All those old myths, and legends, and fairytales didn't just appear out of nowhere for no good reason. But myths can't be translated the way they did in their ancient soil. We can only find our own meaning in our own time~




Have you ever asked yourself if maybe there was some truth behind every myth?
Have you ever wondered if maybe magic is real?
Have you ever thought that maybe there are things out there we are not meant to know about?


What if you could find out? 
What would you be willing to risk?

Magic is real. And if you look closely enough, you might get a glimpse of it~

 

The muses




The Boy Templar

Edan Ashlin Reed

The child who wanted the world

Born outside London 1996

Son Of The Prince Of Darkness     

    Virgiliu Dragomir Dracula

Son of Dracula

Born in Transylvania 1678

 

The Boy Who Sang Death

Jorah Calder

Näck from the brook.

Born by the earth itself in lake Hornavan, Sweden



The Malefic Mistress Of The West

Ondri-baba Thistleswitch

Witch Queen of the Winkie Country

 Born in Oz many years ago



 

The Dragon At The Roots

Ormarr Skögamyrr

Viking turned Dragon

Born in Sweden around 800 A.D

The Mummy Who Never Died

Anpu-ka-nefer

Ageless sorceror and fanatic

Born in ancient Egypt 2 700 B.C.E


 


The Boy Who Spoke Chaos

Basil Forester Oleander

Unknowingly a deity of chaos and uncertainty

Born Ka'Loki from the deities Kali and Loke





Serpent Of Eternal Darkness

Apep

Darkness and chaos incarnate

Spawned from the primordial darkness itself






The Boy Who Tamed Icarus

Daedalu Kleist

WIP




In The Name Of Fear

Uzuri 'Manthas' Vergas

WIP

 

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  • Nicholas doesn’t need to be told twice. He’s fixing his cuffs and exuding an air of confidence as he strides across the room. One might assume that he’s the owner of such an establishment considering the way he was dressed and interacting with the guests. A few shakes of a tattooed hand as he moves across the lower level floor, dipping his head as curls around the tables and chairs adorning the front and center position. The stage was extravagantly simple. Katrina could’ve done more to spruce it up, but she was a lazy bitch and chose to slave drive her dancers until their feet bled before ever putting money towards something so simple. Ascending the stairs onto the main floor, Nick makes his way to the bar area, asserting himself to even more guests. The dimples in his cheeks deepen as a gaggle of women burst through the entrance, some singing at the top of their lungs. Ain’t that just a damn sight.

    With a groan, Nick leans across the bar counter to whisper something into one of the attendees, who laughs raucously and nods. Fish bowls it is! A lazy deadpan of his gaze allows for a brief glimpse at the rest of the room. One table in particular grabbing his attention from across the way. There sat one of the burly doormen, a woman and a young man who look perhaps as old as Nick himself ~ if not younger. Another peek at the Hens party as they’re being led down the steps towards one of the tables positioned right in front of the stage. Lord have mercy, Nick is going to have these women throwing themselves at him. His eye twitches as he grabs a tray of tumbler glasses filled with an assortment of different alcoholic beverages and diverts the path along the outer line of booths fringing the stage.

    With a cheerful smile, Nick idles alongside the young man’s table and begins setting down three glasses. “On the house. Enjoy the show.” Nick flashes the youngster an impish wink, a hint of his East African accent rolling off his tongue as he accentuates the ‘s’ in show. Something about that table has Nick’s curiosity piqued, but he doesn’t linger. He has other tables to attend to before arriving back at the Hens group. They were loud, some of the women were already slurring their words - no more alcohol for them - and the Bride-to-Be was gorgeous, but certainly not Nick’s taste at all, but he had to show her as much attention as possible. She was /his/ requested guest after all. Grumble, grumble. “Oh! Nick, there you are…” One of the female dancers skittered across the floor towards him, almost barreling into him. Nick stuck his hands out to catch her, one eyebrow raised.

    The pair exchanged words. She threw herself upon him in a hug then wrestled herself off before darting away. That was… awkward… to say the least. The lights flickered, dimming reasonably and were then replaced by a spotlight on the stage as Katrina entered center stage. Showtime.

  • Having gained quite a love of adventures since she'd been coaxed out of her shell, not to mention met Gavi and well we'll not go into that, the young witch appeared within...goddess was this actually a tomb? Mel brushed strands of her red hair out of her face whilst straightening up to her full 4'11 height. Blue eyes glanced around taking in the sights with a glimmer of interest as she skipped a tad tentatively further into the room. It didn't look as if there was anyone else here, at least she wasn't picking up on any emotional signatures in any case. "Hello? Anyone in here?" The witch called out just to be safe. Nothing but her own voice echoed back at her, holding that trace of Irish-esque yet not quite irish accent. 

  • [Thank you for accepting my friendship, would you like to write some time soon? If so I would love to make a plot with the Prince of Darkness.]

  • “Book me in,” Nicholas nods, the cellular device pressed to his ear. His boss is on the other end, her silky but venomous tone seeping through the receiver like a bad smell. Crinkling his nose, Nick held the phone away from himself as Katrina barked orders down the line. She had staff coming out her ears; dancers for days and waitresses covering every corner of the Fox Hole from top to bottom. Why should he have to run a double just because some woman decided to have her Hens celebration on his RDO? He expels a sigh and leans his elbows on the railing overlooking the bay. Grumbling like an old man with arthritis in his knees, Nick mumbles something into the speaker then snaps the phone shut, slipping it into the pocket of his faded jeans. His favorites. A white t-shirt, plain and with a plunging V-neckline, hug his broad tattooed shoulders as he folded himself against the wooden barrier. Small waves crashed against the pier’s support structure, creating white was that rolled onto the sun-kissed sand of Santa Monica.

    November, December and January were always their busiest months, and being Nick had started at the Fox Hole not three months earlier, his boss was working him to the bone.

    At least the money was good. Cash came rolling in in thick wads which lined his pockets nicely at the end of every shift. Doubles and events, like this evening’s Hens party, were some of the best money makes, especially when the women tipped big just to see him do his thing on stage. But tonight something was bothering him. Dark clouds rolled in from offshore and the winds had picked up, bringing with it the impending rainfall. No sooner had he glanced up would the heaven’s crack open and release a torrential amount of rain upon the boardwalk. His arrival at the infamous Fox Hole was greeted with a shake of his head as Nicholas entered through the staff door round back and plopped himself down on one of the spare lounge chairs with a huff, grumbling as he wrung out the water from his shirt. A wolf whistle from nearby drew his gaze and a blinding smile blossomed on his maw. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” Nick’s deep, silky chuckle ripped across the room towards another young performer seated in front of a large mirror fringed with blinding light bulbs.  

    “According to the boss lady, you’re working a double.” A cackle of a laugh echoed back, causing Nick to throw his head and flick water childishly at the other pretty young thing powdering his nose. He didn’t want the double shift. He wanted to go home and take a much needed break, but the money was convincing enough that he’d agreed. Stupid idea really. Grabbing a towel from the rack nearby, Nick would strip out of his sodden clothes and into one of the skimpy costumes provided. This one was a black and white suit and tie combo with matching jock-string. “You’re on, pretty boy.” The skin-scrawling drone of Katrina’s voice followed by the sharp clapping of her clipboard connecting with the other dancer’s head had Nicholas cringing and the other dancer yelping as he shot out of his seat, the heel of his palm rubbing the hit area of his skull. “Hens group will be here within the hour, Nick. In the meantime put some damn shoes on and make the rounds. You know how this goes.”

    With a nod, Nicholas is slipping into a pair of glossy black dress shoes to match his outfit and exiting the curtain into the main area.

  • So many replies to be made @_@

  • Image result for toni mahfud cuteImage result for toni mahfud cuteImage result for toni mahfud cute

    You have been visited by the fairy of eternal gayness.

    Image result for toni mahfud cute

    ~Enjoy~

  • Anzu's eyebrow raises, he doesn't say anything at first, watching the Lynx join it's master.  So, he could tame wild beasts and could speak every language there is to speak.  It's pretty obvious to him now why been sent here in the first place, with order to either gain the creatures trust or make sure it was no longer a possible threat.  Even just a small amount of power was enough to threaten the Queen's already precarious position, apparently.  He reaches up absently to grip the collar through his sleeve that kept him bound to Her, that hummed with Her power, and whispered in Her voice, louder than anything in the world at that moment. 

    It was a mistake.  He feels like crumpling to his knees right then and there, but instead, he turns away slightly, dropping his hand and squeezing it into a fist at his side to hide the trembling.  He focuses on pulling a small amount of energy from any form of life around him, and it fills his being like the breath in his lungs, grounding him. "All of them?" he murmurs. "sounds like it's a busy world inside that head of yours, Näcken." There's a strange amount of warmth in the formality of it all, he's aware of it, although not as to why it was there, in his very own words.

    Turning back, Anzu pushes a hand through his hair and moves to the edge of the lake, sitting, and wrapping one arm around his knee, extending his other leg until his foot neared the water.  The hand he leaned on clasping the hilt of his divine sword. "You won't be missed," he laughs quietly, speaking in a whisper like their conversation was a secret.  And in a sense, it truly wasn't meant for anyone but the creature before him. "On this day, you can pass into Tír Tairngire and stay for a hundred days, and return to have only been away an hour.  But stay any longer than that, and you'll return..." trailing off, he clucks his tongue and offers a lazy shrug. "So the only dragons you need to meet will be the ones in the Land of Youth, if they so decide to show themselves."

    In an instant, Anzu was on his feet again, autumn colored leaves twisting around his form with a soft hiss.  Apparently, there was to be more formalities.  Sure, it had it's importance, but it seemed his life revolved around it these days.  Reminding himself, only semi bitterly that he shouldn't expect any less when his people are a Tribe steeped in ritual.  He stands straighter, shoulders held firm. "It's good to meet you, Jorah Calder," part of him feared it was the creatures true name, but he keeps that to himself for now. "I am Anzu of the Glittering Thorne, and I've too many titles to name, so I won't bother boring you with them.  After all, I am just the messenger.  You will be meeting with Aoibheall, High Queen of a place the mundane would call the Otherworld, but we have many names for." he reaches out slowly, scarred fingers seeking to grip the other man around the wrist and lift him to his feet.

  • [Ooo so many choices to choose from.]

  • [Hello and thanks for the add. Nice profile background picture too.]

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