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Avalon
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PostSubject: Re: The old list.   The old list. Icon_minitimeMon Dec 14, 2009 4:42 pm

Name: Avan

God/human: God

Title: God of Honor

Gender: Male

Age: Older than the Stone Age, that's for sure.

Abilities: Like most deities, he has control over the elements, but most especially over light. Uniquely, Avan's very presence instills in mortals a need to be honest and truthful. Not exactly an ability to use in battle, but he does come equipped with the power to bless the souls of those he chooses, granting them passage into the higher realms when their life ends.

Weapon: Tsuriga, a longsword of pure mana

Accessories: A locket around his neck. What is inside, only he knows.

Appearance: Tall, about 6'9". He appears to be of an athletic build. Pale skin, golden hair, and eyes as blue and deep as the sea. His most prominent feature besides his hair and eyes, is a cross-shaped cut across his right cheek. His spiritual, and physical form, both appear to be that of a 21 year old man with long hair tied in a ponytail. Under the black cloak he wears (supposedly because he is always in mourning of lives that are lost too early), there lays a chiseled body formed by aeons of walking the earth. He wears what appears to be a black hakama and white kimono, a walking mix of Good and Evil.

Personality: Avan is kind, gentle, and firm in his faith in the Good of mankind. He has a gaze that seems to pierce one's very soul. Avan bares no ill will to anyone, but he does have a strong dislike for murder and sin.

History: Avan was a pure god, born long ago of a pair of deities who died shortly afterward. He was born fully grown, but did not fully obtain his powers until he was about 23,000 years old. His history before and after this event has been kept hidden, even from his fellow immortals, for reasons only he knows. It may very well be revealed to the right person, or even people...
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csleuth
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csleuth


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PostSubject: Re: The old list.   The old list. Icon_minitimeMon Dec 14, 2009 11:25 pm

Name: Shinuptemn (aka Shinu)

God/human: God

Title: God of Punishment

Gender: Male

Age: As old as the first evil thought.

Abilities: Shinu has many abilities at his disposal to punish the wrong-doers of the world. He often will torture someone who has committed an evil in a fitting way to the act that was committed, but he tends to be very creative and doesn't like to repeat himself. He punishes people in many ways sometimes using the many weapons at his disposal. He also has the ability to turn into a spider with a white cross on its back to keep an eye on specific people without being noticed. Thus, any spider with a cross on its back is seen as an omen. His other ability, or job as he likes to call it, is to punish the souls the God of Death has deemed unholy in his torture chamber for all eternity.

Weapons: Shinu has numerous weapons at his disposal including swords, daggers, and just about any other bladed weapon. Shinu's two favorite weapons are Anklan the Scythe of Reckoning, which he uses to banish souls to the underworld to live in eternal torture, and Böse the claw of apprehension. Böse is a handle with a long chain that splits into three chains toward the end. At the end of each of these smaller chains is a metal disc with three hooks jutting from them that dig into the victims flesh. Shinu uses this weapon to drag unholy souls to his chamber of A Thousand Tortures.

Accessories: Besides his weapons, Shinu doesn't have many accessories other than the Vial of Purity he carries which he saves for a soul he deems desrving of it. This vial will completely cleanse their soul of all wrongs they've committed and keep them from committing any more.

Appearance: Shinu is ageless,presenting himself in all number of ages, because he is not actually living, but is a spirit or soul that lives in between life and the afterlife. He is about 7 feet tall and is very skeletal and gaunt looking. He is usually seen without hair but some have reported him having long sparse hair that appears tangled and stringy. He also has two different colored eyes, one being completely white and the other being completely black. The white stands for the good in the world while the black is all of the corruption and evil; together they keep him balanced and just. He is often seen completely naked except for a tattered loincloth, but on occasion he wears a hood with a cross pattern that lays down the front of his chest.

Personality: Shinu is typically very quiet and reserved only speaking when he needs to. Even though he is the God of Punishment, he has a soft spot for all of the people that spread their good deeds throughout the lands. Shinu is known for trying to steer people on the right path through his punishments or even visiting his victims to warn them of what will come if they continue their bad ways. For a God he seems to be very interested in human affairs and humanity's survival. He tends to get tired of answering to the God of Death and all of his rules. He would rather not have restrictions so he could have more freedom steering humanity on the right track. Due to all of this he is seen as a bit of an outcast among the gods.

History: Shinu was born from the heart of the first person to committ sin, in a Hinnii tribe near a river. The natives there often fished for their food. Ogode was the most successful fisherman in the village and one of the kindest tribesman living their. Liev was new to this sport and very bad at catching fish. At the end of a long day of fishing Ogode had caught a whole netfull of fish while Liev looked sadly at his empty net. Ogode felt sorry for the beginner and gave Liev a handful of fish to take back to his family so that they would be able to eat that night. Liev was thankful, but he saw the way the other villagers respected and admired Ogode. That night Liev proceeded to steal all of the fish from Ogode's net whcih was hanging right outside of his hut. Liev began cutting the net and dumping the fish into his when suddenly he felt a pain in his chest. It started as a tingle and grew into a sharp jabbing pain in his heart. Liev let out a scream of agony as he fell to the ground writhing in pain. Ogode heard the scream and came running out to find Liev on the ground next to his broken net spilling fish into the dirt. As Ogode watched in terror, Liev's chest began to expand larger and larger until the flesh tore under the pressure and out fell a naked, gaunt looking man; Liev died immediately. Ogode inspected the man who was covered in blood and other human matter. The naked man stood up, and Ogode saw the haunting white and black eyes for the first time. Shinu then turned and ran into the forest never to be seen by Ogode again. Of all the people in his village Ogode was the only one who never committed a crime for the rest of his life. When Ogode died and his body was burned by the tribesman in a funeral ceremony, Shinu appeared and took Ogode's pure ashes and liquified them creating the Vial of Purity. Shinu gave Ogode's ashes the power to instill purity in any person's soul, but he saves it for the most deserving one.


Last edited by csleuth on Thu Dec 17, 2009 8:39 pm; edited 2 times in total
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Shiva
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PostSubject: Re: The old list.   The old list. Icon_minitimeWed Dec 16, 2009 2:54 pm

I shall take up the role of human. If I am the only human, then I'm probably going to be smited by the gods every other minute because my characters are ALL atheists :3

Name: Fong, Liu Wen
Age: 25
Gender: Male
God/Human: Human
Title: None
, but prefers to be called Fong in any circumstance, even formal ones.

Abilities: Well within the human Range, Fong is an incredibly flexible young man. He is agile, fast, and knows his body mechanics well enough to develop a sure sense in his movements. His strength is not strong, as he prefers parrying and dodging to get under the guard of an opponent. Both his stamina and endurance are excellent, which means he is able to exert a constant amount of energy for a short time, and keep exerting the energy over a long period of time. However, his body is light, and therefore much more vulnerable to strong strikes than a heavily massed man.

Fong enjoys a type of meditation where he lets his mind reach outside the boundaries of the human senses. He requires total peace within himself, which means he cannot do it when distressed or distracted. It lets him touch what he calls the second plane, where he can communicate with deities or higher beings if they decide to talk to him. Mostly it's to preserve energy in a idle state, and clear the mind under circumstances like capture or torture.

Weapons: Fong comes to battle loaded with weapons. His first weapon is the simple and pale waxwood staff. It is seven feet of treated wood, usually used as a walking stick for rough terrain- but can act as a deadly blunt weapon in battle. It can block to a certain point, but it is mostly used for unarmed people. He uses the waxwood staff to keep people at bay, and when he gets the opportunity, he can jab or swing in any direction to knock his enemy flat on his ass. The staff is about a inch and a half in diameter, and has a strip of black cloth around the middle, where he grips it the most.

His second (and primary) weapon is the infamous Twin Hooks, or Tiger Hooks. Made of thick and durable steel, the Hooks Swords(Tiger Hooks) are a very exotic eastern weapon due to it's unique design and use. To begin with, take a normal katana. Look at the tip. Unlike a Katana, the top part of the hook sword is a 'U'-like curve that is used for tripping or locking a weapon or person. Also, unlike a katana, there is no crosspiece, but a curved crescent crossguard that is used for blocking and can also be sharpened for slashing as well. The end of the hilt of a Hook sword is sharpened into spear heads or daggers, giving it another angle to stab the enemy. Does it end here? Not so. The Hooks can be loosely linked and swung to extend the range of the swords to about six feet, where the sharpened ends can cut straight through flesh. Both sides of the blade are sharpened, and the hilt is wrapped in a layer of cloth and black leather for a safe place to hold onto the swords.

Finally, he carries into battle a pair of Emei piercers. At about one foot long, the piercers are made of steel at about an inch thick, with spear tips at the end. The piercers have a pivot in the middle, and affixed to that is a ring. This gives the emei an ability to spin, giving it extra advantages in battle. Since the piercer is both sided, Fong can use it to swing in a backhanded stab or a forward thrust. The style of the emei relies on the user's ability to percieve and deflect blows to give an opening. By spinning the blade, the emei draws the opponents attention to one while giving the other an opportunity to gut the enemy. If blood gets on the spear tip, spinning it skillfully will allow Fong to get blood into the face of the opponent, also eliciting an chance to strike. The ring goes on the middle finger, and are very easily concealed.

A special tool Fong would use in battle, (Though not truly a weapon) would be used as a distraction. They were hollowed out eggs filled with various things, which will be covered later. They were painted black, and were dubbed "Black Eggs". The contents ranged from crushed glass to concentrated chili pepper juice, and when crushed, can be thrown at the enemy's face to blind and cause pain in various forms. Though temporary, the eggs allow Fong more than enough time to escape or incapacitate the opponent.

Accessories: Fong's only prized possession is a small book by an obscure author, titled "Mists of Illera". It is one of the few copies left, and Fong is almost always reading it when he has spare time. His second most important item is his gourd which carries water, and his third is the whetstone he uses to keep his weapons handy and sharpened.

Appearance: A small, lean stature, Fong hangs at about 5'9 at most. His body is worn and slightly tanned from his travels, but still remains as smooth as a traveling man's skin can get. His head is shaped in sharp angles, almost hawk-like in appearance. Crowning his head is a mane of medium-length jet black hair. Because his hair is neither styled nor gelled, the hair is dull and lank, hanging in minute locks around his head and face. They just barely clear his eyes, which are narrow and the iris's show off a dark brown. He has a thin mouth, which is set in a almost trademark half-frown across his face. His fingers are spidery, about one finger segment longer than most other humans. As to why, it was because he played an instrument when he was younger. He has numerous thin scars because of the accidents he suffered when practicing with his twin hooks around his arms, waist, and back. They are hardly visible, but some are more severe than others. Even those can only be seen when flashed against a hard light.

Clothing: On his bare chest, Fong wears a simple white tunic that is slightly worn. Over that, Fong favors the eastern-styled Changshan, a long, robe-like torso shirt that cuts off at the waist and sides while the front and back flaps continue down to his ankles. The sleeves are long, and are rolled back multiple times to show his hands. The collar is slightly thick and surrounding most of his neck apart from the front, and is laced by strips of intricate rope to secure the front. The cuffs and collar of his Changshan are a creamy white while the base color is a light red. The ropes securing the front dip are a dull black. A dark leather belt is snapped around his waist, attached to the belt are some small pouches used for holding various things. His pants are a slightly mottled white with signs of yellow around the knees that reveal that it has been used a lot. It is baggy around the majority of his legs, but tighten up at his ankle to prevent any sort of accident by tripping over his pants. He wears comfortable woolen traveling socks on his feet and thin, black training shoes with a white trimming. The soles are thick, and have no real laces to secure the feet.

On his back is a thick black rucksack that has been with him ever since he started traveling. Though not in the best condition, it can hold a fair amount of items. It presses against his back, with two straps that secure the bag to Fong. The right strap is more worn, as Fong tends to wear the bag with the weight on one shoulder. The bag holds spare clothes, his books, some flints, paper, some of his money, stored food, and a good length of rope.

The pouches on his belt hold some medicinal herbs, his inkstone and whetstone, and the rest of his money. In the beginning, Fong has trained in the use of black eggs, but does not acquire them himself until later because of the growing need to use more deceptive methods to escape a conflict. A pouch will soon hold his black eggs.

Personality: Fong is generally a distant man, often pulling many "thousand-mile" stares when he gets deep into thought. He likes to ponder abstract problems, and usually enjoys staying quiet when not putting on a facade. Sometimes, he misses a conversation altogether because he inadvertently started thinking about something else. When in a civilized place, or when speaking, he usually pulls on a sociable mask that hides his pondering and quiet outlook on life. When literally changing personalities, Fong's eyes tend to brighten a lot more, he speaks more often, and he uses hand gestures to get his meaning through. All in all, his sociable nature is likeable and he often gains new temporary friends because he was always traveling. However, there are subtle clues that reveal the inner distant, and sometimes dark 'true' personality of Fong. His voice begins to grow hoarse when he speaks for a long period of time, (which in his terms, are much shorter than the average avid speaker) and his eyes seem a little too cheerful despite many weeks of practice with the civil population. He also tends to trail off, something an avid speaker never does, and speak cryptically and sarcastically when irritated.

Fong's mental discipline doesn't allow him to reveal when he is upset, but when he does get upset, it's because somebody had done a horrible wrong, something that can afflict even the most hardened criminal. He grows a lot more quiet, even in the presense of other people, and his eyes harden as though they were set marbles- cold and glassy. He rarely gets mad, or even upset due to his serene and distant inner-nature.


History: It was a mountainous village to the east, a place of culture and peace- undisturbed by the influence of any sort of power. It was a self-sufficient town that got it's own water, it's own crops, and fought the roving bandits on it's own. That was the place where Fong was born. A passing warrior from the lands beyond the seas arrived in the village because of his passion for travels, and he fell in love with a farmer's daughter. They married, and the adventurous warrior settled down in the village. They named their son Liu-Wen Fong, and raised him with a zeal unheard of in the societies to the west.

As Fong grew, he began to help more and more with chores just like any other boy. However, the village had no sense of education, just fighting and work. He was illiterate. His father was literate, but without the need to read or write, he decided he didn't need to say anything about it. Fong soon began to be involved with the bandits striking the more remote towns at a higher rate. Fong had to defend the city along with other men when he came to be of age. Therefore, at the age of six, he began to train in his father's martial arts- Hung Gar. The power of training strengthened Fong's mental discipline, as well as his body's ability to fight. By the age of 11, Fong was already sparring with the best of the men. Despite his size, he knew how to uproot the men, and bring them down hard. His father soon after gave him the infamous twin-hooks he brought from overseas, primed to perfection and ready for Fong. Fong was then thrown into training with his hook swords, and by the time he was 15, he was a warrior capable of cutting down his enemies. However, he didn't have the mindset to actually follow through. His father knew that, and though he began basic survival training with Fong in the situation the bandits should overwhelm the village, he didn't press Fong to sharpen his will to kill.

Fong recieved the book, Mists of Illera from his mother despite none of the villagers including him being able to read it. Fong's father played along, because most of the villagers treated it with respect despite being unable to read. The reason? Fong's mother recieved it from an old shaman that healed the town elder while he lay on his sick bed. It was a great gift, and from that moment on Fong had been pouring over the unreadable words it gave him. When he was 18, Fong was in full bloom. He had learned the art of war, how to farm, and how to survive. Even monetary experience came to him via his father. Also like his father, he had a thirst to travel. So, on an early morning during the winter melt, he left his village once and for all. He traveled to a nearby town, and began the painstaking process of recovering the years of learning that have already been presented to town boys. It was hard finding a willing teacher, but he had soon found an excellent one that was willing to teach him. Within five years, he was a learned man- and though he trained his body as well throughout those five years, he had easily progressed from basic reading to philosophical thought. He put in another half-year, and decided to move on- finally filling that one gap. Religion was never and issue.

He never had believed in the gods, simply because he was born in a village so self-reliant, the gods never existed. City life hardly touched him, and he only knew vaguely who the gods were. He learned about the gods from his tutors, but he refused to believe some all-powerful being could come down and smite him at that very moment for committing a simple sin. Because gods were made to assist indirectly, Fong was very certain he wouldn't have to hear about these gods for a long time. Even if they did exist, Fong would refuse to commit to worship. It just wasn't his way of thinking, after his entire life was built upon the non-existence of gods. Ever since he left his tutor, he had been travelling the land.

Allegiance: Fong holds his allegiance (secretly) to the High King. Torren represented what Fong thought to be a good leader, under a relative peace. For it to be instantly corrupted by a malevolently ambitious man was of the highest crime according to his morals. However, despite however strong Fong is alone, he could not even hope to stand up against the usurper, with thousands of men at his disposal. Especially when no god favors him, therefore has no blessing against any supernatural events that might happen against him. He looks for an opportunity constantly during his travels, but often finds none.

§


Last edited by Shiva on Thu Dec 17, 2009 8:11 pm; edited 4 times in total
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Savfantasy
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Savfantasy


Posts : 2184
Join date : 2009-09-14
Age : 33
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PostSubject: Re: The old list.   The old list. Icon_minitimeWed Dec 16, 2009 7:47 pm

Name: Naline

God/human: God

Title: Goddess of Passion/Love/Jealousy

Gender: Female

Age: As old as love
Abilities: Helps fuel passions of any kind. This can vary from making people love, or hate each other. She cannot create feelings though, simply stroke those that already exist.

Weapons: She mainly stays behind the scenes, stroking the emotions of others to fight for her. Compulsion is her game, and she loves doing it. Her worshipers are often utterly loyal, especially if she takes a personal interest in them. She doesn’t go completely unarmed though. She carries a golden whip, although it’s mainly used as decoration rather than an actual weapon. She is adept with it though, and can therefore use it if the need ever arises.

Accessories: Many golden bracelets and a golden choker. Her earrings and hair accessories change depending on her clothing. She loves to wear precious stones in her hair, often braided in or set in a net.

Appearance: Varies depending on her mood. Usually has long, flowing black hair and deep green eyes. Her clothing style is usually very provocative, and cut to show off her generous curves. Her favorite colors to wear are scarlet and gold, and most of her clothes are filmy, if not quite see-through. She is fairly tall when in her human form; about 5’9”. Her skin is ivory, and nearly glows against her dark hair.

Personality: She’s always most interested in what will bring her the most gain. She always acts as if she loves everyone, unless she becomes insulted. In that case, she is very wrathful and almost never forgives. She will go to unbelievable extremes to bring what she sees as ‘justice’. She has made a life of making - and breaking - relationships. She usually finds joy in bringing others happiness, but if she is scorned by a lover, she often takes it out on the humans. She loves to have flowers and chocolates left on her alter, although offerings have been becoming more and more scarce.

History: As the first male met the first female, Naline opened her eyes for the first time. She has been weaving her webs since then, leaving both love and loathing in her wake. After her first few centuries, she began to feel a growing jealousy for the lovers that she united. As an experiment, she went down to Earth for the first time. It wasn’t long before she found her first choice, a tall and burly hunter named Huric Boww who instantly fell in love with her. She stayed with him for years, and finally told him the truth about her. He was unsure at first, worrying that his feelings for her were just caused by her influence. It took a while, but she finally convinced him of the truth; that she had not worked her magics on him. She lived with him for many years, just letting the world’s lovers take care of themselves for a while. But it was inevitable that she would have to face his mortality at some point.

She refused to accept it, and ran to the God’s council and petitioned them to let him become a demi-god. They refused. No matter how she begged, they would not allow it. Frustrated and angry, she fled back to Earth to spend his last few days with Huric. She went into a century of seclusion after his death. Since then, she has come back with a vengeance. She slowly noticed that she was gaining less and less pleasure from bringing people together, since every man she saw reminded her of her lost love. Her bitter anger was turned towards her charges, and she found that she was smiling each time she stroked a lover’s jealousy or mistrust. The other Gods whispered about her instability, but there was nothing they could do to derail her. It was much later when one man, a leader of his time, came to her alter on bended knee. His face was so sweet, and his heart so ambitious, that she found herself favoring him despite herself.

So when this man asked for her assistance with dethroning the God of Time, her heart was torn. She wanted to do as he asked; he was her most loyal worshiper. But. . . To turn on another God. . . But this was not just any God. This was Zealox, the God of Time. Her loyalty for him had been compromised the day that he refused to stop time for her lover. The thought of his face that day, so stoic in the face of her panic, still caused her to feel sick. And so she helped lead the march against her fellow God, and with her help, he fell. But when they were finished, when her worshiper had control of Time, he began to loose interest in his once-devote-worship of her. Enraged, she planned to stroke his feelings for her to make him as loyal as he once had been. Her plans became insignificant however, when the Staff of Time broke. The land fell into chaos, and she was forced to work on different things.

Now that the God of Time is free once more, she is unsure what to do. Should she continue her support of her beautiful human, who has unraveled the threads of time itself, or should she help bring back balance to the earth? She has yet to decide.

OMG Memory, I love your suggestion. I hadn't even thought of it that way. -faints-


Last edited by Savfantasy on Thu Dec 17, 2009 6:28 pm; edited 1 time in total
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SweetDreamer215
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Posts : 399
Join date : 2009-09-22
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PostSubject: Re: The old list.   The old list. Icon_minitimeWed Dec 16, 2009 10:32 pm

Name: Diana/Danny Hadley

God/human: Human

Title: Warrior (fighter for hire)

Gender: Female (in hiding)

Age: 17
Abilities: She has a keen sense of hearing (for a human) for some reason she was just born with a good sense of hearing and used that to help find game. She also trained herself to be very agile and fast for hunting, however stealth was never on the menu, she’s working on it though. She is also a fierce warrior and will attack like an animal if need be.

Weapons: favorite is the naginata or glaive her father gave it to her when she was younger and she and her sisters and brothers learned how to use it as a long pole arm, there father thinking if they could use the long and heavy glaive they would be able to use a spear and other pole arms. It became her favorite because of her family and how she got to practice it. She also has a staff on her always; sometimes you just don’t need a five foot pole with sixteen inches of steel attached to it, especially when hunting. Bows and arrows for hunting and archery of course, and also some daggers, basically she the weapons she owns and uses are things that are needed for her old common life
.
Accessories: A small chain around her neck that holds her families ring and crest

Appearance: in the past she looked like a girl, she had long brown hair that had small waves in it that was usually left alone not put up into anything fancy. She has green eyes that looked like the forest next to her village. She stood at about 5’6” when she was 16 and might have gained an inch but has stopped growing. She is thin, but doesn’t know how much she weighs, not like she’d tell anyone even if she did, she is a girl.

She has a very small bust, which guys in her village, and her friends, would tease her about. Even with time passing her bust hasn’t grown at all, but she is grateful for it since it helps her serve her purpose. However she hated it when the guys called her flat chested and her mom told her that they would grow when she got pregnant, which now she is afraid of that happening, for more then one reason. She isn’t a stick figure, but she has to hide it now.

As Danny she has to hide the fact she is a girl so she wears bigger clothing, binds her breast, does as much as she can to hide the fact she is a girl which is why she is grateful her breasts haven’t grown that much if at all. She had chopped all of her old long hair off to make a boy’s style cut, and though she looks still a little girly she works to where people don’t question it. She has lost all of her baby fat, but she has also gained muscle to look lean. So though she shorter then the average guy she can fight.

Personality: she is very loving and caring to everyone she meets, she love music, but to hear, since she is also very shy and has no sense of tone. It’s when people know her when she becomes more outgoing in her personality. She loves a good joke and is more likely to laugh then to frown. She is loyal to a tee to all of her friends, that’s true even when she is Danny, and she is not afraid to go against her master’s back to do so.

She gave up on the gods long ago, and hates them with a passion. She does not go to one of the temples and refuses to even recognize them. As part of her hatred she burned down the temple in her old village because of it. She will make a path for herself and refuses to let any god put her down that path. She is treading her own path and revenge is on the menu, but she won’t let any others get hurt on her behalf.

As Danny, she is quicker to frown then to smile, because Danny is her job. It’s when she’s a warrior for her master, it’s her revenge. It’s when she is Danny she is not shy because she has to question, kill, and hurt. There is no time for pleasantries its just work. She is quiet as Danny though and only lives for the job to be over; some of her comrades call her the mercenary when she with them on a mission and she’s on duty.

History: Diana grew up in a small village in the land of the leopard. Her mother was an herbalist while her father was a farmer and hunter. The village was usually peaceful, except for bandits and rushers, the usual idiots for a village in the mountains, everyone learned how to fight with staffs, bows and arrows, daggers, and/or sling shots; while some of the older soldiers, or those who could afford it and learn it, had a sword. Everyone learned how to at least learn how to use a sling if not a staff or a bow and arrow, you could say it was required for her mountain village.

She had a lot of brothers and sisters, some who were way older then her and the youngest was two. Her mother might have been pregnant once more, before she died that is, as she kept throwing up in the chamber pot. She always heard her older brothers and sisters (in-laws included) talking about how their parents were like rabbits, and also them joking that they might be like that soon. Diana never really cared what her siblings said around then when she was younger.

When she turned seventeen though everything changed, an army came towards their village attacking them. The village fought back and won, they were happy about it, but something strange happened, everything started to move backwards even them. The sentries who were defeated and were in the pose of submission started to get up, evil grins on their faces, their wounds healing like they weren’t cut before. The village started to fight once more, but this time the sentries were faster and stronger then they were.

More people were killed on their side and time moved forward to where people died quicker or the time to realize what was coming and dodge was shortened. Time even paused. People kept almost dying and coming back healed. But some people stopped healing, as if the God or goddess of death was tired of their souls being taken away from them and they kept them. One time even Diana she saw the god of death reaching for her soul but time went back to heal her wounds before they became too deadly.

In the end everyone in the village was killed or enslaved, except for the few who looked to close to death or didn’t look worth it. Diana and some of her siblings were the ones who didn’t look worth it, and left to die with the corpses. The rest of the village buried those who had died, giving them only a small memorial while burning the sentries since they didn’t deserve be buried with their own. Those who were close to death were trying to heal; only some survived.

Her new eldest brother left taking her younger siblings to their great aunt in another village, Diana watched everyone left, and decided that she would get revenge. She took a torch and burned the sentries. She tore up the houses and used the wood and piled them into “holy” grounds so she could burn the temple down to the ground and vowed her revenge. She took a small dagger and with a quick slice cut all of her long hair off, leaving her with a shaggy guy’s cut.

She had made her decision, she would find the person who owned those sentries, and kill him, and whether she had to be a prostitute or a soldier in his army she would kill him. She brushed the past away and would move forward, even if she would walk into the depths of hell and back, she would destroy the monster who did this for she knew her village wouldn’t be the last if not the first. She would do anything, learn anything, even kill herself, if given a chance to get her revenge. Whatever army she joined she didn’t care, just one so she may have the chance to slay the heinous murderer who now seeks to control everything.


Last edited by SweetDreamer215 on Wed Dec 30, 2009 7:43 pm; edited 4 times in total
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PostSubject: Re: The old list.   The old list. Icon_minitimeThu Dec 17, 2009 9:58 pm

Excellent. Thanks again.

Name: Saiyn Durei
God/human: Human
Title: The Fox/ El Volpe/ The Usurper
Gender: Male
Age: 34

Abilities: The mindset and body that represents a fox in it's truest nature. Saiyn has a quick, intelligent mind. He shoots through his thoughts at blinding speed, exceeding the normal boundaries of a quick thinker. He is known for his cunning, able to trick anybody into doing something that favors himself. He is especially popular as the former High King's tactician for that reason. His plans were compared to an elderly willow tree. The tree was the plan, the branches were the variables that fate provided, but all the branches lead toward the water- his ultimate general goal.

His body is lean, strong, but he is even faster than he is strong. His body ripples with twitch-action muscles that move on the merest impulse the brain sends during a fight, making him deadly quick. Through vigorous training, it has made his body slight, slender, and compact, making it easy for him to fit into places a muscled man could not. He has a habit of feinting with one arm and then gutting the opponent with the other, so fast one would have thought the feinting hand got past the block. He suffers from awful endurance and stamina, rendering him unable to fight as time goes on. Though he is able to fight well, fighting long is not something he is good at. Rather, he is most likely going to use his strength to flee. This is why he is a tactician.

Weapons: El Volpe comes into combat with several weapons, because of his philosophy. More weapons give one more tactics, and more variables. With only one weapon, he would be limited to that weapon only and if somebody should counter it, he would meet his end. He has two weapons, and a special took used in battle to turn the odds in his favor.

His primary weapon is his elegant rapier. It is the "bite" of his tactics, mainly used when confronted or confronting. The blade is about chest height, most of it is a strong, blade forged from the best steel the smithies had to offer. Folded and pressed, the blade can withstand much pressure and punishment. The shape of the blade is like a square with inverted sides, giving it the look of a four-edged star. Each edge is flanged, very similar to a mace. The point is sharped, which gives the blade the ability to puncture. The sides give the blade the ability to bash, slice, and block. The hilt is very western-styled. Tinted gold, the crosspiece extends from the bottom of the blade in a graceful arc over the hilt and connects smoothly with the pommel. This protects the fingers from an enemy blade, effectively shielding Saiyn from getting his fingers lopped off. The hilt itself is made of the strongest yew, wrapped up in comfortable black cloth.

His second weapon is a multi-purpose tool that is versatile in battle. Known as the Monk's Spade, the weapon is much more lethal than it's name implies. The body of the weapon is a long quarterstaff, made of hardwood that is polished and wrapped in black cloth to prevent the wear and tear of the wood. On each end are differing piece of metal, used in battle and giving many ways to defeat an opponent. While the staff is already useful in blocking, beating, and keeping opponents at bay, one end is tipped with a spearhead, forged from black iron and weighted slightly at the end to give more puncturing power. It's primarily used for stabbing, and to provide an incentive to keep one's distance from the weapon. The other end has a crescent moon affixed horizontally on the end. The inner curve of the piece of steel faces away from the staff, and is sharpened to have cutting power. This part of the weapon is much more flexible, not only giving it the ability to block, but the ability to slash, bash, and bludgeon depending on how one uses it. If circumstances are right, the weapon can even cut off limbs and decapitate unfortunate opponents.

His final tool used in battle is known as the Spit of Poison. Throughout the land, there are berries that are toxic in large quantities, but only gives a amateur traveler a bad stomach sickness when consumed in small doses. Saiyn learned the techniques of the south-eastern tribes, by becoming immune to these toxins. Chewing on them everyday made him sick for at least a month, but eventually he was able to become impervious to the harmful toxins even in large doses. However, the poison can be delivered in battle through two ways. It can be slathered onto the his weapons, and poured into the sheath if it needs a new coating for the swords. But that doesn't explain the immunity training Saiyn went through, right? That is the second way of delivering the Spit of Poison. As the name implies, before or during battle Saiyn will chew a small handful of berries until it is a fine liquid. He will wait, then spit at the opponents face at a crucial moment. Three things will happen. The poison will cause blindness if it gets in the eyes, though only temporarily. The poison will cause a physical reaction, causing the target to flinch back, not expecting the move. The poison can also get into the mouth, causing a bitter taste and reaction to the berries. These three factors can give Saiyn a opportunity, but can only also be used once before the opponent starts becoming wary. It is usually a last resort or a quick way of dispatching a lone warrior.

Accessories: A simple pouch filled with poisonous berries remains tied to his side at all times. He has another pouch with a whetstone, money, and some other portable items as well. His main accessories are his cloak and necklace. His necklace is a amber statuette of a fox, tied to the neck with string and red fox fur. It is his most prized possession, a lot more in worth than taking over the world, secretly in his opinion. His cloak is mostly to keep warm, but it is not fox fur as one would expect. it is a heavy cape, long and capable of hiding his rapier and pouch of berries. It can also be used to distract and create simple illusions in certain situations.

Appearance: Standing at an imposing 6'5, Saiyn is as lean as a fox. His body is lined with twitch-muscles, giving him the power to act at a moments notice, as well as follow through equally as fast. His thin, drawn face is angular, almost feline, and is framed by short-cropped dark amber hair. His eyes are piercing, perceptive, and a murky hazel color, almost the color of sludge. His mouth is a thin, pressed line, a small appearance of barely contained stress and emotion in his otherwise colorless body language. His fingers are slightly spindly, but are strong and able to move fast. He has no hair on his arms or legs, and also has several scars along his left arm and waist.

He is dressed gallantly, but simply. He is clad in a simple white tunic, overlaid by a fancy burgandy shirt with golden laces. His legs are covered by a pair of flexible black pants, clutching his ankles tightly at the bottom of the legs to prevent them from getting in his way. On his feet are a pair of pure white woolen socks and a pair of royal shoes, laced finely and made to last with thick laces and skin. Over all that, a broad-shouldered robe that is almost more aesthetic than an actual article of clothing- with grand buttons and a two-tailed flap, it gives off a regal air no other robe could hope to imitate. He has nothing on his head, but in cold weather he will wear a balaclava-like mask and a long woolen scarf of red-gold.

Personality: For the most part, Saiyn remains calm and collected in most situations, but extremely focused underneath. His perception is what makes him a great tactician, able to notice patterns and important moves an enemy would make. A calm mind helps him concentrate, and he is very resistant to making rash or reckless decisions that could lead to disaster. He is prone to bouts of panic when the going gets extremely tough, but it is expressed as a mere widening of the eyes, faster breathing, and heart rate. It is at this point he is more likely to make a rash decision, but his pride is almost too much to let him do something like that. He enjoys having power, seeing as even though he had some as a noble he still had to answer often to those who had more. He hates feeling inferior in any ways, and despite being quick-witted, he is slow to grasp abstract concepts like love. He prefers to remain an enigma, but after all that's happened, maintaining that status has become tough.

History: Born the son of a famous tactician, he was raised with a silver spoon in his mouth. With a caring, yet somewhat cold mother he began to follow in his father's footsteps as being a great tactician. He studied for hours, obligated by the dying wishes of his father to help his son become famed across the land, no matter how it was done. The other nobles were busy playing around, jousting, drinking, being normal fools with nothing better to do. Saiyn had few friends, but the ones he had were close, often studying with him and spending their days talking rather than getting hurt in foolish jousting games or wrestling in the mud or rain. Being a tactician, one has to be out in the battlefield. When worst comes to worst, a tactician must not be a burden to anyone. Therefore, Saiyn and his friends began training in a much more diverse way than the normal soldier or knight. The art of evading, perception, and quick reactions. It was intensive, and along with tactician studies, he was mentally and physically exhausted after every day. He stuck to it, determined to follow through due to his pride, and came out as one of the best tacticians in his class, and a moderate warrior. However, when it came to the final test he proved less than adequate. His combat examinations were failures. His stamina and endurance left much to be desired, his twitch muscles failing him as a battle would drag on. Eventually, he lost, his pride forcing him to fight until he dropped unconscious. This was a habit he would later break in life.

He was widely received as a prodigy after that, though he maintains it was because of hard work- something the nobles don't usually have in their vocabulary. As he grew up, he began to hunger for power. What better way than to start in the military? He joined as a amateur tactician, working for the troops on the border. After a few successful skirmishes with local bandits and rebels, he was promoted. Wash, rinse, repeat. Soon he was working with the most elite tacticians, but was specially known for his ability to hold his own in combat unlike most of the elite. He was called for the most dangerous missions, and became known as Saiyn the Fox or El Volpe by many because of his cunning and ability to fight. Even with this prestigious status, he hungered for more, growing greedy despite his upbringing. He justified himself as driving his father's dying wish into reality.

So, he decided to go for the throne. Torren considered Saiyn one of his most trusted individuals, as a master tactician. He would be an easy target, especially... if he had the help of the gods.... That was when it hit him. How about gaining the favor of the gods and godesses? Why, with their strength, he could conquer the kingdom, nay, conquer the heavens and whatever lies after it! He began slow. He had always celebrated the goddess of passion when he was little, to celebrate human emotion with his mother, despite her... lack of emotion. He proved himself by revealing to her his ambition, and his determination. He had gained her favor. With that, he easily managed to trap the god of time, Zealox- that was his ultimate goal. He gained the staff of time, and within a day, usurped Torren and put him in chains. Too preoccupied with the task of ruling an entire kingdom after a sudden coup, he worked to wrest control of the land from those loyal to Torren. Though he was quick, with his staff of time, the goddess began to show displeasure at him. Before he could appease her, the Staff of time broke. Now the land is in shambles, and Saiyn the Fox must think of a plan to put the pieces back together while maintaining the kingdom before the Torren Loyalists do.

§


Last edited by Shiva on Thu Dec 31, 2009 5:54 pm; edited 6 times in total
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PostSubject: Re: The old list.   The old list. Icon_minitimeFri Dec 18, 2009 7:27 pm

Name: Torren Ginel

God/human: Human

Title: High King (former)

Gender: Male

Age: 32

Abilities: As High King, Torren had to develop the ability to read people very well. The only person to have tricked his keen eye was the Usurper, one of his most trusted lords. He has also been trained at most weapons, although he only excels at the sword. He is also a skilled rider.

Weapons: His favorite weapon that he carries with him is a thousand-fold heat forged long sword with a serpent forged into the blade. The handle is simple, wrapped with black leather. With it he has a matching dagger that he usually keeps in a secret compartment in his right boot. When the Usurper overthrew him, his sword and dagger were taken, and locked up in the royal treasury.

Accessories: When he was king, most of his finery was found in his clothing. The only real accessories he wore was his crown, which was made of white gold and set with emeralds.

Once the Usurper took his throne and his crown, his only accessory is a metal collar that he is forced to wear to show his position under the new king.

Appearance: Torren is the very picture of a perfect king. He is tall, almost 6’5”. His shoulders are broad and his chest is wide. He always stands with a sort of authority and pride, even when being forced to serve the one who was once under him. His hair is brown and curly, although the curls don’t show when he keeps it trimmed short. When he was king he had a neatly trimmed beard, but now he keeps his face clean shaven, since he doesn’t have much time for personal care. His eyes are a deep brown that almost seem black in some lighting.

Personality: When he was a child, Torren was a prankster, and was always considered fun-loving. Once he became king however, the weight of responsibility soon forged him into a serious man. Although he still knows how to have fun, he considers it a waste of time, and is almost always focusing more on work. Even in servitude, he throws himself at his responsibilities, waiting for a chance to reclaim his thrown before the Usurper throws his kingdom into even more chaos.

History: Torren was raised to be king. Since he was young he was given classes on his kingdom’s history, mathematics, politics, and writing. Although he took his studies seriously, he also loved to play pranks on everyone. Most of them were harmless; mice in beds, or water buckets over doors. His father would always call him into his private chambers after such antics. Although it was popular belief that Torren got harsh punishment during these times, the father and son usually ended up laughing over the prank together. Over all, he had a happy childhood, although his high rank kept him from making many friends.

Torren’s father died when Torren was eighteen, leaving the young boy with a kingdom to run. Many people were afraid that Torren would be too young or inexperienced, and some were worried that he would not take his new responsibilities seriously. Torren proved himself quickly though, showing that he was more than capable to take care of his kingdom. He spent almost all of his time working, wanting to make sure that no report was overlooked. As any king, he did have his mistakes, but he worked hard to make those few and far between.

His hard work and wisdom quickly gained him respect in the eyes of his subjects. He quickly realized that his kingdom was too large to be managed solely by him, and so he appointed lords to help govern the six territories in the kingdom. These men were all known for their ability to handle power, and they were men that Torren personally trusted.

That just made it all the more painful when one of them betrayed him. This louse of a man even turned against the gods themselves to gain power. And with a magic staff that seemed to control Time, he overthrew the High King. Torren was sent to the dungeons, where he sat awaiting execution. To his surprise however, he was not to be killed. Instead, he was taken as a personal student to the new King. Torren was appalled at first, believing that he would rather accept a quick death than such humiliation. But his mindset soon changed. With him still alive, there was a chance that he could still reclaim his throne. Once he made this decision, each day became a battle field for him. Each day that he served this false king without loosing his pride was a victory.

And so he serves. In his actions one might see a subdued man, one without hope or ambition. But in his mind nothing could be further from the truth. He serves, and waits for the opportunity that he knows must present itself someday. He serves, and waits to betray his betrayer and regain his rightful place as king.
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PostSubject: Re: The old list.   The old list. Icon_minitimeSat Dec 19, 2009 4:13 pm

Woo, got my god done! Mostly!

Name: Valden
God/Human: God
Title: God of Death
Gender: Male
Age: Since the beginning of human life; human life has always been destined to have an end.

Abilities: He works with the documentation of death and the passing of souls into the afterlife. Unlike his title implies, Valden leaves it to the fates to decide when one dies. He plays no part in the actual death of a human. He makes sure nothing goes wrong with the transfer of the soul and documents the death properly.

Weapons: While many myths may depict him as holding a scythe, Valden carries only a sword. The blade is thin, approximately three-and-a-half feet in length, and coal black, as is the handle. A shard of shining obsidian is fitted into the middle of the handle. It is carried in a black leather sheath,which is decorated with a winding design of silver vines, and rests at his hip. [color=green]He rarely finds any use for it; if anything, it’s just an object for him to polish, sharpen, and keep perfect. He could fight with it if he ever found it necessary, but he still hasn’t found it so.[/green]

Appearance: Valden stands at about six feet tall and about 140 pounds, very lean from a lack of excessive exercise. His face isn’t necessarily unattractive, but also not particularly attractive either, with narrower, sharper features and sallow cheeks. His skin is pale white, very nearly carrying a grayish tinge. His eyes, however, are a bright and sharp shade of middle-toned blue, and are perhaps the most notable of his features. As fitting, his hair is black, reaching almost to his shoulders and cut straight all the way around.

As for clothing, he sticks to gray and black. His pants are typically black, which he tucks into his boots, and his shirt an ashy gray. He has never had any desire to make his attire any more lively.

Accessories: Valden doesn’t carry much; he finds it cumbersome to carry or wear too many accessories, particularly when few people see him. He does, however, like to wear a long black cloak with a hood; normally the hood is down, but it’s not too uncommon to see it up.

Personality: Valden has always seemed like he was a little out of touch with the rest of the world. Even at the gods’ standards of a child he preferred to be left alone, absorbing himself with books or, of all things, organizing. Valden is extraordinarily organized, to the point where it would be called obsessive-compulsive. Everything in his small abode has its place, and not only that, but it is lined up perfectly straight, biggest to smallest, by color, alphabetized, or by whatever system fits best for what it is—often with more than one system. If something is out of place, his fingers will literally twitch with the urge to fix it; he only restrains himself if it belongs to somebody else, knowing that it is not his place to fix or judge how another lives (no matter how much he wants to change it). His eye for detail and love of having everything in order made him the prime for God of Death, a position which requires constant organization to maintain the log of deaths.

Socially, Valden has no skills and no desire to learn them. He typically keeps himself locked up to work, only venturing out every now and again to visit Earth for a death. He also is really only known to seek any sort of conversation with his brother Zealox, whom he occasionally asks for help to make sure he hasn’t missed any deaths when he was busy. It’s extremely difficult for him to keep up during times of plagues and such, so he sometimes asks who he should be ready for.

History: Brother to Zealox, Valden grew up with the same loving angel parents and the same perfect family. While Zealox went out and befriended others, though, Valden preferred to keep to himself. He would occasionally associate with his brother, but other than that had nothing to call a social life. This was perfectly fine with him.

Since his birth, Valden had failed to understand the war between angels and demons. He knew that his parents were against them, but that was about it. Sure, they were different, but why was that a problem? However, it failed to concern him. He kept himself happy with books, writing little scribbles, and keeping everything of his (and often of Zealox’s) organized. The world outside didn’t matter significantly to him at all. Let them war, he decided, as long as they don’t bring me into it.

In fact, the only significant event he could recall of his life was the near destruction of his family. When it became clear that the cause of it was Zealox’s secret friendship with a demon, Valden was shocked. For years he refused to speak to his brother, driven to real anger and confusion for the first time in his life. He was unsure of what to think of demons, or his brother, or anything to do with the subjects.

As he matured, he decided to not think about it. After enough years, that incident needed to be forgotten. Valden has since been unable to truly forget it, but he doesn’t bring it up. Since then he ended the silence against his brother.

With his current profession, Valden is happy to not have to worry about the war itself at all. He’s consistently busy, documenting deaths and occasionally fetching the misguided soul to send it along to the afterlife. He doesn’t have to worry about the whys and hows and everything in between, because his job is so clear-cut: this soul goes here, this name gets written on this page with this date of death.

However, since Zealox’s fall, Valden has been significantly more stressed. He aches to go down to Earth to find and help him, but his title keeps him from leaving. If he were to take any time off his documentation, his entire system would be wrecked. Deaths would be undocumented and he can’t afford to not have an eye on the moving souls. He’s taken to being even more solitary than usual, struggling to find a solution while maintaining his work.


Last edited by Syldoran on Sat Dec 19, 2009 5:32 pm; edited 1 time in total
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PostSubject: Re: The old list.   The old list. Icon_minitimeSat Dec 19, 2009 6:16 pm

Name: Lorrain

God/Demon/Human: Goddess of Wrath (and war)

Title: Lady Wrath

Gender: Female

Age: As old as the first rage.

Abilities: She fuels the negative feelings of rage in a person and strokes them like fire. Unlike her counterpart, The Goddess of Passion, she can instill the fury and rage in someone. This is only allowed since she is the ‘personification’ of the emotion of wrath. She cannot manipulate loathing or any other emotion inside a person. She often uses her snake’s tongue to coat lies in whispered ears to start fights and extremes. Once a war or battle starts she is always beside her subjects and takes part in the fray to give her favorites a better chance of success.

Weapons: She usually uses her seduction and words as weapons. When an actual battle begins, she carries with her a long bow made from the finest wood and sculpted to points on each side. The bow is painted a creamy white making it look like elephant tusks. The entire length of the bows is engraved with golden designs. The tips are painted with real gold and dipped in poison. On her hip rests the quiver of white arrows with trimmed white peacock feathers.

On her back rests a pair of twin long swords in a cross. The first blade on her right shoulder has a hilt made of silver and a thin red line coursing through it like a vein of blood. Engraved in the hilt is a dragon with ruby eyes holding a red sphere that connects to the silver colored blade. The words ‘The Wrath’ in red are inscribed down the middle of the blade. Its sheath is also colored silver with a pinkish tint.

The second blade that rests on her left shoulder has a red hilt with a thin vein of silver across it. A dragon also rests on it with silver eyes holding a silver orb. The blade is a crimson color as if it was already stained with blood. The word ‘Warrior’ rests down the middle of the blade in silver ink. The sheath his covered in a read cloth with a twirl of silver. The two swords represent her domains.

In her boots and strapped on her upper arms are small daggers tinted with poison if she runs out of weapons or in close combat. She also uses them for private missions she gives herself of which often causes the other gods trouble and irritates the fates and the God of Death.

Accessories: Besides her weapons she doesn’t carry much else. She only carries a golden pendant with a large ruby in the center clasped by a golden dragon with its mouth wide in attack. She also has little golden clasps in her hair to keep the strands out of her face in a fight.

Appearance: By all standards, she is a brunette beauty. When not fighting, she does her best to make her beauty stand out to seduce men to her bidding. Her hair curls around her face in small waves and reaches just over her shoulders. Her long dark lashes make her blue-grey eyes stand out against her skin and her rosy lips offer poisoned promises. She often wears low cut crimson or obsidian dresses that contour to her curves and bosom. She stands tall at 6’4 and has lean muscle and strength.

As a warrior, her hair is pushed back and away from her face with clips or brought up in a loose bun. Her dresses turn into armor plaid skirt and top. Her boots hug her legs and the daggers hidden there are practically nonexistent.

Personality: She is a woman firecracker to say the least. She is haughty and fierce and stands independent. She will let no man or woman, mortal or not interfere with her plans or tie her down. She has a mind of her own and witty sharp tongue to accompany it. She does not shy away from society and does her best to control the minds of mortal men. She throws herself into scandals and strokes them with a fire. She will have her way no matter the costs. She loves a good fight and carries no remorse of any death that occurs around her. If someone slanders her however, she will get her revenge tenfold. Her anger is not to be question nor her motives.

She leaves relationships alone since that is not her domain but she will indulge the fancy of anger in anyone and make it grow. She cares not for passion of love or lust but uses her figure to gain the upper hand of weakened men. Those that are loyal to her and pay tributes to her often earn her favor. She comes to them and whispers encouragements and lies to them and gives them mind to attack their foe and strike any enemy down. She is usually called upon during times of war when all else has failed. To pay tribute she only asks for sacrifices on her alter may it be human or animal. If not a blood sacrifice, she wishes for at least a single drop of blood and a weapon donned to her name.

History: Wrath was as old as Passion and it was only natural that the two would be entwined from the beginning. The first two lovers had been joined by Naline but torn apart by her sister Lorrain. Jealousy was beginning to brew for a man who had equally wished for the first woman but could not have her. Lorrain was born in the instant of the fury between the two men over this mortal woman. A raven flew overhead and in a flutter of wings, it settled on the second man's shoulder and whispered promises of success should he battle with the first man. She promised the woman as his spoils and lavished oil on the open fire. The raven took flight again and took up residence on the first man and whispered the same promises to him. From the guidelines, the raven took the form of a woman draped in brigga with a sword in her hand and a raven upon her shoulder.

That had been the first visit Lorrain had made and undid her sister's doing. She brought favor on the second man and helped him strike down the first man. The mortal woman had gone into despair over her lover's death and did not take the second man as a replacement. In the distance, the cry of a raven echoed and left the battleground. Its work was done. She had brought the victory and that was her only care.

Since then Lorrain had always been seen accompanied by the raven. In all the stories written of her, the dark raven was her messenger and harbinger of death. Lorrain picks and chooses those she favors by watching them after they offer their sacrifices. If she finds them worthy of greatness, she goes to them and bestows her gift. She is easily swayed by one with greater ambition or will. Most of her loyalists are novels, knights, and kings, all of which ask for glory and victor in their battle for the outcome decides the sway power. She finds them fun little playthings and influences them at her whim even without sacrifices but the influence could be a negative one.

Recently, she had become bored with her station and invested her time in finding out what her sister was up and working up some mischief in the plans. For centuries Naline hadn't offered her gifts so when she willingly decided to help the Volpe Noble, she quickly took interest in the situation. She watched the man and his scheming mind. She didn't much care for the outcome of the battle, but she knew that this man would lead a glorious age of bloodshed so she sprinkled her favor on his shoulders. He succeeded in overthrowing both the God of Time and the High King but it was debatable if it really was her influence at all or if it was just Naline. Eager to contribute and gain the favor over her sister, she watches and confuses the noble's mind with thoughts of war and turmoil.


Last edited by Frozen Memory on Wed Jan 27, 2010 7:18 pm; edited 2 times in total
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PostSubject: Re: The old list.   The old list. Icon_minitimeSat Jan 16, 2010 11:48 am

There, finally got her done. The chick to save Zealox later. :B

Name: Aden Lariet
God/human: Human
Gender: Female
Age: 23

Abilities: Does pretty much what a human can. She is proficient with a longbow, though, and it is her weapon of choice. She also knows how to take care of herself, and her basic skills range from cooking to sewing to low-key weapon repair.

Weapons: Weapon of choice is a mahogany longbow, which she carries slung over her shoulder with a quiver of arrows. Primarily used for hunting if she runs low on food.

Appearance: Standing at about 5’8” and 128 lbs, Aden has been considered pretty by some, but is otherwise unremarkable in her features. Her hair is a middle shade of brown, reaching a little past her shoulders and normally tied back so that she can work without it in her way. A strand of it usually hangs in her eyes, which are a pale green.

Her clothing is plain; she doesn’t like to worry about upkeep on expensive clothes when nobody really sees her. She usually wears tunics in various, usually earthy colors such as brown or dark blue and green, black or dark brown pants, and soft leather boots.

Accessories: Her longbow, a quiver, and a black satin ribbon around her throat with a silver coin hanging from it. It holds some sentimental value, having come from her father as a birthday gift when she was a child.

Personality: She has a preference to be alone, which is why she enjoys her small forest retreat. She doesn’t mind company, though, and enjoys occasionally entertaining a guest. She enjoys being helpful when she can and has a sharp wit as well. All around a generally pleasant person to be with, although she doesn’t get along with everybody and makes a point to avoid those she doesn’t.

History: As a child, Aden grew up with her loving mother and father. Her childhood was admittedly average, but she found herself connecting with her father more than her mother, contrary to what most would expect a little girl to do. She would often watch him polish weapons or do more “male-oriented” work and insist on helping him instead of her mother in the house. Amused, he taught her to use a bow when she was eleven and would take her on hunting trips as she grew older.

Unfortunately, when Aden was fourteen, her father fell ill and passed away. Aden did her best to take it in stride, but was still heartbroken for months afterward without her role model. When she recovered, her mother took the opportunity to begin teaching Aden to be more “womanly” as she had hoped her daughter would be. Aden reluctantly learned to cook, sew, and do everything else she was expected, but she never quite took the personality her mother wanted and continued to insist on hunting and practicing with her bow. Eventually her mother gave up entirely and let her do what she wanted, having to be satisfied knowing that Aden could take care of herself.

A few more years later, Aden left home at the age of nineteen, expecting to find her own work and no longer rely on her mother. Somewhere, her plans changed, and after saving a fair amount of money she retreated to a small house at the edge of the woods, away from town but still close enough for her to make trips for food and other things.

She had been living there for about a year, working in town and selling homemade wares, when she began to feel a slight tug of loneliness. She ignored it for awhile, until the perfect answer came during one of her trips into town. A man was trying to sell a dog outside a shop. Although short on money at the time, Aden was struck by the dog’s beautiful resemblance to a black wolf and, sure she could train him, she bought him.

Since then she’s lived alone, her only companion being her dog, affectionately named Marik. She’s quite content with her lifestyle, getting enough human contact through her weekly trips to town to keep herself sane.
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PostSubject: DONE!   The old list. Icon_minitimeSat Jan 30, 2010 1:50 pm

Name: Simon (last name pending)

God/human: Human

Title: Chief Medical Officer

Gender: Male

Age: 25

Abilities: None that he knows of. But then again, it’s widely accepted that ordinary humans don’t have any sort of special abilities either. It’s most probable that he doesn’t have any, or would never have any in his entire life.

He does, however, have a talent for medicine. His quick brain allows him to react swiftly and accordingly to a host of emergencies ranging from the sudden and unexplained cardiac arrests or violent and unexpected seizures. During the course of his teenage years, he had collected a vast knowledge of medicine that he could call upon immediately in times of crisis. Much of this knowledge had eventually sunk into intuition. He had allegedly boasted he could conduct an amputation alone armed only with a scalpel and sewing kit while wearing a blindfold and standing on one leg. He later remarked he actually couldn’t do it on one leg, because two legs were necessary for balance. It was assumed he went ahead and tried to take on his dare.

Weapons: If scalpels and scissors counted as some sort of weapon, then that’s what Simon is armed with; he has no previous training in any type of martial art or swordplay, save the times when he was taking basic self-defense courses as a child. He proved to be completely useless in the midst of the battle, as proven by his failure, as his parents had suggested to him, to try to join the palace guards. He does, however, know how to handle bows and arrows, daggers, and swords (rule: just swing the pointy end around) if he happen to come across the right weapon on the right occasion. In the recent days, Saiyn had ordered him to keep with him a small dagger, always, for reasons unknown to him. He had since tipped this dagger with a poison only he has an antidote to. He had intended for it to be a last-resort bargaining chip, but this dagger never found its way to Simon’s side. It was kept, instead, hidden and out of reach in Simon’s medic case.

Accessories: The doctor doesn’t accessorize much; a doctor of those ages was not only highly esteemed, but highly worn-out. Because of his lack of trained staff, he is constantly kept working by the patients who just don’t seem to want to recover. For this reason, Simon nears to wear simple and light clothing that can be easily replaced or covered with a medic’s vest or cloak. He also carries with him, a medic case that he never let out of his sight. He felt like every time he found time to be free, something always came up, and he always had to be there.

He has not yet reached the bespectacled age; though he had stayed up through the endless nights, his eyes had not deteriorated.

Beneath his clothing, though, he carries with him a small necklace his sister had given to him. It is a small quartz crystal attached to a simple, silver chain. She had made it herself, and he had not wanted to forget her during his time in the palace.

Appearance: Standing at an unimpressive 5’ 8”, Simon looks a little weak, but is surprisingly strong. He exercises daily and is as healthy as a doctor can be (excessively). His arms and chest look small, but the fat in them have long since been burned away by midnight emergencies at the medical ward. His brown hair is cropped short to keep it out of the way, so that it wouldn’t be a nuisance when changing robes or conducting surgeries. His eyes are a dark brown, usually drooped and weary from a long night’s work, and it is rare to find them energetic and lively.

His usual dress consists of anything that’s sophisticated, may it be a vest or shirt, paired with . His medical clothing is comprised of normal white dress shirt and pants, covered by a white, starched, and sterilized cloak. His case would be found beside him. As a battle medic, however, he would don a heavier leather vest that would provide no protection whatsoever; in fact, it would probably draw the enemy’s attention instead. A cap always cover his hair; his feet are usually covered with a soft white shoe, but boots would provide the defense against fallen shrapnel during wars. The dagger that should have been strapped to the belt has been misplaced, and Simon enters battles unarmed with the exception of his one poisoned dagger.

Personality: Simon can be characterized as a kind and loving person with a calm disposition. He shows affection and personal connections towards all his patients, caring for them and trying to ease their pain. He would visit them every day without fail, keeping them company, checking their vitals and asking if they are feeling any sort of unusual pain. He often overreacts to any false alarms, keeping a mindset that said to be better safe than sorry. He had been there for those who had died on his watch, so he understands the values of life and treats everyone the best he can.

Simon is not a cold-hearted person, but at he could be egotistical at times. His superiority in the practice of medicine gets to him, and he tries hard to suppress it. Yet, he finds the thoughts of shirking away from his inferiors constantly creeping into his head. He sometimes questions his reasons for helping the sick and injured, reminding himself of how much power he has over them. He had even considered taking a vacation from his duties to rewire his mind, but his work seemed so important at the moment.
Despite his random outbursts of anger, he is still generally kind. He shows the most affection for his younger sister, who at the age of nine, is still living in his home village. He treasures her more than anything else.

History: Simon was born in one of four small villages near the High King’s castle, one of the “central” villages that are blessed by their proximity to Torren. In the event of an attack, the castle is able to rush troops to their aid and in return, the villagers provide the High King with food and people. It was a perfect relationship that grew between the two and had lasted for many years. But when the Usurper Saiyn arrived, the villagers were uncertain of their future. Would the “Fox” be repulsed by them and push them away?

Simon still remembers the reign of Torren, with its peaceful six sides of the land, each ruled by its own lord. And to his knowledge, when Saiyn took over, seemingly nothing has changed; there were still the occasional guard sent out to check on their safety and the demand for the food they provide has not increased to outrageously large numbers. In fact, the six territories of the providence have been united one rule—something that Torren himself has failed to do. And when all the mysterious “Fox” asked of them was their undying loyalty, what could they do but oblige?

Simon, as a child, has been seen as a gifted boy, and everyone expected for him to grow up to become some sort of scientist. His parents were proud of the way he’d turned out. At the age of five, he began spending much of his day in the healer’s dwelling, assisting in the medicinal arts. The healer doted on him and taught him to read and write. At the age of seven, he took his first trip to the palace to find Torren’s hospital wards horrifyingly inadequate for accommodating the dying warriors. After watching a guard seize and die convulsing with his very own eyes, he decided he would do in his power to find his place in the medical practice. By the time he was twelve, he had taken over much of the healer’s duties. In the year or so, he had done wondrous things ranging from treating his father with an infectious bear wound to finding the cause of a small village-wide epidemic. The healer retired after that, being crippled by the outbreak of disease. He offered Simon education from his bed while the boy took over the healer’s duties. At the age of fourteen, his sister was born.

Simon loves his sister more than anything, and he had worked very hard to keep his sister safe from harm. But Samantha wasn’t as gifted as he was; it was all Simon could to do to keep her out of trouble while completing his studies as a doctor. Several times, Simon had told Sam to keep out of the woods, and several times, Sam had run back home with a cut to the finger. But Simon wasn’t angry; he still loves her a lot, and had even tried to pass some of his knowledge on to her, to no avail. His sister had no talent in medicine—even bandaging her own fingers was a difficult task. Simon even tried to scare her by telling her about all the different kinds of flesh-eating infections she could get, while all Sam did was smile sweetly back at him.

Samanatha was a sweet girl, and she spent a lot of her time with Simon when he had time off. They would play games together, go swimming together, and go fishing together. There were a perfect pair of siblings that no one could separate. Sam was always attached to Simon, and understands him even better than his mother. Simon would keep her company every day, and when he had to leave, Sam knew that what he does was more important than play time. During these times, she would go out wandering by herself, looking for treasures. The one time she found a piece of pretty quartz, she made it into a necklace for Simon. Simon could not have asked for a better sister.

Torren, however, was not as good as he had expected. When Simon started taking the medical entrance exams at the age of twenty, his superiors all seemed to frown on him. His test scores came back worse than expected. He found it suspicious that the report he received was filled with short, descriptiveless comments like “inadequate” and “bad”. There was no other comment than “not good enough.” Fearing he had done something wrong, he tried again the next year, only to find it was all the same. No matter how much he studied, and no matter how well he thought he did, he never passed the exams. The villagers began to grow impatient and weary of him, coming back each time with papers marked with “failure.” Even his parents started wondering if Simon had not been the prodigy they thought he was after all. Only his sister understood him.

Simon’s parents, unsure of Simon’s future, panickedly enlisted him to become a palace guard. Simon, seeing no option, attempted to enlist, only to find he failed at nearly every single test. His parents consoled him in staying in the village instead of trying to reform the palace hospitals.

And then came the day High King was struck down by the Usurper. Simon attempted one last time at reaching the place he thought was his. Instead of being tested by Torren’s officials, he was tested by Saiyn himself. He passed with flying colors.

The only problem he had with his new job would be that he was to stay within the palace at all times. He was only allowed to visit his old village several times a year, and he knew that Samantha would sorely miss him. He explained the consequences of his job to her, who responded by telling him that his job was more important. But Simon saw tiny tears being held back.

The next day, he left for the palace. During his time there, he worked as one of numerous new doctors, under the hateful eye of the chief medical officer of his time. After singlehandedly saving more than thirty lives at a battle as the only volunteer to be a medic, he was promoted by Saiyn himself to replace the chief. From his position, he began lecturing the inexperienced doctors and nurses in the medicine, which in turn rescued significantly more lives than the administration of the old chief ever did. Simon went on to serve as the leading surgeon as well as Saiyn’s personal doctor. He led his team of newly trained medics into battle to find and assist wounded soldiers. His parents would be proud of him. His sister, too.

But in the middle of his research, Saiyn interrupted him to give him a dagger. From what he could tell, there seemed to be a problem with the Torren loyalists. Time would tell.

-----

I have assumed it's one year between the usurping and the destruction of the staff.
I hope you all like it.
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Ari
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PostSubject: Re: The old list.   The old list. Icon_minitimeMon Mar 01, 2010 4:40 pm

Yeeg. I think I'm setting the precedent for the season gods. I'm thinking this is how the gods are aged from eldest to youngest:

- time
- death
- birth

- passion
- wrath
- punishment
- honor

- beauty
- art

- winter/summer

It goes something like this:

In the beginning, the universe sprang into existence, in whichever way, and the God of Time was waiting; he led the destinies, the planets and stars and the such, and they collided as they should have, and time was forward, and straight.

Then came life; they weren't exactly born, however. They just appeared somehow, just there, alive, with their simple lives. The God of Death then began his first accounts and wrote down the nameless.

Then two was able to form one, and the God of Birth was waiting.

Then the emotions come along, whichever order I dunno, although I think that passion comes first, and then out of that, wrath, and with wrath comes punishment, and honor I dunno where to stick, so I stuck it at the end.

Then beauty and art comes after, when all the people settled down.

After that, seasons became definite, and that's why I'm taking the seasons gods are both of "teenager" age, at least in relation to all the other gods, if no one understood what the quotes are emphasizing.

Anyway, that's for you guys to decide on.


I'm going with this for the gods:
The two twins are named Wint and Summ; the people call a period of time either more Wint or more Summ, which sort of evolves into Winter and Summer. Sort of an adjective that became a noun.

The two will either be dressed oppositely, or mostly alike. Their powers are obviously of their season, or it could be a twist and be totally opposite. I dunno.

But the other thing is, I can't figure out how to put up the myth of Summer and Winter. I was gonna put that once every year, each of them goes out and walks the land, which makes the land either hotter or cold, but I don't really know how that works. Like, why on earth would they just go and take a walk?

And then personality would be a problem, too. It'd be the obvious route to make Wint totally dark and evil boy who loves death, and Summ a bright, cheery, happy girl, but you guys should know I'm all for the anti-cliche. I'm thinking, if the opposites have to work that way, then Wint would at least be the bright and cheery boy who is upset that he kills the crops, and Summ is the emo-ish girl.

But I was hoping they'd both be of the same gender and personality. Preferrably two bright and cheerful girls.

I also dropped this in the back of my head: Summ will be a heat source, whereas Wint will be a heat sink. This means Summ is hot, and Wint is cold, and anyone standing around them would feel that way. That's why they hang around each other to neutralize any problems with temperature.

I want Summ as my god.
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PostSubject: Re: The old list.   The old list. Icon_minitimeSat May 22, 2010 5:40 am

Name: Lord Kyrios

God/Demon/Human: None, A Kitsune (Barely)

Title: 'The Black Fox' to those who want to paint an image of fear.
'Thieving Bastard' to everyone else.

Gender: Male

Age: One day people will stop asking me this...

Abilities: As with all Kitsune, his abilities revolve around energy but Kyrios is able to suck it out of almost anything right down to the last dregs of life. His other abilities are, however, limited: conjuring weak, purple flames; possession only when the victims guard is down and illusions no more amazing than simply a black, barren room. He has managed to learn how to create a portal from one place to another without to much trouble however...

Aging: Supposedly slow but under fur, wrinkles are invisible.

Motif: His arrogant smile

Weapons: Kyrios' abilities tend to replace any need for weapons so the suit of armour he wears is used in the place of a sword. The plates covering the forearms are used to block blades while his metal-covered knuckles have an obvious use.

Appearance: Usually, you'll be met with a scowl of some kind. The murderous black irises against the similarly coloured fur. It covers the top half of his head except for the tuft of white on top. His white muzzle curls slightly at the sides but stops at his neck. His armour hasn't any remarkable features except that its kept polished. Smooth, perfectly fitting plates stay in place on a strong bodysuit underneath. His paw-like palms are exposed to show their leather like appearance. The same goes for the large paws he stands on at the bottom of each leg. He was a simple and unremarkable appearance.

Personality: Kyrios appears to make it a sport to make an enemy or ally out of everyone he meets.

If he wants you to join with him, he'll turn on that surface charm. Outwardly trying to make you laugh, offering all that he can, making you feel wanted and respected.

The more usual Kyrios is described as a bastard. He will try to undermine what your saying with a torrent of insults. He will pick on something about his new enemy, hammering away at that flaw till he finds more. Then he'll do the same to them. Self-serving and ruthlessly single-minded in what he is trying to achieve. If he can't simply take what he wants, every often he'll just return with something huge, ugly and deadly to try again. And again. Whether its true he hates everyone or not, he's not likly to make friends easy or play nicely.

Except with his good lady wife and daughter...

History: It seems to be like that of a Panto Villain. A group of teenagers continuously foil his plans of conquest. OK. Maybe more a Saturday morning cartoon...

He was warped as a result of a Kitsune's physical change to forms of energy but his choice to turn to his current life is his own. He could see he could take what he wanted so did so. He's build up an empire through driving certain places into the dust in order to get the most military force out of a place. This has served him well and made him a force to be reckoned with.
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Ari
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PostSubject: Re: The old list.   The old list. Icon_minitimeTue Jun 01, 2010 7:03 pm

Okay okay okay. I finally finished the app for the Summer God! I'm sorry it took so long, but the AP tests are killer.

- - - - - - - - - -

Name: Lady Sumter, or just Sumter

God/human: God

Title: The Child of Warmth

Gender: Female

Age: As old as the first summer

Abilities: As the Child of Warmth or the representation of the season of Summer, it is obvious she has the powers of heat. She acts as a natural heat source; her body has a heated core and her skin is warm to to the touch. She constantly radiates with warmth, making her environment a little too hot for comfort, which is often an unfavorable aspect of her character. To remedy this, she is always found beside her twin brother, the God of Winter, who is a heat well in contrast. He absorbs all excess heat that Sumter generates, effectively neutralizing their seasonal effects.

But instead of continuously dispersing her heat, she is able to concentrate the energy into a fine point or area, which when combined, increases exponentially to the point of melting metals. With this power, she is able to move her heat towards her palm, compressing it until she possesses the ability to liquefy almost anything in her path. It is, however, uncomfortable to do so to such degree, because it causes burns and blisters on her skin that may take weeks, even months to heal over.

Weapons: At this point, a weapon is not for her consideration, since she is, in essence, still a child. She would rather sit at home and have fun.

Accessories: Her most important accessory is the locket that dictates the seasons. For six months a year, she carries the locket with her, signifying her supreme reign of summer. The locket itself is a plain oval, either heat-gold laced with a cool-silver or cool-silver laced with a heat-gold. A bronze clasp keeps it shut, hiding the tiny model of the mortal world inside, which slowly heats up as she dangles it over her heart with a brazen chain. Twice a year, there is a small ritual where she passes or receives the locket to or from her brother, which indicates the change of seasons.

On her wrist is always some sort of bracelet, often golden or scarlet in color. She either ties back her hair with a warm-colored tie or clips, or lets it hang free.

Gods don’t need the mortal accessories, like spectacles. They are gods.

Appearance: Standing at a normal height of 5’-1”, Sumter is growing at a normal rate, assuming that gods do have a normal rate of growth. For them, one year in human terms may last for a hundred; gods are immortal and will always be.

She is thin, adorable, and of course, as all gods are, invariably beautiful. Her hair is a soft auburn-brown, with eyes that are shaded reddish tones. Her skin is not tan, but it is not pale, either. She has a fine, envious body structure. The baby fat finally beginning to fade while her freckles are starting to become more prominent. To a human, she looks as if she has lived for eleven years, still prepubescent. She is, indeed, as others would describe her, very cute.

She favors light clothing. Even though she is mostly immune to warm or hot weather, she still dresses in airy clothing that makes her look like she is trying to cool down. Anything flowery or warm-colored, she will instantly love, anything deemed “cute” or “pretty,” she will instantly adore and place into her collection of clothing. The collection itself is vast, built up over the years, piling with clothes that are either given to her or home-sewn. Most prominent in her collection are dresses of almost any sort, almost all of which she has no idea what they're called. All she needs to know is that ONE, they are dresses, and TWO, they are pretty..

Personality: As an opposite to her brother, Sumter is a rascal, a prankster, if you will. While her brother broods all the time for all his inadvertent deaths he had wrought with his season, Sumter does not care at all what happens in her season. Some gods chastise her for allowing droughts to happen, but she knows it’s all part of the chaos that leads into order. People sometimes despise her for letting their rivers dry up, or letting their loved ones die of heat strokes, but Sumter doesn’t care; it wasn’t her job to keep people alive. It was only her job to keep Summer in its place—not too early, not too late.

She lives a carefree life, always cheery and fun, often unknowingly rude. She is childish, and would love to do anything for a good laugh, even if at the expense of others. The only person she truly cherishes is her brother, who has been with her for the whole of her life, and she pities his misery, often wishing that he could trade seasons with her. She would rather have the power to destroy, since it brings so much more fun than the power to create.

Behind this persona of blind and cheerful optimism, she hides behind it, a dark and cynical core. She is narcissistic and sometimes hateful, characteristics that occasionally shines through the cracks in her shell. The narcissism is an unfailing habit that can be easily detected, but the hate is cleverly shrouded. There are also times where she is upset with the world, just as a child would with a temper tantrum, blaming the misgivings on whoever she finds is at her closest.

Her eating habits are infamous. Even though gods have no reason to eat, Sumter demands that she eats three times a day just like a mortal would. She loved their foods and their cultures, and spends her time studying and often becoming a mortal just to feel their life in her hands. No matter how much she eats, though, she doesn’t get any fatter.

History: Little Sumter and her brother sprang forth a few days before the humans began distinguishing between the time of heat and the time of cold. The two children watched the humans call her season a time of warmth and thriving, and his season a time of cold and despair. In truth, Sumter was not a loving person at all, and her brother was the one that wanted to make life thrive, but the ideas had already taken root in human society and culture. The four seasons were created in honor of the twin gods, and yearly offerings were made to the two. Then they were both welcomed to the family of Gods, properly introduced, and took their place in the hierarchy.

Sumter’s work was just starting; she was a relatively new god, compared to all the other gods that reigned, and she tried to do her best to make sure that her brother never held control of the human world for more than six months. But life for a god of seasons was easygoing—there wasn’t much work she had to do other than giving and receiving the locket to and from her brother twice every month. And between the rituals that allow for the passing of the torch, she finds her life very boring indeed. So she and her brother would just walk the world in search of mortals to study, to converse with, and most of all, play tricks on. It was all Sumter’s idea, really, since her brother was more sympathetic to the humans. She was a prankster in her family, whereas her counterpart was the lover.

However, there were occasional times that Sumter would find the opportunity to play tricks on other gods. The last time she did so, it resulted in two long, long years of continuous winter as her punishment. She was forbidden to receive the locket for two cycles, whilte being grounded within her home. This taught her to never play any serious tricks ever again.

A season is more than just hot or cold; it also dictates the time when crops fail and when crops are thriving, when bears sleep and when they wake, when the trees grow bare and when they sprout green. Sumter finds herself much worshiped, while many farmers prayed for her brother’s leave.

The Twins are just beginning their lives...

- - - - - - - - - - -

I'll get my post for Simon all ready soon.
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PostSubject: Re: The old list.   The old list. Icon_minitimeThu Aug 26, 2010 11:10 pm


Character sheet:

Name: Ira Justicia
God/human: God
Title: The God of Wrath, The Fell One, Mask of the Crimson.
Gender: Male
Age: Ira has existed long before sentient life… all creatures feel rage… all creatures fight… even the smallest of single celled creatures devour and thus their has always been a form of war… no matter how small.

Abilities: His powers are great and many… capable of implanting such feelings of rage he could drive men insane… or slay them as their heart bursts from the pressure. The strongest god in the way of martial combat he commands the celestial army and few are willing to challenge him. He sends forth eagles as an omen of fortune in combat… and his horn rallies courage in those who lack it… From wrath comes destruction… and thus his powers over the realm of destruction are almost equal to his power of wrath.

Weapons: A massive hulking great axe which he wields with one hand, no other god has the physical strength to lift such a weapon… it delivers such fell blows it is said to be the reason forth earthquakes. Besides this he wields a war horn, a two spears and a short sword.

Accessories: He has a dragon fang necklace and a banner of the celestial armies is carried upon his back.

Appearance: Standing almost nine and a half feet tall this massive god strikes fear and horror into those who lay eyes upon him. His darkened flesh is knitted together with his metal armor bone occasional shone due to the aspect of death in war. Metal plates form a half suit of plate covering most of his body. Fire burns through the cracks of his armor and flesh his hair moves upwards made of pure evil essence it drifts backwards with unearthly presence.

His eyes are bright red pinpoints with a bright ring of lighting blue that pulsates around his soul piercing pupils. His cloak is long knitted from the flesh of war criminals and deserters for ruining his sacred art. His face…the front half is skeletal mixed with metal which draws back into flesh that melds into a mock of a Greek helmet. His weapons mounted on his back with his short sword at his side. He is every aspect of war… Fear… Destruction, Death, and Insanity…

His voice… is of such a sound it could send chills down hardened warrior’s back… his voice is of the silent and eerie quality… which only exists after a slaughter… or before one. His voice alone has driven men mad… and even gods seem unnerved by the evils of his speech.

Personality: Quiet and calm… but once angered he is not one to calm down until the object of his anger ceases to exist… Never making idle threats he always aims to keep his word be it a threat or promise… he is not one for keeping military treaties how ever…

History: He is said to be the third after time… not even time knows whether or not this is true. He is said to have been born within seconds of Time itself… for once a thinking creature came into existence… so did he. He has existed as a mortal sin for many a eternity his powers are incredible and thus he is often left alone in his home where the fallen soldiers are taken from the after life to… here he trains his army for the protection of the heaven’s from the souls of the fallen mortals. He is otherwise a very private and secretive god… few have the courage to try and find out much more about him then this…










































Last edited by The_Iron_Cross on Sun Aug 29, 2010 11:56 am; edited 1 time in total
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Soviet Rei
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PostSubject: Re: The old list.   The old list. Icon_minitimeSun Aug 29, 2010 3:26 pm

Name: Rei zu Vulfenstein

God/human: Neither, really...he is an artificial vampire (created with the properties of an elder vampire) and a Being of the Void.

Title: None

Gender: Male

Age: As essentially a part of the Void, Rei has existed since before time began. He only gained consciousness, however, as a being, several hundred years ago.

Abilities: First and foremost he can manipulate the energy of the Void; this allows him to alter, create, and destroy using its power. The Void's energy appears a dark purple shade, and only those born of the Void, Rei included, can manipulate its energy. Secondly, as an elder vampire he is proficient in the summoning of demons, and is a powerful dark magic user. Finally, also as an elder vampire, he has superhuman reflexes, speed, and strength, as well as superhuman senses.

Weapons: He uses no weapons except those created of the Void.

Accessories: He keeps nothing with him that he does not need.

Appearance: He stands at only 5'11, appearing to be only a young man. He has pale skin, silver hair that falls to his shoulders, and unnerving eyes that are a shade of purple--a sign of his origins in the Void. His face typically has no expression, never moving from its stony, stoic lack of feeling. He wears no armour, instead wearing a simple but elegant suit, dark coloured with white lining. When he speaks, it is in a flat, monotone voice with no feeling to speak of, quiet but commanding.

Personality: As one could expect from his appearance, Rei is a being apparently devoid of emotion: love, hatred, happiness, and melancholy are concepts alien to him, and he cannot understand the suffering and the joys of others. Even in combat he displays only cold efficiency and ruthless mercilessness.

History: The Void has been present since the very first gods were born; created of the left over energy from the previous world, it has no presence, no tangible being. Some have said it appears differently for everyone who looks upon it, some have said that it is a separate reality in itself, and still others have said that it is a conscious, sentient being of its own. Only the gods can properly know. They use the Void as a sort of depository, depositing their unneeded knowledge and energy into it. From this deposited energy the Void began to manifest a part of itself. Soon that part gained presence, and consciousness, and form: it appeared as a vampire, and called itself Rei zu Vulfenstein. Since then he has wandered the world, seeking ways to further his knowledge.

I'm sure this will probably be pretty controversial...I got the basic character itself from a character I RPed in an RP Psyco and I were in. Any questions about the Void--as I'm sure there will be--I will answer, and if it is not acceptable, I'll change it.
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The_Iron_Cross
Hatchling
Hatchling
The_Iron_Cross


Posts : 28
Join date : 2010-08-26
Age : 32

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PostSubject: The old list.   The old list. Icon_minitimeMon Sep 13, 2010 1:53 am

Ok, I'm giving a try for the Usurper for when every thing is reset. Would like to have him ready for when that happens so here he is.


Character sheet:

Name: Victar Maradon
God/human: Human
Title: The Raven Winged, The White Lord, The Gilded Voice.
Gender: Male
Age: 36

Abilities: Who says words cannot harm someone… this man can disprove such falsities. Though a capable warrior it is his tongue which is feared. His words has encouraged his followers into deeds of greatness and his enemies into daunting despair. It is believed he defeated an entire army by simply talking to them, showing them the faults of their actions and the holes in their motives.

Well trained in combat he wields steel as his weapon, and pride and defiance as his only shield. His reputation and agility the only armor he needs. Twisting tales of himself to make no man willing to stand against him in arms and easily dodging their unnerved and shaky attacks while delivering fell and death blows at his foes undermined defenses.

Weapons: A thin straight blade.
Throwing Knives.
miscellaneous potions to give the illusion of magic and powers. (Holy water/ Alchemist Fire/ Acid Vials/ ect...)

Accessories: He has a dragon fang necklace and a banner of the celestial armies is carried upon his back.

Appearance: A emancipated man of no more then five feet and eleven inches.
Still he holds such a dominate… stature of will, pride, honor, and defiance one swears him taller and stronger then he is. Pale grey hair runs down his pale icy white flesh… the pigment killed off by the extreme power of the staff of time. His eyes bright green and give off a feeling that he looks into one’s very soul.

Dressed in white robes gilded with silver and an overlaying breast plate of platinum. A billowing cloak of white blows behind him and a circlet of cold iron is worn upon his head. His sword is kept at his side, his trickeries kept hidden in his belt and large sleeves.



Personality: Calm and patient he prefers to talk things out before resorting to brute force. Wielding a tongue of silver razors he can cut his foes deep or lure his potential allies in with his fiendish words. Slightly arrogant he does give credit where its due… though he will always find a reason to make his own part look the best and most important of the lot.

History: Always building trying to gain power, through tricks or brute strength he stops at nothing to succeed his own goals. Which lead him to take the position as a lord. His enemies vanishing mysteriously or joining his side. Beneath his wake a dark period befell his lands misery which… quickly became a place of patriotism beneath his vivid and wondrous tales spun from his fabled words. Gaining the support of even his foes he quickly grew in power bringing his entire territory under one mindset. Even though to outsiders his people seemed to live horrible lives he kept them happy, his speeches keeping them loyal. After gaining the trust and support of a goddess he stole the staff of time and used it to take power with out bloodshed. He now plots how to keep power now that the staff his shattered and twisted time itself.

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