Viewing Profile -> tom m. riddle
Gods and
Monsters

October 1950. Chilly and gloomy, rainy. Full moon: 25th.

Welcome to Gods and Monsters! We are an au-Riddle Era roleplay with no word count and a short, freeform application.
05.05 In honor of our one year anniversary, the Halloween event is live! Check out the main group thread and the quick guide to locations available for individual threads!

04.30 "Have you been invited to Druella Black's Birthday party at the Black Manor?" Everyone had been invited to her Gods and Monsters themed birthday party. Check out the event rules, the RSVP & costume registry, and the announcement!

04.12 Daily Prophet releases interview with Ministry employee regarding Werewolf Registry.

03.30Jobs claim has undergone revision. Check out the announcement here

03.18 It is officially October! Check out the ANNOUNCEMENT for all the details and important updates! Check out our current poll here.

03.15 First DAILY PROPHET article has been released after the werewolf incident in Hogsmeade!

03.10Congrats Di on your healthy 9 pound baby boy!!

male 30 female 32
pureblood 29 halfblood 18
muggleborn 8 squib 1
muggles 6 total: 62
OCTOBER SPOTLIGHT

Cillian
Kennedy

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character's age : 23
character occupation: DADA Professor
character's gender: male
link to character's applicationt: http://godsrp.jcink.net/index.php?showtopic=469
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your alias: Violet
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Character's sexuality: Asexual
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Joined: 4-July 17
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Last Seen: Today at 07:46 pm
Local Time: May 27 2018, 10:18 PM
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tom m. riddle

halfblood

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Today at 07:46 pm
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How long had it been? Months, by now - oh, how time had flown by. His last direct dealings with Mulciber had been that summer, when word first reached him of the heightened security at St. Mungo’s. That had been <i>before</i>. Before the monster had escaped. Before it had attacked a group of healers and aurors. Before it had made headlines across the country. <p>

<i>Before it had <b>worked</b>.</i><p>

His rage had subsided quickly, after the gathering. Punishing Zabini had done wonders for Tom’s psyche, cleared his head, allowed him to take in the words and suggestions of the others. It had been suggested that the best way to deal with Mulciber would be to cut him off - to deny any association with him, to deny any protections for him, to simply let him flounder on his own and take the heat of the investigation alone. <p>

That wasn’t entirely it. Yes, that had been a part of the path that he had chosen to take - but the punishment had been in his own silence. The others knew when they’d made an error. Even Mulciber had known, before. The silence, the lack of summoning, the lack of… of everything… that was the true punishment, a torture beyond even that which a wand could inflict. It was something deeper, something bigger, something that would force Markos Mulciber to reflect on where he had gone wrong, and to determine what he would do now. <p>

It had been long enough. <p>

Standing in the window of the upper floor study, Tom stared out at the gardens below, hands clasped behind his back as a small, baby boa wrapped and writhed about his arm. The little beast had been with him for weeks, now, and he’d grown quite accustomed to its presence. It had an oddly calming effect, and he exhaled slowly as the call went out, summoning Mulciber to him. <p>

It was traditional for them to meet him in the basement, in the conference room. But that was only for gatherings. In recent weeks, he had taken to meeting here - in a smaller, more controlled setting, one that he hoped would avoid putting them on edge. They were his dearest, oldest friends, after all. <p>

He could hear movement in the house, below. With a slow breath, he turned and made his way to the stately desk at the head of the room, and took his seat, fingers tapping on the top of the table as the door opened. <b>“Ah, Markos. Many months it has been. I trust you have an update since your little… incident…?”</b>


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<div class="ad"><div class="af"><b><i class="fa fa-tags"></i></b> @markos a. mulciber &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;<b><i class="fa fa-pencil"></i></b> Getting Started! </div></div>
<div class="kb">© KB</div>
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May 11 2018, 08:46 PM
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So much dancing - so much merriment. The crowd was unusually mixed, given the hosts and their beliefs, but sadly this was not the time or the place to voice his true feelings on the matter. He was an interesting person, in this environment. Neither Professor Riddle, nor Lord Voldemort, Tom existed as his own entity - something that had barely existed since the last event of this nature, many years before… at Hogwarts. <p>

And this was an oddly freeing notion. <p>

He was not here to keep his Death Eaters in line. He was not here to punish, or threaten, or remind his followers of their place. Nor did he need to so explicitly play up the role of the somber, serious teacher, always careful of what he said and always fearful of what might be heard. He wove expertly through the gathered crowds, making conversation with those he passed and allowing those less familiar with him to question who might be beneath Lucifer’s mask. <p>

But after a short while, he moved away, off to the far side of the space where he could see all - where he could see them, if and when they appeared. Orion Black. Lucretia Prewett. His last interactions with both of them had set him on edge, leaving him with minimal trust and ample amounts of suspicion. <p>

This was not an evening to watch them, of course. This was an evening to be seen. The ring on his finger, proudly displayed; the snake on his shoulder, writhing and slithering proudly across the fabric of his suit; the silver serpent adorning his walking stick. It was all a comment - a declaration of pride, and a dare, to speak out against him at their peril. <p>

While his eyes scanned the room, he spotted other familiar figures. Others, who he hadn’t seen in an age. His gaze bore into them from the edge of the patio, a smirk dancing across his lips. <p>

<center><b>Death Eaters, your ears have burned under the Dark Lord’s gaze.<br>
This is not pre-planned. You should probably bring booze.</b></center>


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<div class="ad"><div class="af"><b><i class="fa fa-tags"></i></b> Death Eaters at the Party &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;<b><i class="fa fa-pencil"></i></b> Come one, Come all </div></div>
<div class="kb">© KB @abraxas c. malfoy@antonin r. dolohov @cygnus r. black @osiris r. avery @rafe s. lestrange </div>
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May 3 2018, 03:58 PM
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Shifting the tone, from confiding in Abraxas Malfoy to determining whether or not Cygnus Black was still worthy of his trust, was hardly a simple affair. He paced the length of the room several times, hands clasped behind his back as a small, red boa writhed and twisted around his arm. The other snakes in the room watched him with mild interest as he paced, giving Abraxas adequate time to get away from the building, to take the most precious possession home… and far away from those who may be… treacherous. <p>

Most did not know about the diary. While it had belonged to him, while it bore the name that he was born with, it rarely came out while in school. And eventually, it had become something more. Still, there were those who might recognize it, should they see it - not for what it had become, but as some small, intimate item of his. Druella Rosier and Orion Black were among those who could, and that made poor, dear Cygnus suspect as well. <p>

Once confident that Malfoy was gone, and the unusual, bird-like scent that followed that peacock everywhere had begun to fade, Tom took his seat at the large desk in the upstairs study. This room was rarely used - or had been, until now. Since his return, his communications with individuals had been limited, and mostly occurred during interactions of chance. Otherwise, he saw them as a group, when they were summoned, and, as a group, they met in the basement. <p>

But the basement had become a place of… well, fear. Zabini’s return to his Master’s good graces had seemed taxing to most, and the stench of that man’s fear and guilt seemed still to linger above the long conference table that filled the lower level of the building. It was perfect, now, for larger gatherings, in which a point needed to be made. For these one-off chats, these individual tasks… yes, this would do nicely.<p>

The call went out, burning with the Dark Lord’s summons. <p>

And Tom sat silently behind the desk, hands twisting and turning idly while the snake worked its way up his one arm and down the other in almost a playful fashion. Such a good, loyal creature - perhaps it, too, could be given a mission someday, when it was a big bigger, a bit older. <p>

The sound of footsteps caused his eyes to raise to the door, and he said softly, <b>“Ah, Cygnus - there you are… come in, come in. We have important matters to discuss.”</b>

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<div class="ad"><div class="af"><b><i class="fa fa-tags"></i></b> @cygnus r. black &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;<b><i class="fa fa-pencil"></i></b> Welcome, dear friend. </div></div>
<div class="kb">© KB</div>
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[/dohtml]
May 1 2018, 07:43 PM
Tom Riddle will be attending this birthday extravaganza. Costume? Yes. If yes: Satan/Lucifer.

Ignatius Prewett will be attending this birthday extravaganza. Costume? Yes. If yes: Hades.
Apr 14 2018, 10:28 AM
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There was something so truly taxing about dealing with the Black family. Even Cygnus, who bore the Mark and served as faithfully as his pride would allow, managed to grate on Tom’s last nerve any time he thought about the dramatics that Druella Rosier had forced into their lives. While Orion and Lucretia Black had once been friends, or as close to them as anyone could ever really get, they were now agents of discord and bearers of Tom’s greatest anxieties. <p>

He had no idea why they were looking into his background - or, if Lucretia was to be believed, why they were looking into the descendants of Salazar Slytherin. He didn’t believe her when she claimed that her appearance at the Gaunts’ home was in no way connected to Orion’s choice in gift - Salazar Slytherin’s letter opener. He didn’t believe her when she said that her motivation for going to Little Hangleton had been purely based on a comment by a madman in Azkaban. <p>

He didn’t believe a single word that came from that slippery woman’s mouth. <p>

No one had ever known his secret. While he had worn his grandfather’s ring with an air of pride, he had never explained it, never given his followers the context. There had been whispers, of course, that the Heir of Slytherin was the one causing the terrible attacks back in their days at Hogwarts - but no one had ever proved it, nor had anyone claimed credit for it. It had all been a part of a bigger picture, a reign of terror that anonymity had only helped to fuel. <p>

But now that the Black family knew… someone else would need to know as well, someone else who could help him to keep Lucretia and Orion and their spouses in check. It was a difficult task, given the prevalence of the Black bloodline in their society. Most of his dear friends were cousins to the Blacks in some manner, and even those that weren’t seemed to strive towards allegiance with them, for it was always best to be aligned with an ancient powerhouse ahead of new blood and unsecured fortunes. <p>

Of course, there was always Abraxas… <p>

There were many things that Tom did not like about Abraxas. He was smug, moreso than most, and he carried himself with an air of being entitled to everything he had. He represented to Tom both the best and the worst traits of a pure-blooded society, but that was what made him the obvious choice. He was proud, and would take this secret with him to his grave, sharing it only with his descendants as needed. And his separation from Cedrella Black… well, it had certainly shattered any particular fondness he may have once held for the family. <p>

Tom paced in the study of the Headquarters - the study, rather than the basement conference room that he usually chose when dealing with the others. This would need to be sold, spun to Abraxas as something special, something priceless, something that would set him and his family above the rest for generations to come. Tom sat behind the desk and sent out the call - but this time, only to one man. <p>

<b>“Abraxas, my old friend,”</b> he said softly as footsteps approached the door. <b>“Come. We have much to discuss.”</b>

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<div class="ad"><div class="af"><b><i class="fa fa-tags"></i></b> @abraxas c. malfoy &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;<b><i class="fa fa-pencil"></i></b> So it begins! </div></div>
<div class="kb">© KB</div>
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