Obscene Symphony

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So what you're saying is on the seventh day he rose again?
Wait fuck that's wrong isn't it

Thermonuclear Magic: A World War II Fantasy

Aaron does not disappoint. Hilarious.

two relevant plot things:
- I think it's cool that not all of, or even the majority of, our characters are opposed to the Nazis to start out with. That'll probably change once the Nazis start shooting at them, but there's a lot of room for character development here and that'll be fun.
- @Obscene Symphony Aaron and Klaus are probably good friends because a) it makes things convenient plotwise and b) they've both been at Humboldt for forever, so it's plausible. thoughts?

@Kierkegaard

Thank you, I try.
I have no issue with that, it definitely makes sense. Not to mention Klaus is just too fun to interact with not to have some excuse to do so.

**EDIT I also like how most of our characters aren't opposed to the Nazis. I mean, it's great to be on the right side of history, but these people either/both don't know any better and have almost no choice. Frankly, I'm tired of seeing people playing characters with unrealistic views for the era, you know?

Darkness Within (A Dark themed rp)

<Snipped quote by Obscene Symphony>

What if, by enslaving 1000 people into a monster-army, you can save the lives of a million? WHAT THEN?

And - to answer the question nobody has asked but everyone is thinking- yes, I'm just using this insane moral debate to procrastinate.

@Hael

I like your commitment. You remind me of me.

Thermonuclear Magic: A World War II Fantasy

“Mathis, you are missing a finger and I’m the one emphasizing the importance of safety gloves? I mean, even without the particular risks in this line of work-“

The subject of Aaron’s lecture didn’t seem concerned, leaning away to mock Klaus in the other room. Aaron massaged the bridge of his nose, trying to force his eyes to open wider and stay that way.

Evidently, Mathis’ comment was not well-recieved, if the erupting canister of rubbing alcohol were any indication. Both men covered their faces, a string of obscenities spewing from Mathis.

“Jesus, Mary and Joseph, this man is flammable you know!” Aaron loudly exclaimed, glaring around at the rapidly evaporating mess. Huffing, he waved a (now-invisible) hand in Klaus’ direction and beckoned Mathis back over to the examination table he was supposed to be sitting on. With a heavy sigh, he continued, “Alright, enough of that. We’re almost done here, get rid of that shirt - Oh where in God’s name is that tech?”

The (usually) patient man had to pause to take a breath, donning a stethoscope as he helped Mathis out of his shirt and continued a very routine examination; heart, lungs, eyes, ears, the works. It was a thorough physical that most wealthy men only received once or twice a year, but since the launch of the Zauber Project, every researcher on the team had been getting them once or twice a week. They were also asked to keep detailed journals documenting anything that felt out of the ordinary, along with tracking how much they slept and ate and especially the details of any and all magical episodes. Aaron kept detailed notes on everything he checked, compared them with what his patients wrote and told him, and so far was coming up with less than satisfactory results.

Nothing.

One would think that occasionally combusting would at the very least raise a man’s body temperature, change his metabolism, curb his preference of temperature when he bathed, something, but nothing was changing. Klaus should have been experiencing some muscular atrophy from his occasional refusal to comply with gravity, at least a change in the blood pressure in his feet compared to his head from all the accidental floating, assuming he was simply negating gravity’s effect on his body and the objects that tended to float around him. If that were the case, he should have lost some blood volume, had a change in bone density, or at the very least suffered from Vertigo or dizziness. Jozef, the deadpan lab assistant whom Aaron still found himself a little nervous around, well, he wasn't even sure what kind of symptoms to expect from conjuring objects out of nothing. Loss of body mass? Blood clots? Sudden imploding? He didn’t have a damn clue, which only bothered him further. If nothing else, this was a medically educational opportunity comparable to his short term of residency at a military hospital.

Sighing heavily, Aaron sat down, recording his painfully normal observations into Mathis’ file and rubbing his eyes. His hands were visible once again, at least. He had coffee somewhere. It was likely cold now, wherever it had gone off to. He huffed another tired breath. “Okay, no changes, looks like. Are you sure you haven’t felt any differently lately?”

Mathis shook his head through the fabric of his shirt as he pulled it on. “Nothing, I’m telling you. And only three flare-ups this week, so far. My hair the other day, my arm yesterday - remember, the clipboard? - and my whole body this morning. Thank the Lord I didn’t lose another pair of trousers.” He grinned, blue eyes twinkling.

His gaze was met by the murky eyes of a very tired Dr. Aaron Bachmeier. Where he would normally humour Mathis with a smile, he simply ran a hand through his hair, squinting down at his clipboard and back to Mathis. “And you haven’t noticed any pain or numbness in the affected areas? Tingling? Hot flashes? Sudden, overwhelming urge to drink Petrol?”

Mathis grinned. “Nothing. I’m sleeping normally, eating normally, and touching hot things still burns.” He shrugged. “Sorry I can’t help you more.”

Aaron waved the thought lazily away. “No, no, it’s all important.” He stood, shaking Mathis’ hand, resisting the urge to choke him for not having symptoms and gesturing to the door. “Just see me immediately if anything changes, and please keep up with the journal, yeah?”

Mathis nodded, said his pleasantries, and was gone, a head of blond hair slipping through the door like so many before him. A second later, he stuck that blond head back through the door one last time. “By the way Doc, your lips disappeared. Maybe you should wear a surgical mask all the time.” His smug grin was gone before Aaron could throw a cotton ball at it.

Glancing at the nearest reflective object, which happened to be the spigot in his sink, he observed that his lips, indeed, had gone transparent. Aaron had seen enough gore in his life not to be particularly bothered by it, but it’s safe to say that the face of a man with no lips isn’t the most pleasant thing to have a conversation with. Without batting an eye, Aaron tossed his clipboard onto his desk, squared away in a small adjacent room to the lab that had become his home. He definitely spent more time there than in his pitiful little apartment. God only knew that he wasn’t sleeping. He’d become more acquainted with the medical records of his colleagues in the past few months than he had with the people themselves, and all of it was getting him nowhere. The complete lack of physical response to something as jarring as damn magic was enough to keep anyone awake at night.

Maybe he took his job too seriously, but it certainly wouldn’t look that way to anyone who walked in on the praised doctor, out cold with his head precariously balanced in his hands.

Darkness Within (A Dark themed rp)

<Snipped quote by The Omnipotent Sphere>

Precisely. Maybe he can justify his actions.

---

If someone uses slavery and torture to save lives, is the slavery/torture really that bad?

*Starts pondering deep, dark questions*
*Realizes I still haven't finished my character*

@Hael

I'd say yeah, yeah it is. XD

Darkness Within (A Dark themed rp)

@Obscene Symphony

You have no idea...... The Drakkens in my other rp have nothing on Lord Nixus ...... *evil smile*

@my Lalia

Lalia, knowing you, I feel like I should be afraid.

Of course, knowing me, you shouldn't be surprised when I say I'm intrigued.

Darkness Within (A Dark themed rp)

@Hael

Haha be careful, Lord Nixus likes to break people........

@my Lalia

This'll be an ordeal for Linta, I can feel it!

Thermonuclear Magic: A World War II Fantasy

@Kierkegaard Oh no, I truly appreciate the theories of why people think the way they do and all that jazz. Forgive my lack of eloquence, it's getting a little late here and I can't be expected to think after 10pm, haha.

As for plot ideas, so far I've just been picturing character-specific situations. I had hoped to discuss more all-encompassing plots here.

Personally, a scene that's been replaying in my mind is a very sad, self-loathing drunk scene featuring Aaron discussing his disgust toward what he's working with in terms of his religious beliefs. I've really got quite the monologue lined up, really. I feel like Ros would be a good sounding board here, since all the things he'd be spewing would be pretty incriminating as a possible threat to the ears of a spy like her.

I've got the plotting part of my brain turning non-stop, so you can probably expect a lot more where this came from.

Darkness Within (A Dark themed rp)

Voila! I'll probably be messing with her, but thar she blows.

Darkness Within (A Dark themed rp)

Linta Hohyener

Linta is well-built with wiry muscle, nothing pronounced. Her eyes are warm golden brown. Prefers practical military clothing, such as trousers, boots and jackets. Before her imprisonment, she wore a customary shortsword on her belt, more traditional than for use.

Harpy

When transformed, she takes a similar shape to the pictured, though with large tail feathers as opposed to a long tail. Her hair retains its blonde colour, but recedes in length, and her feathers take on the colour and patterning of a barn owl. Feathers grow in her hair forming somewhat of a backward-swept crest, similar to pictured.

Generic Information

Name: Linta Höhyener
Gender: Female
Age: 25
Height: 5'3
Sexuality: Hetero

Psych Profile

Traits

• Adaptive: Linta is able to adapt to new situations easily. She can blend in with peasant crowds one moment and dazzle a ballroom in the next. She can be both graceful and assertive. If the situation calls for it, she can generally fill the role.
• Combat Trained: Due to her upbringing, Linta has training in hand-to-hand combat, with and without weaponry.
• Blunt: Linta doesn't like talking in riddles. She gets straight to the point, and asserts herself in conversation. That said, she's no stranger to coyness, though that's more for fun than anything else. When talking of anything with relative importance, she doesn't fool around.
• Animal Lover: From horses to mice, Linta has an affinity for animals. Her favourites, however, are birds, specifically raptors and carrion birds.

Flaws

• Cold Front: While she is not inherently unkind or unpleasant, some find her somewhat cold at first.
• Ferocious: While true anger does not come too often (though annoyance is common) Linta's anger sets her out of her right mind; she's less tactful when angry, often letting it blind her to danger or those she's hurting.
• Headstrong: Linta has the tendency to blindly react to emotion - she often rushes into things without quite thinking them through.
• Poor Control: Linta has poor control over herself when transformed, and has a hard time resisting the urge to change. She will not denote this as weakness on her part and instead prefers to think that she has a particularly demanding monster. She's military, dammit.
• Sensitivity: Linta has considerable sensitivity to bright light and loud sound. Brightness such as going outside on a sunny day is painful, and something akin to looking right at the sun would be temporarily blinding. What’s worse, this sensitivity seems to be getting more and more serious, and she can tolerate less and less light over time. Very loud sound, especially in closed quarters, causes loud ringing in her ears and considerable pain.
• Claustrophobic: Just as the word would imply, Linta dislikes small enclosed spaces, becoming especially panicked if she has little or no room to move. Going a long while without seeing the sky drives her a little loony.
• Handless: When transformed, her arms become wings and her fingers become part of the wing, thus rendering her hands unusable.

Harpy Abilities

• Shriek: With her monster transformation came the ability to mimic bird calls, the most powerful of which is an ear-splitting shriek inherited from owls.
• Talons: In her harpy form, her loss of hands is made up for by the gain of formidable razor-sharp talons on her feet. She has little need for any other weapon while she has these.
• Senses: Her harpy transformation has given her augmented senses of hearing and sight, particularly at night.
• Stealth: Her feathers are modelled after that of an owl’s, granting her with silent flight and near-silent movement.
• Flight: She has wings. They work. She’s useful as a messenger and as a scout or spy.

Backstory:
Linta is the oldest of two siblings, together making up the most recent tier of the considerably long Höhyener line. Her family has been in command of the nation’s armies for fifteen generations, and have spawned war heroes, aristocrats, and most sacredly, generals. Raised in a strict home, it was as if she were thoroughbred for the military. From the time she could walk she was taught to ride, fight, shoot a bow and take orders. Of all the fighting styles she learned, she preferred and excelled in archery above the rest.

To say her household was a strict one is a gross understatement. Her father was military, had been raised that way, and ran the house like a platoon of soldiers. Orders were given, and by God they were followed if the subject knew what was good for them. He ran a tight ship, having his children train until they could not stand, and pushing their noses into books the rest of the time. Lord Höhyener was not a patient man and did not tolerate mediocrity, and folded his two children into the shapes of perfect officers, no matter what they had to say about it.

When she was ten, she was taught to hunt with the aid of a falcon, and had a great affinity for the sport, and was well liked by the birds. It quickly became her favourite pastime, and eventually she trained a few of the birds herself, namely a hunting falcon, a messenger raven, and her personal favourite, a barn owl named Nyala. This bird, while being trained for nighttime hunting, became a companion for Linta as well.
For a long while, Linta built herself a reputation for preferring the company of her horse or her birds than people. With the harsh regiment that awaited her in her home, it wasn’t hard to see why.

Becoming the perfect lady was never much of a priority (of course, she was taught good court manners for negotiations in the future) and marrying her off was far from her father’s goal. No, he shaped her to hunger for power, for authority, to lead men into battle as opposed to treating their wounds when they returned. Hell, by the time she was twenty she was commanding the cavalry in her father’s army, training the archers, and making important decisions in the strategy room, her brother by her side commanding the infantry and overseeing foreign affairs.

She was quick to earn the respect of her men and her title of Commander, both by proving any man who doubted her sorely mistaken and skillfully networking outside of battle. She never followed men into the (admittedly few, as the country was experiencing relative peace) battles she fought, instead leading them in the vanguard. In was during one of these battles that her horse was killed by an opposing infantryman (whom she promptly did away with) and the lower part of her right leg cleaved off with it. Though the loss was discouraging for a time, it never slowed her, though the prosthetic she wore was hardly a fitting replacement. So she walked with a relative limp, it meant nothing to her. The pain and strain on her body was trivial compared to the suffering she’d borne witness to in battle.

It was that battle which saw the death of her younger brother, Nähir. She's been coldly distant about the incident since.

When the invitation came for Nixus’ ball, she was proud to represent her family at the most prestigious event of the year. Dressed to impress, she arrived in an elaborate white, gold and silver gown, wearing a breathtaking feathered mask in the likeness of Nyala. Dresses were never much of a fashion in her family, but when she did wear them she was stunning, even despite her limp. She spent most of the night discussing military strategy and funding with some of the more influential guests, somewhat miffed that Nixus himself never made an appearance. About halfway through the evening, a servant girl came to her, claiming that Lord Nixus himself wanted an audience. Of course, she followed, hoping the could speak to him about funding for the military and the like. The increasingly disturbing air of the place did little to frighten her, though it did raise her guard. She was armed, just a dagger in one of the many folds of her skirts, but felt no need to draw.

By the time the doors locked behind her, she wished she had drawn.

Now she faces humiliation, stress, and a terrifying growing urge to let the beast take over.

Character Motivation: Linta seeks to destroy Nixus for making her a slave to him, as subserviency infuriates her. At the same time, she finds it difficult to disobey his orders, giving way to a lot of static loathing and anger.

Opinion Of Others: None so far.

Other: Linta has felt the intoxication of power that the transformation brings, and has begun to become addicted to it. Even in her natural form, parts of her monster form remain. These are namely feathers still sprouting from her hair and eyes that look a little more bird than human.
What’s more, she’s developed a disturbing appreciation for her monster form, taking some twisted pride in her new ability to fly and take on the feathers of the birds she loves so much. (This will come out later in the RP, but not quite yet)