliminating anyone who got too close to the truth of how he could move about during daylight hours.
This protection became doubly handy when, in the Moral Panic of the 1980s, the human city council tried to shut down Parael's daycare center under the pretense of "protecting children from the homosexual menace." Caradoc stepped up and bullied the council into keeping away, but the Celestial soon found himself in deeper debt to Caradoc for the intercession.
Caradoc's human rival, Baroness Augusta, a wizard with an arsenal of magic at her disposal, lost three magi trying to discern how Caradoc could move about seemingly at random during the day. When she discovered the existence of Parael, the two leaders called a council to discuss his presence in Camden. Parael doesn't know what accord they came to, but the inquiries from the city's wizards did stop.
To the supernatural "public" of Camden, Parael is still an eccentric magi who is good with kids and operates out of a daycare center on the East Side. Parael pays tribute by watching over the children of other paranormals, occasionally enchanting them with glamour to pass under mortal gaze when not in full control of their powers; and most importantly, by his blood tithe to the Prince ("And judging by how Baroness Augusta's wrinkled face is looking, the covens are getting a cut too. Unless that's Botox she's taking and I'm wrong.")
With the arrival of Nemsemet and the eradication of the Count and his court, Parael is feeling the pressure whether to go underground or to step up and fight. Coming out of retirement is not in the cards, as a full Celestial entering battle with Nemsemet may emerge victorious, but the clash could level the city of New Camden and everyone in it. For now his daycare center has turned into nothing less than a fortified bunker with wizards and faeries placing wards all over the grounds to protect their next generation from the wrath of Nemsemet...
Psychological Profile:
Parael is a bubbly, flirtatious individual who is absolutely enthralled with the modern mortal world. The iPhone is a greater wonder than all the stars in the sky ("Except for Orion, that sly stud!"). His identity as an ex-Celestial is a closely guarded secret however, and he is supremely sensitive to anyone bringing up the idea that he could be one.
Possessions:
Parael travels light in his day-to-day work. He always has a slick, designer diaper bag on hand from which he pulls all manner of items including toys, food, spellbooks and extra clothes. Buried beneath the floorboards in his bedroom is a dirty, dented iron longsword which he treats with all the reverence of a Colt .45 when in hand.
He does keep an enormous collection of mementos in his apartment. He still has a silk robe which he picked up from his landing in China, which he often lays about in during his off hours, a set of jeweled earrings from India during his trek across the Silk Road, a silver Fairy Sword he got from the Queen of Spring in a tournament ("I'm not bragging, but it was actually the prize in a beauty contest."), and a collection of Obsidian daggers and war clubs during his time in the South American jungles with the were-panthers ("I've yet to find better steak knives and meat tenderizers!").
Yes, and: Parael Magnus hunkered down right after the appearance of the dread Nemsemet, warding his daycare center to try and hide the fact that he was a Celestial from the enemy and providing a place of safety for anyone else who needed a way to lay low... |
46,614 | 1,263 | 138 | 2,246 | 3,527 | Collab Solamelike and Trinais
A gentle knocking sound could be heard close to Parry as Flint gently knocked on the wall of the bathroom.
“Hey… you doing ok there?” Flint asked, attempting to look anywhere but the man in front of hims junk. It was not common with Flint for a man to seem to mutter at a mirror in the nude, and what was that smell….Cool Melon?
Parry, without a hint of shame or awareness of his current state, rounded on Flint with one hand still on the mirror.
“What? What is it now,” he growled. “I fucked up again. Say it. Say it!”
“You fucked up again” Flint said softly, walking towards Parry. “But that’s just you, and when you fall off the horse what do we do?” He picked up Parry’s pants from the sink beside him and stood next to the naked man
“We come back from the dead and grow wings” He placed the pants next to Parry as he leant on the wall, contemplating lighting a cigarette then deciding against it. “Mind explaining what that was?” He asked, looking harshly into Parry’s eyes. Flint had known him most of his life, but he had never seen anything like that before.
Parry didn’t laugh. He did look at the skinny jeans Flint had offered. Part of him wanted to stay in the buff just to mess with the hard-boiled flint. Part of him didn’t care what anybody felt like when around him. He was Parry H. Magnus, the H being short for “Hedonism.”
“The last time you saw me like this was in the 30s,” Parry said. He didn’t move. But he did smile just a little. “Speakeasy. When Old Fur tried to get into the bootleg trade and ended up spiking moonshine that got the Governor’s daughter sick.” Parry shook his head. “That’s the only time I’ve ever been on a stage like that. You know it was either the best or worst booze there ever was.”
“Oh man!” Flint said, his back now leaning against the wall as he seemed to look up, remembering the scene. “1931, I remember sitting by the bar with bullet holes in my hat and an empty Thompson in my bag… it was a long day” Flint seemed to almost smile, a rare sight in recent times.
“What the hell were you doing on that stage again?”
Parry grimaced. “Ah. I’d be lying if I said I remembered. I got sober while I was up there and just ran with it. But there was a couple of fairies in the front row that were happy to see me the way I was.” Parry shook his head. “I did wink at you on purpose though. Just because I knew you’d react the way you did. We had some fun in the 20s and you never did stop blushing. Called me a ‘Sodomite’ the first time and then you got used to it after I never stopped.”
“But yeah… wings.” Parry shrugged. “That’s not normal even in our circles. I get it. What do you want to know?”
“Where you happened to acquire some? I could always do with a little more manoeuvrability” Flint joked, remembering the times that Parry mentioned. He always did have his overly flamboyant ways of making him uncomfortable, but in all honesty he was one of the only people he had memories with, the rest either dying a long time ago or being only a few decades old to not have been born yet.
“I borrowed them. From an old co-worker. Along with the sword.” PArry looked into the mirror at the charms he’d traced with his finger. A mind ward hastily drawn, redrawn, and drawn over again. Then a very vulgar communique meant to send a not-so-subtle ‘Fuck you’ across space.
“Mine are still hung up and waiting for me… elsewhere.”
“I feel like you haven’t been telling me the whole story ‘Parry the Mage’ ”Flint’s dreamy daze was now cut as he began to think back to the present.
“That sort of power isn’t possible after the wounds you had succumbed, I’ve known you. What?! Nearly one hundred years now, and suddenly you can fly and come back from the dead!? I want answers Parry, in plain English!” Flint looked annoyed, not leaning on the wall but instead towering slightly over Parry.
Parry shrank back as Flint got in closer. He started to reach for his pants, snagged his boxers, and slid those on hoping it’d get Flint to back off if he gave a little ground.
Nope. Flint just stood there. Waiting. Angry.
“It’s… it’s complicated,” Parry whimpered. “I mean… I’ve been around for a while Flint. A whole hell of a long time. You want it in English though? Fine.” Parry pointed a finger at his own chest. “Celestial. Layman’s terms, angel, but we don’t subscribe to that word. Has too many connotations down here. And I’m… not Fallen, just kind of AWOL at the moment. Before I died. I mean… it happened fast and I was on The Shore with Richard Pryor, the White Rabbit and Michael Jackson. There was some awesome weed and my old partner showed up and sent me back while he holds my spot on The Shore. I’m expected back by The Powers That Be after I can get out of the City.”
Flint wasn’t very well informed on a lot of things. He looked to the Wizards that looked and researched in books and found it all incredibly boring. Flint learnt magic by doing and acting, this could possibly be the reason his magic is limited in a way. It also could be why it drains him so much. Despite him not knowing much about celestials he knew their power, knew that they were not like mortals such as himself.
“I knew there was something about you that made you act like... you do. Why didn’t you tell me?” Flint asked, his stance now more relaxed as he leant back against the wall. This time he did decide to reach into his pocket and grab a flask. Gulping down some of the dark liquid.
“Because de Lacy had me,” Parry said. As if that explained everything, all in one sentence. A vampire having a hold over a being of Cosmic power. “How do you think he walked into that Disco in 74 and wasted Johnny the Rocket- that old Warlock. He got me when I came to Camden, offered me cover in exchange for my blood. He’s been milking me like a cow for over a century!
“And besides, I hate my old job. I can’t stand it! I’m supposed to be a Shepherd. I watch over the kids, keep them safe from demons. I did my job fine. But I couldn’t watch everything that happened to them after I kept the demons away. 10,000 years of letting children get sold into slavery grates on you, Flint. After a while you start to feel a little… helpless.” Parry brushed at his hair, twirling it back and forth around his forefinger. He searched for a hair loop to put it in a ponytail, then gave up.
“I wanted out. After the Children’s Crusade I wanted out bad. So I came down here. Hung up my wings and kept my sword.” Just mentioning the sword made him cringe, that dark, tainted feeling settling into Parry’s stomach, creeping up his spine. He had the urge to jump in the shower again and try to wash it off, but fought against it for the moment. “Then I just… coasted. I had fun. I lived a little. Came here. Started up the Daycare. And the rest is… it just happened, okay? Is that what you want to know?”
Flint looked at the floor, taking another swig of the bottle, he thought about what 125 years had done to him...and couldn’t imagine what 10,000 years could do to a man. He sighed his signature sigh, re-adjusting the hat on his head as he placed his flask away.
“Just keep doing what you’re doing, keep your head up and think about how you can help us solve this mess” He turned to leave “Good talk” He muttered
Parry gave Flint a sideways glance, letting him get to the door before saying “Just… gimme some time. I feel… I’m not, not clean, okay?”
Flint left for his room, passing Rikive on the way. | Name: Flint White
Age: 125 (looks mid 20's)
Gender: Male
Breed/Species/Type/Lineage: Elemental Sorcerer.
Talents:
Firearms training
Elemental magic (Controlling and conjuring of earth, fire, water, air)
Police Procedure
Detective work
Hand to Hand combat
Interrogation
Quick witted
History:
Flint was born in 1895, he led a normal life in Camden until he was conscripted into World War One. After the war, life didn't seem as precious anymore and he joined with a local mob boss. The gang told him of his magical abilities, which he had no idea he had, and began having him work for them in robberies.
His shenanigans caught the attention of the magical courts. They soon captured him and they explained the world that sat under his nose, they explained that it was magic that kept him young, that his parents had died horribly to an unknown attack. Flint was lost, and not knowing what to do he left Camden just in time for Conscription to scoop him up for World War Two.
More war and Flint was on his last thread, he returned to Camden and began Private investigation, it was ok work and helped pay for the taxes. Flint got his big break when the Court asked for him to join their police force, he accepted and soon rose the ranks to detective. Magical police work was a lot more intriguing than normal private work, and he was good at it.
Then it all went to hell.
Flint survived the first purges, but has been in hiding for awhile now. However he has begun to raise an army. A poster here, a leaflet there all signifying a meet up of those who wish to stop the current 'leader'.
Psychological Profile:
Harsh, Quick witted, scheming and cold hearted. Flint was normally one to work alone, but the new order of things means he will have to begin working with others if they are going to stop the main threat. He wont take orders from anyone, but he isn't an idiot, and can be persuaded to do things if its for the best.
He is a long standing alcoholic, and it is rare to see him without a bottle on his person, many believe his way of work is inhumane, and he prefers to act first before asking questions.
More than likely not all there in his head, due to the terrible things he has seen in and out of war.
Possessions:
.44 Magnum revolver in shoulder holster.
An array of legal and illegal weapons he keeps at his current safe house, most are pre 1950's however.
Smudge, the cat.
Yes and
Flint knew about Beth through her criminal connections, and was on her tail at every corner until she spoilt all the fun and died.
When she was placed in the court he wasn't pleased, not just because of her past crimes but also because of the moral grounds on controlling others. |
46,615 | 1,263 | 139 | 2,534 | 450 | So, I'm a leader now. Rikive thought to herself, standing up from where she sat and watched a few of the other's head into the room to 'question' the vampire. She as confident they would be able to take care it while she rested before their next move. Walking to the room where her sword and cot were, she considered the idea of approaching the Fairy Queen. She said that she didn't trust her, but she hadn't completely dismissed the idea.
Despite Karram's loyalty and protest, Rikive still doubted the Queen's trustworthiness. She had met her once and the encounter had...gone less then well, to say the least. The Queen of Fairies seemed prone to flights of fancy and other such whims. One day she may agree to help them, but the next she could bury a knife in their backs and turn them over to Nemsemet.
Or she could be allies with Nemsemet already and trying to go to her would result in their destruction. It was true that de Lacy hadn't been able to control the Fairy Court, but Nemsemet clearly didn't operate like de Lacy.
Would the benefits of an alliance outweigh the risks though? The kind of magic Fairies held was nothing to scoff at and would be immensely beneficial. But it was also why she was so wary. The Queen certainly wouldn't help them for free either.
She could hear two sets of conversation inside of the bunker, one was the interrogation of the vampire and the other sounded like it was between Flint and Parael. The conversations overlapped, making it hard for her to distinguish what was being said other than a few key words here and there. It sounded like Parael was telling Flint about his true nature as a Celestial. Nothing overtly concerning, but Parael's tone sounded off. Not surprising, she knew how Parael felt about his...retirement.
Frowning, she wondered how he was handling having his wings back. She hadn't had much of a chance to talk to him about everything that happened. Check on her friend and then she would lay down for a few hours. Rikive blinked when Flint emerged from the bathroom in front of her, flask in hand and she wanted to shake her head. She let him pass before walking up to the door and standing next to it, not wanting to go inside out of respect for Parael's privacy.
"Parael? Are you alright?" She asked, leaning her shoulder against the doorframe. | Name: Parael Magnus
Age: 777
Gender: Androgynous (often answers to male pronouns)
Breed: Retired Celestial ('Nephilim')
Physical Description: (Because I can never get pictures to work right >.< )
Parael stands just shy of 6 feet tall, near 130lbs, with long golden hair grown down to his shoulders, often done up in a ponytail. When working at his center he's dressed in ragged jeans and a clean vest with a diaper bag over his shoulder. On the streets he often wears a button up vest, while channeling his powers can reveal ethereal wings that no longer physically exist.
Talents:
Parael lost most of his Celestial powers after he retired and became Nephilim, but he has picked up a few skills here and there since becoming half human...
- Divine Light: Normally deadly and natural to a full Celestial, Parael was taught to channel Divine power through his human hands roughly 500 years ago. Through human conjuring, this power is little more than a bright and hot flare.
- Glamour: By necessity, Parael has learned to harness human illusion powers to maintain glamours around himself and his place of business, disguising himself against mortal eyes.
History:
Parael doesn't like to discuss his history from before his retirement to the human world ("I abhor getting involved with all the human dogma over whose Creator is right. You all need to stop worrying your lovely faces about that and get to the business of living!") But certain individuals believe that he was present shortly after the moment of creation, this revelation coming from nights involving too much alcohol and pillow talk- and as with all such talk, could easily be a fabrication. Whatever precipitated Parael to hang up his wings in the Middle Ages is between Parael and whatever Celestial ordered him around at the time.
After coming down to Earth in the Far East during the Middle Ages and being tutored in human culture by a Chinese dragon, Parael hitch-hiked across the silk road with a Djinni caravan, partied in Europe among the Faerie courts through the Renaissance, sailed across the Atlantic to South America to run with were-jaguars during the Age of Exploration, chillaxed in the Caribbean with wizard cabals through to the 1800s, and finally settled in New Camden during the modern era. It wasn't until settling Camden that he actually began to buy into the tributary system and managed to cultivate a number of relationships with the ruling council of the city ("'Cultivate' is such a cleaned up word, darling! I got around. A lot.")
Celestial blood is a much desired commodity in the magical world, being used for anything from spell components in Elixers of Life to psychotropic drugs for werewolves. His identity as a Celestial would be impossible to conceal forever, so Parael worked out a deal with the city's vampire leader Caradoc de Lacy to provide a certain tithe of blood every month, allowing the vampire to store and imbibe it whenever he liked- negating the deadliness of sunlight to the city's leader for a few hours at a time. Being able to surprise his foes at high noon while they plotted against him was a boon the vampire couldn't afford to pass up. Caradoc, meanwhile, protected Parael's identity as a Celestial from the general supernatural population, eliminating anyone who got too close to the truth of how he could move about during daylight hours.
This protection became doubly handy when, in the Moral Panic of the 1980s, the human city council tried to shut down Parael's daycare center under the pretense of "protecting children from the homosexual menace." Caradoc stepped up and bullied the council into keeping away, but the Celestial soon found himself in deeper debt to Caradoc for the intercession.
Caradoc's human rival, Baroness Augusta, a wizard with an arsenal of magic at her disposal, lost three magi trying to discern how Caradoc could move about seemingly at random during the day. When she discovered the existence of Parael, the two leaders called a council to discuss his presence in Camden. Parael doesn't know what accord they came to, but the inquiries from the city's wizards did stop.
To the supernatural "public" of Camden, Parael is still an eccentric magi who is good with kids and operates out of a daycare center on the East Side. Parael pays tribute by watching over the children of other paranormals, occasionally enchanting them with glamour to pass under mortal gaze when not in full control of their powers; and most importantly, by his blood tithe to the Prince ("And judging by how Baroness Augusta's wrinkled face is looking, the covens are getting a cut too. Unless that's Botox she's taking and I'm wrong.")
With the arrival of Nemsemet and the eradication of the Count and his court, Parael is feeling the pressure whether to go underground or to step up and fight. Coming out of retirement is not in the cards, as a full Celestial entering battle with Nemsemet may emerge victorious, but the clash could level the city of New Camden and everyone in it. For now his daycare center has turned into nothing less than a fortified bunker with wizards and faeries placing wards all over the grounds to protect their next generation from the wrath of Nemsemet...
Psychological Profile:
Parael is a bubbly, flirtatious individual who is absolutely enthralled with the modern mortal world. The iPhone is a greater wonder than all the stars in the sky ("Except for Orion, that sly stud!"). His identity as an ex-Celestial is a closely guarded secret however, and he is supremely sensitive to anyone bringing up the idea that he could be one.
Possessions:
Parael travels light in his day-to-day work. He always has a slick, designer diaper bag on hand from which he pulls all manner of items including toys, food, spellbooks and extra clothes. Buried beneath the floorboards in his bedroom is a dirty, dented iron longsword which he treats with all the reverence of a Colt .45 when in hand.
He does keep an enormous collection of mementos in his apartment. He still has a silk robe which he picked up from his landing in China, which he often lays about in during his off hours, a set of jeweled earrings from India during his trek across the Silk Road, a silver Fairy Sword he got from the Queen of Spring in a tournament ("I'm not bragging, but it was actually the prize in a beauty contest."), and a collection of Obsidian daggers and war clubs during his time in the South American jungles with the were-panthers ("I've yet to find better steak knives and meat tenderizers!").
Yes, and: Parael Magnus hunkered down right after the appearance of the dread Nemsemet, warding his daycare center to try and hide the fact that he was a Celestial from the enemy and providing a place of safety for anyone else who needed a way to lay low... |
46,616 | 1,263 | 140 | 2,534 | 450 | Rikive's eyes widened hearing his voice break, hearing the pain in it, just as much as the words. So the sword that she saw Parael use wasn't his. Nemsemet had Parael's real sword? This was bad, this was very bad. She took in a deep breath, collecting herself so she appeared calm and opened the bathroom door, stepping inside.
Seeing Parael scared and on the verge of tears made her heart ache. She walked over to him and crouched down next to him. She reached out and gripped his hand, squeezing it gently yet firmly. She couldn't lie to him and tell him everything would be okay. It wasn't okay.
If the enemy had Parael's sword, they had him over a barrel.
"We'll get it back." She promised him, looking up at him and smiling as best she could. She hoped they could get it back before anything was done to Parael, but she wasn't sure. If at this very moment Nemsemet or one of the people that served him had it in their possession...They might already be too late.
"I'll get it back." Rikive promised a bit more firmly, squeezing his hand. "You're my brother Parael. I'm right here with you and I'll do whatever I can to help you." | Name: Parael Magnus
Age: 777
Gender: Androgynous (often answers to male pronouns)
Breed: Retired Celestial ('Nephilim')
Physical Description: (Because I can never get pictures to work right >.< )
Parael stands just shy of 6 feet tall, near 130lbs, with long golden hair grown down to his shoulders, often done up in a ponytail. When working at his center he's dressed in ragged jeans and a clean vest with a diaper bag over his shoulder. On the streets he often wears a button up vest, while channeling his powers can reveal ethereal wings that no longer physically exist.
Talents:
Parael lost most of his Celestial powers after he retired and became Nephilim, but he has picked up a few skills here and there since becoming half human...
- Divine Light: Normally deadly and natural to a full Celestial, Parael was taught to channel Divine power through his human hands roughly 500 years ago. Through human conjuring, this power is little more than a bright and hot flare.
- Glamour: By necessity, Parael has learned to harness human illusion powers to maintain glamours around himself and his place of business, disguising himself against mortal eyes.
History:
Parael doesn't like to discuss his history from before his retirement to the human world ("I abhor getting involved with all the human dogma over whose Creator is right. You all need to stop worrying your lovely faces about that and get to the business of living!") But certain individuals believe that he was present shortly after the moment of creation, this revelation coming from nights involving too much alcohol and pillow talk- and as with all such talk, could easily be a fabrication. Whatever precipitated Parael to hang up his wings in the Middle Ages is between Parael and whatever Celestial ordered him around at the time.
After coming down to Earth in the Far East during the Middle Ages and being tutored in human culture by a Chinese dragon, Parael hitch-hiked across the silk road with a Djinni caravan, partied in Europe among the Faerie courts through the Renaissance, sailed across the Atlantic to South America to run with were-jaguars during the Age of Exploration, chillaxed in the Caribbean with wizard cabals through to the 1800s, and finally settled in New Camden during the modern era. It wasn't until settling Camden that he actually began to buy into the tributary system and managed to cultivate a number of relationships with the ruling council of the city ("'Cultivate' is such a cleaned up word, darling! I got around. A lot.")
Celestial blood is a much desired commodity in the magical world, being used for anything from spell components in Elixers of Life to psychotropic drugs for werewolves. His identity as a Celestial would be impossible to conceal forever, so Parael worked out a deal with the city's vampire leader Caradoc de Lacy to provide a certain tithe of blood every month, allowing the vampire to store and imbibe it whenever he liked- negating the deadliness of sunlight to the city's leader for a few hours at a time. Being able to surprise his foes at high noon while they plotted against him was a boon the vampire couldn't afford to pass up. Caradoc, meanwhile, protected Parael's identity as a Celestial from the general supernatural population, eliminating anyone who got too close to the truth of how he could move about during daylight hours.
This protection became doubly handy when, in the Moral Panic of the 1980s, the human city council tried to shut down Parael's daycare center under the pretense of "protecting children from the homosexual menace." Caradoc stepped up and bullied the council into keeping away, but the Celestial soon found himself in deeper debt to Caradoc for the intercession.
Caradoc's human rival, Baroness Augusta, a wizard with an arsenal of magic at her disposal, lost three magi trying to discern how Caradoc could move about seemingly at random during the day. When she discovered the existence of Parael, the two leaders called a council to discuss his presence in Camden. Parael doesn't know what accord they came to, but the inquiries from the city's wizards did stop.
To the supernatural "public" of Camden, Parael is still an eccentric magi who is good with kids and operates out of a daycare center on the East Side. Parael pays tribute by watching over the children of other paranormals, occasionally enchanting them with glamour to pass under mortal gaze when not in full control of their powers; and most importantly, by his blood tithe to the Prince ("And judging by how Baroness Augusta's wrinkled face is looking, the covens are getting a cut too. Unless that's Botox she's taking and I'm wrong.")
With the arrival of Nemsemet and the eradication of the Count and his court, Parael is feeling the pressure whether to go underground or to step up and fight. Coming out of retirement is not in the cards, as a full Celestial entering battle with Nemsemet may emerge victorious, but the clash could level the city of New Camden and everyone in it. For now his daycare center has turned into nothing less than a fortified bunker with wizards and faeries placing wards all over the grounds to protect their next generation from the wrath of Nemsemet...
Psychological Profile:
Parael is a bubbly, flirtatious individual who is absolutely enthralled with the modern mortal world. The iPhone is a greater wonder than all the stars in the sky ("Except for Orion, that sly stud!"). His identity as an ex-Celestial is a closely guarded secret however, and he is supremely sensitive to anyone bringing up the idea that he could be one.
Possessions:
Parael travels light in his day-to-day work. He always has a slick, designer diaper bag on hand from which he pulls all manner of items including toys, food, spellbooks and extra clothes. Buried beneath the floorboards in his bedroom is a dirty, dented iron longsword which he treats with all the reverence of a Colt .45 when in hand.
He does keep an enormous collection of mementos in his apartment. He still has a silk robe which he picked up from his landing in China, which he often lays about in during his off hours, a set of jeweled earrings from India during his trek across the Silk Road, a silver Fairy Sword he got from the Queen of Spring in a tournament ("I'm not bragging, but it was actually the prize in a beauty contest."), and a collection of Obsidian daggers and war clubs during his time in the South American jungles with the were-panthers ("I've yet to find better steak knives and meat tenderizers!").
Yes, and: Parael Magnus hunkered down right after the appearance of the dread Nemsemet, warding his daycare center to try and hide the fact that he was a Celestial from the enemy and providing a place of safety for anyone else who needed a way to lay low... |
46,617 | 1,263 | 141 | 781 | 162 | Rikive shot up to her feet when Parael curled in on himself as though he was in pain and started yelling at her. Something was happening, damn the heavenly realms! Someone was doing something to Parael's sword. Panic rushed through her, not sure what Parael meant by her needing to leave for her own safety.
"What's wrong?" She asked him, grabbing onto his shoulders. "Nevermind my safety, you're the one under attack! Please, tell me what's happening Parael. What in the Nine worlds are they doing to you?"
Why couldn't she have inherited better magical skills from her mother? If she had better developed magic, maybe she could have battled against whatever was happening to her friend. A human and a Light Elf have a halfling child and that mortal could wield magic and cast spells on par with their supernatural parent. They were some of the most powerful mages to walk the Earth.
Yet she was the offspring of a damned God and a Light Elf and the only magic she could cast was to heal bodily injuries. Even then there was a limit and it could be a drain on her. She had never felt so frustrated with her lack of magic until now, when her friend, someone she thought of as a brother, was clearly suffering in front of her and she couldn't do a thing to stop it.
It brought forth the fresh memory of watching Parael die under her hands. She could almost feel the warm, slick substance of his blood on her hands again.
She caught herself before she tightened her grip on Parael and took in a deep breath. She may not have magic, but she did have her strength. She had Winterthorn. There was magic in that stubborn, dusty old blade, she knew there was. She was going to unlock it if it was the last thing she did. | Name: Kaori Lyle
Age: 42 (Appears Early 20’s)
Gender: Female
Breed/Species/Type/Lineage: Vampire
Talents:
- Immortality
- Enhanced strength and agility
- Enhanced Senses
- Healing
- Experienced with firearms and blades
- Vulnerabilities: fire, sunlight, decapitation, and stakes
History: During the Vietnam War, Kaori’s father (American) met her mother while deployed. As the war came to an end, the two were married. He moved his new wife back to the United States where Kaori would be born and raised.
In the aftershock of the war, Kaori and her mother suffered mild discrimination. However, it was the emotional trauma suffered by her father that began the family’s decent into poverty. To cope with his PTSD, her father became heavily dependent on alcohol and struggled to provide for his family. Although her mother tried, the stigma surrounding her heritage and her own ignorance of American ways made it very difficult for her to earn any type of substantial income.
In her teenage years, Kaori turned to illegal activity to help her family survive. She began in petty theft, and eventually branched out to drug distribution. She continued this line of ‘work’ into her early adult years, until one risky deal went poorly and nearly cost Kaori her life and lead to her ‘change’ into vampirism by a being with a similar heritage to her own. While the first year of her vampirism was difficult, her mentor provided guidance to help Kaori to use her new talents to enhance her old life. She quickly sharpened her skills, and became a sought after ally in criminal circles.
Her talents earned her enough money to support her parents until their eventual death, after which she relocated and eventually settled in New Camden. She now occupies an elegant loft apartment and loans her skills to the highest bidder. Although she has done jobs for members of the council, she did not work for them exclusively.
Over the years, she has had few valuable relationships and friendships as they typically end poorly or in violence.
Psychological Profile: Due to the nature of her work, Kaori doesn’t exactly hold to any strong morals. However, she has common sense enough to think carefully through her actions so as not to compromise herself or the supernatural community. While she isn’t opposed to taking a life, she also doesn’t murder recklessly as she resents the notion of being little more than an animal. Because she came to the country feeling like an outsider, she’s always been a bit of a loner and doesn’t confide much in other people. A very deeply buried part of herself aches over her constant loneliness, but it’s unlikely that anyone would ever get close enough to her to discover this weakness. Also, Kaori has grown to admire fine things and detests the notion of poverty.
Possessions:
-Vietnamese kimonos/robes inherited from her late mother
-A small arsenal of firearms
-Collection of valuable blades from different areas of asia
Yes, and:Kaori crossed paths with Gray Conover one dark night when she was fulfilling a request given to her by the council. When she arrived, she found her prey being hunted by an unlikely predator. From the smell of his blood, Kaori suspected he was human. She lurked in the shadows until the job was done, studying the brave human's methods...and memorizing his scent. |
46,618 | 1,263 | 142 | 2,377 | 482 | With the instatement of Rikive as their for-the-time-being "leader" -- Beth was not exactly fond of the term, she had to steel her tongue just to say it -- the question arose as to who would rule the Court if by some miracle they deposed Nemsemet. On the slim chance they did succeed, opportunities came in abundance for each of them. But Beth, as soon as her mind began to wander, cast the thoughts of such things out, at least until their efforts proved useful.
She stood tense behind the hunter in the interrogation room. She didn't need a body to feel the unease that shifted through the room at Gray's words. Something about him, aside from his occupation, disagreed with her. Whatever it was would have to be dealt with another time; they needed answers. Beth despised feeling empty-handed. Her best work required information, even the slightest tid-bit helped form a plan of action. As of this moment, she faced a blank canvas.
Beth glanced at the doorway when she heard Parael's distant shouts, narrowing her eyes until Flint left and she saw Rikive pass on her way to follow.
Parry wasn't one to cry into his pillow after a few verbal beat downs. Whatever summoned his panic came from somewhere, or something unknown... But that didn't put out the small pyre of guilt burning in the back of Beth's mind, should she have contributing to worsening whatever he was going through.
Flint knew him well, and Rikive might be some sort of best friend to him, they'd deal with it.
Turning back to the matter at hand, Beth stepped up next to the hunter, eyes pinned on the vampire. "Look, kid. We don't want you here any more than you want to be here... as over-used as that is... and this trigger-happy moron will shoot you full of holes if you don't give us a reason not to. So let's make this simple and quick. What do you know about Rikker's dealings with Nemsemet?" | Name: Rikive Heimdalsdóttir
Age: ?
Gender: Female
Breed/Species/Type/Lineage: Deity
Physical Description:
Talents:-Hand to hand combat (including 'god like' speed and strength)
-Extraordinary eyesight (in light or dark), heightened hearing and extremely high endurance
-Healing magic
History:Rikive is the daughter of the God Heimdall and an elven maiden named, Alfrún. She spent most of her life in Asgard, in the hall of her father. She had always been curious about Midgard, but finally came to the mortal realm due to the encouragement of her father.
When she came to Midgard she did not know nor understanding the rules of how the supernatural were to interact with human society. For the most part she had done well adjusting to modern life, it wasn’t the first time a god had gone to Midgard to pretend to be human. She had picked up on certain social norms, but some had escaped her notice. She had learned rather harshly that duels of honor were not accepted anymore.
One unfortunate encounter with a particularly obnoxious man, he lost one hand and she was the one arrested.
That one incident and she found herself in debt to the system set up to keep order with supernatural beings. Some had told her to merely run and return to Asgard, but she stubbornly denied such an idea. She would repay her debt as she was honor bound to do.
A few times she had been tempted to make the debt dwindle a little faster using...less than savory means. She was strong and skilled, certain operations would have paid her a lot of money to provide them with protection. However she always refused, it wasn’t right.
Psychological Profile:Quiet, reflective, and idealistic. Interested in serving humanity. Well-developed value system, which she strives to live in accordance with. Extremely loyal. Adaptable and laid-back unless something she holds in high regard is challenged. Mentally quick, and able to see possibilities. Interested in understanding and helping people.
Possessions:-Winterthorn an enchanted blade, it's powers/abilities:
- Sheath transforms into a viking round shield
Yes, and:When Rikive first arrived to Camden and she was still adjusting to modern human society, she met Parael by chance. He proved to be a great teacher (in his own fun, flamboyant manner), helping her to adapt to Midgard as it is now and she considers him a good friend. She is currently helping him by standing as protection and keeping watch for his daycare center. |
46,619 | 1,263 | 143 | 1,650 | 715 | This chick really had it in for him. She was as insulting as they came. Though, how could he really blame her. The place was a regular menagerie and apparently she was the star attraction. The most insulting was what she said after labeling him food. "This city doesn't need a mortal to save it, especially one that doesn't know what he's dealing with." She was dead wrong. Nothing ticked him off more than underestimating the underdog. He held his peace just to let her finish. "Don't you realize your own people don't even trust you? Why would I trust you with my name?" She had a fair point with that last one.
Just as Gray was ready to retort Beth interrupted the scene. You could say she 'stepped' up to them except she didn't make noise and he could swear she never touched the ground. Her voice was airless and hollow. The best you could do without lungs. "Look, kid. We don't want you to be here any more than you want to be here... as overused as that is... and this trigger-happy moron will shoot you full of holes if you don't give us a reason not to. So let's make this simple and quick. What do you know about Rikker's dealing with Nemsemet?"
"I take offense to that." Gray responded quickly. "And I already shot her full of holes! Look where that got us!" Gray stood up from the chair. The desire to make this situation work gently was being dwarfed by the lack of respect he was receiving. "This vamp has the best point I've heard in a while. Why don't I just leave? You monsters'd be able to get by just fine fighting a war with each other! You'd fight to the point where the government figures out what's going on and smears you off the map. Just like EVERY damn time there's a supernatural uprising!" He finally gave pause. This was certainly a moment that he felt very clear on his intention and emotions.
"Yes, I'm mortal. It's my advantage against all you prideful pricks. I get to see the beautiful sunrise. I get to feel the world as God intended. And now I get to fight like David and Goliath every time I hunt. The Goliath in town is Nemsemet. He's dangerous, true. Yet we have the knowledge that he died. That means we can kill him again." Gray finally turns his attention to their bound guest. "If you want to save anything dear that you have left around here then you MUST help us stop him. Despite what most of these cursed individuals think I'm not here to rip things apart."
Damn monsters and their predisposition against hunters. Some of the best hunters out there ARE monsters. | Name: Gray Conover
Age: 31
Gender: Male
Species: Human
Physical Description:
Gray stands at 5'11. He is broad-shouldered and lanky, his advantage against his enemies is obviously not brute strength yet he has exercised thoroughly to try to make up some of the difference if he ever has to get that close. He has a long face and a pointed chin and hazel eyes, characteristics that seems to run in his family. His hair color is dark brown and he has mutton chops and doesn't bother to manage his hair so it stands pretty unkempt. He keeps it just short enough in the front that it won't become a problem in combat.
Talents:
Creative Combatant - Gray is a very experienced killer and it comes mainly from his ability to think on his feet and react quickly. Even without weapons on his person he can figure out ways to kill something by using his environment and playing dirty. He certainly doesn't hold back on the playing dirty part which might irk off those noble vampires or whatever the hell else thinks they have some kind of fair fighting spirit in combat. It's always life or death and Gray doesn't plan on being the one dying.
Broad Monster Knowledge - Gray knows how to kill all the common creeps. Werewolves, vampires, zombies(Those are the easy ones), etc. It comes from a personal history of doing just that. If he can't kill it he'll get away and study for some way to do so. After all, his hefty pay check rides on this important task.
Extensive Arms Experience - Gray is both a military veteran and an arms enthusiast. As such he has both experience and extensive practice with firearms. Having talent and practice make him a very accurate shot with long weapons in particular.
History:
Killing monsters runs in the family and family is what really matters. Gray grew up with values, often unapparent to others, that keep him from going too far in the field. He grew up with several brothers and a sister and for the earliest part of his life had no idea what his family really did. They sheltered him from it until he was ready to know the truth. That truth didn't come until it was nearly too late.
Gray joined the military. He was in the army on tour in the middle east when he encountered his first taste of the supernatural world. They seemed like normal middle-eastern villagers. Lured into their village on their patrol, Gray's team didn't pose a very good chance. They had the resilience and constitution of ghouls. Meaning they wouldn't go down without a good headshot or leg shot. Most of his team was felled by their inhuman stamina with mere farm tools. Their adversary was quick and dangerous but he had and the remainder of his squad had the resolve to survive. It wasn't until later that he understood what they were. They weren't undead. They were the "blessed warriors" of a demonic duke known as Abigor that had been piggybacking on wars and feeding off of them since iron was used as a weapon. It made sense why he'd be making his rounds in the most war torn nation in the world.
On his return to the States Gray reunited with his family. Upon hearing his experience they began to explain to him the finer parts of their history. The Conover's have been killing monsters for nearly two-hundred years. Gray had a legacy he was willing to uphold.
Unfortunately that legacy was difficult to acquire with the councils of creatures banded together throughout the world. With the councils keeping everything in check his family didn't indulge in hunting so much anymore. The councils were a necessary evil but they were still monsters and Gray couldn't personally trust them to keep things steady. He needed a group that would let him bypass getting a hit on his head by an organization that vastly overpowered him. It took a while and he took up jobs killing rogue beasts in the process which the council overlooked because of the nature of the cases. He wasn't that good at first. Not many people are. The evil monsters that let themselves be tracked by an amateur are generally the easiest to kill. Gray had mistakes and near-death experiences but his resolve and ingenuity always had the tendency to save him.
When you're feeling hand over hand through the dark you always find something.
Psychological Profile: Gray seems to be morally ambiguous to people who don't know him. To those who do, they see the bold line he won't cross. If a creature isn't a killer and has no potential to be he won't take its life. He sees many jobs he's taken as necessary evil to protect humanity. Overall he views himself as a protector, but damn if he doesn't like a good paycheck.
Gray loves humor in all its forms. He'd be pretty depressing if he couldn't take a good joke every now and then. Even if it's completely misplaced and awkward.
Possessions:
Gray has two large suitcases that are normally too heavy for normal airport admittance. One stores his set of armor. The armor is customizable on the job with many spots for Kevlar inserts, a bite guard, a helmet and a few other minor items to help him adapt to circumstances. Teeth, claws or (preferably not) bullets. He's got something to give him some edge.
Aside from a few spots in the first suitcase for some Glocks and ammunition (Affordability, you lose guns a lot when you're hunting.) he has saved room in his other suitcase for a few sets of street clothes(primarily gray t-shirts, blue jeans and a black jacket) and a compartment for his modified AA12 with silver slugs in three drum magazines. Either crammed in this case or in a car he keeps an Ares 16 with a variety of attachments for use as a long-to-mid range rifle and a grenade launcher(For that beasty who just doesn't want to go down).
Gray wears a small titanium chain around his neck that has several items dangling from it. A small pot-like skull about the size of a thumb that has dried herbs in it, consisting primarily of wolf's bane to ward off a werewolf's ability to smell him. A small alienish shell filled with holes is also affixed to it. This shell happens to be the only item he has that is magic and he only uses it as a last chance item. Thankfully he's only ever used it once before. He isn't quite sure if it has lasting consequences but man does it become handy in a bind. By saying a set of keywords the artifact teleports him an indeterminate distance away to a random location(or whatever location it wants him at, he really has no idea if it has its own agenda. Eerie). The last item dangling from his chain is a simple Celtic cross because it's cool.
A useful item that is never far from his reach is his trusty silver kukri knife.
Yes, and:
Arachne, a master of information has a real talent for finding what she needs and hiding what should stay hidden. Well, Arachne found Gray Conover. A relatively easy, if a little volatile, person to manipulate and point at targets. Contracting Gray for missions with a high paycheck is really quite easy to do. |
46,620 | 1,263 | 144 | 2,356 | 5,042 | Well this was turning out to be more interesting than anticipated. Looking at the group Autumn wondered how they would take Grey's shot at them. Though he wasn't wrong about what could happen should Nemsemet not be stopped in time. "He's right you know. So far the mummy doesn't seem to care much about exposure. Eventually when he starts coming out into the light then people that the outside will notice missing will be stuck in here with the rest of us. Spook enough humans with the big guns and there is a high chance that none of us will get out of this alive. The window of opportunity is sliding shut every moment we waste." She thought about mentioning that Beth would be alright but she was technically already dead so her words still fit. | Name: Claudia Laurel
Age: 23 (Physically) 62 (In reality)
Gender: Female
Breed/Species/Type/Lineage: Half-Demon
Physical Description:
Talents:
-Using Firearms
-Hand to hand combat
-Stalking/Sneaking
-Controlling fire
-Parkour
-Faster Healing
History:
Claudia was born in 1953, into a prominent family of demons due to an affair between a demon woman and a human. Her family had wealth, power, and most important of all, reputation. Her birth was not wanted by the elders, seeing as her parents were both young, and the fact that Claudia was a half-demon, which were considered disgraces and looked down upon. Claudia's grandfather, Harriet Laurel, decided that Claudia and her father were to be executed. Claudia's mother didn't want this, and helped her daughter disappear, along with Claudia's father. They began a new life (on earth) in America as James Williams and his young daughter, Claudia Williams.
Two years later, Her father was drafted into the Vietnam war at the age of twenty. Claudia was sent to live with her aunt in Virginia, and spent the next twenty years staying there, waiting for her father to return. He never did. Her family was informed of his death, and Claudia received his possessions. In a trunk was a stack of letters, mostly love letters between her mother and father. After digging through the trunk and reading the old letters, she came upon addressed to her, from her parents. The letter told her all about her heritage and why she didn't have a mother with her.Claudia had hoped to get in touch with them, but was not able to enter their world and when summoned, they rejected her because she was a 'Halfling'.
Left with no where to go, she wandered until one she walked in on two people fighting. One pulled out a gun to shoot the other, and Claudia threw the nearest thing she could find at the man, which happened to her shoe. The man ran off not wanting to be seen, and the other, Tom, introduced himself. The two became quick friends, both having no where to go. They lived off the streets, and eventually joined a gang. The two became tangled in a web of crimes and violence, and Tom decide that they needed to learn to defend themselves. They became more active in the gang learning from the other members how to fight, and later how to kill. Claudia and Tom advanced from just people taken under their wing to some of the most able members.
Eventually the gang was busted, and Claudia escaped with Tom. They moved to New Camden, and decided to try to lay low. It didn't work out, as they were in desperate need of money, and Claudia ended up taking jobs which weren't quite legal. She eventually got arrested for vehicular manslaughter, of all things. She was sentenced to five years in prison. When she was let out on probation, she discovered that Tom had passed away. With nothing left, Claudia became a servant for a supernatural household in the court. When Nemsemet took over, her master was killed, along with his family. Claudia was given two choices. Join his side or die. She did what she thought every sane person would have done, and chose not to die. She needed the money anyway. She now works as a servant/hitman for Nemsemet, and though she may not like it, money always comes first. And her dog.
Psychological Profile:
Due to her history, Claudia is very pessimistic. She doesn't believe in the whole 'heart of gold' thing, and distrusts everyone around her. She doesn't like to show emotion, believing they are weaknesses. She believes that the court and the wealthy families in New Camden are all corrupt, but also thinks that Nemsemet is the same.
Claudia has two 'modes', in place of emotions. There's stoic and uncaring, and then theres angry. When taking out targets, she remains cold and collected, but her anger can be triggered easily; she is sensitive about her family, and will physically harm anyone who insults her parents. She is also angered by the social hierarchy of fullbloods and halfbloods. Although she is willing to kill in cold blood, she is not merciless. She prefers to take people out quickly and painlessly, and if you give her good reason not to do something, she'll listen to you. Although it's hard to get her to trust you, if she believes in your cause then she will remain loyal.
Possessions:
A silver ring, which hides her identity as a supernatural creature, given to her by her mother. Two handguns, Several knives, and a sniper rifle. Has extras at her 'home', which is actually an abandoned building. A large husky she adopted off the streets. The closest thing she's ever had to a familiar.
Yes, and:
Claudia met Karram when she was sent to court for vehicular manslaughter. He was one of the people who helped get her a shortened sentence. She has mixed feelings about him. On one hand, he shortened her punishment, on the other hand, he still sent her to prison.
Now though, they're going to meet under much different circumstances. Karram is one of the people she has been requested to kill, so thats awkward.
(I didn't really know what to do here ^, so it can be changed.) |
46,621 | 1,263 | 145 | 2,246 | 3,527 | Flint returned to the small room he had procured in the bunker, the single bed neatly tucked and set. Smudge the cat lay peacefully on the grey sheets and seemed to have gotten used to her surroundings, her bowl of water was empty however so Flint was quick to solve that problem.
Thinking back to what Parry had said, Flint couldn’t believe that he had been lied too, he had known the man so long and yet he didn’t trust him with his secret? Never mind that he was an enforcer, and should have had him on record as a celestial. I guess that might have been the reason for the lies. Flint was pretty good at finding and cataloguing.
He needed to get back to the group, maybe see if they had got anywhere with the vampire. With a sigh he got up, beginning to nonchalantly walk to the ‘interrogation room’. When he finally got there he knocked lightly on the door.
“Am I interrupting?” He asked as he entered
“Or do I need to show you how a police officer gets information out of someone?”
With the last question he clicked his fingers into a flame, then began to concentrate to make the flame hotter, and hotter until it was a blue sliver no bigger than a pin. He then lit a cigarette with it and extinguished it just as fast as he had created the bunsen like fire, apparently pretending to be unaware of the connotations he had just shown. | Name: Flint White
Age: 125 (looks mid 20's)
Gender: Male
Breed/Species/Type/Lineage: Elemental Sorcerer.
Talents:
Firearms training
Elemental magic (Controlling and conjuring of earth, fire, water, air)
Police Procedure
Detective work
Hand to Hand combat
Interrogation
Quick witted
History:
Flint was born in 1895, he led a normal life in Camden until he was conscripted into World War One. After the war, life didn't seem as precious anymore and he joined with a local mob boss. The gang told him of his magical abilities, which he had no idea he had, and began having him work for them in robberies.
His shenanigans caught the attention of the magical courts. They soon captured him and they explained the world that sat under his nose, they explained that it was magic that kept him young, that his parents had died horribly to an unknown attack. Flint was lost, and not knowing what to do he left Camden just in time for Conscription to scoop him up for World War Two.
More war and Flint was on his last thread, he returned to Camden and began Private investigation, it was ok work and helped pay for the taxes. Flint got his big break when the Court asked for him to join their police force, he accepted and soon rose the ranks to detective. Magical police work was a lot more intriguing than normal private work, and he was good at it.
Then it all went to hell.
Flint survived the first purges, but has been in hiding for awhile now. However he has begun to raise an army. A poster here, a leaflet there all signifying a meet up of those who wish to stop the current 'leader'.
Psychological Profile:
Harsh, Quick witted, scheming and cold hearted. Flint was normally one to work alone, but the new order of things means he will have to begin working with others if they are going to stop the main threat. He wont take orders from anyone, but he isn't an idiot, and can be persuaded to do things if its for the best.
He is a long standing alcoholic, and it is rare to see him without a bottle on his person, many believe his way of work is inhumane, and he prefers to act first before asking questions.
More than likely not all there in his head, due to the terrible things he has seen in and out of war.
Possessions:
.44 Magnum revolver in shoulder holster.
An array of legal and illegal weapons he keeps at his current safe house, most are pre 1950's however.
Smudge, the cat.
Yes and
Flint knew about Beth through her criminal connections, and was on her tail at every corner until she spoilt all the fun and died.
When she was placed in the court he wasn't pleased, not just because of her past crimes but also because of the moral grounds on controlling others. |
46,622 | 1,263 | 146 | 1,012 | 4,032 | We don't know what Nemsemet's strategy is, but we do know that everyone on his side are the ones against the court. I mean, let's take a quick look at us. Two court investigators, one lycan that wanted nothing to do with that shit prior to the whole thing, one...uh, whatever the fuck he is that stays out of things, and bosslady here who definitely doesn't like the exposure. But you know, Nemsemet's ancient, bad news sure, but he's also way behind the times. Does he have any idea what modern artillery is like? What a nuclear weapon even looks like? I mean, look at what happened to werefolk when they started chambering silver rounds, like what Hunter here has.
Sore point with lycanthropes -- their day had set already and they'd been set behind the curve by modern technology and human society, ill suited to either. Sure, they could do more, but their weakness was out there, easily identified and simple to exploit. They were taken down quickly.
"I'm no fan of the Court. It was archaic and based on who owed a few obligation; in this case, the Nicholson and de Lacy clans and all the other damn nobles, but the rationale was solid. One of him," he jerked at thumb at Gray, "is bad. An entire military supported by research and development...do the math vampire. How long you think you last when they start putting a silver bullet every second round on the belt and an incendiary on every third? Maybe some cold iron for the faeries. How long do you think our kind lasts? Yeah, one hunter you can kill in a lot of ways, but what happens when humanity comes in numbers?"
Tony's luck was that he'd seen a real war; so had Flint, but Flint didn't seem to process it the same way, the adaptability of humanity, the way the tech was evolving so damn fast and the secrecy...well, Nemsemet was ancient. In a day and age when metal forging was barely being discovered, when mud brick was the dominant building material, when most humans lived and died in short, brutish lives, illiterate and often dead in their thirties of some disease, if they survived childhood. Now technology unlocked the birthrate and the killing capabilities of humanity. Most supernaturals didn't grasp it; hell, lycanthropes wouldn't except the had time, particularly since the genesis of the firearm, to really brood about it.
Lycanthropes were, in a sense, creatures of an animal nature ill at ease with the humanity of it, and that was the underlying tension that fueled their abilities, but they were also the first supernaturals to really be left behind by modernity. The hunters usually went after vampires, but had a much harder time spotting them. Lycanthropes were not subtle and once identified, easily if they exposed themselves, they were relatively simple to cut down with modern munitions. Gray's shotgun was a mute testament to it. They optimal load wasn't even what you'd kill a deer with.
--
The March thorugh Georgia was a bloody path of plunder and devastation -- Seccessionists took a shot at the 1st Tennessee Volunteers, they'd burn the house the shot came from, and what they couldn't plunder and carry, they destroyed. It would ensure a cruel season of famine for the South, but it was the necessary methods to bring the war to a swifter end, or so was the opinion of one William Tecumseh Sherman.
War was cruelty, and it was time to slake the Confederate thirst for more war. Sherman saw the heart of it-- the Southern industrial capacity was exposed; they were already cut off by a naval blockade with little in the way of recourse and much of their industrial capability was concentrated into the cities; Charleston, Savannah, Atlanta. It wasn't like the North; the South had fertile soil and lots of cheap labor, as opposed to the mineral resources of the North and less than ideal soil conditions that made them such early and fervent adopters of industrial production, much as the English had. The South were much like the French the old families sprung from, preferring pastoral systems and a fertile properties that produced farm goods.
Other Union officers had their moral qualms about it; he considered it the whirlwind the Confederacy reaped when they killed his brother, Douglas Augustus Gordon, good old Gus, in Cumberland, around the time of the secession, because he'd refused to turn over his property to the Confederates. They'd burned the horse farm as an object lesson to others in the area with union sympathies -- to acclaim.
Now Charles Niall Gordon was a lieutenant in the cavalry, a West Point trained warrior with the battles of Cumberland and Shiloh under his belt and he relished the chance to visit on the Confederates the vengeance they so richly deserved. The Confederates had started this fight, but Gordon, like Sherman, who'd he'd been aide to when the campaign was planned, intended to finish it. The Confederates were tenacious, lions in battle, but they were hanging on by a thread. Their lands, untouched, continued to supply them with the meager essentials of fighting a war. They'd fought the battles in mostly Union and border territory -- Maryland, Pennsylvania, the massacres in Kansas, the bloody battles of Shiloh and Chattanooga in his own home state -- and forced the depredations of the war on the Union's civilians, for the most part.
The Deep South, the wellspring of Confederate sentiment, had not particularly suffered, except that the ladies made do without their imported pins and silk. Uncle Billy Sherman changed that. He brought the torch to the cotton fields, to these soft plantation wives and the men who'd sent their sons to bleed and die in other mens' back yards, while blathering away in their slurred voices about states rights, going on about their Huguenot French ancestry and aping the ways of the aristocrats that had died in the guillotines of the last century. These were the most fervent supporters of the Confederacy, these plantations, and the source of their leadership. This was a blow to their fortunes, which was really, to the mind of Gordon, what the Confederacy was about. Burn the cotton, destroy the manors, send the slaves packing to wherever they might go -- he cared not a whit.
He rode, and in his wake was flame, smoke and the lamentation of some plantation owner's wife, bemoaning her fate and cursing the men that did it. He turned back and affixed her with a steely blue eye, a sort of fierce moustachio'd visage that the Scots and the Scots-Irish, with their blonde-red hair and freckled, fair-skinned looks seemed to be able to gather up, that held little pity. He was of a mountain people, who held grudges and settled accounts in blood. The Confederacy killed his kith and kin, and this was merely due compensation. But he wasn't entirely bereft of the rudiments of civilization, though it burned all around him, "Madam," he told her, imperiously astride his bay gelding, one hand gloved and holding the reins, the other resting on the handle of his pistol, a Colt Dragoon. He surveyed the devastation with a deep feeling of personal serenity, his voice distant even as he tilted the brim of his hat to her, "A good day to you." He wanted to tell her to curse Jefferson Davis and curse the war, but not to curse the bearer of the tidings. She wouldn't understand. Few did. To advance civilization, you had to teach people, by direct experience, the alternative.
--
There were flashes of the other memories; the taste of blood in the mouth, a particularly savored meal, the thrill of the sort of work he did over the years for the Courts, forcing tribes of indigenous supernatural beings to accept the Courts dictates. He applied the strategies of Uncle Billy and George Custer and Philip Sheridan with an unflinching determination, happily leveraging the technology and adapting it to the enemy.
Then the connection abruptly severed as Gordon took his finger off the sword.
"There is a connection," he told Anastasia, "and I saw what you saw. I think he saw things as well. Is there something you might do with it?"
"Yes," the haughtily beautiful woman told him, even as she adjusted her scarf, removing it from around her throat and picking the blade up with it, so as to prevent skin contact, "there is much we can do with this, though we should not touch it again, lest he pick up upon our realization. There are rituals..." | Name: Antonio Victor Barnes
Age: 65
Gender: Male
Breed/Species/Type/Lineage: Lycanthrope; were-lion.
Talents:- Beastman form; deadly and effective, but terrifying and very, very, very obvious. It is a combination of a Lion's instincts and muscle density and natural equipment with the upright stature of a human being and a degree of their thought processes melded with the instinct of the animal. It is monstrous and the reason the legends exist.
- Full African lion form - like the cat. Not nearly as useful as, say, a wolf form that could be written off as a dog.
- Fast-healing in man-beast. In other forms, he takes damage normally.
- If hit with anything silver, he is immediately shifted back into normal human form. Also, if a silver bullet is in him, he is unable to shift.
- Rage; in enough pain, he'll see red and there is the potential to start killing indiscriminately to escape this. On the other hand, he's had years to learn how to control this.
- As the moon cycles, his abilities wax and wane; at full moon, he has a hard time controlling said abilities. Nearer the new moon, he finds it requires an extra degree of effort to use his abilities and he tends to tire out easier.
- Even as a human, he has increased senses that allows him to detect things with his nose; for example, sweat and various other secretions, and where they are emotionally based on that. It's a combination of animal magnetism and animal instinct.
History:Antonio Victor Barnes was born to a Afro-Cuban mother and a half-white father in New Camden, in the Dorset neighborhood, which was once home to the Cardinal's Point General Motors factory. His father, Joe, had a good job there, though he worked very hard for it. He'd come to Camden from Virginia. His mother had very little to say about the country she left or the circumstances back there.
In 1967 Uncle Sam decided to draft Antonio into the Vietnam War. He arrived in December of 1967 and saw service right as the Tet Offensive started up in February of 1968. He served in the 9th Infantry Division in the Mekong Delta, fighting near the Cambodian border. Serving as a cherry (replacement) in his new platoon, he served for five months of his tour, watching guys get blown up by booby traps, wounded by mortar fire, shot by Cong and NVA and otherwise chopped up in a futile-seeming war in the jungle; waist deep in the muck of the Mekong Delta. His battalion suffered repeated Viet Cong and NLF/PAVN attacks one night and the next put his company out on the outpost line, which was then overrun by a particularly savage attack by the Vietnamese. Terrified, with his squad dying and dead around him in the jungle night, he changed into the man-beast form and mauled a number of VC and NVA regulars, even as the A-6 Intruders dropped napalm and cluster bombs all over the jungle when the company CO called down the strikes inside his box, on top of the heads of friendlies.
His position took a hit, but he survived, to the astonishment of the reinforcements combing over the battlefield, policing up the weapons and the mauled bodies; the Vietnamese were dumped into a mass grave, the Americans taken to graves registration. But no one could figure up what tore up all these people -- some of the bodies were ripped to shreds.
"Shrapnel, napalm, fuckit," they said.
Barnes was MIA.
He spent time in the jungle, hunting, killing and learning his abilities, and eventually had a sense of how to control them enough to shift back to human form and find help. During that time, the legends were rife in VI Corps and Viet Cong alike of a killer tiger running about in the Delta, a huge, dangerous beast. So it was considered a miracle when he finally was found by the Army; presumed to have escaped POW captivity among the Viet Cong as well as the man-eater of the Mekong, he was evacuated out and then honorably discharged at the end of his draft service in Fort Polk.
His return to the World, coincided with the start of economic hard times in Camden, especially as Cardinal's Point started to lay people off and he flirted around with various dissident movements like the Black Panthers and other organizations that were concerned with the plight of the black man in America, especially after Vietnam. Every full moon, there was the potential for devastation and destruction, and he isolated himself to keep from having another situation where he killed people indiscriminately.
He bummed around the country and, ironically, ran into the Courts in New Orleans of all places, where the supernatural are able to move about a little more freely, and the mortals know a little more than they ought to. His girlfriend at the time, Marie, a Creole, introduced him to the Courts and the supernatural community, though she was somewhat shaky on how things worked because she wasn't entirely clued in, but steered him to people who definitely were.
He learned that he wasn't alone, wasn't the only one and there was a world out there with laws...and that if his black ass felt discriminated against before, wait until he met the Nobles of the courts.
New Orleans wasn't the worst place to lay up and learn things, the Court there was not one of the worst and he used his GI benefits to enroll in Tulane University, where he majored in social work, and carried that into a Master's in Business Administration while working in social work all over the State of Louisiana, where it was needed.
In the course of time, he returned to Camden when his father got sick to help take care of his parents, sometime in the early 1980's, and found that that Camden was as economically depressed as New Orleans. He quickly got to work with local activists and other like minded folk and started trying to find ways to work the system and rebuild the thriving middle class neighborhood he lived in, even as yuppie white fuckers exported all the jobs to places like China, and, ironically, Vietnam.
Fast forward decades later, and Antonio still looks rather young (magical energy tends to sustain a longer lifespan anyway) and has no idea how long his life is going to be, but he's spent a lot of it building the Horizon Foundation, a large not-for-profit that is devoted to preserving New Camden's cultural history and finding new ways to turn old buildings into something profitable within the community as well as retraining and employing locals, particularly out of economically depressed areas like his native Dorset. He paid his tithe, avoided Court politics and was trying to do something good with his life when Nemsemet came to town.
Not liking the injustice of the Court, he didn't really care what Nemsemet did to the likes of Caradoc de Lacy. The only problem is, of course, that Nemsemet is a crazy motherfucker and he's not stopping there. . He's also rallied a lot of lycanthropes to the cause, men and women that are a lot less controlled than Antonio is, raised in clans together that distrust the outside world and are indoctrinated against normal humanity. It's understandable, they've been hunted, persecuted and have lived on the margins. Antonio has some sway with them, in that they are not enthusiastically hunting one of their own, but they aren't listening when he tries to rally these various lycanthrope clans.
Nemsemet is bad news. Now he's on the run like a lot of other people.
Psychological Profile:Deep down, Barnes is still guilty about what he did in Vietnam, flying off the handle, killing a bunch of people indiscriminately. While time has healed some of it, he left the 'Nam resolved to do something worthy and good with the rest of his life, and got into the nitty gritty of social work and entepreneurial neighborhood development. He's always been careful to avoid getting overly involved in Court politics. The Court, so long as one pays tithe and avoids breaking the Concealment Edict, really doesn't care.
On the other hand, the injustice of the Court rankles Antonio, and he's happy to see it gone. But he has a regard for human life that most lycanthropes don't, and is one of the few standing against Nemsemet.
Possessions:A nice house, inherited from his deceased parents that isn't really safe to stay in any more. He's socked away money wisely invested, as well as his considerable salary as the CEO of Horizon. He has a particularly nice 1969 Pontiac Firebird and a shotgun at home that, quite frankly, he doesn't use.
He has a nice cell phone though and some authentic Vietnamese Buddhist prayer beads he picked up in the 1990's when he travelled back to 'Nam to make his peace with the past. They have supernatural significance that he doesn't really understand.
Yes, and: ...Flint and Antonio had a run-in in 1987 or so, when Flint suspected Antonio in a grisly series of murders that involved the consumption of corpses after digging into his Vietnam War history. Antonio was charged by the court, though his innocence was proven when the murders continued with him in custody. Flint and Antonio worked together grudgingly to catch the werewolf family responsible for it, but there's no love lost there. |
46,623 | 1,263 | 147 | 2,534 | 450 | Parry squeezed his eyes shut, his breathing hitching as the memories poured into him. Fire and death. That was what followed the bearer of his sword, everywhere he went. The man (definitely a man, he'd picked up on that much) was an efficient and calculating warrior, not shirking from brutality if it was required. Not ancient like Nemsemet, but definitely old.
As far as Parry could tell, the vision he'd thrown through the connection of the plagued city was either ignored or accepted as fact. One way or another, the bearer of his sword didn't care a whit about that sight. It was an everyday occurrence to him- a drop in the metaphysical bucket. Shit like that happened every day in the real world, so why would he care?
The thought, the memory, came clear as day at the end. Transmitted like a line of text over the internet. And then Parry had a name to put on the dark soul that kept laying hands on him. Charles Gordon.
And just like that, the dark presence in his core retreated and vanished, leaving Parry curled up on the toilet with Rikive's hands on his shoulders, his face wet with his own tears while he couldn't get enough air in his own lungs.
"They're playing with it," Parry said, gritting his teeth as he hugged himself harder. "Studying it. I don't- I don't know what he's going to do with it, but they know what they have. Charles Gordon knows what he has." | Name: Parael Magnus
Age: 777
Gender: Androgynous (often answers to male pronouns)
Breed: Retired Celestial ('Nephilim')
Physical Description: (Because I can never get pictures to work right >.< )
Parael stands just shy of 6 feet tall, near 130lbs, with long golden hair grown down to his shoulders, often done up in a ponytail. When working at his center he's dressed in ragged jeans and a clean vest with a diaper bag over his shoulder. On the streets he often wears a button up vest, while channeling his powers can reveal ethereal wings that no longer physically exist.
Talents:
Parael lost most of his Celestial powers after he retired and became Nephilim, but he has picked up a few skills here and there since becoming half human...
- Divine Light: Normally deadly and natural to a full Celestial, Parael was taught to channel Divine power through his human hands roughly 500 years ago. Through human conjuring, this power is little more than a bright and hot flare.
- Glamour: By necessity, Parael has learned to harness human illusion powers to maintain glamours around himself and his place of business, disguising himself against mortal eyes.
History:
Parael doesn't like to discuss his history from before his retirement to the human world ("I abhor getting involved with all the human dogma over whose Creator is right. You all need to stop worrying your lovely faces about that and get to the business of living!") But certain individuals believe that he was present shortly after the moment of creation, this revelation coming from nights involving too much alcohol and pillow talk- and as with all such talk, could easily be a fabrication. Whatever precipitated Parael to hang up his wings in the Middle Ages is between Parael and whatever Celestial ordered him around at the time.
After coming down to Earth in the Far East during the Middle Ages and being tutored in human culture by a Chinese dragon, Parael hitch-hiked across the silk road with a Djinni caravan, partied in Europe among the Faerie courts through the Renaissance, sailed across the Atlantic to South America to run with were-jaguars during the Age of Exploration, chillaxed in the Caribbean with wizard cabals through to the 1800s, and finally settled in New Camden during the modern era. It wasn't until settling Camden that he actually began to buy into the tributary system and managed to cultivate a number of relationships with the ruling council of the city ("'Cultivate' is such a cleaned up word, darling! I got around. A lot.")
Celestial blood is a much desired commodity in the magical world, being used for anything from spell components in Elixers of Life to psychotropic drugs for werewolves. His identity as a Celestial would be impossible to conceal forever, so Parael worked out a deal with the city's vampire leader Caradoc de Lacy to provide a certain tithe of blood every month, allowing the vampire to store and imbibe it whenever he liked- negating the deadliness of sunlight to the city's leader for a few hours at a time. Being able to surprise his foes at high noon while they plotted against him was a boon the vampire couldn't afford to pass up. Caradoc, meanwhile, protected Parael's identity as a Celestial from the general supernatural population, eliminating anyone who got too close to the truth of how he could move about during daylight hours.
This protection became doubly handy when, in the Moral Panic of the 1980s, the human city council tried to shut down Parael's daycare center under the pretense of "protecting children from the homosexual menace." Caradoc stepped up and bullied the council into keeping away, but the Celestial soon found himself in deeper debt to Caradoc for the intercession.
Caradoc's human rival, Baroness Augusta, a wizard with an arsenal of magic at her disposal, lost three magi trying to discern how Caradoc could move about seemingly at random during the day. When she discovered the existence of Parael, the two leaders called a council to discuss his presence in Camden. Parael doesn't know what accord they came to, but the inquiries from the city's wizards did stop.
To the supernatural "public" of Camden, Parael is still an eccentric magi who is good with kids and operates out of a daycare center on the East Side. Parael pays tribute by watching over the children of other paranormals, occasionally enchanting them with glamour to pass under mortal gaze when not in full control of their powers; and most importantly, by his blood tithe to the Prince ("And judging by how Baroness Augusta's wrinkled face is looking, the covens are getting a cut too. Unless that's Botox she's taking and I'm wrong.")
With the arrival of Nemsemet and the eradication of the Count and his court, Parael is feeling the pressure whether to go underground or to step up and fight. Coming out of retirement is not in the cards, as a full Celestial entering battle with Nemsemet may emerge victorious, but the clash could level the city of New Camden and everyone in it. For now his daycare center has turned into nothing less than a fortified bunker with wizards and faeries placing wards all over the grounds to protect their next generation from the wrath of Nemsemet...
Psychological Profile:
Parael is a bubbly, flirtatious individual who is absolutely enthralled with the modern mortal world. The iPhone is a greater wonder than all the stars in the sky ("Except for Orion, that sly stud!"). His identity as an ex-Celestial is a closely guarded secret however, and he is supremely sensitive to anyone bringing up the idea that he could be one.
Possessions:
Parael travels light in his day-to-day work. He always has a slick, designer diaper bag on hand from which he pulls all manner of items including toys, food, spellbooks and extra clothes. Buried beneath the floorboards in his bedroom is a dirty, dented iron longsword which he treats with all the reverence of a Colt .45 when in hand.
He does keep an enormous collection of mementos in his apartment. He still has a silk robe which he picked up from his landing in China, which he often lays about in during his off hours, a set of jeweled earrings from India during his trek across the Silk Road, a silver Fairy Sword he got from the Queen of Spring in a tournament ("I'm not bragging, but it was actually the prize in a beauty contest."), and a collection of Obsidian daggers and war clubs during his time in the South American jungles with the were-panthers ("I've yet to find better steak knives and meat tenderizers!").
Yes, and: Parael Magnus hunkered down right after the appearance of the dread Nemsemet, warding his daycare center to try and hide the fact that he was a Celestial from the enemy and providing a place of safety for anyone else who needed a way to lay low... |
46,624 | 1,263 | 148 | 1,012 | 4,032 | Rikive scowled and let go of Parael's shoulders to run her hands through her drying hair. Charles Gordon, the name didn't ring any bells for her but maybe Beth knew who he was? She seemed to have a knack for collecting information from what Parael has mentioned about her.
"Parael, I want you to take deep breaths." She advised him, placing one hand back on his shoulder and looking toward the door of the bathroom. "We have a name. That's good, that's really good. If we have a name then we can find out more about this man and get the sword back." Before anything was done to Parael? She didn't know. But it was something.
"Just, try to remain calm." She grimaced. That was like asking the rain to fall upwards. "I'm going to go get Beth and ask her what she knows about this Gordon." She crouched again so she was at eye level with him. "Deep breaths, brother. Deep breaths." She wrapped her arms around him in a strong embrace before letting go and standing back up.
Hesitantly she left the bathroom and went in search of Beth. It wasn't hard to find her as it seemed everyone else was crowded in the room with their 'guest'. Good, if she tried to break out there was more than enough muscle in that room to either keep her contained or kill her.
Rikive entered into the room, looking around for a moment at the mismatched and thrown together group. It still had not quite sunk in that she was the leader of these people. "Beth." She called out and made a motion with her hand for the ghost to come with her. "I need to borrow you for a moment." She said, stepping out of the doorway and back into the hall to wait for her. | Name: Antonio Victor Barnes
Age: 65
Gender: Male
Breed/Species/Type/Lineage: Lycanthrope; were-lion.
Talents:- Beastman form; deadly and effective, but terrifying and very, very, very obvious. It is a combination of a Lion's instincts and muscle density and natural equipment with the upright stature of a human being and a degree of their thought processes melded with the instinct of the animal. It is monstrous and the reason the legends exist.
- Full African lion form - like the cat. Not nearly as useful as, say, a wolf form that could be written off as a dog.
- Fast-healing in man-beast. In other forms, he takes damage normally.
- If hit with anything silver, he is immediately shifted back into normal human form. Also, if a silver bullet is in him, he is unable to shift.
- Rage; in enough pain, he'll see red and there is the potential to start killing indiscriminately to escape this. On the other hand, he's had years to learn how to control this.
- As the moon cycles, his abilities wax and wane; at full moon, he has a hard time controlling said abilities. Nearer the new moon, he finds it requires an extra degree of effort to use his abilities and he tends to tire out easier.
- Even as a human, he has increased senses that allows him to detect things with his nose; for example, sweat and various other secretions, and where they are emotionally based on that. It's a combination of animal magnetism and animal instinct.
History:Antonio Victor Barnes was born to a Afro-Cuban mother and a half-white father in New Camden, in the Dorset neighborhood, which was once home to the Cardinal's Point General Motors factory. His father, Joe, had a good job there, though he worked very hard for it. He'd come to Camden from Virginia. His mother had very little to say about the country she left or the circumstances back there.
In 1967 Uncle Sam decided to draft Antonio into the Vietnam War. He arrived in December of 1967 and saw service right as the Tet Offensive started up in February of 1968. He served in the 9th Infantry Division in the Mekong Delta, fighting near the Cambodian border. Serving as a cherry (replacement) in his new platoon, he served for five months of his tour, watching guys get blown up by booby traps, wounded by mortar fire, shot by Cong and NVA and otherwise chopped up in a futile-seeming war in the jungle; waist deep in the muck of the Mekong Delta. His battalion suffered repeated Viet Cong and NLF/PAVN attacks one night and the next put his company out on the outpost line, which was then overrun by a particularly savage attack by the Vietnamese. Terrified, with his squad dying and dead around him in the jungle night, he changed into the man-beast form and mauled a number of VC and NVA regulars, even as the A-6 Intruders dropped napalm and cluster bombs all over the jungle when the company CO called down the strikes inside his box, on top of the heads of friendlies.
His position took a hit, but he survived, to the astonishment of the reinforcements combing over the battlefield, policing up the weapons and the mauled bodies; the Vietnamese were dumped into a mass grave, the Americans taken to graves registration. But no one could figure up what tore up all these people -- some of the bodies were ripped to shreds.
"Shrapnel, napalm, fuckit," they said.
Barnes was MIA.
He spent time in the jungle, hunting, killing and learning his abilities, and eventually had a sense of how to control them enough to shift back to human form and find help. During that time, the legends were rife in VI Corps and Viet Cong alike of a killer tiger running about in the Delta, a huge, dangerous beast. So it was considered a miracle when he finally was found by the Army; presumed to have escaped POW captivity among the Viet Cong as well as the man-eater of the Mekong, he was evacuated out and then honorably discharged at the end of his draft service in Fort Polk.
His return to the World, coincided with the start of economic hard times in Camden, especially as Cardinal's Point started to lay people off and he flirted around with various dissident movements like the Black Panthers and other organizations that were concerned with the plight of the black man in America, especially after Vietnam. Every full moon, there was the potential for devastation and destruction, and he isolated himself to keep from having another situation where he killed people indiscriminately.
He bummed around the country and, ironically, ran into the Courts in New Orleans of all places, where the supernatural are able to move about a little more freely, and the mortals know a little more than they ought to. His girlfriend at the time, Marie, a Creole, introduced him to the Courts and the supernatural community, though she was somewhat shaky on how things worked because she wasn't entirely clued in, but steered him to people who definitely were.
He learned that he wasn't alone, wasn't the only one and there was a world out there with laws...and that if his black ass felt discriminated against before, wait until he met the Nobles of the courts.
New Orleans wasn't the worst place to lay up and learn things, the Court there was not one of the worst and he used his GI benefits to enroll in Tulane University, where he majored in social work, and carried that into a Master's in Business Administration while working in social work all over the State of Louisiana, where it was needed.
In the course of time, he returned to Camden when his father got sick to help take care of his parents, sometime in the early 1980's, and found that that Camden was as economically depressed as New Orleans. He quickly got to work with local activists and other like minded folk and started trying to find ways to work the system and rebuild the thriving middle class neighborhood he lived in, even as yuppie white fuckers exported all the jobs to places like China, and, ironically, Vietnam.
Fast forward decades later, and Antonio still looks rather young (magical energy tends to sustain a longer lifespan anyway) and has no idea how long his life is going to be, but he's spent a lot of it building the Horizon Foundation, a large not-for-profit that is devoted to preserving New Camden's cultural history and finding new ways to turn old buildings into something profitable within the community as well as retraining and employing locals, particularly out of economically depressed areas like his native Dorset. He paid his tithe, avoided Court politics and was trying to do something good with his life when Nemsemet came to town.
Not liking the injustice of the Court, he didn't really care what Nemsemet did to the likes of Caradoc de Lacy. The only problem is, of course, that Nemsemet is a crazy motherfucker and he's not stopping there. . He's also rallied a lot of lycanthropes to the cause, men and women that are a lot less controlled than Antonio is, raised in clans together that distrust the outside world and are indoctrinated against normal humanity. It's understandable, they've been hunted, persecuted and have lived on the margins. Antonio has some sway with them, in that they are not enthusiastically hunting one of their own, but they aren't listening when he tries to rally these various lycanthrope clans.
Nemsemet is bad news. Now he's on the run like a lot of other people.
Psychological Profile:Deep down, Barnes is still guilty about what he did in Vietnam, flying off the handle, killing a bunch of people indiscriminately. While time has healed some of it, he left the 'Nam resolved to do something worthy and good with the rest of his life, and got into the nitty gritty of social work and entepreneurial neighborhood development. He's always been careful to avoid getting overly involved in Court politics. The Court, so long as one pays tithe and avoids breaking the Concealment Edict, really doesn't care.
On the other hand, the injustice of the Court rankles Antonio, and he's happy to see it gone. But he has a regard for human life that most lycanthropes don't, and is one of the few standing against Nemsemet.
Possessions:A nice house, inherited from his deceased parents that isn't really safe to stay in any more. He's socked away money wisely invested, as well as his considerable salary as the CEO of Horizon. He has a particularly nice 1969 Pontiac Firebird and a shotgun at home that, quite frankly, he doesn't use.
He has a nice cell phone though and some authentic Vietnamese Buddhist prayer beads he picked up in the 1990's when he travelled back to 'Nam to make his peace with the past. They have supernatural significance that he doesn't really understand.
Yes, and: ...Flint and Antonio had a run-in in 1987 or so, when Flint suspected Antonio in a grisly series of murders that involved the consumption of corpses after digging into his Vietnam War history. Antonio was charged by the court, though his innocence was proven when the murders continued with him in custody. Flint and Antonio worked together grudgingly to catch the werewolf family responsible for it, but there's no love lost there. |
46,625 | 1,263 | 149 | 781 | 162 | Once the discussion had finally fell silent, Kaori lowered her eyes, contemplating. Voices had come at her from each side. Minus a few threats that she didn't respond well to, she couldn't deny the logic of the arguments that came from Gray, the nameless brunette, and the one whom she had come to identify as the lycan. Well, all but that last bit he had so cattily thrown in.
Immediately, she wanted to disregard the lycan, with his fowl breath and wild animal smell. But, she had to admit that such thoughts pertaining to the fate of the supernaturals had occurred to her in the past. Were they doomed under Nemsemet's leadership? Of course. She had known this from the beginning. He would lead the city of supernaturals to their destruction. She had laid low in the wake of his terror, unwilling to accept their fate, but knowing it was inevitable. No one would be foolish enough to oppose him, would they?
And here was a group of random beings thrown together, stepping on each others toes, trying to find a way.
She took a breath, preparing to speak, not completely sure of what was going to come out when she heard a distant voice in the silence. "...they know what they have. Charles Gordon knows what he has."
Charles Gordon. She seemed to turn inside herself as she weighed the implications of that name. It had been a long time since she'd heard it.
"You kicked the hornets nest," she finally mumbled in that youthful, soprano voice. "Fine. If I decide to help you, we have to agree on a few things." She stood to her feet here, surprisingly graceful for someone with her hands tied behind her back. The wound in her chest, though sore, had finally stopped bleeding. Her arms tensed, and in the next moments there was a stretch, and then the snap of rope behind her back. She brought her arms to the front of her body, casually rubbing at the spot where her pale flesh had been reddened by her bounds.
"First of all, if you want my help, stop threatening me. It's putting me in a really foul mood, and I already don't like most of you." Her eyes shifted to the direction of the lycan and rolled away in irritation, "Second, you don't ask for my name. I can't be sure that anyone knows I'm here right now, and I don't want to be on their hit-list if and when this thing goes south. And finally..." She gave a quick glance over her attire with a wearied sigh, bloodied and torn from battle with these beasts, "You let me shower."
She paused, placing her hands on her hips and looking over the pairs of eyes that were staring back at her, "Agreed?" | Name: Kaori Lyle
Age: 42 (Appears Early 20’s)
Gender: Female
Breed/Species/Type/Lineage: Vampire
Talents:
- Immortality
- Enhanced strength and agility
- Enhanced Senses
- Healing
- Experienced with firearms and blades
- Vulnerabilities: fire, sunlight, decapitation, and stakes
History: During the Vietnam War, Kaori’s father (American) met her mother while deployed. As the war came to an end, the two were married. He moved his new wife back to the United States where Kaori would be born and raised.
In the aftershock of the war, Kaori and her mother suffered mild discrimination. However, it was the emotional trauma suffered by her father that began the family’s decent into poverty. To cope with his PTSD, her father became heavily dependent on alcohol and struggled to provide for his family. Although her mother tried, the stigma surrounding her heritage and her own ignorance of American ways made it very difficult for her to earn any type of substantial income.
In her teenage years, Kaori turned to illegal activity to help her family survive. She began in petty theft, and eventually branched out to drug distribution. She continued this line of ‘work’ into her early adult years, until one risky deal went poorly and nearly cost Kaori her life and lead to her ‘change’ into vampirism by a being with a similar heritage to her own. While the first year of her vampirism was difficult, her mentor provided guidance to help Kaori to use her new talents to enhance her old life. She quickly sharpened her skills, and became a sought after ally in criminal circles.
Her talents earned her enough money to support her parents until their eventual death, after which she relocated and eventually settled in New Camden. She now occupies an elegant loft apartment and loans her skills to the highest bidder. Although she has done jobs for members of the council, she did not work for them exclusively.
Over the years, she has had few valuable relationships and friendships as they typically end poorly or in violence.
Psychological Profile: Due to the nature of her work, Kaori doesn’t exactly hold to any strong morals. However, she has common sense enough to think carefully through her actions so as not to compromise herself or the supernatural community. While she isn’t opposed to taking a life, she also doesn’t murder recklessly as she resents the notion of being little more than an animal. Because she came to the country feeling like an outsider, she’s always been a bit of a loner and doesn’t confide much in other people. A very deeply buried part of herself aches over her constant loneliness, but it’s unlikely that anyone would ever get close enough to her to discover this weakness. Also, Kaori has grown to admire fine things and detests the notion of poverty.
Possessions:
-Vietnamese kimonos/robes inherited from her late mother
-A small arsenal of firearms
-Collection of valuable blades from different areas of asia
Yes, and:Kaori crossed paths with Gray Conover one dark night when she was fulfilling a request given to her by the council. When she arrived, she found her prey being hunted by an unlikely predator. From the smell of his blood, Kaori suspected he was human. She lurked in the shadows until the job was done, studying the brave human's methods...and memorizing his scent. |
46,626 | 1,263 | 150 | 2,534 | 450 | Parry gave Rikive a hug back, steadying his breathing as best he could after that burst of memory from Charles Gordon. It was quickly apparent to him that any memories he could hit Charles with, Charles packed an equal punch to throw back with the caveat that the vampiric sociopath didn't give a flying shit about. Parry could show him the extinction of a dozen cities and it would be no skin off that man's nose.
Meanwhile, Parry would have to sit there and take it if Charles decided to send any more delightful memories through the sword.
After Rikive left, Parry took a second to gather up his emotions and thoughts, along with his clothes. The absence of Charles' tainted fingers on his sword didn't change the fact that Parry felt his soul was forever dirtied by it. Sooner or later, Charles or his associate would lay hands on the sword again and the feeling would return. Parry would have to live with it. Just like he would have to live with whatever they did with the weapon.
Like that image he had of the sword- his sword- slicing through Billy Rikker's spine like a knife through water.
When he followed Rikive down the hall of the bunker and into the "interrogation room" where their vampire was being held, Parry had his hair in a ponytail, his skin still scrubbed red and smelling of expensive melon soap, and his jeans and Gucci shirt were horribly damp.
"Shower's free," he said to the vampire. "And news flash to the group. Charles Gordon used my personal sword to kill Billy Rikker. Whoever the fuck Charles Gordon is." | Name: Parael Magnus
Age: 777
Gender: Androgynous (often answers to male pronouns)
Breed: Retired Celestial ('Nephilim')
Physical Description: (Because I can never get pictures to work right >.< )
Parael stands just shy of 6 feet tall, near 130lbs, with long golden hair grown down to his shoulders, often done up in a ponytail. When working at his center he's dressed in ragged jeans and a clean vest with a diaper bag over his shoulder. On the streets he often wears a button up vest, while channeling his powers can reveal ethereal wings that no longer physically exist.
Talents:
Parael lost most of his Celestial powers after he retired and became Nephilim, but he has picked up a few skills here and there since becoming half human...
- Divine Light: Normally deadly and natural to a full Celestial, Parael was taught to channel Divine power through his human hands roughly 500 years ago. Through human conjuring, this power is little more than a bright and hot flare.
- Glamour: By necessity, Parael has learned to harness human illusion powers to maintain glamours around himself and his place of business, disguising himself against mortal eyes.
History:
Parael doesn't like to discuss his history from before his retirement to the human world ("I abhor getting involved with all the human dogma over whose Creator is right. You all need to stop worrying your lovely faces about that and get to the business of living!") But certain individuals believe that he was present shortly after the moment of creation, this revelation coming from nights involving too much alcohol and pillow talk- and as with all such talk, could easily be a fabrication. Whatever precipitated Parael to hang up his wings in the Middle Ages is between Parael and whatever Celestial ordered him around at the time.
After coming down to Earth in the Far East during the Middle Ages and being tutored in human culture by a Chinese dragon, Parael hitch-hiked across the silk road with a Djinni caravan, partied in Europe among the Faerie courts through the Renaissance, sailed across the Atlantic to South America to run with were-jaguars during the Age of Exploration, chillaxed in the Caribbean with wizard cabals through to the 1800s, and finally settled in New Camden during the modern era. It wasn't until settling Camden that he actually began to buy into the tributary system and managed to cultivate a number of relationships with the ruling council of the city ("'Cultivate' is such a cleaned up word, darling! I got around. A lot.")
Celestial blood is a much desired commodity in the magical world, being used for anything from spell components in Elixers of Life to psychotropic drugs for werewolves. His identity as a Celestial would be impossible to conceal forever, so Parael worked out a deal with the city's vampire leader Caradoc de Lacy to provide a certain tithe of blood every month, allowing the vampire to store and imbibe it whenever he liked- negating the deadliness of sunlight to the city's leader for a few hours at a time. Being able to surprise his foes at high noon while they plotted against him was a boon the vampire couldn't afford to pass up. Caradoc, meanwhile, protected Parael's identity as a Celestial from the general supernatural population, eliminating anyone who got too close to the truth of how he could move about during daylight hours.
This protection became doubly handy when, in the Moral Panic of the 1980s, the human city council tried to shut down Parael's daycare center under the pretense of "protecting children from the homosexual menace." Caradoc stepped up and bullied the council into keeping away, but the Celestial soon found himself in deeper debt to Caradoc for the intercession.
Caradoc's human rival, Baroness Augusta, a wizard with an arsenal of magic at her disposal, lost three magi trying to discern how Caradoc could move about seemingly at random during the day. When she discovered the existence of Parael, the two leaders called a council to discuss his presence in Camden. Parael doesn't know what accord they came to, but the inquiries from the city's wizards did stop.
To the supernatural "public" of Camden, Parael is still an eccentric magi who is good with kids and operates out of a daycare center on the East Side. Parael pays tribute by watching over the children of other paranormals, occasionally enchanting them with glamour to pass under mortal gaze when not in full control of their powers; and most importantly, by his blood tithe to the Prince ("And judging by how Baroness Augusta's wrinkled face is looking, the covens are getting a cut too. Unless that's Botox she's taking and I'm wrong.")
With the arrival of Nemsemet and the eradication of the Count and his court, Parael is feeling the pressure whether to go underground or to step up and fight. Coming out of retirement is not in the cards, as a full Celestial entering battle with Nemsemet may emerge victorious, but the clash could level the city of New Camden and everyone in it. For now his daycare center has turned into nothing less than a fortified bunker with wizards and faeries placing wards all over the grounds to protect their next generation from the wrath of Nemsemet...
Psychological Profile:
Parael is a bubbly, flirtatious individual who is absolutely enthralled with the modern mortal world. The iPhone is a greater wonder than all the stars in the sky ("Except for Orion, that sly stud!"). His identity as an ex-Celestial is a closely guarded secret however, and he is supremely sensitive to anyone bringing up the idea that he could be one.
Possessions:
Parael travels light in his day-to-day work. He always has a slick, designer diaper bag on hand from which he pulls all manner of items including toys, food, spellbooks and extra clothes. Buried beneath the floorboards in his bedroom is a dirty, dented iron longsword which he treats with all the reverence of a Colt .45 when in hand.
He does keep an enormous collection of mementos in his apartment. He still has a silk robe which he picked up from his landing in China, which he often lays about in during his off hours, a set of jeweled earrings from India during his trek across the Silk Road, a silver Fairy Sword he got from the Queen of Spring in a tournament ("I'm not bragging, but it was actually the prize in a beauty contest."), and a collection of Obsidian daggers and war clubs during his time in the South American jungles with the were-panthers ("I've yet to find better steak knives and meat tenderizers!").
Yes, and: Parael Magnus hunkered down right after the appearance of the dread Nemsemet, warding his daycare center to try and hide the fact that he was a Celestial from the enemy and providing a place of safety for anyone else who needed a way to lay low... |
46,627 | 1,263 | 151 | 2,377 | 482 | Beth rolled her eyes again. "Yes, I agree, why don't you just leave?" she replied, visibly sizing up the hunter. In spite of his help in capturing the vampire, Beth would feel infinitely more comfortable without him present. The man vanquished people like each of those in the bunker on the regular, and beside that, she did not appreciate his attitude. "We're not savages," she said, straightening her back. "We can keep this from the outside eye. You certainly aren't going to do a better job."
She shook her head and turned to the vampire. "Can you believe him?"
Circling the room at a languid pace, she continued her observations of its inhabitants. She held herself in check, and such a thing took strength, when Autumn spoke. "In case you haven't noticed, I'm already dead," would not be met well, and nor would it help their cause. So Beth kept quiet, even when Flint returned; she could trust Tony to say what she was thinking.
And just as their captive seemed ready to cooperate, the girl changed. Her stature altered in the slightest of manners, in a way only someone paying close attention would notice. It was a quarter inch movement of the shoulders, or a tilt of the head just so.
Beth lifted her head a fraction when the sound of strong, determined footfalls carried through the bunker. Reluctantly, she pulled her eyes away from the vampire upon hearing her name. She gave the Asgardian a nod, then slowly followed her into the hall. Even as she walked some few feet from the doorway, she could hear the vampire's words. For a moment, a small smile played on the ghost's ethereal face. The girl positively vibrated with information... and a quiet tenacity Beth respected.
She regarded Rikive, but before she could question anything, Parael sailed by them and into the room. His voice was clear when he spoke, very little trace of the screaming they'd heard earlier, and so the name reached her in full. Charles Gordon.
The name set in motion a visceral recollection of shared memories that left her feeling defiled, in the same way someone marching on her grave might. The hive-mind of memories among the undead opened itself to individuals without prompting and whenever it pleased, and Beth had yet to meet any ghost with the ability to choose what they saw. She picked up the nauseating scene of a massacre of Cheyenne hundreds of years ago, where Charles Gordon fought and killed under another's command, a long time ago in conversation with an old ghost who provided her with the odd lesson on burials and ancient magic. Experiencing it again worsened the feeling.
"He's at least two hundred years old," she announced, standing in the doorway. "And experienced in war. He fought to kill Native Americans, one battle I can verify, the rest, I'm guessing he didn't join in just for the one go at it." She crossed her arms, frowning. "Anyone else like to share?" | Name: Rikive Heimdalsdóttir
Age: ?
Gender: Female
Breed/Species/Type/Lineage: Deity
Physical Description:
Talents:-Hand to hand combat (including 'god like' speed and strength)
-Extraordinary eyesight (in light or dark), heightened hearing and extremely high endurance
-Healing magic
History:Rikive is the daughter of the God Heimdall and an elven maiden named, Alfrún. She spent most of her life in Asgard, in the hall of her father. She had always been curious about Midgard, but finally came to the mortal realm due to the encouragement of her father.
When she came to Midgard she did not know nor understanding the rules of how the supernatural were to interact with human society. For the most part she had done well adjusting to modern life, it wasn’t the first time a god had gone to Midgard to pretend to be human. She had picked up on certain social norms, but some had escaped her notice. She had learned rather harshly that duels of honor were not accepted anymore.
One unfortunate encounter with a particularly obnoxious man, he lost one hand and she was the one arrested.
That one incident and she found herself in debt to the system set up to keep order with supernatural beings. Some had told her to merely run and return to Asgard, but she stubbornly denied such an idea. She would repay her debt as she was honor bound to do.
A few times she had been tempted to make the debt dwindle a little faster using...less than savory means. She was strong and skilled, certain operations would have paid her a lot of money to provide them with protection. However she always refused, it wasn’t right.
Psychological Profile:Quiet, reflective, and idealistic. Interested in serving humanity. Well-developed value system, which she strives to live in accordance with. Extremely loyal. Adaptable and laid-back unless something she holds in high regard is challenged. Mentally quick, and able to see possibilities. Interested in understanding and helping people.
Possessions:-Winterthorn an enchanted blade, it's powers/abilities:
- Sheath transforms into a viking round shield
Yes, and:When Rikive first arrived to Camden and she was still adjusting to modern human society, she met Parael by chance. He proved to be a great teacher (in his own fun, flamboyant manner), helping her to adapt to Midgard as it is now and she considers him a good friend. She is currently helping him by standing as protection and keeping watch for his daycare center. |
46,628 | 1,263 | 152 | 1,650 | 715 | For the record; I haven't threatened you since you woke up. Gray smirked at their suddenly privileged guest.
"Yes, I agree, why don't you just leave?" Beth suggest.
"Yeah I think I will." Gray responded. His eyes narrowed in a scowl at the ghost. For someone with a weight lighter than air she certainly liked to throw it around. A heavy sigh escaped his mask as he left the room. He stayed just long enough to catch what the vampire shared. What was the point? In this zoo Gray felt like the star attraction because he was simply human. At the lone room in the end of the hall he took a seat on a crate. This was one of the store rooms and was just as good as any other unoccupied room to fume in.
Sleeping here would be dangerous. The vampire that had just tried to eat him only hours earlier would now be walking around. Gray leaned back against the wall and yawned. The sun would be up really soon. It would be a good time to take Beth's suggestion and do something while everyone else did what they always did so well. Hide. | Name: Gray Conover
Age: 31
Gender: Male
Species: Human
Physical Description:
Gray stands at 5'11. He is broad-shouldered and lanky, his advantage against his enemies is obviously not brute strength yet he has exercised thoroughly to try to make up some of the difference if he ever has to get that close. He has a long face and a pointed chin and hazel eyes, characteristics that seems to run in his family. His hair color is dark brown and he has mutton chops and doesn't bother to manage his hair so it stands pretty unkempt. He keeps it just short enough in the front that it won't become a problem in combat.
Talents:
Creative Combatant - Gray is a very experienced killer and it comes mainly from his ability to think on his feet and react quickly. Even without weapons on his person he can figure out ways to kill something by using his environment and playing dirty. He certainly doesn't hold back on the playing dirty part which might irk off those noble vampires or whatever the hell else thinks they have some kind of fair fighting spirit in combat. It's always life or death and Gray doesn't plan on being the one dying.
Broad Monster Knowledge - Gray knows how to kill all the common creeps. Werewolves, vampires, zombies(Those are the easy ones), etc. It comes from a personal history of doing just that. If he can't kill it he'll get away and study for some way to do so. After all, his hefty pay check rides on this important task.
Extensive Arms Experience - Gray is both a military veteran and an arms enthusiast. As such he has both experience and extensive practice with firearms. Having talent and practice make him a very accurate shot with long weapons in particular.
History:
Killing monsters runs in the family and family is what really matters. Gray grew up with values, often unapparent to others, that keep him from going too far in the field. He grew up with several brothers and a sister and for the earliest part of his life had no idea what his family really did. They sheltered him from it until he was ready to know the truth. That truth didn't come until it was nearly too late.
Gray joined the military. He was in the army on tour in the middle east when he encountered his first taste of the supernatural world. They seemed like normal middle-eastern villagers. Lured into their village on their patrol, Gray's team didn't pose a very good chance. They had the resilience and constitution of ghouls. Meaning they wouldn't go down without a good headshot or leg shot. Most of his team was felled by their inhuman stamina with mere farm tools. Their adversary was quick and dangerous but he had and the remainder of his squad had the resolve to survive. It wasn't until later that he understood what they were. They weren't undead. They were the "blessed warriors" of a demonic duke known as Abigor that had been piggybacking on wars and feeding off of them since iron was used as a weapon. It made sense why he'd be making his rounds in the most war torn nation in the world.
On his return to the States Gray reunited with his family. Upon hearing his experience they began to explain to him the finer parts of their history. The Conover's have been killing monsters for nearly two-hundred years. Gray had a legacy he was willing to uphold.
Unfortunately that legacy was difficult to acquire with the councils of creatures banded together throughout the world. With the councils keeping everything in check his family didn't indulge in hunting so much anymore. The councils were a necessary evil but they were still monsters and Gray couldn't personally trust them to keep things steady. He needed a group that would let him bypass getting a hit on his head by an organization that vastly overpowered him. It took a while and he took up jobs killing rogue beasts in the process which the council overlooked because of the nature of the cases. He wasn't that good at first. Not many people are. The evil monsters that let themselves be tracked by an amateur are generally the easiest to kill. Gray had mistakes and near-death experiences but his resolve and ingenuity always had the tendency to save him.
When you're feeling hand over hand through the dark you always find something.
Psychological Profile: Gray seems to be morally ambiguous to people who don't know him. To those who do, they see the bold line he won't cross. If a creature isn't a killer and has no potential to be he won't take its life. He sees many jobs he's taken as necessary evil to protect humanity. Overall he views himself as a protector, but damn if he doesn't like a good paycheck.
Gray loves humor in all its forms. He'd be pretty depressing if he couldn't take a good joke every now and then. Even if it's completely misplaced and awkward.
Possessions:
Gray has two large suitcases that are normally too heavy for normal airport admittance. One stores his set of armor. The armor is customizable on the job with many spots for Kevlar inserts, a bite guard, a helmet and a few other minor items to help him adapt to circumstances. Teeth, claws or (preferably not) bullets. He's got something to give him some edge.
Aside from a few spots in the first suitcase for some Glocks and ammunition (Affordability, you lose guns a lot when you're hunting.) he has saved room in his other suitcase for a few sets of street clothes(primarily gray t-shirts, blue jeans and a black jacket) and a compartment for his modified AA12 with silver slugs in three drum magazines. Either crammed in this case or in a car he keeps an Ares 16 with a variety of attachments for use as a long-to-mid range rifle and a grenade launcher(For that beasty who just doesn't want to go down).
Gray wears a small titanium chain around his neck that has several items dangling from it. A small pot-like skull about the size of a thumb that has dried herbs in it, consisting primarily of wolf's bane to ward off a werewolf's ability to smell him. A small alienish shell filled with holes is also affixed to it. This shell happens to be the only item he has that is magic and he only uses it as a last chance item. Thankfully he's only ever used it once before. He isn't quite sure if it has lasting consequences but man does it become handy in a bind. By saying a set of keywords the artifact teleports him an indeterminate distance away to a random location(or whatever location it wants him at, he really has no idea if it has its own agenda. Eerie). The last item dangling from his chain is a simple Celtic cross because it's cool.
A useful item that is never far from his reach is his trusty silver kukri knife.
Yes, and:
Arachne, a master of information has a real talent for finding what she needs and hiding what should stay hidden. Well, Arachne found Gray Conover. A relatively easy, if a little volatile, person to manipulate and point at targets. Contracting Gray for missions with a high paycheck is really quite easy to do. |
46,629 | 1,263 | 153 | 781 | 162 | Kaori observed the banter between the hunter and the ghostly girl with mild amusement. “For the record; I haven’t threatened you since you woke up,” Gray directed at her from behind the oddly comical mask. She didn’t need to see his face to know he was probably smirking, she could sense that in his voice.
The faintest trace of a smile crept onto her pink lips. This chase would be thrilling. It would be a shame when it came to a close, and the hunter’s life ended. Briefly, she fantasized about the possibility of savoring his life, keeping him in her service. Something about that picture seemed wrong, though. She had never been a fan of the mindless company of thralls. Would his blood taste as sweet if he couldn’t defend himself? No, his life would come to a dramatic, climax of an ending, and it would be all the more satisfying because of its ferocity.
Beth’s words pulled her from her daydream like a bucket of ice water, "Can you believe him?" Something about her opposition to Gray sparked a flame of possessiveness in Kaori – an animal protective of its kill.
She took the words "Shower's free," as the groups concession to her conditions.
Rather than dwell here, and divulge sensitive information to a risky, rag-tag group of desperate supernatural beings, Kaori wanted to sprint from the room in the direction of the shower. She was a lone-wolf by nature. It was natural to prefer her privacy as she recovered. The cleansing touch of water would wash away the red soaked into her skin and matted in her midnight hair. She would be strong and radiant when she emerged, her most comfortable state.
But instead, she resigned to her task when Beth piped up again, "Anyone else like to share?" Kaori looked out into many a pair of eyes that watched her expectantly, as if she were a goose about to lay a golden egg.
She perched on the edge of a small table near the corner of the room, her leather-clad legs crossing one over the other. She didn't want to display it, but she was still feeling rather weak, and the breaking of her bounds had cost more of her energy than she cared to let on.
"If Rikker died at the hands of Charles Gordon, I'm afraid your problems have multiplied," she began. She felt as if she were a teacher in the midst of a group of children, eager for their story.
She continued, "From what I've heard, he used to be pretty notorious for his duels. It's an old fashioned tradition, no one really gets involved except for old vampires with a sense of 'honor' or something, but Gordon's were especially ugly. I've personally never met him - he's probably closer to the three times my age - but from what I've heard, he's ruthless in a way that makes Rikker look like a kitten." She paused, considering for a moment, "Rikker was...sloppy as a leader. Too distracted with profit. Gordon is a military man. Imagine if you took the raw power of a vampire and organized them, made them into soldiers. That's what you'll be dealing with if Charles Gordon is involved. Plus, he knows you're coming."
Casually, she lifted a hand to touch the shaft of her long hair, assessing the mess of blood that had caked some of the locks together. She was desperate for that shower. “I may have some information that could help you even the playing field...there’s a storehouse in the city that de Lacy used to keep heavily guarded. I can’t say for sure what’s inside, but whatever it is must be either extremely valuable or lethal. With the recent power change, I’m guessing no one’s claimed it yet.” She looked up at the group expectantly, “I can take you there, if we’re all clear about my terms?” she pressed, making it clear that she wanted their explicit agreement. | Name: Kaori Lyle
Age: 42 (Appears Early 20’s)
Gender: Female
Breed/Species/Type/Lineage: Vampire
Talents:
- Immortality
- Enhanced strength and agility
- Enhanced Senses
- Healing
- Experienced with firearms and blades
- Vulnerabilities: fire, sunlight, decapitation, and stakes
History: During the Vietnam War, Kaori’s father (American) met her mother while deployed. As the war came to an end, the two were married. He moved his new wife back to the United States where Kaori would be born and raised.
In the aftershock of the war, Kaori and her mother suffered mild discrimination. However, it was the emotional trauma suffered by her father that began the family’s decent into poverty. To cope with his PTSD, her father became heavily dependent on alcohol and struggled to provide for his family. Although her mother tried, the stigma surrounding her heritage and her own ignorance of American ways made it very difficult for her to earn any type of substantial income.
In her teenage years, Kaori turned to illegal activity to help her family survive. She began in petty theft, and eventually branched out to drug distribution. She continued this line of ‘work’ into her early adult years, until one risky deal went poorly and nearly cost Kaori her life and lead to her ‘change’ into vampirism by a being with a similar heritage to her own. While the first year of her vampirism was difficult, her mentor provided guidance to help Kaori to use her new talents to enhance her old life. She quickly sharpened her skills, and became a sought after ally in criminal circles.
Her talents earned her enough money to support her parents until their eventual death, after which she relocated and eventually settled in New Camden. She now occupies an elegant loft apartment and loans her skills to the highest bidder. Although she has done jobs for members of the council, she did not work for them exclusively.
Over the years, she has had few valuable relationships and friendships as they typically end poorly or in violence.
Psychological Profile: Due to the nature of her work, Kaori doesn’t exactly hold to any strong morals. However, she has common sense enough to think carefully through her actions so as not to compromise herself or the supernatural community. While she isn’t opposed to taking a life, she also doesn’t murder recklessly as she resents the notion of being little more than an animal. Because she came to the country feeling like an outsider, she’s always been a bit of a loner and doesn’t confide much in other people. A very deeply buried part of herself aches over her constant loneliness, but it’s unlikely that anyone would ever get close enough to her to discover this weakness. Also, Kaori has grown to admire fine things and detests the notion of poverty.
Possessions:
-Vietnamese kimonos/robes inherited from her late mother
-A small arsenal of firearms
-Collection of valuable blades from different areas of asia
Yes, and:Kaori crossed paths with Gray Conover one dark night when she was fulfilling a request given to her by the council. When she arrived, she found her prey being hunted by an unlikely predator. From the smell of his blood, Kaori suspected he was human. She lurked in the shadows until the job was done, studying the brave human's methods...and memorizing his scent. |
46,630 | 1,263 | 154 | 2,356 | 5,042 | Autumn stayed seated while she tried to pull up what she knew on Charles Gordon. Having a vast knowledge didn't equate to instant recollection. The mind was still much like a computer's hard drive. The more information that is there the longer it takes to search. After a couple minutes she leaned forward. "I have never met him personally either but I am familiar with his work. His tactics leave no room for compassion. He served in the Union during the United State's Civil War as well as a few run ins with Native Americans. He hasn't always stayed on the radar, doing things in the side for the courts. But as I recall he has experience quelling rebellious supernaturals. If he is running things then we have our work cut out for us."
Perhaps now would be a good time to start a brood. It would take a week, five days at best, for the eggs to hatch into an eight legged army. At that point she would probably have to reveal herself to the rest of the group. However it would be better than dying. "I think our vampire friend has a vested interest in helping before things get out of hand. If we want to come out of this alive then there are preparations that I need to make that can increase our chances. Sadly it's nothing that can help us in the immediate future." Standing up she moved off to her own to think a bit. | Name: Claudia Laurel
Age: 23 (Physically) 62 (In reality)
Gender: Female
Breed/Species/Type/Lineage: Half-Demon
Physical Description:
Talents:
-Using Firearms
-Hand to hand combat
-Stalking/Sneaking
-Controlling fire
-Parkour
-Faster Healing
History:
Claudia was born in 1953, into a prominent family of demons due to an affair between a demon woman and a human. Her family had wealth, power, and most important of all, reputation. Her birth was not wanted by the elders, seeing as her parents were both young, and the fact that Claudia was a half-demon, which were considered disgraces and looked down upon. Claudia's grandfather, Harriet Laurel, decided that Claudia and her father were to be executed. Claudia's mother didn't want this, and helped her daughter disappear, along with Claudia's father. They began a new life (on earth) in America as James Williams and his young daughter, Claudia Williams.
Two years later, Her father was drafted into the Vietnam war at the age of twenty. Claudia was sent to live with her aunt in Virginia, and spent the next twenty years staying there, waiting for her father to return. He never did. Her family was informed of his death, and Claudia received his possessions. In a trunk was a stack of letters, mostly love letters between her mother and father. After digging through the trunk and reading the old letters, she came upon addressed to her, from her parents. The letter told her all about her heritage and why she didn't have a mother with her.Claudia had hoped to get in touch with them, but was not able to enter their world and when summoned, they rejected her because she was a 'Halfling'.
Left with no where to go, she wandered until one she walked in on two people fighting. One pulled out a gun to shoot the other, and Claudia threw the nearest thing she could find at the man, which happened to her shoe. The man ran off not wanting to be seen, and the other, Tom, introduced himself. The two became quick friends, both having no where to go. They lived off the streets, and eventually joined a gang. The two became tangled in a web of crimes and violence, and Tom decide that they needed to learn to defend themselves. They became more active in the gang learning from the other members how to fight, and later how to kill. Claudia and Tom advanced from just people taken under their wing to some of the most able members.
Eventually the gang was busted, and Claudia escaped with Tom. They moved to New Camden, and decided to try to lay low. It didn't work out, as they were in desperate need of money, and Claudia ended up taking jobs which weren't quite legal. She eventually got arrested for vehicular manslaughter, of all things. She was sentenced to five years in prison. When she was let out on probation, she discovered that Tom had passed away. With nothing left, Claudia became a servant for a supernatural household in the court. When Nemsemet took over, her master was killed, along with his family. Claudia was given two choices. Join his side or die. She did what she thought every sane person would have done, and chose not to die. She needed the money anyway. She now works as a servant/hitman for Nemsemet, and though she may not like it, money always comes first. And her dog.
Psychological Profile:
Due to her history, Claudia is very pessimistic. She doesn't believe in the whole 'heart of gold' thing, and distrusts everyone around her. She doesn't like to show emotion, believing they are weaknesses. She believes that the court and the wealthy families in New Camden are all corrupt, but also thinks that Nemsemet is the same.
Claudia has two 'modes', in place of emotions. There's stoic and uncaring, and then theres angry. When taking out targets, she remains cold and collected, but her anger can be triggered easily; she is sensitive about her family, and will physically harm anyone who insults her parents. She is also angered by the social hierarchy of fullbloods and halfbloods. Although she is willing to kill in cold blood, she is not merciless. She prefers to take people out quickly and painlessly, and if you give her good reason not to do something, she'll listen to you. Although it's hard to get her to trust you, if she believes in your cause then she will remain loyal.
Possessions:
A silver ring, which hides her identity as a supernatural creature, given to her by her mother. Two handguns, Several knives, and a sniper rifle. Has extras at her 'home', which is actually an abandoned building. A large husky she adopted off the streets. The closest thing she's ever had to a familiar.
Yes, and:
Claudia met Karram when she was sent to court for vehicular manslaughter. He was one of the people who helped get her a shortened sentence. She has mixed feelings about him. On one hand, he shortened her punishment, on the other hand, he still sent her to prison.
Now though, they're going to meet under much different circumstances. Karram is one of the people she has been requested to kill, so thats awkward.
(I didn't really know what to do here ^, so it can be changed.) |
46,631 | 1,263 | 155 | 2,534 | 450 | Murdering Native Americans. A guy who loves to strut his stuff as a soldier. Generally cold, all business, and ready to pounce on a goon who didn't salute promptly? Definitely sounded like the kind of guy who had his grubby palms all over Parry's sword.
"Well, the good news is he can't really use my sword to do anything crazy- like blow up the sun or enslave the human race. It's, like, fingerprint locked to me, so he's just got a really, really, really sharp sword." Parry nodded at Exie. "I think we should go for the spooky warehouse that may-or-may-not be a trap meant to kill us all. Not that my vote counts for anything. Unless our dear leader has any other ideas?"
Parry waited for Rikive to speak- either assenting or changing the plan. He'd follow the Norse demi-goddess to Hel and back with no complaints, if they could get to Hel from this city. | Name: Parael Magnus
Age: 777
Gender: Androgynous (often answers to male pronouns)
Breed: Retired Celestial ('Nephilim')
Physical Description: (Because I can never get pictures to work right >.< )
Parael stands just shy of 6 feet tall, near 130lbs, with long golden hair grown down to his shoulders, often done up in a ponytail. When working at his center he's dressed in ragged jeans and a clean vest with a diaper bag over his shoulder. On the streets he often wears a button up vest, while channeling his powers can reveal ethereal wings that no longer physically exist.
Talents:
Parael lost most of his Celestial powers after he retired and became Nephilim, but he has picked up a few skills here and there since becoming half human...
- Divine Light: Normally deadly and natural to a full Celestial, Parael was taught to channel Divine power through his human hands roughly 500 years ago. Through human conjuring, this power is little more than a bright and hot flare.
- Glamour: By necessity, Parael has learned to harness human illusion powers to maintain glamours around himself and his place of business, disguising himself against mortal eyes.
History:
Parael doesn't like to discuss his history from before his retirement to the human world ("I abhor getting involved with all the human dogma over whose Creator is right. You all need to stop worrying your lovely faces about that and get to the business of living!") But certain individuals believe that he was present shortly after the moment of creation, this revelation coming from nights involving too much alcohol and pillow talk- and as with all such talk, could easily be a fabrication. Whatever precipitated Parael to hang up his wings in the Middle Ages is between Parael and whatever Celestial ordered him around at the time.
After coming down to Earth in the Far East during the Middle Ages and being tutored in human culture by a Chinese dragon, Parael hitch-hiked across the silk road with a Djinni caravan, partied in Europe among the Faerie courts through the Renaissance, sailed across the Atlantic to South America to run with were-jaguars during the Age of Exploration, chillaxed in the Caribbean with wizard cabals through to the 1800s, and finally settled in New Camden during the modern era. It wasn't until settling Camden that he actually began to buy into the tributary system and managed to cultivate a number of relationships with the ruling council of the city ("'Cultivate' is such a cleaned up word, darling! I got around. A lot.")
Celestial blood is a much desired commodity in the magical world, being used for anything from spell components in Elixers of Life to psychotropic drugs for werewolves. His identity as a Celestial would be impossible to conceal forever, so Parael worked out a deal with the city's vampire leader Caradoc de Lacy to provide a certain tithe of blood every month, allowing the vampire to store and imbibe it whenever he liked- negating the deadliness of sunlight to the city's leader for a few hours at a time. Being able to surprise his foes at high noon while they plotted against him was a boon the vampire couldn't afford to pass up. Caradoc, meanwhile, protected Parael's identity as a Celestial from the general supernatural population, eliminating anyone who got too close to the truth of how he could move about during daylight hours.
This protection became doubly handy when, in the Moral Panic of the 1980s, the human city council tried to shut down Parael's daycare center under the pretense of "protecting children from the homosexual menace." Caradoc stepped up and bullied the council into keeping away, but the Celestial soon found himself in deeper debt to Caradoc for the intercession.
Caradoc's human rival, Baroness Augusta, a wizard with an arsenal of magic at her disposal, lost three magi trying to discern how Caradoc could move about seemingly at random during the day. When she discovered the existence of Parael, the two leaders called a council to discuss his presence in Camden. Parael doesn't know what accord they came to, but the inquiries from the city's wizards did stop.
To the supernatural "public" of Camden, Parael is still an eccentric magi who is good with kids and operates out of a daycare center on the East Side. Parael pays tribute by watching over the children of other paranormals, occasionally enchanting them with glamour to pass under mortal gaze when not in full control of their powers; and most importantly, by his blood tithe to the Prince ("And judging by how Baroness Augusta's wrinkled face is looking, the covens are getting a cut too. Unless that's Botox she's taking and I'm wrong.")
With the arrival of Nemsemet and the eradication of the Count and his court, Parael is feeling the pressure whether to go underground or to step up and fight. Coming out of retirement is not in the cards, as a full Celestial entering battle with Nemsemet may emerge victorious, but the clash could level the city of New Camden and everyone in it. For now his daycare center has turned into nothing less than a fortified bunker with wizards and faeries placing wards all over the grounds to protect their next generation from the wrath of Nemsemet...
Psychological Profile:
Parael is a bubbly, flirtatious individual who is absolutely enthralled with the modern mortal world. The iPhone is a greater wonder than all the stars in the sky ("Except for Orion, that sly stud!"). His identity as an ex-Celestial is a closely guarded secret however, and he is supremely sensitive to anyone bringing up the idea that he could be one.
Possessions:
Parael travels light in his day-to-day work. He always has a slick, designer diaper bag on hand from which he pulls all manner of items including toys, food, spellbooks and extra clothes. Buried beneath the floorboards in his bedroom is a dirty, dented iron longsword which he treats with all the reverence of a Colt .45 when in hand.
He does keep an enormous collection of mementos in his apartment. He still has a silk robe which he picked up from his landing in China, which he often lays about in during his off hours, a set of jeweled earrings from India during his trek across the Silk Road, a silver Fairy Sword he got from the Queen of Spring in a tournament ("I'm not bragging, but it was actually the prize in a beauty contest."), and a collection of Obsidian daggers and war clubs during his time in the South American jungles with the were-panthers ("I've yet to find better steak knives and meat tenderizers!").
Yes, and: Parael Magnus hunkered down right after the appearance of the dread Nemsemet, warding his daycare center to try and hide the fact that he was a Celestial from the enemy and providing a place of safety for anyone else who needed a way to lay low... |
46,632 | 1,263 | 156 | 1,012 | 4,032 | Gordon was, like many vampires, uncomfortable watching magicians work their trade, and that never quite went away, especially as he paused to appreciate the potentials of magic users in the form of Anastasia Petrova, who was as ruthless and cunning as they came. She was creative and solution-oriented. At first glance, a vampire had considerable advantages and retained them in a surprise encounter. Speed, strength, ability to heal.
However, a truly skilled sorceress, like Anastasia Petrova was, had the power to tap into the universe's underlying forces in a way that couldn't be explained, but the engineer in him appreciated that it was a force to be manipulated and that Anastasia sought to understand the rules so as to use them to her advantage. Given preparation, she could overcome the likes of Gordon. Some magicians were fire-slinging thugs, engines of destruction, but it was the subtle ones that exploited connections and figured out how to use magic to get around obstacles that gave Gordon cause for disquiet.
For example, a thing with a connection to another thing, in the magical sense, could have that connection exploited. Which was why the sword sat in the middle of a circle along with other things they'd gleaned from Parael's visions -- the trappings of things childlike that they'd dug up, like a child's book, a diaper, Torah scrolls, his name and the word 'nephilim' written in the original Hebrew around the circle in the blood of a lamb, that being very much a biblical link -- the blood had power. Petrova was not necessarily a scholar of these things, but Gordon grew up with a degree of interest in the classics and was a connoisseur of the Old Testament, so he supplied some of the necessary flourishes to Petrova.
She was working her chant, the old girl in the young body, wrapped in a red, pure linen, that being another connection to the Bible, moved about in a loosely flowing dance that built up a charge through the room, the feeling of humming that penetrated the marble floor and the columns of her chamber. The candles flickered though there was no wind to disrupt them that Gordon could feel as the circle became a battery, and the sword became a focus lens.
As she moved in that agile, flowing way of hers, finely muscled calves and then some displayed in her attire, he reflected that as a mortal man, he might be drawn to the finely couture'd Parisian look that Anastasia favored; the eyes were perhaps a bit too unsettling, though, wise old eyes, hard and predatory, staring out from a haughty nose with a high brow and a mouth that could go stern very quickly. Much as she tried to affect the pose of a carefree, glamorous girl, she'd never be quite that. Too much blood under the fingernails, much like his sire.
Had she not been a wizard and no doubt created precautions against him before he walked in, as he called ahead to announce himself, he might have been tempted to feed upon her then and there; he liked to hunt the dangerous game, after all. But right now, there was more afoot than merely the pleasure of feeding.
With a shudder that he could perceive but not necessarily feel -- certainly not the way Anastasia Petrova did when she cried out her last syllable in the chant and threw herself in the air, as if providing a mighty momentum to something heavy -- the ritual was over, the candles were out and the sorceress was slumped. But she was smiling in that way of hers as she gathered herself up regally and informed Gordon, "It is done." | Name: Antonio Victor Barnes
Age: 65
Gender: Male
Breed/Species/Type/Lineage: Lycanthrope; were-lion.
Talents:- Beastman form; deadly and effective, but terrifying and very, very, very obvious. It is a combination of a Lion's instincts and muscle density and natural equipment with the upright stature of a human being and a degree of their thought processes melded with the instinct of the animal. It is monstrous and the reason the legends exist.
- Full African lion form - like the cat. Not nearly as useful as, say, a wolf form that could be written off as a dog.
- Fast-healing in man-beast. In other forms, he takes damage normally.
- If hit with anything silver, he is immediately shifted back into normal human form. Also, if a silver bullet is in him, he is unable to shift.
- Rage; in enough pain, he'll see red and there is the potential to start killing indiscriminately to escape this. On the other hand, he's had years to learn how to control this.
- As the moon cycles, his abilities wax and wane; at full moon, he has a hard time controlling said abilities. Nearer the new moon, he finds it requires an extra degree of effort to use his abilities and he tends to tire out easier.
- Even as a human, he has increased senses that allows him to detect things with his nose; for example, sweat and various other secretions, and where they are emotionally based on that. It's a combination of animal magnetism and animal instinct.
History:Antonio Victor Barnes was born to a Afro-Cuban mother and a half-white father in New Camden, in the Dorset neighborhood, which was once home to the Cardinal's Point General Motors factory. His father, Joe, had a good job there, though he worked very hard for it. He'd come to Camden from Virginia. His mother had very little to say about the country she left or the circumstances back there.
In 1967 Uncle Sam decided to draft Antonio into the Vietnam War. He arrived in December of 1967 and saw service right as the Tet Offensive started up in February of 1968. He served in the 9th Infantry Division in the Mekong Delta, fighting near the Cambodian border. Serving as a cherry (replacement) in his new platoon, he served for five months of his tour, watching guys get blown up by booby traps, wounded by mortar fire, shot by Cong and NVA and otherwise chopped up in a futile-seeming war in the jungle; waist deep in the muck of the Mekong Delta. His battalion suffered repeated Viet Cong and NLF/PAVN attacks one night and the next put his company out on the outpost line, which was then overrun by a particularly savage attack by the Vietnamese. Terrified, with his squad dying and dead around him in the jungle night, he changed into the man-beast form and mauled a number of VC and NVA regulars, even as the A-6 Intruders dropped napalm and cluster bombs all over the jungle when the company CO called down the strikes inside his box, on top of the heads of friendlies.
His position took a hit, but he survived, to the astonishment of the reinforcements combing over the battlefield, policing up the weapons and the mauled bodies; the Vietnamese were dumped into a mass grave, the Americans taken to graves registration. But no one could figure up what tore up all these people -- some of the bodies were ripped to shreds.
"Shrapnel, napalm, fuckit," they said.
Barnes was MIA.
He spent time in the jungle, hunting, killing and learning his abilities, and eventually had a sense of how to control them enough to shift back to human form and find help. During that time, the legends were rife in VI Corps and Viet Cong alike of a killer tiger running about in the Delta, a huge, dangerous beast. So it was considered a miracle when he finally was found by the Army; presumed to have escaped POW captivity among the Viet Cong as well as the man-eater of the Mekong, he was evacuated out and then honorably discharged at the end of his draft service in Fort Polk.
His return to the World, coincided with the start of economic hard times in Camden, especially as Cardinal's Point started to lay people off and he flirted around with various dissident movements like the Black Panthers and other organizations that were concerned with the plight of the black man in America, especially after Vietnam. Every full moon, there was the potential for devastation and destruction, and he isolated himself to keep from having another situation where he killed people indiscriminately.
He bummed around the country and, ironically, ran into the Courts in New Orleans of all places, where the supernatural are able to move about a little more freely, and the mortals know a little more than they ought to. His girlfriend at the time, Marie, a Creole, introduced him to the Courts and the supernatural community, though she was somewhat shaky on how things worked because she wasn't entirely clued in, but steered him to people who definitely were.
He learned that he wasn't alone, wasn't the only one and there was a world out there with laws...and that if his black ass felt discriminated against before, wait until he met the Nobles of the courts.
New Orleans wasn't the worst place to lay up and learn things, the Court there was not one of the worst and he used his GI benefits to enroll in Tulane University, where he majored in social work, and carried that into a Master's in Business Administration while working in social work all over the State of Louisiana, where it was needed.
In the course of time, he returned to Camden when his father got sick to help take care of his parents, sometime in the early 1980's, and found that that Camden was as economically depressed as New Orleans. He quickly got to work with local activists and other like minded folk and started trying to find ways to work the system and rebuild the thriving middle class neighborhood he lived in, even as yuppie white fuckers exported all the jobs to places like China, and, ironically, Vietnam.
Fast forward decades later, and Antonio still looks rather young (magical energy tends to sustain a longer lifespan anyway) and has no idea how long his life is going to be, but he's spent a lot of it building the Horizon Foundation, a large not-for-profit that is devoted to preserving New Camden's cultural history and finding new ways to turn old buildings into something profitable within the community as well as retraining and employing locals, particularly out of economically depressed areas like his native Dorset. He paid his tithe, avoided Court politics and was trying to do something good with his life when Nemsemet came to town.
Not liking the injustice of the Court, he didn't really care what Nemsemet did to the likes of Caradoc de Lacy. The only problem is, of course, that Nemsemet is a crazy motherfucker and he's not stopping there. . He's also rallied a lot of lycanthropes to the cause, men and women that are a lot less controlled than Antonio is, raised in clans together that distrust the outside world and are indoctrinated against normal humanity. It's understandable, they've been hunted, persecuted and have lived on the margins. Antonio has some sway with them, in that they are not enthusiastically hunting one of their own, but they aren't listening when he tries to rally these various lycanthrope clans.
Nemsemet is bad news. Now he's on the run like a lot of other people.
Psychological Profile:Deep down, Barnes is still guilty about what he did in Vietnam, flying off the handle, killing a bunch of people indiscriminately. While time has healed some of it, he left the 'Nam resolved to do something worthy and good with the rest of his life, and got into the nitty gritty of social work and entepreneurial neighborhood development. He's always been careful to avoid getting overly involved in Court politics. The Court, so long as one pays tithe and avoids breaking the Concealment Edict, really doesn't care.
On the other hand, the injustice of the Court rankles Antonio, and he's happy to see it gone. But he has a regard for human life that most lycanthropes don't, and is one of the few standing against Nemsemet.
Possessions:A nice house, inherited from his deceased parents that isn't really safe to stay in any more. He's socked away money wisely invested, as well as his considerable salary as the CEO of Horizon. He has a particularly nice 1969 Pontiac Firebird and a shotgun at home that, quite frankly, he doesn't use.
He has a nice cell phone though and some authentic Vietnamese Buddhist prayer beads he picked up in the 1990's when he travelled back to 'Nam to make his peace with the past. They have supernatural significance that he doesn't really understand.
Yes, and: ...Flint and Antonio had a run-in in 1987 or so, when Flint suspected Antonio in a grisly series of murders that involved the consumption of corpses after digging into his Vietnam War history. Antonio was charged by the court, though his innocence was proven when the murders continued with him in custody. Flint and Antonio worked together grudgingly to catch the werewolf family responsible for it, but there's no love lost there. |
46,633 | 1,263 | 157 | 2,534 | 450 | Parry was stepping out of the way for Kaori to head to the showers when it happened. One minute he had both feet planted firmly on the floor- the next he was suspended about an inch above the ground. He did a quick double take on the wings to see if Cym's were acting up and giving him trouble.
Nope. No wings.
And when he tried to move his arms to grab on to the door, he found he had about an inch of space before they were pulled back into a position at his sides. His legs, likewise, had no room to move.
"Guys..." he whispered, hovering in place as the bonds tightened. "I fink we have a pwobwem."
The sounds of chanting in old Hebrew echoed in Parry's brain as his eyes rolled back in his skull. Somewhere far away, he felt his sword- his own weapon- being acted on by forces beyond his control. Gordon and his other minion. Playing at something. Getting inside his core being, manipulating him through the blade. He knew a few things about human magic, and Gordon didn't have the power to kill him with just the sword by itself. Nor could he use it to trace Parry back to his current location- at best he'd get "somewhere on the East Side" as a result of that spell. Which begged the question- what was Gordon playing at?
The contractions, when they started, wracked through every bone of Parry's body and seized his muscles in one massive charlie horse- the metaphysical bonds that held him suspended heated up, bright red circles forming on his wrists, ankles and one around his neck. The squeezing seized him from every side at once- left, right, up, down, and even from within- in heaving fits.
Before the eyes of everyone present, Parry shrank by a whole foot.
"Guys!"
Another massive charlie horse, bones crunching and grinding as they warped into smaller versions of themselves. Another foot. Parry was left swimming in his jeans, his body less lean and defined- down to the size and height of a pre-teen. His eyes wide as saucers as Parry realized just what she was doing. If your enemy has a nuclear bomb, you don't just try to beat him with another nuke. You take away his nuke. At this size, Parry wouldn't be able to do much more than lift Cym's sword. The wings would be too bulky to manifest on Parry's body as well.
"Gordon can't take my powers, so he's making me so I can't use them!"
Another crack, pop, and muscle seizure made him flinch. His body curled up against its bonds, holding on for dear life as he felt the onset of one more massive muscle cramp approaching.
"You gotta find mah sword!"
The seizure slammed into Parry with all the force of a tidal wave, crashing and warping his body in seconds. Thrown into a whirlpool of magical energy, he finally lost it and actually yelled in pain from the incantation. The yell turned into a cry, which turned into a sob, which turned into a wail. What was left sitting on the floor, arcane bindings still on its wrists, was a child. Roughly two years old, pretty blond hair, and pudgy with baby fat.
"Well dat fuckin' shucked!" Parry said after rubbing his eyes, then gaping open mouthed at his own pudgy fingers. "Guys! Gordon made me fat! We's gotta kill him now!" | Name: Parael Magnus
Age: 777
Gender: Androgynous (often answers to male pronouns)
Breed: Retired Celestial ('Nephilim')
Physical Description: (Because I can never get pictures to work right >.< )
Parael stands just shy of 6 feet tall, near 130lbs, with long golden hair grown down to his shoulders, often done up in a ponytail. When working at his center he's dressed in ragged jeans and a clean vest with a diaper bag over his shoulder. On the streets he often wears a button up vest, while channeling his powers can reveal ethereal wings that no longer physically exist.
Talents:
Parael lost most of his Celestial powers after he retired and became Nephilim, but he has picked up a few skills here and there since becoming half human...
- Divine Light: Normally deadly and natural to a full Celestial, Parael was taught to channel Divine power through his human hands roughly 500 years ago. Through human conjuring, this power is little more than a bright and hot flare.
- Glamour: By necessity, Parael has learned to harness human illusion powers to maintain glamours around himself and his place of business, disguising himself against mortal eyes.
History:
Parael doesn't like to discuss his history from before his retirement to the human world ("I abhor getting involved with all the human dogma over whose Creator is right. You all need to stop worrying your lovely faces about that and get to the business of living!") But certain individuals believe that he was present shortly after the moment of creation, this revelation coming from nights involving too much alcohol and pillow talk- and as with all such talk, could easily be a fabrication. Whatever precipitated Parael to hang up his wings in the Middle Ages is between Parael and whatever Celestial ordered him around at the time.
After coming down to Earth in the Far East during the Middle Ages and being tutored in human culture by a Chinese dragon, Parael hitch-hiked across the silk road with a Djinni caravan, partied in Europe among the Faerie courts through the Renaissance, sailed across the Atlantic to South America to run with were-jaguars during the Age of Exploration, chillaxed in the Caribbean with wizard cabals through to the 1800s, and finally settled in New Camden during the modern era. It wasn't until settling Camden that he actually began to buy into the tributary system and managed to cultivate a number of relationships with the ruling council of the city ("'Cultivate' is such a cleaned up word, darling! I got around. A lot.")
Celestial blood is a much desired commodity in the magical world, being used for anything from spell components in Elixers of Life to psychotropic drugs for werewolves. His identity as a Celestial would be impossible to conceal forever, so Parael worked out a deal with the city's vampire leader Caradoc de Lacy to provide a certain tithe of blood every month, allowing the vampire to store and imbibe it whenever he liked- negating the deadliness of sunlight to the city's leader for a few hours at a time. Being able to surprise his foes at high noon while they plotted against him was a boon the vampire couldn't afford to pass up. Caradoc, meanwhile, protected Parael's identity as a Celestial from the general supernatural population, eliminating anyone who got too close to the truth of how he could move about during daylight hours.
This protection became doubly handy when, in the Moral Panic of the 1980s, the human city council tried to shut down Parael's daycare center under the pretense of "protecting children from the homosexual menace." Caradoc stepped up and bullied the council into keeping away, but the Celestial soon found himself in deeper debt to Caradoc for the intercession.
Caradoc's human rival, Baroness Augusta, a wizard with an arsenal of magic at her disposal, lost three magi trying to discern how Caradoc could move about seemingly at random during the day. When she discovered the existence of Parael, the two leaders called a council to discuss his presence in Camden. Parael doesn't know what accord they came to, but the inquiries from the city's wizards did stop.
To the supernatural "public" of Camden, Parael is still an eccentric magi who is good with kids and operates out of a daycare center on the East Side. Parael pays tribute by watching over the children of other paranormals, occasionally enchanting them with glamour to pass under mortal gaze when not in full control of their powers; and most importantly, by his blood tithe to the Prince ("And judging by how Baroness Augusta's wrinkled face is looking, the covens are getting a cut too. Unless that's Botox she's taking and I'm wrong.")
With the arrival of Nemsemet and the eradication of the Count and his court, Parael is feeling the pressure whether to go underground or to step up and fight. Coming out of retirement is not in the cards, as a full Celestial entering battle with Nemsemet may emerge victorious, but the clash could level the city of New Camden and everyone in it. For now his daycare center has turned into nothing less than a fortified bunker with wizards and faeries placing wards all over the grounds to protect their next generation from the wrath of Nemsemet...
Psychological Profile:
Parael is a bubbly, flirtatious individual who is absolutely enthralled with the modern mortal world. The iPhone is a greater wonder than all the stars in the sky ("Except for Orion, that sly stud!"). His identity as an ex-Celestial is a closely guarded secret however, and he is supremely sensitive to anyone bringing up the idea that he could be one.
Possessions:
Parael travels light in his day-to-day work. He always has a slick, designer diaper bag on hand from which he pulls all manner of items including toys, food, spellbooks and extra clothes. Buried beneath the floorboards in his bedroom is a dirty, dented iron longsword which he treats with all the reverence of a Colt .45 when in hand.
He does keep an enormous collection of mementos in his apartment. He still has a silk robe which he picked up from his landing in China, which he often lays about in during his off hours, a set of jeweled earrings from India during his trek across the Silk Road, a silver Fairy Sword he got from the Queen of Spring in a tournament ("I'm not bragging, but it was actually the prize in a beauty contest."), and a collection of Obsidian daggers and war clubs during his time in the South American jungles with the were-panthers ("I've yet to find better steak knives and meat tenderizers!").
Yes, and: Parael Magnus hunkered down right after the appearance of the dread Nemsemet, warding his daycare center to try and hide the fact that he was a Celestial from the enemy and providing a place of safety for anyone else who needed a way to lay low... |
46,634 | 1,263 | 158 | 781 | 162 | Rikive narrowed her eyes as the vampire divulged her...helpful information. A mysterious warehouse that may have something inside that could help them? This coming from someone they took captive but now wanted to fight on their side? Rikive wasn't buying it for a second. It sounded like too much risk without knowing what the reward would be.
Why were they even considering letting the vampire join them? They were just supposed to get information from her then kill her. Now the others were ready to let her into their fold? Rikive still had some doubts about Autumn and Gray, but she was going to draw the line at this. She wasn't going to risk the lives of these people on a hunch from the likes of the vampire.
"All I've heard is 'maybe'." She spoke up after Parael drew the groups attention to her, folding her arms over her chest. Her pale green eyes glowering daggers into the vampires. "I don't want to risk anyone's life on 'maybe' and," She lowered her arms and took a step forward. "I am not going to-"
She cut herself off when a chill ran up her spine and she sensed something fall over the bunker. Her eyes snapped over to Parael and she gasped seeing him suspended in the air as red marks like bindings appeared on his body. She reached out to grab him out of instinct. Her fingers felt like they hit an invisible wall for a moment before she was thrown back by the energy encasing Parael. Her body slammed into one of the concrete walls, the force of the impact cracking the stone underneath her.
Rikive growled in anger as she dropped back onto the floor, perfectly fine after having what felt like a semi truck run into her. Hands clenched at her sides, all she could do was watch with growing anger and horror as Parael was turned into a toddler. Swears and other choice words fell out of her mouth in Old Norse, her tone laced with frustration. She turned and punched the concrete wall behind her and creating a good sized depression in the rock.
She kept her fist there for a moment, taking in a deep breaths to calm herself back down. "Parael," She breathed out, lowering her hand and turning around to look down at toddler Parael. "You aren't fat. You're a baby. Again." She explained, jaw tight as she tried to calm down and think rationally again. It was hard considering not only was her friend in danger as long as Gordon had his sword, but their best weapon against Nemesemt was completely neutralized. | Name: Kaori Lyle
Age: 42 (Appears Early 20’s)
Gender: Female
Breed/Species/Type/Lineage: Vampire
Talents:
- Immortality
- Enhanced strength and agility
- Enhanced Senses
- Healing
- Experienced with firearms and blades
- Vulnerabilities: fire, sunlight, decapitation, and stakes
History: During the Vietnam War, Kaori’s father (American) met her mother while deployed. As the war came to an end, the two were married. He moved his new wife back to the United States where Kaori would be born and raised.
In the aftershock of the war, Kaori and her mother suffered mild discrimination. However, it was the emotional trauma suffered by her father that began the family’s decent into poverty. To cope with his PTSD, her father became heavily dependent on alcohol and struggled to provide for his family. Although her mother tried, the stigma surrounding her heritage and her own ignorance of American ways made it very difficult for her to earn any type of substantial income.
In her teenage years, Kaori turned to illegal activity to help her family survive. She began in petty theft, and eventually branched out to drug distribution. She continued this line of ‘work’ into her early adult years, until one risky deal went poorly and nearly cost Kaori her life and lead to her ‘change’ into vampirism by a being with a similar heritage to her own. While the first year of her vampirism was difficult, her mentor provided guidance to help Kaori to use her new talents to enhance her old life. She quickly sharpened her skills, and became a sought after ally in criminal circles.
Her talents earned her enough money to support her parents until their eventual death, after which she relocated and eventually settled in New Camden. She now occupies an elegant loft apartment and loans her skills to the highest bidder. Although she has done jobs for members of the council, she did not work for them exclusively.
Over the years, she has had few valuable relationships and friendships as they typically end poorly or in violence.
Psychological Profile: Due to the nature of her work, Kaori doesn’t exactly hold to any strong morals. However, she has common sense enough to think carefully through her actions so as not to compromise herself or the supernatural community. While she isn’t opposed to taking a life, she also doesn’t murder recklessly as she resents the notion of being little more than an animal. Because she came to the country feeling like an outsider, she’s always been a bit of a loner and doesn’t confide much in other people. A very deeply buried part of herself aches over her constant loneliness, but it’s unlikely that anyone would ever get close enough to her to discover this weakness. Also, Kaori has grown to admire fine things and detests the notion of poverty.
Possessions:
-Vietnamese kimonos/robes inherited from her late mother
-A small arsenal of firearms
-Collection of valuable blades from different areas of asia
Yes, and:Kaori crossed paths with Gray Conover one dark night when she was fulfilling a request given to her by the council. When she arrived, she found her prey being hunted by an unlikely predator. From the smell of his blood, Kaori suspected he was human. She lurked in the shadows until the job was done, studying the brave human's methods...and memorizing his scent. |
46,635 | 1,263 | 159 | 1,012 | 4,032 | After letting the moment hang tense in the air, Tony chimed in, "If Gordon did this to Parael, it's because he wants to flush us out to try and stop him directly. We should see if we can investigate this stash of de Lacy's, it might be a good way to surprise Gordon and allies when we do get around to helping out Parael..."
He glanced back to Parael with a shrug, "Uh, guess this means we need some baby food, doesn't it?"
Among other things; the man couldn't exactly do anything on his own in that state, toddling around or, worse, as an infant. Tony managed to avoid the actual 'joy' of parenthood, so this felt like a bit of a cosmic joke aimed at all of them; the room was full of dysfunctional beings that would make awful parents, and Tony knew it well enough to avoid it. The scarier thought still was that he'd probably be better at it than some of the people in here. The Hunter might be slightly better parental material than he, otherwise, there was a steep dropoff. He tried to imagine Flint changing a diaper and cringed.
Then he quickly backed out of the room, "I'll go do that, you guys can figure out the rest," he volunteered. | Name: Antonio Victor Barnes
Age: 65
Gender: Male
Breed/Species/Type/Lineage: Lycanthrope; were-lion.
Talents:- Beastman form; deadly and effective, but terrifying and very, very, very obvious. It is a combination of a Lion's instincts and muscle density and natural equipment with the upright stature of a human being and a degree of their thought processes melded with the instinct of the animal. It is monstrous and the reason the legends exist.
- Full African lion form - like the cat. Not nearly as useful as, say, a wolf form that could be written off as a dog.
- Fast-healing in man-beast. In other forms, he takes damage normally.
- If hit with anything silver, he is immediately shifted back into normal human form. Also, if a silver bullet is in him, he is unable to shift.
- Rage; in enough pain, he'll see red and there is the potential to start killing indiscriminately to escape this. On the other hand, he's had years to learn how to control this.
- As the moon cycles, his abilities wax and wane; at full moon, he has a hard time controlling said abilities. Nearer the new moon, he finds it requires an extra degree of effort to use his abilities and he tends to tire out easier.
- Even as a human, he has increased senses that allows him to detect things with his nose; for example, sweat and various other secretions, and where they are emotionally based on that. It's a combination of animal magnetism and animal instinct.
History:Antonio Victor Barnes was born to a Afro-Cuban mother and a half-white father in New Camden, in the Dorset neighborhood, which was once home to the Cardinal's Point General Motors factory. His father, Joe, had a good job there, though he worked very hard for it. He'd come to Camden from Virginia. His mother had very little to say about the country she left or the circumstances back there.
In 1967 Uncle Sam decided to draft Antonio into the Vietnam War. He arrived in December of 1967 and saw service right as the Tet Offensive started up in February of 1968. He served in the 9th Infantry Division in the Mekong Delta, fighting near the Cambodian border. Serving as a cherry (replacement) in his new platoon, he served for five months of his tour, watching guys get blown up by booby traps, wounded by mortar fire, shot by Cong and NVA and otherwise chopped up in a futile-seeming war in the jungle; waist deep in the muck of the Mekong Delta. His battalion suffered repeated Viet Cong and NLF/PAVN attacks one night and the next put his company out on the outpost line, which was then overrun by a particularly savage attack by the Vietnamese. Terrified, with his squad dying and dead around him in the jungle night, he changed into the man-beast form and mauled a number of VC and NVA regulars, even as the A-6 Intruders dropped napalm and cluster bombs all over the jungle when the company CO called down the strikes inside his box, on top of the heads of friendlies.
His position took a hit, but he survived, to the astonishment of the reinforcements combing over the battlefield, policing up the weapons and the mauled bodies; the Vietnamese were dumped into a mass grave, the Americans taken to graves registration. But no one could figure up what tore up all these people -- some of the bodies were ripped to shreds.
"Shrapnel, napalm, fuckit," they said.
Barnes was MIA.
He spent time in the jungle, hunting, killing and learning his abilities, and eventually had a sense of how to control them enough to shift back to human form and find help. During that time, the legends were rife in VI Corps and Viet Cong alike of a killer tiger running about in the Delta, a huge, dangerous beast. So it was considered a miracle when he finally was found by the Army; presumed to have escaped POW captivity among the Viet Cong as well as the man-eater of the Mekong, he was evacuated out and then honorably discharged at the end of his draft service in Fort Polk.
His return to the World, coincided with the start of economic hard times in Camden, especially as Cardinal's Point started to lay people off and he flirted around with various dissident movements like the Black Panthers and other organizations that were concerned with the plight of the black man in America, especially after Vietnam. Every full moon, there was the potential for devastation and destruction, and he isolated himself to keep from having another situation where he killed people indiscriminately.
He bummed around the country and, ironically, ran into the Courts in New Orleans of all places, where the supernatural are able to move about a little more freely, and the mortals know a little more than they ought to. His girlfriend at the time, Marie, a Creole, introduced him to the Courts and the supernatural community, though she was somewhat shaky on how things worked because she wasn't entirely clued in, but steered him to people who definitely were.
He learned that he wasn't alone, wasn't the only one and there was a world out there with laws...and that if his black ass felt discriminated against before, wait until he met the Nobles of the courts.
New Orleans wasn't the worst place to lay up and learn things, the Court there was not one of the worst and he used his GI benefits to enroll in Tulane University, where he majored in social work, and carried that into a Master's in Business Administration while working in social work all over the State of Louisiana, where it was needed.
In the course of time, he returned to Camden when his father got sick to help take care of his parents, sometime in the early 1980's, and found that that Camden was as economically depressed as New Orleans. He quickly got to work with local activists and other like minded folk and started trying to find ways to work the system and rebuild the thriving middle class neighborhood he lived in, even as yuppie white fuckers exported all the jobs to places like China, and, ironically, Vietnam.
Fast forward decades later, and Antonio still looks rather young (magical energy tends to sustain a longer lifespan anyway) and has no idea how long his life is going to be, but he's spent a lot of it building the Horizon Foundation, a large not-for-profit that is devoted to preserving New Camden's cultural history and finding new ways to turn old buildings into something profitable within the community as well as retraining and employing locals, particularly out of economically depressed areas like his native Dorset. He paid his tithe, avoided Court politics and was trying to do something good with his life when Nemsemet came to town.
Not liking the injustice of the Court, he didn't really care what Nemsemet did to the likes of Caradoc de Lacy. The only problem is, of course, that Nemsemet is a crazy motherfucker and he's not stopping there. . He's also rallied a lot of lycanthropes to the cause, men and women that are a lot less controlled than Antonio is, raised in clans together that distrust the outside world and are indoctrinated against normal humanity. It's understandable, they've been hunted, persecuted and have lived on the margins. Antonio has some sway with them, in that they are not enthusiastically hunting one of their own, but they aren't listening when he tries to rally these various lycanthrope clans.
Nemsemet is bad news. Now he's on the run like a lot of other people.
Psychological Profile:Deep down, Barnes is still guilty about what he did in Vietnam, flying off the handle, killing a bunch of people indiscriminately. While time has healed some of it, he left the 'Nam resolved to do something worthy and good with the rest of his life, and got into the nitty gritty of social work and entepreneurial neighborhood development. He's always been careful to avoid getting overly involved in Court politics. The Court, so long as one pays tithe and avoids breaking the Concealment Edict, really doesn't care.
On the other hand, the injustice of the Court rankles Antonio, and he's happy to see it gone. But he has a regard for human life that most lycanthropes don't, and is one of the few standing against Nemsemet.
Possessions:A nice house, inherited from his deceased parents that isn't really safe to stay in any more. He's socked away money wisely invested, as well as his considerable salary as the CEO of Horizon. He has a particularly nice 1969 Pontiac Firebird and a shotgun at home that, quite frankly, he doesn't use.
He has a nice cell phone though and some authentic Vietnamese Buddhist prayer beads he picked up in the 1990's when he travelled back to 'Nam to make his peace with the past. They have supernatural significance that he doesn't really understand.
Yes, and: ...Flint and Antonio had a run-in in 1987 or so, when Flint suspected Antonio in a grisly series of murders that involved the consumption of corpses after digging into his Vietnam War history. Antonio was charged by the court, though his innocence was proven when the murders continued with him in custody. Flint and Antonio worked together grudgingly to catch the werewolf family responsible for it, but there's no love lost there. |
46,636 | 1,263 | 160 | 2,534 | 450 | I know I'm a fuckin' toddla, bu' I'm still fat! Parry yelped, stoping one foot against the bare floor for emphasis. Thankfully, despite his jeans being in a pile around him his boxers were held up by the barest length around his pudgy middle. But only just.
"An' bein' fat is worse than bein' a toddla! I mean, I can still make magic wawds t' help you guys. An' I can still talk an walk. But my BMI is cwazy wight now!"
He spun on one heel toward Tony, murder in his toddler eyes and baby teeth bared in a snarl.
"Mothafucka! I can still eat cheewios!" Parry patted an arm on his Gucci diaper bag where it lay right on the floor. Inside he'd stashed enough items to care for a small army of toddlers and a few adults too- nothing that would particularly help them against Nemsemet, but he was sure to have extra clothes, food and other necessary bits. He reached inside with one arm and pulled out a large onesie, socks, a baby sling and some pull-ups.
"I'm gonna go get dwessed. Lemme know when we goin' an' I'll get some magic wawds on evewyone."
With that, Parry stomped out of the room, dragging his Gucci bag behind him and leaving his old jeans in a pile on the floor. He gave Tony one last murder glance on the way out, but headed for his own room to change. Was he embarrassed at his new physical state? Not really. He was going to kill Gordon when he met the guy, but for the moment he was dead set on making sure he could still help the group instead of being a total burden. Since the ritual left him still able to talk, Parry could offer advice and knowledge to everyone present, and his motor skills were still mostly intact. Given some markers he could inscribe wards of protection on everyone to keep them from suffering similar or different fates.
"Cym's pwobwy waffing at me wight now," Parry grumbled as he got to his room across the hallway. He shucked his old boxers and stuffed them in the Gucci bag, pulled the baby blue onesie over his head, and tried to get the Pull-Ups on- only to find they were too big.
Parry gave a defeated sigh, reached into his Gucci bag for some Huggies, and said "Gonna fuckin' kill Gordon for this..." | Name: Parael Magnus
Age: 777
Gender: Androgynous (often answers to male pronouns)
Breed: Retired Celestial ('Nephilim')
Physical Description: (Because I can never get pictures to work right >.< )
Parael stands just shy of 6 feet tall, near 130lbs, with long golden hair grown down to his shoulders, often done up in a ponytail. When working at his center he's dressed in ragged jeans and a clean vest with a diaper bag over his shoulder. On the streets he often wears a button up vest, while channeling his powers can reveal ethereal wings that no longer physically exist.
Talents:
Parael lost most of his Celestial powers after he retired and became Nephilim, but he has picked up a few skills here and there since becoming half human...
- Divine Light: Normally deadly and natural to a full Celestial, Parael was taught to channel Divine power through his human hands roughly 500 years ago. Through human conjuring, this power is little more than a bright and hot flare.
- Glamour: By necessity, Parael has learned to harness human illusion powers to maintain glamours around himself and his place of business, disguising himself against mortal eyes.
History:
Parael doesn't like to discuss his history from before his retirement to the human world ("I abhor getting involved with all the human dogma over whose Creator is right. You all need to stop worrying your lovely faces about that and get to the business of living!") But certain individuals believe that he was present shortly after the moment of creation, this revelation coming from nights involving too much alcohol and pillow talk- and as with all such talk, could easily be a fabrication. Whatever precipitated Parael to hang up his wings in the Middle Ages is between Parael and whatever Celestial ordered him around at the time.
After coming down to Earth in the Far East during the Middle Ages and being tutored in human culture by a Chinese dragon, Parael hitch-hiked across the silk road with a Djinni caravan, partied in Europe among the Faerie courts through the Renaissance, sailed across the Atlantic to South America to run with were-jaguars during the Age of Exploration, chillaxed in the Caribbean with wizard cabals through to the 1800s, and finally settled in New Camden during the modern era. It wasn't until settling Camden that he actually began to buy into the tributary system and managed to cultivate a number of relationships with the ruling council of the city ("'Cultivate' is such a cleaned up word, darling! I got around. A lot.")
Celestial blood is a much desired commodity in the magical world, being used for anything from spell components in Elixers of Life to psychotropic drugs for werewolves. His identity as a Celestial would be impossible to conceal forever, so Parael worked out a deal with the city's vampire leader Caradoc de Lacy to provide a certain tithe of blood every month, allowing the vampire to store and imbibe it whenever he liked- negating the deadliness of sunlight to the city's leader for a few hours at a time. Being able to surprise his foes at high noon while they plotted against him was a boon the vampire couldn't afford to pass up. Caradoc, meanwhile, protected Parael's identity as a Celestial from the general supernatural population, eliminating anyone who got too close to the truth of how he could move about during daylight hours.
This protection became doubly handy when, in the Moral Panic of the 1980s, the human city council tried to shut down Parael's daycare center under the pretense of "protecting children from the homosexual menace." Caradoc stepped up and bullied the council into keeping away, but the Celestial soon found himself in deeper debt to Caradoc for the intercession.
Caradoc's human rival, Baroness Augusta, a wizard with an arsenal of magic at her disposal, lost three magi trying to discern how Caradoc could move about seemingly at random during the day. When she discovered the existence of Parael, the two leaders called a council to discuss his presence in Camden. Parael doesn't know what accord they came to, but the inquiries from the city's wizards did stop.
To the supernatural "public" of Camden, Parael is still an eccentric magi who is good with kids and operates out of a daycare center on the East Side. Parael pays tribute by watching over the children of other paranormals, occasionally enchanting them with glamour to pass under mortal gaze when not in full control of their powers; and most importantly, by his blood tithe to the Prince ("And judging by how Baroness Augusta's wrinkled face is looking, the covens are getting a cut too. Unless that's Botox she's taking and I'm wrong.")
With the arrival of Nemsemet and the eradication of the Count and his court, Parael is feeling the pressure whether to go underground or to step up and fight. Coming out of retirement is not in the cards, as a full Celestial entering battle with Nemsemet may emerge victorious, but the clash could level the city of New Camden and everyone in it. For now his daycare center has turned into nothing less than a fortified bunker with wizards and faeries placing wards all over the grounds to protect their next generation from the wrath of Nemsemet...
Psychological Profile:
Parael is a bubbly, flirtatious individual who is absolutely enthralled with the modern mortal world. The iPhone is a greater wonder than all the stars in the sky ("Except for Orion, that sly stud!"). His identity as an ex-Celestial is a closely guarded secret however, and he is supremely sensitive to anyone bringing up the idea that he could be one.
Possessions:
Parael travels light in his day-to-day work. He always has a slick, designer diaper bag on hand from which he pulls all manner of items including toys, food, spellbooks and extra clothes. Buried beneath the floorboards in his bedroom is a dirty, dented iron longsword which he treats with all the reverence of a Colt .45 when in hand.
He does keep an enormous collection of mementos in his apartment. He still has a silk robe which he picked up from his landing in China, which he often lays about in during his off hours, a set of jeweled earrings from India during his trek across the Silk Road, a silver Fairy Sword he got from the Queen of Spring in a tournament ("I'm not bragging, but it was actually the prize in a beauty contest."), and a collection of Obsidian daggers and war clubs during his time in the South American jungles with the were-panthers ("I've yet to find better steak knives and meat tenderizers!").
Yes, and: Parael Magnus hunkered down right after the appearance of the dread Nemsemet, warding his daycare center to try and hide the fact that he was a Celestial from the enemy and providing a place of safety for anyone else who needed a way to lay low... |
46,637 | 1,263 | 161 | 2,377 | 482 | Beth stood just inside the door, listening to the bits and pieces they had on Gordon pass around. It wasn't nearly enough. They moved forward too slowly, and their leads were too ambiguous; she felt like slamming her head against the wall. One thing became clear, however: if they wanted to get to Nemsemet, they needed to get to Gordon first. In the very least, going after Rikker got them that much.
She watched the vampire move and caught sight of Parael hovering an inch or so off the floor when she turned her head back. Beth stepped forward, tried to manipulate the kinetic energy around him, to bring him back to earth or just to figure out what what happening, but found it impossible. Whatever lifted him, and whatever began to shrink him, it was far beyond her abilities.
Unprepared for the sounds of agony that came forth next, she stepped back and flickered into intangibility.
"You make a cute kid, at least," she muttered after the initial shock passed. Her face remained pinched by a frown despite her tone. His tantrum might have been adorable if she didn't know better. The onesie was definitely going to make it difficult to take Parry seriously, but it helped.
Once he and Tony left the room, Beth glanced at the rest of them, and followed. "I know some folks we might be able to pull more information from." It was her niche, how she put herself back on the map after death. She might not know much about Charles Gordon, but she had contacts in every corner, dead and alive and some undefined. "You and the girl, and whoever else you might need, find out what our dear Count kept so guarded." She didn't have to tell him to scout the place first, yet she couldn't help feeling the need to give the warning. She tried not to think about why that might be. "If Rikive sees fit, I'll do what I can on the Gordon front. I've a feeling Autumn might be useful there, too."
She looked back towards the others. Separating them increased their vulnerability, but sticking together wherever they went made them one fat target, and the faster they worked, the better. She itched to get outside and do something. | Name: Rikive Heimdalsdóttir
Age: ?
Gender: Female
Breed/Species/Type/Lineage: Deity
Physical Description:
Talents:-Hand to hand combat (including 'god like' speed and strength)
-Extraordinary eyesight (in light or dark), heightened hearing and extremely high endurance
-Healing magic
History:Rikive is the daughter of the God Heimdall and an elven maiden named, Alfrún. She spent most of her life in Asgard, in the hall of her father. She had always been curious about Midgard, but finally came to the mortal realm due to the encouragement of her father.
When she came to Midgard she did not know nor understanding the rules of how the supernatural were to interact with human society. For the most part she had done well adjusting to modern life, it wasn’t the first time a god had gone to Midgard to pretend to be human. She had picked up on certain social norms, but some had escaped her notice. She had learned rather harshly that duels of honor were not accepted anymore.
One unfortunate encounter with a particularly obnoxious man, he lost one hand and she was the one arrested.
That one incident and she found herself in debt to the system set up to keep order with supernatural beings. Some had told her to merely run and return to Asgard, but she stubbornly denied such an idea. She would repay her debt as she was honor bound to do.
A few times she had been tempted to make the debt dwindle a little faster using...less than savory means. She was strong and skilled, certain operations would have paid her a lot of money to provide them with protection. However she always refused, it wasn’t right.
Psychological Profile:Quiet, reflective, and idealistic. Interested in serving humanity. Well-developed value system, which she strives to live in accordance with. Extremely loyal. Adaptable and laid-back unless something she holds in high regard is challenged. Mentally quick, and able to see possibilities. Interested in understanding and helping people.
Possessions:-Winterthorn an enchanted blade, it's powers/abilities:
- Sheath transforms into a viking round shield
Yes, and:When Rikive first arrived to Camden and she was still adjusting to modern human society, she met Parael by chance. He proved to be a great teacher (in his own fun, flamboyant manner), helping her to adapt to Midgard as it is now and she considers him a good friend. She is currently helping him by standing as protection and keeping watch for his daycare center. |
46,638 | 1,263 | 162 | 1,012 | 4,032 | Rikive shut her eyes and took in a deep breath. "Yes, Beth." She answered, opening her eyes again and looking over to the spirit. "Do what you have to and I'll ask Autumn to do the same. If she isn't already doing it." She said to her before turning to the others. "Alright, I guess we don't have much choice." She sighed, putting her hands on her hips.
"To the warehouse we go, but this time we are going to have a plan and we are going to stick with it." In fact, they were going to have to make a few plans, of course not in the presence of their new vampire 'friend'. | Name: Antonio Victor Barnes
Age: 65
Gender: Male
Breed/Species/Type/Lineage: Lycanthrope; were-lion.
Talents:- Beastman form; deadly and effective, but terrifying and very, very, very obvious. It is a combination of a Lion's instincts and muscle density and natural equipment with the upright stature of a human being and a degree of their thought processes melded with the instinct of the animal. It is monstrous and the reason the legends exist.
- Full African lion form - like the cat. Not nearly as useful as, say, a wolf form that could be written off as a dog.
- Fast-healing in man-beast. In other forms, he takes damage normally.
- If hit with anything silver, he is immediately shifted back into normal human form. Also, if a silver bullet is in him, he is unable to shift.
- Rage; in enough pain, he'll see red and there is the potential to start killing indiscriminately to escape this. On the other hand, he's had years to learn how to control this.
- As the moon cycles, his abilities wax and wane; at full moon, he has a hard time controlling said abilities. Nearer the new moon, he finds it requires an extra degree of effort to use his abilities and he tends to tire out easier.
- Even as a human, he has increased senses that allows him to detect things with his nose; for example, sweat and various other secretions, and where they are emotionally based on that. It's a combination of animal magnetism and animal instinct.
History:Antonio Victor Barnes was born to a Afro-Cuban mother and a half-white father in New Camden, in the Dorset neighborhood, which was once home to the Cardinal's Point General Motors factory. His father, Joe, had a good job there, though he worked very hard for it. He'd come to Camden from Virginia. His mother had very little to say about the country she left or the circumstances back there.
In 1967 Uncle Sam decided to draft Antonio into the Vietnam War. He arrived in December of 1967 and saw service right as the Tet Offensive started up in February of 1968. He served in the 9th Infantry Division in the Mekong Delta, fighting near the Cambodian border. Serving as a cherry (replacement) in his new platoon, he served for five months of his tour, watching guys get blown up by booby traps, wounded by mortar fire, shot by Cong and NVA and otherwise chopped up in a futile-seeming war in the jungle; waist deep in the muck of the Mekong Delta. His battalion suffered repeated Viet Cong and NLF/PAVN attacks one night and the next put his company out on the outpost line, which was then overrun by a particularly savage attack by the Vietnamese. Terrified, with his squad dying and dead around him in the jungle night, he changed into the man-beast form and mauled a number of VC and NVA regulars, even as the A-6 Intruders dropped napalm and cluster bombs all over the jungle when the company CO called down the strikes inside his box, on top of the heads of friendlies.
His position took a hit, but he survived, to the astonishment of the reinforcements combing over the battlefield, policing up the weapons and the mauled bodies; the Vietnamese were dumped into a mass grave, the Americans taken to graves registration. But no one could figure up what tore up all these people -- some of the bodies were ripped to shreds.
"Shrapnel, napalm, fuckit," they said.
Barnes was MIA.
He spent time in the jungle, hunting, killing and learning his abilities, and eventually had a sense of how to control them enough to shift back to human form and find help. During that time, the legends were rife in VI Corps and Viet Cong alike of a killer tiger running about in the Delta, a huge, dangerous beast. So it was considered a miracle when he finally was found by the Army; presumed to have escaped POW captivity among the Viet Cong as well as the man-eater of the Mekong, he was evacuated out and then honorably discharged at the end of his draft service in Fort Polk.
His return to the World, coincided with the start of economic hard times in Camden, especially as Cardinal's Point started to lay people off and he flirted around with various dissident movements like the Black Panthers and other organizations that were concerned with the plight of the black man in America, especially after Vietnam. Every full moon, there was the potential for devastation and destruction, and he isolated himself to keep from having another situation where he killed people indiscriminately.
He bummed around the country and, ironically, ran into the Courts in New Orleans of all places, where the supernatural are able to move about a little more freely, and the mortals know a little more than they ought to. His girlfriend at the time, Marie, a Creole, introduced him to the Courts and the supernatural community, though she was somewhat shaky on how things worked because she wasn't entirely clued in, but steered him to people who definitely were.
He learned that he wasn't alone, wasn't the only one and there was a world out there with laws...and that if his black ass felt discriminated against before, wait until he met the Nobles of the courts.
New Orleans wasn't the worst place to lay up and learn things, the Court there was not one of the worst and he used his GI benefits to enroll in Tulane University, where he majored in social work, and carried that into a Master's in Business Administration while working in social work all over the State of Louisiana, where it was needed.
In the course of time, he returned to Camden when his father got sick to help take care of his parents, sometime in the early 1980's, and found that that Camden was as economically depressed as New Orleans. He quickly got to work with local activists and other like minded folk and started trying to find ways to work the system and rebuild the thriving middle class neighborhood he lived in, even as yuppie white fuckers exported all the jobs to places like China, and, ironically, Vietnam.
Fast forward decades later, and Antonio still looks rather young (magical energy tends to sustain a longer lifespan anyway) and has no idea how long his life is going to be, but he's spent a lot of it building the Horizon Foundation, a large not-for-profit that is devoted to preserving New Camden's cultural history and finding new ways to turn old buildings into something profitable within the community as well as retraining and employing locals, particularly out of economically depressed areas like his native Dorset. He paid his tithe, avoided Court politics and was trying to do something good with his life when Nemsemet came to town.
Not liking the injustice of the Court, he didn't really care what Nemsemet did to the likes of Caradoc de Lacy. The only problem is, of course, that Nemsemet is a crazy motherfucker and he's not stopping there. . He's also rallied a lot of lycanthropes to the cause, men and women that are a lot less controlled than Antonio is, raised in clans together that distrust the outside world and are indoctrinated against normal humanity. It's understandable, they've been hunted, persecuted and have lived on the margins. Antonio has some sway with them, in that they are not enthusiastically hunting one of their own, but they aren't listening when he tries to rally these various lycanthrope clans.
Nemsemet is bad news. Now he's on the run like a lot of other people.
Psychological Profile:Deep down, Barnes is still guilty about what he did in Vietnam, flying off the handle, killing a bunch of people indiscriminately. While time has healed some of it, he left the 'Nam resolved to do something worthy and good with the rest of his life, and got into the nitty gritty of social work and entepreneurial neighborhood development. He's always been careful to avoid getting overly involved in Court politics. The Court, so long as one pays tithe and avoids breaking the Concealment Edict, really doesn't care.
On the other hand, the injustice of the Court rankles Antonio, and he's happy to see it gone. But he has a regard for human life that most lycanthropes don't, and is one of the few standing against Nemsemet.
Possessions:A nice house, inherited from his deceased parents that isn't really safe to stay in any more. He's socked away money wisely invested, as well as his considerable salary as the CEO of Horizon. He has a particularly nice 1969 Pontiac Firebird and a shotgun at home that, quite frankly, he doesn't use.
He has a nice cell phone though and some authentic Vietnamese Buddhist prayer beads he picked up in the 1990's when he travelled back to 'Nam to make his peace with the past. They have supernatural significance that he doesn't really understand.
Yes, and: ...Flint and Antonio had a run-in in 1987 or so, when Flint suspected Antonio in a grisly series of murders that involved the consumption of corpses after digging into his Vietnam War history. Antonio was charged by the court, though his innocence was proven when the murders continued with him in custody. Flint and Antonio worked together grudgingly to catch the werewolf family responsible for it, but there's no love lost there. |
46,639 | 1,263 | 163 | 2,534 | 450 | Parry had tried to be patient with Tony and the others as they left the bunker deep underground. He really had. But this... this was beyond absurd.
The onesie, while infantile, was still made by Calvin Klein, so he could in fact be caught dead wearing it. See also the Crock shoes he wore dangling from his feet. And he could suffer through the Huggies, seeing as they were all part of the facade in the first place. The baby sling around Tony's shoulders was uncomfortable, but it worked for transportation purposes.
It was the fact that even as an adult Parry's mind and mouth had a tendency to wander, leaving him babbling on completely without a cause or care in the world during their drive here, that made Tony reach into Parry's bag and (much to Parry's surprise) remove a pacifier before shoving it in Parry's mouth. That had set Parry in a cross mood for two reasons: first, he didn't like being told (much less forced) to shut up, and second, his beloved bag should only ever answer his call. Why had it responded to Tony?
He didn't have long to contemplate that fact since they parked the cars outside the Holzberg manner and stood awaiting the night's trials and tribulations. Parry shivered just looking at the place. He might not be a fully grown angel any more, but the spirits here were far from settled and the place stank of raw magic. Anything could be inside those gates- werewolves, witches, even Russians- and Parry wouldn't know it.
"Fow the wecowd," Parry grumbled after removing the pacifier, fidgeting in his sling as he looked up at Tony, "baby fat makes a bad human shiewd. I won't stop any buwwets coming youw way."
Which gave Parry an idea, if a small one.
"Can you weach in the bag an' get me a mawkew? I can't cut off heads, but I can stiw dwaw wawds on you guys." | Name: Parael Magnus
Age: 777
Gender: Androgynous (often answers to male pronouns)
Breed: Retired Celestial ('Nephilim')
Physical Description: (Because I can never get pictures to work right >.< )
Parael stands just shy of 6 feet tall, near 130lbs, with long golden hair grown down to his shoulders, often done up in a ponytail. When working at his center he's dressed in ragged jeans and a clean vest with a diaper bag over his shoulder. On the streets he often wears a button up vest, while channeling his powers can reveal ethereal wings that no longer physically exist.
Talents:
Parael lost most of his Celestial powers after he retired and became Nephilim, but he has picked up a few skills here and there since becoming half human...
- Divine Light: Normally deadly and natural to a full Celestial, Parael was taught to channel Divine power through his human hands roughly 500 years ago. Through human conjuring, this power is little more than a bright and hot flare.
- Glamour: By necessity, Parael has learned to harness human illusion powers to maintain glamours around himself and his place of business, disguising himself against mortal eyes.
History:
Parael doesn't like to discuss his history from before his retirement to the human world ("I abhor getting involved with all the human dogma over whose Creator is right. You all need to stop worrying your lovely faces about that and get to the business of living!") But certain individuals believe that he was present shortly after the moment of creation, this revelation coming from nights involving too much alcohol and pillow talk- and as with all such talk, could easily be a fabrication. Whatever precipitated Parael to hang up his wings in the Middle Ages is between Parael and whatever Celestial ordered him around at the time.
After coming down to Earth in the Far East during the Middle Ages and being tutored in human culture by a Chinese dragon, Parael hitch-hiked across the silk road with a Djinni caravan, partied in Europe among the Faerie courts through the Renaissance, sailed across the Atlantic to South America to run with were-jaguars during the Age of Exploration, chillaxed in the Caribbean with wizard cabals through to the 1800s, and finally settled in New Camden during the modern era. It wasn't until settling Camden that he actually began to buy into the tributary system and managed to cultivate a number of relationships with the ruling council of the city ("'Cultivate' is such a cleaned up word, darling! I got around. A lot.")
Celestial blood is a much desired commodity in the magical world, being used for anything from spell components in Elixers of Life to psychotropic drugs for werewolves. His identity as a Celestial would be impossible to conceal forever, so Parael worked out a deal with the city's vampire leader Caradoc de Lacy to provide a certain tithe of blood every month, allowing the vampire to store and imbibe it whenever he liked- negating the deadliness of sunlight to the city's leader for a few hours at a time. Being able to surprise his foes at high noon while they plotted against him was a boon the vampire couldn't afford to pass up. Caradoc, meanwhile, protected Parael's identity as a Celestial from the general supernatural population, eliminating anyone who got too close to the truth of how he could move about during daylight hours.
This protection became doubly handy when, in the Moral Panic of the 1980s, the human city council tried to shut down Parael's daycare center under the pretense of "protecting children from the homosexual menace." Caradoc stepped up and bullied the council into keeping away, but the Celestial soon found himself in deeper debt to Caradoc for the intercession.
Caradoc's human rival, Baroness Augusta, a wizard with an arsenal of magic at her disposal, lost three magi trying to discern how Caradoc could move about seemingly at random during the day. When she discovered the existence of Parael, the two leaders called a council to discuss his presence in Camden. Parael doesn't know what accord they came to, but the inquiries from the city's wizards did stop.
To the supernatural "public" of Camden, Parael is still an eccentric magi who is good with kids and operates out of a daycare center on the East Side. Parael pays tribute by watching over the children of other paranormals, occasionally enchanting them with glamour to pass under mortal gaze when not in full control of their powers; and most importantly, by his blood tithe to the Prince ("And judging by how Baroness Augusta's wrinkled face is looking, the covens are getting a cut too. Unless that's Botox she's taking and I'm wrong.")
With the arrival of Nemsemet and the eradication of the Count and his court, Parael is feeling the pressure whether to go underground or to step up and fight. Coming out of retirement is not in the cards, as a full Celestial entering battle with Nemsemet may emerge victorious, but the clash could level the city of New Camden and everyone in it. For now his daycare center has turned into nothing less than a fortified bunker with wizards and faeries placing wards all over the grounds to protect their next generation from the wrath of Nemsemet...
Psychological Profile:
Parael is a bubbly, flirtatious individual who is absolutely enthralled with the modern mortal world. The iPhone is a greater wonder than all the stars in the sky ("Except for Orion, that sly stud!"). His identity as an ex-Celestial is a closely guarded secret however, and he is supremely sensitive to anyone bringing up the idea that he could be one.
Possessions:
Parael travels light in his day-to-day work. He always has a slick, designer diaper bag on hand from which he pulls all manner of items including toys, food, spellbooks and extra clothes. Buried beneath the floorboards in his bedroom is a dirty, dented iron longsword which he treats with all the reverence of a Colt .45 when in hand.
He does keep an enormous collection of mementos in his apartment. He still has a silk robe which he picked up from his landing in China, which he often lays about in during his off hours, a set of jeweled earrings from India during his trek across the Silk Road, a silver Fairy Sword he got from the Queen of Spring in a tournament ("I'm not bragging, but it was actually the prize in a beauty contest."), and a collection of Obsidian daggers and war clubs during his time in the South American jungles with the were-panthers ("I've yet to find better steak knives and meat tenderizers!").
Yes, and: Parael Magnus hunkered down right after the appearance of the dread Nemsemet, warding his daycare center to try and hide the fact that he was a Celestial from the enemy and providing a place of safety for anyone else who needed a way to lay low... |
46,640 | 1,263 | 164 | 2,246 | 3,527 | Flint turned off the engine to his car and opened the door, standing outside too the view of the twisting manor that they were here to investigate. Flicking his cigarette butt on the floor, he walked over to the boot of his car and removed a violin case from within, he then went to the van to meet with the group.
“What the hell are we doing here again?” Flint asked, going for another cigarette as he clicked his fingers to a flame, placing the violin case beside him. He had been here before, quite a while back now. A few vampire cases here and there, he wasn’t pleased to be back. Too many ‘modern gangsters’ in recent times. Nothing like what Flint used to be, no style, no honour and no respect, and they couldn’t shoot for shit.
“What’s the Plan?” He asked Rikive as he leant on the van, smoking his cigarette leisurely. If it was his decision, he would be going in alone. Using the knife on his belt to quickly and silently take out any guards that stood nearby, when he found what they where looking for he would either pick it up or if it where too heavy to simply take he would use his air manipulative powers to raise it a few inches from the ground and glide out of the manor. | Name: Flint White
Age: 125 (looks mid 20's)
Gender: Male
Breed/Species/Type/Lineage: Elemental Sorcerer.
Talents:
Firearms training
Elemental magic (Controlling and conjuring of earth, fire, water, air)
Police Procedure
Detective work
Hand to Hand combat
Interrogation
Quick witted
History:
Flint was born in 1895, he led a normal life in Camden until he was conscripted into World War One. After the war, life didn't seem as precious anymore and he joined with a local mob boss. The gang told him of his magical abilities, which he had no idea he had, and began having him work for them in robberies.
His shenanigans caught the attention of the magical courts. They soon captured him and they explained the world that sat under his nose, they explained that it was magic that kept him young, that his parents had died horribly to an unknown attack. Flint was lost, and not knowing what to do he left Camden just in time for Conscription to scoop him up for World War Two.
More war and Flint was on his last thread, he returned to Camden and began Private investigation, it was ok work and helped pay for the taxes. Flint got his big break when the Court asked for him to join their police force, he accepted and soon rose the ranks to detective. Magical police work was a lot more intriguing than normal private work, and he was good at it.
Then it all went to hell.
Flint survived the first purges, but has been in hiding for awhile now. However he has begun to raise an army. A poster here, a leaflet there all signifying a meet up of those who wish to stop the current 'leader'.
Psychological Profile:
Harsh, Quick witted, scheming and cold hearted. Flint was normally one to work alone, but the new order of things means he will have to begin working with others if they are going to stop the main threat. He wont take orders from anyone, but he isn't an idiot, and can be persuaded to do things if its for the best.
He is a long standing alcoholic, and it is rare to see him without a bottle on his person, many believe his way of work is inhumane, and he prefers to act first before asking questions.
More than likely not all there in his head, due to the terrible things he has seen in and out of war.
Possessions:
.44 Magnum revolver in shoulder holster.
An array of legal and illegal weapons he keeps at his current safe house, most are pre 1950's however.
Smudge, the cat.
Yes and
Flint knew about Beth through her criminal connections, and was on her tail at every corner until she spoilt all the fun and died.
When she was placed in the court he wasn't pleased, not just because of her past crimes but also because of the moral grounds on controlling others. |
46,641 | 1,263 | 165 | 2,356 | 5,042 | Rikive stared out into the park, looking into every shadow, crevice and nook she could. Searching for hidden enemies that were waiting to ambush them. She was brimming with energy again and ready for another fight. It was amazing the difference resting for a few hours could make. That and eating as much food as she could before they had to leave.
So long as she didn't have to use her magic to bring someone back from the brink of death, she was good to go.
Rikive resisted the urge to sigh when Flint posed his question. They had already gone over this, but Flint had been pretty intoxicated when they were planning."You really should cut back on drinking." She suggested, pulling a marker out of her back pocket to give to Parael.
"We're going to going up to this place quietly." She explained, holding out her hand for Parael to draw the ward on. "We're going to split up and scout the place to see if anyone is home. We meet up again in no less than fifteen minutes, report our findings and then we'll head inside. Of course if there are guards we'll need to coordinate an attack. No one is going off alone though so pick someone to watch your back."
She turned her head to look at the woman that brought them here. "I'll be pairing up with Kaori." | Name: Claudia Laurel
Age: 23 (Physically) 62 (In reality)
Gender: Female
Breed/Species/Type/Lineage: Half-Demon
Physical Description:
Talents:
-Using Firearms
-Hand to hand combat
-Stalking/Sneaking
-Controlling fire
-Parkour
-Faster Healing
History:
Claudia was born in 1953, into a prominent family of demons due to an affair between a demon woman and a human. Her family had wealth, power, and most important of all, reputation. Her birth was not wanted by the elders, seeing as her parents were both young, and the fact that Claudia was a half-demon, which were considered disgraces and looked down upon. Claudia's grandfather, Harriet Laurel, decided that Claudia and her father were to be executed. Claudia's mother didn't want this, and helped her daughter disappear, along with Claudia's father. They began a new life (on earth) in America as James Williams and his young daughter, Claudia Williams.
Two years later, Her father was drafted into the Vietnam war at the age of twenty. Claudia was sent to live with her aunt in Virginia, and spent the next twenty years staying there, waiting for her father to return. He never did. Her family was informed of his death, and Claudia received his possessions. In a trunk was a stack of letters, mostly love letters between her mother and father. After digging through the trunk and reading the old letters, she came upon addressed to her, from her parents. The letter told her all about her heritage and why she didn't have a mother with her.Claudia had hoped to get in touch with them, but was not able to enter their world and when summoned, they rejected her because she was a 'Halfling'.
Left with no where to go, she wandered until one she walked in on two people fighting. One pulled out a gun to shoot the other, and Claudia threw the nearest thing she could find at the man, which happened to her shoe. The man ran off not wanting to be seen, and the other, Tom, introduced himself. The two became quick friends, both having no where to go. They lived off the streets, and eventually joined a gang. The two became tangled in a web of crimes and violence, and Tom decide that they needed to learn to defend themselves. They became more active in the gang learning from the other members how to fight, and later how to kill. Claudia and Tom advanced from just people taken under their wing to some of the most able members.
Eventually the gang was busted, and Claudia escaped with Tom. They moved to New Camden, and decided to try to lay low. It didn't work out, as they were in desperate need of money, and Claudia ended up taking jobs which weren't quite legal. She eventually got arrested for vehicular manslaughter, of all things. She was sentenced to five years in prison. When she was let out on probation, she discovered that Tom had passed away. With nothing left, Claudia became a servant for a supernatural household in the court. When Nemsemet took over, her master was killed, along with his family. Claudia was given two choices. Join his side or die. She did what she thought every sane person would have done, and chose not to die. She needed the money anyway. She now works as a servant/hitman for Nemsemet, and though she may not like it, money always comes first. And her dog.
Psychological Profile:
Due to her history, Claudia is very pessimistic. She doesn't believe in the whole 'heart of gold' thing, and distrusts everyone around her. She doesn't like to show emotion, believing they are weaknesses. She believes that the court and the wealthy families in New Camden are all corrupt, but also thinks that Nemsemet is the same.
Claudia has two 'modes', in place of emotions. There's stoic and uncaring, and then theres angry. When taking out targets, she remains cold and collected, but her anger can be triggered easily; she is sensitive about her family, and will physically harm anyone who insults her parents. She is also angered by the social hierarchy of fullbloods and halfbloods. Although she is willing to kill in cold blood, she is not merciless. She prefers to take people out quickly and painlessly, and if you give her good reason not to do something, she'll listen to you. Although it's hard to get her to trust you, if she believes in your cause then she will remain loyal.
Possessions:
A silver ring, which hides her identity as a supernatural creature, given to her by her mother. Two handguns, Several knives, and a sniper rifle. Has extras at her 'home', which is actually an abandoned building. A large husky she adopted off the streets. The closest thing she's ever had to a familiar.
Yes, and:
Claudia met Karram when she was sent to court for vehicular manslaughter. He was one of the people who helped get her a shortened sentence. She has mixed feelings about him. On one hand, he shortened her punishment, on the other hand, he still sent her to prison.
Now though, they're going to meet under much different circumstances. Karram is one of the people she has been requested to kill, so thats awkward.
(I didn't really know what to do here ^, so it can be changed.) |
46,642 | 1,263 | 166 | 1,650 | 715 | Gray stretched and yawned as he climbed out of the car. Leaving his shotgun on its sling he slipped his mask on again. "I'm all game for the plan but what exactly do you think is in there? It helps to risk your life when you have some clue what your looking for otherwise this ends up being a hunt for a questing beast."
The manor was quite large and he couldn't tell from here if there was an active power source inside or if it was running dark. With its history it could very well have cameras inside and a security room. This would all go faster if they could figure out what's inside and get out. There was something eerie about the place. The gargoyles on the roof were certainly part of it. Their textures seemed too realistic and detailed. Clouds rolled across the sky like swarming phantoms. It was going to get wet. | Name: Gray Conover
Age: 31
Gender: Male
Species: Human
Physical Description:
Gray stands at 5'11. He is broad-shouldered and lanky, his advantage against his enemies is obviously not brute strength yet he has exercised thoroughly to try to make up some of the difference if he ever has to get that close. He has a long face and a pointed chin and hazel eyes, characteristics that seems to run in his family. His hair color is dark brown and he has mutton chops and doesn't bother to manage his hair so it stands pretty unkempt. He keeps it just short enough in the front that it won't become a problem in combat.
Talents:
Creative Combatant - Gray is a very experienced killer and it comes mainly from his ability to think on his feet and react quickly. Even without weapons on his person he can figure out ways to kill something by using his environment and playing dirty. He certainly doesn't hold back on the playing dirty part which might irk off those noble vampires or whatever the hell else thinks they have some kind of fair fighting spirit in combat. It's always life or death and Gray doesn't plan on being the one dying.
Broad Monster Knowledge - Gray knows how to kill all the common creeps. Werewolves, vampires, zombies(Those are the easy ones), etc. It comes from a personal history of doing just that. If he can't kill it he'll get away and study for some way to do so. After all, his hefty pay check rides on this important task.
Extensive Arms Experience - Gray is both a military veteran and an arms enthusiast. As such he has both experience and extensive practice with firearms. Having talent and practice make him a very accurate shot with long weapons in particular.
History:
Killing monsters runs in the family and family is what really matters. Gray grew up with values, often unapparent to others, that keep him from going too far in the field. He grew up with several brothers and a sister and for the earliest part of his life had no idea what his family really did. They sheltered him from it until he was ready to know the truth. That truth didn't come until it was nearly too late.
Gray joined the military. He was in the army on tour in the middle east when he encountered his first taste of the supernatural world. They seemed like normal middle-eastern villagers. Lured into their village on their patrol, Gray's team didn't pose a very good chance. They had the resilience and constitution of ghouls. Meaning they wouldn't go down without a good headshot or leg shot. Most of his team was felled by their inhuman stamina with mere farm tools. Their adversary was quick and dangerous but he had and the remainder of his squad had the resolve to survive. It wasn't until later that he understood what they were. They weren't undead. They were the "blessed warriors" of a demonic duke known as Abigor that had been piggybacking on wars and feeding off of them since iron was used as a weapon. It made sense why he'd be making his rounds in the most war torn nation in the world.
On his return to the States Gray reunited with his family. Upon hearing his experience they began to explain to him the finer parts of their history. The Conover's have been killing monsters for nearly two-hundred years. Gray had a legacy he was willing to uphold.
Unfortunately that legacy was difficult to acquire with the councils of creatures banded together throughout the world. With the councils keeping everything in check his family didn't indulge in hunting so much anymore. The councils were a necessary evil but they were still monsters and Gray couldn't personally trust them to keep things steady. He needed a group that would let him bypass getting a hit on his head by an organization that vastly overpowered him. It took a while and he took up jobs killing rogue beasts in the process which the council overlooked because of the nature of the cases. He wasn't that good at first. Not many people are. The evil monsters that let themselves be tracked by an amateur are generally the easiest to kill. Gray had mistakes and near-death experiences but his resolve and ingenuity always had the tendency to save him.
When you're feeling hand over hand through the dark you always find something.
Psychological Profile: Gray seems to be morally ambiguous to people who don't know him. To those who do, they see the bold line he won't cross. If a creature isn't a killer and has no potential to be he won't take its life. He sees many jobs he's taken as necessary evil to protect humanity. Overall he views himself as a protector, but damn if he doesn't like a good paycheck.
Gray loves humor in all its forms. He'd be pretty depressing if he couldn't take a good joke every now and then. Even if it's completely misplaced and awkward.
Possessions:
Gray has two large suitcases that are normally too heavy for normal airport admittance. One stores his set of armor. The armor is customizable on the job with many spots for Kevlar inserts, a bite guard, a helmet and a few other minor items to help him adapt to circumstances. Teeth, claws or (preferably not) bullets. He's got something to give him some edge.
Aside from a few spots in the first suitcase for some Glocks and ammunition (Affordability, you lose guns a lot when you're hunting.) he has saved room in his other suitcase for a few sets of street clothes(primarily gray t-shirts, blue jeans and a black jacket) and a compartment for his modified AA12 with silver slugs in three drum magazines. Either crammed in this case or in a car he keeps an Ares 16 with a variety of attachments for use as a long-to-mid range rifle and a grenade launcher(For that beasty who just doesn't want to go down).
Gray wears a small titanium chain around his neck that has several items dangling from it. A small pot-like skull about the size of a thumb that has dried herbs in it, consisting primarily of wolf's bane to ward off a werewolf's ability to smell him. A small alienish shell filled with holes is also affixed to it. This shell happens to be the only item he has that is magic and he only uses it as a last chance item. Thankfully he's only ever used it once before. He isn't quite sure if it has lasting consequences but man does it become handy in a bind. By saying a set of keywords the artifact teleports him an indeterminate distance away to a random location(or whatever location it wants him at, he really has no idea if it has its own agenda. Eerie). The last item dangling from his chain is a simple Celtic cross because it's cool.
A useful item that is never far from his reach is his trusty silver kukri knife.
Yes, and:
Arachne, a master of information has a real talent for finding what she needs and hiding what should stay hidden. Well, Arachne found Gray Conover. A relatively easy, if a little volatile, person to manipulate and point at targets. Contracting Gray for missions with a high paycheck is really quite easy to do. |
46,643 | 1,263 | 167 | 781 | 162 | The ride over had been trying for Kaori. Gray's smell was too provocative for her to be in a small space with, and the scent of the lycan was foul. It was like spraying perfume over body-odor. Most of the ride she spent holding her breath. She was extremely relieved when they arrived at the small castle.
Kaori could almost taste the anxious energy radiating off of the group. She didn't blame them. To someone unfamiliar with Holzberg manor, it looked like something out of a horror story. The property wasn't unfamiliar territory to a vampire. Although she and her kind never ventured inside the building, the park was a popular feeding ground if you had a taste for the macabre.
She lowered herself from the vehicle, now clean and fully recharged. Her shirt had been obliterated from the struggle, so she had tied the dark robe around her torso. She imagined she looked more like a doll this way, delicate and unlike the beast that had nearly ripped their hunters throat out. But that was the nature of a vampire, to lure with charm and devour with ferocity.
"I'll be pairing up with Kaori." It was obvious Rikive meant to play babysitter.
"I'm flattered," she sarcastically responded.
As the others offered their hands forward, Kaori crossed her arms casually in front of her chest. She meant to make the action unnoticeable. In the same way they didn't trust her, she didn't feel inclined to trust a group of rebel kidnappers. | Name: Kaori Lyle
Age: 42 (Appears Early 20’s)
Gender: Female
Breed/Species/Type/Lineage: Vampire
Talents:
- Immortality
- Enhanced strength and agility
- Enhanced Senses
- Healing
- Experienced with firearms and blades
- Vulnerabilities: fire, sunlight, decapitation, and stakes
History: During the Vietnam War, Kaori’s father (American) met her mother while deployed. As the war came to an end, the two were married. He moved his new wife back to the United States where Kaori would be born and raised.
In the aftershock of the war, Kaori and her mother suffered mild discrimination. However, it was the emotional trauma suffered by her father that began the family’s decent into poverty. To cope with his PTSD, her father became heavily dependent on alcohol and struggled to provide for his family. Although her mother tried, the stigma surrounding her heritage and her own ignorance of American ways made it very difficult for her to earn any type of substantial income.
In her teenage years, Kaori turned to illegal activity to help her family survive. She began in petty theft, and eventually branched out to drug distribution. She continued this line of ‘work’ into her early adult years, until one risky deal went poorly and nearly cost Kaori her life and lead to her ‘change’ into vampirism by a being with a similar heritage to her own. While the first year of her vampirism was difficult, her mentor provided guidance to help Kaori to use her new talents to enhance her old life. She quickly sharpened her skills, and became a sought after ally in criminal circles.
Her talents earned her enough money to support her parents until their eventual death, after which she relocated and eventually settled in New Camden. She now occupies an elegant loft apartment and loans her skills to the highest bidder. Although she has done jobs for members of the council, she did not work for them exclusively.
Over the years, she has had few valuable relationships and friendships as they typically end poorly or in violence.
Psychological Profile: Due to the nature of her work, Kaori doesn’t exactly hold to any strong morals. However, she has common sense enough to think carefully through her actions so as not to compromise herself or the supernatural community. While she isn’t opposed to taking a life, she also doesn’t murder recklessly as she resents the notion of being little more than an animal. Because she came to the country feeling like an outsider, she’s always been a bit of a loner and doesn’t confide much in other people. A very deeply buried part of herself aches over her constant loneliness, but it’s unlikely that anyone would ever get close enough to her to discover this weakness. Also, Kaori has grown to admire fine things and detests the notion of poverty.
Possessions:
-Vietnamese kimonos/robes inherited from her late mother
-A small arsenal of firearms
-Collection of valuable blades from different areas of asia
Yes, and:Kaori crossed paths with Gray Conover one dark night when she was fulfilling a request given to her by the council. When she arrived, she found her prey being hunted by an unlikely predator. From the smell of his blood, Kaori suspected he was human. She lurked in the shadows until the job was done, studying the brave human's methods...and memorizing his scent. |
46,644 | 1,263 | 168 | 1,012 | 4,032 | Yeah, yeah, marker. Tony was not enthralled at being the toddler carrier out of the group. A part of him wanted to scream, He's too white to be mine! It looks off! but apparently the logic was lost on the group.
In any case, the thunder was starting as they stepped out of the van and into the park itself, up a winding path to the Schloss that was leeringly overgrown in the nighttime, when the sounds of crickets and nature threatened to overwhelm. It was almost reassuring, as he set out in a rolling gait with a toddler-Parael hanging off his back -- sure, he was probably the fittest of the bunch outside of the hunter and the hunter was walking around with smoothbore artillery and enough ammo to wage war against an entire battalion of action movie goons. So yeah, put the toddler on the back of the drooling manbeast that could flip a switch into Taz mode, why not?
The real answer was that they wanted to give Parael to Autumn, but got cold feet on how to suggest it. So there Tony was.
"Fuck, got a raincoat in that bag?" he asked rhetorically as the drops started and they started slogging through the grass and the path. Jogger trail by day, sodden march through junkie country by night. Grim thought that reminded him of...
Suddenly, the rain was down in torrents, pouring a sheet of water that obscured vision, isolating people from it. More steps, trying to find a shelter and some place to avoid the deluge, though in about a nanosecond out in it, he was already sodden to the bone, the clothes clinging to him-- Parry probably wasn't happy either, but Tony was learning to tune out whiny little kids in a real hurry, which was a good skill to have when the whiny little kid happened to be an adult bitching about how he lost his sword and became the target of a witch's curse.
Sheltering under a tree in the park, trying to keep himself and the kid covered from the worst of the rain, which was bringing branches down all around him, he was surprised when he looked up after it finally let up, about three minutes later.
It was verdant green broken up with the riotous colors of flowering plant life all around them, and the sun shining through a triple canopy. There was nipa palm, banana trees, bamboo and liana all around and the sound of running water, the Mekong slowly winding its meandering way down from Cambodia into the Delta, which was knee-high mud that Tony was standing in, and lianna all around.. There was a persistent buzz of insect life and the occasional song of birds that one wouldn't hear in Camden. Emerald green, mud brown, the sunlight filtered through the trees.
"Parry, we're in a world of shit, man."
Parael could feel Tony as the shakes started, bigtime. | Name: Antonio Victor Barnes
Age: 65
Gender: Male
Breed/Species/Type/Lineage: Lycanthrope; were-lion.
Talents:- Beastman form; deadly and effective, but terrifying and very, very, very obvious. It is a combination of a Lion's instincts and muscle density and natural equipment with the upright stature of a human being and a degree of their thought processes melded with the instinct of the animal. It is monstrous and the reason the legends exist.
- Full African lion form - like the cat. Not nearly as useful as, say, a wolf form that could be written off as a dog.
- Fast-healing in man-beast. In other forms, he takes damage normally.
- If hit with anything silver, he is immediately shifted back into normal human form. Also, if a silver bullet is in him, he is unable to shift.
- Rage; in enough pain, he'll see red and there is the potential to start killing indiscriminately to escape this. On the other hand, he's had years to learn how to control this.
- As the moon cycles, his abilities wax and wane; at full moon, he has a hard time controlling said abilities. Nearer the new moon, he finds it requires an extra degree of effort to use his abilities and he tends to tire out easier.
- Even as a human, he has increased senses that allows him to detect things with his nose; for example, sweat and various other secretions, and where they are emotionally based on that. It's a combination of animal magnetism and animal instinct.
History:Antonio Victor Barnes was born to a Afro-Cuban mother and a half-white father in New Camden, in the Dorset neighborhood, which was once home to the Cardinal's Point General Motors factory. His father, Joe, had a good job there, though he worked very hard for it. He'd come to Camden from Virginia. His mother had very little to say about the country she left or the circumstances back there.
In 1967 Uncle Sam decided to draft Antonio into the Vietnam War. He arrived in December of 1967 and saw service right as the Tet Offensive started up in February of 1968. He served in the 9th Infantry Division in the Mekong Delta, fighting near the Cambodian border. Serving as a cherry (replacement) in his new platoon, he served for five months of his tour, watching guys get blown up by booby traps, wounded by mortar fire, shot by Cong and NVA and otherwise chopped up in a futile-seeming war in the jungle; waist deep in the muck of the Mekong Delta. His battalion suffered repeated Viet Cong and NLF/PAVN attacks one night and the next put his company out on the outpost line, which was then overrun by a particularly savage attack by the Vietnamese. Terrified, with his squad dying and dead around him in the jungle night, he changed into the man-beast form and mauled a number of VC and NVA regulars, even as the A-6 Intruders dropped napalm and cluster bombs all over the jungle when the company CO called down the strikes inside his box, on top of the heads of friendlies.
His position took a hit, but he survived, to the astonishment of the reinforcements combing over the battlefield, policing up the weapons and the mauled bodies; the Vietnamese were dumped into a mass grave, the Americans taken to graves registration. But no one could figure up what tore up all these people -- some of the bodies were ripped to shreds.
"Shrapnel, napalm, fuckit," they said.
Barnes was MIA.
He spent time in the jungle, hunting, killing and learning his abilities, and eventually had a sense of how to control them enough to shift back to human form and find help. During that time, the legends were rife in VI Corps and Viet Cong alike of a killer tiger running about in the Delta, a huge, dangerous beast. So it was considered a miracle when he finally was found by the Army; presumed to have escaped POW captivity among the Viet Cong as well as the man-eater of the Mekong, he was evacuated out and then honorably discharged at the end of his draft service in Fort Polk.
His return to the World, coincided with the start of economic hard times in Camden, especially as Cardinal's Point started to lay people off and he flirted around with various dissident movements like the Black Panthers and other organizations that were concerned with the plight of the black man in America, especially after Vietnam. Every full moon, there was the potential for devastation and destruction, and he isolated himself to keep from having another situation where he killed people indiscriminately.
He bummed around the country and, ironically, ran into the Courts in New Orleans of all places, where the supernatural are able to move about a little more freely, and the mortals know a little more than they ought to. His girlfriend at the time, Marie, a Creole, introduced him to the Courts and the supernatural community, though she was somewhat shaky on how things worked because she wasn't entirely clued in, but steered him to people who definitely were.
He learned that he wasn't alone, wasn't the only one and there was a world out there with laws...and that if his black ass felt discriminated against before, wait until he met the Nobles of the courts.
New Orleans wasn't the worst place to lay up and learn things, the Court there was not one of the worst and he used his GI benefits to enroll in Tulane University, where he majored in social work, and carried that into a Master's in Business Administration while working in social work all over the State of Louisiana, where it was needed.
In the course of time, he returned to Camden when his father got sick to help take care of his parents, sometime in the early 1980's, and found that that Camden was as economically depressed as New Orleans. He quickly got to work with local activists and other like minded folk and started trying to find ways to work the system and rebuild the thriving middle class neighborhood he lived in, even as yuppie white fuckers exported all the jobs to places like China, and, ironically, Vietnam.
Fast forward decades later, and Antonio still looks rather young (magical energy tends to sustain a longer lifespan anyway) and has no idea how long his life is going to be, but he's spent a lot of it building the Horizon Foundation, a large not-for-profit that is devoted to preserving New Camden's cultural history and finding new ways to turn old buildings into something profitable within the community as well as retraining and employing locals, particularly out of economically depressed areas like his native Dorset. He paid his tithe, avoided Court politics and was trying to do something good with his life when Nemsemet came to town.
Not liking the injustice of the Court, he didn't really care what Nemsemet did to the likes of Caradoc de Lacy. The only problem is, of course, that Nemsemet is a crazy motherfucker and he's not stopping there. . He's also rallied a lot of lycanthropes to the cause, men and women that are a lot less controlled than Antonio is, raised in clans together that distrust the outside world and are indoctrinated against normal humanity. It's understandable, they've been hunted, persecuted and have lived on the margins. Antonio has some sway with them, in that they are not enthusiastically hunting one of their own, but they aren't listening when he tries to rally these various lycanthrope clans.
Nemsemet is bad news. Now he's on the run like a lot of other people.
Psychological Profile:Deep down, Barnes is still guilty about what he did in Vietnam, flying off the handle, killing a bunch of people indiscriminately. While time has healed some of it, he left the 'Nam resolved to do something worthy and good with the rest of his life, and got into the nitty gritty of social work and entepreneurial neighborhood development. He's always been careful to avoid getting overly involved in Court politics. The Court, so long as one pays tithe and avoids breaking the Concealment Edict, really doesn't care.
On the other hand, the injustice of the Court rankles Antonio, and he's happy to see it gone. But he has a regard for human life that most lycanthropes don't, and is one of the few standing against Nemsemet.
Possessions:A nice house, inherited from his deceased parents that isn't really safe to stay in any more. He's socked away money wisely invested, as well as his considerable salary as the CEO of Horizon. He has a particularly nice 1969 Pontiac Firebird and a shotgun at home that, quite frankly, he doesn't use.
He has a nice cell phone though and some authentic Vietnamese Buddhist prayer beads he picked up in the 1990's when he travelled back to 'Nam to make his peace with the past. They have supernatural significance that he doesn't really understand.
Yes, and: ...Flint and Antonio had a run-in in 1987 or so, when Flint suspected Antonio in a grisly series of murders that involved the consumption of corpses after digging into his Vietnam War history. Antonio was charged by the court, though his innocence was proven when the murders continued with him in custody. Flint and Antonio worked together grudgingly to catch the werewolf family responsible for it, but there's no love lost there. |
46,645 | 1,263 | 169 | 2,534 | 450 | Rikive repressed a shiver as she and Kaori split off from the rest of the group, heading to the area they were supposed to scout. The cold wasn't what made her want to shiver, nor the needle like iciness of the rain pouring down on them. This entire park had a very unsettling feeling to it, and as they grew closer to the mansion, looming like a giant in the distance; it just grew worse.
Her pale eyes looked up to the sky as thunder rumbled over head. It taunted her, every boom of thunder, every flash of lightning for a split second made her think Thor was with them. But he wasn't. She wished he was, she wished any of the other Asgardian's were here with her or help guide her. Help get this horribly unorganized and undisciplined group working together in a well functioning unit.
They had no such help, just each other. They might as well be stuck in Jötunheimr. The thought of the home of the Jötunn made her want to shiver again. Nemsemet was horrible and there was so much they still didn't know about him, but thankfully they weren't trying to fight Jötunn. She could not even begin to describe how terrifying and ferocious the giant race was.
Rikive mentally tried to shake the doubts away and pulled her wet hair away from her face, digging out a rubberband from her jeans to tie it into a pony tail. As she finished tying up her hair, the near blinding rain suddenly stopped and she found herself surrounded on all sides by thick jungle. "What now?" She asked, her voice closer to a growl as she lowered her hand to draw her sword from it's place at her hip.
She held it in front of her and took a step forward, acutely aware of the vampire with her. The sunlight gleamed off the deathly sharp blade, the ancient ruins carved down the sword contrasted against the polished surface. Rikive slashed at a low hanging branch, feeling a hint of resistance with the cut. It felt real, but that wasn't what she had been testing.
"Useless sword." She muttered in frustration, shaking Winterthorn as though that would active it's power. "Can't even dis-spell a damned illusion." She slammed it back into its sheath. It rattled for a moment before growing quiet. Rikive ignored it and turned to her 'partner'. "Care to offer anything about, this?" She asked, pointing to the bright jungle around them. | Name: Parael Magnus
Age: 777
Gender: Androgynous (often answers to male pronouns)
Breed: Retired Celestial ('Nephilim')
Physical Description: (Because I can never get pictures to work right >.< )
Parael stands just shy of 6 feet tall, near 130lbs, with long golden hair grown down to his shoulders, often done up in a ponytail. When working at his center he's dressed in ragged jeans and a clean vest with a diaper bag over his shoulder. On the streets he often wears a button up vest, while channeling his powers can reveal ethereal wings that no longer physically exist.
Talents:
Parael lost most of his Celestial powers after he retired and became Nephilim, but he has picked up a few skills here and there since becoming half human...
- Divine Light: Normally deadly and natural to a full Celestial, Parael was taught to channel Divine power through his human hands roughly 500 years ago. Through human conjuring, this power is little more than a bright and hot flare.
- Glamour: By necessity, Parael has learned to harness human illusion powers to maintain glamours around himself and his place of business, disguising himself against mortal eyes.
History:
Parael doesn't like to discuss his history from before his retirement to the human world ("I abhor getting involved with all the human dogma over whose Creator is right. You all need to stop worrying your lovely faces about that and get to the business of living!") But certain individuals believe that he was present shortly after the moment of creation, this revelation coming from nights involving too much alcohol and pillow talk- and as with all such talk, could easily be a fabrication. Whatever precipitated Parael to hang up his wings in the Middle Ages is between Parael and whatever Celestial ordered him around at the time.
After coming down to Earth in the Far East during the Middle Ages and being tutored in human culture by a Chinese dragon, Parael hitch-hiked across the silk road with a Djinni caravan, partied in Europe among the Faerie courts through the Renaissance, sailed across the Atlantic to South America to run with were-jaguars during the Age of Exploration, chillaxed in the Caribbean with wizard cabals through to the 1800s, and finally settled in New Camden during the modern era. It wasn't until settling Camden that he actually began to buy into the tributary system and managed to cultivate a number of relationships with the ruling council of the city ("'Cultivate' is such a cleaned up word, darling! I got around. A lot.")
Celestial blood is a much desired commodity in the magical world, being used for anything from spell components in Elixers of Life to psychotropic drugs for werewolves. His identity as a Celestial would be impossible to conceal forever, so Parael worked out a deal with the city's vampire leader Caradoc de Lacy to provide a certain tithe of blood every month, allowing the vampire to store and imbibe it whenever he liked- negating the deadliness of sunlight to the city's leader for a few hours at a time. Being able to surprise his foes at high noon while they plotted against him was a boon the vampire couldn't afford to pass up. Caradoc, meanwhile, protected Parael's identity as a Celestial from the general supernatural population, eliminating anyone who got too close to the truth of how he could move about during daylight hours.
This protection became doubly handy when, in the Moral Panic of the 1980s, the human city council tried to shut down Parael's daycare center under the pretense of "protecting children from the homosexual menace." Caradoc stepped up and bullied the council into keeping away, but the Celestial soon found himself in deeper debt to Caradoc for the intercession.
Caradoc's human rival, Baroness Augusta, a wizard with an arsenal of magic at her disposal, lost three magi trying to discern how Caradoc could move about seemingly at random during the day. When she discovered the existence of Parael, the two leaders called a council to discuss his presence in Camden. Parael doesn't know what accord they came to, but the inquiries from the city's wizards did stop.
To the supernatural "public" of Camden, Parael is still an eccentric magi who is good with kids and operates out of a daycare center on the East Side. Parael pays tribute by watching over the children of other paranormals, occasionally enchanting them with glamour to pass under mortal gaze when not in full control of their powers; and most importantly, by his blood tithe to the Prince ("And judging by how Baroness Augusta's wrinkled face is looking, the covens are getting a cut too. Unless that's Botox she's taking and I'm wrong.")
With the arrival of Nemsemet and the eradication of the Count and his court, Parael is feeling the pressure whether to go underground or to step up and fight. Coming out of retirement is not in the cards, as a full Celestial entering battle with Nemsemet may emerge victorious, but the clash could level the city of New Camden and everyone in it. For now his daycare center has turned into nothing less than a fortified bunker with wizards and faeries placing wards all over the grounds to protect their next generation from the wrath of Nemsemet...
Psychological Profile:
Parael is a bubbly, flirtatious individual who is absolutely enthralled with the modern mortal world. The iPhone is a greater wonder than all the stars in the sky ("Except for Orion, that sly stud!"). His identity as an ex-Celestial is a closely guarded secret however, and he is supremely sensitive to anyone bringing up the idea that he could be one.
Possessions:
Parael travels light in his day-to-day work. He always has a slick, designer diaper bag on hand from which he pulls all manner of items including toys, food, spellbooks and extra clothes. Buried beneath the floorboards in his bedroom is a dirty, dented iron longsword which he treats with all the reverence of a Colt .45 when in hand.
He does keep an enormous collection of mementos in his apartment. He still has a silk robe which he picked up from his landing in China, which he often lays about in during his off hours, a set of jeweled earrings from India during his trek across the Silk Road, a silver Fairy Sword he got from the Queen of Spring in a tournament ("I'm not bragging, but it was actually the prize in a beauty contest."), and a collection of Obsidian daggers and war clubs during his time in the South American jungles with the were-panthers ("I've yet to find better steak knives and meat tenderizers!").
Yes, and: Parael Magnus hunkered down right after the appearance of the dread Nemsemet, warding his daycare center to try and hide the fact that he was a Celestial from the enemy and providing a place of safety for anyone else who needed a way to lay low... |
46,646 | 1,263 | 170 | 1,012 | 4,032 | Tony knew the smell of this place, and he knew the terrain. He crouched low out of instinct and lowered his voice, "Voice down, man." Parael might well have really thought he'd gone around the bend if he said, "Charlie's listening" so he avoided saying that, but it's really what he wanted to say.
"We gotta see if the others are here and find them. Keep your ears wide open, man." He whispered as he started to move through the brush, trying to step around the stuff that rustled, trying to keep his eyes in all directions. He'd been point several times, particularly when that fuckstick Lieutenant Pfluger decided that Tony's mouth was too much and up he'd go in front of the patrol. But now it was him and a toddler, and he had no fuckin' clue at all what was going to jump out of him in the jungle.
"Don't pop nothing that smells man, I don't know what's out here, but it'll be out of place in this shit. Watch my fuckin' back." Tony suddenly regretted taking any kind of shower before coming out, because fucking Charlie, or whatever horror was out there, could smell yankees on the basis of a couple things; sweat and diet and, most especially, soap, shaving cream and fucking aqua velva. Americans liked to go into the field barbered up and it smelled entirely out of place in the jungle. He'd learned that because he survived much of a tour in 1967 and early 1968 right before everything turned around in his life. Of course, he'd always had the senses, the vision and smell and hearing of a lycanthrope, and that was often what saved his ass.
There were trails to be seen, but he wasn't getting on them. He assumed, even as he crouched and moved, that there was a trap somewhere, and sure enough, he spotted one as they moved through; a frag rigged with a tripwire on a little bamboo y-frame, concealed real well. Tony had a pocket knife on a keychain with some scissors, and he used that to snip the wire once he bent the cotter pin on the frag to keep it from popping out; M26 -- American. He took that up and put it in a pocket on his hoodie. But he held it up to Parry first, as if to say, here we are!
If the others were here, and while Flint had fought the Germans, he never saw anything like the fucking 'Nam, they were going to be in a real world of shit. "We gotta find the others before they step into punji stakes or trip a claymore man," Tony said, fearful desperation in his voice, "They don't know what this shit is like..." | Name: Antonio Victor Barnes
Age: 65
Gender: Male
Breed/Species/Type/Lineage: Lycanthrope; were-lion.
Talents:- Beastman form; deadly and effective, but terrifying and very, very, very obvious. It is a combination of a Lion's instincts and muscle density and natural equipment with the upright stature of a human being and a degree of their thought processes melded with the instinct of the animal. It is monstrous and the reason the legends exist.
- Full African lion form - like the cat. Not nearly as useful as, say, a wolf form that could be written off as a dog.
- Fast-healing in man-beast. In other forms, he takes damage normally.
- If hit with anything silver, he is immediately shifted back into normal human form. Also, if a silver bullet is in him, he is unable to shift.
- Rage; in enough pain, he'll see red and there is the potential to start killing indiscriminately to escape this. On the other hand, he's had years to learn how to control this.
- As the moon cycles, his abilities wax and wane; at full moon, he has a hard time controlling said abilities. Nearer the new moon, he finds it requires an extra degree of effort to use his abilities and he tends to tire out easier.
- Even as a human, he has increased senses that allows him to detect things with his nose; for example, sweat and various other secretions, and where they are emotionally based on that. It's a combination of animal magnetism and animal instinct.
History:Antonio Victor Barnes was born to a Afro-Cuban mother and a half-white father in New Camden, in the Dorset neighborhood, which was once home to the Cardinal's Point General Motors factory. His father, Joe, had a good job there, though he worked very hard for it. He'd come to Camden from Virginia. His mother had very little to say about the country she left or the circumstances back there.
In 1967 Uncle Sam decided to draft Antonio into the Vietnam War. He arrived in December of 1967 and saw service right as the Tet Offensive started up in February of 1968. He served in the 9th Infantry Division in the Mekong Delta, fighting near the Cambodian border. Serving as a cherry (replacement) in his new platoon, he served for five months of his tour, watching guys get blown up by booby traps, wounded by mortar fire, shot by Cong and NVA and otherwise chopped up in a futile-seeming war in the jungle; waist deep in the muck of the Mekong Delta. His battalion suffered repeated Viet Cong and NLF/PAVN attacks one night and the next put his company out on the outpost line, which was then overrun by a particularly savage attack by the Vietnamese. Terrified, with his squad dying and dead around him in the jungle night, he changed into the man-beast form and mauled a number of VC and NVA regulars, even as the A-6 Intruders dropped napalm and cluster bombs all over the jungle when the company CO called down the strikes inside his box, on top of the heads of friendlies.
His position took a hit, but he survived, to the astonishment of the reinforcements combing over the battlefield, policing up the weapons and the mauled bodies; the Vietnamese were dumped into a mass grave, the Americans taken to graves registration. But no one could figure up what tore up all these people -- some of the bodies were ripped to shreds.
"Shrapnel, napalm, fuckit," they said.
Barnes was MIA.
He spent time in the jungle, hunting, killing and learning his abilities, and eventually had a sense of how to control them enough to shift back to human form and find help. During that time, the legends were rife in VI Corps and Viet Cong alike of a killer tiger running about in the Delta, a huge, dangerous beast. So it was considered a miracle when he finally was found by the Army; presumed to have escaped POW captivity among the Viet Cong as well as the man-eater of the Mekong, he was evacuated out and then honorably discharged at the end of his draft service in Fort Polk.
His return to the World, coincided with the start of economic hard times in Camden, especially as Cardinal's Point started to lay people off and he flirted around with various dissident movements like the Black Panthers and other organizations that were concerned with the plight of the black man in America, especially after Vietnam. Every full moon, there was the potential for devastation and destruction, and he isolated himself to keep from having another situation where he killed people indiscriminately.
He bummed around the country and, ironically, ran into the Courts in New Orleans of all places, where the supernatural are able to move about a little more freely, and the mortals know a little more than they ought to. His girlfriend at the time, Marie, a Creole, introduced him to the Courts and the supernatural community, though she was somewhat shaky on how things worked because she wasn't entirely clued in, but steered him to people who definitely were.
He learned that he wasn't alone, wasn't the only one and there was a world out there with laws...and that if his black ass felt discriminated against before, wait until he met the Nobles of the courts.
New Orleans wasn't the worst place to lay up and learn things, the Court there was not one of the worst and he used his GI benefits to enroll in Tulane University, where he majored in social work, and carried that into a Master's in Business Administration while working in social work all over the State of Louisiana, where it was needed.
In the course of time, he returned to Camden when his father got sick to help take care of his parents, sometime in the early 1980's, and found that that Camden was as economically depressed as New Orleans. He quickly got to work with local activists and other like minded folk and started trying to find ways to work the system and rebuild the thriving middle class neighborhood he lived in, even as yuppie white fuckers exported all the jobs to places like China, and, ironically, Vietnam.
Fast forward decades later, and Antonio still looks rather young (magical energy tends to sustain a longer lifespan anyway) and has no idea how long his life is going to be, but he's spent a lot of it building the Horizon Foundation, a large not-for-profit that is devoted to preserving New Camden's cultural history and finding new ways to turn old buildings into something profitable within the community as well as retraining and employing locals, particularly out of economically depressed areas like his native Dorset. He paid his tithe, avoided Court politics and was trying to do something good with his life when Nemsemet came to town.
Not liking the injustice of the Court, he didn't really care what Nemsemet did to the likes of Caradoc de Lacy. The only problem is, of course, that Nemsemet is a crazy motherfucker and he's not stopping there. . He's also rallied a lot of lycanthropes to the cause, men and women that are a lot less controlled than Antonio is, raised in clans together that distrust the outside world and are indoctrinated against normal humanity. It's understandable, they've been hunted, persecuted and have lived on the margins. Antonio has some sway with them, in that they are not enthusiastically hunting one of their own, but they aren't listening when he tries to rally these various lycanthrope clans.
Nemsemet is bad news. Now he's on the run like a lot of other people.
Psychological Profile:Deep down, Barnes is still guilty about what he did in Vietnam, flying off the handle, killing a bunch of people indiscriminately. While time has healed some of it, he left the 'Nam resolved to do something worthy and good with the rest of his life, and got into the nitty gritty of social work and entepreneurial neighborhood development. He's always been careful to avoid getting overly involved in Court politics. The Court, so long as one pays tithe and avoids breaking the Concealment Edict, really doesn't care.
On the other hand, the injustice of the Court rankles Antonio, and he's happy to see it gone. But he has a regard for human life that most lycanthropes don't, and is one of the few standing against Nemsemet.
Possessions:A nice house, inherited from his deceased parents that isn't really safe to stay in any more. He's socked away money wisely invested, as well as his considerable salary as the CEO of Horizon. He has a particularly nice 1969 Pontiac Firebird and a shotgun at home that, quite frankly, he doesn't use.
He has a nice cell phone though and some authentic Vietnamese Buddhist prayer beads he picked up in the 1990's when he travelled back to 'Nam to make his peace with the past. They have supernatural significance that he doesn't really understand.
Yes, and: ...Flint and Antonio had a run-in in 1987 or so, when Flint suspected Antonio in a grisly series of murders that involved the consumption of corpses after digging into his Vietnam War history. Antonio was charged by the court, though his innocence was proven when the murders continued with him in custody. Flint and Antonio worked together grudgingly to catch the werewolf family responsible for it, but there's no love lost there. |
46,647 | 1,263 | 171 | 2,534 | 450 | Yeah, we'we gonna have ta find da odders, Parry whispered, leaning in closer to Tony's ear. "But you gotta keep your shit togevver man. I ain' got shit ta bring ta dis place. An' I can't turn my head a full one-eighty, so watchin' youw back is a pwobwem."
Parry lived through 'Nam like Tony. Unlike Tony, Parry lived through 'Nam while watching the war happen on TV, smoking his brains out on primo weed, and trying to forget that it was even going on. Even a retired Celestial got hints of human death. Every time you got a few million humans together for the sole purpose of massacring one another, you lined up a buffet for a Daemon to pop out of the Nether and go to town on everyone. Wars were messy. Wars gone metaphysical were nasty.
"I ain' gonna shit myself, Tony, so don' worry 'bout me dwoppin anyting," Parry said. Right before Tony showed him the M26 booby trap they came within inches of stepping on (Okay. Maybe it was a few feet, and Tony was on top of that shit, but when you went from an all-powerful Celestial to a drooling, pants shitting two-year-old in the space of twelve seconds, you understood mortality that much better). Right then and there, if Parry'd eaten anything before they left, he would've loaded up his pants. Thankfully, he was running on empty and wasn't about to tell Tony what would've happened.
"I got no burnin' sword. Buh I still got da mawkew," he said, tapping Tony's neck with the Sharpie. "I gots 'nough space back hewe fow one ow two wunes. Wet me know what you need. Night vision? Camofwage? Siwence? What'd you wish fow most in da jungwe, Tony?" | Name: Parael Magnus
Age: 777
Gender: Androgynous (often answers to male pronouns)
Breed: Retired Celestial ('Nephilim')
Physical Description: (Because I can never get pictures to work right >.< )
Parael stands just shy of 6 feet tall, near 130lbs, with long golden hair grown down to his shoulders, often done up in a ponytail. When working at his center he's dressed in ragged jeans and a clean vest with a diaper bag over his shoulder. On the streets he often wears a button up vest, while channeling his powers can reveal ethereal wings that no longer physically exist.
Talents:
Parael lost most of his Celestial powers after he retired and became Nephilim, but he has picked up a few skills here and there since becoming half human...
- Divine Light: Normally deadly and natural to a full Celestial, Parael was taught to channel Divine power through his human hands roughly 500 years ago. Through human conjuring, this power is little more than a bright and hot flare.
- Glamour: By necessity, Parael has learned to harness human illusion powers to maintain glamours around himself and his place of business, disguising himself against mortal eyes.
History:
Parael doesn't like to discuss his history from before his retirement to the human world ("I abhor getting involved with all the human dogma over whose Creator is right. You all need to stop worrying your lovely faces about that and get to the business of living!") But certain individuals believe that he was present shortly after the moment of creation, this revelation coming from nights involving too much alcohol and pillow talk- and as with all such talk, could easily be a fabrication. Whatever precipitated Parael to hang up his wings in the Middle Ages is between Parael and whatever Celestial ordered him around at the time.
After coming down to Earth in the Far East during the Middle Ages and being tutored in human culture by a Chinese dragon, Parael hitch-hiked across the silk road with a Djinni caravan, partied in Europe among the Faerie courts through the Renaissance, sailed across the Atlantic to South America to run with were-jaguars during the Age of Exploration, chillaxed in the Caribbean with wizard cabals through to the 1800s, and finally settled in New Camden during the modern era. It wasn't until settling Camden that he actually began to buy into the tributary system and managed to cultivate a number of relationships with the ruling council of the city ("'Cultivate' is such a cleaned up word, darling! I got around. A lot.")
Celestial blood is a much desired commodity in the magical world, being used for anything from spell components in Elixers of Life to psychotropic drugs for werewolves. His identity as a Celestial would be impossible to conceal forever, so Parael worked out a deal with the city's vampire leader Caradoc de Lacy to provide a certain tithe of blood every month, allowing the vampire to store and imbibe it whenever he liked- negating the deadliness of sunlight to the city's leader for a few hours at a time. Being able to surprise his foes at high noon while they plotted against him was a boon the vampire couldn't afford to pass up. Caradoc, meanwhile, protected Parael's identity as a Celestial from the general supernatural population, eliminating anyone who got too close to the truth of how he could move about during daylight hours.
This protection became doubly handy when, in the Moral Panic of the 1980s, the human city council tried to shut down Parael's daycare center under the pretense of "protecting children from the homosexual menace." Caradoc stepped up and bullied the council into keeping away, but the Celestial soon found himself in deeper debt to Caradoc for the intercession.
Caradoc's human rival, Baroness Augusta, a wizard with an arsenal of magic at her disposal, lost three magi trying to discern how Caradoc could move about seemingly at random during the day. When she discovered the existence of Parael, the two leaders called a council to discuss his presence in Camden. Parael doesn't know what accord they came to, but the inquiries from the city's wizards did stop.
To the supernatural "public" of Camden, Parael is still an eccentric magi who is good with kids and operates out of a daycare center on the East Side. Parael pays tribute by watching over the children of other paranormals, occasionally enchanting them with glamour to pass under mortal gaze when not in full control of their powers; and most importantly, by his blood tithe to the Prince ("And judging by how Baroness Augusta's wrinkled face is looking, the covens are getting a cut too. Unless that's Botox she's taking and I'm wrong.")
With the arrival of Nemsemet and the eradication of the Count and his court, Parael is feeling the pressure whether to go underground or to step up and fight. Coming out of retirement is not in the cards, as a full Celestial entering battle with Nemsemet may emerge victorious, but the clash could level the city of New Camden and everyone in it. For now his daycare center has turned into nothing less than a fortified bunker with wizards and faeries placing wards all over the grounds to protect their next generation from the wrath of Nemsemet...
Psychological Profile:
Parael is a bubbly, flirtatious individual who is absolutely enthralled with the modern mortal world. The iPhone is a greater wonder than all the stars in the sky ("Except for Orion, that sly stud!"). His identity as an ex-Celestial is a closely guarded secret however, and he is supremely sensitive to anyone bringing up the idea that he could be one.
Possessions:
Parael travels light in his day-to-day work. He always has a slick, designer diaper bag on hand from which he pulls all manner of items including toys, food, spellbooks and extra clothes. Buried beneath the floorboards in his bedroom is a dirty, dented iron longsword which he treats with all the reverence of a Colt .45 when in hand.
He does keep an enormous collection of mementos in his apartment. He still has a silk robe which he picked up from his landing in China, which he often lays about in during his off hours, a set of jeweled earrings from India during his trek across the Silk Road, a silver Fairy Sword he got from the Queen of Spring in a tournament ("I'm not bragging, but it was actually the prize in a beauty contest."), and a collection of Obsidian daggers and war clubs during his time in the South American jungles with the were-panthers ("I've yet to find better steak knives and meat tenderizers!").
Yes, and: Parael Magnus hunkered down right after the appearance of the dread Nemsemet, warding his daycare center to try and hide the fact that he was a Celestial from the enemy and providing a place of safety for anyone else who needed a way to lay low... |
46,648 | 1,263 | 172 | 2,356 | 5,042 | Whilst getting a rune put on her the rain began to come down on Autumn. Where did it come from? It fell so fast that her vision was obscured. Taking a step back she tried to find some kind of cover. Before making it far though it cleared and she stepped right into water. Unable to stop herself she tumbled and fell with a splash. Flailing a bit she scrambled back onto land. She never was a particular fan of bodies of water. It made her slow and wet. For a moment she almost broke her disguise to get out. It was almost sad how something so simple could draw a panic.
Back on semi-dry land she wrung the water out of her hair and looked around. Great, an illusion or mind trap. There others didn't seem to be immediately nearby. They were split up in some wet jungle. Who's mental construction could this be? Despite the noise of the wildlife to her it was eerily silent. Usually she could hear her spawn chattering everywhere, talking to her. But in this imaginary world she did not hold sway of them.
Where the hell to begin. This place could be endless, filled with traps, monsters, and all manor of danger. All could be real to the mind. Speaking of which is was best to keep that in check. For now it was best to focus on finding the others or a way out. Anything else could just make the situation even worse. | Name: Claudia Laurel
Age: 23 (Physically) 62 (In reality)
Gender: Female
Breed/Species/Type/Lineage: Half-Demon
Physical Description:
Talents:
-Using Firearms
-Hand to hand combat
-Stalking/Sneaking
-Controlling fire
-Parkour
-Faster Healing
History:
Claudia was born in 1953, into a prominent family of demons due to an affair between a demon woman and a human. Her family had wealth, power, and most important of all, reputation. Her birth was not wanted by the elders, seeing as her parents were both young, and the fact that Claudia was a half-demon, which were considered disgraces and looked down upon. Claudia's grandfather, Harriet Laurel, decided that Claudia and her father were to be executed. Claudia's mother didn't want this, and helped her daughter disappear, along with Claudia's father. They began a new life (on earth) in America as James Williams and his young daughter, Claudia Williams.
Two years later, Her father was drafted into the Vietnam war at the age of twenty. Claudia was sent to live with her aunt in Virginia, and spent the next twenty years staying there, waiting for her father to return. He never did. Her family was informed of his death, and Claudia received his possessions. In a trunk was a stack of letters, mostly love letters between her mother and father. After digging through the trunk and reading the old letters, she came upon addressed to her, from her parents. The letter told her all about her heritage and why she didn't have a mother with her.Claudia had hoped to get in touch with them, but was not able to enter their world and when summoned, they rejected her because she was a 'Halfling'.
Left with no where to go, she wandered until one she walked in on two people fighting. One pulled out a gun to shoot the other, and Claudia threw the nearest thing she could find at the man, which happened to her shoe. The man ran off not wanting to be seen, and the other, Tom, introduced himself. The two became quick friends, both having no where to go. They lived off the streets, and eventually joined a gang. The two became tangled in a web of crimes and violence, and Tom decide that they needed to learn to defend themselves. They became more active in the gang learning from the other members how to fight, and later how to kill. Claudia and Tom advanced from just people taken under their wing to some of the most able members.
Eventually the gang was busted, and Claudia escaped with Tom. They moved to New Camden, and decided to try to lay low. It didn't work out, as they were in desperate need of money, and Claudia ended up taking jobs which weren't quite legal. She eventually got arrested for vehicular manslaughter, of all things. She was sentenced to five years in prison. When she was let out on probation, she discovered that Tom had passed away. With nothing left, Claudia became a servant for a supernatural household in the court. When Nemsemet took over, her master was killed, along with his family. Claudia was given two choices. Join his side or die. She did what she thought every sane person would have done, and chose not to die. She needed the money anyway. She now works as a servant/hitman for Nemsemet, and though she may not like it, money always comes first. And her dog.
Psychological Profile:
Due to her history, Claudia is very pessimistic. She doesn't believe in the whole 'heart of gold' thing, and distrusts everyone around her. She doesn't like to show emotion, believing they are weaknesses. She believes that the court and the wealthy families in New Camden are all corrupt, but also thinks that Nemsemet is the same.
Claudia has two 'modes', in place of emotions. There's stoic and uncaring, and then theres angry. When taking out targets, she remains cold and collected, but her anger can be triggered easily; she is sensitive about her family, and will physically harm anyone who insults her parents. She is also angered by the social hierarchy of fullbloods and halfbloods. Although she is willing to kill in cold blood, she is not merciless. She prefers to take people out quickly and painlessly, and if you give her good reason not to do something, she'll listen to you. Although it's hard to get her to trust you, if she believes in your cause then she will remain loyal.
Possessions:
A silver ring, which hides her identity as a supernatural creature, given to her by her mother. Two handguns, Several knives, and a sniper rifle. Has extras at her 'home', which is actually an abandoned building. A large husky she adopted off the streets. The closest thing she's ever had to a familiar.
Yes, and:
Claudia met Karram when she was sent to court for vehicular manslaughter. He was one of the people who helped get her a shortened sentence. She has mixed feelings about him. On one hand, he shortened her punishment, on the other hand, he still sent her to prison.
Now though, they're going to meet under much different circumstances. Karram is one of the people she has been requested to kill, so thats awkward.
(I didn't really know what to do here ^, so it can be changed.) |
46,649 | 1,263 | 173 | 1,012 | 4,032 | Silence and something that lets me see where people messed around, Tony said after a minute. He was going to request metal detection, but that'd be no good for punji stick traps. It needed to be based on connections. "Like if someone disturbed a space. Cause Charlie likes to put traps in any place he thinks will get someone, and they have damn good camouflage."
Then, uncharacteristically for the 'Nam, he heard thunderous booming in the distance, dull thudding. He'd been shadowing a trail, checking for traps and trying to watch the river when he stopped at the sudden sound. Had to hand it to Tony, those lycanthrope senses were tuned, his every move was cautious and aware of the terrain. The silence ward wasn't changing his habits of movement here; and the way he plucked that grenade trap out of the ground was mute testament to how deadly the ground was; the jungle lent itself to perfect concealment, and punished the unwary.
Tony would have the freak out at the flood of old memories, doors long barred shut, later. Now was necessity.
"Not artillery, not mortars and not any kind of explosion," he told Parry. | Name: Antonio Victor Barnes
Age: 65
Gender: Male
Breed/Species/Type/Lineage: Lycanthrope; were-lion.
Talents:- Beastman form; deadly and effective, but terrifying and very, very, very obvious. It is a combination of a Lion's instincts and muscle density and natural equipment with the upright stature of a human being and a degree of their thought processes melded with the instinct of the animal. It is monstrous and the reason the legends exist.
- Full African lion form - like the cat. Not nearly as useful as, say, a wolf form that could be written off as a dog.
- Fast-healing in man-beast. In other forms, he takes damage normally.
- If hit with anything silver, he is immediately shifted back into normal human form. Also, if a silver bullet is in him, he is unable to shift.
- Rage; in enough pain, he'll see red and there is the potential to start killing indiscriminately to escape this. On the other hand, he's had years to learn how to control this.
- As the moon cycles, his abilities wax and wane; at full moon, he has a hard time controlling said abilities. Nearer the new moon, he finds it requires an extra degree of effort to use his abilities and he tends to tire out easier.
- Even as a human, he has increased senses that allows him to detect things with his nose; for example, sweat and various other secretions, and where they are emotionally based on that. It's a combination of animal magnetism and animal instinct.
History:Antonio Victor Barnes was born to a Afro-Cuban mother and a half-white father in New Camden, in the Dorset neighborhood, which was once home to the Cardinal's Point General Motors factory. His father, Joe, had a good job there, though he worked very hard for it. He'd come to Camden from Virginia. His mother had very little to say about the country she left or the circumstances back there.
In 1967 Uncle Sam decided to draft Antonio into the Vietnam War. He arrived in December of 1967 and saw service right as the Tet Offensive started up in February of 1968. He served in the 9th Infantry Division in the Mekong Delta, fighting near the Cambodian border. Serving as a cherry (replacement) in his new platoon, he served for five months of his tour, watching guys get blown up by booby traps, wounded by mortar fire, shot by Cong and NVA and otherwise chopped up in a futile-seeming war in the jungle; waist deep in the muck of the Mekong Delta. His battalion suffered repeated Viet Cong and NLF/PAVN attacks one night and the next put his company out on the outpost line, which was then overrun by a particularly savage attack by the Vietnamese. Terrified, with his squad dying and dead around him in the jungle night, he changed into the man-beast form and mauled a number of VC and NVA regulars, even as the A-6 Intruders dropped napalm and cluster bombs all over the jungle when the company CO called down the strikes inside his box, on top of the heads of friendlies.
His position took a hit, but he survived, to the astonishment of the reinforcements combing over the battlefield, policing up the weapons and the mauled bodies; the Vietnamese were dumped into a mass grave, the Americans taken to graves registration. But no one could figure up what tore up all these people -- some of the bodies were ripped to shreds.
"Shrapnel, napalm, fuckit," they said.
Barnes was MIA.
He spent time in the jungle, hunting, killing and learning his abilities, and eventually had a sense of how to control them enough to shift back to human form and find help. During that time, the legends were rife in VI Corps and Viet Cong alike of a killer tiger running about in the Delta, a huge, dangerous beast. So it was considered a miracle when he finally was found by the Army; presumed to have escaped POW captivity among the Viet Cong as well as the man-eater of the Mekong, he was evacuated out and then honorably discharged at the end of his draft service in Fort Polk.
His return to the World, coincided with the start of economic hard times in Camden, especially as Cardinal's Point started to lay people off and he flirted around with various dissident movements like the Black Panthers and other organizations that were concerned with the plight of the black man in America, especially after Vietnam. Every full moon, there was the potential for devastation and destruction, and he isolated himself to keep from having another situation where he killed people indiscriminately.
He bummed around the country and, ironically, ran into the Courts in New Orleans of all places, where the supernatural are able to move about a little more freely, and the mortals know a little more than they ought to. His girlfriend at the time, Marie, a Creole, introduced him to the Courts and the supernatural community, though she was somewhat shaky on how things worked because she wasn't entirely clued in, but steered him to people who definitely were.
He learned that he wasn't alone, wasn't the only one and there was a world out there with laws...and that if his black ass felt discriminated against before, wait until he met the Nobles of the courts.
New Orleans wasn't the worst place to lay up and learn things, the Court there was not one of the worst and he used his GI benefits to enroll in Tulane University, where he majored in social work, and carried that into a Master's in Business Administration while working in social work all over the State of Louisiana, where it was needed.
In the course of time, he returned to Camden when his father got sick to help take care of his parents, sometime in the early 1980's, and found that that Camden was as economically depressed as New Orleans. He quickly got to work with local activists and other like minded folk and started trying to find ways to work the system and rebuild the thriving middle class neighborhood he lived in, even as yuppie white fuckers exported all the jobs to places like China, and, ironically, Vietnam.
Fast forward decades later, and Antonio still looks rather young (magical energy tends to sustain a longer lifespan anyway) and has no idea how long his life is going to be, but he's spent a lot of it building the Horizon Foundation, a large not-for-profit that is devoted to preserving New Camden's cultural history and finding new ways to turn old buildings into something profitable within the community as well as retraining and employing locals, particularly out of economically depressed areas like his native Dorset. He paid his tithe, avoided Court politics and was trying to do something good with his life when Nemsemet came to town.
Not liking the injustice of the Court, he didn't really care what Nemsemet did to the likes of Caradoc de Lacy. The only problem is, of course, that Nemsemet is a crazy motherfucker and he's not stopping there. . He's also rallied a lot of lycanthropes to the cause, men and women that are a lot less controlled than Antonio is, raised in clans together that distrust the outside world and are indoctrinated against normal humanity. It's understandable, they've been hunted, persecuted and have lived on the margins. Antonio has some sway with them, in that they are not enthusiastically hunting one of their own, but they aren't listening when he tries to rally these various lycanthrope clans.
Nemsemet is bad news. Now he's on the run like a lot of other people.
Psychological Profile:Deep down, Barnes is still guilty about what he did in Vietnam, flying off the handle, killing a bunch of people indiscriminately. While time has healed some of it, he left the 'Nam resolved to do something worthy and good with the rest of his life, and got into the nitty gritty of social work and entepreneurial neighborhood development. He's always been careful to avoid getting overly involved in Court politics. The Court, so long as one pays tithe and avoids breaking the Concealment Edict, really doesn't care.
On the other hand, the injustice of the Court rankles Antonio, and he's happy to see it gone. But he has a regard for human life that most lycanthropes don't, and is one of the few standing against Nemsemet.
Possessions:A nice house, inherited from his deceased parents that isn't really safe to stay in any more. He's socked away money wisely invested, as well as his considerable salary as the CEO of Horizon. He has a particularly nice 1969 Pontiac Firebird and a shotgun at home that, quite frankly, he doesn't use.
He has a nice cell phone though and some authentic Vietnamese Buddhist prayer beads he picked up in the 1990's when he travelled back to 'Nam to make his peace with the past. They have supernatural significance that he doesn't really understand.
Yes, and: ...Flint and Antonio had a run-in in 1987 or so, when Flint suspected Antonio in a grisly series of murders that involved the consumption of corpses after digging into his Vietnam War history. Antonio was charged by the court, though his innocence was proven when the murders continued with him in custody. Flint and Antonio worked together grudgingly to catch the werewolf family responsible for it, but there's no love lost there. |
46,650 | 1,263 | 174 | 2,377 | 482 | Beth felt an unnatural shudder ripple through her ethereal body as she scouted the park with Autumn. The sensation worsened when raindrops began falling, then pouring down. With some reluctance, her body became solid again, and the raindrops bounced off. Splitting from the group as per Rikive's orders, she trudged through the downpour, a quiet grumble slipping past her lips every so often.
The rain stopped all too suddenly to be of any comfort. Beth paused where she stood, squinting at her surroundings. The park had been a mess, sure, but not as overgrown as it was now. Since when did parks turn into jungles after a little rainfall? Just a moment ago, the moon barely peeked through the wooded park, now the sun shone on trees that certainly didn't belong in New Camden.
She pinched the bridge of her nose, feeling nothing, and muttered to herself. "Some sort of magic, isn't it? Wonderful."
With the rain gone she became intangible again -- before all this Nemsemet mess she'd never had to switch in and out so frequently, it was starting to make her nauseas. Even passing through shrubbery as she was, she moved cautiously, eyeing every hiding place imaginable. Assuming the illusion served as a defence for the manor, it had to go pretty deep, or there was something more inside. Their best bet was to find the other pairs, regroup, and think their way out of it. So Beth moved silently forward, listening for the slightest sign of her comrades and feeling, like some kind of bug, for the energies that hung around them.
She thought the thunder returned when she heard that big boom, but it dulled soon after, and didn't sound like any kind of thunder she'd heard before. She stilled except to turn her head, made a rough guess at where it came from, then started off in the opposite direction. The second step she took, she felt something different zip through her foot -- not leaves or twigs, but something metal. Manufactured crap always felt cold, unlike something natural. Beth turned and crouched, low and carefully, and just about caught sight of the thinnest of wires spread taut from one bush to another.
She really needed to find the others. | Name: Rikive Heimdalsdóttir
Age: ?
Gender: Female
Breed/Species/Type/Lineage: Deity
Physical Description:
Talents:-Hand to hand combat (including 'god like' speed and strength)
-Extraordinary eyesight (in light or dark), heightened hearing and extremely high endurance
-Healing magic
History:Rikive is the daughter of the God Heimdall and an elven maiden named, Alfrún. She spent most of her life in Asgard, in the hall of her father. She had always been curious about Midgard, but finally came to the mortal realm due to the encouragement of her father.
When she came to Midgard she did not know nor understanding the rules of how the supernatural were to interact with human society. For the most part she had done well adjusting to modern life, it wasn’t the first time a god had gone to Midgard to pretend to be human. She had picked up on certain social norms, but some had escaped her notice. She had learned rather harshly that duels of honor were not accepted anymore.
One unfortunate encounter with a particularly obnoxious man, he lost one hand and she was the one arrested.
That one incident and she found herself in debt to the system set up to keep order with supernatural beings. Some had told her to merely run and return to Asgard, but she stubbornly denied such an idea. She would repay her debt as she was honor bound to do.
A few times she had been tempted to make the debt dwindle a little faster using...less than savory means. She was strong and skilled, certain operations would have paid her a lot of money to provide them with protection. However she always refused, it wasn’t right.
Psychological Profile:Quiet, reflective, and idealistic. Interested in serving humanity. Well-developed value system, which she strives to live in accordance with. Extremely loyal. Adaptable and laid-back unless something she holds in high regard is challenged. Mentally quick, and able to see possibilities. Interested in understanding and helping people.
Possessions:-Winterthorn an enchanted blade, it's powers/abilities:
- Sheath transforms into a viking round shield
Yes, and:When Rikive first arrived to Camden and she was still adjusting to modern human society, she met Parael by chance. He proved to be a great teacher (in his own fun, flamboyant manner), helping her to adapt to Midgard as it is now and she considers him a good friend. She is currently helping him by standing as protection and keeping watch for his daycare center. |
46,651 | 1,263 | 175 | 1,650 | 715 | The deluge started. With the others running ahead and otherwise taking cover he strolled along. It was like being in Oregon in the middle of the year where torrential downpours were commonplace. He enjoyed the sound of the rain and getting wet wasn't unpleasant to him. The patter gave way to a blinding sun that was completely out of place. The building that should have been there was replaced by a vibrant display of unfamiliar trees. The cool night air was replaced by a humidity that clung to you like a filthy diaper.
"What?" He shook his head with a heavy sigh. "I hate magic. It'd be different if I had some. I wonder if Karram can fix this. Where am I anyway?" He conversed with himself. | Name: Gray Conover
Age: 31
Gender: Male
Species: Human
Physical Description:
Gray stands at 5'11. He is broad-shouldered and lanky, his advantage against his enemies is obviously not brute strength yet he has exercised thoroughly to try to make up some of the difference if he ever has to get that close. He has a long face and a pointed chin and hazel eyes, characteristics that seems to run in his family. His hair color is dark brown and he has mutton chops and doesn't bother to manage his hair so it stands pretty unkempt. He keeps it just short enough in the front that it won't become a problem in combat.
Talents:
Creative Combatant - Gray is a very experienced killer and it comes mainly from his ability to think on his feet and react quickly. Even without weapons on his person he can figure out ways to kill something by using his environment and playing dirty. He certainly doesn't hold back on the playing dirty part which might irk off those noble vampires or whatever the hell else thinks they have some kind of fair fighting spirit in combat. It's always life or death and Gray doesn't plan on being the one dying.
Broad Monster Knowledge - Gray knows how to kill all the common creeps. Werewolves, vampires, zombies(Those are the easy ones), etc. It comes from a personal history of doing just that. If he can't kill it he'll get away and study for some way to do so. After all, his hefty pay check rides on this important task.
Extensive Arms Experience - Gray is both a military veteran and an arms enthusiast. As such he has both experience and extensive practice with firearms. Having talent and practice make him a very accurate shot with long weapons in particular.
History:
Killing monsters runs in the family and family is what really matters. Gray grew up with values, often unapparent to others, that keep him from going too far in the field. He grew up with several brothers and a sister and for the earliest part of his life had no idea what his family really did. They sheltered him from it until he was ready to know the truth. That truth didn't come until it was nearly too late.
Gray joined the military. He was in the army on tour in the middle east when he encountered his first taste of the supernatural world. They seemed like normal middle-eastern villagers. Lured into their village on their patrol, Gray's team didn't pose a very good chance. They had the resilience and constitution of ghouls. Meaning they wouldn't go down without a good headshot or leg shot. Most of his team was felled by their inhuman stamina with mere farm tools. Their adversary was quick and dangerous but he had and the remainder of his squad had the resolve to survive. It wasn't until later that he understood what they were. They weren't undead. They were the "blessed warriors" of a demonic duke known as Abigor that had been piggybacking on wars and feeding off of them since iron was used as a weapon. It made sense why he'd be making his rounds in the most war torn nation in the world.
On his return to the States Gray reunited with his family. Upon hearing his experience they began to explain to him the finer parts of their history. The Conover's have been killing monsters for nearly two-hundred years. Gray had a legacy he was willing to uphold.
Unfortunately that legacy was difficult to acquire with the councils of creatures banded together throughout the world. With the councils keeping everything in check his family didn't indulge in hunting so much anymore. The councils were a necessary evil but they were still monsters and Gray couldn't personally trust them to keep things steady. He needed a group that would let him bypass getting a hit on his head by an organization that vastly overpowered him. It took a while and he took up jobs killing rogue beasts in the process which the council overlooked because of the nature of the cases. He wasn't that good at first. Not many people are. The evil monsters that let themselves be tracked by an amateur are generally the easiest to kill. Gray had mistakes and near-death experiences but his resolve and ingenuity always had the tendency to save him.
When you're feeling hand over hand through the dark you always find something.
Psychological Profile: Gray seems to be morally ambiguous to people who don't know him. To those who do, they see the bold line he won't cross. If a creature isn't a killer and has no potential to be he won't take its life. He sees many jobs he's taken as necessary evil to protect humanity. Overall he views himself as a protector, but damn if he doesn't like a good paycheck.
Gray loves humor in all its forms. He'd be pretty depressing if he couldn't take a good joke every now and then. Even if it's completely misplaced and awkward.
Possessions:
Gray has two large suitcases that are normally too heavy for normal airport admittance. One stores his set of armor. The armor is customizable on the job with many spots for Kevlar inserts, a bite guard, a helmet and a few other minor items to help him adapt to circumstances. Teeth, claws or (preferably not) bullets. He's got something to give him some edge.
Aside from a few spots in the first suitcase for some Glocks and ammunition (Affordability, you lose guns a lot when you're hunting.) he has saved room in his other suitcase for a few sets of street clothes(primarily gray t-shirts, blue jeans and a black jacket) and a compartment for his modified AA12 with silver slugs in three drum magazines. Either crammed in this case or in a car he keeps an Ares 16 with a variety of attachments for use as a long-to-mid range rifle and a grenade launcher(For that beasty who just doesn't want to go down).
Gray wears a small titanium chain around his neck that has several items dangling from it. A small pot-like skull about the size of a thumb that has dried herbs in it, consisting primarily of wolf's bane to ward off a werewolf's ability to smell him. A small alienish shell filled with holes is also affixed to it. This shell happens to be the only item he has that is magic and he only uses it as a last chance item. Thankfully he's only ever used it once before. He isn't quite sure if it has lasting consequences but man does it become handy in a bind. By saying a set of keywords the artifact teleports him an indeterminate distance away to a random location(or whatever location it wants him at, he really has no idea if it has its own agenda. Eerie). The last item dangling from his chain is a simple Celtic cross because it's cool.
A useful item that is never far from his reach is his trusty silver kukri knife.
Yes, and:
Arachne, a master of information has a real talent for finding what she needs and hiding what should stay hidden. Well, Arachne found Gray Conover. A relatively easy, if a little volatile, person to manipulate and point at targets. Contracting Gray for missions with a high paycheck is really quite easy to do. |
46,652 | 1,263 | 176 | 2,246 | 3,527 | Flint had been taken by surprise by the sudden change of atmosphere. Of course if you had looked at him you wouldn’t have noticed. He had preferred the rain however, to wherever he was now, too hot and damp. He began to rack his brain, really look around, it was some sort of forest he knew that much, and the fauna was not American, neither European. Maybe South American, hell for all he knew he could be in Asia. No, he had to stick with the facts, he was still at the manor home, just some kind of magic wards protecting the place. Flint began to walk along what seemed like a trodden path. He needed to find the manor, or at least whatever the manor was hidden under in this place.
The ground under Flint began to become more messy, leaves seemingly covering where a path once was twigs seemingly placed to look random rather than naturally forming, it seemed someone was attempting to hide the path, or possibly to hide a trip…
The thought was interrupted by the familiar click of a grenades pin being removed.
Luckily Flint’s reactions whereas on point as they were 60 years ago, and the man was covered in solid rock as the explosion occurred, the shrapnel chipping away at the dirt and stone but not making its way through, Flint shifted the barrier out of his way as he wiped the sweat off his brow.
“That was a close one…” Flint muttered to himself, trailing off as he soon realised this wasn’t any ordinary jungle, this was a battleground. Just not one he had thought in, it was a guerrilla war, a lot more sneakiness and a lot more camouflage. Like some of his brethren in Japan, the war Flint avoided to be shipped off to France.
This was going to be ‘fun’ | Name: Flint White
Age: 125 (looks mid 20's)
Gender: Male
Breed/Species/Type/Lineage: Elemental Sorcerer.
Talents:
Firearms training
Elemental magic (Controlling and conjuring of earth, fire, water, air)
Police Procedure
Detective work
Hand to Hand combat
Interrogation
Quick witted
History:
Flint was born in 1895, he led a normal life in Camden until he was conscripted into World War One. After the war, life didn't seem as precious anymore and he joined with a local mob boss. The gang told him of his magical abilities, which he had no idea he had, and began having him work for them in robberies.
His shenanigans caught the attention of the magical courts. They soon captured him and they explained the world that sat under his nose, they explained that it was magic that kept him young, that his parents had died horribly to an unknown attack. Flint was lost, and not knowing what to do he left Camden just in time for Conscription to scoop him up for World War Two.
More war and Flint was on his last thread, he returned to Camden and began Private investigation, it was ok work and helped pay for the taxes. Flint got his big break when the Court asked for him to join their police force, he accepted and soon rose the ranks to detective. Magical police work was a lot more intriguing than normal private work, and he was good at it.
Then it all went to hell.
Flint survived the first purges, but has been in hiding for awhile now. However he has begun to raise an army. A poster here, a leaflet there all signifying a meet up of those who wish to stop the current 'leader'.
Psychological Profile:
Harsh, Quick witted, scheming and cold hearted. Flint was normally one to work alone, but the new order of things means he will have to begin working with others if they are going to stop the main threat. He wont take orders from anyone, but he isn't an idiot, and can be persuaded to do things if its for the best.
He is a long standing alcoholic, and it is rare to see him without a bottle on his person, many believe his way of work is inhumane, and he prefers to act first before asking questions.
More than likely not all there in his head, due to the terrible things he has seen in and out of war.
Possessions:
.44 Magnum revolver in shoulder holster.
An array of legal and illegal weapons he keeps at his current safe house, most are pre 1950's however.
Smudge, the cat.
Yes and
Flint knew about Beth through her criminal connections, and was on her tail at every corner until she spoilt all the fun and died.
When she was placed in the court he wasn't pleased, not just because of her past crimes but also because of the moral grounds on controlling others. |
46,653 | 1,263 | 177 | 2,356 | 5,042 | An explosion nearby alerted Autumn to someone else nearby. Kind of hard to miss a grenade going off. It was a semi-familiar sound even though she had not been in any wars. There were enough through history to educate her about many different weapons of war. Given that this was a illusion it was probably a safe bet to assume it was constructed from one of their minds. Given the terrain she would say Tony. This looked enough like Vietnam to draw a decent conclusion. It didn't entirely help though because they were still trapped.
Sighing she began to make her way toward where she heard the explosion. On the way she stopped at one point. A nigh invisible line stretched across a clearing. She'd made enough webs for it to stand out clear as day. She practically invented this kind of thing. That wouldn't be the only trap around though. The ground and water were dangerous. Maybe it was time to forgo some of the things she was hiding. Losing her shoes she took to climbing over the vegetation. Her hands and feet easily clung to the foliage and made getting around much easier.
Only down side was the noise it made. Most of the plant life wasn't strong enough to not flex under her weight. Beat finding a trap though. Before long she managed to spot Flint. Landing in a safe spot she stepped over to him. "Flint, stumbling around explosives?" | Name: Claudia Laurel
Age: 23 (Physically) 62 (In reality)
Gender: Female
Breed/Species/Type/Lineage: Half-Demon
Physical Description:
Talents:
-Using Firearms
-Hand to hand combat
-Stalking/Sneaking
-Controlling fire
-Parkour
-Faster Healing
History:
Claudia was born in 1953, into a prominent family of demons due to an affair between a demon woman and a human. Her family had wealth, power, and most important of all, reputation. Her birth was not wanted by the elders, seeing as her parents were both young, and the fact that Claudia was a half-demon, which were considered disgraces and looked down upon. Claudia's grandfather, Harriet Laurel, decided that Claudia and her father were to be executed. Claudia's mother didn't want this, and helped her daughter disappear, along with Claudia's father. They began a new life (on earth) in America as James Williams and his young daughter, Claudia Williams.
Two years later, Her father was drafted into the Vietnam war at the age of twenty. Claudia was sent to live with her aunt in Virginia, and spent the next twenty years staying there, waiting for her father to return. He never did. Her family was informed of his death, and Claudia received his possessions. In a trunk was a stack of letters, mostly love letters between her mother and father. After digging through the trunk and reading the old letters, she came upon addressed to her, from her parents. The letter told her all about her heritage and why she didn't have a mother with her.Claudia had hoped to get in touch with them, but was not able to enter their world and when summoned, they rejected her because she was a 'Halfling'.
Left with no where to go, she wandered until one she walked in on two people fighting. One pulled out a gun to shoot the other, and Claudia threw the nearest thing she could find at the man, which happened to her shoe. The man ran off not wanting to be seen, and the other, Tom, introduced himself. The two became quick friends, both having no where to go. They lived off the streets, and eventually joined a gang. The two became tangled in a web of crimes and violence, and Tom decide that they needed to learn to defend themselves. They became more active in the gang learning from the other members how to fight, and later how to kill. Claudia and Tom advanced from just people taken under their wing to some of the most able members.
Eventually the gang was busted, and Claudia escaped with Tom. They moved to New Camden, and decided to try to lay low. It didn't work out, as they were in desperate need of money, and Claudia ended up taking jobs which weren't quite legal. She eventually got arrested for vehicular manslaughter, of all things. She was sentenced to five years in prison. When she was let out on probation, she discovered that Tom had passed away. With nothing left, Claudia became a servant for a supernatural household in the court. When Nemsemet took over, her master was killed, along with his family. Claudia was given two choices. Join his side or die. She did what she thought every sane person would have done, and chose not to die. She needed the money anyway. She now works as a servant/hitman for Nemsemet, and though she may not like it, money always comes first. And her dog.
Psychological Profile:
Due to her history, Claudia is very pessimistic. She doesn't believe in the whole 'heart of gold' thing, and distrusts everyone around her. She doesn't like to show emotion, believing they are weaknesses. She believes that the court and the wealthy families in New Camden are all corrupt, but also thinks that Nemsemet is the same.
Claudia has two 'modes', in place of emotions. There's stoic and uncaring, and then theres angry. When taking out targets, she remains cold and collected, but her anger can be triggered easily; she is sensitive about her family, and will physically harm anyone who insults her parents. She is also angered by the social hierarchy of fullbloods and halfbloods. Although she is willing to kill in cold blood, she is not merciless. She prefers to take people out quickly and painlessly, and if you give her good reason not to do something, she'll listen to you. Although it's hard to get her to trust you, if she believes in your cause then she will remain loyal.
Possessions:
A silver ring, which hides her identity as a supernatural creature, given to her by her mother. Two handguns, Several knives, and a sniper rifle. Has extras at her 'home', which is actually an abandoned building. A large husky she adopted off the streets. The closest thing she's ever had to a familiar.
Yes, and:
Claudia met Karram when she was sent to court for vehicular manslaughter. He was one of the people who helped get her a shortened sentence. She has mixed feelings about him. On one hand, he shortened her punishment, on the other hand, he still sent her to prison.
Now though, they're going to meet under much different circumstances. Karram is one of the people she has been requested to kill, so thats awkward.
(I didn't really know what to do here ^, so it can be changed.) |
46,654 | 1,263 | 178 | 1,650 | 715 | A lanky figure knelt in the distance. Even with the dirtied clothing covering it there seemed to be something unsettling. Gray drew closer quietly, his feet barely rustling the grass. The kneeling figure breathed with short hard breaths, hyperventilating like a dog. The straw hat on their head shifted as Gray stepped a little too loud.
Slowly the head turned. It stopped turning before he could see it. Rising to its feet it completed the revolution. Skin ashen like a dead man, face trapped in a state of terrifying rage, eyes that were shriveled from being unable to blink. Without those she would seem like a normal Vietnamese villager. With a deafening shriek of rage the 'blessed' of Abigor sprinted at Gray like an uncaring PCP addict. "Shit." Was what he managed before raising the shotgun level with her chest and unloading three shots. They stunned her for a moment before she started running again, practically unhindered by the more than a dozen bleeding holes scattered across her chest.
After cranking off a few more shots the cursed woman closed the distance and despite severe wounds and clear holes through her face she screamed with unearthly fury, grabbing at the shotgun and disarming him. Gray happened to be still attached to the shotgun by a strap and was thrown along with the weapon by her beastly strength.
Rolling back onto his feet as quickly as he could, he leveled his weapon instead for her right bicep. Bam, bam, bam! Splintered bone and sinew still allowed the worthless limb to cling onto the woman. She jolted forward, clearly unaffected by the pain of her mortal wound. "That's right!" Gray shouted, aiming for the throat. Another three bangs rang through the air. Vital fluids emptied from the devastating wound to her neck. The volume of her gurgling was unnerving as she kept moving forward.
The kukri slid cleanly out of its sheathe on his chest. With a quick and strong sweep he cleaved into the unprotected flesh on the right side of her neck. The kukri met spine and Gray pulled it out. Blood spattered onto his vest. His unbalanced adversary was dizzy, no longer screaming and now tottering uneasily. He pulled the blade back and aimed at the neck one more time. This time the heavy silver knife sliced all the way through and the head sailed to the side. The body remained standing for another few seconds, the hand remaining intact reached out to grasp her enemy in a last fit of anger before falling free.
Gray kicked the prone body a little. Comfortable that it could no longer try to kill him he wiped the bloody kukri off on a less sullied part of her clothing. "I hate these things." The knife was returned to its sheathe. These followers of rage and war were rarely alone. He looked around to make sure that there wasn't another hiding in wait to strike. His adversary's project wasn't at all comforting. The bed of razor-pointed bamboo spikes was half buried in the grass. "I hope the others are doing well." Gray spoke to himself. | Name: Gray Conover
Age: 31
Gender: Male
Species: Human
Physical Description:
Gray stands at 5'11. He is broad-shouldered and lanky, his advantage against his enemies is obviously not brute strength yet he has exercised thoroughly to try to make up some of the difference if he ever has to get that close. He has a long face and a pointed chin and hazel eyes, characteristics that seems to run in his family. His hair color is dark brown and he has mutton chops and doesn't bother to manage his hair so it stands pretty unkempt. He keeps it just short enough in the front that it won't become a problem in combat.
Talents:
Creative Combatant - Gray is a very experienced killer and it comes mainly from his ability to think on his feet and react quickly. Even without weapons on his person he can figure out ways to kill something by using his environment and playing dirty. He certainly doesn't hold back on the playing dirty part which might irk off those noble vampires or whatever the hell else thinks they have some kind of fair fighting spirit in combat. It's always life or death and Gray doesn't plan on being the one dying.
Broad Monster Knowledge - Gray knows how to kill all the common creeps. Werewolves, vampires, zombies(Those are the easy ones), etc. It comes from a personal history of doing just that. If he can't kill it he'll get away and study for some way to do so. After all, his hefty pay check rides on this important task.
Extensive Arms Experience - Gray is both a military veteran and an arms enthusiast. As such he has both experience and extensive practice with firearms. Having talent and practice make him a very accurate shot with long weapons in particular.
History:
Killing monsters runs in the family and family is what really matters. Gray grew up with values, often unapparent to others, that keep him from going too far in the field. He grew up with several brothers and a sister and for the earliest part of his life had no idea what his family really did. They sheltered him from it until he was ready to know the truth. That truth didn't come until it was nearly too late.
Gray joined the military. He was in the army on tour in the middle east when he encountered his first taste of the supernatural world. They seemed like normal middle-eastern villagers. Lured into their village on their patrol, Gray's team didn't pose a very good chance. They had the resilience and constitution of ghouls. Meaning they wouldn't go down without a good headshot or leg shot. Most of his team was felled by their inhuman stamina with mere farm tools. Their adversary was quick and dangerous but he had and the remainder of his squad had the resolve to survive. It wasn't until later that he understood what they were. They weren't undead. They were the "blessed warriors" of a demonic duke known as Abigor that had been piggybacking on wars and feeding off of them since iron was used as a weapon. It made sense why he'd be making his rounds in the most war torn nation in the world.
On his return to the States Gray reunited with his family. Upon hearing his experience they began to explain to him the finer parts of their history. The Conover's have been killing monsters for nearly two-hundred years. Gray had a legacy he was willing to uphold.
Unfortunately that legacy was difficult to acquire with the councils of creatures banded together throughout the world. With the councils keeping everything in check his family didn't indulge in hunting so much anymore. The councils were a necessary evil but they were still monsters and Gray couldn't personally trust them to keep things steady. He needed a group that would let him bypass getting a hit on his head by an organization that vastly overpowered him. It took a while and he took up jobs killing rogue beasts in the process which the council overlooked because of the nature of the cases. He wasn't that good at first. Not many people are. The evil monsters that let themselves be tracked by an amateur are generally the easiest to kill. Gray had mistakes and near-death experiences but his resolve and ingenuity always had the tendency to save him.
When you're feeling hand over hand through the dark you always find something.
Psychological Profile: Gray seems to be morally ambiguous to people who don't know him. To those who do, they see the bold line he won't cross. If a creature isn't a killer and has no potential to be he won't take its life. He sees many jobs he's taken as necessary evil to protect humanity. Overall he views himself as a protector, but damn if he doesn't like a good paycheck.
Gray loves humor in all its forms. He'd be pretty depressing if he couldn't take a good joke every now and then. Even if it's completely misplaced and awkward.
Possessions:
Gray has two large suitcases that are normally too heavy for normal airport admittance. One stores his set of armor. The armor is customizable on the job with many spots for Kevlar inserts, a bite guard, a helmet and a few other minor items to help him adapt to circumstances. Teeth, claws or (preferably not) bullets. He's got something to give him some edge.
Aside from a few spots in the first suitcase for some Glocks and ammunition (Affordability, you lose guns a lot when you're hunting.) he has saved room in his other suitcase for a few sets of street clothes(primarily gray t-shirts, blue jeans and a black jacket) and a compartment for his modified AA12 with silver slugs in three drum magazines. Either crammed in this case or in a car he keeps an Ares 16 with a variety of attachments for use as a long-to-mid range rifle and a grenade launcher(For that beasty who just doesn't want to go down).
Gray wears a small titanium chain around his neck that has several items dangling from it. A small pot-like skull about the size of a thumb that has dried herbs in it, consisting primarily of wolf's bane to ward off a werewolf's ability to smell him. A small alienish shell filled with holes is also affixed to it. This shell happens to be the only item he has that is magic and he only uses it as a last chance item. Thankfully he's only ever used it once before. He isn't quite sure if it has lasting consequences but man does it become handy in a bind. By saying a set of keywords the artifact teleports him an indeterminate distance away to a random location(or whatever location it wants him at, he really has no idea if it has its own agenda. Eerie). The last item dangling from his chain is a simple Celtic cross because it's cool.
A useful item that is never far from his reach is his trusty silver kukri knife.
Yes, and:
Arachne, a master of information has a real talent for finding what she needs and hiding what should stay hidden. Well, Arachne found Gray Conover. A relatively easy, if a little volatile, person to manipulate and point at targets. Contracting Gray for missions with a high paycheck is really quite easy to do. |
46,655 | 1,263 | 179 | 2,377 | 482 | Against her better judgement, and for lack of any other idea, Beth pushed forward towards the sounds of gunfire and unnatural thunder. Whatever illusion this was, she maintained it was just that: an illusion. A realistic one at that, but nevertheless. She remained physically intangible, yet kept her eyes to the ground. Whenever she found a tripwire, she cautiously brushed apart the foliage on the ground. If luck prevailed, the disturbance would draw attention to the trap.
Every so often the snap of a twig or rustling of leaves would bring Beth to her feet, but nothing came out of the trees, and no sounds followed those. She moved back several paces once, investigated all the hiding place she could find, and found nothing. She blamed the magic of the illusion for playing with her mind.
At the sound of another burst of gunfire, nearer this time, she jogged ahead. Perhaps the sounds belonged to Flint, or Tony had retrieved a gun. She'd even welcome the hunter at this point. Emerging into a clearing, sure that this was where the sounds came from, Beth saw an old woman.
A familiar old woman, sun-tanned, with wrinkles deep set in her cheeks and around her eyes, just as Beth remembered her. She stood clutching a rotting heart in one age-spotted hand and a ruby pendant in the other. I buried that, Beth reminded herself. The witch smiled at her, as though she weren't straining to crush either heart or ruby, but her eyes held no warmth. The witch had to be a construct of the illusion, for she had no place in the jungle. And still, fear crept into Beth's mind and clouded her logic with doubt.
Heaviness began to set in. The light-weightedness she'd grown so used to ebbed away. The old witch swung the pendant gently side to side, while the odd thunderous rumble carried on elsewhere. Beth felt her knees hit solid ground and her hands fall into her lap, and all she could do was watch the ruby swing. | Name: Rikive Heimdalsdóttir
Age: ?
Gender: Female
Breed/Species/Type/Lineage: Deity
Physical Description:
Talents:-Hand to hand combat (including 'god like' speed and strength)
-Extraordinary eyesight (in light or dark), heightened hearing and extremely high endurance
-Healing magic
History:Rikive is the daughter of the God Heimdall and an elven maiden named, Alfrún. She spent most of her life in Asgard, in the hall of her father. She had always been curious about Midgard, but finally came to the mortal realm due to the encouragement of her father.
When she came to Midgard she did not know nor understanding the rules of how the supernatural were to interact with human society. For the most part she had done well adjusting to modern life, it wasn’t the first time a god had gone to Midgard to pretend to be human. She had picked up on certain social norms, but some had escaped her notice. She had learned rather harshly that duels of honor were not accepted anymore.
One unfortunate encounter with a particularly obnoxious man, he lost one hand and she was the one arrested.
That one incident and she found herself in debt to the system set up to keep order with supernatural beings. Some had told her to merely run and return to Asgard, but she stubbornly denied such an idea. She would repay her debt as she was honor bound to do.
A few times she had been tempted to make the debt dwindle a little faster using...less than savory means. She was strong and skilled, certain operations would have paid her a lot of money to provide them with protection. However she always refused, it wasn’t right.
Psychological Profile:Quiet, reflective, and idealistic. Interested in serving humanity. Well-developed value system, which she strives to live in accordance with. Extremely loyal. Adaptable and laid-back unless something she holds in high regard is challenged. Mentally quick, and able to see possibilities. Interested in understanding and helping people.
Possessions:-Winterthorn an enchanted blade, it's powers/abilities:
- Sheath transforms into a viking round shield
Yes, and:When Rikive first arrived to Camden and she was still adjusting to modern human society, she met Parael by chance. He proved to be a great teacher (in his own fun, flamboyant manner), helping her to adapt to Midgard as it is now and she considers him a good friend. She is currently helping him by standing as protection and keeping watch for his daycare center. |
46,656 | 1,263 | 180 | 781 | 162 | The rain had been so merciless, that it had soaked through the thick curtain of Kaori's ebony hair within the few moments it had lasted. Fantastic, she had sarcastically thought to herself. Although, even then, before the world around them changed to a jungle of bright light, she had felt as if something were off. She was not a very magically aware creature, but even she knew it was too peculiar for a sky-less night to suddenly erupt in downpour.
Just as suddenly, it felt as if someone had pulled back the curtains on a lazy morning. The rainclouds parted and the sun seemed to explode into the night sky. It was all she was aware of. The ball of fire burning too close, too low and seeping into her skin like a thousand poisoned needles.
She was instantly more animal than person. With a vicious hiss, she sprang from her spot beside Rikive and lunged for the closed sanctuary of a shadow. She found herself gripping a tree, clawing at its bark as if to hollow it out and envelop herself inside. Which, she might if she survived long enough.
"How the hell should I know anything about this?!" she growled at Rikive. In her fear, she experienced a sort of fury that rode on the tails of adrenaline. She wasn't personally angry at Rikive, even though she would have thought that to be a stupid question, sun or not. The frustrated squeals that drew from her throat seemed to make that clear as she assaulted the tree bark.
Somewhere in the back of her mind, it began to occur to her that she should have gone up in flames the instant the sun had licked her skin, but she was too panicked to really pause to think that through. | Name: Kaori Lyle
Age: 42 (Appears Early 20’s)
Gender: Female
Breed/Species/Type/Lineage: Vampire
Talents:
- Immortality
- Enhanced strength and agility
- Enhanced Senses
- Healing
- Experienced with firearms and blades
- Vulnerabilities: fire, sunlight, decapitation, and stakes
History: During the Vietnam War, Kaori’s father (American) met her mother while deployed. As the war came to an end, the two were married. He moved his new wife back to the United States where Kaori would be born and raised.
In the aftershock of the war, Kaori and her mother suffered mild discrimination. However, it was the emotional trauma suffered by her father that began the family’s decent into poverty. To cope with his PTSD, her father became heavily dependent on alcohol and struggled to provide for his family. Although her mother tried, the stigma surrounding her heritage and her own ignorance of American ways made it very difficult for her to earn any type of substantial income.
In her teenage years, Kaori turned to illegal activity to help her family survive. She began in petty theft, and eventually branched out to drug distribution. She continued this line of ‘work’ into her early adult years, until one risky deal went poorly and nearly cost Kaori her life and lead to her ‘change’ into vampirism by a being with a similar heritage to her own. While the first year of her vampirism was difficult, her mentor provided guidance to help Kaori to use her new talents to enhance her old life. She quickly sharpened her skills, and became a sought after ally in criminal circles.
Her talents earned her enough money to support her parents until their eventual death, after which she relocated and eventually settled in New Camden. She now occupies an elegant loft apartment and loans her skills to the highest bidder. Although she has done jobs for members of the council, she did not work for them exclusively.
Over the years, she has had few valuable relationships and friendships as they typically end poorly or in violence.
Psychological Profile: Due to the nature of her work, Kaori doesn’t exactly hold to any strong morals. However, she has common sense enough to think carefully through her actions so as not to compromise herself or the supernatural community. While she isn’t opposed to taking a life, she also doesn’t murder recklessly as she resents the notion of being little more than an animal. Because she came to the country feeling like an outsider, she’s always been a bit of a loner and doesn’t confide much in other people. A very deeply buried part of herself aches over her constant loneliness, but it’s unlikely that anyone would ever get close enough to her to discover this weakness. Also, Kaori has grown to admire fine things and detests the notion of poverty.
Possessions:
-Vietnamese kimonos/robes inherited from her late mother
-A small arsenal of firearms
-Collection of valuable blades from different areas of asia
Yes, and:Kaori crossed paths with Gray Conover one dark night when she was fulfilling a request given to her by the council. When she arrived, she found her prey being hunted by an unlikely predator. From the smell of his blood, Kaori suspected he was human. She lurked in the shadows until the job was done, studying the brave human's methods...and memorizing his scent. |
46,657 | 1,263 | 181 | 1,012 | 4,032 | Rikive stared at the vampire as she clawed with panicked desperation at the bark of tree she clung too. It was...an oddly amusing sight. Seeing the overly confident creature of darkness reduced to a scrambling coward was satisfying to say the least. Shame the hunter wasn't here to see this, he would have gotten some enjoyment out of it.
Rikive rubbed her hand over her mouth to hide her grin and stepped closer to the terrified vampire. "I'm fairly certain that all of this," Rikive waved her hand around them. "Is fake. Which means," she pointed to the sunlight shining innocently through the canopy. "That sun is fake as well. So you're safe, alright?" Likely that wouldn't be enough to get her to leave the 'safety' of the tree so Rikive took a step back.
"Here." She pulled Winterthorn from it's sheath and in a cloud of smoke the sheath transformed into her shield. Rikive stabbed Winterthorn into the ground and removed the shield from her arm. The demi-goddess held out the shield for her 'companion' and raised her eyebrows. "Hold this over your head for shade, we need to start moving and looking for the others. Now if we're lucky, I'll be able to hear them somewhere in all of this, but that's going to be hard if you're screeching like-" Rikive cut herself off as a sound reached her ears. "Ssh." She held up her finger to her lips to signal Kaori to be quiet.
In the distance she heard a dull thump. Shortly after the first one, there was a second one. There was a rhythm to them, one she had heard before a few centuries ago. "We need to go. Now." Rikive yanked her sword out of the ground, gripping it tight while her eyes scanned their surroundings. "So pull it together. We've got big trouble coming our way." | Name: Antonio Victor Barnes
Age: 65
Gender: Male
Breed/Species/Type/Lineage: Lycanthrope; were-lion.
Talents:- Beastman form; deadly and effective, but terrifying and very, very, very obvious. It is a combination of a Lion's instincts and muscle density and natural equipment with the upright stature of a human being and a degree of their thought processes melded with the instinct of the animal. It is monstrous and the reason the legends exist.
- Full African lion form - like the cat. Not nearly as useful as, say, a wolf form that could be written off as a dog.
- Fast-healing in man-beast. In other forms, he takes damage normally.
- If hit with anything silver, he is immediately shifted back into normal human form. Also, if a silver bullet is in him, he is unable to shift.
- Rage; in enough pain, he'll see red and there is the potential to start killing indiscriminately to escape this. On the other hand, he's had years to learn how to control this.
- As the moon cycles, his abilities wax and wane; at full moon, he has a hard time controlling said abilities. Nearer the new moon, he finds it requires an extra degree of effort to use his abilities and he tends to tire out easier.
- Even as a human, he has increased senses that allows him to detect things with his nose; for example, sweat and various other secretions, and where they are emotionally based on that. It's a combination of animal magnetism and animal instinct.
History:Antonio Victor Barnes was born to a Afro-Cuban mother and a half-white father in New Camden, in the Dorset neighborhood, which was once home to the Cardinal's Point General Motors factory. His father, Joe, had a good job there, though he worked very hard for it. He'd come to Camden from Virginia. His mother had very little to say about the country she left or the circumstances back there.
In 1967 Uncle Sam decided to draft Antonio into the Vietnam War. He arrived in December of 1967 and saw service right as the Tet Offensive started up in February of 1968. He served in the 9th Infantry Division in the Mekong Delta, fighting near the Cambodian border. Serving as a cherry (replacement) in his new platoon, he served for five months of his tour, watching guys get blown up by booby traps, wounded by mortar fire, shot by Cong and NVA and otherwise chopped up in a futile-seeming war in the jungle; waist deep in the muck of the Mekong Delta. His battalion suffered repeated Viet Cong and NLF/PAVN attacks one night and the next put his company out on the outpost line, which was then overrun by a particularly savage attack by the Vietnamese. Terrified, with his squad dying and dead around him in the jungle night, he changed into the man-beast form and mauled a number of VC and NVA regulars, even as the A-6 Intruders dropped napalm and cluster bombs all over the jungle when the company CO called down the strikes inside his box, on top of the heads of friendlies.
His position took a hit, but he survived, to the astonishment of the reinforcements combing over the battlefield, policing up the weapons and the mauled bodies; the Vietnamese were dumped into a mass grave, the Americans taken to graves registration. But no one could figure up what tore up all these people -- some of the bodies were ripped to shreds.
"Shrapnel, napalm, fuckit," they said.
Barnes was MIA.
He spent time in the jungle, hunting, killing and learning his abilities, and eventually had a sense of how to control them enough to shift back to human form and find help. During that time, the legends were rife in VI Corps and Viet Cong alike of a killer tiger running about in the Delta, a huge, dangerous beast. So it was considered a miracle when he finally was found by the Army; presumed to have escaped POW captivity among the Viet Cong as well as the man-eater of the Mekong, he was evacuated out and then honorably discharged at the end of his draft service in Fort Polk.
His return to the World, coincided with the start of economic hard times in Camden, especially as Cardinal's Point started to lay people off and he flirted around with various dissident movements like the Black Panthers and other organizations that were concerned with the plight of the black man in America, especially after Vietnam. Every full moon, there was the potential for devastation and destruction, and he isolated himself to keep from having another situation where he killed people indiscriminately.
He bummed around the country and, ironically, ran into the Courts in New Orleans of all places, where the supernatural are able to move about a little more freely, and the mortals know a little more than they ought to. His girlfriend at the time, Marie, a Creole, introduced him to the Courts and the supernatural community, though she was somewhat shaky on how things worked because she wasn't entirely clued in, but steered him to people who definitely were.
He learned that he wasn't alone, wasn't the only one and there was a world out there with laws...and that if his black ass felt discriminated against before, wait until he met the Nobles of the courts.
New Orleans wasn't the worst place to lay up and learn things, the Court there was not one of the worst and he used his GI benefits to enroll in Tulane University, where he majored in social work, and carried that into a Master's in Business Administration while working in social work all over the State of Louisiana, where it was needed.
In the course of time, he returned to Camden when his father got sick to help take care of his parents, sometime in the early 1980's, and found that that Camden was as economically depressed as New Orleans. He quickly got to work with local activists and other like minded folk and started trying to find ways to work the system and rebuild the thriving middle class neighborhood he lived in, even as yuppie white fuckers exported all the jobs to places like China, and, ironically, Vietnam.
Fast forward decades later, and Antonio still looks rather young (magical energy tends to sustain a longer lifespan anyway) and has no idea how long his life is going to be, but he's spent a lot of it building the Horizon Foundation, a large not-for-profit that is devoted to preserving New Camden's cultural history and finding new ways to turn old buildings into something profitable within the community as well as retraining and employing locals, particularly out of economically depressed areas like his native Dorset. He paid his tithe, avoided Court politics and was trying to do something good with his life when Nemsemet came to town.
Not liking the injustice of the Court, he didn't really care what Nemsemet did to the likes of Caradoc de Lacy. The only problem is, of course, that Nemsemet is a crazy motherfucker and he's not stopping there. . He's also rallied a lot of lycanthropes to the cause, men and women that are a lot less controlled than Antonio is, raised in clans together that distrust the outside world and are indoctrinated against normal humanity. It's understandable, they've been hunted, persecuted and have lived on the margins. Antonio has some sway with them, in that they are not enthusiastically hunting one of their own, but they aren't listening when he tries to rally these various lycanthrope clans.
Nemsemet is bad news. Now he's on the run like a lot of other people.
Psychological Profile:Deep down, Barnes is still guilty about what he did in Vietnam, flying off the handle, killing a bunch of people indiscriminately. While time has healed some of it, he left the 'Nam resolved to do something worthy and good with the rest of his life, and got into the nitty gritty of social work and entepreneurial neighborhood development. He's always been careful to avoid getting overly involved in Court politics. The Court, so long as one pays tithe and avoids breaking the Concealment Edict, really doesn't care.
On the other hand, the injustice of the Court rankles Antonio, and he's happy to see it gone. But he has a regard for human life that most lycanthropes don't, and is one of the few standing against Nemsemet.
Possessions:A nice house, inherited from his deceased parents that isn't really safe to stay in any more. He's socked away money wisely invested, as well as his considerable salary as the CEO of Horizon. He has a particularly nice 1969 Pontiac Firebird and a shotgun at home that, quite frankly, he doesn't use.
He has a nice cell phone though and some authentic Vietnamese Buddhist prayer beads he picked up in the 1990's when he travelled back to 'Nam to make his peace with the past. They have supernatural significance that he doesn't really understand.
Yes, and: ...Flint and Antonio had a run-in in 1987 or so, when Flint suspected Antonio in a grisly series of murders that involved the consumption of corpses after digging into his Vietnam War history. Antonio was charged by the court, though his innocence was proven when the murders continued with him in custody. Flint and Antonio worked together grudgingly to catch the werewolf family responsible for it, but there's no love lost there. |
46,658 | 1,263 | 182 | 1,012 | 4,032 | The artillery barrage went over the area quickly; a couple shots and done, but it was a preparation fire. As the smoke cleared and Tony pulled himself up from where he cowered in terror, where he'd dove for shelter in a desperate instance of knowing he was on the receiving end of incoming fire, he heard the sound that every infantryman in Vietnam wanted to hear.
Whoop-whoop-whoop, the blades of hueys, bringing in the fire; the sound of machinegun and rocket fire from up above suppressing the enemies in the area -- it was hard to tell where the enemies were but apparently the helicopters had guidance.
Tony didn't have smoke to pop. He didn't have a radio. He didn't have a lot of things, but he managed to find his way into a clearing, and started waving his arms at the birds circling over head, the door gunners with their pigs (note: M60 machineguns) thundering away at targets of opportunity.
They could see him and they weren't shooting, so that meant that they were friendly...
Tony dared again, yelling, "THIS WAY!" for the others to hear, if they were indeed around, "HURRY!"
He didn't want to be left behind, and he didn't want to leave others behind. | Name: Antonio Victor Barnes
Age: 65
Gender: Male
Breed/Species/Type/Lineage: Lycanthrope; were-lion.
Talents:- Beastman form; deadly and effective, but terrifying and very, very, very obvious. It is a combination of a Lion's instincts and muscle density and natural equipment with the upright stature of a human being and a degree of their thought processes melded with the instinct of the animal. It is monstrous and the reason the legends exist.
- Full African lion form - like the cat. Not nearly as useful as, say, a wolf form that could be written off as a dog.
- Fast-healing in man-beast. In other forms, he takes damage normally.
- If hit with anything silver, he is immediately shifted back into normal human form. Also, if a silver bullet is in him, he is unable to shift.
- Rage; in enough pain, he'll see red and there is the potential to start killing indiscriminately to escape this. On the other hand, he's had years to learn how to control this.
- As the moon cycles, his abilities wax and wane; at full moon, he has a hard time controlling said abilities. Nearer the new moon, he finds it requires an extra degree of effort to use his abilities and he tends to tire out easier.
- Even as a human, he has increased senses that allows him to detect things with his nose; for example, sweat and various other secretions, and where they are emotionally based on that. It's a combination of animal magnetism and animal instinct.
History:Antonio Victor Barnes was born to a Afro-Cuban mother and a half-white father in New Camden, in the Dorset neighborhood, which was once home to the Cardinal's Point General Motors factory. His father, Joe, had a good job there, though he worked very hard for it. He'd come to Camden from Virginia. His mother had very little to say about the country she left or the circumstances back there.
In 1967 Uncle Sam decided to draft Antonio into the Vietnam War. He arrived in December of 1967 and saw service right as the Tet Offensive started up in February of 1968. He served in the 9th Infantry Division in the Mekong Delta, fighting near the Cambodian border. Serving as a cherry (replacement) in his new platoon, he served for five months of his tour, watching guys get blown up by booby traps, wounded by mortar fire, shot by Cong and NVA and otherwise chopped up in a futile-seeming war in the jungle; waist deep in the muck of the Mekong Delta. His battalion suffered repeated Viet Cong and NLF/PAVN attacks one night and the next put his company out on the outpost line, which was then overrun by a particularly savage attack by the Vietnamese. Terrified, with his squad dying and dead around him in the jungle night, he changed into the man-beast form and mauled a number of VC and NVA regulars, even as the A-6 Intruders dropped napalm and cluster bombs all over the jungle when the company CO called down the strikes inside his box, on top of the heads of friendlies.
His position took a hit, but he survived, to the astonishment of the reinforcements combing over the battlefield, policing up the weapons and the mauled bodies; the Vietnamese were dumped into a mass grave, the Americans taken to graves registration. But no one could figure up what tore up all these people -- some of the bodies were ripped to shreds.
"Shrapnel, napalm, fuckit," they said.
Barnes was MIA.
He spent time in the jungle, hunting, killing and learning his abilities, and eventually had a sense of how to control them enough to shift back to human form and find help. During that time, the legends were rife in VI Corps and Viet Cong alike of a killer tiger running about in the Delta, a huge, dangerous beast. So it was considered a miracle when he finally was found by the Army; presumed to have escaped POW captivity among the Viet Cong as well as the man-eater of the Mekong, he was evacuated out and then honorably discharged at the end of his draft service in Fort Polk.
His return to the World, coincided with the start of economic hard times in Camden, especially as Cardinal's Point started to lay people off and he flirted around with various dissident movements like the Black Panthers and other organizations that were concerned with the plight of the black man in America, especially after Vietnam. Every full moon, there was the potential for devastation and destruction, and he isolated himself to keep from having another situation where he killed people indiscriminately.
He bummed around the country and, ironically, ran into the Courts in New Orleans of all places, where the supernatural are able to move about a little more freely, and the mortals know a little more than they ought to. His girlfriend at the time, Marie, a Creole, introduced him to the Courts and the supernatural community, though she was somewhat shaky on how things worked because she wasn't entirely clued in, but steered him to people who definitely were.
He learned that he wasn't alone, wasn't the only one and there was a world out there with laws...and that if his black ass felt discriminated against before, wait until he met the Nobles of the courts.
New Orleans wasn't the worst place to lay up and learn things, the Court there was not one of the worst and he used his GI benefits to enroll in Tulane University, where he majored in social work, and carried that into a Master's in Business Administration while working in social work all over the State of Louisiana, where it was needed.
In the course of time, he returned to Camden when his father got sick to help take care of his parents, sometime in the early 1980's, and found that that Camden was as economically depressed as New Orleans. He quickly got to work with local activists and other like minded folk and started trying to find ways to work the system and rebuild the thriving middle class neighborhood he lived in, even as yuppie white fuckers exported all the jobs to places like China, and, ironically, Vietnam.
Fast forward decades later, and Antonio still looks rather young (magical energy tends to sustain a longer lifespan anyway) and has no idea how long his life is going to be, but he's spent a lot of it building the Horizon Foundation, a large not-for-profit that is devoted to preserving New Camden's cultural history and finding new ways to turn old buildings into something profitable within the community as well as retraining and employing locals, particularly out of economically depressed areas like his native Dorset. He paid his tithe, avoided Court politics and was trying to do something good with his life when Nemsemet came to town.
Not liking the injustice of the Court, he didn't really care what Nemsemet did to the likes of Caradoc de Lacy. The only problem is, of course, that Nemsemet is a crazy motherfucker and he's not stopping there. . He's also rallied a lot of lycanthropes to the cause, men and women that are a lot less controlled than Antonio is, raised in clans together that distrust the outside world and are indoctrinated against normal humanity. It's understandable, they've been hunted, persecuted and have lived on the margins. Antonio has some sway with them, in that they are not enthusiastically hunting one of their own, but they aren't listening when he tries to rally these various lycanthrope clans.
Nemsemet is bad news. Now he's on the run like a lot of other people.
Psychological Profile:Deep down, Barnes is still guilty about what he did in Vietnam, flying off the handle, killing a bunch of people indiscriminately. While time has healed some of it, he left the 'Nam resolved to do something worthy and good with the rest of his life, and got into the nitty gritty of social work and entepreneurial neighborhood development. He's always been careful to avoid getting overly involved in Court politics. The Court, so long as one pays tithe and avoids breaking the Concealment Edict, really doesn't care.
On the other hand, the injustice of the Court rankles Antonio, and he's happy to see it gone. But he has a regard for human life that most lycanthropes don't, and is one of the few standing against Nemsemet.
Possessions:A nice house, inherited from his deceased parents that isn't really safe to stay in any more. He's socked away money wisely invested, as well as his considerable salary as the CEO of Horizon. He has a particularly nice 1969 Pontiac Firebird and a shotgun at home that, quite frankly, he doesn't use.
He has a nice cell phone though and some authentic Vietnamese Buddhist prayer beads he picked up in the 1990's when he travelled back to 'Nam to make his peace with the past. They have supernatural significance that he doesn't really understand.
Yes, and: ...Flint and Antonio had a run-in in 1987 or so, when Flint suspected Antonio in a grisly series of murders that involved the consumption of corpses after digging into his Vietnam War history. Antonio was charged by the court, though his innocence was proven when the murders continued with him in custody. Flint and Antonio worked together grudgingly to catch the werewolf family responsible for it, but there's no love lost there. |
46,659 | 1,263 | 183 | 1,650 | 715 | A thundering barrage drowned the world with sound, dirt and terror. The deafening volley devastated the landscape. If Gray had a second chance to look before hitting the wet soil he would have sworn the scenery changed despite the assault of artillery. The hazy world smoked around him. Through his stunned eyes he could make out a figure rushing forward with adrenaline fueled vigor. He seemed to be carrying an awkward-looking backpack that.. clung to him?
Gray rubbed his eyes clear of dirt. There was a little figure on his back! It was Tony with Parry. He started shouting something that sounded like nothing more than a murmur below the boom of ordnance and whirlwind of chopper blades. Tony scrambled for the choppers as they starting touching down ahead. Screw this placee! Anywhere was better than being stuck in a jungle war zone. Whether this was a nightmare of Vietnam or Korea didn't matter. Wherever those choppers are headed can't be any worse than this piss-smelling, blood-soaked mosquito hell.
The hunter jetted off the ground. Adrenaline and fury were his blood. He surged forward to would-be safety in the outdated death traps. | Name: Gray Conover
Age: 31
Gender: Male
Species: Human
Physical Description:
Gray stands at 5'11. He is broad-shouldered and lanky, his advantage against his enemies is obviously not brute strength yet he has exercised thoroughly to try to make up some of the difference if he ever has to get that close. He has a long face and a pointed chin and hazel eyes, characteristics that seems to run in his family. His hair color is dark brown and he has mutton chops and doesn't bother to manage his hair so it stands pretty unkempt. He keeps it just short enough in the front that it won't become a problem in combat.
Talents:
Creative Combatant - Gray is a very experienced killer and it comes mainly from his ability to think on his feet and react quickly. Even without weapons on his person he can figure out ways to kill something by using his environment and playing dirty. He certainly doesn't hold back on the playing dirty part which might irk off those noble vampires or whatever the hell else thinks they have some kind of fair fighting spirit in combat. It's always life or death and Gray doesn't plan on being the one dying.
Broad Monster Knowledge - Gray knows how to kill all the common creeps. Werewolves, vampires, zombies(Those are the easy ones), etc. It comes from a personal history of doing just that. If he can't kill it he'll get away and study for some way to do so. After all, his hefty pay check rides on this important task.
Extensive Arms Experience - Gray is both a military veteran and an arms enthusiast. As such he has both experience and extensive practice with firearms. Having talent and practice make him a very accurate shot with long weapons in particular.
History:
Killing monsters runs in the family and family is what really matters. Gray grew up with values, often unapparent to others, that keep him from going too far in the field. He grew up with several brothers and a sister and for the earliest part of his life had no idea what his family really did. They sheltered him from it until he was ready to know the truth. That truth didn't come until it was nearly too late.
Gray joined the military. He was in the army on tour in the middle east when he encountered his first taste of the supernatural world. They seemed like normal middle-eastern villagers. Lured into their village on their patrol, Gray's team didn't pose a very good chance. They had the resilience and constitution of ghouls. Meaning they wouldn't go down without a good headshot or leg shot. Most of his team was felled by their inhuman stamina with mere farm tools. Their adversary was quick and dangerous but he had and the remainder of his squad had the resolve to survive. It wasn't until later that he understood what they were. They weren't undead. They were the "blessed warriors" of a demonic duke known as Abigor that had been piggybacking on wars and feeding off of them since iron was used as a weapon. It made sense why he'd be making his rounds in the most war torn nation in the world.
On his return to the States Gray reunited with his family. Upon hearing his experience they began to explain to him the finer parts of their history. The Conover's have been killing monsters for nearly two-hundred years. Gray had a legacy he was willing to uphold.
Unfortunately that legacy was difficult to acquire with the councils of creatures banded together throughout the world. With the councils keeping everything in check his family didn't indulge in hunting so much anymore. The councils were a necessary evil but they were still monsters and Gray couldn't personally trust them to keep things steady. He needed a group that would let him bypass getting a hit on his head by an organization that vastly overpowered him. It took a while and he took up jobs killing rogue beasts in the process which the council overlooked because of the nature of the cases. He wasn't that good at first. Not many people are. The evil monsters that let themselves be tracked by an amateur are generally the easiest to kill. Gray had mistakes and near-death experiences but his resolve and ingenuity always had the tendency to save him.
When you're feeling hand over hand through the dark you always find something.
Psychological Profile: Gray seems to be morally ambiguous to people who don't know him. To those who do, they see the bold line he won't cross. If a creature isn't a killer and has no potential to be he won't take its life. He sees many jobs he's taken as necessary evil to protect humanity. Overall he views himself as a protector, but damn if he doesn't like a good paycheck.
Gray loves humor in all its forms. He'd be pretty depressing if he couldn't take a good joke every now and then. Even if it's completely misplaced and awkward.
Possessions:
Gray has two large suitcases that are normally too heavy for normal airport admittance. One stores his set of armor. The armor is customizable on the job with many spots for Kevlar inserts, a bite guard, a helmet and a few other minor items to help him adapt to circumstances. Teeth, claws or (preferably not) bullets. He's got something to give him some edge.
Aside from a few spots in the first suitcase for some Glocks and ammunition (Affordability, you lose guns a lot when you're hunting.) he has saved room in his other suitcase for a few sets of street clothes(primarily gray t-shirts, blue jeans and a black jacket) and a compartment for his modified AA12 with silver slugs in three drum magazines. Either crammed in this case or in a car he keeps an Ares 16 with a variety of attachments for use as a long-to-mid range rifle and a grenade launcher(For that beasty who just doesn't want to go down).
Gray wears a small titanium chain around his neck that has several items dangling from it. A small pot-like skull about the size of a thumb that has dried herbs in it, consisting primarily of wolf's bane to ward off a werewolf's ability to smell him. A small alienish shell filled with holes is also affixed to it. This shell happens to be the only item he has that is magic and he only uses it as a last chance item. Thankfully he's only ever used it once before. He isn't quite sure if it has lasting consequences but man does it become handy in a bind. By saying a set of keywords the artifact teleports him an indeterminate distance away to a random location(or whatever location it wants him at, he really has no idea if it has its own agenda. Eerie). The last item dangling from his chain is a simple Celtic cross because it's cool.
A useful item that is never far from his reach is his trusty silver kukri knife.
Yes, and:
Arachne, a master of information has a real talent for finding what she needs and hiding what should stay hidden. Well, Arachne found Gray Conover. A relatively easy, if a little volatile, person to manipulate and point at targets. Contracting Gray for missions with a high paycheck is really quite easy to do. |
46,660 | 1,263 | 184 | 2,377 | 482 | Beth's knees sunk into mud but she kept her eyes shut tight and her hands over her ears. Even then she could hear the jingle of the pendant swaying in the old woman's hand, and her cackle, like something out of a bad movie. It took fast-paced footfalls originating from behind her to get Beth to raise her head. She turned and saw four men sprinting towards her, pistols in hand and definitely not belonging to the jungle. Her body began to move of its own accord and she jumped to her feet. She ran forward, past the faded visage of the old woman, back into the jungle.
The shouts continued, fainter if she sped up and louder when she slowed. Beth tried to push the image of the witch from her mind and instead think of the team she came here with. They would ground her. All must be experiencing some illusion, as they had when it began. It was a trick, designed to defeat them, and it had worked at least on her. But who else, if anyone?
"This way!" The voice, distinctively different from those of her pursuers, cut through their shouts. She paused, unsteady in her footing, to listen. The jeering stopped and Tony's voice came again, accompanied by the sound of helicopters. "Hurry!" Beth took off again, following his call. Without the weight of her delusion, she ran faster and, after some effort, became intangible.
As the trees and undergrowth began to shift in the wind of the choppers, she spotted one flying low up ahead. Then she saw Tony with Parael on his back, then the hunter. Beth would never admit being happy to see him, but Tony and their infant friend were welcome sights. She felt her confidence returning already, secure in her ghostly state.
Before she caught up to them, she called out for the others and tried to pinpoint their energy signals. "This way! Head for the helicopters!" | Name: Rikive Heimdalsdóttir
Age: ?
Gender: Female
Breed/Species/Type/Lineage: Deity
Physical Description:
Talents:-Hand to hand combat (including 'god like' speed and strength)
-Extraordinary eyesight (in light or dark), heightened hearing and extremely high endurance
-Healing magic
History:Rikive is the daughter of the God Heimdall and an elven maiden named, Alfrún. She spent most of her life in Asgard, in the hall of her father. She had always been curious about Midgard, but finally came to the mortal realm due to the encouragement of her father.
When she came to Midgard she did not know nor understanding the rules of how the supernatural were to interact with human society. For the most part she had done well adjusting to modern life, it wasn’t the first time a god had gone to Midgard to pretend to be human. She had picked up on certain social norms, but some had escaped her notice. She had learned rather harshly that duels of honor were not accepted anymore.
One unfortunate encounter with a particularly obnoxious man, he lost one hand and she was the one arrested.
That one incident and she found herself in debt to the system set up to keep order with supernatural beings. Some had told her to merely run and return to Asgard, but she stubbornly denied such an idea. She would repay her debt as she was honor bound to do.
A few times she had been tempted to make the debt dwindle a little faster using...less than savory means. She was strong and skilled, certain operations would have paid her a lot of money to provide them with protection. However she always refused, it wasn’t right.
Psychological Profile:Quiet, reflective, and idealistic. Interested in serving humanity. Well-developed value system, which she strives to live in accordance with. Extremely loyal. Adaptable and laid-back unless something she holds in high regard is challenged. Mentally quick, and able to see possibilities. Interested in understanding and helping people.
Possessions:-Winterthorn an enchanted blade, it's powers/abilities:
- Sheath transforms into a viking round shield
Yes, and:When Rikive first arrived to Camden and she was still adjusting to modern human society, she met Parael by chance. He proved to be a great teacher (in his own fun, flamboyant manner), helping her to adapt to Midgard as it is now and she considers him a good friend. She is currently helping him by standing as protection and keeping watch for his daycare center. |
46,661 | 1,264 | 0 | 411 | 87 | Ｔｈｅ Ａｒｒｉｖａｌ
Trudging along the path shrouded in copious amounts of mystical fog, Daichi approached the school at a sluggish rate. While looking up at the vast sky, he slowed down to a halt to let the warm rays travel through the gaps of the foliage and onto his skin. The Nocturne squinted and brought the back of his hand to his forehead, shielding his sensitive eyes from the bright illumination. As he was doing so, Daichi noticed the atmosphere changing around him; the farther along the path he traveled, the lighter the fog became. He spotted a clearing ahead, and his face lit up with excitement almost immediately. Almost there... he thought to himself, gradually changing from a fast walk to a sprint. He adjusted the black beanie he had adorned on his head when he felt his ears twitching from eagerness, and he nearly broke into a run when he noticed a building surrounded by copious amounts of trees and waterfalls.
By the time he came face to face with the gates leading to the building, Daichi was completely out of breath. He clutched his chest and hunched over to support himself on his bent knees. Taking deep breaths, the Nocturne glanced up at the building once again, just to make sure what he was seeing wasn't a figment of his imagination. Finally- I finally made it! The new student grinned to himself as he stood up straight once again, slowly regaining his composure. He crossed his arms in front of his chest, admiring the view before preparing to take a step forward. Just as he was about to advance, a jolt was immediately sent through Daichi's body, putting him on high alert- his body had sensed an ominous presence from a distance, causing him to leap backwards away from the gate.
"Who's there?" Daichi called out, his sharp eyes darting around the heavily decorated trees. He brought one of his hands to his necklace, clutching the jewelry in a tight fist. After a moment of silence, he scanned the area for another creature. -Nothing. He opened his eyes and released the necklace, only to look over his shoulder and realize a projectile attack was just launched at him. On instinct, the Nocturne back-flipped out of harm's reach and into a more open area. He crouched on the ground for a moment when he landed, still searching exhaustively for who or what attacked him.
Daichi let out a scoff and rose from the ground, a smug expression on his face. "Heh, what's the fun in hiding?" He rolled up the sleeves of his jacket, clearly exposing the black leather gloves he wore on his hands. Cracking his knuckles, he started hopping around as if to taunt his potential pursuer. "Show yourself. I could use a nice warm up." As he said these words, a black silhouette flashed right before him- he simply leaned to the side, easily dodging the assault. A wide grin came across his lips, and he held his hand out in front of him, turning to face the exposed enemy. "Huh, so this is some kind of test? I love it here already." At that statement, Daichi opened his palm and in an instant, his eyes changed from their original golden hue to an chilling blue, corresponding to the shards of ice that he shot rapidly at the shadowy figure.
Shortly after the fragments of ice pierced the target, it disintegrated into the air completely. The Nocturne let out a heavy sigh, content with his job well done. "Too easy." he mumbled under his breath, smiling broadly to himself. His brushed his hands together and stretched his arms behind his back, letting out a satisfied grunt. While he stood there reveling in his work, an unfamiliar voice echoed through the forest. "Congratulations, Kuroda Daichi. You have successfully completed the final step for your acceptance into Rosewood. Performance rank: Ａ." The student raised an eyebrow and rubbed the back of his neck, his look of triumph changing to one of curiosity. "Hm... so I passed?" Daichi shrugged and made his way back to the gates, this time noting that they were already open for him. | Name: Ｋｕｒｏｄａ Ｄａｉｃｈｉ
Class: Ｅｓｓｅｎｔｉａ
Race: Ｎｏｃｔｕｒｎｅ
Appearance:
›Very тαll αɴd ѕleɴder αɴd ѕтαтυre, Dαιcнι мeαѕυreѕ αт αroυɴd 6'3" αɴd υѕυαlly weαrѕ α вlαcĸ вeαɴιe тo cover нιѕ proтrυdιɴɢ ғelιɴe eαrѕ.‹
Power Ranking: Ａ
Electives: Mαgιcαℓ Hιѕтσяу & Ƥσтιση Mαкιηg ✔
Character's Characteristics: Uɴlιĸe нιѕ ιɴтιмιdαтιɴɢ αppeαrαɴce, Dαιcнι ιѕ α very plαyғυl αɴd αpproαcнαвle perѕoɴ wнo loveѕ тo crαcĸ joĸeѕ. Doɴ'т ɢeт oɴ нιѕ вαd ѕιde тнoυɢн; нe вιтeѕ.
Main Powers based on Class: Mαηιƒєѕтαтιση σƒ ǀcє αη∂ Mιѕт- ѕσмєтιмєѕ νєησмσυѕ
Backstory: Born and raised in the well-renowned region of Matara, Daichi was constantly prowling the many heavily crowded swamps in search of something new- something interesting. With that mindset, the adventurous Nocturne decided to embark on a trip away from his large family to The Barren Lands, where he hoped to bring some change to his monotonous life. Of course, such a journey would not be easy; The Barren Lands are not divisions that can be taken lightly. Daichi prefers not to speak much about his experiences in the hazardous areas, but he is certain that this experience helped him to discover the true capacity of his powers, thus leading him to enroll in Rosewood; the school for the gifted.
Other Info: His family consists of 4 sisters and 3 brothers, meaning he comes from a family of 10. He may not look it, but he is also a very family oriented guy who treasures those he cares for and holds dear. The necklace adorned around his neck is always there- it was a gift especially from his deceased grandfather who entrusted it to him as a token of protection. |
46,662 | 1,264 | 1 | 1,706 | 30 | Dᴇsᴅᴇᴍᴏɴᴀ Cᴏʀᴄᴇʟʟᴀ
It was miles of trees and fog; it seemed never ending. Desdemona knew the journey would be a long one, but she didn't anticipate this. She lost track of when things became so quiet, there were no birds or any other animals around. The lack of sound was almost maddening to someone who was used to the noisiness of Esprit. Desdemona continued to walk down the rocky path, holding on to her confidence that Rosewood couldn't be too much farther.
Time had passed, Desdemona was gradually losing patience and when she almost gave up, the gates of Rosewood appeared before her.
"Finally." She says with relief.
The moment of happiness is quickly interrupted by a strange feeling that passes through her. It was quiet-too quiet, Desdemona knew there should've been some sort of noise coming from the campus, she couldn't have been the only one there. The abnormal feeling intensified, until she felt a sudden shock causing her to turn around creating a barrier of protection.
A surge of energy collides with the barrier; sparks of fire ricochet landing on the nearby grass and trees. The blast lasts for only a few seconds before it ends, leaving multicolored smoke behind. The mysterious attacker reveals itself levitating. It bears the appearance of a black silhouette.
Laughing can be heard as the smoke dissipates.
"Is that the best you can do?" Desdemona taunts the figure. In an instant another blast is launched towards her, this time with more power. The impact caused a wider area to be set ablaze, it was definitely a strong enough attack to be fatal.
While concealed in the smoke, Desdemona begins to draw a conjuring circle in front of her. The circle glows spewing dark embers that form into a shape; an ancient behemoth carcass materializes. It swings its tail clearing all of the smoke around them. Desdemona stares coldly at the silhouette while motioning for the behemoth to attack.
The carcass lunges, slashing the silhouette with lightning speed, executing it effortlessly. Before completely descending to the ground, the behemoth disappears. A voice begins to speak, "Congratulations, Desdemona Corcella. You have successfully completed the final step for your acceptance into Rosewood. Performance rank: A."
The gates to Rosewood open for her.
"I was expecting something harder than that." Desdemona says with disappointment while moving forward. | Name: Dᴇsᴅᴇᴍᴏɴᴀ Cᴏʀᴄᴇʟʟᴀ
Class: Nᴇᴄʀᴏᴍᴀɴᴄᴇʀ
Race: Dᴇᴍᴏɴ
Appearance:
5'4" tall/Curvy Build
Power Ranking: A
Electives:
-Magical History
-Potion Making
Character's Characteristics:
Ruthless and arrogant. She loves a good challenge and is definitely someone you shouldn't get on the bad side of. Has a soft spot for cats.
Main powers: Uses harvested magic of the dead as a way to amplify her own strength. Can resurrect dead creatures for various amounts of time depending on how strong the creature is.
Backstory: Desdemona Corcella has been through rigorous magical training her whole life. She has fought the dangerous creatures in the Barren Lands and Wilds, and has been accustomed to death from a young age. As the sole heir of a world-renowned family of demons, she has to maintain the tradition of dominating any competition with the use of powerful necromancy. Desdemona's family holds her to a very high standard, and doesn't accept any failures. Any level of disappointment will result in extreme punishments and because of this Desdemona has devoted most of her efforts into becoming the best at everything she does. Desdemona is currently at Rosewood and sees it as another test to prove her superiority to her family.
Other info: Dislikes Pixies, she sees them as being annoying bugs and wishes she could squash them all. |
46,663 | 1,264 | 2 | 2,422 | 1,600 | Reas Grimorea
Reas sped through the forest on his skates, ducking and dodging branches as they entered his veiw. The boy's ribbon of fire streaming behind him but never catching on any of the foliage as it only passed right through everything. The Rollerblades tore up the ground underfoot while keeping at a constant speed, blowing back Reas' hair but barley making a noise. "This is it... Rosewood, lets get this year started" He said as he stopped in a clearing and sat down to take a break for a minute looking straight ahead at the . As he sat in the clearing Reas cleaned his skates, picking out the rocks that had gotten wedged in the wheels. 'Wonder what that sound is...' Reas thought when he heard some noises coming from further ahead as he stood back up and continued on towards the gates of rosewood.
The way Reas took to get to the gate took him around a patch of burnt grass or a frozen tree which he suspected was from the elementalist students of Rosewood. The wildlife seemed to not mind him speeding past or jumping over them which was a bit of a strange behavior to Reas as he was used to things moving when he came near them. The silent hum of his skates were replaced by the caw of a large scaled bird which came diving at his head beak first, Reas responded in turn by doing a quick turn on his heels and delivering a devastating kick to birds neck breaking it with an audible *crunch* and flinging the body against a tree. As the body slumped over Reas gave a quick look upwards for any other animal that would want to attack him, satisfied that he had stopped any future attacks he continued on to Rosewood.
As Reas Neared the gates he stopped and launched to the left as a bolt of energy flew out of the bushes. He skidded to a stop only to turn and see a figure shrouded in black rushing him, at which point he formed an illusionary barrier of fire which stopped the person in its tracks. Reas' flames acted as a sort of one way glass, from the figure's side it was a roaring wall of fire but from Reas' side it was nothing but air. Another ball of energy flew through the fire and missed him by a mile but Reas decided it was time to end this. Reas reved his skates and flew forward through the fire making sure to shroud the area in darkness before lashing out with a Roundhouse kick to the temple of the figure, killing it almost instantly.
The figure dissapated into the air and a voice echoed through the clearing with the familiar message "Congratulations, Reas Grimorea. You have successfully completed to final step for you acceptance into Rosewood. Performance rank: A". Reas grinned at the rank that he had gained. "Nice test" he said as he rolled past the next clearing and up to the Gates of Rose wood which were open for him to pass right through. When he was through the gate Reas slowed his skates down to a brisk walking speed to look around at the other students and the large building. | Name:
Reas Grimorea
Class:
Illusionist
Race:
Human
Appearance:
5'6" tall / 127 lb not much muscle tone but looks solid. instaed of the red sweat shirt it is black
Power Ranking:
A
Pick 2 Classes of your Choice:
1. Art
2. Cooking
Character's Characteristics:
Very studious, Never without his Rollerblades, Likes sour foods but doesn't eat much, likes to practice regular boxing and a modified style of Kick-boxing which revolves around using his Rollerblades as a means of accelerating his legs to insane speeds. He has a bad habit of being stobborn when faced with a challenge, though is often nice to others who share interests with him.
Main Power(s) based on Class:
Adept at making enviromental illusions such as producing realistic fire and refracting light to blend in with his surroundings.
Backstory:
The son of a Skilled Mechanic and average magician who was badly injured when he refused to pay the local crooks "Chimera". Reas was given his Rollerblades a few weeks before he came to Rosewood where he is usually the quiet one in class.
Reas is always riding his rollerblades, so much in fact that most dont see him wearing any other shoes but there is a good reason for this as they help channel his powers. He was born with the medical condition "Muscle Hypertrophy" which caused his muscles to over develop as a kid and has increased his strength by 10 times which earned him the name cyclop's hammer from his strength.
Any Other Info:
Constantly has a ribbon of illusionary fire wrapped around his leg as a reminder of his quest to get revenge on the thugs that hurt his father. Will ride his Rollerblades in any enviroment as they are powered by his magic allowing him to push his speed to the limit and beyond as well as boost his general leg power (jumping, running, ETC), Reas was known to get into fights and had earned the nickname cyclop's hammer for his strong punches that were like being hit with his namesake weapon |
46,664 | 1,264 | 3 | 231 | 133 | Zensei Zaza
Little whiffs of air quickly paced in and out of his tiny lungs as he fluttered behind a distant oak. In the pitch black forest, Zensei's lime colored glow would be terrible for hiding, but luckily the fog was insanely dense. The grizzly beast came to a halt, leaving only silence to be heard. "Damned soda pop..." Zensei whispered quietly, following that, a high pitched creaking noise radiated from his location, alerting the beast. It pounced after the sound and gained sight of the pixie.
Leaves slapped Zensei's face as the chase proceeded. The beast was slamming the side of it's body against nearby trees in attempt to frighten him, but their distance from each other increased as the grizzly lost stamina. Turning around to taunt the beast, "Hah! fat piece of-", a branch smacked the back of his head sending him to the ground.
Nearly unconscious, a gust of warm air encased Zensei's body. The beast's teeth sank into him, but before they could penetrate his skin, it's bottom jaw blasted away, smacking against a distant tree. The sound of the impact echoed throughout the forest as the beast let out a despairing roar. Zensei floated up above the creature and began throwing it from tree to tree, using each one as a gravitational magnet, every impact echoed a cracking noise and a loud cry that sounded like a dog whimper. Zensei stopped mutilating the sack of meat when a drop of sweat fell to the dirt. A smirk awoke across his face as he fluttered away from the brutal scene.
The sun had just started to rise when the gates of Rosewood came into view. The golden twists and swirls, the big and majestic waterfall, the glowing blue lights, and the freshly cut grass all sparkled into Zensei's mind.
He opened his mouth in amazement and slowly approached the amazing school, then in an instant, blue translucency took control of his vision and body. He quickly began to get colder as multiple black silhouettes appeared in front of him. Without oxygen, Zensei struggled to make his area and the surrounding areas lose gravity, but he luckily began to float along with the grass and water around him.
Unable to move, he increased the gravity as much as he could, cracking the ice that trapped him. The images of the black silhouettes began to grow in front of him so he quickly smashed against the ground once more, completely shattering it. The multiple silhouettes turned into just one and stood right in front of him. Zensei dove under it ignoring the ice that would slice his cheek and made the glistening shards of ice rise into the clouds, away from anyone's view. "Oh shit." It groaned, looking at the sky and hearing an approaching whistle sound. The first shard impaled the grass just a few inches from the figure's foot. It darted away as the second shard came falling down. Zensei laughed and taunted the figure. "Where are you going? Come play with me!" The ice fell increasingly faster, one after the other, until it looked like it was raining icicles. He stopped when he only had one shard of ice left. It was too quiet.
Out of nowhere, the black figure jumped towards Zensei while screaming, sending black smoke into his direction. He slowly began to laugh "Good thing I kept that extra shard."
Blood slid down his cheek as an announcement was made from what seemed to be the sky. "Congratulations, Zensei Zaza. You have successfully completed the final step to your acceptance into Rosewood. Performance rank: B."
He slowly walked towards the gates with one hand held out. His vision began to darken and he lost his balance, landing in the cold, wet, and demolished grass. | Name: Zensei Zaza
Class: Gravitin
Race: Pixie
Appearance (Picture or Description or Both): (Ignore the flower xD)
Power Ranking (Look at "School Info" in the Doc): B
Pick 2 Classes of your Choice (Combat Training, Survival, and Spell Casting are required for all students.):
1. Potion Making
2. Art
Character's Characteristics: Very flirtatious, likes to spy on people in the shower, very hyper when eats sugar. Also attempts to be a bad bitch like Nicki Minaj or Azealia Banks
Main Power(s) based on Class: Making things rise then slamming them on the ground, opening locks from the outside.
Backstory (If Any): Zensei had a very creepy childhood. His mom was a black widow and his dad was a magical butterfly. Every day he had to eat bugs his mom caught for him. But one day his mom ate his dad, he cried for days on days. Afraid of what his mom would do next, he fled, almost getting jumped by her. Through all the fog he saw the gates to what looked like a college for magical creatures, and at that moment decided to attend. Also a lot of hot people will probably attend so that's another reason.
Any Other Info, if any: Has green sparkles/green glow. Favorite color is green. Loves to paint with sparkles. |
46,665 | 1,264 | 4 | 1,576 | 358 | Nodah Listig
Nodah trekked past a boulder with moss growing on one side in the choking fog, blinking against smokey arms that reached forward to blind him. His footfalls were all but silent; Nodah was no elf, but he had learnt early how to tread quietly, cautiously, that his movements made no more than a spirit's whisper as he crept through the trees. The foot he had raised froze, inches from stepping into a murky puddle of water. Its surface made for a poor looking-glass, but as Nodah withdrew his leg and landed it elsewhere dry, he could see through the gloom a shining pair of eyes that glowed yellow. He blinked, and the cat's glare was replaced by two glittering jade gemstones.
A rustle in the bushes. Nodah's breath caught in his throat. He whirled around, one hand ghosting to his waist, and the other adjusting the strap of his travelling bag on his shoulder. The possessions he'd brought were few to speak of, but they existed to burden him now, in the dense vegetation where Nodah knew not the beasts and threats. He lifted the bottom of his shirt, breaths shallow and eyes flickering in the darkness. One finger traced the handle of a blade, tucked neatly into his belt beside its five other brothers. His skill did not lie in dagger-throwing, but in corrupting the laws of gravity and flinging objects around for his amusement. Yet, what good were his powers if he lacked proper fodder? Here in the forest, Nodah did not think pine cones and leaf-litter would deter a fanged predator thirsting for blood, no matter how forcefully he cast them.
Nodah stretched out a hand to the forest floor, and his fingers flexed. A fallen branch whizzed into his grasp, and his fist curled clenched around it. Crouched into the hunter's stance, he held it before him, ready to beat at the beast that hid in the shadows if it pounced on him. He peered around him, surveying the arena for the lion to his Roman, and stilled when his gaze swept over Rosewood.
Up ahead, towering above the fog, was a tall regal structure. The archaeology was excellent, its design breathtaking. Most of all, it was his harbinger of safety and security, and only a few yards away.
Relief flooded his throat and threatened to make his words thick. He did look forward to a night in a bed after his journey. Letting his breath out in a detoxifying sigh, Nodah stepped forward, abandoning the stick he had picked up in a frantic, senseless moment.
It was the wrong move. Something bellowed in his ears, and Nodah spun on the spot, heart quickening. "Wha - " He felt the hurricane-gust of wind toss the locks of his hair carelessly, felt the grit of kicked-up sand drag its raspy hand over his cheeks. Nodah's eyes narrowed against the dirt. His right hand snatched up a dagger, and he raised it to his brow, shielding his face. But this did not obscure from his vision the featureless silhouette that roared towards him. With his heart in his throat and curses on his tongue, Nodah leapt to the side, slashing at the chest of the silhouette with his dagger. The steel blade parted through it, like smoke. Nodah's mouth went dry. How was he to defeat a shade?
He swung out the hand that held the knife, and concentrated, remembering the boulder he had passed. The silhouette had turned its head, and its smooth, blank face stared at Nodah. Like something from a dream, it slanted itself, facing Nodah with languid movements. Nodah jerked his outstretched arm and folded it over his chest. With a scream of protest, the boulder came flying past the trees. The shade was right in its path. His other hand reached out, and just before the boulder could smear the silhouette, Nodah made a violent fist. There was a split-second of pause, as the atmospheric pressure surrounding the boulder peaked dramatically, and the granite surface crumpled, like a sheet of parchment that had been crinkled wastefully into a ball. There was a deafening crash. Nodah ducked, curling his body away from the torrent of stone fragments that pelted his skin. He felt one strike his elbow, and gasped at the sharp dash of pain and release, as blood undoubtedly rose to swell. When Nodah looked up once more, the silhouette was gone, and he was alone.
Plunging the dagger back into its sheathe, Nodah looked down at the unevenly-shaped pebbles that now lay scattered. He rose his foot and took a step, the forest-floor crunching like gravel beneath him now. As he walked towards the school, he inspected the cut on his elbow. It was neither fatal nor worthy of concern, an accident, was all.
An echoing voice rang, "Congratulations, Nodah Listig. You have successfully completed the final step for your acceptance into Rosewood. Performance rank: Ａ." Nodah did not break stride, eyeing the open iron-wrought gates that loomed before him. "Hooray for me," he muttered hollowly, flashing eyes flat.
Nodah was going to step over the threshold, into Rosewood. Why could he not summon the joy, the triumph, the relief, of having acquired a position in a prestigious school, where attendance was a privilege? He thought of what he had left behind. He should have been overwhelmed by emotions to have successfully escaped his past, that treacherous monster that had until so recently been his present. Except, Nodah wasn't. Nodah could not muster the feelings required of him.
He almost walked right by the pixie. Eyes shuttered close, clothes green, and hair the colour of emerald, the creature was breathing, curled up on the ground. He was stained crimson, from a wound on the head. It was the blood that compelled Nodah to kneel - he who summoned everything to his hands before he bent. The pixie was no larger than a fruit. Nodah's lips quirked in bemusement, and he leaned forward to inspect the pixie further, eyes flashing indigo, then blue, then yellow, as he took in every detail. One finger brushed the pixie's hair aside gingerly, looking for the wound. When he was satisfied with what he'd gathered, Nodah prodded the minuscule shoulder for a reaction to gauge his degree of consciousness. | Name: Nodah Listig
Class: Gravitin
Race: Human
Appearance: Lanky and tall. Light hazel hair is always tousled and messy. 175 centimeters tall, and 54 kilogrammes heavy. Light on his feet, with dexterous fingers. Looks delicate, but is more than capable of holding his own. Default eye colour is blue. (Any Other Info)
Power Ranking: A
Elective Classes: Magical History; Potion Making
Character's Characteristics: Nodah is a diplomat at heart. His policy is one of caution: never burn bridges before you have walked them. He follows whatever means necessary to attain what he desires. To him, life is to be played as a game. His humour is sly, and his deeds always coldly-calculated. Nodah is wont to keep his distance, while exuding undisputed and amiable confidence. He grins easily. He is skilled and well-versed with his powers, but would rather appear as one of the best rather than the best.
Main Power(s): Manipulating the movement of objects, and summoning them. He enjoys making merchandise fly off shelves in shops, out of mischief, boredom, or a partnership of both.
Backstory: He came from parents who were so enthralled in the throes of their dissolving marriage, that their son ceased to hold significant importance in their eyes. Nodah despised being invisible to them as they erupted and then tiptoed, brawled and then retreated, drunk and strung high on the destructive nature of their clashes. While they were occupied with their perpetual tango, he focused on discovering his powers. For a boy who’d known only camouflage and dismissal, the magic he wielded was his one crutch, and saving grace. He has come to highly-value his powers, for they gave him first belief in his worth.
Any Other Info: Nodah is in reality deeply insecure, and is subject to nightmares and anxiety often. Not that he would let anyone know, however. Also, with his volatile emotions, his eye colour is subject to changes according to his mood. It is a quirk he is unable to properly explain. |
46,666 | 1,264 | 5 | 231 | 133 | Nuna Mori
Strolling casually through the dense fog, Nuna observes the vegetation surrounding her intently. The significance of the forest expounds further than just a body of greenery; it is home to various creatures and herself. Inspecting the path, she noticed the detrimental state it was in. "Some idiot was skating through these grounds with no respect for you. Bastard." The tracks led a long path and she figured it may direct her towards the school. Stepping forward, she began singing an incantation.
"I think that I shall never see
A poem lovely as a tree.
A tree whose hungry mouth is prest
Against the sweet earth's flowing breast."
The melodic tune that echoed from her mouth had a reaction with the earth. The tire strewn ground began eroding and reforming as Nuna enchanted it with her verses. As she proceeded farther ahead, the renewed earth was vibrant with its flora. Feeling exhilarated from the feat performed, she was ready to purge all impurities. As the breezes passed, rustling the foliage, blowing her hair, and hoisting fragrances, she was taken aback by a certain odor. "What is this... blood?!" Eagerly rushing forward to investigate, she was appalled by the horrific scene before her. Blood splattered amongst trees and the mass of an animal were stagnant before Nuna. She slowly approached the mutilated body of the half-dead beast.
Without hesitation, she conjured the power within her and began healing the beast. As she stretched her arms forth, the wind began swirling around collecting leaves. The leaves filed upon the mass, emitting a radiant light. "Rise." The beast roared back to vitality with the impression it was still engaged in battle. She felt herself losing grip of her consciousness but was prevented from hitting the ground by the monster. She thanked the creature and decided that she could ride the bear to speed up her journey. Mounting the animal, it was ordered to ride off into the direction specified. Mori had to make up for lost time through this mean.
The creature ran with haste and led her quickly out of the forest. On her way out, she spotted the mangled neck of a bird and looked away in disgust. She arrived at a clearing where the school was visible. Mori dismounting the creature was shown affection with nuzzling. After the intercession, the bear was told to depart and be well.
Nuna came across a peculiar inscription on the ground, giving off some sort of satanic ritualistic vibe. She spent a few more moments taking in the scenery around her. "Something feels off here..." The Druid paced around the vast field, examining the various remnants left behind from what appeared to be battles; the bark on some trees were charred, multiple puddles of water were scattered throughout the area, and... the smell of blood was getting stronger. Nuna made her way slowly over to one of the damaged trees, hesitating before she placed the tips of her fingers on the burn. "Speak. Tell me of----" In an instant, her eyes widened and flashed with a bright yellow. She threw her head back, gasping for air as images starting reeling in her mind. Quick glimpses of a previous battle appeared before her- a blurred recollection of a shadowy silhouette materialized and was launching fireballs at what appeared to be a demon, drawing the same incantation that Nuna had seen just seconds before. The Succubus slid down onto the damp grass, still grasping the tree before she was torn from her vision. She closed her eyes as she took deep breaths, gradually regaining her composure. So these... 'things' attacked other students...
The time she spent gathering her bearings on the ground left her defenseless, and she was suddenly struck from behind with a blunt force. The impact was so strong, Nuna was immediately sent flying, her body limp from the attack. She tumbled across the ground, picking up dirt as she skidded to a halt. She remained motionless, almost unconscious. However, as she heard the crunching of grass beneath someone's feet, her eyes opened slowly. Nuna's vision was blurry when she looked up at the violent creature, wielding the brass knuckles that assaulted her. Just before the figure prepared to launch its final blow, she managed to gather enough strength to avenge the foe.
Powerleαғ
Upon whispering this statement, a torrent of wind began to collect leaves. They swirled above their heads before suddenly lashing out at the enemy, lacerating the shadow relentlessly until there was no remainder of the dark energy.
She eventually stood up, grabbing her shoulder and cracking her neck. "Damn, the grass..." She brushed off her skirt and was stunned by a loud booming voice. "Congratulations, Nuna Mori. You have successfully completed the final step for your acceptance into Rosewood. Performance rank: B. (Seriously)" "Really. I cleaned up all the shit these bastards left behind for that?" Before proceeding to the gates she sings her verses and repairs the damage done to the environment.
In the vicinity of the entrance was a lanky, light hazel haired human. He appeared to be crouching over something, so Nuna approached with caution. Close enough to see, there laid a green colored fru--. Oh, it's a fair-- pixie. She was weakened by the huge consumption of energy and had to replenish it. She thrust herself upon the human, happily wrapping her arms around the boy's waist, slipping her hands beneath his shirt to get a feel. "Pardon the intrusion..." She licked her lips suggestively and grasped his elbow. The small gash was healed when she brushed her fingertips across. She gracefully moved towards the pixie, tending to his injuries. "This is more tragic than your wittle boo-boo, Mister." She picked up the little green fruit and cupped him in her palms. A radiant light shined through her fingers and she rejuvenated the damage done to the creature. | Name: Zensei Zaza
Class: Gravitin
Race: Pixie
Appearance (Picture or Description or Both): (Ignore the flower xD)
Power Ranking (Look at "School Info" in the Doc): B
Pick 2 Classes of your Choice (Combat Training, Survival, and Spell Casting are required for all students.):
1. Potion Making
2. Art
Character's Characteristics: Very flirtatious, likes to spy on people in the shower, very hyper when eats sugar. Also attempts to be a bad bitch like Nicki Minaj or Azealia Banks
Main Power(s) based on Class: Making things rise then slamming them on the ground, opening locks from the outside.
Backstory (If Any): Zensei had a very creepy childhood. His mom was a black widow and his dad was a magical butterfly. Every day he had to eat bugs his mom caught for him. But one day his mom ate his dad, he cried for days on days. Afraid of what his mom would do next, he fled, almost getting jumped by her. Through all the fog he saw the gates to what looked like a college for magical creatures, and at that moment decided to attend. Also a lot of hot people will probably attend so that's another reason.
Any Other Info, if any: Has green sparkles/green glow. Favorite color is green. Loves to paint with sparkles. |
46,667 | 1,264 | 6 | 411 | 87 | Ｋｕｒｏｄａ Ｄａｉｃｈｉ
Daichi stood among the massive sea of students, unable to hide the amusement on his face. Upon entering the large building, the Nocturne was completely taken aback by the beautiful interior design of the school- Rosewood certainly upheld its name as the most prestigious school in Mystia. Mysterious, elegant, and exquisite- Daichi couldn't put into words how breath-taking the building itself was. While he was lost deep in his thoughts, he noticed the line of creatures ahead of him had dwindled to just a few more people. Clearing his throat, Daichi stepped forward to come face to face with an elf that towered over him. "Welcome to Rosewood! May I ask for your name, race, class, rank, and electives chosen?" The large difference in height caused the yellow-eyed cat to pause, somewhat unfamiliar with an elf of such "caliber."
Sensing his hesitation, the elf tilted his head and offered the Nocturne a cordial smile. Daichi, snapping out of his bewilderment, brought his fist to his mouth and cleared his throat. "-Sorry, my name is Kuroda Daichi. Nocturne, an Essentia, and rank A." The elf behind the desk nodded his head and turned to the side, flicking his wrist upward to call forth a holographic HUD. The blue glow of the keyboard reflected brightly against both of their faces as they both stared at the intangible screen. "Magical History and Potion Making." With swift movements, the graceful creature's deft fingers swept across the letters, entering the provided information. Once he was finished, the elf ushered the device away, causing it to vanish in an instant. Before it faded away, a peculiar ornament materialized and slowly levitated onto the smooth surface of the table.
"Alright, here you go! Be sure to keep this with you at all times." The creature slid what appeared to be the paw of a kitten, its fur jet black and its pads matching the crimson red of the claws. Picking up the icon between his index and middle fingers, Daichi turned the necklace over slightly to read the text printed on the back. 10th floor. Daichi looked up at the elf and returned the warm smile with a slanted grin.
As he was putting the student-id around his neck, he continued walking towards the crowd of students gathered in the center of the lobby. On his way across the room, he glanced over his shoulder to scope out any other "competition." A few students seemed more distinctive than others, including the human with the ribbon of fire coiled around his leg and the white haired demon with a stare almost as cold as his own. He narrowed his eyes accordingly, being sure to note the necklaces both creatures were wearing. His focus quickly shifted to the jiggling handle of the large metal door, curious to see who- or what- showed up late to the orientation.
When the little green pixie came into view, Daichi couldn't help but let out a faint scoff; he had expected a creature a little more menacing. With that, the elf caught everyone's attention with his booming voice that echoed throughout the hall. Following his brief welcoming speech, the pixie he had chuckled at prior to Yayo's introduction flew over to the warping device after shouting something inaudible. He cocked one eyebrow and casually made his way over to the portal as well, ignoring the whispers and slight commotion the other students were making. Daichi put one hand on his hip and the corners of his mouth curved only slightly. "Looks like we're roomies." he mumbled, joining his new roommate on the teleportal. | Name: Ｋｕｒｏｄａ Ｄａｉｃｈｉ
Class: Ｅｓｓｅｎｔｉａ
Race: Ｎｏｃｔｕｒｎｅ
Appearance:
›Very тαll αɴd ѕleɴder αɴd ѕтαтυre, Dαιcнι мeαѕυreѕ αт αroυɴd 6'3" αɴd υѕυαlly weαrѕ α вlαcĸ вeαɴιe тo cover нιѕ proтrυdιɴɢ ғelιɴe eαrѕ.‹
Power Ranking: Ａ
Electives: Mαgιcαℓ Hιѕтσяу & Ƥσтιση Mαкιηg ✔
Character's Characteristics: Uɴlιĸe нιѕ ιɴтιмιdαтιɴɢ αppeαrαɴce, Dαιcнι ιѕ α very plαyғυl αɴd αpproαcнαвle perѕoɴ wнo loveѕ тo crαcĸ joĸeѕ. Doɴ'т ɢeт oɴ нιѕ вαd ѕιde тнoυɢн; нe вιтeѕ.
Main Powers based on Class: Mαηιƒєѕтαтιση σƒ ǀcє αη∂ Mιѕт- ѕσмєтιмєѕ νєησмσυѕ
Backstory: Born and raised in the well-renowned region of Matara, Daichi was constantly prowling the many heavily crowded swamps in search of something new- something interesting. With that mindset, the adventurous Nocturne decided to embark on a trip away from his large family to The Barren Lands, where he hoped to bring some change to his monotonous life. Of course, such a journey would not be easy; The Barren Lands are not divisions that can be taken lightly. Daichi prefers not to speak much about his experiences in the hazardous areas, but he is certain that this experience helped him to discover the true capacity of his powers, thus leading him to enroll in Rosewood; the school for the gifted.
Other Info: His family consists of 4 sisters and 3 brothers, meaning he comes from a family of 10. He may not look it, but he is also a very family oriented guy who treasures those he cares for and holds dear. The necklace adorned around his neck is always there- it was a gift especially from his deceased grandfather who entrusted it to him as a token of protection. |
46,668 | 1,264 | 7 | 1,576 | 358 | Nodah Listig
With a small sound of surprise in the back of his throat, Nodah lurched forward, and had to maintain his balance by rocking back on the balls of his feet. He felt his muscles tense without volunteer, as hands slithered around his middle, entrapping him in their iniquitous hold. He lost his breath for a moment, the air had thickened. In the corner of his eye, a wispy strand of blue hair waved like a ribbon.
“Pardon the intrusion,” he heard a girl say. Fingers found his iced skin beneath his shirt. Their tips felt sunbaked. His jaw locked almost painfully, Nodah’s eyelids fluttered closed, the warm press of a body against his stiff back. It would be the easiest thing to throw this girl off of him, and send her sprawling to the dirt, leave an impression or two as due penalty for her callous infraction. But that was un-chivalrous, and recollections of the gallantry lessons his mother had drilled into him with her brittle voice hammered a dull ache in his head, driving him to maddening confusion. Preservation, or patience? Retaliation, or restraint?
Nodah’s eyes sprang open. They burned in their sockets, turned the warmest ocher, with a frozen nugget of ice encased in each center of their heat. “Of course,” he lied breathily, forcing his muscles to relax beneath the girl's blanketing warmth. Nodah's mask of indifference returned to him, betraying not a trace of the upset that hadn't roots in the risqué nature of the druid’s actions. His elbow was touched, and no inspection was required to know that the girl had healed the superficial scratch. A druid, then, and a succubus as well.
Once she pranced away to the pixie, Nodah felt true relief. He straightened to his feet, and when the pixie was returned to the world of the living - leaving with haste - Nodah turned to the succubus.
“My thanks, fair lady,” he murmured. Despite this, the flecks of cold in his irises began to burgeon, unbidden. Like weeds, their crystal tendrils overran his pupils, until wintry blue had besieged what had been tawny eyes. At odds with his gaze, Nodah released a wane smile. "Though I must ask that you keep your affections away from a bashful man. You are beautiful; I find myself undeserving," glibly, he said. Poisonous thoughts rose like fumes in his mind, intangible to only him. His eyes were the only indications that they existed at all. Cast yourself upon me once more, and you shan't find me clement. This, he kept to himself. He must. Nodah did not burn bridges - be they inflammably wooden or crumbling stone - before he'd crossed them.
Nodah held the succubus' gaze a second longer, before turning to walk, his strides long. "A good day." By the time he came to the building, his broiling stomach had settled.
He saw that the pixie had unlocked the doors, and Nodah slipped in after him. With a light “Hm,” of appraisal, he raised his vision to the ceiling, sweeping downwards and taking in the extravagant interior. He tossed a glance at the queue of people he joined, heard Yayo Fiji address the pixie, and the pixie leave high-spirited, a Nocturne in his wake.
Nodah slid into place behind a horned demon and a youth on rollerblades – what curious company Rosewood kept – and fingered the strap of his bag, hands working restlessly as he amassed his thoughts (a nasty business). For several heartbeats in that copse of trees, he had been a skittish colt, vulnerable to the harmless, and which startled at every touch. That feeble cloak which had draped heavily over Nodah – atrophying his muscles and robbing his strength – had not only laid Nodah as bare as was conceivable, but had also brought forth memories of a scrawny youth, whom Nodah spent every waking moment running away from, but could never outpace and evade. The boy refused adamantly to be evicted, to be buried. In eternal preference to the cloak, Nodah donned his mask; yet, at times, the reins slipped from his knuckles, and he was forced to flounder and grope the floor for them, like a crippled beggar without his crutches. It did not matter that Nodah had thrashed only privately, only briefly. He had. And that was reminder enough that the boy - that loathsome being Nodah had once been in a life past - remained within him.
There wasn’t time to contemplate the riddle; people were stepping forward to Yayo Fiji’s desk. When it came to Nodah’s turn, he kept his eyes on the elf’s tapered fingers as he typed. “Nodah Listig. Human. Gravitin. Rank A.” Blue eyes flashed green at Yayo Fiji. “Though you might know that, seeing as you did just assign us our ranks at the gate.” He received a bright chuckle in return - the kind that compels you to tuck into the pocket of a summer coat, so that you might retrieve it while winter rages and feel your centre warm again - and Nodah allowed a smirk. “Magical History, as well as Potion Making.”
“Welcome to Rosewood, Mr Listig,” declared Yayo Fiji, his voice embroiled in warmth, soft and gentle as cotton. Nodah could learn to be fond of the man who ran the school. He held out an open palm to receive his necklace. Minute gold links joined hands to form a thin circuitous chain that glittered. The gold pendant was moulded to be a bird. At first glance, it took the specific shape of a lark, limitless and immortalised in a laugh. But Nodah peered closer, and the outstretched wingspan and hooked beak came together, like pieces of a puzzle, to form an eagle instead; frozen in mid-flight and mid-caw; no larger than half his thumb; cut from winking gold with intricate details, easy to overlook but combining to please the sight. A masterpiece, and no less.
He caught Yayo’s eyes as he slipped the necklace over his head. Tucked beneath his shirt, the kiss of gold felt cool against his heartbeat. “Thank you.” Nodah said, sincerity tasting odd on his tongue, before walking to the portal. As he waited for the next ride up to the tenth floor, he wondered at the reflection he had seen beneath the pendant’s unblemished golden surface. | Name: Nodah Listig
Class: Gravitin
Race: Human
Appearance: Lanky and tall. Light hazel hair is always tousled and messy. 175 centimeters tall, and 54 kilogrammes heavy. Light on his feet, with dexterous fingers. Looks delicate, but is more than capable of holding his own. Default eye colour is blue. (Any Other Info)
Power Ranking: A
Elective Classes: Magical History; Potion Making
Character's Characteristics: Nodah is a diplomat at heart. His policy is one of caution: never burn bridges before you have walked them. He follows whatever means necessary to attain what he desires. To him, life is to be played as a game. His humour is sly, and his deeds always coldly-calculated. Nodah is wont to keep his distance, while exuding undisputed and amiable confidence. He grins easily. He is skilled and well-versed with his powers, but would rather appear as one of the best rather than the best.
Main Power(s): Manipulating the movement of objects, and summoning them. He enjoys making merchandise fly off shelves in shops, out of mischief, boredom, or a partnership of both.
Backstory: He came from parents who were so enthralled in the throes of their dissolving marriage, that their son ceased to hold significant importance in their eyes. Nodah despised being invisible to them as they erupted and then tiptoed, brawled and then retreated, drunk and strung high on the destructive nature of their clashes. While they were occupied with their perpetual tango, he focused on discovering his powers. For a boy who’d known only camouflage and dismissal, the magic he wielded was his one crutch, and saving grace. He has come to highly-value his powers, for they gave him first belief in his worth.
Any Other Info: Nodah is in reality deeply insecure, and is subject to nightmares and anxiety often. Not that he would let anyone know, however. Also, with his volatile emotions, his eye colour is subject to changes according to his mood. It is a quirk he is unable to properly explain. |
46,669 | 1,264 | 8 | 2,422 | 1,600 | While the interior of the building was beautiful it didn't hold Reas' attention for very long since he was more interested in the other students. When he got to the front of the line he had been too distracted with the others there that he hadn't realized that the rather tall elf was sitting behind the desk drumming his fingers for a few second before clearing his throat. When Reas heard this he turned to face the root of the sound at met the gaze of the elf who's name tag said "Yayo Fiji". At first Reas was nervious but the warm smile that spread across the elf's face basicaly melted the tension away. "May I have your Name, Race, Class, and Rank please?" Yayo said as a screen popped up and waited for the requested information. Reas gave the information to Yayo and watched him enter it into a pop-up screen that reminded him of the kind his father used when building his inventions which he would let Reas test.
After the Info was entered Yayo pushed the screen off to the side and told Reas to hold out his hand. He did so and a Gold pendant materialized in his hand feeling as cold as ice on his palm. The pendant was in the shape of a golden blaze around a silver wheel which reflected the light making it shimmer when moved. Reas looked at the back of the pendant and saw the words 10-H, "Nice im on the top floor" he said before more people walked past him talking about being on the top floor too. Reas gave a small bow to Yayo and rolled towards the portal and stood there with the others waiting to go up to the top floor and meet his dorm-mates. The portal began pulling upward on reas as soon as he rolled into the area of it, he rather liked this pull though as it made him feel a little lighter. He slipped his pendant around his neck and bent down to change the magic adapter of his skates to slow them down to "safe" speeds so he wouldn't get yelled at for speeding in school.
Reas relaxed a bit as more people walked into the portal and he waited for the last of them to get in. The Ribbon of fire wrapped around his leg further to keep it out of other's faces and stopped it from moving around. | Name:
Reas Grimorea
Class:
Illusionist
Race:
Human
Appearance:
5'6" tall / 127 lb not much muscle tone but looks solid. instaed of the red sweat shirt it is black
Power Ranking:
A
Pick 2 Classes of your Choice:
1. Art
2. Cooking
Character's Characteristics:
Very studious, Never without his Rollerblades, Likes sour foods but doesn't eat much, likes to practice regular boxing and a modified style of Kick-boxing which revolves around using his Rollerblades as a means of accelerating his legs to insane speeds. He has a bad habit of being stobborn when faced with a challenge, though is often nice to others who share interests with him.
Main Power(s) based on Class:
Adept at making enviromental illusions such as producing realistic fire and refracting light to blend in with his surroundings.
Backstory:
The son of a Skilled Mechanic and average magician who was badly injured when he refused to pay the local crooks "Chimera". Reas was given his Rollerblades a few weeks before he came to Rosewood where he is usually the quiet one in class.
Reas is always riding his rollerblades, so much in fact that most dont see him wearing any other shoes but there is a good reason for this as they help channel his powers. He was born with the medical condition "Muscle Hypertrophy" which caused his muscles to over develop as a kid and has increased his strength by 10 times which earned him the name cyclop's hammer from his strength.
Any Other Info:
Constantly has a ribbon of illusionary fire wrapped around his leg as a reminder of his quest to get revenge on the thugs that hurt his father. Will ride his Rollerblades in any enviroment as they are powered by his magic allowing him to push his speed to the limit and beyond as well as boost his general leg power (jumping, running, ETC), Reas was known to get into fights and had earned the nickname cyclop's hammer for his strong punches that were like being hit with his namesake weapon |
46,670 | 1,264 | 9 | 1,706 | 30 | Dᴇsᴅᴇᴍᴏɴᴀ Cᴏʀᴄᴇʟʟᴀ
The college building was to no surprise, extravagantly decorated. Desdemona stood by the entrance, examining the area. It was somewhat noisy and filled with students, which was a relief from the silent trip to Rosewood. After a few moments, she notices the line for the identification necklace growing longer. “Great… Even more waiting.” she sighs. Desdemona tried to stay occupied by finding things to focus on other than the line, but in the end couldn’t stop herself from getting annoyed. It was finally her turn to get her necklace and the tall elf, Yayo Fiji, was behind the desk. “Welcome to Rosewood!” he greets.
He smiles at her, in exchange she frowns. “Is something troubling you?” Yayo asks. Desdemona makes a frustrated noise.
“Do you know how long I’ve been waiting?! I don’t understand why this line is so slow!” her outburst causes some heads to turn, she stares at the observers aggressively and they look away in fear. Yayo continues to smile at her “Now, now. Getting upset won’t make things go faster right?”
Desdemona realized the elf had a point, and slightly regretted making a scene. “Yeah, yeah, whatever knife ears. Just hurry up and give me my damn necklace.” she demanded. A holographic screen appeared by Yayo “May I ask for your name, race, class, rank, and electives chosen?” he asks.
“Desdemona Corcella. Demon. Necromancer. Rank A. Magical History and Potion Making.” she responds as Yayo enters in the information rapidly. As he finished typing, a skull necklace ornamented with diamond-like jewels appeared on the desk. Desdemona grabs the necklace, “Be sure to keep this with you at all times.” Yayo says as she quickly walks away.
Desdemona paced towards the teleportal located in the lobby. Looking her necklace she sees the dorm room on the back, 4-C.
“I hope my roommates aren’t annoying.” she mutters as she enters the portal. | Name: Dᴇsᴅᴇᴍᴏɴᴀ Cᴏʀᴄᴇʟʟᴀ
Class: Nᴇᴄʀᴏᴍᴀɴᴄᴇʀ
Race: Dᴇᴍᴏɴ
Appearance:
5'4" tall/Curvy Build
Power Ranking: A
Electives:
-Magical History
-Potion Making
Character's Characteristics:
Ruthless and arrogant. She loves a good challenge and is definitely someone you shouldn't get on the bad side of. Has a soft spot for cats.
Main powers: Uses harvested magic of the dead as a way to amplify her own strength. Can resurrect dead creatures for various amounts of time depending on how strong the creature is.
Backstory: Desdemona Corcella has been through rigorous magical training her whole life. She has fought the dangerous creatures in the Barren Lands and Wilds, and has been accustomed to death from a young age. As the sole heir of a world-renowned family of demons, she has to maintain the tradition of dominating any competition with the use of powerful necromancy. Desdemona's family holds her to a very high standard, and doesn't accept any failures. Any level of disappointment will result in extreme punishments and because of this Desdemona has devoted most of her efforts into becoming the best at everything she does. Desdemona is currently at Rosewood and sees it as another test to prove her superiority to her family.
Other info: Dislikes Pixies, she sees them as being annoying bugs and wishes she could squash them all. |
46,671 | 1,264 | 10 | 1,543 | 198 | Zephyr
Zephyr strode purposefully through the forest, not wanting to lose any more time than he already had. It was getting slightly darker, and the fog in the forest only thickened as he continued to walk. He could sense the conflicted nature of plants as he passed, affected by his demonic nature, but also by the fact he was a Druid. Destruction and healing was an odd and unusual combination, Zephyr knew. But he made it work. His abilities made the trip through the forest fairly easy, brambles on the ground shying away as if they were respectfully clearing a path for him.
Coming to what seemed to be a clearing, Zephyr paused and scanned the area suspiciously. It seemed there'd been a battle of sorts that had taken place. Blood, scorch marks, gouges in the earth. He allowed himself a small smirk, sensing the intents of the battle, or battles. So he was going to be tested? Brilliant.Bring it on, he thought, rolling his shoulders. He kept walking, more alert this time. Even with the extra attention, he was still surprised when a dark figure barrelled into him, knocking him to the ground. He leapt up again, looking around when he spotted the shade between the trees a few metres away. A shade? With substance? He noted with surprise, but then dismissed it. If it had physical substance, well, that just made it easier to hit.
He sprang up brambles next to the shade, which erupted out of the ground and nearly trapped the shade, but it was gone at the first noise. Zephyr groaned, but then whirled around as he heard a crack behind him. He was just in time to throw his scaled fist at the shade, stopping it in its tracks. There was none of the satisfying crunch you got from punching humans or virtually anything else, but he knew he'd made a solid connection, creating enough force to send it flying back towards a tree. He didn't waste any more time after that, splitting the tree the shade hit into two and quickly wrapping the remains around the shade, compressing until the shade dissolved into ashes that then disappeared. Fighting back the mild nausea that came from destroying plants, he strode over to the tree and healed the trunk. It kept its new mangled shape, but was vibrant and alive once more by the time he was done. Turning to face the iron wrought gates that now loomed out of the fog, he heard a ringing voice.
"Congratulations, Zephyr. You have completed the final step for your acceptance into Rosewood. Performance Rank: B."
A B? Really? Zephyr rolled his eyes and walked through the gates as they swung open for him and slammed shut behind him. For the first time, he looked around at the school with interest. There was no other word for it- Rosewood was majestic. It looked every bit the prestigious school, deserving the renown it had throughout Mystia. By this time, the line of students was fairly short. He stepped into line, still observing the students around him. He made sure nothing showed on his face but mild boredom, but noted with interest the elves, Nocturnes and other creatures he saw. He'd never seen so many different creatures in one place.
Once at the front, the elf at the desk gave him a warm smile. "Finally made it, eh? Please give me your name, race, class, rank and chosen electives."
"Zephyr. Demon. Druid. Magical History and Potion Making. Rank B." Zephyr gave the answers quickly and shortly, and just as quickly the elf typed in the data. As he did, a necklace appeared on the desk beside him. Made of an purplish metal, it had what seemed to be a long serrated tooth as a pendant, made of lightning ridge black opal. A thin thread of the metal snaked around the tooth.
Picking up the necklace, Zephyr noticed 10-H inscribed on one of the necklace links.
"That's your dorm room, make sure you keep this necklace with you at all times." The elf told him. With a noncommittal grunt, Zephyr nodded and strode away towards the portal, still looking around him. | Name: Lance Delmero
Class: Essentia
Race: Elf
Appearance:
Power Ranking: A
Electives: Art, Potion making
Character's Characteristics: Lance is an adventurous guy. Charismatic, good at making conversation, and easy going. He cracks jokes, likes to laugh, and makes everything seem effortless. He's also wildly competitive, and very possessive. Overall, he's pretty good natured. His anger isn't the furious kind, but the quiet, cold kind and he can hold grudges. Most of the time, though, he's fun to be around.
Main Powers: Particularly good with frost, ice, snow and water in general.
Backstory: Elves are a generally aloof race. Lance, who loves to explore everywhere
and meet everyone in the funniest way possible doesn't really fit into the mould, and was sent to Rosewood by his parents in an attempt to steer him towards something useful after he returned from a particularly disastrous adventure involving two incubi and a lot of snow.
Other: Lance likes animals a lot. Especially cats. |
46,672 | 1,264 | 11 | 231 | 133 | Nuna Mori
Nuna was astounded with this occurrence; a green fruit had bitten her breast and she was rejected by the boy. "The both of them don't know what they're missing out on. As for the green apple, his penance better be ready." She was angered by these events and almost forgot to inspect whether if that pixie left an imprint. Nuna looked down at her skin, paused, and raised her head once again. The rage that flowed out of her could not be expressed in words. "MY LUXURIOUS SKIN. I'm going to have to take a bite out of that fruit." She grumbled under her breath as she hurriedly entered the college building.
Entering the structure, she noticed the elegance of its interior, but she was too angry to dwell on that fact. She was ready to go to her room and relax. The identification line was relatively short compared to what she imagined.
She approached the desk, looking at the elf who waved his dexterous and stated, "Welcome to Rosewood! Your attempt to keep the exterior perimeter intact was greatly appreciated. If I may inquire, what is your name, race, class, and electives?" Nuna gave a cold stare at the elf, whose name tag read, Yayo Fiji. She was in no mood for games and continued glaring at the ecstatic elf. "If I may inquire- why do you need such information considering the fact that you already know of my doings and assigned my rank." The elf gave a smirk and stated, "You're perceptive aren't you. I see you are not in the best of moods, so let me not bother you."
Although this was true, Nuna reluctantly stated her information. "Nuna Mori. Succubus. Druid. Magical History and Art. Even though I should have done better: Rank B- seriously." As the elf's fingers moved instantaneously to the provided information, a necklace with a pendant attached materialized. Nuna inspected the intricate pendant. It was decorated with what appeared to be a ghost orchid; the spider web like plant had specs of blue that closely resembled the hue adorned on her head. The center was vivid with a yellow fluorescent flower. At this point, the elf had finished entering Nuna's demographics. "You must keep this on your person at all times." Dismissed from the table, she stared enduringly at the necklace and noticed it had scripture on the back. 4C. As she progressed to the portal, lost in the workmanship of the necklace, she caught a glimpse of a demon entering the building. What caught her gaze was the masculinity and scales covering one arm. "Intriguing", she stated as she continued through the portal. | Name: Zensei Zaza
Class: Gravitin
Race: Pixie
Appearance (Picture or Description or Both): (Ignore the flower xD)
Power Ranking (Look at "School Info" in the Doc): B
Pick 2 Classes of your Choice (Combat Training, Survival, and Spell Casting are required for all students.):
1. Potion Making
2. Art
Character's Characteristics: Very flirtatious, likes to spy on people in the shower, very hyper when eats sugar. Also attempts to be a bad bitch like Nicki Minaj or Azealia Banks
Main Power(s) based on Class: Making things rise then slamming them on the ground, opening locks from the outside.
Backstory (If Any): Zensei had a very creepy childhood. His mom was a black widow and his dad was a magical butterfly. Every day he had to eat bugs his mom caught for him. But one day his mom ate his dad, he cried for days on days. Afraid of what his mom would do next, he fled, almost getting jumped by her. Through all the fog he saw the gates to what looked like a college for magical creatures, and at that moment decided to attend. Also a lot of hot people will probably attend so that's another reason.
Any Other Info, if any: Has green sparkles/green glow. Favorite color is green. Loves to paint with sparkles. |
46,673 | 1,264 | 12 | 411 | 87 | Ｋｕｒｏｄａ Ｄａｉｃｈｉ
Turning his back towards the influx of students behind him, Daichi stood with his face towards the exterior of the portal as he remained as close to the exit as possible. After hearing the familiar shrill voice of a creature at the far end of the lift. That was when the gaze of his angular eyes met multiple times with the large, round ones of the pixie that had piqued his interest. Without dawdling too much on that fact, his eyelids fluttered closed when the doors of the teleportation device finally spun closed.
The smooth, reflective surface of the ground beneath their feet vibrated almost violently, slowly rotating with the large number of students scattered across it. Plenty of astonished gasps and surprised yelps filled the portal, but Daichi simply took a deep breath to tune out the world around him. He cleared his thoughts completely, and soon all background noise began to fade into nothingness. Through his eyelids, the rays of purple light that filled the small space brightened only slightly as the floor's counter-clockwise motion sped up in unison. Just when he was about to veer off into his meditative zone, he felt a sudden warmth envelope his arm just above his wrist.
Daichi snapped out of his thoughts and opened one eye, peeking down at the new presence he was suddenly accompanied with. The nocturne parted his lips in preparation to say something, but his actions were brought to a halt as soon as the dark blue mist was emitted from the ridges in the high ceiling. He quickly lifted his head, narrowing his yellow orbs at the unknown substance that was rapidly filling the space. The many precautionary thoughts that reeled through his mind were silenced when a strong jolt shook the whole teleportal. The nocturne was nearly thrown off his center of balance when the device started moving, taken aback by the abrupt movement and the overwhelming flashing of lights as the students traveled up the building with great speed.
The intense resonance that echoed through the area was quite displeasing to the sensitive feline ears, causing him to bring his free hand to one side of his head. Daichi staggered forward unsteadily when he was certain his destination had been reached. His vision was still blurred and foggy, and the hall that stretched out before him was somehow spinning in a similar fashion to the portal. A groan escaped the disheveled nocturne as he struggled to maintain his balance. He slumped over against what he assumed was a wall, still clutching half of his face.
"-Looks like we're on the tenth floor. By the way what's your name? Thank you for saving me by the way. By the way I love this carpet." Upon hearing the voice of the other creature, the bothersome ringing in Daichi's ears finally stopped, granting the cat some alleviation for his symptoms.
With a sigh of relief, Daichi looked down at his wrist to observe the other being closely. A slanted smirk spread across his face before he spoke up. "Heh, looks like you're right. I didn't even realize- I was a little out of it." He spoke casually, a cheerful tone prominent in his voice. "Kuroda Daichi. You?" As he sparked conversation, the nocturne brought the arm bearing the tiny little green fruit in front of him, hoisting the small pixie a few inches from his face. The green aura of the specimen before him illuminated his face appropriately, fascinating the black-haired creature as he took in the minuscule details. | Name: Ｋｕｒｏｄａ Ｄａｉｃｈｉ
Class: Ｅｓｓｅｎｔｉａ
Race: Ｎｏｃｔｕｒｎｅ
Appearance:
›Very тαll αɴd ѕleɴder αɴd ѕтαтυre, Dαιcнι мeαѕυreѕ αт αroυɴd 6'3" αɴd υѕυαlly weαrѕ α вlαcĸ вeαɴιe тo cover нιѕ proтrυdιɴɢ ғelιɴe eαrѕ.‹
Power Ranking: Ａ
Electives: Mαgιcαℓ Hιѕтσяу & Ƥσтιση Mαкιηg ✔
Character's Characteristics: Uɴlιĸe нιѕ ιɴтιмιdαтιɴɢ αppeαrαɴce, Dαιcнι ιѕ α very plαyғυl αɴd αpproαcнαвle perѕoɴ wнo loveѕ тo crαcĸ joĸeѕ. Doɴ'т ɢeт oɴ нιѕ вαd ѕιde тнoυɢн; нe вιтeѕ.
Main Powers based on Class: Mαηιƒєѕтαтιση σƒ ǀcє αη∂ Mιѕт- ѕσмєтιмєѕ νєησмσυѕ
Backstory: Born and raised in the well-renowned region of Matara, Daichi was constantly prowling the many heavily crowded swamps in search of something new- something interesting. With that mindset, the adventurous Nocturne decided to embark on a trip away from his large family to The Barren Lands, where he hoped to bring some change to his monotonous life. Of course, such a journey would not be easy; The Barren Lands are not divisions that can be taken lightly. Daichi prefers not to speak much about his experiences in the hazardous areas, but he is certain that this experience helped him to discover the true capacity of his powers, thus leading him to enroll in Rosewood; the school for the gifted.
Other Info: His family consists of 4 sisters and 3 brothers, meaning he comes from a family of 10. He may not look it, but he is also a very family oriented guy who treasures those he cares for and holds dear. The necklace adorned around his neck is always there- it was a gift especially from his deceased grandfather who entrusted it to him as a token of protection. |
46,674 | 1,264 | 13 | 1,576 | 358 | Nodah Listig
Nodah's breath was easily lost in the crammed portal. Jostled to the side, he pressed his back against the wall. Sorely tempted to change the gravity around him just for breathing space, Nodah diverted his attention to evening his breaths, to preserve sanity of mind in the crushing portal. Just then, he spied the succubus-druid entering the portal. His green eyes flashed blue. Honestly, Nodah, you do not leave a girl alone in the forest! he could hear his mother saying in her thready whisper of a voice, a ghost in spirit. Now apologise to her for your lapse in chivalry. Are you a gentleman, or a Neanderthal? Honestly!
Nodah gritted his teeth, unable to believe he was about to take imagined advise from a disembodied voice of his own making. But the turmoil her touch had brought was gone. It was the first day, and it would not do to sour relations so early in the term. He might not like the voice, but it had roots in his own mind, and he knew when he had spoken dismissively to the succubus that he had discarded his manners.
Nodah turned to the blue-haired succubus as best as he could in the crowded portal, by then wearing courtesy like a second skin. "I'm afraid I haven't had the honour of introducing myself to a fair lady," he said quietly. "My haste to reach Rosewood overcame my better judgement prior. I hope you will forgive me for abandoning you in the woods." He managed a small bow, staring at her from under his eyelashes whilst he bent. "I am Nodah Listig. Always a pleasure. May I know your name?"
When the portal kicked alive, blue fog descended upon them, someone began to scream. Nodah winced, the shrill sound piercing his eardrums. "Do be quiet," he moaned quietly, the words barely audible even to himself, as a flash stole his eyes, and a ringing noise even worse than the high-pitched keen robbed him of his hearing.
Nodah stumbled forward into newfound empty space, and knew it was over. He blinked rapidly, bursts of light spotting pitch-black vision. Where was his sight? He blinked once more, and found himself on his knees, his palms tracing over soft bristles. A carpet, then. Slowly, dots of light came into view, a waving grassland. Raising his head, Nodah saw the other students, among them the pixie from the forest clinging onto a Nocturne - who introduced himself as Kuroda Daichi - babbling away. Gathering his legs neatly beneath him, Nodah pinched the bridge of his nose. "I shall never use the portal again." | Name: Nodah Listig
Class: Gravitin
Race: Human
Appearance: Lanky and tall. Light hazel hair is always tousled and messy. 175 centimeters tall, and 54 kilogrammes heavy. Light on his feet, with dexterous fingers. Looks delicate, but is more than capable of holding his own. Default eye colour is blue. (Any Other Info)
Power Ranking: A
Elective Classes: Magical History; Potion Making
Character's Characteristics: Nodah is a diplomat at heart. His policy is one of caution: never burn bridges before you have walked them. He follows whatever means necessary to attain what he desires. To him, life is to be played as a game. His humour is sly, and his deeds always coldly-calculated. Nodah is wont to keep his distance, while exuding undisputed and amiable confidence. He grins easily. He is skilled and well-versed with his powers, but would rather appear as one of the best rather than the best.
Main Power(s): Manipulating the movement of objects, and summoning them. He enjoys making merchandise fly off shelves in shops, out of mischief, boredom, or a partnership of both.
Backstory: He came from parents who were so enthralled in the throes of their dissolving marriage, that their son ceased to hold significant importance in their eyes. Nodah despised being invisible to them as they erupted and then tiptoed, brawled and then retreated, drunk and strung high on the destructive nature of their clashes. While they were occupied with their perpetual tango, he focused on discovering his powers. For a boy who’d known only camouflage and dismissal, the magic he wielded was his one crutch, and saving grace. He has come to highly-value his powers, for they gave him first belief in his worth.
Any Other Info: Nodah is in reality deeply insecure, and is subject to nightmares and anxiety often. Not that he would let anyone know, however. Also, with his volatile emotions, his eye colour is subject to changes according to his mood. It is a quirk he is unable to properly explain. |
46,675 | 1,264 | 14 | 1,368 | 222 | Leval Lamrue
Leval focused the beam of light from his gloves trying to make sense of the rather messy handwriting of the old map in his hands. The fog rolling between the trees was incredibly dense, making what was already a rather difficult task into a near impossible one, as the fog hungrily ate in the light. Leval glanced up with his beam carefully examining the area around him, noises barely audible in the forest kept causing shivers of electricity to course down his body, raising the minuscule hairs on the back of his neck. ‘Paces,’ he thought letting out a muted sigh, ‘Who the hell still uses paces as a form of measurement?’ The shopkeeper had definitely swindled him. Leval had expected as much, but the prospect of a shortcut of Rosewood had been too much to resist. Now, rather than being the first one to enter the halls of knowledge from his dreams, he was three hours behind schedule.
A strange shape by a nearby tree caught his eye causing him to spin around gasping. A large scaled bird was crumpled against the towering tree, its neck smashed into the side leaving a red stain on the surrounding forest floor. “Oh god, it looks like it was hit by a sledgehammer- what could have done this?” Leval’s hazel eyes began to flit side to side, his shivering getting worse. Of course, he known that Rosewood was a strange place filled with “gifted” children, but it hadn't really hit him until now what he might be facing. Leval closed his eyes and imagined the knowledge he could find there. Books upon books, soaring towers filled with knowledge, and teachers that could answer every question burning in his mind about this world. His breathing stilled as he regained control, with one hand he reached to the bird and closed its eyes, before standing.
Leval looked around him, or as much he could with the fog blocking most everything from view. His right hand idly played with the bouncy tuft of brown hair as he looked for a way one of here, his left hand still clutching the useless map. The first test, he decided, was to get out of this forest. He moved his right hand down and turned on his gloves to their highest intensity. It didn’t provide much in the way of visibility, but it was enough. His eyes caught on to distinctive marks on the ground, a straight line churning up the earth where it based and the distinct impression of footprints all headed the same direction He smiled at the earth and straightened, thought still dwarfed by his surroundings.
“Well no time like the present.” Leval furrowed his brow and reach deep inside himself touching the source of his gift. Around him, light bent and writhed, shaping itself to his desires and layered itself around him. Where he had stood a moment before, there was a huge man, body made of nothing but muscle, holding a two handed clay-more in his hands. To Leval, however, nothing had changed except for a faint imprint in the air around him that let him know the power was working. He moved his hand through it, pleased with its in substantial form. ‘This will make anyone think twice about messing with me.’
The massive human illusion moved forward, keeping perfect pace with Leval's motions looking confident while inside, Leval maintained a nervous grin. The light was growing clearer and fog seemed to be thinning out steadily. And then Leval felt the air rush out of his lungs. The sight of the magnificent tower before him, the knowledge he could never find in the books of traders, and the waterfalls providing a beautiful backdrop to the scene.
And that's when a bolt of force slammed into Leval’s back, knocking the wind out of him and casting him forward into the stump of tree. He hit it with a resounding crack and fire lanced through his shoulder and he heard a distinctive pop. He let out a yelp filled with pain and shock. The illusionary appearance mimicked his actions though the sound of impact was much lower than it should have been for a man of his size. He wrenched his eyes open and looked over to where the blow had come from. A figure in a dark clothes covering his entire body stood behind him raising its hand for another blow. ‘Oh god oh god oh god,’ Leval thought as he scrambled back behind the trunk. The area had seemed fine before, no sign of earlier fighting. ‘Is this because I’m late?’ the mad thought raced across his mind.
Another bolt of force slammed through the tree making a fist sized hole through the tree itself and straight through his illusory head. The illusion quickly reformed as Leval stared, not breathing at the blast that would've taken his head. He heard the distinctive sound of feet approaching. ‘Run. Gotta run.’ His panic took over and he began racing through the trees, but quickly tripped on a fallen branch. He twisted his neck around, the figure behind him was approaching rapidly almost seeming to glide across the ground. Desperate, he reached for his magic once again, feeling the strength of it course through his body. His illusory image grew massive towering above him, 15 feet tall, muscles bulging and coursed with veins, wielding a blade almost as tall as him. The image roared with savage fury bringing the figure up short staring up as the illusion lifted the blade above his head and begin to bring it crashing down. The figure raised its hands to block the blade, and as he did so Leval came up from below, screaming wildly, and stabbed the sharp end of the branch he had tripped over into the figure with his good arm. The figure jolted almost as if it were surprised and disappeared into a puff of dark smoke, dissipating rapidly into the foggy air.
Leval rolled onto his back, his chest rising and falling rapidly, filling his air with good, life giving air. "Congratulations Leval Lamrue. You have successfully completed to final step for you acceptance into Rosewood. Performance rank: C"
‘...a test? Really?’ Leval rolled onto his stomach and blanched. The adrenaline in his system was fading and the pain in his shoulder was beginning to throb. He put his shoulder against and nearby tree, took a steadying breath, and lunged forward. His vision burst into bright white and agony caused stars to explode in his mind. Nevertheless, he felt his shoulder click back into place. After a few moments of recovery, he flexed his fingers, testing to make sure everything was still working. Somewhere in the confusion he had lost his map. Leval quickly reduced the size of his illusion to the hulking 6’6 brute, but did away with the sword. Then, at last, he strode through the gates mounting excitement propelling him forward. | Name: Leval Lamrue
Class: Illusionist
Race: Human
Appearance (Picture or Description or Both): In reality, Leval is 5’3” at 132 pounds. He keeps his brown hair cropped short to his head except for a small tuft in the front of his hair, which he takes a lot of pride in. His face is lightly freckled on his tan skin and his eyes are hazel. He has a slight overbite and a rather large nose. However, when Leval has his illusion up he most often appears as a rather idealized, intimidating version of himself.
Power Ranking: C
Electives:
-Magical History
-Potion Making
Character's Characteristics: Leval is a born liar and rather cowardly at times, though he pretends otherwise. However, when the cards are on the table Leval will stand up for those who treat him with respect. He is more curious about the world around him and loves learning about magic and history.
Main Power(s) based on Class: Appearance Illusions. Leval’s illusion magic is based in changing his appearance and the way other people perceive him. This power can change from appearing as someone else to illusory shapeshifting where it appears as though he is giant in form or wielding any type of weapon he can imagine. However, he has not mastered controlling the sense of touch so these illusions are easily seen through if someone tries to physically touch one. Knowing that Leval tries to make himself look as intimidating as possible to scare off his opponents.
Backstory (If Any): Leval was born in a small village where he was frequently targeted for his small size. When his magic manifested, his parents took him to a larger village where he could learn to control his power. They were always supportive and Leval takes care to write them as often as he can. Leval devoured all the books he could about magic and history and went off to Rosewood to satisfy his rampant curiousity
Any Other Info, if any: Leval has a pair of gloves with a small lightning opal attached to the top that produce light in a beam in front of him acting as a powerful flashlight. They were a gift from his parents. |
46,676 | 1,264 | 15 | 1,543 | 198 | Zephyr
As Zephyr approached the portal, he felt eyes on him and turned to meet the amber eyes of what seemed to be a Succubus. "Intriguing," she murmured, her eyes fixed on his arm. Zephyr was used to attention to his scales. At this point, he didn't care, especially if it meant the attention of a gorgeous creature like her. They reached the portal at roughly the same time, but before he could say anything in response a human started speaking, laying on more charm than virtually anyone he'd ever met. Did people still bow? Stifling a smirk, Zephyr focused his attention on the swirling surroundings that made up the portal.
The portal shifted with a sudden jerk that would have made a less stable person than Zephyr stumble, as dense blue fog descended. "There just has to be fog everywhere, doesn't there?" He muttered to himself, and then winced as a high pitched ringing filled his ears. There was a flash, the pitch of the sound increased until it was unbearable. Then, finally, it stopped. Zephyr's head ached, but he seemed to have managed better then the human, who was on the floor and mumbling something about never using the portal again. There were two others in the room as well, the second of which he almost didn't notice. A tiny green pixie on the arm of a Nocturne, babbling away. A long hall stretched ahead of him. The tenth floor, nice. Which must mean his dorm room was H? What Zephyr didn't see, however, was doors.
There were numbers that shone softly a few feet above the dark carpet, but he had no idea what their significance could be. He glanced towards the Nocture and pixie. They had been here first, and hopefully knew what to do. "I don't supposed any of you know where 10-H is?" He stated wryly, fixing his pale eyes on them."I'm Zephyr. Demon. Druid." He added shortly, getting any necessary introduction out of the way. Interestingly, he already felt more secure here. In the small town where he'd previously lived, humans had often had violent and terrified reactions to the nature of his being. Amusing though it often was, it had also gotten grating. Here, though, was none of that, although the steel like scales on his arm did stand out. | Name: Lance Delmero
Class: Essentia
Race: Elf
Appearance:
Power Ranking: A
Electives: Art, Potion making
Character's Characteristics: Lance is an adventurous guy. Charismatic, good at making conversation, and easy going. He cracks jokes, likes to laugh, and makes everything seem effortless. He's also wildly competitive, and very possessive. Overall, he's pretty good natured. His anger isn't the furious kind, but the quiet, cold kind and he can hold grudges. Most of the time, though, he's fun to be around.
Main Powers: Particularly good with frost, ice, snow and water in general.
Backstory: Elves are a generally aloof race. Lance, who loves to explore everywhere
and meet everyone in the funniest way possible doesn't really fit into the mould, and was sent to Rosewood by his parents in an attempt to steer him towards something useful after he returned from a particularly disastrous adventure involving two incubi and a lot of snow.
Other: Lance likes animals a lot. Especially cats. |
46,677 | 1,264 | 16 | 1,706 | 30 | Dᴇsᴅᴇᴍᴏɴᴀ Cᴏʀᴄᴇʟʟᴀ
The portal was definitely not what Desdemona expected. Soon after the students entered, the floor began to spin emitting a purple glow and fog. The onlookers were amazed by the change of environment. Desdemona scoffs at their reactions, “How childish…”. The faces of awe quickly turned to panic. Flashes of a bright light accompanied with a booming sound came suddenly, startling most of the passengers.
Confident that she could block out the commotion, Desdemona used techniques she was taught to keep herself grounded. It was working at first, but to her surprise all of the energy from the portal became overwhelming. Closing her eyes and covering her ears, Desdemona didn’t know another way to counter the effects it was inflicting on her body. “W-what is this?” Desdemona struggles to mumble as she was increasingly becoming disoriented.
Slowing opening her eyes, she could see a carpet lay out in front of her. It resembled a night sky filled with stars. Desdemona walks forward, leaving the portal behind her. The rest of the hallway came into view and her senses began to return. “I hope this school has even more surprises.” she says slightly intrigued from the portal experience. As she searches for her dorm, she spots a door that’s plated 4-C. “Looks like I found-“ interrupted by the sight of a succubus standing in front of the entrance, Desdemona figures that’s one of her roommates. “Looks like I have to sleep with one eye open.” she continues to walk closer. | Name: Dᴇsᴅᴇᴍᴏɴᴀ Cᴏʀᴄᴇʟʟᴀ
Class: Nᴇᴄʀᴏᴍᴀɴᴄᴇʀ
Race: Dᴇᴍᴏɴ
Appearance:
5'4" tall/Curvy Build
Power Ranking: A
Electives:
-Magical History
-Potion Making
Character's Characteristics:
Ruthless and arrogant. She loves a good challenge and is definitely someone you shouldn't get on the bad side of. Has a soft spot for cats.
Main powers: Uses harvested magic of the dead as a way to amplify her own strength. Can resurrect dead creatures for various amounts of time depending on how strong the creature is.
Backstory: Desdemona Corcella has been through rigorous magical training her whole life. She has fought the dangerous creatures in the Barren Lands and Wilds, and has been accustomed to death from a young age. As the sole heir of a world-renowned family of demons, she has to maintain the tradition of dominating any competition with the use of powerful necromancy. Desdemona's family holds her to a very high standard, and doesn't accept any failures. Any level of disappointment will result in extreme punishments and because of this Desdemona has devoted most of her efforts into becoming the best at everything she does. Desdemona is currently at Rosewood and sees it as another test to prove her superiority to her family.
Other info: Dislikes Pixies, she sees them as being annoying bugs and wishes she could squash them all. |
46,678 | 1,264 | 17 | 1,368 | 222 | Leval moved forward to desk of a huge elf figure smiling wildly. Glancing around the room, he saw very few people left- most seemed to be exiting through a glowing portal. His curiosity stirred from deep in his being, ‘How does that work?’ Several theories began running through his mind, but all of them seemed implausible. Leval frowned at it, “I’ll need a closer look, I suppose.” He was just about to go over for a closer look, but he was interrupted by a polite clearing of the throat. He looked back to Yayo Fiji rather embarrassedly, “Oh sorry.”
“No problem! Welcome to Rosewood! Can you please tell me your name, race, class, rank, and chosen electives?” With a start, Leval realized that Yayo was looking directly into his eyes, not those of his illusion.
“Umm Leval Lamrue, Human, Illusionist, Power Rank…” his voice dropped to a whisper, “C. And I would like to take Magical History and Potion Making please.” His eyes dropped down avoiding the steady gaze of the elf.
“Very well! I handle most of the jobs around here so I’m sure I will see you soon. Here is the key to your room make sure you keep it on you at all times.” On the desk a necklace manifested itself. The chain of the piece was made of polished bronze with a singular piece of Zebra stone carved to form dual theater masks, each half white and half black. As Leval examined it more closely, he saw that the eyes of the masks were filled in with gold, or something like gold, pyrite maybe. On the back of the key “4-C."
“Ah well- thank you!” Leval rushed off to the portal, his illusory appearance maintaining its calm as it walked into the portal. | Name: Leval Lamrue
Class: Illusionist
Race: Human
Appearance (Picture or Description or Both): In reality, Leval is 5’3” at 132 pounds. He keeps his brown hair cropped short to his head except for a small tuft in the front of his hair, which he takes a lot of pride in. His face is lightly freckled on his tan skin and his eyes are hazel. He has a slight overbite and a rather large nose. However, when Leval has his illusion up he most often appears as a rather idealized, intimidating version of himself.
Power Ranking: C
Electives:
-Magical History
-Potion Making
Character's Characteristics: Leval is a born liar and rather cowardly at times, though he pretends otherwise. However, when the cards are on the table Leval will stand up for those who treat him with respect. He is more curious about the world around him and loves learning about magic and history.
Main Power(s) based on Class: Appearance Illusions. Leval’s illusion magic is based in changing his appearance and the way other people perceive him. This power can change from appearing as someone else to illusory shapeshifting where it appears as though he is giant in form or wielding any type of weapon he can imagine. However, he has not mastered controlling the sense of touch so these illusions are easily seen through if someone tries to physically touch one. Knowing that Leval tries to make himself look as intimidating as possible to scare off his opponents.
Backstory (If Any): Leval was born in a small village where he was frequently targeted for his small size. When his magic manifested, his parents took him to a larger village where he could learn to control his power. They were always supportive and Leval takes care to write them as often as he can. Leval devoured all the books he could about magic and history and went off to Rosewood to satisfy his rampant curiousity
Any Other Info, if any: Leval has a pair of gloves with a small lightning opal attached to the top that produce light in a beam in front of him acting as a powerful flashlight. They were a gift from his parents. |
46,679 | 1,264 | 18 | 231 | 133 | Zensei Zaza
After hearing the the Nocturne and Druid introduce themselves, Zensei replied with a cheerful tone. "I'm Zensei Zaza and I'm better than you!" Following his rude remark, a human said something that immensely annoyed the pixie. "You better use the portal again you peasant!" He yelled, quickly releasing Kuroda's arm and starting away. "Follow me if you want to see our room." He said in a neutral, almost mysterious voice.
Turn after turn, dead end after dead end, the pixie kept searching for room 10-H. Then, the same voice that was heard after the test, boomed throughout the hallway. "In one hour it will be midnight. Your curfew begins at midnight. When your curfew begins, the beautiful carpet will grow longer and whip around, all while being electrified. I wouldn't try destroying it either, unless you like bolts of electricity being blasted at you." The pixie stopped breathing. Gradually releasing his voice, he screamed in fear. "Oh lordy I'm lost!" He felt great sorrow for what he had done, he lied.
He slowly descended to the luxurious ground and made his glow radiate larger, making it wobble and bubble around like wavy water. "Please accept my apology." He plead with a shaky voice. | Name: Zensei Zaza
Class: Gravitin
Race: Pixie
Appearance (Picture or Description or Both): (Ignore the flower xD)
Power Ranking (Look at "School Info" in the Doc): B
Pick 2 Classes of your Choice (Combat Training, Survival, and Spell Casting are required for all students.):
1. Potion Making
2. Art
Character's Characteristics: Very flirtatious, likes to spy on people in the shower, very hyper when eats sugar. Also attempts to be a bad bitch like Nicki Minaj or Azealia Banks
Main Power(s) based on Class: Making things rise then slamming them on the ground, opening locks from the outside.
Backstory (If Any): Zensei had a very creepy childhood. His mom was a black widow and his dad was a magical butterfly. Every day he had to eat bugs his mom caught for him. But one day his mom ate his dad, he cried for days on days. Afraid of what his mom would do next, he fled, almost getting jumped by her. Through all the fog he saw the gates to what looked like a college for magical creatures, and at that moment decided to attend. Also a lot of hot people will probably attend so that's another reason.
Any Other Info, if any: Has green sparkles/green glow. Favorite color is green. Loves to paint with sparkles. |
46,680 | 1,264 | 19 | 2,422 | 1,600 | Nuna Mori
Before having a chance to lose her temper or take a breather, she was surrounded by other students. Scanning their faces, Nuna paused her browse to be engaged in the looks of the tall human boy she groped. "I'm afraid I haven't had the honour of introducing myself to a fair lady. My haste to reach Rosewood overcame my better judgement prior. I hope you will forgive me for abandoning you in the woods. I am Nodah Listig. Always a pleasure. May I know your name?" Nuna instantaneously responded, "No, I am of apology my sincere mister. I wouldn't hesitate to abandon a person who performed such vulgar actions. Excuse me for such a scenario, being it was induced by special circumstances. I am Nuna Mori and do hope will get to know each other better."
Her conversation ended with a warm smile towards Nodah as her eyes traversed the area. The multiple races that were encased in the teleportal amazed Mori. She noticed the same demon with scales in the portal but caught the glimpse of a glowing green light. At that same moment, the teleportal had activated, muddling herself and the pupils. The intensity of turmoil the teleportal procured was unforgettable; the fog that impaired sight, the shrill of a scream that hindered hearing, and the ataxia caused by the sudden movement of the transporter. Though losing her composure, Nuna was able to distinguish the green fly from before clinging to the handsome Nocturne.
Offset by the tremor, she staggered onto the majestic carpet before her. "Things keep getting better, don't they?" Seeking the dorm hastily, what appeared was a door plated 4-C. "Whew... Finally." Mori stopped at the entrance about to enter but heard footsteps behind her. She thought of the worse but was eased at mind when she came to the conclusion that it may be a roommate. Turning around to face the creature, she couldn't resist the urge to begin giggling. She placed one hand over her mouth to prevent any outbursts. One thought ran through her head and it was the reaction of the demon to the activation of the transporter. You should have seen her. She was trying to act all stoic and then she almost went headfirst to the ground with all the commotion. She instantly stopped this behavior as the fellow student came closer. "Hello, I'm Nuna Mori. Nice to meet you! I am assuming that we will be living together in 4-C, right?" All of this was stated as she tried to keep her poise from the humor. | Name:
Reas Grimorea
Class:
Illusionist
Race:
Human
Appearance:
5'6" tall / 127 lb not much muscle tone but looks solid. instaed of the red sweat shirt it is black
Power Ranking:
A
Pick 2 Classes of your Choice:
1. Art
2. Cooking
Character's Characteristics:
Very studious, Never without his Rollerblades, Likes sour foods but doesn't eat much, likes to practice regular boxing and a modified style of Kick-boxing which revolves around using his Rollerblades as a means of accelerating his legs to insane speeds. He has a bad habit of being stobborn when faced with a challenge, though is often nice to others who share interests with him.
Main Power(s) based on Class:
Adept at making enviromental illusions such as producing realistic fire and refracting light to blend in with his surroundings.
Backstory:
The son of a Skilled Mechanic and average magician who was badly injured when he refused to pay the local crooks "Chimera". Reas was given his Rollerblades a few weeks before he came to Rosewood where he is usually the quiet one in class.
Reas is always riding his rollerblades, so much in fact that most dont see him wearing any other shoes but there is a good reason for this as they help channel his powers. He was born with the medical condition "Muscle Hypertrophy" which caused his muscles to over develop as a kid and has increased his strength by 10 times which earned him the name cyclop's hammer from his strength.
Any Other Info:
Constantly has a ribbon of illusionary fire wrapped around his leg as a reminder of his quest to get revenge on the thugs that hurt his father. Will ride his Rollerblades in any enviroment as they are powered by his magic allowing him to push his speed to the limit and beyond as well as boost his general leg power (jumping, running, ETC), Reas was known to get into fights and had earned the nickname cyclop's hammer for his strong punches that were like being hit with his namesake weapon |
46,681 | 1,264 | 20 | 1,543 | 198 | Zephyr
Zephyr stared in disbelief at the pixie as he apologized. Against his better judgement, he'd followed the obnoxious creature to dead end after dead end, even when it became obvious that he had no idea what was happening. His scaled fist clenched at his side as he resisted the urge to pick up the pixie and create a green stain on the carpet. They now had about an hour to find their dorm room before they were electrocuted by the carpet. The pixie was still on the floor, aura shaking as if he was about to start crying.
"What the hell is wrong with you?!" Zephyr groaned in frustration, not even sure if he was talking to the pixie or himself. Of course, he was an idiot for believing the tiny creature, and he was damned if he was going to wait around for Zensei to come to his senses and get a move on before they became ashes on the starry carpet. He looked at the numbers floating above the carpet more closely. The one closest to him read 10-R. Putting his palm against it, he nearly kept back in surprise as a grand oak door appeared in front of him, 10-R emblazoned in italics above his head. "Did you see that?" He asked, not necessarily to the pixie. However, even though he ached with every fibre in his demonic body to crush Zensei, he didn't necessarily want the carpet to be the one to get rid of him. "Come on. There has to be an order to this."
It took about fifteen minutes to find 10-H, and Zephyr tried not to cringe in embarrassment at how easy it had really been to find it. Placing his palm over the glowing letters, the door appeared and swung open for him. Pointed teeth displayed in a grin, he strolled in with his normal confidence, taking in the luxurious nature of the room. It didn't startle him. In the short time he'd been at Rosewood, he accepted such opulence to be the norm. A human had already reached the room and sat down on the bed labeled Reas Grimorea. He seemed fairly average, but had rollerblades on, which Zephyr found rather strange. It didn't bother him for long- he was used to how strange humans were, and it was a relief that he wouldn't be the only one dealing with that blasted pixie. Reaching a bed, Zephyr collapsed onto it with a satisfied sigh. The bed was almost unnaturally soft, giving Zephyr the sensation of floating on clouds. His name etched itself onto the headboard, and he sat up and looked at the human again. "What's your Class?" He asked him, sizing him up. | Name: Lance Delmero
Class: Essentia
Race: Elf
Appearance:
Power Ranking: A
Electives: Art, Potion making
Character's Characteristics: Lance is an adventurous guy. Charismatic, good at making conversation, and easy going. He cracks jokes, likes to laugh, and makes everything seem effortless. He's also wildly competitive, and very possessive. Overall, he's pretty good natured. His anger isn't the furious kind, but the quiet, cold kind and he can hold grudges. Most of the time, though, he's fun to be around.
Main Powers: Particularly good with frost, ice, snow and water in general.
Backstory: Elves are a generally aloof race. Lance, who loves to explore everywhere
and meet everyone in the funniest way possible doesn't really fit into the mould, and was sent to Rosewood by his parents in an attempt to steer him towards something useful after he returned from a particularly disastrous adventure involving two incubi and a lot of snow.
Other: Lance likes animals a lot. Especially cats. |
46,682 | 1,264 | 21 | 411 | 87 | Ｋｕｒｏｄａ Ｄａｉｃｈｉ
Although most of his attention had been focused on the small winged-creature latched onto his wrist, Daichi heard a few stumbles followed by a light thud behind him. The nocturne's eyes darted to the side, putting himself on high guard in preparation for the worst. His head eventually followed his eyes, turning to face the source of the noise. Relief came upon his face as he relaxed when he realized that there was no need for such caution; a rather flashy human had stumbled out of the fog and was gathering his bearings behind another creature, one much more eye-catching than the being behind him.
The all-white demon approached Kuroda and the pixie with a sardonic expression on his face. The almost transparent irises were trained on the two creatures that had arrived only moments before. Daichi's eyes drifted downwards towards the scales adorned on the arm of the creature who had introduced himself as Zephyr and immediately flitted back up to meet his gaze. A grin spread across the nocturne's lips in an instant as he appraised the new company.
Just as he opened his mouth to respond, the raucous voice of Zensei interrupted his train of thought. The pixie spoke in such a foul manner, even Daichi couldn't hide the scowl on his face. "-'s that so?" He mumbled under his breath, rubbing the back of his neck before trailing behind the others sluggishly. Kuroda would occasionally glance over his shoulder to see if the human from before was a part of the group-search for Room 10-H, but the nocturne was torn from his lax state of mind once again by both the threatening message over the loud speaker and the annoyance that was the green pixie.
"Oh lordy I'm lost!" Daichi's patience had dwindled when he realized all the time spent roaming the winding halls did nothing for the lost creatures. Clenching his jaw, the black-haired cat narrowed his angular eyes at Zensei, the small pupils contracting into even thinner slits. He brought his knuckles to the palm of his other hand, cracking his joints before forming a fist by his side. He felt his gloves heat up, indicating that his temperament had been lost. "So you're telling me you had no idea where the fu--"
Kuroda's sentence was cut off before his hands could erupt into flames when the demon had come across something of interest. "-I think you're on to something." His anger had vanished within seconds as Zephyr gained his attention, and he blinked to revert his eyes back to normal. Daichi followed along, running his clothed fingertips across the smooth surface of the walls in a childish manner. His face lit up when 10-H was finally found, and he pranced into the room nonchalantly. He nearly stopped in his tracks when the grandiose dorm came into view- an opulent two-floor loft complete with large windows that provided a breath-taking view of the campus.
Daichi made his way over to the stairs, familiarizing himself to the human who had already claimed a bed. Reas, huh? He had no trouble finding this room, I bet. The nocturne yawned loudly and flopped backwards onto the soft sheets of the bed, sinking down into the fluffy comforter with his arms folded beneath his head. With that, his name covered the headboard on its own, and Daichi could feel sleep creeping up on him almost immediately. | Name: Ｋｕｒｏｄａ Ｄａｉｃｈｉ
Class: Ｅｓｓｅｎｔｉａ
Race: Ｎｏｃｔｕｒｎｅ
Appearance:
›Very тαll αɴd ѕleɴder αɴd ѕтαтυre, Dαιcнι мeαѕυreѕ αт αroυɴd 6'3" αɴd υѕυαlly weαrѕ α вlαcĸ вeαɴιe тo cover нιѕ proтrυdιɴɢ ғelιɴe eαrѕ.‹
Power Ranking: Ａ
Electives: Mαgιcαℓ Hιѕтσяу & Ƥσтιση Mαкιηg ✔
Character's Characteristics: Uɴlιĸe нιѕ ιɴтιмιdαтιɴɢ αppeαrαɴce, Dαιcнι ιѕ α very plαyғυl αɴd αpproαcнαвle perѕoɴ wнo loveѕ тo crαcĸ joĸeѕ. Doɴ'т ɢeт oɴ нιѕ вαd ѕιde тнoυɢн; нe вιтeѕ.
Main Powers based on Class: Mαηιƒєѕтαтιση σƒ ǀcє αη∂ Mιѕт- ѕσмєтιмєѕ νєησмσυѕ
Backstory: Born and raised in the well-renowned region of Matara, Daichi was constantly prowling the many heavily crowded swamps in search of something new- something interesting. With that mindset, the adventurous Nocturne decided to embark on a trip away from his large family to The Barren Lands, where he hoped to bring some change to his monotonous life. Of course, such a journey would not be easy; The Barren Lands are not divisions that can be taken lightly. Daichi prefers not to speak much about his experiences in the hazardous areas, but he is certain that this experience helped him to discover the true capacity of his powers, thus leading him to enroll in Rosewood; the school for the gifted.
Other Info: His family consists of 4 sisters and 3 brothers, meaning he comes from a family of 10. He may not look it, but he is also a very family oriented guy who treasures those he cares for and holds dear. The necklace adorned around his neck is always there- it was a gift especially from his deceased grandfather who entrusted it to him as a token of protection. |
46,683 | 1,264 | 22 | 1,368 | 222 | Leval Lamrue
Leval stepped onto the portal’s pad, the other students had already gone up in a purple light. He walked around the portal’s perimeter looking around for clues as to how it worked, but didn’t find anything of note. He remembered the students cries as the portal had activated, ‘This might be a rough ride.’ With that thought in mind, Leval strode to the center of the platform and laid down on his back. “How does this activate?” he called over to Yayo. Instead of reply, a purple light blazed up through the floor and a blue fog came down. His eyes widened and then tightly shut as loud blaring noise resounded through his ears. With a lurch the portal began to make upwards.
The force pressed down on Leval, flattening him down, but he managed to maintain control of all his senses. His shoulder throbbed with the added pressure, giving him something else to concentrate on besides the chaotic swirl of his inside. Then, it all stopped all at once. Opening his eyes, Leval found himself floating amongst the stars. He blinked, ‘No, just a carpet. How much did this cost?’ He rose quickly and looked around, numbers lined the walls seemingly emblazoned on the walls. ‘4-C, 4-C, where is it? Why wouldn’t there be a map or something?” An announcement sounded in the hall. "In one hour it will be midnight. Your curfew begins at midnight. When your curfew begins, the beautiful carpet will grow longer and whip around, all while being electrified. I wouldn't try destroying it either, unless you like bolts of electricity being blasted at you."
Leval stopped and looked at the floor. What was what beautiful and serene now came off as death lurking in the shadows.’Nope, nope, nope.’ Leval scanned the walls walked quickly through the halls. Finally, he saw the 4-C on the wall just around the corner, in front of the door were two figures a demon girl with horns protruding from her head and a tanned succubi in the midst of a giggle. Both were taller than what he actually was. Around the corner, he contemplated what to do next. A succubus was concerning as one touch would dispel his illusion, but the demon woman had an aura of power that set his hairs on edge. He altered the shape of his illusion to 8 feet tall with spikes protruding all over his body, and scars covering his face. Hopefully that would be enough to dissuade any physical contact. He left his brown tuft of hair in its usual upon his forehead, style was important after all.
Rounding the corner, he nodded to both of other occupants. “I’m Leval, we seem to be roommates. I do not like to be touched, if you respect that we will get along fine.” With that he entered the lavish room. The beds all seemed to be unclaimed to he picked the one closest to the door. His name carved itself as he laid down. ‘Hell of a first day.’ | Name: Leval Lamrue
Class: Illusionist
Race: Human
Appearance (Picture or Description or Both): In reality, Leval is 5’3” at 132 pounds. He keeps his brown hair cropped short to his head except for a small tuft in the front of his hair, which he takes a lot of pride in. His face is lightly freckled on his tan skin and his eyes are hazel. He has a slight overbite and a rather large nose. However, when Leval has his illusion up he most often appears as a rather idealized, intimidating version of himself.
Power Ranking: C
Electives:
-Magical History
-Potion Making
Character's Characteristics: Leval is a born liar and rather cowardly at times, though he pretends otherwise. However, when the cards are on the table Leval will stand up for those who treat him with respect. He is more curious about the world around him and loves learning about magic and history.
Main Power(s) based on Class: Appearance Illusions. Leval’s illusion magic is based in changing his appearance and the way other people perceive him. This power can change from appearing as someone else to illusory shapeshifting where it appears as though he is giant in form or wielding any type of weapon he can imagine. However, he has not mastered controlling the sense of touch so these illusions are easily seen through if someone tries to physically touch one. Knowing that Leval tries to make himself look as intimidating as possible to scare off his opponents.
Backstory (If Any): Leval was born in a small village where he was frequently targeted for his small size. When his magic manifested, his parents took him to a larger village where he could learn to control his power. They were always supportive and Leval takes care to write them as often as he can. Leval devoured all the books he could about magic and history and went off to Rosewood to satisfy his rampant curiousity
Any Other Info, if any: Leval has a pair of gloves with a small lightning opal attached to the top that produce light in a beam in front of him acting as a powerful flashlight. They were a gift from his parents. |
46,684 | 1,264 | 23 | 1,706 | 30 | Dᴇsᴅᴇᴍᴏɴᴀ Cᴏʀᴄᴇʟʟᴀ
Arriving at the dorm entrance, the succubus standing in front turned around and faced Desdemona. Failing at stopping her sudden urge to chuckle, the succubus introduces herself “Hello, I'm Nuna Mori. Nice to meet you! I am assuming that we will be living together in 4-C, right?”. Confused as to what she did to make Nuna laugh, Desdemona gives her a cold stare “We won’t be roommates for long if you keep that up.”. Nuna makes a somewhat shocked expression and begins to open her mouth to speak, but Desdemona interrupts her “I’m Desdemona Corcella, someone you definitely shouldn’t be laughing at.”
A towering creature covered in spikes and scars approaches them. The being radiated a strange magical presence, so Desdemona could tell something was off about it. “I’m Leval, we seem to be roommates. I do not like to be touched, if you respect that we will get along fine.” The creature introduces himself and quickly walks into the room afterwards. “Touch me and you die.” Desdemona says in a threatening tone to Nuna. Not wasting any more time, Desdemona also enters the dorm.
The room was extravagant like the rest of the school. Not caring which one it was, Desdemona picked a random available bed. As she sat down, her name was being etched on the headboard. Looking around further analyzing the room, she sees Leval and wonders “Why is there a guy in here anyway?”. She couldn’t dwell on the thought for long, her tiredness was finally catching up to her. Laying back, resting her head on the soft pillow, she quickly drifted off to sleep. | Name: Dᴇsᴅᴇᴍᴏɴᴀ Cᴏʀᴄᴇʟʟᴀ
Class: Nᴇᴄʀᴏᴍᴀɴᴄᴇʀ
Race: Dᴇᴍᴏɴ
Appearance:
5'4" tall/Curvy Build
Power Ranking: A
Electives:
-Magical History
-Potion Making
Character's Characteristics:
Ruthless and arrogant. She loves a good challenge and is definitely someone you shouldn't get on the bad side of. Has a soft spot for cats.
Main powers: Uses harvested magic of the dead as a way to amplify her own strength. Can resurrect dead creatures for various amounts of time depending on how strong the creature is.
Backstory: Desdemona Corcella has been through rigorous magical training her whole life. She has fought the dangerous creatures in the Barren Lands and Wilds, and has been accustomed to death from a young age. As the sole heir of a world-renowned family of demons, she has to maintain the tradition of dominating any competition with the use of powerful necromancy. Desdemona's family holds her to a very high standard, and doesn't accept any failures. Any level of disappointment will result in extreme punishments and because of this Desdemona has devoted most of her efforts into becoming the best at everything she does. Desdemona is currently at Rosewood and sees it as another test to prove her superiority to her family.
Other info: Dislikes Pixies, she sees them as being annoying bugs and wishes she could squash them all. |
46,685 | 1,264 | 24 | 231 | 133 | Zensei Zaza
"Hey wait for me!" Zensei shouted to the two creatures that obviously hated him. His face quickly transformed from sadness into a frown before he followed them to 10-H.
Entering the room, he swelled up with passion. The room was illuminated with vibrant green lighting. On a table in the middle of the room was the control panel for the light's color and intensity. He then noticed the granite stairs that led up to the bedroom. "This place is amazing." A tear rolled down his cheek as he fluttered up the stairs and planted himself onto the bed left of Kuroda. Kuroda's bed is left of Reas', and Reas' bed is left of Zephyr's. The remaining one to the right of Zephyr was empty for another creature.
If there's one thing the pixie learned from his magical butterfly dad before he was eaten by his mom, it's how to effectively apologize to other creatures. "Hey Kuroda," Zensei said as he rolled over to face him. "will you accept my apology? If you do I'll give you somethin'" Hoping his bribery would work, he rolled back over to face the ceiling. His bright green eyes widened when he noticed that there was a skylight. Above it was a large tree that filtered some starlight, casting shadows of leaves across his bed and tiny body. "Oh my oh my, that reminds me! I hope that last guy comes before the carpet goes pow pow!" | Name: Zensei Zaza
Class: Gravitin
Race: Pixie
Appearance (Picture or Description or Both): (Ignore the flower xD)
Power Ranking (Look at "School Info" in the Doc): B
Pick 2 Classes of your Choice (Combat Training, Survival, and Spell Casting are required for all students.):
1. Potion Making
2. Art
Character's Characteristics: Very flirtatious, likes to spy on people in the shower, very hyper when eats sugar. Also attempts to be a bad bitch like Nicki Minaj or Azealia Banks
Main Power(s) based on Class: Making things rise then slamming them on the ground, opening locks from the outside.
Backstory (If Any): Zensei had a very creepy childhood. His mom was a black widow and his dad was a magical butterfly. Every day he had to eat bugs his mom caught for him. But one day his mom ate his dad, he cried for days on days. Afraid of what his mom would do next, he fled, almost getting jumped by her. Through all the fog he saw the gates to what looked like a college for magical creatures, and at that moment decided to attend. Also a lot of hot people will probably attend so that's another reason.
Any Other Info, if any: Has green sparkles/green glow. Favorite color is green. Loves to paint with sparkles. |
46,686 | 1,264 | 25 | 1,576 | 358 | You better use the portal again you peasant! Nodah perked an eyebrow at that. Had the pixie no filter when he talked? Methinks I might be regretting ever pausing for the creature at the gates of Rosewood, thought Nodah, as he rose to his feet. He was surrounded by as curious company as there had been in the lobby.
The pixie fluttered away, a green butterfly in the darkness. Now steady, he walked behind the group as they hunted for the room, hoisting his bag over his shoulder. His feet ached in his shoes; how appreciative he would be for a bed at the moment! And then came the booming announcement, and though a chord of fear rang in Nodah's heart at the promise of inevitable, painful death in the case of probable failure, he found it difficult to believe a school would so easily cull off its recruits, newly-minted coins that had yet to taste the world that was Rosewood. But he was not so foolhardy as to linger long enough to see whether Rosewood would carry out on its promise. He only had to follow the party of three, and he would have little to worry.
But then the pixie bemoaned his lack of direction, and in the darkness, Nodah froze. Of course, he sighed inwardly. The hiccup he had been waiting for, the shoe that had just dropped. The pixie - the guide they had been relying on - was incompetent as a leader. But the demon - Zephyr, was his name - had stumbled upon something, and in no time they were through the door. The pixie flew in after them, and with but a beat of hesitation, Nodah followed suit.
The pixie was at the top of the fine granite staircase by the time Nodah had taken in his fill of the first floor. Extravagant - and stupidly so - it was lit green, fitted with luxuries Nodah himself had never dreamt of. He felt incredibly out of place. Only his magic bound him to this school, where his humble beginnings stood at complete odds with the prestige of this lavish building. I'd best prove myself worthy then, Nodah thought, and began to climb the stairs, picking up on the murmurs of conversation from the second floor. He caught the stringy threads of an apology from the pixie, though it seemed to be directed at only one when Nodah thought it owed to two, including the demon Zephyr who had found 10-H when the pixie failed.
"Oh my oh my, that reminds me! I hope that last guy comes before the carpet goes pow pow!" Nodah heard as he reached the last step, taking in the beds that looked impossibly soft just from where Nodah stood. "I apologise for my lateness, but as it seems, you need only call before I appear," he said flatly, staring at the pixie, beside whom was Kuroda who seemed to be resting. His eyes swept the headboards, and read their names. The pixie was Zensei, a human with rollerblades which seemed to flicker with a lick of firelight went by the name of Reas Grimorea, and the boy next to the empty bed was called Zephyr. Nodah went to claim the remaining bed, glad to be in the corner for some semblance of privacy.
Throwing down his bag at the foot of his bed, Nodah raised his foot to stamp it against one of the bedposts, bending down to undo his laces. As he did so, his own name unfurled in etchings across the headboard. He glanced at the cursive font, feeling a smirk twirk at his lips, and flickered his eyes to his dorm-mates. His fingers made quick, deft work of the knots on both of his shoes, and he slipped them off his feet as he said, "How do you do? My name is Nodah Listig." He sat on the bed, testing how easily it yielded beneath his weight, and pulled his bag onto his lap, carefully surveying the creatures he would now bunk with. | Name: Nodah Listig
Class: Gravitin
Race: Human
Appearance: Lanky and tall. Light hazel hair is always tousled and messy. 175 centimeters tall, and 54 kilogrammes heavy. Light on his feet, with dexterous fingers. Looks delicate, but is more than capable of holding his own. Default eye colour is blue. (Any Other Info)
Power Ranking: A
Elective Classes: Magical History; Potion Making
Character's Characteristics: Nodah is a diplomat at heart. His policy is one of caution: never burn bridges before you have walked them. He follows whatever means necessary to attain what he desires. To him, life is to be played as a game. His humour is sly, and his deeds always coldly-calculated. Nodah is wont to keep his distance, while exuding undisputed and amiable confidence. He grins easily. He is skilled and well-versed with his powers, but would rather appear as one of the best rather than the best.
Main Power(s): Manipulating the movement of objects, and summoning them. He enjoys making merchandise fly off shelves in shops, out of mischief, boredom, or a partnership of both.
Backstory: He came from parents who were so enthralled in the throes of their dissolving marriage, that their son ceased to hold significant importance in their eyes. Nodah despised being invisible to them as they erupted and then tiptoed, brawled and then retreated, drunk and strung high on the destructive nature of their clashes. While they were occupied with their perpetual tango, he focused on discovering his powers. For a boy who’d known only camouflage and dismissal, the magic he wielded was his one crutch, and saving grace. He has come to highly-value his powers, for they gave him first belief in his worth.
Any Other Info: Nodah is in reality deeply insecure, and is subject to nightmares and anxiety often. Not that he would let anyone know, however. Also, with his volatile emotions, his eye colour is subject to changes according to his mood. It is a quirk he is unable to properly explain. |
46,687 | 1,264 | 26 | 411 | 87 | Ｋｕｒｏｄａ Ｄａｉｃｈｉ
Drifting off into a light sleep, the nocturne's breathing had settled to a rhythmic pattern. However, he was soon torn from his doze when the high pitch voice of Zensei invaded his serenity. Kuroda let out a slight groan in response to the pixie's initial statement, but his interest was piqued following the mention of a surprise. This guy had a weakness for surprises.
"-'a little somethin'?" Daichi feinted neutrality, remaining dormant on his bed with his arms propped beneath his head. Under his hat, the cat's ears perked in excitement and he peeked over at his tiny roommate, eyebrows raised in curiosity. "Go on." He mumbled under his breath in a droll tone, stretching his arms up above him. He grasped at the space above him as if he was trying to touch the glistering light that shone through the broad skylight. One of the moons came into view behind the dark foliage of the leaves that rustled in the wind, creating a luminous pattern across the whole room. The streaks of luster were affecting the power levels of the nocturne, causing him to replenish whatever energy he may have expended throughout the day. Kuroda felt strength returning to him immediately, and he no longer felt the need to sleep at that moment.
In one smooth movement, Kuroda hoisted himself up using the momentum from swinging his arms. He hunched forward on the bed, folding one leg neatly while the other hung off the side of his mattress. Sitting up straight, Daichi now had the opportunity to spark conversation with his company. He began to unlatch the many buckles adorned on his tattered, black combat boots, flinging them carelessly onto the ground beside his lodging; he tossed his leather gloves and beanie onto his designated dresser in a similar fashion. As he did so, he exchanged a nod of approval with the well-mannered human who had introduced himself as Nodah. I don't think I've met a guy this polite in ages. I could learn a thing or two from him.
The nocturne chuckled to himself before ruffling his messy hair, relieved to have his ears out for the first time in a couple of days. They wriggled with excitement, easily conveying his inward emotions on the outside. He let out a content sigh, plopping down on his back once again, this time in a more comfortable manner- shoes, hat, and gloves off. With that, he tilted his head to the side to face Zensei once more, training his golden eyes on the pixie while he waited in anticipation for the mysterious 'something' he was promised. | Name: Ｋｕｒｏｄａ Ｄａｉｃｈｉ
Class: Ｅｓｓｅｎｔｉａ
Race: Ｎｏｃｔｕｒｎｅ
Appearance:
›Very тαll αɴd ѕleɴder αɴd ѕтαтυre, Dαιcнι мeαѕυreѕ αт αroυɴd 6'3" αɴd υѕυαlly weαrѕ α вlαcĸ вeαɴιe тo cover нιѕ proтrυdιɴɢ ғelιɴe eαrѕ.‹
Power Ranking: Ａ
Electives: Mαgιcαℓ Hιѕтσяу & Ƥσтιση Mαкιηg ✔
Character's Characteristics: Uɴlιĸe нιѕ ιɴтιмιdαтιɴɢ αppeαrαɴce, Dαιcнι ιѕ α very plαyғυl αɴd αpproαcнαвle perѕoɴ wнo loveѕ тo crαcĸ joĸeѕ. Doɴ'т ɢeт oɴ нιѕ вαd ѕιde тнoυɢн; нe вιтeѕ.
Main Powers based on Class: Mαηιƒєѕтαтιση σƒ ǀcє αη∂ Mιѕт- ѕσмєтιмєѕ νєησмσυѕ
Backstory: Born and raised in the well-renowned region of Matara, Daichi was constantly prowling the many heavily crowded swamps in search of something new- something interesting. With that mindset, the adventurous Nocturne decided to embark on a trip away from his large family to The Barren Lands, where he hoped to bring some change to his monotonous life. Of course, such a journey would not be easy; The Barren Lands are not divisions that can be taken lightly. Daichi prefers not to speak much about his experiences in the hazardous areas, but he is certain that this experience helped him to discover the true capacity of his powers, thus leading him to enroll in Rosewood; the school for the gifted.
Other Info: His family consists of 4 sisters and 3 brothers, meaning he comes from a family of 10. He may not look it, but he is also a very family oriented guy who treasures those he cares for and holds dear. The necklace adorned around his neck is always there- it was a gift especially from his deceased grandfather who entrusted it to him as a token of protection. |
46,688 | 1,264 | 27 | 231 | 133 | Zensei Zaza
Zensei acknowledged Kuroda's interest in his bribe for forgiveness and continued to stare through the skylight. Secretly, he himself didn't even know what he was offering.
A musky smell floated out from the nocturne that had just removed his boots, beanie, and gloves. The pixie, now allured, rolled over to face him. Zensei stared into his yellow eyes as the moonlight flickered over them, it seemed as if his eyes were the face of the sun. They burned into the little pixie's soul, engraving their images into his brain. The way they sparkled as the stars did outside and glowed like luscious honey, they set a flame to his itty-bitty heart, how they widened in excitement and pushed out what little heat they had left. Zensei knew exactly what he would give Kuroda.
Zensei opened his mouth but left his lips relaxed, making them look fuller, and seductively proposed to Kuroda. "You can be my slave." His words sounded like an icy breeze, it sounded like a dark sky as it's rain pounds the ground, yet still soft. He slowly began to close his eyes as the sound of whipping and electricity began to sound from downstairs. He didn't need to be under his blanket to sleep, Kuroda's fiery eyes gave off a satisfying warmth that became his blanket. | Name: Zensei Zaza
Class: Gravitin
Race: Pixie
Appearance (Picture or Description or Both): (Ignore the flower xD)
Power Ranking (Look at "School Info" in the Doc): B
Pick 2 Classes of your Choice (Combat Training, Survival, and Spell Casting are required for all students.):
1. Potion Making
2. Art
Character's Characteristics: Very flirtatious, likes to spy on people in the shower, very hyper when eats sugar. Also attempts to be a bad bitch like Nicki Minaj or Azealia Banks
Main Power(s) based on Class: Making things rise then slamming them on the ground, opening locks from the outside.
Backstory (If Any): Zensei had a very creepy childhood. His mom was a black widow and his dad was a magical butterfly. Every day he had to eat bugs his mom caught for him. But one day his mom ate his dad, he cried for days on days. Afraid of what his mom would do next, he fled, almost getting jumped by her. Through all the fog he saw the gates to what looked like a college for magical creatures, and at that moment decided to attend. Also a lot of hot people will probably attend so that's another reason.
Any Other Info, if any: Has green sparkles/green glow. Favorite color is green. Loves to paint with sparkles. |
46,689 | 1,264 | 28 | 1,368 | 222 | Leval Lamrue
A shiver passed through Leval's body, looking up he saw the Demon girl giving him a suspicious look, her eyes weighing him in slight confusion. 'I overdid it...damn!' He looked over his illusion and his fears were confirmed. Apparently, magic was seen differently depending on the person. For him, his magic was a thousand small threads stitched together to form a pattern or Weave. The Weave of his illusion was rough and rushed, loose strands of magic waved all around it, revealing a magical aura over anyone who gave him even a minor looking over. Internally, Leval groaned and reached again for his magic, focusing this time and spending time on the act of creation, he restitched his illusion together making the Weave almost impossible to notice. Such was the luxury of time.
He opened his eyes and glanced around. The succubi girl had wandered in at some point while he was deep in concentration and was resting on her bed, Leval could not tell if she was awake or sleeping. His eyes lingered a second too long appreciating the sight. He wrenched his eyes away and began to rub his temples allowing his mind to apply to his current situation. 'No distractions, think of knowledge.' His mind trotted back to the portal, marveling at its function and delighting with attempting to figure out its secrets. Soon, he too would learn its secrets. Of the lavish decoration, he wasn't quite sure how to react to them. His parents could never have afforded it.
He frowned then and pulled out his Connector. The device was simple enough for these times and it was a fairly inexpensive model, but it suited his needs. He could connect to the Realm Explorer and pull up any information he needed there, except for the secrets that could only be gained at Rosewood. He looked at the time display- only five minutes until midnight. He sat upright quickly. There were five beds in this room and only three were occupied. His on search for the door had taken quite sometime as the rooms were oddly difficult to locate. If there was another late arrival...
Leval sprinted over to the door, ignoring any protests of the noise from his roommates, opening it wide. "4-C! Over here 4-C! Quickly only four minutes left! You have to get off the carpet! | Name: Leval Lamrue
Class: Illusionist
Race: Human
Appearance (Picture or Description or Both): In reality, Leval is 5’3” at 132 pounds. He keeps his brown hair cropped short to his head except for a small tuft in the front of his hair, which he takes a lot of pride in. His face is lightly freckled on his tan skin and his eyes are hazel. He has a slight overbite and a rather large nose. However, when Leval has his illusion up he most often appears as a rather idealized, intimidating version of himself.
Power Ranking: C
Electives:
-Magical History
-Potion Making
Character's Characteristics: Leval is a born liar and rather cowardly at times, though he pretends otherwise. However, when the cards are on the table Leval will stand up for those who treat him with respect. He is more curious about the world around him and loves learning about magic and history.
Main Power(s) based on Class: Appearance Illusions. Leval’s illusion magic is based in changing his appearance and the way other people perceive him. This power can change from appearing as someone else to illusory shapeshifting where it appears as though he is giant in form or wielding any type of weapon he can imagine. However, he has not mastered controlling the sense of touch so these illusions are easily seen through if someone tries to physically touch one. Knowing that Leval tries to make himself look as intimidating as possible to scare off his opponents.
Backstory (If Any): Leval was born in a small village where he was frequently targeted for his small size. When his magic manifested, his parents took him to a larger village where he could learn to control his power. They were always supportive and Leval takes care to write them as often as he can. Leval devoured all the books he could about magic and history and went off to Rosewood to satisfy his rampant curiousity
Any Other Info, if any: Leval has a pair of gloves with a small lightning opal attached to the top that produce light in a beam in front of him acting as a powerful flashlight. They were a gift from his parents. |
46,690 | 1,264 | 29 | 1,543 | 198 | Zephyr
Zephyr looked at the human with amusement. "Do you always speak like you're talking to the King?" He asked, finding his formal introduction strange. It appeared that his talking to the Succubus in the overly polite way he did wasn't out of character for him in the least.
"You can be my slave."
His head whipped around to where Zensei and Daichi sat, surprised by the offer he heard from the pixie's lips. The pixie seemed almost serious now, a surprising change in attitude. "Is that really an offer you're making?" He demanded, but then was caught off guard by Daichi's appearance. It wasn't his ears that stood out, but rather his whole being. Moonlight fell on him, and he seemed to be drinking it in, looking more alive in the process. He wasn't Zephyr's type, but even he could see how alluring Daichi had become. It was clearly having an effect on Zensei, who gazed up at Daichi with an almost disturbing adoration. | Name: Lance Delmero
Class: Essentia
Race: Elf
Appearance:
Power Ranking: A
Electives: Art, Potion making
Character's Characteristics: Lance is an adventurous guy. Charismatic, good at making conversation, and easy going. He cracks jokes, likes to laugh, and makes everything seem effortless. He's also wildly competitive, and very possessive. Overall, he's pretty good natured. His anger isn't the furious kind, but the quiet, cold kind and he can hold grudges. Most of the time, though, he's fun to be around.
Main Powers: Particularly good with frost, ice, snow and water in general.
Backstory: Elves are a generally aloof race. Lance, who loves to explore everywhere
and meet everyone in the funniest way possible doesn't really fit into the mould, and was sent to Rosewood by his parents in an attempt to steer him towards something useful after he returned from a particularly disastrous adventure involving two incubi and a lot of snow.
Other: Lance likes animals a lot. Especially cats. |
46,691 | 1,264 | 30 | 2,788 | 1,595 | Mischa strode down the path, his tail swaying behind him and his ears pivoting around toward sudden noises, the sky was beginning to darken and he was beginning to wonder if he was even still on the right trail. 'it's to late to turn back' he thought as he looked up at the sky and adjusted the rifle slung on his back "it's can't be much farther now" he assured himself, and sure enough he saw what looked like a building just up ahead.
He stepped into the area in front of the gates, but something made him freeze, he stood still slowly bringing a hand up to his rifle and a moment later both of he ears faced back and he jumped into a front flip as an energy projectile flew from behind him through were he just was. Before he even landed he had drawn his weapon and fired a round at his attacker half way through the flip. He landed with a soft thud and spun around bringing his rifle up again only to see nothing, he glanced around looking for whatever it was that attacked him but when he found nothing he put his rifle away before a voice around him "Ah, Congratulation, You have successfully completed the final step for your acceptance into Rosewood. Performance rank: Ａ."
"final step?" Mischa wondered as he turned to find that the gates were open. He shrugged and walked through them and came face to face with an elven clerk who, judging by the name tag, was named "Yayo Fiji" the elf spoke when Mischa approached "Welcome to Rosewood! May I ask for your name, race, class, rank, and electives chosen?" Mischa was slightly confused and responded with "I-I'm Mischa, I'm a...Nocturne, Essentia, I was given the rank of A, and...what do you mean by electives?" "electives, the classes you pick to go along with the required courses" "Required-...THIS IS A SCHOOL?!" Mischa's eyes went wide at the realization "uh yes, here's a list if you haven't decided" Yayo slide a paper listing the elective classes across the desk. Mischa looked it over 'it's just as well' he thought 'regardless, school or not i've nowhere else to go' He looked back up from the list and said "Magical History and Art" "of course" the elf said "and here's your student identification necklace" the elf handed Mischa his necklace, a small rectangular metal token with a symbol on the front, on the back he read 4-C. After being directed to the way up he nodded to the clerk and headed off.
Mischa stepped into the portal and waited for it to take him up to the 4th floor. It took him a minute to realize when it did and he stepped off the portal onto some carpet, he was looking around having trouble finding out which door lead to his room, or dorm as was the case, and likely wouldn't have found it were it not for another student that threw open a door and shouted "4-C! Over here 4-C! Quickly only four minutes left! You have to get off the carpet!" He didn't know what the carpet had to do with it but quickly scurried into the room anyway, once inside he sighed, dropped his rifle onto the floor, and flopped onto one of the beds stretching like a cat with an accompanying "mreeeeeeeeeeeeeehh" he didn't even notice that the bed had "Leval Lamrue" carved on the headboard. | Mischa Ezkalion
Death's grasp could not contain him
yet life's hands could not catch him |
46,692 | 1,264 | 31 | 411 | 87 | Ｋｕｒｏｄａ Ｄａｉｃｈｉ
Daichi stared in awe at Zensei, whose facial expression had become far more distinct than before. Processing the situation, the feline parted his lips as if in mid-sentence, baring the fairly pointed fangs that remain undetected under normal circumstances. He narrowed his amber eyes that were fixated on the growing aura of the pixie, and his eyebrows furrowed in unison. A few moments of silence passed as Kuroda racked his brain for any rational explanation for the nonsensical proposal and behavior of his roommate.
Suddenly, there was an outburst of laughter that erupted from Kuroda, echoing throughout the large room. “-pfft! You’re kidding, right?” The nocturne failed to hold back the snickering that rose from his stomach, causing him to clutch his abdomen in an attempt to calm himself down. “Man, you’re real funny Zensei. Nearly pissed my pants just now!” Daichi was still cackling goofily to himself, turning completely on his side to face the green creature. However, the closer he examined Zensei, the more he realized his assumption might have been a little off. “Wait… were you serious?” The energetic Kuroda shot up in his spot once again, propping himself up with one elbow for support. His face transitioned from his toothy grin to one of more earnestness.
Rather than waiting patiently for his answer, Daichi leaned back into the excess of pillows with his eyes closed. He frowned to himself and crossed his arms over his chest, seemingly at a loss of words.
"Is that really an offer you're making?"
The nocturne's ears wriggled a bit as Zephyr interjected, but instead he remained stationary on his bed. The way he's acting now, it's hard to believe he was just cracking a joke... What kinda 'surprise' is this? Kuroda opened his mouth to respond to the unusual invitation. "-sorry Zensei, but I'm gonna have to decline." He continued speaking without opening his eyes, but a hint of amusement came to his face in an instant. "But if you want, you could be my personal servant." Of course, he said this in a very joking manner. | Name: Ｋｕｒｏｄａ Ｄａｉｃｈｉ
Class: Ｅｓｓｅｎｔｉａ
Race: Ｎｏｃｔｕｒｎｅ
Appearance:
›Very тαll αɴd ѕleɴder αɴd ѕтαтυre, Dαιcнι мeαѕυreѕ αт αroυɴd 6'3" αɴd υѕυαlly weαrѕ α вlαcĸ вeαɴιe тo cover нιѕ proтrυdιɴɢ ғelιɴe eαrѕ.‹
Power Ranking: Ａ
Electives: Mαgιcαℓ Hιѕтσяу & Ƥσтιση Mαкιηg ✔
Character's Characteristics: Uɴlιĸe нιѕ ιɴтιмιdαтιɴɢ αppeαrαɴce, Dαιcнι ιѕ α very plαyғυl αɴd αpproαcнαвle perѕoɴ wнo loveѕ тo crαcĸ joĸeѕ. Doɴ'т ɢeт oɴ нιѕ вαd ѕιde тнoυɢн; нe вιтeѕ.
Main Powers based on Class: Mαηιƒєѕтαтιση σƒ ǀcє αη∂ Mιѕт- ѕσмєтιмєѕ νєησмσυѕ
Backstory: Born and raised in the well-renowned region of Matara, Daichi was constantly prowling the many heavily crowded swamps in search of something new- something interesting. With that mindset, the adventurous Nocturne decided to embark on a trip away from his large family to The Barren Lands, where he hoped to bring some change to his monotonous life. Of course, such a journey would not be easy; The Barren Lands are not divisions that can be taken lightly. Daichi prefers not to speak much about his experiences in the hazardous areas, but he is certain that this experience helped him to discover the true capacity of his powers, thus leading him to enroll in Rosewood; the school for the gifted.
Other Info: His family consists of 4 sisters and 3 brothers, meaning he comes from a family of 10. He may not look it, but he is also a very family oriented guy who treasures those he cares for and holds dear. The necklace adorned around his neck is always there- it was a gift especially from his deceased grandfather who entrusted it to him as a token of protection. |
46,693 | 1,264 | 32 | 231 | 133 | Nuna Mori
Attempting to lighten her mood with some laughter and jovial actions; this farce was terminated immediately. Nuna's alleviation was interrupted by extreme assumptions. Her face displayed her almost in mid-shock. “I’m Leval, we seem to be roommates. I do not like to be touched, if you respect that we will get along fine.” Followed by, “Touch me and you die.” Thinking to herself, "Why would I want to touch any of your dirty, impure, tainted, impaled, wretched, and unprepossessing bodies. Nice way to set your first impression people. I could find others better than you." Restraining herself from commencing any havoc, she began inhaling deeply through her mouth, air inflating her stomach, exhaling slowly expelling her breath and stresses. Mori expressed her emotions easily, as well as it was ardent, so these actions were necessary before entering the dorm.
The dorm's interior bedazzled her starting from the lighting to the speck of dust on the ground. She immediately surveyed the room and saw her two 'colleagues' had claimed their bed. Walking slowly into the room, with all the elegance and poise she could muster, she stated, "Sorry if I portrayed the vibe of a molester. Please don't think of such." No one responded or even gave a glance at her. Keeping herself in check, she processed across the room to an unoccupied bedding. Plopping down upon the bed, she instantly felt comforted with the sense that she was laying on a cloud. Noting that her name was being etched onto the headboard, she almost felt closer to home, excluding the two extraneous creatures. "There isn't any being here that has respect, except for Nodah Listig. The way he treated me like royalty even after my vulgarity is spectacular. The warmth of his skin was quite enjoyable too..." Mori rolled onto her back ventilating calmly and placed her hand upon her chest. She grasped the necklace in her hand examining the extravagant shaped ghost orchid pendant with its yellow flower. Yellow... It brought the thought of the Nocturne. The moonlight from above slipped into her sight and she was reminded of the demon male. The pale, white color of the moon set the vision of the demon into her mind. "When am I going to be able to meet these individuals." Stating this in an optimistic state, she was thrown back into reality when she thought something was moving in the corner of her eye. Nuna turned her head in the direction of the human. She was confused as she noticed and sensed more prominence coming from Leval. She took into account that the human had spikes protruding from his body and assumed he was an illusionist. "No mere human would be able to sustain such injuries..." Her focus taken off his aesthetics, noticed the use of a device barely visible to her from this angle.
Momentarily after the long inspection and deduction assessed by Nuna, Leval erupted in a frenzy for the door. "What the hell are you doing?! Don't you know what will happen to you if you get caught by the carpet?" Leval ignored any warnings Nuna gave him and she glanced over to Desdemona, who seemingly had no concern. She left the thought of Leval to be, after all he was accepted into the school for some reason. To assume the same composure as Desdemona, she rested back upon the bed and noticed how tired she was. Stretching and yawning, simultaneously, she began reminiscing on the events of the day. "Whoa, it's been a long day. I barely recognized the fatigue." | Name: Zensei Zaza
Class: Gravitin
Race: Pixie
Appearance (Picture or Description or Both): (Ignore the flower xD)
Power Ranking (Look at "School Info" in the Doc): B
Pick 2 Classes of your Choice (Combat Training, Survival, and Spell Casting are required for all students.):
1. Potion Making
2. Art
Character's Characteristics: Very flirtatious, likes to spy on people in the shower, very hyper when eats sugar. Also attempts to be a bad bitch like Nicki Minaj or Azealia Banks
Main Power(s) based on Class: Making things rise then slamming them on the ground, opening locks from the outside.
Backstory (If Any): Zensei had a very creepy childhood. His mom was a black widow and his dad was a magical butterfly. Every day he had to eat bugs his mom caught for him. But one day his mom ate his dad, he cried for days on days. Afraid of what his mom would do next, he fled, almost getting jumped by her. Through all the fog he saw the gates to what looked like a college for magical creatures, and at that moment decided to attend. Also a lot of hot people will probably attend so that's another reason.
Any Other Info, if any: Has green sparkles/green glow. Favorite color is green. Loves to paint with sparkles. |
46,694 | 1,264 | 33 | 1,368 | 222 | Leval Lamrue
Leval looked from his bed to the gun wielding nocturne that had just moved past him. He then looked at the intimidating rifle that he dropped on the floor. He turned and moved over to one of the two unoccupied beds and sat down. He attempted to roll his injured shoulder and winced as the pain lanced down his arm.
He pulled out his Connector and reviewed the audio recording of his first day at Rosewood. However, when he got to the Succubi's voice he groaned. He stood up and walked over to her, stopping a respectful distance away." Um hi there, listen I'm sorry if I offended you. That whole 'not like being touched thing' wasn't aimed at you. It's just a personal issue that I wanted to let everyone know right at the start to avoid any issue. But I can see how you could take that personally so I just wanted to apologize. I would've responded earlier, but sometimes I get lost in my head and forget to pay attention to my surroundings. Leval raised his hand to the back of his head, his illusion doing the same looking guilty. "So yeah just wanted to say I'm sorry. I meant you no harm and insult, but I should've chosen my words better. I'm Leval by the way." He waited politely for any reaponse and then let sleep take him. | Name: Leval Lamrue
Class: Illusionist
Race: Human
Appearance (Picture or Description or Both): In reality, Leval is 5’3” at 132 pounds. He keeps his brown hair cropped short to his head except for a small tuft in the front of his hair, which he takes a lot of pride in. His face is lightly freckled on his tan skin and his eyes are hazel. He has a slight overbite and a rather large nose. However, when Leval has his illusion up he most often appears as a rather idealized, intimidating version of himself.
Power Ranking: C
Electives:
-Magical History
-Potion Making
Character's Characteristics: Leval is a born liar and rather cowardly at times, though he pretends otherwise. However, when the cards are on the table Leval will stand up for those who treat him with respect. He is more curious about the world around him and loves learning about magic and history.
Main Power(s) based on Class: Appearance Illusions. Leval’s illusion magic is based in changing his appearance and the way other people perceive him. This power can change from appearing as someone else to illusory shapeshifting where it appears as though he is giant in form or wielding any type of weapon he can imagine. However, he has not mastered controlling the sense of touch so these illusions are easily seen through if someone tries to physically touch one. Knowing that Leval tries to make himself look as intimidating as possible to scare off his opponents.
Backstory (If Any): Leval was born in a small village where he was frequently targeted for his small size. When his magic manifested, his parents took him to a larger village where he could learn to control his power. They were always supportive and Leval takes care to write them as often as he can. Leval devoured all the books he could about magic and history and went off to Rosewood to satisfy his rampant curiousity
Any Other Info, if any: Leval has a pair of gloves with a small lightning opal attached to the top that produce light in a beam in front of him acting as a powerful flashlight. They were a gift from his parents. |
46,695 | 1,264 | 34 | 1,576 | 358 | Nodah Listig
"Do you always speak like you're talking to the King?" he heard Zephyr say. Nodah's eyes flickered to him, and he allowed his lips to unfurl into a slanted smirk, and for a sonorous chuckle to rumble from his chest. "Hm, mayhaps. No one has complained before, though. Doesn't everyone simply adore being handled as nobility would?" He caught Kuroda's bob of the head, and returned it with a tilt of an imaginary hat, though he wasn't quite sure where the approval stemmed from. Perhaps it is my manner of speaking. Strange how taken the students at Rosewood seem to be by it.
Nodah listened to the exchange between Zensei and Kuroda, while he tucked his bag into a corner, pledging to put away his spare collection of possessions another day. Rather melodramatic of the pixie, he thought, lips twitching despite his best efforts to restrain them, as he swung his legs onto the bed and crossed them at the ankles. He folded his arms behind his head, staring at Zensei's wings, Kuroda's feline ears, Zephyr's reptilian arm and horned forehead. By comparison, Nodah was positively average, humanoid and predictable. He raked his eyes over Reas' rollerblades two beds across. "Quite the fire hazard, no?" he said lightly - a jape with the best of intentions - leaning back and giving into the soft yield of the mattress beneath him. | Name: Nodah Listig
Class: Gravitin
Race: Human
Appearance: Lanky and tall. Light hazel hair is always tousled and messy. 175 centimeters tall, and 54 kilogrammes heavy. Light on his feet, with dexterous fingers. Looks delicate, but is more than capable of holding his own. Default eye colour is blue. (Any Other Info)
Power Ranking: A
Elective Classes: Magical History; Potion Making
Character's Characteristics: Nodah is a diplomat at heart. His policy is one of caution: never burn bridges before you have walked them. He follows whatever means necessary to attain what he desires. To him, life is to be played as a game. His humour is sly, and his deeds always coldly-calculated. Nodah is wont to keep his distance, while exuding undisputed and amiable confidence. He grins easily. He is skilled and well-versed with his powers, but would rather appear as one of the best rather than the best.
Main Power(s): Manipulating the movement of objects, and summoning them. He enjoys making merchandise fly off shelves in shops, out of mischief, boredom, or a partnership of both.
Backstory: He came from parents who were so enthralled in the throes of their dissolving marriage, that their son ceased to hold significant importance in their eyes. Nodah despised being invisible to them as they erupted and then tiptoed, brawled and then retreated, drunk and strung high on the destructive nature of their clashes. While they were occupied with their perpetual tango, he focused on discovering his powers. For a boy who’d known only camouflage and dismissal, the magic he wielded was his one crutch, and saving grace. He has come to highly-value his powers, for they gave him first belief in his worth.
Any Other Info: Nodah is in reality deeply insecure, and is subject to nightmares and anxiety often. Not that he would let anyone know, however. Also, with his volatile emotions, his eye colour is subject to changes according to his mood. It is a quirk he is unable to properly explain. |
46,696 | 1,264 | 35 | 1,706 | 30 | Dᴇsᴅᴇᴍᴏɴᴀ Cᴏʀᴄᴇʟʟᴀ
Warmth radiated from the beam of sunlight that hit Desdemona’s face. She slowly opened her eyes, looking at the clock on her nightstand. It’s 6:00am. Completely sitting up, Desdemona notices she’s the only one currently awake, “Good. Now I can be the first one to shower.”
The bathroom was located near the stairs that led to the first floor of the dorm. She quietly paced making sure not to wake up any of her roommates. The bathroom had a sleek design, white and dark brown walls, a glass shower and bathtub. The sink also had a glass finish. Desdemona took comfort in the layout of the room and made her way towards the sink, locking the door behind her.
As she approached the sink, a toothbrush already pasted appeared in her hand. The mirror above the sink displayed the weather for the day and current events happening in Mystia. “Fancy.” She began to touch the mirror to see what other functions it had. After she finished brushing her teeth, the toothbrush disappeared. Desdemona entered the shower, as she stood, water accompanied with enchanted mist caressed her body, “Well that’s different.” she says while watching the mist make contact with her skin, creating a temporary glow effect. A few minutes passed and she exited the shower, “I’m not sure what that mist did, but I feel great!”. Particles begin to circulate around her body, completely drying her. Different types of fabrics also materialized on Desdemona from the mystic particles.
Looking into the mirror Desdemona could see she was fully clothed. Outfitted with a tank top, jacket, form-fitting pants, and combat boots all in neutral colors. She was impressed that the attire matched her style. Her clothes from the previous day were deposited into a hamper.
Leaving the bathroom, she was slightly sad that she couldn’t stay in there longer. Walking back to her nightstand, Desdemona opens the drawer taking out a small knife and sliding it smoothly in her right boot. A familiar voice begins to echo around the room, “Good morning students of Rosewood, this is Yayo Fiji. I hope you had a great first day and will continue to enjoy your time here. After you have prepared for the day, please make your way to the dining hall located on the first floor. This will be a chance to become acquainted with your classmates, so remember be polite!” Yayo announces. Desdemona quickly walks forward, “Forget about making friends, I hope there’ll be good food. I’m starving…”
Treading down the hallway, she sees other students exiting their rooms. Approaching the portal, Desdemona remembered the struggle she faced previously. Confident that she would have better control this time, she steps into portal. The ride wasn’t as bad this time, but the lights and noise still affected her.
Arriving on the first floor, she picks up speed making sure to be the first in line to receive breakfast. Entering the dining hall, it was a big room with white walls and lights that illuminated an orange tint. Desdemona approaches a machine by a wall, there’s a row of about ten to fifteen of them. Unsure of what it does, Desdemona touches the screen in the center, “Welcome! Please swipe your identification necklace across the scanner.” the machine speaks. Desdemona moves her necklace past the scanner below the screen, “Thank you, Desdemona Corcella. A meal will be prepared for you based on your personal preferences.” appearing on the scanner was a plate with an omelet and toast on it, the omelet had different kinds of meat and cheeses inside. To the right of the plate was a cup of apple juice. “Enjoy your meal!” the machine turns off, “Oh don’t worry I definitely will.” Desdemona says appreciating the sight of the food.
She hurries to sit down at one of the levitating glass tables. Not wasting any time, Desdemona takes a bite of her food, the mixture of spices created a wonderful flavor, “Delicious!”. Hunger took over her, and she ate at an unreal speed, not paying attention to any of the students who entered the dining hall. | Name: Dᴇsᴅᴇᴍᴏɴᴀ Cᴏʀᴄᴇʟʟᴀ
Class: Nᴇᴄʀᴏᴍᴀɴᴄᴇʀ
Race: Dᴇᴍᴏɴ
Appearance:
5'4" tall/Curvy Build
Power Ranking: A
Electives:
-Magical History
-Potion Making
Character's Characteristics:
Ruthless and arrogant. She loves a good challenge and is definitely someone you shouldn't get on the bad side of. Has a soft spot for cats.
Main powers: Uses harvested magic of the dead as a way to amplify her own strength. Can resurrect dead creatures for various amounts of time depending on how strong the creature is.
Backstory: Desdemona Corcella has been through rigorous magical training her whole life. She has fought the dangerous creatures in the Barren Lands and Wilds, and has been accustomed to death from a young age. As the sole heir of a world-renowned family of demons, she has to maintain the tradition of dominating any competition with the use of powerful necromancy. Desdemona's family holds her to a very high standard, and doesn't accept any failures. Any level of disappointment will result in extreme punishments and because of this Desdemona has devoted most of her efforts into becoming the best at everything she does. Desdemona is currently at Rosewood and sees it as another test to prove her superiority to her family.
Other info: Dislikes Pixies, she sees them as being annoying bugs and wishes she could squash them all. |
46,697 | 1,264 | 36 | 1,543 | 198 | Zephyr
Zephyr raised an eyebrow at Nodah in approval. Even though he talked in a manner that was nearly a century old, he had a relaxed and chill demeanour, taking Zephyr's comment lightly. The demon decided there that Nodah could be added to the list of humans he considered friends. "I'm definitely not going to complain if you want to treat me like royalty," he grinned, leaning back. Looking over at the nocturne and pixie, Zephyr snickered at the Daichi's reaction to Zensei's sudden adoration for him, and burst into laughter at the pixie's equally hilarious response. "Yeah, good night Mr. Just-A-Friend," He smirked. He got ready for bed in half a minute, buried himself under the amazingly soft covers, and went to sleep.
Zephyr was the first to wake up in his room the next morning, as he never slept that well or deeply anyway. He had quite the escapades in the bathroom, alarmed by the mists in the shower, the lack of a towel, and the weird particles that instead did the drying for him. "There is such a thing as too much magic," He grumbled to himself as fabrics materialized on his figure. Looking down, he found himself in an all white ensemble of a plain tshirt, a hoodie that hid his reptilian arm, jeans and combat boots. He grinned at the boots, pleased. He'd never been able to find shoes like that in white, which everyone said was impractical. Somehow though, Zephyr never looked less than immaculate. He picked up his necklace from next to the sink and put it on, then hearing Yayo Fiji's voice, making an announcement about morning arrangements.
Ready, he walked back into the room. Everyone else was still fast asleep. He briefly considered waking them all up, but then decided against it, instead heading to the dining hall. He followed the lead of other students, going up to one of the machines to the side. He touched his necklace to the screen, and could have kept for joy as piles of bacon, omelettes, and sausages were heaped on a plate. A cup of coffee appeared as well, black and steaming, the way he liked it. He looked round for a place to sit, before catching sight of what he knew without a doubt was a demon, sitting at a floating table in the corner and ravenously eating. He approached the table and sat opposite her. He didn't say anything for a while, until, beside himself with curiosity, he asked, "What's your name?" | Name: Lance Delmero
Class: Essentia
Race: Elf
Appearance:
Power Ranking: A
Electives: Art, Potion making
Character's Characteristics: Lance is an adventurous guy. Charismatic, good at making conversation, and easy going. He cracks jokes, likes to laugh, and makes everything seem effortless. He's also wildly competitive, and very possessive. Overall, he's pretty good natured. His anger isn't the furious kind, but the quiet, cold kind and he can hold grudges. Most of the time, though, he's fun to be around.
Main Powers: Particularly good with frost, ice, snow and water in general.
Backstory: Elves are a generally aloof race. Lance, who loves to explore everywhere
and meet everyone in the funniest way possible doesn't really fit into the mould, and was sent to Rosewood by his parents in an attempt to steer him towards something useful after he returned from a particularly disastrous adventure involving two incubi and a lot of snow.
Other: Lance likes animals a lot. Especially cats. |
46,698 | 1,264 | 37 | 2,422 | 1,600 | Reas Grimorea
Reas watched as the other roommates entered one after another and began to take the beds in the loft-like room. From what he could see there was a Pixie, another Human, a demon, and a Nocturn all of which seemed fairly nice at first glance though the demon named Zephyr was a bit more intimidating since he was about 2ft taller than Reas as well as him having scales covering one arm adding to the rough visage. Reas sat cross-legged on his bed with his skates next to him in the process of removing the off-road style wheels from them and putting in the smoother track wheels that would help keep the wheels from getting caught in the carpet. As he did this he listened in on what was happening with the others but was caught off guard by the Pixie's audacity after apparently offering a reward to the nocturn who was practically glowing with energy most likely from it being night time. The ribbons of fire around Reas flickered in and out of existence as his eyes became heavy and he started to slow down until he heard a voice directed towards him, "Quite the fire hazard, no?" Nodah the other human said before he leaned back. "Huh, oh yeah i guess i should keep away from wooded areas shouldn't I?" Reas said before he sat leaned back into the almost cloud-soft bed holding his off-road wheels close to his chest listening to the low almost silent hum of the magic drive inside the wheels themselves. Sleep came easily to Reas as the day had drained him of most of his energy.
Next day
Reas awoke with a small yawn and looked at the clock, noticing it only said 6:30 AM Reas got up and put his skates on his bed before walking down the stairs of the dorm. When Reas reached the bottom of the stairs he went directly to the restroom and turned on the shower which felt amazing to him since the mist felt like it recharged him from head to toe. He got out of the shower after a few minutes and began brushing his teeth with a toothbrush that appeared in his hand then disappeared after he was done, "This place is basically the coincidence incarnate isn't it" Reas said to himself as he came out of the restroom with his new set of red cargo pants and a form-fitting black t-shirt that was flexible enough for him to move in every direction without it bunching up. When Reas reached the top of the stairs again he finally noticed that Zephyr was gone and a message from earlier in the morning was recorded on his clock, it was from Mr. Yayo stating for students to go to the cafeteria after they were done getting ready. He finished getting ready by slipping on his skates and powering them up, he launched off the top of the stairs and landed at the bottom floor silently opening the door and speeding down the hallway dodging the other students as he went.
When Reas reached the cafeteria he scanned his card at one of the machines on the wall and a breakfast consisting of a bowl filled with an assortment of chopped up sweet and sour fruits appeared along with a glass of lemonade on the side. He took the plate of food and looked for a place to sit in the room that was slowly filling with people. Reas sat at the table with Zephyr and another female demon but a few seat down from them, he didn't say anything as it looked like he was trying to start something with the girl who seemed really into her food. He took a fork and started digging into his fruit bowl sampling one fruit after another marveling at how juicy and fresh the pieces of fruit were. The flame around Reas' leg warped until it took the form of a diagram for a micro magic engine but it had modifications done to it. "If i do this then it should increase the power without burning my power out..." Reas trailed off in thought while taking a bite of a sour fruit piece. | Name:
Reas Grimorea
Class:
Illusionist
Race:
Human
Appearance:
5'6" tall / 127 lb not much muscle tone but looks solid. instaed of the red sweat shirt it is black
Power Ranking:
A
Pick 2 Classes of your Choice:
1. Art
2. Cooking
Character's Characteristics:
Very studious, Never without his Rollerblades, Likes sour foods but doesn't eat much, likes to practice regular boxing and a modified style of Kick-boxing which revolves around using his Rollerblades as a means of accelerating his legs to insane speeds. He has a bad habit of being stobborn when faced with a challenge, though is often nice to others who share interests with him.
Main Power(s) based on Class:
Adept at making enviromental illusions such as producing realistic fire and refracting light to blend in with his surroundings.
Backstory:
The son of a Skilled Mechanic and average magician who was badly injured when he refused to pay the local crooks "Chimera". Reas was given his Rollerblades a few weeks before he came to Rosewood where he is usually the quiet one in class.
Reas is always riding his rollerblades, so much in fact that most dont see him wearing any other shoes but there is a good reason for this as they help channel his powers. He was born with the medical condition "Muscle Hypertrophy" which caused his muscles to over develop as a kid and has increased his strength by 10 times which earned him the name cyclop's hammer from his strength.
Any Other Info:
Constantly has a ribbon of illusionary fire wrapped around his leg as a reminder of his quest to get revenge on the thugs that hurt his father. Will ride his Rollerblades in any enviroment as they are powered by his magic allowing him to push his speed to the limit and beyond as well as boost his general leg power (jumping, running, ETC), Reas was known to get into fights and had earned the nickname cyclop's hammer for his strong punches that were like being hit with his namesake weapon |
46,699 | 1,264 | 38 | 411 | 87 | Ｋｕｒｏｄａ Ｄａｉｃｈｉ
The nocturne furrowed his brows in response to the pixie's remark, but he bit his tongue to hold back any more snide comments; he wasn't up for causing a rift in a friendship that hasn't quite begun yet. Daichi cleared his throat and crossed his outstretched legs before him. Pausing between his own voice and the chuckle of the demon on his far right, he mumbled something quietly. "-yeah, g'night." Maintaining a rather lighthearted voice, the nocturne eventually curled himself up and found a comfortable position on the pliable sheets, finally drifting off into a deep sleep.
The following morning, the feline was dormant on his bed for quite some time- once this creature is asleep, he remains so for a rather long time. However, Kuroda's peaceful sleep was interrupted by the booming voice that caused the hairs on his back to stand on edge. His eyes shot open and he rolled off the bed, landing with a loud thud.
"Ah- shit!" Daichi swore hoarsely under his breath, suddenly finding himself in an awkward position; he'd managed to land face first on the ground with his back and arms bent in unspeakable ways. He struggled to hoist himself onto his feet, causing him to stagger forward once he was finally upright. Rubbing the back of his neck and rolling his shoulders, he grumpily looked at his obnoxious alarm clock that read 6:53 AM. While he made his way over to the bathroom, he let out a disheartened sigh. Am I gonna be up this early every day? He noticed that Zephyr and Reas had already departed, along with the fact that their beds were already empty and had been made flawlessly.
Closing the door behind him with his elbow, Daichi yawned loudly and proceeded with his morning routine. After much awe at the extravagant use of magic, he exited the bathroom clad in a black leather jacket and gloves, a red v-neck, sleek black pants decorated with numerous silver zippers along the sides, and a pair of black leather oxfords to match the new beanie on his head. The nocturne stretched out his arms and twisted around to rate his new outfit, and he scrunched up his face when he came across the new shiny shoes. These aren't really my type... He shrugged and adjusted his gloves while he jogged down the stairs and out into the hallway.
Without much haste, Kuroda yawned once more while boarding the portal to the first floor. Just as a precaution, he clung to a wall before the lift transported him to his destination (without much hassle, to his surprise.) Strolling past the sea of students, he brought himself face to face with one of the peculiar machines. He was a bit startled when it abruptly spoke, but he followed the basic instructions and grazed his card across the scanner. "Thank you, Kuroda Daichi. A meal will be prepared for you based on your personal preferences." Sweet.
After that brief announcement, Daichi was greeted by the delectable smell of steak and eggs, along with a glass of cold milk. His jaw dropped only slightly, and he had to wipe the corner of his mouth of any visible drool before he swiftly picked up his breakfast platter. Kuroda's eyes flitted around the massive dining hall, scanning the area for any familiar faces. That was when he spotted a table with all the right people- Reas, Zephyr, and that demon girl whose necklace he'd remembered for later use.
"Mind if I join you?" He casually walked up to the party of three, a slight grin on his face as he made eye contact with each of them. | Name: Ｋｕｒｏｄａ Ｄａｉｃｈｉ
Class: Ｅｓｓｅｎｔｉａ
Race: Ｎｏｃｔｕｒｎｅ
Appearance:
›Very тαll αɴd ѕleɴder αɴd ѕтαтυre, Dαιcнι мeαѕυreѕ αт αroυɴd 6'3" αɴd υѕυαlly weαrѕ α вlαcĸ вeαɴιe тo cover нιѕ proтrυdιɴɢ ғelιɴe eαrѕ.‹
Power Ranking: Ａ
Electives: Mαgιcαℓ Hιѕтσяу & Ƥσтιση Mαкιηg ✔
Character's Characteristics: Uɴlιĸe нιѕ ιɴтιмιdαтιɴɢ αppeαrαɴce, Dαιcнι ιѕ α very plαyғυl αɴd αpproαcнαвle perѕoɴ wнo loveѕ тo crαcĸ joĸeѕ. Doɴ'т ɢeт oɴ нιѕ вαd ѕιde тнoυɢн; нe вιтeѕ.
Main Powers based on Class: Mαηιƒєѕтαтιση σƒ ǀcє αη∂ Mιѕт- ѕσмєтιмєѕ νєησмσυѕ
Backstory: Born and raised in the well-renowned region of Matara, Daichi was constantly prowling the many heavily crowded swamps in search of something new- something interesting. With that mindset, the adventurous Nocturne decided to embark on a trip away from his large family to The Barren Lands, where he hoped to bring some change to his monotonous life. Of course, such a journey would not be easy; The Barren Lands are not divisions that can be taken lightly. Daichi prefers not to speak much about his experiences in the hazardous areas, but he is certain that this experience helped him to discover the true capacity of his powers, thus leading him to enroll in Rosewood; the school for the gifted.
Other Info: His family consists of 4 sisters and 3 brothers, meaning he comes from a family of 10. He may not look it, but he is also a very family oriented guy who treasures those he cares for and holds dear. The necklace adorned around his neck is always there- it was a gift especially from his deceased grandfather who entrusted it to him as a token of protection. |
46,700 | 1,264 | 39 | 231 | 133 | Zensei Zaza
Awaking from the sound of a loud crash downstairs, Zensei jerked his body up. Judging by the light that reflected off his bed, he assumed it was about seven o'clock in the morning. He quickly hovered up and over everyone's bed and into the bathroom. Looking at the luxurious mirror he saw a message left by Yayo Fiji. “Good morning students of Rosewood, this is Yayo Fiji. I hope you had a great first day and will continue to enjoy your time here. After you have prepared for the day, please make your way to the dining hall located on the first floor. This will be a chance to become acquainted with your classmates, so remember be polite!” A miniature toothbrush then formed on the counter in front of Zensei. Beginning to brush his teeth, he flew into the shower. The water pounded Zensei to the floor, making his voice squeak out on the impact. The mist slowly descended to him, filling his tiny lungs. Struggling to breathe, he screamed through the water that filled his mouth.
After the torture was over, he crawled out of the glass shower door. Shiny particles began to invade his glowing aura and dry his soaked body as he collapsed onto his face. The particle's colors faded from white to a light green color and compressed together, getting closer to his body, and forming into a green-shaded tuxedo. Recovering from the insane events, he crawled out of the bathroom and to the top of the stairs. "It's time." He whispered to himself before doing a somersault that caused him to tumble down the rest of the steps. Scrunching up his face, he managed to stand on his feet, but with his wings still paralyzed. He sprinted out of the dorm room, across the spooky starry carpet, and into the portal.
The portal warped him into the hallway that lead to the entrance to the cafeteria, which could only be accessed by the portal. Upon walking in, he saw numerous floating tables with a blue glow under each one, while the walls and everything else were illuminated orange. Spotting two of his roommates sitting with a demon girl, he marked the table as his own. He ran to one of the machines that gave food to students before realizing he was way too short to reach. As creatures began to form a line behind the pixie and get flustered, he remembered that he could control gravity. "Stand back uglies!" Following his rude command, he rose up, swiped his wing shaped student identification necklace through the scanner, and became aroused with excitement as fried chicken and grape soda pop appeared in front of him. "Boo yah!" He yelled while taking the food to the table with his now-working wings.
He slammed down his plate of fried chicken and chalice of grape soda pop in front of the roller blade human, a couple seats down from Zephyr who was sitting in front of the demon girl. "Hey I'm Zensei and who are you? You kinda scare me." He said this with a neutral voice as he climbed from his seat onto the table, getting on all fours. "Zephyr and that hot demon girl would make a cute couple right?" Zensei asked loud enough for the two demons to hear, then dug his face into the chicken as a dog would. Following his weird way of eating, he spun around and repeatedly stuck his tongue in and out of the soda as a dog would also do. | Name: Zensei Zaza
Class: Gravitin
Race: Pixie
Appearance (Picture or Description or Both): (Ignore the flower xD)
Power Ranking (Look at "School Info" in the Doc): B
Pick 2 Classes of your Choice (Combat Training, Survival, and Spell Casting are required for all students.):
1. Potion Making
2. Art
Character's Characteristics: Very flirtatious, likes to spy on people in the shower, very hyper when eats sugar. Also attempts to be a bad bitch like Nicki Minaj or Azealia Banks
Main Power(s) based on Class: Making things rise then slamming them on the ground, opening locks from the outside.
Backstory (If Any): Zensei had a very creepy childhood. His mom was a black widow and his dad was a magical butterfly. Every day he had to eat bugs his mom caught for him. But one day his mom ate his dad, he cried for days on days. Afraid of what his mom would do next, he fled, almost getting jumped by her. Through all the fog he saw the gates to what looked like a college for magical creatures, and at that moment decided to attend. Also a lot of hot people will probably attend so that's another reason.
Any Other Info, if any: Has green sparkles/green glow. Favorite color is green. Loves to paint with sparkles. |
46,701 | 1,264 | 40 | 1,576 | 358 | Nodah Listig
Nodah's eyelids fluttered open. Sleep must have clutched him unawares by the shoulders. With a slight grunt, he pushed himself up, looking around the deserted dorm. In solitude, he threw on a grey cotton shirt, slightly creased and rumpled from being stuffed unceremoniously into a backpack and handled roughly. Nodah stifled a yawn, and stretched, ruffling his already bed-worn hair. He read Yayo Fiji's message, and set off for the dining hall, hoping he was not yet tardy.
It was a bustle of noise and movement in the hall, and Nodah occupied himself by absent-mindedly fingering the delicate pendant of his necklace, tugging it out from the confines of his shirt. He walked up to the machine and swiped it, before a steaming platter of food appeared before him. "Most convenient," he murmured, picking up the tray in his hands and taking in the waft of the sandwich, toasted to a crisp - if simplistic - perfection.
He approached a table, spotting familiar faces. "Top of the morning," he greeted, taking a seat beside the pixie, eyeing Zensei's eccentric dining mannerisms. He raised the frosted glass of grape juice to his lips and took a demure swallow, its cold breath slithering down his throat in a most enjoyable way. "I trust your sleep was restful?" he asked, deciding he might as well strike up conversation with his co-habitants. | Name: Nodah Listig
Class: Gravitin
Race: Human
Appearance: Lanky and tall. Light hazel hair is always tousled and messy. 175 centimeters tall, and 54 kilogrammes heavy. Light on his feet, with dexterous fingers. Looks delicate, but is more than capable of holding his own. Default eye colour is blue. (Any Other Info)
Power Ranking: A
Elective Classes: Magical History; Potion Making
Character's Characteristics: Nodah is a diplomat at heart. His policy is one of caution: never burn bridges before you have walked them. He follows whatever means necessary to attain what he desires. To him, life is to be played as a game. His humour is sly, and his deeds always coldly-calculated. Nodah is wont to keep his distance, while exuding undisputed and amiable confidence. He grins easily. He is skilled and well-versed with his powers, but would rather appear as one of the best rather than the best.
Main Power(s): Manipulating the movement of objects, and summoning them. He enjoys making merchandise fly off shelves in shops, out of mischief, boredom, or a partnership of both.
Backstory: He came from parents who were so enthralled in the throes of their dissolving marriage, that their son ceased to hold significant importance in their eyes. Nodah despised being invisible to them as they erupted and then tiptoed, brawled and then retreated, drunk and strung high on the destructive nature of their clashes. While they were occupied with their perpetual tango, he focused on discovering his powers. For a boy who’d known only camouflage and dismissal, the magic he wielded was his one crutch, and saving grace. He has come to highly-value his powers, for they gave him first belief in his worth.
Any Other Info: Nodah is in reality deeply insecure, and is subject to nightmares and anxiety often. Not that he would let anyone know, however. Also, with his volatile emotions, his eye colour is subject to changes according to his mood. It is a quirk he is unable to properly explain. |
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