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Author Topic: Notorious! - M for F(Request Thread)  (Read 8147 times)

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Online NotoriousTopic starter

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Notorious! - M for F(Request Thread)
« on: May 02, 2018, 01:55:10 am »
https://coub.com/view/16e32x - Click to relax...

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My Personal Interests List:


Genres:

I'd say romance is an underlying factor with most threads/stories here at BD, but despite this I am aware that it is also not a requirement. So, if you do decide to ask to write with me, remember to specify whether or not you would like romance to be any part of our story.

1. Fantasy (Iron ages/Warring Kingdoms)
2. Psyfy
3. Post Apocalyptic
4. General Romance(I.E. Highschool sweethearts)
5. Historical Fiction/Figures
6. Futuristic Worlds
7. Murder Mystery
8. Comic/Graphic Novel(Heros and Villains)
9. Romantic Comedy
10. Horror
11. Suspense/Thriller
12. Western
13. Crime/Detective
14. Fable/Fairy tale
15. Slice of Life
16. Pure Drama
17. Psych Thriller
etc...

Feel free to request whatever genre I may not have thought of mentioning if you have an interest in writing something with me that you do not see available here. I'll pretty much try any genre, though. ^_^


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Settings/Story lines:


THIS LIST INCLUDES: Specific fandoms, War Legends, Cinematic story adaptations, TV shows and story lines, Eras and Civilizations, Anime/Mangas, Comic books, Video game story lines and worlds, Science Fic, Modern Legends/Lore, and last but not least Book story lines/Trilogies and everything in between.

Feel free to read through and if something starts your engine then let me know. ^_^

1. Kingdom Hearts
2. Skyrim
3. Gotham City/Batman
4. The Trojan Wars/Fall of Troy
5. The events of Spartacus/Story of Spartacus
6. The Marvel Universe/Sotrylines
7. Dante's Inferno(Games or the stories they are derived from)
8. Prince of Persia/Sands of Time
9. Assassin's Creed - Ezio's Trilogy/Storyline
10. A Pirate's Life - Pirates of the Caribbean
11. The battle of Thermopylae - Story of the 300 Spartan soldiers
12 Star Wars - Jedi/Sith - Master/Apprentice
13. Post Apoc World/Fallout games/Book of Eli
14. Vampire and Lycan love affair
15. Great Race War - Vampires against Lycan(Underworld)
16 Post Apoc Zombie thriller - The Walking Dead
17. Harry Potter - Events in the book OR post Potter/Post Second Great Wizarding War
18. Game of Thrones - During the events in the books OR post War for the Iron Throne
19. Lord of the Rings - During the events in the books OR post War of the Five Armies OR post Second coming of Dark Lord Sauron
20. Demon Hunter(s) against Demon(s) - The Mortal Instruments style role play
22. Fate Stay/Night * Fate/Zero - Events in the show or collaboration of our own
22. World War I/World War II/ Futuristic World War III
23. Post Apoc World War III
24. Dynasty Warriors - Asian Dynasty 10 years war
25. The Great Depression - Vampires/Lycan bootleggers
26. North American Mafia/Crime Families - The Godfather Story type
27. The Crusades - Kingdom of Heaven
28. Sherlock Holmes/Irene Adler - Events in the books or in the movies
29. Super Hero/Super Villain - Make your own characters

- Spidergirl/Venom
- Spiderman/The Canary
- Captain America/
- Wolverine/The Phoenix
- Mystique/Wolverine or maybe Gambit
- Gambit/X-23
- Gambit/Rogue
- Honestly all of these characters AND THEN some are interchangeable. I just got carried away with the examples, lol

30. Super Hero stories - Super hero collectives/groups as listed below

- X-men
- The Avengers
- The Super Friends
- Batman/Robin/Nighthawk/Batgirl/Catwoman

31. Fire Emblem(game) - This specific universe has a MYRIAD of different characters we could use much like the expansive universes of Marvel and DC.
32. League of Legends! - I don't know how I didn't include this idea for as long as I did, but this one is kind of like the last few I've mentioned. Tons of unique characters to work with.
33. My Hero Academia - Speaks for itself. Great anime.
34. Cowboy Bebop - Anime
35. Full Metal Alchemist - Come on. If you don't know this one then get out. :p
36. Naruto - Later events of Shippuden or extended story beyond it.
37. Gundam Wing
38. Pokemon - I'd even be down for a little Pokemon, but a more adult version would be most appropriate, I think.
39. World of Warcraft - Orges and Humans and Night Elves and Blood Elves and Trolls and shit.
40. Fairytail - Anime
41. DEMON SLAYER - Recently got into this anime and I love it. Would love to put together a story in that fandom for sure!
42. Haikyu! - Another one I recently got into which would be a great world for a slice of life story.

I'm also down for pairings that are not particularly linked to a fandom or anything, so feel free to request the following also!

1. Doc/Patient
2. Teacher/College Student
3. Football Star/Cheeleader-Dancer
4. Soccer Captain/Softball Captain
5. Psychiatrist/Patient
6. Best Friend's Sister
7. Best Friend's Brother
8. Childhood Friends/High school Sweethearts
9. Principle/Teacher
10. Boss/Secretary
11. Bartender/Patron
Ugh... there's so many Slice of Life options. Just feel free to use your imagination here. :P


NOTE: Recently I've been asked about doing stories with Nekos, Cat girls, Dog girls, I've been asked if incest stories are okay with me and a few other sexually taboo settings and stuff like that. I did just want to be straight forward and let everyone know that yes, I'm alright with kinks and taboos that aren't entirely common for the most part. I really just have a few "No no's" as for my preferences like not having any desire to write homosexual characters or plots, and that's not even because I would have a problem with it but that writing homosexual characters or plots doesn't do anything for ME personally. Some things I just don't enjoy, but I DO want you all to know that you can ask me ANYTHING! I'm an open book, and you might be surprised what kind of stories I'd be down for writing, whether or not there's even smut WITHIN the story at all. I started my writing personally on a Star Wars site way back in a time that they didn't even allow smut on the site, so trust me, I'm down for pretty much anything within my preferences and within reason. Just wanted to let everyone know! ^_^



Hope this list was a little more helpful in regards to my interests and a little easier to consider. Thanks peeps! :D




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Current Stories:


1. For Gods and Kings and Precious Little Things
2. As Hearts Reconvene
3. The Clash
4. Spiritbound
5. A Gift for the Demon King
6. Saving a Kingdom
7. Western Nightmares and Wayward Prayers
8. Along Comes a Pureblood



  Group Stories:

1. Kimetsu No Yaiba: Episode I - The Burden of Purpose CLOSED - until further notice
2. Demon/Human Role Play Game - Fight for Humanity
3. Covid Camp Party Game - Pandemic Party @ Camp Crystal Lake CLOSED - until further notice

  Solo Stories:

1. The Whiskey Sodden King[Solo Story]



Story/Post Tracker: Ewrimo Story/Post Tracker




Abandoned/Retired/Completed:

1. A Gundam Love Story
2. The Duty of a Queen
3. The Targeryan Reign: The Red Keep
4. Earth and Air; Fire and Stone
5. Returning Home
6. The Priestess of Light and the Paladin of the Seven
7. Pas De Syndicat
8. By Blood and by Ashes
9. Picking Up the Pieces
10. Of Cleats and Cuban Heels
11. Arranged
12. The Cold and the Calloused
13. The Woman from the North
14. The Blessed and the Damned
15. Of the Elves
16. A New Moon rising
17.  The Lion and the Lamb
18. The Rise of a New Lord
19. Straight A's and Accolades
20. Dance for Me
21. Angel of the Ninth
22. Untitled Adventure
23. Stuck in Colder Weather
24. Sweet Taboo
25. Yes Professor
26. A Test of Righteousness
27. When Friends Become Enemies
28. You Are Not Nobody
29. The Spider's Venom
30. When Darkness Prevails
31. Cities fall, Kingdoms Rise
32. The Gentle Hunter[HP]
33. The Pirate King's Jest - Retired by partner
34. A Witcher's Tale: Of Lies and Life Debts
35. Kings of Sand and Queens of Wine[Spartacus]
36. The Rise of Vengeance - Temporarily retired/Shelved
37. When the Darkness Returns[HP] - Abandoned
38. A Whisper to a Scream - Abandoned
39. A Deal for the Devil - Retired
40. A World beneath War - Abandoned
41. Progress Stops for No One - Abandoned
42. The Songbird's Final Cry - Abandoned
43. The Spider's Undoing - Temporarily shelved by partner
44. The Journey of a Heart, A Perfect Circle[HP] - Abandoned
45. The Marriage Law - Abandoned
46. Star Wars: A light in the Dark - Abandoned
47. Stolen Dance - Abandoned
48. Kimetsu No Yaiba: Skies of Ice and Lakes of Flame - Retired
49. Whatever's Left When the World Takes Too Much - Abandoned
50. Of Heroes and Villains: A Dark Pokemon Story - Abandoned
51. Clash of New Blood - Abandoned
52. The Frost King's Claim - Abandoned
53. I Never Knew
54. The Fallen Knight
55. Corruption


« Last Edit: September 14, 2021, 08:28:10 pm by Notorious »

Online NotoriousTopic starter

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Re: The Notorious A - M for F(Request Thread)
« Reply #1 on: May 02, 2018, 01:55:34 am »
Character Catalog



Characters Sheets:





1. Venge



Origin Story:
Venge was born to a race of Dusk Elves who were once upon a time imprisoned by mankind. When he was born it was on the night of a blood moon, which was a bad omen and meant that when he came of age he would bring only death and destruction to the world around him. This won the child a rather interesting name that was born of his father's Vengeful nature against the human race that enslaved he and his kind. That night, a prophecy was foretold and rumors began to spread of the one with golden eyes and white hair. The bringer of Death.

When he came of age, Venge embraced his legend and spurred revolt within his quick, careful, powerful and skilled race, most of which had been used as hunters and warriors by their human captor for decades. After more than fifty years of enslavement, their people fashioned weapons over the span of two years and hashed out battle plans against the humans. Their plan worked, and the revolt just so happened to fall on the night of another blood moon. A night when thousands of human beings were slaughtered in the streets or had their throats cut in their beds, while Venge stood at the helm of the madness with blood and ashes in his wake.

He now rules the Kingdom of the Fringe, far North of the other Human countries, his people now thriving in the cold terrain and growing in number. There he waits as his kind adjust to freedom, allowing his kind to prosper once more before he takes his war to the rest of the human world. The Fringe belongs to him now, and in the depths of the massive fortress, surrounded by walls two hundred feet tall of ice, stone and steel, he fosters his people while growing his strength and his influence.


Name: Venge - The Vehement One
Sex: Male
Preference: Heterosexual
Age: 27
Height: 6'7"
Weight: 249 lbs
Race: Dusk Elf
Eyes: Golden/Amber
Skin: White/Pale
Hair: White


"Venge writing sample"
The meeting had been arranged by the King, but there had been no conditions agreed upon prior to the meeting. The King had made his assumptions, of course, and believed their meeting was to be a diplomatic one, but what he did not understand was that the man he was meeting today was no King. He was no Ruler and he was no Lord. He was not of royal blood and he was no god. He was neither above the men and women he lead to war, nor was he beneath them. He was merely the strongest and most passionate of them all, and that warranted respect. That earned him the right to lead the Dusk Elves South to destroy boarders and rape the lands between them and human kind. What did not lay frozen in the wake of Venge was burned, consumed or syphoned for it's life, and in some places his mark was left so profoundly that nothing would ever grow again.

This was what vengeance sowed in it's wake. This was the path of Venge...


Hours passed by as the King and his guard waited there, horses growing tired on their feet and beginning to prance a bit in order to keep their powerful legs from falling asleep. Some of the men had even gotten off of their mounts and begun to make camp, a few tents being erected as fires were started and encircled by stones to create a safe and effective pit. They were making themselves at home in lands scarce of the human beings who used to inhabit it. Humans who had, weeks ago, moved on, clearing out of the path of Venge, for whispers of War and Death had preceded the movements of his people. Whispers carried by traders and journeymen racing South to find a safe enough Kingdom to place themselves inside of.

There was nothing but the sounds of chirping birds and water crashing down over the waterfall for the longest time, until a flock of the birds that had been prancing about on the tree limbs above them became spooked. A mass of flapping wings did roar as hundreds of birds took flight and hurried away towards the South as quickly as their wings could take them there. Odd as it was, some of the men were happy to be rid of the constant songs they sang, but only until they heard realized what was happening around them. Some had noticed long before the others who were distracted cooking meats and vegetables in a pot, but as a cold mist began to rise on all sides of the small platoon of men and their King, they all, one by one, began to notice the unsettling sounds of winter approaching them.

Soon the waters stopped tickling as the waterfall turned solid, ice forming and expanding across the once rippling waters that it poured out into. The trees, bushes and plants grew sickly looking, as if not expecting such frigid temperatures so quickly. As if Winter had come far sooner than scheduled, and in fact, it had, for Winter now followed one man who was so ruined by his past life as a slave that his hatred could chill a man to his core. A man who, at that present time, stepped out of the tree line first and revealed his half naked body, unaffected by the cold that was still sweeping over all of the once vibrantly colored forest around them. It was causing things to wilt, wither and break as the cold hung off of the flours and the trees, a wonderland of that blank, white, wasteland had formed, and it was of his and his people's doing. Their magic was unlike any other, and as the land was smothered beneath the white that rolled across the lands like a blanket, they all began to emerge.

One by one they stepped out from the trees, many of them white, pale blue, grey and even black of skin, most possessing the most unnerving gazes of blue and sea green orbs, but only Venge possessed those golden orbs that seemed to burn with fury as if they might catch flame at any moment. Only Venge stood head above the rest, a sneer on his pretty, yet scarred face as he stared down at the helpless fools who'd come to bargain with him, and as they noticed the man standing ahead from the North, they would begin to realize the hundreds of eyes that were watching them from all sides, all stood silent and entirely encircling the warm skinned Elves and the counterparts from the their kind.

Only one moved. That one was Venge, who let his long, powerful strides carry him towards those who were now so frightened that they'd all grabbed their weapons and encircled the carriage and their King who was looking rather afraid, despite making sure to continue looking proud. As the massive Dusk Elf took his steps, though, his black, elegantly crafted leather boots crunched into frozen leaves and snow as his bare chest seemed unaffected by the cold. From waist there dangled a red sash, and on the other side there was a sword lightly slapping his side each time he took a step, and across his chest there was a string that belonged to the bow running from his upper back down across his bottom and resting against his right thigh.

"Quis pugnetis pro eo?", he asked in his native tongue, knowing that none of them would have a clue what he was saying unless the King had been intelligent enough to bring with him a translator. "Hic crudelis et immitis regis...", he said, conviction in his voice as he stopped only a few feet in front of the King, golden eyes glancing back and forth to each of the faces of the men and women tasked with protecting their King during this meeting. Some of them held up pikes, swords and even arrows drawn to the bowstring, but not a single one of them would move to attack the man, for their show was one of courage, but they were losing their nerve. Their resolve was fleeting every second they stood in the presence of Venge and saw what true power was. Something that their very own King couldn't dream to possess. Nothing of the like, in fact, and this was no mystery to the one called Venge.

"He doesn't show it, but his very soul is quivering within that festering, fat encased heart of his...", were the next words out of Venge's mouth as he adjusted his language while eyeing the proud King, knowing the look of fear in someone's eyes far too well to mistake it in the King's gaze. "You there.", he whispered as he raised his hand and pointed towards a young female Elf who had an arrow drawn to the string of her bow, ready to release it if she dared. "Will you pierce my flesh with that arrow if I pull your King down, force him to his knees and split his skull?", he asked, his deep, yet soothing voice sending shivers down spines that could make someone question whether they were aroused or afraid.

Something about the way that little female looked, however, made him question her loyalty. It made him question her resolve. The eyes, ever the gateway to the soul, and her soul was trembling with fear.





2. Alistair Bane



Origin Story:
Alistair was aptly named by a father who was head of the Bane family, an Irish mafia family that gained control of a large portion of the American East Coast gun and drug trade over the last decade.

He became a hitman for his family when he was eighteen years old, having taken a handful of lives by the time he was only sixteen. He possesses his father's aptitude for mechanics, knowing the ins and outs of guns and machinery, though he also possesses a clear talent for killing and destruction.

Other Information:
Name: Alistair Bane - The Demon
Sex: Male
Preference: Heterosexual
Age: 25
Race: Human
Height: 6'3"
Weight: 184 lbs
Eyes: Blue
Hair: Blonde

"Alistair writing sample"
"You need to go to the hospital, Alistair.", said a young man in the front passenger seat of a black car. In the driver's seat was another, slightly older man, weaving in and out of a bit of night traffic that was always on the streets of New York, even at midnight and on the weekend.

"I just need to get somewhere off the street so we can get this bullet out of me.", he said calmly, though he gasped a sharp breath when he heard the clinking and clanking of metal being punched through metal. Along the side of their car a number of holes appeared as the vehicle was riddled with bullets, both tires on that side exploding as the car swerved and lost control. When it did, one of the men in the front seat screamed, "Brace yourself!", though Alistair couldn't make out who it was for all the commotion that was going on around them.

The car hopped up into the air, flipping and rolling over and over more than three times before it slammed into a curb and spun into a building. "Ugh... Mike... Vance...", he whispered as he gathered his senses and glanced up from the back seat of the car, but one of the men was nowhere to be seen, having been thrown from the car and ending up across the street. The other was hunched over, so much blood pouring out of his mouth that he couldn't have possibly been breathing at that moment. They were both dead, and Alistair the lone survivor left alone to find his own way. He put his shoulder into the door and forced it open with all his might, the warped door slinging open as the young blonde flopped out onto the sidewalk. He then picked himself up and stumbled out into a dark alleyway, forcing his tired legs to get him from a stagger to a walk, and then to a run as he escaped out into the belly of the city.

"Where is he!?", a man called out in the distance as he beat on the destroyed car with his hands, wondering where it was that Alistair could have escaped to. "Spread out and find him! NOW!", the man barked as the others with him scattered out in the surrounding area, leaving the scene of the accident before the authorities could arrive. Alistair was already gone, though, and with a good head start he was able to get about six blocks away before he finally collapsed on the stoop of an apartment building, pushing himself up into the corner of the entry door frame before he began to pick and prod at the hole in his arm, wondering if he could dig the bulled out himself or would he need to find something long to scrape it out.





3. Aviscus



"Lycan Form"


Origin Story:
Aviscus is a Lycan living among modern day society. He was born twenty years before the American Civil War and participated in the bloody conflict reaching the rank of Lieutenant before the war came to an end. As the years passed he took many lives, also having taken part in World War I and World War II, though he was never proud of his accolades. The longer he lived, the more like him he watched perish or vanish into the histories he lived through.

The one thing that set him apart from other Lycan was the one thing that always made him one of the most rare. He had only met one other like him in all of his years, but he knew they were out there. Those rare few who were born, and not created by the others...

Aviscus was of pure blood, born to be what he was, and royalty among the Lycan race...

Other Information:
Name: Aviscus - The Lycan
Sex: Male
Preference: Heterosexual
Age: 181
Race: Lycan
Height: 6'9"
Height: When changed is 6'2" from paw to the highest point of his back
Weight: 235lbs
Weight When changed is 572lbs
Eyes: Amber/Golden(in both forms)
Hair: Red(as a human) Autumn colors(as a Lycan)

"Aviscus writing sample"

*Story Note: This one can be a little confusing without a couple of notes. Firstly, my character is not the Alpha wolf and instead the largest of those present in the story. He is AN Alpha, but not the Alpha referred to that is leading his pack to the Cabin. Secondly, my character, in the story line, was charged with being the guardian to a young woman who returned to the cabin her parents had owned and passed on to her. Now, after their passing away and the young woman's decision to return to the cabin for a time or some sort of soul searching experience, Aviscus must return to and reclaim his responsibilities as her Guardian. Enjoy...*



Even in the summer the nights were cold in the forest, though a cabin like the one the girl had retreated into for the night would do well to keep humans warm. Unfortunately for her, though, places unnatural like cabins were always a perplexing thing by creature of the forest. Creatures that nest, creatures that scavenge, some creatures who get curious, but worst of all, creatures who hunt...

As the night set in, coupled with the cool night air that seemed to trickle out of the treeline, so did an ominous presence. The woods surrounding the cabin were dark and the groaning sounds of tall trees swaying with the wind could be heard as crickets chirped and frogs belly ached for attention. Soon, though, everything fell silent, as if the whole world had been shocked into silence, and one by one they appeared.

Pairs of golden orbs burst to life like little fireballs, glaring from the dark safety of the treeline. One, two, three sets then four, five, six, it seemed like they would never stop until a seventh pair flashed to life. All of them were slowly moving until large, hulking forms began to take shape, emerging from the heavily wooded area around the cabin.

They were all rather large, different shades of gray, black and brown, and their muscular bodies slipped quietly through he night towards the cabin. Their eyes were searching the area, making sure they weren't setting off any alarm, a larger alpha at the head of the pack who began crawing up the steps of the porch.

"Click... click... click...", went the long, worn nails of his paws against the wood.

--- post end--break for response--next post begins ---

The other clicks of claws against wood grew in number as the other wolves began to scale the steps. "Click... clack... click...", they went as they sniffed around the porch, looking for a way into the cabin, and as the Alpha began to scrape at the front door, a deep and echoing howl reverberated through the wilderness surrounding their area. Instantly every one of the wolves froze, and the Alpha even began to growl that very moment as the sounds of limbs snapping and leaves rustling could be heard.

From the trees a massive bodied creature burst out into the open, blacks, browns and reds in his coat of long, spikey looking fur that was standing up on his back. "Grrrrraughhhh...", the beast growled as it's golden eyes glared at the porch, the enemy pack having invaded his territory again, but the Alpha was the only one to growl back at this nameless beast while the others looked a bit skittish.

The massive hound rushed towards the cabin, claws ripping up earth beneath him as he bounded towards the steps, clearing them in one big leap. Before the Beta wolf could do anything about it, the obelisk of a hound has snatched it by the neck and thrust it into the wooden wall just outside the cabin, causing the entire home to shiver from the impact. "YARP!", yelped the creature in pain as it was slammed into the wall, and the very next second it was whipped through the air and thrown into the railing of the porch, snapping it and sending wooden pieces of railing in all directions as it fell to the cold and unforgiving earth in the yard.

A moment later the Alpha slammed into the massive wolf, but the other was only send sliding a few feet towards the others in the pack. When the largest of the animals slid to a halt, one of the others tried to snap at it's tail, but the large wolf spun on an slung it's big, thick skull under the other's chin and popped it with what looked like a wolf's attempt at an uppercut. The wolf that was struck left it's front paws, lost it's balance and went tumbling, head over heels, off of the porch, yelping himself as it landed on it's head. That victory for the lone wolf was short lived, however, for the Alpha had been waiting for that moment, opened it's powerful jaws and latched on to the back of the bigger wolf's neck.

"GRAUGHRP!", cried the largest wolf as it swung it's head back and yanked them both into the wall again, slamming them both into the house as he struggled to discourage the Alpha's grip.

--- post end--break for response--next post begins ---

The "TINK!" of the bat and the groan of the Alpha wolf caused the biggest of them to react violently. First his golden eyes sprang open as he felt the Alpha's grip loosen, and then he took one step back and threw his head up, pulling the Alpha up off of his feet. The bigger wolf threw the Alpha over it's back and into the wall, the Alpha's entire body clenching tight as he slammed into the wall and fell to the floor of the porch, head first. "Thunk!", went it's thick skull against the wood as it toppled over to it's side and began to skitter it's legs trying to get his footing, but it was too late. As it kicked and struggled to right itself and stand back up, the biggest of the beasts reached down and thrust it's open jaws against the Alpha's neck, pinning it to the deck of the home while the other wolves watched the battle ensue.

The Alphe was strong, and rather large, but was not nearly as meaty and tall as the other wolf, who pinned the Alpha down, closing it's jaws tight around his neck and inciting a yelp from the Alpha. When it's jaws closed the bigger wolf pulled the Alpha up, who was still struggling to pull away, but there was no escape. No salvation for the aggressive Alpha, who fought until the very last moment, as the other, autumn colored beast torqued his head and a loud, unsettling series of pops and cracks echoed through the night air.

The Alpha went limp in the other beast's jaws, and despite the almost three hundred pound beast hanging there from his mouth, the beast didn't move a muscle for the time being. He just stood there proudly, holding the other beast who was dangling from his jaws who's legs splayed out in an uncoordinated looking way. He shivered, his coat swaying back and forth with the skin on his back as he slowly turned and glanced out at the others that were encircling the cabin, all of which slowly bowed in a submissive way, but the tower of a canine didn't respond. He just huffed lightly as his chest swelled with pride and flicked his head, tossing the now dead Alpha out across the broken railing, the body colliding with the ground with a loud "Thump". He then narrowed his golden eyes upon the others and watched as a par of them crept up, reached their heads down and clutched their teeth into the skin of their Alpha. They then, along with the others, began to slowly walk away, back towards the treeline, and eventually they were gone. from sight.

"Raugh...", the beast huffed again it reached back and leaked at some of the blood that had collected in it's fur for a moment, but realized that it would make no difference right now. And so it began to slowly scale the steps to the cabin, one after the other, until it reached the cool, grass coated ground that it had been built upon. It's job was done, he was tired and sore, and it was time to find his way home so that he may rest.






4. Sora




Origin Story:
Sora(Sky) was born on an island he hasn't seen or heard from since he was just a boy. He was called upon by a higher power before he'd even known his preference for girls, and now he fights a war that tramples the lines that divide the worlds. There are world's that need him and those warriors like him pure of heart who can wield the legendary keyblade, and with it he will fight to set things right and return the galaxy and the worlds within it to its rightful balance.

Other Information:
Name: Sora - The Sky
Sex: Male
Preference: Heterosexual
Age: 17
Race: Human
Height: 6'1"
Weight: 167lbs
Eyes: Blue
Hair: Brown


He fights for the ones he loves and us all...


Quote:
"It doesn't matter how many worlds are out there... they all share the same sky..."

Note: New CANNON character that I've decided to piece together from what already exists about Sora in the KH universe. As such, I haven't had the opportunity to use this character just yet, and so he does not come with a writing sample. This is NOT my character, though bits and pieces of their information is pieced together by assumption on my part. Sorry to disappoint anyone if I have. The character is up for use in a role play, however, cross world or Kingdom Hearts is fine with me.





5. Riku



Origin Story:
Riku(Earth/Strength) is the long lost friend of Sora(Sky) and Kairi(Sea/Ocean) who, early on during the events that transpired involving their world and a host of other worlds that became bound together by fate, became lost to darkness and was set along his own path, apart from his friends, to complete a puzzle in which he might well be the most important piece. In that effort of fighting for control over his darkness tethered soul he will soldier on and free his mind, body and soul before he gives everything he has to offer in order to save his world and the lives of the friends he loves.

Quote:
"I've always wondered why we're here on this island. If there are any other worlds out there, why did we end up on this one? And suppose there are other worlds... then ours is just a little piece of something much greater."


Other Information:
Name: Riku - Strength/Earth
Sex: Male
Preference: Heterosexual
Age: 18
Race: Human
Height: 6'3"
Weight: 182lbs
Eyes: Blue
Hair: White


Note: My new CANNON character that I've decided to piece together from what already exists about Riku in the KH universe. As such, I haven't had the opportunity to use this character just yet, and so he does not come with a writing sample. This is NOT my character, though bits and pieces of their information is pieced together by assumption on my part. Sorry to disappoint anyone if I have. The character is up for use in a role play, however, cross world or Kingdom Hearts is fine with me.





6. Axel Cane



Origin Story:
Captain Abaddon is a typically serious man with agendas constantly on his mind, unless someone can coax him into drinking more than he should rightly try to stomach. On the rare occasion that he does wind up drunk, he becomes much more tolerable, flirtatious and outright delightfully funny and engaging. Otherwise, though, he is more worried with the movements of their fleet.

When not so up tight and worried about their next job, the Captain is rather quiet and often chooses to retire to his personal quarters where he gets a lot of planning and reading done. Otherwise he'll often disappear when they reach Bastion Bay or Port Royal and retire to his own devices.

Typically dressed in dark leather, black and red attire, the Captain keeps dark colors on at all times in order to remain unseen at night and keep his enemies from seeing him bleed. He believes that there is nothing less intimidating than an enemy poked full of holes, and if God is willing to let him continue his tirade through the Caribbean and the Islands around England, then no number of gun and sword holes will bother him.

Quote:
"Calypso's in a right shit mood tonight, yah bunch of bitches and bastards! Let's show thah salty cunt who she's pissan on!"


Character specific World setting:
The World Setting: In the year 1706, as salty as they come, Captain Abaddon of the Bishop leads a small fleet of four pirate vessels, all under his control, although he has appointed three others to oversee the operation of vessels he cannot direct himself. They, however, were not afforded the title of of Captain and instead are merely his ship operation subordinates.

The sweet spot of for anyone in his fleet is right there in the middle, on by far the largest ship of the four, the Bishop, where there are four stories of canons and three stories at the back of the ship offering seven rather lavish personal dwellings that he has awarded to his trusted Commanders. Three women, two men and himself make up the Salty Seven, a troop of pirates so vicious and foul that they only bother to gather together in times of war. Often times, though, one more more of them will take a smaller vessel off to undergo a mission given to them by Abaddon himself. Whether it be taking out a high priority target in the dead of night, stealing a ship that the Captain has his eye on or delivering and collecting on bounties taken while on the open sea.

He runs with some of the worst kind of filth that the Sea could possibly spit back up, but if a crew of liars, thieves and assassins can be given a purpose and enough riches, even they can be unified in order to work towards one, all inclusive cause. They'd have to be careful, though, as Britain has become intolerant of their kind and has begun issuing bounties for Pirates to be brought in, dead or alive. Such actions has caused civil unrest and a war across the sea is brewing.


Other Information:
Name: Axel Cane - The Demon Captain
Sex: Male
Preference: Heterosexual
Age: 32
Race: Human
Rank: Captain
Height: 6'8"
Weight: 239 lbs
Eyes: Grayish Blue
Hair: Dark brown

"Axel Cane writing Sample"

Captain Abaddon stood there silent, stoic as he ever was as his eyes studied the sea between his small fleet and Port Royal. That moment was profound, to him, as if he were playing a game with the sea and had been for the last few hours as he guided his men. Like a chess match on water, and the more violent the storm, the better the sea seemed to play. There was almost no winning when a storm became violent enough, though when Port Royal came into view, everyone on the ship seemed to breathe a sigh of relief. That, though, didn't seem to bother Abaddon, considering the fact that they hadn't made it there just yet, and to grow careless could cost many lives.

What did bother Abaddon, however, was the bitching he heard from the below the decks. A woman who ran his kitchen by the name of Rynn was at it again, barking at him like she owned the whole damn ship and didn't just maintain the kitchen, which didn't sit well with the Captain one bit. He was so often easy on his men, however, and rarely ever punished or berated them for their mistakes and shortcomings. This time, though, Abaddon felt a twinge of anger ignite a pit of stress that had been growing in him for two days now as they'd fought this damnable storm all the way to their destination, and as they were arriving, someone had bitched about the swaying of his pride and joy, the Bishop.

When Aric thrust the drink against his chest he took it from the man and stared at him, eyes dull blue and unwavering as he watched his crew mate that he knew was fond of the woman in the kitchen. He couldn't give a damn how much he fancied the bitch, however, for she had barked louder than she was willing to bite with a man like Abaddon, and he didn't put up with such things. As Aric made his way down into the ship to find his way to the woman, Abaddon raised the container and took a couple of large gulps of what was withing before casting it out into the sea. He then raised his right leg, tightened every muscle in his body, and as they neared the docks he thrust his foot down so hard into the ship just above the kitchen that his entire body shook from head to toe.

A loud "CRACK!", rang out around the ship, and much louder still the Captain's voice billowed out to the lot of the crew aboard his vessel. "SIIIIIIIIIIIIIILLLLLLLLEEEEEENCE!", he barked so loudly that every voice in across even the other ships faded and silence washed over the small Pirate fleet. Even the few Pirates and common workers that manned the docks and awaited the arrival of the incoming fleet stopped what they were doing and looked up, wondering where such a booming voice had come from, though by the time it had echoed across the water it had died down a bit. The anger in it, however, was still palpable the second it reverberated off of their skin and sank into their heads through their ears.

He stood there for a moment, glancing around his ship and glaring at a few of the men, all of which began to look unnerved and praying to god that it wasn't they who had done something wrong. "RYNN!", Abaddon then yelled, all of a sudden as he turned his eyes to the deck beneath his boots. "YAH BITCH TAH MEH BOUT THE WEATHAR AGAIN AND U'LL TIE YAH TAH THAH SIREN'S TITS ON THAH BOW!", he screamed down towards the ship, knowing she could hear him as he clutched his fists and maintained the most unnerving look upon his young and rather pretty face, though a rather thick beard had overwhelmed his features over the last couple of weeks.


"Now dock mah ship, yeh cross eyed, mangy fucks!", he cried out as instantly every body was in motion again while the ship neared the dock. One after one ropes were thrown to the men on the docks, each of which caught the ropes and pulled Abaddon's ships into Port Royal. "I still wunt mah drank, and if yah lot want to get drunk on MAH coin yah'd bettah pick up thah pace!", he called out as the men attempted to dock in what seemed like record time, despite the storm. As they neared the docks, though, Abaddon stepped up next to one of the younger crew mates and swatted the young man on the back, sending him toppling off of the edge of the ship, flipping head over heels three times before his kicking and screaming body struck the waves between the docks and the Bishop.

Instantly a small smirk found it's way to Abaddon's face as the crew on the deck of the ship all let out a ravenous wave of laughter before boots began to clunk and clack while crew members hopped off the ship and onto the docks. Abaddon, though, had been, and always was the first to board and the first to leave. His boots took slow, calm steps as he walked up the docks, passed up by the rest of the crew, some of which were actually running into Port Royal, but Abaddon rather enjoyed the such violent storms whenever he was on land.






7. Abaddon Vane



Nickname/Alias: The Vehement One
Age: 18
Height: 6'2"
Weight: 205 lbs
Eyes: Blue
Hair: Brown
Parents:
Father: Lycus Vane - 49
Mother: Soria Vane - 46
Siblings:
Brother: Tyson(Tye) Vane - 21
Brother: Jackson(Jax) Vane - 16
Sister: Leightra(Lee) Vane - 13
Place of Birth: London(England)

Style: Abaddon prefers nice suits, leather jackets, long sleeves and nice slacks to most other articles of clothing. Most often, you'll catch him in a very much in style and current ensemble, whether he be sporting the nicest jeans and leather jackets that money can by, or if he's dressed to impress wearing a suit with a nice belt, shoes and button up to boot. The only issue he ever runs into is, 'tie or no tie?', often opting to forgo slowly, gently choking himself all night long.

Spoken Languages: English, French
Pets: A 210 pound Black Wolf named "Lancer"
Wand: His wand is made of Elm and has a core of Basilik fang. It is 13 inches long, rigid to from end to end, all the way to it's core and incredibly difficult to wield if you aren't it's owner. It even gives Abaddon himself a fit if he isn't casting hexes and curses, for this wand is aggressive and always seeking out challenge. It was burned black when crafted and is elegantly carved.


Likes and Dislikes:

Likes:
+ Strong, confident Women
+ Nice clothes and cared for appearances
+ Reading/Writing
+ Dueling and honing his skill with his wand
+ Working to secure a future for his Pure-blood brethren and immediate family

Dislikes:
-- Mudbloods and Muggles
-- Loud, obnoxious or arrogant people
-- Liars and Cheats
-- Being told what to do or being pressured by law enforcement
-- Having to pretend or tiptoe around people's feelings


Habits/Mannerisms:

Abaddon is a typically quiet man who prefers silence to chaos. His eyes are constantly wandering unless he finds something worthy of his focus, which has been seen as insulting to some. Along with a staring problem, he is constantly conscious of his self image, making sure to always appear clean cut apart from the light beard he typically chooses to keep.

A whiskey glass is never far from his hand, despite his young age, when he's in a bar or his own home, for he possesses a similar penchant for drinking like his father. His hair is almost always a mess as well because he is constantly adjusting it with his long fingers when he is daydreaming or drifting deeply within his own mind.


Strength and Weaknesses:

Strengths:
+ Extremely Intelligent - Always looking to learn something that he does not already know.
+ Astute Observer - Possesses an extensive vocabulary and an innate skill for reading people's tells and picking out liars.
+ Determined learner - Particularly skilled with Hexes, Curses and other forms of offensive or aggressive magic. Refuses to let any form of learning or difficult spells best him.
+ Resilient Challenger - Accomplished and ever searching for opponents as a duelist who appreciates strong opposition.
+ Exceedingly Athletic - Well built and in near perfect physical condition after years of working as a wand for higher targeting Witches and Wizards marked for death.

Weaknesses:
-- Passionate Temperament - He is both passionate and unforgiving in the worst of ways, choosing to react too harshly often times whether or not he believes it to be warranted.
-- Self-critical - Isn't overly skilled in defensive magic, apart from a few barrier spells and basic defensive techniques. In turn he berates himself often times when he seems to be having trouble or struggles learning or understanding something.
-- Overly Analytical - In moments that don't necessarily call for it. Becomes enthralled with detail such to the point that it can be exhausting or even infuriating for others.
-- Impatient - Possesses no patience for insolence or disrespectful Wizards and Witches that try to adjust their social status by being arrogant or acting important. He also hates to be kept waiting, will not tolerate being told to wait and can't stand lines.
-- Obsessive - So eager to learn and broaden his horizons as a Wizard that he often times lets his personal gain and knowledge of magic get in the way of his and his family's best interests.



Biography:

Abaddon was born on a stormy day in London England to his parents Lycus and Soria, both of home were of Pureblood origin. Abaddon, although the pride of his father and deeply rooted in his mother's heart, was a bit of an accident for the young Witch and Wizard, but they were in love and had realized the fact long before Abaddon had come along. In the wake of Abaddon's birth, the pair were married and received a home as a wedding gift from Lycus' well off parents and family, and the rest, for them, was history.

Abaddon grew up like any, mostly normal, boy, becoming competitive in sports at a young age as he stumbled at his father's heels. A man he greatly admired and tried every day to keep up with to the very best of his ability. When he was of age, though, and the Ministy saw it fit that he and others of the age would become fit to begin learning magic, Abaddon took to the study of it like he'd been glued to the books for years. Impressed by his son's hard work, Lycus never had any problem providing whatever books or teachings that Abaddon required, going as far as hiring a personal dueling expert as a coach to begin teaching the young and promising Wizard after he had completed his sixth year when he turned seventeen.

Over the years at Hogwarts, Abaddon participated in Qudditch, which was his sport of choice, but never really took to sports after his schooling. He'd tried his hand as Chaser and Seeker, but when he realized that a professional career as a Quidditch player didn't align with his aspirations, he quit the sport and moved on. He didn't participate in the sport after his fifth year and didn't dabble in any school politics like attempting to become head boy of his house or try to win some popularity contest. He had work to do, things to learn and a life of Wizardry upon which he wished to expound upon.

As he grew into the Wizard he was meant to be, year after year studying tediously every day, Abaddon became an impressively intelligent Wizard. Eventually he learned about the skills regarding Legilimency and Occlumency from the extensive research he'd done on the abilities, but he was never successful in convincing his father to teach him these rare abilities. Like his father, though, Abaddon was convinced that he'd be more gifted in the ways of Legilimency than Occlumency, assuming that it was a way of confirming his bold, dark and oppressive nature as a Pureblood Wizard, and from that day forward, he embraced his families aspirations and began to write his own legacy. It was the only way to prove to his father that he was worthy of the teachings he did so crave.

Now in his final year at Hogwarts, Abaddon aspires to be a writer and press his newfound, Pureblood agenda, though his intentions were never as violent as those that came before him. In fact, he wishes no ill will upon others and merely believes that muggles and mudblood magic folk should merely be removed from the Wizarding world so that Purebloods might be the only ones to practices magic. He has, over the last year, been accepting contracts for assassination, however, at the behest of his father, who believes that Abaddon should need to know how to take a life without regret if he will ever make for a good Dark Wizard.

If he cared, he might not, but the money is good, and so assassination hadn't ever much bothered him either, though he would rather write to make his living in the magical society.

"Abaddon Vane writing sample"


Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
Year: 2048(50 years after the Second Wizarding War)



3:56 PM - Final period - First day

"Why the hell does anyone even like first days anyway? They're always so boring.", a young man of dark hair with striking features and piercing blue eyes asked to a pair of girls just over either of his shoulders. They were all Slytherin house 7th years, and they were walking to their last class of the day together. They seemed like a troop of friends, though really the young man was walking and a pair of impressionable girls who he figured were his friends were following him and paying next to no attention to anything but him due to infatuation. He was a man by the name of 'Abaddon Vane', and he was the first born of a family of specifically Dark Wizards who shared blood with a few of the very same Dark Wizards that helped Lord Voldemort during the first and second great Wizarding wars. Something that most wouldn't be proud of, though Abaddon very much was, and why wouldn't he have been? For if his ancestors were leading troops of Dark Wizards as Officers by the command of Voledmort himself then it meant they were a part of his inner circle. In fact, his great grandfather had been known as "Black Mass", which was Voldemort's given name awarded to his most prized and effective assassin.

Ryker Ellistran Vane...

He'd been a hero to Abaddon, despite his never meeting him, and for more than just being a truly great and renowned Dark Wizard. The biggest reason was one that most others likely wouldn't have understood anyhow. It made perfect sense to him, though, and only him that he would receive his Great Grandfather's wand, which he had made specific instructions for in the event that he passed away. For it had been a once great Dark Wizard's wish to pass something of incredible importance to him down to his Grandson's firstborn child. There had been only one stipulation made that was demanded be followed by the man, and that was that if it be a boy his name would be "Abaddon", the name for the future Demon of the Third Great Wizarding War. Fortunately that little bit of foretelling of a future where Abaddon rained down hell on earth for all Wizards not aligned with him hadn't reached the ears of the Aurors or the Ministry of Magic, though he highly doubted that the dreams of a crazed old man would ever come to pass no matter what kind of man Abaddon had turned out to be.

He just didn't know quite yet that he was meant for such great and terrible things...

"Are either of you even listening?", he asked after having talked practically the entire way to the Defense against the Dark arts classroom to meet their new teacher for the first time. He was sure that, whoever they were, they were tired after a long day of teaching, but certainly they'd be more interesting than the two googly eyed airheads following Abaddon around and saying, "Mmmhmmm!" and "Yea!", to everything he said without actually providing any form of valid or interesting input. "Ugh... you two are hopeless.", he muttered as he walked into the classroom and confidently glanced around at all of the other Gryffs, Huffs and Ravenclaws who had already made it to the class over the last ten or so minutes.

Most of them had become fearful of Abaddon partly due to his ancestry, but most had come to know him a rather vicious duelist with a rapier wit, and without a doubt he had only been truly challenged by a couple of classmates that were of any note when compared to a young prodigy like him. "Well then...", he whispered after the dead silence washed over the room for a bit too long, which caused him to smirk confidently as he realized it was he who was unnerving the other students. "...let's grow those spines back, shall we?", he asked rather cutely, laughing at them all under his breath as he walked off towards one of the empty desks at the back of the room.

"You'll all have a hard time sitting up straight in class without them, I expect."







Disclaimer: SOME of this content, as well as most of the images that I use, are copy written. All rights are reserved by the author(s) of pre-existing characters pulled from comic books/Animes/TV shows/movies and sometimes solo artworks that I have not created by way of my own imagination and/or constructive efforts. All image rights are reserved by the artists who created them and they are merely being borrowed in an effort to give fellow writers and readers just a taste of what both my original character concepts and borrowed Fan-Fiction based characters might look like and dress like. None of this content, apart from some of the original character backgrounds, bios and story lines, actually belong(s) to me in any way. I do, however, reserve the rights to my own content pertaining to the characters that I have fabricated over the years that I have been a writer which I have put on display for you here in my character catalog. I reserve all rights to my own unique content including my compelling characters and story lines/stories pieced together and constructed for you to share in and enjoy. Thank you!




Write with your heart, not your head.

- N
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Character Catalog - Pt. 2





8. Gideon Bartholomew Jaeger



"Alternate Costume"
"Vampiric Form"

Name: Gideon Jaeger
Sex: Male
Orientation: Heterosexual
Age: 24
Race: Hybrid - born of a Father who had been a Vampire and mother who had been a Human
Height: 6'4"
Weight: 216 lbs
Eyes: Amber/Gold(Red when his Vampiric side is triggered)
Hair: Black(White when his Vampiric side is triggered)
Build: Gideon sports a stout build with quite a lot of height and weight to him. His shoulders are broad and his midsection is thick with muscle. He is heavy and balanced as a man, though nimble possessing incredible agility. His mixed heritage allows him to walk in daylight, feed upon human food and blood if he chooses and provides him incredible strength and speed making him the ideal Demon Hunter.
Father: Barrick Jaeger - 762 years
Mother: Arlissa Lattemore - 41 years

Origin Story:
Gideon was born to a Human mother in a dark realm known as the Shadowlands. It was a region far North of most other societies which neighbored a region of  Norsemen who were a part of his ancestry on his mother's side. His father had been a Vampire of more than 700 years, and when he had seduced Gideon's mother he was fully intending on giving her a child with the intent of creating a hybrid offspring because he believed that a hybrid child would carry only the advantageous traits of both races. Thus Gideon was born.

A few weeks after his birth his mother stole him away, slipping out of the Shadowlands using a secret path that she had been shown by a priest who had been forced into servitude by Barrick himself. He had been serving in a dark monastery for years, and over the many years that he had been serving he had begun to dig a tunnel beneath the evil and unholy place. He had been planning to use it in order to escape himself, though he did not fully understand the purpose for it's creation until Gideon came into the world. He knew his purpose the moment he'd heard the cries of a child that would be ripped apart by two races who would war over his possession, and so he smuggled Arlissa and Gideon out through his tunnel, found a Norse Kingdom far North and chose to start a church there in order to teach the Norsemen the ways of God.

Years would pass, and as Gideon grew into a young man he was advised and taught be the priest, who he respected and looked to as a father figure. Gideon was strong, however, something which the priest known as "Tylas of Voss" and so he began to train the boy, arming him with knowledge of demons and how to kill them if he ever was presented with a dangerous situation involving one. Now, as a grown man, he is well aware of his heritage and his abilities that come hand in hand with his father's blood that runs ever through his veins. He has become a vessel for the word of God, sharing his written word with any and all who choose to hear it. He carries a bible with him and wears a cross around his neck, anywhere and everywhere he goes knowing that one day he'll need them more than his silver stakes and his silver bolts. He knows well that one day it will be his father coming for him, and on that day he knows that he'll have to be ready.

Quote:
"You bring the dead. I'll break the stakes."

"Never be silent... Sing, instead, at the top of your lungs."


Character specific World setting:
This character is designed to fit into practically any world setting that could possibly involve things supernatural. He can easily be applied to anything involving Iron ages settings and beyond leading all the way up to modern settings. He would fit just as well in 18th century London as he would modern day New York. He could also be dropped into different story lines as well, like those either very close in comparison to OR ones entirely based in universes like Game of Thrones and Lord of the Rings.

"Writing Sample"



New York City, New York - 2:17 AM
Saturday - October 23rd


Lightning webbed across the skies above New York and formed it's intricate, blue web moments before the rumble of thunder caused the ground to tremble beneath a pair of big, dark brown knee high boots. The storm had been raging on all day, just getting worse and worse as the night came full swing and consumed the island city of steel and concrete. It was certainly one of the worst storms the year had managed to offer the Northeastern state, though the one who'd been in those boots that very moment had seen far worse in his day.

"KERBOOOOOooooooooooooooooooooooooommmmmmmmmm...", another snap of thunder reverberated through the clouds, able to be heard before he felt the ground trembling beneath his feet lightly, causing the towering man who was leaning against a brick wall in a dark alley between a bar and a soda shop to raise his head in response to it. Slowly, but surely, the rain pattered down across his broad hat at the same pace it had been for more than an hour as he stood there awaiting the mark he'd been tailing to finally leave the bar aptly named "Daddy's Cabinet". He'd been growing tired of it, in fact, and he was presently smoking his seventh cigarette as he mulled over how it was that a Soda shop, full to the bring with an assortment of candies, soda drinks and ice cream, had been situated so closely to a bar that was provided such a provocative name. In truth, it was beyond him who'd laid the first brick, but he had to think that the bar had been the newer installment.

It had been enough to contemplate for a while, though, as he thought about what it must have been like for children to stroll along every day to pick themselves out a soda or a candy bar from the shop only to stop and gaze upon the neighboring establishment, which was doomed to be nearly all of their futures. Such irony only existed in life, however, and never could it be so perfectly drawn together artificially. Never could it have been painted so well or told in a story with such ease unless someone had actually seen the layout of the shops standing side by side and connected the dots of destiny between the two, and if they did they would have been a master of their craft.

The air was cold, and as the tendrils of white trickled up along a pair of pale, flared nostrils, the front door to the bar opened abruptly and out walked a fair young woman with dark locks of hair and a black dress upon her tight little frame. Her heels clicked against the cement with each slow step that she took until she reached the edge of the awning with her escort, who's arm she had taken in order for him to escort her outside. "Why thank you, sweetie.", she chirped as she glanced over to the rather eager looking young man of curly, blonde hair that reached down to his muscled shoulders. "Absolutely.", he said as he released her for a moment so that he could take her umbrella and open it up before he held his arm out for her to take again and raised the contraption above their heads. Once she took his arm a second time they stepped out into the rain together, seemingly as happy as could be, though that wouldn't have been true at all. One was happy, sure, the other, though, was quite famished...

---   ---   ---   ---   ---   ---   ---   ---   ---   ---   ---   ---   ---   ---   ---   ---   ---   ---   ---   ---   ---   ---   ---   ---
Twenty minutes later...


New York was one of the tallest cities in the world by far, not to mention one of the most populated. It's allure, however, had always been defined by the towering structures that ruled the skyline. They were glaring works of art executed by countless architects who'd one day had a vision, and because someone with money had decided they rather liked the vision constructed in the minds of far more talented individuals, they spent their monkey and saw the life's work of other people done. They had chosen to see those etchings that had come to life on a sheet of paper upon someone artist's desk, and now they ruled that skies of a city that dwelt on money and political clout.

That night was no different than any other, despite the heaver rain than usual that was a foretelling of the massive hurricane that was heading up the coast from from Virginia that was only just now passing over New Jersey. Wet was normal. Cars at extremely late hours of the night was normal. Even guys picking up young women from a dim, dank old bar was as normal as it got in New York. What wasn't normal was the smell of decay that the young blonde had somehow missed on the young woman he was walking along with. Something that a one Gideon Vayne had't let slip for even a moment as he slipped from alley to alley behind them, following them all the way back to the young man's apartment on the upper east side where the class of citizen was a little higher and the cost of living was roughly five times more expensive than that of the Bronx.

"Let's get you inside so we can get you all warmed up.", the young and now far more confident blonde man whispered down to the now downright devious looking young woman on his arm. "Alright, sailor. Lead the way.", she said in response, her tongue clicking in her mouth as she watched the young man turn and lead her up a set of stone steps so that he could open a door the lead into a long, narrow hall housing only a janitor's utility closet and a set of stairs in the back. He lead her through it, up to the second floor, and found his way to his home, who's door he unlocked and pushed open before escorting the girl inside before swinging it shut behind him, not even bothering to lock it considering the fact that he lived in a much safer part of the city than most.

"What'll you have to drink?", the young man asked a she let the young woman's arm go, though as he turned away to reach up to his cabinet so that he could find a couple of glasses and a bottle of whatever choice drink she chose, he was frozen when he heard her voice. "Oh I dunno that I'm much thirsty, sweetie, but I certainly could go for a BITE TO EAT!", she said, her last three words practically growled as she began to change, her skin turning dark and gray as her hair began to fade into gray and black stands that seemed to float as she began rising up into thin air. The look on his face changed from one of confidence to confusion as he turned around to behold the truly awful sight, and then, in an instant, he took on a third expression of horror as she darted through thin air across his kitchen, gawking, wide mouth opened and aiming to take a massive bite out of the mortal man flesh he was sporting.

"Get out of the way!", called a deep and commanding voice as the front door was thrown open and a tower of a man stood within it's frame brandishing a crossbow with two hands. Instantly he let the black steel bold fly, and as the rod with a sharpened, eloquently carved tip and black fletching zipped through the room the horrible creature known as a Banshee turned and watched as the bolt slammed into it's throat and slammed it into the nearby wall, pinning it in place and causing it to writhe in pain as it struggled to pry itself free. "GUAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!", she screamed at the top of her pierced lungs while the Hunter raced through the home and hopped up onto the counter top, grabbing the end of the arrow bolt and pushing it harder into the wall so that she couldn't break free.

"Time to go to hell, bitch... it's been waiting for you for a very long time...", the man's deep voice whispered as he yanked a glaring silver blade from a black leather sheath. It was a slightly curved, resembling a hunter's knife, though it was constructed of a melded type of metal. Steel and silver made up the compound from which it was made, which allowed the steel to reinforce it and make it strong while the silver provided the demon vanquishing properties. It was a perfect blade, and one that never left his side. "...let go...", he whispered as he jammed the blade harshly into her chest, the tip of which ripped through whatever was left of her withered and broken heart, causing her to shiver in his grasp as he kept her pinned up against the wall. "Shhhhh..." he whispered as her horrible features began to fade deeper and deeper until she began to crumble into dust within his powerful hands.

And then she was gone...

Nothing bot a pile of smoldering ashes that had was resting atop one of his boots, which he pulled free of the pile and shook off before hopping down from the counter. He then headed off towards the door, though before he left he remember the young man and stopped himself, reaching out with one hand to rest his hand along the frame. "Oh, and uhhh... you should be just fine. Just make sure to go ahead and vacuum that up and dump her as soon as you can. Don't want any spirits getting comfortable in your apartment, after all. A spirit might not be able to kill you like a Banshee could, but they're certainly annoying and they'll keep you up at night wailing and whimpering.", he said, to the young man who's expression never changed for even a moment as he watched the tall man sporting a dark duster and a big hat with his wide, blue, unblinking eyes.

"...alright then... have a good night.", the man then said, not knowing honestly what else to say as he stepped out the door and shut it behind him, hurrying down the hall as he pulled out a bit of paper in his pocket that had four names on it, two of which were crossed out. Producing a pen he marked a third name off the sheep, glanced up at the last name and then folded the paper up before tucking it back into his pocket. "Last stop of the night before bedtime...", he whispered to himself, smirking as he pulled the loose collar of his shirt up so that he could cover his pale young face with it. The next second he was gone, having raced out into the night so that he could disappear into one of the many networks of alleyways that the city was built upon.






9. Remy Lebeau



"Alternate Images"

Name: Remy Etienne Lebeau
Age: 24
Sex: Male
Orientation: Heterosexual
Height: 6'2"
Weight: 179 lbs
Eyes: Black sclera with red pupils
Hair: Auburn/light brown
Build and features: Remy is tall and lean, though his shoulders are considerably broad and he is in near perfect physical condition. He is sculpted, from head to toe, and possesses sharp facial features like a thin, attractive nose as well as a square and powerful jawline. His eyes are captivating, as they are naturally red and always have been, which set him easily apart from practically everyone else.

Power Scale:

DURABILITY:▮▮▮▯▯▯▯
ENERGY:      ▮▮▮▮▮▯▯
FIGHTING:   ▮▮▮▮▯▯▯
INTELLECT:  ▮▮▮▯▯▯▯
SPEED:        ▮▮▮▯▯▯▯
STRENGTH:  ▮▮▮▯▯▯▯

Weapons: Always has a few decks of playing cards and carries with him a telescopic bo staff everywhere that he goes.

Abilities: Gambit is bilingual, fluent in both English and French, and also possesses the ability to throw small objects - including knives, throwing spikes, and playing cards - with extraordinary accuracy. He is also a skilled duelist and fencer.

Powers: Gambit has the mutant ability to tap into the potential energy contained within an object and transform it into kinetic energy upon touching it. When Gambit thus charges an object and throws it at a target, the object releases this energy explosively on impact. Gambit is unable to use this power to charge living objects. / As Death: He can control deadly gas
After surgery performed by Mister Sinister, Gambit's powers were restored to their natural potential. He was able to use his power simply by looking at an object that he wished to charge, including living tissue. Gambit could also manipulate the potency of the energy release and could even exercise a measure of control over time. Following his climactic battle with the New Sun, Gambit lost this enhanced level of power.

Gambit's ability to tap energy also grants him superhuman agility and dexterity, as well as creating a static interference that shields his mind from detection and intrusion by even the most powerful telepaths.

Gambit also possesses a hypnotic charm that allows him to exert a subtle influence over any sentient mind. This power allows Gambit to compel others to believe what he says and agree with anything he suggests. More powerful minds have proven immune to Gambit's charm.

---
Bio: Gambit has a storied biography that can be found here-> http://marvel.com/universe/Gambit#axzz5EJWx6HyN.





10. Conall Kazimir



Known as: Obelisk
Real Name: Conall Kazimir(Conall meaning "Strong wolf" - Kazimir, a Russian Surname meaning "Destroyer of peace")
Given Names: 'The Destroyer', 'The Void', 'The Vehement One'
Age: 26
Sex: Male
Orientation: Heterosexual
Height: 6'10"
Weight: 274 lbs
Hair: Blonde
Eyes: Blue

Universe: Marvel/X-men/Avengers
Role: Villain/Antihero

"Body Type"


Body type: Conall is a massive man standing nearly seven feet tall and possessing his father's broad shoulders and thick chest. He is in nearly perfect physical condition wrought by a life of constant fighting and struggling to survive in a world that never wanted him in the first place.

Powers: Conall is incredibly strong, possesses speed and agility far beyond the reach of mortals and was gifted a considerably intellectual mind and sense of perception. His true power, however, is a null zone that his body has always, is always and will always produce. He is not impervious, despite being exceedingly resilient, but he is specifically resistant to the elements. Ice does not chill his skin. Fire does not burn him. Even the earth will wither beneath the touch of his fingertips. Despite all of this, he can be cut by the smallest of blades or pierced by the tiniest caliber of bullet.




Biography:

Conall is exceedingly resilient and has incredible and inhuman strength. He also possesses above average speed and agility beyond that of a natural Human being while secretly relying on an enhanced perception of the world surrounding him. He is quite intelligent when it comes to out thinking his enemies and boasts a broad understanding of Human beings and their sinful tendencies, allowing him to be practiced in the arts of lies and manipulation. Other than this, however, he isn't much special and might not be overly threatening to any true Superhuman if not for one underlying trait that has never needed to come to light, seeing as he hasn't even truly declared wars on neither the Heroes or Villains of the world.

Conall's true power comes from his genetic code, passed along by a mother with a raving temper named him Conall in the hopes that he would become a feared man one day like she had always wished his father had been. His father, however, had never pleased Conall's reckless mother, for he was a large and powerful, yet docile man who never harmed anyone, despite his endless sea of stress that came at the cost of working a boring and tedious job day in and day out for a boss far intelligent than him. He worked for the greedy and spineless and took money from the meek and confused as a stock broker up until he could take no more. So, one day he took his pistol up to work, ready to end life of his boss and the men he always caught laughing and joking about the people they lied to and abused during all of their board meetings, but before the moment came to take the lives of snakes he chose an alternative that he knew would only warrant his loved ones sorrow and shame.

He made his way to his desk, sat down, put the gun in his mouth and pulled the trigger.

Since that day Conall's mother was broken, having always argued with his father that he should just attack the world that slowly but surely destroyed him, but he never did. He showed the resolve and the patience that she'd never had, and as much as she hated his inaction, she was also jealous of his ability to resist the pull of anger and hatefulness that she near constantly felt for the world that had hindered them every step of the way through their lives. The death of the father was hard on a boy only just becoming a man, and because he checked out he had always thought his father a coward, and so he grew up wanting to be nothing like the man he'd admired more than any other up until the day he'd taken his own life. He didn't want to be remembered for swallowing a bullet. He wanted to be remembered for what he did when he decided to take his hatred out on a world that had never been fair to him or his family from the start.

He had his father's strength and resilience, but he also had his mother's blood, which possessed that little spot of darkness that was left to fester in him until it grew into what it was always meant to be. His father had passed on his inhuman and mutant genetic code, but his mother had spoiled his heart with fearfulness and rage, causing him to develop his power into something dark. He became the physical embodiment of anger and sorrow, his heart as black as a burned out star. His ability was born once he fully matured and became a man who was well aware of the woes of the world and it's unfair way of grinding the weak and the helpless just a little bit deeper into the dirt. And so he became a living void.

And so he became "Obelisk"...




"Conall's writing sample"



Manhattan Bridge, New York - 4:52 PM

By that point his eyes were tired and the alcohol had been soaking his veins for more than two days now, for he hadn't stopped drinking since the moment he decided he was going to go to war. In fact, he hadn't slept for even a minute since he'd decided that the fucked up world he'd been born into had only gotten worse, every day, since the moment he'd taken his first breath. It had gotten darker, colder and far less tolerable, as had the people in it who thrived on greed and envy. It was time for a great purge of mankind so that the slate could be wiped clean, which meant that people would have to die and structures would need to fall so that the world could begin to forget. So that the world could understand that it wasn't just missing out on forgotten morals and the values of their respected  forefathers, but it was missing out on everything. Humanity had lost it's way, and in the process it had taken one step further past self mutilation and gone as far as to sell it's soul to the devil that was constantly breathing down the necks of the few who actually deserved that chance at salvation.

Those weak and those humble few of modest upbringing would be left alone so that the world could get back to the way it was when love and compassion glared back at the power hungry and selfish. When family meant more than business associates and your homeland was more important than the financial standing you could gain by going to war in the right place and at the right time.

"This place... it's worse than hell.", he whispered to himself, mustering the courage to do what he needed to do in order to get the gears turning on his grand design. "...because at least in hell you can see the whores, gluttons, sodomites and the murderers as plainly as day...", whispered further, suggesting that for all of the horrors that hell certainly contained, there was a single, redeeming quality that set it apart from the world stationed above it. There was a single factor that made that mortal plane of existence even more unnerving than any hell he had ever imagined. "These people... they hide in plain sight... wolves in sheep's skin lurking among the innocent and gnashing their teeth as they wait for their moments to strike. They rape and they abuse. They lie and they cheat. They steal and they kill. For what? Something you think you want? Something you think you need? So... you would let your brothers and sisters suffer just to have a little more on your own plate...?", he then asked, though this time he said it into a little, black device that had an antenna protruding from it's top. It was clear that he was speaking to someone. That he was addressing others and not just rambling away to himself.

There was an audible click followed by a bit of light static after those words had been spoken, and then, after contemplating this decision all day long beneath that very same bridge, he finally said it. He finally gave the world what he knew it had been needing in order to begin it's cleansing of an immense scale. "Blow it...", he grunted into the little box before he crushed it with his bare hands, spark leaping from his clutched fist as the pieces trickled away from his tightly wound fingers. Then, just seconds later, a series of booming sounds began to erupt all across the city as he pushed himself up and pulled a small device from his pocket.

"Boooooom... Boooooom... BOOOOMMMM!", the last explosion sounded far closer than the rest, and as eh glanced over he could see the foundations of the neighboring bridge falling into collapse as the bridge began to wrap and rip apart, despite the five O'clock traffic it was only moments ago supporting. He then raised the little tube shaped device in his hand, clicked a red button on it's top and raised his deep blues to see the charges going off along the bottom of the bridge and along the pillars that held it up. This bridge did not fall, however, and instead, as it trembled and shook, it held strong, which quickly had sewn a seed of frustration in the man who pushed himself up from his seat on the ledge he had been watching from. the steel pillars had been ripped and torn by the blasts that had occurred only about thirty or so feet away, but they had managed to hold their own through the blasts of the charges. So, with added frustration, the man gritted his teeth, tightened every muscle in his entire body and ran at the nearest steel pillar, which was still smoking, it's metal groaning from the blast.

"URAGGGHHHHHHH!!!!", he cried out as he lowered his shoulder and barreled into the pillar of steel, looking almost ridiculous running at the massive thing like a wild man who didn't realize just how small he was in comparison. Onlookers would have been surprised to see such raw and hateful power in the flesh, however, for as he collided into the first support the bridge shuttered ever so slightly. He then dug in, pushed and slowly but surely he began to peel it up out of the concrete it had been set into years and years ago. Metal groaned loud and the bridge began to shake again as this bear of a man tore and thrashed at the steel pillars, and only a few moments after he slammed into a second did he began to hear the supports begin to snap and the concrete begin to crack and shift above him.

"Burrrrrrnnnn to cinder and ash! Return to dust... you godless insects...", he cried out as he stepped back and watched the bridge begin to fall all around him, cars toppling off of it as it writhed and shook before it finally snapped in two and began to collapse.







11. The Twins - Gabriel and Michael




"Before the Fall"



Legal name: Tristan McCann
True name: The Archangel "Gabriel"
Age: 25
Sex: Male
Preference: Heterosexual
Rank: Archangel - The Messenger
Height: 6'4"
Weight: 234 lbs
Eyes: Blue
Hair: Red
Innate abilities: Empathic(can feel emotions, yet not read the thoughts that provoke them) - Extreme Intellect - Above average strength and agility for a human being. - Also possesses a unique ability to understandany language or dialect while being able to communicate in return with little to no effort. - His presence is calming to the mind and his touch is healing to the spirit and the body, though he refuses to use many of his abilities because it further alienates him from the rest of society.

Distinguishing marks: Tristan possesses a pair of tattoos that run along the insides of his forearms. His right arm reads "Salvation", and his left arm reads "Damnation". There are also a series of biblical verses etched into his skin across his right peck, along his right and left sides, and "the prayer" of Psalms 23:4 which is etched from the top of his back to his lower back in elegant text, which reads...

"The LORD is my shepherd; I shall not want. He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me beside the still waters. He restoreth my soul: he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name's sake. Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me. Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies: thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over. Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the house of the LORD for ever."
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He was also gifted a head of glaring red hair at birth, which has only gone to further alienate him from the rest of society despite his innate abilities. As beautiful and articulate a young man as he is, Tristan sees no point in trying to be a part of a society that does not want or need him.






"Before the Fall"



Legal name: Alistair McCann
True name: The Archangel "Michael"
Age: 25
Sex: Male
Preference: Heterosexual
Rank: Archangel - The Warrior
Height: 6'5"
Weight: 223 lbs
Eyes: Green
Hair: Black
Innate abilities: Telepathic(can see thoughts, yet not feel emotions regarding them) - Extreme Perception - Above average strength and agility for a human being. - Also has an innate ability to bolster confidence and morale in other beings of any race or credo. As long as there is a reason to unify for a common cause, Alistair can instill a heightened confidence and determination in his peers. - His presence instills confidence and raises spirits while also being able to physically empower any individual that he touches.

Distinguishing marks: Alistair possesses a few tattoos as well, most only pertaining to his favorite scripture from the bible, though not as many as his older brother. Across his right shoulder the word "Heaven" is etched in elegant writing, and across the left "Hell", suggesting that he and his brother were born and have lived their lives with that constant reminder that life and your approach to it all boils down to a decision. Good or bad, heaven or hell, salvation or damnation. Their beliefs, instilled by their very religious mother, were born of faith and fear. He also has one sleeve running from his wrist up to his shoulder of his right arm.

There is a scar over his right eye where he was cut with a blade in high school when a mugger attempted to harm him when he resisted. He killed the man that night, though it hadn't been an encounter ripe with anger or intent. He admits it as his greatest of errors in his lifetime.





12. Vennic Kenobi



Name: Vinnic Kenobi
Age: 27
Sex: Male
Preference: Heterosexual
Alignment: Dark/Sith
Family: Kenobi
Height: 6'4"
Weight: 223 lbs
Eyes: Amber
Hair: Dirty blonde
Birth planet: Mygeeto
Sign: Scorpio
Fighting Style: Dual wielder
Combat Forms Mastered: Makashi, Ataru, Djem So, Niman, Vapaad, Jar'Kai

Info: The last of the Kenobi line and the great, great grandson of famed Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi. Vinnic is cold, rigid and in some ways awkward around others, having grown up with only a harsh Master to interact with. He was taken as a boy, stolen from a dying mother and a defeated father in the swelling aftermath of a war against the new Jedi Order called "The Gray Order". An order that had been created in the interest of setting aside the differences of both the Sith and the Jedi so that all could learn and grow beneath a single banner, and for centuries there was peace.

Peace never last, however, and struggle was a natural and necessary element in the galaxy that was not to be stricken from it entirely. Centuries of near constant peace since the final war between Sith and Jedi had allowed the people of the galaxy to become comfortable with that peace, and the very moment that they suspected that it would be permanent, Vinnic had been born to the world, and so too was his counterpart, and together they would bring back the balance of the light and the dark to the galaxy.

Lives would be lost for it, but those lives would meet their ends precisely when they were meant to, for the galaxy was incomplete without war, death and a measure of chaos that the light could bring back into balance by combating it. Just as the sun needed the moon, so did the light need the darkness...


"Vennic's Writing Sample"


The War of the Damned

Coruscant
The year 65 ABY - December - 1:27 AM


Coruscant...


The golden and slate colored jewel of the entire Galaxy, ever to be contested territory of any and all true factions that ever had a chance to rule or to establish a Democracy. It was the pinnacle of wealth, technology and progression for the Republic now, and had been the same for the Empire that had controlled it before that, and back and forth the planet would roll as faction after faction fawned over and fought for it, only to be destroyed in the wake of obsession. Time and time again there had been wars waged in the surrounding space, ships being obliterated and costing thousands their lives, yet it was but a drop in the bucket to a galaxy so vast. All of these lives expended fighting over a shimmering rock that just so happened to become something great when a few people settled upon it too many years ago for anyone to have ever been able to count. They'd been recorded as "The Architects", and next to the sparse few lines that described who they were and where they'd come from there was a date that was left blank, and it would always be so.

There was no telling where it had come from, for the Galaxy was of an untold and unfathomable age, and so most of history up to that point was merely a speck in the grand scheme of all things. A star among an infinite number of winking lights in the night sky that could never all be accounted for. Despite all of this, the data banks that contained their histories and the histories of relative worlds dated back hundreds and hundreds of thousands of millennia up until that very moment. A fact which was all together important, while at the same time being utterly laughable in comparison to everything that had taken place before even the first page had been recorded in some book that had long since turned to dust.

If you tried to sit down and full comprehend such a thing it would drive you mad, eventually, and those more determined would waste the entirety of their lives in the interest of understanding and completely grasping the depths of the galaxy. Despite such efforts, they would still but scratch the surface and be a mere twig thrown into an otherwise, and always, raging fire. The effort would be misplaced, and such things were indeed best left untouched by the pondering mind, for there were things more important going on around each and every being in the galaxy who struggled daily only to survive, in most cases, while elite and privileged counterparts thrived in the lap of luxury. Coruscant was that luxury, and although not all who shared it were as privileged as some, there was a shared privilege of even being associated with the priceless gem that it had become.

It was a glorious rock indeed, and it had been fought over for far too long by then, but the wars waged here were far from over, and they likely never would be as long as someone had enough ambition to want to own it. The need to control such a thing, however, was much greater than the actual capacity that any one creature could ever have possibly had in order to even attempt such a thing. It was like trying to catch the stars with your bare hands while you lounged beneath them in a sea of swaying wheat that was being grown on a cultivated moon. Planets like Coruscant and the galaxy it was within were both incredible and mind boggling all the same, yet somehow they found ways to live with such an incredible thing. Somehow the people of the galaxy were able to rise and function, as if none of it mattered at all. As if none of it was quite as unbelievable as it honestly was. That was why there would always be an innate struggle between peoples of the galaxy. Because they were all together imperfect creatures who failed to grasp the bigger point of it all. They were only concerned about what was in front of them.





A pair of golden eyes were slightly slanted to hint towards disinterest as they gazed out across a bluish city beneath, lights and fires flickering back at them as a war raged on across the surface of the Jewel of the Republic. "Coruscant...", a deep and soothing voice whispered as the moments slowly crept by. Sirens echoed through the city and the temple behind the man who possessed those golden eyes was billowing massive pillars of black smoke. A testament to the battle that had taken place there between soldiers of an unknown creed and the Jedi of the Gray Order, which had been established there hundreds of years ago. A place of peace and tranquility, where those gifted with the ability to control the force were taught how they could use it for good, despite their leaning towards the light or the dark. It was a middle ground. A balancing act. A constant, never ending walk, hand in hand with a Master who was either appointed, or in far more rare cases, you would be chosen.

It had been a place accustomed to offering refuge for those who were searching for answers and for training in the ways of the force, for control was of utmost importance. It was a place where peers could share their own findings while at the same time learning from those wiser and more powerful than they were. Lastly, though, it was a place where those who craved to learn could go and absorb as much as they could about the galaxy and it's many wonders. It was an opportunity for to learn, to grow, and most importantly... to be lied to.

"VENNNNNNNNIIIIIIIIICCCCCCCC!!!", called a second deep, yet harsh and angry voice which had been raised in order to gather the attention of another. It had come from a single man who had been accompanied by two shorter beings standing across either of his shoulder. One male, two female, all of the Gray Order that had just been destroyed. And all around their feet laid the bodies of unmarked armored soldiers who had been fighting with vibroblades and blaster rifles. Fewer among those lifeless, armor clad bodies were those dressed in brown, black or gray robes, which had been a code of dress established by the Jedi of the Gray Order. Instructors, students, even Masters were strewn about the massive Temple of the Gray Order of Corsucant, and apart from the three who had still remained standing and brandishing blue and green blades, there were none left. None but one, who stood at the tallest step at the very lip's edge of the temple, towering in height and possessing broad, thick shoulders.

He was cloaked in tattered, black robes not entirely unlike those the Gray Jedi chose to wear, though they were different all the same, and as the name was called at the top of the young, Gray Jedi's lungs, he did not move. Not until he had been called upon by the surname that he had allegedly been born to.

"VENNIC KENOBI! I SHALL BE THE ONE TO END YOUR LEGENDARY BLOODLINE ONCE AND FOR ALLLLLLL TIME!", the young, deep voice called once again, and when it did the motionless obelisk at the highest most step finally moved, though only to glance over his shoulder and back towards the destroyed gates of the legendary Temple. That moment was tense, as those angry, golden oculars fell upon the scruffy face of the young Gray Jedi, and in an instant he felt hatred begin to pool within the core of his heart. He slowly shifted in his place, turning his feet one step at a time so that he could slowly, lazily adjust his direction. Slowly he set his shoulders forwards towards the last three living Gray Jedi on Coruscant before he took his first step. Then he took another, and another, still slow, but beginning to make up the distance between the one and the three.

His eyes were narrow now because of the ripples and folds of skins that had forms above his brow and across the bridge of his nose, and before they had their life ending encounter, he said one thing. One thing that, if the Gray Jedi made it through the encounter, they would never forget. Something that shook them to the core and sewed seeds of doubt within their hearts. One thing that bothered, gnawed at and disarmed them all at the same time.

"That name died with Obi-Wan..."



The Sins of Zurr
---   ---   ---




---   ---   ---






13: Warwick Flynn


Name: Warwick Flynn
Nickname: "Wick"
Race: Lycanthrope(Lycan)
Rank: Alpha male
Age: 21
Sex: Male
Orientation: Heterosexual
Height: 6'4"
Weight: 219 lbs
Eyes: Dark Blue
Hair: Dark Brown
Distinguishing marks: A series of scars across the chest, back, shoulders, thighs and some smaller ones along the throat that are mostly unnoticeable. Tattoo from wrist to elbow of the left forearm. Small gauges in either of his earlobes and a single earring near the top of his left ear.





Disclaimer: SOME of this content, as well as most of the images that I use, are copy written. All rights are reserved by the author(s) of pre-existing characters pulled from comic books/Animes/TV shows/movies and sometimes solo artworks that I have not created by way of my own imagination and/or constructive efforts. All image rights are reserved by the artists who created them and they are merely being borrowed in an effort to give fellow writers and readers just a taste of what both my original character concepts and borrowed Fan-Fiction based characters might look like and dress like. None of this content, apart from some of the original character backgrounds, bios and story lines, actually belong(s) to me in any way. I do, however, reserve the rights to my own content pertaining to the characters that I have fabricated over the years that I have been a writer which I have put on display for you here in my character catalog. I reserve all rights to my own unique content including my compelling characters and story lines/stories pieced together and constructed for you to share in and enjoy. Thank you!



Write with your heart, not your head.

- N
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Character Catalog - Pt. 3






WOLFRAM
CV/Cannon Villain - Villain x Hero


Theme Song: G.O.A.T.
Name: Wolfram(real/full name unknown)
Nickname: None
Alias: Wolfram
Age: 32
Race: White/Caucasian
Orientation: Heterosexual
Allegiance: To himself(Answers to no one)
Sex: Male
Height: 6'3"
Weight: 232 lbs
Eyes: Golden brown/Amber
Hair: Red
Blood Type: AB-
Distinguishing marks: Skin discoloration/Birth marks and a scar beneath the left eye.

Appearance: Wolfram is a tall man with very dark, red hair. His face has dark patches of skin, which cover his mouth, nose, eyes, and part of his forehead. He also has a scar on his left cheek. He wears a very large white coat, with light gray cuffs and lining, along with gray combat boots, baggy sweatpants, and a combat vest. He also wears dark brown gloves.

Quirks:

Unnamed Metal Quirk - His Quirk allows him to bend and manipulate metal effectively making him an alchemist of the world's metal.

Unnamed Power-Up Quirk - This Quirk was given to him by All For One, and allows Wolfram to seemingly increase his own physical strength. This quirk is very similar to One For All. It is, however, not as powerful.


Power Grid:









KACCHAN
CC/Cannon Character - Hero x Hero(rivalry)


Theme Song: NASTY
Name: Katsuki Bakugo(Adult)
Nickname: None
Hero Alias:  Kacchan
Age: 27
Race: White/Caucasian
Orientation: Heterosexual
Allegiance: Self employed Pro Hero
Sex: Male
Height: 6'2"
Weight: 198 lbs
Eyes: Red
Hair: Ash Blonde
Blood Type: A
Distinguishing marks: Piercing red eyes, spiky ash blonde hair.

Appearance: Bakugou typically dresses in loose fitting and baggy clothing, though occasionally will wear form fitting tank tops that expose his arms and parts of his upper body. Mostly prefers darker colors and laid back styles like jeans and t-shirts, gym shorts, hoodies and sneakers, unless he's on the job.

Quirk:

Explosion - Katsuki's Quirk allows him to secrete nitroglycerin-like sweat from his palms and detonate it at will to create explosions. The more Katsuki sweats, the stronger his explosions become. As stated by Best Jeanist, Katsuki has a strong grasp on the applications of his Quirk.

Katsuki usually uses small, powerful explosions from his hands to not only blast his opponents but to propel himself and navigate through the air as well. He can keep up his explosions long enough to negate Shoto's Giant Ice Wall and even break through Eijiro's hardening Quirk. The blasts are powerful enough to send Katsuki flying at his opponents without much time for them to react, and he can use them swiftly enough to evade incoming attacks, even in the air.


Power Grid:











SAI
OC's/Original Characters - Hero x Hero(Previous classmates/distant friends)


Theme Song: LIT
Name: Sairento Shisōka(Silent Thinker)
Nicknames: Sai
Hero Alias: Rupture
Alternative Aliases: セルスナップ(Cell Snap) -  ブレークポイント(Breakpoint)
Age: 28
Race: White/Caucasian
Orientation: Heterosexual
Allegiance: Pro Hero employed by Gran Torino
Sex: Male
Height: 6'4"
Weight: 209 lbs
Eyes: Warm, Golden brown/Amber
Hair: Black(becomes a warmer dirty blonde when angry
Blood Type: AB+
Distinguishing marks: Pale, white skin, black hair and a near constantly indifferent expression, all despite his warm, golden colored amber eyes.

Appearance: Sai is a tall, muscular young Pro Hero who went Pro fresh out of school under the employment of Gran Torino. He is extremely pale with black hair and amber eyes that contrast his typically dark and/or gothic appearance. He prefers dark colors, like slate black and gray along with other dark colors like deep blues and purples, which flow rather well with his very pale skin and quiet demeanor.

Quirk:

Shatter - Sai's Quirk correlates entirely with his blood pressure and heart rate. If calm he is flaccid and worthless as an opponent apart from his above average strength, stamina, speed and durability, which isn't much beyond that of the average individual of a similar age. If he allows himself to become feckless or cannot manage to bring himself to a certain emotional level in order to raise his blood pressure it is possible that he will be of absolutely no use at all. If he can manage to raise his blood pressure/increase his heart rate, however, he can harness power that could potentially level an entire city.

Sai's power comes from a kinetic energy Quirk that becomes active when his stress levels begin to rise during altercations with other heroes or villains. His blood cells, each one of which contains abnormally high levels of iron, are able to generate kinetic energy. As the energy breaches the cell's kinetic capacity, however, the energy begins to release through his body, each cell effectively becoming a conductor for the kinetic energy before they reach out to other cells around them. Once his cells become interlinked within his bloodstream his muscles begin building up and storing the kinetic energy as the rest of his body reacts to the overflowing kinetic power that he naturally produces.

The Quirk is capable of enhancing his strength, speed and durability, despite gaining no further stamina from the pulses of kinetic energy that he is able to either release or store in his body. He can also force the kinetic energy from endpoints around his body in the form of projected kinetic/electric attacks, for instance through his fingers, toes, his nose and even his tongue. A minor downside to his Quirk is his inability to foster the kinetic energy unless he becomes enraged or excited, though over the years he has honed his Quirk and has learned how to control his emotions quite well in order to call upon emotional distress or painful memories whenever he needs them.

His only real major fault is his ability to control his Quirk past a certain point, for his emotions are both his strength and his weakness. If he allows himself to be empowered by his emotions he still has to constantly monitor and micromanage his levels of stress very carefully for fear of losing control. If he loses himself in a fit of rage or emotional collapse, he becomes volatile, like a ticking time bomb with the capacity to level entire cities unless he is kept in check by another Hero.


Power Grid:









SHOTO
CV/Cannon Hero - Villain x Hero OR Hero x Hero


Theme Song: YAS
Name: Todoroki Shōto
Nickname: Shoto
Hero Alias: None
Age: 27
Race: White/Caucasian
Orientation: Heterosexual
Allegiance: To balance
Sex: Male
Height: 6'1"
Weight: 192 lbs
Eyes: Gray (right side) - Light blue (left side)
Hair: White (right side) - Crimson (left side)
Blood Type: O
Distinguishing marks: Skin damage and scarring across the left side of his face.

Appearance: Shoto is a reasonably tall, rather muscular man who is well-built and powerful. He has quite long hair, though it doesn’t pass his neck, and wears bangs, parted twice as to not obscure his vision. His hair color is unusual, as it’s evenly split down the middle of his head, his right side a bright white, and his left a crimson-magenta, this odd coloring being due to his Quirk. As another result of this, he also possesses heterochromia iridium, which causes his left eye’s iris to appear turquoise, while his right is a somewhat brownish dark gray.

Quirks:

Half-Cold Half-Hot (半はん冷れい半はん燃ねん Hanrei Hannen?) - Shoto's Quirk gives him dual pyrokinesis and cryokinesis, divided between his left and right sides, respectively. The appendages on his right side can drastically lower temperatures of anything they touch, enough so to create large waves of ice. The limbs on his left side generate heat and allow Shoto to create and shoot streams of fire. Until taken to his bodily limit, neither has any visible effect on his body.

The drawback to his Quirk arises from his need to maintain his own body temperature, as excessive use of his ice power causes Shoto to suffer from frostbite. The frost that covers his body slows him down physically and weakens the strength and speed of his ice attacks. However, this weakness can be counteracted if Shoto uses his left side to offset the low temperature. The side effect to the prolonged use of his fireside causes his body to overheat and burn up. However, this weakness can be counteracted if Shoto uses his right side to offset the high temperature.


Power Grid:










Character(s) for Western Darams...

"DEAD MAN" BOONE HOLT



"Alternate Costume #1"
"Alternate Costume #2"

Name: Boone Holt(goes by the last name "Lancaster")
Name Meaning: Boone(Meaning: Good; A blessing) - Holt(Meaning: Son of the unspoiled forest; small wood or grove) - When paired his name literally means "Blessing of the Forest".
Nickname/Alias: “Dead Man”
Age: 26
Sex: Male
Orientation: Heterosexual
Height: 6’4”
Weight: 219 lbs
Eyes: Blue
Hair: Reddish blonde - Red
Notable scars: Gash across his right cheek, a cut separating his right eyebrow into two as well as a series of scars all over his chest, beck, arms and legs from various encounters over the years. Boone's most notable scar, however, is a deep stab wound just above his left pectoral muscle. The skin is slightly raised and discolored there to take on a lighter color of his already pale skin. The discoloration shows that the wound was initially mistreated before it was sealed and allowed to heal. This particular wound has only been seen by close friends and occasional business partners(bounty hunters) and it is also why he is known as "Dead Man" Boone Holt.
History/Origin: Unknown... Boone hasn't ever shared his story with anyone primarily because he doesn't trust anyone more than he trusts himself.

Weapons:
"Two Schofield Revolvers"

"One Double Barreled Shotgun"

"One Winchester Repeater"

"One Bowie Knife"

"One Tomahawk"






--Family--
Father: Kale "K" Holt - Died at 45
Mother: Dianna "Anne" Holt - currently 49
First Son: Jackson "Jax" Holt - Died at 24
Second Son: Bartholomew "Bart" Holt - Died at 22
First Daughter/Youngest child: Isabelle "Sable" Holt - currently 20

Boone was the third child of four and the third son of Kale and Dianne Holt...

Mini family profiles...


Name: Isabelle Holt
Location: Unknown
Age: 20
Sex: Female
Height: 5'7"
Weight: 132 lbs
Eyes: Brown
Hair: Black



Name: Dianne Holt
Location: Unknown
Age: 49
Sex: Female
Height: 5'5"
Weight: 137 lbs
Eyes: Blue
Hair: Blonde




BAËL




"Actual Face"
"Hidden Complexion"
"Human Form"


Alternatives# 1:


"Alternate presentation#1"
"Alternate presentation#1-2"


Alternative# 2:


"Alternate presentation#1"
"Alternate presentation#1-2"

Name: Baël (Pronounced: BAY-Uhl/Bay-el)
Age: Unknown/Original Archangel
Race: Fallen Angel/Demon
Rank: Demon Lord/Demon Prince
Realm: Lord of the Ninth
Sex: Male
Orientation: Heterosexual
Temperament: Cold - Calculating - Brash - Rigid - Disciplined - Vengeful
Height: 10'2"
Weight: 292 lbs
Hair: White
Eyes: Gold/Amber
Origin: Created by the Father
Siblings: All Angels were both singular and related when receiving the gift of life by the divine creator.
Birthplace: The Heavens
Build: Supreme, Towering, Obelisk
Abilities: Coercion - Impossible strength - Boundless stamina - Infestation of Darkness - Soul torture - Telekinesis

Demon Lord of the Ninth circle of hell. Brother to Gabriel and Michael, the Archangels who still, to this day, answer to God himself. The one and only true King of the Underworld who which Lucifer is locked in an everlasting and timeless struggle for control.






KADEN CANE



Name: Kaden Cane
Alias/Nickname: Eightball
Age: 27
Sex: Male
Orientation: Heterosexual
Birthplace: Baton Rouge, Louisiana
Height: 6'5"
Weight: 237 lbs
Hair: Dark Brown
Eyes: Hazel
Build: Broad shoulders - Barrel chested - Thick, powerful midsection with a tight and sculpted upper body, though he typically conceals his considerable physique to ensure that he isn't nearly as daunting and intimidating as he otherwise could appear.
Noticeable Markings/Scars: A few scrapes and cuts across the knuckles and forearms from the fighting that he's been a part of ever since he was just a boy when he began bare knuckle boxing back home in Baton Rouge for extra side cash.
Family:

Father- Angus Cane - 52
Mother- Gal Cane - 50
Brothers- Kaedon Cane - 32
Sisters- Asa and Eve Cane - both 19






Disclaimer: SOME of this content, as well as most of the images that I use, are copy written. All rights are reserved by the author(s) of pre-existing characters pulled from comic books/Animes/TV shows/movies and sometimes solo artworks that I have not created by way of my own imagination and/or constructive efforts. All image rights are reserved by the artists who created them and they are merely being borrowed in an effort to give fellow writers and readers just a taste of what both my original character concepts and borrowed Fan-Fiction based characters might look like and dress like. None of this content, apart from some of the original character backgrounds, bios and story lines, actually belong(s) to me in any way. I do, however, reserve the rights to my own content pertaining to the characters that I have fabricated over the years that I have been a writer which I have put on display for you here in my character catalog. I reserve all rights to my own unique content including my compelling characters and story lines/stories pieced together and constructed for you to share in and enjoy. Thank you!



Write with your heart, not your head.

- N
« Last Edit: September 04, 2020, 01:02:41 am by Notorious »

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Re: The Notorious A - M for F(Request Thread)
« Reply #4 on: May 10, 2018, 11:30:19 pm »
Character Catalog - Pt. 4


Specifically these characters are fashioned for the Harry Potter world! Enjoy!







The Tragic Hero

WARWICK KINKADE


Full Name: Warwick Sebastian Kinkade
Nicknames: Wick
Age: 29
Date of Birth: December 27th, 1992
Hometown: Liverpool, England
Current Location: Liverpool, England
Gender: Male
Sexual Orientation: Heterosexual
Pronouns: He/ Him
Occupation: Pub Owner
Blood Status: Half-blood
Ethnicity: Caucasian
Nationality: British
Organizations: None
Special Abilities: Werewolf
Languages: English, Some French and German



--Physical Appearance--
Face Claim: William Tyler
Height: 6'7"
Weight: 243 lbs
Hair Color: Dark brunette
Hair Length: Mid peck/A few inches past shoulder
Eye Color: Blue
Dominant Hand: Right
Clothing Style: Comfortable/Relaxed, sometimes dressy
Scars: He has scars all over his chest, back, arms and a few on his thighs and neck.
Piercings: Small gauges in both ears.
Tattoos: Sleeve from wrist to elbow on the left arm which is hiding a distinguishing and unique scar sustained about seven years ago that he had covered up so that it could never be used to identify him.
Distinguishing Features: Warwick is oppressive in height and bulky with broad shoulders, a thick and muscular chest and a thick head of long, dark hair. He also possesses a thick beard and appears to be rather hairy along the chest, midsection and thighs. Has a few tattoos in various places that are strategically placed to make him harder to identify by Wizard authorities.



--Family--
Mother: Wynonna Kinkade(57)
Father: Jackson 'Jax' Kinkade(Passed at 55)
Siblings: Only Child
Pets:
A German Sherpherd named Bear(7)

Social Class: Lower Middle
Former School: Hogwarts
Former House: Gryffindor



--Personality--
Likes:
- A strong shot or a dark beer to hit the spot after a long day.
- Cloudy, rainy, overcast nights, especially if the moon is nearly full at the time.
- His privacy and time alone to think or collect his thoughts when stress becomes a bit much. Enjoys getting energy out in the form of working out alone.
- Appreciates people who respect his space and privacy and prefers people who allow him to approach them rather than the other way around.
- Enjoys sleeping in after a long day of hunting, working, or getting energy out in the gym.
Dislikes:
- People who pressure him for attention or pressure him for his presence at party's or social gatherings. Can't stand bothersome, chatty types, cute or not.
- A poorly mixed drink or mismanaged bar setting. Dislikes clutter and uncleanliness.
- Hates the thought of opening up, especially to people who believe they are entitled to know things about him and his past. Typically rebels against oppressive or invasive personalities.
-Can't stand sitting still for too long unless he is catching up on sleep. Has a lot of energy because of his voracious appetite that seems to never be settled or sated.
- Dislikes being watched, followed or pestered. Is prone to confrontations when he feels like someone is paying him too much attention when he already dislikes being on people's radars to begin with.
Strengths:
- Warwick is well versed with a few curses he has had to use in his rocky past. He is also talented with Hexes, healing spells, concealment spells and protective spells, but sometimes has trouble with Jinxes and Charms. Alchemy is his greatest of talents/skills, however, which he has always had an affinity for, even from a young age.
- He is knowledgeable on runes and has gone as far as to apply a few sealing runes upon his skin in the form of tattoos hoping that they would help him to control his monthly changes, though he has noticed no difference.
- Warwick has an incredibly high metabolism and impossible to sate appetite, which leaves him with an obnoxious level of energy. He works out every single day and sometimes twice, which has earned him an incredibly stout and powerful physical form.
- For as physically fit as he is, he is also quite witty and well ready. His knowledge of spells is quite expansive and he can handle himself quite well as a duelist. He's had quite a lot of practice over the years running from Aurors.
- He possesses a high level of compassion and is typically kind and gentle, but when set off he can quickly become a terrorizing man who is quite a bit more formidable than average men, even in his human form.
Weaknesses:
- His strength, especially when angry or emotional, might be an advantage to him, but his wild and untamed emotions often times cause him to lose control and have caused him to make bad mistakes in the past. Errors in judgement during moments of fury is one of his greatest weaknesses.
- He manages to practice his favorite and most useful spells regularly enough, but some spells that tend to evade him keep him from being able to perform some more mundane and simple tasks that should be easy for any Wizard.
- His tendency to be cautious of people and skirt around relationships keeps his pool of friends rather low and leaves him few others that he can rely on. IT is difficult for him to make friends or get close with anyone he doesn't know.
- Has a sort of weak stomach when it comes to discussion of a full moon that sets him on edge and makes his belly churn. Also has issues with reoccurring nightmares that force him to visit nights buried deep in his past.
- Wears a chip on his shoulder near constantly, especially with those few people who know what he is. Is apprehensive about getting close to others and typically would prefer a fight or altercation rather than getting genuine and honest with someone. Prefers violence and outrage to honesty.
Deepest Secret:
His deepest secret is that he has taken five innocent lives over the span of his life, even though he has spent only part of it as a werewolf. He hurts every day and can remember each and every one of their faces, carrying around the guilt of having taken their lives everywhere that he goes. He even revisits them in his nightmares as he tries to find sleep, but often enough he will wake up with his hands clutching his bed and his body shivering with a sheen of sweat across his body. It is he who was responsible for killing Gideon Jäger's grandfather all those years ago, which was a family that he was rather close to in his youth.

His father had passed away when he was still maturing and becoming a man, and it was Gideon's father who stepped in and became a male figure who which he could model himself after. He was prized as a son and very often around the Jäger family as he grew into a man, but one day as he, Gideon and Gideon's grandfather went hunting he broke the vial of potion in his pocket on the night of a full moon. He didn't remember a thing by the time he came to the next day, but he had blood all over his chest, hands and mouth when he awoke. He knew he had killed someone that night before, but it wasn't until days later that he read the news and figured out that he had killed Grandfather Jäger.

It is his greatest of shame.


Boggart: An old man torn, ripped, bloodied and undead standing next to a younger version of himself, very much alive and full with youth, both staring at him with knowing looks upon their faces.
Amortentia: Freshly fallen snow, A woman's sweat, Blackberries
Mirror of Erised: A younger version of himself staring up at the full moon with a small smile upon his lips.
Dementor: A looming, bulky form hunching over a twitching corpse with a gaping jaw hanging open as saliva and blood streams from curled back lips.
Patronus: Thestral
Wand: Ash wood, 14", Thunderbird tail feather, Curved with rounded edges and smooth grip. Crafted with practicality and easy handling in mind.




History:  He was born in Liverpool, England to a father and a mother trying to start a family for years, though his father's seed seemed not to want to take. They had been trying for around five years and seriously considering adoption by the time that Warwick's mother Wynonna finally bore the fruit of their combined labors. That boy was the apple of his mother's eye from day one, and as he grew it because obnoxiously apparent that he took after his father who was of Icelandic decent and genetically gifted in similar ways to Warwick.

Both of the men in their small family were well over six feet tall, Warwick being a few inches taller even than his father, though the man had him a bit in width of shoulder. The both of them were built like Viking warriors, and they were from a place where Viking lore and tales weren't all that uncommon. So, from a young age, Warwick proved to exceed in athletics of the Muggle world and of the Wizarding one. He was a skilled Footballer who grew up playing with local boys frequently, even going as far as to join a traveling team before he finally attended Hogwarts and took an interest in Quidditch. That sport had been a more difficult one to adjust to, but eventually he grew into one of the most hated beaters at the school. Even in his 6th and 7th years he was one of the more entertaining players to watch because of his physicality and his relentless style of play, which had earned him more than just a couple of rivals. Furthermore he was good, though, and his housemates rather enjoyed cheering for he and the others on the team.

His years at Hogwarts had become all the more precious before they finally ended for him and he moved on and began working with his mother, Wynonna. Wynonna was a skilled Witch in most regards, yes, but an expert in potions crafting who had owned a potions shop in Diagon Alley for almost two decades by the time that Warwick had graduated from Hogwarts. She had been grooming him to take over the once small shop for a few years by then, whenever Warwick wasn't at school at least, which over the years had grown from a little startup into one of the most popular school prep and ingredient suppliers in Diagon Alley. A shop that, to Warwick, had become like a second home to him over the years, considering how much time he spent there with her, learning under her and even experimenting now and again with some of his own brews. Brews that didn't always work out, of course, but the more he brewed his potions, the better he got at it until his skills were quite formidable as well.

About a year and a half after he had gotten out of Hogwarts, however, Warwick had begun to take an interest in magical artifacts again, and the more he read and learned about them, the more his passion for them grew. So he studied and he prepared, despite his mother's disapproval of it, and when he was almost twenty years of age he finally took out on his first hunt for magical artifacts, and after three long months he had nothing to show for it. Artifacts had been fascinating to study when he was in school, along side potion crafting and alchemy of course, but he had never expected that searching for magical artifacts would be so difficult. In fact, he was absolutely certain that he would be bathing in them just a few short months in, but of course he had ended up with nothing to show for his efforts. Nothing to share with the world or to be proud of in the face of his mother who had known he had always had an affinity for alchemy. There were simply so many stories and so many books that told of magical artifacts still hidden within their world, though, and his determination was suffocating, especially for a mother who only wished the best for her son. A hard headed son who did not heed her pleas to just do what cam natural to him in the world.

A couple of years passed him by, and every so often he would go off on his hunts when he wasn't helping his mother to run the shop, but still he had nothing to show for all of his efforts. Not until he came across an old burial ground which had long since been raided by grave robbers and destroyed by naturally shifting stone and soil. A place that supposedly had nothing to offer, though from what Warwick had come to find, that was not at all the case. For in that burial ground there may have been nothing left with any of the bodies and old, hollowed out graves, though there had been a single precious item stored in the secret compartment of a headstone belonging to an old Witch named "Tawni". Their last name was scraped off of the stone, however, and they had lived almost two-hundred years before him, but the something they left behind was certainly interesting to him. An item left behind that he thought only to be a simple deck of very old, self-shuffling playing cards, from what he could tell upon first inspection. He did choose to take the simple little item with him anyway, however, because of the inscription on the ace of spades that presented itself to him when he found the deck of cards. It read, "Take me. Reveal me to your dearest friend. Beware of the red. Thank me later."

For a long time Warwick didn't know what that inscription had meant, and so he took the deck, thinking it a simple charmed deck of cards that was meant to impress children, though it had never been that simple. The deck had been gifted with a very simple, yet unique little ability to reveal those telling truths, and more importantly, those telling lies, which was something he'd noticed when playing a card game with his cousin's daughter. Then, and only then had he realized just how precious that little artifact must have been to someone once upon a time, and the very instant that he realized how rare they must have been he cherished them forever, never going anywhere without them again.

It had been his first find after almost four years of searching, on hunt after hunt with nothing to show until he'd found something truly special. At least, they were special to him, and they had been special to someone else who seemed to almost be leaving those cards just for him, though he supposed that the message on the ace of spades could have really been for anyone. Despite that, though, things were about as good as they had been for quite a long time, and he was riding high on enthusiasm after his first, real find. A find that had rejuvenated his passion for magical artifacts again, which was why he set out into the world on another hunt not long after he'd found the playing cards that he carried with him that day forwards in his back left pocket. His heart was full again with excitement and the giddyness of a boy in love, at least until the day that his next hunt lead him to a crypt in which he entered and half expected to run into a Vampire. Instead, though, he opened a stone barrier that was separating one end of the crypt from the other only to find that two Werewolves had locked themselves away to wither and die.

They had become weakened over the coming days without food or water to sustain them, but their bodies were stronger and more resilient as Werewolves which had allowed them to survive longer than any typical human being. Warwick hadn't thought about the fact that the night he'd entered the crypt was on the night of a full moon, however, and when he opened that crypt he found something he hadn't wished to find. As he cleared the path in search of stowed and hidden artifacts for selling or collecting he was surprised to instead find two very much malnourished Werewolves. Two very hungry, malnourished Werewolves who attacked him in all of his fright as he realized his greatest of mistakes.

They had made a pact to die together there for fear of being a scar on the world, but Warwick had disturbed them and released them in their weakened, supernatural forms. Despite their weakened and malnourished bodies, though, Warwick still almost died in the effort of defending himself against them, killing them both before he fell into a heap of blood, ripped and torn skin and patches of fur. It was that very night that he would turn for the first time and realize that he too was now a monster of legend, doomed to terrorize the world just like they had before they had perished in the process of passing their curse on to him.

Years later Warwick had been distraught after his father had passed away just before his mother's fifty-third birthday, and together they had been grieving the loss of the man who'd raised him and helped to bring Warwick into the world with his loving wife. In that hard time, though, Warwick met a man named Finnegan Jäger at his mother's shop, and despite Warwick's hesitance to get close to people, he hit it off with the man who expressed his sympathies for the young man who had just lost his father not long before then. So, over the coming weeks, Warwick had been invited to a few dinners with the Jäger family, and before he knew it he fit right in with the rest of their children. He had even gotten so close to Finnegan that he had begun to look up to the man as if he were a second father, who he in fact had to look down at rather than up. He respected him quite a bit, though, and had eventually been treated like the oldest son of their family as he got close to the kids who were a few years younger than him. He had even managed to get close to Finnegan's father, who had been an avid hunter, and eventually they began to go on hunting trips together every now and again.

It had only been a few years since Warwick had been turned and he was still getting used to taking his potions of Wolfsbane regularly, though his supply of the rare herb was easier to come by with his mother's shop. One fateful evening, though, as a hunt with Grandfather Jäger and Gideon, the oldest grandson, was coming to a close Warwick realized a fatal error that he'd made. An error he could not correct as it was much too late by then to take his potions and get the desired effect from them. He'd not taken one in more than six days, and as that moon slipped out from behind the overcast skies to glare down at him almost expectantly he knew that everything was about to change.

The rest of that night had been a crimson blur, but when he woke the next morning naked and covered in dried blood he knew that he had committed unforgivable atrocities that he would never rise above. So, Warwick disappeared from the world and went into hiding, cutting all of his ties with the exception of a mother who couldn't bear to turn her son over to the Ministry. Instead she harbored him for a while as he skulked around and skirted the edges of the Wizarding world, never lingering and never getting close to anyone but a couple of childhood friends that didn't even know what he really was. He just needed his Wolfsbane potions that his mother kept in supply as best as she could as he tried to keep up the funding for the expensive herbs she required to make them. It wasn't an uncommon occurrence for her to supplement the necessary funding for the supplies now and again, though, and for that he would forever be grateful to her. She had been harboring a murderer for years by then, but she simply couldn't bring herself to give up her only son any more than any other mother could be expected to. He was the apple of her eye, after all.

He had lived in London for quite a long time having taken the responsibilities of running his mother's shop for years before he'd been infected by and became a Werewolf. When he had become that horrible creature that he now feared in himself the most, though, he knew that he needed to get out. So, without much deliberation at all, he moved out of his little London home, which had really always been more of a nook than a home, and went back home to Liverpool. There he moved back into his childhood home, which had remained in their family despite his mother having moved out after his father had passed away. There he hid himself away from the rest of the world, living with the monster inside him and the memory of his father living in those walls he'd surrounded himself with like a silent ghost watching over him. Every moment of every day.

It had taken months to do the job remodeling the home in order to turn it into a pub, but the work was refreshing for his soul, and once he was finished he'd turned his childhood, two-story home into a pub with a loft situated above it. Once he was done with it, in fact, it had hardly resembled the home that it had once been, which if he were being honest with anyone who asked, he rather preferred. He was tired of the memories, and now he just wanted to hide in plain sight among a few of the local patrons who slowly, but surely, began to frequent that little pub. Eventually he blended right in, and so did they, at the Honey Hole Pub.





The Vengeful Son

GIDEON JÄGER


Full Name: Gideon Bartholomew Jäger
Nicknames: Jäger, Mew
Age: 18
Date of Birth: August 7th, 2005
Born: Düsseldorf, Germany
Hometown: London, England
Current Location: Hogwarts
Gender: Male
Sexual Orientation: Heterosexual
Pronouns: He/Him
Occupation: Student
Blood Status: Pureblood
Ethnicity: Caucasion
Nationality: German
Organizations: Dueling Club
Special Abilities: Legilimency
Languages: German, English



--Physical Appearance--
Face Claim: Chace Crawford
Height: 6'2"
Weight: 186 lbs
Hair Color: Brown/Brunette
Hair Length: Short/Brow Length
Eye Color: Blue
Dominant Hand: Right
Clothing Style: Prep/Sometimes Casual
Scars: Birthmark behind his right ear. Also a scar in the form of claw marks across the right shoulder from an encounter with a Werewolf a few years back.
Piercings: None
Tattoos: None
Distinguishing Features: Well above average height, well built and sculpted. Not quite slender, but in good shape. Cold and piercing eyes with a menacing glare.



--Family--
Mother: Delilah Jäger(42)
Father: Finnegan Jäger(46)
Siblings:
Sister: Jillian Jäger (10)
Pets:
Owl: Coda(Long Eared Owl) Dog: Bolt - Resides at home with his parents and sister.
 
Social Class: Upper Middle
School: Hogwarts
House: Ravenclaw



--Personality--
Likes:
- Reading and Writing
- Studying and learning new spells to add to his collective knowledge.
- Staying active, participating in sports and exploring/hiking.
- Dark beer, butterbeer and whiskey spiked sweet drinks like sweet tea.
Dislikes:
- Pushy, nosy and annoying people who can't take a hint.
- Liars and cheaters.
- Bad books and stories with tactless storytelling and endings.
- Bitter/oppressive tasting food and burned meals.
Strengths:
- Well versed as a duelist who has become one of the most skilled at the school.
- Especially talented with Hexes, Jinxes, Counter-spells and protective magic.
- He's a thinker, well read and well versed in magical knowledge. Always careful with the magic he has at his disposal, yet further careful of the company that he keeps.
- Great judge of character and quite good at reading people's tells in case someone tries lying to him in a stressful or uncomfortable situation.
- Great physical strength and stamina as well as a good amount of durability. As book smart as he is, he's tough to boot.
Weaknesses:
- He is challenged with Healing spells and Potions crafting while also being moderately well versed with Charms.
- Rarely causes himself grief with overconfidence and arrogance when it comes to dealing with other witches and wizards. Has an issue under estimating those he does not respect.
- Occasionally when angry or distressed he reacts emotionally rather than taking the time to carefully assess the situation.
- Can get carried away with his vices if he isn't careful. Sometimes drinks a little too much and becomes a bit too honest.
Deepest Secret:
As confident as he typically appears to be he deals with insecurity rather commonly and suspects his enemies and rival are near constantly conspiring against him. Whether their game is to make him look like a fool, hurt him or worse, this young Wizard is impossible to seek redemption with once you have gotten on his bad side. He is weary of those he has lost faith in or trust for and has a secret list of names that he reads every night before he falls asleep. There are 17 names on that list, which is currently still growing, and for each of those names he has collected trinkets, personal treasures, strands of hair and other items that once belonged to each of those individuals. He keeps them locked away within an enchanted jewelry box that belongs to his mother that he stole when he was just a boy. He had decided that he needed something to keep these precious items safe in when he was younger, and so he took it from her without asking, replaced her jewelry with his collection and sealed it with a binding spell that would allow only him to breach it. He then opened an account at Gringotts and began funneling some of his hard earned money into his vault along with his prized jewelry box.
Boggart: He fears the unknown, having made a few enemies in his youth who still, to this day, challenge him at every turn. He is friendly enough with most, respects only those he believes deserve his respect, but ultimately has made a few enemies that he believes might wish to cut his life short one day. His greatest fear is not knowing which of his enemies has the spine to come after him, and so he remains constantly suspicious of those he has decided do not at all have his best interest in mind.
Amortentia: Lavender, Cinnamon, Fresh rain on pine trees
Mirror of Erised: Being an accomplished and successful author as well as a world renowned duelist.
Dementor: The day his Grandfather was ripped apart before his very young eyes in the effort of protecting him from a Werewolf who had run out of potions that could help him resist changing during the full moon. He was a family friend who they had been visiting. Gideon believes him to bow believes to be dead.
Patronus: Polar Bear
Wand: Blackthorn, 13.75", Werewolf claw Elegantly carved with sharp lines. Crafted with common standards and fashion in mind.





History: Gideon's story started late one August night during a bad storm in the outskirts of Düsseldorf, Germany. Even clapping thunder, vicious winds and flood level rains weren't enough to drown out those loud and terrified cries of a child who was born into a chaotic night with two parents that were panicked and a doctor who was worried for the safety of a little boy born much too far from a hospital. The hours that followed were full with crying and screaming as the three of them tried as best they could to comfort a youngster who appeared to need special care that none of them could provide. In fact, even when the child finally fell silent and was claimed by exhaustion so that his little body could get the highly needed rest that it needed, the doctor wasn't sure that he would survive.

That night was the last time that that Gideon Bartholomew Jäger would really cry. Of course, there was certainly pouting and teary eyed groans now and again, but from that day forward he had no fits and no episodes, seemingly having grown out of that when he was just a day old. He'd been born into a violent storm, and ever since he actually found solace in violent weather. Weather that followed he and his parents who decided to make a long journey to London in order to get away from a German town that they had grown tired of. A German town that they suspected was secretly being run by strong families with political influence and ties to the darker side of business they wanted no part of. Be it the mob or shady politicians that were really running things, they were tired of always bending and breaking in the presence of the shady and the seedy. They wanted to begin their new lives with their new son, a boy they named Gideon for his strength and his reluctance to complain. A name for a warrior.

Years down the road Gideon had become a strong young man with a desire to learn, despite his parents reluctance to teach him anything of Witchcraft and Wizardry until he was able to attend school. They were well aware that it was frowned upon to teach a child magic without having been teachers trained to handle young minds with care. Further than that it would have been irresponsible to teach him to try and handle a wand when he was too young, but that didn't stop his father from breaking their laws once or twice so that he could begin teaching his son in the privacy of their secluded home before it was time for him to leave for his first year of school. In fact, before Gideon even had a wand of his own and he was already well versed in a few simple spells that were harmless to know, but fun for the boy.

After his first few years at Hogwarts, however, Gideon's Grandfather took him on a hunting trip, which wasn't uncommon for them both. Typically his father attended as well, in fact, but as he was busy with work he was not able to come along, and so the pair invited a close family friend of his fathers to be a stand in hunter for the trip, seeing as hunting with a larger group was much safer. A few days into that hunt, though, a full moon created a terrifying and bloody situation for them all that would forever live on in the young man's nightmares.

He could remember hearing the deep groaning and cursing from their family friend, Warwick Kinkade, as he stumbled and caught himself when he had begun to change. He had forgotten to consistently take his potions because he had been so distracted in his artifact hunting lately, and before they could stop and take a break he had begun to change by the light of the moon. He was helpless to resist the change without the constant flow of Wolfsbane in his system, and as his body took on a nightmarish form Gideon could remember that moment of fear that shook him to the core. That's when everything turned red and Gideon's grandfather was torn apart while he raced through the woods as quickly as he could clutching a shredded arm and praying to God that he would see his Grandfather again one day. He never saw that crooked old smile of his again, however, and Gideon never forgot that moment because of the reminder that was left on his ruined skin forever.

Years later Gideon made a full recovery of the injury he sustained, despite the ugly claw marks that were left across thee front and back of his right shoulder, and although he never saw the man who killed his Grandfather again, he never forgot him. He even kept the broken fragments of Werewolves claw that had been removed from his skin during surgery and later made a wand out of it using Blackthorn wood for it's prison. It was custom made as a gift from his father who decided to commission the wand for him, and when the wand was done he never even thought about his previous wand again. He merely tucked the little twelve inch wand made of Ashe and Dragonheart string away into his vault for safe keeping in case he would ever need it one day in the future.

From that day forward he had become a more aggressive and confident Wizard, his wand seemingly just as eager for confrontation as he had seemed to be. So, together they learned and practiced and he honed his skills in magic until one day he even went as far as to join the Dueling Club to further his prowess as a duelist among other students who seemed to share a similarly competitive streak. A Wizard of true determination and impressive knowledge who fancied himself one of the most skilled duelists in the school, although he hadn't had a chance to face even half the school in duels by then. Despite those who proved to be adequate rivals, though, Gideon was still confident that he could beat each and every one of them if he approached duels with them all in the correct way. All he needed to do was consider their strengths, their weakness and most importantly, find out how he could abuse their shortcomings by exploiting them. By exposing their faults and their bad habits.

Gideon's determination and tenacity were a couple of his finer qualities, and as he entered into his final year at Hogwarts he was more prepared than he had ever been to go out into the world and hunt Wizards who needed to be hunted. His unspoken agenda, though, was always there in the back of his mind. The real reason he'd made that wand and worked hard for seven straight years to even have the opportunity to become and Auror. So that he could venture out into the world and find the beast who killed his Grandfather and left him scarred forever. A man who deserved no sympathy and, for all Gideon had known and had heard by word of mouth, was dead.

He had to find out whatever it was that had become of Warwick Kinkade...





The Gentle Hunter

TIDUS QUINN


Full Name: Tidus Alistair Quinn
Nicknames: Steeljaw, Tye
Age: 24
Date of Birth: November 7th, 1997
Hometown: Baton Rouge, Louisiana
Current Location: London England
Gender: Male
Sexual Orientation: Heterosexual
Pronouns: He/Him
Occupation: Struggling Writer/Part time Bounty Hunter
Blood Status: Half-Blood
Ethnicity: Caucasian
Nationality: American
Organizations: None
Special Abilities: None
Languages: French, English



--Physical Appearance--
Face Claim: Christopher Mason
Height: 6'4
Weight: 202 lbs
Hair Color: Dirty Blonde
Hair Length: Long, shoulder length
Eye Color: Amber/Golden Brown
Dominant Hand: Right
Clothing Style: Casual/Greaser
Scars: Spell burns across his left side, raised, damaged skin from cuts and gashes across the knuckles of both hands in various places.
Piercings: None
Tattoos: Quote across his left side to partially cover his spell burns. Short quote across the inside of his right bicep that reads "Have some sympathy". Tattoo on either shoulder blade and one lower down his back that reads "Catch 22". Small tattoo on the inside of his right wrist.
Distinguishing Features: Series of Tattoos in various places. Long, messy blonde hair. Warm, amber eyes. Quite tall with a lean, but sculpted body type. Typically wears things in style but rarely appears to try very hard as he is most comfortable in t-shirts, jeans, boots and jackets.



--Family--
Mother: Melody Quinn(47)
Father: Torrick Quinn(49)
Siblings:
Tyson Quinn(24)
Tessa 'Tes' Quinn(17)

Pets:
A Fennic Fox named Castor.
A Southern White Faced Scops Owl named Zillah.
Two flying squirrels named Borris and Betsy.

Social Class: Lower Middle Class
Former School: Ilvermorny
Former House: Wampus House



--Personality--
Likes:
- Honey whiskey with two cubes of ice unless he's already a few drinks in, in which case he would prefer it dry.
- A good book and a quiet evening to contrast the occasional hectic and violent nights he has as a bounty hunter.
- Orchestra and Classical music which, to him, are the truest forms of music which allow his creative juices to flow when writing.
- Beautiful women, though he rarely makes time for them or bothers with finding one for himself. His profession is too dangerous to have loved ones that might be used against him.
- Loves animals and magical creatures, a few of which he used to collect before most of them became too dangerous to keep in London and he had to turn them over to the ministry.
Dislikes:
- Can't stand arrogance and pretentiousness. Won't put up with bothersome or obnoxious people.
- Hates being told what to do or how to do it. He's independent and prefers his privacy, which when it is invaded he becomes irritable and even brash.
- Doesn't like lazy people or those who are satisfied by mediocrity. Believes that if you can have better for yourself you should try and obtain that, other wise you're not doing much living.
- Hates clutter and unnecessary messiness and hoarding. Likes his space. Likes to feel clean and be cleanly as an individual.
- Dislikes being stared at, glared at or watched. Is very on edge when people are trying to pry or get into his business as he keeps a low profile for a reason.
Strengths:
- Good with Charms, Hexes and counter spells but is quite skilled with protective spells and Transfiguration which allows him to protect and hide himself when need be. Also knows a few of the most frowned upon spells, or rather Curses, that are frowned upon in the Wizarding community.
- He is very physically powerful as a younger man and works out frequently when he isn't going after bounties at night. Keeps in good shape and keeps up with his boxing training in order to be formidable, even without his wand.
- He's as well read as they come having kept and grown a private library in his house for years of his life. that has expanded outside of the room meant for the storage of his books and into other rooms of his home. He thirsts for knowledge and understands the advantage that knowing more about magic can give you over an opponent.
- He's quick witted and more than willing to act when he needs to. He composes himself according to the law set by the Ministry, but he won't hesitate to take a life before another Wizard could try and take his own if he feels threatened.
- As a bounty hunter he has gotten a lot of practice in the way of dueling and combating other Wizards and Witches. Over the years he has honed his skills to become an ace duelist who is well versed in countering and nullifying spells. He's lost a fair share of his encounters, but he has only managed to learn more and more from those shortcomings which have allowed him to become a more well rounded Wizard. He only aims to become the best so that he doesn't have to learn a hard lesson that might cost him his life one day.
Weaknesses:
- He has trouble with Jinxes often enough, though he's still considered at least moderately talented with them. Sometimes they'll backfire, however, as his wand prefers more aggressive spells. He also tends to have trouble with simple spells, rather than those more complex or aggressive. He expects that years of hunting bounties and dueling other Wizards has grown a vigor for conflict within his wand that has made it sometimes difficult for him to handle when he isn't challenging someone in some form of altercation.
- His passion for critters and creatures is easily one of his biggest weaknesses. If threatened with one of his own creatures or the life of another is at stake he will go out of his way to save it, which can easily be used against him.
- He has a lot of trouble with flight by broom, never having gotten comfortable with it when he was in school. He enjoyed Quidditch quite a lot and tried to play it, but he was never an expert flyer by any stretched of the imagination and prefers apparition and staying on his own two feet.
- A pretty face with an agenda is yet another weakness, though this one of the flesh, which is certainly something that he has not proud of. In fact, it almost got him killed one time when a woman who's husband he had captured once upon a time seduced and tried to kill him.
-As confidence in himself is partly his strength it is also one of his greatest faults. More often than not he does not underestimate his opponents, but he has done so before and he has suffered for it. In fact, it is part of the reason that his left side is scarred with spellburns.
Deepest Secret:
Although he claims to have never taken the life of another Wizard when asked about his job and the bounties he has collected on, he is lying and always has been. He has taken the lives of two Wizards and one Witch over the span of a five year, tumultuous career hunting Witches and Wizards who need to be brought in. Two of them had been trying to kill him at the time of their respective altercations, and he knew that he was only defending himself in those situations. The third he was never quite sure about, and although he always reminded himself that he was only defending himself, he could never help thinking that he'd acted too quickly despite the witch's rocky past.

She had been known to use dark magic, though only when she had to rely upon it, and that night had been a hectic one for them both. He could not, and did not take the risk of letting her take his life or put him through excruciating pain just because he was distracted. He'd hesitated before, and he'd paid a stiff price for that, and so he had made himself a promise to never hesitate again.
Boggart: A crowd of looming, glaring, unsavory looking individuals who all seem to be staring at him.
Amortentia: Fox fur, Honeysuckle, Fresh citrus fruits
Mirror of Erised: Dreams of owning his own bar someday with a little family of his own to run it with him. A wife, three sons and a girl.
Dementor: A looming figure lingering in the darkness far removed from light and watching him closely. Less a living being and more an entity, watching and waiting with pitch black eyes and a sneer upon pale, cracked lips.
Patronus: Dragon
Wand: Hornbeam, 12.25", Snallygaster Heartstring, Elegantly carved with pure silver tip, Devoted to it's owner and utterly impossible for anyone else to work with. Sometimes difficult for even him to control when it gets just a taste of excitement during a duel.





History:
Tidus was born in Baton Rouge, Louisiana, a place where the Cajuns roam and the French has evolved from it's European standard into something a bit more rustic in nature. He was from an immediate family that was rather small, though his mother, Melody Quinn, had two brothers and his father, Torrick Quinn, had two sisters and two brothers. All of which grew up and started families of their own. In other words, he never had any shortage of relatives showing up for holiday celebrations, especially when considering the typical devotion to family that southerners tended to have from the United States. Those days became more and more fleeting, however, as his parents got older, his cousins all aged and went down their own paths and they all began to make their own ways in life.

Still, their gatherings always managed to be memorable, even as Tidus got older himself. The only problem for him, though, was that he had to choose at a young age whether he wanted to stay around his family and grow up along side cousins, aunts and uncles who mostly all lived close, or if he wanted to grow up on a completely different continent far away from that. He would always be able to come home for holidays, of course, but the decision was still a tough one to make. After all, he'd never really considered Ilvermorny an option in comparison to the legendary 'Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry'. Of course, this decision would have clearly made him the odd boy out because he was from America and carried that typical Southern drawl adopted from the southern states. That was all worth the risk in his eyes, though, because he was gifted with the ability to perform magic because of his mother's side of the family. Even his little sister Tessa was magically gifted, which was a fact that their parents had both been proud of. He could even recall that a cousin of his from one of his mother's brothers carried that same genetic advantage, though he had declined to leave home at a young age to learn how to perform magic years before Tidus had been given the option himself. His decision had purely been based off of a fear of his abilities, though, rather than not wanting to leave home. He had merely not wanted anything to do with magic, making he and Tidus quite different by nature.

Tidus refused to lose that opportunity to harness his magical abilities, and so he attempted to attend Hogwarts, though was swiftly met with denial based on his region of birth. It was made very clear to him by the administration of Hogwarts that they did not accept transfer or exchange students of any kind, which had been a heartbreaking fact to bear. It had never made sense to him that he should be pigeonholed into a school he did not desire to attend when he preferred another, but he had no control at all over that situation. So, with an innate desire to learn magic, he stifled his dissatisfaction with Ilvermorny and decided to go ahead and attend the school instead of Hogwarts. Over the years he learned and he honed his skills, and eventually when he was of age he went on and moved to London anyway, having mastered the skill of apparition so that he could always visit his family whenever they called on him. In fact, by then, he even figured out his accent and adopted a more reasonable one for the environment that he was moving into.

He chose to stick with his own accent not because it alienated him from everyone else in London, but because it did make him interesting and unique. So, with a little bit of practice and honing in on the accent that he wanted, Tidus eventually mastered a typical American English accent whilst dropping the Southern drawl that he knew he could always pick right back up at the drop of a hat. That typical, English Standard accent was perfect for him, and he knew he embraced it well, just like he'd gone on to embrace writing after his studies had been completed at Ilvermorny. It was his passion and his addiction, the written word, which had large in part been what had driven his desire for a mastery of the accents that he had been exposed to. He could speak American English Standard, British Standard, Cajun English, true French Standard, Cajun French and even a few other accents that were from cultures that employed the use of English as well. At that stage in his life, it wasn't just unique for him or an interesting talking point either, it was a passion of his, the way that people talked and the stories they told.

The written word fueled him, and a shared interest in dialects and accents even spurred an interest in acting and cinema, which allowed him to combine his passion for writing and his interest in cinema when he took a job as a movie critic. And yes, he still wrote the occasional article in the paper regarding local happenings and events that were relative to the current times when someone came to him with a story they had to offer, but primarily he began to write reviews for plays and cinematic experiences. The only problem for him was that he was young as a writer and lacked notoriety, though, and because of that he was only able to afford a lower rent apartment on the outer edge of London, which was more than spacious enough for one, though it certainly wasn't the kind of place that you wanted to try and start a family in.

Two small-ish bedrooms, a master bathroom, extra solo shower, a living room, small kitchen and a laundry room were all he had ever needed to be happy, though. At least, apart from the few nagging issues like power failures, leaks and creaks that the owner seemed to never want to address. It was his home, and he was proud of it, but he wanted more out of life and new that things weren't moving along quite quickly enough as a writer. So, in his spare time, he began taking on bounties to hunt down and apprehend dark wizards and other unsavory types who might not have considered themselves "dark", but were certainly doing things that went against the laws appointed by the Ministry for all good magic folk to follow.

As the years passed Tidus had his fair share of dangerous encounters and violent exchanges, even having the opportunity to work along side Aurors on a few occasions. On these interesting little adventures, though, as he did his job in apprehending the evil and unsavory types, Tidus did have three experiences that caused a considerable amount of stress and even some depression, though two such instances were utterly out of his control. On two separate occasions he'd come across two rather awful Wizards, neither of which he'd had any luck in reasoning with, and before their encounter was done he had gotten into altercations with each of them and wound up surviving those exchanges. They, on the other hand, had not managed to survive and perished in those heated moments, each of them taking a bit of a toll on him, though these things had been something that he had eventually managed to get over. One thing he hadn't gotten over, though, was the third and final altercation he'd had with a certain young Witch on the run who perished after a heated chase through Diagon Alley one late, spring night.

He'd been tracking her for almost a week, and once he'd gotten close he pursued her for almost a day's time before he'd finally cornered her in her home and demanded, at wand-point, that she give herself up. The moment was tense, and he'd already been informed by then that she had been known to use the Imperius and Cruciatus curses on Aurors in the past who were pursuing her. That didn't particularly make her a murderer, but the use of such spells were not uncommon with those who took lives or sought to impose their will upon others. For her, killing wasn't out of the question. To know any of those curses didn't make you evil, for Tristan himself had used them once or twice himself, but they certainly helped you in being capable of taking life at will if you knew the worst curse of the three.

She had to be taken quite seriously, and so Tidus demanded again for her surrender, but got something else instead. When she reached into her pocket with a quick thrust of her hand Tidus immediately flicked his own wand to try and stun her. Unfortunately the blow had come too strong from his wand, however, and she was thrown back into her bedroom window, the lock of which snapped. The window was thrown open and she tumbled out of the second story to the streets below, breaking her neck upon impact, and as Tidus made it down to her he discovered a picture clutched tight in her off hand and her wand laying not far away from her other, dominant hand. It was a picture of the very same young girl that she had killed during one of her unofficial lessons after a potion gone wrong caused the student to fall ill instead of cure their hiccups. A personal student of her own, and her very own sister, who perished despite her best efforts to heal her, and for fear of her punishment as a result of her mistake, she ran.

She'd been on the run for years, and just before she'd taken her tumble out that window she had reached into her pocket for her wand. The problem was that Tidus couldn't hesitate in that moment, for it would have been foolish to allow her the opportunity to use a curse on him, even if she was just trying to apparate away. It was a risk he simply couldn't take without knowing the intent in her heart. The picture that she had been clutching, though, had the initials of the child on it that read "S. L. F"., which were written in cursive on the back of the picture. A gift for her favorite, tutor and teacher hopeful... and older sister who's mistake had cost the young girl her life. A mistake that had crushed that runaway, potions teacher wannabe who had also died as a result of that mistake years later.

Something clicked in Tidus' head that night as he stared at that picture and reported the incident to the authorities who came and collected her body. He didn't know if she was pulling her wand out just so that she could apparate yet again and keep the chase alive and well, or if she'd been intending to hurt him. What he did know, though, was that he hadn't had the leisure of letting her try and get away when she very well could have ended up killing him, if such intent was even in her heart. It didn't make it any less a tragedy born of mistake and misunderstanding, however, and that he would never forget. That was why, every day since then, he carried that same picture with him, no matter where he went. It stayed tucked away in his wallet where he would see it, every single time that he flipped it open to grab cash or a debit card or even a few galleons. It was always there, her young and happy face staring back at him... and just above her precious head was another face. The face of her happy, older sister who had been giving her lessons and bearing squinting eyes and a cheesy grin as they stared back into the camera probably right in the middle of one of her makeshift potions lessons.

The thought made him hurt just a bit when he wondered what close sisters they must have been only to pass away so young and full with life. They'd grown up together, the eldest having taken an interest in teaching and the younger coming along rather nicely as a young girl eager to learn magic. She'd probably begged her older sister to begin giving her lessons, in fact, and of course the older of the pair might have thought that it would be a good opportunity to begin practicing her teaching of children early, even before she herself had received instruction. Those days were some of their last, however, for two precious pieces of the world had been cast out into infinite darkness never to return to the mortal lives they'd once lived, and for what? An innocent error in judgement and a quick wand hand...?

In the years following that encounter Tidus chose not to dwell on that occasion as much, knowing that it hadn't been his fault, but often times the thought of those two young siblings came back to him. Their story was sad, and now and again he would think about them, but as he grew into the man he was always meant to be and became a talented Wizard along the way, he knew he couldn't dwell on their loss. Sometimes he considered meeting them in the next life, though, and wondered how they would regard him. He hoped that they would greet him with cheerful expressions and open arms, though, and had imagined it that way each time. At least, he certainly hoped that they would, because he most certainly wanted to meet them both for the first time and get the chance to know them before telling them how sorry he was for the way that things had turned out. That he wished he could have been there to change the outcome for them both, even though they were all aware that there was nothing he could do. He knew he hadn't been responsible, but he did still pity them, actually almost missing them, despite never having known them at all. He felt responsible for them in a way, knowing that things should have turned out differently if not for the elder sister's likely minor error.

His life had already had many twists and turns so far, but he was still very much living it to the fullest, cherishing his family every spare moment that he got as he became a master of the apparition spell over they ears. Further than that his writing even began to pick up notice, though he was still quite a long way away from being well respected as an author. And so, after almost four years hunting those who needed to be brought to justice, Tidus was still writing his stories and his reviews during the day while venturing out into the night after dark, doing the best with what little he had in the effort of making something of his life. Saving what he could here and there and stowing it in his account at Gringotts while reading from the many books in his library with what spare time he could find. It wasn't an easy life or a quiet life, what with all of the stress and danger that bounty hunting brought along with it, but it was his life, and for now that was enough for him.






Disclaimer: SOME of this content, as well as most of the images that I use, are copy written. All rights are reserved by the author(s) of pre-existing characters pulled from comic books/Animes/TV shows/movies and sometimes solo artworks that I have not created by way of my own imagination and/or constructive efforts. All image rights are reserved by the artists who created them and they are merely being borrowed in an effort to give fellow writers and readers just a taste of what both my original character concepts and borrowed Fan-Fiction based characters might look like and dress like. None of this content, apart from some of the original character backgrounds, bios and story lines, actually belong(s) to me in any way. I do, however, reserve the rights to my own content pertaining to the characters that I have fabricated over the years that I have been a writer which I have put on display for you here in my character catalog. I reserve all rights to my own unique content including my compelling characters and story lines/stories pieced together and constructed for you to share in and enjoy. Thank you!



Write with your heart, not your head.

- N
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Re: The Notorious A - M for F(Request Thread)
« Reply #5 on: May 26, 2018, 02:19:20 am »
The Story Graveyard - Pt. 5






The Pirate King's Jest


Castletown
Coast of the Isle of Man
Late Friday night November 7th at 9:27 PM



At the heart of Ireland, Scotland and England was a little island known as "The Isle of Man", which had been the eyes of the triangle of three countries for as long as anyone could remember. It was truly a gem placed perfectly between the ring of the three countries which had been coveted for it's strategic position ever as long as anyone had known of it's existence. A heart that brought all three of these countries together, in fact, connecting them forever no matter their past struggles and strife with one another or the rest of the world. Ever since the three countries had become united, however, there hadn't been a single Pirate seen anywhere near those shores surrounding the little island or the Isle of Man itself, which was truly something for the Brits, the Irish and the Scots to be proud of. In fact, it had been more than a decade since any unsavory, salty type of individual had so much has been spotted lingering in a pub or skulking around town where they weren't welcome, and for good reason.

War had been declared on Pirates who had been a no good, low down, all together rotten bunch who were so damn bold that they would have admitted to you themselves that they'd rather kill you and take what you've got than embrace you as a friend. Especially if you came from a higher level of societal privilege than they did. They weren't nice, they were endlessly selfish, but even they tended to be honest about what they were and what they wanted, and what they wanted was to take what they wanted while allowing chaos to be left in their wake. A trait that didn't escape those of worldwide renown any further than it did a lowly, rum addicted bandit who was crewless and looking for his next wench with an eager gleam in his eyes.

For the English, the Irish and the Scots, however, the years of ease in dealing with Pirates, most of whom had retreated to their strongholds across the ocean in the Caribbean, had been all too enjoyable and they were more than eager for their prosperity to continue. Their dominance of the Atlantic Ocean had been put on hold tonight, however, for a coastal storm had been wracking the Isle of Man and a few of the coastal cities along Great Britain as well over the past few days, and only in the past few hours had it finally died down a bit. The skies were still dark, however, and the rain was still pouring down and helping to create a near constant mist that shrouded most of the sea for the naked eye beyond just few hundred feet. It had well and truly been a nightmarish few days now that the heat was clashing with the dropping temperatures of a Winter that was fast approaching causing the environment to snap when a cold front would sweep through. Something that was both unnerving and ominous, despite the sailors and soldiers who only viewed this terrible weather as well deserved time off.

The pubs were alive with far too much drinking, awful music and tall tales being told as the pale moon loomed overhead and created a ghostly colored wall of mist and fog atop the broad expanse of waters surrounding the Isle of Man. It's docks were full with ships of many sizes, and in the channels near the island there were English and Scottish ships anchored and riding out the storm while their men still aboard were either gambling or putting on a part of their own. Most of the crew had to stay aboard the larger ships, after all, to make sure that all of their mechanisms remained in perfect working order and to ensure that they were kept safe and guarded. The only problem for them was that dead mean couldn't so much as guard a row boat, let alone a Frigate...


"Show them what hell is like...", the deep voice of a towering man whispered while he stood tall at the bow of a massive Man-O-War ship known as "the Bishop" who's hull was painted a crimson colored deep red while it's intricate edges and detail were all painted black, white and gold. Even the bowsprit was made of red oak and ivory to match the aesthetic of the rather beautiful, yet awfully horrifying ship that was cutting through the water like a bull through waves of grass. Then, only a moment after he'd given the order, torches began to light up all around him, one after the other so that his nightmare could be shared with the world he sought to send to the ocean floor so that they could all be claimed by the ferryman of the river Styx. The flames he had commanded were spreading all across the ship as countless balls of fire continued to be born, each one sweeping forward to light the next so that the entirety of the deck could be aglow.

Then, as if an angel had been skipping through the dark, moist night skies, a few flames sprang up in the middle of the water next to the massive, flaming ship as if connected to nothing at all, but they too began to spread, again and again until slowly others began to emerge from the mist. One, two, three, four more ships began to take shape as the wispy flames from the torches set an unnerving glow around them all and revealed them to the Isle of Man and the ships at which they were sailing full tilt. The many torches were lining the railings of the ship, burning with a vigorous, oily burn that would not be subdued by the falling rain, but because the ropes, sails and wood was all soaked to the core, the many flames could do no harm to the ships that they were causing to stand out atop the shimmering waves of the ice cold sea.

"I want it all...", the same man grumbled the words to the proud looking man and woman stood behind him, one over each of his broad shoulders standing there proudly as ever and adorned in rather eccentric clothing and jewels. "AIGH!", they growled back at him, each clearly of a certain rank to be standing nearest the Captain while being dressed in such expensive things that they had no doubt come by after years of pillage and plunder. "I WANT THE WORLD!", the man's deep and powerful voice then boomed out across the deck of the looming Man-O-War that he spun around on so that he could face his crew. Of course, not a second had passed before he received a spine tingling combination of screams, grunts, growls and cheers all melded into one truly awful sound, which gave the man a limitless delight. A sound that caused the man to swell with pride as he wore a menacing expression while an eager grin perched into the right corner of his mouth.

"BRING ME ALL OF IT, OR DIE WITH ME AS DRUNK AND FREE AS ANYONE HAS EVER BEEN!", he cried out to them all as their voices raised on high again, each one screaming at the crying skies while their faces twisted and contorted into awful yet exceptionally excited expressions. "RAMMING SPEED!", the Demon Captain crowed as he spun around again and yanked out his long, narrow blade who's length contained an elegant arch and an edge so sharp it could cut a gold coin in half if he but limpwristedly dropped it to the flat top of a wooden table. It was his pride and joy, apart from the Bishop, and he raised it high above his head as his piercing, ice blue eyes glared at a British Frigate who he was certain had a belly full of riches he had come to take for himself, all while the coast watched on as helpless as anyone had ever been.

The moon was glaring, the sky crying, and the only sound could be heard was the whisper of waters skipping off of the hull of the Bishop who was racing as quickly as he could at the broadside of the ship in the Demon's eyes. Then, after the world had held it's breath and the silence had finally reached it's climax, an incredible, Earth shattering "THOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!!!", rang out across the channel as the British ship was speared and split so that the the Bishop latch on tight. It's claws were deep, and no sooner had the snapping of wooden boards and cries of horror began to the Pirates begin to swing through the night with fire in their eyes.






"The Demon Captain"




Axel Cane "The Demon Captain"


Origin Story:
Captain Abaddon is a typically serious man with agendas constantly on his mind, unless someone can coax him into drinking more than he should rightly try to stomach. On the rare occasion that he does wind up drunk, he becomes much more tolerable, flirtatious and outright delightfully funny and engaging. Otherwise, though, he is more worried with the movements of their fleet.

When not so up tight and worried about their next job, the Captain is rather quiet and often chooses to retire to his personal quarters where he gets a lot of planning and reading done. Otherwise he'll often disappear when they reach Bastion Bay or Port Royal and retire to his own devices.

Typically dressed in dark leather, black and red attire, the Captain keeps dark colors on at all times in order to remain unseen at night and keep his enemies from seeing him bleed. He believes that there is nothing less intimidating than an enemy poked full of holes, and if God is willing to let him continue his tirade through the Caribbean and the Islands around England, then no number of gun and sword holes will bother him.

Quote:
"Calypso's in a right shit mood tonight, yah bunch ah bitches and bastarrrrds! Let's show thah salty cunt who she's pissan on!"


Character specific World setting:
The World Setting: In the year 1706, as salty as they come, Captain Axel of the Bishop leads a small fleet of five pirate vessels, all under his control, although he has appointed three others to oversee the operation of vessels he cannot direct himself. They, however, were not afforded the title of of Captain and instead are merely his ship operation subordinates.

The sweet spot of for anyone in his fleet is right there in the middle, on by far the largest ship of the five, the Bishop, where there are four stories of canons and three stories at the back of the ship offering seven rather lavish personal dwellings that he has awarded to his trusted Commanders. Three women, three men and himself make up the Salty Seven, a troop of pirates so vicious and foul that they only bother to gather together in times of war. Often times, though, one more more of them will take a smaller vessel off to undergo a mission given to them by Abaddon himself. Whether it be taking out a high priority target in the dead of night, stealing a ship that the Captain has his eye on or delivering and collecting on bounties taken while on the open sea.

He runs with some of the worst kind of filth that the Sea could possibly spit back up, but if a crew of liars, thieves and assassins can be given a purpose and enough riches, even they can be unified in order to work towards one, all inclusive cause. They'd have to be careful, though, as Britain has become intolerant of their kind and has begun issuing bounties for Pirates to be brought in, dead or alive. Such actions has caused civil unrest and a war across the sea is brewing.


Other Information:
Name: Axel Cane
Alias: The Demon Captain - The Pirate King
Sex: Male
Preference: Heterosexual
Age: 32
Race: Human
Rank: Captain
Height: 6'8"
Weight: 239 lbs
Eyes: Grayish Blue
Hair: Dirty Blonde/Light Brown



Ships under his command:

Man-O-War named "The Bishop"
Frigate named "Queen Anne's Noose"
Galleon named "Skybreaker"
a second Galleon named "Black Jack's Claim"
and lastly...
A Brigantine named "The Blind Man's Secret"











Disclaimer: SOME of this content, as well as most of the images that I use, are copy written. All rights are reserved by the author(s) of pre-existing characters pulled from comic books/Animes/TV shows/movies and sometimes solo artworks that I have not created by way of my own imagination and/or constructive efforts. All image rights are reserved by the artists who created them and they are merely being borrowed in an effort to give fellow writers and readers just a taste of what both my original character concepts and borrowed Fan-Fiction based characters might look like and dress like. None of this content, apart from some of the original character backgrounds, bios and story lines, actually belong(s) to me in any way. I do, however, reserve the rights to my own content pertaining to the characters that I have fabricated over the years that I have been a writer which I have put on display for you here in my character catalog. I reserve all rights to my own unique content including my compelling characters and story lines/stories pieced together and constructed for you to share in and enjoy. Thank you!



Write with your heart, not your head.

- N
« Last Edit: September 16, 2019, 12:01:16 am by Notorious »

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Re: The Notorious A - M for F(Request Thread)
« Reply #6 on: June 02, 2018, 10:59:12 pm »
Update Note: Small quality update. Found a few things a didn't like and some things that I moved around. ^_^

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Re: The Notorious A - M for F(Request Thread)
« Reply #7 on: July 04, 2018, 10:15:56 pm »
Update Note: Added new character named Warwick for some more options. Working on new characters and story types to be added at a later date.

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Re: The Notorious A - M for F(Request Thread)
« Reply #8 on: July 06, 2018, 03:41:45 am »
Update Note: Added two no stories to my current list. Moved one story off of the list into "Incomplete".

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Re: The Notorious A - M for F(Request Thread)
« Reply #9 on: July 14, 2018, 09:25:31 pm »
Update Note: Updated current and inactive stories list.

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Re: The Notorious A - M for F(Request Thread)
« Reply #10 on: August 07, 2018, 03:37:21 pm »
Update Note: Updated current and inactive stories list. Moved dead group story to inactives list.

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Re: The Notorious A - M for F(Request Thread)
« Reply #11 on: August 17, 2018, 07:45:43 pm »
Update Note: Updated actives and inactives. Made some grammatical adjustments. ^_^

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Re: The Notorious A - M for F(Request Thread)
« Reply #12 on: August 26, 2018, 01:06:36 pm »
Update Note: Adjusted preferences and added a preferences note for anyone and everyone who might be looking to see what I am and am not okay with writing. Thanks! ^_^

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Re: Notorious! - M for F(Request Thread)
« Reply #13 on: September 13, 2018, 10:24:52 am »
Update: Editing actives/inactives story list. Also some small editing of the request thread info.

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Re: Notorious! - M for F(Request Thread)
« Reply #14 on: December 26, 2018, 03:03:11 pm »
Update: overhauled my active threads and am pitching an update that I am working on my muse issues as I expect to return to writing at the beginning of 2019.

Need some good stories to get into...

Merry Christmas, nerds!

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Re: Notorious! - M for F(Request Thread)
« Reply #15 on: January 07, 2019, 03:21:32 am »
Large Update: Added a chapter three to my character catalogue for my profile. For anyone interested in writing My Hero Academia stories with me, the three new characters I just added directly correlate with the My Hero Academia story line.

Two characters are cannon and one is an original character set up to be a part of a MHA story line and all of their profiles are completed and include their respective theme songs...

Thanks, : ]


- N
« Last Edit: March 09, 2019, 12:21:32 am by Notorious »

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Re: Notorious! - M for F(Request Thread)
« Reply #16 on: January 08, 2019, 12:09:49 am »
Minor Update:

I .... CAN NOT FUCKING STOP making characters... so I decided to add another one to my collection of dudes...

Boone Holt, everyone. Hope ya like'em. : ]

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Re: Notorious! - M for F(Request Thread)
« Reply #17 on: January 26, 2019, 12:37:39 am »
Major Update: Revamped disclaimer - Reorganized some of my character information and added an entirely new character by the name if BAËL. Thanks

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Re: Notorious! - M for F(Request Thread)
« Reply #18 on: January 26, 2019, 01:50:31 am »
Minor Update: I don't know wtf is wrong with me. I can't stop making characters, so I said fuck it and threw in another one. Enjoy.


God bless


- N

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Re: Notorious! - M for F(Request Thread)
« Reply #19 on: March 02, 2019, 08:12:15 am »
Major Update: Added a new cannon character complete with art detail and theme song for the character. Also tidied up a bit and adjusted the look and feel of some of my profiles for a bit of a cleaner/smoother look and feel.

Thanks for looking, : ]


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Re: Notorious! - M for F(Request Thread)
« Reply #20 on: March 09, 2019, 12:21:13 am »
Small update - Had a couple of stories get abandoned due to hiatus/disinterest and some general tidying up to do for character profiles and writing samples.

Thanks for looking! ^_^


- N

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Re: Notorious! - M for F(Request Thread)
« Reply #21 on: April 07, 2019, 03:34:59 pm »
Writer Update: I'm having some serious muse issues right now and I don't really know what to do about it. To anyone that I've been discussing stories with or writing with lately, I'm very sorry. I'm just struggling right now and trying to work this out. I hope I haven't bothered anyone with my inconsistencies lately.

:/

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Re: Notorious! - M for F(Request Thread)
« Reply #22 on: April 21, 2019, 03:01:39 am »
Massive Update: Had a stroke of muse and wanted to rewrite, rebuild and  rework a few old characters I had laying around and fashion them for the Harry Potter universe. The three of them have been added to my character catalog.

Thanks for looking!

: ]


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Re: Notorious! - M for F(Request Thread)
« Reply #23 on: April 23, 2019, 02:14:13 pm »
Update: A few small quality/accuracy updates. Moved a couple of dead stories to inactive and added a couple new.

Thanks for looking!

- N

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Re: Notorious! - M for F(Request Thread)
« Reply #24 on: September 16, 2019, 12:05:32 am »
UPDATE: I've been thinking about coming back here to see about resurrecting a few stories, so I came back with an addition to my writer's Character Catalog called "Story Graveyard" in which I had a great world set up around a great character, but the story never took off. I'm posting it here to put it on display so that if anyone wants to pick it up for their character they can.

As always, thanks for taking a look at my thread! ^_^



- N