Avatar of Noxious
  • Last Seen: 10 mos ago
  • Old Guild Username: Noxious
  • Joined: 11 yrs ago
  • Posts: 615 (0.15 / day)
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    1. Noxious 11 yrs ago
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Status

Recent Statuses

8 yrs ago
Current I wanted lemon for the vodka so we built a greenhouse across from the library where all the books on summoning the apocalypse and proper hallucinogen etiquette sit. Sweden is lovely this time of year.
3 likes
8 yrs ago
Writer's block is a fancy term made up by whiners so they can have an excuse to drink alcohol. -Steve Martin
3 likes
9 yrs ago
I want to leave this world the same way I came in; screaming and covered in someone else's blood.
3 likes
9 yrs ago
You would rather have a Lexus, some justice, a dream or some substance? / A Beamer, a necklace or freedom? -Dead Prez
1 like

Bio




ɪғ ʏᴏᴜ ɢ ᴀ ᴢ ᴇ ʟᴏɴɢ ᴇɴᴏᴜɢʜ ɪ ɴ ᴛ ᴏ ᴛ ʜ ᴇ ᴀ ʙ ʏ s s ᴛʜᴇ ᴀ ʙ ʏ s s ᴡɪʟʟ ɢᴀᴢᴇ ʙᴀᴄᴋ ᴀ ᴛ ʏ ᴏ ᴜ



Most Recent Posts

Name
Marie-Mica Souvanelle
Gender
Female
Age
27
Faction
Three Snakes
Diety
Vodou Practicioner; assortment of beliefs from African, French and Haitian culture. She most often appeals to the Simbi (Snake & Water Loa), the Barons (Baron Samedi, La Croix, Simitye) and the Ghedes. In addition she makes offerings to Agwe (Loa spirit of the sea), Papa Legba (gate keeper to speak to the Loa), her Ancestor’s (specifically Mama Djeyma) and Jehovah and Jesus(you can never have to many friends in the spirit world).
Skills
& Main Ability to walk the crossroads, communicate with the dead and delve into the invisible world.
& Secondary Ouanga; Charms, Amulets, Herbs and Potions of protection and harm.
& Secondary Combat; respectable skills in hand to hand combat and with a knife.
Background
WIP
Okay. I have worked out a lot of mine and I will have a WIP up. I'm still debating on her past a tad bit so that would be the only thing I haven't entirely worked out. :D
I just wanted to say I flushed out my personality. I didn't want to appear to be to much like others and I also didn't want to leave her personality on the "angry at the Gods" thing because I don't think that is the most important part of her. I added to what I already had (the last paragraph is all the changed) and made a TL;DR summary at the end. :D I am working on figuring out relationships with people so if anyone has anything they want to discuss feel free to PM me.
I am open for relationship discussion, though most relationships would be easier as enemies or simply resourceful on occasion. I am down for someone to have been involved in the murder of her children so she could harbor a special hatred. The Dreamers would have the best chance of being a little closer to good because sharing knowledge in dreams would benefit her influence. HELLIS. I want us to be friends. <3

Name/Titles:
Dihira, the Dark Librarian, the Serpent of Knowledge, Mistress of the House of Books, Mother of Serpents, Mother of Monsters

Gender:
Female

Patronage:
Knowledge, Learning/Study, Memory, Secret Knowledge (including ancient/lost spells), Blackmail, and reptiles in a loose sense. (she is responsible for this symbolism of reptiles hoarding in a nest and guarding treasures, metaphorically, as well as the serpent in the garden that tempted with forbidden knowledge.)

Parentage:
Dihira is a divine entity born of a forbidden liason between her father, Svanus the Greenfather, a primal deity of the woods that long since has passed, and Iora, a queen of trolls and the like, still worshiped but of little power.

Pantheon/Affiliation:
Deity, but one that only loosely owes her allegiance to Aroesus and Krona. She is technically one of them, but is an outsider.

Appearance:
She normally appears as a half serpent/half woman(though her skin retains a greenish tint, most likely inherited from her mother); but can take the pure form of a serpent with a multitude of size variations.

Centres of Worship/Places of Power:
Dihira has no specific centers of worship, such as an actual city devoted to her, but most scribes, scholars, wise women and others of that bent, the seekers of knowledge, at least offer a token of goodwill in small altars to her honor. These places tend to be well hidden, in alcoves and knots of trees, in underground grottoes. Dihira's worshipers often fear persecution, because they know things and those with knowledge and strange ways to the ignorant are often the scapegoats of others in their hysteria. It is sufficient so say that she is not the ruler of a city, but rather a widely but quietly revered figure in the pantheon.

On the planes, she inhabits the tree Athosvid which has roots in the firmament between Hevas and Malebazus and is present in both planes. It allows her to move along this narrow channel between the two planes. She sees no need to move beyond this limited area, and the tree itself is, according to legend, possessed of interesting, though terrible powers. In Hevas, the tree bears a flower whose petals soothe aches and pains, though too much creates a dependency. In Malebazus, the bitter fruit of the tree brings on a terrible knowledge, at a price of one's sanity, which is chipped away with every bite. Such is the price of knowledge. Dihira’s father, Svanus, dead and dreaming form makes up the heart of the tree where his bones entwine with the horticultural feat. Somewhere in the caverns within Athosvid (yes, large enough to hold caverns) is a great library that she slithers through eternally, though even she hasn't been able to read everything in her library -- though she would never admit that to any other being.

Servants, Prominent Followers and Worship Base:
Scholars, wise women and others that thirst for knowledge. Musicians are known to be pleasing to her, particularly those musicians in certain places that coax snakes out of baskets with their flutes -- she likes that they make a show of the flute play when it's actually their movement and the stamping of their feet that bring these snakes out. Dihira loves irony. Among her followers are people that would kill and be killed for their knowledge, and so she is often paid tribute by those that value such things. Those that trade in secrets pay her considerable homage. Dihira's worshipers are not an army, but they are in many places.

Within the tree reside the Knowles which are small insect like creatures of rumored high intelligence. They gather knowledge from both planes. The Knowles are said to have been born with the tree and thus predate Dihira. They don’t speak and seem to have a psychic connection with Dihira for no one else has been seen to communicate with them. They do, without a doubt, communicate amongst themselves.

The tree is also home to Corks. As the library grew so did the number of Corks. The little rodent like tree dwellers seem to have a bond with literature and they help to maintain the library. It is assumed that the creatures have a grasp of written language. While the tree is their main point of residence they are occasionally glimpsed around other large collections of literature.

TL;DR Psychology:
Dihira is a serpent, and therefore appreciates that knowledge often can have a bite to it. She doesn't merely enjoy knowledge that is on the up and up, dead languages and reputable sorts of studies, she also adores darker types of lore that ranges from secret histories of famous rulers (often unflattering to said ruler) to blackmail material, items best left destroyed and other such things. The items tend to range from amusing songs about tyrants long dead that were sung in secret, to accounts of religions practiced in secret despite persecution to the most disgusting and horrible experiment results possible. She relishes information and secrets, but also enjoys a good tale -- what pleases her most is the application of knowledge, the working of intelligence to overcome problems. And so she favors the subtle approaches, the cunning innovations and is a lover of creativity. But as a reptile, albeit a divine reptile, at heart, she is invested in her own survival and her own needs above others -- so while she may be able to dispense information, it often comes at a price.

As it were, she has a soft spot for humanity -- they were a bunch of hairy cave dwellers that figured out knowledge, often at great risk to themselves, and hoarded it. What plants to eat, how to make a spear, how to hunt a beast. She still enjoys humanity, though some humans have lost that creative spark that made them so special to her, and so she stopped doling out quite so many hints these days. Some mortals retain her favor, but it is often the ones that use cunning to their advantage, that use what's between their ears.

With the imprisonment and death of her husband and the attempted genocide of her children a corruption set into her mind, feeding into an obvious dislike and distrust for the majority of the Gods. This didn’t make her as resentful and hateful as one may believe, at least not on a permanent basis. Perhaps her lack of outward rage can be attributed to the calming influence of Svanus. Immortality effects the Gods differently. She possesses a wandering mind that often rambles but can slip extremely private knowledge into her off the wall conversations so it is worth paying attention. It can be absolutely aggravating to need a specific answer from Dihira. Questions are usually met with veering conversations that have nothing, or a subtly everything, to do with the question. This may be in part because she wants people to find their own answers, or she doesn’t want them to have the answer and she refuses to lie. While being extremely intelligent these qualities often make her appear naive and crazy; whether or not this is intentional is her own secret.

Psychology
Appreciates all knowledge; from the demented to the divine.
Knowledge often comes at a price, for ultimately she is self-serving.
Admires humans; specifically the creative, the innovators, the knowledge seekers.
Distrusts the Gods.
Has a rambling and wandering mind/conversation. Appears Crazy.
Does not lie and believes that needing to lie is a weakness of mind.

History:
As her arrival into this world pressed forward, her mother, the Troll Queen, worried for the fate of her child; being that she was born of a forbidden liaison to a dying father and a mother who could not hope to protect her from the wrath of the Gods. Her father, tragically in tune with his dying shell made a deal with Athosvid and took the fetus of his daughter into his mind and aligned his own bones with heart of the great tree. His daughter’s growth continued in this solace, nibbling at the mind of her father and absorbing the unnatural venoms that coursed through the tree.

As humanity evolved and knowledge made them more than they were originally, so did Dihira gain considerable power and prestige. She did not entice the typical heroes; bronzed, chiseled and built for battle. Her heroes usually wore their greatness within, but they were heroes nonetheless and they did come. They were determined and strong willed, or filled with folly and hungry for truths that they could rarely stomach. Old women with crippled and knotted muscles would find the courage or need to climb amongst the flowers in search of Dihira. Young men puzzled and lost would seek refuge amongst the caverns, but it was known that in seeking Dihira death would be the pleasant loss, for insanity beckoned strongly and the knowledge she offered had easily claimed more addicts than the flowers.

Her power grew and so did her confidence and sustainability so that when the first great monster, a chaotic and misunderstood beast of terrifying beauty, came calling she was helpless from her heart. Titalarus was an old being, born of the chaos of creation and marginalized as a dying necessity. They were united under the love of truth and certainty that resounded from their allegiance to nature; Titalarus and Dihira, father and mother of monsters and serpents.

Their union caused a brow raise from the other Gods, but as their children began to roam the realms a true fear gripped at the Gods. From their unification came the hoarding dragons, the basilisks guarding treasure and secrets alike, and serpents of many degrees. The birthed the great Hydra, the Chimera and the Gorgons of legends passed. In the beginning her children, specifically the Gorgons, taught and shared knowledge with people, teaching them ancient secrets that the Gods guarded as special. The voices of the Gods grabbed and grated at the ear of Aroesus, complaining of the union, complaining of the offspring and rallying for justice. Something had to be done.

It was Titalarus that was first singled out by Aroesus. He knew that something so primal and vicious could not be allowed to roam free and so he offered Titalarus a deal, conform to the pantheon or be forever enslaved and fractured beneath Mount Hismues. Aroesus had no intention of allowing the beast to live, but he knew with utmost certainty that the offer would be refused. A mallet was taken to the frozen form and true to his word Aroesus fractured and buried Titalarus beneath the mountain. It was after this that he approached Dihira and he had hopes; she was knowledgeable and resourceful, she would conform. Dihira, still hissing and tense with rage at the imprisonment of her husband offered only a maniacal laugh in the face of “their” leader.

Aroesus urged her to reconsider as the culling of her children began. With her second refusal he took the voice from the Gorgons and the extermination continued. Dihira felt helpless and perhaps for the first time in her life, she felt fear. She went to Nihris, kin of her husband, and pleaded with her to hide her children. Nihris was sympathetic, but she had already seen how this plays out and she cautioned Dihira that it would do no good, that the God King was merciless and the only way to save her children would be to submit, for now. So when Aroesus returned to Dihira, her head hung low, she bargained her allegiance if only they would spare her children. It was now Aroesus turn to laugh for no promises would be set in stone. He did agree to speak with the others and Dihira knew that was the best she could expect from the frivolous and impulsive bunch.

A deal was struck. It is said that as she mourned for her loss the tree mourned with her, increasing the negative effects associated with both the fruit and flowers. Since then her moments of joy have been few and far between, though existent. There was a cruel uplifting passion as she watched the Gods eat the fruit of Malebazus, especially Aroesus. Exceptional humans could also claim a piece of her happiness and she openly cooed with delight as they asked the unanswerable questions and sought knowledge.

Relationships:

& Nanaeios (Asuras)
& Mikazliqui (Dead Cruiser)
& Morios (MelonHead)
& Vael and Nys (Ruby)
& Metanoia (Crazy Guy)
& Dareos (Squrmy)

& Nihris (The Fair Lady) Titalarus, Dihira’s husband, was the elder brother of Nihris, born an outcast by misfortune, his siblings always seemed to have a soft spot for him, and he for them. Nihris was present at their union, braving a happy face for the couple. Nihris was the first, and only, that Dihira went to out of fear for her children when threatened by the God King because Nihris had suffered through the same. She feels indebted to the woman and they share a common bond of loss and hatred. Dihira has to be weary of spending too much time with Nihris because the woman’s sullen nature quickly rubs off on her, with obvious reason, and they often begin plotting. She finds it thrilling and painful to go down that road, especially when they both feared Aroesus.

& Lefredias (Hellis) The God's dominion over change, uncertainty and rebellion would occasionally intersect with her goals. Where they would disagree is in the way rebellions should be handled. While Lefredias calls for blood, she attempts to persuade him to use knowledge as a form of rebellion. He has come to her and asked for knowledge that will help drive a rebellion (dirty secrets on the rulers, weapons knowledge) and while she isn't always forthcoming with what he wants, she often gives him a piece of what he needs. She has also traded favors with him for his interaction and protection of the knowledge seekers whom come under disfavor of their rulers and are persecuted for their beliefs. She subtly encourages his interest in her to fulfill her needs of protecting her own followers. While uncertainty can led to seeking knowledge they are entirely at odds when his followers grow complacent with their uncertainty. He challenges her with uncertainty often and they do enjoy good conversation.

& Eskellon (ActraiserTheReturned)

& Sileon (HeySeuss) After the butchering of her children her rage toward Sileon was palpable, though even this paled in comparison for her rage against Aroesus. She was intelligent enough to know that Sileon was more a force of nature than a cruel force. Her conversations with Svanus quelled her anger as her father explained that his brother did as he was told, and following directions was the closest form of right and wrong she could expect. Over the years her feelings towards the God became more of reverent distaste than any sort of rage or hatred. They were natural oppositions, knowledge and pure natural action. She thought Sileon to be dull when it came to intelligence, but did not want to fall to the man's bad side again. She kept the secret of Svanus from Sileon, waiting until the right moment to play the card of withholding/offering the fearful God solace from his (only?) surviving brother.

& Phoebeus (Benevolette)
& Lathunis (singmesweetly)
& Mysia (Zacharius)
As the sun dove down and the stars shone through, glittering with a hint of red from the multitude of campfires springing up from the camp, they attempted to settle in. The wargs broke into smaller packs, sleeping in piles, restless in the night and wrestling with the pull of the moon. They were sensitive to the slight noises and soft chatter that hummed about the impatient camp. It was good. There was a point you had to reach with nerves; heightened and paranoid from lack of sleep and anticipation, but not fried. Some would fry themselves, the Orcs. She’d seen it in other battles, though the images barely nibbled at her dreams due to the commonality of all races to lose their edge in battle. But not the wargs. They drifted in and out, not requiring a steady block of sleep. There were times you would glimpse a warg, deep in sleep, and they would almost seem like a tender pet. Their legs kicked sporadically , half dreaming of the chase, but muscles still active due to subconscious awareness. A gentle whimper may rise up and add to the sweet image their sleep painted. Then one’s thick head would rise up, startled from their dream and snap heavily with unnatural jaws, shaking the already fragile notion of “sweet”. On occasion a warg howl from the not so distant would rouse a bit of the pack. Their ears would perk for a moment and then they would huff and reposition themselves. And this is how Mutt passed her night, Orc-lithe form barely visible curled amongst the wargs.

The sky still spoke the promise of darkness when she began to prepare for battle. Her back leaned heavy, though almost unnoticed, against a warg, Mazorn, that was still feigning sleep like a young recruit trying to get out of battle. She was purposefully ungraceful with her elbows as she prepared and Mazorn grunted his disapproval at the little thing, though they both seemed accustomed to the ritual. She swept deep black dreads from her back, tying them up with leather. Her hair pulled back exposed the shaved right side of her head, stained red with color of her company. The blood red stain laced across her stoic expression, branching into an intricate pattern of a warg’s jaw superimposing her own. Boots and gloves were pulled on and laced tightly with more leather before she stood. The warg opened one eye to watch her as she pulled open her pack and pulled on armor. The armor was snug and patched together with hide and appeared to have been stitched together with her form in mind, and it should, for it had been battered and repaired upon her very chest. Mazorn bristled and began to rise to his feet. He stretched the sleep from his muscles and seemed to prance, if a demon was ever seen to prance, for a moment as the blood began to flow. His huge muzzle hit at her back and she lurched forward before turning with a low growl that almost seemed to fade into a giggle. Now was not the time to play, though there was a giddy energy before battle amongst their pack. Both of Mutt’s fingerless gloved hands found the sides of his jaw and she pressed her face into his, rumbling something from her chest. The warg responded with a snort but lowered his shoulders just a tad and sauntered off to the others. She tossed a quiver of arrows, as well as a bow across her shoulders and then strapped katars to her thighs where she could easily equip them while on her mount.

There was no need for breakfast; that would come soon enough.

The camp was barely stirring when a low but stern call to Mazorn united the odd pair. She ran her fingers over the well maintained coat before her body was pitched upwards, lying almost flat against the huge beast. They were joined by Grul and Bulak, who were younger wargs, but not untried in battle. The four began a slow circling pattern towards the Achnal camp, staying downwind and merely observing. There seemed to be a communal grunt of disapproval from the group at the lackadaisical attitude that exuded from the Achnal’s humans. It would have been like any other twilight romp, save for the increasing eagerness pooling within them. When Koloch lead the others closer they met and fell in stride, fully awake and almost twitching. She was sitting up as she made eye contact with a few of the chosen, offering a nod in greeting.

When the call was given and Koloch’s mount took the wall, she followed them into the fray. As the other Orcs and wargs pushed forward she hung back; still sitting tall on Mazorn with bow and arrow ready. She watched as their path became defined with the deep red of fumbling humans, her once stoic expression cocked into a sly smile as she targeted the few humans flanking the prince and Koloch. As soon as the prince slipped from her sight she lowered her body flat against the warg, her mouth tucked close to Mazorn’s ear that fluttered back in attention. Mutt’s eyes were open and alert, darting and focusing quickly in the dying night, and becoming meer slits of focus as the day broke, red on the horizon. Without the noises of the surrounding battle you would be able to make out what sounded like a storm; thunder of a rumbling growl and then a yip striking both of them into action. The warg coiled and leapt to the nearest roof. The sharper than spear claws of Mazorn dug into the thinly thatched roof and the soft snapping sounds of the big bad wolf threatened the weak structure. They gave the roof no time to realize it’s inferiority and bounded forward upon the rooftops, keeping the prince ahead. Resistance was growing for the pressing Orc group as the humans attempted realization. As they dove over a makeshift walkway in the Achnal camp, 3 humans raised their heads. Mutt turned with the bow, exhaling like they taught her, rising just enough to be steady and fired an arrow straight into the unprotected throat of one of the men. Her aim was nothing exceptional, but her comfort on a warg exceeded her skill and the arrow found it’s home. His face would be forever frozen in dumb surprise, but at least he wouldn’t be shamed in old age.

The weak roofs of the prince’s people were beginning to give way to peaked tents of the infiltrating human horde. Mazorn, attempting to hold the high ground, leapt to a stone wall. They would have maintained this route, but their position was no longer a surprise and arrows and spears began to brave their path. They turned down, jumping into the already blood drenched path of the prince and Koloch. Mutt could hear her fellow warriors and their cries of bloodlust heightened her excitement. As soon as Mazorn and Mutt landed, her hands dug into the katars and gripped the fierce weapons in the same fluid movement as her dismount. The humans they had jumped into were now faced with a snarling Orc and her mount. They had no time to even think of screaming, but as her Katar ripped into the abdomen of the closest man the sharp and sour smell of urine reached her nose. The smile remained as blood freckled her green cheeks and she jumped back on Mazorn. He had made quick and thoughtless work of the other humans and seemed to mirror her giddy expression. Mutt’s eyes skipped across her view plane as she jumped back onto the warg, a little surprised by the lack of momentum this tryst has built for her. As they bounded forward for the prince a man rushed from their 3 O’clock, slamming his head into the blood coated nose of Mazorn’s snout. There was a still moment of shock as the man turned to look at the also stunned Mazorn. The human’s face contorted from fear to pale disbelief, visible for only a moment until the warg regained its composure and clamped his jaws down on the brittle neck. Just then Grul and Bulak came looping around the corner, looking a bit miffed as the man fell headless at the groups feet.

“Chuik chuik,” she clucked at them with a tone both ecstatic and ferocious. They broke apart, each following with the path of the prince but darting to his flank right and center, with Mazorn and Mutt rushing to the left. More loud clucking yips came from her as they darted between the tents, grabbing at the stragglers and the wounded with merciless jaws. They moved quickly, Mutt hoping to break in front of the Prince and Koloch to clear their way, but this left many humans limbless, gutless, groaning and bellowing as their bowels and pain tolerance released. The haste of their movements did not promise death. As the prince came into view she let out an unsettling howl, something more animalistic and disturbing than the orcs usually muster, but that was amplified by the wargs that joined in. Grul and Bulak neared the prince, protecting the awkward warg rider as best they could without denying themselves the pleasure of flesh.

Mutt and Mazorn pushed on, plunging towards the sentries. They leapt towards the group of four, which was aware and looking more prepared than most of the humans they stumbled upon. Mutt once again abandoned her mount, hands slipping into the Katars and snapping her wrists so that they flared out into 3 warg like claws. This was not their first hunt and like a pack they knew their targets. Mazorn reared, dodged the humans slashing sword and came down while he was in the back swing. His teeth ripped into the man’s fleshy shoulder with no more difficulty than a butcher knife through butter. The whole situation would have been laughable had their numbers not been so great. As Mazorn felled one, two of the other humans turned to face the snarling warg, praying for the strength of numbers. The fourth man was entertaining Mutt, pacing about in an attempt to put her between him and his comrades, but Mutt had little to no patience for this dance. She dove down in a blink, fingertips pressing into the ground, already crimson from the butter boy, and then launched upward into his underbelly with both hands forward. The man swung, finding his sword captured in the grips of the Katar and ironically easing the already unfair advantage. Mutt straddled the gasping man, his heavy breaths scattering blood across his own face. She got to a knee and stood, angle ripping the katars from his chest as she did. She spun on the two men that were moving succinctly towards Mazorn and her eyes, slitted in the sun, met his. The two men lunged at Mazorn. The warg went for the neck of the man on the right and Mutt drove her katars, knuckle deep, into the other man’s back. She had to shake out her wrists to get the man’s pulpy form to fall from the Katars, but Mazorn was cherishing this kill, thick dark tongue wrapping around a decapitated midsection. With the blood lapping at her feet with the same rhythm as Mazorn’s tongue she turned back to search for the others.
I'm working on my post at the moment. :D Great posts all around so far. I'm excited about our group and the variation in character. nomnom <3
I actually like the idea of keeping it somewhat small; 4 or 5 people would be nice. Keeps people more interested and in tune with what is going on.
User Name: Noxious; some call me Nox or Noxxi
Join Date: Original 2011

RP interests/Genres/Categories:
High Fantasy, Low Fantasy, Dark, Gritty, Lovecraftian (Tentacles & Lore bitches), Demons/Angels/Grigori, gray area of morality, Psychology, Mythology, Original Stories…I’m not big into Fandoms, though if anyone is into Amory Wars setting let me know. :D I also enjoy text based tabletop from time to time (VtM, Shadowrun, Cyberpunk2020 ect.).

Past & Present RPs

Other Information:
I’ve been roleplaying on and off for about 18 years. I started sandbox in Rhy’Din. I work in LEED bldg/zero waste events. I drink wine out of solo cups. I’m from Humboldt County, you know…or you don’t. ;)

Contact:
Gmail: oxo.noxious@gmail.com
Discord: Nox #6963

If anyone is looking for some feedback, input or just help navigating the site I would be more than happy to help you out. I don’t bite.
We may have to dig for a bit more interest, but I am pretty solid with my character. Need to get it all typed up and posted.
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