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A few histories~ [Nov. 2nd, 2003|01:19 pm]

Saying GoodbyeCollapse )

Feelings Not ErasedCollapse )
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Astraphael [Oct. 18th, 2003|12:11 am]

Name: Prospero/Astraphael
The man known as Prospero goes where ever there is an opportunity to spill human blood. He travels the world as mercenary and assassin seeking conflict, and where none is convenient, he does everything in his power to create it. None who fight against him live to see another sunrise, and not even all who fight on his side are spared from his wrath. Though not all agree on exactly what the limits of his power is, rumors have arisen amongst fellow mercenaries that he is, in fact, some sort of demon in human guise. Just the mention that he is fighting on the opposite side is enough to make some mercenaries desert their post.

The rumors about Prospero's demonic nature are not far from the truth-- he is actually a fallen angel. He was once named Astraphael, and was a noble and kind angel of justice. However, as eons went by and he bore witness to the ceaseless slaughter that mankind visited upon itself, Astraphael lost his faith in the goodness of humans. When the innocent Kerard was killed, he could no longer tolerate the wickedness of man and Astraphael judged them to be unworthy of existing. He set about the task of annihilating humanity. The other angels determined that he had gone insane and did battle with him to prevent his apocalypse from coming to pass. Astraphael was outnumbered by his brethren and subdued after a titanic conflict. His wings were torn from his body and hurled down to the earth and Astraphael himself was exiled from Heaven until the day he could reclaim his sundered wings.

Now he has set about the task of finding his lost wings, all the while gathering the souls of the wicked men he slays into the sword he carries at his side but never draws. Once he finds his wings, he will draw his sword once again and unleash all of the power it stores upon the earth. Recently, he took steps to further this goal by releasing the Eternal, Nvrehl from centuries of imprisonment.

Physical Description
Prospero has altered his once glorious angelic beauty as to fit in better amongst human kind. His hair is brown and short and his golden eyes shine with a chilling look that none can forget... all who look into his eyes can see that he considers them to be hardly worth the time it takes to kill them. Aside from his eyes, there are two distinguishing physical features that he cannot change. The first is a pair from scars on his back from when his wings were ripped from his body. The second is the tattoo of his angelic choir that lies on the back of his neck.

Prospero was once one of the mightiest beings in existence, however, his powers have shrunken considerably since he was cast from Heaven. He is still a force to be reckoned with, however. Few supernatural beings, and no mortal known to him can match even his weakened abilities.
Immortality: Prospero does not age. Violence can still do him in though.
Regeneration: Any wound would that is not instantaneously fatal will eventually be completely healed. This normally takes several days from more severe injuries, however, if he focuses and expends energy, he can regrow a lost limb in a matter of minutes.
Crucifixion: Prospero can entrap a foe upon a cross of light. While so restrained, they are completely unable to move. He usually removes their soul once they are restrained. He has been seen restraining as many as two dozen mortals in this fashion.
Light of Purity: Prospero can generate a holy light so intense that it will burn mortal flesh. Needless to say... demons really don't like it. Fellow angels are immune. Depending on the amount of the light he channels, this ability has the ability to be extremely exhausting.
Angelic Strength and Speed: Prospero is supernaturally strong and fast. He is capable of moving faster than any human (and some supernatural) eye can see. Additionally, his physical strength is far beyond that of any full-blooded human. Because of this, he usually chooses to kill people with his bare hands.
Soul Stealing: Every time Prospero kills a human, he captures their soul and imprisons it within his sword.
Sword: Prospero's sword his a brilliant cosmic weapon of unfathomable power. It will burst into flames while drawn and can cut through can substance created by mortals. Though this barest of the sword's powers can be used by Prospero, without his wings, he cannot weild the sword's true might.
Magical Immunity: No mortal magic can affect Prospero's mind due to his nature. Other magics will function on him normally.
Angelic Knowledge: When Prospero looks into a mortals eyes, he will become aware of every misdeed that they have ever committed or considered committing. Additionally, he knows all demons and angels for what they are at first site... and vise versa.
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Nevrehl, the Deceiver [Oct. 15th, 2003|02:09 pm]

From the dawn of time, it was the will of the Father that his land be crafted of earth, and rise into sober works of mountainous glory; that his fires should twist, crack, and blaze; that waves should crash and ebb into his ocean which existed merely to consume; that the wind should wash throughout his world, and whisper to anyone wise enough to listen. The work of the elements, all entwined, struck harmony in a world of chaos. Yet harmony is a scale – and for all the good, so too must the acidic aspects of nature entrench their own coils…

It was in nature where man first walked – where man first trod the earth, sighed into the breeze, embraced flames, and bathed in cleansing torrents. One would think it fair to say that of them all, the pieces which framed the whole were in essence those primal elements of purity. However, it was in this primal state where shadows crept and forged, in jealousy and maliciousness, the same such darker pigments of nature. With fire came rage. With earth, sorrow swept over the land. Water drew and discarded life with ease. The wind became black; trickery, deceit, misery… All was visited upon man. Was this not the will of the Father?

Devils, in jealousy of all that he accomplished, created their own states within his world. Blinded by rage and grief at having been cast from a mold less deserving than his chosen, they made manifest a permanent scar upon the mortal realm; these would forever be remembered as the Eternals. Bound to flesh in order to seal a pact between man and daemon, each embraced a world that beheld nature in sober reverence; from this, they bestowed fear into every walk of life. Struck free from their ethereal masters, the Eternals of nature left misery and destruction in their wake. These were beings of immeasurable power; bound to the land, one might never truly die. They were the messengers of discourse, who would ensnare humanity to the roots of primal evil – for it was Nvrehl, Eternal of the Winds, whom first bestowed the ideas of trickery and lust upon the Father’s noble race of men. And for this, he became enraged.

The Father gave man the first gift: chains, cast of divine might, to bind each Eternal to his own element. This was man’s first task - that of restoring order to the Father’s world. One by one, each being was seized and bolted to the purest form of each respected element.

The Eternal of the Wretched Earth was bound atop the highest peak, enshrined in a dark chapel of stone.

The Eternal of Vile Waters was sealed within a keep, deep within the ocean’s depths.

He of the Embittered Flame was contained amid a throne room shocked in a state of permanent inferno.

And finally Nvrehl, he who whispered evil into the heart of man, was chained upon a massive tower, its ceiling a broiling tempest clad in vicious gusts and great flashes.

Man having accomplished the Father’s request, compelled his benevolence. It was thus that the four Eternals watched. And waited…

For millennia, Nvrehl bid his time; whispering to the winds, he watched as fate began to twist for humanity. Seraupha had become a wicked land, enveloped in a web of corruption. Times changed, and its people slowly forgot the lessons of the Father – the punishments of those who would taint, and the gifts granted to the pious. The lies from ages past once more slithered into the Father’s thrall; his lesser offspring warred among each other for petty reasons, and chaos once more befell the land. From high upon that tower, Nvrehl observed. His laughter drew further rage from the heavens, and lightning crossed the skies – he of the Poisoned Word had triumphed. Riddles begot the decay of morality, and the Eternal of Ebon Winds merely grew in strength. His imprisonment neared its end…

The Patron of Deceit was, soon after, visited by one fallen from the grace of the Father. Astraphael, once the scale upon which all justice was weighed, was thrown from heaven; he declared war upon humanity, and from that day was stricken of angelic purpose. His wings were torn, and heaved into the sky, left to fall wherever fate would have it. This, Nvrehl had seen – and with it, the ensuing encounter which would once more visit black skies upon the Father’s children.

Astraphael, shorn of heritage, was left wretched upon the soil of man’s earth. Having searched in vain throughout lands far and near, such travels eventually led him to the Tempest’s tower. At its summit, he engaged the restrained Nvrehl with words of fancy. The Deceiver offered to aid in the search for those wings; after all, the breezes spoke of all things. The former angel was then caught, snagged in the Eternal’s ploy. A blade of holy light and flame struck low the bonds of mistruth. In a deafening crack which cleaved the boundaries of earth and heaven, the sky became ablaze; free after so long, Nvrehl threw his arms upward, his black talons stretched to slice the wicked flurry of air which whipped and whirled about the former prison. His laughter echoed for miles – dark, yet hollow and bereft of all but the most sincere of hateful purpose. And in a moment, all was gone; all silent. Still. Astraphael was left alone atop that tower, his only company a fiery orb high in the sky glaring hatefully down.

Nvrehl is a lithe, willowy figure. He stands tall, yet bears an almost feminine mystique in all mannerisms – his eyes betray an otherworldly shade of crimson, with white streaming hair to frame an ashen visage which peaks perfection. His body is wrapped in straps of cloth, bandages entwined over nearly all flesh; over this rests a cloak as black as night, graced with tatters and tears. He bears no obvious weapon, instead resorting to large obsidian talons which line each long and slender finger. Shackles still adorn his wrists, their formerly unbreakable chains rattling with each movement as a trophy to his long sought freedom. Taking all into consideration, the Deceiver creates an aura of uneasiness which would shake even the most stalwart adventurer.

Nvrehl’s true power has yet to be tested..

Eternity: As an Eternal, Nvrehl is permanently bound to Seraupha; for this, he may never truly die. Age is but an abstraction, something which has no bearing.

Wind Magika: Due to an affinity for the workings of the wind, Nvrehl has a variety of air spells to call upon. Of all the Eternals, Nvrehl is the only true magi among them.

Calling to Falgris: For months, Nvrehl wandered the land before his imprisonment; he soon encountered a wolf-kin creature which attracted great attention. This beast was afterward forever more bound (having been corrupted by the ebon winds) to the Deceiver’s side. Falgris is a massive beast, whose piercing howls shatter the mind of any purpose. Its deformed appearance is that of a great wolf, warped to be ever-fierce, its maw painted with rows of teeth, yet its form constantly flickering in and out of view. It seemingly bears no eyes, and is covered in a mass of thick plates and thorns.

Daemonic Speed: Nvrehl may, at times, move so quickly as to defy vision.

Eternal’s Form: Each of the Eternal walkers were assigned vessels of flesh; these, however, are in no way a true reflection of the daemonic symbioses. The true Eternal is a creature bereft of all earthly ties, transcending directly from the caster’s body. Such an action requires immense amounts of concentration, and a fairly long amount of time to cast compared to most other magiks. However, once completed, the Eternal becomes a creature of purely chaotic sympathies. Nvrehl’s true form is that of a great winged daemon, the Tempest, whose control over aero magiks is absolute.
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Kaos Katari -- The Chaotic One [Feb. 15th, 2003|12:44 pm]

Kaos, the little daemoness, was not of the “World”. An outsider, a foreigner, a stranger. Nothing but a child lost within the nadir of time and space, out of her element. A simple mistake, and lack of thought on her own part, in her own dimension had sent her to this place which she so despised.

All her fault.

She’d been crouching behind the core reactor in a Nuclear Fusion plant.. so much money.. for one little scientist to get knocked down; of course she took the job. Something rattled behind her, she jumped, she pulled the trigger, she missed. Horribly. After moments, hours, days of scientists gushing out of the facility, after nothing could e fixed, after a freakish portal had opened in their wake, her forgotten, unconscious body was thrown through to wherever that gateway lead.


So easily crushed this girl was- anyone, even the most coldhearted of beings would be after going through three husbands, and having two children murdered before their eyes. But yet, so angry.

Having murdered her own parents at a young age out of spite and hatred, (for one had been a daemon, and the other a mere human), she was taken under the wing of a fallen angel, known only by Justice De’Celeste, whom she stayed with until his dying day. While under his tutelage, she was well learned in everything he felt she needed to know, such as harnessing and redirecting hatred and anger, how to love your enemies, as well as becoming well versed in all weaponry that he knew to teach, from the ancient blades to her own favorite rifle.

After his.. untimely demise, two husbands came and went, and then the third: Jay Marinez. Jay was different than the rest, a pacifist, and a contemplative man, he seemed the exact opposite of the fiery daemon- yet they lived, and they loved, and they prospered.. until he couldn’t handle the threats on her life, their daughter’s life, and thus, he left the city, the nation, her life, forever, with no more than a nod and a “goodbye, Love.”

“I’M SORRY!” She’d screamed over a Cliffside that evening.” I’m sorry!” she’d grunted as she slid her dagger across her arm and stomach. “I’m… sorry…” she’d cried, too cowardly to throw herself off of the edge.

And so it remained, she sold her services as a mercenary not so much for money, but for something to do.

Then, the present came to pass. The present where she could think of nothing but her city made of metal, the city of the machines, of sex, drugs, and crime. Of underground wars, and of murder.


Standing no taller than five feet, and her frame is slight, yet muscular at the same time. Silver tendrils, which fall down to her waist, spill into child-like icy blue eyes. Leathery onyx wings remain perched on her back, showing all of her heritage. Porcelain skin mimics the white snow, leading others on to believe in her “refinement and delicacy”. She has no defining marks, save two hatch marks below her left eye… a reminder of the “good old days”, a sort of guild marking.


Berserk- Relentless fury and rage take over Kaos, allowing her to attack much faster and hit harder, but, because of the lack of concentration on her defenses, she tends to be hit a great deal harder as well. Nothing but Slashing/Cleaving abilities can be used while in berserk.

Self-Haste- A simple demonic charm, this allows the daemoness to double her speed and thus makes her much more agile as well.

Slow- Another little demonic charm which slows an enemy down for a very short period of time. The hex can be broken with any simple knowledge of demonic or time/spacial magics.

Stop/Paralyze- Paralyzes her target, but this spell lasts an even shorter time than her slow charm. It’s difficult to cast, and sometimes takes two to three tries for the daemon to get it correct.

A Little Piece of Hell- Surrounds the daemon in a sphere of hellfire, allowing her to damage enemies which come near her at will. An innate ability, this isn’t a taxing ability in the least.

Dream Watch- A side effect of the nuclear reactor accident, sometimes the daemon can see small glimpses into the future. This ability isn’t nearly as potent as would be that of a real Dream Watcher, but her clouded visions and distorted truths sometimes become useful. This “gift” furthers her small bouts of insanity.

Regeneration- Because of her demonic heritage, Kaos experiences more rapid wound healing, and needs less rest than a human or elfin kind.

Flight- As a wing’d creature, the daemoness has the capability to fly at semi-low elevations for prolonged periods of time, making travel across difficult terrain less difficult and dangerous.
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The first and ONLY OOC post that Lincoln_logs will recieve! [Oct. 14th, 2003|10:46 pm]

[Current Mood |accomplished]

This is how I'm envisioning this community to work:

For those interested in this roleplaying community, (or those currently roleplaying with us), this will be used for:

A) Posting access for logs when people aren't present and need to be caught up on storyline business


B) A place for a character's personal diaries.

Each player should have at least one icon set aside for their characters and for nothing else. I can make them if need be, just contact me on AIM.

<33 M
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