Welcome to my very ill advised attempt to run an Urban Fantasy game. You should be thinking along the lines of the Dresden files, Supernatural, Vampire the Masquerade, with a touch of The Wire and True Detective. This is a Noir Rp, if you ask yourself if you need to be more Noir, then you obviously haven't gone noir enough!
This will be a story about survival against the odds and against powers
Alot of the detail will be workshoped in the RP but the characters will all be members of the extended magical community in a major US city Detroit Michigan. Magical influences are always clandestine, preferring to pull the strings from the shadows. The cops may be working for vampires, but they probably dont know it. This dosen't mean you have to be a magical creature, you can be a mundane who through skill or training or bad luck is pulled into the underworld and knows the real score. If you are a magical creature you are probably low powered and you are on the outs with your own faction for some reason or another. You also have a way of blending in with the normals, it could be a glamour, it could be a baseball hat.
Some ideas: Wizard, Vampire, Werewolf, Fae, Hunter, Oracle, ect.
I will be accepting four players total. Period. End of story.
You will be expected to provide significant input to the plot and the setting. You will also be expected to have friends, allies and enemies who will be caught in the crossfire. Lone super hero orphans who sprang from the ground fully formed and ready to fight evil need not apply.
Please post character pitches in the OOC section. Once they are approved they will be moved to the Characters section.
Name: Character Concept: Trouble: Scene:
Example:
Not a real character
Name: Alexandria Flores Character Concept: Drug dealing wizard Trouble: My pockets are stuffed with my fathers blood stained money Scene: A short scene which lets me know who your character is.
Characters will be accepted based on merit, not first come first serve.
Players will be responsible for a considerable amount of the world, starting with the immediate lore regarding your character. How do vampires work? That is up to the vampire player to decide. What are wizard politics like? Ask the wizard pc.
Always feel free to push the plot forward or to add depth and color the city. If you push too far, I will ask you to rewrite a portion of your post.
Some basic tenents to keep in mind:
Yes and - This is an improv technique, never shut down something another player sets up in the narrative. This dosen't apply universally but it is a pretty good starting point.
Dramatic Tension and Spotlight - If a scene is built up, a dramatic stand off, a battle with a demon ect, don't unilaterally end the scene, give everyone a chance to contribute and write into the scene. If you think you have the ending in mind, feel free to check with me and we will work on it.
Name: Vera Crossley Character Concept: A young vampire with ties to organized crime. Before her embrace, Vera was a police officer with the ______ Police Department. Trouble: Vera is resented by her sire. Worse still, she has been exiled from her coven, a veritable death sentence for most fledgling vampires. Scene:
"Well, what do you have do say for yourself, my dear childe?"
Fear surged through Vera at the sound of the familiar feminine voice. In that moment, she wanted nothing more than to follow the sensual tones that drifted to her from across the room straight into the crypt. It made her want to die, to feel the ecstasy of her embrace again, to suffer. She felt so weak, so powerless, and it made her afraid. She was naked without her gun. They'd taken it from her, of course. Not that it would have mattered. She couldn't hurt Teresa. No matter how much she she wanted to. No matter how much she tried. She was bound by her blood, and it filled her with bitterness. Vera drew a slow breath, an old habit from life that she couldn't quite shake. She looked up from the marble floor, and flashed her teeth in a defiant smile that was full of anger, years of rage only barely contained, "I'm not sorry."
"Of course not, Vera," Teresa purred, stepping into the light. Despite her best efforts, Vera could feel her jaw slacken with awe as she gazed at her sire. She was so beautiful. Hair the color of midnight fell past her shoulders. An evening gown in crimson silk, that fit just so, accented an inhumanly perfect figure. Slender arms were hidden beneath a web of black lace, and her reddish brown skin was flush with color, as if she was still alive. Teresa's cherry colored lips pursed into a wicked smile. That same smile that had broken Vera, cursed her, and lit a fire deep inside of her that had almost consumed her."You have always been my most disobedient servant."
"You went too far. You asked for too much. You knew. You always knew," Vera said with a rising desperation in her voice. "You knew I wouldn't do it."
"No, I simply hoped that you had finally understood what you are, what we are," Teresa softly replied, her "I believed in you. I gave you a chance, and you disappointed me."
"You made me what I am."
"I did, yes. A pity you that you could not recognize the wonderful gift that I gave you. I saved you from your humanity."
"I- I tried," Vera stammered, her voice finally breaking. The brilliant seas of emerald she faced, drowned her in memories and desire. They tore at the faint echoes that remained of Vera's soul, and filled her with dread. "You gave me no choice. I couldn't–"
"Oh, Vera, you always had a choice," Teresa interrupted, slipping closer. Vera could feel her nervous system screaming. A predator, a true monster, stood ever closer to her, just out of arms reach. Vera willed her body to move, but it wouldn't listen.
"I'm not a monster, I'm not like you," Vera managed to snarl, fighting the spell that had enthralled her.
"Oh, but you are, Vera. You have killed, you have fed, and you have bled for me," Teresa said bridging the gap between them. Removing a glove, she softly stroked the side of Vera's face. She spoke slowly, sensuously, and each lovely syllable that escaped from her generous mouth pulled painfully at the strings of Vera's unmoving heart. Lost in her sire's eyes, Vera shivered with unwelcome pleasure. There was power in those ancient eyes, so much power, and Vera could feel the hatred that she had nursed so carefully fade from her thoughts. The love that Vera felt for the elder vampire was overwhelming.
"Teresa, please," Vera begged.
"If only you had listened, if only you had learned," Teresa sadly whispered, placing a finger over her lips. "You were so close to perfection. So close. I only wanted you to live. To forget that silly code of honor that weakens you, cheapens you, and binds you to these pitiful mortals."
"Just kill me. You've won. Make it stop," Vera sobbed wearily. She couldn't take it. Not anymore. It was too much. She couldn't fight the compulsion of the blood that moved within her, the blood that had turned her. She felt as if something inside of her, something terribly human, would break and shatter into a thousand pieces.
"No, no, my dear, sweet Vera. That would be so terribly boring, so predictable," Teresa said with a wicked smile. "Your dream, your nightmare must continue."
"Teresa-
"Worry not, childe, you won't last long on your own. Not in this city. Not with the enemies you have made. Not without my protection," Teresa teased, laughing sweetly. She moved impossibly close to Vera, drawing painfully near, her body pressing against the young vampire's body. Her cool breath brushing against Vera's shaking lips, "When the Final Death takes you, think of me, and remember that you chose your fate."
Teresa brushed her lips faintly against Vera's lips, pulling back with a cruel grin as an involuntary, desperate whimper escaped from her captive. Vera could only watch as Teresa turned, and walked away from her.
"Teresa, wait, don't leave-" Vera pleaded, pain, unbearable pain coursing through her body.
Teresa did not stop, and faded into the shadows. Her fading voice a final torment, "I will miss you my dear police girl."
"No! You can't do this to me!" Vera shouted. Her body ignored her. Her will was shattered. Tears threatened as she tried to move. She had to stop her. She had to pursue her sire. How could she live without her? Before she could follow, an impossibly large set of hands grabbed her, hefted her off her feet, and slammed her mercilessly against the closet wall. Gasping for air, Vera struggled, and flailed desperately with her limbs, trying for any purchase, any strike that might wound. Blows that should have shattered bones, met only with unwavering resistance, as if she had struck a mountain, and not a man.
"Do that again, Vera, and I'll keep your head," the unseen figure rumbled, grabbing a hold of the back of her head, and violently smashing Vera's face against the unforgiving bricks.
"Fuck you, Anton," Vera spat back. Her retinas were alight with brilliant arcs of fire, and she could barely hear the thundering voice of the Russian over the ringing that echoed in her ears. Not that it mattered. Not ever. She wasn't going to listen. Not to him. Not to Anton. Not to Teresa's inhuman butcher. She wouldn't surrender. She wouldn't give him that satisfaction.
There was no warning when he threw her to the ground, delivering a kick that sent her skidding against the door with a dull thump. Groaning loudly, Vera tried to breath. Anton raised the young vampire unceremoniously to her feet by the collar of her jacket with an uninterested frown. "Enough. No more games."
"Fine," Vera seethed. She knew she had no chance against Anton. She had seen what the gigantic vampire could do. She wasn't ready to die again. Not yet. Not like that.
Anton nodded and the heavy metal door opened behind her. Vera felt a rush of cold air as he tossed her out into the darkened alley. The door slammed shut and she swallowed blood and the wave of nausea that threatened to overwhelm her. She wasn't hurt, not badly. She'd recover soon enough. She just needed to find shelter, she needed to move. She needed to move before they found her.
Crawling to her knees, Vera slammed a fist against the metal, "Anton, you bastard! I know you're still there! My gun, give me my gun. It's the least you can do. For old time's sake."
Vera heard the locks turning, managing to fall pathetically to the side as the door opened.
"For old time's sake," Anton grunted, tossing her pistol.
All steel and lovely, the pistol clattered impotently across the pavement, landing next to Vera. The door slammed shut, and Vera sat up unsteadily. With shaky hands, she grabbed her pistol, and in a single, fluid motion, she ejected the magazine and cleared the chamber. Emptying the magazine in her lap, she carefully counted the bullets. A mad laugh escaped her throat. Nine rounds. Anton had left her only nine rounds. Nine rounds of nine by nineteen millimeter Parabellum. It wouldn't last for very long.
Tucking the pistol against the small of her back, Vera buried her head in her arms and wept. Tears of crimson, the only tears left to her monstrous kind streaked down her cheeks, falling slowly onto the cold pavement.
She was alone.
Summary: A police woman, turned vampire, turned vampire mobster, turned independent contractor in desperate need of friends.
Trouble: Wanted by the Fae court for absconding from a royal marriage to the river daughter. That, and for stealing a glorious jewel from the Sidhe. Also wanted for various petty crimes (thieving and the like) in his human guise, though mostly in Europe. Why limit yourself?
Scene: A clear stream cascading down a rocky decline as the birds sing from above, and the sky opens to reveal a midsummer sun, revealing a vast sea of green, the highlands peaking out as waves. That was all Delilah could conjure in her mind to describe the melody played by the dashing stranger's flute. Once he was done, he opened his eyes and twirled the instrument within his nimble fingers, and the flute was gone as if it had never been. A sleight of hand, surely. "What's your name?" She asked, her pupils enlarged. He took her hand in his, looking positively smug. The pub residents had all halted their conversations to pay attention to the flute playing, but once he was finished, the conversations rushed back in like a crashing wave of water. Caber took a drink from the generous pint he'd ordered. "Ah, a loaded question, some might say." he said, almost sounding bored. Perhaps not a loaded question to some, but Caber had been known by many names, and had seen many things change in his lifetime. The land he had been born had been called Gaul, by the Romans, and that turned into Gaullia, into Francia, and then France. "Caber, they call me." He said. "And yours?" She told him almost too quickly, her eyes caressing his jawline and the waves of his hair, only to follow his hand as he lifted up his mug once more. He was so young! Yet she was utterly attracted. "I love your music," she continued, her finger now idly twirling her hair. "Can you believe some believed me a God for how I played the flute?" She took it as a mere boast, giggling at what she perceived as an attempt at humor. He laughed with her as his mind wandered back into that ancient past, when he had ran wild and plagued the forests of old Gaul and Germania, until Caesar and his legions with swords of blasted iron came. The blasted Roman had gotten what he'd deserved at the senate, if only Caber could have been there to see him fall. Caber recalled the consular pursuing him even across the English channel into the British Isles. But ever northward had he traveled, and he found centuries of fun with the picts and the celts of Ireland. That is, until the Norse arrived, quaking with war and seeking vengeance with the power of their Gods of Asgard, using swords of dreaded steel. With an effort, Caber calmed himself. He had done much better these days with keeping his faerie side from taking over, and once he opened his pools of blue, he found he should enjoy the catch he had made tonight. He drew in closer for a kiss. "Hey, pal." A rough voice tried to tear his attention away from the lass, but Caber had decided he would like to continue gazing at her for a moment. The voice spoke again. "Hey, that's my woman there." The voice held a warning in it. "Is it?" Caber asked aloud, unconcerned or simply unaware of the danger the interloper promised to present. "You are a lucky man. Tonight, I think she will be mine, however." A rough, Nordic arm shoved Caber back and knocked over the wine he had been drinking, spilling the delectable contents across the table and shattering the serene mood the fae had placed himself in. Caber turned to the burly man, and the debonair young man suddenly looked feral, his teeth bared and the hair, no fur of his arms on end. What's more, his eyes blazed with the color of burning bronze. The lights began to dim slowly, and with the swiftness of the turning winds, Caber left his chair and had grabbed the man by his shirt collar, the youth's muscles firm like oak. "Do you think your Gods will save you from me?" the fae squealed in devilish delight. With an almost treeish certainly, he shoved the hairy Nord back into the next table, causing it to collapse. No sooner had the man hit the ground did Caber look as he had been, collected and as calm as can be. The woman Delilah looked confused and torn, as if she needed to be told what to do next like a lost child. Caber smoothed his still-combed hair and cleared his throat, regaining his senses. "Two thousand and eighteen," he breathed, an indecipherable whisper to himself. A moment later, he turned back to Delilah. "My dear, it was lovely to speak to you. But alas, our time has come to an end. Had we met when I was a young one, you would be a Gwragedd Annwn." He clapped thrice, and the lights flickered once more. Those bar patrons that had not been too engrossed in their drink or still eyeing the prone body of the jealous boyfriend, would see the image of a goat-like thing in their retina before the lights turned back on, and the youth was gone. The fae, now floating out in the nightsky back to his calling stone within the PHI HQ, realized he should speak of none of this to Morgan, or she would bind him to the station itself. That would be utterly dreadful!
BTW @Penny, is the mythos behind each supernatural creature fairly open source? Like, I'd be down for playing a Werewolf, but closer to World of Darkness standards. (i.e. being born as one, shifting into different forms, etc)
i was having the hardest time thinking up a character until i was looking at my bookshelf and "The Amulet of Samarkand" stood out to me which hit me with inspiration, so ill shamelessly rip off concepts from that haha
Name: Jason Thorvald - Goes by Thaum Character Concept: Magic user specialized in summoning rituals, very little evocation/explosive magic mostly used as punishments towards his servants. The servants are functionally enslaved and most (if not all) would kill him or allow him to die given the chance. Using Infernal creatures of evil or powerful Djinn he makes ends meet as an information broker. Though he tries to fight for the greater good when its possible.
Trouble: His magic is viewed as Evil and those who hunt warlocks have tried to kill him before, most magical creatures instinctively know what he is and loathe his existence, some do act violently.
Thaum sat in his chalk circle of the summoning ritual, connected to his circle was a much more elaborate one with several circles inside each other and interlaced with Symbols. In this case it was Infernal or Hell-Script as he was trying to summon an Imp, Specifically a basic, but clever imp named Crec. The imp was a difficult one and would interpret his orders into meaningless gibberish if given the opportunity, unfortunately the Imp was actually very good at his job. So Thaum began the 20 syllable incantation that would bring the Imp to his plane that had to be spoken clearly and precisely. Best case scenario of failure was the Demon not arriving on this plane, worst case was a horrible death. This also extended to the ritual circle, but even more so, if the circle was wrong in any way it would allow the demon free without control rather than simply not allowing it to arrive. The incantation also ensured that the demon could not directly take action to harm the summoner once the creature's task was agreed to.
Thaum was new with the rituals of summoning and spoke carefully, however he had summoned Crec several times now. After several heartbeats the area inside the summoning circle was filled with a black smoke and the room filled with hideous laughter. Crec was using old tricks to try and scare Thaum out of his own circle. The effects only lasted a moment before they died away and left a fat humanoid floating in the air with deep red skin and a few horns jutting from its skull.
"Oh, its you again." said Crec clearly not thrilled at being summoned.
"Crec! I charge you with a single task this evening" said Thaum clearly.
"Oh dear" said the Imp, feigning concern and vaugely gesturing at a section of the ritual "you mussed this line here, i suppose ill have to kill you now"
Thaum blinked and the next words halted in his throat. "Oh do st-" he almost ordered the imp to stop speaking, which would count as a 'single task' and would allow the imp to leave, he had to give Crec credit the ruse almost got him. However the Imp was laughing and generally trying to rile him up now so the orders would be garbled somehow and open to interpretation that would be twisted so that the time and effort to summon the Imp would be wasted.
"Your task, Crec, is to report the location of the demon Moloch to me this night." said Thaum clearly
The Imp looked thoughtful for a moment "This is my one task and i may return to the Infernal plane only once it is complete?"
"Correct"
"The demon Moloch's location in not here" said the Imp before vanishing from sight.
"I did not ask where the demon was not, nor did i ask where you believed the demon might be, you must report his location to me." said Thaum knowing full well that the demon's answer did not satisfy the conditions of the task. "If you continue to resist me on this i will apply the frigid vice." He continued referring to a simple spell that would shrink the area in the circle with a shell of frost, particularly unpleasant to fire of infernal based creatures. Unfortunately the spell requires the ritual as a bound to work and is useless outside a summoning. Crec fades back into sight "This Moloch will find and kill you for me." says the Imp before the air made a small snap indicating that the demon had left to preform its task. Thaum's eyes went wide, he was an idiot. He hadn't said that Crec had to be stealthy or forbade the imp from speaking to Moloch. It was possible the imp would lead the demon here and report that the demon was in the building technically fulfilling his task. Crec couldn't easily be banished now as the imp had trapped him into ensuring that the only way to return was to complete the task or outright fail it.
Thaum frantically searched his memory and tomes to find a creature powerful enough to face the Demon Moloch. It was no easy task as his understanding was too basic to conjure a mighty Fae or powerful demon, even a Djinn may not be enough. It was not long before he started to get desperate and picked a potent Fae nearly at random. After hastily, though still carefully, modifying the summoning circle and reading the long incantation from the book directly he summoned an Ogre by the Name of Ghrom to protect him and not allow him to come to harm during the night. At least he tried to, something was wrong, part of the incantation he assumed as the chalk of the summoning circle became black and began to smoke somehow burning the concrete it was on as if it where wood. The circle around Thaum stayed white and clear however and the effects stopped seconds later as the power from the failed magic spent itself. The feed back rendering Thaum unconscious for several hours.
Fate had seen to take pity on Thaum however and the Demon Moloch was actually back in the Infernal plane and the Imp Crec was incapable of finding the demon before first light. Which Thaum took as a stroke of luck and banished Crec before it had an opportunity to bring him to harm. His first attempt at using demons for more than experimental tasks had been a disaster. He had been defenseless and at the nearly at the mercy of a powerful demon only luck had saved him from a terrible death.
Hi everyone - hope I’m not too late to apply for this. I’ve added a character concept below for consideration :).
Name: Kayla-Elle Character Concept: Blind Oracle with the limited ability of foresight Trouble: There are certain less savoury individuals hunting me. They would use my abilities for their own nefarious needs.
She heard the voices of those around her. Not for the first time, Kayla-Elle wished that she could still see..... To be able to put faces to the sweet voices that she could hear, such a thing meant the world to her, and she would have given up the world for it....the world of darkness and dancing shadows that she permanently lived in.
An explosion of sound.....shouting, screaming. The world had deteriorated into images of blurred chaos. There were sirens.....sirens flashing with the blue and red neon lights.....lights that she could not see except for the images in her minds eye.
“Step back Miss,” a voice pierced the chaotic maelstrom.
”There has been a murder,” the male voice, belonging to someone she could not see advised.
Kayla-Elle smiled, the expression appearing across her lightly tanned skin.
She knew — she knew what had happened. It was why she was here. They had shown her. The angels in her dreams. They showed her a creature...a creature of violence, of blood and of death. It had torn out the throat of the poor man who even now lay crumpled on the concrete path, his blood staining the floor a vivid colour of red painted against black and white images - irrevocably etched against the terrible memories she would harbour for the rest of her life.
Such was her “gift”. The gift to see things that no one else could. The sight that had replaced her own.
Often, Kayla-Elle felt herself float, up in the air. She often had dreams.....dreams of flying high up in the sky and looking down on the world below her. Her dreams were a blessed balm to her, a relief that waking life could not give her. It was only in the depths of her imagination now that she could truly see, people, places, colours. She often dreamed of the people she spoke to, the only relief to the prison of darkness that sightlessness provided.
It was when she floated through the air that she “saw” the visions that the angels provided her — images of the victims death. First and foremost was the acrid smell of smoke, and of fire. Death hung in the air, death and blood. She could hear the screams of the dying man.
Here....here she was needed. Here, she felt whole.
”I must pass. I am sorry. It is the only way,” she said, passing by the man as if he was nothing but a ghost.
Which to her, he was nothing more than another faceless shadow.
Feet touched the blood-soaked floor, and Kayla-Elle stood, an angel herself amidst the dark touch of death.
”I’m sorry,” she said softly as she knelt.
She touched the wound, feeling the blood with her fingertips, and she whispered to the angels.
”Show me who.....where,” she whispered softly.
And they came. A cacophony of images.....images of terrible violence, of blood and of death. She saw a ruined apartment, of a man lying in his bed, holding his head in his hands. He moaned softly even as he writhed and twisted, jerking his body violently to one side as he convulsed.
It was not the end. It was only the beginning.
Shuddering, Kayla-Elle let out a small sob at the violent images. A hand on her shoulder interrupted her.
”Miss, you need to go.”
The voice was firmer, more insistent. Kayla-Elle stood, nodding her head slowly as she turned to leave.
Name: Othen Character Concept: Gargoyle (doesn't turn to stone at day, only becomes a lot weaker) Trouble: Banned from his community for the most part due to own misbehavior. Scene:
The night was dark, but clear. There wasn't as much as a single, thin cloud to reflect the abundance of scattered light emanating from the city back to its origin. All those cars, houses, skycrapers, promotional signs and street lamps weren't nearly as polluting under such cold and bone dry conditions as they were otherwise, allowing for a nearly black object crossing the skies to remain unseen. There were only those short disruptions in the steady glow of singular stars when it crossed the path of their light, but noone noticed.
Othen was flying high still, trying to avoid noise as his wings had to work a lot harder with the rather massive copper rod dangling from his clawed feet. Luckily not all of the abandoned car factories had been completely looted and stripped to the core yet. And if his plan for today's night would work out not only he would soon have at least a bunch of hours to roam freely and discover other details about this city...
The target was dead ahead. Massive cables, isolators, rails and housings littered with cooling fins were rising into the sky, encaged by a fence that clearly said: 'No trespassing!'. Well... not for him, not this night. Othen dropped his cargo and watched the massive piece as it accelerated downwards towards the area. There was a loud bang accompanied by the immediate onset of sizzling noises and a bright flash that didn't go away either. A reddish glow soon followed, indicating that a fire had broken out. And then Detroit's lights went dark...
Roughly one week later. Unlike the fateful night, the room was so brightly illuminated that Othen's dark figure contrasted against the white floor tiles almost uncomfortingly for the naked eye. Another figure almost as tall as he was walked around him and didn't grow tired of constantly bellowing more and even more words:
"I hate to repeat myself: Is there even the faintest glimpse of an idea in your completely ossified brain about what you've done ?"
"I've dropped a thick copper bar onto the primary outputs of the transformer station."
"Oh yeah. Now that's true! And frankly speaking if you weren't such a big ass I'd drop you from somewhere as well! That blackout lasted for almost a fucking day and spread almost into Canada!"
"And ? Everybody knows that this country's power grid is about as messed up and delapidated as your average politician! Can't you enjoy even for the slightest while that everyone of our kind was allowed to roam free and undisturbed for an entire night ?"
"Oh yes, I can! I really can! Do you really think there'd be anyone of us who doesn't thing poorly about all those... inventions... the last century has brought upon us ?"
"Seems so there is. Right in front of me..."
"Shut up! You got me and I know it! However you have to understand two things... First: At least inside this goddamn city we have an agreement that none of our kind is allowed to purposefully do harm to any human being! Second: Do you think the other supernaturally gifted individuals were very amused about this... disturbance ? The ordinary human might struggle to explain how this 'accident' could happen, but I'm sure your average vampire administrator does far less so! I wish I could transfer all the heat I'm feeling onto you!"
Othen said nothing. He just looked at his interrogator as the other man had finally stopped circling around and sat down again, leaning forwards to look him into his eyes.
"You have screwed up very, very hard! And you know what kind of consequence that will have... No voting rights at our conclaves! It will be a dishonorable act to support you unless in the most extreme cases! A complete cutout from our information network! In other words... You're out! At least for the unforeseeable future! And now piss off!"
