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Tryndamere

02/15/2019 01:41 PM 

Rules - Please Read!

1. You must be +18 to roleplay / friend me. Doesn't matter if it's a mature theme or not, there will be no exceptions to this rule.

2  No One-liners please. It doesn't have to be long, but it has to have substance.

3. All RPs will be done here on Aniroleplay. I don't give out my discord on the first date; sorry folks!

4. These rules will be updated on occasion. Keep on the look out.

Sign if you have read and agree with this tiny list of rules!

ᵀᴴᵃᵀʀeᴅʜeaᴅ

02/15/2019 01:35 PM 

.The Otherworld.

     ‘ Have you heard of the Mayan “end of the world”? You know, a bunch of nonsense about the world ending in 2012? Yeah, well it was a load of sh*t. The Mayan Calendar ended, but the world sure as Hell didn’t. Some would argue that it did, but what really ended was the Veil, or most of it anyway.

     ‘ In the fall of 2012, sh*t got real. Centuries of quiet feuds and concealed conflicts reached a breaking point. Most humans carried phones that could record audio and video, while essentially telepathically linked to the rest of humanity electronically. Hiding things wasn’t as easy as it was in the Middle Ages. The vampires quietly ruling the cities kept expanding into the wilderness. The lycanthropes living in remote rural areas were running out of, well, remoteness. The most arrogant and the most pissy supernaturals were beginning to fight openly, and too often to hide.      

      ‘Tiny spats between young vampires with no subtlety, and young werewolves with more testosterone than brains, spiraled out of control. Soon their leaders were dragged into it, ancient vampires started waking up to the smell of mass bloodshed, and humans caught sight of it. The news was filled with scenes of werewolves and vampires ripping each other apart and doing things that were “impossible”.

      ‘Governments tried to intervene, usually while trying to win public favor by trying to exterminate all the scary monsters. As it turned out, the scary monsters controlled a large chunk of the economies and militaries. In a moment of revelation, the one thing that really kept vampires in check was gone. An elder that always hated the Veil killed the president on live television, and laughed about how impotent politicians really were.

      ‘That was a mistake. Politicians are generally ass-licking sycophants doing the dirty work for corporate fat-cats, but humans in general aren’t powerless. The Occultists usually stayed away from power plays, but they had to remind the vampires that they don’t own the planet. The vampires, and just about everyone else, thought the occultists had been out of the picture since the inquisition. Like the supernaturals, they just learned to be more careful and choose their battles. Rather than dwindle, they took advantage of faster transportation, academic institutions, archaeological excavations, and sweet, sweet technology. A whole library of dusty old grimoires can fit on a hard drive. Anthropology departments and museum collections are great ways to acquire ancient relics. The occultists had been growing in number since the 1800s, hiding secret paths to lure the insightful, and send the stupid chasing lizard-people. When a third party flew onto the stage with an ass-load of natural disasters and sudden explosive infernos, everyone went all out.

      ‘The Supernatural World War didn’t last long, but it was messy. Desperate politicians ordered nuclear strikes, killing millions of civilians w that were more like paramilitary gangs with no regard for anyone living in their territory. It was a bloody free-for-all. Then, like most wars, it was over. No one really won. The vampires still had their cities and precious positions of influence. The werewolves still had the boonies. The occultists managed to shake up the supernaturals without exposing themselves too much. The rest tried to slip back into their various niches and pretend it was business as usual, only it wasn’t.

      ‘Cities had been destroyed, economies had entirely collapsed in a week, and the general public now knew werewolf gangs and vampire cabals were real. Some people knew ordinary humans in the right university or family could learn how to put Harry Potter to shame. Some had found out about others in all the chaos, like changelings posing as ordinary humans, and possessed people that weren’t just schizophrenic religious fanatics. It was a brave new world, but also a scared old world. The supernaturals weren’t sure how to handle a society that knew they existed, and most humans weren’t sure what to make of a world where the folklore and a few crazy theories were at least kinda true. It was the beginning of a new age.

      ‘Most of the major religions went tits up. Evangelical Christians had a hard time galvanizing fanatics when vampires older than Christianity contradicted them at every turn. Some managed to play the “minions of the devil” card, but then the vampires would just throw the “there is no devil” card at them, which they strapped to a piece of the true cross. The vampires had a real thing for torturing preachers over using Roman names instead of Aramaic ones too. The other monotheistic religions had a lot of the same problems, and the extremist factions suddenly had too many people they hated to keep track of. A lot of bigots couldn’t be open with their hate anymore; beating up a twink or an old Jew in an alley isn’t hard, but it’s hard to were-bash a biker that can grow a severed arm back in a minute or two, then ripe you in half like a f***ing Christmas cracker. The hate groups had to go underground and learn to be as careful as the supernaturals they suddenly had to direct their bigotry at.

      ‘Business and pop culture got weirder, like usual. Suddenly, vamp bars were a thing where horny flakes into the cheesy vampire romance novels could suddenly trade blood for a quickie with a two hundred year-old with fangs. Were-porn made bestiality almost legal. Occult and new age shops saw better sales than in the 70s and 90s combined. Just about every teenager was a “psychic” if they had a dream and guessed the weather accurately a few times, and every oddball outsider kid thought they might be a changeling. The dent in the human population and economic upheaval stopped the urban sprawl for a few years, and guns of all shapes and sizes were legalized everywhere. Unsurprisingly, shootings became as common as office affairs and sexual abuse scandals. Every hate monger and deranged idiot with or without a pulse could buy automatic weapons meant for war, and go on a shooting spree in the name of the living, waking up on the wrong side of the bed, or f***ing Gozer the Gozerian. Politicians suddenly had to change laws quickly when faced with a new wild west. Suddenly human blood came bottled in some convenience stores.

      ‘By 2020, things started to become the new normal. Sure, most major cities are still dystopian sh*tholes, every idiot with an assault rifle thinks they’re a “werewolf hunter”, and the governments are all still quaking with the fear of that hot vampire stud getting elected. Aside from the cultural craziness and huge spikes in violence, things are as kinda-sorta normal-ish as they can be in eight years.

      ‘Now the big question, is where do you fit in all of this? Who are you? What are you? What can you do? What motivates you to get out of bed, or a coffin, each day or night? Are you “out of the coffin” about whatever you are, or do you lead a secret life for convenience? Do you know any supernaturals? Is your drinking body a hunter that goes globetrotting while looking for Lovecraftian tentacle-monsters to kill? Did you vote for that V.A.M.P. governor in the last election? Why are you suddenly in a shabby city like Detroit? Were you born there? Did you move there? Is it were you got bitten or vamped? Did Puck swap you with a human baby back in 1990? Are you on the run and using all the abandoned ruins in the most post-apocalyptic of dystopian cities for hideouts? Did you escape a cult that grew you from a drugged woman and a glob of old one goo?

      ‘There’s really only one way to find out. Welcome to the Otherworld.’

 

-Professor V.


Noctis RoyalRebel

02/15/2019 12:14 AM 

[RP Advice] Claiming Self As Character (Embodiment)

There is one other issue I recently remembered. It’s when others claim to be the real version of characters. I actually made enemies with someone years ago who did just that, became my ex friend real fast.


I understand you choose your characters based on your own personalities, but for Astral’s sake, please do not ever claim to be the real life version of your muse. I cannot express this enough honestly, cosplay does not make you the real thing, roleplaying to a T does not make you the real thing. There is nothing in existence that will ever make you the real version of a character. It’s honestly disheartening when I see someone claim to be the real Tifa, or someone claiming to be the real Sora just because they act like them and cosplay them.


Leave the reality of a character, to the creators and voice actors, please. You can be “like them” but you will never actually become them. People used to call me the real Xion all the time, because I portrayed her perfectly. Never once did I claim to be the real Xion. As of recent, I am told I make one of the best Noctis people have met. Again, I do not claim to be the actual real Noctis.


You cannot embody a character that you portray. It does not make you who they are as characters. You can adapt to their ways of thinking and behaving, but that’s about it. Making your mentality adjust to a character’s does not mean you are that character. It doesn’t matter how long you RP, you will never become said character in flesh, feature or mind.


Take this to heart, because I have lost several friends because they claim to be the actual characters.

RP Advice, Advice, RP, RolePlay

ᵀᴴᵃᵀʀeᴅʜeaᴅ

02/14/2019 10:37 PM 

.Danny Boy.

‘Aedan “Danny” McNamara. Born in Dublin, Ireland March 23rd and moved to San Francisco, California at the age of 5. His father was a conservation zoologist for the San Francisco Zoo and his mother was a homemaker. By that, she was a domestic architect before having a whopping six children. That’s the Irish Catholic side of the family. Aedan came first, then five sisters.

‘His early life was rather ordinary. Aedan liked going to the zoo while his father worked at, teaching Potato the Pomeranian tricks, playing video games, and Tae kwon do classes. Being a bit of a shrimpy kid with nothing but younger sisters meant he was on his own, and let’s face it; the family dog wasn’t going to save him from bullies. Being small, freckled, and a bit of a ginger made the Irish boy an easy target. By the sixth grade, he were taking Muay Thai classes as well. It’s as if he knew it would only get worse in middle school. Fortunately, sometime after puberty the freckles began to fade and his hair darkened from a carrot top to something darker, rustier. By the time he was in high school, the physical bullying was dying down.

‘After nearly flunking his senior year in high school, Aedan moved on to San Francisco State University. The Irishman had no idea what to pick for a major, so he just took whatever classes he liked the sound of. It ended up being a smattering of biology, business administration, and psychology of all things. Aedan ended up having to drop a course every term to avoid bombing it, and the Supernatural War shook him up like everyone else, but he managed to tread the academic waters. Unfortunately, his parents didn’t have as much luck treading water. During the beginning of his fourth year at San Francisco State University they drowned when their boat sank near the Farallon Islands Game Refuge. Aedan avoided deep water since then.

‘As the eldest, he suddenly found himself in a parental-like role. One sister was nineteen, another 18, yet another seventeen, and the twins were just acne-ridden fifteen year-olds. Insurance kept most of the bills paid and all of the McNamara children under a single roof, but Aedan found it difficult to manage his sisters while studying, so he dropped out and got a part-time job as a foster coordinator for Muttville. He was also trying to raise his siblings in a world that suddenly had werewolf biker gangs fighting over territory and sketchy vampire politicians with a taste for teenager blood. It wasn’t always easy, but he managed to keep everyone mostly sane for six years.

‘Unfortunately, that all ended horribly a few months ago.  Fiona and Riona turned twenty one and they wanted to celebrate by going to a party at a compound near Drakesbad. Despite being a quasi-chaperone, Aedan ended up just as drunk as his sisters and the lot of them blacked out while scattered around the compound. When he came to, he was in a pool of vomit in a wooden cage along with a few others from the party. His sisters and eight other young women were naked and tied up on wooden wracks. Their screams and sobs were drowned out by the manic chanting of people dressed in greenish-grey robes with veils over their faces and bizarre wooden amulets that looked like vines or tendrils growing out of some sort of orifice. The robed cultists were forcing the young women to drink some sort of viscous white fluid that looked like a mix of milk and something that isn’t rum but might rhyme with it. Whatever the gooey white ooze was, it wasn’t a round of White Russians before hazing.

‘After half an hour or so of trying to break out of the cage, the young women began become limp and mumble incoherently. The chorus of their screams and cries faded and the chanting of cultists replaced it. One of the men in the cage with Aedan was taken out by the cultists, and despite his best hungover efforts, he was too weak to wriggle loose. They tied him down on a log altar and began bashing in his head with some sort of bone mallet and cutting chunks of him off. They raised the pieces of him, as if offering them to some unseen entity. That’s when the entity became seen. Three insectoid legs dotted with sprout-like growths and capped with hoof-like feet based by the cage. When Aedan looked up at the thing, he saw a horror that resembled a tree trunk plated with a chitin exoskeleton with a vertical maw between each pair of legs. The entity was crowned with coral-like growths that opened like barnacles and released twenty foot tendrils. The majority of the creature was a greenish-black color with burgundy tendrils. The sickening maw underneath it dripped white fluid of some sort. Was this what they were feeding the women? If he had anything left to vomit up, it would have happened in that moment.

            ‘The creature stood directly over the altar and lowered itself over the pulverized mass of flesh that used to be a man in his early twenties. As it pulled him into its maw, the tendrils reached out for the young women. Before the most nightmarish hentai rape scene in history could happen, something went wrong. Aedan couldn’t begin to understand, but the creature began groaning like a belching whale mixed with creaking wood. It rapidly rose up, pulled away from the women, and began lashing the cultists apart. The strikes of its tendrils were enough to tear off heads and they left some sort of acidic residue. The entity simply went mad and began stomping around, crushing the women, crushing the altar with one of its hooves, vomiting bile on those below it, and killing everyone near it. It smashed open Aedan’s cage with one of its legs and killed three of the men locked in with him as if they were just ants in the way. It was in a state of frenzy, but Aedan was free to escape the cage if he could bring himself to walk over the twitching corpses and gasping man that had somehow survived for a moment after having his lower half crushed.

            ‘Aedan darted over the dead and tried to reach his sisters, only to realize there was nothing left where they were bound. All there was where they were once standing were crumbled limbs, flattened meat, and bloody hair in collapsed lumps of smashed heads. No one was going to survive this. He ran despite fully expecting the rampaging horror to simply melt him apart with one of its caustic tendrils. He barely remembered running through the woods due to the shock of what he’d seen and the sickness from the hangover. He stopped running when he found a cabin and rammed through the door. The cabin was filled with bizarre sigils, grotesque trophies, and an altar with a twig effigy that resembled the creature that just slaughtered everyone, cultist and victim alike. There was also a number of bizarre bone tools, a shotgun, a pistol, some ammunition, and herbal supplements of all things. He found water in a cooler, took some supplements, and ate tube of Pringles while preparing himself mentally for going back out there on a suicide mission to bring down whatever that thing was. While preparing himself to die, Aedan noticed a bizarre leather-bound book that was the same shade of greenish-grey as the robes. He wasn’t sure what he’d do with it, but he took it with him anyway.

            ‘When he got back to the clearing, the entity was gone. There would be no dramatic death fighting the thing that stomped on his sisters like they were just worms in its way after deciding they weren’t worth raping. All he found was a delirious cultist with crushed legs and one with most of his arm melted off and an acid burn across his chest. The one that had been lashed open with a caustic tendril was just leaning against a tree while babbling incoherently. The pistol was too clean for them; he ended them with the shotgun. With no reason to remain, Aedan stumbled back to the cabin and passed out there from exhaustion, shock, and dehydration.

            ‘He felt less sick when he woke up again. He drank more water, ate more Pringles, and found some barbeque pork jerky. Aedan went out on to the step to eat the jerky and try to process what just happened. While sitting there, he heard pitiful mewling behind the cabin. Hoping one of his sisters had somehow escaped, he went behind the cabin to locate the source. He also had a firm grip on the shotgun in the event that it was a cultist or ploy by something else. The mewling was coming from a cat locked in a much-too-small wired cage an empty water and food dish. Its owners were likely dead cultists and it would die out here alone. Aedan took it with him and named it Potato after the Pomeranian he had as a kid. Aedan didn’t really remember how he got back to the city. He vaguely remembered cleaning himself up in a 7-Eleven washroom and hitch hiking. The weeks that followed were just as blurry; he took a whole month of sick leave to deal with losing his sisters and tried to drown the pain and horror with alcohol. Aedan had a rather intense conversation with his reflection in a toilet and a floating glob of vomit. If he couldn’t bring himself to live a normal life then he’d live a life fighting the cults that summoned that thing. Fight the things the cultists summon. Read the book they left in the cabin and learn about them. Kill as many as he could or die trying to stop them and others like them from doing whatever it is that they do.

            ‘Aedan studied the book about the Cult of the Mother of 1000 Young. They were a cult devoted to an outer god called Shub-Niggurath; the “goddess” of life and death. The Dark Young of Shub-Niggurath sound like they might be whatever that creature was, but it could have also be an avatar called Rhogog. The cult of the Mother of 1000 Young brings death by sacrificing men and life by offering women to be impregnated. Successful pregnancies result in creatures that aren’t fully human but rather some sort of horrible mutant. The viscous white substance is called Milk of Shub-Niggurath and it has mutagenic properties as well, though less dramatic. Potato must have been fed the stuff at some point; the cat was beginning to mutate at random and sprout tentacles from its back or a second set of eyes. Aedan couldn’t help but loathe the mutant mongrel at first, but also knew the cat had no say in becoming what it was.

            ‘The internet taught Aedan more. A cult existed in British Columbia before a creature they summoned went on a rampage and leveled an entire village. Former members and escaped survivors told their stories on hidden forums. He started getting a sense of which stories were moronic attempts at feeling special and which were genuine. A former cultist discussed the language all the Great Old One cults use; Aklo. Aklo is some sort of pre-human language that human organs can’t quite perfect but they still manage to use it in spells. Once Aedan thought he had some idea of what he was going up against, he realized the people that hunt these things don’t work alone. Hunters work with supernaturals; vampires, lycanthropes, psychics, spiritualists, and supposedly things the general public doesn’t believe in. All he had so far was a mutant cat. Where does someone go to make supernatural allies?

            ‘The forums him to other forums, and then secretive corners of the dark web where hunter job boards are hidden. The general consensus was Detroit. The city was already a dystopian Hell-hole before the Veil dropped and supernaturals began clashing openly in the streets. Now it’s littered with werewolf dens, vampire mafia operations, and most likely cults worshipping Great Old Ones. Aedan had a yard sale, put the family home up for sale, kept a few personal items and prepared to leave for Michigan. The day he left, it rained a viscous fluid for ten minutes in a localized area. The news reports claimed it was an unknown phenomena, but the dark web claimed that the analysis determined it was human amniotic fluid. In Wyoming, a steak he ordered in a road-side restaurant turned out to be a half-living calf fetus. In Iowa, his chicken burger from Oh My Lawd! rotted in his hands in all of five seconds. It was as if Shub-Niggurath, or some lesser aspect of it, had marked him. Was it mocking him? Was this it blessing Aedan in some twisted way? Every so often a bizarre event would occur around him, and always around him. It followed Aedan across two thirds of the country, and while never harmful, it was always connected to life and death. Between driving, he stopped at firing ranges to work on his shooting and spent his nights in cheap motels studying up on Kabbalist defensive magic. Once Aedan reached Michigan, he made his way to Dusty’s Roadhouse. Hunters gather here, not people after elk steaks or bloated old men that want to shoot a cougar out of a tree; supernatural hunters. Maybe he can learn a thing or two here, get some advice, and pick up some grunt work. They’re probably going to tell him to go to an occult store or a coffin club to gear up and make some friends that can grow their limbs back. Yay.’

 

-Professor V.

cαgє∂вιя∂

02/14/2019 05:05 PM 

.The Bird.

Name: Unknown
Alias: Maria
Age: Early 20's
Gender: Female
Orientation: Heterosexual
Status: Single
Home Town: Unknown.
Species: Israfeli | Human
Height: 5'2"
Weight: 115 lbs.
Hair: Chestnut.
Eyes: Indigo.
Skin: Ivory.
Distinguishable Feature(s): Vestigial wings.
Known Family: N/A.
Likes: Nature. Water. Animals. Tea. Warm things. Quiet places. Stories.
Dislikes: Getting wet. Being cold. Aggressive people. Silent places. Isolation.
Positive Traits: Observant, loyal, curious, imaginative, passionate, protective
Negative Traits: Cautious, suspicious, short-tempered, prone to violence, jealous, territorial
Quirks: Gets easily distracted. Bites nails when nervous. Hesitates before speaking. Doesn’t make direct eye contact. Occasionally talks in third person. Refuses to let anyone walk behind her. Constantly adjusting attire/appearance.

 




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