RPG
Introduction
When Earth was young, before humans had even begun living in villages, it was a home of great and terrible nightmares. Beings so old and so powerful that nothing on the planet dared stand to them. These beings' origins were never determined, but they were much older than Earth, for it was a young world. However, the Otherworld was ancient. It existed beside Earth, and only a thin wall kept the beings of the Otherworld from Earth. The Otherworld was filled with powerful races and great civilizations, dangerous beasts, and evil spirits. But as more and more races appeared in the Otherworld, they began to war over their lands. This time was known as the Colonization, and is one of the darkest times in Otherworld history. Ancient giants, known as the Fomorians, began a campaign to conquer the Otherworld, but were opposed by the Tuatha De Danann, the Old Kind, the Titans, and the Elfkind. The Otherworld War forced many races to leave for Earth. The Jotunn, who sided with the Fomorians, helped to defeat the Aesir, forcing many of them to leave the Otherworld. The Old Kind, along with the Tuatha De, forced the Fomorians back and wedged a stake between them and their allies the Jotunn. The Fomorians were then forced into a treaty by the Tuatha De, and the Old Kind freed the Aesir land from Jotunn and Fomorian troops. After the initial war, many smaller battles ensued between the races, forcing thousands more through the Wall and into Earth. This mass migration was at the height of the Colonization, and was marked as the second time the Horsemen were seen.
This woke the Earth Lords.
Very few of them were taken from their slumber, but those that moved made the powerful races of the Otherworld tremble in fear. Many of the first races to cross over banded together to defeat these few Earth Lords, mainly by forcing them back into their sleep. But the threat of these beings never faded. The Otherworld races warred for thousands of years over lands on Earth, the longest of which was the infamous Faerie-Pixie war, which reached from Ireland, past Greece, briefly into Scandinavia, and into Russia at its height. The second most famous was the Titanomachy in Greece. The Faerie-Pixie War, otherwise known as the Tuatha De Civil War, roused Chernobog from his sleep; and the Titan War woke the invincible Typhon. Both of which were dealt with. Chernobog was forced back to sleep, and Typhon was imprisoned. Eventually, the rise of the human race forced the Otherworld races into hiding.
As time passed, the Wall began to grow thicker during different seasons. But, on Samhain, or All-Hallows-Eve, the Wall returned to how it once was thousands of years ago for that single night. This was also the night that the Otherworld races become most powerful in both worlds; and was also when the Earth Lords' sleep grew lightest.
The Otherworld races faded to myth, but a few of these beings that resembled humans - such as Scathach and Aoife - began to live amongst the mortal race. They shaped folklore, legends, and even science by intermingling with humans. They, in turn, began to feel closer to the young race than to their own kind. They learned to ignore the hidden wars and rivalries all over the world, some of which threatened to destroy all of that the humans had built.
What nobody expected was for Samhain to come eternally.
Heralded by a terrible sight of the Horsemen riding as one, the sky grew dark, and a blood moon rose one night, never to set again one All-Hallows-Eve. Humans were confused and frightened by this new development. And the Otherworld races that had been scorned during the Colonization saw this as a chance at revenge. But slowly, one-by-one, the Earth Lords are now threatening to wake. This is Earth's darkest hour, become unending.
((The RP will start the morning of Halloween, not when the Horsemen ride.))
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Races/Beings
Old Kind: The Old Kind are the first vampires, and the oldest and most powerful of the Otherworld races. It is an unspoken rule to never ask their origin. It is theorized that this is caused by their own lack of knowledge regarding their beginning. Unlike their watered down descendants, the Old Kind are not weak to sunlight, garlic, crucifixes, or holy water, and have reflections. The only way to Kill an Old Kind is by an accurate hit to the heart, or by severing their head. Though, to do either you have to get close, and that may just be the last thing you ever do. However, there are rare cases where an Old Kind lives after their head has been severed. This is extremely rare. In such cases, the head simply need to placed back onto the neck. No matter how decayed it is, the head will reattach, and the head will return to its original state.
Skinwalkers: The Were-Kind tribes are the ancestors of the Lycans. The tribes are divided, and each can turn into a certain animal. Be it bear, wolf, lion, bird, boar, or tiger. They could turn into anything, and are not ruled by the moon, as the Lycans are.
Tuatha De Danann: Descendants of Nemed and Danu, the Tuatha De are not one of the oldest races in the Otherworld, but at one point they were one of the greatest superpowers. Forced to Earth after a series of grueling defeats in the Otherworld War, half of their race passed through the Wall in their mighty fleet of steel ships, hidden by a magically conjured fog. They claimed Ireland from the Fir Bolg in the First Battle of Magh Tuiredh, led by their king Nuada. And in the Second Battle of Magh Tuiredh they faced the bulk of the Fomorian army. Though Nuada was killed, they succeeded in defeating the Fomorians, ending their reign as a major power in the Otherworld, and any chance of them obtaining such a status on Earth. The race was originally split into two courts: The political and radical Faerie Court, and the militaristic and conservative Pixie Court. The Pixie Court was based in England, and the Faerie Court in Ireland. The Faerie Court split from the Pixie Court, and when the Pixies tried to regain Ireland it sparked a war that lasted for thousands of years, outdating the Titanomachy, and even waking the terrible Black God, Chernobog. The war eventually ended when the Pixie army, also called the Grand Army of the Aos Si, defeated the Faeries at the River Parrett, forcing them back to Ireland forever. The Faeries eventually split into two Courts: The Seelie, or Holy, Court; and the Unseelie, Unholy, Court. The Faeries and the Pixies are still ultimately ruled by Nemed and Danu, who reign over the Tuatha De still living in the Otherworld. They do not, however, have wings and are not tiny.
Elfkind: The Elven Tribes are one of the Oldest races in the Otherworld, and have always been one of the most powerful. They are split into two races: The Liosalfa, the Light Elves, and the Svartalfa, the Dark Elves. The two sides have always lived in a sort of harmony, though never completely. They claimed Scandinavia as their land, along with the Dwarves, the Aesir, and the Jotunn. During the Faerie-Pixie War, they helped the Pixies force the Faeries out of Scandinavia. The Svartalfa are master blacksmiths, and the Liosalfa brilliant politicians. Both sides, however, are near unrivaled warriors.
Titans: The ancient Titans once ruled Greece before being overthrown by the Olympians. Along with the Old Kind, the Elfkind, the Aesir, the Jotunn, and the Fomorians, the Titans are one of the oldest races in the Otherworld. They are beings of great strength and tremendous elemental power. Though they have been mostly restricted to the Otherworld since the Titanomachy, a number of them still reside on Earth.
Aesir: Like the Jotunn, the Aesir are descendants of the Earth Lord Ymir, who died after creating the two races. A number of the Aesir went to Earth during the strife of the Colonization. Allied with the Elfkind and the Dwarves, they felt safer in Scandinavia after the Jotunn and the Fomorians forced so many of them from the Otherworld. The Aesir possess extreme physical strength and are some of the greatest warrior alive.
Spirits: The spirits are the remnants of those who have died. Ghosts are the lowest form of these, and have nearly no power. They struggle to speak to the living and even more so to appear to them. Poltergeists are spirits that vary in power. The stronger ones can very easily move objects, speak and appear to the living, harm, and even possess them at times; however, they cannot kill. Wraiths are very powerful, vengeful spirits that have the power to kill. Similar to Wraiths are the Banshees, female spirits whose screams can kill.
Earth Lords: Their origin is a mystery, and their power unfathomable. Nothing is known of them, and very few of them have every been seen. The oldest and most powerful of these ancient beings is Coatlicue, their mother. Though another powerful Earth Lord is the goddess Tlaltecuhtli, who is a massive sea monster. Another known Earth Lord is the indestructible Leviathan, which sleeps deep beneath the Pacific Ocean, for he is too large to fit anywhere else. Chernobog, the Black God, rests somewhere in the mountains of Russia. And Typhon is locked under Mt. Etna. The Revolving Beast haunts the islands around Ireland. The "Bogeyman" dwells within nightmares during his sleep. According to ancient Otherworld Lore, these beings once lived there, though they left while the Old Kind were still young.(NOT a Playable Race! The Earth Lords are FAR Too Powerful!)
The Horsemen: Also called "The Riders". The Horsemen are beings that symbolize the forces of the universe, and are supposedly all powerful. Death, Destiny, Justice, End, and Beginning. Usually they are seen separately. They have only been together seen three times by the Otherworld races. The first time was when Ymir the Earth Lord died. The second was during the mass migration during the Colonization. And the third time was when the blood moon rose for the first and final time.(NOT Playable Beings! There Are Only Five, and They ARE All-Powerful and Self-Existent!)
Humans: The youngest of all the races, and the weakest in many aspects. Humans never even had a chance to expand and grow for a long time after the Colonization began. And even then, they lived in the shadow of races that they perceived as gods and monsters for a very long time. Very few humans know the truth about the Otherworld races. Some humans have had dealings with them. Cuchulainn, Joan of Arc, and Perseus to name a few. Many of the Otherworld have wondered what humans have to offer, or when they will prove their worth.
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Character Sheet
Name:
Aliases/Nicknames:
Gender:
Race:(If Tuatha De, specify whether you are Faerie or Pixie)
Court:(For Faeries Only)
Age(Actual/Apparent):
Description:(Written is mandatory, but pictures are allowed)
Sexual Orientation:
Height:
Weight:
Family:(Living or Deceased)
Friends:
Intelligence:
Sense of Humor:
Spouse/Lover(s):
Marks/Scars/Tattoos/Physical Handicap:
Weapons/Items:
History:
This woke the Earth Lords.
Very few of them were taken from their slumber, but those that moved made the powerful races of the Otherworld tremble in fear. Many of the first races to cross over banded together to defeat these few Earth Lords, mainly by forcing them back into their sleep. But the threat of these beings never faded. The Otherworld races warred for thousands of years over lands on Earth, the longest of which was the infamous Faerie-Pixie war, which reached from Ireland, past Greece, briefly into Scandinavia, and into Russia at its height. The second most famous was the Titanomachy in Greece. The Faerie-Pixie War, otherwise known as the Tuatha De Civil War, roused Chernobog from his sleep; and the Titan War woke the invincible Typhon. Both of which were dealt with. Chernobog was forced back to sleep, and Typhon was imprisoned. Eventually, the rise of the human race forced the Otherworld races into hiding.
As time passed, the Wall began to grow thicker during different seasons. But, on Samhain, or All-Hallows-Eve, the Wall returned to how it once was thousands of years ago for that single night. This was also the night that the Otherworld races become most powerful in both worlds; and was also when the Earth Lords' sleep grew lightest.
The Otherworld races faded to myth, but a few of these beings that resembled humans - such as Scathach and Aoife - began to live amongst the mortal race. They shaped folklore, legends, and even science by intermingling with humans. They, in turn, began to feel closer to the young race than to their own kind. They learned to ignore the hidden wars and rivalries all over the world, some of which threatened to destroy all of that the humans had built.
What nobody expected was for Samhain to come eternally.
Heralded by a terrible sight of the Horsemen riding as one, the sky grew dark, and a blood moon rose one night, never to set again one All-Hallows-Eve. Humans were confused and frightened by this new development. And the Otherworld races that had been scorned during the Colonization saw this as a chance at revenge. But slowly, one-by-one, the Earth Lords are now threatening to wake. This is Earth's darkest hour, become unending.
((The RP will start the morning of Halloween, not when the Horsemen ride.))
____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Races/Beings
Old Kind: The Old Kind are the first vampires, and the oldest and most powerful of the Otherworld races. It is an unspoken rule to never ask their origin. It is theorized that this is caused by their own lack of knowledge regarding their beginning. Unlike their watered down descendants, the Old Kind are not weak to sunlight, garlic, crucifixes, or holy water, and have reflections. The only way to Kill an Old Kind is by an accurate hit to the heart, or by severing their head. Though, to do either you have to get close, and that may just be the last thing you ever do. However, there are rare cases where an Old Kind lives after their head has been severed. This is extremely rare. In such cases, the head simply need to placed back onto the neck. No matter how decayed it is, the head will reattach, and the head will return to its original state.
Skinwalkers: The Were-Kind tribes are the ancestors of the Lycans. The tribes are divided, and each can turn into a certain animal. Be it bear, wolf, lion, bird, boar, or tiger. They could turn into anything, and are not ruled by the moon, as the Lycans are.
Tuatha De Danann: Descendants of Nemed and Danu, the Tuatha De are not one of the oldest races in the Otherworld, but at one point they were one of the greatest superpowers. Forced to Earth after a series of grueling defeats in the Otherworld War, half of their race passed through the Wall in their mighty fleet of steel ships, hidden by a magically conjured fog. They claimed Ireland from the Fir Bolg in the First Battle of Magh Tuiredh, led by their king Nuada. And in the Second Battle of Magh Tuiredh they faced the bulk of the Fomorian army. Though Nuada was killed, they succeeded in defeating the Fomorians, ending their reign as a major power in the Otherworld, and any chance of them obtaining such a status on Earth. The race was originally split into two courts: The political and radical Faerie Court, and the militaristic and conservative Pixie Court. The Pixie Court was based in England, and the Faerie Court in Ireland. The Faerie Court split from the Pixie Court, and when the Pixies tried to regain Ireland it sparked a war that lasted for thousands of years, outdating the Titanomachy, and even waking the terrible Black God, Chernobog. The war eventually ended when the Pixie army, also called the Grand Army of the Aos Si, defeated the Faeries at the River Parrett, forcing them back to Ireland forever. The Faeries eventually split into two Courts: The Seelie, or Holy, Court; and the Unseelie, Unholy, Court. The Faeries and the Pixies are still ultimately ruled by Nemed and Danu, who reign over the Tuatha De still living in the Otherworld. They do not, however, have wings and are not tiny.
Elfkind: The Elven Tribes are one of the Oldest races in the Otherworld, and have always been one of the most powerful. They are split into two races: The Liosalfa, the Light Elves, and the Svartalfa, the Dark Elves. The two sides have always lived in a sort of harmony, though never completely. They claimed Scandinavia as their land, along with the Dwarves, the Aesir, and the Jotunn. During the Faerie-Pixie War, they helped the Pixies force the Faeries out of Scandinavia. The Svartalfa are master blacksmiths, and the Liosalfa brilliant politicians. Both sides, however, are near unrivaled warriors.
Titans: The ancient Titans once ruled Greece before being overthrown by the Olympians. Along with the Old Kind, the Elfkind, the Aesir, the Jotunn, and the Fomorians, the Titans are one of the oldest races in the Otherworld. They are beings of great strength and tremendous elemental power. Though they have been mostly restricted to the Otherworld since the Titanomachy, a number of them still reside on Earth.
Aesir: Like the Jotunn, the Aesir are descendants of the Earth Lord Ymir, who died after creating the two races. A number of the Aesir went to Earth during the strife of the Colonization. Allied with the Elfkind and the Dwarves, they felt safer in Scandinavia after the Jotunn and the Fomorians forced so many of them from the Otherworld. The Aesir possess extreme physical strength and are some of the greatest warrior alive.
Spirits: The spirits are the remnants of those who have died. Ghosts are the lowest form of these, and have nearly no power. They struggle to speak to the living and even more so to appear to them. Poltergeists are spirits that vary in power. The stronger ones can very easily move objects, speak and appear to the living, harm, and even possess them at times; however, they cannot kill. Wraiths are very powerful, vengeful spirits that have the power to kill. Similar to Wraiths are the Banshees, female spirits whose screams can kill.
Earth Lords: Their origin is a mystery, and their power unfathomable. Nothing is known of them, and very few of them have every been seen. The oldest and most powerful of these ancient beings is Coatlicue, their mother. Though another powerful Earth Lord is the goddess Tlaltecuhtli, who is a massive sea monster. Another known Earth Lord is the indestructible Leviathan, which sleeps deep beneath the Pacific Ocean, for he is too large to fit anywhere else. Chernobog, the Black God, rests somewhere in the mountains of Russia. And Typhon is locked under Mt. Etna. The Revolving Beast haunts the islands around Ireland. The "Bogeyman" dwells within nightmares during his sleep. According to ancient Otherworld Lore, these beings once lived there, though they left while the Old Kind were still young.(NOT a Playable Race! The Earth Lords are FAR Too Powerful!)
The Horsemen: Also called "The Riders". The Horsemen are beings that symbolize the forces of the universe, and are supposedly all powerful. Death, Destiny, Justice, End, and Beginning. Usually they are seen separately. They have only been together seen three times by the Otherworld races. The first time was when Ymir the Earth Lord died. The second was during the mass migration during the Colonization. And the third time was when the blood moon rose for the first and final time.(NOT Playable Beings! There Are Only Five, and They ARE All-Powerful and Self-Existent!)
Humans: The youngest of all the races, and the weakest in many aspects. Humans never even had a chance to expand and grow for a long time after the Colonization began. And even then, they lived in the shadow of races that they perceived as gods and monsters for a very long time. Very few humans know the truth about the Otherworld races. Some humans have had dealings with them. Cuchulainn, Joan of Arc, and Perseus to name a few. Many of the Otherworld have wondered what humans have to offer, or when they will prove their worth.
____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Character Sheet
Name:
Aliases/Nicknames:
Gender:
Race:(If Tuatha De, specify whether you are Faerie or Pixie)
Court:(For Faeries Only)
Age(Actual/Apparent):
Description:(Written is mandatory, but pictures are allowed)
Sexual Orientation:
Height:
Weight:
Family:(Living or Deceased)
Friends:
Intelligence:
Sense of Humor:
Spouse/Lover(s):
Marks/Scars/Tattoos/Physical Handicap:
Weapons/Items:
History:
Rules
1.)This should be expected: NO GODMODDING. You will be culled!
2.)Don't be a meta.(For those unfamiliar with this term, this means don't "magically" let your character know everything about all other characters! It tends to spoil the plot.)
3.)Try to keep cursing to a minimum, but if you must at least make it tasteful.(Paradox, anyone?)
4.)Try and limit OOC to the OOC board, but if you feel you must do so in a post, please use (()).
5.)No technology used can be more advanced than moder day technology.
6.)Please do not ignore another's post.
7.)Try not to keep people in the dark about personal plots. That doesn't mean spew(don't spoil it), just let us know if you've got SOMETHING going on.
8.)Try and makes posts at least one paragraph long!
2.)Don't be a meta.(For those unfamiliar with this term, this means don't "magically" let your character know everything about all other characters! It tends to spoil the plot.)
3.)Try to keep cursing to a minimum, but if you must at least make it tasteful.(Paradox, anyone?)
4.)Try and limit OOC to the OOC board, but if you feel you must do so in a post, please use (()).
5.)No technology used can be more advanced than moder day technology.
6.)Please do not ignore another's post.
7.)Try not to keep people in the dark about personal plots. That doesn't mean spew(don't spoil it), just let us know if you've got SOMETHING going on.
8.)Try and makes posts at least one paragraph long!
Reviews
26/30
Characterization: Advanced
Plot: Advanced
Depth: Proficient
Style: Advanced
Mechanics: Proficient
Overall: Advanced
Script wrote:
View All »Characters
Jack-o'-Lantern played by The Adversary
For you see, an ethereal being stole my head. And I would rather like it back!
Sophia Adams played by Kohananinja
Bookwormish blonde grad student, who's life is about to get a lot more complicated, irreversably so.
Morohtar Barrurdan played by MadHatter
An ancient Lich from before the Colonization, A dark spirit left over from a forgotten time.
Aurelian Roche played by Duchessa
The Chained Duke, an ancient Old Kind recently freed from his prison.
Kerrigan Arkh played by The Adversary
A vicious, savage killer. So infamous is his bloodlust, that he is scorned by his own kind. His mark has been made in both Earth, and the Otherworld.
Bard??n Dubh played by GreyThespian
I'm known as ghostly, or frightening, a demon to run from. But the only thing I chase, is the arts! I am a poet before I am anything, and words shall outlast our flesh...
The Horsemen played by The Adversary
The five Riders are physical manifestations of the universe. Self-existent and all powerful, all events happen according to their will.
Earth Lords played by The Adversary
These beings are ancient, and their origins unknown. Though capable of death, never has one been killed. (will be added to)
Visit »The Orphanage
These poor, unfortunate souls were once a part of this great world, but have been abandoned. Why don't you consider viewing their profiles and making a decision on whether or not you can roleplay them accurately?
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Places in Hallowed Eve: The Eternal Hallowe'en
8 postsEarth
The home of the human race, and the resting place of the terrible Earth Lords.
1 postsOtherworld
The home of the races of myth, and once-home of the Earth Lords.
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OOC Notes
What the future holds was always in their hands. They who spun the fabric of time and reality and set it upon the shoulders of the first, giving them reign. They have always known, and always will know, what is to come. Because they are the ones who made it so . . .
The first in Ireland. The Rider with a wicked scythe looked out over the ocean below from atop a cliff. The pale horse it sat upon shook its head and snorted, its black hair tossing in the wind and from the movement. The Rider's ragged black hood was pulled low over its head, and its free, skeletal left hand let the reigns fall and rested upon the horse's neck. The animal stilled and it's eyes looked out over the sea.
The second in Egypt. The Rider of Destiny held the reigns with both black hands, which ended with wicked claws. His black horse was slowly walking a wide circle around the Great Pyramid, tracing the pattern in which the Earth Lord Apophis was coiled around the structure, resting deep beneath the sea of sand.
The third in Russia. The Rider of Justice's hooded head turned slowly, unseen eyes looking down at the lake of mountain spirits, beneath the western Sayan, Ergaki Mountains. The Rider could feel Chernobog's presence beneath him, just as the Black God could most certainly feel the Rider's - even in his sleep. The hilt of a sword poked out from under the many folds of his robe, which tumbled down over the saddle he sat upon.
The fourth in America. The Rider of the End moved silently upon his brown steed, which was partially armored. Gnarled trees and roots moved out of his way as his horse trotted silently out of the brush and onto the beach of one of the Apostle Islands. Twisting its head, it observed Lake Superior, which had been so loved by, and home to, old Native American tribes. Great lynxes and horned serpents lived in those waters. Bakaak, the flying skeletones; and Wendigo, powerful cannibalistic spirits, haunted the skies and forests.
The fifth, and final, in China. The Rider of the Beginning - the first of most powerful of the Horsemen - moved unseen deep within the wilds of China. The Earth Lord Pangu had died to give this land life, which was one other time that the five rode as one, but only in Earth and not in the Otherworld. His massive horse was a mix of silver and black, adorned with silver armor. A black sheath hung from his cloth sash, clashing with the golden hilt of his sword.
Their five points taken, formed a massive pentagram across the planet. They were ready. Now, they had only to wait.
The first in Ireland. The Rider with a wicked scythe looked out over the ocean below from atop a cliff. The pale horse it sat upon shook its head and snorted, its black hair tossing in the wind and from the movement. The Rider's ragged black hood was pulled low over its head, and its free, skeletal left hand let the reigns fall and rested upon the horse's neck. The animal stilled and it's eyes looked out over the sea.
The second in Egypt. The Rider of Destiny held the reigns with both black hands, which ended with wicked claws. His black horse was slowly walking a wide circle around the Great Pyramid, tracing the pattern in which the Earth Lord Apophis was coiled around the structure, resting deep beneath the sea of sand.
The third in Russia. The Rider of Justice's hooded head turned slowly, unseen eyes looking down at the lake of mountain spirits, beneath the western Sayan, Ergaki Mountains. The Rider could feel Chernobog's presence beneath him, just as the Black God could most certainly feel the Rider's - even in his sleep. The hilt of a sword poked out from under the many folds of his robe, which tumbled down over the saddle he sat upon.
The fourth in America. The Rider of the End moved silently upon his brown steed, which was partially armored. Gnarled trees and roots moved out of his way as his horse trotted silently out of the brush and onto the beach of one of the Apostle Islands. Twisting its head, it observed Lake Superior, which had been so loved by, and home to, old Native American tribes. Great lynxes and horned serpents lived in those waters. Bakaak, the flying skeletones; and Wendigo, powerful cannibalistic spirits, haunted the skies and forests.
The fifth, and final, in China. The Rider of the Beginning - the first of most powerful of the Horsemen - moved unseen deep within the wilds of China. The Earth Lord Pangu had died to give this land life, which was one other time that the five rode as one, but only in Earth and not in the Otherworld. His massive horse was a mix of silver and black, adorned with silver armor. A black sheath hung from his cloth sash, clashing with the golden hilt of his sword.
Their five points taken, formed a massive pentagram across the planet. They were ready. Now, they had only to wait.
OOC Notes
In his castle, Morohtar Barrurdan sat upon his dark throne, gazing into the cursed waters of the scrying pool. The pool's dark magic could reveal what has been, what is, and what may be. The red, swirling waters of the pool began to shift under the King of Shadow's gaze, contorting into ghostly images. They began to reveal many things to Morohtar: a planet being formed, the birth of a child, the life of a man, the death of a king, and the fall of a nation. The cursed waters showed him many things, some trivial, some great. The images began to change rapidly, flashing through millenias of visions, to fast for any being to comprehend. Then, the red waters turned black. Morohtar could faintly hear the galloping of horses, and a blood moon hung over a hilltop, a burning village below. The waters shifted again, revealing a black door. The door began to rattle, twisting and warping out of shape. The door flew open, and the screams of thousands could be heard, while bloody light spilled through the shattered doorway. Suddenly, the magic was broken, and the pool became a smooth, calm surface.
Morohtar leaned back, having witnessed the dark visions in the pool. The pool's prophecy could only mean one thing: The Wall was close to breaking, and the Otherworld and Earth would merge. Which would lead to catastrophe. "Interesting. Very interesting." Morohtar stood and began to walk away from his throne.
Morohtar leaned back, having witnessed the dark visions in the pool. The pool's prophecy could only mean one thing: The Wall was close to breaking, and the Otherworld and Earth would merge. Which would lead to catastrophe. "Interesting. Very interesting." Morohtar stood and began to walk away from his throne.
OOC Notes
Neoxis lay on his bed draped in black and lavender silks, staring upward at the ceiling. In his left hand, he held a small glass sphere; a noticeably magical artifact apparent by the purple swirling energy visible within. He raised the sphere up so that it were in his line of vision. He stared into it intently.
"Gah" he exclaimed, throwing the sphere across the room. "This stupid thing doesn't work."
The door to the dim candlelit room burst open, a tall, slender woman with long, black hair and bright blue eyes that emanate with magic standing before the vampire lord.
Neoxis looked over at the pale woman standing before him. "There you are, Hecate. What have you found out?"
"The blood moon rises, my lord."
"I'm not really sure what that means." he responded.
"It doesn't mean well, my lord. That's for certain."
"Can you be a little more specific please?"
"It is to my understanding that the veil is weak, and growing weaker, my lord."
"Is that so?" Neoxis's curiosity was piqued; he sat upright on the bed, leaning in toward Hecate with curiosity. "Do you know what this means?"
"Of course, my lord. ....Well, actually, no, my lord."
Neoxis looked upon Hecate with a condescending expression. "It means, we'll finally be able to get back to the mortal world, you dolt."
"Ah, of course my lord ...."
"Pack up my best spell books, I'm heading down to the dungeon to gather my things. I suggest you do the same... we're going on vacation." Neoxis explained, his mouth forming into a large, sinister grin.
"Gah" he exclaimed, throwing the sphere across the room. "This stupid thing doesn't work."
The door to the dim candlelit room burst open, a tall, slender woman with long, black hair and bright blue eyes that emanate with magic standing before the vampire lord.
Neoxis looked over at the pale woman standing before him. "There you are, Hecate. What have you found out?"
"The blood moon rises, my lord."
"I'm not really sure what that means." he responded.
"It doesn't mean well, my lord. That's for certain."
"Can you be a little more specific please?"
"It is to my understanding that the veil is weak, and growing weaker, my lord."
"Is that so?" Neoxis's curiosity was piqued; he sat upright on the bed, leaning in toward Hecate with curiosity. "Do you know what this means?"
"Of course, my lord. ....Well, actually, no, my lord."
Neoxis looked upon Hecate with a condescending expression. "It means, we'll finally be able to get back to the mortal world, you dolt."
"Ah, of course my lord ...."
"Pack up my best spell books, I'm heading down to the dungeon to gather my things. I suggest you do the same... we're going on vacation." Neoxis explained, his mouth forming into a large, sinister grin.
OOC Notes
On a counter there lays a marble, around the counter is a group of friends, on the counter there is a mystical divining rod, above it? A poltergeist. Robert wasn't there because they'd called him, he'd actually been there for awhile. Harvesting their emotions, stealing trinkets to sell when he went back to the otherworld and generally trying not to be too obtrusive of a nuisance there ( There's a selkie in the underworld that loves those little troll dolls). He knew the blood moon was coming, he could feel it in his metaphysical bones. These kids had no idea what they were getting in to, fortunately he was here to help make things a little worse for the invader.
"Alright Jess, are-are you ready?"
"Of course I'm ready you dolt, just fire up the incense."
The room was filled with the heady scent of burning herbs. Another voice spoke up and Jess shot it down with a snide comment. "Okay, we're trying to summon the ghost of Nikola Tesla so did you get the tech scraps?" The sound of a bag being emptied and then silence. Then the room began to shake.
"J-j-JESS."
"I SAID SHUT UP." She snarled and he did, she was almost as controlling as his princess had been. Then the mist came, pouring from the two tips of the divining rod and the scared kid let out a whimper, Jess didn't snap at him this time, she was shaking and muttering in Tongues that were probably fake while the mist coalesced above her. Then Robert nudged his finger and the marble went through the rod like a twig, trapping the emerging spirit, who was starting to look a bit more demonic and scale like than Nikola Tesla had ever been, between the worlds and crushing it. "What...what..." Jess looked around for the ghost.
"I knew you were full of it."
"No, no, YOU SAW THE ROOM SHAKING AND YOU SAW THE MIST."
Thankfully her pleas went unheeded and Robert knew that the world was safe once again. The blood moon was coming though, he wouldn't be able to do this for all of humanity once the real shit hit the fan. He took the marble back anyway, as a memento.
"Alright Jess, are-are you ready?"
"Of course I'm ready you dolt, just fire up the incense."
The room was filled with the heady scent of burning herbs. Another voice spoke up and Jess shot it down with a snide comment. "Okay, we're trying to summon the ghost of Nikola Tesla so did you get the tech scraps?" The sound of a bag being emptied and then silence. Then the room began to shake.
"J-j-JESS."
"I SAID SHUT UP." She snarled and he did, she was almost as controlling as his princess had been. Then the mist came, pouring from the two tips of the divining rod and the scared kid let out a whimper, Jess didn't snap at him this time, she was shaking and muttering in Tongues that were probably fake while the mist coalesced above her. Then Robert nudged his finger and the marble went through the rod like a twig, trapping the emerging spirit, who was starting to look a bit more demonic and scale like than Nikola Tesla had ever been, between the worlds and crushing it. "What...what..." Jess looked around for the ghost.
"I knew you were full of it."
"No, no, YOU SAW THE ROOM SHAKING AND YOU SAW THE MIST."
Thankfully her pleas went unheeded and Robert knew that the world was safe once again. The blood moon was coming though, he wouldn't be able to do this for all of humanity once the real shit hit the fan. He took the marble back anyway, as a memento.
OOC Notes
“The books on the Napoleonic Wars are over on that shelf.” Sophie instructed an older balding gentleman who had come into the Museum’s rather large and extensive book store. To be honest, it was probably the most extensive historical book store in London, with everything from early mythology and it’s origins from the Celts, to Greece, to China, to the most modern political speculation on the American War in Afghanistan. There were even some copies of ancient tomes, and…a few real ones in the back vault that were still being examined by the professor and the curator. Today however, was Halloween, and the museum’s biggest crowd was drawn for the yearly Samhain festival re-enactment on the third floor, and once finished, their thoughts were of similar such books. She had been selling out books on Halloween’s history, ancient Celtic mythology, and Samhain Rituals all morning.
Oh well, when business in the shop did well, so did her meagre intern pay check, and a grad student of her calibre was a penny pincher to begin with. At least none of those weird costume people she’d seen on the street this morning ad come into the shop. Dressing up for Halloween was one thing at a party, but in broad daylight, and not on kids but full grown adults, it just seemed odd. Perhaps there was some city wise costume contest she hadn’t heard about (Sophie wasn’t exactly a metropolitan social butterfly) and it was simply some harmless good fun. Either way, it would be over tomorrow, and her life would be back in order, normal once again.
Oh well, when business in the shop did well, so did her meagre intern pay check, and a grad student of her calibre was a penny pincher to begin with. At least none of those weird costume people she’d seen on the street this morning ad come into the shop. Dressing up for Halloween was one thing at a party, but in broad daylight, and not on kids but full grown adults, it just seemed odd. Perhaps there was some city wise costume contest she hadn’t heard about (Sophie wasn’t exactly a metropolitan social butterfly) and it was simply some harmless good fun. Either way, it would be over tomorrow, and her life would be back in order, normal once again.
OOC Notes
Keep Ephemeris normally stood at the edge of the Old Kind home dominion, a forest of towers and domes, buttresses and bartizans, apses and colonnades leading off into the far distance, the base of the First Army of the Old Kind, their most dependable and defensible citadel, whose rooms shifted and twisted in a regular pattern for those who knew it, spires and corridors vanishing and appearing in a complex, twisting pattern.
The Fourth Detail was currently on-guard in the Keep, ever-vigilant for anything out-of-the-ordinary, anything which might threaten the rich cities further in, the plumply self-satisfied Dominion of the Old Kind, greatest of the Otherworld powers.
It was safe, it was secure, a bulwark to be directed to wherever the Old Kind needed it most, bolstering any line of defence that showed any sign of failing. It could – and often did - house an army and transport them across the Otherworld in the blink of an eye – although of late, the last few hundred years, that had been getting slower and slower, and less and less reliable.
It was as if whatever powered Keep Ephemeris – not that anyone knew what that was; oh, there were a few legends, some sort of creature in the depths of the fortress, but in all their ages of habitation of the Keep, nothing even remotely similar to such a thing had ever been found – and there had been many searches – by military personnel as well as the seekers, hunting for more knowledge in the Keep’s libraries and hidden caches.
But then again, they were still finding things, even now, forcing Keep Ephemeris to give up its secrets one at a time – usually with a great loss of life. The polished corridors of the great stronghold had all been liberally watered with blood at one point or another – the citadel was not kind to anyone who had a laissez-faire attitude to it.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
[Otherworld, Sunset Isles, Keep Ephemeris, Sarcerium Depths]
A soaring hall, in the bony High Old-Kind style, pale arches of buttresses and daggered towers flying through the still air, had been chosen as the prison site. It was deep in the bowels of the Keep, very possibly the first part of it to be formed, the nucleus around which all the rest of the citadel had been built, coating and covering it completely, a forgotten dead space in the unexplored, unlit depths.
The halls were dead for miles around it, empty and cold white marble. Carved frescoes ran around the room, still and silent figures locked in a single position. Metal winked, coldly, in the faint lights – this part of the Keep had been all but disconnected from the rest of it, isolated and locked away, only a few of the chilly lights remained to cast any form of light in the vaulting chamber.
It looked like it had been the site of a titanic struggle – some of the niches in the walls were full of blackened debris, clusters of pillars had been smashed to dust and a great staircase, a masterpiece of marble and filigree, festooned with statuary and glittering palely had been blasted apart, its once-elegant stones tumbled and shattered, the grand hallway it formerly led to full of broken slabs of masonry, tons upon tons of it.
Truly, though – had anyone been there, the eye would have been drawn to the torturous spire of stone in the centre of the chamber, a clambering maelstrom of scrabbling, fantastical figures. Wings burst out at irregular angles, in mid-flight, stony tentacles writhed and stabbed, forever halted at the instant of their plunge, and somewhere in the storm of limb and fantastical beast the occasional stone knight and swordsman flashed dully in the light.
Great chains, of a bluish, glittering hue that hurt the eyes and brought blurring tears, stretched from every corner of the room, their links as thick as ten men, hanging in the crepuscular twilight. Great staples had been driven into the rock, anchoring one end of the prison chains, while the other led tautly into the centre of the stony chaos – or should have done.
Now, they were slack, the links bent and broken, discoloured, a scabrous purple and red hue, warped as if they’d encountered a terrible heat or some other tremendous force.
It took a lot, to break chains forged to hold an Earth Lord; and now they hung in ragged streamers and tatters across the prison-hall of Keep Ephemeris.
Nothing happened for a time, but then the hall was thrown into harsh light and shadow, high and unforgiving relief by brilliant violet light which snapped and raced from inside the struggling pillar.
A loud report, like a gunshot, a cascade of fat, crawling purple sparks, and a small section of the pillar’s base exploded outwards, scattering wailing chips of stone into the silence. They clattered into oblivion in the shadows of the hall, and as the dust of ages settled, the master of Keep Ephemeris took his first steps in millennia – confused, somewhat, in a towering rage, and hungry.
He was vastly changed from the portraits of him at the height of his power. He was still short, but his already sylph-like figure had constricted further about his bones, until he was little more than a sack of skin stretched taut. His hair was the colour and approximate texture of dry straw, brittle and lifeless, and his finery was ripped and torn.
His eyes were completely dark, a deep and violent stormy purple, and his lips were bloodless, skinned back from thin and deadly fangs that gleamed white in the dim lights.
Strange machinery glowed and sputtered beneath his war-torn, stained clothes, flickering and dying as his will overrode their purpose, no longer bolstered by the chains.
The master of binding and breaking magic, the lord of Keep Ephemeris and the Sunset Isles, held prisoner for untold ages, was again free to walk the world – and wreak his vengeance on his captors.
Starting with the purging of his home of its vermin infestation on the upper floors.
Of course, in his current state, starved of any nourishment, he didn’t reason this far; all he knew, little better than an animal – a powerful, unpredictable animal, to be sure, but still an animal – was that above, far above, was food. Lots of food. Powerful food.
Obedient to his commands, even in such a state, Keep Ephemeris shuddered and shifted, happy to have its master return after so long.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
[Otherworld, Sunset Isles, Keep Ephemeris, Subterrane Barracks]
The Chained Duke’s first meal was an unwary young Old Kind on his way to bed. The changes he’d enacted to free himself from the confines of the Sarcerium hall were minor, and had not really affected the upper levels of his fortress. Thus, none of the contingent of the First Army had noticed anything awry with their base.
Watching and waiting from a hidden corner, he pounced like a hunting-hound, mouth open inhumanly wide, razored fangs sliding deep into the guardsman’s throat, sending his life essence gushing into a parched and needy body with only a half-smothered scream to raise any alarm.
No such clamour was forthcoming, and the prisoner looked marginally more alive, more there, as though the life he’d drained had filled only a tiny corner of a gaping void.
‘More...’ that was the only thought which squirrelcaged around inside his cranium, that and the deep, thumping thirst of years without a single sip of nourishment and many calls on his imprisoned powers.
One of the staircases, far above, vanished from the spot in the ordered progression it had occupied ever since the Duke was imprisoned, and appeared at his feet, leading him upwards, to more life and food.
His second meal was a room full of recruits, new-come to the strange citadel and still learning its ways, not knowing that the grinding of the changes wasn’t normal for this time; the Chained Duke fell upon them voraciously, a blur with teeth like knives and a strength born of desperation and pure, visceral hunger.
Aurelian rose from his crouch in the middle of the wreckage and examined his shaking, trembling hands with something akin to wonder. He wiped his mouth fastidiously, and smiled a slow, self-satisfied smile. Thought, coherent thought, was returning to his shattered mind as his hunger lessened. “Well now,” he said, and his rich voice echoed around the little feeding room. “I’m back.”
Purple fire gathered in his hands, haloed his head and shattered the walls into jigsaw-pieces of rubble, and calling to his Keep and all its secrets, warping it heavily to his will, trapping the contingent of the First Army inside, to be disposed of at his leisure.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
[Otherworld, Sunset Isles, Keep Ephemeris, Prime Movement Chamber]
Aurelian wiped a splash of blood from his cheek and rested one hand companionably on the shattered helm of Keep Ephemeris’ erstwhile commander, cut to pieces by his own subordinates.
Aurelian permitted himself a small smile. Being master of binding magic had its uses, and now Keep Ephemeris was truly his again. He’d not killed all of the First’s contingent – they’d do nicely as emergency rations, if necessary – he’d had the Keep seal them in whatever section they happened to be in, to be dealt with – or not – at his leisure. They’d plundered a worrying number of his secrets over the long years, but there were still plenty more left.
The Chained Duke relaxed back into one of the comfortable chairs in the baroque Prime Movement Chamber, a tower-eyrie chamber constructed entirely of planar glass, able – with the help of magic and Otherworld machinery, to pierce the bounds of probability, make leaps across miles and dimensions in the blink of an eye.
A map of the entire Keep, and the surrounding Sunset Isles, drawn in Aurelian’s purple fire, shimmered in a deep pit; from here, every aspect of its anatomy could be controlled, conducted, like the music-master commanding his orchestra.
But here – the Otherworld – that was not his goal. Though it rankled, though his heart burned with fury at what had been done to him, he had not the strength nor the numbers to assail the Dominions, and he was still unbearably hungry.
He needed somewhere to feast, and feast richly, somewhere to build up both himself and his forces, somewhere rich in resources and poor on Old Kind.
Earth.
The Fourth Detail was currently on-guard in the Keep, ever-vigilant for anything out-of-the-ordinary, anything which might threaten the rich cities further in, the plumply self-satisfied Dominion of the Old Kind, greatest of the Otherworld powers.
It was safe, it was secure, a bulwark to be directed to wherever the Old Kind needed it most, bolstering any line of defence that showed any sign of failing. It could – and often did - house an army and transport them across the Otherworld in the blink of an eye – although of late, the last few hundred years, that had been getting slower and slower, and less and less reliable.
It was as if whatever powered Keep Ephemeris – not that anyone knew what that was; oh, there were a few legends, some sort of creature in the depths of the fortress, but in all their ages of habitation of the Keep, nothing even remotely similar to such a thing had ever been found – and there had been many searches – by military personnel as well as the seekers, hunting for more knowledge in the Keep’s libraries and hidden caches.
But then again, they were still finding things, even now, forcing Keep Ephemeris to give up its secrets one at a time – usually with a great loss of life. The polished corridors of the great stronghold had all been liberally watered with blood at one point or another – the citadel was not kind to anyone who had a laissez-faire attitude to it.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
[Otherworld, Sunset Isles, Keep Ephemeris, Sarcerium Depths]
A soaring hall, in the bony High Old-Kind style, pale arches of buttresses and daggered towers flying through the still air, had been chosen as the prison site. It was deep in the bowels of the Keep, very possibly the first part of it to be formed, the nucleus around which all the rest of the citadel had been built, coating and covering it completely, a forgotten dead space in the unexplored, unlit depths.
The halls were dead for miles around it, empty and cold white marble. Carved frescoes ran around the room, still and silent figures locked in a single position. Metal winked, coldly, in the faint lights – this part of the Keep had been all but disconnected from the rest of it, isolated and locked away, only a few of the chilly lights remained to cast any form of light in the vaulting chamber.
It looked like it had been the site of a titanic struggle – some of the niches in the walls were full of blackened debris, clusters of pillars had been smashed to dust and a great staircase, a masterpiece of marble and filigree, festooned with statuary and glittering palely had been blasted apart, its once-elegant stones tumbled and shattered, the grand hallway it formerly led to full of broken slabs of masonry, tons upon tons of it.
Truly, though – had anyone been there, the eye would have been drawn to the torturous spire of stone in the centre of the chamber, a clambering maelstrom of scrabbling, fantastical figures. Wings burst out at irregular angles, in mid-flight, stony tentacles writhed and stabbed, forever halted at the instant of their plunge, and somewhere in the storm of limb and fantastical beast the occasional stone knight and swordsman flashed dully in the light.
Great chains, of a bluish, glittering hue that hurt the eyes and brought blurring tears, stretched from every corner of the room, their links as thick as ten men, hanging in the crepuscular twilight. Great staples had been driven into the rock, anchoring one end of the prison chains, while the other led tautly into the centre of the stony chaos – or should have done.
Now, they were slack, the links bent and broken, discoloured, a scabrous purple and red hue, warped as if they’d encountered a terrible heat or some other tremendous force.
It took a lot, to break chains forged to hold an Earth Lord; and now they hung in ragged streamers and tatters across the prison-hall of Keep Ephemeris.
Nothing happened for a time, but then the hall was thrown into harsh light and shadow, high and unforgiving relief by brilliant violet light which snapped and raced from inside the struggling pillar.
A loud report, like a gunshot, a cascade of fat, crawling purple sparks, and a small section of the pillar’s base exploded outwards, scattering wailing chips of stone into the silence. They clattered into oblivion in the shadows of the hall, and as the dust of ages settled, the master of Keep Ephemeris took his first steps in millennia – confused, somewhat, in a towering rage, and hungry.
He was vastly changed from the portraits of him at the height of his power. He was still short, but his already sylph-like figure had constricted further about his bones, until he was little more than a sack of skin stretched taut. His hair was the colour and approximate texture of dry straw, brittle and lifeless, and his finery was ripped and torn.
His eyes were completely dark, a deep and violent stormy purple, and his lips were bloodless, skinned back from thin and deadly fangs that gleamed white in the dim lights.
Strange machinery glowed and sputtered beneath his war-torn, stained clothes, flickering and dying as his will overrode their purpose, no longer bolstered by the chains.
The master of binding and breaking magic, the lord of Keep Ephemeris and the Sunset Isles, held prisoner for untold ages, was again free to walk the world – and wreak his vengeance on his captors.
Starting with the purging of his home of its vermin infestation on the upper floors.
Of course, in his current state, starved of any nourishment, he didn’t reason this far; all he knew, little better than an animal – a powerful, unpredictable animal, to be sure, but still an animal – was that above, far above, was food. Lots of food. Powerful food.
Obedient to his commands, even in such a state, Keep Ephemeris shuddered and shifted, happy to have its master return after so long.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
[Otherworld, Sunset Isles, Keep Ephemeris, Subterrane Barracks]
The Chained Duke’s first meal was an unwary young Old Kind on his way to bed. The changes he’d enacted to free himself from the confines of the Sarcerium hall were minor, and had not really affected the upper levels of his fortress. Thus, none of the contingent of the First Army had noticed anything awry with their base.
Watching and waiting from a hidden corner, he pounced like a hunting-hound, mouth open inhumanly wide, razored fangs sliding deep into the guardsman’s throat, sending his life essence gushing into a parched and needy body with only a half-smothered scream to raise any alarm.
No such clamour was forthcoming, and the prisoner looked marginally more alive, more there, as though the life he’d drained had filled only a tiny corner of a gaping void.
‘More...’ that was the only thought which squirrelcaged around inside his cranium, that and the deep, thumping thirst of years without a single sip of nourishment and many calls on his imprisoned powers.
One of the staircases, far above, vanished from the spot in the ordered progression it had occupied ever since the Duke was imprisoned, and appeared at his feet, leading him upwards, to more life and food.
His second meal was a room full of recruits, new-come to the strange citadel and still learning its ways, not knowing that the grinding of the changes wasn’t normal for this time; the Chained Duke fell upon them voraciously, a blur with teeth like knives and a strength born of desperation and pure, visceral hunger.
Aurelian rose from his crouch in the middle of the wreckage and examined his shaking, trembling hands with something akin to wonder. He wiped his mouth fastidiously, and smiled a slow, self-satisfied smile. Thought, coherent thought, was returning to his shattered mind as his hunger lessened. “Well now,” he said, and his rich voice echoed around the little feeding room. “I’m back.”
Purple fire gathered in his hands, haloed his head and shattered the walls into jigsaw-pieces of rubble, and calling to his Keep and all its secrets, warping it heavily to his will, trapping the contingent of the First Army inside, to be disposed of at his leisure.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
[Otherworld, Sunset Isles, Keep Ephemeris, Prime Movement Chamber]
Aurelian wiped a splash of blood from his cheek and rested one hand companionably on the shattered helm of Keep Ephemeris’ erstwhile commander, cut to pieces by his own subordinates.
Aurelian permitted himself a small smile. Being master of binding magic had its uses, and now Keep Ephemeris was truly his again. He’d not killed all of the First’s contingent – they’d do nicely as emergency rations, if necessary – he’d had the Keep seal them in whatever section they happened to be in, to be dealt with – or not – at his leisure. They’d plundered a worrying number of his secrets over the long years, but there were still plenty more left.
The Chained Duke relaxed back into one of the comfortable chairs in the baroque Prime Movement Chamber, a tower-eyrie chamber constructed entirely of planar glass, able – with the help of magic and Otherworld machinery, to pierce the bounds of probability, make leaps across miles and dimensions in the blink of an eye.
A map of the entire Keep, and the surrounding Sunset Isles, drawn in Aurelian’s purple fire, shimmered in a deep pit; from here, every aspect of its anatomy could be controlled, conducted, like the music-master commanding his orchestra.
But here – the Otherworld – that was not his goal. Though it rankled, though his heart burned with fury at what had been done to him, he had not the strength nor the numbers to assail the Dominions, and he was still unbearably hungry.
He needed somewhere to feast, and feast richly, somewhere to build up both himself and his forces, somewhere rich in resources and poor on Old Kind.
Earth.
OOC Notes
"Ouch--! Watch it, idiot!"
"Sorry."
"Hey, you--"
"Sorry..." he muttered. Iggy was walking down the streets of London, having bumped into many people as he did so. He wasn't sure why, but his entire body was telling him to move forward--and fast. It was maybe to get away from something...
Just then, a rather fat man slipped in front of him and fell, letting out a curse that Iggy remembered to be quite nasty. The fat man fumbled to his feet, and to Iggy's surprise, grabbed him by the collar and held his face close enough to smell his breath.
"Watch where you're going, 'yeh ruddy lil bastard!" the man spat.
"With all due respect..." Ignitius said, eying nervously around him. People were staring. "I think you were the one who had to watch where he was going. You see, you kind of tripped on my foot and--"
Whoosh. The man aimed a punch to Iggy's head.
Iggy's hand quickly launched itself in front of his face, and with a loud THUD, caught the fat man's fist which would of punched him square across the jaw if he hadn't been quick enough. He let out a breath between his teeth. That was the thing about himself that always scared him. His incredibly quick reflexes, keen eyesight, and awesome strength. It just didn't seem normal. Normal for humans, at the least...
The fat man grunted, trying to twist his hand out of Iggy's grip. But Iggy didn't let go, he just smiled a bit. "Ruddy little bastard, you say?"
"Let go of me!"
"I want to hear a "sorry"."
"LET GO!"
Now the people that had been watching the pair were laughing. During the small fight, they had formed a small circle around them . And they were cheering.
"GOOD GOD, LET GO OF ME, YOU'RE CRUSHING MY HAND!" the man bawled.
With a sigh, Iggy let his pale hand drop, leaving red marks around the fat man's palms. Ouch. He didn't mean to go that far.
The elf cleared his throat. "May you please let go of me, now, sir?"
The crowd laughed and jeered once more. The fat man, clearly embarrassed, gave Iggy's collar another jerky tug and shoved him forward. This time it was Iggy who fell, and to his horror, the cap that he wore toppled off his head.
Iggy, his one eye wide in panic, made a grab for the cap that had covered his oddly pointed ears that he had tried so hard to conceal...
But too late. A group of children dressed as witches and ghosts and monsters bent down to him, and stared. One of them, a small girl dressed as a ghoul, reached over to Iggy and pushed away the strands of hair that had covered the tips of his elf ears.
Iggy, with his fast reactions, quickly slapped away the child's hand and from the cold ground, grabbed his cap and shoved it onto his head, making sure it went well down his ears. He quickly stood up, but the girl stopped him. "Is that part of your costume?" she asked.
He stared down at her. "What...?"
"Your costume, silly!" she replied, as if it was obvious. "It's Halloween! As for me, I'm a ghost."
Her friend, who was dressed as a witch said, "Are you some sort of elf-pirate, sir?"
He flinched at the elf part of her sentence, then hoping to cover up his panic said, "Um...pirate?"
"You're wearing an eyepatch. Though I think you could have done better with your costume. You should of wore one of those big pirate boots...Though the ears are really nice! What did you use-- plastic? Rubber? They're so realistic!"
On the inside, Iggy burst out laughing. What a helpful coincidence!
"Er, yes!" he said. "That's what I am. Now you kids run along before I steal your candy."
The group of children let out pretend shrieks, turned around to push through the crowd, and, finally, were gone.
Iggy let out a relieved sigh. And he thought that he was about to be revealed!
Avoiding any eye contact with anybody, he ducked his head and ran through the group of people around him, thankful that tonight was Halloween, and you could look as weird and odd as you wanted without anybody noticing or caring. He could indeed pass off as an elf-pirate, in fact.
That was the truth. Ignitius was an elf. He told himself that many times. He was an elf disguised as a human, wearing normal every-day clothes and always covering his obviously pointed inhuman ears. He knew that he didn't belong in the human world, but he didn't know where he belonged due to his loss of memory. Oh how he tossed and turned every night before sleeping, struggling to remember even the smallest bit of detail from his past. He had just woken up one night in America with his eye missing, which was the reason why he wore an eyepatch to cover the empty hole in his face. He then traveled to London, knowing that staying in one place for a long time could be dangerous.
And now, now that he was in London, he had no idea what he was going to do next. Maybe find a motel room? Search for food? Or just enjoy the sights of the human world?
Then a few hours passed and he came across a museum. He stopped a while to examine it from the outside. It looked promising, and it would also get him out of the cold. So, with a small downward tug of his cap, Ignitius walked into the British Museum of Natural History.
"Sorry."
"Hey, you--"
"Sorry..." he muttered. Iggy was walking down the streets of London, having bumped into many people as he did so. He wasn't sure why, but his entire body was telling him to move forward--and fast. It was maybe to get away from something...
Just then, a rather fat man slipped in front of him and fell, letting out a curse that Iggy remembered to be quite nasty. The fat man fumbled to his feet, and to Iggy's surprise, grabbed him by the collar and held his face close enough to smell his breath.
"Watch where you're going, 'yeh ruddy lil bastard!" the man spat.
"With all due respect..." Ignitius said, eying nervously around him. People were staring. "I think you were the one who had to watch where he was going. You see, you kind of tripped on my foot and--"
Whoosh. The man aimed a punch to Iggy's head.
Iggy's hand quickly launched itself in front of his face, and with a loud THUD, caught the fat man's fist which would of punched him square across the jaw if he hadn't been quick enough. He let out a breath between his teeth. That was the thing about himself that always scared him. His incredibly quick reflexes, keen eyesight, and awesome strength. It just didn't seem normal. Normal for humans, at the least...
The fat man grunted, trying to twist his hand out of Iggy's grip. But Iggy didn't let go, he just smiled a bit. "Ruddy little bastard, you say?"
"Let go of me!"
"I want to hear a "sorry"."
"LET GO!"
Now the people that had been watching the pair were laughing. During the small fight, they had formed a small circle around them . And they were cheering.
"GOOD GOD, LET GO OF ME, YOU'RE CRUSHING MY HAND!" the man bawled.
With a sigh, Iggy let his pale hand drop, leaving red marks around the fat man's palms. Ouch. He didn't mean to go that far.
The elf cleared his throat. "May you please let go of me, now, sir?"
The crowd laughed and jeered once more. The fat man, clearly embarrassed, gave Iggy's collar another jerky tug and shoved him forward. This time it was Iggy who fell, and to his horror, the cap that he wore toppled off his head.
Iggy, his one eye wide in panic, made a grab for the cap that had covered his oddly pointed ears that he had tried so hard to conceal...
But too late. A group of children dressed as witches and ghosts and monsters bent down to him, and stared. One of them, a small girl dressed as a ghoul, reached over to Iggy and pushed away the strands of hair that had covered the tips of his elf ears.
Iggy, with his fast reactions, quickly slapped away the child's hand and from the cold ground, grabbed his cap and shoved it onto his head, making sure it went well down his ears. He quickly stood up, but the girl stopped him. "Is that part of your costume?" she asked.
He stared down at her. "What...?"
"Your costume, silly!" she replied, as if it was obvious. "It's Halloween! As for me, I'm a ghost."
Her friend, who was dressed as a witch said, "Are you some sort of elf-pirate, sir?"
He flinched at the elf part of her sentence, then hoping to cover up his panic said, "Um...pirate?"
"You're wearing an eyepatch. Though I think you could have done better with your costume. You should of wore one of those big pirate boots...Though the ears are really nice! What did you use-- plastic? Rubber? They're so realistic!"
On the inside, Iggy burst out laughing. What a helpful coincidence!
"Er, yes!" he said. "That's what I am. Now you kids run along before I steal your candy."
The group of children let out pretend shrieks, turned around to push through the crowd, and, finally, were gone.
Iggy let out a relieved sigh. And he thought that he was about to be revealed!
Avoiding any eye contact with anybody, he ducked his head and ran through the group of people around him, thankful that tonight was Halloween, and you could look as weird and odd as you wanted without anybody noticing or caring. He could indeed pass off as an elf-pirate, in fact.
That was the truth. Ignitius was an elf. He told himself that many times. He was an elf disguised as a human, wearing normal every-day clothes and always covering his obviously pointed inhuman ears. He knew that he didn't belong in the human world, but he didn't know where he belonged due to his loss of memory. Oh how he tossed and turned every night before sleeping, struggling to remember even the smallest bit of detail from his past. He had just woken up one night in America with his eye missing, which was the reason why he wore an eyepatch to cover the empty hole in his face. He then traveled to London, knowing that staying in one place for a long time could be dangerous.
And now, now that he was in London, he had no idea what he was going to do next. Maybe find a motel room? Search for food? Or just enjoy the sights of the human world?
Then a few hours passed and he came across a museum. He stopped a while to examine it from the outside. It looked promising, and it would also get him out of the cold. So, with a small downward tug of his cap, Ignitius walked into the British Museum of Natural History.
OOC Notes
He had spent years searching the Earth for the resting places of the great Earth Lords. He had found very few. Apophis, Chernobog, Cernunnos, Dagon . . . those were only four of the ones he had located. He still was not satisfied. Not until he found . . .
The forest was a quiet one. Deceptive and tricky. It seemed small on the outside, but once you entered it it began to grow. The deeper you went, the thicker it became. The more it seemed like you were entering another world. In a way, you were. You were moving further and further into the territory of one of the most powerful of all the Earth Lords: Tammuz, the Green Man. Though he slept, the world bloomed with life from his power. Ancient forests such as this were areas kept sacred even whilst humans laid waste to the natural world beyond.
Cernunnos and Tammuz would wreak havoc upon the humans for the way they treated the Earth, should either ever wake.
This deep part of the forest was home to Dryads and Hamadryads, the forest Nymphs. But, for the past three months, it had been home to something else, too. A young Dryad - meaning only around eighty to one hundred years old - found him one day, just sitting amidst thick, black, tangled roots. Legs crossed, eyes closed, and hands resting loosely on his knees. He stayed that way for three whole months. Though he may have been there longer, she had no way of knowing. She had never told anyone else about him. As far as she was concerned, he was her mystery.
Every other day or so she would return to this clump of dark trees to watch him, trying to discern who he was, and why he was there. Something she found off was that every time she returned it seemed like the shadows retreated from him. It was too fast to be sure, almost like seeing something out of the corner of your eye. It wasn't quite there, but . . it was. Either way, that only added to the mystery.
This time was different, though.
It was early morning when she went that day. The morning of Samhain. The figured she could spare an hour or so. She set her bow and quiver down before moving toward the spot where the dark man with deathly pale skin sat. Amidst the rustling of leaves her footsteps caused, a solitary twig snapped. The man's eyes snapped open. Icy gray eyes focused on her instantly, followed by a sharp intake of breath. The Dryad was frozen in place out of shock. She had no idea how to react. Should she run? Ask him who he was, why he was here? All the questions that had been plaguing her for three months? She didn't have time to decide.
Her body was discovered later. Her throat torn savagely open, skin pale as death, eyes wide forevermore.
There was no culprit to be found.
The forest was a quiet one. Deceptive and tricky. It seemed small on the outside, but once you entered it it began to grow. The deeper you went, the thicker it became. The more it seemed like you were entering another world. In a way, you were. You were moving further and further into the territory of one of the most powerful of all the Earth Lords: Tammuz, the Green Man. Though he slept, the world bloomed with life from his power. Ancient forests such as this were areas kept sacred even whilst humans laid waste to the natural world beyond.
Cernunnos and Tammuz would wreak havoc upon the humans for the way they treated the Earth, should either ever wake.
This deep part of the forest was home to Dryads and Hamadryads, the forest Nymphs. But, for the past three months, it had been home to something else, too. A young Dryad - meaning only around eighty to one hundred years old - found him one day, just sitting amidst thick, black, tangled roots. Legs crossed, eyes closed, and hands resting loosely on his knees. He stayed that way for three whole months. Though he may have been there longer, she had no way of knowing. She had never told anyone else about him. As far as she was concerned, he was her mystery.
Every other day or so she would return to this clump of dark trees to watch him, trying to discern who he was, and why he was there. Something she found off was that every time she returned it seemed like the shadows retreated from him. It was too fast to be sure, almost like seeing something out of the corner of your eye. It wasn't quite there, but . . it was. Either way, that only added to the mystery.
This time was different, though.
It was early morning when she went that day. The morning of Samhain. The figured she could spare an hour or so. She set her bow and quiver down before moving toward the spot where the dark man with deathly pale skin sat. Amidst the rustling of leaves her footsteps caused, a solitary twig snapped. The man's eyes snapped open. Icy gray eyes focused on her instantly, followed by a sharp intake of breath. The Dryad was frozen in place out of shock. She had no idea how to react. Should she run? Ask him who he was, why he was here? All the questions that had been plaguing her for three months? She didn't have time to decide.
Her body was discovered later. Her throat torn savagely open, skin pale as death, eyes wide forevermore.
There was no culprit to be found.
OOC Notes
The Riders, scattered, remained completely still. Until the time was right they could not move from their posts around the world. They had to maintain the formation. They slowly let their energy seep into the Earth and through the Wall into the Otherworld. Their power would stir the Earth Lords, ready them for their allotted times to wake. The mothers and the fathers; the destroyers and the preservers; those that give life and those that devour; and the ones of darkness. They whispered softly through the wind and the seas, their silent voices soothing the Earth Lords, calming them, preserving their slumber for the moment. The Earth was not yet ready for those who came before them to wake.
[Earth, United Kingdom, Stonehenge]
It was quiet near the ancient stones. Around the formation that was much older than humanity thought it to be. Nor did they know its true purpose. They did not know that the burial mounds surrounding the stones were the resting places of those who had actually been sacrificed by a young human race as a way to worship the "gods" that had built it. In truth, the ancient structure had been built by the Tuatha De as a portal to the Otherworld once the Wall began to "thicken". It was also a site of very powerful Otherworldly energy, as Stonehenge formed an invisible spear that punctured the Wall, and so the essence of that old land trickled through like water through a crack in a dam. A dam that was in danger of bursting. Due to this leak, many beings were attracted to it.
The sky was a mix of white-gray and scarce blue. A cool wind swept over the low grass and through the empty burial site, scattering bits of stone that fell in tiny grains from the ancient blocks. There was no noise at all. There were no animals to be seen, no voices or cares, not even the wind howled its lonely tune. Only silence reigned here. An unnatural, ethereal quiet. One that was not coincidental, but rather the world around Stonehenge holding its breath. As this ancient site would bear a massive brunt of the blow that was to come. A tool of ancient Otherworld magic and technology originally designed to help those living on Earth would soon become a catalyst for a disaster.
A soft, gray mist rose up in tendrils from the soil and grass. They snaked higher and higher, more tendrils growing further and further out. They grew faster the farther ahead the were. A cold, white cloud had formed over the grass, creeping towards Stonehenge. Before it reached the stones, the cloud suddenly billowed outward and a dark figure burst forth from it. A huge, black horse with stark white eyes galloped toward Stonehenge, a rider in black atop its back, a long black cape fluttering as he rode. The massive horse turned suddenly, slowing as it rode around the old stones. When it had finally stopped, the rider dismounted quickly and strode through the stones toward the center.
Kerrigan slowed to a halt at the center. He could feel a cool tingle all across his body from the energy collecting right where he stood, the direct center of Stonehenge. There was even more today than usual, as the Wall was weakest on Samhain, therefore the hole Stonehenge made was even bigger now. His icy eyes moved over the trilithon directly in front of him.
All it takes is one.
The words that had never come from his lips - nor any mouth at all, to be truthful - ran through his mind in their silent rasp. He reached out with his own magic, letting it move up into the invisible spire of energy Stonehenge created. As an Old Kind, it was much easier for him to open a passage to the Otherworld than for most. Though it would still require a significant portion of his power to do so. It was like shoving his hand through a mound of broken glass. He could feel his strength being ripped away like flesh from his very body. Finally, the hand breached the other side. It hovered briefly in a soothing sensation, as he was fully connected to the Otherworld he could feel his power growing a little from the damage reaching through the Wall had done.
The trilithons crackled to life with an electric energy. Short bolts and spiderwebs of blue-white lightning ran through and across the stones. He turned slowly, his face expressionless and eyes just as blank. They landed on the Slaughter Stone, which was now glowing bright blue. A red flame sparked to life on the stone, and blue mist rose lazily around it. Slowly a blue pillar began to form. The blue mist began to spiral fast and faster until it was churning violently. The flame was swept away by the vortex, and a hazy image of another land appeared in the doorway. As Kerrigan slowly made his way toward the door he lifted his arm so that his forearm was level with his midsection, and was held horizontally. Thin, shadowy wisps of black crawled from under his sleeves and gathered in his hand like liquid pooling. It quickly built up into a completely black sphere in his hand. He stopped short of the door and tossed the sphere almost carelessly into the pillar.
The sphere vanished and for a moment the pillar remained as it was. Black streaks flickered within the door, and vanished. They reappeared in another blink, before vanishing once again. When they flashed back into existence, they had spread even farther. This repeated itself over and over again. Every time they revealed themselves, the dark veins had reached even farther, like a spreading disease. When the tentacles reached the edge of the pillar they did not curve inward and fill the rest of the space within, instead the veins did not disappear. They stayed visible, and broke out from the pillar to wrap around it. They twisted and curled until each vein had linked to the outside of the pillar. They then proceeded to fold the pillar in on itself, forcing it to consume itself. It vanished with a flash and a sharp sound akin to the cracking of a whip.
Kerrigan looked down at the Slaughter Stone, which had cracked in half. The ragged split was straight down the center of the Stone. The deed fulfilled, he turned and walked back to his horse. As he mounted the huge animal, mist began to rise around him. Once fully mounted, he cracked the reigns and let out a loud, "Yah!" and the horse took off into the thin cloud. The mist blew apart, but the horse and its pale rider were nowhere to be seen.
[Earth, United Kingdom, Stonehenge]
It was quiet near the ancient stones. Around the formation that was much older than humanity thought it to be. Nor did they know its true purpose. They did not know that the burial mounds surrounding the stones were the resting places of those who had actually been sacrificed by a young human race as a way to worship the "gods" that had built it. In truth, the ancient structure had been built by the Tuatha De as a portal to the Otherworld once the Wall began to "thicken". It was also a site of very powerful Otherworldly energy, as Stonehenge formed an invisible spear that punctured the Wall, and so the essence of that old land trickled through like water through a crack in a dam. A dam that was in danger of bursting. Due to this leak, many beings were attracted to it.
The sky was a mix of white-gray and scarce blue. A cool wind swept over the low grass and through the empty burial site, scattering bits of stone that fell in tiny grains from the ancient blocks. There was no noise at all. There were no animals to be seen, no voices or cares, not even the wind howled its lonely tune. Only silence reigned here. An unnatural, ethereal quiet. One that was not coincidental, but rather the world around Stonehenge holding its breath. As this ancient site would bear a massive brunt of the blow that was to come. A tool of ancient Otherworld magic and technology originally designed to help those living on Earth would soon become a catalyst for a disaster.
A soft, gray mist rose up in tendrils from the soil and grass. They snaked higher and higher, more tendrils growing further and further out. They grew faster the farther ahead the were. A cold, white cloud had formed over the grass, creeping towards Stonehenge. Before it reached the stones, the cloud suddenly billowed outward and a dark figure burst forth from it. A huge, black horse with stark white eyes galloped toward Stonehenge, a rider in black atop its back, a long black cape fluttering as he rode. The massive horse turned suddenly, slowing as it rode around the old stones. When it had finally stopped, the rider dismounted quickly and strode through the stones toward the center.
Kerrigan slowed to a halt at the center. He could feel a cool tingle all across his body from the energy collecting right where he stood, the direct center of Stonehenge. There was even more today than usual, as the Wall was weakest on Samhain, therefore the hole Stonehenge made was even bigger now. His icy eyes moved over the trilithon directly in front of him.
All it takes is one.
The words that had never come from his lips - nor any mouth at all, to be truthful - ran through his mind in their silent rasp. He reached out with his own magic, letting it move up into the invisible spire of energy Stonehenge created. As an Old Kind, it was much easier for him to open a passage to the Otherworld than for most. Though it would still require a significant portion of his power to do so. It was like shoving his hand through a mound of broken glass. He could feel his strength being ripped away like flesh from his very body. Finally, the hand breached the other side. It hovered briefly in a soothing sensation, as he was fully connected to the Otherworld he could feel his power growing a little from the damage reaching through the Wall had done.
The trilithons crackled to life with an electric energy. Short bolts and spiderwebs of blue-white lightning ran through and across the stones. He turned slowly, his face expressionless and eyes just as blank. They landed on the Slaughter Stone, which was now glowing bright blue. A red flame sparked to life on the stone, and blue mist rose lazily around it. Slowly a blue pillar began to form. The blue mist began to spiral fast and faster until it was churning violently. The flame was swept away by the vortex, and a hazy image of another land appeared in the doorway. As Kerrigan slowly made his way toward the door he lifted his arm so that his forearm was level with his midsection, and was held horizontally. Thin, shadowy wisps of black crawled from under his sleeves and gathered in his hand like liquid pooling. It quickly built up into a completely black sphere in his hand. He stopped short of the door and tossed the sphere almost carelessly into the pillar.
The sphere vanished and for a moment the pillar remained as it was. Black streaks flickered within the door, and vanished. They reappeared in another blink, before vanishing once again. When they flashed back into existence, they had spread even farther. This repeated itself over and over again. Every time they revealed themselves, the dark veins had reached even farther, like a spreading disease. When the tentacles reached the edge of the pillar they did not curve inward and fill the rest of the space within, instead the veins did not disappear. They stayed visible, and broke out from the pillar to wrap around it. They twisted and curled until each vein had linked to the outside of the pillar. They then proceeded to fold the pillar in on itself, forcing it to consume itself. It vanished with a flash and a sharp sound akin to the cracking of a whip.
Kerrigan looked down at the Slaughter Stone, which had cracked in half. The ragged split was straight down the center of the Stone. The deed fulfilled, he turned and walked back to his horse. As he mounted the huge animal, mist began to rise around him. Once fully mounted, he cracked the reigns and let out a loud, "Yah!" and the horse took off into the thin cloud. The mist blew apart, but the horse and its pale rider were nowhere to be seen.
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Hallowed Eve: The Eternal Hallowe'en: Out Of Character (OOC)
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Hallowed Eve: The Eternal Hallowe'en
1, 2, 3by The Adversary on Fri Jul 09, 2010 4:23 pm
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Hallowed Eve: The Eternal Hallowe'en
Most recent OOC posts in Hallowed Eve: The Eternal Hallowe'en
Re: [OOC] Hallowed Eve: The Eternal Hallowe'en
Okay, I've got the Earth Lords list up and have already added a few more to it.
Re: [OOC] Hallowed Eve: The Eternal Hallowe'en
wow you guys are already starting. I'll have my character done by tomorrow (hopefully) XD
Re: [OOC] Hallowed Eve: The Eternal Hallowe'en
Hey, I just posted. My character is in the otherworld to start out with, so I didn't include the time or anything. The Otherworld seemed too random and hectic to have timezones.
Re: [OOC] Hallowed Eve: The Eternal Hallowe'en
As for starting points it can vary from character to character. Just to make sure we're all on the same page time-wise, it will start during early morning in Britain and Ireland. All other countries will of course be in their correct time-zones, like how America is six hours behind England and Ireland.
Re: [OOC] Hallowed Eve: The Eternal Hallowe'en
I'm actually kind of wondering how to introduce my character right now. Also wondering WHERE to start it as well. (I vote for BRITAIN)
Re: [OOC] Hallowed Eve: The Eternal Hallowe'en
Right! First off, I'll start with a sort of . . how should I say . . generic? . . post. In other words, it won't be in either of my characters, just something to kick it off. Second: I will eventually post two "character sheets" in a sense; one for the five Horsemen, and another for the known Earth Lords and their appearances. That one will be added to as more appear. Each time a new Earth Lord wakes up, it will be described with another post like the one I'll start the RP with. I will still be accepting character applications, of course, and I should have the post up today, hopefully. I would have done it last night, but, my relatives have crappy wireless internet that will randomly shut off. Unfortuately it shut off last night right as I pressed the SUBMIT button to post an unrevised version of this notice. *sigh*
Re: [OOC] Hallowed Eve: The Eternal Hallowe'en
Well, he wasn't captured at the END of the war. He escaped before the Old Kind could capture him. But, the Aesir did hunt him down. It took a while, but yes, they did eventually capture and imprison him. Yes, he killed Baldur. As for the Ragnarok part, due to the history of the Otherworld races in this scenario, the eternal Samhain would be what gives him enough strength to free himself.
And I can't really remember what the title was. It was sorta of a generic "Myths of the Such-and-such" kinda title.
And I can't really remember what the title was. It was sorta of a generic "Myths of the Such-and-such" kinda title.
Re: [OOC] Hallowed Eve: The Eternal Hallowe'en
Do you remember the name of the book? I might check it out later.
Re: [OOC] Hallowed Eve: The Eternal Hallowe'en
Heh, alright, thanks. So Loki is NOT imprisoned in Utgard now, as punishment for the Baldur incident? Dammit. I was going to have his intro be him seeing/hearing what happened, decide Ragnarock has come, and broken free to go fulfill his role. Did he still kill Baldur?
Re: [OOC] Hallowed Eve: The Eternal Hallowe'en
Sigh.. First, thanks for accepting my character, but, of course this happened just when I got mine up.. I'll be inactive here for a bit, as my laptop's hard drive has gone to hell... So I should be getting it fixed, but in the meantime I'll only be here every once in a while. I'll try to use the desk top to post, though.
Re: [OOC] Hallowed Eve: The Eternal Hallowe'en
Yeah, after spending forever in my Highschool's "ancient" library I found a book older than the school itself that had myths from all over the world. Most of the Greek and Norse ones I was familiar with, but it included myths from Aztec, Australian, Japanese, Chinese, and I think one other culture's mythology. What sucked was that a chunk of pages from the Greek section had been ripped out.
All right. Take in mind, Xiphoniii - and I'll be posting a second character whose history mentions this - Loki was the reason the Aesir were defeated so quickly in the Otherworld War. He went traitor and joined the Jotunn, becoming one of their more prominent commanders. Though he was never captured when the Fomor and the Jotunn were defeated.
Yeah, the Norse myths are by far my favorites. It used to be Greek mythology, but that was before I'd even started reading up on Norse myths. I do prefer their gods to the Greek pantheon. I can't remember if this was in the books or not - since I haven't read them in some time - but I believe it mentioned that the cry of a rooster can kill the Basilisk. And thanks, but I'm no expert on mythology. Michael Scott, however, is.
All right. Take in mind, Xiphoniii - and I'll be posting a second character whose history mentions this - Loki was the reason the Aesir were defeated so quickly in the Otherworld War. He went traitor and joined the Jotunn, becoming one of their more prominent commanders. Though he was never captured when the Fomor and the Jotunn were defeated.
Yeah, the Norse myths are by far my favorites. It used to be Greek mythology, but that was before I'd even started reading up on Norse myths. I do prefer their gods to the Greek pantheon. I can't remember if this was in the books or not - since I haven't read them in some time - but I believe it mentioned that the cry of a rooster can kill the Basilisk. And thanks, but I'm no expert on mythology. Michael Scott, however, is.
Re: [OOC] Hallowed Eve: The Eternal Hallowe'en
Wow, learn something new every day ^^ I remember getting a book about all of the mythological references that Rowling used, and I was quite impressed. I liked how Hermione in the books got petrified, similar to how Hermione was turned to stone by Medusa. Sometimes I think that Rowling was very lenient with her interpretations. The Basilisk was cool but it was unlike one I'd heard of before. I would have liked to see the form that was an eight-legged lizard, or the Cockatrice.
Loki is very cool, I'll be playing someone kind of similar to him but not equal in stature or power. I think Norse mythology is my favorite, the tales of the gods were brilliant. I have a huge book filled with them :D
It's nice to be part of an RP done by someone with so much knowledge of myth. My character should be in soon, in any case.
Loki is very cool, I'll be playing someone kind of similar to him but not equal in stature or power. I think Norse mythology is my favorite, the tales of the gods were brilliant. I have a huge book filled with them :D
It's nice to be part of an RP done by someone with so much knowledge of myth. My character should be in soon, in any case.
Re: [OOC] Hallowed Eve: The Eternal Hallowe'en
Heh. Thanks. I suppose he is a more interesting character. I won't be on much for the next two weeks, but I'll work on getting him up a character sheet.
Re: [OOC] Hallowed Eve: The Eternal Hallowe'en
Loki, no contest, for me. But that's just a personal preference - I've always loved the Trickster. I seriously considered playing Loki, but decided against it in the end.
He's such an interesting character - all the Norse myths and poems with him in are well worth a read.
He's such an interesting character - all the Norse myths and poems with him in are well worth a read.
