Fantasy ✩ Bloodlines United ✩

[vada]

[ Closed RP between vada & JyoMonty ]

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Spoiler: Aric

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name: Aric

race: demigod (son of Nyx)
age: 25
hair: black, shoulder length
eyes: silver

persona:
intj + scorpio + lawful neutral
brooding + lonely + determined + protective + strategic + reserved + resourceful + complex

abilities:
Being the son of Nyx, Aric has the ability to manipulate shadows. This power allows him to create constructs out of shadows, such as weapons or barriers, and move swiftly between shadows to evade enemies or travel quickly

history:
Aric was born into a world where the divine realm, Sanctum, was a place of harmony and light, governed by the benevolent Bright-hearts. As a demigod, he was the offspring of a union between a Bright-heart and a mortal, granting him unique abilities inherited from his divine parent, Nyx, the Greek goddess of the night. From a young age, Aric trained under the guidance of his mentor, a seasoned Bright-heart, learning to harness his powers to manipulate shadows.

However, tragedy struck when Aric's mentor fell in battle against the Vainities, the renegade gods who sought to exploit humanity for their own gain. The loss of his mentor left Aric adrift, his sense of purpose shattered. He wandered the Earth, disillusioned and haunted by the memories of his past failures.

It is during this aimless journey that Aric encounters a teenager with a rare and powerful ability to create, a power typically reserved for Bright-hearts. Seeing the potential in this young human, Aric feels a spark of hope reignite within him. He sees an opportunity to make amends for his past mistakes and to protect this individual from the looming threat of the Vainities.​

The city was a labyrinth of shadows, its towering buildings casting long, darkened alleys that twisted and turned like serpents in the night. Aric, cloaked in the darkness, moved with silent purpose, his eyes scanning the dimly lit streets with a sense of weary vigilance.

As he walked, the echoes of his footsteps reverberated off the concrete walls, a lonely cadence in the stillness of the night. Memories of Sanctum, his lost mentor, and the war with the Vainities haunted his every step, weighing heavy on his heart.

Suddenly, a faint sound caught Aric's attention - a muffled cry, barely audible over the distant hum of the city. Intrigued, he followed the sound, his instincts guiding him towards a narrow alley bathed in darkness.

As he approached, the scene unfolded before him - a group of hooded figures surrounded a lone figure, backed against a wall, fear evident in their wide eyes. Without hesitation, Aric stepped into the alley, his presence shrouded in shadows.

"Leave them alone," Aric's voice was low and commanding, cutting through the tense silence. The hooded figures turned, startled by his sudden appearance, but their surprise quickly turned to malice as they recognized the demigod standing before them.

"Who's this?" one of the figures sneered, stepping forward with a menacing glare. "Another Bright-heart come to protect the weak?"

Aric's gaze was steely as he faced the group, his hand instinctively reaching for the shadows at his command. "I am no Bright-heart," he said, his voice tinged with a hint of sorrow. "But I will not stand idly by while you prey on the innocent."

With a swift motion, Aric summoned the shadows to his side, shaping them into a blade that gleamed with an otherworldly light. The hooded figures hesitated, unsure of their next move as they faced the formidable demigod before them.

​

 

[JyoMonty]

Spoiler

name: Demetri Adams
race: African American
age: 18
hair: black
eyes: brown

persona:
infp + Capricorn + Neutral good
calm + introverted + humble

abilities:
Unknown to him, he has the power to create objects using the energy around him.

history:
Born and raised with Beamer City, Demetri has always been an introspective but curious child. After his mother's (Carol's) death, his father, Quentin, took a job
at the Central Bureau and did the best he could to take care of his only child, Demetri.

Demetri heard about the Central Bureau, but all he knew was that it existed for many years. Centuries even. All that truly mattered to him was that he and his father
could live in peace. Unfortunately, that peace was very short lived.

One day, Quentin was arrested for tampering with official files. In any other organization, it would be no more than a slap on the wrist. However, that's not how the Central Bureau works.
Any action against the organization is an immediate 10-year sentence. But Demetri knew his father. He was a big advocate of being the model citizen and being good to all. If his father was arrested, he was either framed or had a very good reason for his actions. In the meantime, Demetri had to find another place to live.

Quentin's best friend, Trey, took him in but that came with a host of problems. The main problems were twofold. Trey never trusting Quentin with keys and Trey would often come home late. This meant Quentin had to roam of Beamer City until close to midnight on most nights.

During those nights, he tried his best to avoid the bandits and thieves that roamed the city. Yet there were days he barely survived with several deep cuts and bruises.
Nevertheless, he tried to make the most of those nights. He hung around the Central Bureau to get any information he could about the company. He'd also would leave letters for his dad at the prison yard since communication via letters are the only way he's allowed to see him.

One day, he will find out what really caused his father's imprisonment and make sure he's released. These bad days won't last always. Not if he has anything to say about it.

To be bullied into a corner once again. To think this is just another night for him. Fear latched on to him tightly nevertheless. He was scared knowing how this usually ends. They beat him senseless. If any of them had a knife, he'd have his fair share of cuts. The little money he carried would be stolen from his pockets as he lay half-dead on the ground. That's how this usually went.

Underneath his hoodie, he could still feel each of the scars he bore from the many nights before. Old ones would heal as new ones would take residence on his body. This nightly ritual was getting old but he couldn't do much. He had no fighting experience. No training in self-defense. He had quick feet but that was about it.

As the hoodlums drew nearer, he wondered if he could try darting past them. There were four of them. Two were wide and stocky. They probably couldn't run fast. The other two were tall and lanky. They might pose a problem.

With his back against the wall, he moved slightly to the right, and pain struck him immediately. He tried to muffle his cry as he felt his cut on his arm open up. Crap. He thought he got that stitched up tighter than this!

"Shut this kid up, will ya?" One of them said. "He'll have all of Beamer City looking at us."

One of the others brandished a knife from his pocket and closed in. Demetri's eyes went wide. He had to run. Had to-

"Leave them alone," A voice interrupted. It was low and commanding, cutting through the tense silence. The hooded figures turned, startled by his sudden appearance, but their surprise quickly turned to malice as they recognized the one standing before them.

"Who's this?" one of the figures sneered, stepping forward with a menacing glare. "Another Bright-heart come to protect the weak?"

Bright-heart? Weren't they beings of legend? And how did these guys recognize him?

The man's gaze was steely as he faced the group, his hand instinctively reaching for the shadows at his command. "I am no Bright-heart," he said, his voice tinged with a hint of sorrow. "But I will not stand idly by while you prey on the innocent."

With a swift motion, he summoned the shadows to his side, shaping them into a blade that gleamed with an otherworldly light. The hooded figures hesitated, unsure of their next move as they faced the formidable opponent before them.

Demetri's eyes were glued to the man's blade. Such awe and terror. He was glad this one was trying to protect him, but...darn it! He hated that he was so helpless! Why couldn't he make something like that? At least that would give him a fighting chance. He closed his eyes and bit his lip. This felt all pointless. He was no step closer to proving his father's innocence. Nor did he fare any better in finding out about Central Bereau's true nature. He was in an alley about to be saved by a so-called Bright-heart. And then what?

Anger coursed through him and he was about to run, but stopped the moment he saw his feet. They were glowing? Actually, his whole body was glowing. He then looked at the newcomer.
"Hey, Bright-heart! Are...what are you doing to me?"