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Canon: © Anne Bishop
Board's Plot: Blood Rites
Points Scheme: Mother Night
Ratio System: Blood Rites

Blood Rites best viewed in Firefox.
Established February 2010
by Jamie, Gina & Bowie.

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Recent Posts

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OOC Account Registration / Re: Livish
« Last post by Jamie on Sep 14, 20, 09:48:36 AM »
Hi Livish! Welcome to BR, lovely to have you with us.
OOC Account Registration / Re: Livish
« Last post by Livish on Sep 13, 20, 04:38:38 PM »
I'd absolutely love to plot with people in Dena Nehele (pending approval for Ionatan of course). I don't want to get into anything super relevant to the main Territory or District plot yet, but I'd love to do some slice of life/personal growth/Angst and Feelings roleplay!

Thanks for the welcomes, everyone! :)
Dena Nehele / Re: Ionatan Manuel
« Last post by halyonix on Sep 13, 20, 01:17:29 PM »
added to queue
OOC Account Registration / Re: Livish
« Last post by Nemaisare on Sep 12, 20, 11:06:47 PM »
Heylo! Nice to see a new face about!

I've got a character in Dena Nehele if you ever want a thread! And a few elsewhere if you want to plot and feel like expanding. ;) I do enjoy tossing ideas around.
Dena Nehele / Re: Ionatan Manuel
« Last post by Ionatan Manuel on Sep 12, 20, 10:31:45 PM »
Ready for review!
Dena Nehele / Re: Ionatan Manuel
« Last post by halyonix on Sep 12, 20, 06:42:35 PM »
Weighed by Mother Night...

You've risen from the Darkness twice blessed with a cut White Birthright Jewel, and were gifted with a cut Tiger Eye Jewel at your Offering.



and while i'm here, i'll get your family rolls too:

1. Rose - Purple Dusk
2. Tiger Eye - Rose
3. White - Tiger Eye
4. White - Tiger Eye
5. White - Yellow
OOC Account Registration / Re: Livish
« Last post by Kenna on Sep 12, 20, 06:22:04 PM »
Hello! I’m Kenna, plot lead of Pruul, a nomadic desert territory with giant killer worms :) I have some current want ads up if your interested.

Look forward to seeing you around.
Dena Nehele / Re: Ionatan Manuel
« Last post by Ionatan Manuel on Sep 12, 20, 06:15:30 PM »
Can I please get a random roll for Birthright and Offering Jewels?

Thank you!
Dena Nehele / Ionatan Manuel
« Last post by Ionatan Manuel on Sep 12, 20, 05:46:43 PM »
The Basics
Character Name: Ionatan Manuel
Nicknames: Ionutsu (from his deceased father and also some Dena Nehele people he had known as a child), Papi (from his mother), Dad (from his exasperated friends)
Age and Birth Year: 202 (born year 7 BP)
Race: 50% short-lived, 50% long-lived (half Dhemlan/half Dena Nehele)
Caste: Warlord
Birth Territory: Dena Nehele
Home Territory: Dena Nehele

Birthright Jewel: cut White
Offering Jewel: cut Tiger Eye

Role: Healer’s Escort-in-training
Faction: Conservatory

Play By: Mario Lopez
Distinguishing Features: Ionatan looks Dhemlan except for his brown eyes and hair that has just a hint of a wave. He's not exactly out of place in Dena Nehele but certainly out of the norm.


Ionatan can’t help but want to learn. It’s in his blood. His mother had instilled in him a love of knowledge and book-learning from an early age, and his father had nurtured the practical learning-by-doing in the metalworking trade.

He also can’t help but want to, well, help. Which is why he’s at the Conservatory. It also might be why he's surprisingly less well-off than he has any right to be. As a man who has been practicing and perfecting the metalworking and jewelry trade for almost two centuries (with all the profits one might expect from selling exquisite and expensive pieces), he should be swimming in money by now. But he's known to be the best-priced jeweler in Dena Nehele for cutting and setting Jewels and will often sell commissions at a loss for his less-wealthy clients. Not that he's lacking for money--he never has to scrimp to make ends meet--but his bank account and home don't accurately reflect his experience in his trade.

In short, he's a pushover businessman who prefers to err on the side of being too kind.

As a light-Jeweled Warlord with a friendly smile, Ionatan is able to put most people and animals at ease. He is usually cheerful but not garrulous. Kind, but a little on the meeker side. Until you engage him in one of his favorite topics of conversation, at which point he’d happily talk the listener’s ear off.

Whenever someone asks him why he cares about all that philosophical scholarship stuff, he insists that it’s because it’s so interesting in its own right. But sometimes in the privacy of his own mind he’ll admit to himself that it interests him because of his mother, who was killed in the Purge. Who had always urged him to uphold the Blood’s code of honor. Who had been a Dhemlan Priestess and a keeper of the archives before the clash between her morals and the culture around her had spurred her to leave Dhemlan for a different life in Dena Nehele. Who had danced for the glory of Witch every Winsol and been one of the dreamers to wish for the cleansing of the Blood. How was it fair that she—?

But even in his own mind, he balks and shakes off the thought. Better to instead wonder about the Realms, and the Webs of Power, and the nature of the Darkness.

Sometimes he also wonders about whether he’ll find someone, anyone, to share his life. He has already decided that he would prefer to find another mixed-race person to grow old with. But he’s a little worried on that front. It’s not that he hasn’t found anyone mixed that he likes…he hasn’t really found anyone that he likes. And isn’t that a little odd? Again, he tries not to think about it if he can help it. But the worry slowly but surely gnaws at his heart.

Ionatan is the type to hyper-focus on the things that catch his attention, but he's found that baking is a good outlet and set of rituals for him so he can unwind and rest his brain. This has the dubiously fortunate side effect of producing more baked goods than he should be eating as part of a balanced diet. It all works out in the end though--he hyper-focuses, forgets to eat proper meals, his blood sugar drops, and then he makes up for the deficit in sweets, and all the things he baked to soothe his mind get eaten. It's not exactly healthy, but he's meeting all his caloric needs, so everything's fine, right?

  • 1. Philosophical scholarship. What is the Darkness, exactly? What is the Abyss? What exactly are the Webs of Power? Why do some people’s Offerings to the Darkness result in a Descent of three ranks, but others two or even one, and when and how exactly is that determined—during the Offering itself or sometime between the Birthright Ceremony and the Offering? How did people collectively decide what is considered Craft, and what is considered power? How did the three Realms come to be, and why…et cetera. Ionatan has a strong desire to know the whys and hows of the world, even when the answers are unknown. He will quite happily discuss and debate this subject for hours.

  • 2. Metalwork and jewelry making. His father had been an artisan in Dena Nehele and his mother had had Dhemlan tastes. He’d learned from a young age how to create works of art from metals and stones.

  • 3. Puns and sarcasm. He had more than earned the nickname “dad” during his stay at the Conservatory. Sure, part of it was because he was old enough to be these students’ great great grandfather. And the other part was from all the dad jokes.

  • 1. Deliberate damage done to books. Some students in his class chose to annotate or dog-ear their own copies of their schoolbooks and it drove him up the wall with irritation. Books were precious! They were to be cherished, not…not…defaced! He didn’t want to stir up trouble, so he never said anything, but any time there was communal studying being done he made sure that all ruining of books was at least outside his field of vision.

  • 2. Dirt and grime. He had always been fastidious, even as a child. Oh, dirt had its place. Its place was on the ground. Anywhere else and it would have to be dealt with immediately.

  • 3. Cheese and other dairy cultures. He had been told numerous times that this opinion was wrong, but he didn’t care. Cheese didn’t register as food to him and as soon as it touched his tongue he started to gag. Sometimes even the smell would nauseate him. And he couldn’t figure out why he had such a strong reaction to it. Sometimes it was easiest to pretend he was allergic to milk to avoid all the questions.

  • 1. Was he good enough to be in the Conservatory, or would he fail out? Studying and memorizing everything was easy enough, but to become a full-fledged Healer’s Escort he would have to internalize everything he was learning to the point that it became instinct.

  • 2. Violence. He could handle the results of it just fine (of course the sight and smell of blood didn’t bother him), but when it came to actual acts of violence, he was worse than useless. Maybe he was in the wrong Territory.

  • 3. Would he be able to find someone to love and grow old with? People with mixed heritage weren’t rare, exactly, but neither were they exactly common. And he doesn’t seem to like anyone that way. He doesn’t want to live thousands of years alone.

    Craft Strengths:
  • 1. Anything to do with tiny fires or heat shields. He had practiced and perfected this sort of Craft for his metalworking since he was a boy. He favorite way to solder hard-to-reach nooks and crannies in his pieces was to heat a needle between his fingers. He could even (if he wet his palms immediately prior to bolster his shield and give himself an extra layer of protection if it failed) melt small quantities of silver in his bare hands. Of course he couldn't maintain the heat or the shield over a large area or for longer than a couple minutes like someone wearing a dark Jewel might, but his precision and control were unparalleled--especially in a short-lived Territory.

  • 2. Basic hearth Craft. It had been a natural progression from his aversion to dirt and his control of fire and heat shields, so he is a good cook, baker, and homemaker. If anyone makes fun of him for it, well then they don’t get any nutcakes or pastries next time he bakes them. So there.

    Craft Weaknesses:
  • 1. Healing burn wounds, ironically. He knew he wasn’t training to be a Healer, just an Escort, but he’d learned SOME basic Healing Craft…and still he was awful at knitting burns together. Good thing he was so good at heat shielding himself.

  • 2. Calming spells. He was already almost as nonthreatening as he could be—his caste, Jewels, and personality didn’t exactly scream “danger”. So he hadn’t really studied calming spells as well as he should have. But did he really need them? (The answer was probably yes, they’d most likely be on the final exam, but for now he was content enough to coast along with what had worked for him in the past.)

    Life Story

    Mother: Maria-Clara Manuel (Tiger Eye to Rose Priestess, native of Dhemlan), (born 845 BP, died during the Purge)
    Father: Ion Petrescu (White to broken Yellow Warlord, short-lived native of Dena Nehele), died of old age at 97 (born 33 BP, died 64 AP)
    Siblings: none

    Before Ionatan was even a promise in the Darkness, Maria-Clara Manuel was a Priestess working at the Archives in Dhemlan. She was not aristo or dark-Jeweled but had attended the Academy due to sheer brilliance and hard work. But her parents had taught her the old ways of the Blood, and despite desperately loving being around so much knowledge, the Dhemlan society chafed against her morals. The years of war with Askavi and the annexing of Dhemlan made her heartsick. She packed up and left in search of a life that suited her better.

    She was lucky, she supposed. Her light Jewels and lower social standing had given her the freedom to leave.

    Maria-Clara decided to travel the Territory and the effects of the war battered at her heart. As a Priestess it hurt to see Blood pitted against each other, physically pained her to see what the caretakers of the Realms were inflicting upon each other. All the woman could do was offer what meager solace and hope she could.

    She eventually found herself in the south of Dena Nehele. She also unexpectedly found a group of artists and artisans that followed the old ways like her. And despite knowing that a relationship with one of them could only be a short one compared to her expected lifetime, she fell in love with the metalworker Ion Petrescu.

    He was patient and kind and made shields and pretty things instead of weapons for the war. And together they had a child named Ionatan Manuel.

    Ionatan was his parents’ joy. He had his mother’s sharp mind, his father’s clever hands, and the Blood’s old code of honor from them both. They both knew that as a mixed-race child he would outlive one of his parents, but in his early childhood years he was a balm to Maria-Clara's heart.

    What a cruelly curious twist of fate, then, that when he was 7, the Purge took his mother.

    When the Witch storm hit, Maria-Clara recognized the depth of power rushing from the Abyss. If she had only worried about herself she probably would have survived. But the Priestess feared for her young son's life, panicked, and shielded him as best she could. Ionatan's sheer wonder at the Darkness and probably helped--his mother had taught as much as she could--so when the tide of power rose, the boy emerged battered, but alive.

    (Ionatan's own memory of this particular event, as with many traumatic experiences, is fuzzy. He didn't realize at the time that his mom had given her life to shield him. His father chose not to tell him so his son wouldn't feel guilty.)

    Ion did his best with his son. He had loved Maria-Clara fiercely, but he had to continue living for his Ionutsu. Everything she had tried to instill in the boy, the love of knowledge and learning, the morals, even the Dhemlan sense of style and fashion, he made sure would stick. Her memory would live on.

    At 8, Ionatan emerged from his Birthright Ceremony clutching a cut White Jewel. As a single and not-particularly-wealthy father, Ion didn’t have much of a choice but to start to teach his young son Craft through his trade.

    At 10 Ionatan got his first severe burn. It was the first time Ion ever called him “stupid”. It was well-deserved. He had learned how to heat-shield the previous year and had gotten careless. The name and the pain rankled enough that he practiced heat shields every day, over and over, until shielding became second nature.

    At 19 he made his Offering and came away with a cut Tiger Eye Jewel. As both a jeweler and someone who wore light Jewels he realized that finesse, control, precision, and accuracy would be invaluable assets. He couldn't just throw power at his problems like others might. Ion helped him hone his Craft to pinpoint accuracy.

    Ionatan stayed with his father as Ion aged, taking more and more responsibility for the metalworking as the man grew frail. He did long to learn more, but he had already lost one parent, so he wanted to spend as much time with his remaining one as possible.

    Eventually Ion slipped into the Darkness. Grief made him seek the familiar, the comfortable. Metalwork. Jewelry. Honing his craft. Cutting jewels and Jewels. Creating, creating, creating.... And then he opened his eyes one day and realized that five generations of customers had bought his wares. Not his father's. His.

    He knew he didn’t just want to be a metalworker for thousands of years. He loved the trade, but needed more. Ionatan wanted to help people and immerse himself in knowledge! He had grieved for long enough. He considered his options for learning and growing and improving himself. The Conservatory? Or the Academy in Dhemlan? The thought of traveling so far from Dena Nehele scared him, and he wasn't quite sure he wanted to be around the society from which his mother had fled. And here he could learn to help. The Conservatory it was.

    He could also mostly pretend that he hadn’t found a relationship because he was so busy with his studies. A convenient and believable excuse that nobody would question. Not even him.

    Show Us What You've Got
    Character in Play:
    Butterflies fluttered in Ionatan’s stomach. Making jewelry and pretty things for the rich had been fulfilling, but he hadn’t keenly wanted anything more than he wanted this. He had applied to the Conservatory an entire month ago. Surely bastions of academic knowledge didn’t always take this long to make a decision on a candidate?

    (His mother would have laughed at him. “Patience, Papi,” she would have said. “It has only been a month. You will live for thousands of years.” And when he’d have stubbornly argued that this month felt longer than a hundred years, she’d have laughed again and bopped him lightly on the head.)

    He had to do something. It was nighttime. He was lying down but the butterflies wouldn’t let him sleep. Something…he had to move, do something to settle them.

    So he gathered himself up and set about baking cookies. Never mind that it was late. Stress-baking always made him feel better. Maybe it had to do with the physical nature of creaming the butter with the sugar (he could use Craft for that, he supposed, but he thought the cookies tasted better if he mixed with a wooden spoon for ten minutes). Or maybe it was the repetition of molding the dough into balls and arranging them neatly on the cookie sheet. Or the smell of vanilla permeating his humble accommodations when they were nearly done, making the place smell comforting and homey.

    Making cookies was a ritual. The repetition settled his mind and his stomach. Finally Ionatan’s eyes felt heavy with sleep, so he finished his final batch, wiped everything down, and crashed.
    He was awoken the next morning by an urgent knocking on the door. Ionatan blearily rubbed his eyes and mentally cursed whoever was waking him up so early (he heard his dad’s voice in his head chastising him that noon wasn’t early unless he was planning to drink alcohol), but nevertheless stumbled to the door.

    Light streamed in and temporarily blinded him. “Message for Lord Ionatan Manuel,” the strange Warlord said, squinting at the envelope he held.

    “That’s me.” Then his eyes widened and the butterflies returned to their dance with renewed vigor. “That envelope…is it from the Conservatory?” Not waiting for a reply, Ionatan snatched it out of the messenger’s hands. “No, don’t leave yet!” he pled as the other man made as if to turn around. “If I’m rejected I’ll die of sadness. If I’m accepted I’ll die of shock. And if I die then there won’t be anyone who will eat the cookies.”

    The deliveryman blinked in confusion but stayed where he was. “Uh…as you wish?”

    Ionatan carefully opened the envelope with trembling hands. Read the contents twice. Swallowed against the sudden lump in his throat and the tears pricking at his eyes. His parents would have been so proud of him. “I’m uh…I guess I’m dying of shock,” he said weakly but with a bright, wobbly grin. “Help yourself to some cookies.”

    He turned around to stagger back into his house and saw the state of his kitchen. Blinked twice. Nope, not an illusion. He didn't remember baking that many cookies last night. "I'm begging you. Please take some cookies. I can't eat twelve dozen by myself."

    Petitions (if any): none

    Wanted Ad Fulfillment (if any):
    (Use below for character fulfilling a Wanted Ad, otherwise remove)
    Wanted Ad Link:'s-personal-want-ads/msg136834/#msg136834
    Wanted Ad Sponsor: halyonix

    Player Name: Livish

OOC Account Registration / Re: Livish
« Last post by halyonix on Sep 12, 20, 05:16:46 PM »
welcome, welcome, welcome! i'm halyonix, resident gryphon, HBC, and plot lead for Glacia. feel free to hop into our discord ( to introduce yourself and chat with the other writers. i look forward to writing with you!
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