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Murk & Marks

Every city had its stories. It was no different in Adropolis, a thriving city with its noble district of fine houses and well-manicured lawns; its markets where hawkers competed for the attention of those passing by; its cultural centers and the drug dens tucked away amidst the flow of wine and words. The stories of the city were the stories of its people: triumphant and tragic alike.

Some stories that predated the city had taken root there and flourished even as the city grew. A number settled around an old library in one of the poor districts, once a cultural center, now only a few steps better than a slum. The city never quite seemed to get around to tearing the building down, though it dated back at least a hundred years. Nearly all of the tall stained-glass windows were still intact, the patterns primarily geometric rather than the religious scenes that adorned the cathedrals. Gargoyles served as the rainspouts, most crumbled, with various carved stone panels decorating the upper portion of the building. It was a mix of Romanesque and Gothic architecture, a handsome building despite the obvious wear and lengthy period of disuse.

Or perhaps not disused, for the building's stories said that it had not been merely a library but also the favored haunt of one of the city's oldest legends. That the building's wards still stood strong lent truth to the tales, though whether the fact supported the power of the ancient mages or the tale of the library's attendant spectre was anyone's guess.

It wasn’t clear why she liked the library, though supposedly she had a fondness for stories herself. A few legends told of some lucky fellow getting to keep his life after telling the woman a tale she had never heard, or regaling her with one long enough to last until the break of day. Others claimed that she would do favors in exchange not for souls alone, but instead for memories, either of certain events or of an entire life, taken with the soul at the moment of death. What she did with them was anyone’s guess.

Of course it was hardly accurate, but like all tales there was a basis in truth. Those that knew of her called her Silver, and none crossed her lightly. She was fiercely territorial, keeping her city clear of the worst monsters. And for most of the city's history, that had been enough. The occasional human lost was just the result of the foolhardy crossing what was best left alone. At least that had been the case until a year or so prior, when a sudden rash of heartless corpses had stirred up new fear and new stories.

Now Silver was a demon, or perhaps some sort of fey, spoken of as an eater of souls that only fools hoped to encounter. Seeing her in passing was ill luck; meeting her gaze was said to invite death. She accosted random people on the streets at night and tore through their minds and souls, leaving spiritual scars that would take a long time to heal. Something had to be done.

The day the hunter came, the library was quiet. Inside the library, the afternoon sun cast long shadows between the stacks and illuminated dancing motes of dust, though the stone floor was surprisingly free of it. To one side a staircase spiraled down into darkness, and to the other side stood an area of tables and chairs for study. Some of the shelves were empty but many contained books, mostly leather bound. The high ceiling made it feel spacious, even with the tall shelves looming overhead. There was no sign of Silver, though that hardly meant she wasn't around. The building had a watchful feel to it, as if it itself knew there was an intruder -- or perhaps that was Silver watching, waiting for the right moment to show herself.

Murk & Marks

Designation: Silver
Gender: female
Age: unknown
Type: shadow spirit (?)

Appearance: A human woman, about 5'6 with short brown hair and silver eyes. Generally clothed in black. When not in her human guise, her teeth are sharper than strictly human and her nails lengthen into claws.

Powers:
Superhuman strenth
Shadow manipulation and dark fog, used to attack and obscure
Short range teleportation through deep shadows
Energy drain

Known facts:
~Silver has been bound in the past, and carrys frayed marks of previous bindings in her spiritual makeup, interfering with binding attempts.
~An abandoned library seems to be a base of power, and her territory centers around it.
~She keeps the area clear of most monsters.
~Does not seem to need hearts to survive; thought to take and eat them as a power move

Rumors:
~Silver eats souls as well as hearts.
~Likes stories
~Will do favors in exchange for souls and sometimes stories, but only the most desperate will seek her out as she is capricious and as likely to kill the person as to help them
~Something in the library keeps her death from being permanent, and she returns after days or months, depending on injuries done her.
~Children in desperate need will be saved by a woman with silver eyes.

Recent Issues:
~Rash of deaths with hearts missing, going back most of a year
~Recent spate of people who claim to be confronted by a silver eyed woman that tears something from their minds before leaving them unconscious where they lie.

Murk & Marks

Typical and shylarah

The Witcher: Under the Shadow

@POOHEAD189 I don't think I'm up to that level yet, alas. I need to get myself back in gear. Good luck!

The Witcher: Under the Shadow

I am interested, but I only have partial net right now (in other words, some days I am without internet entirely). I also have been six months away from writing and as a result am extremely out of practice.

Can I get an idea of posting schedule and desired length of post?

A Wizards Tale: Curse of the Shadow (Looking for M or F)

Have a free bump. I wish I had internet more often than one night a week or I'd totally jump on this. <3

The Last Embers (Dark Steampunk/Fantasy)

It felt like there were reporters everywhere. Ziotea and Rodion had ditched the ballroom as soon as they could get away with doing so, and still the press hounded them. They were mostly focused on Rodion, asking where Madrys was, what he was working on now, and a hundred other questions. At first the young man tried to answer them, but there were so many. His tone never changed, but his chest grew tight. He didn't want to be talking. Couldn't they just leave him alone?

At his side Ziotea glowered at the various people that intruded on their personal space, like scavengers crowding around a fresh corpse. The way they acted was similar, like they all wanted a piece of Rodion for themselves. She tried to ignore it -- this was T'sarae, after all. Rodion was a genius engineer; it made sense that they'd want to know more about him. Her dislike of the press had no bearing if he wanted to talk to them, and for a time it seemed like he didn't mind. So Ziotea kept her breathing steady, her grip on her spear merely firm instead of tight, and tried to think of other things. She watched Rodion, saw the slow creep of tension into his stance, heard the stress that edged his voice. Should she step in?

She had just decided that enough was enough when Rodion felt for her free hand and tugged gently at her index finger. The old signal meant that they should get out of there, that it wasn't safe. Ziotea couldn't have agreed more. She stepped in front of her companion, gently pushing him behind her. She wasn't so gentle with the reporter that tried to shove forward after Rodion, pulling her hand free and planting it on his chest. It took no effort at all to knock the man off-balance. The questions turned to focus on her, but she barely heard them. Instead of addressing any of them individually, she released a gentle burst of force, enough to stagger all the reporters back.

"Enough!" she snapped, eyes flashing. Silence fell in their part of the garden, and Ziotea felt the uncertainty of those she faced. The fear. Even here they'd heard some of the stories, it seemed. Whatever. She'd use what she had. "Get the hell out of our faces before I make you."

The reporters scattered like blown papers, even the boldest deciding they'd rather be elsewhere when Ziotea fixed them with a cold glare. Once they'd gone, she breathed a sigh of relief, and turned to Rodion. He was smiling down at her, blue eyes warm, and a little thrill ran through her. "There. That's taken care of." She returned his smile, taking his hand again and squeezing it. I am here. They stayed like that for a long moment before Ziotea felt her cheeks growing warm and sought something to say. "Would you like to dance, Rodion?" she asked. He nodded, and she set her spear aside, then stepped close. They didn't do anything fancy, just a simple sidestep back and forth, but it was still wonderful.

Drawing Characters!

@Mae So shiny

Don't Fear the Reaper (shy and Malice)

@Malice I'm trying to write a reply, but the words just aren't coming. I've got a tiny paragraph so far. -.-