MaeB

~ UnRest in Peace - A Story of Strife After Death ~ [ Fantasy / Romance ]

Grief’s a funny thing… It feels like a story someone tells you, instructional and utterly fictional, until it creeps up on you. Taps you on the shoulder. Calls your name.
Grief is the chloroform on the hankie. It’s the arm that grabs you. It’s like a vacuum simply sucks all the air out of the room and someone tells you to “Keep breathing.”

Saying goodbye is the most convoluted aspect of grief. It’s the knife in your heart but the antidote to your anguish. But what if you did all that? What if you survived it? What if you said your goodbyes? Funeral done. Grave dug. Will examined. Casseroles eaten. “Sorry to hear it”s on repeat until you finally believe yourself when you reply “Thank you, it’s okay.”

What if you’ve gone through all of that and suddenly… They come back?

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UNREST IN PEACE - The Starter<br>

Muse 1 lost Muse 2 on Valentine’s day. The irony is crippling, I know. Freak accident. M2 had a bicycle basket full of roses and breakfast pastries ready to deliver to M2. They were like that, M2. Thoughtful. Romantic. They were cycling through grey, rainy London to M1’s flat, smiling smugly to themselves as they pictured M1’s face lighting up. But they never got to see that. A driver, still drunk from the night before, sped through a red light and knocked M2 through the air like a bowling pin. It was all over the news. Every local news station, every local newspaper.
“Beautiful, young M2 dies at the hands of drunk driver”
Apparently, the onlookers were bending down picking up the scattered rose petals after the ambulance pronounced them dead at the scene. Someone even said the croissants were still warm.

M1 is, obviously, heartbroken. They can’t believe M2 is gone. Forever.
Until, they’re not.
There’s a knock at the door late one night. It’s approaching Christmas and M1 is dreading it. Christmas without the love of their life feels particularly UNchristmassy. Where’s their kitsch Christmas decorations? (No, seriously. Who got them in the will?) Who will play Christmas songs on repeat until death threats are distributed? Who’s going to beg to put on Love Actually for the 14th time?
As if their spirit couldn’t cope with the idea of M1 spending Christmas with anyone but them, they knocked on the flat door. London looked particularly grey and miserable that evening, the street Christmas lights doing little to brighten the mood. But that knock? It was theirs. They always did one particular rhythm. It was an in-joke of theirs. A secret code. And there it was again, after nearly a year.

M1 looks up from drunken gift wrapping with tears in their eyes. Was it a delivery driver? A neighbour? They weren’t to know that exact knock was M2s. Only theirs. But when the front door swings open to reveal a face all-too-familiar and entirely impossible, M1 realises that there really no such thing as resting in peace.

Do we have to say goodbye again?
How long have they returned to Earth for?
What are their intentions?
Will they ever “pass over?”

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Hi, lovely reader. If you’re still here after clicking that hider up there, thanks for reading! I know IC’s can sit getting dusty for quite some time (sometimes forever) but I’d love to actually get something off the ground with this plot! If you’re a lover of supernatural love stories, slice of life vibes with a bit of grit and a lot of “tongue-in-cheek” then this could be for you!
I enjoy having an RP alongside some serious ones that is easy-writing. Fun. An opportunity to be silly, to be cute.

I do have some preferences with who I RP with, though. (I know. How demanding.)

• Be passionate about writing! - Plots like this are only successful if you’re into snappy dialogue, descriptions and a wee bit of fluff! Otherwise it’ll get terribly boring and risks being a bit monotonous.
• Balance - Let’s have fun with a plot that isn’t hugely serious… But let’s respect the storyline.
• Character Development - I really love on my characters. I love to explore them. Let’s create characters with depth and dimension?
• Posts - Is it needy to request lengthy posts? A good couple of paragraphs at an absolute minimum. No pressure for daily posts (although that’d be lovely) but when you do post, I’d love to see a meaty one. I’ll match that, don’t worry!

Anyway - Let me know if this interests you at all! We can change things up. Adapt. Bandy ideas about.

Help me bring this idea to life instead of it getting mouldy in the IC ;)

Bloodbound & Broken

Renaissance’s senses were exploding with stimulus. Her nose inhaled the scent of her enemies in quick, short breaths. Her vision had sharpened, like the twist of a focal camera lens. Her movements were always swift, agile yet elegant. The ancient vampire truly engaged in battle as if it were a well choreographed dance. Like lovers salsa dancing on a dark night.

Except this wasn’t a dark night. It was broad daylight. And Ren didn’t have her toned arms snaked around the hips of a lover. Instead, she’d cut open the flesh of Delwyn the Hunter and watched as his scarlet blood spewed from his ruptured skin. What followed were some determined strikes fuelled by his enchanted rage. They lacked the precision they undoubtedly normally had thanks to the fury that bubbled in his stomach. That face a perfect picture of rage, contorted into pinches of something bloodier than disdain. Renaissance ducked and dived, her shoulders rolling, her back arching, cutting through the air in speedy dodges. The threat of that hungry blade narrowly avoided the Vampire’s skin, bouldering through the air around her in repeated near-misses. Ren could hear Delwyn’s grunts of effort, little puddles of bubbling spittle forming at the corners of his downturned mouth.

As Delwyn the Hunter struggled to recover from his combination attack, his wounded left side weighing on him greatly, Renaissance’s hand snapped out to grip his forearm. Her fingers closed around just above his wrist, locking into a bear trap of a grip. Twisting her arm in a sharp, flicking motion the Vampire forced Delwyn’s hand to loosen on his weapon. Whilst stunned and before he had the chance to swing for her again, Ren levered herself around to Delwyn’s back. If human and animal were two colours on a canvas, Renaissance was blending the two as she leapt onto Delwyn’s back. She wrapped her legs around his waist, locking her ankles to squeeze in a suffocating hold. Mounted upon him, the Ancient glared down at the arteries in his neck, pumping furiously. One arm twisting around his jugular like a python, Ren pulled back. The sweet spot between her bicep and forearm was snugly pressed against Delwyn’s adam’s apple and the pressure she enforced upon him would be enough to hear cracking bones soon. Ren wasn’t ignorant enough to assume that her advantage from upon his back was sustainable. She had little time to finish this attack before he gathered himself and readied for his counterattack. The Ancient let out a shrill shriek as she plunged her fangs into the Hunter’s neck, revelling in the sensation of flesh crumbling beneath her elongated cuspids. Legs locked around Delwyn’s torso, one arm still squeezing his neck like a murderous scarf, Ren felt the warm spurt of blood filling her mouth. It bubbled from the puncture wounds, the nightmarish creature angling her face so the fangs widened the incisions. The warm elixir that the Vampire craved so wholly slid down her throat, coating her teeth, enveloping her tongue. It was metallic, the tannins full and adrenaline polluting the ordinarily sweet tipple.

As Lyselle engaged further in battle with Felicity, the only thing to pry her from Delwyn’s delicious neck was the bond vibrating with a call for attention. Ren dropped from the Hunter’s back, not checking to see if he’d been properly incapacitated. The curse took hours to take hold, she had time to circle back and ensure he was dealt with before the blood began to turn. For now, she directed her attention to Lyselle. Her majestic, capable Huntress was fighting off the jealousy-fuelled Vigil member. There was an efficiency to Lyselle’s movements that demonstrated her capability as a recruit. Her shortsword had found its way embedded into Felicity’s shoulder, that much was clear. Though the vampire had been busy mounting Delwyn like a wrestling partner, she could see Felicity weakened dramatically by her Huntresses handicapping blow.

But Renaissance had listened to the bond’s call too late. Distracted by the newly awoken Thomas, spell broken and ready to join the flight, Felicity’s weapon buried itself in Lyselle’s forearm. It had all happened too quickly for Ren to intervene and guilt pricked the bond as she had the sinking feeling that Lys was wounded. Seeng her bonded lover’s face pinch in pain made the Ancient’s body erupt into unfathomable rage. Like lighting a fire beneath her, Ren sprung forth. Crossing the distance between Delwyn’s discarded form quickly, she rumbled a thunderous growl and a shrill scream ripped from her snarling lips. Ren’s bat-like wings snapped open from her spine, spanning in impressive width and causing her to seem a lot larger. Just as a wildcat would brush up their tail, heckles flaring, spine arching and curling, Ren’s wings trembled with suppressed, primal anger. She saw Lys’ forearm wound seep blood and the bond crackled with concern. This battle would not be easily won. She had to accept that wounds would be made, on both sides, and that was part of the balancing act of a war. For both of them to emerge unscathed was an impossible, naive pipe dream yet seeing her precious human Huntress injured was as if she’d suffered a fatal blow herself. Regardless, Ren didn’t have time to embrace the heartbreak. She had to protect Lys.

Just as the Ancient was about to engage in more combat, a whistling caused her to nap her head to face Holt. She’d made the mistake of turning her back to the experienced Vigil member. Too distracted, too torn, too concerned. Ren hissed as she realised she’d created an opportunity for Holt to plant an attack. A jian, blessed silver hissing as it soared through the air, heading straight for her. If not for the vampires wings springing forth from her spine, the flying weapon would have been easier to avoid. But the vampire couldn’t quite move quick enough and she watched as the spiked jian arced like a javelin and punctured the thing skin of her right-hand batwing.

The sound of the blessed blade tearing through her wing triggered a deep roar of anguish from the vampire. Renaissance felt her knees buckle, threatening to give out. Her kneecaps trembled from the weight of keeping her upright, the smell of singed flesh filling the air. The simmering, white hot pain that imploded from the penetration of the jian was momentarily blinding and Ren strained to refocus. Vision blurred, she squinted under the efforts to recalibrate. She had to recover quickly, to preempt a follow-up strike. Holt wouldn’t relent, no doubt lining up her next attack and this time Ren would not allow the blow to land.

Defensively, her batwings folded back into place, disappearing within her back. She focused her gaze on Holt, repressing the acknowledgment of pain pulsing from her wounded wing. The bond had illuminated with the shock of her injury and Ren felt torn between return attacking Holt or joining the fight against Felicity and Thomas.

Deciding with the click of her fingers, the Ancient dove amongst the clash of the two Vigil recruits VS Lyselle. The safety of her bonded human far outweighed the need for revenge with Holt. That would come later.

For now, she hissed as she approached the pair, choosing Thomas as her next victim. The talon sliced through the air like a conductor leading an orchestra, each swipe aiming for Thomas’ back, shoulders and neck. The sharp whistle as the talon danced through the air punctuated the attacks laced with pain. Ren gritted her teeth through the burn that coursed through her spine, reminding her of what could happen if she allowed her mind to become distracted again. The battle continued and Renaissance Le Sang kept her senses on red alert, listening for Holt’s next attempt on her undead life.

Bloodbound & Broken

Delwyn and Felicity were closing in on the pair of them. Now firmly back at Lyselle’s side, Renaissance lowered her body once again, arms spread and talon brandished. Her left hand flitted down to her side and gripped her encrusted dagger still stained with werewolf blood. Unsheathing her weapon, Ren was prepared to strike quickly. Whatever rune that Huntress Master was carving into the boys skin was surely finished soon? And Lyselle’s knife whistling through the air did little to deter her.

Letting out a warning, serpentine hiss, the Vampire watched Delwyn expose his vulnerable side and she struck once. Twice. The dagger swept through the air, slicing up across Delwyns exposed rib area. The Ancient Vampire quickly followed the strike with another devastating downward slash. The dagger did its job, carving into Delwyn’s flesh with satisfying ease. Moving agile as a deer, Ren moved behind both Felicity and Delwyn, whipping around them like a whirlwind. Now behind them, she shoved Felicity toward Lyselle, engaging them into combat far sooner than Felicity had bargained for, no doubt. The aim was to hit her with the element of surprise. To put her in an unexpected position, prime striking distance for her bonded human. Lyselle was ready. She always was. And Ren knew she’d seize the opportunity to strike whilst Felicity was bewildered, even if only for a second.

Not satisfied that Delwyn had suffered enough, Ren clamped a flexed hand on the Hunter’s shoulder and spun him round to face her. Her face a portrait of horror, she glared at him with those midnight black eyes and saw the Hunter’s fury seeping from his pores.

“Come now, Hunter!” Renaissance taunted, her voice shrill and subhuman. She awaited his next move, which would be predictably enraged and avoidable. Whilst she handled Delwyn, she expected her beloved Huntress would deal with Felicity. Then, once they’d successfully defeated these two, Ren hoped they’d be able to tackle the far more difficult task at hand: Holt.

Bloodbound & Broken

“I’m not dominated, and I’m not playing,” Lyselle was firm in her response.
Renaissance Le Sang, blending between her human and Vampire form, let out a raucous, animalistic snarl. Her knees dropped, back arched like a street-cat, her eyes bottomless pits. The fangs she splayed, advertising their razor-sharp tips, begged for flesh. The hair on the Vampire’s arms stood rigidly upward, eyes intently focusing on each of her opponents one by one.

With each smouldering, withering look, Ren assessed her newly-presented enemies. Ever the strategist, ever the logistical analyst, the Ancient Vampire raked her contemptuous gaze over every inch of the Hunters before her. She watched for tells, signs of weakness. Locking in her focus, the Ancient Vampire felt her vampiric intuition beg to be released. Like a caged animal, her repressed power trembled with glee at the prospect of being unleashed. It had been so long since the Aged Creature had been challenged so outright. With so much power laying dormant inside her, Ren had to lock away the beastly rage that rumbled beneath her cold, dead flesh. But like any caged animal, this power ached for release. And so, stood opposite these Humans, Ren opened that trap door just an inch. Her intuition soared with energy, rearing up like an impassioned stallion as she unlatched the stable door holding it prisoner. With calculated care, Ren unleashed her intuition upon the Vigil members. Details began to become apparent:

Delwyn’s left side was weakest, especially his knees. Many years of Hunting, sleeping rough, walking long distances, had worn down the muscle.

Felicity was technically sound at hand-to-hand, but she focused too much on what she’d been taught. She was rigid. She lacked elegance and initiative in her fighting style.

The boy… He was easy enough to pick off. He had to follow orders, and he would do so to the best of his ability, but talent can’t be taught.

But the Master? Seraphine? Her weakness was hidden behind that stonewall she’d created. It would take time to delve behind it…

“Get over here—now.”

Renaissance felt the shriek bubble in the pit of her stomach. It ripped through her, tearing through her vocal cords. The banshee-like scream was so contrasted to the beautiful rosebud mouth it flew out of. Haunting, shrill, blood curdling… There was the tiniest thread of human tone to the cry, but it was mostly vampiric. Hauntingly so. The scream was a protest to Holt’s arrogant commands. Renaissance couldn’t bear to listen to the Human attempt to overpower Lyselle, to corrupt her.

“ENOUGH!” Ren roared. She lifted her muscular arm, extending that threatening talon in a menacing point, angled directly at Holt. “I can’t bare to watch you scramble for control any longer. Enough.” Then, tossing her glossy midnight-black curls behind her slender shoulders, she narrowed her coal-like gaze at Holt with the threat of a well-trained predator. A seductive, villainous smile spread across her face as she cocked her head tauntingly at the Master Huntress.
“I’m already fantasising about forcing you to address me by “harlot” for the last time… Except this time you’ll be choking it out as I tear open that pathetically feeble jugular and drink directly from your Carotid Arteries.” The vampire spoke with quick, artful spite. She meant it. The image flashed into reality before her eyes, bringing another layer of determination to the violence that coursed through her veins.

Then, slowed by his rage, Delwyn made the first attempt to attack. That enchanted, exaggerated anger made his intentions clear and his aim sloppier than usual. Renaissance sprung into action, flipping the internal switch that triggered her vampiric speed. Her blurred form almost swam through the air, gliding from left to right. She kept Lyselle at the centre of her movements, not straying too far from her side. They’d have to partner up to face these foes. A united front.

The bond flickered with apprehension from her beloved Human. Renaissance imagined clasping it with a gentle touch, soothing it with a caress, before setting it free like a baby bird. Her talented Huntress had brandished her throwing knives with the agility of a determined warrior and when Felicity made her strike, Renaissance saw her slither of opportunity. The vampire, still moving with that supernatural agility, dove forward. She landed on the ground with a soft roll, swiping her taloned hand in a horizontal strike. She felt the tip of her claw slash across both Felicity’s shins, right where there was a gap in her armour. The vampire saw the material in the Huntresses trousers rip open with a satisfying tear and blood spattered forth. She hissed in satisfaction, not pausing to bask in the glory of a successful attack for long.

Agile as a bird, swift as a panther, Renaissance slunk away from Felicity and returned to Lyselle’s side. Her eyes constantly scanning the battleground before them, the Ancient awaited the next attack. She remained alert, her breaths turned to growls. Rabid but controlled, Renaissance remained behind her Huntress, a pillar of strength behind her.

“We move together,” Renaissance whispered down the bond, feeling it ablaze with flowing energy. It seemed to respond, catalysed with the adrenaline of the battle. “They’ll try to separate us, pick us off individually. They don’t know how connected we are… The bond is our strength” Her inner voice echoed down the thread that tied the two together and still the vampire’s guttural roars punctuated the air thick with tension.

They’d face the Vigil. Together. Bloodbound but never broken.

ѕαlтed Cαrαмel

Cinamochi! Let me drop in on The Secrets & Tabloids plot!

I’m locked, loaded and ready ^^

Minimum of 1 post per day and I can promise it’ll be well-written, imaginative and a minimum of 2-3 paragraphs. But I’m a wordy bitch too so it’s often heftier than that.

But I don’t believe in getting wordy for no reason. I won’t fluff posts out unless that fluff makes sense for the story and our characters… Anyway!

Let me know how you want to get started.

~ The Quelling of the Alternates ~ // 1 x 1 // Fantasy Adventure

Intro:

Hello, fellow Guildians!

Thank you for your initial interest in “The Quelling”… This is a concept I dreamt up and archived in my notes until I had time to really delve into another RP. If you’re looking for an Original Plot to flex your writing and try out an OC, keep reading.

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About Me:

• Hi there! My name’s May. Recently turned 30, Female and mad about RPing.

• I recently returned to RPG after a pretty long hiatus. I’ve missed the excitement of waking up to a post from my fellow RPer across the world… There’s nothing like collaboratively creating something pretty magic here at the Guild.

• I’d like to think I’m a Casual-Advanced RPer - My posts are mostly lengthy, vocabulary developed and I try to keep things consistently inspiring (So long as the flow between us is right)

• I’m a Fantasy RPer, open to Romance so long as it makes sense for the plot. I don’t have the attention span to write a novel, but in RPing I’ve found a space to bask in my creative writing and I’d love a partner to embark on this with!

• I do have a demanding job IRL but I can commit to one post minimum per day. They’ll be lengthy, well contented paragraphs.

• Let’s back and forth in PMs for new ideas. We can discuss any boundaries or non-negotiables there. Some of my favourite friendships have been sparked from the Guild!

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A Summary of the Idea:

A world divided into 3; The Dezert, The Mountaines and The Hylls. Each Continent populated by The People - A human-adjacent species all ransacked by the Return of The Alternates.

The Gods the People worship banished The Alternates underground after centuries of their ruling. The Alternates are heinous creatures ranging from Wyvern-like breeds to Shadow-like demons. Alternates are nightmare-inspired creatures with one thing in common: Bloodlust. The People have lived peacefully knowing their deities banished the Alternates underground many years ago. Until, that changed.

Now, each Continent has repopulated and rebuilt by going subterranean. Ironically, they re-inhabited the underground world the Alternates escaped from. They’ve grown stronger and vengeful over time, developing supernatural powers repurposed to fight back.

We’d play as Characters from one of the Continents tasked with freeing the World from The Alternates once and for all.

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The Prologue

No one’s entirely sure exactly when The Continents were overrun. All anyone knew was that one minute the days were harmonious, laden with peace, stuffed full of serenity and the next, nature decided she had other plans. At first, The People of The Continents hoped for retribution.
As all victims of disaster do, The People collectively barraged through the stages of grief. Initially, they simply could not fathom why their peaceful homes of centuries were crumbling from the foundations. Disaster embraced The People like a fickle long lost lover, leaving them naked and alone, fury clenched in their fists. Much like the stages of grief depict, it was pure unadulterated anger that riddled the communities first. Bargaining with The Gods only came once the initial shock of betrayal had passed through them like a winter chill.
Then came the long-lingering stage of The Depression; a needle and thread piercing each and every one one of them, sewing them together to create a blanket thick enough to submerge every soul into a darkness with no apparent end.

That brings us to The Acceptance. Once The Continents had battled The Alternates for what felt like an eon, begging the Gods for forgiveness, hoping the appearance of their unimaginable horrors would go as quickly as they came, The People adjusted to their new reality. Only once they’d endured lifetimes of suffering, blood and brutal deaths that ransacked their very existence and disfigured all of their realities, The People learned that the emergence of The Alternates could not be undone. The Crack in the Dezert was not going to be sealed. No matter how many nights were spent on their knees, bloodied hands clasped, mouths downturned into pleas of mercy.
Still stranded in the sea of grief, every suffering soul that swam the stormy seas of the Continents at that time felt completely and utterly robbed of their lives by The Gods. There was no time to analyse why the Dezert crack had appeared, why those murderous creatures had been allowed to escape their underground prison, why their bloodthirsty revenge had been wrought through so many innocent people.

After The Depression, The People pulled on the sweater of Acceptance; woollen and too-tight, it clung to their sweat-slicked skin to suffocate.
“These hellhounds aren’t going anywhere; They won’t die, they don’t sleep, they won’t rest until all of us are taken from this life”
Each community of The Continents collectively took a rugged breath and acknowledged the inevitable: The Continents were changed. Their lands were ransacked, families destroyed, homes eradicated.
The Alternates were here to stay and The Continents, divided once and now united in their pain, could not restore the peace they once knew. Until it all changed once more.

It started with the appearance of subspecies, creatures that Professors had only ever seen ancient scrawlings of. Believed to be myths and horror stories told round campfires, The Alternates were failed creations buried deep underground by The Gods (apparently) before The Continents had even fully formed. The People were aware of a time long before their existence, a world where The Alternates ruled over the land and took all they wanted from Nature. These misshapen, beastly, twisted creatures were so far from what The People recognised. Even their minds eye could never have put together an image of The Alternates for they’d never witnessed a horror comparable. These hellish creations were supposed to have been long-gone, long-dead, long-buried. Breeds of Alternates varying from huge, wyvern-like creatures to coal-sized shadows that could infiltrate through the crevices of homes into the mouths of sleeping victims. The subspecies were the start. Then, the mother breeds were discovered and they became evermore terrifying one discovery after another.

When the Dezert’s ground randomly split forming a cavernous divide between borders, they emerged. A natural disaster with catastrophic consequences. Like prisoners thirsty for escape, The Alternates must’ve felt the crack of sunlight hit their skin, heard the rip of rock splitting, and awoke from their dreamless sleep. Deprived, desperate and, most importantly, ravenous.

Clawing the walls of the newly formed crevice, slithering up from the depths of the planet and spreading their wings for the first time in many lifetimes, The Alternates introduced themselves to the People of The Continents with no bias they’d created amongst their own. Mother, child, elderly; The Alternates fed. Ripping screaming children from their beds, dragging well-built working men from their posts, chewing through defences with a viciousness the most hardened army were unprepared for. The sight of a swarm of darkness escaping from between those 2 dusty walls would haunt nightmares from generation to generation. Like a tsunami, an inescapable wave of salivating, roaring Alternates poured out from the fissure and came across the Dezert communities first. They were hit the hardest. Not many families from the Dezert survived. Then the Mountaines were attacked by the Swarm, their people’s homes built atop rocky formations being knocked from cliffs. Bodies tumbling from the mountain sides, rolling like stray boulders down the shoulders of the cliffs. The people of the neighbouring continent, The Hylls, thought there was some kind of earthquake. Their scouts believed huge rock formations were crumbling and that those bodies sent scattered over ridges were just big bits of sediment.

Once The Depression had ransacked the Continents, like a forest fire of punishing cruelty leaving desolation and destruction in its wake, the People began to understand they couldn’t submit to the ruling of these ancient creatures any longer. Succumbing to The Alternates violence, living (no, surviving) with a permanent fear gripping their hearts, the People across The Dezert, Mountaines and Hylls had hidden and cowered for years. Ironically, they eventually retreated underground after many years of suffering. Why would The Alternates return there after so many years imprisoned beneath the Earth? That’s what gave The People their ingenious idea to retreat sub-terrain and train for the Quelling. The Quelling would release them; a name given to the process of eliminating the millions of Alternates that now populated the Continents above ground.

That, although a hugely abbreviated version of events, is the history of the People and the chaos that the Alternates escape brought.

Times have since changed, dear reader.
Don’t worry, The People beneath ground tired of being victimised by their near extinction.

Now, there are soldiers trained to fight. Not in the way you’re thinking, no. Soldiers who study The Alternates nature, biology, diet, motives and movements. These people are merciless, fearless warriors. Subterranean life had forced people to evolve, physically and mentally. The lack of sunlight, the polluted air, the inhalation of dust and the desperation that filled their every day caused the People to change. Perhaps Nature took pity on them and decided to even the playing field. Too long had The Alternates ruled the Continents mercilessly. But they’d successfully, albeit unwittingly, induced survival of the fittest. The weakest of the People died first, whittling down the race to the strongest few. Those smart and strong enough to survive had retreated below and began reforming some sense of normality in their new underground home. With just the strongest of their species surviving, the People began to notice a shift in their genetics. Their composition at a molecular level deconstructed and restructured built for battle. Built for survival.
Something that usually took centuries had happened within a handful of generations. Nature had blessed the People with their own genetic mutations seemingly designed to fight back.

Now, it wasn’t entirely uncommon for some People to possess a Strength beyond humankind. A Strength that had non-gifted men cowering. This enhanced power was a primally perfect way to fend off the jaws of an Alternate. Not just by holding them agape, but by snapping them clean open.
Only the strongest of People could wield weapons powerful enough to fight off one of the grotesque Alternates that still preyed upon the People. And those gifted with the Strength understood immediately their responsibility.

Then, many children generations ago had been born with hypersensitive eyesight; perception that penetrated walls, skins and skulls. Named “Perception”, this skill was seen as a spiritually superior gift. The ability to see what what was hidden in darkness as clearly as if in light. Perception penetrated beyond the present; it could visualise outcomes, intentions and buried dreams.

The last of the genetic mutations was the Whisper. Vocal cords morphed and mutated into something quite different to the average voice of the People. Whispering was an art beheld by a lucky few. It was the ability to both slip beneath and far exceed the vocal range of the average person. Ironically, a Whisper was imperceptible by the human ear both in its lowest and highest frequency. The Whisper, when mastered, could quietly coerce and control the minds of many creatures but it could also be hurled at such a volume the resulted in The Alternates, and any others targeted, audio canal fractured and burst.

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If you’re a fan of LOTR, Dune, The Last of Us and/or The Witcher - This is the kinda energy I’m trying to channel here.

I really hope this IC doesn’t just sit here, becoming dusty and desolate. If you’re still reading, thank you for taking the time! Reach out here, or in my PMs, I’d love to collaborate on this together.

I’m hoping it’ll become a detailed, long term RP with so much opportunity for battle scenes, adventure and development.

Hope to hear from you soon,

May

Bloodbound & Broken

“The Vigil.”

As soon as it had left Lyselle’s lips and floated out into the air before them, Renaissance Le Sang swiped the razor sharp talon across her forearm and watched her dark, thick blood ooze in response. The Ancient had already begun her hurried enchantment, her voice slithering into that serpentine hiss effortlessly. Like someone bilingual flitting between languages, Ren switched to the chant she knew so well. Hurried syllables hissed, intonations rushed to form. This Blood Magic needed to take ahold, and quickly.

“I can sense Delwyn… a couple of the newer recruits and…”
Her hand tightened around Ren’s, a subtle reassurance.
“One of the Masters. There are seven of them… it’s Lady Seraphine Holt. She’s strict—even among the Vigil—and she has a reputation as a hunter…”
Ren squeezed back in acknowledgement, continuing to repeat her chosen spell. She could feel the Blood Magic winding and twisting through her veins as it took form, lapping up the Vampire blood that had been offered as sacrifice. Blood Magic felt like fever, hot and fast through the body, disorientating if not carried out by a seasoned caster. Thanks to her years of undead life, Renaissance was confident that the spell would take. She could feel, in the way it left her body with fierce determination, that she’d done enough to influence the outcome.

This Blood Magic was not widely used in battle often. Many didn’t see the benefit of casting this particular spell. But Ren knew human nature, she knew the twists and turns of battle and what really influenced a fights outcome were emotions. Even the most skewered matches, with one far more powerful than another, could be won should there be an opening of opportunity. And what could drive a wedge in battle? Create an opportunity where those less likely to have won could strike? Emotions. So this enchantment that Ren had uttered so hastily under her breath, hand gripping on to her beautiful Huntress whilst her blood trickled down her forearm in sacramental sacrifice, would heighten these Human’s emotions.

The spell would take hold regardless of the emotions presented to it. The affected would feel each and every emotion within them tenfold. So, as Renaissance Le Sang watched the Vigil approach with visible but restricted disdain, she assessed each of her enemies in quick succession.

Delwyn, twisted with rage, would soon feel his fury transform and mutate into an uncontrollable implosion of the senses. That hardened expression, his furrowed brow and twisted lips, would crush into unbridled wrath. And what was the effect of anger on battle? Well, it added a ferocity that would certainly strengthen him for a time, but uncontrollable rage made fighters clumsy. Anger replaces logic. It blocks brain receptors responsible for clever calculation. This Blood Magic intended for the hardened Hunter to become clumsy in his vengeful state.

Then, the newborn recruit. Visibly youthful and unscathed by battles past, Ren’s fangs immediately dropped into view upon laying eyes on him. She could smell his apprehension, those widened eyes giving away his fear. Once the Blood Magic found him, he’d feel petrified. His nerves would shake his bones, fear gripping at his heart and squeezing for good measure. A fearful fighter will likely flee or fumble. Ren hoped for both. Her primal, animalistic desires wished for the latter. She enjoyed a chase.

Next to him was an entirely forgettable woman, perhaps a sight more experienced than the young man. She was poised for battle and seemed more readied, but it was clear she would be following the lead of her superiors. The Blood Magic would find her dependence on instruction and leadership, it would murk her ability to think independently. That need for obedience and compliance would absorb her, render her incapable of thinking for herself. A fighter depending entirely on command would be slow to act instinctively, the enchantment would be sure to further lessen her ability to fight alone.

Finally, the most complex case, the Master. Renaissance could sense her gravitas before she even spoke. Power recognises power and Ren knew she would be the hardest to befall.
“We’re going to have to be very careful, Lady Renaissance,” Lyselle’s voice felt muffled, far away. Ren was focused on finalising the enchantment. Due to the haste with which it had been cast, it wasn’t proving strong enough to corrupt all 4 of the Vigil members. The Master’s mind was too well protected for this spell. Ren struggled to see her achilles heel beneath the ironclad wall of strength the Hunter had built around her mind and self. So the Ancient Vampire accepted she’d have to leave the Vigil Leader untouched for now, rounding off the spell like garnishing a dish.

As the four Vigil members assembled opposite them, outnumbering Ren and Lys 2:1, the Blood Magic dissipated into the air around them. The Ancient Vampire’s breathing was steady but at a marginally quickened pace. She was relieved that she’d managed to cast before the inevitable battle began. She wondered what this would be doing to her Human love, how it would feel to be faced with her ‘family.’ It was so close to her departure, Lyselle had barely been away from the Vigil a day. Would being faced with them all here and now change her mind? Would laying eyes on the Master awaken her to the folly of the events unfolded? Renaissance felt her body click into the predatory mode she knew so well and a warning growl vibrated from her chest.

“Lyselle… that’s enough toying around with the dead. Or—don’t tell me you let that ‘thing’ dominate you. You didn’t, did you? If you did, we’ll be doing mental drills for the next month.”

The Master spoke with a cool, cold steadiness. Renaissance hissed in response to the disrespect.

‘Or—don’t tell me you let that ‘thing’ dominate you.‘

The sentence echoed like a taunt in Ren’s mind. Her body went rigid with an irritation she could barely control. The words reverberated in the Ancient Vampire’s body like a gnarly reminder. She’d take great pleasure in ripping that sullied tongue from the Master Hunter’s mouth.

Bloodbound & Broken

They say when pivotal moments play out in your life that time warps into something more comparable to a concept. In fear, time quickens. Things unravel, quickly, beyond your control. In sadness, every second elongates, stretches, taking your pain from momentary to endless. But in love? Time seems to expand. And that expansion feels like a broadening of the mind, the heart, the senses. Renaissance felt everything around her expand as her lips melted into Lyselle’s. She no longer cared whether the kiss lasted seconds or days, as long as it happened. Her hands, like a talented sculptor, worked over Lyselle’s body. As if her sight had failed, she wanted to commend every inch of this human to her memory. Her hands skirted over her arms, her clavicles, her beating chest. They danced their way down her waist, around her hips, to the small of her back. Nimble fingers flickered like fairy lights over the top of Lyselle’s thighs, then they retreated back up to her midriff, tracing the outline right where her rib cage became her accentuated hips.

With every breath Ren reemerged for, she resubmitted to the kiss like a diver. She wanted to drown in it, let her body surrender to that relentless current pulling her back in for more. Lyselle’s warm, soft lips fit perfectly within hers, slipping between them then pressing themselves on top. They shared the lead of the kiss, first Ren would pout hungrily, then her human would lean back in for more. It was the kiss of two beings who realised how long they’d been hungry for this. An appetite not yet fed, unknown, dormant within them. Now they had a taste, it would be impossible to pry Ren away.

A cool morning breeze whipped round them, lifting their hair up and flicking it around both of their faces. Ren’s cloak danced with the wind and the feeling of the fully risen sun bathed them both in a glorious light. With a small gasp, the Ancient broke the spell. She pulled away slightly from the kiss and peered somewhat apprehensively at the sun above her. Though it were myth that vampires perished in sunlight, it wasn’t entirely comfortable nor preferable for them to be stood in it. It depleted their power, diminished their abilities. Yet Ren still felt her power bubbling inside her, unaffected by the light that usually robbed her.

“Lyselle…” the Vampire whispered, her breath brushing the humans lips. Her mind flicked through the strange occurrences: Lyselle’s speed, Ren’s single tear, her new resistance to sunlight…
“I think the bond is gifting us…”

She hated to pull away from the embrace. Unreasonably, she would’ve remained right there until her final days if she could. But this revelation begged to be shared. And if Ren could sense a difference, Lyselle probably could too.

“My love, I haven’t cried since the 1500s… And right now? The sunlight is doing absolutely nothing to quell my power… And your speed in the forest? Almost as quick as I can move?… The bond - It’s connecting us both in more ways than we realise.”

Just as she waited for Lyselle’s response, something twisted a knot in her stomach. Like a wildcat sensing a predator, like a woman walking home alone at night notices footsteps behind her; Renaissance realised they soon would no longer be alone. Her eyes widened, pupils dilating. Her hand flew to Lyselle’s and she held it tight, instinctively pulling her closer. They were just outside of the forest still, in a residential area somewhere a little outside of Belle View. People were yet to awaken, the inhabitants of nearby houses still not disturbing the streets peace with their presence. No, this company was not human. Not like civilians anyway.

The Ancient Vampire extracted her talon, keeping it by her side for now. Her skin prickled with the sense of danger. It was impending.

“Lyselle - What’s coming?” Renaissance Le Sang hissed urgently. She awaited her Huntresses sixth sense to inform her.

Bloodbound & Broken

The Ancient Vampire and promising Huntress walked side by side, hand in hand, the rising sun enveloping the scene below in golden light. As it climbed up through the clouds, the giant ball of fire splayed impressive rays through the bright blue sky. Shards of gold. Like watercolour; oranges, reds, yellows and flecks of purple beamed across the horizon. Renaissance and Lyselle exited the forest, finally finding their footing a lot easier on grassland. The thick blanket of trees, hiding the secrets of their battle with werewolves, was behind them now. Ren cast her eyes over their shoulders, shoulders pressed firmly together as if close simply wasn’t close enough. She admired how, like them, the trees were intertwined. Branches interlocking with branches like wrangled hands, leaves brushing against leaves with the whispers of secrets the forest kept. Thankful to turn their back on the werewolves and Wysteria, Ren embraced the moment alone with Lyselle and clung to it. She realised just how much she’d craved exactly this; Just them.

It didn’t occur to the Ancient Vampire, until she allowed the thought to intercept, that it had been just 1 singular day since Lyselle had spotted her up on that rooftop. How had a mere 24 hours brought such a tsunami of emotions? They were deep in it now, the crests of waves breaking over them, covering them from head to toe. Each time Ren came up for air, she felt another surge of emotion coming. The bond was flooded with the amalgamation of both their feelings, Ren’s body prickled with every shift. Lyselle’s heart and mind were working on overdrive and it was becoming difficult to decipher whose were whose thoughts.

The Ancient Vampire envisaged taking the reins of the bond once more, as she had earlier. She wanted to control the flow of it, to make this all more manageable. She could barely think of anything else, save for what the connection that tied them together, wanted her to think.

“It’s all-consuming…” Ren muttered. Her lids fluttered shut, the curtains to her soul pulling together for a moment. In the darkness of closed eyes, she found clarity. The bond bent to her will, the volume quietening to a dull roar. The vampire exhaled. She could finally listen to Lyselle, truly tend to her words. And as the human Huntress spoke, she observed every micro expression, every finite detail. She marvelled at the way her lips formed sentences, the way she became breathy at unfinished thoughts, the way she used ellipses instead of full stops… Ren smiled as Lyselle’s throat bobbed with a cautious swallow, that soft laughter like the tinkering of a bell. She took in every precious syllable.

“I… I don’t know how to describe how you make me feel…“

“To come when you call seems as natural as breathing to me...”

“You’re changing me too...”

“The real place I have in this world is you—and only ever will be you…”

Renaissance felt a warm, embracing feeling wind around every limb, cocooning her in a blanket of comfort. Lyselle’s honesty, bearing her heart for the Ancient Vampire, it caused an explicable swell of unadulterated adoration. She could feel the glow of heart radiating from her eyes as she poured her gaze across Lyselle. It felt like she’d been set ablaze, flames erupting from her pores. And in that moment, she knew what she felt. There’d been uncertainty, bafflement, at this bond and all it brought with it. But Ren could finally get a grasp on what this was. It was something she’d felt fractions of before, fragments of a mirror. But this, this was different. It was a new. And that had been why she’d found it so difficult to define. But listening to Lyselle, her body and mind responded in a way that left her with only one possibility remaining: Love. It had to be! What else would drive her to this brink that she was stood upon? Like being on the edge of a cliff side, looking out into a wondrous abyss of unknown and knowing in her heart that she wanted to jump. It had to be love.

“Do you think this is permanent—what’s happening to us? I’ll be the first to say that I genuinely hope it is. Life before you came into it was all a blur, dark nights filled with training after training in some attempt to earn love. But with you, I… I don’t feel that pressure. It’s scary, and it’s a relief.”

Renaissance let Lyselle lean closer, breath catching in her throat as her dainty features came sharper into focus, and her body matched the movement. She dropped Lyselle’s hand and held her face instead, with both hands, fanning her fingers across cheeks and hair. With her thumbs, she gently brushed Lyselle’s cheekbones, and she leant her head forward so there were forehead to forehead. Lash to lash, Ren gazed deeply into Lyselle’s eyes. Chartreuse meeting hazel brown, they shared an elongated, longing look before Ren’s rosy lips parted to speak.

”Lyselle, I know this is overwhelming. It’s beyond what either of us could’ve hoped to dream of. But it’s real. I feel you. I feel you everywhere, in everything I do. My soul has submitted to you, to knowing you, to protecting you for as long as we are together. From this moment, right here, just as the sun has risen another day I know I will love you. I will love you now, I will love you then and I’ll love you forever in between-“ Something prickled in the vampires eyes, a burning feeling she hadn’t felt in a very long time. “This is the beginning for us both. Which means it’s the end of all we’ve ever known. It’s time to abandon reason where experience has failed us. This is something unlike anything we’ve felt before and it’s taken me until now to decipher exactly what it is…” The singular tear fleshed out in her duct before it spilled over and trailed down the vampires cheek, leaving a shining streak in its wake.
”It has to be love, Lyselle. It has to be… I’m sure of it.”

The Ancient Vampire let out a quick exhale, expelling the weight of what she’d just confessed. Pushing the fear of vulnerability out of her mind and instead narrowing her eyes just centimetres from Lyselle’s. Then, she closed the tiny gap between them, and she pressed her plush lips against hers. They collided with such conviction a small, almost inaudible moan rumbled in her throat. Flexing her lips, deepening the kiss, Renaissance angled her head to gently pry Lyselle’s lips open, to wrap them around her own. Time slowed to a stop and the world around them both melted away to nothing. Nothing but them, only them, as Ren hoped it would be for forever to come.

Bloodbound & Broken

Renaissance felt the flow of energy that pulsated in her hand, the one that was wrapped around Lyselle’s like a cocoon. There was a pleasant heaviness at their connecting palms, a reminder of the bond that sizzled from their touch. Their fingers were tangled, tying themselves around one another like satin ribbon. It felt like something they’d done many times before, despite this being the first. As if it were a comfortable habit, the Slayer and the Vampire’s hands slinked together effortlessly.

Ren stole glances at her bonded Human, still drinking her in like a warm cup of hot chocolate on a winters day. She wondered if Lyselle’s beauty would be something she grew accustomed to one day. Would she cease to be compelled by those high cheekbones or the glossy hair or the golden brown eyes that found her own so often? They’d catch one another stealing long gazes at the other, small smiles of acknowledgment passing their faces as if they knew a secret no one else did.

The forest had begun to thin out, the spacing between the trees widening and the path becoming less scattered with roots and branches. Ren felt the sunlight cutting through the canopy of leaves overhead, slicing little streaks of light into the ground beneath their feet. She braced herself for the inevitable discomfort of feeling that sunlight on her skin, the itch that would tingle beneath the surface.

“It brings a lot of questions to mind—like what it is, how it formed, why us... and seeing you...” Lyselle’s soft voice was laced with curiosity, her face pinched with wonder. Trailing off thoughtfully, the Huntress scanned the horizon, the sun refracting in her glassy eyes. The rays caused the golden flecks in Lyselle’s hazel orbs to glimmer entrancingly. The Ancient Vampire nodded pensively at her Huntresses unfinished sentence. “I’m sure I have some kind of documentation of this in my archives,” Ren stated, mentally scanning the shelves back at the Loft. “I’ve heard of vampires sharing telepathic connections and soul ties, but that’s the blood bond - This is different. It’s all consuming. The scholar in me wishes to work it out, like an equation. We’ll do our research. We’ll figure it out.”

A moment passed, the pair settling into a steady rhythm, their shoes crunching leaves in harmony. At a quick glance, they were two women hand in hand taking an early morning walk through the forest, little did a passerby know that they were so much more than that.

Lyselle went on to explain the vampire stigma she’d been raised with. Of course the Vigil demonised vampires, how else would they encourage their Hunters to so actively pursue them? And in part, the Vigil were right. There certainly was vampires out there with an unquenchable thirst for blood. The Covens were full of elitist vampirism, enslaving humans and building blood farms. Those creatures forgot their humanity completely and surrendered to the bloodlust, becoming beasts driven by hunger and power. Ren had never stretched her soul to the point of breaking. She’d clung to what little was left of herself, determined to give purpose to her new undead life that wasn’t centred around blood. Ren was glad to hear Lyselle had always questioned the Vigil narrative, even before they’d met. She was bright. Perceptive. A mind like hers would’ve proven foundation-shattering if permitted to grow within the Hunter’s organisation. Would she have ever mustered the courage to share her doubts? Would she have repressed those challenging retorts she so badly wanted to say out loud? They’d never know. But Lyselle had been proven right, there was such thing as a vampire less grotesque than the ones she’d imagined. In fact, here the Huntress was, hand in hand with her natural born enemy.

”Even more so... you care so deeply for my comfort and my feelings, I—”

The ancient smiled softly as the forest cleared and they came upon a quiet residential close, deserted at this early hour. Ren caressed Lyselle’s hand with her thumb, tightening her grip a little in agreement with the Human’s observations.

“Regardless of this link between us, my feelings for you are insatiable” Renaissance’s voice was laden with emphasis, as if she were speaking in emboldened lettering. “These feelings, they’re making me soft” a little chuckle fell from the Vampires lips and she shook her head incredulously at what she was about to say. “It almost feels as if being this bonded to you is making me feel closer to my human spirit. I feel protective, over you, over your happiness… It‘s quelled my thirst for you completely. When I hear your heart beat, I don’t want to rip it from you. When I smell your blood, nothing within me feels compelled to drink. You’re changing me, Lyselle…”