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Rhydin Role Playing Character


Out of the shadows of death rises this luscious creature.

Reborn through lust and passion, a new awakening dawns upon her.

Her dark eyes gaze upon you with hunger.

Her body a weapon of sensual desire.

Locking her eyes upon yours,

you feel the pull of darkness gripping your heart,

drawing you nearer....

6th Generation Gangrel Vampire

Sired by Kane Markece

The Golden Dragon

Due to her loyalty and love for her husband, Magnus, she has taken in the spell that has transformed her into a golden dragon, to match his black dragon.  Her immortality allows her to spend the rest of her life and the life thereafter with him, her one true love. He trains her, keeping her under his protective eye as warrior and healer for his legions. Click here to see the story of her transformation and a picture of the beautiful golden dragon she can become at will....

Her Past

Born of an illicit affair between a royal Elvin archer and a dryad maiden. Neither race would accept the half-breed child. She was left at birth under the roots of an old life-elm, the one the Dryads call the Elder. Taken in and raised by an old she-wolf, learning the art of shape shifting early. To this day she prefers the form of the silver wolf.

Found at 5 years old by a reclusive and cruel mage, she continued her education in the art of magic in exchange for food and shelter. After killing the old mage in a particularly nasty fight, she left home at 18 to seek the world, mastering the arts of weaponry.

In her searching of the world, she met her love, Magnus McKane. They married and she bore him a son, Micheal Magnus McKane. Through a cruel game of the Gods, she was torn from Magnus and her life given to Khaos, a minor god, who held her prisoner with his love. She was freed from the God Khaos by Kane Markece, who in return for his favor required her to become his Chylde of Darkness. Sired by him as a 6th generation Gangrel vampire, she adjusted to being undead.  Realizing her love for Magnus had never died, she turned back to him and they remarried, having a daughter, Sarah Rose McKane. She devoted her life to her pride and joy, her son and daughter, and her loving husband, Magnus. 


But their contentment was short lived. Magnus' warring past came back to haunt them, as one of his foot soldiers, an ignorant farm boy, Tradd LaGrae, sought revenge for the death of his friends and comrades. Having been marked by an ancestor of hers long ago, Tradd carried the tainted blood, yet the

interfering 'Were's, in their mischief and sadistic glee, marked him for one of theirs.

An abomination, he walked the earth, an enraged beast and tortured innocent man,

knowing not what he was, nor what he was to become.

But she knew.

Upon contact, the ancestral blood that flowed in his veins, the fruitless

and failed attempt to make him gangrel, cursed her. He in turn sought her death. Something inside

this poor farm boy, sensed what she was, sensed they shared the same blood, sought to

destroy in the hopes of freeing himself.

Through countless battles, wounds untold, in his final agony, he came to her.

And she took him.

Her first chylde.

Magnus and Myrelle live contently in McKane Manor. Magnus, through great efforts and many deaths,

too reign as the God of War. Their children, for safety, reside in the Dryad kingdom. They have not seen their parents for some time, Rhydin not being a safe place for the raising of the young.

Asleep by day, dark death stalking by night, beware.

She is around every corner, atop every building, behind every tree.

She is the graceful exotic beauty of your haunted dreams....

The Web


The web of my soul,

strands like fragile silk,

connecting fated lives,

and love like death,

haunted end before beginning.


Spinning with translucent passion,

opaque and bare, dull pain,

sharp as the slithering

of cold steel

withdrawing from my heart.


Weaving endlessly,

tortured ends repeating,

through time and place,

fated lives mingling still,

in the darkness of dreams.


Clinging moments,

flashbacks of lucidity,

reality dies

and is born again,

and death keeps coming.


Emptiness clinging,

love lingering,

warm lips and soft touches

caught in patterns,

the arms I long for,

held firmly away.


The seeking smile,

the craving warmth,

glimpsed at the edges.

Only ghostly illusion.


The stands weave, fold, spin,

tangled thing.

Burning, tortured yearning,

never realized,

the light endlessly dies.


 Magnus McKane

Tradd LaGrae

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