December 1217

In character stories from games. This information should be considered OOG for other players.
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Joined: Mon Sep 21, 2015 8:27 pm
Active Character(s): Crayton Sigridson

Re: December 1217

Post by DoctorWhoa379 » Tue Dec 12, 2017 4:07 pm

This town, if one can call a collection of wood and dirt and mud a town, is....strange. The shroud is so thin here, the Quick seem to mingle with magic and lycans and Cainite as if they were nothing more than, say your neighbor. Fascinating. I can not wait to begin my experiments. Maybe this is where I finally unlock it. Maybe....

This Circle of theirs is so disjointed.
Why hasn't she been forged yet? She's a danger at this point.

And now Opheus has gone helldiving. What in God's name was he fu-REND.... Calm yourself Ilhami. You can lecture him on his lack of....foresight later. Hopefully. At least Yoruc is reasonable.

Great. Specters. I think. They're close enough. This isn't the first fight you've been in Ilhami. Just keep clawing at them. God. They just keep appearing.

GODDAMN. They hit hard. Shit. Fuck. Nearly out of-going to harrow. Need to escape. Cross over. Yes! ....No.


Prey. Prey. Hiding.

Prey. Prey. Den.


Prey. Prey.

Pre-...Threat. Kill. Later.

Opheus. ...Threat. Point.


This town is insane.

Great. More of them. Protect the enfants. PREY....That's an alchemical symbol. Perhaps the Quick do know something of actual value. REND. PREY. I need more Pathos.

I'd love to have that ritual.

Why yes Milicent, I Am a Guilded Alchemist. Why yes I should be teaching Flux. What a blatant disregard for my guild and my Arcanoi. Teaching it to literally everyone. Not like the Guilds actually matter or wait, is it because we're not a real guild? Such....disrespect. KILL

This town is....Fascinating I think I'll enjoy my stay here. If I survive it.

Sulfurous. Very sulfurous.
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Re: December 1217

Post by Doc » Thu Dec 14, 2017 6:15 am

Its freedom in the Tempest. A constant flow of energy and chaos and we get to charge through it, just outside of Oblivion's grasp. Its always chasing the Harbingers here; I don't know about the others but the closest I've felt to this outside of its storm is that sensation one gets right before being touched. You see a hand, a finger, hovering above your skin; its electric and its everywhere. The only difference being one gives you a welcoming touch from a friend, and the other a cold reminder of the nothingness that we all return to.

I have two Enfants that want this life. Why couldn't they want to be Masquers? Not the hell diving ones, but the ones that change clothes and hair for people. Something safe. They see me fly and they also see freedom; what they don't see is the fear. One slip, one fall, one failure and it could all be done.

So why do you do it? Go back to the tree, be alone, be nobody. Without the one who followed this time.

I do it for the fear, to keep my shadow on edge. With it always afraid its always helping too, telling me where to look, who is dangerous, and when to flee. Its only an inconvenience when I want to relax; be with my new family, with Clelia, with... my daughter.

You're going to lose her. Everyone will blame you, they will hate you, you'll hate you for what happens. They'll fear you and coin you for how you'll act. We both know you've thought about it, we both know what you'll do.

Its an odd feeling: wanting to be held and wanting to run. Wanting to love and knowing you'll lose. Its like being here; we want to fly and be free, but we also want to feel Oblivion grasping at us in vain.

You don't want to think about it, I can feel it. You know I'm right, you know it will happen, you know it will be your fault. You can lock her in a room, you can stand at the gate, but you'll never keep her safe.

But sometimes it does get you; it will grab your wing, your hand, your heart, and it will pull you down where you don't want to be again.

So run. Run. Run away and be safe. You can assume everything is fine, imagine a happy world for her, for all of them. They'll be happy, and you'll be safe; no pain, no hurt, just you and a safe place. No hot anvil, no ping of the hammer, you won't have the chance to fall and meet the forge.

But that place is no where I haven't been; I was born there, and I crawled and clawed my way through those halls and specters to come out the other side stronger for it. The constant fear is my ally now; it keeps me on my toes, it stands vigilant and gives voice to my worry. I'll torture you shadow, I'll make you fear and you'll get louder; my shadow you will help me look after her because I love her, and if she is lost... well, you've already said it haven't you? Running away isn't an option, if you fail her there is nothing left but to face that hot anvil. The ping of the Hammer. We'll both be meeting the forge.
Bar, Grim Legion, Harbinger, Alcoholic
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Location: Seaton Carew
Active Character(s): Eira Sigundottir, Crescent-Bled-Shadow, Fenrir, Lupus, Godi, Cliath.

Selena Rose Cadenza Settimo - human

Re: December 1217

Post by Acethetic » Fri Dec 15, 2017 1:25 am


Those-Like-Mist are gone.

But still feel cold, feel hurt in… word. Flesh. Heart? Heart. It drip through body, tries reach for ears. Tries reach for paws- NO. Hands. Feet. Need think Homid. Have-

No. Stop. Not move.

The girl froze, hearing voices from down the dark path. She strained to see, knowing that her human eyes were too weak even in daylight to make out any details, let alone at night. So, the girl listened instead, her head cocked just to the side, as the people drew near. Only one was important to her.

Know he- him. Blood-Soaked-Snow. Warrior. Strong. Help?

He spoke words. The girl shook her head, not understanding. He spoke again. She was struck with fear, reaching for the gnosis that would allow her to hide from him, from everyone.

It didn’t work.

The girl was forced out of hiding, words thrown her way again, and she shivered in place.


And she followed.

Go with. Will be safe. Safe. Toward light? Light where hurt. Fire. Hunt. No. Trap. Cage. No cage. Who walk with? Who am. Who are? Danger. Growl. Teeth. Bite. Wrong. Go. Hide.

And she slowed.

And then she vanished.

The wolf leapt up the hill, too-long legs tangling in its cloak- no- the girl’s cloak.

The girl ran up the hill, her legs tangling in her cloak. She heard calls from below, but they could not see her anymore. Turning sharply, the girl dived under the porch, boots skidding in the stones beneath her. She pressed herself against the stone of the wall, sliding along it and keeping low to the ground. Footsteps above. Voices. And she halted.

Cold. Hurts. Need move. Or freeze. Need run. Chase? Hunt? No. Flee. Bad. Sharp-Homid. Fire-Homid. Homid-Bad. Bad. Cold. Cold. Cold. Cold. Cold. Word. No. Find. Bird. Fire. Warm. Whistle? No. Don’t know where. Cold. Brangwen? Don’t know where. Frost? Frost cold. No. Silent-Vigil warm. Cold. No. Marigold. Find. Love warm. Foxglove? Love hurt. No. Marigold. Love. Smell. Mouse. Cold. Hunt. NO. Not hunt. Find. Chase? Hunt? NO. Marigold. Not hunt. Why. Love. Warm. Cold. Up? Down? Down.

The wolf raised itself off the ground, giving a shake of the head. It padded underneath the tree-long-dead, pausing before it was free of the shadows. Looking up, then down, it snuffed at the air.

Mouse. Catch.

The wolf paused, its brow wrinkling, and it swiped at its nose with a hairless paw.

Mouse… find. Warm. Love.

Snuffing again, it loped down the path, keeping to the shadows. At the first sound of… anything, it made itself unseen. The path here was too full of light, so the wolf raced through it as fast as it could, returning to the shadows and hoping that its speed could hide when the forest could not. No one followed, and so it was satisfied.

The wolf came across what it knew to be an opening, but paused, struggling.


The girl reached out, turned the handle of the door, and slipped inside.

She sniffed, looking around the Rose at the empty couches. So intent on her search, sniffing around each corner, catching any trace of familiarity, she failed to notice another in the room. Wick. Staring.


The girl reached for the door, feeling the sickening cold dig into her again. She barely made it outside, nearly tripping over chairs before-

The wolf saw someone. Something. It crouched low into the earth, close to the wall, eyes intent on the-

Bad. Why? BAD. Friend.

The girl snuffed, taking a few steps closer as the person spoke. She couldn’t understand. Her head hurt. She was cold.

Bad. Run. Hide. Away. Pack. Den. Home.

The wolf’s head turned sharply, pointing towards the forest. It glanced towards the… something. Homid-but-not-here. Then it rose, trotting away from the light, away from the town, toward the forest and the darkness.

It heard footsteps from behind, and sped its pace, hating the body it had, wishing for paws again, for proper fur. If it was itself, it could run. Be free.

Away. Home. Tree. Safe. Cold. Pack. Warm.

The wolf broke into a run, feeling its pursuer moving alongside it now.


It ran full force now, skidding on the stones, homid cloth flying out behind it and choking at its throat.


Looking back, it saw the homid-not-here closer and closer and it tried to hide but-


The wolf fell to the ground, eyes closed.

It dreamed.

It was surrounded by bad-not-seen. All around. It needed to find somewhere safe. Someone safe. Strong. Warrior. Leader.

When its eyes opened again, the wolf felt a pull in the heart, dragging at its paws.

Druse. Go. Now.




No. Safe. Pack.

Druse safe. Pack.

Warm? Go. Druse.


It slowly raised itself off the ground, carefully sidestepping around the homid-not-here, and turning to lope away through the forest. Back to town. In the distance, behind, it heard more words. It could not understand.

No one stopped the wolf on its way through town. It made its way down the hill, past the comforting shadows, to a group of homids standing outside the food-smell-den. The wolf saw him, Wake-Of-Ashes, and went straight for him. He turned, looked surprised, and-


The wolf was grabbed, thrown against a wall, and it yelped, cringing away. Blood-Soaked-Snow stood there, growling and snapping. He barked. The wolf did not understand. He grabbed the wolf and shoved it past the wall, and-

CAGE. No. Bad. No. Not safe. Bad. Cold. Danger.

It fell to the ground, belly up and whimpering. It felt someone near it and slashed out with a claw before it was grabbed and thrown again. Blood-Soaked-Snow snarled and growled, drowning out all else. The wolf whimpered again, whole body shivery as it waited to die. There were other voices, but it did not understand. It did not understand anything. It wanted out. It did not want to die trapped.

Finally, it was left there, shivering, curled in the corner. There was movement. The wolf scrambled away, backing into a corner and eyeing the opening. Homids stood there. Too many. Too many in the room.


A voice. Soft. Warm.

The wolf paused, trembling, looking at the homid there. She was sitting, blocking the only way the wolf could see that it could run. The wolf breathed out, eyes locked on the homid, waiting to see what she would do. When she finally did something, it was to place a thing on the ground. The wolf peered closed, saw the ripples of water.

It was confused.

Bad? No. Danger. Homid bad. Can’t. Danger. Cold. Thirsty. BAD. Thirsty? No. No. No. Cold. Hungry. Thirsty. Tired. Homid. Thirsty. HOMID. Drink.

It inched forward, awkwardly pulling the water towards itself and shoving its face into the water. Its muzzle was too short like this, tongue too stubby, and the wolf spilled more than it drank. But it did drink, occasionally glancing up, ready to claw out if the homid moved any closer.

Hungry. Tired. HOMID. Not bad. Why? Alive.

The homid spoke again, and the wolf strained to understand, mouth moving in familiar-yet-still-foreign ways. The water was refilled, and the wolf drank again, too desperate to move with her earlier caution.

The wall where she had come in, moved again, and the wolf flinched, claws at the ready. The homid-with-soft-voice spoke again, soothing it. Then, as the wolf backed away, the homid moved closer, still speaking. It stretched out towards her, sniffing the air.

Warm. Safe?

More words.

Pack? Home.

The wolf strained to understand the words, and almost without thinking further, crawled forward to rest its face and shoulder in the lap of soft-voice-homid. It breathed more deeply, calmly. The wall shifted again, and the wolf flinched, only to look up with more curiosity as another homid. This one was different. He carried a smell like one she knew- but not quite. It sniffed his way, nestling down into soft-voice-homid’s lap again.

Smell. Good. Warm. Love? Yes. Like… word. Name. NAME. Guardian-of-Spring. Like but not like. Love. Like. Warm. Good. Home. Who. Pack. Mate. No. Yes? Warm.

The soft-voice-homid made more sounds, like howling, but more… gentle. The wolf liked it. The wolf thought of its own litter. It was surprised to think of them. It never thought of when it was a pup. It didn’t know it could remember that far.

Words, and the one who smelled like Guardian-of-Spring took soft-voice-homid’s place. His voice was less gentle, but the wolf felt his paw on its hair, and smelled how he smelled warm. Its eyes closed, and for the first time, it felt safe.

Soft-voice-homid returned. With others. Many others.


The wolf backed up in the corner again, but soft-voice-homid drew it close, and wrapped her paws around it. She spoke, voice still gentle, calming the wolf.

And Eira felt the cold withdraw from her heart. She remembered everything.

Then all she could do was cry.

Eira Sigundottir (Crescent-Bled-Shadow)
Selena Rose Cadenza Settimo
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