Enzayne

Dark Streets

I'm toying with a grounded occultist/witch down on their luck

Dark Streets

Consider me interested! Noir is the spice of life.

A Tale of Blood and Fog

I am gonna withdraw my interest. Starting to get a little crowded for me, and I'm the eternally busy one. Gonna keep watching your progress, though!

A Tale of Blood and Fog

I am interested :)

Star Wars: The Beat (closed)

Are you still taking applications? If so, I'm interested in giving it a go.

Priest & Hawthorne Investigations - A Modern Fantasy Adventure!

Here is my application. I hope it's sufficiently tasty.

Jennifer Winters, The Doppelganger

Name: Jennifer Winters – She also has a ‘true’ name.

Gender: Female

Species: Mirror Phantom

Age: Appears to be in her late 20’s. In actuality, she has existed for approximately 3 years.

Appearance:

Jennifer takes the shake of a relatively young and athletic Caucasian woman. To the casual observer, she wears her shoulder-length sand-blonde hair tied back, and light brown eyes finish a set of modestly sharp facial features. She’s not much taller than the average person. She usually – nearly always – wears faded jeans and a brown bomber jacket with an Air Force patch, with a long beige scarf wrapped around her neck.

The longer you look, however, the more this original image distorts. Her skin seems to shimmer and lose its tone, her eyes slowly fill out to become black voids and her hair loses its luster. Her features will twist and turn gaunt – even sharp as bone. Blinking, or looking away for a brief time, will dispel this trick of the light.

Personality

Jennifer is a collected, reasoning individual. Bordering on anxiety, she will ponder any predicament thoroughly before taking any action if left alone. When rushed, she will not hesitate to act, but will not move with the same determination she would if she had the time to prepare. She is a generally calm and friendly addition to a group, and does her best to fit in with others, although this same easy-going style may come off as a lack of personality or social ambition. She isn’t overly jovial however, and often straight the point. She does not particularly like violence, and is hesitant to harm – and particularly kill – others. She is forthright and honest; lying appears to cause her discomfort.

Powers, Traits, and Abilities

As a being closely tied to mirrors and presence, Jennifer displays traits present in some folklore. She has no real apparent shadow; even in strong light, her shadow is a soft blur at best. She has no reflection in basic mirrors. Furthermore, in recordings and photographs, her form is extremely hard to capture: she comes through particularly blurry and troublesome for professionals everywhere.

When close to a mirror, Jennifer can step through it to the other side, something that should by all accounts be impossible. She will appear in the mirror as though she was being reflected in the same place in the room. Through exerting her willpower, she can move from one mirror to another. This is generally limited to the same building, on account of the labyrinthine nature of her place of origin. One can summon Jennifer to a specific place by performing a specific ritual in front of a mirror. The ritual is not unique to her, unless her true name is used.

Finally, she is able to bring others in or out through mirrors. Doing so will actively drain the other person’s vitality. The Place Beyond The Mirror is not for the faint of heart.

She is terrible at Ski-Ball, but enjoys social activities. She is very intrigued by movies and vlogs.

Background

The candlelight flickered restlessly as she took her time, poring over the weathered pages of the tome a final time. Dusting the attic had taken a back-seat to cosplaying in grandfather’s old gear and flipping through discarded antiques. Jennifer sighed to herself, pausing on an archaic table of symbols to pour herself some more wine. None of this was even legible. She recognized the written Latin, but even that was barely a third of the page. The rest of it was just squiggles. The occasional ‘real’ word would show up in the margins.

She flipped through a few more pages, contented to look at the ancient depictions of old seals, symbols and what she could only conclude were snake demons. She finished her third glass of wine and set the glass aside, glancing up at the dusty old mirror that sat on the opposite side of the room. A grand old thing; gilded and large enough to swallow a six-foot-tall man. How they got it up here in the first place mystified her. It’d cost a fortune to get someone to pick it up. She should call the realtor, see if there were anything they’d do.

Jennifer pushed to her feet, a single hand on the heavy tome. Her fingers strained under the sudden weight, and her brief buzz is tested with the sudden focus required. Her fingers sent a jolting ache up through her wrist. A loud rip as the old paper tore, and a loud boom as the old tome crashed back to the ground on its spine, the ancient binding coming undone and scattering yellowed paper everywhere. She sighed heavily and slowly set about recovering the pages.

Almost done, she staggers over to collect a gloriously illustrated page. Beams of light spray through a doorway, and strike a very muscular man. Under the illustration, a simple verse in Latin. The words seem to call to her, as beautifully written as the page is drawn. Smiling sheepishly to herself, Jennifer read the words aloud.

“Te rogamus spiritus Veritas aperire viam. Ego ambulare ad iter ad virtutem. Sacrifice et ad conteram sigillum.”

A sudden crash of glass erupted about her, and she dropped her collected pages with a startled half-scream. No, wait. She’d knocked her wineglass over when shambling about. Cheeks flushing with embarrassment, she was just about to set to a new task of cleaning when something else caught her eye. A motion. A shadow. Something shifted in the poor view of the dusty old mirror. Jennifer glanced behind her but no, she was still alone. She glanced back at the mirror – there it was again.

Against her better judgement, she wandered over to the mirror. Swept her hand slowly over the surface to clear the worst of the dust. A chill rode down her spine, the air grew cold, and she immediately let go of the mirror.

“Hello,” issued a voice from behind her, giving her another start. Jennifer turned her head, and widened her eyes with fear as the appearance of the creature dawned on her. Black, sinewy, jagged. It was a featureless corpse, an attack on all she knew was right. It tilted it’s head, skipping towards her with disjointed motions.

Jennifer recoiled. Cornered against the mirror, she raised her hands defensively and threw a sidelong stare towards the stairs. “What are you? Stay away from me!” The creature stopped at her demand. Perhaps it would let her go. To her horror, it began to shift. Out of the sinew grew the jacket she wore. The long black strands became paler and warmer, until they matched her hair. Its face warped slowly, filling out with life to reflect her own.

“I have been called.” It responded, tilting its head in the same way she knows she does. Jennifer tore at her own hair in thoughtless despair, throwing her gaze around. That’s when she saw it. The ceiling did no longer exist. It was a void of repeating images. Shifting darkness. Like a mirror trick in the void. She pushed to the side, and realized the same was true for the walls. The being made no attempt to stop her as she barreled for the stairs. Glancing down, she saw the same horror unfold below. She stared back at the creature watching her. That’s when she saw the mirror again. Clean. Untouched by age or use. On the other side lay her shattered glass and the sprawled pages. The pages were no longer on the floor in here. Only in the mirror.

“How do I get out of here? Back.. there?” She managed eventually, staring up at... the fake version of herself. The creature watched her intently, as if drinking in every syllable and motion. Eventually it deigned to speak again.

“I can take you there,” it said, slowly finding the rhythm to mimic her. It was like listening to a recording. A disturbing impersonation.

“But it will cost you.”

Priest & Hawthorne Investigations: A Modern Fantasy Adventure

I'm also interested!

Catalyst Club: The Trading Card Game RP (2nd Reboot)

Aaaah! Card games and anime! I could not be more interested if I tried. :o

The Patriarch's Return

Also interested. Will toy with a CS for a pixie (go team forest) or a dragon.

The Depths of Blackmire Keep - Dare You Enter?

@Chicken

So, this is my character. I think it's ready for inspection now. I accept hatred as valid criticism.

Eira

NAME: Eira Iskander of Blackwall
SEX: Female
AGE: 27 (Youth)
HOMELAND: The Kingdom of Abagon
BACKGROUND: Noble

TRAITS:

Dauntless: Eager to shoulder the weight of the world, Eira faces most situations with steely determination and focus, no matter the cost.

Determined: Eira may not be the greatest fighter or athlete, but she will keep fighting with fervor until she collapses. One can always be tired later.

Danger Sense: Constantly throwing herself into the worst of situations has left Eira with a natural sense of when things are about to go sour.

FLAWS:

Obsessive Altruist: Sold on the concept of helping those that are unable to help themselves, Eira cannot help but intervene in the plights of others, even at the cost of her own sanity and well-being.

PROFICIENCIES (12 + 3)

Folklore: Rank I (1)
Command: Rank I (1)
Diplomacy: Rank II (3)
Tactics: Rank I (1)
History: Rank I (1)
Mathematics: Rank I (1)
Healing: Rank I (1)
Polearms: Rank III (6)

PERSONALITY:
Eira is a determined romantic for an era of heroism and chivalry that appears to only ever have existed in the books of her upbringing. She longs for a time when the seemingly endless wars are ended, and the people no longer need to fear for their life, whether it be from their own liege, their neighbors, or the strange monsters in the dark. Deeply enamored with the stories of local saints and folk heroes, Eira strives to be a beacon of hope for as many as she can, even as she slowly loses that same hope for a changed world herself. She will insert herself into conflict and arguments, and most often tries to see the good in all men and women, no matter their background. She is loathe to kill and not particularly prone to violence, but will do what she must to do what she considers right – which often correlates directly to the morals of chivalry, however misguided. Once she has settled on the ‘right’ path, it will take a miracle to shift her crusade for justice.

PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION:
With lightly tanned skin, sandy blonde hair cut to shoulder length, and light-brown eyes, Eira looks as much a northerner as one can while still having mixed heritage. She is a respectable 5’7”, and carries herself with a trained military stance. She is rarely without bruises or cuts, and is permanently marred by a scar over her right eye.

EQUIPMENT:
Eira proudly adorns herself with a fine set of plate mail that looks as much ceremonial as it is functional, still etched with the sigils of the Celestial Church and her own family’s crest. It has seen better days, but sees enough attention to remain in relatively good shape. Overall, it affords her almost full protection – she dumbly appears to own no helmet, however.
For a weapon, Eira wields a broad partisan spear with the same sigil, no doubt a prized possession.
She carries with her a set of camping supplies and rations, as well as oils, a hammer and a few other tools to make simple maintenance on her gear.

HISTORY:
Growing up in Abagon as a young noble girl should not be particularly difficult – and indeed, one may say it wasn’t for Eira. Afforded the luxuries one might expect, and an education and upbringing dedicated almost wholly to the Celestial Church, she quickly grew accustomed to grand stories about mighty, just heroes and the inescapable moral truth of the faith.

It began with her father playing along to satiate an increasingly restless young woman, visiting villages, hearing their issues and taking it upon themselves (and a contingent of men) to solve these carefully vetted problems. It was not enough. She wished to tour the land, help those that could not fight for themselves, take after the great heroes of old.

It was madness, of course, but her parents complied. Fitted her in armour worth a fortune and trained her rigorously before they let her go. She’d tour the land, realize it was not all that, and come right back home. That was the plan. There was time for marriage and solid ground yet.

Her month-long venture became six. Half a year became a full cycle of seasons. When she finally returned home, she would speak of nothing but her time in the world. Then the infighting begun, and family and soldier alike fled east. They would seek refuge in Carise, amongst father’s allies beyond the border.

It did not take long for Eira to leave, after they found safety outside the Kingdom. They made her promise not to go back. Iskander was a toxic name in the west now, and Blackwall presumably stood no longer. Still, she wanted to do right in the world. With only a tentative promise of employment from a group of travelling merchants, she set back out into the world, ready to save it.