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All The Mystery Island
- Thread starter SynfulDesire
- Start date
- Watchers 10
Currently reading:
All The Mystery Island
dispatch99
📬 Dispatches from the North ❄️
- Local time
- Today 7:12 AM
- Messages
- 638
- Pronouns
- he/him
Our characters are either gonna be worst enemies or best friends. Maybe best frenemies lolCreated a character! Let me know if I need to adjust the skills and talents
jxs_lxn
Baron
- Local time
- Today 7:12 AM
- Messages
- 136
- Age
- 26
- Pronouns
- She/Her
Name: Devonya "Devon" Grensauld
Age: Twenty-Four
Race: Human-Nymph/ Necromancer/Sorceress
Profession/Class: Parlormaid, Maidservant, Avid Worshiper
Appearance:
Height: 5'8" / 172.5 CM
Body Type: Curvaceous
Attire:
Devon awoke wearing her white nightgown, however, it was scorched, littered with burned holes and seared cloth, and her ancestral amulet adorned around her neck in pristine condition despite her smoldered negligee.
Background: Conceived and birthed underneath the mystic waters around her family, of blood and not, all bred and indigenous to the outskirts of an ancient woodland, Devon was immediately branded as a troubled spirit among her tribe, crying to no ends as soon as she touched her mother's skin. Crying continuously even after making contact with the mother, symbolized weakness and bad luck in the tribe's culture; it proposed her to be an outlier and a hindrance to them. Devon's mother was one of the most powerful sorceresses of the land, her people expected her to have a prosperous babe, perhaps a prophet even due to her status, but hope was lost after the revelation of Devon's birth. Ancestrial scriptures and poems told the clan of a prophet, traditionally born in their mystical lake to bond their given power as every fetus was, but a deity to be reborn, found shrouded among the growing Earth and wrapped in beautiful emerald vines and sticky with freshly sprouted twigs. She was to be one with nature and her natural-born abilities as a necromancer, a nymph of the strongest mystical vigors the clan will ever come to know. It was said this prophet would be most fruitful if carried among the most fortitude of necromancers, and yet the clan went on another full moon without their prophet, their impending doom looming and preying closer and closer, the ancestors could feel their Earth grow colder with each passing day, they just didn't know what day it would be... .
As Devon grew, she was proven to be a "late-bloomer", lacking the rudimentary powers children her age already mastered and possessed. She was pushed, trialed, and secluded from her people, the outlook of an outlier weighing in heavier and heavier on her shoulders. She lacked companionship from her clan, and proper nurturing from her mother and father, leaving her to fend for herself, and building a shell, despite the importance of surrounding your spirit with and to your people. Eventually, she grew to inhabit her powers and was able to quickly catch up with her peers, though it lacked any emotional stir with her tribespeople, much less her parents. On the night of her ceremony of this "celebratory" moment of life, is when that "doom" finally came. Amid a raging thunderstorm, a mysterious cult from distant waters attacked the woodland with a disturbed and perverse rage, heinously slaughtering and mutilating the men and women, lighting ablaze to their wetus and cottages, their sigils of peace and worship, their religious heirlooms and ancestral regalia stolen and stashed. Though the fight was fierce and at first, promising to survive, the cultist knew of their mystical foes from hair fiber to skin follicle, and overthrew them using their greatest weaknesses against them. Devon's parents were some of the last to be slaughtered, and some of the younger women and children were sparred for sport, and others, like Devon, were captured.
Brainwashed to their masters' ways, the tribe of the woodland was forced to forget what they knew and were born for, and forced to be submissives to the cult that turned them into a dying breed. Some lost the way, their abilities weakened by the emotional and physical abuse of the cultists, but Devon remained strong and promising, her abilities never faltered and instead, they only grew stronger. As soon as others took notice of this, she was trained in secret to harness and preserve her power, suddenly, the hindrance of the clan became their only lasting hope for salvation. By the time she had turned 16, her mystic strength excelled extraordinarily past her age, she had the power of a middle-aged necromancer. The confidence in her destiny pushed Devon forward, she was not only well fortified in her powers but in mental endurance. Because of her snap and vigor, she was to be a serving woman, attending to the needs of her "superiors" and oppressors, fetching food and water, ales and spirits, running baths which carried over to assisting with bathing her headmen, cleaning, etcetera. She was essentially a maid and errand girl to the most vile of men. It never broke her spirit, and then on the night of the full moon of her 24th born day, a raging storm rolled over the cultists' village, similar to the night of her tribe's attack, thunder raged and littered the Earth, and the energy charged Devon to foreign heights, and her power rioted, thunder had danced all around her, striking her oppressors and then, striking her, she only saw the blinding light and then... nothing. One moment she was in the storm and the next, shrouded among the growing Earth and wrapped in beautiful emerald vines and sticky with freshly sprouted twigs....
Skills:
Necromancer & Sorceress - Extreme capacities of communing with the dead, exceptionally with her ancestors and their astral gifts, absorb the life force of her enemy, channel her own life for more power, heal and channel life force to her allies, have out of body experiences where she can inhabit the spirit of living things (animals, plant life, etc.) and manipulate them, conjure the elements (fire, water, electricity, earth) and use them to her offense and defense, and summon deities.
Talents:
Fortitude - Despite being surrounded by degrading, perverse, and violent men and women, she maintained a mental strength that many could not, which allowed her to withstand the most abusive natures imaginable.
Expertise in Wilderness and Wildlife - being that she was born and mostly raised in the woodland, she was taught to be able to know how to survive in the wilderness, learn it, and adapt it as quickly as she could memorize the lines of her hands, and attune herself to wildlife, something naturally effortless with her abnormal capabilities with the Earth.
Organized & Attentive - Being trained to be a servant to her oppressors called for her to be exceptionally well organized and take careful consideration in everything she was demanded of. If she wanted to be spared of a slap or a lash, she was to be in order and damn near perfect.
Flaws:
Clumsy - Not physically, but more so mentally, she often makes mistakes, small ones that only require a little more thought or insight, inabilities to contain certain emotions at times, all of which fuels her frustration within herself and her self-doubt and lack of confidence.
Overburdened - Mostly towards herself. Being sheltered and secluded from her clan for a large portion of her life and constantly being under duress to do better, loading herself with too much to carry, pressuring herself to go the extra mile, always needing and wanting to prove herself to others.
Insecure - Ties in with her upbringing, never being equivalent to her peers, lacking and being looked down upon by her family, while she can push herself, she is never satisfied and feel inadequate despite her path.
Equipment/Gear: Her scorched nightgown, an ancestral amulet, and her father's dagger
Age: Twenty-Four
Race: Human-Nymph/ Necromancer/Sorceress
Profession/Class: Parlormaid, Maidservant, Avid Worshiper
Appearance:
Height: 5'8" / 172.5 CM
Body Type: Curvaceous
Attire:
Background: Conceived and birthed underneath the mystic waters around her family, of blood and not, all bred and indigenous to the outskirts of an ancient woodland, Devon was immediately branded as a troubled spirit among her tribe, crying to no ends as soon as she touched her mother's skin. Crying continuously even after making contact with the mother, symbolized weakness and bad luck in the tribe's culture; it proposed her to be an outlier and a hindrance to them. Devon's mother was one of the most powerful sorceresses of the land, her people expected her to have a prosperous babe, perhaps a prophet even due to her status, but hope was lost after the revelation of Devon's birth. Ancestrial scriptures and poems told the clan of a prophet, traditionally born in their mystical lake to bond their given power as every fetus was, but a deity to be reborn, found shrouded among the growing Earth and wrapped in beautiful emerald vines and sticky with freshly sprouted twigs. She was to be one with nature and her natural-born abilities as a necromancer, a nymph of the strongest mystical vigors the clan will ever come to know. It was said this prophet would be most fruitful if carried among the most fortitude of necromancers, and yet the clan went on another full moon without their prophet, their impending doom looming and preying closer and closer, the ancestors could feel their Earth grow colder with each passing day, they just didn't know what day it would be... .
As Devon grew, she was proven to be a "late-bloomer", lacking the rudimentary powers children her age already mastered and possessed. She was pushed, trialed, and secluded from her people, the outlook of an outlier weighing in heavier and heavier on her shoulders. She lacked companionship from her clan, and proper nurturing from her mother and father, leaving her to fend for herself, and building a shell, despite the importance of surrounding your spirit with and to your people. Eventually, she grew to inhabit her powers and was able to quickly catch up with her peers, though it lacked any emotional stir with her tribespeople, much less her parents. On the night of her ceremony of this "celebratory" moment of life, is when that "doom" finally came. Amid a raging thunderstorm, a mysterious cult from distant waters attacked the woodland with a disturbed and perverse rage, heinously slaughtering and mutilating the men and women, lighting ablaze to their wetus and cottages, their sigils of peace and worship, their religious heirlooms and ancestral regalia stolen and stashed. Though the fight was fierce and at first, promising to survive, the cultist knew of their mystical foes from hair fiber to skin follicle, and overthrew them using their greatest weaknesses against them. Devon's parents were some of the last to be slaughtered, and some of the younger women and children were sparred for sport, and others, like Devon, were captured.
Brainwashed to their masters' ways, the tribe of the woodland was forced to forget what they knew and were born for, and forced to be submissives to the cult that turned them into a dying breed. Some lost the way, their abilities weakened by the emotional and physical abuse of the cultists, but Devon remained strong and promising, her abilities never faltered and instead, they only grew stronger. As soon as others took notice of this, she was trained in secret to harness and preserve her power, suddenly, the hindrance of the clan became their only lasting hope for salvation. By the time she had turned 16, her mystic strength excelled extraordinarily past her age, she had the power of a middle-aged necromancer. The confidence in her destiny pushed Devon forward, she was not only well fortified in her powers but in mental endurance. Because of her snap and vigor, she was to be a serving woman, attending to the needs of her "superiors" and oppressors, fetching food and water, ales and spirits, running baths which carried over to assisting with bathing her headmen, cleaning, etcetera. She was essentially a maid and errand girl to the most vile of men. It never broke her spirit, and then on the night of the full moon of her 24th born day, a raging storm rolled over the cultists' village, similar to the night of her tribe's attack, thunder raged and littered the Earth, and the energy charged Devon to foreign heights, and her power rioted, thunder had danced all around her, striking her oppressors and then, striking her, she only saw the blinding light and then... nothing. One moment she was in the storm and the next, shrouded among the growing Earth and wrapped in beautiful emerald vines and sticky with freshly sprouted twigs....
Skills:
Necromancer & Sorceress - Extreme capacities of communing with the dead, exceptionally with her ancestors and their astral gifts, absorb the life force of her enemy, channel her own life for more power, heal and channel life force to her allies, have out of body experiences where she can inhabit the spirit of living things (animals, plant life, etc.) and manipulate them, conjure the elements (fire, water, electricity, earth) and use them to her offense and defense, and summon deities.
Talents:
Fortitude - Despite being surrounded by degrading, perverse, and violent men and women, she maintained a mental strength that many could not, which allowed her to withstand the most abusive natures imaginable.
Expertise in Wilderness and Wildlife - being that she was born and mostly raised in the woodland, she was taught to be able to know how to survive in the wilderness, learn it, and adapt it as quickly as she could memorize the lines of her hands, and attune herself to wildlife, something naturally effortless with her abnormal capabilities with the Earth.
Organized & Attentive - Being trained to be a servant to her oppressors called for her to be exceptionally well organized and take careful consideration in everything she was demanded of. If she wanted to be spared of a slap or a lash, she was to be in order and damn near perfect.
Flaws:
Clumsy - Not physically, but more so mentally, she often makes mistakes, small ones that only require a little more thought or insight, inabilities to contain certain emotions at times, all of which fuels her frustration within herself and her self-doubt and lack of confidence.
Overburdened - Mostly towards herself. Being sheltered and secluded from her clan for a large portion of her life and constantly being under duress to do better, loading herself with too much to carry, pressuring herself to go the extra mile, always needing and wanting to prove herself to others.
Insecure - Ties in with her upbringing, never being equivalent to her peers, lacking and being looked down upon by her family, while she can push herself, she is never satisfied and feel inadequate despite her path.
Equipment/Gear: Her scorched nightgown, an ancestral amulet, and her father's dagger
No it's alright.
I'll create the introduction soon and simply give the option to join in, everyone will be linked and noticed when it starts and you guys can answer freely the first round of posts.
dispatch99
📬 Dispatches from the North ❄️
- Local time
- Today 7:12 AM
- Messages
- 638
- Pronouns
- he/him
Awesome! Super excited!
Alrighty, introduction is up and I hope I linked everyone. There is still room for more people to join. I hope I got everyone.
If I missed anyone, let me know.
In with that, happy writing
We are at the first stage of the RP, I've given each of you a little prompt to start with. For now we see what order we start off with, post whenever you feel ready, first or last doesn't matter, we change the order after rounds ended if necessary.
I'm excited to read some sweet introductions
And here is the Link: THE LINK!
If I missed anyone, let me know.
In with that, happy writing
We are at the first stage of the RP, I've given each of you a little prompt to start with. For now we see what order we start off with, post whenever you feel ready, first or last doesn't matter, we change the order after rounds ended if necessary. I'm excited to read some sweet introductions
And here is the Link: THE LINK!
jxs_lxn
Baron
- Local time
- Today 7:12 AM
- Messages
- 136
- Age
- 26
- Pronouns
- She/Her
Happy Valentine's Day to you as well! <3 If not with someone you love, with the things you love doing. Time for some TLC !
Radio Man
Knight
- Local time
- Today 7:12 AM
- Messages
- 85
- Age
- 25
- Pronouns
- He/Him
@Captain Cardboard and @TheDovah, your turn before first round end. Are you two still active in the RP? Sorry need to ask.
Captain Cardboard
Cardboard Ninja
- Local time
- Today 7:12 AM
- Messages
- 206
- Age
- 25
Yep! Sorry it took me so long to get out a post.
No worries, first rounds always take a while from my experience.
we could go for another round or 2 rounds from now on with 'getting to know each other' posts before the first GM event. I enjoyed the entries all of you provided a lot
It all depends on how much interactions happens between each other, we can go for some 'Sidequests' for each of you, if you have a idea
The time is daytime currently, after two rounds, I will set up the first night-event.
didn't you played a role already from the first take? If you play a different character than before just let me know