I hate you guys. You've given me insomnia from laying in bed mind spinning with stories. 

*sips coffee.

[[OOC note: Vena is a PPC, however has her own account due to being a reborn god]]

Bio: Born of a wealthy business magnate in Mumbai, India, Vena has lived a privileged life, accustomed to a large and multigenerational family. She has always been more interested in people than business, and as such her interests have always erred on the side of the arts, dance being at the foremost of her passions. Growing up she was especially close to her cousin, Ishya, who was something of the wild child to Vena's conservatism (and probably a terrible influence). It was Ishya's persuasions that pushed Vena to spread her wings beyond India, prompting her to study dance and performance art at the prestigious Julliard School in New York (father was not pleased).

Three years later she dropped out, when halfway through a routine her nostrils filled with the acrid stench of blood. Her stomach dropped, her balanced wavered, knees skinned on the hard floor. She remembers cupping her hands to her face, surprised to find that her nose was not in fact bleeding. That day Ishya stopped returning her calls.

By now Vena already knew her brain was wired differently, its senses muddled, and was aware too of her uncanny perceptions. So she did not doubt the dread she felt when the phone just kept ringing.

She returned home to her family, only to discover Ishya long gone on worldly travels, her trail cold. The flash of brief glimpses -- smells, sounds -- urged her toward to a path she didn't know how to follow, so Vena searched on blind instinct, but always found her head pointed back to the same place.

Moscow.

She moved to the city on vague assurances to her father that she would look to find a husband. Though she knows she is now in the right place, nothing yet has sparked a further epiphany. In the meanwhile she graces Moscow's socialite scene, networking amongst them for a hint of Ishya's whereabouts. She has made a life for herself, and is currently the girlfriend of Scion Marveet.

Reborn God: Lachesis/Lakhesis, Greek fate

Abilities: Vena will only channel if she is taught, and thus has no idea of her capabilities. 

As Lachesis reborn, Vena has an uncanny connection to the Pattern. She's gifted with an innate perception of people's threads, lending her intuitiveness in her interactions with others. In the main this ability is woken by touch, or at least enhanced by it. Sometimes, though rarer, it may work also with objects -- particularly when they are closely connected with a person.

She can direct the ability to a degree but has not discovered how to control the information relayed or its relevance or importance. The feedback blends with her synasthesia and so often requires translation. Past, present and future all fall under her remit, though she cannot distinguish between them. Most often what she discerns comes in relation to another -- that is to say she mostly picks up on connections between people.

She can generally sense where people she knows are in a room without having to look, and can usually intuit where to find others on a larger scale. This is most reliable when she has a direct connection with them.

Though technically a prophet, she has not formalised this skill beyond her talents listed above, and thus far has made no fortellings.

Description: Diminutive in height. Thick black hair, and chocolate dark eyes. Vena is beautiful, and knows it. She is attracted to power, likes to feel looked after, and enjoys the finer things in life. Her mannerisms are warm, sultry, and invite confidence. The interest is genuine; she enjoys getting to know people. Though what she chooses to do with the information is entirely discretionary.

She hadn't seen the nice lady doctor in a few weeks. At first, Mara thought it was some sort of holiday until the whispers began. Then the daily charge nurse disappeared. Finally, her favorite cook, the one that slipped her honey-swirled-butter for her bread rolls, stopped coming to work.

She was playing chess with an older man named Slamet when excitement rippled through the wing. 

The patients with-it enough to notice the disturbance moved across the floor, slippers padding swiftly, to huddle around the window in the door. A woman was screaming in the hallway. Hysterical new patients weren't uncommon.

But this was different. This was the cook. 

Daiyu's eyes flared wide.

A bigger crowd had gathered than Rowan had anticipated. Her reputation from New Orleans did not follow her across the pond, so, really, she was only expecting three or four people; if any. Voodoo didn’t have much of a scene in this part of the world, despite the Ascendancy and his promise of refuge for those that could wield magic. She had been sure she’d find someone here that knew the secrets of the Loa, of root working, of secret swamp magics. There wasn’t anyone like that in the First Dominance and if there was, they had to be hiding.

                Rowan had flown out here about a year ago, searching in vain for her twin brother, Aiden. It should have been way easier to find him. Punk-rock author movie stars weren’t exactly common and Aiden was the loudest one of them all. At least he had been. Everything changed since he had fallen into that coma; and not just for him. Rowan had changed and so had the rest of the family. Mother insisted that Father knew more than he had been letting on, but the crazy old coot refused to speak on the subject. Oh, he had hinted plenty of times that he knew exactly where Aiden had run off to. Mother had spent countless nights fighting with him about it, but eventually, he just started working late, not coming home until Mother was passed out on the couch with an empty bottle of Grey Goose nestled under her arms.

                Aiden had to have come to Russia. There was no other option for him. Rowan had spent a year and a half trying to convince him to leave the states with her and make a new life out here in the new heart of the World. He gave her the cold shoulder. He didn’t want to open up to her anymore. Did he actually blame her for how things went down with Kyle? Fucking bullshit that was. She didn’t tell Aiden to cheat. She didn’t tell him to stick with Kyle just to keep the band together! But no. He just had to go thinking with his dick. Men. All of them were the same… Well, most of them were… Her late husband had been different. The Saints had crafted him especially for her… And they also decided she wasn’t worthy of him… Fate was so fickle.

                With a huff, Rowan brought her thoughts to the present and looked around at the crowd assembled. There was a light whisper here and there. She wasn’t stupid. There were no true believers here. That wasn’t a bad thing. She wasn’t a believer when she attended her first ritual, but it only took one to convince her. That was partially the point behind tonight. If she couldn’t find anyone out there that ‘Rode with the Loas,’ then she would make believers out of the entire city if need be!

                It was time.

                Rowan threw both arms in the air, gesturing for silence. A hush fell over the crowd. Every eye turned to her as the band behind her struck their drums. Ten men beat out a steady tribal rhythm, four women accompanying them with rattles and tambourines. Rowan would have liked to have had more authentic instruments, but these would have to do. The band was hired, they weren’t practitioners as was tradition, but Rowan thought a few might be coming around. They had been on her payroll for the last six months if anything they wouldn’t be leaving her anytime soon.

                The vibrations from the drums seemed to amplify as Rowan lost herself to the rhythm. Her body began moving of its own accord with the music and that familiar light sprung up behind her shoulder. Papa Legba ready and waiting, as always. With a flick of her wrist, seventy-seven candles in varying colors sprung to life around the perimeter of her circle. A thick chalk line marked the boundaries of the large circle and no one was allowed to cross it’s threshold, lest Rowan command a Loa into the body of another, in which case the Loa would take control and enter the circle, adding to the magic being worked tonight.

                Rowan’s body dipped and writhed with the beats of the drums, somewhere a trumpet started playing. She didn’t hire a trumpet player, but she welcomed it. The sound seemed odd in contrast to the tribal beats that her band played, but it worked, and that was what Voodoo was about, using what worked. For instance, the herbs and powders that Rowan was now tossing about the circle. It seemed half hazard at first, but eventually, a symbol appeared in the herbs. It looked like a cross with other crosses, circles, and stars all mixed into its design. Rowan pulled a Cuban cigar from somewhere inside her bodice and lit the thing. She took five long puffs while dancing; then she pulled a flask out from her sleeve. Dark rum sloshed about the inside of the aluminum flash, Rowan taking a long swig and then spitting it out into the air. She spun in place, scattering the rum from the flask in all directions.

                Then she stopped, arms outstretched towards the heavens once more, and she yelled out in a loud and commanding voice, “Papa Legba! Papa Legba open the gate for me! Atibon Legba, louvre port-la pou mwen! Papa Legba! Now!”As the words left her mouth, the flames of the candles shot five feet into the air as if they were each a mini flame thrower. Rowan took five more puffs of the cigar, blowing it all out in a circle around her. The candles died back down to their normal, steady flickers. The crowd gasped and sank back a little, but no one left.

                Rowan felt the energy coursing through her, like a proud river, carrying her down into the womb of Erzulie Dantor. It was the most delectable feeling in existence, better than sex even! Rowan spun round and round, chanting loudly, “La Fanmi semble, eneo; la fanmi semble, non! E agoueto, ca hinde; na’pe hin’de o! La fanmi semble, eneo; na’pe hin’de Papa Loko Ati-sou!”

                She kept chanting those same lines over and over until a strong gust of wind picked up and rushed through the silent crowd. Voices seemed to be carried by the wind, voices most of these people hadn’t heard in years. The voices of their ancestors. Looks of shock passed on many faces of Rowan, but she didn’t notice. Papa Legba was inside of her, riding her soul so that he may touch the physical plane once more, and it was marvelous. The light coursed through her and she just kept dancing and chanting.

Hey all!

Aiden's sister, Rowan, is joining the story. I'll be making a post as her today. She will be holding a public voodoo ceremony in Moscow. The OOC intent behind it is just to introduce her to the story, but i also wanted to use it as an opp. for some of your characters to meet her without having to plan it out. It's open to all (as usual), so feel free to hop in.

Who knows? You might see a dead relative or two during the magic.

Character Name – Rowan Finnegan

Forum Account Name – Rowan_Finnegan

Age – 33

Origin – Dublin, Ireland

Occupation – Voodoo High Priestess and Rootworker, income is supplemented by the family trust fund put in place by her Father, Seamus Finnegan. (Previously a Middle School Teacher, quit to pursue a ‘higher purpose.’)

Psych Description – Warm, yet cautious. Rowan calculates every move she makes, never letting anyone think anything about her she didn’t personally intend. Driven by the desire to be valued, Rowan often finds herself playing ‘second-fiddle’ to other people’s schemes in her pursuit for acceptance (despite her need for individuality.) She almost always has a smile on her face, unless she’s having a bad day; nothing can make her smile then.

A very organized and calculating woman, Rowan has a tendency to act motherly towards those around her. She genuinely has a big heart, but sometimes these affections are just a performance; Rowan almost always has something up her sleeve. Very good memory, Rowan does her research and typically knows more about people than she lets on.

Very protective of her family and friends, the rest of the world can burn so long as her circle is taken care of. Is not above bribery to get things done. Has been known to work with all different types of people, except bigots. She hates bigots. Rowan forgives but never forgets.

In relationships, Rowan is loyal, loving, romantic, and submissive. She prefers monogamy and serious relationships, rarely indulging in one night stands.

Rowan is very earthy, enjoys long meditation sessions, and spends most of her free time in her garden or in the kitchen.
 

Phys Description – 5’10”, 150 lbs. Lean-muscular build. Irish and French ethnicity. Hazel eyes and dirty-blonde hair, lightly curled, long, and thick; worn loosely. Slim, arched eyebrows accompanied by angular, sharp facial features; very attractive. Dresses in monochromatic shades of black and multiple layers. Her style is often described as ‘American Witch.’ Often wears light makeup, preferring to highlight her natural beauty over heavily-painted illusions. Typically wears jewelry containing the remains of animals (feathers, teeth, claws, etc.) and natural materials (crystals, clay beads, leather cord, etc.)

Rowan’s preferred fragrance is a touch of amber and orange peel essential oil. High, yet raspy voice; shares the same strange Louisiana-British accent as her twin brother. Has a tattoo on the small of her lower back depicting the Veve of Papa Legba interlocked with the Veve of Erzulie, all in shades of black, red, and pink. Although her appearance looks slapped together and accidental, she takes great care in crafting the persona; she shares her brother’s outlook that appearance is everything.

Powers and Supernatural powers – Unnatural control over the elements Water and Earth. Both elements respond to her emotions and thoughts. Rain tends to manifest around her, even inside, although most would blame that on faulty plumbing.

She is a Prophet and can discern the future through vague dreams and her tarot cards. The information is rarely specific, however. Rowan is very good at figuring out the meaning of it all, but she is not always correct.
Animals follow her around and tend to listen to her if she makes a basic enough request that is not out of character for the animal. Cats especially tend to gather around Rowan.

Can heal minor injuries with her Hoodoo cures (gris-gris bags, candles, etc.) she is weaving when doing so but doesn’t realize it.

‘Keening’ – Death wail. Tied to an ability reputed to have originated with the Celtic Goddess, Brigid, Rowan discovered how to use the One Power to amplify one’s voice beyond bearable magnitude. Upon experiencing a miscarriage, Rowan accidentally gathered multiple threads of Air, Water, and Spirit to her, before releasing them in a loud shriek that killed all who listened to it. The Weave was accidental, but not forgotten; Rowan holds this knowledge in case she has cause to utilize it in the future. She has not been able to make it work again, however.

Block – Can only channel when performing Voodoo or Hoodoo/Rootwork

Current Strength Level – 18

Potential Strength Level – 38

Are you a reborn god – Brigid  
                    
Bio – Born in Dublin, Ireland during a violent thunderstorm on 08/01/2013 (Leo. Blood Type: O Negative) and raised in New Orleans, LA, USA. Rowan had an older twin brother, Aiden. Their father, Seamus Finnegan, came from a long line of architects and their Mother, Marie Brown, was the product of a torrid love affair between a vivacious French-man and a rebellious Irish-Catholic girl. Marie would grow up to become a very level-headed Judge, finding notoriety in the criminal justice system. The pair met at Trinity College in Dublin, during the year 2003; they quickly hit it off and married shortly after graduation. Aiden and Rowan were born a few years later and the small family moved to the States. Seamus bought a parcel of land in Metairie and began building a house for the family; although almost a decade later this modest dwelling would be expanded to five times its size, rivaling any of the older plantation mansions in the area.
 
When the twins were 7 years old, many disasters struck the globe. The United States was not spared these tragedies. As sad as it was, some good did come out of it; Seamus Finnegan’s construction company was kept busy during the years of the tragedies and the small family quickly saw their financial situation turn from dismal to golden (around this time is when the family home began its rapid expansion.) Seamus suddenly found himself taking on contracts with very wealthy individuals and even some high ranking government officials. With the new found wealth, the twins were quickly sent off to the finest schools money could buy and her young mind was allowed to flourish. Rowan was especially skilled with mathematics, history, and science; but she was often held back by her reputation. She was a troublesome child that often caused disturbances in the middle of her classes. Rowan would get a detention for every A+ she got on a test, and that happened very frequently.
 
By 18, Rowan had cleaned up her act after many threats from her Mother and Father. It was around this time that she began attending public Voodoo ceremonies in New Orleans. Her parents were worried once Rowan became a regular at these gatherings. What none of them knew was that during Rowan’s first ceremony something very strange happened.

As the high priestess invoked Papa Legba, and then Erzulie Dantor, a light appeared behind Rowan’s shoulder. That light poured into her as the drums were beating and the voodooists danced and writhed while the Loa rode their bodies. That light coursed through her and she felt the energies of the earth. Flowers sprung up all around the ceremony site, surprising everyone. Rowan knew it was because of the Voodoo and she knew she could wield it like no one else could. Every ceremony after that, something strange happened; whether it was flowers growing from the cement or the voices of dead relatives reverberating through the air.
 
Unfortunately for Rowan, after a few months, she developed a block. She didn’t know she had or even what a block was; but from then on, Rowan could only Channel when performing Voodoo rituals and later Hoodoo root working. She had not met another that could do the same since. Rumors started surrounding her as people noticed those strange things only happened when she attended the rituals. (A few years later, Rowan would begin a search for other Voodoo Practitioners that could do the same as her, but she would fail and give it up 14 months after starting the search.)
 
Before her 19th birthday, she was initiated into the religion and began studying under the local Voodoo Queen, Mama Jazmine. The older woman taught Rowan everything she could, and even started teaching her Hoodoo (American Folk Magic, many often confuse it with the Voodoo religion) and imparted upon her a love for gardening. After her apprenticeship was up, Rowan moved north to attend the University of Chicago; there she attained a degree for teaching.
 
After graduation, Rowan moved back to her family’s manor in Metairie. Her mother, Marie Finnegan, used a few connections to secure Rowan a position at one of the local schools. The first few years in the position went off relatively easy, but it wasn’t long before Rowan began to get bored with the daily monotony. She began practicing Voodoo again, which she had all but forgotten about once she enrolled in college. There was something about it that was calling her back again. She began having strange dreams and nightmares that often woke her in the middle of the night, sweaty and frightened.
 
After a time Rowan began to think she was psychic. As a Voodoo priestess in New Orleans, she was expected to perform divination, any form really. Rowan preferred Tarot cards. It was hard not to love the classics. She hadn’t touched the cards often, no one ever wanted a reading from her when she was younger. After the dreams started up, she sought out answers in her cards. Events would be spelled out to her in the cards and those events always unfolded within the week. It was due to her cards that her twin, Aiden, even thought of starting his punk band, Blarney Stoned; and that had launched him into the realm of superstars. Once word got out about that, countless citizens and tourists flocked to the Finnegan Manor, seeking Rowan and her famed cards.
 
Rowan left New Orleans for a time, and her steady career as a middle school teacher, going to her twin brother once his band split up. The band had split because Aiden was cheating on his boyfriend, the drummer of the band. Although he didn’t show it, Aiden was a wreck, and if he lost his best friend and boyfriend, Kyle, then Rowan knew she was the only person in the world that could comfort him. They spent the summer touring the Mediterranean on Aiden’s yacht. During that time, Rowan helped steer Aiden down a new path that ensured continuing success.
 
She returned to Louisianna the following October and met a man shortly after. His name was Barney Smith, a poet from California that had come to the South to find himself. It was love at first sight between the pair and he proclaimed Rowan his muse. They married a year later and Rowan found herself with child. Two months before her due date, Barney and Rowan found themselves hospitalized after a drunk driver slammed into their car. Barney passed away the day after the accident and Rowan’s suffered a miscarriage. Overcome with grief, Rowan spontaneously Channeled and the resulting weave killed almost everyone on her hospital floor. The official cause was said to be a ‘gas leak,’ the news proclaiming it a freak accident.
 
By 30, Rowan found more heartache as her twin brother fell into a coma. The family grew closer than they ever had before, rushing to Aiden’s side. Rowan slept at the hospital more often than not. After losing her husband and unborn child, she worried that she might lose the only other person in the world that was important to her. Then there was the Channeling to deal with. She knew that’s what it was. The Ascendancy had talked all about it and the Sickness and the Atharim. She didn’t know what to do about it. The accident at the hospital was just that. An accident. She did not want to touch the magic, she couldn’t go through something like that alone. If Aiden didn’t pull through, Rowan might have ended her own life.

More dreams started coming to her, like the ones she experienced years ago. Rowan hadn’t touched her cards in months, not since her husband passed. Perhaps the two were connected. She picked them up again, usually reading them to kill time while she waited around in Aiden’s private hospital room. They told her many things. Aiden would pull through, he had a great destiny and a great past, she would find love again, she also had a great destiny, they had to go to Russia. Everything would be okay if they went to Russia… If they didn’t… Well, she never liked the Tower card. That one kept popping up every time she tried to figure out what would happen if they stayed in the states.

Aiden woke up on Christmas day of 2044, and the entire family had been gathered in his room. It was all too perfect, almost like a movie. There were many tears and laughter that day. Aiden was okay and all was right in the world.

Rowan spent the next year trying to convince Aiden to leave the states with her and relocate to Russia. He listened patiently as she divulged everything the cards had told her. He smiled and nodded, but didn’t believe her. Not completely. He went on to make his failure or a movie and ignored all of her advice. She chased the man all over the country as he promoted the movie, but he still wouldn’t listen. Then he became a recluse and she was turned away at the door to his mansion day after day. Finally, one day she came, determined to shove past the butler and make her brother see some sense; but that day, she arrived and had been admitted.

She was full of joy and relief until she learned that Aiden had fled the country.

“That little fucker is going to Russia. I just know it!” Rowan would exclaim to the butler before rushing back home to pack her suitcase. She was in Moscow the following day, but she found new trouble. No one knew where Aiden Finnegan was, or if he even was in the city. Her cards said he was though. Her cards and her dreams said he was close by… She just couldn’t pin down where exactly… And so she took off into the city, looking for answers, and more importantly, Aiden.

Aiden sat in the back seat of his limo, which was parked on a quiet city street. The Red Pit’s neon lights cascaded down onto the sleek black car, giving it a look like someone splashed bright paint all over it. The restaurant specialized in American BBQ, southern BBQ to be specific. It was the closest thing he could find out here that remotely resembled Cajun and Creole cooking. They didn’t use the ‘holy trinity’ in their recipes, but Aiden could live without that. He had never been big on the celery anyway.

                The last few hours were a blur to him now. As soon as Sage had signed off from their VR meeting, Aiden had rushed about the house in a mad dash to pack his bags and get Lasher all set up for the trip. The dog was currently sitting next to Aiden, head sticking out of the window, his drooling face not knowing which way to look as a few locals made their way down the city sidewalks. Lasher was very well behaved, he never barked at anyone unless Aiden willed it. The training lessons weren’t cheap, but he was very thankful for them in the end.

                The food was already ordered and hopefully bagged up, just waiting to be grabbed by Aiden. Sage was nowhere to be seen, yet. Aiden was starting to get nervous. What if the man bailed on him? It wouldn’t be the first time Aiden had been stood up. If it happened again… well, sitting here in a stretch limo had a way of taking away any sting that might come with rejection. Living far away from here would help too; Aiden didn’t often come into Moscow, so there wouldn’t be any risk in running into Sage after a possible rejection. That would be too embarrassing.

                Spending a year or two in a coma had a funny way of keeping you out of the loop. On the ride from Suzdal, Aiden had watched the videos Sage supplied of Nox training. Aiden had to watch it over and over to really believe any of it. The magic in the video could have been faked. But then there were the stories about the Ascended and the Sickness, things Aiden knew about but really never paid attention to despite moving to the area. It’s what had sparked the ideas for this new novel, but Aiden had gone in a completely different direction with his research. After that first spark, he dove right into reading about different myths and legends, not once looking back at what the Ascended was saying on the world stage.

                It was much worse than Aiden feared. The Atharim? Aiden had heard nothing about them until today. He had been excited to learn how to use magic, but if there were those out there that would kill you for doing so… It was like the Salem Witchcraft Trials all over again! Perhaps this really was all a bad idea. A fireball manifested above the car as Aiden felt fear rise up in his gut. He fought it back down and the flame winked out. Aiden scrambled around in his seat, trying to see if anyone walking by noticed.

                “Safe… I think… An assassin wouldn’t be obvious about anything, though… Oh, Sweet Mother, what have I gotten myself into?” Aiden said to himself.

                He almost told the driver to turn back and go home, but then Aiden remembered what Sage had said about the Sickness… Aiden could die either way. At least if he stuck around he could see Sage again and he was starting to like looking at the man.

Greetings, all.

As forewarned, we are temporarily disabling posting rights on the forums for all members while we work on the site.

Our goal is to house all of our main site, forums, chat and wiki under the umbrella of TheFirstAge.org.

To find the forums after the upgrades occur, please go back to The First Age website.

You can also hop into our chat room (which should remain open during this process) during this time if you have questions.

We hope this will be only for a short duration today, but one never knows when hiccups may occur.

I am incredibly excited about this. I always dreamed of having a fully integrated site all under our umbrella web page. This will do great things for any future growth as well.

Once things are up and running, additional details about the new forum functionalities, log in process, and etc, will be posted. So look out for additional information forthcoming.

Thanks all!

We owe Nox lots of praise, adoration, and chocolate.

-Asc

I'm not sure if we normally do this around here, but...

Just wanted to formally say hello to everyone (I've talked with a few of you) and introduce myself. The name is Odd or Aiden or Wally or OddPositions or whatever you want to call me. One of those is my real name.

I roleplay with Nox (and the other newcomer Vicktor Lih!) over at Dragonmount and they referred me here. I'm very glad I joined up! You all have been incredibly welcoming and helpful since I signed up. I love the story, characters, and worldbuilding I've read so far.

I hope to make a positive contribution around here. Can't wait to start crafting more stories with you all! <3