[OOC] Voldoa: City of Monsters

[Max]

“Monsters are the brands given, not the lives lived. We are all one and the same.”

- Hugo Tarblatt, Head of the Engineers

---

THE ERA OF FEAR
Unprecedented to 1794

Monsters, they were called. Demons. Hell-spawn. They had been a part of the world since time immemorial. Whereas they started out as myths, legends, and horror stories, they grew into something known. Something feared. They were given names, such as vampires, werewolves, zombies, and many more. A new threat would always make itself known. Somehow, mankind survived through years upon years of coldblooded murders and widespread massacres. They would hunt the monsters down on their own and, whilst occasionally successful, would often be met with fatal retaliation. Time went on, and humans began to advance themselves, but monsters didn’t change. They continued to kill, while their prey continued to build, and instead of making futile attempts to fight their oppressors, they focused on defending themselves, and advancing their technology. And in the end, that very goal became their method of salvation.

The Industrial Revolution began, with an emphasis on the latter part of the name. The Era of Fear, as men called it, came to an end.

---

THE ERA OF REVOLT
1795 to 1870

The tides began to turn. Roles were switched. The hunters became the hunted. With the dawn of industry, humans began to direct much of their attention to machinery. And from machinery, to weapons. And from weapons, to monsters. Fear suddenly ceased to exist in a man once he had a rifle in his hands. Mobs were formed, bearing cannons and firearms rather than pitchforks and torches. When once a monster would laugh heartily or retaliate violently, now the mobs were successful. They formed hunting squads and laid siege to wherever they found inhuman beings, piling up their bodies and burning them in the dark. The sense of hubris was transferred from monsters to mortals, with no signs of impending downfall. There appeared to be no stopping the hunters as their weapons grew in power, while the monsters stuck to their old ways.

This became known as the Era of Revolt. A time of greatness for mankind. A time of despair for all else.

---

THE GREAT INVITATION
1871 to 1880

In their darkest hours, as they hid in the wilderness from the hunting squads, the monsters were confronted by those who would become their saviors. Humans dressed in hooded garbs hewn from a strange black flesh, bearing odd tools and instruments unknown to them. They called themselves “the Engineers”. They spoke of a place they saw to the construction of, a city hidden away from the modern world, high up in the northern mountaintops. They offered the monsters safe haven there, promising it would be untouched by human hands save theirs. While many were skeptical at first, they deigned to trust the Engineers and follow them to the city, which they called “Voldoa”. Within a mere few years, great migrations were made to Voldoa, as word of it spread to all regions of Europe. Hunters heard rumor of it as well, and attempted to follow the traveling monsters there, but the Engineers eluded them with their strange and mystical devices, concealing them from the hunters’ vision and driving them away with misleading illusions.

It took time, but eventually, virtually every nonhuman being in Europe, and lands nearby, ended up in Voldoa. The monsters were greeted by the Engineers, and their creations, the Flesh Golems. Giants made of desecrated skin, akin the Engineers’ garbs, and fitted with gears, plating, and contraptions that allowed them to move. The monsters marveled at these creatures and their work. Voldoa came across to them as a modern city, free of humans, and fitted with everything they would desire. Houses, gardens, taverns, anything they wanted. The Engineers saw to the maintaining of the city, while the Flesh Golems protected it from the threat of mankind. There was no sense of poverty, as all residents were cared for and provided with whatever they needed. No one was charged for anything, but the residents were allowed to run their own businesses. The Engineers told the residents they were free to come and go as they saw fit, and that they should consider Voldoa their new home. And they did, as few ever left once they settled in there.

Life for the monsters, or Voldoans as they came to call themselves, finally seemed to reach a point of peace in their lives. Grateful towards the Engineers, the Voldoans held a celebration for the founding of the city, and deigned to hold it again every year onward, on the ninth of November. The Engineers were pleased to see their efforts paid off, and continued their work with happy hearts.

---

THE VOLDOAN DECADE
1881 to 1891 (Present Day)

Voldoa still stands to this day. The residents have settled in and made a home for themselves with the help of the Engineers. Everything they asked for, they were given. The Flesh Golems walked along the outside walls, watching over the city and keeping it safe from harm. The Engineers did not discriminate, nor did they ever attempt to leash the Voldoans from their natural desires. They gave them blood, flesh, and meat, as much they desired, bringing it from their many halls dotted around the city. Where it came from, no one knew, and no one asked. They would make trips to and from Voldoa, up and down the mountainside, bringing things that the residents requested, such as alternative food, drink, toys for the children, and many other things. All that the Engineers ever asked of the Voldoans was that they never harm one another, the Engineers, or the Flesh Golems. And the Voldoans agreed.

It has been ten years since the initial founding of the city. The Voldoan Festival draws near, and the residents are joyed to celebrate it once again. A safe haven from mankind, who were once thought the weaker, in its due commemoration.

The Engineers and the Flesh Golems made something great. Even with all their secrets and mysteries, the Voldoans consider them their saviors.

No questions asked.

---

---

[Max]

I normally don't do these, but I feel I might as well try it out if I'm gonna be here a while. Fill this out and post it here, in the OOC, and I'll let you know if it needs changing. If it doesn't, then you can start posting in the IC whenever you wish, or talk here and make sure you're doubly prepared.

Feel free to get creative with your characters. Make them monsters we all know, something buried deep in a mythology book, or something you came up with yourself. You can even be a human Engineer if you like, but you'll have to run that by me first. Otherwise, no holds barred.

Oh, and, you can have as many characters as you feel that you can handle.

---

CHARACTER SHEET

Name: Self-explanatory.

Age: Same as above.

Race: If you're an Engineer, then you have to be human. If not, post your monster's officially known kind here.

Gender: You know the drill.

Appearance: A picture or a written description will work just fine here.

Personality: Be as descriptive as you can with this one, so we can all depict your character best.

History: Be even more descriptive with this one, if you would.

Other: Any random facts, interests, or hobbies your character might possess can go here.

---

CHARACTERS

All submitted characters will be listed here for easy viewing, so no one has to scroll up and down, page by page.

Max - Thomas Marborough

Name: Thomas Marborough

Age: 28

Race: Human

Gender: Male

Appearance: Thomas stands at an average height, close to six feet, and weighs average. He’s Caucasian, fair skin, but with a mangy blemish tucked away on the right side of his forehead due to his few years working in the Voldoan Underground. He has soft blue eyes, with a bit of a bag under each due to his work hours, and dirty blond hair that hasn’t been trimmed in some time. He doesn’t have a beard because he has trouble growing one in the first place. He dresses himself in the standard Tier II Engineer’s uniform, though the flesh coat is undone and his badge rests on his lapel. Beneath that, he wears a dark long-sleeved buttoned shirt, a little filthy, and a pair of black work trousers and boots. He carries all the work-necessary tools on his belt, ranging from toolshed contents to surgical appliances. All in all, standard look, save for the undone flesh coat.

Personality: Thomas is a soft, gentle, and often quiet kind of man. As one of the Engineers tasked with maintaining Voldoa’s Flesh Golems, he’s not as busy as the ones sent outside to collect supplies, so he has a lot of time to walk around the city and commute with the residents. He keeps to himself most of the time, save for when he sits down in one of the taverns to have a drink and talk with people, be they his fellow Engineers or the townsfolk. As with all Engineers, he keeps hush about certain aspects of his group’s work, such as where the surplus meat comes from or what goes on inside the Workhouses. Other than that, he’s kind, polite, and always in the mood to sit and talk before he has to fix a tripped Flesh Golem’s leg.

History: Thomas Marborough is one of the Tier II Engineers of Voldoa. He helped construct the Flesh Golems, and is tasked with maintaining them, and other machines, when they break down as all Tier II’s are. Tier I’s are the gatherers, spending most of their time outside of the city, procuring food, drink, and other supplies. Tier III’s are almost never seen outside of the Workhouses, the nature of their occupation a well-kept secret. Thomas himself is thankful he’s a Tier II, as it gives him the greatest amount of free time.

Thomas was born into the ranks of the Engineers before the three Tiers were established. Back then, the Flesh Golems were the main focus. At the young age of five, Thomas helped his mother Helena build one after another while his father Gregory acted as one of the resource procurators, as in bricks and mortar. After all, once the Flesh Golems were brought to life, they would still have to build an entire city with something. Once the Flesh Golems were complete, Thomas watched as they built Voldoa to every single specification laid out by the leader of the Engineers, Hugo Tarblatt. Once the city was complete in a matter of years, Tarblatt devised the three Tiers for the Engineers to be separated between. Helena was put into Tier III, while Gregory resumed his collection service in Tier I. Thomas requested to join his father and travel with him, tired of working in the Voldoan Underground. His mother agreed to the decision wholeheartedly, not wanting to restrain her some from what he wanted.

Thomas and his father, plus a group of other Engineers, spent the next few years traveling all across Europe, tracking down monsters and spreading word of Voldoa, the newly erected safe haven. It was close call after close call, be it by the hands of the beings they were trying to help or the hunters attempting to interfere with their efforts. Either way, they always managed to pull through. Thomas was happy with this life; traveling the region, guiding monsters back to Voldoa. He felt helpful, like he was accomplishing something. All of it, however, soon came to an end. Gregory died on the third of March, 1877, at the hands of British soldiers turned monster hunters, calling themselves “the Silver Battalion”. It was an ambush planned ahead, with a mansion of dead vampires acting as bait. Gregory was shot first thing, badly. The Engineers took cover in the mansion, but the soldiers quickly laid siege. The group didn’t have anything that would save Gregory from his severe injuries in time, even if they all escaped, so he pleaded with them to leave him behind while he used his standard issue “Last Resort” grenade. An illusion wouldn’t cut it if he wasn’t going to survive at all. Thomas rebelled against the decision the whole time, having to be dragged away while his father used his Last Resort to set fire to the mansion. The rest of the group slipped away while the Silver Battalion soldiers searched through the rubble. Everything on Gregory was destroyed, burnt to a crisp, including his map to Voldoa, thus rendered useless. The Engineers were saved at the cost of Gregory’s life.

Upon Thomas’ return to Voldoa, he and his mother grieved for some time. Afterwards, he requested to be moved to a different Tier, and was given his choice of either. Helena asked him if he wanted to remain with her in the Voldoan Underground, as a Tier III. But he refused, instead taking up a topside role as a Tier II, to which she accepted. It took time but, after spending years working on the Flesh Golems, fixing and improving them, he settled into it, and came to terms with the night of the ambush. He feels comfortable within Voldoa’s walls, and doesn’t plan on leaving again anytime soon.

Other: Thomas likes to individualize every Flesh Golem he works on, to give them a little more personality. He carves names into their skin and, as a bit of an artist, some intricate drawings and designs as well. He keeps a list of them in his work journal, and always makes sure each of them are well maintained.

Crescent - Nox

Name: Nox

Age: Unknown

Race:
Sealed Daemon
A strange race of demons, attaching to objects and (sometimes) creatures, imparting their own control, twisting their host's form into something representative of their own. Each Daemon has a telltale form that it forces its host to reference; sometimes subtle, like a tattoo, sometimes obvious, like bulging muscles and glowing eyes. In many cases, the Daemons are sealed within objects by those wishing to keep them from causing further destruction, and they cannot exit this object to take another host without explicit permission of the object's owner (see the below exceptions). When a Daemon IS released, often it will find a suitable creature host, granting the host its powers and taking control of them. Since most cause havoc in this way, they are often sealed away by wary sorcerors and kept under lock and key. There are a few ways they can escape; if the object they are sealed within is destroyed (or damaged), ingested or touched by quicksilver, they can escape and latch onto another object or host. Their powers are extremely varied and often quite dangerous. If they are able to break their seal completely, they can return to their original form, and must be sealed once more before they cause mayhem.

Gender: Male

Appearance: His unsealed form is lost to time. His sealed form is a small, pitch black ellipsoid with 6 spindly extrusions that move like a spider's legs. When attached to a host, as with all Daemons, an eye appears on the flat face of the ellipsoid. He speaks with a rather deep voice. Creatures that he inhabits seem to subtly drain light from the area around them.

Personality: Confident, but wary. Daemons have many enemies, and Nox is no exception. He will often wisecrack in particular situations, and regards sorcerors and other magic users with a dry bitterness and sarcasm. He is no longer a creature of impulse and destruction; hundreds of years of being sealed away has made him aware that there are many creatures that are far stronger and more dangerous than himself. Though he is still slightly brash, and enjoys mayhem occasionally, he has a small amount of respect for other beings that has grown over the years. Additionally, due to being sealed for so long, his powers have diminished somewhat, much to his annoyance.

History: Also known as the Nightbringer, Nox was once a legendary demon that was able to drive his victims to madness. Able to control darkness itself, and move through shadows like they were water, Nox fed on the fear of his enemies and became the main subject in many a terrifying tale. A rather curious sorceror decided his powers were quite intriguing, and decided to seal him away. Sadly, the man had a strange sense of humour. Now, he's stuck in a music box, in the middle of a little antique store in Voldoa. Lame.

Other: Nox's music box plays Au Clair de la Lune when wound; he claims the piece is soothing to him. He dislikes vampires, calling them "nightrats", much to the chagrin of the store owner. He is able to twist the music box's innards to extend appendages that he can use to travel around with it. However, the box is sturdy enough to resist short falls, meaning his attempts to escape so far have been fruitless. When a Daemon is left in its sealed form for more than an hour without a host object or creature, it turns to stone until sunrise. Daemons are notoriously difficult to kill, with different methods required for each; one of the many reasons they are sealed away.

Ink Blood - Arthur Collingwood

Name: Arthur Collingwood

Age: 542

Race: Wraith

Gender: Male

Appearance:


Personality: Arthur was a cold and calculating man, who would weigh the odds and try and predict the outcome of his probable course of action before actually going through with it. In death, Arthur’s personality has not changed much at all; he is still just as cold and calculating as ever. In death, though, Arthur is more brooding than he was in life. This is because of the circumstances of his death, so he is more vengeful as well. He kept these traits hidden in life, though, and presented himself as a friendly face and a productive member of society. In death, there was no need for this, until he came to Voldoa, so he has slipped into his old ways.

History: Arthur was born to a merchant and a housewife in 1303. He had a little sister in life, who he was extremely protective over while growing up. It was her death that drove him to seek the dark arts at the age of twenty. He used the guise of his father’s merchant company to travel around Europe to seek ancient secrets about the dark arts in an attempt to seek vengeance for his sister’s death; she had been lured in by a young noble, who then raped and murdered her. The noble was, of course, not even a suspect in her death, which was forgotten about as if she ever existed. In his travels, Arthur discovered much and gained power over the dark arts. He returned to his home after ten years of traveling and practicing his magics to seek vengeance upon the man who killed his sister. Being the calculating man he was, Arthur took his vengeance slow, killing the noble’s wife and children first through disease, and then haunting him with their ghosts until he was driven to kill himself from the grief. Arthur was driven mad by his quest for vengeance though and was left empty once the noble was dead, so he began using his dark arts on the townspeople subtly, driving a few mad here and there, torturing others, and even founding a cult after a while. When the Black Death struck Europe, Arthur kept himself from being infected through his magical arts, but he slipped up by doing this. The townspeople noticed he was the only one not even remotely infected or even afraid of the disease and turned on him, accusing him of causing the disease on the town, hearing from some of his less faithful cult members that he practice the dark arts. They captured him, burned his home, tortured him, stoned him, and finally burned him. He died in a rage of flames at the age of forty-six. His spirit lingered though, tainted by the dark arts he practice in life, turning him into a Wraith. In death, he haunted the townspeople that burned him and cursed his name, still being able to wield his dark arts. His hatred allowed him to remember who he was. He continued haunting areas in Europe, usually small villages, using his dark magic to bring back his targets’ dead loved ones back to life in the form of phantoms to drive them mad with grief. He has a few times caused terror in villages by actually raising their dead from their graves as fleshy zombies and dusty decrepit skeleton. He was hunted just like the rest of the monsters and was pushed to the edges of the map until the Engineers came and offered them sanctuary. Arthur was suspicious at first, but joined the community in the end to live alongside the other monsters. Occasionally he slips away from the town to cause terror in human cities.

Other: Arthur's magical abilities include: Summoning phantoms of one's dead loved ones, raising the dead, sapping life energy from the living (in small amounts), bringing disease, invading people's minds.

Noxious - Lunatae

Name: Lunatae

Age: Undetermined, prolific in the Hellenistic Era

Race: Maenad; Bacchae

Gender: Female

Appearance:


Personality:

She was something of an enigma, a being that literally emitted frenzy possessed an outlook almost wholly lackadaisical. Perhaps this was owed in part that to simply survive herself was challenge enough. Most things were trivial, some humorous and very few worthy of focused attention. A first impression was hard to reconcile with what most ‘expected’. She had survived the fall of empires and even races. She had watched as the first man gained control over elements and animals, but never over himself. She was a bubbly flighty thing, speaking in exaggerated hand gestures of long dead philosophies and then you would catch her blazing with a drunken fury as she ripped into the flesh of an infant. She would giggle and gossip, batting lashes over brilliant angelically demonic eyes, playing the role of extended youth throwing lavish parties of heightened ecstasy and then the façade would crumble and the vicious untrusting minx would whisper ancient magic directly assaulting what sanity one who keeps the company of such a creature might have. She is not overly intelligent, despite her age, and has a tendency towards trivial grudges that last centuries.

History:

Her beginning clawed into the minds of the earliest humans, breeding the race of maenads as their souls hummed for a means of release from the confines placed by their God. She doesn’t remember her own birth, no more than she remembers the waves of time that have passed over her clouded in an orgy of desecration. Her peak was in the time of the Greeks and Romans; a time in which her God was worshipped amongst the humans and revered in the gluttony of upper class. The maenads were strong then, living in the woods together yet venturing into the cities without fear. They hunted the bulls in the woods, taking them down together. They laid in exhaustion amongst fine pillows, dreaming together. They played music and screamed and howled at the moon, dancing naked together.

The memories of this time still roll over her with a delightful nausea of something truly and utterly lost. Once the humans began to band together against the monsters they ran and it seems as if one day she turned to look about her as she ran and she was alone. They had no way to hide. They were helpless in concealing their abilities. Even when she focused all of her attention on stifling; reaching the point of hysterical sobbing and retracted all love she had for her God, it still trickled from her as inherent to her being as the soft smell of honey. For short bursts of time she would play her part of normality. She hid herself for a year in a rotting yet boisterous whore house in the heart of London. She was tired. Tired of running. Tired of herself. The only happiness she had was the influence she subtly placed upon the house, but this couldn’t last.

The first warning sign came with a shrill scream early in the morning. One of the whores had mistaken her client for a raging bull and she was hysterical. Her naked lithe form twitched in a corner, dripping blood from her pale skin and a dull bed post that she refused to release as she ranted and raved about his intentions to spear her with a horn. The man appeared ordinary to everyone else; save the large gaping hole in his chest where the bed post had been securely lodged. Some even chuckled and shared jokes that incorporated the “spearing” and the “horn” varying in who was giving it to who. The poor disillusioned girl was carted off to an insane asylum while the mistress of the house did everything she could to contain the story and rumors that were sure to affect their business. Then one night the house became a cacophony of sounds that, to this day, are simply described as indescribably wicked. The scene that unfolded before anyone unfortunate enough to bear witness was an elaborate web of debauchery and defilement; limbs scattered about in perverse and precarious situations, simply remnants in comparison to the disjointed forms of their origin. Wine puddles blended seamlessly with the puddles of blood and other excretions; staining a myriad of pillow feathers, glass, flayed flesh, wood and ceramics – anything that was unlucky enough to have been present had ceased to exist outside of this new Frankenstein testimonial to indulgence.

And this is where they found her, those men in fleshy robes. How they knew to come looking is irrelevant now, but they beat the police and the hunters, finding the exhausted minx perched amongst the not yet decaying filth. Had it not been for her lazy arm movements moving cigarette from lips to side, barely dodging the refuse, they would have missed her. She lounged amongst the scene like a bored monarch and only barely raised a brow as they spoke to her. Once they finished she stood, naked and covered in all means of fluids and material, so much so that none of them could have described her skin tone or hair color without referencing the violent cerise tint. She followed them, her demeanor still the bored monarch and as the stepped outside the fire that would consume the place had already begun from that lingering cigarette.

Other:

Her abilities incite a frenzy in those around her. Inebriation, sex, rage and all forms of revelry reach a height beyond gluttony. It is often that the mood will overtake the maenad as well and her appetites will turn to flesh; be it rabbit, deer, werewolf or human child (and everything in between). The influences of her abilities differ depending on a multitude of factors; date proximity to the festival of their God, race, age, mood, predisposition/mental strength, ect.

Duc de Canard - Naetheriana

Name: Naetheriana, daughter of Lilith

Age: Ancient. Old enough to have forgotten, at any rate.

Race: Succubus, Lilim

Gender: Female.

Appearance: In her natural, unaltered form: Her diminutive stature of five feet is compensated by the great, ebon horns that protrude from her forehead and curl backwards like those of a ram. Her skin is scarlet, a faded red that covers her entire body without change in hue or shade. Her eyes are a deep, swirling and unnatural green - reminiscent of corruption and pestilence rather than the verdant or natural, while her pupils are slitted like those of a snake. Long, shapely human-like legs end in clawed hooves that scrape unnaturally against the ground as she walks. Two great, leathery, batlike wings protrude from her back and dominate her appearance, their span some ten feet when unfurled and formidable to behold. She carries a carved staff that swirls with green energy, and her clothing is scant but highly decorative, studded with glowing red jewels that throb unnaturally and wilted black lace.

She also possesses the ability to shapeshift into the most beautiful woman a man could desire based on his own preferences, regardless of age, weight or race. Generally, she crosses Voldoa in the guise of a beautiful, slight blonde woman with soft brown eyes and robed in an uninspiring brown dress so as to avoid attention during the daylight hours, even from other monsters.

Personality: Naetheriana is an old idea, and an old creature. Her origin as a true demon paint her as entirely evil, and thus her personality has developed - self serving to a fault, and unable properly to feel empathy for those around her. However, the one quality she does possess bountifully is loyalty, and the fact that she scantly has contact with her masters and other demons means that she has the most loyalty specifically for the faction of the monsters themselves. She sees Voldoa as a human attempt to finally place their trust in those bestowed with great gifts such as her, and with that the Engineers have earned her unwavering respect and potential loyalty.

Her personality is vain and narcissistic, and her craving for material wealth is constant and unyielding. She often styles herself the Whore of Babylon, and delights in those that fear her and are attracted to her - especially to those of whom both are true simultaneously. Her position as a highly sexualised creature also heighten this need for constant attention and reassurance of her beauty, which is undeniable in the face of her ability to shapeshift continuously into ever more attractive forms. Sarcasm and wit dominate her speech when she is not seeking power, and remarkably she is generally easy going and genial in her approach of others. Thousands of years of seduction have rendered her particularly charming when it comes to those who are attracted to pretty women, and her presence in the most important human Royal and Imperial courts of old have taught her much in the way of historical knowledge, etiquette and courtesy. She carries her manners with her with pride in this regard.

History: From Babylon to Versailles to Washington, many of history's most distinguished socialites and courtesans have been the guises of Naetheriana the demon. Long ago severed from her connection with her mother Lilith by the early technologies of humans, Naetheriana has blended seamlessly into the courts of men for millennia, seducing her way through kings and emperors alike the world over. She has gained prestige in this manner, and her love of great wealth has shaped the way that she has influenced the men who do her bidding. It is no exaggeration to say that, over the many millennia of her existence, the succubus has caused more than a few wars and thousands of deaths by the sheer influence of her (un)earthly charms on the men around her. From Bathsheba's temptation of King David to the follies of the Marquise de Pompadour in Louis XV's Palace of Versailles, Naetheriana has manoeuvred her way seamlessly through the machinations of men and their politics.

However, the rise of industry brought about her downfall. Industrialisation was unnatural in a way that even the demoness could not comprehend - it was alien to her in a way that only those things that considered themselves good and divine had been before, and in its face her wily charms and feminine temptations were powerless. As men developed guns and formulated ways to detect the demons in their midst, Naetheriana found herself ever more confined to the back alleys as a low life temptress - a sorry state of affairs for one who, at various points, had been declared Goddess, Empress and Queen by peoples the world over. She jumped at the chance for escape from The Engineers, away from the world which had turned its back on her great power and rendered the proud demoness humiliated.

[Girlie Go Boom]

Hiiii~~!!

I'd like to submit a couple of charries please? But will most likely post them tomorrow k?

[Max]

Bunnita said
Hiiii~~!!I'd like to submit a couple of charries please? But will most likely post them tomorrow k?

Go for it. I'll be doing much the same, actually.

[Crescent]

Do we have to be a creature that is based entirely off an existing mythology, or can we create our own monstrosity?

[Max]

Crescent said
Do we have to be a creature that is based entirely off an existing mythology, or can we create our own monstrosity?

You are absolutely free to do either.

[Crescent]

Excellent, I'll start working on a character now.

[Crescent]

Name: Nox

Age: Unknown

Race:
Sealed Daemon
A strange race of demons, attaching to objects and (sometimes) creatures, imparting their own control, twisting their host's form into something representative of their own. Each Daemon has a telltale form that it forces its host to reference; sometimes subtle, like a tattoo, sometimes obvious, like bulging muscles and glowing eyes. In many cases, the Daemons are sealed within objects by those wishing to keep them from causing further destruction, and they cannot exit this object to take another host without explicit permission of the object's owner (see the below exceptions). When a Daemon IS released, often it will find a suitable creature host, granting the host its powers and taking control of them. Since most cause havoc in this way, they are often sealed away by wary sorcerors and kept under lock and key. There are a few ways they can escape; if the object they are sealed within is destroyed (or damaged), ingested or touched by quicksilver, they can escape and latch onto another object or host. Their powers are extremely varied and often quite dangerous. If they are able to break their seal completely, they can return to their original form, and must be sealed once more before they cause mayhem.

Gender: Male

Appearance: His unsealed form is lost to time. His sealed form is a small, pitch black ellipsoid with 6 spindly extrusions that move like a spider's legs. When attached to a host, as with all Daemons, an eye appears on the flat face of the ellipsoid. He speaks with a rather deep voice. Creatures that he inhabits seem to subtly drain light from the area around them.

Personality: Confident, but wary. Daemons have many enemies, and Nox is no exception. He will often wisecrack in particular situations, and regards sorcerors and other magic users with a dry bitterness and sarcasm. He is no longer a creature of impulse and destruction; hundreds of years of being sealed away has made him aware that there are many creatures that are far stronger and more dangerous than himself. Though he is still slightly brash, and enjoys mayhem occasionally, he has a small amount of respect for other beings that has grown over the years. Additionally, due to being sealed for so long, his powers have diminished somewhat, much to his annoyance.

History: Also known as the Nightbringer, Nox was once a legendary demon that was able to drive his victims to madness. Able to control darkness itself, and move through shadows like they were water, Nox fed on the fear of his enemies and became the main subject in many a terrifying tale. A rather curious sorceror decided his powers were quite intriguing, and decided to seal him away. Sadly, the man had a strange sense of humour. Now, he's stuck in a music box, in the middle of a little antique store in Voldoa. Lame.

Other: Nox's music box plays Au Clair de la Lune when wound; he claims the piece is soothing to him. He dislikes vampires, calling them "nightrats", much to the chagrin of the store owner. He is able to twist the music box's innards to extend appendages that he can use to travel around with it. However, the box is sturdy enough to resist short falls, meaning his attempts to escape so far have been fruitless. When a Daemon is left in its sealed form for more than an hour without a host object or creature, it turns to stone until sunrise. Daemons are notoriously difficult to kill, with different methods required for each; one of the many reasons they are sealed away.

I'm sorry if this is a bit of a strange concept, haha. Hope it's okay!

[Max]

Looks good, Crescent. Love the concept.

I'd say you can start posting in the IC whenever you want, and you can, but If I were you I'd wait until a few more character sheets pop up. Your choice, though.

[Crescent]

I'll wait. I'd love to see what other people come up with.

[Nib]

I am interested, but what will our purpose in this RP be?

[Max]

Ink Blood said
I am interested, but what will our purpose in this RP be?

You can make your own, or follow up on someone else's. I have plans for a plot line that I'll be acting upon.

[Nib]

Ah. Alright then. Are we limited to any certain mythology?

[Max]

Ink Blood said
Ah. Alright then. Are we limited to any certain mythology?

Like I said before, absolute creative freedom when it comes to your monsters.

EDIT: Character sheet's done, so I'll put it here for you folks to read.

---

Name: Thomas Marborough

Age: 28

Race: Human

Gender: Male

Appearance: Thomas stands at an average height, close to six feet, and weighs average. He’s Caucasian, fair skin, but with a mangy blemish tucked away on the right side of his forehead due to his few years working in the Voldoan Underground. He has soft blue eyes, with a bit of a bag under each due to his work hours, and dirty blond hair that hasn’t been trimmed in some time. He doesn’t have a beard because he has trouble growing one in the first place. He dresses himself in the standard Tier II Engineer’s uniform, though the flesh coat is undone and his badge rests on his lapel. Beneath that, he wears a dark long-sleeved buttoned shirt, a little filthy, and a pair of black work trousers and boots. He carries all the work-necessary tools on his belt, ranging from toolshed contents to surgical appliances. All in all, standard look, save for the undone flesh coat.

Personality: Thomas is a soft, gentle, and often quiet kind of man. As one of the Engineers tasked with maintaining Voldoa’s Flesh Golems, he’s not as busy as the ones sent outside to collect supplies, so he has a lot of time to walk around the city and commute with the residents. He keeps to himself most of the time, save for when he sits down in one of the taverns to have a drink and talk with people, be they his fellow Engineers or the townsfolk. As with all Engineers, he keeps hush about certain aspects of his group’s work, such as where the surplus meat comes from or what goes on inside the Workhouses. Other than that, he’s kind, polite, and always in the mood to sit and talk before he has to fix a tripped Flesh Golem’s leg.

History: Thomas Marborough is one of the Tier II Engineers of Voldoa. He helped construct the Flesh Golems, and is tasked with maintaining them, and other machines, when they break down as all Tier II’s are. Tier I’s are the gatherers, spending most of their time outside of the city, procuring food, drink, and other supplies. Tier III’s are almost never seen outside of the Workhouses, the nature of their occupation a well-kept secret. Thomas himself is thankful he’s a Tier II, as it gives him the greatest amount of free time.

Thomas was born into the ranks of the Engineers before the three Tiers were established. Back then, the Flesh Golems were the main focus. At the young age of five, Thomas helped his mother Helena build one after another while his father Gregory acted as one of the resource procurators, as in bricks and mortar. After all, once the Flesh Golems were brought to life, they would still have to build an entire city with something. Once the Flesh Golems were complete, Thomas watched as they built Voldoa to every single specification laid out by the leader of the Engineers, Hugo Tarblatt. Once the city was complete in a matter of years, Tarblatt devised the three Tiers for the Engineers to be separated between. Helena was put into Tier III, while Gregory resumed his collection service in Tier I. Thomas requested to join his father and travel with him, tired of working in the Voldoan Underground. His mother agreed to the decision wholeheartedly, not wanting to restrain her some from what he wanted.

Thomas and his father, plus a group of other Engineers, spent the next few years traveling all across Europe, tracking down monsters and spreading word of Voldoa, the newly erected safe haven. It was close call after close call, be it by the hands of the beings they were trying to help or the hunters attempting to interfere with their efforts. Either way, they always managed to pull through. Thomas was happy with this life; traveling the region, guiding monsters back to Voldoa. He felt helpful, like he was accomplishing something. All of it, however, soon came to an end. Gregory died on the third of March, 1877, at the hands of British soldiers turned monster hunters, calling themselves “the Silver Battalion”. It was an ambush planned ahead, with a mansion of dead vampires acting as bait. Gregory was shot first thing, badly. The Engineers took cover in the mansion, but the soldiers quickly laid siege. The group didn’t have anything that would save Gregory from his severe injuries in time, even if they all escaped, so he pleaded with them to leave him behind while he used his standard issue “Last Resort” grenade. An illusion wouldn’t cut it if he wasn’t going to survive at all. Thomas rebelled against the decision the whole time, having to be dragged away while his father used his Last Resort to set fire to the mansion. The rest of the group slipped away while the Silver Battalion soldiers searched through the rubble. Everything on Gregory was destroyed, burnt to a crisp, including his map to Voldoa, thus rendered useless. The Engineers were saved at the cost of Gregory’s life.

Upon Thomas’ return to Voldoa, he and his mother grieved for some time. Afterwards, he requested to be moved to a different Tier, and was given his choice of either. Helena asked him if he wanted to remain with her in the Voldoan Underground, as a Tier III. But he refused, instead taking up a topside role as a Tier II, to which she accepted. It took time but, after spending years working on the Flesh Golems, fixing and improving them, he settled into it, and came to terms with the night of the ambush. He feels comfortable within Voldoa’s walls, and doesn’t plan on leaving again anytime soon.

Other: Thomas likes to individualize every Flesh Golem he works on, to give them a little more personality. He carves names into their skin and, as a bit of an artist, some intricate drawings and designs as well. He keeps a list of them in his work journal, and always makes sure each of them are well maintained.

[edboy49]

Looks interesting.
Can Angels be used?

[Max]

edboy49 said
Looks interesting. Can Angels be used?

If you can put a convincing story behind them, go for it.

[edboy49]

I may give it a try.

[Crescent]

Can't wait to see what your angel has in store for this.

[Noxious]

I feel obligated to name my character Crescent since you named yours Nox. :D I think I am going to create a Maenad.

[Max]

Everyone's just full of fun ideas here. And I love it.