Character you have created: Marcus Hardrada
Alias: Mephistopheles
Speech Color:
Dark RedCharacter Alignment: Walking The Line
Identity: Secret
Character Personality: Mephitopheles wanders the world mostly detached from the woes and pains of its people. He assists those who seem innocent, lost, or hopeless, but usually only if called upon, and only if their need is great. He takes great pride in his work, and reflects that pride in his demeanor and actions. Despite his somewhat reserved countenance, he is more than willing to throw himself into the heart of danger, seeking the thrill of combat and action that he once felt before he became the deathless being that he is. Rarely does he manage to achieve such exhilaration however, and this emptiness makes him feel more detached from the world and its people even more.
Uniform/costume:
On earth, his power to manifest clothing doesn’t allow more than simple items to blend in with modern society.
In Abaddon, his power and might allow him to manifest incredibly resilient yet magnificent armor.
Origin Info/Details:
Marcus Hardrada was born in England in 1433, where he was raised as a blacksmith in the village of Townton. He lived a quiet and content life, marrying his childhood sweetheart at the age of 18 under the eyes of God. He had a son, whom he named Brutus, and a daughter named Irisbeth. When the Wars of the Roses found their way to Townton in 1461, Marcus took up arms to defend his family. He died on the battlefield on March 29th, with a bloody sword in his hand and a spear in his throat. His family soon followed him into the afterlife.
When he fell on the battlefield, Marcus’ soul wandered to the plane of existence known only as Abaddon. There he drifted across barren, bleak fields and black bogs with creatures that could not be named or described. The landscape often changed to reflect a morbid interpretation of the world of the living, with empty cities growing into macabre imitations of man’s greatest creations. As the ages went on so did the depth of the devastation, and eventually the advent of modernization beckoned ever closer a crescendo of chaos and destruction that would consume Abaddon.
It was near the precipice of this degradation that Marcus was found, a pale, formless spirit drifting through a windless grove. The Lord of Abaddon swept him up into his home, a castle in the skies above his realm. Therein he plucked away the memories of Marcus’ dreams and loved ones, freeing him of anything that might distract him from the old one’s intentions. The elder spirit then explained to Marcus the depth of the situation that had arisen, and why he had been chosen. The lord of Abaddon was going into a deep sleep, and this land needed a shepard. Marcus was tasked with reviving this realm, and to find worthy spirits in the worlds above to aid him in this endeavour. He was given great powers, command over the land’s creatures, and lordship over any spirits who hadn't yet been corrupted by the sickness that infested Abaddon.
Finally, the lord of the barren land gave Marcus his home, the castle Harkenspyre, as he lay down to rest in eternity. As the last vestiges of power left that most ancient of spirits, so did Marcus awaken, his duty burned into his heart. He stepped forward onto solid earth for the first time in centuries, and walked through a doorway into the world above.
Hero Type (Supernatural): Spirit
Power Level (Select one below):
Street Level power on Earth with World Level power in Abaddon.
Powers (Be Specific):
Born of Death: Mephistopheles is bound to the heart of Abaddon, and so when his body is slain in the mortal world, his spirit returns there to rejuvenate, which takes anywhere from a day to a week depending on the injury. He can also return to Abaddon from the battlefield to recover from serious injuries, with something like a gunshot wound taking a couple hours. Once in Abaddon however, his spirit can truly be slain with enough effort, and it will finally pass on into the void.
Wraith Walk: Instantly creates an invisible doorway between the mortal realm and Abaddon. While in Abaddon he can teleport anywhere he desires, and since Abaddon is a (dark) reflection of the world we know, it allows him to create another doorway into our world at a desired location with near instantaneous speed. Any creature from the mortal realm brought to Abaddon will be forcibly ejected once the doorway closes, unless Mephistopheles keeps it open for them, or it is kept open by other means. Most mortal creatures that die in Abaddon become aimless spirits that wander the dark realm indefinitely.
Deathly Armaments: Can manifest medieval weapons and armor in Abaddon that’s incredibly resilient and, in the case of weapons, capable of even harming spirits. These items quickly degrade in the mortal world, usually only lasting an hour before crumbling to dust, with simpler items like clothing lasting longer.
Prince of Abaddon: Can command the native creatures of Abaddon, who obey with dog-like intelligence. The creatures will attack anyone besides Mephistopheles who they find in Abaddon, unless commanded otherwise. These creatures also crumble to dust after enough time in the mortal world, with some of the larger ones lasting a day, and the smaller ones only a few minutes.
Prince of The Fallen: Mephistopheles can see those close to death in the mortal world whilst in Abaddon, as their spirits come closer to the border between worlds. As they die, he can approach them and offer them a choice. Pledge their souls into his service, and live as a spirit in Abaddon, fighting to create a paradise in the forsaken land. They will do his bidding for the rest of time, or until they are killed, which can only be done in Abaddon. They will be able to enter the world of the living for as long as they please. However, doing so will require Mephistopheles to open a door that will only close when they return, or when the door is somehow destroyed, upon which time they will be forcefully returned to Abaddon. Opening such a door also requires Mephistopheles’ constant will, and so if he is slain and forced to return to Abaddon, the door will also close. These ‘Heroic Spirits’ will have the same stats as they had in life, but as with Mephistopheles, can only be truly killed in Abaddon.
The Power of the Dark Realm: Whilst in Abaddon, Mephistopheles gains super strength, super speed, teleportation, flight, near invulnerability, and a radar sense for anyone who enters Abaddon without invitation.
Names of Power: As a spirit, Mephistopheles can hear the call of anyone with a proper offering who invokes his name in the mortal world. He doesn’t often offer his name for this reason, as he prefers his peace and quiet. He isn’t obligated to respond to the call, but he can hear any plea that person makes as part of a prayer or ritual to him.
Attributes (Select one at each category):
Height: 5’11.
Weight: 170lbs.
Strength Level: Normal Human in the mortal world, 100+ tons in Abaddon.
Speed/Reaction Timing Level: Normal Human in the mortal world, 100+ MPH in Abaddon.
Endurance at MAXIMUM Effort: Normal Human in the mortal world, 5 hours in Abaddon.
Agility: Normal Human in the mortal, 10X in Abaddon.
Intelligence: Average
Fighting Skill: Trained in sword combat.
Resources: Minimal
Weaknesses:
Can be put out of the fight as easily as any human by a bullet or a strong enough smack upside the head while in our world. Considers the creatures and spirits of Abaddon to be his family, and would be greatly shaken to see them killed or seriously harmed. Takes personal offence when others react badly to the unspeakable horrors that are native to Abaddon, like a mother who doesn’t realize they have an ugly baby. Is unfamiliar with most modern technology and customs.
Supporting Characters:
The Old One, who gave him his power before he went to rest.
Grimlandr, son of Halmora. One of the greater spirits of Abaddon, and one of the few ones that can speak in some manner.
Do you know how to post pictures on RPG boards?:
Sample Post:
“Your name...is Mephistopheles...Your duty...as I have spoken...is to save our home...as I have spoken..save us…” The old spirit sighed as he took his seat beside the fire, and looked tiredly at man upon the hearth. The newly remade creature suddenly stirred, and his eyes came up to meet the old spirit’s for a moment, before the lord sighed one last content whisper, and faded from view.
Mephistopheles stood, his body wreathed in the blue glow of the fire. As he looked down at his naked form, he raised his perfectly smooth hands, touching his chest and face. Closing his eyes, he felt the thrum of Abaddon below him, the veins of the realm, his realm, coursing through his body. Opening his eyes, he concentrated for a moment, and a simple black leather tunic and trousers materialized on his body, along with a pair of leather boots a moment later.
He smirked to himself as he regarded the finely made material,
”I could get used to this.” He stretched his arms above his head as he enjoyed the sensations having a body afforded him. Looking down at the floor, he could tell he was high up. Through the ornate black marble and foundations of the floating castle, he could see the creatures of Abaddon, as well as a few dozen mortals who knocked on death’s door in the surrounding area. Their twinkling souls reminded him of the stars, and he again gave a small smile.
Leaving the large study room, he entered an ornate hallway, with more black marble flooring, this time with golden inlays.
‘At least I won’t have to do any refurbishing.’ he thought as he continued past several marble statues depicting some native creatures of Abaddon. The old spirit had given him his home, but neglected to tell him anything of it’s properties or layout. The question of how the place remained afloat crossed his mind, but was immediately answered by a sensation Mephistopheles equated to the steering mechanism of this place. He sensed that if he willed it, the castle would fly to whatever destination he required, and he allowed it to stay put.
‘Harkenspyre...yes the name will take some work. Perhaps something less gaudy.’ he continued to think to himself as he explored the grand citadel.
Finally finding his way to a main entrance hall, he paused and examined a portrait on the far wall of the old spirit himself. The old lord sat amidst a field of greenery, and a furry bat eared creature sat proudly on his lap. He didn’t seem any younger in the depiction, but the portrait was obviously several hundred years old at least. He considered removing the painting, but shrugged and moved on, deciding that it added character to the room.
Approaching the massive oaken doors that guarded the entrance to the castle, Mephistopheles concentrated once again, and the doors swung open at his command. A cool air breathed into the castle, but with it came a cold chill that made Mephistopheles frown in anger. Far upon the horizon, a winged creature soar toward the castle, and a tempest of brooding clouds and lightning grew in its wake. Mephistopheles waited on the precipice of the cliff leading to the entrance of Harkenspyre, his arms crossed in impatience as the creature drew ever closer. The winds picked up around the castle as the great spirit finally reached the floating fortress, and dark clouds surrounded the area. Hovering with mighty swaths of his wings, the beats bellowed through seven mouths at Mephistopheles.
“Whey arr thou Lord?!” the creature demanded, lightning crackling in it’s seven maws.
Mephistopheles opened his arms out wide,
”Where indeed Grimlandr! See before you your new lord! See now that I demand peace, you who brings anger to my hold!” Mephistopheles bared his teeth at the beast, and subconsciously adorned himself in engraved plates of armor as his anger grew.
The beast drew back as it’s wings suddenly shuddered in what appeared to be grief and remorse. The storm clouds cleared away, and the lightning fizzled from his body as he took to land on a patch of earth to the left of the entrance. The creature stood on cloven hooves almost half as tall as the main citadel, but now it knelt down to regard Mephistopheles, bringing one of its many sets of eyes to bear on the man. “Plegth mon yong lord, fogriv mein fools accured nature. I say thee hark of Abaddon now, ik eth strongr.”
Mephistopheles walked forward and ran his hand along one of the scaled snouts of the creature, bringing his head close to one of its eyes,
”Please Grimlandr, do not apologize. I know how the ancient one loved you as a child, just as he loved me and every other whom he watched over. I would grieve with you my friend, but now is not the time for sorrow. Now is the time for action. Abaddon’s future hangs in the balance, and I will need your great strength. Will you place your faith in me my Grimlandr?” The beast drew in a great gulp of air from each of his throats, and lifted his maws to the sky, bellowing one last cry of grief at the world, before lowering himself down into what Mephistopheles assumed was his attempt at kneeling,”Sev us oh lord.”
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