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 Posted: Sat Jan 08, 2011 5:53 pm
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Posted: Sat Jan 08, 2011 6:15 pm
How Our Story Began... x
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xWe are the hunted.
Members of the third race, children of Oberon…Avalon is our birthright.
Though there are many that would deny us the very air we breathe.
Humans.
Not all are bad. Not all are good. They are the same as we of the third race. They are however, the most abundant species on these grounds, and therefore, a terrible foe. Especially with their armor, shields, weaponry, and malice…
Many of my brethren and sisters have fallen by their hands.
During the reign of King Cerdic of Wessex, in the year of 519, my people’s persecution became even greater. Centaurs could no longer watch the stars with peace of mind. Nymphs and fairies no longer danced. Gargoyles, stone by day, no longer could sleep peacefully…for often, they never woke up.
As the raids and discrimination grew more violent, my small clan—consisting of every kind of species of the third race—began to dwindle in numbers until only a handful of us remained. Humans finally cornered us into a small meadow within the woods; spilling our blood in our own home.
A magician friend of ours however, came to our aid and allowed us a chance to cheat death. Before he died, Breanthan cast upon my small clan an incantation. For one thousand and five hundred years we would sleep within stone shells. These stone encasings would protect us from all weather, sword, or harm until we awoke…and then, our dear archmage fell into a permanent sleep.
I, Alilin, the leader of this clan, also did not survive the battle. Holding back the guards for as long as I could in order to give the magician time to cast the spell, the humans finally overwhelmed me. Not even griffens are invulnerable.
I can only pray now that my family, in this new world they awake to, can find peace.
- - - - -
These stone monuments, unable to be destroyed, were preserved throughout the years. Eventually, they came to be valued artifacts, supposedly made by some ancient civilization. Bought by an American museum, the statues were transported from the British Isles to the well-known social hub of Nashville, Tennessee.
Having been in the museum for a week and their big debut the following day, this night will fullfil the archmage’s contract of one thousand and five hundred years. Is that enough time for hatred, prejudice, and bigotry to subside? Or will the past repeat itself until extinction?
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Posted: Sat Jan 08, 2011 7:47 pm
The Talismans Ancient relics hailing from the beginning of creation.
Forged by titans.
Wielded by gods.
The talismans were created by Jupiter and his two brothers—Neptune and Pluto—in order to defeat their father, Saturn in a battle that would change the fate of the world.
It is said that the one that wields all three has the power to destroy or create anew.
But of course. This is only the stuff of legends.
The Shield of Jupiter
About the size of a man’s hand, this emblem was forged in gold with an eagle and lightning bolt featured on the front. It has the power to give its user ultimate power—specific powers varying from person to person. It will meld into the user’s body and make them invulnerable. Along with this great power comes a great price. The true nature of the user will be manifested by wearing the shield, often causing the user to lose themselves to their darker inclinations.
The Trident of Neptune
Capable of shifting from the size of a pendent to the height of a full grown man, the trident was forged in pure silver. Engrained all over the trident are magical spells—the same incantations that created all life and destroyed it. From summoning a tidal wave to the gift of flight, the user need only grasp the trident and recite a binding oath to access its power. The price of wielding the trident is that the user becomes one with it. Should the trident fall into the hands of another—without breaking the oath first—they become enslaved to the new master. If the trident were destroyed, they would be destroyed along with it.
The Helmet of Pluto
Able to customize its size to fit its wearer, the helmet was forged out of platinum. With the power of invisibility, the helmet also allows the user to travel through time. By becoming invisible, the wearer is even able to escape the gaze of Time and Reality. Its user is able to go anywhere they desire by simply imagining the time and place they wish to go. For each use of this helmet however, the user’s life energy is drained until the point of near death. It would take an average human several days to recover. Perhaps less for those of the supernatural kind.
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Posted: Sat Jan 08, 2011 7:48 pm
Profile Skeleton [imgright]YOUR URL FOR A PICTURE HERE[/imgright]
[color=white]x
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X[/color]
[align=left][b][size=18][color=YOUR COLOR HERE][Character’s First name][/color] [Character’s Last Name][/size][/b]
[color=white]xxxxxxxxxx[/color][size=10]Member of [color=YOUR COLOR HERE][b]The Clan/The Humans/The Slayers/The Justified[/b][/color][/size]
[color=white]xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx[/color][size=10]Our [i][Adjective to describe your character] [/i][color=YOUR COLOR HERE][b][The role your character fulfills][/b][/color][/size]
[color=white]xxxxx[/color][size=11][color=YOUR COLOR HERE][i]Just so you know…[/i][/color]
☒ [Nickname/Name to be called by]
☒ [Age/Age he or she appears to be]
☒ [Special relationship to other characters (siblings, friends, love interest, etc)…if you have none, put in the type of person you’d be interested in…? You can always edit it later.]
[color=white]xxxxx[/color][color=YOUR COLOR HERE][i]I’m very special…[/i][/color]
☒ [Species]
☒ [Motive (slayer for money, trying to stay alive, peace and harmony, etc)]
[color=white]xxxxx[/color][color=YOUR COLOR HERE][i]Here’s a snapshot…[/i][/color]
[Brief description—an adjective or phrase]
[color=white]xxxx[/color] [Brief description—an adjective or phrase]
[color=white]xxxxxxxx[/color] [Brief description—an adjective or phrase]
[color=white]xxxxx[/color][color=YOUR COLOR HERE][i]The voice in my head…[/i][/color]
☒ [Your username][/size][/align]
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Posted: Sat Jan 08, 2011 7:49 pm
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Posted: Sat Jan 08, 2011 7:51 pm
Rules
1. Be respectful.
2. Keep all romance and violence at a PG-13 level.
3. Posts should be at least 250 words long—that’s two to three paragraphs.
4. Try to keep posts no more than 500 words, except for introductions.
My reasoning for this is so that the role players will not get burned out trying to produce 700 words every post.
5. Please send all profiles to me first and wait for my “okay” to post it in the profile board.
6. I encourage people to have deep relationships within the clan.
If you want to have a romance, friendship, or mentorship with someone, please do.
Just make sure you ask the other role player first.
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Posted: Sat Jan 08, 2011 7:52 pm
Filling Plot Holes/FAQs
1. If these creatures lived in the sixth century, how can they understand modern-day English?
Well, they are magicial creatures. So while they may not understand slang, their magicial advantage allows them to comprehend the language of their surroundings.
2. Why Nashville, Tennessee?
Because Tennessee is known as the "Third Ocean" of the United States as so many businesses and people are moving to the little southern state. It just seemed like a realistic possibility for these "artifacts" to be moved there. Also...I'm just pretty familiar with the area so it makes writing and coming up with scenery easier...>> xD
3. So what's up with "The Justified?"
This is a group of people that will eventually--as in, later on--break off from the clan and become antagonists. But until that does happen, your clan member is just that, a member of the clan. So please keep them in that mindset. They can be stand-offish and already have ideas that would make them turn away, but the clan is their family and should act like it. :3
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Posted: Sat Jan 08, 2011 7:54 pm
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Posted: Sat Jan 08, 2011 7:59 pm
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Posted: Wed Jul 27, 2011 4:36 pm
Morgan sighed, tucking her hair behind her ear and began opening a new crate. Another fraud. Some shyster had fooled the bigwigs up top and sold them a bunch of fake medieval statuary for a premium price. They had assured her they could return anything she deemed a fraud, but she knew that vendor would be halfway across the country by now, buying cheap wine by the case and flirting with women… but no, after that deal he could afford expensive wine.
The crate finally fell open. Morgan’s breath caught in her throat. Were these… were these really? Morgan carefully removed the first statue onto the dolly. It was late, she should have gone home already, but the board had never stopped her from pulling late nights before and they sure weren’t going to start now. The only downside was she had to do all the lifting herself, difficult when you were wearing a pencil skirt and heels. Oh, and were fairly out-of-shape.
The statue slid into the pale glow of the single florescent light above. Morgan felt a silly grin spread across her face. The Gargoyle of Avon. She had seen pictures of this statue, even begged her mother to take her to England so she could see it and its brethren statues. Her mother had told her she had a better chance of winning the lottery, and now here it was, right in front of her! Morgan put a trembling hand on the creature’s arm. It was surprisingly beautiful for such a supposedly terrifying creature. The ancient sculptor had spared no detail, she could almost feel the blood stirring beneath the stony skin… oh, but she was being silly. This was a statue; probably a fake one. She ran her hand along it, looking for a flaw or some other sign of forgery.
There was none.
This statue was the real deal!
Excited, Morgan tore open the next crate. A slender feminine form shrouded in stony smoke gleamed in the light. The Djinn! Morgan had to resist jumping for joy. The other crates came open. The whole set! Morgan pumped a fist in the air. This was a dream come true! She almost skipped from statue to statue, revealing in her sneak peek. Tomorrow these statues would be put on display for the world to see, but for tonight they were hers alone.
Morgan turned a bit to quickly, felt her ankle twist awkwardly as her shoe’s heel snapped, and hit the floor, hard. Lights out.
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Posted: Sun Jul 31, 2011 5:14 pm
If you p***k us, do we not bleed? If you tickle us, do we not laugh? If you poison us, do we not die? He always knew when it was time to wake up.
His stomach was a pretty good indicator of that.
The stone encasing Bryson’s body of nearing seven feet steadily grew heated as life permeated through the barrier. Blood once again began to flow where rock was as the gargoyle proceeded to awaken from his sleeping state. Crackling sounds began to whisper through the halls of the museum, and upon closer inspection, rivets and fractures could be seen decorating the once pristine stone.
Finally, the gargoyle drew enough strength to open his eyes. Blinking as stone chipped away, glowing white eyes were suddenly visible before the beast of legend managed to break completely free of his stone prison. Shattering the frigid cage and releasing a deep breath, Bryson emitted a howl frightening enough to echo in nightmares. Sometimes, he liked to call his “wake-up scream” a mating call.
A dinosaur-like tail whipped back and forth while wings, with a span of several feet, stretched to their maximum capacity. Feet with talons were toes should have been supported his muscular body while clawed hands extended in a display of brutal power. Long horns crowned a head of vibrant red hair, draconic ears enjoying the sound of stone chips raining around him.
Soon, Bryson stood in all his gargoyle glory. A claymore was strapped to his back while leather armor protected the skin surrounding his heart. On the opposite side of the leather armor was a shoulder pad, hardened and thickened for the use of shoving his enemies. Encasing both forearms and shins were a mixture of leather and steel bands for further protection. But as a gargoyle with skin almost as hard as the stone he reverted to in the dawn, the armor was mostly unnecessary. With only a brown loincloth wrapped around his waist, the gargoyle stood mostly naked before all eyes to behold. And he seemed perfectly fine with such.
Bryson awoke in a typical manner—at the moment darkness covered the sky—and with his typical display of testosterone—complete with war cry and terrifying poses…the only thing that was not typical, was his surroundings.
Glowing white eyes having reverted to their natural amethyst, the young leader blinked in surprise as his deep and Scottish voice rumbled through the museum, “What kin’ ‘o place is this?”
This place…certainly was not home. The smells were different. The sounds were foreign. This did not feel right at all.
Turning around him, the redhead saw some of his brothers and sisters, and large rectangles made out of wood…what was…what were some of the other doing in stone? They were not gargoyles as he—forced to turn to stone by day…
“Brithers and bonnie lasses!” He cried. Then, he whispered to himself, “Ah cannae kens…where are we?”
Although he smelled her, he knew there was a foreign body in his midst…a human by the scent. But his mind was so full of uncertainty, that all Bryson wanted first was to see his family awaken from their stone prison, just as he had. Family always came first. Only after ensuring they were all together would he deal with this new drama of what had happened in the meadow, the hunters, Ailin, Breanthan…and whatever else life threw his way. And if you wrong us, shall we not revenge? (( OOC: For gargoyle mythology, I'm following the Toon Disney version. Meaning that gargoyles turn to stone by day, which also heals them of any infirmities--but also leaves them open for attack. Bryson cannot quite "fly" but he can glide--meaning he need some wind to help keep his body afloat.
The Hunted is now open! ))
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Posted: Sun Jul 31, 2011 8:01 pm
☆·.¸¸.·´¯`·.¸¸.¤ Sleep. The last thing Artemis remembered was seeing his family fighting to the death and then black. Words echoed in the depths of his ears over and over. The incantation repeated itself. Unconscious sleep was entirely too peaceful. Then a new incantation rang out, only this was not an incantation. “Brithers and bonnie lasses!” was the first thing that echoed against the thick stone surrounding the male.
A statue of what appeared to be a unicorn mid rear was setting inside one of the boxes. Whoever must have crafted such a piece had gathered every detail of muscle in the beast’s body. The tension of muscles as they contracted to steady the rearing animal seemed all too perfect.
Another few words sounded…and then something pulsated. Like a thundering drum the sound of a specific formulated beat reverberated inside the sculpture’s mind. Then the stone began to crack at the tip of the horn. One single crack ran all the way down the neck of the unicorn, across it’s body and down to it’s back hoof. A bright light shone from the tip of the horn and at once the stone had shattered onto the floor.
With a clop the unicorn had dropped to all fours and shook his silvery-white mane. The horse with a horn had a coat of snow white, hoofs adorned with silver and tuffts of fur, and even a tufft of fur right under his chin.
Silver eyes studied the surroundings head turning back and forth. Then they spotted a familiar figure: the gargoyle. Bryson…his leader was standing before him not too far away.
The unicorn walked a few paces forward. Artemis’ horn flickered as he ‘spoke’. “Where…are we?” He was certainly confused and his body was aching from the terrible pose he had been holding for one thousand and five hundred years.
Maybe that was it. The male thought for a moment after his question. An incantation…he had heard an incantation just before he had felt his eyes grow heavy. As his thoughts carried him off the unicorn noticed that several others were in stone and in boxes. Peculiar, very peculiar. ☆═━┈XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX ┈━═☆
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Posted: Sun Jul 31, 2011 10:04 pm
 >>Anger ventilated often hurries towards forgiveness<< X
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His dearest friend’s voice was somewhere nearby. His auburn eyes blinked heavily.
How long as it been? Five years? Five hundred? More?
To this brilliant satyr, it felt as though he were just waking up from a long, nearly eternal, sleep. As the goat-man moved, his limbs felt as heavy as stone. His ears picked up the sound of rock breaking around him. It was a strange noise. Was there an earth quake? And what is the smell in the air? It was musty as if they were in a location away from open air. That didn’t make sense to him. The last place he remembered being was outside in the midst of a ferocious battle to save his life against the damned hunters.
“Bryce,” he croaked his own British accent sounding so strange to him from lack of use, “What is going on? Why were we stone?”
Oberon was finally free to be who he was once more. Oberon, the greatest satyr of their time, named after the creatures’ forefather. His mother knew he’d be great, and yet Oberon didn’t feel great. Oberon felt like he was just following. He needed more, but for now he needed to stick with the clan.
It appeared that no one truly knew what was going on or where they were. The satyr drew himself p to his full height, just barely 5’7 including the tips of his horns. His hand gingerly caressed the bow and quiver of arrows stationed on his back. His right arm actually felt a bit achier than the other. He vaguely remembered attempting reaching for a bow at the time of the sudden sleep. How long had he been in that position? How close had he been to death? Perhaps they all had died. How would any of them know?
Oberon’s hand gently felt around his neck. Thankfully, his beloved syrinx still hung there. Slowly, carefully, he lifted it to his lips and started to play a light song as if it hadn’t been so very long since he had picked it up.
(By the way, Enmy, though this isn't important at all, Gargoyles was a movie first from the 90s. If you haven't seen it, you really should :])X
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<< Anger concealed often hardens into revenge >> 
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Posted: Mon Aug 01, 2011 11:31 pm
ArianaMarks Awoken by the damnedest headache. But to say the least awoken. She couldn't recall anything from before, other than fragments of early childhood and adolescent growth, but nothing directly preceding her slumber. She could vaguely remember being bopped on the head by something heavy and hearing the crack of stone. What a way to put someone to sleep for, how long had it been?
With heavy limbs Ariana heaved herself upright and on the move, looking about at the others with slight evasiveness. She slumped to the floor with an agoraphobic wince at the ones around her. Still as uncomfortable as ever, nothing had changed.
"Wh-Wha?" she stammered slightly panicked.
As her stress increased, so did the number of stone scales appearing on her skin. Soon her black angelic wings rose from her spine and pointed ears raised from her head. She focused herself on calming down, soon her skin turned from a stony scale to just a dingy gray, leaving her looking relatively normal with her ears pricked, and her thin, rapier tail rapped around her for comfort.
"Not to be a bother like," she piped up, letting slip a long resisted Gallic brogue. "But how did we get here? Alls I remember is someone gave me a wee bit of a thump on me head and now I wake here with a crackin' skull. wait till I find who did this to me. Schkelp the mickey out of um I will." She continued to ramble a bit uncontrollably.
She looked about at her comrades, a bit embarrassed by her brogue and by her ramblings. Composing herself enough to rid herself of that horribly undignified accent, she continued to ramble to herself as she stood and began to pace. Remembering something very important, she felt around her waist. Counting carefully she collected twelve daggers around her waist, but her mace was missing. the composure was soon lost.
"Ballix, and me the aul git now." She coughed and continued to look about her, avoiding the others with all possible passive ignorance.
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Posted: Tue Aug 02, 2011 9:04 am
 Blinking her large amethyst eyes slowly, Sahari ridded them of the stone that weighed them down. Gah, how long had it been this time? She was more than used to this; she'd been doing it for eons.
Being imprisoned for long periods of time.
Cramped up in an uncomfortable position.
Unable to move or breathe or walk or run or laugh...
...but she supposed it came with the job.
This time was different, though. Her bottle hung loosely from around the chain on her belly like it always did when she was in human form. Odd. It was usually in the hands of whatever person had discovered it, being rubbed all over with greedy, filthy palms. It was only ever attached to her after she had been temporarily set free... Which meant...
Then it all flooded back. The man in the loud armor with the pretty horse. He was her master. She had awoken to him in a strange land a thousand years ago, surrounded by trees instead of her usual desert. The last thing she remembered...more trees. Fighting. Blood.
He had wanted simple things. Money. A new horse. Things Sahari was all too used to giving. Generally people tended to want easy, material things. Money, a house, servants, a new plow... Sometimes though, she'd get the more difficult ones. Love, power, fame...
One adventurous little girl had wished for one thing only, the power of flight. After the genie had granted it, the girl stretched out her new wings and took off, never to be seen in her tiny little village again. That was her most challenging one yet. Making things appear to exist was her specialty, but if you actually wanted something real...well, you had to wish.
Speaking of which...where was the knight? She supposed he was gone. No telling how long she'd been trapped this time, but it felt long. He still had one wish left, but if he was dead, then...
“Ebn El Sharmoota!”
The tugging began near her magenta bellybutton jewel, and the uncomfortable sucking feeling spread from there. She felt as if her entire body was being sucked into a vortex, being turned into a genie burrito.
Which, in a way, it was.
The top of her bottle popped off, and she was yanked inside most unceremoniously, landing square on her bottom.
This was the absolute worst part of being a djinn.
The ornate gold and magenta bottle sat on the basement floor amidst the other waking magical creatures, as Sahari waited to be set free by a new master.
(OOC: So, how her genie magic works is... she can only be out of her bottle if she has a master, and only when her master says she can be out. While out of her bottle, she can conjure powerful illusions of anything you can imagine, as sort of an advertising technique (look, you can be a prince! With all these hot harem chicks! And an elephant!). Her bottle is attached to her on a chain around her waist at all times. She cannot be separated from it. If the master wants any of her illusions to remain as real, he must wish. But, once his three wishes are up, or her current master dies or otherwise abandons her, she goes back in the bottle until someone new comes along. I'm kinda hoping most of this was clear from the post, but...yeah. Also there are no rules about whether her master has to be a human or not.
Also, the words she spoke were the Arabic equivalent of “Son of a b***h”, according to google. XD)
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