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┍━☽【❖】☾━┑






The pendant was cold in his grasp, almost unnaturally so. Its cord was frayed with age, the stone dull and cracked, yet a faint vibration lingered in it as if some hidden pulse ran through its core. Nothing stirred from it, no voice or flash of power, only that steady hum like a breath held.

The pup pressed closer against his neck, ears twitching as though it too felt the vibration. But it made no sound, no whimper or growl—just silence.

Edwin’s heavy steps echoed as he made his way through the broken passages, until at last daylight poured over steel. Outside, the ruin’s clearing was still, the humid air thick with the tang of blood.

At his shrill whistle, the war steed didn't hesitate to trot towards him. And it was then that the young woman seemed to realize she wasn't alone anymore. She turned her gaze slowly towards him.

Her arm dropped, the spell dissipating from her fingertip. The tension bled out of her posture, but what replaced it was not relief—it was guilt.

She stumbled forward, words tumbling from her lips in a rush.
“I’m sorry—I’m so sorry, Edwin—I dragged you into this—”

Her voice broke, repeating herself over and over, as if she could somehow smother the violence of the past hour under sheer apology. Her eyes, however, locked not on the pendant in his hand, nor the cub perched silent on his shoulder, but on the dark punctures that marred his armor.

Her breath caught. Panic surged in her tone as she reached for him.
“You’re hurt—oh Edwin!, you’re hurt—take it off, let me see, I can heal it, just—please, Edwin, take it off—”

Her hands hovered over his breastplate, trembling, desperate to find the wound beneath. Despite her seeming to have no serious wounds for the most part, her entire body shook violently. Likely from the adrenaline rush after everything had happened. But she looked up into his icy gaze, fear and concern flooding the violet blue orbs he'd come to know.

The pup remained nestled against him, its eyes unblinking, watching her quietly as she fussed over the damage. It made no move, no sound—just a silent weight, perched like a second set of eyes measuring the scene.
The instant his shield rasped free, the chamber seemed to recoil. The skull’s eyes burned in the dim light, and shadow poured from its mouth like smoke spilling from a furnace. It wrapped around him in coils, whispering with each curl as it sank into muscle and bone, amplifying every motion with dreadful power.

The air thickened as the glow of the glyphs fought against his encroaching aura, but the darkness spread, dragging across the stones in a widening circle. Sparks sizzled along the floor, bolts of black lightning snapping like serpents as the shadows expanded outward.

The drab-faced men who had rushed into the chamber staggered. Their knees buckled as the necrotic weight slammed into them, legs shaking against the crushing pull that threatened to grind them into the ground. Daggers slipped in clammy hands as they fought to stay upright, their faces still bland, unremarkable, and somehow infuriatingly empty.

The doppelgänger—“Aedrianna”—had no time to flee.

The lance came up under her chin, the three-pronged head lit with crackling arcs of lightning. The shadows clung to her skin as the points pierced upward, searching for bone. Her amethyst eyes widened, flickering again to pink hair, the illusion faltering with every surge of his power.

Then steel met flesh.

The scent of ozone and scorched meat filled the chamber as the blow landed, the sound echoing off the ruined stone. She convulsed against the strike, blood spilling hot down her throat as the shadows gnawed at the wound. Yet even as her body gave way, she began to laugh.

A wet, gurgling sound, equal parts mirth and death rattle, spilling out in fits as her legs gave beneath her. The laugh did not stop as she fell, her blood gushing across the stone, drawn unnaturally toward the room’s center. The glyphs drank it eagerly, their faint glow brightening into a steady, hungry pulse.

The amulet at her throat flared, burning bright, as though another sacrifice had been claimed.

The two drab men buckled against his aura, still fighting to rise, reaching feebly for their dropped weapons. One snarled, straining against the shadows, while the other was already on his knees, eyes locked blankly on the ground.

The chamber hissed with power, the air alive with energy not entirely his own. The glyphs glowed brighter, and her gurgling laughter echoed even after her body had fallen silent. The glyphs on the amulet around her neck lighting up weakly.

The hush of Edwin’s domain lasted only a heartbeat longer before the sound of frantic steps broke it. Another drab-robed figure stumbled into the chamber, his plain face twisted in panic. Behind him came the heavy thunder of claws.

A Mana Beast — larger than the one Edwin had already slain — lurched into view. Its white-blue fur was matted crimson, a deep gash tearing across its chest, blood spilling freely with every step. Foam flecked its jaws, eyes glowing feral green as it barreled after its prey.

But they did not make it far.

The shadows of Edwin’s domain surged outward again, oppressive and crushing. The drab man collapsed mid-stride, knees buckling as the aura forced him down. His dagger clattered uselessly from his hands as he hit the floor, unable to rise.

The beast crashed down on him in an instant.

Teeth split flesh with a wet crunch as the creature tore him apart, shaking his body like a rag doll. The other two men — already half-broken under the weight of the aura — could do nothing. Their legs folded, bodies collapsing as the beast wheeled on them. Jaws closed again, claws raked, and in moments the chamber was a blur of blood and shredded limbs.

The violence burned itself out as quickly as it had begun. The beast staggered, its massive frame heaving. It turned at last toward Edwin, its ruined chest glowing faintly as if fire burned within. Its eyes locked on him in a final glare—feral, unblinking—before its legs gave way.

The body collapsed, the sound echoing through the ruin. Blood streamed outward, finding the carved lines in the stone.

The glyphs drank deep.

Light surged across the chamber, flaring too bright, the glyphs pulsing with a ravenous energy that felt almost alive. The bodies of the dead began to deteriorate, as if being devoured by the temple. Leaving only the pendant the pink haired woman had been wearing. For an instant, the entire ruin seemed to draw breath, as if the stone itself were inhaling in preparation for something dreadful.

And then—nothing.

The glow lingered, but no revelation came. The silence that followed was heavy, oppressive, almost mocking in its anticlimax. But now that all of that had come to an end, The quiet of the jungle made itself known again. The cub that had pressed itself against Edwins neck whined as it stared at the center of the room. No trace of its kin left. Everything had happened so suddenly, There'd hardly been a moment to react. But perhaps what would be more concerning, would be that the noise he'd heard earlier from outside, seemed to have died down.

┍━☽【❖】☾━┑


Aedrianna gasped as the war steed reared high, its scream splitting the air. Hooves lashed out in a frenzy, forcing her to duck and roll just in time to avoid being crushed between its fury and the looming figure behind her—a broad-shouldered man with black hair and cold grey eyes.

The noise shattered the uneasy stillness outside the temple. Every head snapped toward her—the drab-faced men, the pink-haired woman with the glowing amulet.

Damn it.

The black-haired man pulled back a step, wary of the stallion’s thrashing hooves as they hammered against the earth. Dust and broken roots flew with each strike, the beast’s crimson eyes fixed on him with savage defiance. Then he spoke, voice sharp and carrying, directed not at her but at the pink-haired woman.

“The bait didn’t take. This one—” his gaze flicked to Aedrianna, sneering, “—and some man in armor tripped the switch before the male could find it. He’s in there with it. Go make sure he dies. I’ll bring this o—”

He never finished.

A blur of white and blue burst from the underbrush with a bone-jarring impact. The great beast slammed into him, driving him into the dirt. They rolled across the ground in a violent tangle of claws and limbs, the man’s shout lost beneath the beast’s roar.

The world erupted into chaos.

The drab men who had stood listless moments before suddenly charged, sprinting straight for Aedrianna. Mana swelled at her call, shadows pooling beneath her in five perfect points, forming the shape of a star. From that darkness rose five snarling wolves, their eyes glowing as they bounded forward, intercepting the oncoming men with snapping jaws.

Aedrianna didn’t wait to watch. She bolted toward the temple entrance, heart hammering with a single thought: Edwin.

But the pink-haired woman was faster. She lunged out of the shadows, colliding with Aedrianna in a tangle of limbs. They hit the ground, rolling violently, hands tangling in hair, nails raking at flesh. Aedrianna hissed, yanking hard until she finally shoved the woman off with a desperate heave. The stranger’s head cracked against the edge of a moss-slick stone, the sound sharp, and she crumpled to the side.

Aedrianna scrambled upright, breath heaving, a spell half-formed on her lips. But before she could cast, rough hands seized her arms. Two drab-faced men wrenched her back, dragging her away with mechanical strength. She kicked, thrashed, fury spitting from her lips—

A wolf struck.

One of her conjured beasts slammed into the men, its shadowy form burning their flesh where it touched. Their grip collapsed, skin sloughing away in smoking streaks. Aedrianna stumbled free, falling to her knees as they howled.

Her eyes snapped up just in time to see the white-blue beast roar in pain. The black-haired man—bloodied, mauled, but alive—drove a dagger deep into its chest, ripping downward with brutal strength. Blood gushed from the wound, splattering the ground as the beast staggered back. Its eyes flared brighter, wild and glowing, foam thick at its jaws.

It locked onto movement—one of the drab men, fleeing in terror from the last of her wolves. The beast shrieked and lunged, chasing him into the temple’s dark maw.

And then silence fell.

The cries of the dying men ceased. The roars of the beast vanished into the ruins. Even the stallion had gone still, its ears pinned back, nostrils flaring.

Aedrianna staggered to her feet, chest rising and falling in sharp breaths. The pink-haired woman was gone.

Her gaze lifted—and her blood ran cold.

The black-haired man was walking toward her. His movements were steady, unhurried, as though the gaping claw marks across his chest were of no consequence. Her wolves stepped forward in unison, a wall of snarling shadow between them, but her hand still rose, a single finger leveled. At its tip, mana curled, coalescing into a trembling wisp of starlight.

“Don’t come any closer.”

Her voice was steel, and for an instant, he froze. His hands lifted, palms open in mock surrender.

Then the amulet at his throat flared.

The twisted grin that spread across his lips was sharp, terrible, made worse by the blood already drying on his face.

“Go ahead,” he sneered, eyes gleaming with sick delight. “Shoot me down.”

┍━☽【❖】☾━┑

Present

When Edwin would eventually step out from the shadow of the temple, the ruin behind him still whispering with echoes of violence, he would find no reprieve waiting outside.

The clearing bore the look of carnage. Blood streaked the moss, smeared across broken stones and trampled earth, spattered in arcs that spoke of desperate struggle. Yet there were no bodies

Only two figures remained.

His war steed, sides heaving, crimson eyes still bright with adrenaline. And Aedrianna.

She stood just beyond the beast, her hair disheveled, streaked with dirt and damp from the jungle. Blood stained her lip and brow, though none of it seemed grave—marks of being thrown, struck, dragged. Her clothes were torn at the shoulder, dust and moss clinging to her travel coat. She looked as though she’d been through the thick of a brawl but had endured.

Her arm was raised, finger leveled toward the treeline. At its tip glimmered a pale orb of starlight, mana coalescing into form. She looked rigid, locked into the spell, her posture tense as if bracing for release.

But her eyes were wrong.

They were unfocused, distant. Not tracking, not seeing. Though her body remained ready, her gaze was cast somewhere far away, as if fixed on something that wasn’t there.

And indeed, there was nothing.

The jungle lay quiet before her finger. No enemy, Only shadows, foliage, and the oppressive stillness after violence.

Yet Aedrianna did not lower her hand. The starlight at her fingertip pulsed
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.
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!





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.

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.

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.




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.



┍━☽【❖】☾━┑




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,...
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.


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.
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