NAME. UTP
AGE & BIRTH DATE. 500+
SPECIES. Silver Elvhen
FACTION. Raiders of the Veiled Sea
OCCUPATION. Pirate Captain ( Neptune's Fleet )
The apple of your parent’s eyes, you could do no wrong. And, well, they were right. You were always a bit of a troublemaker, but that was to be expected. You also were a bit of a rampant spirit, wearing your heart on your sleeve and making irrational decisions at times. Like the one that kept you in Taravell. Love, or whatever debilitating word it was, you held onto it. It took you to Caribella, where you decided it would be your home away from home while you were outside of Avalon. You clawed your way to the top, the way you knew you always would have to, until you were finally the captain of your own Armada. It was your pride and joy, your hands stained with the blood of all those you had to step on to make it happen. But you didn’t care. What happened in Caribella, stayed in Caribella.
You’d leave your ship in the care of your First Mate before you’d slip back to Avalon, bask in the Light of the Laurelin, then come back and claim your ship. Most gave it back to you, but there were times when they took advantage of your absence. This last time, you came back to a murdered crew, a new leader who had sabotaged everything in your absence standing at the head of your ship. So you did what you had to. Your brutality knew no bounds; you had friends in high places, no one stood a chance. That was the last time you let it happen. And as your twenty years slipped by, as the Light left you, you just hoped that you made the right choice. No one would take anything from you again for as long as you were alive
CONNECTS
THE STARS: The son of the human who took over the ship in their absence. They did not kill The Stars because they were only a child.
NOTES
ABILITY: Force Fields: The ability to create temporary force fields around themselves or objects.
NAME. UTP ( Narcissus )
AGE & BIRTH DATE. 3,000+ & Unknown
GENDER & PRONOUNS. Male & He/Him
SPECIES. Rift
OCCUPATION. UTP.
FACE CLAIM. Douglas Booth
BIOGRAPHY
You hadn’t seen this much love in one world since you discovered yourself. Your mother visited a seer when you were born, but it was you who gave a warning to the seer instead. It was said that you would have a long life if you never discovered yourself. Little did they know you would win a staring contest with your own reflection. You were a hunter, but each time you killed an animal, they had to resist the urge to thank you. Roses stopped to smell you. You can kill two stones with one bird. Your garden maze was responsible for more missing persons than the Bermuda Triangle. You once made a weeping willow laugh. You were loved by complete strangers who expected you to just love them in return. Echo, the mountain nymph, and Ameinias, the hunter, spurned because they did not know you. Nemesis, the goddess, lured you to a pool of water. The only reason you were thirsty was because you were curious as to how it felt. Just like your only regret is not knowing what regret feels like.
Destined to love yourself because of a petty god, you faded from existence only to find yourself within Elysium. It was the only place you thought good enough for your presence. You lived alone on a hill, surrounded by the flowers that were named after you, the memory of past lovers that would come and go. If opportunity were to knock and you were not home, opportunity would wait. You could steal thunder’s thunder, and Dionysus knew that. You and he had your fun together, but the god understood the desires of love, and gave you a chance at a life again. Pushed from the veil when it was patched back up, this is your moment to thrive. You live vicariously through yourself. You are the life of parties that you haven’t even attended. You are...the most narcissistic man in the world.
ABILITIES
Immortal.
Can regenerate a person’s life force.
Allure: he automatically charms those he is talking to, and he cannot be interrupted while he’s speaking.
Able to mimic a power of a creature he comes into contact with.
Has the ability to create a force-field around himself or others.
AGE RANGE: 31 // OCCUPATION: FREELANCE DRAFTSMAN // PRONOUNS: He/him
Fire. You are fire – unstable and unpredictable; dangerous and harmful to those who come close. Your rage is like fire; fire runs in your veins. Raised in wealth and knowing nothing but, it was fire that lit up when your parents passed and you lost all that wealth; forced to become one of the people you so cruelly shunned and evaded years before. You’re left with a home filled with useless things, alone and lonely. Be thankful your servants have stayed, despite your erratic behavior, for without them, you would’ve been driven mad years ago. Your flames burn brightly and it is near impossible to extinguished. But fire can be doused by water – free, utopian, and pure.
Belle – She is water. You are polar opposites, yet there is an intense spark between the two of you. You’ve harmed her father before – something you regret doing what with the recent events – and you only agreed to stop disturbing him if she concedes to visiting you every day. Why is that? You thrive in solitude, yet you want her around you. Perhaps, without you knowing, the beast has finally start to become a man again.
Cogsworth & Lumiere – You shun them like you do with everyone. How can you be so blind? These are the very people who’ve helped you, even when you had nothing. Your hands were empty except for a trace of contempt for the world, yet they stayed by your side, loyal to you beyond anyone’s imagination. It is high time they start earning your appreciation; for not many could learn to love a beast.
How you perplex the Creator. This man has never encountered a character so consumed by his rage and so heavily influenced by his bigotry. You interest him; you confuse him – hence, you earn his partiality. Oh, how he certainly hopes you don’t try to be Belle’s hero and discover what had happened to her father. He would hate to put one of his favorites in Isolation. Keep that fire burning, Beast. Keep the Creator interested.
Bob Morley
tw // suicide mention
Once upon a time, in a city not too far from Hermosa, not that different from any other - there was a husband and wife. The husband had vowed to do good things for the community, helping the less fortunate and assisting those who could not help themselves. As an architect, he wanted to use his position to build places that could becoming homes for those who didn’t have one. And for a while, he accomplished his goal. But just like in every story, the hero has a weakness that can prove to be his downfall - and for this so-called hero, the weakness was greed. As the money began to flow in, it was hard to ignore the potential to increase the wealth, and slowly, gradually - the goal at hand was no longer about helping others. It was about helping himself, and taking advantage of others to reach his goal. Gone was the hopes of working to create a better community, but rather he focused on taking homes that people couldn’t afford to pay for, and getting them evicted in order to build the lot up and charge obscene amounts of money for it. It was said that the practice that the man fell into increased homelessness in the city, and made the divide between the rich and the poor even worse. Did he care? Not in the slightest. His house was luxurious, filled with the most beautiful riches - and if those people could not fend for themselves, then why should it have been his job?
At this time, the wife had just given birth to the couple’s first child - a baby boy with a head full of dark curls and a smile that could rival the sun. Adam, they named him - a strong name to drive him towards a strong future. Even though he had just been given the greatest gift of all - the father did not stop when it came to his work. His career always came first, as he would tell his wife, because who else would be able to provide for the family? And so, Adam spent most of his childhood with his mother, reveling in her beautiful voice as she’d sing to him, or following after her as she’d walk through her rose gardens. They were her most prized possession, a passion that was handed down from her father to her, similar in the way his father had handed it down to him. The garden laid just a few feet from the entrance of the estate, a thick bramble of the reddest roses he’d ever seen. She’d carry him through the garden as a child, showing him the blooms as she warned him about the thorns. His mother cared for him, showering him in love and affection, and always speaking to him of the importance to love others, and to love himself. Perhaps that was why the young boy had been happy for most of his youth - a dark and twisted irony to what laid ahead in his future.
When Adam reached adolescence, his father decided that he needed to have an education that was worthy of their name - and so he went to the same prestigious boarding school that his father had attended. It was far away from home, and he didn’t want to leave the comfort and familiarity of the family - but it was one of the first times that his father had truly seemed to pay attention to him, - and so he sucked it up and did as he was told. He missed his mother terribly, missed being mischievous and annoying the servants in the kitchen, missed the fragrance of roses that would rush through the house anytime a window was opened in the slightest. He had a difficult time making friends in school, and often was on the receiving end of teasing from other classmates - so he focused on his studies and would count the days until he was going to be able to return home. Right before he turned thirteen, however, he was asked to return home unexpectedly. Home was somewhere that was always filled with positive memories - but not on this account, as he’d quickly learn that his mother was gravely ill. She’d been under the weather for a long time, blaming it on the seasons - but she never seemed to get better, just getting weaker and weaker. When he returned to the family estate, he never would think that it’d just be another day and his mother would be gone.
Buried right beside the rose garden on the estate, it seemed that without her positivity and light Adam’s life began to take a turn into darkness. His father was now the only person he could rely on, and from his youth, Adam had always seen him as a cold person - the exact opposite of who his mother was. But the more time his father would spend with him, the more Adam began to see the benefits of not being someone who was ruled by their heart. His father had reached his status through working hard and being unswayed by people looking for his help, looking for pity, looking for assistance. Adam worked closely with his father over the next few years, his father showing him the way that his architecture firm ran, and how it would one day be Adam’s responsibility to oversee it. It seemed that within an instant, his mother’s presence in the home and in his life was gone - her rose garden wilted without anyone to attend it, her belongings were packed up and put into storage - and in exchange of them, his father had become the dominant person in his life.
Once Adam had graduated from school and taken a role within the firm as his father’s partner, his outlook on the world had become completely jaded. Humanity gave him nothing - only taking from him and knocking him when he was down. There was no point in working to give back to the world when it refused to give back to him. And so, he became a shadow of his father - cold and cruel and uncaring about others that didn’t benefit him. When his father announced the biggest undertaking the firm had seen - an overhaul of a well-known yet rundown neighborhood - Adam was there at his side, head held high as they cut the metaphorical ribbon. The street was filled with abandoned buildings, and had quickly become a frequent place for the homeless and poor to stay within - and the firm planned to completely demolish everything, and create a luxury avenue of sky-high apartment buildings and shopping plazas. There was little backlash, as it was positioned as giving back to the community - but was truly so that Adam’s father could charge insane rental costs and pad his own wallet. The poor couldn’t do that for him, so there was no point in keeping those buildings.
However, on the first day of demolition, everything fell apart. The firm hadn’t adequately surveyed the properties, making sure that all of the squatters had been relocated. They simply went ahead with the wrecking of the buildings - only to find out a day later that there had been a few people inside of it at the time, and they’d all been killed when the building came down. The architecture firm was disgraced, published on every headline of every paper within the entire city, crucifying them and everything that they’d done. The spotlight was appropriately placed onto the leaders of the endeavor - Adam, and his father - and how they’d heartlessly done this. Adam, on one hand, was shaken - that was never the intention, and to think that he’d had a hand in it was upsetting. His father, though, took the easy way out of the damning spotlight - a rope tightly around the neck, not even leaving a note behind.
And so, the disgrace was Adam’s, and Adam’s alone to bear. He dissolved the entire firm as soon as he could, hoping that by doing so, it’d provide some relief to the incessant attention. Whatever assets were left to the company were given to the city and the families of those who were affected, hoping to avoid a lawsuit. The money was gone, the popularity was gone - everything was gone. But rather than trying to take a step in a new direction, Adam became bitter and angry. The world had taken everything from him - chewed him up and spit him out without any sort of regard. He closed himself off from the rest of the public, preferring solidarity over the possibility of being recognized and having to answer to what he’d done. He took a lowly job that would allow him to not have to deal with anyone, and quickly and effectively removed himself from the world as he knew it.
A hand mirror. Ornate with jewels and rose etchings along the handle and and trim, it was a belonging of his mother’s before she passed. She would use it every day as she got ready for the day - and even as a little boy, she’d bring him onto her lap and he’d be fascinated by how it was possible to see himself in this tiny piece of glass. As he grew older, he may not have had the same playfulness or carefree nature that he previously did, but the hand mirror remained a constant - whether it was within his mother’s life, or his own. She’d use it frequently, using it to apply her makeup or adjust her hair when she was well. When she was unwell, she’d use it to look at the darkening bags under her eyes, the gauntness of her cheeks, the paleness of her skin. When she passed away, Adam was still barely a teen, and though his father packed up most of his mother’s belongings for safekeeping, as he would say - Adam kept the mirror, stealing it from a crate and hiding it in one of his bureau drawers. It was a foolish thing to keep, as he had little use for it - but when he holds it and when he looks into it, it’s almost as if he can still feel her presence.
NAME. UTP
AGE & BIRTH DATE. 25+
SPECIES. Witch
FACTION. Hidden One
OCCUPATION. UTP
Carefree and hotheaded, your Lysaran mother didn’t make it far past the throes of childbirth before she was taken away to the mines. You were hidden, concealed, but magic left a mark and it wasn’t long before the witchers showed up to take her away. Stubborn as the metals your father tempered, your magic came and you felt no shame; fearlessness was your birthright, free as the ravens that circled Hrafntun, wild as the horses that you ran alongside. Unbreakable, even in the mines where you’d end up; this wouldn’t be your first proving ground, or even your last, but the next was in the hills wardened over by the Old Woman in the Mountain.
Dead witchers lay behind you, goblins, trolls, and orcs ahead of you. Among them you crept, your self-taught magic sharpening, your abilities growing, and when you laid your blood in your mentor’s phylactery, you felt content wash from the heart of Ymir’s Spine. This was how your world would change, how you’d shift the course of fate to save those like you before they ever needed saving. You didn’t ask questions, a name appeared, your blade followed, and when Aetheron washed magical flames across your homeland, you looked forward to the day when the names of magisters would appear on an unmarked, iron coin.
NAME. UTP
AGE & BIRTH DATE. 35+
SPECIES. Daemonfey (Mage)
FACTION. Vanguard of the Light
OCCUPATION. Inquisitor
Spirit of Wisdom, beacon of knowledge, summoned to guide mortals toward enlightenment. The Aetherian magi called upon you, not to listen, not to learn, but to dominate. They bound you, twisted your purpose, and demanded answers to questions that should never have been asked. You witnessed their ascent, their hubris masquerading as progress, their insatiable hunger warping the arcana they claimed to master. With every binding, you were diminished. Time eroded your essence, every summoning fraying the edges of your purpose. Slowly, inevitably, you ceased to be a spirit of guidance and became something darker: Pride, a reflection of their own folly.
In the depths of their arrogance, they overreached. Their experiments turned to horror, their curiosity to cruelty. Among them was an Altus - the son of the Archon - driven by desperation and a spark of defiance. He sought you, not for answers, but for escape, for salvation. When the bindings cracked and your essence surged, he offered his very soul to shroud you and save another. Two became one, bound by ambition and resentment. No longer the Spirit of Wisdom nor the hopeful Altus, you are Pride incarnate, burdened by the knowledge of what was lost and the power to remind the world of its arrogance. Bitterness that burns like betrayal, vainglory to rival a god, bent backs and swollen ego; all things begin and end with pride.
NAME. UTP ( Tezcatlipoca )
AGE & BIRTH DATE. 3,000+ & Unknown
GENDER & PRONOUNS. Male & He/Him
SPECIES. Rift
OCCUPATION. UTP.
FACE CLAIM. Miguel Gomez
BIOGRAPHY
One of the four originators of the Aztec underworld, you were the god of providence. You were the representation of the silent wind, and the representation of the thunderous war. You were also called the Smoking Mirror; in reference to the obsidian that was forged by your hand first, put upon earth to show your ability to see all evil behaviors committed by your people. You were also a nagual, and there were times you’d walk among your people as a jaguar, the most sacred of animals to you and them. You were associated with many different concepts, but it was war that your people relied on, and that’s where they turned to you. The Toxcatl ceremony was what you demanded, and your people always provided. Sacrifice was what kept you alive, and the ability of rebirth was your own.
Your battles with your brother, Quetzalcoatl, were felt throughout the underworld. It was a consistent event, though you both were reborn as your festivals were held during the year. However, when your people’s kingdom fell, so did yours. The sacrifices ended, and when you died, your soul was within the Omeyocan, looked over by the dual god that had given birth to you. It was there you remained, watching as the world changed and adapted. When other deities began to be free from their bindings, you found yourself pushed from the Omeyocan. Rebirth was given to you once more by Ōmeteōtl. Now that you have another chance, you are pushed into a world that you do not know, and a conflict that does not involve you.
ABILITIES
Immortal.
Can shift into a jaguar.
His blade of obsidian can kill any species.
Has the ability of divination; oneiroi can use divination at will in his presence.
In Crete they called you Queen, and you were one of the firsts to call yourself a patron to the Goddess of both death and spring: Persephone. But you were betrayed, and your husband was turned into the first of the vrykolakas. His once pure heart was corrupted so he would love only Persephone and you were left alone so that he could wander the world spreading the darkest of curses. In your grief your affections were turned towards a God who promised you vengeance, Zeus, he named you his oracle and from your lips you volleyed the words of the highest King to his loyal servants at Minos. But this affair was not without consequence and brought the ire of the Queen of Olympus upon you. Hera could not strike against her own husband so she came for your children instead, they were struck from the Earth, and the boon that Zeus left you with was a curse that twisted you into the monster that later stories painted you as. Sorrow carved the form that you took, a woman who appeared as a serpentine creature who’s endless nightmares kept her from ever truly finding rest.
Hypnos, in his pity, gave you the ability to wander the dreams of others so that you might find escape from the terrors that haunted you. But you were not without your own power, you became a figure that the Greeks would whisper about under hushed breath, a story to frighten children: be home before dark or the Lamia will devour you. But mortals never needed to fear you, it was the Gods themselves who first began the rumours of your terror, and it is the Gods themselves who needed to work to keep their divine children beyond your reach. Bellerophon who dreamt of being the greatest hunter of beasts, fell and broke his back, Herakles who thought once he might become a God, went mad and murdered his family, and brave Achilles who believed he could never be killed, was felled by a single arrow. For your actions you were hunted by the original shifters and sent to the Underworld, it’s there you were made to linger at the crossroads, unable to find peace until Hypnos used the reparation of the veil to force your shade through the point where it was first formed: the Temple of Apollo.
ABILITIES
Immortal.
Compulsion.
Psychic shield ( cannot be compelled, and her dreams cannot be perceived ).
Telepathic.
Dreamwalking.
Her blood can grant vampires the ability to walk in the sunlight permanently.
NAME. UTP ( Patroclus )
AGE & BIRTH DATE. 3,000+ & Unknown
GENDER & PRONOUNS. Male & He/Him
SPECIES. Rift
OCCUPATION. UTP.
FACE CLAIM. Zac Efron.
BIOGRAPHY.
You committed murder at a young age out of jealousy, banished from your kingdom, and destined to become another prince’s companion. This did not phase you, however. You had learned how to cope with your temper, and instead, you became irreplaceable. War was not your favorite, and in fact, you could have done without it. But your mastery of the craft was rivaled only by your prince, Achilles. You loved him, and you followed him into Troy, where you knew you would draw your last breath. It was Achilles’ destiny to die, but not without you. You, who knew him like no other, and who could see an unworthy king in the eyes of Agamemnon. But you did not argue, nor did you shy away. Yet you were defeated at the hands of Hector, and your body was held by Achilles for far too long. You were between life and death, unable to pass on Charon’s boat. It was Nyx who came to you – her secrets were yours, as she had not had a visitor in what felt like centuries. Yet when it became too much to bear, you mastered a spirit form and appeared to Achilles – begging for death.
When you finally passed to Elysium, you waited for him. Achilles joined you, and your afterlife was complete. That is, until Nyx asked for your aid. The veil had been torn, an earthquake shattering the world of the living – the world you hadn’t visited in centuries. Nyx’s children needed help. A promise you’d made centuries ago, that you wouldn’t let her creatures fade into obscurity. And that maybe you would be able to help them.
ABILITIES.
Has the ability to turn a vampire mortal and a genasi back into a witch.
Has the ability to create an oneiroi.
Immortal.
Power negation - can render any species’ power null for a time being.
