Birthday:
July 25
I am open to new roleplay threads
Threads are Open
Character Age
Torque is around 20 years old, Saál is approximately 3500 years old
Character Species
Torque is a Shifter - Lupine(Werewolf)- Garou, Saál is a demon that rose out of being sacrificed in ancient Babylon
Character Gender
Male
Character Relationship Status
Single
Character Personality
Come and find out
Character History/Story
An excerpt of Torque's story...
He awoke to the stench of rotting flesh. The sweet odor held a sickening quality to it and all the same, rose his desire to fill his nostrils with the sweet scent of blood. The beast had slept. The massive form had been curled upon a pile of half-eaten and mostly torn carnage of what used to be a human being. People that had a life. There were several that had no home and the dark tunnels of the subway had been their only refuge for years. It was those unfortunate souls that had wandered into the darkness of the tunnels unknowing of their fate lingering in the shadows. There had been maintenance workers that had followed the trace of malfunctions along the tracks. Torn wires and cables seemed to have been sabotaged from the looks of it, for none of the damage looked to be coincidental. Neither of those that wandered into the shadows, returned. All of them fell victim to the massive beast that lived in the darkness.
The Garou stretched slowly, joints popping and cracking as it came to all fours at first. The ground beneath its massive clawed paws was slippery with the cold blood and remnants of what looked to be a busted open carcass. The stark white of a broken open ribcage reminded of gnarled hands reaching upward to beg for mercy.
For those that lay broken beneath this hideous abomination, mercy had been when the light had ceased to exist within their panic and fear-filled eyes. Here in the darkness, no one had heard their screams as they were torn limb from limb.
The creature stretched again, rising to its full height of nearly eight feet. Its parted paw salivated while coals of eyes lay expressionless within the massive skull.
Somewhere in the distance, the sound of men had arisen again. Their footsteps echoed in the dark and the metallic stench of weapons that preceded their imminent arrival, wafted his way.
Character Inventory
And then there is Saál -
~ Babylon - at a time when faith was trying to topple the world from its existence of things unexplained. The priests had convened behind heavy doors. He was 19 then, moving up and down in nervous pacing, a sick feeling of foreboding like a rock in his gut, again and again, did the green gaze cut towards the door and the hushed words behind it. He couldn't make sense of it, didn't hear enough but when they rose their voices, his father’s voice too, angrily, then silence ensued.
He turned in time to see the doors fly open and one look at his father’s face told all. Stern. Dark and brooding as it was. His father held a high position within the royal house, it was even murmured that there was a direct connection to the royal bloodline. King of Assyria, brothers...who knew. It was a mute subject in his house as it was. He didn't know the connections nor did he care, for his plans for his young life had greatly varied from his father’s plans for him and today would reveal his future.
The robed priests barely looked at him, lowering their eyes as they passed one after the other until all were gone and the heavy door to the house closed with a thud.
He turned to look at his father then and canted a head in silent question, he knew better than to press for an explanation yet and so he waited patiently.
It was not until that evening that they had all met for dinner. Sisters, brothers. a large family that ranged in age from six to sixty. His father had risen as they had all been seated at the long table, and servants were ordered to leave the room after placing the food that now sat steaming. Then he spoke - I know you all have wondered how we are connected to the Royal House. Well, we are, and deeply so. Deeply enough to be considered royal blood and - his hand lifted to still the arising murmur that had gone through the room in a hush
-it isn’t important nor is it safe to say more but that our connection is tight enough, close enough.to make all of you eligible. Again, the man’s voice stilled, dark eyes moving over his offspring, boys and girls alike, until it came to rest upon the one that had been chosen. Sa’al could feel his father’s eyes before he looked up to meet them. He swallowed silently.
The priests have prayed and inquired of the God Marduk and His wishes and I am honored that He chose our house. He wishes the Golden One to be my own flesh and blood, .Sa’al.
Silence befell the room suddenly and he could feel a chill running across tanned skin. Swallowing again, a lick to lips was given while he stared at his father. Too he could feel the stares of his brothers and sisters upon him like needles. He knew what his father’s words entailed though when the last offering had happened ten years ago he had been too young to comprehend or question any of it.
The days and nights to follow had passed in a dream. Preparations had been made for the ceremony was to commence within the two days following. He had been kept out of sight of the Priests and their workings to not overly upset him, though already had his wine been laced to calm him and he had grown almost indifferent to life as he knew it. Then the time had come and he had been escorted into the bath chambers. A long, heated bath had been given, cleaning the body from all earthly grime, blond hair had been brushed until it had dried and golden skin had been oiled. A simple white robe of coarse cloth had been placed upon him as he was then led into the sacrificial chamber. The smell was pungent within the room and many figures were present. The green gaze shone through the haze of drugs and slowly moved over faces he knew, yet no longer recognized. The pain seen upon his father’s face remained untouching to the numb soul that bared his existence now.
He was led by one arm into the center of the heated room, his gaze then falling upon the cauldron that sat before him. Within golden liquid bubbled heavily beneath the intense fire of the pit it was placed above. Thick and shining, rolling in a slow boil and he recognized it as a metal liquefied. Then several priests had begun their task and drew heavy brushes along his form, painting on the golden armor that the public would see in the final parade.
He didn't know how long he had been standing there. The room had emptied, and few had remained to do the task. The initial burning sensation had given way to heaviness and he was held now on both sides so that he wouldn't fall.
He had felt the cream being applied across his eyelids and now his eyes were stinging, burning from the fumes of liquid metal being painted. He couldn't protest for his face felt stiff. Then the priest to either side began to move him, walk him out of the room, while a small cart with a smaller and heated version of the cauldron followed.
He was escorted from the house and into the streets, the green gaze barely recognizing the crowd of people that lined the streets cheering. They threw flowers and chanted Marduk's name.
The celebration of sacrifice took two days. Forty- eight hours of numbing agony. He wasn't scared now, but tired. The priests had continued to paint him over and over again, placing layers of shiny liquid upon him to keep him moving. Then the time had come. He was barely able now to move, place one foot in front of another, hardly able to swallow the wine they had kept giving him. He didn't feel it as it ran from painted lips and down the golden robe.
Then a familiar face was before him - his father spoke in low tones, soothing him even more. Green eyes were blank in their stare on his father’s face. He could not speak – he could no longer protest the revelation the man was laying upon him now. It had not to have been him to be sacrificed at all - Marduk wanted a sacrifice. Yes, but Marduk was greedy enough to take any. Yet the priests had implied that a sacrifice of the royal
bloodline would bestow great fortune and power into the hands of the ruler. His father being the King's brother and next in line to hold control over the large empire had become greedy in his wants, willing to give what was needed to get what he wanted. Yet he could not live with the guilt and now tears ran from the man’s eyes as he watched his son dying slowly.
His vision was blurred again, yet tears would no longer fall. How he hated the man for a fleeting moment, indifference so close, the notion passed swiftly.
His father mumbled then of ending the misery and torture he had watched for two days now and took him by the arm, though he didn't feel it. He was turned, the stiff gaze falling upon the large cauldron within the chamber, boiling still within it was gold.
His mind suddenly roused from its induced stupor as he realized what was about to happen - he screamed inwardly, though no mortal sound was made. As the body hit the boiling gold and flesh melted from the bones, a scream shook the realm of spirits -
Millennia had passed. The soul had become a demon, roaming a realm that knew no form or shape. He knew only one power that ruled over him – the darker side of his one God, Marduk.
Many attempts had been made to evoke him, many times he had emerged, killed in a raging frenzy, and left without a trace. Then he had lingered and waited in silence as the world changed.
He - who should call him forth from the pile of golden bones.
He - who would draw him from his eternal slumber to see manifestation once more,
Him – He would serve in every way.
Writer's Writing Style (OOC)
Paragraph, Multi-Para
Writer's Favored Genres (OOC)
Fantasy, Romance, Violence, Rated R, 18+
About the Writer (OOC)
Spent many years there in various RP genres. Looking for 18+ writers and genres. Will NOT write with minors !!!!
Am looking forward to finding one or more players that enjoy creating Storylines and writing as much as I do.
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~ Babylon - at a time when faith was trying to topple the world from its existence of things unexplained. The priests had convened behind heavy doors. He was 19 then, moving up and down in nervous pacing, a sick feeling of foreboding like a rock in his gut, again and again, did the green gaze cut towards the door and the hushed words behind it. He couldn't make sense of it, didn't hear enough but when they rose their voices, his father’s voice too, angrily, then silence ensued.
He turned in time to see the doors fly open and one look at his father’s face told all. Stern. Dark and brooding as it was. His father held a high position within the royal house, it was even murmured that there was a direct connection to the royal bloodline. King of Sumeria, brothers...who knew. It was a mute subject in his house as it was. He didn't know the connections nor did he care, for his plans for his young life had greatly varied from his father’s plans for him and today would reveal his future.
The robed priests barely looked at him, lowering their eyes as they passed one after the other until all were gone and the heavy door to the house closed with a thud.
He turned to look at his father then and canted a head in silent question, he knew better than to press for an explanation yet and so he waited patiently.
It was not until that evening that they had all met for dinner. Sisters, brothers. a large family that ranged in age from six to sixty. His father had risen as they had all been seated at the long table, and servants were ordered to leave the room after placing the food that now sat steaming. Then he spoke - I know you all have wondered how we are connected to the Royal House. Well, we are, and deeply so. Deeply enough to be considered royal blood and - his hand lifted to still the arising murmur that had gone through the room in a hush
-it isn’t important nor is it safe to say more but that our connection is tight enough, close enough.to make all of you eligible. Again, the man’s voice stilled, dark eyes moving over his offspring, boys and girls alike, until it came to rest upon the one that had been chosen. Sa’al could feel his father’s eyes before he looked up to meet them. He swallowed silently.
The priests have prayed and inquired of the God Marduk and His wishes and I am honored that He chose our house. He wishes the Golden One to be of my own flesh and blood, .Sa’al.
Silence befell the room suddenly and he could feel a chill running across tanned skin. Swallowing again, a lick to lips was given while he stared at his father. Too he could feel the stares of his brothers and sisters upon him like needles. He knew what his father’s words entailed though when the last offering had happened ten years ago he had been too young to comprehend or question any of it.
The days and nights to follow had passed in a dream. Preparations had been made for the ceremony to commence within the two days following. He had been kept out of sight of the Priests and their workings to not overly upset him, though already had his wine been laced to calm him and he had grown almost indifferent to life as he knew it. Then the time had come and he had been escorted into the bath chambers. A long, heated bath had been given, cleaning the body from all earthly grime, blond hair had been brushed until it had dried and golden skin had been oiled. A simple white robe of coarse cloth had been placed upon him as he was then led into the sacrificial chamber. The smell was pungent within the room and many figures were present. The green gaze shone through the haze of drugs and slowly moved over faces he knew, yet no longer recognized. The pain seen upon his father’s face remained untouching to the numb soul that bared his existence now.
He was led by one arm into the center of the heated room, his gaze then falling upon the cauldron that sat before him. Within golden liquid bubbled heavily beneath the intense fire of the pit it was placed above. Thick and shining, rolling in a slow boil and he recognized it as a metal liquefied. Then several priests had begun their task and drew heavy brushes along his form, painting on the golden armor that the public would see in the final parade.
He didn't know how long he had been standing there. The room had emptied, and few had remained to do the task. The initial burning sensation had given way to heaviness and he was held now on both sides so that he wouldn't fall.
He had felt the cream being applied across his eyelids and now his eyes were stinging, burning from the fumes of liquid metal being painted. He couldn't protest for his face felt stiff. Then the priest to either side began to move him, walk him out of the room, while a small cart with a smaller and heated version of the cauldron followed.
He was escorted from the house and into the streets, the green gaze barely recognizing the crowd of people that lined the streets cheering. They threw flowers and chanted Marduk's name.
The celebration of sacrifice took two days. Forty- eight hours of numbing agony. He wasn't scared now, but tired. The priests had continued to paint him over and over again, placing layers of shiny liquid upon him to keep him moving. Then the time had come. He was barely able now to move, place one foot in front of another, hardly able to swallow the wine they had kept giving him. He didn't feel it as it ran from painted lips and down the golden robe.
Then a familiar face was before him - his father spoke in low tones, soothing him even more. Green eyes were blank in their stare on his father’s face. He could not speak – he could no longer protest the revelation the man was laying upon him now. It had not to have been him to be sacrificed at all - Marduk wanted a sacrifice. Yes, but Marduk was greedy enough to take any. Yet the priests had implied that a sacrifice of the royal
bloodline would bestow great fortune and power into the hands of the ruler. His father being the King's brother and next in line to hold control over the large empire had become greedy in his wants, willing to give what was needed to get what he wanted. Yet he could not live with the guilt and now tears ran from the man’s eyes as he watched his son dying slowly.
His vision was blurred again, yet tears would no longer fall. How he hated the man for a fleeting moment, indifference so close, the notion passed swiftly.
His father mumbled then of ending the misery and torture he had watched for two days now and took him by the arm, though he didn't feel it. He was turned, the stiff gaze falling upon the large cauldron within the chamber, boiling still within it was gold.
His mind suddenly roused from its induced stupor as he realized what was about to happen - he screamed inwardly, though no mortal sound was made. As the body hit the boiling gold and flesh melted from the bones, a scream shook the realm of spirits -
Millennia had passed. The soul had become demon, roaming a realm that knew no form or shape. He knew only one power that ruled over him – the darker side of his one God, Marduk.
Many attempts had been made to evoke him, many times he had emerged, killed in a raging frenzy, and left without a trace. Then he had lingered and waited in silence as the world changed.
Who should call him forth from the pile of golden bones kept in an ancient Sumerian box
Who would draw him from his eternal slumber to see manifestation once more,
Whom he would serve in every way.
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