This RolePlay is rated Mature for the usual suspects: Violence, Gore, Occult and Satanic references, Language, Sexual Situations, Nudity, and all things that fall therein. Abandon all hope, ye who enter here!
This RP is officially closed to character applications until further notice.
The World as we see it - our History - is incomplete. The true picture has been cropped and cut to best protect the feeble minds of mankind, sheltering them from the cold and dark that twisted and constricted at the edges of their perception. Why do you think we mortals have an unexplainable fear of the dark and unknown? An innate distrust of what cannot be explained? Ever since we had discovered fire to protect us from what lurked in the shadows, we have huddled close to the flickering light of civilization, doomed to be snuffed out by the darkness that claws and slithers its way ever closer. But not all is lost.
There have been those who stood valiantly, boldly, in the face of such voracious darkness throughout the ages. With the vastness of the world, ideology, and culture separating these courageous souls, they remained united by one singular purpose greater than all others - Preserve the Balance.
What is the Balance, you might ask?
The balance of the world we know and the world we do not. The secret world running parallel with the mortal world. Each side threatening to spill over into the other. Whenever that happens, reality heaves. Fire falls from the skies, rivers run with blood, floods consume the planet, and plagues drag great scores to the Nevermore. The vigil kept by these fiery spirits is thankless and will at times fail, but without them, the world would be a dark and dismal place, uninhabitable by all but the strongest. The more the vigil grew, the more sophisticated they had to become, using a marriage of mortal and supernatural resources to keep both worlds in check. But the Vigils are merely weapons - a shimmering blade and a firm hand against the terror of the Nevermore. In a world where one is surrounded by secrets, knowledge is power. The power of prophecy, to See and Listen to the true nature of the world. Such is the burden and terrible power of the Oracles.
Oracles are mortals bestowed with vast knowledge of things peculiar, queer, and unnatural. Many are lost to the pages of history along with the rest of the secret world, but there are some who, during times of great upheaval, drew attention to the eternal struggle. Gilgamesh, Moses, Jesus, Mohammed, Buddha, Edgar Allen Poe, H.P. Lovecraft - all of them were Oracles who spoke with the Vigil through their works, some of them even taking up the sword themselves. To be an Oracle is an ancient birthright as well as a curse. As one Oracle dies, the next will be born. An unspoken Law of the Balance is that there must always be five Oracles alive at one time. To break the chain of reincarnation would leave the world defenseless to the most sinister of threats from beyond. Despite the efforts of many down the aeons, the mantle of Oracle is not something that can be bred. It is something bestowed seemingly by Providence at birth. When an Oracle is born, a psychic shockwave is felt around the world, most potently by the others of their kind. They will begin experiencing the World-Dream as soon as their mind has matured enough to process such information; usually between 5-9 years of age, depending on the stage of mental maturation.
In 1935, at the rise of the National Socialist Party in Germany, one of the strongest Vigils in the world was brought under the rule of Heinrich Himmler. The Ahnenerbe lent their services to the Nazi party and in turn were provided with resources they needed to further their cause. The cause of the Ahnenerbe was to trace occultism to its primordial roots through any means, and discover how and why Oracles are made. They believed that peace could only be achieved by the eradication of the Nevermore, the Secret World, the shadowy realm from where all things mortals deem unnatural spawn from, and where all spirits go to when their life in the Mortal Realm ends. So obsessed with their cause, they delved into the Black Arts, forbidden by the Laws of the Vigil, and as a result spurred one of the bloodiest conflicts in human history.
The other Vigils met in secret, agreeing that by the Laws, the Ahnenerbe were to be ostracized and outcast, their names stricken from all records. They were labeled as traitors to the Balance and a threat to both worlds. As such, a new Vigil was made, one whose like had never been conceived before. It was called ‘Task Force Valkyrie’. From each of the Vigils, one member was to be offered to the ‘Valkyries’, the best they had. They would be entrusted with the means and authority to hunt the Ahnenerbe and any other Vigil that strays from the Laws, and terminate them. They were meant to be the keen edge of the Balance, to be thrust into the heart of any force from either side that sought to plunge the world into abandon.
Task Force Valkyrie was deployed to counter the expeditions of the Ahnenerbe and their terrible experiments with black magic and occult fringe science. The first time these two forces clashed was upon the misty hills of Karelia, by the White Sea, where the German Occultists were attempting to replicate ancient pagan spells from the local tribes. They would clash again in Tibet, Africa, and various other locations across the world fabled for their natural draw of supernatural power. While the Second World War raged, the Ahnenerbe and the Valkyries fought their own secret war of the occult. This is known to those with the Knowledge as the War of the Broken Vigil, or simply the Vigil War.
As World War II came to a close, the Ahnenerbe scattered, going underground and assumed destroyed before the Axis collapsed completely under the crippling weight of the Allies. With the Anenherbe defeated, the Valkyries had one grim duty left in order to maintain the Balance. While mostly unsuccessful, the SS Occult Division had succeeded in developing some near-Oracle beings, which of course, needed to be terminated as well as the research that had created them.
Onward from their founding, Task Force Valkyrie remained as the iron fist of the Balance, tracking and hunting those who sought to bring about chaos through occult means. Should the other Vigils fail in their duty to protect the Oracles, the Valkyries will swoop in with cold steel and hot lead, much like their namesake. Should it be required, they may be called to terminate a rogue Vigil just as violently as they might burn out a Vampire nest.
The Valkyries are usually humans of either great skill, grit, or with some manner of special ability or item. Occasionally, non-human creatures can be brought on board as a member so long as they are not beings of magic, since magic tends to wreak havoc on technology. This means werewolves (and/or other shapeshifters), vampires (depending on the species), and other such worldly monsters of the flesh. Creatures from the Nevermore, including daemons, angels (or the combination of the two), and fae cannot be admitted because of their etherial nature and general cavalier attitude towards mortals. One cannot be expected to defend those they ultimately have no care for in the grand scheme.
You are to be a Valkyrie. The first and final safeguard of both the World-That-Is-Known and the Secret World. The bastion against which the unnatural storms of ages break. They are an organization with roots back to the dawn of civilization, when mortals finally stood a chance against those who haunt in the dark. Unlike their cross-bearing cousins, it is not the place of the Valkyries to terminate the supernatural wherever it may be found, nor is it their prerogative to use the Knowledge of Truth to turn a profit as the Illuminated Ones do. No, it is the tireless vigil of a Valkyrie to maintain balance between Man and Monster. They are the last remaining Vigil to do so, and are loathed by many for it. Uncompromising and incorruptible in their purpose, they stand armed against the march of ages and the rising tides that wish to consume them, and in turn, the World.
This is tale is what can be best surmised as a military urban fantasy. You will fill the shoes of a Valkyrie - a specially trained and outfitted individual, mortal or otherwise, who is trusted with keeping the World of Man and the World of Monsters from destroying one another. The keys to this balance are the Five Oracles. There are only ever five in the world at a time, and it is through them that the greatest threats to Creation can be fought. Not all oracles will be on the side of the Valkyries, though. In fact, they may only get one, if they are so lucky. Think of the Valkyries Vigil as a lone candle in the darkness, burning on both ends. They are ultimately alone in their fight. They may have their allies of convenience, but when the chips are down, you can only really trust the brothers and sisters who bear the Mark of the Vigil (as seen at the top of the page.)
Spoiler: Armory
As one may expect, The Valkyries employ a vast armory of modern and antique weaponry, as well as a large collection of relics, foci, and other occult paraphernalia. You would be hard-pressed to find any other organized task force using a medieval sword alongside a cutting edge assault rifle. There are, of course, limitations depending on scarcity/rarity of relics and just how much the Valkyries can afford.
Runic Rifling - In the past hundred years or so, gun barrels have been grooved in order to put an addition topspin on bullets, increasing their overall accuracy. In the Valkyries, their weapon smiths have mastered the art, inlaying minuscule rune scrawls into the barrel. As the weapon is fired, the runes are carved into the bullet as it passes through the barrel, effectively enchanting the bullet. The downside of this is, of course, that each enchanted bullet draws from the user’s Anima - their power source. It will ultimately tire the user out in quick order if used in too-quick of a succession. As such, Runic Rifling is not common on automatic weapons.
Engraving/Relic Modification - Aside from making one’s weapon look pretty, engraving the weapon or adorning it with some manner of relic will endow it with some kind of constant effect. This requires a large Anima draw when the modifications are made, though their payoff is often lesser than something that requires the allotment of Anima for each use. Bullets and blades can also be engraved or endowed with relic properties as they are made.
Military Modifications - What would be considered standard military upgrades and modifications to weapons, but with a slight flare for the supernatural. Iron core rounds, silver-plated grenades, UV flashlights, and so forth.
Foci - What many would consider a wizard’s tools of the trade. Foci are a means of channeling Anima into physical energy, often activated by a spoken word. While any magi can manifest the Anima without a foci, only the most disciplined can do so cleanly. The greater majority will have their spell fall out of control, or even backfire. Foci - staves, wands, rods, crystal balls, chains, essentially anything that can direct a magi’s power, are a way of directing and focusing their power.
These are simply examples. Feel free to take liberties so long as they are balanced.
Spoiler: Anima
Anima has many names through the ages and across cultural borders. Some call it Chi, others Spirit or Faith, and others still call it Magic. To put it simply, Anima is ones vital energy. The harmonization of their spiritual and physical resonances, creating what is an aura, or a soul. There are those in the world who can actively tap into their Anima and manifest its power in a multitude of ways. Some may conjure up a firestorm with their Anima, while another may use it to bolster their body to effectively become superhuman.
To tap into ones Anima is such a way is tiring, though practice and effort will increase ones threshold for continued use, just like exercising the body. Do so cautiously, though, for your Anima is your life-force. It is a spring that will refill over time, so long as it is not tapped dry. The fate of many untrained wizards has been the over-draw of power, their own spell killing them through sheer exertion. To have ones Anima extinguished is to have their soul destroyed.
Therefore, one can conclude that creatures of the undead and un-life do not have a source of Anima. They are essentially hollow husks, puppets on the strings of one with great power. There are certain arcane disciplines that allow one to draw - or feed - off of the Anima of others (some breeds of vampires are sustained as such) rather than simply using their own. Necromancers and Warlocks tend to use such tricks, and will often go mad in short order as a result. Anima is the soul of a person, all of their thoughts and memories and emotions. To tap into that is to see the life of another as you suck them dry, but through ones own perception. Soon, the Warlock will not know which memories are theirs, and often develop multiple personalities.
Beyond mortals, there are creatures that draw power from something different. Something not yet understood by the world at large. As far as the Vigils understand, some of these creatures lack true sentience and soul, yet they can harness magic in the same way channelers of Anima do. These are creature of the Nevermore, the Place-Between-Places.
Spoiler: Oracles
As stated in the preface, there are only ever five Oracles alive at one time in the world. As such, their roles in the story are very important, even exclusive. If you have any desire to play an Oracle, know that is will require lots of communication with me behind the scenes. Add-me-on-skype kind of collaboration. I will probably only allow one Oracle character in the roster, and that will go to whomever presents me the best Oracle sheet. Yes, it is an audition role, essentially.
Spoiler: The Rules
I am GM, I am the Law
Don’t be a dick to your fellow players, but feel free to have your character be a dick [within reason].
I reserve the right to accept or deny character sheets as I see fit. There is no cookie-cutter, here. Make characters you want to play, but also make characters other players want to interact with.
This is not a “three strikes” RP. This is a “I will tolerate (X)” RP. If you make a few mistakes here and there, fine. If you royally screw the pooch once, pack your bags.
Try and post often, but more than quantity I want quality.
All RPA Rules & Regs apply.
No godmodding, no railroading, no powerplaying.
I will not accept characters that have a high chance of exploitation. You are free to submit character attempts until I tell you to stop. Chances are if you aren’t accepted within the first 3 tries, you aren’t getting in anyways.
Spell/grammar check please.
I reserve the right to add/change/remove rules as I see fit.
Character death is a threat. I like to think of myself as a good writer, unlike a certain author, and character death will be a meaningful thing. Not a gimmick. Expect poor decisions to be met with like consequences.
If you have read all the rules and you agree to abide by them, write “Ia! Ia! Cthulhu fhtagn!” at the top of your character sheet.
Have fun, damn you!
Spoiler: Valkyrie Mission Files
Spoiler: Prologue
October 31st, 2001 - 11:50 PM local time
In a time-lost city of sandstone and ancient rites, a woman is held captive in a cyclopean temple beneath the shifting sands of Egypt. Heavy with child and in the throes of labor, she is guarded by dark-robed and red-masked cultists, clutching serpentine blades and automatic weapons. The woman, once a Valkyrie herself, is to be mother to the next Oracle.
The rest of the Valkyries strike like those possessed, not only for the life of their friend and comrade, but for the rare chance to have an Oracle delivered into their grasp. Outnumbered, outgunned, and fighting on the enemies favored ground, they fought for every inch in blood and fury. Many fell, but not vainly. The shuddering of drums echoed through the dusty catacombs, making the air itself tremble in a cold and remembered terror. Breaching the antechamber of the temple, the Valkyries broke the ritual rites of the cultists' high priests with the fury of the war gods themselves, spiriting their comrade her her unborn away in the night.
In the stifling night of Samhain, the mother passed into the Nevermore, giving the last of her Anima to bring the Oracle-child into the world. Carrying the child and her passed mother away from the cursed place, the Vigil of the Valkyries continued, their burden heavier than ever before.
Note: If you wish to make a character with more of a veteran position, I would ask your RP sample involve this scenario in some way. If you wish to make a 'greener' character, you would not be part of this prologue.
Spoiler: Chapter One - The Shadow of Polaris
In the black heart of the Atlantic, the cargo ship Polaris has gone dark. All signals have ceased, but their last transmissions were weighed heavy with white noise - the spectral whispers of the Anima making its impression on technology. Such whispers were heard by Kassandra as she wandered the World-Dream, and so terrible were the ghastly notes that the Oracle was ripped from her prophetic sleep in a cold sweat.
Such a harsh and acute reaction through the Nevermore was cause for extreme concern, so the Valkyries begin mobilization to intercept the Polaris before whatever horrors aboard make their way on land.
Spoiler: Character Skeleton
Name: What you call yourself, nicknames, and/or call-signs. If you don’t have a nickname or call-sign in mind, one will be appointed to you. Joke’s on you.
Gender: Boy? Girl? Something in-between or far apart?
[b]Race/Species:[b] If you’re not human, how evident is it?
[Age (Real and apparent, if applicable): Are you fifty and look fifty? Are you twenty and look ninety?
Appearance: Please only use a picture if you’ve got something that perfectly describes your character, or you’ve had art commissioned of them, or you’ve drawn them yourself. Otherwise, give me a good description.
Personality: Broad strokes is fine, I don’t need to know every bawdy joke they like to tell. This should not just be a list of character traits; tell me how they see the world, how they think, how they act.
Powers, Traits, and Abilities: Let this cover supernatural powers, mundane skills, and whether or not they’re particularly good at shooting snot-rockets. As above, this should not only be a bulleted list of specific powers. Enough specificity to give me the shape of their abilities is good, a spreadsheet is not.
Standard Loadout: While equipment will vary depending on mission and situational parameters, every member probably has a select few items that they have on them at all times. This should include ‘signature’ weapons and any talismans, relics, or misc foci.
Note: I will not put a set limit on what your character may carry, but it should make sense. I won’t stop you if you want to have a staff, assault rifle, shotgun, hand-cannon, blasting rod, hand grenades, and a baby stroller… but you are going to have to live with carrying all of those in the IC, and I will laugh as you flounder. PS - I probably will stop you if you carry that much shit all the time. Sorry.
Background: Take this opportunity to show me where your character came from, why they became a Valkyrie. This can be a biography, a short story, a comic strip, or whatever.
And if there are parts of your character’s backstory you want to expose through the game, that’s fine. Surprises are always fun for everyone. If you have some ‘under the table’ stuff you want to include, PM me so it can be incorporated, also so I know you aren’t planning on making the descendant of Dagon, or something.
RP Sample: Yeah, you know the drill. 1-3 paragraphs minimum of your character doing something.
Props to Naril for the basis of this Character Skeleton
Spoiler: StormWolf's Character and NPCs
Spoiler: Nathan Hayder
Name: Nathaniel “Norseman” Hayder
Gender: Male
Race/Species: Human, Anglo-Saxon Caucasian
Age: 36; and due to years of diligent maintenance, he keeps the visage of a man in his prime.
Spoiler: Appearance
Nathan is a firmly built man of notable height and formidable build. Standing at a solid six feet and weighing in at 185 pounds of steely sinew, he is something of an imposing figure. Fair, tattooed skin is stretched over imposing ridges of muscular physique, cutting the rigid silhouette of a powerful individual without making the man appear ape-ish. Nathan sports masculine jaw and firm, handsome, leonine features - a strong nose and olympian brow, appearing as a creature created and carved by one of the Greek classical masters. Settled into their sockets are eyes like chips of blue-grey ice; cold and severe in their gaze. Atop his head is a tightly cropped mane of sandy hair, shaved near the scalp at the back and sides, leaving enough at the top to style should the occasion arise. More often than not, Nathan will have a ‘three-to-five-day’ stubble on his jaw. Borne not out of a fashion standpoint, a neglect to regularly shave.
The Valkyrie Medics have estimated that roughly twenty-to-thirty percent of Nathan’s body is covered in scar tissue; old wounds inflicted by beast, blade, ballistics, and burns. It is a collection of badges of courage from his years among the Valkyries, and the Knights Templar before that. Where scars do not tread, tattoos are often scrawled, nordic and saxon in origin and design - wards against possession etched into his very flesh. To those with an inhuman sense of smell, or simply in an intimate proximity to the man, his is a hearty scent of a man well-traveled. He has a constant aroma of coffee, leather, cigar smoke, and Old Spice around him.
In his day to day, Nathan dresses himself as if constantly expecting to do some kind of strenuous activity. Always in his steel toed boots, he often wears boot cut jeans or cargo pants with a light long sleeve shirt or a button-down shirt with rolled sleeves. On occasion, he’ll wear his aged leather jacket. Nathan’s operational gear is what one would expect from a modern military operative - full tactical gear, including Crye BDU pants and the new Crye Hitcoat ballistic armor. What sets him apart is his tactical rigs are leather, rather than nylon and kydex.
Spoiler: Personality
Nathan is a man of firm temperament. Emotionally stable despite the horrors experienced in the day-to-day, he finds camaraderie with his fellow Valkyries, but remains withdrawn beyond their tightly knit brotherhood. He is not one to trust easily, and whether a genuine display of apathy or a coping mechanism for the job, he takes a casual and cavalier attitude towards violence and the grotesque. Despite his resilience, he is only a mortal man, and turns to the crutch of stiff drink when the burdens grow too heavy to bear.
Towards the Oracle-child, Nathan is protective in the extreme, and can often be blamed for any attempts to spoil the child rotten. He knows the burden of the Oracles, and that one never really has the opportunity to live a normal life. So to counter-balance the horrible visions and nightmares that plague the Oracles, Nathan seeks to provide some manner of childish joy for the Oracle while he can.
Spoiler: Powers, Traits, and Abilities
Marksman - Ever since his upbringing in the Knights Templar, he has always had a gun either in hand or within reach. At his current level of skill, Nathan can hit a target the size of a dinner plate at seventy yards with a black powder pistol. With a rifle, he can hit a target of the same size at around two hundred yards.
Gladiator - Lethal up close as he is from afar, Nathan is skilled in close-quarters combat with a mixture of martial arts, armed and unarmed. His choice weapons at the intimate range are knives and short swords. While he would prefer to not get in a position where he is left with just his fists, he is considerably lethal with them.
Tolerance - Nathan is naturally hard as nails, as it is just the nature of his life and job. He can withstand terrible beatings and pains of the physical and metaphysical realms. Despite being only human, he can resist the most mental and spiritual torment while still withstand most of the tortures human minds have conjured through history short of anything involving fire. This tolerance stems from no supernatural power or ability, just rigorous mental discipline.
Anima Aegis - Channeling his Anima through an enchanted arm ring, Nathan can manifest a shield of arcane power. While it can stop most kinetic impacts, it does no protect him from auxiliary effects like extreme heat or cold. Being a shield of energy, and therefore translucent, it cannot protect him from bright flashes of light, either. The shield’s diameter is sufficient to protect him from waist to neck.
Anima Adrenaline - Charging his very body with the power of his Anima, Nathan increases his reaction time and physical threshold, allowing him to be faster and stronger than he could ever be without such an ability. Anima Adrenaline dulls pain and clears his mind of distraction, but it does not make him any more resilient to trauma. Anima Adrenaline is the most taxing on his Anima reserves as well as his body. The ‘coming down’ from such a high will usually leave him with shaking hands for a time until he can gather himself.
Reiki - With a peaceful place to rest and meditate, Nathan uses the oriental healing art of Reiki, or “laying on hands.” Doing so is a long process, and cannot be done in the midst of combat. In 8-10 hours of uninterrupted Reiki, Nathan can advance healing by a week.
Spoiler: Standard Loadout
Spoiler: Weapons
Celtic Thunder - A Sig Sauer P220 chambered for .45 ACP rounds. The pistol is engraved with a flowing pattern of celtic knot work, enchanted to reduce the kickback. The extended magazine carries 15 rounds. Rather than runic rifling, Nathan has engraved his rounds with Sigils of Null. Should one of his bullets find their way into a being using magic, their spells will fizzle to a whimper of what they once were [unless that magi is prodigiously powerful]. Celtic Thunder is holstered under Nathan’s left armpit via a leather shoulder rig.
HK 416 - Though he only takes this weapon on full tactical operations, Nathan loves his HK. With a 10.5 inch barrel and quad rail system, the rifle is loaded with a holographic sight, magnifier scope, foregrip, and a UV combat light. The rifle hangs from a paracord yoke sling around his chest, and it has a suppressor as an option.
Vidrhrafn- Known in english as ‘Willow Raven’, this relic blade is one of three from the Sutton Hoo hoard that remained in perfect condition. The blade is a short sword, not even a full arm’s length. Its siblings cannot be found in any museum, as they all have bearers. Vidrhrafn, aside from being seemingly immune to the decay of time or use, has the capability of breaking through magical shields and other such Anima constructs. Practiced magi and Anima Spectres from the Nevermore can resist the blade by layering and bolstering their defenses. Being made of layer damask steel, the weapon is an effective tool against ghosts, Fae, and other Nevermore denizens. The sheath, and therefore the blade, are secured to his back via a leather bandolier, the sword’s grip protruding over his right shoulder.
Sawed-off 1887 Winchester Shotgun - Keeping Vidrhrafn company on his back is a sawed-off lever action shotgun, barrel for 10 gauge shells. The only thing Nathan has that is anything of an heirloom. The barrel is cropped as short as it can go, making it a great weapon for close quarters. The lever is pure iron, engraved with runes of Burning.
Spoiler: Talismans
Aegis Arm Band - An old norse torc of braided gold, engraved with runes of protection, serving as a foci for Nathan to make his Anima Aegis. The arm ring is clamped around left wrist. The greater the strain put on the Anime Aegis, the hotter the arm ring will get, to the point of Nathan’s left forearm bearing several burn scars.
Spoiler: Background
Nathan was born into a Vigil, though not one as progressively minded as the Valkyries. One of the less-secret Vigils, the Knights Templar served as the extended family of young Nathan Hayder. His upbringing was Spartan, to say the least, trained to fight the world of the Occult on all sides. To him, monsters were the face of the enemy, nothing but a cancer to be cut from the world in ensure the survival of the human race. It was in his first assignment at the age of seventeen that had Nathan and a squadron of fellow Templars raid a Werewolf den. Their task was simple - kill anything that moved. To a virginal combatant with delusions of combat, the horrors of the act he and his kin were to commit was lost until the shots started firing. The raid took place in the heart of autumn, when the Pack had just brought young into the world - the den effectively a nursery. Where Nathaniel’s Brothers and Sisters shot, chopped, and burned, the young squire was frozen with a soul-crushing horror. His belief, his spirituality, and his loyalty crushed under the boot heel of Templar brutality.
Upon returning to the Grand Temple, Nathan made plans to spirit himself away. Taking only the clothes on his back, his shotgun, and one of the Templar’s treasured relic swords out of spite, Nathan ran. He was almost on his own for a year before the Valkyries picked him up, a dirty and desperate vagabond with a very particular set of lethal skills. With their numbers light in that time, he was quickly accepted into their fold, proving to be a valuable asset, quickly finding his footing among them. With the Valkyries, he was not commanded to wantonly murder the the innocent - monster or not. He was a weapon with a just purpose, and against those deserving his learned wrath, they suffered it in full. In a few years, they were all as family. Such is the way of the Valkyries.
He was dear friends with Miranda, the would-be mother to the Oracle-child, and as such, he was one of the first into the fray to extract her from the Cult of the Red Masque. When she perished, he was wounded deeply. As part of his promise to Miranda, he took the Oracle-child under his care. Though being the ripe age of 22 at the time, he knew nothing about how to raise a child, so the Valkyries veteran members co-operated to ensure the Oracle was properly prepared when the time came.
Fourteen years later, Nathan is a well-oiled machine of occult warfare. His severity had been tempered by his role of guardianship over the Oracle-child, turning him away from brash decisions that he would have otherwise pursued.
Spoiler: RP Sample
If there was ever another reason to hate the sand, this night had given Nathan all the reasons he would ever require. Miranda had been taken right from under their noses on maternity leave. Her guard detail wiped out. It had all lead up to this moment - the eve of Samhain in some forgotten corner of Egypt, amongst partially unearthed ruins that predated any of the pyramids. Peering over a gargantuan slab of hieroglyph-carved limestone, Nathan surveyed the opposition. Clad in dark robes and sanguine masks, the Cultists of the Red Masque sported the usual go-to for the sandbox - AKs.
The past fifty hours of sleeplessness had Nathan in a wrathful mood, driven my desperation, more than anything. Nerve were tense, a twisting knot in place of his stomach. Easing back the bolt on his rifle, then letting it snap back, Nathan took a few preparatory breaths.
"On my mark," he said into his throat mic. "3... 2... 1. Engage." Rolling out of cover, Nathan snapped his sight up to the nearest hostile. Finger depressing on the trigger, three thunderclaps filled the air as hot lead spilled from the barrel to tear jagged holes in their ordained target. Before the first body even hit the ground, Nathan had zeroed in on the next scarlet-masked combatant, placing a round directly through the eye hole.
Blood spilled to the sands of Egypt, black in the muted light of the full moon. Shouts raised as the telltale rattle of Kalashnikov fire attempted to repay Nathan in kind. Ducking and diving for the nearest cover, Nathan pressed his back to a jagged and crumbling wall of limestone.
"Valkyrie-Two, this is Norseman. You are go for infiltration, over."
"Roger Norseman, Valkyrie-Two is bringing the thunder. Over and out."
The dune opposite Nathan's position came to lift with flickering lights, followed by the crackling of yet more gunfire. Rising to a knee and leaning around his cover, Nathan squeezed off a few more rounds, dropping two more cultists.
"Norseman, this is Valkyrie-Five. We have a man down and hostiles closing in. Over!" Peering over the rise of a slanted set of ruins, Nathan saw the murky shadow-shapes of his comrades, one of them slumped against a crumbling staircase.
"Ten-four, Valkyrie-Five. On the way." Nathan replied. Dropping his rifle to its sling, he drew out his pistol, slicking the safety off with a casual flexing of his thumb. Pulling a flash-bang from his flak vest, Nathan tossed the primed charge around the corner of his cover before readying his Aegis Ring. A flash and a deafening boom followed the four count of the fuse. That was Nathan's window.
Sprinting across the opening, Nathan channeled his Anima into the silver ring of metal around his wrist. A dome of faint blue light grew from Nathan's wrist. Sparks flew up from the shield's outfacing surface as oncoming bullets disintegrated against the crackling energy of his barrier. Flying across the sand at a dead sprint, firing off pot-shots at exposed enemies as he went, Nathan was easily violating several handfuls of military regulation. Then again, not many military regulations included having a shield of pure energy at ones wrist, or magic bullets.
Sullivan "Sage" Singer is a silver fox of a man, color long since fled from his hair and luscious mustache. His earthen-green eyes alight with intellect and humor, Sullivan takes a relaxed approach to most things. The older members of the Valkyries know the man very well, and they are right to fear him, for within him is the soul of a tiger. Ferocious and savage with a cunning, murderous intellect.
Sage is the current head of the Valkyries, the pinnacle of rank amongst their order, and rarely ever enters the field anymore due to the lingering pains of old wounds. He holds down the fort of the Valkyries' primary base, known as The Rampart. It is an old castle on the rocky coast of rural northern Scotland, a place he has turned into his private study of all things occult. The only way in or out of The Rampart is by helicopter, scaling the jagged cliffs, or brave the lethal bottleneck of the main road. The untamed wilderness around the Rampart for leagues is cluttered with landmines and lethal defensive Wards.
The Rampart is a sturdy and stubborn structure, of the strongest stones from Scotland's bosom upon the jagged cliffs. Originally constructed in the early 1700s, the Rampart has served as protector against many aggressors besides the bitter elements of the Highlands. The architecture is bold and opulent, its original owners apparently of great wealth and power, as well as a knowledge of the occult. The Rampart, aside from being in a prime defensive locale, happens to be situated directly in the path of a large Ley Line - one of the natural magical superhighways upon which the world's Anima travels.
The Rampart is built not only for comfort, but also defensibility. Thick walls have worn the weather of ages, as well as two world wars and several occult incursions that will never be known to the general public. In addition to the main building, the Rampart has secondary lodging - once the serfs quarters - for VIPs that wish to have their privacy. There is also a walled garden, sizable fountain with live fish, and additional auxiliary structures for general storage, though one has been re-fitted into a gym.
In the main hall of the Rampart, the Valkyries keep diligent watch over the Oracle - or at least as best as they can manage - while attending their day-to-day duties. All necessary accommodations are filled in earnest to the point of luxury. The primary tower is where Sullivan conducts his business, always in view of the sea, while keeping company to a private library with Lilith as the Lore Keeper. In addition, there is an expansive armory, laboratory, mechanic workshop, firing range, and garage all built into a subterranean complex.
The castle's lands are massive, surrounded by several leagues of untamed forest with a few small towns scattered within its domain. The villages are primarily farming villages that have provided for the Rampart since it rose, and continued to do so with freshly grown crops, free-range meats, and [most importantly] local microbrew beer. The villages surrounding the Rampart are all of a special stock, dedicated to the Rampart's lords for over 200 years. Sullivan Singer hosts a festival in the castle garden at each solstice to celebrate the season with the village folk, for the village folk.
The Devil's Due OOC/IC
Second Chances OOC/IC
A Steampunk RP [M] TheBarbarian/AngelWarrior OOC/IC
Legends :: The Beginning OOC/IC
Vampire: Winds of Change OOC/IC
The Beckoning Path [M] Caoimhe294 and TheBarbarian OOC/IC
The Valkyries: Occult Warfare OOC/IC
Name: Paladin Auriel of the Broken Cross
Nickname: Auri
Call-Sign: Darkwatch
Gender: Girl
Race/Species: Immortal Human
Age (Real and apparent, if applicable): 130 but looks 30.
Spoiler: Appearance
Auriel is as lithe as she is sturdy. 6' even and weighing in at a curvy 140 pounds. While she looks unsuspecting, some would even say a girl-next-door quality. They would find themselves on the receiving end of a tigress's wrath. Auri is the product of the most extensive military, private, and religious training the world has ever known.
She is extremely dangerous and this is reflected in the smirk of her full lips and the gleam of her cloudy gray eyes. Her face is triangular but not unpleasant to look at. For the sake of practicality her blond hair is kept shoulder length and for the sake of enjoyment is usually kept unbound. Despite her life as an immortal warrior of the Christian God, Auri's been lucky in the fact her face is completely free of scars while her body sports only a small few.
Now from the neck down her body is the fit limber frame of an acrobat combined with the quick reacting muscle of a martial artist.
Plump yet firm chest that leads very well into a toned tummy just short of having abs so as to not break up her feminine form, sadly a long jagged scar from her right breast to left hip does that for her. Her hips are on the wider side of narrow and wrapped in the same strong toned muscle that she wears around her stomach. Her arms, much like the rest of her are strong but don't lose their feminine appearance this is also where most of her scars are. Two thin pale scars go up her right arm from a Cockatrice's claws and she has large scars around her left arm from a Swamp Troll's teeth. The last scar is an old yet massive burn scar that monopolizes her right shoulder and upper back from a fire that she was caught in when she was younger. Her legs are like a cheetah's, long, slender, and capable of speed that can baffle most people.
When not on mission Auri's clothing is that of a young woman that finds herself blessed with a body and happy to dress in a way that shows it off. Form fitting t-shirts or blouses matched with a skirt or hip-hugging jeans, she either wears fashionable heels or boots when out and about. Every outfit is accented by a plain pure iron cross about her neck made with a nail from the Broken Cross.
When she is on mission though her clothing is that of an assassin which is befitting her Guardian Uriel, form fitting black and gray molted bodysuit made of Magic Resisting fabric blessed thrice over by the Grandmaster of the Order. While it can protect her from Low to Medium level magic attacks a strong enough one (like a Warlock using Star Magic) will overload it and only stop death for a short time and only slightly stops the pain of the attack. It's not the most effective against claws or teeth, but when combined with her own training can dance around and glance off melee attacks and things that bite.
Around her waist she wears a black belt with a bronze buckle adorned with a cross and the eight Archangels. All along the belt she carries the tools of her trade a pair of silver bullet spitting Colt mk4 pistols called Presence and Glory, a Silver dagger called Damnation, a Pure Iron dagger named Salvation. She also carries two extra pistol mags and six silver throwing daggers around her belt.
Auri's hands are quick and skillful and on her fingers are eight silver rings, each with a different Archangel on the stone, and each with a different power associated with them.
The powers of each ring are similar to power boosts more than persistent effects. She has many such rings, but these are the most common to see on her hands.
On her left pinkie is the Ring of Gabriel, it allowed her to make her sense of hearing more keen and gives her the ability to speak in languages she doesn't know.
On her right pinkie is the Ring of Raphael, this gives her a limited healing ability and can be used to comfort those in distress.
On her left ring finger is the Ring of Saraqael, it gives her the ability to see spirits and speak with them if she can see them before they pass over.
On her the right ring finger is the Ring of Ramiel, this ring gives her keener eyes and the ability to see through thin to medium thickness walls and floors.
On her left middle finger is the Ring of Raguel, this ring makes Auri more durable and sets her mind at ease with the knowledge of who does and doesn't transgress against God.
On her right middle finger is the ting of her namesake Archangel, the Ring of Uriel. As it is inappropriate to take the Angel's name as your own she chose one of his names for her's. This ring amplifies her pronounced stealth skills and increases her already keen speed and agility.
On her left index finger is the Ring of Michael, this ring gives her a one shot damaging attack against a foe's body. Similar to be attack by a large sword.
On her right index finger is the Ring of Samael, similar to the Ring of Michael this one gives a one shot damaging attack, only this one attacks the soul.
From head to toe Auriel is a shadow warrior for the Lord almighty and perfectly suited to striking right at the heart of evil.
She who takes joy in her life and pride in her work, is most pleasing in the eyes of the Lord
Personality: That phrase is what describes Auriel to the T. Many in her Order are known for their stoic faces, rigid bodies, and bottomless font of verbal filters. Auri has none of this, she's happy, she smiles and laughs, and tells you exactly what she thinks about you. This is a trait common amongst the Disciples of Uriel, being the Followers of God's own Rouge give them a skewed personality and they make jokes as much as kills.
Tempering her jovial personality is the unshakable faith to the Christian God and her duty as one of his Avengers. She never shirks her job and will be damned if she'll let some trigger happy heathen ruin her chances at doing her job by getting her trapped in a Succubi's Den because they forgot to unlock the back door. If you screw up be prepared for her to tell you so and possibly break something as a lesson.
While she cares not for the feelings of those that disagree with her, she was taught to keep her tongue in check when on mission. Nothing ruins unit cohesion like calling someone a "Sub-Human Abomination" over Comms. She was also taught that things in the Bible aren't quite the same as reality, God's Plan can never be spelled out in the hand of Man and be a true glimpse into the Lord's Master Intent. In the end Auri embraces the chaos of her Guardian and takes his teachings to heart.
Michael is God's Warrior, Raphael is God's Mage, and Uriel is God's Ninja. So I chose to follow the ninja.
This is Auri's favorite phrase when talking about her skills.
Powers, Traits, and Abilities: Immortality does not mean invincibility or omnipotence. It simply means ageless. As such Auri's supernatural abilities are limited, most of her skills comes from rigorous training and specially made tools.
Spoiler: Supernatural Abilities and Skills
Divinely Blessed: Granted the gift of immortality by the Christian God. Auri stopped aging at thirty when the Lord saved her from death after a life in a Brothel and Opium den, which gives her a boost against various kinds of magic. And while not at the levels of superhuman she has enhanced speed and stealth.
Magical Resistance: As expected she is immune to Black or Demon Magic and Spiritual Attacks. She is also resilient to attacks on her Mind.
Speed: Auriel can run at speeds that would put Olympic athletes to shame, but the speed varies with the amount of food she's eaten before hand. The amount of her speed is directly relative to the size of the meal she ate before the event in question. A big meal will give her the top rung of her speed and able to outrun some cars for a few minutes. A medium meal will let her run at pace with a horse or person on a bike for a few minutes. A small meal or snack will let her outrun and dodge around most people's attacks, but not able to outrun a trained Runner.
Stealth: Being a disciple of Uriel gives Auriel a power in the Archangels realm. The Shadows. She has good stealth skills normally, but with deep enough concentration and focusing of her Anima she can warp light around her and become nearly invisible, but much like her speed it has it's limits. She cannot move while the power is activated or the illusion is broken, and she can't hold it for longer than five minutes without burning herself out out.
Night Eyes: A power she developed while training in the Vatican. Her eyes were blessed by Uriel to be perfect for seeing in complete darkness, but it has also made them sensitive to bright lights and as such Auri needs to wear wrap around black goggles most of the time.
Rings of the Archangels:
The powers of each ring are similar to power boosts more than persistent effects. She has many such rings, but these are the most common to see on her hands. Each ring requires a draw on her Anima, but she has trained both herself and her Anima to absorb the drop and move on. Only one ring can be activated at a time though.
Ring of Gabriel: On her left pinkie, it allows her to make her sense of hearing more keen and gives her the ability to speak in languages she doesn't know.
Ring of Raphael: On her right pinkie, this gives her a limited healing ability and can be used to comfort those in distress.
Ring of Saraqael: On her left ring finger, it gives her the ability to see spirits and speak with them if she can see them before they pass over.
Ring of Ramiel: On her the right ring finger, this ring gives her keener eyes and the ability to see through thin to medium thickness walls and floors.
Ring of Raguel: On her left middle finger, this ring makes Auri more durable and sets her mind at ease with the knowledge of who does and doesn't transgress against God.
Ring of Uriel: On her right middle finger is the ring of her namesake Archangel Uriel. As it is inappropriate to take the Angel's name as your own, she chose one of his names for her's. This ring amplifies her pronounced stealth skills and increases her already keen speed and agility.
Ring of Michael: On her left index finger, this ring gives her a one shot damaging attack against a foe's body. Similar to be attack by a large sword.
Ring of Samael: On her right index finger, similar to the Ring of Michael this one gives a one shot damaging attack, only this one attacks the soul.
Spoiler: Normal Abilities and Skills
While her supernatural powers are small in number her physical ones are where the Paladin truly shines. Over a century of being trained by military, private, and religious organizations has given Auriel the set of skills needed to fight the Lord's Shadow War on evil and save the lives of millions. Ranging from fitness, to weaponry, to hand-to-hand, to Demonology, to technology. Auri can overcome and adapt to nearly any situation she finds herself in.
Spoiler: Fitness
Years of physical training and a rigorous daily fitness regime, has given Auri the body and physical capabilities of a skilled killer. Able to run for miles without getting tired and move like a ghost from the shadows, she uses her curves, brains, and speed to win where she might be out muscled or out toughed.
She is quick and deadly and looks great while she does it. This also gives her a keen skill at moving quietly and her acrobatic skills are on par with professional Gymnasts.
Spoiler: Melee
This is where Auri shines, while she can use guns with respectable skill, she much prefers the grace and art form of melee to shooting things. While she has a working knowledge of many of the world's weapon techniques she has created her own style that utilizes her speed and nimble hands.
1: Knives: Much preferred to swords and her usual go-to weapon. She is skilled with many kinds of knives and knife fighting styles. She usually carries a Blessed Silver dagger called Damnation and a Blessed Pure Iron dagger named Salvation.
2: Thrown weapons: Tied into her skill with knives is her great skill and accuracy at throwing weapons like knives, hatchets, spikes, stakes, darts, even javelins. While her throwing weapons don't have individual special names she calls them Bolts of Repentance. She is accurate with 50 yards of herself.
3: Swords: She is skilled with one-handed swords that are associated with Martial Arts from around the world. While not common tools, she sometimes carries a pair of blessed Silver plated steel Wakizashi named God's Light and the Flame of God.
Spoiler: Hand-to-Hand
Tying in with melee, Auri has focused her Martial Arts knowledge into the Art of Ninjutsu and Special Force Combative. She arbors fancy moves that waste energy and movement. She ends fights quick and holds nothing back, if she gets her hands on it expect it to be broken off and smashed against the side of your head as many times as it takes to make you stop fighting.
Spoiler: Guns
While the Paladin knows her guns and can use them if needed she prefers to only keep them around for emergencies or if a job requires a long distance kill.
1: Pistols: She is skilled with most kinds of pistols and can shoot well enough to not be laughed off a gun range she usually carries a pair of blessed silver bullet spitting Colt mk4 pistols called Presence and Glory.
2: Rifles: Like her pistol skill, Auriel's rifle skill is respectable but not preferred. Only carrying it for missions that require a long distance kill that she can't get close to. For this she uses a blessed Lee-Enfield 303 Rifle named Thunder that can fire silver bullets up to 550 yards.
3: Blow Dart guns: A unique skill amongst many of her peers. Auriel can construct and skillfully use blow dart guns, she even makes and poisons her own darts. And while the call for such a skill is low in this day and age she keeps up on as best as she can.
Spoiler: Demonology and Exorcism
Being a Paladin and Exorcist trained in Vatican City. Auriel's knowledge of the dark world is immense and meticulous. She knows every species that calls the world home and knows exactly how best to kill them.
While not a mage herself she knows much of the spells, charms, and curses that can be employed by her enemies. She enchants and blesses much of her own gear with these spells in mind.
Spoiler: Technology
Being a more modern Priest, Auriel is quite good with technology. She can operate most computers and even hack should the need arise. Using cameras, and breaking into security systems are also in her bag of tricks.
She's also a skilled driver of cars, trucks, and planes.
Spoiler: Misc. Skills
Like everyone, Auri has little hobbies and quirks she is decently good at. While not all of them are useful in her job, they keep her busy on down-time.
Cooking: Because of her constant need to eat, she is a fantastic cook. While she doesn't do huge day long meals, she can whip up a decent sized meal for herself in a few minutes, or for a small group in a slightly longer span of a few minutes.
Actual Priest: Along with her many combat skills and abilities tied in with Monster Hunting. Auri is a fully ordained Priest. This comes with all the duties and training needed for such an office, she can marry anyone, bless anyone, hold Mass, preside over Funerals, take and be trusted with Confession. While not in high demand in the Valkyries it can be done.
Singing and dancing: Being a Dance Hall girl before her immortality, Auriel is an accomplished dancer and wonderful singer.
Quick-witted and intelligent: Years of study at the Vatican and a naturally snappy nature have given her a high intellect and a whip-like wit. This is a Misc. skill that is very useful.
Street-Smarts: Tied into his quick wit and intelligence and born from her years living in the slums of Chicago have built Auri into a fort of trusting her gut and cleverness born from survival.
Standard Loadout: Being more built for Stealth and Assassination than front line fighting Auri's combat load is minimal. A few weapons and her Magic Resisting body suit along with her blacked out goggles. It can all change as she needs it to though.
Primary Weapons: Her daggers Salvation and Damnation are ever present and holstered in a custom sheath she keeps at the back of her belt. Along with her daggers she carries six Bolts of Repentance held in a pair of custom sheaths that she can carry either on her belt or attach another other part of her body for easy concealment.
Secondary Weapons: Her pistols Presence and Glory along with two extra mags with a third always loaded. She uses the Order's custom silver plated explosive rounds.
Other equipment: Carried in various pouches around her belt are charms, vials of poison, a small first aid kit, some matches, and a small cleaning kit and sharpening stone.
As needed equipment: When the situation calls for some of her other gear she adds them to her combat load. Thunder, God's Light, Flame of God, and her Blow Dart gun.
Spoiler: Background
Auriel's story begins long before the Valkyries were even founded. Born in the slums of 1885 Chicago to a battered Courtesan from the Vixen's Nest Brothel and the Boss of the town's biggest Opium Den, the Black Dragon. Young Auriel then named Emily was faced with the darkest wretches of humanity from the day she could crawl. Opium fiends, Crime Lords, Whores willing to please a horse if it would get them paid. For anyone on the outside it would look like a horrid living for any little girl, but to Emily it was all she knew and only thought about another life when she had managed to clean the day's "duty" from her body and crawl into her bed before dropping into a dreamless sleep.
Her family was wealthy and after she was born her mother stopped whoring, but old habits die hard and infect those around them. She had always been a pretty little girl, long blonde hair, heart-shaped face, and innocent gray eyes. When she was a baby they got her days of pleasant and comforting compliments, but as she aged and grew into her body as a young girl, the compliments turned into lewd gestures and heated whispers between her rump getting groped and her flat chest being rubbed. It felt wrong, but she didn't know any better and it soon became the only attention she got even from her parents.
The years passed on with the attention not getting much worse, that changed on her tenth birthday though. It was a very cruel trick to play on a child, but every year on the day of her birthday she was given the day off from dancing around in whatever half a dress the boss of her mother's Brothel put her in and fetching opium pipes and ashtrays for the drug addicts in her father's Black Dragon Opium Den. This day was the same and the young girl was excited to go to the park and see some of her friends all day maybe even play a little stick ball.
She practically jumped out of bed and into her clothes, she sped through her breakfast, not even noticing the bruise on her mother's face or that the flicker of hope the woman in her eyes every time she looked at the girl had gone out. Emily just wanted to get somewhere that didn't smell like lubricant and smoke. She finished her meal and kissed her mother good-bye before darting for the door, but she was stopped at the door by the boss of the Brothel.
All Emily remembered after that was looking back at her mom and seeing a single tear fall down her face.
The next time she opened her eyes she was in a world of pain and naked on one of the beds upstairs in the Brothel. The sheets under her were stained with blood and her hands were tied to the posts. Fear raked her entire body and her developing chest was heaving as tears poured from her eyes. She didn't know what was going on and she wanted to go home, her cries filled the room, but because of the way the brothel was built no one heard them outside her little room. Hours passed before she had cried all the tears she could muster, that is when the door opened and a skinny dirty looking man entered with a horrid grin on his face. This was the first day of the rest of Emily's mortal life.
Sometimes she cried, sometimes she fought, but most times she just laid there and waited for it to end. Eventually she stopped fighting and they untied her, then she stopped crying and they let her take a break, and soon she took part in the action and they let her leave the room. By the time she was sixteen Emily was the one of the most sought after girls and had a better life than she had as a child. At eighteen she was given the choice all working girls wish for, a way out. Her father had been killed many years ago after he tried to swindle a Chinese Crime Boss, and her mother had vanished shortly after the funeral. She had no where else to go nor did she know anyone else in Chicago. She chose to stay and unbeknownst to her it was the decision that would set her on the path towards being a Priest of the Broken Cross. From eighteen to twenty-nine she worked either dancing, singing, or "seeing clients". She was almost old enough to retire and even took over the brothel after the old Boss died from Syphilis.
She ran the brothel for a year before her past came to slap her in the face, the year was 1915 and things in Chicago were changing. All the various crime bosses were either uniting or being wiped out by the stronger groups, and the Vixen's Den was one of those organizations. They were on the list to be taken over by Viggo the Moor, she knew the man was as prone to burning places down he couldn't buy after locking everyone inside. So to save everyone she sold the brothel to him and went back to her role as a simple Madame.
It was rough, but they recovered, that was until Viggo tried selling an underage girl at the Vixen. Emily's early life came rushing back after years of repressing it, she saw her own trauma in that doe-eyed little girl's face. As the dark-skinned man was introducing the girl to her first client Emily came up and smashed him in the back of the head with the heavy candlestick and killed him. His goons were in shock, and that gave her enough time to get the little girl to safety out the door with hand full of money. That was all she could give the girl before her long hair was yanked back and she found herself on the receiving end of the enraged thugs of the late Viggo the Moor. She scrambled and kicked her way free and soon found her fellow Courtesans helping her.
They fought well, but eventually it spilled out into the street and a thug set fire to the Vixen in a final ditch effort. And it worked....for all but Emily, she had suffered a blow to the head and left for dead. As the building burned down around her, Emily remained oblivious lost in her injury. The flames lapped at her body and even caught her dress on fire and began burning across her back.
It was the purifying pain of the flames that actual work her from her stupor. With a scream of pain and a quick roll she ripped the top of her dress off and smothered the flames. The smoke burned her eyes and lungs, there was no way out. The roof had crumbled down in front of the doors and windows, the heat was nearly unbearable and the despair of her imminent doom weighed heavy on her mind. She had been raised Atheist, her parents dismissed all thoughts of religion because they never saw "God's Gift" plain as day before them. And if they couldn't see it, it didn't exist. This was all she knew and she believed it, but kneeling here at the gates of her mortality she found that small hint of hope her mother had so many years ago. She said a single rendition of the Lord's Prayer and welcomed whatever she would get just as she felt the bone-chilling cough of smoke inhalation overcome her and she slumped over to the floor. The life of a whore was never meant to be one that got you into heaven, Emily had read the Divine Comedy, at best she would get would be trudging along the summit of Purgatory and at worst sent straight to the second level of hell.
What she saw when she opened her eyes though was the realm of heaven and the Lord God seated on his throne before her. Still half nude and on her knees Emily quickly covered herself with her arms and bowed low to the Lord. God spoke without speaking, his words filling her mind without his lips moving.
"Repentress, you have endured a life no child should ever endure. And even after you chose to continue that life, you saved an innocent from suffering your same fate. And saying my prayer cemented your not quite dormant faith." The Lord waved his hand and the clouds formed a white shirt around Emily's naked torso.
"Now, I am in need of champions to protect all my children back on earth. The Faithful, the Doubters, and especially the unguided. You have a place in heaven whatever your decision, but I know you have the heart of a warrior and the soul of a protector. And I know you will do great as one of my champions. For each life you save you will make up for every sin of your past, and when the time comes you will be rewarded with the life you've always wanted. And your afterlife will be on here by my side."
Emily sat back and thought about the Lord's offer. She wanted the life every girl wanted, love, children, possibly grandchildren and to live out her days with the ones she loved. She could get the last one up here, but not the rest of it. She took the Lord's deal and she was sent back to her body and found herself bandaged and alive in a bed in the local Church with a very tall man with red glasses watching over her. He introduced himself as Bishop Akrasiel of the Broken Cross and explained every question she had before she even asked it.
The woman recovered from her injuries for a few months then joined Akrasiel on his journey back to the Vatican. Emily's training began the very next day and for the next five years she trained with the Warriors of the Broken Cross and became a disciple of Uriel, the shadow warriors of God's Earthly Avengers. And for the next hundred years she'd been fighting the darkness, following the Lord's Guidance everywhere it pointed her and fifteen years ago it guided her to the Valkyries. She knew he wanted her to join their ranks, but one does not simply walk out of the Order of the Broken Cross, she consulted Akra and he told her about the path of the Paladin.
They're the freelance members of the Broken Cross, normally Priests while able to help out other groups are never allowed to join their ranks, but Paladins are the exception, because the Lord's will cannot be bound to only helping those that follow the Broken Cross. And thus Auriel was promoted from Chancellor to Paladin and given leave to join the Valkyries which she quickly did and found herself quite at home with the Paramilitary group.
Spoiler: RP Sample
"All I'm saying is if your "God" existed and he really cared so much about us, why doesn't he just come down here and destroy all disease, all hunger, make everyone rich, and make it so no one can do bad?" This had been going on for well over an hour, and Paladin Auriel's not so legendary patience was wearing very thin. This was Brick and he was the sniper the woman had been paired with for the start of this mission. She was his spotter, and if she ever gets a hold of Sage she would have to drive the toe of her boot into his nuts and stomach for pairing her off with the biggest firebrand Atheist in the Valkyrie ranks. Maybe he wanted her to kill him and save him the paper work, the worst he could do is kick her off the team and she would go back to doing this job just minus the idiots.
The twit would never shut up unless she responded, but every response just got more bigotry.
"Because he gave us free will and very much like children, we learn best from our mistakes. If a parent did everything for a child, that child would be useless."
A few seconds of blissful silence passed as she watched the Cultists change the guard that had been watching over Miranda while they waited for her to give birth to the new Oracle. She and Brick the Twit here were part of the forward Force sent to gather intel and set the stage for the full scale assault. Too bad the silence wasn't meant to last.
"Sounds like a very shitty parent to sit by and watch as his children kill each other. One more thing if he loves us so much why are perfectly fine people like Maelyranon and James ostracized and treated like monsters for being a Hermaphrodite or Homosexual in your bible, but hateful close-minded assholes like Mason and Silvia are given everything simply because they're straight?"
Auri let out her millionth deep sigh and half wished she could kill in cold blood, but it was against her vows. As far as she knew neither God nor the Valkyries wanted this kid dead.
"Oh you mean the Confused Abomination that thinks every evil in the world is a joke and the former Drug-Addict that once sold his little brother to a Crack Dealer for a quick fix? Maybe they're treated like monsters because they are monsters. And as for that moronic Mexican and Lady Punch-first think-never, they aren't given anything for being straight they are given things because they don't know how to ask nicely and teaching them does nothing."
This gained another bout of silence, but this one was broken quicker than the last unfortunately.
"Sure the bigots are just not polite, but the minorities are the monsters sure. Sounds about right for Christian Logic. Now tell me this Ms. "Warrior of God". He didn't even try to hide his condescending tone. "Just because Lillith and Uta aren't fully human, your God says they have no soul and aren't welcomed into your Golden Kingdom? Why?"
Auriel ground her teeth as she memorized the guards' movements and counted down the time until the others got here and she could get away from this idiot.
"The Ice Brained little twig and the Tikiman knock off will gladly be welcomed into the Kingdom of Heaven if they accept the Lord as their Savior and repent for their sins, and everything living has a soul even if they refuse to acknowledge or save it. Now please shut up so I can memorize these guard movements in peace! Or I will knock you out and roll you into a pile of camel dung!"
As is the case with most idiot Atheists though, threaten them in person and they'll shut up. Sure it's a lose for the Religious folk by letting the idiots think that violence is the only way a Christian can win a fight with an Atheist. It came over the comms that the main group was here and moving into place. Soon Auriel could get away from this waste of life, and take out some of this annoyance on the Cultists. Then she wouldn't have to stay her hand in killing them.
Sadly though Brick didn't know when to stop. He scoffed and said the last thing he would say tonight.
"Pfft yea saved, just like Nate the drunk and Malcolm the Sociopath. Fuck your God, he's the shittiest parent around for letting shit like World War 2 and the whole prejudice thing exist and putting his "children" through it." That was it, with a soft growl Auri rolled to her side and brought the pummel of her dagger onto the back of Brick's head knocking him out.
"Yes even the slashed up Viking Wannabe and the Ignorant Nonbeliever can be saved if they accept the Lord into their hearts and repent for their sins." She left Brick there and kissed her ring of Uriel just as the signal came over the Comms to attack. Vanishing with the speed of a dust devil Auriel cleared the way for the Strike Team. Only slacking her speed a little she drove the razor like tips of her daggers directly in the hearts of the Cultist Sentries and hurled the Bolts of Redemption into the hearts of those guards that dotted around the compound. By the time the bulk of the gunfire had started Auriel had just dealt with the last outer Sentry. She was making her to the entrance when the sky opened up and an unnaturally cold rain began pouring over them turning the sand into mud and forcing the Shadow Warrior to duck prematurely in the the tomb's entrance to avoid getting wet and making her outfit squeak when she walked thus killing much of her stealth.
She heard over the Comm that the big ice newt decided to make it rain and cool things off.
"Friggin' Dragons." She growled over Comms before ducking into the tomb killing a couple of guards on her way in. Once inside she had to duck into the shadows and wait, as skilled as she was in killing in these narrow tunnels there wasn't a lot of room for movement and just going in blades swinging would get her killed. Removing her goggles and sheathing her daggers she waited just in the entrance for the breach team to enter.
A few seconds passed and she wasn't disappointed Nate came busting in guns barking and shield bracelet fired up. He tossed a Flash Bang and forced the Holy Warrior to cover her eyes and ears growling. The flash of light and boom passed, there was a slight ringing but the Disciple could still hear and see. Following the trail of carnage through the tomb, she killed those Nate didn't kill himself and soon found herself at his back. The man was in tunnel vision mode and Auriel knew better than to talk to him during this time.
She stayed at his back and used her daggers to keep the Cultists off it. The rest of the Strike Team arrived and broke through the Antechamber, what happened next is forever branded in the woman's mind, the heavy scent of incense, the screams of a pained woman in labor, and the chanting of the Cultists.
Gun fire barked with as much fury as the team felt, and the Cultists began to drop all around the tomb. The Ritual was broken, but death was the only option for these beasts, Auriel's blades gleamed and ripped through the clothing and skin of the Masques. She was the first to Miranda's side and held her hand as the effects of ritual left her.
"We got you Miranda, don't worry you'll be safe back home soon." The woman's face was red from exhaustion and the sand under her was stained with the preludes to birth. Auri had helped women in her Order through the birthing process, but this place was well under favorable conditions and aside from a canteen of water, her small medkit, and a wash cloth she used to wipe sweat off her face she had zip for supplies.
Miranda clung tightly to Auriel's hand her impressive strength amplified by the contractions, but Auri didn't show the pain as her hand popped from the pressure. Auri studied the woman closely a healthy complexion with a slight tan, emerald eyes and wavy hair like molten copper. Obviously once built like a professional athlete, though she bared the weight of motherhood in the appropriate places. She remembered the days of sparring back before the pregnancy, Miranda was a strong fighter and put up almost as good of a fight as Silvia.
As the expectant mom looked into the Paladin's eys and gave a half smile through the pain.
"I thought you Broken Cross types weren't allowed to lie?"
Auri chuckled listening to another Cultist die, they were too occupied with the gun toting SF guys to pay attention to the two women.
"We're not and I'm not, Nate's here and you know he won't let you stay here." She gave Miranda's hand a fond squeeze, and tried to smile for her. But the look in the other woman's eyes told the Paladin it was for naught. Some people know when their death was near and Auriel knew the look a mile away.
So what Miranda said next didn't surprise her in the least.
"Please Auriel, *ah....* I know I've never been the most religious type *ho ho*. And with all the stuff we've been through I'm not sure ho-ho-how! you mange it, but can you give me the Last Rites and....AHHHHH!" She didn't get a chance to finish before the last contraction rocked her body and with a final push the new Oracle was brought screaming into this dark world. Auri quickly took off her body suit coat and clipped the umbilical cord wrapping the baby in it before quickly handing her to the dying mother.
"Look Miranda! She's here and healthy!" Miranda cradled the little girl and smiled down at her kissing the child's head.
"Hey there little one, oh she's perfect." It was then the gunfire ended and those left on the Strike Team gathered around the pair. Nate dropped to Miranda's side his face red and sweat and a little splattered with blood. Auri was overjoyed, but also saw the strength leaving the young mother.
She reached down and helped the woman hold the child up.
"Careful there Miranda, can't drop her now."
Miranda gave her weakest smile yet.
"Thank you Auriel, please can you give me my final rites and bless my little Kassandra here?"
The Paladin nodded and blessed her canteen of water before pouring some into her cup. She removed her glove and dipped her finger into it. Kassie was blessed then handed to Nate who held her like she was made of glass trying to keep her from crying. The mother smiled at the man.
"Promise to take care of her Nate, now Auriel...please?"
The Priest nodded and chose her words quickly, Miranda wasn't any Christian denomination that Auriel knew, but asking a Christian Priest to give her, her last rites meant she could give her the general sacrament.
"Lord forgive this woman her trespasses and accept her into your kingdom of heaven. Bless her soul and welcome her with open arms. She has lived a good life in the service of others. I present her soul to you, in the name of the Father, Son, and the Holy Spirit, amen." She made the sign of the cross over Miranda just as the woman gave a smile of thanks and shut her eyes for the last time. The others had arrived just in time to hear the end of the prayer and word came down the line to return to base. Everyone but Nate moved, he was still holding the now sleeping child staring at Miranda's body as she was covered and made ready to be carried off. He gave a sound similar to a growl as they tried, but Auri's strong hand gripped his collar and hauled him up.
"Come on Blondie we gotta move. The Lord will take care of her soul in Heaven whilst we take care of her body here." With that she pushed the big man forward and they all left the tomb far behind them.
Last edited by SikstaSlathalin; 06-16-2015 at 01:44 AM.
Xbox One Gamertag: Free Today56 just say who you are first.
Breath deep as the snow falls around you. Let it fill your lungs and purify the fires of doubt within you.
I'd like to join. I'll work on a sheet later today/ after work/during my break. And I'll make an oracle sheet too cause I really really really love playing oracles *crosses fingers*
so, basically, pretty much anything goes for weapons within reason?
Like, I could have a high-caliber assault rifle with an under-slung crossbow/flamethrower/shotgun/grenade launcher, what have you?
- - - Updated - - -
not all at once, of course
Spoiler: Things I like
Spoiler: Quotes
I would rather have a russet coated Captain who knows what he fights for and loves what he knows, than he who calls himself a gentleman and is but little else
-Oliver Cromwell
War is an ugly thing, but not the ugliest of things. The decayed and degraded state of moral and patriotic feeling which thinks that nothing is worth war is much worse.
-John Stuart Mill
There is no instance of a nation benefiting from prolonged warfare.
-Sun Tzu
Ten soldiers wisely led will beat a hundred without a head.
-Euripides
It seems like such a terrible shame that innocent civilians have to get hurt in wars, otherwise combat would be such a wonderfully healthy way to rid the human race of unneeded trash.
-Fred Woodworth
It is our duty still to endeavor to avoid war; but if it shall actually take place, no matter by whom brought on, we must defend ourselves. If our house be on fire, without inquiring whether it was fired from within or without, we must try to extinguish it.
-Thomas Jefferson
If a man dedicates his life to good deeds and the welfare of others, he will die unthanked and unremembered. If he exercises his genius bringing misery and death to billions, his name will echo down through the millennia for a hundred lifetimes. Infamy is always more preferable to ignominy.
-Fabius Bile
Spoiler: Thoughts of the day
A broad mind lacks focus.
A questioning servant is more dangerous than an ignorant heretic
A small mind is easily filled with faith.
A warrior's faith in his commander is his best armour and his strongest weapon.
Adamantium walls and plasteel bulkheads may seem formidable, but an unshakable faith in the Immortal Emperor of Man can overcome any barriers.
An Empty Mind Is A Loyal Mind
An open mind is like a fortress with its gate unbarred and unguarded.
Better crippled in body than corrupt in mind.
Consider the Predator. Let your soul be armoured with Faith, driven on the tracks of Obedience which overcome all obstacles, and armed with the three great guns of Zeal, Duty and Purity.
Facts are chains that bind perception and fetter truth. For a man can remake the world if he has a dream and no facts to cloud his mind.
Faith without deeds is worthless.
Happiness is a delusion of the weak
Forgiveness is a sign of weakness.
He who lives for nothing is nothing. He who dies for the Emperor is a hero.
If a man dies that another should live, that man's spirit shall eat at the Emperor's table
Innocence proves nothing
It is better to die for the Emperor than to live for yourself.
Leniency is a sign of weakness!
Mercy is a sign of weakness.
No man that died in the Emperor's service died in vain.
Nobody is innocent, there are merely varying levels of guilt.
Only in death does duty end.
Only the insane have strength enough to prosper. Only those who prosper may truly judge what is sane.
Pain is an illusion of the senses, despair an illusion of the mind
Purge those who are unclean.
Sometimes the good must perish so that the rest survive. The lot of courage is to be sacrificed upon the altar of battle.
Survival is no birthright, but a prize wrested from an uncaring galaxy by forgotten heroes.
The common man is like a worm in the gut of a corpse, trapped inside a prison of cold flesh, helpless and uncaring, unaware even of the inevitability of its own doom.
The Emperor will not judge you by your medals and diplomas but by your scars.
Though silver in your palms weighs light
Compared to death by blast and sword,
Do not shy the hopeless fight,
For endeavour is its own reward.
[b]Race/Species:[b] Werewolf; except for his eyes he appears as an extremely fit human.
Age:
Real: 92
Apparent: 27
Appearance:
Human: Ken is a wall of yellow skinned muscle that stands a little over five feet eight inches. He keeps his head shaved, though has been known to let the raven colored hair grow to about a quarter inch in length. His bushy oft angled eyebrows give his golden hued eyes a sunken look. Ken keeps most of his upper lip shaved bare. Long mustaches grow from above the corner of his mouth, hanging to about an inch below his chin. From his chin hangs two inches of braided beard. His left eyebrow has a white stripe, a quarter inch in width, half way through it. Beneath it hides a scar from his youth. His typical attire outside of combat is tee or muscle shirt, a pair of cargo pants and his combat boots.
Hybrid form: In this form Ken towers at eight and a half feet. His limbs and the trunk of his body lengthen, taking on lupine characteristics. The color of his fur matches that of his hair in human form. His elongated canine head bears the same white stripe above the left eye. His fingernails and teeth extend into lethal weapons. reference image
Wolf form: Ken is indistinguishable from a large grey wolf in this form.
Personality: Ken's typically stoic expression hides a boisterous, fun loving, intelligent mind. Ken's always ready to drop a few (hundred) dollars at the local bar with friends and comrades. Nor is he above pulling the occasional prank on those same people.
But woe be upon him who raises this werewolf's ire. Ken is not the forgiving sort, he's perfectly fine carrying a grudge for someone who has offered actual insult or harm. When his duty allows, nothing would stop him from pursuing his vengeance.
Powers, Traits, and Abilities:
Traditionally Trained: The Chinua-Borjigin clan maintain the ancient traditions of the Mongolian people. Ken was trained in the art of archery and horsemanship, as well as in the use of the sword.
Modern Warfare: After finishing his training with his clan, and experiencing his first transformation Ken was employed by the local vigil where he received training with modern arms and armor.
Heightened senses: Even in his human form Ken has the olfactory and hearing senses equivalent to a wolf. He can even see (Albeit not in color) in low light, as well as he could mid day.
Accelerated healing: Ken begins healing from all mundane wounds almost immediately. Woulds caused from magic heal at a slightly slower rate and those caused by silver heal at what most humans would consider normal speeds.
Enhanced speed and strength: As a werewolf Ken is naturally faster and stronger then he was as a human. His enhanced strength and speed are gifts that bleed over from the monstrous power of his hybrid form. Ken at full speed can run up to 40 mph and can lift up to a thousand pounds.
Shape shifting: As a werewolf Ken has the ability to shift between three forms. Of his three forms his Hybrid form drains his anima to a point of exhaustion. At which point his body will attempt to regress to his human form. With great effort Ken can hold the hybrid form, but will require an extended rest. The transformation to wolf will drain a large portion of his Anima, but holding the form will not.
Standard Loadout:
Armor: Ken wears a specially designed set of Level III Dragonskin armor. The armor is designed to easily come off should he have to alter his shape.
Weapons:
Spoiler: Turco-Mongol Sabre
Ken wears his great grandfathers Turco-Mongol sabre, it was given to him when he left the clan. The Turko-Mongol saber has a long, curved blade with a single cutting edge.
Spoiler: Mongol bow
As part of his training Ken learned how to make a traditional mongol bow. After leaving the clan he made another using parts and techniques available only through modern technology. The Mongol bow is a recurved composite bow, and ken uses it with deadly efficiency when stealth is required on his part.
Spoiler: rune rifiled Barrett XM109
The Barrett XM109 is a prototype anti-materiel rifle and grenade launcher. Each shot inscribes the bullet with a number of holy emblems. Ken carries this weapon when he is assigned to overwatch, or when intel provides information that high level threats would be present in the operation area.
Spoiler: Barrett M468
This is Ken's primary firearm, in assault situations. The Barrett M468 is a variant of the M4 Carbine, rechambered for a heavier and larger 6.8mm bullet for increased terminal performance.
Spoiler: Beretta M9
This is Ken's secondary firearm for assault. The Beretta M9, officially the Pistol, Semiautomatic, 9mm, M9, is a 9×19mm Parabellum pistol adopted by the United States Armed Forces
Background: Genghis Khan claimed that he was the son of a wolf. During his life the great emperor ever allowed anyone to paint his portrait, sculpt his image or engrave his likeness on a coin, so no one actually knows what he really looked like. Additionally no one knows how he died or where he is buried, well almost no one; The vigils know.
The Chinua-Borjigin clan is an off shoot of the Borjigin clan, the clan of the great Khan. And while Temujin never turned, a few of his siblings did. They took oaths to protect the emperors people. An oath they continue to uphold till today by working with the vigils.
Khoonbish was born with the potential to become a werewolf. Thus he was trained in the traditions of his ancestors. After the completion of his training, Ken's life seemed to lead him down a somewhat normal path. Then fate intervened and shortly after his twenty-seventh birthday Khoonbish lived up to his name, and became something that was not a human.
After receiving training on controlling his new found abilities Ken joined the Vigil his clan was a part of as a guardian. He was then trained in modern weaponry. While he worked under the jurisdiction of the vigil Ken encountered and occasionally worked alongside the Valkyries. He earned their respect and was eventually recruited to join their ranks.
Spoiler: RP Sample:
Khoonbish walked the halls of the great tomb of Burkhan Khaldun wiping the blood from his eye. This sparring match with his cousin was more brutal then those before. Khoonbish didn't understand why his cousin was more aggressive then in previous bouts. Nor did he understand why there were more trainers keeping a closer eye on the contest. Giving his cousins aggressive behavior however, Khoonbish was pleased to have left the ring with only a split eyebrow.
As he approached his room he thought back to the last time he slept under the open sky. Khoonbish remembered it as being cooler on the plains. Slipping into his room he reached out and toggled the door lock. His exercises were finished for the day, he would not be leaving his room again til morning.
The young man stopped in front of the chipped mirror in his room, leaning towards it he studied the stitches in his eyebrow. A shame his first scar would be hidden under the hair he thought to himself, before wondering again at the heat in the normally cool chamber. Khoombish poured himself a glass of water and drank it thirstily.
Taking the ewer in both hands he raised it to his lips and began to chug the water. Khoombish didn't even hear the crash as the pottery slipped from his hands. Pain had erased all his sense. Clutching at his side, Khoombish could feel the heat flowing off his body. I've been poisoned raced through his mind as he was again racked with incredible pain.
His cry of anguish echoed back at him in the tiny room. Khoombish felt as though his flesh was on fire. Felt as though his muscles were being stretched and twisted. Just as he felt he could take no more pain it worsened. As a horrifying cracking sound filled the air Khoombish felt every bone in his body explode.
The Mongolian lay on the floor writhing in pain. The screams of the damned filled his room as his body elongated. As the minutes passed, the screams of anguish turned into guttural growls and finally an ear piercing howl. The creature clambered to its feet and howled again.
In the tortured remnants of Khoonbish's mind, he realized what he was. However he was overwhelmed by anger. An anger that lead to destruction.
Khoonbish regained control of his body, and his consciousness hours later. The destruction that met his eyes gave life to the nightmare. The sound of the warped door unlocking drew Khoonbish back from the pit of shock he had stood on the edge of. The werewolf's eyes rose to the face of the elder standing in the door frame. "Come pup," The elder said, "Time to renew your training."
Last edited by Dnafein; 03-09-2015 at 07:27 PM.
Spoiler: Cuteness
Wanna laugh at a drunken fool? Click Here!
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"You basically got a wizard who uses scribbles to fight, a horny tattooed man who crawled out of a hole in the ground, a literal Viking that has no concept for sublty, a girl who's only qualification being a plot twist from a shamalan movie, female Mowgli and a 13 year old boy."
"Don't forget Connor."
"And then there's that fuck!"
"You forgot the werewolf and Yakuza assassin."
"Oh you mean the Eastern Scooby Doo and the video game mafia remake? Lord knows how those two haven't killed each other yet."
"Hey, they get the missions done."
"That's the worst part! Your team is one flamboyant clown away from a Saturday morning cartoon, and yet you work! How!"
"Magic"
Given by Rho Aias
"I have this inkling of a feeling that writing with you would be similar to turning into a poptart and running across space while shooting rainbows out backwards."
Zimpie:
"You just killed logic"
The Valkyries: Occult Warfare OOC [M]
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