Dark Fae: World End [Still Recruiting...We have cookies!]

Started by Esoteric Myobi, May 27, 2010, 06:02:24 PM

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Ramael

Profiles usually help garner more interest, Myobi.

I'll get on it after I've seen a few, it will give me a better insight into your world. :)

Iksander

Name: Shards of Understanding
Alias Name: Samuel Artisan
Age: ~2500 years
Race/Symbol: Minion- Wand
Ability:

Transcendental Madness: While the fractal patterns that make up Shards' true form are not dangerous to fae minds, any mortal with the Sight who gazes upon his true or half form will find their wills locked into conflict with Shards'.  If Shards emerges victorious, which is far harder agains the Marked, the victim will find their mind infected with madness, taking various forms depending on the individual in question, but typically taking the form of some obsession or compulsion, often dealing with discovering truth or mathematical insight.

Reflections of Glimpsed Truth: Much as the Fifth has learned to gain power from despair, Shards has learned to a glimmer of power from mathematics and rationality.  While he was limited in earlier eras, in the modern, he can maintain his illusionary form and presence in the human practically indefinitely.

Angles of Shattering:  Doubt is a very powerful weapon against the fae, and Shards has accumulated an excess amount of it, during his time with humanity.  As such, he can release it is as harmful bursts, taking the form of luminous equations.  These attacks damage the illusions and constructs of the fae, sucking away at their energy while leaving the living form beneath intact.

Appearance:
Human Form: In his human form, Samuel is not a pleasant sight.  He is short and pudgy and balding and ill-dressed at most circumstances, complete with a set of thick glasses at almost all times.  But despite the unpleasantness of his appearance, he has a way of persuading people with his voice, which has rich, clear tones and is always backed up with the soundest of arguements.  He never seems to lose his temper, and appears to carry himself with logic and forthright at all times.

Half Form:  Oddly enough, his half form may be his most beautiful.  His flesh seems to recede into itself and he becomes a figure of coherent light.  But etched into the flesh of his form, oozing out like inky blood, are arcane formulae speaking of strange and forbidden knowledge, moving over his flesh in strange patterns that tantalize and hypnotize the eye.

True Form: In his true form, Shards losing anything resembling humanity.  He becomes an odd conglomeration of fractal planes, constantly shifting and moving and yet remaining the same.  His voice sounds more like chimes in this state, the movement of alien materials, flowing in accordance with his bizarre will.

Personality:

Shards is an oddity.  What most fae find amazing about humanity, their compassion, their courage, their tenacity, to be the signs of their infected and weak minds.  He believes himself above such petty things.  Rather, he praises humanity for their ability to search for the unknown, for their ability to wander to the edge of understanding and throw themselves over.  And of course, their ability to deny what they cannot touch, what they cannot understand.  He enjoys tempting the curious with new understandings, before forcing their fragile minds into madness.  Nothing pleases him more than breaking an innocent and destroying hope, except for perhaps binding their wills to meaningless patterns, to pretty lights and loud noises without substance.  Where humanity falters, he gains strength.

He cares very little about the big picture, he can let the Fifth handle that.  His strength is in details, in observance of the smallest pieces of the pattern.  While he acknowledges that the Fifth is more powerful than him, he does not follow the Fifth out of loyalty or fear.  Instead, he understands that they have similiar objectives in forcing humanity down the road it is treading, and has no desire for humanity to discover some other path due to negligence or the interference of the fae.

Biography:

Shards was born from the fever dreams of a madman.  Pythagoras gave him life in his strange cult and mysteries.  This makes him quite young in comparison to many of his peers, but what he lacked in age, he made up for in adaptability.  He always kept himself a degree apart from the rest of the fae, instead choosing to observe humanity at their work.  In those early days, he was a purer creature, bringing genius instead of madness, exploration instead of repression.  But as the years went on, and the centuries went on, the slow descent of humanity's progress, its turning away from imagination, tainted him far more than anything else could.

He grew cynical, and bitter.  He inspired revolts and revolutions, he helped mankind unleash the pandora's box of higher and higher levels of technology.  And when he returned to Arcadia, his fellows were disgusted with what become of him, and they cast him down to the Abyss.  There, his bitterness grew and festered like a sore on his soul.  He languished in the hell that the Fifth had crafted from himself.  But then, he discovered the cracks.  They were razor thin then, so tiny that none of his fellows could pass, but he aligned himself, so that his edges, infinitely thin, slid through.  He travelled the twisting ways and returned to the land of humanity.

He has kept a low profile over the last century or so, but some say that someone matching his appearance served as a consultant for the Manhattan project, whilest others suggested that he aided in Russian bioweapon labs.  There is no doubt, though, that he is pleased by the new shapes that equations have taken, of the round-about ways that man has come to solidfying reality under their belief.  And now he is almost content, sitting and waiting as a tenured professor in New York City, awaiting the time when he must act again, to ensure that his enemies do not gain the advantage they desire.
I'm Just Some Guy.
Really.

Crovonovin

My first minion, and I must say that I am impressed!  I particularly enjoy the idea that different Fae, once confined within Abhoth's realm, draw their power from aspects of humanity other than negative emotions.

Lady Kitsune

#28
After tweeking with half a brain, I have put her up.  Now I can fall on my face.

Name: Iseult of the Moon

Age: So old she is Legend.

Race/Symbol: Faerie/ Sword

Weapon/Ability:  Isuelt's abilities are tied to the Moon, She is at her most powerful when the Moon is full or new.  She is most vulnerable during the 'kiss' when the moon begins its cycle of waxing or waning, her powers diminish for a short time to almost nothing. 

Powers

Shape shifting:   Iseult can shape shift into the raven, the wolf, the horse, and the cat.  During the full moon she can shift with ease and into any form but as the moon wanes it becomes less powerful and she usually keeps her shifting to a minimum.

Moonlight and Shadows: The full Moon gives Iseult the gift of light manipulation.  She can give moonlight tangibility.  Likewise, the new Moon gives her control over shadows.  At half Moon, she can use both but the power is weaker and she must concentrate harder, though casting illusions is easier for her at this time.

The Hand of the Rose:  This ability is more of a weapon.  When Iseult enters a room, she brings with her the scent of roses.  A beautiful perfume whose heady aroma dulls the senses and brings about a languid lethargy.  She can make it rain rose petals and yet, anger her and the petals can whirl into a storm and cut like tiny blades.  She can make thorny vines sprout from any plant to bind and cut.  This power is her tie to Arcadia and the Earth.  She uses this at a minumum since over exposure to the scent can also begin to effect her.

Weapon

Morpheus:  A silver and onyx blade.  Bound to her powers, the blade's cut can freeze as cold as hoarfrost or burn like the hottest fire.  A long and elegant blade, the pommel carries a Moonstone that changes with the phases of the moon.  The hilt is silver and gold, one side jagged ice, the other errant flames.  Like Iseult, Morpheus is tied to her phases and magic.  In another's hands it is but a pretty blade, in hers it is Death.  Yet, as her power waxes and wanes so does Morpheus'.

Appearance: Iseult forms are tied to the Moon’s phases.

Human form: A young girl in her early twenties with long raven locks that have a slight curl.  She stands at an average height but she is beyond average in her looks.  She is pale of skin a slight of build with eyes as blue as the ocean and lips as red as blood.  Pixie like in features, she is amused that humans akin her to the fairytale princess Snow White.  If only they knew….

Faerie Forms: In her full moon phase, Iseult is tall and lithe.  Her hair is straight and fine like strands of spun pearls and eyes like liquid silver.  Her skin has an almost translucent paleness that shimmers like mother of pearl and she glows softly as if she carries the moon inside her.  She moves as if she is delicate and graceful but that is a deception.  When she speaks it is as if there is music coming from another room but it falls from the soft pink cupid’s bow of her lips.  Her wings are white and feathery, giving her an almost angelic appearance.
When the moon is dark, she is a sensual creature with long black hair with blue highlights.  Lips full and red as if they were petals of a red, red rose and eyes like a starry night, black ringed in silver.  She loses a few inches of height and her slightly curved form becomes more…curvaceous.  She moves like a predatory tigress and her gaze can be disconcerting as if she sees your secrets.  Moonshine skin and wings of a midnight raven, she seems to move in a halo of dark light. 
During the half phases, Iseult height fluctuates.  Her hair during the waxing phase is black with a white streak and in the waning she is white with a black streak.  Her eyes do much of the same.  The only difference is her moon white Monarch butterfly wings.

Personality:  Iseult personality is volatile to say the least.  The full Moon makes her a cold creature and the New, she is like fire.  In between, she is a mixture of both.  Some mistake her fluctuations for insanity but under that intensity, she is rather calculated.  She kills with ease, and likes to eat pixies for hors de voers.  She is rather disdainful and believes herself to be the wisest of creatures.  Could be the narcissism.  She uses fear as a weapon and logic as a tool and yet there are times where she is strangely empty headed.

Biography: Iseult cannot remember the beginning of her existence.  Said to be born in a shaft of moonlight on a special night when the planets and stars aligned in a pocket of Wild Magic.  She sprang forth and just…was.  She is so old that even she has forgotten the legends that have surrounded her.  Given many names by mortals, a battle goddess of Irish lore, a mysterious enchantress of Arthurian legend, and dark shamaness in the lands of ice and snow.  She has been many things and yet she has always been herself.  Foolish are mortals who try to name her.  But her favorite tale of yore is the Jack Frost.  Born of hoarfrost, Jack is the free spirit she created when she blew upon her blade.
Iseult resides in a place of dark forests and enchanted lagoons.  It is wise to step wary in her territory as all seems lovely.  The flora and fauna are docile at a glance but fare too close and…well, enter at your own risk.  Here the Wild Magic runs free and it can change those who enter as it has changed those who reside there.  Here the legends of not partaking in the foods of the Fae are born, that to dance in the Wild Woods, you dance forever. 
Always, Iseult has been loyal to the Queen, which was always odd, since she seemed to always be at odds with all others.  Only once did she try to refuse the Queen.  It was the Imprisonment of Abhoth.  Iseult was adamant that allowing Abhoth to live would come back and haunt them all.  He was a danger to both Arcadia and the human world but even she had to concede there was no time for an alternative.  The Faerie Court of the Shining Throng has always been one of intrigue and her refusal was taken in by the others as allying with Abhoth.  Iseult was insulted by this since she sided with no one.  Yet she was one and there were three others and even she had to agree that Abhoth was a menace. Capitulating out of necessity and a need to be gone from the Court to sulk in her home, she joined in the spell that would lock the Fae away for as long as they were alive.  When it was done, she continued to have a nagging feeling that something was wrong.  The laws of the Universe would not be denied and now all their sins had come home to Arcadia to roost.  Time for Iseult to gather to her the Wild Hunt and seek that which will peirce Abhoth's heart once and for all. 


I am working on it, I swear!

Iksander

Name: Reginald "Reggy" Townsend
Age: 28
Race/Symbol: Marked - Sword
Weapon/Ability: Durandal (See Below)

Appearance: Reggy is a well built man, tall and muscular, in the peak fitness of his life.  His features are rugged and square and his eyes a piercing blue, while his hair is a shock of red, scraggly at the moment.  He wears simple, yet durable, clothes, always prepared for things to take a turn for the worst.  Despite his broad build, he moves with the grace of a jungle cat, dangerous and smooth at once.

Personality: Despite his background, Reggy is a laid back fellow during his off hours.  He's content to relax and blow off steam at a bar, or go clubbing, or take a different woman home with every night.  On the job, though, he is more serious, the epitome of professional.  While not broadly educated, he doesn't lack intelligence, and is quite knowledgable about soldiery and weaponry.

Biography:  Reggy was an all-American boy.  The center of the defensive line in high school, and a patriot above all else.  He joined the military right out of high school, despite the promise of a football scholarship, simply because he thought it was his duty.  It definitely helped that he was a third generation army brat, though his father never pressured him to join the service.

He had a distinguished career for nearly six years, when a convoy he was escorting to Baghdad was caught in an IED.  The shrapnel from the blast crippled him, and the doctors claimed he had suffered from permanent spinal cord injury.  He would receive the best possible medical care, though, and was laid up in the army hospital in Landstuhl for several months to recover from his other injuries.

He nearly gave into despair, at the thought of never being able to walk again, of never being able to engage in the physical exertion that he derived so much pleasure from.  But something strange happened during his stay at Landstuhl, which to this day he continues to chalk up to an hallucination brought from the drugs he was on.

A ghostly figure appeared in his room, lacking a head, and carrying a small wooden case.  Despite being headless, the figure navigated the room with ease, setting the case near Reggy's bed side.  And words entered Reggy's mind, words of comfort and of courage and of hope.  Even if the whole thing wasn't a hallucination, the details were lost to the fog of drug intoxication.

But the case was real and inside laid a silver-plated Desert Eagle, with the word "Durandal" etched onto the barrel.  After receiving the mysterious gift, Reggy's condition miraculously improved.  He still had to go through months of rigorous physical therapy, but Reggy walked out of the hospital and went back to his home in New York City.  He still keeps the Desert Eagle at his side, whenever possible.

His injury, though, had already led to him being honorably discharged, and he is able to make a comfortable living off of his medical reimbursement and his pension, but it's not enough.  He feels the call in his heart to right wrongs and help those in need.

Durandal
The most legendary sword in all of European history is, indubitably, Excalibur.  It should be noted first and foremost that Durandal is not Excalibur.  Excalibur is the weapon of a king, an indicator of status as much as a weapon of war.  Durandal is a soldier's weapon, a knight's weapon, a tool of war and war alone.

Abilities:
Transformation: The blade can change its shape, assuming the form of the weapon most comfortable to its wielder.  Once fully attuned to its power, the Marked can willfully change the form of the blade, allowing it to take the shape of whatever weapon desired.

Excellence: The wielder of Durandal finds their skills in battle increased, their knowledge of small tactics, their ability to read their foes in battle.  As the wielder becomes more attuned, the more they excel, and it is said that a warrior fully attuned to Durandal can only be brought low by treachery, though the raw might of the fae may be able to challenge that claim.

Enhancement: The wielder of Durandal also finds himself transformed.  As with their excellence, this increases as the attunement becomes complete.  The wielder grows faster and stronger and tougher, and even becomes able to return to full strength faster, even if laid low by a blow that would cripple an ordinary man.  Even at its full power, Durandal cannot reverse death.

Attuning to the blade requires two processes.  First, the wielder must become open to the world of the fae.  Second, the wielder must come to embody the aspects of the blade.  These aspects were imprinted by the most powerful personalities to wield it in battle, and a current wielder can embody either the positive or the negative aspects: the virtues and the vices of his previous incarnations.

History

Courage and Rage
Roland may not be the first man to wield Durandal, but he was the first to imprint his personality onto it.  He battled against the Saracens on behalf of Charlemagne without fear and without question and without mercy.  He waded into battle and his blade sliced his enemies to pieces, a hundred men falling to his fierce skill.  If not for the betrayal of his closest companion, he may have slaughtered the entire army himself, but he did fall, as all wielders of Durandal fall.

Honor and Obsession
The next wielder to imprint upon the blade was the last true knight.  In an age that had become to move on, the magic of the world fading into disbelief and humanistic doubt, he clung to his old beliefs.  He charged into battle against giants, though his peers thought he was merely tilting at windmills.  He lived long, though, to a ripe age, before the changing of the times his own increasing frailty led to a catastrophic defeat.  Durandal was broken and the knight was slain in battle against a potent minion of the Fifth.

Justice and Cynicism
All was not lost though, as the loyal squire of the knight travelled the lands to recover the fragments of the broken blade.  He did not live to see his task completed, and so he charged his own squired to continue the journey.  It would be centuries before the fragments were recovered.  They were not reforged into a sword, though, but into a gun, a symbol of the new era.  A nameless gunman was chosen by Durandal and he went into the wastes of the Wild West, using his revolver to bring justice to an unjust land and seek the salvation of the innocent.  He died, though, alone and betrayed, after his quest for justice pushed him too far.

Compassion and Passiveness
The raging heart of the blade had consumed many of its masters, driving them to dark deeds of violence and destruction and hate, even as it endeavored to bring new light to the world.  The last wielder of the blade was a young man, drafted to fight in the war to end all wars.  He had no desire to fight though, and his conscience rebelled against violence.  Strange then, that his fate would lead him to grasping Durandal in his hands.  He should have been broken.  His heart should have been torn out by the raging inferno of the blade, but this young man, pure of heart, pure of intention, and driven by the noblest of convictions, mastered the blade.  He became famous for capturing over a hundred soldiers, single handedly.  He is less known for the calm that he brought to the blade, and the salvation it might now offer to those that wielded it rightly.

There were others as well, champions from a hundred times.  Was Durandal Balmung of the Gae Bolga?  These things are lost to the tide of times.  What is known is that the last man to wield before its current owner was also a man named Roland.  He was a Thompson Gunner, who died aiding the Congolese resistance, and lost his head for his troubles.  Will it bring such a dark fate to its new owner?  Or will its new owner become a part of the blade and imprint new virtues upon its soul? Only time will tell.
I'm Just Some Guy.
Really.

Iksander

That's right, I like the concept so much that I decided to make two characters to play along. =)

I'm definitely looking forward to playing both, and I do like that I can make a supernatural being that is down-right... weird for a change, rather than playing with the set trope set.  Hopefully Shards will be a useful minion for you Shihong!
I'm Just Some Guy.
Really.

Crovonovin

Oh he most certainly will, I'm sure of it.

I do enjoy that he is not simply a slave, like the two characters I am going to introduce in the coming days.  It stands to reason that they both have much to gain by playing off one another.  Abhoth desires war and strife, while the Shards desire scientific progress and enlightenment.  It just so happens that wartime happens to bring about many scientific advancements, so they both win in equal measure!

I'm also glad that we finally have a Marked in the midst, and I'm very eager to see if he will rise above temptation or find himself swayed along a darker path...

Lady Kitsune

Nice Marked, Iksander.  I very much like your weapon.  *laughs because she thought about using Excalibur*

Shihong, you are always thinking up wicked things...well, I can be wicked, too.  *rubs her hands together gleefully*

Which reminds me....now I have to wrack my brain for a suitable fairy to convince Reggy.  All-American, huh?  Don't worry, I'm not sending Buffy.  Darn it and I just finished my Main profile.  *grins and goes a thinking*
I am working on it, I swear!

Iksander

Reggy is definitely temptable.  While the calling of Durandal is towards a higher cause, there is darkness beneath it all.  And above all else, he's still human, with all the same human weaknesses as the rest of the species.

I was definitely thinking about Excalibur when I got started, and the contrast between the classic ideal hero, the lone soldier, the demi-god and champion of the gods, and the more chivalric model, of the good and just ruler.  I could easily see the other Sword Marked as being the wielder of Excalibur, and have some tension there.  I'm definitely looking forward to see what you two bring to bear against the poor fellow, though.

Shards would be very much happy to go things alone if the Fifth turns on him.  But yes, they do certainly stand to gain more by working together than by working against each other.  Of course, there could be some tension there along the line if their interests end up being something besides mutual.
I'm Just Some Guy.
Really.

Esoteric Myobi

#34
Name: Anwen
Race: Faerie Messenger - Pentacle
Age: If ever asked the numbers are forever changing though only one pattern stays the same, the numbers always get substantially lower with each telling though it is well known that she has been around for quite a while already.

Abilities:

Artful Persuasion - A singer of uncanny ability, Anwen has the ability to not only charm but also persuade with her voice. By hitting a certain pitch or using a certain tone, she can easily ask a tree to shed its bark for her, shape a strong rope from a bunch of young vines, or mine gold without lifting a finger. Of course, this pertains to humans and faeries alike and many times seems far too easy. The success of her ability depends on how susceptible the person is. Marked, Minions, and other Messengers are hard to persuade, though it can be done with enough time given to her. When used on the Four (and Fifth), success isn't even possible.

Nature Manipulation - Like many other fae, Anwen is rather in tune with nature. This explains why she can so easily manipulate it with her songs when needed, though over the years her familiarity with the silent beings have formed to an almost mutual understanding. Now she can freely mold her surroundings as she sees fit by asking, or commanding, nature to bend to her will. While in the human realm, it becomes much more difficult due to how contaminated nature has become as well as the significant loss of magic available.

Silent Voice - Many think that nature hasn't a mind of its own, probably due to the fact that it can't speak. Oh, how wrong they are. All of nature is alive, even the twisted and strangely different one of Arcadia, and just as they all breathe and live, so they all think and chatter. The whispers of nature are soft, a low underlying voice that undulates beneath the constant hum of the rest of moving life. With enough concentration, she can hear their conversation though she cannot actually converse with them and many times has to sift through meaningless chatter before she is able to hear anything worthwhile.

Appearance:

Human Form - A nondescript woman who looks to be in her mid twenties, Anwen's human form stands at five feet with mousy brown hair and sky blue eyes. Usually seen wearing glasses of some sort, or with disheveled bangs hiding her eyes, she wears conservative clothing and gives off the impression of a girl who holds promise of being beautiful. A hidden gem undiscovered.

True Form - Delicate wings that look as if they will break with the slightest breath of wind carry her petite figure aloft with quick flurries of movement. Thin as parchment, elegant swirls of light olive green swirl throughout the encasing pale yellow of her wings, very much like a plant seeking sunlight as they branch every which way. Bright amethyst eyes peer out at the world behind long strands of silver-white hair. Her hair tumbles down in wild and untamed waves, stopping at her waist. When in her true form, streaked tints of violet can be seen, a bare hint of color to her shockingly bright mop of metallic white. A heart-shaped face ends with a sharp chin, high cheekbones and full lips that are usually fixed in pouting disappointment or curved in a pleasant smile of malicious intent. Anwen's cool, sharp, and lovely face is marred, or complimented, by the shape of a small leaf across one of her cheekbones. Whether it was a birthmark or a tattoo, it is hard to tell.

Her body is as pleasant to the eye as any faerie's, a bountiful bosom just barely covered with a strange material though leaving more than enough of her luminous olive-toned skin showing to catch a glimpse of the curve of her waist and the shapely legs dangling beneath. The one piece dress she wears seems to be soft and flowing, almost like a silvery brown silk. Yet, just as it looks similar to the bark of winter trees, the material is abnormally strong and resistant to wear and tear. When she moves, the one piece dress flashes a multitude of colors: peat black, moss green, ash gray, sky blue...as well as the more unnatural colors of rosy pink, crystalline ice, and that fantastic hue of majestic purple...though at times the colors seem somewhat random, the general consensus is that it either depends on her mood or more likely her current surroundings that reflect off of the mysterious attire.

Standing at a grand height of four and three quarter inches while in the human world, Anwen has found that her tiny stature can be quite convenient at times though it still seems to be mostly inconvenient. Upon arriving back home, she's much more comfortable with her height of five feet.

Personality: Proud and spirited, Anwen can almost be seen as wild. She cares little for others save for those she deems fellow friends or deeply respects, and even then she can be seen as a bit cold and aloof at times. The mischievous streak runs clearly in her though the faeries' malevolent side is quite close to the surface as well. She hates to lose and can be found sulking unhappily and rather ungracefully in some corner of the realm when she comes in second or not at all. To win, to be right, and to have her way are just a few of her favorite things.

Blunt and painfully to the point at times, Anwen doesn't see the point behind wasting her precious breath on being tactful unless truly needed. Calm and sensible, always keeping a cool head can make her more dangerous than a first glance gives away. Not easily scared or frightened, she has a tendency to lie back and analyze the situation first before making a move, but never thinking so long that an opportunity is lost. However, prideful and vain as most other faeries are, to be charmed, complimented, and flattered always mean a few extra bonus points for that specific person. As easily as her temper is 'soothed', the rage seething just beneath the surface, it can just as easily jump back up and hell hath no wrath as a faerie (Anwen) scorned.

Biography: (Will fill in this section after I've seen the Four's Pentacle character profile.)


...I want to be your wet dream, your daydream, your only distraction...
~O/O~A/A~Ideas~Cafe~
Status: Currently have my hands full running Bump in the Night. Always recruiting~!

Esoteric Myobi

Love all the new profiles (though you already know that) and can't wait to see more. ^^

Well, at least I hope we'll see more. =P

Have finally posted up my own profile for one of my characters, though technically it's incomplete at the moment. Perhaps we'll soon be seeing the spot for the Four's Pentacle filled. =)

...I want to be your wet dream, your daydream, your only distraction...
~O/O~A/A~Ideas~Cafe~
Status: Currently have my hands full running Bump in the Night. Always recruiting~!

Crovonovin

It looks great!  I'll put together sheets for Abhoth's personal gophers slaves lackies soon.  They should be...colourful, to say the least!

Also Myobi, I'm getting an error for the link to her Human Form.  Maybe it's just on my end, but I thought you should know.

Esoteric Myobi

Looking forward to seeing them x3

Hm, I just clicked on it and it seems to work for me. Though that might just be due to the fact that I already found the photo itself on my laptop?

-wonders if the others can't see it either?-

...I want to be your wet dream, your daydream, your only distraction...
~O/O~A/A~Ideas~Cafe~
Status: Currently have my hands full running Bump in the Night. Always recruiting~!

Iksander

I'm getting an error from the picture as well.  It's something I've seen before, where the web-site wants to prevent hot-linking.  If you've already accessed the web-site, or if you type the URL in manually, you can click the link just fine, otherwise you get an error.
I'm Just Some Guy.
Really.

Lady Kitsune

Nope, I can't see it either.
I am working on it, I swear!

Esoteric Myobi

Hm, should be fixed now. I've moved it to my photobucket. >.>;

Another thought that just occurred to me. Since there are 8 Marked total but only 4 will have keys, we'll eventually have to figure out which player would like their character to possess a key and which wouldn't mind if they didn't have one.

Soo....Iksander, any preferences?

...I want to be your wet dream, your daydream, your only distraction...
~O/O~A/A~Ideas~Cafe~
Status: Currently have my hands full running Bump in the Night. Always recruiting~!

Iksander

I'm inclined to say that Reggy doesn't have a key.  His incarnations have this nasty of habit of being killed.  A lot.  And especially with my personal leaning that the other sword guy would probably be a more regal figure, it makes sense that the other Sword Marked would be the key-holder.

And the link works great now. =)
I'm Just Some Guy.
Really.

Lady Kitsune

Purdy girl, Myobi.

*raises hand*  I have a question.  So, as a messenger, should we choose another sign besides the one we have as one of the Four?
I am working on it, I swear!

Esoteric Myobi

Iksander: Great, that was the feeling I got from your character anyway. Let's hope for another good and righteous swordsman then. =) (Though it doesn't necessarily have to be swords specifically -- just a note to any interested players for the spot!)

Kitsune: It depends really. The Messengers will be serving directly under the Four of the same Mark, so if you were to play a Messenger who was also a Sword then the interactions between your Messenger and the Four would literally just be one very very long scene with yourself. If you're fine with that (or prefer that) then go for it. If you'd rather interact with someone else and have a bit more variety then it'd probably be better to choose a different symbol.

For the picture link working: Yay! =D!

...I want to be your wet dream, your daydream, your only distraction...
~O/O~A/A~Ideas~Cafe~
Status: Currently have my hands full running Bump in the Night. Always recruiting~!

Lady Kitsune

*nods*  Perhaps I'll wait a bit for the other profiles, then.  Hopefully by the time this game is up and running, my brain will function normal... or abnormal depending on how you look at it.

Sorry Iksandar, I will not be your Messenger but Iseult is waiting and watching.   :P
I am working on it, I swear!

Iksander

Well, with any luck, Iseult will get to know Reggy quite well at some point.

Hopefully with all of these profiles up and this good bit of chatter, we'll be able to get some more interested people into the game. =)
I'm Just Some Guy.
Really.

Esoteric Myobi

I'm sure everyone will be getting to know everyone else in some way, shape, or form. =) Hopefully anyway...if not, at least we can all enjoy reading each others' wonderful works~!

...I want to be your wet dream, your daydream, your only distraction...
~O/O~A/A~Ideas~Cafe~
Status: Currently have my hands full running Bump in the Night. Always recruiting~!

TheHangedOne

#47
Name: Edgar Crowley
Age: 22
Race/Symbol: Human. Cup.

Weapon/Ability: Font of Life: Body and soul, suffused with the energy of life itself. Wounds he suffers heal at a greatly accelerated rate (approximately 3x faster than normal for a human).  His physical constitution is nothing short of spectacular. He can also channel the energy into another being, healing their wounds. Using his power in this way is exhausting for him, however.

Appearance: 5'11 or so in height, approximately 200 lbs in weight. Has an average amount of muscular strength, and a slight pot belly. His legs are very thick and muscular, however. His hair, which goes halfway down his back, and is often in a pony tail, is black with dark red streaks. His eyes are chocolatey brown. He has a full facial beard and mustache that has been dyed red and black to match his hair.  He tends to look quite somber. He has a small, grail shaped birthmark on the back of his right hand.

Personality: Kind, caring, compassionate, emotional, creative, and perhaps, just a little mentally unstable. Definitely an outcast in society.

Biography: Growing up, Edgar always used to love to read fantasy novels. Xanth, The Wheel of Time, Lord of the Rings, other, less well known but equally wondrous tales. As he grew older, his attention turned to writing, and playing roleplaying games.

Edgar's always been something of an outcast. nerd, dork, geek, whatever they called him, he didn't care. They were all stupid, too caught up in mundanity and the banality of existence, while he hoped  and searched for something more.

His talents as a writer are nothing spectacular, but he keeps on churning out short stories and longer, novella length works. He has no fame to speak of, and barely gets by on his meager take from meager sales.
A&A's and O&O's *Status: Here and there | Games: Aiming for punctuality*
"In prosperity, our friends know us; in adversity, we know our friends."
"In the ocean of knowledge, only those who want to learn will see the land."
"Before you roar, please take a deep breath."
Check out my poet tree!

Esoteric Myobi

Looks like we have our second Marked =) and a Key Holder too!

...I want to be your wet dream, your daydream, your only distraction...
~O/O~A/A~Ideas~Cafe~
Status: Currently have my hands full running Bump in the Night. Always recruiting~!

cere

#49
Ahem...Hello All.  I put this together while you all slept!! ;-)

Will it suffice??  Tell me if you want me to change anything...and I might!  :-D


Name:  Dr Joel Brandon
Age:    30
Race/Symbol:  Human, Pentacle (k)

Weapon/Ability:    
Sleight of hand – as a young prankster his dexterity was second to none and his confounding ability to pick pockets and entertain with magic tricks were legendary amongst his friends. Now in his final year of surgical residency as an ophthalmologist at the New York Presbyterian Hospital his surgical dexterity is lauded by his peers as simply brilliant. His hands are “the best in the business”.

Appearance:        
6', black hair, pale skin and azure eyes, his appearance is striking. His skin is unblemished except for a dark and distinct, five pointed star of discolouration on the inside of his right bicep. He dresses expensively but casually; his loose fitting clothes falling naturally on his balanced frame.

Personality:      
Hold him down, pin his arms to the ground, intimidate him, make menacing threats of violence and he will break into hysterical laughter. Joel is so confident in his own ability that he has never been in a position where he has been afraid of anything or anyone. Even his demonic drive to excel in his profession occupies only a fraction of his intellect and he would happily take another direction if something more interesting came to his attention.

Not everything in the garden is rosy, however. Joel has for a long time now danced through life to hide and cope with the fundamental and deep abyss that comes with not knowing who he really is. 

Blood red is his favourite colour for everything...especially when paired with black.

Biography:      
Born to Irish parents in Queens, Joel became a ward of the state when they both tragically died in a motor vehicle hit and run incident shortly following his tenth birthday. His ancestry was surprisingly non-existent when police attempted to find his blood relatives. It appears that his parents were not at all what they seemed; their supposed arrival from Ireland could not be traced and their source of income equally mysterious. Child welfare workers found no records to show that he had actually ever been born and the authorities had to create new papers to allow the mysterious child to grow up with any sense of belonging.


He had surprising resilience and his acumen became apparent during his first year at school following his tenth birthday. Teachers had no record of his early schooling, but his academic abilities showed that he had indeed received tuition and mentoring that placed him in a ‘very gifted’ category.  He excelled when he deigned to concentrate but academy during these years was not his principal focus. He made friends quickly and was in high social demand for his card tricks and magic that had everyone bewildered no matter how closely they scrutinised his hand movements.

Picking pockets was easy and taking ladies wrist watches from trembling arms and breathless girls was a regular pastime at the student union bar.  One of his less savoury achievements was presenting a particularly attractive, but obnoxious girl’s lace thong to her equally obnoxious and bewildered boyfriend across the table.

His later academic prowess is now a matter of record. Eyes are his principal obsession; his research has uncovered much more than he had believed possible. He notices not just the physical superficialities but the nuances of iridology, health and deeper psychological undercurrents manifesting through the eyes.

He has no long term lover, a series of sexual dalliances catering for his needs to date, although his ‘needs’ have been more demanding of late and a new obsession in this arena looks decidedly probable.



** Light is life.  Dark is divine!  **
  ~Ons and Offs of import~        ~Away times~

"The secret to living a good life is honesty and fair play.  If you can fake these, you've got it made!"  Groucho Marx