The Black Sun Tribe

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AmongHeroes

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A MODERN FANTASY ROLEPLAY BASED AROUND AN OUTLAW MOTORCYCLE CLUB

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You’ve never heard of the Tribe before? Fuck, a SoCal native like you, and you haven’t heard of the Tribe? Must’ve been living under a rock, bro. Well, I guess if you’re a yuppy type, that’s a logical explanation too.

Anyway, the Black Sun Tribe is an outlaw MC. You know, a 1-percenter club? As in, give no fucks for law and society. That kind of thing. They’re based down in Fresno, I think. The mother charter is down there, but they’re all over the West Coast, man. And they’re not your average badass MC either. That is to say, they’re bad as hell, but they’re not just filled with bearded white dudes. Young, old; black, white; brown, purple; man, woman…shit they don’t discriminate. All shape and size of fiend is welcome in that lot.
But, that’s not the thing that gets people talking. Not really, anyway. No, the shit that really makes people pull to the side of the highway for the Tribe is…well…this is going to sound crazy…but they say they’re not even human.

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Welcome to the modern world. This is a place you know, or at least think you know. The reality, however, is that everything in the realm of human understanding is but a fraction of what truly exists. There is a whole other world, one hidden in plain sight, which all the beings of human mysticism, myth, and nightmare occupy. This is the Veiled World, and you’re in the midst of it even now.

From ghouls, dragons, mermaids, angels, and witches, the Veiled World contains them all. And it is here, in this realm pieced together seamlessly with that of humanity, that all of these beings reside. Like the characteristics of human civilization, the Veiled World’s citizens are governed by brokers of power, aligned to each other with culture, and subject to every broad stroke of vice and desire that humanity is known for. The human world and the Veiled World are two sides to the same coin: different, yet indelibly and symbiotically linked. One does not exist without the other.

Like human society, the realm of the supernatural is home to dissidents and social outliers. Individuals that scorn the constraints of normal culture, law, and reason that the rest of the world adheres itself to. Individuals that seek to make their own way by cutting through the flow of society, instead of floating along with it. These individuals are known by many titles, but perhaps the most common is outlaw. It is among these ranks that the Black Sun Tribe counts itself.

THE POWER BROKERS
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Of all the innumerable sects within the Veiled World, the most powerful are by far the governing bodies of the vampire families, and the werewolf clans. These groups, known as the Court of Cain and Lupus Naturae respectively, form the backbone of governance and influence throughout the Veiled World, and beyond. Other smaller groups often live and shift their politics to align with the two great powers, and it is a rare thing indeed for one of these smaller groups to go against the will of the vampire and werewolf leadership.

For their part, the Court of Cain and Lupus Naturae appreciate their status in the Veiled World. As time has passed, each power has allowed its interest to bleed beyond the control of its own kind, and into the realms of the less prominent species that live alongside them. In this way a unique balance has been struck across the globe, as even though vampires and werewolves are natural enemies, the machinations of both sides have stabilized the rest of the Veiled World into a general peace that has endured since the cessation of the Second World War.
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Patch of the Black Sun Tribe, Fresno Chapter

The first seven, known as the Original Sinners in the lore of the Tribe, formed the structure of the MC in the spring of 1946. World War II had just come to a close, and the Veiled World had been just as profoundly affected by the years-long struggle as humanity had. Thousands upon thousands of supernatural beings had fought and perished alongside their mortal counterparts, as they strove to ensure a future built atop the foundation human civilization granted them.

From werewolf to wight, just as mortal soldiers did, droves of supernatural warriors returned to lives forever altered by war. While the emotional and physical toll upon the creatures of the Veiled World were not exacted the same as that of humanity’s, there still existed a vacuum of purpose for many of the war’s survivors—regardless of their mortality. The seven that would become the Original Sinners were one such group of incredible individuals seeking purpose and self-guidance in the wake of Japan’s surrender.

Having fought for the Allies in some of the most harrying conflicts of the Pacific War as Marines in the 1st​ Division, the first seven found themselves released from the burdens of duty in the winter of 1945. Though not natives to California, it was at the naval docks of San Diego, amidst droves of surviving servicemen, that the first seven decided that they would not return to their respective clans, septs, and haunts. The bonds they had formed over the last several years were too profound, and too poignant to simply shrug off and discard. They would form their own family, their own tribe, and in doing so, throw away the social norms and restrictions that governed the citizens of the Veiled World.

In the very beginning, the first seven struggled to find a focus for their new direction. The latter months of 1945, and the beginning weeks of 1946, found the seven without a cohesive plan for their future. Days and nights were spent in pursuit of drunken, drug induced retribution and mayhem against no discernible aggressor. It was during one of these bouts of purposeless mischief that fate and necessity would drive the seven to their future.

Following a rough brawl with a group of ex-Navy pilots that were intermixed with a pack of werewolves, the seven and their opponents found themselves at a shaky impasse. Outside of a seedy bar near Fresno, the fight deteriorated into the werewolf pack showing their true nature, and as a result, the whole of the bar’s human contingent being murdered in the collateral damage. The werewolf pack fled in a pair of nearby cars, leaving the seven to take the fall for the death and destruction. Without a vehicle, and with sirens fast approaching, the seven gave chase in the only means of transportation that remained at the bar—Harley Davidson motorcycles.

The seven managed to chase down the werewolf pack, crashing two of their bikes in the process. Once they had caught the pack, all eleven of the wolves were culled, and the direction of the seven seemed to rise before them like a shining new dawn…

Now, almost seventy years later, the Black Sun Tribe is a well-established, well-known, and well-feared motorcycle club of 1%er, supernatural riffraff. The mother charter is based out of Fresno, California, and run from a complex behind the legitimate front of the club: a popular bar known as the American Gothic.

For income, the Tribe runs weapons, drugs, and muscle for groups based in both the human and Veiled worlds. Tribe charters run up all along the West Coast, and penetrate as far east as Las Vegas. By no means are they the largest MC, not even when taken under the lens of MC’s of the Veiled World. But, what the Tribe lacks in membership and size, they more than make up for in ferocity, efficacy, and notoriety. The process to become a member of the Black Sun Tribe is a long and harrowing process, even for the most hardened of the Veiled World’s citizenry. A being wearing a cut emblazoned with the Skull and Sun demands respect, or at the very least, fear.

RANKING STRUCTURE AND INNER-WORKINGS

Like most outlaw MC’s, the Black Sun Tribe is built around a formal hierarchy consisting of club officers, and normal patch-wearing members. Officer positions include president, vice-president, sergeant at arms, secretary, treasurer, and road captain. These officer seats are filled via direct votes from the MC membership whenever a challenge to the position is made, or at such time that an officer can no longer fulfill his/her duties.

Regular meetings (known as “church”) are held for all patched members. It is at these meetings that club business is discussed and voted upon, with each patched member having one vote in the decision making process.

OFFICER POSITIONS

PRESIDENT
The president is the leader of the chapter. He/she is the clubs figurehead, and is usually the spokesperson when dealing with the outside entities. The president is the chairman at club meetings, and represents the chapter at national events.

VICE PRESIDENT
The vice president is second in charge, and fills in when the president is away. The vice president is often the heir apparent to the clubs leadership, although this isn’t always the case. It’s his/her job to make sure that matters passed at club meetings are carried out.

SECRETARY
The secretary is responsible for the clubs paperwork. He/she keeps minutes of meetings and records dates of significant events, such as anniversaries (when prospects gain their patch). He/she corresponds with other chapters of the club, and keeps members informed of upcoming events.

TREASURER
The treasurer is the chapter’s bookkeeper and dues collector. He/she is in charge of collecting club fees, run funds, etc., as well as paying the bills. The treasurer is responsible for collecting any debts owed to the club, and usually gets the job of checking out business opportunities prior to any decisions being made.

SERGEANT AT ARMS
The sergeant at arms is basically the clubs enforcer. He/she ensures club procedure, and maintains order at club meetings. The sergeant is in charge of security at club events and is responsible for “back ups” (attacks on rivals). The sergeant looks after the club’s weapons, and general martial readiness.

ROAD CAPTAIN
The road captain is in charge of logistics during a club run. He plans the route and organizes refueling stops, etc. The Road Captain rides at the front and leads the pack with the president. The road captain is a non-executive position, though the position is filled via a vote of the membership.​
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-Follow the Golden Rule.
-Follow all Iwaku rules.
-No god-modding or other such behavior.
-Inform the GM if you will be absent for an extended period of time, or if you need to leave the RP.
-Have fun!


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STEP 1: Cut a hole in the box...Kidding, just kidding. (If you don't get the reference, no worries)

Anyway, this RP is based around the group of supernatural creatures that make up the Black Sun Tribe Motorcycle Club. As a player, you will create a character of some mythical type that would make sense "living in plain sight" near humanity. I would like most characters to be members of the actual MC, although I'm fine with characters that are merely allied with, or possess strong ties to the club.

I like to keep my CS templates sparse. As a player, please feel free to expand it however you would like, as long as this does not somehow fundamentally influence the RP as a whole.

[BCOLOR=#ffffff]Only one character per person. You may have a character with some type of supernatural companion, i.e. a demon dog, etc., but you may not use this companion as another character.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=#ffffff]The creation of back story between accepted characters is strongly encouraged! [/BCOLOR]

CHARACTER SHEET

-Name:
-Creature Type: (Werewolf, goblin, witch, etc.)
-Gender: Male of female.
-Age: Real and apparent age.
-Appearance: Please provide a picture of how your character appears among humans. A second picture, or description, can be provided for their "natural" appearance. This isn't required, however. Please use only photographs or lifelike artwork. No anime.
-MC Position: (Patched member, vice president, club ally, etc.)
-Character special abilities: I won't list any specific limitations here, but keep it "realistic." Remember the god-modding rule.
-Background: List how your character has come to be affiliated with the Tribe. Other pertinent info can be listed here.


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List to come...
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-Name: Ulfr Coldourn
-Creature Type: WereWolf
-Gender: Male
-Age: 64, Looks 30
-Appearance:
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-MC Position: Patch Member
-Character special abilities: Capable of transforming into an anthromorphic wolf type creature with incredible strength, speed, and stamina.
-Background: Been around the club since it's early days. His dad was a member of the club and Sergeant at Arms for his lifetime, by the time his father was dead Ulfr had already grown into a strong young man and took a place in the club. Since then he has been on every major run the club has gone on, and fought anyone the club had issues with. His ambition is to be Sergeant at Arms but respects that he will need to prove himself more before he gets the position.
 
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I'm just going to take up this wee little spot here, to come play after I finish up the homework that is due tonight, cook dinner (or better yet, go grab some takeout ;) )...
 
Hey all,
Sorry it's taken me some time to get back on here. I got called into work last night, and I'm still there! Woohoo! Anyway, I know several of you have sent me PM's with questions and characters. I'll get to those ASAP.

Thanks,
AH
 
Name: "Soli" Solvhildr

Creature Type: Valkyrie

Gender: Female

Age: Roughly 2000 years old, looks to be in her early 30's

Appearance:
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MC Position: Patched Member

Character Special Abilities: Can appear as either human or valkyrie. Possesses supernatural strength and combat prowess as both, can also fly as a valkyrie.

Background:
Valhalla isn't quite what it used to be, or at least, it wasn't when Soli was last there. Growing tired of merely choosing champions, growing frustrated by the waning support offered by humans, she found herself longing to leave her duties behind. She looked for a way out, a time to flee Asgard, and found it in the chaos of the second world war. For once not bound to simply watch and judge, she fought from battlefield to battlefield. She favored no side, didn't bother to look into the motives behind the bloodshed. She simply fought, against anyone and everyone who crossed her path, and loved every minute of it.

When the dust of that war cleared, however, Soli found herself very much alone. Without home or ally, she wandered the world, seeking battle, companionship, any remnant of what her life had been like in Valhalla. Eventually, her path crossed with that of the still-young Black Sun Tribe, and she found in them a place where she might belong. The initiation was a challenge she took to with relish, a desire to prove herself that only grew after she was accepted in. Now, she works eagerly to further the Tribe's aims... especially when that involves getting into a fight or three.
 
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It's Derren! So nice to see you, brother...errr, I mean, sister. Way to rock the Valkyrie.
 
I'm diggin that we have two Norse (Ish) characters.
 
Anjali "Anne" Balhara, #339966
Name: Anjali "Anne" Balhara

Creature Type: Nagi

Gender: Female

Age: Apparent age: 26
Real age: 982 years (give or take a decade or two)

Appearance:
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MC Position: Club ally/owner and manager of the American Gothic bar, and club Treasurer

Character special abilities: Anjali can easily transform between her human and naga forms. As a naga, her bite is as venomous as that of a king cobra, but with double the amount of venom injected. She also moves at a preternatural speed in the water, in her naga form. She has a special affinity with serpents of all forms, natural and those inhabiting the Veiled World.

Background: Anjali was hatched on the Indian subcontinent near a millenia ago, and lived for centuries as a revered temple guardian alongside her numerous sisters and brothers. They oversaw the collection and protection of the treasures of Baba Dhansar and then the Konark complex until the world subtly, yet inexorably, began to shift to the world of fractious, warring men. The closing of the Veiled world pulled the faithful nagini back into the realm of legend and myth, for their own safety, though the faithful still left offerings for them, praying for the blessings of fertility and prosperity.

But in these modern, disbelieving days, it has become far too dangerous for even revered demigods to reveal themselves to men with their too-hasty and aggressive ways. Even in the most seemingly inaccessible of the Indian jungles, smartphones and wifi connects humanity to all the vast world. The choices available to Anjali and her people were few: retreat for all time to the interior of the Veiled World; reside in those few major cities of the world like London, where the Veil was thinnest, a gateway between the two separate worlds; or come out from the shadows and dare to live among men.

Anjali and her mate Kamal chose the latter. All their long lives, they had lived among men, and knew enough to both love them for all their human foibles, and fear them for all their inhuman capability. Eighty-four years ago, Kamal and Anjali emigrated to America - to Fresno, California, to be exact. They immediately fell in love with their newly-adopted home, where the industrious couple built what would become a cornerstone of the Fresno biker scene, the American Gothic bar. The nagini were quite naturally engrossed in the world of finance, and became the quintessential American success story.

And it was here in California, that Kamal found his own band of brothers among the Veiled World denizens, the six other Original Sinners of the Black Sun Tribe. Kamal's affinity for finances made the office of Treasurer a natural fit, with Anjali his right-hand when it came to maintaining both sets of books, the legitimate and the not-so much.

As if their world did not get any better, fourteen years ago Anjali and Kamal extended their family further still with a hatchling of their very own, their son Kiran.

To this very day, Anjali cannot bring herself to regret coming to America, to immerse herself and the ones she loves most in the underworld of Fresno, both natural and supernatural. Not even with Kamal murdered some three years past...
 
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Anson Oazur
[BCOLOR=#ffffff]Creature Type:[/BCOLOR] Corporeal Shade

[BCOLOR=#ffffff]Gender:[/BCOLOR] Male

[BCOLOR=#ffffff]Age:[/BCOLOR] Apparent-Late Twenties, Actual-Approximately 400 years

[BCOLOR=#ffffff]Appearance:[/BCOLOR]
Being a shade, Anson can alter small aspects of his chosen avatar at will. Changes in hair color, hair length, eye color, skin tone, etc., are easily done. However, it is very difficult for him to alter more significant characteristics of his appearance, such as height and bone structure.

Usually Anson depicts himself with a beard or mustache, and blue eyes. His skin tone is generally tan, weathered, scarred, and bears a multitude of tattoos dedicated to the Tribe, as well as several altered religious symbols.

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Anson's shade form

[BCOLOR=#ffffff]MC Position:[/BCOLOR] President, Original Sinner.

[BCOLOR=#ffffff]Special Abilities and Characteristics:[/BCOLOR]
Anson’s shade form resides in a humanlike avatar. This avatar is physically like a human in most respects, save that Anson can repair mild to moderate injuries rapidly, and the avatar is not prone to sickness or disease. However, the avatar is only slightly stronger than an average, healthy, mortal man, and if the avatar should be “killed,” Anson’s shade form cannot influence the physical world.

Anson’s most useful power is his ability to instantly teleport to anywhere within his field of vision. This teleportation can be done in rapid succession, allowing him to travel quickly over great distances.

[BCOLOR=#ffffff]Background:[/BCOLOR]
The shade known as Anson Oazur began his existence sometime in 17th​ century Germany, as the unholy mistake of a Christian mystic attempting to call forth an angel from heaven. The result of the mystic’s trifling with the divine led instead to the creation of a vague and bodiless apparition. This spirit, which was so ethereal at first that it barely existed at all, roamed free throughout the wilds of the Bavarian countryside, harmlessly haunting travelers, especially those wayfaring for religious purposes.

Over decades this spirit became more and more defined as it continued its haunting. Its meddling grew more insidious through this time as well, until some hundred years after it came to be, the spirit did more than just haunt. It possessed. And, with its newfound power came a name. A demonic name, given by a monk tasked with exorcising the baleful spirit from the mind of a young boy. Oazur.

This spirit, now strong enough to be self-aware, took this name, and continued upon its mission of blind vengeance against the religion that called it forth from the shadows. Oazur spent years traveling the globe, following and tormenting the work of Christian missionaries as they spread their words of salvation to humanity’s savages.

Hundreds of years passed in this way, until one fateful event in late 1896 would alter the shade’s path forever, and change him to Anson Oazur. The details of this event are held close to Anson, so close in fact that he has never once entrusted the story to even the dearest of his brothers and sisters within the Tribe.

After fighting for America in both World Wars, Anson returned to his adoptive homeland with the rest of the first seven, and helped lay the foundation of the Black Sun Tribe. He still harbors a great disdain and hatred for organized religion, especially Christianity, but his vigor for such has diminished with his focus being given to growing the Tribe’s power and prestige in the underground of the Veiled World.
 
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Anson is fucking bad ass.
 
Conaire Mac Giolla Phádraig, #008000
Name: Conor Fitzpatrick
Creature: Necromancer
Gender: Male
Age: Conor attests that he's nearing his ninetieth year of living, however, he appears to take on the appearance of a man in a mature thirties. How he maintains his youth is of much rumour and debate.
MC Position: Secretary
Appearance:
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Character special abilities: “You see, most people, when they think of necromancers they think of these necrophiliac individuals who like rooting around in cemeteries and playing with cadavers. See, that hurts when people look at me like that, because necromancy is a bit more than that, necromancy is... it's dark magic and a necromancer is basically just a term for a male witch working under a specific branch of magic. So, sure, I dabble in ghosts and spirits, I can do cute little things like project my own aura and send messages and all manner of hoodoo voodoo shit that involves bringing back some poor bastard back because he got into a pissing contest with a troll or some lass who thought speedballing would be fun. So sometimes, I serve as a necessary evil and can help a lot of people. But... on the other side of the fence, I can do some real nasty shit, some real evil shit. Because here comes the misconception; not everything I do has to involve the dead. I don't need corpses, or skulls, or fucking dusty old tomes or relics, sometimes, it's something as simple as a piece of hair or a playing card. Then, with some given time, I just need to reach out. I just need to take hold of your soul and I'll have you dancing for me until Christ Almighty himself comes down from the heavens. And I don't care if you're a vampire, werewolf, a fucking naiad, a fucking poltergeist, you could be the king of the fucking Wild Hunt for all I care. You walk into this bar one more time with your dick out thinking you're the man and you give me that dirty look because of what I am, you best pray that when I kill you, it'll be the last time.”

Background: “Who really knows when Conor was born, if his real name is truly Conor or if he's even Irish, the man has a flair for stories and history.”

If Conor is to be believed, the year was 1921, the war between the Irish Republic and United Kingdom was coming to an end and somewhere remote in Munster. Conor was born. Raised alone by his mother, a witch of the Fianna-cnoc Bearú coven. His father never made an appearance in his life, nor has he truly attempted to discover his father's identity. Conor grew up wild, unruly and like the lands around him, Conor was difficult to tame. When his magical abilities began to manifest, Conor calmed somewhat, taking his hyperactive nature away from his mother and other witches to the spirits and banshees, who he would antagonise instead.

After much time of pissing off other supernatural, his mother, the witches of the coven, riding horses in the dead of night under the mirage of being headless and pretending to be Stingy Jack in the nearby villages, Conor began to become more aware that there was a larger world beyond his country upbringing in a coven hidden in the woods. Bored and driven by an insatiable curiosity, Conor decided to venture to more populated territory and explore. Conor arrived in London in 1938, shortly before the outbreak of World War II. It was the first time that Conor was met with a large amount of people and Conor felt hesitance and a slight fear towards the power of humans. Cars, trains, aeroplanes, incredible structures, electricity and radios. But the young witch adapted, slowly, but he adapted. And enlisted in the British Army in 1940, Conor serving with the Irish Guard.

It was during Operation Market Garden when the man that Conor would become was born. Having survived the first days of Operation Overlord, it was a small reconnaissance mission where Conor had been wounded, a sniper and a clear shot through the neck, Conor was dying. It had been the efforts of an American medic that Conor remembers keeping him alive for so long. It had been in Conor's last ditched effort in order to survive, that he reached out to the American medic with a shaky hand, laying it to rest upon his shoulder, then watched as the medic's face turn gaunt and white as he felt warmth again, the itching sensation of a wound healing and the beating of his heart once more, clear as day. Steady and non-afraid. Conor had committed his first act of necromancy.

Conor's life there after was of much study. Not one to fall pray to the necromancer stereotype of becoming a serial killer, Conor went through the legal methods of furthering his abilities, the Korean War, mercenary work, acting as a double agent during the Troubles, a little assassin work here and there. Conor's life went from chaotic moment to chaotic moment as he was free to practice his work freely, however, never really belonging anywhere. Never truly human and shunned all contact with the veiled world; that was until a chance encounter in 1992, where he found himself in California and having reached what he believed to be the zenith of his education after pursuing native American magics. Found himself caught up in a bar fight on the side of the right type of people.

“Motorcycle club?” Conor said, the knuckles of his right hand sprayed with blood. “Last time I went around with any club like that, we were still using horses.”
 
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Lirit 'Lily' Delacroix
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Name:
Lirit "Lily" Delacroix

Creature
Type: Succubus

Gender:
Female

Age:
257 years old, looks to be in her late twenties.

Appearance:


latest

MC Position:
Patched Member

Character special abilities:
Being almost an embodiment of the sin of Lust, it is not a surprise to know that Lirit's abilities revolve around the sexual aspect of life. With a look, a whisper, or a touch, she can bring any man, and woman, to her knees; making of them her private slaves.

And of course, we can't talk about a Succubus abilities without mentioning the Nightmares, oh yes, those weird sexual dreams that leave you exhausted once you're awake; those Nightmares. While some may think it is just a creation of their horny mind, even if some actually is, these dreams are nothing more than the invasion of your mind by a hungry Succubus; a neatly crafted fantasy that will slowly eat your energy, and sanity. While a single Nightmare may cause you only exhaustion and perhaps low energy, multiples of them can, and will, eat away your health, your life, and especially your youth, this being the secret of a Succubus eternal beauty.


Background: It is said that monsters are born from the darkness within men, or that monsters are created by men with such darkness, which this is actually true or not is not important, what matters here is that Lirit is one of these creatures, born from the deepest shadow of a man's heart, actually, of men's heart. Lust, one of the Seven Deadly Sins, responsible for so many heartbreaks and suffering from all around the world - a common darkness - is, to some, the reason of their death, but to others, the reason of their life. For beings such as Lirit feed of this shadow, depend of it to survive, and as darker the heart, the more delicious it will be. And to their luck, such hearts were not a rarity.

Born in the darkest pit of London, Lirit experienced the highest point of men's history, and also probably the lowest, surely one of the most important; Industrial Revolution. It was certainly a good age for the humans, as it was for the Succubus, for never have the Sins run as wild. Greed, Envy, Lust, all of them had a place on the human heart, none was completely sinless, except for maybe the children. And that woman.

It was during winter of 1913 that Lirit met her, the woman that was going to eat away her sanity: Diana. The day had started just like any other, nothing special; A few walks around the city in search for a new meal, some stops for ice cream, because demons could enjoy them, and then back to meal hunting. Lirit had found just the perfect one, a middle aged man who had 'putrid soul' written right on his face, it would be a good night, if it weren't for the clumsy little woman. The woman, a short brunette with an innocent look on her face, had laughed timidly and apologized, soon running away back to her path. The Succubus couldn't do nothing but to stay there frozen with wide open eyes, for it was impossible to a soul to be as sinless as that woman's, there was absolutely nothing; no Greed, no Envy, no Lust. Impossible. Lirit could feel her own putrid soul recoiling from the sinless' one, it was a different sensation, terrifying, yet intoxicating. She had loved it.

The next day, Lirit came back to the same spot, and there she was again. And the next day, and the next, and the next. She found out that the brunette's name was Diana, such a beautiful name; she found out that she rather liked the nickname Diana gave her, 'Lily'; she found out how sincere Diana's smile was, and how she loved it; she found out how much Diana's touch burned her skin, and how she didn't mind at all; and most importantly, she found out how it killed her to be near the other. Some may call it 'love', but Lirit wasn't stupid, she couldn't love someone; it was not of her nature. No, what she felt was a strange sense of attraction, pull towards the brunette, like the different poles of a magnet. It was Light and Darkness, Yin Yang, North and South, Evil and Good, Devil and Angel. It was like a drug, it's killing her, but she couldn't live without it.

An addiction.

But it all changed next year, when the Great War happened. When faced against the most solid form of humans' rottenness, the war, Diana's innocence began to decay, at first there was only little lies, nothing horrible, and then the smiles weren't sincere anymore, rage started to show its first fangs, and Lirit's hunger began. As the war kept going, Diana continued to lose her innocence, to lose herself into the putrid ways of humans, and soon, the foul smell of Greed, Envy, Gluttony, Sloth, Wrath, Pride and Lust surrounded her. Lirit was disappointed, to say the least, her most treasured prize was now damaged, rotten beyond comprehension. There was no more attraction, no more Yin Yang. And so, Diana had a Nightmare. And another, and another, and another; until her body was nothing more than an empty shell. Lirit hated to admit that Diana's loss had affected her in more ways than she showed, but Diana was no Diana without the Good, so the Succubus didn't regret what she had done; since she knew that her Diana would have wanted that, to die as Good instead of dying as Evil.

After Diana's episode, Lirit moved on, or at least tried to. She wouldn't admit it, but perhaps the brunette's company had reached a level thought impossible by the Succubus, perhaps, Diana managed to touch the edge of what was supposed to be Lirit's heart. Honestly, who knew. Not her. So she just tossed it aside, tossed it into the deepest parts within herself, to be eternally forgotten. And moved on, living her boring life as a Succubus. World War 2 came, and once more humans showed just how putrid they were. World War 2 went, and nothing changed; for her, at least. Until, the day she was almost hit by motorcycles, which resulted in her natural form being revealed accidentally, luckily for her, she had been almost run over by the right club of motorcyclists.


I hope you like my character! Also, I changed a few things on Succubus' mythology, nothing major, mind you, just details.
 
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Hey everybody! Great characters so far! I'm sorry this OOC has been so quiet, but you know real life-it always has a better plan, right? Anyway, I hope to have the IC started on Monday.
 
I have to join this lol having char up soon^^. so cool looking. I was also wondering is I could be the sergeant at arms, since the character im thinking of would be perfect as the muscle xD.
 
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I've got a Maenad in the works, maybe up tonight, maybe tomorrow.
 

  • Vladimir "Vlad" Serban
    ZoVlPN2.png


  • -Name:
    "My name? My Name if you really want to know is Vladimir Serban...you can call me Vlad, or the man that's about to end your life!"


    -Creature Type:
    "You see these? There what I call fangs...you know what has fangs right? I'm a damn vampire. Now come here so I can give you a closer look."


    -Gender:
    "I'm a male...don't believe me? I'll show you, love."

    -Age:
    "People say I don't look a day over 22, if only they knew I've been around for 3,000 years."
    -Appearance:
    "This is what I use to fool you humans."
    ZoVlPN2.png


    "Once they see who I really am, it's too late."

    4Pjeehs.jpg

  • -MC Position:
    "I earned my rank as the Sergeant At Arms...wanna see how?"

    -Character special abilities:
    "Well I'm a vampire with a dark magic background...why do you want to know all this? Forget it. I can compel humans...make them do whatever I want, just by staring into their foolish eyes. That's always fun. I have super speed, super hearing, super strength, just a list of super stuff us vamps can do. Thanks to my dark magic I made a ring that allows me to walk around in the bloody sunlight. If you want to know more then...come here!"

    -Background:
    "Well where do I start? Ahhh...yes! I was born 3,000 years ago in Romania, a cliche I know; but it at last is true. Anyway my parents were what people in this era would call cultists. They were into dark magic, necromancy, blood magic. I know, amazing right?! I was taught those things very young. My parents were sadly killed when I was 18, they were caught doing spells on a sacrifice. Fools! I was next on the kill list, how do you say...ah yes the sins of the father do onto the son. Luckily one of their dear friends protected me. Later when I turned 22, the dark wizard...that's what I call him, he taught me how to become immortal. What he didn't tell me is that I would live for forever, unless I was staked in the heart and that I would crave human blood for eternity. That was some great details to leave out.

    Later down the centuries of seeing people die and never having anything that stayed with me, I longed for something to live for. The longing lead me to Fresno, California in America. I knew fairly no american english what so ever. It took me a long time but I got myself together. I thought I was together that is. Then one fatal event changed my life, I was at a bar which would later become a second home for me. Anyway where was I? Oh! I was craving badly for some blood, so I followed a drunk woman out of the bar, I know creepy right? I needed the blood, so I took her down. What I didn't know was that her boyfriend was in the bar also, he thought I was raping her; a ghastly accusation.

    He was about to try and beat my ass but then he saw his girlfriend bleeding to death from the neck. He started to run but I took him down and finished him off too. I didn't know what to do; as you well know I was still a little fresh to America. There wasn't a lot of places I knew to hide bodies. But a member of The Black Sun Tribe knew what I was, they helped me get rid of the bodies. I thanked him, he invited me in to meet their President. The rest is history.

    Oh! you want to know how I became the SAA? That's simple everytime a drunk bastard came in the bar and tried to start trouble I took care of them. I'm the best security ever. I do not get paid in money, I would rather be paid in blood."
 
3000 years? So since the Bronze Age this guy has been running around?
 
Yup he's a very old Vamp xD.
 
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