Q: What's with this reserved crap?
A: The "reserved" spots are specifically for people who were previously a part of this game.Here's where the idea blossoms:
A mysterious man appears in the life of a very troubled young woman. He travels with a wooden cart that opens for a small store front but his wares are very strange- colourful fireflies captured in strangely but beautifully crafted glass jars. And though he seems odd, he is very pleasant to be around and quite friendly. The man promises to help her safely reach her destination, despite her telling him she isn't even sure of where it is she wants to go. As they travel together, she begins to notice strange and mystical things, their journey becoming more thrilling and magical by the second as she learns more about her past. With this man by her side, she starts to come at peace with herself and with the world and starts to realize not much is known about her companion. When she truly opens her eyes, she realizes that this man is no ordinary man, but the soul-devouring god himself, delivering her to the realm of darkness. The fireflies collected within his jars are souls. Despite being fearful of that dark realm, she decides to trust herself in the hands of this man, he having become quite taken by her soul and openly fond of it. In return for collecting her soul, he grants her one wish.
There will be several other story lines intertwined within the main idea, some additional story lines planned are mentioned under the character skeletons.The pairings and quick-look availability:
The Wayward Soul The God of Darkness
- The God's Pet
Nightmare Twin 1
The Rat Prince Twin 2
Basilisk The Masked One
The Banshee - The Damned Soul
The Innocent Soul -
The CharmerHere are the characters planned:
The Ferryman - TAKEN - OCTOPUSDREAMS
Name: Talt [Pronounced like 'salt' but with a 't' rather than an 's']
Age: Ancient/Unknown; Appears to be in early twentiesTalt is a peculiar being and bridges the gap between life and death. He ferries souls to the dark realm. It is said that in exchange for one's soul, he will grant a wish- however he doesn't offer just any body this deal, being a collector of souls he finds particularly enchanting. He travels the human realm with a wagon, carting around various glass jars and bottles containing enchanting fireflies.
The Wayward Soul - TAKEN - DANCING FLOWER
Name: Mary K. Pound
Age: mid teens-late teensWicked from birth, she is a cold blooded killer. However, having forgotten her malicious past, she does not understand who she is or where she is going in life. She doesn't seem to find any direction until a man with strange wares stumbles upon her. She joins him in his travels, finding that the world becomes more and more peculiar the longer she is with him.
Growing up, Mary was always a curious and smart child, who often challenged her mother's patience with her constant exploration of their house and yard outside. When allowed to wander off without disruption, she found herself enthralled with living and dead animals since she wanted to know how they worked under the skin. Her need for knowledge soon prompted her to catch a few before performing on them with knives stolen from the kitchen after she realized hands and teeth were not suitable for the task of ripping things open. To her surprise, small cries of pain did not cause any remorse in her mind so she always continued continued slowly and methodically with cutting up their little bodies or burning them alive. She found it was much more amusing, in fact, for them to remain alive as long as possible during her knife play. Her desire to inflict pain caused her mother to live in fear all the time since she was ashamed of creating such a monster. An abomination.
But mothering instinct compelled her to try an protect the child she loved with all her heart so she brought her daughter stray cats, dogs, or anything she could find that would not be missed as sacrifices to help fulfill the need. The neighbors began to complain of the missing animals and pets. Some thought it was some type of wolf or predator in the midst. That was when the night watch started, and it became more difficult to acquire bodies. Time between her playing became longer and longer since her mother could not produce anything for her daughter. Mary's violent nature erupted on a neighboring girl, who came over to play, and she nearly claimed her life until her mother managed to walk in to stop her. Mary did not appear shock to be caught and attempted to continue in her work until the knife was wrestled from her little hands.
They let the mutilated girl on the floor and made a run for it before anyone could find out what happened since they would likely figure out the connection between the girl and the disappearing animals. It appeared as if her mother knew this would happen eventually, and she knew of a place where people like her daughter would be protected and hidden. They walked for hours and then days until they were far away from their home. Far away from anything familiar. Finally, they arrived at a cave with where an uniformed man came up as if expecting them. In his hand was a sword, which he did not hesitate to use, running it directly through her mother's stomach. Mary did not cry. Instead, she reached down to bite her mother's finger off to keep as a reminder of her for the rest of her life.
She was taken under the wing of the insane cult, who honed her skills under its strict regime of murderers. Under its hand, she was allowed to move around the country to help wage war on the defenseless and those who fought back. It did not take long for her name to become whispered in fear. The name Kiss was given to her due to the habit of kissing her victims on the forehead before delivering the killing blow. Now older, she understood that she was hurting people and people hated her, but it did not bother in the least. Their fear intoxicated her almost as much as the screams or pathetic attempts to protect their families. No one was safe from her. Not man, woman, child, baby, or animals. Pretty soon, her mentor the general who took her in was killed by her hand own, and she took over the army created by him. For a long time, she was a dark force of uncontrolled violence until something happened to her. . .
Now, she has been walking for a long time without knowing where she intends to go or what she is supposed to do. Everything seems different yet the unchanged at the same time. Time no longer means anything to her. She does not know anything more than her birth name. There is no memory of anything before the day she woke up. Cold. Alone. Lost. No one notices her when she walks down the streets. She is like an invisible force in which everything is repelled. People step around her even though there is no acknowledgement of her being there. She can eat. She can feel pain. She can shit. She can piss. Yet she is not like them. Sometimes when she sleeps. She dreams of different faces, but they never speak. Just stare at her with no recognizable emotion. It makes no sense to her.
The God of Darkness - TAKEN - OCTOPUSDREAMS
Name: Deimos [Pronounced Deem-ohs]
Age: Ancient/Unknown; Appears to be in mid teens-late teens.Deimos appears to be very fragile and delicate, not what one would imagine the God of Hell to look like. However, bitter to the core, Deimos is an incredibly powerful and strong being. Most underestimate him, only to be shown his vicious and cruel wrath. His past and origins are shrouded in mystery, but it is whispered that the fearsome God was born into a curse- doomed to take on the responsibility of ruling over the dark realm and to be hated by all.
He holds a strange relationship with his ever faithful servant Lo. Despite often lashing out on Lo for seemingly no reason whatsoever, leaving his servant badly beaten at times, he does seem to hold some feelings towards Lo. Deimos knows that Lo is the only being that will ever love him and for that, Deimos feels some level of compassion for his servant and even on occasion, in a moment of weakness, opens up to Lo- often times recalling a painful memory.
The God's Pet - OPEN
Age: Ancient/Unknown; Appears to be in early twenties.Lo's form is battered and scarred. He is often wrapped in various places with bandages. Chains drape over his form and a thick metal collar encircles his neck. He normally hides most of his form by sporting a kimono, though proudly wearing his heavy chains draped over the finely decorated cloth. He takes a darker, twisted and even repulsive form when necessary. He is ever loyal to Deimos and would do anything to please him. The two are rarely seen apart from the other.
Despite often being ordered to do Deimos' dirty work, being trained to massacre entire villages at the snap of Deimos' fingers and often being inflicted with pain and torture by Deimos' own hand, Lo is still a gentle and tender-hearted being. He is both kind and considerate when he hasn't been ordered to kill you, or if Deimos is not being threatened. Unlike most servants of Deimos' he was never bound to the God, but rather chose to be by his side. While others strongly detest Deimos, he is the only one who loves and feels compassion for the dark God.
Death - STARLEQUIN
Age: Ancient/Unknown; Appears to be in early twentiesDeath is egotistical and with reason- most every body in the dark realm adores him. He is charming, a bit of an attention whore and envious of the ferryman. He hates the ferryman. He is the brother of sleep.
"It's a popular belief that there are worse things than death. Most days, that's true. But I can assure you...it doesn't have to be."
Background: So much work to do. So much suffering to alleviate. So much sorrow to inflict. So much peace to grant. Lesser beings would have crumbled a billion times, and a billion times again, under the collossal responsibilities of an office so integral to the delicate tapestry of existence.
For Zyn, it's less of a challenge than a walk through the rain.
Many creatures wonder and ponder the nature of their existence, the mystery of their origin and the enigma of their destiny. Not so, Zyn. As far as Death is concerned, he was the second guest ever to arrive at the Festival of Being, and he'll be the last one to leave. Gods and devils and mad-minded spirits can believe in their precious immortal endlessness all they like, but Zyn knows the truth: Nothing Lasts. A day will come when the last soul will be reaped, the final silence will fall, and Zyn will be the one to turn out the lights.
But in the meantime, there is so much to enjoy! Deimos and his little pet with their inscrutable agendas keep the Underworld so entertaining...and a certain gatekeeper provides more than a little long-missed attraction. Zyn is always among the first to admit that Naissance is the ultimate artist, and he holds great admiration and appreciation for her living masterpieces. And despite his brother Doromir's less than sterling opinion on Zyn's seemingly shallow persona, Death often enjoys the company of his sibling Sleep when the pair ramble through the world of the living, reaping and collecting the souls of their charges.
Zyn's usual enjoy-the-moment attitude often precludes him from anticipating much of anything outside of work, leaving him free to bask in the little pleasant surprises of existence as they come. But there is one thing Death has been looking forward to for a long, long time. Sooner or later, Zyn will have the chance to finally reap that miserable, hateful, despicable bastard Ferryman once and for all. And he plans to do everything in his considerable power to ensure that Talt does not enjoy anything like an easy, gentle Death.
Otherwise, Zyn does enjoy his work, and he performs his duties with flawless efficiency. Generally considered a Major Player, he has his finger firmly on the pulse (so to speak) of the Underworld's goings-on and is rarely uninformed. Of course, Zyn is a little too cool to really care about the affairs of the living and the dead, but it's a great way to kill time. And in the end, that's really what it's all about.
Sleep - TAKEN - MEZZANOTTE
Age: Ancient/Unknown; Appears to be in early twentiesSleep is lethargic and calm. A curious character and a bit of a pervert. He is death's brother and will on occasion accompany death, the victims falling into the warm confines of sleep only to wake up being ferried by Talt. He often likes to visit Life...
"And visited upon them was a comforting darkness, so enticing that naught but the rise of morning could break them from their slumber."
The night comes and goes; so too does Doromir walk the earth. Herald of the night and harbinger of the day, his presence marks the transition from the darkness to the light. At least, that's what the official job description says; the truth is often times far less glamorous.
In the beginning, he spent much of his time guiding those who wandered into his realm through the night and into the morning, granting them safe, though often lonely, passage by his mandate. As the clock turned forth from then on, he slowly came to realize that his presence was far less necessary; those under his charge had long since grown able to find their way through his kingdom themselves. Having deemed his personal attention irrelevant, therefore, Doromir turned his attention to other endeavors. He fathered Dream, and gave her free reign within his realms; he admits to those who ask that he finds her... "different" perspective helpful in distracting him from the monotony of his own work.
A calm, collected individual with an unfortunate tendency towards sloth, Doromir's laziness causes him to avoid being a major player in the underworld. Though he no longer holds such an important share in the state of affairs, he still rules the realm of the slumbering with an iron fist. Because of his carefree and generally paternal attitude towards his "job," he often finds himself in conflict with Nightmare, although one could argue that it is less because of his distaste for Nightmare's petty games and more due to Dream's somewhat unhealthy obsession. After all, what father doesn't care for his daughter? So he keeps a careful eye on the happenings within his domain.
For much the same reason, Sleep tends to disagree with his brother, Death. Because of his own nature, Doromir often thinks his brother petty and shallow; so even though it is Death who typically rules over mortality and dying, Doromir often accompanies his brother to visit those he believes deserve peace and the final rest he has to offer. For these special, unique few he makes personal house calls, and will often emerge from his domain to claim their souls once they have been brought to the dark realms and bring them back to where they can find eternal peace under his watchful eye.
Nowadays, he spends his time watching those under his care, often moving casually from place to place, unseen and unnoticed. For Doromir, the living world has always been an interesting place; he finds the awake interesting, and enjoys watching them go about their lives. As he has watched the living world change, he has found an almost admiration - others would say attraction - for Life, and has taken a fancy to visiting her when he isn't working. Their visits often sour when idle chatter reveals that he often spends much of his time stalking attractive women in the world of the living, when awake (which would be only mildly awkward) and asleep (which is mildly disconcerting).
Life - TAKEN - BRITTLBY
Age: Ancient/Unknown; Appears to be in her late teens-early twentiesLife is often sweet but can be quite a bitch if the mood fits her. She keeps sure that things in the living world run as they should- often resulting her in needing to keep those of the underworld in check, though some times she can be found sleeping on the job- if you know what I mean.
"The problem with free will, is that everyone has it. I just deal the cards out. How they are played is largely out of my hands. I wouldn't want to make your choices for you. If I wanted to play solitaire, I would not have created you. Cheat, bluff, fold... I don't play favorites. In this game, things have a way of working out, and no one's luck holds out forever.
This is a flawed analogy, mind you. You are not randomly drawn from the deck.
When I was younger and your people yet undreamed on this world, I thought of you. In my mind's eye I gave your green eyes flecks of hazel and I lovingly dipped my fingers into your primal clay. That was how I made the dimples that you hate so much, even though they warm the hearts of those around you when you smile.
I made your dark hair unruly on humid days, though you would prefer it be blond and straight. You're proud of your soft skin, and so am I. I took an eternity to choose the right hue, but it was worth it.
You're perfect. There's no such thing as perfect, some people say with the lips I gave them. You've said it a few times too. I would ask by what standard perfection is judged. Perfection has always been relative to the viewer, after all.
Life is never "perfect", but it's important that you know... you're perfect for me."
Background: An abstract being, it is hard to quantify Naissance. She is equal parts mother, sculptor, voyeur, accountant and clock maker. She takes pride in her work, loving everyone with the full measure of her being, but rarely offering guidance to her wayward children. If pressed to describe her work, she explains that she makes excellent things without purpose. She is mother to the world, always watching the triumphs and shortcomings of her progeny, ever wishing the best for them.
Only with great reluctance, is she forced to be strident at times and take a firm hand in the affairs of her children. She plays no favorites, loving everyone equally. This unfortunately has the result of making her seem cruel. They say life isn't fair, but in all frankness, there is none more impartial.
She takes a personal interest in everyone, knowing them intimately throughout their journey. She does not know their thoughts or subvert their will, of course. Naissance just watches. Wicked, pious, deviant or slothful, it does not matter. What she wants most for all of her progeny is that they make their own choices and step away from this mortal coil largely satisfied with the journey. Passing judgement is someone else's task.
For one with so very much love for all of her creations, it is interesting to note the special affection she seems to have for Sleep. He has the rare distinction of being one of the few things she loves that she did not create. She claims their unique bond stems largely from Life's habit of watching her children more closely when they are asleep, though others might suggest that as mother to all, a creature so full of love would have carnal appetites not readily sated.
Dream - TAKEN - RAMPANTDESIRES
Age: 17Dream is sleep's daughter. She is a kind, lovely and peaceful teenager. Her beauty is breathtaking and she's quite ladylike in her mannerisms, however she has a bad habit of being drawn to Nightmare, finding him quite... well... dreamy...
You know that feeling when you wake from a good dream? The one where you're missing something amazing, something vital, and its hovering there just out of your reach if you could just find a way to push through that thin veil and grab it?
Despite her rather charmed life Aislinn could not shake that feeling. Her largely preoccupied father indulged the girl allowing her to flit through his realm as she willed spying on and feeding the thoughts of mortals while they slept; nothing was denied to her. She saw everything from the mundane to the fantastic. Reality could not constrain her and most everyone found her innocence, her unique view of the world charming. She had everything any woman could ever want.... except him.
There was no reason that she should want to put up with Nightmare and his endless litany of abuse and grumbling. No reason that she should keep coming back time after time. She could still remember the first time he had clashed with her, twisting the carefully woven images she'd been creating into something ... darker. He drove her crazy, he made her want to cry, to laugh, to punch him in his smug self satisfied face. She should be like everyone else and do her best to ignore him and his cruel antics. But he made her feel alive, real, not some fragile thing to be admired from afar, not some ephemeral figment, and for that she would always love him ... and hate him, and herself for that matter.
Nightmare - TAKEN - FALLENMAJESTY
Age: Teeth as MillenniumNightmare is rude, mean-spirited and troubled. He isn't the son of any one, having existed of his own accord. He's not fond of others and prone to playing cruel tricks on people. He thoroughly enjoys toying with others. However, dream has managed to look past his unpleasant attitude and he, incapable of angering her beyond the point of leaving him be must put up with her, annoyingly enough- at least she's a looker.Background: Words are such fragile things. They construct such grand stories with them while they're awake, seeking to bury their inner demons and their true nature through skillfully crafted stories that they tell themselves, and others. Only in dark dreams, where no story they construct can protect them, are they shown the lie both they and I know those stories to be.
The first thing Morpheus can remember is a dream that he never could wake up from. A nightmare, all of his very own. That no one wanted to be his mother. Of an entire litany of beings, with parents interested in birthing them, caring for them, raising for them, establishing a family. Although not quite understanding why, it was largely concluded this was a good thing. But no one ever wanted Nightmare, and this bothered him, then irritated him, then made him angry. Angry enough to, with nothing else save his mind, will himself into existence. Triumphing over his own nightmare, from which there had been no waking save by triumph. Having done so, he felt to the very core of his being that it having been made clear that he did not belong to a family, or the group of people to whom had mothers, fathers, siblings, husbands, wives, and friends, that he must be better than them.
He was certainly smarter. After all, he was the only being in the entire universe brilliant enough to create himself. He drifted from dream to dream, touching sleeping minds and taking what knowledge he needed. He had no family or friends to teach him, after all, and certainly no one to tell him that this was a bad thing. It was in those dreams that he learned of two things. First, that dreams as they were right now were fanciful things. More pleasant things, to go with their pleasant lives. Morpheus understood that in one's darker moments, one revealed one's true nature. He took great joy in revealing hidden truths that were best left alone. Almost as if toying with them, his brilliance having put him above the rules of which society operated.
The second was that there was someone with him in many of them. She was responsible for those fanciful things, and he hated her for it. He even took the time to seek her out, that he might torment her for interfering with his fun. It was then that he found she was... beautiful. Her beauty like that of finest moon goddess, her manner as soft as moon beams on one's skin, her mind having depths to it that he had not suspected. In short, everything he was not.
He didn't have many friends, and quite honestly, he liked it that way. No family, no friend to tell him what to do (not that he'd have listened anyways). And he tormented Dream mercilessly, taking great joy in what dreams she crafted, and turning them into nightmares worthy of the greatest epics. He had a certain dramatic flare that suited his chosen work very well. His knack for crafting stories lent very well to crafting the grandest of dark dreams. And his ability to tease details, and find the one thing which he might tempt those into darkness, worthy of the finest demon. He turned these in full force upon Dream, as he did his own unpleasant nature.
But still, the damned woman wouldn't go. He treated her much as he did everyone else, because to him, she wasn't different than anyone else. She wouldn't leave... no matter what he tried, no matter what he did. Eventually, he sort of resigned himself to it, for at least for someone who wouldn't go, she was the finest specimen. He never ceased tormenting her, although in time, he had three rules by which he dealt with her. Simply things that he could no longer bring himself to do around or to her.
The first was that he had never said one bad thing to her about her mother. That deep seated desire of his, so long ago, to have a mother of his own never quite went away, and he couldn't bring himself to say or do anything to or about the mother of hers that was (although he would NEVER admit this) the kind that he had wanted for himself.
The second was that there were certain torments that he would not visit upon her waking hours. While in dreams, he had no problem turning them into the darkest of nightmares, he would not visit many of those same torments on her in waking hours. As to why, he didn't really know, simply that after one such time where he had finally gotten to her, it had bothered him so much that he resolved to not do it anymore, as he didn't like how it made him feel.
He had eventually resigned himself to her company, as the damned woman simply would not leave. At least she was beautiful, intelligent, and incredibly graceful. He even took the name of Morpheus, for he considered himself the Lord of Dreams. Not that rose petal laden candy land fanciful moon thinkings that Dream crafted. This seemed to do little else save please Dream, in some small way. Damned if he knew why.
Cerberus - OPEN
Age: Ancient/Unknown; Appears to be 22Cerberus is loyal, territorial and rash. She's not a three-headed dog, that just being a nasty rumour that terrible Nightmare had spread about her. She's actually a very sexy lady. She guards the dark realm and is always hoping to catch the eye of death.
Twin 1 - TAKEN - DARKROSE15
Age: Mid teens-late teensThis character, despite her sweet and innocent look, is rather sinister. Bound to Deimos.
Lucinda wasn't always a powerful monster with a love of violence, torture and chaos. In fact, at one point she was just as sweet as her dear twin sister. The two sisters couldn't be more different in personality now, but it is always hard for people to determine who is who. Lucinda wouldn't have it any other way.
She's devious, vile, black-hearted, a perfect little monster. She voluntarily chose to serve Deimos and has proven herself to be a most valuable interrogator. She never holds back, sometimes having to be stopped by her much sweeter sister when she gets carried away (which is quite often)
Few enjoy her company, but she prefers the company of her sister, and a few corpses to have tea parties with. It has not been confirmed what transformed her from a sweet little human girl into a hellish monster of the pits, but whatever it was damaged her so badly that redemption is but a fleeting thought. She only ever seems to be kindly (if kindly can be used in the same sentence as Lucinda) towards her sister and the Rat King. Her last link to her humanity is her sister, and even that sometimes doesn't hold her back from heinous deeds.
She tends to be coy when asked of her relationship with Attivus, merely grinning and saying she enjoys the games they play.
Twin 2 - TAKEN - SWEETS
Age: Mid teens-late teensThis character is the opposite of her sinister twin and more fitting to her sweet and innocent look. Bound to Deimos.
Melinda has always been close to her sister, they are rarely seen apart. In life when Lucinda's troubles started she was there, trying her hardest to keep Lucinda sane. When Lucinda died Melinda's own death followed soon after by her own hand. She loves her sister even without he madness that has taken her, the cruelty. She understands that her sister loves her seeing that she is far less cruel then she is to anyone else. She is still getting use to her life bound to the dark god.
The Rat Prince - TAKEN - BRITTLBY
Name: Attivus Droone (At-Ehv-Us Druh-Oon)
Age: 20"They will tell stories about me even after this city has crumbled to dust. And even then they will be told no louder than whispers..."This character is clever and cunning like a rat, tricky and scandalous. He is an assistant to Deimos, bound to the dark God, though he doesn't mind too much. He has his eye on the more sinister of two twins. The Rat Prince hasn't any scores to settle but is always searching for more power.
The second son of a wealthy spice merchant, Attivus was always a strange child. He did not speak until his fifth year, at which time he spoke with a fluency and diction that made it clear he had understood what everyone was saying for years but had never felt he had anything to share.
His mother considered him to be precocious, when interviewed after "the incident", she spoke at length of how he had an affection for mice and other vermin, keeping them as pets. His father treated him with an equal mix of revulsion and guilt, for he knew both what Attivus was and that he alone was responsible for the boy's condition. It would later be discovered that the elder Droone had elicited the services of an agent of darkness in achieving his wealth. Too timid to allow for his own damnation, it was his future seed that would be born with a soul that burned black. Human only in appearance, a monster dwelt in the pale boy. A creature of pure schadenfreude, he revelled in tormenting those around him. With an insatiable thirst for secrets and suffering, he became an adroit manipulator by the time he was sent away to Academy by his troubled parents.
Though he is now thought to be responsible for the "Bloody summer" incident in which five students committed suicide over the course of two months, the first documented case of murder occurred when Attivus was nine years old. Ruled accidental at the time, a twelve year old girl who was known to pick on the younger children was found dead of a venomous snake bite while in bed. When questioned years later, Droone admitted that she never picked on him. He had killed her because they were HIS victims.
The teen years after his (greatly accelerated by a nervous faculty) graduation are well documented and known to most anyone, as death followed him where ever he went. It was only when he had reached sixteen years of age and his father passed on (from an allergic reaction to multiple insect stings) that the pieces fell into place.
"The Incident" as it was referred to furtively occurred one night when Attivus' suspicious elder brother thought correctly that with his beating heart being the only obstacle between Attivus and the family fortune, his days were numbered. The records are sealed, but everyone knows the story of what the authorities found at the Droone estate. Male remains were found in the forest, bones picked clean by vermin, an oddity given that the elder Droone had only been missing for two days. Also undocumented but well known was the fact that some of the bite marks left etched in the bone were human. Worse still, these were collected remains nearby of at least eighteen other victims... some younger than Mister Droone.
The stories about young Mr. Droone are wide spread and exaggerated to the point of impossibility. Everyone has heard the stories. The true chill seeps into the soul when one realizes that they are all true.
That his saliva was both addictive and deadly to a young cleric who died mid fellatio, Attivus' tongue stopping his heart mid-climax. That Mister Droone can extend his presence through vermin and baser creatures, as when thousands of rat corpses were found amongst the embers of a rival merchant's burned estate.
Or how his lithe and infernal body can twist and bend bonelessly through barred windows much like those that protected the young poet Makadama Lowell, who resides in Bedlam now after giving birth to an abomination rumored to be the stuff of nightmares. Or how the Baroness Anise poisoned herself the night after he whispered a single word into her ear... before biting off her earring.
The most horrifying tale of course is how he lives a life of untainted wickedness in service to the Darkness, unashamed of his crimes and untouchable because of the simple fact that none in power are brave enough to live with their secrets exposed. His demise could quite literally bring about the end of three dynasties. And when he is finally called back to the darkness, his only regret will be that he won't be there to watch it all come crashing down.
Basilisk - TAKEN - SINXAZGARD21
Name: Scion [Pronounced Sky-On]
Age: Early twenties-mid twentiesOne of the ferryman's assistants. This character is rather wolfish. He is aggressive, possessive and has the manners of an animal, not to mention he kind of smells like one too. He uses brute force to get what he wants, but isn't too smart. His gaze can paralyze a foe. He likes the scent of that less sinister twin. He has a score to settle with Lo, who massacred his people.
"When raised by wolves, power is all that matters." - Scion
Scion is not the Ferryman's right hand man, he is more of the muscle in the sense that he gets things done in one or more violent way. Not one to think things through, he rushes in, kills things and then ponders if he should have asked questions first. Though this doesn't only apply to his work, he is naturally an animal, raised in the dark realm by the creatures lurking in the dark. Scion takes anything he finds interesting, breaks bones of those who try to stop him save the Ferryman, never bite the hand that feeds.
The Masked One and The Scryer
The Masked One - TAKEN - OCTOPUSDREAMS
Name: Seoul (Pronounced 'Soul')
Age: Early twenties-mid twentiesThis character is a mysterious being- apparently the only of his kind known as the Soul Thieves. If his entire face is gazed upon by a member of the same sex their soul is stolen by him. There is only ever one Soul Thief in the form of flesh at a time, the rest living inside of him. He is an assistant to the ferryman. He is rather fond of the scryer, who seems to be able to keep an eye on every body but him. He has a way of appearing to her upon will by manipulating her dreams. Despite being the only of his kind he is a good balance of indifferent and chipper but the rest of his race living within him seems to trouble him as he does not feel like a real person.
The Scryer - TAKEN - SWEETS
Name: Ambali (Pronounced am-bah-lih)
Age: Late teens-early twentiesShe is Deimos' assistant. She has eyes like liquid gold. She can see things about others at will. However, she can't seem to see one of the ferryman's assistants. Despite being a servant to a different master, she is captivated by the masked one. Her past is one of sorrow. She remains rather quiet and has a sorrowful aura. She is very observant. She does not want to be bound to Deimos but is any way- if she refuses him she will not only lose her eyes but her young child whose soul will be cursed by Deimos himself.
Ambali had been considered an odd girl, her golden eyes, she did not speak until she was six which only added to her parents concerns. It was these concerns that lead Ambali to be home schooled, her parents worried about what people would think about the strange silent girl. When she was nine she had this feeling of dread, it was the first time that she could look into what could happen to those around her, and what she saw was her parents death. She tried to warn them but they would not listen and died in a fire.
When she was ten she was placed under her Aunts care. At the age of nineteen she found herself dating an emotionally abusive young man. She left him when she found out she was pregnant, unable to let a child be raise by such a man. He came after her in a rage and she killed him to protect herself. But he had managed to mortally wound her. However, she had been blessed with a gift, and seeing his opportunity, Deimos offered to let her keep her life, so that she may continue raising her child so long as she bound herself to him.
Her life bound to Deimos has been uncomfortable for Ambali. She feels uncomfortable around Lo unable to understand the connection the man feels with Deimos. She remains by his side out of fear, given the chance to get away with no consequences she would run and never look back.
The Banshee - OPEN
Age: Mid teens-late teensHer song lures souls to Hell that deserve to go there and her song can kill the living if they hear it long enough. She has no qualms crushing anyone in her path, yet she has enough of a conscience to recognize and spare true innocence. However, she finds one of her victims in the care of the ferryman. Upon meeting her victim, she finds that despite being aware of his fate he shows no fear nor begs for freedom.
The Damned Soul - OPEN
Age: Late teens-early twentiesHe has lived a troubled life and has sought revenge to satisfy the bitter hatred in his heart. Now he has condemned himself to hell in the pursuit of vengeance, but surprisingly, he knows where the Banshee is taking him and shows no fear.
The Innocent Soul - OPEN
Age: Mid teens-late teens.She has been the victim of a wish from the ferryman- her soul is to be sent to Hell despite being innocent. She does not understand how this has happened to her and struggles with this hand she has been dealt.
The Charmer - TAKEN - BOBBACCA
Name: Vardin (Pronunciation: rhymes with "garden")
Age: Early twentiesA demon, he is an assistant of the ferryman's and manages to distract foes with sharply tuned words. He has a bit of a temper that he has trouble controlling. He despises humans and is rather nasty mannered to them. Slightly pompous and easily irritable, it is a difficult task when he is assigned to guard the Innocent Soul until she is safely ferried to Hell. However, the more time he spends in her presence, he starts to see humans in a different light and becomes some what fond of the Innocent Soul, becoming ever more troubled that she is being sent to Hell despite her innocence.
Born as a Soul-Guardian, Vardin grew quickly disenchanted with humanity's foolishness and corruption. His cynicism grew over time, and he eventually decided humans were beneath his attention and unworthy of his assistance. He began to neglect his duties to watch over the souls of humanity and to try to encourage the best in them, instead discouraging them through sarcasm and anger when he bothered to whisper to their souls at all. This led to his fall from grace, and he was cast down into the underworld where he became a demon.
Blaming his fall on the corruptible nature of humanity, his attitude towards them devolved from a general dislike and lack of faith to outright hatred of them. He wandered aimlessly across Earth and the Underworld for a time, lashing out at humans when he encountered them, and eloquently bitching about them with his silvered tongue to non-humans he came across.
When he met Talt, and learned the nature of the Ferryman's work, Vardin immediately offered his service as an assistant. Though he finds Talt's passion for collecting interesting souls rather annoying, he takes great pleasure in his role of helping see corrupt human souls to their eternal damnation. Serving the Ferryman as both guard and diplomat as necessary, Vardin also provides Talt amusement on their journeys in the form of a running commentary on their travels, mostly consisting of dry, sarcastic, and/or cutting remarks about their surroundings and encounters.
His experiences working for Talt have always generally reinforced his views of humanity, until he was given the distasteful task of guarding the Innocent Soul. He initially took her to be what he considered the worst type of humanity: the kind that had given him false hope for humanity in the past by masking their true inner corruption through an outer veneer of kindness and good deeds. Now he is beginning to suspect that she isn't faking anything, but is in fact, an example of what he had given up on finding in the human race: a truly innocent human soul. Troubled and uncomfortable with the implications that would arise if his suspicions turn out to be true, Vardin is on the verge of having to reconsider everything he's believed for so long about life, death, and humanity, and even his very role in the world.
Q:How do I apply for this role play?
A: Reply to the thread with a proposed character skeleton for the desired character.
Q: Is this a first come, first serve role play?
A: No. We decide on who shall be given the role by who we deem is the most interesting and well written character proposal.
Q: How literate is this role play?
A: We will aim for 3 to 9 paragraphs. We don't want anything to short or too long but we neither want to handicap the quality of the writing with limits.
Q: What should I expect from this role play?
A: A one thread game with a myriad of themes such as romance, drama, action, comedy and tragedy. A lovely variety of characters. Pretty words. A strong structured game. Various plots running simultaneously. No "main character" plot. Each character has their own plot for each character has a story to be told.
Q: But why one thread?
A: Because it is more successful and easier to keep track of than multi-thread games.
Q: No it's not.
Q: Can I change the character picture?
Q: But I don't like the image representing the character I would like to play.
A: Deal with it.
Q: Can I make my own character for this role play?
Q: Why not?
A: Because it's too much trouble trying to fit in extra characters. There are an even amount of characters so that each player's character will be paired with another character.
Q: I have this really awesome idea and I think it would be really cool to incorporate it into the role play.
A: Small ideas are okay so long as they are given the okay by me. Do remember that this role play isn't to suit your latest crave. If you have something you want in a role play, then go make a role play, don't try to make mine suit for your individual desires.
Q: Why are you so mean?
A: THIS IS SRS BUSINESS GTFO.
Q: Can I have fun?
Q: Will there be an OOC thread?
A: Yes. And the rules will be simple. No drama. Be considerate. Don't be obnoxious. And don't be overly nice either. It weirds me out.
Q: Can I have multiple characters?
A: Yes. Please only take on multiple characters if you believe you are capable of doing so. You can have up to three characters and must be accepted for all three.
Q: How do you run your games?
A: Pretty lax so long as I'm not annoyed. It's hard to annoy me, unless you're creepily nice or you refuse to cooperate.
Q: What will the pace be?
A: Lax here too. One day you may get quite a few posts the next day none. I believe in a loose rotation where you, as a player, decide for yourself when you need to take a pause to allow the other players to keep up without having three books to read when they return to E/have a chance to post. The activity of the role play will depend heavily on the individual players schedule. Simple as this: you won't be left behind; don't leave others behind.