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 Posted: Fri May 18, 2012 6:49 am
★ ADVENTURE BIOFLATSALE ★
MALE REAPER
 OPEN: May 18 - June 8 ,2012▸ Event is open to both NEWBIES and OLDBIES alike.
▸ You are to create a character bio-profile and an event response for this character. You don't need to write a novel, but being inventive and making a good character won't hurt your chances of winning. It's also very important to have good punctuation, grammar and spelling, if possible.
▸ The 8th of June is the last day to get your entry in.
▸ On the 10th of June, the staff will choose the entries they like the most, and put them in a pile, to draw from randomly.
▸ If you're the chosen one, send trade to the artist: Yorugami for the flatsale price of 15k and the CERT will be dropped off. Save the CERT on your own server afterwards.
▸Good luck! [b]Character Name:[/b]
[b]Player Name:[/b]
[b]Race: [/b] Human or Majin?
[b]Aspirations:[/b]
[b]Personality:[/b]
[b]Short Biography/background:[/b]
[b]Tea:[/b][If applicable, some may already have teas.]
[b]EVENT 1: Your character, while talking a walk around the grounds at Poena Privus, is suddenly ambushed by a malevolent Witch Eater out to consume his magic! What does your character do- attack, defend, run or something else? Your character also notices that the Witch Eater seems to be on the edge of starvation and looking more than a bit pathetic-- Help it or Kill it?[/b]
[b]EVENT 2: While undergoing Reaper training, your character has had a pretty awful day. He's lost a rather significant mock battle, his weapon of choice isn't cooperating, he hasn't slept well in a few days and over all it's just been one crap-filled day. He's off licking his wounds in a corner when some nosy Witch decides to ask him: "What in the world is up with your scars dude?" How does your character react?[/b]
[b]You understand that if you are a new(ish) player, if you aren't active in rp or thread with the character you win for the first 3 months you can lose it?[/b] Yes or no
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Posted: Sun May 27, 2012 10:36 am
Character Name: Jekyll
Player Name: LunaRei_SilverBlood
Race: Human
Aspirations: To Kill all Majin
Personality:
Selfish – Jekyll doesn’t care about anyone else or anything thing else. In his demented mind, everyone could die, and it wouldn’t bother him one bit. The Reaper doesn’t do anything for anyone unless he gets something out of it. And his prices can vary. Often a ‘lone wolf’ because he’s been known to not help / protect a partner and often looks down on others.
Reckless – Jekyll is a loose cannon. His own safety is hardly a concern to him so long as he gets to kill something. He endangers not only himself but those around him happily. Fighting in a town square? He doesn’t care of the ‘innocents’ loose their heads. That’s not his job or responsibility to care about others.
Efficient – ‘By any means necessary’ are the only words this Reaper likes to hear outside of ‘Kill Majin’. When set with a goal his focus is on that and only that; even if it means leaving a trail of blood to get there. Need a quick fix? Ask Jekyll. He might not be the Reaper you see patrolling the neighborhood, but the one in the dark Alley.
Observant – Helping Jekyll be ever so efficient the young Reaper is hyper vigilant. Twitchy because he’s so ‘aware’. His one eye can see as well as any sharp shooter, and a mind that is probably to intelligent for him to actually handle, calculating your steps and possible outcomes.
Unquestioning – Forever a loyal dog, Jekyll never questions orders. He doesn’t care what the end result in since he more often than not, doesn’t stick around. He enjoys doing the dirty work and has no issue having blood on his hands.
Short Biography/background: Jekyll wasn’t born to the name Jekyll. He actually no longer remembers what his parents named him. But the boy was once a happy, sweet, smart child with the world as his finger tips. He wanted to create and protect life. He grew up in the light and shined ever so brightly. He use to tell his parents that he wanted to be a doctor when he grew up so he could help others.
But all things come to an end. His parents had been involved in something dark. Something Jekyll never found the answer too and still wonders today what, not that he would ever tell you. With his parents Jekyll had gone to a family friends house one evening. Normally he would have been told to stay upstairs, but tonight was a special night his mothers told him. At the age of 8, he had started to show signs of magic. His parents felt it was time for him to have the ‘right of passage’.
The basement was dimly lit and there were many faces there. Both those he knew and those he didn’t. But he didn’t see any of his young friends. Everyone looked at him but something didn’t feel right. There was a large block that was covered in a sheet. His father told him that was his present, but something… Something was breathing in there with strange gurgling sounds. Someone yanked the sheet off… And Jekyll…
For a long time the boy couldn’t remember what happened. But he changed, in a dark, angry murderous way. The place he was kept was eye blinding white. He couldn’t move anything, not even able to turn his head. Starting to twitch as time went on, and laughing at nothing.
Someone came into the place once a day to give him some shots. No one talked to him no matter how much he screamed. And time passed however swiftly or slowly he couldn’t tell. Until one day someone came in and stood directly in front of him. It was a male, that held pictures, and started to tell the boy a story. It seemed so familiar. The light, happiness but why? The pictures were of people he thought he knew, they were all ripped to shreds, there was blood everywhere, it was disgusting but the boy couldn’t look away. He wanted to see more. The last picture there was a child, huddled into the middle of the corpses and drenched in blood, eyes wide with a crazy smile holding an arm.
The man left the room and ‘life’ went back to the way it had been in the white room. Someone came in and told him “You are 13 today.” He couldn’t remember the days or nights, everything was a blur. Torturous and strange, Jekyll’s mind was his prison, no one to talk too, only the images and his thoughts. He was destroyed and being rebuilt but into what? Where was he? Was he being helped or hurt here? This is where he received his name, Jekyll.
The facility he was being kept in was experimental. They thought doing things this way would help him cope with what happened. But it did the exact opposite. Over time interact with other people became regular, and life started to seem normal for a facility. He talked of dark things but that was ‘normal’ for what he had gone through. When Jekyll was old enough to start School he received tutors before he was discharged and was put into the Academy. When he graduated he though his life could go on and he would ‘find himself.’ But that was not the case, he brought back to the facility and forced to relive the horrific night again, because the doctors wanted to see what would happen. He snapped, and anything that was normal about him had been lost. He never spoke of what happened that night in the basement.
( Some of his story is scattered for a reason. If I win I plan to fill things in with RP and such~ )
Tea: Death's Kiss
EVENT 1: Your character, while talking a walk around the grounds at Poena Privus, is suddenly ambushed by a malevolent Witch Eater out to consume his magic! What does your character do- attack, defend, run or something else? Your character also notices that the Witch Eater seems to be on the edge of starvation and looking more than a bit pathetic-- Help it or Kill it?
Jekyll enjoyed stalking the grounds of Poena Privus, especially at night. And tonight seemed extra quiet, which made it all the more interesting for him. When the Witch Eater ambushed Jekyll the Reaper was already in attack stance. His breath misted as it left his lips, a crazy eye in his eyes.
“Well looks like you walked into the wrong playground.” Jekyll hissed. To his dismay the new target was already rather weak, and desperate for coming to Poena. The grass made little to no noise under the sandals as Jekyll lounged for the Witch Eater. Who then lounged right back at him. With a dodge under the creatures arm, Jekyll slipped behind with a wild smile as he swung the scythe around and the blade kissed the Witch Eaters flesh along his neck before Jekyll yanked it back and through the spine.
“Far to Easy… But yummy none the less.” He shook the scythe some before wiping it in the Now beheaded Witch Eaters shirt as if the blood would erode the blade.
You understand that if you are a new(ish) player, if you aren't active in rp or thread with the character you win for the first 3 months you can lose it? Yes
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Posted: Wed May 30, 2012 12:56 am
WIP, not finished yet, will be editing later
Character Name: Corbin
Player Name: II Necromantic II
Race: Human
Aspirations: Retribution. To cleanse his soul of the many sins of his past. To make strong the weak and protect those who need it. Maybe then he can be forgiven...
Personality:
Agressive: There is a certain joy that comes with fighting. Like the beaten dog that now lashes out at his master. The thrill of battle...of beating down your opponent...it's intoxicating for him.
Moody/ Sulking: The shadows are all he knows anymore, and Corbin is perfectly comfortable staying there. In a way, he is in love with his own misery, and he prefers to be alone.
Reliable: Corbin is always true to his word, if he says he will meet you at the cafe at 6:00, He will meet you at the cafe at 6:00 (even if the world has succumed to some sort of zombie invasion). Vows are never broken and promisies are always kept. This one literally can't tell a lie.
Unemotional(ish): Cold, so cold he's basically frozen. His tone is always flat, his eyes that echo a warmth that was lost so long ago. But a snake slithers underneath that mask, let loose is you manage to hit a nerve.
Short Biography/background: Once upon a time Corbin had a loving family. His father, mother and younger brother lived by the outskirts of the city. A peaceful home, his family took pride in the life they had made for themselves. It was during his eleventh year his life changed.
Once upon a time Corbin didn't see the man his father truely was. He was the picture-perfect husband, but underneath was something darker. His black-market dealings drew the attention of a particular Witch-eater. You see, in exchange for his own life, his father would assist in locating and trapping witches for the witch-eater. Or at least, he used to. Sickened by himself he withdrew from that path.
It wasn't that easy...
The witch-eater grew angry, after all they had a deal, and now there was a price to pay. That price would come in the form of Corbin and his family.
"Hello there boy, where's your family? Could you show me?"
As shreiks filled the night air, Corbin fled his home with his younger brother. Thier parents had sacrificed them selves so they may have a chance. His brother tripped, fell. Corbin did not go back for him.
"Here little witch-boy, won't you be my pet? Come play."
He didn't know if his brother survived that night. Maybe he escaped? Or was he gone like his parents? He didn't know why the witch-eater left him alive. Perhaps it was by some merciful act, but not without it's own price. Or rather, he was to suffer, as ugly on the outside as the inside, after all, he had lead the witch-eater to his family. If he had heeded his mother's words regarding strangers, would the witch-eater have found them?
Tea: tba
EVENT 2: While undergoing Reaper training, your character has had a pretty awful day. He's lost a rather significant mock battle, his weapon of choice isn't cooperating, he hasn't slept well in a few days and over all it's just been one crap-filled day. He's off licking his wounds in a corner when some nosy Witch decides to ask him: "What in the world is up with your scars dude?" How does your character react?
That single question had many possible outcomes. Who was this girl, and what made it her buisness to stick her nose into his life? He should tell her, how he begged for mercy, how he had betrayed his own kin. Then we'd see how smart she was.
He was a failure.
Ugh. He did not need this right now. How dare she. His grip on his weapon tightened. Corbin was tempted to take her, right then and there. Send her crying home. But then, he'd just lost a previous battle. He probably couldn't even take on this weakling.
He was the weakling.
There were no excuses. He needed to be better than this. Better next time. But in the real world, there was no "next time". No second chances. If you weren't strong enough, you lost. Corbin had learned that the hard way. Yesw, he should tell her, the whole story, no padding things out, no parental guidance warning. He should tell her exactly how he got his scars.
But in the end, the only thing he said was: "Get lost.".
You understand that if you are a new(ish) player, if you aren't active in rp or thread with the character you win for the first 3 months you can lose it? Yes
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Posted: Sun Jun 03, 2012 4:30 pm
Character Name: Alabaster
Player Name: PidgeonsGoMeowX3
Race: Human
Aspirations:
First, excel as a reaper without having to completely sacrifice his tolerance for Majin and Witch Eaters. Second, gain a sense of acceptance from his fellow reapers if he feels his views are not fully tolerated.
Personality:
Alabaster has a knack for being spontaneous, sarcastic and overwhelming. He loves nothing more than to argue with anyone with an ego or anyone that thinks they should always be in charge. In fact, he seems to love to argue with just about anyone, and has been labeled as intolerable and unyielding with his profanities during idle conversation. A crazy man by nature and a smart alec by heart, Alabaster has a way of driving even the most patient of people to the brink of insanity. But oddly enough 'Baster, as he's called by most people, is still known as a well liked person among his peers.
Despite his overpowering first impression, Alabaster is valued for his bravery, loyalty and most importantly, his humility. With his scythe firmly grasped and his mind clearly focused, he can and will protect you from any attacker. But when it comes to actually killing said attacker, it depends on the situation. Alabaster doesn't believe in killing anything unless there is a justifiable reason to do so. He firmly believes that all beings deserve to live and to live happily, a deep rooted belief steming from his past. This means that he'll take down the foe and maybe injure them just enough so they can no longer walk or move, but he would never think of taking their life. Even when faced with a Majin or a Witch Eater, this odd little reaper wouldn't want to kill them, but he would cause irreversable damage to them so they wouldn't cause any more trouble.
Alabaster knows that his views, especially when concerning Majin and Witch Eaters, might make him look uninterested or not commited to his role as a reaper. But he's determined to excell at what he does despite this fact and he'll do whatever it takes to be accepted by his peers, just not to the extent to where he has to kill another living being in order to "belong". He does fear that his affiliation with the reapers will be terminated because of his views and that he might have to find something else to do with his magic. But, he figures that he'd be able to argue his way back in if he really had to.
Short Biography/background:
Alabaster had a rough start to life. His mother was a teenaged runaway that had vanished after she gave birth to his sickly younger brother. His father was a notorious theif who spent half his time supporting his family and the other half running from the authorities. Alabaster and his siblings, Sarah and Markus, were usually left under the "watchful eyes" of neighbors until their father could come "visit" them when he was sure that he had "shaked" the "fuzz off his trail." During these visits his father would bring stolen food, clothes, notebooks and assorted utensils. Then he'd spend the day with his kids, usually playing games, discussing schoolwork and tending to Alabaster's younger brother. Alabaster loved his father and respected the man, even if he understood that the things his father brought them were stolen and not earned through honest work.
This way of life continued until Markus came down with a horrible fever. Alabaster recalls the day as one of his worst, his father made the gut wrenching decision to take Markus to the hospital, a choice that would surely end in Markus receving treatment and an unavoidable trip to jail for him. Sure enough, sirens came blaring down the street and Alabaster's father was whisked away. The last thing he said to Alabaster was "Never, ever, become like me." Five words that became a solemn vow for the young reaper-to-be.
The years to follow were no better for Alabaster. He had been separated from his siblings and placed in the home of a less than sane doctor who found the boy to be "incredibly interesting." At first the doctor was kindly and offered him nothing but love and support. But soon, his true intentions were revealed, the man wanted Alabaster to take part in a series of experiements, all of which the boy could not refuse.
It started with a drastic change to his skin color, then his right eye was removed. Then he recieved stitches on his mouth so the doctor could "always see him smile." Finally, as if it were ritualistic, his skin was slashed and repeatedly stabbed until thick, dark scars formed in their place. All throughout this torment the doctor would marvel at the progress he was making, while Alabaster saw nothing but illness and destruction when he was shown a mirror. His whole life had been destroyed and now he had the body to match.
As time withered on, the doctor slowly began to cease his experimentation. While he had always given Alabaster his basic needs such as food, water, his own room, and other nesscities, he had never allowed him to visit the towns or venture off of his property. He decided to take Alabaster out to the city of Moonfall, mostly to see how the boy would fair if he were suddenly exposed to crowds. He had expected Alabaster to retract and stay by his side, but as soon as Alabaster saw that he was out of the doctor's sight, the young teen took off like a bat out of hell.
Alabaster has been free for about six years now and can proudly say that he has earned that freedom. He lived on the streets for a little while and vigorously searched for either of his siblings, which came to no avail. However, during his search, he came across Makai Royal Academy and decided to apply to become a student there. He figured that by doing this he'd become part of a group and feel less alone in the world while honoring his father's wish. His father had no education and Alabaster was determined to honor his father's wish by getting an education for himself.
Sometime after becoming a Recognized Witch, Alabaster began to consider which path he wanted to take as he went forward with his training. After weighing his options and asessing his values in terms of which group he would get along better with, he chose to follow the path of the Reapers. With hardwork and determination, Alabaster reached his goal and became the smart-mouthed, crazy reaper that we know today. However, he remains a bit worried about his ability to stay in his chosen group, mostly due to his refusal to kill any living being, even a Majin or a Witch Eater. But if such a problem does arise, he's always willing to reference back to his past experiences while living with the doctor, just in case he needs some fuel for his argument.
Tea: Oddball's Grin
Tea Ingredients: Waffles, Fool's Gold, Journal of Asylum Patient, A Drop Of Rum, Acorn Pudding, and Jagged Tooth
EVENT 1: Your character, while talking a walk around the grounds at Poena Privus, is suddenly ambushed by a malevolent Witch Eater out to consume his magic! What does your character do- attack, defend, run or something else? Your character also notices that the Witch Eater seems to be on the edge of starvation and looking more than a bit pathetic-- Help it or Kill it?
The scenario was a little frightning for Alabaster. Here he was, a reaper on his own grounds, backed up against a wall with his scythe jutted out in front of him, all to keep a mangy, pathetic looking Witch Eater at a safe distance. He sweated, contemplating what the other reapers he knew would do if they saw him like this. They wouldn't hesistate to take this Witch Eater down, but would they hesitate to laugh and spread the news of the incident to the higher-ups? He didn't want to take that chance. Still, the more and more he looked his "opponent" over, the more and more sorry he felt for their desperation. It was very unfortunte that another living being had to suffer like this because of what it was born to be.
Then the Witch Eater broke his train of thought and he watched the next event in horror. She had plummeted to the ground like a fallen rock and lay panting on her side, a sign that her body was giving in to the starvation. His heart twinged as he crept over to the pale, sweat leaden girl, his scythe still held outwards in case of a sneak attack. But it wasn't long until he sat down next to her and began to gently stroke her hair. Her eyes were only open just enough to tell that her irises were blue and they fluttered around furiously. Then her body began to tremble uncontrollably and Alabaster bit his lip. She was seizing.
After a moment, her distress had become too horrible for Alabaster to bear. He reluctantly reached for his scythe and raised it high over her body.
"I'm sorry..." He choked out. "...It's almost over. Forgive me..."
The odd Reaper closed his eyes tightly as tears trickled down his cheeks, his arms sharply slamming his scythe down upon her.
EVENT 2: While undergoing Reaper training, your character has had a pretty awful day. He's lost a rather significant mock battle, his weapon of choice isn't cooperating, he hasn't slept well in a few days and over all it's just been one crap-filled day. He's off licking his wounds in a corner when some nosy Witch decides to ask him: "What in the world is up with your scars dude?" How does your character react?
Alabaster smirked. He lost a mock battle because his weapon of choice wasn't cooperating. Alabaster grinned. He hadn't slept a wink in at least a week because of rowdy neighbors. Alabaster chuckled. It had been a terrible day. But now some smart-a** little Witch was just about to make all his problems vanish with the wind.
"You want to know where I got these scars, miss?" He asked, tapping his fingers on the table in front of him.
"Well, DUH." The Witch replied, rolling her eyes. "That's why I ASKED."
Alabaster snicked and assumed a crooked grin. "Well then, let me tell you..." He said, his voice becoming more sinister. He pointed to the slash marks on his arm. "I got this one when the doctor wanted a blood sample..." He pointed to the scar under his eyepatch. "I got this one when the doctor slipped up with his knife after cutting out my eyeball..." Then he pointed to the stitching on his mouth. "And I got these for crying too much when the doctor locked me up to see how I'd react to solitary confinement..." He turned his attention back to the Witch who had become quite uneasy. "Would you like to see my empty eye socket?" He asked with a maddening grin.
The little witch stepped back a furiously shook her head. "No, no. That'll do!" She stammered as she turned to scurry away. "G-goodbye now! T-take care!"
"OH, OKAY! BYE-BYE NOW!" Alabaster shouted as she left the room. "NEXT TIME DON'T BE SUCH A STUPID TWIT WHEN YOU ASK SOMEBODY A QUESTION ABOUT THE STRANGE THINGS ON THEIR SKIN! IT COULD SAVE YOU FROM HAVING NIGHTMARES!" After he was sure she had gone he took a deep breath and leaned back to relax in his seat. Ah, stupid twits can be such amazing stress relievers.
You understand that if you are a new(ish) player, if you aren't active in rp or thread with the character you win for the first 3 months you can lose it? Yes. <3
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Posted: Tue Jun 05, 2012 11:49 am
Character Name: Rondelle Magnus - Strictly goes by Magnus unless the other person knows him well.
Player Name: Trixsy
Race: Majin
Aspirations: Stay secret, strong, and dependent while assisting other Majin. He wants to live a normal life, as unlikely as that is to happen, and so he has decided to pursue the path to become a Black Heart.
Personality: Magnus is quite the mufti-faceted individual. The face he shows to the world is cocky and self absorbed. He makes jokes at the expense of others and often acts out with violence - both in words and actions - when others try to get close. It's a defense mechanism, obviously, but an effective one nonetheless. When he's alone however he lets the manic, sadistic persona slip and becomes quite calm. Should someone manage to look past his quirks and become his friend or companion he does try to maintain his outer persona as long as possible, though eventually it becomes far too exhausting and he lets others see him for who he really is. He refuses to live up to expectations others have of him and takes criticism very poorly. He does have a soft spot for children and animals, though the former tends to fear him based on his appearance. He's also quite intelligent, possessing an extensive knowledge of potions, most of which dealing with altering one's physical appearance.
Short Biography/background: Magnus doesn't like to think about his childhood... he knew he was a Majin as early as he could remember. He was raised by humans, not his biological family, and they made sure he knew what he was and worked with him on how to control himself, how to blend in, and how to accept himself. In truth, Magnus was a normal, healthy child. He had a lot of friends, he was quite social, but when he was eight his idyllic existence was destroyed by anti Majin extremists. You see, he wasn't the only Majin under his parents' roof. As there are extremists that hate, there are also extremists who love and his parents had made it their mission to take in "stray Majin children" to love and teach.
It was a massacre. Magnus remembers it all... the stench of blood, the raw screaming... the only thing he doesn't remember is how he survived. He had returned home to a fire and ran inside to find his siblings, to try and get them out of the blaze, but inside he saw only burning and bleeding bodies and heard screams from other parts of the house. He ran from room to room, coughing as his lungs were assaulted by the stench of smoke and death. The last thing he remembered was rushing into an upstairs room and came upon a cloaked man pulling a bloodied blade from a small body. His alarmed shout got the unknown man's attention... and then Magnus felt a shock and looked down to see the blade buried in his own chest.
Everything went dark and when he came to he was buried under the smoldering rubble of his one time home. Weak from blood loss and in pain, he dragged himself into the nearby forest where he fully expected to die. He managed to get himself to one of the tall trees he used to climb and curled up beneath the shade, not making a sound, not even crying. It was chance that a Druid came across the wounded boy and without a second thought took Magnus under his wing... healing him and nursing him back to health. The Druid wasn't a prying sort, and since he could see that Magnus wasn't exactly in the best situation, he offered to let the young Majin travel with him. Magnus agreed, and everything he learned he learned under the tutelage of the strict Druid he called "Uncle Rem".
It wasn't long before Magnus came to the realization that he wanted to help other Majin. There were many that had been like him, abandoned and picked up by caring individuals but were simply dealt a bad hand... there were even more that had no idea what they were and simply needed guidance to keep them from becoming the monsters society feared they could be. He hated the evil Majin just as much as any extremist, perhaps more, since all they did was make it more difficult for those that wanted to exist with everyone else. Learning how to alter another's appearance became vital for smuggling known Majin to safety or helping others get a fresh start, and eventually joining the reapers became the platform Magnus would use to help the good and punish the bad, as violently as possible.
Known for his ruthlessness, he displays the butchered remains of those he kills as a warning. Majin seeking his help learn of secret meeting places through whispers and rumor... finding abandoned buildings or secret groves in the wilderness. Magnus does nothing to make others suspicious of who he might really be, as he keeps the knowledge that he is a Majin from everyone, including the other reapers. He even keeps his identity from those he helps, using temporary potions to change his appearance to one more... agreeable and trustworthy looking. It wouldn't do for a Majin to be greeted by a boogeyman!
Magnus knows that if any of the other reapers found out his secret it would mean very bad things for him, but as far as he's concerned his position helps him find those that he needs to help or punish. He's learned to hide himself well and while the allure of devouring another's magic entirely is always there, he controls himself well. He tries to stay in heavily populated areas, siphoning miniscule bits of magic from the multitudes. However, should he become stranded somewhere, who knows what could happen...
Tea: Brew together the following: Chameleon tongue, burnt flowers, graveyard dirt, a crow feather, poppy seeds and a "generous drop" of rum and you have Magnus' tea, which he calls Two Paths in private.. to others he claims it's called Trail of Death. He often uses the tea to meditate on the choices he's made, the path he's on, and the path he must avoid.
EVENT 1: Your character, while talking a walk around the grounds at Poena Privus, is suddenly ambushed by a malevolent Witch Eater out to consume his magic! What does your character do- attack, defend, run or something else? Your character also notices that the Witch Eater seems to be on the edge of starvation and looking more than a bit pathetic-- Help it or Kill it?
Magnus squinted up at the sky, peering at the dark clouds rolling in. It definitely seemed like it was going to pour soon. He actually quite enjoyed rain, the water was soothing and he loved watching lightning streak across the sky... waiting for the boom of thunder to follow. As a child he had been the one that younger siblings ran to during the storm. They called him brave, clung to him in the blankets and burst into giggles when he tickled them to distract them from their fear.
His head was lowered, ruby colored eye flickering to a blood red as his mood fluctuated... the result of an experimental potion he'd taken once, when a sudden shriek made him jerk back, looking up just as a hand armed with sharp claws raked across the already maimed right side of his face. His eye patch was ripped off, revealing the empty socket beneath paired with vicious scars, now bloodied from a new wound. The crimson of his blood showed bright against his pale, ashy skin as it slid down his cheek to the corner of his mouth. The man's tongue darted out, tasting the blood, and a cruel smile twisted his features, making him seem even more horrific
He saw the Witch Eater a short distance away, breathing heavily and looking at Magnus warily. She had to recognize him... he was a reaper, one that made quite bold and bloody statements, and this Witch Eater had just attacked him openly at a place where reapers frequently gathered. Magnus reached down, grabbing his eye patch from the ground and balled it up in his fist. A raspy chuckle passed his lips as he eyed the Witch Eater up and down. She was so weak... he could see it plain as day. She needed magic and had gone after the first thing she saw, a stupid plan to be certain.
"You're not very bright, are you Eater?" As Magnus growled out his words in that gravelly voice the clouds opened up, drenching the area almost instantly while thunder rumbled in the distance.
Though the Witch Eater was clearly weak and perhaps even in need of help, she was the sort that Magnus could not abide... he destroyed the former Majin with great prejudice. Clenching the fist that held the eye patch, there was a dark flash before a great ebony scythe materialized. The scythe obviously jogged the Witch Eater's memory more than Magnus' face as her expression melted from determination to desperation, "W-wait! I didn't realize! I... I'm just so hungry and I...!"
Magnus gave his scythe a simple twirl, readying his posture into an attack pose and simply sneered, "Too late. My pity died with your humanity."
And with that he sped forward. Obviously a Witch Eater is no simple foe, but one weakened... well she didn't put up nearly as much of a fight as Magnus had hoped. With the woman pierced on his scythe like a worm on a hook, and screaming bloody murder, cursing him and gurgling up blood, he dragged her to the front gates of Poena Privus. She was getting quieter as they went, the trail of blood left behind gradually seeping into the ground with the help from the downpour.
Once they reached the main gate her eyes were drooping, her skin getting pale, and Magnus looked down at with without a hint of pity. His expression was cold as he slowly slid his scythe from the Witch Eater's body, his head tilting when she gurgled and made some pained mewling sound. Crouching down before her he took hold of her chin, forcing their eyes to meet, "You won't be hungry anymore. You won't be desperate either. And... you won't hurt anyone else."
Leaning forward he briefly rested his forehead against hers, eye closing as he absorbed what magic of hers he could without crossing that limit to being the type of monster he hunted. Just because he could hide well didn't mean he wouldn't take magic where he could. The Witch Eater was slumped over, blood trickling from her lips, and Magnus stood and decided to put an end to it.
Anyone passing by would see a gruesome sight... a decapitated head shoved onto a spike at the main gate with the body dangling below, gore splattered around and the deceased Witch Eater's entrails arranged to spell "welcome" on the ground. The area was also filled with crows and other scavengers soon enough, nature's clean up service, but Magnus knew some poor souls would see it and word would spread as it always did.
Walking back inside, Magnus was covered in blood, his scythe once more an ordinary eye patch which he tied over his face once again. Whistling under his breath, he ignored the startled looks given his way and went off to get cleaned up. It had been an interesting start to the day.
You understand that if you are a new(ish) player, if you aren't active in rp or thread with the character you win for the first 3 months you can lose it? Of course! :3
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Posted: Thu Jun 07, 2012 12:30 pm
Character Name: Mischa
Player Name: Infinite Nebulae
Race: Human
Aspirations: To give only good karma and reap only what he has sown.
Personality:
Mischa isn’t the kind to brood in a corner, nursing his cigarette. He’s much for social activity and loud music. In fact, he’s probably much more social than what people would initially gauge him to be. He enjoys smiling, (ever since his face was sewn into a permanent smile by a witch eater,) but instead of cowering away from the lime light, Mischa only went closer to it. His body was forever ruined by a single witch eater, yet that hasn’t ever gotten him down. Yet for all this attention-loving, he has a very dark side. He likes to push people's boundaries. He likes to see what makes them angry, sad or annoyed. He finds life to be a simple game, of which he wants to see all the outcomes on the faces of those he meets.
Mischa loves people, and would rather immerse himself within a crowd and listen to good music than hide away for what’s been done to him. He’s also contrary to his appearance, very forgiving. But even that has an extent of what he’s willing to forgive. He’d forgive a man for a brutal murder, as he relishes in the act of taking life as well (But only those who have taken a witch’s heart), but he’d never forgive a man for taking a witch’s heart.
While he does not hate anyone, he certainly has no true feelings one way or another toward witch eaters, or people in general. It’s either, they can be forgiven, or they die. Mischa feels that it’s all very cut and dry. Unlike his peers, he does not go out of his way to bring negative energy around him, like hating of majin or witch eaters, but rather he just goes about his life the way he wants. He understands that a witch eater has chosen to consume a heart, and thus he understands that their punishment must simply be death. Mischa believes in the saying “what you reap is what you sow.” There is no deeper or hidden reasoning behind anything, what you do, is simply what you’ve done and thus whatever comes after is no fault but your own, good or bad. End results always make him excited. Which is why he loves to explore the human mind so much and "test the waters" of how far he can push a person till they snap.
He also heavily believes in karma, and thus often will go out of his way after he’s killed a witch eater, or insulted someone, to do something very nice for someone else. While being a reaper doesn’t always mean killing, Mischa has certainly warped it that way. Being that he feels taking a witch’s heart is the only thing he cannot forgive, he believes that it is the utmost worst of crimes. To bring so much bad karma around oneself only means death as the answer.
He loves to tell jokes and be the center of attention. He's not always aiming to push people to negative energy. On the contrary! He only does that occasionally. Too much bad karma and death will find him. And he finds death so terribly boring! Most of the time, he's a rather relaxed figure with a misfortune background, but that doesn't make him unapproachable. He enjoys having friends and people to care for. It only makes killing that much more fun. To know he's saved those he likes, it just brings him more good karma.
Mischa does have many vices. He loves his cigarettes and will often take no care in how it affects others. If they’re coughing and giving him subtle hints, he’ll often just shrug it off and pretend it’s not happening. He’d make up the bad karma he’d given to them later. He indulges in the moment rather than thinks of the future. As he believes things are exactly what they seem and nothing more, he’s very quick to act and never one to think.
Mischa has a hard time understanding people when it comes to emotions. And he’s been called many a time by female admirers, “dense.” When he was attacked by a witch eater, most of his mind was brutally damaged with psychological pain as well as the physical. He became introverted with his emotions, even if he loves to surround himself with people, to the point where it’s almost as if he has no moral conscience. He doesn’t understand sympathy, or fear. And he certainly doesn’t understand courting; not to say he doesn’t like a good “romp” now and then, but romance is a ballgame he’s yet to play. With his lack of understanding, it makes him a great killer, but extremely morally ambiguous. While he fights on the side of “good” his methods are questioned even by his peers and no one can seem to really understand what exactly it is that he is thinking. He is not without emotion though. He tries to hide them within himself, but they always bleed out. He grows to care, to fear, to excitement like anyone else, but he just often has a different way of going from point a to point b.
Short Biography/background:
Mischa was an average student, with an average magical ability with rather average parents. His mother was a witch who taught at the local school and his father was a Cerberus Knight. Both were human, like himself and both showered him with love and were there to wipe his tears away when he came home from school for being bullied or any of the hardships typical children face.
It wasn’t until after graduation, when Mischa had become a recognized witch that his life became anything but “normal.” He had found his group that he fit in most with, which were the alternative kids, found smoking and even dabbled a bit in illegal drugs, but at least the music was loud and the company was good. He was coming home one night from a party when a man appeared out of the shadows with slender, beautiful black wings.
Mischa, tired and still only a new witch was taken against his will to be “eaten.” Only what happened to him wasn’t just a simple attack. He was tortured as an experiment for hours. The scars still shine against his skin today and the smile forever in place. The witch eater knew he wouldn’t die from the attack and that was exactly what the man wanted. He wanted a dull, lifeless witch with no witch’s heart to “smile” even when he knew in all logial capacity, they were no longer whole, so he had sewn a fake smile onto Mischa’s face that forever scarred him with an unending smile of supposed joy and laughter, yet this smile did not bring him laughter or joy, but only a panic so deep and a pain so cold that his mind suffered serious psychological damage. To be taken like this, to be mutilated against his will and to be defenseless left him feeling vulnerable to an instinctual panic and his body reacted only by shutting down its mind and reprogramming it to fight against what had happened.
While he was saved before the witch eater could devour his witch heart, he never would heal from the event. A reaper found him, as she’d been on the track for awhile of this specific witch eater and she’d disposed of him quickly, yet her calming words could not stop his tears. For the longest time, Mischa hid away from the world, listening to nothing but his own sorrow and feeling his face forever moist with tears, yet as time went on, he first got angry, and then enraged, but then acceptance finally came over him. He ventured back into the world, vowing to never allow something like that take another. He’d kill any witch eater who’d dare take a heart like that one attempted to take his, and he’d make sure he filled the world with nothing but good energy and good karma. To allow one moment to bring his life down like a crumbling wall in an earthquake was unacceptable. He’d grieved, but then he’d moved on. He became a reaper, in honor of the female who’d saved his life. But his mind was still broken from the event all those years ago. His peers noticed his lack of emotional understanding and his brutal and “simplistic” outlook on life and those who took hearts. Their hate though, allowed this to be accepted and he was a respected reaper and even utilized to do much dirty work, all of which he happily takes…
With a smile on his face.
Tea: Bone Ash
EVENT 2: While undergoing Reaper training, your character has had a pretty awful day. He's lost a rather significant mock battle, his weapon of choice isn't cooperating, he hasn't slept well in a few days and over all it's just been one crap-filled day. He's off licking his wounds in a corner when some nosy Witch decides to ask him: "What in the world is up with your scars dude?" How does your character react?
Anyone who knew Mischa, at least on a cordial level could tell when he was “smiling” and when he was smiling. The sewn scars, so embedded into Mischa’s physique taunted anyone who dared look at his face, wondering what misfortune had happened to him. Today, the strings, magically infused to never leave nor infect his body pulled at his lips, forcing them into an awkward smile that did not reach his eyes. He was quite wounded and quite upset. It was the anniversary weekend of when he was taken. The abuses he’d suffered surfaced on his mind, playing over and over like a broken record.
He ran a finger, perfectly manicured finger over a fresh wound, smearing the blood over his soft skin. Blood stains never seemed to leave the tips of his fingers. He quite frankly enjoyed the brown hue, a gentle reminder of what he was now capable of doing and what he loved to do. So many felt he was crazed, but that would be quite the opposite. He wasn’t broken. He was fixed! That attack set everything in front of him like a man holding a candle, simply pointing the way within the murkiness of the world. Everything was simple, everything made sense, and everything was controlled by the power of karma.
So why did he feel rather…uncomfortable? He hadn’t been sleeping of late. Often times he’d find himself waking at night, looking out at the moon and wishing nothing more than to slash the throat of a witch eater who dared cross his path. Other times, he simply wondered why there was an ache within his heart. He’d pushed aside emotions, safeguarding them within the deep caverns of his mind, so black and cold he didn’t think they were truly there, but would they ever resurface? Could they stand on the precipice of change and break from his locked chambers within? He hoped not. Life was so much easier now that he understood it. He didn’t want it taken away!
To make matters worse, this was haunting him, this week, the lack of sleep, the confusion on what he was feeling and it all brewed together, creating a potion for disaster. He’d not been able to summon his weapon when training and quite frankly, he’d only looked like a fool. He felt the disdain of anger and the wish to place his fingers around his opponent’s soft throat and squeeze. Squeeze so hard his eyes popped out. A wicked, true smile graced his scarred face. Killing was so sweet. There was so much control within it. Mischa felt true power, when he was on the brink of a kill. It’s what made him a shoe-in for the Reapers, even he had know it, just like everyone else. He wasn’t afraid to get his hands dirty and he certainly enjoyed the feeling of blood under the nail. So when it came for the roster of the Reapers, there his name was, in bold red, almost like they were telling him to kill them all…
Yet despite his victories today he seemed to be able to do nothing right. He was beaten in every skirmish, and left bruised, bleeding and bitter. It was uncharacteristic of him to brood, yet here he was, nursing his wounds like a lone, sick wolf, still hungry and enraged with the need to kill. There couldn’t have been a more foolish idiot to go up to him now.
Yet somehow, a fool was about. The witch was young, still unsure if she wanted to be a reaper or not. Mischa had a soft spot for her, but today, he was on no mood for little board games or laughter. He just wanted to sulk in his misery, curse his humanity and rise above this with a brutal death. He wanted to rip someone’s intestines out. The image sent a shiver down his spine, but the images were vanquished like a witch eater at the end of his scythe as she came up to him. Her eyes were round, large and purple; brimming with all the innocence of the world, spilling over each time she blinked.
He simply grunted.
“Hello sir!” she announced happily, her eyes rounding to happy arches as she smiled.
Her smile made him sick…
“The others were telling me about your scars…” she said softly, playing with the end of her short skirt. He wanted to scream at her, to tell her to bugger off and realize that her skirt left hardly anything to the imagination and that she looked like a whore, yet he couldn’t do that to her.
“Want to hear the story?” he asked bitterly, licking at the blood dripping from his arm. His blood red eyes locked with hers, and he could see fear, but so much curiosity in those amethyst orbs that he hoped she didn’t decline. He honestly knew he’d had her hooked like a fish.
She nodded, sitting down next to him, her eyes blinking every so often, waiting in anticipation.
Mischa leaned back, wincing as his open wounds protested the muscles moving under the ruptured veins and arteries. “Tomorrow, would be the day, several years ago. I had been a new witch, fresh out of the academy.” The images of the day filtered back to his mind. He’d been a bit buzzed on alcohol and so very tired. He could faintly remember the records he and his friends had been listening to. Black Sabbath and Cannibal Corpse. Two vastly different bands, but both damn good.
He took a drag on his cig, blowing the smoke out to form a smiling skull. “It was at night. The air hung thick with the threat of rain and the sun had long hid away from the sky. I was waking home.” He made sure to leave out the alcohol part. She was far too young for that. “I felt like I was being watched…but I couldn’t really tell. I’d turned around, looking about, moved faster to slower to fast again.” His voice came out in urgency, making the girl scoot closer with a sense of urgency. He knew she was enjoying this…
So much for innocence…
“My skin crawled as the sense of foreboding climbed on it like thousands of spiders.”
She gasped, shivering. “How gross! Do you know what that really feels like?” she asked.
“Of course, girl. Now though, I do it willingly.” Of course, it was a lie. He did have a pet spider, but it was only the one. The thought of thousands of them crawling about his skin did seem like an interesting night though…
She brought a hand to her face, her eyes so round he was surprised they wouldn’t fall out!
“That’s when I was kidnapped.” His voice darkened, the play he’d displayed prior now sucked out, snuffed like a candle’s flame. “I was taken into the dark, down into the sewers. I could smell the s**t and the piss. It stung my eyes and made me gag, yet that was the least of my concern. I would have gladly swam away, s**t stained and foul , but he had me good. My magic a loss on him as he bound me with his own.”
The girl winced at each curse, yet she didn’t tell him he’d been rude, and he certainly was never one to change who he was for the likes of “presentation.” He enjoyed the lime light, and it seemed a bit of vulgarity went a long way for him.
“He bound me in his shadow magic, against the wall, deciding to slice at my skin with his teeth, his nails, knives…needles. He evaluated the differences in blood flow or how the scars would form. I simply shivered…and cried.” He left a long pause, feeling her scoot closer again, her knee against his own. He had her right where he wanted…
“For hours that witch eater tortured me, breaking my will, my soul, and my body. But what was worst of all…” He pointed to his smile, permanently in place. “He wanted me to smile forever, even after he’d taken my heart. He wanted me broken, but happy about it…” The words spilled like acid from his mouth, the girl seemed to notice as her leg tensed.
“Pretty sight huh? Me and my shining, sparkling teeth. Makes me so handsome doesn’t it? Or perhaps it's my lack of two eyes?”
The girl seemed lost for words. Good.
“I was foolish, and young, and now I’m stronger. He made me see the world in ways I never thought I could. It’s all so simple now…yet you’re too foolish, just like the rest.”
“Excuse me-”
“Hush, girl. I’m not finished. You wanted the story…you get it.” That silenced her, much like a blade to the throat, only it was cleaner and she’d go home to her bed tonight…
“He was going to take my heart when she found me.” He took a long drag on his cigarette. “Laughing and smiling, like a ******** baby with a new toy. Her scythe came down on his face, bursting out his eye… his goo and blood splattering me. But it didn't stop there. Her weapon accidentally came into my own face, mutilating my eye. I’m sure I was shrieking then, but not in fear. It all made so much sense… You forgive the faults of humans, you forgive the misfortune and trespasses, but you don’t forgive this. A witch’s heart is like a soul, and only demons steal souls, don’t they girl?”
She nodded, still sucked into his words.
“You kill demons for stealing souls, you kill witch eaters for eating hearts. Simple, yes?”
She looked confused for a second. He rolled his eyes.
“Best be running home now, girl.” He said standing up, feeling his wounds burn and ache with each move, yet it wasn’t a mocking feeling anymore. He’d never felt more alive. He could withstand a beating each and every day, because he withstood that one, all those years ago. He’d stand it for the likes of foolish girls who just wanted a scary story… He’d stand it for the boys who broke her heart and the ones who she broke theirs. Simple. If only everyone could face such mutilation.
When she didn’t move, his eyes looked down at her, blank to her, but there was so much more going on. He lunged at her, shouting, “Or you’ll be next!”
She ran like a whimpering dog back to her pack. Mischa laughed, it was cold and icy and void of any true happiness, yet it was a laugh all the same.
“I think…I feel better now…” he said, tossing his cigarette to the ground and snuffing it out. Tomorrow was the anniversary of the day he’d once hated, but now he loved…
And he’d continue to remind any fool just how happy he was…
You understand that if you are a new(ish) player, if you aren't active in rp or thread with the character you win for the first 3 months you can lose it? Yes
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Lilium Hallow generated a random number between
1 and 10 ...
10!
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Posted: Sun Jun 10, 2012 1:29 pm
Trixsy 1 - 5
Infinite Nebulae 6 - 10
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