Name: Darius
Full (real) Name: Darius Gordock
Age: 68
Appearance:
Personality: Kind Hearted
Alignment: Chaotic Good
Morality: Serves Mainly the God of Magic, being 150 years old and a master Sorcerer, growing up in with his father who was also a Sorcerer, he was raised to follow the God of Magic, for without him there would be No reason for there to be Magic and Mystical properties in the world, no Questions, No Knowledge. Just Emptyness
Likes: Knowledge, Questions, Books and Scrolls
Dislikes: Ignorance
Secrets: is actually 150 years old, only appears to look 68
Companion (Optional): Helena Mavilia - His Apprentice
Outfit:Seen in his image

Name: Meeod

Titles: "Dreamer In Paradise" "Saint of The Faithless" "Nightmare of Mind and Mana"

True name: Reflection of The Moon

Inspiration: A feeling of peace and melancholy. A motherly need to protect. The viewpoint of something not human.

Appearance: Meeod reveals herself to both man and god with a singular form. She appears as a humanoid body draped in heavy blue robes, falling to the floor, draping over arm and hand, with a large hood concealing the head. Numerous thin chains of silver hang from various parts of the body. Connected to them are many different baubles and small crystals. The face is concealed by a stone-like mask, perfectly smooth and curved. The greater symbol of the soul is cut out of the mask. Looking through the holes in the mask, one would only see darkness. Under the sleeves and skirt of the robe are slender arms and legs wrapped tightly and completely in cloth. The body is human-sized. Tall, but not unnaturally so.

Symbols: The greater symbol of the soul consists five circles positioned together to shape a semi-circle. A crescent sits underneath, combined with the fives circles to create a ring. In the center of the ring is a large tear drop.

The minor symbol of the soul is a circle with a long line cutting vertically through it, and a shorter line cutting horizontally through it.

Portfolio: Repose Domain; Souls Sub-Domain

Alignment: Chaotic Evil

Servitors:
Fragments of Self:
The servants of Meeod are not beings unto themselves. They are intangible, without form, and only exist to those who listen to their promise of a paradise beyond reality. It is these whispers that curry favour to the goddess of the soul, speaking of a true freedom, of her name, that they only need listen, and not lay praise and revelry on those who seek to bind their existence. These fragments have no mind of their own, they are merely extensions of their creators will.

Self Made Manifest:
Meeod's hatred of the gods is great. To see those who live upon the world subjected to their will is sometimes too much for her. Yet, the gods are forbidden from directly interacting with the mortal world, so she cannot save them from their folly. In these moments, Meeod abuses the binding contract with the Creator to force her will upon the world. The Fragments of Self whom rest within the minds of those mortals who have seen the way are forced into the material world through those who reach for true paradise. Though she cannot set foot upon the world herself, these servants, extensions of her will, can.

These manifested fragments know no true form, though all are horrifying to behold. Rare though they are, these beings are great in their power, as is their detrimental effects on the world and those around it, for they are not beings of a material nature.

Weapon: A long, straight sword of silver. The minor symbol of the soul is etched repeatedly along the length of the flat blade. The handle and guard are of a simple, elegant design.

All beings are of the soul, gods and mortals alike, and all souls are of her domain. Meeod's love for the mortal soul is great, and they will enjoy a true paradise of eternal peace. Those gods that meet their end find their way to the goddess of the soul as well, and in the infinite power of her domain, she purges them from existence. It is these husks, these simple remains of godly souls that were used in creation of this blade that ferries souls to paradise.

Familiar: Meeod does not assume domain over any creature of the world.

Followers: Those that pay respect to the goddess of the soul are varied individuals from across the entire world. Meeod loves all mortals, and does not discriminate against those who reciprocate. She asks little of those who worship her, not to conform to any specific way of thinking, not to act in this way or that. These mortals live life as they please with only two edicts. Do not worship or support any other god. Do not practice any form of magic.

As Meeod is a relative newcomer to the world of mortals, her following is both less in number than those of most other gods, as well as being considerably less established and recognized. The latter being seen more as a positive, as though she asks little, her followers are known to still honour her wishes, actively working against the myriad religions of the world, and as they are best known, for hunting those who would act against the best intentions of their goddess by the use of magic.

Bio: When the Creator willed reality into existence, so too were made the gods. From the moment they were freed unto this vast expanse of existence, they spoke and bickered of life, and the means to bring it upon the world of their choosing. Meeod was not among these gods. She chose instead to remain by herself, separated from the gods and their project, and slept the time away. Beyond the reality that was made for them, she dreamed of a paradise, a pure existence beyond the flaws of the body and the mind. Beyond feeling and emotion. There she remained, peaceful.

At some point during her long rest, she became aware that this paradise did not exist solely for her. Others now existed in this peace. They could not be seen nor heard, but they were there, dreaming along side her. More came, over time. She accepted them, as who should not be part of this pure existence? Meeod could see that these beings were at peace, and as such, so was she.

A time came though when she would awake from her sleep. She did not wish to be woken, but she was, disturbed from her eternal rest. It was the world that the gods fawned over endlessly that caught her attention. Wars ravaged its surface, and the great battles of man and god echoed through all of existence. This was not what her eyes beheld however. What Meeod saw was the answer to the single question that she had held since her creation. She saw what those countless beings that she tended to and held precious truly were. She saw the souls of mortals, suffering under the Clash of Gods.

Meeod wept at what she saw. These souls that she only wished to be at peace, shackled to the will of the gods, made to fight out their petty grievances. Sorrow turned to rage, that the gods could treat them so poorly, that they could willingly allow them to suffer. Her fury burned with great intensity, but to little avail. She was so disconnected from the world she watched burn, that she could do little but watch as her will crept slowly towards.

The war was over by the time she herself had reached the world of mortals. The Creator had seen to the end of it by the time she had arrived, and it was the Creator that prevented her from setting herself upon the tired and worn down gods that she had grown to hate ever so much. As Meeod had not taken part in the travesty that led the world to waste, the Creator did not punish her. However, she, like all other gods, was still forbidden from directly interacting with the mortal world. In recognition to the love seen inside of her towards the mortals of the world, she was also granted allowance to the realm of Heaven, albeit in a limit manner as the Creator took note of her anger towards the gods.

In the modern day, Meeod's fury has simmered considerably. Her opinion remains the same, and if given the chance, would see the gods dead and gone. Now though, that anger is tempered by rational thought. While what she and others consider rational may be up to debate, she is not so far gone as to wildly attack any god she may come across. Now she directs her actions to the mortal world, where she seeks to uplift the mortal beings from the grip of the gods. She only wishes for mortals to exist peacefully, unfortunately the body and mind, flawed as they are, complicate such a simple goal.

Space for rent

Sources of Inspiration:


Name: Dyleon of the Crimson Lance.

Also known as: The Bloody Butcher, Redwulf, The Exile

Full (real) Name: Dyleon Flannigan

Age: 37

Appearance(s):







Personality: Pugnacious and Vicious, animalistic even, Dyleon is considered barbaric and brutal by society. Perhaps this is partly due to his feral-esque werewolf form in which he tears others apart with tooth and nail, ripping limbs off and gorging upon the still living victims earning him his noms-de- guerre. On the battlefield he impales and eviscerates with gory and yet artistic precision. His enemies find his methods of combat disturbingly poetic, beautiful in his human form with his calm and collected appearance betraying the madness of a murderer.

While it is true few have survived long enough to hear him speak his thoughts, Dyleon is a soul so steeped in blood that he believes nothing can regain his lost honor. Thus in acceptance of his fall from Heaven’s grace, does he embrace the carnage and wades through rivers of blood as entire villages are slaughtered in the name of his Goddess. His devotion to her is absolute, giving everything for her and to her, killing in her name so that his life has purpose and meaning beyond the sea of blood left in his wake. This fanatical devotion is what makes him driven, consumed by an unquenchable thirst for blood and battle for his Goddess. Dyleon has given her everything: body, mind and soul. No mortal chains could bind him, no mortal reasoning could persuade him not to kill. Only his Goddess commands him, all others must bleed.

Alignment: Formerly Hal-Reftar. Now Sekaulla.

Morality: There is good and evil, but such concepts are laughable. There is only Honor and it is found in Blood, there is only Devotion and it is found in Sekaulla. Her voice is your beating heart, her form flows through your body. There is a beauty in a bloodbath, and the true artists are the warriors who with their weapons of war paint life and death.

Likes: Blood, bloodshed, conflict, combat, strife, warfare, battle, disembowelment, impalement, dismemberment, bifurcation, gore, decapitation, and exsanguination.

Dislikes: Weakness, cowardice, impotence.

Secrets: His still-beating heart has been torn out from his chest and surrendered to Sekaulla. Thus without a heart of his own, he requires the fresh blood of others to survive. An infusion of blood to replace his own every few hours. A test of true devotion to his Goddess as he sees it, although it does make him an excellent tool for her.

Companion:



Other: While he has earned his gruesome reputation by killing hundreds with his bare hands whether as a human or werewolf, Dyleon is a practitioner of Blood Magic. He may increase his own physical abilities by channeling the blood to serve him, as he absorbs the blood of others by his skin and would seem to sweat blood from his skin in the heat of battle. Old blood is removed while a fresh infusion is drawn from the fallen or wounded. Wounds from his spear are said to never fully heal as the blood cannot clot while being drawn into Dyleon, and that the spear itself drinks the blood from the wounds it makes, for this reason it is called the Lancet.