Terra Nostra: First Contact

Portrait of a Sociopath · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **Portrait of a Sociopath** on Sun Feb 08, 2015 11:41 am

This is the auto-generated OOC topic for the roleplay "Terra Nostra: First Contact"

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Portrait of a Sociopath · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **Portrait of a Sociopath** on Sat Apr 11, 2015 12:15 am

People of Interest

Amanda Cartwright - APA-XII
A hopeless romantic and a mother hen. It's not my fault if people are too oblivious to come out unscathed of my experiments. She never misses an opportunity to remind me of that one time she got lucky, but it's just a matter of time before I find the right participants to prove her wrong. Love is not invincible; love is a liability as are all other emotions. Suffice to know how to manipulate it.
Phoebe Lane - AHA-XI
Her impeccable work ethics and quick wits are admirable assets. We also share similar interests and a never ending desire to better ourselves intellectually. Great company, but I cannot comprehend why she tolerates the company of filth such as Subject HB-XII.
Note: Cease and desist if pointy object has been spotted within her reach.
Altair D'Cruz - HOB-XI
His control over his inherited powers is admirable. Great pacifier and a treasure trove of references. To be sought out should precognitive visions return or fallout of experiments reach me. Room is particularly pleasant for a nap while storm blows over.

Subjects of Interest

HB-XII - Theodore Fawkes
Filthy thief. If you are reading this, know that I will find out and I will project the raunchiest deviant pornography into your mind for the rest of your stay.
PB-XII - Aurel Lupei
Hazard. To be handled with care. Unpredictable temper and prone to violence. Excellent for stirring trouble and creating a distraction.
HDA-XI - Isra Tennyson
Difficult to set off and rarely can any reaction be observed.

Wild Cards

Subject AHB-XI - Dylan Ramirez

Portrait of a Sociopath · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **Portrait of a Sociopath** on Sat Apr 11, 2015 12:20 am

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Après moi, le déluge.
═══════════════════════════════════════════════════

Like the majority of snotty, privileged teens whose future had already been secured, Aiden had associated his break to an absence of pressure or responsibility, but unlike platinum card-wielding teens of his age, Aiden did not spend his free time vacationing in tropical villas or blowing his trust fund on obsolete material goods. While he had been guilty of indulging in such activities in the past, they have long lost their appeal ever since Aiden had caught onto the scent of a much more unusual hobby: finding proof of the Gods' presence throughout history, more specifically, Hecate's. It involved connecting numerous cultures and lore to what he had learned at Aeonis and extensive research for humans had progressed towards an age of science and only the most rural areas had any information of interest.

Ever since he had left Aeonis last semester, Aiden had been traveling to a number of European countries, using some cultural exchange program to avoid returning to his father. He had sent postcards back to his mo-step mother-- the words still sounded wrong even if he's known that they shared no blood for over 6 years--, but had been too busy or simply out of range of any ISP to communicate with her directly. He felt a bit guilty, but knew that she would be stuck appeasing his father if he went back. Not only was he looking into things the old man did not approve of, the methods and individuals he used to get what he wanted would surely invoke a lengthy lecture with which neither felt like dealing.

Indeed, antique shops, flea markets, both clandestine and government sanctioned ones, pawn shops and occasional black markets were among the recourse he had to take. His goal had been simple: anything even remotely involved in any lore or rumors involving sorcery, he would inspect, and, should they be even remotely genuine, he would acquire. As a result, he had returned to the small peninsula that hosted Aeonis with a few extra suitcases of old, dusty tomes and items he had to smuggle through customs, his figurative wallet, only slightly lighter than how it was when he had initially left. Admittedly, he may have acquired some items by less than lawful ways--you pick up a few tricks of your own when you've been at war against one of Hermes' progeny--, but one thing he had learned over the years was that one's worth was in the eye of the beholder. Consequently, what was written on the price tags did not always reflect the value he would attribute to some goods that were put on sale and that had been all the better for him. Whoever had the misfortune of becoming his roommate would thus be greeted by a few crates of questionable vials, containing suspiciously organic items and leather bound books on which faded writings in obscure languages could be seen.

He had come to the conclusion that he would not have the time to properly unpack last night after finally returning to what was his sanctuary. With that in mind, he had given up on the thought altogether to dedicate what free time he had left to deciphering an ancient tome, his latest project. The academy had give its students plenty of time to plan their return, but Aiden had purposefully pushed back the date of his return until the last minute. While he had enjoyed every moment he had spent here, he had also dreaded the start of another semester and that, for no other reason than a childish distaste for early mornings as can be seen on this particular day.

Having been a night owl for a whole of 2 months and being someone who notoriously loves to sleep in made an early rise particularly painful, especially so due to how late he he had fallen asleep (nose still in a yellowing grimoire) the night prior. When the PA system had buzzed, it was as though someone had unleashed a symphony of kazoo next to his ear and his knee-jerk reaction had been to send everything flying in a not too subtle display of his gift.

Only when a familiar voice was projected from nearby speakers that Aiden finally settled down, heart hammering in his chest. No freaking way could that thief get in without setting off a spell or two of what Aiden had cast on all four walls, windows and door of his room. And if Theodore had actually ended up being his roommate, which was quite unlikely, too fucking bad.

The son of Hecate had been so engrossed in his reading last night that he had completely lost track of time. It had turned out that the artifact he had gotten his hands on had been a satirical book of basic sorcery. Whoever the author was, Hecate or one of Aiden's numerous half-siblings, had a twisted sense of humor: the spells that had been listed would work, but would yield results opposite of what had been indicated. Of course, that was usually equivalent to life threatening disasters, but Aiden had brushed that little detail aside. The fact that said book had been the heirloom of a superstitious family of hicks in some rural region of Wales only made it even more hilarious.

Still, he would have to pay the price of his late night reading. Grumbling under his breath, he ran a hand in his dark hair to flatten any cowlicks or stray locks that had magically appeared during the night so that he could be at least semi-presentable. He was about to call it quits, when he saw that some decade old, maroon ink had somehow managed to stain his cheek, but revised his choice when his mind finally registered what he had heard.

As much as he loved sleeping in, the first few days of each semester were a crucial time for him to locate Subjects of Interest and find new ones in the form of wide-eyed freshmen. Not to mention this mystery guest. His curiosity was definitely piqued, but that did not mean that he had to be enthusiastic about it.

As the clock ticked closer to the ninth hour, Aiden blitzed through his morning ritual, leaving a red spot on his cheek where he had furiously rubbed at the antiquated ink. It was, fortunately for some, not enough to completely wake him up so much that he almost tripped once or twice over his own luggage. He will pick up his stuff later. That includes the numerous papers and books and vials that had been flung onto the bed assigned to his roommate. Because fuck mornings.

Only when he finally had his first cup of jasmine tea did he deem himself ready to head over to the dining hall. On the way, he fished out his phone to send a quick text to one of the few individuals whose presence he genuinely enjoyed and whose mere mention could lighten his abysmal mood, even by an iota.

To: Phoebe J. Lane
eyyyy,
how ya doing? i found some interesting items in europe. youd be surprised how indiscreet some of the gods are. im amazed theyve remained hidden so long! see you at the ceremony

Text sent, Aiden set his phone to vibrate and slipped it back into the pocket of his indigo blazer just in time to be greeted by the sight of the dining hall. He recognized a few familiar faces, but none that he was particularly interested in socializing with so he sat down at the back with a thermos full of tea --jasmine, of course--, near the entrance, where he could observe the coming and going of his peers without the need to crane his neck, and slowly kick his mind into gear.

═══════════════════════════════════════════════════
Mood: Irritated | Status: Half-asleep
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Portrait of a Sociopath · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **Portrait of a Sociopath** on Sat Apr 11, 2015 12:23 am

═══════════════════════════════════════════════════
Après moi, le déluge.
═══════════════════════════════════════════════════

Like the majority of snotty, privileged teens whose future had already been secured, Aiden had associated his break to an absence of pressure or responsibility, but unlike platinum card-wielding teens of his age, Aiden did not spend his free time vacationing in tropical villas or blowing his trust fund on obsolete material goods. While he had been guilty of indulging in such activities in the past, they have long lost their appeal ever since Aiden had caught onto the scent of a much more unusual hobby: finding proof of the Gods' presence throughout history, more specifically, Hecate's. It involved connecting numerous cultures and lore to what he had learned at Aeonis and extensive research for humans had progressed towards an age of science and only the most rural areas had any information of interest.

Ever since he had left Aeonis last semester, Aiden had been traveling to a number of European countries, using some cultural exchange program to avoid returning to his father. He had sent postcards back to his mo-step mother-- the words still sounded wrong even if he's known that they shared no blood for over 6 years--, but had been too busy or simply out of range of any ISP to communicate with her directly. He felt a bit guilty, but knew that she would be stuck appeasing his father if he went back. Not only was he looking into things the old man did not approve of, the methods and individuals he used to get what he wanted would surely invoke a lengthy lecture with which neither felt like dealing.

Indeed, antique shops, flea markets, both clandestine and government sanctioned ones, pawn shops and occasional black markets were among the recourse he had to take. His goal had been simple: anything even remotely involved in any lore or rumors involving sorcery, he would inspect, and, should they be even remotely genuine, he would acquire. As a result, he had returned to the small peninsula that hosted Aeonis with a few extra suitcases of old, dusty tomes and items he had to smuggle through customs, his figurative wallet, only slightly lighter than how it was when he had initially left. Admittedly, he may have acquired some items by less than lawful ways--you pick up a few tricks of your own when you've been at war against one of Hermes' progeny--, but one thing he had learned over the years was that one's worth was in the eye of the beholder. Consequently, what was written on the price tags did not always reflect the value he would attribute to some goods that were put on sale and that had been all the better for him. Whoever had the misfortune of becoming his roommate would thus be greeted by a few crates of questionable vials, containing suspiciously organic items and leather bound books on which faded writings in obscure languages could be seen.

He had come to the conclusion that he would not have the time to properly unpack last night after finally returning to what was his sanctuary. With that in mind, he had given up on the thought altogether to dedicate what free time he had left to deciphering an ancient tome, his latest project. The academy had give its students plenty of time to plan their return, but Aiden had purposefully pushed back the date of his return until the last minute. While he had enjoyed every moment he had spent here, he had also dreaded the start of another semester and that, for no other reason than a childish distaste for early mornings as can be seen on this particular day.

Having been a night owl for a whole of 2 months and being someone who notoriously loves to sleep in made an early rise particularly painful, especially so due to how late he he had fallen asleep (nose still in a yellowing grimoire) the night prior. When the PA system had buzzed, it was as though someone had unleashed a symphony of kazoo next to his ear and his knee-jerk reaction had been to send everything flying in a not too subtle display of his gift.

Only when a familiar voice was projected from nearby speakers that Aiden finally settled down, heart hammering in his chest. No freaking way could that thief get in without setting off a spell or two of what Aiden had cast on all four walls, windows and door of his room. And if Theodore had actually ended up being his roommate, which was quite unlikely, too fucking bad.

The son of Hecate had been so engrossed in his reading last night that he had completely lost track of time. It had turned out that the artifact he had gotten his hands on had been a satirical book of basic sorcery. Whoever the author was, Hecate or one of Aiden's numerous half-siblings, had a twisted sense of humor: the spells that had been listed would work, but would yield results opposite of what had been indicated. Of course, that was usually equivalent to life threatening disasters, but Aiden had brushed that little detail aside. The fact that said book had been the heirloom of a superstitious family of hicks in some rural region of Wales only made it even more hilarious.

Still, he would have to pay the price of his late night reading. Grumbling under his breath, he ran a hand in his dark hair to flatten any cowlicks or stray locks that had magically appeared during the night so that he could be at least semi-presentable. He was about to call it quits, when he saw that some decade old, maroon ink had somehow managed to stain his cheek, but revised his choice when his mind finally registered what he had heard.

As much as he loved sleeping in, the first few days of each semester were a crucial time for him to locate Subjects of Interest and find new ones in the form of wide-eyed freshmen. Not to mention this mystery guest. His curiosity was definitely piqued, but that did not mean that he had to be enthusiastic about it.

As the clock ticked closer to the ninth hour, Aiden blitzed through his morning ritual, leaving a red spot on his cheek where he had furiously rubbed at the antiquated ink. It was, fortunately for some, not enough to completely wake him up so much that he almost tripped once or twice over his own luggage. He will pick up his stuff later. That includes the numerous papers and books and vials that had been flung onto the bed assigned to his roommate. Because fuck mornings.

Only when he finally had his first cup of jasmine tea did he deem himself ready to head over to the dining hall. On the way, he fished out his phone to send a quick text to one of the few individuals whose presence he genuinely enjoyed and whose mere mention could lighten his abysmal mood, even by an iota.

To: Phoebe J. Lane
eyyyy,
how ya doing? i found some interesting items in europe. youd be surprised how indiscreet some of the gods are. im amazed theyve remained hidden so long! see you at the ceremony

Text sent, Aiden set his phone to vibrate and slipped it back into the pocket of his indigo blazer just in time to be greeted by the sight of the dining hall. He recognized a few familiar faces, but none that he was particularly interested in socializing with so he sat down at the back with a thermos full of tea --jasmine, of course--, near the entrance, where he could observe the coming and going of his peers without the need to crane his neck, and slowly kick his mind into gear.

═══════════════════════════════════════════════════
Mood: Irritated | Status: Half-asleep
═══════════════════════════════════════════════════

Portrait of a Sociopath · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **Portrait of a Sociopath** on Sat Apr 11, 2015 12:27 am

Testing 4

Portrait of a Sociopath · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **Portrait of a Sociopath** on Sat Apr 11, 2015 12:30 am

testing 5

Portrait of a Sociopath · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **Portrait of a Sociopath** on Sat Apr 11, 2015 12:32 am

Testing 6

Portrait of a Sociopath · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **Portrait of a Sociopath** on Sat Apr 11, 2015 12:35 am

Testing 7

Portrait of a Sociopath · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **Portrait of a Sociopath** on Sat Apr 11, 2015 12:37 am

Testing 8

Portrait of a Sociopath · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **Portrait of a Sociopath** on Sat Apr 11, 2015 12:39 am

Testing 9

Portrait of a Sociopath · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **Portrait of a Sociopath** on Sat Apr 11, 2015 12:43 am

Testing 10

Portrait of a Sociopath · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **Portrait of a Sociopath** on Sun Jun 28, 2015 12:13 pm

testing

Terra Nostra: First Contact

a part of “Terra Nostra”, a fictional universe by Portrait of a Sociopath.

Terra Nostra: First Contact

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