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9 yrs ago
Current Going to a festival fellas! So for the coming week I won't be able to post.
9 yrs ago
When you marathon Rick & Morty S2 and expected laughs but the ending just slaps you in the face...
9 yrs ago
School's in full "consume all his time"-mode so no posts for just a lil longer. Sorry folks! I promise I'll make up for it in the weekend!
10 yrs ago
Going to take a small break on most of my RPs for maybe a week or so.
10 yrs ago
Not near an actual keyboard until 21/06

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Keregar
Warlord of Kereg-Kor
Interacting with: His own sons and followers.


The journey from Kereg-Kor to the Capital of Drakka was a long and dangerous one. The land of Drakka was meant for many beings. The hostile fauna and flora waited for any chance to tear something up. Even a Drakkan. Sometimes, they didn’t even wait and just charged headlong into a caravan. This had happened to Keregar, but unfortunately for the beast, he ran straight towards Drakka’s fiercest hunters. Soon it was chained to the ground, with a smiling Keregar over him. It whimpered and hissed, but the warlord looming over it did not show fear. Instead of the sweet release in Krenta’s arms, Keregar decided that it was big enough and put in the large, iron cage on the caravan. A gift he called it all along the way. Though none of his three sons, his three youngest, accompanying him knew for who. When the group approached the great gates, the beast began to trash and growl. Agitated by the various smells, many loud voices, and the large looming shadow. It had trashed before, but now it had a certain desperation to it. Keregar stopped right before the gates, prompting everyone else to stop as well. Slowly he turned his gaze back to the cage. He could feel the beasts rage and he would not have it.

He turned around, completely disregarding the Drakkan guard at the gates, as he marched up towards the beast. He took one of his son’s large warhammer. A massive clump of unadorned metal that only a Drakkan of respectable size could swing. But as Keregar approached the cage, he lifted it over his head with no problem. The animal inside kept hissing and growling. Now directed at Keregar, challenging his captor. A mistake. Violently Keregar slammed the hammer against the iron, again and again. The metal clangor echoed through the air as Keregar let out a bestial roar, louder than the animal could ever produce. Its defiance was broken as it crawled to the back of the cage. Becoming a heap of frightened, whimpering fur. With his rage released, Keregar returned the hammer to his son. Leaving the battered, bent but not broken cage behind him.

“Lord Keregar of Kereg-Kor.” He simply stated to a wide-eyed gate guard. Who, when he recovered, ushered the others to let the whole caravan through. Once inside on the gate’s plaza, Keregar observed the streets, the houses and the palace in the distance. The city stank of excrement coming out of all three holes. He always hated the Capital. All the roads before him were packed with Drakkan and other beings. Some selling their trinkets in the shadow of ever larger houses, hiding from the hard sun overhead. The only reason he would ever come to such a cesspool of degeneracy was for a bride. Too many younger Drakkan roamed the streets, some with Gem’s in tow. It disgusted him. The people here had grown complacent. They lived between walls and fought each other. As if there was any glory in the weak fighting the weaker. None of the horned ones here would survive the wilderness Kereg-Kor edged.

He turned away from the disgusting image and faced his sons. “You know where my estate is. Near the palace. Go there and unpack the wagons. For you, this is the first time you will roam these filthy streets and see our future if we are not careful. Make sure that this place does not swallow you.” He stated with a grim voice. His sons dutifully bowed and went on their way. Leading most the caravans through the streets. Having inherited their height from their father, they yelled and pushed everyone who would not move aside. As they drilled through the busy streets, Keregar could not help but smile. With a bit of luck, a fool would drop under the carts and break his legs.

But he still had one more matter to attend to. He turned to his friends. They were older than his sons and servants. Each and every one of them earned their tattoos and trophies. They were in charge of the battered cage with the frightened animal. That was currently adding to the already horrible smell of the city. “Bring that beast to the palace. Tell them that it is a gift of Kereg-Kor to Prince Gaelnesh.” With a curd nod, they too went on their wave. A whip cracked over the heads of the pedestrians. Ushering them to make room.

The Warlord now stood alone at the entrance of a foul hell. How could a place that was not a battlefield smell so rotten? Alas, he did not care. The journey had been long and hard. So now he required a stiff, very stiff drink. With his blades on his back, he began to push himself through the streets as well. Completely disregarding the man stands for jewels and dresses.

Kyrena
Bride of Unknown and Sister-Bride of Unknown
Interacting with: Nobody Yet


Kyrena sad frightfully in the wagon that carried her up the mountains. This place was nothing like Mount Serenity, her home. She was so cold that she huddled up in her cloak with Elly, her Sne. The little creature looked just as afraid as her. For most the journey she remained silent. The Gem didn’t dare to utter a word to any of her Drakkan captors the whole way on.

Now in the mountains, the very air felt wrong. Back home the wind was soothing and nice. One could dance in it, with it! But here the wind wanted to cut and hurt you. It was vicious and hostile. Maybe that was why the Drakkan all acted like they did? She kept those thoughts to herself though. There was little use in talking to anyone here. Soon they would be separated again. Then again, these were the last few Gems she’d probably see in a long time. Maybe forever.

Eventually, they reached Shadow Worth. One by one they were led off the carriages. Then a Drakkan addressed them. Calling them weak, and themselves kind. Then followed by their duties. Kyrena swallowed hard. The very idea that she would bare such a monster felt painful. Instinctively she reached for her stomach with her hand as finally, tears began to well up. A shiver traveled up her spine. She tried to bite down on her teeth and fight the tears. Still, one escaped. With it, Kyrena felt herself collapse. She didn’t let another tear go. Yet inside she felt hollow. Like everything she once was, was just ripped out of her and replaced with a bottomless void of fear. Eventually, they were led to their chambers. The room was rather bare and small. With only a bed, a basin of water, a fireplace, and a simple rug. Still, she jumped on her bed and cried her eyes dry on the pillow. It all came in waves. The pain, the fear, the regret. Why was she so stupid as to volunteer!? But as she rubbed away the red lines on her cheeks, she realized why. She could not bear another of her friends to vanish. Her Sne had crawled to a far corner of her room, trying to some rest. It appeared to know very well tomorrow would still be a tough day. But Kyrena couldn’t sleep. She laid there, for what felt like hours. Though eventually she just opened the window and let the night’s wind in. The bars would make sure she couldn’t escape one way or another. But Kyrena did not plan on escaping. At least not in a way the Drakkan would understand.

Instead of crying or sleeping, she began to move. First to feel the wind blow into her room. It was still stingy and hurtful. But Kyrena, slowly, carefully, let her own essence flow in it. She moved with the wind. Making small circles in her room, stepping one way then another. Going with the flow until she fully caught it. Then she changed it. Making turns left instead of right. Soon she and the wind moved in harmony and she began to dance. Moving gracefully through the room. Going in circles and spins. Letting her white dress flutter in the wind. The wind was now billowing snowflakes in as well. They shone a beautiful, silver-white in the pale light of the moon. Yet when the yellow flames of the fireplace touched them, they turned into golden glitter. Kyrena let the wind and snow blow all around her, guiding her through the room. Every breeze told her where to go. The small room was made to confine her. But instead, it freed her. There was no more up, no more down as she twisted through her room. She pushed herself off the wall and jumped through the glittering air. Embracing the split second of weightlessness before gravity pulled her back down. Every movement was made in harmony with the previous one. Yet it was all as unpredictable as the wind itself. There was no more down, no up, left or right as she jumped and spun through the free air. This was her escape. This was how she would flee. At least for now. Gusts of air made her go a little higher, spin a little faster. A delicate touch here, a soft breeze there. All culminating in a beautifully enchanting dance. But things were different now.

Even though she was in harmony with the air, her mind influenced that balance. It directed her moves towards a crescendo. She jumped higher and dropped lower. Reaching for something she would never have again, only to drop into her captivity again and again. Until the air, unexpectedly, blew in discord with her movement. She lost her balance in a jump and fell. She tumbled for what felt like minutes, though it was over in a second. She was once again chained to the rough floor below her. Slowly she sat up, feeling the pain her now exhausted body suffered. In a rush the winds and glistering particles escaped her room, shutting the window behind them. There she was, almost entirely alone again. In the corner, her little Sne pet was still sleeping. Too exhausted by the long journey behind her. “Good night, Elly.” Kyrena said at last before she herself crawled into bed. The Air Gem felt more hurt by the betrayal of her dance than the fall she suffered.

The next day she didn’t even feel like she had fallen. But the emptiness remained. After the Drakkan demanded her out of bed, she crawled to the basin with water and tried to freshen up. At least if it made her skin feel clean. It was a small blessing. After that, she realized she still wore her white dress from yesterday. Well, it would have to do for now. She wasn’t really in the presence. She didn’t feel awake. Everything felt more like it was all a dream. The hallway she wandered wasn't real. The large room had to be fake. The apple she grabbed had to come from her imagination. Even the heat she felt from one of the fireplaces had to be part of a memory. But as she sat down, she realized it was all real. Just a different kind of real. A greyer one.
Across the world, when the moon rises people go inside. They go to sleep or wait out the night to see the day. A few stalwart defenders of the light may wander the roads. Armed with torches to push away the dark. But eventually, the pale moon wins, the long shadows rule and everything is calm and peaceful. Not so in the Sanguine Alliance. Where the vampires of the cities were rising up from their slumber. On the countryside, most people closed their windows and locked their door. Many prayed to the Widows or Justinian to deliver them from their existence.

As Lord Garkeron rushed his steed through a small, countryside village he found such beliefs baffling and arrogant. No light would save them. No widow would free them. The night, the land, their blood, it was all the vampires. They were mere blood bags, cattle that should be happy to even be alive. He guessed it was just natural for something as short living as a human to pray for a simple higher power to save them. Alas, he would continue to let his mind wander if he did not arrive at his destination.

The estate of Lord Ersten was a massive, black, walled place. It was once a large farm though the Lord saw it fit to renovate and uplift the place. Now it was one of few estates to grace the western bank of the Black Water. Garkeron dismounted his steed after he galloped onto the main square, where a handful of servants took the fierce steed to the stables. Garkeron noticed that all of them were human, not fledglings. Then the large, main, heavy oaken door burst open. Revealing the Lord of the estate. Lord Ersten was a comely man. Untouched by diseases even in his mortal life. Now his white, long hair stood as a testament of his age. It wouldn’t take long now. A century at the most, before he was asked to become an Ascendant. “Lord Garkeron! My ward! What a pleasure it is to welcome you home!” the white-haired vampire greeted, as he waved his free hand. In the other, he held a rather large goblet. “A pleasure as always.” Garkeron shook his guardian’s hand as he greeted him. Both then went inside. Where several other vampires were gathered.

“What would you have. I got a wonderful vintage. A Castello Vigiroso. Year 8596. Absolutely wonderful. Are you familiar with Castello’s stories?” Ersten asked excitingly. Several Lords and Ladies rolled their eyes. Most probably heard the story several times already. Though not Garkeron. “No, I’m afraid I have not.” He said as he let Ersten pour a new goblet and hand it to him. He took a quick sip. The vintage’s taste exploded in his mouth. A fire was unleashed from the crimson liquid as he traveled the vampire’s throat. “A fierce vintage, I must say. This must have been difficult to acquire naturally from any human.”

“It was, it was!” Ersten said as he poured a glass for himself. “Castello Vigiroso prided itself in making very fiery humans. Lord Vigir produced a very interesting taste by letting his humans fight. Sometimes to the death just to keep that edge in.” Unlike most, Garkeron was listening attentively. “Obviously arming the cattle is a rather risky thing to do. One thing led to another and in the year 8595 a human revolted. Him and a few more fled into the nearby woods. Lord Vigir needed a year and all his people to find the band, as they torched the vineyards and freed more and more people. When they caught them, Lord Vigir ordered them to be drained immediately to maintain that precious taste.” Ersten held up the bottle to look at the emblem, letting out a content sigh. “Such a perfect taste. You can taste the viciousness. The human’s name is forgotten, obviously. Martyrdom makes for poor vines. But that human’s blood is something to remember forever.” The old Lord mused, before putting the bottle away and sat on the last chair of the circle. “But enough musing about wine and martyrs. Ladies and gentlemen. The fledglings are growing a bit weary of playing servant all the time. Many voices have risen, all saying the same thing. They want a raid.”

A Lady rose from her seat. “The Fledglings can say what they want. They have no voice, no age. We should not bend at their will!” she sneered. A few nodded in agreement. Ersten extended his hand towards her and lowered it. The lady, respectfully, sat down again. “I quite agree. Fledglings should not get a habit of demanding things of their elders.” He continued. “However, I do agree that the last few decades have been rather… dull.” Several others nodded in agreement now. “A raid would cull the weaker younglings. Allowing stronger vampires to rise up. Who here did not participate in a Rotwatch raid?” A few did raise their hands. Garkeron too. “Ah, a pity. Well, I do propose we hold one. For various reasons. To show that the Sanguine Alliance is still very much alive. To steal away those lush and plump Justinians and to weed out the weakest amongst us.”

“Aye, I agree.” One lord vocally offered his support. “Me too.” Another joined in. “I will join too.” A lady said. More and more joined in. First the youngest, who have not yet participated in a Rotwatch raid. Then the older ones too. First Ersten smiled, but his smile collapsed for only a second when he saw more support.

After the meeting Garkonen, who had also offered to join, approached the Lord in his garden, looking west towards the sinking moon. “A lot of Lords and Ladies are joining. It is unexpected.” He opened, as he took a seat next to his Guardian. Ersten nodded, though said nothing. “Too many?” Garkonen offered. Ersten remained silent for a moment. “There is a painful truth I have realized over the years.” He eventually said. “Justinian grew large and powerful on the other side of the mountains. Oh, there were such lush lands. Green fields and huge woods and herbs that would make the blood so sweet. Have you ever drunk the blood of a Hersian noblewoman, Garkonen? Oh, such elegant taste. It waltzes in your mouth.” The old vampire mused nostalgically as he moved his goblet through the air. As if he was dancing with it. “Now the supposed God of light holds that land. We are not so strong as we would like to believe, my little ward.”

“You fear we would not win at Rotwatch?” Garkonen asked rather surprised. If history was to repeat itself, and it always did, then they would win at Rotwatch. After the victory, they would triple the garrison for a few years. Then slowly it would bleed from greedy generals and the inevitability of shifting wars.

“Oh no. I fear Justinian’s inescapable wrath.”




Heavy WIP. Probably going to re-do the True Vampire caste (the Vampire Lord class stays though). I also have to establish at least two or three bloodlines still. And a bunch of stuff I feel should be added.




Location: Boys Locker room
Derek & Jacob


His body was killing him. Lactic acid was spilling into his legs, a clear signal from his body. It caused such a pain that it would stop most dead in their tracks. Or worse, they would collapse. But Jacob was no stranger to it. Yet still, he was in a world of pain. And despite that, he was laughing at some half-baked joke one of the defenders said as they walked towards the locker room. Jacob was the defensive leader, so he had to keep the group together. He succeeded in that challenge, but he did it through might and force. Making himself the kingpin keeping it all together. Looking over some of the guys in his team, it was obvious as of why. They were animals. He knew that if he showed weakness the people around him, his friends, would get testy.

So Jacob laughed as his body was tearing itself apart. As they entered the locker room, on the other side of the room was the Board. On it was a table. The top row was filled with the names of every player on the football team. Damian’s name still stood out like a sore thumb. A reminder he could return. Right now Jacob wanted to do nothing more than erase the name. It would call in a new era. But it would also offend a lot of people. On the first column, girls’ names were written. The Candies’ names were written with special dedication. While other names spat viciousness. One example would be the crossed out name Jenny, written below it: Skater skank with an empty row right of her. On each row, there was a tally written. It was clear what it meant. Everyone knew it. But nobody told the coach the actual meaning. And thus, they couldn’t remove it.

Derek, proud like a peacock marched up to the board. As people saw him pass his locker, they realized what was happening. A few were chanting: “New name! New name! New name!” It was the season no less. With new cheerleaders coming in, the hunt was on. Derek, with a certain amount of showmanship took out the pen and threw it in the air. Keeping the entire locker room in anticipation. The chanting and cheering silenced as all eyes were on the cornerbacker as he took off the cap. Without looking, he pushed it down and added a tally to his column and on Brynn’s name. A quick holler filled the room, many congratulating the cornerbacker. Derek put the felt pen back and walked up to his locker. The one next to Jacob. Jacob was just flipping through some stuff on his phone, pretending to be busy as he held a faint smile. He could help but be somewhat impressed by his cornerbacker.

“Eighteen. Damn man, does it never get old with her?” Jacob asked. Derek just turned around to face him. “You have no idea. I told you the day you came in here. The girl is a freak! I’m holding it off, even. I want to pop that great 25th cherry on Valentine’s.” Jacob just chuckled: “You’re such a romantic.” “If anyone’s the romantic it’s you.” Derek rebounded. A little confused and a lot more annoyed, Jacob looked up: “You want to explain that one?” Derek didn’t look too fussed about it: “You’re lagging behind man. Too much of a nice guy, eh?” The jock said as he pointed at the board, specifically Jacob’s empty column. “Well maybe I just don’t care.” Jacob tried to act like he didn’t care as he returned his attention to his phone. Derek laughed and turned to face his locker, trying to open the lock. “Yeah sure. Or maybe you just can’t get a girl to su-“ Derek never got to finish that sentence as Jacob shot up and pushed him. Derek flew back against the lockers. The low, hollow metal clang echoing through the locker room, silencing every conversation. Recovering in an instance, Derek turned around to face Jacob. Neither of them looked all too happy. Jacob knew what this was. And it was Derek who relented, holding his hands up. “I’m just kidding man, I’m just kidding.” But Jacob didn’t look like he was kidding. Yet inside, he was relieved that Derek didn’t push it. He wasn’t in shape enough to throw down. He wasn’t in shape for anything. Every muscle was pulling itself together. Like a winch aiming to break his bones. And he couldn’t even show it. It was all kept behind a façade.

– 15 minutes later –

Jacob was sitting alone in the locker room. Everyone had left already. Yet Jacob remained, his face soured by the constant pain. He could pretend for only so long. The last hour was pure torture, which he chose to hide. It was nothing short of a nightmare. Worse, one he did to himself. He knew the price for using the pill. Now every movement, no matter how small hurt. Standing itself was exhausting him. He knew he was skating on the edge of literally, physically collapsing. He wanted nothing more than to lay down on something and sleep. Yet, realistically, only thing he could do now was crawl under a showerhead and hope for the best.

The water didn’t make the pain vanish. It only relaxed his muscles enough so he could walk again. At least for a little while. The hot water poured off his back as he rested his head against the wall before him. He had ignored it for too long. He had denied it for too long. The same gnawing feeling. Guilt demanded to be heard. The heart wrenching feeling took him all the way down the rabbit hole. To when he was young. To when he fought and bullied. All the feelings of remorse he had for Sophie. She had deserved better, yet he was a coward that couldn’t answer a question. His mind took him to more recent acts as well. Insulting the journalist, Savannah, was at the very least rude. But wanting to take down Trevor the way he did, that was just wrong.

In frustration he slammed his first into the tiles. Nothing broke, nothing shattered. A different, blunt, pain joined the torn muscles. Why did he do it? Why did he feel happy when he heard Damian was off the team? Why did he buy the pills? Why did he insult the redhead and taunt the ginger? Why? He knew why. Captain, and everything beyond it. A good college, a rich job and a full life. Driving a lambo next to a Spanish coast with not a care in the world. Having a Malibu home and a private jet to take him to the Swiss alps. He couldn’t even ski.

Yet deep within he kept asking: For what? The question shoved a knife in him. For who? Twisting it around. Why? Turning it the other way. Deep down he knew that no money, gold or private jets would ever be enough. He could jump out of a plane, dive in the ocean and it wouldn’t matter. None of it would matter in the end. The self-torture was breaking him. Fissures formed along his life’s plan. Threatening to break it all apart. He casted one glance out of the showers, towards his clothes.

The little plastic bag caught his attention. Filled with two more white pills. No, he had no choice. A normal life was not for him. He could never attain it. He would win the season now. He would do what had to be done. He would always do what had to be done. If that meant living with the guilt, then so be it. What else was there?



I'm afraid I'll be tapping out of this RP. I'm afraid I'm just not enjoying myself anymore. But that is due to no fault of anyone here! I love this crew and I would love to join you all in another RP maybe! But right now, I feel and fear that Silver Legion is no longer good for me. I hope you can all understand and I wish you the best of time here!





Disclaimer: I have yet to describe where Keregar's fortress is and how the lands surrounding it look like. I'll do that in a few hours when I get home! I also have to ask to put Mount Serenity somewhere.
@Emma They don't have to be 18. Though I'm guessing that's the minimum. I'd say the age range of being desirable is something of 18 - 27? Just as long as you're young and beautiful really. But I'm no GM or co-GM.
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