Malice

//The Escapade of True Misfortune\\ [2-3 more players]

I'd be interested in this!

Help! They took her!! (Pathfinder Dungoen Dive - 3 players already in, we need you!)

I'd be interested. I've not played Pathfinder, but I use to play and DM 4th Ed., so I am familiar with D&D/tabletop/pen and paper roleplaying.

⌘Exit, Pursued By A Bear⌘ {//OPEN}

Let's give this a bump, no?

A Royal's New War - EntertainMe & Malice

August walked into the house, arm linked with Lyra’s, with a little trepidation and a little… Excitement, was it? It was not the building itself that provoked such feelings inside him, but everything it represented. By stepping inside he was stepping in to, not just his new home, but his new life.

The first room the couple entered was a tastefully decorated foyer. The prince was impressed by the work the architect and the interior designers had done; it was not just the facilities that combined Angevin tech and Nephalm magic, but the décor itself was a seamless blend. Everything was simultaneously comfortingly familiar and attractively exotic.

August removed his coat, hanging it on a hook by the door, and his boots before exploring the house more fully. The prince followed his future wife in to the first room, which proved to be a living room. August was still admiring how everything had been put together, with designs from both kingdoms, when Lyra guided him towards the fireplace. There was an intricate pattern swirling across the stones, which Lyra explained was more than just decorative.

“So this… It appears to just be for show, but it is actually to prevent the fire from spreading?” August asked, tracing the pattern with a finger, “it looks like incomprehensible decoration to me… Does it mean something to you? Is it something you can read, or do you just know its use?” Perhaps magic might be easier to understand, to incorporate in to his life, if he could see it as another language, as something he did not yet grasp but could learn to do so.

Lyra appeared to be looking for something then and, finding it, pointed to a painting.

“Trigger rune?” August repeated, eyebrow raising in curiosity, “like a switch then? Such as we might use for the lights?” Realising that Lyra may be unfamiliar with the term, he added, “ah, we use switches to turn our technology on or off. I am sure we will encounter some in the house, I will point them out then if you have not come across them before.”

The prince leant forward, inspecting the painting. It was charming to look upon, but August could not help but wonder what other secrets it might hold. Maybe none, or maybe there was more magic than he could comprehend within the delicate brush strokes.

“So I just… Touch it?” August asked, raising his good hand a little hesitantly. He glanced over at his future wife and could both see and hear her excitement. It was… Wonderful. She was already a beautiful woman, but her elation only seemed to enhance the fact. Plus, her joy was contagious, and August found himself smiling in response, despite his disinclination to engage with magic.

August pressed a finger to the sun and, suddenly, as if by magic (for, indeed, it was), the fireplace crackled to life. It began as a small ember, but rapidly grew until it was sizeable enough to provide both heat and light for the whole room. August leapt back in shock; even though Lyra had told him what would happen, he was still surprised to witness it so closely. To witness magic so safely at that.

Glancing down, August noticed the bracelet at his wrist was glowing red, as promised. He lifted his arm, inspecting the jewellery.

“This is… This is remarkable, Lyra.”

The Doors of Janus [ Malice / Vox ]

Timeskip seems good to me. Can't have them hiding in the bedroom forever, haha.

The Doors of Janus [ Malice / Vox ]

Aeris opened her mouth as if to speak, hesitated and then thought better of it. She raised her left hand, her good hand, to the place where metal met skin on her right arm and, slowly and with great care, she began to twist the bolts and catches that held the prosthetic in place. Her face contorted slightly as she fiddled with the cool steel; it was not painful, at least not in the agonising, vomit inducing way it had been when she lost the limb, but it was uncomfortable.

It took a few moments, but Aeris was able to loosen everything sufficiently that she was able to detach the metal arm. The stump was uneven, but the scarring, where surgeons had expertly sewn the wound closed, was smooth and neat. There were small pits in the skin, medicine made, which acted as permanent fixings for the prosthetic; some to hold it in place, some to attach the machinery to what remained of nerves and ligaments, which allowed Aeris the full movement and control she had.

The skin was inflamed and sore looking; even after all these years, her arm had not developed callouses to protect her from the friction of the prosthetic. Still, it was better than the alternative, of having only one working upper limb.

The princess leant over the side of the bed, exposing her bare back to her new husband, the bones of her vertebrae showing as she moved. Aeris tucked the now lifeless limb under the bed and out of the way, before pulling herself back upright and shifting in to a more comfortable position. Absent mindedly, she stroked the stump, never once actually looking at it.

“There,” she said in a matter of fact tone, “that is one less thing to come between us.” She bit her tongue, thoughtfully, picking her next words with care, “death is something Qaeltine has always been averse to; we do not celebrate a life when someone passes, we do not see a beauty in it, or recognise it as being part of a bigger thing. Death is loathsome, bringing with it pain for those left alive, and nothing but rot and decay for the deceased,” Aeris paused for a moment, then, “well. Qaeltine was opposed to death, I suppose. The recent warfare has… Made us numb and indifferent, as I am sure if has for many of the Hudvalri.”

Aeris lay back on the bed, tucking her arm behind her head and stretching long legs out, with a click of her joints.

“Thus, we sought everything we could to prevent death. For the most part, our medicine was met with praise, as we extended the lives of our people and gave them opportunities that they had previously been denied, such as children for the infertile or limbs for the, ah,” Aeris cast her amber gaze upon Lokkir, “for the likes of me. The amputees.” Aeris swallowed, before continuing, “that is not to say our medicine has not seen its share of controversy. Not everyone agrees with what our doctors do, claiming it is unnatural. Your… Dislike of Qaeltine’s advancements in this area is not new to our people. You will not be the first person to be opposed to it, nor will you be the last.”

Aeris shrugged then, as best as she was able with the one arm beneath her head.

“I was fairly indifferent to it until I became a soldier. Until I lost my arm and Aerin his leg.” The princess took a deep breath before continuing, “it was agony. Not just the initial blow, but everything that followed. We do not have magic, as you know, and by having my arm literally ripped from me… One moment I was able and independent, the next I was crippled.” Aeris spoke the word as if it was poison on her tongue, foul and bitter. “I did not just lose flesh and bone that day. Without the feats that Qaeltine is capable of, I would never have regained any of what was lost to me then. Nor would Aerin, or any of our comrades.”

Aeris closed her eyes, silent.

“Ironic, is it not? As you say, we are forced to refute the humanity of our enemies. I fought in the cavalry; unlike you, I was face to face with the enemy, with those I killed, yet, without doubt, I saw none of them as people. Just the phantom ‘enemy’. Still, it is than lack of humanity that the Hudvalri placed on me that led to the loss of my arm. Then, in replacing it with metal, you and yours find it easier to see me an inhuman. As a monster or a machine. So then I am easier to maim. Then I repair myself. Then you maim me again, and so it goes. It is a vicious circle.” Aeris opened her eyes, propping herself up on her elbow to look Lokkir in the eyes.

“I… I do not blame you, you know. You or Hudvalri. For this, I mean,” she gestured with a nod of her head to what remained of her right arm. “It would be easy to but… It would be hypocritical. I have no doubt in my mind I have done the same, and worse, to your people for the same reasons. To condemn the person who hurt me, I would have to condemn myself also. And that is more difficult to live with.”

Aeris dropped back down onto the bed with a laugh, devoid of any real joy. She raised her hand to cover her eyes, lips still smirking.
“War, what is it good for?” Aeris lowered her hand, staring at the ceiling above her, with its painted runes and electric lights.

“Jade, by the way. My favourite colour is jade.”

⌘Exit, Pursued By A Bear⌘ {//OPEN}

Reorganised my main post to act a master for all the plots I've ever advertised on this site.

I'll probably change my mind soon and cut a load of stuff out again.

Psh.

Don't Fear the Reaper (shy and Malice)

@shylarah I'm sorry to hear that! My own MH is one of the reasons I've been sporadic recently, so I can empathise. I hope things improve for you soon, and feel free to reach out if you need an ear or to rant. <3

(Also apologies that my response went on a bit longer than I anticipated!)

Don't Fear the Reaper (shy and Malice)

The fates were displeased in a way that 死̵̪͕̯̊̂̈́̇̚͝神̵̺͖͈̦̝̳̈̆͌͛́̋̅͘ could never have foreseen. Their behaviour had been unprecedented and unwarranted.
Thus, 死̵̪͕̯̊̂̈́̇̚͝神̵̺͖͈̦̝̳̈̆͌͛́̋̅͘ came to find themselves in a peculiar predicament, part punishment, part example. Part adventure. 死̵̪͕̯̊̂̈́̇̚͝神̵̺͖͈̦̝̳̈̆͌͛́̋̅͘ found themselves surrounded by darkness and silence, neither of which they were unaccustomed to, but also surrounded by a frigid cold. That was a new sensation, as, indeed, was feeling much at all.

死̵̪͕̯̊̂̈́̇̚͝神̵̺͖͈̦̝̳̈̆͌͛́̋̅͘ wriggled fingers and toes experimentally, a smile quirking at the corner of their lips. They had never had fingers nor toes to wiggle before. 死̵̪͕̯̊̂̈́̇̚͝神̵̺͖͈̦̝̳̈̆͌͛́̋̅͘ shifted, moving to a sitting position, only the find their head connecting with something hard and decidedly solid.

死̵̪͕̯̊̂̈́̇̚͝神̵̺͖͈̦̝̳̈̆͌͛́̋̅͘ let out a cry of surprise. Pain was new. As was not being able to pass freely through solid matter at will.

There was the sound of grating metal and light flooded 死̵̪͕̯̊̂̈́̇̚͝神̵̺͖͈̦̝̳̈̆͌͛́̋̅͘’'s vision, revealing they were stored in a tight little metal box. 死̵̪͕̯̊̂̈́̇̚͝神̵̺͖͈̦̝̳̈̆͌͛́̋̅͘ angled their head so that could see the source of the illumination, coming face to face with a rather startled hospital porter.

死̵̪͕̯̊̂̈́̇̚͝神̵̺͖͈̦̝̳̈̆͌͛́̋̅͘ found themselves scrambling out of a mortuary fridge, their very essence captured and pooled into a human body, recently deceased. The porter seemed extremely perturbed, particularly upon noticing the rather large, rather raw looking gash, neatly sewn up, that sidled down the chest of 死̵̪͕̯̊̂̈́̇̚͝神̵̺͖͈̦̝̳̈̆͌͛́̋̅͘ ‘s new frame. Yet, despite everything that might indicate the contrary, this body was well and truly alive.

And oddly perky for someone who found themselves, only moments before, in a mortuary fridge.

And so, 死̵̪͕̯̊̂̈́̇̚͝神̵̺͖͈̦̝̳̈̆͌͛́̋̅͘ was rather hastily discharged, after papers were signed, clothes were claimed, and various staff begged to not be sued and for the whole incident to be forgotten with haste. Out of the hospital, out onto the streets, out into the world of humans.
死̵̪͕̯̊̂̈́̇̚͝神̵̺͖͈̦̝̳̈̆͌͛́̋̅͘ was staring down at what were now their hands while they walked. Experimentally they opened and closed fists, feeling the ripple of muscle and tendons beneath the skin. Each fingernail painted in chipped black polish.

Naturally, as tends to happen when one is not paying attention to where they are going, there was a bang, a sharp stab of pain and suddenly 死̵̪͕̯̊̂̈́̇̚͝神̵̺͖͈̦̝̳̈̆͌͛́̋̅͘ was on the floor staring somewhat dizzily up at the lamp post they had just walked head first in to.

Pain was going to take some getting used to, as was this irritating inability to defy the laws of physics. 死̵̪͕̯̊̂̈́̇̚͝神̵̺͖͈̦̝̳̈̆͌͛́̋̅͘ found it incredibly limiting. Added to these new sensibilities, 死̵̪͕̯̊̂̈́̇̚͝神̵̺͖͈̦̝̳̈̆͌͛́̋̅͘ became aware of the fact that they were being noticed. People looked up, some on the other side of the street laughed.

It was not distressing, just something 死̵̪͕̯̊̂̈́̇̚͝神̵̺͖͈̦̝̳̈̆͌͛́̋̅͘ was wholly inexperienced with; normally they were able to pass through the world without being seen or sensed by any but a single, dying soul.

死̵̪͕̯̊̂̈́̇̚͝神̵̺͖͈̦̝̳̈̆͌͛́̋̅͘ pulled themselves to their feet and, in doing so, noticed their reflection in a nearby window. Head cocked, they stepped closer; 死̵̪͕̯̊̂̈́̇̚͝神̵̺͖͈̦̝̳̈̆͌͛́̋̅͘ had always wondered what they looked like to others, but before it had been intangible and fluid. Now? Now they had a human face and a human body and everything was going to stay that way until…

Well, until whenever it ceased to be.

死̵̪͕̯̊̂̈́̇̚͝神̵̺͖͈̦̝̳̈̆͌͛́̋̅͘’'s body was slender with very little sign of fat or muscle, giving no visual indicator as to gender. Their face was hollow, gaunt, as one might expect from someone recently deceased (and even more recently reanimated), with two rings in the lip, one in the nose and bar in an eyebrow. Their hair was and unruly that fell just above the shoulders, with its darkness only enhancing the ashy tones of the skin. Their eyes were a vibrant green, a little unsettlingly so, and glittered with an unnatural power; a subtle shimmer of the inhuman energy that resided behind them.

There was also a thin trickle of scarlet seeping from one nostril. A result of the head on collision with the fiendish beast that was the lamp post.

死̵̪͕̯̊̂̈́̇̚͝神̵̺͖͈̦̝̳̈̆͌͛́̋̅͘ raised their hand to wipe away the blood and became aware that there was movement beyond their own reflection, coming from inside. They blinked once, twice. Sure enough, through pure serendipity, was Lee in what appeared to be a dance studio.

Without a moment’s hesitation to actually sit and think through their actions, 死̵̪͕̯̊̂̈́̇̚͝神̵̺͖͈̦̝̳̈̆͌͛́̋̅͘ banged at the window, a manic grin on their face, trying to grab the attention of the woman who should have died.

Don't Fear the Reaper (shy and Malice)

For the record, this is next on my list of responses, if you're still interested. <3