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the    secret    of    the here    Sooner or later the mood will strikes, the balance will loose control and the muses will stop playing on top of the cord as if there was nothing bellow the air to be afraid from. Before the flame of wisdom had seeing this and could not cease to advise my self for everything I had seeing in her eyes, the death and changes. Upon here we are only Angelinas. As the faded flames vanished creating new ones above the Olympian Plate upon its Greek Pillar bellow my chest, as have admired steps away in such fires, had even step further back with a solemn power and particular wet & rainy eyes. As I had turned and walked through the open halls towards the hall of music, admired the Muse Terpsichore who was dancing in a thick rogue, replacing me movements of sheer tears of gratefulness, just as her pending toes, amused me with the centerlines we meditated with.       l whom raise every morning must shower down over the times of the day light, had come to show the people that we Gods, here in Olympus, have nothing to hide. Basically, we had nothing, we had no walls, we had no servants, we was just alone by our own devices playing with each other. The muses seem to look down at people and be hiding, but we just did not want to share this secret of having merely nothing. We wished to make it look very special in the whole of our arts and crafts.      Zeus who sees everything and knows everything left me tender after touching me with the natures of the universal matrix, in his atmospheric space his warning voices had no names but thunder. I would seat for hours in the thrown that my son Hephaestus made for me, punished, unable to move, this electrifier chair, my son's gift so I could feel from so much tensions to withhold. After saving him from Zeus, in the same way my mother did to him. My angel child, at least you are alive and how monstrous you're with technology, of Intelligent machinery governing more than your spacey dad. A New Man whom again would Null his mom, the woman who saved him and brought him. And he thought I would power trip over his dark destiny. Out an unspoken mystery, one Myth he would have to reach out in his way back to Olympus. This are the teachings of Hera. The Muses and Graces danced, shacking them heads and pelvis for one may become his wife. Far long has pass the treachery of Venus and Mars.      Wile Zeus shape/shifted in to a variant of forms to his creation, Gods and even mortal forms to be closer and talk in such way to one another too, his love was not mine, so I had transform too in all the versions that polarised him or surrounded when he reached down. This changed me in multiple ways where I had to let go of so much knowledge and bondings, even the territories of mine, such as Troy. I could fly, and dive into the secrets of the air, the sun and stars. He would feel me navigating with the instinct of the feminine out my body.     _"Let me go, let me aid triumph, Zeus. Let me dance with my children in my garden, let me be. I'm not the madden woman your scribes had depict! I had been touched by you, by God, I had bring form, yet I'm free In my natures bond as a creator too."      My children and his children and the children of their children laughed with no replacements, their original plays as they coveted the house with out a roof out the joy of heaven, here in Olympus, remind me that ruling and taking care was not only the only command in my hands. I wished them free and near me, I wished they never touched the earth, either the deep waters of funky creatures. We Gods form a very exclusive and far away entity. In their radiant faces had wished to only breath in this Olympic high.      Some days, as we would reach out the Pantheon and get tired of monitoring the bellow, to wish them virtues to grow and enlighten them path towards us as within them, now we could not come down really. And, I would often take the hand, of the son of Venus, Eros, who was adopted out his original mother Pita Goddess of Poverty and Wisdom. Honored to be raised with the High Hierarchy. In this special days, I would walk Eros/Cupid the childlike angel whom transforms in a Beast down the beach and showed him where he truly came from. In this way, he brings you down to the deepths of love, if you'd ever got to know what being in true love is by the power of his arrows. Could you persist from falling in love and see his mounstruos form, it's in your deepest to find enlighten vision beyond reason. In this form we could descend aware to aid those and transcend.      We had a state of mind and a state of affairs, wide and quite difficult to get, it was so simple, yet discrete, we had nothing much really. We had nothing but a peace of mind. Organised, understanding and respectful for each's place. We had like no more riches, nor material, we had actually the same sky Zeus provided us, and the same sunshine, the same nature, the same brick and stone. _"What did we have to give? What did we have to be taken? If the 3 Faiths have left my destine."      Clio the Muse scriber consolidated by her pen, and much of the times with suggestion broad man by her side to dig the marble stone and imprint there too the names and the form of arts in history for the famed, as we had tendency. At this Hephaestus broad attention into me, _"Cronus was trying to escape Hell/Tartarus out the punishment he has to pay." I had seeing Ares with his Father Zeus entering the War Room with Athena, Clio out her sacred text provided me a secretarial and administration duty to have me remembered for ever, and exclaimed out her own cultural development.     The office has intrigued me with the Muse Calliope of Epic Poetry that, this is not a lyric amusement. The Muse of Tragedy, Melpomene legitimates in this story to be coming onward, to whom a sweet voice has, said. "Me and my sisters will have to stop working with you, now it will be very off if you continue to walk with Eros alone, when Cronus threatens this white house with war."       It was not that I was very distinguished as they seemed to judge me, as dis-a-touched from the dark matters sprouting free from Hades, it's because of my father Cronus the famous agony of 'paying with time' and how the hells formed to quantise it's boundaries, by segments, frames, measures, impenetrable jails build by the Iron of Hades for each a sequence. The 13n sister muses formed by her mother River Nymph of Memory, for each form of amusement art is a carrier of information. Nothing of mine to fight with nor contradict. As a former Queen onto them had reflect back _"It is truth, a war is inside the Underworld freeing out, Zeus had seeing it coming long time ago. Will you wish to Inspire the Underworld? The World it self, what better place than here to welcome my father Cronus after a cycle of eternity. My true fear is for Cerberus, the dog and his three mouthed heads to be unleashed from the gates of Hell. Keep the guardian frightening from the boundaries, for the souls to the souls and that is immortal to the immortal, for those whom live let them live."      The apprentices of the muses wished to be like them as they grow out their girly ways, wishing to never forget the fresh divinity that in their pureness had exist.       The Muses who are there Inspiring the events to the blinded eyes of man, had suggestion with me, now they knew well that as a great Inspiration in their powerhouse shall never be revealed nude onto them Males Ambitions, now Violence would only urge with destructions, just as the enraged conquered, death and new births, a waste of values and damaged reputations for all the possessions we had an investment on them, the Cannibal male world of Cronus had end with it's titan companies to prove who eats others. Zeus had a paradise waiting for his dad only he knows how this statement and agreement will come.  "I only care for the female ways, I'm just your reflection and like you, the love and will of Zeus."    Here and Now Athena followed me with Nike out this gardens into the Greek baths.      They held them robes down as mine fallen down too in compass providing the act a naked truth to enter the cascading showers and later on a room of vapour. We breath the hit of oxygen, they two in this secrecy singed with me this information of value as I with them, we resembled our states of nothingness to the world, rubbing our bodies with scent oils, specially for our King, the Lord with soothing hands whom gently would vanished away everything out our healthy and rich skins whom hold it self, paradise.  

Inside the sheltered left corner, an embedded window exploited a pinpoint aimed-view at the old barn. Throughout the thorough week before this afternoon's earlier final touch, Jason's ominous (secretive) task is finished. Just an important project amid a dozen projects Jason's been atom about getting done, lately - setting aside specific added odd hours in at the beginning of each dawn and later on in the final hour of each night Jason isolated himself in the second barn that is closer to the St. James River's riverbank to the east. Preoccupied lately, Jason has been to wrap the unknown - spontaneous and unpredictable surprise for his unrestrictedly, beautiful wife Kit-Kat. Usually, Jason literally, drowns his gorgeous wife in just about anything, to acknowledge her or for her to feel as though she is the core center of his world - or as he'd say, 'His Queen'. Tonight though represented a different kind of surprise, he literally went all out. It's the smallest things in life, we make the bigger things in life, because they mean equally as much to the ones we care about and those are also the points we want to make happen for them - that is Jason's entire goal for his wife to provide limitless happiness and acknowledge shared between everything that gains her interest. Just so she knows and feels he too does appreciate everything, she stands for, as his wife, the mother of their children - an incredible woman and as the person she is. Thing is before when he met her, Jason distinctively respected her he had admiration for her and straightforward physical and emotional attraction for her - like he has throughout the years of their marriage and still does til this day.Every story has an End, bu in Life every End is just a new Beginning - Sometimes the very thing you're looking for. The way I feel I know I've reached the right destination and it's real. When I said I love you, that meant for good - when I said I do  - that I also meant for ever. Engraved - carved confessions that once echoed and spilled out of Jason's mouth, without regret he admitted without fear on the night the two were married in New York. These words are sketched in the wood inside the old barn out back, barn number 2. The thing is Jason never think as far as similar relations as doubt goes, he knows what he feels and he is not someone who just speaks to hear himself talk - when he professes or claims it's real. There are actions that are motivated through these verbal professes also and sometimes those actions increase into something larger for a particular date he owned just so his wife Kit-Kat can be relive but in the current tide (day), of the knowing that he is still ate-up in love with her and right here inside this barn will represent all the time and effort put into this unexpected surprise. Each piece - each symbol - each structure - each object here when she sees it resembles the appreciation, every second of every minute in each day. Jason has remained damn sure, to be on top of it when it came to who and what is important, he didn't see his essentially beautiful wife  as just his lover, but his best friend a soul mate and not a second went on he didn't tell her, or show her and let her see it with just looking at her .Each decor- described loud and clear in detail of Kat, from the arrangements of pink roses, for symbolizing every day they've been married circulating around a pink Harley Davidson he rebuilt for her a whole three weeks prior. Flickering candles lit were blown out that's obvious for being out there for several nights now, but still remained staked surrounding around the heart center of the barn where the pink Harley Hog parked abruptly to a semi left stake. The pink leather bound seat, used for surfacing a small concealed box it had another stored present that he had purchased for about one month in advanced. Nothing can replace the original ring she has, if she still has it but that is the reason he provided a naked petite chain for the old one to be strung on and she could carry it around as a charm hung off a necklace--in this box retained a solid pink diamond band ring, rose cut-shaped diamond.  Now Jason is a man's, man - all tough, no nonsense type, but with his family , laid back and settled he is not afraid to be a family man, and he sure in hell is fearless at showing his wife he is crazy, in love with her still - and to be a romantic, on occasion if he has to be to prove it.A pair of long-horn antlers are plaqued on the small section over the double brawny barn door entrance. 

These rules are not so hard to follow.  So here we go1.  I am NOT Nina Dobrev. Don't ask me if I am Nina Dobrev.  But I do really love her.2. This is an ORIGINAL character so do NOT steal ANYTHING from my page.  Do NOT steal my edited pics.  They took me a long time to edit and I don't want to see them on another page.  Also I do have some of my photos made for me and I don't want those on other pages.3. 18 years and older rp.  (unless I say otherwise)4. Please make sure your grammar is good.  A few mistakes I won't freak out but if it continues, I will talk to you.5. Please use spell check.  Now a few words misspelled is fine.  I'm not the greatest speller in the world but I do try to use the spell check.6. You must know Star Trek to rp with me. (especially Deep Space Nine but I won't get mad if you don't know much about it but know more about another Trek series, minus anything reboot)7. I can't be here 24/7.  I have other accounts I run on here.8. No godmodding my character.  I will do that myself. (unless I grant you permission)9. I am not a friend collector so if you are, this isn't the place for you.  Also if you came here just to steal from me and I find out, I will delete, report and block you.10. No one liners.  One liners are so boring.  I rp para, multi para to Novella.  Let me know what you prefer.11. I normally roleplay in third person but if you prefer first person, please let me know.12. Do not hurt, rape, kidnap, kill my character.  I will not like you if you do any of that without my consent.13. This character is based off Star Trek Online so if you have any questions please let me know.14. Read my bio.15. Do not recycle storylines.  You can use some aspects but be original.  It will be totally boring if I see something I've seen on the TV.  I know this character is original but still.16. To the Star Trek roleplayers, I would like my character to be referred as Commander or ma'am. (now outside of work you may call her Athena)17. I am a type who will only go with one person.  I will not do anything to cheat on that person and I would advice you to not do the same with my partner.  If I hear anything about this, I will hunt you down.  You don't want to mess with a southern girl who thinks her man is being looked upon by another girl in a sexual way.18: Keep your drama off my page.  I don't want to mess with bullsh*t.  I am here to roleplay, not create drama with anyone (unless it's in a storyline) Do it and I will remove you before you can hear me say 'Red Alert!'19. DO NOT CHANGE THE VIEWS OF MY CHARACTER.  IF SHE DISLIKES A GROUP OF SPECIES, LET IT BE.  DO NOT TURN HER INTO A LESBIAN.***I do play Star Trek Online so I will know if you are using content from the game word by word.  I used some but I made it my own***That is all the rules I can think of for now.  If I can think of any more, I will add them.

The crowd around Ken erupted, two brawlers with no gloves, no padding, ready to duke it out in a brawl for the sole purpose of adrenaline was enough to uncaged the animal inside anyone. A lot of blood, sweat, and tears were engraved in the make-shift ring the two combatants stood on. There was nothing incredibly note worthy about either one except their willing to fight, their passion to succeed and win, maybe even their tenacity to break someone's skull with their bare hands, after all, that earned you some bragging rights on the streets. The ring was surrounded by a barricade of iron bars, about waist high, keeping the crowd and participants both out of the way and letting the fighters do what they do best.Ken nodded across the ring, the designated bell keeper tapping down against the hollowed metal with a hammer and a ring shattered the air around them all. Without hesitation, one of the fighters, a tall, yet skinny chap rushed forward, laying a 'cheap shot' into the ribs of his smaller, though fuller opponent. Ken frowned upon those cheap shots, but they weren't forbidden. This was a slaughter house, not a playground. Once that bell rang, if you weren't ready, that was your own problem. The short man fell to his knee after the blow, stunned and as he attempted to rise, the tall man charged like an angry bull and brought his bare knee across the jaw of his opponent, making splinters of his teeth. The short fighter fell made little attempt to catch his weight, even if he had the energy, it was likely a dazed confusion of what just happened. Ken nodded in respect and started to lean away from the rail as the taller man approached, leaning down and throwing one more solid punch into the back of the head of his opponent. Now that was frowned upon. Iritate at the audacity, Ken was willing to ignore it, a heat in the moment approach for a rookie. It happened, even if he wanted to tear his head off for it. But to his shock and awe, he threw another punch, then another, finally dropping a knee, all the while the crowd booing and the bell ringing rapidly."You gettin' up now, homie?! Huh? Wanna run ya' mouth more, motherfucker?!" The tall man's arms left his body, extended out like Jesus on the cross and shouting over the roaring booing, ready to take on anyone else. The other fighters did not jump the rail and beat him because once again, it was frowned upon, that or they were scared. It was always a frightening display when someone was willing to bend the rules, even in a crowd full of cold blood killers, which is exactly what you signed up for when you stepped in that ring."Ya' got a big fuckin' mouth, mate." Ken's voice spoke out strong and stern, the crowd slowly dimming to a silent murmuring. His weight shifted over the guarding barrier and outside the ring set up on the floor, waving over a few fighters to attend to the fallen fighter. "There is one rule here, mate. Ya' don't strike someone who is down. Now ya' gone and pissed off me fighters."Ken was hardly dressed for competition, a retired has-been would sum him up nicely. He sat behind the scenes training fighters, giving them advice, grooming them to make him money. Dressed in a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, equally hindering him a pair of worker's boots, it was hardly an attire for competition. Not like the man before him, bare feet, bare knuckles, head shaved, a scar beneath his right eye and his left jaw. This man was younger, faster, and hungrier than him at this stage of his career. Now he was staring down the barrel of someone as dangerous as .45 pointed at their head, finger on the trigger. "Yo, you best get outta MY ring. I won, gimme my money, an' ya'll can suck my dick! Bunch of pussies is what ya'll are. Fuckin' fight like a bunch of pussies." The young man ran his mouth, cashing a whole lot of checks that his ass was not cleared to cover. Ken decided in that moment, that his arrogance was his weakness. One of his few, if not the only weakness he had. "You want your money, fella?" he shouted. The fighter scoffed and crossed his arms. "Yeah, that's right, my fuckin' money or I am gonna kick ya' ass in front of everyone here!"Ken wiped some excess spit on his lips, wiping it down on his jeans, nodding. "Make ya' a deal, mate. Whatever your pay is, I wil dou-- no, triple it, if you fight me. One round. If you knock me on me ass, or I cannot knock ya' on yours, triple." Looking around at the crowd, a sudden cheer started, not to see him come out of retirement for another fight, not even to see a fight, but the stakes just got a lot higher. Ken had something big to prove and not just money to lose now. "Alright, ya' got yourself a deal. Three minutes. That's all I need for a punk ass like ya'self!"As per usual, Ken emptied his pockets, removing his cell phone and wallet, some loose change and a pendent on a necklace that he kept with him. Reaching over, he handed it to the bell keeper, who muttered something like 'just knock this fuckin' cunt on his arse already'. Shaking his hands and becoming more limber, Ken let out a soft sigh. Tension was pretty high, it was a win the ultimate bragging rights fight and both had a lot to lose. His underground fight would be forever ruined and if he won, this kid's career was over. "Ya' ready hot shot?" Ken asked, the fighter across from not saying a word, only giving that 'fuck you' look he has seen a hundred times today alone. Looking over his shoulder, he took notice to the fighter before him, regaining his stance, deep down hoping he was only sticking around to see this arrogant kid get what was coming to him finally. Ken offered a faint wink before tossing his head back and both just in time and not soon enough, as his eyes caught up with the turning speed of his head, the fighter once again took a cheap shot, this time without the bell. His jaw rattled as his fist collided, fortunately for him it was a sloppy hook with a sloppy stance, causing the fist to more so swipe the skin instead of breaking the bone.The bell keeper looked confused, unsure if he should ring the bell or not. To Ken, it didn't matter now. Bell or not, this was about to be a done deal. Another hook cycled through his other arm, a common mistake by a rookie and Ken swiftly ducked, in the same instant swerved his body in a snake like slither and rose up with a heavy fist, driving his knuckles up and under the chin of his opponent. The sound was almost sickening, a loud crunch and teeth clearly shattering in his mouth. The tall man stumbled back, instead of falling, causing Ken to instinctively charge forward himself and leaping into the air, using the weight of his body as momentum and felt his fist strike into the nose and eye socket, making quick work of his opponent.Time felt as if had slow, blood pumping through his veins like battery acid. The tall man fell back and collapsed onto his back, a slow motion figure and an echoed thud. Ken's chest expanded heavily and anger, more than anything, swelled in the deepest regions of his stomach. The lack of respect for another man, for this club that he worked hard to build, for the crowd who paid good money and worst of all, arrogance in a gentleman's sport, it was a mockery against everything he lived for now. Lifting his foot, Ken prepared to soccer punt him in the head, more than likely killing him in the process and nobody would say a thing against him. They wanted to see an example made just as much as he did and as he brought his foot back, it was if time now stopped entirely. Flood gates of emotion opened, screams of terror and shrieking in his mind and a silhouette of his future crumbling. It was in that instant he realized doing this was making him no better than this sack of shit. It made him worse. 'Live by example', a message scribed into the pendent he carried. As time settled back he slammed his foot down and turned, screaming in victory."Now get this cunt outta me establishment, free beers for everyone, and get the next fuckin' fight started!" Ken moved out of the ring and over to the bell keeper, retrieving his personal belongings and even had a faint tear in his eyes. It was not intentional, him coming out of a retirement but it happened. The thrill to fight was jump starting his heart repeatedly as it bounded against his breast plate, letting out a soft laughter. "Cheers, mates!" Hopping over the guard rail, sweat dripping and throwing across the floor, he made his way towards the back and held his hand up high.

Link to on going plots and Biographies and can be found in the links above.Coming SoonConnectionsStorylinesBiography

I will be working on character bio's today and the rest of summer so please be patient with me i will try to at least get one girl's bio up a day or every two days depending on how long it takes me i never did character bio's before so yeah

December 25th 2013 This day is super special to me, why you ask? yes it was christmas but it was also the day this guy stole my heart, he waited untill christmas to ask me out. so i said yes :D my friends told me i shouldnt be with him for many reasons & we where on & off we fight alot hah but at the end of the day i love him beyond everything. on May 6th 2013 he became my happy ever after , this day is also my birthday, & i was in disneyworld on the phone to him when he asked me it was a dream day �� ive struggled alot the last year. Nobody knows anything about him but know this hes saved me he came into my life in a time of need, hes my guardian angel because hes saved me, hes made me smile again & see the colours of the world. i love our weird conversations, our picture fights, when he sends me cute funny pictures, or when he sends me selfies when i feel like shit & way to tired. thans to him im back to my old self. & im never letting him go ever again. hes being an ass & wont log onto to rp. but lemme share our cuteness   I LOVE HIM OKAY

Roleplay Preferences and GuidelinesRevisedWELCOME TO MY NOBLE HEARTS OF ELLAN VANNIN VERSE  1.     ALL ADDS ON A TRIAL BASIS 2.     Zero tolerance for status stream whining and threats that you are deleting or will be cleaning out friends list. I simply do that routinely without the negative attention seeking drama. 3.     Zero tolerance for OOC drama---period. 4.     I DO NOT send starters. If that poses a problem do not add me. 5.     No mirrors. Crossovers welcomed. 6.     Do not attempt SL with me if you have a running SL with another person who plays same canon character as I do. I will return the favour. 7.     I work a demanding fulltime job. I check in on weekdays and do most of my active roleplay on weekends. 8.     I reserve the right to profile hop as I have many profiles of various verses/genres. I get bored and need roleplay options. 9.     Do not take any of the edits in my albums. 10.       All writing is intellectual property. 11.       Respect my privacy and time and I will return the favour.I DO NOT SIGN RULES!!!! Thank you for your interest in roleplaying with me.RV

Deception is the ability to make one perceive whatever you want them to perceive. Deception came very easy to Declan Sullivan. A reason why he spent so many years on the force undercover. Most cops hated undercover work. Declan enjoyed it. Pretending to be someone else. Living a life not his own. It was a great way to get the FBI Agent out of his own head. Declan had done a dozen cases for the LAPD undercover and had never once been made. He was one of the best Narcs in the country, so of course the FBI would make use of their newly joined agent's talents. He was perfect for this assignment. Not only had he experience with undercover work, but he was Irish and held dual citizenship in Ireland thanks to his father. His mission would be to infiltrate the IRA and report any  business dealing taking place on US soil.There was a huge gun trade going on in the Western United States and the FBI believed the IRA was right in the middle of it. It wouldn't be enough to nail the IRA presence in the US no the Feds wanted everyone involved. Suppliers and customers included. It would be one of the biggest busts in history. Declan saw it as a challenge so accepted the case. Off to Ireland he was sent after his identity in the US had all been erased. The first place he went when he landed in Dublin was the pub owned by his father. Victor. He had rarely seen his Father since his mother had divorced him then took Declan with her back to the states. They weren't close, but neither did Declan hate him. His father was a miserably drunk. Pushing people away was simply his nature. A nature his son feared he had inherited. Declan wasn't going there for a social call. While never officially in the IRA Victor had developed connections with many members through the pub he owned. He mostly bought liquor from them even going as far as to shelter them when the pay was good. Much like his son Victor was proud of his country he simply didn't care for politics. Through his Father, Declan was able to make the connections he desired. The training he received as a bomb technician in the FBI had come in handy. Soon he was building explosives for the IRA. His cover story was it was something he had picked up while robbing banks in the states. It had taken him a year, but finally he had earned enough trust for a promotion. Having spent the later years of his youth in LA and being affiliated with some of the local gangs the IRA sent Declan to California. He would make sure things went smoothly with the gun trade. He would oversee the weapons being smuggled into the country and their delivery to the MC. His connection to the MC would be a beautiful Irish woman named Sloane Curran. Declan had spent time working under her. It was in fact Sloane who handled IRA business in Boston. Things began to get to heated for her with the authorities, so she put distance between her and the Irish.  She had since been relocated to California where she found work with the MC. At least he assumed that's why she had left. He hoped it had nothing to do with mission in Spain. There she had scoped and possibly landed them as potential business partners."About time ta' Kings sent someone who knows how to deal with Americans." Michael Grady Declan's second in command said as he drove them to meet with Sloane. "You're young, but one crazy son of a bitch." He laughed. Declan had spent the last year doing the most dangerous tasks the IRA had. Nothing granted loyalty like bleeding for the cause. Most days Declan in no way wanted to die, but he didn't fear death either. Death was peace. It was what made life so important. "Fuckin' Americans are easy enough to deal with as long as ya remember they're as fuckin' greedy as the Irish are stubborn." Declan replied to him rolling down the window, so he could smoke. Declan held no prejudice to any race, because he simply thought people were flawed from the start. It was their flaws that made them interesting. "Ah I forgot. Your Mother is American." Michael remarked as if it were a insult. Declan gave him a look that told him that was a line he didn't want to cross. "How about you concentrate more on the fuckin' road and less on me American Mother." He told him then lit his cigarette. The sleeping Shih Tzu finally stirred in Declan's lap. "I gotta ask. What's with the dog?" Michael asked. Delcan reached down and scratched the dog behind the ears. "I couldn't leave him in Dublin alone. I'd never see him." Declan answered as if it were obvious. The Shih Tzu, Declan affectionately named Potato had been a gift from his best friend Noah. Noah had bought it to prove Declan couldn't handle the responsibility of caring after something other than himself. Declan had not only proved Noah wrong, but he proved that he could look after the dog even better than himself. Probably cause Declan had come to like the dog better than everyone in his life including himself. Potato was the only thing from his old life he had been allowed to take with him to Ireland. The dog was a reminder of who Declan truly was."I hear from Sloane the lads in the MC are good lads. Not part of te' old ways. Young like you. Probably why they replaced Jon with you. Someone new to work with someone new." Declan took a drag out of his cigarette as he listened to the older man speak. No they brought be out here to deal with Lorenzo "I was sent here for one reason an' one reason only to put te' fear of the good Catholic God into anyone who tries to fuck us over." He replied to the man the scratched Potato behind the ear again. "Fuckin' bikers. The white trash version of the Mafia." Declan personally thought MCs were little different than the local gangs he dealt with in LA. They produced chaos much like gangs. Declan was finished with his cigarette by the time they arrived to their destination. When he exited the SUV he threw his cigarette on the ground then snuffed out. This would be his first time seeing Sloane since she had left for Boston. This would also be when the real work started. They were getting close now. Getting close to destroying this empire. 

We were recently forced to censor a couple of words.  This censorship is for the ad companies (our sponsors) and is not for us (the owners) or because of our beliefs, nor is it to protect underage members.  We are aware some feel that it impedes their desire to use foul language in public updates, posts and comments.  Messages are not being censored.Consider this, the 2 words that we censor are still comprehend-able when censored.Thanks for being flexible and understanding. Contact Support if you have any questions.

It's long, but I liked to be detailed as possible because I don't like answering a lot of questions (but don't be afraid to ask me anything, I just don't like tons of questions).Nevaeh KennedyNevaeh Kennedy, or Vaeh for short, is the daughter of a New Canaanite tribal and a Ranger. She grew up close to Ogden, the birth place of Joshua Graham. Her Ranger father was hardly around, as he was busy traveling all over the wastes, so she spent most of her time with her mother, who taught her the faith of the New Canaanite tribe.At age eight, her mother had another child, her brother, whose name she cannot remember. Her mother died in childbirth and her father decided to stay home permanently shortly thereafter. At the age of ten, her father left to go on a mission as a favor to a friend and left her and her brother in the care of a neighbor. Months passed and the neighbor realized he was never coming back. The neighbor was moving to New Vegas and was forced to take Vaeh and her brother with her.Along the way they came across a Followers camp. The neighbor left both children there, feeling she fulfilled her obligation of watching over them. Her brother was adopted, but Vaeh remained in the camp until she turned eighteen. She became fast friends with another girl there, but she hardly remembers her now, only knowing that the girl had blonde hair.She left the Followers to explore the path her religion demanded of her -- to travel the world and teach others about the word of God. She didn't get very far in her journey. The prosperous city she stopped in was attacked by the Legion the first week she was there. Vulpes killed a young boy she had befriended and then kidnapped her.Her clothes were taken and exchanged for slave rags and a bomb collar was strapped to her neck. She was then delivered to an auction block at one of the Legion's slave camps, only to be taken away when she was next in line. Vulpes explained nothing, only took her back to the Fort and gave her to Silus, who had recently received the rank of Centurion. (He wasn't the asshole he currently is, back then.)He chose to protect her because she reminded him greatly of his mother, who he couldn't save. He teaches Vaeh to fight and helps her improve her Latin. They fall in love and Vulpes realizes Silus cares more for Vaeh than the Legion. Vulpes discovers Vaeh shares many things in common with the Legate, and informs Graham. Graham decides he wants Vaeh.Vaeh becomes pregnant with Silus' child, and Vulpes does all he can to ensure Vaeh will be ready for the Legate, including saving her from a rapist and concocting a poison so she miscarries. (Vaeh and Silus don't know Vulpes caused the miscarriage.)Silus is instructed to take her to the Legate, and he forms a plan to help her escape. He gives Vaeh his mother's anklet, a turquoise band that allegedly gives protection from the Goddess of his tribe, to remember him by. They sleep together for the last time.Vaeh sleeps with the Legate shortly after meeting him, only so she can escape. Silus sneaks in and removes her collar and they run from the camp to the edge of Lake Mead where he has a female corpse hidden behind a boulder. He places the bomb collar on the corpse and dumps the body in the Lake. He takes Vaeh to an abandoned fishing shack and leaves her. The corpse's collar is detonated while he's saying good-bye.Silus returns to camp only to be punished for letting Vaeh escape. He receives fifty lashes of the whip in front of the entire camp. Heartbroken, he resolves to do everything he can to make sure the Legion doesn't go searching for her, including blocking her from his mind completely.A year later, Vaeh gives birth to a boy, Silus' son. She leaves the child in the care of a family in Outer Vegas. Her travels lead her all over the Mojave, and four years later the first battle of Hoover Dam occurs. Two years after the battle, she signs up with the Mojave Express. Another two years pass, and she gets ambushed by Benny and the Great Khans.

Physical Appearance:Vaeh is 5'4" and about 130lbs. She is curvy and keeps herself athletically toned.She has short jet black hair with midnight blue streaks throughout and has hazel eyes.(Between the ages of 18-20, her hair was long and wavy, well past her shoulders. She cut it as it kept getting in her way when she engaged in combat.)Like Arcade, she sunburns easily.She is currently 28-years-old.Education:Vaeh grew up in a Followers camp. She received schooling from the age of ten to eighteen.Skills:All of Vaeh's skills are average, but her specialties are in lockpicking and explosives. She is highly charismatic (just don't ask her to barter) and has enough medical knowledge to perform basic medical procedures and first aid. Combat Style:Vaeh is a skilled marksman with firearms, having been forced to learn to make every bullet count because she had very little money. Her favorite weapon is an Anti-Materiel Rifle she calls Sapphire.Her energy weapons use is average but continues to improve.She is skilled in unarmed combat, but prefers not to fight with her fists. She often takes a more aggressive stance than a defensive one when engaged in unarmed combat, as this is the style Silus taught her.She is not very well trained in the use of melee combat, but she does carry a machete which she calls the Fox Killer, making it the weapon she intends to use to kill Vulpes Inculta.Personality and Demeanor:Typically shy and quiet, she keeps to herself most of the time, but will start a conversation if she feels an unspoken connection with a person. She tends to over-think and analyze everything to death, always wanting to make sure she has made the correct decision. She curses a lot but tries not to. She can be sarcastic and caustic at times, but overall she's a friendly and open person. However, her brutal honesty can push people away.She gets along well with children and animals, despite her abrasiveness.Favorite Hobbies/Things To Do:Winning at blackjack, reading Pre-War books about long-ago armies and toppled governments, and visiting Sarah Weintraub.Foods:Anything that wasn't made 200 years ago. And vodka. Lots and lots of vodka. Hates coffee, loves tea. Loves very fine wine and vanilla bean cupcakes with vegan cream cheese frosting.Factions:Hates the Legion with a fiery passion.Kills any Powder Gangers, Vipers, and Fiends she comes across.Respects the Great Khans and Followers.On friendly terms with the Boomers.Loves the King and his gang and is the first female member.Supports the NCR to a degree; like Benny, she thinks the only good thing about them is they ain't Legion.The Brotherhood of Steel is her family, since she's been accepted by McNamara. She considers the Bunker her home. Though she doesn't always agree with their beliefs, she believes their cause is noble and one day they will restore their fading membership.She fought for an Independent Vegas and won.Other:House - DeadBenny - Helped him escape the Fort and he livedCaesar - Dead, with the help of BooneVulpes - Alive, out in the Wastes somewhere

All right, so you're interested in roleplaying with me. Good, good for you.Here are my rules:1. My real life comes first, always. I work and socialize. I'm told it's fun but I have my doubts sometimes. Anyway, when I'm away from my laptop it's cause I've got real crap to deal with.2. You must discuss with me what story line you wish to do. I have to be interested, after all.3. I will write adult themes (oooohhh, sex!), though not graphically. And it has to flow with the story line. We must discuss it first, though. If you just want to bang Vaeh then that's not going to happen. I know, I know, she's sexy, but get over it.4. Don't autoplay. There's only one person that I trust to write anything to do with Vaeh and you're not that person. Sorry.5. No crossovers. I have yet to come across a story that's even remotely believable.6. I can do multiple story lines though it's not my favorite thing.7. If there is any drama whatsoever, I'm gone. I'll write myself out of the story and won't return. I have enough drama bullshit in my real life and I don't need it fucking up something I'm supposed to be enjoying. Fucking eh...act like an adult, okay?8. Be a halfway decent writer. I'm not the greatest but at least put some effort into what you write. Spell check is awesome, people.9. Don't assume anything about Vaeh or myself. If you want to know something, please ask. I won't bite too hard, I promise.