Sign Up Requiem Under the Crimson Moon

[Talon]

[color=crimson][u][b][i][center]Romania, January 12, 2008[/center][/b][/i][/u]

The silver slice of a heavenly crescent slowly rose over the crested mountaintops of the province of Walachia, bathing the landscape in an eerie glow. Near the ruins of an abandoned church under this pale blanket, two figures stood near the south wall, embroiled in some bitter argument. With a shake of the head, the taller, more erect figure could be seen to slump, as if in acquiescence. He spoke, his heavy German accent and the lack of sleep in the night slurring his words.

"Very well, Julius. I do not like it, but you are right."

The second, cloaked figure nodded sharply; his only answer.

"Ach, I shall go, then. We cannot allow...."

He sighed as he looked up. The cloaked figure was gone. He gathered his own cloak, setting off away from the church. He needed to be back in Bucharest by sunrise; he needed to catch a flight very, very soon....[/color]

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[color=teal][center][b][i][u]New Orleans, January 15.[/i][/u][/b][/center]

The five o'clock shadows seemed to stretch on forever as the sun's light slowly began to rise in the New Orleans suburb of Metairie. A young man gazed around himself, his eyes slowly adjusting to the growing light even as he approached true wakefulness.

He could not say what it was that awakened him. Perhaps it was the lack of warmth at his side, the sometimes-resting place of his girlfriend. Perhaps it was the way the sun's rays slapped him in the face as he turned to gain just a little more heat from his comforter.

Or perhaps it was the dreams again.

He sat up, trying to banish the images he did not understand from his mind. A glint of silver, a feminine shriek, and a pool of hideous crimson. A pale-faced specter with no expression and no body, wreathed in black. A regal costume, marred by the rents and rips through the bloodless cloth.

He shook his head clear and cursed himself for his childish nightmares, stretching the kinks out of his back as he quietly crept from the room so as not to wake his friends from their own slumber. His shoulders slumped further as the blinking display on the answering machine drove a stake into his heart; Riza had not called yet again. Three nights in a row.

His mood steadily worsened as he stomped off to the shower, no longer caring about the wakefulness of his roommates. He had to get ready for work, anyway.

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He entered his home slowly, a yawn escaping him as he threw his wet apron over the back of a nearby chair. He stumbled into the shower, cursing the smell of baked-on grease and industrial strength soap as he always did; he hated smelling like dishes at two in the afternoon. He climbed out of the shower and into a pair of slacks, fishing for a cigarette in his jacket pocket. He struggled with his lighter before a blaze of light appeared before his eyes, igniting the cancer stick and almost giving the man a heart attack.

"Uncle Reinhardt!"

The tall man simply nodded, a forlorn smile on his face. The older man settled into a chair and studied his nephew. With a sad smile, he broke the awkward silence as his young nephew puffed on his Salem.

"It's rather curious that you should smoke this brand, nephew. Your great-great-grandmother, Danya, was killed at those very trials."

The young man regarded his uncle with astonishment, his cigarette hanging loosely between his lips. The old man shrugged and continued on.

"I apologize; I have such things on my mind, ach."

The young man nodded slowly, the ash on his cigarette slowly choking out the cherry as he failed to refresh it. He raised an eyebrow as his uncle began pacing back and forth through the room.

"Ach, lad, forgive me. We must go, you and I; we have much to do, and little time."

The young man opened his mouth to retort, declaring he had a job, security, a girlfriend; he wasn't going anywhere. But his uncle grabbed him by the shoulders and impaled him with his clear, blue eyes.

"Your girlfriend has gone missing, nein? And you have been having the dreams, nein?"

The young man choked on the remainder of his dead cigarette's smoke. How could he know?!

"It matters not, ach. We must go; your father has entrusted me with this! You are the only one! We MUST go! We must fetch the others, ach!"

At this, the young man coolly raised an eyebrow. His father had been dead for years, savaged by a wolf in the forests of Germany. And others? What could he mean by 'others'?

"Alone, you are helpless, as you have not been trained. Ach, that your father could not train you! But it is no matter! We MUST go! We must get the other families! Come, come!"

With that, the old man grabbed his nephew and dragged him out the door, a half-hearted follower who just wanted some answers. They paused only to lock the door, and they were off.....

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[b][color=crimson]Many hundreds of years ago, a great evil arose from the bloodbath of the Crusades. Mocking God and all His works, this evil forced his best friend and comrade to slay his own fiancé simply to gain the power of Immortality.

This was the beginning of the struggle between the Belmont clan and Vampire Lord Vlad Dracula, the Prince of Darkness.

The Belmont clan has branched into many numerous clans since; the Graves clan, the Baldwins, the Morrises, and the Belnades clan, but only the main heir may use the legendary Vampire Killer whip, the whip that was created when Leon Belmont was forced to kill his fiancé, with impunity.

Thousands of years, and dozens of conflicts between them later, the Belmont clan has found itself in a tight bind. The forces of darkness have again gathered, but the last Belmont to wield the whip, Julius, is dead, leaving his untrained son of nineteen years the only heir to carry on the Belmont legacy.

This has never happened before; the forces of darkness have broken the laws of balance. To right this wrong, the branches of the family tree and various other forces of good must gather in number, to aid and train the fledgling vampire hunter to rescue his lost beloved and earn the right to take up the legendary Vampire Killer.[/color][/b]

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[b][u][i]Required Statistics[/b][/u][/i]

[b]Name:[/b] Your Slayer's name.

[b]Age:[/b] There is no limit to age within reason.

[b]Skill Focus:[/b] Your character's particular strength; such as physical strength, magical capability, the ability to summon and control various creatures, etc.

[b]Primary Weapon:[/b] Your character's weapon of choice.

[b]Strengths:[/b] Your character's best attributes, such as high physical capability, or the ability to break through stone walls with a punch.

[b]Weaknesses:[/b] Your character's Achilles' Heel. Low stamina? The inability to handle pain?

[b]Clan Gift:[/b] A blessed weapon that has been entrusted to you as the representative of your family, such as the Thorn Whip, the Flame Whip, the Blood Drinker, the Claimh Solais...it is your choice which legendary weapon you wield. But remember; each Gift comes with an equivalent Price.

[b]Personality:[/b] A summary of your character's mental and emotional traits.

[b]Appearance:[/b] Your character's physical appearance.

[b]Biography:[/b] A brief history of your character's life, leading up to the gathering in New Orleans.

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[COLOR="RoyalBlue"]
[b]Name:[/b] Victor Belmont

[b]Age:[/b] 19

[b]Skill Focus:[/b] Capable of equipping and harnessing the strengths of certain monsters that lay defeated at his hand; remains locked as yet.

[b]Strengths:[/b] Unknown; capable of wielding the Vampire Killer with impunity, and is incapable of being Turned into a Vampire by normal means.

[b]Weaknesses:[/b] Currently unable to wield the Vampire Killer; lacks training and focus.

[b]Clan Gift:[/b] The Vampire Killer; it is said that this is the only weapon that may defeat the Prince of Darkness for good. However, the cost of wielding it is high; it drains the life of any but the main heir of the Belmont lineage. The cost it exacts upon each heir, however, is different. Its effects on Victor remain unknown as yet.

[b]Appearance:[/b] [url=http://castlevania.classicgaming.gamespy.com/Images/Scans/PoR/pic_01.jpg]Victor's Recurrent Destiny[/url]

[b]Personality:[/b] Victor is an extremely self-sufficient young man who has trouble trusting anyone. However, when his trust is earned, he becomes your staunchest defender. Combined with this, he has a fiery temper with a very short fuse. This has led to his involvement in very many fistfights, almost all of them victorious. He is a chronic worrier, and as such has become a heavy smoker. He is also highly skeptical of anything magic, and as such, can become extremely unstable when presented with proof that the supernatural may exist.

[b]Biography:[/b] Victor's life has not been easy; when he was only ten years old, he was forced to watch as his father was savaged by wolves and dragged away in the wilds of Germany. With his mother long-since having died giving birth to him, Victor was placed in the care of his uncle, Reinhardt. His uncle, knowing the boy could care for himself, and having other matters to attend, left the ten-year-old to attend school and disappeared, though he would frequently reappear with souvenirs for his young nephew.

When he turned sixteen, Victor immediately began applying for jobs, eventually becoming a dishwasher for an eat-in lunch diner. Three years later, with few and far-between visits from his wayward uncle, and Victor has grown into a very self-sufficient young man, though his mind is somewhat closed to new ideas.

When he was seventeen, he met and fell in love with a young woman named Riza Bathory, a lovely young woman with a cool demeanor and a warm smile. Curiously, she is an open-minded individual who firmly believes in the existence of magic and the supernatural, though her boyfriend does not, though her insistence and his care have begun to eat away at his resistance.[/color]

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This RPG will contain elements of adult situations and swearing, as well as violence and gore in excess.

For those who are familiar with the source material, this RPG disregards 'Aria of Sorrow' and 'Dawn of Sorrow' from the continuity and assumes that Julius Belmont failed to seal Castlevania in the eclipse, and later met his end.

Thank you for reading, and may you have as much fun in this endeavor as I did coming up with it.[/b]

[Skye]

[size=1][b]Name:[/b] Celia Grave

[b]Age:[/b] 26

[b]Skill Focus:[/b] Has an insane telepathic ability – can intrude even the strongest shielded mind.

[b]Primary Weapon:[/b] A set of matched silver [url=http://www1.istockphoto.com/file_thumbview_approve/358636/2/istockphoto_358636_sais_on_marble.jpg]sais.[/url]

[b]Strengths:[/b] A strong resistance to magic, as well as being influenced by “vampire mind tricks”

[b]Weaknesses:[/b] Has a sadly strong lustful personality – she’s working on it.

[b]Clan Gift: [/b] The Blood Drinker; Celia keeps it very carefully sheathed, however, as the first time she touched it she nearly killed her own brother. The blade’s bloodlust has made an attempt at controlling her more than once, and every time she has nearly given in – which scares her immensely because of her normal resistance to magic. So instead she uses her sai’s, unless it is a life or death situation; then she lets it feed.

[b]Personality:[/b] Celia can be rather ditzy, and has numerous “blonde” moments where she just [I]doesn’t get[/I] it. She’s very smart, and can do calculations in her head that would take most people ten minutes and a few pieces of paper – and get it right first time. She just doesn’t have half the sense God gave little green apples. Which is why she generally sticks to the shadows. Also, she has this problem where she lusts after anyone even slightly attractive.

[b]Appearance:[/b] Celia is a rather petite woman of about five two, weighing in at 100 lbs. Still, for being short she is pretty voluptuous. Her small, childlike hands are often covered by rough velvet gloves – which are her main protection against the Blood Drinker. Her feet are often clad in soft leather slippers, which allow her to move around quietly but still feel the ground beneath her. Her eyes are large, green orbs set evenly in a heart-shaped face, with a rosebud mouth that is turned out in a perpetual pout. Freckles dust her slightly up-turned nose, as well as generously dusting her slim shoulders. Her hair is rather short and shaggy, in a pixie cut, and is a bright strawberry blonde. She usually wears comfy, flexible clothing – almost everything she owns is skin-tight.

[b]Biography:[/b] Celia was about 5 when her mother left. She didn't die, she left. The proposed idea is that the family's nearly obsessive objective to defeat evil was a little more than she could handle; so, supposedly, she disappeared before it drove her mad. Every now and then, she would resurface to spoil her child nearly rotten, but then her father would remedy the situation by drilling her in weapon use until she collapsed. This became rather routine for her.

When she became old enough to start needing female guidance, her father thought she would lose her interest in weapons so he tossed her to a metaphorical pack of wolves - the maiden aunts of the family. They fawned over her incessintly, trying to convince her that a woman's place was not out fighting but at home making a living for yourself and your family. Celia, of course, being her father's offspring to the core, scoffed at the idea of a family and was often found climbing trees instead in ripped jeans with holes in the knees.

Her life was rather uneventful until a couple years ago, when she resumed training under her father. Being a clan of such dedication, they had been entrusted with the Blood Drinker - and Celia amazed all at being the only one who could hold it without slaughtering those around her. Now she has one rather blood thirsty blade and a proposed "destiny" - and she doesn't much like it.[/size]

[Lilt]

[COLOR=Indigo][B]Name:[/B] Etel Robi

[B]Age:[/B] 15

[B]Skill Focus:[/B] Elemental magic

[B]Primary Weapon:[/B] A silver dagger, with some ornaments on the hilt.

[B]Strengths:[/B] Etel is very agile when the situation calls for it.

[B]Weaknesses:[/B] She feels defenseless in certain situations that rob her of her magic.

[B]Clan Gift:[/B] Her elemental crystals, which allow her to use her magic.

[B]Personality:[/B] Etel is a very open person. But because of this, she sometimes finds that people avoid her. She feels a very close connection to the Belmont clan, and likes to be supportive in battle and not the leader usually.

[B]Appearance:[/B] [URL="http://i8.tinypic.com/86r8760.jpg"]Etel practicing her magic[/URL]

[B]Biography:[/B] Etel grew up as a descendant of the Belnade family line. As such, her childhood would be considered a bit strange by many people.

Her mother, another direct descendant, taught Etel the ways of the female members of the family. She taught Etel all the spells she knew, and even where to learn some that she had never learned herself. She also was the one that gave Etel the elemental jewels that she owns today. These jewels were passed down for generations, from mother and daughter as far back as the start of the Belnade line.

However, the strange part of her upbringing is the ritual that her mother taught her to practice. In the dark of night, Etel's mother had her go out and dance naked under every full moon. Etel practiced this ritual from when she was a little girl to the present. Thanks to this though, she seems to believe she can't use her powers when clothed. And since her powers require some mental concentration, she keeps herself from using her own powers when she is dressed.
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