Ulthuan

The Grey Mountains, West of Nuln.

2520, Imperial Calendar

A small Imperial outpost sits atop the rocky plateau overlooking a deep valley. The small, seldom-used pass connects the lands of Brettonia to those of the Empire.

The stone structure of the outpost has been worn by years of rain, snow, and harsh mountain winds. The unlucky soldiers garrisoned here spend weeks at a time without contact with the rest of the Empire.

And now, a gathering was taking place in the crumbling building. Those attending had come many miles to reach this spot. Some had traveled like nobles, riding in luxurious coaches, flanked by obedient attendants and bodyguards; all of which had to be abandoned along the harsh trail leading up the mountain. Some had come alone, regarding the difficult journey as just another in a line of challenges to be overcome in order to achieve perfection. Still others had ridden the wind currents on bestial wings. Some came at the behest of a more powerful master, while others pursued their own designs.

Each of them had been summoned by a letter. To rouse one of their kind into leaving the familiar comforts of home or lair was no small feat, but these were no mere letters. The dark ink that had been applied to the imported papyrus would not be notable to most, but for those with a nose for such things, it was easy to detect the small amount of blood mixed into the ink. Powerful blood. Ancient blood. There was also the fact that each of those who received these letters had been addressed by name; no small feat when some of their names had not been uttered by mortal men for many years. Above all, the reward mentioned in the words of the letter had sparked the fire of greed in the cold hearts of the travelers.

The rich scent of blood is immediately noticeable at the outpost’s entrance. Indeed, it is spattered and smeared across the stones among discarded weapons and scraps of cloth. A voice resonates from the darkness inside.

“You all hail from different lands now, different cultures. We have changed so much since we were banished from the cradle of our civilization. We have changed, we have fought, we have even grown to look different. Yet we all remain tied by one thing. Blood. Most of us have forgotten the old histories, but our blood goes back all the way to Lahmia, in the Lands of the Dead.”

Inside, guttering torches illuminate the main room. A large table in the center is laid out as if for a great banquet. Wine, bread, cheese, fruits and choice cuts of meat cover the table. The voice comes from a man seated at the table. His features are partially obscured by the shadows, but his voice gives him away as a member of the nobility.

“Now, please, take your seats. You must all be weary. Eat, drink, talk amongst yourselves. We must thank the noble sons of the Empire for providing such a bounty, especially our host, Captain Stern.” The man waves his hand, indicating the table’s gruesome centerpiece. A man lies across the table, his grey and white attire marking him as a soldier of the province of Wissenland. The man’s eyes are wide and roll slowly in their sockets. A quiet groan is all he can manage as the dark stranger lifts his wrist and makes a fresh incision with a sharpened nail. The blood drips into a waiting goblet. After a moment, he lifts the goblet to his lips and drinks deeply, waiting for the others to take their seats.

OOC: Please post your characters and any questions/suggestions here. If you didn't read the other thread, the "heroes" of this RP are going to be villains, vampires to be exact. You can choose from any bloodline, just keep the characters believable (No Vlad VonCarsteins or super-powerful-dragon-riding-nechrarch-lords ). Since no one has said otherwise, I assume everyone is ok with using the SPAM system. I'll start the IC thread as soon as we get enough signed up.

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Setesh Akhen-Isfet, Commander of the Heralds of Oblivion

Ok... I'm sort of unfamiliar with SPAM so could someone explain to me how it all works and how I create a character for it.

Once it's explained I'll enter my character. I'm thinking something along the lines of either a Blood Dragon or Strigoi.

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Azazel Fellmane, The Black Pearl of Anar
Champion of Oblivion
Fashion Guru of Chaos
Elven Skins Flayed: 240
36/4/4

The Confused Barbarian... Lost in the the seas near Lustria.

Edit: Here ya go Darkness, that's a quick guide to the SPAM system. I think the only change to that is that we get 12 skill points instead of 10, but Amun will have to confirm that.

Alright, Montel's up for round two. If I get to enhancing his fluff and such I'll do so, as my writing skills have improved since Uneasy Alliances.

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Name: Montel Preznant

Age: 87 (although his aging stopped at 21)

Race: Lahmian (formerly Empire)

Appearance, Weapons and Armour:

Montel looks like a dashing fellow; confident and charming. He wears his long, chestnut brown hair in a ponytail, and his army-green eyes are always lightly squinted.

He wears loosely fitting clothes that would match a fairly rich Imperial noble; nothing too noticeable or remarkable about them.Under it he wears a suit of pitch-black studded leather offering little in protection but much in stealth. Unseen in the shadows, he quickly makes his way towards targets he couldn’t pursue or that know too much and finish them off.

To finish his opponents off he uses two curved daggers, used for stealth ambushes and quick killing. What they lack in range Montel makes up for in speed, often getting up close with opponents making long-ranged weapons useless.

On the daggers he has a very potent poison intent on making his muscles fail, it can be hindering to deadly depending on how much poison the victim has suffered and how well his body can resist it. The first stage is the victim feeling it is harder to swing his weapon as fast as he’s used to and he notices his movements are slower than normal. The second stage is that his limbs start feeling heavy and he feels trouble standing. The third stage causes complete muscle failure, the victim falling on the ground unable to lift his limbs. Then the final stage kicks in and the most important muscle starts failing, the heart.

Montel always enjoys watching his victim going from the third to the final stage and sometimes he even starts feasting as they’re helpless. He finds the look of raw terror on their face priceless as they try to scream for help in vain, their vocal cords already disabled and useless.

History:

Montel used to live in a quiet town in the Empire, his family had a small piece of land with farm animals and a vegetable garden. The town had a couple of houses, a bakery, a well, a chapel, a barracks and a couple of other buildings where the people lived quiet and peaceful lives. In other words; an agonizingly boring place for Montel. In his boredom he often turned to mischief and petty theft to amuse himself, much to the disgust of the rest of the town. If he was caught he often had to listen to the chapel priest lecturing him about right and wrong, Montel hated the man dearly. He didn’t understand how these simple-minded people could be content with such a dull life, even his parents and siblings were such simple creatures. Montel had to get out of this dung hole, he would take every chance he could get.

After a couple of agonizingly long years he finally found it. A group of Lahmians came and caused havoc in the town, killing villagers or even worse, convincing villagers to kill other villagers. Montel merely smiled in amazement, these beings did what they wanted and were having fun. As the Lahmians systematically destroyed the town they made there way towards his parent’s house where he was currently residing. They were surprised to see him smiling so happily, even after they had murdered his parents.

“You amuse me human, why do you not cower like the rest or mourn for your fallen relatives?” she asked, her handing reaching out to stroke his cheek.

Their was an air of authority about her and Montel had no idea the Lahmian was playing mind tricks on him, seducing him where he stood.

“Why cower for such marvellous beings, which have complete freedom to do what they please? And I do not mourn as I do not care about simple beings that are content with such a simple life.”

The Lahmian nodded with a curious grin on her face, she decided to let the human live for now as he seemed to be far different from the other townsfolk. Montel then decided this could be his chance for a more interesting live; he mustered some courage and convinced himself to ask.

“I… I wish to be just as marvellous as your kind, the past years I have been trapped in this dull town, living a boring and agonizing life. Trapped between these simple minds that are content with this life, constantly reprimanding me for trying to bustle this place to life with some theft and mischief. Especially that damned pries who lectured me every time…” he said and after a short pause a spark flashed in his eyes as he thought of something. “The priest, is he still alive, can I… can I watch as you kill him?” Montel said with a slight bit of hope in his voice.

The Lahmian laughed, a particularly sadistic and creepy laugh but Montel liked it. “You have potential human, you certainly possess the right attitude. However, I am not sure if you have the deeds to fit your words. We normally save the priest for the last and have some fun, but tonight we’ll make an exception. You kill the priest with a simple dagger in the heart and you shall receive the blood kiss, mortal.” She said and she was surprised to see him nod eagerly in reply.

As they entered the chapel he saw the priest in his chair, held firmly in place by two Lahmian women. He slowly approached the priest with the dagger in his hand.

“Run Montel, get out of here while you can.” The priest shouted, but his eyes widened as he saw the dagger in Montel’s hand and the grin on his face.

“No, priest, I will not run, I will rid the world of an evil instead. You see, good is the freedom to do whatever the hell you want, bad is when people prevent you from living your life the way you want it. So I will now end your vile existence and live the life I always wanted to.” He said and before the priest could respond he quickly sank the dagger into the priest’s chest, piercing his heart.

His deeds were followed by applause of the Lahmians and he received the Blood Kiss. From there on he lived exactly the life he wanted, manipulating the simple-minded and doing whatever he pleased.

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Spirit – 3

Mind control – Montel can influence people to the point where they make outrageous deals or even willingly kill their own brother. 2(5)

Physical – 2

Fresh blood – Montel does not only enjoy drinking blood it is important for him. The fresh blood has rejuvenating effects, restoring wounds he has suffered. If he fails to take some every once in a while he will suffer however. 2(4)

Agility – 4

Like a Shadow – Even the slightest shadow is enough for Montel to stay unnoticed, giving him the opportunity to stalk his prey without worries. 2(6)

Amazing Acrobat – Montel can bend his bodies in ways mortals never can, dodging projectiles with more ease than others can or jumping far out of range in the blink of an eye. 2(6)

Swift Killer – The art of killing is a precious feat and Montel has learned quick and efficient ways. Getting up close prevents long range weapons from doing harm and allows his daggers to mutilate quickly leaving the poison to do the rest. 2(6)

Mental – 3

Death’s Embrace – Montel’s poison of muscle failure, made to infuse fear in the victim and slowly kill him off. He enjoys to feast on his opponents while they are still alive, laughing at their fear. 2(5)

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Looking good, Amun. I'll be sure to do some interesting things to make your job as host as difficult as I can.

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Illidan:I can't do anything about it! It's a proven fact that men think of sex at least every 20 seconds. >_>
Mel'Reyna: hehe
Mel'Reyna:i only think about it every 21 seconds
Mel'Reyna:

You didn't see anything! *eyelidtwitch*

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Name: Sturm di Matar

Age: 234 (appears 28)

Race: Bretonnian human

Bloodline: Blood Dragon

Description: When he was alive, Sturm was a handsome man. Now in undeath he still retains his good looks and his long black curly hair, although he's become a lot paler than before. His eyes, once the colour of midnight have turned icey blue. Standing 6'4" he's an imposing figure in his black full plate armour decorated with images of a skull and roses. Having been a knight in life Sturm still lives by his code of honour.

Background: Son of Uther di Matar and Lady Juliet du Chaleot, Sturm di Matar was born and bred to be a knight of Bretonnia. By the age of 16 his skill at arms surpassed those of his teachers and by the age of 20 he was one of the most established knights in his duchy, gaining a reputation for an honourable warrior, but an unrelenting adversary. Virtuous and noble, he rose through the knightly ranks quickly.

Sturm's downfall however was his yearning for greater challenges. Having bested all of his father's knights he set out to seek worthy opponents. He slew huge orcs, dark wizards, fell beastmen and all manner of twisted monsters. He came close to death many a time, but always he moved ever onwards on his quest to find more opponents. That is until he met Hathon Arrete.

One evening as the sun had already set and Sturm was still on the road, planning to spend the night in a village up ahead when he ran into another mounted knight. He couldn't see it because of the darkness, but there was something odd about this knight, something sinister. His horse seemed nervous beneath him and the unknown knight had set himself in the middle of the road, blocking it. When he spoke Sturm felt like a chill wind had blown from the knight straight to his bones.

"You are Sturm di Matar, the knight in search of a worthy challenge to meet him?" he asked and Sturm, taken off by this, answered in the affirmative. "Allow me to introduce myself. I am count Hathon Arrete, a vampire of the Blood Dragons. I have come to give you the challenge you seek" as soon as Sturm heard the vampire reveal who he was he drew his sword and lowered his vizor. "Abomination, I will put an end to your misery!" he proclaimed, but was somehow stopped by the vampire's raised hand. "Hold your temper knight. I challenge you to an honourable duel to determine which of us is the finer swordsman. We will fight on foot armed only with our swords. No magic, no prayers, only steel against steel. I challenge your honour knight, do you accept?" he grinned, but Sturm couldn't see it. Determined to put this affront to the Lady to the sword he nodded and the combatants dismounted. Sturm threw his shield aside and raised his sword in a salute which, to his astonishment, his opponent returned. Then the battle began.

From the very first stages of the duel it was clear that Sturm was outmatched. His opponent was faster, stronger and more skillful than the young Bretonnian and he was forced to give ground quickly. Under the onslaught of steel, Sturm quickly tired and it wasn't long until he felt his opponents sword sink into his gut. That was his last memory as a living man.

SPAM:

Spirit: 3
- Fight through pain: Sturm's willpower is so strong that he can fight on and even shrug off wounds that would drop even other vampires. 2 (5)
- A warrior's instincts: Sturm appears to have foresight into situations. He's nigh impossible to ambush or surprise and he senses when someone's being dishonest. 2 (5)
- Honourable: Sturm is still an honourable warrior which, when he passes himself off as a human, make him more likable and convincing. 2 (5)

Physical: 4
- Blademaster: Trained by the most skilled warriors while he was alive and tutored by many more since, Sturm is truly a master combatant. 2 (6)
- Strenght of Steel: Strenghtened by unholy powers, Sturm is capable of breaking apart reinforced doors and snapping a man's bones like mere twigs. 2 (6)

Agility: 3
- Unnatural reflexes: Sturm's experience as a warrior has given him unnaturally sharp reflexes. 2 (5)

Mental: 2

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Prince Deral Lionbane, head of the House of Lionbane, Lord of Lionstone and Warden of Tor Charta

Luna, try not to beat them too hard. They are proud about their pseudo-glorious past and their present nothingness, you know.
-Elmoth, about Caledorians

Thanks for the link Illidan, as for my character I'll try have him up tomorrow at the latest. I'm thinking of going Strigoi too if that helps out.

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Azazel Fellmane, The Black Pearl of Anar
Champion of Oblivion
Fashion Guru of Chaos
Elven Skins Flayed: 240
36/4/4

The Confused Barbarian... Lost in the the seas near Lustria.

If you've got room for another player, I'd be interested. I'm not familiar with the system, but I'm happy to learn and I've got one or two ideas about a character.

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Rezaile the Puppet Master - 30/8/6 - 340 kills
Herald of Oblivion
Lord of Twilight on the High Council of the Everchosen
High Prince of Yvresse

Oh, and some advice from someone who has played several SPAM-based roleplays... don't stuff your skills full with things that are only useful for combat. A good host makes sure there are non-combat situations aplenty, and then you'd wish for some skills in those situations.

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Illidan:I can't do anything about it! It's a proven fact that men think of sex at least every 20 seconds. >_>
Mel'Reyna: hehe
Mel'Reyna:i only think about it every 21 seconds
Mel'Reyna:

Plenty of room. I like to have as many players as possible at the start, as there is almost always one or two dropouts along the way.

Thanks for post that link, Illidan, I forgot. SPAM is great for these online RP's. It adds depth and some guidelines without having to mess with lots of stats and pen and paper work. Oh, and I think someone mentioned this already, but you get 12 points to spend on skills rather than 10.

I'll give it a day or two for people to get their characters up before I start. If there is anyone wanting to join after that, its not hard to jump in. We've got an interesting mix so far, looks like I'll go with a VonCarstein to even things out a bit.



Good advice! Not many people realize this, but Strigoi can be quite charming in social situations!

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Setesh Akhen-Isfet, Commander of the Heralds of Oblivion

I'll be doing a von Carstein of sorts, actually - if that helps.

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Rezaile the Puppet Master - 30/8/6 - 340 kills
Herald of Oblivion
Lord of Twilight on the High Council of the Everchosen
High Prince of Yvresse

That's fine, I was surprised when we got two Strigoi, one Lahmian, a Blood Dragon, and no VonCarsteins.

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Setesh Akhen-Isfet, Commander of the Heralds of Oblivion

Okay here's my character. Hopefully he's alright. This is my first go at using the SPAM system.

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Name: Josef Kharnulf
Age: 137 (Was reborn as Vampire at about 37)
Race: Human – from the realms of Stirland
Bloodline: Strigoi

Description:

Josef is tall, one of the larger men in his village standing at around 6’1”. He has a large and muscled physique, with strong arms and broad shoulders from his years as a huntsman in the forests of Stirland. His hair is a dusty brown with flecks of grey starting to appear through it around the roots while his eyes which were once brown are now a strong yellow that glow like the light of Morrslieb. His face is rugged but not in the way that many would call handsome, covered in the scars of many a fight. To match his appearance he wears a set of filthy clothes, long warn from hunting, the sleeves of the shirt torn and frayed near the hem, whilst his pants barely pass his knees and yet are still coated with the brown of mud.

Despite his tough appearance he is surprisingly friendly when he’s not driven mad by hunger. He gets of well with other peasant folk and villagers though he is awkward at festivals and parties with the aristocracy though the occasional noble does little to bother him. Josef has a limited education, though he is able to read and write and learns quickly under the right circumstances. From his years as a hunter he is skilled with his axe and bows though since he was bitten he prefers to use his own hands as he tears the throat out of his foes.

His bestial is a large beast more akin to a wolf in appearance and bear in size than the bat, with the form having large talons were the wings once were. While on most days he can calm the beast the overpowering presence of the scent of blood can drive him into an insatiable thirst that sets it free and leads to a trail of destruction. Over the years he has used the form to develop a bond with the beast of nature such as the wolves and bears that draw them to him, making them trust him and willing to fight alongside of him.

Background:

Josef grew up in a small village near one of the many forests of Stirland, in a tight knit community that could date the presence in the area back centuries, many of them having never set foot in another town. Not much ever happened in the town other than the occasional death in the forest that was attributed to carelessness or a hunting accident. As a child he held little aspirations for his future other than to grow up strong, find a good wife and learn to hunt. Hunting had always been something he loved and was taken out for the first time with his father at the tender age of 8 armed with nothing other than a dagger and a short bow. From then on he lived his life as he wished and as the years passed he became a better hunter, stronger and smarter and just like his friends he found a wife and got a happy family to call his own.

One day whilst in the market place near the towns centre he overheard some of the locals talking. “It was huge I tell you, the biggest bear I’ve ever seen. The strange thing was that it just appeared out of nowhere behind us and killed Hans, ripping his head off like it was nothing before it disappeared again just as quickly.” He’d heard about the passing of Hans but not this particular story and passed it off as an exaggerated tale. Though, over the passing weeks the thought hung in the back of his mind that something was out there as more deaths occurred, with those who returned claiming it to be the result of some monster lurking in the shadows of the forest. Eventually a meeting was called and it was decided that something must be done.

This was how Josef ended up in the woods now, abandoned and hurt. All the others who had come along were gone, their bodies nothing more than rotting carcasses to be found by the next unlucky group. Alone, he thought to himself. He looked through the trees to see if there was anywhere for him to seek shelter. It was now well past midnight and a winter chill had descended upon the forest leaving Josef to slowly freeze to death. Pulling himself to his feet he rubbed the bruises on his back where the thing got him, sending him sprawling into a tree. He limped though the forest lost and alone with nothing to defend himself with other then the dagger he’d had since a kid and a broken bow stave. After what felt like a couple of hours to him he stumbled upon a cave, hidden by the undergrowth. Only a few feet from the cave was a creek with fresh water where he collapsed and drank the fresh taste renewing some of his lost strength; though there was a strange taste to it, almost coppery but he dismissed it quickly picking himself up.

As he walked into the cave he wondered what lay within its dark hold and after a few metres he too was consumed by its’ darkness. “Well it beats dying out there I guess” he told himself cheerfully, trying to see the bright side of his misery. He went a bit further into the cave before stopping. He could smell something, he was certain of it. Like the water this too had a coppery scent to it along with what was becoming a nauseating stench of decay, like there was a horde of unburied bodies. Suddenly behind him he heard something move and turned quickly, the dagger now drawn but there was nothing there. He cursed at himself for being so foolish when he heard it again, this time from further within the cave. Gulping he made his way in slowly as his eyes adjusted to the cave darkness and listened for any further sounds but there were none. After a few minutes he was about to give up when he heard a sly chuckle followed by what sound like the snapping of bones and the tearing of sinews. “Wh... who goes there” he quivered. There was another little chuckle and something rolled up against his feet. As he looked down he saw the mangled head of one of the others who came with him and he quickly moved back before tripping, hitting his head hard on the rock floor below him and as the lights faded out he saw a pair of cold, relentless eyes staring down at him.

When he re-awoke he was still lying against the cave floor but he was alive. Again he waited for his eyes to adjust before he looked around again. His body was even sorer than the night before and the back of his head was plastered in blood though it wasn’t his own. Then from the shadows in the corner something old spoke. “Tell me mortal why are you here when you should have fled back to your village.” There was something evil and heartless behind the ancient voice and it chilled him to the bone. “I’m here” he spoke with an unrealised strength, “to kill the beast which has been feeding off the men from our village.” It chuckled, the sound all too familiar from the night before. “You can’t kill me. But I can kill you, but I won’t, not yet. I’ll let you starve a bit first and see what lengths you’ll go to too survive.”

Over the next day and a half Josef sat there all alone in the cave with the monster across from him, watching him. It was always watching him. He made it through the first day alright but by the second he needed to drink, he needed food to replenish his strength so he could escape but there was none. All there was were the bodies of his dead friends. “Feeling hungry?” It said mockingly to him. Josef didn’t reply but merely sat there silently and waited. This lasted until the third day, he was so hungry he would eat anything and he was desperate for moisture other than the rare drop of mater from the cave ceiling. “I give in” he said to the thing. He heard it move towards him before it picked him up with a clawed hand, it’s soulless eyes staring into his own. “Good, you have lasted long enough then. From now on you will never be hungry, or need to worry about the frailness of your mortal life.” With that the Strigoi sunk it’s fangs into his neck as he received the blood kiss. He felt a new life running through his veins before he collapsed as the transformation took place. When he awoke the vampire was gone but it had left food for him. Without a second thought he leapt at the bodies of his dead friends and drank their stale blood before devouring their flesh. At the end of his grisly feast there was nothing but the defiled bodies of a meal gone by and so he left to wander the beyond the woods and discover his new world, him and the beast within to accompany him so he would never be alone again.

SPAM:

Spirit – 3
- Beastkin: Josef has become one with the beasts of nature after years of exile and as such has formed a strong bond that allows him to call to them for aid with a loud howl. 1(4)
- Common Folk: When he’s not a feral beast he is a generally likable human and can get on well with the common folk so long as there a no large crowds or hoards of people around him to make him overly nervous. He can even socialise with the occasional noble but he prefers to avoid them where possible. 2(5)

Physical – 4
- Bloodlust: If Josef goes without the taste of blood for too long even the smallest whiff can send him insane with need and will stop anything that hinders him. In combat he can call upon this rage to aid him in his fight. 1(5)
- The Monster Within: While he can control the monster most times there are instances where he prefers to let it out. When this happens he transforms into a creature that both large and mighty as he becomes a monster that is a mix between a bear and a wolf and his threshold for pain is so vast that he’ll fight long past the limits he normally could. 2(6)
- Huntsman: Josef has never forgotten his years as a hunter of the skills he learnt in surviving in the wild. He is proficient with his large hunting axe and a short bow as well as his own hands and teeth and is more than capable of dispatching foes with any of these. 2(6)

Agility – 3
- Graceful Swiftness: Josef has reached a level where his attacks are faster and his movements unnaturally swift allowing him to take his foes by surprise and move in for the kill. 2(5)

Mental – 2
- Bestial Cunning: Josef has reached a point where he starts to think like a beast and has gained an animal instinct that can aid him in his activities from hunting prey to even the occasional conversation. 2(4)

Also just so you know, form Tuesday to Friday of next week I'm away on a school camp so I won't be able to post if it has started. Also unless something changes drastically (ie. a new laptop) I will have difficulties in posting over the first 2 and a half weeks of Octoberas I'll have little to no internet access. I hope this doesn't affect my chance to take part in the RPG.

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Azazel Fellmane, The Black Pearl of Anar
Champion of Oblivion
Fashion Guru of Chaos
Elven Skins Flayed: 240
36/4/4

The Confused Barbarian... Lost in the the seas near Lustria.

I might consider filling up a spot of Necrarch instead of entering Korpi since we have plenty of Strigoi's methinks..

Yes-yes.. I'mma do that.

Character coming up sooner than you'll think =P

edit: Or perhaps another bloodline.. Not sure yet.. x'D I'll get a char up before Monday (night).

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Thar we go!

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Name: Nero Bellum

Age: 872

Bloodline: Necrarch

Description: Nero's regular appearance is that of a grotesque looking rotting carcass with little human or vampyric features left. His personality is reflected by his appearance. Rotten to the core. His malicious ways are rarely rivalled, even by other vampires. Nero has a desire to end all life in the world and replace it with undeath. It takes some serious force to make him consider letting anything live that isn't of use to his own personal agenda. Nero always carries a black tome with him which he uses as a logbook to write down every important observation of discovery of new magic he makes. He likes to keep track of experiments and studies this way in case something important slips from his mind.

Background: A long time ago Nero was a gifted young sorcerer adapt in the heartlands of Old World enjoying his scholarship in the imperial city of Altdorf. His study was brutally interrupted when in his dreams he started to pick up disturbing obscure hints of a deathly tower in the forests surrounding the city. Dark calls of an ancient evil lured the naive sorcerer to the forest where in the very forest itself seemed to whisper his name in a guiding way. As Nero walked on a dark path of the forest the landscape slowly changed from green to blighted black. The soil growing soggy and trees slowly losing their leaves while the very air gained a scent of decay. Alarmed but with his curiosity burning deep inside his heart Nero crossed a withered bridge with a sickly green stream running underneath it. The tower of his dreams rose on the horizon as Nero walked further into the blighted lands. The sun slowly setting over this by Sigmar forsaken kingdom. By now Nero's instinct to flee was fighting a battle against the insane urge to continue and find out what was lurking within these parts. As he arrived the immense wooden door creaked open and a void of darkness greeted Nero's arrival to the tower. The rotting scent that tickled his nostrils was almost too much to bear for the mortal as he stepped inside driven by a strange sense of curiosity that somehow overcame the fear.. When Nero's eyes adjusted to the utter darkness within the tower the doors behind him slammed shut and two eyes lid up, radiating with a sense of ancient evil, and stared at him from the darkness. A strange sense of acceptance and respect sparked in Nero's brain as he figured out what this being must be. To die at the hands of something legendary was not that bad, he thought, although perhaps a wee bit early. Yet something told him that he wasn't here to die..

Fifty years, Nero served as a dark acolyte to the Necrarch lord of darkness before his efforts were rewarded with a bloodkiss to lengthen his usefulness. After another 600 years of studying, experimenting and aiding his master Nero had learned sufficient knowledge to take his leave and continue on his own since his master no longer required his aid. Fresh diciples would take his place and he would become a master of his own.. Until something intervened.. Something that Nero had not forseen.. Soon after settling in an abandoned watch tower of his own in the marshes north of his former home a letter arrived. Exactly how anyone managed to find him was quite strange as he didn't think any mortal was stupid enough to tread in these parts. And the letter even addressed him to his own name.. The rich scent of power that emerged from the blood infused ink explained the matter quite sufficiently and Nero immediately set out to attend to this gathering of evil might..

Equipment:
- Black Grimoire; A simple blackened, leather bound tome that contains a log of event and notes of experiments that date throughout the last eight ages.
- Robe; blighted black robes that have been worn down and patched up throughout a century. Some vague hints can be found when observed carefully that they once belonged to a scholar of Altdorf.

SPAM!

Spirit: 4

- Necromancy ~ Nero's mastery over death allows him to raise beings from the dead and patch up those already raised. 2 (6)

- Death and Decay ~ Purely negative energy seethes within Nero's might just waiting to be released in a arcing blast of death to all of his opponents. 2 (6)

- Shroud Of Souls ~ Spellbound within Nero's robe are hundreds of souls who will eagerly give up their tormented unlife to protect their master and be freed of his control. 2 (6)

- Grotesque Concealed ~ Nero can hide his true form when he needs to. His grotesque being concealed with measureless magic. 1(5)

- Unholy Cynosure ~ Nero can focus his power into another plane to forsee the future and alter the present. 1 (5)

Physical: 3

- Supreme Vampyric Mastery ~ Although his Necrarch bloodline has the benefit that it requires less blood to sustain it's might the rejuvenating qualities to undead flesh are not to be forgotten. 1 (4)

Agility: 2

Mental: 3

- Forbidden Lore ~ Long must one study to gain sufficient knowledge of the Netherworld. But time is not an issue to an undying scholar. 1 (4)

- Ancient Wisdom ~ Over the ages Nero has conducted many studies to life, death and undeath. His knowledge of all three exceeds that of most mortals and he can figure out most psychological traits of someone before they speak more than two sentences. 2 (5)

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First attempt at a character. I'm broadly happy with it, luckily. Do let me know if there are any problems.

Name: Anais von Carstein

Age: Appears to be in her early twenties but is actually closer to 120.

Race: Imperial Human

Bloodline: von Carstein

Description: Anais’ most distinguishing feature is her straight white-blonde hair, which she wears down to her shoulders and braided back. Otherwise, she is a slender, non-descript though attractive woman of a little below average height (5’3”) with pale blue eyes and sharp, pointed features. She prefers to wear elaborate robes the colour of dried blood, but will wear a dress or light leather armour if the situation calls for it. The one constant is the silver necklace that she wears, and the belt strapped about her waist with a sword and a pistol attached to it.

Background: Anais was born the daughter of a lesser lord in the Imperial province of Stirland, just across the border from the cursed and haunted province of Sylvania. Her family was never rich, which limited her chances for an advantageous marriage, but it also meant that she was the apple of her father’s eye. This was to have grave consequences later, for the young girl grew up with a fascination for the tales told of the dark forests so close to her home. There were not many stories, but she drank in those that were told and many said that her interest in the dead was unnatural for one so young.

Her father encouraged it, however, hoping that his daughter, who was clearly intelligent, would find a place in the priesthood of Morr for they were much in demand close to the Sylvanian borders. And, for a long time, it seemed as though Anais would indeed choose that path. She spent much of her time investigating the lore of the god and talking to the priests of his order. Admittedly, it was an odd choice for a daughter of the nobility, but one that still carried much honour with it in many eyes. Further, with an older brother who would inherit the family land (such as there was), it comforted her now aging father that she had a path to walk in life.

Unfortunately, Anais was not as dedicated as her father thought. Or rather, while she had grown more and more fascinated with death and the dead, the little that she had learned from the priests did not satisfy her craving to know more and nor did it seem to suggest anything in the vein of what the old stories said was possible. Oh, Anais knew that those stories were blasphemous and not be trusted, but the thrill of dark power – power that would raise the ambitious young woman above the Emperor – was stronger than any caution. So, one night not long after her twentieth birthday, Anais fled the castle and took the eastward road into Sylvania. She was accompanied by only a pair of guards and armed only with a pistol but this did not seem to deter her from riding towards the ruins of Drakenhof Castle, once seat of the dread von Carsteins.

Of course, she never made it there. En route, her party was ambushed by the retainers of one of the von Carsteins, who then dragged her before their lord. The vampire took one look at the noble’s daughter and, for some reason known only to him, chose to make her like him. That night, he made Anais into a vampire, a gift that she took in the spirit in which it was offered. Thus, though she took every opportunity to learn what she could from her sire, Anais also took her first opportunity to switch her allegiance to a more powerful von Carstein lord. There she was able to begin studying the arts of Necromancy and of diplomacy, learning to take her place in the courts of her kind while also acting as a representative to other vampires. The arrival of a letter addressed to her and written with the power of ancient blood would have been enough to intrigue her, even without the added incentive of a reward. Her Lord was gracious enough to give her leave to attend the gathering, and so she and a small number of living bodyguards had travelled across the Empire to attend.

SPAM:

Spirit 3
Adept Necromancer – Her youth aside, Anais is a promising necromancer. 1 (4)
Dark Majesty – Mortals cower before the presence of their vampiric betters. 2 (5)
Diplomat – Since her death, Anais has served as a representative of her family on several occasions. 2 (5)
Noble Blood – As a member of an Imperial noble family, even if a lesser one, Anais is quite familiar with the rules and strictures of protocol. 1 (4)

Physical 3
Fencer – One of the areas that Anais studied was sword fighting, because it remains a favourite of her bloodline. 1 (4)

Agility 3
Deadly Shot – Children on the border of Sylvania learn to defend themselves, and Anais finds this skill useful even now. 2 (5)
Unnatural Dexterity – The gift of her von Carstein blood, Anais has a predatory grace to her movements. 2 (5)

Mental 3
Scholar – Anais has spent much of her life and unlife investigating death, and knows many of its secrets. 1 (4)

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Rezaile the Puppet Master - 30/8/6 - 340 kills
Herald of Oblivion
Lord of Twilight on the High Council of the Everchosen
High Prince of Yvresse

@LordAnubis Looks fine to me!

@Noodle Thanks for switching, I forgot about the Necrarchs.

@Darkness As long as I know ahead of time, being absent won't be a problem. If you're not around when I do a new turn, I'll just consider you to be tagging along, helping/fighting as needed.

Good looking characters everyone! I'll get the IC thread rolling either tonight or tomorrow.

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Setesh Akhen-Isfet, Commander of the Heralds of Oblivion

No problem ^^ But it wouldn't be a proper Vampire RP without the Gods of Death.

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Let's get this party started, bitches.

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Illidan:I can't do anything about it! It's a proven fact that men think of sex at least every 20 seconds. >_>
Mel'Reyna: hehe
Mel'Reyna:i only think about it every 21 seconds
Mel'Reyna:

My character wasn't really meant to be mysterious. Guess it would have helped if I had posted my character sheet earlier.

Name: Doru Von Carstein
Age: 470 (has been in hibernation for most of this time)
Race: Human - Imperial
Bloodline: Von Carstein

Description: Doru resembles a typical member of the nobility. He looks handsome, clean and well-groomed. He stands around 6’, with dark hair and deep green eyes. His clothes are finely tailored, though they have been out of style for centuries. Doru has retained much of his humanity, his pale skin and fangs being the only sign of vampirism that is usually visible.

Background: Doru began his career as a diplomat in the lands of Sylvania, serving Vlad Von Carstein himself. Doru greatly admired his master, believing the undead lord would make the perfect ruler of mankind, and that his eternal reign as emperor would bring lasting peace. After the Vampire Wars began, Doru made it his mission to try and convince the foolish Elector Counts to lay down their arms and embrace the gift of undeath. During one attempt at negotiation, a fight broke out and Doru found himself lying on the floor, watching his lifeblood flow out. He awoke, days later, to find his wounds healed by the vampiric blood that had replaced what he had lost. Overjoyed at this honour, Doru worked with renewed vigor, recruiting those who shared his vision and slaying those who refused. Doru’s hopes for a better world were crushed by Vlad’s death. Still, he did his best to serve Vlad’s insane successor, Konrad. As Konrad’s madness and fear of betrayal drove him to kill his own allies, Doru was smart enough to make himself scarce. Doru’s hopes were raised once more when Mannfred came to power. Doru helped in sealing the truce with a group of Lahmians who aided Mannfred. However, when Mannfred’s army was destroyed, Doru knew that Mannfred and his followers would be the next to fall, so he fled, hiding in a deep underground tomb. With the help of ancient magic to preserve his body, Doru slept soundly for centuries, until an intruder broke the enchantments and awakened him. Doru fell upon the intruder and sated his thirst. Only afterwards did he notice the letter clutched in the messenger’s shriveled hand. Unsure how long he had been asleep, and curious to see how the world had changed, Doru followed the instructions in the letter, cautiously making his way to a small Imperial outpost…

SPAM:

Spirit: 2
Dark Bolt - Doru’s knowledge of magic is limited, but he can focus his power into a bolt of pure Dark Magic, hopefully hitting the target. 2(4)
Beast Within - Like many of his kind, Doru can let the monster inside of him emerge when he needs to, though he views this only as a last resort. 1(3)

Physical: 3
Swordplay - Though not a warrior by trade, Doru has fought in many battles, and with the addition of supernatural strength, he can best most mortal opponents when he needs to. 2(5)

Agility: 3
Survivor - Doru has lived through three wars, and has survived where many of his kind did not. Some might call it luck, but he has the uncanny ability to avoid harm. 2(5)

Mental: 4
Master of tongues - As a diplomat, Doru became fluent in most languages of the Old World. He can also recognize and mimic almost any accent, allowing him to blend in. 2(5)
Historian - Being 400 years old means that what is ancient history for most seems like only yesterday for Doru. He has extensive knowledge of human and vampire history, including the other bloodlines. 2(5)
Driven - Doru still clings to dreams of undead dominion, but seeing lords like Vlad and Mannfred fail has convinced him that he will have to find another way. With his determination and diplomatic skill, he is able to inspire or sometimes coerce others to do his bidding. 1(5)

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Setesh Akhen-Isfet, Commander of the Heralds of Oblivion

Unfortunately from the 1st of October onwards up until the 18th or 19th I'm without a computer, so unless I'm at a friends place I'll be unable to post. I know you cleared this already just thought some dates might help

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Azazel Fellmane, The Black Pearl of Anar
Champion of Oblivion
Fashion Guru of Chaos
Elven Skins Flayed: 240
36/4/4

The Confused Barbarian... Lost in the the seas near Lustria.

But you're our plaything! You can't leave now! Q_Q

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It's okay NoOoDLe, I'll be back before you know it and hopefully I can get over to a friends place and get online.

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Azazel Fellmane, The Black Pearl of Anar
Champion of Oblivion
Fashion Guru of Chaos
Elven Skins Flayed: 240
36/4/4

The Confused Barbarian... Lost in the the seas near Lustria.

Just so that everyone knows, I will be away from tomorrow (Wednesday) until Saturday, or possibly later. I won't be posting during that time, but I will make sure to keep you up to date when I know more. Have fun, everyone.

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Rezaile the Puppet Master - 30/8/6 - 340 kills
Herald of Oblivion
Lord of Twilight on the High Council of the Everchosen
High Prince of Yvresse

Copied from the DAU.

So.. I guess that means this'll have a temporary hiatus till at least some of them are back, then? Can't go too far forward with over half of the players missing.

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Illidan:I can't do anything about it! It's a proven fact that men think of sex at least every 20 seconds. >_>
Mel'Reyna: hehe
Mel'Reyna:i only think about it every 21 seconds
Mel'Reyna:

I was trying to avoid putting it on hold, but yeah... I can't move the story forward till we drag at least a couple people back.

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Setesh Akhen-Isfet, Commander of the Heralds of Oblivion

I'm back and happy to start posting again, depending on who else is.

Apologies for the long break though.

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Rezaile the Puppet Master - 30/8/6 - 340 kills
Herald of Oblivion
Lord of Twilight on the High Council of the Everchosen
High Prince of Yvresse

Back too

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Prince Deral Lionbane, head of the House of Lionbane, Lord of Lionstone and Warden of Tor Charta

Luna, try not to beat them too hard. They are proud about their pseudo-glorious past and their present nothingness, you know.
-Elmoth, about Caledorians

Alright! Don't want to let this die, so we'll carry on without The Darkness. Someone just put a leash on the Strigoi and bring him along please.

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Setesh Akhen-Isfet, Commander of the Heralds of Oblivion

I volunteer the Blood Dragon for that unenviable job.

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Rezaile the Puppet Master - 30/8/6 - 340 kills
Herald of Oblivion
Lord of Twilight on the High Council of the Everchosen
High Prince of Yvresse

As I currently have temporary internet access I thought it may be good to post and make sure that your using a decent chain on my Strigoi.

Also I should have a laptop back in about a week and a half around the aforementioned dates.

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Azazel Fellmane, The Black Pearl of Anar
Champion of Oblivion
Fashion Guru of Chaos
Elven Skins Flayed: 240
36/4/4

The Confused Barbarian... Lost in the the seas near Lustria.