Name: Serena Lonán

Nicknames: Serry, Rena.

Gender: Female.

Age: Nineteen.

Date Of Birth: July 21st.

Species: Necromancer.

Orientation:  Pansexual.

Home World: Eurilia





Height: 5'5.

Figure: Slender. With Curves.

Hair: Blonde.

Eyes: Grey-Green.

Skin Tone: Fair.

Tattoos/Markings: No Tattoos. But her Torso is littered with very faint white scars from the repeated beatings.






Different, it all comes back to that, she was different. Even amongst a clan of Necromancers Serena Lonán was different. Could it be because she actually held respect for both the living and the dead? Something her father, their whole clan clearly didn't, they'd reanimate the dead by the droves, turn helpless spirits into unwilling and yet forever loyal slaves. For the right price they'd even sell reanimates to rich folk as household servants, it was sickening. Truly sickening. But Serena? From the moment she was born there had always been something different about her. The dead seemed to speak to her, show her visions of things that had already taken place. Snapshots of their deaths? Some begged her, pleaded to be restored to the life wrongfully taken from them, or to have a chance to talk to a loved one left behind. Some still spoke of justice. Of wanting the truth to be known about their demises.

At first, she was confused. She quickly learned this wasn't a normal practice, when she mentioned it to her father the man completely lost it, he'd always looked at her with distain but this was on a whole knew level, he hit her, twice. And as she grew his treatment of her only worsened. He'd continue to beat her, lock her up in her room like she was a bird in a guilded cage when she refused him. Refused to see their gift, their power the way he wanted.  She hated him, hated them. Truly detested them. All but her cousin Nikolya, much like with the rest of their family she couldn't stand his sister Vanessa. But Kol, he understood her she hadn't known it at the time but Kol was different too, he hid it rather well which was how she'd missed the signs. Four years older than her and with the attitude of a man without a care in the world Kol became her confidant.

 By the time she was fourteen, Kol was the only person she trusted, and it probably would have continued to remain that way, that was, at least, until Barnabas found her. You see, she wasn't just different from most of her family in the way she used the unsettling unnatural power of her Necromancy. She was different because the dead trusted, respected her. She'd been helping them for years, despite the beatings she took. Despite feeling like she was in a prison. Her help of them was rewarded, some higher power had assigned the grumpy yet good natured specral guardian to her. Barney became the closest thing the teen Necromancer had to a friend, with the exception of her cousin. Most of the living found her off putting, her aura of unnatural magicks raising the hairs on the back of their necks. Made it hard for her to socialise. 

 Hard but not impossible, she managed to make a few strange aquaintances, including a one night stand with a random guy she went to school with at sixteen. It didn't last long. Not only because the guy had no intention of keeping her close, he'd only wanted one thing. And he hadn't even satisfied her when he got it. No, the reason it didn't last long had more to do with life at home than anything going on at school. Her fathers beatings escalated, she was an embarrassment he told her, a freak, a loser nobody would ever like. Words she took to heart because well, her only friends were her devil may care cousin and a freaking ghost. The last beating was the worst one yet. Daddy dearest almost killed her, probably would have if Kol hadn't interrupted. Shortly after that, she ran away from home, striking out on her own to put as much distance between herself and her family as possible. That was how she found herself on Hellifyno... 




Chaos. The planet she now calls home is a hotbed of Chaos, at eighteen the awkward Necromancer has made a few choice mistakes. Summoning an evil spirit by mistake, being one such example. Or maybe there was that time she'd passed out in the graveyard due to the complications of a resurrection spell gone awry? She'd woken up soaked to the skin from the rain and feeling mightly freaking embarrassed but hey, at least the client was successfully granted a new lease on life? Silver linings. However none of this had fully prepared her for the reality of living here, thank the heavens she has Barnabas, right? It had taken her some time to get used to how different Hellifyno was from home, but she'd come to somewhat feel at home there, eventually.

She'd settled into an apartment, the girl she roomed with wasn't the friendliest of folk. Actually she sort of reminded Serry of Nessa, her bitchy cousin. But it was a roof over her head and she didn't have to talk to the girl. She had Barnabas, and Horace, the fruit bat she'd adopted as her pet, for that. Not to mention text messages and long distance phone calls from Kol, her cousin would harrass her with phone calls if she even deigned to ignore one of his texts. He'd called it familial concern, she'd called it checking up on her. He hadn't denied it. It wasn't the best of living arrangements and she wouldn't say she was happy. But she was content. Until her bitchy roommate threw her out.

Typical right? After sleeping in her car for three days, she took a trip to the Blue Moon Tavern. Intent upon comiserating her luck. What she didn't expect to find was friendship. Acceptance. People that actually liked her. But that was exactly what she did find, friendships. Some more interesting than others, perhaps even harder to define. There's this feeling within her that these awkward, or not so awkward misfits are her people. Her tribe so to speak. She'd never felt like she fit as well as she does around them. Now if only they could prevent the world from ending, just a regular day on Hellifyno. No pressure?

She's also become a guardian, the ghost of a young male had come to her pleading with her to take care of his sister. A sixteen year old girl with a possession problem. His parents had her locked away in a mental institution he told her, mistaking the girls psychic talents for mental illness. Those places weren't the safest for a psychic, they tended to draw in the darkest, most malevolant of spirits. Which was exactly what happened, by the time she'd tracked down the girl, Kerilyn, she'd been overrun by spirits. A dozen of them at least. If the girl hadn't been insane before her stint in the nuthouse she definitely seems it now. No matter. Serena has never been one to give up on anyone, she won't give up on the tiny redhead. 





Evocation of Spirits:- The ability to summon/call a particular spirit to her side. Usually done by visiting their gravesides. Or lighting a candle and burning a piece of paper with their name written upon it. (Also works with a photograph.) 

Reanimation of The Dead:- This is an ability to puppet master dead flesh, there's no actual life within the bodies. They're little more than mindless creatures created by funnelling pure necromantic energy into the vessel. A distasteful talent that Serry has only ever used if her life, or other innocent lives have been in danger. The mindless puppets do the necromancers bidding without question. 

Resurrection Unto New Life:- Now a resurrection is something different entirely. This is the ability to completely restore life, returning the soul to the body. Hitting the master reset button so to speak. It's a ritual she only performs for those willing souls who request it. (Note: resurrected souls under certain circumstances become entirely loyal to the one who raised them.)

Touch of Decay:- On the flip side to the other aspects of death magicks this ability isn't about restoring life, talking to dead souls or creating mindless zombies. This one is all about ending life. It's most commonly used to wither away bodies into dust, like one might in a cremation ritual. But it can be used on the living too. It'll just end their lives and send them on to where they belong.  






Grigori Lonán. (Father. Complete Asshole.)

Cinthia Darnell. (Mother. Walked out on them.) 


Lorna Darnell. (Sister. In Training to be the next evil Queen.) 

Cecily Darnell. (Sister. Never met only knows of. Secretly hopes she's the nice one.) 

Jax Lonán . (Brother. Complete Asshole Junior.)


Luka Lonán. (Aka Uncle Jackass.)

Jezibel Kamryn-Lonán. (Aka Uncle Jackasses Bitchy wife.)

Mirabelle Lonán. (Aka Daddy Dearests Baby sister.)




Nikolya Lonán. (Kol. Cousin. Best Friend. Partner in Crime.)

Vanessa Lonán. (Nessa. Cousin. Vindictive Bitch. P.S I hate you.)



Active Threads:

Finn O'Connell.

 Chris Darkthorn.

 Cassandra Bathory-Dracul.



Plotting/Not Yet Started:


Dorian Marrik.


Profile Style (customize your page with CSS here!)

body /*Background*/{ background-color: #191919; background-image: url("") !important; background-attachment: fixed; background-position: bottom center; background-repeat: repeat; } .content/*Text*/{ color: #fff !important; } a /*Links*/{ color: #999 !important; } a:hover /*Links on Hover*/{ color: #6b6b6b !important; } /* Header Picture */ .banner-header{ width: 100% !Important; height: 150px !Important; background-image:url() !Important; background-repeat: no-repeat !important; background-position: center !Important; background-size: 70% 100% !important; } .banner-frame { border-radius: 50px; border-color: white; border-width: 0px; background-color: transparent !important; } /* hides site name */ .header-siteName{ display:none !important; } /* Hides Social Buttons */ .banner-socialActions{ display:none !Important; }

Character Species


Character Gender


Writer's Writing Style (OOC)

Paragraph, Multi-Para

Writer's Favored Genres (OOC)

Fantasy, Romance, Violence, Realistic, 18+, Comedy

Comment Wall

You need to be a member of Writer's Realm - Roleplay to add comments!

Join Writer's Realm - Roleplay


  • (I been hit or miss as well. Whenever you get back fully. Let me know

  • (I’ll be waiting for that motivation. I suffer from that as well or lack therof.  But I would like to see my dracolich interact with a necromancer. Since both got the whole death thing going on

  • **Apologies for the delay in posts. Battling severe loss of motivation for shit. Responses will be hit or miss for awhile.** 

  • Finn shrugs his broad shoulders.  He knew exactly what she'd meant when she first asked him 'what are you?'  "According to whom?" he narrows his cold blue eyes into slits of faux disbelief, fighting the urge to grin.  The sarcasm is strong with the Druid.

    His grin falters when he looks from the Necromancer to the spirit of the boy, feeling him fade.  Then he full on frowns as his mind begins to churn, furrowing his reddish blonde brows.  Where does a ghost go when they're not needed, being one of his main contemplations.  He concludes the boy must be an unhoused spirit- a rare, possibly dangerous circumstance. 

    The gentleness to which she spoke to the spirit is not lost on him- making him feel twice the shite for mistrusting her right off the bat.  "The name fits ye." he says, shutting his eyes to focus properly on healing himself.  The dent on his forehead becoming less and less noticeable by the second.  

    Slowly, he slumps back against one of the trees, hanging his pounding head. "If I tell ye what I am, I want yer word that ye'll not repeat it to anyone.  I don't care if it's yer own sister, yer most beloved of loves-- not a soul, livin' or dead." the blue of his eyes seem to glow in the darkness, tingling with old magic.  The air itself tingles with binding magic, evidence that agreeing to anything right here and right now will be upheld through means beyond ones own honor.  She might as well be signing a contract in blood. 

  • She took a second to glance over the stranger. Her attire made her being out here all the more suspicious.  At least Cassie knew that she was out here to hide her stolen goods and it was reason enough. He attire looked like something a cat Burgler would typically wear, so she was dressed for the job. Now this chicka however, what in the world was some gothic/ punk/rocker/scenster/emo/ hot topic wearing- looking girl, doing way out here? Cassie folded her arms across her chest as she looked at that glowing green neck piece of hers. 

    While others may find the woman to be offputting, Cassandra was rather find with her presence. Hell. She was a paranormal human turned into a vampire by a woman who was once the wife to Count Dracula,’Countess Carmilla, the Blood Countess or Elizathabeth Bathory as she went by to some.  The whole drowning in virgin blood thing to keep her youth was a far fetch tale with some truth. When dear Dracula came to offer with the gift of eternal youth,’life, and beauty,’ she jumped at the offer without a second thought. Course that woman turned out to be her great many times great Grandma. Her ancestor.  Bit of a shock that was along with the whole vampires were real thing and other shit that went bump in the night. 


    Cass had a whole frost aura vibe thing going on with her.  She tended to radiate cold based on her genetic mutation that factored into her vampiric transformation due to her environment in which she was turned, a frozen ice cube stasis chamber of sorts.  So she had a bit of a winter chill aura going on which rather made her feel perfectly fine around the whole deathy dark vibe this stranger was giving off.  Death and cold did kinda go together, hand in hand, like that expression. “ The Cold Touch of Death.”  She looked to the cave and back to the woman.  No point in telling a lie now. Not likely this gothic chick was going to call the police on her or steal her shit. 


    “Well yes. I stole some shit and stashed it, so what? I’m a thief. It’s what I do. Girls gotta make a living and eat, somehow.  I’m not exactly the 9-5 type.

    The critter that lives here is of no real threat to me.  I can easily overpower it if need be. A reason I chose this cave. One reason anyhow.  I must say. If I had some kind of gothic death fetish. You would be giving me some serious Lady Wood right about now.  Certainly are a pretty one and those types usually can’t be trusted.

    Explain to me why some gothic looking woman, with a serious unholy vibe going on, is out here in this ass end of the woods? Certainly no ancient burial ground full of corpses around here, to be going to some cemetery dance party  or whatever it is, kids do these days.  “

  • Cassandra stopped in her movements when she heard the sudddn voice come out of nowhere. Her pupils narrowed into cat like slits as she wondered who was out there in the middle of no where forest. Vampire hunter? No. They wouldn’t be stupid to announce themselves. Well at least not without firing upon her first. She sucks her teeth as she tried to listen to the surrounding area for a heartbeat to narrow down the search radius before she would try use echo vision.

    ”Pot call. Kettle black.  Kinda suspicious to be out here in the middle of nowhere, hiding in the bushes and spying on people like some sort of peeping tom. So who is more in the oddity here? Me for doing a little cave checking or you for spying on someone doing some .. Caving.? At least I have a reason for being here. Do you? As for my hiding spot. Well few people venture in random caves these days and having a hiding spot with its own built in booby trap aka a creature living inside there. Well it makes for a nice guard dog type of deal. Don’t have to worry about anyone snooping around and if they do. Whatever lives there will take care of them for me. So rather, it’s a genius place to hide something, for me anyhow.  Beats using a bank which can be robbed or a home that can also be broken into. “


    She spoked from experiece since she robbed banks and other places for a living, so she knew that hiding something at the homefront or a bank was not a smart decision usually. Course a cave was risky too but the chances of some random fool stumbling across said cave, going inside, and finding her loot be sheer dumb luck, well it was a lot smaller then the usual spots a person would go looking for stolen loot. 

  • "I see.  Ye remind me o'--" he trails off when the Necromancer appears before him, his warm blue eyes rolling over her for any sign that she sought to bring him harm.  The Druid then looks to the spirits, studying them each with a far away gaze- using his Second Sight, an ability that allows him to see the network of bindings between every living thing.  He realizes that the boy has not been summoned by the girl-- though a faint tether runs between them nonetheless, not quite as bright as the tether binding him to the Earth, but he foresaw it growing stronger the longer the boy remained.  The other spirit... 

    Finn's expression softens considerably, and he sighs.  It is not the first time he's assumed the worst of a person before even asking them their names.  His hatred for witches and their darker crafts has only grown over the years, reinforced by many a young sorcerer abusing the Earth's energy for their own selfish means.

    He parts his lips, an answer to the girls question on the tip of his tongue, but he realizes she's far from finished going over the possibilities for his apparent death and revival.  Or lack there of.  He looks amused, waiting patiently for her to finish and admiring her the irony of her shirt in the meantime.

    "Heh, the names Finn O'Connell, and I'm.. Irish, if ye can't tell." He's got a faint western Irish accent, although most people just hear the accent and think 'Irish' is all there is to it. "n' the answer to yer first question is pretty simple.  Me body died, but my soul hung on long enough for me to heal the damage and spit out the bullet.  I suppose a simplified version is 'make nice with a death goddess'."

    There's flakes of dried blood on his chest and down the back of his neck, and a mess of mud and brain-matter matted into his wild hair at the back of his head.  Gore aside, though, the Druid isn't bad looking and has clearly lived a healthy life.  To say he's fit is an understatement, but he's no Cú Chulainn or Hercules.  His body is long and corded with thick muscle, built for speed over power.  For if it's power he needs, he can ask of the Earth.

    He rocks onto the balls of his naked feet then takes three strides towards the necromancer, looking down at her from his tall perch of 6'3". "I warn ye now not as a threat but in the hopes that we can avoid an incident in the future- yer friends, the spirits.  Keep them away from me, I've cold iron bound into my aura and.. well, I doubt I have to explain to ye what effect cold iron'd have on beings such as they.." He crosses his arms over his bare chest, "with that outta' the way, what yer name lass?"

  • It was just a typical late night around your local jewelry store.  The store was closing for the night, the last few customers getting ready to depart. One customer in particular had been looking at the display case for recent additions with something akin to a twinkle in her eye.  The store manager had been assisting her with various questions about sizes and cuts of the gemstones within a few rings and necklaces she has her eye on.  The security in the place was standard, one cctv camera, one little night guard walking the perimeter outside on the street, one push button alarm code system for when the door was open or a window broke. 


    All in all, childs play for the likes of her.  She told the manager she would be back as she wanted to wear a certain outfit and wanted to see how one of the necklaces would look on her when she wore it. When it was closing, she would leave first and wander off to wait for the others to depart.  Once the store was locked up and that measly cop was on duty, she approached him with a cat like predatory gait.  Sliding her dark fingernails along the collar of his uniform as she pressed close to him. 


    “Ma’am, I’m on duty. I must ask that you cease and desist and go on home.  I don’t have time for games. “


    ”Ahhhh. But games are all the fun. Are you saying I’m ugly?  Do you not find me pretty? You think I’m ugly don’t you. “


    She began to fake ugly cry which made the guard a bit nervous and apprehensive. 

    “Listen. Ma’am no one is saying you are ugly. I’m sure you are a beautiful woman and any man would be lucky to have you. But I’m on duty and I’m “


    ”What married? I don’t see a ring on this finger. “

    ”Well no. But very soon I will be and I”

    She put her finger on his lips to shush him as she made him gaze into her eyes and locked his entire focus on her. Her eyes flash a bright blue and the guard became frozen in place. A little magic spell she picked up from one of daddy’s little spell books back in Transylvania.  She thought about just ripping his jugular open and draining him dry but a dead security guard was going to draw a little more attention then she wanted. So leaving him here frozen by her encanto spell would simply have to do.  


    Cassie would teleport inside with a bag already in tow. Thanks to her powers, she didn’t have issues with opening vaults or Safes or cutting glass. Not when she already knew the contents and could focus on them. When she had a clear mental image of the items she wanted, she teleported them from their casings and into her bag, bybassing any alarm systems and the ones with a weight sensor, she fixed that by doing a swap teleport. Teleport one object in place of the other, done so fast the sensors never registered any changes. Her powers gave her a tremendous unfair advantage over human criminals and it was even worse with her vampiric enhancements.  Once she had everything she need, she teleported out of the store and Into the woods. 


    She had been thinking about places to stash her loot and couldn’t help with going with the hole in the tree in a forest gag or a cave. Like some thief in medieval times. Since all trees looked the same to her, she decided to try and find a cave and lucked out when she did. A cave deep in the woods that had an odd stench to it, like death.  She did find some bones around and assumed she found some Fox or coyote den. Which she thought was perfect.  Hide her stash in the cave and if anyone came across, hopefully a hungry predator was around to play the guard dog role. Little did she realized when she placed the bag into a large rock crevice she made and covered it in an ultra thick sheen of ice, that she was hiding her stash in some Creatures cave that was not a regular animal.  Trolls, Orgres, goblins, and the like. She didn’t think any of those things existed. Hell. She didn’t think vampires and werewolves were real until she became one. 


    It would have been best to do a little more recon and research but what reason would she have? One cave seemed as good as another and it was far off the beaten path and in an area where hikers and campers didn’t go. So she figured it was safe enough that no human should in theory, have any reason or buisness to be out here.  Once her stash was secure, she would depart to go hunting. Not knowing that things were going to change for her when she got back.

  • He doesn't make it very far from where he'd been left to heal-- or rot-- by whomever shot him in the head.  Five, six feet before his ears prick to the sound of someone picking their way through the grass towards him.  Quickly ducking behind a tree, he considers it might just be a random New Yorker out for a late stroll.  A jogger, maybe.  But over the years he's learned to put no stock in coincidence and play it like everyone is out to get him.  As most people are, or so it seems these days..

    Either by the inherent abilities in his Second Sight or his affiliation with the Chooser of the Slain, he can see the spirits pretty clear, though not quite as clearly as the world around him-- or the necromancer whose coaxed them back onto this plane.

    His mouth twists into a frown as he watches the smaller spirit point to where he'd been lying, as dead as dead can get, and then the woman speaks and a bunch of alarms start wailing in the back of his mind.  So she is one of them.

    Cursing again under his breath, he turns, intending to slip away and hide out in the city.  But Fortune has other plans for him, it seems.  He'd heard the necromancer shout, and then he heard the rapid beat of swift wings on the air and turned his head, tensing.  Expecting none other than the Morrigan herself-- could the Necromancer be in leage with her? It would make sense. 

    But it's not the Morrigan-- it's a fruit bat, clinging to the strong slope of his shoulder.  "Hey little guy- Horace, is it?" Finn slows to a stop, seeing as there's no point trying to get away now.  He's been caught fair play.  The Druid debates binding his consciousness with the bats, giving them the chance to speak privately before his owner arrived, but decides against it, simply turning on his naked heel to face the direction Serena would appear from.

    "I reckon yer lookin' for me, though I'm not a body anymore." he says, by way of greeting.  Tapping the circular, bruise swollen scar in the center of his forehead. 

  • Finn sighs happily as he stretches the length of his body out on the ground, hoisting his arms high above his head.  Gods, that's better.. he rubs at his forehead, covered in nasty purple and yellow bruises, blossoming around a small, circular scar.  He has a hard time remembering exactly what happened-- trying is a painful thing, but he tries anyway. 

    He can recall vague images, flickers of conversation and brief, irritating images.  The barrel of a gun, followed by a muzzle flash and darkness-- that one was obvious, but there was another.  For a brief moment, the darkness faded, and he opened his eyes and looked up, and there was a face he didn't recognize.  A woman-- a girl, even.  Her blonde hair was almost white, and it reminded him somewhat of a glint caught on the sharp edge of a silver blade.  Words formed in his ear as her lips moved, but he couldn't make sense of it.  They were jumbled and backwards, and the harder he tried to make sense of it the more his head felt like it was being split in two.

    Slowly, he opens his blue eyes and stares at the sky.  It's a deep purple, with not a star visible past the glow and haze created by the City.  Lifting his head, he peers down his body to see he's wearing nothing but a pair of jeans, baring dark splotches here and there- a combination of blood and dirt and gods know what else.  He also sees he is lying in the grass, under a tall elm tree.  

    Finn sits up gingerly, wincing and bringing a hand to his head, feeling like his skull is coming apart with every move he makes.  Looking around, he's struck with a sense of familiarity.. he knows this place.  He slips his fingers into the grass beside him and closes his eyes, reaching through his bond with the Earth to commune with the Elemental he's named Ulmi as they don't have names for themselves, but exist on a hierachy not unlike the gods.  You try telling Saxony apart from Carpathia.

    / Query: Druid's location? / it is not with words they speak, but with a series of emotions tied in with images that serves the Elementals as a language all their own. 

    Ulmi responds in kind; / Human city,  New York  /  / Query: Druid requires aid? / 

    / No aid required / / Harmony. / Finn responds, grinning to himself as the Elemental wishes him Harmony in return.  He slowly gets to his feet, leaning on the tree for support.  Rationalizing that whoever shot him had dragged his body into the park, but.. why? Did they simply want to move the body and lessen the chances of their murder being found out? Not that Central Park is a great place to dump a corpse.  He would have been discovered by morning.. Did they know the Earth would heal him?  The possibility is a frightening one.

    He looks down at his hand to see he's still wearing his cold iron ring, the band woven with knotwork and old runic wards against offensive magic, prompting him to reach up and feel at his collar-bone.  Relieved to feel the familiar, rough face of one of thirteen bone charms, strung about his neck on a leather chord.  And then he quickly reaches for his sword, but grasps nothing but empty air.  He tries again, if only because no one is watching.  Still nothing. 

    Finn curses under his breath and pushes away from the tree, swaying slightly on his feet as a wave of dizziness washes over him.  But he pushes through it and keeps walking forward, intent on finding out who in the Hel shot him and getting back his sword.  Matter of fact, his very life depended on it.


This reply was deleted.

Blog Posts