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Profiles / Yvonne Relkshire
« Last post by Carhop on July 26, 2020, 10:42:42 AM »
ESSENTIALS
Name: Yvonne Relkshire
Nickname: Evie
Apparent Age: 24 (2400)
Occupation: Apothecary / Mercenary

APPEARANCE
Yvonne’s honeybrown eyes are set on a bronze, heart shaped face; above a roman nose and below russet brows. Thick, wavy locks of copper are put half-up in a milkmaid’s braid, hiding her elongated, pointy ears. Thin lips are often painted a ruddy red, matching her eyeshadow.
Evie sports a notably ‘hipster grunge’ fashion sense, preferring plaid tops cutting off just below her narrow ribcage, lifting her Barely B’s. Full hips and thighs stretch the fabric of her distressed black or grey high rise denim, be they jeans or shorts paired with opaque tights, and sometimes sport a skater skirt. Her shoes of choice are Doc. Martens classic black leather boots with yellow piping and laces. When working, Yvonne dons a loose shirt and pair of beige coveralls.
Yvonne stands at a notable, at least among humans,  5’10”. She’s the shortest on her mother’s side of the family, though. The Half Elf’s career of hauling heavy stone cauldrons, mortars, pestles, and crates of soil have left her with toned arms and shoulders, and her  vegetarian diet combined with a love of rock climbing has left the woman fit and trim.


PERSONALITY
Curious
Reckless
Determined
Selfish
Ruthless
Vain


IMPRESSIONS
Summer bonfires and sun baked sands. Musk, damp soil, and swamp water. White-hot ambition, gold coins and ruby hilt daggers, and bubbling cauldrons. A waning moon, a cracked hourglass, a beautiful sword in its sheath. These are the things the Fortune Tellers have seen in their crystal balls with Evie as their client.
Evie carries herself in complete confidence when at rest, but is constantly rushing when on the move. She asks total strangers personal, sometimes invasive questions, giving her an air of suspicion. Burn scars and cuts along her hands and forearms will inevitably be seen by anyone who pays attention, since Evie practically talks with her hands.

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Plots / Re: Bee plots!
« Last post by Beejoux on July 02, 2020, 07:58:10 PM »
RP to-do list

Zeke:
Meet Lissa somewhere


Fletcher:
Get hurt somehow

Tucker:


Bieanna:


Zhilan:


Will:
Try to get Beau on as consultant

Val:
Move himself and Charlie to the market for safety

Keiran:
Wake up in Percy's bed
Find Kitten
One on one with Kelly
Drive Sanya around the city
Run into Corbin

Leif:
More with Cooper
Run into Sanya

Vitali:
Fight with Lissa
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Profiles / Vitali Lupybat'ko
« Last post by Beejoux on June 11, 2020, 09:21:43 PM »
ESSENTIALS
Name: Vitali Lupybat'ko
Nickname: N/A
Apparent Age: 36
Occupation: Bounty hunter for hire.


APPEARANCE
FACECLAIM: Sam Underwood
Height: 5'10"
Weight: 197lps
Eye Color: Grey/blue
Hair Color: Medium brown
Hair Style: buzzed short
Skin Color: Caucasian
Physique: Medium build with some muscle definition that speaks to a good diet or healthy life style.  Toned, but not cut.


PERSONALITY

IMPRESSIONS
It's hard to put a finger on just what it is about him that make the most sensitive among the community uncomfortable, but there is certainly something.  He looks remarkably harmless, until he doesn't.  Eyes going from sincere and warm to cold and dead in an instant.  Those that are more sensitive than others would get a sense of buzzing, restless energy, and an almost overwhelming sense of wrongness.
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Profiles / Leif Eriksdottir
« Last post by Beejoux on May 15, 2020, 02:04:03 PM »
ESSENTIALS
Name: Leif Eriksdottir
Nickname: N/A
Apparent Age: 26
Occupation: Painter, almost transient


APPEARANCE
FACECLAIM: George Blagden
Height: 5'8"
Weight: 176lbs
Eye Color: Pale blue
Hair Color: Dark brown, almost black.
Hair Style: Curly and long enough to fall into his face.  Not a style, so much as he hasn't had a haircut in a while.
Skin Color: Nordically pale.
Physique: Thin, but not scrawny.  He has gauges in his ears, a barbell through one nipple, and a a sprawling, intricate tattoo of a tree climbing up his right side from thigh to shoulder.


PERSONALITY

IMPRESSIONS
Seems remarkably human, but his paintings seem to have a life to them.  Sometimes even moving, if you know how to see.
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Roleplaying / [SOLO] Fast Food (Thor)
« Last post by Baneful on April 21, 2020, 07:55:14 PM »
Thor’s penthouse had a view of the skyline. He liked that about it, that it put him above everything else, able to see a large swathe of the city laid out at his feet, as if it was subservient, and as if it belonged solely to him. It did in a way, everything did as he saw it, all of it small and delicious and so exquisitely human. He liked looking down, because when you couldn’t fly it felt pretty close.

Black marble was the name of the game in as far as his interior decorating went, sleek minimalist lines flecked with gold and solid gold sculptures here and there, all of them depicting predatory scenes, all bared claws and dripping fangs. It did not look like the office of a man in charge of providing meat to the population, but that was what it was. There was plenty of money in slaughterhouses and wholesale, especially when you didn’t have to worry about trivial things like attending to the workforce’s human needs.

Of course most of the slaughterhouses were out in rural places in the back end of Iowa or North Carolina, but cities were where his goods ended up at the end of the supply chain. It was truly a wonderful business, and he could afford to spend his days overseeing the operation from a city that was well tailored to his specific...needs. Sometimes it was pleasant to rub elbows with his own kind in an open sort of way. Just because he hated other people didn’t mean he couldn’t get some enjoyment out of spending time with them anyway. Tearmann had its upsides.

It was a quiet evening, much like every other quiet evening and the streetlights wound a fairy light path through the streets as distant cars crawled like ants along their neat and tidy little paths.

Stepping outside, the wind licked at Thor’s long hair, bringing on the air the distant swirling scents of springtime. He had a truly fantastic sense of smell, better than his other senses by miles. He could smell colour in the way pigments and materials smelled, he could smell magic, he could smell things he didn’t even have words for. Standing here he could smell a man in the street below whose smell was swept up to him on the breeze and knew in a flash of keen knowledge that he hadn’t washed in three days, had sex two days ago and had an undiagnosed blood deficiency.

In this human form, Thor didn’t get to dress in the golden armour he preferred, instead like this it was something much simpler, finely tailored suits across his broad muscled chest and layers of restrictive clothing to control the facets of his anatomy he didn’t want to be aware of. His teeth were also restricted like this, only the set on his face able to move at all.

Dent didn’t live in Tearmann and that was a bit of a shame, it meant that on evenings like this , there was no one of a comparable intellectual level to him to spend time with. His relationship with the other demon was complicated, and he avoided dwelling too long on it, lest he slide into a state of misery. He was on his own, that was all there was to it, and he’d certainly dealt with that state of being before.

He was hungry, but let’s be honest, as a gluttony demon, he was ALWAYS hungry.

Pigs were cheap. He could slaughter hundreds of them in a week or two for chump change, but when it came to humans, those were a much, much more expensive type of meat, and of course, he had a taste for them. The additional problem was that he didn’t just want to eat ANY kind of human, he was a breeder of pedigree pigs, producer of artisanal meats. He knew what good meat was and you didn’t get good meat on industrial antibiotics and bone meal, you needed to really feed them well and treat them well. His favourite humans were adults - but not too old, beyond a certain age the meat got gamy - upper middle class, lean and fit with a diet of vegetables and exotic coffee.

He wondered if having a taste for hipsters, in turn made him one too?

The problem was though, that you didn’t simply just kidnap someone from that sort of background, irritatingly people would miss them. No one missed a homeless person, a runaway, a prostitute without a background, but they missed their trust fund raised offspring. Still, with the right money in the right places, things could be arranged.

He was still a few weeks out from his next contract though, and the hunger gnawed at him anyway.

Somewhere under his clothing there was a low growl, the sound of a stomach rumbling but larger and far more animalistic. It deepened and he turned away from the balcony’s view.

He didn’t normally go out, he didn’t like to mingle with the stink of humanity, but tonight would just need to be different. It would be one of those junk food nights, one of those nights where he chalked it up as a loss and slunk out to places he wouldn’t normally go. Dent wasn’t here and honestly, he needed sustenance in every respect.

Returning to the penthouse, he picked up his phone and dialled his secretary and arranged for the car to be brought around. He wasn’t sure where to go, but he was sure once he was out there that he’d figure something out. It was less playing it by ear and more playing it by nose.
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Profiles / Ian Gallagher
« Last post by blue on April 20, 2020, 09:43:19 PM »
ESSENTIALS
Name: Ian Gallagher
Nickname: Ian
Apparent Age: late 20s, maybe 27
Occupation: Beat Cop

APPEARANCE
Faceclaim: Sam Claflin

Ian is lanky, around 6' tall, with too-wide features that are attractive but not astounding. His teeth are just a little uneven, his hair a burnished red and his eyes green, extremely Irish. He is freckled, with big hands and long legs and very wide, broad gestures.

PERSONALITY
He is friendly but flitters like a butterfly from one person to the next, never quite committing to anyone for any length of time. In the moment, he's everyone's big brother, and he'll do everything he can to help -- aside from really committing emotionally, it seems. He smiles a big goofy smile. He'll lend you money. He'll look into a problem for you. But he absolutely never will be the one to call first.

IMPRESSIONS
Sometimes he smells like wet dog. He's extremely comfortable naked. He goes out with a lot of bimbos.
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Profiles / Thoraz
« Last post by Baneful on April 19, 2020, 07:03:17 AM »
ESSENTIALS
Name: Thoraz
Nickname: Thor
Apparent Age: It varies. Sometimes a kid, sometimes an adult.
Occupation: Slaughterhouse owner and completely legitimate Entrepreneur

APPEARANCE
Human Form
A toweringly tall man with long long dark hair and a perfect physique and a strange scar across his throat. Never seen without some manner of gold accessory on his person.
Sometimes he also appears as a small harmless boy weraring a t-shirt with a cartoony pig on it somewhere.

True Forms
https://file.toyhou.se/images/1660096_sTMx1KuhoKr1lin.jpg - Though he's even darker in hue than this.
https://file.toyhou.se/images/8593102_6nGgpKsq42K7Zuu.jpg - NSFW REFERENCE - His weirdass anatomy and mid-boar form.


PERSONALITY
Bitter and dark, with a hatred for almost everything, Thor is driven by his own goals and doesn't speak about them to almost anyone. Sometimes he can behave in ways which seem incredibly stupid.

He is known to bargain with people for what's important to them.

IMPRESSIONS
Around Thor humans are generally oblivious as to his true nature, but to magical beings, the dark energy from him seems strong enough to peel the paint from the walls. It's almost intolerable to stay around him for any length of time for other demons if they are aren't naturally tuned to cope with vast amounts of magical potential energy.

Fortunately, he doesn't seem to go out much.
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Profiles / Micah Lambert
« Last post by Prolixity on April 18, 2020, 11:39:00 PM »
ESSENTIALS
Name: Micah Lambert
Nickname: -
Apparent Age: 24
Occupation: Construction worker

APPEARANCE
Short and squarish. He has brown hair, green eyes, and wears rectangular wire framed glasses out of necessity. He prefers casual clothes and often looks slightly shabby. He has a classic star tattoo on the back of his left wrist and wears a gold hoop earring in his left ear.

PERSONALITY
Micah is irritable and prone to worry. He dropped out of high school after sophomore year to help support his father and himself, working odd jobs and construction. As a result, he has a lot of practical skills, even if he's not highly educated or well-read.

He doesn't like people to know what he cares about, but he's not very good at concealing it. He'll share what he has or what he knows, and takes pride in doing his job and contributing. However, he's not always great at getting along with people. He's easily irritated and provoked, and will yell about it. He is also impulsive, and often acts on an idea without fully thinking it through.


IMPRESSIONS
Blunt, practical, and not always kind. He feels earthy and somewhat wild to inhuman senses.
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Profiles / Jeremy Sargent
« Last post by Prolixity on April 18, 2020, 11:08:42 PM »
ESSENTIALS
Name: Jeremy Sargent
Nickname: Jer, Jay
Apparent Age: 21
Occupation: Student & barista

APPEARANCE
Tall and lean with black hair, brown eyes flecked with gold, and sharp features. He dresses neatly, liking button-downs and vests and preferring cool colors.

PERSONALITY
Jeremy tends to be laid-back and relaxed most of the time, taking life as it comes and interested in the vast variety of human and nonhuman people. He doesn't like conflict or confrontation, although when he's set his heart on something he can get extremely stubborn in pursuit of a goal. Making him angry takes a lot of effort, but when he does get angry, he may suddenly explode without warning; afterward, he may be apologetic about the blow-up, but often quietly unrepentant about the cause. He's capable of being very self-centered, but he's vaguely aware of this and tries to offset it through erratic generosity and a pleasant attitude.

IMPRESSIONS
Jeremy seems warm and friendly to most people. Supernatural individuals may sense a dual nature, something more than is immediately apparent, perhaps an animal influence.
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Roleplaying / [SOLO] A Check Up (Rep x Dexter)
« Last post by Baneful on April 18, 2020, 06:48:56 PM »
Rep had closed the bar for a day and decided that he needed to have a day off. He didn't like work, and even though he left most of the running of the bar day to day to other people, he still ended up getting called in at unexpected fucking hours of the day for some crisis or other. If it was closed, the sheer number of things which could go wrong were massively -  though not completely - diminished. He didn't want to stay indoors either when he was having a day off because for sure someone or other would ask him to do something and he just wasn't in the mood to do it. So he was going out, because out was where he wanted to fucking be right now.

Following up on leads on Dexter had come to nothing, not one fucking person in this godforsaken town had heard about the prick or his labs. He wasn't sure what he expected, the kind of people who came to bars like his weren't usually the kind of people to frequent laboratories belonging to ridiculous scientist losers.

Stepping out into the street, he immediately felt that old pull of power, the desire to just stretch out his legs - his true legs - and just fucking run and maybe kill something. But it wasn't as simple as that, nothing was ever simple, and in the city it always felt so fucking far away from forests and wide open spaces where he could tear through nature like the hunting machine that he was.

Flitting through familiar routes and alleyways he beelined to an old dive of a club, with a buzzing sign, a bouncer with a missing eye and the kind of clientele who didn't really invite humans into their midst. It wasn't a forest but with enough substances sometimes he could pretend it was, and with his vicious rejection of human comfort from any regular angle at all, he could get a little bit of intimacy in the form of feverish dancing.

It was different tonight though, he could feel it from the moment he leaned on the bar, a difference in the energy of the patrons, a bit of electric nervousness on the air, something delicious and new. It set him on edge too, and he forewent his usual hit just to keep his wits about him. He probably should have listened to that instinct and held onto it, because once the music got going and nothing major happened, he found himself tempted to just relax and before long he was a few drinks down and more besides and was in the middle of a bouncing thrashing pit of dancers, his nose numb and olfactory senses crammed up with sweat.

Towards the end of the evening he took a break, heading outside for a smoke and stepping into the piss-smelling alleyway where two people ignored him in the throes of making out over a big steel bin. He growled low in his throat and moved away from them.

"Fucking disgusting." he spat in annoyance.

Another figure stood off to one side, dressed in a long dramatic cloak and wearing what looked like a backpack underneath it, he ignored them at first, taking a long irritable draw of his cigarette which he could hardly fucking taste.

"Do you know what night it is?" the figure said, and Rep stopped with the smoke half way to his mouth, eyes wide.

"It's been five years." and a cruel, familiar chuckle. "Omega."

It was one fluid motion as Rep swung to face the figure, shifting into his much larger form in an explosion of fangs, fur and claws, but he never got to make contact with him, instead finding his strength failing him almost immediately and slumping helplessly to the other man's feet.

Dexter stepped over the prone form. "It's time for your checkup." he said as more waiting bodies emerged from the shadows. "Bring him back to me." he said.


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