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Hey there! Welcome to the site! I love to write my self.

One of the reasons I enjoy replay so much is that it's really fun to get to bounce off your partners creativity. I'm a big fan of medieval fantasy my self. I'm actually part of a group that has an original setting. Where you make your character and start their story the way you want to.

If you're interested shoot me a message!
This RP Takes place in the world of Isekai Hell. If you want to Rp with us, just message me! Check out our interest check! roleplayerguild.com/topics/196759-ise…)


┏━✦❘༻ 𝕮𝖆𝖓𝖙𝖆𝖈𝖑𝖊 𝖔𝖋 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖀𝖓𝖘𝖊𝖊𝖓 ༺❘✦━━┓




The storm rolled in heavy over Arborhaven, cloaking the city in rain and restless wind. Lanternlight flickered along crooked streets, their glow fractured across puddles that gathered between cobblestones. Shutters banged in the gale, and the night smelled of damp earth, smoke, and the faint sweetness drifting from the square where the new tree grew.

The Starbloom Cypress stood there—no sapling, though still slight compared to the memory of Aegrizora. Its silver bark gleamed slick with rain, its crown trembling in the storm. Folk whispered as they passed it, some muttering prayers, others refusing even to look. The tree had taken root quickly, and some claimed it drew breath from both the world of the living and the dead.

Nailed to posts and walls throughout the square, parchment sheets flapped and tore in the wind. Missing Persons—faces rendered in charcoal, names fading as the ink bled in the rain. Too many to ignore, yet too many overlooked. A farmer’s boy. A shepherd girl. A traveler last seen on the southern road.

Beneath the sagging canopy of the tavern, a man sat with a lute in his lap, his patched cloak more color than cloth, his boots muddied by the road. His hair, sandy and streaked with gray, clung damp to his brow, and his eyes—gray-blue like stormlight—watched the strings as his fingers danced.

His voice rose against the storm, carrying verses that turned heads and stilled hands:

"We are not forged of ash and stone,
Nor bound by blood nor flesh alone.
Fashioned in likeness of what none may see,
We are the shadow of divinity.

Our wills are free, unchained, untamed,
No silent slaughter shall lay us claimed.
So lift thy voices, let anthems swell—
We are the unseen, unquenchable."


The song echoed down the empty streets, mingling with thunder. No villagers lingered in the rain to hear it, no audience save the storm and the tree that seemed to watch in silence.

Yet the posters told their own tale, and the guild’s hand had been seen in Arborhaven of late. It was said that adventurers had been dispatched to look into the vanishings. But no answers had been found as of yet.




Ooc: You can think of any old reason to show up. But if you need one, just say the character is here to investigate the missing persons for the guild.
(This roleplay takes place in the world of Isekai Hell. If you'd like to join, message either me or Novama to make a character and get started! We're always accepting.)


┏━✦❘༻ 𝕮𝖆𝖓𝖙𝖆𝖈𝖑𝖊 𝖔𝖋 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖀𝖓𝖘𝖊𝖊𝖓 ༺❘✦━━┓




The storm rolled in heavy over Arborhaven, cloaking the city in rain and restless wind. Lanternlight flickered along crooked streets, their glow fractured across puddles that gathered between cobblestones. Shutters banged in the gale, and the night smelled of damp earth, smoke, and the faint sweetness drifting from the square where the new tree grew.

The Starbloom Cypress stood there—no sapling, though still slight compared to the memory of Aegrizora. Its silver bark gleamed slick with rain, its crown trembling in the storm. Folk whispered as they passed it, some muttering prayers, others refusing even to look. The tree had taken root quickly, and some claimed it drew breath from both the world of the living and the dead.

Nailed to posts and walls throughout the square, parchment sheets flapped and tore in the wind. Missing Persons—faces rendered in charcoal, names fading as the ink bled in the rain. Too many to ignore, yet too many overlooked. A farmer’s boy. A shepherd girl. A traveler last seen on the southern road.

Beneath the sagging canopy of the tavern, a man sat with a lute in his lap, his patched cloak more color than cloth, his boots muddied by the road. His hair, sandy and streaked with gray, clung damp to his brow, and his eyes—gray-blue like stormlight—watched the strings as his fingers danced.

His voice rose against the storm, carrying verses that turned heads and stilled hands:

"We are not forged of ash and stone,
Nor bound by blood nor flesh alone.
Fashioned in likeness of what none may see,
We are the shadow of divinity.

Our wills are free, unchained, untamed,
No silent slaughter shall lay us claimed.
So lift thy voices, let anthems swell—
We are the unseen, unquenchable."


The song echoed down the empty streets, mingling with thunder. No villagers lingered in the rain to hear it, no audience save the storm and the tree that seemed to watch in silence.

Yet the posters told their own tale, and the guild’s hand had been seen in Arborhaven of late. It was said that adventurers had been dispatched to look into the vanishings. But no answers had been found as of yet.




Ooc: You can think of any old reason to show up. But if you need one, just say the character is here to investigate the missing persons for the guild.
Welcome!

You can't escape the itch when it comes for you. Lol,

I've played a bit of table top games off and on my self. Recently the group I've been roleplaying with uses a system similar to those. If you're interested in a medieval fantasy original group setting shoot me a message.
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𝕊𝕂𝕀𝕃𝕃 𝕊𝕐𝕊𝕋𝔼𝕄 𝕆𝕍𝔼ℝ𝕍𝕀𝔼𝕎
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┏━✦❘༻༺❘✦━━┓


𝕀𝕟𝕥𝕣𝕠𝕕𝕦𝕔𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟


Skills are pivotal in growing and customizing your character. While your stats may make it clear who is a tank, mage, or rogue type, your skills allow you to differentiate yourself from others with the same stats.

Skills also shape your character visually — some even unlock racial titles. Perhaps most important in any Isekai is the ability for the protagonist to transcend typical limits and bring change to the world. Skills are what allow a character to break beyond ordinary boundaries.

Below is a list of Skills your character may acquire and upgrade. If your concept cannot be achieved with the current skill set, please reach out to Novama or RP staff. Sometimes we add new skills to the list, other times we help outline a build path to fit your ideal.

Note: The system is subject to mistakes, exploits, and misinterpretation. Updates/edits will occur over time as it evolves with community use. We will inform you of any changes.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

ℍ𝕠𝕨 𝕥𝕠 ℝ𝕖𝕒𝕕 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕊𝕜𝕚𝕝𝕝 𝕃𝕚𝕤𝕥


  • Each skill shows its starting grade when purchased.
  • Acquisition requirements are listed (usually a stat grade).
  • Point cost is shown in parentheses and applies both to acquisition and upgrades.
  • If a stat/skill is required, it must also be upgraded whenever the chosen skill is upgraded.
  • Some skills are tagged [ability!] — these grant unique actions on their own.
  • Most skills/abilities come with restrictions: no spam use, cooldowns, and other caveats.
  • Skill descriptions explain scope and narrative uses. If unclear, ask Novama.


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𝕊𝕜𝕚𝕝𝕝𝕤 𝕃𝕚𝕤𝕥 & 𝕋𝕒𝕘𝕤
All skill prices are in parentheses next to the skill name. Each skill has one or more tags based on function:


  • Ability! — Stand-alone feature
  • Acquisition! — Acquire items/assets
  • Augmenter! — Improves [Magic] functionality
  • Auxiliary! — Supplements natural ability
  • Buff! — Raises stats or provides boons
  • Character! — Requires certain character grade
  • Core! — Prerequisite to other skills
  • Debuff! — Decreases stats/impairs target
  • Defensive! — Improves resistance/defenses
  • Domestic! — Mundane/practical skills for daily life
  • Exclusive! — Only acquirable as racial perk
  • Growth! — Helps gain knowledge/extra points
  • Healing! — Restores vitality
  • Intelligence! — Requires Intelligence stat grade
  • Narrator! — Controlled/adjudicated by Narrator
  • NPC! — Defines companions/minions
  • Offensive! — Damages/negatively impacts target
  • Passive! — Always active, even unconscious
  • Precision! — Requires Precision stat grade
  • Social! — Prowess in conversation & influence
  • Speed! — Requires Speed stat grade
  • Stealth! — Avoid detection
  • Strength! — Requires Strength stat grade
  • Suite! — Bundle of multiple skills
  • Utility! — Wide use, offensive or defensive
  • Vitality! — Requires Vitality stat grade


━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

ℙ𝕠𝕚𝕟𝕥 ℂ𝕠𝕤𝕥 ℙ𝕣𝕠𝕘𝕣𝕖𝕤𝕤𝕚𝕠𝕟

Skill point costs scale by sevens:

  • A 7-point skill costs 7 more per grade upgrade.
  • A 14-point skill costs 14 per upgrade.
  • A 21-point skill costs 21 per upgrade.
  • And so on, following the same progression.




Hey there ! I feel your pain. Life long dream has been to be an author, but I just don't have the confidence to keep a decent story from beginning to end. It's why I love Role play so much. You get to bounce off other peoples ideas and keep a flow going.

I personally started my roleplaying days on mmorpgs! (Well actually some of it was Neopets too hehe) I'm a big fan of video games. And Don't even get me started on Romance. (I'm actually kind of playing match maker in my group role play right now. Got a couple single male characters we need to find ladies for.)

If you'd be interested in a roleplay group/world where the trope is Characters being summoned to a whole new world. Where there's Skills and stats. (Isekai If you're familiar with that) Message me! We're always open for new folk! Medeiaval fantasy with a splash of magitech/Steampunk



The cold of the mask lingered on Evie’s fingertips even after it dissolved, like rain clinging where there was no storm. The moment the mist thickened and the stone shifted, her chest tightened, a memory she hadn’t invited clawing its way forward.

She was back in that office. The stale coffee smell. The stack of manila folders. The officer’s mouth moving before the words truly landed.

"His body was never recovered. Landslide buried the site before we could finish retrieval. We… we’re listing him MIA. Presumed KIA."

She’d sat there, jaw locked, fingernails biting into her palm until the skin broke. Words buzzed like flies against glass. Never recovered. Presumed dead.

The sound of Roscoe’s whine cut through it, sharp and real, grounding her for half a second. But the whispering reflections in the water twisted Marcus’s face into every ripple—accusing, fading, gone.

Evie swallowed hard, knees buckling under the weight until one touched the water. Her free hand clutched the grip of her bat so tight the old tape cut into her skin.

“No…” she rasped, shaking her head, eyes burning but dry. “Not again. You don’t get to take him from me twice.”

Her gaze locked on the mage through the haze, jaw tight, breathing ragged but steadying with every word.

Roscoe pressed closer, shoulder to her side, mismatched eyes blazing as he let out a guttural growl. The weight of him, warm and solid, steadied her.

Evie pushed herself upright, shoulders squared against the pull of the thickened water. She forced a breath past the stone in her throat, lifted her bat, and planted her boots.

“I know what sorrow feels like. I live with it. But it doesn’t own me. And it damn sure won’t stop me here.”

She flicked her eyes toward Yumi, and Locke, catching his visor’s faint reflection in the mist. "Deep breaths guys. Don't get caught up in the mire."
Then she looked back to the mage, muscles taut, bat steady at her side.

"Listen! We aren't here to splash in your kiddy pool. Where's your boss?"

┍━☽【❖】☾━┑






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
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