Noxious

Illuminati: Becouse the world won't run itself. [Light Hearted, Conspiracy, Urban Magic, Dark Humour]

Talulah

_{T A L U L A H B L U M E}

^{H U M A N R E S O U R C E S ⇷⇸ # 2 7 1 - 6 8 6 - 4 2 1}

<sub>In a society obsessed with original aesthetic
we replicate symbols buried with ideas and dig
up clumps of the old gods and mix them with
E D M in a garbage can and chase them down
with home brewed whiskey and fair trade
lattes in our cramped apartments in renovated
ghettos built over d e a d civilizations that had
more originality than all of our blogs combined.
And surprisingly, it is this that creates our new
age witches. Power cramped into skinny jeans
wrapped in bullshit capitalism that pretends it
isn’t while it rallies against the man with spells
typed out on the n e w e s t macbook.

Then one day you wake up and you are the man.
-Talulah Blume "Blog of a Blood Witch"</sub>

^{"Either spend l e s s than $10 or m o r e than $75,
for in between is where the consumer soul goes to die"}

A g e & A p p e a r a n c e

On the verge of 28 and she doesn't like talking about it. She was raised on the pulse of fashion in NY and her wardrobe can attest to this, as well as her (usually empty) wallet. She prefers classic romantic styles and boho fashion. Skinny jeans, pencil skirts, flowing crop tops, button up blouses or ratty band shirts with obscure bands no one has heard of. She has a slim figure thanks to a mostly raw and organic diet and appears rather healthy, if not a little blood drained from time to time. She favors heels to add to her 5'6" height but owns plenty of sandals and custom keds. Her hair is bleached blonde with just enough dark roots to be fashionable and she often wears it down, sometimes with a braided pintrest style. Other times she puts it up in a well calculated "messy" bun. Her eyes are a pale blue and always wrapped in make-up. Seeing the future means she's never caught without it. She has a myriad of tattoos and piercings and the collection continues to grow.

^{"Man, we don't do a company wide blood drive...."
"Well then why the fuck did she ask fo- ooh, fuck"}

P e r s o n a l i t y

Smoker, drinker, elitist. She initially comes off as caring, sensitive and self conscious, but like many things under the Illuminati’s wing, appearances can be quite deceiving. She would have turned on her best friend for an invitation to an underground party before her current employment, and now, well now just hope you don’t stand in the way of something she wants. She doesn’t play fair, and she doesn’t have to, not with Hekate’s blessing. While she does care what people think, she has no problem attempting to invalidate their opinions if they upset her. Surprisingly, she is still very good at making friends and has plenty, though it is doubtful any one person knows all her true feelings and thoughts. She likes, and promotes, the idea that she is just a spoiled one dimensional hipster, but it is likely all of this is part of a wall she’s built up so as not to expose her true self. For someone who appears well put together she is an extremely disorganized person and still extremely messy with sacrifices.

^{"It was that little dicked asshole Elliot in R&D that started that rumor.
No one in my family was f u c k i n g some underworld nymph."}

B r i e f H i s t o r y

She was born and raised in Brooklyn, NY with her exceedingly dull mother and father. An only child, they spoiled the girl and so she has always felt that she was special. But really, she was just your average hipster in art school until she stumbled across this random book on one of her many thrift store visits. At first she thought it was a journal until she decided to get the totally unique symbol on the spine of the book tattooed on her own spine. Then the book started showing her all sorts of things. She began using her own blood to paint and found a way to use her prophetic works of art to pay back some of her student loans. When one of the paintings including some of the sacrificial symbols went for sale in an underground coffee shop the Illuminati started to give Talulah a bit of notice. After glancing over her blog it was decided to bring the girl in.

They attempted to confiscate the book, but no one could read it. They attempted to remove the tattoo, but it remained. What could they do? They offered the girl a job as an asset and made her take down anything to incriminating from her blog. [Her supervisor still regularly asks her to remove images, especially things like the well plated heart on the crossroads- Jesus Talulah, that shit will get you arrested.] They’ve offered her some help in honing her skills, as deemed useful to the higher ups. She dropped out of school and now pretty much just works for the company, smokes weed and lounges around fair trade coffee shops and bars that sell locally brewed beer.

After working for the company for six years she seems rather comfortable with her slip towards power, even if it is minimal in comparison to some of her coworkers. She adapted surprisingly well to back handed politics (likely adopting the same skills she used as a mean girl in high school), occasional blood sacrifices (though she still refuses to kill dogs or cats and prefers transients), and abusing her innocent and harmless looks to get what she wants (again, mean girl, high school).

^{"Puh-lease, I donated to Haiti before the disaster."}

S k i l l s e t

Blood Seer, Blood Witch, Bond with Hekate

^{"I don't *own* him, that's cruel, we just have an understanding."}

E q u i p m e n t & S p e l l s

⇸ PRINCE OSWALD OF TARTARUS

^{She didn't find Oz, he found her shortly after the tattoo incident and has been following her around ever since. They appear to have conversations, but maybe she’s just one of those weirdos that thinks dogs are people- it's hard to tell as he seems very much like a plain (and slightly mangy) mutt to anyone else who meets him.}

⇸ AÍMA ÓRKOS TOU HEKATÊ

^{The blood oaths of Hekate is a book of spells and ceremonies that cater to gaining favor with Hekate and other underworld beings of Greek origin. The pages tend to disappear when not properly fed and it can be rather fickle (as most magical objects tend to be).}

⇸ SEE THE PAST IN KALE

^{Can see the details of someone's past within ground up kale chips}

⇸ DRINK THE PRESENT

^{Can see through someone's eyes if she mixes their blood with home brewed liquor and gets a good buzz}

⇸ PAINT THE FUTURE

^{Painting with someone's blood allows a glimpse their future, the paintings rarely turn out very good}

⇸ DIGITIZE TRACKING

^{A bit of someone's blood in the USB port of her Iphone adds a tracker to her Imaps}

⇸ EATING ORGANIC EMOTION

^{Ingestion of body matter dipped in organic olive oil allows her access to their emotions}

Illuminati: Becouse the world won't run itself. [Light Hearted, Conspiracy, Urban Magic, Dark Humour]

I was weird before it was cool. Obvi. :P

Illuminati: Becouse the world won't run itself. [Light Hearted, Conspiracy, Urban Magic, Dark Humour]

Talulah

_{T A L U L A H B L U M E}

^{H U M A N R E S O U R C E S ⇷⇸ # 2 7 1 - 6 8 6 - 4 2 1}

<sub>In a society obsessed with original aesthetic
we replicate symbols buried with ideas and dig
up clumps of the old gods and mix them with
E D M in a garbage can and chase them down
with home brewed whiskey and fair trade
lattes in our cramped apartments in renovated
ghettos built over d e a d civilizations that had
more originality than all of our blogs combined.
And surprisingly, it is this that creates our new
age witches. Power cramped into skinny jeans
wrapped in bullshit capitalism that pretends it
isn’t while it rallies against the man with spells
typed out on the n e w e s t macbook.

Then one day you wake up and you are the man.
-Talulah Blume "Blog of a Blood Witch"</sub>

^{"Either spend l e s s than $10 or m o r e than $75,
for in between is where the consumer soul goes to die"}

A g e & A p p e a r a n c e

On the verge of 28 and she doesn't like talking about it. She was raised on the pulse of fashion in NY and her wardrobe can attest to this, as well as her (usually empty) wallet. She prefers classic romantic styles and boho fashion. Skinny jeans, pencil skirts, flowing crop tops, button up blouses or ratty band shirts with obscure bands no one has heard of. She has a slim figure thanks to a mostly raw and organic diet and appears rather healthy, if not a little blood drained from time to time. She favors heels to add to her 5'6" height but owns plenty of sandals and custom keds. Her hair is bleached blonde with just enough dark roots to be fashionable and she often wears it down, sometimes with a braided pintrest style. Other times she puts it up in a well calculated "messy" bun. Her eyes are a pale blue and always wrapped in make-up. Seeing the future means she's never caught without it. She has a myriad of tattoos and piercings and the collection continues to grow.

^{"Man, we don't do a company wide blood drive...."
"Well then why the fuck did she ask fo- ooh, fuck"}

P e r s o n a l i t y

Smoker, drinker, elitist. She initially comes off as caring, sensitive and self conscious, but like many things under the Illuminati’s wing, appearances can be quite deceiving. She would have turned on her best friend for an invitation to an underground party before her current employment, and now, well now just hope you don’t stand in the way of something she wants. She doesn’t play fair, and she doesn’t have to, not with Hekate’s blessing. While she does care what people think, she has no problem attempting to invalidate their opinions if they upset her. Surprisingly, she is still very good at making friends and has plenty, though it is doubtful any one person knows all her true feelings and thoughts. She likes, and promotes, the idea that she is just a spoiled one dimensional hipster, but it is likely all of this is part of a wall she’s built up so as not to expose her true self. For someone who appears well put together she is an extremely disorganized person and still extremely messy with sacrifices.

^{"It was that little dicked asshole Elliot in R&D that started that rumor.
No one in my family was f u c k i n g some underworld nymph."}

B r i e f H i s t o r y

She was born and raised in Brooklyn, NY with her exceedingly dull mother and father. An only child, they spoiled the girl and so she has always felt that she was special. But really, she was just your average hipster in art school until she stumbled across this random book on one of her many thrift store visits. At first she thought it was a journal until she decided to get the totally unique symbol on the spine of the book tattooed on her own spine. Then the book started showing her all sorts of things. She began using her own blood to paint and found a way to use her prophetic works of art to pay back some of her student loans. When one of the paintings including some of the sacrificial symbols went for sale in an underground coffee shop the Illuminati started to give Talulah a bit of notice. After glancing over her blog it was decided to bring the girl in.

They attempted to confiscate the book, but no one could read it. They attempted to remove the tattoo, but it remained. What could they do? They offered the girl a job as an asset and made her take down anything to incriminating from her blog. [Her supervisor still regularly asks her to remove images, especially things like the well plated heart on the crossroads- Jesus Talulah, that shit will get you arrested.] They’ve offered her some help in honing her skills, as deemed useful to the higher ups. She dropped out of school and now pretty works for the company, smokes weed and lounges around fair trade coffee shops and bars that sell locally brewed beer.

After working for the company for six years she seems rather comfortable with her slip towards power, even if it is minimal in comparison to some of her coworkers. She adapted surprisingly well to back handed politics (likely adopting the same skills she used as a mean girl in high school), occasional blood sacrifices (though she still refuses to kill dogs or cats and prefers transients), and abusing her innocent and harmless looks to get what she wants (again, mean girl, high school).

^{"Puh-lease, I donated to Haiti before the disaster."}

S k i l l s e t

Blood Seer, Blood Witch, Bond with Hekate

^{"I don't *own* him, that's cruel, we just have an understanding."}

E q u i p m e n t & S p e l l s

⇸ PRINCE OSWALD OF TARTARUS

She didn't find Oz, he found her shortly after the tattoo incident and has been following her around ever since. They appear to have conversations, but maybe she’s just one of those weirdos that thinks dogs are people- it's hard to tell as he seems very much like a plain (and slightly mangy) mutt to anyone else who meets him.

⇸ AÍMA ÓRKOS TOU HEKATÊ

The blood oaths of Hekate is a book of spells and ceremonies that cater to gaining favor with Hekate and other underworld beings of Greek origin. The pages tend to disappear when not properly fed and it can be rather fickle (as most magical objects tend to be).

⇸ SEE THE PAST

Can see the details of someone's past within ground up kale chips

⇸ DRINK THE PRESENT

Can see through someone's eyes if she mixes their blood with home brewed liquor and gets a good buzz

⇸ PAINT THE FUTURE

Painting with someone's blood allows a glimpse their future, the paintings rarely turn out very good

⇸ DIGITIZE TRACKING

A bit of someone's blood in the USB port of her iphone adds a tracker to her imaps

⇸ EAT EMOTION

Ingestion of body matter dipped in organic olive oil allows her access to their emotions

[♛] 𝓡equiem. // the rise of soldier.

Slim digits curled through the freezing water in a lackadaisical and rhythmic sway that sufficiently sustained her position amongst the chilling embrace of the canal. The shadows had found her form and begun to taste across the modesty of her exposure, curling about in an ever changing web that afforded her a lazy unconcern about detection. Not that the Archadians had time to worry about a spectator. They had found themselves in blooming chaos upon the SOLDIERs murky stage as their tranquil spell shattered. They were unlikely prepared for the crashing fall from the heavens and the angels of death birthed without that began to appear from the womb of the canal and offer their blessings to the unanointed.

Kain, a blinding flame within the dreary fog called to the moths like a ravenous siren and the others picked them off with the laughable ease. Moths, with their firefly beacons of gunshots that darted across the shoreline and did little but call upon them the ferocious attention of their hunters. The obscurity of brume swirled about the monstrous ballet, devouring players and then regurgitating them upon their foes. A dance of destruction half-contrived upon fragility of pure humanity, confused and faulty in their movements, their thoughts, their approach. Her creeping progression had begun finding footholds upon the bottom of the canal. As she continued to look on it would be a lie to say she wasn’t offended stunned at the notably tame maiming of the enemy and lack of slaughter upon creatures so obviously lesser.

Her clothing did well to let the night’s consummation devour her form as she slipped like a nymph from the river Styx and frolicked across the madness to locate Corbyn just as he moved into the brush away from the shore. She added a small pirouette en arrière to dodge a bullet before ducking in behind her dashing leader. She caught sight of him just as he began his graceful, and apparently practiced, slaughter and she moistened her lips as the first blood of death began to scent the air around them and turn the tide of her ambition.

They did say “unnecessary death”, and who are we but gods to judge necessity?

The slumbering dull gray of her eyes began to twist with merging union of fantastical configurations of mind and other; an inklike pitch began to bleed from her iris and called forth little tremors through her fainéant presence; demanding something more sanguine and cruel. The tips of her fingers seemed to twitch little patterns of summoning or impatience. Innocence fell from her lips to give way to a curling snarl as the shadows began to whip more voraciously about her still uncovered feet. She’d failed at putting her boots on before the shyp had fallen from the sky and they had been lost somewhere in the crash. She seemed not to notice the lack of footwear as she let the illumination devouring umbra coil through the landscape, seeking sustenance and servitude. It crept with her as she edged along the treeline towards Corbyn’s direction.

Then her ears perked and the twitching of her fingers stilled as she sensed the audacious attempt at “sneak” that screamed through the ambiance of the terrain and the firefight she had left behind on the beach. The vengeful finger of decay crept to the fore front as her feet sought tactical placement subconsciously and she darted forward. Dual bo-shuriken flipped from her wrists and were gripped tightly in wound spider-like digits, blurring at her sides as she gained momentum towards her target. She was silent as she pounced upon the unsuspecting and exposed back and speared the metal through pliable flesh, through shattering bone, rupturing both of his shoulder blades in a demonic piggy back.

The overwhelmed figure began to descend, placing one foot forward in a comical effort to stabilize his form, already woven within the web, already a fly to the spider, her legs wrapped around his torso without reprieve. Snarling lips found hold as they plunged inside his neck, gripping with an inhuman locking of jaw on his jugular and ripping it away before he could falter once more and fall to the ground. She let out a melodic little giggle, completely obscene spilling from her lips that now wept gore down her alabaster chin and then disappeared beneath the neck of her jacket. She pulled herself from him, along with the deadly chopsticks which elicited a painful cry that gurgled from his neck wound that he struggled to grip in an attempt to hold the life force within. Her head tilted at the frivolous attempt and she extended a bare foot to roll the man over onto his back so he could face her. She reached the same foot down and removed his damaged appendage from the wound and pressed it into the ground beside him. In an unexpected snap of movement she raised her foot and slammed her heel into his wrist, feeling the bones shatter through her now blood soaked pad. Corbyn’s voice began to override the whimpering of the destroyed man splayed before her and she listened as her fingers resumed their odd twitching. Obeying on a technicality she turned and left him there. He still one hand he could hold to the wound.

When she slipped out of the trees it was rather close to Corbyn and she offered him a dazzling smile, overlooking the fact that she probably resembled some cliche vampyre flick. As she joined him the pulsing inky miasma that clung to her silhouette and immediate space began to slither across his feet, pooling between them yet enticing nothing but vision. The sentience of the aeon 'gift' could register him as friend, especially as she bent at his side and strangely studied his eyes, barely visible in the gloom that housed them, had they been human. Her voice came out a whisper and there was something about it that seemed to question more than the mission at hand. “Do you think you’re ready for what must be done?” Then she gazed down the path they would take, ready to follow the commander. If the road to hell was paved with good intentions, where would this road lead?

[♛] 𝓡equiem. // the rise of soldier.

Should be posting today or tomorrow.

Foreign Legion [First Contact/Uplift/Military Sci-Fi]

"Disneyland? Fuck, man, this is better than Disneyland!"

The curl of her lips only escalated as she watched the magenta toned fauna rip apart before them, scattering drifts of pollen that could almost be considered cover if they weren’t such a god awful hue dispersed amongst their equally vibrant counterparts. Through the scope she watched as bursts of blue began to join in the variety of pinks and purples. Swaths of the blue were being painted across the perennial and exotic surroundings as if someone was flinging a brush to recreate a terrifying jaunt hand in hand with Lance Johnson. It was an odd sort of beauty that struck her through the ambient rattling of gunfire and a slight giggle began to skitter across the comms.

She attempted to repress the escalating snicker, but it pressed back like a fit one falls into on the brink of exhaustion or the onset of momentary insanity. Seeing as they were in butt fuck space it was likely a blend of the two, but luckily for herself and those she fought alongside it seemed to fail at distracting her from their goal. Her shots continued to ring true, chasing the darting chaos that the Salvesh had slipped into with practiced accuracy and savoring the twitching of the beasts as they were hit repeatedly. Hardy fuckers, weren’t they?

Park and Danny were yelling orders that, thankfully, suppressed the sound of her complete unprofessionalism and when the order came through to ‘Lift and Shift’ she took a brief second to try and shake off the laughter and be sure that Park was moving along with them. As the gunfire died out she almost had herself composed once again when she heard Danny yell out, “You got that one, right? Millionaires and fucking movie stars!" And it redoubled the misplaced humor that litted from her lips in an almost breathless wheeze of suppression.

As they began to sweep and ‘dispose’ the area her whole body was now shaking with silent laughter and when she caught Danny’s eye for a moment she just shook her head and smiled, “Jesus Danny.”

She made her way across the area littered with an infantile art project of gender basic colors. Her SCAR MK was now slung and dangling across her front in favor of the Sig Sauer P226 she’d pulled out for the close range clean-up crew. As she passed Park she tilted her head to get a look at his face and offered him a grin and slapped his shoulder in a gesture of gentle comfort. She accompanied the action with a wink and words that betrayed that she was still on the edge of broken reality induced humor, ”’Tis but a scratch, ja?”. Then she continued on past Parks scanning the Salvesh. Some of them had been sections ripped by bullets and still seemed to squirm. They were definitely physically formidable.

She wasn’t sure if she was scared. She wasn’t even sure if this was really fucking happening. She took to kneeling position to try and get a hold of herself and hydrate while they had the chance. Then she heard Julie Koh confirm multiple targets headed their way. “Fuckin’ Julie. How about some good news?” Butch adjusted herself and rose back up while she waited for Collins to offer instruction.

Illuminati: Becouse the world won't run itself. [Light Hearted, Conspiracy, Urban Magic, Dark Humour]

I'm going to make you your very own new and improved bathory bitch with a talented tongue that barely soothes the bite. :P

[once I post up in all our other RPs of course.]

[♛] 𝓡equiem. // the rise of soldier.

I was trying to give a few more people time to post, *coughICCcough*, but I'm definitely still about and I'm looking at posting tomorrow.

Cinis

@aviendha

Though it's not one of your ideas, that list did give me inspiration for the perfect power for my character; it can see/predict the short-term future. The fact they're utterly insane is their weakness. They no longer have a grasp on the concept of past, present or future. Time is just time to them.

Think this would be okay?

@Silver Carrot

I am in no way the GM, but I can tell you from personal experience being able to see the future is not very easy in an RP. You have to get the GM and other characters to contribute heavily to your ability or it isn't worth much. Just a heads up.

Also, I think all the characters would be insane, elder god stuff and all.

Foreign Legion [First Contact/Uplift/Military Sci-Fi]

Ugh, okay. Work is being a little more tricky than I previously believed. I hope to get one up today, but it may be tomorrow. :|