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| ᵉʸᵉˢ ᵒᶠ 𝐌 𝐀 𝐊 𝐎 |

09/15/2020 05:19 PM 

—𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 | sample

  reminiscence ` i̵t̨͜ ̸wá͏s͘n͏'̢t̴͠ ̷̡m҉̨e͏ant̸ ͘tơ̴̧ h̡͠a͝҉ṕ̢̕pe̕͘n͘ ̛́͡t҉h̵i̸s̡͡ ̨w̵̶a̛y̡͢ `   Someone whom was once trusted dearly, a mentor to the up and coming SOLDIER within Shinra- a role model to many and a hero . . . such a well known figure to the brunette child that many spoke of- many wanting to be just like that SOLDIER. the young one was barely into his teenage years upon first meeting this Shinra SOLDIER- whom was not too much older than himself.terrorists had made their way into the fifth sector of Midgar, causing a panic amongst many in the slums- the prime location of said terrorists. many orphans like himself had no home to hide within, only hiding places scattered about the slums of Sector 5. those terrorists would be wreaking havoc onto the slums, a distant explosion sounding from one of their bombs. screams sounded in the distance, fire scorching a large section nearby in sector.the young brunette had found himself upon the rooftops, wanting to stop those terrorists from harming the people of the slums and causing further destruction- despite being so young and barley strong enough to even defend himself. as other children he knew of were found by those terrorists, which he could no longer idly stand by. even with no weapons, he used gravity to his best advantage- leaping down from the rooftops above and slammed his full weight into one of the main terrorists.curses would sound into the air, and though his actions would disable one of them long enough-- he was soon flung away across the ground with the hit of the rear end of a weapon. such a hit would be rather painful- but even still he tried to get back up, yelling at the top of his lungs. ` leave them alone- or else!! ` this would only cause laughter to errupt until they were cut off by a fiery array of magic from seemingly no where. screaming would errupt from said terrorist, pointing not too far behind the injured Sylas- all of them suddenly struck with terror. there, Sephiroth stood with that staggeringly large Masamune in hand, weilding it as if it were lighter than a feather.      ` not him-- it's the war hero, Sephiroth! sh*t we're toast! ` soon enough Shinra infantry men had arrived to surround the terrorists, ready to fire at will but the sound of the Silver SOLDIER's voice echoed in the clearing with a single command ` spare their lives- detain them and bring them to headquarters immediately. ` the young boy was awestruck to say the very least-- never expecting such mercy to show from one of Shinra's SOLDIERs. quickly, the infantry had gotten to work to detain the terrorists as a helicopter hovered not too far above the slums. one thing the boy didn't expect was to be approached by the Silver SOLDIER, Sephiroth-- the one whom had just drastically changed Sylas' viewpoint of one of the things he feared most. ` you were rather brave back there for protecting all those children . . . I'd say you would make a pretty good soldier. ` though he hadn't spoken for long, the SOLDIER was already being called off to some other officials nearby. the taller male seemed to offer out a small card, seemingly contact information to the Shinra Headquarters. looking down at the small card he would suddenly look back up to see the SOLDIER long gone from his sight, probably off to help the rest of the Sector 5 slums. certainly, this singular moment had inspired the young boy-- soon followng through and joined the ranks of Shinra's SOLDIER.soon enough, Sylas had been taken under the wing of Sephiroth and became his mentee, quickly making his way up the ranks as years passed. he became good friends with another mentee to the 1st Class SOLDIER, Angeal- Zack Fair- over time before soon seeing Zack become 1st Class, and he too followed later the same year when he turned 18.the brunette had often taken on the strengths that his mentor had, excelling in magic usage- but also in physical strength and agility. though, he also seemed a bit more distant unlike most other people- but Sylas still found himself to be happy to just be able to help protect the people of Midgar- mainly the slums. as time seemed to drag on though, things began to crumble before his eyes seemingly, too far beyond his grasp to even slow down . . . . wh̴y͜ d̶i͜d ͘i҉t ͜h̕av̷e ̕t̷o ͟e̷n̡d ̸thi͠s̡ way?̧   it all hurt so much to try and remember, the memories only bringing more pain and sorrow to his mind as to see his own mentor-- the person he looked up to the most-- easily strike him down without a second thought. the physical pain didn't even pale in comparison to the sheer pain he faced mentally. only more pain seemed to follow the SOLDIER after the Nibelheim Incident . . . . wḩat͡ ha̵͝v̶́é̡͟ ҉͠ì͠ b̵e̡c̸͝om͡e̢ ?͟ ̀̕   life changing experiments done . . . fused with the cells of a monster named JENOVA, and high doses of mako- sending him into a deep comatose. a seemingly successful experiment beneath the microscope, only to awaken 4 years later as being mostly normal. to awaken in a world that told him everything he remembered was a lie- that he was truly insane. Sylas couldn't bring himself to believe Shinra-- knowing what had happened was too real to be a figment of his imagination . . . those scars he still had couldn't be a fraud.he had to run, he couldn't stay . . . and as soon as he seemingly escaped the grasp of Shinra- he appeared. his mind constantly tormented by the silver SOLDIER, Sephiroth. the ex-SOLDIER couldn't tell if it was real, or he truly was going insane from whatever he had endured in Shinra for those 4 long years after Nibelheim. he again was a lost soul in this world . . searching for some sort of purpose.soon though, he found his purpose once more in Avalanche whom became his new family, but he couldn't walk away so easily from his past. all of it resurfacing to the present and haunting his mind constantly, no matter what he did to try and block it out. t̢hę ͢c̴h͟ai͟n̸s͟ ar҉e ͞broke͜n̴,͢bu͝t̀ ar̷e͏ ҉y͠ou҉ t̡r̨u̢l͘y ̨f̵ree͡?     his voice, his face . . . . Sephiroth constantly seemed to appear in his nightmares and reality, but Sylas seemed to be the only one who suffered this fate- from what he knew at least. each passing day, something was drawing closer . . . the presence of the one-winged angel growing more and more prevalent. Sylas didn't know what it was, what this reunion even meant . . . but he feared it. ....    now he would be seated alone, overlooking the Midgar slums from one of the support pillars of the plate, watching as dusk would envelope the city into shadows- lights of the homes far below flickering on- one by one. his focus drifting off to distant thoughts that called his attention- memories resurfacing to his mind. lips seemed to press into a frown, shutting his eyes which were blighted with mako coloration.the reminiscence of these memories were often painful, like a still fresh wound being prodded at. he couldn't bear with it often, raising a gloved hand to hide his face- which had eyes welling some with tears- cursing to himself in a low tone. he felt lost and helpless to this ruthless path called destiny. only able to watch as everything around him seemed to be crumbling down.he'd slowly crouch down, keeping his hands over his head as he could hear the familiar echo of the voice of an angel which haunted him . . . taunting him and trying to make him crumble even further- causing more cracks among the surface of his mind that was already on the brink of shattering. ` and here you are . . . living despite it all . . `        

₍ 🇩🇪🇻🇮🇦🇳🇹 ₎

09/15/2020 05:44 PM 

( dbd fantasy a.u. / part two - franklin mauritius )

DBD Fantasy A.U. - Part Two – Franklin MauritiusThe Realm encompasses many tales of ordinary victims who've subjected themselves to the perfect conditions for the Entity's picking. From benign to insidious, its preference doesn't seem to favour one particular personality, leaving much of its denizens to their own devices. Among the killers lie a mysterious link that is mutually shared; unspoken, but known. There is no escaping the Voices, although certain foreigners have proven to be resilient in that regard. The Executioner comes with its own brand of esoteric occultist magic that often conflicts with the objective. It's no secret that the tainted powers behind the Metatron proved to be a different kind of nightmare for the survivors, leaving the Entity to ease off for the time being.But everyone has their share of skeletons. Franklin Mauritius is no exception, citing the profession of an infamous Resurrectionist for the time. His line of work wasn't exactly pretty, or renown for that matter; he simply excavated without a care. The dirty work was something to keep his mind off of the many suggestive thoughts that incubated within his consciousness. There's a certain pride to body harvesting that most people didn't appreciate. “He's a symbol of everything God detests. The desecration of a body is needless—find a live subject!” Though opinions differed, he was no believer in God. Some townsfolk spoke highly of the ancient texts, but where were they when he was forced to endure a reckoning beyond the Realm? Prayers never incited justice, not for him—not for anyone. It doesn't absolve the sinner of their crimes, and it didn't paint the town in a utopian delight. Often scoffed at for bearing the Entity's mark, their faces meant little throughout his day-to-day.The disapproval was nothing new to Franklin; he's always experienced criticism throughout his years, though he isn't the oldest among the pantheon. He was always different in a not-so-endearing way, having to make the best out of nothing all while enduring the strict hand of his would-be guardians that shifted throughout his life. He knew little of his biological caretakers and dismissed the notion that a home ever existed. Despite his ploys to dismiss and separate himself, he did discover a deep affinity for camaraderie. The notions of an off-family; a brethren that stood the test of time was rather comforting. He'd never make it known, and despite the arrangements among the infamous killers, he didn't mind 'em so much.A few exceptions came to mind that irked Franklin beyond expectation. Kenneth Chauncey, affectionately known a a jester of some kind had a nasty way of harboring his desires for debauchery and would frequently be called out by the Entity for the means he handles the female survivors. It does the cast no good if a survivor becomes unresponsive, which come in various forms. Kenneth's preferred means involved mutilation of a dangerously affectionate brand that progressed into sexual gratification. It wasn't hard to tell who he'd press continuously, as some of 'em were easily startled. Egregiously pained, their aggressiveness that sparked a flame for survival fueled his disgusting tendencies.Franklin became cognizant of the aforementioned after a manic encounter with Meaghan Thompson—the ginger among the group. Prior to her repeat encounters with the Clown's antics, she seemed quite sure of herself and allowed for the fight-or-flight response to kick in at a moment's notice. “HEHEH! I see one of mine are up for ya' in the trial! It took some time, but she's developed into somethin' I say is worth every penny... You'll understand what I mean when ya' try to approach her. They're all like that deep down; it takes a certain touch to bring 'em out. HA! HA!” he exclaimed before attempting to pat the harvester on the shoulder.“—I didn't need to know that, and don't f***in' touch me. You make it harder than it needs to be for the rest of us.”“Eh? What's this about? Are ya' mad I got to her first...?”“I don't care about the red-haired bitch, but whatever ye' f***in' did ALL OF US are going to pay for. Ain't none of this sh*t convincin' if they're burned ye' bellend. That's why I'm mad.”“Oh, like you don't do the same thing boy? If I remember correctly—lemme' see here—the last couple punishments were because of You. Not only that, it wasn't even a criminal thing either. Ya' had somethin' going on—I lost all feeling in my gratifying hand because of you, so f*** off with the martyr talk. If I didn't know any better, I'd kill you myself.Don't think for a f***in' second just because there's four of—oh, wait a minute! There Used To Be four of ya'. What happened, Franklin? That was Your Fault, wasn't it?” Engorged lips curled into a smug expression, satisfied with the end result. He knew where to hit 'em if all else failed. Franklin had a penchant for pissing him off more than he count account for.“F*** off with that. I ain't talkin' about it. Ye' don't know sh*t.”“Awh, I'm so sorry for your loss—I really am... You ain't been the same since. It's not like they're dead or anything! HAH!”“...”The tale the Clown mentioned dates back before the Fall. Franklin is no stranger to troublesome situations, and somewhere in a past life, his sins have caught up to him. Amidst the public eye among the killers where punishment must be paid in full, the Entity had a unique set of arrangements for him all along. While it took some time, the anticipation that derived from his untimely fate would delve a mighty blow to the lonesome fellow. For particular problems, the Entity relocated the pantheon to a sub-realm where swift dealings could be handled. In Frankli—Frank's case, he sought the highest forms of treason against the Entity with utter disregard for the rules. And with each debilitating stretch, his body dwindled in manners that couldn't be supported on vitality alone. He's a defiant one, and would often dismiss the claims of his actions that had an adverse effect on his fellow killers.It was never in the cards that a situation could arise wherein hearts could collide in a tangled mess that stressed the very Realm beyond its means. Despite his connection to the Voices, he stayed true—very much so, to one particular individual. He fought for his time, swindled the proverbial clock every which way all while ascertaining a selfish, self-serving delight that bewitched him at every turn. And what began as a test of sexual reprisal; an arrogant, pompous taste of unrelenting pride twisted into an entirely different spectacle. At the height of their exchange, it's been made bold that his affinity for that damned woman remained fixated. Unbreakable even with the inconvenience of separating the two. They still managed to come together, even if Benedict's theories coupled with Vigo's many experimental advancements were all but a pipe dream.It seems the two have braved the depths of the Realm, though not quite the Void, over an impulsive, developing feeling that something more can exist. Unforeseen, and untold, the whispers of a loving reprieve couldn't be any truer.Forged from the deepest flames, seated on a whim, for the life of him, he couldn't remember the final moments before the Entity stepped in to whisk him and the crew away. He wasn't the only person to incur the punishment meant solely for Frank Morrison, but its effects stuck with him throughout the transition. A burden for each, three souls that laid strewn in their purest form. Deep down, his lone style is merely a cover-up for camaraderie he much desired. The assembly of the Legion couldn't be whole without 'em, but how about in Him? Through the Entity's mysterious means, it struck an accursed brand upon him by infusing his spiritual essence with the souls of his “friends”. With each soul carries a great burden he's forced either to endure, or overcome. There is no clear-cut means to solve each individuals' restlessness, but if he wanted them back, he'd have to come to terms.For Joseph, the symbol of death—a harbinger of the reaper tinged from his throat. A thirst for souls developed into something far more decrepit. While Franklin wasn't the most particular in-regards to his palette, he'd never find himself having a taste for emaciated flesh. The decay, the pestilence, its diseased-ridden entrails do little to deter the man from the march. Coupled with Joseph's spirit, there are instances and outbreaks where a feverish thirsty for live meat becomes insatiable. The death of someone—something along the way has its means to quell the aches, but it does not replace the sensation of flesh. Raw, preferably. It seems that Joseph has always had a taste for murder, there's no mistaking his aggressive ways, but he's also been a curious individual at heart. Quick to skim through the finer details, there was once a desire for understanding. He's had a keen awareness for the things around him, even if he wasn't very famed for anything beyond petty crimes. But despite this, he's never been satisfied with his findings, and would often be angered at the prospect of false truths. He sought something for the longest time, but the others had no clue of what. What was he hiding?In Suzanna's case, it was difficult to pin-point the remnants of her spirit. She's always been a reclusive one who traversed the dream world within her affectionately famed imagination. A stargazer, and someone who'd wish the very moonlight to rain down upon the nocturnal realm, there was always a child-like disposition to her the others hadn't understood. In her past life, she was something of a thief. Impulsive in every way when an opportunity presents itself, her deft hands made quick work of just about anything within her means. Her spirit is plagued with guilt, occluded by a dark tinge to the purple spectacle that housed her sixth sense, it often 'caused conflict with Franklin's head—having already been afflicted with the Entity's accursed muses. A deep desire for penitence; reassurance from the others were things he couldn't bring himself to admit. The lack of empathy presented towards Suzanna's case made it difficult to sleep, though he never considered the fact that their energy could have such an effect.The past suggested of another, a woman in this case. A foreigner to a different continent within the countryside along a realm far more lively than the Entity could provide masked an old heart that the past left behind. Though the two scrounged their differences and managed to maintain the 'guise of the Legion, the pieces of a broken relationship were the biggest burden of all. Peering into the amber wisp, the two were a product of survival. Mean-spirited but menacing a dark shadow lays upon Julie Kostenko. An expression so sinister Franklin could feel its weight within his chest, obfuscated by the ethical take Frank sought to rectify that fateful night—all of which have been obscured within the memory. It isn't his place to peer, but the feelings run rampant. Confusion and mistrust; contempt that holds a passionate, crackling spark beneath any light, Julia Constantine has been wronged. It's woefully telling in the inability to mesh with his vitality—a refusal even the Entity itself couldn't force.It appears that beneath the surface, her past isn't lingering onto an old relationship, but rather, resolution. A respectful peace to ease the masses, she was always left behind when the time was convenient. The narrative in-question set the pace for a far more insidious interaction, with a hint of violence that remained unsettling within the Realm. Did she share her pain with the others? The survivors, even? She's hidden something, much to Franklin's dismay.“You just 'gonna stand there, or you got somethin' to do? Don't make me invade those dreams of yours—the mind ain't protected by the Entity, heheheh.” Whisking of the blades, and that clandestine laugh. It couldn't of been anyone else but Frederick Krueger himself. Always one to press Franklin, he wasn't the type to sit back and take his demeaning commentary.“It'd be a f***in' shame to get rearranged in your own realm, wouldn't it Demon? What do I do, call out to you? Demon of the Sands, Oh Demon; won't you come through with an Alchemist's elixir~? Piss off! I got better sh*t to do than to f*** around with you.”“You're right, kid. You do have better things to do. You're living on borrowed time, just like the rest of them. Even I know that, and I'm not real. Hahahahahaha! Better move quick, Body Snatcher. I can smell their lives fading. Imagine that, a four-for-one special, and I ain't impressed in the slightest.”“Ye' know what else ain't impressive? The fact that ye' forget how easy it is to get 'outta ye' bullsh*t. Those survivors turned your head on a swivel with their alchemy. Ye' never guessed what metallic seasonin' could do to the lucid mind.But tch, whatever. I'm 'outta here. Keep your hands off of the kids, Chester. It'd be a shame if this place went to ruin because ye' thought ye' could pull a fast one on the Entity.”After the get-together and formalities settled, he ventured off with the notion that his time was facilitated. There's also a festering hunger he'd rather not get involved with publicly. The shame that came with his festive consumption was often unsightly, and outright embarrassing for him. The shame coupled with Joseph's combined insatiable feast made it difficult to deny his urges. Feral Frenzy for the most part was controllable—during trial hours. Longer periods without a trial in-sight presented a whole new host of issues for Franklin that couldn't be subdued by simple prayer or the Entity's punishment. He needed something more—hard-hitting, if that made sense. His search for the next best thing came with another sighting. An older order that was filed for the days to come requested the pilfering of select goods off of an antiquated harvest, suggesting the body laid in a sepulcher akin to the high and mighty. The thought alone repulsed him, but he made due with the opportunity for some coin. Oddly enough, it was rare for the client not to request the cadaver itself—just their belongings? Seems as though they're in a similar predicament, but he wasn't one to discriminate.He did his best not to be seen, making use of similar movements his adept companion would've been akin to had she been around. Despite his hungered state, he wasn't frail and was able to maneuver in ways most of his colleagues would gawk to recreate themselves. The travel was light, only packing the essentials—an old scythe to weave out troublesome stones and debris; a shovel to clear a path and an old metal rod fastened with a stone to create sparks necessary to relight the torch he carried 'round for deep-dive investigations. He could do for some tobacco, but the Entity wasn't so kind to provide and the local flora couldn't provide the nutrients necessary to facilitate growth. Tragic, really.Traversing the tomb, he picked and prodded away meticulously as he would with any other interior. He's quite pedantic with his work, always making sure to double check the loose stones for traps and other unwelcome gizmos stashed away. The infamously wealthy wouldn't allow a peon to sift freely—usually. He did eventually come across the tomb, labeled in some estranged archaic runic language. There's no way to decipher the codec beyond the reference sheet he possessed, but he didn't pretend to know more than he was informed of. It's needless, but he proceeded to overturn the stone covering. The contents were there—a handful of wares that were keen for the client, and the corpse itself looked to be fairly recent. Give or take a few days, but the signs of a still corpse conjured nauseating thoughts. With a glance, he looked back before delving in to the bed.A brief appreciation, while repulsive as dirty fingertips graced the deceased. Scarlet brightened within his eyes, citing the might of Feral Frenzy with hastened strikes. Nails dug deep, clawing with a visceral take and bloodspatter aplenty 'til the decaying chunks were enough to pick away at. Ragged, but gloved hands peeled away at the darkened matter before carrying out his consumption. The struggle to keep a straight face as he tried to look away didn't help that deep-seated satisfaction he got from every bite. The sensations of meat akin to a mushy but viscous texture gave the tongue mixed signals. There was nothing to scoff at in that department, but the taste left much to be desired. If the blood hadn't gone rancid, he'd actually have something to appreciate. In a quiet Hell he quickly consumed what was required before covering the body back up. Bloodied fingerprints laid strewn against the stone cover, but it couldn't be helped 'til at the very last moment, something slipped between the coffin and its cover: a note. It looked awfully old, and appeared to have a bit of text that suggested a forest of sorts.“The darkest of conditions were obstacles to overcome. For the elusive mist of the Forest Past would become a place that soothes. Dangerous and astray, it's an arduous trek I'd say. But if you feel ill, take a moment, if you will. There's always something of value in the farthest of places; out of reach, but not out-of-sight. If you can manage, you may find what you are looking for. A sleepless night? Pain that gouges the essence of the soul? Begone as one of the Forest would suggest. It's all but a rumor. If it's a 'gest, the creatures of the night will put a swift claim to the Soul, no matter how blood-stained or bastardized you might be.”He couldn't believe it. Did such a thing exist? Did the realm beyond the border hold such a remedy even for an accursed man? He wasn't exactly a believer in heresy, but something tells him he didn't have much of a say in the matter. A body harvester with nothing to lose, the odds were against him. Tired, and confused, he dug himself out of the tomb's hole before following the loose illustration beneath the text. The labyrinth of the town had to have an exit of some kind, farce to say. It's also unlikely that the others knew much about it, and he couldn't approach survivors without a third party getting in the way.To say the journey would be simple was understating it severely. While he's no home-body, he never dared trek beyond the borders. It's something of a mystery, even for him. As many bodies as he's desecrated, the few notes he's managed to scrounge together only suggest a timeless passage. The air's different beyond the town, and its denizens that stalk the borders are creatures of unrivaled capacity. Benedict suggests that the lot are illusions, eclipsed by the moonlit waters that surround the land. The images around 'em are rather deceitful, and prove to shapeshift just as he could when the situation calls for it. It was all theories however, and without any certainty beyond his shovel and trusted armament, he'd only find out first-hand.Sometimes, if you call out to the mist a wisp of energy appears. Captivating in every way, her elusive presence can be seen when visions become obscured by the climate. Her powers are esoteric and seem to transcend the boundaries of what the Entity has agency over, but perhaps it's a different kind of magic within itself. It's all word-of-mouth, but—there has to be some truth to everything.( to be continued - part III )

₍ 🇩🇪🇻🇮🇦🇳🇹 ₎

09/15/2020 05:22 PM 

( dbd fantasy a.u. / part one - introduction )

The Hallowed Blight — DBD A.U.The aroma of pestilence and death lingers in the air as the twilight sky occluded in a lavender tinge blankets the night. There's much to appreciate within the dreary Neolithic infrastructure that towers over the Realm. Its denizens weren't aware of the peculiar intricacies that laced their beloved setting, but the days of a lone campfire were long gone. The mysterious means that established each person, indiscriminate to the rules—both survivor and killer harkoned a new era of mortifying prosperity among 'em.There were no known records of the anomaly, nor a change in scenery. It's as if the Entity acted out of impulse; a change of pace, or the forgetfulness that came with an interdimensional paradigm. The others knew nothing of what laid about, but acted as if nothing had changed. Perhaps he underestimated the gravity of the Entity's influence, as it seemed to act independently of the killers that once were. They've certainly taken a different form coming through the mysterious rift.Dr. Herman Mac Artair, an infamous quack doctor known for his neurological blunders found the changes to be delightful, citing his experiments with a wretched passion that shook the hearts of his once opposing victims. That wasn't to say he wouldn't ascertain their assistance when called upon—there's no rules to muster within the decree of the Hallowed Blight. It's the wild, wild west amidst the town, and everyone's looking to score. To say he's quite eccentric is an understatement. His electrodes possess a different kind of power, fueled by the Doctor's morbid curiosity for the macabre, his interests have always remained high. With no way to express his gratitude beyond the blood-curdling cries of his test subjects, he ensured with the utmost haste that the laboratory results would get the job done.It wasn't hard to tell when a finding was discovered; the violent crackling among the dusty atmosphere rippled with a menacing luminescence that paled in comparison to conventional electricity. The sparks rummaged throughout the lightning conduction, spelling another poor soul for the taking. He was never the type to limit himself to a fair practice. Exceed expectations—go beyond the scope of brevity!In other cases, however, they weren't so fortunate. Amelia Jung sought a perilous path of salvation through the Entity's praise, knowing little of what it was actually capable of. While she reigned as a harbinger of death—an executioner in her own right, her frail, unhinged mind slipped through the cracks into a miserable mess. The devout mindset; an entitlement best described as atrociously forthcoming became a devious mark across her terror.It always struck him that she was more human than the others appeared to be, but she gave in so easily to the plight, there's nothing left. Was it a call of loneliness? The dissatisfaction of Johnathan Kramer was to blame? Hidden truths seemed to elude the others, and it was never questioned whether or not the vitriolic application was a product of the Entity. Scorn burned deep, and those roots were far entrenched beyond the Entity's comprehension. It didn't factor emotional turmoil, nor the implication of a sleight she may have up her sleeve. Disguised as a merchant, her wares were of the exotic brand. An eye-for-an-eye; a dagger unsightly, but ornate in design. In other cases, the occasional ailment was necessary. She was no apothecary, but kept a keen hand on difficult-to-get materials. With some knowledge on synthesis, there's quite a lot she could do with the right ingredients, even if the cost came hefty.While she had a home, much of her fate has forced a nomadic lifestyle. Braving the barrier beyond the busted cobblestone road, she broods her way across, leaving llittle but the faint wisp of Jigsaw's Baptism for the others to see. Mechanical etchings; an ironwork that rusted beyond neglect. Its dilapidated aesthetic left much to be desired, though she promised to leave behind the contraption. As a memoir, and perhaps a final note. Gone were the days of the burden she hoped for—but that didn't stop her from cleansing the streets among the Hallowed Blight.With the killers, a new set of doctrines were instituted through the elaborate effort of the whispering voices that compelled them as a collective. The beckoning was an underlying eldritch knowledge, esoteric by nature but unable to be deciphered. Its cypher remained a privacy even the greatest of minds like Vigo couldn't decode.For the Survivors, their stories seemed to stem from a collective rite. Many appeared to take up the apprenticeship of a false belief. Vigo, as it seems, hadn't manifested within the Realm despite their ploys of traversing the Void. A true survivor in his own right, he's also something of a craftsman. Through smarts and ingenuity, his tinkerer's nature enabled a practical application for the blighted mess that plagued a horrid atrocity among the alumni pantheon. Blisters and boils, their clothing has been soiled. Perforated, they wander; in a daze that pops the moment a step is taken forward. They too, have become their own brand of survivor, and braved the malformed modifications until the Entity's intervention.The research involved was carefully picked from the archaic notes left strewn throughout Vigo's choice of housing—where the survivors lingered. Their residence wasn't anything of particular interest; books upon books in a dust, decrepit home that a few of 'em did their best to make hospitable. The young maid, astute in every sense but also a fine caretaker, Lauletta Moore sought to rectify the abode with a restoration in order. She beckoned the others to pitch in and do the same, much to the others' dismay. Throughout their cleaning, the crew rummaged around, finding bits and pieces of an overlapping facet of knowledge depicting the Realm's deepest secrets, though much of its context was indiscernible Latin. Even with their collective minds, it'd take a little more than a translator to decipher the pictographs and other encrypted messages Vigo chose to meticulously add as a failsafe. What the Entity couldn't gather, the Entity couldn't rid someone of, no matter what.Despite this, however, the others hadn't known such a fact. It's deeply embedded within a scripture only the dangerously curious could hope to uncover, for its knowledge within could drive a person asunder. Benedict Baker, the open-book survivalist briefly spoke in a note lifted from the carefully laid totem just beyond the graveyard, housing a suggestive nature that could bring much insight to the apt pupils 'round town.“I swear I've seen it all—it behooves me that no such thing exists elsewhere! I once read of Vigo's theory behind the Void; what an accursed mess that Realm has become by the sounds of it. I cannot delve into much detail, but I shall leave whoever stumbles upon this letter something of value.The symbols depict something ancient, deep across the recreated territories those damned killers protect. It's almost as if they're prisoners of something bigger—larger than the ducts themselves. Take note of any suspicious, sentient markings. They are nothing like the Metatron divine I spoke about with the Executioner, but it does correlate with an outside force. Deciphering the truth will lay the foundation for the End. A day where others can escape. I am certain.”The most they could hope for, was that Benedict is truthful in the way he professed. While they weren't the dumbest cast, there's much to be uncovered amidst the copious annals of the Archives themselves. Rumor has it that an older husk of a building exists, dialpidated from the extierior that houses the much needed information the others before them hoped to obtain. It's farce to say that such a thing exists, as no one's laid claim to such a structure. The story wasn't the first to be heard—there was living proof, disguised as a drawing by an unknown artist, it speaks volumes to the breadth of what could be something special. It's likely the location is buried beyond the barrier that encompasses the Hallowed Blight, but a private sector—somewhere—could bypass its estranged energy. If only, if only it were that simple.  - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Elsewhere, depicted in the catacombs laid a man of many woes. Faced with uncertainty, he's a bit of an anomaly. The festering within became an intrusive defilement the closer someone approached. Deeper and deeper, he dug away at the emaciated flesh, though the corpse itself didn't seem particularly ancient. It's likely to have been deposited a little under two days or so, but for Franklin Mauritius, its state mattered not. He clawed and slashed away, indiscriminate and uncaring towards the haphazard application. Was he always like this?The taste of rotten flesh hadn't bothered him in the slightest. It's unlikely that the flavor has a way with him, but rather the catharsis sensations that compel the Hallowed Blight's resurrectionist to feast with a menacing grin. Accursed crimson eyes, and a feral escape of morbid breath could arouse the deceased. The sight grew unsightly very quickly, for Hannibal Morrison had his own means to satiate. Alive or dead, there's no stopping his feast. The scourge within the deep, he braves any crevice when the time comes to feed. This is but one of many unfortunate blunders the Entity has struck its citizens with. Killers too, can have the short end of the stick.( to be continued / part II )

₍ 🇩🇪🇻🇮🇦🇳🇹 ₎

09/15/2020 04:02 PM 

( f.j.s.j. au / dbd / delving into the legion )

FJSJ — The Corporeal MasqueradeDarkness is sentient among the Entity's culling. The obsidian wisps whisk away a frightening maelstrom. It appears that Benedict's notes hadn't remain truthful to the development of another divisive nightmare within the nocturnal realm. Foretold by the whispers, the plight of times' past developed its own narrative. WILLED into existence, the corporeal mass took shape of a humanoid husk. Hallowed through the center, akin to an effigy. No flesh, no bone—no writhing souls to bear witness. They'd be captured from the previous crop of victims unfortunate enough to succumb to divine punishment.The four of 'em posed quite a struggle, as the Entity found them inseparable. A warrior spirit? Certainly not, but among the bunch, they possessed a collective tenacity that could disrupt the mightiest of connections. Their souls tether to the promise of a “better life”, but the realm doesn't play. There's no second chance—no bitter reprisals. Only the purest of 'guises can tread with safe passage, for all but one managed to brave the mangled trenches in search of respite. She's but a lone soul; a delightful flower. The auburn streaks laced with goldenrod nectar—there was nothing else like her. A legend in her own right, bless her soul.There's DARKNESS AMONG 'EM, and for their treachery, a grave price is paid. Tortured souls, fused within the alchemic magistry; a forced benediction among the apothecary that couldn't bear witness. It's a tragedy, truly. The shadows take shape, draped in a prismatic autumn that polarized the veil that surrounds the realm. It crackles, it creeps—the flicker of inferno, aroused by the four torn asunder. It's a wonder how they managed not to lose their grip as one collective blunder.To begin, it dates back to their infamous criminal mastermind—Frank Morrison. A troubled man, much like the others whose had everything delightful pilfered from his cold, dead fingertips. That's not to say it's all undeserved—someone struck a nerve and forced his hand. Destined for demise, its no surprise the boy struck back on full tilt, bastardizing the gymnasium in a scornful tirade. It's unclear what really went on, but something burned deep within. A passionate conviction burst at the seams, and the referee found himself knocked out in a winded breeze. He was once a basketball phenom; problematic in his own right, but a shinning star on the court. But after that fateful evening, one poor decision snowballed into a life changing direction. He stripped himself of the good boy aspirations, scoffed at the sight of academic institutions and did away with any athletic aptitudes, all in one fell swoop. Tattoos? Not-a-problem. Let's get a skull with sleeves to match; a few piercings here-and-there. The semi-formal wears were stripped away with a rugged jacket. He'd never drop the hood, all within the same span of a few months. A craftsman of a delinquent crime syndicate, the collective mischief of him and his group sparked an outcry. Unfortunately for Frank, the rewards were short-lived, as he found himself alongside his peers on the edge of darkness itself. The perforating, stringent essence that burned a hole into reality itself lulled them in one-by-one, never to be seen again.The second of the four sacraments goes by the name “Julie”. Julie Kostenko. Something of an anomaly, she too was an outcast. Never fit the bill socially despite her unique beauty that seemed to tickle Frank's fancy at some point during their high school endeavors. She too possessed a fire for something more, but at the expense of what? An intimate exchange raped all sense of self at the hands of that damned perpetrator within the school, sabotaging far more than her self worth. It's almost as if she lived life on the seams; her tether remains loose. Caution thrown aside, she stuck out the ride with no care in mind. To her, there wasn't much to stay committed for, and entertained Frank's dastardly schemes. She seems to have a history of poor interactions with adults—it didn't stop at the school, but the gang came equipped. Within the well, there's wounds deep down. Merciless in her application, the meticulous approach hadn't rubbed off, much to Frank's surprise. Passionate strikes, and a murderous delight. Julie developed a taste for retribution; the conviction much needed for the Entity's bidding.Suzie's something of a unique case. A stray among losers, her innocent disposition wasn't quite what someone would expect. It seems she has a knack for the patty-wap, catch-a-cat, steal-your-sh*t-in-one-false-act. Was she a kleptomaniac? Possibly, though it could be argued it was less for personal gain and more for the sport—whatever that meant. Resourceful, but not the most confident. It took quite a few endearing words from Frank and Julie to get her taste for mischief going. The pretense for “something better” was always a wish, and she played along the marching band. Frank hadn't questioned her belongings, though he thought the lot of it was unnecessary. Fast hands aren't a thing if a teddy bear's swingin', but without her material goods, she's hopeless. There's just some things that can't be taken from the girl, no matter how profound they may be. An apt thief, there was something to take from her deft reach. Silent, but steady, he never thought someone so uncertain possessed great dexterity.Lastly, there's Joe. “Joey”. Not much of a talker. It took some coaxing on the girls' behalf to get him goin', but once he came around, he and Frank remained quite sound. From the looks of it, Joe had a knack for automotive work and was something of a mechanic despite not pursuing an education past 16. He hadn't cared about the uncertainty of his career path—life's too short, and there's a party to be had. Scrapping wasn't unorthodox for him, he's used to confrontation. Often mistaken as a troublemaker, his quiet demeanor is often misread alongside systemic roots dating back to his days in Detroit as a younger lad. Conflict was a way of life, and the pistol's a comfort; a luxury throughout the night. Not everyone could turn the corner without breaking out into a firefight, but if he had to—he'd snap necks to stay alive.They're not religious, far from it in-fact. There's anarchist beliefs for sure; the chaos bears a cross for everyone to mast. It's from those mayhem roots where the populace flourished. And within the mastermind's hand, he'd make full use of every tool available. The steadfast disregard for authority; a passionate contempt with ferocity for all; a knack for tinkering, with a snide, cunning that could coax most; the brutal upbringing that could change a situation at any time. They're all components for the DARKNESS AMONG US. From their resurrection, the cultivated talents would prove quite the adversary for those beloved survivors, graced by Benedict's protection.From the kindling, bears a spark to assimilate a mannequin that internalized the sorrows of those unfortunate souls. The misfits, collectively, gave way to a new demeanor. Their thoughts, overlapped; their skills, all in-tact. They'd brave the Entity's path and carve a name for themselves.FEAR the LEGION! We ARE the LEGION! AMONG US, darkness FALLS. Heed our call, or else—you'll FALL!

🌸Queen mayleen of heaven🌸

09/14/2020 10:32 PM 


Name Mayleen Madaline Fangston age 35  sex female  Race goddess Hellhound vampire mix Goddess rank  goddess of love forgiveness and infertality nature  Hellhound rank Princess vampire Princess  height 5'5' weight  110 LBs  eyes pink or brown  hair pink or dark brown sometime white status single  oritation bi  mostly straight Powers healing wishing granting foresighttransformation strong hearing strong smell strong smell strong tastestrong jumping strong running strong vission plant growth and healingwater breathing breaths in space planet creation  bring one back from the death obsorbing powers stealing gifts and powers speaking to animalsspeaking to planets speaking to ghost and undead sumon the dead summon demons summon hells fire sucking life force changing ones mind dream gift powers she things come true when she dreams or day dreams gifting powers to others can not die but can be reborn granting wishes with dust 

🌸Queen mayleen of heaven🌸

09/14/2020 10:28 PM 


NO one liners allowed on this account more then one liners  if your married or taken we can not role play and you can not add me only single people can add me NO lollies or shotas allowed yuck you need to go to prison to think that sh*t no random starters allowed its forbidden  if you add me you send me a greeting if i add you i send you a greeting NO anime theme role plays allowed or anime shows or games ect. she is packing extra so if you like that let me know if you do not tell me in advance.  other futas are welcome to add me and role play with me  she is sub and dom both switch depending on who she is with  NO femboys allowed alright not into them  animals and monsters are welcome to add me your all more then welcome if you want to date her you have to put taken in your name if you wish to claim her as your mate or lover  if you wish to be her family let me know in advance so i can put it down in her info below in the blog  NO grammar police i dont use pucuations ether. 

Alba Meira™ The Devil Of Daybreak

09/14/2020 10:31 PM 

Preferred Genres

-------------------------------------------Final List-------------------------------------------Action[ I only like action if the actual story progression is smooth and engaging ]Adventure [ I adore adventure roleplays especially if the plot is engaging enough to go on. ]Fighting[ Like I told another person I am a beast at fighting but what am I getting out of it? Make it interesting for me. ]Slice Of Life[ I enjoy these RP's a lot especially if I can go back and forth with said person. ]Romance[ I favor these type of roleplays but I do NOT Multi Ship reason being is simple time is money dont waste my time and I wont waste yours. ] Spar / Tournament [ See Fighting I'm good enough to beat anybody on this site I just dont care for it if there is nothing in it for me. ]Time Travel Themes[ I absolutely ADORE these themes a lot. ]Group / Faction Roleplay.[ I prefer being part of an elite group than being lumped in with the masses I'm actually interested in joining a decent roleplay Family not one that is drama intensive but one that is right in the middle.  ]Biblical / Supernatural [ I'm all for that sh*t. ]Celestial Themes [  I like that style of RP too. ]----------------------------------------------------


09/14/2020 12:31 PM 


Known Name: MelanthaGender: FemaleRace: FelineMelantha is the captain of Op Reserve Team A4 and a citizen of Victoria. Before she took up her current post, she was a typical jobless Infected. After an exceptional performance on her tests, she received an offer to join Rhodes Island. Clinical Analysis Imaging tests have shown the outlines of her internal organs to be indistinct due to abnormal shadows. Originium granules have been detected in her circulatory system, confirming her to be infected with Oripathy.[Cell-Originium Fusion Rate] 2%Subject is mildly infected. There is a lesion upon the subject's left shoulder, though the infection has largely been contained and is in stable condition.[Blood Crystal Density] 0.25u/LResults of internal circulation tests have been positive. Strength training is recommended as part of the course of treatment."Melantha is still growing and needs to eat food high in nutrients." - Medic Team Intern Hibiscus Archive File 1 Melantha was born in Londinium, the capital of the Kingdom of Victoria. Her father is a trader engaged in the bulk spice trade. He runs several spice mills of his own. Her mother is the head of the family's aromatherapy flagship store in the heart of Londinium.Following in the footsteps of her parents, Melantha got involved in spices at a very young age, often assisting them in developing new aromatherapy products. Melantha's experiences have been heavily influenced by her parents. Archive File 2 Melantha was a student at the Wessex Private Middle School when she was young. She received exceptional marks in all her classes, but because she was soft spoken and lacked communication skills, she was never the center of attention or very popular.Her lack of friends remains due to her unwillingness to change her personality. With her parents' help, she immersed herself into upper-class academic activities, including art, literature, and poetry. In traditional Victorian society, the arts are an important part of a woman's formal education.In addition, in order to strengthen her weak constitution, Melantha's parents arranged for her to study swordsmanship and other popular upper-class sports.After the Infected crisis broke out, Melantha was herself Infected. Her parents arranged for her to receive treatment from Rhodes Island Pharmaceutical's. And before long, she was on the way to the company for treatment. Archive File 3 Melantha has a close relationship with all the other members of Op Reserve Team A4. Introverted by nature, she initially worried about whether she would be able to serve well in her role as Op Reserve Team A4's captain, but with the help of her companions on the team, she broke through her inner obstacles.The lively and cheerful Cardigan is her inseparable friend. In both life and on the battlefield, they maintain a strong and complementary relationship.Melantha also has great respect for the mature and dependable Operator Steward. She feels both guilty and grateful to Ansel, who is in charge of maintaining her health records as well as providing her with daily treatment. Finally, Adnachiel is the Operator that Melantha understands the least. Since the beginning, she has struggled to figure out what this kid from Laterano might be thinking. Nevertheless, Adnachiel hasn't caused any problems in battle.During her tenure as captain, her subordinates have all spoken highly of her attentive and careful nature. Her serious and disciplined qualities have enabled her to complete all the missions Rhodes Island has entrusted to her. Archive File 4 So far, both existing archives and the observations of her fellow Operators have failed to grasp just what kind of swordsmanship Melantha employs. This is one of Melantha's few mysteries.Judging from test records and daily battle videos, her swordsmanship appears to have originated from the Victorian traditional duelist's style, but at some point during her training, she must have picked up some heavy influences from Eastern sword arts.Melantha's weapon can also be looked at as a kind of circumstantial evidence for this. She uses an exceptionally fine yet extremely sharp straight sword. Current data makes clear that this weapon is only used in Yen and some parts of the Far East.Melantha's swordsmanship is agile and her skills are outstanding. In terms of combat techniques, Melantha has is skilled in tactical assault. Even without support, she can rely upon her mobility to move about the battlefield and hide when necessary.On the other hand, Melantha lacks the ability for effective direct confrontation and she displays certain deficiencies in stability during high-intensity operations.Up until now, Melantha has trained under the guidance of Franka. 


09/13/2020 02:45 PM 

Tigress vs Tiger: Jade Palace

((This is a battle between Tigress and Tiger, two tigers looking to see who was best. If you would like to post feel free but post as a spectator and please don't interfere with the match directly.)) Tigress would be sitting in the center of the training yard as she awaited for Tiger to show up. She had issued a challenge to him earlier in the day and he had accepted much to her delight. The last time that had a match together he had managed to beat her but this time was going to be different, she had continued her training and now had better control of her chi energy and she felt this would help give her a little bit of an edge over him. It was true Tiger could control his own chi as well but now the level should be a little more even between the two of them now. She had her eyes closed with her paws resting in her lap as she meditated, going over her strategy. This match was a friendly one but between her and Tiger there was always a bit of competitive energy due to the fact that they both were tigers perhaps and one always had to be the better and Tigress knew she was equal to him in almost every way but she did like to have the chance to say that she was the top tiger for once, it was her pride talking as Tiger was not one to hold such a thing over her he always saw it as extra training with a worthy sparring partner. "Hmmm...if I could win just once I think I wouldn't try to push this so much on him."


09/12/2020 10:58 PM 

role plays allowed and not allowed

 romance  slice of life  fantasy  supernatural  ero  smut  role plays i do not do gore anime theme role plays anime show base game base no master or misstress no foot fetishes no abusing her NO shota or Lollies allowed 


09/12/2020 10:53 PM 


NO one liners allowed  muilt para only   i will not role play with someone who is taken or married with someone else only single people only can add me  no random starters allowed  you add me you send me a greeting  if i add you i will send you a greeting   no mutes allowed  if you are packing extra you can only have a normal size you know what if you want to do romance with emma  if you are a futa you must add details and no lack of details got it. she will not be taken from just anyone if you want to date her we have to talk and see if they will work out before it happens  she is not human she is a goddess just so you know  NO gore or killing not into that sh*t  details later on in blog in what type of role plays i will do in a seprate blog 


09/12/2020 01:08 PM 

Rude characters

Playing a character who is rude? Cool, more power to you, a variety in traits in personality is always good.  Issues arise when a person who for example dislikes being cussed at decides to have their character do just that.  Getting upset out of character because someone responds in kind to your character's actions in character is kinda weak.  You should never treat in character actions and banter as ooc attacks upon yourself.   Recently i dealt with someone who upon my character asking his a question immediately went to calling my character a bitch and was rather rude.  Did i get upset over it in or out? No, that character clapped back at him.  Now, the person who started got all in his feelings ooc and blocked me when he got clap back for his rudeness and called out over his lack of knowledge in character.  That's someone who cannot roleplay a rude character because they're too sensitive to handle the hits back when they decide to be rude.If you rp a rude character, remember, detach yourself from the character, a character clapping back at yours isn't an attack on you, if you cant handle people being rude to your character... at all, skip the rudeness, and most importantly... dont be fragile and crumple easily ooc wise when pressure is put against your character for being rude. 

schwarze Zerbrechlichkeit


09/11/2020 10:53 PM 


Bringing back an old character gotta get this series going again it's been dead for way to longso the name is belldandy and I'm a first class goddess and the jewelry I wear are power sealers to block my full potential of my powers. I am looking for mains but I also welcome crossovers as long as you think a story plot will work. I am an AU and I do write multipara so feel free to add me. I'm still working on my bio and character 

Kuro [MCRP]

09/11/2020 09:46 PM 

[Fighting Game] Kuro

Full name: Kenith "Kuro" JacksonBirthdate: May 15thBirthplace: North AmericaHeight: 188 cm (6'1")Weight: 99.8 kg (221 lbs)Blood type: AFamily relatives: Unknown mother & fatherLikes: Boxing, traveling, boobs.Dislikes: Hardasses, puzzles, gunsHobbies: ParkourFavorite food: PancakesForte in sports: American footballFavorite music: EurobeatFighting style: BoxingPersonality:Kuro is often a serious, loner type who at times can be very stubborn as well as difficult to deal with due to this. He takes most things he does seriously, and is often quiet and to himself when not around people he likes, though is more talkative towards those he dislikes talking with remarks of disdain. He can often cause altercations of violence if people push him too far, though this is only when people "rub him the wrong way". He is a responsible person, most of the time, and takes his responsibilities seriously. He also respects those who are strong in their own ways. He can be rude towards those who use positions of power to wish for respect and has no problem telling such people how he feels.The more lighter tones of Kuro's personality are his love for women's breasts and his love for boxing. He wishes to be the strongest fighter in the world, and used to idealistically think that it was strongest without using other styles, until he found out about grappling, locking and submission martial arts to which he now roots himself in training in those styles to counter them, showcasing that he learns from his own mistakes. He cares about those he is close to, and is shown to be much more talkative to them, though he can also be very stern still. He isn't one to sugar coat things and knows his strengths and weaknesses. There are also times when he'll act arrogantly, though only towards those who he thinks are "full of themselves".Powers:Power Punch - Kuro has incredible punching power, so much that he can hurt larger characters than himself with ease.Fast Punch - Kuro can unleash multi-attack punches with high-speed that are seemingly faster than the eye.Translocation - Kuro can move at high speed around the battlefield.Fighting Style:Kuro is a pressure-based boxer who relies on agile footwork to move in and out of his opponents range while applying fast and powerful punches to his enemies. His fighting style is highly orthodox, thus many of his moves apply basic, suped-up, combinations from boxing such as his powerful one-two straight, jabs, and such. He is all about throwing combinations, and striking with powerful punches.Music:Power of Sound - Ace

☫Elain☫Limitless Ancient🐉

09/11/2020 07:07 PM 

Day Two

Sife-SipherMerlin-HellgatesBlue Knight-Elain

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