[R/M] Valkyries: Occult Warfare OOC

[StormWolf]

This story 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!

IC THREAD

D.O.G.S.
The Division of Occult Global Security


__________________
Task Force: Valkyrie


“The oldest and strongest emotion of mankind is fear, and the oldest and strongest kind of fear is fear of the unknown"
Howard Phillips Lovecraft

The World as we know it – our History – is incomplete. The true picture has been cropped and cut to best protect the feeble minds of the mundane, sheltering them from the cold, dark, and malicious things that twist and constrict at the edges of their perception. Why do you think we mortals have an unexplained 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 crawls and slithers its way ever closer. Every creature that used to squat in the mud, grow in the night, and yet answers to Death’s Toll see themselves as the pinnacle of evolution, parading themselves as the chosen of their one-and-only god, the chosen of Gaia, or some other such delusion of grandeur. Humans, Vampires, Shape-changers, even the ageless Sidhe fall into such trappings. It is the feeble defense of a mewling child before the eternal and inconceivable vastness of the Outer Darkness. But not all is lost.

There have been those who stood valiantly 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. A cosmic force binding everything together, a balance of karma; Light and Dark, Creation and Void . Whenever the Balance tips, reality heaves. Fire falls from the skies, rivers run with blood, floods consume the planet, and plagues return entire Empires to dust. The vigil kept by these fiery spirits is thankless and will at times fail, but without them, the world would be a dark and primordial hell. The greater 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 Vigil is a mere calling – a shimmering blade in need of 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 through their works. 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 cosmic 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 psychically sensitive. They will begin experiencing the World-Dream and expressing psycho-kinetic abilities as soon as their mind has matured enough to process such information; usually between █-█ years of age, depending on the stage of mental and physical maturation.

Initiate the Secret Histories

In times we call ancient, something almost went horribly wrong. Those who sleep gigantically nearly woke, what with all our buzzing in their ears. Our meager wars over their ruinous scraps; countless lives lost over relic foci, oceans of blood watering the soil of potent nexi worldwide. In the wake of the worst of these wars, the great cabals and societies of the world met under a singular roof to discuss the future.

Venice – 13th Century

Delegates of each society came together to write out a series of laws to govern the supernatural world. Every delegate has a say, though the weight of their influence is proportionate to the societies’ size and importance. They go by many names, but all mean the same thing. Revelation Accords, Armageddon Proclamation, the King James Protocols: such laws are in place to prevent The End.

***

It began in 1865, when a hastily organized unit of government men failed to rescue Abraham Lincoln from the clutches of a creature from outside any human frame of reference. Realizing that for the good of the Union, they had to cover up the President's death, they enlisted a look-alike, and without the hapless man's knowledge, hired John Wilkes Booth to follow him to the theater and do the deed before anyone noticed the difference. Ever since then, they've been protecting the US against supernatural agencies and hiding the evidence. They've always operated outside the usual structures of the US government.

In 1927, They conducted raids on a number of coastal towns in █████████████. The towns no longer exist, their populations and records erased. The raids exposed previously unknown depths of horror to a select few. Nations that had not yet existed at the time of the King James Protocols found themselves facing down the barrel of a gun. █████████ revealed that everything humanity had wrought in twenty shallow centuries meant nothing in the face of inhuman energies from beyond. This secret hovered at the periphery of organized government, too horrible to fit into the world-view of the time, and too unwieldy to manage.

For years, it existed only in secret files; bland photographs of impossible creatures and matter-of-fact reports of the █████████ ████████. The truth sank like a stone into the basement filing rooms of various agencies, covered up and forgotten.

In the wake of the █████████ incident, the Division of Occult Global Security saw its official inclusion as a defunct branch of the Office of Strategic Services - a place to send problem agents and cold cases to fade into obscurity.

***

In 1935, during the rise of the National Socialist Party in Germany, some of the strongest occult societies in the world were brought under the rule of Heinrich Himmler. The Thule Cabal, the Ahnenerbe, Schwarze Sonne, and the newly founded ██████████ all lent their services to the Nazi party and in turn were provided with resources they needed to further their cause. Their mission was to trace occultism to its pre-human roots through any means, leading them to weaponize the information gleaned from █████████, ██████, ██████████ archives, and ███ ██████ ██ ███ ███ ███. They believed that peace could only be achieved by the eradication of the Twilight, the Astral Plane. So obsessed with their cause, they delved into the Black Arts, forbidden by the Laws of the Accords, and as a result spurred one of the bloodiest conflicts in human history.

The signers of the King James Protocols met in secret, agreeing that by the Laws, the machinations of the Nazi occult were to be ostracized and outcast, their names stricken from all records. They were labeled as traitors to the cause and a threat to all life and reality itself. As such, the Division of Occult Global Security was made its own branch, an international, private organization made in the exact antithesis to the Nazi Occult. Their elite task force Valkyrie was formed. From all across the world, from many secret societies, covens, and other Cabals, one member and a percentage of defense funding was to be offered to the Division. They would be entrusted with the means and authority to hunt the and any threat that strays from threatens life and reality the way the Thule society and their allies did. 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.

The Division of Occult Global Security deployed numerous task forces to counter the expeditions of ██████████ and their terrible experiments with black magic bio-occult research, and Thaumatechnology. The first time these two forces clashed was in Vienna, where the German Occultists were attempting to uncover the secrets of ████████ and the exotic matter of ████. They would clash again in Rome, Tibet, Africa, and various other locations across the world fabled for their natural draw of supernatural power. While the Second World War raged, the ██████████ and the D.O.G.S. 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 Shadow War.

As World War II came to a close, the Nazi Occult scattered, going underground and assumed destroyed before the Axis collapsed completely under the crippling weight of the Allies. With the Reich defeated, the Division had one grim duty left in order to maintain the Balance. While mostly unsuccessful, the ██████████ 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, D.O.G.S. remained the iron fist of the Accords, making sure that much is dead may eternal lie, and that strange aeons are kept at bay. A sword and shield both, the Division of Occult Global Security protects all life, mundane and magical. Rabid vampires and overzealous hunters both fall under their jurisdiction, the territories nearest their strongholds often serving as reservations for endangered and displaced extra-normal entities.

Division operatives are usually humans of either great skill, grit, or with some manner of extra-normal abilities. Occasionally, non-human creatures can be brought on board as a member so long as they are not beings of pure 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 Twilight, including daemons, angels (or the abominable combination of the two), and fae cannot be admitted because of their ethereal 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 an operative of the Divisions elite task force, 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. Their prerogative isn’t to use the Knowledge of Truth to turn a profit as the ██████████, nor do they seek to open the eyes of the World to that which goes bump in the night. No, it is the tireless vigil of a Valkyrie to maintain balance between Man and Monster, to keep the eyes of the world closed to the shadows that lurk within shadows so that the nightmare may pass. They are the last remaining Cabal 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 Eldritch Truth. The keys to maintaining order 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. While they may have their allies of convenience, when the chips are down, you can only really trust the brothers and sisters who bear the Mark of the Valkyries (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.

Alchemy: Since 1942, when the Division doubled down on their military operations, they extradited several alchemical specialists from Africa, Libya, Arabia, and later China and Japan. Since then, alchemical reagents like elixirs, potions, salves, and other extra-normal assets have been adapted into the field to give human agents an additional edge.

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.

Etheric Rounds: Division-standard ammunition that has been bombarded with a robust spectrum of high-energy particles that infuse the lead (though silver yields better results) with peculiar pseudo-physical properties. These rounds emit a faint, radial blue light. When fired, they flare blue, akin to tracers to the naked eye, but exist on both the material and astral plane. In short, they can effectively harm semi-corporeal beings like manifested ghosts, spirits, and demons. The preparation of this specialty ammunition requires a significant investment of time and money, and is not requisitioned lightly.

Etheric Goggles: Identical in function to night-vision or thermal goggles, these goggles allow those without the innate ability to see astral forces to perceive them through these etheric-sensitive optics.

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.

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/Arcane into physical energy, often activated by a spoken word. While any magi can manifest the Anima or Arcane 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 Anima.

These are simply examples. Feel free to take liberties so long as they are balanced.

Spoiler: Cosmic Forces 

There are forces in creation that predate light and gravity, binding all that was made in the First Age together in the life-stream of magic. With the progression of the Ages, the primordial magic developed as life changed across the planes of reality. Reaching arms of the “World Tree” - called ley lines in the crude spoken languages of this aeon, bind the unfathomable fragments of uncounted realities together.

Anima

Anima has many names through the ages and across cultural borders. Some call it Chi, others Spirit, Faith, Mana, and even Devilry. To put it simply, Anima is one’s vital energy – the power of the life given metaphysical form. The harmonization of the spiritual and physical resonances with that of the cosmos, creating what is a potent, malleable aura. 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, others may use it to shift from woman to wolf, while another may use it to bolster their body to effectively become superhuman. Whispers say that there are some who can tap into the Anima of the world, even the vastness of the cosmos, but such power requires skill, and there may be fewer than twenty of such practitioners between all the realities found within the World Tree’s reach.

To tap into one’s Anima is such a way is tiring, though practice and effort will increase one’s 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 practitioners has been the overdraw of power, their own spell killing them through sheer exertion. To have one’s 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 given quantifiable form. To tap into that is to see the life of another as you suck them dry, but through one’s own perception. Soon, the Warlock will not know which memories are theirs, and often develop multiple personalities.

Spoiler: That Which Goes Bump in the Night 

Over the march of centuries, those that combat the darkness or maintain the Balance have developed a way of categorizing opponents, known and mysterious. As sciences advanced and intellectuals were brought into the fold of the various Cabals, there exists a completely valid branch of cryptozoology.

D.O.G.S. Codex

Code: Mike
Humans desperately seek the monsters among them, either literally or figuratively. Ironically, of all the monsters that call the Earth their home – most doing so since before Earth had such a name – none have done the planet such widespread harm as humans. Despite what some may have you think, Adolf Hitler was a human being, not some reptilian from the Core. Bin Ladin was a man under the influence of no greater demon than his own delusions and ambitions. Because of this, Hominids are listed in the Valkyrie Codex, taking into account the great diversity of human physiology and psychology, and how drastically one or both can change under the influences of the supernatural. To put in plainly, a Hominid is any threat that is of human origin to the Balance.

When facing a Code: Mike, many organizations approach the situation with amateur cavalier, leading to unmarked graves and empty chairs at empty tables. By its nature, a Code: Mike implies that the threat is something more to warrant calling in a strike team. Cultists performing a blood rite, necromancy, occupation of a ley line convergence, and possession of a dangerous relic all fall under a Code: Mike operation.

Code: Foxtrot
Called “creatures of the night” by the dramatic, despite few of them being exclusively nocturnal, Cryptids are animals that have existed in folklore and mythology, but never been concretely proven. Not all cryptids are innately magical, but they have something about them that sets them apart from the standard flora and fauna of the Known World.

Being such a broad spectrum, Code: Foxtrot requires knowing what you are hunting to avoid becoming the hunted. Being creatures that have avoided concrete discovery in the modern world, cryptids have a high tolerance to many common toxins and poisons, and are often of a greater constitution than other animals of their size.

Code: Echo
Extra-normal entities. ENEs (ennies). Beings of legend and myth that are deserving of the fear and reverence they were paid in bygone times, anthrocryptids are the creatures that the limelight so dearly loves: vampire, werewolf, wendigo, sasquatch and so on. What separates a cryptid from a anthrocryptid falls to cognitive thought and magical origin. On average, anthrocryptids are as smart as humans and can blend into human environments easily. Some, like the infamous bigfoot, cling close to their ancestral breeding grounds despite human expansion, but make themselves extremely difficult to seek out.

Code: Echo incidents require much planning and preparation if time permits. Depending on the creature, they may have only particular (meta)physical weaknesses. Bring a big gun with the wrong ammunition, you may as well have brought a little-league nerf bat. Marking the midway point between cryptids and hominids, anthrocryptids are considered high-threat when on the opposing side. Not only do they possess intelligent, sentient thought, but anthrocryptids also have a wide repertoire of physiological and magical boons, depending on the species.

Code: Twilight
When a being dies, it’s Anima leaves an imprint on the physical and metaphysical fabric of our reality. This phantasm is an echo of what the person was and reflects how they died. A sweet old woman who passed away in her sleep will leave a minuscule imprint, able to be touched by those she knew through ritual or prayer, but sometimes not even able to respond. Should a bitter young man be run down and lynched for being different, that can result in something far different. Far more dangerous.

Little is known of Phantasms, as much of their being revolves around the greatest mystery to mortals: death. Scholars on the ethereal, including ectomancers and demonologists, have theory and formulae. However, if you ask ten different mediums how best to deal with a phantom, you will get ten different answers… none of which may work, because of the phantom’s nature. Some particularly powerful Anima imprints or true crimes against humanity can spawn spectres of legend. The Revenant, Banshee, and Poltergeist are prime examples of a “phantasmic apex predator”.

Coke: Roanoke
A moniker for haunted, unholy, and otherwise supernaturally malicious locations. Such locales are often located along a particularly powerful ley line, or even in a ley line nexus. The more power flowing through a ley line, the thinner the veil is between cosmic planes. Depending on which plane(s) seep through, it will have all manner of unpredictable effects on the location.

Code: Umbra
In reference to the Umbral Realms, a Code: Umbra usually means one thing: a planar incursion. ENEs that are inherently non-native to our dimension. Fae creatures and demons are common instances of Code: Umbra, the former warranting investigation and non-violent contact first, unless otherwise instructed. Some Fae have been stepping back and forth between worlds for aeons.

Demons and other outside entities are inherently hostile, the proverbial fox in the human hen house. Demonic incursions, possessions, integration, and manifestations are to be dealt with quickly and thoroughly.

Code: Thule
Penned in World War 2 due to the Thule Society's ██████████ group and their penchant for "military-grade necromancy". Code: Thule is to be immediately reported once undead levels number greater than a dozen in a populated area. The Division of Occult Global Security had Code: Thule serve as a baseline for the Pentagon's CONOP 8888, which has then inspired changed and upgrades in the Division's responses to instances of Code: Thule.

Code: Xavier
There are certain compounds and practices that result in a violent bio-occult response. Code: Xavier protocols deal with the resulting mutative effects, usually in the forms of containment and study, and termination if necessary.

Code: Omega I-V
CLASSIFIED, pending appropriate clearance levels.

Spoiler: Oracles 

Classified as Omega-I. 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. 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.
The Oracle the Division have on-site is a child between █ and ██ years old, already displaying psionic aptitude

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/player 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.
Spell/grammar check please.
I reserve the right to add/change/remove rules as I see fit.
Character death/insanity is a real threat, but you’ll know when/if it comes. Poor decisions will become the bed you’ll need to sleep in. Character death is not a gimmick.
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.
Cultural Authenticity - Racist and/or prejudiced characters are fine. However, we can all agree that such a character trait is, indeed, a flaw, and should be actively portrayed as such. Even if your character hates a people of some denomination, they deserve as an authentic a representation as anyone. If anything, that will give weight to your character's predisposition towards said people. However, actively malicious third-person omnipotent narrative voice as distasteful soapbox is not something I will abide. Don't get me wrong, ancient cultures have been all but ruined by the internet. If you get details wrong or confused because of sources, that is completely different than "I shot the hunga-bunga jungle-dwellers."
Have fun, damn you!

Spoiler: Valkyrie Mission Files 

Spoiler: Chapter I – The Big Sky Scare 

October 21, 2019

A ghost popped up on the Division's radar. A field team that had long since gone dark, assumed killed in action or gone AWOL, sent a communique to one of the Division's public internet dead-drop proxies. It was brief, cryptic, and dire. The first communication in six months to Division Headquarters MW-003 (aka The Ranch), MW-003 leadership requested immediate deployment of a Tier 1 Task Force, as per the desperate insistence of the dead-drop.

Spoiler: Character Skeleton 

Name: What is your True Name?

Alias/Callsign: Your radio handle? Your name this century? Don’t be too edgy with it, okay?
Note: Callsings of godly names is a bad idea, as the god likely exists and will take offense at a pesky flesh-bag using their name.

Gender: Be what you want to be

[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?

Concept: This can be anywhere from a word to a paragraph. This is as much for me as it is for you. A quick reference to keep everyone true to their character.

Appearance: A good description and/or an image. No anime, please and thank you

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

StormWolf's Characters and NPCs

Spoiler: Connor Creedmore 

Name: Connor Creedmore

Alias/Callsign: Huntsman

Gender: Male

Race/Species: Human, Caucasian

Age: 35; and due to years of diligent maintenance, he keeps himself at the apex of physical condition.

Spoiler: Appearance 

Connor is a firmly built man of notable height and formidable build. Standing at a solid six feet and weighing in at 190 pounds of steely sinew, he is something of an imposing figure. Fair, moderately tattooed skin, touched by the sun, is stretched over imposing ridges of muscled physique. He cuts the hard silhouette one would expect from an apex predator. Connor sports masculine jaw and firm, handsome, even wolfish features – a strong nose, strong jaw, and severe brow; all stony planes and angles. 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 dirty brown-blond hair, cut close to the scalp at the back and sides, leaving enough at the top to style should the occasion arise but not short enough to hide the sneaking wings of silver at his temples. More often than not, Connor will have a short beard upon his jaw. Borne not out of a fashion standpoint as much a neglect to regularly shave.

Division Medics have estimated that roughly twenty-five to thirty percent of Connor’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 Special Forces before that. Where scars do not tread, tattoos are often scrawled, nordic, Egyptian, and celtic-druidic in origin and design - wards against possession and blessings of battle 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 heady scent of a man well-traveled; Connor has a constant aroma of coffee, leather, tobacco smoke, gun oil, and Old Spice around him.

In his day to day, Connor dresses as if constantly expecting to do some kind of taxing outdoor 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. When required to dress up for an occasion, he can clean up nice. Connor’s full-tilt operational gear is what one would expect from a modern military operative - full tactical gear, including Crye BDU pants and customised ballistic armor.

Spoiler: Personality 

Connor 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 and brusque even among the tightly knit brotherhood. Connor is always one to internalize and desensitize in order to maintain control and to keep a sound head. 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.

Spoiler: Powers, Traits, and Abilities 

Marksman: Ever since his upbringing in the Montauk Project, he has always had a gun either in hand or within reach. At his current level of skill, Connor exists within the upper echelons of military operator accuracy.

Close & Personal: Lethal up close as he is from afar, Connor is skilled in close-quarters combat with a mixture of martial arts, armed and unarmed. His choice weapons at the intimate range are knives. While he would prefer to not get in a position where he is left with just his fists, he is considerably lethal with them, as a proficient practitioner of multiple martial arts. These include Aikido, CQC, Krav Maga, Systema, Silat, Glima, Muay Thai, Kickboxing, and Judo.

Ironclad: Connor is naturally tough 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 and neigh unbreakable willpower.

Anima Aegis: Channeling his Anima through an enchanted arm ring, Connor can manifest a shield of arcane power. While it can stop most kinetic impacts, it does not 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, Connor 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.

Spoiler: Weapons 

Spoiler: Custom Reaper 33 

Optional Uppers: 6.5 Grendel, 458 Socom
14.5” barrel, 1:8 twist
Threaded Flash Hider
Suppressor
Trijcon Accupoint 1-6 scope, beveled Trijcon RMR, backup iron sights
BCM Gunfighter foregrip
35 round P-Magazines
Salient Arms Ion bonded Bolt Carrier Group
VOLTR EMOD stock
Hogue Overmoulded Long Rifle Grip, Talon treated
“Sunfire” VD600 rail light - a modification on the Surefire system that uses high-frequency UV light as a means to not only illuminate target areas, but stun nocturnal predators.

Robust and precise, the Reaper-33 is Connor’s optimized battle rifle, a pet project he’s constantly improving. He’s come to wield this rifle masterfully at marksman and danger-close ranges, treating it like an extension of himself.

Spoiler: Mossberg 590 Shockwave 

12ga
5 round extended magazine tube
Taran Ion bonded Bolt Carrier Group
“Silver stake” magazine cap bayonet
Magpul M-lok forend
ATI Side saddle shell carrier (5)
Raptor grip with talon tape
“Sunfire” VD600

When the situation requires something loud and messy, Connor falls back on his chosen shotgun. This pump-action “head eraser” is a no-nonsense boomstick. Lightweight, low profile, and small enough to hide in an overcoat.

Spoiler: Pistols 

STI Tactical DS 2011
10mm
6” barrel
17 round magazine
Flared Magwell
Threaded barrel

Glock 29 Subcombat
10mm
10 round magazine

Spoiler: Melee 

Ka-Bar Big Brother
10” high carbon steel blade, etched in rune-glyphs along the flat
Silver powder coat

Spyderco Folders

Spoiler: Talismans 

Aegis Armband - An old norse torc of braided silver, engraved with runes of protection, serving as a foci for Connor 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 Connor’s left forearm bearing several burn scars.

Elixir Stash: Connor takes into battle an extensive array of alchemical boosters which he changes based on the assignment. One must remember that these elixirs are toxic, and if taken too frequently or in the wrong dosage, can have highly adverse effects.

Spoiler: Favorite Elixirs 

Crocodile Tears: A molasses-thick potion that tastes of almonds and lemon. When imbibed, gives an individual a sickly, mimicking symptoms of severe sickness or disease. Intended to make an agent appear as prime bait for a supernatural predator.

Dragon’s Breath: A fine crystalline powder in aerosol form, taken via inhaler device. When exhaled, it is activated by temperature and pressure change as it leaves the body, becoming a highly volatile airborne contagion (also flammable).

Blood of the Cobra: An exotic tonic of cobra venom, hashish, and other alchemical reagents that double the strength, dexterity, and overall performance of the operative.

Catseye: Sandalwood oil infused with sacred herbs and coal. When applied around the eye like makeup or warpaint, , it sharpens his natural visual senses, including low-light vision and low-level etheric perception.

Spoiler: Background 

Ever since the incident in █████████, ██, select agencies United States government have been as obsessed with occult warfare. It started with the Division, but with the nearly-cataclysmic events of World War 2’s hidden fronts, like the siege on ██████, the highest echelons of government have invested in morally dubious occult research.

[AUTHORIZE ACCESS - LEVEL IV CLEARANCE]

It started with the Philadelphia Experiments in 1943, then incidents in Roswell, culminating in the Montauk Project in 1984. Women from across the United States were experimented on within the fringe fields bio-occult and thaumatechnology. One Ms. █████ was a volunteer from the rural province of ██████, Massachusetts. Given its close proximity to Innsmouth and Salem, areas within several hundred miles were thoroughly screened. ████ was treated with the proper bio-occult solutions and received a donation from a prime male sample, her offspring showed potential.

Subject 013 was born a healthy male, showing no birth defects. 013 exhibited moderate psychic potency in the fields of minor precognition. Attempts were made to enhance these latent abilities through various means. While subjects 001-006 perished in similar means, 007-011 experienced vastly improved psychokinetic aptitude. 012 and 013 were fell into regression, their psychic energies all but disappearing. However, they experienced increased mental activity as a resort. 013 in particular showed acute adrenal hyperactivity, enhanced reaction time, and highly attuned hand-eye coordination. Additional tests were made with stimulants ██-█, █-██-█, and ████, yielding no psychic recovery. Subject 013 was scheduled for termination, labeled as a failure, despite achieving the highest markers in physical aptitude tests than all other subjects in the 001-020 subject range.

However, before Subject 013 could be successfully terminated, one of the Montauk staff appeared to have smuggled the young male out of the program’s ████ ████, ██ headquarters in the winter of 1995. Subject 013 was 11 years old at the time. Though Montauk Asset Containment Units tracked down every league, Subject 013 technically didn’t exist, which made tracking him complicated. Unable to weed out the night staff that extracted Subject 013 from containment, all night staff was terminated in order to eliminate loose ends.

Subject 013 was fostered by a Raylan and Eleanor Creedmore in Harlan, Kentucky, where he experienced an unorthodox rural upbringing. Raylan was a Vietnam veteran and firm believer in a communist-wrought apocalypse. Just like their other children, Subject 013 - named Connor Creedmore - was put through the same paramilitary “extracurriculars” as his foster siblings. Intense physical conditioning, firearms and martial arts training, and rudimentary explosive ordnance was drilled into their bodies and minds. This, of course, armed Connor with an immense arsenal as a juvenile delinquent. Connor was a mediocre student, at best, showing aptitude for history, mathematics, and language.

When 9/11 came around, Connor ran from Harlan, lying about his age to enter the Marines at the age of 17. Though he hardly understood the extent of his abilities, he excelled in OCS and in the field, quickly getting himself cherry picked for elite military operations. On one of these deniable-ops missions, Connor and his team intersected with a Division strike team over the same objective in Iraq, leading to Connor’s falsified KIA report and induction into the Division’s ranks.

Operation: Lioness tasked Connor and his strike team to track and intercept Taliban to find the source of their blossoming narcotics trade. Connor’s Black Hawk was shot down by insurgents over a sloped plateau, revealing pre-mesopotamian ruins. Connor’s squad and the Taliban fought through the twisting labyrinth of cyclopean stone, not knowing just what the spilled blood was feeding.

Remaining as the last survivor of Operation: Lioness, Connor had no option by to retreat into the complex burrowed into the plateau. Within, he saw things that defied description. A vast tomb-palace of carven stone, older than anything he could have imagined, and the bombardment from above awoke something ancient and terrible.

Gigantic and decrepit, the gangling, shambling horror stalked Connor through its ruins on leathery wings. Nothing Connor used could harm the creature. Burning through his M4 ammunition, his sidearm ,and even his grenades glanced off the creature. Running for his life, the monster pursued. Tumbling through the loose sand and pulverized stone, it was by chance and dumb luck that lead the slavering monstrosity to the fuel-soaked earth and wreckage of the Black Hawk. Fire consumed the beast thoroughly enough, reducing it to a charred, misshaped skeleton.

The Division’s Valkyrie task force swept in shortly after, sweeping Connor up as the sole survivor. Confirming the kill of the creature, the team took Connor on their helicopter and back to their base of operations. Tested for bites, poisons, and other strange infections, when Connor was given a clean bill of health he was vigorously debriefed by Henry Sullivan and Sigrid Grimmsdottir, the two senior officers of the Valkyries.

After going through the Divisions’ strenuous physical, mental, and spiritual screening and conditioning Connor has served as premier field operative for the next decade and a half. Just like every other team, he got close as family to these people - even more so because he lived with them indefinitely, and he lost his share. Others, like Henry, just got too old and beat up for field work, but remained integral parts of his life. He had a just purpose, and he trusted the men and women at his side. In a few years, they were all as family. Such is the way of the Valkyries.

During his time, Connor became extremely close to a fellow operative, Aliya Gahiji. Romantic in some aspects, nothing that either of them would have openly committed to. In a life like theirs, the picket-fence dream was always out of reach. At least, that was what they always said. When Aliya ended up pregnant, it threw them all for a loop, especially when there was no guarantee that the child was his doing. From there, things only got more complex, culminating in a siege on one of their strongholds by the Cult of Zosimos, and Aliya’s kidnapping. In a race against time, Connor and the Valkyries tracked to Cult to Egypt. He was one of the first into the fray to extract her from the Scions of Zosimos and their hellish machinations. When she perished, he was wounded deeply. As part of his promise to Aliya, he took her child - the Oracle-child - under his care. Without protection, the Division would lock the child up like a lab rat. He was ill-equipped to deal with raising a child, so the Valkyries veteran members cooperated to ensure the Oracle was properly prepared when the time came. The crack team of paranormal-military operators became a true family in the Aliya’s wake, she who kept them together when the going got rough, and for the legacy the Oracle-child represented.

Spoiler: RP Sample 

If there was ever another reason to hate the sand, this night had given Connor all the reasons he would ever require. Aliya 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, among partially unearthed ruins of strange stone that predated any of the pyramids. Peering over a gargantuan slab of hieroglyph-carved obsidian, Connor surveyed the opposition. Clad in dark robes and sanguine bronze masks, the Scions sported the usual go-to for the sandbox - AKs.

The past fifty hours of sleeplessness had Connor in a wrathful mood, driven by desperation, more than anything. Nerves were tense, a twisting knot in place of his stomach. Easing back the bolt on his rifle, then letting it snap into place, Connor took a few preparatory breaths.

"On my mark," he said into his throat mic. "3... 2... 1. Engage." Rolling out of cover, Connor snapped his sights up to the nearest hostile. Finger depressing on the trigger, three thunderclaps filled the air as hot silver-jacketed lead spilled from the barrel to tear jagged holes in their ordained target. Before the first body even hit the ground, Connor 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 Connor in kind. Ducking and diving for the nearest cover, Nathan pressed his back to a jagged and crumbling wall of obsidian and granite.

"Valkyrie-Two, this is Valkyrie-One. You are go for advance, over."
"Roger Valkyrie-One, Valkyrie-Two is bringing the thunder. Over and out."

The dune opposite Connor's position came to life with flickering lights, followed by the crackling of yet more gunfire. Rising to a knee and leaning around his cover, Connor squeezed off a few more rounds, dropping two more cultists.

"Valkyrie-One, this is Valkyrie-Five. We have a man down and hostiles closing in. Over!" Peering over the rise of a slanted set of ruins, Connor saw the murky shadow-shapes of his comrades, one of them slumped against a crumbling staircase.

"Ten-four, Valkyrie-Five. On the way." Connor replied. Dropping his rifle to its sling, he drew out his pistol, flicking the safety off with a casual flexing of his thumb. Pulling an XM98 “witch buster” grenade from his flak vest, Connor tossed the primed charge around the corner of his cover before preparing his Aegis Ring. A flash, a deafening boom, and a surge of etheric energy followed the four count of the fuse. That was Connor's window.

Sprinting across the opening, Connor channeled his Anima into the twisted silver ring of metal around his wrist. A dome of faint blue light grew from Connor'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, Connor was easily violating several handfuls of military regulation. Then again, not many military regulations included having a shield of pure energy at one’s wrist, or magic bullets.

Spoiler: Musical Themes/Inspirations 

One
Two
Three

Spoiler: NPCs 

Spoiler: Henry “Sage” Sullivan 

Henry "Sage" Sullivan is a silver fox of a man, his dark hair long since turned to iron and silver. His blue-and-grey eyes alight with intellect and wit, Henry takes a relaxed approach to most things. The oldest mortal member 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, cutting intellect.

Sage is the current head of the Valkyries, the pinnacle of rank among 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 Beacon. It is an old lighthouse and compound off the rocky coast of rural Maine, called Solomon Island.

Being and old-school gentleman, when he gets out to the range, he favors an M1 Grand and Taurus Judge. He has an original Holland 4-bore double-barrel rifle over the mantle of the Beacon's main building, supposedly given to him by a Rakshasa Raja for some great deed.

Spoiler: Claude Sanderson 

Claude appears to be a massive man of Samoan heritage, with keen and brilliant hazel eyes and a gentle face that seem ill-placed on such a powerfully-built individual. Most of this is a ruse. A glamor to hide his true visage. When the glamor drops, you will see massive ivory tusks, scars and tattoos all crammed in a pressed shirt and sweater-vest. The glamor is woven into his glasses, and is low-intensity enough to operate for days at a time; hiding his claw-like nails, tusks, pointed ears, and scars. Otherwise, his hair, skin, and body type remains the same.

Claude is, in fact, an orc serving a lifetime probation with the Division for past crimes. He’s turned over a new leaf from his younger years, and has been a stringent pacifist for nearly six decades. He’s a student under Henry Sullivan, acting as a secondary occult scholar and lore-miner. He occupies a chair in Beacon’s operational command, called Overwatch on comms. Claude is also married to the other senior member of the Valkyries, Sigrid. Don’t make a big deal about it. Claude won’t hit you, but his wife will.

Spoiler: Sigrid Grimmsdottir 

Roughly 5’6” with strong Scandinavian features and braided blonde hair, Sigrid’s golden eyes are keen and hawkish. She possessed a chiseled kind of beauty and athletic build from many lifetimes of warfare, since before she first landed in the Americas centuries before Lief stumbled his way there. She was entrusted with a mission that, even to this day, she will not disclose, even to her husband. Towards the rest of her troops, she's every part the Team Mom.

Though Sigrid rarely enters the field anymore, when she does, she is a marvel to behold. A sniper par excellence and a ferocious melee fighter, earning her wings hundreds of times over. Her weapons of choice are her Saber-Forstt .338 Precision Tactical Rifle, HK USP 45, and her magically-enhanced viking broadsword

Spoiler: The Winterfield Family 

Situated in their 3 acre territory in the Blue Mountain Valley, the Winterfield family keeps mostly to themselves, though you will see no shortage of their brood around town, especially during the weekly Farmer's Market and the County Fair season. They run the Winterfield Farm & Ranch, known for fine organic produce, perishables, and the strongest weed on the east coast: called "Wolfsbane". How else do you think he tames the beast with two stubborn wives and a village-worth of kids and grandkids?

An uncommon family setup, but not unheard of, they are what would best be described as "polyamorous parentage". Being an endangered purebred lycanthropic breed or northern European stock, the Winterfield family is their primary effort in re-population and cultural preservation. Forced to flee Europe during World War 2, D.O.G.S. provided them amnesty and protection. Since they entered the supernatural equivalent of WitPro, they've been laying low and, well... repopulating.

Harland “Harry” Winterfield - Appears to be in his mid-40s. Served with the D.O.G.S. from 1949-1993, officially retiring after suffering severe kinetic silver trauma to his chest and right leg. He walks with a perpetual limp, and appears frequently tired, but in high spirits. Harland is a Caucasian male of Germanic-Norman descent with gradually graying auburn hair and beard, and hazel eyes. He's not a terribly violent man, trying to leave the hunter-killer part of his life behind him.

Siobhan "Shiv" McCoy Winterfield - Randal's first wife, a female appearing to be in her late 30s. A Caucasian woman of Irish decent with emerald green eyes and a mane of copper hair, she is protective of her family to the extreme. Siobhan has served as a spy and assassin for MI13, the United Kingdom's clandestine occult counter-warfare group. She broke Harland out of the Schwarze Sonne camp he was held in, and ended up marrying him at the end of the war.

Mari Gundersen Winterfield - A danish woman of middling height and fair features, she was a member of the Scandinavian Resistance during the war, and saw no shortage of the horrors the Nazi Occult drudged up in their pursuit of Hyperborea. She is Harland's second wife, apparently in her mid 30s. A bookish woman, Mari runs "King Books" in King's Harbor.

These three have been married for the better part of a century, and as such have been extremely productive. The three of them have produced over 25 children, many of which have pursued works in and around Solomon Island's various institutes, and even in the Division itself. The oldest of the Winterfield Clan themselves have married and gone on to have pups of their own. While they aren't permitted to leave the protective perimeter of the Division, they can live a full and happy life.

Spoiler: Eldrich Crowe 

Courtesy of Koti~
Name: Eldrich Crowe

Age: 35

Gender: male

Occupation: Kingdom Sorcerer

Appearance: Eldrich stands at an impressive 5’9” and a very thin frame. He has a very sallow face, and seems a bit .. off kilter. His nose is crooked downwards, giving him a beak like appearance due to his pointed jaw. His hair is a peppered grey, half of the time left scraggly, the other time kept well groomed. His eyes are a deep black, set a bit back into his skull, giving them a permanent shadowy look. His body boasts no physical muscle tone, yet shows little signs of fat. He has a slightly noticeable lean to it, yet it does little to diminish his looks.

When not working, he wears a simple black tunic, tied at the waist by a braided leather belt, and simple leather breeches. He has three separate pouches, where he keeps his cards and other important ingredients. He also wears polished black boots that were custom fitted, and has two inside hilts to hold small daggers.

While working, he wears a robe of deep red, inlaid with gold trim in the shape of seals. A hood hangs back, the inside lined with pockets to hold different types and sizes of daggers, each a pure silver and more wicked looking than the last. Though capable of fighting, he only uses them for sacrifices during his rituals.

Personality - Crow is, most of the time, a near emotionless mask, hiding his twisted desires behind a cold facade. He hardly ever shows his emotions, keeping a polite demeanor while interacting with people. He has been known to make people quite angry while he keeps his cool. When angry, or having a bout of insanity, he lashes out at the nearest things inside his range, regardless of their personal ties, or their strength.

Bio- Eldrich’s past is somewhat fogged from the increase of the mental degradation. All he can remember is the death of his own parents, though he is unsure if he killed them or not. Along with that, he has other flash backs of his past about how he has joined the route of the occult, and being blessed in the blood of virgins, though he can hardly accept these as true moments, due to his own mental stability.

Spoiler: Alura Dusk 

Name: Alura Dusk

Alias/Callsign: Purely home support role, but has been called Ash due to her fur color and her skill at turning training targets to smouldering piles of charcoal.

Gender: Female

Race/Species: Inu.

Age (Real and apparent, if applicable): 22

Concept: Alura is a techie and Claude's assistant, but also a utility solider working as a guard for the Beacon.

Appearance:

Spoiler: Alura 

While smaller than the average Inu, 37-26-35, being the measurement she told the Quartermaster upon joining. Her body is a sultry 5'6 weighing a svelte 125lbs with hefty 37 DDs. She is a woman proud of her appearance, but hates being complimented on it before her brains get complimented.

While the above is her usual form and her sleeping attire her Inu form is slightly bigger at about 5'8 and weighs around 130. And her usual clothes are black robes with close fitting sleeves and black boots.

Personality: Alura is a down to earth young woman. She, like many of the tack force was forced to grow up quick. So she turned her naturally keen mind and lupine physique towards learning the world that hurt her and finding a way to blow it up.

Powers, Traits, and Abilities

Racial Abilities

Lupine Physique: Being an Inu gives Alura strength and durability equal to people like Forcebreaker or Ken. Her endurance and speed is greater than Forcebreaker's though.

Senses: Like a normal wolf Alura has a very keen nose and ears.

Naturally inquisitive: She's a quick-witted young woman and is always asking questions.

Claws and Jaws: While not at the level of a normal wolf Alura can still fight very well with her teeth and blunt claws.


Mundane Abilities

Fur control: An odd ability achieved through magic Alura can shift between a mostly human form with just ears and a tail and her natural form which is a bipedal wolf humanoid complete with muzzle, body covered in fur, and more wolf like feet.

Techie: Possessing a natural love of technology and learning how it works. Alura is an amateur inventor and computer whiz.

Demolitions: Even though she's not a field operative she lives by a simple philosophy when she does have to go out and fight. "Extreme fire power makes up for lack of field training. Cause who needs years of combat experience when you can fuck your opponent, the guys next to him, and the building they're hiding in with a big enough napalm strike?"

Sharpshooter: As is S.O.P for the D.O.G.S Alura is an adequate shooter.

Wolf Solider: Very much like Sharpshooter, Ash has training in hand-to-hand combat and uses her natural abilities to her advantage.

Standard Loadout

Weapon called Dragon, a modified VALAR-30 drum-fed infantry grenade launcher, with single/burst fire for 30mm grenades.

-Special grenades

-Wildfire, regular incendiary with runes to increase spread.
-Holy Wraith, chemical flash bang grenades infused with holy water.
-Silver Shadow, lock all the power of a stun gun into the form of a modified RPG using silver shrapnel.

Her only other weapons are a pair of Glock 45s loaded with silver-jacketed ammo.

Spoiler: Background 

Alura's life is like many of her comrades. The monsters of the night had ensured she would live a lonely life early on. But unlike them she didn't have to fight to survive on her own long. Her family lived on the Winterfield lands as workers and once they were wiped out by a coven of Nekkers she was taken into the folds of the Valkyrie task force at fourteen after showing a proficiency at technology.

Even among the kind warriors though she felt alone. She wasn't a Lycan so she couldn't become one of the Winterfields, but she couldn't fully hide her ears and tail so she couldn't be out in the world. So she wound up falling into a secluded role as Claude's assistant down in the Archives and Labs. It was fulfilling work, but she longed to be more. And eventually Sage found her an outlet, in her twentieth year the lab had been experimenting with explosives and many of the team members at the time were being negatively effected by the ingredients and chemicals. But Inu were a hardy breed so she was asked to help and through that she found a love for chemistry and explosives. Now for three years she's been perfecting and training with them. Cause even if you just plan to nuke the earth from orbit you need to know which buttons to push and be able to carry the shell to the gun for firing.

RP Sample: idk if you want her to be a full char or not so I'll just leave this blank for now.

NPC Fostering
Solomon Island, our primary home base, is full of all manner of peculiar dramatis personae. If you have an idea for an NPC within this preternatural melting pot, feel free to send me a little pitch about them. It can be a full CS if you like, or a 'low-calorie' sheet like I've done for my NPCs, listed above.

Strongholds

Spoiler: The Beacon 

Solomon Island, Washington County, Maine, is home to several provincial New England towns, once a famous summer colony for the affluent elite, though the most affluent and in may attend the local University. For decades, Solomon Island has been under the dutiful watch of the Division as a reservation for extra-normal entities that would be considered endangered or misplaced from their ancestral habitats. Home to 4,233 citizens between the towns of King's Harbor, Rooksmouth, the Wabanaki Reservation, and private properties, it is estimated 12% of Solomon Island's population possesses some kind of preternatural inclination, most of which are seeking protection.

Outside the natural, stony formation of Fletcher's Bay is Northman's Landing. Most of the island is considered a national reserve, including a Wabanaki reservation, Avalon National Forest, and the Beacon Lighthouse. The Beacon is an old lighthouse with the appearance of a medieval-style tower, said to give the town and harbor its name. A complex spreads around the lighthouse, meant to evoke a park ranger’s base. Considered private government property, it is surrounded by a chain link fence and razor wire. What is not visible is the bunker complex that spans the entire island well below sea level. This is the true Beacon, the D.O.G.S. primary base on the eastern United States seaboard, and the primary base for the Valkyrie task force.

Asset importance - Critical: Omega V

Spoiler: The Ranch 

Location, Colorado, United States. Estimated ██ miles from ██████.
The Ranch was established to have a mid-west stronghold. In the ██████ incursion of ████, the ███████ nature of the threat required a constant presence. The Ranch's prime directive to is monitor ██████ █-███ for any activity. Lesser ██████ drawn to location are to be terminated. Trespassing persons are to be terminated. In the case of ██████ becoming active, Voluspa Protocol is to be initiated, activating on-site thaumanuclear countermeasures
Staff: [Classified pending Omega III clearance]
Asset importance - Critical: Omega V

Character Roster

Spoiler: Active Duty Operatives 

Connor Creedmore - StormWolf
Oracle Nathan Creedmore -Koti~
Kodran Vekelsson - SaltyIrishman
Isabella/Caitlyn - Koti~
Ansleigh & Bellatrix - P.K.
Ken Chinua-Borjigin & Todosi Kumanosuke Takaashi - Dnafein
Forcebreaker - Sikstaslathalin

[Cfavano]

“Ia! Ia! Cthulhu fhtagn!”


Name: N'tari Rah-Shamayin

Gender: Female

[b]Race/Species:[b] Blood-Cursed

[Age (Real and apparent, if applicable): She appears to be 27, but is actually about four thousand years old

Concept: In essence, she is a vampire, lacking all the traditional weaknesses of a vampire. The major differences is garlic is only smelly to her, she predates Christianity so crucifixes do nothing to her, neither does holy water, she loves being out in the sun, and a steak through the heart can incapacitate, but won't kill her, and as long as she has blood, she can regenerate. Despite all these powers, a bullet is still a bullet, and will penetrate her skin, if it hits.

Appearance:

Spoiler: N'tari 

Personality:N'tari, for all of her age, is rash and impulsive, as she is vulgar and crass (especially since she keeps on the up and up with pop cultutre). While she seeks both mental and physical perfection (she is more intelligent than she acts), she fell into the trap immortals have, boredom. She is easily bored by things she does not like doing, and can be quick to anger. Being undead, and therefore, immune to STDs, she does sleep around quite a bit, and dresses provocatively to show off her feminine features.

Powers, Traits, and Abilities:

Being immortal, she cannot die from old age, nor can she be magically aged by any means, while being undead also makes her immune to any disease, both mundane or magical. She is also immune to poison because of this, although drinking blood mixed with alcohol can make her drunk, same with mixing it with any drug will mimic the 'high' one would get from taking said drug.

The essence that infuses her body grants her improves senses, speed, strength, agility, resilience, and stamina far beyond what a 'normal' human could ever achieve. Video footage of her has shown her dodging bullets and kicking back thrown grenades, and this required the camera to be slowed down to be able to track her movements. If she does manage to get hit, she also has a healing factor, though this is most effective if she stops and enters a hibernation state.

Her god-given life ensure that she can never truly die, and she can reform, given time. It is by no means instant, but as long as her patroness lives, she will never truly end. And if her body is destroyed, it reforms in her tomb up to a week later.

When feeding, she can either feed the traditional vampire way, by biting and sucking, or by piercing the victim with her fingers, and absorbing it through her fingers' capillaries. There is technically no limit to the amount of blood she can consume, but if she consumes more than she needs, it is stored in her body as fat would be, and she appears to gain weight. Her skin also takes on a pinkish hue. To maintain herself, she only really needs a pint or so of blood a month.

Having had literally centuries of training, she is skilled beyond what any mortal can achieve in the martial arts with a variety of weapons (though archaic), save for guns. She never liked them. She is mentally quick and, while she is not very charismatic, she can be very intimidating.

Through centuries of practice and dark rites, she has gain quite a long list of spells she can use. However, these spells have cost, as she must consume blood to use them, as using them burns the blood away.

These are:

Spoiler: Spells 

Sekhmet's Blood surge - calling out to the essence in a target, she wills it to erupt from every pore, tearing them asunder. This blood aerosolizes and she absorbs it.

Tefnut's Torrent - calling on the moisture in the air, she crates a powerful jet of water that shoots out with roughly the power of a fire hose.

Nephthys's Communation - By calling to the spirits of the recently dead, provided she has their body, she can interrogate them for information, and they are compelled to answer

Storm of Set - Calling out to the winds, she summons forth a storm that, while it does no harm, it does obscure the vision of others.

Reformation of Osiris - Calling to the underworld, she can breath a mockery of life into a corpse, turning it into a zombie.

Pillars of Geb - Calling to the earth, she causes a sharp spike of stone to rise up from underneath a target, impaling it.

Nut's Guidance - Calling to the moon, if she is lost, a silvery path of moonlight shows the true path back to her allies, or to her goal as she wills.

Visage of Ra - Calling to the sun and extending her arms up and out to the side, she radiates an extreme incandescence that blinds her foes and burns their eyes in their sockets.

Skill of Astarte - Calling to the ancient spirits of war, she can temporarily imbue another with the skills of eons of warriors, making them, for a time, skilled far beyond their means in the arts of war. Though, she quickly fades.

Gift of Horus - Calling on the compassion of Horus, she heals another's wounds.

Maw of Ammit - Calling on the Devourer of the Dead, a great chasm opens underneath a group of targets, as the ground swallows them up, never to be seen again.

Hide of Sobek - Calling on the God of Crocodiles, she toughest the skin of herself or another so that it becomes as resilient as kevlar, and takes on the appearance of crocodile skin (only in pattern)

Knowledge of Thoth - Calling upon the God of Knowledge, she conjures forth a great book that, when used with a cipher of piece of lore, grants the key to decipher it, and gives context to a context-less quote or bit of writing.

Standard Loadout:

The Blood Chalice of Sekhmet (her magical focus) - A chalice of pure gold and set with rubies, this magicked chalice, when blood is drunk from it, imbues mortal drinkers with great power (though, it may kill them later), if water fills it, and a drop of blood is placed, it can be used as a scrying device.

The Black Blades of Anubis - A pair of inwardly curving single-edged serrated sword of an otherworldly black metal, these enchanted blades cut through mundane armor like sharp knife through papyrus.

The Bow of Ra - a magicked bow made seemingly all of bronze, but is as supple as wood that, when the string is drawn, an arrow of light is formed. When it hits a soft target, it explodes as if it is an incendiary round, bathing the target in fire. if it hits something hard, however, it shatters in a burst of blinding light, similar to a flash grenade.

The Ankh of Protection - A golden charm worn around her neck, this item generates a magical ward around her that can protect her from harm.

Background:

N'tari was the Concubine of a very powerful, and honestly, very insane Pharaoh. He was obsessed with magic and gaining immortality, and spend most of his days researching, rather than leading. At night, he would still perform his sexual duties, and while he did favor N'tari, it was clear that his heart wasn't in it. It also could have been the fact that he was already quite old. N'tari didn't mind, for she never loved him in the first place, and was only in it for the riches. Coming from a family of poor laborers, this was the best gig she could find.

One day, however, he went quite mad. He insisted he had found the secret, and made preparations to be shut away in his tomb after drinking his new 'immortality drug'. He insisted N'tari come with him, to be with him when he awakes, fresh and young, that he may have her properly, before returning to his people. She, being sane, refused. he would have none of this however, and had his guards drag her, screaming and kicking into the chamber as she was chained to a wall. The guards left and the room was sealed. As was expected, the Pharaoh never woke.

She had a plate with a little food and a single goblet of wine, as the mad God-King believed that he would waken within hours, and therefore, she would not need much. On the third day, however, things were looking grim for the young woman. Near dead of thirst, she proclaimed loudly to whatever deity was listening that she would give her soul if only she would live. Something answered. Seemingly magically, her cup filled again with what she thought was wine, but when she lifted it to smell it, she realized that it was blood. Dying of thirst as she was, she did not hesitate to drink it. Sekhmet had answered her, and turned her into something inhuman.

All at once, she was filled with strength, and she easily broke the heavy bonds that once held her. Filled also with rage, she descended on the body of her former master, and tore him apart. That done, she opened the door of the inner tomb, and surprised the only remaining servants, for the others had given up. She descended upon them and, with them screaming, drained every last drop out of them. Her lust sated, she explored the temple.

The Pharaoh had taken all his worldly possessions with him, stored them in this tomb. She decided they were hers now. She studied his scrolls, and trained with his weapons by day, and left by night to feed on the people of the palace (the tomb was connected by a secret tunnel to his palace, for he truly believed he would wake up). Centuries this went on, as Dynasties rose and fell, still, she remained in the Tomb, working through all the arcane lore he had managed to acquire throughout his life, interspersing that with physical training using golems she made using a guide he had.

After centuries of this, she tired of the world, and went into a deep and dreamless slumber. Around her, the world changed, and she, herself shriveled up and became a dried husk of herself. It wasn't until 1897 that a group of greedy Englishmen seeking to gain riches by plundering the tombs of egypt in the name of 'recovering lost artifacts', opened her tomb. An argument started, and one of the men shot another one, the blood spraying onto her withered form, and his bleeding body fell back onto her. The fresh, warm blood reinvigorated her, and she awoke, hungry and full of rage. She leaped up in a flash and with a howl so terrifying that one of the men fainted dead away. She made quick work of them, glutting herself on their fresh blood. She recognized neither their clothing, nor their accouterments, which confused her. She used on of their canteens and a drop of her blood to scry in her cup, and what she saw of the world terrified and confused her. It was completely different from her time, and she had to find some way to adapt. She left her tomb, and spent the next forty years exploring, until a fateful encounter had her meet up with the Valkyries. She joined them, and brought with her all of the old Pharaoh's stuff, bringing a great treasure trove of lost mystic lore.

RP Sample:

Innsmouth, it was a town of wide extent and dense construction, yet one with a portentous dearth of visible life. From the tangle of chimney-pots scarcely a wisp of smoke came, and the three tall steeples loomed stark and unpainted against the seaward horizon. One of them was crumbling down at the top, and in that and another there were only black gaping holes where clock-dials should have been. The vast huddle of sagging gambrel roofs and peaked gables conveyed with offensive clearness the idea of wormy decay. It was where N'tari found herself.


She was dressed in more than usual, dressed like a college student on vacation. Supposedly, she was there to do a report on a collection of art that had recently arrived, the collected works of Richard Upton Pickman, but in reality, she had come to take them for the Valkyries, to store them in the vault, for they contained powers no man should have...but currently she was in the fight for her life. She had been discovered breaking into the gallery, and one of the inbred mutant fishmen had sounded an alarm.

They fell on her in droves, wave after wave of bloated, grotesque humanoids. She was quicker and stronger, but many had guns. While she could dodge bullets, it was not easy, especially in enclosed areas and when there are a lot of them. She was bleeding from many wounds, and was nervous about her chances when she heard the telltale 'whup-whup-whup- of the Helicopter, and knew reinforcements were on their way. This caused her to fight with even more vigour, and several moments later, armed figures dropped in through the glass ceiling and blasted at the fishmen with automatic fire. This kept them off for enough time to steal the paintings and get the hell out of dodge.

[P.K.]

Ia! Ia! Cthulhu fhtagn!

Good gravy Storm! you didn't hold back with any of that information!
Its a good thing its going to stay on the front page so I can come back and read it again xD

Now to decide what I want to play....
Character limit?

[StormWolf]

Ia! Ia! Cthulhu fhtagn!

Good gravy Storm! you didn't hold back with any of that information!
Its a good thing its going to stay on the front page so I can come back and read it again xD

Now to decide what I want to play....
Character limit?

Depends on their capacity. People can "donate" NPCs as much as they like. Active Duty characters, I would say keep it to 2?

EDIT: Added a Division Codex to the "What Goes Bump in the Night" tab.

This will be an evolving information resource as characters and circumstances demand.

[Cfavano]

i hope I actually get to use her, the version I used her in before ended before I could really open up.

[P.K.]

Depends on their capacity. People can "donate" NPCs as much as they like. Active Duty characters, I would say keep it to 2?

Alright, that gives me a number to work with!

I'll PM some ideas to you to make sure they are okay.

[Koti~]

THIS IS BACK!

I HAVE SO MANY THINGS!

[P.K.]

Its my bed time I'll try and finish my characters tomorrow after work.
For now. Good night yall.

[Dnafein]

You want me to bring my werewolf back for this?

[StormWolf]

You want me to bring my werewolf back for this?

You are more than welcome to. There is a sizeable werewolf family in Solomon Island, so while you might not be related, you might be close to them and the brood.