[OOC] Forgotten -~- A Reboot of the Vampire Roleplay

[Undying Curiosity]

Just posting to let you guys know I'm still here. :3

[WilsonTurner]

Noted- Thank you for letting us know.

[The Grey Dust]

Despite my current Cs project for another thread... I may be interested in creating an elder for this...

[WilsonTurner]

That would be very much appreciated indeed

[Madame_March]

Here is my local character, I'll have the elder character up soon. : ) Name: Gwyneth “Gwen” Martin Gender: Female Age: 20 Appearance:

link to the picture

http://mojokiss.deviantart.com/art/My-Turn-116542829

Personality: Gwen is an outgoing person but has become more withdrawn since her return home. She is very sarcastic and is quite the tomboy. Gwen is also very impulsive and has been known to become distracted from finishing tasks. She doesn’t always think highly of herself, but she won’t let another soul know that. She has also grown to be very laid back and can keep a level head when situations get heated. Likes: Horror movies and Quentin Tarantino flicks, loud parties with lots of music and dancing. She loves the nightlife, and running for sport or fun. She loves cheese steaks and anything Italian. Dislikes: cigarette smoke and people who are assholes when they drink. History: The earliest years of Gwen’s life was very uneventful, but it was a boring normality that she remembers and still yearns for. Her family had settled into their cozy two story home when Gwen was just an infant and two years before her brother was born. Her mother became a teacher at the elementary school, while her father became a preacher. Needless to say, Gwen’s family became very well established in the community. The town Gwen grew up in wasn’t much different from the other sleepy towns like it across the country. It was quiet and friendly without much crime or trouble. There was only one subject tabooed by the locals, the manor in the woods. A “Manor” would be an understatement for this place; it looks more like a castle built by old Vlad himself. Those that can be persuading to talk about the manor cannot recall when it was built or if anyone even lives there now. There is a fear shared by this town about that manor, a fear that gags the locals and keeps them inside at night. Gwen did not pay much attention to the stories about the manor, like most she put the ghost stories out of her mind. She was loved by her family and had many friends from church and school. The moment that changed her life seems to come from her nightmares. She was thirteen then, it was Saturday and night was still creeping away when Gwen awoke. She had thought she heard screaming outside her window, but there was no one there. The door to the kitchen was standing wide open, and the sink was on. The stillness of the kitchen scared Gwen, so she ran upstairs to get her mother, but she was gone. Her mother was declared missing for three days until volunteers and police found her body in the woods. It was determined that an animal must have attacked her and nothing more was said about the case. They all grieved, but Gwen’s father had his flock and his religion, Gwen’s brother had his music. Gwen had nothing to help her cope, only questions. Something had killed her mother, not some animal. But once again fear had silenced the town. Gwen was very angry over the injustice, and the anger made her bitter too early in her life. The highschool years were a blur of failed tests, parties, and drugs. She graduated highschool and caught a bus out of town on the same day. Gwen was on a downward spiral, but finally, she cried out for help. Two years after running away, Gwen returned to her hometown determine to make amends to her family and try to establish some kind of life. She is now working at the local diner and trying to enroll at a nearby community college, but something has Gwen’s attention. That old manor has been on Gwen’s mind and it’s only a matter of time before her curiosity drawls her too close in the manor’s grasp.

[Madame_March]

Name: Hélène Renee Petit Gender: Female Age: 251 Appearance:

link to picture

http://fc01.deviantart.net/fs71/f/2013/347/4/7/motherland_chronicles__44___germaine_ii_by_zemotion-d6xtf2i.jpg

Personality: On the surface, Helene appears to be a virtuous beauty. Quiet and calm with a polite smile. But if you were to look her in the eye too long, you’ll see the madness she harbors. Helene is unpredictable, pure and simple. She is love, she is hate, bubbly innocence, and bloody sadism. She has her good days were she is completely lucid, and other days were she is a raving madwoman. The only one that may truly understand her is the one who sired her. Likes: Helene is a vampire, but she is not a savage. She enjoys art and has a love for classical music and jazz. She also enjoys the finer things in life, such as large houses with eloquent designs and expensive things. Dislikes: Rude people or people without any manors. She also dislikes uncultured and weak adults. She will have no sympathy for anyone who uses their situation as an excuse to gain attention. History: Helene was born in 1764, the second child to her parents with three half siblings birthed by her father’s first and late wife. Helene does not remember much of her father, due to the fact that she rarely saw him. He was a decorated hero, and therefore was in good standing with the French Monarchy in Pairs. Because of this, “business” had him traveling or attending to the needs of the monarch in Paris. Helene grew up away from the distractions of the city; she instead lived on her family’s country estate with her mother and older sister. Helene did not care much for her father, she did love him but his absence in her younger years left her quietly resenting him. What ultimately made her dislike her father was whenever he came to visit the country home; it was always to bring about unwanted change. While her father was a cold distant figure in her childhood, her mother was warm and ever present. Helene’s mother was like a god to the child, a woman who embraced motherhood with grace and embodied the woman Helene wished to be. The woman guided the child and her sister, exposing them to the beauty of nature and seeing they were educated and would grow to be the perfect lady. Then her father appeared and Helene’s time in her country paradise was over. First he came with a nobleman to court Helene’s sister, then they were wedded and her sister was off to her new life. When Helene was 15, her father appeared with a suitor to court her. Adrien was his name, and he was some type of lawyer, but he was also much older and very boring. But her father smiled, the first time she recalled him ever smiling, and said “He is very wealthy, so do as you are told and be happy.” Helene hated Pairs, the crowded streets and the noise. The aftermath of the war with England was only present on the hungry and sick peasants. It was the theater that kept her happy during those few months before her first pregnancy. Her paradise return to Helene when she was sitting before that stage. when the music began and the curtains parted, heaven was awaiting Helene. Then Helene found a something new to cherish, her daughter Marie. Just as her mother had done for her, Helene cared for Marie and made sure she had the best of everything. Her husband had become absence, caring more for the whores and his drinking, but Helene did not care because he had given her a child. Around her, the world was once again changing. Her father came to visit Helene one final time to ruin her life. He had tales of unrest among the people of France. Talk of attacking the monarch, and it was in Adrien and his family’s best interest to retreat outside of the country. But Adrien was stubborn, always so stubborn, and declared that the noblemen had nothing to fear. It is the burning that Helene would always remember, the heat and the smell and the brightness as the flames ate away at their home in Paris. In one faithful night, riots had broken out and the homes of the wealthy were broken into and pillage while the people were dragged out in the streets. Helene lost Adrien to a crowd, probably to be beaten and later executed. It was Marie she cared about, who was lost to the smoke. Helene doesn’t remember much about her final moments alive. She had been carrying Marie’s body through the streets, detached from reality and numb. She didn’t notice the figure that appeared beside her or the way he hungrily stroked her hair. He asked her something thing, but Marie does not remember what he had whisper. She only remembers saying yes, then the pain began and the darkness. After that night, Helene found a new reason to enjoy this so call revolution in her native France. Her theater no longer offered her paradise, and her Marie would never open her smiling blue eyes again. Helene instead found her paradise in the taste of butchered soldiers and rebels. The nobles whose delicate pampered necks cracked so easily brought her pleasure. The painful screams Helene forced from the lips of her prey was like the music. The revolution ended too quickly for Helene, but there were other events of chaos on this pitiful earth that called to Helene. And oh, she would have so much fun.

[WilsonTurner]

Interesting characters, both are accepted.

[Madame_March]

Thanks, cant wait to start.

[The Grey Dust]

Name: Lord Bedivere of Sinews Gender: Male Age: 1537 Appearance:

Elder Form

Battle Form

Young Form

Non-vampire Form

Personality: A man of honor, Bedivere has undoubted twisted the chivalrous image of the gentleman into something far more wicked. At face value, he is an eloquent, charismatic figure, yet his mindless thrall think of him the same. He harbors a patronizing view towards humanity, seeing them as nothing more than animals to be fed upon as history has proven to him. Although he is a man of his word, such that he keeps well on his promises, although interoperation is of course subject to change. Likes: Bedivere enjoys painting, literature, sculpting and is a fine connoisseur of blood. Through the years he has also gained a penchant for collecting be it books for his personal library, currency or weapons from the time periods amongst other quirks such as collecting thrall. He also funds “archeological” expeditions and quests to add to his collection. Dislikes: Humans, the less cultured the increased scorn. He also dislikes wasting any blood such that he prefers to collect live specimens to be bled to death before disposing of their bodies. Finally, Bedivere holds a slight grudge against royalty. History: The stories are more than legends, and every tale is not as it seems. Bedivere was born in the late 5th century, an esteemed knight serving under a king who had ruled justly and fairly over the land. This is not where the story begins, but rather where one story ended. As in the fall of his great king, Bedivere could not bring himself to fulfill the request of his dying liege as he alone stood kneeling at side of his lord. The kingdom was crumbling, and king had requested that his blessed sword would be cast into a lake. What madness was this? To cast aside such a majestic relic which could so easily unite the kingdom once more from these foreign invaders and internal corruption was utterly beyond comprehension. Nevertheless, bound by his oath of chivalry, he fulfilled his lord’s last wish and made his way to the lake in his final quest for his fallen king, brotherhood and kingdom. And when he stood atop his boat to drop sword into the waters deepest, therein he saw the pale white hand reach out and grasped the blade to claim it before disappearing into the mist. Or so the legend goes. In truth, the hand did grasp the blade and startled him, as a pale white lady emerged from the lake, dressed in an ethereal gown before him. This was the lady of the lake, and where the story truly begins. As she grasped the sword, her beauty entrance Bedivere, who leaned towards her drawn by her airs. But this was one fatal flaw, for the lady of the lake was a daughter of the night and by the time her smile revealed her fangs, it was too late. So Bedivere awoke, unsure if it was dream or nightmare, but found himself unnatural thirst. He had become a child of the night himself, for that was the deal the king had made with the pale lady: A kingdom and life eternal for a single drink of royal blood and the promise of blood tributes for her when he had conquered all the realm. As such, this pact was now transferred and bound to Bedivere. And this is where the legend continues. Ever since his rebirth, Bedivere had changed to those who formerly knew the good sir knight. He had become a twisted man, losing color in his flesh and hair as he withdrew himself into the empty castle halls of his former fellows. No other knights were ever seen, save for him, such that they all thought he the last survivor who merely aged from the fall of the land as it decayed. In time, his disappearance and the foreboding appearance of the overgrown keep made whispers to the story. They said Bedivere was a warlock and practiced the dark arts, trained by the king’s treacherous cousin, which felled his king. They said it was not he who tossed the sword into the waters but another noble knight. They said it was he who was responsible for the death of the land evident from the ruination sprawling from the castle. And in truth, perhaps he was. This is where the legend ends. Amongst the most long-lived of the vampires, Bedivere has grown quite bored with the world. He has merely retreated to the ruins of the old castle buried beneath the centuries only to seek out prey for his hobbies and dining purposes. He keeps his halls as original as possible, never having moved any relic of the past in memory of a time when the halls were once alive with the chatter of men he called brothers. He had watched society progress through the ages. When he was active and used his dark gift, he served the countless kings and lords which lay claim to the legacy of the old king. He had engorged himself upon the blood of the Viking raiders, fought against the Norman Kings, and watched as the island wither in plague only to be unified through ages of kings and queens through blood, roses, and warfare in the rise of the Tudors. He saw Britannia expand to new and distant lands in the Far East and west, building upon itself a glorious empire. Yet, it too fell, by rebellion, revolts and revolution. It was interesting then, when just before the turn of the 20th century, he came into contact with a particular vampire, one who claimed to have sired many of their kind. This vampire lord was interested in a particular Carfax Abbey, and bringing his blood business to England not expecting there to have been another vampire noble already established himself there. And while Bedivere was powerful, the other lord’s mastery of the vampiric abilities was far superior than his own, to which he was forced to kneel and swear fealty to serve under the vampire lord and his lineage in exchange for his unlife and further training to unlock the true power of the vampire. He had traded one king for another, one brotherhood for another, one title for another. No longer was he Sir Bedivere, he was now known as Lord Bedivere, Lord Marshall of Dracula. And with his immortality Bedivere saw it all: the great war they claimed to end all wars as a struggle between the nations, only to be humored as another war broke forth in the ages of man. Foolishness and repetition was all he saw in the species he once dared belong to. He traded his humanity for enlightenment, they were prey: stupid, ignorant prey.

[WilsonTurner]

Name: Lord Bedivere of Sinews Gender: Male Age: 1537 Appearance:

Elder Form

Battle Form

Young Form

Non-vampire Form

Personality: A man of honor, Bedivere has undoubted twisted the chivalrous image of the gentleman into something far more wicked. At face value, he is an eloquent, charismatic figure, yet his mindless thrall think of him the same. He harbors a patronizing view towards humanity, seeing them as nothing more than animals to be fed upon as history has proven to him. Although he is a man of his word, such that he keeps well on his promises, although interoperation is of course subject to change. Likes: Bedivere enjoys painting, literature, sculpting and is a fine connoisseur of blood. Through the years he has also gained a penchant for collecting be it books for his personal library, currency or weapons from the time periods amongst other quirks such as collecting thrall. He also funds “archeological” expeditions and quests to add to his collection. Dislikes: Humans, the less cultured the increased scorn. He also dislikes wasting any blood such that he prefers to collect live specimens to be bled to death before disposing of their bodies. Finally, Bedivere holds a slight grudge against royalty. History: The stories are more than legends, and every tale is not as it seems. Bedivere was born in the late 5th century, an esteemed knight serving under a king who had ruled justly and fairly over the land. This is not where the story begins, but rather where one story ended. As in the fall of his great king, Bedivere could not bring himself to fulfill the request of his dying liege as he alone stood kneeling at side of his lord. The kingdom was crumbling, and king had requested that his blessed sword would be cast into a lake. What madness was this? To cast aside such a majestic relic which could so easily unite the kingdom once more from these foreign invaders and internal corruption was utterly beyond comprehension. Nevertheless, bound by his oath of chivalry, he fulfilled his lord’s last wish and made his way to the lake in his final quest for his fallen king, brotherhood and kingdom. And when he stood atop his boat to drop sword into the waters deepest, therein he saw the pale white hand reach out and grasped the blade to claim it before disappearing into the mist. Or so the legend goes. In truth, the hand did grasp the blade and startled him, as a pale white lady emerged from the lake, dressed in an ethereal gown before him. This was the lady of the lake, and where the story truly begins. As she grasped the sword, her beauty entrance Bedivere, who leaned towards her drawn by her airs. But this was one fatal flaw, for the lady of the lake was a daughter of the night and by the time her smile revealed her fangs, it was too late. So Bedivere awoke, unsure if it was dream or nightmare, but found himself unnatural thirst. He had become a child of the night himself, for that was the deal the king had made with the pale lady: A kingdom and life eternal for a single drink of royal blood and the promise of blood tributes for her when he had conquered all the realm. As such, this pact was now transferred and bound to Bedivere. And this is where the legend continues. Ever since his rebirth, Bedivere had changed to those who formerly knew the good sir knight. He had become a twisted man, losing color in his flesh and hair as he withdrew himself into the empty castle halls of his former fellows. No other knights were ever seen, save for him, such that they all thought he the last survivor who merely aged from the fall of the land as it decayed. In time, his disappearance and the foreboding appearance of the overgrown keep made whispers to the story. They said Bedivere was a warlock and practiced the dark arts, trained by the king’s treacherous cousin, which felled his king. They said it was not he who tossed the sword into the waters but another noble knight. They said it was he who was responsible for the death of the land evident from the ruination sprawling from the castle. And in truth, perhaps he was. This is where the legend ends. Amongst the most long-lived of the vampires, Bedivere has grown quite bored with the world. He has merely retreated to the ruins of the old castle buried beneath the centuries only to seek out prey for his hobbies and dining purposes. He keeps his halls as original as possible, never having moved any relic of the past in memory of a time when the halls were once alive with the chatter of men he called brothers. He had watched society progress through the ages. When he was active and used his dark gift, he served the countless kings and lords which lay claim to the legacy of the old king. He had engorged himself upon the blood of the Viking raiders, fought against the Norman Kings, and watched as the island wither in plague only to be unified through ages of kings and queens through blood, roses, and warfare in the rise of the Tudors. He saw Britannia expand to new and distant lands in the Far East and west, building upon itself a glorious empire. Yet, it too fell, by rebellion, revolts and revolution. It was interesting then, when just before the turn of the 20th century, he came into contact with a particular vampire, one who claimed to have sired many of their kind. This vampire lord was interested in a particular Carfax Abbey, and bringing his blood business to England not expecting there to have been another vampire noble already established himself there. And while Bedivere was powerful, the other lord’s mastery of the vampiric abilities was far superior than his own, to which he was forced to kneel and swear fealty to serve under the vampire lord and his lineage in exchange for his unlife and further training to unlock the true power of the vampire. He had traded one king for another, one brotherhood for another, one title for another. No longer was he Sir Bedivere, he was now known as Lord Bedivere, Lord Marshall of Dracula. And with his immortality Bedivere saw it all: the great war they claimed to end all wars as a struggle between the nations, only to be humored as another war broke forth in the ages of man. Foolishness and repetition was all he saw in the species he once dared belong to. He traded his humanity for enlightenment, they were prey: stupid, ignorant prey.

The Grey Dust

Several things are wrong with this CS, to be honest. One: Battle is unlikely. Any of those 'forms' aren't needed. You have on form- what you looked like when you were turned. After that, the only other form you have is the vampire bat. Two: Being over a thousand years old isn't possible. Dracula was the first vampire, and he was born in 1431-1476. The oldest vampire that ever lived, the FIRST vampire, was only, oh, just above 500 years old, give or take a couple decades. Saying you were over 1500 years old means that you were there when Rome fell, or just after it. Knights didn't exist, nor did Kings, not really. It was all Roman and all that, and the afterwards. At most, you could probably be 400 or so. Everything else is fine, in my opinion, but Dracula was the first vampire. The OP says it- these are the original vampires of legend. Dracula being the first.

[The Grey Dust]

Not according to Dracula's Guest. In which references Carmilla as another vampire contemporary to Dracula, albeit under his command yet unknown if she was made by him. However I'll make adjustments and make him a sorcerer who was made into a vampire later. Which would simply explain the age. Furthermore, in Dracula, the good count's appearance changes over time actually. He was considerably older at the beginning of the novel than at the end which is suggested by his feeding habits. Hence why the 3 images.

[Madame_March]

I feel like bumping this. Hello

[Aces Away]

Hiya

[WilsonTurner]

Ana, should Lord Bedivere be accepted?

[Aces Away]

Mm, his character seems to go against the rules a bit and even be contrary to the plot. I feel if he revised it to be something like a 16th century soldier or something. But there's a lot more editing needed besides the age. The multiple forms and Lord Marshall of Dracula status. Not being in the castle with the others in any point of the history, a 'lady of the lake' turning out to be a vampire (How did she know he was coming? she couldn't wait too long without feeding). It just seems kind of generic to me :\

[WilsonTurner]

There you have it, Grey Dust, put far more diplomatically and compact than I could manage

[The Grey Dust]

That's fine then, I'll go through another round of character development. Will take a few cycles to get the images right again.

[Aces Away]

My friend is working on 2 characters

[WilsonTurner]

Well that's good- both of you, I mean.

[Madame_March]

so, you think we will be starting soon?