Moonberry

[Duchy Wilds] In the Quiet Jungle

When Edwin’s arm slipped around the woman’s waist, the closeness revealed a telling detail—her skin carried no warmth, no flush at all. Nothing of the embarrassed heat that might have risen to Aedrianna’s cheeks.

And when he tried to lower the cub into her satchel, the little creature’s reaction was immediate. It snarled and lashed out with tiny claws, swiping furiously before twisting back into his grip. In a heartbeat, it clambered up the length of his arm and pressed itself tight against his shoulder, hackles raised and a low growl rumbling at its throat.

“Aedrianna” grimaced.

“You didn’t kill it?!”

Her voice was sharp, frustrated—wrong. For a flicker, the illusion faltered. Hair that should have been pale shimmered into a cascade of pink, and eyes that should have been violet-blue burned instead with cold amethyst fire. The shimmer snapped back into place, her form settling into its borrowed face, but the crack in her disguise lingered.

Before Edwin could press her, noise surged from beyond the ruin.

It was not a single sound, but a rising cacophony—the thundering whinny of a warhorse, the guttural snarl of a beast, voices shouting over one another in alarm. The jungle outside was no longer silent; it boiled with commotion.

The woman shifted subtly, as though to block his path.

Then, sudden and jarring, two men stumbled into the chamber. Their movements were frantic, eyes wide with the wild edge of prey that knew it was being hunted. They froze for only a heartbeat, staring between Edwin and the woman wearing Aedrianna’s face—then their hands shot to their belts.

Steel glinted in the gloom as both drew daggers, exchanging one quick, silent look before charging forward.

The echo of their boots on stone rang loud in the chamber, blades raised high as they rushed in to drive the points home.

Hello There!

Hey ! Welcome!

I enjoy medieval fantasy stuff my self. Especially when there's a splash of magitech in there to give it just a little scifi feel. It can be a whole new aesthetic.

Group roleplays can be a lot of fun, especially when you've got a goal you've all agreed to work towards. If you're interested in an original group setting shoot me a message!

[Duchy Wilds] In the Quiet Jungle

☽·.༺【 ►】༻.·☾

The beast’s body convulsed under the blows. Lightning sizzled, shadows coiled, and the crack of steel against rotted bone rang sharp through the sacrificial chamber. What was once a predator of mana collapsed into ruin, its screams tearing into silence before its form gave way entirely. Flesh sloughed, bone crumbled, until the corpse split apart into dust and shards of brittle black.

The fallen cultist’s body followed. Their blood, which had seeped into the etched glyphs, flared once before the corpse shimmered unnaturally and vanished, leaving behind only cracked stone and a faint, fading glow.

For the first time since Edwin’s arrival, the chamber was empty. Silent. The cub was still in his gauntlet. Its trembling slowed now, the tiny creature curling itself into a tighter ball, peeking only once at the ruin around them before burying its muzzle against cold armor.

The cracked archway beyond opened back into the midday light.

The last echoes of the fight still hung in the air—the hiss of necrotic energy fading from the stones, the brittle collapse of the beast’s body into dust and fragments. The chamber settling into silence, only the faint glow of glyphs pulsing along the cracked dais bearing witness to the violence that had just unfolded.

And then—

The sound of hurried footsteps.

From the far end of the ruin’s corridor, a figure came running. Sunlight spilled through gaps in the broken ceiling above, glinting against pale yet colorful hair streaked with sweat and dirt. Blood ran in a thin line from her forehead, tracing down across her cheek.

When her amethyst eyes landed on him, they widened in sudden, desperate relief. Her voice cracked with raw emotion as she stumbled forward, breathless.

“You’re okay?!”

Her arms lifted as though she meant to throw herself into his embrace, the faint shimmer of the pendant around her neck brightening with every step she closed between them.

Hmph. Kingu Kurimuzon.

Aw man, the baddies that get redeemed are some of my favorites to cheer on!

If you're open to fantasy settings I'm part of a group that roleplays together in a medieval fantasy world with a splash of magitech and steampunk. We're always open to new members to come and build on to the lore. That's where I've had my characters for a few years now.

[Ryke - Dungeon] Languishing Large Loner

Evie’s grip tightened on her bat as she felt the weight of Locke’s gaze. She turned her head just enough to catch him in her periphery—the faceplate hissing down over his features, rifle steady, his presence like a wall at her back.

Roscoe was pressed close to her hip, ears pinned, a low vibration humming in his throat as he stared at the floating faces.

Evie drew a slow breath through her nose and gave Locke a single nod, sharp but sure.

“I’m good,” she murmured, voice low enough for only him to catch. Her eyes softened a fraction behind the words. “Helmet on. You know the drill. If I start losing it, you drag me back.”

Then she turned back toward the stair.

The masks hovered there, swaying faintly in currents of air she couldn’t feel. Rage snarled. Joy leered. Disappointment pressed thin and sharp. But her gaze fixed on the one that sagged under the weight of sorrow.

It looked… tired. Hollowed. A mirror of the grief she’d seen too many times in hospital beds and field cots.

Her steps slowed as she approached, Roscoe whining low in his chest but keeping with her until she placed a steadying hand on his shoulder.

“Stay, boy.”

She crouched just slightly, extending her free hand. The bat hung at her side, its tape-scuffed grip slick against her palm as her other fingers brushed the air.

And then—slow, deliberate—Evie reached out and touched the sad mask.

[Duchy Wilds] In the Quiet Jungle

☽·.༺【 ►】༻.·☾

The chamber groaned with the sound of breaking stone as Edwin’s aura pulsed again, jagged shadows crackling outward like a living storm. The cultist seized forward in their advance, their plain face twisting in an eerily pleased expression a split second before the three-pronged lance drove cleanly down.

SCHLIK.

The strike landed true. Bone and flesh parted under the crackling prongs, lightning arcing in sizzling veins down through their skull. For the briefest moment their expression froze — slack-jawed, laughter cut off mid-breath — before their head toppled from their shoulders and rolled across the floor with a hollow, echoing knock. Their body crumpled a heartbeat later, spasms still twitching as necrotic shadows ate into the remains.

But the chamber was not quiet.

The Mana Beasts hollow eye burned brighter, green fire glaring with defiance as it scraped its skeletal teeth from the dents and punctures left in Edwin’s armor. Chunks of rotted flesh sloughed away under the bite, dripping uselessly onto the stones. The knight’s armor held, but the sound — wet grinding bone on steel — clawed at the silence.

It drew its head back, jaws stretching wide for another savage chomp—

Hiss!

The cub.

Hardly larger than Edwin’s gauntlet, the tiny creature spat and swiped with a feeble paw, claws flashing once against the looming monster’s nose. The gesture was pitifully small, almost laughable, but the effect was startling. The undead beast jerked back a fraction, its jaw snapping shut with a sharp clack, recoiling from the cub’s hiss like a predator stung.

That recoil revealed something rather troubling. Beneath them, the blood was pooling from the decapitated cultist, spreading fast across the cracked stones, spidering toward a dip in the room that looked almost like a drain.

The skeletal claw of the undead mana beast rose and came down to strike at Edwins side. An unnatural cry emitting from its rotting throat.

stats

Edwin: 4/5
Cultist: 0/35
Mana Beast: 18/30 -1 from necrotic damage, -1 from Aura dealing with the cultist.

┍━☽【❖】☾━┑

Elsewhere,...

Aedrianna kept her body pressed low against the war steed’s neck, violet-blue eyes flicking sharply through the dense curtain of foliage. The beast’s hooves churned against damp earth and twisted roots, powerful but slowed by the uneven terrain. She urged him on with a firm nudge of her heel, whispering soft encouragements into the flick of his ear.

“Steady now… steady. Just a little further.”

Her voice quavered, not from fear but from the anger and dread knotting in her chest. The soothing words were as much for herself as they were for the beast beneath her.

The faint, invisible tug of her mana-trace pulled her down the slope they had been climbing, toward thinner trees and looser undergrowth. The humid air shifted with each step, the musk of rot and wet greenery giving way to a sharper, cleaner scent. Water. The lake was near.

And then she saw it.

Through the gaps of jungle, a pile of stones jutted against the horizon—collapsed walls, broken columns, and half-sunken arches overtaken by moss and vine. It might once have been a temple, but now it was nothing more than a ruin, jagged edges thrust skyward like the bones of some ancient corpse.

But it was not empty.

Figures lingered at the ruin’s base.

Her breath hitched as she reined the steed to a slower gait, ducking low into the saddle. They looked so… plain. Utterly unremarkable in their faces, their clothes, their bearing. They almost blended together.

All save one.

At the heart of the group stood a woman—striking, vivid, as though she had been painted with a different brush. Long pink hair fell like silk down her shoulders, framing eyes the color of polished amethyst. In her hands, she turned over an amulet that hung around her neck, its surface faintly glowing.

The war steed pawed at the ground beneath them, restless, ears pinning back as his crimson gaze fixed on the gathered strangers. Aedrianna’s grip on the reins tightened, her pulse hammering in her ears. Edwin was inside those ruins—her tracing spell had made that much certain—but there were seven of those strange, indistinct men blocking the way… and that woman with the pink hair and violet eyes, her amulet pulsing faintly with power.

Aedrianna bit her lip, mind racing, the wheels turning as she searched for a way through.

“Maybe…” she muttered under her breath. Sliding from the saddle, her boots hit the damp earth softly. She moved quickly to the horse’s side, turning her body so the ruins were at her back, and pointed her fingers toward the opposite treeline.

Her voice dropped to a whisper, syllables catching on the breath as she shaped mana into form. The illusion began to shimmer faintly in the foliage beyond—a trick of sound and light, the suggestion of movement, something large crashing through undergrowth.

But before she could focus the spell, the war steed beside her gave a shrill whinnie.

His head snapped back violently, hooves striking the air as he reared onto his hind legs. The ground shook beneath her boots as his massive form thrashed at something behind her. And then,...

Hmph. Kingu Kurimuzon.

Welcome!

I'm a fan of fantasy and action/adventure stuff myself. Character development is what I live for! I've had some of my characters in my group for near two years now. It's really fun to watch them grow and adapt to each new situation.

What are your favorite types of characters to play? I tend to lean towards the healer types my self.

[Ryke - Dungeon] Languishing Large Loner

Roscoe’s growl tapered off as the girl stepped out, Evie’s grip firm on his collar until his hackles finally eased. The bat stayed in her hand, but her posture softened the moment she saw the stranger’s face.

Blue hair, waist-long, catching the green-gold light through the canopy. For just a second, Evie blinked—and then let out a low whistle.

“Damn, girl… that’s some hair.” Her mouth tugged into the faintest grin. “If I had half a bottle of shampoo and a brush, I’d kill for that kind of shine out here. You pull that off in the jungle? Respect.”

Roscoe huffed once, mismatched eyes flicking between the two women before settling into a guarded sit at Evie’s side.

She nodded once to Aoi, her grin fading into something steadier.

“Evie. This here’s Locke—” she jerked her chin toward the rifle still at half-ready, “—Bigs,” a glance toward the Marine, “and the dwarf’s Androph. We’re with the Guild.”

Her bat shifted back across her shoulder, eyes sliding past Aoi toward the yawning stair. The masks hovered there like a school of jellyfish in a dark tide, each face lit with its own sickly glow. Joy. Rage. Grief. Disappointment. The air shimmered around them, and the longer she looked, the more her stomach tightened.

“...Alright. Someone tell me I’m not losing it. You all see those, yeah?”

She dragged a hand down her face, exhaling sharp through her nose, then turned to Locke. Her tone was calm, but edged with the grit of someone forcing herself into command.

“I’m gonna walk through. Test what they do. If I start talking sideways or acting strange, you put your helmet on, hold your breath, and drag me out. Clear?”

Roscoe growled again, uneasy this time, his ears flat as he stared at the shifting masks. Evie crouched, brushing her fingers against his ruff.

“Easy, boy. I’ll be right back. Promise.”

She stood, bat gripped tight, eyes fixed on the staircase.

[Duchy Wilds] In the Quiet Jungle

☽·.༺【 ►】༻.·☾

The pulse tore outward like the cracking of thunder bottled in stone. Shadows raced across the chamber floor in jagged streaks, lightning coiling within them, black as tar and sharp as glass. The glyphs etched into the walls hissed and flared against the surge, their glow warping as if recoiling from Edwin’s claim.

The undead Mana Beast shrieked, its cry warped and guttural, a sound like two voices layered atop one another. The necrotic wave ate into its flesh, stripping an entire leg to bare bone in a matter of seconds, meat sloughing away in chunks that hit the stones wetly. Half its face blackened and peeled, one eye socket left hollow, yet the other burned brighter green, glaring at him with unnatural hunger.

The cub in Edwin’s grip went still. Its small claws curled tight against his gauntlet, body trembling—but not in fear. Its wide eyes fixed on him, ears flattened, breath caught as though it were awed by the force he unleashed.

The figure in the corner collapsed to their knees as the wave struck. Their plain features twisted, necrosis crawling up one leg, eating into skin and cloth alike. For a heartbeat, they trembled as if the damage might end them.

Then they laughed.

The sound rang through the chamber, sharp and jagged, cracking in and out of sanity. They bent low, coughing blood, their body already cracking where the necrotic spread, but still they laughed.

“A sacrifice… hah—yes, you’ll make just as good a sacrifice as the beast.” Their voice grew ragged, teeth bared in something between a grin and a snarl. “You think dominion makes you master? Fool. One’s claim cannot rise against the natural laws of the world.”

They forced themselves upright, staggering. A massive maul had appeared in their grip, its head spiked and cruel, edges catching faint glimmers of mana. Though their legs buckled under necrosis, they lurched forward, step after step, laughing through the ruin of their own flesh.

The Mana Beast shuddered on its ruined limbs, and still it came. Its skeletal leg scraped uselessly but it dragged itself forward with the others, jaws yawning wide to snap shut around him.

From either side they closed—the lunatic advancing with the maul, the half-dead beast lunging with unnatural hunger.

The cub curled itself into a trembling ball in his grasp.The only spark of innocence in a chamber now drowned in menace.

The situation was clear: two threats, closing fast, their bodies breaking under his power yet still rising, driven not by life but by something fouler. The weight of the cult’s obsession pressed in with the silence, broken only by laughter and the wet drag of the beast’s stride.

Stats

Cultist: 25/35
Undead Mana Beast: 20/30
Both Enemies will lose -1 HP upon next round regardless of damage dealt in the characters post due to necrotic damage.

Cultist: Used Conversion, and is making an attempt to swing at Edwin, on failing legs. Will lose an additional -2 hp each following round.
[The will of a Mad Man] : [Conversion] E,(+2) [Martial: Blunt/Mace Weapon] E, (+2)[Athletics] F, (+1) [Focus] F, (+1) (+2 Str) = 8 BE?
Undead Mana Beast: Makes an attempt to launch its jaws at Edwin.
[Crunch]: [Natural Weapons] E, (+2) [Incapacitating] F, (+1) = 3 BE?

You can roll a dice, with 10DC being the number to reach out of a d20. To see if he can roll out of the way. Or take 1 dmg and deal a final blow to one enemy.

┕━☽【❖】☾━┙

Meanwhile...

Aedrianna watched as the man she'd all but given her heart to disappeared before her eyes. She stood for a half second, staring in disbelief at the scene before her. The blood, the gore; her love. Gone. Just stones, faintly glowing in the dim light of the eerily quiet jungle. And perhaps it was only now, that his presence was gone; she realized just how strange and ominous this jungle was. Her eyes slowly swiveled over to the large war horse, who was pawing at the ground and snorting irritatedly. His head thrashing off to the side, as if looking into the distance. Like it knew where its master was. Finally the shock began to seep away, and an angry focus drilled itself into her. She'd dragged him out here to have some time to get to know him better. To learn their capabilities together as a team. But this, this was unacceptable.

Her blue and violet eyes scanned the stones for a second before she thrust her hand into the satchel her aunt had given her. Pulling out what looked to be plain chalk. She muttered unintelligibly to herself as she stepped up to the stones. Pausing and looking around as if expecting to be swept away like Edwin.

However when that didn't happen she shook her head and knelt down, looking at the glyphs that had been etched on the stones. With the chalk in her hand,Aedrianna set to work. Their surfaces were uneven, gouged deep with etched glyphs that pulsed faintly in the gloom. Blood — old, dry, and flaked black — streaked across the lines, giving the altar a grotesque texture that snagged her glove as she brushed her fingers over it.

Her book aside, she pressed the chalk to the stone. The first stroke crumbled beneath her touch, forcing her to press harder. She muttered darkly under her breath as she traced runes into the gaps between ancient carvings, layering her own equations atop sacrificial scrawl.

“Damn it… this was supposed to be a date, not another nightmare.” Her voice cracked as she smeared out a crooked ratio with the heel of her palm, leaving a white streak across her glove.

Lines turned jagged where the stone edges rose, but she pressed on, dragging her chalk across them in sharp arcs. Sweat collected along her brow as she tried to remember the numbers her uncle drilled into her.

“Four to one… no, no—stop shaking, focus. Damn it, Aedri, you already know this, you took two years of algebra and studied for weeks under uncle!”

The jungle’s silence pressed in heavier, the only sounds the war horse pacing and snorting at her back, and the brittle squeal of chalk grinding into rock. The beast tossed its head, crimson eyes flashing, ears pinned forward like it too sensed the pull.

Aedrianna clenched her jaw, teeth grit hard, as she scrawled the last line and thrust her palm down into the center of her messy circle.

For a long, aching second—nothing. Just her ragged breathing and the tremor of her tired arms. Then the runes flared.

The chalk lines lit up in cascading sparks, searing white-blue, crawling like veins across the stones until they bled into the ancient glyphs. Her circle tangled with the altar’s script, and for a moment the two pulsed together, like a single beating heart.

The pull came next: a thread of mana that wrapped tight around her chest, tugging in a direction the average eye couldn’t see. She gasped and pulled her hand back, the chalk clattering onto the stone.

Behind her, the war horse reared slightly, pawing at the earth as though answering the same call. She blinked a few times, and watched as a line began to shine in her eye sight. A trail of blue light, leading into the depths of the forest. She pushed herself up and ran to the war steed, stroking its muzzle and whispering quietly.

"Come on, I'll show you where he's at." She grabbed at the reigns, and with some maneuvering, she pulled herself into the destriers saddle. Leaning down so her chest was hugged to the warsteeds neck ,she whispered and pointed, nudging gently with her thighs to lead the war steed to where his master was.

Aedris actions

[Mana trace] : [Arcana] F,(+1) [alchemy] F (+1), [nature] f, (+1) [Isekai:appraisal] f (+1) [luck] f, (+1) [magic] D, (+3) [light] f (+1), - bE=9 character uses alchemy and arcana to trace the mana of a spell. - Grade D Post Cool down 2.

[Duchy Wilds] In the Quiet Jungle

╔═*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*═╗

The Jungle around them seemed to lean in on them. The weight of the air alone was palpable. And the silence prevailed, save the whimpering of the cub and the anxious chuffing of the war horse, sensing something amiss. As Edwin held the small white-and-blue creature up to his face, it licked his nose with a helpless whimper.

As it did, coincidentally, the runes on the stones began to light up even brighter. Aedrianna cried out as she realized too late. Her hand outstretched toward him as his body was swallowed in brilliance, transported away.

In the next few seconds, the dark knight found himself somewhere else entirely.

The humid press of the jungle air was gone, replaced by the cool weight of stone and the scent of earth long undisturbed. He stood inside a ruined chamber, vaulted and broken, where thin veins of sunlight slipped through cracks in the ceiling. Moss clung to the walls, and faded glyphs etched into the stone gave off a faint, sickly glow.

Before him lay the same mana beast’s body that had sprawled across the altar in the jungle clearing—but here it rested upon a cracked dais of stone. The blood that stained its fur was long dried, caked into its mane and hide, the altar beneath it dark and brittle with age. The body should have been bereft of life.

Yet it twitched.

The cub writhed in Edwin’s grasp, hissing and growling low in its throat, ears flattened and fur bristled. Its gaze never left the sight of its mother. Every sound it made directed at the corpse with instinctive revulsion.

From the far edge of the chamber, a figure shifted. They were too plain to name: neither boy nor girl, their skin, clothes, and hair washed into mediocrity so thoroughly they seemed designed to be overlooked. They leaned lazily in the shadows, watching.

Their voice carried through the ruin, toneless but cutting.
“I can feel your greed… it emanates off you. Like some dragon sitting on its hoard.”

The beast’s carcass twitched again, harder this time, bones cracking audibly in the silence. The cub snarled in Edwin’s hand, twisting with furious disapproval, its tiny body trembling as it faced the grotesque stirring of its kin.

The figure did not move. They only watched, words delivered in a drawl of disinterest.
“Do you know what lies before you? A Mana Beast. Generations warped by Leylines, their very flesh adapting to mana’s chaos. Where others break, they learned to bend. To warp. To endure.”

As they spoke, the runes in the stone flared brighter, and the carcass heaved. Its limbs jerked against the altar, dragging its broken body upright in unnatural convulsions. The dried blood cracked and flaked from its hide as though new life pushed against a brittle shell.

“It's almost sad, what magic has made it do.”

The cub shrieked in his gauntlet, eyes wide, yowling its furious defiance as the beast began to rise.

---

There's a very large Lion/Wolf like beast and it's undead. And it's about to attack Edwin. Edwin gets first strike. In order to do damage, the battle effectiveness must meet 10. (I know what I'm talking about totally.)