Takida Inigo

Welcome to Nowhere

Valon Vladimir Valerious

Valon is not what some would consider anything special, in fact when it comes to appearance he hardly worth glancing at twice. Standing at a rather average height of 5'11" he is hardly seen as a threat. His body has no obvious muscle mass, he does not sport a six pack or ungodly abs, in fact some might say he is rather thin for his size. His eye's, well, his eye's are probably what people will notice the most, they are a dark shade of olive green and they do seem to give off a glow. His eyes are accented by darkened skin that had been mistaken for eyeliner but is natural. His hair is a natural shade of lightened brown, kept short, messy, and always around the forehead and a light beard upon his face that is never too heavy. The second most noticeable attribute to Valon would be the tattoo's if by chance one saw them underneath his clothing. His arms are a torrent of black thick chains, from wrist to shoulder ancient cracked chains are etched into his arms crudely, each link of the chain depicting spikes and in the center of each link, writing in an unknown language. On his back from shoulder blade to shoulder blade are symbols, each one different and each one with different meaning. On the back of his neck between the symbols is the tattoo of the Guardians pulling it all together.

Valon is not known for his style nor does he care to keep with what you would call the current trend. Coming from and older era his clothes symbolize, at least in appearance the time he came from and not the time he currently resides in. Some would classify his outfits as Gothic or steampunk in nature. His clothes will often change from day to day in this same style. The only things that do not change is the cross in which he wears around his neck and the rings on his fingers.

His voice is very rough, a lot like sandpaper rubbing against sand paper, it is often lightly accented and has a chilling tone to it. One would not say its level was demonic but his voice is deep and often times emotionless.

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Seraph



3754 Years of age (Appears to be late 20's)



Male



30th of October

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Guardian



Mezmer

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Brown



Olive green



5'11" / Fit

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"I was born over 3700 years ago to a loving mother who coveted me as if I was the savior of the world itself. Life was for the most part... simple like any life is growing up in a time where there was nothing. It is almost funny how far the world has advanced, how convenient things have become in these times. Anyways, life was simple, I was just a normal child living a normal life, at least... that's what I thought anyways. It seemed the older I got the more it became apparent that I was far from normal, I had a power, one in which I could control others. It came at a cost I learned, but I could bring anybody under my control. My mother often chastised me about using that power, she would get so mad and punish me for it and I never understood why... at least until the night they came.

Two things happened to me that night, one my mother revealed to me that I was something called a half Mezmer, some kind of Demon and my father whom I never knew was a full Mezmer. The second thing that happened was my mother was killed. At first I did not understand why they had killed, but over time I came to learn that someone had found out about my ability, and knowing this full well my mother sacrificed her life by making them think it was her who had done it. I remember... I remember watching them burn her alive to appease some God to rid themselves of evil. This... well... this was my first great pain of three, that set me on a course of Vengeance for many years and lead to my changing.

They say that monsters are not born, but they are made and in my case this was quite true. After my mother was killed I had no one and nothing. The people who had killed her shunned me as a child of a devil worshiper but did not kill me, why I do not know but perhaps because I was so young at the time. I was lost in this world.. until the day I meant my father. He had heard of what had happened to my mother, so he came for me and took me away from those lands and told me who I really was, what I really was and should I desire, one day, what I could become. The pieces fell into place even at my age it began to make sense, and I loathed my father for he did not help my mother and I cursed his name. I pushed him away, I wanted nothing to do with him or what I was, up until that moment it had brought me nothing but pain.

Years seemed to trickle by, I grew up alone, fending for myself, refusing to be what my father said I could be. But alas it is not easy to grow up alone and young and to have nothing to your name, I was starving and I had to do it. I had to use that power so I could get food. This was the very cataclysm to my second greatest pain. They had seen it, someone, a Hunter, my very first recollection of their cursed existence. I did not know it than but they knew what I was and because of that my life was meant to end for they suffered no abomination like me. That hunter followed me with the intent to kill me and had he been left to his own devices he just might have. But my father... I learned he had never left my side but stayed in the shadows watching over me, helping me where I wouldn't notice. When the Hunter tried to kill me he stepped between me and him and... in the end... sacrificed himself for my being. I can still see that Hunter chopping his head off, I can still feel that pain in my chest, I can still hear the words he spoke to me before he told me to run.

Find love son for that is what will change the cursed fate I have layed upon you. I WILL die for you like I would have died for her.

I should have just left but I stayed just close enough to see him die, my second greatest pain, learning my father loved me only to see him die before it could matter. I ran from there that rainy night, far as I could, my heart was breaking, my anger was building, I was losing myself and there I could do... at least in my current state. The images played in my head day after day and every time I slept, if I had been strong I could have stopped it. I remember the night it happened, the night I decided that I would suffer it no more, that I would become the monster they wanted me to be. It had been years since my father died and many more since my mother. The hunter tracked me all those years, I only able to elude him, just barely every time but I knew he would kill me or die trying. The memories plagued me, the people scorned me, the Hunter tries to kill me, the world hates my existence so I would GIVE them something to HATE!

The blade was cold and I could its bitter sting as its tip pierced my chest, I could feel it press beyond my rib cage and slice into the heart I no longer desired. I felt deaths cold grasp take me, but... it was only momentary, I felt my humanity SLIP away, felt it LEAVE me and the monster that I tried so hard to not become became MY only FRIEND! Rage, hatred, malice, blood... Blood... BLOOD! He came for me... oh yes he came for me one...Last...TIME! The Hunter who had plagued me and killed my FATHER! He was not expecting what he found, he did not suspect that I had lay the trap for him. I still laugh when I remember his face, the face of a man who was afraid for his miserable MORTAL life! I relished heaving his head his shoulders, ripping it away, grinning like a mad beast savoring the kill. For the first time in entire existence I felt POWER and I felt SATISFIED!

That was the start of it all, that was start of many hundreds of years of death that I brought upon this miserable wretched plain of existence. Wars... so many wars waged by men for power, for love, for conquest, for money, for human... greed. Every single one I was there among the chaos exacting my fill for blood, the fools... never any the wiser to what I truly was, never caring as long as I slayed their enemies and won their battles, while all the time, slitting their throats while they slept. I was now the plague upon this world and they would run FROM ME! It was like this for what felt like Eon's, I honed my skills, I honed my abilities and I used them all! An than... just like that... it all changed... with just the look of one mortal females eye's.

I had saved her unknowingly to me when I killed a bunch of marauders who were plundering her home for food during one of the many wars. She was... so beautiful that even my blood lust ran cold just in the sight of her and I could not understand why. My thoughts of death and revenge, my anger seemed to subside when she looked into my eye's and I into hers. A moment that only lasted second had been the catalyst to not only my changing but also to my third and greatest, of all the pains, I have endured in my long existence. I did not understand what my father meant when he said Love could change my cursed fate, but I finally did, I realized that no matter what I was or what I had done I was more than a demon. I had once had humanity and I could have it again if I chose to let go of my pain, my anger, my revenge.

Even though I did not know him I believe he knew the path my existence would take me, and he said the words, the only words that could one day take me from that path that only had but one end. I loved her and she loved me and together we had a son, a son I treasured more than anything I have known in this world. The hatred was still there, the cruelty in my heart, the rage, but she could control it almost effortlessly. They say that nothing good can last forever and this holds true, but I only wish it could have lasted longer. The night they died... I wasn't there, my son was sick and he needed medicine and while I was away... the Hunters had come, revenge for their fallen brother from so many years ago still strong within their blood lines.

They did not find me but my family instead... they killed them... both of them... they took them hostage to draw me in... so they could kill them and exploit the one thing that could weaken me... a weakness I never knew I had... sadness. I don't remember that night very well, only brief images of blood and screaming and I am not sure I want to remember it ever. I blacked out for the first time in my life and when I awoke, my son, my wife and the Hunter were dead. My body was severely wounded and I myself was probably at one point close to death if there is such a thing. My third and greatest pain... the loss of the people that I loved in this whole existence... gone.

I was no longer the same after that, I tried to go back to killing to take away the anger I felt within myself, but every time I tried I could see her face, her eye's. After so long I realized that there was no healing for me now and that killing endlessly would not bring her or my son back. She had known... she knew from the start what I was, I did not know how but she knew and she loved me anyways. Telling me that I could take a different path than the one I lead. That I could... be better than the monster I told myself I was and had to be. So many years I wondered this world... almost living in a place between, trying to find some kind of meaning, trying keep my emotions in check if not for myself than for her memory.

I had lost all purpose and for the longest time I was just an empty shell and even now I probably still am, however... I did find purpose again. Its funny how one who hated this world and in some ways still does is now one that helps to protect others within it. There have been many that have wondered how a Mezmer could care enough, be virtuous enough to be a Guardian. An in some ways I do not know, my path has been wrought with blood and carnage, death and pain, sadness and regret. But maybe, just maybe that is why I made it, why I passed the tests, why they looked upon me and did not reject me right than and there.

The older one gets human or otherwise, the more clarity they can possess, the more wisdom they can obtain. I have come to see that evil is not what you are or will be, but is decided by the acts in which you commit and the reasons for committing them. I am a demon and I am far from human anymore, and everyday is a struggle to hold onto the demon... the man she wanted me to be and the man I wanted our son to be. I will walk this path and continue to walk it for them, there is no way I will ever find redemption but I can and will make sure that others do not suffer the same fate as I. I may hate this world and I may hate others, hell I may even hate myself, but I will protect them from the shadows because this is the path I was always meant to walk."

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Elira Valerious - Mother - Deceased

Vladimir Valon - Father - Deceased

Rovena Valerious - Wife - Deceased

Vladimir Valerious - Son - Deceased

Theme Song

Welcome to Nowhere

Thank you @Emma ! I am glad you like him ^^ Can't wait for this to officially get going!

Welcome to Nowhere

Valon is not what some would consider anything special, in fact when it comes to appearance he hardly worth glancing at twice. Standing at a rather average height of 5'11" he is hardly seen as a threat. His body has no obvious muscle mass, he does not sport a six pack or ungodly abs, in fact some might say he is rather thin for his size. His eye's, well, his eye's are probably what people will notice the most, they are a dark shade of olive green and they do seem to give off a glow. His eyes are accented by darkened skin that had been mistaken for eyeliner but is natural. His hair is a natural shade of lightened brown, kept short, messy, and always around the forehead and a light beard upon his face that is never too heavy. The second most noticeable attribute to Valon would be the tattoo's if by chance one saw them underneath his clothing. His arms are a torrent of black thick chains, from wrist to shoulder ancient cracked chains are etched into his arms crudely, each link of the chain depicting spikes and in the center of each link, writing in an unknown language. On his back from shoulder blade to shoulder blade are symbols, each one different and each one with different meaning. On the back of his neck between the symbols is the tattoo of the Guardians pulling it all together.

Valon is not known for his style nor does he care to keep with what you would call the current trend. Coming from and older era his clothes symbolize, at least in appearance the time he came from and not the time he currently resides in. Some would classify his outfits as Gothic or steampunk in nature. His clothes will often change from day to day in this same style. The only things that do not change is the cross in which he wears around his neck and the rings on his fingers.

His voice is very rough, a lot like sandpaper rubbing against sand paper, it is often lightly accented and has a chilling tone to it. One would not say its level was demonic but his voice is deep and often times emotionless.

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Seraph



3754 Years of age (Appears to be late 20's)



Male



30th of October

____________________________________________________________________________________________
______________________________________________________

Guardian



Mezmer

____________________________________________________________________________________________
______________________________________________________

Brown



Olive green



5'11" / Fit

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______________________________________________________

"I was born over 3700 years ago to a loving mother who coveted me as if I was the savior of the world itself. Life was for the most part... simple like any life is growing up in a time where there was nothing. It is almost funny how far the world has advanced, how convenient things have become in these times. Anyways, life was simple, I was just a normal child living a normal life, at least... that's what I thought anyways. It seemed the older I got the more it became apparent that I was far from normal, I had a power, one in which I could control others. It came at a cost I learned, but I could bring anybody under my control. My mother often chastised me about using that power, she would get so mad and punish me for it and I never understood why... at least until the night they came.

Two things happened to me that night, one my mother revealed to me that I was something called a half Mezmer, some kind of Demon and my father whom I never knew was a full Mezmer. The second thing that happened was my mother was killed. At first I did not understand why they had killed, but over time I came to learn that someone had found out about my ability, and knowing this full well my mother sacrificed her life by making them think it was her who had done it. I remember... I remember watching them burn her alive to appease some God to rid themselves of evil. This... well... this was my first great pain of three, that set me on a course of Vengeance for many years and lead to my changing.

They say that monsters are not born, but they are made and in my case this was quite true. After my mother was killed I had no one and nothing. The people who had killed her shunned me as a child of a devil worshiper but did not kill me, why I do not know but perhaps because I was so young at the time. I was lost in this world.. until the day I meant my father. He had heard of what had happened to my mother, so he came for me and took me away from those lands and told me who I really was, what I really was and should I desire, one day, what I could become. The pieces fell into place even at my age it began to make sense, and I loathed my father for he did not help my mother and I cursed his name. I pushed him away, I wanted nothing to do with him or what I was, up until that moment it had brought me nothing but pain.

Years seemed to trickle by, I grew up alone, fending for myself, refusing to be what my father said I could be. But alas it is not easy to grow up alone and young and to have nothing to your name, I was starving and I had to do it. I had to use that power so I could get food. This was the very cataclysm to my second greatest pain. They had seen it, someone, a Hunter, my very first recollection of their cursed existence. I did not know it than but they knew what I was and because of that my life was meant to end for they suffered no abomination like me. That hunter followed me with the intent to kill me and had he been left to his own devices he just might have. But my father... I learned he had never left my side but stayed in the shadows watching over me, helping me where I wouldn't notice. When the Hunter tried to kill me he stepped between me and him and... in the end... sacrificed himself for my being. I can still see that Hunter chopping his head off, I can still feel that pain in my chest, I can still hear the words he spoke to me before he told me to run.

Find love son for that is what will change the cursed fate I have layed upon you. I WILL die for you like I would have died for her.

I should have just left but I stayed just close enough to see him die, my second greatest pain, learning my father loved me only to see him die before it could matter. I ran from there that rainy night, far as I could, my heart was breaking, my anger was building, I was losing myself and there I could do... at least in my current state. The images played in my head day after day and every time I slept, if I had been strong I could have stopped it. I remember the night it happened, the night I decided that I would suffer it no more, that I would become the monster they wanted me to be. It had been years since my father died and many more since my mother. The hunter tracked me all those years, I only able to elude him, just barely every time but I knew he would kill me or die trying. The memories plagued me, the people scorned me, the Hunter tries to kill me, the world hates my existence so I would GIVE them something to HATE!

The blade was cold and I could its bitter sting as its tip pierced my chest, I could feel it press beyond my rib cage and slice into the heart I no longer desired. I felt deaths cold grasp take me, but... it was only momentary, I felt my humanity SLIP away, felt it LEAVE me and the monster that I tried so hard to not become became MY only FRIEND! Rage, hatred, malice, blood... Blood... BLOOD! He came for me... oh yes he came for me one...Last...TIME! The Hunter who had plagued me and killed my FATHER! He was not expecting what he found, he did not suspect that I had lay the trap for him. I still laugh when I remember his face, the face of a man who was afraid for his miserable MORTAL life! I relished heaving his head his shoulders, ripping it away, grinning like a mad beast savoring the kill. For the first time in entire existence I felt POWER and I felt SATISFIED!

That was the start of it all, that was start of many hundreds of years of death that I brought upon this miserable wretched plain of existence. Wars... so many wars waged by men for power, for love, for conquest, for money, for human... greed. Every single one I was there among the chaos exacting my fill for blood, the fools... never any the wiser to what I truly was, never caring as long as I slayed their enemies and won their battles, while all the time, slitting their throats while they slept. I was now the plague upon this world and they would run FROM ME! It was like this for what felt like Eon's, I honed my skills, I honed my abilities and I used them all! An than... just like that... it all changed... with just the look of one mortal females eye's.

I had saved her unknowingly to me when I killed a bunch of marauders who were plundering her home for food during one of the many wars. She was... so beautiful that even my blood lust ran cold just in the sight of her and I could not understand why. My thoughts of death and revenge, my anger seemed to subside when she looked into my eye's and I into hers. A moment that only lasted second had been the catalyst to not only my changing but also to my third and greatest, of all the pains, I have endured in my long existence. I did not understand what my father meant when he said Love could change my cursed fate, but I finally did, I realized that no matter what I was or what I had done I was more than a demon. I had once had humanity and I could have it again if I chose to let go of my pain, my anger, my revenge.

Even though I did not know him I believe he knew the path my existence would take me, and he said the words, the only words that could one day take me from that path that only had but one end. I loved her and she loved me and together we had a son, a son I treasured more than anything I have known in this world. The hatred was still there, the cruelty in my heart, the rage, but she could control it almost effortlessly. They say that nothing good can last forever and this holds true, but I only wish it could have lasted longer. The night they died... I wasn't there, my son was sick and he needed medicine and while I was away... the Hunters had come, revenge for their fallen brother from so many years ago still strong within their blood lines.

They did not find me but my family instead... they killed them... both of them... they took them hostage to draw me in... so they could kill them and exploit the one thing that could weaken me... a weakness I never knew I had... sadness. I don't remember that night very well, only brief images of blood and screaming and I am not sure I want to remember it ever. I blacked out for the first time in my life and when I awoke, my son, my wife and the Hunter were dead. My body was severely wounded and I myself was probably at one point close to death if there is such a thing. My third and greatest pain... the loss of the people that I loved in this whole existence... gone.

I was no longer the same after that, I tried to go back to killing to take away the anger I felt within myself, but every time I tried I could see her face, her eye's. After so long I realized that there was no healing for me now and that killing endlessly would not bring her or my son back. She had known... she knew from the start what I was, I did not know how but she knew and she loved me anyways. Telling me that I could take a different path than the one I lead. That I could... be better than the monster I told myself I was and had to be. So many years I wondered this world... almost living in a place between, trying to find some kind of meaning, trying keep my emotions in check if not for myself than for her memory.

I had lost all purpose and for the longest time I was just an empty shell and even now I probably still am, however... I did find purpose again. Its funny how one who hated this world and in some ways still does is now one that helps to protect others within it. There have been many that have wondered how a Mezmer could care enough, be virtuous enough to be a Guardian. An in some ways I do not know, my path has been wrought with blood and carnage, death and pain, sadness and regret. But maybe, just maybe that is why I made it, why I passed the tests, why they looked upon me and did not reject me right than and there.

The older one gets human or otherwise, the more clarity they can possess, the more wisdom they can obtain. I have come to see that evil is not what you are or will be, but is decided by the acts in which you commit and the reasons for committing them. I am a demon and I am far from human anymore, and everyday is a struggle to hold onto the demon... the man she wanted me to be and the man I wanted our son to be. I will walk this path and continue to walk it for them, there is no way I will ever find redemption but I can and will make sure that others do not suffer the same fate as I. I may hate this world and I may hate others, hell I may even hate myself, but I will protect them from the shadows because this is the path I was always meant to walk."

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Elira Valerious - Mother - Deceased

Vladimir Valon - Father - Deceased

Rovena Valerious - Wife - Deceased

Vladimir Valerious - Son - Deceased

Theme Song

Buffy inspired roleplay anyone?

Seems like it would be a really short RP. "The camera pans out on young Biff, the vampire slayer, as he sits in his straight jacket foaming at the mouth in his padded cell as he has been ever since he lost his mind in highschool. The End."

@sciwiz1221

Ah well remember an old saying some of the best idea's are often ridiculed ^^ by the by Biff is far too Back to the future sounding lol I definitely don't want that name for a slayer.

The Survivor's Club (High Casual)

So @Cairo how is this story going to start in respects to our characters knowing each other? I would imagine we have not been together long if at all? Another question if it isn't too revealing, as its been 45 days I would imagine we know some things about the creatures fighting in the war, not a terrible lot but strategies by now to help take them down, would we be coming up with such things on our own or would you kind of fill us in on a need to know basis type thing?

The Survivor's Club (High Casual)

Sergei stands around 6'1" with a rather stout yet firm appearance. He is pretty well taken care of for the most part, his body is not as muscular as it once was but he is fit for his age. Like most Russians he has a rather toughened face with a grizzled beard albeit going on salt and pepper colored with faded brown thrown into the mix. Heavy set eyebrows and a fairly full head of salt and peppered brown hair that is medium length. His eye's are a dark brown and always have the appearance on one who has much pride within themselves. Being one for more neutral colored clothes he is usually wearing something that is of a black and gray pigment. As he is from an older generation he can often be seen wearing a suit like build. This build usually consists of a black dress shirt, long overcoat, a scarf usually around his neck, a pair of dress shoes and dress pants, and of course his signature Ushanka and dark shaded glasses.

It is unfortunate in that current age that such attire is not really suited like it once was in a more civilized world. Many aspects have changed since the start of the war. Now and days his hair a bit longer and his beard a bit more erratic. Still sticking to neutral colors he can most commonly be seen wearing a pair of scuffed black boots, loose faded black dress pants, a plain black t-shirt covered by a torn black overcoat, dirty scarf and still his signature Ushanka and now cracked dark shaded glasses.

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53



Male

Sergei Vasily Borodin was born in a small village outside of Moscow, Russia to a peasant father and mother who did not have much to their names. Like much of Russian at the time, life was fairly hard in his lands and often filled with strife and power struggles and a mounting distrust among officials. Much of his childhood days were spent wrapped in a thin blanket trying to keep warm or on the streets trying to find food while his parents spent their days trying to make some currency to survive. Unable to get any kind of formal education, Sergei was home schooled, at least when his parents had the time to do so and when he was old enough he became an apprentice to a local butcher where he was able to make little currency to help support himself and his family.

It was in his early teenage years that life really took a turn for the worst, due to high tensions within Moscow a small uprising gave way and a lot of angry people stupidly tried to march on the Kremlin and unfortunately his parents were among them. Suffice to say that they died that day which in any case was better than being put in facility for the rest of their lives. After their deaths Sergei no longer had anyone in his life, being what his parents had done he was scorned as if he had been their himself and even worse he was often abused by the local law enforcement. It is safe to say that these years were if anything the worst for him and at the same time the most emotionally damning.

It was in his early adulthood that he attempted to change his fortune, he attempted to join the Russian Armed Forces. Wanting to prove he was not like his foolish parents and wanting to make a name for himself, he was however rejected because his parents indiscretions hanged over his head still. Try as he may, Sergei was a cursed man and no one would have him, no money, no home, not ever a friend. It was fortunate for him when he was approached by a ranking member in the SRV two years later. In not so many words the man who truly has no name told Sergei that because of his parents ignorance he would forever be an enemy to mother Russia. That was merely the reality he faced, but if so chose he could choose to disappear and become someone who worked within the shadows. Knowing his future was set in stone at that point, Sergei accepted the offer and thus began a career in Intelligence.

Much of what transpired between Sergei's 20th year of life to his 40th year of life is highly unknown. For all anyone who cared, he had literally disappeared from the world, not that anyone was blinking an eye over it. When his name did eventually resurface it was followed by enemy of the Federation. It is unclear what transpired to make Sergei a traitor, no one ever knew the full truth, and when he disappeared completely and could not be found it would remain a mystery. Around the time people began to forget the brief commotion Sergei appeared once more but in a small town in America. He opened up a butchers shop and catered happily to the local residents. An it was up until the war began that he happily enjoyed a new life far from the country that had tortured him most his life.

They often say that happiness is a fleeting thing and is not truly meant to last, this was the case for Sergei and many people on that fateful day when the world went to utter hell. May 16th would forever hold a burning point in his memory. When that day had started it was like any other since his defection so many years ago. But the very moment the clock stroked 11:00 am, the life he knew, was over. Although he tries hard to forget that day, that moment in time, his mind refuses to let those images go from his conscious. All the things he had seen in this world up until that point could not prepare him for what later on he came to know as the Infernal, attacked his small town and all but obliterated the many friends he had made there.

He should have died that day, he knows that more than he has known anything else in his entire life. Maybe it was the training from his previous life, maybe it was luck, maybe... just maybe God decided that it was not his time just yet. But he escaped from that living hell, but not without scars both mental and physical thrust upon him by the spawn of pure hell. The memories of knowing that he couldn't save anyone even though he tried, they all died and he became the bearer of their memories. He did not give up that day or the many days since, if was due to stubbornness or anger or even that he could not bare to take his own life, it is unknown.

All that he truly knows is he heard the words of the so called Prophets, he knows what must be done. If it is true or not, the only thing he had to hold onto now is the belief that if they could win this war than everything could go back to the way it was. While he never wanted to go back to old way of life, he has resigned himself to the fact that he must do so if only to try and find the peace he loved so much.

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Like any true Russian, Sergei holds a very high amount of pride, this is something that can lead to both strength and clarity of mind and a never ending stubbornness that any older man might have. At his very core he is good man, a generous man, someone who is both kind to those who deserve it and a nightmare to those who would hurt others. In his heart he wants nothing more than a solitary life, one where he can be free to live in happiness in his own way, but at the same time he is often haunted by his past and who he once was. Sergei is an older man and like many older man he is quite wise and tend look at things in a far less serious way than the young. He has a certain way about him, a certain persona that makes people feel easy around him and just a calming energy. He is wise beyond his years and knows what to say when the time is right.

• Wise: Sergei is very wise and a very smart man, given his past life he was often forced to think on his feet and solve problems that could mean life or death. This way of life has made him quite a thinker. You could say it was this wisdom that got him out of that small town when the Infernal destroyed it.
• Combat: You wouldn't think it looking at the man and how kind he is but Sergei is a trained combatant, his specialty being in hand to hand techniques. If your not prepared for it he could put you in a rather nasty hold that would be hard to get out of or give you a rather well aimed shot to your body that would reek havoc on you in the long run.
• Blades: Sergei is good with sharp edges, almost too good at it, being a butcher for a good amount of years, he knows how to cut meat with good proficiency if it be dead beef or an opponent. An he is also pretty good at twirling knives for the younger children who find joy in it, maybe evening juggling but than again nearly losing a thumb has dissuaded him from doing that again.
• Age: They say a man who can't accept reality is often the fool who dies the quickest, Sergei is no fool so even he knows he is far from that strong man he used to be, decidedly so in some cases. If he wants to accept it or not his body has aged and with it comes the various pains one will get not only in general but from a life of action. It is this reason that he is not as fast or as precise as he once was, not like the younger generations.
• Endurance: The mind is willing but the body isn't, a very cold sediment to a man who could once take so much damage. Life however often has other plans and in Sergei's case he can not keep going like he used to, he tires a lot faster than before and in a world where one needs to run this can be a dangerous weakness to have. While he is in pretty good shape for his age, he won't be able to run miles on end without a rest, and old injuries paining him even more so.
• Stubborn: An old man who isn't stubborn would indeed be a miracle, but Sergei is not that miracle and it can sometimes put him in danger. When your full of pride, and you care way too much, and your too stubborn to accept certain things it can lead to mayhem. Sergei hates death, he does not fear it but he does hate it and this leads him to try to and stop it when it comes for someone else. He is far too stubborn to be talked down from doing something he believes is right.

____________________________________________________________________________________________
______________________________________________________

Vityaz-SN

A weapon in which he brought with him when he defected to the U.S. years ago it is an effective Russian based sub machine gun that's has a lot of similarities to the AK-47. It is smaller a bit more compact and uses the common 9×19mm Parabellum round. With a higher fire rate and an auto to semi auto function it is a versatile weapon for the right user. Its clip is capable of holding thirty rounds and there is a flashlight attached near the barrel for dark area's.

Current Ammo Count: 2 Full clips plus one half clip in the chamber (75 Rounds)

MR-412 REX

Another gun he brought with him during his defection the MR-412 is an double / single action shot variant of the more commonly known magnum. With a break action chamber and auto eject function this weapon was a special for those who could use it correctly. Chambered for the 357. magnum round with a six barrel capacity, it is a fairly strong weapon and moderately powerful.

Current Ammo Count: 12 rounds plus 4 in the chamber (16 rounds)

Japanese Slicer

About the only weapon that is not brought from Russia, this is a Japanese slicing knife. In fact it is the very same knife he was using the day everything went to hell. Razor sharp and of a good length it can be quite lethal in a close quarters battle however it is still a kitchen knife so it does lack proper balance. In any event he can not bare to part with it, as it is the only piece of his previous life he has left.

Leather Pack (Items)

He carries around an old leather backpack that holds his assorted items albeit he does not carry much on himself as he tries to remain light for long distances of travel.

• 1x Bottle of 1950 Jewel of Russia (wrapped heavily to avoid breakage)
• 1x Knife sharpener
• 2x 750 mml water bottles
• 1x Large bag of homemade beef jerky (Teriyaki flavor)
• 1x Length of military strength cord

ff8333

Theme Song

____________________________________________________________________________________________
______________________________________________________

"Do you think... that I will see my mom and dad again in heaven?"

Sergei was silent as he sat upon the scorched asphalt his back pressed up against the crumbling brick of the building behind him. He was fighting back the tears welling in the corner of his eye's as a young girl lay in his arms. She was only fourteen, a young girl he had know since she was born, she was the prettiest, gentle thing he had ever known. She had her moms light blonde hair and her dads blue eye's and she was always the sweetest child. He found so much strength in her bright smile but now he could hardly look upon her. Her once platinum blonde hair was now drenched in blood, dried and caked, clinging to her forehead, her body was torn in many places, claw marks that gashed deep, her clothing torn to shreds in many places. He had tried... tried so hard to protect her from those things... that hell spawn. The pain from his own wounds barely seemed to register to him now.

Sergei his hand over her eye's to block her view from the streets around them, as he looked around there were bodies everywhere both old and young. Some were torn apart, others cut to shreds, some were even missing limbs, the massacre that had taken place here was unforgivable. The tears he had fought began to move down his cheeks as he looked upon her... finally after trying to avoid it. Her question played in his head, at that point he was unsure if God was even a real being anymore... and if he was than how could he allow such evil to do this? She was just a baby to him, she was so young and had everything ahead of and now at the end on a street of... horrors she was gonna die, right in his arms.

"I do believe so my dear girl. I know they are up their right now waiting for you, because I know better than most just how much they love you."

Sergei just let the tears fall as her body was shuddering in his arms, he looked up at the sky, it was so filled with storm clouds... it was so dark... almost fitting.

"I am scared, I don't want to die..."

Her words sounded weaker than before, he could feel the warm tears on the hand over her eye's as he grip on his shoulder tightened.

"There is nothing to be scared dear girl, dieing is... almost like going to sleep and waking up in a whole new world. In fact your just starting a new life in a beautiful place. No more tears, no more pain, no more fear. I promise you that the next you open your eye's... there will no more worries and no more regrets."

Sergei's free hand tightened as he tried so hard to believe in his own words, he felt anger welling up inside of himself. What kind of monster could do something like this? What kind of beast could be so merciless?

"Will I... see you again Uncle Borodin?"

Her grip slowly loosened as her breathing was becoming more ragged, she did not have much longer left now, he could feel her slipping away.

"You will see me again my girl, I promise, although it maybe a little while, until my time here is done. But you go on ahead of me and find your mom and your dad, keep an out for me. I love you child, more than anything in this world."

"Ill... keep watching... than for... you. Don't be.. to long.. Love you... Uncle... Bor..."

Her arm fell gently from his shoulder as her body tensed just one more time and than she lay completely still in his arms. Sergei clenched his fist as he tightened his eye's so hard that every muscle in his face hurt, he gritted his teeth as he fought the urge to scream violently. Sergei removed his hand from her eye's, her once vibrant blue's stared at him, they were faded now and lifeless. He swallowed hard as he place a hand over her eye's and closed them. Slowly and painfully he stood up with her in his arms, he began his way up the road. Things almost seemed to blur over the next many hours, time almost seemed to spin out of control before it finally slowed down as Sergei was standing in front of a three fresh graves, a crude wooden cross lay before each of them. He stood there and stared at it as the night was starting to set and the sun was fading under the horizon.

"My dear friend I am sorry... I could not keep my promise to keep her safe. I only hope... that you can forgive me.. you and your family were my salvation. You took in an old Russian immigrant with such a troubled past and made him your brother. You made him the godfather of your daughter and in all my life there was no greater honor.

Sergei bent down to his knee before one of the graves, removing a knife from within his jacket pocket he lay it over his outstretched hand.

"I don't know if there is anything I can do to right what has happened.. I am just an old man now. But I promise you on my blood that I will NOT let this go unpunished! I swear it on my own life that I will fight for you, your daughter and your wife until my dieing breath, this I swear."

Sergei cut his own hand with the knife, he squeezed his hand as the blood trickled out and onto the dirt over the fresh grave. He put his hand to his mouth and closed his eye's nodding his head before finally getting up and walking away from the graves, this would be his last go around even if it meant he was breaking his oath to never be that man again. It was only the beginning but he would see the end or die fighting for it.

~They say the measure of a man is determined by the life in which they live. When I look back upon my life, it is hard to see beyond the injustices that influenced my life. I was born into nothing, I had nothing and I could not long for anything for it was but a dream. My parents were killed, and the manner in which they died... it made me so mad that I even cursed their names, the same people or rather the only people that ever loved me. My fate was tied to theirs and my life was turned to a bitter pain, an cursed existence. Even when I rose above it all and made a name for myself, there was no escaping the past I had come from. They say the older we get the more clarity we seem to obtain and things that seemed to clear cut suddenly become fogged by doubt. You exchange your absolute certainty for the ability to see the truth beyond the perception that was pushed upon you... and for the first time you see the world with your own eye's instead of another.

I find myself thinking of the meaning of that saying now that my life might come to the grand final moments before leaving this world for another. It is a most wondrous thing how when one faces the oldest concept of time, when one faces their own mortality. You start to think about all the things you otherwise never would, you start to question if your life amounted to everything you made believe it did. In the face of the war we now face in these times, even I a man who has never looked backed regardless of circumstance is now trying to find resolve within himself for all the years he believed in a lie. Trying to make himself believe that the people whom mattered the most are proud of him, trying to leave this life knowing that it made a difference before the very end.

Heh... its almost funny to me how much those things I didn't think I cared about are now conflicting me at every step. But I am not ready to die just yet, no matter how much I seek to resolve the moral dilemmas deep down. It has never been in me to just give up and die, to go without a single word or fist on the contrary. I am an old man, that is the truth, but I am not so old that I can not still fight just one more time. I am not so old that I can not make a difference just one more time, that I can not try to win this war and find the peace I once knew. People say I am stubborn... its probably true because as I look out upon this war torn hell, I have never felt more will to live, felt more resolve for my existence nor felt more confidence welling up inside of me than I do now. There is a fire burning in my belly for the first time in many years, and anger deep down. My story is not done, not by a long shot, and if and when the time comes for this story to end... I vow I will make it such an end, that is worthy of remembrance. After all I still have my pride after all, and that's more than enough for now. ~

The Survivor's Club (High Casual)

Sergei stands around 6'1" with a rather stout yet firm appearance. He is pretty well taken care of for the most part, his body is not as muscular as it once was but he is fit for his age. Like most Russians he has a rather toughened face with a grizzled beard albeit going on salt and pepper colored with faded brown thrown into the mix. Heavy set eyebrows and a fairly full head of salt and peppered brown hair that is medium length. His eye's are a dark brown and always have the appearance on one who has much pride within themselves. Being one for more neutral colored clothes he is usually wearing something that is of a black and gray pigment. As he is from an older generation he can often be seen wearing a suit like build. This build usually consists of a black dress shirt, long overcoat, a scarf usually around his neck, a pair of dress shoes and dress pants, and of course his signature Ushanka and dark shaded glasses.

It is unfortunate in that current age that such attire is not really suited like it once was in a more civilized world. Many aspects have changed since the start of the war. Now and days his hair a bit longer and his beard a bit more erratic. Still sticking to neutral colors he can most commonly be seen wearing a pair of scuffed black boots, loose faded black dress pants, a plain black t-shirt covered by a torn black overcoat, dirty scarf and still his signature Ushanka and now cracked dark shaded glasses.

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53



Male

Sergei Vasily Borodin was born in a small village outside of Moscow, Russia to a peasant father and mother who did not have much to their names. Like much of Russian at the time, life was fairly hard in his lands and often filled with strife and power struggles and a mounting distrust among officials. Much of his childhood days were spent wrapped in a thin blanket trying to keep warm or on the streets trying to find food while his parents spent their days trying to make some currency to survive. Unable to get any kind of formal education, Sergei was home schooled, at least when his parents had the time to do so and when he was old enough he became an apprentice to a local butcher where he was able to make little currency to help support himself and his family.

It was in his early teenage years that life really took a turn for the worst, due to high tensions within Moscow a small uprising gave way and a lot of angry people stupidly tried to march on the Kremlin and unfortunately his parents were among them. Suffice to say that they died that day which in any case was better than being put in facility for the rest of their lives. After their deaths Sergei no longer had anyone in his life, being what his parents had done he was scorned as if he had been their himself and even worse he was often abused by the local law enforcement. It is safe to say that these years were if anything the worst for him and at the same time the most emotionally damning.

It was in his early adulthood that he attempted to change his fortune, he attempted to join the Russian Armed Forces. Wanting to prove he was not like his foolish parents and wanting to make a name for himself, he was however rejected because his parents indiscretions hanged over his head still. Try as he may, Sergei was a cursed man and no one would have him, no money, no home, not ever a friend. It was fortunate for him when he was approached by a ranking member in the SRV two years later. In not so many words the man who truly has no name told Sergei that because of his parents ignorance he would forever be an enemy to mother Russia. That was merely the reality he faced, but if so chose he could choose to disappear and become someone who worked within the shadows. Knowing his future was set in stone at that point, Sergei accepted the offer and thus began a career in Intelligence.

Much of what transpired between Sergei's 20th year of life to his 40th year of life is highly unknown. For all anyone who cared, he had literally disappeared from the world, not that anyone was blinking an eye over it. When his name did eventually resurface it was followed by enemy of the Federation. It is unclear what transpired to make Sergei a traitor, no one ever knew the full truth, and when he disappeared completely and could not be found it would remain a mystery. Around the time people began to forget the brief commotion Sergei appeared once more but in a small town in America. He opened up a butchers shop and catered happily to the local residents. An it was up until the war began that he happily enjoyed a new life far from the country that had tortured him most his life.

They often say that happiness is a fleeting thing and is not truly meant to last, this was the case for Sergei and many people on that fateful day when the world went to utter hell. May 16th would forever hold a burning point in his memory. When that day had started it was like any other since his defection so many years ago. But the very moment the clock stroked 11:00 am, the life he knew, was over. Although he tries hard to forget that day, that moment in time, his mind refuses to let those images go from his conscious. All the things he had seen in this world up until that point could not prepare him for what later on he came to know as the Infernal, attacked his small town and all but obliterated the many friends he had made there.

He should have died that day, he knows that more than he has known anything else in his entire life. Maybe it was the training from his previous life, maybe it was luck, maybe... just maybe God decided that it was not his time just yet. But he escaped from that living hell, but not without scars both mental and physical thrust upon him by the spawn of pure hell. The memories of knowing that he couldn't save anyone even though he tried, they all died and he became the bearer of their memories. He did not give up that day or the many days since, if was due to stubbornness or anger or even that he could not bare to take his own life, it is unknown.

All that he truly knows is he heard the words of the so called Prophets, he knows what must be done. If it is true or not, the only thing he had to hold onto now is the belief that if they could win this war than everything could go back to the way it was. While he never wanted to go back to old way of life, he has resigned himself to the fact that he must do so if only to try and find the peace he loved so much.

____________________________________________________________________________________________
______________________________________________________

Like any true Russian, Sergei holds a very high amount of pride, this is something that can lead to both strength and clarity of mind and a never ending stubbornness that any older man might have. At his very core he is good man, a generous man, someone who is both kind to those who deserve it and a nightmare to those who would hurt others. In his heart he wants nothing more than a solitary life, one where he can be free to live in happiness in his own way, but at the same time he is often haunted by his past and who he once was. Sergei is an older man and like many older man he is quite wise and tend look at things in a far less serious way than the young. He has a certain way about him, a certain persona that makes people feel easy around him and just a calming energy. He is wise beyond his years and knows what to say when the time is right.

• Wise: Sergei is very wise and a very smart man, given his past life he was often forced to think on his feet and solve problems that could mean life or death. This way of life has made him quite a thinker. You could say it was this wisdom that got him out of that small town when the Infernal destroyed it.
• Combat: You wouldn't think it looking at the man and how kind he is but Sergei is a trained combatant, his specialty being in hand to hand techniques. If your not prepared for it he could put you in a rather nasty hold that would be hard to get out of or give you a rather well aimed shot to your body that would reek havoc on you in the long run.
• Blades: Sergei is good with sharp edges, almost too good at it, being a butcher for a good amount of years, he knows how to cut meat with good proficiency if it be dead beef or an opponent. An he is also pretty good at twirling knives for the younger children who find joy in it, maybe evening juggling but than again nearly losing a thumb has dissuaded him from doing that again.
• Age: They say a man who can't accept reality is often the fool who dies the quickest, Sergei is no fool so even he knows he is far from that strong man he used to be, decidedly so in some cases. If he wants to accept it or not his body has aged and with it comes the various pains one will get not only in general but from a life of action. It is this reason that he is not as fast or as precise as he once was, not like the younger generations.
• Endurance: The mind is willing but the body isn't, a very cold sediment to a man who could once take so much damage. Life however often has other plans and in Sergei's case he can not keep going like he used to, he tires a lot faster than before and in a world where one needs to run this can be a dangerous weakness to have. While he is in pretty good shape for his age, he won't be able to run miles on end without a rest, and old injuries paining him even more so.
• Stubborn: An old man who isn't stubborn would indeed be a miracle, but Sergei is not that miracle and it can sometimes put him in danger. When your full of pride, and you care way too much, and your too stubborn to accept certain things it can lead to mayhem. Sergei hates death, he does not fear it but he does hate it and this leads him to try to and stop it when it comes for someone else. He is far too stubborn to be talked down from doing something he believes is right.

____________________________________________________________________________________________
______________________________________________________

Vityaz-SN

A weapon in which he brought with him when he defected to the U.S. years ago it is an effective Russian based sub machine gun that's has a lot of similarities to the AK-47. It is smaller a bit more compact and uses the common 9×19mm Parabellum round. With a higher fire rate and an auto to semi auto function it is a versatile weapon for the right user. Its clip is capable of holding thirty rounds and there is a flashlight attached near the barrel for dark area's.

Current Ammo Count: 2 Full clips plus one half clip in the chamber (75 Rounds)

MR-412 REX

Another gun he brought with him during his defection the MR-412 is an double / single action shot variant of the more commonly known magnum. With a break action chamber and auto eject function this weapon was a special for those who could use it correctly. Chambered for the 357. magnum round with a six barrel capacity, it is a fairly strong weapon and moderately powerful.

Current Ammo Count: 12 rounds plus 4 in the chamber (16 rounds)

Japanese Slicer

About the only weapon that is not brought from Russia, this is a Japanese slicing knife. In fact it is the very same knife he was using the day everything went to hell. Razor sharp and of a good length it can be quite lethal in a close quarters battle however it is still a kitchen knife so it does lack proper balance. In any event he can not bare to part with it, as it is the only piece of his previous life he has left.

Leather Pack (Items)

He carries around an old leather backpack that holds his assorted items albeit he does not carry much on himself as he tries to remain light for long distances of travel.

• 1x Bottle of 1950 Jewel of Russia (wrapped heavily to avoid breakage)
• 1x Knife sharpener
• 2x 750 mml water bottles
• 1x Large bag of homemade beef jerky (Teriyaki flavor)
• 1x Length of military strength cord

ff8333

Theme Song

____________________________________________________________________________________________
______________________________________________________

"Do you think... that I will see my mom and dad again in heaven?"

Sergei was silent as he sat upon the scorched asphalt his back pressed up against the crumbling brick of the building behind him. He was fighting back the tears welling in the corner of his eye's as a young girl lay in his arms. She was only fourteen, a young girl he had know since she was born, she was the prettiest, gentle thing he had ever known. She had her moms light blonde hair and her dads blue eye's and she was always the sweetest child. He found so much strength in her bright smile but now he could hardly look upon her. Her once platinum blonde hair was now drenched in blood, dried and caked, clinging to her forehead, her body was torn in many places, claw marks that gashed deep, her clothing torn to shreds in many places. He had tried... tried so hard to protect her from those things... that hell spawn. The pain from his own wounds barely seemed to register to him now.

Sergei his hand over her eye's to block her view from the streets around them, as he looked around there were bodies everywhere both old and young. Some were torn apart, others cut to shreds, some were even missing limbs, the massacre that had taken place here was unforgivable. The tears he had fought began to move down his cheeks as he looked upon her... finally after trying to avoid it. Her question played in his head, at that point he was unsure if God was even a real being anymore... and if he was than how could he allow such evil to do this? She was just a baby to him, she was so young and had everything ahead of and now at the end on a street of... horrors she was gonna die, right in his arms.

"I do believe so my dear girl. I know they are up their right now waiting for you, because I know better than most just how much they love you."

Sergei just let the tears fall as her body was shuddering in his arms, he looked up at the sky, it was so filled with storm clouds... it was so dark... almost fitting.

"I am scared, I don't want to die..."

Her words sounded weaker than before, he could feel the warm tears on the hand over her eye's as he grip on his shoulder tightened.

"There is nothing to be scared dear girl, dieing is... almost like going to sleep and waking up in a whole new world. In fact your just starting a new life in a beautiful place. No more tears, no more pain, no more fear. I promise you that the next you open your eye's... there will no more worries and no more regrets."

Sergei's free hand tightened as he tried so hard to believe in his own words, he felt anger welling up inside of himself. What kind of monster could do something like this? What kind of beast could be so merciless?

"Will I... see you again Uncle Borodin?"

Her grip slowly loosened as her breathing was becoming more ragged, she did not have much longer left now, he could feel her slipping away.

"You will see me again my girl, I promise, although it maybe a little while, until my time here is done. But you go on ahead of me and find your mom and your dad, keep an out for me. I love you child, more than anything in this world."

"Ill... keep watching... than for... you. Don't be.. to long.. Love you... Uncle... Bor..."

Her arm fell gently from his shoulder as her body tensed just one more time and than she lay completely still in his arms. Sergei clenched his fist as he tightened his eye's so hard that every muscle in his face hurt, he gritted his teeth as he fought the urge to scream violently. Sergei removed his hand from her eye's, her once vibrant blue's stared at him, they were faded now and lifeless. He swallowed hard as he place a hand over her eye's and closed them. Slowly and painfully he stood up with her in his arms, he began his way up the road. Things almost seemed to blur over the next many hours, time almost seemed to spin out of control before it finally slowed down as Sergei was standing in front of a three fresh graves, a crude wooden cross lay before each of them. He stood there and stared at it as the night was starting to set and the sun was fading under the horizon.

"My dear friend I am sorry... I could not keep my promise to keep her safe. I only hope... that you can forgive me.. you and your family were my salvation. You took in an old Russian immigrant with such a troubled past and made him your brother. You made him the godfather of your daughter and in all my life there was no greater honor.

Sergei bent down to his knee before one of the graves, removing a knife from within his jacket pocket he lay it over his outstretched hand.

"I don't know if there is anything I can do to right what has happened.. I am just an old man now. But I promise you on my blood that I will NOT let this go unpunished! I swear it on my own life that I will fight for you, your daughter and your wife until my dieing breath, this I swear."

Sergei cut his own hand with the knife, he squeezed his hand as the blood trickled out and onto the dirt over the fresh grave. He put his hand to his mouth and closed his eye's nodding his head before finally getting up and walking away from the graves, this would be his last go around even if it meant he was breaking his oath to never be that man again. It was only the beginning but he would see the end or die fighting for it.

~They say the measure of a man is determined by the life in which they live. When I look back upon my life, it is hard to see beyond the injustices that influenced my life. I was born into nothing, I had nothing and I could not long for anything for it was but a dream. My parents were killed, and the manner in which they died... it made me so mad that I even cursed their names, the same people or rather the only people that ever loved me. My fate was tied to theirs and my life was turned to a bitter pain, an cursed existence. Even when I rose above it all and made a name for myself, there was no escaping the past I had come from. They say the older we get the more clarity we seem to obtain and things that seemed to clear cut suddenly become fogged by doubt. You exchange your absolute certainty for the ability to see the truth beyond the perception that was pushed upon you... and for the first time you see the world with your own eye's instead of another.

I find myself thinking of the meaning of that saying now that my life might come to the grand final moments before leaving this world for another. It is a most wondrous thing how when one faces the oldest concept of time, when one faces their own mortality. You start to think about all the things you otherwise never would, you start to question if your life amounted to everything you made believe it did. In the face of the war we now face in these times, even I a man who has never looked backed regardless of circumstance is now trying to find resolve within himself for all the years he believed in a lie. Trying to make himself believe that the people whom mattered the most are proud of him, trying to leave this life knowing that it made a difference before the very end.

Heh... its almost funny to me how much those things I didn't think I cared about are now conflicting me at every step. But I am not ready to die just yet, no matter how much I seek to resolve the moral dilemmas deep down. It has never been in me to just give up and die, to go without a single word or fist on the contrary. I am an old man, that is the truth, but I am not so old that I can not still fight just one more time. I am not so old that I can not make a difference just one more time, that I can not try to win this war and find the peace I once knew. People say I am stubborn... its probably true because as I look out upon this war torn hell, I have never felt more will to live, felt more resolve for my existence nor felt more confidence welling up inside of me than I do now. There is a fire burning in my belly for the first time in many years, and anger deep down. My story is not done, not by a long shot, and if and when the time comes for this story to end... I vow I will make it such an end, that is worthy of remembrance. After all I still have my pride after all, and that's more than enough for now. ~

Buffy inspired roleplay anyone?

So Females are now Males and Males are now Females. Would Straights be Gay and Gays be Straight?

Would Male Buffy still be the Slayer or would a female Xander be the Slayer?

@Burning Kitty

You may have taken the mirror universe a bit too seriously haha than again I wrote this at 4 in the morning and wasn't as informal as I would have liked to be. The whole reason for a mirror universe isn't to switch every single thing around and it be completely opposite. I am doing it this way because I want to have a future arc in the story where there is a rift that is opened between the two respected universes and slayer meets slayer scooby gang meets scooby gang. I switched certain aspects around for future arcs in the story like the slayer being male as apposed to female, there will be other aspects but to clarify we wont have female Xander lol, its an interesting idea but its not that kind of mirrored universe. Although if you really wanted to do that than I suppose its not out of context in this case.

Would the Slayer be an NPC? Could be problematic having the Slayer as a PC in a group roleplay, as they're the main character.

@MiddleEarthRoze

If the slayer is an actual PC character they would be played by me or someone I trust. People do tend to get a bit carried away with such a powerful character. I would most likely play the character myself, an NPC slayer would, in my opinion anyways, be a too much like a cardboard cutout. It would be a lot like the show itself, the whole coming to terms with it and the emotional impact it had and its hard to do that if its just an NPC.

The Survivor's Club (High Casual)

@Cairo

I'm down, I will start working up a CS.

Buffy inspired roleplay anyone?

So I have been really feeling a Buffy inspired roleplay here. I am currently looking for five maybe six people to do this roleplay with. My idea is to exist within a mirrored universe, or in other words a universe that is the exact opposite of the other. A good example is that slayers in this universe are predominately male instead of female. There will be notable differences however while Buffy and her gang are fighting evil, we will be doing the exact same in our universe at the exact same time frame. Essentially I want us to build our own version of the Buffy universe in our own image. Right now I am going to keep this real short, I want to see if I can get some interest first before I go more indepth on the story itself and other mechanics. There a few things below to kind of introduce you to the story and the main villians for the first arc of our journey.

Short Prologue

Prologue

Port of San Francisco
California
June 30th of 1996
1:00 am

“Kill her!”

The vampire stripling hissed the words through the chilly morning air, the breath of the syllables causing a slight white mist to form at the mouth. The three young vampires had been hunting on that particular morning for lone dock workers, it was after all a semi-busy dock at night. There was plenty of opportunity to take workers here and there without being seen. On this particular night, however, none of them had been prepared to meet the stranger who had seemingly appeared out of nowhere. She was a vampire that was obvious from the start, but she was a vampire unlike any that had been seen before. Standing at 5'8” in that early morning moonlight, her body was pale and white, it almost glistened in the halved moon. Her eye's were a deep hue of orange and reds, hair extended over her almost elegant curves and down her back, a deep black. Her body was covered faintly by what seemed to be pieces of metal inspired by what some would classify as Egyptian. Blood was slowly dribbling from her pale lips and down her pale chest, the dead dock worker nearby was whiter than she, large fang marks within his neck and his body obviously drained.

The female vampire before them crossed her arms almost as if impatient as the two nearest striplings charged her. Neither one of them made it within twenty feet before a second opponent appeared as if out of nowhere. Another vampire appeared out of thin air, unlike the first this one was huge in his stature. He was close to 6'8” and had an extremely muscular but pale skinned physique. His hair was blackened and long, his eye's were a deep burning red and filled with hatred. He like the female was covered by ancient Egyptian styled armor. His body was covered in ancient markings, many in the language of the Egyptians. The two vampire striplings flew back hard and hit the ground as the huge vampire slammed them with unnatural force. They tumbled head over heels violently before slowing and scraping across the ground leaving a trail of skin and blood. His eye's were filled with cold rage as he looked at the still standing stripling.

“You... pathetic insects. You shall not encroach upon the Goddess of Vampires. I shall take your heads from your shoulders for your audacity.”

The vampires voice was cold and menacing, matching his evil eye's perfectly, it was low and almost demonic as he took a step towards the remaining stripling. It was obvious the remaining vampire was afraid as he took a step back, but the moment he did the large vampire disappeared from site and was instantly in front of the other. With a huge hand he wrapped his fingers all the way around the striplings neck and squeezed. There was no fighting the power that gripped the stripling, try as he may he could not even move the large hand ripping into his throat.

“Osiris, leave him to me.”

The voice that sounded was even more chilling that Osiris's, the female vampire was now standing beside Osiris, her hand placed on his large forearm.

“Yes Queen Isab, your will is my command.”

The large hand released the grip on the striplings neck as he fell to the ground, his pale neck was darkened heavily from the strong grip. The young vampire had no energy now, it was almost like it had been sucked out of his body, he gritted his bare fangs hissing weakly as Queen Isab approached. He watched her hips sway almost hypnotically as she walked, he found himself moving his head back and forth before she approached and stood above him. She leaned down slowly and put her hand out, her softened skin caressed the striplings face, she bore her eye's into his, try as he might there was no turning from her terrifying yet hypnotic gaze.

“My dear insect, you are quite weak aren't you? It is almost... painful, to see such a thing before me. It seems that in this place, you are but little children, the mere fact that you attacked me speaks for your ignorance. Those who dare to attack me die, there is but no other recourse for such an offense. But in your case, you have use to me. This in itself is the only reason your head has not left your shoulders. It is too late for your... companions, for none have ever survived Osiris's strength. But for you I will give you a chance, to serve your Queen. You see I am new to these lands, and I desire a guide, a lowly insect to show me the way. Choose to do this and I will grant you... power, and I will not rend your head from your shoulders.”

The stripling shuddered as she spoke, his eye's were wide with fear, a feeling that had not been felt since his death. Finally he was able to remove his eye's from Queen Isab, and they were immediately caught by Osiris who's glare was like a knife rending into his chest. He knew the alternative and the consequence of his answer if it were to be no, knowing his fate he slowly let himself go forward to his hands as he bowed his head low to the ground.

“I will... serve you, my Queen.”

As soon as the words left his lips, he was wrenched from the ground by Osiris, he was put into a reversed bear hug, the huge arms compressing him, stopping all movement. His eye's were filled with confusion as he was placed at eye level with Queen Isab whom approached and ripped his shirt clean open revealing his chest to her. She raised her hand, her nails were long and sharpened, black to the tips, placing the dagger like edges on his chest above his heart she inserted them into the skin. He screamed in pain, she twisted her hand cutting the skin like paper in a circle, going even deeper her palm touched his skin. When she finally removed her hand a black mark was on his chest, it appeared to be an ancient marking of unknown origins.

Osiris released him as his feet hit the ground, he looked into the eye's of Queen Isab, his eye's now the hue of orange and red. Immediately going down to one knee he bowed before her.

“How can I serve you, my queen?”

Queen Isab towered over him once more as she raised her hand one more time and place it on his head.

“You will show me the way to Sunnydale my new pawn.”

“Yes.. my Queen.”

Queen Isab

Osiris

I am also at this time looking for a dedicated CO-GM if anyone finds themselves interested. If your into this story thus far than you know what to do. I only ask that if you intend to apply please, please, stick with the story, don't apply with the intention of leaving soon after we get going.