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About N0RTH

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  • Custom Title
    Bruiser of Harmonies
  • Gender
  • Location
    United States
  • Occupation

Role Play Details

  • Favorite RP Genre
    Horror/Preternatural/Dark Fantasy
  • Role Playing Style
    Versatile with long, quality posts
  1. blackseed

    And so, Manifest Destiny propels the ego of man to the stars. Theme Song: Pet Earth has been ravaged by the fallout of Nuclear War. In 2016, Russian ran a gambit in order to gain the upper hand in the beginning months of World War III. Operation Hyperion was engaged. Sleeper operatives in high-ranking government positions managed to get ahold of our launch codes and set off the charges while they were still in the silo. However, due to the installment of CEP (Clean Energy Plants) production of a national electric grid, FEMA, and the covert construction of large Mech suits, resting on the seaboards of the Pacific and Atlantic ocean, only the Eastern half of the states were destroyed. In the aftermath, Prometheus, the world’s leading educational academy located in sector Z-0014 adjusted their academic infrastructure to train the brightest soldiers. Orbiting Mars, the space station holds roughly 2000 (students and staff included), has been likened to Guantanamo Bay for its intense and rigorous curriculum focused primarily on espionage and piloting Mech suits. These young students serve as the first defense of an immediate attack from the deep regions of space. To harness the full potential of these suits, a private contractor has dispatch a small team of scientist and mercenaries to Hüeifrdor, where they trawl among the preserved remains of its civilization for the technology to reverse the nuclear damage. What they find, instead, is the what many consider the origin of the “god particleâ€. The team, broken in Alpha and Omega, took half the cache to Earth and the other half to Prometheus, unwittingly awakening its ancient guardians. In the battle for Earth, the lines between allies and enemies blur and the black seeds of our undoing are sowed. {The setting:} Washington, DC 2060 –post-fallout of 2016 Hyperion attack {The Status on Earth:} entire East coast lies in ruins. A nuclear warhead detonated in an unspecified US facility located in Nevada region. Charged was detonated in silo. Everything (including parts of Canada) until Milwaukee, WI is the charred remains of a civilization. Major organizations are now based elsewhere with primary operations now located in Hawaii and Alaska. FEMA and CDC merged into a new organization called D³ (pronounced D-3. abbrev. Disease, Disaster, Destruction Depot) that is now considered the new legislative of government. The lines of War has been drawn on the Prime Meridian – passing through the Royal Observatory, Greenwich, England – the established position of 0° longitude. Both African and Canada have suffered the immediate effects of the fallout, enough to align themselves with the broken Americas. This shift of power has allowed the re-establishment of USSR and tentative alliance between the Japanese have been broker. With the exception of a few scattered militias, most of the standing world has chosen to take a neutral stance. {Hüeifrdor:} Data on the free-floating planet is still being compiled and sent to NASA. A small team privately financed by D³ has been compiled, reporting directly to their private subsidiary Titan Tech. Its core researchers brilliant minds cultivated at Prometheus, protected by mercenaries. OTS 50 is considered equate 12 Earth masses, and therefore, will eventually form a mini-planetary system. Charted at sixteen light years away, it does not appear to have a sun, but does have three exomoons. Temperatures often reach 192° C, rains diamonds (converts into nuclear energy) and has an atmosphere composed almost entirely of oxygen. Information on this planet has not been made available to the public. {Prometheus:} A station orbiting high above Earth’s moon. Considered the premier academy of pilot and espionage training, although it’s methods of education has been equated to Guantanamo Bay. It stands as the first and only defense against possible extraterrestrial entry into our atmosphere. Current capacity: 2,851 applicants, of which on five hundred will emerge victorious. Role Selection: I am looking for writers who can play two characters with ease; I, myself, will be playing an undergraduate of Prometheus Academy and a Linguistics expert. There is no limit to how many secondary characters can be introduced, but there is a limit on the primary characters I’m accepted. Open slots are listed: (2/2) Earth-bounds / (1/1) Prometheus / (2/2) Hüeifrdor Interested? Include the following: Character Sheet: {Name, Age, Height, Weight, Melee Attacks, Weapons Classifications, Specials, Occupation (Primary/Secondary), Detailed Biography, Theme Song and Realistic/Illustrative Face Claim.}
  2. The nights in Anna Mizo are stiflingly hot and its affects are strange on the people here. Babes are restless. The maids spill the milk. The husbands eyes wanders. The wives remain in bed, motionless. Some walk aimless around the small island, bumping into one another in dark, and sudden splashes of crimson permeate the air. Something sounds upon the ground. The birds scream in the trees and the ocean remains quiet. "I have given up on this pathetic human experience," someone calls from the midst of dark, and the birds do not scream, but they weep. The clouds are a blushing gray and ash falls from them — the winds, yes, the winds, lift the dew from grass. They drop blood into the sea. It is a clean, empty process, of earth cleaning its children, sweeping them into disuse. Orchids grow from them—spilled ichor, red earth—and spread pollen. The air is always thick and heavy with ocean and cedar musk and vanilla. The wind quietens and the neighbors crumble into hysterics, the walls are bathe in their blood. There are quick successions of suicide rates. The sounds of miniature thunder sounds — and then, the rains come. They come in heavy sounds. I digress: the winds pick up and the rains are swept like music — the husbands, they roam the island with cocks hard with temptation and the maids creamy buttocks are lifted towards their eyes. The wives say nothing and the babies scream with the birds. It seems it is all is inevitable. While they are filled to the brim in abject loneliness and celebrated angst, I become lost in the rushing scenery, of verdant trees washed white from moonlight. Here, in the low dark, in the summer monsoon, there are minutes where a nomad seduces, the linger of finger in the inside shelter of thighs, a savage grunt of satisfaction, there are hours where a man becomes a beast, where soft flesh like cream parts for the red sea of blood, and his prey slumps into a slumber less sweet than their fucking. It has been three years, since a woman, mauled, half-naked, her spine white and gleaming in moonlight, had been found. Who you are is important enough. A detective from the states, transferred to the island hidden in the fog of the Atlantic, to escape the horror of your last case. Whatever haunts you will not find reprieve in this quiet, sea-burdened community; you'll find there are plenty of washed bones of disquieted ghosts. Genre: Mature, Adult, Horror, Preternatural, Realistic, Dark, and Freeform. Other: Any gender requested. Your character: I have no present silhouette of how I expect your character to behave or appear, but they are creative, witty, and erotic. There are many variations available in the plot. I have constructed it without tight confines for the reason I wish for you to have equal input. Though, there are a few givens: the first, there is supernatural element to my character; they are much different from those around. This holds dark overtones as the interaction is physical and extensive. I expect there to be perverse comments, biting commentary, and incongruous collaborations between them. Specifics: Plotwise, set in Anna Mizo, an imaginary island who's flowers, referred to as Blood Orchids, often cause residents to hallucinate. They appear as lillies with soft round ends. You, being new to the island, are suspectible to its effects. Our characters cross paths for the first time, at the edge of the forest. There is something settling about my character to your human senses - a secret, a curse, you will have an unfortunate experience with. Skeleton: (should include the following in detail) Name ☾ Age ☾ Bio ☾Quirks ☾[1 ]Photograph ☾Opening Post ☾Theme Song
  3. gethsemane

    Humans have reached their modernity. Among the billions, some dare to live upon the thesis no superior power exists; your prophets, your patrons, your prayers are all rallied in indignation that you are much too blind to see. The earth is ready to expunge your filth, it’s womb has been gifted and encapsulated enough blackened corpses. Time is coming to close. It beats in the tensile silence of routine, in the rapid building of civilization and its quicker end. For millennium sleep has escaped and I have watched, the comings and goings of souls evaporated to the spectrum drop. Some return to the suffering time and time again, in a perpetual loop unable to atone for transgressions. Your kind believes in forgiveness and divine favor, in the intervention of a holy messiah to deliver you into new Eden, even as you scrounge lives in hypocrisy. But no more. The entire atmosphere is humming. Avatars are awakening and committing acts entrusted by the often twisted Harvesters that seduce them. It is almost inspiring, the complete ruin they have reckless ventured inside, the sheer ecstasy that consumes them in raging bursts of violet and violence. They are each a creation made desiccated in separation and disgustingly wonderful amalgamated. Soon this hum will be a cacophony of drums and sirens. Angels will not descend from heaven agoras to preserve the flawed art that is your world, and demons--even for as envious and wanton as made—will not claw for your husks. They are weeping for their own existence, they are foolish in their naïve hope that will be spared this annihilation. If you listen close, stop the petty squabble over technology warfare and hushed the echo of fire, you can hear the thrum, can feel me at the edge of the veil, filled with hunger and all the desire that has been denied of me. I have watched for millennium, always waiting in some semblance of patience for you to hurry along in your ignorance closer to my reach. Finally you have come and finally you will be undone.​ “And the stars of heaven fell unto the earth, even as a fig tree casteth her untimely figs, when she is shaken of a mighty wind†Revelations 6.13​ ​ The details: Apocalypse is now –or rather perched on the edge of becoming reality. Famine is slowly unwinding his influence. The Horsemen have felt the tug of duty to play their part in the final interim—we, however, are only concerned with one. Death, the first glimpsed and the last to deliver. And you, my sweet darling, are a mere human. Oblivious to the melody of destruction strung, until you are touched by his presence. There you will become his vessel, his weapon, his ambrosia, a harbinger to the world you once loved. Specifics: Plotwise, set in Israel in an imaginary city called Yedin-Kaseil–famed for baring a cobble-square said to be stained with blood of the Messiah. Here residents are currently at religious war with two other sects: Christianity and Druzeist. You don’t need to know anything at all about religion, biblical text, or be from the region, but supply a detailed account of how your character arrived here. Skeleton: (should include the following in detail)Name ☾ Age ☾ Bio ☾Quirks ☾Physical Description ☾ [1]Photograph/[1]Realistic Digital Art ☾Opening Post ☾Theme Song