Dark_RP

Felix didn't like this, the comms had gone too quiet. He could only hear Uri and Hidoshi now as they moved through the ship, the comms signals from Johnson, Michaels, and Anders had all gone dead.
At least they had stopped the spin. When they had finally found the Cyclops she had been spinning badly on her central axis, God knows why, perhaps the launch of escape pods had started it but for now it was just another part of the mystery. The small ship was one of the fleet's many scouts and Marine Corps informants had been suspicious of cult activities on board for months, the crew were being watched. When the Cyclops didn't come back or check in after a routine ore prospecting mission alarm bells started ringing. His unit had been sent out to find her and bring the crew in for questioning. They had finally tracked her down to an asteroid field off the inner edge of the Kuiper Belt, drifting among the rocks and too close to the orbit of Pluto for his liking. So far they had found the Cyclops disconcertingly empty, the crew had gone, but in the last hour so had 3 members of their own search team.

It had been in 2070 when he left Earth for the last time, fresh out of the University of Toronto with a degree in Software Engineering, a masters in Occult Studies, and something to prove. The First Arcanotech War was over, thankfully he had been too young to be drafted but the scars from the conflict were all around, including the strangely elf-like black skinned Nazzadi that now lived among them. It was during this time that his life took the first of many left turns. Abandoning lucrative career aspirations in holo-design he turned instead toward the budding world of the occult. After studying at the university under some of the finest occult minds in the city he started to make his living as a freelancer, conducting research and investigations for those in need. That was how he met his wife, Catherine, she was headstrong and confident in all the ways he wasn't, and knew exactly what she wanted. They had fallen in love almost straight away. She was fascinated by him and his world, and he admired her for the things she believed in. She was a military pilot, and though her family was local she was headed for the stars. She had volunteered for the assignment, 5 years sentry duty on Mars. It was a quiet posting, the colony there was still small and had seen almost no fighting in the last war, but you had to leave everything behind. Only spouses could be brought along, and so only 6 months into their relationship and a month before she was due to complete her training they were married.

He was still trying to hack into the ship's LAI when he heard gunfire over the comms and decided to move out from the shelter of the airlock. The colonial marines trained you not to fire inside a ship unless you saw something and were sure you could hit it, ricochet's a killer not to mention hull breaches. He checked the clip on his GSL-MKII, readied it and moved out down the corridor, shunting himself along weightlessly as the lights flickered overhead. He could only hear Hidoshi now, and so made for the Cyclops' systems core from where the Japanese marine was saying it looked like a signal had been broadcast. The a deep metallic groan reverberated through the ship. It was likely just metal fatigue from the cyclops' previous uncontrolled spin and then sudden stop, at least that's what Felix told himself as he unconsciously quickened his pace, kicking off from a wall and down the next corridor. He heard gunfire again, this time it wasn't over the comms but came from round the next corner.

Life on Mars had been good, the colony had been small compared to Toronto and its arcology but there was a good sense of community there, and soon enough Felix was back to his freelance work in what passed for the Martian arcane underground while his wife flew patrols overhead. The skies had been quiet for years before they came and Felix had been happy, people even began to doubt that the alien masters spoken of by the Nazzadi even existed. Then one day everything changed.
The Migou fleet passed them and the other colonies by on their way to Earth, but they did destroy their defenses and shoot their ships out of the sky to make them soft targets for the return journey. He never got chance to say goodbye to Catherine, she just never came back, then all hell broke lose. Fire rained from the sky and the evacuation began, while the news carried images of even worse things happening on Earth. He hoped his family back home was OK and that they would collectively give these 'Migou' the hell that they deserved. Everything was lost, his home, his wife, his job. He joined the colonial marines not long after their flotilla left Mars, vengeance was all he wanted now, to kill and hurt the Migou in the same way they had hurt him, hurt Catherine, hurt everyone.

Felix wasn't taking any chances and swung round the corner weapon first. What he saw was blood, the bright red blood of Corporal Hidoshi sprayed around the systems room, and a large tentacled insect-like alien hovering there. He'd never seen one in the flesh this close before, he fired without thinking. The shots hit but pinged off the thing's armour and one ricocheted back down from the ceiling into his shoulder right at the join of his suit. He flailed in the air, and as he did so he noticed through the glasses that he had enchanted strange symbols glowing on the surface of the creature, symbols that were not visible to the naked eye. They reminded him of symbols they had seen drawn on the walls during of his unit's previous raids, they related to Hastur. He didn't know the Migou dabbled in such things, perhaps they too had cultists in their midst, perhaps those cultists had an arrangement with the human cultists that had come here aboard the Cyclops. The thing stabbed him on its way past with a viscous looking bladed device, the same thing it had killed Hidoshi with, before buzzing away on its strangely delicate looking wings. His suit was filling with blood but he summoned what strength he had left to push off after it. He caught up just in time to see the emergency doors close and the last escape pod blast off with a jolt that rocked the listing ship. Cursing, he made his way back to the airlock and on to their own ship. There was only him and the pilot left now. The pod had sped off, straight toward Pluto. He never found out what had really happened on board the Cyclops , but he hoped the human cultists got whatever they deserved.

Now, ten years since they had become refugees in their own solar system, he had adapted to life in the fleet. Permanently in space fleeing an enemy that was even now still bombarding and raping their homeworld, what wasn't to love. He had even taken up gardening and claimed a hydroponics bay as his own. In the marines he mainly served as an arcane investigator, though he had been trained in how to properly handle a weapon. Sometimes he made side money from private jobs or even made use of his old programming skills, but ultimately he was sure of only one thing, he was determined not to die until he had made the bugs pay for what they had done. Somehow, one day, he'd find a way.

◾ Mood: listless
◾ Audio Input: Supersimmetria - Casimir Effect

◾ Tags:

22/08/2014 12:48

5th of June

Life here in the holy land has been stable recently, ~~the master~~, sorry the holy prophet of Rome, has been absorbed in his visions to the extent that I have largely been left to my own devices. Since the death of my cousin I have been able to take full possession of his home, life has been uncommonly quiet and pleasant.

I should have known this could not last.

This morning, the master was uncommonly lucid. Worryingly so. He only gets like this when he's been given clear information from his divine sources, which usually means trouble.

He informed me that my ration of his holy blood must be reduced. Naturally I asked why, and he told me that he would need it for the others. What others I asked, but I got no clear response as he rushed out of the house and into the streets.

8th of June

Still no sign of the master since my last entry. I feed the withdrawal of his holy presence and it tests me dearly.

10th of June

The master has returned. Sadly not alone.

He has been preaching his word to all he can find. The lord has commanded he raise an army of the faithful for some mysterious task ahead, and so he has gone into the streets, churches and taverns spreading his word.

As I have seen before he can be quite persuasive when the mood takes him and the lord releases his mind enough for him to be lucid. And so it is now that my small house is full of strangers.

Of course they are mostly beggars opportunists and thieves.. But some amongst them seem like folk that could be useful for whatever it is he has in mind (he still won't tell me). Hopefully I can persuade him to dump the dead weight.

Which could also be useful if he's going to start sharing out the holy sacrament of his blood to these people. Perish the thought.

What else can go wrong?

◾ Tags:

21/03/2014 18:21

Alastair Albern - aka 'Al'

The wind howled outside beyond the glass. Sheets of rain hammered down from the dark sky above as the storm violently shook some of the older windows in their frames.
For two weeks now he had been conducting repairs and servicing the light. Shorted relays, damaged mirrors, the works. The place had been pretty badly battered by the storms that had been lashing the north coast this season. There had even been a lightning strike to the rod atop the tower.
The television was on in the background, and a BBC newsreader droned on about the economy as Al looked out of the window.
There it was again!
He saw a face in the sheets of falling rain, its mouth open as if the howling wind were it's scream to the heavens. Even as he shook his head and tried to put it out of his mind a cold shiver ran up the length of his spine.
He swallowed hard and took another puff on his cigar, it was not the first time he had seen that face in the storms.
What's wrong with me...
His move to the lighthouse was meant to bring peace, meant to give him a place to collect himself, to recover. The truth was it had done anything but.
He had first come to the lighthouse almost a year ago, following the death of his wife. The Coast Guard had been good to him, and were more than happy to let him transfer to Trinity House following his bereavement. After all he had been, for a brief time, a hero.

Three years ago he had been awarded the George Medal for bravery after having gone out alone in rough seas while off duty, risking his life to save six crew members of a fishing boat that had been dashed against the rocks. His wife had almost killed him herself when she had found out, but the service had pinned a medal on his chest.
She had died mere months later, an aneurism followed by a coma that there was no rescuing her from.
Before they had drifted away his friends offered plenty of support, but they weren't Melissa. At first he had taken bereavement leave and then tried to return to work, it felt good to be back out on the waves but before too long he had realised he just couldn't continue with the way things were, as if nothing had happened. Returning to the same empty house every night was gnawing at his soul.
It was then that he had transfered to the lighthouse service. It was meant to be temporary, to give him time to heal and remember who he was.
Shit!
The sound of smashing glass echoed down the from above, amplified by the tower. He dropped the stub of his cigar and jumped to his feet.
As he stood there alone staring up the spiral staircase into the darkness he heard nothing but the roar of the storm.
Perhaps it was a bird strike, he said to himself as he inched his way with some trepidation over to the foot of the stairs and began to climb.
After what seemed like an eternity he reached the light filled lamp room at the top of the tower. All of the narrow windows on the way up had been firm and intact, and as he walked around the circular chamber with its large revolving light and mirrored back panel he saw, to his confusion, that nothing up there was broken either.
But I heard the glass break, what the...
Outside the dark sky roiled and swirled with storm clouds as the sea beyond the cliffs churned violently and great waves broke against the cliffs. But nothing inside was broken. I must be hearing things, but it was so clear!
Al's confusion was watered down by relief and he began to make his way back down stairs.
As he descended the howl of the wind once again grew louder and when he reemerged into the living quarters downstairs, to his absolute and almost irrational horror he saw that the window in front of which he had been sitting with his cigar lay smashed in fragments on the floor leaving the frame wide open to the raging elements.
He stopped, open mouthed as the white curtains whipped about the room from their rail as if reaching out toward him.
There was glass scattered everywhere, everywhere but the chair he had been sitting on. He raised his hand to his forehead and felt a sticky dampness, when he brought it away there was blood on his fingertips, his blood.
Alasteir realised that his hands and face were covered in small lacerations. This can't be happening... Disbelief flooded his brain once again, this time with a healthy dose of fear. Primal Fear.
Even as he felt himself begin to shake he heard the BBC presenter continue his report. "...which is why the Chancellor today announced in his pre-budget speech to Parliament that you are alone, insane, and no one is coming to help you. This storm will last forever..."
Al slowly turned around to face the small television behind him.
The presenter had stopped speaking and was now staring directly at him, grim faced, from out of the screen.
How the HELL could this be happening.

It was then, as Alastair began to wonder if he had been drugged or was even awake, that he heard the screams from outside. Someone was calling for help.
Fuck it
He shook his head and rubbed his eyes as if to dispel what was happening to him. Whatever the hell is going on here I still have a job to do.
He ran to the door, grabbing his long heavy coat from the hook before unbolting it and dashing out.
He was instantly blown sideways a few meters before he managed to steady himself against the wind. The storm was severe, at least a force 10, and Al had to be careful not to blown off his feet. Despite the floodlights around the tower visibility was also down, rain and spray filled the air.
There it is again..."Help! Somebody! I'm..."
It was coming from the direction of the cliff face, perhaps someone has stumbled over the edge or was stuck on the rocks down in the cove. He heard the voice again, but its words were drowned out in the gale.
Al slowly and carefully made his way toward the cliff edge in a low posture just as a great wave surged crashed against the rocks below sending white spray and foam high into the air.
He stopped for a moment to listen again, but there was nothing. The wind died down momentarily and and Al dared to stand upright and crane his neck. Thinking he heard something he took a step forward and looked down on to the rocks.
There was no sign of anybody, not a soul, but just as he began to turn back he felt the hard push of two hands on his back, forcefully shoving him forward.
After a momentary loss of balance his back foot was on nothing but air. As he fell over the edge he twisted to look behind him.
There was no one there.
Screaming, he continued to fall, faster still with every moment, and in the last second before his bones broke on hard black rocks he saw it again. That same face from the window, revealed in the swirling wind and rain, a face of pure terror, and whether it was real or not it was the last thing he saw with living eyes.

And the wind continued to howl...

It was later, much later, when Alastair Albern became conscious again.
He was trapped, tightly constricted and his vision was blurred. He was in something.
His own muffled screams were ringing in his ears when a tall shadow appeared looming over him, looking down. It raised its arms and then struck down as Al suddenly found himself freed. His vision cleared and he jumped to his feet.
A tall black robed figure stood before him, its features lost in the shadows of its hood and a wicked curved scythe in its hands.
He was still on the rocks, but the storm had passed and he noticed that the robed figure was in fact stood in a small reed boat floating on the water's edge. But the water seemed black and the sky above glowed a deep dim red.
He could see the beam from the lighthouse above still shining out but it seemed strange and somehow more distant than it should have been from his position.
"Welcome to the lands of death." Said the figure in a sibilant whispering voice like the rustling of dead leaves, and without another word pushed off from the shore with the long pole of his scythe.
"Wait!" He shouted after it, but Al remembered what had happened, remembered falling. He knew it, he felt it in his gut - he was dead.
The strange boatman was moving away rapidly now, lighting a lantern as he disappeared from sight out into the sea.

The first year of Al's death was no more enjoyable than the last year of his life, but he learned to stand on his own two feet in the Shadowlands quicker that he expected.
Before he had wandered for long Hierarchy legionnaires had found him and read his death marks. He was bound for the Legion of Fate, apparently.
They weren't so bad, and life in the Legion seemed a darn sight better than in the other Legions from what he saw in the necropli , but it wasn't for him, and after a few months he went AWOL.
There were times when he almost felt at home in the lands of the dead, the Shadowlands were after all a place of storms and he found himself gifted with a natural talent for the Argos arcanoi. He survived by guiding those in need through the Tempest, or a maelstrom in emergencies.
Soon after this an older wraith by the name of Fairclough approached him, and he was inducted into the Harbringer's Guild.
They were his kindred spirits, figuratively and literally, and though the mystery of why and by whom he had been killed still burned within him it was under their guidance that Alastair Albern finished his first year in the Shadowlands and looked to the future.

◾ Mood: flirty
◾ Audio Input: Haujobb - Little World

◾ Tags:

19/02/2014 21:11

gregglinsky.livejournal.com

Pi Tsering(Long Life) earliest memory was only 10 years earlier when she awoke in a Himalayan cave. Knowing only her name and the scope of her abilities, her personal history is a complete mystery to her.

Since her awakening she has been plagued by an unnamed demon bent on twisting the innocent girl to his will. Driven by fear of becoming a tool of the demon she fled west on a quest for Golconda believing that the legendary state will free her of the demons attentions.

Pi is a young beautiful charming girl, who quickly found allies once arriving in Jerusalem. Her beauty, wisdom and gifts as a healer made her a desired guest of many the elite. However her dedication to the path of humanity and her quest for Golconda caused many of those with darker natures scorn affectionate nature.

pi1

◾ Tags:

07/02/2014 18:02

tractorb.livejournal.com

Rosabella Dunsirn, 35. (Clan Giovanni)

cassell2 lady

Born in Venice, Italy to the Giovanni family, 1848, Rosabella (Bella) has a very large extended family. Both parents died by the time she was in her mid-20s, but plenty of relatives remain to guide her path. She was brought up within the Giovanni clan, and made a ghoul in her mid 20s (1872??) (just after her arranged marriage), and was aware that there was a deep family secret, but her family wanted her to experience life and grow up a little before they informed her of the family’s real history. Brought up in very high society, Rosabella has always been interested in fashion, art and music. She was brought up slightly spoilt, as her family have a great deal of money, and she never wanted for anything.

1879.victorian.dresses.1880 Through her extensive network of aunts manoeuvrings, and family connections, she was introduced to Alistair Dunsirn when she was 19 (1867), there was instant attraction, and they married a year later (1868).

Wedding Photo

Rosabella was sent to Scotland to live with him, and gradually they fell in love. However, used to the climate in Italy she didn’t like the Scottish weather (too cold and wet) and found the area too rural (she liked the court life, fashion and social aspects of a metropolitan city).

casselll5 Alistair Dunsirn’s family already had businesses in London (they have them all over Britain), and he wanted to try his hand at banking in London (having always had a head for numbers), so they moved there in 1870. Brought up with a family obsession with medical matters and death, Rosabella persuaded her husband to buy up a chain of undertakers and morgues that she now oversees (though most of the running is left to the staff).

Unfortunately, although excelling as a banker etc,her husband was an alcoholic, and whenever he got very drunk he became abusive. One day (1873?) it went too far, when he was obsessing about lack of offspring, she hit him back with a poker in self-defence – accidentally killing him. She got the family undertakers to cover it up to the Dunsirn’s (he “fell downstairs”), and she still remained in morning for many years (she was in love with him despite his faults).

Victorian-Fashionable-Woman After her husband’s death she found that she started to see his ghost (and other ones too, once it started). Believing herself to be crazy due to the guilt and Alistair’s ‘ghost’s’ influence, she started to go insane, and as a result started smoking opiates in large quantities. Once her family realised this, however, (it took a while as she tried to cover it up) her favourite aunt from Italy (Great Aunt Lavinia, [pic left]) came over to intervene. She told Rosabella that ghosts do actually exist; she wasn’t going insane, that her family were very knowledgeable about them and had studied them for years. She recovered from the insanity, started studying the occult (from 1875), but the opium addiction continued. A few years later, fascinated with the subject of death, she became benefactor to several hospitals. As much as possible she witnessed death as she was very curious about the process of death & illness, even before her husband’s demise.

She collects death masks and keeps copies of many death photos. She has friends who work with the various undertakers, photographing the dead. They give her copies for her collection. She also has a fascination with fashion, and an interest in popular art and music:

◾ Tags:

05/01/2014 18:07

Mr Kottlevish,
This document should been delivered to you, sealed, by my solicitor or one of his descendants. The following details are concerned with my son, and childe, Oliver North. If you have this letter I have been missing for some time, or I have met the final death. I know my son too well to merely allow my business interests to pass to him in this circumstance, so you will gain full control of our concerns temporarily. Once a further fifty years have passed Oliver will then come fully into his inheritance, unless I reappear in that period of time and invoke the cancellation clause.

However, it is not these matters that are my primary concern. At time of writing Oliver has recently been introduced to our clan fully, after many years of preparation. If as I fear, you have had cause to receive this letter before I have had chance to revise it's contents then he is still a whelp in need of guidance and protection from himself and others.

Therefore I request that you take young Oliver under your wing, and indeed keep a close watch on his activities and associations. For this service I will be most grateful, assuming I have not in fact met my end. I would also add that this is not the only letter I have left for this eventuality, and so your obedience is as ever in your own best interests.

Now to help you with your task, there is enclosed up to date reports on Oliver's current whereabouts, associates and habits from my agent who keeps a close eye on my son.

To further aid you in your task, some short details of his life to give you some understanding of what you are dealing with.

The boy was largely raised by his mother. This may have been a mistake, and may account for some of his erratic tendencies. Still. When he was fourteen I tired of the woman, and I disposed of her and sent him to a school in Scotland. Despite getting himself expelled, which cost me some expense and time to correct, he received a good education of the sort a school can provide.

I instructed that he also begin his induction into the mysteries of the wider family, and so in his final years I arranged for a member of our long serving ghouled family, Percy Clarkeswarren, to be employed at the school to give the boy the necessary extra education to prepare him for his duties as a leader amongst our kind.

I had thought the damage done by his mother had been fixed by a good British education. I was however uncommonly wrong. Shortly after his twenty third birthday he slipped away from his watchers and disappeared. Eventually my agents were able to discern that he had bought passage on a clipper bound for Calcutta.

To skip some tedious detail, he was eventually caught. Clarkswarren eventually caught up with him in an opium den in some god forsaken place, Japan I think? Possibly Thailand? The details are unimportant. Somehow he'd gotten wrapped up with some kind of local underworld lowlifes, including whatever passes for a kindred in those parts as I understand. Again a great deal of money and effort was involved, but Oliver was dragged back to London to face his responsibilities.

Once safely reterned, he was passed through the proper rites and rituals and introduced to his blood inheritance.

I feel that he just needs a century or so to mature before he will be truely deserving of his name and clan. This is to be your principle task.

I have utmost faith in you.

Lord B. North.

◾ Tags:

30/04/2013 09:46

Character Background

Dr Franz Metternich was born in the Vorstadt district of imperial Vienna in the year 1843.
He was an only child.
His mother, Charlotte, was devoted to her son and husband, but died of cholera when Franz was but nine years old.
After this his father, Karl, a violinist with the orchestra at the K.K. Hofburgtheater, became cold and distant with his son. Never fully recovering from his wife's death he practiced hard during the day before working the evening performances late into the night, there was little time for much else.
This left Franz’s estranged aunt and uncle as his reluctant guardians much of the time, making the latter half of the boy’s childhood a strained and loveless affair from which the only escape was through his books.

Nevertheless, Franz was a clever boy, and for all his devotion to music his father at least recognized this fact. Karl’s years of hard work at the theatre had been for a reason.
By the time Franz came of age his father had finally saved enough to send his son to university and pay his fees. Though Franz did not find out until years later, this had been his one of his mother’s dying wishes.
Though he hailed from the lower middle classes Franz had no problem gaining entry into the Vienna University thanks to the high grades and glowing endorsements earned from teachers throughout his schooling.
He had always possessed a keen and curious mind well suited to the ever expanding frontier of the sciences, and it was to this that the young Franz now devoted himself.
Over the next few years Franz Metternich earned himself a prestigious Doctorate in Chemistry and Pharmacology, and made the acquaintance of a fellow student named Max Burckhard.
Max was in all of Franz’s classes and the two had much in common, becoming fast friends through the years of intense study that the renowned university demanded of its students.
After their graduation the two went into business together, opening a chemists and pharmacy with a small laboratory upstairs in Central Vienna.
As partners they soon began to turn a healthy profit with the shop, enough to fund their continued research into medicinal chemistry, some of which even went on to be published in the university journal.

It was after their experiments disproving mummy dust as a valid treatment for stomach ulcers that the two partners began their next, and last, project. The Near Death Serum.
Over time they had got to know many of the pharmacy's patrons and heard all too many stories of friends or relatives injured on the Italian battlefields and dying before doctors could reach them that Franz hit upon the idea of the Serum.
The object was to develop an injectable drug, administrable to those near death with the purpose of keeping them alive until they could receive the proper treatment. A shot of life, so to speak, for use in the direst of circumstances.
The road of experimentation would be a long and expensive one.
After years of work with animals and various costly compounds their final serum was composed of extracted bull adrenaline, hyoscyamine, and concentrated vitamin-C, to be injected directly into the patient's bloodstream.
It was during this time that Franz and Max came into contact with a man named Konrad Holzgethan.
They had seen him before, attending the regular the evening fundraisers and banquets thrown by the University for its donors, but it was during their work on the serum that he first approached them as a potential patron.
The man was clearly wealthy, educated, and possessed of a strong will. They never did find out the source of his wealth or even if he had studied at the university himself, but the partners did accept both his money and encouragement with little hesitation.

Though many a pig was lost along the way, most of their results had been encouraging.
At last they were ready to test the drug on a human subject. Failing an unhappy coincidence they could not yet test their serum on a true trauma victim and so they resolved that the first human test case should be one of them.
They were confident, perhaps overly so, but they knew their procedure would still be risky, and so in the end they simply flipped a coin to let chance decide which of them it would be, both vowing to abide by the result.
It came up heads and Max lost. The next night under the supervision of Franz Max took a high dose of Datura before being strapped down to their laboratory table. After a brief bout of intense screaming hallucinations Max's heart stopped and he fell silent.
Just as they had planned Franz moved quickly, administering physostigmine to counter the effects of the poison before filling a large syringe with the near death serum and injecting it into his partner's bloodstream close to the heart.
Max twitched, convulsing briefly before falling still and silent once more.
Franz waited, but nothing more happened. He pounded on Max's chest desperately yelling for him to wake up, but still nothing. The serum was a failure and his partner lay pale and lifeless on the table.
Knowing the failure would probably cost him his career at best, he unbuckled the straps from Max's body and closed his partner's eyes for the last time.
It was at exactly that moment that there came a knock from the door downstairs.
Despondent and upset Franz remained slumped in his chair, glass of red wine held limply in one hand. Max had not just been his partner, but also his friend. Their shared hubris though had cost them his life, but they had been so close, he was sure of it. Perhaps if the balance of ingredients was...
The knock, insistently, sounded again... Then again.
Franz could bear it no more and made his way down stairs, curious and angry in equal measure as to who would be hammering on the shop door at such an ungodly hour.
He unbolted the door and swung it open.
Heavily cloaked against the evening chill and with a knowing look in his eyes, stood Konrad Holzgethan.

Without quite knowing how, and quite against his intentions, Franz soon found himself letting the older man inside, leading him up to the laboratory and explaining what had gone wrong.
Herr Holzgethan looked down at Max's corpse without surprise, before asking Franz if he would continue with his work after such a set back.
Franz thought hard under his patron's steely gaze, before replying, tentatively, in the affirmative. Yes. He would continue with his work, despite the cost. It was the only way.
Konrad smiled, then put his hand on his shoulder saying that he was making the right choice. He offered continued help to Franz's research and business on one condition, that Franz attend a meeting tomorrow night of certain eminent gentleman and researchers such as himself, apparently known as the 'Tremere'. They were a group of people that could open many doors for him assured Konrad with a knowing air.
Franz agreed.
Bidding him good night his enigmatic patron left, boarding the stately carriage waiting outside in the evening fog and disappearing into the gloom.
Franz, his mind whirling with new possibilities, began to clear up the lab and prepare the shop for morning, almost forgetting the dead body of his former partner lying cold in the middle of the room.

photo DrFanzMetternichVAV_zps21e4ce80.jpg

◾ Mood: disappointed
◾ Audio Input: Minusbaby - A Large Part of Your Mind Sliced

◾ Tags:

05/04/2013 01:38

Francis John Makepeace, BA (21 April 1820 - ?? 1883), also known as Jack Makepeace, was a Shakespearean Thespian and Lieutenant (Army, Retired) .

Background and education

Makepeace was born some distance from the real money in the family. A couple of generations ago is all it takes to meet up with the Russell family and its wealth. His inheritance allowed to him live in modest comfort while enjoying his passions. He was educated at Westminster School and Oxford University, which he attended between 1838 - 1842 earning his degree in Politics.

The limelight

Makepeace reported feeling quite bored while studying the 'Eastern Question' one day and went for a walk around campus whereupon he encountered some students. They were an amateur group putting on a showing of Romeo and Juliet but due to severe illness it appeared as if they were going to be missing a Mercutio. Feeling a peculiar desire for novel experiences, Makepeace volunteered to learn the part.

It is clear that Makepeace's life was altered by that decision. In an attempt to 'spread the word' of the joys of acting he founded the Oxford University Dramatic society and he drew other curious and interested folk.

youngfrancis

He stayed on as a paid worker managing the OUDS for a year after earning his degree, supplementing the small pay with acting lessons. He auditioned for a number of companies, but initially without success. It wasn't long however, before he was noticed as he is recorded as being on the cast list of quite a large number of Burbage Theatre Company productions from 1844-1850.

Although he officially stopped working at Burbage in 1850 he still performed occasionally there for a number of years. Although they performed mostly modern plays, they would every now and then put on some Shakespeare. Critics were mostly complementary, 'Makepeace's Othello was completely natural and alive, utterly believable' - though some chided him for 'overacting'.

The rest of his acting career was spent with Red Ladder Theatre Company who specialized in unusual Shakespeare adaptations, often set in the modern industrial age or with some other twist. His Macbeth became moderately famous, but once he got to grips with Richard III and Hamlet, his fame truly grew.

In 1879 he played Senior Leonato as a one off for the newly formed Shakespeare company in Stratford upon Avon. After spending time with them during rehearsals he was inspired to start his own company. The Bond Street Theatre company officially opened on May 3rd, 1880 comprised mostly of the friends and colleagues he had worked with throughout his career.

Crimean War

victorianfrancis2

Once again he was taken by his craving of the novel. Fueled also by his grief at the passing of his wife, he bought a commission as a Lieutenant and went to war in 1854. Richard III's 'we band of brother's' also rang in his hears calling him to sign up to be one of the happy few. In the diary he kept at the time he wrote 'For the most part we wait and watch each other dying from corrupting illneses, trying not to think of the smell'. He avoided the front line, by design, and so he saw real combat only once, when Russian soldiers unexpectedly attacked and broke through British and French lines.

Once the war was over, he retired from service and returned to the theatre.

Family life

franciswedding

Makepeace married Myra Ribblesdale in 1841. Though she was pregnant several times she was only able to give birth to one living child, Edward who did not survive to his first birthday. Nevertheless Makepeace only ever spoke well of his marriage. Myra Makepeace died in 1854 of Cholera.

Makepeace's mother died when he turned 25 and his father committed suicide a month later. He commented once that they had been 'perfectly adequate parents of decent means'. Makepeace became a man of independent wealth as a result of the inheritance.

Death

It was initially thought that Makepeace died in 1883, though some of his close friends swear they have spoken with him recently.

Literature

Francis Makepeace penned a small number of his own plays and a novel before his apparent death.

Plays
The Crumbling Empire, a satire predicting the imminent and sudden demise of the British Empire
The Forsworn Laws, a thrilling political saga surrounding the circumstance that lead to the repeal of the Corn Laws in 1846.
Anger be your Song a humorous play which shows the futility of war and deals with the hypocrisies of human nature in a comedic fashion

Novel
A Free Union a symbolic story. On the face of it it tells of a young married couple growing old together and learning to adapt to each others idioscyncracies. Underneath that is an allegorical tale of the founding and building of the United States of America.

1883

Makepeace is trying to grow his company, but he first must get the talent he has up to the standards he wants so they will be able to pass their mastery down to any new members they might attract. And for that, something spectacular will have to be done...

francis

◾ Tags:

09/12/2012 15:19

Ri Xian was born in 1860 by the Western calendar, in the city of Kaifeng, one of China's seven ancient capitols.
He hailed from a middle class family of scholars, bureaucrats and devout Taosits.
For generations his family had served the empire as able administrators, progressing through the Confucian examination system and joining the Qing civil service.
Xian was no different. Studying hard he passed his exams with flying colors and joined the legal advisers to the Governor of Hunnan Province, before eventually becoming a judge in his home city.
In his 40th year the western calendar passed its millennium and Xian, though he still harbored ambitions of one day being promoted to the Imperial court, thought his life had now adopted its final shape.
All was not as it seemed though, from his position in the civil bureaucracy Xian was in the perfect position to witness the slow disintegration of Chinese society beneath corruption and Western pressure. His once beloved wife was now nothing but a distant and reclusive opium addict, generals were becoming Warlords, and many of his fellow judges handed down harsher sentences, or let the guilty walk free for the right amount.
When the Xinhai Revolution broke and his home city fell under the yoke of a parade of warlords not even Ri Xian could stay above the corruption anymore.
Xian's father, a Taoist priest residing in a nearby monastery, condemned his son's fall from morality, and died with shame for him in his heart.
Ri Xian eventually met his fate at point of a blade wielded by the vengeful brother of a revolutionary he had condemned to a firing squad on a general's orders. The man had been guilty of nothing more than distributing political leaflets.
In 1920, at the age of 60, Ri Xian died, and having brought shame on his family in his final days, was dragged down into the Yomi worlds to pay for his immorality.
His soul languished there for a time, tortured, until his Po summoned the will to escape, clawing its way back up to the material world and into his lifeless body.
When he emerged from his tomb and returned to his home city he found violence on its streets once again, this time yet more factions had arisen and Nationalists were fighting Communists. In the grip of his Po Xian sank his teeth into many a young soldier in those first blood soaked nights, but before too long he was taken in by a group of his fellow Kue-Jin and taught to follow the dharma of the Resplendent Crane to keep his darker energies in check.
In the beginning Xian was driven more than anything by the need to atone for the sins that had sent him to Yomi, thus in the chaos of civil war he stalked the city, dealing harshly with the corrupt wherever he found them, showing absolutely no toleration, and often punishing immorality with death.
As superstitious mortals began to speak of him in fearful tones Ri Xian ceased to use his family name, and became known simply as Xian Kaifeng.
Soon however the fighting grew too fierce for even the Kue-Jin to exist in the midst of, and Xian Kaifeng withdrew from the city of his birth with the Nationalists, eventually settling in Taiwan where the old traditions were safe from the Cultural Revolution that followed Communist victory on the mainland.
Xian spent much of his time there in mediation and a deeper study of his dharma at the feet of Resplendent Cranes older and wiser than he, and though his days of openly dispensing vengeful summary justice were in the past his goal of true inner balance and toleration still eluded him.
Decades later Xian Kaifeng decided to journey out from his adopted home of Taiwan, in search of experiences in the greater world. They would take him to Tokyo, Hong Kong, Bhutan, America, and even the Wicked City of Mikaboshi. In need of allies he even joined a Wu of mixed dharmas, and on more than one occasion they had been all that stood between each other and final death.

Now Xian spends the majority of his time in Hong Kong, following the instructions of the Blood Court in Beijing, and working with his Wu to try and stop the growing influence of the Yama Kings in this world.

8ebdbd0de7184f4011965eea3050b1ae-d31ikf9

◾ Mood: nerdy
◾ Audio Input: Chung Kuo - A Spring Day At The Edge Of The World

◾ Tags:

09/12/2011 17:44

Penthu

It was tough. Buying supplies, and keeping up to date with the latest knowledge. Whether it was great engineering works or warfare - the services of a physician were necessary but sometimes taken for granted. Nevertheless I did that which I loved. Using the tools the gods gave us to heal the sick and help the wounded.

But the precarious balance of investing in information and equipment was not always to balance in my favour. Eventually I found myself in debt and it seemed that whatever work I was able to find would only result in more debt for my family. I had a responsibility to them, so I made an arrangement with my creditors. They would cancel my debt for my exclusive services, and the services of my son.

Slavery was not at all bad - indeed it turned out to be the finest decision I had made. It was no longer my concern whether I could afford to acquire the latest knowledge or pay for the right herbs or salves. Furthermore, my creditors had fine contacts and soon I found myself in the service of a physician who tended to the noble - even to those of royal heritage, mixing unguents and preparing for surgery. Since nobility only wanted the finest care, and were willing to pay for it, I was able to teach much to my son.

Pragmatic and well traveled, Penthu has a fine understanding of human affairs, both internal and external. He enjoys a good joke, but is nevertheless often in a sombre mood. His life is for the benefit of his family, he is not vain or selfish. However, his family loyalties can blind him to his greater duties, and if anyone wanted to corrupt him, promises of comfort or happiness for his wife and children would be the way.

Neoptolomos 'Paul' Polychronopoulos

There are many reasons to enjoy body modification. And there are even reasons to do it that are nothing to do with enjoyment. I was always in the latter group. My body didn't strike me as a canvas, but instead as a monstrosity. Too fat, too pasty - it was generally disgusting.

Just because I'd go for days without eating, or throw up when I did - my friends thought I should seek medical attention. They were trying to take away from me the only pleasure I had: looking at my body and seeing something different than I'd grown accustomed to. Whether it was seeing myself weigh less today than I had done for years, or if it was a new design, or the whisky that blurred the lines and made everything seem more acceptable.

I had discovered my talent for art at high school, but it wasn't until I'd had my first tattoo, a rather innocent and quaint Tazmanian Devil on my ankle, that I knew it was to become my vocation. And life was basically bearable once I had left the judgement-fest that was high school. I opened up my own shop, first in Chios but as my reputation grew I moved to the big city, Athens.

With the money from owning a shop in the main centre of Athens, I was able to travel a lot more - go to conventions and learn so much about my art. As with many tatooists I started piercings and implants as well as other more unusual body mods. I enjoyed my life, but I still hated my body.

I guess I knew when I walked in, but I didn't care. I was going to get a cool toe tat done, make it look like the nose of a WWII plane with the teeth and stuff. The place was filthy, dark and damp. Any person that cared about their own personal safety would have run a mile the moment they took a look at the place. What the fuck though, they couldn't make my body any more abhorrent could they? It turns out the artistry was rather good, and as a freebee I got a local pattern done on my other ankle.

It's difficult to know for sure. Maybe it was my drinking habit, maybe it was hep C, but eventually my disregard for my own health lead to liver failure and death.

Not exactly brilliant (low on detail, places, dates etc) but it's as good as I've been able to get it.

◾ Mood: hyper

◾ Tags:

28/11/2011 18:08

( Clicky )

◾ Tags:

background,
mummy

14/10/2011 17:24

Edwin Price - scholar, traveler, explorer, writer, borderline alcoholic, consumer of exotic hallucinogens, anthropologist.
Born and raised in Parks Australia, Ed graduated from Auckland University in New Zealand before making his career on some 17 anthropological field expeditions documenting isolated and remote tribes.
From Papua to Rapa Nui, the Amazon Basin and the Himalayas, he always tried to live as the tribe lived, hunt as they hunted, perform their rituals alongside them and see the world through their eyes.
The only way to truly understand them was to be them, he often explained to only vaguely interested people.
Ed had always had an open mind, but some of these trips had opened his mind more than he could have ever imagined.
Between the often lengthy research trips he mainly wrote papers and lectured on behalf of the universities for which he worked.
Now at a travelworn 37 Edwin remains unmarried, though with many good friends and colleagues scattered around the world.
He published his first book 2 years ago, "Outside of Time" a personal travelogue of his time with the tribes, to the acclaim of the few that read it.

It was during research for his second book that, now funded by Boston University, he undertook to go and live alone with one of the smaller tribes on Laulasi Island out in the Solomons.
It started as most of his field trips invariably did, the local guide arranged by the university met him at the airport, and then led him, first by car and then by boat out into Langa Langa Lagoon. Eventually they reached the the group he was to stay with, the Ta'alulolo, and the guide said goodbye.
They were a small group of subsistence fishermen and gatherers who were vaguely aware of the outside world yet had had little contact with it. They gave him one of their small reed huts to sleep in and he found that he could just about communicate with them using his knowledge of other Pacific Islander tongues, though their dialect was strange to him and contained many words that he had never heard before, words he could not pronounce.
They let him film them with his camcorder and led him into their spirit house. Inside there the collected skulls of their past priests resided, some of the older ones seemed strangely deformed and the tribesmen seemed reluctant to answer questions about them. Must be some kind of "taboo" he thought as he continued to write his notes.
Soon he was learning their unique fishing techniques, and in doing so he saw that the Ta'alulolo could hold their breath for an exceedingly long time while diving. An adaptation they must have developed over time he mused.
But there was something else about them, they had none of the joviality or joyeux de vivre he had come to expect from these island cultures, instead they were quiet, sullen, almost secretive and with few children.
He took part in their late night lunar rituals with them by the shore, danced and chanted with them, drank their noxious sacred drink and explored the hallucinations beyond, but after several weeks with them there came an experience that he would not soon forget.
It was very late, almost morning when a grass skirted tribesman with a tall spear and wide eyes woke him after several hours sleep.
He walked with them down to the shore line as fires were lit and large amounts of the ritual drink handed around as the drumming began in time with the rushing of the waves rolling in from the dark ocean.
This time it hit him like a sledgehammer, his vision blurring yet brightening he felt a surge of energy to his limbs yet a loss of control over them. He danced and sang with others until something changed in them. Their yells grew more intense as they span about him, their faces twisting and changing into bizarre mixtures of man and sea creature.
Edwin felt him self grow afraid and the Ta'alulolo raised their hands to the stars as their voices changed and then before his astonished eyes walked out into the sea, the lapping ocean waves closing around them as they disappeared without so much as a look behind them.
He remained shivering on the beach until he heard a great noise from the watery depths. Terrified, Ed then passed out cold and woke the next day with the mother of all hangovers.
There was no sign of the tribe, they had gone. The old, the children, the men, the women. Where their few huts were only blackened embers remained, and no canoes were tethered by the waterline. There was almost no trace of them left at all.
Having no choice, he hiked for miles to the other side of the island, the friendly locals there gave him water and food, but knew nothing of the group he had lived with for the past three weeks. When he eventually got back to the main island he could find no more trace of the guide that had led him out there than he could tribe that had taken him in.
He booked a flight home and drank himself into a stupor until it was time to leave the Solomon Islands. Who were those strange and ancient people? and what the hell had happened to them? What the hell had happened to him...
These questions would continue to haunt him, for no answers were to be found and nightmares were often his companion when he slept.

Rest, relaxation, and recuperation were in order, and so after reporting back to Boston he took a flight to London. He would stay in the old house his parents owned there, collect his thoughts and try to forget his troubles...

◾ Mood: mischievous
◾ Audio Input: Camanecroszcope - Ancient Voices Haunt The Deep

◾ Tags:

30/07/2010 16:22

Book of Anarius

( Click for the full text )

◾ Mood: gloomy

◾ Tags:

20/06/2010 03:14

Stibor Vlaszy Bogdanov

Basic history
Born in 1001 to a minor noble Vlaszy family who had recently married into the Bogdanov family which had its lands in Pomorie, Bulgaria (a beach town North of Burgas, jutting out into the Black Sea). Stibor was a younger son, and wasn't likely to inherit his father's lands. But the unique 'status' of the Vlaszy family guaranteed Stibor a small fief and a knight's stipend...and obligations. But the Battle of Salonica was to decide the inheritance - his father being killed there by Byzantine forces under Basil the Butcher. His eldest brother, Bogdan, took over as Boyar.

The Byzantines would continue the occupation until well after Stibor's death, and he would only get two chances as a mortal (but not human, Stibor had never known what it was to be human) to fight them:- the first was at The Battle of Dyrrhachium, which was a crushing defeat. Even Bogdan could see that the Byzantines could not be stopped and he joined with the other nobles in surrender...handing in their titles of boyar and instead becoming strategoi.

The second chance came in 1040 at the Battle of Ostrovo - led by Emperor Peter the blind. Another defeat at the hands of the Byzantines! Curse their Varangian Guard!

It was Lady Kara that ordered Stibor to Jerusalem for the Crusade, by that time of course Stibor was 'dead' and his fiefdom passed to his son, Stibor. Under a competent (but Byzantine) general, Stibor's capabilities were exploited to their fullest and he earned for himself a reputation as a fierce but honourable warrior. Although he suffered a mortal arrow wound while helping citizens to escape a skirmish, he miraculously survived and this was taken as a sign by his men and comrades - cementing his reputation further. But such was not his purpose - Kara wanted Stibor to act on her behalf on a small issue of diplomatic contact with a newly embraced Baron Heinrich von Achern...who seemed to be merely a difficult - but nevertheless likeable, neonate. Also Kara wanted an eye on several Byzantine notables who had set their mind to Danube based territories for themselves.

The arrow might have wounded him - but what Stibor saw at Jerusalem scarred even his tarnished soul.

When Lady Kara visited Stibor in Pomorie, 1145, Stibor had wrestled control of the next 'generation' of Bogdanov strategoi from his brothers using the political and martial skills honed in the Holy Lands. Another Crusade had been called, and again she wanted Stibor there, and again Stibor would be talking with Baron von Achern, but this time the negotiations would be hostile. The two of them talked over the next few nights of Chivalry in theory and in practice - and Lady Kara left with a hint that if he could live up to the principles he had so passionately advocated while in the Holy Lands, she may have seriously consider the Embrace. Stibor was taken aback - having never dreamed a Knight/low-Boyar of a backwater fishing town might become Tzimisce.

The talks with von Achern went as successfully as the Second Crusade - but Lady Kara was impressed with Stibor's courage and honour around the table and on the field. For fifteen years Stibor began to run errands, play host to various Cainite emmisaries. He loathed doing it, but his respect for Lady Kara had turned into a love. She was the perfect counterpart to him - and he was confident she would see it.

So confident indeed, that he proposed marriage to her in April of 1160. Kara was furious, so furious that she lost control of herself and she beat Stibor over and over again before slaking her thirst on his blood. Little did Stibor know that her frenzy was caused by a confrontation between her chivalrous principles and the bestial inhumanity of the blood bond. She regained composure in time to avoid killing him outright - but only just. It became clear that death was unavoidable for Stibor and he fought for every breath.

http://pics.livejournal.com/mod/pic/0002fec2

The death of Stibor Bogdanov

Kara offered Stibor eternal unlife as compensation for killing him, for which she also begged forgiveness, ashamed as she was for her outburst. Stibor's guilt and embarassment burned him as his life ebbed away - that he had caused Lady Kara to enter a frenzied emotional state, to cause her the pain of guilt; he would do whatever it took in order to ease her burden. But she had not finished. Rustovich had been clear that she was to ensure the Bulgarian Vlaszy contingency were bound by the blood to her. Stibor remembered agreeing as a youth to be bound, but had thought little of it since. If he wanted the embrace, Kara continued, he'd have to agree to continue the oath beyond the veil of death - to do otherwise would interfere with Rustovich's plans. The Oath would last no more than a century, and would be terminated upon Lady Kara initiating the Rite of Release.

Stibor gladly accepted the terms, and painlessly found death delivered to him. The change was not so pleasant.

Not able to claim the title Voivode yet, Stibor passed position of strategoi to his eldest brother and entered the full time service of Lady Kara as an Ashen Knight. What followed seemed like endless travelling to him. Lady Kara wanted that he establish himself in the Holy Lands, and so he headed to Jerusalem. Surrounded by unknown powers, and still struggling with his own - he began to seek allies in the city. He soon found himself a modest house in the city, and dug out a small basement/grave lined with Pomorie soil. He would, however, find himself regularly travelling to meet Lady Kara or her agents to exchange news and renew the Oath.

Lady Kara gave him autonomy to get involved during the Uprising of Asen and Peter in 1185 despite the precarious connection to Hungarian politics at stake; he gladly bloodied his hands against the forces of Isaac II Angelus. But while he was taking care of domestic affairs, Jerusalem was falling to Salladin. Stibor returned to try to find his allies and to witness his third Crusade.

◾ Mood: lonely

◾ Tags:

background,
chivalry,
fiends,
jerusalem,
lady kara vlaszy-lupescu,
son of bogdan,
the grand court,
thrice crusaded,
tzimisce,
unspeakable fiendery,
vampire: the dark ages,
varangian guard,
vladimir rustovich the voivode among voi,
vlaszy revenants

05/02/2010 01:37

propheticwalnut.livejournal.com

Serafina was born on the 22nd of November 1163 to an upper class family on the island of Malta. She grew up in luxury, although her parents left her and her two elder brothers to be raised mostly by nannies. From an young age her brothers would often tease Serafina, but it wasn't long before she was managing to get the better of them, and they soon stopped, or at least it greatly reduced in frequency as they always came out worst. Occasionally Serafina's parents would hold, or go out to, a dinner party, during which she had to stay out of the way. Eventually Serafina was old enough to be taken along and left in the childrens room with the children of many of the other nobles that were present. During that night Serafina noticed that there were two distinct groups formed in the room, the smaller group was formed from the children of the Arabs that had remained on Malta after the County of Sicily took the island from them. Some of the other children would sneer at the Arabs and mutter things about them under their breath but most just ignored their presence as they seemed a very insular group. It didn't take long before Serafina couldn't continue to ignore the Arab children and went to talk to them. Before long they were laughing and joking and soon afterwards the two groups came together. There were some of the children that weren't fond of the new state of affairs but everyone else was getting along so well nothing came of it. Over the following years Serafina found that she spent a lot of time associating with the Arab children, in the process learning their language and developing a knowledge of their religious texts.

When she became more mature Serafina was taken to learn proficiency with certain arms. Initially she was taken to learn archery, but this didn't lead to anything as Serafina didn't have sufficient strength to pull a bow properly. Afterwards she was taken to learn use of the sword, but again she was too weak to be able to wield it properly. This left two options for martial training; firstly she could learn to use a dagger, secondly she could learn to fight unarmed. With a great deal of effort Serafina convinced her father that it would be better for her to study unarmed combat as that way she would never be reliant upon having a dagger to hand to be capable of defending herself. The European styles of combat that were present were not particularly appropriate as they were largely reliant upon the fighters strength, so the father of one of Serafina's Arab friends was able to arrange for her to learn an Arabic style of combat. In time Serafina became quite proficient in it.

At the age of 14 Serafina was taken to meet her future husband as her parents had arranged a marriage with a 16 year old noble, called Roger, that was from a part of what had formerly been the Duchy of Apulia and Calabria a few decades earlier but was now a part of the Kingdom of Sicily. The pair instantly liked each other and frequently wrote to each other during the period prior to their marriage the following year. After marriage, the pair lived on a small holding in Apulia as Roger didn't stand to inherit much, the marriage had been an entirely political arrangement for the benefit of his and Serafina's elder siblings, so when Roger was offered a significantly larger piece of land and an associated title that his brother didn't want in the Holy Land it was gladly accepted. Whilst preparing for the trip Serafina studied French, and helped Roger learn Arabic so by the time they set out a couple of months later they were each capable of holding a conversation with anyone in the region.

Upon arriving in the Holy Land, Serafina and Roger found that their land was located in Oultrejordain, far South of Jerusalem, bordering Muslim territory. Upon arriving in their barony they discovered that it was in a terrible state of affairs, requiring a great deal of effort to get everything properly organised. Roger did a fantastic job of getting the finances in order and dealing with the Europeans on the land whilst Serafina dealt with the Arabs. After a couple of years it was running far smoother than any other holding in Oultrejordain, and was more prosperous than many of the larger Baronies. During this period of prosperity Serafina became pregnant twice, although the first pregnancy ended with a miscarriage. The second pregnancy resulted in the birth of a son on the 23rd of December 1184, he was called Tancred.

Late one midsummer night in 1185 Serafina recieved word informing her that there had been a skirmish with bandits and during the fighting Roger had taken a fatal blow to the head. Serafina was distraught as, although the marriage had been arranged for political gain, she deeply loved Roger. She did not, however, spend too much time grieving as she knew that doing so for would cause problems in the barony, and so chose to honour Roger's memory by seeing that his land and his people continued to prosper. This came to an end only months later when the land was lost in a border skirmish. Without Roger, Serafina was unable to sufficiently defend her territory, and it's prosperity made it an appealing target. Serafina managed to escape with Tancred, taking a reasonable amount of valuables also, to Segor, before soon moving on to Jerusalem.

During her time in Jerusalem, Serafina met a man called Tomasso De Brexianno and gradually fell in love with him. She wasn't fond of one of his friends, a strange man that reminded Serafina of someone that seemed to have been following her in Malta before she was married, but didn't think it could possibly be the same person, given that about a decade had passed and the man that had been following her would've looked much older now. Thankfully he was only around very infrequently and never stayed very long. After almost two years, Jerusalem fell to the forces of Salah ad Din. Serafina donated all her money to help pay the ransom for those that couldn't afford it and was left with little more than food and clothing. Following the surrender Serafina heard nothing from Tomasso and assumed that he had been killed during the fighting. During the subsequent journey to Tyre, Tancred fell ill and passed away.

When Serafina arrived at Tyre she turned to the Church for support spiritually, and in return assisted caring for the temples. As time passed Serafina came to realise that the Catholic faith no longer represented her beliefs and found a Coptic priest to convert. Soon afterwards Serafina heard some news that was the best she had had for a while, Tomasso had been seen with Guy's forces heading to Acre, and so set out to look for him. When she caught up with them Serafina begin trying to find Tomasso but couldn't find him, by the time she realised he wasn't there it was too late, Salah ad-Din had them surrounded. The following two years were not pleasant as the conditions were terrible, with disease rampant. Eventually reinforcements came and Serafina spotted Tomasso on one of the ships that had brought them. With some effort she managed to get onto the ship and spent the whole night talking to Tomasso, who went to bed a short time before the sunrise. Just before he did retire he suggested that Serafina stayed up long enough to watch the sunrise, she got the impression that it was important to him, that it was something to be remembered so she did although didn't realise the significance until the following night.

The following day Serafina arose very late with the sun low in the sky, giving the sky a beautiful red hue, as if a counterpoint to the sunrise that she had witnessed earlier. When Tomasso arose they started talking again and he asked about the sunrise that morning, which Serafina described in detail, before moved on to describing the sunset that had followed. Tomasso sat listening, clearly taking in every detail, appearing almost refreshed by it. Afterwards he said that he had something to ask Serafina. As she had thought that he was leading up to a marriage proposal Serafina was shocked by what Tomasso actually asked. After offering her the embrace, Tomasso went on to inform Serafina that it was a tradition of his clan that potential childe be offered the embrace rather than have it forced upon them, and that she would have that night to decide. He went on to tell her that it was also a tradition of his clan to test potential childe prior to the embrace, adding that he had been watching her since before she was married and that he had arranged the death of Roger. Upon hearing this Serafina ran to the cabin she had been allocated and locked herself in. Several hours passed before she emerged, and sent a message for Tomasso, requesting that he joined her. When he arrived Serafina told him her answer; yes.

During the following month the mortal Europeans were preparing to end the siege of Acre and Serafina, aboard ship, was learning what she needed to know for her new existence. Once the siege was over some of the Europeans returned to their own lands, Tomasso and Serafina went some of the way with them, to the Kingdom of Sicily. The purpose of this journey was twofold, Serafina was being taken to be presented to the elders of Clan Lasombra and, following Tomasso's advice she was taking a new identity. After a stop in Malta Serafina was no more, she was now Demiana, a Maltese Coptic Christian of Arabic descent. In Sicily Demiana learnt a great deal, but eventually she returned to the Holy Lands alongside Tomasso.

Although she loved Tomasso, Demiana joined a group of neonates in Outremer in order to avoid being totally dependant upon him.

Demiana appears to be in her mid twenties 5' 2" tall with a very slim build, raven hair, olive skin and brown eyes. Her style of dress is like a less extravagant version of Sibylla from Kingdom of Heaven (see picture), only with a more layered effect and more flared sleeves, creating plenty of shadows within the clothing and making her build not appear quite as slim as it really is.

◾ Mood: thankful

◾ Tags:

11/07/2009 04:31

propheticwalnut.livejournal.com

An overheard conversation between Ivy and an Eldritch Society colleague.

So you want to know about my past? Well I suppose I can trust you. I was born on the Nazzadi fleet less than a year before the end of the war, I don't remember it though. When the war ended my family was placed in a small town down south. Back then I was called Kory. My dad was a mechanic and that was where he was able to get work. At the time my mother was still pregnant with my little brother Vora. She had been a pilot during the war, one of the best. Which, given the circumstances, was something we kept quiet about. There were only two other Nazzadi familes in those parts, I was quite lucky that one of them had a girl about my age. Her name was Tazy. The two of us were as thick as thieves, if you'll pardon my expression. Having already met long before we first went to school.

It wasn't until I was at school that I realised people treated Nazzadi different. Must've been bullied by about half the class, and in all the time there I only had five teachers that really made a proper effort to stop it. It probably didn't help too much that I seemed to spend more time in the nurses station than the playground since I was fighting off a particular group of three people all the time. As a result I didn't have many friends other than Tazy. In a sense though I was fairly lucky, Tazy's big brother seemed to get it much worse than me.

I was 11 when the Migou came. It was then that people found out that my mom had been a pilot. Given the circumstances there wasn't a single person that took offence. It was arranged that we would move to Nazza-Duhni a few months later. During that short period was probably the best time I had at school all my life. I was actually sad to be leaving when we set off for the port. Partway through the journey I remember there was a massive panic with people running all over the place. Don't remember what went down that day though as the next thing I remember is waking up sat in a lifebelt with a pounding headache. There wasn't another soul in sight. I could just about make out land on the horizon so I half paddled, half drifted in that direction. I didn't know it at the time, but it turns out that was one of the very first EOD attacks that took place.

When I hit land I just started walking. Don't recall where I was headed, if I was even headed anywhere, I just walked. Must've been about noon when I came upon a town. Some kind folk took me in and gave me some fresh clothes and something to eat then started asking me if I was lost. So I told them about the ship. It had been on the news that a whole bunch of ships had disappeared mysteriously over the past two days. Then they left me alone for a short time, turns out that they had gone to contact the authorities about me, and had arranged for the neighbours daughter to look after me in the meantime. I remember thinking that I didn't want to be a bother and that I should just head off whilst they were away so that I wouldn't cause a problem for them. So I set off again. As I was leaving I could see big towers off in the distance. At that point I hadn't actually seen anything like that other than on TV so I decided that I would go and see them up close.

It was pretty late when I got to the city, having already started to turn dark. I didn't have anywhere to stay so I just found a spot in an alley by a warm vent and dozed off. It was still dark when I was woken up by a Nazzadi, who must've been about 18 at the time. He was asking me all manner of questions about why I was there. Anyway I told him about the ship and he took me back to a small warehouse. Turns out though he wasn't decent folk like the town people, but I didn't find that out until it was too late. He was part of a small gang of criminals. Not the sort that did anything big, but just big enough to get paid without attracting too much interest from the law. It wasn't long before they had me helping them out with jobs. At first I was a lookout. Since I've been young looking all my life noone really paid much attention to me, so it worked pretty well. I never liked doing it, but if I didn't work I didn't eat. Just like my dad had always said. At first they always kept an eye on me to make sure I didn't run off to the police since they knew I didn't like doing that sort of thing. I never did because I didn't want to get locked up somewhere.

After a while they even had me going out stealing things to order, and I was darned good at it too. That was around the time that they were starting to try and scale the operation up a bit. We had new people trying to join the gang quite often, though not too many were accepted since the boss always said it was easier to stay hidden if we were small. The most people that were ever there at any one time was 14. I never got along with any of them though since I couldn't understand why anyone would actually want to live like that. So I spent most of the time with my own company and no other. A bit like back at school, only this time I didn't have Tazy.

It wasn't until I was 17 that things changed. Now I should point out that the boss made an effort to avoid getting involved in anything arcane. Said that the OIS was too much trouble, but this time he hadn't realised that that is what it was. I was the one that was sent out for it, and eventhough I didn't make a mistake, I got caught. At the time it seemed peculiar what happened, given that I just suddenly became paralysed for a few minutes, but now I know what it was. He was a Tager, called Jasper, that had been guarding the box whilst staying invisible. Anyhow, after he got me properly secured he started asking me all manner of questions. So I told him my story, and he went off to check on some records to find out if I was telling the truth. He came back comparing me to an old picture that was taken as a record for when I was due to emigrate to Nazzi-Duhni, and concluded that I was who I said I was. It was then that he offered me a deal. He wanted me to lead him to the person that wanted what was in the box, and in return he would get me some decent work so I wouldn't have to keep stealing. I took the offer since it was better than getting turned over to the OIS, but at the time I didn't trust him. He gave me a replica of the box, which contained a tracking device, to take to the buyer. Well I held up my end of the bargain, and was very surprised when he did the same. Turns out he actually gave a damn about me. He sent me off to New York with new identity papers and had a job lined up helping the police track down gangs.

I spent almost 4 years with the police, doing all I could to help them. It was then that I was approached by a familiar face. Jasper came with a new job offer, this time with the Eldritch Society, where I went through the Rite of Sacred Union. After that, well, you know the rest.

◾ Tags:

24/05/2009 18:39

neuromantix.livejournal.com

Son of Of Hungarian aristocrat in exile, Maximilian spent much of his youth fleeing across Europe from the animate plague, his mother and young brother were killed in front of him by animates before an undertaker,fetched by his father snatched him away. He and his father eventually settled in London.Maximilian was a restless youth and would sneak away from his fathers manse in Kensington to the west end and other more seedy areas. Soon he was in with somewhat nefarious circle of friends gambling drinking and whoring. He grew his moustache to tremendous proportions and started to take on some of the more crass forms of speech much to his fathers dismay. He soon was well known among the various outposts of iniquity in central London.

After a number of publicised disgraces and endless stream of late nights sir Blownsburg throws Maximilian out on his ear. Despite all his debauchery Maximilian excels in galvanics, which he studies at the royal institute. Maximilian hope to master the powerful forces of it so he can somehow destroy and erases the memories of his mother and brothers faces as they were consumed by the animate horde, he harbours hopes of joining the undertakers . Though homeless Maximilian father continues to give him a monthly stipend , being the only son and his father cannot bare to cut him off completely.

One night Maximilian, intoxicated on opium and absinthe begins to hallucinate animates everywhere he ends up in a brawl with a doorman, arrested he spends a month in prison where he is approached by anarchist factions a man named John fee teaches him some methods of making home-made explosives and some endurance and fighting techniques, the anarchist cause believes his knowledge in galvanics might be useful, Maximilian by now a disenfranchised and reckless and feckless young man with a mild death wish is somewhat enamoured by the cause..

Once out of prison continues to receive support from his elderly father the sir blownsburg, asnd with his fathers assistance nd he sets up as an undertaker.utrestless and feckless, tactless and fearless, Maximilian goes from inn to inn hiring out his services often drunk or on opium he relies on his mordant charm and physical persuasion to get the jobs he wants, not to mention his networks of contacts some he's know from youth, like Mc Gregory a East End Cheat and knave , and Grondatious Frond the captain of sow street rogues. He is of passing acquaintance to Hugh Jenkins whom he worked with on occasion. Of late Maximilian has taken to poetry and often recites lines whilst he works and ideas come into his head, his verses are often filled with grim humour.

(somewhat changed from the original, name subject to possible change may to shift some things around on the sheet.)

◾ Mood: Mildue
◾ Audio Input: /me np: Prurient & Kevin Drumm - There Died Venus "All Are Guests In The House Of The Lord"[yr:2007

◾ Tags:

background,
donda

02/05/2009 19:31

neuromantix.livejournal.com

Vereta was abandoned by his mother at aged 8,when she left to join the Congregation of the earth mother, his father a military ma was a dedicated solider.not having much time for the young Vereta. After attending boarding school Veretta joined the military,joining the marine force he was deployed around the world. His last action was in australia attempting to stem the rampage of the rapine there. He and his unit were thrust into the front lines against the rapine storm, much of brigade was wiped out and he was scarred by the bloody events physically and emotionally.

He spent some time in mental hospital, he met ex members of the church of all there and began to learn something of dark and arcane arts. After getting out he dedicated himself to learning all he could of the cults and the mystic arts, his memories of his mother coming back to him sometimes and he believed he was following in her spirit. He set up as a security man at first but eventually as he built up contacts he moved into the field of private investigation.

He solved a case involving an police chief who had being blackmailed/indoctrinated into by the Dionysus club, and was seizing and traffic contraband (drugs illegal arcano tech) for them.

During the long investigation the dionysus club moved against him using dream magicians against by plaguing him with nightmares and trying subtle dream alterations.
Vreta managed to pull through however and took down the chief, making it the biggest case he`s landed.

Vereta as string of unsuccessful relationships behind and a penchant for a whiskey, he like to ride his bike hard and fast. Up to ears in debt he takes each day as it comes hoping for a big score, and maybe retire to some quite part of world , though these days it seems like finding such a place is getting more and more difficult...

◾ Audio Input: 15 Delights Of Dionysus - Artifact 4 "The Nightmare Muzeum"[yr:2001 genre:Ambient]

◾ Tags:

26/04/2009 03:37