Remember the indigenous people of the Americas today.
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3 yrs ago
Critical Role? More like Crunchical Hole, haha. But yes, it's pretty uh... well, the Mercer Effect exists for the same reason people think porn is an accurate depiction of sex.
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Bio
Hello, I am me from the internet. I migrated here from Kongregate's Forum Games Forum, so feel free to look for me there if you wish to follow a career in internet stalking people. (ಠ_ಠ) ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)
“I really don’t follow how your faith believes its perfectly acceptable to doom 4,000 years plus of sentient beings, on a pre-set path of no escape from sin, just so their descendants can be offered the ‘chance of salvation’ when the god murders its own son.” ~vikaTae
“Don’t be an ass or a pussy, ’lest you get screwed by life. Being a mouth or a hand is somewhat safer, and an eye socket is pretty much sacred in this regard, so always keep a look out.” ~BCLEGENDS
It was probably for the best that she'd been ignored here. The imp was, honestly, kind of rude... and hard to say anything to. He explained that Her Gloriousness was the leader "down here", which probably meant the cave, then? And in the end, the figure who emerged was... well, honestly, queen-like. She had the clothing and demeanour for it, anyway... but something felt off about her, more than just the horns. Her presence alone was kind of disconcerting, and glancing over at Harriette, she could see she was...
Scared. Terrified, even.
And Alina had wanted to abandon them by giving up and dying. Like a coward.
She was a coward. Which was why she didn't immediately follow the instructions given, and instead moved to Harriette's side, limping the whole way until she could plant her hand on Harriette's shoulder.
'It's okay.'
It wasn't. None of this entire experience had been okay. But she wanted to do... something? She didn't know, this whole thing had been way too much. She...
'I'm Alina Sanford.'
...she needed to kneel, too, right? That was grovelling, probably. She didn't know, when was the last time somebody had mentioned it in any context? Anyway, she did kneel, because that was needed. Maybe it'd keep her alive a bit longer.
Name: "Daero'moroke", each syllable pronounced independently. Technically, this is to his true name what a mortal's nickname is to their full name plus a great many titles and honorifics, but the entire thing becomes a mouthful for most mortals to pronounce beyond that point - intentional grafting of that conceptual aspect of his soul has made it so, to wit. Besides, he's not keen to just give out the full thing on the regular, so he has a few epithets beside that to work with: many common languages give him the titles Lord of Bulls or Master of Sacrifice; he is The Watching Death in the Orcish tongue; The Evil Eye in High Elven; The Burning Eye in Low Elven; and in High Alytian, to those few priests and paladins who know and understand his methods, he is simply The Observer.
Age: Roughly 4350. It's been longer than that, but at some point you just start counting in decades for sake of ease.
Race: Demon
Background: The full life story of a demon as old as Baero'moroke is much too lengthy to explain to one with such important business as Lord Ahriman. Suffice to say, however, describing his character will help to explain most of it.
You see, many of those working to break the so-called Heroes of the Goddess have personal reasons for it. They have been personally wronged by the Church of Clionism and its minions, or they've found direct issue with the Heroes and their unfair advantages in the world compared to the native inhabitants, or they are simply brainwashed into their role as opposition. Some might even consider this among demons: even the mighty are not immune to emotion, and some fall foul of fear or fury so fervently.
Daero'moroke is different. He is, simply put as possible, a narcissistic dick with a bad case of anti-social personality disorder, and a distinctly deadened sense of empathy as a result. He can appreciate individual beings, but moreso based on what they give him than what he feels for them. A useless tool is of no value to him - and to be frank, most mortals are only useful to him as toys to manipulate into doing things against their better interests. He gets joy out of this, you see, finding it amusing to twist mortal wants until they ruin everything they have for themselves, and especially finds screwing with those silly little Heroes a fascinating exercise in figuring out what makes them tick, then pulling at the gears until they break apart - even if those gears prove infuriatingly resilient more often than not.
Rarely directly, though. His true form is monstrous, but he has a variety of alternate guises to work with in place of that: human forms, of noble and Clionistic approach amongst others, and a form that one might very well mistake for angelic if one were foolish... as many Heroes are. Much more often, he will send minions or spells out to gather information about the world, then send it back to him to build up his knowledge ever further, and track down people who might be of interest to him.
The main things that have been holding him back to date are but twofold - middling demonic power, and a distinct lack of ambition. He already enjoys what he does, after all; why change that? Well, when the Demon King demands your presence, and asks that you help make a concerted effort to wipe out the Heroes and the Goddess' influence in the world as a whole... there is rarely much one can do to protest. Even if it means working with... admittedly-unusual mortal allies.
Skills and Abilities:Physical - If Lord Ahriman were interested in raw power, he'd stop at Medai and sic her on the continent. As it is, Daero'moroke is of noteworthy strength, speed, and durability even when not tapping into his full power, and can outmatch even most Heroes at his utmost - but then, it's not "most" Heroes that prove a problem, but the single Hero who gets strong enough to slay the Demon King. At that point, and consequently with a great many demons, he cannot simply beat them senseless. Magical - Likewise, for raw magical output, Ophidias Seht would do just fine. Daero'moroke is, in fact, quite the magus in and of himself, with quite a range of reasonable offensive and defensive magicks to hand - but, more pertinently, a great many magicks to support his primary capabilities, including ideas along the lines of scrying, charms, hexes, conceptual interference, seals both consensual and non-consensual, and two very pertinent spells: the power to split off tiny slivers of his own metaphysical being, ensconsing them either within a subordinate or as their own fairy-like entities to acquire information and relay it directly back to him; and a sort of internal library of memories, exceptionally valuable for organising inputs on the scale of thousands, even tens of thousands of hours of time each day, enough to drive a mortal mind mad. Naturally, he outranks the majority of mortal mages, and in theory could scale up nigh-indefinitely, but the minute losses from splintering one's essence (even if it heals gradually) and relatively discrete use of this power take their toll on his final output. Mental - No. What sets Daero'moroke apart from the rabble is his intensely manipulative, and moreover exceptionally organised mindset. He is smart, that is clear, but it is bent toward using others to get what he wants, and ensuring he has every single piece on the table just in case he needs some for later. It is rare that there is something of importance happening in the land which he doesn't know about, and even rarer for others to know when he is actively meddling with it. Indeed, he prefers to gather as many pieces of a puzzle as possible before striking at its heart, if he has to be physically involved at all; and in the rare cases where he deigns to brute force an event, he prefers to be precise, delicate, a scalpel rather than a hammer, attacking suddenly and using just enough power to win the fight so as to avoid drawing attention to himself.
Quips: He defies the concept of the Bishonen Line when it comes to transformations. He is also more than aware of many of his "companions'" own flaws and desires.
Name: "Daero'moroke", each syllable pronounced independently. Technically, this is to his true name what a mortal's nickname is to their full name plus a great many titles and honorifics, but the entire thing becomes a mouthful for most mortals to pronounce beyond that point - intentional grafting of that conceptual aspect of his soul has made it so, to wit. Besides, he's not keen to just give out the full thing on the regular, so he has a few epithets beside that to work with: many common languages give him the titles Lord of Bulls or Master of Sacrifice; he is The Watching Death in the Orcish tongue; The Evil Eye in High Elven; The Burning Eye in Low Elven; and in High Alytian, to those few priests and paladins who know and understand his methods, he is simply The Observer.
Age: Roughly 4350. It's been longer than that, but at some point you just start counting in decades for sake of ease.
Race: Demon
Background: The full life story of a demon as old as Baero'moroke is much too lengthy to explain to one with such important business as Lord Ahriman. Suffice to say, however, describing his character will help to explain most of it.
You see, many of those working to break the so-called Heroes of the Goddess have personal reasons for it. They have been personally wronged by the Church of Clionism and its minions, or they've found direct issue with the Heroes and their unfair advantages in the world compared to the native inhabitants, or they are simply brainwashed into their role as opposition. Some might even consider this among demons: even the mighty are not immune to emotion, and some fall foul of fear or fury so fervently.
Daero'moroke is different. He is, simply put as possible, a narcissistic dick with a bad case of anti-social personality disorder, and a distinctly deadened sense of empathy as a result. He can appreciate individual beings, but moreso based on what they give him than what he feels for them. A useless tool is of no value to him - and to be frank, most mortals are only useful to him as toys to manipulate into doing things against their better interests. He gets joy out of this, you see, finding it amusing to twist mortal wants until they ruin everything they have for themselves, and especially finds screwing with those silly little Heroes a fascinating exercise in figuring out what makes them tick, then pulling at the gears until they break apart - even if those gears prove infuriatingly resilient more often than not.
Rarely directly, though. His true form is monstrous, but he has a variety of alternate guises to work with in place of that: human forms, of noble and Clionistic approach amongst others, and a form that one might very well mistake for angelic if one were foolish... as many Heroes are. Much more often, he will send minions or spells out to gather information about the world, then send it back to him to build up his knowledge ever further, and track down people who might be of interest to him.
The main things that have been holding him back to date are but twofold - middling demonic power, and a distinct lack of ambition. He already enjoys what he does, after all; why change that? Well, when the Demon King demands your presence, and asks that you help make a concerted effort to wipe out the Heroes and the Goddess' influence in the world as a whole... there is rarely much one can do to protest. Even if it means working with... admittedly-unusual mortal allies.
[br]
Skills and Abilities:Physical - If Lord Ahriman were interested in raw power, he'd stop at Medai and sic her on the continent. As it is, Daero'moroke is of noteworthy strength, speed, and durability even when not tapping into his full power, and can outmatch even most Heroes at his utmost - but then, it's not "most" Heroes that prove a problem, but the single Hero who gets strong enough to slay the Demon King. At that point, and consequently with a great many demons, he cannot simply beat them senseless. Magical - Likewise, for raw magical output, Ophidias Seht would do just fine. Daero'moroke is, in fact, quite the magus in and of himself, with quite a range of reasonable offensive and defensive magicks to hand - but, more pertinently, a great many magicks to support his primary capabilities, including ideas along the lines of scrying, charms, hexes, conceptual interference, seals both consensual and non-consensual, and two very pertinent spells: the power to split off tiny slivers of his own soul, ensconsing them either within a subordinate or as their own fairy-like entities to acquire information and relay it directly back to him; and a sort of internal library of memories, exceptionally valuable for organising inputs on the scale of thousands, even tens of thousands of hours of time each day, enough to drive a mortal mind mad. Naturally, he outranks the majority of mortal mages, and in theory could scale up nigh-indefinitely, but the minute losses from splintering one's soul (even if it heals gradually) and relatively discrete use of this power take their toll on his final output. Mental - No. What sets Daero'moroke apart from the rabble is his intensely manipulative, and moreover exceptionally organised mindset. He is smart, that is clear, but it is bent toward using others to get what he wants, and ensuring he has every single piece on the table just in case he needs some for later. It is rare that there is something of importance happening in the land which he doesn't know about, and even rarer for others to know when he is actively meddling with it. Indeed, he prefers to gather as many pieces of a puzzle as possible before striking at its heart, if he has to be physically involved at all; and in the rare cases where he deigns to brute force an event, he prefers to be precise, delicate, a scalpel rather than a hammer, attacking suddenly and using just enough power to win the fight so as to avoid drawing attention to himself.
Quips: He defies the concept of the Bishonen Line when it comes to transformations. He is also more than aware of many of his "companions'" own flaws and desires.
'One of "them"?' Miriam asked curiously. 'As in an Indian reservation? Ohh... if I could get- but that wouldn't fit in the scope of the novel, would it? Mmmm...' That was a pity. If she had the ability to get some more... but, for safety reasons, it'd probably be best if she didn't, ultimately. And again, that was a dreadful, dreadful shame.
In the meantime, more creatures! Including one based on Hattie herself. She made a note to ask about them during the interview with the older woman; in the meantime, she nodded, took a look at the map to find their location, and then moved with the rest of the group toward their designated search zone.
Accepting the gloves and scarf gratefully- Ravenclaw, eh?- Miriam put on the scarf first, followed by one of the gloves. Handmade, too! Hattie clearly knew her stuff, and she had to say, she was beyond impressed. This was the sort of work that came from years of practice... in fact, it'd be a perfect note for her novel. Pulling out her phone, she typed out the experience in short notes - "Hattie, older lady, highly skilled crafter, scarf of various fibres, deerskin gloves".
And good thing she pulled the phone out, too. Dangerous animals were one thing, those had been researched and catalogued already... but the lore on cryptids! Quickly, she tapped in details as the strange man, Elias, babbled about them, drawing parallels to commonly-referenced creatures in turn. Pagwadijinini, mischievous gnomes, possibly akin to older fey-like beings in Europe. Widjigo? Wendigo, clearly, but under a much truer name - worth looking into if plausible. Bi-bon, Northern Winds, Father Winter... damn, there was so much this man knew! He'd make for an excellent character in and of himself! In fact, as she put her phone away and pulled on the other glove, she resolved to ask about those other cryptozoology concepts.
'Mister Malkinson, Miss Hattie, if we get time later, I'd like to interview you both more thoroughly,' Miriam requested, smiling under the scarf. 'You seem to have great insights into this area, and um, your knowledge might be exactly what I need for my next book.'
'Miriam Holdstead, pleasure to meet you all,' she uttered from within the hood of her coat. She had to be frank, she did love the snow... there was a way to have too much of a good thing; somebody getting lost in a blizzard was one of those. And even if she wasn't overwhelmed with cold, thanks to her trusty, lovely coat of course, even she could admit it was quite frosty today. Beyond that...
'Miss Hattie, was it?' she asked the older woman. 'Um, I think I would like to borrow some of those gloves and scarves, if that's okay.' She didn't want to impose- she never did seek to take from people- but if they were being offered, then there was no point going out under-prepared in weather like this.
Physical Description: Miriam is light-skinned, about 5'4" tall, and weighs 120 lbs. Her hair runs down her back in an elegant brown curtain, and her eyes are hazel in tone. Her usual clothing includes fairly decorative shirts, stretchy jeans, and most of the time a thick puffy pink coat, especially with the decreasing temperature of the town.
Age: 23
Relationship with Hildon: Miriam is an out-of-towner, somebody who heard about Hildon's quiet, unassuming atmosphere, and visited the town to gain inspiration for her next book, for she is...
Occupation: A writer! More specifically, she is a semi-professional novellist with the one book under her belt to date: Holding Down the Light, an adventure novel about a woman gathering allies from across the lands to deal with a great threat, and in turn making those allies into unexpected friends. She hopes Hildon will help her gather more insight into small-town life, and thus grant an idea of how to base a tale within the borders of a similar town in her writing.
Useful Supplies: -Pepper spray, for self-defense -Bersa Thunder 380CC, a concealed carry pistol with a magazine loaded and one spare, for when the pepper spray doesn't work or is simply unavailable -Big puffy pink coat, kind of a personal effect she enjoys, but perhaps the only thing keeping her from freezing in current temperatures
Backstory: Miriam's life has been fairly plain - no overly-destructive family members or anything, but born in an area with a lot of interesting stories to tell. Her home city of San Francisco was highly multi-cultural, especially for the United States, and simply by looking around, one could find all sorts of people to talk with about all kinds of things! One of her favourite people was a homeless man named Joshua, who had tried and failed to write several books, falling on hard times until he was living under bridges. A tragedy, but Miriam made firm friends with him as a teenage girl, and with her help over many years managed to get him back into an apartment and back into writing, be it for himself or for an audience.
This proved something to her: anyone could succeed with the right support, and anyone could be brought back to their feet in the same way. Inspired to become a writer, both by her experiences with the populace and by Joshua's tale specifically, she authored her first book at 22, an adventure novel called Holding Down the Light, to reasonable enough success. Seeking further inspiration, she has come to the small town of Hildon to see what might inspire her next... the inspiration in question is probably not the sort she was expecting, however.
Soon, the end came. The end of the cell... and surely, their lives too. She should have stopped and let them kill her when she had the chance... now, with no hope for any of them, it was too late. And her ankle was sore beyond reason... she slumped to her knees, awaiting the rending pain and subsequent silence.
And then they fell through a magic hole. Why not, they were already dying... or... wait, they were falling... oh shit, they were falling! For the first time in a while, Alina panicked, yelling with primal fear, flailing desperately for something to grab hold of as a pinprick of light opened up into a flood beneath them- and they landed on a pile of moss.
She had not landed on her ankle directly. But hell if it wasn't still agonising to try and stand up on it. She needed a minute... or two, or... it was probably fully broken by now. Crap. The pain did eventually subside, though, and she managed to stand with most of her weight on her good foot, examining the cavern. It was... pretty. Better than the prison, and far better than that godawful cell.
And just as one of the girls asked what they'd do now, two more creatures showed up, these looking more like tiny demons than anything. Anti-cherubs? Hell, not more monsters... or? No, one was leaving, stating its intent to go and get its mistress, whilst the other just sat down and watched them, laughing every so often.
Okay, fine. Sure. She was present, she'd survived the twinned nightmares of the university-prison and the ash cell. She could handle this. What could she do first? She could, she could... ask questions? Maybe to the one who was still there, yeah.
Physical Description: Miriam is light-skinned, about 5'4" tall, and weighs 120 lbs. Her hair runs down her back in an elegant brown curtain, and her eyes are hazel in tone. Her usual clothing includes fairly decorative shirts, stretchy jeans, and most of the time a thick puffy pink coat, especially with the decreasing temperature of the town.
Age: 23
Relationship with Hildon: Miriam is an out-of-towner, somebody who heard about Hildon's quiet, unassuming atmosphere, and visited the town to gain inspiration for her next book, for she is...
Occupation: A writer! More specifically, she is a semi-professional novellist with the one book under her belt to date: Holding Down the Light, an adventure novel about a woman gathering allies from across the lands to deal with a great threat, and in turn making those allies into unexpected friends. She hopes Hildon will help her gather more insight into small-town life, and thus grant an idea of how to base a tale within the borders of a similar town in her writing.
Useful Supplies: -Pepper spray, for self-defense -Bersa Thunder 380CC, a concealed carry pistol with a magazine loaded and one spare, for when the pepper spray doesn't work or is simply unavailable -Big puffy pink coat, kind of a personal effect she enjoys, but perhaps the only thing keeping her from freezing in current temperatures
Backstory: Miriam's life has been fairly plain - no overly-destructive family members or anything, but born in an area with a lot of interesting stories to tell. Her home city of San Francisco was highly multi-cultural, especially for the United States, and simply by looking around, one could find all sorts of people to talk with about all kinds of things! One of her favourite people was a homeless man named Joshua, who had tried and failed to write several books, falling on hard times until he was living under bridges. A tragedy, but Miriam made firm friends with him as a teenage girl, and with her help over many years managed to get him back into an apartment and back into writing, be it for himself or for an audience.
This proved something to her: anyone could succeed with the right support, and anyone could be brought back to their feet in the same way. Inspired to become a writer, both by her experiences with the populace and by Joshua's tale specifically, she authored her first book at 22, an adventure novel called Holding Down the Light, to reasonable enough success. Seeking further inspiration, she has come to the small town of Hildon to see what might inspire her next... the inspiration in question is probably not the sort she was expecting, however.
Hello, I am me from the internet. I migrated here from Kongregate's Forum Games Forum, so feel free to look for me there if you wish to follow a career in internet stalking people. (ಠ_ಠ) ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)
[url=https://www.roleplayerguild.com/topics/173815-static-tabs-do-not-take-up-internet-bctheentitys-character-links/ooc]A link to some of my past characters, which I need because static tabs do not take up internet.[/url]
[center][u]Infamous Quotes From People Who Exist[/u][/center]
“I really don’t follow how your faith believes its perfectly acceptable to doom 4,000 years plus of sentient beings, on a pre-set path of no escape from sin, just so their descendants can be offered the ‘chance of salvation’ when the god murders its own son.”
~vikaTae
“Don’t be an ass or a pussy, ’lest you get screwed by life. Being a mouth or a hand is somewhat safer, and an eye socket is pretty much sacred in this regard, so always keep a look out.”
~BCLEGENDS
<div style="white-space:pre-wrap;">Hello, I am me from the internet. I migrated here from Kongregate's Forum Games Forum, so feel free to look for me there if you wish to follow a career in internet stalking people. (ಠ_ಠ) ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)<br><br><a href="https://www.roleplayerguild.com/topics/173815-static-tabs-do-not-take-up-internet-bctheentitys-character-links/ooc">A link to some of my past characters, which I need because static tabs do not take up internet.</a><br><br><div class="bb-center"><span class="bb-u">Infamous Quotes From People Who Exist</span></div><br>“I really don’t follow how your faith believes its perfectly acceptable to doom 4,000 years plus of sentient beings, on a pre-set path of no escape from sin, just so their descendants can be offered the ‘chance of salvation’ when the god murders its own son.”<br>~vikaTae<br><br>“Don’t be an ass or a pussy, ’lest you get screwed by life. Being a mouth or a hand is somewhat safer, and an eye socket is pretty much sacred in this regard, so always keep a look out.”<br>~BCLEGENDS</div>
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Strosivadan
Fetzen
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Enigmatik
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