Please. As if I could even hope to emulate her sophistication and grace.
Annasiel
Member
Austere Estrangement
STATUS: Sometimes it feels like something that I don't believe in happening next week for the reason of my hope that it resolves itself. 4 yrs ago
- Last Seen: 4 yrs ago
- Joined: 9 yrs ago
- Posts: 65 (0.02 / day)
- VMs: 0
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Username history
- Annasiel 9 yrs ago
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Latest 10 profile visitors:
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Poetic Ghost
Status
Recent Statuses
4 yrs ago
Current
Sometimes it feels like something that I don't believe in happening next week for the reason of my hope that it resolves itself.
5 yrs ago
Just Married
5
likes
5 yrs ago
Existence, not exist. I blame the penny.
5 yrs ago
I existence once more to rain terror on the masses. Oh, look, a penny!
1
like
Bio
Under Construction.
Most Recent Posts
Headcanon that Hecare is a character Rose wrote to spite Kanaya.
"Kanaya. Come look. I've made our child."
"Um
Is This Another Of Your Odd Attempts At Humor"
"Oh, no, dear. I am fully convinced that this troll is the perfect combination of our personalities."
"I Do Not Particularly Like Her
She Seems Somewhat Insulting"
"Are you saying you don't love your own darling baby girl? Kanaya, you are so cold-hearted."
"Ha
Ha Ha
I Will Assume You Are Joking Instead Of Going Insane
Though Either Case Is Highly Probable"
"Kanaya. Come look. I've made our child."
"Um
Is This Another Of Your Odd Attempts At Humor"
"Oh, no, dear. I am fully convinced that this troll is the perfect combination of our personalities."
"I Do Not Particularly Like Her
She Seems Somewhat Insulting"
"Are you saying you don't love your own darling baby girl? Kanaya, you are so cold-hearted."
"Ha
Ha Ha
I Will Assume You Are Joking Instead Of Going Insane
Though Either Case Is Highly Probable"
Character Sprite
Character
==> An ominous beast lurks in her fetid crypt.
Who is this fearsome creature?
==> Enter name.
Your name is HECARE ERITAS, and you are a godforsaken VAMPIRE. At least, you wish you were one of the prestigious rainbow drinkers, those brilliant beings of the day. Much to your constant spite, despite your JADE blood coloring, you are utterly and completely NORMAL. To try and compensate, you wear a pair of PROSTHETIC FANGS which double as your strife specibus in combat. You have a fondness for a WHITE AESTHETIC, going as far as to powder your skin and bleach your hair, though your makeup is always rubbing off on everything and your hair grows too fast for the coloration to remain.
For all SEVEN SWEEPS of your life, you've found yourself near obsessed with the GRIM and MACABRE. Your gloomy home is strewn with SYMBOLS OF DEATH and VAMPIRE FANFICTION. The latter is almost entirely based on a series of books you hold in high esteem: "Sun Striders," stories about the dashing, daring rainbow drinker FANGFALL BLOODIRE. In fact, you are so enamored by this character that you tried to name your SNAKE LUSUS after her. However, in his infinite traditionalistic wisdom, you kept calling him his preferred name of SNAKEDAD. It probably helped that he threatened to bite you until you either passed out from blood loss or complied.
When you're not busy scribbling raunchy stories and practicing hissing in the mirror, you enjoy reciting EMOTIONAL POETRY to your friends on Trollian. Their annoyance is probably because they're jealous of your DEEP COMPLEXITY, and not because they grow tired of your beautifully melancholic works. Your trolltag is sunlitVaudevillian, and you emphasize a bite in your typing by “Viciously ViVisects Vords Vith Vile VerVe.” To store items, you use the strange and mysterious GRIMOIRE MODUS, which captchalogues items as pages retrievable by reading INCANTATIONS. Unfortunately for you, your prosthetic fangs give you a definite SPEECH IMPEDIMENT, making it difficult for you to access anything without multiple tries.
Sorry for the late reply, all, I'm finally coming around to try and join the party. Here's my CS, working on my introduction as well.
Name: Hecare Eritas
Age: 7 sweeps
Gender: Female
Blood color: Jade
Appearance: Tall and lanky, almost gaunt, with a narrow face. She has long, white-bleached hair, almost down to her hips, that she often keeps trussed in a series of braids. Her teeth are fairly sharp, with an average set of canines, but to enhance the effect she often wears a pair of prosthetic fangs. Recently, she’s taken a habit to wearing white makeup on her face and hands, which has the annoying habit of rubbing off on anything she touches. She wears a white, v-neck blouse with a fluffy trim, a pair of grayish slacks, and brown boots. She has a golden, bejewelled bracelet on her wrist, and a white lace choker around her throat. Her horns extend up, tilted somewhat out, with sharp hooks at the ends.
Symbol: symbols.com/gi.php?type=1&id=821&i=1
Lusus: A long, sinuous cobra-like beast named Snakedad. Hecare wanted to call it Bloodire after the famous rainbow drinker in “Sun Striders,” the best book series to ever grace the surface of Alternia. Snakedad, in its infinite traditionalist wisdom, vehemently refused.
Sylladex: Grimoire Modus. Items are stored on a page in a dark book, and can only be retrieved by ritualistic chanting of the page’s spell. Unfortunately, most of these spells contain the letter ‘v’, which are nearly impossible for her to properly pronounce with the prosthetic fangs.
Strife specibus: Fangkind. Trying her hardest to live up to her dream, Hecare fights her foes in a true vampiric fashion.
Handle: sunlitVaudevillian
Typing quirk: To emphasize a bite with every sentence, she “Viciously ViVisects Vords Vith Vile VerVe.”
Personality: A true drama queen of fantastical proportions, Hecare takes great care to display every emotion that crosses her mind. She is fascinated by the macabre and dark, especially the allure of her bloodcaste’s rainbow drinker heritage. She herself is not a rainbow drinker, and doubtless ever will be, but this doesn’t stop her from trying. A girl has to have dreams. She is quite intelligent, and will flaunt it if need be, but prefers to brag about her more literary pursuits: She is an avid creator of “Sun Striders” fanfiction and deep, emotional poetry.
God tier: Bard of Dream (Don’t ask. Don’t even bloody ask. I know this isn’t right, I know this isn’t proper, and frankly, I’m scared as to why AP is allowing me, almost telling me, to do this. I fear for all of you. Fear the female bard. Fear the female cod piece.)
Moon: Derse (For sufficient edge. Also, Hecare doesn’t bother with trite formalities such as making beds.)
Land: The Land of Trees and Whispers. A quiet planet filled with tall, dark oaks, spreading the sunlight overhead in a crossed pattern below. Thin mists dance between the trees, carrying with them words that none can ever hear and truths that none are meant to know.
Extra: She got the booty.
As to the conversation... favorite ships are Solradia and Rosemary. I tend to lean more towards Rosemary, though.
Name: Hecare Eritas
Age: 7 sweeps
Gender: Female
Blood color: Jade
Appearance: Tall and lanky, almost gaunt, with a narrow face. She has long, white-bleached hair, almost down to her hips, that she often keeps trussed in a series of braids. Her teeth are fairly sharp, with an average set of canines, but to enhance the effect she often wears a pair of prosthetic fangs. Recently, she’s taken a habit to wearing white makeup on her face and hands, which has the annoying habit of rubbing off on anything she touches. She wears a white, v-neck blouse with a fluffy trim, a pair of grayish slacks, and brown boots. She has a golden, bejewelled bracelet on her wrist, and a white lace choker around her throat. Her horns extend up, tilted somewhat out, with sharp hooks at the ends.
Symbol: symbols.com/gi.php?type=1&id=821&i=1
Lusus: A long, sinuous cobra-like beast named Snakedad. Hecare wanted to call it Bloodire after the famous rainbow drinker in “Sun Striders,” the best book series to ever grace the surface of Alternia. Snakedad, in its infinite traditionalist wisdom, vehemently refused.
Sylladex: Grimoire Modus. Items are stored on a page in a dark book, and can only be retrieved by ritualistic chanting of the page’s spell. Unfortunately, most of these spells contain the letter ‘v’, which are nearly impossible for her to properly pronounce with the prosthetic fangs.
Strife specibus: Fangkind. Trying her hardest to live up to her dream, Hecare fights her foes in a true vampiric fashion.
Handle: sunlitVaudevillian
Typing quirk: To emphasize a bite with every sentence, she “Viciously ViVisects Vords Vith Vile VerVe.”
Personality: A true drama queen of fantastical proportions, Hecare takes great care to display every emotion that crosses her mind. She is fascinated by the macabre and dark, especially the allure of her bloodcaste’s rainbow drinker heritage. She herself is not a rainbow drinker, and doubtless ever will be, but this doesn’t stop her from trying. A girl has to have dreams. She is quite intelligent, and will flaunt it if need be, but prefers to brag about her more literary pursuits: She is an avid creator of “Sun Striders” fanfiction and deep, emotional poetry.
God tier: Bard of Dream (Don’t ask. Don’t even bloody ask. I know this isn’t right, I know this isn’t proper, and frankly, I’m scared as to why AP is allowing me, almost telling me, to do this. I fear for all of you. Fear the female bard. Fear the female cod piece.)
Moon: Derse (For sufficient edge. Also, Hecare doesn’t bother with trite formalities such as making beds.)
Land: The Land of Trees and Whispers. A quiet planet filled with tall, dark oaks, spreading the sunlight overhead in a crossed pattern below. Thin mists dance between the trees, carrying with them words that none can ever hear and truths that none are meant to know.
Extra: She got the booty.
As to the conversation... favorite ships are Solradia and Rosemary. I tend to lean more towards Rosemary, though.
-Character Sheet-
Name: Gabanre Von Houten
Age: 25
Description: I do not know if this is acceptable, if not i have an 2nd one which will be it then.
1(Primairy):
After suffering an big accident in a plamsa storm, his family, which was really rich paid a lot of money to save Gabanre. Due to this he is half cyborg with his right leg and arm being cyberbernetics. The otherside is normal huma. Since he thinks it looks weird, he prefers to wear a long cape as good as always. He has short blonde hair and has almost no facial hair. One of his eyes is a cybernetic and the other one is pure red due to fusion with plasma.
During the storm his body fused with the plasma, this is an explanation of his skills.
2(Secondary, if first option not allowed):
Short blonde hair and blue eyes. He wears black clothes most of the time but is not gothic.
Skills:
1(Primairy):
Due to fusion with plasma, he is cabale of making forcefields and plasma without any other sources then himself. He is agile but not really strong in the human part, but his cybernetics make those parts stronger then human.
His eye calculates the speed of plasma and makes him able to dodge them when he has vision on the bullet.
He prefers to never use his sword, but when he is forced to he can use it quite good.
2(Secondary): He was trained for a special ops for one of the "Energy Providers". So he is capable using plasma guns and plasma swords, he prefers the last. Due to this he is quite agile but not really strong. He knows how to sneak and is capable of stealth.
Equipment:
1(Primairy): Cybernetic eye, cybernetic right arm and leg.
Plamsa sword
Black coat
2(Secondary): Plasma gun and Plamsa Sword
Black coat
Capable of making forcefields with his mind
Backstory:
1(primairy):
After suffering an big accident in a plamsa storm, his family, which was really rich paid a lot of money to save Gabanre. AFfter that he has been in the hospital for around 1 and an half year. When he got out of the hospital most of the world was already corrupt aswell as his family. This made him sad, and he ran away from his family.
He never had a permanent home after that. He made money by being a mercenary for maffioso. And due to this has quite a good knowledge about that world. When the maffioso he worked for last tried to kill him, he wiped the enitre family of the ground, atleast that is what he thought. When he noticed that he could do a lot on his own he started to make justice on the planet. His nickname is "The Reaper of Souls" named after all the killing he does out of justice.
2(Secondary):
After a long training in a special academy he got to do his first mission, which was to assasinate one of the more powerfull maffioso leader. He impressed the maffioso by straight up killing the guy he was supossed to kill, and they invtited him to the maffioso. When he declined he got attacked by the Maffioso, forced to flee he ran up the streets and that was here he met someone special to him. A woman who thought about justice all the time called: Diana Moon. Whom decided to adopt him.
After his adoption he got a lot of missions to kill wrongdo-ers. After a lot of succes he got caught by one of his instructors. And thus a period of captivity started. It was a hard time and he had to under go a lot of experiments on his body. One of the was the infusion of plasma, which left him with one special power to create force fields with his mind. After around a year Diana got him free, but died in the process. Her last words were: "GO, GO for your self.... You can get this planet good again." after that she died.
Thank you for providing an alternate. The first is fine as long as you leave out the "fusing with plasma" and the special powers associated; the cybernetics is acceptable. If this is undesirable to you, option two is fine to me. My only request is that you read your entire character sheet out loud to yourself and fix any spelling or grammar errors that you find. Once you complete this request, I will revisit for judgement.
Glad to see you all here! Especially the Moosen, whom I missed and was wondering where the frack did you go we missed you. ;-;
I plan to get some information together over the weekend; We'll see how CS progress goes by then. For now, will everyone who's made a post expressing interest please verify that you're definitely in?
I plan to get some information together over the weekend; We'll see how CS progress goes by then. For now, will everyone who's made a post expressing interest please verify that you're definitely in?
This sounds interesting...
I'm in, I'll start work on a character sheet.
Yay! Thankee! I'll work on some more info and some sheets of my own if a couple more show interest.
The name of the planet is Ral.
Shaped like a massive ring, it experiences many phenomena different from our own. The outside of the planet, scorched by the unstable star it orbits, is an uninhabited desert. The inside is cast in eternal shadow, and plagued by ionic storms of terrifying nature. Humanity, however, is tenacious, and does anything to survive.
With the power of technology, the inhabitants of Ral harnessed the energy of the storms, and created a great civilization. Across the whole of the inner surface stretches a massive cityscape. Terminal.
Terminal became overpowered by corporations, great business intent on harnessing energy and intellect in new ways. At the forefront of these businesses are the technocrats, those who devote their lives and souls to electronic innovation. The cause is not as noble as it seems; tenacious as they are, humans are also greedy, and greed leads to violence. The corporations of Terminal began to use less and less savory methods to gain the upper hand, until only the most ruthless survived. Like mafiosi, these territorial industries held the inner torus in a cruel grasp.
This is the world in which you reside, a world of technological glory and criminal plenty. Justice systems have long since given up hope, leaving the rotting streets awash with pain and violence. In this world, the tortured poor watch from behind sheets of bulletproof glass as aristocrats dine on synthetic drugs. Billboards advertising useless products pierce through the thick smog, accompanied by blaring dialogue about how much you need it. Hookers call out raunchily to mob bosses flying by on their polished limousines. There is nothing good in a city of darkness. Not unless you make it.
-Character Sheet-
Name:
Age:
Description: (One paragraph if you can, please. Pictures are optional.)
Skills: (A list is fine.)
Equipment: (A list is fine here too.)
Backstory: (At least two paragraphs, please.)
Shaped like a massive ring, it experiences many phenomena different from our own. The outside of the planet, scorched by the unstable star it orbits, is an uninhabited desert. The inside is cast in eternal shadow, and plagued by ionic storms of terrifying nature. Humanity, however, is tenacious, and does anything to survive.
With the power of technology, the inhabitants of Ral harnessed the energy of the storms, and created a great civilization. Across the whole of the inner surface stretches a massive cityscape. Terminal.
Terminal became overpowered by corporations, great business intent on harnessing energy and intellect in new ways. At the forefront of these businesses are the technocrats, those who devote their lives and souls to electronic innovation. The cause is not as noble as it seems; tenacious as they are, humans are also greedy, and greed leads to violence. The corporations of Terminal began to use less and less savory methods to gain the upper hand, until only the most ruthless survived. Like mafiosi, these territorial industries held the inner torus in a cruel grasp.
This is the world in which you reside, a world of technological glory and criminal plenty. Justice systems have long since given up hope, leaving the rotting streets awash with pain and violence. In this world, the tortured poor watch from behind sheets of bulletproof glass as aristocrats dine on synthetic drugs. Billboards advertising useless products pierce through the thick smog, accompanied by blaring dialogue about how much you need it. Hookers call out raunchily to mob bosses flying by on their polished limousines. There is nothing good in a city of darkness. Not unless you make it.
-Character Sheet-
Name:
Age:
Description: (One paragraph if you can, please. Pictures are optional.)
Skills: (A list is fine.)
Equipment: (A list is fine here too.)
Backstory: (At least two paragraphs, please.)
7:32 am - District 16, Rent-a-Room
Petra was risen from her slumber by a siren.
It was just another day. She opened her eyes to the cracked ceiling of her decrepit apartment, shrugging her sour sheets onto the dusty floor. Groggily, she sat up on the creaky boxpring, mentally reminding herself to do laundry before she began to smell like a demon's armpit.
The young woman swung her feet over the side of the bed, and began her morning ritual. After a cold shower in a mildewed bathroom and a quick meal of nutritional cardboard, she pulled on a pair of mismatched socks and was out the door.
As she ambled down the street, she wondered where the tide would take her today. One of the benefits of living in poverty was the amount of money it saved. Work was not a necessity, leaving almost too much time to engage in her passions.
An old man sat on the side of the street, rattling a can with annoying enthusiasm. Petra shoved a crumpled hundred in his container, putting an immediate end to his one man orchestra. He stared at the bill in disbelief. She didn't care. He was probably going to spend it on drugs, or alcohol, or prostitutes...
But it made him happy. For that short moment, it made him happy.
Turning the corner, she slipped discretely into a grimy bar. Inside, acrid smoke permeated the air, and the occasional shouts of hustlers in the back pierced the otherwise stoic silence. She sat at the bar, placing a metallic card on the table.
"Who'll it be today? We've got our fair share of early knockouts." the bartender asked, rubbing a spotted cloth n the inside of a cracked glass. Petra pointed at a slouched lump a few seats down, passed out drunk on the wooden counter. The bartender nodded.
"Aye, that's Felix. He comes in here every day, but I've never seen him so wasted, or this early. He says his wife left him."
Petra stared at the unconcious man dispassionately.
"Will it be the whole tab, as usual?" Petra nodded.
As the bartender hurried away to swipe her card, she walked over to the drunk, and shook him gently. He mumbled incoherently. She shook him harder.
"Wassit?" Felix raised his head, bloodshot eyes searching for the disturbance.
"I'm taking you home." Petra's voice was hollow, robotic. The bartender returned with her card, pressing it into the woman's open palm.
"Yer in good hands now, Felix. Whatever this woman says to you people, I never see your faces in this sorry shithole again. She's an angel, that one. 'll get your life straightened up fast. Hell, I'd be afraid she's driving me out of business if she didn't pay you fools' dues." The bartender gave a hearty laugh as Petra guided the confused Felix out the door.
They walked in silence, drunk and helper, down the busy streets and unswept alleys. With no help from his alcohol addled brain, Felix eventually found his apartment. His shaking hands, steadied by Petra's own, shoved the key into the lock, and he stumbled into the dark room. The woman followed after.
Petra was risen from her slumber by a siren.
It was just another day. She opened her eyes to the cracked ceiling of her decrepit apartment, shrugging her sour sheets onto the dusty floor. Groggily, she sat up on the creaky boxpring, mentally reminding herself to do laundry before she began to smell like a demon's armpit.
The young woman swung her feet over the side of the bed, and began her morning ritual. After a cold shower in a mildewed bathroom and a quick meal of nutritional cardboard, she pulled on a pair of mismatched socks and was out the door.
As she ambled down the street, she wondered where the tide would take her today. One of the benefits of living in poverty was the amount of money it saved. Work was not a necessity, leaving almost too much time to engage in her passions.
An old man sat on the side of the street, rattling a can with annoying enthusiasm. Petra shoved a crumpled hundred in his container, putting an immediate end to his one man orchestra. He stared at the bill in disbelief. She didn't care. He was probably going to spend it on drugs, or alcohol, or prostitutes...
But it made him happy. For that short moment, it made him happy.
Turning the corner, she slipped discretely into a grimy bar. Inside, acrid smoke permeated the air, and the occasional shouts of hustlers in the back pierced the otherwise stoic silence. She sat at the bar, placing a metallic card on the table.
"Who'll it be today? We've got our fair share of early knockouts." the bartender asked, rubbing a spotted cloth n the inside of a cracked glass. Petra pointed at a slouched lump a few seats down, passed out drunk on the wooden counter. The bartender nodded.
"Aye, that's Felix. He comes in here every day, but I've never seen him so wasted, or this early. He says his wife left him."
Petra stared at the unconcious man dispassionately.
"Will it be the whole tab, as usual?" Petra nodded.
As the bartender hurried away to swipe her card, she walked over to the drunk, and shook him gently. He mumbled incoherently. She shook him harder.
"Wassit?" Felix raised his head, bloodshot eyes searching for the disturbance.
"I'm taking you home." Petra's voice was hollow, robotic. The bartender returned with her card, pressing it into the woman's open palm.
"Yer in good hands now, Felix. Whatever this woman says to you people, I never see your faces in this sorry shithole again. She's an angel, that one. 'll get your life straightened up fast. Hell, I'd be afraid she's driving me out of business if she didn't pay you fools' dues." The bartender gave a hearty laugh as Petra guided the confused Felix out the door.
They walked in silence, drunk and helper, down the busy streets and unswept alleys. With no help from his alcohol addled brain, Felix eventually found his apartment. His shaking hands, steadied by Petra's own, shoved the key into the lock, and he stumbled into the dark room. The woman followed after.
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