It's happening again. I have been visited by a soviet mad scientist, a king, a penguin prince of darkness, a house plant god thing, a mystical ancient member, a tired reaper (thank god) + a greeting.
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6 yrs ago
For the same reason Rome 2 was attacked by thousands of players who don't know what they're talking about. lleeeeeeemmmmings
XD Since Caezel is old and near the end of his life can Don haunt him just to f with him? Like he just wakes up from a good night rest and Don's at his bed side saying "Your time has come." And he's just playing with him just to see if he has a heart attack and die. v.v dark but good humor.
@Ace of Flames01 Alright boss, here's my character application! In her history I put the name of her town in italics, since I wasn't sure if you were okay with me naming it. If you don't like it or already have a list of city names just let me know and I'll be more than happy to change it!
Let me know what revisions you would like to see! ^.^
Naya Ashgrave
Child of: Darkness
Nickname: N/A
Age: 28
Gender: Female
Sexuality: Heterosexual
Relationship Status: Single
Species: Human
Occupation: Witch. Also owns an apothecary.
Likes:
Horticulture
Shiny things
Embalming tools
Forehead kisses
Grilled newt. Delicious and nutritious!
Dislikes:
Hot weather
People trying to swindle her
Bad breath
High pitched voices
Carrots. Because ew.
Fears: Being eaten by a werewolf.
Previously belonged to her mother. It can be seen strapped to her back whenever she is not working in the shop.
Also belonged to her mother. Naya only uses it for bloodletting for spells/potions
Personality: Naya doesn't actually murder people. But some spells call for certain, er, more visceral ingredients, so if someone wants to trade their dear old mum's corpse for a love spell, who is she to deny them?
It is this sort of practice that makes some people leery of the witch. It isn't an uncommon sight to come into the shop and find the body of some animal or person up on the slab, their organs floating in jars as the lithe woman serenely wipes her scarlet hands on her apron. It doesn't help that when she does her shopping she occasionally forgets to change out of her work robes and gives some poor merchant an eyeful of her bloody clothing.
Her time around the occult has made it virtually impossible for her to get squeamish at the sight of gore and her ability to joke and see humor in dark circumstances makes her a very strange human indeed. Naya is also innately curious about creatures of different races and will often badger them with all sorts of questions until both parties are exasperated.
Well, except werewolves. Those guys are terrifying.
Oddities aside, Naya is a clever girl with a sharp tongue and a wicked sense of humor. She is not easily frightened or intimidated, but is smart enough to know when to keep her mouth shut lest she upset something more fearsome than her. The witch is also a bit over protective of those she cares about and doesn't much understand the concept of personal space.
Bio: Naya was born to a hardworking witch who owned a little apothecary on the outskirts of a sleepy border town by the name of Minora. The little girl spent long days helping her mother tend the garden, grind down the herbs, and adding new recipes to their grimoire. It was a strange life, but Naya always felt loved and most importantly, she was very happy.
Her magic doesn't come in during her twelfth year like it does for most of her family, but her mother doesn't seem concerned about it. "These things take time, my girl. Your blood will wake precisely when it is supposed to," the witch told her, dropping a kiss onto her daughter's hair. "Now be a dear and fetch me my hammer. This man's skull is thicker than I thought."
Her mother dies during Naya's nineteenth summer, when a freshly turned werewolf loses control and attacks her in the market. The town folk manage to subdue the creature, but the damage is done. Naya brings her mother's body home, stores her insides, and grinds her bones, just like she would have wanted. After that the young woman takes over the apothecary, making the salves and ointments that don't require a supernatural touch.
Then in the twenty third winter of her life it happens, precisely when it needs to.
Naya is out in the forest, scraping yellow lichen off an old oak tree when her blade slips and slices open her finger. The blood oozes out of the wound, crimson rivulets landing on the bark and suddenly she feels potential and vertigo all at once. A surge of something passes through her and in the next moment the youth is on the ground, breathless and blinking up at the canopy of leaves above her. When she looks back to the tree it is utterly engulfed in the fungus and a cluster of nightshade has begun to blossom around it's base.
The magic in her blood had finally awoken, long after she had given up on it.
It's second nature after that to start honing her craft. Sure she fumbles a bit and turns a few more people into toads than she'd originally planned, but her mother's weathered grimoire guides her and by the time her twenty eighth spring comes around she's gained quite the reputation for being a talented, albeit strange, alchemist.
Extra: The palms of both of her hands are scarred from all the bloodletting she’s had to do for various spells. Does not go anywhere without her grimoire.
I can just see us getting along. Take 2 zero's off my char's age and we're peers. :P
Apologies for any errors in advance. Wanted to get this up before heading to bed and before my mind shut down completely, but today's been rather busy.
The word was familiar to Caezel, but at the same time it had an odd and slightly distasteful sound to him. Perhaps it was the fact that someone of his legacy was digging through weeds in a dense half-dead just to find one of the correct mushrooms for his latest potion. Or that he was competing with more and more young individuals that had barely passed the tender age of 200 on the arts he had been doing for centuries. Or perhaps he was just old. No, no no, he thought, shaking his head as his back popped while he leaned to brush leaves aside. Not old. Just... experienced. He picked a mushroom... a purple one with brown spots. Damn it. Not even the mushrooms grow right. Can't you bastards grow someplace just a LITTLE more convenient than right next to the border?! Throwing the under-aged mushroom aside, he kicked at the dead leaves on the ground and wrinkled his nose as the mushroom began to reek.
"Can't you damn things smell just a little better..." he growled at the spot where he threw the mushroom. At the right age, they were rather nice smelling and distinctly poisonous. He had the luck of picking one just before ripeness - not poisonous and distinctly horrible in smell, detectable by vampires and possibly fatal to humans. And only the exact texture of the spots could indicate the difference. The texture failed him. Again.
Obviously, the mushrooms were starting to lose their distinct textures too. Caezel hadn't checked his eyes in five hundred years, but he was quite confident that wasn't the problem. Or at least, he didn't want to think it was.
Putting the subject out of his mind, he walked through the forest, checking the roots of every tree. The mushrooms he was looking for grew right in that area - an area very close to the border. Despite that, he wasn't particularly concerned - his blade could finish off what his alchemy and limited spell knowledge could not. Unless it was a fairy. In which case it would turn to be a nasty brawl... though he didn't mind the concept.
He stood up very suddenly, having detected something... different. A noise, something... giggly. It was the most random noise he could have possibly heard in the context. Something very off indeed.
Moving quietly, stepping to make no sound, he came to a tall tree a few feet in front of him and slowly climbed it. He was old, but he climbed with all the grace of a stalking cat.
At the top, he saw something distinctly odd far through the branches: a strange figure in a cloak, walking through the forest, a couple hundred feet away. He could hear the footsteps of the figure, or rather the branches that were being stepped on, but he couldn't get a good enough look to see what it actually was.
He opted to stay put in the tree for the moment, watching as the figure moved forwards a little off center from his direction, keeping his eyes on its every move. If he was lucky, he could find his mushroom and feed on a new victim in one swoop. Or capture himself another experiment. Either option sounded fine to him... but first, he would have to see what came of the figure and identify it further. He didn't base his survival on being hasty.
