Demon Realm

May 2017 Featured RPG

Ellen Blackburn

No one is truly dead until they are forgotten. I try to remember.
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Marinko OOC Information

Status
Created
Threads
Posts
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Offline
01-02-2018
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OOC account: Marinko

PM me on Discord if you are interested in a thread! Happy to play with anyone!

Character Information

Character Type
Face Claim
Human with Civil Demon
Human Pronouns
Human Age
Demon Pronouns
Demon Age
Female
19
Male
403
Faction
Profession
Legion
Crime Scene Cleaner, Medical Examiner in training

Character Summary

A young girl whose positivity and dedication shine through the tragic past that plagues her. In spite of her physical weakness, she makes every effort to fulfill her duties as a crime scene cleaner for the Legion, primarily working in Ghost Town but frequently making trips to other precincts when they need a hand. She's a top tier necromancer with a secondary control over blood, making her ideal for the disposal of waste that comes from violent incidents. She has aspirations of becoming a medical examiner or a mortician, and is currently studying hard at a university to get her undergrad in pathology.
Ascensions
Dominions
The High Priestess Tier 1. Ascension to "THE WHITE ELEPHANT"
The elephant never forgets. The white elephant deals with problems by sometimes well-worn paths of conventional wisdom. Education, the tramping of known avenues of understanding, are the most important thing to the white elephant. Book smart but methodical, they rarely innovate, or turn creative corners.
You feel new possibilities within you. You can now experience improved concentration, memory and academic skill. The dominions paper, animation, shadow, and sound are now augmented. Your character may show unusual command of those dominions for their mastery.
Dominion 1
Telekinesis
Mastery: Lesser Minor
The ability to manipulate objects and others at will with the mind.
Power Based: The more inanimate objects you can move at once.

Dominion 2
Blood
Mastery: Proficient Major
The ability to slow, speed, reverse, or stop the flow of blood in, to, or from a living body.
Power Based: The more blood you can manipulate at once.

Dominion 3
Necromancy
Mastery: Major
The reanimation of the dead. Anything living that has since died can be reanimated, depending on how strong the dominion is, how long the thing has been dead, and how large it is. The thing reanimated cannot truly think, but can follow orders, sometimes even after the necromancer has died. Necromancy has limits: the reanimated thing will only stay reanimated for a set length of time depending on the mastery level.
Control Based: Deceased life forms stay reanimated for longer.

Dominion 4
Air
Mastery: Minor
The ability to manipulate wind, fog, mist, and air. This does not allow the user to fly on their own, but may allow the user to control sails of a ship, or kite-like devices.
Control Based: The more variations upon wind you can create and manipulate (i.e. fog, mist,)

Dominion 5
Combustion
Mastery: Lesser Minor
The ability to create explosions, and the power to create bombs of various types from thin air.
Power Based: Larger and more destructive explosions.

Dominon 6
Conjure
Mastery: Lesser
The ability to conjure and control spirits. Spirits are weaker than demons; they cannot think on their own, cannot interact with the physical world at lesser mastery levels, and are unable to stay in the physical realm for long periods of time.
Control Based: The more control you have over spirits (such as telling them what to do or how long they can ‘survive’ in the physical realm), but the less of them you can conjure at once. As your mastery grows, the length of time they can stay will increase.

Character In-Depth

Liches, Charon, Shinigami, Valkyrie. Death spirits, they’ve gone by many names, and are believed to be some of the oldest of demons, as death has festered since the beginning of life. The Blackburn family know them all too well, an infamous family line haunted by the skull faced spectors, born only with demons who sup on the energy that surrounds death: grief and pain. Their stark white hair is said to be an omen of the harsh winters that would wipe out towns during archaic history, or a connection the porcelain color of bone.

Despite their haunting reputation, the modern Blackburn family could not in reality have been any more contrary to the family’s renown. Emily Blackburn was a bereavement counsellor with a home practice. She helped hundreds of people a year cope with the harsh loss of losing their loved ones, friends, and coworkers. She helped them heal, helped them return to a state of normalcy and learn to live in the wake of grief. Her loving husband, Marcus Blackburn, was an ICU nurse, spending long days and harsh nights doing everything he could to save people from dying and breath life back into their fading bodies.

Then there was little Ellen. A beautiful baby girl who, despite born a bit frail and premature, was always so bright and full of life, always smiling up at her parents, an uncharacteristically quiet baby who grew up into a sweet young girl mature beyond her years. Generous, courteous, and kind to a fault, Ellen was the pride of the family. She loved helping their neighbours, visiting her grandparents, and playing with other kids. Her work in school was beyond reproach, a diligent student whose curiosity fueled a natural inclination towards academics. She loved science and history more than anything. Biology fascinated her, and by age 7 she had decided she wanted to be a doctor just like daddy. At recess she wasn’t exactly the most sought after soul. She was weak, cried easily, and hadn’t an athletic bone in her body, so schoolyard games were rarely something she partook in. Despite this, she had a sizeable friend group of fellow reserved kids who spent recess trading pokemon cards or talking about cartoons instead. Ellen was well liked by most, but she was not immune from bullying. Many kids made fun of her love of school, her wimpy condition, and her weird white hair. It was from these comments, like many kids, she developed a bit of a self image complex. It was nothing so severe as to be crippling, but she developed a habit of self critique and lack of confidence that would follow her into her later years.

At home Ellen would enjoy reading books in her room, exploring the garden, and playing with her mother between her counselling sessions. That was likely the most bizarre aspect of her childhood. In and out of the house, all day, nearly every day. People stricken by grief, wanting to die, weeping for their lost loved ones. It was the kind of exposure to the topic most children wouldn’t be privy to until much older. Of course, Ellen had a death demon with her as well, but it rarely showed itself, and her mother’s decision to maintain a home practice was likely a clever means to feed Ellen’s demon the energy it needed without subjecting her daughter to more horrific encounters with death.

However, no parent, no matter how careful, caring, and protective, cand protect their child from unseen tragedy. She had just turned 12 on the 4th of November, now in the 7th grade and learning what it meant to be an adolescent. It was a difficult and troubling time for all kids, but for Ellen, it would turn into a catastrophic time, where her entire life was irrevocably changed.

The family was driving home from a nice dinner together. It was rare her father had time off at hours conducive to a nice family outing, so it felt like a special occasion. They had unfortunately become trapped in an unrelenting blizzard whilst returning from the city district to the suburbs where they lived. The roads were icy, visibility was poor, and the sun had already been engulfed by night. What happened next seemed like the sort of thing everyone knew could happen in such conditions, but no one themselves ever actually experienced. While taking a hard corner her father misjudged the sharp decline it curved into, prompting the car to slide from the road and bulldoze a path down a hill in the ditch, spin a full 360, flip onto its side as he desperately slammed on the brakes and tried to steer back towards the road, before slamming into an old weathered oak with a horrifying crunching and crashing.

Ellen awoke from the incident with blurry eyes and a stabbing pain in her lower back. It hurt like nothing she had felt before, not like the time she broke her arm or split her chin, though similar pains to those ravaged the rest of her body. Everything hurt, except her legs. She looked down, one was sliced open on a large shard of glass. Why didn’t it hurt? Why didn’t they hurt? After wailing and screaming for her parents for several minutes to hear no response, she realized the dire situation she was in. It was this moment that her demon first began to materialize itself. A wiry looming figure in fantastic black clothes, beneath a metallic skeleton engraved with floral patterns, like a suit of armor framed over bone, his skeletal face frozen in a permanent smile. It was he who took the opportunity to teach her use of magic. Her control of blood allowed her to clot her wounds, to keep her from bleeding out or losing consciousness. Next were her parents, the first two corpses she reanimated in her life. Their broken forms clawing out of the car and gently pulling her own mangled body from the back seat. She tried to speak with them, tried to ask if they were okay, what they should do, if they were going to live or die? She had not realized what necromancy had truly meant until after she had been rescued. They were already dead, and she could not save them. Puppeting her parents bodies, they carried her to the side of the road where Ellen called 911 and waited, sobbing and in pain, for the flashing red lights and blaring sirens to carry her away from it all.

She woke up next in the stark clinical bedroom of the ICU, sewn up, stitched, bandaged, and in braces, with all kinds of tubes snaking across her arms. The skeletal face of her demon lingered just above her, carefully watching for her to awake, though at first sight she wondered if he was there to take her to the world beyond. Her grandfather was clutching her other hand, her only other living relative in the area, one she had visited frequently in her youth but had not last seen since grandma’s funeral. The doctors and her grandfather filled her in on the details in the coming days. Her parents hadn’t survived the crash, and she had suffered a severe spinal injury that meant she would never walk again, and would have to stay in hospital for several months while she recovered.

She couldn’t believe it was all real at first, it seemed to happen so quickly, and things like that never happened to her family. It was too much for her, but her legs really couldn’t move, it was undeniable. She wept for days, refused to see anyone, just laid in bed sobbing and still while doctors tried to do whatever they could to ease her pain and help her recover. The only one who stayed with her was him. The demon, with his hollow eyes and twisted iron smile. He introduced himself as Menahem, and offered many interesting philosophies on death and words that did help Ellen confront the feelings that dwelled within her. He also told stories of his life before being with her, of the renaissance period he began his own existence in. Though she was still in pain, upset, and grieving, these things were a great help. A preoccupation, an exercise in exploring grief. Menahem was a kind soul, with a soft voice and gentle sensations. Perhaps it was the period he grew up in, or perhaps it was her own influence on him.

The comings months of recovery were hard and painful. She went through several surgeries, became familiar with all manner of medical procedure, equipment, and personnel. She went through extensive physiotherapy to try and help with her legs, as well as aid in the recovery of other heavily damaged areas like her shoulder and wrist. During this time her grandfather, her mother’s family friend Jesse, who Ellen had always known as aunt Jess, and several of her friends from school made visits. Ellen also met with a grief counsellor and child psychologist every so often to make sure she was progressing mentally as well.

She made a strong effort to keep up with school in hospital as well, not wanting to fall behind her classmates, she was given special exemptions and allowed to move on to the 8th grade mostly unaffected. She returned to school in fall, now in a wheelchair, which prompted much talk from her classmates, both supportive and insulting. Life was harder, but she slowly adapted to her new challenges. She lived with her grandfather now, who was retired. Her parents had left enough money coupled with her grandfather’s savings that they were able to live comfortably. During these years, it seemed Menahem was able to live off her own grief and sadness at the loss of her parents, a subject she struggled to get over for years and years, right up until the end of highschool.

By that point, she was considering what to do with her life. Whether she wanted to pursue her childhood dream of becoming a doctor, or if she had other plans. She needed a job dealing with the deceased, it was a given, and Menahem had mentioned feeling hungrier and hungrier as graduation approached. She did some research, spoke to her guidance counselling staff, and eventually an ingenious idea came up from one of her counsellors. She was introduced to the head of the Ghost Town Legion precinct, where her skills and particular dominion powers would prove a valuable asset to the department as a Biorecovery Technician, a crime scene cleaner. She could easily handle the work of several technicians at a time, saving the department significant resource costs. Seeing the opportunity as a good entry level position for someone who needed to be close to death, and wanting to be helpful to the community in assisting the police and law enforcement services, it seemed like a good match. She went through biorecovery training after graduating high school, and began work immediately. Whilst doing so she began saving up money to put herself into college, hoping to pursue possible future careers as a medical examiner.

She proved herself an amicable and effective employee of the Legion, and was put in contact with several other precincts should they need help with any clean up jobs. Ellen had managed to rebuild her life after the accident, she wasn’t going to be a burden, and she wasn’t going to wallow in the loss of her parents forever. They wouldn’t ever want her to do that, and she believed they’d be proud of her for picking herself up and making herself useful to her community.

Demon Information



Menahem: The Comforter, The Consoler

A fairly young death spirit, as far as demons are concerned. Menahem was born in the renaissance period, to a skilled mortician, philosopher, and family man of the time who taught the demon the considerations of the day and the grace and tact that comes with dealing with death. It was rare for humans to shape demons and not the other way around, but the men of that day were all quite rich with intellect.

Menahem has lived among his fellow death demons in the Blackburn line for 400 years. Ellen is his most recent host, a cute young girl whose strife has only made her stronger. He seems himself as a mentor for the girl, and feels a parental responsibility for her care in these trying times. The two get along quite well, an uncharacteristic amicability between demon and host.

Menahem often takes physical form, walking behind Ellen, pushing her wheelchair, and keeping vigilant eye over her. He speaks but his iron jaw never moves, instead his voice a disembodied echo. He's quite resilient, a living suit of armor not prone to destruction or ruin. Though it has only happened once due to misunderstanding, he does wield a vicious looking scythe, and is primed to use it at any sign of hostility.