Dorian Marrik  


 

The First  |  The Last  |  The Elder

Vampyre /ˈVæm.paɪ.ə(ɹ)

Creator of a Blood Line

Founder of the Black Gate Society

""I am the bird on whose wings the great secrets lie, the man whose words quell the rage and sorrow of lesser souls. Wisdom lies in my soul, for centuries of pain burn within my great heart. My children are many...yet we are so few. Aeternitas quod post mea oculi."

 

 

"Shall I tell you my story?"

Dorian's tale begins nearly two aeons ago, in what is now known as East Africa- the age before an age. Scientists say that they date the modern human race back only a few dozen millennia ago...but the truth is, they are far older. How does one know? Well...Dorian was there, and so were his entire family. They were among the nearly twelve thousand strong humans that existed at the time, mortals made by the gods to serve a purpose- worshipers, and warriors. The species as a whole were hunters, fighters, relentless in their task, and devoted to their people. War was all too common, and the mortality rate was high. Yet, one tribe was different- the Mair'ka. One of the oldest tribes founded, they were intelligent, capable of complex language and crafting of homes and weapons. Their people were nomadic, yet strong willed and hardy.

At the head of the tribe was Ar'du, and his mate, Ma'llul- the patriarch and matriarch of the grand people. Their word was law, and none disobeyed. They had 4 children, Za'luch, Brena, De'ku, and Du'ri, all wise and creative. However, they would not remain this way. Over the span of ten years, the peoples moved from Africa to the highlands of Scotland, where they encountered their greatest allies...and worst foes. The witches themselves were a strong people, made by the gods before man, they were wise and arrogant, and often brought storms to cleanse the land. Among the first tribes to settle, was the Ke'woo- powerful witches, who could summon fire from the skies, and dry the rivers. It was this clan that met with the Mair'ka, and made with them a pact in blood- gifting them with lands to the North, and plentiful growth for centuries to come.

Yet peace was not to last. On the eighth year of their agreement, the Mair'ka broke the pact, and raided the Ke'woo's great tree- the Ygyama, where they had hollowed out a home for all. Dozens were slaughtered, and the tree damaged beyond reason. The Mair'ka returned home with fruit, vegetables, meats, and intricate trinkets from another world. It was this very act that sealed their fate. The remaining Ke'woo led their own raid, and brought down a horrendous storm from the sky. Fire washed through the land, the earth quaked, and the very woods came alive with darkened rage. When at last only the head family remained, the Ke'woo laid upon them a curse- no longer would they age, nor feel the warmth of the sun. Their blood would hunger, and they would be known as monsters to all. 

From that day on, the Mair'ka were no more...broken beyond repair. However, not all was lost- while cursed to live only at night, and forever hungering for the blood of man, the family possessed incredible gifts. They were stronger than the mightiest man, able to shatter rock; their speed was beyond the animals, able to run as if the winds were at their feet; their bodies, once able to ail from sickness and wounds, healed and became impervious to damage from almost all things; and their senses made the greatest of predators shame itself. Among these gifts, one stood above all- the ability to make others like them, with the use of their accursed blood. Twas this that saved the family, for with that blood, they were able to build an army the likes of which could, and cannot, be rivaled.

 


Dorian was different from his family though- while they sought to wreak war upon the Ke'woo, he sought knowledge and power. He separated himself from his family for centuries, scouring the land and leaving tablets of stone and chalf in his wake. His mark was left on the world forever, as his writings were discovered eons later by the earliest civilizations. From these writings came the first languages, writings on cave walls, and scriptures in stone. Dozens of different cultures founded their alphabets on him, and in time, this developed into the singular written alphabet made by the Phoenicians- Proto-Canaanite. Later, the Greeks and Romans developed Latin, which became the language upon which many were formed.

Across time, Dorian has played some small part in the events of the world, from great tragedies, to grand epics, to the advent of an era. He was there when the last of the mammoths were slain, the creation of the first language, the construction and later destruction of the first grand city, and later- the rise of Greece. From there he participated in the construction of Rome, the rise of democracy in Athens, the birth and death of Confucius, Socrates' first declaration, and eventually- the events of Jesus Christ (someone he came to detest due to his false fame). After this point in time, Dorian vanished for the better part of seven hundred years, only popping up roughly a millennium later, at the start of the First Crusade in 1099 AD. Upon his return, it was revealed that he had been staked and beheaded by angry villagers sometime after the death of Caligula, and left in a stone sarcophagus to rot. 

Over the course of the next three hundred years, Dorian explored the eastern continents, learning much of how the world had changed. Many cities had been built, and many had been torn down- evidence of his time away. In the year 1349, he joined the newly established University of Prague, and stayed his years there as a professor in history and ideals. This lasted for the better half of twenty years, before he faked his death to avoid suspicion. From there, he made his way west, where he took part in the trial of Joan of Arc, and the coronation of King Henry VI in France. Nearly a century later, he became the lover and muse of a young Leonardo da Vinci in 1472, before leaving his side in 1489- only three decades before the man's death. Later he became the secreted lover of Raphael, who in 1520, aided in his 'death', and turned him into a vampyre. They parted ways in 1552, after which point Dorian remained alone for nearly another forty years, simply enjoying his home in Paris until the year 1587, when he traveled to Italy, and crossed paths with Galileo Galilei. 

The two spent an innordinate amount of time together, before Galileo abandoned Dorian to continue his research. After that, Dorian was once more apprehended, this times at the hands of one of his younger progeny- a women named Doris Yarma. She had sworn to bring him to heel, and used her newly gained powers to imprison him in his family's tomb for a century. He was later rescued by his sister, Brennan, who revived him with her blood, and brought him back to France to recover. Thanks to the efforts of his family, they'd been hounded back to his home, which now hosted the finest security in Europe- a full score of ancient vampyres. In the year 1795, Dorian joined the French military, and served as a lieutenant under Napoleon Bonaparte. The two were oddly arranged lovers, sneaking away at times before battle or locking themselves in the strategy room. When Napoleon supposedly died of a stomach ulcer, Dorian fed him his blood, and once more added an immortal to the world. They did not however remain together, and Dorian quickly left. Much of the time after that is left unknown, that is until 1968.

It was the summer of 1968, a Sunday morning. Dorian strolled the streets of New York City, his head held low, and his recently created sun ring bound to his finger. A grin was on his face, for the news spoke of good tidings in Vietnam- news that pleased him, under the circumstances. He crossed the street from South Ave. onwards towards a bakery, barely stopping to look at the cars in his way. The moment he crossed, he knew he was screwed. Standing in front of the bakery was the youngest of the Kenwood family- Jakob. A fetching lad by all accounts, and possibly the most gentlemanly of them all. The pair had met once before, in the city of Prague during Dorian's tenure. They'd exchanged feelings, but had split off before anything could come of it.

Breathing in, the vampyre strolled over, and so their new life began. For two and a half years, Dorian and Jakob shared a secret relationship, one that was agreed on by one side, while the other held no prospects of love for it. Things weren't meant to last though, as on the night of July 18th, 1970, things came to a brutal halt. Dorian's father returned home that night with a gift for his son, and without warning, entered the room. He had indeed expected Dorian to be caught with a lover...but not Jakob. Upon his discovery of their relationship, he flung the gift away, and dragged Jakob back to his family, flinging him to them in a fit of rage. Thankfully, the lad survived...and Dorian...well, he got something worse. Once more dragged to the family crypt, he was stocked there for the better part of forty-eight years, until a collective of his sirelings dug him up. They gave their lives to resurrect him, and in so doing awakened the ancient immortal. Now weakened, Dorian's path stands uncertain...and undone...

Black Gate - Shadows Personified

 

Sometime after the construction of Rome, Dorian disappeared for a time, entirely vanishing from history for a few years. Few know the secret of why, and those that do, are either amongst those belonging to Dorian's inner circle, or long since dead. The truth of the matter is that Dorian began to collect minds of the highest order- people bent on the idea of collecting and amassing the greatest collection of knowledge known to the world. His first five members were amongst his sirelings- vampyres of elder age. Together, they formed a secretive society, known only as Niger In Porta or The Black Gate. Over the course of centuries, the organization's ranks swelled, including the likes of Alexander the Great, Confucius, Socrates, Julius Caesar, Ganghes Khan, and many more. When Dorian left the world for his slumber, the organization took its greatest steps, and brought technology to the world- inventions beyond imagining. Through the workings of magick and tech, they created things known only to the gods.

A millennium later, mankind felt the tithes of Leonardo da Vinci, who took his role among the Black Gate whilst with Dorian. Later, Raphael joined, replacing the dead inventor. In time, the society made the leap forward, and forced the world to see the Industrial Age- the Era of Steam. From trains, to engines, to vehicular travel, the vampyres behind the society made the world better...while hiding behind the shadows of the government. Since that time, they have only enlarged, with many of the organization's highest members being either vampyres...or wealthy businessmen who hide their name. However, one thing is never disputed- all understandings and laws pass through Dorian, regardless of how long it is before such things change. 

The last time that law was unabided, was in 1860, when one of the junior members attempted to bring in automatic machinery. Dorian, sensing the danger that may cause, rejected the project. Naturally it was brought forth anyway, and many suffered for that mistake. The individual behind it, a young upstart by the name of Jonathan Harkman, promptly disappeared. As to how, or why...none know. The only one with the knowledge to that, is Dorian...

Should one ask to join the organization, they must first find their headquarters in London, hidden underneath of a cover shop known as Shatner's Wonders- a wonky camera and antiquity shop. Three knocks on their back door and the given phrase- "Aeternitas quod post mea oculi," and one is able to enter. They are promptly led into a tunnel, which then enters into an elevator. This takes them down nearly three hundred feet, to the true base of operations...


More About The Elder

 

Dorian is an ancient immortal vampyre, one without a relationship currently under his belt. He is generally disinterested in having one, due to losing many of his former lovers and even his family, over the long centuries. If anyone is able to pry deep enough to change this however, they may find themselves in his graces and loving arms.

To say more, Dorian is often described as the kindest of his relatives, the youngest and yet the most passionate. Where all others of his family fight and war over petty squabbles, this vampire focuses on the finer things in life. He acts as a regal historian, possibly even a philosopher, yet never lords himself over those of lesser stature or wealth. Should one see him on the streets, they will find him doing one of two things- donating money to those who need it, and helping individuals in pain or suffering. To top it off, his view of the world is one seen through the eyes of a lover. Over the centuries, he's been powered by love- love of himself, of his partners, and the world itself. He is overall enthused by the modern world, its fallacies and intricate weavings. It is for this reason he likes things such as earthen life, material possessions and men, making friends with the people of the world, curiosities and trinkets, the forests and all their inhabitants, love and forbidden romance, the books and scriptures written by great authors, and the acts of adventure that come from trying new things. He is also a fan of television and films, participating in competitive and friendly games, flirtation of any kind, and surprisingly...his own immortality.


What he does not like however, is death- despite often being the cause of it, murder by any means, other vampyres and their conceted ideals, warfare, physical and verbal abuse for both humanity and himself, and racism born of superiority...

 

Like all members of his family, Dorian possesses a wide variety of powers specific to their species and type. Because of their categorization as the First Borne, or the original vampyres of their breed, they are far more powerful than other lesser vampires. 

-Immortality: Like the witches who created them, vampyres possess infinite lifespans. These immortals cannot die of old age, mortal wounds, or disease. Dorian is millions of years old, yet retains the look of a twenty year old- the age at which he was turned...

-Regeneration: Vampyres can heal far faster than any human, or witch. Given time, they can heal from injuries that would kill ordinary human, or even a weaker vampyre. Gunshots, stab wounds, and (depending on the age) dismemberment cannot kill an vampyre. Only another vampyre, a powerful witch, fire, or extreme exposure to sunlight, can kill a vampyre. Dorian, being one of the First Borne, cannot be killed by anything more or less than one of his siblings dealing the final blow, or a very powerful witch removing his immortality. However, sunlight will severely damage him without a sunlight ring, having his neck snapped will temporarily render him unconscious, and he can be indefinitely put down by being staked, and entombed without blood.

-Inhuman Strength: Vampyres possess considerable strength, with even the youngest being able to dismember humans with ease, or throw them across a room. This ability, like that of a vampyre's speed and regeneration, increases with age. As a First Borne, Dorian is able to lift an excess of two tons, making him one of the strongest vampyres alive.

-Inhuman Speed: Like their strength, this increases with age. The youngest can move as a blur, crossing short distances in mere blinks of an eye. The oldest ones are able to cross entire states in a matter of a few hours. Dorian is said to be the second fastest of his family, able to move like the wind itself.

-Inhuman Senses/Perception: Upon turning, vampyres gain superhuman perception, able to smell the slightest of scents, see the smallest of fibers, hear things that are great distances away, and react to things faster than the human eye can catch. Dorian has said that when he remembers his first day as a vampyre, he felt intense agony, as every sound within three miles echoed in his ears, the simplest smells invaded his nostrils, and the very touch of the ground brought physical pain to his body.

 

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Character Inventory

  • Custom Tailored Suits - Suit 1 | Suit 2 | Suit 3 | Suit 4 | Suit 5 | Suit 6 | Suit 7 | Suit 8 | Suit 9

  • About the Writer (OOC)

    For those of you wanting to know, the author behind this character is named Quinn Martens. I am an experienced roleplayer and writer, having started about six years ago, at the beginning of my middle school journey. Now, I am a senior in high school, going through as a graphics and psychology major. If anyone wants to roleplay, hit me with an Inbox Message, Direct Message, email me, or if you want to- add me on PSN. My preferred themes for writing are fantasy, romance, violence, gore, action, and adventure. Aside from these, I am quite adaptable to most scenarios, and can write paragraph to multi-paragraph, though I have no preference for either.

  • Other Characters Played: Saiid of Ofir and Killian Demet
  • Email: quinn.martens.bobbitt@gmail.com
  • PSN: Deaths_Wrath56

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    Comments

    • At first, he stays where he is.  Blue eyes trailing after Dorian as the Vampyre slips between the trees... then, sighing, the Druid would pad after him quietly, keeping his distance.  At least until the man finally hears his question and stops walking away from him, then Finn crosses his arms over his chest and leans his shoulder against the rough barked belly of a tall oak tree.

      His eyebrows quirk up his brow with amusement when Dorian does finally speak, glancing over his shoulder. "Well, sure.  Ye could walk until ye reached the sea n' then some." He shifts his arm against the tree to shrug, feeling the bark biting into his flesh, though he minds little. "I guess it kinda' depends on where ye wanted to go.  Ye don't really wanna' stay in Scotland, do ye? I'm sure those Hags came with back-up.  Yer too high risk for 'em to just let ye' up n' walk off." His head tips in a canine way. "no doubt they are tracking ye even now-- I'd be.  Our best option is to go somewhere they can't follow.. at least not without help, they can't." and he can't imagine any witch being excited about striking a deal with one of the fae-- or the Danann themselves, who he suspects would side with their Druid regardless of his actions, or companions.. 

      "Mind, what I'm suggesting is just as likely to get ye killed as waitin' for them witches to come get ye, but at least it'll be interestin'."

    • Empire City Casino  |   2:30 AM  |  New York City

       

      The city never slept, or so they said. The casino seemed to be a most adequate example as any, come the falling of the sun. It was a place where neon lights and attention-catching sounds lured in one patron after another with ease. High, dimly lit ceilings seemed to span on for miles up above. Equally as loud and colorful carpeting covered the space beneath his feet. It was an arcade of machines to promise fortune, and plenty of bodies to fill it. To some, the evening may prove successful. For many, many others… perhaps not.

      A ‘business’ meeting had brought the vampire in… as if he was no different than the crowd, the sounds and nostalgic atmosphere pulled him in for the remainder of the night and now into the morning. He could allow himself to be a fool, every once in a while.

      Dominic cleared his throat reluctantly as he reminded himself to take a breath, even if it was for show. In such a place full of distracted bodies, his attempts were minimal for the night. A sip of a glass beside him was to be taken next; the cranberry vodka was one of many. A drink to blend in, something to fend off time with. When he had been offered one too many in a certain position, he would leave to find another place to remain seated. As for now? He had chosen a seat at the end of a long line of machines on one end of the gambling floor, the glass resting on the ledge closest.

      Absently a button was pressed and the slot machine’s wheel would start to spin. Amber hues cast a look around the casino floor in the meanwhile. Dressed formally for the occasion it seemed, the man wore a classic fit black suit tailored to its wearer. A tie would linger absent from the ensemble with a button of his white collared shirt undone, as if in resentment to the idea. Commonly unruly blond locks were even semi-tamed back with the use of product. His arm was propped on the chair’s back in a manner that left his hand dangling loosely. The rings on his right were twisted in a fidgeting manner from time to time.

      The wheel came to a stop and his gaze went back to it. When few of the symbols had settled to match themselves properly, he made another selection and pressed to spin again. His mind meanwhile settled in just as many places. The abundance of white noise. His dealings earlier in the night. And as it was true to instinctive habit… the heartbeats closer to his proximity.

      The visit came not without some precautions taken, for the matter. He knew the casino had perhaps another few hours of tolerability before he would have to take his leave and move to the streets… as if he were coming up for air. For now, he pressed the buttons and gave the machine another spin. His drink was brought up to his lips after.

    • (Okay soooo Serry here's a drifter as said. So it won't be too hard to put her in that setting. Though I do need something to work with.) 

    • ((Alright! Plots! What is known canonically: Dorian has just awoken from a 50 year long involuntary 'slumber', and is gathering his forces again in Paris, France.

    • (So as promised. Now I'm awake. You wanted to discuss threads? Have anything in mind?) 

    • Dorian did not respond for the longest time after Finn questioned him, his head staying forward and arching only to look at the Druid once. He seemed determined to go somewhere...though where? After all, he didn't share the Druid's knowledge of transport and magick. So where exactly could he go? Just continue to walk until he reached civilization? A highway? Naturally, these questions began to assault Dorian after a few moments, causing him to pause in his step and look to Finn. 

      He inhaled a sharp breath, then took to speaking. "I thought we were going somewhere? Is this not the direction in which we must walk? Or is there something I'm missing that you did not wish to share with me?"

    • The Druid wanders for a while, scanning the trees with his second sight.  After a while, he finds what he's looking for--in the shape of a very tall and far older Hazel tree.  It's leaves were autumnal; fiery yellows and reds that made him think of Brigit, and that thought caused him to shutter, like he'd dipped his nuts in ice-water.

      Marking the tree in his mind, he turns and makes his way back to collect his sword and the Vampyre, but Dorian finds him first.  Finn slows, quirking a brow at him.  Then he leans his head to the side, a quizical expression on his face.  He says nothing, although he does appreciate the sympathy on some level.  It's been so, so long, and he's buried his pain deep.

      "Er.. " Turning with him, he stares after the other man, who continues to walk on. "What are ye doin'?" he wonders, honestly.

    • The Druid's clear blue eyes follow Dorian as the man plops down by the edge of the water, where he curls up, making him seem.. so small, almost vulnerable.  But he reminds himself that the man is a vampyre, and of the two of them Finn is far more vulnerable.

      "Ye must forgive me for bein' skeptical.  My experience with vampires in the Old World.. were plenty, and none too benign.  They hunted me across continents, for a time.  Even now, I am an enemy of the Undead," because he unbinds most of them on sight, these days. "among the factions and species who ally themselves with the enemies of my people, vampires have always, always been among them.."

      Finn grimaces then, and turns his face away, to look towards the sky. "No, they..are gone.  Julius Caesar made sure of it during the 1st century- he came to us as a friend, yet he burnt our groves during the night, severing the tethers that would have allowed us to travel to other planes, and then he and his legions slaughtered our hundreds.  As strong as we were, the Roman's too were strong.  As we had the blessings of our gods, so did they.  It was Minerva that let them see through our invisibility, and it was Diana that turned our own hounds against us-- " he sighs bitterly, pushing his fingers through his wild, red hair. "not so long after that, the Roman's began a pogrom of all things Druid, and then not so long after that along came St. Patrick n' introduced Christianity to Ireland-- which was far easier than Druidry.  Instant acceptance, versus innumerous oaths n' conditions, tests n' hardship? Most people weighed one against the other n' then added the whole, it being life-threatening to even say the word, 'Druid' n... we were doomed.  I.. I am the last of us here on Earth."

      Suddenly sick of Scotland, he gets to his feet and turns to stalk through the trees. "Let's go, we've wasted enough time."

    • After cleaning most of the blood from himself, he slips towards the shallows, wading through them to the shore, water dripping down his flat stomach and getting all caught up in the short, trimmed hairs far below his naval.  When he turns back; and finds no sign of Dorian, he activates his second sight, to find the male sitting upon the bottom of the Caledonian, and the corner of his mouth quirks into a small, amused smile.

      Instead of hurrying the Vampyre along, he decides to sit with his back resting against the tree near where he'd hid his weapon, and left his pants in a dirty ball.  Slowly, he crosses his naked legs, and shuts his eyes to focus on mending the rest of the damage the witch had manage to do to his insides, with that wicked knife of hers.  He's not surprised to find traces of a magical, flesh eating poison.  Nor that there was a hex on the blade, allowing it to hold onto some of the blood of the person stabbed with it.  First, he unbinds the hex, and then he focuses on dissolving the poison in his blood-stream.  So when Dorian surfaces, he'd find the Druid waiting nearby, in a trance, although not nearly as deep as the one he'd fallen into while communing with the Elemental.  This time around, he still very much aware of his surroundings.

      Like, for instance, the weight of Dorian's gaze.  And the soft sound of his voice, barely louder than the hush of the water on the shore.. 

      But he doesn't open his eyes, sighing gently instead. "I don't know.  Ye.. don't really seem like others o' yer kind.  N' if ye are, then yer a damn good actor n' that's just as well wit' me.  Why? Don't ye think ye deserved to be saved from that torment?"

    • Finn falls quiet when Dorian doesn't respond, casting his eyes down to the tops of his feet as they descend the slope of the hill, heading towards a thicket of trees that span the bank of the Canal for a few miles.  

      Even without using his second sight, he can tell the man is distracted-- with memories of his past.  The same kind of kine shat he'd warned the Vampyre against back in his dank crypt.  The Druid, knowing better, distances himself from his own memories, of which there was one for every blade of grass in the Highlands and beyond.  He knew if he started letting them in, the torrent would not stop until he was broken anew, every old wound reopened and gushing blood. 

      A warning creeps up his throat to sit on the tip of his tongue as he watches the man, and he parts his lips to voice his concern-- then he thinks better of interfering in the other man's business, closes his mouth, and faces ahead to slip quietly through the foilage into the thicket, careful to avoid the many thorn bushes and nettles that sought the naked flesh of his feet as he heads for the edge of the canal.  

      There's a heady, dizzying scent hanging in the air from the pink and red Poppy flowers on the bank, kept company by pretty white petaled bushes of Hogweed.

       

      Finn stops by one of the trees, unslinging a bloody Fragarach from his back.  Gripping it by the scabbard, he kneels and asks the Earth to open for him, a hole large enough for his sword to slip into easily.  Then he drops it in, asks the Earth to close, reseals the soil and rooted grass where it was before it was disturbed, and stretches back to his feet. 

      He pushes his blood soaked palm through his hair without thinking about it, and grimaces quietly at himself before he works on the button of his jeans, popping them open, then the sliding the zipper down.  He lets them fall unceremoniously and cups his junk in his hand to half-ass shield his manhood from view, even though he's far from shy. 

      Blood and dirt pool off his skin when he slips into the Canal, turning the water a murky, ugly brown color that trails after him.  His shoulders are tense above the water. "It's bloody cold." the Druid reports intelligently, and then drops beneath the surface to soak his head and hopefully get all the gunk out of his hair.

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    "((Alright! Plots! What is known canonically: Dorian has just awoken from a 50 year long involuntary 'slumber', and is gathering his forces again in Paris, France."
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    "Dorian did not respond for the longest time after Finn questioned him, his head staying forward and arching only to look at the Druid once. He seemed determined to go somewhere...though where? After all, he didn't share the Druid's knowledge of tran…"
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    "Dorian barely registered the resulting words, his focus now more trained on the land before them. Those grass hills, and deep forests, the canal of clear water that surged below them...twas a sight like few others. Long ago, his family had camped he…"
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    Dorian Marrik left a comment for Dorian Marrik
    "Dorian watched with an intrigued expression as Finn performed his spell, keeping his sight focused on him. He'd seen such ancient magic before, and was almost always sure that it was a form of natural magic- spells made from the world itself. Yet, h…"
    Jun 28
    Dorian Marrik left a comment for Dorian Marrik
    "Dorian saw nothing in those eyes...a blessing that he took from the gods. Finn appeared to be weak, possibly even entirely damaged. As it was, the vampyre couldn't hear his heartbeat, at least not as heavily as he would hear it normally. Was the dru…"
    Jun 26
    Dorian Marrik left a comment for Dorian Marrik
    "That sounds good to me~ You have any particular thoughts in mind?
     "
    Jun 26
    Dorian Marrik liked Dorian Marrik's discussion Roleplay Alert ~ In Need Of Partners!
    Jun 26
    Dorian Marrik left a comment for Dorian Marrik
    "Tis okie Lorenzo Iadanza :) 
     "
    Jun 26
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