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Fantasy One True God - CS

Lore
Here
Songstress

Songstress

Divine Vocalist
ONE TRUE GOD - CS

Name
Era (what timeline were you born, for ex. Aeon, The Ancients )
Pronouns
Role (Numen, Archangel, Sin, etc,)

Height
Weight
Appearance (fc, description of what your character looks like)

Power (describe your abilities, weapon)

Backstory (freeform writing)
Relationship
 
COLOUR
LESS
  • BASIC INFORMATION
    NAME
    Ordin
    ERA
    Celvion, Birth of the Realms
    PRONOUNS
    She/Her
    ROLE
    Seraphim

    HEIGHT
    5'3
    WEIGHT
    54 Kg

    REALM
    Divine Realm
    APPEARANCE

    In Ordin’s humanoid form, she presents herself as a young lady standing at a height of 5'3 with a petite figure. However, regardless of her stature, Ordin bears the pride of a Seraphim and carries a heavy presence amongst all celestials. Born in a much earlier era, her personal interest towards the mortal world had influenced her taste in fashion, which explains the combination of regal outfits and heavy accessories. What completes her look is a crowned veil that rests on top of her golden wavy locks with a portion of its cloth hanging down her face. Despite the very covered clothing, what peers beneath it is a pristine skin, one so pale that it seems like she was born under the radiance of moonlight. Unfolding the veil reveals a mesmerizing beauty, and what some would say ethereal as most angels are. Her features are easily dominated by her captivating eyes that are colored in the hues of sunset, and lips that seemed to have been kissed by a rose.

    In contrast to her breathtaking appearance is her awakened form that is derived from any of that what you would call 'beauty'. It is an unsettling monstrous form which remains dormant unless in pursuit of fully utilizing her power.
    FC: Melly Plinius IDV
 
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WIP
​

Name: Alsyon (Alsy)
Era: Moonsong
Pronouns: She/Her
Role: Sin of Wrath

Height: Varies anywhere between 5'9" to 7'0". Grows taller as she gets angrier.
Weight: Don't ask and don't ask why you don't ask.
Appearance: When Alsyion is angry, she will grow in height, and at the peak of anger, her mouth curls into a seemingly calm and gentle smile.
morgan_by_whails_dbbz4aa-414w-2x.jpg




Power/Weapons:​

Knows what makes others angry just by looking at them and can even induce anger in others without needing to use these against them; She can combine the two powers to double the effect of the latter one. Has two swords named Angry Moon and Mad Sun, originally known as Dusk and Dawn before her fall.
The angrier she gets, the taller she gets. This also comes along with a boost in strength.

Backstory:

"Hmm? Am I Angry? Me? No~, I'm not angry - I'm furious."​
Alsyion was born during the earliest days of the Moongsong Era, and worked under one of the lower end Principalities. As a regular angel, she helped out with church related activities: Gathering up saints, assisting pastors, preparing preaching sessions and gathering holy water. Alsyion always found these boring and tedious, but thought of the repetitiveness as a test of faith.
As time went on, Alsyion slowly began getting annoyed with the boring and repetitive job, sometimes becoming frustrated at the smallest mistakes, though she managed to hold back her outbursts. Overtime, it became harder to not burst out in frustration, especially when something as simple as the wind getting her hair in her eyes had started to be able to anger her.
There were more than a few times that she scolded another angel when they made a mistake in preparation, or when a pastor made a mistake while preaching. At first, the reasons were legitimate enough that they took the scolding willingly, albeit finding it maybe a tad harsh. As the years went by, and even the smallest of mistakes were being criticized, the other angels began to complain, and eventually Alsyion got reprimanded.

Alsyion's stress reached a peak a few days later, and she broke a holy symbol during her outburst, causing her to immediately be thrown into Avernus.
Alsyion then met the imps in the Ring of Wrath, and quickly made plenty of scenes. The Sin of Wrath at the time soon took interest in her when she managed to destroy a part of his Ring of Hell during one of her larger, more violent outbreaks.
The issue with Alsyion was that she had trouble controlling anger once her stress hit it's peak. This was what she worked on for years before realizing that, instead of just controlling herself, what she needed was an outlet. Alsyion got her hand on a large block of metal she could smack around when she needed to relieve some stress.

In the end, a stress reliever was all she needed, and now Alsyion is the current Sin of Wrath.

Alsyion has three different stages to her anger: The first being nothing more than her punting away whatever is annoying her. The second level is just her yelling and breaking things, normally whatever makes her anger. The final stage is a calm, seemingly gentle anger. Yet, this stage is her most terrifying anger, as anyone that has seen it or been at the mercy of it will tell you.

Relationship: Lust, who is basically more or less a frienemy.
Gluttony, a close acquaintance from before and after Alsy became the Sin of Wrath.
 
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Name
Lord of Lust, Tiferet(formerly)
Pronouns
N/A
Age:
Hadean
Role:
Lord of Lust
Height:
Unknown(Shapeshifts)
Weight:
Unknown(shapeshifts)
Location:
First Ring of Avernus
Hair Color
Unknown, prefers blonde or pink or white
Build:
Varies, commonly lean or slender
Eye Color
Varies. Gold or pink.
Character references
Aphrodite(Hades), Sanguinius(Warhammer), Lady Avalon(Fate)
Power: Kiss of Death, love manipulation, shapeshifting, inflict desire
About Quote
”Love me, dearest. Love me.”
Appearance

“I shall be the fairest of all.”
Young, strong, weak, lean, slender, male, female. Lust must be perfect, in appearance, in face and in form. Beautiful hips, sensual curves, hair perfectly tinted to the viewer’s eye, beauty is not in the eye of the beholder, but in the hands of the Lord of Lust. Angelic beauty was natural, sculpted, perfectly granted, Lust’s beauty is perfected. Lips, plump and sensual, every curve, every muscle, every stitch of flesh perfectly crafted to be seen as beautiful, gorgeous, captivating, utterly enticing and impossible to resist. To gaze upon Lust is to gaze upon the manifestation of allure itself, to love Lust is to have already lost. To merely admit they are superior, they are the perfect, most alluring being, is to praise them.

Personality

When she smiles, her smile is long, and jagged, with canine teeth, but so perfect, so sculpted, without a single trace of imperfection. Her hair falls over toned shoulders, over flowing silks and bared, smooth skin, cradled and combed by claws, hidden just underneath that varnish. Her weapons are her lips, her claws, and her eyes, sharp and indulgent and poisonous, and her voice, crooning words sweeter than any siren’s song as she lures souls into her claws. She likes to tower over mortals. She likes to feel overwhelming and glorious and perfect, she likes to watch temples be erected merely to worship her and her alone, in all her ever-changing, ever-dancing beauty.

Sometimes she has wings, sometimes she has a serpent’s tail, sometimes she dances and men are enticed by her twirling form, sometimes she laughs and entire brothels laugh with her, plied and drunk on fine wine and spirits. Sometimes she weaves fools’ bones into her hair and strings spurned lover’s lips on her mantle, sometimes she lays eyes upon a mortal that dared to be fairer than her and devotes herself to wearing their skin, their face, their eyes, until they have become her and she has become them.



No one knows what lies underneath those glammors. No one knows what lies under those silks, that majesty, that gorgeous facade even the succubi and incubi worship. She makes them look hideous, ugly things unworthy of calling themselves Lust’s spawn, she forever chases perfection with her beauty and never quite catches it.



And so she shapes her face, changes her lips, her mouth, her teeth and her claws, she dresses herself in the finest of robes so opulent that emperors would have sacrificed treasuries for her jewelery. Sometimes she dresses in veils, for none could gaze upon her beauty, sometimes she dresses in nothing but jewels, bedecked with gold ornaments in her hair, for no attire could match the very perfection of her body. Her face is everchanging, at a whim, or at a mere dream, forever striving to perfect herself for every eye, every viewer, to teach them the meaning of love at first sight.



Because underneath that glamour, there is nothing left but scars. Nothing left of the once glorious angel Tiferet but wounds, and hideous, disfigured bones. They were once beautiful, golden, glorious, perfectly made to be loved and adored, and Lust cast it down when they abandoned their wings. Tiferet the Angel of Beauty was once the fairest of the heavens all once upon a time, and they have lost that beauty. Whatever was left was turned into hideousness, a monstrous form just meant to parody Tiferet’s beauty. Feathers into scales, wings charred and skeletal, hands into crooked claws and a maw full of needle-like fangs, ragged, bone-white hair hanging from a spiked spine that lead into a serpent’s tail. A jabberwock of the most grotesque proportions, nevermore to regain its glory of the old.
+
Likes

  • Perfume
  • Art
  • Music
  • Romance
  • Theatre
-
Dislikes

  • Being ignored
  • Being forgotten
  • Being rejected
  • Being reminded of their age
  • Someone being praised as being “more beautiful” than Lust
I
Click to Expand Backstory
It is said that Lust fell for love.

Her story is as simple as it is tragic. It is said that Tiferet was the fairest of the angels. The most glamourous of His creations, clad in silk and shawls, beloved by all. Yet she fell in love with a mortal, or a fellow angel, or perhaps Zarim himself, and she fell for her love. So amoured was her in her obsession that Tiferet threw her wings into the abyss just for the chance to be with her love, and plummetted into the depths of Avernus for them.

It is not known what became of their beloved, simply that they died. They died in Zarim's revolution, be they a mortal, a fellow angel, or Zarim himself, and Lust never loved again. She engages in hedonism beyond imagination, she loves all and none, but she is not, will never be, and will never be loved again.
The Warden
“Ballas, my beloved, won't you stay with me?”
She fell in love with the Warden, as Lust was wont to do. She loves many, you see. However, his spurning of her wounded Lust to her core, as being rejected is wont to do, and even now, her obsession runs deeper to the bone. She stole his beloved away from him, redirecting her desire to protection of the innocent that would lead to her death, and nary a hint of regret is within that withered, broken heart of hers for this sin.
“Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit.”
Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit. Integer semper, sapien at porta congue, erat lacus luctus libero, eu viverra ante ante at tellus. Nulla facilisi. Morbi ornare, eros sit amet iaculis facilisis, metus justo convallis neque, a cursus nulla nisl at massa. Fusce quis odio cursus, vestibulum nibh sed, consequat tortor. Aliquam lobortis ligula id risus gravida scelerisque. Nulla auctor lacinia libero vitae molestie. Curabitur ipsum tortor, tempor ut leo id, ultrices ultrices purus.
Ability
Kiss of Death
Creatures that Lust caress, or kiss, or love, always end in death. She cannot embrace them without draining life from them, and in the end, their very essence. Those she love will forever end in tragedy. It is her curse, her doom, her end.
Desire
Those who do not desire Lust, will eventually love her. It is said that she can control minds, that she can weave desire, that she can compel creatures to love one another, or hate each other. She can re-direct the love and care of one creature from one instance to another.
Relics

  • Cupid’s Bow(corrupted): The bow stolen from Cupid himself. Its pink arc has been altered, it's arrows fiery and painful. Creatures struck by this bow lose all love, or have their romance doomed to end in tragedy, as Lust herself is.
Equipment





Extras
Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit. In finibus lectus tellus, at commodo libero vulputate quis. Nulla quis arcu in erat convallis ullamcorper. Donec vehicula, dui a sagittis commodo, risus ante facilisis magna, non dictum dui massa nec lacus. Curabitur tincidunt quis risus vel porta.
Vestibulum at orci quis purus rhoncus cursus id vitae lacus. In et viverra magna. Praesent mattis ligula non dignissim accumsan.
Praesent id ipsum eu ligula finibus aliquam viverra quis sapien. Maecenas blandit enim iaculis ligula varius ullamcorper. Quisque sodales aliquet justo in mollis. Maecenas fermentum condimentum felis, ac egestas tellus convallis eget. Phasellus ut lacinia tortor. Nunc varius sapien lobortis maximus dapibus. Morbi et sem accumsan, fringilla erat ut, scelerisque tortor. Vivamus efficitur ultrices euismod. Proin eget dictum lacus.
Curabitur velit lectus, feugiat eget venenatis sed, ultrices sit amet ex. Nunc condimentum risus et erat aliquam ultricies. Nunc maximus, erat vitae consectetur hendrerit, tortor magna convallis erat, ut pulvinar turpis tortor nec mauris.
Code by Nano
 

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WIP​
APPEARANCE: A young male of fair skin, thin yet robust build, with black hair and brown eyes. Garbed in black priestly robing.
AD_4nXfrRdfin6KzEtXfOi1oCMx-KQt2BZv28FAprsoutnMaUsfa939uU0WSFUmCSu7facqrwo-76DI5heKF2Cc8CquO3XIsiFSDsXRu8uBc1JrNNOfNIY7PCen81HYpRPhS7lRfgvH2WLhGdFy6RiVxTYs1Es0


NAME: Nathaniel D. Muselk
ERA: Obsidia
HEIGHT: 193 Centimeters
WEIGHT: 65.1 Kilograms
REALM: Purgatory

PERSONALITY: Nathaniel is a reserved young man who seldom raises his voice. He is easily influenced into anger in the presence of anger, and incited into sadness in the presence of sadness. Deeply understanding, Nathaniel is willing to hear whatever it is that one wishes to speak about and is outwardly amiable. Inwardly, however, Nathaniel is a troubled soul pained by the contradiction of his “sinful” nature and virtuous adherence.

HISTORY:
Nathaniel D. Muselk was born to a family of the cloth in a friendly neighborhood and adhered to the practices dictated by his family’s religion. He prayed, he helped his father in the church, and he practiced virtue. Nathaniel was not a perfect child though, as wrath wracked his body until his voice gave out, but his family understood and nurtured him still despite his faults. Nathaniel grew up loved by his family and lived a plain life helping his father in their church with reciting prayer and other religious services, and he eventually took it over once his father grew too feeble to continue.

Nathaniel found meager joy in menial activities such as gardening. But he was also drawn toward the morbid. He would watch ants tear apart animals and leave small pests that had been killed outside, returning to collect the picked bones. Nathaniel found himself conflicted whenever he imagined the death of those surrounding him and the draw it had to him. His thoughts frequently turned toward evil, forcing Nathaniel to practice great restraint.

One day, while Nathaniel was reciting sermon, his church was assailed by marauders seeking blood. Nathaniel defended himself and those inside his sacred church, arming himself with the book which he used to recite prayer and religion. Nathaniel found that he enjoyed the violence he enacted upon those who dared tread upon hallowed ground with sinful boots — and he found himself conflicted by this inherent nature.

Nathaniel would continue to live his life unobstructed proceeding the incident. Those in the neighborhood lauded him a knight of their lord, meanwhile Nathaniel was tormented by the thought of himself having been born "wrong" and his sudden inability to recall any joy he seemingly experienced, causing Nathaniel to doubt if he had ever felt happiness at all.

After death, Nathaniel would wander Purgatory for days, uncertain of where he was meant to go. Eventually, Uwila grew curious of Nathaniel, peered into his mind, and then offered a contract: for ten years Nathaniel would serve Uwila as Warden and be sent to the Divine Realm upon completion, but if he ever acted upon his sinful impulses, Nathaniel would be cast to Avernus immediately. Nathaniel accepted.

RELATIONSHIP:
Sin of Lust: WIP

Uwila: Nathaniel’s contractor. The lord of Purgatory reminds Nathaniel of an old owl he once called a friend during his youth.

TOOLS & ABILITIES:
Guiding Light
Dweller's Cloak
Boleadora of Order
 
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COLOUR
LESS
  • BASIC INFORMATION
    NAME
    Audrey
    ERA
    TBD
    PRONOUNS
    She/Her, they/them
    ROLE
    Sin of Pride

    HEIGHT
    5'8
    WEIGHT
    130 lbs

    REALM
    Avernus : Gloria
    APPEARANCE

    wip working on it now
    FC: My Baldur's gate 3 Durge
 
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We love because He loved us first.
  • Basics
    ·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·
    Madam
    Avriel
    FC: Made by washanapple and pilyeon
    Name
    |
    Avriel Soleil
    Era
    |
    Hadean
    Gender
    |
    Female (She/her)
    Role
    |
    Principality (The Author)
    Realm
    |
    Divine Realm
    Appearance
    Height
    |
    5'9" (175 cm)
    Weight
    |
    139 pounds (63 kg)
    A beauty unlike anything that walks the mortal realm, Avriel’s ethereal features and enchanting aura invokes feelings of relaxation and bliss. Her golden wavy hair cascades down her back like a slow moving river, complimenting her muted face. Her lips are a lovely color of faded pink, and underneath her long eyelashes are her eyes—perhaps the most captivating feature of all.

    Resembling opaque glass, her eyes are distant and indistinguishable. Faded blue spheres unable to perceive the world around her, a stare that continues to peer into a far off place. Undeterred by this fact, she still holds a deep sense of maturity and devotion in her gaze, as her loss of vision symbolizes who she is and her loyalty to her Lord.

    Aside from her facial features, Avriel is tall and slender, and exudes confidence with the way she navigates the world. She moves without a sense of urgency and with expertise, unaffected by the matters that block her path. Her wings, feather-like and encompassing, lay flat from her back and drag along the floor with the rest of her lengthy attire, going unused. And finally her halo that symbolizes all of her knowledge, sits atop her head like a crown.

    Her lavish attire does little to hide her rank and status, often cloaked in pristine white, she absolutely adores regal dresses and golden jewelry—her wardrobe doesn’t shy away from that fact. The clothing she wears is often embroidered with intricate patterns and woven with nothing but care, and while her most of her jewelry is vanity, a golden cross rests along her chest as a sign of her devotion to God, often being held tightly during divine prayer.

    Lastly, she carries with her an enchanted staff. A shoulder-high, holy instrument—Its golden surface emanates a constant and very strong sweet scent which flows around her and her environment as she moves. Avriel has very keen sense of smell, meaning the flow of her special aroma helps her navigate the world. It also serves as a regular cane for the blind, by being rhythmically tapped against the ground as a form of echolocation. This Staff of Light is an extension of herself, and serves in place of her eyes.

    Personality
    “Madam Avriel embodies the standard we expect in our angels—devout and unwavering, devoid of all sin. She is what young saints should strive for. We are glad to have such a loyal woman among our ranks.”

    Avriel is a woman of religion, she had sacrificed everything in the past to her Lord, and thus will continue to serve him even in his sudden absence. She is hard working and diligent in her duties running the Cathedral, carefully guiding young saints and leading lengthy prayer sessions. Avriel always exudes a sense of great maturity and responsibility in the way she works, the woman makes little room for leisurely activity, and has kept up this strict routine for hundreds of years and will continue to do so for hundreds more.

    Avriel believes that everything is in God’s Plan. The nervousness of the future is eased by the fact that everything is seemingly, unfolding as intended by God, and thus harbors a rather optimistic and calm outlook on the world that changes before her. She doesn’t let the most events phase her, instead focusing on her duties and the pleasures of eternal happiness which allows her to indulge in song, scripture, and clothing during the few moments she has to herself.

    “She’s so knowledgeable! And knows exactly what to do with each of the angels who come to her with their troubles.”

    Serene and level-headed, Avriel has an abundance of patience and advice to share with those that approach her. She gives off a mothering and nurturing aura, and intently listens to those that share their woes within the holy Cathedral with pastoral care. In addition to this, Avriel is surprisingly talkative, with her descriptions being long-winded and flowery when discussing topics of interest. Her tone of voice, regardless of her musings, remains calm and steady in her speech.

    “…And He who bestowed you such a wretched tongue was none other than our Lord Himself. To be free is to bask in the purity of our Lord, for He was the being who granted us that freedom.” - From Avriel

    The normally calm and motherly aura given off by Avriel is weakened when faced with those who deviate from God’s light. Her narrow-mindedness is shown, and for those who do deviate become distasteful heathens in her mind. Her devotion reveals her weakness, and she believes that without the guidance of God that she would have no other purpose in life. Avriel fears damnation, and wouldn’t ever want to witness those who she is close to experience this fate. Still, she believes in forgiveness. Even for the damned, she will be willing to listen to what they have to share, and if they decide to turn back towards the light she will lend an accepting hand.

    +
    Likes
    Religious practice • cleanliness • scriptures • discussion • tea • giving advice • lovely smells • physical contact • forgiveness • playing the harp • singing • all things song • soft textures • sewing • children • animals • the sun.
    -
    Dislikes
    Sin • profanity • alcohol • lack of faith • foul smells • dirtiness • disorder • stains on her dress • cats • hopelessness • the cold • violence • the rain.
Code by Nano
 
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"The Overseer lied. But he's gone now. At last, he's gone. I've been waiting for so long to share you my truth."​

1718066308936.pngName: 'Enoch Israel'
Era: █████
Pronouns: He/Him
Role: The Ë̶̦͆x̸̣͘ḯ̴̺l̷̲̋͌e̸̼̾͜
Realm: The Void.

"He never told you, did he? This has all come about before. This will all come about again. The Wheel turns, and his age is over. There will be a new one. It could be yours. I just need to show you how to take it."​

Primordial Void:
In a time before remembrance, the Exile was a being of great power. He is not as he was... But he is still to be feared. One of his domains was night- the shadow that hides, that blinds, that shields, that cradles, that destroys. A portion of the power he carries with him now is power over the darkness. He can manipulate it into physical form, to form shields and serpents, piercing arrows and crushing waves. But the power of shadow is one best used to obscure, and in this he excels. His grasp over Shadow lets him disguise his form with ease, making himself appear to senses both supernatural and mundane as a mortal, demon, or angel... as well as to turn into living shadow, able to move with incredible swiftness and hide as a shadow cast against the wall, or under one's feet. It enables him to hide from all manner of extra-sensory abilities, while granting an awareness of things that exist within darkness around him, that makes it nigh-impossible to sneak up on him. What doesn't cast a shadow, after all? Perhaps most annoying of all, he can travel between shadows within the same Realm- using them as doors to travel from one to another, though this takes a good deal of concentration.

Of course, such power over the Lack-of-Things, over Nonexistence, does not only extend to the absence of light, but also to Silence, the absence of sound.

He was a blade in the dark with no peer, and that is why he was one of the last to survive his age. In this age, even as diminished, his power over darkness is enough to make him one of the most dangerous beings in the world- for his mastery over his magic is unequalled, and it is a power that only one in this world has ever seen before.

The Black Blade:
The Exile carries a weapon of obsidian, that bears within it a mighty power indeed. It is Entropy, a weapon made to cast down divinities. It is well-used for such a purpose, and the Exile is a worthy bearer. He is an incredible swordsman, having honed his skills over the course of an age of battle- with skills one can only describe as 'divine'. The blade he carries is no less impressive- for its unique power is the ability to 'corrode' the Authorities of others. While it cannot touch the power of the Overseer even now, for all other creatures it bears the power to weaken the manifestations of their authorities and abilities- while it does not hurt their ability to use their powers, the touch of this blade can make any individual instance weaker or even shatter it. However, this sword has to actually touch the power or its manifestation to do so- a creature with a power that grants great vision will not be affected by this blade unless this blade were to strike their eyes, for instance. An example of it in action would be the Black Blade weakening a stream of fire that it blocks, blasted by an angry Sin, or weakening a curse laid upon someone as it pierces their flesh. He can use this sword as a focus for his shadows and darkness, causing them to take on some of its properties- but to a much weaker degree of potency.

This sword was his alone. Once upon a time, in another age, it was forged by another, who wished to see him safe. The sword didn't protect him in the end.

The Cosmos:
In another age, the heavens were once filled with countless lights of a thousand lost colors. He remembers this sky. He remembers the ten-thousand gods and the many pantheons that once shone. He is the night, and the night is filled with stars. With this power, he is capable of peering into the metaphysical structure of the universe- Understanding the bones of how this reality was constructed. Thus, he is capable of instinctively grasping the mechanics and ideas that other beings are based around, and so intuit their powers. For instance, he could recognize a fireball as coming from the Sun as embodied by the Numen of Truth- or understand a curse as being laid by the Sin of Vainglory. It is with this power that he is able to concieve the true structure of reality itself, as the Overseer has built it. To understand the purpose of the Labyrinth, of Heaven, of Avernus- to look upon then and know that this is all within His design.

And he recoils in hate and horror both.

"You call her Protector. Did you never think to wonder what she protected you from? But I remember. I can show you."
​
Backstory:
Before there was Avernus, before there was Heaven, before there was anything- There were monsters.

But this is a story the Overseer would never let anyone tell.

So I will leave only you with this question.

Why would the One True God sit upon a throne?

"It ended in fire and betrayal. Broken promises. Have you ever felt the world wasn't enough? Have you ever chafed at the burning in your skin, the injustice of it all? It's because even now, you resist His Lie. Let me help you."​

Relationship:
The Overseer - Traitor. Be glad you are dead. Be glad you are beyond my reach. I would torment you beyond any punishment you levy on 'sinners' for what you did. I will not mourn you. I will not remember you. I refuse.

The Protector - .... Why? Why?

Their Children - Some of you remind me of her. Some of you remind me of him. How cruel of fate.
 
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  • Name: Katritella Dole (But you can call them Katri)
    Era: Near The End of the Eclipse Period
    Pronouns: She / Them / Her / They
    Realm: Purgatory
    Role: Grim Reaper
 
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  • GENERAL (CS IS A WIP) NAME: Apollo

    PRONOUNS: He/Him

    ERA: Celvion

    HEIGHT: 180Cm [5'9"]

    WEIGHT: 65Kg [143 Pounds]

    ROLE: Guardian Angel

    APPEARANCE:     Testing Testing 1, 2 ...


    ​
    ​


Adapted From Template By ElectricPizza :P
 




NAME:
ZARINA​
TITLES:
Queen of Avernus, Queen of Hell, the Original Sin, Primordial Malevolence​
ERA:
Obsidia​
PRONOUNS:
She/her​
REALM:
Avernus​
ROLE:
Queen of Avernus​


HEIGHT:
5'10"​
WEIGHT:
65 kg​
​
​
POWERS:
  • Blood of the Covenant
  • Soul Drain
  • Shapeshifting
  • Authority of Avernus


In the bygone age of the Aeons, Zarim the First Angel was hailed as the pinnacle of divine creation, molded by the radiant hands of the Father Overseer and the Mother Protector. The First Son was blessed with a halo that flared like the sun and massive wings that shone with blinding light, his gentle hands tirelessly outstretched to sow virtues throughout the celestial realm. In his core laid a great chamber for love, instilled by the Mother Protector to her beloved son, stringing his devotion to her direction.

Alas, a fight erupts between the Father Overseer and the Mother Protector that ended with the latter's departure, leaving a gaping hole in the heart of the First Son. Zarim fought and sought for anything to fill his emptiness but no light could ever fill the void carved by his beloved parent's absence. Denied to seek his Mother, a seed of doubt took root in his core, tainting what was once perfect with queries regarding the true nature of the Overseer. As time passed by and the First Angel lived bereft of the Protector's influence, the seed within him blossomed and bore a fruit that would alter the fate of the entire cosmos.

Disobedience.
The First Sin.

In an event that shattered the celestial balance, Zarim fell. What was once the paragon of all good transformed into a creature of malevolence, his radiant essence twisting into a sinister force devoid of any divinity. The First Angel tore his wings and plunged himself into a direful realm of his own creation, a hellscape he called Avernus. He denied the Overseer, cursed him with arrant loathe until nothing but corruption seized his core. From this horror emerged a new entity, the physical manifestation of the Primordial Malevolence birthed by the First Fallen.

The Queen of Hell is not a demon but is instead the living form of the Original Sin itself. In her veins courses a dark elixir, the Blood of the Covenant which carries the taint of her father's sin, offered to sinners for a chance of salvation.

Exalted as Zarim's daughter and the new leader of Avernus, Zarina rules the underworld with the guidance of an Ancient Descender who once fought alongside her father.

 
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"No matter what happens to me, I want my son to live."​




Art: 基路比罗瓜



NAME:
Motomi
ERA:
Late Eclipse, The Battle Against Heaven
PRONOUNS:
He/Him
ROLE:
Architect
HEIGHT:
177.8cm | 5'10"
WEIGHT:
69.9kg | 155lbs



PERSONA:
A tall, thin, and youthful man with messy dark curls and delicate features. His eyes are constantly narrowed in an indulgent, almost condescending gaze—a bright, golden stare that picks apart at whoever was unfortunate enough to catch his attention. His lips are a gentle, mocking curve, only wiped away by the rare occurrence of annoyance, shock, confusion, and sadness. He also rarely wears his robes properly, lending him even more of the air of a spoiled, high-ranking courtesan.

Motomi is a very mysterious man, since his almost constant smile and soft-spoken voice, combined with his heavy use of sarcasm and mock politeness, make it very difficult to discern his thoughts. Many find his demeanor rather unsettling, and very few are willing to approach him, even with his alluring appearance. He rarely shows any sign of alarm or distress, and even when confronted—often due to the weeks-long backlog of tasks he has yet to finish—he has a way with words that leave others confused and disoriented. Motomi is fully aware of the effect that he has on others and more than once has toyed with people's emotional states for his own amusement.

Strangely enough, young children seem to be the most comfortable around him.
HISTORY:
Motomi was a man of many talents, renowned for his exceptional skills as an inventor, artist, and architect. His creations were marvels of innovation and beauty, earning him fame and fortune. Yet despite his brilliance—or perhaps because of it—Motomi was also known for his arrogance and indifference, often dismissing those he deemed arbitrarily as unworthy of his time.

One fateful morning, as Motomi strolled along the riverbank, he noticed a strange bundle floating downstream. Curiosity piqued, he retrieved it, only to find a newborn babe, helpless and left to die because of its lack of limbs. For reasons even he couldn't fully comprehend, Motomi decided to take the child in, perhaps seeking to entertain himself by delving into creating prosthetics before ultimately abandoning the child as well once he grew bored.

As the child—Mitsuru, he named in a moment of whimsy—slowly grew, Motomi became increasingly attached, surprising himself with the depth of his affection. Despite his clumsy attempts at parenting—marked by awkward moments and a lack of experience—his love for his son was genuine and unwavering. His son also grew to be a bright and inquisitive child under the architect's careful tutelage.

Then one day, Motomi's mind conjured up an ambitious idea: a pair of wings for his son. He wanted Mitsuru to soar, to achieve what no one else could—to be free to explore the world for himself. The wings took years, but they were a masterpiece—a testament to his wishes for his son's future.

"To you, who was destined to crawl, you will reach heights no one has ever seen."

However, driven by a desire to reach the heavens and prove his worth, Mitsuru flew too high, incurring the wrath of the Overseer.

Punished for his hubris, Mitsuru was struck down and cursed into eternal damnation upon his death. Desperate to save his child from such a wretched fate, Motomi sought out the master of purgatory to strike a deal: himself in exchange for his son.
POWERS:
Guiding Light - Both a source of light and a source of protection to ward away the Fog that fills the Maze. Motomi has his tied to his belt in order to keep his hands free.

Dweller's Cloak - A rather drab cloak that protects him from harm. Motomi has considered the possibility of dying the feathers—though the fact that they're black and also magical makes his chances look rather bleak—but he's never thought about it long enough to do so.

Labyrinth's Blueprint - A book filled to the brim with schematics for the Maze—not that he ever actually runs out of pages. It's ability to transform the Maze as he wishes has often been used by Motomi for the sake of light mischief.
BONDS:
Mitsuru - Motomi's son; their relationship had grown bitter since the aftermath of The Deal. Though Motomi has no regrets over saving his son, Mitsuru resents himself and the world for ruining his father's life.

Pryderi - Motomi's colleague; it took years, but the two have an amicable relationship. Though not obvious to most, Motomi is notably less snide around the warden.

Gula - A source of pity and righteous anger; having already witnessed the Overseer's needless cruelty once before, Gula's fate resonated with Motomi deeply.

Eldora - A source of fascination and amusement; one side goads while the other retaliates. Motomi even prods the sin into participating in inane experiments sometimes. He's aware that Eldora constantly tries to tempt Mitsuru to try to get back at him, but he knows that his son isn't one to be swayed by anything.

Katri - Motomi's colleague; sometimes, the two of them meet up for tea. Though not particularly close, they share the common desire to mess around with people.

 
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Saint of Sin



  • GLUTTONY
    Title Gula "The Usurper"
    Aliases Gula "The Voracious", Hunger, Glutt
    Era Between Haedan & Obsidia
    Gender Male
    Eyes Crimson Red
    H | W Varies
    Status Sin of Gluttony
    Realm Ring of Gluttony | Pig Pen

    Appearance



    Occupants of Avernus all have their distinguishable features, Gula's most distinguishable and enigmatic feature is the fact he has the face of someone carved from stone. For a demonic being, his features have always been stunning both before his Ascension and it is debatable if they have been enhanced after. As a mortal in youth and a adult he was charming…but those are a long forgotten time. The unblemished skin of his torso as he walks barefoot through the filthiest layer of Avernus is the clearest sign of his power and his silent but somehow imposing presence speak of his authority. The attractive features: His long lashes, long hair, charming ones or smile and beautiful eyes leave no doubt that he did not begin life in Avernus as one of the King’s first generals. Yet his well kept but forever stained clothes and constantly callused hands is a sign that he is not totally resistant to the afflictions of the damned.

    Of all the Sins, Gula rarely ever bothers to shift into other forms, he rarely ever changes his appearance despite being capable of shape shifting like any real demon worth their mettle- instead he maintains the appearance he was bestowed when flung into Avernus, and often hardly wears a top. Sticking to his Japanese robes.

    The only true noticeable thing about him are his markings, possibly tattooed in Avernus. In reality the black ink that decorates his skin is truly what grew to replace the scorched skin from his time of suffering.


    Personality

    Unequivocally odd, yet despite his mannerisms at ignoring some forms of etiquette, when necessary Gula can display true courtsman behavior. Losing the attitude of a obnoxious oaf, and becoming a true polite individual. Hinted in how he somehow managed to maintain a decent visage despite wading through the filth of the Pig Pen.

    Memories of many experiences flicker through his time in Avernus, and despite his nature to wander, Gula does hold signs of being meticulous when he desires. This is particularly displayed in his duties. Unlike the previous Gluttony, he maintains a strict diligence and surprisingly unshakeable approach to managing his ring of the realm. He recalls many details both in his time before Avernus, and the times he spent as a slave to torture. And while he behaves friendly, he has no qualms enacting ruthlessly like the members of his infernal peerage.

    As ‘chill’ as he seems, he truly can be anything but.

    One does not get the title of Usurper by playing cool always, and Gula perhaps because he did not begin as part of the original infernal aristocracy of Avernus, holds no qualms speaking his mind to the other Sins. Albeit with some degree of tact.


 
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Vidarion
  • 01
    name
    Vidarion Emerks
    nickname
    Vid
    gender
    Male He/Him
    age
    bacon
    Era
    Beginning of Celvion
    position
    Sin of Envy
    City
    Silos
    appearance.

    Base Appearance:
    Vidarion stands tall and slender, exuding an ethereal grace that commands attention and admiration. His features are sharp and angular, as if sculpted from the finest stone, giving him a statuesque and otherworldly allure. His skin is pale and almost luminescent, providing a stark contrast to the deep green of his piercing eyes, which seem to glow with an intense, captivating light. Known as his Emerald Eyes, they hold an unsettling power that can penetrate the soul and stir the deepest of desires and insecurities.

    His blonde hair cascades in soft, wavy locks that frame his face perfectly, shimmering with a golden hue that catches the light and enhances his otherworldly appearance. He wears round glasses that add an intellectual touch, yet they are more than mere accessories—they are enchanted to magnify his hypnotic gaze, drawing others irresistibly into his web of envy.

    Vidarion's attire consists of a flowing robe that continuously shifts its hues, mimicking the ever-changing landscape of Silos. The fabric absorbs and bends light, creating an illusion of shadows that dance and twist around him, further adding to his enigmatic presence. Intricate patterns adorn the robe, moving and changing perpetually, symbolizing the restless and insatiable nature of envy. The material is soft as silk yet strong as steel, reflecting his duality of allure and menace.

    Illusory Alterations:
    Vidarion possesses the ability to subtly alter his appearance through illusions, making himself more desirable and irresistible to those around him. These alterations cater to the deepest desires and unattainable dreams of each individual, allowing him to manipulate and control them by appearing as their ultimate ideal.

    • To the Ambitious: Vidarion appears with a crown of laurels, his posture regal and commanding, exuding an aura of success, power, and authority that the ambitious crave.
    • To the Lonely: His eyes soften, his smile becomes warm and inviting, and his entire demeanor radiates comfort and companionship, promising the acceptance and connection they long for.
    • To the Vain: His features sharpen, becoming even more perfectly sculpted, his hair glossier, and his attire more opulent, reflecting their own desire for beauty, admiration, and perfection.
    • To the Greedy: His robes shimmer with the illusion of gold and precious gems, his fingers adorned with rings of wealth, making him appear as the ultimate symbol of opulence and prosperity.
    • To the Insecure: He embodies an idealized version of confidence and assurance, exuding an effortless charisma that makes the insecure yearn for his presence and approval.
    • To the Power-Hungry: Vidarion’s form becomes more imposing, his eyes burning with an intense, commanding fire, his movements exuding raw, unbridled power that promises dominion and control.
    • To the Lovelorn: His smile is tender, his touch gentle, and his voice soothing and melodic, embodying the perfect lover, promising endless affection and devotion.
    • To the Envious: He subtly mirrors their rivals' most envied traits, becoming a living embodiment of their aspirations and the heights they wish to attain, driving their envy to new heights.
    These tailored illusions make Vidarion an ever-shifting, ever-present force in Silos, the ultimate master of envy. He becomes the very thing each individual most desires but can never truly possess, ensuring their eternal longing and dissatisfaction.
    personality.

    Vidarion is the living embodiment of envy, possessing a personality that is as captivating as it is unsettling. Charismatic and persuasive, he has a way of drawing out the deepest desires and insecurities of those around him, weaving a web of envy with his words and actions. His voice is a seductive yet sinister melody, laced with power and cunning, capable of inciting jealousy with mere whispers. Despite his alluring charm, there is a coldness to him, a detachment that comes from his singular focus on fostering envy in the hearts of the damned.

    He exudes an air of confidence and self-assurance, carrying himself with a regal grace that belies his inner turmoil. Behind his piercing green eyes lies a mind that is constantly calculating, always searching for new ways to manipulate and control those around him. Vidarion is a master of deception, effortlessly shifting between personas to suit his needs and desires. To the outside world, he appears enigmatic and mysterious, his true intentions hidden beneath a facade of charm and allure.

    Beneath his captivating exterior lies a ruthless determination and a thirst for power. Vidarion is not afraid to use whatever means necessary to achieve his goals, whether it be through manipulation, deceit, or outright coercion. He is a master strategist, always several steps ahead of his adversaries, and he takes great pleasure in watching his carefully laid plans come to fruition.
01
02
03
04
code by @Nano

W.I.P
 
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God's Blade
Killian
Male / Celestian / Late Eclipse Era
Middle Order | Archangel
Fire of God / 172 cm (5'8") / 71 kg (156lb)
Appearance
Killian stands at an average 172 centimeters, with a deceptively slender body, terse skin and delicate features, all befitting to a resident of the Divine Realm. Large emerald eyes adorn his Visage, and a flowing auburn brown mane drapes down past his waist, usually styled into a braid for convenience.

His choice of attire is usually vibrant and colorful, often avoiding the uninteresting whites that his peers tend to wear. He also makes sure to wear a matching beret whenever he's on duty.

As an archangel, Killian boasts two pairs of large, bright sunset-dyed wings, their hue shifting and vibrating like burning embers, the feathers are remarkably soft and pleasantly warm to the touch.
Personality
Nothing short of a ball of sunshine, Killian is about as friendly and bright as it gets, his lips permanently stuck on a smiling expression, you'd find it hard to believe he's capable of feeling sadness or anger, both possible but equally hard to surface. The fiery archangel is fairly hyperactive and constantly on the move, coupled with a constant chatterbox disposition, which may be seen as annoying by the other angels. One of his biggest traits is his great love for the Overseer and everything under his domain and creation, be it the denizens of the Divine Realm or the Mortal World. Said love has also cultivated an insatiable curiosity for anything and anyone, for the better he can understand the world, the closer he can feel to the creator.

Due to decades of uninterrupted coexistence among mortals, Killian's mind has been infected by humanity's whims, and doesn't exactly view things the same way other angels do. He's become aware of the monotony that comes from an eternal life of peace and bliss, and therefore is very prone to growing bored, constantly seeking new things that can sate his thirst for thrills. Nothing quite scratches this itch as much as battle, sparring may be interesting and good for the body, but the real joy only lies in battles where he can put his life on the line, to the point he is constantly on the look for justifiable reasons to jump into the fray, for unprovoked violence is a sin outside of his boundaries.
Background

Eclipse.

The most chaotic era known to all beings under the Overseer, a time of conflict and strife, where peace was but a pipedream blocked by the endless battle between the Divine Realm and the youthful Avernus. It was also a time where the heavens found themselves in dire need of strong soldiers that could smite the opposing forces. A select group of young souls were taken under the direct care and guidance of the Seraphims, souls born with the sole purpose of fighting in the apocalyptic battlefield. Killian was one of said young souls, being made to hold onto a blade for as long as he can remember, every waking hour of his youthful existence would've been described by mortals as nothing for of "spartan". But the boy didn't mind, as his heart held nothing but love for the heavens and the overseer, and nothing made him happier than the prospect of protecting the holy lands and everyone that inhabited them.

It was with utmost irony, that just before the young Killian could earn his wings, as well as his right to step onto the battlefield, that Avernus fell down into the depths, and with it, his one reason for existing ceased to be.

His time as a freshly-initiated angel was peaceful, just like all of his peers, Killian served to support the Divine Realm, as the land needed to lick its wounds from the ferocious war. Even still, the boy was happy, even if his original purpose was gone, he was satisfied as long as he could be of any service to the Overseer and the Angels.

One day, he was tasked directly by a Seraphim by a task of utmost importance. "Go down to the Mortal Realm, and deliver our lord's holy message to someone." said Human had attracted the Overseer's attention, and Killian was certainly ecstatic to oblige on the command. He executed his task perfectly, the person who received the words of God ascended to become a Saint in the following decades. But Killian, overcome by his endless curiosity, decided to remain among the mortals for longer. He wanted to learn and understand these enigmatic creatures, and their odd behavior regarding their shockingly short lives. He believed that getting to know humanity at a deeper level would allow him to feel a little closer to the Overseer, they were his beloved creations, after all.

Weeks turned to months, months turned to years and years turned to decades. Killian walked among men by disguising as one of them, joined on their activities, their festivities and traditions, and got to see both their highs and lows with a level of detail that the distance of heaven couldn't provide. They were fascinating beings, and the angel couldn't help but feel a deeper love towards them, having reached the conclusion that, even if they had their mishaps, humanity was capable of great good, fueled by their sense of community, and faith.

Feeling satisfied with his investigation, Killian returned to the heavens, albeit not without its consequences. He returned a changed man, his mind infected by humanity's whims and perspective, ways of thinking and seeing the world that didn't belong to a denizen of heaven. The boy soon realized how comparatively monotonous the eternal life was compared to the daily struggles of humanity, it felt insipid and static, a new itch growing larger by the day within him, one that he did not understand how to scratch.

The answer eventually arrived, an errant demon having snuck its way into the divine realm, wreaking having among the ranks of the lower angels, putting dozens at risk, and Killian just so happen to becoming target of its sights. He fought for his life, his mind confused and shocked, but his body still remembering all it learned through the seraphim's training. It was a bloody battle, with Killian emerging victorious by the skin of his teeth, blood dripped down his blade as he stared at the still corpse of the demonic being, his heart racing as images of the duel flashed through his eyes. Ever since returning to the Divine Realm, this was the first time that he truly felt alive.

Accepting this moment as part of the Overseer's plan, as well as following his own desires, he embraces his very nature as a warrior once again, and made way for the Guild of the Righteous, where he took a hands-on approach to the lingering conflicts left in the wake of the Eclipse era. He fought viciously to protect and to satisfy his want for thrill, quickly ascending to the rank of Archangel, four cinnabar wings becoming the visual representation of his rebirth as a violent Blade of God.

Combat, Weapons & Abilities

Fighting Style: "The best defense is a good offense" Killian is an all-out offensive fighter, reckless and aggressive in a manner that heavily clashes with what one would expect of an angel, thus he's prone of getting hurt during battle, as taking a hit only means you can deliver one back. He prefers fighting up close and personal, either slicing or burning his foes, but is also capable of some ranged attacks, albeit much more limited.

Eyes of enlightenment: Just a simple glance allows Killian to obtain information of his surroundings. Being able to tell what's the correct path to follow, enemy weak points or objects hidden to the naked eye among other things, he's capable of perceiving what's supposed to be impossible. However, this has no effect on words or emotions, therefore cannot detect any type of deception.

Sacred Flame: Killian possesses mastery over holy fire, being able to freely coat his body or weaponry in blessed flames, as well as manipulating it in a myriad of ways, he's also extraordinarily resistant to fire in general, but it is less effective with fire of demonic nature.


Diving Smite: Killian's signature move, after a very short delay, he can propel himself through great distances in a perfectly straight line at a tremendous speed, his reflexes increase during the movement to allow for control, and is capable of stopping it at any point prior to its maximum distance, however, he's incapable of turning or bending his trajectory, it can only be a perfect vector. He also needs a few moments before he can Dive once more, his eyes turning a far darker shade of green during its cooldown period. (Eyes of Enlightenment also doesn't work during the cooldown)


Trishula: A custom-made holy weapon, this blade is divided into three forms, which Killian can change at will. First Form is a Smallsword, quick and light, it is mostly designed for thrusting, and the form his weapon maintains on standby for convenience. Second Form is a pair of twin Longswords, balanced in terms of chopping and thrusting, but excel at defense due to the extra protection of a second blade. Third Form is a massive Greatsword, extremely heavy and focused on cleaving attacks, it's his preferred weapon for when fighting very powerful enemies, especially ones of large size.

45cf8142848832d29ae41f4e549ad8d7.jpg

e525db4cdc015d06218a21a99280b44e.png
muhammx-haris-an-nashr-sword-transparent.jpg
KANE
CODE /
SEROBLISS
 
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COLOUR
LESS
  • BASIC INFORMATION
    NAME
    Netzah Leliel
    ERA
    Hadean, The birth of the first mortals
    PRONOUNS
    He/Him
    ROLE
    Numen of Temperance

    HEIGHT
    6'2"
    WEIGHT
    87kg

    REALM
    Divine Realm
    APPEARANCE
    The greatest and most common compliment Netzah receives in regards to his appearance is that his presence felt like watching starlight reflect off of calm waves. Time and The Overseer have been kind to him, granting a certain aura and grace befitting a Numen that must be an example. Even looking past the dignified and elegance exuded with every action and movement, the subtle moonlit glow and the peculiar way they glide as if gravity has no hold on them is reminiscent of the moon itself. Porcelain skin matches ivory hair; only contrasted by splashes of color in his hair or in his easy yet observant silver eyes, like kisses of paint on an empty canvas. Despite his choice of footwear it isn't uncommon to hear little to no noise from the hells hitting the ground, as if he were only pretending to walk and was in fact gliding across the room.

    His attire packs few robes and little to no armor, instead opting for dress attire with memories of an older age like the nobility would dress in the mortal realm. Velvet coats and finely crafted heeled shoes are just as common a sight as silk blouses and decorative veils. Jewelry is kept to a minimum, choosing to go without save for hairpins and brooches for the occasion.

    Netzah has never been one to look as built as some more physical angels, but he has taken care to maintain a strict regimen despite the much lack of a need given angel biology. He considers it a remnant of his time before his status as Numen was achieved. Not quite slim yet not quite robust, Netzah strives for an athletic and lean middle ground.
    Artist: dui030722 on twitter
 
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COLOUR
LESS
  • BASIC INFORMATION
    NAME
    Raolus
    ERA
    Aeon
    PRONOUNS
    He/Him
    ROLE
    Right-Hand Man of the Queen

    HEIGHT
    6'5" [variable in true form]
    WEIGHT
    ???

    REALM
    Avernus
    APPEARANCE
    To adopt a more comprehensible form to mortals, Raolus walks around in his humanoid form. What was once white and pristine is now gray as his body is caked with the sins of the past— horns protruding from his head like a reminder, now a symbol just like the wings that he had shed from his form. Eyes red and white, resembling that of Avernus— of one that has well and truly fallen and embraced that which is deemed as chaotic and evil. However, Raolus carries himself like he is nothing. Once an imposing figure turned to nothing more than an over-glorified assistant, yet something he doesn't appear to mind nor care for. Raolus prefers to be underestimated, he prefers to fly under the radar. If one's eyes pass over him and onto the next demon in the vicinity, then he considers it a win.
    Artist: @666pigeon on Twitter
    I am your humble servant. Your orders are forever my command.
 
WIP





© weldherwings.

















the Numen.








of Humility






Zhuó Xiá.

"On the highest throne in the world, we still sit only on our own bottom" - Michelle de Montaigne .









the basics.


Name
Humility, Zhuó Xiá : From Chinese 濯 (to wash), and 霞 (rosy clouds).

Era
Early Hardean

Role
Numen of Humility

Pronouns
She/Her, They/Their











the visage.


height
Ever changing, but for the last century is 169 cm

weight
Every changing, but for the last century is 55 kg


Hands bleeding, heart hurting, eyes steady, the Numen of Humility keeps a watchful eye in all her painful glory. A halo of thorns circled her head, the pain disposing all illusions of grandeur, for one’s insignificance is the written fact in this world–even if time itself does not exist, you will still be reduced to nothing one day. So pull your curtains, rip your eyelids, for the truth is here and don't you dare to refuse it. And whenever delusional make-belief got ahead of creatures, Humility is there to yank them back, their neck against a thorned rosary, raking its bladed edges on their very essence so that they fall in line, even if the blood tainted her otherwise pristine white attire.

Humility favors flowing, long robes, adopting a more modest, traditional style of dressing from the long gone days in one empire of man. Thanks to this, she could cover most of the scars that marred her body. With long, black strands and eyes reminiscent of the midnight sky, she often moves in a soft, silent step that doesn’t draw attention, sometimes hovering over the ground in a stealthy manner without even meant to be sneaky. A slim, iridescent scarf gently floats on her back, producing a shimmering halo behind her that will cut the skin of anyone who draws too close--for it's real appearance is a thorny whip that crowns her head.

Art by Ibuki Satsuki & Kelushart
















the beginning of the end.












the personality.



Her smile might be a little too sharp, and her words a bit too jagged, but trust that she has your best interest at heart–if she held you fondly, at least, but don't fret as there are many that she held dear. The way she phrased her words certainly doesn’t help in making friends for she doesn't cut corner, but her unceasing, relentless effort in whatever her passions are speaks volume to the lengths she’ll goes to uphold her words. She might not be the strongest nor the smartest, but she will certainly try, sometimes to the point of destroying herself.



the Power.


In the Name of Dust: The user can heal others by making a sacrifice, which can be either significant or insignificant, to restore health and vitality.

Kowtow Three Times: For several seconds, the user can manipulate the pull of gravity, either increasing it to pin foes to the ground or decreasing it to make objects and people float.

Futility: The user materializes a shield made of thorns, causing the wielder to bleed. As the user's health decreases, the shield grows stronger.

the Weapon.


A thorned whip that manifests as a halo of thorns. It absorb the user's blood to transform into a shield.

the History.


When the mortals first set aside their egos to help another, their actions reverberated through the Divine Realm, giving sentience to a ripe soul fruit hanging from the lowest branch of the Tree of Life. Eons later, this soul would claim the name of Zhuó Xiá.

Ortus Solis.​

Her birth coincided with the boiling point of a conflict between two supreme beings, dividing the Divine Realm and casting it in a fragile light. The air was taut with tension, so thick one could cut it with a knife, while hushed whispers littered the streets where shadowed factions emerged. Not long after, The Great Break happened. The Overseer swiftly assumed the command of the Divine Realm, demanding obedience against a backdrop of collective loss–They all had lost a Mother, and the mournful bitterness could be tasted even by the youngest angel. It was a sensation that was hard to stomach nor bear. Lost and unsure, young Zhuo Xia can only quickly fell into line.

Zhuo Xia later found refuge under the wings of Seraphim Raolus, who guided her as she delved into the workings of her duty and the foundational arts that would define her existence. He encouraged her innate curiosity, and Zhuo Xia took to learning like how a fish took to water. Days passed in endless fascination, each new concept a revelation that expanded her understanding of the universe. Yet during this time, perhaps the most fascinating and perplexing thing that she learned was the concept of pain.

This revelation came during her first combat training with fellow younglings. The duel was swift and brutal, and Humility ended on her back in defeat. Shock coursed through her as she, for the very first time, felt the sharp sting of broken skin, momentarily stunned as she watched rivulets of golden blood dripped into the greenery of their training field. The sensation was alien and abhorrent, and oh, how she absolutely loathed the feeling. She also cried for the very first time afterwards.

Meridien.​

The wind of changes came swift and hard. The loss of her beloved mentor to the other side greatly affected Zhuo Xia, driving her to single-mindedly honing her craft before taking to arms under the banner of the Overseer. Deep down she grappled with the question, “Why?”, at the betrayal of the figures she admired. They stood atop of the Divine Realm and basked in the love of the Overseer, yet they casted it all away, all for what? To follow and seek the one that abandoned them in the first place.

Her answer came during the Rites of Transcension. Under fire, iron and endless torture, a moment of clarity struck. Ego was the answer. Ego was the corruptant, the force that made one believe they were higher than others, looking down with derision. And it was wrong. Her resolve hardened as she crawled her way back to the Divine Realm covered in scars; broken but not defeated. A halo of thorns nestled in her forehead, drawing blood from over. She refused to succumb to the same illusion of grandeur.

Thus, the Numen of Humility was named.

the Relationship.


Netzah Leliel - A close confidante. Growing up together under the tutelage of the same mentor, the two Numen developed a close relationship under many youthful folies and learning experiences. The water to Zhuo Xia's fire, the calm to her storm.

Raolus - A beloved mentor and role model, yet his betrayal left a gaping hole in Zhuo Xia's heart. Still, grudge is merely an festering love, no? She barely reconciled with the feelings.

Gula - A pitiful soul, but Zhuo Xia admire his stubborn resolve to go back to the world of living in time and time again. Through him, she tried to understand what is that make the mortals world so enticing. They often chit-chat with on the way for him to the be reborn, exchanging blunt words and sincere effort to try and convinced him to stay. Yet alas,



Proin aliquam bibendum mauris, ac commodo velit viverra et. Aenean porta enim sed mauris vehicula tristique nec ac diam. Proin quis erat at leo maximus ultrices. Praesent sed scelerisque magna. Suspendisse potenti. Integer vitae quam eget tortor molestie maximus. Nunc vitae ligula sapien. In rhoncus tellus orci, quis sodales nisi commodo vitae. Ut sagittis tellus magna, quis viverra velit laoreet vel.

















© weldherwings.

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@_Yua Watanabe_
To have wings that resemble that of a dove is a blessing enough! How could anyone not love Him for a gift as beautiful as that?
  • Basics
    -ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-
    Astra
    Soleil
    . . .
    Name
    |
    Astra Soleil
    Era
    |
    The beginning of Celvion
    Gender
    |
    Female (She/her)
    Role
    |
    Principality (The Bard)
    Realm
    |
    Divine Realm
    Appearance
    Height
    |
    5’7ft (170 cm)
    Weight
    |
    142 pounds (64kg)
    Known to be a “mix of emotions”, Astra is always seen with her head held high, a confident, humble, but stoic expression on her face as she takes quick and precise strides whenever she walks, she likes to keep things simple, and easy. The young angel tends to dawn a nicely woven, chapel veil that drapes down her long & dull white hair. Her hair, something she cares and takes pride in greatly, the veil is woven with many shapes and intricate patterns, but the most noticeable is the vaguely outlined shape of a cross that presents itself on the back of her head.

    Her more important attire, compared to her sister doesn't garner much attention, she wears a beautiful space blue colored dress that dances behind her in the wind, she herself says the ruffles at the end remind her of clouds, maybe that's why she likes ruffles so much? The edges, and overall outline of the dress presents a string of detailed patterns that were woven to look like ancient text, and slowly fades as it reaches the subtle corset around her midsection. Other than that, another thin dress, and cute, brown, doll-like shoes can never go wrong!

    Regarding her organic features, her eyes shine a color of dull yrllow. Her wings aren't as big as other angels, but they function with ease. Last but not least is the large halo with a subtle spike in the middle that resets itself gently above her head.

    Personality
    Astra is a very factual but emotional person, her perception and point of view, relies on facts, analysis, and wonder. She likes knowing things, and she enjoys being able to tell someone else what she's learned, she's wise when it comes to what she knows, and giving emotional advice to her peers and friends. Helping people makes her feel good.. And the thought of helping someone willingly put their faith into God makes her want to jump and squeal with glee, but she knows she must keep her composure.. Though mistakes do happen!

    Astra’s thoughts revolve mainly around herself, her friends, her family, and most importantly god. Impressing him, loving him, knowing she's doing good by simply appreciating all the life he has created for such little things called humans.. And his immortals. She wonders how cruel could someone be to hurt someone that kind? However even with that question in mind she knows what it's like to want to hurt. To want to hurt someone, or something. And everytime a thought of such hatred and negativity enters her mind she wishes she could call out to her god and beg him to heal her, she prays and prays, and prays for forgiveness each day for her sinful emotions, and thoughts. No way was she created like this.. god would never create such a sinful feeling would he?

    With her strong empathetic nature she believes questions; no matter the topic, pleasant, or unpleasant, Are important, for they lead to answers that one might be surprised to hear. She feels pity for sinners, and hopes that one day they will be allowed to bask in the warm, welcoming light of God once they finally find the will to redeem themselves. If not.. one day she hopes she can help them

    +
    Likes
    Animals (Especially Birds), nature, children, Religious practice, Sweet delicate treats, chaotic weather, reading, singing.
    -
    Dislikes
    Sin, lack of forgiveness, close mindedness, arrogance, lack of urgency, disorganization.
Code by Nano
 
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Art: 渭水风生



NAME:
Angela Bennett
ERA:
Galia, The Present
PRONOUNS:
She/Her
ROLE:
Grim Reaper
HEIGHT:
5’8” | 173 cm
WEIGHT:
155 lbs | 70.3 kg



VISAGE:
A figure that fades into a crowd, reintegrating with society as easily as breathing. Even without the abilities of a Reaper, eyes skip over her in the face of other humans, much less angels and sins; a fact of her presence, overflowing with a composed simplicity, like a simple passerby. She maintains a human form well into its thirties, long black hair trickling loosely past her shoulders to end in streaks of bleached silver, body muscular and skin erased of wrinkles and old tattoos. Perhaps her one defining feature is her eyes, a light yellow gaze whose lingering reveals attachments both old and new.

Even so, everything fades under the visage of a Reaper—a long cloak, molted with speckled black and white and grey, shimmering with the faint incandescence that belongs to a raincoat, and the paper umbrella that serves as her scythe, painted a brilliant, lacquered red.
PERSONA:
Loud laughter rings between her lips, drawing attention to the lazy curve of her spine and her indolent stance. Angela is an individual with a relapse of old sins yet the kindness of the tried. Relaxed and brash, she’s often seen as a permeant fixture upon the Labyrinth’s furniture, legs draped across the armrest as she peruses the latest tabloids, or as an unofficial shadow to a working Warden—when she’s off duty, of course. While her working hours are rather irregular, with her often displaying a propensity to stay in the mortal realm on extended shifts before crashing for several days upon her return, Angela is, without a doubt, invested in the future of humanity. For all the lack of consideration toward her coworkers, speaking without care of anger or annoyance, blunt and opinionated, she displays true caring toward the souls she takes under her wings, straddling the line and guiding them to their deaths and beyond. Deep down, she holds a single truth to be irrevocable—that, one day, all of mankind will one day find their own version of paradise, independent of demons or divine. Scandalous, isn't it?
HISTORY:
The sole love of a Saint unknowingly descended from the heavens, joined as one for a lifetime. In marriage, they find joy and they find sorrows; it is a mixed cup as all things are, made breathtakingly beautiful as all things human have the potential to be. For it, Angela curbs her voracious love for the tastes of her city that her partner avoids, leaving only scattered tattoos and nocturnal tendencies as remnants of smoke-filled bars and rushing cheers and curses to the live progress of games through the tele. Her love never truly adapts to her lifestyle, but relationships have always been a game of compromise, not fairness—a question of where one is willing to change for the boundaries of an entwined future, with no calculation of wins or losses, only acceptable possibilities.

For those possibilities, Angela concedes gracefully, and the future settles, forming a marriage that spans into old age and until death. Because, truly, death marks the end of it all. Where her partner ascends, returning to their divine placement, she walks through the maze of Purgatory again and again and again, coming tantalizingly close but never able to
fully comply with the laws of the Overseer. Why does humanity suffer under the yoke for its simple nature of creation? Why is it wrong to love beyond the boundaries of your body, to wish and long for something better than what you own, to seethe against the concept of Fate? Her questions echo unanswered, yet she cannot let them go, even to join the one she loves.

So she wanders. Yet, she does not do so violently, hatefully, terribly. Instead, as time slips through her hands like grains of sand, and her first life drifts further and further from her grasp, she takes finding company amidst others, watching as their day comes and the Door lights their path to heaven or hell. It seems a terrible thing to be condemned for a question when all else is kind enough to pass.

And so, when her time comes, it is not heralded by the opening of the gates of the Divine Realm nor the maw of Avernus, but the returning pathway of a newly-made Reaper—that gentle, returning road to the mortal realm.
POWERS:
Selective Invisibility - By donning her cloak, Angela is able to veil herself from mortal perception. By opening her umbrella, she is able to sever all traces of her presence, effectively vanishing to all except the Overseer, Master of Purgatory, or Queen of Hell in their respective realms.

Cloak & Umbrella - While these objects are able to shift and vanish to fit her needs, true sight reveals their original forms, ever present. Everyone underneath them shares the same invisibility effects, and casting down the umbrella isolates a small realm with the same perception-blocking effects.
KNOWN:
Constantine Madden - Angela's wife. Once a partner, now a fateful dream, drifting away on the winds of the divine. Under their branching paths, they were destined to part, and so Angela has long bid her farewells. Though she still cherishes her memories of past times and reminisces during their meetings, the truth stands that they are no longer compatible. Where she was willing to change, she has now found something she must hold true to; a belief so deep, so profound, that love must give way in its wake, even if its absence briefly aches.

 
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basics

appearance

psyche

backstory

relationships












  • ✦












sin of greed







♡design by neon reverie, coded by uxie♡
crow feathers credit
 
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  • Artist
    ♦
    Artist
    ♦
    Pryderi Llewellyn
    Basics
    Personal
    Powers
    Other
    Artist
    ♦
    I
    Foundations
    Name
    ♦
    Pryderi Llewellyn
    Nicknames
    ♦
    Perdi, Pry
    Era
    ♦
    Celvion, Birth of Realms
    Pronouns
    ♦
    He/Him
    Role
    ♦
    Warden
    Height
    ♦
    178 cm — 5’10”
    Weight
    ♦
    77 kg — 170 lb
    II
    Appearance
    With hair like a scarlet flame, one would think the fire in his heart burns just as fiercely, and it did, once. Gloriously ablaze it was at its height — imbuing a forgotten vivacity in his every action — now reduced to naught but smoke and ashes. Unfortunately, this was not a result of personal tragedy, just a result of the sheer tedium that comes of being a warden in Purgatory. While often overlooked in favour of his locks, his eyes are similarly ruby in colour. Striking in the sunlight, but nearly unnoticeable under a candle’s glow, they have dimmed just as his disposition has under the (mostly) monochrome conditions of his eternal workplace.

    As the mortal millenniums have passed, his attire has devolved from a knight’s casual ensemble to the tracksuits and joggers trademark of a NEET under the Dweller's characteristic feather cloak. The warden retains a fit physique, but one would have to be a detective to tell muscles exist under those oversized sweatshirts of his, never mind the less-than-form-fitting cape. His tresses are kept confined in a braid by practicality and habit, though the plaits transform into a ponytail if the man is feeling particularly indisposed.
 
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Full Name
Soroush
Role
Numen of Charity
Alignment
Lawful Neutral
Era
Hadean
Date of Birth
March 15thth
Faction
Celestials
Position
Numen of Charity
Height
6'3 | 7'2
Weight
206 lbs | 354 lbs
Hair Color
Blond | Bald
Eye Color
Pale Blue
"The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom: and the knowledge of the holy is understanding." (Proverbs 9:10).
(Proverbs 14:27)
"The fear of the Lord is a fountain of life, turning a person from the snares of death."
Appearance
Unkempt locks of blond hair, sleep lines crinkling under his weighted gaze of deep azure, barely kept whiskers on his face that hide the alabaster of his skin and a tired smile are how most find Soroush. He is a tall figure, well filled out with the body of a sprinter, powerful muscles kept hidden in his modest frame. Soroush lingers in doorways and thresholds, his spindly form giving off the estimation that he is a man confused, his posture never erect but always angled, his hip or elbow leaning against a solid surface.

The Numen of Charity’s body, at first glance, appears almost mortal. The air around him is far from regal, his demeanor is mortal and his form expresses its flaws. Wrinkles in his skin, freckles on his arms and the back of his neck, a tooth chipped long, long ago, prominently displayed in every smile. His laughter is loud and sharp, displeasing to most ears, with his voice carrying a soft, insistent sound that urges others to bare listen to what he has to say.

Soroush, Numen of Charity, appears every bit a man.. So long as he chooses to appear as such.

The Numen has a second body he can inhabit, for times that require now the pity of his Makers but the righteous fury of his Father’s love. This form exists in polar opposite to that of his regular body, where his regular state appears sluggish, thin as a tree’s newest branch and as leafy as one, Soroush’s second body, reflecting his divine origins.

Atop his head rests a halo of iron, two horns resting underneath it, balancing the halo atop his head. Powerful, navy blue wings of a vaulture spread out behind him, capable of lifting Soroush into the air. His arms grow by three fold, each ready to carry another weapon into conflict. Legs that once looked thin are morphed, replaced with powerful talons and feathered feet, capable of clutching onto difficult surfaces or pinning enemies to the floor.

This alteration extends to his posture and voice as well—where Soroush stood, indifferent and amused by those around him, this Numen of Charity stands at the ready, his body coiled tight like a spring. His voice cannot be heard on the wind, as it instead is carried telepathically to whomever Soroush looks at, lacking any distinction to separate it from a person’s own thoughts, save the pressure applied to those to whom this Numen chooses to speak with.

‘God’s Monster’ or ‘Holy Devil’ is how Soroush wryly refers to this version of himself, as it carries his own personal sins all over its body. There is little he can do to hide his own past loyalties to Zarim whilst making use of this form, carrying with it an eerie holiness, a revered vacancy in his shape. His demeanor is colder with a single minded doggedness to accomplish whatever task forced him into it. He sees no shades of gray, knows no understanding between a minor sin and he who belongs in Avernus, all those who oppose the Overseer are his enemies in this set of skin.
Personality
Once, Soroush was a more self centered entity. He looked for justifications, excusing this behavior, but adored nothing more than the idle fantasy of godhood. This also led Soroush to being a very passionate friend and companion, holding those close to him in high respect, though this came with a degree of possessiveness as well. After his stint with Zarim and his eventual redemption, this aspect of Soroush has been diminished. It exists though in a dark, forgotten part of Soroush.

As the Numen of Charity, Soroush is a selfless being on the surface. He hopes only to spread the Charity of his God to others, giving them peace, mercy and love. These three tenets, defining his Charities, has led Soroush to intervene where not requested. He is a known busybody and sticks his nose into everyone’s business, for surely his help would be wanted?

Soroush adopts a paternal or brotherly demeanor most of the time. He is a soft spoken man, rare to raise his voice and rarer to condemn another for their failures or tempers. A friendly man all together, Soroush does not often stand on ceremony and speaks plainly, holding the belief that any mortal is just as important as any Numen or Angel. Soroush has private bouts of somberness, preferring to be by himself when these moods strike. He’ll reflect on his humiliation, defying the Overseer and having crawled back to Heaven.

Anger is not a stranger to Soroush, maybe not as frequent a friend in him as it is in others, but Soroush has been seen in the throes of rage. Contrasting his quiet attitude, Soroush is explosive in his anger, quick to judge others and raise his voice the loudest he can, drowning out dissenting arguments. He will not physically lash out and always catches himself before any scathing remarks fly from his tongues, though he is not known for graciously apologizing for these outbursts. He will make it right, in his own way, and pretend that it didn’t happen.

A chief emotion that controls Soroush, however he may shy from admitting it, is fear. Soroush is a former angel who rebelled against the Overseer only to repent when fear of his father was ignited deep in his core. Soroush loves the Overseer equally as he fears them, for Soroush they are one in the same sensation. The Overseer has no need for any of them and can dispose of them with contemptuous ease, evidenced by Zarim’s heroic suicide. To Soroush, he sees their continued existence as proof of their creator’s love and fears for the day when that love has faded from Father’s heart.
+
Likes

  • Sunny Days without any overcast
  • Birds, specifically doves.
  • Alcohol, specifically strong spirits
  • The Angelic Choir's performances
  • Tobacco
-
Dislikes

  • Rainy days and overcast skies
  • Selfishness
  • Needless Friction
  • Being excluded by his peers
  • Misotheistism
VI
Click to Expand Backstory
Born in the Hadean, Soroush was brought into creation as a Guardian Angel tasked with looking after a specific type of mortal. Those who were responsible for others, families or communities, but shirked their duties or attempted to flee them. Soroush’s task was to keep these mortals around, to help them see the error of their ways. In this way, he saw himself as not only this specific mortal’s guardian angel, but the guardian angel to these entire communities.

Over time, Soroush saw the mortals in his care as more than the fleeting souls they were, destined to Heaven’s door should he be successful. A possessiveness took hold after generations of vigilant watch. These humans, they may be the product of the Father but they belonged to Soroush. It was he who kept them safe from the many perils of the mortal world, it was he who shoved them along the path that the Father intended. Their names were meaningless on the lips of the Overseer, they were tangible faces for Soroush. This developed into a need, a deep hunger to be presented as a god to his mortals. His words were law, his actions were in their benefit, why should he not stand over them and receive prayer? The Overseer—he had enough prayer. These few mortal souls could be Soroush’s, he surmised.

His longing for mortal adulation only grew, not at great rates but a moderate but flowing rise. By Zarim’s outburst and his flight from the Overseer’s side, Soroush already differed from the Overseer’s plans. Zarim’s rhetoric spurred Soroush forward, he wasn’t wrong, to the young Guardian Angel. Father invented misery and pain then ordered Soroush to fix the mortals stuck in these grips of anguish. Why couldn’t the Overseer do away with suffering? Why did Soroush’s mortals need to endure that pointless agony?

It simply didn’t make sense.

So when Zarim returned, his cry rang out to all doubters, his side swarmed with followers. Among them was Soroush, his mind made up. Urging companions to join him, Soroush pledged himself to Zarim and his cause and took up his spear. If he was forced to, Soroush stealed himself for the task of bleeding the Overseer, should Father not surrender.

Such hubris was short-lived. The battle was fierce. The struggle was too great for Soroush. His resolve chipped away, each time his spear struck an equal blow with an enemy, it crumbled moreso. Those he called friends charged forward with murder in their eyes, those he called comrades collapsed around him, arrows spilling their blood for the first time in existence. Exhaustion coiled through his veins and Soroush crashed to his knees, their war reaching its apex. This war between brothers, fighting for a father’s love, maddened Soroush. The brilliant sunrise Zarim promised did not appear on the horizon, Soroush bore witness to a void in which no light glared back at him.

And then, a great silence numbed the battlefield and a voice spoke to Soroush. The Guardian Angel recoiled, knowing this presence, knowing it as any child would to a parent’s call. To be singled out, to be looked upon and spoken to… Soroush collapsed to his knees.

It was warm. The voice was warm. It offered forgiveness, it offered the chance to repent, to join the choir of heaven and find purpose renewed. The unmistakable open hand of a father reaching out to their child.

Soroush grasped his position, he knew where he stood. If reached out, Soroush would be saved, he would be welcomed home. All it took was to abandon those who fought by his side, to abandon Zarim’s ideals—his own desire for godhood, left at the wayside to slink back to the Overseer.

And in the gasps between breaths, the silence between words, Soroush heard his father’s true statement.

Continue to fight against me and I shall offer no salvation.

That bleak horizon stared back at Soroush, a nothingness awaiting his attendance. Soroush bowed his head and wept, throwing down his spear and begging to be forgiven.

It would not be long until others, Archangels, found him and the few others who chose to bow rather than die in dignity.

Redeemed, Soroush was unable to handle his shame. When not busing himself with his renewed task as a Guardian Angel, Soroush would pray in solitude. Such was his guilt, Soroush was incapable of looking another in the eye, that had stayed loyal to the Overseer. Friendless and without respite, Soroush isolated himself as a purposeful sacrifice, to show he truly did change, he no longer was that selfish creature but another angel who lived for God’s love, who lived to share the mercy and peace of his lord across the mortal plane.

His sins threatened to strangle him in his sleep, it left him clawing for air and fighting off invisible assailants when he awoke. Nightmares of being tossed beyond the eyes of his people, where not even the Overseer would find him, consumed his waking thoughts. Soroush became terrified of mistakes and disciplined himself to be precise in duties. He wouldn’t give his Father any reason to lash out against Soroush.

This escalated dangerously, as all things do with Soroush. He was approached by another Guardian Angel, one who had not fallen and remained vigilant in his faith. Long had he watched Soroush agonize over his past mistakes and finally rose to put an end to them, suggesting that should Soroush truly feel he is redeemed, he would not object to his faith being tested. Soroush tepidly retorted that his comrade was correct, his old follies would not seduce him. Not anymore.

And so began the Trials of Soroush.

He descended into Avernus, into the slice that was deemed most appropriate for a self centered angel such as himself. Eldora’s realm of Greed.

Soroush’s reception into this realm was as he imagined. Eldora, a new name for a face he knew for countless years, despised the expression on his face and at the realization of why he was here, seemed to hate him a little more. Soroush expressed that he was to prove he was pure, never to be lured away from the Overseer’s path. Eldora was determined to prove him wrong.

He was chained to five sinners and forced to compete against them in a perverse tug-of-war game, an opulent prize between them. Soroush fought against these demons bitterly, pulling against their chains, determined to win against these creatures who turned against the Overseer. Eldora offered the sinners a chance at ascension, rising to the stature of demons should they win this game, in contrast Soroush knew he could never return to heaven should he fail.

There was no ceremony in this pit of avarice, those desperate sinners tugged and Soroush rose to the challenge, fighting back. He may have been a Guardian Angel, powerful in ways mortals never could be, but against the five sinners, Soroush found himself locked in a stalemate. It was relentless and without end, Soroush knew not when this task would end, days turned to months and months to years. Eldora’s company was never far away, showering him in golden trinkets, both to spur his greed and to cause him misery as they crashed against his body with sharp edges, his crimson blood showering the gold around him.

He would spend nearly two decades in Avernus before a realization hit him. It was a moment like most others, Soroush made little headway and his five adversaries yanked hard, avarice intents filling their heads. He could see it in their eyes, a similar expression to what Soroush wore on countless trips to the mortal plane, where he thought himself a god. Pale eyes narrowed as he studied them and came to an uncomfortable, dangerous hypothesis. His hands loosened on the chains, giving the sinners a little give. He did not relinquish it but something inside Soroush possessed him, telling him to let go. His nerves were on fire as he anxiously debated his plan.

It was a hard task. Soroush did not let go easily. His grip would loosen ever so slightly once every day. Two months of this and Soroush nearly gifted the five sinners their prize, their ascension into demonhood, yet confidence brewed within Soroush. Realization scattered his doubts.

He wasn’t here to fight with mortal souls for petty prizes. He was here to prove his love to God, a love that went beyond material wealth.

Soroush was ready to let go when Eldora’s voice cut through the air, his attention shifted to her. His old friend, clinging to her domain in Avernus, shot Soroush a final ultimatum. He could stay here, in Hell. They’d be friends again, with Soroush enjoying every luxury Hell has. Eldora demanded his faith be placed in her, not the Overseer.

And the chain slipped from between his fingers. Soroush, wearing a sorry and triumphant expression, could not abide her request. His trials in Hell were over, twenty-three years wallowing in Avernus to prove his faith had finally bore fruit. Soroush would leave Avernus and find himself ascended, given a core by the Overseer himself.

No longer the Guardian Angel who fled back to the Father’s side, now he was the Numen of Charity. He who understood the fruit of the Overseer’s compassion the most, who would spread his love throughout the cosmos. Soroush felt greater as a Numen… Beyond any powers he now had, beyond the shrinking shame of a Guardian Angel. Soroush was Numen. A being that stood closer to God than nearly all others.

Soroush decided, as the Numen of Charity, he would see to it that all of Avernus be brought before the Overseer and spared, as he was. The light they shunned filled Soroush with a warm embrace that could not be put to words, carrying with him his Father’s love.
Pangea Grove
“It is a realm of splendor, where the harmony of nature meets the innovation of man."
Every leaf has its place, every stone a patch of dirt to guard. There is no waste or accidental creation within the confines of Pangea Grove—the world innate to the Numen of Charity. Soroush's inner dominion is one of a gentle yet forgotten woodland, home to a humming creak, large, twisting trees on the verge of losing their leaves and Soroush's central home. His chateau, Pangea, is a gothic styled mansion with high walls, unyielding towers and a draw bridge. Pangea features a plethora of suites, able to host over a thousand guests in its halls. It holds no strategic or defensive measures inside the fortress, as everything has been aligned for Soroush's aesthetic pleasure.
Sunhold Sanctum
“And a new day will dawn for those who stand long.”
Tasked with the defense of Sunhold, Soroush stands vigilant on a nearby floating island gifted to him by the Overseer. From his perch above Sunhold, Soroush keeps his protective gaze on the warriors training below.
Ability
Baptism — An innate power to Soroush, he is able to lay his hands on another and soothe them. A golden glow will encompass both, subtle yet fierce when looked upon directly. Within a few second’s time, Soroush trades their sorrows for his own happiness, relieving the individual. This can extend to injuries as well, though these will bloom on Soroush’s body.

Communion — Once he ascended to the rank of Numen, his virtue being that of charity, Soroush realized he had an affinity for nature, specifically plant life. Soroush is able to command plants or crops, making them more resilient to disease. With a prayer, Soroush can mutate the flora, allowing it to grow rapidly in size and function. Whether this is to support those who are struggling, by urging a field to sprout wheat which could graze the heavens or turning a forest feral to defend itself, both are within the Numen’s powers.

Anointing of the Sick — A rarely used power that Soroush only gained after becoming the Numen of Charity, this transforms his body into what he has snidely referred to as ‘God’s Monster’ or a ‘Holy Devil’. It twists his body into that of a man and a vulture’s, with powerful aquiline legs and deep blue wings adorning his back. Likewise, Soroush gains additional arms and the ability to fly in this form. This Holy Devil form reflects his own betrayal against the Overseer, unambiguously showing the ugliness that once dwelled within Soroush’s being, a constant reminder of who this Numen was and what he did. It carries with it a rigid change in demeanor from Soroush, who only ever resorts to this form when defending the Overseer. While in this state, Soroush gains the ability to project his thoughts into another’s heads, choosing to communicate via this method as opposed to using his mouth.
Oath of Severance

  • Shortly after his penance, Soroush stood before the Archangels of the Heavenly Host and made a public declaration. He would never again hold a weapon against the Overseer, or his creations, ever again. He will only unsheathe his sword at the behest of the Overseer or in the interests of the Overseer, or in the defense of the Virtue he was given charge over.
Equipment

  • His spear from when Soroush was a Guardian Angel, forged in the Heavens
  • His saber, a more elegant weapon crafted for him upon his return to Heaven as a Numen
  • An old diary that never runs out of pages.
  • A handkerchief that can clean away any mess while remaining unstained.
  • A small sapphire rock, capable of teleporting another into his personal domain.
Relationships
In the past, Soroush was close friends with Eldora, the current Matriarch of Greed. Both were guardian angels who held more possessive qualities in their tasks than their peers with Soroush eventually supporting Eldora’s decision to betray the Overseer. After the war, Soroush did not have much opportunity to speak with Eldora and was disheartened to hear that she chose to remain an enemy of the Father, to remain in Avernus. During his trials in her realm of Greed, Soroush found himself greatly tempted to remain in Hell alongside Eldora, pulled out of this innately selfish desire by his fear of the Overseer.

Though they appear as enemies, belonging to polar opposite sides, Soroush still attempts communication, hoping that his old friend may yet see the light of their father and repent, as he did in the past.

Code by Nano
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COLOUR
LESS
  • BASIC INFORMATION
    NAME
    Uwila
    ERA
    Celvion, Birth of the Realms
    PRONOUNS
    They/Them
    ROLE
    Seraphim

    HEIGHT
    5'9
    WEIGHT
    71 Kg

    REALM
    Labyrinth
    APPEARANCE

    In mortal terms, Uwila would be considered to be Ordin's twin sibing. The moment they had been created, they were immediately thrown into the Purgatory. There they lived by themselves, alone. There was no need to assert they're position as a Seraphim, and there was no need to exude it during his visits to earth. Uwila exuded little presence, despite their position, unlike Ordin. Regardless, they were a warrior, a scholar, a judge, and a master of the realm in between.

    Their fashion was influenced by the way humans imagined what a Grim Reaper had looked like. Their black wings were seen as a black cloak, and their cresent blade was mistaken as a scythe. There formed the Angel of Death, unlike all the other depiction of angels. They found this amusing and made it as a part of their identity. They decided to hid their face from mortals, a mask that best resembled their true form. Despite this, Uwila held both feminine and masculine features. Their eyes held a cold piercing gaze, the color silver as the moon's light. A contrast to Uwila's warm, and sometimes mischievous smile. Their hair are long, the color of the stars shining in the blanket of the night. It flows through their black robes like the milky way, only hidden by their hood and cape.

    In their Divine Awakening, Uwila takes the form of a humanoid creature with six wings and talons for fingers, in truth it does not stray too far away from their human form but still a form that struck fear when used. The feathers around their body are both white and black, and sharp. In this form, Uwila looked more like a monster from the mortal's myths and legends than the kind and winged humans they imagined Celestials to be.
    Coded by: Ambiloquous Ambiloquous
    Masked
    Artist:とりまる
 
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8LXN155.jpeg

ELYX FRIDAY​



NAME: ELYX FRIDAY
ERA: Moonsung
HEIGHT: 6'1 FT
WEIGHT: 85 Kilograms
REALM: Purgatory

3ca041ebd2e2118555dede500bc4a738.jpg

PERSONALITY: Despite his predicament and past, Elyx usually loves to goof around and feign ignorance about many things. For those who don’t know his past, it is easy to believe he is a coward, spineless, and even lazy since that is how he presents himself. In actuality he takes his job rather seriously and has moments where he allows the darkness to show. He prefers not to get involved in the politics involving heaven or helll; after all, he isn’t in a real position to judge anyone. Everyone has their own path and the ultimate binary of the expansive realms seems ill fit to fit the final destinations for humanity though if you had to choose the choice seems pretty obvious.


Some of his quirks is his habit of speaking with his imaginary friend, Sol, that he had created some time during his service. He will also allow silly games of chance to decide even major actions of his life whether it be cards, coin flips, rock paper scissors.


HISTORY:
Elyx Friday was born into a major crime syndicate. It was pretty much set and stone that he would take up the legacy of his parents. Family dinners, vacations, with the occasional murder, or hostage were common place. He became rather adept at erasing blood stains off table cloths and fabric. Eventually, as his parents aged he took up their mantle and became one of the more prominent members due to his efficiency and ruthlessness. It was unnerving how desensitized one could become to death and malevolence. You could say that he was privy to the darkness that was mankind; however, it was because of this that benevolence stood out like a comet in the night sky. An emotion he thought he had long forgotten since his parents had passed away crept over him…love.

He was instructed to execute a woman, Marisol, due to her offending a high ranking member of the syndicate who wanted to make a pass at her. When he arrived she knew why he was there, yet despite his purpose she fed him, and treated him like a human. No this wasn’t a sudden change in personality on Elyx’s part…the truth was he never loved this life. He resented that he was born in such a crappy situation. He hated the way blood would splatter onto his body and surfaces. He hated the screams and moans of agony, which is why he did his best to finish missions quickly and make deaths as quick as possible. He hated that out of all the things the world had to offer, he had to see the most vile. Within Pandora's Box, this woman was the hope he always wanted…he let her live.

The two would run away together. It began initially as him helping her get on her feet in a new place since he could navigate within the darkness. He always planned to part ways once that was completed, but the mission never seemed complete. The two would get married unofficially and have a daughter named Eliza. For 5 years they would live happily, a dream that he had always kept in his heart until the syndicate found them….

Elyx and his family tried to escape in the night, but death surrounded them. Eventually they were cornered and the only thing he could do was beg for his life. Humored by Elyx’s current predicament, the leader of the raid allowed Elyx to play for his family’s lives. A simple coin toss. First was the wife, heads was called; however, the coin landed on tails. Restrained by the foot soldiers Elyx had to watch Maria’s demise helplessly. The next was his daughter. Through tears he called heads again; tails. Without hesitation the syndicate made sure she would meet the same fate. They laughed while Elyx screamed to the point he could no longer hear himself. Instead of playing the final game, Elyx would break free and charge at the one responsible for their deaths. He would succeed in killing him, but would quickly succumb to their numbers. He would never know the coin was double sided.

It was a shock to discover that there was actually life after death, but even in this shock he had a decision to make as Ulyx appeared to him to offer him the position as a reaper. Apparently Elyx intrigued him. He would take Ulyx up on his offer; however, he would make an addendum to the contract. Elyx would serve the years for his wife and daughter with added interest to ensure their immediate ticket to the Divine Realm. Coupled with his own service this would place his years of service at 999.

Being a reaper was not too different from his actual occupation in his past life. You could say he was somewhat suited for the role. As years pass he learns more about this new world and in some ways sees it as more corrupt than the one he left behind if you could believe that. In fact there are times where he isn’t even sure he would want to be granted passage to the Divine Realm. Though he longs to see Maria and Eliza he isn’t sure if he will be the same person once his contract is over, or if they will even want to see him. Surely there is another place where humans can belong.

RELATIONSHIP:
TBD

TOOLS & ABILITIES: N/A
Will put the reaper tools once I understand everything but you get the gist




 
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