#revive.intro

BACKGROUND .

Emil grew up in a poor community in the south with even poorer parents. They hadn’t planned for him, and it sure as hell showed. His father, ever the raging alcoholic, had a penchant for cheating anyone out of anything valuable, and his mother placed all the blame on Emil’s very existence. He was always the fault for their hardship whether it made sense or not. What with another mouth to feed and the added expenses it took to raise another person in their shamble of a household.

That being said, Emil was a terribly curious child with the uncanny ability to slip away; just so he could go exploring and be away from ‘home’. He'd been nine years old when he got lost, purposely split up from his family when they were on a family vacation – well within rural grounds. Somehow he'd wandered far enough to lose all sight and direction of where he had come from. Panicked, he tried to retrace his steps, but came to no avail. He cried and screamed, prayed and cursed the heavens to find his parents again and again until he couldn't utter a single sound anymore.

Days passed as he traveled, trying to keep himself alive until some form of help could come along. The sheer amount of hopelessness made it hard not to panic constantly, but luck lent him a merciful hand in the form of a symbol. One that he felt compelled to draw into the ground. Emil didn’t know why he felt the need, but he did it nonetheless with the freshly drawn blood from a previous fall.

The symbol sparked to life, spilled out an unearthly glow before a form erupted from the middle of it. Something the size of a cat barreled into him with an ungodly screech. They collided in a hard tumble, and he fell subject to razor sharp claws that tore at his skin and clothes. Emil screamed for dear life, panicked about what was going on, but managed to add some distance between them.

That's when he saw the kipine head on.

It had the face of an owl, the body of a cub, wings of a bat and razor sharp talons. Frightened, he sprinted away from it, not wanting to die since he'd just been attacked. Yet as night fell, he exhaustion overtook him. So he did his best to hide himself the best he could from both the elements and the terrifying creature. Throughout the night, he heard the owl thing hoot in successions; a few times he heard a scuffle, but he didn't dare to uncover himself.

As unbelievable as it was, trust had been built between the entity and himself. They kept each other in view ( always far apart ), but the kipine seemed to lead him toward something, or rather somewhere. When he arrived at the ranger station, worn down to the bone and still shaken, no one could believe that a child had navigated the wilderness. Emil rambled about the beast that had led him here, but no one believed him.

The kipine had disappeared without warning.

Life went on despite that horribly fantastical situation. He never quiet grew out of his selective mutism until his mid twenties – not until he met a particular person that forever changed his way of life. A close friend ( one of the only friends Emil had ) gently nudged him towards the idea of upping his roots to start anew in a place that’s now known as Nova Satus.

It took weeks of convincing, but he eventually moved with nothing but the clothes on his back. True to his friend’s word, life was better there. Slowly, but surely, Emil gained his footing in the community.

EXTRA INFO .

Personality: Emil did a complete 180 over the past decade. For anyone that didn’t know him in his twenties ( mid & late included ), Emil’s always been an easy going, compassionate, loudish kind of dude. Always a jokester ( he’s always had that shining humor buried under all of that trauma ), but can be serious and thoughtful when called for. That being said, he’s also known to be stern ( firm believer in the ‘no shortcuts’ kind of route ), and can hold quite a grudge if someone can ever get him genuinely angry.

Summoning: At this day and age, Emil is only able to summon two creatures – the kipine and a manticore. Most of the time, he tends to summon the kipine ( even if she’s considerably temperamental ). Very rarely will he summon the manticore ( due to him being highly volatile and aggressive ).

As far back as he can remember, he’s been special. It was never something to be ashamed of - he could just do things other kids in his grade couldn’t. He could sharpen a pencil from across the room, or get a book to read under the covers without ever getting out of bed and waking up his parents with his footsteps. 

They grew up in a small town on the coast of New England; it probably wouldn’t show up on a map, even if they told you the name of it. And he was happy. He had friends, he had family, there were people who loved him. They loved plants, and animals, and the sight of the waves hitting against the rocks at the base of the cliff the town was built atop.

After high school, they didn’t want to leave. So, they stayed. He took up work in his aunt’s diner, everything was good. Until about a year and a half ago. There was just an incident - it was better for everyone in town if he left. An incident involving a knife, and some kids trying to rob the diner’s cash register. He hadn’t killed the kid, of course - hadn’t even hurt him - but it was enough to send the town into a tizzy with their gossip. 

When trying to figure out where to go, they found themselves driving down a long highway, the radio tuned to whatever channel they could find. Come to Nova Satus, one advertisement played over a station he’d never heard of before. And, sure, it was probably supposed to be a tourist’s advertisement, but he didn’t have any other idea where to go. So he followed the directions he was given, glad for some sort of guidance.

That guidance led him to a town that felt almost like home. It felt right, being there. He found a place to stay, an apartment over some coffee shop. It always smelled like caffeine, occasionally like baked goods, and they quickly got to decorating it with plants, books, pictures. Made it their own.

After that, they found a job by wandering the streets, stopping in anywhere that caught their attention, eventually landing one at a florist’s, the owner of which looked like he needed some extra hands. 

The vessel of Papa Legba was already embroiled in violent sacrifice when the Loa followed his people from West Africa to their destination in the Americas. The vessel’s mother was stripped of her dignity and clothing, and raped by men who had sold her to Spanish ships taken to the Caribbean.

From gestation on the ships, the vessel was born into slavery and put on an auction block. Legba, being the fatherly figure he was to the slaves, followed the child through the trials of being ripped from his mother and forced to grow up in a stunted world. The boy would develop osteomalacia or Rickets due to lack of nutrients and vitamins he needed. Crying in pain, day and night, the boy became a young man with a terrible limp.

To supplement the vessel’s disability, Legba would come to him and encourage the boy through puberty and he would speak Legba’s name and draw the Loa’s symbol for others who also needed guidance. Mistaking Legba for an indulgent Loa, his first sacrifices were goats in the Americas, but knowing they had so little. Legba advised his worshipers that all they need do was invoke his symbol or drip rum on the ground and call for him.

Legba never asked for the would-be vessel’s body, but when said vessel became a man, he slowly tired of his existence and offered himself again and again to Legba so may the Loa be of this world. Legba bided his time until the man decided to make an escape plan to leave the island with others.

The raft was simple and easily put together under the cover of darkness, they asked for Legba to speak their deities for blessings but there was no time for sacrifice to anyone but Legba. Unfortunately, this angered some of the other Loa spirits and the escape was not a success. When the vessel was shot and clinging to life, he once again called out to Papa Legba to take his body and make it a home. Legba finally saw to the dying wish and entered the vessel’s body while it floated at sea.

Papa Legba took the vessel’s body to what would become known as Louisiana in modern times. The Loa traveled the swamps and waited for the coming of more of his people. Other Loa encouraged Legba to seek out a healer for his vessel, but Legba always saw it as a point of his own existence to keep the vessel’s body intact and disabled.

Over hundreds of years, Papa Legba traveled between America and the island nation known as Haiti where his people practiced Vodou and called for him. Only in the last sixty years did he learn of Nova Satus and he took his time in coming to the city for he knew too well how an ill-timed escape to somewhere better could lead to death.

Being a Loa of peculiar tastes, he opened Epoch, a speakeasy that is not easily found. Being the Loa of roads, doors, and keys he made way for a place to come and have oracles deciphered, fortunes told, or guidance given to people who worship him. The cost at the door? One good, strong memory that you will sacrifice forever. After all, it makes no sense to put more blood on the ground, at least not yet, though such a dripping of blood in Legba’s symbol might bring you closer to the threshold as the rumors are said.

Papa Legba has the ability to shift into an old mutt of a dog with a limp and this is often the form he chooses when someone wanders into a crossroads and calls for his presence. He will usually be a menacing beast in this form because he is not happy that he’s been called to a place of trickery. He expects his worshipers to plan their journeys so there will be no crossroads.

Some additional abilities include knowledge of the location of other deities, but that does not mean he will give up the location without being told what is desired and given sacrifice. It’s going to take more than rum on the ground in most cases. He can also decipher oracles and in that way, fortune telling is also his privy as is the granting of luck in his presence. Also, he has pet rats. Try not to mind them.

Legba’s main ability, however, has to do with travel. He is the keeper of roads, keys, doorways, and gates. You will find his symbol in these places and Legba may choose, depending on the sacrifice if he will allow the person to enter, be it his speakeasy or otherwise. Finally, he can grant the ability to speak directly to a deity, however, he is not responsible for the deity’s mood or the consequences of the disruption.

Legba’s weaknesses are mainly physical. He is always carrying his vessel’s pain and inability to walk without a cane. He also has a slight hunch to his back and cannot stand up straight without help, which he usually rebuked. The Loa is also vulnerable at crossroads, which is why he doesn’t like to be called to them.

For appearances, most of Papa Legba’s clothes are old and out of style, but he finds the loud suits and under clothes to be comfortable and he will wear them until they are rags. He also typically wears a hat and always has a cane as well as a pipe or cigar in his hand. He prefers rum to all other liquor so if you want to appeal to him, buy him one at the speakeasy, if you can find it.

While taking a vessel is usually a process that is more inviting, Cassius has occupied this one for as long as he cares to remember (or tell), for more intimate reasons. The story changes depending on when and how he is telling it, but few have managed to settle him enough to garner the real account of the way things happened. Some are given the tall tale of ritual sacrifice, a dramatic rendition of his ceremony, others are told the long winded yet rewarding story involving a lover with a dream to keep whatever was left of a broken heart.

The truth? The truth was that the man he occupied now was the cemetery keeper for the body of one of his greatest lovers. This usually wouldn’t have made him particularly special, but it was watching the way the man continued to work through, or passed, his own needs to give to the dead that made him appealing. His loneliness was so palpable at one point, that the gift of possession seemed like it would, and could, come as a relief. So, they had made a deal.

Cassius sat with this man for awhile, days turning into years, until finally he had agreed to preform the ritual that would allow him to live forever, even if he was forced to shove over for the needs and wants of a loa that was fickle yet somehow still honorable, in some sense. When they joined, he allowed the man to occasionally slip through, to have a few days, a few moments, a few memories that would and could be his alone. In a sense, some would say that he loved his vessel, and they wouldn’t be wrong. Where they were, wrong, though, was in thinking that this gave him some kind of weakness.

That was years ago, though. Years, decades, centuries. He has been here, watching, operating, living his life. Throughout those decades he has indulged all of his whims, whether it be working as a doctor and enjoying the irony in being the one that would decide if sickness would bring them to join the dead, or would they bounce back better than ever; or a coroner for his people, specifically, because America was never warm enough to them, and they died on the street far too often for his liking.

When he was coroner, and when he deals with the dead, he is the pillar of guidance and assistance. They don’t deserve to feel fear when they pass, the simpler parts of humanity can bleed away to make way for the after life that is often more welcoming than the world can be. That’s the caveat, isn’t it? He knows celebration intimately, even in the fact of despair, but that doesn’t mean that he is always the poster boy for this years fuck boy Olympics. No, you just have to know how to talk to him nice, to ask him to be serious for a moment, and you’ll always get a seriously answer, lecture, or piece of advice.

As the stories go, he has always had an issue with food. The glasses that usually adorn is features are not needed, but we’re once used as a tool to hide the way he watched those who much steal it from him. Now, they are more of a dramatic accent, but that doesn’t mean that he is particularly forgiving for anyone that steals from him, or his following, considering it a large offense, and one well worth holding a grudge for.

At the advice of a very specialized therapist, he would open the restaurant behind his love of said food. He learned that making it, that giving that gift back to people, eased that anxiety and began to quell his need to constantly run away with sustenance that he did not need. Eventually, his passion became the restaurant that would stand today. It gives him a chance to deal with his own bullshit, but it also seconds as a chance to bestow his own blessings on people - through charity donations, catering funerals (an obscenity special that is always pro bono), or just lifting the spirits of those that enter the front doors.

He found Nova Satus to be the right place for that years ago, and when he was approached about their potential return to full power, he jumped on it. The man might be partially dormant, but he misses the way that belief flows in the blood, the way it sets your body on fire. The way appreciation tingles right under the skin, the way adoration feels when it’s whispered against your lips. All of it he has chased on a small scale, but now, now it has to return full force.

Cassius goes by Baptiste and very rarely allows or enjoys anyone else calling him by his first name. Much like the truth behind his origin story with his vessel, this is a privilege for a select few, rather than a standard setting.

Baptiste often is found wearing all black, almost to the point where it is comical that the man even owns any other colors. However, alternatively, if anyone makes the mistake of telling him that he looks like he’s dressed for a funeral, he simply grins while explaining that a funeral is the most important party you’ll ever have.

Baptiste is extremely sex positive, and will throw hands over anyone who decides to slut shame, kink shame, or otherwise. Because of this, he also hasn’t had too much of a history in committed relationships. It’s not that he is not open to them, they had to just be worth the while, and keeping both his interest in personality and his need for filth in the bedroom can be...well, a task.

Baptiste is almost always wearing a pair of glasses, most frequently they are sunglasses that are either pushed on his nose dramatically, gestured with, or otherwise.

Papa Ghede is well known for the obscene, both generally and sexually. That being said, he is always going to be the first one to say something vulgar to some degree. He is unapologetically shameless, and smooth in a way that is both attractive and irritating, depending on the day and person. Alternatively, catch my guy with a very popular only fans account, the number one fan of whatever day myst gets new shipments in, and rolling through every single amateur's night at the local strip clubs.

Last but not least, at least for now, he also tends to be jovial, in a sense, dancing words in circles or saying shit just for amusement value or to get a reaction. I apologize in advance for whatever nonsense is going to come out of his mouth, truly. That being said, that is just how he operates. However, if you want or need him to be serious about something, the solution is simple: use your words. If you ask him to be serious or take something seriously, he will, and he will offer a solid response.

POWERS

death force manipulation

vodou magic

necromancy

healing

enhanced charisma/sexual inducement/sex deity physiology

underworld lordship

possession/aspect manifestation 

contract bestowal/summoning/power bestowal

wish granting/blessing inducement/curse inducement

immortality

WEAKNESSES

contract/blessing/curse negation (including prolonged use of blessing, power, contract or misuse)

may also need to present offerings, complete task or favor, or user must have certain qualities to obtain curse/blessing.

all wishes come with price and balance, all wish, curses and blessings come with loopholes and twists.

can be bound by high level magic (usually requiring several covens/witches/magic beings)

weakness creation/inducement/empowerment

spicy healing (aka he has to take on some portion of the sickness he is taking away, or suffer some consequence in order to do that)

possession can be negated by rune, certain protection spells

BACKGROUND .

son of the primordial gods nyx and erebus, charon is the fabled ferryman of the rivers styx and acheron.

though diligent with his work, he has a heart of greed. souls of the  deceased must pay a toll in order to cross for judgement. if the fee is unmet then the shades aren’t granted access to his skiff and left to wander the shores for a hundred years.

bonus: if anyone made an attempt to rob him ( like a fool ), charon’s oar is then labeled rated e for everyone. 

in modern times, it’s rumored that he changed modes of transportation. from the river of styx to the tunnel of twygs – charon ( aka charos ) now guides the newly deceased in a taxicab.

EXTRA INFO .

personality: first and foremost, charos is quiet; movements silent as a shade, not one for many words, etc. that isn’t to say he’s disrespectful or rude, though. he’ll treat anyone with respect until given a reason not to.

instead of an oar, charos’ preferred weapon is the detachable steering wheel of his vehicle. 

his eyes are of a bluish-grey color & it’s sometimes said that they tend to flash when he’s angered. he can only see in black and white, but souls retain color.

strengths: 

soul detection –  able to see if another possesses a soul or not ( aka living or not ), but is limited to his regular vision 

coin manipulation – able to recreate any coin he’s come into contact / studied in detail at any time. 

weaknesses:

greed – as diligent as charos is when it comes to work, he is susceptible to bribery. especially if the payment in wager is substantial.  

About Sun 

Monkey turned Godly Stableboy turned down to normal gain

Literally has no concept of self control but was loyal to Tripitaka on his journey 

Along the way he learned compassion for others (well as much as a monkey-man could) 

In the end returned to the heavens

Well until he annoyed about cleaning stables hence 

Nova Status:

He went to Nova Status just to prove a point to the Buddhist monks again

He decided he should align himself with another god who could put up with his shit Tu’er Shen

While he noticed his powers acting a bit out of whcak (even by his standards) hes not to lax about it 

Though he might try to fight someone diety or otherwise thats just his nature 

Powers 

Enhanced Strength

Enhanced Agility 

Zoolingualism (Limited to Monkeys)

Wind Manipulation 

Darkness Sensory

 Weaknesses:

Enhancements often burn metabolism in his human form leaving him very tired 

Can be overpowered by wind himself (i.e blizzard, tornado etc) 

Cloaking by stronger entities can hide their own darkness 

BACKGROUND .

His name was Seiko Nishikido, and they always chased after something they didn’t believe in. His childhood was founded on the absence of parents. One was a neurosurgeon while the other was a lawyer. Neither one of them had that much time on their hands, but they still popped out three children in spite of it all. Unsurprisingly enough, all of the Nishikido children weren’t too different from their parents. All of them had an iron grip on their diligence, and nothing could get in the way of their ambitions.

All except for Seiko, that was.

See, the Nishikido lineage consisted of doctors or lawyers and nothing else. Seiko started off the same, but they realized that the subject made them feel absolutely miserable. He was more than capable of becoming a successful surgeon, but chose to defy the family tradition. And with their declaration, came an early life crisis by being disowned by his own family.  Crushed, Seiko barely lived through the next few years of their life. If it wasn’t for his close friends, they might have never survived at all. Yet the grief eventually turned into anger, and the anger resulted in the spite it took to pursue his own passions.

It had always been a morbid fascination of theirs to prove the science blatant trickery of the acclaimed ‘paranormal’. So he worked himself to the bone in order to establish himself as a paranormal investigator. And somehow, but some stroke of luck, they ended up making it big. 

It’s too bad that his profound career was the exact thing that robbed him of his life and more.

The last case they had was perilous. Seiko and his crew went in completely confident that they could debunk it, but they couldn’t have been more wrong. The spirit in question came from beyond their great-grandparent’s time, and it was full of bloodthirsty malice. He ended up possessed by the spirit and was driven insane. By the time law enforcement showed up, Seiko was found dead alongside three of his crew members. The same one that he had loved and cherished as his own found family.

Overtime, the abandoned building was purchased and repurposed as a LOCATION. Seiko’s spirit had already been restless, but the booming business only disturbed them more. 

EXTRA INFO .

seiko is the most active from dusk til dawn. they are still able to wander past those times, albeit done very rarely. 

as a jibakurei, he is bound to the place of his death ( i’ll figure out the exact location at a later time ). 

still believes that they are an active paranormal investigators. they do not usually question the holes in their thoughts / timeline. often times, seiko will be seen with a camera & tends to interview the people they come by. 

STRENGTHS:

invisibility & apparition materialization: can be done ‘at will’ ( mostly subconscious ), but takes a considerable amount of energy to maintain the manifestation. 

two forms: stable, seiko looks completely normal. unstable, seiko’s appearance morphs into the condition of which they died in.

telekinesis: power to move, manipulate or otherwise interact with objects/matter with one's mind. heavier objects are more difficult to manipulate. 

fear inducement: grows in strength if seen in their condition of death. 

possession: able to possess living beings, but not for long. 

energy independence: does not need to eat, drink, or sleep.

WEAKNESSES:

fulfilling seiko’s purpose: one must show evidence & convince them of the whereabouts / happenings of their previous crew. many have tried, but seiko is unable to fully accept the truth. they then become incredibly unstable and malicious towards people.

ofuda: if placed on the forehead, seiko will be banished. if placed on an entryway, they will not be able to enter.

proximity: powers weaken & seiko becomes more unstable the further they get from the grounds they’re bound to. 

resurrection / necromancy

Remington DuPont is old enough to know better, but somehow still too young to care. Perhaps that comes from the way that he can still remember the way his mother would sing him to sleep as a child, or the way his father was the first one to split him lip, but not when exactly he became what the southern folks always jokingly called “gods favorite.” His memory can reflect to what seemed like an unfortunate birthmark, trying to rub the ugly from his skin with soap and water, or even trying to peel it off in secret, only to find it would never quite go away.

That was the first one, the one that still remains right over his pulse point on the inside of his wrist. He knows what it is now, but then? It was only a superficial inconvenience. As he grew up, he carried with him somehow, comparmentalizing what he needed to, his mother’s softness and affection, paired with his fathers tough edges and hard hits. Somehow, they seemed to create the perfect blend of understanding determination. He was a vision, magnetic and undeniable to most who ever had the fortune or misfortune of running across him.

That wasn’t to say that he was always the favorite in the room though, considering the man eventually would grow into the kind of flavor that left no room for gray area. It was black, or it was white. Either you loved him, or you hated him, and very few ever found a way to keep themselves comfortably in the middle. Regardless, in the grand scheme of things, he was still young when he lost his mother. He should have seen it coming, considering by then the symbols, the so called birthmarks had started appearing more frequently. Most, he hid out of fear of being accused a witch, or hung as one.

Her death, unbeknownst to him, was written in his skin. It disappeared the day of the funeral, and he began to put those pieces together, the next coming as a fly by night message, a simple “I’m sorry” written in the palm of his hand for less than twenty four hours. It was a penmanship that was striking, beautiful, and he would never forget it (not that he would have the chance, it was the first but not the last time he would see it). After that, he chased answers to this new set of questions while his father chased all the ways to forget his mother. Eventually, he found one that would help him: death.

Mother, and then father, both gone within a year of one another left him right over the cusp. A boy who had become a man, the last one of his family, but the first of something else. He looked for answers slowly, eventually managing to come by a few clues, a few explanations for how his gifts worked and why, but never the who, a silent back to this gift and a curse. Throughout the years he would learn how to navigate this gift, up until the civil war, when his people needed him the most.

Whatever this deity had in store for him, it was ignored. The messages were left unanswered, just collecting on his skin for a few months before finally, it seemed that whatever prayers he had been silently saying, were answered. They assisted him, helping him navigate safe passage for the true victims of that war, helping him work the railroad as it should have been. He saved plenty, but it was the ones that didn’t make it that would stay with him at night. It was the way that he was allowed to carry on when some of them would never get the chance, that would ruin him eventually, or at least parts of him.

He has always been like that though, stubborn, demanding if he has to suffer the consequences of a gift he didn’t ask for? That it actually be put to good use for something, or someone, that was greater than himself. Yes, some of the signs, along with what he assumed was small pieces of magic, were what kept him alive. But, that didn’t mean that he was vulnerable, or already damaged, because there would still be days where he could barely get out of bed, crushing himself under the weight of a survivors guilt for all the names and faces of those that he didn’t make it to, those that weren’t deemed worth of saving, or those that simply had used up all their time. His deity might have understood that death wasn’t a punishment, that sometimes it was better than life for some, but he rarely did.

It was only later when his gift would start to morph, to change slightly, that he would be given back some of his memories that would start to explain parts and pieces of why he was given this. His mother’s devout prayers were heard, her faith in the ancestors given root in her son. He still sings the songs she would have taught him, early mornings and late nights, perhaps in homage or maybe because he needs to remember his roots now, more than ever. Regardless of what it was, he would need to seek out Nova Satus the minute he heard the message in between the air waves.

If he’d been seeking this mysterious god for centuries, surely, the best place to find them would be where power was promised to be restored.

NOTE: Remington’s powers do not function the way that typical “oracle’s” work. He does not see the future, but instead it shows up as tattoos (symbols, art, and handwriting) on his skin throughout time, and he sort of just has to “clue” that shit and figure out what it means/is. These powers were gifted to him by a deity (wanted connection, hit me up!), whom he has never met or even figured out who they really are, which was his reason for coming to nova satus.

STRENGTHS:

Danger Intuition 

Death Sense

Precognition 

Object Based Retrocognition (Occasionally)

Semi Immortality

Psychometry

Accelerated Healing 

Slight spell casting/Magic Use

WEAKNESSES

Precognition based on tattoos/art on skin

Retrocognition and Psychometry is spotty at BEST and typically only available when helpful for precognition based “missions”, and limited to TOUCH specifically

Mental, Physical, and Emotional Toll taken often, causing fatigue and other issues

Disease, Mortal Wounding, etc (Healing is not as speedy as a vampire or werewolf, per say )