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role model Drunk With Odd Memory, High On Knowledge
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Helo Wonderlust King
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1 day ago
》B a s i c s
Full name: Elias Jonas Shepard
Age: 28
Date of Birth: 11/23/92
Gender: Male
Occupation: Bartender
Where are you from?: Georgia
》A p p e a r a n c e
Height:5'11
Weight: 160lbs
Hair Color: Brown
Hair Length: Short
Skin Color: Tanned
Eye Color: Blue
Tattoos, Piercings, etc skin markings: A cross tattoo on his right bicep from his time as with The Holy Saviors. He wears a large cross around his neck and a Roman collar although he clearly isn’t a priest.
》R e l a t i o n s h i p s
Sexuality: Straight
Relationship Status: Single
Any pre-determined friends?: None
Siblings' Status: Only child
Parents' Status: Alive but estranged
Pets: None
How open is your character to friends from 1 to 10?: 8
How open is your character to romance from 1 to 10?: 5
》I n t e r e s t s
Likes:
✡ A hot meal enjoyed with good company
✡ Music that really has something to say
✡ Smoking a cigarette on a quiet night while looking at the stars
Dislikes:
✡ Killing, even when it must be done
✡ The indoctrination of the young and otherwise ill-informed
✡ Hate, and what it does to a person, rotting them from the inside out
Hobbies:
✡ Conversing with strangers
✡ Drinking
✡ Searching for a meaning in a chaotic world
Skills:
✡ Combat, several years training and hunting, and even more years hunting animals have given him decent skills with your standard variety of weapons. He’s no longer fond of firearms and the only one he carries on him, a handgun, is his last resort if it comes down to a kill or be killed situation.
✡ Quick reflexes, a must have for anyone who goes looking for trouble, but he’s not exactly set for endurance, smoking since thirteen will leave you with shit lungs after all.
✡ His ability to relate to and empathize with others, he listens well, seeking to truly understand those he talks to. He keeps an open mind, tries to learn from others and allow them to learn from his mistakes, and he’d rather talk than fight any day of the week.
》P e r s o n a l i t y
Eli’s personality has gone through radical changes in the past few years. A rebirth of sorts, and he emerged from the shell of an angry and hateful young man as someone who seeks to better understand the world and its people. He has a deep respect for things he took for granted, and the thing he respects the most is life. He his personality is still, in many ways, evolving, having spent much less time away from the cult known as The Holy Saviors than he did as one of its most loyal members. He is driven to become a better person by his guilt and shame of his former self, fiercely determined to put as much good into the world before his number’s up. All that’s left of his rage is directed at no one but himself, for the things he did and the mistakes he made. It’s the last piece of his former self that he can’t let go, because he knows the things he did, are unforgivable.
Outwardly Eli is kind and friendly, willing to help others and as generous as he can afford to be. He strives to stay open to new experiences and anything that can expand his world view and understanding, but he is slow to fully trust. His time in a cult has made him well aware how easy it really is to manipulate and deceive. If the road to hell is truly paved with good intentions then he knows he must be careful where his intentions lead him. For someone who gets such joy from meeting new people; listening to the stories they have to tell and experiences they have to share, he has trouble maintaining friendships. Partially because of his difficulties with trust and his tendency to move around a lot, but mostly due to his self-destructive behaviors and his belief that he doesn’t deserve real happiness.
The majority of what many people might mistake for courage comes from his self-destructive tendencies. Other lives are worth more than his, a grizzly fate is what he believes he deserves and to die in another’s place would bring him peace. Eli is neither closed off or guarded about his past, more than willing to share his past mistakes with those who push for details. If he can dissuade others from going down the same road, it’s more than worth sharing what they would learn in time anyhow. When he was young his faith in things was incredibly strong, but he lost that. If there exists a higher power, well the things he’s seen in this world do not make such a God worthy of worship. He holds nothing aside from life, and simple pleasures, as sacred anymore. The world is a dark and cruel place so he does what he can to feed the light.
》H i s t o r y
“If you’re looking for a tragic backstory to explain the things I’ve done, you won’t find one here. My choices, and mistakes, were all of my own doing. I laid down with dogs and now I’m covered in fleas.”
Raised by a pair of devote Catholics; his father a real fire and brimstone type preacher type, and his mother a cook at a run-down old dinner. He didn’t have much growing up but he had food and shelter and if you asked him, he’d say there are plenty who had a worse start than he. His father was a fan of harsh discipline and Eli was a wild child who grew up having to make his own fun. In essence, he got well acquainted with his father’s belt. When he was you his parents forced him into every church related activity they could. They were really hoping the whole ‘honor thy father and thy mother’ stuff would kick in but what really stuck was all the stuff about evil and righteous fury. His father’s church was very old school, similar in a lot of ways to the Holy Saviors. As a kid, and especially as a teen, Eli was full of rage. There was something comforting about an entire group of people, a whole congregation, who all knew they were better, and to be filled with righteous fury at those who were deemed wicked.
Eli and his father never got along, and at thirteen he left home and never went back. He bounced around through various towns, living in churches and homeless shelters, searching for something even though he wasn’t entirely sure what he was looking for. Eventually he ended up in Ember Grove, and met an incredibly enigmatic young priest, Father Xavier. From the moment they crossed paths Eli idolized the young preacher. He was passionate, so completely sure of every word he spoke, and drew lost souls to him like a righteous flame. The thing about being in a cult is you can’t see it until it’s too late, and once you’ve gone all in you become trapped. Eli devoted his time to doing nothing but serving The Holy Saviors. He helped build that group into what it is today, he recruited, he studied, and eventually he hunted and killed for them too. It wasn’t all hunting and murdering witches though, other members helped him to find what he thought was his way. They studied with him, helped him get his GED, they became like family to him. It wasn’t hard to kill when he thought he was doing Gods work and he was so enraptured by Father Xavier that the preacher’s truth was the only thing he could see.
Eli devoted a large part of his free time to the study of scripture with Father Xavier, becoming a part of his inner most circle. He planned to go to seminary school, become a priest as well, and to help lead alongside his mentor. He took classes at the university in Ember Grove, majoring in philosophy and while he started towards seminary school, he never took his vows. Things changed when he and some others were sent after a coven. Except instead of a coven they found a family. Killing adults weas one thing, but to slaughter children, even witch children, was a horror he had not expected. Doubt set in. How could he be on a righteous path if this is where it led, watching a man who he thought spoke for God, gun down a child. He did everything he could to convince himself it was justified, and thought of leaving the behind the only place that had truly felt like a home was terrifying.
Somehow, he found the strength to draw a line when it came to what he could be asked to do. He no longer found himself worthy of priesthood, if this was what God demanded then he longer wished to submit, and if it wasn’t then he was certainly no righteous man. He left Ember Grove, leaving behind those he thought of as family, a place that welcomed him with acceptance, and every deeply ingrained belief he held about the world. He tried to see more of the world than the small corner he knew and tried to learn more about the creatures he hunted. The painful truth became evident, he found no evil in the majority of witches, at least none that did not exist in the average person. Hunting down vampires and werewolves proved just as complex. There was no easy way to tell the difference between good and evil in the world. So, for a time he gave it all up, even faith itself. Eli believed in nothing, he resigned himself to drink himself to death and ignore every ugly truth about the world.
As hard as he tried to ignore it, he saw evidence of people being slaughtered by creatures and creatures whose deaths were caused by hunters. Guilt of being nothing more than a bystander to the bloodshed he’d once been such a willing participant in, set in and that guilt ate at him. He couldn’t do nothing, and there was no going back to what he’d been before, and so Eli became something new. He knew that his first step had be returning to Ember Grove, the place where he had done the most damage, a place where creatures of all kinds were drawn. The Roman collar that hangs heavy around his neck serves as his reminder, of all things he won’t do, the terrible mistakes he’s made, and of his new calling, a promise to do what he can to preserve life. This is his form of atonement though he knows that there is no grand redemption from his crimes. If there is a soul, he knows his is far too tarnished to be clean again. All he can do now is put as much good back into the world to offset some of the evil he put into it.
Now Eli hunts by his own rules, he can no longer see the world in black and white, there’s too much gray everywhere, and he knows it’s not always as clear as creatures bad, people good. He’s encountered far too many sacks of shit who call themselves people and a good number of supernaturals who don’t even seem capable of doing the things he’s done. So, he only goes in for the kill when he’s sure, sure that the thing he’s hunting is killing. Being a vigilante is not as cracked up as he once thought it would be, but he can’t go back now, can’t know what’s out there and do nothing. However, there’s plenty of days though, were he questions if doing something is just as bad. Even with the rules he set up for himself, only killing things he knows are dangerous, it still eats at him. How can judge he monsters when he’s a monster himself?
》G r o u p
Unaffiliated and while he’s willing to work with others, Eli isn’t going to let anyone command him to kill ever again.
》P r e f e r r e d W e a p on (s)
A Barretta 9mm handgun serves as his last resort and he prefers it in its holster than in his hand. He has a collection of UV, silver, and regular bullets. He also carries with him a powerful UV flashlight, his vampire deterrent knowing they can get pretty hungry at times, as well as silver coated brass knuckles in his pocket for frisky werewolves. When actively hunting something across his back he carries a combat machete.
》C o m b a t S k i l l s
✡ He does okay in a fist fight but is by no means a brawler. He’s quick and scrappy, relying on improvising and ending things quickly.
✡ Tenacity, he doesn’t give up, and fights without any fear of death.
✡ When it comes down to it, Eli is a good shot, and he doesn’t scare easily.
》W e a k n e s s e s
✡ Smoking habit’s done a lot to lessen his endurance.
✡ Not much in the way of brute strength when compared to supernaturals and even other hunters.
✡ Extreme reluctance to kill.
》B a s i c s
Full name: Celestina Laplace
Age: Looks to be in her mid twenties.
Gender: Female
Age: Looks to be in her mid twenties.
Gender: Female
》A p p e a r a n c e
Height: 5’3”
Weight: 100 lbs
Hair Color: Dirty Blonde
Hair Length: Long
Skin Color: White
Eye Color: Blue
Detail your werewolf form: Despite being a werewolf, Celestina doesn't actually turn into one all that often. I wonder what she'd look like if she did...[1]
Weight: 100 lbs
Hair Color: Dirty Blonde
Hair Length: Long
Skin Color: White
Eye Color: Blue
Detail your werewolf form: Despite being a werewolf, Celestina doesn't actually turn into one all that often. I wonder what she'd look like if she did...[1]
[1]. She may not ever. If a time ever comes where she transforms, I'll add a description and likely include it in that post as well.
》R e l a t i o n s h i p s
Sexuality: Bisexual
Relationship Status: Probably open
Any pre-determined friends?: Sorrel Jager. They met in a bar.
How open is your character to friends from 1 to 10?: 10
How open is your character to romance from 1 to 10?: 10
Relationship Status: Probably open
Any pre-determined friends?: Sorrel Jager. They met in a bar.
How open is your character to friends from 1 to 10?: 10
How open is your character to romance from 1 to 10?: 10
》I n t e r e s t s
Likes:
Dislikes:
Hobbies:
Skills:
✡Gossip
✡Sleeping
✡Old radio shows
✡Sleeping
✡Old radio shows
Dislikes:
✡Discussing her age
✡Stoicism
✡Loud noises
✡Stoicism
✡Loud noises
Hobbies:
✡Frequenting bars
✡Listening to radio
✡Listening to stories
✡Listening to radio
✡Listening to stories
Skills:
✡Observant
✡Genius
✡Charismatic?
✡Genius
✡Charismatic?
》P e r s o n a l i t y
To her credit, Celestina is generally harmless. Between an endless tirade of wordplay and puns, hollow threats and promises, and an aptitude for inflicting irritation seen once every hundred years, it’s important to remember that she probably hasn’t hurt anyone in Ember Grove. As well, most veteran’s of ember grove would agree that they’ve never even seen her use her supernatural abilities.
More dangerous than any other aspect of Celestina’s person, perhaps, is her acquaintance with the werewolf Sorrel. When quarreling with any wolf of Vollmund Kinder, Sorrel Jager is certainly a far greater concern than Celestina; though, when considering how those quarrels may begin, Celestina could be the more likely culprit.
Though it might just be easier to call her simpleminded, Celestina is just far too clever to dismiss. If she was on the internet, one may describe her personality as the culmination of a troll -- but her antics occur in real life, and calling her a troll might actually make her dangerous. It’s really like she’s trying to upset any victims having the poor fortune to engage her in a conversation.
For starters, Celestina's propensity for speaking in puns is nothing short of disgusting in it’s own right; yet she often uses them to make light of serious matters. If one were to take a histogram of all the phrases that left her mouth, it is quite likely that they would find a majority had been in contribution to some play on words.
Even then, if her comedian-esque demeanor fails to perturb, she is equally capable of saying outright dangerous things in their place. Of course, she wouldn’t go so far as to break the law, but Celestina wouldn’t bat an eye at claiming to have murdered someone all in the name of getting a reaction. And if the dangerous didn’t work, she has no aversion to more conventional ways of causing fluster.
One would expect, with all this together, wouldn’t Celestina have garnered her share of infamy? Wrong. Celestina is genuinely well regarded by her peers, especially those who are involved with the supernatural. Witches, vampires, and her kinsfolk flock to herself, in spite of Celestina never actually performing supernatural feats. Especially in spite of her utterly human conduct, Celestina has even come under hunter scrutiny resulting solely from her connections.
This all begs the question, why?
Who kṉ̷̀o̸̼͝w̴̜̚s.
》An Old Memory
Through a window on one side of the room billowed the last sunshine of the afternoon, illuminating the pasty mint colored room and the stainless white within. In the corner, propped elegantly on a stainless steel stool, was an analog radio humming lightly with static. Voices would occasionally burst forth, muddled with electric interference and describing the news of the day. Directly opposite the window was a painted blue door, and directly next to that was a cheap leather chair. In the middle of the room was a sickeningly white bed, highlighted with the gray of it’s metal frame jutting like extrusions. A second chair, much similar in appearance to the first, was fit snugly between the wall and what appeared to be a nightstand.
In that chair by the night stand was a young woman no older than her teens topped with a mop of dirty blonde hair, and in the sickeningly white bed was a grizzly old man. Despite his bedridden state, the man was rather animated; he prattled on with the woman, and she listened with a smile.
“...And y’know what she said to me, that lass? She told me, ‘five more minutes’. After I had already given her an hour…”
Though his voice was strained, for some hours he spoke, sharing countless stories, and not once did her smile leave her face. But with the darkening of the sky, the man became more subdued. Eventually his words began to slur, and seemingly unbeknownst to himself, he had slipped asleep. Afterwards, the woman left.
This was a daily ritual. The woman would arrive in the afternoon, when dusk crept into the sky, and take her seat by the nightstand. The man would stir as she entered, and once he awoke, gleefully engaged in a tirade of tales. They were both happy with this arrangement.
“...And I just knew it. I knew for a fact that something was on her mind. When she finally told me everything, I just couldn’t believe it…”
As the days went by, the man’s stories grew less coherent. But through it all, there was a topic that always came up: his daughter. Day in, day out, no matter how senselessly words left his mouth, he continued to gleefully sing his daughter’s praises. And no matter how incoherent he became, the woman listened with a smile.
“...She came home late again. Of course I had to confront her, what else was I to do? A young lady of her age, out and about past her curfew… It was dangerous! And there she was again, with the same childish excuses. Y’know, werewolf did this, vampire did that, witch cast a spell and she just escaped with her life. Silly things like that. And I knew she was taking me for a fool, but when I saw how excitedly she described these…”
…
“...And of course, when she came home all bruised and battered, it was like... I had already loaded my remington before her second step through the door. In that moment, whoa, it was like hell had just opened up my front door, and I was ready to pay it forward. But then she just smiled, and once again spun me some tale…”
…
It was one fateful evening, after he had finished detailing one of his beloved daughters' exploits, that he stopped talking for but a moment. He turned to the woman, with a lucidity believed to have been lost several weeks prior, and for the first time asked her a question.
“Hey. Am I crazy to think she was telling the truth… she was telling… was…”
But before the woman could even respond, the grizzly man found himself mulling over his words.
“...was…
Hey. Did… is… she…
Something... bad happened?”
Hey. Did… is… she…
Something... bad happened?”
The woman stood up and walked to the foot of the bed, it was the first break from acting as the audience. This action almost seemed to answer the man, and he stirred from his bedplace.
“...I…”
The man began to grow restless, and struggled to prop himself up. For the first time, he seemed to notice a set of IV’s and other strange metallic devices around him. Anxiety seeped onto his face, and his breathing became ragged.
“I… When did it…
She was…
I need to go...”
She was…
I need to go...”
At the front of the room, the woman’s face could no longer be seen.
“I need to… She… She was… I… I need to help…”
...
“You need to… She… needs my help...
She needs my help.
She…
You… You! What did you… what did...”
She needs my help.
She…
You… You! What did you… what did...”
And then he grew quiet, the newfound silence soon pierced as a sound blared from an entangled device. Before long, the pasty mint room was filled with white clad figures, crowding him with urgency. Somewhere, in the background of this soundscape, a radio buzzed as the newscasters discussed rising tensions with the USSR.
Amidst the chaos, the woman stole one last peek at the limp form on the bed. Even now, watching as the man lay peacefully among the sickeningly white figures surrounding, her smile failed to leave her face. Finally, waiting until the room settled, this woman stepped away from the foot of the bed.
...
“...I guess I really am the worst, huh.”
This was the last of their meetings.
》P a c k
Vollmund Kinder. Sorrel Jager is the Alpha.
》P u r e b l o o d?
Pureblood.
GM
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4x Like
》B a s i c s
Full name: Marius Pierce Dupont
Age: 117, though appears 25
Date of Birth: February 12th, 1903
Gender: Male
Where are you from?:Chicago, Illinois
》A p p e a r a n c e
Height: 5’11
Weight: 163 lbs
Hair Color: Dirty blonde
Hair Length: Shoulder length
Skin Color: Pale
Eye Color: Pale green
Tattoos, Piercings, etc skin markings:
Ear pierced
》R e l a t i o n s h i p s
Sexuality: Bisexual
Relationship Status: In a relationship with Millie
Any pre-determined friends?: Open to discuss things
Siblings' Status: None
Parents' Status: Mother is deceased, never knew his father though he assumes he’s deceased.
Pets: Only Millie
How open is your character to friends from 1 to 10?: 5
How open is your character to romance from 1 to 10?: 9
》I n t e r e s t s
Likes:
✡ Millie
✡ Vampires
✡ Blood
✡ Power
✡ Reading
✡ Pain
Dislikes:
✡ Anyone who would harm Millie
✡ Werewolves
✡ Not being in control of situations
✡ Disloyalty
✡ Sunlight
✡ Anything that would threaten his happiness
Hobbies:
✡ Smoking
✡ Reading
✡ Making Millie smile
✡ Brawling
✡ Manipulating people
✡ Protecting Millie
Skills:
✡ Firearms
✡ Brawling
✡ Charming
✡ Stealth
✡ Killing
✡ Speedy and rather strong
》P e r s o n a l i t y
Charming. A word that many people like to use, but for Marius it’s a tactic of manipulation. He’s become quite skilled in reading a person and knows how to easily make someone comfortable around him. It comes in handy in the line of work the Sinclair Foundation has him do. He gets close to people, learns their secrets, and then disposes of them shortly after or on rare occasions brings them back to be used however the clan needs.
Beyond the charm you’ll find that he can be incredibly brutal. Torture isn’t something new to him and some may even say that he finds a small hint of enjoyment in it. There’s definitely a sadistic side to him and he normally won’t hesitate if ordered to kill someone. He follows orders and doesn’t often ask questions, playing the role of the loyal henchman rather well. The only exception to this is Millie.
When it comes to the young witch, he would do anything for her. He doesn’t know what it was that caused him to hesitate in following out the order to dispose of her, having disposed of many innocent and beautiful looking women in the past. There was just something about the girl that caused him to go against orders. Now he protects her fiercely and has become rather possessive of her. If anyone were to look at her the wrong way he wouldn’t hesitate to kill them. He’s been completely bewitched by the woman and oddly enough he enjoys it.
》H i s t o r y
Marius was born in 1903 out of wedlock to the daughter of a prominent mob boss in Chicago. His mother was a woman who had a new man on her arm every week and so his father could have quite honestly been anyone. From what he understands, however, the man assumed to be his father was one who lasted the longest with his mother. He was apparently from an allied family, but mysteriously disappeared one day and left his mother to raise Marius on her own. Of course she wasn’t completely alone as the family stuck together and her father would do anything for his precious daughter. So Marius was born into a life of crime.
At a young age his grandfather began using him in family business, starting him out as a little fly on the wall collecting information. People rarely took notice of a child in the room and spoke without thinking. As he reached his teens he became one of their best negotiators and didn’t hesitate in taking care of a problem if it arose. He had a natural charisma to him and seemed to command a room when he walked in. Because of this, his grandfather named him as the successor of the family once he was gone. Unfortunately his grandfather met his demise when Marius was merely 18 years old and the young man now found himself the leader of a large crime ring.
It wasn’t easy gaining the respect of the members of the family, but he soon made his mark when a cousin tried to start a coup and take over. Marius made an example of him in front of the whole family, showing what would happen if anyone dared to question his authority again. The only thing that was left of the cousin afterwards was some fresh ground meat that was subsequently sold to the zoo as food for some of the carnivorous beasts.
When Marius was 25 years old, someone in the family snitched and the FBI busted them in the prime time they were trying to gain control over the gangsters. Marius had been arrested and imprisoned, only to be sentenced to death row. He was led to the electric chair, however little did he know that wasn’t to be his fate. Another mafia family had paid a hefty price for his life, claiming that it was a favor for Marius father, the still mysterious man who’d apparently been watching Marius grow from the shadows. The catch was that he did still have to die, but he was reborn as a vampire. From then on he was indebted to the Sinclair Foundation.
Marius became one of the Sinclair Foundations top killing machines, murdering and kidnapping those they ordered him to. He never questioned anything until the day he kidnapped a young witch from the Coven of Ancients. He helped in torturing and tormenting her, but she never spoke. This was something that impressed him and perhaps that is what began his obsession with her. He soon found himself visiting her daily, bringing her different little trinkets to pass her time while in their custody. Of course he kept this all secret from the others in the clan. It wasn’t until they ordered him to get rid of her that he made the decision to disobey and keep her as a pet. He soon convinced them that she could be useful to them as she could cast magic for them. He assured them that he’d make sure she’d be completely loyal, and loyal she became, though not to the clan but to him.
Now he’s bought a small house and has moved in with Millie, wishing to put some distance between them and the clan in order to protect her. Perhaps his obsession is unnatural, but she is his and he is hers and they’d take on the world together.
 | 》C l a n Sinclair Foundation 》P u r e b l o o d? Bitten in 1928 |
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》B a s i c s
Full name: Vivian Winters, mostly goes by ‘Viv’
Age: 26
Date of Birth: August 19
Gender: Female
Where are you from?: Born in New York city, but moved around often.
Are you aware of the supernatural?: No
》A p p e a r a n c e
Height: 5’6”
Weight: 115lbs
Hair Color: Black
Hair Length: A little past her shoulders
Skin Color: Fair
Eye Color: Light blue
Tattoos, Piercings, etc skin markings: She has several piercings in her ears, and a tattoo of peonies on her left shoulder blade.
》 R e l a t i o n s h i p s
Sexuality: Bisexual
Relationship Status: Single
Any pre-determined friends?: Nope
Siblings' Status: A younger brother, but not very close to him
Parents' Status: Alive but estranged
Pets: None
How open is your character to friends from 1 to 10?: 8
How open is your character to romance from 1 to 10?: 7
》I n t e r e s t s
Likes:
✡ Billiards and darts
✡ Music
✡ Instant gratification
✡ Cigarettes
✡ Sleeping
Dislikes:
✡ Commitment
✡ Sweets/desserts
✡ Authority
✡ Disloyalty
Hobbies:
✡ Playing guitar, preferably electric
✡ Taking walks
✡ Staying in shape, going to the gym
Skills:
✡ Plays guitar pretty well, and drums to a lesser degree
✡ Bartending & mixology - she can perform some neat tricks with a shaker, and concoct delicious alcoholic beverages
✡ Billiards
》P e r s o n a l i t y
Often the first impression people have of Vivian is her playful and carefree personality. She doesn’t anger easily, and is quick to let small infractions go. Most of the time, she easily handles conflict with a mature approach, aided by her calm frame of mind. Her lighthearted nature also marries well with her penchant for mischief and reckless behaviour. If anything, it allows her to act recklessly, since she hardly worries about the consequences of her actions. She prefers acting on her whims or whatever she desires to do at the time.
In friendships, Vivian is fiercely loyal to those that have shown her kindness, and almost protective to a territorial degree. It’s a trait she realizes mimics what her mother was like, much to her chagrin. However, her childhood full of lost friendships have motivated Vivian to try and protect the ones she has now. Though she cares deeply about her friends, she finds it hard to open up to others about herself. Vivian had spent much of her life presenting a crafted image of herself to others - a devil-may-care type of girl - and she didn’t want to admit that this wasn’t real. Behind the layers of apathy that Vivian hid behind, was simply a girl who wanted the approval and attention of her peers.
》H i s t o r y
The defining theme of Vivian’s childhood, if you asked her today, would probably be the lack of stability she experienced as a result of being in a military family. Every year or so, Vivan re-packed her belongings, or whatever it was she even bothered taking out of boxes from the previous move, and had her life shipped off to yet another location with a new batch of people. For as long as she could remember, this was her version of normal. There was no solid place she could call home and no one she could consider a close friend. In general, her childhood was pierced by a broad sense of loneliness.
Making friends was a sore point in Vivian’s life. Due to the nature of how she moved around so much, she had to emotionally invest in new relationships every year and quickly learned not to stay attached for too long. Despite knowing that it would bring herself more pain to grow close with her peers, Vivian still desperately desired to fit in every time she enrolled in a new school. This was perhaps what first ignited her penchant for risky and mischievous behaviour. She wanted attention and approval, and successfully executing dangerous tasks seemed to reward her with both. Consequently, Vivian grew attached to the image she nurtured and presented, as the ‘cool girl’ with no concern for her personal safety if it meant having fun.
At home, life was a little different. Vivian’s father was hardly ever home, but her mother was a strict and overprotective parent who often preached about the dangers that roamed around in society. She never specifically addressed what it was that was so dangerous, but Vivian had always assumed her mother was making some form of biblical reference when she rambled on about evil. Her mother’s fear directly impacted her form of parenting, which Vivian strongly rebelled against. She managed to avoid being homeschooled, but Vivian was expected to come straight home after class everyday, unless she had extracurricular lessons to go to. Certain genres of music and entertainment were straight up forbidden, and the door to her room had been physically removed. There was no privacy, no agency - Vivian felt like she was suffocating under her mother’s oppressive thumb.
Once she entered her teenage years, Vivian took every chance she got to defy the wishes of her mother. Coupled with her strong desire to fit in with her peers, Vivian stereotypically fell into the ‘wrong crowd’. They were in similar situations to hers, and they seemed to be what Vivian wanted to be - free. They stayed out as late as they wanted, roaming city streets at night, drinking and smoking together on grassy fields at local parks. They had little regard for rules, and truly did whatever they desired. Vivian was quickly captivated by these kinds of people and eagerly followed in their footsteps.
With her guitar and a suitcase in hand, Vivian ran away from home just shy of turning 16. Her mother pulled her out of school without her knowledge, and Vivian wanted to take back control of her life. She crashed couch to couch for a while, but eventually found a hostel to move into. The credit card that her parents had paid for was cut off not before long, so she found work cleaning rooms at the hostel, and some less-than-legal side hustles. Living on her own was rough, but despite being robbed and beaten up at some point, Vivian genuinely enjoyed being on her own, away from her controlling mother. Eventually, Vivian decided to move to a safer part of town and started working as a bartender at a local bar.
Vivian first began to play billiards when she got her bartending job. The bar attracted a wide range of patrons, since it provided pool and ping pong tables, and dart boards hung onto the wall. Lots of couples on dates and older folk with their friends and pitchers of beers. Vivian kept herself entertained with these various options, and found out she had a knack for billiards. Every once in a while, she competed in tournaments that the bar held, winning small amounts of money. She never bothered competing in a more public sphere, despite recommendations from others to do so.
Vivian found herself in Ember Grove after she was let go from her most recent bartending position, as the bar was closing down. A friend recommended visiting Ember Grove since they had a bar with billiards tables as well, and she added raving reviews of the nightlife and attractive partygoers. Vivian was certainly intrigued by these points, and found herself working at Alexei’s shortly after.
Something about the town felt...peculiar. Vivian had worked there for a few months, but couldn’t exactly put her finger on it. People seemed to go missing in Ember Grove, or mysteriously and abruptly moved away, contrasting heavily with the town’s amicable facade during the daytime. When her co-worker suddenly disappeared one day, despite looking forward to moving into her new home in New Paeonia, Vivian figured she would try to find out what was going on.
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》B a s i c s
Full name: Yilva Asulf
Age: 29
Date of Birth: April 9th
Gender: Female
Where are you from?: Norway
》A p p e a r a n c e
Height: 1'87m
Weight: 153lbs
Hair Color: Blonde
Hair Length: Long
Skin Color: White
Eye Color: Hazel
Tattoos, Piercings, etc skin markings: Yes, on both of her biceps and thighs.
Detail your werewolf form:
While in her transformed form, Ylva is considered big even for werewolves, despite her young age. Turning into a massive 9ft white werewolf, her size can only be compared to her ferocity. The sheer size, strength and speed she has are worthy of a female born from the Asulf clan from two pure blooded werewolves, who had the old blood running through their veins. While she is still young, it's not known how much she will grow as she gets older, as she is the first and currently the only werewolf from the Asulf clan born from two individuals with equally strong old blood in their veins.
With a tall and athletic build, Ylva is a woman of presence. Standing at 1,87m, she has the body of a Skjaldmær, strong and with defined muscles. Both her biceps and thighs are covered with runic tattoos, depicting ancient protection runes and symbols, according to the tradition of her clan. Despite her strong muscles, her body is still feminine, giving her an exotic, Amazonian beauty.
Her long, blonde hair, which she often keeps in traditional Norse style braids, is often adorned with wooden carved hair beads coupled with a pair of bone carved earrings (made it herself), with a spiral pattern on them. Her penetrating hazel eyes, coupled with her hair, earrings and the piercing on her nose give her a wild, untamed feel to her appearance, which is further reinforced by the tribal runic tattoos on her arms and thighs.
Yilva often prefers to wear light and comfortable clothes that wont get in her way while moving. She is often seen wearing shirts, tops and jeans, normally in a rock/metal style.
》R e l a t i o n s h i p s
Sexuality: Heterosexual
Relationship Status: Single
Any pre-determined friends?: No
Siblings' Status: Single daughter.
Parents' Status: Both dead.
Pets: None
How open is your character to friends from 1 to 10?: 7
How open is your character to romance from 1 to 10?: 7
》I n t e r e s t s
Likes:
✡ Hunting and running wild, both in her human and transformed forms.
✡ Feasting and partying with those whom she consider allies.
✡ Drinking. She can actually hold her alcohol quite well.
✡ Fighting and brawling. Friendly brawls and fights were common in her clan as means to train and exercise.
✡ Raw, fresh meat.
Dislikes:
✡ Being deceived or used.
✡ Hunters (tolerates those who go after vampires or witches, not targetting werewolves)
✡ Vampires
✡ Those who mock the old ways and traditions.
Hobbies:
✡ Hunting, running and exercising.
✡ Music, particularly rock, metal and tribal music. Owns a guitar.
✡ Going to pubs and bars, especially those with live music or that often play rock and metal.
Skills:
✡ Tracking and hunting.
✡ Carving. Her earrings and the hair beads she uses were made by herself.
✡ Fist fighting.
✡ Knows how to clean and prepare an animal carcass and it's hide.
✡ Had to learn how to work as a barista when she moved to Ember Grove. Sometimes plays her guitar on pubs both for a hobby and some money.
》P e r s o n a l i t y
Much like her appearance, Ylva is an intense and fierce woman. With strong opinions, she isn't afraid of getting her hands dirty and isn't the type of woman to lower her head to others. Near those she considers friends or members of her 'pack' she is surprisingly friendly and approachable, enjoying drinking, feasts and thanks to her lycanthrope nature and being raised by such a traditional clan, fighting and hunting. While to others it may appear to be strange, Ylva does not have a particular aversion to killing, even enjoying it to some extent. Still, she never hurts innocent people.
Due to the fact that she was born and raised among a clan of lycanthropes, Ylva is very used to her transformed form and feels very comfortable while on it. Unlike werewolves who were raised in big cities or environment that they might not be able to transform often, Ylva knows her own transformed form very well and despite not having as much experience as some of the more ancient werewolves, her battle experience is definitely higher than her age suggests when compared to a 'city werewolf'.
That said, Ylva can be incredibly intimidating to those she doesn't know due to the fact that she has a lot of wolf traits on her personality, thanks to her strong instincts. Approaching her with an aggressive stance is a quick and easy way to get punched in the face. The best way to interact with Ylva if you're a stranger would be to treat her almost as a wild animal, being especially careful on how you approach her and your body language.
》H i s t o r y
Considered by many to be a fierce and aggressive clan, the Asulf clan is one of the few who, even nowadays, continue to follow the old, ancient traditions of the Lycanthropes such as feasting on the corpses of their enemies and eating their hearts, being seen even as barbaric by modern Lycanthropes.
Despite the dark reputation the Asulf clan has, they are known to be fiercely loyal and honorable, respecting those who respect them and being fearsome allies to those who conquered their trust. Differently from some other clans, they are proud and greatly value their origins as Lycanthropes, transforming themselves incredibly often compared to other clans. Having a history of actively hunting, killing and feasting upon other rampaging werewolves, most evil magic practitioners and vampires, despite the bad reputation, they actually contribute to keep things in order.
Ylva, much like any other member of the Asulf clan was born and raised knowing she was a Lycanthrope and being taught to be proud of that. Born out of Astridr and Gunnarr Asulf, both which had a strong lineage and old blood in their veins. At the time both her father and mother were the Alpha male and female of the Asulf clan. From a small city in Norway, Ylva grew up running in the forests and being taught the old ways by her parents, including how to be proud of her lineage and of being a werewolf.
When Ylva completed 18 years old, her parents announced to the clan that she would become the next Alpha female upon completing her coming of age ceremony, a tradition passed since time imemorial. Despite the reason for that be known for some of the elders, which agreed that Ylva would become an incredibly powerful werewolf in the future due to her strong lineage and the amount of old blood that she had, others from her clan weren't happy with that decision. Having an Alpha that barely had become an adult was unthinkable for them but since the current Alphas did agree with it, no one said a word about it, especially since it was quite clear that despite her young age, Ylva was able to fight seriously with any other werewolf in the clan.
Unfortunately, the dissatisfaction of some of the clan members didn't go unnoticed by the old clan of vampires from Europe who wanted to extend their claws to Norway. Seeking to eliminate the Asulf clan that was definitely a thorn on their side, they used this dissatisfaction to foment infighting and discord among the clan. Using it to their advantage, the vampires waited until the trust between clan members was low and it began to fragment. Two factions began appearing inside the clan. The one that believed and still followed the old ways and the ones who believed that the old ways were obsolete and new traditions should be formed. Allying themselves with the latter one, which now cared more about winning the internal conflict than to keep the clan united, the vampires attacked the rest of the clan.
It was a bloody battle which almost wiped out both sides of the conflict. In the middle of the conflict both of the Alphas died, being overwhelmed by both vampires and werewolves alike. Being the Alphas, they were key targets to be eliminated as their very presence already shifted the tide of the battle. With both of them dead though, Ylva who was the strongest werewolf other than her parents assumed the role of the Alpha. Enraged by the death of her parents and the betrayal of her own clan, she went on rampage, killing vampires and the traitors from her clan. In the end of the conflict, the forest floor was now red with blood. Corpses from both vampires and werewolves made the scenery almost something out of a horror movie. With both sides almost completely annihilated, Ylva saw herself wounded and alone. Her rampage left her exhausted and weak, forcing her to hide in an old tree's hollow trunk until she could get herself up again. Despite the heavy losses on the vampires' side, their objective was completed and now the Asulf clan was no more. The few that remained, either the ones who fled from the battle or survivors hid themselves. With the once proud and powerful clan now fragmented, Ylva saw herself cornered and had no choice but to flee, both from Norway and the vampire clans, seeking her own survival.
Years passed and Ylva saw herself on Ember Grove after following the scent of other werewolves. Knowing that at least she wouldn't be the only werewolf around and that she probably wouldn't be recognized or followed by vampires, she choose to settle on the small town of Ember Grove.
》P a c k
Not anymore. Fears being betrayed by her pack again, reason why she doesn't actively try to get in a pack or start a new one.
》P u r e b l o o d?
Ylva was born a werewolf, from a long lineage of werewolves dating back to the old times and stories about bear and wolf warriors, called the Ulfhednar. While her parents where the Alphas of the clan, they died in the middle of the conflict. Being the second stronger werewolf in the pack after them, she assumed the role of the Alpha. When the battle ended though, she saw herself alone. Fearing being betrayed by her pack again and believing that she was, just like the other elders said, too young and inexperienced to be an Alpha, she decided against trying to rejoin the Asulf clan again or make a pack of her own and instead, fled from Norway.
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》B a s i c s
Full name: Scott Liddell
Age: 21
Date of Birth: 9/02/1999
Gender: Male
Where are you from?: Unknown
》A p p e a r a n c e
Height: 6’1”
Weight: 185 lb
Hair Color: Black
Hair Length: Short
Skin Color: Caucasian
Eye Color: Brown/Hazel
Tattoos, Piercings, etc skin markings: A lot.
Detail your werewolf form:
》R e l a t i o n s h i p s
Sexuality: heterosexual and Furrsexual
Relationship Status: Single and ready to mingle
Any pre-determined friends?:None yet
Siblings' Status: Unknown to Scott
Parents' Status: Biological Mother died, Father unknown
Pets: Lizard named Keanu
How open is your character to friends from 1 to 10?: 7
How open is your character to romance from 1 to 10?: 10
》I n t e r e s t s
Likes:
✇ Wolves
✇ The Dump
✇ Anime
✇ Delectable Females
Dislikes:
✇ Certain Legumes
✇ Normies
✇ Scalies and Bronies, ew no.
Hobbies:
✇ Reading furfics
✇ Crocheting
✇ Longboarding
✇ On Tinder half the time (Please swipe right)
Skills:
✇ Musical prodigy
✇ Coding (Webmaster for National Furry Fan Website™)
✇ Slide Whistle While Juggling
》P e r s o n a l i t y
✇ Easy to talk to, but is very snarky and sarcastic
✇ Narcissistic and conceited; he’s selfish
✇ Very shy when it comes to “delectable females”
✇ Has a dark past, so he is very angsty
✇ He is not super friendly nor kind
✇ Scott is very mellow and slow to anger; he’s very patient
✇ During a crisis, he’s rational and thinks before he leaps
✇ He is brave when it comes to self preservation but will not go to far lengths for the sake of others
✇ Slightly above average intelligence, but he refers to himself as a genius often
✇ His charisma is not great
✇ He is awkward and has no sense of humor
》H i s t o r y
The name Scott was given by his first foster parents. They didn’t know anything about him; he had no name, no family, and no life. He was just a crying child left alone in a dumpster outside a bar with only a locket with the name Liddell printed on it with a picture of a ((*vintage*)) scantily dressed woman in it and a bloody coat hanger. Growing up in the foster care system was rough on Scott. He was a troubled kid and had a hard time making friends and mainly hung around the band kids who were just as socially inept. He was never comfortable in his own skin, and felt like an outcast, even his own mother didn't want him. The only thing he excelled at in school was coding and music, it was the one of the few things he truly had, so he became hyper focused on those endeavors.
There was this one time at band camp and it had a major impact on his life. He met a guy named Steve. Steve played the trumpet and was also an orphan. Scott and Steve got really close to each other at the time they spent at camp; they were almost inseparable. They used to stay up all night and sneak to each other’s bunk to play ToonTown after they called lights out.
They’ve become so obsessed with the game that it led them to the magical world of the Furry fandom. They became so infatuated with the idea of not being stuck in the skin of their birthright and wanted to create their own Fursona™. It got to the point that in arts and craft class they started to make wolf heads out of paper mache and started to experiment with the idea. There were many nights that were spent creating the crude fursuits together. They had already been socially awkward as is, and then wearing furry ears and tails made out of felt and old, torn up clothing made things worse. He knew that at least he wasn't alone. Unfortunately, this was the last summer Steve would attend band camp, as he would be adopted coming the fall season. Scott was happy for him, but was also deeply sad from the news. It seems like there they wouldn't be able to see each other anymore; it crushed him. After band camp was over, Scott and Steve became close penpals for a couple of months. But the most peculiar thing was that after months of keeping up with penpals almost everyday, Steve had just disappeared. Out of nowhere. Nowhere to be found! Scott tried looking through yellow pages of every state of every city and called household from household only to find himself back to square one with no leads. So for his remaining young adult years, he's been mainly focusing on coding and the Furry fandom. So much that he is the main coder for National Furry Fan Website™ and travels to every Furry convention in the country in hopes to find Steve. But one long and sweaty night of reading Furry Smut, Scott hears a notification ding (which to be honest hasn't heard that sound since he’s last talked to Steve). “U up?” Scott read in the middle of an upward climb of joy. He screamed hearing the sound. He frantically looks for anything to clean himself up, which he then wiped onto his 200 dollar tail (made from actual wild wolf fur, he bought with bitcoin) out of desperation and excitement to finally hear from Steve. “...S-St- STEVE?!?! ;( *whimpers in dog and looks up to you*”) Scott typed out. “I have a lot to explain. I know. But if I mean alot to you, you’ll meet me at the next upcoming furry convention in Ember Grove.”
After spending almost half his life without his only best friend he's ever had, he wanted to make sure that he looked the part and make a good second impression. He got out his most prized collectors' Furrcostume that was decorated with glass beads to represent rain drops and fully animatronic and remote controlled headpiece. The fur was an electric purple with a bright rainbow tail. The plan was for them to meet up but things don’t end up quite going to plan.
》P a c k
Becomes werewolf at start of roleplay and joins Vollmund Kinder
》P u r e b l o o d?
No
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》Basics
Name: Nikolaus Trotter
Age: 24
Date of Birth: December 25th
Gender: Male
Where are you from?: Ember Grove
Age: 24
Date of Birth: December 25th
Gender: Male
Where are you from?: Ember Grove
| 》Appearance Height: 6'4 Weight: 210 Hair Color: Dark chestnut brown Hair Length: To his ears Skin Color: White, slight tan Eye Color: Dark gray Tattoos, Piercings, etc skin markings: He has a tattoo sleeve on his right arm and his ears pierced. 》Relationships Sexuality: Heterosexual Relationship Status: Single Any predetermined friends?: Angel, Sean Siblings' Status: N/a Parents' Status: Trotter - his father. Mother is deceased. Pets: He has a parakeet named Hawkeye and a few fish. Open to friends from 1 to 10?: 6 Open to romance from 1 to 10?: 6 | 》Interests Likes: 🔫 Horror movies 🔫 Singing 🔫 Martial arts / Gymnastics 🔫 Soccer 🔫 Animals 🔫 Helping others Dislikes: 🔫 Loud noises 🔫 Operas 🔫 His father 🔫 Being alone 🔫 Lack of empathy Hobbies: 🔫 Soccer 🔫 Practicing gymnastics/martial arts 🔫 Meditating 🔫 Reading 🔫 Nature walks 🔫 TV/Movies Skills: 🔫 Excellent at reading others 🔫 Patience is his virtue 🔫 Charming, able to help people relax and divulge information |
》Personality
With a tough exterior, Nikolaus comes off as brutal. His smile is reserved for those who he deems deserving of it. He could have put the Grinch to shame with his cold and menacing attitude. To put it simply, Nikolaus is serious and also extremely quiet. There are a few hunters who have never heard him speak. Sometimes he can go hours without talking to anyone and be the happiest man alive. His sarcasm rolls off his tongue as dry humor, while his wit is sharper than a whip. Despite his core of steel, a big heart lies buried deep inside. His loyalty is not easily won, but once it is, he will become ride-or-die. His resourcefulness surprises most - but his strongest trait is his bravery. He will seemingly go to any lengths to save those he cares for whilst being responsible. Nikolaus's cunning nature comes naturally as well but only for hunting purposes. His ambition is not too strong, though it's been pushed by his father. He is also arrogant and borderline cocky; it's a show, though, and to make himself laugh. Deep down, he's bashful and awkward when it comes to sincere flattery or affection, something he's never had. There is more than meets the eye with Nikolaus that he doesn't leave on the surface.
》History
Born as the son of decorated Operation Humanity Hunter, Nikolaus's childhood began under a strict regimen and gritty life lessons. He was five when Trotter started "conditioning" his son to become one of the deadliest hunters alive. At adulthood, Niko had become a product of vigorous physical training and supernatural study. To Niko, it was never enough when it came to proving his worth to his father. He wanted to be the best. He needed to be the best. So when his father presented him with the opportunity to undergo experimentation, he took with the impression that he was on the path to being a hero to humans and a monster to those who were not. After experimentation, he noticed that he was considered an "Asset" and had more restrictions. This was all part of the plan, he would tell himself. It was also during this time that he met Angel Beaumont, a fellow asset that couldn't be more opposite to him. She disregarded rules and policy and often found himself having to reign her in, but she was beginning to grow on him. Even change his perspective a bit... No, he was his father's son! He was a Trotter.
With a tough exterior, Nikolaus comes off as brutal. His smile is reserved for those who he deems deserving of it. He could have put the Grinch to shame with his cold and menacing attitude. To put it simply, Nikolaus is serious and also extremely quiet. There are a few hunters who have never heard him speak. Sometimes he can go hours without talking to anyone and be the happiest man alive. His sarcasm rolls off his tongue as dry humor, while his wit is sharper than a whip. Despite his core of steel, a big heart lies buried deep inside. His loyalty is not easily won, but once it is, he will become ride-or-die. His resourcefulness surprises most - but his strongest trait is his bravery. He will seemingly go to any lengths to save those he cares for whilst being responsible. Nikolaus's cunning nature comes naturally as well but only for hunting purposes. His ambition is not too strong, though it's been pushed by his father. He is also arrogant and borderline cocky; it's a show, though, and to make himself laugh. Deep down, he's bashful and awkward when it comes to sincere flattery or affection, something he's never had. There is more than meets the eye with Nikolaus that he doesn't leave on the surface.
》History
Born as the son of decorated Operation Humanity Hunter, Nikolaus's childhood began under a strict regimen and gritty life lessons. He was five when Trotter started "conditioning" his son to become one of the deadliest hunters alive. At adulthood, Niko had become a product of vigorous physical training and supernatural study. To Niko, it was never enough when it came to proving his worth to his father. He wanted to be the best. He needed to be the best. So when his father presented him with the opportunity to undergo experimentation, he took with the impression that he was on the path to being a hero to humans and a monster to those who were not. After experimentation, he noticed that he was considered an "Asset" and had more restrictions. This was all part of the plan, he would tell himself. It was also during this time that he met Angel Beaumont, a fellow asset that couldn't be more opposite to him. She disregarded rules and policy and often found himself having to reign her in, but she was beginning to grow on him. Even change his perspective a bit... No, he was his father's son! He was a Trotter.
》Group
🔫 Operation Humanity
》Preferred Weapons
🔫 Sword
🔫 Knives/daggers
🔫 Guns
》Combat Skills
🔫 Charismatic
🔫 Lethal accuracy
🔫 Camouflage
》Experiment ?
Yes: His perk is super-strength and durability. He also has sharpened teeth.
🔫 See history..
Side Effects
🔫 High Blood Pressure, requires routine monitoring
🔫 Sensitive to loud noises
🔫 He requires tons of protein/carbohydrates to keep up with himself
》Weaknesses
🔫 Nikolaus is not the quickest.
🔫 He is sensitive to the heat
🔫 He has difficulty concentrating at times, and sleeping is difficult.
🔫 Operation Humanity
》Preferred Weapons
🔫 Sword
🔫 Knives/daggers
🔫 Guns
》Combat Skills
🔫 Charismatic
🔫 Lethal accuracy
🔫 Camouflage
》Experiment ?
Yes: His perk is super-strength and durability. He also has sharpened teeth.
🔫 See history..
Side Effects
🔫 High Blood Pressure, requires routine monitoring
🔫 Sensitive to loud noises
🔫 He requires tons of protein/carbohydrates to keep up with himself
》Weaknesses
🔫 Nikolaus is not the quickest.
🔫 He is sensitive to the heat
🔫 He has difficulty concentrating at times, and sleeping is difficult.
2x Like
coGM
》B a s i c s
Full name: Dante Hale
Age: 58
Date of Birth: 1962
Gender: Male
Where are you from?: Ember Grove
》A p p e a r a n c e
Height: 6ft
Weight: 180lbs
Hair Color: Dark Brown
Hair Length: Medium
Skin Color: Brown
Eye Color: Amber
Tattoos, Piercings, etc skin markings: A pair of gold earrings on each ear.
》R e l a t i o n s h i p s
Sexuality: Heterosexual
Relationship Status: Single
Any pre-determined friends?: Maeve is his boss.
Siblings' Status: Sarah
Parents' Status: Joseph Hale and Michelle Hale
Pets: A dark fawn sable Belgium Malinois named Ash (Familiar)
How open is your character to friends from 1 to 10?: 6
How open is your character to romance from 1 to 10?: 6
》I n t e r e s t s
Likes:
✡ Nature
✡ Helping others in need
✡ The astral plane
✡ Hot drinks
Dislikes:
✡ Ill intentions
✡ Use and users of forbidden magic
✡ Witch hunters
Hobbies:
✡ Reading
✡ Nature Watching
✡ People Watching
✡ Traveling the astral plane
Skills:
✡ Firearms Marksmanship
✡ Minor Acrobatics
✡ High-level Physical Fitness
》P e r s o n a l i t y
A man with a stoic attitude for the most part. He is generally friendly to others, but does not usually go out of his way to approach others without some kind of ulterior motive.
He remains modest despite his level of skill and talent, always wanting to improve. Most of what he does is to honor his family's legacy, but to ensure the Circle of the Ancients are successful in their mission of expelling forbidden magic use.
He can often see things in black and white, and rarely excuses others of foul actions and intentions.
》H i s t o r y
Dante was born into a family within the Circle of the Ancients clan that may not have been one of the oldest, but it was prominent nonetheless. His family always aimed to support the coven with discipline and skill. Many families often found a niche role to fill in the coven based on their families’ innate abilities, but the Hale family found dignity in allowing its members to utilize their individual talents to become masters in diverse fields. Dante chose to become a member of the Blades, enforcers used by the coven to ride the supernatural world of forbidden magic and those that used it.
Dante studied and practiced his magic intensively and was considered talented for his age in his younger years. At the age of 20, he had become an initiate in the Blades. He traveled the United States, quelling forbidden magic. He was able to see and even enjoy the nation outside of the small town of Ember Grove. However, some good things don't last long. One tragic night cost the lives of a few of his companions and the loss of his own voice.
Dante was quickly sent back to Ember Grove to possibly reverse the loss of his voice, but all attempts ended in failure. He was unable to verbally recite incantations, which quickly led to the end of his time with the blades. The first several months were difficult for him to cope with. He hadn't just lost his ability to verbally communicate, but he felt he had failed his family and himself. At least until he discovered something both peculiar and terrifying. He had heard of witch hunters before, but when he saw them attack those wielding magic with such tenacity, he understood why they were feared. Without magic, they relied on conventional weapons and physical strength. He could do the same…
So again, he studied and practiced. Growing powerful in a different way and in time gaining the attention of Maeve Brannigan herself. She seemed more curious in attempting to communicate with him, but Dante soon found himself under her direct charge. He was reinstated as a Blade, but this time it was different. He was alone, hidden, and struck with conviction. He was Maeve's silent blade, held hidden in her left hand.
》C o v e n
Circle of the Ancients
》S k i l l L e v e l
Intermediate
》S p e l l S p e c i a l i z a t i o n
Astral Shift - A Hale family spell that allows one to shift their physical body into an astral form. While in this form, the user can pass through solid objects and is invisible to the naked eye. Clothes and items held will also be shifted with the user and have the same effects. This ability only seems to be effective while the sun is set.
Crusader Lord A professional, anxiety-riddled, part-time worker
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A professional, anxiety-riddled, part-time worker
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in 2707 days
Charlotte Amber Wardwell
》B a s i c s
Full name: Charlotte Amber Wardwell
Age: 19
Date of Birth: March 15th
Gender: Female
Where are you from?: Ember Grove
》A p p e a r a n c e
Height: 5’8”
Weight:134
Hair Color: Black
Hair Length: Lower Back
Skin Color: Pale Caucasian
Eye Color: Very Dark Brown/Black
Tattoos, Piercings, etc skin markings: A tramp stamp in the design of spread dragon wings, one which she once got against her parents’ wishes during an outing with a friend back home.
》R e l a t i o n s h i p s
Sexuality: Bisexual
Relationship Status: Single
Any predetermined friends?: Has none locally (yet), had a small friend group from high school before (won’t be showing up in-person in the RP).
Siblings' Status: Alive (Has 4 other siblings)
Parents' Status: Alive
Pets: None
How open is your character to friends from 1 to 10?: 9
How open is your character to romance from 1 to 10?: 10
》I n t e r e s t s
Likes:
✡Video Game/Anime Music
✡Classic Rock
✡The Beach
✡Cake
✡Nighttime
✡Mythology
Dislikes:
✡’Controlling Assholes’ (in her own words)
✡Smoking
✡Seagulls
✡Politics
Hobbies:
✡Cooking
✡Magic
✡Swimming
Skills:
✡Photoshop
✡Her cooking skills are actually rather good for her age
✡Quick on the fly and on her feet
✡Determined
》P e r s o n a l i t y
Charlotte as a person is the kind to come across as a relaxed person when in casual, donning comfortable clothing constantly in her personal life and an attitude of wearing what she wants when she wants to without care. Even with her impetuous ferocity in treading her own path, since her emergence from high school she’s become a bit more tired and exhausted by life and goings-on and has become more ‘chill’ than she was in high school. She can talk to someone new without skipping a beat, but likewise expect her to state her mind without a second thought if she wants to say something. However, when she does become attached to someone her softer side tends to show more around them as time goes on...and in truth she isn't a 'bad person' at heart.
She can, however, be passionate about her interests in magic and travel and cooking. Despite being financially trapped from dreams of seeing other places and returning to her comfortable new apartment, however, she at least has the maturity to understand she’ll have to work her way to that point over time. She won’t claim she is a master of either of her passions as well, though at times her cooking can be odd with the occasional ‘ancient recipe’ that one of her past lives pushes for her to make in her less-supernatural hobby.
Though regarding her situations as a reincarnation, and the presence of all her past lives within her own head, she has what could be best summed up as ‘a lot of mixed feelings’ about it all. On one hand they terrified her when she began to hear them at 13, trying to guide and direct her or commenting on things or even bickering with each other and sounding like they were standing right next to or behind her the entire time. Even her own mother’s attempt to explain things to her only went so far, and it came down to her and them having to work things out internally. A few of the voices are most prominent, however, and stand out among her past lives as the ‘strongest’ and likely to be able to hush the lesser others or hold sway on them....and these are ones she generally has the best relations with among those past lives all fluttering about in her head all the time.
》H i s t o r y
The history of the Wardwell’s is a thing that few people know. To the mundane public they are but another family whose old ancestor immigrated to the USA, setting up a life there. Then they moved about a bit, before their second youngest child moved to Ember Grove far from home after graduation and a long beach vacation with some friends. Yet in truth, their bloodline is a magical one steeped far back in history and shrouded by mystery even from many of their own. Their ancestors on a far larger scale have ranged from ancient Mesopotamia all the way to the modern day USA and in-between.
It all began with a girl born into a well-off family in Sumeria with oddly pale skin, deathly white hair, magical potential, and heterochromatic eyes (one blue and one gold respectively). She was seen as a fragile thing, and equal parts “blessed by the gods” as well as an inauspicious sign by some others. She would ultimately be trained to be a priestess of Inanna, as well as seeking to hone her gift and build it for the sake of the people. And yet when a new king took the city she lived in, she and many were cast out of their positions and sent out into the plains to die. Living among the afflicted she became an outcast, even, and as her former fellow priestesses withered away and cursed the gods she continued to walk onwards. Even until her feet bled upon the river banks and upon the plains she continued to walk, and all the while decided to push her craft onwards.
In her journey she saw suffering. She saw war. She saw pain of an incomprehensible kind. She saw the pride of those who lauded themselves on high. She saw the humility of those who had lost all and barely clung to a sense of self-preservation. Yet in all of this as she came to terms with her own loss of purpose and life...she saw something, something she deemed to be ‘more beautiful than anything else’. It became a purpose as she moved onwards, even beyond her lands of birth and away. To see it all, to see the joy and the sorrow, the pain and the pleasure, she wanted to witness this world forever. She used her gifts to extend her life, as well as to heal and to hurt, and ultimately to continue her journeyings. She continued to push onward from place to place even beyond the span of a normal human’s lifetime for so long as she moved and saw and learned about the world.
In a sense one could call her motive ‘pure’ at it’s very core, the desire to see it all that had become her new purpose in life. She swore to witness the struggles of mankind until its bitter end, even if she had to continue to travel until she could move no more. Along the way she made acquaintances, at times a friend who might travel with her for a time, and at other times enemies that sought to spill her blood upon the ground until it ran no more. It was a long life, and yet one that she sought to treasure every second of despite everything. Perhaps it was madness that drove her along, perhaps it was hope, though in the end she would work to make her dream a reality as she came upon an idea of how to do so.
To see through her own two eyes was a view that, in time, would only grow duller as she extended her own lifespan through the use of magic. To see through the same eyes over and over was one thing, however, and perceiving the world through the eyes of those from each age was another. It became her grand plan, gathering friends and research and bearing her own children until she forged a ritual that would make her dream come true. At the sacrifice of her own life, ‘immortality’ as she wanted would be achieved through reincarnation. To each generation after her would come her knowledge and memories and self to guide them from the background, and yet through their eyes she would see the world as it changed and be able to learn more of it anew.
That would be a most exciting adventure, wouldn't it?
It all began with a girl born into a well-off family in Sumeria with oddly pale skin, deathly white hair, magical potential, and heterochromatic eyes (one blue and one gold respectively). She was seen as a fragile thing, and equal parts “blessed by the gods” as well as an inauspicious sign by some others. She would ultimately be trained to be a priestess of Inanna, as well as seeking to hone her gift and build it for the sake of the people. And yet when a new king took the city she lived in, she and many were cast out of their positions and sent out into the plains to die. Living among the afflicted she became an outcast, even, and as her former fellow priestesses withered away and cursed the gods she continued to walk onwards. Even until her feet bled upon the river banks and upon the plains she continued to walk, and all the while decided to push her craft onwards.
In her journey she saw suffering. She saw war. She saw pain of an incomprehensible kind. She saw the pride of those who lauded themselves on high. She saw the humility of those who had lost all and barely clung to a sense of self-preservation. Yet in all of this as she came to terms with her own loss of purpose and life...she saw something, something she deemed to be ‘more beautiful than anything else’. It became a purpose as she moved onwards, even beyond her lands of birth and away. To see it all, to see the joy and the sorrow, the pain and the pleasure, she wanted to witness this world forever. She used her gifts to extend her life, as well as to heal and to hurt, and ultimately to continue her journeyings. She continued to push onward from place to place even beyond the span of a normal human’s lifetime for so long as she moved and saw and learned about the world.
In a sense one could call her motive ‘pure’ at it’s very core, the desire to see it all that had become her new purpose in life. She swore to witness the struggles of mankind until its bitter end, even if she had to continue to travel until she could move no more. Along the way she made acquaintances, at times a friend who might travel with her for a time, and at other times enemies that sought to spill her blood upon the ground until it ran no more. It was a long life, and yet one that she sought to treasure every second of despite everything. Perhaps it was madness that drove her along, perhaps it was hope, though in the end she would work to make her dream a reality as she came upon an idea of how to do so.
To see through her own two eyes was a view that, in time, would only grow duller as she extended her own lifespan through the use of magic. To see through the same eyes over and over was one thing, however, and perceiving the world through the eyes of those from each age was another. It became her grand plan, gathering friends and research and bearing her own children until she forged a ritual that would make her dream come true. At the sacrifice of her own life, ‘immortality’ as she wanted would be achieved through reincarnation. To each generation after her would come her knowledge and memories and self to guide them from the background, and yet through their eyes she would see the world as it changed and be able to learn more of it anew.
That would be a most exciting adventure, wouldn't it?
Charlotte was born the only magically-able child of 5 to a witch mother and an ex-military (and in the know) human father. Despite being the second youngest among her siblings, Charlotte proved to be the one in her generation (as with apparently every generation of her family for longer than she knew) to inherit the magical capabilities. Her mother taught her the magical arts of a witch, drilling her as best as she could whilst letting her daughter live a life as cover for her magical nature. Of course there were incidents here and there, but also scattered ‘family friends’ (read: related same-coven member families) who helped cover those ‘little mistakes’ up and smooth things over. Of course her family had to move a few times due to these incidents, which made her somewhat sad, though in the end she was still pushed to be the best witch and person she could become.
At the age of 13, however, she began to hear ‘voices’ in her head. They were faint at first, but became clearer and clearer as she got older. It frightened her somewhat, though her mother simply calmed her and sought to explain. Even so, it was hard to handle a life where one of your own past lives could just pipe in at any moment and sound like they were standing right there next to you while you were in class or otherwise. Yet she still managed to acquire friends of some sort in her last three years of high school, ones which she considered herself ‘blessed’ to have all in the same place and school. She also managed to get generally good grades, learn some more about the voices in her head somewhat, and even made plans for doing online college after graduation. Of course her plans to simply move far away after graduation became a contention point with her parents, which led to some ‘teenage rebellion’ more so as she neared graduation, though in the end she promised to at least call home and keep contact if nothing else.
At the age of 18 she left her senior year in high school, before going on a month-long beach vacation (courtesy of a donation from a friend’s wealthy relatives) with friends...all as she made plans to move into an apartment in a little cozy old town called “Ember Grove”. After that it would take a little time for plans to move, and a bit of ‘family friend help’ to expedite the process, to get her moved there in final by the time she turned 19. Admittedly it was a tiring process that took a lot out of her, but as of late she has begun to finally stretch out her new independence! With her first semester of online college beginning next spring as well, she has hopes to live her life as she wants to and keep up the family practice!
However...an incident soon to happen will force her into the world of Ember Grove’s own supernatural. Whether this is for the best or the worst, only time will tell.
At the age of 13, however, she began to hear ‘voices’ in her head. They were faint at first, but became clearer and clearer as she got older. It frightened her somewhat, though her mother simply calmed her and sought to explain. Even so, it was hard to handle a life where one of your own past lives could just pipe in at any moment and sound like they were standing right there next to you while you were in class or otherwise. Yet she still managed to acquire friends of some sort in her last three years of high school, ones which she considered herself ‘blessed’ to have all in the same place and school. She also managed to get generally good grades, learn some more about the voices in her head somewhat, and even made plans for doing online college after graduation. Of course her plans to simply move far away after graduation became a contention point with her parents, which led to some ‘teenage rebellion’ more so as she neared graduation, though in the end she promised to at least call home and keep contact if nothing else.
At the age of 18 she left her senior year in high school, before going on a month-long beach vacation (courtesy of a donation from a friend’s wealthy relatives) with friends...all as she made plans to move into an apartment in a little cozy old town called “Ember Grove”. After that it would take a little time for plans to move, and a bit of ‘family friend help’ to expedite the process, to get her moved there in final by the time she turned 19. Admittedly it was a tiring process that took a lot out of her, but as of late she has begun to finally stretch out her new independence! With her first semester of online college beginning next spring as well, she has hopes to live her life as she wants to and keep up the family practice!
However...an incident soon to happen will force her into the world of Ember Grove’s own supernatural. Whether this is for the best or the worst, only time will tell.
》C o v e n
None (Never formally entered one. Her mother otherwise part of a highly diffused coven called ‘The Winding Paths Coven’, which is loosely scattered across all over North America and generally is helpful to its own to make their lives easier.)
》S k i l l L e v e l
Intermediate (just entered this level, has learned a few on this level [primarily Telekinesis and Soul Sliver])
(Due to her past lives’ presence within her, she has the ability to rather temporarily exert other ‘intermediate’ and even ‘advanced’ stuff and the like that her past lives knew/learned. This can be done by them ‘loaning’ her knowledge/experience temporarily. This ‘loan’ process does drain Charlotte of stamina and strength in the aftermath, however, which is a penalty...the more potent the ‘loan’ making the draining side effects that much more potent in return.)
》S p e l l S p e c i a l i z a t i o n
-Telekinesis
-Soul Sliver (A unique spell originating from the reincarnation research of the Wardwell’s founder/ancestor, and practiced by their bloodline, it allows the caster to insert slivers of their soul into target things/objects and turns them into a ‘golem’.
While the spell is active, the caster is able to see from the perspective of and communicate through their golems. From a living tree or plant, to statues and park benches, to drones or cars, to even the skeleton hanging up in a high school classroom, this spell is highly versatile and able to transform the world around the caster into a potential tool or weapon.
If cast on something like a pool of water or patch of earth, the resulting ‘golem’ takes a vague humanoid shape. This sort of golem also might need to reform again if hit hard enough, due to parts of its body breaking, though provided enough of the ‘material’ it was made of is around it can continue to reform when damaged.
Once a golem is fully destroyed or the spell is canceled, the sliver of soul automatically returns to the caster.
At the Basic level, a witch/warlock can only make one ‘golem’ at a given time. At Intermediate and Advanced levels, however, this spell can create more and more golems at the same time. It is also acceptable to use this spell on a dead animal body or dead plantlife, though in regards to the former this is seen as distinctly creepy in this particular usage.
However, the specific use of this spell on a slain vampire, dead werewolf, or dead human/witch/hunter is a blatantly possible but forbidden magic and has the associated social and personal ramifications of forbidden magic in this case. [Does not work on still living sentient things though.])
Valya Karaznov
*Human Form*
*Werewolf Form*
》B a s i c s
Full name: Valya Alexandra Karaznov
Age: ~4770
Date of Birth: Vaguely around June 2750 BC/BCE
Gender: Female
Where are you from?: Ancient Siberian Wilderness (originally, at least, has lived in various places around the world at differing times otherwise)
》A p p e a r a n c e
Height: 6’0”
Weight: 162 lbs (due to dense muscle in her case)
Hair Color: Dark Wine Red
Hair Length: Butt-length
Skin Color: White Caucasian
Eye Color: Wine Red
Tattoos, Piercings, etc skin markings: Two piercings in the right ear, one of which holds a longer hanging earring on a silvery-colored chain and the other right above that which holds a smaller gold ring earring.
Detail your werewolf form: Whilst her aging has stopped, her growth as a werewolf continued on for some time after. Her werewolf form stands at the staggering height of a whopping 10 feet, packed with rather dense muscle, bright green eyes, and powerful claws. Whether she is the actual ‘largest’ is a total unknown, but she is among the largest members of her kind.
***Werewolf/Non-Transformed Appearance Links (Respectively)***
https://i.imgur.com/BwsEDou.jpg
https://i.imgur.com/iLQdUSf.jpg
https://i.imgur.com/BwsEDou.jpg
https://i.imgur.com/iLQdUSf.jpg
》R e l a t i o n s h i p s
Sexuality: Bisexual (leans distinctly more towards women)
Relationship Status: Single and Available
Any predetermined friends?: Has some varied connections over the years, mainly in the form of the descendants of young she had in the far past that are scattered about the world in a few places.
Siblings' Status: Dead
Parents' Status: Dead
Pets: None
How open is your character to friends from 1 to 10?: 8
How open is your character to romance from 1 to 10?: 10
》I n t e r e s t s
Likes:
Three minimum.
✡ Interesting TV Shows
✡ Rare Steak
✡ Firearms
✡ Skinny Dipping under the moonlight
✡ Beers and Fine Wine
✡ Nature
Dislikes:
Three minimum.
✡ Soap Operas
✡ Overconfidence/Arrogance
✡ Coffee
✡ White Chocolate
Hobbies:
Three minimum.
✡ Drinking
✡ Traveling
✡ Video Games
Skills:
Three minimum.
✡ Martial Arts/Firearms
✡ Extremely Prodigious Polyglot
✡ Superb Memory
》P e r s o n a l i t y
An ancient wanderer who enjoys seeing the world and occasionally settling down here and there for a time, which for her is longer than most, before setting off once more. The kind of person who holds memories of those they connected with close and dear to them, but also is willing to go out and make new memories and enjoy it all. One could call her a bit of a hedonist in regards to her passion for enjoyment and self-indulgence at times, though she can rather easily switch to being serious and otherwise back and forth seemingly on a dime. In fact, her anger can be something fierce when stoked...and even worse if one considers the dedication this 4000+ year old immortal can exert after more than a fair share of practice. However, even in her long years she is the sort of long-lived being who has kept enough in touch with mortals and learned enough in her past that even now she generally looks at the value of even a simple human life with a keen and empathetic eye.
》H i s t o r y
As a pureblood werewolf she was born long, long ago to the alpha of a great pack living in the woods near a primitive village amidst the Siberean Wilderness. For much of the first part of her life, she was raised with the mind that her people were the strongest, bearing a lineage and might that no human nor other being could match. They were one with the wilderness, with their senses, and with their pack. She was raised in a harsh manner, lending to her combat prowess and learning of self-control and discipline to become a productive member of the pack...and a potential future alpha in her own right due to her parentage.
Yet one day, a strange traveler would approach the small village and seemingly bring its people under her sway over the coming days. Almost like an allure beyond the natural...something that indeed would end up being entirely unnatural. To her father, it was like the stranger had intruded upon their grounds and their area. It was seen as an affront, and so her fathis and the pack went to ‘deal’ with the intruder as she was left behind to protect the more vulnerable parts of the pack. It was a decision that, ultimately, would save Valya’s life and lead to her seeming ‘destiny’ as she first phrased it as back then.
By morning the fighters of the pack had not returned, and with the pressure from her mother to seek them out she went to go find them. She ran through the woods, hoping that her fathis and the others were alive, and yet when she arrived in the village a macabre scene lay before her. Mauled bodies, twisted looks of pain, severed heads and limbs, and the corpses of her brethren and myriad humans covered the ground in an array of carnage that made even her stomach turn to its core. Even the permafrost-covered ground was stained, nay seemingly drenched almost entirely with crimson red blood. What had once been a place of people and territory of her people was now the very grounds of death itself, nothing short or more than that, and at the center of it all sat the stranger as she cooked around a fire.
The stranger turned her head to her, smiling as if nothing was wrong and motioning her over. He, for her part, was left stunned and filled with a swirling vortex of pure rage and the most primal and deep-seated instinctual terror she had ever felt in her years. Only after a few moments of staring did her legs even allow her to move, before she took several steps forward and stopped cold in her tracks once more.
The woman only seemed to lightly sigh back before she spoke.
“You must be a member of that pack from last night! Truth be told, I came here to hunt for some rare herbs and plants I heard were about here and study your people, but in the end I had to defend myself from your people it seems. Nothing much to do about it but do what I had to.”
She seemed to regard the scene about them with a certain neutrality, as if she had been simply held at a mild inconvenience by it all and yet regretted that it happened at all.
“You grew up learning to become strong to survive, yes? At least I’d assume so with how these ones fought. Strong, mighty warriors of the wilderness, but ones who underestimated the people here and their own will to survive.
...But being from a pack, you know the price of trying to kill that which ends up stronger than you? Right? It’s very simple when you go by the rules of nature. Only the strongest come out of the battle for survival.
Though I’d add that knowing when to fight and when to not fight is just as great a strength...one that these ones don’t seem to have learned before it was far too late.”
She couldn’t believe it, but even as her instincts willed her to fight and flee she felt herself drawn in by the stranger’s words. The woman’s appearance was one of incredible beauty, that much even she could tell, and yet the carnage about her was undeniably tied back to her and the people here by her own admission. Still, however, she found herself still unable to even so much as move still. The stench of death seemed to linger about like a torrential miasma whose sheer pressure stopped her limbs and physical being, as if she’d stepped into the underworld itself, even as her mind raced and battled to get her to do something.
“People, animals, vampires, your kind, and every living thing is put under the very same bar when it comes to surviving. You do or you don’t, and that is the cold truth that these lands seem to hammer into those who live here in the most harsh of ways. Animal or human, or otherwise really, it still holds true...yet even so I still mourn the lives lost here. It...it didn’t need to happen.
Those who lived here had so much potential, and yet they spoiled it on stupid things like ideas of superiority and refusing to adapt to what was going on around them! They could have worked with people here and been something better!
But you seem...hmmm...how do I put it? Different? Different! You recognize the danger here, even if those others didn’t last night. Even as they died their companions only kept coming at me, even as the bodies piled up they lashed out with claims of being ‘superior’ and a total lack of self-preservation. But unlike you, they refused to learn and at least listen for a moment.”
The woman smiled at her again, before starting to walk towards her in a relaxed manner. Yet even so it caused her instincts to flee to finally cry out loud enough to win over the swirling twister of emotions within her.
In a heartbeat she began to turn to run, her body pushing her to enter her werewolf form simply to give her the strength to get out of this faster. Run. Flee. Escape. her very flesh pumped with the one thing she could process at the time: Survival. She had to survive. The remainder of the pack didn’t even come to mind at that very moment. She had to get out of this.
...Yet as she tried to flee this time, her very body shook as something stabbed into her turned back mid-transformation. Poison coursed in her pulsing veins and arteries, flowing through her heart, and even her desire to live couldn’t make her body move as it would finally collapse limply to the ground.
“Don’t worry! You won’t die, but after all of this I still need someone to study from your people. Bit of a pain, but you’ll do very nicely regardless! I promise I won't let you die either...gets a little lonely being by myself and all. So let’s be friends!”
Yet one day, a strange traveler would approach the small village and seemingly bring its people under her sway over the coming days. Almost like an allure beyond the natural...something that indeed would end up being entirely unnatural. To her father, it was like the stranger had intruded upon their grounds and their area. It was seen as an affront, and so her fathis and the pack went to ‘deal’ with the intruder as she was left behind to protect the more vulnerable parts of the pack. It was a decision that, ultimately, would save Valya’s life and lead to her seeming ‘destiny’ as she first phrased it as back then.
By morning the fighters of the pack had not returned, and with the pressure from her mother to seek them out she went to go find them. She ran through the woods, hoping that her fathis and the others were alive, and yet when she arrived in the village a macabre scene lay before her. Mauled bodies, twisted looks of pain, severed heads and limbs, and the corpses of her brethren and myriad humans covered the ground in an array of carnage that made even her stomach turn to its core. Even the permafrost-covered ground was stained, nay seemingly drenched almost entirely with crimson red blood. What had once been a place of people and territory of her people was now the very grounds of death itself, nothing short or more than that, and at the center of it all sat the stranger as she cooked around a fire.
The stranger turned her head to her, smiling as if nothing was wrong and motioning her over. He, for her part, was left stunned and filled with a swirling vortex of pure rage and the most primal and deep-seated instinctual terror she had ever felt in her years. Only after a few moments of staring did her legs even allow her to move, before she took several steps forward and stopped cold in her tracks once more.
The woman only seemed to lightly sigh back before she spoke.
“You must be a member of that pack from last night! Truth be told, I came here to hunt for some rare herbs and plants I heard were about here and study your people, but in the end I had to defend myself from your people it seems. Nothing much to do about it but do what I had to.”
She seemed to regard the scene about them with a certain neutrality, as if she had been simply held at a mild inconvenience by it all and yet regretted that it happened at all.
“You grew up learning to become strong to survive, yes? At least I’d assume so with how these ones fought. Strong, mighty warriors of the wilderness, but ones who underestimated the people here and their own will to survive.
...But being from a pack, you know the price of trying to kill that which ends up stronger than you? Right? It’s very simple when you go by the rules of nature. Only the strongest come out of the battle for survival.
Though I’d add that knowing when to fight and when to not fight is just as great a strength...one that these ones don’t seem to have learned before it was far too late.”
She couldn’t believe it, but even as her instincts willed her to fight and flee she felt herself drawn in by the stranger’s words. The woman’s appearance was one of incredible beauty, that much even she could tell, and yet the carnage about her was undeniably tied back to her and the people here by her own admission. Still, however, she found herself still unable to even so much as move still. The stench of death seemed to linger about like a torrential miasma whose sheer pressure stopped her limbs and physical being, as if she’d stepped into the underworld itself, even as her mind raced and battled to get her to do something.
“People, animals, vampires, your kind, and every living thing is put under the very same bar when it comes to surviving. You do or you don’t, and that is the cold truth that these lands seem to hammer into those who live here in the most harsh of ways. Animal or human, or otherwise really, it still holds true...yet even so I still mourn the lives lost here. It...it didn’t need to happen.
Those who lived here had so much potential, and yet they spoiled it on stupid things like ideas of superiority and refusing to adapt to what was going on around them! They could have worked with people here and been something better!
But you seem...hmmm...how do I put it? Different? Different! You recognize the danger here, even if those others didn’t last night. Even as they died their companions only kept coming at me, even as the bodies piled up they lashed out with claims of being ‘superior’ and a total lack of self-preservation. But unlike you, they refused to learn and at least listen for a moment.”
The woman smiled at her again, before starting to walk towards her in a relaxed manner. Yet even so it caused her instincts to flee to finally cry out loud enough to win over the swirling twister of emotions within her.
In a heartbeat she began to turn to run, her body pushing her to enter her werewolf form simply to give her the strength to get out of this faster. Run. Flee. Escape. her very flesh pumped with the one thing she could process at the time: Survival. She had to survive. The remainder of the pack didn’t even come to mind at that very moment. She had to get out of this.
...Yet as she tried to flee this time, her very body shook as something stabbed into her turned back mid-transformation. Poison coursed in her pulsing veins and arteries, flowing through her heart, and even her desire to live couldn’t make her body move as it would finally collapse limply to the ground.
“Don’t worry! You won’t die, but after all of this I still need someone to study from your people. Bit of a pain, but you’ll do very nicely regardless! I promise I won't let you die either...gets a little lonely being by myself and all. So let’s be friends!”
After that day her life became that of a servant, bound with a number of enchanted items and poisons and such. She was taken around the world as a traveling companion by the witch, and at first she loathed every moment of it. She tried many times to escape, to her own self-admitted credit, and yet each and every time it didn’t get much of anywhere. Yet the witch seemed to regard these attempts as ‘funny’ for some reason! So much she tried to get back to her people, and yet all the same she was harshly denied and continually pulled around. It was infuriating, and yet at the same time she found herself ultimately giving up on a quick escape after some time.
As the decades then began to pass, the witch would talk to her more and more...and more and more she found herself listening to her. At first it was a desire to learn about her in some manner, and perhaps use that to escape. Then it became a simple curiosity about her mindset regarding the world at large. Then it became normal to talk to and learn from her. Bit by little bit, part by part, the desire to go back began to slowly but surely be whittled away like an eroding hill. Even when passing an area bordering her old home, she knew she wouldn’t be welcomed back anymore. In the eyes of anyone descended from that time, she had died long ago and they had probably moved on or otherwise dashed themselves to death against the harsh truth they refused to accept.
She’d been kidnapped from her home, her mightiest kin slaughtered, and yet in her travels with the witch she found herself. To her it was a journey that in the end brought her to terms with her life and family, and allowed her to think for herself for once. A new perspective created through tragic circumstances and being forced to stop and listen for once. Her fathis and people had been fighting with the mind that they were the strongest, the best, and the most powerful beings in all the world. Perhaps that explanation was exaggerated a bit, but even so that was the true ‘gist’ of that old mindset. All else was lesser than them, and in the end that had come back and taken their lives and kept them from coming back home. They had died savages among savages, in some twist of irony, and it had been someone that destroyed that world who showed her what else was out there and what it was like.
In the witch she found someone who she came to understand more than anyone else. An individual that wanted to see the progress of life until the bitter end, someone whose drive was fueled by witnessing great misery and death before taking some time to come to terms with it. Someone who had seen life and death over and over, only to decide that she wanted to see it through to the end with her own two eyes. Or rather, see it herself through the eyes of others. A stupid immortal dream, an old man’s fantasy, and yet she found herself admiring the witch’s zeal to witness things through the very end in her own way.
In the witch’s experiments for ‘true’ immortality, one that defied her meager mortal coil, even her own werewolf flesh would be warped and twisted into something ageless. She could still be killed, that much was frankly true, but hell she hadn’t expected as much as that to come about. Yet when the witch ultimately found compatriots and settled down, she came along for the ride as she always had. No magical bindings or the like needed this time.
But when the witch eventually enacted a ritual she hoped would make her desires come true, Valya stood there and felt like a part of herself died that day. The person she’d cared most about, came to care the most for anyone, shared moments with that she had with no one else...ultimately burnt out like a final spark of fire in the dead of night. Even so, she knew she would be back among another generation, and she would find her again. Every single time she would find her, every generation, every era. Though she was another person, and those moments of the past could never return, she’d always remember her somehow when they finally met. In this they could talk about the world through new eyes.
Hopefully this latest reincarnation would be willing to at least talk to her. Besides, Ember Grove seemed like an interesting place to by anyways!
As the decades then began to pass, the witch would talk to her more and more...and more and more she found herself listening to her. At first it was a desire to learn about her in some manner, and perhaps use that to escape. Then it became a simple curiosity about her mindset regarding the world at large. Then it became normal to talk to and learn from her. Bit by little bit, part by part, the desire to go back began to slowly but surely be whittled away like an eroding hill. Even when passing an area bordering her old home, she knew she wouldn’t be welcomed back anymore. In the eyes of anyone descended from that time, she had died long ago and they had probably moved on or otherwise dashed themselves to death against the harsh truth they refused to accept.
She’d been kidnapped from her home, her mightiest kin slaughtered, and yet in her travels with the witch she found herself. To her it was a journey that in the end brought her to terms with her life and family, and allowed her to think for herself for once. A new perspective created through tragic circumstances and being forced to stop and listen for once. Her fathis and people had been fighting with the mind that they were the strongest, the best, and the most powerful beings in all the world. Perhaps that explanation was exaggerated a bit, but even so that was the true ‘gist’ of that old mindset. All else was lesser than them, and in the end that had come back and taken their lives and kept them from coming back home. They had died savages among savages, in some twist of irony, and it had been someone that destroyed that world who showed her what else was out there and what it was like.
In the witch she found someone who she came to understand more than anyone else. An individual that wanted to see the progress of life until the bitter end, someone whose drive was fueled by witnessing great misery and death before taking some time to come to terms with it. Someone who had seen life and death over and over, only to decide that she wanted to see it through to the end with her own two eyes. Or rather, see it herself through the eyes of others. A stupid immortal dream, an old man’s fantasy, and yet she found herself admiring the witch’s zeal to witness things through the very end in her own way.
In the witch’s experiments for ‘true’ immortality, one that defied her meager mortal coil, even her own werewolf flesh would be warped and twisted into something ageless. She could still be killed, that much was frankly true, but hell she hadn’t expected as much as that to come about. Yet when the witch ultimately found compatriots and settled down, she came along for the ride as she always had. No magical bindings or the like needed this time.
But when the witch eventually enacted a ritual she hoped would make her desires come true, Valya stood there and felt like a part of herself died that day. The person she’d cared most about, came to care the most for anyone, shared moments with that she had with no one else...ultimately burnt out like a final spark of fire in the dead of night. Even so, she knew she would be back among another generation, and she would find her again. Every single time she would find her, every generation, every era. Though she was another person, and those moments of the past could never return, she’d always remember her somehow when they finally met. In this they could talk about the world through new eyes.
Hopefully this latest reincarnation would be willing to at least talk to her. Besides, Ember Grove seemed like an interesting place to by anyways!
》P a c k
None
》P u r e b l o o d?
Pureblood, descended from the original line.
Alice de La Trémoille
》Get to Know Alice
Full name: Alice Rose de La Trémoille
Age: 12
Date of Birth: November 1st, 2008
Gender: Female
Where are you from?: Ember Grove
》Appearance
Alice stands at 4’10 an weighs 95 pounds. She has dirty blonde hair that hangs around her shoulders in waves. She has freckles across her nose and cheeks. With fair skin, her bright blue, borderline silver, eyes stick out. She has her ears pierced and wears bracelets often. She has acne and also crooked teeth. She enjoys wearing girly clothing, although occasionally she will dress tomboyish. Alice used to wear more floral clothing, but often dresses a bit darker now. She has a slim frame, not seeming to have any muscle at all.
》Relationship
Alice is heterosexual, and is not interested in romance. She does not have any predetermined friends. Her old brother, Gabriel, committed suicide in 2019. Her parents are Samuel and Julia. She has a ginger cat named Honey who she no longer has with her. She is interested in friendship (8) and is not open for a relationship.
》Interests
Likes:
⋆ Tea and candy
⋆ Nature and the park
⋆ Playing hockey and soccer
⋆ Reading fiction
⋆ Drawing
Dislikes:
⋆ Blood
⋆ Bullies
⋆ Fighting
⋆ Mean, snotty people
⋆ Being alone
Hobbies:
⋆ Arts and Crafts
⋆ Playing the violin
⋆ Reading
⋆ Hockey
Skills:
⋆ Stealthy
⋆ Decent liar
⋆ Basic survival skills
⋆ From Girl Scouts, she can make a basic campfire
》Personality
The first impression of Alice is kindness and innocence. Her aura gives off a sweet vibe. There doesn’t seem to be a mean bone in her body. When being bullied, Alice quietly listens and will reflect on it later. She is emotional and moody. She can stay in solitude due to her introverted nature and then will become lonely and seek others. Due to the turbulent nature of her household, she has become moody, sneaky, and unpredictable. She is smart and tends to hide how clever and cunning she really is inside. When something is going wrong, she’s the first one to step in, due to having a big heart. Alice learned the hard way about making friends. She does not trust easily, although if you can win her over, she is naïve. Despite her youth, she is independent and aloof. She is resilient and determined to come back to life and enjoy it her way without any rules or anyone to tell her no. Alice lived a life of abiding by the rules up until the misfits, and now calculates everyone’s moves and intentions.
》History
Alice was born into what seemed a functional family. Their parents, Samuel and Juliette, both had great jobs, and her older brother, Gabriel, and she both got along. They went to a prestigious school and had good grades. She grew up learning French and English, although she prefers the former language. She joined the Girl Scouts with her mother as well. Julie was the primary breadwinner - until the company became bankrupt and crashed. Her mother was laid off. Her father took on two jobs to help pay for everything while her mother became a stay-at-home wife. Gabriel and she were taken out of the school where most of Alice’s friends were. They were enrolled into another school, much less prestigious and filled with riffraff.
Overly stressed, her mother turned to drinking while her father began to cheat. He’d leave early and stay out late. Gabriel began doing drugs and smoking to cope. Lonely, and unable to speak to anyone, Alice turned to school to find her self worth. She poured herself into education in hopes of making her parents proud. It didn’t work though as they couldn’t care. On the outside, their family seemed perfect as they never let out the secrets within. Their parents didn’t divorce as neither could afford to live without the other. Fights ensued, causing a chaotic household.
Alice learned independence at a young age. Her brother used to help and take care of her. Now, mostly drunk or high, he was no longer able to, which only increased Alice’s loneliness. A group of kids called the “Misfits” began taking notice in Alice’s eyes. They were popular and nobody messed with them. They were the oddballs of the school; staying indoors mainly and drinking a curious drink they’d never share with others. It was a combination of blood, mixed with fruit punch and water to dilute the taste of blood. They often caused trouble but the principal was unable to do anything: some of their parents were superintendents and on the executive board. They seemed like a close, tight knit group, something Alice craved. She began to tutor them since their grades were lower. She used this as a way in and eventually, became their friends.
Life took another turn for the worst: Gabriel committed suicide. Her parents fought more and began verbally abusing her. Devastated, Alice began turning to the Misfits for comfort. They accepted her and began to entice her with their special drink, promising it would make her stronger. Naïve, she would drink it. Something the misfits were known for were pranks, ranging from mild to life threatening. One night, they invited Alice out for some ‘fun’. They snuck out to the misfits’ leaders bakehouse. They get in a raft over the lake and are horsing around. They are yelling and pushing each other in and swimming back to the raft. One of them shoved Alice into the water as laughter ensued. The water was deep, and Alice didn’t know how to swim. She starts crying and begging them to help her. They didn’t listen and figured she was kidding. The neighbors hear and call the cops and the group scatters. Alice continued to struggle until she became fatigued and began to sink. Alice kept screaming for help relentlessly. The neighbors heard and dove in to save her. They were able to revive her and bring her back to life.
At the hospital she was treated and later released with the doctors claiming it was a miracle. Once at home she complained of being hungry, and ate nonstop. Sam and Julie gave her whatever to make her feel better and took a ceasefire on arguing. She was taken out of school as well. Her aunt and uncle visited that week to check on her. They had brought her flowers. While Julie was cutting the roses, she accidentally pricked her finger on a thorn. Blood began to drip down. Alice felt as if she were a marionette as she moved towards her mother. Starving, she began to take samples of the blood on her finger and sniff it. Appalled, her family watched as she began to drink the blood. They quickly kicked her out, claiming she was an offspring of the devil.
Now, Alice is alone, disturbed, and devastated. She is determined to find out what she is exactly, and where to go next. That is, if she can escape child services and law enforcement looking for the family’s deranged blood-drinking child.
》Vampire
Alice does not have a clan and is a loner vampire. Also, she was recently turned into a vampire.
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