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Gear Heart marched ahead of the group as they all began to walk to the picnic. Unlike Jack, the golem looked straight ahead towards their destination. Vigilance was pointless at the moment in Gear Heart's eyes. Nothing was setting off his 6th sense, so there was nothing to worry about...Until there was.
Tick tick tick tick tick tick tick tick. A fast ticking noise suddenly became audible from within Gear Heart's body as he stopped dead in his tracks. Tick tick tick tick tick tick tick tick. For those who had been around long enough to learn about the golem's 6th sense, they'd quickly realize that something had just triggered it and that they should expect some form of danger very soon. Tick tick tick tick tick tick tick tick DING! With a loud ding, the ticking ceased and Gear Heart moved again. The golem briskly walked back over to Veronica and walked at her side along with Jack and the baron, looking every which way in an attempt to locate the danger his 6th sense had picked up.
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Name: Gear Heart Mark 4
Appearance
Age: 10
Gender: None (But referred to in male terms.)
Race: Iron Golem
Skills: Amazing Strength: What can he lift? An easier question would be what can't he lift.
Incredible Durability: It'll take some serious effort to put him down.
Lacks Human Needs: Gear Heart needs no sleep, sustenance, or air.
Music Box: When the gears exposed by the heart shaped hole in the golem's chest start turning, a built in music box begins playing a beautiful song.
Rapid Plant Growth: Gear Heart has the ability to quickly grow various plant on his body. Though there seems to be no plant Gear Heart can't grow, he usually only grows poppies, vines, and dandelions.
6th Sense: Gear Heart always innately knows Veronica's current location and if she's in danger.
History: Ever since their 1st appearance, golems have been universally considered a modern marvel. But none have been more so acclaimed than the Gear Heart models. Created by an eccentric gnome inventor through top secret methods, the Gear Hearts are as sought after and beneficial to their owners as they are rare. And with each version, Gear Hearts become even more sought after, even more of an asset, and even harder to find.
So this begs the question. How did a minor noble like Baron Asmothe get his hands on such a golem? Honest payment? Dishonest villainy? Neither. The answer is much more simple and like the eccentric gnome who made the golems in the 1st place, rather strange. On the day of Veronica's 1st birthday, she was stolen from her crib by 1 of the servants. The servant would have escaped unnoticed had it not been for a large box blocking the front door. After the servant was caught, the box was opened. Inside was a freshly made Gear Heart Mark 4. It was the 1st of its kind and the most advanced model at the time. Along with it came a note from the inventor wishing the baron luck with his cursed daughter. How the gnome knew of the curse or why he gave away a highly expensive golem free of charge is anyone's guess. But even so, Gear Heart has been around ever since and rarely leaves Veronica's side.
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An elf's ears were for more than just show. Lance could hear an audible ticking noise coming from the golem. Not good. Running to the Baron, Lance exclaimed:"Sir, the Golem's ticking again. Your daughter is likely in imminent danger. Do not let her out of your sight. Please stay here. I'm going to go scout ahead, the trees may be hiding something." Lance, while he didn't have his lance on him, as it was a danger to the girl, was not without a weapon. Lance wore some big boots, and in those boots was a hidden dagger. Just in case. He turned to Jack "I may need your help. Veronica's life may be in danger. Follow me."
Unsheathing his blade, a solid 5 inches of serrated steel was produced. Lance then ran to the picnic area. Everything seemed fine, but that was only the calm before the storm. Being a scout in the military did have its advantages. Walking into the treeline a large pair of footprints could be seen in the dampened soil. Forests were good at keeping the soil wet. Not to mention the grass was pressed down in some places. Following the trail for what felt like an eternity, albeit it was only a couple of minutes. Fout figures could be seen squatting by a tree, about 30 feet wway. Time to put those elven ears to use once more. "They're saying 'her', likely referring to Veronica...Something about... a scroll? ...And Monsters?! Lance brought his blade up. "Get ready for a fight, this isn't going to be pretty. Lance Spoke, not even checking to see if Jack was behind him.
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Full name: Lance D'Phiarlin
Usually wearing a tunic, Lance blends into the crowd, but when it's time for battle, Lance wears scalemail covered by a central breastplate. His weapon of choice ironically enough is a lance, yet he is trained with most other weapons.
Age: 34
Gender: Male
Race: Elf
Skills: Lance is a master Tactician and fighter. Keenly aware of his surroundings he is able to get an advantage almost anywhere on the battlefield. Not only this, but he is incredibly social, and is able to make friends very easily, because of this he has many connections.
History: Lance comes from the country of Ebberon, located to the far west. Born to a pair of army generals, Lance had little choice but to be raised as a soldier. He had an iron will and a strong arm at an early age, and only continued to improve, even to the point of surpassing his parents. When Ebberon went to war with a neighboring country, Kyber. Lance was chosen as an ambassador, and was able to easily convince the king to stop fighting. Unfortunately, shortly after, the king was assassinated and Kyber went to war with Ebberon. Lance was chosen to be one of five leaders in charge of the main bulk of Ebberon's army. Here is where Lance found his innate knack for tactics, defeating Skrimish after skrimish, they had easily captured the main city of Kyber.
Once the county was no longer at war, Lance was at a bit of a loss as to what to do. Planning was his specialty, yet he had no plan of action. Lance wandered around his hometown, doing whatever he could to help. He liked helping others, it gave the same sense of being useful as when he was a General. Shortly after, he decided that while his home was all well and good, he wanted to know what else he could do, and set out. Going from Country To Country, Lance was able to always make a few friends, and was always in a joyous state. Taking odd jobs here and there, Lance has a bit if experience with everything. Thus he arrived here, looking for what there is to see, and hoping to make some friends.
Lance had wandered from place to place helping people where he could. And yet he always felt... temporary. It was as if as soon as he was done with whatever task he was assigned, he was sent away, like he had outlived his usefulness. He wanted something more... Permanent? A career of sorts. But what? Most jobs weren't in his area of expertise. He was a natural born fighter and defender, what could he possibly do? Just as he was about to lose hope, he got word of a Baron looking for a guard of sorts to protect his daughter. This was his chance! Lance took the job in a heartbeat, knowing he'd finally be of significant use again.
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Lucky waved goodbye leaving the other has lead the two horse over to the water trough, the half elf unhitched the horses. Tying the horse in place he grunted as he pushed the carriage into the overhang by the stables to keep it out of the elements. Then carefully took both horses back into the stable, putting them in stalls he had just freshly bedded. He brought back apples for the two hard workers, then filled up water and food for the two before he turned away.
Walking back down the hall Lucky emerged into the his little home besides the stables, it was a small two room house that doubled as storage. However he couldn't complain he had a soft bed, hot food, and plenty of horses to keep him company out here. Fetching out his violin case, he sat down tuning it carefully deciding he would surprise the others with a little music later. Finishing the tuning, he got himself a glass of water and one of the apples he kept around for the horses.
Enjoying his snack, the boy got up and put away his violin in its case. Dusting himself off, and ordering the horses to be good in his absence the boy left to go find the others and play some music. Of course he knew nothing about the attempt by murder's with foul monsters approaching if he had he might have gotten a bow rather than a violin.
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Name: Skyler 'Lucky' Knox
Age: 12
Gender: Male
Race: Half-Elf
Skills: Skilled archer, kleptomaniac, mage, and time manipulator.
History: Skyler was born to an Elven mage mother and human bard father, this unusual union sired the boy. Born under the sign of thief, giving him a rather greedy mindset and quick fingers. Raised a small Elven city city state among Viscarian Confederation with many other half breed children. As he grew his father taught him to play the violin, giving him a love of music that never faded.
As the years went by and under his mothers tutelage, Skyler learned to control his special brand of magic, time manipulation. At first he could only alter time around himself slowing himself or speeding up. However he eventually learned to stop objects within two meters of himself. His powers are very particular, while he can pause objects like thrown fruit or knives in the air he must maintain the spell or they begin moving again.
He cannot stop a living creature like a bird or a person, he can affect his own body however allowing him to move quicker for roughly ten seconds or pause to think of a quick plan. He also has a size limit, the larger the object the shorter time he can hold it. The largest object he has stopped to is three closely fired arrows which he turned in the air within two seconds of stopping them. With his mothers death it is unlikely he will ever have another proper teacher though he still has her books to learn from.
During his time traveling with Rosa, he's kleptomaniac tendencies came into full swing. Where the two minstrels went coins and other shiny objects vanished. His aunt decided to put the boys Elven heritage to use. Giving him a bow she taught him how to string a bow, nock an arrow, and fire it. With practice he became quite the keen shooter able to hit targets at impressive distance for his age.
Recently he and his aunt stopped in Farlande Kingdom the two entertains performed in a local tavern. When a drunken crowd discovered their lightened pockets, they turned on the travelers. Rosa had worked with the local thieves guild to swipe the money, abandoning her nephew to the mercy of the crowd she escape on horse back. Alone and with most of the villages trust gone Skyler sold his horse and went to hunt for a job nearby.
His traveling experience gave him a good understanding horses and caring for them. As such he took a job as Baron Asmothe's stable boy. While few would want a Baron's daughter to associate with a low born, many hope his uncanny 'luck' will rub off on the Baron's daughter. Failing that he can help prevent accidents, with his unique abilities.
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Jack heard the ticking coming from Gear Heart but before he had a chance to ask Lance had answered his question. Jack quickly nodded in acknowledgement and proceeded to follow Lance for he clearly had experience in tracking that Jack lacked there of. As they scouted the tree line and then into the trees following close behind Lance He picked up on a familiar scent.
As four shaded figures came into sight and after Lance had spoken Jack quickly responded "Monsters....scrolls." Jack stopped dead in his tracks and only spoke once more. "Those beasts only have one thought process 'kill there target' and only that, they will head straight for Veronica now we must act, Tactics are your expertise so give the order and I will have your back, we can fight them now while there not ready or return and get the others ready for the attack."
Jack had been hunted many times by beasts of different shapes and sizes sent by other fighters to take him out of the competition. He new this was bad.
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Name: Jack Spades
Except for I have a patch over my left eye.
Scars: burn scars all over back, chest, and arms.
Age: 16
Gender: Male
Race: Human
Skills: Magic of flame to burn or shed light,
abstract combat with cards sharpened right,
But best of all I've saved for last
a once broken mind and poetic tongue to match.
History: I used to be named Jack of hearts, now let me tell you a story of how mine became dark.
It all started when I was but a boy, living on the streets where life was just a ploy.
Fighting to survive each and every day, always hoping for a hero always hoping to be saved.
See when I was 9 my father became ill, with my mother long gone too many tears had I spilled.
I did my best to keep him alive, but with no money or medicine my father soon died.
So I did what any kid would, I cried and yelled as loud as I could.
But no one would help a small boy in need, with nothing to offer but a voice of plead.
I soon learned that the world was dark, most people weren't kind nor' caring in heart.
So I stole and I fought for all that I needed, hardening my body but in my mind I was bleeding.
I tried to convince myself what I was doing wasn't wrong, that I had to think without my heart for mine was gone.
At the ripe age of eleven I was walking along, on to my next fight with a boy named Denton
I was fighting for money started just a year before, I strengthened my body but my mind was torn.
fifteen minutes past as the fight ended, Denton knocked out and my left eye wounded.
I got my pay for wining the fight, and just as I was leaving a man called me aside.
His name was Roye he said he'd been watching and waiting, to find someone for him to start training.
He was a curious man with fire in his eyes, he had a strange style and an even stranger mind.
He said he was a jester and a good one at that, but he soon was cast out for his constant spats.
He had power of flame wielding cards sharpened slick, but his brain was twisted and he loved playing tricks.
He said it was simple as he watched the tables turn, some people like to just watch the world burn.
For five long years I studied his flame and style, dawning the same wardrobe and that never fleeing smile.
One day it seemed like all the others before, till his pranks and his tricks led to burning down a door.
As I saw him enter the house a flame, I heard some screaming and yelling in pain.
Now we had played tricks and pranks on towns, but never had we ever brought death raining down.
I ran threw the flames just in time to see, a mother and child down on there knees.
As he raised his hand to finish them off, I threw my ace and his finger fell off.
He turned to me with hatred in his eyes, never have I seen this hobby he disguised.
I learned that night that he had a passion, killing innocent people in the most gruesome fashion.
As I looked at the mother and the child in her arms, I promised them that I would save them from harm.
It didn't take long our battle was short, as the family ran outside the building became scorched.
We both started burning in our own fire, I made it out while the flames grew higher.
From the ceiling fell a half burnt beam, and then all I heard was a blood curdling scream.
As the fire died people gathered around, and out of the ash they pulled a body they found.
It was the man with fire in his eyes, the evil man named Roye had finally died.
I then set out on my own journey, to find a new life and a new life I found surely.
I stopped in a town with a hell of a story, claiming there was a child with life filled with worry.
It made me stop and think about my own childhood, I figured I could still do this world some good.
If I protected this child from the curse forced upon her, It might just save my heart and also my honor.
I may not offer medical services and my people skills aren't great, but I am fairly decent at battling fate.
If ever a violence comes knocking be it beast or man, with my final breathe ill force myself to stand.
Ill always have a poetic joke and ill always lend an ear, a fire to light the way or simply a shoulder for falling tears.
So I threw down my black and white with my pointed hat of skulls, soon only to wreak havoc on those who appose.
I set off with the name Jack Spades,hoping to regain my heart and earn my family name.
As I approached the door to the house of the said curse, I vowed to protect this child all the way to my hearse.
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Alright, we've confirmed at least four, likely with beasts to aid them. Let's return to the others, we'll need to inform them and protect Veronica at all costs. Let's go. Running back to the main area, everything seemed to be fine. Maybe it was just the four... He ran to the Baron,"Sir, I have reason to believe that there is going to be an attempt on your daughter's life. Over by the forest, we've found four men likely about to set beasts rampart. You might want to get some guards, this could get ugly."
The first two he could find were Lucky and Noella. Noella appeared to doing...Something with the food, while Lucky was close by, playing his Violin. He stepped to Lucky and said:I have reason to believe that there is going to be an attempt on Veronica's life. Do not, I repeat, do not, let her any where near the forest, got it? I need you to tell the others. Jack already knows about this and is going to help you alert everybody. I'm going to get my gear, I'll be back shortly." This was when Lance noticed the boy had no real way of defending himself. He put his dagger into the boy's hand, in its scabbard."Put this in your pocket, or hide it in your boot. You might need. I'm off." And with that, Lance sprinted into the Manor to grab his equipment.
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Full name: Lance D'Phiarlin
Usually wearing a tunic, Lance blends into the crowd, but when it's time for battle, Lance wears scalemail covered by a central breastplate. His weapon of choice ironically enough is a lance, yet he is trained with most other weapons.
Age: 34
Gender: Male
Race: Elf
Skills: Lance is a master Tactician and fighter. Keenly aware of his surroundings he is able to get an advantage almost anywhere on the battlefield. Not only this, but he is incredibly social, and is able to make friends very easily, because of this he has many connections.
History: Lance comes from the country of Ebberon, located to the far west. Born to a pair of army generals, Lance had little choice but to be raised as a soldier. He had an iron will and a strong arm at an early age, and only continued to improve, even to the point of surpassing his parents. When Ebberon went to war with a neighboring country, Kyber. Lance was chosen as an ambassador, and was able to easily convince the king to stop fighting. Unfortunately, shortly after, the king was assassinated and Kyber went to war with Ebberon. Lance was chosen to be one of five leaders in charge of the main bulk of Ebberon's army. Here is where Lance found his innate knack for tactics, defeating Skrimish after skrimish, they had easily captured the main city of Kyber.
Once the county was no longer at war, Lance was at a bit of a loss as to what to do. Planning was his specialty, yet he had no plan of action. Lance wandered around his hometown, doing whatever he could to help. He liked helping others, it gave the same sense of being useful as when he was a General. Shortly after, he decided that while his home was all well and good, he wanted to know what else he could do, and set out. Going from Country To Country, Lance was able to always make a few friends, and was always in a joyous state. Taking odd jobs here and there, Lance has a bit if experience with everything. Thus he arrived here, looking for what there is to see, and hoping to make some friends.
Lance had wandered from place to place helping people where he could. And yet he always felt... temporary. It was as if as soon as he was done with whatever task he was assigned, he was sent away, like he had outlived his usefulness. He wanted something more... Permanent? A career of sorts. But what? Most jobs weren't in his area of expertise. He was a natural born fighter and defender, what could he possibly do? Just as he was about to lose hope, he got word of a Baron looking for a guard of sorts to protect his daughter. This was his chance! Lance took the job in a heartbeat, knowing he'd finally be of significant use again.
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Noella Le Sciellou
Current Location: The Asmothe Estate (Estate Entrance -> Picnic Grounds)
Noella approached the food being carried out for the picnic, and tasted each one for a double take to check any for any odd flavors that might be poison. Everything had seemed to be okay, at least to her. No odd flavors were noticed, and Noella wasn't on her knees and spewing blood from her eyes or being affected by some other dangerous side effect from a possible poison. The huntress went to give the chefs and servants delivering the food an okay when she noticed Lance and Jack venture deep in the forest, far from where the picnic would be held. Something was up, and Noella was sure she would soon find out.
"You all should get back to estate as quickly as you can. That's an order." The whiskered huntress stated, motioning with her hand for the chefs and other various servants to return to the estate as fast as they could. She looked at Gear Heart, and knew that he more than capable of watching the Baron and Veronica by himself for just a few seconds. He was a brute, and no sane person would try attacking a giant golem by themselves, especially one that could throw you quite literally into a wall. Using her brown and light green cloak as camouflage, Noella threw it over her head and darted off into the forest in search of one of the weapon caches she hid in case of an emergency just like this.
Of course, the arrow tips and blades were personally made dull by Noella in consideration for Veronica's safety. She had taken a rock to each sharp point, grinding the sharpness down so it would be impossible to cut someone with it. As a second safety measure, Noella had purchased a few magic lock boxes, those that only open when the owner touches it. She believed her plan foolproof, but in the case Veronica found one the caches, the baron's daughter would surely have someone with her to quickly take it away before, by the misfortune of her curse, she hurt herself.
"Now, where are these hoodlums located..." Noella mumbled as she crept along the treeline which kept herself hidden but close enough to have sight of the Baron and his daughter should she need to rush to their side. She knocked an arrow on her bow, and readied herself to blast these would-be assassins with the accuracy of a sharpshooter and the power of a modern day rubber bullet.
, , , ,
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Name: Noella Le Sciellou
Age: 17
Gender: Female
Race: Human
Theme
Background
Born to a peasant mother and a Farlande noble, Noella Le Sciellou is truly an unwanted rat. Her father wanted nothing to do with the illegitimate child that he had thrust onto Noella's mother, and because of her father's refusal to take responsibility, she has no idea of who her father is. At first, a low-born life was harsh for a young Noella, and her mother was sure that her daughter wouldn't make it through the cold winters. A peasant village had little to protect a child from a possible fever or cold nor the money to pay for a medical remedy, but Noella eventually prevailed through her childhood healthy as she could be.
By her teenage years, Noella was an experienced hunter. Making ends meet was tough, and because fur and meat were such sought after commodities, Noella had noticed she had a knack for hunting as she tried to alleviate her mother's financial problems. This knack eventually became known in the nearby villages, and Noella's fame had led to a wandering business selling prime cuts of meat and animal furs. One day, the baron had sent a rider to the villages in search of someone that could aid his daughter's plight. The rider had stumbled onto Noella, and he was impressed with her forte in meat and combat. After a background review by the Baron, Noella was soon offered a contract to help protect his daughter and sometimes help with meals. Taking the job mainly because of the high pay, Noella also took it to find out who her father is. Her father was always a mystery to Noella, and she believes that the Baron could help her locate him with the resources a nobleman would have.
Skills
First and foremost, Noella is a skilled huntress. Spending most of her time in the wilderness to support her mother, Noella is knowledgeable in different kinds of blades and ranged weapons to help her prepare an animal for eating by killing and cleansing it. She can also handle her own around various traps, especially animal traps repurposed to catch a human, and blend in the shadows when following a trail. Despite Noella's obvious lack of magic, she makes up for it in dexterity and her ability to travel rugged land where many others would not follow. Last but not least, Noella has somewhat of a silver tongue, and can make possible attempted assassinations much harder than they could be due to her quick-witted nature.
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The baron frowned when Lance came back with the news. This was not a good start to his daughter's picnic. "I will not have some lowlifes ruin this for my daughter. It would be best to take them out so they will never come back but I am sure the only way to do that would be to lure them in." The baron scratched his mustache as he tried to think of a solution.
"What's going on dad?" Veronica asked as she looked around at what everyone was doing.
"Nothing to worry about sugar, just a minor complication." The baron assured her before turning serious again. "Gear Heart, keep her safe. The rest of you be ready to engage at a moment's notice, let's see if we can lure them in and finish this before any of the hot food gets cold."
Intent on programming the beasts, the four sell swords did not notice they had been noticed; however the apparent leader looked through his eyeglass once again and noticed many of the servants going back into the mansion, something was wrong. "Curses they're on to us. Let's come back another day." He turned to his companions but the largest one looked sheepishly at him.
"Umm I'm afraid the programming has already been complete, we won't be able to take the beasts back with us." As if to emphasize his point, the closed bag was nearly bursting at the seams as the creatures tried desperately to escape and complete their task.
"Well isn't that great, those beasts cost a pretty penny. We'll just have to hope they can do the job for us." The grizzled leader took out a large knife and slashed open the bag, out popped three wriggling masses that looked like crosses between and eel and a lizard. With long, slim bodies, quite a few pairs of legs with nasty claws on them, and mouths like leeches they were gruesome looking specimens. About a meter and a half long each they were not the largest of creatures but they were fast, agile, and quite venomous. They were called Death Worms and had the nasty habit of latching on to their prey to dump their entire reserves of toxins into their target.
The Death Worms scuttled away toward their target, but instead of heading straight for Veronica they made a slight detour toward the pond, their instincts telling them to use the water as cover to reach their target as stealthfully as three semi-aquatic worms could.
The assassin captain watched as the creatures sped off and noticed their path. "Alright men, we'll provide cover for the creatures until they can reach that bit of water. Once they're in we'll retreat and come back another day to if those creatures are unsuccessful. Let's make it snappy!" The four men checked their equipment and took out their ranged weapons, three crossbows and a short bow and headed off after the monsters, looking around to shoot anyone who tried to intercept the creatures.
Of course this they were not expecting that someone was actually now behind them.
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Name: Veronica Asmothe
Appearance: Veronica
Age: 11
Gender: Female
Race: Human
Skills: Being cursed, getting into trouble, being cute, and daddy's money.
History:
Veronica has been cursed with a cruel fate. As if exposed to Murphy's law, potentially life threatening events keep happening to her. After being told that she was cursed, her Father very quickly started to hire the best protectors he could hire: Food testers, guards, tutors, apothecaries, even mechanics in order to find better ways to protect his daughter from the dangers that always follow her.
She has managed to survive so far though she does tend to get hurt a lot from so many close calls. She has stayed mostly at home for now while her family tries to figure out the best way to protect her. She does leave home occasionally and the older she gets, the more she will have to go out into the world despite her curse.
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Jack followed quickly behind Lance back to the picnic area and after Lance had spoken to the baron he went to dawn his gear. Jack stepped up putting himself between Veronica and the tree line. "Miss Veronica let's play a little game close your eyes and cover your ears, then count to 100 and do not peak no matter what you hear, When you reach that number think of your favorite animal and stay focused on that thought, I bet I can guess the first letter of that animals name now go ahead and give it shot." Jack gave her this ploy for he didn't want Veronica to see what was gonna go down over the next couple minutes.
He then turned to the baron and bowed while saying "It has been a pleasure serving under you Master and hopefully that won't stop now, but need it be I give my life just know I gladly shall." Jack then turned his gaze back to the tree line to watch for when the group approached.
As they did he spoke once more before the battle started. "Alright Veronica go ahead and start counting and remember to focus on the numbers, then the first letter of the animal you think of - in my head I will ponder."
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Name: Jack Spades
Except for I have a patch over my left eye.
Scars: burn scars all over back, chest, and arms.
Age: 16
Gender: Male
Race: Human
Skills: Magic of flame to burn or shed light,
abstract combat with cards sharpened right,
But best of all I've saved for last
a once broken mind and poetic tongue to match.
History: I used to be named Jack of hearts, now let me tell you a story of how mine became dark.
It all started when I was but a boy, living on the streets where life was just a ploy.
Fighting to survive each and every day, always hoping for a hero always hoping to be saved.
See when I was 9 my father became ill, with my mother long gone too many tears had I spilled.
I did my best to keep him alive, but with no money or medicine my father soon died.
So I did what any kid would, I cried and yelled as loud as I could.
But no one would help a small boy in need, with nothing to offer but a voice of plead.
I soon learned that the world was dark, most people weren't kind nor' caring in heart.
So I stole and I fought for all that I needed, hardening my body but in my mind I was bleeding.
I tried to convince myself what I was doing wasn't wrong, that I had to think without my heart for mine was gone.
At the ripe age of eleven I was walking along, on to my next fight with a boy named Denton
I was fighting for money started just a year before, I strengthened my body but my mind was torn.
fifteen minutes past as the fight ended, Denton knocked out and my left eye wounded.
I got my pay for wining the fight, and just as I was leaving a man called me aside.
His name was Roye he said he'd been watching and waiting, to find someone for him to start training.
He was a curious man with fire in his eyes, he had a strange style and an even stranger mind.
He said he was a jester and a good one at that, but he soon was cast out for his constant spats.
He had power of flame wielding cards sharpened slick, but his brain was twisted and he loved playing tricks.
He said it was simple as he watched the tables turn, some people like to just watch the world burn.
For five long years I studied his flame and style, dawning the same wardrobe and that never fleeing smile.
One day it seemed like all the others before, till his pranks and his tricks led to burning down a door.
As I saw him enter the house a flame, I heard some screaming and yelling in pain.
Now we had played tricks and pranks on towns, but never had we ever brought death raining down.
I ran threw the flames just in time to see, a mother and child down on there knees.
As he raised his hand to finish them off, I threw my ace and his finger fell off.
He turned to me with hatred in his eyes, never have I seen this hobby he disguised.
I learned that night that he had a passion, killing innocent people in the most gruesome fashion.
As I looked at the mother and the child in her arms, I promised them that I would save them from harm.
It didn't take long our battle was short, as the family ran outside the building became scorched.
We both started burning in our own fire, I made it out while the flames grew higher.
From the ceiling fell a half burnt beam, and then all I heard was a blood curdling scream.
As the fire died people gathered around, and out of the ash they pulled a body they found.
It was the man with fire in his eyes, the evil man named Roye had finally died.
I then set out on my own journey, to find a new life and a new life I found surely.
I stopped in a town with a hell of a story, claiming there was a child with life filled with worry.
It made me stop and think about my own childhood, I figured I could still do this world some good.
If I protected this child from the curse forced upon her, It might just save my heart and also my honor.
I may not offer medical services and my people skills aren't great, but I am fairly decent at battling fate.
If ever a violence comes knocking be it beast or man, with my final breathe ill force myself to stand.
Ill always have a poetic joke and ill always lend an ear, a fire to light the way or simply a shoulder for falling tears.
So I threw down my black and white with my pointed hat of skulls, soon only to wreak havoc on those who appose.
I set off with the name Jack Spades,hoping to regain my heart and earn my family name.
As I approached the door to the house of the said curse, I vowed to protect this child all the way to my hearse.
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Lucky had just been about to join the others, when dropped a daggers into his arms explaining a threat at Veronica's life. The boy sighed sliding the dagger in into his work boot, before moving towards the baron and his daughter. Quietly he took he hid his violin case in the bush's moving to stand in front of the baron and Veronica, the stable boy lifted his arms.
Along his skin blue lines formed as he channel mana, readying to cast spells if need be. Of course the Baron knew of the boys talent, but few others knew exactly how Lucky always managed to avoid accidents. He prepared himself for stopping bolt or arrows meant for the nobles behind him, a sort of personal barrier. He of course was no fully trained mage but rather a one trick mage, good thing it was a hell of a trick.
|
Name: Skyler 'Lucky' Knox
Age: 12
Gender: Male
Race: Half-Elf
Skills: Skilled archer, kleptomaniac, mage, and time manipulator.
History: Skyler was born to an Elven mage mother and human bard father, this unusual union sired the boy. Born under the sign of thief, giving him a rather greedy mindset and quick fingers. Raised a small Elven city city state among Viscarian Confederation with many other half breed children. As he grew his father taught him to play the violin, giving him a love of music that never faded.
As the years went by and under his mothers tutelage, Skyler learned to control his special brand of magic, time manipulation. At first he could only alter time around himself slowing himself or speeding up. However he eventually learned to stop objects within two meters of himself. His powers are very particular, while he can pause objects like thrown fruit or knives in the air he must maintain the spell or they begin moving again.
He cannot stop a living creature like a bird or a person, he can affect his own body however allowing him to move quicker for roughly ten seconds or pause to think of a quick plan. He also has a size limit, the larger the object the shorter time he can hold it. The largest object he has stopped to is three closely fired arrows which he turned in the air within two seconds of stopping them. With his mothers death it is unlikely he will ever have another proper teacher though he still has her books to learn from.
During his time traveling with Rosa, he's kleptomaniac tendencies came into full swing. Where the two minstrels went coins and other shiny objects vanished. His aunt decided to put the boys Elven heritage to use. Giving him a bow she taught him how to string a bow, nock an arrow, and fire it. With practice he became quite the keen shooter able to hit targets at impressive distance for his age.
Recently he and his aunt stopped in Farlande Kingdom the two entertains performed in a local tavern. When a drunken crowd discovered their lightened pockets, they turned on the travelers. Rosa had worked with the local thieves guild to swipe the money, abandoning her nephew to the mercy of the crowd she escape on horse back. Alone and with most of the villages trust gone Skyler sold his horse and went to hunt for a job nearby.
His traveling experience gave him a good understanding horses and caring for them. As such he took a job as Baron Asmothe's stable boy. While few would want a Baron's daughter to associate with a low born, many hope his uncanny 'luck' will rub off on the Baron's daughter. Failing that he can help prevent accidents, with his unique abilities.
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As Lance stepped through the gate of the manor, he was quite literally a knight in shining armor. The sunlight shined off of his scalemail and breastplate. In his hands he held a shield made of steel, and a Longsword made of the same. On his back was his tried and true lance. As tall as he was, it looked fierce and battle-ready. Strapped to his belt were two sturdy bottles, both from his alchemy class. They were a deep red, and could regenerate wounds fairly quickly. It was time.
Running towards the forest edge, several worm-like creatures could be seen skittering towards a nearby pond. Taking the same path around the trees, the four figures were visible with crossbows and a bow. They seemed to be defending the monsters. Taking a long path around, he managed to get behind the fellows. Just a few trees behind, a movement out of the corner of his eye startled him. Looking over, the familiar face of Noella could be seen in the bushes. Not a bad hiding spot. Now to wait for the perfect opportunity. If Noella fired first... he might be able to get a sneak attack in. But if not... well, guess it's headfirst into battle. Time to wait.
|
Full name: Lance D'Phiarlin
Usually wearing a tunic, Lance blends into the crowd, but when it's time for battle, Lance wears scalemail covered by a central breastplate. His weapon of choice ironically enough is a lance, yet he is trained with most other weapons.
Age: 34
Gender: Male
Race: Elf
Skills: Lance is a master Tactician and fighter. Keenly aware of his surroundings he is able to get an advantage almost anywhere on the battlefield. Not only this, but he is incredibly social, and is able to make friends very easily, because of this he has many connections.
History: Lance comes from the country of Ebberon, located to the far west. Born to a pair of army generals, Lance had little choice but to be raised as a soldier. He had an iron will and a strong arm at an early age, and only continued to improve, even to the point of surpassing his parents. When Ebberon went to war with a neighboring country, Kyber. Lance was chosen as an ambassador, and was able to easily convince the king to stop fighting. Unfortunately, shortly after, the king was assassinated and Kyber went to war with Ebberon. Lance was chosen to be one of five leaders in charge of the main bulk of Ebberon's army. Here is where Lance found his innate knack for tactics, defeating Skrimish after skrimish, they had easily captured the main city of Kyber.
Once the county was no longer at war, Lance was at a bit of a loss as to what to do. Planning was his specialty, yet he had no plan of action. Lance wandered around his hometown, doing whatever he could to help. He liked helping others, it gave the same sense of being useful as when he was a General. Shortly after, he decided that while his home was all well and good, he wanted to know what else he could do, and set out. Going from Country To Country, Lance was able to always make a few friends, and was always in a joyous state. Taking odd jobs here and there, Lance has a bit if experience with everything. Thus he arrived here, looking for what there is to see, and hoping to make some friends.
Lance had wandered from place to place helping people where he could. And yet he always felt... temporary. It was as if as soon as he was done with whatever task he was assigned, he was sent away, like he had outlived his usefulness. He wanted something more... Permanent? A career of sorts. But what? Most jobs weren't in his area of expertise. He was a natural born fighter and defender, what could he possibly do? Just as he was about to lose hope, he got word of a Baron looking for a guard of sorts to protect his daughter. This was his chance! Lance took the job in a heartbeat, knowing he'd finally be of significant use again.
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Noella Le Sciellou
Current Location: The Asmothe Estate (Picnic Grounds -> Estate Forest)
The silence and the tension would've driven a normal person crazy, but Noella, as a huntress, was used to both feelings. Stalking these bandits and criminals like a predator was no different than hunting an animal, except the fact that most animals wouldn't fight back and instead dart off into the distance. She took careful steps towards a tree, using the leaves and soft grass to cushion and silence her footsteps while Noella approached. Throwing her bow over the huntress' shoulder, she slowly began to inch her way up the tree and onto the large branches that would've surely fell if Noella was much, much heavier. "It shouldn't be hard to find other people in the forest from up here..." The whiskered huntress mumbled to herself, cupping her hands around her golden eyes like binoculars.
She smirked as Noella spotted the enemies, a small group of lowly assassins. Out of the four, one appeared to be the big honcho with a spyglass in his hands. Glancing behind herself to see if any of Noella's companions were following the source, the whiskered huntress noticed Lance, mainly because of his massive appearance in the plate armor he wore. As he looked back at her, Noella held out a hand with four fingers in the air, signifying how many men she had seen to the elf before Noella made her advance. Tiptoeing across a branch, the huntress approached the assassins with the stealth she prided herself on.
Taking advantage of the fact that the assassins had not seen neither Lance or Noella, she drew her bow and took a few seconds to calm herself before aiming it at the leader. The huntress needed to find a way to cripple him, or at least inflict enough fear in the underlings for Lance to come in and finish the job. The groin or the leg might be a suitable place, but assassins are always known for their superb agility... Hopefully he isn't any better than the rest of his men. Noella thought, bring her bow down to the lower half of the leader's body. Pulling the bowstring backwards, she silently launched one of the blunted arrows at the assassins' superior, and hoped that the unknown might knock him off his feet and startle the rest of the assassins.
, , , ,
|
Name: Noella Le Sciellou
Age: 17
Gender: Female
Race: Human
Theme
Background
Born to a peasant mother and a Farlande noble, Noella Le Sciellou is truly an unwanted rat. Her father wanted nothing to do with the illegitimate child that he had thrust onto Noella's mother, and because of her father's refusal to take responsibility, she has no idea of who her father is. At first, a low-born life was harsh for a young Noella, and her mother was sure that her daughter wouldn't make it through the cold winters. A peasant village had little to protect a child from a possible fever or cold nor the money to pay for a medical remedy, but Noella eventually prevailed through her childhood healthy as she could be.
By her teenage years, Noella was an experienced hunter. Making ends meet was tough, and because fur and meat were such sought after commodities, Noella had noticed she had a knack for hunting as she tried to alleviate her mother's financial problems. This knack eventually became known in the nearby villages, and Noella's fame had led to a wandering business selling prime cuts of meat and animal furs. One day, the baron had sent a rider to the villages in search of someone that could aid his daughter's plight. The rider had stumbled onto Noella, and he was impressed with her forte in meat and combat. After a background review by the Baron, Noella was soon offered a contract to help protect his daughter and sometimes help with meals. Taking the job mainly because of the high pay, Noella also took it to find out who her father is. Her father was always a mystery to Noella, and she believes that the Baron could help her locate him with the resources a nobleman would have.
Skills
First and foremost, Noella is a skilled huntress. Spending most of her time in the wilderness to support her mother, Noella is knowledgeable in different kinds of blades and ranged weapons to help her prepare an animal for eating by killing and cleansing it. She can also handle her own around various traps, especially animal traps repurposed to catch a human, and blend in the shadows when following a trail. Despite Noella's obvious lack of magic, she makes up for it in dexterity and her ability to travel rugged land where many others would not follow. Last but not least, Noella has somewhat of a silver tongue, and can make possible attempted assassinations much harder than they could be due to her quick-witted nature.
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Veronica was old enough to know what Jack was up to, along with plenty of experience, but she also had faith in the companions around her so she relented to his request. Veronica turned toward gear heart, closed her eyes and leaned up against him as if starting a game of hide-and-go-seek.
"1, 2, 3..." She started to count while thinking of what animal to reply with at the end. The baron smiled at her but then turned when he noticed the approaching beasts and assassins. The ugly creatures making a beeline for the pond so that they could then emerge from it as close to their quarry as possible, also the water would make them more slippery and harder to catch.
The leader noticed something behind him too late to dodge and the blunted arrow hit him in the back of the knee, causing him to collapse as his knee buckled outward and threw him off balance. Instantly on guard the small pack quickly turned around to spot Noella and Lance, one spotted her and fired his crossbow. The other one had a short bow and fired a shot at lance, but quickly switched to his melee weapon, a cruel looking mace so he went to intercept Lance. The large one kept going along with the creatures as he kept an eye on the enemies ahead and the target as well.
The leader took a few moments to get back up but he had his eyes on the prize and kept going forward as well. "Let's keep these fools busy while the creatures get into a flanking position!"
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Name: Veronica Asmothe
Appearance: Veronica
Age: 11
Gender: Female
Race: Human
Skills: Being cursed, getting into trouble, being cute, and daddy's money.
History:
Veronica has been cursed with a cruel fate. As if exposed to Murphy's law, potentially life threatening events keep happening to her. After being told that she was cursed, her Father very quickly started to hire the best protectors he could hire: Food testers, guards, tutors, apothecaries, even mechanics in order to find better ways to protect his daughter from the dangers that always follow her.
She has managed to survive so far though she does tend to get hurt a lot from so many close calls. She has stayed mostly at home for now while her family tries to figure out the best way to protect her. She does leave home occasionally and the older she gets, the more she will have to go out into the world despite her curse.
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As the arrow soared past Lance, he realized his time to go was now. Rushing forward with his shield up, he deflected another shot, and was now in front of the new man. Bashing him in the face with his shield, a quick few slashes to face did him in. The other one in the meantime had readied yet another shot, an it struck Lance in the arm. Reeling back, Lance rushed forward and tackled him. A quick stab to the head was all it took. Standing back up the leader attempted to shoot at him, but missed entirely. Slashing him accross the chest and then tackling him, the bandit was out cold. Scrambling to his feet, he ran towards the escaping assassin. Lance shouted to all in the area as loud as he could: "Attack! Don't let him reach Veronica!"
|
Full name: Lance D'Phiarlin
Usually wearing a tunic, Lance blends into the crowd, but when it's time for battle, Lance wears scalemail covered by a central breastplate. His weapon of choice ironically enough is a lance, yet he is trained with most other weapons.
Age: 34
Gender: Male
Race: Elf
Skills: Lance is a master Tactician and fighter. Keenly aware of his surroundings he is able to get an advantage almost anywhere on the battlefield. Not only this, but he is incredibly social, and is able to make friends very easily, because of this he has many connections.
History: Lance comes from the country of Ebberon, located to the far west. Born to a pair of army generals, Lance had little choice but to be raised as a soldier. He had an iron will and a strong arm at an early age, and only continued to improve, even to the point of surpassing his parents. When Ebberon went to war with a neighboring country, Kyber. Lance was chosen as an ambassador, and was able to easily convince the king to stop fighting. Unfortunately, shortly after, the king was assassinated and Kyber went to war with Ebberon. Lance was chosen to be one of five leaders in charge of the main bulk of Ebberon's army. Here is where Lance found his innate knack for tactics, defeating Skrimish after skrimish, they had easily captured the main city of Kyber.
Once the county was no longer at war, Lance was at a bit of a loss as to what to do. Planning was his specialty, yet he had no plan of action. Lance wandered around his hometown, doing whatever he could to help. He liked helping others, it gave the same sense of being useful as when he was a General. Shortly after, he decided that while his home was all well and good, he wanted to know what else he could do, and set out. Going from Country To Country, Lance was able to always make a few friends, and was always in a joyous state. Taking odd jobs here and there, Lance has a bit if experience with everything. Thus he arrived here, looking for what there is to see, and hoping to make some friends.
Lance had wandered from place to place helping people where he could. And yet he always felt... temporary. It was as if as soon as he was done with whatever task he was assigned, he was sent away, like he had outlived his usefulness. He wanted something more... Permanent? A career of sorts. But what? Most jobs weren't in his area of expertise. He was a natural born fighter and defender, what could he possibly do? Just as he was about to lose hope, he got word of a Baron looking for a guard of sorts to protect his daughter. This was his chance! Lance took the job in a heartbeat, knowing he'd finally be of significant use again.
|
3,113
| 68
| 27
| 1,833
| 2,421
|
Noella Le Sciellou
Current Location: The Asmothe Estate (Estate Forest)
Gotcha! The whiskered huntress smiled as her arrow hit right on target with the desired effect. She hoped that the bandits hadn't spotted her location as the arrow flew into their ranks, but to Noella's dismay, the assassins immediately knew where the huntress was. One of the bandits had fired an arrow at Noella, and she reflexively leaped backwards to dodge the projectile. The sudden movement on the branch caused it to shake and bounce, disrupting the huntress' balance. Her foot slipped off the edge, and Noella would certainly become a flat pancake if she didn't think up something fast.
Contorting her body upside down, Noella latched on the branch upside down, using her legs to keep herself from falling towards the ground again. "Looks like I'm in quite the pickle now..." The huntress said out loud. There was no reason to be silent anymore now that her cover was blown and the bandits knew where Noella was hiding. Yet it was like the god of luck was watching over the huntress when Lance came charging out of the woods like a knight in shining armor as he took advantage of the sudden confusion that was sown from her distraction. Breathing a sigh of relief, Noella couldn't help but to smirk and laugh at the bandits as the odds were slowly beginning to favor Lance and herself. "Hah! You may call us fools, but let us see how you deal with Lance the Bear!" The huntress shouted, as if she was taunting the lowly would-be assassins.
Believing that Lance could handle the three bandits below her, Noella turned her bow towards the large bandit following the creatures they had released. Her field of depth was skewed by being upside down, but the huntress felt that she could hit him at the distance that she and the bandit were apart. Pulling back her bow string, she launched an arrow at the assassin, and the projectile clonked him in the back of his head in view of Gear Heart, Jack and everyone else that was still with the Baron. Despite knowing none of them probably couldn't see her from their position, she waved at them in a playful manner, but quickly and almost desperately pointed towards the water in case anyone did happen to see the battle on the other side of the lake.
, , , ,
|
Name: Noella Le Sciellou
Age: 17
Gender: Female
Race: Human
Theme
Background
Born to a peasant mother and a Farlande noble, Noella Le Sciellou is truly an unwanted rat. Her father wanted nothing to do with the illegitimate child that he had thrust onto Noella's mother, and because of her father's refusal to take responsibility, she has no idea of who her father is. At first, a low-born life was harsh for a young Noella, and her mother was sure that her daughter wouldn't make it through the cold winters. A peasant village had little to protect a child from a possible fever or cold nor the money to pay for a medical remedy, but Noella eventually prevailed through her childhood healthy as she could be.
By her teenage years, Noella was an experienced hunter. Making ends meet was tough, and because fur and meat were such sought after commodities, Noella had noticed she had a knack for hunting as she tried to alleviate her mother's financial problems. This knack eventually became known in the nearby villages, and Noella's fame had led to a wandering business selling prime cuts of meat and animal furs. One day, the baron had sent a rider to the villages in search of someone that could aid his daughter's plight. The rider had stumbled onto Noella, and he was impressed with her forte in meat and combat. After a background review by the Baron, Noella was soon offered a contract to help protect his daughter and sometimes help with meals. Taking the job mainly because of the high pay, Noella also took it to find out who her father is. Her father was always a mystery to Noella, and she believes that the Baron could help her locate him with the resources a nobleman would have.
Skills
First and foremost, Noella is a skilled huntress. Spending most of her time in the wilderness to support her mother, Noella is knowledgeable in different kinds of blades and ranged weapons to help her prepare an animal for eating by killing and cleansing it. She can also handle her own around various traps, especially animal traps repurposed to catch a human, and blend in the shadows when following a trail. Despite Noella's obvious lack of magic, she makes up for it in dexterity and her ability to travel rugged land where many others would not follow. Last but not least, Noella has somewhat of a silver tongue, and can make possible attempted assassinations much harder than they could be due to her quick-witted nature.
|
3,114
| 68
| 28
| 2,036
| 2,453
|
Gear Heart surveyed the fight going on at the picnic area. The large golem paid less attention to the assassins being dealt with by Veronica's other protectors and more attention to the trio of death worms making their way towards the pond. Though small and easily squashable, Gear Heart knew they were the biggest threat to Veronica's safety. So the further away they were from Veronica when the squashing started, the better. With that in mind Gear Heart charged forward.
Even if the assassins were still in a position to effectively cover the death worms, there would be no stopping Gear Heart now. The worms made their way into the pond and emerged soon after, the water on their bodies glistening in the sunlight. They barely made it a meter out of the water before Gear Heart was upon them. The 1st worm was reduced to a long thin pancake by an iron foot. The 2nd met the same fate beneath Gear Heart's palm soon after. Gear Heart then clasped his hands together and brought them down on the final death worm with a loud crash. The death worms were no more.
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Name: Gear Heart Mark 4
Appearance
Age: 10
Gender: None (But referred to in male terms.)
Race: Iron Golem
Skills: Amazing Strength: What can he lift? An easier question would be what can't he lift.
Incredible Durability: It'll take some serious effort to put him down.
Lacks Human Needs: Gear Heart needs no sleep, sustenance, or air.
Music Box: When the gears exposed by the heart shaped hole in the golem's chest start turning, a built in music box begins playing a beautiful song.
Rapid Plant Growth: Gear Heart has the ability to quickly grow various plant on his body. Though there seems to be no plant Gear Heart can't grow, he usually only grows poppies, vines, and dandelions.
6th Sense: Gear Heart always innately knows Veronica's current location and if she's in danger.
History: Ever since their 1st appearance, golems have been universally considered a modern marvel. But none have been more so acclaimed than the Gear Heart models. Created by an eccentric gnome inventor through top secret methods, the Gear Hearts are as sought after and beneficial to their owners as they are rare. And with each version, Gear Hearts become even more sought after, even more of an asset, and even harder to find.
So this begs the question. How did a minor noble like Baron Asmothe get his hands on such a golem? Honest payment? Dishonest villainy? Neither. The answer is much more simple and like the eccentric gnome who made the golems in the 1st place, rather strange. On the day of Veronica's 1st birthday, she was stolen from her crib by 1 of the servants. The servant would have escaped unnoticed had it not been for a large box blocking the front door. After the servant was caught, the box was opened. Inside was a freshly made Gear Heart Mark 4. It was the 1st of its kind and the most advanced model at the time. Along with it came a note from the inventor wishing the baron luck with his cursed daughter. How the gnome knew of the curse or why he gave away a highly expensive golem free of charge is anyone's guess. But even so, Gear Heart has been around ever since and rarely leaves Veronica's side.
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As the large man ran through the field, he suddenly fell down face first. Likely an arrow from Noella. Leaping on top of the man, he struggled relentlessly, but in a manner of seconds, his arms were behind his back, and was in a Chokehold. Forty seconds passed before his flailing stopped. During this time, he saw Gear Heart rushing towards the pond and crushing, presumably, the monsters. Either that or, he hates frogs. "Hey! Gear Heart! Take this guy to the Baron. Let him decide what to do with him. But, obviously, don't let this guy anywhere near Veronica." Taking the assassin'assassin's crossbow and bolts, we went towards the forest to grab the bandit he hadn't killed. Still unconscious, he proved to be much lighter than Lance though he would be. Maybe he's just a lot stronger than he thought. On the way back, Lance found Noella sitting in one of the trees. He looked at her with a grin."Lance the Bear huh? Heh, figured I'd be more of a Lion guy, but Bear works too. Let's see what the Baron wants to do with these guys." Shifting the unconscious man's weight, Lance felt a sharp pain in his upper bicep. "I should also probably get this looked at." He said, tilting his head in the direction of the bolt stuck in his arm.
|
Full name: Lance D'Phiarlin
Usually wearing a tunic, Lance blends into the crowd, but when it's time for battle, Lance wears scalemail covered by a central breastplate. His weapon of choice ironically enough is a lance, yet he is trained with most other weapons.
Age: 34
Gender: Male
Race: Elf
Skills: Lance is a master Tactician and fighter. Keenly aware of his surroundings he is able to get an advantage almost anywhere on the battlefield. Not only this, but he is incredibly social, and is able to make friends very easily, because of this he has many connections.
History: Lance comes from the country of Ebberon, located to the far west. Born to a pair of army generals, Lance had little choice but to be raised as a soldier. He had an iron will and a strong arm at an early age, and only continued to improve, even to the point of surpassing his parents. When Ebberon went to war with a neighboring country, Kyber. Lance was chosen as an ambassador, and was able to easily convince the king to stop fighting. Unfortunately, shortly after, the king was assassinated and Kyber went to war with Ebberon. Lance was chosen to be one of five leaders in charge of the main bulk of Ebberon's army. Here is where Lance found his innate knack for tactics, defeating Skrimish after skrimish, they had easily captured the main city of Kyber.
Once the county was no longer at war, Lance was at a bit of a loss as to what to do. Planning was his specialty, yet he had no plan of action. Lance wandered around his hometown, doing whatever he could to help. He liked helping others, it gave the same sense of being useful as when he was a General. Shortly after, he decided that while his home was all well and good, he wanted to know what else he could do, and set out. Going from Country To Country, Lance was able to always make a few friends, and was always in a joyous state. Taking odd jobs here and there, Lance has a bit if experience with everything. Thus he arrived here, looking for what there is to see, and hoping to make some friends.
Lance had wandered from place to place helping people where he could. And yet he always felt... temporary. It was as if as soon as he was done with whatever task he was assigned, he was sent away, like he had outlived his usefulness. He wanted something more... Permanent? A career of sorts. But what? Most jobs weren't in his area of expertise. He was a natural born fighter and defender, what could he possibly do? Just as he was about to lose hope, he got word of a Baron looking for a guard of sorts to protect his daughter. This was his chance! Lance took the job in a heartbeat, knowing he'd finally be of significant use again.
|
3,116
| 68
| 30
| 2,036
| 2,453
|
Gear Heart turned towards Lance when the elf called out to the golem. Gear Heart then looked at the unconscious assassin Lance was referring to. After a moment, the golem walked over to the assassin and picked him up. Gear Heart then took the assassin back to the baron, placed the man on the ground, and held him down with the foot he used to crush 1 of the death worms. Gear Heart then looked at the baron and awaited his judgement.
|
Name: Gear Heart Mark 4
Appearance
Age: 10
Gender: None (But referred to in male terms.)
Race: Iron Golem
Skills: Amazing Strength: What can he lift? An easier question would be what can't he lift.
Incredible Durability: It'll take some serious effort to put him down.
Lacks Human Needs: Gear Heart needs no sleep, sustenance, or air.
Music Box: When the gears exposed by the heart shaped hole in the golem's chest start turning, a built in music box begins playing a beautiful song.
Rapid Plant Growth: Gear Heart has the ability to quickly grow various plant on his body. Though there seems to be no plant Gear Heart can't grow, he usually only grows poppies, vines, and dandelions.
6th Sense: Gear Heart always innately knows Veronica's current location and if she's in danger.
History: Ever since their 1st appearance, golems have been universally considered a modern marvel. But none have been more so acclaimed than the Gear Heart models. Created by an eccentric gnome inventor through top secret methods, the Gear Hearts are as sought after and beneficial to their owners as they are rare. And with each version, Gear Hearts become even more sought after, even more of an asset, and even harder to find.
So this begs the question. How did a minor noble like Baron Asmothe get his hands on such a golem? Honest payment? Dishonest villainy? Neither. The answer is much more simple and like the eccentric gnome who made the golems in the 1st place, rather strange. On the day of Veronica's 1st birthday, she was stolen from her crib by 1 of the servants. The servant would have escaped unnoticed had it not been for a large box blocking the front door. After the servant was caught, the box was opened. Inside was a freshly made Gear Heart Mark 4. It was the 1st of its kind and the most advanced model at the time. Along with it came a note from the inventor wishing the baron luck with his cursed daughter. How the gnome knew of the curse or why he gave away a highly expensive golem free of charge is anyone's guess. But even so, Gear Heart has been around ever since and rarely leaves Veronica's side.
|
3,117
| 68
| 31
| 1,053
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When Gear Heart moved to attack the death worms, poor Veronica, who had been leaning against him and had reached fifty, fell to the ground with a thud. Veronica pushed herself off the ground with a scowl and a face full of grass. "Moouh, why is this happening!" She complained as Gear Heart started to squash the monsters.
The threat appeared to be taken care of between everyone and it was soon quiet. Gear Heart brought over the last surviving assassin to the baron and was ready to smash him if necessary. The baron reached over and slapped the man awake. The opened his eyes and quickly realized his predicament, things had gotten really bad.
"Now I have only one question for you, who hired you to kill my daughter?" The baron glared down at him and pointed his sword at his forehead. The man said nothing but then spotted Veronica a few feet away but was careful not to show it as Veronica made her way over to her dad.
"Well I guess I can say they are very influential, in certain circles." The man admitted to bid some, while he quickly snagged a death worm claw from the bottom of Gear Heart's foot and hurled it at Veronica's neck. The man would not know if he was successful or not as the baron stabbed him a moment too late, the claw already on its deadly course.
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Name: Veronica Asmothe
Appearance: Veronica
Age: 11
Gender: Female
Race: Human
Skills: Being cursed, getting into trouble, being cute, and daddy's money.
History:
Veronica has been cursed with a cruel fate. As if exposed to Murphy's law, potentially life threatening events keep happening to her. After being told that she was cursed, her Father very quickly started to hire the best protectors he could hire: Food testers, guards, tutors, apothecaries, even mechanics in order to find better ways to protect his daughter from the dangers that always follow her.
She has managed to survive so far though she does tend to get hurt a lot from so many close calls. She has stayed mostly at home for now while her family tries to figure out the best way to protect her. She does leave home occasionally and the older she gets, the more she will have to go out into the world despite her curse.
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Lucky had remained had just relaxed his glowing stopped following Veronica towards her father, however he watched the man before them. His eyes darted for a moment to Veronica, they reminded him of a thief planning... Oh no. He gave a quick step forward, then a second as the man grabbed the claw and through it. Throwing his left hand out in front of Veronica as he grabbed her shoulder with his right to hold her still, a foot from her face the claw froze in the air as Lucky glowed once more. He hugged Veronica pulling her from it's path before he released it letting it fly harmlessly to where it fell upon the ground. Pulling both kids to the ground however Lucky put himself between her and the ground to keep her safe.
Grunting as he hit the ground Lucky looked around and then at Veronica before smiling softly. "You're safe now." He told her as sat up somewhat looking at the Baron giving a nod as he started to help Veronica up. "So.... I guess the cat is out of the bag about my magic huh?" The boy blushed a little not really familiar with the heroic line of work that protecting someone would bring. After they had gotten up he walked over looking around really hoping people were not going to start asking him questions, a time mage was a rarity even untrained. "So uh... I can alter an object's relationship with reality... With my mind." He said giving simple terms to what he could do.
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Name: Skyler 'Lucky' Knox
Age: 12
Gender: Male
Race: Half-Elf
Skills: Skilled archer, kleptomaniac, mage, and time manipulator.
History: Skyler was born to an Elven mage mother and human bard father, this unusual union sired the boy. Born under the sign of thief, giving him a rather greedy mindset and quick fingers. Raised a small Elven city city state among Viscarian Confederation with many other half breed children. As he grew his father taught him to play the violin, giving him a love of music that never faded.
As the years went by and under his mothers tutelage, Skyler learned to control his special brand of magic, time manipulation. At first he could only alter time around himself slowing himself or speeding up. However he eventually learned to stop objects within two meters of himself. His powers are very particular, while he can pause objects like thrown fruit or knives in the air he must maintain the spell or they begin moving again.
He cannot stop a living creature like a bird or a person, he can affect his own body however allowing him to move quicker for roughly ten seconds or pause to think of a quick plan. He also has a size limit, the larger the object the shorter time he can hold it. The largest object he has stopped to is three closely fired arrows which he turned in the air within two seconds of stopping them. With his mothers death it is unlikely he will ever have another proper teacher though he still has her books to learn from.
During his time traveling with Rosa, he's kleptomaniac tendencies came into full swing. Where the two minstrels went coins and other shiny objects vanished. His aunt decided to put the boys Elven heritage to use. Giving him a bow she taught him how to string a bow, nock an arrow, and fire it. With practice he became quite the keen shooter able to hit targets at impressive distance for his age.
Recently he and his aunt stopped in Farlande Kingdom the two entertains performed in a local tavern. When a drunken crowd discovered their lightened pockets, they turned on the travelers. Rosa had worked with the local thieves guild to swipe the money, abandoning her nephew to the mercy of the crowd she escape on horse back. Alone and with most of the villages trust gone Skyler sold his horse and went to hunt for a job nearby.
His traveling experience gave him a good understanding horses and caring for them. As such he took a job as Baron Asmothe's stable boy. While few would want a Baron's daughter to associate with a low born, many hope his uncanny 'luck' will rub off on the Baron's daughter. Failing that he can help prevent accidents, with his unique abilities.
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Noella Le Sciellou
Current Location: The Asmothe Estate (Estate Forest -> Picnic Grounds)
"I-It was a spur of the moment, alright?" Noella exclaimed, looking around at her surroundings. She was still upside down, dangling from the tree and unsure how she was going to get back on her feet again. The huntress had to decide something fast as the blood rushing to her head was making her dizzy, and Noella was having trouble focusing. "A-Ah, well... let's see..." She muttered as the huntress leaned backwards and then quickly thrust her body forward in an attempt to stand upwards once more. Sadly, Noella wasn't as lucky as before, nor did she have the luck of Skyler, as she overestimated her landing and threw herself into a bush, but the whiskered huntress was lucky enough for it to be comfortable without sustaining too much injury from the impact.
"T-Tch... That probably wasn't the best decision I've made." Noella stood up from the bush, and plucked her clothing free. Watching the huntress try to walk was like seeing a drunkard, and she stumbled for a few minor moments as Noella's sense of depth and gravity came back. She looked on to see Lance had already disappeared on his quest to capture the other men, and saw that the problem had mostly resolved itself until the captured bandit threw one of the worm's claws at Veronica just as the Baron executed him. No! I'm too far away! Noella thought, sprinting towards the rest of the crowd in fear while muttering a prayer that any of her companions might stop the claw from impaling Veronica.
To Noella, it was ironic that an elf named Lucky was truly lucky. Reaching the Baron just as Lucky was helping Veronica up, the huntress breathed a sigh of relief. "I'm just glad that you were fast enough to rescue Veronica, Lucky. Without your magic, it might've not been possible." Noella replied with a smile as she plucked free a leaf that was tangled in her hair.
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Name: Noella Le Sciellou
Age: 17
Gender: Female
Race: Human
Theme
Background
Born to a peasant mother and a Farlande noble, Noella Le Sciellou is truly an unwanted rat. Her father wanted nothing to do with the illegitimate child that he had thrust onto Noella's mother, and because of her father's refusal to take responsibility, she has no idea of who her father is. At first, a low-born life was harsh for a young Noella, and her mother was sure that her daughter wouldn't make it through the cold winters. A peasant village had little to protect a child from a possible fever or cold nor the money to pay for a medical remedy, but Noella eventually prevailed through her childhood healthy as she could be.
By her teenage years, Noella was an experienced hunter. Making ends meet was tough, and because fur and meat were such sought after commodities, Noella had noticed she had a knack for hunting as she tried to alleviate her mother's financial problems. This knack eventually became known in the nearby villages, and Noella's fame had led to a wandering business selling prime cuts of meat and animal furs. One day, the baron had sent a rider to the villages in search of someone that could aid his daughter's plight. The rider had stumbled onto Noella, and he was impressed with her forte in meat and combat. After a background review by the Baron, Noella was soon offered a contract to help protect his daughter and sometimes help with meals. Taking the job mainly because of the high pay, Noella also took it to find out who her father is. Her father was always a mystery to Noella, and she believes that the Baron could help her locate him with the resources a nobleman would have.
Skills
First and foremost, Noella is a skilled huntress. Spending most of her time in the wilderness to support her mother, Noella is knowledgeable in different kinds of blades and ranged weapons to help her prepare an animal for eating by killing and cleansing it. She can also handle her own around various traps, especially animal traps repurposed to catch a human, and blend in the shadows when following a trail. Despite Noella's obvious lack of magic, she makes up for it in dexterity and her ability to travel rugged land where many others would not follow. Last but not least, Noella has somewhat of a silver tongue, and can make possible attempted assassinations much harder than they could be due to her quick-witted nature.
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Lance ran behind Noella, bolt in arm and the assassin still slung across his shoulders just in time to see the assassin throw the claw, an Veronica getting tackled out of the way. Out of breath, Lance made it back to the team."Nice going, kid! Quite impressive." The boy's magic came as no surprise to Lance. He'd seen magic users before, and now was no different. He turned to the Baron. "What do you say we take this one somewhere more... solitary. Away from Veronica. We might be able to get some information out of this guy." He then turned to Lucky. "Hey. You can keep the knife. Think of it as a thank-you gift for saving Veronica. Don't worry, I've got plenty more." Shifting the man's weight once more, Lance felt another sharp pain in his arm. Yanking the bolt out of his arm and snapping it in half in one fluid motion, he put it into a small case pocket on the side of his armor. Grabbing one of the red flasks that hung on his belt, he took a quick swig and put it back. "So, Where am I taking this guy?" He said, pointing at the man on his shoulders.
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Full name: Lance D'Phiarlin
Usually wearing a tunic, Lance blends into the crowd, but when it's time for battle, Lance wears scalemail covered by a central breastplate. His weapon of choice ironically enough is a lance, yet he is trained with most other weapons.
Age: 34
Gender: Male
Race: Elf
Skills: Lance is a master Tactician and fighter. Keenly aware of his surroundings he is able to get an advantage almost anywhere on the battlefield. Not only this, but he is incredibly social, and is able to make friends very easily, because of this he has many connections.
History: Lance comes from the country of Ebberon, located to the far west. Born to a pair of army generals, Lance had little choice but to be raised as a soldier. He had an iron will and a strong arm at an early age, and only continued to improve, even to the point of surpassing his parents. When Ebberon went to war with a neighboring country, Kyber. Lance was chosen as an ambassador, and was able to easily convince the king to stop fighting. Unfortunately, shortly after, the king was assassinated and Kyber went to war with Ebberon. Lance was chosen to be one of five leaders in charge of the main bulk of Ebberon's army. Here is where Lance found his innate knack for tactics, defeating Skrimish after skrimish, they had easily captured the main city of Kyber.
Once the county was no longer at war, Lance was at a bit of a loss as to what to do. Planning was his specialty, yet he had no plan of action. Lance wandered around his hometown, doing whatever he could to help. He liked helping others, it gave the same sense of being useful as when he was a General. Shortly after, he decided that while his home was all well and good, he wanted to know what else he could do, and set out. Going from Country To Country, Lance was able to always make a few friends, and was always in a joyous state. Taking odd jobs here and there, Lance has a bit if experience with everything. Thus he arrived here, looking for what there is to see, and hoping to make some friends.
Lance had wandered from place to place helping people where he could. And yet he always felt... temporary. It was as if as soon as he was done with whatever task he was assigned, he was sent away, like he had outlived his usefulness. He wanted something more... Permanent? A career of sorts. But what? Most jobs weren't in his area of expertise. He was a natural born fighter and defender, what could he possibly do? Just as he was about to lose hope, he got word of a Baron looking for a guard of sorts to protect his daughter. This was his chance! Lance took the job in a heartbeat, knowing he'd finally be of significant use again.
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Gear Heart looked on as the assassin threw the claw at Veronica. Though the baron had already killed the man, Gear Heart still crushed the assassin's corpse. Gear Heart then looked back at Veronica. The girl was safe, pulled out of harm's way by the stable boy who had also used magic to halt the claw's progress long enough to successfully move Veronica out of the way. After Lucky explained his magic to all present and the 2 elves had said their peace, Gear Heart approached the boy and held out his large metal hand. Within seconds, a poppy had bloomed on the golem's hand for Lucky to take. Gear Heart then reached his other hand out to Veronica and offered her a poppy as well.
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Name: Gear Heart Mark 4
Appearance
Age: 10
Gender: None (But referred to in male terms.)
Race: Iron Golem
Skills: Amazing Strength: What can he lift? An easier question would be what can't he lift.
Incredible Durability: It'll take some serious effort to put him down.
Lacks Human Needs: Gear Heart needs no sleep, sustenance, or air.
Music Box: When the gears exposed by the heart shaped hole in the golem's chest start turning, a built in music box begins playing a beautiful song.
Rapid Plant Growth: Gear Heart has the ability to quickly grow various plant on his body. Though there seems to be no plant Gear Heart can't grow, he usually only grows poppies, vines, and dandelions.
6th Sense: Gear Heart always innately knows Veronica's current location and if she's in danger.
History: Ever since their 1st appearance, golems have been universally considered a modern marvel. But none have been more so acclaimed than the Gear Heart models. Created by an eccentric gnome inventor through top secret methods, the Gear Hearts are as sought after and beneficial to their owners as they are rare. And with each version, Gear Hearts become even more sought after, even more of an asset, and even harder to find.
So this begs the question. How did a minor noble like Baron Asmothe get his hands on such a golem? Honest payment? Dishonest villainy? Neither. The answer is much more simple and like the eccentric gnome who made the golems in the 1st place, rather strange. On the day of Veronica's 1st birthday, she was stolen from her crib by 1 of the servants. The servant would have escaped unnoticed had it not been for a large box blocking the front door. After the servant was caught, the box was opened. Inside was a freshly made Gear Heart Mark 4. It was the 1st of its kind and the most advanced model at the time. Along with it came a note from the inventor wishing the baron luck with his cursed daughter. How the gnome knew of the curse or why he gave away a highly expensive golem free of charge is anyone's guess. But even so, Gear Heart has been around ever since and rarely leaves Veronica's side.
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It had all happened so fast for poor Veronica, first something was being flung at her face and next she knew, she was lying on top of Lucky. While she certainly played with Lucky more than other servants due to his age, being in such close contact to the boy was not something she was exactly used to. Wide-eyed, she looked down at Lucky like a fawn in the lamp light.
"You're safe now." Came his soft voice into her ears, turning them pink. As he sat up she quickly scrambled away and turned her head to make sure her hair was in the way, so the redness wasn't apparent. Veronica wasn't exactly sure what just happened but for the moment she just decided to take in a few deep breathes.
After regaining her senses, she saw Gear Heart offer flowers to both her and Lucky. Not wanting to be rude to the friendly golem, she took the flower but then turned and offered hers to Lucky. "Thank you Lucky, I feel like you deserve both of them." She desperately tried to keep a straight face as she offered the flower to the half-elf, but could only do so by only half looking at him.
The baron was pleased as he saw everyone return, not uninjured but at least nothing fatal. "Lance, Noelle, Gear Heart, Jack, and Lucky, jobs well done. As for the remaining assassin Lance, I've heard the pig pen is especially muddy this year, might be a suitable location for our guest."
The baron looked around and sighed, "Well, we will have to move the picnic a ways so some of the servants can clean up here. Still, this will not stop me from enjoying some quality time with my daughter." He smiled again, and as the servants came out to help, he was there along with them in moving the picnic to another area near the lake.
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Name: Veronica Asmothe
Appearance: Veronica
Age: 11
Gender: Female
Race: Human
Skills: Being cursed, getting into trouble, being cute, and daddy's money.
History:
Veronica has been cursed with a cruel fate. As if exposed to Murphy's law, potentially life threatening events keep happening to her. After being told that she was cursed, her Father very quickly started to hire the best protectors he could hire: Food testers, guards, tutors, apothecaries, even mechanics in order to find better ways to protect his daughter from the dangers that always follow her.
She has managed to survive so far though she does tend to get hurt a lot from so many close calls. She has stayed mostly at home for now while her family tries to figure out the best way to protect her. She does leave home occasionally and the older she gets, the more she will have to go out into the world despite her curse.
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Lucky blushed a deep red as the other poured in the compliments, he really couldn't take all the praise. "It's fine... I really just want to help out. It's not like my magic's a big deal or anything." The added, modestly he took the flower from Gear Heart gratefully however when Veronica gave him a second poppy he could hardly meet her eyes. Taking it shyly he stepped back from the others. "Any time Lady Veronica... I am just here to serve."
He looked at Noella first his blush fading some then to Lance the two here he looked up to the most. "I think I'd like to train more... I need to learn how to fight and move like you guys do, I can't always depend on changing time." He said hoping the two would understand why he wanted to learn and be willing to teach him. "I think knives would be best for me..." The young boy added, already brain storming where he could 'borrow' well balanced knifes to practice throwing.
With the others finishing up he walked back grabbing his violin case, so he could perform a tune or two for the others at the picnic.
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Name: Skyler 'Lucky' Knox
Age: 12
Gender: Male
Race: Half-Elf
Skills: Skilled archer, kleptomaniac, mage, and time manipulator.
History: Skyler was born to an Elven mage mother and human bard father, this unusual union sired the boy. Born under the sign of thief, giving him a rather greedy mindset and quick fingers. Raised a small Elven city city state among Viscarian Confederation with many other half breed children. As he grew his father taught him to play the violin, giving him a love of music that never faded.
As the years went by and under his mothers tutelage, Skyler learned to control his special brand of magic, time manipulation. At first he could only alter time around himself slowing himself or speeding up. However he eventually learned to stop objects within two meters of himself. His powers are very particular, while he can pause objects like thrown fruit or knives in the air he must maintain the spell or they begin moving again.
He cannot stop a living creature like a bird or a person, he can affect his own body however allowing him to move quicker for roughly ten seconds or pause to think of a quick plan. He also has a size limit, the larger the object the shorter time he can hold it. The largest object he has stopped to is three closely fired arrows which he turned in the air within two seconds of stopping them. With his mothers death it is unlikely he will ever have another proper teacher though he still has her books to learn from.
During his time traveling with Rosa, he's kleptomaniac tendencies came into full swing. Where the two minstrels went coins and other shiny objects vanished. His aunt decided to put the boys Elven heritage to use. Giving him a bow she taught him how to string a bow, nock an arrow, and fire it. With practice he became quite the keen shooter able to hit targets at impressive distance for his age.
Recently he and his aunt stopped in Farlande Kingdom the two entertains performed in a local tavern. When a drunken crowd discovered their lightened pockets, they turned on the travelers. Rosa had worked with the local thieves guild to swipe the money, abandoning her nephew to the mercy of the crowd she escape on horse back. Alone and with most of the villages trust gone Skyler sold his horse and went to hunt for a job nearby.
His traveling experience gave him a good understanding horses and caring for them. As such he took a job as Baron Asmothe's stable boy. While few would want a Baron's daughter to associate with a low born, many hope his uncanny 'luck' will rub off on the Baron's daughter. Failing that he can help prevent accidents, with his unique abilities.
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The pig pen eh? Well, I suppose I could pay them a visit. Why not? Luckily the pen wasn't to far of a walk. A large muddy fenced off area filled with squealing pink pigs. Lance noticed a few of the males butting heads, looking very angry at each other. This would do nicely. A few turned their heads towards Lance, a look of malice in their eyes. Oh yes. About this time the assassin began to wriggle around on Lance's shoulders."Rise and shine big guy. I've got a surprise for you." Before the man could utter a word, Lance grabbed him by the neck and threw him into the pen. Not a second passed before the pigs began charging him.
The next 30 minutes were a sight to behold. Between falling over constantly from the muddied ground, to getting knocked off his feet by rampaging pigs, Lance couldn't help but laugh. Suddenly the man had somehow gotten his footing and made a beeline straight for the fence. Unfortunately for this man, his face was covered in mud, and he had no clue where he was going. Unknowingly, he ran straight towards Lance and he attempted to jump the fence. WHAM! Lance brought up his shield and bashed it into the man's face. Now unconscious once more, Lance grabbed him by the wrist and dragged him over to a pair of guards who were also watching the spectacle. "Throw him in the brigs or something. Lock him up and we'll do something with him later. And if he wakes up, knock his ass out again." And with that, Lance rejoined the rest of the party.
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Full name: Lance D'Phiarlin
Usually wearing a tunic, Lance blends into the crowd, but when it's time for battle, Lance wears scalemail covered by a central breastplate. His weapon of choice ironically enough is a lance, yet he is trained with most other weapons.
Age: 34
Gender: Male
Race: Elf
Skills: Lance is a master Tactician and fighter. Keenly aware of his surroundings he is able to get an advantage almost anywhere on the battlefield. Not only this, but he is incredibly social, and is able to make friends very easily, because of this he has many connections.
History: Lance comes from the country of Ebberon, located to the far west. Born to a pair of army generals, Lance had little choice but to be raised as a soldier. He had an iron will and a strong arm at an early age, and only continued to improve, even to the point of surpassing his parents. When Ebberon went to war with a neighboring country, Kyber. Lance was chosen as an ambassador, and was able to easily convince the king to stop fighting. Unfortunately, shortly after, the king was assassinated and Kyber went to war with Ebberon. Lance was chosen to be one of five leaders in charge of the main bulk of Ebberon's army. Here is where Lance found his innate knack for tactics, defeating Skrimish after skrimish, they had easily captured the main city of Kyber.
Once the county was no longer at war, Lance was at a bit of a loss as to what to do. Planning was his specialty, yet he had no plan of action. Lance wandered around his hometown, doing whatever he could to help. He liked helping others, it gave the same sense of being useful as when he was a General. Shortly after, he decided that while his home was all well and good, he wanted to know what else he could do, and set out. Going from Country To Country, Lance was able to always make a few friends, and was always in a joyous state. Taking odd jobs here and there, Lance has a bit if experience with everything. Thus he arrived here, looking for what there is to see, and hoping to make some friends.
Lance had wandered from place to place helping people where he could. And yet he always felt... temporary. It was as if as soon as he was done with whatever task he was assigned, he was sent away, like he had outlived his usefulness. He wanted something more... Permanent? A career of sorts. But what? Most jobs weren't in his area of expertise. He was a natural born fighter and defender, what could he possibly do? Just as he was about to lose hope, he got word of a Baron looking for a guard of sorts to protect his daughter. This was his chance! Lance took the job in a heartbeat, knowing he'd finally be of significant use again.
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Noella Le Sciellou
Current Location: The Asmothe Estate (Picnic Grounds -> Forest -> Picnic Grounds)
"W-well, I think I owe you at least a lesson or two for your heroic actions today, Lucky." Noella replied as she glanced at the elf, and then to Veronica. Veronica appeared shaken, but more so embarrassed like Lucky was as Lance and the huntress complimented him on his quick thinking. She couldn't help to grin at the two youngsters' display. The first hint of young love was always cute, and Noella heard many tales of love from the elderly in her village. It felt like a shame to the huntress that she never had the time to experience such a feeling. In order to support her mother, any activity that required free time was usually put on the back burner. Noella rarely had the time to goof around, but sometimes life was cruel and you always went on. That was what the whiskered huntress did in the past, and that is what she intended to keep doing until the end of her days.
She watched Lance disappear with the assassin and made his way towards the pig pen, and Noella turned her gaze back to the rest of the party and her companions. "I'll take care of their blades, sir. The food has been already tested, and you shouldn't have any reason to worry. I'll be back shortly in time to join you." The huntress told the Baron, and quickly went to gather the weapons before Veronica got a hold of them and cut herself. Walking deep into the forest, the huntress looked around for a rock and when she found one, Noella banged the edges against the rocks repeatedly to dull the blades. "Average quality... I could always sharpen the edges before the next time I go to the city..." She spoke to herself, debating whether to keep the now dull blades for some extra dough for her mother when the Baron required Noella to go to the nearby town. In the end, they were placed inside the magic box that housed her bow, and the huntress made her way back to the picnic grounds.
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Name: Noella Le Sciellou
Age: 17
Gender: Female
Race: Human
Theme
Background
Born to a peasant mother and a Farlande noble, Noella Le Sciellou is truly an unwanted rat. Her father wanted nothing to do with the illegitimate child that he had thrust onto Noella's mother, and because of her father's refusal to take responsibility, she has no idea of who her father is. At first, a low-born life was harsh for a young Noella, and her mother was sure that her daughter wouldn't make it through the cold winters. A peasant village had little to protect a child from a possible fever or cold nor the money to pay for a medical remedy, but Noella eventually prevailed through her childhood healthy as she could be.
By her teenage years, Noella was an experienced hunter. Making ends meet was tough, and because fur and meat were such sought after commodities, Noella had noticed she had a knack for hunting as she tried to alleviate her mother's financial problems. This knack eventually became known in the nearby villages, and Noella's fame had led to a wandering business selling prime cuts of meat and animal furs. One day, the baron had sent a rider to the villages in search of someone that could aid his daughter's plight. The rider had stumbled onto Noella, and he was impressed with her forte in meat and combat. After a background review by the Baron, Noella was soon offered a contract to help protect his daughter and sometimes help with meals. Taking the job mainly because of the high pay, Noella also took it to find out who her father is. Her father was always a mystery to Noella, and she believes that the Baron could help her locate him with the resources a nobleman would have.
Skills
First and foremost, Noella is a skilled huntress. Spending most of her time in the wilderness to support her mother, Noella is knowledgeable in different kinds of blades and ranged weapons to help her prepare an animal for eating by killing and cleansing it. She can also handle her own around various traps, especially animal traps repurposed to catch a human, and blend in the shadows when following a trail. Despite Noella's obvious lack of magic, she makes up for it in dexterity and her ability to travel rugged land where many others would not follow. Last but not least, Noella has somewhat of a silver tongue, and can make possible attempted assassinations much harder than they could be due to her quick-witted nature.
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Jack stayed by Veronica the entire time but none of the enemy had gotten close and the others had taken care of them. After the action gear heart brought a man still alive to speak and as he threw the claw Jack saw lucky next to Veronica and then the next second they were on the ground. Everything went so fast that next he new another assassin was being taken to the pig pen.
Jack then turned to the baron and asked "Might I have some time with the assassin so bold, in an attempt to make him spill his story untold, for I have experience with goons like this, and I can be very persuasive when the time calls upon it." Jack turned looking at the escape attempt the assassin made before Lance punched him back out and laughed a little bit as he turned back to the baron for his answer.
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Name: Jack Spades
Except for I have a patch over my left eye.
Scars: burn scars all over back, chest, and arms.
Age: 16
Gender: Male
Race: Human
Skills: Magic of flame to burn or shed light,
abstract combat with cards sharpened right,
But best of all I've saved for last
a once broken mind and poetic tongue to match.
History: I used to be named Jack of hearts, now let me tell you a story of how mine became dark.
It all started when I was but a boy, living on the streets where life was just a ploy.
Fighting to survive each and every day, always hoping for a hero always hoping to be saved.
See when I was 9 my father became ill, with my mother long gone too many tears had I spilled.
I did my best to keep him alive, but with no money or medicine my father soon died.
So I did what any kid would, I cried and yelled as loud as I could.
But no one would help a small boy in need, with nothing to offer but a voice of plead.
I soon learned that the world was dark, most people weren't kind nor' caring in heart.
So I stole and I fought for all that I needed, hardening my body but in my mind I was bleeding.
I tried to convince myself what I was doing wasn't wrong, that I had to think without my heart for mine was gone.
At the ripe age of eleven I was walking along, on to my next fight with a boy named Denton
I was fighting for money started just a year before, I strengthened my body but my mind was torn.
fifteen minutes past as the fight ended, Denton knocked out and my left eye wounded.
I got my pay for wining the fight, and just as I was leaving a man called me aside.
His name was Roye he said he'd been watching and waiting, to find someone for him to start training.
He was a curious man with fire in his eyes, he had a strange style and an even stranger mind.
He said he was a jester and a good one at that, but he soon was cast out for his constant spats.
He had power of flame wielding cards sharpened slick, but his brain was twisted and he loved playing tricks.
He said it was simple as he watched the tables turn, some people like to just watch the world burn.
For five long years I studied his flame and style, dawning the same wardrobe and that never fleeing smile.
One day it seemed like all the others before, till his pranks and his tricks led to burning down a door.
As I saw him enter the house a flame, I heard some screaming and yelling in pain.
Now we had played tricks and pranks on towns, but never had we ever brought death raining down.
I ran threw the flames just in time to see, a mother and child down on there knees.
As he raised his hand to finish them off, I threw my ace and his finger fell off.
He turned to me with hatred in his eyes, never have I seen this hobby he disguised.
I learned that night that he had a passion, killing innocent people in the most gruesome fashion.
As I looked at the mother and the child in her arms, I promised them that I would save them from harm.
It didn't take long our battle was short, as the family ran outside the building became scorched.
We both started burning in our own fire, I made it out while the flames grew higher.
From the ceiling fell a half burnt beam, and then all I heard was a blood curdling scream.
As the fire died people gathered around, and out of the ash they pulled a body they found.
It was the man with fire in his eyes, the evil man named Roye had finally died.
I then set out on my own journey, to find a new life and a new life I found surely.
I stopped in a town with a hell of a story, claiming there was a child with life filled with worry.
It made me stop and think about my own childhood, I figured I could still do this world some good.
If I protected this child from the curse forced upon her, It might just save my heart and also my honor.
I may not offer medical services and my people skills aren't great, but I am fairly decent at battling fate.
If ever a violence comes knocking be it beast or man, with my final breathe ill force myself to stand.
Ill always have a poetic joke and ill always lend an ear, a fire to light the way or simply a shoulder for falling tears.
So I threw down my black and white with my pointed hat of skulls, soon only to wreak havoc on those who appose.
I set off with the name Jack Spades,hoping to regain my heart and earn my family name.
As I approached the door to the house of the said curse, I vowed to protect this child all the way to my hearse.
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The baron frowned when Jack said he wanted to interrogate the last surviving assassin. As much as he would like to find a way to get at the person who hired the group, he also knew Jack did not exactly have an 'ethical' background. He might be able to garner some information but at what cost? He could not let the actions of someone under his employment reflect poorly on his family, he had trouble enough keeping his family's reputation alive with just all the incidents with his daughter being constantly discussed among the gentry.
His need to protect his daughter won out in the end. "You may do as you wish, out of sight and report back to me." The baron felt he could allow a little bending, if it would ultimately help out his daughter.
It did not take long for the grounds to be moved away from the carnage and soon nearly everyone in the household had come out to join in the festivities. Pies, ales, wines, plenty of fruit, cheeses, breads, and various other items to eat and drink were being based around. The baron looked at his daughter with a smile, with his wife beside him.
The Lady of the House was a pretty red-head with porcelin skin who appeared quite fragile. It was unfortunate but her appearance was actually quite in line with her physically. She was not very strong, had frequent ailments and in general was not up to the task of taking care of a daughter who almost died every Tuesday. Every moment she could spend time with her daughter was precious but the emotional and physical toil often kept her away for her own safety.
At the moment, the noble couple looked warmly at the scene of Veronica playing a game called Freeze-Run. It was a simple game where one person was the Gate-Wizard who guarded a section of ground that the others were attempting to run across. The Gate-Wizard would have their back to them, people would try to run but then the Gate-Wizard would 'cast' a freeze spell and turn around. Anyway still in motion would 'shatter' and be sent back to the beginning.
At the moment a good bit of the help had been roped into playing as Veronica played the role of the Gate-Wizard to perfection. "Mhahahah. You shall not pass! Thou shall never make it to the other side!" Complete with a giant Wizard hat the baron had acquired in the city a while ago, Veronica grinned at everyone who was stalk still. "Hmm, I must recharge my magics, it will only be a moment." Veronica turned around and started to mumble non-sense, signaling everyone involved to start running.
After a few seconds, Veronica spun around a little too quickly while yelling, "Freeze!", forcing her to use one hand to hold onto the ridiculously large purple, wide-brimmed, hat. Her free hand was pointed at the contestants, with an opened palm and fingers splayed apart for dramatic effect as if she had just cast the spell. Most managed to stop but one of the servants was in too awkward a pose and crashed to the ground.
Veronica tried to make the sound of breaking ice and would not have been very convincing had she not raised up her hands as if signaling an explosion of epic proportions. "Boom! Jill you're broken! Back to the start." The servant laughed and did as she was told.
"I hope moments like this never end." The Lady of the house whispered to her husband and slipped a dainty hand into his. The baron could only nod in agreement and bask in his daughters cuteness and his wife's kindness. It was moments like these he fought for, each and every day.
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Name: Veronica Asmothe
Appearance: Veronica
Age: 11
Gender: Female
Race: Human
Skills: Being cursed, getting into trouble, being cute, and daddy's money.
History:
Veronica has been cursed with a cruel fate. As if exposed to Murphy's law, potentially life threatening events keep happening to her. After being told that she was cursed, her Father very quickly started to hire the best protectors he could hire: Food testers, guards, tutors, apothecaries, even mechanics in order to find better ways to protect his daughter from the dangers that always follow her.
She has managed to survive so far though she does tend to get hurt a lot from so many close calls. She has stayed mostly at home for now while her family tries to figure out the best way to protect her. She does leave home occasionally and the older she gets, the more she will have to go out into the world despite her curse.
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Gear Heart had been roped into the game along with the other servants. Gear Heart was quite good at Freeze-Run, but only as a runner*. Although his slow and steady pace made sure he was only occasionally the 1st to pass the Gate-Wizard and the sound of his feet meeting the ground with a audible thud gave away his distance from victory, the golem had never been caught moving. Thud...Thud....Thud...Thud...The moment Veronica looked away, she could hear Gear Heart begin to move. Thud...Thud....Thud...Thu-CLANG! As Veronica turned around to freeze the runners once again, a loud clang could be heard from within Gear Heart's body as his servos locked up and rendered the golem incapable of any and all movement. Once Veronica turned away again, Gear Heart resumed moving. The process repeated itself until Gear Heart finally passed Veronica.
*After an incident where he almost hit Veronica full in the face with 1 of his large metal hands after turning a little overzealously during his 1st time being the Gate-Wizard, the baron decided letting Gear Heart play that particular role wasn't the bast idea in the world.
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Name: Gear Heart Mark 4
Appearance
Age: 10
Gender: None (But referred to in male terms.)
Race: Iron Golem
Skills: Amazing Strength: What can he lift? An easier question would be what can't he lift.
Incredible Durability: It'll take some serious effort to put him down.
Lacks Human Needs: Gear Heart needs no sleep, sustenance, or air.
Music Box: When the gears exposed by the heart shaped hole in the golem's chest start turning, a built in music box begins playing a beautiful song.
Rapid Plant Growth: Gear Heart has the ability to quickly grow various plant on his body. Though there seems to be no plant Gear Heart can't grow, he usually only grows poppies, vines, and dandelions.
6th Sense: Gear Heart always innately knows Veronica's current location and if she's in danger.
History: Ever since their 1st appearance, golems have been universally considered a modern marvel. But none have been more so acclaimed than the Gear Heart models. Created by an eccentric gnome inventor through top secret methods, the Gear Hearts are as sought after and beneficial to their owners as they are rare. And with each version, Gear Hearts become even more sought after, even more of an asset, and even harder to find.
So this begs the question. How did a minor noble like Baron Asmothe get his hands on such a golem? Honest payment? Dishonest villainy? Neither. The answer is much more simple and like the eccentric gnome who made the golems in the 1st place, rather strange. On the day of Veronica's 1st birthday, she was stolen from her crib by 1 of the servants. The servant would have escaped unnoticed had it not been for a large box blocking the front door. After the servant was caught, the box was opened. Inside was a freshly made Gear Heart Mark 4. It was the 1st of its kind and the most advanced model at the time. Along with it came a note from the inventor wishing the baron luck with his cursed daughter. How the gnome knew of the curse or why he gave away a highly expensive golem free of charge is anyone's guess. But even so, Gear Heart has been around ever since and rarely leaves Veronica's side.
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Lance watched as the people played their games and as food and drink were brought out. An hour or so had passed, but Lance still deciding to keep his armor on. It was easier to put on than take off. His sword was sheathed and hilt buckled on his side, to prevent anybody from taking it out without reason. His shield was still in his left hand, to the point where he had almost forgotten about it. Almost. His lance, was strapped to his back still, sharp end covered by a thick sturdy leather cover, an pointed upwards. Far out of reach from Veronica. He had recently given the poor assassin to the man called Jack. Fearing Jack might kill him, he gave J one of his Regeneration potions. Just in case he needed it. The other potion was still strapped to his belt, capped off with a cork in a vial. In the meantime, Lance had gotten a book from the manor's library. This book detailed different types of plants that could be found in the country, as well as some of their properties. All from poison-thorned plants to medicinal herbs.
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Full name: Lance D'Phiarlin
Usually wearing a tunic, Lance blends into the crowd, but when it's time for battle, Lance wears scalemail covered by a central breastplate. His weapon of choice ironically enough is a lance, yet he is trained with most other weapons.
Age: 34
Gender: Male
Race: Elf
Skills: Lance is a master Tactician and fighter. Keenly aware of his surroundings he is able to get an advantage almost anywhere on the battlefield. Not only this, but he is incredibly social, and is able to make friends very easily, because of this he has many connections.
History: Lance comes from the country of Ebberon, located to the far west. Born to a pair of army generals, Lance had little choice but to be raised as a soldier. He had an iron will and a strong arm at an early age, and only continued to improve, even to the point of surpassing his parents. When Ebberon went to war with a neighboring country, Kyber. Lance was chosen as an ambassador, and was able to easily convince the king to stop fighting. Unfortunately, shortly after, the king was assassinated and Kyber went to war with Ebberon. Lance was chosen to be one of five leaders in charge of the main bulk of Ebberon's army. Here is where Lance found his innate knack for tactics, defeating Skrimish after skrimish, they had easily captured the main city of Kyber.
Once the county was no longer at war, Lance was at a bit of a loss as to what to do. Planning was his specialty, yet he had no plan of action. Lance wandered around his hometown, doing whatever he could to help. He liked helping others, it gave the same sense of being useful as when he was a General. Shortly after, he decided that while his home was all well and good, he wanted to know what else he could do, and set out. Going from Country To Country, Lance was able to always make a few friends, and was always in a joyous state. Taking odd jobs here and there, Lance has a bit if experience with everything. Thus he arrived here, looking for what there is to see, and hoping to make some friends.
Lance had wandered from place to place helping people where he could. And yet he always felt... temporary. It was as if as soon as he was done with whatever task he was assigned, he was sent away, like he had outlived his usefulness. He wanted something more... Permanent? A career of sorts. But what? Most jobs weren't in his area of expertise. He was a natural born fighter and defender, what could he possibly do? Just as he was about to lose hope, he got word of a Baron looking for a guard of sorts to protect his daughter. This was his chance! Lance took the job in a heartbeat, knowing he'd finally be of significant use again.
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The rest of the day was a resounding success. Veronica only choked on food two times, fell in the lake once, and one large watermelon almost hit her in the head. Everything was quickly taken care of as it appeared and the entire household got to enjoy themselves to the utmost.
Jack did some rather intense interrogation on the last surviving attacker but got very little useful information. Before they could give him over to authorities he committed suicide however under Jack's watch. Soon after the baron decided to fire Jack who went on back into the world. The baron was actually rather grateful he left without a fuss.
Before anyone knew it a year had already passed, making Veronica the ripe age of eleven.
"Are you sure this contraption is stable?" The baron questioned as he poked around his newest purchase, a horseless carriage. A very diminutive pixie fluttered around in a shocked fashion, meaning very erratically as it tried to defend its work.
"Of course it is! The gearbox has been triple-checked! I would stake my reputation as the best engineer in all of Brighton!"
"Ohh, but I thought you were the second best?" The baron countered without batting an eye as he continued his inspection over all the shiny metal that comprised the machinery that allowed the carriage to move without any animal power.
The two foot-tall pixie seemed to buzz as its ruby red wings moved like a hummingbird's wings in frustration. "Please, that no good gnome hack might have a much bigger operation but he can't do the find detail work that I can!"
"I have great respect for your work, and I really do thank you for coming all this way to do a check even after I bought it. I really hope this will make a great addition to my house and allow me to get home even sooner." It had been a very expensive purchase and he'd be feeling like he had a hole in his money pocket for a while but the benefits such a machine could bring had been too good to pass up. He just hoped it would not come and backfire on him later.
"Thank you for your service. I'll have James take care of anything you need before you head back." The baron figured this would be as safe as he could make the inspection and turned toward the pixie to thank it.
"Thank you your lordship, I'll happily take you up on the offer." The pixie's irritation gone, he flew away to find James and get some tea before heading back to Brighton.
The baron looked back at the fancy machine with worry. "Well, I hope you're up for a trip, cause it is high time I take my daughter on a trip to the city." The gear laden carriage shone with splendor as if to say it would complete the trip without fail. The baron certainly hoped that was the case.
Veronica happily played with a rather large playhouse in the middle of a special playroom inside the mansion. It was large, two-story, and was cut in half so that her dolls could populate the inside while she made up stories. The current drama seemed to be a family dispute between Mr and Mrs Bunny and their human offspring.
"How many times have I told Danny, you cannot go into town on your own? What if something had happened to you because of those hoodlims you hang out with?" Mrs. Bunny scolded Danny, a young boy doll with dark hair.
"Why do you always have to get in the way mom? I have great fun every time I'm over there! It's perfectly safe!" Danny argued back fiercely.
"Now you listen to your mother young man or one day you're going to regret it!" Mr Bunny said in his wife's defense.
"Honey, let me handle this." Mrs. Bunny said, then continued to explain to her son what horrible things could happen to him. The funny thing was that Veronica had actually had quite a few of things things happen, or at least been attempted against her so the drama was not exactly that far from home.
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Name: Veronica Asmothe
Appearance: Veronica
Age: 11
Gender: Female
Race: Human
Skills: Being cursed, getting into trouble, being cute, and daddy's money.
History:
Veronica has been cursed with a cruel fate. As if exposed to Murphy's law, potentially life threatening events keep happening to her. After being told that she was cursed, her Father very quickly started to hire the best protectors he could hire: Food testers, guards, tutors, apothecaries, even mechanics in order to find better ways to protect his daughter from the dangers that always follow her.
She has managed to survive so far though she does tend to get hurt a lot from so many close calls. She has stayed mostly at home for now while her family tries to figure out the best way to protect her. She does leave home occasionally and the older she gets, the more she will have to go out into the world despite her curse.
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Noella Le Sciellou
Current Location: The Asmothe Estate (Veronica's Playhouse)
The year went by, of course, with quite a few incidents. Wherever Veronica went, bad luck would always follow her like a stalker, yet that was the effects of her curse. Thankfully, Noella and the rest of the Baron's servants were always there to watch over his daughter like hawks. With them on patrol, surely nothing had the chance to harm Veronica, and ultimately Noella was glad that the girl was alive and well. Over the past year, she had begun to dote on Veronica as if she was her younger sister - a feeling Noella never was able to experience as an only child.
When Jack left, Noella had some difficulties with his dismissal. The two of them had rarely talked, yet the man was a friend. She had enjoyed his rhymes and poems, and Noella thought the Baron could employ Jack elsewhere in the estate, but the Baron's word was law. In the end, the Baron was only thinking of his daughter, and Jack had let the captured assassin commit suicide under his watch. It didn't take long for Noella to realize that Jack's failure to keep the man alive could in the future have dangerous effects for Veronica once she understood the reason for Jack's firing. As he left, Noella hoped he would one day visit again, or perhaps the two might meet up down in the nearby city on a later date.
As expected of Noella, she didn't let her thoughts distract her from her duties. Noella was often the one that watched over Veronica in her playhouse while Lance, Lucky and Gear Heart all went to do their own thing elsewhere on the estate grounds. She didn't know what they were doing most of the time, but Noella felt that they were probably bothering each other about what the other could teach them while listening or watching in the distance if anything felt off nearby.
Glancing at the doll in her hand, Noella smiled as she listened to Mrs. Bunny's speech about the possibly bad events that would happen if Danny had went to town on his own. "What if I go to town with him, mom? I'll watch over him!" Noella replied, moving the doll closer to Danny and the bunny couple as she tried her hardest to make her voice sound younger, almost high-pitched like a young child.
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Name: Noella Le Sciellou
Age: 17
Gender: Female
Race: Human
Theme
Background
Born to a peasant mother and a Farlande noble, Noella Le Sciellou is truly an unwanted rat. Her father wanted nothing to do with the illegitimate child that he had thrust onto Noella's mother, and because of her father's refusal to take responsibility, she has no idea of who her father is. At first, a low-born life was harsh for a young Noella, and her mother was sure that her daughter wouldn't make it through the cold winters. A peasant village had little to protect a child from a possible fever or cold nor the money to pay for a medical remedy, but Noella eventually prevailed through her childhood healthy as she could be.
By her teenage years, Noella was an experienced hunter. Making ends meet was tough, and because fur and meat were such sought after commodities, Noella had noticed she had a knack for hunting as she tried to alleviate her mother's financial problems. This knack eventually became known in the nearby villages, and Noella's fame had led to a wandering business selling prime cuts of meat and animal furs. One day, the baron had sent a rider to the villages in search of someone that could aid his daughter's plight. The rider had stumbled onto Noella, and he was impressed with her forte in meat and combat. After a background review by the Baron, Noella was soon offered a contract to help protect his daughter and sometimes help with meals. Taking the job mainly because of the high pay, Noella also took it to find out who her father is. Her father was always a mystery to Noella, and she believes that the Baron could help her locate him with the resources a nobleman would have.
Skills
First and foremost, Noella is a skilled huntress. Spending most of her time in the wilderness to support her mother, Noella is knowledgeable in different kinds of blades and ranged weapons to help her prepare an animal for eating by killing and cleansing it. She can also handle her own around various traps, especially animal traps repurposed to catch a human, and blend in the shadows when following a trail. Despite Noella's obvious lack of magic, she makes up for it in dexterity and her ability to travel rugged land where many others would not follow. Last but not least, Noella has somewhat of a silver tongue, and can make possible attempted assassinations much harder than they could be due to her quick-witted nature.
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Gear Heart stood in the corner of the playroom watching Veronica play with the doll house's residents. For the most part, he was in an inactive state. But from time to time, a quiet 'ding' from within his structure would bring him to life for a while. During these moments of activity, Gear Heart would relocate to another corner of the room. Gear Heart's eyes rarely left Veronica though. The golem kept his eyes locked firmly on the little girl whose protection was the soul purpose of his existence. He looked on passively at the dollhouse drama Veronica was making with Noella. Then a 'ding' that was louder than the rest echoed throughout the playroom. Gear Heart moved closer to where Veronica and Noella were playing. What he was doing was anyone's guess. It it were his 6th sense going off, the 'dings' would have been preceded by ticking and if it served some other purpose, nobody could tell what that purpose was.
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Name: Gear Heart Mark 4
Appearance
Age: 10
Gender: None (But referred to in male terms.)
Race: Iron Golem
Skills: Amazing Strength: What can he lift? An easier question would be what can't he lift.
Incredible Durability: It'll take some serious effort to put him down.
Lacks Human Needs: Gear Heart needs no sleep, sustenance, or air.
Music Box: When the gears exposed by the heart shaped hole in the golem's chest start turning, a built in music box begins playing a beautiful song.
Rapid Plant Growth: Gear Heart has the ability to quickly grow various plant on his body. Though there seems to be no plant Gear Heart can't grow, he usually only grows poppies, vines, and dandelions.
6th Sense: Gear Heart always innately knows Veronica's current location and if she's in danger.
History: Ever since their 1st appearance, golems have been universally considered a modern marvel. But none have been more so acclaimed than the Gear Heart models. Created by an eccentric gnome inventor through top secret methods, the Gear Hearts are as sought after and beneficial to their owners as they are rare. And with each version, Gear Hearts become even more sought after, even more of an asset, and even harder to find.
So this begs the question. How did a minor noble like Baron Asmothe get his hands on such a golem? Honest payment? Dishonest villainy? Neither. The answer is much more simple and like the eccentric gnome who made the golems in the 1st place, rather strange. On the day of Veronica's 1st birthday, she was stolen from her crib by 1 of the servants. The servant would have escaped unnoticed had it not been for a large box blocking the front door. After the servant was caught, the box was opened. Inside was a freshly made Gear Heart Mark 4. It was the 1st of its kind and the most advanced model at the time. Along with it came a note from the inventor wishing the baron luck with his cursed daughter. How the gnome knew of the curse or why he gave away a highly expensive golem free of charge is anyone's guess. But even so, Gear Heart has been around ever since and rarely leaves Veronica's side.
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Lucky was out in the barn, he'd set up a practice dummy holding his knife he'd spent the past year training himself how to fight fight one. Though he'd hoped to be an archer once, he would never match Noella who seemed to only become better by the day. Instead he'd focused on blade work, and throwing knives he had gotten good at burying a blade in his target or using a dagger to block blows. Lucky put the blade away on his belt, the thirteen year old boy then walked over to the bucket of water he sat aside and splashed himself with the water.
Cleaning himself up Lucky put the blade away hiding it within the violin case, he stretched again. A little sore from his workout, but proud none the less of his growing skill. He fixed his hair and pulled on a shirt whistling as he started up to Veronica. He usually waited for the girl to come see him, but as he'd been busy lately breaking a new pony he had missed her the past couple of visits. So walking up to her room he knocked at the door, tilting back and forth on his feet still whistling he only stopped to tell her who it was. "It's Lucky."
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Name: Skyler 'Lucky' Knox
Age: 12
Gender: Male
Race: Half-Elf
Skills: Skilled archer, kleptomaniac, mage, and time manipulator.
History: Skyler was born to an Elven mage mother and human bard father, this unusual union sired the boy. Born under the sign of thief, giving him a rather greedy mindset and quick fingers. Raised a small Elven city city state among Viscarian Confederation with many other half breed children. As he grew his father taught him to play the violin, giving him a love of music that never faded.
As the years went by and under his mothers tutelage, Skyler learned to control his special brand of magic, time manipulation. At first he could only alter time around himself slowing himself or speeding up. However he eventually learned to stop objects within two meters of himself. His powers are very particular, while he can pause objects like thrown fruit or knives in the air he must maintain the spell or they begin moving again.
He cannot stop a living creature like a bird or a person, he can affect his own body however allowing him to move quicker for roughly ten seconds or pause to think of a quick plan. He also has a size limit, the larger the object the shorter time he can hold it. The largest object he has stopped to is three closely fired arrows which he turned in the air within two seconds of stopping them. With his mothers death it is unlikely he will ever have another proper teacher though he still has her books to learn from.
During his time traveling with Rosa, he's kleptomaniac tendencies came into full swing. Where the two minstrels went coins and other shiny objects vanished. His aunt decided to put the boys Elven heritage to use. Giving him a bow she taught him how to string a bow, nock an arrow, and fire it. With practice he became quite the keen shooter able to hit targets at impressive distance for his age.
Recently he and his aunt stopped in Farlande Kingdom the two entertains performed in a local tavern. When a drunken crowd discovered their lightened pockets, they turned on the travelers. Rosa had worked with the local thieves guild to swipe the money, abandoning her nephew to the mercy of the crowd she escape on horse back. Alone and with most of the villages trust gone Skyler sold his horse and went to hunt for a job nearby.
His traveling experience gave him a good understanding horses and caring for them. As such he took a job as Baron Asmothe's stable boy. While few would want a Baron's daughter to associate with a low born, many hope his uncanny 'luck' will rub off on the Baron's daughter. Failing that he can help prevent accidents, with his unique abilities.
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The year had flown by for Lance. Perhaps it was his age? They do say time flies when you're older. Nevertheless, Lance tirelessly worked as Veronica's protector. The days went by, and in his spare time, Lance continued to work on his swordsmanship, (or rather, lancemanship) and potion making. At first the whole concept was foreign to him. However he quickly learned that is was simply a process of remembering combonations. Some, were of course fairly easy, like Antivenom. While others, like healing potions were much mor complicated. On the upside, however, he has managed to increase his understanding of identification. With a much bigger variety now learned, he hoped this would help to protect Veronica in some way. He had gotten attached to the child.
Lance also began to notice something odd. Lance kept his weapons in a very particular order, not to mention sheathed and buckled. Sword, Shield, Lance, and then a collection of other miscellaneous weapons. One of which was a case of knives. Serrated, like the one he gave Lucky. It also held smaller daggers, used for throwing. Over the past few months Lance noticed that they had been tampered with. Some went missing, while others were turned around, facing a different direction than what they were originally. Lance worried for Veronica's safety. Had some assassin taken them? Or used them in some plot?
Lance kept a much closer eye on Veronica for the time he was around. Lance eventually went to see some of the others. He had gotten bored and decided to socialize. Lucky seemed like a good start. Heading to the stables, he was nowhere to be found. How odd. Where else could he be? The barn seemed like the next best choice. Upon getting closer, Lance's elven ears perked up as he heard grunting and the sound of something slashing against wood. Peeking through a crack in the wall, Lance saw Lucky slashing against... something. Lucky then pulled out throwing knife, and threw it at, presumably, a target. Then he got another. Lance quickly recognized the knives as his own. While he would like them back, he decided that Lucky would make better use of them for now. Even if he told Lucky to return them, he'd likely take them while Lance wasn't around. Lance Walked back to the castle. "Keep trainin' kid. One day, the world's gonna need ya."
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Full name: Lance D'Phiarlin
Usually wearing a tunic, Lance blends into the crowd, but when it's time for battle, Lance wears scalemail covered by a central breastplate. His weapon of choice ironically enough is a lance, yet he is trained with most other weapons.
Age: 34
Gender: Male
Race: Elf
Skills: Lance is a master Tactician and fighter. Keenly aware of his surroundings he is able to get an advantage almost anywhere on the battlefield. Not only this, but he is incredibly social, and is able to make friends very easily, because of this he has many connections.
History: Lance comes from the country of Ebberon, located to the far west. Born to a pair of army generals, Lance had little choice but to be raised as a soldier. He had an iron will and a strong arm at an early age, and only continued to improve, even to the point of surpassing his parents. When Ebberon went to war with a neighboring country, Kyber. Lance was chosen as an ambassador, and was able to easily convince the king to stop fighting. Unfortunately, shortly after, the king was assassinated and Kyber went to war with Ebberon. Lance was chosen to be one of five leaders in charge of the main bulk of Ebberon's army. Here is where Lance found his innate knack for tactics, defeating Skrimish after skrimish, they had easily captured the main city of Kyber.
Once the county was no longer at war, Lance was at a bit of a loss as to what to do. Planning was his specialty, yet he had no plan of action. Lance wandered around his hometown, doing whatever he could to help. He liked helping others, it gave the same sense of being useful as when he was a General. Shortly after, he decided that while his home was all well and good, he wanted to know what else he could do, and set out. Going from Country To Country, Lance was able to always make a few friends, and was always in a joyous state. Taking odd jobs here and there, Lance has a bit if experience with everything. Thus he arrived here, looking for what there is to see, and hoping to make some friends.
Lance had wandered from place to place helping people where he could. And yet he always felt... temporary. It was as if as soon as he was done with whatever task he was assigned, he was sent away, like he had outlived his usefulness. He wanted something more... Permanent? A career of sorts. But what? Most jobs weren't in his area of expertise. He was a natural born fighter and defender, what could he possibly do? Just as he was about to lose hope, he got word of a Baron looking for a guard of sorts to protect his daughter. This was his chance! Lance took the job in a heartbeat, knowing he'd finally be of significant use again.
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As Noella put her doll closer to the drama unfolding, Veronica made the bunny couple pause to consider the request. "Welllll," Mrs. Bunny considered for a while then turned to her husband, "what do you think dear?"
Mr Bunny nodded his head in throught then turned to Noella's doll. "Only if you can ultra-super-promise me that you'll keep Danny out of trouble!"
Danny rolled his eyes, figuratively, and groaned, "Oh come on I've come back safe and sound all the other times!"
"Hush child," Mrs. Bunny scolded while they waited for Noella's response. While that was happening though, Lucky peeked in the door and proclaimed his presense, momentarily disrupting the doll drama.
"Hey Lucky! You can be the bad guys trying to take advantage of Danny!" Veronica excited pointed to the dolls that were not being used at the moment.
Thankfully for Lucky he would not have to join in as the Baron entered the room from behind him. "Good morning everyone, I have something of great importance to tell everyone." As he passed Lucky, he gave the lad a friendly pat on the shoulder and sat down on a chair in the room. "The time has finally come for my daughter to go to town and be formally introduced to some friends of mine."
This was quite the revelation as the Baron had been literally avoiding such a thing, for years to keep Veronica as safe as possible. There was little secret that traveling around, especially to a much heavier populated area would increase the amount of dangers that Veronica would face; however the baron had an obligation to interact with other families of influence along with his daughter. She was already eleven and it was way past time he should have done this in the first place.
Veronica dropped her dolls, in amazement. "Dad, do you mean, I can finally go to town and look around!" Veronica's eyes sparkled in anticipation at the upcoming adventure. Full of excitement, she started to spin around, her frilly clothes twirling around her, making her a small hurricane. "I'll get to go to the candy store, and the toy store, and the bakery, and see other people!" The list kept growing along with her excitement and rapid spinning.
The baron smiled, grimly, and added, "Thankfully I have also learned that the Great Sage is in town so we will be paying him a visit as well. Maybe he will have some good news for my daughter." It was not very often the Great Sage, who was looking for a way to remove the curse, was in the area so it was certainly something to look forward to.
Veronica had a hard time staying in one place as she spun, stepped on one of her dolls, lost her footing, and started to fall toward her playhouse.
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Name: Veronica Asmothe
Appearance: Veronica
Age: 11
Gender: Female
Race: Human
Skills: Being cursed, getting into trouble, being cute, and daddy's money.
History:
Veronica has been cursed with a cruel fate. As if exposed to Murphy's law, potentially life threatening events keep happening to her. After being told that she was cursed, her Father very quickly started to hire the best protectors he could hire: Food testers, guards, tutors, apothecaries, even mechanics in order to find better ways to protect his daughter from the dangers that always follow her.
She has managed to survive so far though she does tend to get hurt a lot from so many close calls. She has stayed mostly at home for now while her family tries to figure out the best way to protect her. She does leave home occasionally and the older she gets, the more she will have to go out into the world despite her curse.
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This would have been the case had the playhouse still been there. However while everyone else was talking, Gear Heart had begun staring at the play house. And though it was too quiet for anyone to hear, the golem was ticking. After a few moments and an even quieter ding, Gear Heard began moving again. As he passed the playhouse, the golem picked it up and carried it with him to the other side of the room before setting it down just as Veronica. Tripped on the doll and tumbled down onto the soft carpet. Gear Heart then walked back over to Veronica and offered her both a hand up and a poppy.
What Gear Heart had just done was highly unusual for him. Usually, he could only tell where Veronica was and if she was in danger. This time was different though. This time, Gear Heart had also known what the danger was before it became obvious and reacted accordingly. That had never happened before.
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Name: Gear Heart Mark 4
Appearance
Age: 10
Gender: None (But referred to in male terms.)
Race: Iron Golem
Skills: Amazing Strength: What can he lift? An easier question would be what can't he lift.
Incredible Durability: It'll take some serious effort to put him down.
Lacks Human Needs: Gear Heart needs no sleep, sustenance, or air.
Music Box: When the gears exposed by the heart shaped hole in the golem's chest start turning, a built in music box begins playing a beautiful song.
Rapid Plant Growth: Gear Heart has the ability to quickly grow various plant on his body. Though there seems to be no plant Gear Heart can't grow, he usually only grows poppies, vines, and dandelions.
6th Sense: Gear Heart always innately knows Veronica's current location and if she's in danger.
History: Ever since their 1st appearance, golems have been universally considered a modern marvel. But none have been more so acclaimed than the Gear Heart models. Created by an eccentric gnome inventor through top secret methods, the Gear Hearts are as sought after and beneficial to their owners as they are rare. And with each version, Gear Hearts become even more sought after, even more of an asset, and even harder to find.
So this begs the question. How did a minor noble like Baron Asmothe get his hands on such a golem? Honest payment? Dishonest villainy? Neither. The answer is much more simple and like the eccentric gnome who made the golems in the 1st place, rather strange. On the day of Veronica's 1st birthday, she was stolen from her crib by 1 of the servants. The servant would have escaped unnoticed had it not been for a large box blocking the front door. After the servant was caught, the box was opened. Inside was a freshly made Gear Heart Mark 4. It was the 1st of its kind and the most advanced model at the time. Along with it came a note from the inventor wishing the baron luck with his cursed daughter. How the gnome knew of the curse or why he gave away a highly expensive golem free of charge is anyone's guess. But even so, Gear Heart has been around ever since and rarely leaves Veronica's side.
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Noella Le Sciellou
Current Location: The Asmothe Estate (Veronica's Playhouse)
Noella opened her mouth to reply to Mrs. Bunny, yet she was interrupted by Veronica's excitement as the girl wanted Lucky to play dolls with them. For herself, playing dolls wasn't a big deal, but the huntress always thought it was cute that Veronica would ask Lucky whenever the elf showed his face. Their interaction seemed to be the sprouts of young love, or perhaps Noella had been too influenced by the books she had picked up over the years. Noella hadn't forgot her goal of finding who her father was, but over the past year she had begun to hear rumors circulate whenever she went to town. Sensing she carried herself too much like a peasant, Noella began to read about noble etiquette if the rumors proved themselves true. However, the huntress didn't expect herself to be swayed by the stories of knights serenading their love outside a young maiden's window.
Shortly after Lucky had announced his arrival, the Baron entered the room with important news. He thought that Veronica was old enough to go with him to the nearby town that the servants often frequented for the Baron. Noella took a glimpse at Veronica, and smiled as she jumped up in joy and twirled in her frilly dress due to the fact that she would finally see what she could not. However, behind that smile laid a gut feeling that something would happen or go wrong if the Baron brought his daughter to town, but to keep from ruining the mood, Noella kept her mouth shut. "Now, now, Veronica. You don't want to visit the entire town in one day! You'll lose the chance for new experiences the next time you visit." Of course, the feeling didn't stop Noella from offering advice to the young girl that she was paid to watch like a hawk in order to ensure Veronica stays alive.
The next few moments were fuzzy, as if something had flew over their head and they were lost in confusion over what had happened. The Baron had said something about the Sage he frequented to find out information about Veronica's curse, but Noella wasn't paying attention. The huntress' legs had leaped forward as her eyes spotted Veronica fall, and Noella fell to the ground on her knees as she caught Veronica. "I guess you were right, mom. Those boys were bad influences for Danny!" Noella replied in the voice she used before when they were playing dolls. The huntress then mumbled a small thank you, perhaps to the Baron, or perhaps to the soft carpet, but whatever the case, it was too quiet to be heard. If the floor was any harder, Noella's knees would've probably been toast from the sudden impact in order to keep Veronica from harm.
Gear Heart had approached the two, and went to help Veronica up. Noella looked at where the playhouse should've been, and its sudden disappearance caused her to blink. She knew it was right there, but a quick look around the playroom had shown that Gear Heart had already moved it out of the way to keep Veronica from falling onto the dollhouse. "Thank you, Gear Heart. If I wasn't as quick as I am, Veronica might've hurt herself on her dollhouse." Noella stated, taking a second to stand up and brush off her knees with a smile towards the golem.
, , ,
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Name: Noella Le Sciellou
Age: 17
Gender: Female
Race: Human
Theme
Background
Born to a peasant mother and a Farlande noble, Noella Le Sciellou is truly an unwanted rat. Her father wanted nothing to do with the illegitimate child that he had thrust onto Noella's mother, and because of her father's refusal to take responsibility, she has no idea of who her father is. At first, a low-born life was harsh for a young Noella, and her mother was sure that her daughter wouldn't make it through the cold winters. A peasant village had little to protect a child from a possible fever or cold nor the money to pay for a medical remedy, but Noella eventually prevailed through her childhood healthy as she could be.
By her teenage years, Noella was an experienced hunter. Making ends meet was tough, and because fur and meat were such sought after commodities, Noella had noticed she had a knack for hunting as she tried to alleviate her mother's financial problems. This knack eventually became known in the nearby villages, and Noella's fame had led to a wandering business selling prime cuts of meat and animal furs. One day, the baron had sent a rider to the villages in search of someone that could aid his daughter's plight. The rider had stumbled onto Noella, and he was impressed with her forte in meat and combat. After a background review by the Baron, Noella was soon offered a contract to help protect his daughter and sometimes help with meals. Taking the job mainly because of the high pay, Noella also took it to find out who her father is. Her father was always a mystery to Noella, and she believes that the Baron could help her locate him with the resources a nobleman would have.
Skills
First and foremost, Noella is a skilled huntress. Spending most of her time in the wilderness to support her mother, Noella is knowledgeable in different kinds of blades and ranged weapons to help her prepare an animal for eating by killing and cleansing it. She can also handle her own around various traps, especially animal traps repurposed to catch a human, and blend in the shadows when following a trail. Despite Noella's obvious lack of magic, she makes up for it in dexterity and her ability to travel rugged land where many others would not follow. Last but not least, Noella has somewhat of a silver tongue, and can make possible attempted assassinations much harder than they could be due to her quick-witted nature.
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Lucky paused looking at the baron before adding his opinion into the mix as he told them they would be going to town. "Hmmm good chance for me to look for any new books on time manipulation... Also to see the blacksmith about getting me something better than a knife." Of course he didn't speak of where he'd gotten the money for these endeavors or if indeed he had the money or played to gain it another way.
Lucky had a wonderful talent for objects vanishing yet he always had a solid alibi, of course he could have been manipulating time but who would be so petty as to gift of magic for simple burglary. "Of course I still don't approve of that monstrous metal box. Nothing is as reliable as a good horse, no matter who built it. Speaking of my work, I finish training that pony. Maybe I can give Veronica a riding lesson when we get back, after all it's not like the little thing is big enough to hurt her." He added remembering the smaller equine had been a little stubborn but hadn't even bucked.
"Of course that is just my opinion sir. You do set the rules around here." He added quickly making sure he didn't seem to forceful or grateful. The man had given work to someone the town had considered a swindler and liar, even if he was just a child he owed the baron much.
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Name: Skyler 'Lucky' Knox
Age: 12
Gender: Male
Race: Half-Elf
Skills: Skilled archer, kleptomaniac, mage, and time manipulator.
History: Skyler was born to an Elven mage mother and human bard father, this unusual union sired the boy. Born under the sign of thief, giving him a rather greedy mindset and quick fingers. Raised a small Elven city city state among Viscarian Confederation with many other half breed children. As he grew his father taught him to play the violin, giving him a love of music that never faded.
As the years went by and under his mothers tutelage, Skyler learned to control his special brand of magic, time manipulation. At first he could only alter time around himself slowing himself or speeding up. However he eventually learned to stop objects within two meters of himself. His powers are very particular, while he can pause objects like thrown fruit or knives in the air he must maintain the spell or they begin moving again.
He cannot stop a living creature like a bird or a person, he can affect his own body however allowing him to move quicker for roughly ten seconds or pause to think of a quick plan. He also has a size limit, the larger the object the shorter time he can hold it. The largest object he has stopped to is three closely fired arrows which he turned in the air within two seconds of stopping them. With his mothers death it is unlikely he will ever have another proper teacher though he still has her books to learn from.
During his time traveling with Rosa, he's kleptomaniac tendencies came into full swing. Where the two minstrels went coins and other shiny objects vanished. His aunt decided to put the boys Elven heritage to use. Giving him a bow she taught him how to string a bow, nock an arrow, and fire it. With practice he became quite the keen shooter able to hit targets at impressive distance for his age.
Recently he and his aunt stopped in Farlande Kingdom the two entertains performed in a local tavern. When a drunken crowd discovered their lightened pockets, they turned on the travelers. Rosa had worked with the local thieves guild to swipe the money, abandoning her nephew to the mercy of the crowd she escape on horse back. Alone and with most of the villages trust gone Skyler sold his horse and went to hunt for a job nearby.
His traveling experience gave him a good understanding horses and caring for them. As such he took a job as Baron Asmothe's stable boy. While few would want a Baron's daughter to associate with a low born, many hope his uncanny 'luck' will rub off on the Baron's daughter. Failing that he can help prevent accidents, with his unique abilities.
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Thankfully everything was well as Gear Heart managed to prevent any real damage from happening while Noella also helped Veronica from being hurt. As things were as usual the baron smiled at bit at the quickness of his staff. "Well everyone, it is up to you to prepare for the trip. At the same time we will be taking the new horseless carriage out for a spin; however, we will also be taking along the normal coach as well. As I trust in everyone's abilities Veronica will be staying in the horse-drawn carriage for the trip to town, while a few of you will be testing out our new transportation and lead the way. If what I have been told is true, the Gear-carriage can travel at much faster speeds and transport heavy things much easier, but of course it will stay close by at all times."
The baron gave out his instructions and Veronica thanked Noella for catching her and Gear Heart for his usual protection. Lucky's offer to let her ride one of the newest ponies when they got back was also exciting, but priorities lied with the trip. "I'll go pack some stuff for the trip. Fare thee-well for about, 30 minutes!" Veronica laughed, gave a curtsy to the room, then skipped away to her room while one of the servants went to get a suitcase and make sure they were there for the packing so nothing strange happened.
The baron chuckled at bit at her antics but when she was gone turned serious. "Well it is time you all earn your keep. Let's minimize any potential dangers as much as possible." The baron got up from his chair and with a gesture commanded everyone to prepare.
Soon enough everyone had filed out into the driveway while the servants finished the final preparations on the two vehicles, making sure everything was just so. How it was set up was the baron and his family would be in the horse-drawn carriage along with one of the families best maids, Janett. A driver and Lucky would be outside the carriage, ready to calm the horses if the need ever arrived. Lance, Noelle and a few other servants were in the 'gearbox' where they could quickly respond to anything that might happen, and test drive the new vehicle.
The thing of interest was what exactly to do with Gear Heart. A golem was easy enough to use around the house by taking him on a trip was a bit of a different matter. While it was possible for the golem to just walk beside them such a journey, short though it was, could be bad for his gears if they went at any decent speed. The golem would not fit in any of the carriages and it's weight was a problem anyway. While they had pondered what to do, James got an idea to rig a heavy wagon to the back of the horse-less carriage that Gear Heart could sit in.
This first trip would be quite the test for the new machine.
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Name: Veronica Asmothe
Appearance: Veronica
Age: 11
Gender: Female
Race: Human
Skills: Being cursed, getting into trouble, being cute, and daddy's money.
History:
Veronica has been cursed with a cruel fate. As if exposed to Murphy's law, potentially life threatening events keep happening to her. After being told that she was cursed, her Father very quickly started to hire the best protectors he could hire: Food testers, guards, tutors, apothecaries, even mechanics in order to find better ways to protect his daughter from the dangers that always follow her.
She has managed to survive so far though she does tend to get hurt a lot from so many close calls. She has stayed mostly at home for now while her family tries to figure out the best way to protect her. She does leave home occasionally and the older she gets, the more she will have to go out into the world despite her curse.
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Lance sat in the horseless carriage. It wasn't the first time he'd seen one of these, but it was the first time he'd ever been inside of one. The inside was a little claustrophobic. Mainly because he was so tall. He had to sit in a bit of a slouch to not hit his head on the roof. While the trip to the city was short, Lance decided to bring a book with him. This one however, was no Botany book. It was rather small, and paperbacked. The title read: "Choose your own adventure! Dungeons and Dragons: Fall of Wintersrock." It was a one of the few choose your own adventure books in the library he hadn't read. Lance also of course had his pack full of boring traveling stuff. He always had it with him. Just in case. He also remembered to bring a regeneration potion, as well as some Antivenom. There was a poisonous plant around this area, but with any luck, nobody would be rolling around in random plants. Lastly, he brought his sword and board, tried and true, and easy to carry. He also had the hidden knife in his boot, which he had almost forgotten about. He patiently waited for the others to get in. This was going to be fun. He could feel it.
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Full name: Lance D'Phiarlin
Usually wearing a tunic, Lance blends into the crowd, but when it's time for battle, Lance wears scalemail covered by a central breastplate. His weapon of choice ironically enough is a lance, yet he is trained with most other weapons.
Age: 34
Gender: Male
Race: Elf
Skills: Lance is a master Tactician and fighter. Keenly aware of his surroundings he is able to get an advantage almost anywhere on the battlefield. Not only this, but he is incredibly social, and is able to make friends very easily, because of this he has many connections.
History: Lance comes from the country of Ebberon, located to the far west. Born to a pair of army generals, Lance had little choice but to be raised as a soldier. He had an iron will and a strong arm at an early age, and only continued to improve, even to the point of surpassing his parents. When Ebberon went to war with a neighboring country, Kyber. Lance was chosen as an ambassador, and was able to easily convince the king to stop fighting. Unfortunately, shortly after, the king was assassinated and Kyber went to war with Ebberon. Lance was chosen to be one of five leaders in charge of the main bulk of Ebberon's army. Here is where Lance found his innate knack for tactics, defeating Skrimish after skrimish, they had easily captured the main city of Kyber.
Once the county was no longer at war, Lance was at a bit of a loss as to what to do. Planning was his specialty, yet he had no plan of action. Lance wandered around his hometown, doing whatever he could to help. He liked helping others, it gave the same sense of being useful as when he was a General. Shortly after, he decided that while his home was all well and good, he wanted to know what else he could do, and set out. Going from Country To Country, Lance was able to always make a few friends, and was always in a joyous state. Taking odd jobs here and there, Lance has a bit if experience with everything. Thus he arrived here, looking for what there is to see, and hoping to make some friends.
Lance had wandered from place to place helping people where he could. And yet he always felt... temporary. It was as if as soon as he was done with whatever task he was assigned, he was sent away, like he had outlived his usefulness. He wanted something more... Permanent? A career of sorts. But what? Most jobs weren't in his area of expertise. He was a natural born fighter and defender, what could he possibly do? Just as he was about to lose hope, he got word of a Baron looking for a guard of sorts to protect his daughter. This was his chance! Lance took the job in a heartbeat, knowing he'd finally be of significant use again.
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Gear Heart looked on as the staff fussed over arrangements for the golem's transportation. He looked at the ordinary carriage to see Veronica an her family climbing in. He then looked at the horseless carriage and began ticking quietly for a few seconds. Just as he stopped ticking, a large wagon was wheeled into view. Gear Heart watched as wagon was hitched to the gearbox and opened for the golem to climb into. The wagon creaked under Gear Heart's weight. There was worry among the servants that it would break. But thankfully it didn't.
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Name: Gear Heart Mark 4
Appearance
Age: 10
Gender: None (But referred to in male terms.)
Race: Iron Golem
Skills: Amazing Strength: What can he lift? An easier question would be what can't he lift.
Incredible Durability: It'll take some serious effort to put him down.
Lacks Human Needs: Gear Heart needs no sleep, sustenance, or air.
Music Box: When the gears exposed by the heart shaped hole in the golem's chest start turning, a built in music box begins playing a beautiful song.
Rapid Plant Growth: Gear Heart has the ability to quickly grow various plant on his body. Though there seems to be no plant Gear Heart can't grow, he usually only grows poppies, vines, and dandelions.
6th Sense: Gear Heart always innately knows Veronica's current location and if she's in danger.
History: Ever since their 1st appearance, golems have been universally considered a modern marvel. But none have been more so acclaimed than the Gear Heart models. Created by an eccentric gnome inventor through top secret methods, the Gear Hearts are as sought after and beneficial to their owners as they are rare. And with each version, Gear Hearts become even more sought after, even more of an asset, and even harder to find.
So this begs the question. How did a minor noble like Baron Asmothe get his hands on such a golem? Honest payment? Dishonest villainy? Neither. The answer is much more simple and like the eccentric gnome who made the golems in the 1st place, rather strange. On the day of Veronica's 1st birthday, she was stolen from her crib by 1 of the servants. The servant would have escaped unnoticed had it not been for a large box blocking the front door. After the servant was caught, the box was opened. Inside was a freshly made Gear Heart Mark 4. It was the 1st of its kind and the most advanced model at the time. Along with it came a note from the inventor wishing the baron luck with his cursed daughter. How the gnome knew of the curse or why he gave away a highly expensive golem free of charge is anyone's guess. But even so, Gear Heart has been around ever since and rarely leaves Veronica's side.
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Noella Le Sciellou
Current Location: The Asmothe Estate (Veronica's Playhouse -> Horseless Carriage)
Along with Lance and a few other servants, Noella was slated to travel in the horseless carriage. Like Lance, Noella brought her weapons to protect Veronica, although the edges were dulled as always. Veronica might've known to stay away from a massive sword such as the one Lance had carried, but Noella preferred shorter blades than her companion. Daggers and arrow tips could be easily hidden, and Veronica could just as well prick or cut herself on the blade if it was sharpened. Along with her weapons Noella had also brought a few items gathered from the woods that she had crafted in case the carriages would be assaulted on the road by highwaymen or bandits. Whereas Lance or Gear Heart were more suited to protect Veronica in a city, if the Baron's daughter had managed to get lost in a forest Noella would surely be her best bet at a survival. Of course, the real challenge would be to get Veronica to use the tools that Noella had brought. Not everyone, especially nobles, wanted to wallow around in the mud and dirt while having to survive in the woods covered in the smell of animal waste.
When Noella had set out to the carriages, she was dumbfounded. It wasn't because she had problems with the Baron's decision to put her in the horseless carriage, rather, it was because a country girl like her was lost with all the technology. Having lived in the woods and a poor peasant village for most of her life, Noella had only begun to be introduced to the wonders of the world when she had joined the Baron's service. The mere sight of the carriage befuddled her mind as Noella tried to think how in the world the carriage would move without horses. Eventually, she began to get dizzy from thinking too hard, but Noella wasn't about to let the Baron see her in a midst of confusion. Taking a big gulp of air, Noella sighed, slapping her cheeks before climbing into the carriage. Lance had easily entered the carriage, and she couldn't let him show her up.
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Name: Noella Le Sciellou
Age: 17
Gender: Female
Race: Human
Theme
Background
Born to a peasant mother and a Farlande noble, Noella Le Sciellou is truly an unwanted rat. Her father wanted nothing to do with the illegitimate child that he had thrust onto Noella's mother, and because of her father's refusal to take responsibility, she has no idea of who her father is. At first, a low-born life was harsh for a young Noella, and her mother was sure that her daughter wouldn't make it through the cold winters. A peasant village had little to protect a child from a possible fever or cold nor the money to pay for a medical remedy, but Noella eventually prevailed through her childhood healthy as she could be.
By her teenage years, Noella was an experienced hunter. Making ends meet was tough, and because fur and meat were such sought after commodities, Noella had noticed she had a knack for hunting as she tried to alleviate her mother's financial problems. This knack eventually became known in the nearby villages, and Noella's fame had led to a wandering business selling prime cuts of meat and animal furs. One day, the baron had sent a rider to the villages in search of someone that could aid his daughter's plight. The rider had stumbled onto Noella, and he was impressed with her forte in meat and combat. After a background review by the Baron, Noella was soon offered a contract to help protect his daughter and sometimes help with meals. Taking the job mainly because of the high pay, Noella also took it to find out who her father is. Her father was always a mystery to Noella, and she believes that the Baron could help her locate him with the resources a nobleman would have.
Skills
First and foremost, Noella is a skilled huntress. Spending most of her time in the wilderness to support her mother, Noella is knowledgeable in different kinds of blades and ranged weapons to help her prepare an animal for eating by killing and cleansing it. She can also handle her own around various traps, especially animal traps repurposed to catch a human, and blend in the shadows when following a trail. Despite Noella's obvious lack of magic, she makes up for it in dexterity and her ability to travel rugged land where many others would not follow. Last but not least, Noella has somewhat of a silver tongue, and can make possible attempted assassinations much harder than they could be due to her quick-witted nature.
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Lucky left to quickly to prepare himself, retrieving the blade and placing it inside his jacket he moved out hitching horse's up to the usual carriage. Picking the best team from the well rest beasts of burden, he check them over and fitted blinders to keep them on track. After that he swept out the carriage interior, and brought apples out feeding each of horses a treat before they left for town.
With that complete he also returned to his small room and grabbed his wallet from under his bed. Eager to do a little shopping in town, he of course would also have to keep an eye on Veronica's somewhat. Yet he also had his own desires. He thought to grab his violin, perhaps play in the tavern for awhile then shook his head he wasn't a bard any more. He was a stable hand and he didn't have time to play music for any dandy that waltz into a bar looking to get drunk.
Cleaned up and ready to the red eyed boy climbed up to sit by the driver, knowing they would set off soon.
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Name: Skyler 'Lucky' Knox
Age: 12
Gender: Male
Race: Half-Elf
Skills: Skilled archer, kleptomaniac, mage, and time manipulator.
History: Skyler was born to an Elven mage mother and human bard father, this unusual union sired the boy. Born under the sign of thief, giving him a rather greedy mindset and quick fingers. Raised a small Elven city city state among Viscarian Confederation with many other half breed children. As he grew his father taught him to play the violin, giving him a love of music that never faded.
As the years went by and under his mothers tutelage, Skyler learned to control his special brand of magic, time manipulation. At first he could only alter time around himself slowing himself or speeding up. However he eventually learned to stop objects within two meters of himself. His powers are very particular, while he can pause objects like thrown fruit or knives in the air he must maintain the spell or they begin moving again.
He cannot stop a living creature like a bird or a person, he can affect his own body however allowing him to move quicker for roughly ten seconds or pause to think of a quick plan. He also has a size limit, the larger the object the shorter time he can hold it. The largest object he has stopped to is three closely fired arrows which he turned in the air within two seconds of stopping them. With his mothers death it is unlikely he will ever have another proper teacher though he still has her books to learn from.
During his time traveling with Rosa, he's kleptomaniac tendencies came into full swing. Where the two minstrels went coins and other shiny objects vanished. His aunt decided to put the boys Elven heritage to use. Giving him a bow she taught him how to string a bow, nock an arrow, and fire it. With practice he became quite the keen shooter able to hit targets at impressive distance for his age.
Recently he and his aunt stopped in Farlande Kingdom the two entertains performed in a local tavern. When a drunken crowd discovered their lightened pockets, they turned on the travelers. Rosa had worked with the local thieves guild to swipe the money, abandoning her nephew to the mercy of the crowd she escape on horse back. Alone and with most of the villages trust gone Skyler sold his horse and went to hunt for a job nearby.
His traveling experience gave him a good understanding horses and caring for them. As such he took a job as Baron Asmothe's stable boy. While few would want a Baron's daughter to associate with a low born, many hope his uncanny 'luck' will rub off on the Baron's daughter. Failing that he can help prevent accidents, with his unique abilities.
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After everyone was in position and everything double-checked, the merry band was off on their grand adventure. Soon enough the mansion was but a small speck as the convoy made its way down the road. It was impossible for Veronica to stay still in the carriage as she kept looking from window to window at the country side. The pace was slow so even considering Brighton was only a few miles away it would still take about an hour of travel, partly due to a small stretch of heavily wooded land between their mansion and the large town.
So far the mechanical vehicle was doing just fine though getting used to the sounds the engine made as well as the occasional steam puff would take some time. The horseless carriage was a powerful thing though, as it was having little trouble hauling the Gear Heart Golem. As the two carriages began to enter the wooded area Veronica plopped herself down on her father's lap. "Oh I can't wait till we get there! Will it be much longer?" Veronica tilted her head back to peer up at her father's chin, who just smiled in response.
"You'll just have to wait and see for yourself, good things come to those who are patient." Janett winked at Veronica from the other side of the carriage. "I'm sure you'll get a nice treat if you behave yourself!"
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Name: Veronica Asmothe
Appearance: Veronica
Age: 11
Gender: Female
Race: Human
Skills: Being cursed, getting into trouble, being cute, and daddy's money.
History:
Veronica has been cursed with a cruel fate. As if exposed to Murphy's law, potentially life threatening events keep happening to her. After being told that she was cursed, her Father very quickly started to hire the best protectors he could hire: Food testers, guards, tutors, apothecaries, even mechanics in order to find better ways to protect his daughter from the dangers that always follow her.
She has managed to survive so far though she does tend to get hurt a lot from so many close calls. She has stayed mostly at home for now while her family tries to figure out the best way to protect her. She does leave home occasionally and the older she gets, the more she will have to go out into the world despite her curse.
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Arc 1: Getting to Know Each Other
In a normal suburban neighborhood in the East Coast, there is a not-so-normal, very big and noticeable treehouse. Despite the peculiarity of a large tree that is coming out of a house with various random, large objects protruding out of it, no one ever says a thing about it. This is the new home for our new heroes. This is Sector X.
Today is moving day. Most of the treehouse’s equipment has already been set up, but its rooms are still empty. The house is quiet, but not for long.
Numbah 38
Annabelle Williams looked up with wide-eyes at the wondrous tree house. She lugged her suitcase up the steps and made her way up the tree. She marveled at every little detail. While her sisters were KND operatives, they never let her up their tree house. But now she had her own team. Granted, she wasn’t the team leader, much to her disappointed but she’ll get there someday.
Now that she thought about it, she hadn’t met any of her teammates yet. She hoped they would be nice. Maybe they were already running around the treehouse, claiming their own rooms. She remained in what she assumed was the main room and took a seat. She placed her suitcase flat on the floor in front of her. She could not sit still as her legs shook with excitement and anxiety. She wanted to go around and explore too, but she also wanted to wait for her teammates to arrive. Maybe they would all go exploring together!
"I do hope they will be here soon... I can hardly wait anymore!"
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Full Name:
Annabelle Lauren Williams
Code Name:
Numbah 38
Age:
9
Grade Level:
4th
Personality:
Annabelle is a sweet, loving girl who loves all things cute. She has a wild imagination and is often seen humming a song or doodling. She may or may not have a hoard of cuddly animals she found on the street in her room, because that is the type of girl she is. Despite her spacey personality, she does well in school and is a good student when she is not fighting adults.
When she is angry, you better beware. She holds a grudge and it's not pretty. If you destroy any of her toys, you'd better run. Though it probably won't do you much good as she is pretty good with a toothpaste gun.
Biography:
Annie was born into a normal American family. She has two older sisters who are currently teenagers but were at one point, KND operatives. They were decommissioned naturally, and have no memory of this. Both of her sisters were great KND operatives and Annie always wanted to follow their footsteps. But she was so unlike them. They were both more tomboy-ish and willing to get messy while Annie wasn't too keen on ruining her pretty pink princess dress. Before they were decommissioned, they had recommended Annie and she somehow passed the Arctic Base training, becoming an official KND.
It turns out that while she isn't too willing to get dirty herself, she was a good shot and good at handling most of the 2 x 4 technology. She became a decent, though not great KND operative. She's working hard though and hopes to one day be a Sector Leader.
Position:
Weapons Specialist
Skills:
* Expertise of long-ranged weaponry
* Agility that allows her to keep her distance from the enemy
Weapon of Choice:
S.Q.O.O.S.H.E.R. or T.H.U.M.P.E.R.
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Numbah 41
April Walker was soundly sleep until she hear something a alarming, it was just her alarm clock, no it like it was beeping no it far worse than that, all she hear was singing, she have hear this song every morning of her life and that song was....The Rainbow Monkeys theme song....well it not that horrible she is just tired to listed to that song.
April groan as she hear the song and she turn her alarm off, she got up and look at her calendar she mark the day that says in red marker "MEET MY KND TEAM!!!" April got dress, she pack her things, sneak pass her sisters and her parents, she want to find her bike and dash to the treehouse.
all right April thought if I make turn and left I could se...oh her thought was short as she see the giant treehouse right in front of her neighborhood ...or I can just see where it is.
she finally arrive to her destination, she turn to the back of her map to she what to do next 1. made it to treehouse. 2. go to the to the mainroom April shrug she park her bike and walk to the treehouse with her suitcase.
When she arrive the mainroom she spot a girl there. this girl is wearing a pink outfit ok I guess pinky is part of my team. April walk toward the her and take a seat all right April this is your teammate and you need to say something to not anything awkward "um hey you must be my teammate nice to meet you i'm Numbah 41"
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Full Name: April Walker
Code Name: April fools, Spring
Numbah 41
Age: 10
Grade Level: 5
Personality:
One definition April as Deadpan sarcastic young girl with a Sense of Humor and kind of lazy, some spotted her in a beach chair relaxing on one of the S.C.A.M.P.E.R. or watching her little tv.
But that doesn't she a emotionless person, she care about her teammate even if they can be bossy at times, she can have fun and do crazy things in some missions if she want to and she can get angry and not scare to thrown a punch
Biography:
April grew up in a family with two sisters one who's in the first grade and one with diapers, April was in the KND when she was seven years old when a group teen ninja was about to kidnapped her and brainwash her! until a KND agent came to the rescue and she was taken to arctic academy.
April was train in arctic academy and April wanted to do the Medical Specialists trained, she saw some doctor shows that her mom watch and she thought it was a piece of cake but it was a lot harder then she though.
she was soon transfer to 2x4 technology trained after she fixed a KND cadet robot toy which catch A eye of a KND agent.
After April Graduated she been working on 2x4 technology for her sector and other sectors, building flying vehicles and going on mission with her sector
Position: 2x4 technology officer
Skills:
Knowledge of 2x4 Technology
A fast talker
Sense of Humor
Cooking Skills
Weapon of Choice: Gumgunner
rainbow monkeys
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Numbah 75
Malachi walked down the gray pavement sidewalk of the neighborhood with his hands stuffed in the pockets of his hoodie. He carried a single oversized and stuffed backpack over his shoulder and walked with intense seriousness. The wind blowing his hair back made him look like one of those cool anime dudes from his manga. The boy had mixed anticipation towards meeting the other operatives/teammates. Would he have super cool teammates? Would it be a girlfest? Would he get to fight someone soon? He would stop abruptly as he stared upwards at the unusually large treehouse that stuck out compared to the other modernized houses that surrounded it. "Sweeeeeet." he would utter to himself under his breath still staring at the treehouse, amazed. Malachi has seen many global phenomenons and attractions around the world but the treehouse would still leave him impressed.
As he walked up the steps, his feelings of anticipation would return. I hope I'm not the first one here...I'd look like a total nerd.
Upon entering the treehouse Malachi would marvel at the interior of the headquarters. It almost looked like a real spy headquarters from his comic book, though it is missing a super cool spy, Malachi would have to use himself to fill the role.
In the main room he would see two other girls assuming they were other his teammates. One with long brown hair who seems to be the same age as him and dressed quite...pink...she must be wearing a form of pink camouflage in case she has to explore any pink enemy territories. The other seems to be roughly the same age, maybe a year older, her eyes give off a lazy vibe...must be a trick to make her enemies underestimate her skill. Hmph! Clever. Either way...Girlfest.
It seems the older girl has already introduced her self. "-I'm Numbah 41" Malachi would climb up to a slightly higher platform in hoping to impress the two with his "cool manga guy looking away" pose. "and I'm Numbah 75." Malachi would add.
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Full Name: Malachi Biggins
Code Name: Big
Numbah 75
Age: 9
Grade Level: 4th
Personality:
Malachi's hatred for adults has overall turned him into a fearless individual who sees no problem fighting anyone twice his size...no THREE TIMES HIS SIZE. Some describe him as having a Napoleonic complex because of his bold personality despite his young age and shorter than average height. He is also known for being a big comic book fan (nerd) which in some cases is shown through his unrealistic and cliche goals. Nonetheless, he is quite calm with other kids and shows minimal aggression towards other operatives unless they're acting like real buttwads.
Biography:
Malachi was an only child born into an adventurous family that traveled across the globe dragging their son with them. Though the thought of traveling may sound fun for some, Malachi preferred to stay at home and read comic books. The only plus that came to traveling was the variety of graphic novels a country he stayed in had. All in all it is what sparked his interest in learning to read other languages. His love for comic books evolved so much that he started to mimic the actions and behaviors of his favorite comic book characters.
Having later moved in with his party-all-night uncle because of his parents voyage to the jungles of Brazil, Malachi was finally recognized by the KND. Much of the impressive skills he showed in the academy were primarily moves he had seen in his comic books. Nonetheless, though he lacked knowledge of procedures or strategic planning he still proved to be valuable operative. Malachi hopes to get his own comic book series glorifying his future KND heroic actions someday.
Position: Combat Specialist
Skills:
•Super cool comic books fighting moves he taught himself
•Lack of fear
•Can read a variety of languages
Weapon of Choice:
S.P.L.A.N.K.E.R.
"Rainbow Monkeys?"
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Numbah 16
Juan skated down the street bag over shoulder he wondered if his teammates will be good friends. The wind blew in his face and was making his hair go crazy well more than it already is. He also wondered of command would send them on a mission immediately or wait like a day so they can bond. But then again most teams do bond during their missions. Never mind that Juan could see the giant tree house "Should I take the main entrance or something no one else could take?.. Better question what would be more fun to do?"
He did a ollie which got him in the air, and once in the air he activated rocket boosters and flew up to the tree house's main room. On the way he called out "Incoming!" just in case someone was in his way.
He landed in the room and got to the middle of the room before finally stoping. He got off, picked up his skateboard, and then looked at who was already there which were two girls and a boy doing a cool pose. "Hey, I'm numbuh 16... Oh and cool pose I'd give it a four out of five you just need a cape." Juan glanced around one more time before asking his question. "So is this all of us?"
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Full Name:Juan Mendez
Code Name:
Numbah 16
Age:10
Grade Level:5th Grade
Personality: Juan is pretty mellow ten year old with a smart brain, but he just doesn't show it or puts forth most effort to use it. He stands for his friends which defines his history. Something to point out would be his tendency to sometimes not follows orders given to him which leads to his rebellious side which comes with most kids of his stature. He is also friendly, a little bit funny, and a great person to rant to about problems.
Biography: ((Will reveal later))
Position:Recon
Skills:
Skating: For his age Juan is a natural at skating and can easily do a wide variety of tricks with his skateboard.
Tough Let's just say he could probably beat numbuh 4 in a fight.
sneaky Well he has to be sneaky if he is a recon.
Weapon of Choice:
S.K.A.T.E.B.O.A.R.D
(Super Kool Action Transportation Extraordinarily Brings Obtains Attachments Radical Dude)
(It's a skateboard with multiple gadgets built in like, rocket booster on the back, interchangeable wheels for different terrain, and ect.)
Rainbow Monkeys
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Codey sat on a couch in a room somewhere off in the middle of the Tree House. He flipped through the pages of a comic book Groggy the Barbarian as he grumbled to himself about his new assignment. Team Leader of the sector...what a poor case of judgement from those jerk faces up in high command. He was one of the people who was a traveling operative which meant he may need to go and move with his parents somewhere else one day. It would leave the group without a leader but there would be time to make sure that his new crew would be able to interact and pick a leader of their own if it came to that. He looked up on his flip phone waiting to see if he got anymore updates from the local dispatchers from KND High Command. A good mission should do him some good. "I swear they couldn't have picked a more lazy place to assign me. This town had no exciting stuff going on. At least when I was at Sector WB there was that guy...what was his name? The Toyminator? That guy at least put up a good fight. Fought with an army of kid-crushing toy robots. At least the furniture's comfortable and these plenty of candy stores." Codey said to himself as he cracked his knuckles. He could play Crazy Birdz on his phone but he didn't feel up to it. He should go and meet his team...but he didn't feel like it.
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Full Name: Codey Leo Jackson
Code Name: Codey
Numbah: 2-20-2
Age: 11
Grade Level: 6th
Personality : Brave, reckless, and kind to almost everyone young Codey is the model student and young adolescent in the public eye. He is willing to get his homework done and doesn't instigate trouble in school. However despite all of his positive qualities he is still very much a star example of a KND Agent when not around his parents or high ranking KND Members. He is a very bad loser and he is very selfish about ice cream, candy, and other sweets but is willing to share it if it means picking up a younger KND Member. He enjoys wrecking things and especially loves taking adults down a notch. He is very proud of his KND record and is noted for being willing to take over any position that he can cover with confidence. That being said he is not to fond of being ordered around or being around bossy KND Leadership. He tends to be a unpredictable combatant and strategist willing to use the unorthodox to his utmost advantage. He is a fervent believer in Numbah 0's philosophies and believes that every KND member has a right to rise above their station if they have the guts to try it. He is very passionate about what he believes in and refuses to look down on any KND member who has not disgraced themselves. At the end of the day Codey is the type of agent who would lay down everything if it meant letting kids keep having fun and being independent.
Biography : Born in a small town in Michigan young Codey was born to an army sergeant and air plane pilot. His parents and him would often travel about here and there and Codey himself would spend a lot of his time in a military base or in day care. Too say Codey was an active child was an understatement. He went everywhere climbing on everything and challenging others to do the same. Codey spent his early childhood however being disciplined by his harsh but fair dad while being taught by his mother about what it means to be an American child.
It wasn't too long before his activities caught the notice of KND agents who were also military members and he ended up joining their ranks after he accidentally stumbled upon a mission led by a top KND agent in the area and saving the mission from failure when it turned out one of the team members assigned to the mission was a Adult sympathizer. He spent the start of his career learning in Arctic Academy where he excelled especially at combative roles and strategy. It wasn't too long before he graduated and started to take on many missions all over the USA as his parents were assigned to different locations forcing him to switch locations. While he stayed under the general radar for a long time KND noted his skills and eventually when he became nine he was made into a instructor's assistant for a summer in the Arctic Academy. He helped train KND cadets but soon realized it wasn't for him before he resigned and went back to active duty. He is credited with having foiled many plans and plots of adults while being noted for being hard to work with due to his crazy battle style and generally being hard work with during big operations. He has not been promoted too higher KND ranks due to his more devil-may-care approach to missions and operations. Regardless just as many former team mates would agree is indispensable during a fight.
Position: Combat Specialist and KND Historian (If need be he can take on the spot as leader)
Skills:
Adjustable Combat Style
Good at planning loud offensive operations against adult centers
Wide knowledge of KND Weapons due to experience in the field.
Pridefully strong willed
Weapon of Choice:
S.P.I.C.E.R
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Pat yawned as he awakened from his sleep. Today was the day he'd get to meet his comrades at their new tree house base. He instantly shot up from laying on his back once the thought of turning the tree house into a mech popped into his head. With that as motivation he quickly jumped out of bed and prepared for his day. A few hours later followed by a good breakfast Pat was ready to set out to the tree house.
"Okay! Mum I'm going out to play with friends!"
Pat shouted as he pulled a green wagon that was filled to capacity with potential 2x4 technology. His mother waved him good bye as he walked down the street in the direction of a large irregular tree house which oddly she didn't question. It took Pat about 15mins to reach the entrance of the tree house. He entered causally walking towards the meeting room hopefully.
"So is this all of us?"
"Nope!"
Pat said as he entered the meeting room. Good thing someone spoke when Pat happened to walk by or he would've went right pass the meeting room. When Pat stopped walking he dropped his waggen handle and smiled brightly.
"Nice to meet everyone! I am Fuchi-kun or Numbah 103!"
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Full Name:
Patrick Fuchizawa
Code Name:
Numbah 103
Age:
9½
Grade Level:
5th
Personality:
Pat is a bit cocky for someone of his nonthreat like appearance. His intellect often leads him to bragging about his abilities and how he is superior compared to whoever he's talking to. His mouth constantly puts him into situations were he has to run away or negotiate his way out of a beating. It may seem like it but he isn't a complete jerk, now and then he'd poke at someone for knowing something they didn't. Though he seems like the person to never follow orders; He's the complete opposite. When given an order he follows them to perfection doing nothing else until his task is complete. Pat's thought pattern is strange and is motivated by the anime he's beginning to watch. Sometimes he likes to see himself as a mad scientist and ends up locking himself within his room working on something science related. The scientist persona is the main personality type you'll see Pat act out. He's super friendly and sometimes ask people do they go by a nick name, but sometimes he'll give them on himself using "-kun" or "-San" after his created nick name for them.
Biography:
Pat is a half American and half Japanese kid who lived back and forth between Kyoto Japan and alot of the states in the southern parts of America. His mother being a translator for his father until he learned English but the two quickly feel in loved. Around the age of 6 Pat was becoming well rounded with machines since his father was an engineer. Due to his curiousness and first time exposure to anime he was motivated to build a mech which birth a unstable and poor functioning version of Hippie Hop. Though it was a failure the KND seen the potential help he'd be and soon recruited him.
Position:
Scientist/2x4 Technology Officer
Skills:
•Is great at running away
•Can speak a little bit of Japanese
•Is really smart for his age(basically on par with Hoagie Gilligan)
•Good at negotiating
•Sucks at Hand to Hand(He can still do it but will most likely not turn out as the victor)
Weapon of Choice:
T.H.U.M.P.E.R.
Teddy Hurling Ultra Microwave Powered Ejection Rifle.
Rainbow Monkeys
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Numbah 38
Annie smiled when a girl came up to say hi to her. Then a boy popped out of nowhere and was standing in a heroic pose. She found it adorable. "Hi! I'm Numbah 38! You can also call me Annie!" she replied cheerfully to the both of them.
Everyone seemed to be arriving at the same time. So far, only she and Numbah 41 were the only girls. But everyone seemed really nice."Nice to meet everyone!" she said. "I hope we will all get along." Their numbers weren't going to be easy to remember as they were scattered all over the place. She'll have to think of a way to keep track of them until she really gets to know them.
She remembered that the team was larger than most sectors and counted to see how many were here so far. There were 5 which is the average sector size. No one had announced themselves as their leader yet either. Maybe they were late?
They all should probably wait til everyone arrived before exploring around but that would be way too boring. "Do you guys want to explore the tree house?" she asked, already getting out of her seat. "We still have to pick our rooms and stuff."
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Full Name:
Annabelle Lauren Williams
Code Name:
Numbah 38
Age:
9
Grade Level:
4th
Personality:
Annabelle is a sweet, loving girl who loves all things cute. She has a wild imagination and is often seen humming a song or doodling. She may or may not have a hoard of cuddly animals she found on the street in her room, because that is the type of girl she is. Despite her spacey personality, she does well in school and is a good student when she is not fighting adults.
When she is angry, you better beware. She holds a grudge and it's not pretty. If you destroy any of her toys, you'd better run. Though it probably won't do you much good as she is pretty good with a toothpaste gun.
Biography:
Annie was born into a normal American family. She has two older sisters who are currently teenagers but were at one point, KND operatives. They were decommissioned naturally, and have no memory of this. Both of her sisters were great KND operatives and Annie always wanted to follow their footsteps. But she was so unlike them. They were both more tomboy-ish and willing to get messy while Annie wasn't too keen on ruining her pretty pink princess dress. Before they were decommissioned, they had recommended Annie and she somehow passed the Arctic Base training, becoming an official KND.
It turns out that while she isn't too willing to get dirty herself, she was a good shot and good at handling most of the 2 x 4 technology. She became a decent, though not great KND operative. She's working hard though and hopes to one day be a Sector Leader.
Position:
Weapons Specialist
Skills:
* Expertise of long-ranged weaponry
* Agility that allows her to keep her distance from the enemy
Weapon of Choice:
S.Q.O.O.S.H.E.R. or T.H.U.M.P.E.R.
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A small ring from Codey's phone gave him the notice that he had received a message for the KND Dispatch Center. He looked down at the thing and put aside the comic as he looked through the message and yawned.
"Numbah 2-20-2!
I hope you’re getting along with your new team. Anyways, we have a mission for you. There is this new tutoring center that has been out for a while. It’s called Numon? Have you heard of it? Anyways, it’s the worst! Parents are sending their kids there to “get them ahead” and forcing second graders to do high school level math! It’s messed up! They are taking away their kid-ness, you know? Not only are the kids suffering, some kids are even.. Well.. changing. It’s like they were brain-washed or something! You have to stop whatever they’re doing over there! I heard my mom wants to start sending me there next week...help I’ll send you the address attached to this message! Good luck!
As he finished reading he grumbled about having to actually do work now and how he'd need to find his team. Hopefully they were near each other. "Alright then let's get this party started." Codey started as he went over to a nearby fake wooden wall and knocked on it twice. He recognized the design it was the same type of fake wooden plank as the one in Austin Texas's tree house. Good thing those geeks in tech didn't know how to hide things very well. The panel flipped over to reveal a button and a loud speaker. He hit the button and spoke into the speaker, "All Numbahs get your crud together and meet me in the command bay. This is your new leader speaking. We got a new mission from command. I'll fill you all in when I get there. Numbah 2-20-2 over and out!" Codey said loudly as he pulled his hand off the button and flipped the wooden panel back over and whistling a tune before heading down the hallway leaving his comic on the couch. He really didn't know where he was going but chances were he'd find it eventually.
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Full Name: Codey Leo Jackson
Code Name: Codey
Numbah: 2-20-2
Age: 11
Grade Level: 6th
Personality : Brave, reckless, and kind to almost everyone young Codey is the model student and young adolescent in the public eye. He is willing to get his homework done and doesn't instigate trouble in school. However despite all of his positive qualities he is still very much a star example of a KND Agent when not around his parents or high ranking KND Members. He is a very bad loser and he is very selfish about ice cream, candy, and other sweets but is willing to share it if it means picking up a younger KND Member. He enjoys wrecking things and especially loves taking adults down a notch. He is very proud of his KND record and is noted for being willing to take over any position that he can cover with confidence. That being said he is not to fond of being ordered around or being around bossy KND Leadership. He tends to be a unpredictable combatant and strategist willing to use the unorthodox to his utmost advantage. He is a fervent believer in Numbah 0's philosophies and believes that every KND member has a right to rise above their station if they have the guts to try it. He is very passionate about what he believes in and refuses to look down on any KND member who has not disgraced themselves. At the end of the day Codey is the type of agent who would lay down everything if it meant letting kids keep having fun and being independent.
Biography : Born in a small town in Michigan young Codey was born to an army sergeant and air plane pilot. His parents and him would often travel about here and there and Codey himself would spend a lot of his time in a military base or in day care. Too say Codey was an active child was an understatement. He went everywhere climbing on everything and challenging others to do the same. Codey spent his early childhood however being disciplined by his harsh but fair dad while being taught by his mother about what it means to be an American child.
It wasn't too long before his activities caught the notice of KND agents who were also military members and he ended up joining their ranks after he accidentally stumbled upon a mission led by a top KND agent in the area and saving the mission from failure when it turned out one of the team members assigned to the mission was a Adult sympathizer. He spent the start of his career learning in Arctic Academy where he excelled especially at combative roles and strategy. It wasn't too long before he graduated and started to take on many missions all over the USA as his parents were assigned to different locations forcing him to switch locations. While he stayed under the general radar for a long time KND noted his skills and eventually when he became nine he was made into a instructor's assistant for a summer in the Arctic Academy. He helped train KND cadets but soon realized it wasn't for him before he resigned and went back to active duty. He is credited with having foiled many plans and plots of adults while being noted for being hard to work with due to his crazy battle style and generally being hard work with during big operations. He has not been promoted too higher KND ranks due to his more devil-may-care approach to missions and operations. Regardless just as many former team mates would agree is indispensable during a fight.
Position: Combat Specialist and KND Historian (If need be he can take on the spot as leader)
Skills:
Adjustable Combat Style
Good at planning loud offensive operations against adult centers
Wide knowledge of KND Weapons due to experience in the field.
Pridefully strong willed
Weapon of Choice:
S.P.I.C.E.R
|
3,153
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April rise a eyebrow as a boy do some weird pose "and I'm Numbah 75." I guess we have a nerd with us... as April though of that a other kid come in with a rocket boosters...wait wha- "Hey, I'm numbuh 16... Oh and cool pose I'd give it a four out of five you just need a cape." Ok, make that two nerds "So is this all of us?"
April was about to say nope but a other boy beat her to it. "Nice to meet everyone! I am Fuchi-kun or Numbah 103!" "Well I guess that everyone then right? well everyone except the leader."
"Do you guys want to explore the tree house? We still have to pick our rooms and stuff." Pinky say. April didn't think about that, I mean what would happen they just pick a room, do they have to get all their or what? "All Numbahs get your crud together and meet me in the command bay. This is your new leader speaking. We got a new mission from command. I'll fill you all in when I get there. Numbah 2-20-2 over and out!" say I guess is their leader "well we'll explore this place after the mission" April got up from her seat and walk to the command bay.
|
Full Name: April Walker
Code Name: April fools, Spring
Numbah 41
Age: 10
Grade Level: 5
Personality:
One definition April as Deadpan sarcastic young girl with a Sense of Humor and kind of lazy, some spotted her in a beach chair relaxing on one of the S.C.A.M.P.E.R. or watching her little tv.
But that doesn't she a emotionless person, she care about her teammate even if they can be bossy at times, she can have fun and do crazy things in some missions if she want to and she can get angry and not scare to thrown a punch
Biography:
April grew up in a family with two sisters one who's in the first grade and one with diapers, April was in the KND when she was seven years old when a group teen ninja was about to kidnapped her and brainwash her! until a KND agent came to the rescue and she was taken to arctic academy.
April was train in arctic academy and April wanted to do the Medical Specialists trained, she saw some doctor shows that her mom watch and she thought it was a piece of cake but it was a lot harder then she though.
she was soon transfer to 2x4 technology trained after she fixed a KND cadet robot toy which catch A eye of a KND agent.
After April Graduated she been working on 2x4 technology for her sector and other sectors, building flying vehicles and going on mission with her sector
Position: 2x4 technology officer
Skills:
Knowledge of 2x4 Technology
A fast talker
Sense of Humor
Cooking Skills
Weapon of Choice: Gumgunner
rainbow monkeys
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3,154
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Numbah 75
"All Numbahs get your crud together and meet me in the command bay. This is your new leader speaking. We got a new mission from command. I'll fill you all in when I get there. Numbah 2-20-2 over and out!"
Malachi would smirk after hearing his newly received instructions from who he assumed was his new team's leader. Finally some action... The boy would jump off from the platform he stood on and run swiftly out of the main room and towards the command bay. He would stop midway into the hallway looking back at the other teammates still around. "So where is the command bay, exactly?" He would aks openly scratching his head and examining the paths of the hallway.
|
Full Name: Malachi Biggins
Code Name: Big
Numbah 75
Age: 9
Grade Level: 4th
Personality:
Malachi's hatred for adults has overall turned him into a fearless individual who sees no problem fighting anyone twice his size...no THREE TIMES HIS SIZE. Some describe him as having a Napoleonic complex because of his bold personality despite his young age and shorter than average height. He is also known for being a big comic book fan (nerd) which in some cases is shown through his unrealistic and cliche goals. Nonetheless, he is quite calm with other kids and shows minimal aggression towards other operatives unless they're acting like real buttwads.
Biography:
Malachi was an only child born into an adventurous family that traveled across the globe dragging their son with them. Though the thought of traveling may sound fun for some, Malachi preferred to stay at home and read comic books. The only plus that came to traveling was the variety of graphic novels a country he stayed in had. All in all it is what sparked his interest in learning to read other languages. His love for comic books evolved so much that he started to mimic the actions and behaviors of his favorite comic book characters.
Having later moved in with his party-all-night uncle because of his parents voyage to the jungles of Brazil, Malachi was finally recognized by the KND. Much of the impressive skills he showed in the academy were primarily moves he had seen in his comic books. Nonetheless, though he lacked knowledge of procedures or strategic planning he still proved to be valuable operative. Malachi hopes to get his own comic book series glorifying his future KND heroic actions someday.
Position: Combat Specialist
Skills:
•Super cool comic books fighting moves he taught himself
•Lack of fear
•Can read a variety of languages
Weapon of Choice:
S.P.L.A.N.K.E.R.
"Rainbow Monkeys?"
|
3,155
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Numbah 16
Juan starred blankly as everyone else left to go to the command bay. It came to him that he was getting left behind so he hopped on his board and made his ways through the halls. The hero pose kid asked where to go "Just follow the rest." Juan said as he passed by him and then proceeded to pass the rest and make it first into the command bay. "Oh yeah first! That's what i'm talking about" Juan said as he made it first to the command bay and came to a stop on his board before picking it up and holding it by his side. He then started to wait for what happens next.
|
Full Name:Juan Mendez
Code Name:
Numbah 16
Age:10
Grade Level:5th Grade
Personality: Juan is pretty mellow ten year old with a smart brain, but he just doesn't show it or puts forth most effort to use it. He stands for his friends which defines his history. Something to point out would be his tendency to sometimes not follows orders given to him which leads to his rebellious side which comes with most kids of his stature. He is also friendly, a little bit funny, and a great person to rant to about problems.
Biography: ((Will reveal later))
Position:Recon
Skills:
Skating: For his age Juan is a natural at skating and can easily do a wide variety of tricks with his skateboard.
Tough Let's just say he could probably beat numbuh 4 in a fight.
sneaky Well he has to be sneaky if he is a recon.
Weapon of Choice:
S.K.A.T.E.B.O.A.R.D
(Super Kool Action Transportation Extraordinarily Brings Obtains Attachments Radical Dude)
(It's a skateboard with multiple gadgets built in like, rocket booster on the back, interchangeable wheels for different terrain, and ect.)
Rainbow Monkeys
|
3,156
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Numbah 38
"Okay.." Annie was a bit startled by the loud announcement. They already had a mission? But they just got here! They don't even really know each other yet. Admittedly, she wasn't prepared for a mission which was stupid of her. A KND operative always had to be prepared to go on a mission at all times. Luckily her emergency, trusty S.Q.O.O.S.H.E.R. was in her suitcase. She opened her suitcase, and took out the weapon before closing it again.
She was also curious as to who their leader was. He must have been somewhere in the tree house the entire time. Oh, right... mission. She probably should get going to the command bay. She followed closely behind the rest of her teammates to the command bay.
When she got there, she saw that whoever the leader was, wasn't there yet. "I really wonder what he's like..." she thought to herself. She had already gotten some kind of idea who the rest of her teammates are, kind of. These were the people she was going to work with for who knows how long. She waited with the rest of them for the leader to come. Her expression became more serious as she was beginning to focus on the mission that will be presented to them.
|
Full Name:
Annabelle Lauren Williams
Code Name:
Numbah 38
Age:
9
Grade Level:
4th
Personality:
Annabelle is a sweet, loving girl who loves all things cute. She has a wild imagination and is often seen humming a song or doodling. She may or may not have a hoard of cuddly animals she found on the street in her room, because that is the type of girl she is. Despite her spacey personality, she does well in school and is a good student when she is not fighting adults.
When she is angry, you better beware. She holds a grudge and it's not pretty. If you destroy any of her toys, you'd better run. Though it probably won't do you much good as she is pretty good with a toothpaste gun.
Biography:
Annie was born into a normal American family. She has two older sisters who are currently teenagers but were at one point, KND operatives. They were decommissioned naturally, and have no memory of this. Both of her sisters were great KND operatives and Annie always wanted to follow their footsteps. But she was so unlike them. They were both more tomboy-ish and willing to get messy while Annie wasn't too keen on ruining her pretty pink princess dress. Before they were decommissioned, they had recommended Annie and she somehow passed the Arctic Base training, becoming an official KND.
It turns out that while she isn't too willing to get dirty herself, she was a good shot and good at handling most of the 2 x 4 technology. She became a decent, though not great KND operative. She's working hard though and hopes to one day be a Sector Leader.
Position:
Weapons Specialist
Skills:
* Expertise of long-ranged weaponry
* Agility that allows her to keep her distance from the enemy
Weapon of Choice:
S.Q.O.O.S.H.E.R. or T.H.U.M.P.E.R.
|
3,157
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| 2,595
| 7,033
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Codey struggled with getting his gear on all by himself as he sat down on the floor and forcibly shoved his KND Armor onto his body. The armor signified his experience from KND's many operations he'd been in. He had grabbed the armor before moving into the Command Bay, which thankfully turned out too be close by, and wanted to make good first impressions on the other kids here. He had his helmet sitting on the floor next to him. "Come on you bugger sucking boot get on!" Codey grumbled angrily as he finally shoved his foot into the shoe and breathed out. "Oh man finally. You know I really should get a bigger set of this stuff too bad those control jockies never gosh darn do anything." Codey mumbled further as he stood up and tied his shoes and patted down his clothes and armor. He scratched his head vigorously as he finally got that itch away from his head. He set himself up and prepared for all of the kids too get too the room.
....However they didn't come for a bit before he realized he was in the game room and not the command bay. Groaning to himself he kicked the floor in frustration but didn't take it much that further. Instead he rushed towards the Command Bay after actually consulting a nearby layout map of the tree house. He rushed towards the Command Bay and stopped outside of the door. He cleared his throat before going inside and he put on his helmet. He came in with a loud thumping of his boots as he looked over the people in the room. "Hello everyone sorry for the wait...I went to the wrong room by mistake. New tree house and all. Anyway I'm your new boss: Number 2-20-2. Former Artic Academy trainer, long time KND Operator, combat and history specialist, and finally local butt kicker. May as well start off with some quick notes introduce yourselves too me and the others if you haven't already. Sound off." Codey said loudly and clearly as his dad usually did in his military bases.
|
Full Name: Codey Leo Jackson
Code Name: Codey
Numbah: 2-20-2
Age: 11
Grade Level: 6th
Personality : Brave, reckless, and kind to almost everyone young Codey is the model student and young adolescent in the public eye. He is willing to get his homework done and doesn't instigate trouble in school. However despite all of his positive qualities he is still very much a star example of a KND Agent when not around his parents or high ranking KND Members. He is a very bad loser and he is very selfish about ice cream, candy, and other sweets but is willing to share it if it means picking up a younger KND Member. He enjoys wrecking things and especially loves taking adults down a notch. He is very proud of his KND record and is noted for being willing to take over any position that he can cover with confidence. That being said he is not to fond of being ordered around or being around bossy KND Leadership. He tends to be a unpredictable combatant and strategist willing to use the unorthodox to his utmost advantage. He is a fervent believer in Numbah 0's philosophies and believes that every KND member has a right to rise above their station if they have the guts to try it. He is very passionate about what he believes in and refuses to look down on any KND member who has not disgraced themselves. At the end of the day Codey is the type of agent who would lay down everything if it meant letting kids keep having fun and being independent.
Biography : Born in a small town in Michigan young Codey was born to an army sergeant and air plane pilot. His parents and him would often travel about here and there and Codey himself would spend a lot of his time in a military base or in day care. Too say Codey was an active child was an understatement. He went everywhere climbing on everything and challenging others to do the same. Codey spent his early childhood however being disciplined by his harsh but fair dad while being taught by his mother about what it means to be an American child.
It wasn't too long before his activities caught the notice of KND agents who were also military members and he ended up joining their ranks after he accidentally stumbled upon a mission led by a top KND agent in the area and saving the mission from failure when it turned out one of the team members assigned to the mission was a Adult sympathizer. He spent the start of his career learning in Arctic Academy where he excelled especially at combative roles and strategy. It wasn't too long before he graduated and started to take on many missions all over the USA as his parents were assigned to different locations forcing him to switch locations. While he stayed under the general radar for a long time KND noted his skills and eventually when he became nine he was made into a instructor's assistant for a summer in the Arctic Academy. He helped train KND cadets but soon realized it wasn't for him before he resigned and went back to active duty. He is credited with having foiled many plans and plots of adults while being noted for being hard to work with due to his crazy battle style and generally being hard work with during big operations. He has not been promoted too higher KND ranks due to his more devil-may-care approach to missions and operations. Regardless just as many former team mates would agree is indispensable during a fight.
Position: Combat Specialist and KND Historian (If need be he can take on the spot as leader)
Skills:
Adjustable Combat Style
Good at planning loud offensive operations against adult centers
Wide knowledge of KND Weapons due to experience in the field.
Pridefully strong willed
Weapon of Choice:
S.P.I.C.E.R
|
3,158
| 69
| 13
| 2,084
| 884
|
Whem April finally made it to the command bay she saw some kid in some get up clothes, April chuckle a little bit "nice outfit." she say sarcastically as she seat down.
As the kid talk about something, April think about what mission are they going to do? are they going to fight some evil adult? fight teens in their battle armor? fighting teenagers would sound cool not because April want her revenge for almost kidnapped her no no she is not a "wanted revenge" type of person, she want to found out how and what their battle armor work, I mean her guess is a hat cap, a ring or a belt but her bet it is the belt.
"May as well start off with some quick notes introduce yourselves too me and the others if you haven't already. Sound off." say the get up guy, but did we did that all ready? never less April stand up and fix her clothe a little bit.
"um hi, i'm number 41 you guys probably know about that but you can call me April and I will be your 2x4 technology officer, I will help you guys build crazy KND technology just give me call if you want something." and after all that she seat back down, first impressions are good kids.
|
Full Name: April Walker
Code Name: April fools, Spring
Numbah 41
Age: 10
Grade Level: 5
Personality:
One definition April as Deadpan sarcastic young girl with a Sense of Humor and kind of lazy, some spotted her in a beach chair relaxing on one of the S.C.A.M.P.E.R. or watching her little tv.
But that doesn't she a emotionless person, she care about her teammate even if they can be bossy at times, she can have fun and do crazy things in some missions if she want to and she can get angry and not scare to thrown a punch
Biography:
April grew up in a family with two sisters one who's in the first grade and one with diapers, April was in the KND when she was seven years old when a group teen ninja was about to kidnapped her and brainwash her! until a KND agent came to the rescue and she was taken to arctic academy.
April was train in arctic academy and April wanted to do the Medical Specialists trained, she saw some doctor shows that her mom watch and she thought it was a piece of cake but it was a lot harder then she though.
she was soon transfer to 2x4 technology trained after she fixed a KND cadet robot toy which catch A eye of a KND agent.
After April Graduated she been working on 2x4 technology for her sector and other sectors, building flying vehicles and going on mission with her sector
Position: 2x4 technology officer
Skills:
Knowledge of 2x4 Technology
A fast talker
Sense of Humor
Cooking Skills
Weapon of Choice: Gumgunner
rainbow monkeys
|
3,159
| 70
| 0
| 969
| 1,093
|
Posting Rules!
We expect at least a paragraph or two of detail and interaction. Also, try not to stall a scene when people are eager to move on. Obviously, not the most important rule, but if a scene goes on for way longer than it needs to, then try to wrap it up as best you can.
Try not to reiterate as much as possible. Of course, some is fine and necessary. But if 80% of your post is "he said this, then this happened, then she replied this and my char nodded along" without adding much to the existing interaction, it gets pretty redundant.
We expect a moderate understanding of grammar and spelling. You can be Ernest Hemmingway and have the most simplistic sentences, or you can go Dickens level of run ons, as long as I can read them.
IC Drama is awesome, just don't make it over the top and entirely unnecessary. And especially don't let it bleed into the OOC.
No speed posting! You should wait at least 2 posts after yours to post once more. This does vary if you play multiple characters. If you've posted for character A, you must wait two posts to post for them again. But you could post for character B without waiting for two posts after character A.
Collaborations are awesome and encouraged, but not mandatory. However, if it takes too long for you to get a collaboration post up (like a week), just post what you have, even if it's incomplete.
Just because the IC is up, don't forget to check in and chat in the OOC, and chatzy!
We expect posts, at the very least, once a week (not for each character, though, so like you can post one character a week if you want lol)! Collabs all that jazz. Notify us—COMMUNICADO—if you're having an issue and need more time. Otherwise, you know, all that goodbye jazz after two weeks of no communication.
I do have a plot in mind, so I expect you to at least attempt to follow it, but I very much appreciate creative freedom. Just know if I say a post I make is important, I expect it to be read at least once, i.e. the first actual post of this IC.
No godmodding either. D:<
""
Location:
Interaction:
or
""
Location:
Interaction:
Add or Subtract to your heart's desire <3
|
God of transitions, beginnings, passages, doors, and endings
Basic Profile
|Name|
Janus
|Alias(es)|
James Alfero; Associated with the god Partunus
|Gender|
Male
|Sexuality|
Demisexual Homoromantic
|Pantheon/Faith|
Roman
|Occupation|
Bouncer at a Strip Club during the night; Librarian during the day
Appearance
|Godly Appearance|
A god of two faces, one which looks to the past with longing in his eyes, and one that looks to the future in hope and aspiration, Janus embodies the beginning and the end. Body cast in gold, Janus stands at an alarming seven feet, adorned in the robes of a scholar but with fine steel plate layered over. In his hands he holds both heads, which usually find a place hovering, yet connected to his neck. The left holds youth and glory, face a golden shine with eyes blue and glowing brilliance; this face looks toward the future of mankind. The other, held in the right, is one of wizened years, as it looks toward days passed. A lengthy beard of dull, white gold frames the wrinkled edges of his face, with a lighter, dimmer haze of blue radiating from his eyes.
Janus himself hovers off the ground, feet held within a middle ground between the sky and the earth. He is usually found presiding over doorways, especially those to his long dead temples. Not only that, but Janus is ever present for any change and transition, a god of passages, a god of the threshold.
|Earthly Appearance|
Tall, though not as strikingly tall as his 7'0" godly visage, James stands at a nice 6'4"—a giant reigning over the average human. That being far from the truth, however, Janus carries himself with a humbleness and an ever attentive gaze. Though, sharp is his gaze, Janus chose a softer feature for his face, letting the edges of his jaw round rather than stick and the blunt of his nose glides gentle toward average lips, red and soft to the touch. Of all things, James loves smiling, lips found stretching over a row of brilliant, white teeth.
Often considered the most striking feature of his ensemble are James' ears; they're large and fold outward from his head. As well, they tend to move, or wiggle, to the movement of his eyebrows. That meaning, one can tell when James gets particularly excited, as his eyebrows tend to animate when he talks and his ears move along with them. Though, most of his emotions lay in the shine and glint of his green eyes. Though technically green, James' eyes vary in a mixture of color: green holds dominance in it's burst of warmth, though the majority of his iris holds a starburst of golden brown flecks, which dot the green in random pattern.
Regardless of his prominent features, James tends to vary on the average. Even boasting a tall frame with wide set shoulders and physique to fill out the majority of his clothes (he learned quick that, to be an intimidating bouncer, one has to bulk up accordingly), James blends in with the vast majority of mortal crowds. Maybe it's a god thing nowadays, but James doesn't much like bringing attention to himself. He feels deeply that his kind has brought too much trouble to the world of men and women.
Who Am I?
|Personality|
During Rome's reign, Janus presented himself as an amoral figure in the Pantheon. Whereas Bellona thirsted for rage and war, and Venus love and promiscuity, Janus held himself balanced in the middle. He neither wanted nor gained from interference from mortals. Maybe impartiality is a staple to clairvoyant beings, but then again, maybe it had to do with the fact that Janus seemed so ubiquitous to the daily lives of his worshippers. Romans held a vast number of rituals dedicated to just Janus himself, at the start of a year, at the end of it. Even mornings fell in Janus' domain. Thus, it left Janus with little time for emotions, though he grew to care for the small rituals of each Roman citizen.
Present day Janus finds himself overwhelmed with feeling. Overwhelmed with guilt and disgust for his people, in particular and growing ever closer to the humans that used to doddle at his feet. Of course, having been partial for most the near entirety of his godhood, Janus doesn't particular know how to handle emotions. And neither does he know much of society itself. A god that looked toward the future and the past stuck in the present does not make a happy god.
Janus himself contains a vast intellect; his mind is a database of knowledge and facts. However, that does not make up for social knowledge. Most of Janus intelligence remains hypothetical. When faced with the challenge of practicality, Janus seems at a loss with what to do. Interacting with people, interacting with other cultures outside of Rome, all of it left Janus dizzy and with no desire to face the problem head on. For a perceptive god, Janus doesn't pride himself on being able to understand why certain things are happening, just that they are.
This accidental isolation leaves Janus in modern times with a heart weighed heavy by loneliness and a mind still boggled at the mystery of human nature. Maybe he should stay a scholar and philosopher, rather than an actual presence.
|Family|
"Family? I'm... not sure I have that."
|Strengths|
Perceptive
Intelligent
Trusting
Decisive
Liberal
|Weaknesses|
Inattentive/Easily Distracted
Romantic/Idealistic
Aloof
Pedantic
Intensely Hypothetical
|Likes|
Cats
Traveling
Baby Animals
Books/Movies
Doors
Singing and Dancing
Harry Potter
|Dislikes
Hypocrites (Ironically, being literally two-faced)
Prematurely Stopping
Middles
Hates the Aisle Seat on Planes
Being Cutoff While Talking
People Who Slam Doors
People Who Don't Close Doors All The Way
|History|
Unlike most gods, Janus lived in his own temporal bubble. Things went and passed without much interference from himself. Doors opened and closed, both figuratively and literally. Not many myths dealt with Janus himself, though the ones that currently do aren't necessarily accurate—he loathes his association with Cardea who he never once had much relations with. Though, his time spent with Saturn remained one he cherishes today, as he does with Camese. Janus himself didn't have much in the way of friendship, having mainly those two particular gods, as well as a close friendship with Juno, or Hera.
For years, nothing of note had occurred to the god, or that the god incurred upon others. Janus, wise as he may have been, staid much in the shadows and relished in the quiet of peace, when the doors to his temple closed. In terms of other gods, Janus hadn't much to do with them and felt content in his solitude. Only the recent agreement to denounce powers affected Janus greatly. However, it occurred at such a time that he likely would have vanished from memory to the begin with. Thus, Janus gave his powers willingly and went on to live the life of a wandering scholar, and often times a hermit.
Being more of an observing entity, Janus merely watched the ebb and flow of human life. It more so involved his unwavering ineptitude with societal interactions than wanting to observe in the first place. Thus, Janus stuck to the many libraries that dotted Europe and the many churches and cathedrals that hung their shadows in city squares. During this time, Janus took to books and knowledge, learning humanity, but never once truly living it.
However, one thing he did garner from his travels was the closeness he felt to humanity itself. Even standing from afar, Janus took to mortals more so than his own kind and grew ever guilty of the blood his people shed over petty desires and fruitless schemes. That wasn't to say he hated other deities, he just felt slightly biased in his opinion. That didn't quite stop his inquisitive nature and the loneliness he felt as the centuries passed by. Thus, Janus retained one power, extremely week in its ungodly state, like many of his own brethren, which Janus used to remedy his loneliness. Of course, being able to use doors as vocal points for teleportation never really gave him the desired outcome. None of his kind ever really paid attention to him, or found him annoying and rather too talkative, thus, most of his days were spent alone and with his nose buried in a book.
|Opinion on Mortals|
"It's nice to watch them. But, maybe I treat them too much like birds, instead of people."
Most of Janus interactions with humans could be explained in the span of an hour. This is taking into account centuries worth of interaction, which can only fill an hour of time. Most of these interactions were merely hellos, and accidental bumps, rather than in depth conversations, so they are quite numerous in quantity, but lack in quality. Whereas other, more social gods like Aphrodite, could spend years telling her tales of mortal men and women and inbetweens. But, Janus loves humanity, but he much prefers to watch, rather than participate.
|Theme Song|
No Place I'd Rather Be – Clean Bandits
”With every step we take, Kyoto to The Bay
Strolling so casually
We're different and the same, get you another name
Switch up the batteries”
|Favorite Myth|
Eros and Psyche
Mortal vs. Immortal
|Mortal Skills/Abilities|
Well, Janus has a keen sense of perception and can tell various cues apart from each other. However, he can't exactly tell you why something happens, especially if it happens to be something social. That being said, Janus retained his vast depository of useless knowledge. Okay, it's not useless, but there's a lot of stuff in his noggin detailing the intricate chemical compound of yeast and both why and how it grows. Another ability he'd gained is how to tell what properties a door has, what kind of metal or wood it is, how old it is, how sturdy it his. He could talk for days about doors, if only anyone would ask.
Regardless, Janus is well read, well educated, and perceptive of various things.
|Immortal Skills/Abilities|
Janus has always been able to travel through doors, just like Poseidon will always be able to talk to fish, though he doesn't really know why anyone would. They're dull creatures, aside from sharks, jellyfish, and shrimp. And it's not a normal traversal through doorways because anyone can do that. Janus, however, can pretty much pop up anywhere as long as there's a door that'll lead him there.
As his powers grow, Janus will gain his supernatural perception, which will grow into full blown clairvoyance, as well as foresight and hindsight. Thus, leaving him able to foresee various events in the future and pinpoint which path an individual is currently traveling on. Most of all, through these powers, Janus can tell the exact point a person's life will change, as well as end, sharing his ability with Hades. Of course, he doesn't know the exact date and time, just what the event will be. Of course, most of the time Janus doesn't like to spoil things for himself and would rather live the transition himself.
Lastly, Janus' combat capabilities lie in his utter control over portals which he can place and use anywhere between two points. The concept itself is pretty simple: Janus creates a portal beneath someone, they fall into, and are transported somewhere else... depending on if they're mortal or not, it's like out in space. Likewise, Janus can literally rip passages and archways into any concrete surface without harming the surface itself. So he makes doorways by forcing a surface open. This ability over portals will likely be the last of all of them to develop.
|Favorite Myth|
Eros and Psyche
"I like to pretend I have friends. But, I think I've come to realize that never really works out."
Umiko Ryudo || Ryūjin
"She's a lovely lady. I drop by sometimes for tea and sushi."
Hadrian Pryde || Hades
"I think I annoy him, but he's never asked me to leave, so... I think I'd like to stay."
In the past century or so, Janus hasn't known Hades to be anything but prickly, rude, and generally isolated. Most of his interactions beyond the last 10 or so years have been brief, almost nonexistent. Without the necessary tools to peel back that thorn covered layer, Janus has kept his distance as often as he could. How he came to stop by nearly every day, if only for a second, Janus couldn't quite say. Or, actually, he'd rather not say. Janus contains a good memory of change, of when it happens, and why it happens. Thus, it's no different when Janus noticed the change in Hades' demeanor and it all centered in the little boy he'd acquired. And, thus, Janus, in his usual loneliness, got a glimpse of what Hades looked like underneath all the gruff nonchalance and rude exterior.
To say he liked what he saw would be a vast understatement. It's a lot like how he'd come to be best friends with the Goddess of Love and Promiscuity and how she hasn't tried to sleep with him (again).
Thus, despite Hadrian's loud protests, James stays and if he catches a glimpse of a smile from the gloomy lord of the underworld, he won't say. Plus, his kids are the loveliest and Astra has come to call him Uncle James on many, if not all, occasions. He's caught Mikhael do the same, though, like his father, he immediately covers it with a furrow of his brow and a dirty scowl.
James owes a lot to the Prydes for (begrudgingly) welcoming him into their home. For the company he knows Hadrian wants and needs. For allowing him to help with the family's needs. He has a lot of time on his hands and doesn't know what to do with it, so spending time with a family that have slowly come to accept him as one of their own means a lot. Means a lot more than he's willing to let Hadrian know. For reasons. God of the Underworld has a big ego and, well, it'd do no good to fill it, right?
Sable Amasi || Bastet
"She doesn't know it, but sometimes I come by when I know she's not home just to pet her cats."
Amane Mikami || Benzaiten
"She teaches me Japanese! Watashi wa toire wa desu ka."
Ellen Dove || Aphrodite
"Hadrian tells me it's a bad idea, but she's probably one of my best friends. We drink so much wine together."
Hewitt Danford || Huitzilopochtli
"Oh, he's a scary man."
Andrew Jackley || Anubis
"Ellen and I call him Goobis. He's kinda awesome."
Jordan Natter || Jörmungandr
"He looks like a fun guy, but he's kinda mean."
Sebastian Morales || Maximón
"His cat is the best. He maybe not so much."
Regan Macguire || The Morrigan
"She doesn't like to talk to me much."
Kora Black || Persephone
"Hadrian keeps telling me not to talk to her. I don't know why?"
June Fallon || Nemesis
"I don't know if she likes to glare or if she's legit glaring at me."
Personification of the Moon
Basic Profile
|Name|
Máni Mundilfärison
|Alias(es)|
Emmanuel Welch
|Gender|
Male
|Sexuality|
Homosexual
|Relationship Status|
Single
|Pantheon/Faith|
Norse
|Occupation|
Mani has gone through several occupations, gone to college about twenty times. His most memorably time was when he went to Yale when it first founded to become a bishop for the local church. He found Catholicism interesting, but after a few years he tired of it.
Among the occupations and degrees he's gone through are: physics teacher, astronomer, bus driver, bartender, and manager at a Starbucks.
Recently, he's gone back to gather another Astronomy degree and currently works in an observatory for the University of Arizona.
"She's gone. She's really gone."
Appearance
|Godly Appearance|
Mani, unlike his sister, went to the skies without complaint and came, upon his chariot, shrouded in silver. It was said that the gods themselves felt hubris over both brother and sister, as their beauty radiated through day and night. So much so, that their father, Mundilfari, chose Máni, the moon, and Sól, the sun, as their names. Beautiful as they were, beauty only came as a curse and for their father's hubris they were punished. Before the fall of the gods, Mani shone bright in the sky while he glided around the moon in his chariot, a protector that the gods of the moon smiled at—and a companion to the ever lonely Chang'e, trapped just as he in endless rotations.
Other than his silver glow, a reflection of the moon, Mani doesn't differ much from mortals in his visage. He remains his height in both godly and mortal appearance (5'9"), as well as retaining the same physical build. His white curls fold under an iron viking helmet, with silver gilding along the eyes and down the bridge of his nose that shine with the dull grey of his irises. A matching torso of iron mail wraps around his chest, buttoned in clasps of jade given to him by the Chinese moon goddess. The ensemble fits together with his iron leggings and greaves, gilded and trimmed in silver along the edges and creases of the armor.
|Earthly Appearance|
Sharp, like a bird with creases of stress that wrinkle his visage, Mani strikes a crude resemblance to his godly self, and the individual that drove the Asgardians to jealousy. Crooked nose dips into thin, pursed lips that slide over white teeth in a grimace. Mani's cheeks are made for smiling, with their height and prominence, rosy in complexion and rounded perfect by the jowls framing the corners of his mouth. The wrinkles end at his jowls and smooth into an angled jawline that curves toward a narrow chin to neatly frame his face in a diamond. The features of his face embolden in the frame of dark brown, considered long for short hair that fall along the top and side of his hair in a lion's mane coif. Of all the features, Mani takes the greatest pride in his hair, keeping it healthy and perpetually soft to touch; and does Mani appreciate a welcomed touch through his wavy locks.
Mani's skin radiates a fair glow, pale in complexion but not strikingly so, from days away from the bright burn of the sun. It leaves his body in a similar hue, over a lean, muscular frame that accents broad shoulders and a more prominent chest. Mani's posture accentuates the more conspicuous parts of his body, which bounds with a careful, thought out poise. Many of Mani's mannerisms remain stilled and calm with a gentle motion to them; most everything Mani does is deliberate.
A near blinding obedience used to shield the emotions loose in his eyes, a vibrant blue backdrop for complacency. However, these passing days a single-minded determination colors the hues of his iris a dark midnight. Coming through in different shades, darker and darker as it goes, the blue radiates from the pupil in an angry burst of color that layer over each other as they fall into the whites of his eyes. They're cold and distant now, more like the blackness he once found a home in, yet without the bright stars that dot the abyss or the moon to reflect upon the sun's glory. They're ice. They're the depths of the ocean and unfathomable in their dimmed glow. Much like Mani himself remains an enigma, though his cause has never been more obvious.
"Life gives you lemons? You make like a rabbit and hop off."
Who Am I?
|Personality|
Prior to Ragnarok, as he and many other Norse gods call it, Mani took to his job with relative ease—Mundilfari always prided himself with an obedient son. Like the moon, Mani felt calm disposition lighten his veins, lessening the fear of being chased into eternity in an orbit around the celestial body. He supposes, he handled the situation a lot better than his sister ever did—or maybe worse? Sol had always expressed herself freely, let herself see the joys in life and they only ever saw each other in passing, when the moon's orbit brought it closest to the sun.
Looking back now, Mani feels more shame than anything. Why make excuses for gods driven by passion and hatred? That, of all things, Mani regrets the most. The moon itself isn't a cold being, not spiritually at least. Maybe lonely, as Chang'e and her Jade Rabbit were. Maybe disembodied like Coyolxahqui, betrayed by her family and a betrayer herself. Mani, though, of all beings trapped among the crude surface, felt the bond between he and the lunar body rip a part and the dread of impending oblivion sink in. Now, wandering earth in search of purpose, Mani only feels a cold hatred; ironic, as he was chased by Hati, the one who hates.
That coldness drives him further from the gods he sees now. No longer hindered by a filter of ignorance and willful naivety, Mani's hate runs for the deities that sent him to guard the moon in the first place. He shouldn't say guard. No, he was more bait than vanguard. And that hatred drives Mani, both further in his life and further into the ground. Somehow, it's okay, though, to be angry all the time. To just want to throw every piece of furniture out a 10 story window. Because anger feeds into determination, perseverance, a will to continue forward instead of going back or standing still. Mani refuses to remain idol, refuses to continue looking to the past, regardless of how much of it he holds on to; it's always forward for him and if he has to cut a few corners and run people out of his way, then Mani's more than willing.
|Family|
Sól - Sister. Supposedly deceased. Killed by Fenrir.
Mundilfari - Father.
|Strengths|
Nocturnal
Obedient
Learned
Determined
Conscientious
|Weaknesses|
Vindictive
Lost
Callous
Repressive
Overworks Self
|Likes|
Horses
Nightlife
Quiet/Solitude
Starbucks Frappes
Stargazing
|Dislikes
The Sun
White Fluorescent Lights
Heat
Mornings
Getting Out of Bed
|History|
The sky is burning.
The sky is burning. Cold ashen rays from the sun to melt the ocean and the earth in slow waves. The sky was burning and he could do nothing about it, driving the moon from spiteful Hati. These gods and their wars, pulling him and his sister into a fight they would have taken no part in. But, obedient Mani had no qualms. Obedient Mani had seen the Asgardians as heroes and leaders, obviously their decision concluded after many hard nights of reasoning. Prophecies and jealousy and hatred. They took them from their father and they cast them in chariots to guard the moon and the sun, ever chased by Fenrir's ilk—Sköll and Hati. Until prophecy dictated the wolves catch their quarry and devour them whole. He should have listened to his sister's hateful spite.
Events didn't quite unfold that way, at least not for Mani. For his sister, Sol, Sköll hadn't been the one to catch her, Fenrir did the deed and ate her whole. All the gods reigning dominion over the sun never once looked twice at the stalwart protector as her chariot fell from the skies, a comet and tear to rip open the sky. Yet, Mani hadn't heard of her death until he'd gotten free himself—hadn't realized the comet that fell to earth had been her chariot. His quarrels ended when the Shinto god of the moon, Tuskuyomi, intervened in the battle and chase with one swoop of his sword. The wolf Hati, burned by the sword and without a left hand, turned and fled to his father's side to aid in his battle.
Left to wander the skies in search of his sister, rather than the surveillance of the moon, Mani came to find no solace in the stars he called home. The gods of the sun gave him no head and so he, enraged, fell to the earth to discard his chariot and leave the moon without a sentinel to watch over. Luckily for him, Mani's timing occurred nearly perfectly, as once he landed the gods, as well as he, signed a pact to relinquish their powers. Thus, Mani's chariot would have been forced from his care regardless of his decision and thus left to roam the earth again, after millenia.
With no real word on his sister, Mani assumed her dead by the hands of Fenrir and thus he spent the next century or so finding the likely downgraded wolf to enact some kind of vengeance. Being near-human, however, that search came and went and Mani soon found himself tired and lost as to what to do. Thus, he moved along with humanity, content to learn and study and occupy his time, but still as lost as ever. He staid away from most gods, loathing most beings for both casting them to the sky and letting Sol perish. The only gods he ever had any real contact, and contentment with were those in the Shinto dominion, as they came to his aid when he needed it the most.
Bouncing from country to country to eventually continents, Mani finally settled somewhere in Arizona with another astronomy degree (since one from the 18th century seemed slightly phony) and a yearning to look back to the skies.
|Opinion on Mortals|
"I live among them. I at least care a little bit of what happens to them, and likely won't bargain their lives away, but other than dire situations, I don't much care for them."
Mani's relationship with mortals, in general, is rather indifferent. Of course, he would side with them in a heartbeat if the situation threatened their well being, but most of the time Mani doesn't pay them much attention. Maybe that's because he's a relative introvert, preferring his solitude over much else, as well as his work. Most humans don't pay him mind, as he's often hunched over papers, books, or preoccupied with a telescope or computer.
|Theme Song|
Cosmic Love – Florence + The Machine
”The stars, the moon, they have all been blown out
You left me in the dark
No dawn, no day, I'm always in this twilight
In the shadow of your heart”
"Is it bad that I have no idea what to do with myself?"
Mortal vs. Immortal
|Mortal Skills/Abilities|
With a drive and a purpose, anyone can do whatever it is their heart requests. For Mani, that meant quite a few things. The former god of the moon knows too much math for his own good, keeping himself routed in physics based calculus and graphing to aid in his astronomy work. Speaking of which, Mani would gladly discuss each and every one of the heavenly bodies, telescopes, satellites, how everything works out in space. He'll talk for days, if he's allowed to.
Aside from that, Mani is exceptionally skilled at driving, playing the piano, taking care of horses, horse riding, and coffee foam art.
|Immortal Skills/Abilities|
Mani didn't have an arsenal of godly weapons at his disposal. To be honest, he didn't and still doesn't have much. Of all things, though, Mani has speed and will out race almost anyone that's not Hermes or Mercury, especially in a vehicle. He still kind of retains that speed and the ability of enhanced perception whilst traveling at an inhuman velocity, so his reflexes and thoughts are infinitely better in fast situations.
One power he will regain is superhuman healing when in the moonlight, as well as night vision, and enhanced strength, senses, and reflexes. There's honestly not much else besides that.
At the end of his shift in power, Mani will be able to summon his chariot, which travels roughly the speed of a jet airplane, but when given the space to do so, i.e. in space, it can travel at light speeds. He also regains his shield, able to hold off even Fenrir for but a short time.
"I have never been so amazed at the idea of sleep. I do it so much now."
Serpent of the Wind, God of Rain, Winds, Creator of the World
Basic Profile
|Name|
Quetzalcohuātl
|Alias(es)|
Q'uq'umatz
Kukulkan
Waxaklahun Ubah Kan
Ehécatl
As of now he refers to himself as Querida Castillo; goes by Reed for short, most of the time.
|Gender|
Genderless. Uses masculine pronouns
|Sexuality|
Gray-A
|Relationship Status|
Single. Why would I trifle in meaningless affairs?
|Pantheon/Faith|
Mesoamerican
|Occupation|
Reed, since the fall of the Mesoamerican pantheon and the subsequent fall of gods themselves, has been busy at exploring various jobs. So far, he's gone through construction work to being a CFO to a large oil company stationed in Texas during the 1900s. Recently, though, Reed has taken to playing the piano, a hobby he'd picked up at the start of his 'mortal' life and has since been honing for centuries. He's preformed quite a bit in the 1920s, stopped, and started up during World War II. After the 60s, he saved up all his earnings and took a vacation for a few decades before opening a small business. It started off as a coffee shop in the 90s, gave that up in the 2000s and opened a lounge/bar in San Diego that catered to an older era, aesthetic wise. He lets various artists preform there, most of them unknown and most of them he personally likes. On occasion, he'll sing and play piano.
Appearance
|Godly Appearance|
Quetzalcoatl personifies fear, embodies it with every coil of his body and feather of his wings. Pyramids erected in his name, possessing exact time and day and sunlight, call to a beast of the wind and child of the heavens. Dwarfing even the dragons of the middle age, Quetzal more resembles the visage of the great king Ao Guang with his serpentine form. All sharp edges of green, turquoise, and gold, Quetzalcoatl's scales remind of the great Mayan pyramids with steps wide to the top
|Earthly Appearance|
How would they appear as a mortal from day to day life? What are their striking features? At least one solid paragraph.
Who Am I?
|Personality|
Who could be more of a snake than the giant snake himself?
Of all traits, Quetzalcoatl has always been known for his cunning. Of course, a lot of people like to call it assholery. Douchebag a la mode. Fuckboi with a side of asshat. Quetzalcoatl simply calls it, "I'm smarter than you." And, by leaps and bounds, Quetzal's intellect soars at great heights, maybe a little too great for his ego. Regardless, despite his usual pompous demeanor, Quetzal's mind looks at situations and issues more analytically than most people. His mind takes a problem and puts it in a database, catalogs it, and then searches for a solution all within the span of a few moments. That isn't to say he does this with every moment of his life and Quetzal has found that a lot of times, his solutions don't seem to fix the problem as a whole, but merely puts a tarp over it and calls it a day.
Supposedly, that leads to Quetzalcoatl's more relaxed nature. After so many years of strife, war, killing, sacrifices made in his honor, it's gotten to the point where Quetzalcoatl simply wishes to not care. For a while. For a good, long time. He's spent too long being serious and working up a persona that's far too exaggerated to resemble who he really is. And now, exhaustion seems to have caught him by the tail feathers and yanked him down into a weird complacency. A spot where Quetzal doesn't ever feel the need to exert his full effort or put his whole self into anything that he doesn't find personally enjoyable. Thus, Quetzal tires of things easily and people even more so. Many war gods (most of the Aztec pantheon, let's be real here) tend to attribute this to a lack of strife and battle, which he'll concede too because Quetzal isn't an argumentative person, even if they're entirely wrong. If he wants to win something, he'll do it his own way.
And then there's the part of Quetzalcoatl that shows just a glimpse of the great being he used to be. Not many people can match the vindictive streak that Quetzal has and will continue to pull off. Usually, the punishment fits the crime—or, at least it does so in Quetzal's mind. For too used to the cruel ways of the Aztec's, Quetzal's methods of getting back at someone can border on the sadistic and often leads to very nasty repercussions on his part. If a man is willing to mow down an entire nation back when he held the power, maybe it's not quite the best idea to get on his bad side. Because that's a lot of hatred to pour into just one person.
|Family|
Tezcatlipoca
Huitzilopochtli
|Strengths|
Clever
Persuasive
Elusive
Amiable
Attentive
|Weaknesses|
Clumsy
Hella Vindictive
Immoral
Ruthless
Repressive
|Likes|
Rum
Lounging
Sunbathing
Being Shirtless a Lot
Flying
|Dislikes
Being Grounded
Ursurpers
Mongoose
Being Woken Up
Swimming
|History|
None were quite as revered as he, upon his throne of stone and golden rays. He was the sun and the moon; the stars shone in his name, beating like the hearts carved upon his altar. And yet, for a king he did not fall with grace. When he fell, he took the world with him—world swallower. The ruination of kingdoms.
In the years passing, whilst the Aztecs reigned in warfare in doom and the Mayans held their culture until the waters fled them, Quetzalcoatl became ever more content with his waning thirst. From rejoicing in the hearts of his followers to throwing their offerings in disgust. Quetzalcoatl grew far more than most of his Mesoamerican brethren aimed to. But, bloodthirst was never a staple for the serpent, even when it felt nice to sink his fangs into something sweet enough that it popped.
It was this that Quetzalcoatl had been betrayed for. And the temples in his name seemed like dust with the people raising their shouts and battle cries to the serpent coiled around them. He supposed he owed much of this to his dear brother, who looked upon his throne and saw only the green of his scales from those slit eyes. And the jaguar whispered his deceit into the ears of the Mesoamerican people, of the damnation their king would bring them.
At that moment, neither of them knew of the truth.
He supposed it didn't matter, when his brother took him by the wings and shred them with fangs and teeth and claws and tossed him to the sea. Living, it seemed, was his brother's insult, like he spat upon his grave and told him he wasn't worth it. Quetzalcoatl seethed. He raged and the seas cried in anger with him. From there he tore through the ocean with something more than just his pride to heal.
When he arrived upon the coast of Portugal, Quetzalcoatl took to blending with the mortals easily, as many gods had done in the years that had passed. From there, Quetzalcoatl ventured to Spanish and made a name for himself, until Quetzalcoatl became Hernan Cortes and his eyes were set to the coast of Mexico. From there, the snake readied his venom and when he set sail all his eyes could see was the red of flames as Tenochtitlan burned to the ground.
Upon making ground, the people looked upon him as their returned god Quetzalcoatl and they couldn't have been more correct. To know that these people expected him after his own flesh and blood brother threw him to the sharks, that made it all the easier to continue the charade. And from there, Quetzalcoatl would uproot the Aztec people and burn them to the ground. From here on out, Quetzalcoatl saw only in red and he found it easier to massacre his own people than to think about exactly what crimes he was committing. It wasn't until he gutted the current ruler, Moctezuma, and set the Aztec people alight with rebellion did Quetzalcoatl finally understand the horrors and atrocities he'd committed. But, he'd come this far.
After making a hasty retreat, Quetzalcoatl regrouped his men and turned their advance once more upon the island city of Tenochtitlan. From afar, with his back turned to the flames, his home came under siege and was finally brought to its knees. He claimed it for the Spanish and the Aztecs dispersed, the nation toppled, and the few remaining willingly bowing to their Spanish conquerors.
The memory, to this day, remains locked away in the deep orifices of Quetzalcoatl's mind. He went through various trials then, quickly shedding his title as Cortes and becoming a man of his own. Without revenge and vendetta plaguing his thoughts, Quetzalcoatl was free to do as the other gods had done. He made a life for himself, though he often hopped from here to there, working through jobs and the various enterprises, but mostly getting bored of them and the people.
He went from Mexico to the states in the early 1900s, quickly picking up the piano and finding a nice niche in the growing, industrial boomtown of New York City. He made something out of himself, lost his mind in the music, and eventually went through various tours, disappeared, and did the exact same thing under a new alias. It wasn't until he'd gotten tired of the constant travel and audience that Quetzalcoatl came up with the name Querido Castillo, finished out a great year for his career, and finally settled on a business that quickly turned into something big on the West Coast. Well, big for a small business. It was nice enough. Not too prestigious, but not too much of a hole in the wall that he was scrambling for money.
And now, he doesn't really know what he'll do with himself.
|Opinion on Mortals|
"Silly things, humans are. One moment they're willing to gut a man to appease a god and the next they're willing to stab someone to death to steal a wallet full of nothing."
Quetzalcoatl both appreciates human beings for what they are, but also looks down upon them. Of course, the latter part is often of the more subtle variety, since he's not the top to go flaunting his fallen godhood, but, for the most part, it's still pretty evident. Plus, they're gullible and mean and treacherous. Despite that, they'd have to do quite a bit to cause Quetzal to rain down his ire for a second time. It'd have to be big, but he doesn't doubt that they're capable.
Most of all, though, Quetzalcoatl has a deep regret for what he's done and if he should ever lose that control again, he's not quite sure he could handle being sober, much like what The Morrigan has become.
|Theme Song|
Pompeii – Bastille
”We were caught up and lost in all of our vices
In your pose as the dust settled around us”
Mortal vs. Immortal
|Mortal Skills/Abilities|
What skills have they picked up that lie outside the realm of their godly abilities? Also, what residual effects do their powers have on mortals? Aphrodite being attractive, Apollo being a great guitar player and so on.
|Immortal Skills/Abilities|
While the deities begin to regain their powers, slowly, what is it that your character will be able to do/how can they influence the world in supernatural ways? Bear in mind these will be weakened forms to begin with. Eg. Zeus can’t reign down thunder and murder entire cities, but he can probably cast it at one person; Hermes can run at incredible speed, but not to the extent he could as a God...
The Eight Legged Horse of Odin
Basic Profile
|Name|
Sleipnir
|Alias(es)|
Stephen Lord
|Gender|
Male
|Sexuality|
Demisexual Homoromantic
|Relationship Status|
Single
|Pantheon/Faith|
Norse
|Occupation|
|Godly Appearance|
A written description of your character’s appearance as an immortal, or how they otherwise differed from normal humans. Some might even have taken an animal or animalistic form. Include traditional weapons or armor that have become their symbols.
|Earthly Appearance|
How would they appear as a mortal from day to day life? What are their striking features? At least one solid paragraph.
Am I?
|Personality|
What kind of person is your character? What are their motivations? How do they interact with people around them? Also include things like how they’ve changed ever since they’ve transitioned into mortal life. Have they gotten kinder? Meaner? Etc
Be sure to write in flaws! Absolutely no Mary Sues/Gary Stus
|Family|
Loki - Father
Svaðilfari - Mother
Fenrir - Half-Brother
Jormungandr - Half-Brother
Hel - Half-Sister
|Strengths|
At least 5
|Weaknesses|
At least 5
|Likes|
At least 5
|Dislikes
At least 5
|History|
Obviously a gloss on what they’ve done in human history since coming into existence. Must include what they were known for, how they reacted to the agreement to give up their powers, and what they have done since as a pseudo-mortal.
|Opinion on Mortals|
What do they think about other mortals, who have no knowledge of the gods? What do they think about being one of them – sort of?
|Theme Song|
Song – Artist
”A few lyrics here, please.”
|Favorite Myth|
What's your favorite story from any mythology or religion. If you don't have one, any book will do!
vs. Immortal
|Mortal Skills/Abilities|
What skills have they picked up that lie outside the realm of their godly abilities? Also, what residual effects do their powers have on mortals? Aphrodite being attractive, Apollo being a great guitar player and so on.
|Immortal Skills/Abilities|
While the deities begin to regain their powers, slowly, what is it that your character will be able to do/how can they influence the world in supernatural ways? Bear in mind these will be weakened forms to begin with. Eg. Zeus can’t reign down thunder and murder entire cities, but he can probably cast it at one person; Hermes can run at incredible speed, but not to the extent he could as a God...
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"That's not something you just skirt over."
Interactions: With his computers
Location: Observatory, Phoenix, Arizona; 8:08 p.m.
Moonlight settled the range of sepia rock and barely there shrubbery in a light haze, far above the smog of Phoenix's city life. Beyond the mountain and the pollution of lights smearing the sky in a viscous black ink, the only lights catching the horizon for miles came from the beat up Honda Civic rumbling down a dirt path and into a tiny parking garage. Honestly, the garage itself looked more like a shack than something paid for by a well-off university. Dwarfing the garage, the Observatory stood atop a hillside, pointing its panels and revealed telescope toward Orion's bow in the winter sky. Attached to the observatory lay a small building where various, powerful machines were housed for research. And off west and to the side, sat a numerous amount of far too large to be ordinary antennae settled on one vocal point in the northern sky.
The observatory itself remained separate from the house of machines, computers, and hard drives, which ran for the satellite project dubbed Haus. The entirety of the observatory's astronomers took part in Haus' research, meaning the University itself helped fund it. The research aimed to look into space at a higher definition and much, much farther than Hubble's could ever quite reach. The Haus telescope could render an image in real time for that section in space, meaning light wouldn't have to travel millions of miles. The project seemed far advanced for its time, which could be acquitted to the man who made the telescope from scratch: Valentine Haus, or as Emmanuel grew to know him, Vulcan.
A disheveled man, looking to be on Australian time rather than his own, bumbled out of the Civic with his suit coat wrinkled over his shoulders and a case in a barely there grip in his hands. Emmanuel Welch found his vacation to have ended abruptly, though the look on his face looked conflicted with the return of monitoring the night sky coupled with actually working. It found a nice in between scowl whilst Emmanuel jogged up the steps to one of the numerous entrances in order to slide his key fob in and tumble inside himself.
"A little late there, bucko," a quiet voice owned by a petite blonde rounded the corner the moment Emmanuel did. Snark held tight to the blonde's features, keeping an almost there scowl twisting her lips and cheeks. Caustic words seemed her go to, reaching an irritating balance between nasally and sarcastic.
With a taught frown, he sat what possessions he brought across from her small frame within the tiny space they acquired. "Anything big from Haus, Danielle?" Emmanuel moved past her toward their cramped space of coffee pots, mugs, and a half-eaten dish of cheesecake.
"You realize everything we find with that thing is considered groundbreaking, right?" Danielle replied with a steel glare. Emmanuel deflected both the question and her scrutiny with a well placed cup of coffee. "But, I think I did find something. You might wanna head down to the computer house to check the recent images Haus acquired," Danielle, after a lengthy pause, began, setting whatever she'd been working on down to look more closely at Emmanuel, "Steve thinks it's a glitch, that something's blocking the telescope's view, but I dunno."
"Well, fuck Steve, then. Tell me what you think," Emmanuel said, turning toward her with a mug of sugar in his hands—he liked his coffee heavy on the sweet side. He watched Danny squirm in her seat as her eyes moved toward the papers in her hands. She shuffled them with her brow pinched, before pursing her lips and stacking them neatly within her grasp. A sigh left her lips before she set the papers down again and turned fully toward Emmanuel, eyeing his hazmat mug with caution.
"I think you need to take a look at it yourself."
Alias: Odyn Redheart
Interactions: Nobody in Particular
Location: High rise, Sydney, Australia; 2:08 p.m.
Crimson red coated the walls of this Sydney penthouse, with gold trimming that demanded attention. A chandelier hung in the middle of a semi-circular living room, above a yew coffee table in a dipped annex between the kitchen and a large panoramic view of the sandy beach and endless ocean. An empty wine glass sat stained red beside a vase of yellow and orange anemones, the owner having left for a quick shower before his meeting—an unfortunate severance deal for the splitting of two companies who didn't see eye to eye in the first place. It required a touch of alcohol.
In the far corner of room itself writhed a curtain of steam from the bedroom door. From it a silhouette emerged, bracketed by the open door frame with a towel tight around its waist and a phone to its ear.
"Apologies, my shower faucet has been acting up," the gruff figure of Odyn rumbled into the speaker as he walked through his penthouse with no regard for his lack of clothing, "it gets locked up and wastes all of my hot water. I have steam wafting into my bedroom and rolling out into the main chamber.
"Anyway, I'll be there in about," Odyn took the moment to glance up at the stationed clock by his fridge. It staid stock still at 2:08 p.m. with a sharp crack unusually straight down the middle. His brow furrowed, but he made no effort to truly care; he didn't have time to ponder over faulty machinery. "I'll get there in an hour, expect me by, let's say three."
Upon turning, Odyn's brows furrowed at the shadow cast at his feet that grew with a rapid intensity. His eyes caught a figure outside, and he tilted his head with a scrunched expression. Chalking it up to nothing, Odyn moved back toward his bedroom only to be stopped mid stride by grasping blackness. A scream caught his throat, the phone clattering as the blackness edged over him and promptly disappeared, leaving the former god a mere husk—a stain on his marble floors.
"A glitch my fucking ass."
Interactions: Danielle, Computers
Location: Observatory, Phoenix, Arizona; 8:11 p.m.
How could anyone possibly think this thing resembled a technical error? Much less something blocking the telescope. No, too obvious to be anything but the space Haus showed.
Emmanuel, forehead creased and dented at the top of his bridge, looked back and forth between two HD copies of different parts of the sky. He turned to Danielle, who had proceeded to bite her lip and glanced up at him from the rim of her glasses. "Steve thinks this is a glitch?" he asked and she nodded quickly, "Where'd he get his degree?"
"DePaul, why?"
"Well, DePaul can suck my fucking cock," Emmanuel nearly shouted, slapping the pictures onto the table in front of him. "When were these taken?" He began a brisk walk through the warm environment, disappearing behind a large stack of state of the art computer hard drives. Danielle followed as quick as she could, cursing her high heels and awful coordination.
"Just a little over a month ago. I was going to run a few tests again this morning, but Steve insisted I don't," Danielle huffed, stopping right behind the hunched body of Emmanuel, "I can't believe they hired such a blatant, sexist asshole. Are we allowed to get him fired for this?"
"I would like to, yes, but I'm not," Emmanuel said, hands typing code quickly through the keyboard before finally, on the projector to his side, an image popped up. It laid black as night, but eerie in quality, as if he were staring into an abyss that dared to stare back. Danielle frowned at his side, her eyes never leaving the displayed image while Emmanuel continued fiddling with the code. "Here's another," he said the moment the second picture lit up the screen, displaying a partial galaxy.
"Wait, that's... that's the Andromeda galaxy," Danielle stated and Emmanuel nodded, before typing another set of codes in. The image widened to reveal more of the galaxy. "What the fuck? That's not natural—not for this galaxy."
"Millions of light years of space, just gone."
"I wonder if he's still alive in ther—nope, that's pretty dead."
Interactions: Odin's Dead Body
Location: High rise, Sydney, Australia; 3:11 p.m.
Moments later...
"Mr. Redheart?" a crisp Australian accent rang through the hallway leading to the personal elevator, stopping short of the foyer. Nothing seemed unusual, aside from an astray picture on the wall that needed correcting. The man, decked in a service uniform, left his cart of cleaning supplies at the entrance to the living room and proceeded to examine what needed cleaning. His eyes stopped roaming the moment they landed on the rooted and charred figure of Odyn Redheart in the midst of his foyer, his garish, orange colored cellphone cracked on the marble beneath him. "Jesus Christ," he ran toward the figure before gingerly picking up the phone and, swiping for emergency contact and entering the triple zero. He ranted off what he could and made his way back to the foyer to await—and partially because the statue that used to be Mr. Redheart still had its eyes intact.
Once the man left, voice barred by the door between him and the living room, the clack of footsteps echoed through the spacious living area. The feet belonged to rather long, brown slacks, and a white buttoned up torso. And the face, with it's pursed lips and inquisitive eyes, belonged to a very disconcerted deity. James made a circle around the supposed evidence the Oracle of Delphi had directed him towards. Her words rang stark in his ears.
... body like molten ash, hollowed out with eyes frantically looking on as the stars collapsed and the skies fell. He smells of sulphur and cyanide; he wreaks of radiation. It feels like a star died within him.
And now that James thought of it, having an Odin Statue leaking radiation everywhere seemed very detrimental to the various human lives in the vicinity. But he couldn't help but stare because James felt it, like a chain snapped around him. As if someone dialed up on the frequency of the universe and let him hear a few more buzzes, a few more words, a few more mumbles from distant planets. The moment it happened, James felt a cold chill run down his spine and in that instant terror sank in his stomach. It felt real, now, thinking about it and perhaps that was because it was real; the terror sank back in, eating up his insides with a hunger.
Or maybe that was the gamma radiation.
Regardless, James wrapped his arms around Odin's deceased form and pried him from the scene of the crime to take him back through the doorway he'd come from. Upon arriving, he was greeted with the face of Tyr and Athena behind him, both looking grimly at the body chugged over his shoulder.
"Looks like we'll need a meetin'," Tyr rumbled, the corners of his mouth pulling further down, "I'll task you with that. Open the doors, Janus."
"Aye, aye," James replied, looking toward Athena now who motioned him toward the hallway that lead to the analytical quarters of the newly fashioned 'Asgard'—a building in midday New York, shielded by what magic the remaining gods had left and only accessible through discreet permission from the gods themselves.
Alias: Tyler Ericson
Interactions: The Summit Hall
Location: Asgard
The great hall of Asgard held many archways and many halls with many doors and now, in this time of desperation, they all flung open. And through each one poured a deity, confused and bewildered as the last they were summoned here, they'd lost their powers. Now, they were finding them returning and each more grew in puzzlement, with questions they asked their fellow beings as they filtered into the great hall's granite splash of grey, blue, and gold floors, it's large, assuming pillars supporting the dome of constellations that hung over their heads. Grand archways lead into a series of seats fashioned in a circle around a large pavilion, staggered like a lecture hall, where a number of Gods of Wisdom and Law kept seated, Janus among them with his eyes wandering the various faces he thought he'd soon forget. Tyr stood in the front, waiting as each god took their seat and once they had he boomed, loud and clear in the echo of Asgard's mighty walls, his only hand (rather than the nub) gesturing to a clothed figure beside him.
"It is with great misfortune that I say these words," Tyr stated, thick rolling, Irish hillsides laden in his voice, his head swiveling to pan across the congregation of deities, eyes falling on empty spots of deceased gods and goddesses of the war long passed, "but we've lost a great friend and former leader. Odin, King of Asgard and all the Norse, has befallen a terrible fate."
He leaned toward Janus who caught his eye, "If you would, my friend?"
A shout and a few collective gasps (and a laugh, which had James snorting) rang amidst the crowd as James unveiled the stone body of Odin. "After a great many years of peace, I am shocked to be saying this," Tyr hung his head low as he spoke, "But we here suspect a fellow deity has done this. As you know, we bound our powers within a seal of our own beings. It was bound to our lifetimes, infinite as it were, but unfortunately is not," he gestured to the deceased Odin, "and with his life, the seals have begun breaking and losing one chain has rattled the others. You witnessed it, we witnessed it, unfortunately we have no evidence other than suspicion as to who could have accomplished such a feat. However, we will not be announcing any names. I bring you here to notify you of our impending investigation and to mourn our loss."
Athena stepped up to offer her statement, once Tyr's pause grew lengthy enough, "We ask that you all remain here for the time being whilst the summit delivers its few statements. I assume, as gods, none of you have anywhere else to be?
"Good."
|
God of transitions, beginnings, passages, doors, and endings
Basic Profile
|Name|
Janus
|Alias(es)|
James Alfero; Associated with the god Partunus
|Gender|
Male
|Sexuality|
Demisexual Homoromantic
|Pantheon/Faith|
Roman
|Occupation|
Bouncer at a Strip Club during the night; Librarian during the day
Appearance
|Godly Appearance|
A god of two faces, one which looks to the past with longing in his eyes, and one that looks to the future in hope and aspiration, Janus embodies the beginning and the end. Body cast in gold, Janus stands at an alarming seven feet, adorned in the robes of a scholar but with fine steel plate layered over. In his hands he holds both heads, which usually find a place hovering, yet connected to his neck. The left holds youth and glory, face a golden shine with eyes blue and glowing brilliance; this face looks toward the future of mankind. The other, held in the right, is one of wizened years, as it looks toward days passed. A lengthy beard of dull, white gold frames the wrinkled edges of his face, with a lighter, dimmer haze of blue radiating from his eyes.
Janus himself hovers off the ground, feet held within a middle ground between the sky and the earth. He is usually found presiding over doorways, especially those to his long dead temples. Not only that, but Janus is ever present for any change and transition, a god of passages, a god of the threshold.
|Earthly Appearance|
Tall, though not as strikingly tall as his 7'0" godly visage, James stands at a nice 6'4"—a giant reigning over the average human. That being far from the truth, however, Janus carries himself with a humbleness and an ever attentive gaze. Though, sharp is his gaze, Janus chose a softer feature for his face, letting the edges of his jaw round rather than stick and the blunt of his nose glides gentle toward average lips, red and soft to the touch. Of all things, James loves smiling, lips found stretching over a row of brilliant, white teeth.
Often considered the most striking feature of his ensemble are James' ears; they're large and fold outward from his head. As well, they tend to move, or wiggle, to the movement of his eyebrows. That meaning, one can tell when James gets particularly excited, as his eyebrows tend to animate when he talks and his ears move along with them. Though, most of his emotions lay in the shine and glint of his green eyes. Though technically green, James' eyes vary in a mixture of color: green holds dominance in it's burst of warmth, though the majority of his iris holds a starburst of golden brown flecks, which dot the green in random pattern.
Regardless of his prominent features, James tends to vary on the average. Even boasting a tall frame with wide set shoulders and physique to fill out the majority of his clothes (he learned quick that, to be an intimidating bouncer, one has to bulk up accordingly), James blends in with the vast majority of mortal crowds. Maybe it's a god thing nowadays, but James doesn't much like bringing attention to himself. He feels deeply that his kind has brought too much trouble to the world of men and women.
Who Am I?
|Personality|
During Rome's reign, Janus presented himself as an amoral figure in the Pantheon. Whereas Bellona thirsted for rage and war, and Venus love and promiscuity, Janus held himself balanced in the middle. He neither wanted nor gained from interference from mortals. Maybe impartiality is a staple to clairvoyant beings, but then again, maybe it had to do with the fact that Janus seemed so ubiquitous to the daily lives of his worshippers. Romans held a vast number of rituals dedicated to just Janus himself, at the start of a year, at the end of it. Even mornings fell in Janus' domain. Thus, it left Janus with little time for emotions, though he grew to care for the small rituals of each Roman citizen.
Present day Janus finds himself overwhelmed with feeling. Overwhelmed with guilt and disgust for his people, in particular and growing ever closer to the humans that used to doddle at his feet. Of course, having been partial for most the near entirety of his godhood, Janus doesn't particular know how to handle emotions. And neither does he know much of society itself. A god that looked toward the future and the past stuck in the present does not make a happy god.
Janus himself contains a vast intellect; his mind is a database of knowledge and facts. However, that does not make up for social knowledge. Most of Janus intelligence remains hypothetical. When faced with the challenge of practicality, Janus seems at a loss with what to do. Interacting with people, interacting with other cultures outside of Rome, all of it left Janus dizzy and with no desire to face the problem head on. For a perceptive god, Janus doesn't pride himself on being able to understand why certain things are happening, just that they are.
This accidental isolation leaves Janus in modern times with a heart weighed heavy by loneliness and a mind still boggled at the mystery of human nature. Maybe he should stay a scholar and philosopher, rather than an actual presence.
|Family|
"Family? I'm... not sure I have that."
|Strengths|
Perceptive
Intelligent
Trusting
Decisive
Liberal
|Weaknesses|
Inattentive/Easily Distracted
Romantic/Idealistic
Aloof
Pedantic
Intensely Hypothetical
|Likes|
Cats
Traveling
Baby Animals
Books/Movies
Doors
Singing and Dancing
Harry Potter
|Dislikes
Hypocrites (Ironically, being literally two-faced)
Prematurely Stopping
Middles
Hates the Aisle Seat on Planes
Being Cutoff While Talking
People Who Slam Doors
People Who Don't Close Doors All The Way
|History|
Unlike most gods, Janus lived in his own temporal bubble. Things went and passed without much interference from himself. Doors opened and closed, both figuratively and literally. Not many myths dealt with Janus himself, though the ones that currently do aren't necessarily accurate—he loathes his association with Cardea who he never once had much relations with. Though, his time spent with Saturn remained one he cherishes today, as he does with Camese. Janus himself didn't have much in the way of friendship, having mainly those two particular gods, as well as a close friendship with Juno, or Hera.
For years, nothing of note had occurred to the god, or that the god incurred upon others. Janus, wise as he may have been, staid much in the shadows and relished in the quiet of peace, when the doors to his temple closed. In terms of other gods, Janus hadn't much to do with them and felt content in his solitude. Only the recent agreement to denounce powers affected Janus greatly. However, it occurred at such a time that he likely would have vanished from memory to the begin with. Thus, Janus gave his powers willingly and went on to live the life of a wandering scholar, and often times a hermit.
Being more of an observing entity, Janus merely watched the ebb and flow of human life. It more so involved his unwavering ineptitude with societal interactions than wanting to observe in the first place. Thus, Janus stuck to the many libraries that dotted Europe and the many churches and cathedrals that hung their shadows in city squares. During this time, Janus took to books and knowledge, learning humanity, but never once truly living it.
However, one thing he did garner from his travels was the closeness he felt to humanity itself. Even standing from afar, Janus took to mortals more so than his own kind and grew ever guilty of the blood his people shed over petty desires and fruitless schemes. That wasn't to say he hated other deities, he just felt slightly biased in his opinion. That didn't quite stop his inquisitive nature and the loneliness he felt as the centuries passed by. Thus, Janus retained one power, extremely week in its ungodly state, like many of his own brethren, which Janus used to remedy his loneliness. Of course, being able to use doors as vocal points for teleportation never really gave him the desired outcome. None of his kind ever really paid attention to him, or found him annoying and rather too talkative, thus, most of his days were spent alone and with his nose buried in a book.
|Opinion on Mortals|
"It's nice to watch them. But, maybe I treat them too much like birds, instead of people."
Most of Janus interactions with humans could be explained in the span of an hour. This is taking into account centuries worth of interaction, which can only fill an hour of time. Most of these interactions were merely hellos, and accidental bumps, rather than in depth conversations, so they are quite numerous in quantity, but lack in quality. Whereas other, more social gods like Aphrodite, could spend years telling her tales of mortal men and women and inbetweens. But, Janus loves humanity, but he much prefers to watch, rather than participate.
|Theme Song|
No Place I'd Rather Be – Clean Bandits
”With every step we take, Kyoto to The Bay
Strolling so casually
We're different and the same, get you another name
Switch up the batteries”
|Favorite Myth|
Eros and Psyche
Mortal vs. Immortal
|Mortal Skills/Abilities|
Well, Janus has a keen sense of perception and can tell various cues apart from each other. However, he can't exactly tell you why something happens, especially if it happens to be something social. That being said, Janus retained his vast depository of useless knowledge. Okay, it's not useless, but there's a lot of stuff in his noggin detailing the intricate chemical compound of yeast and both why and how it grows. Another ability he'd gained is how to tell what properties a door has, what kind of metal or wood it is, how old it is, how sturdy it his. He could talk for days about doors, if only anyone would ask.
Regardless, Janus is well read, well educated, and perceptive of various things.
|Immortal Skills/Abilities|
Janus has always been able to travel through doors, just like Poseidon will always be able to talk to fish, though he doesn't really know why anyone would. They're dull creatures, aside from sharks, jellyfish, and shrimp. And it's not a normal traversal through doorways because anyone can do that. Janus, however, can pretty much pop up anywhere as long as there's a door that'll lead him there.
As his powers grow, Janus will gain his supernatural perception, which will grow into full blown clairvoyance, as well as foresight and hindsight. Thus, leaving him able to foresee various events in the future and pinpoint which path an individual is currently traveling on. Most of all, through these powers, Janus can tell the exact point a person's life will change, as well as end, sharing his ability with Hades. Of course, he doesn't know the exact date and time, just what the event will be. Of course, most of the time Janus doesn't like to spoil things for himself and would rather live the transition himself.
Lastly, Janus' combat capabilities lie in his utter control over portals which he can place and use anywhere between two points. The concept itself is pretty simple: Janus creates a portal beneath someone, they fall into, and are transported somewhere else... depending on if they're mortal or not, it's like out in space. Likewise, Janus can literally rip passages and archways into any concrete surface without harming the surface itself. So he makes doorways by forcing a surface open. This ability over portals will likely be the last of all of them to develop.
|Favorite Myth|
Eros and Psyche
"I like to pretend I have friends. But, I think I've come to realize that never really works out."
Umiko Ryudo || Ryūjin
"She's a lovely lady. I drop by sometimes for tea and sushi."
Hadrian Pryde || Hades
"I think I annoy him, but he's never asked me to leave, so... I think I'd like to stay."
In the past century or so, Janus hasn't known Hades to be anything but prickly, rude, and generally isolated. Most of his interactions beyond the last 10 or so years have been brief, almost nonexistent. Without the necessary tools to peel back that thorn covered layer, Janus has kept his distance as often as he could. How he came to stop by nearly every day, if only for a second, Janus couldn't quite say. Or, actually, he'd rather not say. Janus contains a good memory of change, of when it happens, and why it happens. Thus, it's no different when Janus noticed the change in Hades' demeanor and it all centered in the little boy he'd acquired. And, thus, Janus, in his usual loneliness, got a glimpse of what Hades looked like underneath all the gruff nonchalance and rude exterior.
To say he liked what he saw would be a vast understatement. It's a lot like how he'd come to be best friends with the Goddess of Love and Promiscuity and how she hasn't tried to sleep with him (again).
Thus, despite Hadrian's loud protests, James stays and if he catches a glimpse of a smile from the gloomy lord of the underworld, he won't say. Plus, his kids are the loveliest and Astra has come to call him Uncle James on many, if not all, occasions. He's caught Mikhael do the same, though, like his father, he immediately covers it with a furrow of his brow and a dirty scowl.
James owes a lot to the Prydes for (begrudgingly) welcoming him into their home. For the company he knows Hadrian wants and needs. For allowing him to help with the family's needs. He has a lot of time on his hands and doesn't know what to do with it, so spending time with a family that have slowly come to accept him as one of their own means a lot. Means a lot more than he's willing to let Hadrian know. For reasons. God of the Underworld has a big ego and, well, it'd do no good to fill it, right?
Sable Amasi || Bastet
"She doesn't know it, but sometimes I come by when I know she's not home just to pet her cats."
Amane Mikami || Benzaiten
"She teaches me Japanese! Watashi wa toire wa desu ka."
Ellen Dove || Aphrodite
"Hadrian tells me it's a bad idea, but she's probably one of my best friends. We drink so much wine together."
Hewitt Danford || Huitzilopochtli
"Oh, he's a scary man."
Andrew Jackley || Anubis
"Ellen and I call him Goobis. He's kinda awesome."
Jordan Natter || Jörmungandr
"He looks like a fun guy, but he's kinda mean."
Sebastian Morales || Maximón
"His cat is the best. He maybe not so much."
Regan Macguire || The Morrigan
"She doesn't like to talk to me much."
Kora Black || Persephone
"Hadrian keeps telling me not to talk to her. I don't know why?"
June Fallon || Nemesis
"I don't know if she likes to glare or if she's legit glaring at me."
Personification of the Moon
Basic Profile
|Name|
Máni Mundilfärison
|Alias(es)|
Emmanuel Welch
|Gender|
Male
|Sexuality|
Homosexual
|Relationship Status|
Single
|Pantheon/Faith|
Norse
|Occupation|
Mani has gone through several occupations, gone to college about twenty times. His most memorably time was when he went to Yale when it first founded to become a bishop for the local church. He found Catholicism interesting, but after a few years he tired of it.
Among the occupations and degrees he's gone through are: physics teacher, astronomer, bus driver, bartender, and manager at a Starbucks.
Recently, he's gone back to gather another Astronomy degree and currently works in an observatory for the University of Arizona.
"She's gone. She's really gone."
Appearance
|Godly Appearance|
Mani, unlike his sister, went to the skies without complaint and came, upon his chariot, shrouded in silver. It was said that the gods themselves felt hubris over both brother and sister, as their beauty radiated through day and night. So much so, that their father, Mundilfari, chose Máni, the moon, and Sól, the sun, as their names. Beautiful as they were, beauty only came as a curse and for their father's hubris they were punished. Before the fall of the gods, Mani shone bright in the sky while he glided around the moon in his chariot, a protector that the gods of the moon smiled at—and a companion to the ever lonely Chang'e, trapped just as he in endless rotations.
Other than his silver glow, a reflection of the moon, Mani doesn't differ much from mortals in his visage. He remains his height in both godly and mortal appearance (5'9"), as well as retaining the same physical build. His white curls fold under an iron viking helmet, with silver gilding along the eyes and down the bridge of his nose that shine with the dull grey of his irises. A matching torso of iron mail wraps around his chest, buttoned in clasps of jade given to him by the Chinese moon goddess. The ensemble fits together with his iron leggings and greaves, gilded and trimmed in silver along the edges and creases of the armor.
|Earthly Appearance|
Sharp, like a bird with creases of stress that wrinkle his visage, Mani strikes a crude resemblance to his godly self, and the individual that drove the Asgardians to jealousy. Crooked nose dips into thin, pursed lips that slide over white teeth in a grimace. Mani's cheeks are made for smiling, with their height and prominence, rosy in complexion and rounded perfect by the jowls framing the corners of his mouth. The wrinkles end at his jowls and smooth into an angled jawline that curves toward a narrow chin to neatly frame his face in a diamond. The features of his face embolden in the frame of dark brown, considered long for short hair that fall along the top and side of his hair in a lion's mane coif. Of all the features, Mani takes the greatest pride in his hair, keeping it healthy and perpetually soft to touch; and does Mani appreciate a welcomed touch through his wavy locks.
Mani's skin radiates a fair glow, pale in complexion but not strikingly so, from days away from the bright burn of the sun. It leaves his body in a similar hue, over a lean, muscular frame that accents broad shoulders and a more prominent chest. Mani's posture accentuates the more conspicuous parts of his body, which bounds with a careful, thought out poise. Many of Mani's mannerisms remain stilled and calm with a gentle motion to them; most everything Mani does is deliberate.
A near blinding obedience used to shield the emotions loose in his eyes, a vibrant blue backdrop for complacency. However, these passing days a single-minded determination colors the hues of his iris a dark midnight. Coming through in different shades, darker and darker as it goes, the blue radiates from the pupil in an angry burst of color that layer over each other as they fall into the whites of his eyes. They're cold and distant now, more like the blackness he once found a home in, yet without the bright stars that dot the abyss or the moon to reflect upon the sun's glory. They're ice. They're the depths of the ocean and unfathomable in their dimmed glow. Much like Mani himself remains an enigma, though his cause has never been more obvious.
"Life gives you lemons? You make like a rabbit and hop off."
Who Am I?
|Personality|
Prior to Ragnarok, as he and many other Norse gods call it, Mani took to his job with relative ease—Mundilfari always prided himself with an obedient son. Like the moon, Mani felt calm disposition lighten his veins, lessening the fear of being chased into eternity in an orbit around the celestial body. He supposes, he handled the situation a lot better than his sister ever did—or maybe worse? Sol had always expressed herself freely, let herself see the joys in life and they only ever saw each other in passing, when the moon's orbit brought it closest to the sun.
Looking back now, Mani feels more shame than anything. Why make excuses for gods driven by passion and hatred? That, of all things, Mani regrets the most. The moon itself isn't a cold being, not spiritually at least. Maybe lonely, as Chang'e and her Jade Rabbit were. Maybe disembodied like Coyolxahqui, betrayed by her family and a betrayer herself. Mani, though, of all beings trapped among the crude surface, felt the bond between he and the lunar body rip a part and the dread of impending oblivion sink in. Now, wandering earth in search of purpose, Mani only feels a cold hatred; ironic, as he was chased by Hati, the one who hates.
That coldness drives him further from the gods he sees now. No longer hindered by a filter of ignorance and willful naivety, Mani's hate runs for the deities that sent him to guard the moon in the first place. He shouldn't say guard. No, he was more bait than vanguard. And that hatred drives Mani, both further in his life and further into the ground. Somehow, it's okay, though, to be angry all the time. To just want to throw every piece of furniture out a 10 story window. Because anger feeds into determination, perseverance, a will to continue forward instead of going back or standing still. Mani refuses to remain idol, refuses to continue looking to the past, regardless of how much of it he holds on to; it's always forward for him and if he has to cut a few corners and run people out of his way, then Mani's more than willing.
|Family|
Sól - Sister. Supposedly deceased. Killed by Fenrir.
Mundilfari - Father.
|Strengths|
Nocturnal
Obedient
Learned
Determined
Conscientious
|Weaknesses|
Vindictive
Lost
Callous
Repressive
Overworks Self
|Likes|
Horses
Nightlife
Quiet/Solitude
Starbucks Frappes
Stargazing
|Dislikes
The Sun
White Fluorescent Lights
Heat
Mornings
Getting Out of Bed
|History|
The sky is burning.
The sky is burning. Cold ashen rays from the sun to melt the ocean and the earth in slow waves. The sky was burning and he could do nothing about it, driving the moon from spiteful Hati. These gods and their wars, pulling him and his sister into a fight they would have taken no part in. But, obedient Mani had no qualms. Obedient Mani had seen the Asgardians as heroes and leaders, obviously their decision concluded after many hard nights of reasoning. Prophecies and jealousy and hatred. They took them from their father and they cast them in chariots to guard the moon and the sun, ever chased by Fenrir's ilk—Sköll and Hati. Until prophecy dictated the wolves catch their quarry and devour them whole. He should have listened to his sister's hateful spite.
Events didn't quite unfold that way, at least not for Mani. For his sister, Sol, Sköll hadn't been the one to catch her, Fenrir did the deed and ate her whole. All the gods reigning dominion over the sun never once looked twice at the stalwart protector as her chariot fell from the skies, a comet and tear to rip open the sky. Yet, Mani hadn't heard of her death until he'd gotten free himself—hadn't realized the comet that fell to earth had been her chariot. His quarrels ended when the Shinto god of the moon, Tuskuyomi, intervened in the battle and chase with one swoop of his sword. The wolf Hati, burned by the sword and without a left hand, turned and fled to his father's side to aid in his battle.
Left to wander the skies in search of his sister, rather than the surveillance of the moon, Mani came to find no solace in the stars he called home. The gods of the sun gave him no head and so he, enraged, fell to the earth to discard his chariot and leave the moon without a sentinel to watch over. Luckily for him, Mani's timing occurred nearly perfectly, as once he landed the gods, as well as he, signed a pact to relinquish their powers. Thus, Mani's chariot would have been forced from his care regardless of his decision and thus left to roam the earth again, after millenia.
With no real word on his sister, Mani assumed her dead by the hands of Fenrir and thus he spent the next century or so finding the likely downgraded wolf to enact some kind of vengeance. Being near-human, however, that search came and went and Mani soon found himself tired and lost as to what to do. Thus, he moved along with humanity, content to learn and study and occupy his time, but still as lost as ever. He staid away from most gods, loathing most beings for both casting them to the sky and letting Sol perish. The only gods he ever had any real contact, and contentment with were those in the Shinto dominion, as they came to his aid when he needed it the most.
Bouncing from country to country to eventually continents, Mani finally settled somewhere in Arizona with another astronomy degree (since one from the 18th century seemed slightly phony) and a yearning to look back to the skies.
|Opinion on Mortals|
"I live among them. I at least care a little bit of what happens to them, and likely won't bargain their lives away, but other than dire situations, I don't much care for them."
Mani's relationship with mortals, in general, is rather indifferent. Of course, he would side with them in a heartbeat if the situation threatened their well being, but most of the time Mani doesn't pay them much attention. Maybe that's because he's a relative introvert, preferring his solitude over much else, as well as his work. Most humans don't pay him mind, as he's often hunched over papers, books, or preoccupied with a telescope or computer.
|Theme Song|
Cosmic Love – Florence + The Machine
”The stars, the moon, they have all been blown out
You left me in the dark
No dawn, no day, I'm always in this twilight
In the shadow of your heart”
"Is it bad that I have no idea what to do with myself?"
Mortal vs. Immortal
|Mortal Skills/Abilities|
With a drive and a purpose, anyone can do whatever it is their heart requests. For Mani, that meant quite a few things. The former god of the moon knows too much math for his own good, keeping himself routed in physics based calculus and graphing to aid in his astronomy work. Speaking of which, Mani would gladly discuss each and every one of the heavenly bodies, telescopes, satellites, how everything works out in space. He'll talk for days, if he's allowed to.
Aside from that, Mani is exceptionally skilled at driving, playing the piano, taking care of horses, horse riding, and coffee foam art.
|Immortal Skills/Abilities|
Mani didn't have an arsenal of godly weapons at his disposal. To be honest, he didn't and still doesn't have much. Of all things, though, Mani has speed and will out race almost anyone that's not Hermes or Mercury, especially in a vehicle. He still kind of retains that speed and the ability of enhanced perception whilst traveling at an inhuman velocity, so his reflexes and thoughts are infinitely better in fast situations.
One power he will regain is superhuman healing when in the moonlight, as well as night vision, and enhanced strength, senses, and reflexes. There's honestly not much else besides that.
At the end of his shift in power, Mani will be able to summon his chariot, which travels roughly the speed of a jet airplane, but when given the space to do so, i.e. in space, it can travel at light speeds. He also regains his shield, able to hold off even Fenrir for but a short time.
"I have never been so amazed at the idea of sleep. I do it so much now."
Serpent of the Wind, God of Rain, Winds, Creator of the World
Basic Profile
|Name|
Quetzalcohuātl
|Alias(es)|
Q'uq'umatz
Kukulkan
Waxaklahun Ubah Kan
Ehécatl
As of now he refers to himself as Querida Castillo; goes by Reed for short, most of the time.
|Gender|
Genderless. Uses masculine pronouns
|Sexuality|
Gray-A
|Relationship Status|
Single. Why would I trifle in meaningless affairs?
|Pantheon/Faith|
Mesoamerican
|Occupation|
Reed, since the fall of the Mesoamerican pantheon and the subsequent fall of gods themselves, has been busy at exploring various jobs. So far, he's gone through construction work to being a CFO to a large oil company stationed in Texas during the 1900s. Recently, though, Reed has taken to playing the piano, a hobby he'd picked up at the start of his 'mortal' life and has since been honing for centuries. He's preformed quite a bit in the 1920s, stopped, and started up during World War II. After the 60s, he saved up all his earnings and took a vacation for a few decades before opening a small business. It started off as a coffee shop in the 90s, gave that up in the 2000s and opened a lounge/bar in San Diego that catered to an older era, aesthetic wise. He lets various artists preform there, most of them unknown and most of them he personally likes. On occasion, he'll sing and play piano.
Appearance
|Godly Appearance|
Quetzalcoatl personifies fear, embodies it with every coil of his body and feather of his wings. Pyramids erected in his name, possessing exact time and day and sunlight, call to a beast of the wind and child of the heavens. Dwarfing even the dragons of the middle age, Quetzal more resembles the visage of the great king Ao Guang with his serpentine form. All sharp edges of green, turquoise, and gold, Quetzalcoatl's scales remind of the great Mayan pyramids with steps wide to the top
|Earthly Appearance|
How would they appear as a mortal from day to day life? What are their striking features? At least one solid paragraph.
Who Am I?
|Personality|
Who could be more of a snake than the giant snake himself?
Of all traits, Quetzalcoatl has always been known for his cunning. Of course, a lot of people like to call it assholery. Douchebag a la mode. Fuckboi with a side of asshat. Quetzalcoatl simply calls it, "I'm smarter than you." And, by leaps and bounds, Quetzal's intellect soars at great heights, maybe a little too great for his ego. Regardless, despite his usual pompous demeanor, Quetzal's mind looks at situations and issues more analytically than most people. His mind takes a problem and puts it in a database, catalogs it, and then searches for a solution all within the span of a few moments. That isn't to say he does this with every moment of his life and Quetzal has found that a lot of times, his solutions don't seem to fix the problem as a whole, but merely puts a tarp over it and calls it a day.
Supposedly, that leads to Quetzalcoatl's more relaxed nature. After so many years of strife, war, killing, sacrifices made in his honor, it's gotten to the point where Quetzalcoatl simply wishes to not care. For a while. For a good, long time. He's spent too long being serious and working up a persona that's far too exaggerated to resemble who he really is. And now, exhaustion seems to have caught him by the tail feathers and yanked him down into a weird complacency. A spot where Quetzal doesn't ever feel the need to exert his full effort or put his whole self into anything that he doesn't find personally enjoyable. Thus, Quetzal tires of things easily and people even more so. Many war gods (most of the Aztec pantheon, let's be real here) tend to attribute this to a lack of strife and battle, which he'll concede too because Quetzal isn't an argumentative person, even if they're entirely wrong. If he wants to win something, he'll do it his own way.
And then there's the part of Quetzalcoatl that shows just a glimpse of the great being he used to be. Not many people can match the vindictive streak that Quetzal has and will continue to pull off. Usually, the punishment fits the crime—or, at least it does so in Quetzal's mind. For too used to the cruel ways of the Aztec's, Quetzal's methods of getting back at someone can border on the sadistic and often leads to very nasty repercussions on his part. If a man is willing to mow down an entire nation back when he held the power, maybe it's not quite the best idea to get on his bad side. Because that's a lot of hatred to pour into just one person.
|Family|
Tezcatlipoca
Huitzilopochtli
|Strengths|
Clever
Persuasive
Elusive
Amiable
Attentive
|Weaknesses|
Clumsy
Hella Vindictive
Immoral
Ruthless
Repressive
|Likes|
Rum
Lounging
Sunbathing
Being Shirtless a Lot
Flying
|Dislikes
Being Grounded
Ursurpers
Mongoose
Being Woken Up
Swimming
|History|
None were quite as revered as he, upon his throne of stone and golden rays. He was the sun and the moon; the stars shone in his name, beating like the hearts carved upon his altar. And yet, for a king he did not fall with grace. When he fell, he took the world with him—world swallower. The ruination of kingdoms.
In the years passing, whilst the Aztecs reigned in warfare in doom and the Mayans held their culture until the waters fled them, Quetzalcoatl became ever more content with his waning thirst. From rejoicing in the hearts of his followers to throwing their offerings in disgust. Quetzalcoatl grew far more than most of his Mesoamerican brethren aimed to. But, bloodthirst was never a staple for the serpent, even when it felt nice to sink his fangs into something sweet enough that it popped.
It was this that Quetzalcoatl had been betrayed for. And the temples in his name seemed like dust with the people raising their shouts and battle cries to the serpent coiled around them. He supposed he owed much of this to his dear brother, who looked upon his throne and saw only the green of his scales from those slit eyes. And the jaguar whispered his deceit into the ears of the Mesoamerican people, of the damnation their king would bring them.
At that moment, neither of them knew of the truth.
He supposed it didn't matter, when his brother took him by the wings and shred them with fangs and teeth and claws and tossed him to the sea. Living, it seemed, was his brother's insult, like he spat upon his grave and told him he wasn't worth it. Quetzalcoatl seethed. He raged and the seas cried in anger with him. From there he tore through the ocean with something more than just his pride to heal.
When he arrived upon the coast of Portugal, Quetzalcoatl took to blending with the mortals easily, as many gods had done in the years that had passed. From there, Quetzalcoatl ventured to Spanish and made a name for himself, until Quetzalcoatl became Hernan Cortes and his eyes were set to the coast of Mexico. From there, the snake readied his venom and when he set sail all his eyes could see was the red of flames as Tenochtitlan burned to the ground.
Upon making ground, the people looked upon him as their returned god Quetzalcoatl and they couldn't have been more correct. To know that these people expected him after his own flesh and blood brother threw him to the sharks, that made it all the easier to continue the charade. And from there, Quetzalcoatl would uproot the Aztec people and burn them to the ground. From here on out, Quetzalcoatl saw only in red and he found it easier to massacre his own people than to think about exactly what crimes he was committing. It wasn't until he gutted the current ruler, Moctezuma, and set the Aztec people alight with rebellion did Quetzalcoatl finally understand the horrors and atrocities he'd committed. But, he'd come this far.
After making a hasty retreat, Quetzalcoatl regrouped his men and turned their advance once more upon the island city of Tenochtitlan. From afar, with his back turned to the flames, his home came under siege and was finally brought to its knees. He claimed it for the Spanish and the Aztecs dispersed, the nation toppled, and the few remaining willingly bowing to their Spanish conquerors.
The memory, to this day, remains locked away in the deep orifices of Quetzalcoatl's mind. He went through various trials then, quickly shedding his title as Cortes and becoming a man of his own. Without revenge and vendetta plaguing his thoughts, Quetzalcoatl was free to do as the other gods had done. He made a life for himself, though he often hopped from here to there, working through jobs and the various enterprises, but mostly getting bored of them and the people.
He went from Mexico to the states in the early 1900s, quickly picking up the piano and finding a nice niche in the growing, industrial boomtown of New York City. He made something out of himself, lost his mind in the music, and eventually went through various tours, disappeared, and did the exact same thing under a new alias. It wasn't until he'd gotten tired of the constant travel and audience that Quetzalcoatl came up with the name Querido Castillo, finished out a great year for his career, and finally settled on a business that quickly turned into something big on the West Coast. Well, big for a small business. It was nice enough. Not too prestigious, but not too much of a hole in the wall that he was scrambling for money.
And now, he doesn't really know what he'll do with himself.
|Opinion on Mortals|
"Silly things, humans are. One moment they're willing to gut a man to appease a god and the next they're willing to stab someone to death to steal a wallet full of nothing."
Quetzalcoatl both appreciates human beings for what they are, but also looks down upon them. Of course, the latter part is often of the more subtle variety, since he's not the top to go flaunting his fallen godhood, but, for the most part, it's still pretty evident. Plus, they're gullible and mean and treacherous. Despite that, they'd have to do quite a bit to cause Quetzal to rain down his ire for a second time. It'd have to be big, but he doesn't doubt that they're capable.
Most of all, though, Quetzalcoatl has a deep regret for what he's done and if he should ever lose that control again, he's not quite sure he could handle being sober, much like what The Morrigan has become.
|Theme Song|
Pompeii – Bastille
”We were caught up and lost in all of our vices
In your pose as the dust settled around us”
Mortal vs. Immortal
|Mortal Skills/Abilities|
What skills have they picked up that lie outside the realm of their godly abilities? Also, what residual effects do their powers have on mortals? Aphrodite being attractive, Apollo being a great guitar player and so on.
|Immortal Skills/Abilities|
While the deities begin to regain their powers, slowly, what is it that your character will be able to do/how can they influence the world in supernatural ways? Bear in mind these will be weakened forms to begin with. Eg. Zeus can’t reign down thunder and murder entire cities, but he can probably cast it at one person; Hermes can run at incredible speed, but not to the extent he could as a God...
The Eight Legged Horse of Odin
Basic Profile
|Name|
Sleipnir
|Alias(es)|
Stephen Lord
|Gender|
Male
|Sexuality|
Demisexual Homoromantic
|Relationship Status|
Single
|Pantheon/Faith|
Norse
|Occupation|
|Godly Appearance|
A written description of your character’s appearance as an immortal, or how they otherwise differed from normal humans. Some might even have taken an animal or animalistic form. Include traditional weapons or armor that have become their symbols.
|Earthly Appearance|
How would they appear as a mortal from day to day life? What are their striking features? At least one solid paragraph.
Am I?
|Personality|
What kind of person is your character? What are their motivations? How do they interact with people around them? Also include things like how they’ve changed ever since they’ve transitioned into mortal life. Have they gotten kinder? Meaner? Etc
Be sure to write in flaws! Absolutely no Mary Sues/Gary Stus
|Family|
Loki - Father
Svaðilfari - Mother
Fenrir - Half-Brother
Jormungandr - Half-Brother
Hel - Half-Sister
|Strengths|
At least 5
|Weaknesses|
At least 5
|Likes|
At least 5
|Dislikes
At least 5
|History|
Obviously a gloss on what they’ve done in human history since coming into existence. Must include what they were known for, how they reacted to the agreement to give up their powers, and what they have done since as a pseudo-mortal.
|Opinion on Mortals|
What do they think about other mortals, who have no knowledge of the gods? What do they think about being one of them – sort of?
|Theme Song|
Song – Artist
”A few lyrics here, please.”
|Favorite Myth|
What's your favorite story from any mythology or religion. If you don't have one, any book will do!
vs. Immortal
|Mortal Skills/Abilities|
What skills have they picked up that lie outside the realm of their godly abilities? Also, what residual effects do their powers have on mortals? Aphrodite being attractive, Apollo being a great guitar player and so on.
|Immortal Skills/Abilities|
While the deities begin to regain their powers, slowly, what is it that your character will be able to do/how can they influence the world in supernatural ways? Bear in mind these will be weakened forms to begin with. Eg. Zeus can’t reign down thunder and murder entire cities, but he can probably cast it at one person; Hermes can run at incredible speed, but not to the extent he could as a God...
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3,161
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Andrew lifted up the green sheet to inspect the body. It was a young girl, who’d died in a car crash. It had been a tragic accident, and caused by a drunk driver. All her wounds had been stitched up, and she looked peaceful, as if she was just sleeping.
Sighing, he reached over to the table and got the disinfectant. The techniques of embalming had changed dramatically over the centuries, and he had to say, it was a lot less squeamish now then back in Ancient Egypt. There was no brain scooping for one thing.
Massaging her muscles gently, he felt the tense knots relax. His hands were quick and deft in their movements, and he wondered idly whether he could take on a job as a masseuse if he wanted to.
He looked up as Hel came in, a smartphone pressed to her ear and a rare anger expressed on her face. Rather than saying anything, she was deathly quiet, placing a stray curly lock behind her ear as she listened patiently for the other to finish. She didn’t bother to even glance at her employee, but rather stalked the room, her heels clacking against the floor and her pencil skirt and button-up looking odd amongst the corpses of the room.
“No, you listen here you douchebag.” Hel finally hissed into the phone, grabbing at the table to lean her weight on as she scowled at whatever the other said. “I will bury you! You hear me? If you even think I’ll let you near my daughter after you slept with that mediocre, bimbo slut than you have another thing coming, Kent. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a job to do, unlike you I actually work instead of getting blown by a goddamn secretary!”
Hel hung up the phone, slamming it onto the table, not even flinching when an audible crack was heard. It was only then that she seemed to notice Anubis’ presence and she straightened herself up, repositioning her blazer and smoothing down the rage-wrinkles on her forehead. As if a switch was flipped, her face went from the revenge-depraved desperation that only a scorned woman could possess to a passive coldness, radiating business and brevity.
“Andrew,” She said, her voice carefully controlled with neither a quiver nor an influx of volume, “How is the girl? Any complications? The funeral is in a day or two.”
Her eyes glanced around the funeral home. It was a pristinely white room with a perpetual chill, to keep the bodies well preserved, and no decorations except for a kitten hanging from a string with the words “hang in there” could be seen. Hel hated that picture with a passion, but kept it around in order to ease her daughter when she came around. The air was dry and light, and the rather cheap light fixtures that hung from the ceiling on sturdy chains were harsh and bright, like the annoying ones found in hospitals and mentally-unstable homes. The room was occupied with long, thin, silver metal tables in which blue corpses slept. Overall, the room reminded Hel of death, but not the dark cold death that she was used to.
Andrew nodded, face blank but eyes betraying his concern as he looked sideways at Helena. She’d been doing this more often as of late, screaming down her phone and then acting as if nothing had happened. It worried him just how much more tired she looked, when she thought that he wasn’t looking.
“It’s coming along fine. She’ll be ready for the funeral in no time at all.” Hands gently moving the girls mouth into a neutral expression, he peeled off his gloves and face mask. It was just as he was setting everything back into place when he felt it. It was like a cold wave that washed over him, loss, despair, and the acrid tang of death that lingered in his mouth long after it had passed.
He stumbled in shock, and looked towards Hel in alarm, mouth agape.
“Did you...did you feel that?”
Hel’s breath swept out from her and she leaned onto one of the gurneys, her brown hair falling into her blue eyes. Anubis’ words barely registered in her ears, but a vague understanding dawned on her and she nodded, swallowing heavily around the lump in her throat, “Yes.”
He furrowed his brow and tried to pinpoint the source of that sudden swell of power. A god, certainly, but not a minor one. As it dissipated, he chased after last remaining tendrils, and recoiled when he found a void in which there once was knowledge and power and strength.
“It was Odin. Or at least, I think it was. Can you tell?” He was going to start rambling at any minute, he just knew it, and he clamped his mouth shut, chewing on his bottom lip nervously.
“Odin?” Hel muttered, reaching into the depths of her thoughts, trying to remember Odin’s godliness that had been ingrained in her mind since she was a child. She remembered everything about him, to his domineering personality to the stench of war that radiated from him. Hel smiled a terrifying grin, bringing a perfectly manicured nail to her lips and gnawed at the tip. “Yes, yes it is Odin.”
Then, to herself, she mumbled, “Odin’s gone.” The two words were uttered with such relieving glee and horrifying satisfaction.
Anubis frowned at her and hit her arm gently. “Helena! If you’re not going to be sympathetic, at least think about what could have done this. There’s hardly anything that can kill a god, even as a human.”
He knew that she had good reason to hate the god, there was no doubt about that. But it had freaked him out, that sudden wash of death. It was something that he hadn’t felt in a millenia, and it had brought back memories of his time as god, when that feeling had been almost constant. Part of the job description. Feeling it now had immediately set off warning bells in his mind, and he suddenly really wanted a glass of water to wash that taste out of his mouth.
“There isn’t much we can do, Anubis.” Hel said after a moment of silence, crossing her arms over her chest. “Let’s leave it to the other gods...the gods who haven’t moved on to another life. I don’t have time to endanger my children while messing around with a dead godking.”
Anubis sighed, resigned to the fact that she didn’t want any part in anything that might happen. He had just turned back to organising the tools, when the door swung open. Except it wasn’t just the door back into the main area of the funeral home anymore. A large hall could be seen, far too large and grandiose for his tastes, but the aura flooding off it was unmistakeable.
His hushed whisper was disbelieving. “Asgard…?”
Hel nearly startled at the sound of the door opening, but managed to keep the surprise down with the help of instant disdain as the familiarity washed over her. Asgard was never her home - Odin made that perfectly clear - but it belonged to a past life that Hel really did not want to return to. But she knew what the opening of the door meant: she no longer had a choice. Knowing that Odin was dead, she could turn away from it and never give it another thought, except when she needed a nice pick-me-up from a long, exhausting day. Being summoned by the other deities? That was bad news of itself.
“Why can’t we just be left alone?” Hel sighed in resignation, smoothing back her hair as she began to approach the door. She turned to look at her employee, offering a small, reluctant smile. “Well? Are you coming?”
Hurrying to stand at her side, he nodded, fiddling with his shirt. “Yup. All ready to go.”
And they both walked through into the hall, joining the other gods who were stepping hesitantly out of their own doors. It was exactly as he remembered, reminiscent of a time long since past. His feet carried him towards an empty chair, and he nodded absent mindedly to various faces that he recognised. As he sat, he turned his head to talk to Hel.
“That’s Tyr isn’t it? Been awhile since I saw him around.”
“Hmm.” Hel acknowledged, nodding her head slightly to confirm his suspicions. “Looks like he never replaced his hand, or lack thereof. My brother will be excited to see him...I just hope he won’t start something, today has been exhausting as it is.”
Hel leaned back into her seat, scanning the other deities around the table. She saw some that she recognized, more that she didn’t - or didn’t care to try to know - and Hel smiled smugly, feeling rather superior to the lowlifes that some of them had become. Hel didn’t bother looking for her family, knowing that they would come to her when they felt like it.
The murmurs of the deities around him were hushed as Tyr started to speak. Anubis’ eyes were immediately drawn to the cloaked statue beside him, narrowing with suspicion at what it might be.
When Janus showed him to be Odin, he was hardly surprised, but his lips tightened. It wasn’t a pretty sight, and he turned back to Tyr to listen to the rest of his speech.
|
Anubis
God of the afterlife, mummification, lost souls and the weighing of the heart.
Basic Profile
|Name|
Anubis
|Alias(es)|
Anapa
Andrew (Andy) Jackley
|Gender|
Male
|Sexuality|
Pansexual
|Relationship Status|
Single
|Pantheon/Faith|
Egyptian
|Occupation|
An embalmer, because it might be cliche but he really is good at it. Works at Hansen's Funeral Home.
|Godly Appearance|
Reference The most noticeable difference between forms, was obviously the jackal's head that he had. It had been a trend for all of them to have various animal heads, and thought it made it a bit harder to talk, it was quite striking. He did have a human body however, and his skin was liberally tanned from the desert. He didn't spend all of his time down in the underworld. He still had to watch over the mummification process. He wore golden armour that covered his neck, along with shoulder plates. Not so comfortable in the hot egyptian sun, but it made him seem very important.
|Earthly Appearance|
Andrew stands at about 5'9" but has the worst posture you could believe. Always hunching his shoulders, you would believe him if he said he was 5'7". With dark curly hair and just a shade less tanned then he was when he had his godly formed, he's easily unassuming and blends into the crowd easily. He doesn't like attracting very much attention, and tries his best to go unnoticed wherever he might be.
Never one to pay that much attention to his physical state, he'll often take less then 10 minutes to be dressed and ready. Andy keeps his hair short to avoid having any trouble with it, and in the right light it can look coarse and clumped, much like a dog's. But then he'll turn his head and it'll just be messy hair once more. He has a small tattoo of an ankh on his upper right arm.
Am I?
|Personality|
Andrew is good-natured, playful and loyal to a fault. Somehow, even after spending so long among the dead, he still manages to be optimistic. He works best in a small group of people however, and he can withdraw when faced with large crowds. He doesn't find it that hard to make friends, but very much harder to keep them. Flighty and easily obsessed with things, he can rarely stay still for very long. He claims that he had to stay still rather long enough whenever souls were being weighed to see if they were worthy.
Andy isn't a very good listener. He'd like to be, and he tries his best, but if he isn't required to say anything, he normally starts daydreaming and thinking about something other then whatever he's meant to be thinking about. Instead of tapping or jiggling his foot around when he's bored however, he normally starts humming, or whistling, which isn't a very good thing to slip into when he's supposed to be quiet. It's gotten him shushed angrily more then a couple of times, yet he can't, or won't break the habit.
If he does manage to properly make a friend however, they can be rest assured that he'll always have their back. He'll stick with you through thick and thin with no complaints, and there's no question about staying in touch. E-mail, texting, even snail mail won't stop him from at least checking up on them. It is a problem whenever he makes a human friend, because whenever they die, he makes a point of being the one to embalm them. Then he can be sure that it's been done properly.
|Family|
Osiris-Anubis' father. They have a good relationship, Anubis having helped rule the Duat (Egyptian afterlife) for many, many years. He was often too serious for his own good and Anubis helped to balance that out, and get him outside once in a while, rather then just staying cooped up in the underworld.
Isis- Although she isn't his biological mother, he considers her as such. She raised him, and taught him how to use magic-although he was never good at it-and was a constant fixture in his life.
Ammit- Anubis' now pet lizard. She can't devour human hearts any more, only insects and mice on occasion. She keeps him company and sits on his shoulder most of the time.
|Strengths|
Good improviser
Loyal
Friendly
Honest
Trustworthy
|Weaknesses|
Impulsive
Unorganized
Flighty
Impatient
Daydreamer
|Likes|
Reptiles
Sweet hot cocoa
Charcoal drawings
Playing the violin
Autumn
|Dislikes
Spring- Andrew has hay fever.
Fighting
Crowds
Whining
Eagle because Horus is a giant dick.
|History|
Anubis, even though prominent in Egyptian culture, was never included in the stories and myths they told. He was just another minor god, and he was happy to keep it that way. People weren't afraid of him. After all, he was known for guiding people safely through the afterlife, at least, until their souls had to be weighed. But that was the price for eternal peace. You had to be worthy of it.
He spent a lot of times with humans even before he was informed they had to become one of them, although he'd never been friends with any of them. Anubis would disguise himself in a mortal form and simply walk among them. He enjoyed talking to them as they traveled through the underworld with him, calming them down past their hysteria. Watching over embalmers carefully as they prepared the bodies, making sure everyone got a fair burial. He agreed that it was for the best if they were reduced to myths and legends.
Truth be told, Anubis hadn't enjoyed the sudden increase of souls that he'd had to escort to the underworld. Too many people to care for, and not enough time had left him just trying to keep up with the flow and not leaving wandering souls on the earth.
He hadn't changed much as a human. Ammit had decided to stay with him, so he wouldn't be alone. They traveled a lot, and he made many friends and felt grief for the first time when one of his closer friends had passed. Frustrated and angry at his inability to guide them himself, he'd secluded himself for months, before realizing that even if he couldn't escort them himself, he could still give them a proper burial. So he learned how to embalm properly and gave people the most comfort he could in their passing.
|Opinion on Mortals|
"I like humans. They're always changing their minds and creating new things. They do go so easily though..."
Anubis makes a point to have a couple of human friends. It gets harder when they start to show more obvious signs of aging and he doesn't, purely because he likes the way he looks in this form and he slowed his aging down as much as possible anyway. He hates having to cut himself off from them, but it's easier that way. And besides, that doesn't stop him from keeping an eye on them. It's horrible when any of them die, and he hates it. He swears he can feel it, even though none of them even believe in him.
|Theme Song|
Always look on the bright side of life – Monty Python
”So always look on the bright side of death.
Just before you draw your terminal breath.”
|Favorite Myth|
Zeus and Ganymede
vs. Immortal
|Mortal Skills/Abilities|
Andy learnt how to play the cello before the violin, but preferred the latter, saying that the sound of the cello was far too gloomy for his taste. He has no qualms about the double bass however, as he loves the swing/jazz style music of the 1930's. He learnt how to fight with a bo staff on a whim, then got into it very quickly, as it was quite similar to the polearm that he used to fight with.
He also learnt how to sketch with charcoal sticks, loving the smudgy texture of them. Although he isn't a master at it, he enjoys sitting down and drawing every once in a while, as it's very calming.
|Immortal Skills/Abilities|
Anubis used to be able to travelling easily between the afterlife and the world of the living, but his power to do that is more limited now. He can travel about half a kilometer by using the gateways between worlds, before becoming too exhausted to do it any more.
He was able to judge souls, and could see them in people as a kind of glow around them. The system was simple, light to dark, best to worst. He doesn't mind it, and it'll be easier for him to be a judge of character with this skill. He has some hesitation in thinking of seeing his friends souls however, and he hopes that they all are actually nice people. He will like having the power to guide souls through the veil however, as before he didn't know for sure whether his loved ones did move on properly.
He doesn't have that many powers that would be good for fighting, as he was always quite a passive god.
Anubis
"I like people, but sometimes that isn't such a good thing."
James Alfero - Janus
"Apart from unflattering nicknames, and giving me heart attacks from popping out of nowhere, I'd say I like talking to him."
James drops in quite a lot, and most often when he's just about to pick up his violin. He's been bugging him about teaching him how to play the cello, so that they can play together. It's probably because he's seen Sable and him mucking about. He's always laughed and said that he's a horrible teacher, but it's not that bad of an idea, really. It's always nice to play a little duet, and besides, James learns quickly enough.
Apart from that, he and Ellen enjoy tormenting him almost constantly. When they're drunk, sober, or anything in between. He'll sigh, and make a face, but he'll let them in anyway. Ellen's been trying to get him to drink some more alcohol, but he says he gets giggly enough on sugar, and besides, he's had a hangover before and it's the absolute worst.
Amane Mikami - Benzaiten
"What would your character will say out loud about this person here"
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Ellen Dove - Aphrodite
"I don't think I'm her type. It's kind of gratifying and disappointing, you know?"
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Hadrian Pryde - Hades
"We connect over the whole 'death gods' thing. He's frustrated as I am about souls not moving on properly."
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Hewitt Danford - Huitzilipochtli
"Hewitt is violent, and crass. I don't know why on earth Persephone puts up with him."
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Sebastian Morales - Maximón
"Sebastian is nice. I liked him as a god but...I think he's kind of scared of me."
This is how it went. Anubis went to collect souls. Maximón healed them. And really, being a god of death, he might've been a little more angry about this. But he really wasn't. No matter how much he liked talking to people, he liked them more when they were alive. That isn't to say he thought that people shouldn't die however, as they absolutely had to, to keep the order of things. But it was nice to see the better ones getting a couple more years in their arsenal.
He hasn't seen Maximón since they all became mortal, but he does want to meet him. Andy has an inkling that he thinks that he doesn't like him because he keeps healing people that would've died otherwise.
Sable Almasi - Bastet
"I like her cats, and I like playing music with her. I think Ammit misses being a lion when we hang out."
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Regan Macguire - The Morrigan
"She's what you think of, when someone mentions a god of death."
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Kora Black
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Sable Amasi
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June Fallon
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Emmanuel Welch
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Nicole Harrow
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Lawrence Lafferty
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Querido Castillo
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Stephen Lord
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Wolfgang Reinhardt
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Helena Hansen
"She's a great boss. Really pretty but...I don't think she knows..."
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Jean-François Salomon
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Jormungand
The Midgard serpent
Basic Profile
|Name|
Jormungand
|Alias(es)|
World Serpent
Midgard Serpent
Jordan Natter
|Gender|
Male
|Sexuality|
Homosexual
|Relationship Status|
Single
|Pantheon/Faith|
Norse
|Occupation|
An Underwater Photographer/filmer.
|Godly Appearance|
Reference Jormungand is a literal giant snake. He's mainly a muddy green colour, with a white underbelly. He has too many teeth then really necessary, and ridges along his spine. It would be an understatement to say he was large. Technically, he wrapped around the entire earth, so that might give you an idea. He wasn't biting his tail all the time by the way. It was just like when a kid bites their hair, or fingernails. He was bored, and there was nothing to do but eat the occasional shark, and even that got gross. Too much seafood to be healthy for sure.
|Earthly Appearance|
Jordan is incredibly vain. He will spend hours making himself look nice, and preening whenever someone compliments his appearance. Outer appearance is really what matters in the world. First impressions are vital after all, and if you look dishevelled and like you've just rolled out of bed, what are people going to think? Unless you're an undiscovered genius, that doesn't really pass. He has a serpent tattoo that curls around his back and arm, that looks like it's going in and out of him. Tattoo
He has dark hair that's just a little wavy, and dark brown eyes. He has a swimmers body type, which makes sense as he's in the water almost every day for his job. He's quite tanned from being out in the sun, and frequently forgets to put on sunscreen. It's lucky that he isn't the type to burn. His facial expressions are almost comical in their extremities. Disgust, shock, happiness, it's all very visible. Which isn't to say it's just what he wants you to see.
Am I?
|Personality|
Jordan has been described by many people as a sneaky bastard. He's got things he wants, and will do anything to get them. He's stubborn like that. If he wants it badly enough, there's nothing he won't do for it either. Aside from murder, but that is debatable. He's kind if it serves a purpose, and isn't if it's pointless. He's the opposite of socially awkward however, with a charismatic air about him that's almost irresistible to almost anyone.
He does have a volatile temper however, and he's very calm right up until he isn't. When he snaps, it's like a hurricane of emotions. He shouts and he smashes things, but he doesn't hit people. That's the one thing he won't do. If he does get that angry, he'll normally storm out of wherever he is, make a giant scene like the drama queen he actually is and drive to the nearest beach. He always has a pair of swimming trunks for situations like this, and he'll just let go for a while in the water.
|Family|
Loki- His father, which explains his fiery temper, and his penchant for lying. He misses him, badly.
Hel-His older sister. She's considerably more calm then he is, to the point where it's almost scary how serene she is. She's managed to become really successful-god knows how-and is practically rolling in cash. But obviously, she's saving it. Responsibly.
Fenrir- His younger brother. If Jormungand has a temper, it's nothing compared to Fenrir. He's dog trainer. At least that's what he says. Jordan knows better. Fenrir isn't exactly the best at being sneaky, but he does hide it pretty well. He's always angry, and he's gone through 3 therapists already for anger issues.
Sleipnir- His oldest sibling, he doesn't see much of him at all. The last he remembers of him, is how he just stood there, Odin sitting high and mighty on his back and watching as he was thrown into the ocean, too young to fight back. It was a massive betrayal, and it still stings if he thinks about it. He's made no effort to find out about him.
|Strengths|
Intelligent
Smooth-talker
Manipulative
Ambitious
Self-assured
|Weaknesses|
Selfish
Stand-offish
Arrogant
Greedy
Vain
|Likes|
Swimming
Aquariums
Expensive things
Summer
Snakes
|Dislikes
Seafood
Having no control
Small spaces
Thunderstorms
Heights
|History|
Jormungand had a...difficult childhood. If difficult was being thrown into an ocean because you were prophesized to kill a god, and therefore separated from your entirely family was a difficult childhood. He was alone for a long time. His whole teenager faze went by under the ocean, just swimming around and being angry about generally everything. There were a lot of water related incidents those years.
He was psyching up to fighting Thor when the news came about turning everyone into humans. And he wasn't an idiot, he knew full well that he'd die when Thor did. There was no way he wasn't going to become a giant barbecued snake. Since that wasn't a viable option, because he did like being alive, and he was indeed a coward with no sense of courage at all, he chose to be a human.
The first most noticeable change for him, was actually having limbs. And being one of the tiny humans that he'd enjoyed terrorizing so much. Walking had been hard, he'd wobbled around like a newly born foal. But then he'd relished the chance to eat everything that wasn't something that lived under the sea. So a chef he became. Surprising career choice for a giant serpent.
Nowadays he works as a underwater filmer/photographer, and has a secluded house on a private beach.
|Opinion on Mortals|
"Oh man the way they screamed when they saw my spikes! I used to flick their legs every once in a while, just to give them a shock."
|Theme Song|
Bloodsport - Raleigh Ritchie
With a smile on my face as their heads hit the floor
And their done now it's curtains the bloodlust's a clusterfuck it hurts but it's working
And even if you ask me to stop it's too late because I've already decided their fate
|Favorite Myth|
The creation of Mjolnir
vs. Immortal
|Mortal Skills/Abilities|
Jordan's had to learn to swim the human way. With arms and legs, and isn't that just so weird? He still prefers the butterfly stroke, because at least that's kind of how he used to move. He likes cooking, it's a nice variation from just raw fish all the time.
He's always shied away from combat, now he doesn't have strength and giant teeth to help him. He was thrilled at the invention of guns, but still learned karate. Fencing is in a word, useless nowadays, but it was fun while it lasted. Fancy twirls of the wrist and moving fast had been his strengths after all.
|Immortal Skills/Abilities|
He had the power to create storms, whirlpools and earthquakes. His scales were also rock-solid, preventing virtually any harm to come to him, apart from Thor, obviously. He also had some grasp of magic, and could make himself invisible, which was particularly useful when tipping over boats. He could also disguise himself as something else altogether, but didn't do so regularly. His venom was also lethal.
Jordan Natter
"Just cause I look pretty, doesn't mean I'm a pushover."
Umiko Ryudo - Ryujin
"Oh we get along like peas in a pod."
Jordan only has a couple of real friends in the world. He likes Ryujin more then any of them. She used to keep him company sometimes, when he got particularly lonely underneeath the water. She's seen him cry more then once, and is probably the only person Jordan trusts enough to cry around. They have tea parties every once in a while, and he loves hanging out with Nagisa. She enjoys his cupcakes. They go swimming together quite a lot as well, which is always nice because otherwise he'd have to do it alone.
James Alfero - Janus
"Pretty sure we've gotten absolutely shit-faced together. Fact-I am a mean drunk.
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Amane Mikami - Benzaiten
"She's got a nice taste in clothes, and she's a snake (kind of) so of course I like her!"
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Ellen Dove - Aphrodite
"You know, I did question my choice of sexuality when I first saw her. And I never question myself."
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Hadrian Pryde - Hades
"I just loved sending terrified souls his way. Reputation, you know?"
Surprisingly enough, Jordan didn't get to know lots of people under the water. But he did enjoy finding ambitious deep sea divers and scaring them out of their wits. He didn't really care which god it went to, but he did spend a lot of time on the Greek/Romans coastlines.
After they met, he thinks that Hades-Hadrian now-was still a little nervous. So what if he flicked out his snake tongue? Or made his teeth just a little sharper? Just because he was human now, he wasn't going to let his hard earned reputation go to waste now.
Hewitt Danford - Huitzilipochtli
"He's alright I guess. I think he only likes me cause I'm a giant snake, but whatever."
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Sebastian Morales - Maximón
"Oh we're quite alike you know. I honestly wouldn't be suprised if we turned out to be related."
Jordan and Sebastian have an okay relationship. They have similar taste in clothes and they're both almost insufferably egotistical. It's the perfect combination honestly. And he's great at holding his liquor! He tends to try and refrain from drinking too much, as he fuzzily remembers an incident with a homophobe and punching him very hard in the face. He's fairly sure he had to be dragged out. See, he can't keep a lid on it when he's inebriated, so he only ever has enough to get buzzed.
He's pretty sure that he's only lost it completely front of him a couple of times. He's also sure that that's the reason why Max can't hang out with him anymore without looking a little nervous.
Kora Black
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Sable Amasi
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June Fallon
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Emmanuel Welch
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Nicole Harrow
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Lawrence Lafferty
"Sometimes...sometimes I wonder whether he really made an effort to get us back."
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Querido Castillo
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Stephen Lord
"What you character will say out loud about this person here"
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Wolfgang Reinhardt
"What you character will say out loud about this person here"
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Helena Hansen
"She got thrown away like the rest of us. But she got to be a goddess."
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Jean-François Salomon
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|
3,162
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| 202
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AND
Location: The Aurora, Los Angeles, California → Asgard
Interaction: Each Other
Jordan sat back heavily in his chair, rubbing his eyes. A large photo was in the middle of the glowing computer screen in front of him. The underbelly of a stingray plastered across it in high definition. It was in a striking monochrome, light filtering in over the wings of the sea creature. He’d been hunched over his desk for far too long, and there was a crick in his back because of it.
Stretching, he looked at the clock and made a face. It wasn’t too late, really, but he doubted anyone would be willing to make plans with him on such short notice…
A grin flashed onto his face and he made a grab for his phone and tapped the phone icon, his fingers beating out a rhythm on his legs. The ringing went on for a few seconds before it was picked up.
“Hey, Sebastian! Yeah it’s me. Aw, did I wake you up from a nap?”
Smirking, he opened up his wardrobe, eyes flicking over the multitude of outfits kept within it. Muffled complaints were heard from his phone and Jordan chuckled as he threw a shirt onto the bed.
“Come on, stop being such a downer. I just finished a really good picture, and I wanna celebrate. And don’t tell me you aren’t available or some bullshit, I know you have nothing better to do.”
Pressing the phone against his shoulder as he held up a pair of pants against the shirt, he squinted, then shook his head derisively. Tossing them aside, he retrieved another pair.
“Yeah, yeah, you have to get presentable, what do you think I’m doing?”
Hopping as he pulled on his pants, he looked in the mirror and ran a hand through his hair. Not too bad.
Jordan did, in fact, wake him up from a nap, but seeing as how he was still asleep at 7 P.M. on a weekday? He probably deserved the rude awakening. The voice buzzing at him through his cellphone barely registered, though his sleep-addled brain did manage to make out a few keywords: the most important of them being “celebrate”.
Of course, Sebastian being Sebastian, the thought of boozing it up at a club pounding with awful dance music was enough to make him reconsider saying “fuck you” to Jordan, and climbing back into bed. There weren’t a lot of things (or people) he’d make an exception for, but as much as he hated to admit it, having a drink or two with Jordan was one of them.
After putting up a token protest for appearance’s sake (he didn’t want to seem too eager now, did he?), he mumbled out an affirmative, and decided that he should probably start working on making himself look less like death.
Almost painfully slowly, he trudged around his disaster zone of a room, grabbing whatever he needed, like the world’s worst scavenger hunt. A comb, hairspray, and most miraculously, a pristine, navy-blue suit that he’d just retrieved from the dry cleaner’s. For a moment, he contemplated dressing down. After all, his hangover felt like an icepick lodged in his brainstem, and the last thing he needed was to throw up all over himself after one too many tequila shots.
This intense, internal deliberation, however, manifested itself outwardly as nothing more than a slight furrowing of the brow, and after a few, long moments, the inexplicable need to be a snappy dresser won out. Suit it was, then, he thought as he unzipped the plastic garment bag. Overdressing was always, always better than underdressing, and he’d be damned if he let Jordan one-up him.
Jordan slid his phone out of his pocket as he stood outside the club. Rearranging the scarf on his neck, he sent a quick text to Sebastian. ‘Here. where r u.’
Just as he sent it, however, he spotted him weaving his way around some other people on the sidewalk. He walked to greet him, and gave his outfit a once over.
“Huh. Haven’t seen that suit before. Nice colour.”
Sebastian just crooked an eyebrow at the compliment, his own gaze sweeping appraisingly over Jordan’s getup.
“You’re not so bad yourself, kiddo.”
Not even he was sure where ‘kiddo’ came from. Jordan, and the rest of the Norse pantheon, were what, a couple millennia older than him? But after being stuck on the mortal plane for so long, he was starting to accept their newfound personas as a fact of life. For all intents and purposes, Jordan looked to be significantly younger than him, and to be honest, he found his disdainful expression to be quite amusing when he addressed him by the moniker.
Briefly, he glanced towards the inside of the club - ribbons of glowing blue and green lights shining through the glass windows. Throngs of people were already starting to file inside, the promise of a great Friday night spent with friends spurring their movements. For a moment of two, he let his gaze linger, though it just as quickly flickered back to Jordan, the corner of his lips turning up into a wry smirk.
“Well, unless standing out here all night is your idea of fun, we best be getting inside.”
It was crowded inside, as was to be expected. Loud, thumping music had already begun to play, and he waved over a bartender. Leaning forward to be heard over the music, he rubbed the card in his hand.
“I’ll have a Jack and Coke, and my friend here will have…?” He glanced back towards Sebastian and raised an eyebrow questioningly,
“A Sangria, my good man.” Sebastian quickly piped up, flashing the bartender a million-watt smile, and just for kicks, threw in a suggestive wink.
With an odd look, the bartender hurried off to prepare their drinks, and while he was occupied with that, Sebastian turned back to Jordan, giving him a chummy smack on the arm.
“So, what’s this ‘really good picture’ you were talking about?”
Jordan couldn’t help the wide grin that spread across his face, and he quickly launched into his story.
“Alright, so, I just wanted a photo of some schools of fish, something bland like that, right? But instead, I turn around and right there is an honest to gods sting ray. Now, I was pretty freaked out, as you would be, but I got a couple of good photos before I decided that swimming away would be a pretty good idea.”
Retrieving his phone once more, he tapped at the screen a couple of times before turning it around to show Sebastian the photo that he was sure would get him at least a placing in the latest contest that he was entering.
Sebastian had to squint to see the picture - the strobe lights of the club weren’t exactly conducive to such an attempt. But vaguely, he could see the outline of the aforementioned stingray, bending and twisting in the clear, blue ocean water. It was a good picture, no doubt, and he said as much to Jordan, though not before lacing the compliment with one of his signature wisecracks.
“Hey, that’s really nice.” Sebastian leaned back in his seat with an appreciative nod, running a hand through loosely tousled hair. “Good thing you’re still here, though. Can’t have you pulling a Steve Irwin on us now, can we?”
Jordan snorted at that, and nodded to the bartender as their drinks were set down in front of them. “As if I’d die like that. You know me, gonna go out with a bang.”
Taking a sip from his whiskey and coke, he let his eyes flick around the club. It was like every other one he’d ever been to. Flashy, loud, and filled with too many teenagers. Snorting at their frankly terrible dancing, he looked back to Sebastian.
“What’ve you been up to then, apart from being holed up in your apartment?”
Sebastian’s eyes narrowed, but after taking a sip of his drink, he simply shook his head, a huff of dry, self-deprecating laughter escaping from him. “Actually, I live in a house. Thanks, Jordan. You know me so well.”
“Same as always, I guess. Work, work, and more work. I’m not exactly rolling in cash, but selling farm equipment pays surprisingly well - no commission cap, either.” There was a short pause before he continued, his expression sobering up a little. “…Mierda, when did I become this boring?”
Sebastian punctuated the thought with a quick look around. It wasn’t even midnight yet, and the dance floor was already filled with sweaty, alcohol-soaked teenagers grinding up against one another. It was strange, but the sight filled him with an inane sort of jealousy, though it was all he could do to ignore it. He came out here to have a good time, and by God, he was going to have a good time. The existential crisis could wait.
Jordan followed his gaze and sighed. “Half of those kids probably got in here with fake I.Ds. I mean, it’s so obvious, I don’t get why they weren’t just told to go away at the door. See, that one still has baby fat on his cheeks. Baby fat!” He shook his head and took another drink, making a face at the burn of alcohol down his throat.
Sneaking a sideways glance at him, he had the sudden, insane thought of the two of them dancing together. To his dismay, he found himself actually considering it for a second, before realizing where his mind was going with this. He immediately turned away and swallowed down the last drops of his drink before ordering another. He was not going there today. It’d be all kinds of awkward and he knew that suggesting it would probably get Sebastian wondering if he had actually, finally gone insane. Just a bad idea that he should never bring up again.
To the untrained eye, one might’ve dismissed Jordan’s glance as nothing more than a trick of the light, but Sebastian saw it, clear as day. Now, it didn’t take a genius to figure out what he was thinking, and the sudden lull in conversation only confirmed his suspicions. If Jordan wasn’t going to say anything, then there was no other choice but for him to make the first move. And they were at a club, for God’s sake, if they wanted to have a quiet drink, they would’ve been better off meeting up at the bar uptown.
So, it was with a newfound resolution that Sebastian downed the last icy-cold dregs of Sangria, wiping his mouth off on a complimentary napkin. He wasn’t nearly drunk enough for this, but he’d never let sobriety dissuade him. Standing up, he closed a hand around Jordan’s arm, tugging at it in invitation - though the shit-eating grin he wore made it very clear that he wouldn’t take ‘no’ for an answer.
“I don’t know about you, but I think I’m in the mood for a dance.”
Even though Jordan let himself be tugged along onto the dance floor, he made it very clear how against this he was. No matter what far fetched ideas he might’ve had, he was quite possibly the worst dancer in the world. All awkward elbows and jerky movements, and really Sebastian should know this already.
But he let himself get pulled into the fray, surrounded by sweaty bodies and momentarily lamenting his jacket. But soon enough, he was shaking his hips in time with the music, a stupid grin spreading across his face as he and Sebastian were pressed much too closely together to be acceptable in any other situation.
“You’re a giant dick, you know?” He half shouted over the noise, but without any real venom behind it.
“Oh, shut up. You know you love me.” With some effort, Sebastian managed to make himself heard over the pounding bassline, and then, a real laugh, full of mirth, bubbled up from his throat. For a split-second, he thought about circling back to the bar for another drink, but the expression on Jordan’s face was enough to keep him there.
Quite unlike his companion, Sebastian was rather good at dancing - if this could even be called dancing. It was just something that came naturally to him, though his frequent visits to clubs similar to this one couldn’t have hurt. Still, he was almost impressed by how easily Jordan acceded to his request. The guy always seemed so prim and proper, and now, seeing him pressed flush against him, all that inhibition stripped away - well, Sebastian didn’t think there was anyone else he’d rather be with.
“You’re better than this than I thought. Been partying without me?”
“I have many hidden talents.” Jordan wiggled his eyebrows meaningfully, then a giggle burst out of him. An actual giggle. The high pitched thing that girls do. He looked momentarily horrified, before devolving into a laughing mess. He was high on adrenaline and buzzed from the alcohol, and apparently that just made for a very clingy Jordan.
Sebastian was just as surprised by the giggle-slash-laughing-fit as Jordan was, and in response, it earned from him a low, rumbling chuckle. “I’m sure you do.”
He had no idea what’d gotten into him; all he’d had was a single glass of Sangria, but in that very moment, deep within him, he could feel a strange sensation welling up, a vague sort of desire skittering just under the surface of his skin.
…Well, he had to do something about this, didn’t he?
With a near-hypnotic slowness, he slid a hand down Jordan’s side, coming to rest at his hips, and as he leaned forward, he swore he could feel the other’s breath on his skin.
The second before their lips met was almost like an eternity for him. They had both paused, before he pushed forward, the first action that he had taken all night. Max’s lips were sweet from the Sangria he had drunk, and he couldn’t help but flick his tongue out to lick them teasingly.
Countless drinks later, clothes stained with alcohol, the two were staggering off to the side of the club, away from the pulsing sea of dancers. A similarly drunken giggle escaped from Sebastian, as he all but collided with an unfortunate stranger, spilling his half-drunk margarita all over them.
Vaguely, as if underwater, he could hear them cussing him out, but right now, all he cared about was Jordan, and of course, finding somewhere a little more private.
Venturing further into the club, Sebastian kept his arm cinched tightly around Jordan’s waist, eyes flickering from one corner of the darkened interior to the next, until finally, he spotted the perfect place - the men’s room. As an attempt at subtle, he turned back to Jordan and raised an eyebrow, though he didn’t wait for the other’s affirmation before pulling him towards it.
With an unsurprising lack of grace, Sebastian pressed his lips against Jordan’s in a sloppy kiss, hands cupping the sides of his face as he backed him up against the door, pushing.
Jordan’s hands tangled in his hair as they half fell, half stumbled through the door. There was an immediate feeling of something different in the air but he brushed it off. At least, until he pulled away from the kiss to see an arching roof and pillars on either side.
“This is definitely not the bathroom.” Looking around them, and at the other gods, some of whom had noticed their enthusiastic making out, he groaned.
“Don’t tell me we’re in Asgard.” He looked pitifully back at the door, that had already swung shut behind them, restricting any possibility of going back and finishing what they’d started.
Disentangling himself from Sebastian with reluctance, he swayed and put a steadying hand back around his shoulders. His scowl did lighten somewhat however, when he spotted Hel taking her seat. Waving enthusiastically over the crowd, he called, “Hel! Sis! Great to see ya!”
He tugged on Sebastian’s arm and gestured vaguely towards the seats. “C’mon. We need t’get good seats.”
It was all Sebastian could do to follow, clumsily settling in one of the chairs. He had next to no idea about what was going on; the decadence of Asgard was something new to him, even after Jordan’s occasional recollections of it, and the stares that they’d garnered after their rather unexpected entrance didn’t help in the slightest. He was willing to bet that he looked like a fish out of water, gaping uselessly at the sudden change in scenery.
Whatever had been going on, it seemed that they’d made it just in time, though it was a rather unfortunate coincidence that fell through the door like that. With no small amount of effort, Sebastian finally managed to tear his gaze away from the decor, and instead, focused his attention on the cloth-covered figure, which was swiftly revealed to be a stone statue in the likeness of Odin.
Did they really have to bring them all the way here for this?
“Hey, isn’t that your granddad?” Sebastian questioned, probably a little too loudly for the current situation.
Jordan gave him a condescending look. “You’ve been brainwashed by all those stories as well. Odin, is Loki’s blood brother or whatever. So not related uncle. Kind of.” He frowned, struggling with it for a second before shrugging. “A giant dick anyway.”
“Huh. You learn something new everyday.” Sebastian interjected, nodding sagely.
Tyr shot them both a disapproving look, which just made him burst into laughter again. When he launched into his speech, Jordan leaned over and said, in a stage whisper, “You know, Tyr’s real handy for this kind of thing.”
“Oh, yeah. I can totally tell.” A cackle tumbled past Sebastian’s lips as he briefly glanced towards the eponymous Tyr. While he was certain that he was making a complete ass of himself, he couldn’t muster up enough willpower to stop laughing when Tyr shot them yet another withering look. “I think he’s mad at us.”
When Tyr announced that the statue was actually Odin, Jordan burst out laughing again, leaning against Sebastian for support. “It’s not much of a change. Guy was always so stony faced before!”
Sebastian let out a derisive snort at Jordan’s little comment. He wasn’t expecting the news, but to be honest, he wasn’t exactly surprised. In fact, he almost found it hard to believe that Odin hadn’t kicked the bucket sooner, what with all their rampaging Norse warrior crap. Somewhere at the back of his whiskey-fogged mind, however, he couldn’t help but feel a little disconcerted by the news of Odin’s murder.
|
God of Merchants, Travellers, Fertility, and Revenge
Basic Profile
|Name|
Maximón
|Alias(es)|
San Simón, to his worshippers, and before the Spanish Inquisition, he was known simply as Mam, the pan-Mayan term for “grandson” or “grandfather”. In recent years, however, for the sake of blending in with humans, Sebastian Morales has become his alias of choice.
|Gender|
Male
|Sexuality|
Greyromantic Pansexual
|Relationship Status|
Single, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.
|Pantheon/Faith|
Mayan/Folk Catholicism
|Occupation|
On paper, he’s a salesman at a company in Anaheim selling agricultural implements, but off the books, he runs a secret, moonshining business out of his own basement.
|Godly Appearance|
Maximón, in his true form, is rather nondescript. A humanoid figure, tanned skin and dark hair suggest a Hispanic background, but his face is perpetually obscured by a churning curtain of smoke, emanating from the cigar between his lips, like ripples on the surface of a pond. Much like his effigies, he is most often dressed in the style of 18th-century nobles, colourful garlands of summer flowers draped around his neck.
But, of course, the first thing everyone notices is the blood.
Under his clothes, it’s quite a ghastly sight. The flesh around his shoulders and knees are gashed with angry, red lacerations that never seem to heal completely, blood and ichor oozing from the wounds. They were souvenirs from his his transition into his current incarnation, in which he’d gotten ripped limb from limb by a mob of angry husbands. Even the slightest movement causes him no small amount of pain, and his gait often comes off as stiff and mechanical.
|Earthly Appearance|
Maximón looks to be a man of Hispanic roots in his mid to late thirties, olive skin stretched over a tall, leanly muscled frame just a shade off of 6’1”. His hair is dark - thick, curly locks the colour of midnight haphazardly mussed, and when the situation calls for it, teased or slicked back into a pleasing coif. Under his neatly trimmed beard (he’s barely ever clean-shaven), you’ll find a near-constant smirk, full of placid insouciance; revealing his perfectly straight teeth when it inevitably stretches into a grin. The same flippancy can be seen in his eyes - deep, brown orbs forever sparkling with levity, the beginnings of crow’s feet marring their corners.
To say that Maximón dresses to impress would be an understatement He is always immaculately garbed - all dress shirts, and made to measure slacks - even in the most casual of situations. Whenever he’s out in public, you’ll never see him dressed down below the threshold of “smart-casual”, something he accomplishes through sheer force of will, and more tangibly, clearance sales at retail stores. Taking his not-at-all stable income into consideration, it’s almost miraculous that he manages to dress the way he does without digging himself into a bottomless hole of debt.
As is befitting of his drawling, whiskey-fugged persona, Maximón always smells faintly of tobacco, alcohol, and incense. The scent seems to have seeped through his clothes, sticking to his skin like a tattoo, and even scalding hot showers don’t do a thing to get rid of it completely. It’s just as well, he thinks, since he spends most of his free time getting drunk at nightclubs, but more often than not, he finds the whole affair an inconvenience.
Am I?
|Personality|
Maximón isn’t a benevolent god - far from it, actually. To his worshippers, he’s known as a bully, one that demands regular offerings, and their undying piety, lest they incur his wrath. Of course, he is not without any redeeming traits. For all his lies and trickery, he is damned good at what he does, and never makes a promise he does not intend to keep. Depending on which day of the week you catch him on, he can either be your best friend or your worst enemy. To his subjects, he’s always cordial, almost sickeningly sweet, giving them exactly what they want, each and every time they come crawling back.
As for those he has no need of, however, they often find themselves put off by his hostility. Going from Prince Charming to little shit in about two seconds flat is a specialty of his. He doesn't abide by the rules, he doesn't play fairly, and he certainly doesn't let anyone think they can get one up on him. Naturally venomous, aloof, and even distant, he is used to putting on a variety of faces to achieve the means to an end. He won’t hesitate to mock a person’s stupidity and praise it all in one breath. Never assume that what he says is what he truly feels - it’ll be the last thing you ever do.
Interestingly, while he has a rather obnoxious habit of grandstanding, he has very little tolerance of the habit in others. Maximón frequently admonishes others to get to the point. But with a keen wit, a penchant for absurdism, and a horrifyingly macabre streak, you get the sense that Maximón always has a snicker hidden at the corner of his mouth, even if everyone around him is a little afraid to join in. Unlike his kin, however, Maximón isn’t overly confrontational. He’s really no good in a head-on fight, and the only way he can ever hope to win is through underhanded means, which fortunately, is something he has no qualms about.
|Family|
Itzamná - The creator of Maximón and his three brothers. None of them have seen him since their creation, and even after the fall, his whereabouts remain unknown. Any information is scarce, made up of carvings and inscriptions scattered across South America.
Ixchebelyax - Itzamna’s wife, and Maximón’s mother. Much like Itzamna, little is known about her, and she is but a vague memory in Maximón’s mind.
The Bacabs - Maximón’s brothers, literally. All four of them were brought into existence by Itzamna, from the interiors of the earth, and tasked with holding up the four corners of the sky. While they used to be on good terms, the Spanish Inquisition put a stop to it. The four brothers argued for days, weeks, months about what was to become of them, now that Catholicism was beginning to take root in the minds of their people, and when a consensus couldn’t be reached, they ended up parting ways. Maximón hasn’t heard from any of them since, though he often finds himself worrying about what became of his brothers.
Dorado - A fat, ginger cat that spends its days basking in the sun, doing absolutely nothing of value. On a whim, Maximón decided to adopt a cat from a local shelter. Perhaps he’d hoped Dorado would aid him in ridding his home of rodents, but it quickly became evident that the feline was extraordinarily lazy, and now, Maximón finds himself stuck with a furry, whiskered parasite. Of course, he could just throw him out, but he’s developed quite a soft spot for the cat (not that he’d ever admit to anyone).
Finally, the countless children he has fathered. Maximón doesn’t know any of them, and he doesn’t much care to. The day he agrees to pay Child Support is the day the world ends.
|Strengths|
Adaptable
Charismatic
Discreet
Efficient
Shrewd
|Weaknesses|
Amoral
Capricious
Domineering
Egocentric
Indulgent
|Likes|
Tequila
Cigars
Cats
Warm weather
McDonalds
PDA
|Dislikes|
Liars
Winter
Prudes
Vodka
Locusts
Children
|History|
Maximón can barely recall the days prior to the Spanish Inquisition. To the Mayans, he was known as Mam, a facet of the Bacabs, a four-faced god tasked with holding up the corners of the sky. Countless millennia were spent this way, watching the moon rise and fall over the horizon, until Itzamna and Ixchebelyax, with their immense power, created the first humans from a golden field of maize.
As it had been prophesied, the falling of the sky would cause a cosmological upheaval that would bring about the destruction of the world. Maximón and his three brothers never left their stations, but when the first ships landed upon the shores of South America, they knew that things would be changing. The Maya abandoned many of the cities of the central lowlands, or were killed off by famine. A series of prolonged droughts, among other reasons, is thought to have decimated the Maya, who were reliant upon rainfall. Slowly, the Mesoamerican Pantheon faded, losing their influence over the people, replaced by thoughts of saints and martyrs.
Maximón supposed he was one of the lucky ones. Instead of wiping him from existence, the advent of Catholicism changed him into something else entirely. Unlike his brothers, he never was one for letting fate run its course. He found a niche in the villages of rural Guatemala, where poverty and starvation ran rampant. It was easy enough to capitalise on the opportunity - they desired something better, and in exchange for a few offerings, he was more than happy to oblige.
The humans created effigies, crude representations of him made from wood, shrines dedicated to Maximón springing up across the country like toadstools after rain. He had prevented his own demise, and for a while, he was perfectly happy ignoring the ceaseless quarrels of these so-called greater gods. They could’ve torn each other to shreds, and Maximón wouldn’t even have bat an eyelash.
But they just had to drag him into their mess, didn’t they?
Despite his non-involvement, Maximón was strong-armed into giving up his powers after the war. To say that he was angry about it would be a gross understatement. Why did he have to suffer the consequences when he’d stayed neutral? It burned under his skin, the injustice of it all, and his resentment for the gods who caused it grew, day after day.
Still, as much as he wanted to, he couldn’t just sit around all day, sulking. For a long, long time, he was a merchant, travelling from continent to continent upon galleys to trade in spices and fabric. Then, he was a conman. Ease with words had always been something that came naturally to him, and during this time, he earned a sizeable fortune off the naivete of giggling, Victorian heiresses.
The dawn of the 20th century brought Maximón back to the shores of America. Unfortunately for him, however, he soon realised that humans weren’t as stupid as they used to be. He’d gotten used to an extravagant lifestyle, squandering his fortune on things that had simply been given to him centuries ago - cigarettes, booze, and anything else that inhibits the senses. But like any businessman worth his salt, Maximón decided to carve out his own path in the world.
To this day, the moonshine operation that Maximón ran back in the 1920s is still operational, albeit on a much smaller scale. It’s just a little something to supplement the unimpressive commission he earns as a salesman, but recently, he’s been looking to obtain a license to sell his booze topside.
|Opinion on Mortals|
Maximón doesn’t have anything against them, since, you know, they’re the ones who had given him offerings - but this isn’t to say he feels any sort of affection for humans, either. It’s more of a business arrangement than anything; they indulge his vices, and in return, he provides the means to indulge theirs.
|Theme Song|
Lazaretto – Jack White
“My veins are blue and connected
And every single bone in my brain is electric
But I dig ditches like the best of 'em
Yo trabajo duro, como en madera y yeso.”
|Favorite Myth|
The Punishment of Loki
vs. Immortal
|Mortal Skills/Abilities|
To be frank, in his countless years of existence, Maximón hasn’t applied himself all too much. His endeavours are often half-hearted, and he considers giving up halfway to be inevitable. Thus far, the only activities that have managed to capture (and retain) his attention are singing, and playing the guitar. Perhaps it reminds him of home, but he thinks it an asset, as much as it is a hobby. With a few carefully placed arpeggios, it’s almost too easy to enthrall his audience; and while he isn’t the type to whip out his guitar in the middle of a bar for an impromptu rendition of Wonderwall, he can’t say that he doesn’t like the attention.
As is befitting of his patronage, Maximón is a keen businessman. Consequences, both long and short term, never escape his perception. There isn’t a moment he acts without having thought about it twice, and courtesy of his innate ease with words, he always manages to strike up a favourable bargain.
|Immortal Skills/Abilities|
Maximón is known to be a link between Xibalbá (The Underworld) and Corazón del Cielo (The Heart of Heaven). Those in poor health visit his shrines in Guatemala to seek help, and through his priests, Maximón is able to tether their souls to the mortal plane, at least temporarily. When the likes of Anubis or Hades come calling, however, there isn’t much he can do to dissuade them. In the whole scheme of things, he can be said to be one of the weaker deities, and his dominion only extends throughout a portion of South America.
Additionally, Maximón also possesses the ability to bestow good fortune. Those blessed by him find themselves almost infallible, everything seeming to go their way, and for farmers - his most traditional clientele - a bountiful harvest come winter. But keep in mind, this effect isn’t permanent, nor is it all-powerful; walking straight into the path of an oncoming train is still going to turn you into jelly. To earn his favour, one must offer up regular gifts to Maximón in the form of money, alcohol, and cigars - but let it be known from this day forward that he despises the taste of vodka.
“This tastes like a bachelor party gone wrong.”
James Alfero - Janus
“You’ve gotta stop breaking into my house, man. Get your own damn cat.”
He doesn’t know Janus very well, even if he sees more of him than he’d like. A majority of their encounters are rather superficial, with most of them occurring after midnight. Here’s how things usually go: Maximón returns home from a bar with his quarry for the night only to discover a massive, 6’4” man sitting on his living room floor playing with his cat. Of course, his plans are pretty much ruined after that, so he finds himself with plenty of time to chase Janus out of the house.
How does he keep getting in, anyway? Maximón swears that by now, he must’ve changed his locks at least a dozen times.
Umiko Ryudo - Ryūjin
“A little too high-strung for me.”
Maybe it’s how she carries herself, or perhaps it’s the way she talks, but Maximón has always found Ryūjin’s icy demeanour a little tiring to deal with. Even before the fall, the two have never seen eye to eye, and that one time he’d gotten thrown out of her palace for indulging in “unsavory activities” with a servant girl certainly didn’t help things.
Now that they were all on the same level, however, Maximón hopes that she isn’t as uptight as she used to be. You had to let go of the past sometime, and if there’s one thing he couldn’t stand, it was those who took themselves too seriously.
Hadrian Pryde - Hades
“He’s not here, is he?”
Maximón is more than a little scared of Hades. He’s pretty much convinced that the former God of The Underworld is out to get him for prolonging the lives of those that had been due to cross the River Styx. Of course, logic would dictate that the guy probably had better things to do than chase after a lesser deity who centuries ago, saved a relatively insignificant number of lives, but to Maximón, that’s all just a big “what if”. No matter how much he tries to believe that there’s nothing to be afraid of, he still finds himself checking under his bed for Hades.
Amane Mikami - Benzaiten
“Mm? Oh yes, what about her?”
Maximón doesn’t know a whole lot about Benzaiten, though it mostly stems from the fact that they tend to gravitate amongst very different groups of people. Judging from the scarce encounters they have had, however, she has since proven herself pleasant company. All easy smiles and polite small talk - the famous Japanese hospitality, he supposed - but truth be told, he has never found found Benzaiten terribly interesting. While you’d find Maximón doing jello shots in a bar, she seemed the type to spend her Sunday nights at home writing haikus, or something. It was no fault on her part, of course, just that their polarising personalities make it kind of difficult for any meaningful interaction.
Ellen Dove - Aphrodite
“¡Ay, mami, tú tan caliente!”
Maximón’s opinion of Aphrodite is very, very superficial. To anyone with a working eyesight, her beauty is undeniable, and he isn’t ashamed to admit his own physical attraction to her.
Still, he can’t help but feel a little unnerved by her presence. It’s rather hypocritical; that in spite of all his trickery, Maximón hates being lied to. There’s something to be said about Aphrodite’s ability to bewitch even the most prudish of individuals, and the fact that she’s one of the hardest people to read isn’t exactly a comforting thought. He is, however, rather intrigued by her. Her willingness to use her more feminine assets to her advantage is something he can respect.
Hewitt Danford - Huitzilipochtli
“Pinche culero.”
To say the two of them can’t stand each other would be the understatement of the century. Countless years inhabiting the same continent provided ample time for nerves to chafe; their opposing doctrines only seeming to add fuel to the fire.
Maximón thinks that Huitzilipochtli’s whole holier-than-thou shtick is the absolute worst thing about him, with his explosive temper and penchant for violence coming in a close second. Granted, Maximón hasn’t done much in the way of reaching out to Huit, but he’s not sure he wants to risk a broken jaw. It wouldn’t be the first time a conversation with the Aztec God of War turned ugly, that’s for sure.
Andrew Jackley - Anubis
“...Yeah, I don’t think we’re on the best of terms.”
He’ll never admit it, but he’s kinda terrified of the guy. Much like Hades, Anubis used to be in charge of collecting the souls of the dead, and Maximón does not fancy his chances facing off against either of them. He’s willing to wager that all those years he’d spent prolonging the lives of his subjects did nothing to put him in their good books, but it wasn’t his fault that his job came into direct conflict with theirs, was it?
Of course, he hasn’t yet had the misfortune pleasure of encountering him after the fall, so he really has no idea what to expect. For now, the best he can do is cross his fingers, and hope that he has enough foresight to run when Anubis comes to settle a score.
Jordan Natter - Jörmungandr
“Nice threads. Not sure I appreciate the tantrums.”
Jörmungandr’s a pretty cool dude - up until he isn’t, that is. Maximón thinks that hanging out with him is like standing right next to a ticking time-bomb. You don’t know when it’s going to explode, but one thing’s for sure; it’s gonna be ugly - all blood, guts, and shattered bones.
...Okay, so maybe he’s exaggerating, but Jörmungandr has one of the worst tempers known to man, and after being in his company for a while, Maximón can’t help but feel a little skittish. He has seen firsthand the whirlwind of destruction that heralded one of Jörmungandr’s “episodes”, and every single time, he’s glad he wasn’t the target of his rage.
Still, he has to admit, he actually kind of likes the guy when he isn’t flipping out. Jörmungandr’s pragmatism is something he can respect, and hey, where else is he going to find someone who’s willing to go clothes shopping with him?
Regan Macguire - The Morrígan
“She can hold her liquor, I’ll give her that.”
Theirs is a relationship built on a shared love of alcohol, and while one might assume based on first impressions alone that their clashing personalities and backgrounds would cause more than a few problems, the opposite is true. Needless to say, they do have their disagreements every now and then, but who the hell didn’t?
One often finds that their meetings spur a rapidly escalating - sometimes dangerous - series of dares. It’s all in the name of friendly contest, of course, with both of them possessing a clear, competitive streak, though it’s undeniable that they bring out the ‘hormonal adolescent with something to prove’ in each other.
Kora Amaryllis Black - Persephone
“Lighten up, florecita. Life’s too short to worry about commitment.”
Maximón doesn’t know how she stands Huit. Granted, he doesn’t know her very well - partly due to her past association with Hades - but he finds it a little hard to believe that anyone could actually fall in love with the guy. To him, Persephone had always seemed out of her element; a fish out of water, if you will. The Goddess of Spring in The Underworld? One had to admit it sounded like the beginning of a bad joke.
Sable Almasi - Bastet
“Five cats is a little excessive, don't you think?”
Maximón finds Bastet extremely easy to read, and as far as he’s concerned, someone who wears their heart on their sleeve has a special sort of integrity you just can’t say ‘no’ to.
While they’re not technically friends (or maybe they are, he doesn’t really know, to be honest), their occasional conversations go pleasantly enough, with cats and the newest Internet memes being the most common topics of discussion - which is probably the best for everyone involved. Maximón isn’t sure he’s ready to be the target of one of Bastet’s mental-breakdowns-slash-existential-crises.
June Fallon - Nemesis
“Batman? Is that you?
Maximón thinks the whole vigilante thing is a little ridiculous, but they get along well enough. Her brand of dry, sarcastic humour is something he can appreciate, and admittedly, it also helps that she isn’t put off by his rather blunt manner of speech, when he inevitably gets tired of putting up a facade
It’s a comfortable relationship, to say the least, with neither of them expecting too much from the other, and he’s thankful for it. Maximón doesn‘t do friends, but he considers Nemesis to be something close to one.
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Huitzilopochtli
Nike
Hewitt sighed as he paced the War Room. The radios crackled as his team spoke to each other, and the wall of TVs showed the view of each of the men (and woman) as they went about their task. Hewitt watched as Richard finished wiring the door. Hewitt leaned forward and pressed his own microphone. "Rich is in, Carlos, now's your move." Hewitt turned to the screens, arms crossed and a tense scowl playing across his mouth and cheeks. His muscles rippled with nervousness, and he kept glancing to the other screens to make sure all was going to plan.
The team was trying to break into the German embassy in Belarus, and kidnap the fake-Germany agent within, who had come there in claims of asylum, but was really there to steal German secrets. The Germans couldn't do this operation themselves, as it was obviously illegal, so they had contracted Hewitt's team to do it instead. It was really quite petty, but the money was good, so Hewitt had no argument.
Carlos walked into view, wearing a magnificent dark blue suit to carrying a briefcase that could contain important papers, but Hewitt knew contained a rather more dangerous object. He approached the gate, and spoke in rapid fire German. The gate opened and Carlos stepped inside, scanning the fake badge the team had made. Hewitt switched over to Horsch's screen, as the Austrian prepped the car, which was waiting just beyond the rear entrance. Hewitt pressed the microphone again. "Carlos is in, Horsch, be ready to go, Megan, you're up."
Megan began her job, dropping into the security room from the duct. She knocked out the man sitting at the desk, and began disabling the cameras. Hewitt gave a half smile. As much as he liked violence, hurting the German officials would only annoy his employers, and that wouldn't be good for business. As Megan worked, Carlos approached the main desk. He asked another question in German, and the woman pointed him down a hallway. Hewitt spoke, "Alright, here's where things get tricky, Carlos is about to reach the target. Richard, get those doors open."
Carlos swept into a room, some kind of holding cell. The man sitting at the table looked startled. Carlos walked to the table, setting his case down, speaking in German to calm the man. He opened the case, and pulled out the collapsed machine gun, folding it out into its full size. He barked a command, and the other man stood up. Carlos spoke, in English, "Target is mobile, coming to you Rich." The pair of men began to move.
And then it hit Hewitt. Cold, vicious power washed over him, and the stink of death filled the room. He swore angrily. "Damnit not now!" He paused, watching the screens as his mind spun. That kind of power only came from a major god, and that smell could only mean they were dead. The intercom crackled, but the door to the room swung open. Hewitt spun to see, but it opened onto a room that did not match the hallway outside. Hewitt roared in anger. He hit the intercom "Finish the mission, I'll contact you once you're finished." he growled, viciously.
He stomped into the halls of Asgard, paying no attention to the opulence and splendor of the room. He grumpily sat down in the first chair he came to, glaring at Tyr and the cloaked form sitting next to him. When the cover came off, Huitzilopochtil stared stonily at it, undisturbed. They were wasting his time. He wanted no part of their issues, he had his own to deal with. But there was something in the dead eyes of Odin that offput him, he just couldn't place what it was.
Nicole bounded up the steps of the bleachers, sliding into the third row, taking a seat next to a tall, brown haired man. She set her bag down in between her legs. She looked up and smiled at the man. "Hey Paul!" she beamed. Nicole's daughter, Alexa, was on the High-school Field Hockey team, and Paul's daughter Alice was good friends with Alexa. Paul smiled back at Nicole.
"Hi Nicole. Know anything about the other team this week?" People often asked her if she knew anything about the team's opponents, both because she often ended up training some of the kids, and because Alexa told her nearly everything. But this time, she hadn't heard much. She told the man as much, frowning slightly.
A whistle blew down on the field, and the small crowd turned to look. A boy slid into the seat next to Nicole. "Hey Ms. Harrow, is Alexa playing today?" The boy was taller than Nicole, and had a shock of short black hair, and a toned form.
She smiled at him. "Hey Tom, yeah, she's playing, I think they're about to start." Tom was one of Alexa's oldest friends, and it was very clear to Nicole that he was interested in her as more than just a friend. A fact to which Alexa was completely oblivious, something that made Nicole laugh more often than not.
The girls started to play, Alexa's team took the lead very early, but a penalty tied the match back up. Many parents didn't like to sit too close to her, because she screamed and cheered much louder than was really appropriate, sometimes. Paul and Tom didn't seem to mind too much. The teams stayed fairly even, and then the ref blew the whistle for a timeout. The girls trotted to their sides of the field. "They're doing good." Tom said, looking down at the girls.
Nicole nodded, "They are. Hopefully they can keep the pace up," she said, looking at the other team, trying to judge their exhaustion. Suddenly, it got violently cold, and a rush of power and the stench of death rolled over her. Nicole stood, mumbling an "excuse me" to the people around her as she ran off down towards the bathroom. She hadn't felt that in ages, literally. That much power, it could only have been a few gods. She knew it wasn't Zeus, it didn't have his signature stain. It wasn't Ra or Osiris, not hot enough. None of the Asian gods were cold enough to... Nicole had a suspicion.
She stumbled into the bathroom. Why did she care? Other than the fact that the feeling had made her sick, she had no value for most of the Gods. One of the stall doors swung open, but there was no toilet behind it. A grand hall spread out before her. She gulped. This was not the time. The game would be over soon, and she had no interest in seeing the beings she had avoided for so long. But she recognized the doorway for what it was. It was not a choice, but an order. She glanced once more at the doorway out of the bathroom, and then crossed into the grand building.
As she stumbled through the crowd, she heard the word "Asgard", which must be the place she was in. She found a chair in the back, and pulled it away from the others a bit. An angry looking giant of a man sat down in the nearest sit, scowling at the front. Nike recognized very few of the people in the room, though she spotted Hermes a distance away. When the one-handed man revealed the now deceased Odin, Nike let out the tiniest gasp. Then Athena demanded they stay, and her surprise quickly turned into anger. When Athena cut off any protests, she stood in indignation. "Some of us do have somewhere to be, thank you, now if you don't mind, I don't really care about this poor old man, so I'd like to go home."
|
Huitzilopochtli
Lord of War, Master of the Sun, God of Sacrifice, Patron God of Tenochtitlan (now destroyed), and, more recently, Avenger of the People
Basic Profile
|Name|
Huitzilopochtli (Hwit-zee-po-klee)
|Alias(es)|
In order of most used: Hewitt Danford, Hugh Trommons, Hernando Alvadorez
|Gender|
Male
|Sexuality|
Heterosexual
|Relationship Status|
Currently In Relationship w/ Persephone (BreakingMe)
|Pantheon/Faith|
Aztec
|Occupation|
Operates a small international mercenary force, though he rarely participates in their "Activities" he mostly just organizes and plans for the semi-military unit, exploiting his vast strategic and tactical knowledge. Often, he uses this unit to his own whims, destroying things he deems oppressive and corrupt. In his long existence after the fall of the Aztecs, he has made a point of visiting as many great battles he could reach, though recently there's been a lull.
|Godly Appearance|
Associated equipment is the generic Aztec battle armor, generally of leather. It is not enchanted in any way as described by the legends, but Huit has poured a bit of his essence into it, making it indestructible. the Aztec Obsidian blade, the Macuahuitl, is a symbol of all the Aztecs, but Huit the most. His own blade can burn with the heat of the sun (not really, but really hot).
|Earthly Appearance|
As Hewitt or Hugh, he generally appears as a 6' 1", incredibly well-built fortress of a man. Muscles ripple over his entire body, the muscles of somebody trained in hand to hand combat. He has dull, brown eyes, almost red in their tint. A short, but not buzz-cut mop of dark brown hair covers his head. A mouth that rests as a hard line of determination can break out into a wide, toothy smile or, more often, a vicious, menacing snarl. His body is covered in scars, mainly on his chest and back, though a long one traces along his right arm.
Who Am I?
|Personality|
Huit (i'll use that for short) was originally a vicious, determined, and vengeful lord. He demanded sacrifice and honor from his people, in order to keep their world alive. His greatest focus was always being the best and strongest, and he fueled anger and hatred into this purpose. He had few friends among the Aztec pantheon, and as time has progressed, he has gotten most of them killed, either by accident, on purpose, or by his own hand. But, now that he has walked among mankind for over 500 years, he has learned to treat the humans with more respect. He has built a hatred of gods and people who behave like he used to, dominating an innocent population and forcing them to do as their leader pleases. He despises oppression, and yearns for the might to destroy it again. He has long desired for his powers to return in order to seek vengance on those who have wronged the world. He has a great interest in military history, and has enjoyed visiting great battles of history, though he often puts himself in harms way to accomplish something, either a better vantage point, or to help one side or the other. This has manifested into a full, violently reckless streak.
When interacting with others, especially gods, he treats them depending on the history he knows of them. If he remembers them as domineering, rude, heartless, or otherwise negatively traited (with the exception of violent, he loves violent), he treats them badly, and takes little pleasure in interacting with them. If they were good, or at least honorable people, he behaves much more like the royalty he technically is, and gives them much more leeway and kindness. Huit isn't exactly the best at making friends given his arrogance, but those he makes are drawn to him via his vibrant and exciting personality.
|Family|
-Mother, Coatlicue, location unknown
-400 Brothers, the Centzonuitznaua, scattered as the stars (AKA. Dead, dead, and extra dead, with pickles on the side)
-Sister, Coyolxauhqui, the Moon, He thinks she's in Southeast Asia somewhere.
Huit fought and defeated his sisters and brothers to defend his mother, and in the times of old he was said to be chasing his sister, the moon, as the sun across the sky.
-Pet Dog/Serpent, Toxcatl (also the name of the festival day for Huit), a gift from his friend, Quetzalcoatl (the feathered serpent, a fellow Aztec god.). Toxcatl is part Guatemalan Bull Terrier (Reference), part Boa Constrictor Imperator (Reference)(He has a snake's tail, but that's it., Huit uses his limited power over light to hide the tail from mortals.)
|Strengths|
Combat of all types
Determined
Focused
"Heroic"
Honorable
Strong
|Weaknesses|
Reckless
Arrogant
Violent
Vengeful
Brutal
|Likes|
His Dog/Serpent, Toxcatl
Fighting/war
Military History
Honor and Sacrifice
Muscle Cars
French Fries
|Dislikes
The Weak and Foolish
Oppressors
The Overly Cautious
The Spanish
Vegetables
Crabs
|History|
Originally the god of war, sacrifice, and the ever-mighty sun, Huit was...not happy, when the gods agreed to surrender their powers. He sent the Aztecs to destroy their neighbors in a fit of rage. He then served as a shadowy puppet master of the Aztecs until the Spanish came, a group which he came to despise for destroying his people. Since, he journeyed throughout the world, finding new things and manipulating conflict. Huit was responsible for the failure of the Spanish Armada, the first freeing of Napoleon, and he had a small hand in igniting the Communist revolution (Which he came to regret, as he saw the Oppression it incurred). Recently, he has settled down some, and only interferes when he is exceptionally bored. He has also developed a relationship with Persephone, with the pair now living together.
|Opinion on Mortals|
Huit feels compelled to defend the innocent humankind from the Oppression of Gods or Men who believe they are Gods. And yet, he believes himself a greater being, despite their similarities. He feels humans are more like children or puppies to his full-grown adult, and he treats them as such, though he tries not to do it to their face.
|Theme Song|
R U Mine? – Arctic Monkeys
”I go crazy 'cause here isn't where I wanna be
And satisfaction feels like a distant memory
And I can't help myself,
All I wanna hear her say is "Are you mine?"”
|Favorite Myth|
Promethus and the gift of Fire
Mortal vs. Immortal
|Mortal Skills/Abilities|
Has learned a vast majority of combat skills, given his war-relation. Always has a perfect tan. Is notoriously difficult to burn.Has learned to play electric guitar, though he admits he isn't excellent. Master strategist/tactician, and can memorize nearly any map. Incredibly athletic, does ridiculous workouts whenever he can. Speed Reader. Excellent Chef.
|Immortal Skills/Abilities|
As Lord of the Sun, Huit's will travels along it's rays. At his height, he could travel anywhere in the world the sun currently shined, at the speed of light, which for all intents and purposes was instantly, though for now, he can only jump a few meters.
Likewise, as God of War, Huit is incredibly talented in combat, the more his power waxes, the more impossible to hit - and the harder he will hit back - he will become.
Unfortunatley, as the God of Sacrifice, Huit's strength and energy are increased when a person is sacrified, or makes a great sacrifice near him (similar to a regular person eating a good healthy meal, this boost will increase as his power does.) The range of the sacrificial strengthening will increase as his power does.
Huitzilopochtli
"You know, I could kill you six different ways, right now. Watch your words."
Janus - James Alfero
"A bit of a pushover, but I can't say I hate the man, I suppose I tolerate him."
Hewitt is undecided on James, the irony of which is not lost on him. He can understand the man, and the god behind the man, but he doesn't understand how to interact with him. He can never decide whether to be agressive, or friendly, or just bored. He thinks James is a bit afraid of him, but most people are. Hewitt just wishes James would be a little more...interesting.
Hades - Hadrian Pyle
"I used to like Hadrian...too bad he's basically my romantic rival now."
Benzaiten - Amane Mikami
"I know it's odd, but I see a bit of the warrior's pride in her."
Aphrodite - Ellen Dove
"If she wasn't so hot, I probably would've killed her by now. Don't tell Seph the first part..."
Anubis - Andrew Jackley
"I'll make a warrior out of the man yet, that fidgeting must be good for something."
Jörmungandr - Jordan Natter
"Gotta respect the giant green death snake, he reminds me of Quetzalcoatl, but more prissy."
Maximón - Sebastian Morales
"Don't associate us. We are nothing alike."
The Morrigan - Regan Macguire
"I respect her, but it seems that she needs to let some things go. I've got a trick for that y'know."
Persephone - Kora Amaryllis Black
"You'd think I wouldn't fit with the peace-loving beauty queen, but I guess she likes me. She keeps me under control too."
Bastet - Sable Almasi
"A good woman, and she's in it for the people, so I can't object."
Nemesis - June Fallon
"If she didn't hate the people, I'd probably have joined her little vigilante thing, haha."
Nike - Nicole Harrow
"She's athletic, I'll give her that, but giving up on your kin (the gods) just doesn't fly with me."
Nike
Goddess of Victory
Basic Profile
|Name|
Nike
|Alias(es)|
Nike (Greek), Victoria(Roman), Nicole Harrow(Mortal)
|Gender|
Female
|Sexuality|
Heterosexual
|Relationship Status|
Single
|Pantheon/Faith|
She prefers Greek, but is technically also Roman.
|Occupation|
Nicole is an athletic trainer, and in her last "life" was an Olympic coach. She mainly just trains regular people now, either in running, weight lifting, yoga, or swimming. She owns the small buisness, Win Big!
|Godly Appearance|
Reference Nike's Wing's and Sword both traditionally represent victory. Those wielding the sword are supposedly impossible to defeat at anything, whether it actually involves the sword or not, though this effect does not guarantee anything with non-mortals.
|Earthly Appearance|
Nicole is attractive, not nearly as beautiful as Aphrodite or Persephone, but still very pretty. Nicole's long dark hair almost always hangs down, framing her face, and she only puts it up in an elaborate manner for fancy events. She has striking blue eyes, which often catch the light, and some people say they see flashes of gold when looking into them. Nicole stands a taller 5' 7", and her form is long, lithe, and well muscled. Nicole's mouth is full and pleasant, and a row of brilliant white teeth are often the subject of comment.
Am I?
|Personality|
Nicole is driven, vibrant, and endearing. She will absolutely refuse to give up, at anything and everything. At the same time, she's happy, friendly, and bouncy (excited?). She loves helping other people almost as much as she loves helping herself. Nicole tries as hard as she can to engage others, rather than talk about herself, in order to get people to open up to her. She desperately wants friends and for people to like her, and she sometimes comes on too strong in her efforts. Nicole loves her daughter Alexa more than anything in the world, and would do anything for the girl.
Nicole is also rather apologetic, convinced that every time something goes wrong, it must have been her fault for not doing something correctly. Her stubbornness is often and issue, even the most simple things become a challenge if she doesn't get them right the first time. Everything must be perfect, and she must succeed. It often drives others to give up on helping her, which both infuriates her and pushes her to try harder. Often, she'll even try to press others to succeed, even if they don't think they will. It is both a blessing and a curse.
|Family|
-Sisters Krata, Bia, and Zelus
-Adopted daughter Alexa, 15
|Strengths|
Driven
Friendly
Athletic
Supportive
Loyal
|Weaknesses|
Stubborn
Lonely (Despite her many friends)
Apologetic
Self-defeating
Vengeful
|Likes|
Winning (duh)
Her Daughter
Dogs
Working Out
Traveling
Cake
Movies (Action or cheesy rom-com)
Oranges (and associated products)
|Dislikes
Failure
Laziness
Pessimists
Steroids
Cheating
Artichokes
Snobs
Spiders
|History|
Born from a Titan and a Goddess, Nike as a goddess was mighty, fearless, and strong. She championed the cause of the Olympian gods, and enamored their soldiers with strength, and rewarded them for their victories. Anywhere she went on the battlefield, success and glory followed. And then the Romans came. They diminished her, she was still valued, but she wasn't as important. But what she hated was that the Romans had no qualms about fighting dirty, and their concept of honor was not for each man, but for the soldier. She did her job, but she had lost the sense of greatness associated with it.
When the time came to surrender their powers, Nike gave in, one of the few times she did so without much of a struggle. She didn't love her job anymore. Once the gods had turned in their hats, she left. Disappeared into the world, hiding from the other gods. She didn't champion battles, none of the victories of the great powers were part of her assistance. She had no interest in the military. Instead, she explored the earth, looking for amazing things, victories of nature. And then, she studied biology, interested in how nature had accomplished these feats. Every time she "died" she would go back and learn it all again. It started with plants and animals, and then once Darwin was through, just animals. And then mortal anatomy. Which led her to healthcare, to see victories against disease. And all the way, she learned more about the mortals she had so long championed from afar.
Following the horrors of the second world war, Nicole finally settled down. She tried teaching, but found that without a professorship, she didn't enjoy it enough. She began to train people, and eventually it came to Olympians. She lived in Colorado training Americans, and in London training Englishmen. Then, she decided she would achieve a victory of her own, raising a child. So she adopted a girl, technically Russian. She moved to San Francisco, and began to raise the sweet little child. Nicole loved every second of it. Sending Alexa to the first day of school was one of the hardest things she ever did. She feels that Alexa is her greatest victory.
|Opinion on Mortals|
Nicole is enamored with Mortals. She finds them incredible, capable of so many great things. She loves them much more than she loves any of the gods, who she sees as greedy, arrogant, and dangerous.
|Theme Song|
Hey There Delilah – The Plain White T's
”Delilah, I can promise you
That by the time that we get through
The world will never ever be the same
And you're to blame”
|Favorite Myth|
Odysseus' final victory against his wife's suitors
vs. Immortal
|Mortal Skills/Abilities|
Nicole is a master biologist, given all her time studying. She's also incredibly athletic from her more recent jobs, and she's probably capable of running a marathon or an iron man, though it's not really her thing. Nicole knows everything there is to know about travel at this point, given she only settled down 14 years ago, and spent the majority of the last 1500 years traveling the earth. Nicole also plays the flute, though she hasn't picked it up in ages.
|Immortal Skills/Abilities|
Currently, Nicole can only inspire people to victory, giving them a sense that they will be able to win. As her powers return, she will be able to increase the odds or even ensure victory in mortals, and at least give immortals a boost to their chances. She cannot guaratnee the impossible though, the more likely the person was to originally be able to accomplish something, the easier it is for her to boost their chances.
Currently, Nicole has no wings, the only thing she misses from being a goddess. As her powers grow, so will her wings, though she'll be able to hide them. She will not be able to achieve full, wild, flight until she is at almost full strength, though she may be able to hover and glide sooner.
Nike
"C'mon! Let's go do something!"
Remember, Nike ran off and hasn't spoken with many of the gods in a long time, so she doesn't know all of them very well.
Janus - James Alfero
"What a nice guy! I wish he'd visit more often, he seems to know whats up."
Hades - Hadrian Pyle
"If he weren't such a mopey bum, he'd be a great guy. And get over Persephone, jeez!"
Benzaiten - Amane Mikami
"Again, don't know much, sorry! But apparently she's pretty smart"
Huitzilopochtli - Hewitt Danford
"I'd be afraid if I wasn't so impressed with his athletic dedication."
Aphrodite - Ellen Dove
"I think there's a Grinch (live action, thank you) quote here..."hate, hate, hate, double hate...""
Anubis - Andrew Jackley
"I wish he'd stick around longer, he's such a great guy, and he's pretty talented."
Jörmungandr - Jordan Natter
"The giant snake? He must have had fun with the whole "human with legs" thing..."
Maximón - Sebastian Morales
"What a jerk. Not only does he take advantage of the humans, but the gods too? Talk about typecast."
The Morrigan - Regan Macguire
"She's in the military, right? Is she the one Hades talks about sometimes?"
Persephone - Kora Amaryllis Black
"She confuses me. Sometimes she's sweet, other times she's...I don't know, darker?"
Bastet - Sable Almasi
"If I liked cats, I'd never leave her house. She's so wonderful and friendly and amazing."
Nemesis - June Fallon
"Nemesis and I used to be buddies, but then she started this "humans are worthless" thing and I just can't handle that."
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"Stop trying to hit me and hit me!"
He could see the rage building in his opponent as he yelled the movie quote. He saw the fist fly at his face and felt the displaced air on his nose as the blow swung just millimeters from contacting. His response was an uppercut to his opponents jaw that sent the sweating man crumpling to his back.
"You know, at some point, you have to at least give them a chance." said Old Walter from the side of the ring. The older man leaned against the boxing rings ropes from the outside and half smiled, half scowled at Jack.
Jack simply shrugged and let out a sigh of disappointment as he replied "But then how would they learn anything?"
From his feet, he heard the still crumpled Marco complain "Learned not to spar with you." as he rolled over onto his side and groaned.
Jack scrunched his face up in thought before conceding "Well I guess it wasn't a complete waste of time." He crouched down to look at Marco on the canvas and prodded him on the shoulder with a padded glove before saying "You've got a lot of potential kid, but I've been doing this a lot longer than you."
Marco narrowed his eyes and stared at Jack in confusion at the use of the word 'kid'. Marco looked to be at least five years older than Jack and at least 100 lbs heavier, yet Jack insisted on using the word kid when addressing him.
The corner of Jack's mouth turned up in amusement at Marco's look before he reached out with both arms to help him back to his feet. He playfully prodded at Marco's stomach when they were both standing and found it funny when the much larger man recoiled.
"If you two ladies are done kissing," said old Walter "You have a visitor."
Jack turned to look at the aging man who had now lost his smile entirely. Old Walter, despite his nickname, was still incredibly fit for a man of 65 and was just about as muscular as the much younger Marco. His nickname of 'The Wall' still seemed very apt. His square jaw was clenched tight in an expression that reminded Jack of the day they met over a decade ago. He had pulled that look when he first laid eyes on Jack too. It was the same look he had whenever there was what he called "a high falutin suit type" around. Jack peered around his old friend to take in the gym. There was the usual assortment of muscleheads and fighters in the dimly lit gym, sweating and panting as they worked out. But there was also one person who stood out like the proverbial sore thumb.
Right there in the middle of the room, bathed in the pale sunlight streaming in through the high windows stood a young woman dressed like she was ready for a business meeting. Pencil skirt so tight Jack wondered how she could move at all. Her hair was perfect. Not a single strand out of place. She clutched a briefcase in both hands in front of her as she waited patiently, trying not to make eye contact with the admittedly gruff and smelly clientele of the gym. One woman, who looked like an amazon passed by and looked her up and down with an expression that was half derision and half lust. There was no denying that Melodee Bryant was an attractive woman in that rather uptight way of hers but Jack couldn't help but sigh at the sight of her. Mel had been looking thoroughly uncomfortable surrounded by so many sweaty, half naked men and women but when she saw that Jack was looking at her, she straightened and raised her head up from between her shoulders where it had been slowly shrinking. Jack made his way out of the boxing ring and past Walt who gave him a grunt as he passed.
"Have you considered the irony of the Chairman of a billion dollar telecom company who never answers his phone?" asked Melodee in a half shout to be heard over the noise of the gym as he approached.
Pulling off his boxing gloves, Jack responded "Have you considered the possibility that I didn't want to talk?" He swerved off to the side before reaching her and shoved his gloves down onto a bench next to his bag.
"Oh please." scoffed Melodee with a snort. "The day you don't want to talk is the day I start working out in a dingy hole in the wall like this."
"Oh" said Jack with feigned surprise "So you brought your workout gear in that precious little briefcase?"
She shot him the same fake smile she had perfected for use during board meetings and replied "No, I brought something much better. Papers for you to sign."
Jack's shoulders visibly slumped and he made a show of groaning. "People still sign papers?" he complained. "Don't we live in a digital world?"
"Some people like paper" responded Melody with a smug smile as she retrieved her precious papers from her briefcase. "Penderton being one of them."
Jack cringed slightly at the mention of Penderton's name. Albert Penderton was the owner of a small company that Quicksilver Communications had recently agreed to purchase and the old man was possibly the most boring person Jack had ever met. He was hoping Melodee's forms were the last things he'd have to sign before he could be done with Penderton forever. He gave the papers a quick scan before signing them and handed them back to Melodee who placed them back in her briefcase and stood there, staring at him for a moment before her eyes slowly drifted towards his bare chest. "Hey!" he barked, snapping his fingers at her. "My eyes are up here."
Cheeks visibly reddening, Mel gathered her composure and said "Don't flatter yourself. You're not my type."
Jack was preparing some witty retort when he felt something strange. It was a feeling he hadn't felt for a very very long time. Not since his time among the gods. Not since his life as Hermes.
It was a soul passing on. And not just any soul. A powerful one. Hermes had always been attuned to such things, thanks to his duties as a psychopomp. He was responsible for escorting the departed to the other side. But it had been a long time since Hermes, now Jack, had had such responsibilities. Not since the gods collectively agreed to relinquish their powers. For Jack to be feeling this now, even without his powers, it would have to have been someone of great power.
The color visibly drained from Jack's face and he lurched forward slightly, almost falling into the arms of Melodee in front of him. "Oh my god, are you okay?" she practically yelled in concern. Jack could hear the hurried footsteps of Walt and Marco approaching behind him but he quickly regained his composure before they reached him. He took a deep breath and turned to smile at them.
"I'm fine" he said, glancing between them and Mel. "Still a little hungover from last night...You know me. Party till you drop....There were twins." He shot Marco a wink and Marco smiled back, proud of bro's "achievement". Walt, however, had a face of stone and seemed to know Jack's story was bullshit. The Wall's silent looks of judgement were the worst.
Melodee was obviously still concerned and as Jack pulled on a t shirt, she asked "Are you sure you're okay?"
"I'm fine" smiled Jack, lying through his teeth. His attention had shifted to thoughts of Hades though and he wondered if the creep had felt the same thing he had. He'd have to have felt it, right? Hades was infinitely more powerful than Hermes when it came to sensing souls crossing over so if Hermes had felt it, Hades certainly would have. He decided then to try and contact his creepy old "uncle" to see if he could fill him in on what was happening. "Be right back" he told everyone, snatching his phone from his bag. "Need to make a call."
He wandered off, heading down a nearby corridor as he punched a number into his phone. Before he could enter the last digit however, he noticed a door pop open. What lay on the other side was definitely not the foul smelling bathroom that would usually be there.
Odd.
Curious, he stepped through.
On the other side, he was only slightly surprised to see a number of other gods step through similar doors. Apparently there was something important going on. After stepping through the threshold, he felt an odd yet pleasant sensation. Like an adrenaline rush of epic proportions. He hadn't felt like this since being stripped of his powers.
He wandered into the main room where the others were gathering. He recognized rather a lot of them and gave a few nods to those he hadn't seen in a while. Slumping down into one of the chairs, he looked around and spotted Nike sitting at the back of the room, away from everyone else. He gave her a smile and a casual salute before turning his attention to Athena and Tyr.
Like most, Hermes was shocked by the news about Odin. He had felt him pass but it was still surprising to learn that something like this had happened to someone so powerful. Who could have done such a thing? Despite the mild knot forming in his stomach, Hermes couldn't help but smile when he heard drunken laughter coming from a whose names he couldn't quite remember. It wasn't that he agreed with them, he simply enjoyed seeing people in a good mood. Plus, he was glad he wasn't the one getting into trouble this time. The smile was wiped from his face when Athena mentioned that everyone present would be questioned. They thought someone here had killed Odin? More important to Hermes though was the fact that he couldn't leave. He was about to voice his annoyance at this when, much to his surprise, Nike did that for him.
Hermes knew from past experience that it generally wasn't a good idea to poke the proverbial bear that was Athena but, hey, she wasn't in charge of him anymore. "Yeah, I'm with Nike on this one" he said "In case you haven't been paying attention this last few millenia, I'm a very busy person."
|
I still need to do his history but right now I need to sleep. I'm only mortal after all.
Messenger of the gods. God of athleticism, thieves and luck.
Basic Profile
|Name|
Hermes
|Alias(es)|
Mercury
Jack Mercer
Robin Hood (Just kidding....Or am I?)
|Gender|
Male
|Sexuality|
Bisexual
|Relationship Status|
Single
|Pantheon/Faith|
Greco-Roman
|Occupation|
Hermes is a hard person to find, because he’s always on the run. When he’s not delivering messages for the gods, he’s running a telecommunications company, an express delivery service, and every other type of business you can imagine that involves travel. Did you have a question about his activities as god of thieves? Leave a message. He’ll get back to you in a few millennia.
|Godly Appearance|
Reference. Even in his godly form, Hermes is mostly human, albeit with a stature and size greater than most mortals. He was occasionally known to take the form of a hawk. This bird was beautiful and held a noble bearing. While Hermes wasn't known for wearing armor, his winged boots became synonymous with the messenger god. He also carried a caduceus staff, which was a gift from Apollo.
|Earthly Appearance|
Jack/Hermes is a very good looking man with chiselled features and piercing eyes that seem to shift in color from hazel to green. His hair is thick and dark and is usually kept short. He usually sports a light dusting of stubble across his face. Physically, he stands at about six feet and is very fit with a muscular yet slim body. He keeps in good shape but doesn't feel any need to overdo it. He has a runner's body.
Am I?
|Personality|
Hermes is a mostly happy-go-lucky kind of guy who's always on hand with a joke or some smartass comment, even when it's completely inappropriate. He can be somewhat annoying at times but this isn't usually intentional. Unless of course you make him mad, in which case he will often go out of his way to be as annoying as possible. He has developed something of a Robin Hood type personality over the years and will literally steal from the rich to give to the poor. He's fond of playing pranks on others but while it's usually in good spirits, he has been known to go slightly over the line in the past. He also has a tendency to be impatient. To someone as fast as the messenger god, everyone else often seems to be living in slow motion, which can become very aggravating. If anything has changed between Hermes and Jack Mercer it's that Jack has become far less arrogant than he once was. His humanity has humbled him...at least somewhat.
|Family|
Apollo - Apollo and Hermes, half brothers, always had fun together. Even if Apollo was a little uptight. They're close...but don't mention that cattle.
Artemis - By virtue of being Apollo's twin sister, Hermes always felt somewhat protective of Artemis. Not that she needed protecting of course. Hermes ultimately ended up just getting in her way most of the time.
|Strengths|
Fast
Clever
Bold
Athletic
Kind
|Weaknesses|
Impatient
Liar
Kind of annoying
Compulsive thief
Adrenaline Junkie (He's reckless when it comes to getting thrills)
|Likes|
Travelling
Letter writing (it's a dying art)
Playing incredibly ingenious tricks
Extreme sports
Feasts
Secrets
Singing telegrams
The lyre
Soap operas and dramas
|Dislikes|
Staying still
Waiting
Jazzercise
Cerberus
Catching on fire
|History|
Hermes got started young as a troublemaker. When he was one day old, he sneaked out of his crib and stole some cattle from his brother Apollo. Apollo probably would’ve blasted the young tyke to bits, but fortunately Hermes appeased him with a new musical instrument he created called the lyre. Apollo liked it so much he forgot all about the cows. The lyre made Apollo very popular with the ladies, which was more than he could say about the cattle.
From that point on, Hermes went on to do great things, as you would expect from a child prodigy. He invented many types of racing and the sport of boxing. He became the patron of athletes and thieves. He became the messenger of the other gods. An envoy to humanity "and just an altogether great guy". Damn it Hermes, stop interrupting.
As the messenger of the gods, Hermes became privy to many of the scandalous secrets flying around Olympus, which is probably where he gained his love of soap opera style drama. But Hermes was more than just a messenger. He was a skilled warrior as well. Not only did he rescue Persephone, at least temporarily, from the clutches of Hades, he also slew the hundred-eyed giant Argus Panoptes to rescue Io. Not to mention all those times he helped the mortals like Perseus and Odysseus. All in all, Hermes life as a god was a fun one.
When the time came to give up his powers, Hermes was admittedly somewhat reluctant. But he was nothing if not loyal to his family and so agreed.
From that point on, Hermes seemed to wander from place to place and job to job, never really staying in the same place for long. He had many, varied jobs. Including travelling salesman and thief...Which were actually very similar. He was a street musician and a teacher...Which paid about the same. For a time, he also led a band of thieves and bandits to notable success. In recent years, however, Hermes has at least somewhat stopped wandering. With the advent of modern communication technology, Hermes saw a way to make his whole messenger schtick a lot easier. Quicksilver communications quickly blossomed into one of the most reliable and profitable telecom businesses around and remains one of the leading brands. The company has evolved to include all kinds of modern communication and remains on the cutting edge of modern technology. It has even produced its own phones, computers and tv's. While Quicksilver may be Hermes greatest success, his restless nature has also led him to set up several smaller companies including several gyms, a bike messenger service (A personal favorite. It brings back memories.) and even a small flight school outside of New York City.
Despite all of his success, Hermes still kind of longs for the adventure and excitement of days gone by. He throws himself into extreme sports with reckless abandon, simply for the adrenaline rush. As much as he likes his life, he would much rather have his full power back.
|Opinion on Mortals|
Hermes finds humans funny. They amuse him when he's bored. Their antics are occasionally ridiculous. It's like watching a group of monkeys in a zoo throw their own poop at each other. He knows he probably shouldn't laugh but he can't help it. But at the same time, he kind of admires them. He admires their spirit and their passion. And while he would never admit it...they inspire him.
|Theme Song|
Adrenalize – In This Moment
”I'm here for one drug
I'm only here for one thing
So come on and tell me,
Can you fly like you're free?”
|Favorite Myth|
The Odyssey ("I taught Homer everything he knows")
vs. Immortal
|Mortal Skills/Abilities|
During his time as a god, Hermes never really needed a weapon. But since becoming a mortal, he has become quite proficient in their use. His favourite is the staff and the bow. He gained a new respect for Artemis after trying to master the bow. He has also moved with the times and is skilled in the use of modern firearms. While he is also skilled in the use of his good old fists, he generally prefers not to get into a fight at all and will generally talk his way out of trouble. He's rather skilled with words.
As a messenger, Hermes was particularly impressed by the invention of email. Such a thing would have made his old job far easier. When he figured out how to email, he also gained an interest in computers and technology in general and has become quite tech savvy.
He is also a talented musician, preferring stringed instruments. He did invent the lyre after all. ("And on the day I was born...Yeah, it's okay to be impressed.")
As a god, Hermes often acted as a bearer of souls to the underworld. Lost souls still occasionally find their way to him and end up causing paranormal activity in the area.
|Immortal Skills/Abilities|
Hermes can run at incredible speed, but not to the extent he could as a God...What a conveniently placed sentence. He will slowly regain much of the speed he possessed as a god and will likely annoy everyone in the process.
He also occasionally still sees spirits wandering here and there. This ability will likely also increase as he regains his power.
Hermes
"I'm not Mr. Debonair Suave. I'm just a guy who goofs around, pulls pranks, and makes jokes."
James Alfero
"Smart guy but when it comes to dealing with people, he's clueless."
James and Jack are very different people. James doesn't really understand how to talk to people whereas Jack's job is all about talking to people. Jack finds James odd but will occasionally take it upon himself to try and help his fellow god better understand humanity. He tends to quickly lose patience however and moves on to something else.
Umiko Ryudo
"Umiko is...nice...I guess."
Jack has mixed feelings about Umiko. On the one hand, she seems friendly enough with a compassionate nature that Jack admires. But on the other hand, there's something about her that makes him feel uneasy. There's a somewhat cold side to her and he feels like she could snap at a moment's notice.
Hadrian Pryde
"Good old uncle Hades. Creepy as ever."
Hermes always thought Hades was creepy. He didn't like to be around the king of the underworld when he was a god but he didn't really have a choice. In his duties as a psychopomp, he frequently had to escort souls to Hades domain and as such had to deal with the grumpy old weirdo. And Hermes isn't entirely sure if Hades has forgiven him for stealing Persephone from him back in the day...So there's that.
Amane Mikami
"Amane is great...Do you know if she's seeing anyone?"
Hermes has always liked Benzaiten. She's friendly and easy to get along with. She's always up for a conversation, which is always good in Hermes opinion. It seems only natural that these two would get on, considering their personalities. Even in their human lives they try to stay in touch but this is made somewhat difficult by the fact that Jack is always so busy.
Ellen Dove
"Two faced and spiteful. But at least one of those faces is easy on the eye."
Hermes has always had strongly mixed feelings for Aphrodite. He knows her well enough to know that she's a spoiled, spiteful little brat who will do absolutely anything to get her way...But he also knows that that can be entertaining. So long as her spite isn't aimed at him or someone he cares about, he may be willing to let her get away with things just to see the fallout.
Hewitt Danford
"Arrogant musclehead. But he does at least try to help people, so he's not all bad...I guess."
Jack really only knows Hewitt because of his relationship with Persephone/Kora Black. Hermes has been trying to win Persephone over since long before the fall of the gods. Even before Persephone's long relationship with Hades. Hermes knows that Persephone and Huit are in a relationship but he doesn't let that stop him from underhandedly flirting with Persephone every time Huit isn't looking.
Andrew Jackley
"What you character will say out loud about this person here"
Write more in depth about their relationship here.
Jordan Natter
"What you character will say out loud about this person here"
Write more in depth about their relationship here.
Sebastian Morales
"We related slightly over the whole 'god of merchants and travellers' thing but the guy's kind of a jerk."
Back in the day, Hermes and Maximón were both gods of travellers and merchants but Hermes never really likes the other god. This is mostly because Max is an obnoxious shithead but his dislike also stems from the fact that he sees elements of himself in Max. Not that he'd ever admit that to anyone.
Regan Macguire
"What you character will say out loud about this person here"
Write more in depth about their relationship here.
Kora Black
"I like her a lot but she has terrible taste in men...Unfortunately"
Hermes has been dropping in on Persephone for millennia as he tries to win her over. Even before Persephone's long relationship with Hades, Hermes was giving her gifts and trying to get her into his bed...or any bed really. But she continually turned him down. Not that that stopped him trying. Even after the fall of the gods, Hermes continued to drop in on her from time to time. He would bat his eyelashes and smile at her then dash off again when his attention was drawn to something else. He continues to be a whirlwind spinning in and out of her life every now and then and shamelessly flirting with her, even if she's in a relationship. Persephone's current relationship confounds him.
Sable Amasi
"What you character will say out loud about this person here"
Write more in depth about their relationship here.
June Fallon
"Have you ever seen that picture of the grumpy cat?...."
Hermes has always tried his very best to be nice to Nemesis but she's such a gloomy guss that she always brings him down whenever she's around. It's gotten to the point where he kind of tries to avoid her now. As a god of luck, Hermes was always fond of bestowing luck upon mortals whom he likes. Nemesis had a habit of undoing all of his work and gave some spiel about 'equilibrium' or whatever. He knows she has a point but it was still kind of annoying.
Emmanuel Welch
"What you character will say out loud about this person here"
Write more in depth about their relationship here.
Nicole Harrow
"What's not to love?"
Hermes and Nike always got along like a house on fire. Both gods had seemingly boundless energy. Both are happy and friendly people. Hermes is the god of athleticism and Nike is the goddess of victory. It's only natural that the two would be drawn to each other. Even in their human lives they are drawn together with Jack often hiring Nicole to work in one of the many gyms he owns.
Lawrence Lafferty
"What you character will say out loud about this person here"
Write more in depth about their relationship here.
Querido Castillo
"What you character will say out loud about this person here"
Write more in depth about their relationship here.
Stephen Lord
"What you character will say out loud about this person here"
Write more in depth about their relationship here.
Wolfgang Reinhardt
"What you character will say out loud about this person here"
Write more in depth about their relationship here.
Helena Hansen
"What you character will say out loud about this person here"
Write more in depth about their relationship here.
Jean-François Salomon
"What you character will say out loud about this person here"
Write more in depth about their relationship here.
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Alias: Kora Black
Kora leaned over and picked the yellow dandelion from the tiny patch of grass at her feet. Sure, dandelions weren’t real flowers, but Kora love them nonetheless. They were disregarded as weeds by humanity and it always made her a little sad. She ran her index finger along the satin petals and smiled. The sun was directly overhead, hanging magnificently in a cloudless sky. She loved coming out to the park on her lunch break. It was one of the few places in the area with natural growing grass.
The weather was warm and very little breeze blew. It was just transitioning from spring to summer and she was exhausted. Living in New Mexico was a completely new experience for her. She had always enjoyed living in areas that flourished with vegetation but had hit a point in her life that she needed something different. What could have more different that living in a land with almost no vegetation?
Kora dropped the weed to the ground and started to wander back toward her jeep. She needed to get back to the office to finish paperwork for an acquisition of a smaller cosmetics company that had been in the works for months. She was excited because this possession would allow for an opportunity that she had wanted to implement for years now - full figuring models for advertising. The company that Vanity was taking over had a clause in their contract for hiring models and would, by default, push out the modeling company that Kora had originally signed with.
She reached her silver, topless Jeep Rubicon and hopped inside. She pushed in the clutch, started the engine and smelled the faint aroma of french fries. She had custom ordered the vehicle to run off of used cooking oil, saving the earth from hazardous emissions that were made by gasoline and diesel fuels. She glanced over her left shoulder to back out of the parking spot she had taken and immediately stepped on the breaks. Her mother, Demeter, stood directly behind her.
Kora shut of the engine, hopped out of the driver’s seat, and casually walked toward the rear of the car. Demeter remained in place, her stance wide, as if she was preparing for battle. Maybe she was. Kora crossed her arms as she stood toe to toe with the other woman. Demeter simply smiled before Kora started, “What are you doing here mother? I thought we agreed we would give each other space for a while.” Demeter reached forward and moved a free flowing lock of Kora’s chocolate brown hair behind her daughter’s ear. Kora casually lifted her hand and pushed her mother’s away. “Well?” She asked, slightly cocking an eyebrow.
“Oh Persephone,” Demeter bit out, “cut the attitude. You know it hurt me when you and Hades split. I wanted what was best for you. Even if I wasn’t a fan of him in the beginning, neither of us can deny how well he took care of you.”
Kora let out a small burst of laughter before she huffed, “Mother, my name is Kora now. Not Persephone. No goddess powers, no goddess name. I’m turning over a new leaf. And that means no Hades too. Besides, I’m seeing someone new now and I’m really enjoying it.” She dropped her arms, allowing her mother to step a few steps closer. This appeasement gesture, however, didn’t lighten Demeter’s tense mood.
“I heard that,” her mother started, “some Aztec war god. Disgusting really.” She scoffed and started to brush some of the dust off of the back of Kora’s Jeep. Kora grabbed her hand and held it tightly.
“Stop it mother. You’ll scratch the paint.” She chastised. They dropped their intertwined hands. Suddenly Demeter looked over her shoulder, as if someone was listening. Kora sensed the woman’s unease. “What’s the matter, mom? Why are you here?” Demeter grabbed her daughter by the shoulders and looked into her eyes before she spoke.
“Something has happened. Something terrible. We must go to Asgard right now.” Demeter said. Kora was taken aback slightly.
“Asgard?” she asked. “What business do we have in Asgard?”
“Just come Persephone. Right now.” Demeter turned and walked away, her image shimmering the desert heat before it disappeared completely. Kora sighed. As demanding as her mother could be, there was no way she would have sought her daughter out unless the matter was of priority. The spring goddess threw the top back on her vehicle, sent a text to her assistant to start the paperwork without her, and walked herself into the meeting hall of Asgard.
|
Goddess of Spring, Flowers, Youthful Life & Growth
Basic Profile
|Name|
Persephone
|Alias(es)|
Kora Amaryllis Black
Queen of the Underworld
|Gender|
Female
|Sexuality|
Heterosexual
|Pantheon/Faith|
Greek
|Occupation|
CEO of all-natural/vegan cosmetic company Vanity
Appearance
|Godly Appearance|
Reference. Persephone appears as a beautiful young maiden, just on the edge of womanhood. She was an incredibly beautiful young goddess (enough to attract the attention of Hades, who hardly ever left the Underworld). Persephone was described to be a tall young woman with long dark hair that floated and curled as if it were weightless, and her face was beautiful but deathly pale. She was so beautiful in fact, that Adonis had trouble choosing between her and Aphrodite.
|Earthly Appearance|
Persephone chose to take on a human appearance similar to the one she retained as a goddess, although a little taller. She stands 5’ 7” - the perfect height to look into the eyes of her ex husband, Hades. She kept her milky white skin and long dark hair. It served her well in her former life, why change now? She has a slim, soft build despite her lack of exercise. She tends to favor loose, flowy fabrics with an obvious preference for floral patterns.
Who Am I?
|Personality|
Persephone is lively, energetic, and loving. She finds value in all forms of life and hurts when they hurt. She is passionate toward conservation and animal rights projects, often putting her time and money into various organizations that promote vegan lifestyle and earth friendly resources. She often surrounds herself with as many plants as is appropriate. Ok, sometimes it's a little more than what's appropriate...
As far as her relationships, Seph can easily become possessive and jealous of those who are important to her. She is widely known as a flirt but doesn't have an unfaithful bone in her body. She, however, expects her men to be straight laced when in comes to other women - no flirting whatsoever. She is not judgemental in anyway and accepts everyone how they are. She makes friends easily and keeps them as long as they'll have her.
While her previous marriage can get her down at times, she is generally a very happy and content person. Overall, she is laid back but has a strong work ethic and enjoys spontaneity and adventure. She gets bored easily and never seems to run out of energy, especially when she's invested in a project. She has a tendency to jump into life with both feet first and has no regrets.
|Family|
(Ex)Husband - Hades (Lord of the Underworld) - Although they divorced on relatively good terms, Persephone holds some resentment for him not fighting harder to keep her. She did fall in love with him despite their less than standard betrothal.
Mother - Demeter (Goddess of the Harvest) - Persephone hasn't heard from her mother after Seph's decision to "remake herself".
|Strengths|
Passionate
Focused
Creative
Tenacious
Social
|Weaknesses|
Jealous
Posessive
Manipulative
Excessively Flirty
Easily Bored
|Likes|
Presents/Surprises
Being outside
Dancing in the dark
Sex
Making new friends
Protests/marches/sit-ins
Experiencing new things
|Dislikes
Hot tempered men
Being bored
Ignorance
Litter
Animal abusers
Disorganization
Being kept in one place for too long
|History|
As the story goes, Persephone was kidnapped into a marriage with Hades. But what the story doesn't tell you is that Seph fell for Hades. Hard. He worked so hard to make her happy that she saw the man he was beneath his gruff exterior. He brought a darkness to the surface within her that she lavished, and to this day, never gave up. Then, one day a millenia ago, the inevitable happened. Hades realized the error of his ways and released Persephone. She never told him but she was heart broken. She had nothing left in the world at that point - everyone she once loved had abandoned her to the Underwold. So, she decided to remake herself. She wouldn't be the lowly maiden who was taken advantage of anymore. After her godhood was lost and humanity was thrust upon her, she educated herself in business and started an all natural, vegan cosmetic line called Vanity. It quickly rose in popularity and currently sits in the #3 position for all cosmetic lines in the world.
|Opinion on Mortals|
In all honestly, Persephone is apathetic when it comes to humanity. She sees the value of humans and hardly holds godhood over them. With that being said, she finds them incredibly easy to manipulate, most likely due to her obvious beauty.
|Theme Song|
Drops of Jupiter - Train
Now that she's back from that soul vacation
Tracing her way through the constellation, hey
She checks out Mozart while she does Tae-Bo
Reminds me that there's room to grow, hey
Mortal vs. Immortal
|Mortal Skills/Abilities|
*Natural green thumb
*Strong leadership skills
*Can invoke passion in other people, specifically toward vegan and environmental causes
*Can easily pacify tense situations
|Immortal Skills/Abilities|
Chlorokinesis: She has absolute control over flowers and other plants.
Plant Transformation: She can turn anything (even people) into flowers or anything related to flora.
Geokinesis (limited): She can manipulate the earth.
|Favorite Myth|
Orpheus & Eurydice
"I want to experience everything life has to offer. If that means getting my hands a little dirty, I’m ok with that."
Hadrian Pryde
"What can someone say about the first love of their life? If we ever cross paths again, I’ll look in his eyes and know what needs to be said then and there."
Persephone will probably always hold a torch for her former lover. She has willingly moved on but knows that just seeing his face may be enough of spark to light a new fire.
Hewitt Danford
"He has a strength I’ve never seen in another person and the passionate heart of a warrior. I’m just the lucky girl who sees it, even when he hides it from everyone else."
No one would have put the god of War and the peace-loving Persephone together but fate appeared to do just that. Although their relationship can be fiery at times, they seem to have a connection that Seph can't deny. Plus he's hot as hell.
Andrew Jackley
"He’s basically my best friend. He’s like me in a man’s body and I love him for it."
Anubis and Persephone became easy friends and enjoy various activities together, including yoga and underrated (or was that overrated?) B movies.
Heidi Olsen
"She is a beautiful and special girl. I want her to have everything in life."
Freyja and Persephone get along very well. They have similar outlooks on life and enjoy the same things. Their friendship with Anubis makes the trio complete.
Amane Mikami
"Amane is an excellent partner. Her efficiency is unparalleled."
When Persephone approached Benzaiten with the idea to put on a charity gala, Seph was ecstatic at the goddess's enthusiasm for the project. Hopefully together, the two of them can save the world some day.
Ellen Dove
"I know Aphrodite still holds a grudge over what happened with what's his name, but as long as she leaves what's mine alone, I don't have a problem with her."
After the Adonis debacle, Persephone was willing to move on and form some sort of truce with the Goddess of Love. Too bad Aphrodite wasn't willing to do the same...
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Double post - ignore
|
Goddess of Spring, Flowers, Youthful Life & Growth
Basic Profile
|Name|
Persephone
|Alias(es)|
Kora Amaryllis Black
Queen of the Underworld
|Gender|
Female
|Sexuality|
Heterosexual
|Pantheon/Faith|
Greek
|Occupation|
CEO of all-natural/vegan cosmetic company Vanity
Appearance
|Godly Appearance|
Reference. Persephone appears as a beautiful young maiden, just on the edge of womanhood. She was an incredibly beautiful young goddess (enough to attract the attention of Hades, who hardly ever left the Underworld). Persephone was described to be a tall young woman with long dark hair that floated and curled as if it were weightless, and her face was beautiful but deathly pale. She was so beautiful in fact, that Adonis had trouble choosing between her and Aphrodite.
|Earthly Appearance|
Persephone chose to take on a human appearance similar to the one she retained as a goddess, although a little taller. She stands 5’ 7” - the perfect height to look into the eyes of her ex husband, Hades. She kept her milky white skin and long dark hair. It served her well in her former life, why change now? She has a slim, soft build despite her lack of exercise. She tends to favor loose, flowy fabrics with an obvious preference for floral patterns.
Who Am I?
|Personality|
Persephone is lively, energetic, and loving. She finds value in all forms of life and hurts when they hurt. She is passionate toward conservation and animal rights projects, often putting her time and money into various organizations that promote vegan lifestyle and earth friendly resources. She often surrounds herself with as many plants as is appropriate. Ok, sometimes it's a little more than what's appropriate...
As far as her relationships, Seph can easily become possessive and jealous of those who are important to her. She is widely known as a flirt but doesn't have an unfaithful bone in her body. She, however, expects her men to be straight laced when in comes to other women - no flirting whatsoever. She is not judgemental in anyway and accepts everyone how they are. She makes friends easily and keeps them as long as they'll have her.
While her previous marriage can get her down at times, she is generally a very happy and content person. Overall, she is laid back but has a strong work ethic and enjoys spontaneity and adventure. She gets bored easily and never seems to run out of energy, especially when she's invested in a project. She has a tendency to jump into life with both feet first and has no regrets.
|Family|
(Ex)Husband - Hades (Lord of the Underworld) - Although they divorced on relatively good terms, Persephone holds some resentment for him not fighting harder to keep her. She did fall in love with him despite their less than standard betrothal.
Mother - Demeter (Goddess of the Harvest) - Persephone hasn't heard from her mother after Seph's decision to "remake herself".
|Strengths|
Passionate
Focused
Creative
Tenacious
Social
|Weaknesses|
Jealous
Posessive
Manipulative
Excessively Flirty
Easily Bored
|Likes|
Presents/Surprises
Being outside
Dancing in the dark
Sex
Making new friends
Protests/marches/sit-ins
Experiencing new things
|Dislikes
Hot tempered men
Being bored
Ignorance
Litter
Animal abusers
Disorganization
Being kept in one place for too long
|History|
As the story goes, Persephone was kidnapped into a marriage with Hades. But what the story doesn't tell you is that Seph fell for Hades. Hard. He worked so hard to make her happy that she saw the man he was beneath his gruff exterior. He brought a darkness to the surface within her that she lavished, and to this day, never gave up. Then, one day a millenia ago, the inevitable happened. Hades realized the error of his ways and released Persephone. She never told him but she was heart broken. She had nothing left in the world at that point - everyone she once loved had abandoned her to the Underwold. So, she decided to remake herself. She wouldn't be the lowly maiden who was taken advantage of anymore. After her godhood was lost and humanity was thrust upon her, she educated herself in business and started an all natural, vegan cosmetic line called Vanity. It quickly rose in popularity and currently sits in the #3 position for all cosmetic lines in the world.
|Opinion on Mortals|
In all honestly, Persephone is apathetic when it comes to humanity. She sees the value of humans and hardly holds godhood over them. With that being said, she finds them incredibly easy to manipulate, most likely due to her obvious beauty.
|Theme Song|
Drops of Jupiter - Train
Now that she's back from that soul vacation
Tracing her way through the constellation, hey
She checks out Mozart while she does Tae-Bo
Reminds me that there's room to grow, hey
Mortal vs. Immortal
|Mortal Skills/Abilities|
*Natural green thumb
*Strong leadership skills
*Can invoke passion in other people, specifically toward vegan and environmental causes
*Can easily pacify tense situations
|Immortal Skills/Abilities|
Chlorokinesis: She has absolute control over flowers and other plants.
Plant Transformation: She can turn anything (even people) into flowers or anything related to flora.
Geokinesis (limited): She can manipulate the earth.
|Favorite Myth|
Orpheus & Eurydice
"I want to experience everything life has to offer. If that means getting my hands a little dirty, I’m ok with that."
Hadrian Pryde
"What can someone say about the first love of their life? If we ever cross paths again, I’ll look in his eyes and know what needs to be said then and there."
Persephone will probably always hold a torch for her former lover. She has willingly moved on but knows that just seeing his face may be enough of spark to light a new fire.
Hewitt Danford
"He has a strength I’ve never seen in another person and the passionate heart of a warrior. I’m just the lucky girl who sees it, even when he hides it from everyone else."
No one would have put the god of War and the peace-loving Persephone together but fate appeared to do just that. Although their relationship can be fiery at times, they seem to have a connection that Seph can't deny. Plus he's hot as hell.
Andrew Jackley
"He’s basically my best friend. He’s like me in a man’s body and I love him for it."
Anubis and Persephone became easy friends and enjoy various activities together, including yoga and underrated (or was that overrated?) B movies.
Heidi Olsen
"She is a beautiful and special girl. I want her to have everything in life."
Freyja and Persephone get along very well. They have similar outlooks on life and enjoy the same things. Their friendship with Anubis makes the trio complete.
Amane Mikami
"Amane is an excellent partner. Her efficiency is unparalleled."
When Persephone approached Benzaiten with the idea to put on a charity gala, Seph was ecstatic at the goddess's enthusiasm for the project. Hopefully together, the two of them can save the world some day.
Ellen Dove
"I know Aphrodite still holds a grudge over what happened with what's his name, but as long as she leaves what's mine alone, I don't have a problem with her."
After the Adonis debacle, Persephone was willing to move on and form some sort of truce with the Goddess of Love. Too bad Aphrodite wasn't willing to do the same...
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3,167
| 70
| 8
| 1,523
| 3,443
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Location: Hadrian’s House, England; then to Asgard.
Interacting With: Janus
A day in the life of the Pryde household, gone wrong in the worst way possible:
“So. What causes earthquakes?” Hadrian asked Astra, who had a textbook cracked open in front of her. They were in the study, her behind the desk listening intently while the God of Death re-shelved the dusty books and tomes he'd collected over the years, just for the fun of it. He tossed an ornately engraved skull between his hands, almost juggling it, before setting it atop the replica canopic jars. “Do you know how they happen?”
Astra hemmed and hawed, contemplating the answer, before answering, “Um. When Poseidon gets angry?”
Hadrian grinned but thankfully hid it because his back was turned. He knew that making up those bedtime stories about his Pantheon (though of course rendered PG-13 with some careful edits) would end up being interesting in the future. “Wrong subject, luv. We're doing Geography,” he said apologetically. “But of course, you are one-hundred percent correct.”
Thank God it sounded like he was being insincere.
Astra started flipping through the textbook, trying to be stealthy about it, so Hadrian clapped his hands and told her, "Plates! Plates in the earth. Tectonic plates, if you're being fancy about it. Use the glossary and have a look." Hadrian sipped on his tumbler of whisky as his daughter buckled down and (correctly) flipped to the back of the book. Really, if someone had told him two millennia ago that he would be home-schooling his daughter – or that he would even have a daughter – he would have called them out for lying, probably.
“Should I do the questions?”
Something prickled at the back of Hadrian’s neck but he wrote it off as a spirit coming near the boundaries of his perception. “Yeah, do the questions. Write in full sentences, remember, and–” He faltered as the sense of wrongness didn’t leave him after a shudder rippled down his spine. “–and use ink. You need to practice your hand-writing.”
“Okidoki,” Astra said cheerfully, but Hadrian barely heard her. He turned back to the shelves but didn’t continue cleaning up. Instead, he put his hand on one of the emptier levels to hold himself up given that it was the nearest flat surface.
What. Was. That?
There was a great absence in the world, all of a sudden. He wasn’t entirely sure what had caused it, but he could make an educated death. This was what it was like when one of his fellow gods died – not in the way that they could be stitched back together or automatically regenerate. This wasn’t a beheading, or a poisoning, or any other such mortal method that would do nothing to them. It was sheer, bloody eradication of a massive soul.
It wasn’t Zeus. Hades would know if it was someone from his own Pantheon: they’d go straight to the Underworld, if their spirit continued to exist. As far as he was concerned, there was one other god or goddess equal to his so-called brother, and that was the Norse god, Odin.
Something unwound. His eyes throbbed once, twice, before they returned to a passive state and the world reasserted itself, if in a bit of a haze. Hadrian reached for his drink and downed it. For such a powerful deity to have died… he must have been killed by something that wasn’t just nature.
“–ad? Dad? When it asks me to match the meanings up, can I write it on the book?”
“Spaced out there for a minute, sorry luv. Nah,” Hadrian rubbed the tension from the back of his neck. “Full sentences. Notebook.” He turned back around to smile in his daughter’s direction, but it froze in place on his face. Hadrian credited years of deceit to being able to maintain the expression even after it turned weak, almost watery, though his brows furrowed.
He looked at Astra, eight years old, and saw red numbers above her head. They were fluid, faint, as it hadn’t yet been determined when she was going to die yet (though it seemed certainly inevitable at this point). Hadrian stuffed his hands in his pockets. The seal on his powers had been loosened a little, just in time to be utterly devastating. Couldn’t they have shown up thirty years ago? No, couldn’t they show up a century from now? The one time he’d ever enjoyed being, well, human, and they had to go and steal that away from him, too.
“When you’re done, you can go and play. Get Mik to make you lunch,” he told her. “I think I need to be somewhere today.” Hadrian moved to flee the room.
As Hadrian advanced, the upstairs bathroom door slammed open and from the metal stairwell, James came thudding down. “You have any scotch?” he stopped at the bottom, locking eyes with Astra and immediately smiling—the pinched one, where it’s obvious he regretted everything that just came out of his mouth. “I mean, uh… you might wanna sit down for this?” he tried and gave Hadrian an apologetic grimace.
Hadrian moved to one of the many glass decanters scattered around the study and poured himself a glass, then James. He practically shoved it into his friend’s hands. “Astra, second thought – it’s just geography; it’s not gonna get you anywhere in life. Go bother your brother, will you? Wake him up if he’s not already, it’s 2 o’clock.”
Dutifully, he watched his daughter leave the room before beating James to the punch. “Odin’s dead, right? Unless it’s Thor, but I’m fairly sure...”
“Yeah, I’m still cleaning off the ashes from my good shirt—woops,” James said. He gave a glance down at his stark white button up. It wouldn’t kill him, but maybe white hadn’t been such a good idea when he got the call. “Anyway, you think Mikey’s good to watch Astra for a while? For a while. Tyr’s tasked me with summoning everyone,” he gestured up the stairs with a free hand then proceeded to down the entirety of his drink, “They’ve got a few suspects. I convinced them not to question you, however. Good thing I’m a pest right? Gives you a good alibi.”
The smile he gave Hadrian barely held together and, knowing it might concern his friend, James refused to look beyond the steps of the stairs as he began his climb.
“So I get a house-call instead of a magical Door opening in front of my face? I feel special,” Hadrian said sarcastically though there was no real bitterness behind it, and a smile – or as close to one as he could manage – threatened to appear on his face. He set down his glass, now empty. “But you weren’t here when Odin died. For all you know, I could have been out there murdering and all that.”
Hadrian rubbed the back of his neck and decided to ask James something he’d never, ever done for anyone else – not even when he was escorting the tearful souls of mothers into whatever afterlife they deserved. “Are– Are you okay? I mean, seeing Odin… having kicked the bucket like that...”
Something just about fell from James’ lips, but the taller man sucked in a breath and smiled down at Hadrian. “I think I’ll be good,” which really translated into ‘At least it wasn’t you or your kids.’ Of course, James would never vocally say that, not until it really mattered.
“And,” he paused his movement up the stairs to look Hadrian properly in the eyes. A tinge of something flared in the hazel there, even if James’ face never gave it away. “Don’t say that. They’re anal up in Asgard; they’ll take that as seriously as you deliver it,” James said, an unnatural sternness in his voice, though it lacked the authority he attempted to convey, “Please?”
Hadrian nodded, slowly, breaking eye contact first with a deep breath. “Fine, I won’t.” If James was willing to lie for him then, well, that was his problem. (No it wasn’t.) When they reached the landing, Hadrian clapped him on the shoulder before moving through the Door. “I appreciate it. Now – bets on all of Loki’s kids being rude, disrespectful little shits? Even the ones I like.” The change in subject was abrupt, probably because Hadrian had the emotional range of a teaspoon.
James rolled his eyes, letting the door shut behind Hadrian. “If they make me laugh, Tyr’s gonna kill me,” James said, letting a chuckle fall, “but, that just means no one to pester you anymore. Win-win?” When they passed the arches, James continued toward where they began setting things up. He knew Hadrian wouldn’t follow, but he glanced behind him regardless.
Hadrian raised a hand and waved – sort of – a smirk crossing his face as he turned to take a seat.
He tried not to look for Persephone in the crowds, and he tried not to laugh as multiple gods gave no shit about Odin being dead. While Hadrian could understand people not liking the guy as he'd heard that he was as bad as Zeus, this was bad. Really bad. He couldn't help but scowl as a result, however, when they were expected to stay put.
"I get that this is terrible that Odin died and we should all be worried about our own safety," Hadrian said, only trying to placate Tyr with a disclaimer in case he decided to keep him for questioning anyway. "But I agree with Nike and... Hermes too, I suppose. I've got bills to pay and, I don't know, people to murder. Please don't take too long."
Location: Asgard
Interacting With: Nobody in particular – mentions of Helena and Jordan.
An equal number of cans of Red Bull and cartons of orange juice littered Lawrence Lafferty’s desk as he stared with single-minded intensity at the computer screen, gaze slipping every so often to the stream’s chat function. Of course, there were people complaining about the state of his room with its peeling wallpaper and flickering light – which had been there since September, so they had to get with the times – and it made the corners of Loki’s mouth twitch up into a grin for the thirty-third time that day. It was only 2AM.
(And yes, he was counting.)
Playing Counter-Strike was probably one of the most boring things he could imagine doing on a daily basis, which is why it was a weekend thing – Saturdays only, a side-job. He only played terrorist, and he far preferred to stab people rather than shoot them. It was more like ye olden days that way. It meant he got killed.
A lot.
Maybe he was a little masochistic, still.
His leg had started bouncing up and down restlessly twenty minutes before the reflection in the mirror facing the door changed, glimmered and morphed as it opened to a view that was certainly not his kitchen. There was a significant lack of neatly stacked up take out containers and pyramids made out of cereal boxes. Instead, he could see Asgard 2.0 and people. Loki considered not registering that it was there, but he was certainly honour-bound to see what was so important that the gods were being called together. Well, honour-bound was a little too strong a term; curiosity was more applicable.
“Sorry, guys, someone’s at the door. I gotta go,” he said with a wink and jaunty salute into his webcam before he pulled the plug out of the socket in impatience, because pressing the power button wasn’t fast enough. After a quick glance in the mirror again to check that his unshaven appearance was passable and running a hand through his short hair in place of a comb to even it out, he grabbed his jacket and staggered through for a desperate taste of what it was like to be a God again.
Loki stalked in like he owned the place and tried hard not to be obvious as he searched for his kids. He saw Hel – and waved – and Jordan, and grinned. They were going to blame his kids, weren't they, for whoever died? Or himself, but Loki wasn't bothered about that prospect. Being a prime suspect and ready to take the blame was fun.
He had a look at Odin's stony form and almost laughed at the horrible, horrible luck. There was no almost about it, in fact. With one foot up on his chair, holding his knee close to him, he stifled a snort of laughter in his sleeve. Then a much louder one. Even being in the front row, he couldn't suppress the giggles that bubbled up completely.
It was just too ironic, Odin being the first of them to die. It was just a shame that Loki didn't get to do it himself – or see Fenrir do it.
|
King of the Underworld; God of Death, Riches, and Regret
Basic Profile
|Name|
Hades
|Alias(es)|
Pluto
Hadrian Pryde
|Gender|
Male
|Sexuality|
Bisexual – Death doesn't discriminate, so neither does he.
|Relationship Status|
Single
|Pantheon/Faith|
Greco-Roman
|Occupation|
Celebrity Medium & Occultist – At one point maybe five years ago, Hadrian had a stage show where he would go around the country (and even, on several occasions, to Vegas) and speak to audience members' dead relatives to give them peace or some such rot. He was paid very, very well for this, and still does 'house calls' on occasion. Even though he's the King of the Underworld and can see the spirits, without his powers he can't talk to them, thus it's mostly a charade.
|Godly Appearance|
Reference. He used to be taller, for one, with skin a unique shade of grey from the rot and decay he surrounded himself with in the Underworld. Hades had black eyes that were always much darker than their surroundings, even in Elysian Fields. The armor he wore was just a simple chest-plate, dark grey, covered by a cloak and very occasionally the look would be topped off with a crown of silver and bone – a look he has described in recent years to be his "goth phase". He also used to drink, a lot, hence the drinking horn that he's typically depicted with in what the humans count as mythology. He never used a scepter – more like a sword, but those days are dead and gone.
Get it? Dead and gone?
|Earthly Appearance|
When asked why his mortal appearance isn't someone exquisite and beautiful, the sort that could attract all sorts of women and men, Hades shrugs. The answer is because he had never been interested in any of that personally. Hades (or Hadrian, now) appears as a fairly attractive man in his mid-thirties, just young enough so as not to look out of place in gatherings of the former Gods and old enough so that age has changed his face somewhat with laugh lines and creases on his forehead.
Hades is a bottle-blonde, flawlessly so. Exhaustion is evident from the dark stains of sleepless nights under his eyes. At only 5'7", Hades is not particularly tall, though in his head he likes to bump that up to 5'9" to impress. Even so, he does appear somewhat intimidating, if only because his eyebrows are near-permanently fixed into an angry or sullen angle. He is often unkempt, dressed in greying shirts with a crooked tie. Stubble is an eternal feature on his face.
Other than that, he has a tattoo, though not anything special. You wouldn't think Hades would be the type to get a tramp stamp; however, he has his daughter's and his son's names on his wrist along with their dates of birth.
Am I?
|Personality|
It's hard not to be angry when your fellow gods and goddesses used to let you out of your damp, dark Underworld only twice a year. Hades is an unpopular figure in mythology, and like most myths, it's based in truth: he's bitter, vengeful, self-righteous and, of course, as hot-headed as even the god of war. A certain sense of pessimism leaks from him. That death will come for everyone he cares about before it does him has become a bit of a sticking point, the impetus behind his drinking problem and a motivating factor for an unhealthily mopey lifestyle.
That being said, he's calmed down a lot in the last twenty or so years. There were centuries when he didn't even smile at something (other than a particularly funny set of entrails) but now he has some enjoyment in his life on most days. Even if he has the same morbid, particularly sarcastic and edgy sense of humour, sometimes the little things give him the warm and fuzzies now too: butterflies, children, puppies. It's ironic that its only when the world seems to be coming to an end that he finds something he might be able to care deeply about; Astra and Mikhael, and maybe even a few of his godly friends too.
The God of Death and the King of the Underworld enjoys teaching children and showing up how good he can be to the snobbish ladies at the parenting classes he attended. Though, he does seem to unintentionally flirt with them with his accidental, anti-hero charm, and is completely taken aback when someone bluntly asks him if he's single. Hades doesn't understand emotions very well.
|Family|
Mikhael Pryde – Twenty years old, and still living at home. Hades didn't raise his son and oldest child Mikhael until he was ten years old and constant nightmares and spooky happenings had his mother at her wits' end. He's a smart kid, very much into history, but more like his father than he thinks. Somehow, somehow, Mikhael has no idea that he's 'special' either, if only because his father's a cunning liar, but he's getting closer to the truth every day. Mikhael attended public school and was bullied horribly – something Hades could sort of relate to, in a strange way – resulting in a closer father-son bond. But, God, he's got to stop blasting those Bowie tracks at full volume!
Astra Pryde – Eight years old. Astra is Hades' daughter and also a demigod although her father has gone to great lengths to stop any minor abilities from manifesting, such as meditation and staying away from places where spirits congregate. He has been delaying enrolling her in public school and has instead turned to home-schooling, though it has become a daily argument. Her knowledge of various mythologies would probably horrify most schoolteachers, though they're the ones who've got it wrong – not that Astra has any idea of the truth. She is particularly sheltered, if only because the former God of the Underworld is a tad overprotective of his youngest child.
Charles / Charon – Hades' faithful friend and original ferryman of the Underworld. When the pact was made to abandon one's godly powers, Hades forced Charon to undertake the same rite and ended up with a valet, of sorts. He is a man of good humour and dedication to his job, if a little too impersonal at times.
Cerberus – Is there really much to say? A purebred German Shepard, well-trained and good with kids. Five years old, and while he was a gift for his daughter's Christmas one year, it ended up being Hades' faithful companion, just like his namesake. He's just a bit more intelligent than normal dogs, almost to the point where it's scary.
|Strengths|
Tactical Mind
Good Liar
Enduring
Hard-Working
Observant
|Weaknesses|
Selfish
Old-Fashioned
Isolationist
Untrustworthy
Insomniac
|Likes|
Dogs
His Children
Teaching
Pacifism
Drinking
Wild Animals – Deer, Rabbits, Foxes, etc.
Winter
|Dislikes
War
Ex-Wives and Ex-Girlfriends
Most Other Gods (and Goddesses)
Chaos and Disorder
Power
Death and Disease
Love
|History|
Hades used to be an important figure in Greek mythology, and at one point he wasn't a villain – someone mortals cursed under their breath. He was one of the six original Olympian Gods and fought in the Titanomarchy, a war of Gods versus Titans. They won, and that's where things started to go sour for him as they decided upon their domains. His brothers had the sea and the sky, but he was given the Underworld, the realm where the dead go and command of all things beneath the earth.
Hades was dissatisfied with this, as one could imagine. He was not so much a God as he was a jailor, shepherding souls through the gates of the afterlife. When he left the Underworld, he had to do so with invisibility, because leaving one's realm usurped the balance – and it tended to cause problems with Poseidon and Zeus, who he may have tried to steal from and/or kill several times.
While it's important to note that the whole debacle with Persephone really did happen, and he did kidnap a wife for himself despite breaking ties with Demeter all the while, Hades hates talking about it more than anything. They did 'break up' after joining the mortal realm, after all. Similarly, he doesn't speak of all the demigods and heroes who ventured into his realm on quests and never returned, being trapped by his hand for trying to cheat death. The only difference is that he doesn't regret those actions – except perhaps Orpheus; he shouldn't have let Orpheus live.
He rather liked Heracles though.
After the great era of Gods fighting against Gods had subsided, and word was sent out to the different Pantheons of a pact they had to sign – one to shelve their abilities and powers and never touch them again lets they be needed – Hades protested, loudly. Zeus had to force him to sign it, and he only did so if Charon signed too rather than being confined to the Underworld for all eternity so as to follow him into the mortal world. It was inevitable, and Hades was cut off from his domain.
As a mortal, Hades went through some rough times. He was a soldier for a time in the Middle Ages, then decided that a scholarly life was more for him – safe and isolated. More than a few urban legends were created centering him as some immortal wretch or necromancer, which was too close to the truth for comfort. Though at least half a century was spent travelling the world that he rarely got to see as a God of the Underworld, often solving spiritual issues and giving readings and avoiding being burnt at the stake as a witch, he eventually settled in Britain, and since then has moved from city to pastoral area again and again so as not to be caught out unaware.
Notable involvement in history was being a complete hermit during the Black Death and the much later World Wars, if only because so many souls were getting 'stuck' and restless without proper command over the Underworld. It was probably the last time Hadrian wished he was still Hades. Finally, in more recent times, he's had two children to two different women. He's also considering becoming a teacher in future decades.
|Opinion on Mortals|
"Why do these tweens keep worshiping me? I'm not some lord of chaos and destruction! God!"
Hades could be considered irate over his prevalence in pop-culture, as well as what he considers to be a 'one-sided' story both in ancient history and modern day myth. He may have kidnapped a goddess to keep as his wife and imprisoned her for a few months every year, but he's not all grim and dark as people think. Other than the misinformation they present about him, Hades has – surprisingly – no beef with mortals whatsoever. While he spent most of his time as a pseudo-human disliking them and staying away from them, his children are mortal so he can't hate them at all, only the short-lived nature of their existence.
That being said, he wants all mortals bar two to stay the Hell away from him. The only humans he has time for are Astra and Mikhael and, well, family's different.
|Theme Song|
High Hopes – Kodaline
”But I've got high hopes, it takes me back to when we started
High hopes, when you let it go, go out and start again
High hopes, oh, when it all comes to an end
Now the world keeps spinning.”
vs. Immortal
|Mortal Skills/Abilities|
Hades knows how to fight with a sword since it's mostly like riding a bike. Though he didn't have much use for it in his godly days, in the Viking Ages of Anglo-Saxon England it was very important, and since then he hasn't given it up.
Languages are important, though the dead don't speak any one in particular. Hades has a talent for learning them and over the centuries he's found himself able to speak a variety of them. He usually sticks to the ones of the main pantheons: Old English and Old Norse; Japanese (though he's a little rusty); Finnish and Gaeilge... Of course, some of those are antiquated languages and of no use in modern times.
Hades thinks himself a far better father than Zeus or any other god who happened to 'spread his seed' very far. He knows how to cook and clean and plan a day, as well as how to teach – his daughter is home-schooled for now, and he gave his son extra tutoring. Hades is a fairly smart guy, all things considered, and it's not just experience brought on with age.
|Immortal Skills/Abilities|
You can take the God out of the Underworld, but you can't take the Underworld out of the God. Hades has an irreversible connection to the realm of the dead and therefore will always be able to see the spirits of the long-deceased, particularly those who were not admitted into the afterlife and are still skulking around the Earth. Over time, he'll get his ability to communicate with these spirits back and eventually the ability to command them.
Similarly, Hades knows when people die, and people die according to a schedule, thank you very much. He sees mostly everyone's dates of death above their heads, if they have one determined yet, putting a bit of a downer on the whole mortal thing. They can be changed however. He dreads seeing his family's and friend's dates as his powers return.
Finally, other than commanding the armies of the dead souls in Hades and controlling shadows, he can also both things to decay at a marvelous rate and destroy souls that have already been ejected from their bodies, denying them a place in the afterlife – but he won't do the latter again. Ever. He swears. That power will probably be the last to come back, and unstable at best. It was fuelled by anger, after all.
|Favorite Myth|
Artemis and Orion
"I'm in one of those anti-social moods, luv, hence the headphones. I don't need to listen to this rot."
James Alfero → Janus
"My door is always open for Janus. Ha. No, I said that just to make the joke – it's really not. Stop visiting me."
For his own good, James should definitely not show up anymore, though at this point in time his presence is not even unexpected anymore. That's Hadrian's opinion on the matter. He had been perfectly fine as a hermit, holing up in his house, and then suddenly he has kids, and then he has a tag-along, teleporting Roman God on his doorstep. He's been brusque with him, he probably yelled at him a few times back in the early days and on at least one occasion that he can recall, Hadrian threw a glass at him, just to see what he would do.
An occasion that he feels deep, deep regret over, and might have actually apologised for... five years after it happened. Nobody ever called Hades a good person.
Now, however, he's stuck. Hadrian can't do anything about it – Astra would probably cry, and Mikhael would get salty with him because Hades is fairly certain his son likes Janus more than him – and he's not sure he wants to. If there ever comes a time when James doesn't show up for an extended period of time, it might not be healthy for Hadrian's mental well-being and/or his drinking problem. The Roman god's presence has pretty much been a constant for the last decade or so, and though Hadrian often complains about how often he's over, amusing his kids and sometimes bringing a smile to his own face, it's gotten to the point where he doesn't even blink before uncorking a bottle of wine to share and, dare he say it, fussing.
Umiko Ryudo → Ryūjin
"Astra's had playdates with Ryūjin's kid 'sister'. I suppose that explains it all, really."
Write more in depth about their relationship here.
Ellen Dove → Aphrodite
"Stop showing up uninvited to my house and taking my daughter for make-up lessons! What are you, twelve?"
Hadrian can say without a fraction of a doubt that he has never wanted to have sex with Aphrodite, thank you very much. That's not to say she hasn't tried the heavy flirting on for size – thankfully not in front of Astra, Mikhael however... – but there's no expectation there, thankfully. She's beautiful, a fact of which he has no doubt, but he'd always preferred a sense of innocence, and there is no denying that it is something Ellen absolutely doesn't have along with a sense of shame.
You'd think she would have learned not to try her illusions on him, though, after the umpteenth time he saw through them. He checks his drinks when he's around, just to make sure she hasn't dosed him with some love potion.
Sometimes, Hadrian thinks she shows up just for the free meal, because if he's making it for the kids and occasionally Janus, she might as well tag along, right? He feels a migraine approaching every time she shows up and does Astra's hair or makes some subtle innuendo. Why James is friends with her, he doesn't know.
Amane Mikami → Benzaiten
"I know her through her younger brother, Daisuke. It's hard not to know the other Gods pertaining to your domain."
Write more in depth about their relationship here.
Hewitt Danford → Huitzilopochtli
"I'm not mad that he's Prosperina's new paramour, not at all. Why would you think that?"
Hadrian's just a tiny bit put out by the whole situation. Okay, maybe a bit more than what he lets on. And multiply that by a hundred times, perhaps. He's heard the news through the grapevine, of course, and it's almost entirely his fault that he hasn't talked to or seen Persephone – Kora Black – in millennia, but that doesn't stop the salt from stinging at wounds that didn't quite heal over properly the first time.
The biggest sticking point for Hadrian on Hewitt is that somehow, this meathead is a better person than him. Probably. He did have a whole lot of human sacrifice going on back in the day, and maybe when he next meets his ex-wife he'll point that out. If he could stop with the constant warfare, too, that would be nice. They would never have been on good terms anyway, but Hadrian is fairly certain that most of his beef with Huitzilopochtli (and don't even ask him to pronounce that name) is a big inferiority complex rather than actual dislike for the god.
Andrew Jackley → Anubis
"I hope he's suffering just as much as I am right now with all the souls messing up the place. You know what they say – misery loves company."
Don't let the sour tone fool you – Hadrian likes Andrew. For all that they're from different Pantheons, they're similar in quite a few ways, and thank the gods for that! He supposes he's a little jealous of Anubis, actually, because he's still involved with death and the afterlife in his mortal career – and while Hades is too, it's far less... savoury an option and a bit disrespectful to the souls clogging up the world.
Still, for two reserved guys meeting up once in a blue moon for coffee, they could be considered good friends. Hadrian's just glad that at least one other God shares his pacifistic and non-violent world view, even if it'll be forcibly changed in the future. He does wonder, though: if Anubis looked at his soul, what shade of grey – or black – would he see?
Jordan Natter → Jormungand
"You know, I've never been sure how I feel about a big fucking man-eating snake walking among us."
Write more in depth about their relationship here.
Sebastian Morales → Maximón
"...Whosit, now?"
Write more in depth about their relationship here.
Kora Black → Persephone
""
Write more in depth about their relationship here.
Regan Macguire → The Morrigan
"Good taste in drink. Why did you become a yankee, though? At least if you'd stayed nearby, you could have had a more regular, depressing drinking buddy."
Write more in depth about their relationship here.
Goddess of Protection, Relationships, the Performing Arts and Cats
Basic Profile
|Name|
Bastet
|Alias(es)|
Sable Almasi
|Gender|
Female
|Sexuality|
Pansexual
|Relationship Status|
Single*
|Pantheon/Faith|
Egyptian
|Occupation|
Sable is currently renovating her life and studying veterinary medicine for the third time in the last century or so. She works as an assistant in the vet's office in New Mexico. She never lets on that she knows more than the actual trained vet ever will and plays the role of the dutiful intern quite happily.
|Godly Appearance|
Reference. Bastet used to look a lot different, back when she wasn't trying to blend in with mortals and had all of her power at her disposal. The cat-headed goddess, Bastet had an undeniably feline form. Sharp fangs, a dusting of fur that covered some of her upper body and her back and wide, green cat's eyes. She wasn't much taller, perhaps only 6'2", but exuded a more intimidating aura mostly through her gold and black attire. She didn't wear armor and would have been considered more of a 'mage', with a staff.
|Earthly Appearance|
Sable is a figure who seems quite human, essentially, which is exactly what she wants. Standing at a respectable 5'8" (and she doesn't wear heels) with a slim, flat-chested build, she isn't exactly intimidating or godlike. She has soft features: warm brown eyes, dark wavy hair that is usually left down and rarely combed, and a permanently watery expression as if she's about to burst into tears at any given moment. Bastet is a more exotic beauty with dark skin and a charming smile that sometimes seems just a little too sharp to be mortal.
Even as a God, Bastet was never one to prance about naked like the goddesses of Greek mythology, but then again, Egypt was warm. As a result, Sable dresses quite conservatively with sweaters and jeans and skater dresses and often shorts. Shorts are an important part of her outfit, but when she wears them it's clear for anyone to see that she works as a vet and has cats of her own – her legs are covered in scratches.
Am I?
|Personality|
Sable's uncompromising, no-strings-attached kindness is probably the backbone of her character. Even as a deity she was considered 'good', a loving god who gave her subjects her all and was first in line to give up her powers so as to protect the world better. She can be overbearing in the sense that her good intentions often go awry. Some people aren't lonely, they're just introverted, and yet she'll force her friendship and constant presence on them because she wants everyone to feel loved.
It's probably because Sable just cannot handle loneliness or being alone herself, hence why she surrounds herself with cats and co-workers and occasionally significant others that only stay significant for a year or two until her fast-talking, insecure nature gets tiring. If she's left alone in an empty house, Sable might just cry. Again.
So, she's an overemotional goddess with too many cats and a big heart. That's not discussing how stubborn – no – immovable she becomes when she thinks she's in the right and doing what's best. Sable speaks before she thinks, makes decisions on the fly and regrets them later with a bottle of wine and Netflix. Still, Sable's a protective, supportive figure who is dedicated to her family and friends.
|Family|
Ra
Sekhmet
Starbuck – A cute, plump black cat with big green eyes that likes to bite and even now cannot understand that the food isn't all for her. She is eight years old. Sable doesn't play favourites, but Starbuck would be it, if only because she bit a home intruder as a kitten. Named for Lt. Starbuck in Battlestar Galactica.
Leia – A Calico kitty who is patient, silent, and a great hunter for catching the cockroaches in her dodgy apartment building. Adopted at the same time as Han Solo, but her actual age is unknown. Obviously named after Princess Leia.
Han Solo – He shot first! Han Solo is also a Calico, much larger than Sable's other cats and therefore a bit of a bruiser, two years old. Likes to meow at odd hours of the night to get her attention and occasionally drops dead mice on Sable's bed.
Mal – A six year old mixed-breed cat who is a real softie and likes to cuddle with Sable. This does not apply to other visitors, with whom he can (and probably will) be dismissive to. Family comes first. His aggression towards strangers definitely includes potential Tinder dates, as Sable has found out. Captain Malcolm Reynolds!
Mordin – A strange Siamese cat, five years old with an independent personality and a penchant for scratching up all the curtains and rolling on the floor in 'apology'. The best way Sable could describe him would be hyper-active. Named after Mordin Solus.
|Strengths|
Intelligent
Independent
Good Samaritan
Friendly
Creative
|Weaknesses|
Unambitious
"Curious"/Nosy
Stubborn
Naive
Over-Emotional
|Likes|
Cats
Social Media
Family Get-Togethers
The Internet
Romance
Music
Cat-Naps
|Dislikes
Loneliness
Long Nights
Cold Weather
Dogs (Allergic)
Darkness
|History|
Bastet was once one of the most favoured gods in all Egypt, and although her myth mixed and merged with those of the others, her festival each year attracted massive crowds from all over the ancient world. Women would dance and sing to honor her and children would play in the streets of Bubastis. Sacrifices would be made (it was a different time, okay?) and most of the city would become a drunken, joyful mess.
Good times, right? At least she wasn't fighting Apep at that time.
When the pact was made, Bastet was one of the driving forces behind it, using her cheer and optimism and desire to protect the world to try and convince even the most hard-headed of gods. She signed thoughtlessly, but it's one of the few decisions she's never regretted. As a mortal, Bastet mostly stayed in one place, waiting around for the fall of Egypt then travelling to the scattered Roman Empire, then to Gaul. When England was the centre of power on Earth she was in London as a nursemaid, and it is only recently that she's moved to give America a gander.
Her involvement in history hasn't been very interesting. She assisted nurses during the world wars, though she's no god of medicine, and may have tried to lengthen Marie Curie's life despite the radiation via the few protective charms she had stored away from her days as a deity. In the Middle Ages and before then, she acted as a 'good luck' charm, and married a few upstart kings because the gates of their castles would stand just a little longer with her around.
|Opinion on Mortals|
Bastet loved mortals when she was a god, a patron goddess of the home and family life and (sometimes) fertility. Sable, therefore, doesn't mind being a mortal either. She doesn't need to have ultimate power to be benevolent, after all, and has done well for herself so far. If she's being honest, most of her interest comes from going on many, many failed dates with normal, which she finds exciting – and a bit depressing. If they only knew she was a goddess...
|Theme Song|
Vulfpeck – Wait for the Moment
”I don't feel time when I sleep
So I snuggle up with my sheet
And wait, for a brighter day.”
vs. Immortal
|Mortal Skills/Abilities|
Bastet is a cat whisperer. No, really. She can't mind control the animals anymore to do her bidding but she can exert some influence over them just with the power of her silver tongue and a few treats. This could be extended to most animals which she gets along with (except dogs).
Sable doesn't have any combat abilities from the Middle Ages or earlier, if only because she much preferred to play the damsel in distress for knights in shining armor depressed over their lady loving some lord so-and-so. Obviously Sable has some knowledge of medicine – as it reflects on animals. Having embroiled herself in the modern age she is savvy to human culture at the moment and finds it easier than most to go unnoticed in a crowd.
As the goddess of music and dance as well as cats, Bastet is still "not bad" at holding a tune (but that is a massive understatement as the goddess typically tends to make. Most musical instruments come easily to her, though she missed the lyre massively.
|Immortal Skills/Abilities|
As the goddess of protection, first and foremost, Bastet could be considered something of a 'white mage'. She can bless others, increasing their endurance and strength, or – more importantly – she can put up shields around them. It's not limited to people either. Bastet will be able to make talismans to protect buildings or locations as she did in the past, even if she isn't present. If one needs a reference to the power of them, just look at the Pyramids: are they not still standing?
Secondly, Bastet's feral instincts will return. She's not just a cat person, she literally is part cat. It always was hard to hit her, because she was never where you'd think she would be. Nimble and observant, though obviously not the strongest, any foe who tries to go toe-to-toe with her will find such a feat more difficult than they imagined.
And then, finally, there's the slightly minor but no less important ability to exude a sense of serenity, calming violence where it can be calmed and mending relationships that were once broken. Family is important, and so is love – of all types. Those who thought Bastet was nice to be around before will have a whale of a time.
|Favourite Myth|
Þrymskviða – The one where Thor and Loki dress as a bride and bridesmaid to get Mjölnir back from a giant.
Norse God of Mischief and Trickery
Basic Profile
|Name|
Loki Laufeyjarson
|Alias(es)|
Lawrence Lafferty
xLoki420x
Loki Laufeyjarson
|Gender|
Male – but historically, it's complicated.
|Sexuality|
Bisexual
|Relationship Status|
Single
|Pantheon/Faith|
Norse
|Occupation|
Street Magician / Traveller
|Godly Appearance|
Simply put, it's complicated. As a shapeshifter, Loki could take a variety of forms: a salmon, a mare (hey, Sleipnir!), a fly... and, on several occasions, a woman. More than that, he maintained an unnatural form for most of the time instead of what he assumed to be his true appearance. The illusion would present as a man with long, black hair and pale skin and a charming grin that could woo any lady or man, mortal or otherwise, while in reality, Loki was a jötunn – blue-skinned and tall with skin made of stone.
For the longest time, his armor was glittering gold like the other gods; however, this set of plate was lost when he was bound by his pantheon and is probably still covered in the entrails of the child whose name mythology hasn't remembered, no doubt thanks to Odin. Before the gods gave up their powers, Loki was seen to have his lips sewn shut so his silver-tongue couldn't be used against them. His tongue was literally silver. Around him, a faint shimmer could be seen like a haze of heat on a hot day, and when one touched him, his skin was chilled and icy.
|Earthly Appearance|
The form that Loki takes on now is one that mortals might expect of the god Thor rather than the trickster. Loki is fair-haired with tan skin, often seen with stubble or even the beginnings of a beard that disguise his baby-face and how young he actually looks. His appearance is ambiguous, and could be that of a man anywhere between twenty-five and his late thirties, depending on the lighting. Some things about Loki are constant, and even if he can't officially shapeshift anymore, that includes his flighty, wishy-washy and ever-mysterious form.
He dresses like a twenty year old. T-shirts and jeans and occasionally cargo pants. Converse. Warm hats when his hair gets long and he can't be bothered cutting it – which is more often than it appears. A faint air of smoke lingers around him too from the twenty plus cigarettes he smokes a day. Thank the gods that immortals can't get lung cancer, eh? While he's still runs two degrees below normal body temperature and would probably horrify most doctors with the scars he's carried over into his human form, he almost looks... normal. But of course, normal people in bright, revealing lighting don't tend to have marks showing that their lips had once been sewn shut.
Finally, Loki's most easily recognisable characteristic is his crooked smile or grin. Some would say that it never fades, which isn't quite true. He's seen often with one other expression, and that is one of abject, gormless confusion.
Am I?
|Personality|
It's a good thing Loki doesn't hold grudges, otherwise he'd have one against all of his fellow gods and would have hunted them down – he has more than enough reason to. Permanently doused in a facade of optimism to the point where it's literally been his defining character trait, he laughs easily and loudly and tries to make others do so too. His jokes on humans, however, are more than a little mean-spirited and vindictive, which makes him laugh all the more. Taking pleasure from other people's pain is what he's best at, it being his version of "always look on the bright side" – life might be bad, but at least you're not the victim.
Even when Loki gets his comeuppance, when someone else gets revenge on him, he's usually laughing. Come to think of it, the only time he didn't was when he was bound up to await Ragnarok, but that was more to do with the cruelty of the other Gods outweighing anything he could have thought up. After that point, Loki probably became a tad more... callous, even though he remained the same fast-talking, loud storyteller that he always was. Living in the human world for so long probably hasn't helped.
Loyalty is an interesting concept for Loki. He's loyal to his children, all of whom happen to be monsters, and probably to the world, because he doesn't want them to die. But although he's switched sides again and again in mythology, he can't claim fealty to either the jötunn or the Norse Gods.
|Family|
Jormungand
Hel
Sleipnir
Fenrir
|Strengths|
Persuasive
Entertainer
Strong-Willed
Optimistic
Excellent Liar
|Weaknesses|
Grief-Stricken
Masochistic
Callous and Unsympathetic
Impulsive
Over-Complicates Things
|Likes|
Jokes and pranks, especially the mean-spirited sort;
Pestering the Norse Pantheon;
Daredevil feats such as bungee jumping and paragliding;
Painful experiences like going to the dentist or fixing dislocated limbs;
Dank memes... Trolling people on the Internet;
His children.
|Dislikes
People who ruin the punchlines to jokes;
Food that isn't European in origin;
His kids getting murdered in front of his very eyes and being bound up in their entrails;
Kids these days;
Being stuck in one place.
|History|
Hahaha, remember the time when Loki helped get his brother Mjölnir back by dressing them both up as women? Oh, and who could ever forget the whole, turned into a mare and gave birth to Sleipnir debacle? Or what about when his children were confined to different domains, thrown into the Underworld and the sea and bound up? At least Fenrir took Tyr's hand, right? But that's not all: there was also the occasion where the Æsir murdered Narfi and bound Loki up in his son's entrails.
What a laugh, right?
Anyhow, that's all water under the bridge. Loki did, after all, become mortal with the other gods and has since lived a rather fulfilling life. Several of them, in fact, because he's faked his death more times than he can count. In the olden days, he was a court magician, and sometimes a jester – always so successful. He masqueraded as a monk and worked on the Lindisfarne Gospels, which would horrify most historians because he was so inconsistent in doing so. With the invention of gunpowder, things became a little less fun, because there was always the risk of someone shooting him in the head which, by the way, is a bitch to heal from.
At least twelve of the bestselling joke books sold in novelty and souvenir shops are his doing. That's about it, really. He travels, he causes mayhem and mischief as well as he can in human form, then he leaves again. Every so often, he hunts down his kids to surprise them with a visit, though he never forgets to send a Christmas card.
|Opinion on Mortals|
He loves them! Ha. No, he doesn't. Loki thinks they're easily fooled and tricked by even the simplest of illusions, ones he can do with his eyes closed and his hands tied behind his back. While that can be fun at times – almost as much as teaching a dog how to sit and then watching it perform the trick over and over and over again – he much prefers his own kind.
|Theme Song|
All Along The Watchtower – Jimi Hendrix
”'There must be some kind of way out of here,'
Said the joker to the thief,
'There's too much confusion, I can't get no relief.'”
vs. Immortal
|Mortal Skills/Abilities|
Loki doesn't need illusions to do tricks – he has an incredible aptitude for sleight of hand, quick reflexes and a mind for angles of observation and ways to shroud things in mystery. Furthermore, he's a pickpocket and a thief with deft fingers and a gentle touch. It's doubtful people even realise their pockets have been picked clean and perused to his enjoyment until well after the fact.
He's not the most intelligent, world wise, nor does he care about current events; however, he is rather cunning and knows his way around people. One could say he's fooled himself into leadership positions more than a few times, though it never lasts.
Finally, Loki has a knack for animals, which may be because his kids were sort-of-technically-maybe-not monsters. He particularly likes snakes, and dogs, and horses.
|Immortal Skills/Abilities|
Shapeshifting is the big one. Loki's been trapped for so long in one body that he's beginning to feel a little unsettled. While he's attached to his appearance, he misses being able to turn into other creatures, or attract people who wouldn't otherwise be interested in his usual form. It'll slowly come back, first with the ability to change his features, then his species, but he's nothing if not determined to return to his usual strength. Maybe he'll try out a dragon form?
The second ability Loki is looking forward to most is proper illusions, the type that can fool gods and men alike. Oh, you thought he was there? Nope, he's over there. It's what he has in place of combat abilities, because even if his sword is imaginary, it still hurts when it stabs one through the chest. Basically, it's indistinguishable from what mortals consider to be 'magic', but it's just trickery.
Finally, a seldom-used power is frost manipulation. As a jötunn he has the ability to create ice – glacial ice – at his fingertips. He prefers to be thought of as a god rather than a monster, and so rarely (if ever) uses it. The last time he did was when Odin informed him of Fenrir's punishment...
|
3,168
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Location: Their penthouse > Asgard
Interacting with: Each other
It was a lazy night, for once.
For the first time in who knows how long, both Ellen and June were lounging in their penthouse with absolutely no plans to go out. The two ladies were both busy people; Ellen with her late-night socializing, and June with her little “Midnight Avenger” thing. Despite the two goddesses being roommates, their quality hang-out time was at an all time low so it was nice to be able to simply relax and enjoy each other’s company with no third or fourth party.
June was holding a wine glass in her hand, swishing the red wine inside. She was going to need that wine to get through the night. Somehow--she wasn’t completely sure how--Ellen had managed to convince June to sit through a “much needed makeover.” Whatever that meant. Unlike her closest friend, people didn’t pay much attention to June and that was how she liked it. She didn’t need to be pretty, she needed to be forgettable.
Despite her initial grumblings and baleful glares, June eventually gave in. Ellen was accustomed to things going her way, and would not take no for an answer. Humoring her would be a lot easier at this point.
“So, how did it go with that football guy you were seeing? Did you dump him yet?” June inquired for the sake of making small talk. She was well-aware of the love goddess’ favorite pastime of breaking people’s hearts. Some things just never changed.
“Oh yeah, doll. He’s been gone for awhile, heard he hasn’t left his house since the break up.” Ellen let out a witch-like laugh, though her eyes remained steadfast and serious as she gently worked on June’s right eyebrow. Pluck and swipe, pluck and swipe, she repeated these motions until she was satisfied with the brow’s shape, and then she scooted over slightly to work with the left. “To be honest, he was kind of a dick. He always told me about how he hit his last girlfriend, so I think justice was served, right.” Ellen sat back, sticking her tongue out at her roommate before moving back to her makeup bag.
“Now, thick brows or thin?”
June tipped her wineglass towards Ellen in approval when she mentioned justice. “Ya did good Ellen. I approve.” Her roommate knew about June’s quest for justice of course--she was her backup alibi if she ever needed one. June thought that there wasn’t enough justice in the world, so Ellen’s little story satisfied her greatly.
“Let’s go with thick eyebrows. Really bushy… You know what? What about a unibrow.”
“Haha, you’re really adorable ya know? I’ll make them thin then.” Ellen leaned in again after taking a quick sip of her wine, and she began to draw in June’s eyebrows with a dark pencil. Her dark eyes scanned her friend’s face carefully, a soft smile clear on her own doll-like face, “this is gonna look so good, ya know? We should hit the town once I’m done, show off your pretty face.” Sitting back, Ellen assessed her work, and with a satisfied shrug she reached into her bag and pulled out a small, felt-tipped eyeliner. She tapped at the skin by her eye, winking to show JUne what to do, and once her friend’s eyes were closed she leaned in and got to work.
“So then, how’s the whole Robin Hood-ing thing going? Find any good loot lately?”
“Oh, actually there’s something I’ve been meaning to give to you.” June fished through her pockets with her eyes closed. She pulled out a small box and opened it. There was a large diamond ring nestled within it, and it was almost as if June was proposing to Ellen.
“Ellen Dove, will you…” June paused for dramatic effect. “Take this ring as next month’s rent?”
Ellen appreciated the diamond for a minute, hand hovering over the box hungrily, and then with sudden speed she snatched it up and shoved it into her sweatshirt pocket.
“I will indeed, my love. Now, don’t move, I might poke your eye out.” She chewed on the inside of her cheek as she drew a long, confident line across June’s eyelid, and after assessing it once she filled it in and got to work on the other. Taking another swig of wine, Ellen eventually sat back and glanced from eye-to-eye, licking her lips slightly, “what color eyeshadow do you want, Junebug? I’ve got a lot of shit here…” She pulled out a rather large palette, holding it forward for her friend to see,
“I personally think a nice blue would make your lovely eyes pop out, but feel free to choose.”
“I want blood red.” June replied without hesitation. However, after a slight pause she tacked on, “well, let’s just go with whatever you think is best beauty queen. I don’t really--”
Suddenly, there was an imbalance. June of course, was accustomed to imbalance, but the sudden chill hit her fairly hard and she instinctively straightened her back. A sense of foreboding and death hit her like a sledgehammer. “E-Ellen, did you feel that?”
As June turned to look toward her friend, she immediately rubbed her eyes in shock. As the former goddess of revenge and balance, she had retained more of her skills than most other gods. She was able to hold onto her sense of imbalance within a person but it had been more of an innate gut feeling. When someone was too lucky, she could just tell. If someone was lying, their moral imbalance was obvious enough that she would be able to see right through it. But now, staring at Ellen, June saw the scale clearly for the first time since she had become a mortal. (Aphrodite had too much good luck right now, uh-oh.) Also, June noticed something else about Ellen.
“Holy crap you suddenly became like twenty times hotter than before.”
“Something happened, something big.” June muttered, trying to pinpoint the cause. A large, obvious imbalance happened somewhere in the world, to someone important. But who? June squeezed her eyes shut, concentrating on the bigger scales all over the world. No, it wasn’t the president, no it wasn’t Zeus--she would’ve felt it a lot more intensely because he was in her pantheon… June’s eyes flew open in shock.
“Odin…”
“Odin?” Ellen stared down at June’s hand, eyebrows hitched as a familiar red strand seemed to slowly come into existence. Now, it had been awhile since she saw the string of Fate on someone, and watching the translucent thread vanish off out the window to wherever June’s soulmate was was both a frightening experience, and a nostalgic one. She wasn’t as sure as her roommate, but Ellen knew as well that something was amiss. Her heart pounded like mad, and sweat had begun to form on the back of her neck. This kind of feeling was new and unwelcome, and Ellen clutched her chest thoughtlessly, staring into June’s eyes with a confused and nervous look. Was Odin…
“What’s happened, that’s not normal, is it?” Ellen ran a shaky hand through her hair, turning to stare at her reflection in the TV. Yes, something was very, very wrong. “Is Odin… What’s happened, June, do you know?”
June closed her eyes in concentration. It had been a few years since she had been able to see the scales so clearly, and it was giving her a slight headache. Fortunately, the biggest imbalance was centered around Odin. It was a feeling she knew well; one of the biggest injustices in the world.
“He's dead.” June said tightly, “We need to go Aphrodite, we need to go now.” Subconsciously June--or rather, Nemesis--was already shifting into her Goddess role. Oh boy, the other intel gods were going to kill her for not being with them right now.
“Dead? Like, dead-dead? How?” Ellen stood up quickly, wrapping herself up in her arms as a way to calm him trembling body, “that can’t be right, can we die? Well, I guess we can, we are ‘mortals’ kinda, right, no…” She paced, moving back and forth between the couch and June, and then she reached out onto the coffee table and grabbed her jacket, pulling it on over her rather drab lounging wear. Ellen let her eyes settle on June again, lips pursing nervously.
“Lead the way, hun.”
Their normal door was transformed into a more intricate one. There was only one person who could be behind that--which meant everyone else in charge of overseeing all the gods were already there. “I am so dead…” June muttered to herself, as she took a deep breath. She grabbed Ellen’s hand before they stepped through the door.
June stood there for a moment, observing everyone that was already there. Once she had properly braced herself, she gave Ellen’s hand one last squeeze before letting go and heading to take her place among Tyr and Athena.
“All of you who want to leave don't understand the gravity of this situation,” June snapped impatiently. “If we don't take the time to properly investigate, all of our lives are in danger--including your loved ones. But if it's really that important for you to go back and spend time with your family or whatever, be my guest. However, I will say 'I told you so' when they all die a tragic, horrible death. But it's your life. I can't tell you what to do. You guys know where the door is if you want to leave.”
"I don't really care. In fact, leave. It'll make my job easier. But I do hope that you're all ready to see everyone be brutally massacred."
Ellen watched June rush off to the other intel Gods, feeling slightly abandoned, and with a quick glance at the other deities in their seats she lifted her head and stepped towards an empty seat. Once settled, her eyes and ears observed an onslaught of fearful gasps and accusations, though only one made her heart freeze with fear. Someone had killed Odin, slayed him down. Who? Ellen bit the inside of her cheek, leaning forward but staying silent as she really didn’t have much to say about the issues at hand. A Love Goddess wouldn’t be the most helpful in a situation like this, after all.
|
Water Goddess of Fortune, Fine Arts and Learning
Basic Profile
|Name|
Benzaiten
|Alias(es)|
Her name was often shortened to Benten back in her godly years.
In Hinduism--where she originated from--she was known as Sarasvatī.
Amane Mikami--pronounced AH-mah-nay ME-kah-me
|Gender|
Female
|Sexuality|
Pansexual
|Pantheon/Faith|
Shinto and Buddhism. Originated from Hinduism
|Occupation|
A music teacher
Appearance
|Godly Appearance|
Benzaiten has been known to take many different forms. Her humanoid form is very similar to her current mortal one--a dark-haired beauty with two arms, often holding a musical instrument, usually a biwa. At times she can be of a monstrous size with 8 arms, each hand holding a different weapon. She's also been seen as a large three-headed snake.
In her humanoid form, she's usually clothed in an intricate kimono with a floating scarf hovering around her. There's always a jewel adorning her robes that can grants wishes. Her humanoid form is the reflection of traditional Japanese beauty; pale white skin, deep brown eyes and extremely long jet black hair.
She's closely associated to dragons and snakes due to her ability to embody a three headed snake. However, she's also accompanied by turtles, dragons and white foxes as well.
|Earthly Appearance|
Benzaiten's earthly appearance is of a pretty, young Japanese lady. She has experimented with multiple haircuts over the years before settling with her long hair that she has today. Rather than the jet-black hair she sported in her humanoid goddess appearance, Benzaiten opted for a dark brown color. She's happy with her hair at the moment, but she's still considering another chop. She has round brown eyes with warmth residing within them. She stands at a height of 5'4, and her physique is a rather average build.
Even though she still enjoys the occasional traditional clothing, she's finding a lot more freedom and joy in finding more casual clothes to wear. Kimonos are great and pretty and make her feel powerful and all, but shorts man. They're so much more practical. Benzaiten enjoys dressing up in standard clothing now, owning a vast wardrobe to accommodate all of her clothing needs and desires.
Who Am I?
|Personality|
Benzaiten embodies the virtue of amiability, so it only makes sense that it's part of who she is. Benzaiten is someone who exudes friendliness. There's always a warm smile upon her face, and she's the first person to go up and introduce herself to a complete stranger. She's gentle and kind to anyone she meets. True to her Japanese values, she's extremely humble and polite. Benzaiten is optimistic in any situation. She firmly believes that there's a silver lining in every cloud.
Due to being a goddess of learning, Benzaiten is very knowledgeable about many subjects. She teaches music, but her intellect spans many subjects and topics. She loves to learn about everything, and it gives her a lot of joy to see other people learning--it's why she's a teacher. Her other passion lies in the fine arts, another field that she was in charge of as a goddess. Music, poetry and art... They're all activities that she loves to engage in. In her spare time, she's often found reading, playing music, writing poetry, or sketching.
However, no person is perfect; even for a goddess such as herself. Benzaiten was one of the most famous, revered and popular goddesses in Japan. As a result, she's extremely prideful. Despite humbling herself in front of others, Benzaiten is extremely prideful and holds what she does in high regard. She doesn't take very well to being told what she's doing is wrong, and doesn't like reaching out for help. She does hide this extremely well though. Most people probably won't pick up on it because of her constant humbling. Inwardly, she's grinding her teeth and seething with words that she doesn't say out loud.
|Family|
Daichi Mikami - Benzaiten's younger brother. He's also a god that gave up his powers. Formerly, he was the Japanese God of the Underworld, known as Enma Daiō. Currently, he's enjoying the mortal life and exploring all of the guilty pleasures such as gambling, flirting, partying, etc. Fortunately, Amane has been keeping a keen eye on him, reminding him to not damn himself into hell. That would be awkward, indeed.
|Strengths|
Kind
Smart and knowledgeable
Confident
A natural mediator
Talented in the fine arts
|Weaknesses|
Prideful
Stubborn
Doesn't ask for help
Extremely high expectations for herself and everyone
Slightly arrogant
|Likes|
Music
Art
Poetry
Swimming
Traditional tea sweets
Rain
Green tea
Teaching
|Dislikes
Droughts
Her brother getting himself into trouble
Nuts
Rap music
Overly sweet foods
|History|
Back in her immortal days, Benzaiten was known for being in charge of a lot of fields. She was the patroness of the arts, the river and water goddess, one of the 7 gods for good fortune and luck, and also a Goddess of Agriculture. Using her water, Benzaiten would often prevent droughts by bestowing rain to crops, guaranteeing a bountiful harvest. She was the muse for music, poetry and artwork, she has been the subject of many famous works of fine art.
Benzaiten had a lot of work, but she was happy. She was glad to provide service and blessings upon her worshipers. For centuries, Benzaiten was a benevolent protector of the Japanese. She was confident that this system would continue on into the future.
But it didn't.
When the gods agreed to give up their powers and godly status, Benzaiten was torn. She didn't want to bring further harm onto the human race, but being a goddess was also how she served and protected everyone. What would happen if she was gone? Eventually, Benzaiten came to the agreement to give up her powers. She really did want the best for everyone, after all.
After she became a human, Benzaiten found more time to pursue her personal passions and explore her hobbies. She went through a few jobs, including a musician, a poet, an artist, a landlady, a cashier, a bookstore employee... Basically she tried her hand at a lot of things before finally discovering that she wanted to be a teacher. Of course, she couldn't just magic herself a degree and license, so she went to college and everything--which was a very strange experience. She finally settled on her job as a music teacher.
Besides that, throughout the course of history Benzaiten was content to lay low. For the most part, she followed trends for women during that time period, never doing anything particularly notable or revolutionary.
In terms of her personal life, Benzaiten has made a lot of new friends as her persona of Amane. She's engaged in some romances, but none of them have stuck. Mostly, she just makes sure that her brother doesn't do anything too crazy as she socializes and works. She's living a pretty normal life for a human, surprisingly.
|Opinion on Mortals|
Benzaiten has always been fond of mortals. Not only did they honor, respect and love her in many ways, she finds them fascinating. Despite being a wise goddess of learning, Benzaiten found that they were not only learning from her. She was learning from them as well. She would often be surprised by them.
|Theme Song|
Song – Artist
”A few lyrics here, please.”
Mortal vs. Immortal
|Mortal Skills/Abilities|
A lot of Benzaiten's immortal skills carried over in some way as a mortal. Representing the virtue of amiability, Benzaiten's friendliness is a bit more potent than a normal human's. There's just something about her charm and friendly nature that will gather people towards her and grab their attention that is bit unnatural.
While she's definitely not omniscient in any way, Benzaiten has the ability to hold vast quantities of information in her brain. She's also very quick at learning something.
Being one of the 7 fortune gods, Benzaiten is incredibly lucky. She's been blessed with a lot of luck in her life, and through the use of omajinai or good luck charms, she's able to bestow luck onto others in very very very limited quantities. Then again, it might be placebo. Who knows if it actually works? But if Benzaiten tells you to throw sand at your feet or something, try doing as she says. What have you got to lose? You just might get lucky.
Finally, her musical, artistic and poetic ways are also enhanced by her status as a former god. When she plays music, people listening to it are drawn in and entranced by it. Her artwork seems to beckon towards people and her poetry makes people feel things. She can captivate people with her skills, and pull them in emotionally.
|Immortal Skills/Abilities|
As the Japanese goddess of water and rivers, Benzaiten will be able to regain her ability of water manipulation. Also relating to that, she will be able to use a limited variation on storm manipulation although it's limited to rain only. Due to her heavy association with water, Benzaiten will be able to summon sea creatures and understand their thoughts in an almost telepathic way.
She also has a jewel that grants wishes. It doesn't work anymore, but Benzaiten has kept it safely tucked away. When she regains her powers, the jewel will as well, little by little. At first it'll only be able to grant extremely insignificant wishes, such as "I hope it rains tomorrow" or "I wish I had a lemon slice with my tea". Even then, both Benzaiten and the jewel are very particular about the wishes it grants; even as they both gain power, they are unlikely to grant just any wish.
Benzaiten's luck bestowal will be more concrete and clear as well. She'll be able to bestow luck upon people to make them a little bit luckier. She's very selective and picky about this though, so it doesn't happen very often.
|Favorite Myths|
Percy Jackson and the Olympians
Calypso and Odysseus
Narcissus and Echo
King Midas
Pandora's Box
幸福、水、富、親しみ、音楽、美術と詩の女神様
プロフィール
|名前|
弁才天、あるいは弁財天
|他の名前|
彼女は女神だった時代に弁天とも呼ばれていた。
水神天音
|性別|
女
|セクシュアリティ|
パンセクシャル
|宗教|
神道、仏教
|職業|
音楽の先生
見た目
|神の姿|
弁才天はいろいろな姿がある。
人間型の姿は黒髪の美しい女性でよく手に琵琶を持ってる。たまにはもっと神様らしい巨大な姿を現し、八つの腕にはそれぞれ違う武器を持つときもある。ほかには頭が三つある大蛇にも変身することもある。
彼女は大蛇の姿のおかげでよく蛇や龍と連想される。しかしそれらだけではなく、亀と白い狐と一緒によくいる。
|人の姿|
弁才天の人の姿はかわいい、若い日本人の女性。人間の人生を歩み始めたときから嬉しそうに髪型をいっぱい変えた結果、今の長い髪の毛になった。女神の姿のときは日本の美しい黒髪だったが、今は濃い茶色の髪の毛。今の髪の毛に満足しているが、また切ろうかな？と考えているらしい。彼女の眼は真ん丸で優しい茶色。162cmで、体型は割と普通。
着物などを着ているけど、もっとカジュアルな服を最近好んでる。着物はきれいで好きだけど、半ズボンの方がとにかく楽！弁才天はふつうの洋服を着るのが大好きで、クローゼットにもいっぱい色んな服を揃えている。
|性格|
親しみの女神でもあるから、弁才天はとても親しみやすい人です。とてもフレンドリーで、いつも笑顔でいる。誰かが一人でいると弁才天はその人に話しかけるタイプの人である。誰にでも優しくて、どんなときにも明るい。どんな暗闇の中にも光はどこかにあると信じている。日本人の文化にしたがって、彼女はとても謙虚でもある。
学習の女神なので、弁才天は雑学や知識が幅広い。音楽の先生だが、知識は音楽だけではなく、いろんなことを頭に入れている。学ぶことが大好きで、他の人が何かを習得するのを見るのが大好き。だから先生になった。音楽、詩、美術の女神だったのでそれも今は趣味になった。
完璧な人は存在しない。それは女神である弁才天でも違わない。彼女は日本の中でも有名で人気を集めていた。そのせいで弁才天はとてもプライドが高い人になった。人の周りではとても謙虚なのに、実はプライドをなかなか手放せない。他の人にダメ出しとか言われるのは嫌いで、助けを求めるのがとても苦手。しかし謙虚さがあるので他の人からプライドの高さは察知されていません。
|家族|
水神大地 - 弁才天の弟。彼は閻魔大王、地獄の神様だった。今は人間の生活を楽しんでおり、ギャンブル、お酒、パーティーなどを行っている。天音はちゃんと大地のことを見守って
注意している。閻魔大王が地獄に行ったら冗談にならない。
|特徴|
優しい
頭が良くて、いろんなことを知っている
自信がある
ムードメーカー
美術、音楽と詩が得意
|弱さ|
プライドが高い
頑固
助けを求めない
自分と周りの人に期待しすぎている
割と誇り高い
|好きなもの|
音楽
美術
詩
水泳
お茶菓子
雨
緑茶
先生になること
|苦手なもの
干ばつ
弟がトラブルに巻き込まれること
ナッツ
ラップ
必要以上に甘い食べ物
|由来|
女神だった時代には、色んなものを任されていた。弁才天は美術、音楽、詩の神で七福神の一人でもあり、農業の神でもあった。お水を使い、畑に雨をかけて収穫を増やしていてた。
弁才天は神様としていろんな仕事があり、とても忙しかった。しかし、その仕事が大好きで毎日が楽しくて満足していた。何百年も日本人の守り主であり、これからも末永くそれが続くと信じていた。
しかし、その願いは実らなかった。
神たちが神をやめようといわれたときには弁才天は本当に悩んだ。これ以上破壊を呼びたくない。でも女神として人間を守るために毎日努力していた。その努力が無くなったらどうなるのだろう？いっぱい悩んだ後、弁才天はやっと神を引退した。彼女を心の底から人間たちの繁栄を願っていたから。
人間になってから弁才天は自分の趣味を見つけ出す時間を手に入れた。何回も転職し、とにかく色んなものを試した。だんだんに先生になりたい、いろんな人と知識を共有したいという思いを胸に持ち、大学に入学した。今は音楽の先生をし、満足している。
何百年も生きている弁才天は得に歴史に残るようなことをしていない。その時代に女性はなにをしていたのに従い、ふつうの生活を何回も送っていた。
弁才天は天音としていろんな友達が出来ている。何人かと付き合ったりもしたが、得に長続きしなかった。大体は弟の世話をしながら仕事もし、友達と遊んだりもしている。以外にほんとにどこにでもあるようなごく普通の生活を送っている。
|人間の感想|
弁才天は昔から人間たちを気に入っていた。人間たちはもちろん、弁才天が大好きでしたが理由はそれだけではない。人間は面白い！学習の神なのに、人間たちを教えていただけではないのだ。彼女も人間からいろいろ学んでいた。人間たちの行動によくびっくりしていたことも確かだ。
|テーマソング|
曲名 － 歌手
「ここに歌詞を入れる」
人間対神
|人間としてのスキル|
弁才天の神技は割とすんなりに人間の天音に移っていた。親しみの神だからその親しみが人間としても身について、普通の人よりも人気を集めている。彼女の魅力は誰にでも伝わって、普通の人間とは思えない程愛される。
全知全能まではいかないが、弁才天は様々な知識を頭に入れられる。覚えもとても早い。
七福神の一人でもあるから弁才天はとても運がよい。おまじないを通じて他の人にも良い運を送ることができる。本当に効くのだろうか？もしかしてプラシーボかも。でもいいじゃん！弁才天に「足に砂を投げるといいことがあるよ」と言われたらやってみれば？悪いことは起こらないし、もしかしたらラッキーになるかも。
最後に、彼女の詩、音楽と美術は神様のスキルがちょっと入っている。音楽を演奏するとそれを聞く人たちの心を掴むことが出きる。詩も美術も同様に人々の心に囁くことができる。
|神としてのスキル|
日本の川と水の神であるから、弁才天は水を操ることができるようになる。それに似て、少しだけ天気も操ることが出来る。雨だけだが。水の生き物と心を通じ合う事もできる。
弁才天は願いを叶える宝石を持っている。今は使えないけれど、弁才天は大切にしまっている。彼女がどんどん強くなっていくと、宝石も強くなる。最初は本当に小さな願いしか叶えることしかできない。例えば「明日天気になーれ」や「紅茶にレモン一切れがほしいなー」など。弁才天と宝石はなんでも願いを叶えるわけではないので、なかなか願いを叶えない。
弁才天の運の良さは上がる。他の人にも運もちゃんとおまじないだけじゃない方法で分けることもできるようになる。また、誰にでも運を分けるわけではない。
J A N U S
J A M E S A L F E R O
"His Japanese could use a little work, but otherwise he's absolutely lovely."
R Y U J I N
U M I K O R Y U D O
"She's one of the few people I've kept in touch with from our pantheon ever since we relinquished our godhood."
A P H R O D I T E
E L L E N D O V E
"I was considered a goddess of beauty back in Japan, but... wow."
H A D E S
H A D R I A N P R Y D E
"He comes around often to visit my brother--but he's usually gone. So we ended up becoming friends as well."
B A S T E T
S A B L E A L M A S I
" "
H U I T Z I L O P O C H T L I
H E W I T T D A N F O R D
" "
A N U B I S
A N D R E W J A C K L E Y
" "
J O R M U N G A N D
J O R D A N N A T T E R
" "
M A X I M O N
S A N S I M O N
" "
P E R S E P H O N E
K O R A B L A C K
" "
N E M E S I S
J U N E F A L L O N
" "
T H E M O R R I G A N
R E G A N M A C G U I R E
" "
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Location: Regan Macguire’s Apartment; Aurora, Colorado
Interactions: Booze and mention of Aphrodite
A single, diamond bead trickles down the side of the squat bottle, slipping onto the expensive white nightstand. The single drop calls her name, echoing inside her hammer-struck brow as she ripples beneath silver cotton sheets, her crystalline eyes remaining hidden from the world. Ivory flesh peeks from beneath the silver swaddle, weaving itself with the fabric as a low murmur reverberates in the apartment swathed in white. Her hand, blind and giddy, sweeps across the nightstand until a thin finger brushes against the damp glass and then the whole appendage strangles the neck of the bottle, dragging it to greedy lips. The sweet burning of alcohol slithers down her throat, numbing the constriction in her heart.
Regan pushes herself up with lightly toned muscles, her blonde mess of curls rubbing against the headboard of her California King. The bottle shakes in her sleepy hands before it’s relinquished to the mercy of the floor, shattering into black, dry pieces. Absent-mindedly, Regan runs her hand over the Egyptian cotton next to her, smoothing over the rumpled sheets and flat bed. Drunkenly, she smiles.
“He’s gone.” She smirks, a queer quirk of her twisted lips, her mind feeling pleasantly hazy when she attempts to think of her bedmate last night. Almost immediately, her grin is replaced with a frown, slender lines creasing her forehead in worry. “He didn’t steal from me, did’e?”
Regan hums, slipping off the bed, careful to step over the glass mess she has created, and wanders into the kitchen. A large white shirt billows over her form, though it doesn’t cover the black exposed underwear gracing Regan’s hips. Stumbling, Regan trips to the fridge and opens it to stare into the depths of the empty beast, groaning in despair when nothing edible is found. Sighing in disappointment, Regan crosses the room, ruffling around the sheets until a slim but expansive smartphone falls from the folds, flopping onto the timber floors. Nearly falling over herself, Regan slaps her hand across the new age technology and steals it from the floor.
“Pizza…Chinese…Mmm, Taco Bell sounds amazing.” Regan closes her eyes in thought, leaning against her bed until a startling realization hits her, “But they don’t deliver. Damnit.”
Knowing that her chosen food was not at hand, and driving was out of the question at the moment (not that she cared about human well-being, she just didn’t want to get arrested), Regan began to shuffle through her Candy Cabinet(TM). Whiskey bottles clanked together along with the few rare beers and a large wine in the small mini-fridge, hidden discreetly in her kitchen (under the sink cabinet). Her phone was still clutched in her hand, smooth and warm from the bed sheets. Regan pauses in her search, not able to find her favorite, and glances at her phone in the hopes that a solution to her hungry, thirsty problem will appear. Perhaps the gods (ha) heard her plea, for in that instant, her cell began to ring – since when was her ringtone Justin Bieber’s “Baby” – and a familiar name flashed across the screen. Regan clicked the answer button and held the phone to her ear, thoughts of bribing her sort-of-friend for Taco Bell.
“Howdy, partner?” The blonde beams into the phone.
“Macguire.” The other voice came out more somber and serious and Regan immediately winced in annoyance. “You missed you’re appointment today.”
Her peach digit traced a magnet on her fridge, pushing around the large Texas magnet. Blue eyes stared at it, turning it around in circles and ramming it against Florida. Jenkins’ irritated tone caused Regan to smirk rather than smile. “You’re gonna have to be more specific, Jenkins, I have lots of appointments nowadays. Refrain from prostitution jokes, please.”
Despite her playfulness, Jenkins, Regan’s coworker, refused to relent. “This is serious, Regan – the General’s not happy with you.”
Regan frowned, wrinkling her nose, “He’ll get over it.”
“I know that Afghan is hard, Regan, but you have to go if you want to get better.”
“I don’t need a shrink, Johnny.”
“This behavior is inappropriate. You could get kicked out of the military – ”
“So what – ”
“Who’ll pay for you – ”
“I don’t want to talk about it – ”
“You hit someone –”
“Stop.”
“What if you kill someone next time –”
Sausage-like thumbs pressed into brown orbs, pressing and pressing, until streams of thick coppery blood spilled from the caved frontal skull, staining his dirt-covered wrists.
“Jesus Christ, John!” Regan slammed her forehead against the wall, ignoring the immediate pain that throbbed. She slammed her head once more against it, bidding the thoughts to leave her mind – disturbing thoughts that she had tried to get rid of for years, centuries. Only one thing did the trick. Regan blindly moved until she felt the tell-tale Candy Cabinet(TM) knob with a collection of cork stoppers hanging from it on several strings. Finally opening her eyes, she picked the biggest bottle she could find and pried it open with her teeth, the bottle jerking and wine sloshing from the top slightly.
“Macguire, stop –” Regan pressed the red button on the screen, throwing the phone somewhere in the distance and slapped the bottle into her mouth, chugging the wine.
She didn’t stop until she felt an overwhelming buzzing taking over her mind, numbing her ears and mouth and tongue and eyes and heart and gut. Then she threw the bottle in the sink, tripping her way to the bathroom in order to get in the shower and sober herself up so she could get drunk once more.
Her hand sloppily fondled the door knob, trying to turn it but unable to focus as much to do so. Finally, the door pried open after her drunken machinations, and she stumbled inwards, her eyes closing when blinding whiteness penetrated her eyes. Blinking several times, Regan managed to open her eyes wide enough to the disgusting splendor of Asgard. Frowning in delayed confusion, the Morrígan staggered down the hall and into the congregation of assholes deities. She squinted, her mind still not able to keep up, but smiled to pretend that she understood anyways, and she crumbled into a seat – next to Aphrodite, maybe (her sight has been compromised by the booze). The Morrígan didn’t understand a lot of what was going on, but the sight of Odin managed to hint at a lurking danger that sent chills down the drunken war goddess’s back.
|
☼☼☼
☼☼☼
☼☼☼
|Name|
The Morrígan
|Aliases|
Regan Macguire
Phantom Queen
Great Queen
|Gender|
Female
|Sexuality|
Bisexual - prefers women
|Relationship Status|
Single
|Pantheon|
Celtic
|Occupation|
Military. She works in the Air Force as a Colonel.
☼☼☼
☼☼☼
|Godly Appearance|
Somehow, through time, the Morrígan’s appearance has been convoluted in legends as that of an old hag. Conversely, when the Morrígan was in the prime of her worship, she was noted for her beauty and luminescence. Her curly locks were as black as the darkest time of night with stark pink-white belladonna intertwined with strands. The ebony tresses swing around her breasts, seemingly silky and thick. She possesses no bangs and has a middle part, her hair falls like curtains on either side of her central face. Around her main head is a silver circlet with the chains embedded with tiny rubies that shimmer in the light, in the middle of her forehead is an oval, smooth blood diamond the size of a thumb with curling silver metal stemming away from the ruby. The silver designs are attached to a second chain that hangs down to the start of the bridge of her nose, decorated heavily with small rubies and diamonds. On both sides of the blood diamond are ruby-encrusted silver crows that face away, and are attached to the chain that swoops around her head and meets in the back. To add to her ethereal beauty, the Morrígan has pale skin that seems to shimmer in the moonlight and it stretches over a narrow, oval face with a sharp jaw and flat chin. Her nose is straight and long and her lips are downturned with rich ridges and a pointed cupid’s bow. Her round eyes are black and dull and seem to radiate an apathy that put off others.
However, the weirdest part of her appearance is undoubtedly the two extra heads that are placed to form a triangular form between the three. The head on the left has black feathers of a crow donning her cheeks and forehead as well as completely black eyes and black tinted lips. The head on the right was akin to a dog with large brown eyes and a black tinted nose and lips, as well as elongated canine teeth and a harsh, prominent brow. No jewelry is placed on these two heads and they do not talk, but are noted to see everything.
The Morrígan wears a beautiful black sheath dress that fits closely to the curves of her body, but has a straight skirt with a lack of a waist. The dress is ankle length and a weird, comfortable-appearing fabric, and has a low back that shows the beginning outward curve of her spine. However, the most important part of her dress is the schiffli lace overlay, with embroidered, floppy flowers; the overlay has a high-collar that ends at the top of her neck. It is floor length, with a court train that extends far behind her, and the schiffli lace covers her exposed back as well. Over her dress, the Morrígan wears a black feather shawl that ends at the tops of her shoulders. To secure the mantle, a silver chair clasps each end together over her chest. She carries a spear in her hand usually as well as a small ax.
|Earthly Appearance|
As a 5’6” human, the Morrígan had her hair parted to the right and the left side to her ear was shaved (not a complete full shave, though), with only a little bit of stubble left. However, she tends to hide it sometimes by combing her hair to that side. Instead of the silken and sleekness of her godly tresses, the Morrígan’s hair is seen as unkempt with a slight amount of grease and tangles. Long side-swept bangs have been added, curving around her temple and rejoining her hair and what was once ebony is now a blonde color. She has a diamond-shaped head with a strong jaw and a slightly-pointed chin. Her eyes are small and a light blue color and a dabble of brown by the pupil. They are almond shaped and shrewd-looking, giving her a sly appearance like a fox or a snake. Her nose is pert and pointed, but her nostrils are rather wide, making her nose look slightly disproportionate to the rest of her face. The Morrígan has thin, twisted lips, with the right side higher up than the left, and her cupid’s bow is narrow and undefined. While she is still pale compared to others, she is certainly more tan than she was before with a light pink-peach coloration that makes her look awkward when wearing yellow or other light colors. Her skin has been inked with tattoos, as well: on her left arm is an electric eel twisting around until the head ends at her shoulder, snarling; on her right shoulder is a rabid dog, frothing at the mouth; on her right thigh is a crow perched on a branch and a skull clasped in its talons; a large willow tree starts at the bottom of her back and leans towards the left, following the outline of the edge of her back, before the trunk stops at the top of her back and the branches begin to expand towards the right of her body; a bed of belladonna, skulls, and rubies start at the top of her hip on her side and extend down to the outside of her left thigh. When in military uniform, the Morrígan makes sure to conceal her tattoos as per protocol with long sleeves or her uniform.
The Morrígan prefers a boho-grunge look, liking to wear jean shorts with leggings or tights with heeled boots. She likes her shirts baggy and her jackets baggier. Sometimes she will wear a beanie, but not always. However, when alone, she will often walk around in her undergarments with a baggy shirt. The Morrígan hates wearing too much clothes and as such will wear as little as she can get away with. She doesn’t like to wear too much jewelry or makeup, preferring only eye makeup and a bracelet or ring here and there. Despite her lack of jewelry, she loves hats of all sorts and has a collection of them in her closet.
☼☼☼
☼☼☼
|Personality|
When she was a goddess, the Morrígan was often seen as a dark deity and someone to avoid. However, she showed prowess and loyalty on the battlefield as well as a harbinger for those she took pity on and warned them of their deaths. She was graceful and cold, like marble, but protective of her people, like a mother. The brunette had a strong maternal instinct and a hot-temper, but she was impulsive and quick to jump in front of the line of fire for even the lowliest human. Despite them not having the utmost faith in her, the Morrígan always placed her confidence in humanity. The Morrígan was a bit of a martyr as well, seeing sacrifice - especially her sacrifice - necessary for the greater good.
As a human, the Morrígan is a stark contrast to her goddess counterpart. Without the ability to protect those she cared for, the Morrígan became powerless and weak much like the humans she tried to shield. Not only that, but the carnage she experienced as a goddess carried over, but now she didn't have the psyche of a war deity to protect herself against the memories. As such, the Morrígan suffers from PTSD and can have flash backs when seeing violence; despite her being mentally unfit to serve, the Morrígan still insists in being in the military as it is all she knows. In order to cope with the violent things she had done and seen, the Morrígan became hedonistic and lost her self-control when it came to denying herself pleasure to drown out the bad. The Morrígan has especially taken to alcohol, accumulating quite the addiction, and an unhealthy obsession with nature noises when going to sleep. Her experience as being weak as a human has left her cynical and callous, no longer caring about the affairs of humans or the deaths of others - the only reason she still protects people is because she wants to cling to the last bit of normalcy from her last life. The Morrígan has adopted a nihilistic view on life, though she doesn't actively participate in the beliefs, she agrees that morals and such are just man-made lies, unnecessary to dwell on. She has come to believe that violence and inherit evilness is a part of human nature. When talking to others, she's crass and sarcastic, wielding words of acid, and thus comes off as uncharismatic and uncouth. She is also noted to be selfish and uncaring of others' problems. The Morrígan is able to turn on the manipulation when she needs to, and displays a cunning nature that allows her to lie and control through her teeth in order to meet her ends. In the face of hard times, the Morrígan is able to retain an objective point of view and stop emotions from clouding her judgement; however, she rarely even attempts to be objective or even attempt to fix problems.
The Morrígan is not without her good points. Despite her acerbic personality, she is rather playful and possesses a humor. She's self-indulgent and hates being serious, rather laughing and playing video games than try to stop the big bad guy. There is little that the Morrígan fears and she will face anything valiantly if needs be; in her life, she is loyal to those who are loyal to her and have earned her trust.
|Family|
Nemain: The Morrígan's older sister who loves the frenzy of war; they were close when they were deities, but after the Morrígan fell off the wagon, Nemain and her have been on bad terms
Macha: The Morrígan's younger sister who disappeared after the pantheon fell.
Badb Catha: The Morrígan's pet crow; Badb Catha is very intelligent and can even speak a few words herself; she is used partly as a delivery system as well; The Morrígan is very attached to Badb Catha and would probably kill someone if they harmed a feather on her
|Strengths|
Cunning
Brave
Loyal
Playful
Objective
|Weaknesses|
Callousness
Hedonism
Cynicism
Selfish
Alcoholism
|Likes|
Camping
Milk
Crows
Alcohol (Whiskey and Poitín in particular)
Apples
Shepherd's Pie
Barmbrack
Irish coffee
Colors: Silver and red
Sound of nature
Hammocks
|Dislikes
Sobriety
Darkness
Bears
Sweet food
Orange juice
Strong smells
Loud noises
Sight of blood
|History|
War was the only thing the Morrígan knew, as a goddess and a human. During her golden years, if she perceived the slightest threat on her worshipers or her people, she would rush head first into battle, forcing the enemy’s hand. This gathered her a bad reputation among her people as a warmonger and an evil deity – they had even fashioned an evil sorceress named Morgan Le Fey after her. It hurt her to know that they hated her, but the Morrígan believed it was her duty to her people to accept the burden of their hatred in order to protect them.
During these years of hers, the Morrígan had committed atrocious acts as well as witness them; but as a goddess, she was able to rationalize and store the information as simple bad memories – not dealing with it eventually led to her having lasting PTSD as a human. Even though the Morrígan understood the horrible things she did and didn’t want to do them anymore, she initially refused to give up her godly powers as she saw them her only purpose in life. However, her sister, Nemain, eventually convinced her to give it up.
Now a human and dealing with PTSD, the Morrígan turned to alcoholism and the military in order to cope with her new life. Several times she had been to rehab in the past years – and she remembers hitting someone with her car once and then driving away, but the memory is hazy – as well as therapy because of her emotional outbursts. But instead of dealing with it, the Morrígan forced herself to lock her memories in an emotionless part of her and numb her mind with more booze.
The Morrígan, now under the name Regan, lived a small, unassuming life – first in Ireland and then relocated to the United States where she ended up being a Colonel in the Air Force. She didn’t bother with romance, though she did engage in one night stands here and there, and she made a couple of friends at work, though they weren’t particularly close or anything. Mostly her life has been sleeping in her apartment in her underwear with a beer case next to her.
|Opinion on Mortals|
As a goddess, the Morrígan saw humans as something precious to protect, a purpose for the wars in which she created, a purpose for her.
As a human, her value of humans has dropped drastically. She sees them as inherently evil creatures that were born to kill and destroy. Though, she doesn't think highly of herself, either. She believes it is in human nature to take and destroy.
|Theme Song|
This is War – Thirty Seconds to Mars
"A warning to the people, the good and the evil
This is war
To the soldier, the civilian, the martyr, the victim
This is war
It's the moment of truth and the moment to lie
And the moment to live and the moment to die
The moment to fight, the moment to fight,
To fight, to fight, to fight”
|Favorite Myth|
Thor and Utgarda-Loki
☼☼☼
☼☼☼
|Mortal Skills/Abilities|
As a human, the Morrígan still retains knowledge on militant strategy and prowess in combat. However, she has since learned how to use a gun and several martial arts. But, most importantly, the Morrígan has picked up several calming hobbies: bonsai tree cutting, art collecting, calligraphy, chess, and flower arranging. She's also quite good at mixing drinks.
|Immortal Skills/Abilities|
As a goddess of war, the Morrígan was able to instill people with fear or bravery when she saw fit, and this ability has begun to return to her.
However, abilities that she has no regained is her ability to shape shift nor her ability to see the future, control others' dreams, or act as a harbinger of death.
☼☼☼
☼☼☼
"Hm. Sounds like a you problem, not a we problem."
D I S C L A I M E R: The Morrigan may or may not have been intoxicated whilst talking about her fellow deities. As such, she cannot be held liable for anything she has said
Janus → James Alfero
"What you character will say out loud about this person here"
Write more in depth about their relationship here.
Hades → Hadrian Pryde
"He's my beoir deartháir - my beer brother. My best drinking buddy - wish I had stayed near him, but America has angry drunks and I love angry drunks."
Write more in depth about their relationship here.
Benzaiten → Amane Mikami
"Benzaiten? That ending part sounds like satan...coincidence? I think not. But no, I do not know anybody by the name Menaiton...what? Oh, Benzaiten."
Write more in depth about their relationship here.
Aphrodite → Ellen Dove
"What you character will say out loud about this person here"
Write more in depth about their relationship here.
Huitzilopochtli → Hewitt Danford
"What you character will say out loud about this person here"
Write more in depth about their relationship here.
Anubis → Andrew Jackley
"What you character will say out loud about this person here"
Write more in depth about their relationship here.
Jormungand → Jordan Natter
"What you character will say out loud about this person here"
Write more in depth about their relationship here.
Maximón → Sebastian Morales
"What you character will say out loud about this person here"
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Persephone → Kora Black
"What you character will say out loud about this person here"
Write more in depth about their relationship here.
Bastet → Sable Amasi
*uncontrollable laughter* "She's that-that" *hysterical sniggering* "that cat-lady goddess right? Oh God, I love her. Please, please, please, please, please - what was I gonna say? - oh, please, tell me that she's" *hiccuping* "all alone living with, like, four hundred cats with weird ass names like Mrs. Mewler or Captain Pancake - what the fuck does a pancake have to do with a cat?" *more laughing*
Write more in depth about their relationship here.
Nemesis → June Fallon
"Anemanemansis! I fuggin' love her! She's like Christmas, but the opposite! Great taste in booze, too! Like this one time, this one time, sh-she brought me this alcohol-y thing and we, like, drank it and -" *reminiscent inebriated chuckles* "She's like Santa! But instead of presents, she brings alcohol!"
Write more in depth about their relationship here.
Máni → Emmanuel Welch
"What you character will say out loud about this person here"
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Nike → Nicole Harrow
"What you character will say out loud about this person here"
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Jack Mercer
"What you character will say out loud about this person here"
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Loki → Lawrence Lafferty
"What you character will say out loud about this person here"
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Quetzalcoatl → Querido Castillo
"What you character will say out loud about this person here"
Write more in depth about their relationship here.
Sleipnir → Stephen Lord
"In't he the eight-legged horse? Has he become a person now? I guess I shouldn't be too surprised - stranger things have come about from our transition. I wonder how his hair looks...Is it glossy and long? Ooh, does he look a bit like Fabio? I fucking love Fabio."
Write more in depth about their relationship here.
Fenrir → Wolfgang Reinhardt
"Ha, he goes by Wolfgang now, does'e? Mm, Fenrir was a fun time. Like my own personal free whore. So I guess that just makes him a helluva booty-call."
Write more in depth about their relationship here.
Hel → Helena Hansen
"A big pain in the ass. Never met anyone so anal about everything. Some alcohol could do her good, really."
Write more in depth about their relationship here.
Baron Samedi → Jean-François Salomon
"What you character will say out loud about this person here"
Write more in depth about their relationship here.
|Name|
Fenrir Lokison
|Alias(es)|
Wolfgang Reinhardt
Fenrisúlfr
Hróðvitnir
Vánagandr
|Gender|
Male
|Sexuality|
Bisexual
|Relationship Status|
Single
|Pantheon/Faith|
Norse
|Occupation|
High Class Dog Trainer...or at least that's what he does publicly; he's secretly a mule, smuggling contraband across borders (mostly weapons and drugs)
|Godly Appearance|
The demon wolf stands thousands of feet tall, his massive paws able to destroy trees with a swat and a single tooth longer than a man. Fenrir possesses coarse, shaggy brown and black hair that is tangled and mussed every which way. His jaw stretches to impossible lengths, his long elongated teeth connected with thick, frothy saliva. A long, squirming prehensile tongue lolls from his mouth, slobbering with a blood lust echoing in his beedy amber eyes. Miscellaneous organsims have begun to grow on his body, moss greening his teeth at the gums and mold began growing in the corners of his eyes. A huge halberd is pressed into his mouth, the point of the sword digging into a yellow, infected wound where insects and maggots crawl. The hilt of the sword is shoved into the softness of the roof of his mouth, surrounding by a black, painful bruising. Large, thick cobwebs have formed in his ears, with hundreds and thousands of spiders crawling around in their new, permanent home. Pure white bone barely peeks out from his fur, glimpses only seen through his rippling hair and seemingly bulky muscles. Spit and blood mix together, gathering in his mouth until it spills to the floor and his claws are jagged and rotting, holes eating away at the once sharp weapons. A thin stark red ribbon is wrapped tightly around his legs, tying them together, where he is forced to lay until free. The circulation has nearly been cut off by gleipnir, his ribbon-entrapment, and if anyone were to peer at the skin clinging to bone and exposed muscle beneath his fur, they would see a blue-grey hueness that rivals the dead half of Hel.
|Earthly Appearance|
Fenrir forsaked his monstrous wolf form for a more human one in order to fit into human society. He is most known for his curly hair that ends at the nape of his neck and is usually pushed back from his forehead - it tends to appear oily, no matter how much he washes it, and the grease tends to drive him crazy. He's considered handsome by most that he comes across, especially with his apathetic piercing eyes, sharp chin features with respectable cheekbones, and the perfect set of lips which are not too thick and not too thin. When amused, he has a tendency to smirk and furrow his eyebrows, causing a crease in his forehead, but adds to his enigmatic and dangerous allure. It is not so rare for him to fully laugh, and when he does, it reveals prominent two front teeth with a miniscule gap in between and a villianous-esque shape of his grin. He's of average height, standing at six feet, with a lean yet muscled body. He does have a bit of body hair on his chest and he tends to have stubble over his chin, remnants of his wolfish coat. Another example of evidence left after his fall from the Demon Wolf, is a scar on his tongue as well as slightly cracked nails. He has a tattoo on his shoulder, featuring a wolf staring at the viewer through the tears in his bicep flesh; one half of the wolves is white, and the other is black - the two wolves represent his two sons, Skoll and Hati, for which he is extremely loyal to.
When it comes to his clothes, Fenrir tends towards the badboy, "I couldn't care less" line. He enjoys wearing hoodies and leather jackets with t-shirts, sometimes with lower necklines, or plaid shirts, with simple jeans and boots. He does, however, wear his favorite brown fingerless gloves and several silver rings on his fingers. Due to having spent most of his human life in Ireland, Fenrir has an Irish accent that he is quite proud of and believes makes his prospective lovers swoon on their feet. He hates wearing heavy cologne, but will spritz a bit on here and there when he sees fit. It is often hard to tell what Fenrir is thinking, though his face isn't passive and expresses his emotions, it often appears rapidly and is hard to analyze as one emotion or the other.
|Personality|
Fenrir is incredibly hot-headed and has a tendency to destroy things when mad. His ire is easily evoked and he tends to hold a mean grudge. He especially holds a grudge towards the Nordic gods due to them locking him up – and biting off a guy’s hand isn’t enough retribution for him. He isn’t the type that goes seeking for revenge, but if an opportunity appears, he would take it in a heartbeat, no matter the cost. His years of loneliness have left him bitter and perpetually angry inside, though he often hides it with a laidback attitude and snarky comments. Because of his harsh treatment, Fenrir can often be apathetically cruel and ruthless – he will do anything in order to get what he wants, being rather determined, and he is exceptionally petty. From his outermost layer to his innermost core, Fenrir is a criminal – if there’s a law about it, he most likely committed it (excluding bestiality and incest; though he has tried cannibalism, but it wasn’t quite his thing) – and rather lacks any morals. Not only is he a criminal, he is a heartbreaker as well; Fenrir has problems with commitment, whether it’s his fear of being betrayed once again, or his preference to not being tied down figuratively like he was once physically, is unknown. Though he does quite like sex and happens to have one-night stands habitually and constantly. His flirtatiousness and bad boy charm makes it relatively easy for him, too. Guys and girls just can’t resist him, it seems. Despite his rather strained relationship with his father, Fenrir is family-oriented and tries his best to protect them to the best of his ability, even if it means staying away as to not involve them in his criminal activity. However, though he’s extremely loyal to them, Fenrir does value himself overall and might use them here and there if he sees no other way around it. He doesn’t believe in heroics, but he does believe in sacrifice in order to protect your children, and Fenrir would do anything for his two sons, even if it means standing idly by as they live their immortal lives as common mutts.
Fenrir is unbelievably curious and believes in trying everything once. As such, he is rather adventurous and has an exhilarating, living-on-the-edge lifestyle that often attracts others to him – though not for a very long time, as if he stays with them, they typically leave him after a couple of weeks due to the recklessness that comes along with it. When with his current special someone, Fenrir has the ability to make them feel special, like precious diamonds, and like no other person in the world. Whether it’s from his carefully chosen compliments or his abandonment of his common bed-rule, people flock to him if only to have that above-the-world feeling. Though he sleeps around a lot, he would never treat his lover wrong, and is quite the gentleman and romantic; he always treats week-longs with nice, expensive dinners and one-nights with sweet candles and rose petals.
|Family|
Hati - Fenrir's eldest son. He chased after the moon god, Mani, for most of his life; whenever he almost caught him, the Shinto moon god cut off his left hand. When it was time to give up their powers, Hati chose to remain as a wolf and Fenrir now takes care of him as his wolfdog. Because he is a regular dog rather than a god, he doesn't remember his life as a god or he doesn't possess the high order thinking that he had before.
Skoll - Skoll is Fenrir's second son. He used to chase Sol until Fenrir supposedly ate her; when it was time to give up their godly abilities, Skoll chose to remain as a canine to be with his brother and protect him now that he was missing a limb. Because he is a wolfdog now, Fenrir takes care of him at his house and pretends that he is his pet when mortal are around. Due to his lack of high order thinking, he doesn't remember his life as a dog which, in turn, has a horrible effect on Fenrir, who is distraught at seeing his sons like common mutts.
Loki - Fenrir's father. Fenrir is angry with his father and claims to hate him passionately because he never did anything to save him whenever he was tied up. However, he doesn't want to confront his father in fear of disrupting and breaking the family, and so he tends to avoid Loki and, when he does meet him, keep the interaction brief.
Sleipnir - Fenrir's older brother. Fenrir and him have a slightly tense, neutral relationship due to Sleipnir being the personal pet of Odin. Fenrir believes that it was degrading and is disgusting that Sleipnir subjected himself to such things. However, Fenrir doesn't typically voice this opinion unless he is incredibly mad at or frustrated with Sleipnir. Not only this, but his allegiance - whether it be reluctant or not - to Odin enrages Fenrir because of Odin's destruction of the family.
Hel - Fenrir's older sister. They do not typically talk as Fenrir's afraid of getting her and her family involved in his criminal activities. However, his worries typically don't stop him from coming to visit her whenever he needs something (working at a funeral home makes it convenient for her to hide bodies for him) and her loyalty to the family usually resolves in her reluctantly doing it.
Jormungand - Fenrir's older brother. They're on fine terms, visiting each other here and then - he's an underwater photographer now. Jormungand sort of knows that Fenrir is up to something, as Fenrir isn't exactly trying to hide it, but he rather his brother not know the specifics
|Strengths|
Sensuality and romanticism
Adventurous
Loyal
Charming
Family-oriented
|Weaknesses|
Immoral
Hot-headed
Reckless
Commitment issues
Cruel
|Likes|
Dogs
Peanut Butter
Boxing and martial arts
Traveling
Southern Sweet Tea
|Dislikes
Cats
Strong smells
Coffee
Dark Chocolate
Staying still
|History|
Fenrir was born to Loki and the giantess Angrboda. However, when he was just a boy, Odin received a prophecy that Fenrir would kill him in Ragnarok. Not wanting to die, Odin confined Fenrir into a cell in Asgard, where he was kept from the light of day. The only person willing to feed him was Tyr, who pitied the wolf, and during the time, Fenrir even began to trust Tyr. However, Fenrir was growing too fast too quickly and Odin decided that he could no longer keep him in Asgard. They brought him to the forest in which they tested out many chains in order to hold him – Tyr lied to Fenrir, telling him it was a testament of his strength, and because he was his friend, Fenrir believed him. Every chain they brought to him, Fenrir broke, until Odin called to the dwarfs and asked them to make him a chain strong enough to hold Fenrir. The dwarfs made a small ribbon out of impossible ingredients (the sound of a cat’s footsteps, the beard of a woman, the roots of stones, the breath of a fish, the spittle of a bird) and thus would be impossible to break. Fenrir became suspicious when Tyr presented him with the small, light Gleipnir, as it has been named, and suspected that Tyr was betraying him. So, he declared that the only way that he would place Gleipnir on his wrists was if one of the gods placed his hand in Fenrir’s mouth as a sign of good faith. No one agreed, knowing that they would lose their hands, until Tyr finally volunteered his hand. He placed it between the jaws of Fenrir (who was only the size of a horse at that moment) as they bound Fenrir’s legs together, making it nearly impossible for him to stand. Fenrir tried with all his might to break Gleipnir, but he couldn’t, and when he ordered Tyr to release him and he refused, Fenrir ripped Tyr’s hand off, swallowing the hand so it could never be reattached. Tyr was rushed away and to the goddess of healing, and he never returned to see Fenrir again. Out of anger, the gods placed a sword in his mouth, forcing his jaw to stretch impossibly and his tongue to forever be cut. And then they left him to rot.
Fenrir lived centuries alone in the forest, and only received food when the gods were feeling particularly giving (and when they were they were feeling even more so charitable, they came to bring a bigger and sharper sword to place in his mouth). Lonely, Fenrir became bitter with the gods – and especially his father, who he had expected to come save him. To make matters worse, Fenrir was still growing – soon, Gleipnir began to cut off his circulation, and mold and moss began to grow on him. The open cut on his tongue became infested and infected and the roof of his mouth horribly bruised, perhaps even with some internal bleeding. He was in pain constantly, and many times he wished he could have killed himself, but there was no possible way that he could have. He felt betrayed by everybody he loved – no one was coming to save him. Why weren’t they coming to save him? - and anger possessed his being, boiling inside of him.
When he was finally able to break Gleipnir, Fenrir was in a delirious state. He killed everything he saw – carnage of animals appeared left and right – and, unfortunately, his eyes laid on Sol. He attacked her in a feverish rampage and almost even attacked his son, though he was finally able to snap out of it. When he did snap out, Sol was gone – maybe she fell. He couldn’t remember any of the events that had transpired, but when his son told him that he had killed the Sun goddess, he couldn’t find himself to particularly care. Instead, he left, going searching for Odin. However, when he arrived, he found himself out matched. Before Odin dealt the killing blow, Sleipnir stepped in and stopped Odin. Fenrir has been angry at Sleipnir for stopping Odin, wishing that Odin would have just killed him right then and there, believing that there could only be Odin or Fenrir.
When it came time to give up his powers, Fenrir was reluctant to give away his powers, but ultimately decided to do so in order to start anew. When his sons decided to remain as sons, Fenrir was heartbroken and distraught at having to see his sons as mindless beasts, but he ultimately promised them he would take care of them with the best of his abilities. Living as a mortal came naturally to him – he started out as a hunter, and even had jobs such as being a boxer and a martial artist, but throughout his life on earth, he had always been a criminal. He lived mostly in Ireland, but he hated settling in one place, and would often move to a bunch of other places; he is currently residing in Ireland again and is a dog trainer on the side of his criminal business.
|Opinion on Mortals|
Fenrir adores mortals - he finds them refreshing and honest, hardworking, good people. He loves their presence, especially over the gods, and finds living the life of a mortal as exhilarating. He believes in the capabilities of mortals and of the mortal world and supports their endeavors. However, he would never sacrifice his life for them.
|Theme Song|
Novocaine – Fall Out Boy
"This is a black, black ski mask song
So put all of your anger on
In the truly gruesome do we trust
I will always land on you like a sucker punch
Singing I am your worst, I am your worst nightmare
I am your worst, I am your worst nightmare
If you knew, knew what the bluebirds sang at you,
You would never sing along
Cast them out cause this is our culture
These new flocks are nothing but vultures
Because they took our love and they filled it up
Filled it up with Novocaine and now I’m just numb
Now I’m just numb
And don't mind me, I’m just a son of a gun
So don’t stop, don’t stop until your heart goes numb
Now I’m just numb
I don’t feel a thing for you”
|Favorite Myth|
Thor crossdressing to get Mjolnir back
|Mortal Skills/Abilities|
Now living as a mortal, Fenrir only has a residue of his heightened senses left and a little bit of tracking knowledge. Even now, though, his senses can't even rival that of a dog and his hunting might even be worst than normal human hunters. Despite this, though, he has become an amazing liar and can track down any human through technological means as well as an expert gunman and collector, with an added bartering skill. He can cook a mean meal, too.
|Immortal Skills/Abilities|
As an oversized wolf, Fenrir had ungodly strength, able to crush bones with a simple press of his nail, and destroy mountains with a simple pounce. The only thing that could hold him down was Gleipnir, a ribbon fashioned by the dwarfs out of six nearly impossible ingredients. His senses were heightened to the point in which he could see smells and taste scents; every person that he came across, he would instantly memorize their smell forever and could find them, no matter where they went. He was an excellent tracker and hunter and loved the thrill of the hunt. His speed was hilariously fast for such an ginormous thing - though he was nowhere as fast as other gods, he could give normal, or even abnormal wolves, a run for their money.
|Name|
Hel Lokisdottir
|Alias(es)|
Helena Hansen
|Gender|
Female
|Sexuality|
Demisexual
|Relationship Status|
Married, in the process of divorcing
|Pantheon/Faith|
Norse
|Occupation|
Owner of Hansen's Funeral Home as well as head funeral director there
|Godly Appearance|
As the goddess of the underworld, Hel was most known for her coldness. Not a cold personality, but a cold appearance of gaunt beauty withering away. The only thing that softened her weary appearance was her attractive smile. While it wasn't the most wide, it was a subtle, graceful smile that had a way of making eyes look soulful and empathetic. Her hair was the next more notable; it was a thick nest of flouncing, glossy brown curls that fell to her waist. She usually kept it twisted into a half-updo with stray curls framing her face; long, diamond-encrusted barrettes followed the length and curve of the semi-French braided locks. Hel was tall and slim, with not much curves to boast for, but a quiet, commanding elegance that brought attention to her whenever she walked in. Her skin was a sickly white, with every dip and nook enhanced with prominent shadows, making her face appear gaunt and deprived. Her eyes were a light, sky blue, that seemed to have such a profound depth that one could swim in them. Hel's makeup was kept simple: a dark red lipstick applied aptly to every curve of her lips, enhancing the thickness; her eyes were shadowed with brown and thick, black eyelashes made her small eyes appear bigger. However, this wasn't what disgusted her patrons or fellow gods and made her a pariah to be avoided. Half of her body was composed of dying, stretching skin with thick, post-mortem wrinkles. The lid of her eye was missing and the full, glassy white orb could be seen portruding from the round eye socket. Her arm was skeletal and skinny, mere flesh clinging to bone with no muscle in between and blue veins pulsed visibly up and down her arm.
To distract from her ugly half, Hel often wore an Empire, layered dress that was floor length and accentuated her graceful, slim body. The sleeves were connected to the dress, as if to appear as a shawl, with a slit from her underarm all the way down; the sleeves fell into the length of the dress. The boat neck emphasized her height and the thinness of her neck. The most impressive aspect of her peach-tan dress was the sown-in diamonds that clustered around the top gradually lessening as they travelled downwards; pure gold lace was embroidered in streaming lines to add depth to the dress. Hel hated to wear shoes, and instead wore lacy embroidery on her feet, secured with silk ribbons.
|Earthly Appearance|
Living as a goddess, Hel was known for her ugliness which has left her very insecure. Now, as a mortal, the dead half of her body had been removed in order for her to blend more into the world. But that wasn’t enough for her – Hel has gone under much plastic surgery in order to appear as beautiful as she is now. She has gotten surgery on her eyes, to make them appear wider, as well as a nose job to look more refined. Her lips have mostly been untouched, though she has gotten a chin implant to make her face look more feminine that it was previously. She has received liposuction multiple times and has work done on her breasts – though she will never admit it – to make them appear more full (not so much big, but round). She had plans to get rid of the bags that appear under her eyes a lot, but unfortunately had to cancel in order to finish some business with Fenrir. She cut her once long hair and uses a lot of hair products in order to keep it flouncy and alive rather than flat and she gets a perm every now and then due to it not maintaining the beautiful curls it had when she was a goddess. She typically spends hundreds of dollars at the spa every Sunday while her kids are at the babysitter’s.
Hel takes careful attendance to her makeup, usually placing a lot on her skin, but has become such an expert at making it appear completely natural on her body. Every morning and night she performs a skin regiment in order to make her skin silky and perfect rather than the dead and wrinkled skin she is terrified of possessing again. She wears fake eyelashes all the time and will never be caught without being made up entirely. Her choice of style can be called as sophisticated and elegant, choosing to wear clothes that seem professional and modest, but flattering and attractive. Hel only wears clothes and makeup healthy for the skin and always takes care of her body. She habitually works out in order to keep her body toned and she is on a strict diet – she only allows herself to eat chocolate every now and then. She does not drink at all because of the damage it does to liver and because she doesn’t want to look prematurely aged. She avoids medication as much as she can, too, because she doesn’t want any bad side effects to take place physically – though she does take vitamins. Hel has a hard time sleeping which would show in bags under her eyes, if she did not hide it.
|Personality|
Living as one of the, if not the, ugliest deity in the Nordic pantheon, Hel has developed a severe insecurity of her appearance and a fear of becoming old and getting wrinkles (despite being immortal). It has gone so far that she has developed an addiction to plastic surgery and is obsessed with her physical image. However, her physical appearance is not her only obsession, as Hel gets obsessed easily – whether it be with a man or a song – and tends to focus on that one thing for years at a time. Currently, Hel is obsessed with the idea of a family, leading to her adopting an excessive amount of children (three) in the span of six months. Her maternal personality may also add to this obsession of hers because of her kind heart when it comes to the young and frail. But when it comes to wrongdoers and douchebags, Hel can be extremely ruthless and callous when dealing with their fate. Outwardly, Hel appears calm and collected and can be eloquent and clear-headed. She seems like the perfect ruler of the underworld, objective and fair to those who cross her threshold. She believes in justice, but her idea of justice is quite skewed – she believes in the idea of an eye for an eye, a hand for a hand, a life for a life. Though she can be hypocritical considering her and her family’s misdeeds. As such, Hel can be pretentious, believing herself above the law because of her importance as a goddess and a handler of death. She can come off as aloof and detached, even when she is very much attached to the subject at hand, and she has a strict, businesslike personality.
Hel can be quite protective of her loved ones, even bordering on possessive, and gets jealous easily. She is often paranoid of her lovers, believing them to be cheating on her because of her insecurity (though she was not wrong in her husband’s case). However, her fatal flaw is her envy of other women’s things, such as riches or love, but most especially their beauty. When she is like this, or having to deal with something carefully, Hel can be manipulative and uses her cleverness to succeed (an apt example would be her deal with Frigga in order to resurrect Baldr). Nevertheless, Hel does have a sense of humor – albeit morbid and inappropriate – and can is exceptionally responsible. Hel is remarkably observant when it comes to people’s intentions, though she can be tricked when it comes to love because of her already inset paranoia, and is faithful to whoever she is currently committed to.
|Family|
Mistletoe - Hel's loyal pet owl. He is addicted to nesquik and likes to steal sponges from the neighbors.
Loki - Hel's father. She emulates her father and idolizes him because of his loyalty to the family and his mischief towards the other gods. However, she is able to admit that her father has made mistakes in his lifetime, some irreversible.
Sleipnir - Hel's older half-brother. Despite him only being her half-brother, Hel treats him just as well as she treats her other brothers. She pitied him as the mount of Odin and makes it a point of keeping Fenrir in line if there is ever a fight. Hel hasn't talked to Sleipnir in a while, having been preoccupied with her own problems.
Jormungand - Jormungand - Hel's younger brother. While she is not particularly close to him, she is extremely protective of him. She sees him as the weakest link among the family and thinks it is her duty as his older sister to protect him. Of course, in recent years, she's been rather lacking and hasn't spent too much time with him.
Fenrir - Hel's youngest brother. Hel is closest to Fenrir, though it isn't by choice. His criminal activity worries her and she has warned him to not involve her in any of it, though every now and then he'll convince her to let him hide a body in her cemetery. They have become close because of his visits every now and then.
Kent Hansen - Hel's husband. They are currently in the process of divorcing after she discovered he was cheating on her with his secretary, Miranda (a twenty-one year old blonde who flunked out of college and had a failing modelling career). Hel has been assured that she will be receiving everything because of the evidence of his adultery and she plans to rob him of everything he has, even his visiting rights of the children, if she can.
Lacy - Lacy is Hel's biological nine year old daughter, whose father is Kent Hansen. She has an obsession with origami and owls. She is very close to her mother, but not very close to her father, and her mother affectionately calls her Birdie.
Eden - Eden is Hel's adopted four month old baby girl. Ezra is her younger twin brother. Hel started the adoption process when Eden was just a couple of weeks old; however, it looked as if she wouldn't receive Eden and so she sought out a pregnant woman whose recent surrogacy plan fell through.
Ezra - Ezra is Hel's adopted four month old baby boy. He is the younger twin brother of Eden. Hel started the adoption process when Ezra was just a couple of weeks old; however, it looked as if she wouldn't receive Ezra and so she sought out a pregnant woman whose recent surrogacy plan fell through.
Oakley - Oakley is Hel's adopted month old son. When Hel was afraid that she would not be able to have Eden, Hel found Oakley's mother who was a surrogate that fell through after the couple got a divorce and she was left with the baby.
|Strengths|
Cleverness
Eloquence
Maternal instinct
Observant
Clear-headed
|Weaknesses|
Paranoid
Possesive
Obsessive
Jealous/Envious
Insecure
Inappropriately morbid humor
|Likes|
Dark chocolate
Clocks (she collects them)
Coffee
Family
Plastic surgery
Art
|Dislikes
Ugliness
Musicals
Alcohol
Smokers
Wrinkles
|History|
Not much can be said about Hel’s life. As a goddess, she was incredibly ugly, dejected, and lonely. She spent most of her time in the cold Helheim with no one to keep her company except for the souls of the dead. However, she did get her kicks every now and then when a god came to beg her to bring someone or other back to live – one of her favorite times is when Frigga came to visit for Baldr and Hel had her laugh over making a nearly impossible and ridiculous deal (she even named her owl after the whole affair). She yearned to see her family often, but she really only got visits from her father, Loki, every now and then as her brothers were pretty occupied in their own exiled life. Hel gladly gave up her life as a goddess in hopes of starting anew, with a fresh, beautiful face.
She had her first plastic surgery in 2006 and has been addicted to plastic surgery ever since; but she has pretty good doctors, and so she doesn’t worry about coming out looking like one of those failed surgery-women. She settled in France where she became a lowly mortician assistant to a man named Hector Hansen. During a Christmas Party, though, she met his multi-millionaire son who made his money off of a big company, and fell in love. They married a year or two after dating and started a life together. They even had a daughter, named Lacy, and had an adoption going through. However, their marital journey was cut short when Hel walked in on his secretary on her knees in his office. Hel could stand much, but adultery was not one of them, and so she drew up divorced papers and hired the best divorce lawyer money could buy – she plans to rob him and get full custody of her new three babies and Lacy.
|Opinion on Mortals|
She's neutral to them. She owes no allegiance to her fellow gods or to the humans. She believes that, like the deities, humans have the capability to do good and to do evil and believes that wrong is wrong, no matter if you are a god or a human. (Ironically, considering the family she comes from and the secret murdered bodies in her cemetery.)
|Theme Song|
Young and Beautiful – Lana Del Rey
"I've seen the world
Done it all
Had my cake now
Diamonds, brilliant
And Bel Air now
Hot summer nights, mid July
When you and I were forever wild
The crazy days, city lights
The way you'd play with me like a child
Will you still love me
When I'm no longer young and beautiful?
Will you still love me
When I got nothing but my aching soul?
I know you will, I know you will
I know that you will
Will you still love me when I'm no longer beautiful?”
|Favorite Myth|
Baldr and the Mistletoe
|Mortal Skills/Abilities|
The only skill that has been carried over to her everyday life is her intimate knowledge of the human anatomy. Nowadays, she makes her living putting makeup on dead people - quite well, mind you - and selling coffins to fragile-minded people. She's a rather good saleswoman, too. Though she has become an excellent fashionista as well as an art-collector and has apt knowledge in the history of art and fashion throughout the ages (especially because she lived through some of it).
|Immortal Skills/Abilities|
Hel will regain her ability to know how someone is going to die, though it is always subject to change depending on how they change their path in life, and she will never know when or the circumstances surrounding it.
As a death goddess, Hel always instinctively knew when someone has died and their identity. She had the ability to bring dead gods back to life, but not mortals because of their fragile bodies and psyche.
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3,170
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Interacting With: Her brother
Location: Home, then Asgard
It was a peaceful day in Saitama, Japan. The rain was gently pitter-pattering on the roof of Amane's Japanese home. The tiny little raindrops clinging to the leaves in the garden was a pretty sight. Gentle rain was by far Amane's favorite type of weather. The water was her home, after all. Even after all of those years.
There had been quite a few hot days in a row, so the rain was a welcome distraction. If Amane didn't have other things to worry about, she would be sitting out on the balcony, tilting her face up to feel the raindrops splashing upon her face. The scent of petrichor was a heavenly one, and no doubt very apparent at the current moment. It was simply a lovely day, and Amane wished that she could enjoy it.
But her idiot brother was nowhere in sight.
She had been waiting for him for hours because he usually came home a lot earlier on Wednesdays. While Amane didn't really set up plans to do anything important with Daichi, Wednesdays were usually a day when the two siblings got to lounge, play games and enjoy each other's company.
If Daichi wasn't home, he was probably out gambling or drinking. Which isn't a problem in moderation, but Amane was extremely concerned that he was enjoying himself a bit too much. It wasn't rare for him to come home at 4 in the morning, drunk off of his ass--and that was a good day. Usually, he didn't come home at all. It was probably unhealthy at this point, and he knew of her concern--she voiced it quite openly. Still, he insisted on partying until ungodly hours and worrying her sick.
She grabbed her phone, checking for text messages. There was nothing. Amane glanced worriedly at the clock--12:43 AM. He had work tomorrow, he really shouldn't be out. Still, Amane wasn't going to sprint outside in the rain to find him then drag him home. He was an adult after all, he could handle him self. She knew that.
But worrying is second nature to her.
With a defeated sigh, she went over to the meal she had prepared for him and covered it all with a copious amount of saran wrap before stuffing it into the fridge. If he wasn't back now, he likely wouldn't be back until daybreak. Amane trudged over to her room to retire for the night. Hopefully, Daichi wouldn't get into too much trouble.
Amane crawled under the cold covers, curling up tightly into herself until her body heat started to warm her bed up. Once she got all nice and warm, she rolled over to grab her phone and send one last text to her brother.
いつまでも遊んでないで、ちゃんと帰ってきてね？
気を付けて、トラブルに巻き込まれないように！
Instead of just partying all night, be sure to come home too, okay?
Be careful, and don't get into too much trouble.
Amane sat up abruptly with a gasp. Her heart was pounding wildly, and it felt like ice was coursing through her veins. She pushed her hair away from her face with her clammy hands as she tried to take figure out why she suddenly bolted awake. Was it a nightmare? No, nightmares didn't leave a bad aftertaste in her mouth. Amane was shaken to the core. A feeling of dread crept up on her and settled into her stomach. She was feeling queasy now. No, not quite. Empty? Still not right. Fear wasn't the correct term either.
Whatever it was, it wasn't pleasant.
Amane didn't realize how fast and shallow her breathing was until she felt like she wasn't getting enough air. She held her breath for a moment, then forced herself to take long measured breaths, counting 4 seconds for each inhale and exhale. It managed to calm her thudding heartbeat, but the horrible feeling still remained. This wasn't normal. What was going on?
Amane's cell phone buzzed on the night stand. As she reached to grab it, she caught sight of the time: 4:37 AM. It wasn't like her to wake up in the middle of the night. Anyways, she redirected her attention to her phone, and nearly cried in relief when she saw that it was from her brother. Unfortunately, that meant that he wasn't home yet but at least he was calling--wait. Why was he calling her at 4 in the morning?
「もしもし、大地！？今どこにいるの？」Daichi! Where are you? Amane hissed into the receiver. She was a little on edge from her strange feelings and came off a bit harsher than she intended.
「姉貴、とりあえず落ち着け。俺は大丈夫だからさ。」Sis, calm down. I'm fine. Despite Daichi reassuring her that he was okay, something in his tone of voice made her sit up a little straighter in her bed. There was a grave, serious ring to his tone right now--something that she hasn't heard in years. When he assumed the persona of Daichi, he had become carefree, lacking in authority and more interested in the fun parts of life. But now... He sounded like the God of the Japanese Underworld once again. Instinctively, Amane knew that it was connected to that horrid feeling enveloping her.
「だ、大地？何が起きてるの？」D-Daichi, what's happening? Amane whispered into her phone, tucking her knees into her chest. 「何か起こったんでしょう？今、ものすごく嫌な気持ちなんだけど・・・」Something happened, didn't it? I feel absolutely horrible right now...
「姉貴、落ち着いて聞いてくれ。」Don't freak out, okay? Just listen. Amane held her breath and squeezed herself as she heard Daichi speak. Whenever someone prefaced their news with that phrase, it always was bad news. Always. 「オーディンが殺された。」Odin is dead.
Amane's eyebrows knit together in shock. 「オーディンって・・・あのオーディン！？神の？嘘でしょ？私たちは死ねないんじゃないの？」 Odin...? The Odin? The god?No way... I thought that we couldn't die! Amane gripped her phone tightly in her hand as she lowered her head to rest on her knees. She continued on in a weak, small voice. 「お願い、冗談だって言ってよ・・・怒らないからさ。」Please tell me that it's some kind of sick joke... I promise that I won't get mad.
「残念ながら、希望に答えられないな。俺だって嘘だって思いだぞ。でも、俺も一応地獄の閻魔大王だからな。俺にだって、神が死んだらわかるさ。」 Unfortunately, I can't. I want to believe that it's not true either. But I'm still technically Enma, God of the Japanese Underworld. I would know if a God died. Despite the impossible situation, Amane knew it to be true. Odin had died. Even if Daichi was off fooling around for the past few years, he was right. He is the God of the Japanese underworld. She knew that somehow, all the pantheons were connected as they shared each other's godly realms. Even if it wasn't his own pantheon, Daichi would know--especially with such a major god passing away.
「お前だって感じるだろう？俺たちの力が湧き出る感触を。」You've felt it too, haven't you? Our powers returning to us. Amane hadn't realized how she felt power surging from within her--it had been concealed by the sense of impending doom. But now that he's mentioned it, Amane noticed that she felt stronger, stronger than she has in centuries. A clattering caught her eye, and she glance at the glass of water on her bedside table. The water in it was shaking slightly, as if it was reflecting her turbulent emotions. Even though Amane couldn't control it easily at will like she used to in her Deity days, it had been eons since she had any type of influence over water. Still, Amane couldn't resist trying to get the water to spiral out of the cup but she was unsuccessful.「封印されてたんじゃないの？」I thought that they were sealed away?
「天音、よく聞け。今から神の会議が行われる。寝てたんだろ？とりあえず着替えて。ジェーナスが多分扉を出すから、今からアズガードにくるんだ。俺も行くから、そこで会おうな？パニクルなよ、大丈夫だから。」Amane, listen to me. The gods are holding a summit now. You were asleep, weren't you? Get dressed. Janus is probably going to open up a door for you to go to Asgard. I'll be there too, I'll see you there. Don't panic, everything is going to be fine. Amane's joy for Daichi stepping up nearly coaxed a smile out of her, but the situation was rather dire. After promising to see him very soon, she hung up the phone and jumped out of bed. She rushed to her closet and grabbed at random clothing and pulled it on. Thankfully, Daichi had already explained the situation to her--he was probably already in Asgard so Amane wouldn't be caught completely off guard. She nervously combed her fingers through her hair until the promised door finally appeared.
Amane flew to the door, but hesitated. Her hands were trembling slightly. She was scared. Very scared. She took a deep breath to hopefully calm her shaking body before pushing through the door boldly.
She almost immediately shrank back.
It was intimidating to see all of the gods from various pantheons gathered into one place. There were only a handful of gods that Amane had kept in touch with once they had all come to their agreement, and there was an ominous air on top of that. Odin gathered the most attention.
Fortunately for Amane, her amiability virtue got most people to like her. It was a bit inappropriate for a smile, but she straightened her posture and took purposeful steps to sit next to Daichi. Even though he was a goofball, she always felt better around him. She grabbed his hand and squeezed it before folding her hands on her lap. Fortunately, it doesn't seem like she missed too much.
Amane was content to simply wait for now, and maybe steal a few glances at everyone else.
|
Water Goddess of Fortune, Fine Arts and Learning
Basic Profile
|Name|
Benzaiten
|Alias(es)|
Her name was often shortened to Benten back in her godly years.
In Hinduism--where she originated from--she was known as Sarasvatī.
Amane Mikami--pronounced AH-mah-nay ME-kah-me
|Gender|
Female
|Sexuality|
Pansexual
|Pantheon/Faith|
Shinto and Buddhism. Originated from Hinduism
|Occupation|
A music teacher
Appearance
|Godly Appearance|
Benzaiten has been known to take many different forms. Her humanoid form is very similar to her current mortal one--a dark-haired beauty with two arms, often holding a musical instrument, usually a biwa. At times she can be of a monstrous size with 8 arms, each hand holding a different weapon. She's also been seen as a large three-headed snake.
In her humanoid form, she's usually clothed in an intricate kimono with a floating scarf hovering around her. There's always a jewel adorning her robes that can grants wishes. Her humanoid form is the reflection of traditional Japanese beauty; pale white skin, deep brown eyes and extremely long jet black hair.
She's closely associated to dragons and snakes due to her ability to embody a three headed snake. However, she's also accompanied by turtles, dragons and white foxes as well.
|Earthly Appearance|
Benzaiten's earthly appearance is of a pretty, young Japanese lady. She has experimented with multiple haircuts over the years before settling with her long hair that she has today. Rather than the jet-black hair she sported in her humanoid goddess appearance, Benzaiten opted for a dark brown color. She's happy with her hair at the moment, but she's still considering another chop. She has round brown eyes with warmth residing within them. She stands at a height of 5'4, and her physique is a rather average build.
Even though she still enjoys the occasional traditional clothing, she's finding a lot more freedom and joy in finding more casual clothes to wear. Kimonos are great and pretty and make her feel powerful and all, but shorts man. They're so much more practical. Benzaiten enjoys dressing up in standard clothing now, owning a vast wardrobe to accommodate all of her clothing needs and desires.
Who Am I?
|Personality|
Benzaiten embodies the virtue of amiability, so it only makes sense that it's part of who she is. Benzaiten is someone who exudes friendliness. There's always a warm smile upon her face, and she's the first person to go up and introduce herself to a complete stranger. She's gentle and kind to anyone she meets. True to her Japanese values, she's extremely humble and polite. Benzaiten is optimistic in any situation. She firmly believes that there's a silver lining in every cloud.
Due to being a goddess of learning, Benzaiten is very knowledgeable about many subjects. She teaches music, but her intellect spans many subjects and topics. She loves to learn about everything, and it gives her a lot of joy to see other people learning--it's why she's a teacher. Her other passion lies in the fine arts, another field that she was in charge of as a goddess. Music, poetry and art... They're all activities that she loves to engage in. In her spare time, she's often found reading, playing music, writing poetry, or sketching.
However, no person is perfect; even for a goddess such as herself. Benzaiten was one of the most famous, revered and popular goddesses in Japan. As a result, she's extremely prideful. Despite humbling herself in front of others, Benzaiten is extremely prideful and holds what she does in high regard. She doesn't take very well to being told what she's doing is wrong, and doesn't like reaching out for help. She does hide this extremely well though. Most people probably won't pick up on it because of her constant humbling. Inwardly, she's grinding her teeth and seething with words that she doesn't say out loud.
|Family|
Daichi Mikami - Benzaiten's younger brother. He's also a god that gave up his powers. Formerly, he was the Japanese God of the Underworld, known as Enma Daiō. Currently, he's enjoying the mortal life and exploring all of the guilty pleasures such as gambling, flirting, partying, etc. Fortunately, Amane has been keeping a keen eye on him, reminding him to not damn himself into hell. That would be awkward, indeed.
|Strengths|
Kind
Smart and knowledgeable
Confident
A natural mediator
Talented in the fine arts
|Weaknesses|
Prideful
Stubborn
Doesn't ask for help
Extremely high expectations for herself and everyone
Slightly arrogant
|Likes|
Music
Art
Poetry
Swimming
Traditional tea sweets
Rain
Green tea
Teaching
|Dislikes
Droughts
Her brother getting himself into trouble
Nuts
Rap music
Overly sweet foods
|History|
Back in her immortal days, Benzaiten was known for being in charge of a lot of fields. She was the patroness of the arts, the river and water goddess, one of the 7 gods for good fortune and luck, and also a Goddess of Agriculture. Using her water, Benzaiten would often prevent droughts by bestowing rain to crops, guaranteeing a bountiful harvest. She was the muse for music, poetry and artwork, she has been the subject of many famous works of fine art.
Benzaiten had a lot of work, but she was happy. She was glad to provide service and blessings upon her worshipers. For centuries, Benzaiten was a benevolent protector of the Japanese. She was confident that this system would continue on into the future.
But it didn't.
When the gods agreed to give up their powers and godly status, Benzaiten was torn. She didn't want to bring further harm onto the human race, but being a goddess was also how she served and protected everyone. What would happen if she was gone? Eventually, Benzaiten came to the agreement to give up her powers. She really did want the best for everyone, after all.
After she became a human, Benzaiten found more time to pursue her personal passions and explore her hobbies. She went through a few jobs, including a musician, a poet, an artist, a landlady, a cashier, a bookstore employee... Basically she tried her hand at a lot of things before finally discovering that she wanted to be a teacher. Of course, she couldn't just magic herself a degree and license, so she went to college and everything--which was a very strange experience. She finally settled on her job as a music teacher.
Besides that, throughout the course of history Benzaiten was content to lay low. For the most part, she followed trends for women during that time period, never doing anything particularly notable or revolutionary.
In terms of her personal life, Benzaiten has made a lot of new friends as her persona of Amane. She's engaged in some romances, but none of them have stuck. Mostly, she just makes sure that her brother doesn't do anything too crazy as she socializes and works. She's living a pretty normal life for a human, surprisingly.
|Opinion on Mortals|
Benzaiten has always been fond of mortals. Not only did they honor, respect and love her in many ways, she finds them fascinating. Despite being a wise goddess of learning, Benzaiten found that they were not only learning from her. She was learning from them as well. She would often be surprised by them.
|Theme Song|
Song – Artist
”A few lyrics here, please.”
Mortal vs. Immortal
|Mortal Skills/Abilities|
A lot of Benzaiten's immortal skills carried over in some way as a mortal. Representing the virtue of amiability, Benzaiten's friendliness is a bit more potent than a normal human's. There's just something about her charm and friendly nature that will gather people towards her and grab their attention that is bit unnatural.
While she's definitely not omniscient in any way, Benzaiten has the ability to hold vast quantities of information in her brain. She's also very quick at learning something.
Being one of the 7 fortune gods, Benzaiten is incredibly lucky. She's been blessed with a lot of luck in her life, and through the use of omajinai or good luck charms, she's able to bestow luck onto others in very very very limited quantities. Then again, it might be placebo. Who knows if it actually works? But if Benzaiten tells you to throw sand at your feet or something, try doing as she says. What have you got to lose? You just might get lucky.
Finally, her musical, artistic and poetic ways are also enhanced by her status as a former god. When she plays music, people listening to it are drawn in and entranced by it. Her artwork seems to beckon towards people and her poetry makes people feel things. She can captivate people with her skills, and pull them in emotionally.
|Immortal Skills/Abilities|
As the Japanese goddess of water and rivers, Benzaiten will be able to regain her ability of water manipulation. Also relating to that, she will be able to use a limited variation on storm manipulation although it's limited to rain only. Due to her heavy association with water, Benzaiten will be able to summon sea creatures and understand their thoughts in an almost telepathic way.
She also has a jewel that grants wishes. It doesn't work anymore, but Benzaiten has kept it safely tucked away. When she regains her powers, the jewel will as well, little by little. At first it'll only be able to grant extremely insignificant wishes, such as "I hope it rains tomorrow" or "I wish I had a lemon slice with my tea". Even then, both Benzaiten and the jewel are very particular about the wishes it grants; even as they both gain power, they are unlikely to grant just any wish.
Benzaiten's luck bestowal will be more concrete and clear as well. She'll be able to bestow luck upon people to make them a little bit luckier. She's very selective and picky about this though, so it doesn't happen very often.
|Favorite Myths|
Percy Jackson and the Olympians
Calypso and Odysseus
Narcissus and Echo
King Midas
Pandora's Box
幸福、水、富、親しみ、音楽、美術と詩の女神様
プロフィール
|名前|
弁才天、あるいは弁財天
|他の名前|
彼女は女神だった時代に弁天とも呼ばれていた。
水神天音
|性別|
女
|セクシュアリティ|
パンセクシャル
|宗教|
神道、仏教
|職業|
音楽の先生
見た目
|神の姿|
弁才天はいろいろな姿がある。
人間型の姿は黒髪の美しい女性でよく手に琵琶を持ってる。たまにはもっと神様らしい巨大な姿を現し、八つの腕にはそれぞれ違う武器を持つときもある。ほかには頭が三つある大蛇にも変身することもある。
彼女は大蛇の姿のおかげでよく蛇や龍と連想される。しかしそれらだけではなく、亀と白い狐と一緒によくいる。
|人の姿|
弁才天の人の姿はかわいい、若い日本人の女性。人間の人生を歩み始めたときから嬉しそうに髪型をいっぱい変えた結果、今の長い髪の毛になった。女神の姿のときは日本の美しい黒髪だったが、今は濃い茶色の髪の毛。今の髪の毛に満足しているが、また切ろうかな？と考えているらしい。彼女の眼は真ん丸で優しい茶色。162cmで、体型は割と普通。
着物などを着ているけど、もっとカジュアルな服を最近好んでる。着物はきれいで好きだけど、半ズボンの方がとにかく楽！弁才天はふつうの洋服を着るのが大好きで、クローゼットにもいっぱい色んな服を揃えている。
|性格|
親しみの女神でもあるから、弁才天はとても親しみやすい人です。とてもフレンドリーで、いつも笑顔でいる。誰かが一人でいると弁才天はその人に話しかけるタイプの人である。誰にでも優しくて、どんなときにも明るい。どんな暗闇の中にも光はどこかにあると信じている。日本人の文化にしたがって、彼女はとても謙虚でもある。
学習の女神なので、弁才天は雑学や知識が幅広い。音楽の先生だが、知識は音楽だけではなく、いろんなことを頭に入れている。学ぶことが大好きで、他の人が何かを習得するのを見るのが大好き。だから先生になった。音楽、詩、美術の女神だったのでそれも今は趣味になった。
完璧な人は存在しない。それは女神である弁才天でも違わない。彼女は日本の中でも有名で人気を集めていた。そのせいで弁才天はとてもプライドが高い人になった。人の周りではとても謙虚なのに、実はプライドをなかなか手放せない。他の人にダメ出しとか言われるのは嫌いで、助けを求めるのがとても苦手。しかし謙虚さがあるので他の人からプライドの高さは察知されていません。
|家族|
水神大地 - 弁才天の弟。彼は閻魔大王、地獄の神様だった。今は人間の生活を楽しんでおり、ギャンブル、お酒、パーティーなどを行っている。天音はちゃんと大地のことを見守って
注意している。閻魔大王が地獄に行ったら冗談にならない。
|特徴|
優しい
頭が良くて、いろんなことを知っている
自信がある
ムードメーカー
美術、音楽と詩が得意
|弱さ|
プライドが高い
頑固
助けを求めない
自分と周りの人に期待しすぎている
割と誇り高い
|好きなもの|
音楽
美術
詩
水泳
お茶菓子
雨
緑茶
先生になること
|苦手なもの
干ばつ
弟がトラブルに巻き込まれること
ナッツ
ラップ
必要以上に甘い食べ物
|由来|
女神だった時代には、色んなものを任されていた。弁才天は美術、音楽、詩の神で七福神の一人でもあり、農業の神でもあった。お水を使い、畑に雨をかけて収穫を増やしていてた。
弁才天は神様としていろんな仕事があり、とても忙しかった。しかし、その仕事が大好きで毎日が楽しくて満足していた。何百年も日本人の守り主であり、これからも末永くそれが続くと信じていた。
しかし、その願いは実らなかった。
神たちが神をやめようといわれたときには弁才天は本当に悩んだ。これ以上破壊を呼びたくない。でも女神として人間を守るために毎日努力していた。その努力が無くなったらどうなるのだろう？いっぱい悩んだ後、弁才天はやっと神を引退した。彼女を心の底から人間たちの繁栄を願っていたから。
人間になってから弁才天は自分の趣味を見つけ出す時間を手に入れた。何回も転職し、とにかく色んなものを試した。だんだんに先生になりたい、いろんな人と知識を共有したいという思いを胸に持ち、大学に入学した。今は音楽の先生をし、満足している。
何百年も生きている弁才天は得に歴史に残るようなことをしていない。その時代に女性はなにをしていたのに従い、ふつうの生活を何回も送っていた。
弁才天は天音としていろんな友達が出来ている。何人かと付き合ったりもしたが、得に長続きしなかった。大体は弟の世話をしながら仕事もし、友達と遊んだりもしている。以外にほんとにどこにでもあるようなごく普通の生活を送っている。
|人間の感想|
弁才天は昔から人間たちを気に入っていた。人間たちはもちろん、弁才天が大好きでしたが理由はそれだけではない。人間は面白い！学習の神なのに、人間たちを教えていただけではないのだ。彼女も人間からいろいろ学んでいた。人間たちの行動によくびっくりしていたことも確かだ。
|テーマソング|
曲名 － 歌手
「ここに歌詞を入れる」
人間対神
|人間としてのスキル|
弁才天の神技は割とすんなりに人間の天音に移っていた。親しみの神だからその親しみが人間としても身について、普通の人よりも人気を集めている。彼女の魅力は誰にでも伝わって、普通の人間とは思えない程愛される。
全知全能まではいかないが、弁才天は様々な知識を頭に入れられる。覚えもとても早い。
七福神の一人でもあるから弁才天はとても運がよい。おまじないを通じて他の人にも良い運を送ることができる。本当に効くのだろうか？もしかしてプラシーボかも。でもいいじゃん！弁才天に「足に砂を投げるといいことがあるよ」と言われたらやってみれば？悪いことは起こらないし、もしかしたらラッキーになるかも。
最後に、彼女の詩、音楽と美術は神様のスキルがちょっと入っている。音楽を演奏するとそれを聞く人たちの心を掴むことが出きる。詩も美術も同様に人々の心に囁くことができる。
|神としてのスキル|
日本の川と水の神であるから、弁才天は水を操ることができるようになる。それに似て、少しだけ天気も操ることが出来る。雨だけだが。水の生き物と心を通じ合う事もできる。
弁才天は願いを叶える宝石を持っている。今は使えないけれど、弁才天は大切にしまっている。彼女がどんどん強くなっていくと、宝石も強くなる。最初は本当に小さな願いしか叶えることしかできない。例えば「明日天気になーれ」や「紅茶にレモン一切れがほしいなー」など。弁才天と宝石はなんでも願いを叶えるわけではないので、なかなか願いを叶えない。
弁才天の運の良さは上がる。他の人にも運もちゃんとおまじないだけじゃない方法で分けることもできるようになる。また、誰にでも運を分けるわけではない。
J A N U S
J A M E S A L F E R O
"His Japanese could use a little work, but otherwise he's absolutely lovely."
R Y U J I N
U M I K O R Y U D O
"She's one of the few people I've kept in touch with from our pantheon ever since we relinquished our godhood."
A P H R O D I T E
E L L E N D O V E
"I was considered a goddess of beauty back in Japan, but... wow."
H A D E S
H A D R I A N P R Y D E
"He comes around often to visit my brother--but he's usually gone. So we ended up becoming friends as well."
B A S T E T
S A B L E A L M A S I
" "
H U I T Z I L O P O C H T L I
H E W I T T D A N F O R D
" "
A N U B I S
A N D R E W J A C K L E Y
" "
J O R M U N G A N D
J O R D A N N A T T E R
" "
M A X I M O N
S A N S I M O N
" "
P E R S E P H O N E
K O R A B L A C K
" "
N E M E S I S
J U N E F A L L O N
" "
T H E M O R R I G A N
R E G A N M A C G U I R E
" "
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Interacting with: No one in particularLocation: Los Angeles -> Asgard
Today was Mythology day in school, and the kids got the ask anything they wanted about any form of mythology they wanted. Heidi was pretty sure that the most popular ones would no doubt be the Greek and Norse ones, and was already fully prepared for questions of any sort the young kiddos could ask. These were young, inquisitive and overly curious minds, and it was her job as a teacher to enrich them and supplement their learning. Freyja, a teacher. Not just any teacher as well, an elementary school teacher. Who would have thought. Well, she did love children after all, but she loved adult men as well, albeit in a different way. Ever since she made the transition to Heidi, the Norse goddess has toned down a considerably lot, and was no longer as flirtatious as before. Dressed in a peach-coloured button up shirt, and a white pencil skirt, she made her to class.
With class well under way, Jack, one of her nine year olds, asked her a question. "Ms Olsen! Aren't you from Norway? Do you have any stories to share on Norse Mythology? What happens to the people who die in Norse Mythology?" The barrage of questions came suddenly, but Heidi was well-prepared for it. These kids were young and curious, and more often than not simply said what were on their mins without restrain. She answered the boy with a warm smile. "Yes, Jack, you're right. That's where I was from. I live here, in L.A. just like you do now. What happens to people who die?" Turning around to grab a chair to place herself closer to the class, she took a seat and began telling them tales of the Norse afterlife.
"There are three main paths to Norse afterlife. All three are linked to a different god or goddess. The three are Odin, Freyja and Hel. Freyja, the goddess of Fertility, Love, War and Death had the honour of having the first pick of the slain, and as a result of that, most often called her Valfreya as she would ride together with the Valkyries into the battlefield of the dead. Those that Freyja picked would enter her heavenly fields known as Fólkvangr, where they could gain entry to her majestic hall full of delicious food and drinks and drink until after Ragnarok. What is Ragnarok you ask? I'll get to that in a moment. The second pick of the dead would go to Odin, who Valkyries would pick the slain of his choice, most noticably valiant and courageous warriors, sending them to Valhalla, where they would continue to train and feast until they were ready to face Ragnarok. The third and last pick would go to Hel. Well that isn't much of a pick really, as it was mostly the leftovers from the other two, and were usually the evil and dishonourable sort as well as those who died of diseases or natural causes. They then entered Helheim, Hel's realm full of icy cold death. It was said that this part was where the Christian "Hell" came from. Those that died of diseases and natural causes were watched over by Hel and were given a chance for rebirth. Those of evil nature were condemned forever to dwell in the icy cold realm of Helheim."
Getting to her feet, Heidi finished with a statement. "I hope that answers your question, Jack." Jack, like most of the students in the class right now, looked a little awestruck by life-live storytelling, and he simply stuttered a "Yes, Ms Olsen.." Beaming him another smile, she said, "Good." just in time for the bell to ring. Class was over, and the children emptied from the room. Heidi was packing up her things and about to leave when she felt a strong familiar sensation. Something she hadn't felt in a long time, since she had made the transition from Freyja to Heidi. A Death. A powerful one. One of this magnitude had to be a powerful god. One more powerful that she was. And there was only one that was really more powerful than her. Odin.
As she looked up, a glowing door had appeared at the back of the classroom, one that probably no one else but her could see at this moment. The kids had all left but now, and the hallway was empty for the moment. Heidi stopped through the door, and entered a familiar place she knew as Asgard. Locating the rest of the gods and goddess, she noticed that there were several of the gods and goddess from other pantheon here as well. She walked up and lay her eyes on the stone dead form of Odin. She'd been close to Odin, and used to even teach him some of her magic as well. His death was a serious matter as only some really powerful could have accomplished this. Killing a god, even one who had lost most of his powers was no joke. Heidi gave looks of extreme displeasure, at those who were taking the situation seriously, no doubt not knowing how grave the predicament they were all in right now, regardless of the pantheons.
|
|Name|
Freyja
|Alias(es)|
Valfreya
Mistress of the Slain
Heidi Olsen
|Gender|
Female
|Sexuality|
Heterosexual
|Relationship Status|
Single
|Pantheon/Faith|
Norse
|Occupation|
Elementary School Teacher
|Godly Appearance|
Freyja's appearance is one of a mythical nature. She often takes the appearance of a young blonde woman with pale ivory skin with eyes rimmed and outlined in kohl. Her long golden blonde tresses flows freely down the ornately design steel breastplate she wears on her upper torso. A leather corset follows the breastplate, covering her abdomen. A design of Nordic origins can be found engraved prominently on the steel tasset she wears at her waist. The bottom half of her outfit is a billowy skirt resembling the bottom half of a ball dress. Her legs and feet are encased in a set of steel greaves and sabatons. Depending on the situation or her mood, she may decide to wear her hands bare or in a pair of ornately designed steel bracers. Around her neck, she wears the famous necklace known as the Brísingamen. It is a indescribable piece of beauty made out of pure gold bearing one or more pieces of jewels that shone like the morning sun. The jewellery is a popular symbolisation of her brilliance and beauty.
The jewels in the necklace is special and unique to Freyja, linked personally to her, similar to how Mjölnir is uniquely linked to Thor. On her head, she wears a steel helmet ornately design in the same fashion with a pair of grey miniature wings spreading out with its sides. However, those aren't her most prominent feature. As the Goddess of Battle and Mistress of the Slain, she rode among Odin's Valkyries, sporting a set of large enveloping grey falcon wings sprouting from her back. She has a giant boar called Hildisvini which has a mass of glistening golden bristles. In the times of old, she used to ride it into battle, earning the boar the nickname, the Battle Boar. Another alternative mode of transportation is a chariot she has that is pulled by a pair of cats. A goddess can never have too many modes of transportation. The boar and cats are animals closely linked to Freyja and thus all pigs and cats are sacred to her.
|Earthly Appearance|
Standing at 5'6", Heidi's appearance is both equal parts alluring and ravishing. She is a epitome of the word beauty, definitely one would associate a goddess with. Her silky tresses are a shade of golden blonde, extending down to chest level, complimenting perfectly with her lightly-tanned complexion. Their would appear to be neat and clean, perfectly radiant, as if they were spun out of yarns of golden strands. The roots near the top of her head are significantly darker, a darker shade of chocolate brown, with similar colours for her delicately-shaped eyebrows. Her perfectly-shaped oval face comes with a strong jaw and a slightly pointed chin.
Her features are adorned with a pair of almond-shaped eyes that are a gorgeous shade of hazel green, sparkling with an intensity of serenity and determination. They are incredibly striking, and are by far her most prominent facial feature. Her thin but luscious lips rest easily on her face, ready to break into a smile at a moment's notice. Her pert nose is thin and pointed, simply adding to the list of striking features which contributes to a rather comely appearance. Her skin is smooth and unblemished, devoid of any ink or tattoos. She tends to favour a variety of blouses and skirts, with the occasional sun-dresses and smattering of pants.
They are often in pastel colours, those being her colours of choice. Her rather modest clothing is attributed to her profession as a teacher, the school ensuring that all their teachers are dressed to look presentable yet appropriately. The only types of headwears she can seen in are sunhat in the sunny seasons and a visor beanie in the snowy seasons. With her clothing restricted by her profession, Heidi tends to wear as little clothing as she can whenever alone, simply wearing an over-sized shirt over her undergarments.
|Personality|
Freyja is the goddess that women want to be be and women want to possess. She is completely comfortable in her own independence, her own ferociousness, and her own sexual power. She does not need anyone, but yet desires them all, with a shamelessness that would make a stripper blush. She is her own lady, bringer of love, fertility and mistress of battle and death. Radiant and cheerful, her smiles are ever present and entirely bewitching, especially to those of the opposite sex. One of the most powerful goddesses of the Norse pantheon, her might is similar to that of Thor and her divinity equal to Frigg, Odin's wife. A highly passionate and lustful goddess, she portrays exuberance in ample amounts, and is known for her kindness to all. Freyja loves to judge. Not be mention being picky.
After all, She gets first pick of those slain to enter her beautiful luscious field of a multitude of greens, Fólkvangr, where her majestic afterlife hall, Sessrúmnir, is located. It is that that she treats her chosen exactly like a great host should, with never-ending beverages hot and cold and mouth-watering delicacies. She can be incredibly temperamental, cynical or sarcastic when she wants to, or be on the opposite end of the spectrum, being entirely too sweet and innocent like honey when she wishes to, simply like a flick of a switch.
As a human, Heidi is a much, much subdued version of Freyja, and then some. Her lustfulness and flirtatious demeanour is toned down a considerately lot, but it is still somewhat ingrained into her human personality as well. Heidi still flirts, but no where as much as or as far as Freyja would go. Heidi also retains a set of morals and conduct that makes her quite the contrast compared to Freyja. She, however retains the same kind-heartedness and exuberance from the goddess, and is polite and gracious to boot. Warm and friendly, it is needless to say that she is very much a people person and is extremely sociable. She has a great sense of humour and can often be seen laughing at jokes cracked by other people. She is an optimist and idealistic, a firm believer of hope and positivity.
When it comes to the matters of romance, Heidi differs from Freyja quite a fair bit. The main point being the fact that she prefers to stick to a loyal partner, whereas the goddess desires all and flirts like its nobodies's business. I guess you can say that the two of them are simply two sides of a coin. She is utterly faithful, sticking to a single partner and a real sucker for romance, and it is not uncommon for her to be seen involved in doing romantic things and carrying out other acts of romance for the one she truly fancies and loves.
|Family|
Freyja has two daughters from her late husband, Óðr. Hnoss is the oldest, followed by her young sibling, Gersemi. Due to Hnoss being old Norse, upon being relegated to humans, Freyja decided to give her the name, Hilda. Being Freyja/Heidi's favourite, Gersemi tends to be the more doted upon child, often leaving her older sibling snarky and jealous of her younger sibling. Gersemi is a bubbly ball of exuberance and sunshine, very much like her mother, which could possibly be the reason she loves her so much.
Hannah
Gersemi
|Strengths|
Passionate
Kind-hearted
Intelligent
Charming
Brave
|Weaknesses|
Judgemental
Headstrong
Cynicism
Indulgent
Capricious
|Likes|
Delicious Food
Milk
Children
Chocolate/Cocoa
Spring
Pigs/Piglets
Romance
Singing
PDA
|Dislikes
Pessimists
Doom & Gloom
Bullies
Disorganisation
Liars
Cheaters
Winter
Laziness
|History|
In the tales of old, Freyja was born in Vanaheim to a Vanir god, Njörðr. He was father to both deities, Freyr and Freyja. Her father was commonly associated with the sea, seafaring, wind, fishing, wealth, and crop fertility. The world of the gods were dominated by two main groups, the Aesir and and the Vanir. When a pact was signed between the two groups and an alliance was formed, the two groups exchanged hostages, and the Vanir who came to live with the Aesir were Njörðr and his two children, Freyja and Freyr. Freyja grew up to be a stunningly beautiful goddess who rules after her heavenly afterlife field Fólkvangr in Asgard. Within Fólkvangr is her hall, Sessrúmnir, a majestic structure so wide and magnificient, rows and rows of chairs could be placed for the the host of the chosen to dine with never-ending mouth-watering delicacies and beverages. As Goddess of war and death, and Mistress of the slain, Freyja rides together with Valkyries of Odin, having her first pick of the slain, before the other half goes to Odin, the all-father in Valhalla.
It was there in Asgard, that Freyja rose to power. Freyja makes her own choices regarding sexual partners, and shares her favours freely. She eventually grew to the highest rank, second only to Frigg, Odin's wife. Odin's warriors in Valhalla was trained daily to combat the rising danger that is Ragnarok, and Freyja task was equally important. Her duty was to help and guide these warrior-spirits to help her to create life anew in the new world after the battle was done. Not only warriors were permitted though, as various women of nature were also selected by Freyja after their death to join the ever-growing host in the afterlife.
Freyja met her husband, Óðr and two of them had two lovely children. Óðr was a free-spirited individual who loved to travel and go onto adventures on Earth, and often left Freyja and their two young children alone on Asgard. When he went missing and did not return to them, she cried tears of gold, grieving for the loss of him. As a symbol of fertility, Freyja was absent from earth during the autumn and winter seasons, a departure that caused the leaves to fall and earth to wear a mourning cloak of snow.
Despite being a goddess of death, she was never once considered or seen to be a terrifying deity, for her Scandinavian believers knew her more to be one of a sexual nature. As a goddess, she was utterly promiscuous, and engaged herself in alot of affairs, and was well known for her sexual affairs. When she left Asgard, to come down to Earth after the loss of her powers, she decided to leave most of her old persona behind, especially ones of promiscuity. She took on the name of Heidi, and decided on a most faithful and loyal personality. Taking her children along with her, she started a new life, with the traits of her former personality that she loved.
|Opinion on Mortals|
"Ahh..mortals! One life ends and another begins!"
Freyja loves mortals. She treats all of them like her children, watching over them as she overseas their daily activities. She blesses the farming community with her gifts of fertility, when pleas get to her ears, and in days of long past, when wars were fought with swords and the Vikings, she would swoop down on the battlefield, resplendence in abundance, as she selected those who she felt deemed worthy to tread upon her field and halls in the afterlife. Apart from being approachable, she often took an active role in contacting those who needed her help. She was glad to be one of the few goddesses served in almost equal numbers by men and women.
|Theme Song|
If I had a heart – Fever Ray
"If I had a heart I could love you
If I had a voice I would sing
After the night when I wake up
I'll see what tomorrow brings"
|Mortal Skills/Abilities|
As a mortal, Heidi remains able in all manners of combat, and is knowledgeable in the arts of war. Highly proficient in the martial arts known as Karate, she is also no stranger to firearms. Possessing strong leadership skills, she is a natural leader. She also has green fingers, and is exceptionally good in farming and gardening. Because of her sexual nature as a goddess, she is also great in bed.
|Immortal Skills/Abilities|
As a goddess of love, fertility, war and death, Freyja is able to do a wide variety of things within those domains. To the farmers that pray and plead with her, she is able to bless their lands and crops with the gift of fertility, ensuring they get a bountiful harvest. She brings spring and summer into the lands, rain and sunshine, amidst buds and blossoms across the land. As a goddess of war and death, and the mistress of the slain, she is able to retrieve the spirits of those who die, but not of old age or disease, sending those she chooses to her own heavenly domain, away from the clutches of her fellow goddess, Hel. As the one who gets the first pick, she is allowed to be picky, and you can be damn sure she'll pick whoever she wants.
|Favorite Myth|
Thor and Mjölnir
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Location:Wolfgang's Mansion in Ireland
Interaction:Guy he kidnapped and a married woman
It was his favorite room in the house.
Walls thick as thighs and soundproof, with red paint slathered onto the walls (some parts still drying) and round suspicious holes and cracks. An assortment of tools hung on the wall, shiny and glistening under the dull yellow flickering light. Chains were suspended chaotically from the ceiling, tangled together and looping around chairs and other such innocuous items. In the middle of this room, there was a chair with a man sat in it, his legs wrapped to the legs of the chair and his arms twisted behind his back. A starchy, itchy burlap sack was shoved over his head, with string tightening it around his throat. His distant, muffled screams could be heard, expletives pouring from his mouth, only accompanied by footsteps coming down the stairs.
“Are you ready to talk yet, Mayer?” Wolfgang Reinhardt, notorious criminal extraordinaire, said as his boots thumped onto the dusty, wooden stairs. His fingerless gloved hand scooped instant macaroni and cheese into his mouth, engulfing the tines wholly in order to scrape the last bit of goopy cheese with his tongue. His other hand dangled by his side, knuckles gripping on a lavish leather wallet that most certainly wasn’t his.
Almost anticlimactically, Wolfgang’s foot slammed onto the cellar ground, dust stirring around the boot until it settles by the sole. A devilish smirk came across his face as he grasped a chair by the stairs and dragged it to be in front of the bagged man. He threw himself into the chair, slouching casually and smacking his boot onto the other man’s leg, using it as a footrest. Wolfgang inhaled the rest of the microwave meal, letting out a satisfied sigh when he was done and tossing the plastic bowl to the side.
Wolfgang smiled cockily, gesturing with his fingers vaguely between the two (despite the other man unable to see the gesture), “Why is there such awkward silence between us, Mayer? I thought we were friends - hell, I thought we were best friends considering the favors I’ve done you. Why such the cold treatment?”
Wolfgang frowned in a faux pout, his stubbly handsome face conforming perfectly. Then, as if tired of such fake charades, the expression dropped from his face, only to be replaced by a terrifying cold impassiveness that could only mean trouble. Wolfgang sat up slightly, his fingers pinching the burlap sack and ripping it from the man’s head. With the bag removed, it was easy to see the elderly man’s face with his salt-and-pepper hair and slight facial wrinkles. Blood drooled from his mouth and bruises littered his temple and cheek, purple and black in color. In his mouth was a red clothe, stifling any protests that might have been made.
Wolfgang sighed again, this time out of agitation, his eyes rolling to the side at the whole unnecessary process. “Will you tell me where my money is, Mayer?”
Mayer offered only strangled muffles, products of shouts and screams. Wolfgang slipped the red clothe from his mouth, throwing it onto the ground where dirt and hair immediately clung to it. Despite his mouth being freed, he remained silent, his eyes assessing Wolfgang while his lips held onto the secretive location, unwilling to give it up to the beast before him.
Wolfgang leant back, his spine hitting the back of the chair with a dull thud and his shoulders slumped in causality, though he felt nothing but. “I’m disappointed in you, Mayer.”
Wolfgang began to reach for the red clothe when Mayer felt his lips loosen, his mind crazed.
“Eat shit!” He hissed at Wolfgang, before propelling a droplet of his spit which landed on Wolfgang’s cheek.
Wolfgang swiped the disgusting liquid from his stubbly cheek, wiping his hand on the gag he used. Then, without warning, Wolfgang surged forward, his hand snatching Mayer’s bottom lip between his fingers and stretching it far from his gums. When it seemed he couldn’t stretch it any further, he let it go, sauntering backwards away from his victim and towards the wall that held his favorite devices. However, just as tan fingers began to glide against metallic sheens and shining points, the sound of a doorbell jolted him.
Wolfgang crossed the room, absent-mindedly stuffing the dusty gag into Mayer’s mouth, and jogged up the stairs, taking two at a time. His sons His dogs barked at the sound from their perch at the expensive couch, though they didn’t bother to get up at all. Wolfgang opened the door, only to see a woman dressed luxuriously head to toe. She smiled innocently at him, her lips curving seductively as she fixed the sun hat on her head (Wolfgang glanced into the sky curiously, only to see it cloudy and brewing up a storm).
“Hello, I’m Siobhan.” The blonde woman introduced, offering her hand to which Wolfgang shook lightly. “I called on the phone yesterday, about you training my new dog. You said to come by sometime?”
Wolfgang’s features relaxed, his mind recalling her from a week ago. “Oh, yes, of course, Mrs. Berne.” He forced a casual laugh, “I’m sorry, you caught me at a bad time. Is it possible you could come by – let’s see – next Tuesday?”
The woman seemed off-put, especially since she had come through all the trouble to come to his home, but nodded graciously anyways and gave a demure smile. “Of course, Mr. Reinhardt. I’ll see you then.”
“See you then.”
Wolfgang walked back to the door leading to the basement, eyeing his sons dogs when they quirked they scratched at the door. He distantly wondered if they were worried about the blood, but shook it off since they never acted so when others were dying in his basement. Wolfgang pried the door open and entered, expecting to have to walk down the stairs rather than down a lavish hallway.
He recognized the place as Asgard and, while walking towards the table in which other gods were sitting, Fenrir was angered by the thought that Odin dared to summon him. He took any seat that would do, barely glancing over to see Hel and his damned father, Loki. When Tyr stood at the front, Fenrir snickered at the sight of his nub, thoughts roaming back to when he swallowed the hand whole (it had a horrible taste, but the satisfaction had outweighed that). But then the news of Odin’s death was brought and Fenrir froze in confusion.
It had always been his destiny to kill Odin – it was always his ambition, the thing that kept him going on, really. And that was taken away from him. How was he supposed to feel about that? Angry, devastated, upset? Odin’s stone body was revealed with a flourish and Fenrir settled on one, single emotion: hysteria. A laugh bloomed in his chest – a real, god-given laugh – and Fenrir’s laugh began to echo around the room. His fist slammed on the table in hilarity, his chest hurting with his laughing – it came to a point in which he spilled from his seat and landed on the floor, rolling in laughter, chanting “Odin’s dead! Odin’s dead!” in between.
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|Name|
The Morrígan
|Aliases|
Regan Macguire
Phantom Queen
Great Queen
|Gender|
Female
|Sexuality|
Bisexual - prefers women
|Relationship Status|
Single
|Pantheon|
Celtic
|Occupation|
Military. She works in the Air Force as a Colonel.
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|Godly Appearance|
Somehow, through time, the Morrígan’s appearance has been convoluted in legends as that of an old hag. Conversely, when the Morrígan was in the prime of her worship, she was noted for her beauty and luminescence. Her curly locks were as black as the darkest time of night with stark pink-white belladonna intertwined with strands. The ebony tresses swing around her breasts, seemingly silky and thick. She possesses no bangs and has a middle part, her hair falls like curtains on either side of her central face. Around her main head is a silver circlet with the chains embedded with tiny rubies that shimmer in the light, in the middle of her forehead is an oval, smooth blood diamond the size of a thumb with curling silver metal stemming away from the ruby. The silver designs are attached to a second chain that hangs down to the start of the bridge of her nose, decorated heavily with small rubies and diamonds. On both sides of the blood diamond are ruby-encrusted silver crows that face away, and are attached to the chain that swoops around her head and meets in the back. To add to her ethereal beauty, the Morrígan has pale skin that seems to shimmer in the moonlight and it stretches over a narrow, oval face with a sharp jaw and flat chin. Her nose is straight and long and her lips are downturned with rich ridges and a pointed cupid’s bow. Her round eyes are black and dull and seem to radiate an apathy that put off others.
However, the weirdest part of her appearance is undoubtedly the two extra heads that are placed to form a triangular form between the three. The head on the left has black feathers of a crow donning her cheeks and forehead as well as completely black eyes and black tinted lips. The head on the right was akin to a dog with large brown eyes and a black tinted nose and lips, as well as elongated canine teeth and a harsh, prominent brow. No jewelry is placed on these two heads and they do not talk, but are noted to see everything.
The Morrígan wears a beautiful black sheath dress that fits closely to the curves of her body, but has a straight skirt with a lack of a waist. The dress is ankle length and a weird, comfortable-appearing fabric, and has a low back that shows the beginning outward curve of her spine. However, the most important part of her dress is the schiffli lace overlay, with embroidered, floppy flowers; the overlay has a high-collar that ends at the top of her neck. It is floor length, with a court train that extends far behind her, and the schiffli lace covers her exposed back as well. Over her dress, the Morrígan wears a black feather shawl that ends at the tops of her shoulders. To secure the mantle, a silver chair clasps each end together over her chest. She carries a spear in her hand usually as well as a small ax.
|Earthly Appearance|
As a 5’6” human, the Morrígan had her hair parted to the right and the left side to her ear was shaved (not a complete full shave, though), with only a little bit of stubble left. However, she tends to hide it sometimes by combing her hair to that side. Instead of the silken and sleekness of her godly tresses, the Morrígan’s hair is seen as unkempt with a slight amount of grease and tangles. Long side-swept bangs have been added, curving around her temple and rejoining her hair and what was once ebony is now a blonde color. She has a diamond-shaped head with a strong jaw and a slightly-pointed chin. Her eyes are small and a light blue color and a dabble of brown by the pupil. They are almond shaped and shrewd-looking, giving her a sly appearance like a fox or a snake. Her nose is pert and pointed, but her nostrils are rather wide, making her nose look slightly disproportionate to the rest of her face. The Morrígan has thin, twisted lips, with the right side higher up than the left, and her cupid’s bow is narrow and undefined. While she is still pale compared to others, she is certainly more tan than she was before with a light pink-peach coloration that makes her look awkward when wearing yellow or other light colors. Her skin has been inked with tattoos, as well: on her left arm is an electric eel twisting around until the head ends at her shoulder, snarling; on her right shoulder is a rabid dog, frothing at the mouth; on her right thigh is a crow perched on a branch and a skull clasped in its talons; a large willow tree starts at the bottom of her back and leans towards the left, following the outline of the edge of her back, before the trunk stops at the top of her back and the branches begin to expand towards the right of her body; a bed of belladonna, skulls, and rubies start at the top of her hip on her side and extend down to the outside of her left thigh. When in military uniform, the Morrígan makes sure to conceal her tattoos as per protocol with long sleeves or her uniform.
The Morrígan prefers a boho-grunge look, liking to wear jean shorts with leggings or tights with heeled boots. She likes her shirts baggy and her jackets baggier. Sometimes she will wear a beanie, but not always. However, when alone, she will often walk around in her undergarments with a baggy shirt. The Morrígan hates wearing too much clothes and as such will wear as little as she can get away with. She doesn’t like to wear too much jewelry or makeup, preferring only eye makeup and a bracelet or ring here and there. Despite her lack of jewelry, she loves hats of all sorts and has a collection of them in her closet.
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|Personality|
When she was a goddess, the Morrígan was often seen as a dark deity and someone to avoid. However, she showed prowess and loyalty on the battlefield as well as a harbinger for those she took pity on and warned them of their deaths. She was graceful and cold, like marble, but protective of her people, like a mother. The brunette had a strong maternal instinct and a hot-temper, but she was impulsive and quick to jump in front of the line of fire for even the lowliest human. Despite them not having the utmost faith in her, the Morrígan always placed her confidence in humanity. The Morrígan was a bit of a martyr as well, seeing sacrifice - especially her sacrifice - necessary for the greater good.
As a human, the Morrígan is a stark contrast to her goddess counterpart. Without the ability to protect those she cared for, the Morrígan became powerless and weak much like the humans she tried to shield. Not only that, but the carnage she experienced as a goddess carried over, but now she didn't have the psyche of a war deity to protect herself against the memories. As such, the Morrígan suffers from PTSD and can have flash backs when seeing violence; despite her being mentally unfit to serve, the Morrígan still insists in being in the military as it is all she knows. In order to cope with the violent things she had done and seen, the Morrígan became hedonistic and lost her self-control when it came to denying herself pleasure to drown out the bad. The Morrígan has especially taken to alcohol, accumulating quite the addiction, and an unhealthy obsession with nature noises when going to sleep. Her experience as being weak as a human has left her cynical and callous, no longer caring about the affairs of humans or the deaths of others - the only reason she still protects people is because she wants to cling to the last bit of normalcy from her last life. The Morrígan has adopted a nihilistic view on life, though she doesn't actively participate in the beliefs, she agrees that morals and such are just man-made lies, unnecessary to dwell on. She has come to believe that violence and inherit evilness is a part of human nature. When talking to others, she's crass and sarcastic, wielding words of acid, and thus comes off as uncharismatic and uncouth. She is also noted to be selfish and uncaring of others' problems. The Morrígan is able to turn on the manipulation when she needs to, and displays a cunning nature that allows her to lie and control through her teeth in order to meet her ends. In the face of hard times, the Morrígan is able to retain an objective point of view and stop emotions from clouding her judgement; however, she rarely even attempts to be objective or even attempt to fix problems.
The Morrígan is not without her good points. Despite her acerbic personality, she is rather playful and possesses a humor. She's self-indulgent and hates being serious, rather laughing and playing video games than try to stop the big bad guy. There is little that the Morrígan fears and she will face anything valiantly if needs be; in her life, she is loyal to those who are loyal to her and have earned her trust.
|Family|
Nemain: The Morrígan's older sister who loves the frenzy of war; they were close when they were deities, but after the Morrígan fell off the wagon, Nemain and her have been on bad terms
Macha: The Morrígan's younger sister who disappeared after the pantheon fell.
Badb Catha: The Morrígan's pet crow; Badb Catha is very intelligent and can even speak a few words herself; she is used partly as a delivery system as well; The Morrígan is very attached to Badb Catha and would probably kill someone if they harmed a feather on her
|Strengths|
Cunning
Brave
Loyal
Playful
Objective
|Weaknesses|
Callousness
Hedonism
Cynicism
Selfish
Alcoholism
|Likes|
Camping
Milk
Crows
Alcohol (Whiskey and Poitín in particular)
Apples
Shepherd's Pie
Barmbrack
Irish coffee
Colors: Silver and red
Sound of nature
Hammocks
|Dislikes
Sobriety
Darkness
Bears
Sweet food
Orange juice
Strong smells
Loud noises
Sight of blood
|History|
War was the only thing the Morrígan knew, as a goddess and a human. During her golden years, if she perceived the slightest threat on her worshipers or her people, she would rush head first into battle, forcing the enemy’s hand. This gathered her a bad reputation among her people as a warmonger and an evil deity – they had even fashioned an evil sorceress named Morgan Le Fey after her. It hurt her to know that they hated her, but the Morrígan believed it was her duty to her people to accept the burden of their hatred in order to protect them.
During these years of hers, the Morrígan had committed atrocious acts as well as witness them; but as a goddess, she was able to rationalize and store the information as simple bad memories – not dealing with it eventually led to her having lasting PTSD as a human. Even though the Morrígan understood the horrible things she did and didn’t want to do them anymore, she initially refused to give up her godly powers as she saw them her only purpose in life. However, her sister, Nemain, eventually convinced her to give it up.
Now a human and dealing with PTSD, the Morrígan turned to alcoholism and the military in order to cope with her new life. Several times she had been to rehab in the past years – and she remembers hitting someone with her car once and then driving away, but the memory is hazy – as well as therapy because of her emotional outbursts. But instead of dealing with it, the Morrígan forced herself to lock her memories in an emotionless part of her and numb her mind with more booze.
The Morrígan, now under the name Regan, lived a small, unassuming life – first in Ireland and then relocated to the United States where she ended up being a Colonel in the Air Force. She didn’t bother with romance, though she did engage in one night stands here and there, and she made a couple of friends at work, though they weren’t particularly close or anything. Mostly her life has been sleeping in her apartment in her underwear with a beer case next to her.
|Opinion on Mortals|
As a goddess, the Morrígan saw humans as something precious to protect, a purpose for the wars in which she created, a purpose for her.
As a human, her value of humans has dropped drastically. She sees them as inherently evil creatures that were born to kill and destroy. Though, she doesn't think highly of herself, either. She believes it is in human nature to take and destroy.
|Theme Song|
This is War – Thirty Seconds to Mars
"A warning to the people, the good and the evil
This is war
To the soldier, the civilian, the martyr, the victim
This is war
It's the moment of truth and the moment to lie
And the moment to live and the moment to die
The moment to fight, the moment to fight,
To fight, to fight, to fight”
|Favorite Myth|
Thor and Utgarda-Loki
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|Mortal Skills/Abilities|
As a human, the Morrígan still retains knowledge on militant strategy and prowess in combat. However, she has since learned how to use a gun and several martial arts. But, most importantly, the Morrígan has picked up several calming hobbies: bonsai tree cutting, art collecting, calligraphy, chess, and flower arranging. She's also quite good at mixing drinks.
|Immortal Skills/Abilities|
As a goddess of war, the Morrígan was able to instill people with fear or bravery when she saw fit, and this ability has begun to return to her.
However, abilities that she has no regained is her ability to shape shift nor her ability to see the future, control others' dreams, or act as a harbinger of death.
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"Hm. Sounds like a you problem, not a we problem."
D I S C L A I M E R: The Morrigan may or may not have been intoxicated whilst talking about her fellow deities. As such, she cannot be held liable for anything she has said
Janus → James Alfero
"What you character will say out loud about this person here"
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Hades → Hadrian Pryde
"He's my beoir deartháir - my beer brother. My best drinking buddy - wish I had stayed near him, but America has angry drunks and I love angry drunks."
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Benzaiten → Amane Mikami
"Benzaiten? That ending part sounds like satan...coincidence? I think not. But no, I do not know anybody by the name Menaiton...what? Oh, Benzaiten."
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Aphrodite → Ellen Dove
"What you character will say out loud about this person here"
Write more in depth about their relationship here.
Huitzilopochtli → Hewitt Danford
"What you character will say out loud about this person here"
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Anubis → Andrew Jackley
"What you character will say out loud about this person here"
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Jormungand → Jordan Natter
"What you character will say out loud about this person here"
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Maximón → Sebastian Morales
"What you character will say out loud about this person here"
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Persephone → Kora Black
"What you character will say out loud about this person here"
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Bastet → Sable Amasi
*uncontrollable laughter* "She's that-that" *hysterical sniggering* "that cat-lady goddess right? Oh God, I love her. Please, please, please, please, please - what was I gonna say? - oh, please, tell me that she's" *hiccuping* "all alone living with, like, four hundred cats with weird ass names like Mrs. Mewler or Captain Pancake - what the fuck does a pancake have to do with a cat?" *more laughing*
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Nemesis → June Fallon
"Anemanemansis! I fuggin' love her! She's like Christmas, but the opposite! Great taste in booze, too! Like this one time, this one time, sh-she brought me this alcohol-y thing and we, like, drank it and -" *reminiscent inebriated chuckles* "She's like Santa! But instead of presents, she brings alcohol!"
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Máni → Emmanuel Welch
"What you character will say out loud about this person here"
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Nike → Nicole Harrow
"What you character will say out loud about this person here"
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Jack Mercer
"What you character will say out loud about this person here"
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Loki → Lawrence Lafferty
"What you character will say out loud about this person here"
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Quetzalcoatl → Querido Castillo
"What you character will say out loud about this person here"
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Sleipnir → Stephen Lord
"In't he the eight-legged horse? Has he become a person now? I guess I shouldn't be too surprised - stranger things have come about from our transition. I wonder how his hair looks...Is it glossy and long? Ooh, does he look a bit like Fabio? I fucking love Fabio."
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Fenrir → Wolfgang Reinhardt
"Ha, he goes by Wolfgang now, does'e? Mm, Fenrir was a fun time. Like my own personal free whore. So I guess that just makes him a helluva booty-call."
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Hel → Helena Hansen
"A big pain in the ass. Never met anyone so anal about everything. Some alcohol could do her good, really."
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Baron Samedi → Jean-François Salomon
"What you character will say out loud about this person here"
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|Name|
Fenrir Lokison
|Alias(es)|
Wolfgang Reinhardt
Fenrisúlfr
Hróðvitnir
Vánagandr
|Gender|
Male
|Sexuality|
Bisexual
|Relationship Status|
Single
|Pantheon/Faith|
Norse
|Occupation|
High Class Dog Trainer...or at least that's what he does publicly; he's secretly a mule, smuggling contraband across borders (mostly weapons and drugs)
|Godly Appearance|
The demon wolf stands thousands of feet tall, his massive paws able to destroy trees with a swat and a single tooth longer than a man. Fenrir possesses coarse, shaggy brown and black hair that is tangled and mussed every which way. His jaw stretches to impossible lengths, his long elongated teeth connected with thick, frothy saliva. A long, squirming prehensile tongue lolls from his mouth, slobbering with a blood lust echoing in his beedy amber eyes. Miscellaneous organsims have begun to grow on his body, moss greening his teeth at the gums and mold began growing in the corners of his eyes. A huge halberd is pressed into his mouth, the point of the sword digging into a yellow, infected wound where insects and maggots crawl. The hilt of the sword is shoved into the softness of the roof of his mouth, surrounding by a black, painful bruising. Large, thick cobwebs have formed in his ears, with hundreds and thousands of spiders crawling around in their new, permanent home. Pure white bone barely peeks out from his fur, glimpses only seen through his rippling hair and seemingly bulky muscles. Spit and blood mix together, gathering in his mouth until it spills to the floor and his claws are jagged and rotting, holes eating away at the once sharp weapons. A thin stark red ribbon is wrapped tightly around his legs, tying them together, where he is forced to lay until free. The circulation has nearly been cut off by gleipnir, his ribbon-entrapment, and if anyone were to peer at the skin clinging to bone and exposed muscle beneath his fur, they would see a blue-grey hueness that rivals the dead half of Hel.
|Earthly Appearance|
Fenrir forsaked his monstrous wolf form for a more human one in order to fit into human society. He is most known for his curly hair that ends at the nape of his neck and is usually pushed back from his forehead - it tends to appear oily, no matter how much he washes it, and the grease tends to drive him crazy. He's considered handsome by most that he comes across, especially with his apathetic piercing eyes, sharp chin features with respectable cheekbones, and the perfect set of lips which are not too thick and not too thin. When amused, he has a tendency to smirk and furrow his eyebrows, causing a crease in his forehead, but adds to his enigmatic and dangerous allure. It is not so rare for him to fully laugh, and when he does, it reveals prominent two front teeth with a miniscule gap in between and a villianous-esque shape of his grin. He's of average height, standing at six feet, with a lean yet muscled body. He does have a bit of body hair on his chest and he tends to have stubble over his chin, remnants of his wolfish coat. Another example of evidence left after his fall from the Demon Wolf, is a scar on his tongue as well as slightly cracked nails. He has a tattoo on his shoulder, featuring a wolf staring at the viewer through the tears in his bicep flesh; one half of the wolves is white, and the other is black - the two wolves represent his two sons, Skoll and Hati, for which he is extremely loyal to.
When it comes to his clothes, Fenrir tends towards the badboy, "I couldn't care less" line. He enjoys wearing hoodies and leather jackets with t-shirts, sometimes with lower necklines, or plaid shirts, with simple jeans and boots. He does, however, wear his favorite brown fingerless gloves and several silver rings on his fingers. Due to having spent most of his human life in Ireland, Fenrir has an Irish accent that he is quite proud of and believes makes his prospective lovers swoon on their feet. He hates wearing heavy cologne, but will spritz a bit on here and there when he sees fit. It is often hard to tell what Fenrir is thinking, though his face isn't passive and expresses his emotions, it often appears rapidly and is hard to analyze as one emotion or the other.
|Personality|
Fenrir is incredibly hot-headed and has a tendency to destroy things when mad. His ire is easily evoked and he tends to hold a mean grudge. He especially holds a grudge towards the Nordic gods due to them locking him up – and biting off a guy’s hand isn’t enough retribution for him. He isn’t the type that goes seeking for revenge, but if an opportunity appears, he would take it in a heartbeat, no matter the cost. His years of loneliness have left him bitter and perpetually angry inside, though he often hides it with a laidback attitude and snarky comments. Because of his harsh treatment, Fenrir can often be apathetically cruel and ruthless – he will do anything in order to get what he wants, being rather determined, and he is exceptionally petty. From his outermost layer to his innermost core, Fenrir is a criminal – if there’s a law about it, he most likely committed it (excluding bestiality and incest; though he has tried cannibalism, but it wasn’t quite his thing) – and rather lacks any morals. Not only is he a criminal, he is a heartbreaker as well; Fenrir has problems with commitment, whether it’s his fear of being betrayed once again, or his preference to not being tied down figuratively like he was once physically, is unknown. Though he does quite like sex and happens to have one-night stands habitually and constantly. His flirtatiousness and bad boy charm makes it relatively easy for him, too. Guys and girls just can’t resist him, it seems. Despite his rather strained relationship with his father, Fenrir is family-oriented and tries his best to protect them to the best of his ability, even if it means staying away as to not involve them in his criminal activity. However, though he’s extremely loyal to them, Fenrir does value himself overall and might use them here and there if he sees no other way around it. He doesn’t believe in heroics, but he does believe in sacrifice in order to protect your children, and Fenrir would do anything for his two sons, even if it means standing idly by as they live their immortal lives as common mutts.
Fenrir is unbelievably curious and believes in trying everything once. As such, he is rather adventurous and has an exhilarating, living-on-the-edge lifestyle that often attracts others to him – though not for a very long time, as if he stays with them, they typically leave him after a couple of weeks due to the recklessness that comes along with it. When with his current special someone, Fenrir has the ability to make them feel special, like precious diamonds, and like no other person in the world. Whether it’s from his carefully chosen compliments or his abandonment of his common bed-rule, people flock to him if only to have that above-the-world feeling. Though he sleeps around a lot, he would never treat his lover wrong, and is quite the gentleman and romantic; he always treats week-longs with nice, expensive dinners and one-nights with sweet candles and rose petals.
|Family|
Hati - Fenrir's eldest son. He chased after the moon god, Mani, for most of his life; whenever he almost caught him, the Shinto moon god cut off his left hand. When it was time to give up their powers, Hati chose to remain as a wolf and Fenrir now takes care of him as his wolfdog. Because he is a regular dog rather than a god, he doesn't remember his life as a god or he doesn't possess the high order thinking that he had before.
Skoll - Skoll is Fenrir's second son. He used to chase Sol until Fenrir supposedly ate her; when it was time to give up their godly abilities, Skoll chose to remain as a canine to be with his brother and protect him now that he was missing a limb. Because he is a wolfdog now, Fenrir takes care of him at his house and pretends that he is his pet when mortal are around. Due to his lack of high order thinking, he doesn't remember his life as a dog which, in turn, has a horrible effect on Fenrir, who is distraught at seeing his sons like common mutts.
Loki - Fenrir's father. Fenrir is angry with his father and claims to hate him passionately because he never did anything to save him whenever he was tied up. However, he doesn't want to confront his father in fear of disrupting and breaking the family, and so he tends to avoid Loki and, when he does meet him, keep the interaction brief.
Sleipnir - Fenrir's older brother. Fenrir and him have a slightly tense, neutral relationship due to Sleipnir being the personal pet of Odin. Fenrir believes that it was degrading and is disgusting that Sleipnir subjected himself to such things. However, Fenrir doesn't typically voice this opinion unless he is incredibly mad at or frustrated with Sleipnir. Not only this, but his allegiance - whether it be reluctant or not - to Odin enrages Fenrir because of Odin's destruction of the family.
Hel - Fenrir's older sister. They do not typically talk as Fenrir's afraid of getting her and her family involved in his criminal activities. However, his worries typically don't stop him from coming to visit her whenever he needs something (working at a funeral home makes it convenient for her to hide bodies for him) and her loyalty to the family usually resolves in her reluctantly doing it.
Jormungand - Fenrir's older brother. They're on fine terms, visiting each other here and then - he's an underwater photographer now. Jormungand sort of knows that Fenrir is up to something, as Fenrir isn't exactly trying to hide it, but he rather his brother not know the specifics
|Strengths|
Sensuality and romanticism
Adventurous
Loyal
Charming
Family-oriented
|Weaknesses|
Immoral
Hot-headed
Reckless
Commitment issues
Cruel
|Likes|
Dogs
Peanut Butter
Boxing and martial arts
Traveling
Southern Sweet Tea
|Dislikes
Cats
Strong smells
Coffee
Dark Chocolate
Staying still
|History|
Fenrir was born to Loki and the giantess Angrboda. However, when he was just a boy, Odin received a prophecy that Fenrir would kill him in Ragnarok. Not wanting to die, Odin confined Fenrir into a cell in Asgard, where he was kept from the light of day. The only person willing to feed him was Tyr, who pitied the wolf, and during the time, Fenrir even began to trust Tyr. However, Fenrir was growing too fast too quickly and Odin decided that he could no longer keep him in Asgard. They brought him to the forest in which they tested out many chains in order to hold him – Tyr lied to Fenrir, telling him it was a testament of his strength, and because he was his friend, Fenrir believed him. Every chain they brought to him, Fenrir broke, until Odin called to the dwarfs and asked them to make him a chain strong enough to hold Fenrir. The dwarfs made a small ribbon out of impossible ingredients (the sound of a cat’s footsteps, the beard of a woman, the roots of stones, the breath of a fish, the spittle of a bird) and thus would be impossible to break. Fenrir became suspicious when Tyr presented him with the small, light Gleipnir, as it has been named, and suspected that Tyr was betraying him. So, he declared that the only way that he would place Gleipnir on his wrists was if one of the gods placed his hand in Fenrir’s mouth as a sign of good faith. No one agreed, knowing that they would lose their hands, until Tyr finally volunteered his hand. He placed it between the jaws of Fenrir (who was only the size of a horse at that moment) as they bound Fenrir’s legs together, making it nearly impossible for him to stand. Fenrir tried with all his might to break Gleipnir, but he couldn’t, and when he ordered Tyr to release him and he refused, Fenrir ripped Tyr’s hand off, swallowing the hand so it could never be reattached. Tyr was rushed away and to the goddess of healing, and he never returned to see Fenrir again. Out of anger, the gods placed a sword in his mouth, forcing his jaw to stretch impossibly and his tongue to forever be cut. And then they left him to rot.
Fenrir lived centuries alone in the forest, and only received food when the gods were feeling particularly giving (and when they were they were feeling even more so charitable, they came to bring a bigger and sharper sword to place in his mouth). Lonely, Fenrir became bitter with the gods – and especially his father, who he had expected to come save him. To make matters worse, Fenrir was still growing – soon, Gleipnir began to cut off his circulation, and mold and moss began to grow on him. The open cut on his tongue became infested and infected and the roof of his mouth horribly bruised, perhaps even with some internal bleeding. He was in pain constantly, and many times he wished he could have killed himself, but there was no possible way that he could have. He felt betrayed by everybody he loved – no one was coming to save him. Why weren’t they coming to save him? - and anger possessed his being, boiling inside of him.
When he was finally able to break Gleipnir, Fenrir was in a delirious state. He killed everything he saw – carnage of animals appeared left and right – and, unfortunately, his eyes laid on Sol. He attacked her in a feverish rampage and almost even attacked his son, though he was finally able to snap out of it. When he did snap out, Sol was gone – maybe she fell. He couldn’t remember any of the events that had transpired, but when his son told him that he had killed the Sun goddess, he couldn’t find himself to particularly care. Instead, he left, going searching for Odin. However, when he arrived, he found himself out matched. Before Odin dealt the killing blow, Sleipnir stepped in and stopped Odin. Fenrir has been angry at Sleipnir for stopping Odin, wishing that Odin would have just killed him right then and there, believing that there could only be Odin or Fenrir.
When it came time to give up his powers, Fenrir was reluctant to give away his powers, but ultimately decided to do so in order to start anew. When his sons decided to remain as sons, Fenrir was heartbroken and distraught at having to see his sons as mindless beasts, but he ultimately promised them he would take care of them with the best of his abilities. Living as a mortal came naturally to him – he started out as a hunter, and even had jobs such as being a boxer and a martial artist, but throughout his life on earth, he had always been a criminal. He lived mostly in Ireland, but he hated settling in one place, and would often move to a bunch of other places; he is currently residing in Ireland again and is a dog trainer on the side of his criminal business.
|Opinion on Mortals|
Fenrir adores mortals - he finds them refreshing and honest, hardworking, good people. He loves their presence, especially over the gods, and finds living the life of a mortal as exhilarating. He believes in the capabilities of mortals and of the mortal world and supports their endeavors. However, he would never sacrifice his life for them.
|Theme Song|
Novocaine – Fall Out Boy
"This is a black, black ski mask song
So put all of your anger on
In the truly gruesome do we trust
I will always land on you like a sucker punch
Singing I am your worst, I am your worst nightmare
I am your worst, I am your worst nightmare
If you knew, knew what the bluebirds sang at you,
You would never sing along
Cast them out cause this is our culture
These new flocks are nothing but vultures
Because they took our love and they filled it up
Filled it up with Novocaine and now I’m just numb
Now I’m just numb
And don't mind me, I’m just a son of a gun
So don’t stop, don’t stop until your heart goes numb
Now I’m just numb
I don’t feel a thing for you”
|Favorite Myth|
Thor crossdressing to get Mjolnir back
|Mortal Skills/Abilities|
Now living as a mortal, Fenrir only has a residue of his heightened senses left and a little bit of tracking knowledge. Even now, though, his senses can't even rival that of a dog and his hunting might even be worst than normal human hunters. Despite this, though, he has become an amazing liar and can track down any human through technological means as well as an expert gunman and collector, with an added bartering skill. He can cook a mean meal, too.
|Immortal Skills/Abilities|
As an oversized wolf, Fenrir had ungodly strength, able to crush bones with a simple press of his nail, and destroy mountains with a simple pounce. The only thing that could hold him down was Gleipnir, a ribbon fashioned by the dwarfs out of six nearly impossible ingredients. His senses were heightened to the point in which he could see smells and taste scents; every person that he came across, he would instantly memorize their smell forever and could find them, no matter where they went. He was an excellent tracker and hunter and loved the thrill of the hunt. His speed was hilariously fast for such an ginormous thing - though he was nowhere as fast as other gods, he could give normal, or even abnormal wolves, a run for their money.
|Name|
Hel Lokisdottir
|Alias(es)|
Helena Hansen
|Gender|
Female
|Sexuality|
Demisexual
|Relationship Status|
Married, in the process of divorcing
|Pantheon/Faith|
Norse
|Occupation|
Owner of Hansen's Funeral Home as well as head funeral director there
|Godly Appearance|
As the goddess of the underworld, Hel was most known for her coldness. Not a cold personality, but a cold appearance of gaunt beauty withering away. The only thing that softened her weary appearance was her attractive smile. While it wasn't the most wide, it was a subtle, graceful smile that had a way of making eyes look soulful and empathetic. Her hair was the next more notable; it was a thick nest of flouncing, glossy brown curls that fell to her waist. She usually kept it twisted into a half-updo with stray curls framing her face; long, diamond-encrusted barrettes followed the length and curve of the semi-French braided locks. Hel was tall and slim, with not much curves to boast for, but a quiet, commanding elegance that brought attention to her whenever she walked in. Her skin was a sickly white, with every dip and nook enhanced with prominent shadows, making her face appear gaunt and deprived. Her eyes were a light, sky blue, that seemed to have such a profound depth that one could swim in them. Hel's makeup was kept simple: a dark red lipstick applied aptly to every curve of her lips, enhancing the thickness; her eyes were shadowed with brown and thick, black eyelashes made her small eyes appear bigger. However, this wasn't what disgusted her patrons or fellow gods and made her a pariah to be avoided. Half of her body was composed of dying, stretching skin with thick, post-mortem wrinkles. The lid of her eye was missing and the full, glassy white orb could be seen portruding from the round eye socket. Her arm was skeletal and skinny, mere flesh clinging to bone with no muscle in between and blue veins pulsed visibly up and down her arm.
To distract from her ugly half, Hel often wore an Empire, layered dress that was floor length and accentuated her graceful, slim body. The sleeves were connected to the dress, as if to appear as a shawl, with a slit from her underarm all the way down; the sleeves fell into the length of the dress. The boat neck emphasized her height and the thinness of her neck. The most impressive aspect of her peach-tan dress was the sown-in diamonds that clustered around the top gradually lessening as they travelled downwards; pure gold lace was embroidered in streaming lines to add depth to the dress. Hel hated to wear shoes, and instead wore lacy embroidery on her feet, secured with silk ribbons.
|Earthly Appearance|
Living as a goddess, Hel was known for her ugliness which has left her very insecure. Now, as a mortal, the dead half of her body had been removed in order for her to blend more into the world. But that wasn’t enough for her – Hel has gone under much plastic surgery in order to appear as beautiful as she is now. She has gotten surgery on her eyes, to make them appear wider, as well as a nose job to look more refined. Her lips have mostly been untouched, though she has gotten a chin implant to make her face look more feminine that it was previously. She has received liposuction multiple times and has work done on her breasts – though she will never admit it – to make them appear more full (not so much big, but round). She had plans to get rid of the bags that appear under her eyes a lot, but unfortunately had to cancel in order to finish some business with Fenrir. She cut her once long hair and uses a lot of hair products in order to keep it flouncy and alive rather than flat and she gets a perm every now and then due to it not maintaining the beautiful curls it had when she was a goddess. She typically spends hundreds of dollars at the spa every Sunday while her kids are at the babysitter’s.
Hel takes careful attendance to her makeup, usually placing a lot on her skin, but has become such an expert at making it appear completely natural on her body. Every morning and night she performs a skin regiment in order to make her skin silky and perfect rather than the dead and wrinkled skin she is terrified of possessing again. She wears fake eyelashes all the time and will never be caught without being made up entirely. Her choice of style can be called as sophisticated and elegant, choosing to wear clothes that seem professional and modest, but flattering and attractive. Hel only wears clothes and makeup healthy for the skin and always takes care of her body. She habitually works out in order to keep her body toned and she is on a strict diet – she only allows herself to eat chocolate every now and then. She does not drink at all because of the damage it does to liver and because she doesn’t want to look prematurely aged. She avoids medication as much as she can, too, because she doesn’t want any bad side effects to take place physically – though she does take vitamins. Hel has a hard time sleeping which would show in bags under her eyes, if she did not hide it.
|Personality|
Living as one of the, if not the, ugliest deity in the Nordic pantheon, Hel has developed a severe insecurity of her appearance and a fear of becoming old and getting wrinkles (despite being immortal). It has gone so far that she has developed an addiction to plastic surgery and is obsessed with her physical image. However, her physical appearance is not her only obsession, as Hel gets obsessed easily – whether it be with a man or a song – and tends to focus on that one thing for years at a time. Currently, Hel is obsessed with the idea of a family, leading to her adopting an excessive amount of children (three) in the span of six months. Her maternal personality may also add to this obsession of hers because of her kind heart when it comes to the young and frail. But when it comes to wrongdoers and douchebags, Hel can be extremely ruthless and callous when dealing with their fate. Outwardly, Hel appears calm and collected and can be eloquent and clear-headed. She seems like the perfect ruler of the underworld, objective and fair to those who cross her threshold. She believes in justice, but her idea of justice is quite skewed – she believes in the idea of an eye for an eye, a hand for a hand, a life for a life. Though she can be hypocritical considering her and her family’s misdeeds. As such, Hel can be pretentious, believing herself above the law because of her importance as a goddess and a handler of death. She can come off as aloof and detached, even when she is very much attached to the subject at hand, and she has a strict, businesslike personality.
Hel can be quite protective of her loved ones, even bordering on possessive, and gets jealous easily. She is often paranoid of her lovers, believing them to be cheating on her because of her insecurity (though she was not wrong in her husband’s case). However, her fatal flaw is her envy of other women’s things, such as riches or love, but most especially their beauty. When she is like this, or having to deal with something carefully, Hel can be manipulative and uses her cleverness to succeed (an apt example would be her deal with Frigga in order to resurrect Baldr). Nevertheless, Hel does have a sense of humor – albeit morbid and inappropriate – and can is exceptionally responsible. Hel is remarkably observant when it comes to people’s intentions, though she can be tricked when it comes to love because of her already inset paranoia, and is faithful to whoever she is currently committed to.
|Family|
Mistletoe - Hel's loyal pet owl. He is addicted to nesquik and likes to steal sponges from the neighbors.
Loki - Hel's father. She emulates her father and idolizes him because of his loyalty to the family and his mischief towards the other gods. However, she is able to admit that her father has made mistakes in his lifetime, some irreversible.
Sleipnir - Hel's older half-brother. Despite him only being her half-brother, Hel treats him just as well as she treats her other brothers. She pitied him as the mount of Odin and makes it a point of keeping Fenrir in line if there is ever a fight. Hel hasn't talked to Sleipnir in a while, having been preoccupied with her own problems.
Jormungand - Jormungand - Hel's younger brother. While she is not particularly close to him, she is extremely protective of him. She sees him as the weakest link among the family and thinks it is her duty as his older sister to protect him. Of course, in recent years, she's been rather lacking and hasn't spent too much time with him.
Fenrir - Hel's youngest brother. Hel is closest to Fenrir, though it isn't by choice. His criminal activity worries her and she has warned him to not involve her in any of it, though every now and then he'll convince her to let him hide a body in her cemetery. They have become close because of his visits every now and then.
Kent Hansen - Hel's husband. They are currently in the process of divorcing after she discovered he was cheating on her with his secretary, Miranda (a twenty-one year old blonde who flunked out of college and had a failing modelling career). Hel has been assured that she will be receiving everything because of the evidence of his adultery and she plans to rob him of everything he has, even his visiting rights of the children, if she can.
Lacy - Lacy is Hel's biological nine year old daughter, whose father is Kent Hansen. She has an obsession with origami and owls. She is very close to her mother, but not very close to her father, and her mother affectionately calls her Birdie.
Eden - Eden is Hel's adopted four month old baby girl. Ezra is her younger twin brother. Hel started the adoption process when Eden was just a couple of weeks old; however, it looked as if she wouldn't receive Eden and so she sought out a pregnant woman whose recent surrogacy plan fell through.
Ezra - Ezra is Hel's adopted four month old baby boy. He is the younger twin brother of Eden. Hel started the adoption process when Ezra was just a couple of weeks old; however, it looked as if she wouldn't receive Ezra and so she sought out a pregnant woman whose recent surrogacy plan fell through.
Oakley - Oakley is Hel's adopted month old son. When Hel was afraid that she would not be able to have Eden, Hel found Oakley's mother who was a surrogate that fell through after the couple got a divorce and she was left with the baby.
|Strengths|
Cleverness
Eloquence
Maternal instinct
Observant
Clear-headed
|Weaknesses|
Paranoid
Possesive
Obsessive
Jealous/Envious
Insecure
Inappropriately morbid humor
|Likes|
Dark chocolate
Clocks (she collects them)
Coffee
Family
Plastic surgery
Art
|Dislikes
Ugliness
Musicals
Alcohol
Smokers
Wrinkles
|History|
Not much can be said about Hel’s life. As a goddess, she was incredibly ugly, dejected, and lonely. She spent most of her time in the cold Helheim with no one to keep her company except for the souls of the dead. However, she did get her kicks every now and then when a god came to beg her to bring someone or other back to live – one of her favorite times is when Frigga came to visit for Baldr and Hel had her laugh over making a nearly impossible and ridiculous deal (she even named her owl after the whole affair). She yearned to see her family often, but she really only got visits from her father, Loki, every now and then as her brothers were pretty occupied in their own exiled life. Hel gladly gave up her life as a goddess in hopes of starting anew, with a fresh, beautiful face.
She had her first plastic surgery in 2006 and has been addicted to plastic surgery ever since; but she has pretty good doctors, and so she doesn’t worry about coming out looking like one of those failed surgery-women. She settled in France where she became a lowly mortician assistant to a man named Hector Hansen. During a Christmas Party, though, she met his multi-millionaire son who made his money off of a big company, and fell in love. They married a year or two after dating and started a life together. They even had a daughter, named Lacy, and had an adoption going through. However, their marital journey was cut short when Hel walked in on his secretary on her knees in his office. Hel could stand much, but adultery was not one of them, and so she drew up divorced papers and hired the best divorce lawyer money could buy – she plans to rob him and get full custody of her new three babies and Lacy.
|Opinion on Mortals|
She's neutral to them. She owes no allegiance to her fellow gods or to the humans. She believes that, like the deities, humans have the capability to do good and to do evil and believes that wrong is wrong, no matter if you are a god or a human. (Ironically, considering the family she comes from and the secret murdered bodies in her cemetery.)
|Theme Song|
Young and Beautiful – Lana Del Rey
"I've seen the world
Done it all
Had my cake now
Diamonds, brilliant
And Bel Air now
Hot summer nights, mid July
When you and I were forever wild
The crazy days, city lights
The way you'd play with me like a child
Will you still love me
When I'm no longer young and beautiful?
Will you still love me
When I got nothing but my aching soul?
I know you will, I know you will
I know that you will
Will you still love me when I'm no longer beautiful?”
|Favorite Myth|
Baldr and the Mistletoe
|Mortal Skills/Abilities|
The only skill that has been carried over to her everyday life is her intimate knowledge of the human anatomy. Nowadays, she makes her living putting makeup on dead people - quite well, mind you - and selling coffins to fragile-minded people. She's a rather good saleswoman, too. Though she has become an excellent fashionista as well as an art-collector and has apt knowledge in the history of art and fashion throughout the ages (especially because she lived through some of it).
|Immortal Skills/Abilities|
Hel will regain her ability to know how someone is going to die, though it is always subject to change depending on how they change their path in life, and she will never know when or the circumstances surrounding it.
As a death goddess, Hel always instinctively knew when someone has died and their identity. She had the ability to bring dead gods back to life, but not mortals because of their fragile bodies and psyche.
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Location: New York City -> Asgard
Interaction: A couple "coworkers" and assorted divine dropouts
Truly, Alexei had to applaud himself this time.
Rarely did he not appreciate his various exploits, but tonight's was just positively splendid. Next to his already-shirtless form, on either side, sat the male and female leads to his new show, "Always Early, Never Late", a tale detailing a young couple's fight to circumvent death after both are terminally diagnosed. Their search led them down every conventional road until they took the unconventional, ultimately ending in their demise as the forces they employ turn them against each other.
However, the forces being employed now were far more intoxicating.
His arms wrapped around both of them, themselves in various states of undress, his lips passed between one and the other. A bottle of wine, one of Alexei's finest, sat uncorked on the glass-topped, brushed aluminum coffee table, it's contents shared with three delicate glasses. All three participants tasted of the vine, succulent red staining lips ever-so-slightly. This was almost every night for him. New faces came to his New York loft, minimalist in it's design, and Alexei gave each one anything it desired, only for a night. Wine, body, soul, all were bared for those that stepped into his door. And when they left, he insured they craved more. That was his power over them. The last shred of his godhood.
The black leather couch was beginning to get uncomfortable, skin sticking to material, and Alexei pulled back from his work. His cheeks were warm and rosy, underneath the black scruff that peppered his face, and his cerulean eyes were dilated. "Now, this is merely a suggestion, but I happen to have a positively immaculate bed just down that hall that I would love to introduce you to." His head motioned to the short hall just to their left. The living room was fairly bare, save for the slender steel floor lamps that flanked the couch, a black, wooden dining table off to the right near the pristine kitchen, surrounded by six chairs, and the wall of windows that revealed the starry cityscape before them.
Marissa, squinted her verdant eyes at her director. "Sounds like quite the entertaining meeting." A mischievous grin spread onto her face. Her adorable features did wonders to hide the wild animal locked within that tiny body, and that's why Alex had given her the role. Her looks were so deceiving, and her emotion so raw, that it led to a wonderful twist at the end. Lucas, on his right, ran his free hand through his once-neat mess of brown hair. "I'd have to agree. Wouldn't want the show to stop here, would we?" His eyes locked onto Alexei's, and a playful glee fluttered in his chest. All of life's carnal pleasures, here in his humble home. Could he ask for a more perfect night?
He stood to lead the two to his chamber when it hit him. Ice slid down his spine, muscles rippling and feeling as though they were snakes crushing his body. In the back of his mind, the Dionysus part, a little hole had opened. A void. Out of that void came a feeling of undeniable dread. Once his muscles loosened, Alexei swayed, almost falling and hitting his head on the coffee table had his current lovers not caught him. He heard them, but he didn't hear them. It was just noise now, as his brain rushed to process this millennia-old information.
Well, what the bloody fuck was that?
A rot had somehow clung to his nostrils. Death. Yes, this was death, on an unprecedented scale. A big name had been wiped from existence. Could such a thing happen? Was it...?
"I'm fine loves, I'm fine..." He paused, actually feeling disappointment in such an intrusion. "Sorry to cut things short, but I do believe...something's not settling right." Alexei stumbled towards his bathroom, first door on the left down the hall, and opened it, amber light pouring out. "I'll make it up to you after the premier." A charming, irresistibly teasing smile revealed perfect teeth, slightly stained. "Think of this", he motioned to his half-naked form, "as incentive to knock it out of the park tomorrow. Door's over there, bottle's yours, have a nice night." He stepped inside, closed the door, and slid against it to the floor, waiting a few minutes to hear the awkward shuffling stop and hear his front door close.
Dionysus closed his eyes, searching for his father, Zeus. They were close enough, and of the same pantheon, that he could pick up his presence even now. It was most definitely still there, but...ah. There it was. The Norse All-Father wasn't present, and such a large figurehead was awfully hard to miss.
Alexei placed his hands on his temples. He was partially relieved, but seeing as Zeus was worse than he was, the playwright couldn't deny there wouldn't be much mourning. Now what was interesting, were two things.
1. How did the leader of a still practically immortal pantheon kick the bucket?
2. Why was this room so fucking hot?
His body had seemingly decided Alexei's mental command was inadequate and had taken to refusing to move. There was drunk, and then there was this...had he drank that much? No, only a couple glasses...
As quickly as it had come, it was gone, replaced by complete clarity. This shift occurred three more times before finally Alexei scuffled to the toilet and retched, his body unable to handle the poisons. But after wiping the saliva from his chin, Dionysus actually smiled. A certain familiar strength ran through him, only by a thread. It seemed a very specific lid had been blown off, and his power over his own inebriation was returning. A party trick, really, but also a delicious omen.
Suddenly, the bathroom door flung open, unnatural radiance and warmth washing over Alexei. He stood, stepping through into the gilded hall of Asgard with a confident stride. Yes, he was about to appear in front of dozens of gods shirtless, and he was going to enjoy every second of it. It felt good to be among peers, among the elect, once again. As he took his seat, mostly near fellow Greeks and Romans so he could tease them, Dionysus took note of the shrouded figure, Athena (gorgeously in charge, as ever), Janus (there were a couple thresholds he'd love to cross), and Tyr (He'd had to have gotten good with that one hand). Hades, Nike, Hermes, all of them were there as well as the other pantheons. Everyone was getting their own winks and grins. The situation's gravity was...lost on him, to say the least. Too much of an ecstatic rush.
As the news was delivered, the new art piece revealed, and the lockdown cast, Dionysus really sobred up. He crossed his hands on his stomach. "Athena, darling. As much as I adore your heavenly face, and really, it has been too long, is this truly necessary? Have you...maybe heard of texting? Calls? Hell, I would've accepted a carrier pigeon, if you're feeling nostalgic." He looked to Odin's dead, hollow eyes, and part of him shivered. "I do have a production to open in the morning. And, Nemesis, sweetheart," His gaze turned playful, almost menacingly so, "if anyone here has been foolish enough to involve themselves with mortals to such a degree, I do believe that's their own fault. We got far too comfortable with them, and now look what happened." The God of the Vine nodded toward Odin's ashen corpse. The Goddess of Justice had always gotten on his nerves, such a petty concept, and it truly hadn't taken much to pick her out after that outburst.
He really didn't care who was responsible, nor did he care if the heat was shifted to humanity, he had a place to be and anything went to get him out of there.
|
Dionysus
God of the Vine, Wine, Revelry, Ritual Madness, and Theatre
Basic Profile
|Name|
Alexei Monroe
|Alias(es)|
Bacchus, Alex
|Gender|
Male
|Sexuality|
Pansexual
|Relationship Status|
Single
|Pantheon/Faith|
Greco-Roman
|Occupation|
Playwright, and if the mood strikes (which, with Alexei, there's always some kind of mood) he DJs at a few clubs. A fiction novel may be on the horizon
Appearance
|Godly Appearance|
Dionysus's godly form isn't very different from that of his human form, minus the simple but luxurious relics he wears. A sash of gold-embroidered linen adorns his slim, slightly muscled torso, connecting to a belt of gold that leads into a cloak of thicker cloth covering his lower extremities, stopping just above his leather sandals . The embroidering on the cloth, and the pattern pressed onto the belt, resemble winding, shimmering vines. His chiseled, somewhat bearded face is the same, save for his eyes taking on seemingly shifting maroon hue, like his irises refuse to sit still.
His head is adorned with a wreath of vines, small leaves still bright purplish-green against his dark earthen hair. Dionysus is always seen with his opulent grail, which is never empty, and his thyrsus, a staff adorned with a pinecone wrapped in ivy. The pinecone, when he wills it, drips with honey. A simple appearance for a god, but Dionysus has always believed that there was never much stock to be put into material adornments. After all, the most fun is had when the clothes are sparse...
|Earthly Appearance|
Alexei, outside of the clubs, is a clean-cut, yet relaxed young man, appearing to be in his late 20s, early 30s. His hair, colored like fresh earth, is almost always kept in a short, slightly messy style, though he does slick it back ever so slightly for professional appearances. He's of a decent build, healthy at least, his skin has an alluring sun-kissed hue and looking into his round eyes is like looking into polished sapphires.
His dress could possibly be described as a little too young for his age, as Alex tends to wear V-neck band shirts and skinny jeans most of the time, with plain running shoes. Some days may come with a suit or other formal dress, but to him, they are atrocious. Seriously, how are you supposed to do anything in that tight-ass fabric? Although, it has it's uses...
From an appearance standpoint, Alexei is incredibly approachable. His posture is straight, powerful, but his light smirk and soft gaze is enough to make nearly anyone feel comfortable talking to him. Seeing him alone is rare, indeed.
Who Am I?
|Personality|
For Dionysus, it's never come down to nice, mean, good, or evil. He's always lived for fun. For the sheer sake of living, and recognizing that living brought with it unspeakable pleasures. He's a magnet for trouble, and boredom simply can't be found in his vocabulary. Mostly because if it's there, then he's not drunk enough, there aren't enough people, not enough unpredictability. This has led to someone that's got a tongue of silver, who will always whisper what you want to hear. And oh, by all things Divine, are his promises sweet. Sickly so, dripping with honey that's more often than not turned to thin air. Alexei does not normally commit. Whatever he says, its to illicit a reaction, to rouse an emotion, to start a riot. To follow through with such assurances would be to shackle himself to a certain outcome, and that's not something the God of Revelry is ready to do.
However, violence is not something he'll readily resort to. Alexei is diplomatic, in a politician's sense, and will talk his way out of problems far before he'll fight his way out. There is always something to say to get out of a sticky situation. That's not to say he wouldn't trick or lure someone else to do it for him, though. He treats people in much the same way, like tools or weapons, never really forming lasting bonds and moving from bed to bed. There are some he'd fight for, but they're either long gone or find better company than he. While still bitter over his descent, something in Dionysus accepts that this is reality and that his reality is a human one. And that while he is still at least mildly superior, people are things he's gotta learn.
And then, there are his plays.
These works that he pours his soul into, words and characters, they are his true lovers. He wakes to them, spends every hour with them, and takes them to bed. Those he casts must fit perfectly, though can they really? Who, in all the world, knows these creations better than Alexei Monroe, Dionysus, the God of Theatre? Dozens walk onto his stage, dozens leave with "Sorry, love. I don't think you fit. Next!". Each play he creates must go off without a hitch, but there will always, always be an infinitesimally small flaw that gets under his skin. Such things produce a perfectionist complex as he works, and can make him intensely and unusually irritable. Add that to his already present disposition to use and misuse people, and you've got yourself an incredibly manipulative man on a search for perfection in the imperfect.
Because once everything you are is taken, when the revelers stop chanting your name, what is there left?
|Family|
Zeus: Father...mother? There was a thigh involved, and Alexei is not fond of it.
Semele: "Mother", though you can't really mother a son when you're dead.
And more lovers and children than should be counted...
|Strengths|
Charismatic
Creative
Ambitious and Motivated
Idealistic
Enthusiastic
|Weaknesses|
Vain
Perfectionist
Lacks commitment to anything except his work
Incredibly Manipulative
Reckless
|Likes|
Ristretto espresso after a night of wild drinking
Autumn
City walks
Clubs
Risk-taking
|Dislikes
Safety
Monogamy
Desolate areas
Not being in the know
Formality
|History|
Since the first imbibing of wine, Dionysus has been invoked in revelry and performance. Was, at least. His role in liberating the Greeks from their social constraints was nearly as intoxicating as the wine he bestowed. Thousands submitted to his gifts, the mania and ecstasy found in hidden revelry. However, once the parties became too much, the freedom too sweet, his followers were cracked down on and Dionysus was left without the hymns and chants of those who partook in his Mysteries. In a way, his loss of godhood felt as though it began far earlier.
Though when the time did come, and the gods and goddesses were all asked to hand in that which made them, them, Dionysus felt betrayed. Weren't they above mortals? What he gave, he gave for the sake of amusement. Blessings he gave were given to entertain himself. Humans were just vastly amusing creatures that were incredibly gullible.
After handing in his godhood and descending to the mortal plane, Dionysus simply cut contact with the rest of his pantheon. There were still plenty of ways to have his fun, even if it meant dealing with an infinitely infuriating mortal body that couldn't hold its liquor. It took several years for Dionysus to even begin to change his stance on mortals, but after being one it was getting harder and harder to objectify them. Of course, he still did most times, he just acknowledged what he was doing was most likely morally wrong. Dionysus took on the moniker Alexei Monroe, after living off the grid was getting impossible and flowery names seemed to work wonders on those he charmed. Life in New York City led to studying at the city's University, getting a Bachelor's in English, specifically screenwriting. It was about time to start reclaiming what was his, anyways.
A few years pass and his plays hit the mainstream. They're critically acclaimed, praised, and Alexei's name was spread throughout the thespian world. Word also spread about his insane cast parties, his sexual deviancy, and every other wild tale under the sun. And what did he do? Owned up to it, of course! It was an honor to be known for his spheres of influence once again. And as long as his shows kept breaking the box office, no one really cared. Now, one of his best works is reaching it's final stages, nearly ready for the spotlight.
Things are turning up, and the drink has never been sweeter.
|Opinion on Mortals|
Alexei hates the powerlessness, being brought down to such a level, and even though his lineage involves a mortal, he's not one to acknowledge that. Initially, they were nothing more than tools and pawns. For the most part, they still are, but he hates to admit that he takes a shining to a select few. Then proceeds to stamp it out with cheap sex, great wine, and a "call you later" that never comes.
|Theme Song|
Long Way Down – Robert DeLong
”I've been fucking around while you've been saving the world
I've been out of my mind
I've been dreaming things and scheming things
I've been smoking the poison
You've been slinging your anecdotes
I've been fucking around while you were saving the world
From nothing
”
Mortal vs. Immortal
|Mortal Skills/Abilities|
Alexei has become a great writer, coming up with all kinds of stories from romance to action-packed fantasy. He mixes a mean-ass cocktail, paints in the autumn, and can hold a conversation about nearly anything. His intoxicating aura from godhood somewhat manifests itself in his irresistible charm, able to sway even the hardest hearts. Alexei tries to stay fit, running every morning (that he's not a vegetable, which really isn't often) and learning to cook decently at home. He's a fantastic entertainer, and is known to use said skills to get information that he wants.
|Immortal Skills/Abilities|
Once his powers begin to return, Dionysus's blood alcohol level is left to his whim. He can be as wasted or as sober as he pleases, as long as he has at least a couple drinks in his system to work with.
More interestingly is his power over wine. He can alter it's strength, from dollar-store vintage to knock-you-on-your-ass, without altering taste. It's the flavor bouquet, not the booze, that you want to taste, after all. Not very useful against gods and such, but humans cave pretty damn quickly. And, with a touch of honey from his thyrsus, which comes closer to his higher power, the drink can inspire hysteria and maniacal revelry that only Dionysus can control. His own personal procession.
In regards to combat, he really doesn't have much in the way of direct fighting potential. He does have some control over vines, but that's really only in places with plant life.
|Favorite Myth|
Isis hunting down Osiris' body
|
3,174
| 70
| 15
| 969
| 1,093
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"That's my cue."
Location: Phoenix, Arizona → Asgard
Interaction: Taking the Podium
That feeling.
Like the moon shined a certain clarity upon his eyes. No, not just his eyes, his entire being swelled as if the lunar rays wrapped themselves around him, heavy, yet a constant comfort. Emmanuel shut his eyes and breathed deep through his nostrils, ignoring the sudden, painful presence of piercing blue eyes on him. For a moment, Emmanuel could feel freedom and, for him, that feeling came scarcely.
"-manuel. Emmanuel. Manny!" A voice snapped him from his reverie and Emmanuel gasped at the cold shock of a hand grasping his forearm. He yanked back and nearly tumbled into the desk beside him.
"Sh-shit, Danny," he breathed, looking from her to the projector as it flickered on and off, sliding in almost real time to show another entire side of the Andromeda galaxy being wiped away—no, devoured. Almost half the galaxy was just... gone.
From beside him, Danielle made a nose, turning from him to the projector's image. She cursed and bit down on a gasp, "Shit's right. What the hell do we do?"
Emmanuel moved, his mouth open for a moment before the door slammed forcibly into the wall. Danny jumped, and made toward the sound only to be stopped by Emmanuel's hand yanking her back. "It's alright," he said, guiding her to a chair, "I need you to stay here, record and document everything and I'll be back as soon as I can. Promise."
Before he turned the corner, Emmanuel glanced back, a finger pointed at Danielle, "And don't tell a soul outside of this project. This stays here, Danny, got it?" Once she nodded her understanding, Emmanuel disappeared and flew toward the sound, knowing full well what to expect. And then he paused, forgetting that he needed evidence before standing before the entirety of earth's Deities and attesting to something. It took a moment and a shush for Danielle's inevitable questions before he stuffed his suitcase with everything he needed and vanished through the portal.
The door gave an audible slam behind him. And that was it. This was it.
Emmanuel rushed down the steps, ignoring the curious eyes and nearly tripping over that damned dog. He didn't have time to scream, shout, or get angry; he'd save the tantrum for later.
"Shut up," he shoved past Tyr the moment the god opened his mouth to reprimand Fenrir, "And sit the hell down." With a finality, Emmanuel slammed his briefcase onto the podium. All but Fenrir's giggles hushed themselves into silence, though not many took their seats again.
"James," Emmanuel started over the silence, opening his briefcase to pull out the projector he'd stuffed inside and all the cords tangled in, "Be the sweetheart that you are and find some way to plug this in?"
James blinked at the request but did as he was told, giving Emmanuel a nod and finding a suitable place to plug everything in. Oddly enough, Raijin had enough juice to power the object and the picture of the Andromeda galaxy, whole and peaceful in its still image, lit the curtain enveloping the small pavilion in the center. It took a little adjusting before James got the projector's image just right.
Of course, Emmanuel hadn't expecting this to go as smoothly as he hoped and Tyr chose that exact moment to make his protest. "What does this have to do with anything?" he hissed, "This is an investigation, not show-and-tell."
"Stow it and move Odin's corpse off the stage, please," Emmanuel said, not missing a beat and not giving Tyr the satisfaction of eye contact. Before Tyr could make a move, Emmanuel turned to give him a look as he spoke, his hand wrapped around a remote and clicking the button in the center, "This is the Andromeda galaxy, approximately 2.5 million light years away."
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Tyr said, pounding a fist onto the podium.
"As you can see, there's absolutely nothing happening in this boring, dead, spiraling piece of crap heading our way one light year at a time," Emmanuel closed the distance between them, bumping chests and huffing in Tyr's personal space. A click sounded between them and the picture changed to show the ever decreasing space of one of Andromeda's mass of stars, "This is the Andromeda galaxy not 30 minutes ago." Another click, another chunk gone, "This is 28 minutes ago." Another, "26 minutes."
"You get the gist?" Emmanuel dare, and Tyr took a pause before backing up to look at the display, "How long was it since Odin's time of death?"
James chose that moment to speak up, "Uh, about 20 minutes ago. Give or take" Raijin hissed at his side and James muttered an apology, while one of the Mayan god's of death chimed in to concur with James.
"This was taken about 24 minutes ago," Emmanuel stated and clicked again. Thousands of light years had been wiped from existence, leaving nothing but the backdrop of stars behind it. He clicked one more time, showing one side practically devoured in an instant, and third of it just chipping away into nothing, "This was 18 minutes ago. And this,"
One last time to show the most recent slide Danielle and he had acquired. A massive galaxy, spanning hundreds of thousands of light years across eaten away, bit by gigantic bit. Those were stars hundreds, maybe thousands of times the size of their sun, completely eradicated and they were all squabbling and laughing. Emmanuel took a great breath and set the remote down to shuffle a few papers. "I have quite a bit of statistics here from Vulcan's Haus satellite showing the enormous rate at which this galaxy is practically dying. No light distortion, no radiation emissions, explosions, galactic supernovas. I can't find anything but just data erased as this thing crumbles to pieces. I have charts comparing Andromeda 20 years ago to now and 1 hour ago to now and they're so drastically different I'm about to have an aneurysm.
"I don't know what you guys have been doing in your spare time, but damn, someone here's gotta vendetta against this entire universe or the fact that a galaxy was named after whatshisface's girlfriend. But I have a sneaking suspicion that whatever did this," he pointed at the image and then at Odin, "and that, isn't someone looking for revenge. No matter how much I want someone here torn to shreds, I can't consciously condemn him to death.
"So, yeah, I mean, feel free to leave to your wife, your husband, your kids, your shitty plays, and your worthless lives. I'll just be sitting here gloating over Odin's dead body waiting to tell ever one of you, 'I told you so.'" And with that Emmanuel slammed his briefcase shut and immediately regretted the action the moment James came flying down with the projector and its memory card. He opened it for the guy before slamming it shut a second time.
"Are you done?" Tyr asked, his teeth almost audibly grinding together. Emmanuel gave him a smile, a pat on the nub, and found his seat. "Right, so, I suppose we have that to investigate, as well. So, yes, this is vastly important to every one of you, not just us Norse fellows because I'm positive none of you give two shits about Odin dying. I have half a mind to say it was well deserved, gods rest his soul. But that hatred doesn't detract from the direness of this situation, and Mani proved his point."
Athena cut in, stepping by his side, "However, we're not making any rash decisions just yet. It was nice of you to bring that to our attention, Mani, but it won't be stopping this investigation any time soon. We'll our people look into it, while also weeding out any of our suspects here. It's just not enough evidence to drive us away from our main concern and that is a god or goddess with a vendetta. Nemesis, if you will?" She turned toward June and gestured to the crowd, waiting for her to take her allotted group through to be questioned and filed.
|
God of transitions, beginnings, passages, doors, and endings
Basic Profile
|Name|
Janus
|Alias(es)|
James Alfero; Associated with the god Partunus
|Gender|
Male
|Sexuality|
Demisexual Homoromantic
|Pantheon/Faith|
Roman
|Occupation|
Bouncer at a Strip Club during the night; Librarian during the day
Appearance
|Godly Appearance|
A god of two faces, one which looks to the past with longing in his eyes, and one that looks to the future in hope and aspiration, Janus embodies the beginning and the end. Body cast in gold, Janus stands at an alarming seven feet, adorned in the robes of a scholar but with fine steel plate layered over. In his hands he holds both heads, which usually find a place hovering, yet connected to his neck. The left holds youth and glory, face a golden shine with eyes blue and glowing brilliance; this face looks toward the future of mankind. The other, held in the right, is one of wizened years, as it looks toward days passed. A lengthy beard of dull, white gold frames the wrinkled edges of his face, with a lighter, dimmer haze of blue radiating from his eyes.
Janus himself hovers off the ground, feet held within a middle ground between the sky and the earth. He is usually found presiding over doorways, especially those to his long dead temples. Not only that, but Janus is ever present for any change and transition, a god of passages, a god of the threshold.
|Earthly Appearance|
Tall, though not as strikingly tall as his 7'0" godly visage, James stands at a nice 6'4"—a giant reigning over the average human. That being far from the truth, however, Janus carries himself with a humbleness and an ever attentive gaze. Though, sharp is his gaze, Janus chose a softer feature for his face, letting the edges of his jaw round rather than stick and the blunt of his nose glides gentle toward average lips, red and soft to the touch. Of all things, James loves smiling, lips found stretching over a row of brilliant, white teeth.
Often considered the most striking feature of his ensemble are James' ears; they're large and fold outward from his head. As well, they tend to move, or wiggle, to the movement of his eyebrows. That meaning, one can tell when James gets particularly excited, as his eyebrows tend to animate when he talks and his ears move along with them. Though, most of his emotions lay in the shine and glint of his green eyes. Though technically green, James' eyes vary in a mixture of color: green holds dominance in it's burst of warmth, though the majority of his iris holds a starburst of golden brown flecks, which dot the green in random pattern.
Regardless of his prominent features, James tends to vary on the average. Even boasting a tall frame with wide set shoulders and physique to fill out the majority of his clothes (he learned quick that, to be an intimidating bouncer, one has to bulk up accordingly), James blends in with the vast majority of mortal crowds. Maybe it's a god thing nowadays, but James doesn't much like bringing attention to himself. He feels deeply that his kind has brought too much trouble to the world of men and women.
Who Am I?
|Personality|
During Rome's reign, Janus presented himself as an amoral figure in the Pantheon. Whereas Bellona thirsted for rage and war, and Venus love and promiscuity, Janus held himself balanced in the middle. He neither wanted nor gained from interference from mortals. Maybe impartiality is a staple to clairvoyant beings, but then again, maybe it had to do with the fact that Janus seemed so ubiquitous to the daily lives of his worshippers. Romans held a vast number of rituals dedicated to just Janus himself, at the start of a year, at the end of it. Even mornings fell in Janus' domain. Thus, it left Janus with little time for emotions, though he grew to care for the small rituals of each Roman citizen.
Present day Janus finds himself overwhelmed with feeling. Overwhelmed with guilt and disgust for his people, in particular and growing ever closer to the humans that used to doddle at his feet. Of course, having been partial for most the near entirety of his godhood, Janus doesn't particular know how to handle emotions. And neither does he know much of society itself. A god that looked toward the future and the past stuck in the present does not make a happy god.
Janus himself contains a vast intellect; his mind is a database of knowledge and facts. However, that does not make up for social knowledge. Most of Janus intelligence remains hypothetical. When faced with the challenge of practicality, Janus seems at a loss with what to do. Interacting with people, interacting with other cultures outside of Rome, all of it left Janus dizzy and with no desire to face the problem head on. For a perceptive god, Janus doesn't pride himself on being able to understand why certain things are happening, just that they are.
This accidental isolation leaves Janus in modern times with a heart weighed heavy by loneliness and a mind still boggled at the mystery of human nature. Maybe he should stay a scholar and philosopher, rather than an actual presence.
|Family|
"Family? I'm... not sure I have that."
|Strengths|
Perceptive
Intelligent
Trusting
Decisive
Liberal
|Weaknesses|
Inattentive/Easily Distracted
Romantic/Idealistic
Aloof
Pedantic
Intensely Hypothetical
|Likes|
Cats
Traveling
Baby Animals
Books/Movies
Doors
Singing and Dancing
Harry Potter
|Dislikes
Hypocrites (Ironically, being literally two-faced)
Prematurely Stopping
Middles
Hates the Aisle Seat on Planes
Being Cutoff While Talking
People Who Slam Doors
People Who Don't Close Doors All The Way
|History|
Unlike most gods, Janus lived in his own temporal bubble. Things went and passed without much interference from himself. Doors opened and closed, both figuratively and literally. Not many myths dealt with Janus himself, though the ones that currently do aren't necessarily accurate—he loathes his association with Cardea who he never once had much relations with. Though, his time spent with Saturn remained one he cherishes today, as he does with Camese. Janus himself didn't have much in the way of friendship, having mainly those two particular gods, as well as a close friendship with Juno, or Hera.
For years, nothing of note had occurred to the god, or that the god incurred upon others. Janus, wise as he may have been, staid much in the shadows and relished in the quiet of peace, when the doors to his temple closed. In terms of other gods, Janus hadn't much to do with them and felt content in his solitude. Only the recent agreement to denounce powers affected Janus greatly. However, it occurred at such a time that he likely would have vanished from memory to the begin with. Thus, Janus gave his powers willingly and went on to live the life of a wandering scholar, and often times a hermit.
Being more of an observing entity, Janus merely watched the ebb and flow of human life. It more so involved his unwavering ineptitude with societal interactions than wanting to observe in the first place. Thus, Janus stuck to the many libraries that dotted Europe and the many churches and cathedrals that hung their shadows in city squares. During this time, Janus took to books and knowledge, learning humanity, but never once truly living it.
However, one thing he did garner from his travels was the closeness he felt to humanity itself. Even standing from afar, Janus took to mortals more so than his own kind and grew ever guilty of the blood his people shed over petty desires and fruitless schemes. That wasn't to say he hated other deities, he just felt slightly biased in his opinion. That didn't quite stop his inquisitive nature and the loneliness he felt as the centuries passed by. Thus, Janus retained one power, extremely week in its ungodly state, like many of his own brethren, which Janus used to remedy his loneliness. Of course, being able to use doors as vocal points for teleportation never really gave him the desired outcome. None of his kind ever really paid attention to him, or found him annoying and rather too talkative, thus, most of his days were spent alone and with his nose buried in a book.
|Opinion on Mortals|
"It's nice to watch them. But, maybe I treat them too much like birds, instead of people."
Most of Janus interactions with humans could be explained in the span of an hour. This is taking into account centuries worth of interaction, which can only fill an hour of time. Most of these interactions were merely hellos, and accidental bumps, rather than in depth conversations, so they are quite numerous in quantity, but lack in quality. Whereas other, more social gods like Aphrodite, could spend years telling her tales of mortal men and women and inbetweens. But, Janus loves humanity, but he much prefers to watch, rather than participate.
|Theme Song|
No Place I'd Rather Be – Clean Bandits
”With every step we take, Kyoto to The Bay
Strolling so casually
We're different and the same, get you another name
Switch up the batteries”
|Favorite Myth|
Eros and Psyche
Mortal vs. Immortal
|Mortal Skills/Abilities|
Well, Janus has a keen sense of perception and can tell various cues apart from each other. However, he can't exactly tell you why something happens, especially if it happens to be something social. That being said, Janus retained his vast depository of useless knowledge. Okay, it's not useless, but there's a lot of stuff in his noggin detailing the intricate chemical compound of yeast and both why and how it grows. Another ability he'd gained is how to tell what properties a door has, what kind of metal or wood it is, how old it is, how sturdy it his. He could talk for days about doors, if only anyone would ask.
Regardless, Janus is well read, well educated, and perceptive of various things.
|Immortal Skills/Abilities|
Janus has always been able to travel through doors, just like Poseidon will always be able to talk to fish, though he doesn't really know why anyone would. They're dull creatures, aside from sharks, jellyfish, and shrimp. And it's not a normal traversal through doorways because anyone can do that. Janus, however, can pretty much pop up anywhere as long as there's a door that'll lead him there.
As his powers grow, Janus will gain his supernatural perception, which will grow into full blown clairvoyance, as well as foresight and hindsight. Thus, leaving him able to foresee various events in the future and pinpoint which path an individual is currently traveling on. Most of all, through these powers, Janus can tell the exact point a person's life will change, as well as end, sharing his ability with Hades. Of course, he doesn't know the exact date and time, just what the event will be. Of course, most of the time Janus doesn't like to spoil things for himself and would rather live the transition himself.
Lastly, Janus' combat capabilities lie in his utter control over portals which he can place and use anywhere between two points. The concept itself is pretty simple: Janus creates a portal beneath someone, they fall into, and are transported somewhere else... depending on if they're mortal or not, it's like out in space. Likewise, Janus can literally rip passages and archways into any concrete surface without harming the surface itself. So he makes doorways by forcing a surface open. This ability over portals will likely be the last of all of them to develop.
|Favorite Myth|
Eros and Psyche
"I like to pretend I have friends. But, I think I've come to realize that never really works out."
Umiko Ryudo || Ryūjin
"She's a lovely lady. I drop by sometimes for tea and sushi."
Hadrian Pryde || Hades
"I think I annoy him, but he's never asked me to leave, so... I think I'd like to stay."
In the past century or so, Janus hasn't known Hades to be anything but prickly, rude, and generally isolated. Most of his interactions beyond the last 10 or so years have been brief, almost nonexistent. Without the necessary tools to peel back that thorn covered layer, Janus has kept his distance as often as he could. How he came to stop by nearly every day, if only for a second, Janus couldn't quite say. Or, actually, he'd rather not say. Janus contains a good memory of change, of when it happens, and why it happens. Thus, it's no different when Janus noticed the change in Hades' demeanor and it all centered in the little boy he'd acquired. And, thus, Janus, in his usual loneliness, got a glimpse of what Hades looked like underneath all the gruff nonchalance and rude exterior.
To say he liked what he saw would be a vast understatement. It's a lot like how he'd come to be best friends with the Goddess of Love and Promiscuity and how she hasn't tried to sleep with him (again).
Thus, despite Hadrian's loud protests, James stays and if he catches a glimpse of a smile from the gloomy lord of the underworld, he won't say. Plus, his kids are the loveliest and Astra has come to call him Uncle James on many, if not all, occasions. He's caught Mikhael do the same, though, like his father, he immediately covers it with a furrow of his brow and a dirty scowl.
James owes a lot to the Prydes for (begrudgingly) welcoming him into their home. For the company he knows Hadrian wants and needs. For allowing him to help with the family's needs. He has a lot of time on his hands and doesn't know what to do with it, so spending time with a family that have slowly come to accept him as one of their own means a lot. Means a lot more than he's willing to let Hadrian know. For reasons. God of the Underworld has a big ego and, well, it'd do no good to fill it, right?
Sable Amasi || Bastet
"She doesn't know it, but sometimes I come by when I know she's not home just to pet her cats."
Amane Mikami || Benzaiten
"She teaches me Japanese! Watashi wa toire wa desu ka."
Ellen Dove || Aphrodite
"Hadrian tells me it's a bad idea, but she's probably one of my best friends. We drink so much wine together."
Hewitt Danford || Huitzilopochtli
"Oh, he's a scary man."
Andrew Jackley || Anubis
"Ellen and I call him Goobis. He's kinda awesome."
Jordan Natter || Jörmungandr
"He looks like a fun guy, but he's kinda mean."
Sebastian Morales || Maximón
"His cat is the best. He maybe not so much."
Regan Macguire || The Morrigan
"She doesn't like to talk to me much."
Kora Black || Persephone
"Hadrian keeps telling me not to talk to her. I don't know why?"
June Fallon || Nemesis
"I don't know if she likes to glare or if she's legit glaring at me."
Personification of the Moon
Basic Profile
|Name|
Máni Mundilfärison
|Alias(es)|
Emmanuel Welch
|Gender|
Male
|Sexuality|
Homosexual
|Relationship Status|
Single
|Pantheon/Faith|
Norse
|Occupation|
Mani has gone through several occupations, gone to college about twenty times. His most memorably time was when he went to Yale when it first founded to become a bishop for the local church. He found Catholicism interesting, but after a few years he tired of it.
Among the occupations and degrees he's gone through are: physics teacher, astronomer, bus driver, bartender, and manager at a Starbucks.
Recently, he's gone back to gather another Astronomy degree and currently works in an observatory for the University of Arizona.
"She's gone. She's really gone."
Appearance
|Godly Appearance|
Mani, unlike his sister, went to the skies without complaint and came, upon his chariot, shrouded in silver. It was said that the gods themselves felt hubris over both brother and sister, as their beauty radiated through day and night. So much so, that their father, Mundilfari, chose Máni, the moon, and Sól, the sun, as their names. Beautiful as they were, beauty only came as a curse and for their father's hubris they were punished. Before the fall of the gods, Mani shone bright in the sky while he glided around the moon in his chariot, a protector that the gods of the moon smiled at—and a companion to the ever lonely Chang'e, trapped just as he in endless rotations.
Other than his silver glow, a reflection of the moon, Mani doesn't differ much from mortals in his visage. He remains his height in both godly and mortal appearance (5'9"), as well as retaining the same physical build. His white curls fold under an iron viking helmet, with silver gilding along the eyes and down the bridge of his nose that shine with the dull grey of his irises. A matching torso of iron mail wraps around his chest, buttoned in clasps of jade given to him by the Chinese moon goddess. The ensemble fits together with his iron leggings and greaves, gilded and trimmed in silver along the edges and creases of the armor.
|Earthly Appearance|
Sharp, like a bird with creases of stress that wrinkle his visage, Mani strikes a crude resemblance to his godly self, and the individual that drove the Asgardians to jealousy. Crooked nose dips into thin, pursed lips that slide over white teeth in a grimace. Mani's cheeks are made for smiling, with their height and prominence, rosy in complexion and rounded perfect by the jowls framing the corners of his mouth. The wrinkles end at his jowls and smooth into an angled jawline that curves toward a narrow chin to neatly frame his face in a diamond. The features of his face embolden in the frame of dark brown, considered long for short hair that fall along the top and side of his hair in a lion's mane coif. Of all the features, Mani takes the greatest pride in his hair, keeping it healthy and perpetually soft to touch; and does Mani appreciate a welcomed touch through his wavy locks.
Mani's skin radiates a fair glow, pale in complexion but not strikingly so, from days away from the bright burn of the sun. It leaves his body in a similar hue, over a lean, muscular frame that accents broad shoulders and a more prominent chest. Mani's posture accentuates the more conspicuous parts of his body, which bounds with a careful, thought out poise. Many of Mani's mannerisms remain stilled and calm with a gentle motion to them; most everything Mani does is deliberate.
A near blinding obedience used to shield the emotions loose in his eyes, a vibrant blue backdrop for complacency. However, these passing days a single-minded determination colors the hues of his iris a dark midnight. Coming through in different shades, darker and darker as it goes, the blue radiates from the pupil in an angry burst of color that layer over each other as they fall into the whites of his eyes. They're cold and distant now, more like the blackness he once found a home in, yet without the bright stars that dot the abyss or the moon to reflect upon the sun's glory. They're ice. They're the depths of the ocean and unfathomable in their dimmed glow. Much like Mani himself remains an enigma, though his cause has never been more obvious.
"Life gives you lemons? You make like a rabbit and hop off."
Who Am I?
|Personality|
Prior to Ragnarok, as he and many other Norse gods call it, Mani took to his job with relative ease—Mundilfari always prided himself with an obedient son. Like the moon, Mani felt calm disposition lighten his veins, lessening the fear of being chased into eternity in an orbit around the celestial body. He supposes, he handled the situation a lot better than his sister ever did—or maybe worse? Sol had always expressed herself freely, let herself see the joys in life and they only ever saw each other in passing, when the moon's orbit brought it closest to the sun.
Looking back now, Mani feels more shame than anything. Why make excuses for gods driven by passion and hatred? That, of all things, Mani regrets the most. The moon itself isn't a cold being, not spiritually at least. Maybe lonely, as Chang'e and her Jade Rabbit were. Maybe disembodied like Coyolxahqui, betrayed by her family and a betrayer herself. Mani, though, of all beings trapped among the crude surface, felt the bond between he and the lunar body rip a part and the dread of impending oblivion sink in. Now, wandering earth in search of purpose, Mani only feels a cold hatred; ironic, as he was chased by Hati, the one who hates.
That coldness drives him further from the gods he sees now. No longer hindered by a filter of ignorance and willful naivety, Mani's hate runs for the deities that sent him to guard the moon in the first place. He shouldn't say guard. No, he was more bait than vanguard. And that hatred drives Mani, both further in his life and further into the ground. Somehow, it's okay, though, to be angry all the time. To just want to throw every piece of furniture out a 10 story window. Because anger feeds into determination, perseverance, a will to continue forward instead of going back or standing still. Mani refuses to remain idol, refuses to continue looking to the past, regardless of how much of it he holds on to; it's always forward for him and if he has to cut a few corners and run people out of his way, then Mani's more than willing.
|Family|
Sól - Sister. Supposedly deceased. Killed by Fenrir.
Mundilfari - Father.
|Strengths|
Nocturnal
Obedient
Learned
Determined
Conscientious
|Weaknesses|
Vindictive
Lost
Callous
Repressive
Overworks Self
|Likes|
Horses
Nightlife
Quiet/Solitude
Starbucks Frappes
Stargazing
|Dislikes
The Sun
White Fluorescent Lights
Heat
Mornings
Getting Out of Bed
|History|
The sky is burning.
The sky is burning. Cold ashen rays from the sun to melt the ocean and the earth in slow waves. The sky was burning and he could do nothing about it, driving the moon from spiteful Hati. These gods and their wars, pulling him and his sister into a fight they would have taken no part in. But, obedient Mani had no qualms. Obedient Mani had seen the Asgardians as heroes and leaders, obviously their decision concluded after many hard nights of reasoning. Prophecies and jealousy and hatred. They took them from their father and they cast them in chariots to guard the moon and the sun, ever chased by Fenrir's ilk—Sköll and Hati. Until prophecy dictated the wolves catch their quarry and devour them whole. He should have listened to his sister's hateful spite.
Events didn't quite unfold that way, at least not for Mani. For his sister, Sol, Sköll hadn't been the one to catch her, Fenrir did the deed and ate her whole. All the gods reigning dominion over the sun never once looked twice at the stalwart protector as her chariot fell from the skies, a comet and tear to rip open the sky. Yet, Mani hadn't heard of her death until he'd gotten free himself—hadn't realized the comet that fell to earth had been her chariot. His quarrels ended when the Shinto god of the moon, Tuskuyomi, intervened in the battle and chase with one swoop of his sword. The wolf Hati, burned by the sword and without a left hand, turned and fled to his father's side to aid in his battle.
Left to wander the skies in search of his sister, rather than the surveillance of the moon, Mani came to find no solace in the stars he called home. The gods of the sun gave him no head and so he, enraged, fell to the earth to discard his chariot and leave the moon without a sentinel to watch over. Luckily for him, Mani's timing occurred nearly perfectly, as once he landed the gods, as well as he, signed a pact to relinquish their powers. Thus, Mani's chariot would have been forced from his care regardless of his decision and thus left to roam the earth again, after millenia.
With no real word on his sister, Mani assumed her dead by the hands of Fenrir and thus he spent the next century or so finding the likely downgraded wolf to enact some kind of vengeance. Being near-human, however, that search came and went and Mani soon found himself tired and lost as to what to do. Thus, he moved along with humanity, content to learn and study and occupy his time, but still as lost as ever. He staid away from most gods, loathing most beings for both casting them to the sky and letting Sol perish. The only gods he ever had any real contact, and contentment with were those in the Shinto dominion, as they came to his aid when he needed it the most.
Bouncing from country to country to eventually continents, Mani finally settled somewhere in Arizona with another astronomy degree (since one from the 18th century seemed slightly phony) and a yearning to look back to the skies.
|Opinion on Mortals|
"I live among them. I at least care a little bit of what happens to them, and likely won't bargain their lives away, but other than dire situations, I don't much care for them."
Mani's relationship with mortals, in general, is rather indifferent. Of course, he would side with them in a heartbeat if the situation threatened their well being, but most of the time Mani doesn't pay them much attention. Maybe that's because he's a relative introvert, preferring his solitude over much else, as well as his work. Most humans don't pay him mind, as he's often hunched over papers, books, or preoccupied with a telescope or computer.
|Theme Song|
Cosmic Love – Florence + The Machine
”The stars, the moon, they have all been blown out
You left me in the dark
No dawn, no day, I'm always in this twilight
In the shadow of your heart”
"Is it bad that I have no idea what to do with myself?"
Mortal vs. Immortal
|Mortal Skills/Abilities|
With a drive and a purpose, anyone can do whatever it is their heart requests. For Mani, that meant quite a few things. The former god of the moon knows too much math for his own good, keeping himself routed in physics based calculus and graphing to aid in his astronomy work. Speaking of which, Mani would gladly discuss each and every one of the heavenly bodies, telescopes, satellites, how everything works out in space. He'll talk for days, if he's allowed to.
Aside from that, Mani is exceptionally skilled at driving, playing the piano, taking care of horses, horse riding, and coffee foam art.
|Immortal Skills/Abilities|
Mani didn't have an arsenal of godly weapons at his disposal. To be honest, he didn't and still doesn't have much. Of all things, though, Mani has speed and will out race almost anyone that's not Hermes or Mercury, especially in a vehicle. He still kind of retains that speed and the ability of enhanced perception whilst traveling at an inhuman velocity, so his reflexes and thoughts are infinitely better in fast situations.
One power he will regain is superhuman healing when in the moonlight, as well as night vision, and enhanced strength, senses, and reflexes. There's honestly not much else besides that.
At the end of his shift in power, Mani will be able to summon his chariot, which travels roughly the speed of a jet airplane, but when given the space to do so, i.e. in space, it can travel at light speeds. He also regains his shield, able to hold off even Fenrir for but a short time.
"I have never been so amazed at the idea of sleep. I do it so much now."
Serpent of the Wind, God of Rain, Winds, Creator of the World
Basic Profile
|Name|
Quetzalcohuātl
|Alias(es)|
Q'uq'umatz
Kukulkan
Waxaklahun Ubah Kan
Ehécatl
As of now he refers to himself as Querida Castillo; goes by Reed for short, most of the time.
|Gender|
Genderless. Uses masculine pronouns
|Sexuality|
Gray-A
|Relationship Status|
Single. Why would I trifle in meaningless affairs?
|Pantheon/Faith|
Mesoamerican
|Occupation|
Reed, since the fall of the Mesoamerican pantheon and the subsequent fall of gods themselves, has been busy at exploring various jobs. So far, he's gone through construction work to being a CFO to a large oil company stationed in Texas during the 1900s. Recently, though, Reed has taken to playing the piano, a hobby he'd picked up at the start of his 'mortal' life and has since been honing for centuries. He's preformed quite a bit in the 1920s, stopped, and started up during World War II. After the 60s, he saved up all his earnings and took a vacation for a few decades before opening a small business. It started off as a coffee shop in the 90s, gave that up in the 2000s and opened a lounge/bar in San Diego that catered to an older era, aesthetic wise. He lets various artists preform there, most of them unknown and most of them he personally likes. On occasion, he'll sing and play piano.
Appearance
|Godly Appearance|
Quetzalcoatl personifies fear, embodies it with every coil of his body and feather of his wings. Pyramids erected in his name, possessing exact time and day and sunlight, call to a beast of the wind and child of the heavens. Dwarfing even the dragons of the middle age, Quetzal more resembles the visage of the great king Ao Guang with his serpentine form. All sharp edges of green, turquoise, and gold, Quetzalcoatl's scales remind of the great Mayan pyramids with steps wide to the top
|Earthly Appearance|
How would they appear as a mortal from day to day life? What are their striking features? At least one solid paragraph.
Who Am I?
|Personality|
Who could be more of a snake than the giant snake himself?
Of all traits, Quetzalcoatl has always been known for his cunning. Of course, a lot of people like to call it assholery. Douchebag a la mode. Fuckboi with a side of asshat. Quetzalcoatl simply calls it, "I'm smarter than you." And, by leaps and bounds, Quetzal's intellect soars at great heights, maybe a little too great for his ego. Regardless, despite his usual pompous demeanor, Quetzal's mind looks at situations and issues more analytically than most people. His mind takes a problem and puts it in a database, catalogs it, and then searches for a solution all within the span of a few moments. That isn't to say he does this with every moment of his life and Quetzal has found that a lot of times, his solutions don't seem to fix the problem as a whole, but merely puts a tarp over it and calls it a day.
Supposedly, that leads to Quetzalcoatl's more relaxed nature. After so many years of strife, war, killing, sacrifices made in his honor, it's gotten to the point where Quetzalcoatl simply wishes to not care. For a while. For a good, long time. He's spent too long being serious and working up a persona that's far too exaggerated to resemble who he really is. And now, exhaustion seems to have caught him by the tail feathers and yanked him down into a weird complacency. A spot where Quetzal doesn't ever feel the need to exert his full effort or put his whole self into anything that he doesn't find personally enjoyable. Thus, Quetzal tires of things easily and people even more so. Many war gods (most of the Aztec pantheon, let's be real here) tend to attribute this to a lack of strife and battle, which he'll concede too because Quetzal isn't an argumentative person, even if they're entirely wrong. If he wants to win something, he'll do it his own way.
And then there's the part of Quetzalcoatl that shows just a glimpse of the great being he used to be. Not many people can match the vindictive streak that Quetzal has and will continue to pull off. Usually, the punishment fits the crime—or, at least it does so in Quetzal's mind. For too used to the cruel ways of the Aztec's, Quetzal's methods of getting back at someone can border on the sadistic and often leads to very nasty repercussions on his part. If a man is willing to mow down an entire nation back when he held the power, maybe it's not quite the best idea to get on his bad side. Because that's a lot of hatred to pour into just one person.
|Family|
Tezcatlipoca
Huitzilopochtli
|Strengths|
Clever
Persuasive
Elusive
Amiable
Attentive
|Weaknesses|
Clumsy
Hella Vindictive
Immoral
Ruthless
Repressive
|Likes|
Rum
Lounging
Sunbathing
Being Shirtless a Lot
Flying
|Dislikes
Being Grounded
Ursurpers
Mongoose
Being Woken Up
Swimming
|History|
None were quite as revered as he, upon his throne of stone and golden rays. He was the sun and the moon; the stars shone in his name, beating like the hearts carved upon his altar. And yet, for a king he did not fall with grace. When he fell, he took the world with him—world swallower. The ruination of kingdoms.
In the years passing, whilst the Aztecs reigned in warfare in doom and the Mayans held their culture until the waters fled them, Quetzalcoatl became ever more content with his waning thirst. From rejoicing in the hearts of his followers to throwing their offerings in disgust. Quetzalcoatl grew far more than most of his Mesoamerican brethren aimed to. But, bloodthirst was never a staple for the serpent, even when it felt nice to sink his fangs into something sweet enough that it popped.
It was this that Quetzalcoatl had been betrayed for. And the temples in his name seemed like dust with the people raising their shouts and battle cries to the serpent coiled around them. He supposed he owed much of this to his dear brother, who looked upon his throne and saw only the green of his scales from those slit eyes. And the jaguar whispered his deceit into the ears of the Mesoamerican people, of the damnation their king would bring them.
At that moment, neither of them knew of the truth.
He supposed it didn't matter, when his brother took him by the wings and shred them with fangs and teeth and claws and tossed him to the sea. Living, it seemed, was his brother's insult, like he spat upon his grave and told him he wasn't worth it. Quetzalcoatl seethed. He raged and the seas cried in anger with him. From there he tore through the ocean with something more than just his pride to heal.
When he arrived upon the coast of Portugal, Quetzalcoatl took to blending with the mortals easily, as many gods had done in the years that had passed. From there, Quetzalcoatl ventured to Spanish and made a name for himself, until Quetzalcoatl became Hernan Cortes and his eyes were set to the coast of Mexico. From there, the snake readied his venom and when he set sail all his eyes could see was the red of flames as Tenochtitlan burned to the ground.
Upon making ground, the people looked upon him as their returned god Quetzalcoatl and they couldn't have been more correct. To know that these people expected him after his own flesh and blood brother threw him to the sharks, that made it all the easier to continue the charade. And from there, Quetzalcoatl would uproot the Aztec people and burn them to the ground. From here on out, Quetzalcoatl saw only in red and he found it easier to massacre his own people than to think about exactly what crimes he was committing. It wasn't until he gutted the current ruler, Moctezuma, and set the Aztec people alight with rebellion did Quetzalcoatl finally understand the horrors and atrocities he'd committed. But, he'd come this far.
After making a hasty retreat, Quetzalcoatl regrouped his men and turned their advance once more upon the island city of Tenochtitlan. From afar, with his back turned to the flames, his home came under siege and was finally brought to its knees. He claimed it for the Spanish and the Aztecs dispersed, the nation toppled, and the few remaining willingly bowing to their Spanish conquerors.
The memory, to this day, remains locked away in the deep orifices of Quetzalcoatl's mind. He went through various trials then, quickly shedding his title as Cortes and becoming a man of his own. Without revenge and vendetta plaguing his thoughts, Quetzalcoatl was free to do as the other gods had done. He made a life for himself, though he often hopped from here to there, working through jobs and the various enterprises, but mostly getting bored of them and the people.
He went from Mexico to the states in the early 1900s, quickly picking up the piano and finding a nice niche in the growing, industrial boomtown of New York City. He made something out of himself, lost his mind in the music, and eventually went through various tours, disappeared, and did the exact same thing under a new alias. It wasn't until he'd gotten tired of the constant travel and audience that Quetzalcoatl came up with the name Querido Castillo, finished out a great year for his career, and finally settled on a business that quickly turned into something big on the West Coast. Well, big for a small business. It was nice enough. Not too prestigious, but not too much of a hole in the wall that he was scrambling for money.
And now, he doesn't really know what he'll do with himself.
|Opinion on Mortals|
"Silly things, humans are. One moment they're willing to gut a man to appease a god and the next they're willing to stab someone to death to steal a wallet full of nothing."
Quetzalcoatl both appreciates human beings for what they are, but also looks down upon them. Of course, the latter part is often of the more subtle variety, since he's not the top to go flaunting his fallen godhood, but, for the most part, it's still pretty evident. Plus, they're gullible and mean and treacherous. Despite that, they'd have to do quite a bit to cause Quetzal to rain down his ire for a second time. It'd have to be big, but he doesn't doubt that they're capable.
Most of all, though, Quetzalcoatl has a deep regret for what he's done and if he should ever lose that control again, he's not quite sure he could handle being sober, much like what The Morrigan has become.
|Theme Song|
Pompeii – Bastille
”We were caught up and lost in all of our vices
In your pose as the dust settled around us”
Mortal vs. Immortal
|Mortal Skills/Abilities|
What skills have they picked up that lie outside the realm of their godly abilities? Also, what residual effects do their powers have on mortals? Aphrodite being attractive, Apollo being a great guitar player and so on.
|Immortal Skills/Abilities|
While the deities begin to regain their powers, slowly, what is it that your character will be able to do/how can they influence the world in supernatural ways? Bear in mind these will be weakened forms to begin with. Eg. Zeus can’t reign down thunder and murder entire cities, but he can probably cast it at one person; Hermes can run at incredible speed, but not to the extent he could as a God...
The Eight Legged Horse of Odin
Basic Profile
|Name|
Sleipnir
|Alias(es)|
Stephen Lord
|Gender|
Male
|Sexuality|
Demisexual Homoromantic
|Relationship Status|
Single
|Pantheon/Faith|
Norse
|Occupation|
|Godly Appearance|
A written description of your character’s appearance as an immortal, or how they otherwise differed from normal humans. Some might even have taken an animal or animalistic form. Include traditional weapons or armor that have become their symbols.
|Earthly Appearance|
How would they appear as a mortal from day to day life? What are their striking features? At least one solid paragraph.
Am I?
|Personality|
What kind of person is your character? What are their motivations? How do they interact with people around them? Also include things like how they’ve changed ever since they’ve transitioned into mortal life. Have they gotten kinder? Meaner? Etc
Be sure to write in flaws! Absolutely no Mary Sues/Gary Stus
|Family|
Loki - Father
Svaðilfari - Mother
Fenrir - Half-Brother
Jormungandr - Half-Brother
Hel - Half-Sister
|Strengths|
At least 5
|Weaknesses|
At least 5
|Likes|
At least 5
|Dislikes
At least 5
|History|
Obviously a gloss on what they’ve done in human history since coming into existence. Must include what they were known for, how they reacted to the agreement to give up their powers, and what they have done since as a pseudo-mortal.
|Opinion on Mortals|
What do they think about other mortals, who have no knowledge of the gods? What do they think about being one of them – sort of?
|Theme Song|
Song – Artist
”A few lyrics here, please.”
|Favorite Myth|
What's your favorite story from any mythology or religion. If you don't have one, any book will do!
vs. Immortal
|Mortal Skills/Abilities|
What skills have they picked up that lie outside the realm of their godly abilities? Also, what residual effects do their powers have on mortals? Aphrodite being attractive, Apollo being a great guitar player and so on.
|Immortal Skills/Abilities|
While the deities begin to regain their powers, slowly, what is it that your character will be able to do/how can they influence the world in supernatural ways? Bear in mind these will be weakened forms to begin with. Eg. Zeus can’t reign down thunder and murder entire cities, but he can probably cast it at one person; Hermes can run at incredible speed, but not to the extent he could as a God...
|
3,175
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“Asgard more like Assgard.”
Location: Asgard
Interaction: Each Other and Interrupting Iðunn
The fact that an entire galaxy had disappeared, just like that? Sebastian should’ve been worried, even taking into account how the Mesoamerican and Norse Pantheons have never seen eye-to-eye. Odin’s death, and now this, those two events were something bordering on catastrophic, a telltale sign of forthcoming destruction. If even Odin could fall victim to such an attack, what did it mean for the rest of them? Truth be told, however, he really couldn’t bring himself to care about what had happened. Perhaps it was the alcohol, or the countless years he’d already spent as a boring, old human - either way, he didn’t think any of this was worth his concern. If there was someone out there coming after them, then so be it. They’d already spent far too long meddling in the affairs of the universe, anyway.
Still, in spite of any misgivings he might’ve had, the vehemence in Mani’s voice was unmistakable. Evidently, the Personification cared a great deal about Odin’s death, and the disappearance of the stars, but Sebastian couldn’t help but let out a chuckle when he started gesturing wildly at the little slideshow he’d prepared. What were they, in high school? He was expecting something a little more Tony Stark-esque; a swish, flick, and voila! A 3D hologram of whatever the hell you wanted. The gravity of the situation seemed lost on Sebastian, even as images of the quickly vanishing Andromeda flashed across the screen. The whole affair seemed laughable, almost ludicrous - Sebastian could hardly believe such a thing was possible. Who knew that even in death, Odin would be such a troublemaker?
Jordan wasn’t particularly fazed by Mani’s loud entrance either, staring at him as he rushed past to show them something apparently very important. Something to do with stars and galaxies? He wasn’t sure. He hadn’t really been listening, just looking at the pictures of the stars and ooh yes, they were very pretty stars.
His brow furrowed slightly, however, as he saw them blinking out of existence, chunks of them disappearing with each photo, as if someone were taking massive bites out of a galactic cookie. Then Emmanuel stopped changing the photos, went on a rant and really, Jordan wasn’t going to pay attention to a word of that. He did smile however, at the look on Tyr’s face when Mani patted his stump of a hand before sitting down.
What came after that was a little more successful in garnering his attention. Talk of investigations and suspects...even after considering just how many shots he’d had, it wasn’t too hard to put two and two together. If they were thinking it was someone within the Norse Pantheon, well, bets were probably on him and the rest of his family. Groaning and slumping in his seat, he looked pitifully up at Max.
“All I wanted, was to get shitfaced. Really. And now this?”
Sebastian just shot Jordan a knowing grimace in response. All this talk of investigation? It sounded like a textbook witch hunt, and he really wasn’t about to take that lying down. The whole thing sounded like far too much effort, and the mere thought of spending the rest of his night under interrogation was enough to elicit from him a groan of despair. Why couldn’t they have just left him alone? He hadn’t even gone anywhere near Australia, and for God’s sake, he was literally this close to getting laid.
“Man, fuck this.” Again, his words came out a little more loudly than he’d expected. What can he say? He was an angry drunk, and under the circumstances, loudly complaining seemed to be the only thing he could do to alleviate his displeasure. Well, apart from harassing the other deities, he supposed. Maybe they’d throw him out if he caused enough of a disruption, and then he could finally, finally get back to his life. “Why do we even have to put up with this shit?”
Unsteadily, he clambered to his feet, irascible, brown eyes darting around the hall like he was looking for someone to sue. There was a brief moment of silence as rows upon rows of gods got herded off for questioning, and Sebastian had to wonder if they were next. Jordan would no doubt be one of the prime suspects - after all, his history with Odin wasn’t exactly sunshine and rainbows. If anyone here had a motive to kill the Allfather, it would be Loki and his children.
Jordan had been leaning quite comfortably against Sebastian, until he stood. Letting out a noise of indignation as he slipped to the side, he glared up at him (“Sorry, cariño,” came Sebastian’s reply, a sheepish grin plastered on his face). The other gods were getting up as well however, and he pushed himself up onto his feet reluctantly, making an unnoticeable adjustment to his clothes. Half-heartedly, he tried to get his hair back in some semblance of neatness, but the wavy strands falling over his face every which way were apparently vehemently against that.
Patting Sebastian’s shoulder clumsily, he attempted to console him somewhat. “C’mon, it won’t be that bad. They probably haven’t even considered you as a suspect. You won’t be kept for very long.”
Sebastian just snorted, looking at Jordan like he’d just grown a second head. “Yeah, well, can’t say the same for you. You’ve got a target painted right on your back. Maybe we can get out of here without anyone noticing… or maybe just find some mead. I’m not nearly drunk enough for this.”
As soon as the words left his mouth, Sebastian wandered off in a seemingly random direction, and he waved Jordan over with a vague hand gesture. If he wanted to drink himself into a stupor, then he was going to drink himself into a stupor. The death of a trillion stars wasn’t going to stop him from getting absolutely shitfaced - in fact, it was an amazing reason to get shitfaced. You know, to drown his sorrows, and all that.
“How well do you know your way around here?” He questioned, leaning in a little too closely, a conspiratorial arm slung around Jordan’s shoulders.
To be perfectly frank, Jordan had only the vaguest memories of Asgard. And none of them were located anywhere near these halls. The only thing that was familiar at all, was how goddamn shiny everything was, and just how many pillars were scattered all over the place. And weren’t those a Greek thing anyway? But he nodded, grinned, and pulled him off in a direction that was vaguely (not at all) familiar.
It wasn’t too long before they were lost.
He could still hear the voices of the other gods, but he didn’t have a clue about how to get back. And it was dimmer here, the light not as bright as it had been in the hall, and he supposed they were probably using up all the electricity they had to put on that show with the ceiling anyway. Turning to face Sebastian, he rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly.
“I may or may not have lied when I said that I knew my way around?”
Sebastian’s lips were pressed into a thin line as he eyed Jordan with some measure of impatience, but after a quick glance at the winding hallways of Asgard, he came to the conclusion that getting lost here probably happened far too much for comfort. It all looked the same to him - towering marble pillars and golden floors - and Jesus Christ, the money they must’ve spent on upkeep alone.
“I think I came to the realisation about five minutes back. Thank you, Jordan.” Sebastian declared, a long, heaving sigh bubbling up from his lungs. The fact must’ve been exceedingly obvious to Jordan, seeing as how he was the one who got them into this predicament in the first place, but the look in Sebastian’s eyes, that was a different story entirely, near-unnoticeable in the dim lighting. Somehow, they’d managed to slip past the ever-watchful Athena, though that was probably due to the distraction wrangling a couple dozen gods warranted. But now that they found themselves alone, a familiar idea, much like the one from earlier, popped into his head. “I think we’ve got some time before anyone finds us.”
With a quick stride forwards, he had Jordan pinned up against the wall, fingers lightly brushing against his jaw. For a moment, he didn’t do anything besides stand there, close enough to Jordan that he could feel his breath on his skin. His companion looked a far cry from how he did earlier that evening; cheeks flushed, clothes rumpled, and his immaculately styled hair even more so. Sebastian would be lying if he said he didn’t find the entire thing incredibly attractive, and his next words came out in a suggestive rumble, lips curling into a smirk. “Now, where were we?”
Jordan’s eyes slanted dangerously and a grin of his own danced on his lips. “Think I might forget if you don’t hurry up.” He punctuated that by leaning forward and pressing their lips together hungrily, hands running up Sebastian's face and into his tangled mop of hair once more. Pushed back onto the wall again, he grinned, feeling the chill seep into his back. And if his teeth were just a little sharper, or if his tongue felt like it was forked, well… Sebastian wasn’t freaking out about it.
Sebastian kissed back with fervour, and he barely noticed the teeth until he pulled away to catch his breath, a drop of blood starting to bead on his lower lip. For a moment, he paused, tongue swiping out to taste the dark, crimson fluid. His arms were still wrapped tightly around Jordan’s waist when he surged forward once again, this time, going for the throat. He pressed his lips against the rapid beating of Jordan’s pulse, kissing a path towards his jaw, teeth scraping skin.
Jordan tipped his head back with a slight exhalation as Sebastian nuzzled his neck, hands moving down from his head to map a path down his back. Then their lips met again, fervent and clumsy. Jordan forgot why exactly they hadn’t done this earlier. The world narrowed down to Sebastian’s hands and mouth and anywhere else they were touching. It was all going so well, until-
“...Oh!”
Unless Jordan’s vocal cords had magically transformed into those of a teenage girl, Sebastian had reason to believe that the exclamation of surprise did not, in fact, come from him. So, it was through process of elimination that he came to the conclusion that there was someone else there with them. It wasn’t that hard to put two and two together, but he had the strangest sense of déjà vu, like this kind of interruption was something that’d already happened today.
Reluctantly, he pulled back, searching for the source of the voice, and surprise, surprise, there the culprit was. A young girl, no older than seventeen, stood in the centre of the hall, eyes wide, mouth formed in an ‘O’ shape; the very picture of scandalised disbelief. Her long golden hair was tied in a braid, reaching down to her small of her back, and her eyes were an alarming shade of blue. It was easy enough to peg her as part of the Norse Pantheon - Iðunn, most likely, judging from her young, girlish features. Sebastian had only met her once or twice, but for all intents and purposes, she seemed nice, much unlike the rest of her kin. Getting interrupted for the second time, however, it pissed him off; and if he ended up ripping her a new one, could you really blame him?
“Who the hell are you?”
The girl let out a squeak of surprise, instinctively shrinking back when Sebastian turned the full intensity of his sullen glare on her. “I-Iðunn.” (He called it.) “You guys can’t be here. Tyr says everyone has to stay in Valhalla till the questioning’s over.”
Jordan turned his head to narrow his eyes at her as well. Really, was the universe dead-set on him getting cockblocked at every turn? He knew Iðunn, well, kind of. She was kinder than most of the gods, although a little vague sometimes. She certainly didn’t like any of Loki’s family however, after that nasty little incident with the giant. As soon as she seemed to realise it was him pressed up against the wall, a more indignant look settled onto her face, and she turned up her nose, the very picture of a prim and proper young lady.
“Anyway, you should get back to the hall and find out what group you’re in.”
Turning on her heel with a sniff, she stalked away, apparently expecting them to follow her like good little kids. Jordan turned his head back to look at Sebastian with one eyebrow raised. Even if the goddess was older than the both of them, she still looked like a child, and he was not going to be seen trailing after her like a lost puppy.
“Are we going to go with her now, or wait for Tyr to come and have a fit about us being gone? I don’t think he’d resort to killing us…” There was nothing funnier than seeing the control-freak god lose it, even if there was a high risk of death attached to it.
Sebastian seemed undecided, gaze flickering back to Jordan from the retreating silhouette of Iðunn. On one hand, he really wanted to get back to that thing they had going, though was it really worth incurring Tyr’s wrath for? He had to admit, the sight of the Norse God blowing a gasket was pretty hilarious, but he preferred to laugh at him while standing safely on the sidelines. There was a lot Tyr could still do, even with a missing hand; and hey, chances were that if they stayed here, they’d only get interrupted again. Getting into Jordan’s pants seemed an exercise in futility, at this point.
“He’s not going to kill us,” Sebastian began, taking care to avoid pinning a ‘probably’ on the end. “But I don’t wanna stay here and find out.”
Jordan let out a sigh but pushed himself off the wall anyway, brushing himself down with the same outcome as the last time he'd done it. Indulging himself with one more kiss before they both had to go back and face interrogation, he pulled away reluctantly. Iðunn was still waiting for them at the end of the corridor, tapping her foot impatiently. It was cute how she seemed to think that she was being authoritative.
He walked up to her, and swept a hand forward mockingly, an obviously fake respectful look on his face.
“Lead on m’lady.”
Soon enough, they found themselves back amidst their so-called brethren. Iðunn seemed to know her way around Asgard like the back of her hand, and Sebastian would almost be impressed if he wasn’t so miffed. Sighing, he plopped himself down on an empty chair, accepting that his mission for the night had ended in complete failure. No mead, no sex, and to top it all off, they still had to hang around this dump for God knows how long. Tyr would doubtlessly flip his shit if anyone else tried to make a quick escape.
“You know,” Sebastian motioned for Jordan to come closer. “You could come to my place after this. If they manage to get everyone processed before the next Ragnarök, anyway.”
Jordan flopped down into his own chair and absentmindedly ran a hand through his hair. That last statement of Sebastian’s was right-in fact, he was surprised that they'd gotten this whole thing together so quickly after Odin’s death. Normally they just held endless meetings and made long winding speeches until everyone was bored out of their minds, even anyone that was actively trying to pay attention. He suspected that Tyr had been about to go out on a tangent at the beginning, but had been cut off quickly by Athena. Smart of her.
“If there's a possibility of us getting out of here any time soon,” not likely “we're definitely going to my place. No offence, but your place is a constant dump.” He did sling an arm over Sebastian’s shoulders to take the edge off the insult however. He thought bitterly that whatever he did say however, they’d find a way to pin the blame on him somehow.
“Wow, low blow.” Sebastian began to explain with a disdainful sniff, though there was no real malice in his voice. “I'll have you know, Mister Perfect, it’s called organized chaos. Everything is right where they need to be.”
Just as quickly as it’d appeared, his expression of annoyance quickly dissolved into one of lazy nonchalance. “But your place is fine too, I guess. ‘Least I don’t gotta clean up afterwards.”
With a one-shouldered shrug, he turned his attention back to the situation at hand, leaning back against his chair. As much as he loathed this interrogation, it seemed as if there was nothing left to do but cooperate. The sooner they could get out of here, the better, and if there was even the slightest chance that this would be over within the next century or two, he wasn’t about to risk prolonging the torture.
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God of Merchants, Travellers, Fertility, and Revenge
Basic Profile
|Name|
Maximón
|Alias(es)|
San Simón, to his worshippers, and before the Spanish Inquisition, he was known simply as Mam, the pan-Mayan term for “grandson” or “grandfather”. In recent years, however, for the sake of blending in with humans, Sebastian Morales has become his alias of choice.
|Gender|
Male
|Sexuality|
Greyromantic Pansexual
|Relationship Status|
Single, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.
|Pantheon/Faith|
Mayan/Folk Catholicism
|Occupation|
On paper, he’s a salesman at a company in Anaheim selling agricultural implements, but off the books, he runs a secret, moonshining business out of his own basement.
|Godly Appearance|
Maximón, in his true form, is rather nondescript. A humanoid figure, tanned skin and dark hair suggest a Hispanic background, but his face is perpetually obscured by a churning curtain of smoke, emanating from the cigar between his lips, like ripples on the surface of a pond. Much like his effigies, he is most often dressed in the style of 18th-century nobles, colourful garlands of summer flowers draped around his neck.
But, of course, the first thing everyone notices is the blood.
Under his clothes, it’s quite a ghastly sight. The flesh around his shoulders and knees are gashed with angry, red lacerations that never seem to heal completely, blood and ichor oozing from the wounds. They were souvenirs from his his transition into his current incarnation, in which he’d gotten ripped limb from limb by a mob of angry husbands. Even the slightest movement causes him no small amount of pain, and his gait often comes off as stiff and mechanical.
|Earthly Appearance|
Maximón looks to be a man of Hispanic roots in his mid to late thirties, olive skin stretched over a tall, leanly muscled frame just a shade off of 6’1”. His hair is dark - thick, curly locks the colour of midnight haphazardly mussed, and when the situation calls for it, teased or slicked back into a pleasing coif. Under his neatly trimmed beard (he’s barely ever clean-shaven), you’ll find a near-constant smirk, full of placid insouciance; revealing his perfectly straight teeth when it inevitably stretches into a grin. The same flippancy can be seen in his eyes - deep, brown orbs forever sparkling with levity, the beginnings of crow’s feet marring their corners.
To say that Maximón dresses to impress would be an understatement He is always immaculately garbed - all dress shirts, and made to measure slacks - even in the most casual of situations. Whenever he’s out in public, you’ll never see him dressed down below the threshold of “smart-casual”, something he accomplishes through sheer force of will, and more tangibly, clearance sales at retail stores. Taking his not-at-all stable income into consideration, it’s almost miraculous that he manages to dress the way he does without digging himself into a bottomless hole of debt.
As is befitting of his drawling, whiskey-fugged persona, Maximón always smells faintly of tobacco, alcohol, and incense. The scent seems to have seeped through his clothes, sticking to his skin like a tattoo, and even scalding hot showers don’t do a thing to get rid of it completely. It’s just as well, he thinks, since he spends most of his free time getting drunk at nightclubs, but more often than not, he finds the whole affair an inconvenience.
Am I?
|Personality|
Maximón isn’t a benevolent god - far from it, actually. To his worshippers, he’s known as a bully, one that demands regular offerings, and their undying piety, lest they incur his wrath. Of course, he is not without any redeeming traits. For all his lies and trickery, he is damned good at what he does, and never makes a promise he does not intend to keep. Depending on which day of the week you catch him on, he can either be your best friend or your worst enemy. To his subjects, he’s always cordial, almost sickeningly sweet, giving them exactly what they want, each and every time they come crawling back.
As for those he has no need of, however, they often find themselves put off by his hostility. Going from Prince Charming to little shit in about two seconds flat is a specialty of his. He doesn't abide by the rules, he doesn't play fairly, and he certainly doesn't let anyone think they can get one up on him. Naturally venomous, aloof, and even distant, he is used to putting on a variety of faces to achieve the means to an end. He won’t hesitate to mock a person’s stupidity and praise it all in one breath. Never assume that what he says is what he truly feels - it’ll be the last thing you ever do.
Interestingly, while he has a rather obnoxious habit of grandstanding, he has very little tolerance of the habit in others. Maximón frequently admonishes others to get to the point. But with a keen wit, a penchant for absurdism, and a horrifyingly macabre streak, you get the sense that Maximón always has a snicker hidden at the corner of his mouth, even if everyone around him is a little afraid to join in. Unlike his kin, however, Maximón isn’t overly confrontational. He’s really no good in a head-on fight, and the only way he can ever hope to win is through underhanded means, which fortunately, is something he has no qualms about.
|Family|
Itzamná - The creator of Maximón and his three brothers. None of them have seen him since their creation, and even after the fall, his whereabouts remain unknown. Any information is scarce, made up of carvings and inscriptions scattered across South America.
Ixchebelyax - Itzamna’s wife, and Maximón’s mother. Much like Itzamna, little is known about her, and she is but a vague memory in Maximón’s mind.
The Bacabs - Maximón’s brothers, literally. All four of them were brought into existence by Itzamna, from the interiors of the earth, and tasked with holding up the four corners of the sky. While they used to be on good terms, the Spanish Inquisition put a stop to it. The four brothers argued for days, weeks, months about what was to become of them, now that Catholicism was beginning to take root in the minds of their people, and when a consensus couldn’t be reached, they ended up parting ways. Maximón hasn’t heard from any of them since, though he often finds himself worrying about what became of his brothers.
Dorado - A fat, ginger cat that spends its days basking in the sun, doing absolutely nothing of value. On a whim, Maximón decided to adopt a cat from a local shelter. Perhaps he’d hoped Dorado would aid him in ridding his home of rodents, but it quickly became evident that the feline was extraordinarily lazy, and now, Maximón finds himself stuck with a furry, whiskered parasite. Of course, he could just throw him out, but he’s developed quite a soft spot for the cat (not that he’d ever admit to anyone).
Finally, the countless children he has fathered. Maximón doesn’t know any of them, and he doesn’t much care to. The day he agrees to pay Child Support is the day the world ends.
|Strengths|
Adaptable
Charismatic
Discreet
Efficient
Shrewd
|Weaknesses|
Amoral
Capricious
Domineering
Egocentric
Indulgent
|Likes|
Tequila
Cigars
Cats
Warm weather
McDonalds
PDA
|Dislikes|
Liars
Winter
Prudes
Vodka
Locusts
Children
|History|
Maximón can barely recall the days prior to the Spanish Inquisition. To the Mayans, he was known as Mam, a facet of the Bacabs, a four-faced god tasked with holding up the corners of the sky. Countless millennia were spent this way, watching the moon rise and fall over the horizon, until Itzamna and Ixchebelyax, with their immense power, created the first humans from a golden field of maize.
As it had been prophesied, the falling of the sky would cause a cosmological upheaval that would bring about the destruction of the world. Maximón and his three brothers never left their stations, but when the first ships landed upon the shores of South America, they knew that things would be changing. The Maya abandoned many of the cities of the central lowlands, or were killed off by famine. A series of prolonged droughts, among other reasons, is thought to have decimated the Maya, who were reliant upon rainfall. Slowly, the Mesoamerican Pantheon faded, losing their influence over the people, replaced by thoughts of saints and martyrs.
Maximón supposed he was one of the lucky ones. Instead of wiping him from existence, the advent of Catholicism changed him into something else entirely. Unlike his brothers, he never was one for letting fate run its course. He found a niche in the villages of rural Guatemala, where poverty and starvation ran rampant. It was easy enough to capitalise on the opportunity - they desired something better, and in exchange for a few offerings, he was more than happy to oblige.
The humans created effigies, crude representations of him made from wood, shrines dedicated to Maximón springing up across the country like toadstools after rain. He had prevented his own demise, and for a while, he was perfectly happy ignoring the ceaseless quarrels of these so-called greater gods. They could’ve torn each other to shreds, and Maximón wouldn’t even have bat an eyelash.
But they just had to drag him into their mess, didn’t they?
Despite his non-involvement, Maximón was strong-armed into giving up his powers after the war. To say that he was angry about it would be a gross understatement. Why did he have to suffer the consequences when he’d stayed neutral? It burned under his skin, the injustice of it all, and his resentment for the gods who caused it grew, day after day.
Still, as much as he wanted to, he couldn’t just sit around all day, sulking. For a long, long time, he was a merchant, travelling from continent to continent upon galleys to trade in spices and fabric. Then, he was a conman. Ease with words had always been something that came naturally to him, and during this time, he earned a sizeable fortune off the naivete of giggling, Victorian heiresses.
The dawn of the 20th century brought Maximón back to the shores of America. Unfortunately for him, however, he soon realised that humans weren’t as stupid as they used to be. He’d gotten used to an extravagant lifestyle, squandering his fortune on things that had simply been given to him centuries ago - cigarettes, booze, and anything else that inhibits the senses. But like any businessman worth his salt, Maximón decided to carve out his own path in the world.
To this day, the moonshine operation that Maximón ran back in the 1920s is still operational, albeit on a much smaller scale. It’s just a little something to supplement the unimpressive commission he earns as a salesman, but recently, he’s been looking to obtain a license to sell his booze topside.
|Opinion on Mortals|
Maximón doesn’t have anything against them, since, you know, they’re the ones who had given him offerings - but this isn’t to say he feels any sort of affection for humans, either. It’s more of a business arrangement than anything; they indulge his vices, and in return, he provides the means to indulge theirs.
|Theme Song|
Lazaretto – Jack White
“My veins are blue and connected
And every single bone in my brain is electric
But I dig ditches like the best of 'em
Yo trabajo duro, como en madera y yeso.”
|Favorite Myth|
The Punishment of Loki
vs. Immortal
|Mortal Skills/Abilities|
To be frank, in his countless years of existence, Maximón hasn’t applied himself all too much. His endeavours are often half-hearted, and he considers giving up halfway to be inevitable. Thus far, the only activities that have managed to capture (and retain) his attention are singing, and playing the guitar. Perhaps it reminds him of home, but he thinks it an asset, as much as it is a hobby. With a few carefully placed arpeggios, it’s almost too easy to enthrall his audience; and while he isn’t the type to whip out his guitar in the middle of a bar for an impromptu rendition of Wonderwall, he can’t say that he doesn’t like the attention.
As is befitting of his patronage, Maximón is a keen businessman. Consequences, both long and short term, never escape his perception. There isn’t a moment he acts without having thought about it twice, and courtesy of his innate ease with words, he always manages to strike up a favourable bargain.
|Immortal Skills/Abilities|
Maximón is known to be a link between Xibalbá (The Underworld) and Corazón del Cielo (The Heart of Heaven). Those in poor health visit his shrines in Guatemala to seek help, and through his priests, Maximón is able to tether their souls to the mortal plane, at least temporarily. When the likes of Anubis or Hades come calling, however, there isn’t much he can do to dissuade them. In the whole scheme of things, he can be said to be one of the weaker deities, and his dominion only extends throughout a portion of South America.
Additionally, Maximón also possesses the ability to bestow good fortune. Those blessed by him find themselves almost infallible, everything seeming to go their way, and for farmers - his most traditional clientele - a bountiful harvest come winter. But keep in mind, this effect isn’t permanent, nor is it all-powerful; walking straight into the path of an oncoming train is still going to turn you into jelly. To earn his favour, one must offer up regular gifts to Maximón in the form of money, alcohol, and cigars - but let it be known from this day forward that he despises the taste of vodka.
“This tastes like a bachelor party gone wrong.”
James Alfero - Janus
“You’ve gotta stop breaking into my house, man. Get your own damn cat.”
He doesn’t know Janus very well, even if he sees more of him than he’d like. A majority of their encounters are rather superficial, with most of them occurring after midnight. Here’s how things usually go: Maximón returns home from a bar with his quarry for the night only to discover a massive, 6’4” man sitting on his living room floor playing with his cat. Of course, his plans are pretty much ruined after that, so he finds himself with plenty of time to chase Janus out of the house.
How does he keep getting in, anyway? Maximón swears that by now, he must’ve changed his locks at least a dozen times.
Umiko Ryudo - Ryūjin
“A little too high-strung for me.”
Maybe it’s how she carries herself, or perhaps it’s the way she talks, but Maximón has always found Ryūjin’s icy demeanour a little tiring to deal with. Even before the fall, the two have never seen eye to eye, and that one time he’d gotten thrown out of her palace for indulging in “unsavory activities” with a servant girl certainly didn’t help things.
Now that they were all on the same level, however, Maximón hopes that she isn’t as uptight as she used to be. You had to let go of the past sometime, and if there’s one thing he couldn’t stand, it was those who took themselves too seriously.
Hadrian Pryde - Hades
“He’s not here, is he?”
Maximón is more than a little scared of Hades. He’s pretty much convinced that the former God of The Underworld is out to get him for prolonging the lives of those that had been due to cross the River Styx. Of course, logic would dictate that the guy probably had better things to do than chase after a lesser deity who centuries ago, saved a relatively insignificant number of lives, but to Maximón, that’s all just a big “what if”. No matter how much he tries to believe that there’s nothing to be afraid of, he still finds himself checking under his bed for Hades.
Amane Mikami - Benzaiten
“Mm? Oh yes, what about her?”
Maximón doesn’t know a whole lot about Benzaiten, though it mostly stems from the fact that they tend to gravitate amongst very different groups of people. Judging from the scarce encounters they have had, however, she has since proven herself pleasant company. All easy smiles and polite small talk - the famous Japanese hospitality, he supposed - but truth be told, he has never found found Benzaiten terribly interesting. While you’d find Maximón doing jello shots in a bar, she seemed the type to spend her Sunday nights at home writing haikus, or something. It was no fault on her part, of course, just that their polarising personalities make it kind of difficult for any meaningful interaction.
Ellen Dove - Aphrodite
“¡Ay, mami, tú tan caliente!”
Maximón’s opinion of Aphrodite is very, very superficial. To anyone with a working eyesight, her beauty is undeniable, and he isn’t ashamed to admit his own physical attraction to her.
Still, he can’t help but feel a little unnerved by her presence. It’s rather hypocritical; that in spite of all his trickery, Maximón hates being lied to. There’s something to be said about Aphrodite’s ability to bewitch even the most prudish of individuals, and the fact that she’s one of the hardest people to read isn’t exactly a comforting thought. He is, however, rather intrigued by her. Her willingness to use her more feminine assets to her advantage is something he can respect.
Hewitt Danford - Huitzilipochtli
“Pinche culero.”
To say the two of them can’t stand each other would be the understatement of the century. Countless years inhabiting the same continent provided ample time for nerves to chafe; their opposing doctrines only seeming to add fuel to the fire.
Maximón thinks that Huitzilipochtli’s whole holier-than-thou shtick is the absolute worst thing about him, with his explosive temper and penchant for violence coming in a close second. Granted, Maximón hasn’t done much in the way of reaching out to Huit, but he’s not sure he wants to risk a broken jaw. It wouldn’t be the first time a conversation with the Aztec God of War turned ugly, that’s for sure.
Andrew Jackley - Anubis
“...Yeah, I don’t think we’re on the best of terms.”
He’ll never admit it, but he’s kinda terrified of the guy. Much like Hades, Anubis used to be in charge of collecting the souls of the dead, and Maximón does not fancy his chances facing off against either of them. He’s willing to wager that all those years he’d spent prolonging the lives of his subjects did nothing to put him in their good books, but it wasn’t his fault that his job came into direct conflict with theirs, was it?
Of course, he hasn’t yet had the misfortune pleasure of encountering him after the fall, so he really has no idea what to expect. For now, the best he can do is cross his fingers, and hope that he has enough foresight to run when Anubis comes to settle a score.
Jordan Natter - Jörmungandr
“Nice threads. Not sure I appreciate the tantrums.”
Jörmungandr’s a pretty cool dude - up until he isn’t, that is. Maximón thinks that hanging out with him is like standing right next to a ticking time-bomb. You don’t know when it’s going to explode, but one thing’s for sure; it’s gonna be ugly - all blood, guts, and shattered bones.
...Okay, so maybe he’s exaggerating, but Jörmungandr has one of the worst tempers known to man, and after being in his company for a while, Maximón can’t help but feel a little skittish. He has seen firsthand the whirlwind of destruction that heralded one of Jörmungandr’s “episodes”, and every single time, he’s glad he wasn’t the target of his rage.
Still, he has to admit, he actually kind of likes the guy when he isn’t flipping out. Jörmungandr’s pragmatism is something he can respect, and hey, where else is he going to find someone who’s willing to go clothes shopping with him?
Regan Macguire - The Morrígan
“She can hold her liquor, I’ll give her that.”
Theirs is a relationship built on a shared love of alcohol, and while one might assume based on first impressions alone that their clashing personalities and backgrounds would cause more than a few problems, the opposite is true. Needless to say, they do have their disagreements every now and then, but who the hell didn’t?
One often finds that their meetings spur a rapidly escalating - sometimes dangerous - series of dares. It’s all in the name of friendly contest, of course, with both of them possessing a clear, competitive streak, though it’s undeniable that they bring out the ‘hormonal adolescent with something to prove’ in each other.
Kora Amaryllis Black - Persephone
“Lighten up, florecita. Life’s too short to worry about commitment.”
Maximón doesn’t know how she stands Huit. Granted, he doesn’t know her very well - partly due to her past association with Hades - but he finds it a little hard to believe that anyone could actually fall in love with the guy. To him, Persephone had always seemed out of her element; a fish out of water, if you will. The Goddess of Spring in The Underworld? One had to admit it sounded like the beginning of a bad joke.
Sable Almasi - Bastet
“Five cats is a little excessive, don't you think?”
Maximón finds Bastet extremely easy to read, and as far as he’s concerned, someone who wears their heart on their sleeve has a special sort of integrity you just can’t say ‘no’ to.
While they’re not technically friends (or maybe they are, he doesn’t really know, to be honest), their occasional conversations go pleasantly enough, with cats and the newest Internet memes being the most common topics of discussion - which is probably the best for everyone involved. Maximón isn’t sure he’s ready to be the target of one of Bastet’s mental-breakdowns-slash-existential-crises.
June Fallon - Nemesis
“Batman? Is that you?
Maximón thinks the whole vigilante thing is a little ridiculous, but they get along well enough. Her brand of dry, sarcastic humour is something he can appreciate, and admittedly, it also helps that she isn’t put off by his rather blunt manner of speech, when he inevitably gets tired of putting up a facade
It’s a comfortable relationship, to say the least, with neither of them expecting too much from the other, and he’s thankful for it. Maximón doesn‘t do friends, but he considers Nemesis to be something close to one.
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The Arrival
One day, maybe you were figuring out how you would afford groceries for your family, maybe you were walking down the street to a job you hate, or maybe you were getting ready to do something extreme anyway; You receive a phone call, a letter, a text. By whatever means, you’re contacted by someone only referring to themselves as Mr. Dust. You have something they need. Whether or not you already have a criminal record, or have the right reputation, you’re told that you are worthy of joining an organization called ‘The Citizens’. You’re given the address of a payphone.
Upon approaching the beat up and surprisingly working phone, it rings. On the other end of the line is the voice of another man. He gives you a second address and you are told not to take a taxi or bring any kind of vehicle.
After arriving at the address given, a warehouse marked ’67- Otto’s Premium Meats’. It’s an old, dilapidated building with the windows boarded up and the front doors chained and padlocked. On the corner of the building is a small cent sign painted in green with an arrow pointing around the side of the building.
Around the corner, in the distance several figures can be seen huddled around burning trash cans scattered across the industrial park. None of them notice you, as you’re just another gray shadow on the landscape. Broken glass crunch beneath your feet as you approach a small side door marked ‘deliveries’. In newer letters next to it but in the same paint: ‘Please knock twice’.
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The Character Sheet
(Make me like your character. No Bland Billies, Mary or Gary Sue’s. Former law enforcement/military/government employee sheets will be heavily scrutinized. Also, delete everything in the parentheses. Bonus points for putting it in a hider for me.)
Real Name:
Alias: (Mr. or Ms. Suffix is the crew theme)
Age: (Preferably in the 21-50 range.)
Physical description: (Pictures and played-by’s allowed as long as its not ridiculous. Just be sure to include height and weight.)
Current Disguise: (Keep it simple for now. Balaclava’s, hockey masks, Halloween masks and such. We’ll get better stuff soon! Also take note that later on we will have to dress professional. Suit and tie! And sometimes in tactical gear. For now anything reasonable is fine.)
Attitude/Personality: (If you dislike putting a personality, at least give me their usual demeanor)
Additional Info: (Optional)
Primary Class:
Secondary Class:
(NOTE: New characters will only be able to join between jobs. No entering in the middle of a firefight, sorry.)
The Blackboard
A simple black chalkboard sitting in the middle of the warehouse, surrounded by a semi-circle of metal folding chairs. This is where Dust marks down any potential jobs he scouts out for the Citizens. They vary in pay and risk, as well as classes needed. Dust will find new jobs as time goes on. Estimated Risk to Reward is a scale of 1 to 100, followed by the estimated cash value gained.
Total Jobs Pulled Off: 0
Total Jobs Botched: 0
The Means
This is a list of equipment the crew has acquired as a whole, including vehicles and auxiliary machinery.
Vehicles:
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3,177
| 71
| 1
| 767
| 96
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Shiloh regarded the door with a downturned lip and a raised eyebrow over a stare of wariness, which was understandable enough considering how She couldn't help but feel like she'd been sent on some wide goose chase. A list of directions scrawled on a napkin, tucked into her pocket at a dive bar, had been the running late white rabbit in this strange tale, the rabbit hole becoming deeper and stranger as those directions led her to a payphone and the hissed instructions in her ear. It was almost theatrical, something Shiloh had read in novels and seen on screens, and almost such a farce that she half didn't expect anything to really come of this weird path she'd allowed herself to wander down.
Yet she had wandered down it, and despite the short kiss of teeth she released at the wide, cold expanse of the industrial park, and the roll of eyes she'd given to the crude sign with the arrow pointing the way, here she was, because Shiloh had been bored, and her interest had been peaked.
Shiloh leaned her upper body back an inch, burrowing her hands deeper inside the pockets of her bomber jacket, and casted her dark-brown eyes up and down the door in front of her, before resting on the sign again, lips twisting into a considering line at the instructions on the face.
Rolling her shoulders back in an almost shrugging motion, Shiloh moved her eyes from the sign to glance around her surroundings, one hand leaving pockets of her jacket and coming up to pull the grey hood of her sweater further down over her head. As she brought her hand down, confident that her decorations were hidden enough, Shiloh snorted in a quick breath through her nostrils and clenched the hand into a fist, bringing it down against the door in one knock. two knock.
She waited for an answer.
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Real Name: Shiloh Pascal
Alias: Ms. Sparks
Age: 27
Physical description: Taking in Shiloh's appearance would make most agree that she'd be safer keeping to the background, having bold features too recognizable to risk being profiled during a job. Standing at a solid 6'1 Shiloh packs a good bulk of muscle, weighing in at 186 lb, that she carries with a confident, though sometimes hunched, gait, allowing her to present an imposing figure if she wishes. Aside from this, Shiloh's most striking feature is the loud and colourful plethora of tattoos decorating her shaved head, each one seemingly disconnected to the other and crafted intricately and with evident talent, the display almost acting as a vibrant helmet. There is a strong definition to her face, oval-shaped with high cheekbones, her nose protuding from her face in a sharp hook, and her keen eyes glimmer with an amused sharpness that suggests she knows something you might not.
Current Disguise: Shiloh favours a simple, practical disguise when out on a job, a simple jeans, shirt and hoodie combo to help her blend into the crowd. Her main concern is covering up her tattoos so she prefers donning a knitted balaclava rather than other masks.
Attitude/Personality: A confident and self-admittedly headstrong individual, Shiloh is quick to assert where she believes she stands in any operation, and will freely give her opinion. She regards most people with a casual and calculating front and her attitude towards people she doesn't consider friends can switch from friendly and open to aggressive and guarded in minutes.
Additional Info: Prone to mood switches, in her youth Shiloh displayed a furious and almost erratic temper which filtered into a true rebellious streak in her late teens, leading her parents to confine her to particular outlets to vent her energy. One of these outlets turned out to be computers, and eventually Shiloh found herself increasingly interested in deconstructing and rewriting code, self-teaching herself through books and open courses online. Discovering a natural talent for the flight of fingers across a keyboard gave Shiloh a solid medium to draw balance from in life, and her attitude towards herself and to others dramatically improved, to the point where she was able to become a fairly successful freelance coder, as well a enter into a marriage with a tattoo artist Hualing, the crafter behind many of the works decorating Shiloh's scalp.
The fall from this high in Shiloh's life came first in the form of the sudden death of her mother, an innocent bystander at a laundrette shooting, a event that tipped Shiloh into a long depressive episode, during which she constantly isolated herself from people. Eventually the episode gave way to a furious period of imbalance, during which Shiloh lashed out at her wife so much that an emotionally exhausted Hualing soon demanded a divorce. It would take a good few more months before Shiloh would be back on her feet, but when she got back up she was determined to make herself stronger, smarter and richer. Using several networks gained through her stint as a freelance coder, Shiloh seamlessly entered into the business of freelance hacking, keen to make a name for herself in the underbelly through whatever means or people she could.
Asides from computers, Shiloh is fairly skilled in linquistics, being fluent in Italian and Modern Hebrew. She enjoys a good strong drink now and then, to unwind she works out or dabbles in mmorpgs.
Primary Class: Tech
Secondary Class: Mule
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3,178
| 71
| 2
| 224
| 81
|
-Redacted due to inactivity of poster-
|
The Character Sheet
(Make me like your character. No Bland Billies, Mary or Gary Sue’s. Former law enforcement/military/government employee sheets will be heavily scrutinized. Also, delete everything in the parentheses. Bonus points for putting it in a hider for me.)
Real Name:
Alias: (Mr. or Ms. Suffix is the crew theme)
Age: (Preferably in the 21-50 range.)
Physical description: (Pictures and played-by’s allowed as long as its not ridiculous. Just be sure to include height and weight.)
Current Disguise: (Keep it simple for now. Balaclava’s, hockey masks, Halloween masks and such. We’ll get better stuff soon! Also take note that later on we will have to dress professional. Suit and tie! And sometimes in tactical gear. For now anything reasonable is fine.)
Attitude/Personality: (If you dislike putting a personality, at least give me their usual demeanor)
Additional Info: (Optional)
Primary Class:
Secondary Class:
(NOTE: New characters will only be able to join between jobs. No entering in the middle of a firefight, sorry.)
The Blackboard
A simple black chalkboard sitting in the middle of the warehouse, surrounded by a semi-circle of metal folding chairs. This is where Dust marks down any potential jobs he scouts out for the Citizens. They vary in pay and risk, as well as classes needed. Dust will find new jobs as time goes on. Estimated Risk to Reward is a scale of 1 to 100, followed by the estimated cash value gained.
Total Jobs Pulled Off: 0
Total Jobs Botched: 0
The Means
This is a list of equipment the crew has acquired as a whole, including vehicles and auxiliary machinery.
Vehicles:
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3,179
| 71
| 3
| 960
| 145
|
Henry walked, a little unsure of himself, through the streets he felt obvious and exposed. The phone had told him to go here and now he was getting nervous. Figures crouched next to barrels of burning refuse eyed him as he passed, he did his best to ignore them. Finally Henry arrived at the large warehouse the sign hanging on it "Ottos' Premium Meats". Ok he thought it's real he worked his way around the side of the building and found the door marked for deliveries.
Why am i doing this? he thought staring at the door. His mind went back to the knock on his apartment door and the envelope slipped under it, the simple directions to the payphone and then the voice telling him to go here. It felt like he had stumbled into a movie and he wasn't hero material. he thought about the last time he had been in trouble, when the police broke up the fights he was in. He had received a black eye and three months for it and he hadn't got paid for the fight. His landlady almost sold his apartment to someone else he was lucky he talked her out of it. now here he was broke and staring at a delivery door of some warhouse.
He cracked a wry smile, Nothing Ventured he thought as he knocked twice on the door Nothing Gained.
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The level of detail you have is very impressive and I look forward to this RP (also do we get the full kit of both our classes?)
Real Name: Henry Laurence Freeman
Alias: Mr.Castle
Age: 30
Physical description:
taken shortly after his first arrest
Height: 5'11
Weight: 230 lbs.
Current Disguise:
He covers his face with an old hockey mask he bought at a pawn shop. He wears his old work jacket and a short sleeved button down shirt with a bulletproof vest between his outer shirt and his undershirt. He usually has a pair of old jeans on that have begun fraying at the ends and on his feet he wears his old work boots.on his hands he wears his worn leather work gloves.
Attitude/Personality:
Henry is a quite man, he always knew he wasn't the brightest or quickest and preferred not to speak if he could. Now this doesn't mean he is stupid just that he likes to let others do the talking while he does the working. He is not unkind and when he becomes used to someone is unafraid to open up and be friends. He has little patience for fast talkers or "Wise-Guys" though as they annoy him.
Additional Info: Henry likes cats and doesn't drink.
Primary Class: Mule
Secondary Class: Wingman
Shopping:
Assault Vest
Ithaca 37 HS
KaBar
$80
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3,180
| 71
| 4
| 224
| 81
|
-Redacted due to inactivity of poster-
|
The Character Sheet
(Make me like your character. No Bland Billies, Mary or Gary Sue’s. Former law enforcement/military/government employee sheets will be heavily scrutinized. Also, delete everything in the parentheses. Bonus points for putting it in a hider for me.)
Real Name:
Alias: (Mr. or Ms. Suffix is the crew theme)
Age: (Preferably in the 21-50 range.)
Physical description: (Pictures and played-by’s allowed as long as its not ridiculous. Just be sure to include height and weight.)
Current Disguise: (Keep it simple for now. Balaclava’s, hockey masks, Halloween masks and such. We’ll get better stuff soon! Also take note that later on we will have to dress professional. Suit and tie! And sometimes in tactical gear. For now anything reasonable is fine.)
Attitude/Personality: (If you dislike putting a personality, at least give me their usual demeanor)
Additional Info: (Optional)
Primary Class:
Secondary Class:
(NOTE: New characters will only be able to join between jobs. No entering in the middle of a firefight, sorry.)
The Blackboard
A simple black chalkboard sitting in the middle of the warehouse, surrounded by a semi-circle of metal folding chairs. This is where Dust marks down any potential jobs he scouts out for the Citizens. They vary in pay and risk, as well as classes needed. Dust will find new jobs as time goes on. Estimated Risk to Reward is a scale of 1 to 100, followed by the estimated cash value gained.
Total Jobs Pulled Off: 0
Total Jobs Botched: 0
The Means
This is a list of equipment the crew has acquired as a whole, including vehicles and auxiliary machinery.
Vehicles:
|
3,181
| 71
| 5
| 1,555
| 550
|
Lin found herself sitting quietly at her favorite Chinese-style tea house. The humble atmosphere was very zen-like and almost made you forget that you lived in a land filled with tyranny. A waitress poured Lin a soft green tea as she contemplated her next move in her investigation of her father's execution. The owner, an elderly Chinese man, was sympathetic towards those that fought against the tyrannical rule of the government, as most of the lower-class citizens were. The owner motioned for the waitress to leave as he sat down across from Lin at the small round table. His expression was kind but Lin knew that he wouldn't have come over if he didn't have something important to tell her. Lin took a sip from her cup and focused her eyes on him.
"De chá yōuyì yīrújìwǎng. Jiàn xiānshēng. (Your tea is excellent as always, Mr. Jian)."
"Xièxiè nǐ, lín. Méiyǒu hěnduō shuí xīnshǎng hǎo chá zhèxiē tiān. (Thank you, Lin. There are not many who appreciate good tea these days.)"
"Shì shénme xīnshì? (Is something on your mind?)"
"Nánrén líkāile zhù wǒ de zhuōzi shàng. Wǒ zhǐ néng jiǎshè zhè duì nǐ. Zhè shì gěi yè nǚshì. (A man left this note on my desk. I can only assume it is for you. It is addressed to Ms. Night.)"
Mr. Jian handed her a sealed note, it had been plainly marked 'Ms. Night', which meant that whoever left the note was probably seeking her employment. Mr. Jian got up and gave her a quick bow as he excused himself. "Qǐng chī de chá. (Please enjoy your tea.)" Lin carefully unsealed the letter and examined the contents. Inside was an invitation to join an organization she had never heard of. The author called himself 'Mr. Dust' and referred to his organization as 'The Citizens'. Indeed this 'Mr. Dust' wanted to hire her and had left an address to a payphone where she would be given instructions to find a meeting place. This level of secrecy wasn't uncommon given that the police were so vigilant in their oppression but it was still very odd to have been contacted in this way by someone she had never met. Clearly this person knew enough about Lin to be certain his message would be received. An opportunity to fund her vendetta had presented itself but what kind of commitment did they expect from her? What would they expect her to do for them? Could she really trust such a mysterious stranger? Who are The Citizens? There was only one way for her to find out. She would have to do as instructed in the letter and meet Mr. Dust for herself.
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I'm most definitely going to be a cat because ninja are awesome. Will post my CS here when it's finished.
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Real Name: Lin Fo Han
Alias: Ms. Night
Age: 24
Physical description:
Height: 5'5''
Weight: 136 lb.
Current Disguise: She uses an opaque black stocking that she cut to length as a balaclava to cover the lower half of her face. The stocking is sewn in to the collar of her black turtleneck shirt that she wears under a tight leather biker jacket. Simple dark jeans, knee-high motorcycle boots and leather riding gloves with hard-padded knuckles complete her ensemble.
Attitude/Personality: Lin is fiercely independent, everything she does is deliberate and brings her closer to her ultimate goal. She rarely engages in conversation and prefers solitude. Trust is not something she is accustomed to and she lacks empathy for those who commit crimes simply for personal gain. Lin is also surprisingly honest about her intentions and almost always speaks bluntly. Lin has purpose and faith in her own abilities but doesn't work well with others.
Additional Info: Lin is a first generation Chinese-Aleghanian citizen and speaks fluent Mandarin as well as the common tongue. She enjoyed a modest living with her father, a low ranking police officer. He always spoke to her about true justice and warned her of the corruption he had seen in the police force as well as the government. He taught her to defend herself, use firearms, and showed her how to be independent as his work kept him away from home a lot. On her nineteenth birthday SWAT officers stormed their apartment and arrested her father. The last time they spoke was at his trial where he told Lin that justice had left this country and he was being framed. He urged her not to let this go unpunished, to find who had framed him and avenge his death. Two weeks later Lin's father was publicly executed for treason, embezzlement, and drug trafficking.
This was the turning point for Lin. Fueled by her anger and a need for revenge, she set out to find the ones responsible for her father's death. She knew that in order for her to find what she was looking for she had to be discreet, and so she honed her skills as a shadow of the night. She found that she had a talent for stealth and made a name for herself as a thief and assassin, all the while searching for any evidence leading to her father's murderer. Eventually she discovered that a member of the police force had orchestrated her father's arrest and subsequent execution as a scapegoat for someone else in the police force. She has yet to uncover any new information beyond that.
Primary Class: Cat
Secondary Class: Sharpshooter
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3,182
| 71
| 6
| 2,756
| 478
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It wasn't uncommon for Shin to be found within the very-most slums of the city, but it wasn't your everyday occurrence either. Those around him knew that as well as the young mercenary did, although he disliked the term 'mercenary' itself. He was a thief through and through, over the years, that much had become evident within his day to day nature. These slums through times passed, were now his home once again. The only good part? Anyone apart of the so called 'law' or so they posed as, never- no. Very rarely entered unto this part of the city. It was the only saving grace for these people, some of which like him. Others simply fighting for survival be it against those upper class snobs as Shin recalled, or one another for scraps of food, scraps that kept these people living.
Still, as of now. That was unimportant. As cruel as it was, and Shin knew that to be so, any others living here were of no importance to him. What was you ask? To find a way so that he, himself could keep on living. Keep on fighting, and the most crucial part of that? To keep on looking too, looking for those that hurt the ones most precious to this young man. Luckily for him, there were those here who spoke his native tongue, not many but a rare few, that in itself was.... well nice. It felt as if he was back home again with talk like that, Shin's head coming to turn to his sudden right coming across another male who appeared quite younger than his own self.
"Shin-san, watashi wa kore o mitsuketa. Sore wa anata no tame no yō ni miemasu." (Shin, I found this. Looks like it's for you.)
"Eh, nandesuka? Sore wa dare karadesu ka?" (Eh, what is? Who's it from?)
"Shiranai. Shikashi, sore wa kokode wa, jūyō-sōda." (Dunno. But it looks important, here.)
"Arigatou." (Thank you.)
A small letter made it's way into his right hand, the other male leaving quickly after with a small respectful bow. On the front read 'For a Mr. Fox', so they knew him by that name? Whoever it was, looked like they had been doing a little digging about what he was up to then, at least that was the first thought to pass Shin's mind anyhow. It wasn't sealed from some of the finer things used by the upper class, as he had spotted on his journeys about the city. It looked rather common actually. Huh. Turning the letter over and taking the paper from within it's small package easily. Chocolate orbs narrowing slightly at what the contents of the letter, and what was being asked of him. Just what on earth did this so called 'Mr. Dust' want with him? One thing was for sure, if this so called organization named 'The Citizens' wanted him, it meant they wanted others as well. Might as well go check it out then, right?
Having headed where he was told all on foot, having lead him to a phone that seemed as if it was centuries old, but still remained in working order. How odd. The voice he had heard upon the other end sounded rather gruff and almost uninterested. But Shin could never tell properly by just a voice, he would have to meet a person face to face to find out. Following the directions given to him, although cautious about this entire situation, the young thief soon came across the warehouse with the number '67' marked onto it's outer frame. Seeing the front locked up tightly, Shin slowly moved forward, hands tucked within his jacket pockets. Although spotting them, he ignored any others within the area, coming to halt at the side door of the building.
Would he ever regret doing this, or coming this far so quickly? Nah. He could regret when he was dead, and seeing as he wasn't just yet. Until then... any being inside would here two tapped out sounds on the side door, that of a rough knocking sound. Twice as requested, time to find out just what this was all about.
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Real Name: Shin Hinomiya
Alias: Mr. Fox
Age: 29
Height: 6'4'
Weight: 172lbs
Current Disguise: Having stolen a Balaclava from a nearby store and slightly modified it, now only covering the bottom half of Shin's face. Normally seen in slightly faded black jeans, grey t-shirt with slight ripped short sleeves and a plain black zip-up jacket atop that with pockets either side. Also wearing thin white leather gloves on both hands, which were also stolen.
Attitude/Personality: Outwardly seen to others as a calm and level headed person, which Shin is to a degree. He is able to change moods at the drop of a hat so to speak, going from laid back and carefree, to seriously and deadly within a matter of moments. Shin seems to adapt to the situations around him and act accordingly, so in a sense no one seems to know this young man for who he truly is. One thing he does hold however is a horrible temper, once irritated enough or pushed to far he will snap and is know for a few various violent acts in the past when having lost his temper previously.
Additional Info: Shin is a first generation Japanese-Aleghanian citizen and speaks fluent Japanese as well as the native tongue. Born within Kyoto, Japan and having moved to his current residence at the age of eighteen. Shin spent most of his life moving from place to place, living rough on the streets of Kyoto from the ages of five till eleven. Then picked up as an orphan until the age of sixteen. By which point he was taken in by a male and female couple, who worked as undercover agents for various jobs across the world. Travelling to the United Provinces of Aleghany for one said mission was the last job ever taken up by the pair. While left alone in a new place with a whole new language as well, Shin spent those following months watching and reading back on how his 'parents' were trained soon self-teaching himself the very same stealth and battle tactics, proving that he had a certain talent with doing so. Although forbidden to do so by his parents, that soon no longer mattered.
At the age of eighteen after a fairly small risk mission, both his mother and farther were killed, leaving Shin alone once again. This was the turning point for the young male, having followed his parents on that very same mission in secret and then having to watch them die before his eyes. Only angered Shin. However, he wasn't given long to adjust to this new twist in life, those same that killed his parents now after him as well. Sending death threats and letters to him on an almost daily basis, having found that these people just wanted no witnesses of what happened that night. Going into hiding as best he could for the next six years, taking what was left of what his adoptive parents gave him, he trained and trained, both from books, video's and what he had seen the pair do. Finding a small amount of peace as the chaos somewhat died down, Shin had reverted to his old ways of stealing and grabbing what he could to survive. After those six years now twenty six and what it seemed to be a new start, Shin made his money as a freelance mercenary and hacker, having found a decent knack for computing over his six years hidden away from others. Three years later now twenty nine, Shin still stays low away from any law enforcement, but also keeping a firm eye out. Looking for the ones that killed the only people that ever seemed to care about him.
Primary Class: Cat
Secondary Class: Tech
Done~
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3,183
| 71
| 7
| 224
| 81
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The scrape of manufactured steel rubbing upon itself could be heard from the other side of the door, followed by the metallic thud of a dead bolt. It was only a fraction of a moment before the industrial door eased open a few inches to reveal half of a clean-shaven face. The man was obviously younger than Shin and yet a strange, weathered determination was clear upon his face. An obvious, almost paranoid glance either way as he stuck his head out from the confines of the warehouse before he eyed Shin up and down. "Mr. Fox. It was a confident statement rather than a question, showing that he clearly knew who Shin was.
"Mr. Grimm." He finally revealed his name. "An associate of Mr. Dust." An already gloved hand appeared as he pushed the door open the rest of the way and extended a greeting. In the front waistband of his jeans jutted the handle of a handgun, though he it was clear he had no intention of using it on Shin..
The greeting would be brief and followed by Mr. Grimm standing aside in order to allow Shin to pass. The interior hallways beyond the doorway was littered with the remains of old crates and cardboard boxes. A light at the end of the hallway opened up onto a warehouse floor. In the center was an old school chalkboard with an older man standing before it, hastily jotting something upon it. Beyond and near the loading dock of the warehouse were a pair of vans. One stood with its back doors open and another man arranging some items very methodically.
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The Character Sheet
(Make me like your character. No Bland Billies, Mary or Gary Sue’s. Former law enforcement/military/government employee sheets will be heavily scrutinized. Also, delete everything in the parentheses. Bonus points for putting it in a hider for me.)
Real Name:
Alias: (Mr. or Ms. Suffix is the crew theme)
Age: (Preferably in the 21-50 range.)
Physical description: (Pictures and played-by’s allowed as long as its not ridiculous. Just be sure to include height and weight.)
Current Disguise: (Keep it simple for now. Balaclava’s, hockey masks, Halloween masks and such. We’ll get better stuff soon! Also take note that later on we will have to dress professional. Suit and tie! And sometimes in tactical gear. For now anything reasonable is fine.)
Attitude/Personality: (If you dislike putting a personality, at least give me their usual demeanor)
Additional Info: (Optional)
Primary Class:
Secondary Class:
(NOTE: New characters will only be able to join between jobs. No entering in the middle of a firefight, sorry.)
The Blackboard
A simple black chalkboard sitting in the middle of the warehouse, surrounded by a semi-circle of metal folding chairs. This is where Dust marks down any potential jobs he scouts out for the Citizens. They vary in pay and risk, as well as classes needed. Dust will find new jobs as time goes on. Estimated Risk to Reward is a scale of 1 to 100, followed by the estimated cash value gained.
Total Jobs Pulled Off: 0
Total Jobs Botched: 0
The Means
This is a list of equipment the crew has acquired as a whole, including vehicles and auxiliary machinery.
Vehicles:
|
3,184
| 71
| 8
| 2,315
| 355
|
Alex was in a friend's car shop, working at a car's engine. As he was doing that his cellphone rang. He quickly wipes his greasy hands and took the cellphone, opening it. On the other end of the line, a voice reffering to himself as Mr. Dust. He tells Max to go to a certain adress where he would find a pay phone and await for another call there. As he ends the conversation and puts the cellphone back in his pocket Alex looks at the owner and his friend at the same time. "Hey Joe, I need to go. I don't know for how long am I gonna stay. See you later okay?" Said Alex as he put his leather coat on and left the car shop as he sat in his car, a red 1979 Pontiac Trans Am, starts the car and drives away.
This car had been in his family for years and it had alot of sentimental value to Alex. Even though there were times when he felt like selling it because he needed the money he couldn't do that. He arrives at the given address and awaits for the payphone to ring. As he was waiting someone approaches with a coin in his hand wanting to make a call but Alex stops him. "Hey not here, i'm expecting a call okay? Come on get lost!" Said Alex as he pushed the man away. The man looks back at him, mumbles something and leavs to find another payphone. "Come on man I don't have all day!" Said Alex as he looked at his watch restless.
Finally the payphone rings and as Alex picks up the reciever putting it against his right ear. On the other end of the line there was another voice that gave Alex another address, telling him to go there. But this time he was told to come on foot and not bring any vehicle with him. As the call ended Alex puts the reciever away, not very happy about the fact that he had to leave his car here. He picks up his cell phone and calls the car shop owner. "Hey Joe, listen. I'm sorry but i'm not gonna be able to return for the rest of the day. Something came up. Can you drop by 21st street and pick up my car please? It's parked next to a beat up payphone. Really? Thanks alot. You're the man! I left the keys on top on the back left wheel. Okay! Bye!"
As he put the cellphone away Alex starts walking on foot towards his destination. He was familiar with the place. He knew where it was. It took him some time to get there, since he was on foot. Normally if he was with his car he would have reached the address in less then 10 minutes. After nearly 30 minutes of walking Alex finally reached the place. An abandoned warehouse in an industrial park, abandoned as well. Whatever business the callers had with him, the entrance certanly wasn't through the front doors as they were all chained and padlocked. He then spots the green painted cent sign with an arrow on the corner of the building pointing. As he follows the arrow to the side of the building Alex sees the side door with the "deliveries" sign. It had the "Please knock twice" sign next to it with new paint in the same color as "deliveries". After looking back at the men who were burning some trash cans Alex does just that. He knocks twice and awaits for something to happen.
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Hello! I would like to participate. If there's still room then my CS is below. If not then ignore it.
Real Name: Alex Petroski
Alias: Mr. Redline
Age: 31
Physical description:
Height: 5'11"
Weight: 182 lbs
Current Disguise: When it comes to his disguise, Alex prefers to dress in regular clothing. A pair of blue jeans, boots, a black t-shirt, a black leather coat over it and a pair of leather gloves on his hands, black as well. His face is covered by a mask representing Richard Nixon.
Attitude/Personality: Alex is usually easy to get along with as he is open-minded, likes to help if someone requests him to and he is not impulsive. However he is hateful and holds grudges. He is confident in himself and always tries to be positive. Alex dosen't talk too much, preffering to get straight to the point. When it comes to women Alex is usually nice and respectful and can tolerate pretty much anything from them.
Additional Info: Alex Petroski is of polish and aleghanian descent. Has a soft spot for women, a passion for cars and speaks both english and polish fluently. He is also a smoker. Alex prefers to stay away from drinking alcohol but he never refuses a beer.
Primary Class: Wheel
Secondary Class: Sharpshooter
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3,185
| 71
| 9
| 2,756
| 478
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A mental sound that made itself known, the young thief didn't make a sound for the time being, simply listening and waiting. Yet wondering just why so much effort had to be made to open such a door, then again, it looked like it was about to fall into a thousand small pieces, and even the thought in itself produced a small smile from Shin. A few spare seconds ticked on by, that same door becoming half open within that time frame. Looking at the man that appeared, or half appeared from the door rather, who appeared to actually be younger than even him glancing about to what he would only assume as checking around the immediate area. A sensible idea if nothing else.
The look he received was only answered with an arched eyebrow from the thief, being eyed up and down by others wasn't normally what he expected, even with all he had seen over the years. But this whole situation was well out of the 'normal' category and more into the 'totally insane and fucked up' one. It quickly became clear that this man knew who he was, or of him at the very least. At the name given, Shin didn't pause to think or speak merely continued to hear this man out until he was done.
Chuckling ever so lightly as the younger male finished, the tall thief took this chance to speak. "More than one of you then I take it?" He asked fluently, as clear as the day. Removing his right own gloved hand from his pocket, returning the offered greeting both firmly and briefly. Well, looked like this would be much more interesting than he had first ever thought it would be. It was a thief's habit by nature to always check around for ways out, as well as who had what on them. Of course, Shin being Shin. He wasn't stupid, far from it actually, apparently he had first been noticed by 'those two' for his brain power. At least that's what he was told, not that he believed it really. Total bull naturally.
As such when he'd glanced at the male that let him in, sure he had a handgun on him, thus causing Shin to make a brief mental note. Not to try and anger anyone here, at least until he was properly armed anyhow. Strolling passed this 'Mr. Grimm' and further into the building or rather into the main part of the building, having had to duck his head to get past the entrance door, due to his rather imposing height at that. The young thief took this chance to look around, one van at the back shut, another being arranged and stocked. Looked like the only other possible exit, lovely. Hands still in his jacket pockets, Shin casually moved forward towards the old blackboard where another male stood, now simply stopping mid way to allow a proper glance around. Letting out a small whistle, it wasn't much but for as far as he could see what three people alone? It certainly wasn't bad at all, so for now, it seemed everyone here would have to make do including him. Now that was something the young thief was used to.
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Real Name: Shin Hinomiya
Alias: Mr. Fox
Age: 29
Height: 6'4'
Weight: 172lbs
Current Disguise: Having stolen a Balaclava from a nearby store and slightly modified it, now only covering the bottom half of Shin's face. Normally seen in slightly faded black jeans, grey t-shirt with slight ripped short sleeves and a plain black zip-up jacket atop that with pockets either side. Also wearing thin white leather gloves on both hands, which were also stolen.
Attitude/Personality: Outwardly seen to others as a calm and level headed person, which Shin is to a degree. He is able to change moods at the drop of a hat so to speak, going from laid back and carefree, to seriously and deadly within a matter of moments. Shin seems to adapt to the situations around him and act accordingly, so in a sense no one seems to know this young man for who he truly is. One thing he does hold however is a horrible temper, once irritated enough or pushed to far he will snap and is know for a few various violent acts in the past when having lost his temper previously.
Additional Info: Shin is a first generation Japanese-Aleghanian citizen and speaks fluent Japanese as well as the native tongue. Born within Kyoto, Japan and having moved to his current residence at the age of eighteen. Shin spent most of his life moving from place to place, living rough on the streets of Kyoto from the ages of five till eleven. Then picked up as an orphan until the age of sixteen. By which point he was taken in by a male and female couple, who worked as undercover agents for various jobs across the world. Travelling to the United Provinces of Aleghany for one said mission was the last job ever taken up by the pair. While left alone in a new place with a whole new language as well, Shin spent those following months watching and reading back on how his 'parents' were trained soon self-teaching himself the very same stealth and battle tactics, proving that he had a certain talent with doing so. Although forbidden to do so by his parents, that soon no longer mattered.
At the age of eighteen after a fairly small risk mission, both his mother and farther were killed, leaving Shin alone once again. This was the turning point for the young male, having followed his parents on that very same mission in secret and then having to watch them die before his eyes. Only angered Shin. However, he wasn't given long to adjust to this new twist in life, those same that killed his parents now after him as well. Sending death threats and letters to him on an almost daily basis, having found that these people just wanted no witnesses of what happened that night. Going into hiding as best he could for the next six years, taking what was left of what his adoptive parents gave him, he trained and trained, both from books, video's and what he had seen the pair do. Finding a small amount of peace as the chaos somewhat died down, Shin had reverted to his old ways of stealing and grabbing what he could to survive. After those six years now twenty six and what it seemed to be a new start, Shin made his money as a freelance mercenary and hacker, having found a decent knack for computing over his six years hidden away from others. Three years later now twenty nine, Shin still stays low away from any law enforcement, but also keeping a firm eye out. Looking for the ones that killed the only people that ever seemed to care about him.
Primary Class: Cat
Secondary Class: Tech
Done~
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3,186
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| 10
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Grimm watched as Fox casually wandered down the hall and onto the former work floor towards Dust and his blackboard. It was clear by his eyes that the man had a thought process he didn't like to reveal to others. Stopping to lean in the doorway at the end of the hall, he watched the man almost pompously take in the surroundings. Grimm couldn't tell if this man was trustworthy yet and hoped his faith in Dust's contacts and vetting abilities was well placed. Whether or not he liked or disliked one of the people summoned to this place didn't matter. As long as they were willing to become a part of the cause, he was certain Dust would sort out the rest.
-
Turning upon hearing the whistle, Dust's face showed an entire lack of emotion as his eyes met Fox's. Removing an unlit cigar from his mouth and clearing his throat, he took a measured step toward the man. "Tell me, Mr. Fox. Do you know any good jokes? The weathered man rolled a piece of chalk slowly in in between the fingers of his left hand as his voice echoed slightly throughout the warehouse.
-
-Redacted due to inactivity of poster-
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The Character Sheet
(Make me like your character. No Bland Billies, Mary or Gary Sue’s. Former law enforcement/military/government employee sheets will be heavily scrutinized. Also, delete everything in the parentheses. Bonus points for putting it in a hider for me.)
Real Name:
Alias: (Mr. or Ms. Suffix is the crew theme)
Age: (Preferably in the 21-50 range.)
Physical description: (Pictures and played-by’s allowed as long as its not ridiculous. Just be sure to include height and weight.)
Current Disguise: (Keep it simple for now. Balaclava’s, hockey masks, Halloween masks and such. We’ll get better stuff soon! Also take note that later on we will have to dress professional. Suit and tie! And sometimes in tactical gear. For now anything reasonable is fine.)
Attitude/Personality: (If you dislike putting a personality, at least give me their usual demeanor)
Additional Info: (Optional)
Primary Class:
Secondary Class:
(NOTE: New characters will only be able to join between jobs. No entering in the middle of a firefight, sorry.)
The Blackboard
A simple black chalkboard sitting in the middle of the warehouse, surrounded by a semi-circle of metal folding chairs. This is where Dust marks down any potential jobs he scouts out for the Citizens. They vary in pay and risk, as well as classes needed. Dust will find new jobs as time goes on. Estimated Risk to Reward is a scale of 1 to 100, followed by the estimated cash value gained.
Total Jobs Pulled Off: 0
Total Jobs Botched: 0
The Means
This is a list of equipment the crew has acquired as a whole, including vehicles and auxiliary machinery.
Vehicles:
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3,187
| 71
| 11
| 2,756
| 478
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It was if he had a sixth sense, maybe so. But Shin could already feel himself being watched, and as far as he knew there was only one person a way behind him. He didn't blame anyone here if they were and or ever became suspicious of him or what he did or didn't do. That was his own choice, what he did was for his own goal. Apart from that, he didn't really have all that much reason to keep going, unless of course between now and then he found some other reason for living. But that thought was just a pipe dream, highly wishful thinking if you will. Nothing else to it, but it did make him wonder. If there were others who wanted a chance like this far more than he did, then why were they not here already? Or maybe he was just exceptionally early, either that or everyone else was late.
Despite highly doubting his latter statement, his mind was soon turned to other matters. Although the whistle he produced was only small, it seemed to echo within the warehouse, not really his idea behind it. Oh well. Turning his head in the direction of the male that spoke, said male's expression void of almost any emotion. How very strange, and interesting no doubt. Shin could only assume this to be the man that has summoned him, and most likely others here known as a 'Mr. Dust". After all, he saw no other as imposing as the man a few paces away from him. At least, compared to most he was, still, luckily and rather nicely for the tall thief, he still stood above the man.
The measured step forward, sure he noticed it. However, at the current moment it was of little importance. Thinking at the question put to him for a brief few seconds, the thief soon looked once again towards the man before him, a small grin tugging at his expression all the while. "Jokes? None that I can recall of, Mr. Dust. If that is the name you go by of course, or am I adressing the wrong person here?" Shin answered his tone both calm and collected, a seemingly light air about his reply. A small smile still remaining on his face as he finished, hands still within his pockets.
His attention distracted once again by the opening of the door he came from, tilting his head backwards to look upside down. Only to see another at the entryway, how nice. More company. Even from doing just that, it was clear that the young man was very flexible for his age at least, returning his gaze quickly back to the man before him. After all, he wanted to see if his assumption on the matter was correct, he was rarely wrong and that meant it was always a nice way to pass the time.
|
Real Name: Shin Hinomiya
Alias: Mr. Fox
Age: 29
Height: 6'4'
Weight: 172lbs
Current Disguise: Having stolen a Balaclava from a nearby store and slightly modified it, now only covering the bottom half of Shin's face. Normally seen in slightly faded black jeans, grey t-shirt with slight ripped short sleeves and a plain black zip-up jacket atop that with pockets either side. Also wearing thin white leather gloves on both hands, which were also stolen.
Attitude/Personality: Outwardly seen to others as a calm and level headed person, which Shin is to a degree. He is able to change moods at the drop of a hat so to speak, going from laid back and carefree, to seriously and deadly within a matter of moments. Shin seems to adapt to the situations around him and act accordingly, so in a sense no one seems to know this young man for who he truly is. One thing he does hold however is a horrible temper, once irritated enough or pushed to far he will snap and is know for a few various violent acts in the past when having lost his temper previously.
Additional Info: Shin is a first generation Japanese-Aleghanian citizen and speaks fluent Japanese as well as the native tongue. Born within Kyoto, Japan and having moved to his current residence at the age of eighteen. Shin spent most of his life moving from place to place, living rough on the streets of Kyoto from the ages of five till eleven. Then picked up as an orphan until the age of sixteen. By which point he was taken in by a male and female couple, who worked as undercover agents for various jobs across the world. Travelling to the United Provinces of Aleghany for one said mission was the last job ever taken up by the pair. While left alone in a new place with a whole new language as well, Shin spent those following months watching and reading back on how his 'parents' were trained soon self-teaching himself the very same stealth and battle tactics, proving that he had a certain talent with doing so. Although forbidden to do so by his parents, that soon no longer mattered.
At the age of eighteen after a fairly small risk mission, both his mother and farther were killed, leaving Shin alone once again. This was the turning point for the young male, having followed his parents on that very same mission in secret and then having to watch them die before his eyes. Only angered Shin. However, he wasn't given long to adjust to this new twist in life, those same that killed his parents now after him as well. Sending death threats and letters to him on an almost daily basis, having found that these people just wanted no witnesses of what happened that night. Going into hiding as best he could for the next six years, taking what was left of what his adoptive parents gave him, he trained and trained, both from books, video's and what he had seen the pair do. Finding a small amount of peace as the chaos somewhat died down, Shin had reverted to his old ways of stealing and grabbing what he could to survive. After those six years now twenty six and what it seemed to be a new start, Shin made his money as a freelance mercenary and hacker, having found a decent knack for computing over his six years hidden away from others. Three years later now twenty nine, Shin still stays low away from any law enforcement, but also keeping a firm eye out. Looking for the ones that killed the only people that ever seemed to care about him.
Primary Class: Cat
Secondary Class: Tech
Done~
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3,188
| 71
| 12
| 1,555
| 550
|
Lin continued on her way to the place she currently called home. It was a good distance from the tea house even on her newly 'acquired' sports bike. It wasp th garage an older model Honda with an all-black paint job, it seemed to suit Lin just fine. She rode to an abandoned parking complex which now acted as a sort of hotel for the homeless, just behind it was an old mechanic's garage which Lin had been using as her own. It was here that she stored most of her things as it was a very secure location and far enough out of sight that you could easily miss it if you didn't know where to look. She quickly locked up her bike and headed out once again for the payphone mentioned in the letter from Mr. Dust.
The address mentioned in the letter was about twelve blocks from Lin's garage so the walk wouldn't be long. When she finally reached the right street she could see a lone payphone. It was clearly old and decrepit but it rang as she approached. Lin stood before the ringing phone for a moment and checked her surroundings. After the third ring she picked up the phone and a man spoke tersely, he gave the address of the meeting place and hung up.
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I'm most definitely going to be a cat because ninja are awesome. Will post my CS here when it's finished.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Real Name: Lin Fo Han
Alias: Ms. Night
Age: 24
Physical description:
Height: 5'5''
Weight: 136 lb.
Current Disguise: She uses an opaque black stocking that she cut to length as a balaclava to cover the lower half of her face. The stocking is sewn in to the collar of her black turtleneck shirt that she wears under a tight leather biker jacket. Simple dark jeans, knee-high motorcycle boots and leather riding gloves with hard-padded knuckles complete her ensemble.
Attitude/Personality: Lin is fiercely independent, everything she does is deliberate and brings her closer to her ultimate goal. She rarely engages in conversation and prefers solitude. Trust is not something she is accustomed to and she lacks empathy for those who commit crimes simply for personal gain. Lin is also surprisingly honest about her intentions and almost always speaks bluntly. Lin has purpose and faith in her own abilities but doesn't work well with others.
Additional Info: Lin is a first generation Chinese-Aleghanian citizen and speaks fluent Mandarin as well as the common tongue. She enjoyed a modest living with her father, a low ranking police officer. He always spoke to her about true justice and warned her of the corruption he had seen in the police force as well as the government. He taught her to defend herself, use firearms, and showed her how to be independent as his work kept him away from home a lot. On her nineteenth birthday SWAT officers stormed their apartment and arrested her father. The last time they spoke was at his trial where he told Lin that justice had left this country and he was being framed. He urged her not to let this go unpunished, to find who had framed him and avenge his death. Two weeks later Lin's father was publicly executed for treason, embezzlement, and drug trafficking.
This was the turning point for Lin. Fueled by her anger and a need for revenge, she set out to find the ones responsible for her father's death. She knew that in order for her to find what she was looking for she had to be discreet, and so she honed her skills as a shadow of the night. She found that she had a talent for stealth and made a name for herself as a thief and assassin, all the while searching for any evidence leading to her father's murderer. Eventually she discovered that a member of the police force had orchestrated her father's arrest and subsequent execution as a scapegoat for someone else in the police force. She has yet to uncover any new information beyond that.
Primary Class: Cat
Secondary Class: Sharpshooter
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3,189
| 71
| 13
| 2,398
| 31
|
Matthew rode down the almost empty street, shivering with the bitter cold of the dawn. This was two days after a mysterious encrypted and anonymous message manifested itself in his inbox. Decrypting it and perusing the contents was short work for him- but what struck him were the implications. Evidently his reputation preceded him, and an as of yet unknown criminal organisation was attempting to put him under their employ. He would have preferred to stay freelance, deciding himself on his tasks, and carrying them out at his leisure. But times were getting harder. Freelance jobs were scarce, and he could barely pay the bills, let alone keep his equipment running and his ride fuelled.
As the wheels span at an ever increasing pace, leaves and scraps of paper were kicked up and billowed in the wind. Passing only a few huddled in corners or peering at him from behind blinds, he paid no heed to others. At last, rounding a sharp corner into an even tighter alley, he came across piles of rubbish, crates- and a solitary, almost out of place telephone booth. Though the surroundings were suspicious to say the least, his intuition told him that it was safe. Relatively. Dismounting from his bike with a quick glance to ensure that there was no one around, he calmly strode over to the phone. As soon as he entered the booth and closed the door behind him, the familiar shrill tone began to sound. Lifting the headpiece from the board, a surprisingly crisp and clear man's voice sounded out from the phone. 'Warehouse 67. Bring no one.' Then it was abruptly cut off. Filled with apprehension, Matt left the payphone, walked with a steady gait back to his bike, and mounted up. Now- to meet his imminent fate, whatever it may be.
|
In a spoiler box as requested.
Real Name : Matthew Veselý
Alias : Mr. Swift
Age : 24
Physical Description : Matt has short, tightly cropped dark brown hair combed to one side. His eyes are piercing green, and constantly shifting as if looking for some new threat. He is lank and just above average height at 6"2', though not at all imposing as he is of a rather slim build, weighing in at 180 lbs, surprising considering his height. His skin is somewhat pale, and he could be better described as wiry rather than all-out muscular.
Current Disguise : When on heists, he wears a knee-length trench coat with ample pockets and straps on the inside for weaponry and equipment. Underneath this is a thick dark tunic and trousers, along with tall, metal-toed combat boots. His outfit wouldn't be complete without the black leather gloves he wears to conceal finger prints. A pair of rectangular-lensed sunglasses hides his eyes.
Attitude / Personality : He is very cynical and mistrusting of all authority. Most of the time he is seen as quiet and calculating, and is extremely intelligent and analytical. His sense of humour could be described as sarcastic at best. Possessing mild psychopathic traits, he feels little empathy or attachment for others. He is also very anti-social, preferring to be alone rather than in the company of others. With the few, if any, friends he has he can be trustworthy and straightforward. He has little respect for established conventions and would rather do things his own way than follow all orders to the letter.
Additional Info : Though his father was Aleghanian, his mother was Czech and he was brought up bilingual in both tongues. Currently, he has no known living family, and lives alone in a decrepit apartment on the outskirts of the city. He works as a freelance hacker to support himself, and is proficient in multiple programming languages and firewall cracking. The funds come from him 'leaking' corporate information to individuals willing to pay- revelling in the prospect of taking revenge on the plutocracy.
Primary Class : Tech
Secondary Class : Sharpshooter
(Sorry if the character isn't up to par. I'll make any amendments required of me. Please, have mercy!)
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3,190
| 71
| 14
| 224
| 81
|
-Reserved for new intro-
|
The Character Sheet
(Make me like your character. No Bland Billies, Mary or Gary Sue’s. Former law enforcement/military/government employee sheets will be heavily scrutinized. Also, delete everything in the parentheses. Bonus points for putting it in a hider for me.)
Real Name:
Alias: (Mr. or Ms. Suffix is the crew theme)
Age: (Preferably in the 21-50 range.)
Physical description: (Pictures and played-by’s allowed as long as its not ridiculous. Just be sure to include height and weight.)
Current Disguise: (Keep it simple for now. Balaclava’s, hockey masks, Halloween masks and such. We’ll get better stuff soon! Also take note that later on we will have to dress professional. Suit and tie! And sometimes in tactical gear. For now anything reasonable is fine.)
Attitude/Personality: (If you dislike putting a personality, at least give me their usual demeanor)
Additional Info: (Optional)
Primary Class:
Secondary Class:
(NOTE: New characters will only be able to join between jobs. No entering in the middle of a firefight, sorry.)
The Blackboard
A simple black chalkboard sitting in the middle of the warehouse, surrounded by a semi-circle of metal folding chairs. This is where Dust marks down any potential jobs he scouts out for the Citizens. They vary in pay and risk, as well as classes needed. Dust will find new jobs as time goes on. Estimated Risk to Reward is a scale of 1 to 100, followed by the estimated cash value gained.
Total Jobs Pulled Off: 0
Total Jobs Botched: 0
The Means
This is a list of equipment the crew has acquired as a whole, including vehicles and auxiliary machinery.
Vehicles:
|
3,191
| 72
| 0
| 2,348
| 2,332
|
Anastasia-The Awakening of the Crew
The spacecraft shuttered, one wing was blown off and the other hadn't fared very well either. The sputters shook the ship to and fro, causing Anastasia to grip the controls tighter. Her fear was one of not being able to reach the ship she learned about earlier, the one that could help her out. She pulled out a small tablet and started to record her voice in her accent as the ideas came to her.
The year is 2305. I am making this from my ship. I am on the run from what I assume are pirates. They are pursuing me endlessly. If I make it out of this, there is only one palce to go for this message to make effect. Here it is. Humanity has fallen. Yet, it was not another race that caused this. In fact, none know how this has happened. What is known is that the collapse happened suddenly. In only five years, What once was a great shining beacon of honor is now a rusted husk of what was. what little remains left of the human race is either on shattered space stations or left on broken colonies. There is no more civilization for humanity. There is no technology. Only the ability to wait and die.
She put the tablet away again. The planet shifted into view. A big blue planet from the surface, an icy world. Looking eerily similar to her homelands, she prepared to land. Unfortunately her plans wouldn't work out. The second wing fell off, giving her no control. as the ship started burning in the atmosphere, the plates of it fell off. bits came off, flying down to the land below, causing the pristine beauty to become a dump. It was time to jump. Kicking off the glass cockpit cover with her metal legs, she rocketed out, bracing for impact below. Her legs landed, cratering her landing zone and causing more destruction. She limped towards the ship, her breathing ragged. Before reaching the door, her left robotic arm fell off, lying in the snow to spark and smoke. It twitched like a bug, and with one final look, she turned to go into the ship.
Inside was a breath of fresh air. She made her way to the cryo chambers, and burst the door open. She slammed the button to release whoever. She didn't care, as long as someone was awake. Running out of breath, she slid down the wall, tearing open her uniform to look at the injuries she sustained. Two shots to the chest, both through her right lung. The burn scars were obvious. The hiss of the chamber opening caught her attention, and she looked up. She slid the data tablet towards the new person, her remaining arm and legs still sparking.
"Listen to it." She commanded, uncaring of whether it was the captain or not.
|
Name (& pronunciation): Anastasia
Date of Birth (& age): 2280, 25 years old
Place of Birth: Russia
Gender: Female
Species:Human
Height: 195 cm, 6'5"
Weight: 200 lbs, 92 kg
Personality:Anastasia is a very serious person, not allowing crew to fall off track and get distracted. She makes sure everyone does their duty and not get lazy about work.
Likes: Battle, Work, Her homeland.
Dislikes: Slackers, people who abandon their loyalties.
Ambitions: To find out the cause of humanity's impending extinction.
Strengths: Her melee skills, Ship weapons.
Weaknesses: Accusations of being disloyal, her strict code of conduct.
Fears: Not achieving her goals, being accused of being weaker for being a female.
Interests: nothing.
History:Anastasia is the only female in the Earth based Super Soldier Program, being elected by the higher ups in the Russian military. She was laughed at all through training, but earned everyone's respect and honor simply through her hard work alone.
Romance: (Yes or No)
If so, sexual preference: Bisexual.
Military Rank: Rogue Agent
If not military rank, what is your role on the ship:
Combat Skills:Melee, energy blasts.
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3,192
| 72
| 1
| 859
| 1,661
|
Teige
How cold it was. Teige's leaves shivered and she clenched her jaw tight. She opened her eyes and was greeted with the sight of darkness. She could see nothing, and her eyes stung. Then it came to her ears--The sound of gears moving and clanking metal. It was faint at first, but as she recovered her senses, it got clearer. Eventually, her cryogenic pod tilted to an angle, the liquid that filled it was drained and the lid slid open with a hiss.
Teige saw everything white. She tried to make a sound but instead gagged and doubled over, dropping out of her pod and onto the cold floor. For a moment, she lied there. Then she pushed herself up, legs wobbling and head spinning.
At the chamber's entrance, she saw a strange figure--A tall figure, with a missing arm. The figure distantly smelled of human female along with blood, smoke and metal. Teige remembered no human like that. She reached for her handgun--It wasn't there. Right- Cryogenics. She thought, and was surprised when the figure slid her a tablet and ordered her to listen to the recording in it.
Again, Teige attempted to speak, but was cut off by a fit of coughing, expelling the last of the pod's liquid onto the floor.
After recovering, she grabbed the tablet with weak arms, and played the recording.
The year is 2305. I am making this from my ship. I am on the run from what I assume are pirates. They are pursuing me endlessly. If I make it out of this, there is only one palce to go for this message to make effect. Here it is. Humanity has fallen. Yet, it was not another race that caused this. In fact, none know how this has happened. What is known is that the collapse happened suddenly. In only five years, What once was a great shining beacon of honor is now a rusted husk of what was. what little remains left of the human race is either on shattered space stations or left on broken colonies. There is no more civilization for humanity. There is no technology. Only the ability to wait and die.
Teige prickled her leaves and brought her gaze to rest on the figure before her. "Is this..." She began in a hoarse voice, coughed and straightened her back, leaning on her pod's console for support, "Is this true?"
|
Name (& pronunciation):
Teige (Teh-ish)
Date of Awakening (& age):
November of 2018 according to the Human calendar, She's 287 years old.
Place of Birth:
The Foreas' home planet, The Homeplanet.
Gender:
Female.
Species:
Foreas.
Height:
164 centimetres, 5'5 approximately.
Weight:
110 pounds.
Appearance:
She's a slender Foreas of average height and weight. Her leaves are all colored a bright orange-ish red. Her skin's mostly white with some soft gradation of the orange-ish red on her joints and spine.
Due to Human Navy regulations, she is often seen wearing a lightly coloured dress made of leaves when out of duty and a standard crew uniform when in duty. When she's cooking, she'll wear and use all kinds of protective gear to make sure the food is as clean as possible.
Personality:
Throughout her life in the Homeplanet, Teige was always taught to be kind to life, to be silent and to be curious. The silence part came easy. It came easy to all Foreas, the curiosity was not only easy, it was impossible for her to turn it off. And the kindness was difficult to learn and difficult to put in practice but she tackled it in the end.
But even with her kindness, she was never able to bring herself to easily trust the beings made of meat and bone. She heard stories and she experienced the memories of the dead. The destructive nature of fleshlings scared her, it terrified her in fact. The thought of losing her and her planet's beauty to the wild actions of fleshling aliens was one that often had her awake and wandering at night. She'd always bottle it up when she was around the aliens, hide it under her leaves, as they said, but sometimes a fleshling would get too close and she would have no choice but to push them away, often forcefully.
She feels lonely on the ship. With no other Foreas around and not much to do that fits her open-air lifestyle, she feels bored too. Spending her free time in the Hydroponics chamber probably doesn't help matters, either, as it reminds her of the Homeplanet and its luscious plantlife and greenery.
Likes:
- Plants.
- Exploration.
- The unknown.
- Extreme sports.
- Socializing.
Dislikes:
- Scarabs.
- Closed spaces.
- Ignorance.
- Places with no plants.
Ambitions:
- To build memories and experiences worthy of being brought back to the Tree.
- To ensure the safety of the Foreas through identifying dangers before they arrive at the Homeplanet.
Strengths:
- As an Exploronaut, she's received personal training from the top brass of the Awoken Priests. She can fully control her emotions.
- Her time as a renowned Navy Chef helped her build her already exceptional communications skills, she takes pride in being liked by nearly everyone she meets.
- She needs no food and she can live comfortably with only incandescent light and water.
- She breathes in carbon dioxide.
- Her decade long Exploronaut training ensured she's at the top of her abilities. She's fast, agile, flexible and most important of all, she can endure hours of intense physical activity such as climbing without needing long rest periods.
Weaknesses:
- She's not strong. At all. While she might be able to take someone down with her fists, she can't carry much weight or move very heavy things.
- Deprive her of incandescent light for a day and she'll grow tired, take light away for two weeks and she'll die.
- She isn't accustomed to taking another sentient being's life.
SPARK MANDRILL
Fears:
- The unknown.
- Beings with a history of being violent such as humans or scarabs.
- Dark places.
- Amnesia.
Interests:
- The unnamed (species).
- Foreign cultures.
- Ruins and abandoned locations.
- Everything else to a lesser extent.
History:
Like all Foreas, Teige emerged out of her pod at the beginning of Spring back in the Homeplanet. She was found by a patrolling Caretaker, who took her and the other saplings to the local School, to immediately begin their education. It wasn't until her fifth year that she was released to wander on her own. For years she walked the roads and lived in the countryside, visiting one city and then the next one, until she finally stumbled into the Capital.
She never expected the Tree of Awakening to be so majestic. The biggest, brightest tree in the Homeplanet. It, by far, surpassed any of the ecological buildings around it, penetrating the skies and its top being lost over the clouds. When she touched it, she immediately connected to it. She could not exit the Land of Memories for years to come. Five years swallowed by the tree, while her body just sat idle on the other side. She experienced the memories of countless figures of the past. Ranging from explorers to soldiers. From religious radicals to world leaders.
In her time inside the tree, she was entranced by the memories of the daring explorers of old who, against all odds, embarked on century-long journeys to map out nearby star systems. Their struggles inspired her to become one of them, yet when she finally found the way to exit the Land of Memories, she found out that she lacked the abilities to possibly be one of them.
After physical rehabilitation, at the age of 18, she set her mind on one goal: becoming an Exploronaut. Nine years of studies and intense training began the day she left the Tree. But she was good at something else. Eventually it became known that she was an expert chef, taking it up as a hobby when she began training, and so the Exploronaut institution of the Homeplanet gave her the best training they could to have her become a Navy Chef.
She wasn't happy with the outcome of her training. Being a Chef was neither glorious nor interesting, and she'd never get to see the strange new lands for herself, in person. But she'd be useful in some way, at least. And she could watch the planet from orbit through the windows, too.
She went on to become the best Navy Chef after fifty years of constant cooking, recognized by the entire Homeplanet Navy as the best morale booster in the Star System through her meals alone. But one day, the ship she was stationed in lost contact to the Exploronaut team. They also lost contact to the auxiliary security team when they went down to find the Exploronauts. Being a sensitive expedition, the ship's captain resolved not to let his brothers and sisters be lost, and sent whoever the ship could spare--The Chief Executive Chef, the Assistant Engineer and the Resident Awoken Priest.
They pushed through many obstacles and dangerous situations under Teige's directions and they managed to rescue both the Exploronauts and the Security Team, who had gotten trapped in a collapsing ancient abandoned complex.
Following her and her fellow low ranks' heroic acts, they were absorbed by the Exploronaut Academy in the Homeworld, and ten years later they earned their titles. Teige, the Exploronaut.
A hundred years passed and Teige, a 177 year old Foreas Exploronaut, was sent to interact with the Humans. She was eventually given the opportunity to accompany a group of humans on a mission, and she accepted immediately. She got into the ship, all things going fine and entered cryogenic sleep. Next thing she knows is she is waking up a century later than she expected.
Romance:
No.
If so, sexual preference:
Military Rank:
Foreas Exploronaut.
If not military rank, what is your role on the ship:
Besides going down on field missions, she cooks for the whole ship with the help of a few assistants.
Combat Skills:
She only has experience using handguns. Sure, she's been through basic for the rest, including unarmed combat, but she was never the top student and the Foreas haven't needed more than handguns and fists in over a thousand years.
Misc:
The Exploronauts are a Foreas Institution that recruits from the Foreas Navy. They're natural explorers and their curiosity is never sated. An Exploronaut has a strong grasp of survival techniques as well as enough of an understanding of leadership to lead others in expeditions into unknown space sectors. They could be seen as VIPs within the Foreas Navy, their requests rarely denied and quite often followed to a T, as if they were orders. They have a great relationship with the Tree of Awakening's keepers, the Awoken Priests, who in turn train them in mental matters.
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Anastasia
Anastasia nodded to the crewmember's question.
"If it wasn't true I wouldn't have these two holes poked through my right lung now would I? I came here because this is the last place I know of that is safe. Everywhere else is either avoiding me, shunning me or outright trying to kill me."
Anastasia got up, her breathing heavy. Her shirt was ripped open, checking herself to see how bad the injury was. She wobbled over to look for the captain's pod, viewing over all of them. Going down the row, she found it.
"This one."
She punched the button. It was taking too long to open, prompting her. She drove her fist through the glass causing the liquid to spill everywhere.
"Wake up captain, your crew needs you."
|
Name (& pronunciation): Anastasia
Date of Birth (& age): 2280, 25 years old
Place of Birth: Russia
Gender: Female
Species:Human
Height: 195 cm, 6'5"
Weight: 200 lbs, 92 kg
Personality:Anastasia is a very serious person, not allowing crew to fall off track and get distracted. She makes sure everyone does their duty and not get lazy about work.
Likes: Battle, Work, Her homeland.
Dislikes: Slackers, people who abandon their loyalties.
Ambitions: To find out the cause of humanity's impending extinction.
Strengths: Her melee skills, Ship weapons.
Weaknesses: Accusations of being disloyal, her strict code of conduct.
Fears: Not achieving her goals, being accused of being weaker for being a female.
Interests: nothing.
History:Anastasia is the only female in the Earth based Super Soldier Program, being elected by the higher ups in the Russian military. She was laughed at all through training, but earned everyone's respect and honor simply through her hard work alone.
Romance: (Yes or No)
If so, sexual preference: Bisexual.
Military Rank: Rogue Agent
If not military rank, what is your role on the ship:
Combat Skills:Melee, energy blasts.
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Valerius | ???
"Uuugggh...", Valerius opened his eyes slightly, it was largely dark, what was it... 5AM? 3AM? In any case it was dark, this told him it was still really late. The bed was kind of hard, and he felt some shards of glass as he closed his eyes again as he turned in his sleep.
"Five... Five more minutes... Tell the crew they can just play hacky-sack while they wait or something... It's not even morning, let me sleep", he said, closing his eyes back again. He failed to notice the wounded lady who woke him up.
"And maybe clean up the glass mom... And get a better mattress... This whole fancy water bed thing is leaking and it looks like I wet the bed", he complained as he groaned back to sleep. Was this guy serious at all? Probably not, in fact he wasn't. The only thing he was serious about is wanting to sleep a bit more, you know how it is when you wake up in the morning and just want to go back to sleep? Kind of like that.
|
Name: Valerius
Date of Birth (& age): January 25th, aged 25
Place of Birth: Earth
Gender: Male
Species: Human
Personality: Incompetent, absolutely, is what most think about him, but they still rely on him, simply because he's incredibly good at getting a job done even though he's such a good for nothing. He's driven more by the morality behind things to act, doing what is right, it's strange coming from someone who was once a space pirate, but that's how he was taught. Space pirate captain guy was a good guy. As a result he's kind of snarky and a little petty, he'll do some pretty dastardly things from time to time.
Likes: Sweet foods, and junk food, and food. He like food but usually sweets.
Dislikes: Ghosts (you can't hit ghosts)
Ambitions: None
Strengths:
- Close quarters combat he is said to be unmatched.
- Incredible speed, strength and endurance... And skill
- Most effective against humanoid warriors and fighters.
Weaknesses:
- Skilled ranged fighters can give him a hard time.
- He's kind of useless with any other weapon.
- Least effective against monster types.
Fears: That ghosts may be real.
Interests: Finding the perfect confectionery.
History: Born on earth, then became a space pirate, then became a space mercenary for any job. That's a quick summary. The long one is he learned swordsmanship from the space pirates, the captain was a good man, but many years later he would die at the hands of government officials, whom he would later fight. Unfortunately as a result of his recklessness, he became the last of the crew to survive, and his twin red laser blades were destroyed. He didn't serve time as a criminal though, since he managed to escape, and settle down in a random part of space. He worked from then on in random jobs, avoiding criminal activity, as that would attract people of the government. He became low profile enough, until one day he was forced into being hired (or blackmailed) by the military. Some stuff happened and then he was thrown into cryosleep for some reason.
Romance: Maybe...? I dunno.
If so, sexual preference: Dude's straight as an arrow
Military Rank: None (auxiliary captain when he was hired by some forces)
If not military rank, what is your role on the ship: Captain
Combat Skills:
- Super fast learning capacity: Unique to him is his ability to learn incredibly fast during combat. He once was on a job to destroy a living weapon, and ended up out-learning it, allowing him to best it in combat. If he's not stronger than you when you fight him, he will be once he's done.
- Swordsmanship: He's learned countless different battle styles over his strange encounters over his travels and jobs, but he prefers twin blades. He's known to be able to use any kind of sword, since he's seen almost every single type so far.
- Insane Durability: He's managed to baffle almost every race he's come across because he's gotten up from the most ridiculous wounds and kept fighting.
- The Crimson Scourge: He had signature twin red laser blades when he was a space pirate. Those blades are now destroyed, ever since the end of the pirates he once commandeered.
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Anastasia
Anastasia wobbled around when the captain said he was going to sleep. It made her angry to see someone in a position of such power over a large ship be such a laze. She coughed hard, her lung starting to give out. She wheezed, trying to catch a breath.
"You."
She pointed to the other person awake.
"Get your useless captain awake. I need to find and wake the doctor up."
She wobbled around the chambers and looked through all of them, though none of them looked helpful. Mostly engines handlers and such. At the end of the room, she found her goal. It was an unnamed. Unnamed were some of the weirder people. She hobbled over, trying to shake him awake from his chamber. She punched through the glass, completely shattering it.
"Wake up. I need your hel..."
Before finishing her sentence she was sent into a coughing fit, dropping to the ground, trying to catch her breath.
|
Name (& pronunciation): Anastasia
Date of Birth (& age): 2280, 25 years old
Place of Birth: Russia
Gender: Female
Species:Human
Height: 195 cm, 6'5"
Weight: 200 lbs, 92 kg
Personality:Anastasia is a very serious person, not allowing crew to fall off track and get distracted. She makes sure everyone does their duty and not get lazy about work.
Likes: Battle, Work, Her homeland.
Dislikes: Slackers, people who abandon their loyalties.
Ambitions: To find out the cause of humanity's impending extinction.
Strengths: Her melee skills, Ship weapons.
Weaknesses: Accusations of being disloyal, her strict code of conduct.
Fears: Not achieving her goals, being accused of being weaker for being a female.
Interests: nothing.
History:Anastasia is the only female in the Earth based Super Soldier Program, being elected by the higher ups in the Russian military. She was laughed at all through training, but earned everyone's respect and honor simply through her hard work alone.
Romance: (Yes or No)
If so, sexual preference: Bisexual.
Military Rank: Rogue Agent
If not military rank, what is your role on the ship:
Combat Skills:Melee, energy blasts.
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Ensō
Consciousness was a strange concept, inextricably linked to the ideas of personality and the self and – to those humans who found it within themselves to believe so whole-heartedly in the spiritual – the soul. His people (were they his people? – an interesting question to ponder) didn't have such theories or use psychologists and philosophers to decode the mysteries of the universe and sentience, since it worked differently.
Ensō understood the human concept of laughter when they'd asked impolitely for him to enter cryosleep. A violent Unnamed, one who followed the tenets of the Old Days and sought to create their own order instead of following others', would've shot him. That wasn't Ensō, no, no; he was a medical officer. The oldest and most necessary profession in the 'Verse.
Other than prostitution, of course, but that was neither here nor there. Tangents – he could never escape them, like a murderer chased by a police-cruiser ship.
He was unsurprised when the fist smashed through the glass of his cryopod and the shell opened out; he was unsurprised when he checked his counts of minutes and days and years to find out he was much, much later in being awakened than originally planned and he was unsurprised that the person in front of him was dying – well, not literally – because Ensō had spent over a century awake.
He said as much in a dry tone of voice. “Already awake.” And unfurled his shadowy form into action. Ensō climbed out of his pod as if he'd never been trapped inside it, black fingertips flexing as he observed the female human.
Missing arm – unimportant, mechanical. All limbs mechanical, taste of metal in the air confirms... shiny new alloy? Nice! But unimportant. Ensō could do nothing about the sharp breathing without a medkit and, if he remembered correctly, that was... Over there. He calmly stepped over the collapsed female human and rifled around inside it for a shot of MedicaJel, expired but it would do no lasting harm.
Punctured lung, left? No possible ailment MedicaJel won't temporarily fix with current symptoms either way. Except lung cancer. The unnamed nodded to himself, before remembering his manners. “Call me Ensō. Doctor.” And then he remembered his bedside manner, the type they'd tried to teach him at the hospital he 'apprenticed' at.
“This will burn,” he noted with palpable sincerity, and injected the MedicaJel forcefully into the female human's chest.
|
Name: Ensō (EHN - SOH)
Gender: ??? – Prefers masculine pronouns.
Species: Unnamed
Age: ??? – 'Offended' when any number above 2000 is suggested.
Date of Birth: 1st of January
Place of Birth: The Solar System
Height: Fluctuates between 5'6" and 5'9" – seemingly only when he is trying to impress.
Weight: Much, much lighter than that of a human of the same size and build.
Appearance: Quite simply, a human-shaped mass of black energy. He does not reflect light and so it is difficult to make out any real facial features without him turning around. Ensō seems androgynous, as many Unnamed do, with a thin build with slight shoulders, devoid of any gender characteristics. His 'hair' is long, shoulder-length and somehow follows the same physics that a human's would.
Personality: Clueless – when his appearance and species offends or unsettles someone, he doesn't realise; when slinking silently up behind someone, he doesn't make a noise not for any nefarious purpose but because he doesn't understand that humans can't sense each other as his kind can. He is pacifistic, claiming to have taken the "Hippocratic Oath" – an outdated human custom. Ensō, like most of his kind, loves humanity, but at times he views them as more of an experiment, a lab rat ready to be studied. While he doesn't fully understand emotions, particularly human ones, he can emulate them to a fairly adept level... just not at the right times. To that end, he's a bit amoral, too.
Likes:
Humanity
Science – Biology, chemistry and physics!
'Spacewalks'
Classical Music
Dislikes:
Violence
Death
Existential Crises
Ambitions: Ensō's motivations are unclear but, for the time being, he seems to be content with helping as many humans as he can and copying their mannerisms and emotions. He has one object with him on the ship and that is an ancient book in an archaic language – most suspect it to be his native tongue. He studies and wants something from it, that much is clear, but what is it? A way home? A method to become human?
Strengths:
Medical Training – Ensō has an encyclopedic knowledge of medical techniques, human ones in particular, and considers it a great privilege to 'fix' human beings. His skill in surgery (though he 'hopes' it is not needed) seems unparalleled.
Linguist – Maybe it's just an age thing. While Ensō speaks exclusively in English, he often interrupts other conversations, even if they were in other species' tongues. He doesn't need any translation device.
Endurance – A quirk of biology, perhaps, but Ensō has no trouble with spaceflight or any consequences associated with it. If the grav-systems turn off, he adapts quickly as if it were never on in the first place. He doesn't feel the claustrophobia of a ship nor the 'sea legs' when on land. He can take more bullets or cuts than a normal human could but he claims enough would cause him to simply... dissipate.
Weaknesses:
Flightiness – One could say that Ensō only does what he's interested in doing, when he wants to do it. And, if it's not a human on his operating table, whether or not he'll help out is up to the whims of the tide. He doesn't follow orders well, and he sure as hell doesn't like being forced into things.
Basic Comprehension – Or the lack thereof. Ensō, for all his apparent knowledge, doesn't understand facial expressions, when someone wants him to leave, or basic concepts like privacy and dignity. He can be fairly blunt and though he understands the concept of skirting around the truth, it's something he can't bring himself to do.
Fears:
Ensō fears death – not just his own (which he calls his "Calling", a strange quirk) but also those of 'loved ones' and friends.
He also has an irrational yet crippling fear of the universe suddenly ending.
Interests:
Xenobiology and the medical techniques of alien species;
The Earth's history;
Human art, music and basic culture;
Space and the mythology of the planets – even those of his own people.
History: Not much is known about Ensō, save what he has told others on the ship. He claims to have appeared in the Solar System at some point in humanity's history, and he often makes insensitive comments about "watching the crusades" and "how interesting the World Wars were". It can be presumed that he was watching and studying for a long, long time. His name originates from Asian culture, but when asked if he follows Buddhism or similar, he denies it; he only appreciates the sentiment.
Once, Ensō was a warrior – he even admits as much – but now he's a doctor, and that's all that should matter. Interplanetary warfare is a thing of the past, and now survival should be all anyone cares about. Of course, it never works like that. It seems as if he's forgotten it all (can the Unnamed even do that?) in place of learning how to help others, presumably during cryosleep. It's almost as if he rewrote his own programming, whilst all the humans were in cryosleep, switching from 'battle' to 'healer'.
Romance: Yes – for science!
Sexual Preference: Asexual; no gender preference; likes humans.
Role: Doctor
Combat Skills: Refuses to participate in combat.
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Teige
Teige found the stability to stand on her own soon enough and moved over to her Captain's now-destroyed pod, as per the woman's orders. She stared for a moment at the form of the young human so insolently attempting to 'sleep more'. Then she brought up her index finger and thumb and blocked the man's nostrils, followed by using her other hand to keep his jaw and lips shut.
He'll wake up once he feels he's going to asphyxiate. Teige thought, her face emotionless as she acted. She only ever so slightly reacted as the woman punched through the Unnamed's pod and the shadowling attended the woman.
"Wake up, Captain Valerius. A century has passed and humanity's going extinct."
|
Name (& pronunciation):
Teige (Teh-ish)
Date of Awakening (& age):
November of 2018 according to the Human calendar, She's 287 years old.
Place of Birth:
The Foreas' home planet, The Homeplanet.
Gender:
Female.
Species:
Foreas.
Height:
164 centimetres, 5'5 approximately.
Weight:
110 pounds.
Appearance:
She's a slender Foreas of average height and weight. Her leaves are all colored a bright orange-ish red. Her skin's mostly white with some soft gradation of the orange-ish red on her joints and spine.
Due to Human Navy regulations, she is often seen wearing a lightly coloured dress made of leaves when out of duty and a standard crew uniform when in duty. When she's cooking, she'll wear and use all kinds of protective gear to make sure the food is as clean as possible.
Personality:
Throughout her life in the Homeplanet, Teige was always taught to be kind to life, to be silent and to be curious. The silence part came easy. It came easy to all Foreas, the curiosity was not only easy, it was impossible for her to turn it off. And the kindness was difficult to learn and difficult to put in practice but she tackled it in the end.
But even with her kindness, she was never able to bring herself to easily trust the beings made of meat and bone. She heard stories and she experienced the memories of the dead. The destructive nature of fleshlings scared her, it terrified her in fact. The thought of losing her and her planet's beauty to the wild actions of fleshling aliens was one that often had her awake and wandering at night. She'd always bottle it up when she was around the aliens, hide it under her leaves, as they said, but sometimes a fleshling would get too close and she would have no choice but to push them away, often forcefully.
She feels lonely on the ship. With no other Foreas around and not much to do that fits her open-air lifestyle, she feels bored too. Spending her free time in the Hydroponics chamber probably doesn't help matters, either, as it reminds her of the Homeplanet and its luscious plantlife and greenery.
Likes:
- Plants.
- Exploration.
- The unknown.
- Extreme sports.
- Socializing.
Dislikes:
- Scarabs.
- Closed spaces.
- Ignorance.
- Places with no plants.
Ambitions:
- To build memories and experiences worthy of being brought back to the Tree.
- To ensure the safety of the Foreas through identifying dangers before they arrive at the Homeplanet.
Strengths:
- As an Exploronaut, she's received personal training from the top brass of the Awoken Priests. She can fully control her emotions.
- Her time as a renowned Navy Chef helped her build her already exceptional communications skills, she takes pride in being liked by nearly everyone she meets.
- She needs no food and she can live comfortably with only incandescent light and water.
- She breathes in carbon dioxide.
- Her decade long Exploronaut training ensured she's at the top of her abilities. She's fast, agile, flexible and most important of all, she can endure hours of intense physical activity such as climbing without needing long rest periods.
Weaknesses:
- She's not strong. At all. While she might be able to take someone down with her fists, she can't carry much weight or move very heavy things.
- Deprive her of incandescent light for a day and she'll grow tired, take light away for two weeks and she'll die.
- She isn't accustomed to taking another sentient being's life.
SPARK MANDRILL
Fears:
- The unknown.
- Beings with a history of being violent such as humans or scarabs.
- Dark places.
- Amnesia.
Interests:
- The unnamed (species).
- Foreign cultures.
- Ruins and abandoned locations.
- Everything else to a lesser extent.
History:
Like all Foreas, Teige emerged out of her pod at the beginning of Spring back in the Homeplanet. She was found by a patrolling Caretaker, who took her and the other saplings to the local School, to immediately begin their education. It wasn't until her fifth year that she was released to wander on her own. For years she walked the roads and lived in the countryside, visiting one city and then the next one, until she finally stumbled into the Capital.
She never expected the Tree of Awakening to be so majestic. The biggest, brightest tree in the Homeplanet. It, by far, surpassed any of the ecological buildings around it, penetrating the skies and its top being lost over the clouds. When she touched it, she immediately connected to it. She could not exit the Land of Memories for years to come. Five years swallowed by the tree, while her body just sat idle on the other side. She experienced the memories of countless figures of the past. Ranging from explorers to soldiers. From religious radicals to world leaders.
In her time inside the tree, she was entranced by the memories of the daring explorers of old who, against all odds, embarked on century-long journeys to map out nearby star systems. Their struggles inspired her to become one of them, yet when she finally found the way to exit the Land of Memories, she found out that she lacked the abilities to possibly be one of them.
After physical rehabilitation, at the age of 18, she set her mind on one goal: becoming an Exploronaut. Nine years of studies and intense training began the day she left the Tree. But she was good at something else. Eventually it became known that she was an expert chef, taking it up as a hobby when she began training, and so the Exploronaut institution of the Homeplanet gave her the best training they could to have her become a Navy Chef.
She wasn't happy with the outcome of her training. Being a Chef was neither glorious nor interesting, and she'd never get to see the strange new lands for herself, in person. But she'd be useful in some way, at least. And she could watch the planet from orbit through the windows, too.
She went on to become the best Navy Chef after fifty years of constant cooking, recognized by the entire Homeplanet Navy as the best morale booster in the Star System through her meals alone. But one day, the ship she was stationed in lost contact to the Exploronaut team. They also lost contact to the auxiliary security team when they went down to find the Exploronauts. Being a sensitive expedition, the ship's captain resolved not to let his brothers and sisters be lost, and sent whoever the ship could spare--The Chief Executive Chef, the Assistant Engineer and the Resident Awoken Priest.
They pushed through many obstacles and dangerous situations under Teige's directions and they managed to rescue both the Exploronauts and the Security Team, who had gotten trapped in a collapsing ancient abandoned complex.
Following her and her fellow low ranks' heroic acts, they were absorbed by the Exploronaut Academy in the Homeworld, and ten years later they earned their titles. Teige, the Exploronaut.
A hundred years passed and Teige, a 177 year old Foreas Exploronaut, was sent to interact with the Humans. She was eventually given the opportunity to accompany a group of humans on a mission, and she accepted immediately. She got into the ship, all things going fine and entered cryogenic sleep. Next thing she knows is she is waking up a century later than she expected.
Romance:
No.
If so, sexual preference:
Military Rank:
Foreas Exploronaut.
If not military rank, what is your role on the ship:
Besides going down on field missions, she cooks for the whole ship with the help of a few assistants.
Combat Skills:
She only has experience using handguns. Sure, she's been through basic for the rest, including unarmed combat, but she was never the top student and the Foreas haven't needed more than handguns and fists in over a thousand years.
Misc:
The Exploronauts are a Foreas Institution that recruits from the Foreas Navy. They're natural explorers and their curiosity is never sated. An Exploronaut has a strong grasp of survival techniques as well as enough of an understanding of leadership to lead others in expeditions into unknown space sectors. They could be seen as VIPs within the Foreas Navy, their requests rarely denied and quite often followed to a T, as if they were orders. They have a great relationship with the Tree of Awakening's keepers, the Awoken Priests, who in turn train them in mental matters.
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Valerius | ???
Valerius beheld before him a land made of candy, cakes and sweets as far as the eye can see occasionally decorated with curious extraterrestrial treats he's once had on his journeys. It was enjoyable, honestly, but soon the cake footpaths below him became damp, and within moments they became punch. Normally this was a good thing, but as he fell deeper in the red abyss, his breath began to fail him, bit by bit... He could physically feel derivation of his breath, until suddenly... A shark made of candy charged and-
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH- Nononononono I'm too young to diiiieeeeeeeeeee... Huh?", he was wide awake now, looking around... This was no bed, that would explain the way his body felt. The next thing he noticed was the girl beside his pod, uhhhhh... Who was this girl again...? Oh right, Teige.
"Hm? Century? Humanity? Ahahahahaaa... That's a nice joke there, there's no way I was sleeping that long, I'd be like, dead, you know? Humans don't live that long", he responded, as if she were joking. He got up out of the pod and saw one familiar... Thing, and an unfamiliar girl.
"Morning doc, who's this? She looks lucky to still be alive" he asked, taking a few steps over to the two. He can see the wounding on her... It was not beasts, but human-made. She didn't have a group with her either... There must be something coming their way soon. Though he knew this, it wasn't important right now.
|
Name: Valerius
Date of Birth (& age): January 25th, aged 25
Place of Birth: Earth
Gender: Male
Species: Human
Personality: Incompetent, absolutely, is what most think about him, but they still rely on him, simply because he's incredibly good at getting a job done even though he's such a good for nothing. He's driven more by the morality behind things to act, doing what is right, it's strange coming from someone who was once a space pirate, but that's how he was taught. Space pirate captain guy was a good guy. As a result he's kind of snarky and a little petty, he'll do some pretty dastardly things from time to time.
Likes: Sweet foods, and junk food, and food. He like food but usually sweets.
Dislikes: Ghosts (you can't hit ghosts)
Ambitions: None
Strengths:
- Close quarters combat he is said to be unmatched.
- Incredible speed, strength and endurance... And skill
- Most effective against humanoid warriors and fighters.
Weaknesses:
- Skilled ranged fighters can give him a hard time.
- He's kind of useless with any other weapon.
- Least effective against monster types.
Fears: That ghosts may be real.
Interests: Finding the perfect confectionery.
History: Born on earth, then became a space pirate, then became a space mercenary for any job. That's a quick summary. The long one is he learned swordsmanship from the space pirates, the captain was a good man, but many years later he would die at the hands of government officials, whom he would later fight. Unfortunately as a result of his recklessness, he became the last of the crew to survive, and his twin red laser blades were destroyed. He didn't serve time as a criminal though, since he managed to escape, and settle down in a random part of space. He worked from then on in random jobs, avoiding criminal activity, as that would attract people of the government. He became low profile enough, until one day he was forced into being hired (or blackmailed) by the military. Some stuff happened and then he was thrown into cryosleep for some reason.
Romance: Maybe...? I dunno.
If so, sexual preference: Dude's straight as an arrow
Military Rank: None (auxiliary captain when he was hired by some forces)
If not military rank, what is your role on the ship: Captain
Combat Skills:
- Super fast learning capacity: Unique to him is his ability to learn incredibly fast during combat. He once was on a job to destroy a living weapon, and ended up out-learning it, allowing him to best it in combat. If he's not stronger than you when you fight him, he will be once he's done.
- Swordsmanship: He's learned countless different battle styles over his strange encounters over his travels and jobs, but he prefers twin blades. He's known to be able to use any kind of sword, since he's seen almost every single type so far.
- Insane Durability: He's managed to baffle almost every race he's come across because he's gotten up from the most ridiculous wounds and kept fighting.
- The Crimson Scourge: He had signature twin red laser blades when he was a space pirate. Those blades are now destroyed, ever since the end of the pirates he once commandeered.
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Alastair
"Well aren't you all so lively in the morning." He came up walking from behind them, seemingly out of nowhere. Adorned in a fancy black butler outfit and something in each hand, both quite odd given the situation but one of which someone would be quite familar with, something mechanical. Especially the woman. Still speaking in a calm and relaxed tone. Peering over Enso's shoulder, "Well, that doesn't look too good." he followed with a nod.
Without wasting any time, he presented what was in his right hand, a tray with 4 cups of freshly brewed tea.
With a smile, "Tea anyone?"
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Name: Alastair (Al-la-ster)
Date of Birth: August? 5th?
Place of Birth: Black Hole, Duh.
Gender: ???
Species: Unnamed
Height: 6'0
Weight: How much do you think a mass of black energy would weight?
Personality:
His personality changes depending what 'character' he wishes to portray, though, most of the time he acts as a butler should, dedicated, faithful, strong sense of duty, etc.....or at least tries to. Like expected of his race, due to not really fully understanding human emotions, he tends to act in a passive manner, though he tries, with only comics, books and such to rely upon. Upon study of certain types of humans, he 'picked up' on replying to people, mostly ones who don't do what they're supposed to be doing/not doing their listed job is, in a sarcastic/rude manner.
Likes:
The different variety/character types of Humans (lets just say he likes humanity)
Reading/Books (be it comics/manga, novels, or whatever)
Music (especially of old Asian influence)
Learning new things
Dislikes:
People that act out of character (despite not having a specific character himself)
Freeloaders
Those that don't do what they're supposed to be doing
Ambitions:
"If" he has one, it's probably to discover and read various texts or histories of various cultures, no matter the topic. Whenever asked about anything relating to goals, he always manages to side-step or find a way around the question, either by not answering at all or saying something different each time (like imitating a character's, that he has read, dream).
Strengths:
One Hell Of A Butler - With his extensive knowledge of the way of the butler, or at least what he knows from all that he has read from comics at least, he can cook, clean and well, do chores. Let's just say butler like things. A butler like no other! or something.
He's good with his hands - Like all butlers, being good with ones hands is key. Whether it's cutting or punching something or even throwing things at people, he can do it.
Mighty butler - Other than being a damn fine butler, stemming from the previous one, he excels at fighting. With great physical strength, his fists are his weapon of choice in close quarters combat and kitchen utensils/cutlery for long range.
Weaknesses:
Useless with a gun, he's not too fond of them anyways
While he can cook, he never cooks what people ask of him. The food he cooks and delivers tends to be quite random. Whether he intentionally ignores their food order or never takes the time to learn the names of certain dishes, no one will ever know. Not like anyone hasn't tried.
Fears:
Incomplete Characters
Not going through with a certain character type
Poor character portrayals
Interests:
History
Mythology (especially of Irish, Roman, Greek and Asian)
Foreign Culture (especially the concept of butlers and maids)
Mixing/changing up his character, speech and actions to see the various reactions people give him. Tends to act sarcastic and rude when he does.
Reading
Book collecting
History: Unknown, he just showed up and made it seem natural that he was there.
Romance: No
Military Rank: N/A
If not military rank, what is your role on the ship: Combat Butler
Combat Skills:
Smashing things and using sharp objects.
On a serious note (well it was kind of serious), he's very adaptable (not taking long to adjust to something new), sharp reflexes and has a talent at using weapons, except for guns. Though, when it comes to using knives and all sorts of kitchen utensils (and throwing daggers), he's a master.
Oh, he got crazy strength and likes smashing things, for real.
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