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>>UNDER some CONSTRUCTION <<

 

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The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse

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4889123475?profile=RESIZE_584x

 

 

 

 

Plague and Conquest

Loki Hveðrungr

A Jötunn born in the Sagas' land, Loki stands as one of the oldest creatures from the North still alive.

Honoured as a friend to gods, and feared as the bringer of the End.

Loki was born from Lightning and Foliar and embodies the uncontrollable forces of wildfire. But he is not a god.

A talented sorcerer and shapeshifter, blessed with a silver tongue, this giant can easily outwit most opponents.

"There sail a ship with Muspel's sons, and Loki steers"

 

 

 



 

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3928800860?profile=RESIZE_584x

 

War and Bloodshed

Kháos Mávros

 

 Born of Strife, Eris, he is a demigod of war
cursed with compassion and empathy.

Unwilling to succumb to his inner darkness, he has vowed off using his powers for evil - to the great dismay of his mother.

A talented young artist, he gains a lot of attention from his neighbours, but his crude manners - or lack thereof - keeps people at distance.

Although avoiding conflict, he is skilled with 

weapons and built like a warrior.


He who brings shame upon the gods of War

 

 

 

 

 

 

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4787909676?profile=RESIZE_584x

 

 

Famine and Oppression 

Neferusutekhnefer

 

 Born Anoupekanefer around 4700 BC
He served as High Priest to pharaoh Djoser of the 3rd Dynasty.

Succumbing to megalomania and greed he was entombed alive and laid buried in the desert for millennia.

He's a powerful magician, sharing a soul with Sutekh - the great god of the Desert.

He has overrun a desert city which he renamed
"Niwitshanefer" - The Glorious city of the Sha.


Who may be the Order of the Faceless ones?  

 

 

 

   

 

 

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4870535267?profile=RESIZE_584x

 

Death and Ruin

Virgiliu Dragomir Bathory-Draculea

 

The son of Vlad "Tepes" Draculea and Erzsébet Báthory, Virgiliu has a legacy like few others to live up to. And a thirst for knowledge to match.

Feeling deceived by his father, he holds nothing but loathing for his legendary father, wishing to replace him as the King of Vampires.

Born fully from darkness, a purebred Vampire he has the potential to become greater than any before him, but his greed and hatred keep him from it.

But what does a purebred vampire become when fuelled by such hatred?

The Merthykuwar is a beast who feeds on the flesh of man

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Art made by me~

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Writer's notes:

 

I only roleplay in Direct Messages or Comments

I have no direct preference in length as long as you check grammar and spelling, as English is not my first language it's sometimes difficult for me to read "lazy" English.

Although most my characters are considered "bad" or outright "evil", they do not always come off as such at first glance. But gore, sex, and other adult contents will occur.

You are allowed to unleash whatever hell you wish upon my character, but remember that it is I who determines whether they are hit or not.

I do not write senseless smut, but sexual acts may occur story-wise.

All threads are canon, and important or life-changing events may be mentioned in other threads.

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  • His footsteps pounded like the drums of war as he came when she called. By the ancestors, could he be any louder? Dolai was already loading her plate with goat meat and curry sauce, merely casting Kháos a fleeting, nonchalant look as he manifested in the doorway of the kitchen. She exhaled harshly through her sun damage speckled nose in response to his jabs, releasing the ladle in her hand to let it rattle the metal pot. 

    "No, I want you to shove it up your ass- what else do you do with food?" Dolai retorted sharply, moving to sit at the tiny folding table pressed against the wall. She gave him a look that read 'why the hell would I feed my damn self arsenic,' before stabbing a chunk of goat meat with her fork. She did take note of the suspicion lacing his every glance, at first taking offense but realizing that he was within his right. He had every reason to be suspicious of her, especially with her sudden random act of kindness. Dolai didn't think Jamaican food would convince him to give up a supernatural weapon of mass destruction, although it was quite a delicious cuisine. Rather, she knew the boy would not be leaving her side for some time, making the best of their situation seemed like the better option. She could sense his inner turmoil, it was visible with his every movement. The ancient watched idly with a fat, curry stuffed cheek as he sat across from her, only nodding curtly at his begrudged gratitude. 

    Dolai almost had an otherworldly glow about her. Maybe it was the golden highlight of bronze skin, or her amber eyes contrasting her flesh. Maybe it was the impressive, lean muscle on full display due to her skin clad burgundy tank top. Perhaps it was the neverending dreadlocks cascading down an arched back, or the array of tattoos telling of a story of many lands- Scandinavia, Indigenous America, the British Isles, India, Arabia, Egypt, and that was only her upper half. However, it seemed to be more than that. There was something old beyond words about the African, something tired, something ancient, something that knew what mankind, even the Earth, had forgotten and buried with the sands of time. 

    The silence hung between them, dead and haunting like a vengeful spirit looming below the deck. Tawny eyes remained fixed on her rice as Kháos began to speak. "I do not see the Apple itself as a threat, the threat lies with who will use it and how it shall be used, for it has been shown to me," Dolai replied. There she went again, speaking like they were in 400 bce. "You do not need to understand. If you will not make this easy, then I shall do what is necessary, even if that means facing the Gods myself. I lived through an Ice Age, I'll be damned if some God with a screw loose ends me now. Bumbaclaat!"

    Again, she stabbed at the callaloo, her brows slightly raising as she parted her lips to speak once more. "What I do not understand is, if you want to rid yourself of the Apple, why not give it up? Nobody is stopping you…" Dolai waved an inked hand, dismissing her own thoughts. "But I don't need to understand that. All I need to know is that you are not giving up that bastard fruit." Her eyes finally lifted to meet his gaze, her head slightly canting. "The ancestors are not mine. They are all. Not a soul, divine or mortal, would be here without them. Not even your-" her fork scraped loudly against the plate as she missed a stab at the meat, her grip visibly fastening on the utensil. "-mother." 

    If Kháos hadn't seen someone angrily eat curry, well now he had. Dolai would not allow Eris to have such a hold on her for much longer, leaning back in the uncomfortable metal folding chair and exhaling slowly. "But tell me. Why aren't you with her? I mean, I get it, she's-" No, she must hold her composure. "-quite the individual. But you bare no human blood. Why aren't you among the Gods? And what leads you to an art school so far from home?"

  • HIIIIIIIII

  • p o k e

  • tenor.gif

  • "Absolutely fucking fantastic…" Dolai muttered, irritation clear in her husky voice, her gaze wandering away from Phobos. For the past few centuries, she hadn't fancied company during any of her travels, ancestors forbid some ego inflated kid. Her amber eyes lifted as said ignorant child returned. His retort earned the raise of one eyebrow and the crossing of her arms, but she was not playing these games anymore with him. Besides, he had a bit of a point. 

    As Kháos was already barreling out of the front door, Dolai twisted to look at Phobos, before heading after him. Kas had no plan for getting to Greece, she knew that. "You can't run into this kind of thing blindly, boy, you don't even have a boat to get there," she said once she caught up with the young God. "Since you are too scared to fly, I suppose I shall get us a boat. We will sail ourselves, I prefer to keep mortals out of this as much as possible." At that, it was off to the harbor, unsure of what was to come.

    ~

    She had sailed across the Atlantic many times. From Iceland to Canada at the side of Leif Erikson, from the coast of West Africa to Mexico with the first Olmec, she was no stranger to the sea. There were no waters Dolai had not braved. With the knowledge gained from the Book of Thoth, a gift from an old friend, manipulating the water to speed up their voyage was a simple task. It had only been two days since she had rented the deep sea fishing boat, and they had already crossed the strait of Gibraltar. Another day's journey and they would arrive on the coasts of Greece. 

    For now, the boat was idle as the sun sank behind the waves. The sky was painted orange, pink, red as the sun sank below the sea, dark clouds streaking across the canvas of the heavens. All was quiet, anchored and floating idly in the Mediterranean, the cradle of civilization, save for the song of the gentle current. 

    Dolai was starving. Having sailed all day, she finally found time to cook after not touching a plate for hours. The kitchen on the boat was mediocre, designed for fishermen who spent days at sea. Everything about the boat was cramped but she did what she cood with it. She steamed callaloo leaves with peppers, green onion, tomato salt and an array of seasonings. Besides that, traditional Jamaican spicy goat curry and rice. Goat meat was a favorite of hers, something she had eaten around the world for thousands of years. Each nation had its own spin on it, but Jamaican had always stuck with her. 

    Over the fleeting course of the voyage, the ancient had kept her distance from Kháos, she had hardly said two words to him. His presence irritated her, and with little privacy on the boat, he was never far. But she had a feeling she had no choice but to get used to him, he wasn't going anywhere for quite some time. She might as well make some form of passive aggressive peace with him. After finishing in the kitchen, she took two paper plates out of the small cupboard, and she poked her head out to yell at him. 

    "Kháos!" She shouted, not sure if he was in the cabin or on the deck, but he'd hear her regardless. "Get in here!" After that, she wasn't going to call him again, so she picked up her plate and moved over to the stove to get callaloo. She guessed he would come in with an attitude which he seemed to never lack, but he better shut up and eat.

  • Under the water, Noita could feel everything. Every current that pushed across her skin, every goosebump that rose as a result, every wind fall that plunged across the surface of the water. She even felt death approaching like an old friend, calling to her in a creeping darkness. While she was in the moment, she couldn't even try to fathom what the future held, only living for the next second that trickled by. That's why shock siezed her as the water's currents changed, and a wave knocked her body and senses awake, washing her upon her shore. What had caused that?

    Coughs raked her body, and she shook with disbelief, her gaze casting from the ground below her, to look behind her, in the water. At first, Noita couldn't tell what was in the water, only seeing a flash of orange and scales. Initially, she concluded it was a dragon, and her thoughts scrambled to find a solution on how to handle a dragon while almost half dead. With her fixed gaze on the splashing, Noita finally realized what it was. It was a serpant, a little larger than herself, and still most likely a danger.

    Scrambling uphill to her camp, which was only a few feet from the shore, she darted around to find some sort of weapon. Her bronze sword was heavy but well made, with a sharp, jagged edge that would pierce most animals. The only issue was that her arm was still bleeding out from casting the magic circle earlier, evident by the blood that trailed behind her. Her movements were sluggish due to the self made injury, and to add to her panic, as she approached the shore again, her horse started making more noise than the water below. Clearing her head, she gripped the end of her sword so tight that her knuckles turned as white as snow. Her breathing was ragged, vision was blurry and stance was unbalanced, but she braced herself within seconds, trying to focus on the potential battle that lie ahead, coiled.

    "Show yourself, beast!"

    The challenge was shouted in a scratchy voice, followed by a trickle of coughs and sputtering. What little magic from the circle that was left would shake the ground as if to emphasize her lack of fear. Of course, it was a facade. Anyone would be scared shitless by a giant snake. But fear sputtered to a halting stop as the supposed beast would make himself seen. No, there was magic with this beast, but not any magic. Some sort of ancient magic, magic of people and gods. Her sword lowered it's tip to the ground, her blood running down from her arm onto the blade, dripping to the ground below. Noita's breathing shallowed, her eyes dilated with even more disbelief. 

    "You're not a beast, are you?" The question was muttered under her breath and carried by the wind. "What and who are you?" Perhaps this person was no threat. Reading off the bruised aura, she could see that the person had been injured by the fall, and it helped soothe her worries. She would be matched against him if a fight did arise. 

  • Thank you. I have a who slew of characters to choose from and look through. I am not sure where to begin. Probably with those with a greek affliation? >.< I would love to write. Looking for more characters with a greek foundation that i can write with.

  • /I am up for continuing.. I think Agramon was the character

  • She could read in between talking at the same time. Her mind had a wider space than most people. She used much of it, even at a child she was close to using 30% of it, with being able to do the small things as a child that she did. Things that even her parents had never told her before. It must have been this, everything else she was able to do with the now 70% of her mind that she was using. Would more of that unlock in the future? She had no idea. She could process things faster though. Thus to conclude it, yes, she did breathe in between talking, and yes, she could read his mind while she did talk. It was a survival strategy, be able to read and do at the same time. She would keep all those little helpful tips in mind. Granted she truly did hope that not all of this was going to be so hard on her. It was one lock of hair after all and she felt like she'd been trying to get it for a year now.

    "We certainly--I--" did he just? Gasp! He did! Her turn to get a little flustered. Again, she loved to talk that talk. When it came down to her needed to walk she was more or less crawling away and hoped that nobody saw the fumble that she did with it either. Not when she made that speedy recovery though! Then he went back all talking bout that again though and she found herself needing to reel in the blood trying to make their way to her cheeks and she cleared her throat. "A lesser human might, but one at my caliber of mental power, and the way that my mind works it wouldn't work. I've mentally been trained. Have you ever seen Inception?" Of course, he's never seen it, dummy. "Well, it's like my mind has its SWAT force ready to attack whatever might have tried to attack me inside of there, yeah? Except we're not in a dream world, and SWAT isn't about to jump out and attack you. My mind is just... resilient." She puffed up her chest a tiny bit. "I like to think of myself as a kinda girl that can't just be bewitched by a common fish boy." She thrust a thumb to herself. "If you want this you need to work for it." Buuut... "Course, physical attacks could work. I've never been shot but I imagine that if I were it would break my concentration and then I would have a hard time. Let's not find that out though, okay?" No shooting the poofy haired chick.

    When Neseva spoke of her organization, and the way that they worked to help keep the world ignorant of an inhuman sort of life out there she went quiet to let him think and talk. Her head cocking and eyes on him occasionally as she looked ahead to see exactly where it was that she needed to be going and not trip on a fallen branch or long while she did it. Where he went on with it, and the emotions that he tried to hide under his skin and rock hard heart she could feel it. And a sense of sadness overcame her because of it. It did not show, he just might notice that she had less of a pep to her step, a little less willing to look at him as silver-lined the bottom of her eyes. And for as long as he went on she listened ad never said a word to let him get off his chest what he needed. It was partly his fault and part he humans then. Because where he stopped singing, there were still those curious souls that still came around, that believed in such lore and wild passions for a world, not like their own. Ones who would be weak and wish to be serenaded to while he caressed and dragged them deep underwater for a feast. A rule of thumb for the HSHQ was that you could not save everyone as much as they wish. Sometimes some had to take a fall so that others could survive.

    "In the end, there truly isn't a blame that needs to be passed. We hope to keep everyone safe and healthy. That doesn't always work out though, and it's just something that needs to be accepted."Her one and only conclusion that would act relative to maybe help him to not feel so bad about it. His warnings worked, and their attempts to keep the world hidden worked, at the cost of loneliness for those of them, like he, who was now only a myth.

    "I am not laying naked on a mossy hill during a full moon to attract some cow-chick just so I can get a little bit of her hair. If anything maybe I could snare her or tackle her from the tree's but I ain't getting booty naked for no one but the person in the mirror." For now. She didn't plan on staying... well... that forever. She was still a person and still wanted to live. "Rolling in the grass does sound fun though. With hair like mine though I can't imagine that it would be fun getting all those twigs and things out of it. I can pass on that." Will pass on that. She basically just had a bath because of one, she didn't need another. 

    Baba Yaga existed? Should Nes really be all that surprised, she knew the world that she lived in. "She's popular in lore and stories. A well-known witch. I can't say I know much about her, or the other witch covens out there or how they are. I could study, just not right now." Neseva told him while she looked away to give him that privacy that he clearly didn't seem to care for. She stayed that way until in his mind he gave any hint that he was dressed. Normally those being keys like, 'one leg... now the other...' Things like that. She tapped her foot on the ground and turned once he said that they fit. Good. She didn't imagine her girly figure and his shorter smaller one would be too big or small for him., just right in fact. She grinned merrily and took in the clothed sight of him. "Good! I have a shirt maybe if your body gets a bit cold." She crouched down to her bag again and went searching. Only perking up again and giggled some about the words. "It's not--" She sniggered, trying to get it out. "It's a figure of speech. It just means that you've got a big and thicc booty and you want the world to know it. Take pride. I think your ass fills those pants out better than mine ever will." Totally not jelly.

    "Anyway, this is my little home for now. A place to plot and plan how the hell I'mma get one of those girls. Since prancing around naked isn't an option. And I'm not as risque as you about it either." She plopped down on the leafy floor, now pulling the bag into her lap to look for the said shirt. 

    The little campsite wasn't too crazy. Her tent was hardly a tent. It was more like a bed with a tent on top. How she ever carried that all the way out here was probably the biggest question about it. The bed inside looked to be about the size of a twin, blankets, and pillows thrown inside of it. She had a small chair as well. And while she didn't have a fire going she could make one rather easy out here. Next to the tent was also a travel fishing pole in case she did need to catch any dinner. Basically, she was set for the time she meant to stay out here, for however long that was going to be. 

    "This is me." She said and motioned around to her little campsite. "It isn't the glories of the bottom of the lake, but it's nice. Feel free to take the chair." A hand was waved towards it. And I'll see about making us a little snack if you want. I've got stuff for PB&J's." She pulled out a rolled up tube like shirt and showed it to him. "I've got this?" A vlassic Nirvana band tee. He could always just go chest to the sun like he was. It wasn't like she would hate the view.

  • -3200 BC, somewhere that is now the modern northeastern tip of Sweden- 

    The Summer sunset cast light in a crooked windswept pine forest, and camp for Noita had been set up hill of a river bank the night before. Across from where the sun was setting, a breeze from the east carried the smell of the Baltic Sea salt, making the scene of the river seem just as primordial as the ocean. ‘Summer is the relaxed exhale of a sharp inhale Our Mother Earth took,’ Mian had once told her daughter, and while Noita had been young, she clearly understood that out of all the seasons, the Summer season is a season of life, part of why the ritual took place in the Summer. There was a certain power of renewing life in the air that waited to be harvested, and Noita had every intent of harvesting it.

    Preperation was important. Noita's horse, Ley, had been put on a lead of sorts and kept to the camp. A leather tarp was draped between the trees, dressed with fur, like a canopy that she could lay in at night. Carp was being smoked up above a dim campfire slowly, and would be ready by the time the ritual was over. Wild animals would be scared of the flames, and at most, would attack her horse. Her other materials had been hidden away, just in case of tresspassers, and Noita knew she would be exhausted, so she wanted to prepare for relaxation after the ritual.

    Noita started the ritual by using a double aged flint stone blade to bleed her arm out and cast a circle around her camp to protect it. Then, slowly, she unbuckled the leather buckles of her outer tunic, and stripped to a white wool tunic. The blood turned scarlett against the material, staining it all over, and she slowly added stones with runic engravings to the apron like middle garment she wore, until the stones were too heavy for her. Noita slowly waded into the river, the stones weighing her down, and the white water threatening to sweep her away. The deep cut on her arm and loss of blood was making her dizzy, and the effects of the river swept in and out of her sensories. Noita's heart pounded, pulsing the life blood quicker, making her more dizzy, way more quickly. Her moon kissed yet freckled skin shuddered in fear with goosebumps as it felt the river nip at her ankles and make it's way up. She tried to fight her instinct to tense up, or to hyperventilate, soothing her thoughts with a hum that escaped parted rosebud lips. She calmed her most chaotic thoughts with one thought, "A fear of facing death was nothing to the fear of being claimed by death," by repeating it in her head.

    So, this was it, the start where she would cross the threshold of life and death, then come back. All she had to do was get deep enough into the freezing, angry waters without backing out, and stay under until the sun completely set and the swolen full moon reached it’s peak point in the night sky. And it seemed as if nothing but Fate could stop her.

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 I once wandered the Iron Forest of Jötunheimr aimlessly. Purposelessly. I knew nothing of the worl…
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