This is Rome

Aurea

NAME/ALIASES. Aurea Moretti AGE & BIRTH DATE. 27+ & February 18th, 1996 SPECIES. Aspect GENDER & PRONOUNS. Female & She/Her or She/They AFFILIATIONS. Lupercal OCCUPATION. Queen and Alpha of Lupercal

History

Bitten wolf. Aurea was born the proud daughter of a proud family line, a familial coven of witches and lycans alike with a legacy pounding in their veins. Forged in Etruria, The Ivy coven had spread across the globe, survivalists that adapted with the ages; Aurea was a witch descended from those that Salem failed to burn. In her veins were the generations of lycans before her and the witches who’d pinned all their hopes on their future daughters. Even as a young girl, Aurea had a penchant for fixing things; she wanted to know how the world worked, and her competitive spirit made her want to be the best. A silver spoon had been placed in her mouth at birth, but even this wasn’t something she felt she earned, and all that legacy became sour when her mother’s mind fell to the will of vengeful spirits. Shepherded into the care of cousins, Aurea was raised under the roof of an auntie who was more matriarch than her mother and an older cousin who was more akin to a father than a brother. A vigil through the long night kept her from running straight and a safe place to come crashing down in case she ever burned out, but Aurea’s destiny was in the moon that she’d always called mother and the family that existed on the fringes. The Ivy Pack was bonded to the coven, a family line that had been bitten ages ago and remained in the proud familial pact. This was what called to her, and this is what Aurea walked towards willingly; the power that flowed through her was wild and untamed, so when Aurea took the bite, she knew that it was an unknowable step toward what fate had in store for her. The Moretti line was secure; her brothers were sovereign and marshal, but her path was still undetermined. She’d find herself reflected in different parts of the world, on the road with nothing but what she could carry on her back, a trailer hitched behind her until she landed in the city that decided the fates of so many. Aurea fought tooth and nail alongside the senate and her brothers to win back the world ripped away from them; when the Fates decided to give her a second chance, Aurea didn’t back down. Soldier. Heroine. Champion. Alpha. Queen of Lupercal, Aurea was not born into divinity; she was not some God’s chosen warrior or favoured victim; Aurea earned her power the hard way; through tears and violence—a pillar among The Ivy, and leader of the most significant pack the world has ever seen.

Connections

Lycaon: Creator of the lycan line, every lycan can trace their bitten heritage back to Lycaon. The First Alpha has allied himself with The Lupo and fought shoulder to shoulder with Aurea during the events of The End. 

Fenrir: A proto-lycan, the lythari has allied with The Lupo, Lupercal, and their new Queen; Aurea has been acknowledged by Sehanine, which makes the Alpha a point of interest to Fenrir.

Nettelia: Asked very nicely to act as an ambassador between the Pyramid and Lupercal, Nettelia agreed because she likes to see women succeed. Also, she knows Octavian is in Lupercal, so this is a way to keep an eye on him. 

Octavian: Allied with The Ivy and residing within Lupercal, Octavian stands behind Aurea, and while he’s dangerous, he’s also a valuable asset.

Abilities

Destined: In or out of wolf form, Aurea has unmatched strength, speed, reflexes, and senses. 

Lycanthropic Blessing: Aurea can turn any mortal creature into a lycan through prolonged physical contact, and with her howl, she can force a shapeshifter back into its original form.

Immortal: Aurea does not age, is highly resistant to magic, her skin is nearly impenetrable, and any mortal wounds will heal instantly. 

Pack: Can communicate telepathically with her pack and perceive the surroundings of her pack when they're shifted, using their sense and seeing through their eyes.

Weaknesses

Silver: Poisonous to her, the metal will burn her upon physical contact. While silver weapons are not able to kill Aurea, they are the only thing that can weaken her or cause her significant harm.

Blessing: Aurea must have prolonged physical contact to turn someone into a lycan, and this blessing must be accepted willingly.

Alpha: Any supernatural creature that looks at her will recognize her as an Alpha.

Lupercal: If the pack completely disbands, Aurea loses her abilities as an aspect and will return to a regular lycan.

"This is going to hurt." - Valamir

As the Witching Hour dawned over the final round of the Alpha Tournament, the Full Moon and Sehanine’s gaze remained fixed upon the coliseum grounds. Drenched in the blood of lycans, witches, druids, aspects, archfiends, seraphim, and so much more - this anguish and the spirit of wild, untameable violence filled the atmosphere. It permeated the air and soaked into the delicate fabrics that wove the destinies of the people who’d attended Lupercal. The crowd roared and cheered for their chosen favourites because it was impossible not to; the nature of the fight was contagious as countless Gods, Devils, and everything in between took care to watch what was to come.

Valamir did not wrongfully underestimate the she-wolf; quite the opposite, the former druid had been a Visigoth, a Celt, and a Viking across different ages. A Keeper, a King, and an Alpha; he knew when fate was conspiring, and he moved to place himself in its favour. These lycans were weak abominations, and he’d proven as much; one by one, he had put down the very best that Lupercal had to offer: Anders from the Tana, a future Alpha who’d lost the grip on his Fate; Serkan from the Arno, a former Alpha who’d been beaten by his hand. Valamir had let himself go soft once; he did not intend to make the same mistake again. When he was through with Aurea, there would be no question who was best suited to be Alpha, and no one - not even a volatile or a draegloth would be strong enough to take his title from him again. Immortal, an aspect maybe even more potent than Lycaon or Fenrir; he’d entered this tournament to prove something to Eric and himself, and now, with his prize so close, Valamir intended to seize it with teeth and claws.

Aurea is just a girl. She’s a young woman who was a child not too long ago, one who wandered into the woods at her mother’s side and waited long enough to listen to the wolves howl. She was born with magic, and enough of a competitive spirit to make her formidable; her family name helped. Being a Moretti meant something to wolves and witches alike, but it wasn’t the fact that she was an Ivy that put her in the position where she was always trying to fix things. The mechanic knew that sometimes, you had to take apart something at its core to see what was wrong. Aurea was just a girl, a young woman who’d been a lycan for less than a decade, but Serkan was just a boy when he killed the former Arno alpha, and Alek had only been a lycan for eight months when he brought the two packs together. Aurea might not have been anybody’s daughter, but she had a mother in the moon; there were generations of wolves howling in her veins and ancestors who survived the flames of Salem to see her standing beneath Sehanine’s full moon. Aurea had started this for Virgil and The Ivy, but she was finishing this for herself.

The fight wasn’t over quickly; Valamir was more prominent and robust, so Aurea had to be faster and wiser. He’d proven already that once he got his hands on somebody, the fight was over shortly after, but The King was a mountain, and it was only a matter of time before he got a grip on her throat. Under the light of Sehanine’s Full moon, Valamir lifted his fellow lycan by her neck into the air as she beat against the sides of her face with claws and rage that did little but fuel his anger. Dawn was approaching, the moon was waning, and with a breath Aurea partially shifted from lycan to woman, taking advantage of her rearranging bones to heave herself through his clutch before reverting and tearing into his gut with claws and fangs.

"The people who think you are weak have not yet noticed the wolf hiding in your eyes or the flames burning in your soul. Let them think you are weak and do what wolves and fire do best: surprise them when they least expect it." - Virgil Moretti

A rumble ripped through Lupercal, its origin unknown; it began quiet and then rose into a scream. A wailing cry that pierced louder than a banshee's screech reverberated around the walls and brought the citizens to their knees. From Archfiends to mortals, it was enough to draw blood, reminiscent of the time fold almost a year prior when the Asphodel assaulted Knossos - it ended, and the world was right again. Most, save for a few, were unaware of what might have caused this.

Warm beer was floating around again, along with the widely popular milk bone wine, and the games were back on as the sun set over Lupercal.

"I'll make you curse the first kiss your mother ever gave your father." - Nashoba

Dawn rose over the third and final day on Lupercalia. The stands had finally been completed, and while most of Lupercal was covered in litter, the party continued. Lycans, witches, vampires, druids, seraphim, and archfiends alike stumbled through the streets. Bumping into bizarre-looking monsters that had crawled across the veil with a smug look and vaguely Eurocentric features.

Competitors and spectators alike made their way to the stands to watch the beginning of the exciting climax that had been building over the last few days. All Fours had never sold so many bar nuts, The Waffle House's windows had been blown out, but that didn't make a difference, and anyone was giving their two cents on who they thought would win it all.

welcome to rome!

welcome to rome!

"You are wrong. The Gods abandoned you a long time ago. There's no way you can win." - Fenrir

The Six were back. At least, that’s what some people thought. Aegnor caught a glimpse of Titania in her prime, cheering amidst the crowd as vines of shadow wrapped around a competitor and strung them upside down. Rhiannon heard Ezekiel’s voice whooping from the stands as her blade of mage’s bane cut through a witch’s spell. Hakan caught a glimpse of his progeny and Rowan asked his flavor of the week what they wanted to drink and heard Gabriel’s voice: “Liquid courage,” when Rowan turned towards it, he saw Gabriel's face, but once he blinked, the dhampir was gone.

Lucas was feeding some stray cats as he prayed to the Gods for good fortune in the fights to come. Muttering under his breath, Marisol asked if he was talking to himself again, but when he looked up he only caught a glimpse of her smile before the reaper was gone. Uriel was waiting for Logon to come back with something warm when Adatiel sat down beside him; she asked, “Who’s up next?” But when Uriel turned to look at his sister Death, no one was there but Logon approaching with mulled wine. Sat alone in the beer tent, Efigenia enjoyed a quiet glass of red alone; naturally, she’d conjured it from home because she would not be drinking the lycan swill or the milkbone-enriched variant from Old Frascati. Her glass, nearly empty, a hand moved and refilled it for her. Efigenia noted signature cufflinks and the suit that went along with them. She didn’t look, but when she mumbled her gratitude, she heard Kaan’s voice. “You’re welcome.” 

Echoes. Memories of the departed lingered about the event. The Six were gone but refused to be forgotten. Family, friends, and strangers alike caught glimpses of them over the days; they heard their voices, felt their hands at the back, or felt the warmth of their presence, but only for a moment.

ooc info:

"LETS GET READY TO RUMBBLLLLEEEEE" - Lycaon

Held over three days, Lupercal’s doors were open as Lupercalia began. A path was laid through the fey forest so anyone who wished to attend could find their way through the enchanted woods. The council and its emissaries were putting everything they had into making Wolfchella something that would show off the independence and strength of Lupercal. A spell of oblivion had been placed over the town, any humans that looked at the walls wouldn’t remember anything supernatural that occurred within. They’d remember iconic bands like SlipKnot, My Chemical Romance, Twenty-One Knots, The Howling Pumpkins, Wolfgarden, RadioKnot, Lycan in Chains, Jane’s Dog, The PupSpring, Yeastie Boys, Knot Mouth, Counting Crows, Rage Against the Suppressants, 3 Knots Down, Stevie Knots, Knot Doubt, Nine Inch Claws, Pearl Jam, Red Knotsuit Apparatus, AB/O, Linkin Knot, and Weezer. Two new bands also premiered, “Dawg in You” with Anders, Connor, and Dante and “Huntress” featuring Harlow, Paloma, and Milena.

The food stalls served such delicacies as hamburgers, hotdogs, and cheese fries. Anybody looking for more decadent cuisine could swing by the Waffle House where they served waffles at a marked up price. Everyone’s favourite lycan dive-bar, All Fours, offered free beer nuts to anyone who bought the drinks they were best known for, warm beer. Old Frascati was handing out wine curated to lycans, six times as strong as regular wine with notes of milkbones.

Humans would remember the skirmishes, the gauntlets, the fun, the games, and the prizes; they would not remember anything mystical. Anyone seeing the supernatural for the first time would consider it completely normal, and then promptly forget about anything strange. Upon entering people would register for events: Capture the Flag, the Contest of Strength, the All-Fighter Gauntlet, the Lycan Gauntlet, the Coliseum (Singles), the Coliseum (Doubles), and the much anticipated Alpha Gauntlet. By the afternoon, the rosters had been posted and the competitions were set in stone.

Day One of Lupercalia saw the opening contest, Capture the Flag, a friendly skirmish between two teams, followed swiftly by the contest of strength. To close off the evening, the Opening Rumble of the Alpha Gauntlet would take place, securing the roster for the first rounds of fighters. Day Two of Lupercalia would immediately kick off with the Open-Lycan Gauntlet, followed immediately by the first round of the Alpha Gauntlet. The singles tournament would be held in the early evening, and to close out the night, the All-Fighter Gauntlet would be held. Day Three of Lupercalia would open with the second round of the Alpha Gauntlet, where the finalists would be decided. The afternoon would have the Doubles Tournament and after sunset, the semifinals of the Alpha Gauntlet would be held. Immediately following the final round would commence.

See below for the list of prizes, ooc info, and who won Capture the Flag, the Strength Contest, and who will be entered into the first round of the Alpha Tournament.

ooc info:

welcome to rome!

"Seems to me, the last person standing gets final say on who is right or wrong." - Corellon Larethian, God King of the Seldarine

Anyone with intuition could feel it, demons were the most sensitive to the shift, spirits especially. The Inferno was gone and the gods, demigods, and various aspects who relied on the comforts of Elysia, Elysium, and the other afterlives no longer could. The Archfiends had chased many from their divine homes, and the Inferno had dissolved entirely; the Otherworld was flooded with demonic forces. Where The City of New Dis once stood was a crater, a hole punched through the foundation of the Otherworld, through the Underdark, and into the outer rings of the Abyss below. 

welcome to rome!

NAME. Violet Sinclair AGE & BIRTH DATE. 34 & November 20th, 1989 GENDER & PRONOUNS. Female & She/her. SPECIES. Human ( Darkfriend ) OCCUPATION. Bartender at Killjoys FACE CLAIM. Phoebe Tonkin

biography

( tw Child death, blood, loss, satanic rituals, dismemberment) Violet came into this world in the usual way, she had parents who loved her and an older brother who guided her, looked after her and fought for her. She came home a happy bundle of joy to the golden retriever who waited for her, they were an ordinary family who took up residence in the two story house on the corner of the block. She played outside as she grew up and she feared for nothing, the world was open to her and all that mattered was the love was there. It had existed before she had lost it all. She remembers her mother screams, her cries as she found her son's broken body at the forest line behind her house. She was seven and she didn't fully understand, she just knew she would never hear her brother's laughter again or feel his hand on her shoulder. It was an animal attack they claimed, only Violet remembers the wolves who had howled only days before her brothers body had been discovered and she wouldn't forget.

Her parents would go next in a terrible chain of events, they were meant to live an ordinary life full of love but destiny had other plans before she would reach adulthood. Rome had become a dangerous creature full of monsters and the Sinclairs paid with their lives. Her mother would attend grief counselling sessions in the city while her father worked late night shifts to keep the roof over their heads and she made the mistake of passing by the vampiric nightclub on her route home when a thirsty vampire stepped out, her body wouldn't be discovered as it been made rid of, covered up by those with a seat on the Senate. It didn't matter how her family proclaimed that her mother would have never left her last living child and her family behind, the missing person's report was sealed without conclusive evidence.

Her father became lost in his grief but he tried to weather the storm, he tried to be the last light that Violet had in a sea of darkness but he tried to find answer for his son and wife that he lost and when he was found, he had knocked on the wrong doors and his head was found in a witches circle with rituals of blood magic and satanic worship left behind.

Violet was alone, a fire burned within her and all she knew was the pain of grief when a family of hunters would take her in. They had treated her with care and caution, they didn't place a blade within her hands or push her towards training, she had a burden to bear that was too heavy for such a young age. Eventually, she approached them to learn the ways of a hunter. She wasn't raised to fight but an anger had never quieted within her for her family that had been taken and she wanted justice, she wanted to protect those that she could and she wanted to put the pain to use.

She had free access to their journals and weaponry and they taught her what they could, every step in her training was by her own choice and pursuit. Violet learned how to kill and how to destroy supernaturals, ones that her hunter adopted family helped her to understand what had happened to her biological family, a mystery that had been shrouded in shadow.

Violet came home with scars, with open wounds and one night she almost didn't come home at all. A blade through her chest and she lay there dying when she heard the voice, a static voice that seemed to come from within her blood that poured from her wound -- it offered her a gift, an ability to live through any harm that might befall her as long as long as she kept to her violent ways and with a sinister smile, she took the bond and joined the Brotherhood. Serpentine skin grew on the back of her neck and she had become a darkfriend.

personality

+ Resilient, compassionate, motivated - Impulsive, violent, impatient

NAME. Pandora AGE & BIRTH DATE. Prehistoric & Unknown GENDER & PRONOUNS. Female & She/her. SPECIES. Aspect OCCUPATION. Worker at Woven & Volunteer at Porus FACE CLAIM. Zorzo Natharuetai Akkharakitwattanakul

biography

Pandora’s existence begins amidst the flames of the Abyss. 

Born from Vulcan’s forge, she is a prototype for mankind but not one of them.

Never one of them. 

The blueprint to Lilith, Eve, and every woman that came after, and yet she cannot be counted amidst their numbers. 

She was never expected to be anything else than the first masterpiece, the first creation that leads to a thousand future vessels for the gods, meant to be set on the shelf and be left alone forever more. Not a true mortal, not a true daughter of the Gods, yet all gifted nonetheless. A lifelong companion in the shape of an avariel that understood animals better than people, a beauty to compare to the gods and a jar of wonders that she was asked— no tasked— to never open. 

Created, not born, Pandora was an unnatural distillation of the cosmos and as such held a great curiosity by what was natural, what was meant in a way that she was not. Not a denizen of the light, nor one who walks the dark, she found forever at the borders between both, never quite belonging to either, neither quite fitting in. Curious by creation and akin to her godly creator, her intelligence shone in a way no other talents except those gifted by the gods did. 

Not a warrior, but a lifelong learner, not a dancer but a patient weaver. 

Entirely unlike the Gods, but far too precious to be discarded for her very existence held the key to the creation of humanity. 

Pandora came into being under Vulcan’s careful hands and dedication. Outside of Vulcan’s forges as the sanguine elf elevated to god worked on his creation, outside of Elysia as disinterested gods mulled around and prepared for a new realm and the new vessels that would come with it, seraphim fought against the Great Old Ones residing on the realm Ulthar had chosen to conquer. Pandora was not made for that realm, no, the pleasure would fall to her successors, to the complete masterpieces given free will by Prometheus’ rebellion. 

Pandora was not made for the mortal realm. 

She wasn’t made for anywhere, never meant to go anywhere but the forge she was created in. And yet, she was given a privilege like no other: she was allowed to watch what would never be hers. 

She was far too young to understand the seeds of bitterness and resentment planted upon her chest as she watched Laurelin and Telperion grow. Too young and ignorant to understand the mockery hidden behind the gifts given to her by the gods.

Pandora was too young to understand that one should never trust the gift of the gods. 

Until she did, far too late for it to matter. 

Created and thrown into Eden without any experience to hold to her name and with nothing but what she was taught to guide her, Pandora took to this new world with a sense of childish wonder as she went off to explore, arms always wrapped around her jar as if it was her lifeline. 

She doesn’t know how true that is. 

Through it all, her only constant was the jar she felt an enduring attachment to, the jar gifted to her by Vulcan — the man that she would grow to see as a distant father as she discovered the meaning to the word —, the jar that picked and prodded at her ever curious nature as she fought the urge to do as she was asked and not open it. 

In the end, she lasted longer than she thought she would, keeping the jar closed even as Eden’s destiny fell upon it and she stood at the edges, waiting, watching. 

Pandora stayed as Eden fell, as humanity died under the rebellion, all too curious to see the progress, all too curious and wanting to understand why would anyone do such a thing as the fallen did. She didn’t understand then, what it meant to hold fury against the gods in her heart, didn’t understand what it meant to be tricked and set aside by those that stood above.

With time, she would learn. 

With time, she would see the unfairness of the gods and their games. 

Pandora is just barely an adult, not yet grown unto herself, when Eden falls. She watches it fall, watches it burn, eyes curious and bright and yet pained at the misery she can see as the garden falls. Pandora is barely beyond a child, when she realizes she is one of the last Elysian left on the mortal realm.

She is alone. 

Alone with her jar. 

The jar she had wanted to open for so very long. 

Curiosity wins, and the lid comes off. 

Pandora opens her pithos.

 Pandora opens the jar she was told to never open. 

Pandora opens the box that contains all of humanity’s evils within.

The world is never the same. 

Not when in this universe, in this life, there is no hope left behind. 

Pandora opens her pithos, and with it, she loses the last vestiges of the innocence of her youth. 

Open and quickly sealed once more, that means nothing in the face of famine, plagues, curses and disease. These curses upon the universe had existed before she did, but it was by her hand she had returned them to Earth, by hers alone. 

It’s a burden she never forgets, not even as she takes her pithos and flees back to her father’s forge. 

A forge that she finds empty, the flames gone and the man she had seen as a father gone. 

She has no one to turn to with Prometheus bound and punished, Vulcan packed and gone. 

Pandora is left alone, given just enough to keep her complacent, given just enough to ensure their precious blueprint does not leave. 

But a house is not a home, when there is only one person to haunt its halls. 

Elysia is awfully lonely, when you don’t belong amidst the gods nor their chosen lovers. 

Elysia is awfully lonely, when you inherited your father’s  creator’s curiosity, but none of his skills on creation.

Elysia is awfully lonely, when your only place is on the shelf; like a forgotten porcelain doll left alone to gather dust. 

personality

+ Curious. Imaginative. Intelligent. – Insecure. Cynical. Resentful. 

NAME. Elias Van Kirk AGE & BIRTH DATE. 21 & July 9th, 2002 GENDER & PRONOUNS. Male & He/HimSPECIES. Eladrin OCCUPATION. Busser at Killjoys FACE CLAIM. Tyler Gray Lawrence

biography

Elias was different from other kids in ways he could observe but never understand. He was simply better than them. That was the explanation his mother gave when he questioned why none of the other kids could play as he could, or why he had to “hold back”. She told Elias that he was special, different, or simply better without much explanation until he grew too old for vague non-answers. When she finally began to open up about where he came from, Elias fell in love with the fantasy of his father and never looked back. Every night he’d need a new story about how amazing and powerful the faerie his mother fell for was. There was no way for him to discern between truth and fabrication, and to satisfy her over-eager child she definitely embellished some facts, but regardless those stories helped to craft his worldview. Elias no longer rejected his power but embraced it. He was a miracle child, powerful and strong, beautiful and glimmering like the parent who wasn’t there to challenge the pedestal Elias’ mind had placed him on. He was superior and it wasn’t him that needed to hide from the world but the world that needed to embrace him. 

  However, a faiman child unable to let go of the fantasy world he lived in to step into the real one was not something to be praised. It was his notions of grandeur that brought ruin to his and his mother’s lives, but the damage was already done. Once she taught Elias to love his power it became impossible to teach him to dull his shine for anyone. Sure he understood the necessity for discretion and when they moved he knew how to blend in, but without fail, Elias would find a chance where he felt he was justified in using his powers openly. Whether it be stopping a neighborhood bully or showing off to a new friend, he could never keep a lid on his halfblood status. And every time he exposed himself, his mother made them pack up and move. Attention would lead to danger, for there was no guarantee that he’d be strong enough to protect himself from any who’d want to cause him harm. There was no faerie there to protect them, so staying on the move was the best way to ensure Elias wasn’t hunted. This was always difficult for him to grasp, and eventually, he realized what the issue was. Elias wasn’t human, so pretending he was to live amongst them would never fulfill him. He may have been young, but he had no choice but to set out on his own. Elias needed to live among his own kind so he’d never have to hide his true power again. 

  The day he left his home and mother behind was supposed to be the start of his self-actualization journey. In many ways his journey was just that, but not in the ways he imagined. From major city to major city, he embarked on his “faerie hunt” to hopefully learn more about his heritage and where he came from. What he found were horrible truths and hard lessons, but none of the answers he sought. But he learned, Elias learned fast because he had no choice but to. Witches were deceitful and constantly taking advantage of his wanderlust to trap him. Vampires were vicious and cruel, treating him like a slab of meat for their benefit. Hunters were the worst, and he encountered a couple who chased him across state and country lines as if he didn’t have enough to worry about without a pursuer. He fought them all off, because he was stronger and got stronger with each near-death encounter, but his experiences turned him into something he never wanted to be: a survivor. Elias realized that the entire realm was out to get a faiman like him, and he was only able to keep his head due to sheer force and lots of luck. When he did find another faiman, they were able to give him tips but no answers because they knew little more than he did, if anything at all. Elias knew he’d die ignorant and alone if something didn’t change, so he decided to shift his perspective. If he couldn’t get what he needed through traveling, then he’d make a pilgrimage to the place that was overflowing with magic. Rome was going to be his salvation. 

  What he found was absolutely soul-crushing. Upon the time of his arrival, halfbloods were seen as commodities by almost all the other species. Additionally, the very eladrin he believed would embrace him for his strength rejected him for his mortal weakness. Rome was able to finally teach Elias the true plight of faimen in the realm, and he rejected it all. He was better than that, better than them all. He’d been told since he was young. So instead of lamenting, he put himself to work so he could cement his greatness and finally get his due in the place that seemed to be the height of supernatural life. Working at Killjoys was dangerous work indeed, but it was also the best place for him to network. All manner of mortal and immortals frequented the bar and some of them were willing to pay under the table for various odd jobs. Nothing was off limits for Elias, so long as it sounded like something his abilities would make easy. He took risks and did many things he wasn’t proud of, but eventually Elias started to garner a reputation in the city as a capable, powerful mercenary of sorts who seemed to be able to get anything done. His work kept him busy, too busy to care about the rise of the halfbloods on the Senate. Why would he care about them? He didn’t need their help to gain some respect in Rome. Mutat Domun became a representation of weakness that Elias wanted no part of. He was above them and whatever they were doing on the Senate, however his opinions changed when his body did. He became something more than a halfblood, something he couldn’t fully understand on his own. He knew he needed to be with his kind if he were to step into his new eladrin status. Elias answered the call and joined the others in the Fey Forest, finally accepting the authority of the eladrin representatives on the Senate. 

personality

+ Proactive, Idealistic, Courageous - Arrogant, Snarky, Selfish

NAME. Alder Gallois AGE & BIRTH DATE. 24 & February 2nd, 1999 GENDER & PRONOUNS. Male & He/Him. SPECIES. Witch COVEN. Unaffiliated OCCUPATION. Emissary FACE CLAIM. Drake Roger

biography

( tw death ) Alder had always been observant. He had no choice but to be. Overshadowed by other young witches in his coven, Alder was quickly cast aside as ordinary to make room for the stars to shine. Except, he had to wonder if that was actually the truth. Wasn’t he special too? Being invisible to his coven gave Alder plenty of time to watch learn and practice his craft. He wanted to show everyone how amazing he was to work so hard despite their nonexistent expectations. That’s why he made up the game to play with his coven’s young favorite. It was a battle of the mind, a series of illusory tricks meant to best one's opponent. On the surface, Alder lost which was within expectation, but his target didn’t notice the sigil branded into their subconscious. They walked away victorious, all the while hexed with nightmares that weakened their mental state. They lost sleep, gained paranoia, and remained completely oblivious to Alder’s constant siphoning of their reserves when he cast. As Alder rose in skill, his rival declined in faculty until they’d been plundered for all they could offer. Alder was praised as a latent prodigy while some kid who thought they were better got consecrated into the earth. In the end, Alder actually won. 

  After his first, he couldn’t stop. The youngest, most vulnerable members of his coven were untapped wells of wasted potential. The way he saw it, their power would’ve been put to better use in his hands. Receiving his mark wasn’t good enough. He needed more than the magic a normal coven connection to provide. More than that, Alder felt he was entitled to that much and more. Children were untrained which made slipping his siphoning sigil into their minds easy. Plus, with how powerful he’d become from his covert channeling of young witches, no one would lose that much sleep over a few sick kids. He was the future of the coven after all. Alder’s insatiable greed led those he infected to madness, catatonia, or worse and he didn’t care. Unfortunately, he wasn’t a prodigy and got sloppy. He started taking too much, more than he actually needed, and it was becoming obvious. Alder in his arrogance challenged his coven’s Soverign for their crown, believing he had all he needed to be the top witch. Unfortunately, he was bested, severed from his many links, excommunicated from the coven, and slated to be executed. With only his own magic to call upon, he barely managed to escape with his life, forced to flee like a bug. 

  He hated his coven and all covens after that. Alder felt his way was the only way and committed himself to his quest for higher power. It was hard, and he had to stare down his own limitations every day, but over time he managed to find enough trinkets and relics with magic to place his sigil on. Alder eventually began to feel like his old self, but it wasn’t until he learned the location of a lycan bar that his life turned around. He went in with the intention of forcing himself onto whatever beast seemed the drunkest. After all, channeling a creature with supernatural strengths would surely give him all sorts of new power. However, an opportunity arose for him to stop a fight and do a few tricks for the small-town pack and they felt they could make use of him. Alder began living in forest dirt with them instead of on the street like he had been, being useful to them in whatever ways he could for the smallest chance to mark them. It beat toughing it on his own, but it still wasn’t enough. His time with lycans is how he heard about the growing pack in Rome, and their lack of alpha. From old packs to the new Lupo to something even greater, Alder had been privy to all the rumors which is what carried him to Rome. He came with lycans eager to join with only one goal: make nice with the new alpha and channel his great power forever. Alder didn’t plan to become a representative, but the opportunity was too good to pass up so he took it. On the surface he appears dedicated to the pack, studying to improve for their betterment. However, his actions are entirely self-serving. A pack of lycans and their unstoppable alpha would make excellent power cells to pump, but he will not stop there. Whether it comes from a coven or a creature, Alder will continue to want more. He thinks he’s above the concept of a coven. So long as he has plenty of pions to channel, he will continue to cultivate his own version of ultimate power. 

personality

+ Studious, Quirky, Daring  –Impatient, Sadistic, Unscrupulous 

NAME. Vitoria Reis AGE & BIRTH DATE. 30 & October 31st, 1993 GENDER & PRONOUNS. Female & She/Her. SPECIES. Witch COVEN. Narcissus OCCUPATION. Narcissus Archivist & Museum Collections Manager FACE CLAIM. Camila Mendes

biography

Vitória is her mother’s daughter.

Born to the rumored crone of Narcissus, to the woman that hid away in the coven house to avoid overexerting herself lest her disguise fall apart, there is only one legacy she could ever inherit: that of hunger for something just beyond reach. Her mother sought immortality, sought to prove herself better than those that came before, but her daughter’s interest deviated from the Advocate’s best laid plans. 

Where her mother found her home in the school of Destruction magic, Vee found her calling in the delicate art of Illusion.

Where her mother took to blood magic like an eager adept as soon as she could, Vee’s clumsy child fingers slipped from the knife and she looked away every time the blade fell upon her skin. 

Vee is her mother’s daughter, but not in the ways of magic. 

Not in the ways that matter.

Where her mother sought power and dominion to replace the loss of control of a loss coven, Vee sought knowledge, the desire to distill the very essence of magic that danced at her fingertips far too powerful for her to care about power. 

Where her mother was hungry to prove she was more than her parents' mistakes, Vee hungered for the secrets lost to time, for the rituals forgotten or forbidden because she could not be understood. 

Where her mother feared failure and warned her against it by means of retelling her life, Vee learned an entirely different lesson: that mediocrity leads to abandonment, that imperfection leads to the all-consuming loneliness that had haunted her from the moment she had been born. 

Vee is her mother’s daughter, she inherited her keen mind, her overwhelming intellect. 

She did not inherit her hunger, that she got all on her own. A nasty viscous growling entity sitting at the pit of her chest as she struggles with the destruction magic her mother specializes in, a tepid angry thing speaking on the Pythia’s voice as her knife sinks into her skin and she grimaces at the pain that follows the rush of power. 

She will do it, because she must. She will use all the tools in her arsenal, because she fears her mother’s disapproval, the retraction of her conditional love. 

Vee is her mother’s daughter. 

She grew up learning magic at her feet, learned to walk to follow her footsteps lest she is left behind. Always rushing to follow her mother’s footsteps, too afraid to be left behind and thrown aside to take the time to look around, to find another path. Always rushing to practice at the schools her mother specializes in, even when her masteries lie somewhere else entirely. 

Vee is her mother’s daughter, looking at her like she is holding up the sky. 

She has crafted herself to be her reflection, carving away at her softness and ignoring the weeping wounds left behind as she hurries to fit the hurriedly constructed mold that she hopes will keep her within her mother’s grace. 

Vitória is her mother’s daughter, she loves her in the way a child loves their world. 

She doesn’t know if she trusts her the same way. 

personality

+ Ambitious. Analytical. Disciplined. – Selfish. Materialistic. Catty.