Would you smooch a ghost?
Location: Decatur, GA
Born: 30 March 1996
Website: No Information
Writing, reading, video games, anime, food (namely anything cake-related)
About:: No Information
Joined: 21-June 18
Last Seen: Today at 03:07 am
Local Time: Jul 19 2018, 06:34 AM
16 posts (0.6 per day)
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Jul 8 2018, 04:38 PM
[dohtml]<img src="https://orig00.deviantart.net/c3bb/f/2018/189/7/0/merikh_by_secretagent9-dcgnui7.jpg" alt="MerikhRef" align="left" height="500" width="396" hspace="10" vspace="15"><p>Name: Merikh
<p>Species: Demon (Death) Subspecies: Incubus
<p>Age: 36 years old (born on the 6th day of Kamigami no Tsuki)
<p>Appearance: Height: 5'5" || Weight: 113 lbs.
<p>Merikh’s humanoid form is somewhat small and slender, and his most prominent features are feminine, so it’s quite common for him to be mistaken for a young woman. This annoys him, and instead of embracing his unnatural beauty, he’s grown to be all but disgusted by it, loathing his long hair and smooth, sooty skin. His clothes tend to be light and thin, consisting mainly of cloaks and robes, as well as cloth shoes and a veil of sorts that sits atop his head (his mother insists on making such clothes for him, and he likes them enough to wear them without much complaint).
<p>Among his more demonic traits are his horns and eyes, though only his left eye is visible, as his right eye—what's left of it, at least—is covered with a strip of black cloth; he also has a wisp-like tail that appears from time to time, and tattoos on his back that mark him as a member of the Death Clan.
<p>Personality: Merikh thinks highly of himself and tends to look down on those who populate the other, “lesser” classes. This sense of superiority makes him controlling, and he holds the few acquaintances he has to a certain set of standards that, in his mind, double as unspoken, unbreakable rules; because of this, he can be hard to please, and even harder to impress.
<p>Merikh's mother is a succubus, and although he doesn't hate her, he’s ashamed of sharing her blood and openly condemns her way of life, despite knowing that she can’t help being the way that she is. They share some other traits—such as being skilled in the art of manipulation—but he refuses to acknowledge them in an on-going effort to dissociate himself from her.
<p>Day-to-day life for Merikh is dull, so he’s often bored unless he can find some way to entertain himself. To this end, he’ll sometimes indulge in violence, performing particularly gruesome killings to stave off the effects of his curse; as willing as he is to take others’ lives to sustain his own, however, he disapproves of pointless bloodshed. Being somewhat reserved in nature, he would much rather not be involved in large-scale conflicts, if they can be avoided.
<p>Silver Tongue – Merikh can subtly influence the minds of others, making them more susceptible to lies and suggestions from him. It’s most effective on weak-willed individuals.
<p>Element of Darkness – Merikh’s affinity for darkness lets him manipulate shadows in a multitude of ways, and he can use them to fight as well as defend himself and hide. Unsurprisingly, he’s weak to the element of light.
<p>Health Regeneration – Because Merikh is a Death demon, his body’s natural ability to heal itself is superior to most, and he can recover quickly from injuries and illnesses.
<p>Ciar – Ciar is a Darkdeer that Merikh found as a fawn and raised by hand; he’s since become both a beloved pet and a loyal, trustworthy companion that rarely ever leaves Merikh’s side. He’s also large enough for Merikh to ride, which he does often.
Jul 6 2018, 02:15 AM
PLAYERS INVOLVED: @Agent @Couvina @Elffri3nd @Melka
SETTING: Kerguelan, in the city of Leonyss; there's some festival going on
WEATHER: The skies are cloudy and grey
TIME: Current, around midday
CHARACTERS INVOLVED: Phobius, Zeke, Idris, Pryxi
In spite of the gloomy weather, the city seemed to be bustling with life—the people especially, with their colorful robes and dresses and long, flowing scarves. There'd been talk of some festival that was going on, which didn't come as much of a surprise to Phobius; although he hadn't been in the city for very long, it seemed like its people found something to celebrate every other day. Standing and watching them from afar as they talked excitedly amongst themselves, he couldn't help but feel a little left out; he wanted to know what was making them so happy but was too hesitant to walk up to one of them and ask. Truth be told, he'd been too hesitant to talk to more than a few people, ever since he'd arrived at the city's gates. It was so different than what he was used to, filled with so many faces that he couldn't recognize... what if he did or said something that made people not like him?
"Hey, you!" cried someone, and Phobius tensed, not even realizing that he'd lost himself in his own thoughts. The somewhat-shrill voice seemed to have come from a xeriin—one with the legs, ears, and antlers of a deer. She waved at him to get his attention, and he waved back, which she seemed to take as a silent invitation to approach him. "You waitin' for a friend or somethin'?" she asked, looking him up and down before her eyes seemed to settle on his own.
"Friend?" Phobius replied, blinking at her. "N-no, no... I'm not waiting for anyone."
"No? Then how come you're just standin' out here?"
Again, he blinked, not knowing quite what to say. Why was he standing here? "I don't know," he admitted after a moment, with a small, sheepish smile, "but everyone seems so happy... I wish I knew why."
He thought that he sounded silly, but if she thought the same, then she didn't show it; she even smiled back at him, and he watched in mild confusion as she unwound a shimmering scarf from her neck. Before he could ask what she was doing, she draped it around his shoulders. "There," she said, giving him a little nod of approval. "It looks good on you; even better than it does on me. Now quit your standin' and starin' come and join the fun!"
"Huh? B-but this is yours, I can't—" But the xeriin wouldn't hear his protests, grabbing him by the arm and pulling him toward the crowd that she'd come from. Then she was gone, and someone else grabbed him, this time by his hands; he saw them smile at him, the corners of their lips reaching their astoundingly bright eyes, and they suddenly twirled, making him twirl with them.
"What are we doing?!" Phobius cried, gripping their hands out of fear of being flung into the air.
"Dancing!" they replied, and they twirled again, and again, and again. It made Phobius feel dizzy, but the smiles and cheers and laughs of the people lightened his mood, and soon enough he was laughing with them; their happiness was contagious, and although he didn't know how to dance, much less who he was even dancing with, it was unbelievably fun.
Jul 1 2018, 07:58 PM
Age: 27 years old (born on the 49th day of Kelvar)
Appearance: Standing at 5’1” and weighing only 121 pounds, Dira doesn’t cut a very intimidating figure, but she’s strong despite her small size—incredibly so. Years spent working in the forge alongside her father have toughened her body, and she often wears black sleeveless shirts to show off her muscles. Her grey trousers are a bit looser, and she keeps them tucked into an old but sturdy pair of steel-toed boots that reach halfway up her calves. Her skin is dark and often glistens with sweat, and her hair is a darker chestnut brown that she keeps in a pixie cut. Her eyes are a reddish-brown that seem more red than brown whenever she’s angry, but that isn’t much more than a trick of the light. Even when she isn’t working in the forge, she’ll sometimes wear her gloves and leather smock; the gloves are more likely since the smock is a bit heavy.
Personality: Dira is a tough woman, both physically and mentally. Having grown up around young boys and old, grizzled men, she’s learned to defend herself and is very resilient, able to take more blows than most would expect of someone her size. She can also hold her own in a fight, and is a fearsome opponent in hand-to-hand combat, though she prefers to use the weapons she was raised around—swords and maces and warhammers and battle axes. Much like the fiery element she struggles with, she’s wild and passionate, often doing what her heart seems to tell her despite what logical rationale her mind might have. Her father has ingrained a certain sense of honor in her, and she believes that the strong have no right to take advantage of the weak, so it isn’t uncommon for her to try and defend a stranger if she sees they’re being mistreated. She’s fairly social around others, but not everyone enjoys her bluntness and brutal honesty, and although she means well, she can come off as a bit rough and pushy. As assertive as she is, she’s also fiercely independent, and insists on doing things on her own—this tends to work against her, as she’s reluctant to seek help from others and sees failure as a result of some weakness that she has to overcome on her own. She also rarely opens up to others and tends to guard her innermost feelings; despite how she might look or act, it can be hard to tell what’s going on inside her head.
History: When Dira was an infant, she lost her birth parents to a terrible storm that struck while they were out at sea. Having been brought aboard their boat, she could have easily died with them when it was destroyed or been eaten alive by flesh-hungry beasts of the sea; miraculously, however, the waves carried her away from the wreckage, and she washed up on the shores of Rhidora, where she cried until she was found by an old minotaur named Gaul. He pitied the sopping wet babe—so much so that he took her back to his home, and although the ordeal at sea had left her deathly ill, he did what he could to nurse her back to health. Within a month’s time, she was well again, but Gaul couldn’t bring himself to part with her; he’d grown so fond of her—and she of him—that he decided to raise her as his own child.
Gaul was a well-known blacksmith, and their modest home in Kytos doubled as his forge. Most of his days were spent making weapons for the city’s soldiers; this fascinated Dira, who often watched him while he worked. Almost as soon as she could speak, she all but begged him to teach her what he knew about his trade, and although he was hesitant at first, she was persistent. Eventually, he obliged, and when she wasn’t out wrestling with the local boys, she was sitting on a stool at home, watching Gaul in wide-eyed wonder as he smelted ore and hammered away at swords. Occasionally, he would let her help by giving her small, simple tasks, but she wanted to do what he did. It was demanding work, but she was willing to do whatever she could to prepare herself for it, and Gaul, admiring her ambition, decided to train her. She learned how to wield some of the weapons he made—to defend herself and fight with honor. It strengthened her body, as well as her fiery spirit, and by the time that she was fifteen, she was working the forge on her own, refusing help from her father, who was as amazed as he was proud of her.
Dira wasn’t deaf to her father’s wishes; he spoke often of how much he wanted her to take over the forge when he was too old and feeble to continue his work. As much as she wanted to please him, however, she grew tired of her life within Kytos’ walls—tired of her life within the confines of the forge. She wanted to travel to the furthest reaches of the Realm—to see new sights and meet new people and experience all that there was in life that she’d missed. When she shared this dream with Gaul, he spoke against it; having never left the city himself, he knew little about what lay beyond its walls, and didn’t want her risking her life by venturing into the unknown. But she insisted that it was something that she needed, and that she was old enough and skilled enough to take care of herself; after all, she had learned from the best of the best. It took a while for him to change his mind, and when he did, he gave her his blessings, hoping that she would find happiness wherever she went. Promising that she would write to him as often as she could, she packed up her things and boarded a boat to Jes’re’en. There, she set up her own little forge in Z’leaf; it’s where she’s lived, ever since.
Abilities: Before Dira left for Jes’re’en, her father gave her a special weapon that he had made for her: a large, two-handed warhammer. She’s able to manipulate the element of fire, but because her control over it is weak, she often channels it through the hammer to mitigate the damage that’d otherwise be done to herself and others; flames spew from engravings in its large, spiked head, and she can concentrate enough reiatsu in it to create small explosions when she strikes things.
The warhammer’s hilt is also inscribed with magical runes that make it so that only she can properly wield it; in anyone else’s hands, it’s no different than an average hammer.
Jun 22 2018, 04:10 PM
<p>Species: Avian (Harpy)</p>
<p>Age: 23 years old (born on the 12th Day of Elen)</p>
<p>Appearance:</p><p>Height: 5’6” || Weight: 131 lbs.</p>
<p style="line-height:18px;">Phobius is somewhat tall, and with a slender build that lets him move with ease both on land and in the air, the latter of which he tends to prefer. He’s also feathered, like most of his kind, and his plumage resembles a fox kestrel's; it’s reddish-brown streaked with a much darker brown, though the undersides of his long, narrow wings are lighter in comparison. From his waist up, the plumage thins, gradually giving way to the fair, featherless skin of his neck; likewise, his face is that of a human's, its features kind and effeminate. Thin brows arch above his long-lashed eyes, their irises a warm shade of amber; then there's his thick head of hair, its locks as red as leaves in late autumn. It's long enough to drape itself over his shoulders, and he keeps it in a big fishtail braid, leaving it loose so that he can weave small, sweet-smelling flowers into it whenever he wants to accessorize.</p>
<p>In all other aspects, Phobius isn't that different from the average harpy. His wings and arms are separate entities, but his legs and feet are like a bird’s, with hooked talons that are perfect for gripping and tearing into things. He also has a tail, as well as pointed ears that his hair tends to hide from view.</p>
<p style="line-height:18px;">When it’s particularly cold out, Phobius will sometimes wear a scarf or even a light cloak, but most clothes don’t fit him right, so he doesn't bother with them if he feels he doesn't have to.</p>
<p style="line-height:18px;">Personality: Phobius is a gentle, kind-hearted soul who has neither the stomach nor the proper skills for dealing with violence. Seen as quite the emotional deviant among his kin, he prefers to end fights rather than start them and is keen on talking out problems instead of resorting to force. He's incredibly social, and enjoys bonding with all sorts of people, ignoring language barriers and the like in favor of finding a new friend. A hard, somewhat lonesome early childhood has made him dependent on the presence of others, and he is quick to cling to those whom he deems safe and friendly. He's incredibly loyal and loves to help others as well as to keep them happy, willing to go to foolish, even dangerous lengths to make it so. It's this dotage, however, that acts as a great flaw in his system.</p>
<p style="line-height:18px;">Eager to please and serve, Phobius seems to have no problems with taking orders. He unquestioningly trusts others and accepts their every word as truth, unless some powerful hunch tells him otherwise. As a result, he is incredibly gullible and easy to manipulate. He knows the difference between right and wrong and can easily tell “good” apart from “bad,” but it'd only take a smooth-talking stranger to convince him to act in a way that might conflict with his morals.</p>
<p style="line-height:18px;">As far as mental abilities go, Phobius, bluntly put, has the mind of a small child. He's slower at processing things and doesn't necessarily act his age, stuck in a limbo that rests between maturity and immaturity. His attitude is also very childlike, prompting him to react in situations much like someone of his mind's age would; he's quick to run from danger, is easily distracted, and will often cry if he's feeling overwhelmed or scared.</p>
<p style="line-height:18px;">History: Phobius was born in Ereinlen, outside the purportedly “safe” walls of its cities. His mother and father had hoped to raise him in the Forest of Ghosts, where they themselves had lived for years out of fear of persecution, as the myth-Kin seemed to hate their kind almost as much as other xeriin did. A few months after his birth, however, his father disappeared. He was a trader, and it was normal for him to be gone for days at a time while he was out selling his wares, but when weeks went by and he still hadn’t returned home, Phobius’ mother started to fear the worst. Not wanting to risk the safety of their lives any longer, she decided to take Phobius and flee Xaeri. Felnova was the only other Realm that she knew of, and it seemed just as dangerous with its warring factions, but those who’d fled from it told her of a stronghold that still stood within it—one called Vystrania, that was ruled by a great draconic queen. Feeling desperate but hopeful, she traveled to the war-torn realm, eager to find the stronghold and make it their new home. When she arrived, however, she quickly became overwhelmed. She had never been alone in a new place before, much less with a small, defenseless child; how was she supposed to be able to support both of them?</p>
<p style="line-height:18px;">The future was suddenly daunting, and with each passing day, Phobius' mother began to dread it more and more. Word of mouth then reached her of a mysterious orphanage in the mountains, and she arranged to meet with someone who could take her there; her anxious, fearful mind had convinced her that she wasn't fit to raise her son on her own. Promising him that she would come back for him, someday, she left him in the care of the orphanage’s owner. It was the last time that he ever saw her, and not long after, he lost what few memories of her he had. Nevertheless, he enjoyed the time that he spent in the orphanage. He was never adopted, so he never left, and when he was old enough he started to work as a nurse, in an effort to both help the children and repay his home for all that it had done for him.</p>
<p style="line-height:18px;">Abilities: Phobius can manipulate light energy and use it to heal certain wounds, as well as ease the symptoms of mild illnesses and soothe others’ tempers, instilling a sense of calm in them.</p>
Jun 21 2018, 11:05 AM
HEY THERE! I'm Agent, and roleplaying is honestly one of the few things that gives my life meaning. I've loved to write for as long as I can remember, and when I'm not doing that, I'm either reading or playing video games, watching anime (or some stream), or eating something with sugar in it.
Currently in my fourth year of college, looking forward to an extra fifth year and figuring out what the hell I'll do with my life once I've got that diploma in my hands. But we'll cross that rickety old bridge when we have no choice but to.
Uhhh, other than all that, I can't wait to get to know you guys and start writing with you! I'm loving how lore-rich this site is, and the few people I've spoken with so far have been incredibly warm and welcoming. I don't know how else to end this, so... yeah! Fun times inbound! c: