*watches Teo and Tiny fight over electrical junk*
Wraithblade6 Member
Interrogator Chaplain
STATUS: I may not come back. It was nice playing with you all. I wish you all good lives. 6 yrs ago
- Last Seen: 6 yrs ago
- Joined: 12 yrs ago
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- Wraithblade6 12 yrs ago
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6 yrs ago
Current
I may not come back. It was nice playing with you all. I wish you all good lives.
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6 yrs ago
The fires of hell did not kill me.
9 yrs ago
No shoes no shirt and I still get service WHY?!
9 yrs ago
Too tired to post.
9 yrs ago
God told me, I've already got the life.....
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Most Recent Posts
Ok, can I have a little pyrokinesis/heat-control?
Name: Mithias
Age: Looks 27.
Looks:
History: Mithias was a Templar knight at the time of the first Inquisition. He died, but became a vampire, long story. He was free to do what he wanted: take vengeance, protect humanity, discover that there are werewolves, and struggle with the meaning of it all. He doesn't agree with the Queen, as she calls herself, nor did he agree with Dracula, but he doesn't want his species wiped out. He's an honorless rogue who will kill whatever gets in his way, if he can. The vampires loyal to the queen would probably like to cut off his head, but there's also werewolves who think they are righteous warriors trying to take him out. He's pretty pissed off about the whole modern scenario.
Special skills: Mithias is strong willed. He of course also would have learned a lot in his several centuries of unlife, such as riding, archery, swordfighting, etc., but also more modern stuff like driving, chemistry, guns, and computers.
Supernatural pyrokinesis - Mithais has only recently realized he has a small amount of heat control. He can start fires, as in light candles, and hold a small flame in his hand. He can also put these fires out and maybe even hold fire at bay from burning him to a degree. He certainly can't walk through an inferno unscathed. The range is also limited but can be controlled through walls.
He's strong, but not as strong as a werewolf, generally. He's particularly fast though.
He doesn't look human and can't pass as one unless it's at a really goth rave party.
Howl
Age: Looks 27.
Looks:
History: Mithias was a Templar knight at the time of the first Inquisition. He died, but became a vampire, long story. He was free to do what he wanted: take vengeance, protect humanity, discover that there are werewolves, and struggle with the meaning of it all. He doesn't agree with the Queen, as she calls herself, nor did he agree with Dracula, but he doesn't want his species wiped out. He's an honorless rogue who will kill whatever gets in his way, if he can. The vampires loyal to the queen would probably like to cut off his head, but there's also werewolves who think they are righteous warriors trying to take him out. He's pretty pissed off about the whole modern scenario.
Special skills: Mithias is strong willed. He of course also would have learned a lot in his several centuries of unlife, such as riding, archery, swordfighting, etc., but also more modern stuff like driving, chemistry, guns, and computers.
Supernatural pyrokinesis - Mithais has only recently realized he has a small amount of heat control. He can start fires, as in light candles, and hold a small flame in his hand. He can also put these fires out and maybe even hold fire at bay from burning him to a degree. He certainly can't walk through an inferno unscathed. The range is also limited but can be controlled through walls.
He's strong, but not as strong as a werewolf, generally. He's particularly fast though.
He doesn't look human and can't pass as one unless it's at a really goth rave party.
Howl
Now looking for more oldblood vampire clanlords, Hellsing family members, or a potential Dracula returned. Any new characters also welcome as always. Apply with CS or pm me.
@thewizardguyAwaiting postage sir co-GM.
Well Grey, Gabriel probably doesn't know everything about Bedivere. Wiz surely doesn't unless you tell him OC. I think it was a good effort to make a hilarious post. Perhaps, if it is messing with your plans, you could say it happened a few days prior, or you could ask wiz to make a couple specific edits to make it work. The staff are supposed to be confused, cuz this Bedivere is supposed to be very odd.
lol I love what wiz is doing.
The time had finally come. The renowned sire-kings, ancients and oldbloods, lords and ladies alike were all coming here, to the castle on the Thames, and every one of them made an entrance with their arrival simply with the aura of their presence alone. So many of the vampires Mithias now had the privilege to lay eyes on were simply rumored to exist, yet here they were, with some physical being claiming their name. Not all of them were terribly archaic, and a few, Mithias recalled, he had nearly tracked down once or twice. He doubted any would have cared about his actions in the war however. A few slain grandchildren wasn't on their level.
The magnitude of combined power in the room was mind blowing. Still, the assurance of mutual destruction was enough to keep the participants civil. This gathering would be legendary.
Mithias had said nothing of the lengths Bedivere had gone to in preparation. The poor old chap had been very agitated lately. His focus kept him strict, demanding, and allowed no patience for frivolity. Mithias had wisely given Bedivere space.
The human sacrifices did bother him, but he kept his silence and refused to look up on the burning, bleeding bodies above. This was not his domain. He was merely an observer here, as he tried to remind himself, however he was to have a say in the debates to follow in place of his sire. Perhaps this was fortunate, as he and his father had very different opinions, and Mithais could potentially stymie the pervasive anti-human sentiment. But until then, he would remain seated, silent and in the shadows of the shadows.
The young stand-in sat at one of the tables, a wide brimmed black hat shielding him from the gaze-locking sights of the vampire lords. He had on a long, black cloak, trimmed and fit for a formal gathering. He also wore several pieces of knighty armor, polished, free of holy iconography, which included shoulder guards and breastplate.
It was more symbolic than anything, really, Bedivere assuring him it was good form. His usual, modern vambraces and leather gloves covered his arms, and heavy locks of straight black hair rested on either side of his chest and down the back of his seat behind him. And of course he had his weapons. All vampires had some means of self defense, and unless they had some kind of telekinesis or irresistible charm ability, strength and claws were expected. It was no different for Mithias. He may have been the youngest vampire present, but he had to show pride.
Unfortunately, Mithais was an idiot when it came to the verbal grace and sinister social tact of the oldbloods. Bedivere, his host and informal keeper, had basically commanded him to keep his fool mouth shut as much as possible, lest he would find other things for him to do with his tongue. And thus, Mithias accepted this suggestion. In truth, it had been his own plan all along. Fortunately, he had another distraction to fixate on, a quiet burning in the middle of his chest. For months now, he had worn it, at his host's recommendation, in an effort to develop a resistance to holiness. A small silver cross dangled from a necklace under his armor, ever singing its mark into his flesh.
Camelot, for a vampire kingdom, was ironically rampant with christian holy symbols. Mithias's discomfort around them had been a covert source of amusement to the old knight for the first several weeks. He had to chose his wanderings with caution. Bedivere had warned him that if he ever entered the chapel he would instantly vaporize, due to the artifacts within. Even Bedivere himself couldn't go inside.
A mild weakness, a mild distraction. The task was to tolerate it.
Mithias sighed quietly as he listened to Bedivere greet his guests. He himself hadn't managed to sire anyone before the meeting and would therefore have as much voice as a pantry mouse. He wondered where his father would be during all this. It had been a long time since their talk, yet such time was meaninglessly small to Gabriel. Perhaps the ancient trickster had taken off his wristwatch and completely lost track. Mithias failed to recall if Gabriel had been wearing one in Oklahoma. More than likely, Mithias had simply been forgotten again. Maybe nothing had changed.
A stong woman's voice pierced through the room, and Mithias heard the pointed exchange about Castle Carfax. It had been claimed by Dracula once, Natasha's late father. Pale pink lips began to part dangerously beneath the brim of his hat. They closed. The situation appeared to resolve with her walking off. Mithias remained subdued, continuing to tolerate his secret distraction.
Moments later, a nervous vampire servant entered from the back rooms and briskly approached Lord Bedivere. The elder vampire furrowed a brow dangerously at him as the latter implored him for his ear. A whisper... "My Lord... the best wine, has already been used. There is none left... !" He trembled anxiously.
The magnitude of combined power in the room was mind blowing. Still, the assurance of mutual destruction was enough to keep the participants civil. This gathering would be legendary.
Mithias had said nothing of the lengths Bedivere had gone to in preparation. The poor old chap had been very agitated lately. His focus kept him strict, demanding, and allowed no patience for frivolity. Mithias had wisely given Bedivere space.
The human sacrifices did bother him, but he kept his silence and refused to look up on the burning, bleeding bodies above. This was not his domain. He was merely an observer here, as he tried to remind himself, however he was to have a say in the debates to follow in place of his sire. Perhaps this was fortunate, as he and his father had very different opinions, and Mithais could potentially stymie the pervasive anti-human sentiment. But until then, he would remain seated, silent and in the shadows of the shadows.
The young stand-in sat at one of the tables, a wide brimmed black hat shielding him from the gaze-locking sights of the vampire lords. He had on a long, black cloak, trimmed and fit for a formal gathering. He also wore several pieces of knighty armor, polished, free of holy iconography, which included shoulder guards and breastplate.
It was more symbolic than anything, really, Bedivere assuring him it was good form. His usual, modern vambraces and leather gloves covered his arms, and heavy locks of straight black hair rested on either side of his chest and down the back of his seat behind him. And of course he had his weapons. All vampires had some means of self defense, and unless they had some kind of telekinesis or irresistible charm ability, strength and claws were expected. It was no different for Mithias. He may have been the youngest vampire present, but he had to show pride.
Unfortunately, Mithais was an idiot when it came to the verbal grace and sinister social tact of the oldbloods. Bedivere, his host and informal keeper, had basically commanded him to keep his fool mouth shut as much as possible, lest he would find other things for him to do with his tongue. And thus, Mithias accepted this suggestion. In truth, it had been his own plan all along. Fortunately, he had another distraction to fixate on, a quiet burning in the middle of his chest. For months now, he had worn it, at his host's recommendation, in an effort to develop a resistance to holiness. A small silver cross dangled from a necklace under his armor, ever singing its mark into his flesh.
Camelot, for a vampire kingdom, was ironically rampant with christian holy symbols. Mithias's discomfort around them had been a covert source of amusement to the old knight for the first several weeks. He had to chose his wanderings with caution. Bedivere had warned him that if he ever entered the chapel he would instantly vaporize, due to the artifacts within. Even Bedivere himself couldn't go inside.
A mild weakness, a mild distraction. The task was to tolerate it.
Mithias sighed quietly as he listened to Bedivere greet his guests. He himself hadn't managed to sire anyone before the meeting and would therefore have as much voice as a pantry mouse. He wondered where his father would be during all this. It had been a long time since their talk, yet such time was meaninglessly small to Gabriel. Perhaps the ancient trickster had taken off his wristwatch and completely lost track. Mithias failed to recall if Gabriel had been wearing one in Oklahoma. More than likely, Mithias had simply been forgotten again. Maybe nothing had changed.
A stong woman's voice pierced through the room, and Mithias heard the pointed exchange about Castle Carfax. It had been claimed by Dracula once, Natasha's late father. Pale pink lips began to part dangerously beneath the brim of his hat. They closed. The situation appeared to resolve with her walking off. Mithias remained subdued, continuing to tolerate his secret distraction.
Moments later, a nervous vampire servant entered from the back rooms and briskly approached Lord Bedivere. The elder vampire furrowed a brow dangerously at him as the latter implored him for his ear. A whisper... "My Lord... the best wine, has already been used. There is none left... !" He trembled anxiously.
@akjeYeah I believe you should time skip. I'm working on a post.
"Repent! Repent and be saved!" Some asshole was outside with a damn sign. ... Damn it's pretty dark out, wait... what time is it?
"I have seen the sign!" Aldaric was outside on the streets yelling around like a madman. He wasn't alone. A few people had come outside to join him, putting their hands together and panicking. "The Sun will turn as red as blood! Night unending! Now is the time to seek the One!"
Aldaric was a bit of a nut, but he was a devout nut. What no one else realized, was that he had himself been changed that morning. He watched in horror as the sun darkened after sunrise, blackness spiraling up from the earth into the sky deep into it's solar heart. At that very moment, Aldaric had cowered and prayed for protection. That was when he got his power.
Any direction Aldaric looked, the souls of those around him lit up like glow worms, like fireflies, catching his attention. These were the souls he must save! He would help them. he would be a light for them and strengthen their spirits.
"I have seen the sign!" Aldaric was outside on the streets yelling around like a madman. He wasn't alone. A few people had come outside to join him, putting their hands together and panicking. "The Sun will turn as red as blood! Night unending! Now is the time to seek the One!"
Aldaric was a bit of a nut, but he was a devout nut. What no one else realized, was that he had himself been changed that morning. He watched in horror as the sun darkened after sunrise, blackness spiraling up from the earth into the sky deep into it's solar heart. At that very moment, Aldaric had cowered and prayed for protection. That was when he got his power.
Any direction Aldaric looked, the souls of those around him lit up like glow worms, like fireflies, catching his attention. These were the souls he must save! He would help them. he would be a light for them and strengthen their spirits.
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