• This section is for roleplays only.
    ALL interest checks/recruiting threads must go in the Recruit Here section.

    Please remember to credit artists when using works not your own.

Realistic or Modern 𝗟𝗔𝗭𝗔𝗥𝗨𝗦 𝗖𝗜𝗧𝗬 ; 𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑖𝑑𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑠.

Lore
Here
Other
Here
erzulie

erzulie

cheers for spring; for life; for a growing soul
Hello! Welcome to our character creation thread. This time, we're gonna be doing things a little differently. Instead of full character sheets, we'd like for you to post below what we'll call a character blurb or concept. As we've said before, unfortunately this roleplay is not first come first served, but we do still want the character creation process to be collaborative and communicative! Give us the vibes of your character, a quick synopsis.

Please note that we will require some basics - at the very least, tell us your character's name (or alias), age, gender, appearance (irl face claims or written description only) and personality. Anything else is optional, but if you'd like to use this as a chance for any creative free flow writing about your character, go for it!

If you can't think of what else to add, here's a few ideas: Your character's motivations, if they're new to the city or local, do they affiliate with any gangs, are they human or another species?

As we've said before, you can basically go buck wild with your characters, and we're hoping to see a wide gamut of diversity and creativity. Please don't feel restricted to the species we have listed so far, any supernatural species from any culture is fair game (and if you have any worries, ask us about what's okay to do!). And please be mindful writing about cultures you're not familiar with and do your research. Refer to the lore thread to read up about each different species.


LAZARUS CITY.
CHARACTERS ; DUE DATE: to be determined.
code by birth of venus.
 

PURITY IS A CONSTRUCT MADE TO SHAME YOU, YOU NEED NOT TO BE CLEAN TO BE DIVINE.​


unholy unions, serrated knife smile adorned in blood soaked gemstones, eyes so many eyes, an ever shifting form, night sky skin and twinkling glitter stars, beckoning eyes, whispered words in a language dead and gone, the feeling of being hunted, distorted shadows, white feathers caught between teeth, family portraits that smile back, picnics in graveyards, ancient knowledge passed from daughter to daughter - human skin tomes, moonlit nights, a ring of soot and the smell of sulfur, hushed phrases, red doors within dark alleys, be not afraid, porcelain saints knocked over, god has turned a blind eye, your angels have abandoned you, - born after the holy took to the skies in the hundreds and the damned came out to play - the hellish spawn of a great duke of the ars goetia and a satanic supreme - delilah rue was born without breath and no heartbeat to speak of - the first in her coven to leave the city - she returned even worse than before - a mere drug dealer at first - her creations highly sought after - now the underworld of lazarus is hers - she rules in the form of controlled chaos - beware the imps and the hounds - she is their mistress - find her within the clubs behind the red doors - strike a deal if you dare

【abilities】
• summoning - delilah is able to summon lesser demons, also known as imps. she can do the same with hell hounds. her imps are used to spy and gather or send information. she’s able to look through their eyes and sense what they sense. the hellhounds are often sent to hunt people down and bring them to her. the monstrous beings often move through the shadows to travel.

• supernatural condition - she’s more durable than humans. delilah’s senses are enhanced, from her being able to see in the dark to hear things that are far away. her strength is also enhanced, as well as her stamina, agility, speed, and healing. she can heal from mundane wounds and illnesses with ease, taking up to a few minutes to a few hours. delilah is indeed strong due to her demonic blood and her acceptance of both halves of herself, but she is not as strong as a full demon.

• demonic magic - as the daughter of a demon and satanic witch, magic comes easy to her. delilah specializes in magic of the left-handed sort, she’s someone who is very knowledgeable about her craft. delilah has a number of tomes containing knowledge on the dark and demonic arts.

• transmutation - delilah can teleport from one place to another with her mind. in order to do this she needs to have a clear image of the place she wants to teleport in her mind. the only way that she doesn’t need to do this is if she’s being summoned by another with the use of her symbol and the correct incantation.

• hell-fire manipulation - delilah can summon black flames that come straight from the pits of hell. these flames cannot be extinguished by normal means, they can only be put out or repelled by holy items like water and crosses. her flames cause more damage as they attack both the body and soul, making recovering a slow process. these flames are hard to control, thus delilah can only summon so much at a time before the strain is too much.

【drawbacks】
• holy objects - holy objects have the ability to hurt depending on how she’s exposed to it. items like crosses, holy water, and rosaries burn her when they come into contact with her skin. blessed silver weapons are capable of doing a lot of damage to her demonic half. she is unable to enter churches or any other sacred places, if she’s placed into one she becomes weaker.

• demon’s circle - demons are usually summoned with the use of sigils and salt, creating a circle that can trap them in order to force them to do something for the summoner. delilah is no different and can be summoned using this method. unless the circle is broken or she’s sent back to wherever she was with the correct phrase she cannot leave the circle. this is why she keeps her symbol and phrase to herself. only a select few people know of it

• trap sigil - there are certain symbols that can be placed within an area to trap demons and hybrids. once stepped in the area, where the circle is above or below them, the being is unable to leave. delilah can leave a demon circle but it zaps her energy, leaving her extremely drained and in need of replenishing the energy.


delilah.
code by birth of venus.
 
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IN THE MOST BIBLICAL SENSE,
I AM BEYOND REPENTANCE.​

piles of dusty gold jewelry, quellazaires, long hair spun from bronze, a second mouth smiling wide like a wound across her chest, power suits, the clacking of heels between church pews, unholy sacrament, snobbery, spilled wine and gluttonous banquets, neglectful parents, ballroom dancing, gossip rags and rumors, god speaks to you from under your fingernails but you paint them anyways—

betsabé mariá absolo santos is the 25 year old italian-mexican half-blood mutt daughter of an old money rich heiress to excellon co., a ceo who made the wrong deal with the wrong angel and - to keep her status - birthed betty as a result. born in lazarus city but never staying in one place, betty's childhood bedroom was a private cabin in their personal jet until she got older and her mother decided to marry a new young thing every so often. it was hard for humans to look beyond the glamour of the divine. they used that to their advantage.

she's the type of girl that grew up in an uphill battle to be noticed and given attention. sure, she was filthy rich - went to the best school in the country that money could buy, flexed her wings and adorned her neck with jewels that could feed a family of five for months, excelled in academics and socially dug her claws into the world to prove her worth. but she was a mutt, through and through, and she's fucking bitter about it. in her mother's eyes, she was tainted, wasted potential and unworthy of having inhabited her womb. betty has always craved the status and respect granted to her mother.

but, miraculously, betty came out much different than her mother. she couldn't stand her cutthroat way of life. born from the divine, much of her early life and into her teen years had been spent being a god honoring daughter. that, at the very least, was the only way she could connect to her mother. the only times they shared amicable silence was sitting together in the church pews, prayers made by breath reeking of liquor and cigarettes. she's always worn a cross on her neck, and a rosary in her back pocket. against all odds, she believed god had a purpose for her. why else would he allow her to exist? how many other half-human angels were there out in the world? truly, she had no idea.

she worked, and worked, and worked, 'til her mother tired of her endless blabbering and got her a good job working for their very own company. maybe some acknowledgment was what betty truly needed, because she blossomed when finally given something to work with. betty was nothing if not obsessive and thorough. organized, crafty, intelligent, but oh so naïve and oh so nice. everything so far had been handed to her on a silver platter. betty didn't know just yet how much the lord would test her resilience and will.

she loved her job in the financial branch of excellon - until she accidentally discovered a major embezzlement scheme, and promptly got fired and all but disowned by her cold mother.

now she's back home, in a city full of potential.

betsabé a.s.
code by birth of venus.
 
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  • BEAUTY IS TERROR. WHATEVER
    WE CALL BEAUTIFUL, WE
    QUIVER BEFORE IT.    ​

    there is power in creation, just as there is power in destruction. when the party is over, once the music finally stops and she walks home with her high heels in hand, cleo exercises both sides of the coin. she digs her teeth into flesh, plays the winning card in poker, smiles behind a faux sweet face of makeup and excitement, and waits. rome was not built in a day, and her throne in lazarus city was not waiting for her arrival. she forged it herself. hand in hand with her brother, they built their empire from the ground up, years of meticulous work. eternity is a lesson in patience, after all.

    there was a scared young woman once, somewhere in there. over a thousand years of existence is almost too much memory, too much of a burden to bear, but cleo still holds onto what she can from her earliest moments of being born into early korean nobility. the moments before her skin turned to stone, and the sun became an enemy. by twenty years old, she had been turned - and turned her own brother in a frenzy of hunger. the only blessing to come out of it was having her brother alongside her for so long now. cleo is a multifaceted woman who is extremely careful about how people perceive her - humans are fascinating fickle creatures, useful in ways that both sate her lunchtime hunger and like little worker ants helping stabilize the foundation of her life's work. therein lies bounds of amusement and ways to pass over the years, watching as their little imaginations surpassed anything she had imagined. her vice is opulence. she wants- no, needs- to have the very best in life. they earned it, after all.

    those who think they know cleo typically imagine her as a party girl, a flighty young thing who only cares about her next hit of devil's tongue. and sure, there is some truth to that sentiment. cleo loves the chance to have a good time. but there is much behind the scenes that she keeps hidden, and those with a keen eye might see beyond that sweet fun persona she typically wears.

    cleo ambrose
    code by birth of venus.


WHY ARE YOU SO SCARED OF
FEELING PAIN, BITCH?​

if cleo was the sin of gluttony, bellamy's would be pride. his ego, like his temper, know no bounds. to many, bellamy is simply the man on top. the kingpin of the city, wearing an aloof face adorned by sunglasses and crisp suits and expensive watches. they earned their place atop the throne, and he'd be damned if he'd ever move for anybody except for his sister. the ambrose mafia is his greatest pride, and cleo is his greatest weakness. he's spent centuries alongside her, and while cleo did not need protection, there was an unspoken pact between the blood siblings that they truly needed each other. he is the face of their clan, their outwards presentation to the world. behind the curtain, cleo runs the show. she is the brains, and bellamy is the brawn.

with a temper so horrible it precedes his reputation, bellamy a man well acquainted with a hard day's work and blood under his fingernails. he's the attack dog of their clan - with insurmountable strength and sharp teeth, he has eviscerated their competition before and would happily do so again. perhaps where he feels most human is when he's capable of great violence, the act of causing pain reminding him of what he once had, futile mortality. but those moments are reserved for closed doors and derelict basements. in his day to day life, many would think of bellamy as a flipped switch. poised, quiet, calculating. a businessman in all respects, typically seen at his desk pouring over their financials and balancing their accounts. he enjoys neat whiskey, cigarettes, cold early mornings, nice cars - he may think that he and cleo are like night and day, but the siblings are alike in many respects, such as their love for the finer things in life. the only difference is that bellamy is happy to get his hands dirty.

bellamy ambrose
code by birth of venus.
 
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V.
the undoer
scroll.















I duckinf hatw you
ghostemane



writing on a wall; a warning:

there's a jagged edge, like a wound that's been torn open again and again - the scabbed skin pulled off leaving it ready to scar. the stranger that stares at you from afar, leaving you shaking, looking for them long after they've left. but those piercing eyes remain over you and you wonder if they'll be there at the foot of the bed tonight. a tortured artist, but really they like to just torture. when he smiles, you wish he didn't because it's worse than any snarl or nashing of teeth he could ever do. bloody fingers from being picked at too much, what the hell does he have to be nervous about? breath a mixture of smoke and mint. a wolf parading as a sheep, sometimes forgetting he was even playing at all. a knife that keeps stabbing into the wood to ease a trigger finger. the black around his eyes are stained now from how much horror he as caused and seen. his lips are always dry, but he'd rather drink liquor than water. he'd sell you out if he could.

an old document filed away in coven archives:

march 3rd. portland, oregon. lucien hughes is born. he is the youngest of three siblings. all magic. long family history of healers and potion makers. father a respected figure in the community. age 11. lucien comes into his own. had believed his core power to be like his family's with healing. family massacred during the ceremony. bodies looked to be as though they were dissected or pulled apart. core power proves to be that of decimation or the undoing. the rare and unstable ability to cause both organic and inorganic forms to be taken apart, piece by piece. lucien hughes was left in a coma for 3 months after his family's deaths. hughes is taken into grandmother's custody and kept a close eye on within the coven. his power of decimation proved useful in curse work and the boy has taken a liking to it. with training, the boy could be able to control it, but his continued aggression and emotional outbursts made progress difficult. prolonged use of decimation with multiple targets appears to cause extreme pain for hughes, often ending in the boy collapsing and being bedridden for several days. only strongly magically imbued potions seemed to alleviate lucien's pain, but not long enough lasting to completely dull the chronic pain. hughes was caught many times stealing several bottles from the coven healer in an attempt to stop his suffering as his grandmother attested on his behalf. an estranged family member was seen arguing with hughes' grandmother. a week later she was later found decimated and lucien was declared missing. his current whereabouts are unknown.

several journal entries, much of it unintelligible:

24 years old and what to show for it? they want a curse specialist and a guard dog. I can be both, but I don't want to. don't don't don't. the city feels worse. only been 5 years here. feels longer. I think my eyes are getting bluer. that's funny. the word.

saw this woman earlier. she was pretty. I wanted to tell her but she left in a hurry when I got close. maybe I should try dudes again. they act the same but I

anyway

some old dude wants me to come by. said there's a curse on this wardrobe he got from a friend. I think the friend iron maidened that shit from what he told me. probably wants to kill him, I would too. dude kept talking and talking and talking bout shit and then yelled at his neighbor about keeping her whorehouse quiet at night. rude. whatever, pay will be good since the thing is fuckin huge. made of that old wood. wonder where the friend got it anyway. my room used to have that stuff too. lily was always stealing my shit


I dont like writing in here.

it's good for you, luc. focuses the mind, luc. yeah yeah

I need more milk

and a new jacket. they owe me one after last time. fucking took me out after blasting the whole room full of those wolves. I told them it hurts when it's more than 3 at once. not to mention the wards their witch had on the place. goddamn. I loved that jacket.

gotta wrap this up. next door kid is knocking. parents probably at it again. ill take him to park today, let him practice his leaf plant thing there. hope he doesn't ask for help with math again. ill cry for sure this time

bye : ( : )



GALLERY​










lucien hughes.


designed by bad ending. & coded by xayah.ღ
 
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  • 04
    03
    02
    general
    lapis
    true name
    ——————
    name
    Lapis Liu
    gender
    Female, she/her
    sexuality
    Bisexual
    date of birth
    December 7th
    occupation
    Hostess
    lapis liu — the fae
    age.
    Appears to be in her mid-twenties. Is around a hundred, give or take a couple decades.

    the fae.
    A somewhat mysterious species, and one of the rarer ones in Lazarus city, most of what’s known of them is as much rumor as it is fact. Some would say that is their nature, hovering in a constant state of both truth and lies, both beauty and terror, both there and not. It’s said the fae don’t quite see the world like everyone else does, their interpretations of truth and beauty and even the passage of time warped, or perhaps uncovered, by their magical essence. Many fae have their own forms of magic, yet share many common weaknesses. Although many fae’s powers are tuned to the natural world, some connect instead to the city, the magic warping to fit the modern world. It’s said to watch for places where the cobblestones in the pavement have shifted to form circles or when just one streetlight in a row of many is on, listen for the sound of bells, look for where the smoke rising from chimneys or lightning during thunderstorms forms shapes or flickers in color, and of course, be wary of strangers appearing in otherwise empty streets.

left
-->
 
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XI.
the dragon
scroll.















up the wolves
the mountain goats

VISAGE
NAME: emrys gwyn
NICKNAMES: vakkrul of the night sky
AGE: around 300 years old (although she hasn't been keeping track)
PRONOUNS: she/they
ORIENTATION: bisexual
SPECIES: dragon shifter

APPEARANCE
APPEARANCE: Standing at 5'9", Emrys is much stronger than she looks. Her amber gaze is sharp, cold, almost reptilian, although if one were to touch her hands they would find her always warm, no matter the weather. She prefers masculine clothing, often wearing jeans and some ragged-old tshirt with an ancient leather jacket. She is frequently seen smoking cigarettes, regardless of the company or circumstances. Despite her non-impressive frame, she posture nearly always displays confidence and power to an intense degree. Even in human form, her teeth seem... a little too sharp...

Her draconic form is a European dragon, one with four legs, two wings, and a tail. She has black scales, and her eyes turn to having a reptilian slit.
FACECLAIM: aimi kash

PSYCHE
PERSONALITY: Emrys is used to being alone. She likes it that way. Not that there are many dragons around anymore, anyways. Not even that - she resents anyone who isn't a dragon. She's had her fair share of "seemingly-kind-benefactors" who have turned against her as soon as they found out she was a monster. She believes most people are selfish and are out to either use her or kill her, so she is selfish herself, really only agreeing to do work as long as she gets paid for it. She's not afraid of getting her hand dirty, either.

The only person on her good side right now is her landlord, weirdly enough. The old woman doesn't exactly know what Emrys is, and she wants to keep it that way. But she treats her to soup and employed her at her flower shop she runs on the ground floor of their apartment building, and she's nearly as stubborn as Emrys herself. So the dragon holds some begrudging respect to the human lady for that.

Not that she'd ever admit it to another living soul (or undead, if you wanna debate about the status of vampires), but she likes the companionship the old woman brings. She's really quite lonely.

Even though she's not socially very high up on the ladder of Lazarus City, her name drifts around like The Boogeyman, and she likes the intimidation it brings. In the absence of respect, she'll take fear.

TRAITS
POSITIVE: honest, protective, independent, persistent
NEGATIVE: stubborn, arrogant, hotheaded, compulsive

LIKES
heights, the wind in her hair, meat, smoking, books, her trinkets, music, food

DISLIKES
annoying people, wet dog smell, being told what to do, not having money, snow, iPhones and apps, swimming, lightning and electricity

FEARS
dying, the future, technology, guns and cannons, her stuff being taken


HISTORY
"The Age of Dragons has long passed us, young one. There are no wrong answers for survival; fight tooth and nail against the coming era, or adapt to it."

These words spoken by the last dragon Emrys encountered still haunt her. At the time it was a massive dissapointment, a blow to the gut that knocked the wind out of her sails. He was the third dragon she has ever gotten to meet - alive, that is. The third she could talk to. The fifth, if you count the dead ones she's seen. The ones killed by human - or non-human - hands, bodies flayed and dissected. Bones bleached and skin leathered.

You see, dragons have a nasty reputation attached to them. Huge in stature, immensely strong and with the ability to breathe fire, dragons are regarded as the ultimate predator. The nature of humanity, however, is not one to back down from a challenge of that magnitude. So despite their power, their bribery of riches or knowlege, their attempts at political coercion by holding a princess or two at ransom - the knights come, the monster hunters come, the armies come, and they slay the dragon. One after the other. The growth of mankind swallows the forests and mountains, the cities eating away at the nature until there is no more room for the once-great predators to hide.

While the young Emrys did not understand the elder dragon's words, she grew to know the truth behind it instead. Rather than a predator, she turned herself into a scavenger. As a dragon, she delighted in the freedom of flight and would pick away at the farmer's cattle, while as a human she would masquerade as the sheep in the flock. This did not always work, however; bony fingers would point to her, and she would be forced to either raze the city to the ground or flee like a rabbit from the slaughter. She's had her fair share of both; the experiences blended together into a fog in her memory, so much of her life has been running or fighting for the gift of running another day.

Then came Lazarus City. The safehaven, she's heard whispers among the other non-humans, who find themselves as wolves in sheeps clothing like her. For a brief while, her initial tenure in Lazarus was hopeful, but it quickly became apparent that her days as a wolf were long gone. While communities formed and bonded over their shared struggles, Emrys was left so pathetically alone. She roamed the streets alone, less of a wolf and more of a flea-bitten hound collared to humanity.

The city was not built for her, in more ways than one. This fact was most apparent in the infrastructure of the city.

The first time she had an incident, she fully expected she would have to fight or flee. Die or run. This was the way it was before. However, this city is unusual. She was sent home, a finger-wag and a scolding. Emrys' confusion kept her up throughout the night that day. One thing she had learnt in her life is that there are always costs to everything.

That cost came several days later, in an exorbitant bill delivered to her cramped apartment.

Another reputation that dragons have come to acquire is that they amass a large amount of gold. If this was true of Emrys, it certainly is not anymore. Bill-after-bill is delivered to her mailbox every week. Rent. Utilities. Damages to the carpark she landed on. Damages to the utility pole she got tangled up in. Antenna replacement for the office building she clipped her wing on. The lawsuit from the residents of that apartment building she burned down. It's a lot more than what her shitty job working at the florist shop can cover.

So... maybe she does some other work here-and-there. She doesn't really care who it's for as long as she gets paid. Beating guys up, giving them a scare, eating them - whatever. Vampires or werewolves alike tend to bring her in as extra muscle. Dragons have a nasty reputation behind them. She gets the job done. Like a good mutt.

Just don't go so far to say she's tamed. If anything, she resents being collared, despite them taking care of her IOUs. Surely the werewolves should understand when they complain of the car she landed on how her shoulderblades ache with her wings just below the taut muscles, begging for release. Surely the vampires should understand when they inform her of another farmer's complaint of stolen bull how her hunger wracks her body, rarely satiated.

But they look at her and see a guard dog. They look at her and know the world was built for them, and not for dragons. They look at her and see a thing of the past, a thing to be used as a weapon.

She dreams that one day she will raze the city to the ground. To burn it down in a blaze of hellfire. To show them that the past can come back to haunt, with teeth so sharp and claws that tear. To show them what an untamed thing she is.

But, for now, she bides her time in her one bedroom apartment, languishing in her trinkets and memories from times long past, and scraping together some semblance of payment for the debt collector every month. There is no correct way to survive, and sometimes fighting tooth and nail is adapting to whatever the present has become, even if it is not built for you.

POWERS
Emrys was born as a dragon, and grew to have the ability to turn into a human. Whether she is part-human, part-dragon is unknown, as her parents were presumably killed before she hatched.

In her human form, Emrys possesses higher-than-average strength and the ability to withstand fire. She is able to shift partway, giving her scaly hands and claws, sharp fanged teeth, and reptilian-slit eyes. However, her wings and the ability to breathe fire are both relegated to just her full-dragon form.

Her dragon form is towering and impressive, roughly 7 ft. tall from the ground to her back and 18 ft. from her nose to tail. However, despite its strength and intimidation, the size of her dragon form is... unwieldy for a metropolitan city like Lazarus. It might be more convenient to live in some rural town where she can stretch her wings without causing structural damage to an office building, but she's tried that before; frankly, with the lack of spells to hide her presence or magical police/mafia coverups, suspicion quickly travels in small towns, and she'd rather not be killed by a mob of angry peasants. As her draconic name suggests, she also is often relegated to taking her form at night due to how obvious it would be in the daylight - the dark color of her scales also aids her in this natural camoflague. While not strictly nocturnal, this habit causes her to be more of a night-owl.

The biology of her draconic form also affects her human one. She needs more protein and calories than the average person, in part due to the energy required to transform into her giantantic size. Because of this, during her flights, she often flies to a nearby rural town and steals and eats cows or horses while in her full-dragon form to satiate her hunger. She also cannot remain in human form for too long, else she gets restless and extremely uncomfortable if she goes too long without transforming into a dragon.

Turning into her dragon form is immensely draining, costing a lot of energy to do so. As such, she is unable to turn into a dragon and immediately switch back to her human form, or vice-versa. As it stands, Emrys has discovered that she when she shifts she must commit to that form for at least an hour before she is able to shift again. Likewise, the physical strain of shifting limits the number of shifts she is able to do in a given time frame. Emrys has come to realize she can comfortably shift about three times a week: human-to-dragon-to-human, before resting for the next cycle. Summoning her claws does not count as a full shift, but a cycle of partial-claw-shift to returning back to her normal human form sans-claws leaves her feeling physically exerted, akin to running a mile... on top of whatever other physical altercation she may have gotten into when she summoned those claws.





emrys gwyn.


designed by bad ending. & coded by xayah.ღ
 
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thedailychronicles.com/news/trending/silver-crest-slaying





HEADLESS MAN SLAYS A DOZEN VAMPIRES
An unidentified man has been decapitated outside a local club on Silver Crest Blvd with enough weapons to murder an army of vampires. Police have confirmed multiple vampires' remains on the crime scene and believe this unidentified man killed them.

(click for full story)






Search




THE STORY OF THE LITTLE GIRL.

The young girl would impatiently wait for all the other children to fall asleep in the cramped bedroom. She crept, nestling herself in the bay window with her worn blanket in hand. She would shut her eyes tight and try desperately to remember her mother's face, her touch...her warmth. Yet, no matter how hard she thought she couldn't remember any of it.

She would spend the next six years in that damn house, under the "supervision" and "care" of a horrible woman who greedily snatched up other abandoned children for their government benefits. The immoral woman would even occasionally sell a child to a vampire or two for a pretty penny. The girl doesn't like to recall those years.

When the girl turned eleven, her hero finally arrived, clad in blue and with a shiny badge. He found the young girl shielding all the other children, as though ready to sacrifice herself for them. Observing the poor living conditions of the children and ghastly rumours, they arrested the women and placed the children in child protection services.

Her hero, Officer Ian Monroe, and his wife decided to adopt the young girl.

That is when Mercy was born and the girl was no more.

THE STORY OF MERCY.

Mercy was raised by Ian and Evelyn, a charitable and loving couple who nurtured Mercy's want to help those in need. She excelled in school with the support of her guardians and they knew she was destined to make a change in the world.

Considering her prior living situation, Mercy struggled to connect emotionally with peers and avoided intimacy. She always referred to Ian and Evelyn by their names and while she was eternally grateful, they weren't her parents. In Mercy's eyes, this wasn't malicious, if anything, it was for the benefit of her guardians.

Most of her teen years were spent volunteering at local shelters, and soup kitchens and doing what she could for those in need in Lazarus City.

Graduating with honours, Mercy initially followed Evelyn's steps by studying law in the hopes of becoming a lawyer. Yet, after a year of study, she realised her morals were in jeopardy and decided she was a better fit to study criminal justice and criminology. After countless sleepless nights and a mild caffeine addiction, Mercy received her bachelor and felt the next logical step was police academy.

Six months later, Mercy was transferred to the Lazarus City Police Department in the Silver Crest Boulevard precinct. The first few months were spent chained to a desk and completing menial tasks that the other officers didn't want to do. Well, it didn’t help Mercy had a hard time saying no.

Eventually, she was assigned a partner in the form of a senior officer, Abigail Gálvez, who begrudgingly to Abigal was responsible for training the rookie.

A few nights ago, the two were patrolling the district and accepted a request for first responders to attend to a civilian's distress call. Upon arrival, Mercy was stunned by the massacre that had occurred; decapitated corpses and piles of ash littered the room with a single man laying in the centre, a bloody weapon in hand.

That is how Oscar entered Mercy's life.

THE STORY OF OSCAR.

Oscar doesn't remember much before his death. He remembers the vicious battle that ensued, with his deft blade slicing through their necks like butter. Eventually, he was overrun by them, swarming him and...killing him.

His spirit left his body, yet he wasn't ready to give up on this mortal world. He was filled with rage and unresolved hatred that burnt bright. He needed revenge for something he couldn’t recall.

That is when she approached. His dislocated spirit was waning and needed a body - her body - and quick.

Oscar wasted no time possessing the young woman's body but was met with resistance. She fought hard against his invasion, which left the two fused together in a constant power struggle for control of the mortal's body.

He couldn't explain how, but he knew after his vengeance was completed he would abandon the young woman's body and ultimately this mortal world but for now...he had some vengeance to enact.

All he knew was that his vengeance and unbridled rage were for those blood-sucking parasites who took everything from him.

WHO IS MERCY MONROE?

A law-abiding, stick-in-the-mud, Mercy is a selfless and brave soul who is determined to help those around her. She has high morals and tries to be honest at all times, even if it leads to negative consequences. Some may say she is a brown-noser or conceited but Mercy keeps her achievements to herself and is quite humble.

She is very hardworking but definitely borders on overworking; a true workaholic, Mercy often neglects her own needs and wants. Some may describe her as a doormat or too eager to please but she is firm on her way of life. Don't even try to sway her mind about bending the rules. This leaves her easy to read and predictable.

Socially, Mercy has trouble connecting with people on a more personal level. She lacks the tact and experience to deal with an individual's emotions and is unfamiliar with intimacy which makes her shy away from it. It doesn't help that Mercy isn't particularly forthcoming about her own life and is often reserved about her past and emotions.

Her nativity and dogmatic attitudes towards how the world works halt Mercy from achieving real change in the world - especially considering the corruption that lies in Lazarus City. She is definitely in over her head and coupled with her impulsive nature to do good without thinking, this rookie is bound to make mistakes. Maybe Oscar will be able to help unlock her untapped potential or will he damn her soul?












lazaruscitypd.com/files/officers/monroe



NAME

Mercy Monroe.

NICKNAME/S

"Affectionally" is called Rook or Rookie by peers but prefers Monroe.

AGE

Twenty-three. Born on 6th April.

OCCUPATION

Junior officer at the Lazarus City Police Department (LCPD) in the Silver Crest Boulevard Precinct.

SPECIES

Just your everyday human. Well not entirely anymore. Mercy is being possessed by a clinging spirit or more well-known as a "dybbuk". He prefers to be called Oscar.

POWERS

- limbo. a toe dipped in both the living and the dead, oscar has the ability to communicate with other troubled spirits and even certain departed spirits.

- vengeance. oscar's unbridled rage allows him to push mercy's body to its limits and make her faster, stronger and endure more pain than she naturally can. oscar's skillset for fighting and profound reflexes are also transferred to mercy's body.

- undetectable. other species seemingly have trouble determining the existence of a spirit possessing mercy which makes others believe she is merely human. oscar hopes this will work to their advantage as she is not seen as a threat.

WEAKNESSES

- unstable. oscar and mercy are constantly fighting for control over her body which makes it impossible for one or the other to be in complete control for a long period of time.

- memory. having two consciousnesses stuffed into one head isn't healthy for the brain. mercy's long-term memory is being adversely affected as oscar pieces together more of his own memories.

- attached. unfortunately for mercy, the spirit has a contingency plan to ensure his vengeance will be completed before he is dispelled from mercy. a tight grip on her heart, if he was to be exorcised it would mean the end of mercy's mortal life as well. it seems the two are stuck with each other.







/* ------ credit -- do not remove ------ */

© weldherwings.

 
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nina tengoku
















succubus




former almost-olympian










♡coded by uxie♡








STRETCH. LIMIT.
BREATHE. REPRIEVE.​


FULL NAME: Antoinina Tengoku
ALIAS: Nina, Niña

AGE: Twenty-four
GENDER: cis-female

FACECLAIM: Devon Aoki
APPEARANCE: A 4’10’’ sprite of a woman; a mass of pink flesh and tawny fluff. A bird born premature, born without wings, and yet, she still waits to dry. A beauty in the macabre and twisted, in the abandoned and dark. Blessed with unnatural beauty,

SPECIES: a LILIN, technically, but more commonly understood as a SUCCUBUS

IN-DEPTH:
A succubus is the spawn of a demon. In Nina’s case, she is the child of Lilith, making her one of the Lilin, night-wraiths who attack men in the night in order to create more cambion (i.e. spawn of demons; colloquially, the Lilin understand these creatures to be more like cousins whereas they are the children of Lilith). This is not the only reason why Lilith continues, after all these hundreds of thousands of years, to create more children. No one knows her exact intentions, but there are rumors of an instance, at the dawn of humanity, where she was abandoned to Hell. Some, especially those of more angelic origin, might be wary of the Lilin due to this, as though they are her soldiers from when their mother exacts a revenge that has brewed since time began. However, it is reasonable to expect that humans have a limited understanding of Lilith, especially because Lilith practices monogamy, appearing human, when she’s raising one of her children. For this reason, too, there is a distinction between cambion and Lilin.

Because of their demonic origin, Lilin have similar cravings to a vampire, though this is more so a biological response spurred on by inherent desire to create more cambion. By and large, Lilin can appear human all their life, especially as they can eat human food (in fact, it is necessary). The main distinction, the thing that makes them inhuman, is their devout loyalty that is unavoidable; it is burned into their skin, in their DNA.

ABILITIES:
— NIGHT-ENHANCEMENT
Under the cover of darkness, Nina becomes strengthened, has increased agility, and is damn-near invincible. Additionally, she shows more of her monstrous qualities, even if she does not intend to do so. As such, night is the best time for her to attack a victim.

— MONSTROUS QUALITIES
Akin to a shapeshifter, Nina takes on more eldritch qualities when hungry, rising in varying degrees depending on her hunger and the stage she is in during her feeding. Oftentimes, her teeth form sharp fangs, starting out small (akin to a vampire’s) ranging to sabertooth-large. Her fingernails are constantly in a state of sharp, blackened claws, though typically, these seem like natural nails with black polish. When in a heightened state, they transform into longer, bird-like claws. Finally, her body can sprout black, spiky feathers, turning her eyes into crow’s black abysses, and sprouting horns akin to Baphomet.

Typically, she kills when her jaw unhooks, consuming her victim akin to a snake.

— GLAMOURING
Though unable to hide her full monstrous forms, Nina’s appearance changes to match a person’s most desirable form. The mechanics of this ability work more so like a form of magical mental control as opposed to a form of physical control. For the first twenty years of her life, this was an uncontrollable ability, resulting in everyone seeing a different version of herself depending on their desires. Presently, she is more capable of controlling the glamouring, almost as though she can turn down its effectiveness, typically presenting to others much like her ‘true’ form but perhaps with a different hair color or eye color, etc.

DRAWBACKS:
Besides many of the above abilities being outside of her control, Nina is also of human mortality outside of the night, particularly when she is in broad sunlight. Additionally, she experiences heightened hunger after a prolonged lack of feeding, resulting in an increased likelihood of her Lilin form breaking through. Heightened emotions can also cause a similar effect, resulting in dastardly consequences that she does not often remember (or if she does, she will not admit to it). Finally, she can only feed off of those who are attracted to her and only those who identify as male; she can, of course, kill others but she does not derive much-needed sustenance from them.

PERSONA —
cold, spritely, daydreamer, dark, her actions speak louder than words, easily overstimulated, quiet, surprisingly clingy, neurotic, observant, internally chaotic, outwardly serene, impassive, stubborn, unrelenting, seemingly incapable of empathetic, possessive, logical, the end goal above everything (even herself), flirtatious as a nervous habit and natural inclination, stressed

—
HISTORY NOTES —

— born to Lilie Engelmeir, a German heiress, and Tengoku Hirohiko, a former Olympic skater that was riding high off the most recent Games and visiting Munich.
— her father, Hirohiko, pushed her into sports at a young age; a classic tale. He never stepped onto the podium, and he saw potential in his child.
— quickly, it became apparent that Nina was perfect for gymnastics, and it became her sport of choice from then on.
— around 12, Nina woke up to her mouth full with sabertooth fangs; her mother explained the origins of such an issue, and though manipulative tactics, her mother convinced her to keep it secret from her father.
— at 13, her mother began to teach her how to feed, who to choose and why, etc.
— at 14, Nina realized her mother had a schedule to her feeding, spotting her exchanging money with a strange man.
— at 15, she stalked her mother for two months, discovering that she maintained two other families across Lazarus City. With one, she accomplished this through the guise of a divorce and for the other, she simply worked ‘night shifts’.
— at 16, she began to trial for the Olympics. She failed to qualify, and this resulted in isolation from both her mother and her father, blaming her failure on the lack of focus over the past year. Working long hours to train for next year, Nina finally broke and told her mother what she knew. Lilie told her daughter, “Did you stop to consider why you’re the one I spend the most time with? You have the most potential.”; the true nature of her existence came out in this conversation. It became an unavoidable truth that Nina existed as a footsoldier for her mother, for their livelihood, with the promise that the body that yielded to other’s desires would be hers once Lilith reigned again.
— The next two years resulted in Nina working for her mother, feeding off souls and sending them below to become cambion. Then and now, she still has a limited understanding of what she was doing. Beyond this, she began to work in tandem with her siblings known as Imogene, Geraldine, Puck, and Larric. They created a mostly work-based relationship, cold and unyielding towards the others. This is a time of great isolation for Nina, especially as her father pushes her more and more, stretching herself thin. He does not understand her lack of focus, unaware of what she does at night.
— Late into her 18th year, Nina tried out for the Olympics again. She was one spot away from qualifying. Her father’s face shattered, and the shards broke something within her. The heartstrings cut, and in the dead of night, she found the girl who placed just above her: Hela Ornstein. The darkness creaked within, and she transformed into the beast Lilin truly are. When her mother asked her why, she claimed she was doing her duty, sending a soul below to become a soldier for Lilith. ”Men are the ones who change. The women simply die.” Lilie looked at her daughter with new eyes, almost horrified yet amused. ”You spin terrible lies.”
— Though there was no proof other than Hela’s word, Nina was given a lifetime ban from the Olympics for amputating an arm and a leg off Hela. Because of the nature of this attack, many were suspicious that she could be capable of such a gruesome crime, but due to the nature of this attack, someone had to be found responsible even if investigations came back inconclusive.
— Following this, Nina’s father was wary of her; he didn’t know what to make of his daughter, and he was suspicious of her. He voiced these concerns to his wife.
— At 19, Nina was tasked with a different type of soul. ”I need you to kill Papa.” Her mother was so casual, and Nina looked at her with wide eyes. She agreed, and when she could not, she watched her mother consume her father, with the unspoken promise of what would happen to Nina.
— Since then, each of the fathers of her siblings have been turned to cambion, and the Lilin have joined their mother under a single roof in Brockley Gardens. Lilie Englemeir is still known as a German heiress, though there are now many that understand her to be the demon Lilith.
— Lilie Englemeir is now publicly known for owning a nightclub on Silver Crest Blvd. called The Garden of Eden. Nina is a dancer and bartender, while also working alongside her mother regarding dealings with vampires. In a sense, the Lilin have formed their own small crime family, especially as Lilith calls upon her cambion more and more, bringing them up from Hell to serve her as she sees fit.
— Now, when Nina looks at her mother, she wonders if there was any choice in this life at all. The truth looks her in the face, taking the form of the woman she thought loved her, and sees that she’s always been a puppet, dangling on a string above the balance beam.
— Still, Nina is known around Lazarus City for being the right-hand to her mother, yet being the one who most openly disobeys her. Not even some vampires will tempt Lilith the way her own daughter does, some avoiding her like the plague when she comes forth with a hair-brained scheme or offers her services. Nina is quite convincing, known for easy blackmail and the ever-present reminder of her ability to eat you whole. A snake that slithers along the alleys of Lazarus City, deadly but it is unclear who she will bite first.

EXTRAS —
- a hopeless romantic
- type to twirl a ringlet of hair around her finger, avoid eye contact, smack a piece of gum, and say, 'Who? Me?'
- adores body glitter
- proudly wears fake designer
- probably has relationship OCD
- party goirl TM
- struggles to understand others, gets overly attached when she does
- doesn't write back a text but will call instead
- overprescribes medications for herself
- queen of nightmares, especially yours!
- known for setting small fires as a kid

NINA
code by birth of venus.
 
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Linda Perhacs












Jack Harvey















R

equisite










name


Jack Harvey







age


24 years old







Gender


Cis Man







sexuality


Bisexual







D.O.B.


July 13th







Height


6'1







SPECIES


Ursanthrope, A.K.A Werebear






FC


Fionn Whitehead















T

he Underdog





Naive shifter of shapes and shameless pleasure seeker- a rebel without a cause. Meeker than a fighter should be and smiles too much for his own good.

Jack doesn’t remember much before his humanity went down the drain. He does remember that his childhood must’ve been a happy one; he had two loving parents and a precious baby brother who looked at him like he was everything. He remembers his home as being filled with laughter and light and very little to worry about. That’s the way it was until his adolescence when the curse took everything from him. No one can explain without a shadow of a doubt where it came from- his father says he was the seventh son of a seventh son, but speculation doesn't change anything; all he knew was that he couldn’t stay. He ran away to the only place he knew he could thrive.

As a lost and lonely ursanthrope in Lazarus City, he does what many expect of him- he gets his hands bloody. All it took was a well placed scrap in the alleyways. At first he found it difficult to adapt to the fighting style of the wolves of the pit fighting scene; facing defeat after defeat, he became the fighter to bet against if you didn’t want to lose your money. He quickly learned the ropes, however- while he isn’t the top fighter by any means, he is certainly a formidable opponent in his own right. Though never formally offered a role in any pack or gang, he’s caught the scrutinizing gaze of werewolf alphas who want him as a heavy-hitter for hire. He’s never pledged any allegiance, but has found himself with half a toe in many doors because of his uncanny ability to follow orders and take a beating. Every day he tells himself it’s the last one- it’s the last fight, the last time he’s going to set foot in the pit. It never is. He claims to hate what he does, but he doesn't know what he’d do without it. The money is one thing, but he’s institutionalized. He’s in love with the chain from which he hangs, and the bruises that paint his body are a reminder that he is alive- every bloodied nose and split lip he sees in the mirror is euphoria.









U

rsanthrope





Jack is a type of shifter that is similar to its sister species, the werewolf. He possesses most of the same abilities and faults, but instead of transforming into a bipedal wolf-like creature, he transforms into a massive black bear.

Extraordinary Strength

Werebears are also well-known for possessing great physical strength in and out of bear form.

Enhanced Durability

Ursanthropes are sturdy and have bodies primed to take a beating. Unless facing a werewolf or shifter of similar physical merit, it is very difficult to knock a werebear down.

Lesser Agility

Werebears, especially compared to their werewolf counterparts, are somewhat lacking in dexterity and their reaction times leave much to be desired. They are infamously clumsy.

Seasonal Aptitude

Werebears are very attuned to the shifting of the seasons, seemingly in their prime in the summer and at their weakest during the winter. While they don't need to hibernate by any means, the colder seasons trigger their instinct to become lethargic and are known to occasionally sleep throughout most of the day during these months.

Transformation Limitation

While they can transform during the day (though they certainly prefer to at night despite garnering no special effect from the moon,) ursanthropes find transformation equally painful and much more exhausting to their human frames than most shifters. They have to rest for a long period of time after transformation to recover, often passing out immediately after they unshift due to the toll it takes on their bodies. They also have little to no memory of what occurred during their shift. Because of this, most werebears are very conservative as to where and when (and why) they transform.

Silver Bullets

Werebears also have a weakness towards this specially crafted ammo.










g

allery
































♡coded by uxie♡
 
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THE HANGED MAN.
















name.


richard carmichael.






age.


35 years old.





species.


undead human.





fc.


tom hardy circa "legend".














TEAR ME APART, LIMB FROM LIMB
BUT BY GOD’S WILL—I SHALL RISE AGAIN.​

missing flyers drift along cool winds. on them, a face not even the owner remembered. a haze had fogged his brain to the point wherein it wasn't much of a surprise—all he remembered was the cold hold of death and the feeling of a phantom tether in his wake. unbeknownst to himself, even in after death, he acted as who he once was alive. his laugh remained the same, the urge to snark back at sharp tones, the charming smile.

at his core, he was still the remains of richard—better known as ricky carmichael. a detective in lazarus' police department with what his colleagues thought was a bright future. ricky was a diamond among coal; nights bled high and dry as he used to stay awake working till apollo came knocking at his shitty apartment window. lazarus city was a hellhole, but it was ricky's hellhole. since boyhood, he needed to grow up fast—ricky was raised in the slums. where lazarus socialites dumped their trash and dropped off their "street affairs".

his mother was one of those affairs. a lady of the night who did everything she could to get by. only to draw the short end of lady luck's sticks and was left pregnant with a bastard son. don't ask who his father was because it didn't matter.

ricky carmichael brought himself up from the sewage by being who he needed to be. who he wished he had when he slept in hole-ridden sheets in what barely could be called an apartment complex. the city required a devoted police detective to keep a watchful eye on them so ricky filled that void. he grew to be great at it too. a local hero if you would; solving decent-sized cases of passionate murders and missing kids on the back of milk cartons. the classic tale of a boy in blue who came from nothing and slowly became something. and much like all the goody-too-shoed men that came before him, glory festered to gluttony. they say heavy is the crown, and ricky had quite the weight on his shoulders.

a modern-day atlas with a sense of duty to raise the world when unusual dangers began to arise in lazarus. bodies dropped like flies sprayed with pesticide and no one knew the cause.

and would remain not knowing.

for poor little ricky bit off more than he could chew. some say he ditched from the stress eating him alive, others think he was snuffed out for sticking his nose in places they shouldn't. they wouldn't be so far off with the latter. if he hadn't allowed the gluttonous urge to get to the bottom of the mystery alone, he probably would still be ricky carmichael, the very much alive detective. instead, he was left to be a casket to what he once was. an unclaimed john doe.

john doe didn't know his place in the world. given his rotting state, he shouldn't have one. not anymore.

a saying goes that one is given only one shot at life, that once it ends, the book is closed and shelved to collect dust. john doe knows now that the saying is a load of horse shit. for here he was, a corpse with no clear beginning nor hint of an end any time soon. a dying man would think this to be a blessing but john could only see it as a curse. who was he? where did he come from? and why is everything so familiar?

he hung up his old uniform the moment he dropped dead. instead, he found the faintest feeling of solace in the city's nightlife. every club needed a bouncer after all.

—

𓆩♱𓆪 abilities
​
♱ inhuman strength​
john doe's grip is bone-breaking and his punches feel like smites from the creator himself. he once cracked a wall in two by a frustrated punch alone. it seems that when there is intent, his strength tenfolds from human ability.​
​
♱ rise-again​
he cannot die from methods that would usually kill him if he was human. believe him, he has tried everything.​

𓆩♱𓆪 drawbacks

♱ a corpse is still a corpse​
at the end of the day, he's still a dead sack of meat. underneath the attire he wears are stitches practically keeping his body together. one wrong move and he is quick to lose an arm and a leg. and it is such a bitch to stitch back up.​
​
♱ frankenstein's monster ; tethered​
someone had brought john doe back to life and for that, he is bound to serve. what happens if he denies is an excruciating pain frying every part of his being—mind, body, and soul. it is in his best interest that he complies, for life is as easy to be taken away as it is to be given. (that being said if anyone wants to own this corpse hmu)​
​
♱ brain rot​
as expected, a dead man must rot. john doe in particular has his memories of his time alive withered away. they sometimes return as moments of deja vu and fragments, but could they be genuine? or is it his own hysteria attempting to comfort his desire for familiarity?​
​
♱ god's kingdom​
john doe couldn't recall if he was a man of faith in the past but he sure knew he wasn't now. or at least couldn't. entering a church alone leaves his skin burning as if he went to florida for the summer and the same sensation can be said if he touches any holy trinket. as it turns out, god only wanted his son to rise from the dead. fair enough.​




john doe


♡coded by uxie♡
 
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STRIKE DEAR MISTRESS,
AND CURE HIS HEART.​

Chandeliers hang low from the ceiling; chalices of sculpted glass glint reflections of flickering candlelight, the one source of illumination in a smoky wooden room where the only windows are veiled with thick bolts of velvet. Persian rugs of blood and honey line the floors, shielding supple flesh from rigid oak. Across a sea of writhing bodies with fluttering wings and gnashing fangs, voices cry out in a cacophony from low moans to animalistic howls, all echoing with the common tenor of ecstacy. At the center of the whirlwind, lounging on cashmere and draped in vintage silk is the eye of the storm. She holds tools of both torture and treasure in her hand, and at the sound of her voice, the bodies fall (or rise) to their knees in reverance. She is not divine, quite the opposite; but in this house, where holy sacraments hang from the walls, those who swear their utter submission to the welcoming bosom of their mistress shall in time receive rapture. Beyond the haze of smog and neon puddles on the modern main streets of Lazarus, past the drug dealers and club promoters offering temporary salvation, true ecstasy awaits where one is willing to search for it, and she answers to the name Flordelis.

WOMAN WANTED - GUILTY OF LEWD AND LASCIVIOUS BEHAVIOUR

Fleur clings to little of her memories past 100 years; what doesn't spark fondness she tends to leave to time to consume. She prefers to leave life before her turning in the past, but it's hard to forget your formative years. The smolder of the sun's harsh rays on her skin, the feeling of blisters growing from cheap, splintering farm tools, the smell of animal dung that clung to her skin long after the day was done. For 50 years, her life was much of the same. For many in her position, a serf in 1500's France, it would remain this way until death. When she was drained of her blood one night and her humanity pulled out through her jugular vein, it was almost too late. This chapter of her life had clung on too long, leaving scars of it's nails in her subconscious. She's dedicated the rest of her eternal lifespan to righting the wrongs of her past, to live in luxury and bring all of her senses the pleasure she was denied all those years ago.

MYSTERIOUS SCRATCHES APPEAR ON VILLAGE MAN'S BACK - WORK OF THE DEVIL?

A senior member of the Ambrose family, Flordelis is relied on to keep track of Ambrosia's funds. Placed at the center of many a money laundering scheme, she's also expected to add to them when needed. Outside of work, she's well known amongst the city's streetwalkers, a lighthouse to be relied on in the midst of a dangerous, unpleasant job. Her couch is always free for the night, and if it weren't for her, many prostitutes would have little else to turn to. Besides them, she has a modest but loyal clientele; whether they be vampire or werewolf, half holy or all demonic, all similarly keel to her command, knowing well the taste of her whip and the sting of the kisses that follow. It's a far cry from the number of devotees she used to have, but regardless, Flordelis treats all that obey to her with equivalent respect, praising her clients just as much as she punishes.

CHURCH WARNS OF SEXUAL SIN IN AGE OF DIGITAL VIDEO

This is her role in the community these days, bookkeeper and occasional dominatrix, but longstanding citizens of Lazarus watch a shadow follow when she passes, an echo of who she used to be. It'd be hard to find one among them that doesn't know her face, the once Queen of the Night. Decades ago in her heyday, Flordelis ruled over Lazarus's nightlife with an iron heel. The humble soirees she holds now are mere suggestions of her once wild orgies; in a haze of chemical and carnal intoxication, nights bled into days; at the end of it, blood dripped from the ceilings like a warm midsummer drizzle onto rug-burned flesh and spent bodies. At one point, willing humans came to her in pursuit of eternal life, which she provided at the bend of their knee. Her followers were akin to a cult in their worship of her, and she basked in their adoration, a god amongst mortals.

Of course, that was then, and this is now.

Many of her followers have moved on or away, and in recent years, Flordelis has failed to pursue new excitement to add to what she has lost. Lazarus's clubs have been seeing less and less of her for decades now, as have its streets. In fact, unless it's for work or to shop, it's rare she gets out of the house at all. Perhaps it's the city's slowly dwindling population, or the recent uptick of crime in the area, but Flordelis has found herself newly disillusioned with her old lifestyle. The streets aren't quite as welcoming as they used to be; where the only abundant sins present throughout Lazarus's nightlife used to be lust and gluttony, it's become more common to see outright violence.

After the recent murder of one of her clients, Flordelis has found herself racked by grief and feeling more isolated than ever. Perhaps it's time to move?

FLORDELIS
code by birth of venus.
 
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thedailychronicles.com/news/trending/serial-killer-strikes-again





"APHRODITE" STRIKES AGAIN: FATHER'S BODY WAS LEFT IMPOSSIBLE TO IDENTIFY BY FAMILY
CEO of a famous tech company in Willow Commons was found murdered by his family in Brockley Gardens inside their estate. Police believe that this is the unidentified serial killer, "Aphrodite".

(click for full story)






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UNWANTED.

The woman awoke to her own screams of pain; as though talons scraped at her insides until she bled. Maybe she wasn't far off. A ritual had been made, someone who was bitter and full of hatred had paid an incubus to impregnate the woman.

Also known as a cambion, the woman experienced an excruciating pregnancy until the eventual birth.

A birth that was often met with the cambion child dying shortly after or being rather sickly. Yet to the woman's surprise, the monstrosity she had birthed lived.

Only rumours exist of what happened next. Once the woman recovered from the birth, the child was placed in her arms. A look of horror and realisation; screams that threatened to shatter mirrors ripped from her throat. Then...she died. They say the moment she stared into the child's eyes her heart stopped.

UNLOVED.

The cambion child grew up allowing people to use her. She began on the corners of Lazarus City in the dingy, fluorescent lighting of streetlamps. It was an easy way to control the hunger and back then she was even able to mitigate the damage she did to the poor souls.

She tried it all believe it or not. A family, a paying job and even a house but it was all fruitless. A cruel fate really. She watched him die in front of her. The cause was none other than her. She stopped trying after but often still played dress up behind closed doors.

FEARED.

Lifetimes later she is known as 'Aphrodite'. A woman who will kill anyone for a price. No one is off the table. Aphrodite doesn't care if her contracts have children or even if they are children. Give her a name and soon enough the tabloids of Lazarus City are having a field day with the utter mess she left behind.

See, while she is a killer for hire, Aphrodite has no definition or rather care for being subtle. Therefore, one cannot expect or plan for what will be left of the target when she is done with them.

In between her contracts are others - other bodies that are left in her wake. One would have to study if there is a connection between these random killings or not but if one was to study the crime scenes it would become increasingly clear that Aphrodite enjoys this.

WHO IS CASSANDRA?

If one was to thumb through the DSM-5, one would find an eerily similar description of Cassandra under 'Cluster B Personality Disorders'. Well, specifically, 'Antisocial Personality Disorder'. Lacking remorse and having a complete disregard for the safety of others, Cassandra can often be described as heartless. Yet, Cassandra believes that one who becomes a victim is at fault for being helpless or rather deserving of their fate.

Cynical and contemptuous, Cassandra views the world through a singular lens; one that is colourless and devoid of joy. The only moment the veil is lifted is when she feeds on others. Their souls are rich with emotions and explode with kaleidoscopic colours. It lights Cassandra up inside and for an albeit brief moment...she feels something other than irritability and aggressiveness. It has become addictive and she often feeds when it isn't necessary; relishing in the kill like some predator hunting a deer. Therefore, some would find her sadistic and clearly disturbed considering the actions she is willing to take to achieve these moments.

Yet, not many people see this side of her until their final moments. Cassandra has mastered the arts of social decorum and is able to shift and adapt to one's wants and desires. She believes everyone is selfish and will only see what they want to see and she can knead herself like clay until they see what they desire. Displaying a glib, superficial charm that slathers on when she meets others. It has left her feeling rather confused about who she truly is; an index of different personalities, aliases and relationships. Mostly it is for work and to feed but sometimes - not that she'd admit it because it's pathetic really - Cassandra plays house like she did when she was younger. A longingness to not be so different from everyone else around her.

Sharp and intelligent, Cassandra's impulsivity and recklessness often get in the way of her carefully observed plans. You would have better luck gambling at the casino than betting on how Cassandra would react to most situations, leaving her unreadable.












lazaruscitypd.com/files/criminals/aphrodite



NAME

Cassandra (last name unknown).

NICKNAME/S

Anonymously known as Aphrodite or Cass by people who know her.

AGE

Unknown.

OCCUPATION

Hitman for hire and well...serial killer.

SPECIES

Succubus and human hybrid.

POWERS

- shapeshifter. these seducers are able to shapeshift and alter their appearance to match an individual's view of beauty, making it easier to tempt.

- dreamer. once you meet cass, you seemingly cannot forget about her. she is able to appear in the dreams of those she seduces until it drives them crazy - literally.

- soul-eater. cass has the ability to steal the life force of those seduced by her, which can end in death if she isn't careful or maybe that was what she intended. stealing life force isn't only for fun but is how cass stays young, shapeshifts and keeps her true appearance hidden.

- abnormal. superior stamina and speed, cass is abnormally fast and has the stamina to keep up. she has the ability to heal non-fatal wounds at a faster rate and superior strength.

- temptress. one cannot explain why but once cass gets a hold of you it is hard to break free. she has the ability to tempt men to do as she pleases. just don't let her touch you.

WEAKNESSES

- hunger. cass has no choice but to feed on the life force of others. if she was to not feed she would slowly lose her allure, and abilities and her true appearance would shine through before eventually dying.

- lust. a human would call her a sex addict, but cass has no choice in the matter when it comes to sex. she has to or else.

- loner. unfortunately for cass she is destined to be alone, in the sense of true love or admiration. she has no idea if one is doing something for her because they want to or because she wills it. physical contact with someone she holds dear can also lead to loss of life force (minimal or substantial).

- mental. if she means to or not, entities that do not have the mental fortitude to deal with her allure will likely suffer mentally and be prone to hallucinations and troubling thoughts. the seduced will eventually become crazed and often stalk cass to alleviate these symptoms. the only way to end such symptoms is by cass's death or magic.

- mortal. being a hybrid, cass isn't immortal and can be killed by natural means.

- stand-out. blending in is impossible. no matter how dull she appears she cannot keep her allure hidden. this can bring unwanted attention and makes her job more difficult than it should be.







/* ------ credit -- do not remove ------ */

© weldherwings.

 
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VII.
the chameleon
scroll.















snakeskin
rina sawayama

VISAGE
NAME: Aster Thoreau
AGE: 24
GENDER: Male (he/him)
ORIENTATION: Bisexual
SPECIES: Chameleon
FACE CLAIM: Zachary Gordon

PSYCHE
A shadow within a shadow, possessing the abilities to hide among the hidden is a specialty granted to a select few of man's biological oddities. Dominating a heavy portion of Lazarus City are the werewolves, mighty as the bear and cunning as the fox. And while the vampires are highly regarded as the criminal masterminds of LC, werewolves are not without their own dominating parties. The sheer number of shapeshifters in the world far outnumbers most other species, and that is exactly the reason for which the werewolves have established a name for themselves as LC's leading faction of shapeshifters.

Within that werewolf-dominated gang was the Thoreaus, a clan of lizard-adjacent shapeshifters that have long allied with the werewolves of LC. Though their numbers have drastically dwindled to the family's sole survivor, Aster Thoreau, he holds out hope that he is not the last of his kind in the city, not even including how statistically unlikely it is that there wouldn't be at least one other reptilian shapeshifter somewhere out there.

Aster grew up among werewolves, the only family he's ever known. The circumstances of his biological family's deaths and disappearances are largely attributed to the city's increasing violence, especially granted that chameleons have a clear disadvantage in strength compared to many other species. It's regrettable, but Aster is long past mourning the relatives he knew only as a small child. He had to. He would do anything for his existing family, and has subsequently soared through the ranks of his gang thanks to his unwavering devotion.

Bitter, cruel, and wily, Aster's penchant for deceit knows no bounds. His specific skillset centers around his ability to lie, cheat, and steal, with the added bonus of being naturally suited for stealth tactics. When rendering his form invisible has exhausted its use, he wouldn't hesitate to incapacitate any target in his way. With a killer instinct that extends far into the more "human" end of his mind, it is advised to be wary of Aster's deadly reflexes.

He's always observing, calculating, and weighing the odds behind his smiling front. Though the phrase has been left behind in a more prosperous time for Aster's family, "Never trust a Thoreau" will always ring true. Only the old and wise have the historical knowledge to know better.

ABILITIES
Shifting - Though he possesses far less physical strength and endurance than that of the common werewolf, chameleons still typically retain some added power from their biological cousin with the bonus of increased agility. At will, he may shift to a humanoid reptilian form that covers his body in brownish-green scales, alters his pupils to a reptilian shape and purple hue, and elongates his nails to small, sharp claws. Given that the change to his physiology is not nearly as dramatic as his wolven counterparts, it takes less of a toll and is a much smoother transition. Of course, there still is some pain and a comparatively shorter recovery period. It is also important to note that, unlike werewolves, chameleons are not affected by the lunar cycle but are still prone to periodic frenzy/lack of control in high-pressure situations. Also still weak to silver.

Invisibility - Pretty self-explanatory. Aster can turn invisible at will; it's a lot like holding one's breath in that he cannot hold it forever, but through training he has far extended the time he can remain unseen. Still can be heard, smelled, and touched. If in contact with another person while shifting, it is possible to render both of them unseen with the tradeoff of requiring much more physical exertion on Aster's end.

Venom - Aster secretes a paralytic venom that can be concentrated in his nails and fangs. In high doses, it can prove deadly without treatment as it spreads to vital organs, but most typically it acts similarly to cobra venom in that it will paralyze the victim for a limited time.

Thermal Sensitivity - Being related to an ectothermic species of animal, chameleons have a specific tendency to feel the effects of extreme heat and cold to a greater degree (ha). They pose a great threat to a chameleon's natural healing ability and can halt it temporarily. Aster is almost always cold.


GALLERY​










aster thoreau.


designed by bad ending. & coded by xayah.ღ
 
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coded by Serobliss​
Romani Jewel & Jezebel
SEBASTIANA GROZAV
theme


​
 
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YOU WANTED IT,

HERE’S YOUR TRUTH

YOU WANTED CLAW AND TOOTH.




given name: scarlett faustus
nickname: scar
age: 22
pronouns: she/her
orientation: bisexual
species: werewolf

the grocery clerk, the bartender, the dark flash before you’re knocked on your ass. scarlett does all sorts of jobs anything to keep bills off the table and food in the fridge. life wasn’t always check to check, bloodied knuckles and even bloodier teeth. it was wide smiles, vanity, power, determination, grit and strength. the taste of frozen air melting on her tongue, bright lights, shimmering costumes, perfect routines. she was good, great, she was perfect. she was born to be on the ice. to lavish in the attention, to feel the height of the adrenaline three feet in the air.

now the only adrenaline she gets is from the crack of a nose underneath her hand. she’s always been one for getting even, revenge never seemed taboo. fuck waiting by for karma, she was karma. she never saw the point in bending, only in breaking. from the age of seven she danced across the ice, until it was ripped away from her. seventeen, fresh cold night air, dank coppery blood, the alleyway beside the ice rink. a shattered leg, a body ripped apart, but alive, so terribly alive.

scarlett would never skate again, a permanent limp in her left leg. some days unable to move at all. and then there were the nights, of her body breaking, bending contorting into something she had never been. scarlett was tired, is tired. but determined there’s no rest for the wicked, or for truth. and she will tear through whoever it takes to find who turned her into this monster and seek her ultimate revenge. dreams of school, teaching, everything put on the back burner. at one point she may have been nice, but every part of that version of her died that night. the moon as her witness.

each year she would come up with a new theme, costumes, choreography, reinventing herself over and over again. she will continue to reinvent herself until she gets what she wants. It’s the only way to survive.



scarlett
code by birth of venus.
 
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1668552114608.png
Aurelian
​
The Basics:

Gender: Male (he/him)
Sexuality: Pansexual
Age: 482. Visually looks to be in his mid 20's.
Height: 6'1
Species: Fae
Face Claim: Alexander Ferrario

Gifts:

Immortality: Perhaps the word immortal is a poor name for this gift given to the fae. The fae can die, and in fact it happens quite often. They are just as susceptible to poisons and weapons as other humanoid beings. If a fae can avoid these things however, they can live for a very, very, long time.

Contracts: The cornerstone of the empire Aurelian has built for himself. Fae born of pure and royal blood may forge contracts with other beings. Contracts are crafted and carefully worded to bring forth charms of good health, wealth, beauty, and general life success are within their capabilities. A breach of the contract though lands the other person in Aurelian's favor, and the price to pay is always incredibly high.

Beauty: The fae are naturally beautiful. Dangerously sharp, like a blade forged of the finest steel. Aurelian has the ability to glamor himself, but uses it on very rare occasions. He wants others to know who he is, and why they should fear him.

Weaknesses:

Iron: Iron against a fae's skin is like a hot brand to the skin of cattle. It burns and burns until all that is left is charred flesh and a wounded morale. Iron sap's the strength of the fae from them too, rendering them mostly incapable of fighting back.

Candor: Aurelian cannot lie. That does not mean he cannot choose his words carefully to ensure that deals end up in his favor.

Vanity: The fae are proud creatures. Attempts to woo Aurelian with compliments about his cleverness or good looks will certainly earn you points in your favor. However, it can be used against him too if played right.

But, who is Aurelian?...

They were gods once, the fae. Did you know that? There was a time when both mortals and supernatural beings alike acknowledged the fae's power, and swore their fealty to them. But every pantheon must fall to make way for the next generation of gods. With their number's culled and their kingdom's toppled, the fae are now one of the "lesser" beings in the supernatural community. Many of whom seem to have taken shelter in the harsh climate of Lazarus City. Aurelian was born here. Having never known the life of wealth, luxury, and extreme power that his mother knew. If his mother, royalty in her time, had just given birth a couple hundred or so years earlier, Aurelian wouldn't have entered the world in the sewer soaked alley way of a gentleman's club on rainy evening.

"Oh, Aurelian. The hallways were adorned with gold and the chandeliers made with the finest of gemstones. Mortals flung themselves at our feet, they would do anything for our attention. Even if it ended in their demise." His mother would tell him between drug induced hallucinations of her past. "You were never meant for this life, you were meant for so much more. You were meant to be a king." And one day, as a young Aurelian watched as the debt collectors took from his mother what they were owed, Aurelian could truly see just how far the gods had fallen.

So he became a god in his own right.

There is a club in Silver Crest Blvd called The Silver Flame. The relatively small space is crammed with card tables, each packed with hopeful citizens who wish to push their luck and earn just enough coin to fund their next endeavor or keep the one of the Families off their back. Women adorned in dresses that cling to their body like liquid silver weave between tables, passing out drinks to hands that reach out for them. If you were to grab one of these maidens delicately by the wrist, and whisper in her ear "These drinks are lovely. But I wish to to indulge in the taste of moonlight." she would silently nod, and beckon for you to follow her. In the back of the Silver Flame is a long and darkened hallway, and if you look closely, the wallpaper itself seems to be made of swirling shadows that dance in time with the slow jazz that emanates from the main room.

Nobody can quite agree on where the Silver Flame came from, or who runs it. It seemed to have just...appeared one day. Very few know the true story. Of a scrappy street kid who scrambled his way from the gutters and into the criminal underbelly of Lazarus. He had a knack for games, and a talent for making contracts. Beat him at a game in a game of your choosing, and he would be willing to make a deal with you. Follow his contract to the T, and you are given a charm. Many choosing love or wealth. But to break any line of the contract, and your charm is forfeit. How do you pay the street kid back? In power. Serving as his underling until he deemed you no longer useful, which usually ends with a bullet in your skull and your body dumped into the nearest river.

This kid grew to be a man, and the man grew to be a lord. With the power and small wealth he amassed over the years, he opened The Silver Flame. A gambling den to satisfy all needs. His goal? To amass enough power and influence to bring back the fae to the glory they once knew. One contract at a time.

The woman leads you to a door at the end of the hall painted in silver. It swings open silently. Inside sits a man at a table. His red hair gleams like flickering fire in the low electric light, and his features are as sharp as freshly forged knives.

"So I hear you would like to play a game?" are the last words you hear, before the door clicks shut, and you sell your soul.
 
RIVERS OF MISERY
ALL THE SAME,
HEMLOCK GROWS AROUND HIS NAME​

VAMPIRE-LORD CEO FOUND WITH MISSING EYES AND TONGUE

don'tsayhisname
don'tsayhisname
don'tsayhisname
don'tsayhisname
don'tsayhisname

HALLOWED SON OF GAMORRAH

whispered atrocities and truths flow at his feet. he hangs from the ceiling of the church by his toes and blood-red poppies spill from his lips. his sweet words confuse the angels and soothe the dead. clean is the one who walks opposite from him in the desert. drink of his eyes and hunger no more. he is neither sin nor virtue. rage wells in his hand and is flung like seeds to the soil. his other hand shapes the day.

"I died once. It wasn't lovely...but then it was beautifully sweet as I rode the waves of oblivion. Why was I ripped back? I know why...but I'll never tell."

LOCAL CHILD MIRACULOUSLY REGAINS VISION AND SPEECH FOLLOWING A TRAUMATIC CAR ACCIDENT THAT LEFT HER BLIND AND MUTED

Rune is a mystery. He goes by the title of Son of Gomorrah and won't lie to you if you ask him exactly what he is. He claims to be as old as the Holy Roman Empire, having ancient rituals and speaking different tongues. "I was a witch to them," he claims, while drinking a glass of blood wine, "We were... 'barbaric' in our practices, so they killed us--me and my kin. But, I returned. It seems I had unfinished business. Was I cursed or blessed to be a revenant? This, I truly don't know. But, I was given a mission. A very simple one: Show them my wrath and use it to free the right ones. And so, that's what I do."

Just because he has some hallowed contract in the afterlife doesn't mean that he is bound to be completely holy. He revels in debauchery, drinking in the world and all its hate. From that, flowers bloom. He's aloof but daring. He doesn't live in the shadowy dark, but smiles at the sun and the moon alike. He's patient when it comes to being personally angered. He's also cruel and creative, subjecting unworthy ones with the most "worth" to sadistic practices. And, despite being nearly 500 years old, he's still young at heart.

The House of Sleep is the name of the cabaret lounge he owns in Laz. There, the darkest delights happen. Desire is personified, except for the really depraved things--the people who want that get snared in a gilded web that Rune is constantly spinning. The club has dancers of any choice you fancy, drugs of the mystical and mortal kind alike, & the city's best underground smuggling ring that includes things from werewolf refugees to the fair priceless artifact. Though all this goes on under his roof, Sir Rune is not a degenerate. In fact, he donates to the few charitable organizations that exist in Lazurus City. He has a soft heart for the lost. But, that same kindness could rend your skin from your bones in an instant. He'd dance in your blood if he had to and he'd enjoy the downpour.

(POWERS & ABILITIES)
The Old Ways- Clairvoyance: If it isn't broken, don't fix it. Rune's spellcasting is rooted in channeling directly from his emotions, a dangerous gamble for most. He is not exempt from the mental and physical torture that comes from doing this. He's just used to the salt in his wounds. Rune can directly funnel his magicks into clairvoyance--seeing the future and communing with the lost. A valuable gift indeed, for the right buyer. He can even do a little necromancy, though it's never a pleasant time when he does.

Three Wishes- Ritual Casting: Rune has an oath with something holy and infernal. By ripping his beating heart out of his chest and saying his actual name 5 times, he can perform some otherworldly things that verge on miracles. However, these miraculous events have a dire cost to the receiver of the wish. All endings are tragic in the end. He had 7 wishes, but he's down to his last 3. After his final wish, his body and soul will be dragged down to the Netherworld.

(WEAKNESSES)
Mortal Wounds: The sources of Rune's power are his heart and his name. Destroy his heart or say his true name 5x to a broken mirror to make him drop dead.

Oblivion: No witch has lived past 500 years. It's an unspoken rule, a defining boundary of their ability to weave reality to their whim. Rune doesn't have much time left, maybe 2 years. And, when he dies, who knows where he's going? He might even be killed prematurely to appease his unknown benefactor. Hell, he might catch a heart attack from sneezing too hard. This has him shaken up and looking for an answer. To put it plainly, he is off his guard.

Enemy of My Enemy:
Rune is dipped in the blood of others--drenched, some would say. He has a lot of foes in his wake and at his door. If anything is sure, it's this: One day, he's going to cross the wrong person. He may be going down...but, sugar, he's going down swinging. His guard is raised high...maybe too high for his own good.

Losing Touch:
Rune's humanity is...optional. He can choose to abandon his reason and go on a self-involved binge on anything and everything in his path. But, every time he does he finds it harder and harder to come back. Can a soul recover from being subjected to its own twisted desires? If he dips down even once, he's liable to become a true monster. He'd rather not have to lose himself, but some triggers are just unavoidable. Will he break? Or, will he find peace?

TOTALITY
code by birth of venus.
 
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lupus in fābulā.
the detective















My Body is a Cage
Peter Gabriel

VISAGE
NAME: Bardulfe Lupin
NICKNAMES: Mr. Wolf, the Big Bad, Faoladh, the Beast of Gévaudan
D.O.B: he forgot (or so he says).
AGE: 50 years old(?)
GENDER: cis-male
ORIENTATION: pansexual
ROLE: the detective

APPEARANCE
APPEARANCE: Brown eyes. Black hair. 6'3" (190cm). 200lbs. (91kg). Sporting a mix between an English-Irish accent that is somewhat subdued due to years of speaking in another country entirely. Bardulfe Lupin is a giant of a man, stoic and strong. His stature akin to that of a mountain, and his character even more difficult to budge or chip away. His large body and wide shoulders make for quite the intimidating physique, and his natural—or rather unnatural—physicals abilities only support his impressive size. Stern and stoic yet subtly perceptive and aware, his brown eyes remain resolute in spite of any troubles set before him. His hair is kept short yet slightly styled, not left to being a short mess—if any mess can be made of it at all. There are few and far wounds or scars on his body and the largest of which sporting perhaps the appearance one or two wide yet faded and nearly imperceptible scars from battles and brawls long ago. His musculature is not only large but also well-developed—not unlike a boxer's or trained athlete—and it aids him greatly in a fight, being both quick on his feet and quick to a punch as well as being quick on the draw. Years of experience combined with a powerful and trained body, Bardulfe Lupin is not a force to be reckoned with.
FACECLAIM: Idris Elba

PSYCHE
PERSONALITY: If nothing else, Bardulfe Lupin can be compared to be akin to a cold-hearted bloodhound. Once he's on the trial of something, there is little that can shake him from it until he reaches its conclusion. Cases are like bones thrown to a wolf when it comes to him. Do not try to tug it away from him. Lupin takes his work very seriously and has proven to be both a man of integrity and a man of his word. Unlike other precincts or officers of the law, Bardulfe cannot be bought off nor can he be stopped. Years of experience both on-and-off the police force have given him a keen insight into situations and people, using steady and simple logic and analysis to work through cases. Working through the motives and thought process of other people while on cases, this talent does not always necessarily translate to basic empathy. In fact, his more stoic and serious expressions and posture can often be intimidating and even off-putting, like a wolf constantly on alert. His eyes always occasionally looking about, sniffing out or searching for his next clue—or his next suspect. In a way, they are each prey in his eyes. Finding the culprit is like finding the other predator hiding behind sheep's clothing.

While Bardulfe prides himself on his integrity and moral grit, he is not above lying to people he does not trust nor is he above making deals or working with shady individuals to get things done. As he likes to think or put it, they'll get there time to rot away, but, as of right now, they are of more use to him to get the bigger fish. He'll fry the smaller ones soon enough.

His compassion is probably his biggest trait and one he keeps most well-hidden. While he does give out the occasional praise or congratulations on work well-done as well as the odd-bit of advice or encouragement, there is little else beyond that to suggest there is a heart under that cold bloodhound demeanor. However, it is his heart that pushes him to drive forward, more so than his mind. His mind is his greatest tool, cold, calculated, and efficient. His heart is the one aiming it a certain direction. Be sure not to be in the path he has set himself on.

traits

Stoic
Serious
Perceptive
Loyal
Determined
Compassionate
Stubborn
Arrogant
Impatient

abilities

Supernatural Body (ex. Speed, Strength, Endurance, and more.) These are greatly reduced while in human form, and steadily increase with each state of transformation.
Moon Empowerment
Supernatural Senses - Able to see ghosts and other strange magical or esoteric phenomenon, not unlike actual dogs and animals. He can also sense when terrible natural disasters are about to happen or arrive. He can also be a good judge of character and sense different changes in emotional states, usually through smell. His sense are keen to pick up on the scents of different monsters, and his senses can work to help smell chemicals and contraband, such as certain drugs or bombs, similar to a trained canine.
Healing Factor -Susceptible to be countered by silver and wolfsbane, but besides that there is little he can't bounce back from.
Werewolf Transformation - Unlike most, however, he has different stages of transformation due to years of practice and suppression of his more feral form. The first stage is akin to an actual wolf-man, where his fangs grow out, claws sprout, and additional hair grows around his body. However, it is only in the second stage that he takes a more beastly form, becoming an actual werewolf. Unlike most other werewolves, Bardulfe is much larger and more canine like in this form, more beast than human as he enters this more hybrid form. The third and final state is his largest and most feral. Bardulfe Lupin becomes a giant wolf canine, much larger than his fellow compatriots and becoming a supernatural beast in every sense of the word. The drawback is that, despite the increased power of each form, it brings about a heavy toll, draining him of much of his strength and stamina. If not due to old age, then from the suppression of his transformations making it more difficult for him to transform and maintain that transformation for extended periods of time. In essence, he got rusty.

THE PAST & PRESENT
HISTORY: Bardulfe Lupin comes from an early line of werewolves. Every tale of the Big Bad Wolf, the Faoladh, the Beast of Gévaudan, and every mythological wolf in existence is true. Because he was there to see all of it, to see all of them. Bardulfe Lupin was one among the number of the earliest werewolves. Unlike his more famous brethren, Bardulfe chose to suppress his violent tendencies and stay away from humanity, if only to keep them safe. He focused more on himself instead of the pack, teaching himself different languages and cultures. His only real interaction among his extended family was when they were danger, and, even then, he was unable to protect them. Both from themselves and from humanity.

In the end, he became tired. He became a lone wolf, wandering the world for a bit until more recently, over thirty years ago, Bardulfe discovered Lazarus City. A place where humans and monsters lived in a relative harmony and were safe from the wider world. And while Bardulfe may have been unable to protect his old family, he could make this city a little better. Make people's lives a little better and safer.

Detective Lupin is on the largest case ever: cracking this city's secrets and cracking down on those who run it from the shadows.



GALLERY​










Bardulfe Lupin.


designed by bad ending. & coded by xayah.ღ
 
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EVERYBODY DIES
AND WHEN WILL I?​


A stranger in town, too far from home—you’re too young to be here alone at night, little girl. Missing posters line the streets, fluttering in the wind, the pretty face in bold obscured from view as the pages fold in on themselves. She’s dead, they murmer. She must be. She went too far this time. A mangled body in an alley, clothes shredded and covered in blood, bruises where they shouldn’t be. That’s her, they say. Little girls shouldn’t go out alone at night.

Kirana Dimas—Kira, to those that know her, and Karma to those that wish they do—died. At twenty-three years old, kidnapped, assaulted, and abandoned in the dark outskirts of Lazarus City, there should have been no coming back. Two lives for the price of one isn’t nearly as luxurious as it sounds, though, not when burdened with the pain of a previous life and the bloodthirsty hunger for revenge.

Once a naïve and entirely too trusting young woman, Kira has since become cold and hardened by the cruelties of the world. After her untimely death, she was reborn as the sort of monster she would have feared as a little girl—driven only by her anger and a desire to kill, she is a creature out of nightmares. Perhaps the worst part about being gifted a second chance at existing is being stripped of her humanity—gone are the free-spiritedness and playful whims of the Kirana that once was, but every now and then, when she’s alone with nothing but her thoughts to keep her company, she’s keenly aware of the way in which she has to bite back guilt in response to her violent actions, and she’s left wondering if a part of her old self still remains buried deep within, too scared to come to the surface.

Kira puts her newfound aggression and sudden free time to good use at Lazarus City’s strip club. Her urge to kill is most prominent at night, and seeing as the place is crawling with sleazy males all too similar to the one that took her life—perfect victims—it only makes sense to spend her hours there. Her beauty is undeniable, and to men only after one thing—willing to overlook any hint of danger, if only due to the fact they refuse to see a woman as a threat—it is an irresistible temptation. They fall over themselves to be the first at her feet, all too willing to follow her into the dark back rooms of the club and roll onto their backs for her, exposing their bellies to the predator. Kirana’s beauty is only a mask for the monster within, however. Anger and resentment made her ugly—only in the moments leading up to a murder is her true form revealed to the victim: red, glowing eyes and long, sharp nails (perfect for ripping into flesh).

She tells herself they deserve it, and pity the poor man that crosses her path at the wrong time.

+ | enhanced strength : in addition to claw-like nails, a superhuman level of strength makes killing her victims easier, especially since there are no weapons involved—kira guts her prey, stabbing them through the stomach with her talons and ripping out their organs to eat, a task that would be impossible without a little supernatural help.

+ | shape shifting : in order to better persuade her victims into succumbing to her, kirana is able to disguise her monstrous form with that of a beautiful woman. she can change between the two appearances at will, though she usually prefers to remain in her human state, as it’s a lot easier to face in the mirror first thing in the morning.

+ | the lure : in addition to changing her looks, kira has another way in which she’s able to convince men to bend to her will. when she’s not getting men from her usual source—the strip club—she has to resort to more creative methods. in order to lead men out of their homes, kirana’s laughter is sickeningly sweet, like an invitation to come outside for those too dumb to know what it means.

- | a gruesome obedience : the only way to subdue a pontianak is by driving a long nail into the hole at the nape of her neck. though this is a hard feat, as kira is too strong to be overpowered by one man alone, once it is done, there is nothing that she can do to stop its effects. she is forced into a more human state—the same beautiful one as before—and must behave as a “good wife” should: obedient to men. this only continues so long as the nail remains embedded in her neck.

- | daylight savings : as a creature that is strongest at night, kirana experiences a certain sort of weakness during the day hours. she is much more tired and restrained, sluggish almost. if one were to dare approach her in search of a favor to ask, they would be wise to wait until the sun comes up to do such a thing.

- | the signs : though kira works stealthily, she is powerless against the foreboding warnings that nature supplies her potential victims. when she is far away, dogs howl and a floral scent permeates the air, but as she nears, the smell grows putrid, and the cries of the canines become nothing but fearful whines, the atmosphere falling to be eerily silent.
KIRANA
code by birth of venus.
 
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XI.
the unicorn.
scroll.















whip it
devo

VISAGE
In the darkest pits of Lazarus, it seems that not even the brightest of full moons can penetrate the fog and crime of the city long forgotten by the innocent. Yet among the weak and the sick, one sliver of the moon’s light still remains. Lost and cut off from the stars above, she roams a world where her light exists only to be extinguished.

Adalia is a woman lost to time. Never aging a day, the sorrowful expression on her visage never leaves. With downturned eyes of a pale violet hue, it can be truly hard to make eye contact with the pitiful woman. Perhaps it’s because her gaze seems to reflect oneself back at them, forcing them to reckon with their own sinful appearance. If one is avoiding her gaze, as they often do, they may come to realize just how pale Adalia is. Pale enough that her cheeks seem to shimmer with a pale blue, as if magic used to righteously course through her veins. As if she was sliced open and drained, leaving nothing but a pallid shell in her place. Though her lips are soft and round, she never seems to say what anyone wishes to hear.

As her body racks with sobs and glistering tears shed themselves, Adalia will often crumble over herself. Her hair, as white as fresh snow, will stain itself with the grime upon the ground as she pulls and pulls at her own delicate skin. If she dares to look up during these moments, one will be privy to the mark upon her forehead. Shaped like a burning star, it’s as if she was scorched by the Earth itself. With long and pointed ears, one may mistake poor Adalia for an elf, and she wishes they were right.

Despite the conditions she lives in, Adalia never seems to change. She never grows an inch above 5’7, and she never seems to eat enough to fill out her ribcage anymore. What she hungers for cannot be given to her, not by anyone in this pit of hell.



PSYCHE
Adalia is not a woman of mystery like many tend to assume; she is a woman of sorrow and anguish. As quiet as a mouse on most days, it can be hard to get a peep out of the perpetually saddened woman. When she speaks, it’s with a voice that has been itched away by years and years of mistreatment. Though her actions are kind and her words soothing, a trace of heartache seems to lace itself into her words. Truly, Adalia is a kind woman. It’s hard for her to be anything but. The city continues to test and pull at her every which way, but a burden has laid itself upon her shoulder. If she is not the bit of hope for others, what else is there for her?


abilities


Once powerful and sought out, the well of magic inside Adalia has all since dried up. Left with only the very basics of healing, Adalia is able to mend those around her. Her presence gives means to a calming effect, one that intends to heal the mental state. Perhaps she’d have more powers if she didn’t live in Lazarus, but alas. This is all that is left of her.


misc.

It's a shame she's ended up where she is. A unicorn, meant to represent purity and chastity. Now she's nothing more than a washed up whore.





GALLERY​










'adalia.'


designed by bad ending. & coded by xayah.ღ
 
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wear and tear, shattered and battered
you are alive, aren't ya?
scroll.





Maggot
Slutever




"BONE-MARROW, BONE-MARROW, BONE-MARROW, BONE-MARROW!"

The crowd full of shadowed crooks roar, howl, scream - lights flash, music blares, the cage rattles, and distantly in the background, absorbed & barely heard above it all - the blood curdling scream of a certain twenty one year old brunette.

A massive blur of dark brown, a blurry white eyed beast unhinges into the ring: snarling, drooling, mindlessly rampaging, rabid - three sizes bigger than any healthy normal beast should be.

It rips ruthlessly at anything, everything in range; eyes rolled back, blind, foaming from the mouth. Rabies? Nothing is distinguishable, all is dark, panic devours it in search of the light. Death?

People throw unwanted objects into the ring, from teddy bears to divorce papers - knowing it'll be torn to shreds, knowing that whoever enters the ring could leave it unrecognizable, or not leave it at all. Unbreathing. There was an incident where all that was left were the bones...

They come to feed a starving dog their unwanted table scraps, watch the whispered rumor, to be splattered from the side-lines with blood of another, fortune and debt.

Fear. Awe. Disgust. Greed.

Who doesn't enjoy a crazy good show, right?

Rigged. Untouchable. Everything that The Scabs are these days should be thanks to her. The leash is her own, did they forget?

Not many are willing to bring truth to light in Lazarus City, to make accusations. Do you dare call us a cheater? A monster?

Willingly. Unwillingly.

Adrenaline. Exhaustion. Pride. Shame.

There's always a way out of the sewers.

What's really the difference between it all, anyways? You're alive, right?

BONE-MARROW was chosen to be a high-rolling champion of the underground.

- - - - - - - ​

Maro is the only child of J. Yardly, the leader of 'The Scabs'; a rather scummy and, in the past, insignificant werewolf gang from Free Field.

In recent years, they've become more well-known due to their wins with their top-notch fighter, 'Bone-Marrow'. A fighter a few have questioned the validity and ethics of... what? How dirty are these fights supposed to get?

Maybe it's just gossip, maybe it's not - but rumor is, J. Yardly and his own were in a desperate situation, money-wise amongst the sharks of Lazarus City.

Somehow, (a miracle, really) they made a friend in a high place, and in exchange for muscle and protection, they received... a certain questionable enhancement serum - highly unpredictable & strangely only having effects on werewolves. A drug.

Quickly after that, The Scabs had became a small piece on the Lazarus board.

With the drug, they actually won fights - took over certain properties and streets, made money to make most necessary ends meet; but obviously, the bare necessities isn't ever enough. To go up against the top-notch of Lazarus City, they needed a secret weapon. A monster.

How convenient that J. Yardly had a rowdy and rumbling teenage daughter at the time, just barely entering the process of creaking bones, nastily snarling at the upper-class, and entering her next chapter of life.

- - - - -​

Those who have known her since she was a young pup pick-pocketing on the streets aren't blind to the toll the life-style have taken on her. Being as exhausted, and as bruised up as often as she is?

Phew.

Even with the help from a certain drug - it's no walk in the park, okay?

The pain indescribable, strangely bloody, stretching and bulking and pulling in more ways than what it should be capable of, her brain feeling like it's splitting in half. Growing into a ten foot mangy monster... Does she even remember how to naturally transform anymore? Probably not.

She and Bone-Marrow have become the main source of her own sweat-drenched nightmares, as well as her most wonderful heart-racing dreams. Unimaginable pain. Horrifying pleasurable applause to uncontrollable actions. Swell of satisfaction, of purpose, upon seeing her own vision smeared red.

Notoriety, favors, money, other job opportunities.

Maro's still a rowdy piece of work. A loud laugh, and a big ego, and obviously always on the chase for the more risky and exciting things of life.

But the chain that binds her, that parades her around in warning like a skull on a stick, that have decided her perception of normality - she has barely started to question why she keeps baring her bones for these dogs.

What do these Scabs even offer her anymore that she can't get herself? And she's already given them the ladder out of the gutter.

Family doesn't mean that much. Losing. Winning. Nothing really does.

What happens if she wants to destroy the ring, even somehow leave Lazarus City behind altogether?

With her dad, J. Yardly, recently arrested, and his bail bond enormously high - she has both an unexpected freedom and a liability on her hands.











MAROON YARDLY


designed by bad ending. & coded by xayah.ღ
 
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please do not panic,
you're in safe hands now.
scroll.





(Somebody) Ease My Troublin' Mind
Sam Cooke




Yes, appointments are made only after dark. Unless you're able to transport to him?

Well, this doctor doesn't need a degree - he has an ageless amount of experience in the practice. If you don't wish to seek medical guidance from him, why do you bother to call us?

Ask anyone who's anyone in Lazarus City. Dr. Kind doesn't need a petty paper to credit him.

(Though, he does have some, if you're someone who's requiring it to be seen.)

Hands ice cold, steadier than the dead, graceful and gliding like skates on ice.

You've been shot, in need of some discreet medical attention? Come down with a case of something you've never seen? Need your wings reattached? In need of a certain blood type, an under-the-table recommendation?

Well, come on in. Let's see what we can do.

The uncanny glint in his eyes becomes comforting after a while. The droning autonomous tone of his voice. Always eerily still, attentive. You'd trust him with your life, wouldn't you?

There's nothing to fear. Nothing to fear of a lifeless man with ageless sight, hunger for finding imbalance, stitching up and fixing up and turning the pages. Anomalies, small peeks.

The disturbed. The presumed unfix-able. Occasionally illegal... The strange, untameable.

Dilating pupils, sights set like an 'x' on a map, the slight rise to the corner of his lips at the sight of something - anything - that he hasn't seen before.

Those who are in truly desperate deathly situations seem to be his favorite clients. The very one's the doctor has been known to go out of his own way himself to reach out to, lend his helping gloved hand.

But if you've got the cash or the connections, however big or small the situation might be - he'll likely be standing by your bedside, nursing your wounds or broken bones or fevers, and maybe, occasionally... accidentally making them worse.

There are times when it does really depend on who he's working for, and then other times when it really doesn't... Your threats, sob-stories, hefty bribes. He takes it into account, so it seems.

But is it hard to understand?

He does nothing out of obligation. There's nothing and no one he feels in-debt to. This doctor owes the world nothing.

And he no longer uselessly ponders if it owes him in return.

If he's in alliance with you, it's purely because, at this moment, he chooses and wants to be. It's hard to say what it is that truly catches his interest...

And, just as a note - of course, we take blood donations.

- - - - - - - ​

Is there even a better business for a vampire to be in other than the business of life? He's existed through many plagues, medical fads, apart of surgeries that some could deem unseemly.

Though, his past curiosity and medical fascination has gotten dusty, dulled, now a lesser used thing - all the colors of life have become seemingly one shade.

His quest for cures, the task of empathy, experiments to better humanity - sometimes, he admits, it converts itself into something completely different.

How he is so openly in control of his instincts? It's often questioned. Even sometimes ridiculed, challenged.

Surrounded by blood, meekness, laying their fragile lives on a platter before him - it's the only thing that's always remained a challenge.

Remembering to sharpen his tools for a delicate cut. To distribute the right dosages for pain. To diagnose and tag the right prices - it's all routine, second nature.

Though, sometimes he forgets.

Or maybe he feels they just don't deserve his effort to remember.

To be a doctor is the same as being the decider of your fate, he's learned.

- - - - - - - ​

Lysander is professional. Put together, old-timey, polite - opening doors, scooting chairs, offering you a hand while crossing the street. Intelligent. A real gentleman.

A gentleman that accidentally laughs when no joke has been told. What do you think it could be that he found humorous?

Dangling a light in the dark, oblivious to the shadows that lurk behind. Meddlesome. Nothing's worse than eternal boredom, he confesses. You don't know what it can do to a person...

His life before becoming the trustworthy sought-after doctor amongst the eternal blood-lust of Lazarus is insignificant now - he's claimed it was an absolute miserable time. A prologue to his existance that ended unkindly, himself deathly ill. Some sort of plague. His entire family dead.

And yet, he finds himself twitch, a twinge of envy, of a time he can barely remember?

Under a stuttering street light, stands an insignificant appearing one-story property, with a stark blinding white neon sign in the window that reads: 'Dr. Kind's Medical Advice'.

Oddly located next store to an abandoned night club, on an unusually quiet and lesser populated street connecting to Silver Crest Blvd, it's been there for as long as most can remember.

For those who are in need, Lysander W. Kind will always be there.
- - - - -​












Lysander W. Kind


designed by bad ending. & coded by xayah.ღ
 
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CALL IT BLACKSTAR,
CALL IT PAINSTAR.​

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AETERNITAS
code by birth of venus.
 
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