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Hello everyone!
I have this need to just CREATE, CREATE, CREATE.
I want to build an entire world (some of it from closed RPs that I cannot stop thinking about) where we can have multiple characters with unique stories and ambitions.
I would basically supply you with NPCs, and maybe even PCs in different locations. I will have my own 'main' PC to match you, but it is not guaranteed I will be with everyone. But that's where the fun is!
All the characters could definitely meet eventually, but we will not force anything. You can follow your (character's) heart!
I think a rather apt example is how A Song of Ice and Fire plays out.
I wanted to basically look for interest before I started world-weaving a major uni(multi?)verse with complex plots and characters.
I would be up for 5-7 people! Of any kind.
Please note: if sex scenes take place that go past the 'initial stage', you may go in explicit detail in a private thread! You will always come back from the 'fade to black' in the main forum of course!
To give you an idea of the world:
I am deeply in love with a dark, corrupted, gothic world, full of mysterious creatures and beings, and a character I just adore. I will include her in a spoiler, and some descriptions from the past RP, to give you an idea of the kind of writing, and world-building, you will be facing.
But you see, I am super in love with contrasts and many, many genres. We will do fantasy, but we can also incorporate steampunk, cyberpunk, medieval, gothic horror, contrived political plots—whatever your heart desires!
Please note: I will not be the only one creating! Any creative world-building juices you're bringing with you are 100% welcome. Imagine the end result: an expansive, beautiful, creative, completely unique and varied world, created entirely by us! Something that could have only happened with our combination of minds!
First, my previous character:
And here come the descriptions/scenes:
The Athanatos Kingdom, Evening of the Gala
At the edges of the Athanatos kingdom lay a large, foggy lake, its still surface like that of a silver looking-glass, unnerving in its immovability. The fluid always took on the look of quicksilver as the thick, heavy fog settled over the large, generally abandoned forests of The Silver Lake, colloquially known as The Misty Forest, owing to its unnatural grimness and heavy, relentless, never-ending mist. In the middle of the silver waters jutted out a little island covered in black dirt, devoid of everything but one large, perpetually leafless tree, seemingly dead in all but one form: it kept growing in size, as if it hungered to block out the horizon and overtake the whole world with its darkness, with its elongated, twisted branches, extending like the half broken fingers of a greedy witch. Along a path that rose from the edge of the island, just a few feet from the Melancholy Tree, were black roses that grew in large multitudes, making the black dirt even darker. The path climbed up the rocky island, something like obsidian in its appearance, up the little hill atop which resided a tall, stone-carved, medieval looking, strangely thin and twisty ancient circular tower. The tops were covered in something like thatch the colour of raven feathers, with little extensions that provided cover and protection in all directions, but it gave the roof an eldritch, monstrous look, as if a multi-limbed creature rested atop this menacing structure.
Along its tall, domineering walls were the odd window here and there, but the tower was structured very carefully and for a very specific purpose. Other than little alcoves along the walls that extended from the spiral staircase, it looked as if this whole place was made to house a thin spine of steps that took its travellers all the way to the top, some impressively and horrifyingly high altitudes without any railings, as if it challenged travellers to come and break their necks. Regardless, the group of three never left the top, which meant they never had to deal with such risks. It was their followers whom had to show courage as they ascended to receive their blessings. Today, however, there would be no blessings or curses bestowed upon any followers. Today the sisters collected their strange group to perform an entirely all too important endeavour.
The Three Sisters of the Athanatos Kingdom. Ah, they were creatures of legend, tales spun about them throughout all the kingdoms… if you went below ground enough, to areas deep and dark and full of hatred. Where desperation led the poor and the shamed, the name was whispered in hushed tones amongst the angry and afraid alike. The Three Sisters. The Three Witches. The Dark Crones. The Eldritch Triad. They came in many forms, as did their rumoured appearances. Skinny, bony, twisted, ugly, horrific, overweight, three heads attached to one body, beautiful temptresses, like goddesses from the grave…
But their truth was only known to them and a select few, as well as the protectors of the Koraki Crown. The true source of power for the king and queen of Athanatos. In their circle of 12 powerful sorcerers, they had started training Allara since a very young age, so she may complete their circle as their thirteenth. She would fulfil her destiny, her true purpose, and bring forth the era they were all promised. A world of darkness and power, where every single bastard who dared to humiliate the Korakis and banish them from all political and recreational interactions would rue the day they looked down their nose upon the family of necromancers. Did they not know better? What kind of fools anger dark sorcerers?
Regardless of reason or logic, darkness reigned supreme when hatred and rage stirred in the hearts of mortals. With such easy temptations available, Chrysalia and Cedrick did what was necessary. With their plot in motion, the wheels of power turning in their favour, the entire family put on a show of high society and elegance, the star pupil delivering in every perfect step she took, far away in the land of colour and light, as the sisters saw through their large, translucent orb, the shadows that usually filled it now scattered to the bottoms and to the sides to give them a direct view of her work. Keats made such a connection even easier, as a long time ago, he was taken to an alley…
8 years ago, Athanatos Kingdom, Near The Crescent City
Sickle Town, The Corn and Scarecrow Pub
"Won't your parents find out?" Keats asked in a huff, his tone fearful and excited all at once. Allara's dazzling pink gaze, full of dancing stars of madness and glee, snapped in his direction. The two were in a little room in the back rooms of the pub, an inn of some sort, and the young couple loved going there to destress and to spend their time in passionate embraces, fuelled by blood-wine and purple and blue spirit drinks, leaving them in a heady stupor, their senses numbed and turned up to a thousand all at once. In her embrace, Keats was too sober to quell his nerves, and his love looked frustrated, to say the least.
"Keats, I picked you because you had a deep, wise soul and the right words to make my heart tingle," Allara said, her face relatively unchanged since her eighteen years of age. She may have looked slightly younger, and she was definitely less powerful and in control, but her mere presence vibrated the world around it with her magic, the shadows reaching towards her wherever she went. She was like a beacon, all that power held within a young person such as her far too early in her life. Despite her gifts since her early childhood, and her immense ability since a young age, her expedited training made her more like an unstable nuclear reactor than a fully controlled source of energy.
And that was the exact reason why a voice had whispered in Keats's head, calling his name like a siren across the waves. He was put off and disturbed, trying to ignore it, but it kept calling and calling him, until he sighed and pulled away from her.
"You're right, yes, I know, they've never found us here, and they never will," he said, looking up at her irritated face. Even when her features were twisted into an expression that easily struck fear into any onlooker, he found her to be beautiful and intangible, as if someone so enchanting could not possibly be real.
"I just need to take a piss and clear my thoughts with some fresh air. Please wait here for me, I don't want you to see me do that. I will be back as soon as possible… you made it a bit difficult to do what needs to be done, so, apologies if I keep you waiting for some time." With that, he left the warm, fire-lit bedroom to the dark, slightly chilly hallway, sounds of giggles and laughter filling the corridor from the different rooms and the adjacent tavern, some doors softly emitting the songs of whores and their clients, doped up on so much mead and wine they could not tell just how bored she or he was. Despite the culture of 'lust is good, love is good, flesh is good, restraint is for the weak' that was commonly accepted in Athanatos, some men and women were simply not as good as others.
Keats finally found his way out the back door of the little inn area and stepped out into the grey early evening, pulling out a smokable paper rolled up into a little stick that contained some kind of purple herbs that only grew in the Athanatos kingdom. They provided calm and an ability to clear one's mind of psychic influences. A powerful wizard or sorceress could bypass such meager protection magic, but he was hoping it would stop the constant noise. As he exhaled a puff of blue smoke, he found a secluded enough spot against the back wall of the tavern and began trying to take a piss, when a soft female's voice caressed his ear from behind, causing him to jump nearly out of his skin.
"By Nagash!" Keats's trickle halted in its tracks as he turned around to face the source of the voice right by his ear, calling his name. Dropping his cigarette as he turned around, he saw no one there. He frowned, gazed down at the joint that was still smoking and stomped it out as it began to drizzle around him lightly, as it had been, on and off, all day. Whatever source of light provided Athanatos with day—was it even still really the sun or some other cosmic (or arcane) lamp?—was now fading away, leaving the world in a darker gloom than before. Keats tried to settle his nerves, but just as he was about to accept he was hallucinating on opioids, a figure appeared before him. His heart stopped.
Standing at the treeline separating the town from The Forest of Shades was a strange, malnourished, grey-skinned woman with dark hair so long it touched her knees. It was soft but somehow chaos itself, and it gave her entirely black eyes an even more ominous look. She was skin and bones, dressed in black lace and silk that covered her scarred arms, thick scars the colour of ink, but nothing worked to hide the three eyes on both of her cheeks. One on either of her mandibles, the others closer to her lips, and the last two right under her eye sockets. Each eye except for the ones in her eye sockets moved on its own accord, twisting and turning and glancing about like the paranoid optics of a monster guarding its lair. It was all the more twisted as her long nose ended into nothingness, horrendous exposed nasal apertures, and her lips were painted—or naturally?—black. However, as she smiled, sharp rows of teeth gleamed in the dim light of the town's torches and whatever light was left behind the storm clouds.
In a blink, the thin, terrifying figure was right before him, shadows overlapping her body from behind as she seemed to manifest out of gloom itself. She smiled in greeting, looking so innocuous and pleasant, and yet the most sinister look was clearly emblazoned into her two most humanoid eyes.
"Keatsie boy… ah, sweet boy~" she said, her voice coming out like the cackle of maniacs held in the subterranean cells of a haunted asylum, and yet it sounded as sweet as a melody played on white keys, drifting in from the other room alongside the warmth of a fireplace, where his love would play her tunes, her spine erect and her fingers agile. He hated the feeling of the creature's proximity, like laughter of sinners and the damned licking his bare skin, his arms, his face… he hated her presence, he hated everything about this moment, where it felt like all the light of the world had been stolen by her, nothing but her and him locked in this fateful moment of disaster and calamity.
"You will do as we tell you to," she said, the line carrying more weight than a castle lumped onto his back, "exactly as we tell you to do it."
"W… we?" he asked, and he instantly wished he hadn't. He was not even sure he really spoke, it felt as if he was completely frozen, nothing but frantic thoughts escaping into her receptive, eager, malicious mind. She gave him a toothless smile, lips sealed shut as she turned a sultry, demonic gaze at him, and he saw them. The first one held the skin of moss and dead grass, mushrooms of purple and brown growing out of her head. Her lips were painted black, just like her sister's, and she had the strangest antlers growing out of her skull, seemingly shaped out of bone, or the branches of a dying ash tree. Her eyes were infinite hollows that made him feel as if he was falling into a bottomless pit when he had the misfortune of looking at her.
The thing that caught his breath in his throat, however, was her.
She looked exactly like her.
The third woman, gazing at him from the treeline, was a living, breathing replica of the love of his life. Except perhaps older. Pink eyes and red hair that drew him in. For a moment, as the light shifted, he could have sworn he saw her bones—a black skeleton faintly revealed behind her skin, but when lightning struck above, it was gone once more. On her shoulder rested a raven with the skull of a basilisk and strange, octopus-like tentacles sprouted from its sides, right beneath its wings. It had the tail of a scorpion that darted about this way and that.
"Yes, my dearest Keats. We." The first damnable arrival giggled, like a knife against a sharpening stone, and he felt himself losing his footing. He thought he had started to drown.
Present Day, The Athanatos Kingdom, Evening of the Gala
The trio of horrific, powerful… demigods? Necromancers? No one was quite sure. They were revered as the most powerful beings on the mortal plane of the Athanatos kingdom, three wise sisters that no one dared cross, began the ritual of blood they had prepared to help Allara ascend to new levels of power and glory.
With their quarries stripped and shackled, their devoted followers formed a circle around the binding platform, where the shaking, naked man and woman were surrounded by candles, a bowl on either side of the raised marble, to collect the blood they were about to feed into the hungry receptacles, eager to fuel the unsuspecting Allara Koraki. The victims squirmed and screamed, their horror echoing against the grey walls and vaulted ceilings that soared high above them, even higher than the tower appeared on the outside. The crucified monster on one wall loomed above them, something straight out of a horror story, unidentifiable with its limbs torn and its dried blood coating the background of crow feathers, broken bones, human skulls…
On the other wall a tapestry made of human flesh, covered in obscene depictions of undeath, war, pestilence, starvation and pure horror completed the scene of occult rituals and macabre practices. At the head of the circle, right before the black marble platform that supported the altar dedicated to the Death God Morte and his Disciples, venerating Nagash, The Undying King, stood the three sisters, their arms raised in prayer as they sought out powers beyond the mortal realm. Slowly, from above, shadows began to descend on the party, snuffing out every black, crimson and violet candle that lit up the putrid atmosphere.
Out of the circle, on the opposite end of the sisters, stepped up a woman of short, playfully curly black hair, obsidian skin and bright purple eyes, her body short and relatively slim with a few natural curves, hidden by the oversized black cloak draped over her figure. From her belt she pulled out a curved dagger made out of a fang of a hydra—extracted while the beast was still alive—and stabbed it down right into the man's heart, followed by a deep stab into the woman's. The two screamed until they stilled before her.
As the shadows grew blindingly darker and murkier, newfound agonised screams began to echo against the cold circular chamber walls as the shadows transformed into horrid beings of spirit-vampirism and murder, shades that resembled a multi-armed humanoid with mouths for a face. Each one used its six claws to attack and devour a cult follower, an open feast provided by The Sisters to the God of Death.
A few moments later, silence descended upon the Crones and the one lone woman who initiated the ritual. Gazing upon each other in acknowledgement, they began to gather all the blood splattered across marble and wood in silence. As the life-giving fluid began to overflow in the large bowls placed on the sides of the ritual bed, the woman guided it towards the divination sphere, where the young redhead was walking with the Bellerose boy and smiling warmly, and with one swift motion, as the liquids began to glow a deep purple, the four women shot it directly at Allara's heart.
"Go now, Erzulie," the three sisters echoed in a murmur as the purple-eyed woman nodded in silence, turning around from them and towards the window, where she put her hands together in preparation to cast a spell…
Second, reference to my lore:
This is a website I constructed a long time ago where I basically gathered as much as 98% (or more) of lore I've constructed over the years. Be it mythology that grew from roleplaying, or something I wrote for a story or even a novel and wanted to use with others... it's in there.
You can check the rules for vampires, demons, etc.
These are the types of beings I prefer and love, but we don't have to stick to them. New lore can always be born!
With that available to you, if you need to know anything extra about me, please refer to my request thread.
Please feel free to use this character sheet to fill out your character's information (if you prefer, DM me your filled in sheet)!
Name:
Age:
Height:
Build:
Race/Species:
Gender:
Appearance:
Occupation:
Personality:
Biography:
Weapons:
Powers/Abilities:
Extras:
Please note: you may keep some information hidden from others if you want them to find it out later on through the story!
Moreover, if you are unsure about any details, do not hesitate to DM me to ask for help, I will answer whenever I have time!
We can start once we have 5 people, but 2 more can join even after we've already started!
If you are interested, please 'register' your formal sign-up by making a post consisting of:
The name you'd like us to refer to you by OOC.
Your pronouns if you'd like to share them.
If you feel like it, a brief introduction and maybe why you want to join this.
Any extra details you'd like us to know.
I hope to see you soon, travellers!
-- Vinny.
EDIT: Added extra information about starting clauses, character sheet template and some extra, helpful info.
EDIT 2: I added references to my original lore on creatures (vampires, demons, etc) and some links to worlds and other things I created that familiarise you even more with what I write and create. Enjoy. :)
I have this need to just CREATE, CREATE, CREATE.
I want to build an entire world (some of it from closed RPs that I cannot stop thinking about) where we can have multiple characters with unique stories and ambitions.
I would basically supply you with NPCs, and maybe even PCs in different locations. I will have my own 'main' PC to match you, but it is not guaranteed I will be with everyone. But that's where the fun is!
All the characters could definitely meet eventually, but we will not force anything. You can follow your (character's) heart!
I think a rather apt example is how A Song of Ice and Fire plays out.
I wanted to basically look for interest before I started world-weaving a major uni(multi?)verse with complex plots and characters.
I would be up for 5-7 people! Of any kind.
Please note: if sex scenes take place that go past the 'initial stage', you may go in explicit detail in a private thread! You will always come back from the 'fade to black' in the main forum of course!
To give you an idea of the world:
I am deeply in love with a dark, corrupted, gothic world, full of mysterious creatures and beings, and a character I just adore. I will include her in a spoiler, and some descriptions from the past RP, to give you an idea of the kind of writing, and world-building, you will be facing.
But you see, I am super in love with contrasts and many, many genres. We will do fantasy, but we can also incorporate steampunk, cyberpunk, medieval, gothic horror, contrived political plots—whatever your heart desires!
Please note: I will not be the only one creating! Any creative world-building juices you're bringing with you are 100% welcome. Imagine the end result: an expansive, beautiful, creative, completely unique and varied world, created entirely by us! Something that could have only happened with our combination of minds!
First, my previous character:
Name: Allara Venerise Koraki
Age: 26
Height: 6 ft/182 cm.
Build: Slim and fit with some natural curves.
Race/Species: Human.
Gender: Female.
Occupation: Princess.
Appearance: Deep red/auburn hair with black undertones, pale cream skin, sharp features.
Personality: Presents herself as calm, collected and reserved, with brilliant, chaotic, dazzling crazy eyes that can enchant anyone who looks at them. Has a gentle, melodic voice, a wild smile, and she tends to display a certain hunger and thirst for life in a form of excitement that seems... otherworldly. Has a very sultry aura around her, and appearing as a very sexual being seems very easy for her. In secret, she can really lose her temper, has a disdain for morons and can be very impatient with them. Extremely self-reliant, independent, clever and cunning. Talented actress. Almost intimidatingly good at the things she can do, because she was raised to be.
Biography: Born to a family of powerful, hateful necromancers, she grew bored of their constant jealousy and pettiness. She outgrew her siblings-an older sister obsessed with the rival house's eldest son, a younger brother who seems obsessed with controlling, or domesticating? (no one knows) ravens and crows and birds of prey. She loves the dreary, cold, misty lands she calls home, and she prefers the company of her undead minions over that of living, warm beings. Due to her uprbringing, she grew to be emotionally distant, cold and manipulative, keeping up barriers between her and her family. The only really good thing she shares with her family is practising necromancy.
Weapons: A little shadow-poisoned dagger tipped with some basilisk venom for some extra oomph.
Powers/Abilities: Necromancy, dark arts, potions/poisons.
Extras: Has a pet undead bat called Keats that holds the spirit of her ex-love who killed himself after a massacre, because his gentle poet's spirit could not take what his madness drove him to do.
Age: 26
Height: 6 ft/182 cm.
Build: Slim and fit with some natural curves.
Race/Species: Human.
Gender: Female.
Occupation: Princess.
Appearance: Deep red/auburn hair with black undertones, pale cream skin, sharp features.
Personality: Presents herself as calm, collected and reserved, with brilliant, chaotic, dazzling crazy eyes that can enchant anyone who looks at them. Has a gentle, melodic voice, a wild smile, and she tends to display a certain hunger and thirst for life in a form of excitement that seems... otherworldly. Has a very sultry aura around her, and appearing as a very sexual being seems very easy for her. In secret, she can really lose her temper, has a disdain for morons and can be very impatient with them. Extremely self-reliant, independent, clever and cunning. Talented actress. Almost intimidatingly good at the things she can do, because she was raised to be.
Biography: Born to a family of powerful, hateful necromancers, she grew bored of their constant jealousy and pettiness. She outgrew her siblings-an older sister obsessed with the rival house's eldest son, a younger brother who seems obsessed with controlling, or domesticating? (no one knows) ravens and crows and birds of prey. She loves the dreary, cold, misty lands she calls home, and she prefers the company of her undead minions over that of living, warm beings. Due to her uprbringing, she grew to be emotionally distant, cold and manipulative, keeping up barriers between her and her family. The only really good thing she shares with her family is practising necromancy.
Weapons: A little shadow-poisoned dagger tipped with some basilisk venom for some extra oomph.
Powers/Abilities: Necromancy, dark arts, potions/poisons.
Extras: Has a pet undead bat called Keats that holds the spirit of her ex-love who killed himself after a massacre, because his gentle poet's spirit could not take what his madness drove him to do.
And here come the descriptions/scenes:
The Athanatos Kingdom, Evening of the Gala
At the edges of the Athanatos kingdom lay a large, foggy lake, its still surface like that of a silver looking-glass, unnerving in its immovability. The fluid always took on the look of quicksilver as the thick, heavy fog settled over the large, generally abandoned forests of The Silver Lake, colloquially known as The Misty Forest, owing to its unnatural grimness and heavy, relentless, never-ending mist. In the middle of the silver waters jutted out a little island covered in black dirt, devoid of everything but one large, perpetually leafless tree, seemingly dead in all but one form: it kept growing in size, as if it hungered to block out the horizon and overtake the whole world with its darkness, with its elongated, twisted branches, extending like the half broken fingers of a greedy witch. Along a path that rose from the edge of the island, just a few feet from the Melancholy Tree, were black roses that grew in large multitudes, making the black dirt even darker. The path climbed up the rocky island, something like obsidian in its appearance, up the little hill atop which resided a tall, stone-carved, medieval looking, strangely thin and twisty ancient circular tower. The tops were covered in something like thatch the colour of raven feathers, with little extensions that provided cover and protection in all directions, but it gave the roof an eldritch, monstrous look, as if a multi-limbed creature rested atop this menacing structure.
Along its tall, domineering walls were the odd window here and there, but the tower was structured very carefully and for a very specific purpose. Other than little alcoves along the walls that extended from the spiral staircase, it looked as if this whole place was made to house a thin spine of steps that took its travellers all the way to the top, some impressively and horrifyingly high altitudes without any railings, as if it challenged travellers to come and break their necks. Regardless, the group of three never left the top, which meant they never had to deal with such risks. It was their followers whom had to show courage as they ascended to receive their blessings. Today, however, there would be no blessings or curses bestowed upon any followers. Today the sisters collected their strange group to perform an entirely all too important endeavour.
The Three Sisters of the Athanatos Kingdom. Ah, they were creatures of legend, tales spun about them throughout all the kingdoms… if you went below ground enough, to areas deep and dark and full of hatred. Where desperation led the poor and the shamed, the name was whispered in hushed tones amongst the angry and afraid alike. The Three Sisters. The Three Witches. The Dark Crones. The Eldritch Triad. They came in many forms, as did their rumoured appearances. Skinny, bony, twisted, ugly, horrific, overweight, three heads attached to one body, beautiful temptresses, like goddesses from the grave…
But their truth was only known to them and a select few, as well as the protectors of the Koraki Crown. The true source of power for the king and queen of Athanatos. In their circle of 12 powerful sorcerers, they had started training Allara since a very young age, so she may complete their circle as their thirteenth. She would fulfil her destiny, her true purpose, and bring forth the era they were all promised. A world of darkness and power, where every single bastard who dared to humiliate the Korakis and banish them from all political and recreational interactions would rue the day they looked down their nose upon the family of necromancers. Did they not know better? What kind of fools anger dark sorcerers?
Regardless of reason or logic, darkness reigned supreme when hatred and rage stirred in the hearts of mortals. With such easy temptations available, Chrysalia and Cedrick did what was necessary. With their plot in motion, the wheels of power turning in their favour, the entire family put on a show of high society and elegance, the star pupil delivering in every perfect step she took, far away in the land of colour and light, as the sisters saw through their large, translucent orb, the shadows that usually filled it now scattered to the bottoms and to the sides to give them a direct view of her work. Keats made such a connection even easier, as a long time ago, he was taken to an alley…
8 years ago, Athanatos Kingdom, Near The Crescent City
Sickle Town, The Corn and Scarecrow Pub
"Won't your parents find out?" Keats asked in a huff, his tone fearful and excited all at once. Allara's dazzling pink gaze, full of dancing stars of madness and glee, snapped in his direction. The two were in a little room in the back rooms of the pub, an inn of some sort, and the young couple loved going there to destress and to spend their time in passionate embraces, fuelled by blood-wine and purple and blue spirit drinks, leaving them in a heady stupor, their senses numbed and turned up to a thousand all at once. In her embrace, Keats was too sober to quell his nerves, and his love looked frustrated, to say the least.
"Keats, I picked you because you had a deep, wise soul and the right words to make my heart tingle," Allara said, her face relatively unchanged since her eighteen years of age. She may have looked slightly younger, and she was definitely less powerful and in control, but her mere presence vibrated the world around it with her magic, the shadows reaching towards her wherever she went. She was like a beacon, all that power held within a young person such as her far too early in her life. Despite her gifts since her early childhood, and her immense ability since a young age, her expedited training made her more like an unstable nuclear reactor than a fully controlled source of energy.
And that was the exact reason why a voice had whispered in Keats's head, calling his name like a siren across the waves. He was put off and disturbed, trying to ignore it, but it kept calling and calling him, until he sighed and pulled away from her.
"You're right, yes, I know, they've never found us here, and they never will," he said, looking up at her irritated face. Even when her features were twisted into an expression that easily struck fear into any onlooker, he found her to be beautiful and intangible, as if someone so enchanting could not possibly be real.
"I just need to take a piss and clear my thoughts with some fresh air. Please wait here for me, I don't want you to see me do that. I will be back as soon as possible… you made it a bit difficult to do what needs to be done, so, apologies if I keep you waiting for some time." With that, he left the warm, fire-lit bedroom to the dark, slightly chilly hallway, sounds of giggles and laughter filling the corridor from the different rooms and the adjacent tavern, some doors softly emitting the songs of whores and their clients, doped up on so much mead and wine they could not tell just how bored she or he was. Despite the culture of 'lust is good, love is good, flesh is good, restraint is for the weak' that was commonly accepted in Athanatos, some men and women were simply not as good as others.
Keats finally found his way out the back door of the little inn area and stepped out into the grey early evening, pulling out a smokable paper rolled up into a little stick that contained some kind of purple herbs that only grew in the Athanatos kingdom. They provided calm and an ability to clear one's mind of psychic influences. A powerful wizard or sorceress could bypass such meager protection magic, but he was hoping it would stop the constant noise. As he exhaled a puff of blue smoke, he found a secluded enough spot against the back wall of the tavern and began trying to take a piss, when a soft female's voice caressed his ear from behind, causing him to jump nearly out of his skin.
"By Nagash!" Keats's trickle halted in its tracks as he turned around to face the source of the voice right by his ear, calling his name. Dropping his cigarette as he turned around, he saw no one there. He frowned, gazed down at the joint that was still smoking and stomped it out as it began to drizzle around him lightly, as it had been, on and off, all day. Whatever source of light provided Athanatos with day—was it even still really the sun or some other cosmic (or arcane) lamp?—was now fading away, leaving the world in a darker gloom than before. Keats tried to settle his nerves, but just as he was about to accept he was hallucinating on opioids, a figure appeared before him. His heart stopped.
Standing at the treeline separating the town from The Forest of Shades was a strange, malnourished, grey-skinned woman with dark hair so long it touched her knees. It was soft but somehow chaos itself, and it gave her entirely black eyes an even more ominous look. She was skin and bones, dressed in black lace and silk that covered her scarred arms, thick scars the colour of ink, but nothing worked to hide the three eyes on both of her cheeks. One on either of her mandibles, the others closer to her lips, and the last two right under her eye sockets. Each eye except for the ones in her eye sockets moved on its own accord, twisting and turning and glancing about like the paranoid optics of a monster guarding its lair. It was all the more twisted as her long nose ended into nothingness, horrendous exposed nasal apertures, and her lips were painted—or naturally?—black. However, as she smiled, sharp rows of teeth gleamed in the dim light of the town's torches and whatever light was left behind the storm clouds.
In a blink, the thin, terrifying figure was right before him, shadows overlapping her body from behind as she seemed to manifest out of gloom itself. She smiled in greeting, looking so innocuous and pleasant, and yet the most sinister look was clearly emblazoned into her two most humanoid eyes.
"Keatsie boy… ah, sweet boy~" she said, her voice coming out like the cackle of maniacs held in the subterranean cells of a haunted asylum, and yet it sounded as sweet as a melody played on white keys, drifting in from the other room alongside the warmth of a fireplace, where his love would play her tunes, her spine erect and her fingers agile. He hated the feeling of the creature's proximity, like laughter of sinners and the damned licking his bare skin, his arms, his face… he hated her presence, he hated everything about this moment, where it felt like all the light of the world had been stolen by her, nothing but her and him locked in this fateful moment of disaster and calamity.
"You will do as we tell you to," she said, the line carrying more weight than a castle lumped onto his back, "exactly as we tell you to do it."
"W… we?" he asked, and he instantly wished he hadn't. He was not even sure he really spoke, it felt as if he was completely frozen, nothing but frantic thoughts escaping into her receptive, eager, malicious mind. She gave him a toothless smile, lips sealed shut as she turned a sultry, demonic gaze at him, and he saw them. The first one held the skin of moss and dead grass, mushrooms of purple and brown growing out of her head. Her lips were painted black, just like her sister's, and she had the strangest antlers growing out of her skull, seemingly shaped out of bone, or the branches of a dying ash tree. Her eyes were infinite hollows that made him feel as if he was falling into a bottomless pit when he had the misfortune of looking at her.
The thing that caught his breath in his throat, however, was her.
She looked exactly like her.
The third woman, gazing at him from the treeline, was a living, breathing replica of the love of his life. Except perhaps older. Pink eyes and red hair that drew him in. For a moment, as the light shifted, he could have sworn he saw her bones—a black skeleton faintly revealed behind her skin, but when lightning struck above, it was gone once more. On her shoulder rested a raven with the skull of a basilisk and strange, octopus-like tentacles sprouted from its sides, right beneath its wings. It had the tail of a scorpion that darted about this way and that.
"Yes, my dearest Keats. We." The first damnable arrival giggled, like a knife against a sharpening stone, and he felt himself losing his footing. He thought he had started to drown.
Present Day, The Athanatos Kingdom, Evening of the Gala
The trio of horrific, powerful… demigods? Necromancers? No one was quite sure. They were revered as the most powerful beings on the mortal plane of the Athanatos kingdom, three wise sisters that no one dared cross, began the ritual of blood they had prepared to help Allara ascend to new levels of power and glory.
With their quarries stripped and shackled, their devoted followers formed a circle around the binding platform, where the shaking, naked man and woman were surrounded by candles, a bowl on either side of the raised marble, to collect the blood they were about to feed into the hungry receptacles, eager to fuel the unsuspecting Allara Koraki. The victims squirmed and screamed, their horror echoing against the grey walls and vaulted ceilings that soared high above them, even higher than the tower appeared on the outside. The crucified monster on one wall loomed above them, something straight out of a horror story, unidentifiable with its limbs torn and its dried blood coating the background of crow feathers, broken bones, human skulls…
On the other wall a tapestry made of human flesh, covered in obscene depictions of undeath, war, pestilence, starvation and pure horror completed the scene of occult rituals and macabre practices. At the head of the circle, right before the black marble platform that supported the altar dedicated to the Death God Morte and his Disciples, venerating Nagash, The Undying King, stood the three sisters, their arms raised in prayer as they sought out powers beyond the mortal realm. Slowly, from above, shadows began to descend on the party, snuffing out every black, crimson and violet candle that lit up the putrid atmosphere.
Out of the circle, on the opposite end of the sisters, stepped up a woman of short, playfully curly black hair, obsidian skin and bright purple eyes, her body short and relatively slim with a few natural curves, hidden by the oversized black cloak draped over her figure. From her belt she pulled out a curved dagger made out of a fang of a hydra—extracted while the beast was still alive—and stabbed it down right into the man's heart, followed by a deep stab into the woman's. The two screamed until they stilled before her.
As the shadows grew blindingly darker and murkier, newfound agonised screams began to echo against the cold circular chamber walls as the shadows transformed into horrid beings of spirit-vampirism and murder, shades that resembled a multi-armed humanoid with mouths for a face. Each one used its six claws to attack and devour a cult follower, an open feast provided by The Sisters to the God of Death.
A few moments later, silence descended upon the Crones and the one lone woman who initiated the ritual. Gazing upon each other in acknowledgement, they began to gather all the blood splattered across marble and wood in silence. As the life-giving fluid began to overflow in the large bowls placed on the sides of the ritual bed, the woman guided it towards the divination sphere, where the young redhead was walking with the Bellerose boy and smiling warmly, and with one swift motion, as the liquids began to glow a deep purple, the four women shot it directly at Allara's heart.
"Go now, Erzulie," the three sisters echoed in a murmur as the purple-eyed woman nodded in silence, turning around from them and towards the window, where she put her hands together in preparation to cast a spell…
Second, reference to my lore:
This is a website I constructed a long time ago where I basically gathered as much as 98% (or more) of lore I've constructed over the years. Be it mythology that grew from roleplaying, or something I wrote for a story or even a novel and wanted to use with others... it's in there.
You can check the rules for vampires, demons, etc.
These are the types of beings I prefer and love, but we don't have to stick to them. New lore can always be born!
With that available to you, if you need to know anything extra about me, please refer to my request thread.
Please feel free to use this character sheet to fill out your character's information (if you prefer, DM me your filled in sheet)!
Character Sheet
Name:
Age:
Height:
Build:
Race/Species:
Gender:
Appearance:
Occupation:
Personality:
Biography:
Weapons:
Powers/Abilities:
Extras:
Please note: you may keep some information hidden from others if you want them to find it out later on through the story!
Moreover, if you are unsure about any details, do not hesitate to DM me to ask for help, I will answer whenever I have time!
We can start once we have 5 people, but 2 more can join even after we've already started!
If you are interested, please 'register' your formal sign-up by making a post consisting of:
The name you'd like us to refer to you by OOC.
Your pronouns if you'd like to share them.
If you feel like it, a brief introduction and maybe why you want to join this.
Any extra details you'd like us to know.
I hope to see you soon, travellers!
-- Vinny.
EDIT: Added extra information about starting clauses, character sheet template and some extra, helpful info.
EDIT 2: I added references to my original lore on creatures (vampires, demons, etc) and some links to worlds and other things I created that familiarise you even more with what I write and create. Enjoy. :)
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