Hellis

Broken Circle: Arcana Americana

The lands of the old magical ways~~

Broken Circle: Arcana Americana

Welcome onboard you two! Happy to have you both here.

Broken Circle: Arcana Americana

True Name: Lars Vinter
Taken Name: Johnny Rune
Given Name: Johan Hök

Appearence: s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/8d/c..

Johnny stands a good 6'3 tall, with sharp and distinguished features. His mane of hair is usually seen in a side cut, his ears have a few piercings from his more rebellious phase in life. His eyes are a stark, cold blue. His torso is riddled with old Norse tattoos. Complicated designs of magical runes are carved into his back, a spiral of Fhark runes that end with the Odin rune in blood red across his neck.

Age: 30

Personality: Johny Rune is a uneasy mixture of easy going charisma, short temper and the foulest mouth you'll ever meet. Johny is the type who hates having to push himself, and who will talk before taking action. He is a wretched soul, who has allowed his life be consumed by selfpity and alcohol. But despite his less then ideal state of mind, the man is armed with a wit and arsenal of swearwords that'd make a demon blush.

Despite his many flaws, at his core Johnny is a bleeding heart humanitarian, who would willingly suffer so others don't have to.

Nature of magic: Arcane Purity/Ceremonial

Magic practice:
Runemagic: A practitioner of the old Norse ways, Johan uses runes as his primary language of magic. He inscribes runes into objects to make them in to talisman of varying degrees of use. Mainly, he uses his connection to the stream to infuse these talismans directly. He has spent his past 11 years as a magus to control the influx of power to achieve this. Most his magic is still conducted to rituals, as to temper the power within him.

Brief bio:

Johan Hök was born to a family in northern Sweden. As it were, Johan was born in the middle of a very harsh, unforgiving winter. His father, Emil Hök wished for the boy to be named Johan, while his Mother would call him "Vinter barn" or "Child of Winter." Thus was it fate that ordained Johan to grow up as Winter to those of magic, Johan to the normal world. Johan was never interested in his parents profession as fishers, but instead sought out archeology. Thats when he discovered runes. Learning rune scripture was hard but somehow very close to heart for the boy.

Under the tutelage of a old Rune Priest however, Johan where to enter the shadowy sub realm of humanity. That of fey, magicians and demons. Johan was always a believer of the ways of old. And when he researched deeper onto the magic that vikings once utilized, he found himself in a magicians circle. The Circle consisted by a actual rune priest, his two students: Johan and a girl named Agatha and old African shaman that were interested in how this kind of magic worked.

Under the Priests tutelage Johan were soon versatile and powerful in his magic. An avid student he was very good at the basics. His training however were to see an abrupt end. Trough magic not witnessed in decades a troll somehow awakened. The circle along with pretty much all of the magicians in that part of Sweden rushed to put it to back into slumber.

The problem with trolls however: They are immune to much of our magic. Of course, Johan had the brilliant idea to carve runes onto his own body. An act most unpleasant and forbidden and the result was immediate. For a brief moment Johan became a beacon of arcane power, being able to channel enough into his circle to empower everyone. The troll was vanquished, but it left Johan broken in body and soul. His mind was faced with a powerful addiction to raw magic, and his body wrecked by nerve damage. The Rune Priest sent Johan abroad to avoid his student from being taken to trial by upset and outraged magicians. Johan left for the US without even knowing his old Mentors name. A privilege that he was days away from learning before it all went to hell.

Johan tried to live a normal life. He failed. He grew up, got a wife but fell into depression due to his nightmares and the constant onslaught of magic related things he had to hide. He had become a magnet to lesser creatures that felt his bodys innate power. He was later divorced after it all became to much for both him and his wife. Now he finds himself with a whole new set of nightmares. Ones he shares with a lot of people. Those of a giant...

Arcana Americana (Urban Fantasy/Horror RP)

I added the link to the OOC

Arcana Americana (Urban Fantasy/Horror RP)

Allo there. Figured I'd plop a revised, revamped and remade version of the very first RP I ever did on RPG.

Synopsis

Broken Circle; Arcana Americana

The world is full of hidden, terrible places. Of secrets both arcane and twisted. Gods exist and so does demons. Every myth you can think off exist in one form or another. How it all works? Nobody really know. Parallel to our world exist many much weirder, stranger realities. Some of these realities house creatures who feed of our worship: Gods. Other are realms of untold powers, arcane streams or elemental forces unleashed to its full potential. Humanity have always known this, deep inside. We search out these things, looking for answers, protection and guidance.

Today, most of us have forgotten this connection. Magic is now replaced with Science. Our answers can be seen, they can explained. But there are those of of us who know more exist beyond the law of physics. We are magicians. From the Vodoo Priests of Haiti, to the Shamans up in coldest Europe. Most magicians are just street performers, slight of hand tricksters. Some however, have stepped into the dark underbelly of the world and made pacts. Some have tracked down ancient ritual texts and found it trough forbidden books. Some of us are brave enough to directly tap into the Arcane.

As a rule. Most of us live short, spectacular lives. This is the story of a loosely connected bunch of practitioners from different walks of life, who made New York their home for the past year, finding themselves travelling trough America, hunting a mysterious man who plagues their dreams. This trip will snake across all manner of places and locations, many which will have a personal connection to the characters.

The magic in this is powerful but subdued. Its not a matter of summoning fireball and being a badass. All magic comes with a price and the way to go about it differs. You either got your powers from a pact, in which you are already contracted to some other being to lend their power. Or you draw it from the Arcane realities, risking everyone and your own life every time you draw on it. Or you are using ceremonial magic, which is safe but time consuming.

roleplayerguild.com/topics/86649-broke..

Devils For Hire; Broken Nation

03:00, Local Time, Colombia.

The V-Tol engines of the black and red painted ”Eagle” dropship screamed as the transport skimmed the foilage of the trees. Underneath them, the jungle spread out in every direction like a green sea. Every now and then, small villages broke the rustling, massive canopy. Some of them abandoned, people favoring the cities and leaving their ancestral homes. Others still lively with farmers and the occasional tourist who didn't fear kidnapping or mosquitos.

Sitting wedged in between Jackal and Spectre, sat one 35 year old, grouchy looking Brazilian. He was called Armored Cheetah or just Cheetah by his peers. He wore a special made kevlar and plating suit. It was hotter then hell inside, and the man remembered why he preffered working for the Russians up north all of the sudden. He felt like he was going to melt into a puddle before they had even started. The display inside his helmet brought up the current humidity and he frowned.

”Allright” The voice of Baskerville cut trough static as everyones com-units were activated. ”We are in Cortez territory. Aside from being a really scary fucker with 20 years of FARC leadership under his belt, he also doesn't like foreign firepower on his turf. The guy we are hitting is Hao Nung, a Viatnamese national who defected. He has been heading Cortez latest venture into biochemistry. High End designer drugs from the sound of it. But there are murmering Hao Nung is actually a bioweapon specialist. His existence scares more then a few” Baskerville was a former SAS and RAF, a really oldschool type of soldier who taken to becoming a reliable source of airlifts and air support for Devils everywhere. The man, pushing 50, was one of the best pilots on the market. If their clients had payed for him to fly them in, the money was indeed covering up a tough operation.

”The Cortez Cartel have been moving north, likely shoring up for a conflict with the Mexicans. This has left gaps we can use. Nung is currently in one of Cortez compounds in this jungle. We know, becouse our client got a tracker smuggled in with equipment Nung bought for expanding the cartels production. It finally slowed down as it set down in a clearing. As its deadly payload dissembarked, Barskerville left a last message.

”Hit em hard. Hit em quick. The earlier you get out, the less we have to worry about Mr Cortez and his tendecies.” With that the Eagle lifted, and took to the skies. Leaving the mercenaries in a jungle full of possible ambushes and traps. Luckily for them, the Cortez Cartell had no way of knowing a crew of Devils were heading their way. The Eagle was state of the art, whatever radar or detection the Cartel used, it would not have detected the quick drop ship.

”Alright Devils. We know the drill.” Miguel said as he let his eyes sweep the tree line of the glade. The servos in his suit whirred as he strained to look around. Yeah, fuck the jungle, it was dense and full of terror. To many places for ambushes. He had made Europe his stomping ground for a reason, far away Colombia, Brazil and their bullshit Cartels and Favela gangs. ”Jackal. If you would take the front.” He turned to their resident Veteran. ”Hey Claymore." He said in a low tone. "How you wanna run this?"

Around them, the forest rusled with the life of local fauna.

Broken Circle: Arcana Americana

Staring into the Mirror, a dreary and sleep deprived face stared back at the rugged looking blonde. HE grimaced, as if trying to chear the mirror version of him up. He wondered idly if he had been slipped something at the Station. But no, hardly any such luck he was sure. This was some sort of psychological mumbo jumbo. Johnny didn't have a Patron per say. He payed his respects to the Norse Pantheon in different ways from time to time. He wore a Thors hammer next to his old ring around ihs neck. He wrote runes, but he never communed directly to his gods. He had met elves, feries and unfortunately, a Troll. He knew about his world being something of a intersection. But this was new. This was unrelated to his connection to the Arcane Puritas; The Stream.

The Stream, a living, pulsing form of raw power. It leaked from its world to this and his stupid carcass picked it up like a siphon. He was a beacon for nasties of all kinds, and every night his dreams were tinged by surreal things from the edge of his own sanity. This night though, the dream had been not his own, but ALIEN. It had not belonged to his mind, or the stream. He groaned before he cracked his neck a little and then almost slipped on a whiskey bottle in his living room. The mans home was much like himself, a mess. It also smelled like he did by the end of most days, of whiskey. He looked around, picked up the bottle and went to put along the others in the kitchen. His very own little altar to his life of self pity.

Grumbling, he pulled on a pair of clean, black pants, slipped on a white and blue striped shirt, some suspenders and a pair of rugged looking worker boots. As he all but kicked his own door open, he grabbed his blue trenchcoat and wrapped it around himself. The inside lit up briefly as his arcane riddled body activated the runes he had painstakingly sewed into its inside.

”Lets see.” He mumbled as he flipped trough his phone. ”17 messages? Odins eye. That is a lot” He flipped trough them and his face paled. They were all from a friend of his, A seer. A talented one. Madamme Jones was New Yorks oldest seer. Her husband, Dr N'gabi Jones was a respected voodoo practitioner who legend had it, battled the Ku Klux Klan affiliated magicians back in the day. The woman herself was the most regal, most dignified person Johnny had ever met, and her visions were something you rarely asked for, because their accuracy was unnerving and tended to have people in a mild states of panic.

”Come to Station 7, Now. Your life may be in danger.” Read the last message. She had never let him down before. And if she was this frank, he wasn't taking any chances. He went right back up his apartment, rummaged for a bit and found a old snub nosed revolver he had hidden underneath some tiles in his bathroom. He slipped it into his inner pocket and headed right back out. He was having a creeping feeling of paranoia as he walked the streets, Worst then any he ever had before.

He made it to the club without incident however, giving the massive woman of a bouncer a nod before he shuffled down the stairs, trough the maintance door that led down further stairs and then into the main bar. The music was low and subdued, the lightning only slightly dimmed. IT was in the middle of the day and only a few had visited so far. One old man, who looked like he may be homeless, sat in one corner, reading his fortune trough a rats entrails. Johnny nodded to him. The man, who some people knew simply as The Rat, nooded back.

Johnny slowed his steps as to not look to much in a hurry and headed right for the backrooms. He found The Madamme sitting at a small table, looking regal as ever. But beneath that exterior he saw tense, on the edge nerves. Johnny sat down infront of her.

”What's all this then Madamme. I am paranoid as it is.” Johnny complained as he fixed the woman with a business like, if a bit nervous look.

”Hush child. You do not know what is coming.” Madamme spoke, and Johnnys blood felt like it had frozen in his veins. He felt a shiver up his spine from the sheer intensity of her words

”What is coming..:” He asked, blinking as if blinded by a sudden light.

”I do not know it true nature. I have called some others aswell. Some people you may have met. They to have seen it. Seen him.” Madamme spoke in her unmistakenly haiti grown accent. Her mannerism was relaxing somewhat, now that she had Johnny there. But the edge never went from her voice or her eyes.

”Oh..” Johnny spoke quietly. There had been others who seen him? Seen the same dream. ”Oh fuck me.” This was something else. He was being dragged down into something nasty, he could feel it.

”Language.” Admonished the old lady, and Johnny scratched the back of his head. ”Sorry Madamme.” They sat in silence, awaiting the other arrivals.

GM NOTICE:

You all have received a note, a message on your cellphone or a messenger of some kind, calling you to the club. Madamme Jones is one of the heaviest hitters in the NY magic underground. Being called by her tells you exactly how important it is for you to meet with her. If you need to interact with her in your post, hit me up and we'll collab the exchange.

Arcana Americana [Urban Fantasy, Road trip; Horror; Charachter Driven]

Bump

Arcana Americana [Urban Fantasy, Road trip; Horror; Charachter Driven]

The OOC here: roleplayerguild.com/topics/86649-broke..

Broken Circle: Arcana Americana

Rules:
Do not treat the magic like a "super power." Magic is not a bunch of named "attacks" in the vein of most animes and videogames. There are guidelines in place as to how magic works.

PM Me your Applications.

Follow the site rules. 

Take up any complaints with me, the GM.

Enjoy yourselves.

Prologue

Within a darkness so thick it might just be tangible and hidden beneath endless dead catacombs rests a giant. This hulking mass of malice has no name that human tongues could ever twist into words. His presence is like a malignant tumor on all of magic. He is a Giant, the anti-thesis of godhood. And he was angry. His two red eyes flung wide open and stared down at another presence before him. A creature smaller then the bright suns that passed for for the giants eyes. Yet it stood unflinching under its unforgiving gaze.

The other presence was shaped lie a man. His clothing a a suit and tie, expensive and oddlooking on his near skeletal frame. His smile cleaved his face in the most disturbing way. And his eyes burned with brimstone while his teeth are that of needles. He observes the chained giant before peering into a book that rested in his hands. As his lips moves his voice seem sweet and sickly, like that of rot.

“You sleep in the abode of gods, where devinity go to die. You lie among the bones of celestial might, forgotten by all but the most ancient of existence.” This earned him a roar that shook the very dimension they stood within. ”You predate creation. You were never named, so in truth, your power is endless.” The creature shifted restlessly as it settles on its hunches. The man closed his book. ”I name you. End of All Things.”

---
You saw this dream. You belong to a group of magicians, loosely connected trough common contacts or hangout places, New York is a big place but there are only so many places a magician can go to be among his peers. You have your own secrets, your own dark places you wish not go. Magic does not come cheap, and learning its secrets, be it trough family tradition or chancing upon a magical being, is learning of a world best left alone. Each of you now share the same dreams. You know that world is full of hidden, terrible places. Full Of secrets both arcane and twisted. Gods exist and so does demons. Every myth you can think off exist in one form or another. How it all works? Nobody really know. Parallel to our world exist many much weirder, stranger realities. Some of these realities house creatures who feed of our worship: Gods. Other are realms of untold powers, arcane streams or elemental forces unleashed to its full potential. Humanity have always known this, deep inside. We search out these things, looking for answers, protection and guidance. And somewhere among these worlds something terrible is unraveling. And somehow you know you have to chase this strange man down.

Vital Setting Info Below

Magic is real, But let's not tell the masses shall we?

Magics a latent ability that most people ,if taught or guided, can draw upon. It was common in old religions, prominent in darker, less enlightened times. These days people turn to science for answers, and they are right in doing so, as Magic hold very few answers. Magic is a constant riddle, a metaphor given power. Laws of nature bends to it, using it comes with rules that constantly shift and grow ever more complicated. It demands a concentrated and calm mind, but draws on raw emotions and the energies of various cosmic and mythical sources.

But in turning to logic and science, magic no longer exist to the mundane. It is considered fantasy and nothing more. To the new enlightened humanity, Magic now belong with old folklore, and the magic they see is but slight of hand and trickery. But this world harbors secrets. Practicioners still exist. Some hide, some live in the limelight as stage magicians, disguising their talents with that of parlor tricks. In the north there are still people who worship the Norse gods, who still know the runes, in the
Not to mention the many creatures who work for or against humanity, the old ancient horrors, the biblical beasts and the genies of old Arabic folklore. They exist, they live within their own realms but crosses into our world every now and then. Not often, and often twarted by those in the know. But as of late, things are slowly taking a turn for worse. Human agents of said beings have been growing more impatient, more careless in their secrecy. Their summonings have grown more frequent as if they are lost in their ways. And Magicians from all over the world have been having the same dream. A giant being who chill them to their very soul. And the man with the book, naming the creature.



-The Realms of magic-

Magic isn't as simple as summoning fireballs or shooting lightning out of your fingertip. Forget all you were taught by fantasy wizards in pointy hats. No, these forces are living entities, powerful in their own rights even without a wielder. Vibrant energies you have to weave and bend to your will. And they all come from different places, different worlds. The ways you can use magic and its sources are diverse and infinitely complex in nature.

The worlds beyond ours do not mirror our own, they have their own laws of physics. Their own rules.

Ours is the realm of mortals, known as Earth, Terra, Gaia and any number of other names. It is governed by the laws of physics, it can be understood and tamed by human science. Our world can only manifest magic from extremely driven minds and powerfull emotions. And even then, mostly by tapping in to one of the other realms. There are still places of power, where leylines intersect. Here, the veil between our world and others is thinner, and the Arcane leak into our world.

Aside from our world there are atleast nine different versions of what we reffer to as the biblical version of hell and there appears to also exist the four hellish plains of Gehenna among many other underworlds, such as the Hellonic Hades and Norse Hel. There is believed to exist 7 realms that make out different forms of what the Abrahamic religions refer to as 'heaven'. But don't think your soul will go there if you are a good christian just becouse a version of heaven appears to exist. Nobody knows how the celestial planes work. None has ever ascended from those to speek to us, nor has anyone tapped into them, unlike how Demons of all kinds seem to really enjoy humans.

In midst of all this exist the Undying Realms. They are places of negative, necrotic energies. Tapping into them is suicide, the energies there devour magic and eats away all living things. These are the places of eternal darkness where gods go to die. Each Undying Realm is ruled by a forsaken god that's older then earths history itself.
There is the Realms of Elements, four in total. Here fires, water, air and earth are in constant shift, vying for dominance.

One of the most well known is the Stream. Among magicians of any calibre, this is the name given to the dimension of pure arcane energy. A constant, never running dry, source of magic. Like a powerline.

There are the Fey Lands where the folklore of old have retreated to. There are the Fields of Ulysses, where the old pantheon of the Greeks supposedly reside. There is Asgard, where the old Norse gods now sleep, supposedly dead from Ragnarok, of them only Balder seem to lend any power. The amount of worlds is seemingly endless, and it is all about finding a creature, ritual or other manner of connecting to them. Each able to lend unique strengths to those that opens its doors. There is a price however. Power always has a price. One does not strike deals with the powers that be without paying their dues. Every magician have to deal with the consequences and backlashes of their choices. Magic demands sacrifices, personal or trivial. They demand dedication and rituals. Be it carving runes into wood or making summoning circles with salt. Magic is flexible and amazing but it's also risky and wild. Some magic is gotten trough actual deals with entities such as demons and fey. These deals are the basis to contract magic.

Types of magic.

People categorize magic into three groups, divided by the source of magic. They are Contract, Arcane Purity and Ritual magic. They each provide different strengths and weaknesses. They all hold different prizes and tributes.

Contracts

Contracts: Trough contracts with mystical beings a magician may achieve great powers. Its a two way street however. Contracts are with a price, and the contractor might find the price a bit to steep at times. A good example would be Faust, selling his soul to a devil. Envoking contract magic usually means you have to summon the power in words or symbols. Such as calling upon the fires of hell or the spirits of the dead. If you are contracted, your faith is also at the mercy of your patron. There are many who have used their power only for

Arcane Purity

Arcane Purity: The riskiest is Arcane Purity. These are the mages that take directly from the Stream. They dont have to deal with rituals or contracts and thus skirt having to give up something in turn or to take careful preparation. But the trade off is the fact that Arcane Purity is a bomb , set to explode at any given moment. The pull of the Stream is great, the euphoria of power incarnate is more addicting then any drug. And Mages may find them self so bristling with power that they actually explode. In order to use Arcane Purity, one need a powerful focus such as a rare jewel or carefully prepared talismans. These wither and break in time and being seperated from it means you have to draw the magic raw.

Ritual Magic

Ritual Magic:
Most common Ritual magic mostly safe but slow. Ritual magic draws on the power of the different realms as well as surrounding energies. Its a way of building connections with other planes or your surroundings without signing a pact or bruteforcing trough the stream. The results are all depending on the effort, the people and the ritual itself. Its wide spread and seen in common fashion within old world, pre-christianty religions. While most modern day rituals are watered down and practiced by people who do not believe or understand their power, many magicians rely heavily this kind of magic.

[Hider=Magic Glossery]
True Name: In magic there is such a thing as your True Name. Its intimately tied to your very essence, it embodies you. Names have always held importance in religions as well, such as Drudism and Neo-Pagan Wickans and Voodoo. Even in Christianity, the name of a Demon is vital to exorcise it. To let creatures and magicians know your name is to give them full control and forfeit your life and freedom. As such, most magicians have at least three names. Their Given Name, given at birth. Their True Name, found within themselves during their life of arcane and mysticism. And there Taken Name, the name they wish to go by among other magicians.
[/quote]

Profile skeleton.

Name: 

True Name: 
Taken Name:
Given Name:

Age: 19 at the lowest. The older you the more sense it makes that you know a fair bit of magic. 45 as the oldest. The younger you play the less respected, powerfull and the experienced you are. Withing the world of magic experience is power. Keep this in mind.

Personality:

Nature of magic: (see magic section.)

Magic practice: (What are you? Voodoo priest? Witch doctor? Priest? Illusionist, necromancer? Any magic practice goes as long as its not to High Fantasy. Magic in this taxing and tricky. It is a matter of intelligence and wit, will and planning.)

Brief bio: Keep it condensed. I don't ask for much. I need to know what makes your character unique. What define him. A little back story.