Penny

Spells in the Dark (18+ for Dark and suggestive themes)

She dosen't really understand what is happening, but something about the exchange of intimacy contaminates the other person. It kind of seeps into their soul while all their guards are down. Given her course of study it is intriguing to her...

Spells in the Dark (18+ for Dark and suggestive themes)

Whoops yes my bad I thought I was in OOC but I went to the Character section to get some inspiration.

I'm thinking Adept for abilities as she is kind of star cursed.

Cassilda

Appearance:



Age: 33

Personality:

Cassilda is a vivacious woman who enjoys the pleasures of the world without letting them distract her from her ultimate goal of transcending it. She has a dark and grim humor when it suits her but can be cruel and callous when irked.

She is fascinated and fixated with death of all kinds, particularly random or unlooked for deaths. This trait is, understandably, not one which endears her to many people. Cassilda respects power in all its forms though ultimately only as an instruction for her own.

History:

Cassilda’s mother and twin sister died in child birth, her father overcome by the loss of his beloved wife, took his own life. The newborn girl lay among the dead for two days before a kindly traveler stumbled across the horrible scene, wraping the girl up in his cloak he nursed her back to health as best he could, though it might have been kinder to leave the child to perish from hunger or cold.

The early brush with death seemed to mark the child as weird and somehow unnatural. Her hair grew a strange shade and her playmates complained of dark and strange dreams after spending long periods of time with her. Strange and unexplained events began to take place around her.

When she reached the age of sixteen her fae and uncanny nature took an even more sinister turn. Her foster father, a wise scholarly man, recognized the witch for what she was and, loving the child despite all, wanted to send her away to study. Cassilda, then infatuated with a local boy and not wanting to be separated from him ran off with him. The pair were married by a defrocked priest and spent their wedding night in a bower in the forest. When Cassilda awoke in the morning her new groom was dead.

Fearing she would be blamed she fled her home and traveled the world as a wanderer. Falling in with a band of gypsies she learned some basic arcane lore and began to suspect something of what she was. The traveling folk welcomed her, respecting her skills and overlooking her odd and fearful aspect. These were happy times for Cassilda but when yet another lover died in her bed she was forced to flee the camp. Armed with the gypsy stories she made her way to Castle Bloodrose where her education truly began.

Working in a field that few touch by choice, Cassilda has been a steady but quiet fixture at the castle for the last decade. Her lair is deep in the castle amongst ancient crypts where she practices her dark arts. Despite what might seem like very good reasons to avoid her, many witches have sought her out over the years when they wish to converse with the spirits of the dead or for one reason or another, peer beyond the veil of life. Cassilda is happy to oblige, provided an appropriate bargain can be struck...
Special Power:

Death Magic - Borne under a cursed moon and thrice cursed with the blood of mother, father and child (her twin sister was the younger twin of the mitosis) Cassilda is blessed (?) with the rare gift of death magic. SHe can summon and bind the dead to her will and wield the entropic energies of death and decay.

Things they look for in a partner: Cassilda will work with anyone though she has an eerie fascination with people who have had brushes with death or labor under strange dooms. She covets power and seeks to subtly use all she encounters for her own designs.

Pets/Familiars:

Mckite the raven. This began as an attempt to call the raven Midnight, but ‘Mckite’ is as close as the bird was able to caw. She lives in the crypts with Cassilda though she is not infrequently scene flying from the castle on some errand better not thought about.

Adept

Spells in the Dark (18+ for Dark and suggestive themes)

Cassilda

Appearance:



Age: 33

Personality:

Cassilda is a vivacious woman who enjoys the pleasures of the world without letting them distract her from her ultimate goal of transcending it. She has a dark and grim humor when it suits her but can be cruel and callous when irked.

She is fascinated and fixated with death of all kinds, particularly random or unlooked for deaths. This trait is, understandably, not one which endears her to many people. Cassilda respects power in all its forms though ultimately only as an instruction for her own.

History:

Cassilda’s mother and twin sister died in child birth, her father overcome by the loss of his beloved wife, took his own life. The newborn girl lay among the dead for two days before a kindly traveler stumbled across the horrible scene, wraping the girl up in his cloak he nursed her back to health as best he could, though it might have been kinder to leave the child to perish from hunger or cold.

The early brush with death seemed to mark the child as weird and somehow unnatural. Her hair grew a strange shade and her playmates complained of dark and strange dreams after spending long periods of time with her. Strange and unexplained events began to take place around her.

When she reached the age of sixteen her fae and uncanny nature took an even more sinister turn. Her foster father, a wise scholarly man, recognized the witch for what she was and, loving the child despite all, wanted to send her away to study. Cassilda, then infatuated with a local boy and not wanting to be separated from him ran off with him. The pair were married by a defrocked priest and spent their wedding night in a bower in the forest. When Cassilda awoke in the morning her new groom was dead.

Fearing she would be blamed she fled her home and traveled the world as a wanderer. Falling in with a band of gypsies she learned some basic arcane lore and began to suspect something of what she was. The traveling folk welcomed her, respecting her skills and overlooking her odd and fearful aspect. These were happy times for Cassilda but when yet another lover died in her bed she was forced to flee the camp. Armed with the gypsy stories she made her way to Castle Bloodrose where her education truly began.

Working in a field that few touch by choice, Cassilda has been a steady but quiet fixture at the castle for the last decade. Her lair is deep in the castle amongst ancient crypts where she practices her dark arts. Despite what might seem like very good reasons to avoid her, many witches have sought her out over the years when they wish to converse with the spirits of the dead or for one reason or another, peer beyond the veil of life. Cassilda is happy to oblige, provided an appropriate bargain can be struck...
Special Power:

Death Magic - Borne under a cursed moon and thrice cursed with the blood of mother, father and child (her twin sister was the younger twin of the mitosis) Cassilda is blessed (?) with the rare gift of death magic. SHe can summon and bind the dead to her will and wield the entropic energies of death and decay.

Things they look for in a partner: Cassilda will work with anyone though she has an eerie fascination with people who have had brushes with death or labor under strange dooms. She covets power and seeks to subtly use all she encounters for her own designs.

Pets/Familiars:

Mckite the raven. This began as an attempt to call the raven Midnight, but ‘Mckite’ is as close as the bird was able to caw. She lives in the crypts with Cassilda though she is not infrequently scene flying from the castle on some errand better not thought about.

Adept

Spinwards to the Marches

Something wet and cold hit Kyra’s face startling her back to consciousness. To her surprise she was no longer in the prison. Instead she was in the back of what appeared to be a flatbed truck. Benches that were probably used to transport laborers ran along both side of the rear. The vehicle had an enclosed cab that looked like it would fit six or eight and though it wasn’t exactly armored, it was a heavy industrial vehicle, with shock resistant plasteel windows and a heavy construction. The oily reek of a diesel chemical motor tinged the air.

They were moving along a rutted road at about thirty kph, the suspension was bad enough that even at that modest speed every bump felt like she was being body slammed. Shackles encased her wrists and bound her to a metal support post between her legs. It wasn’t quite freezing but large blue gray snowflakes, a product of the higher than normal copper sulfate levels in Benson’s atmosphere, floated down with enough insistence that there was already a rind of bluish snow. The back of the truck contained three other men. Two of them were guards, not cops, but men in mining utilities dark grey garments with yellow reflective markings at the wrist and across the small of the back. Both carried heavy semi automatic rifles of a solid electromotive variety which Kyra thought was very unminer like.

The last man was something else, he was hunched in a coat that concealed his face, but his aura was stormforged as Mistress Lelamai would have said. Other later instructors, followers of a less spiritual but more practical path, would have counseled her to put two in the back of his head just to be sure. The strange man was also shackled to his bench in much the same way as she. The pallor of his skin looked awful and he smelled of vomit and strong liquor. Kyra tried to smile but the effort was too painful. Dried blood stained her face and an unknown amount of hair had been burned from the side of her face, it probably wasn’t the best moment to judge her appearance either.

They moved along the road at the plodding pace for a minute or two longer before the vehicle shifted into some sort of a dynamic drive and they began to speed up. Forests of trees, mostly colonized with greenish fungus, stretched out to either side, save where electrical lines or pipes had been passed on suspended stablizier towers. Benson was supposed to be more tectonically active than most habitable worlds and the risk of burying pipes risked a kink or a break that couldn’t easily be fixed.

“Well thanks for springing me from jail and all but you guys can let me off wherever,” she said trying to sound as casual as she could. One of the guards turned and glared at her.

“Keep your mouth shut bitch, we know about you two and your little investigation. I don’t mind shooting you both but then the boss’d be pissed he didn’t get a chance to find out everything you know first.”

Dark Streets - Urban Fantasy Noir

@Sophrus are you still with us?

Spells in the Dark (18+ for Dark and suggestive themes)

This is majorly cool sounding...

Grim Galaxy: Shots and Chances

Sayeeda nodded, imagining a younger Neil flitting about in a web of underworld conspiracies. It wasn't too difficult considering that was basically what he was doing now. Junebug didn't consider herself to be a criminal but it seemed that opinion was increasingly in opposition to the main body of thought on the topic.

"Well given how badly Saxon seems to want to kill you, I suspect you might still be leaving some of the good bits out," she commened, falling back on the plush bed and letting her shoulder length hair fan out behind her. It was longer now than it had been at any time since her first day of officer training, she really ought to cut it. The Rimbalian Ale was a pleasant warmth in her stomach and she felt as calm and relaxed as she had in a long time. That was a little scary when she let herself think about it. Plenty of soldier got so hooked on the violent part of their work that they could never really reenter normal society. If one of her troopers had been arrested for beating someone to a pulp in a bar it would have made her wonder if he had started down that path. The guy had been threatening her with a shock baton but it still wasn't a comfortable thought.

Neil had fallen silent and lain back on the bed so that their heads were upside down to each other. She wondered if he was thinking about Woods. It was hard to know with men what they might brush off and what they might take to heart. The air was pleasantly sultry and the buzz of the street outside was a dull roar. Junebug's hands hurt from the pounding she had given Xir, she wondered if it might not have been better to kill him. The next time they met he might just try shooting her in the back. A wolfish grin tugged at her lips. Well he might be thinking the same thing about her just now. A thought occurred to her and she realized that Neil certainly knew more about Saxon and Hexagalions than she did.

"Neil, do you have any idea why Saxon's throat keeps sort of flushing red?" she asked. Neil sat up so quickly that she half rolled out of the bed, her hand unconciously questing for a weapon, but there was no threat, Neil merely looked shocked. He cleared his throat several times before he managed to stammer.

"Ummm... well...look I'm not a xenobiologist but I'm pretty sure thats how they... you know... show they are interested."

"Interested in wha..." the words died in her throat and inspite of herself she felt a blush steal over her olive skin.

"Ah."

Grim Galaxy: Shots and Chances

“Neil,” Sayeeda said with a smile, “we both know that we are going to go treasure hunting.” She drained the remainder of the bottle in a single long pull and then tossed it onto the bed. It bounced once and came to rest. There was nothing else in the side board. She felt her face harden.

“And no we aren’t going to break the ship up,” she said flatly. The Highlander was all she owned in the universe. It represented a decade of mud and blood and death that she had waded through. Friends had died around her, many on her orders, others because she hadn’t been quite quick enough or quite good enough. Neil’s face had blanked and Sayeeda coughed in embarassment.

“Sorry I was thinking of something else,” she cleared her throat.

“Anyway I don’t remember much of what happened after I got blown up. Its uhh… less of a new experience than I would like.” That was unfortunately true, she had proably used more in discretionary medical spending than most people made in their entire lifetime.

“No what I meant was, you told me that you would fill me in on the backstory with you and Saxon and Sven,” she clarified. Her emotions seemed settled now.

“You obviously had dealings in the past, but we are going to need something to drink before you tell me.”

Spinwards to the Marches

The taste of blood was bright and coppery on Kyra’s lips. Part of her mind objected to this as out side of normal but it was rapidly replaced by another part of her mind that was screaming about having recently been hit with a shock baton. Something cold had been dashed in her face and she could hear people shouting and rattling bars around her. Shaking her head she realized that her wrists were bound above her head. It was nearly depressing that she could recognise the feel of standard issue Union handcuffs without actually seeing them. Benson wasn’t technically in Union space, or Imperial for that matter but hardware tended to flow from one or the other.

Her vision returned and she found herself looking at a pudgy man in early middle age. He was balding and had grown a patchy goatee by way of compensation which Kyra felt made him look a bit like a diseased egg. She recognized him as one of the prison flunkies she had seen on her way in. A shock baton waved in his hand and he was shouting something, his eyes wide with panic. That fact bought Kyra’s mind sharply into focus and she felt the first real prickle of fear since they had dragged her out of the cargo hold of Hogan’s Whore. Angry people were predictable but scared people might do anything. The deputy appeared to be shouting something and with a little effort she was able to make it out.

“I said are you a fucking witch?!” he shrieked, literal foam flecking the corners of his mouth.

“She used her mind powers on me,” another voice whined and she recognized the drunk that had identified himself as ‘old Jeb’ shortly before she had explained to him that she wasn’t interested in being groped or worse than groped because he felt like he was king shit in this half assed prison.

Kyra laughed, though the sound came out like a crackling wrasp. Suns she was dry and Suns she was sore but physical discomfort could be ignored if one had the right mindset.

“I’m not kidding, are you a fucking jayser? I’ve heard the stories. Can you read minds and do all that shit.” The prongs of the shock baton rose towards her face, electricity jumped between them in sharp unstable arcs.

“Yeah you caught me,” she croaked, wiggling her fingers in the cuffs above her head like a child pretending to work a spell.

“My evil plan to get arrested and thrown into prison is going perfectly,” she choked. Pain exploded across her face and she fell into blackness again, the smell of burning hair filling her nostrils.

Consciousness returned faster this time, although she wasn’t certain exactly how she knew it to be so. The pain was incredible. Muscles fired spasmodically, twitching her right cheek into a painful rictus that sent fresh daggers of agony into her brain. Something had evidently happened while she had been out. The deputy was looking between her and the dispatch desk, his eyes wide.

“What do you mean he isn’t answering! Get over there right now, go!” the deputy snarled. There was a clatter of boots and the distinctive sound of a shotgun slide being worked. The panic officer seized her by the hair yanking her head back.

“Is this your doing witch? You got backup out there?” He leaned close, close enough that she could smell the garlic on his breath. Kyra hummed a bar of Lillibullero soft enough that only she and the deputy could hear it. He leaned in closer.

“I confess,” she murmured.

“What?” the deputy asked his eyes widening. The moment of panicked realization rolled off him like a chill wind of an icy lake. It would never have worked if he hadn’t gotten this close.

“I can read minds and do all that shape changing shit.” There was a sudden popping surge of energy and the light strips dimmed for an instant. The deputy staggered back, his hand raising to the blood that was pouring from his nose. He gave her a last look, more shocked than angry, then his knees buckled and he fell into an awkward pile, his heart thudding for an instant and then stilling.

Lillibullero bullen a la

Kyra tasted blood again as her eyes rolled back, and for the third time in an hour, fell into unconsciousness.

Damned to the Depths

They slept in shifts but no further danger presented itself. In the morning they found the Weather Witch had gone but that wasn’t suprising, by midday they could see the sail on the horizon. Doubtless Sketti had been forced to cut the anchor cables rather than risk the storm so close to the rocks. They ate a breakfast of dried fruit and fish which Grimey produced by the simple expedient of throwing a glass bottle filled with gun powder into the harbor and collecting the stunned creatures the blast brought to the surface. For most of the morning Calliope had Sron and Grimey bring the Litch’s books and surviving alchemy equipment up from the cellar. It certainly made for more interesting reading than the dry histories of the previous day. From notes in the various spell books the story began to emerge.

Titus Kepperman, the fort’s mage, had come across a book buried in the archives, apparently dating back to the early days of the colonization. In the book was laid out spells that had been taken from the native shaman the explorers had met, spells for contacting the dead. With that power he had begun his own quest, at first to escape the boredom of a nowhere posting and then, as his powers grew, to try to obtain power for himself. Titus had been an old man at the start of his studies and he had feared that he would not have time to learn what he needed and so had redoubled his study of necromancy. The need for fresh corpses had been his first priority. A number of soldiers had been hung for possessing contraband that Titus had hidden in their quarters. Then one of the fishing smacks had apparently been ‘lost with all hands’. By the time he had resorted to outright murder, the forts commander had already been growing suspicious. Finally they had confronted Titus, at which point he had used his powers to summon the trolls and hunted his former comrades through the keep, picking them off one by one and using their bodies for his experiments. At last, alone on the island he had created his phylactery, cheating death and prolonging his studies indefinitely. Calliope reminded herself that though the books contained knowledge that she could use, she should also be cautious lest she find the same snares set for her.

Markus, Grimey and Sron set to work shifting the cannons, lowering each of the long iron guns down from the battlements to where Calliope could untie them against the moment the Witch returned. Owing to the contrary wind, it was nearly nightfall by the time the Weather Witch slid up against the quay and the ropes were cast off to secure her. Sketti stomped ashore looking no worse the wear for having spent the past twelve hours battling the stormy sea.

“Ahoy capt’n,” he called before turning to the crew.

“Get those guns aboard you lice ridden curs!” he snapped to the crew before heading over to Markus and Calliope.

“Glad to see ya had no trouble,” the dwarf grumbled.