A pub in solitude, in the countryside of England, Victorian Era.

Days before his departure to Huffingham, a man sat in an empty pub, his head tilted, his eyes shut. It was a frigid night outside this ramshackle of a cottage turned pub; the pub owner knew this, and he made haste weaving in and around his establishment, tending the fire in the fire pit, and occasionally checking the sleeping man. Time seemed to come to a halt that night, and the pub owner was aware of this as well. He'd not wake the sleeping man, for who'd like to be awoken when in deep sleep. The pub owner sat, and waited, for a sound, for a movement, and with luck, a customer.

An hour has passed, and the pub owner was dozing off. He'd have no choice but to attempt to wake the sleeping man, but his conscious told him to get a bit of shut-eye. He'd just start to drift into sleep until he heard footsteps outside his establishment. By the half-light of a candle, dimmed and placed next to the entrance, he saw the door open, and eventually saw a man. The pub owner rose from his seat, and was exalted, radiating energy. Then another man came through the door, then a woman, then a group of men and women.

"Fine night isn't it!" The pub owner asked, his voice coarse from weariness.

The man who entered first turned his head towards the pub owner, then averted his eyes towards his group. "Yes, it would seem that it is a fine night."

The pub owner smiled, and wiped his dirt stained face, "May I take your coats?"
"No, you may not."

The pub owners eyes widened, "O-Oh.." He stuttered when alarmed, "Well then, c-can I offer you a drink?"
"No."

The pub owner arched his eyebrows, "Then, w-what can I help you with, sir?"
"A meal," the man said. His group crept closer, cracking their necks, and licking their teeth.

The pub owner backed away, "I'm n-not looking for trouble!"
"We are." It looked like the first man who entered was their leader, and he slid his finger across his throat.

The pub owner walked backwards, and tripped, his back on a wall. He shut his eyes, "God help me!"
"He wont help at a time like this." The pub owner opened his eyes, for this voice was right next to him. The sleeping man was awoken, and pettish too. The man yawned, and lifted his arm, pointing it at the leader. A flash came out of the mans sleeve, and it found the leader, now with a hole in his face. The leader's subordinates were ravished, rushing towards the awoken man, fangs clear as day. The awoken man grabbed one of the subordinates, pulled him, and placed his hand on it's face. The creature shrieked and struggled, while his team stood watching.

The pub owner stood up, and grabbed a stool for protection. He'd walk beside the awoken man, and hid. "I'm sorry I slept in your pub," The man said, the creature's head still in his grip.
"I don't think this is the time to be apologizing!"
"Oh right..."

The man released the creature, and it plopped down onto the floor, dead. The once fired up group stood lifeless, one of them screaming, "Who is he?!" The group dispersed outside, and ran away. The man settled down onto the chair he slept on, "I think you should leave this place."
"What were t-those... things?!" The pub owner questioned.
"Vampires."
"Those exist?!"
"Yes. So do werewolves, and demons, and vampire demons, and vampire werewolves, and werewolf demons, and... You get my point. They exist."
"I have nowhere to go?!"
"Well don't go to Huffingham."
"What in the bloody hell is Huffingham!?"
"A place where you shouldn't go."
"Well why?!"
"Watch your tone."
"Answer me!"

The man stood from the chair, and scanned for food. "Do you have food?"
"Answer my bloody question!"
"Answer mine first."
"No."
"Well... Damn."
"Well why the hell shouldn't I go to bloody Huffingham?! I don't have anywhere else to go! So why not this place called Huffingham."
"The supernatural are attracted to the quaint, little, town. That's why it's called blood town for Christ's sake."
"Then where should I go?"
"Odd."
"What's odd?"
"You."
"How so?"
"Because instead of talking about your life threatening experience with vampires, you talk about a place to stay."
"Is it really that odd? Seriously now, are you listening to yourself? A normal person would be worried about his or her establishment, rather than some bloody supernatural event."
"No they wouldn't. A normal person would either be dead, or in shock. None of which you are experiencing."

The pub owner sat down on the floor, "Honestly now. Where should I go?"
"You should come with me."
"Where?"
"Huffingham."
"No."
"But not Huffingham strait away, but you should come with me."
The pub owner shrugged, "Where then?"
"You are joining the Ruby Edict."
"What is that?"
"It's basically a Royal Monster Hunting group."
"Royal?"
"Yes, royal."
"How's the pay?"
"Good. Better than good actually."
The Pub owner widened his eyes,
"Royal. Me, a poor boy, becoming royal! Have thy God saved me? Maybe I'm going insane, maybe I'm not. I'm thinking on a whim here so dammit, I'll join."
"Just like that?"
"Yes."
"Do you know what you'll be doing?"
"Hunting the supernatural of course!"
"Quick question.. How long have you been aware of the monsters that creep through the night?"
"Why only the moment you mentioned it, sir!"
"And you are serious about joining?"
"Yes!"
"Well then, I'm leaving soon, so pack your belongings and hurry."

The pub owner went into his room and grabbed his coat, "I'm ready."
"That's it?"
"I have no belongings."
"Interesting..."
"So let's go?"
"How old are you?
"Nineteen."
"Your parents?"
"Both dead, I think. Or both alive, but what does it matter?"
"You realize you are heading down a dangerous path, young boy?"
"I do realize that, but I simply don't give a damn."
"Hmm.. Stark, I'll give you that."
"Before I embark on this... thing, with you. I still haven't got your name."
"Augustine. And you?"
"Samuel."
"Are you ready, Samuel?"
"More than ever."

The two leave the dilapidated cottage, and follow the road north, towards Ruby Castle.

Set in Victorian era England, in the quaint little town of Huffingham, appropriately named "Blood Town". Atrocities of life such as Vampires, Werewolves, and even Demons tend to be attracted to the small town, for reasons unknown. The townsfolk of Huffingham are not endangered, for they can hold their own against any monster. Even the fragile, old lady who sells flowers wears a rosary, and keeps a pouch full of silver bullets, and holy water nearby. Though as of 1 week ago, the attacks have been more frequent, and far too suspicious. Queen Victoria was informed, and too take no chances, she resurrected the idea of Royal Monster Hunters; they would be known as, "the Ruby Edict"

Interesting little tale. What sort of players you looking for, here?

Interested, guess I've got the same question as Em. Would players be hunters, monsters, or both? I'd fancy playing a demon myself.

Em_E_Dee said
Interesting little tale. What sort of players you looking for, here?

Here is a character sheet!

You are drawn here, as if you had seen it in a dream. You follow the dirt path through the black forest, halting at the cliff of fate. Here is where your new life begins, and you take it. You jump off the cliff into the dark abyss below, only to be greeted by a French dwarf named Belfort. You swim to Belfort's sail boat and he greets you with a snarl. "Bonjour. I've been waiting for a jumper for over 2 hours, and I have another. You are here for ze Ruby Edict, no?" You nod your head, and he begins to sail off into the distance. He takes you to Ruby Castle, a castle forgotten by history. Belfort points at the dock, "You go over there." He takes you to the dock, and insists for you to take a rose from his hands, "Monsieur Augustine hates the smell of roses." You walk to the castle doors, and you are stopped by a thin, pale man. He is dressed in a suit, and sports long white hair. He looks down at you, his glasses hanging by his long nose. "Great, another pawn," the man says, "God dammit Belfort, another rose? Anyway, I am Mr. Augustine, you will refer to me as Sir Augustine, nothing else. Augustine gives you a crumpled up piece of paper, "Your information, pawn."

Name:

Age:

Gender:

Species: (Human, Vampire, Werewolf)

Most experience killing: (Humans, Vampires, Werewolves, or 2 of your choice)

Skilled with: (What weapons? Guns, knives, or the holy bible.)

Appearance:

Backstory: (Reasons for joining the edict.)

After filling out the form, Augustine hands you a knife, "Sign in your blood." You cut your thumb and press it against the paper. If you are a vampire, you draw a cross on your hand. Augustine smiles, "Welcome to the Ruby Edict, pawn."

You can become part of the protagonists, or part of the antagonists.

I don't have a main antagonist yet, but if you would like, you can create one, or stick to being one of the good guys!

Name: Arella Rose Devane

Age: 23

Gender: Female

Species: Therian (Shape Stealer)

Most experience killing: Humans/Werewolves

Skilled with: Trained in the art of sword fighting by a desert tribe known as the Annasir. Weapon of choice is a scimitar (when in human form.) In various animal forms, claws, teeth, etc. are used.

Appearance: Arella is of decent height for a woman of her time, standing at about 5'6". She has a toned, curvaceous build and maintains a healthy weight and appearance. Her skin is of a creamy complexion. She has fiery auburn hair and emerald green eyes. One identifiable mark is a pair of scars running along her left temple. Formerly a Consult to a king, she is sometimes apt to wear her old finery, silks and gauzes of bright and lavish colors. Though, most of her finery was sold and traded for clothes better suited for the wilderness. She is not against wearing riding breeches and boots, as she spent much time masking her appearance and even her gender.

Backstory: Arella is the last of the Therians... at least, that's what her mother told her before she plummeted hundreds of feet onto the rocky shore beneath Leviathan Cliff. Seeking out a new home after theirs was over-run by darkness and taint, Arella ended up being the only one from her clan to make it to this new world. Having found herself in a strange land she had never before known, the young Therian was quick to learn that not everything was as it seemed. During a trek through a dark forest, she was struck with a poison arrow shot by an indigenous tribe of necromancers. Arella was saved from death by the young King of a nearby land. Upon disbanding the tribe, the King and his men took Arella back to their land. The king's young sister would not part with Arella, and soon the two became close friends. However, the princess became older and was forced into marriage to conjoin two kingdoms. Her husband seemed an amiable man, but it was his elder cousin that posed a threat. Hungry for the throne, the corrupt cousin had the true heir killed. The would-be queen learned of this plot, and she too suffered the price. But before her death, she sent a letter to her kingdom, a letter which Arella found years later, that told of the truth. Vowing vengeance, Arella wormed her way into the opposing kingdom and tricked the corrupt King into believing her a Seer who had come to aid him in all his conquests. She spent five years at the King's side, carefully planning his uprising. She and those who followed her usurped the king and the dark army he had been forming. She was responsible for the death of many, both human and non. Now that she has seen, for too long, the evil wiles of man, she no longer wishes to be around them. So, she has found the Edict, where she hopes that being around other creatures who seek to rid the world of darkness just as she does will give her a purpose once more.

Name: Creed, the Reaper

Age: 23

Gender:Female

Species: Human

Most experience killing: Humans and Vampires

Skilled with: Everything, and anything that is projectile, or can be thrown, or shot. She also uses knives, but isn’t as skilled with those as she is her marksmanship.

Appearance: Rather short, 5'6 to be exact. Her skin, the average tone of a caucasian. Creed’s body is thin, but ripped. Her hair, cut by herself with her knife, is black, and stops at her shoulders. Her eyes are brown, and quite large. She has a short, sharp nose, and semi red cheeks. Her jaw, wide, her chin, short, her lips, full. She wears a long, black coat, and brown, leather boots. She has a flintlock rifle around her back, covered by her coat. She wears a rosary around her wrist, and a cross engraved into her hand, and in her rifle. Her face, not spotless. She has a mole beneath her right eye, on the side, and a scar running down her right cheek, down through her mouth, stopping at her chin.

Backstory: She was born a whore's daughter, and raised in a brothel in underground London. Her mother, often bedded by other men, was very loving towards her daughter. She taught her to be a woman, not by the standards of society, but a strong woman who subjects to no one. She was educated through one of her mother's clients, who often left her books to read, and writing paper if she was in need. The brothel was found, and shut down, leaving the prostitutes without jobs; this occurred when she was the age of 12. Living on the streets, her mother found a man to take them in, only this man was an insolent pig, who drank his days away, and gambled the little money he had. The man would often beat the mother, and this went on for years. Eventually her mother snapped, and instead of getting revenge, she tried taking her own life, in which she was unsuccessful. The daughter was in rage. She took a knife, and an alcohol bottle. She went to the man, expecting alcohol, and smashed the bottle against his head. Amidst the rage, the daughter stabbed the man, 27 times in the chest. She left him there, and took her mother into the countryside. She stole a farmers rifle, and began practicing her marksmanship. She was a natural born marksman; within a few months, she was able to hit birds from the sky, and heads from long distances. She was now an assassin, and a good one too. She killed for her mother, dying from a sexually transmitted disease, to buy her medicine. When she died, she killed for herself, and she enjoyed it. She had a contract with one of the royal families in England, and she was assigned to kill a man and his wife. She still has her morals, and she won’t kill kids. So not being immoral, she asked why? And the head of the family said, “Because they killed my son.” So she accepted the job, and trekked into the woods to find the couples cabin. She went inside, and she saw the two. She shot them both in the head, or she thought. Both of them dodged the bullets, and the wife of the couple slashed her in the face. Such power, and speed. This was the first time she was truly terrified. If not for running outside in the sunlight, she surely would’ve been a meal. She went back to the head of the family, confronted him, and shot him in the face. She exited the house, and burned it. As the house burned, she thought, If the supernatural did exist, then that means Huffingham is no joke. She never wanted to feel that sense of hopelessness ever again, so she gathered what little she had, and looked for Vampires to kill, eventually leading her to find and join the Ruby Edict.

Is this still happening? I'm quite up for playing an antagonist in this. Possibly even one who turns and becomesan antihero later on.